The Rape of Venice (16 page)

For another hour he remained on deck, now and then going to the ship's side to watch the white foam racing along under her counter, or looking up at the ghostly sails with their intricate crisscross of groaning rigging. At length he decided that he must try to find somewhere to sleep, so he went down to the saloon, stumbled about in the darkness there, and fumbled his way to a long settee. Wrapping his big coat more closely about him he lay down and, his mind still tormented by the allurement of Clarissa, eventually dropped into an uneasy doze.

Soon after five in the morning he was roused by the rhythmic swish and thud of scrubbers on the deck above him. As he sat up, the previous night's events became again clear in his mind and added to the wretchedness he felt owing to his almost sleepless night. Hoping that the fresh air would clear his head, he went up on deck.

During the night the weather had worsened. The sea was choppy and there was no sight of land. Roger began to wonder uneasily if sea-sickness was soon to be added to his other miseries, but the deck was fairly steady as, with all sail set and
a stiff breeze, the great ship sped at a fine pace through the dark green water.

For a while he watched the line of seamen gradually moving backwards as they scrubbed, their long-handled brushes moving in time to the beat of a Petty Officer's turk's-headed leather wanger. Then, knowing that the best precaution against seasickness was to keep the stomach busy, he went down to the ‘cuddy', as the dining cabin was called. The stewards were cleaning it and he asked one of them how soon he could have breakfast.

The man replied that tea and biscuits were served for such passengers who cared to come in for them at eight o'clock, but obligingly brought Roger a plate of biscuits and a steaming hot mug of strong tea from the crew's galley. After them he felt distinctly better; so he wandered up on deck again, wondering how he could best kill the two hours which it seemed there were still to go before a chance would come for him to speak to the Commander; but one occurred much sooner than he expected.

At a quarter past six Captain Finch emerged from under the poop. For a moment Roger failed to recognise him, as his short, broad figure was swathed in Turkish towelling. Stepping forward onto the quarter deck, he threw off this robe and a nearby seaman, without waiting for an order, so evidently by custom, turned a salt-water hose on the now naked Commander. After a thorough sousing from head to foot, he resumed his robe and, puffing and blowing, began vigorously to rub himself down with it. Then, catching sight of Roger, he wished him a cheery good morning.

Several seamen being within earshot, this was no place in which to raise the matter of Clarissa, but Roger was anxious to know by when he might hope to be done with the business; so, having returned the Commander's greeting, he asked:

‘At what hour do you anticipate we'll come opposite the Isle of Wight, Sir?'

Captain Finch cast a knowledgeable eye aloft, then replied: ‘Any time now. With this fine breeze behind us we should be well past the Needles by mid-morning. Why did you wish to know?'

‘I'd be grateful, Sir, if when we sight St. Catherine's Point a signal could be made for a boat to come off. My old home is at Lymington, and I particularly want to send off a … a packet to be delivered there.'

‘St. Catherine's Point!' repeated the Commander. ‘Good gracious man, we'll not pass within twenty miles of it. What is more, sorry as I am to disoblige you, Mr. Brook, with such fine sailing weather to carry us down Channel I'd not lose an hour of it to turn inshore—no, not for a thousand pounds. I hope we'll not see land again till we sight Madeira.'

With a murmur of apology, Roger turned away to hide his perturbation. Fate had taken matters out of his hands and, whether he would or no, he must now remain responsible for his lovely stowaway for some two weeks. During then he could not possibly spend every night prowling about the deck or napping fully dressed in the saloon, and, if he shared his cabin with her for so long, the damage would be done; so he might as well take her on to India.

As he paced the deck once more, he could not help feeling elated that the gods had now made it practically impossible for him to reject the prize they offered him, and two possibilities crossed his mind, both of which tended to quiet his scruples at accepting it. One was that, when he decided to leave India, Clarissa, who would by then have made many friends there, might stay on; and with her youth and beauty it was certain that she would receive in such a lax society offers of honourable marriage from a variety of rich suitors. The other was that by then he might feel like marrying her himself.

He quickly dismissed the second. In the main, his marriage to Amanda had been a happy one; but there had been periods when they had made one another desperately unhappy, partly because of her hopeless extravagance and even more so through his failure to remain faithful to her during his long absences abroad.

He was now much better off than he had been during the first years of their marriage, and another woman might prove a better manager; but he now knew himself too well to believe that he would either be content to settle down in England, or remain faithful to any woman if separated from her for a considerable period; so the major rock remained. Had Amanda lived, now that they would have had little Susan as an additional tie, he felt that he could have been to her, even despite occasional lapses, a better husband than would have most men of his class; but since she was dead it seemed downright folly to give some other woman the right to harrow him with jealous scenes when he might lead a carefree life.

The other possibility seemed much more promising. That
way he could have his cake and eat it too; and, quite apart from any selfish motive, there was much to recommend it. He was rich enough to take a good house in Calcutta, to entertain fairly lavishly, and to give Clarissa everything that a woman of fashion needed. She would become the reigning beauty of the place and her salon would soon be thronged with the most eligible bachelors and widowers in India. In six months' time the edge of their first fine hectic passion would have become sufficiently blunted for her to look at other men with more appreciative eyes. Instead of returning to England as a penniless girl with a ruined reputation, she could make her choice and, in a few years' time, come home as the respectable wife of some wealthy Nabob.

To see her becoming interested in someone else and secretly encourage her to safeguard her future would, he knew, prove a severe strain on himself; but that was the price he must pay, and pay it ungrudgingly, for her having given herself to him.

Greatly cheered by this solution, he again turned towards the companionway, but once more he paused at the top step, considering what he should say to her. To disclose his plan was out of the question as, in her present state of mind, she would certainly be horrified at the idea that in due course he meant to pass her on to someone else. He could only say that as it proved impossible to put her ashore in England his scruples had been overcome and that he would joyfully take her as his mistress.

At that, the practical implications of the step began, for the first time, to drift through his mind. She could spend the nights in his cabin, but what of the days? There could be no question of her eating with the passengers or joining in their amusements. It would be difficult for him even to smuggle her tidbits now and then; so she would have to rely for food mainly on the salt-pork and weevily biscuits that were the hard tack of servants and the crew. For weeks on end she would have to take her meals in the ‘noisome hole' she had described to him, with rough, uncultured men. As a ‘boy' she would almost certainly be made to drudge for the others and, quite probably, be bullied unmercifully. And there would be little that he could do to ameliorate her lot.

Probably she had not realised the full horror of what the months ahead would hold for her; but she must to some extent have visualised what she was letting himself in for—and that was the measure of her love for him.

That thought gave him pause again. Women, he knew, were
by nature much more faithful than men. It was two years all but three months since they had sailed together for Martinique, and she had later told him that she had fallen in love with him from the beginning of the voyage. That he had been married, and that numerous handsome suitors had since done their utmost to win her, had failed to make her turn her thoughts elsewhere. Was it, then, really to be supposed that after living with him for six months she would become interested in some other man? No, the odds were that to take her would only add fuel to the fire. To abandon her in Calcutta was unthinkable, and to bring her home would mean for her disgrace.

Once more a prey to terrible indecision, Roger again began to pace the deck. The more he thought about it now the more convinced he became that to make Clarissa his mistress must prove her ultimate ruin and that, even if he were wrong in that and fate proved more kind to her than there was any reason to expect, he could not allow her to endure the hardships and brutalities which were certain to be her portion if she continued to pose as his servant.

By eight o'clock he had made up his mind on a course of action. Going down to the ‘cuddy', he found that the portly merchant, and two of the older Army officers, were the only passengers to have so far made their appearance. He wished them a curt ‘good morning', helped himself to a mug of tea from the samovar and drank it. Then he poured another, picked up a handful of biscuits and, without explanation, carried them out of the cabin.

Down in his own he found Clarissa lying in the lower bunk, but wide awake. She had scragged her pale gold hair back over her head, cut six inches off it and done the rest up in a tight seaman's pigtail; so, covered to her chin as she was, she looked very boyish. But directly they had exchanged greetings she sat up and, as she held out her hands for the tea and biscuits, he caught a momentary glimpse of one of her breasts. Small and firm though it was, it proclaimed more certainly than wearing a petticoat would have, that she was a woman. She had on one of his shirts, which were open at the neck, and he thought it highly probable that she had made the brief revelation on purpose; but it might have been through carelessness, and he shuddered to think what could happen to her if she gave her sex away while among the men servants. The thought strengthened him in his resolution.

As he sat down on the sea-chest opposite to her, the light fell on the dark shadows beneath his eyes and his unshaven chin. With a contrite smile, she said, ‘My poor Roger. ‘Tis clear that you have passed a horrid night. And I'm to blame; so I fear you must be more than ever angry with me.'

He shook his head. ‘Some wise man said “to understand is to forgive”. I've now had time to appreciate how strong the feeling must be that nerved you to face the grim commitments of the rôle you meant to play. My sole distress is that it should not have for its object a man who could return it fully, and be more worthy of it than myself.'

She started to protest, but he cut her short. ‘That is the truth, and the sooner you recognise it the better. I am both too selfish to ask the Captain to marry us, and too selfish to accept the joys you offer me without that, because I rate too high the price that I would later have to pay.'

‘That is not the whole truth, Roger. If you cared for me less you'd not let your conscience worry you. ‘Tis that, at whatever cost to both of us, you are determined not to spoil my chances of a good marriage. Remember, you once told me that you would have no scruples were I a married woman.'

For a moment he was silent, then his blue eyes became merry and he smiled at her. ‘Very well then. When we reach India you must get yourself a rich husband, and I'll become your lover.'

‘What say you!' Her face flushed with delight. ‘D'you really mean that you are taking me to India with you after all?'

‘I have no option. The ship has a stiff breeze behind her, and two hours back the Commander told me that nothing would induce him to waste it by putting in to send ashore—well, I called it a packet.'

She laughed. ‘A packet of trouble, you should have said, for that's what I've become to you.' Suddenly her smile vanished, and she added, ‘But if you'll not let me share this cabin with you… Oh Roger, I dread to think…'

‘Be easy, m'dear. This cabin will be yours. I'm moving to another. But tell me; have you only boys' clothes, or did you also bring aboard some feminine garments?'

‘I brought two trunks of my own things, but labelled with your name; and, not expecting to require them until our arrival in India, I had them put in the hold.'

‘God be praised for that. ‘Twill make matters far easier. As they were late stowed, there should be no difficulty in getting
them up from the hold, and I'll say that you directed them to be stowed there only because you knew no better.'

Leaning forward, he went on earnestly: ‘Now this is our story. In some respects it is thin; but since I did not pass the night here, and intend to report the matter to the Commander at the earliest opportunity, it stands a good chance of being given credence. That is, if you play your part convincingly.

‘You must appear a nit-wit of a girl whose head is full of romantic notions of the East. It was not any attachment to myself which led you to become the next thing to a stowaway, but a moon-struck desire to see the marvels you had read about. We are by marriage cousins, and the position you filled in relation to Amanda while in Martinique might well have led you to look upon me as an honorary Uncle. So you will call me Uncle Roger. What happened was that, on learning that I was going to India, you begged me to take you with me. I refused. But being spoilt, irresponsible and strong-willed, you hatched this plot to accompany me whether I would or no.

‘You would, of course, have known that, had we come face to face before the ship was well out at sea, I should have had you put ashore. So you came aboard at Margate, slept in my cabin until I joined the ship, and did not intend to reveal yourself to me until the morning. But, when it came to a pinch, you could not stomach the thought of spending last night in the servants' quarters, so you came here, and I gave up my cabin to you. Had that been the true sequence of events, you would have known that, however angry your “dear Uncle Roger” might be, he would have had no alternative but to get you a cabin for yourself as soon as possible, have your boxes brought to it and, when you had resumed your frills and furbelows, present you to the Commander, officers and passengers as his niece. And that is our programme for the forenoon.'