The Lust of Hate by Guy Newell Boothby (digital book reader txt) 📕

bows. When that was done, I heard an order given,

and willing hands pulled us quickly alongside.

 

By the time we reached it the gangway had been lowered, and a

couple of men were standing at the foot of it ready to receive us. I

remember leaning over to fend her off, and I also have a good

recollection of seeing one of the men—the ship’s doctor I afterwards

discovered him to be—step into the boat.

 

“Can you walk up the steps yourself, or would you like to be

carried?” he asked, as I sank down on the thwart again.

 

“Carry the lady,” I answered huskily; “I can manage to get up

myself. Take her quickly, or she will die.”

 

I saw him pick Miss Maybourne up, and, assisted by the

quartermaster who had accompanied him, carry her up the ladder. I

attempted to follow, only to discover how weak I really was. By the

exercise of sheer will, however, I managed to scramble up, holding on

to the rail, and so gained the deck. Even after all this lapse of

time I can distinctly see the crowd of eager faces pressed round the

top of the ladder to catch a glimpse of us, and I can hear again the

murmurs of sympathy that went up as we made our appearance. After

that all seems a blank, and I can only believe what I am

told—namely, that I looked round me in a dazed sort of fashion, and

then fell in a dead faint upon the deck.

 

When I recovered consciousness again, I had to think for a moment

before I could understand what had happened. I found myself in a

handsomely-furnished cabin that I had never seen before. For an

instant I imagined myself back again on the ill-fated Fiji

Princess. Then a tall, red-bearded man—the same who had carried

Miss Maybourne up from the boat—entered, and came towards me.

Through the door, which he had left open, I could see the

awning-covered promenade-deck outside. As soon as I saw him I tried

to sit up on the velvet-cushioned locker upon which I had been

placed, but he bade me be content to lie still for a little

while.

 

“You will be far better where you are,” he said. “What you want is

rest and quiet. Take a few sips of this, and then lie down again and

try to get to sleep. You have some arrears to make up in that line,

or I’m mistaken.”

 

He handed me a glass from the tray above my couch, and held it for

me while I drank. When I had finished I laid myself down again, and,

instead of obeying him, began to question him as to where I was. But

once more I was forestalled, this time by the entrance of a steward

carrying a bowl of broth on a tray.

 

“You see we’re determined, one way or another, to close your

mouth,” he said, with a laugh. “But this stuff is too hot for you at

present. We’ll put it down here to cool, and in the meantime I’ll

answer not more than half-a-dozen questions. Fire away, if you feel

inclined.”

 

I took him at his word, and put the one question of all others I

was longing to have answered.

 

“How is the lady who was rescued with me?”

 

“Doing as well as can be expected, poor soul,” he replied. “She’s

being well looked after, so you need not be anxious about her. You

must have had a terrible time in that boat, to judge from the effects

produced. Now, what is the next question?”

 

“I want to know what ship this is, and how far we were from the

Salvages when you picked us up?”

 

“This vessel is The King of Carthage—Captain Blockman in

command. I’m afraid I can’t answer your last question offhand, for

the reason that, being the doctor, I have nothing to do with the

navigation of the ship; but I’ll soon find out for you.”

 

He left the cabin, and went to the foot of the ladder that led to

the bridge. I heard him call the officer of the watch, and say

something to him. Presently he returned.

 

“The Salvages lie about seventy miles due nor’-nor’-east of our

present position,” he said.

 

“Nor’-nor’-east?” I cried. “Then I was even further out in my

calculations than I expected.”

 

“Why do you ask about the Salvages?”

 

“Because it was on a rock off those islands that our ship, the

Fiji Princess, was lost. We put off from the island to try and

catch a sailing vessel that came in sight yesterday morning. A dense

fog came on, however, and during the time it lasted we lost both the

ship we went out to stop and also our island. Ever since then we have

been drifting without food or water.”

 

“You have indeed had a terrible experience. But you’ve a splendid

constitution, and you’ll soon get over the effects of it. And now

tell me, were no others saved from the wreck?”

 

“As far as we could tell, with the exception of our three selves,

not a single soul.”

 

“You say ‘three selves,’ but we only rescued the lady and

yourself. What, then, became of the third?”

 

“The third was a child about eight years old. The poor little

thing must have been hurt internally when we were sucked under by the

sinking ship, and her condition was probably not improved by the long

exposure we had to endure on the bottom of the boat from which you

rescued us. She scarcely recovered consciousness, and died on the

island a short time before we left it in our attempt to catch the

vessel I spoke of just now.”

 

“I never heard a sadder case,” said the doctor. “You are indeed to

be pitied. I wonder the lady, your companion, came through it alive.

By the way, the skipper was asking me just now if I knew your

names.”

 

“The lady is Miss Maybourne, whose father is a well-known man at

the Cape, I believe.”

 

“Surely not Cornelius Maybourne, the mining man?”

 

“Yes, she is his daughter. He will be in a terrible state when the

Fiji Princess is reported missing.”

 

“I expect he will; but, fortunately, we shall be in Cape Town

almost as soon as she would have been, and he will find that his

daughter, thanks to your care, is safe and sound. Now I am not going

to let you talk any more. First, take a3 much of this broth as you

can manage, and then lie down and try to get to sleep again. As I

said just now, I prophesy that in a few days you’ll be up and about,

feeling no ill-effects from your terrible adventure.”

 

I obeyed him, and drank the broth. When I had done so I laid down

again, and in a very short time was once more in the Land of Nod.

When I opened my eyes again the cabin was almost dark. The doctor was

still in attendance, and, as soon as he saw that I was awake, asked

me if I would like to get up for a little while. I answered that I

should be only too glad to do so; and when he had helped me to dress,

I took possession of a chair on the promenade-deck outside. It was

just dinner-time in the saloon, and by the orders of the Captain, who

came personally to enquire how I was, I was served with a meal on

deck. Nothing could have exceeded the kindness and thoughtfulness of

the officers and passengers. The latter, though anxious to hear our

story from my own lips, refrained from bothering me with questions;

and thinking quiet would conduce to my recovery, allowed me to have

the use of that end of the deck unmolested. As soon as I could do so,

I enquired once more after Miss Maybourne, and was relieved to hear

that she was making most satisfactory progress towards recovery.

After dinner the Captain came up, and seating himself in a chair

beside me, asked a few questions concerning the foundering of the

Fiji Princess, which information, I presumed, he required for

his log.

 

“You have placed Mr. Maybourne very deeply in your debt,” he said,

after a little further conversation; “and I don’t doubt but there

will be many who will envy your good fortune in having conferred so

signal a service upon his daughter. By the way, you have not told us

your own name.”

 

My heart gave a great jump, and for the moment I seemed to feel

myself blushing to the roots of my hair. After the great kindness I

had already received from everyone on board the vessel, it seemed

worse than ungrateful to deceive them. But I dared not tell the

truth. For all I knew to the contrary, my name might have been

proclaimed everywhere in England before they left.

 

“My name is Wrexford,” I said, feeling about as guilty as a man

could well do.

 

“Any relation to the Wrexfords of Shrewsbury?” asked the Captain

with mild curiosity.

 

“Not that I’m aware of,” I answered. “I have been living out of

England for many years, and have no knowledge of my relations.

 

“It’s not a common name,” continued the skipper; “that is why I

ask. Sir George Wrexford is one of our directors, and a splendid

fellow. I thought it was just possible that you might be some

connection of his. Now, if you will excuse me, I’ll be off. Take my

advice and turn in early. I’m sorry to say we’re carrying our full

complement of passengers, so that I cannot give you a proper berth;

but I’ve ordered a bed to be made up for you in my chart-room, where

you have been all day to-day. If you can manage to make yourself

comfortable there it is quite at your service.”

 

“It is very kind of you to put yourself to so much inconvenience,”

I answered. “I fear by the time we reach Cape Town I shall have

caused you a considerable amount of trouble.”

 

“Not at all! Not at all!” the hospitable skipper replied, as he

rose to go. “I’m only too glad to have picked you up. It’s our duty

to do what we can for each other, for we none of us know when we may

be placed in a similar plight ourselves.”

 

After he left me, I was not long in following the good advice he

had given me; and when I had once reached my couch, fell into a

dreamless sleep, from which I did not wake until after eight o’clock

next morning. Indeed, I don’t know that I should have waked even

then, had I not been disturbed by the noise made by someone entering

the cabin. It proved to be the doctor.

 

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked, when he had felt my

pulse.

 

“Ever so much better,” I replied. “In fact, I think I’m quite

myself again. How is Miss Maybourne?”

 

“Still progressing satisfactorily,” he answered. “She bids me give

you her kind regards. She has been most constant in her enquiries

after your welfare.”

 

I don’t know whether my face had revealed my secret, or whether it

was only supposition on his part, but he looked at me pretty hard for

a moment, and then laughed outright.

 

“You may not know it,” he said, “but when all’s said and done,

you’re a jolly lucky fellow.”

 

I sighed, and hesitated a moment before I replied.

 

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” I said. “Luck and I have never been

companions. I