Then Gertie would call out: “You awake?” and I would joyfully answer:

“Yes.”

“What shall we do today?”

What an ideal way for a day to begin for a girl who was not yet eleven years old-though she would be in March, which was not very far away.

The Forman family had more or less adopted me because Gertie and I were such close companions. I would join them for tea or sit with them on deck and I seemed part of the family. Jimmy Forman was not often with us. Gertie and I were younger than he was and he considered us too immature for his company. In any case, we were girls and as such he had not much respect for us. He spent a lot of time with the sailors, seeking information about the ship.

Mr. and Mrs. Forman were delighted that Gertie had found a companion, and it really was amazing how quickly people became close friends on a ship. I suppose it was because we saw so much of each other.

We had passed through the Bay without much discomfort and we were sailing along the Mediterranean. Uncle Toby told me that there was a party going to Pompeii and Herculaneum, and it would be good for me to join it.

“Alas,” he said, “I shall be completely tied up with business, but I don’t see why you shouldn’t go with the Formans.”

Gertie and I had already discussed it.

“We must go,” she said, and her family would be pleased for me to go with them.

The Formans were quite happy to concede, apart from Jimmy, who did not want to go with the family but with Timothy Lees, with whom he shared a cabin.

It was a wonderful day. In my imagination I was transported to that time long ago when the disaster had happened. There, looming above me, was the menacing mountain and it was not difficult to conjure up in one’s mind the panic that ensued when the hot ash spurted from its summit, covering the city and destroying it with its inhabitants.

We had an excellent guide and, as we picked our way through the ravaged byways of the ancient city, I was seeing it all as it must have happened.

When we returned to the ship, I was in an ecstatic state, and as soon as I saw Uncle Toby, I told him what a wonderful day it had been.

He listened intently and suddenly he put his arm round me and, holding me tightly against him, said: “Yes. We need not worry about missing a few lessons. It’s all right for a while at any rate.”

I felt suddenly sombre. I did not want to think of the future. I was living in an enchanted present and I wanted it to go on for ever.

I said: “I expect Estella and Adeline are back from their Aunt Florence now and they’ll be having lessons again. I shall have to catch up when I get home.”

Home, I thought? Commonwood House. I had never thought that I really belonged, and now I could not bear to contemplate going back.

Uncle Toby said lightly: “Oh, you’ll catch up. I’ve always maintained that seeing the world is an education in itself.”

He changed the subject abruptly.

“Gertie is a nice girl, isn’t she?

You were lucky to get with her. It doesn’t always work out so neatly.”

Then he began to tell some funny stories about ill-assorted people who had shared cabins in the past.

“Ports are fun, aren’t they?” he went on.

“The next is Suez. We are staying there only a very short time, and there isn’t an excursion planned. We don’t get in until eight in the morning and we must leave at four-thirty. Not much time for sight-seeing. It’s too far from the Pyramids, and you can’t really get a taste of the allure of Egypt. I am sure the Formans will be glad if you join them. We have to go in on tenders, which takes a little time. It’s too shallow for us to get right in. You’ll enjoy it. We use the lifeboats and, of course, have to let them down, as we do if we had to abandon ship. It’s a good exercise. You’ll see. Smaller ships can get in without trouble, but we have to anchor some little way out in the bay.”

I enjoyed having such details explained to me. I was proud and happy that he considered me capable of understanding, and I forgot about the earlier references to the education I was missing, which had brought home the transience of the life I was now experiencing. I determined to enjoy every moment that I might carry it for ever in my memory.

The Formans said they would be delighted if I joined them for the day we were in Suez. Gertie told me that Jimmy and Tim Lees were going off on their own. They thought they were too old to be in family parties.

The days were balmy and when we were at sea Uncle Toby had more free time. Often I would sit on deck with him and one day, when we were talking, the ship’s doctor came by. Dr. Emmerson was a pleasant young man in his mid-twenties I imagined.

Uncle Toby said: “We are just enjoying a quiet teteatete. We don’t have them as frequently as I’d like, but Carmel is a very resourceful young lady and she manages to get along very well without my interference.”

“I am sure she does,” said Dr. Emmerson.

“May I sit down for a moment?”

“Please do. Are you ready to leave?”

“Still one or two things to do,” said the doctor.

Uncle Toby turned to me and said: “Dr. Emmerson is leaving us at Suez and another doctor will be joining us there. We can’t sail without a doctor, you know, so Dr. Kelso will take Dr. Emmerson’s place. We shall miss you, Lawrence.”

“You’ll get along well with Kelso.”

“Dr. Emmerson is going to spend some time in a hospital in Suez,” said Uncle Toby.

“He’s very interested in the ailments of the skin, and he’s making some special studies of them there.”

“Shall you be able to get ashore. Captain?” asked Dr. Emmerson.

“Alas, no, but the Formans you know, the family who are going to Australia are taking Carmel.”

“That’s good,” said Dr. Emmerson.

We chatted for a while about Suez, which Dr. Emmerson seemed to know very well, and then the doctor mentioned that he still had quite a few things to do in preparation for his departure, and he left us.

Uncle Toby said: “A nice fellow, Lawrence Emmerson. Ambitious, too.

He’ll do well. I think his family wanted him to go into the Church, but he knew what he wanted. Now he’s doing this course in Suez, but I expect he’ll be back specializing in London. Good luck to him. His family will be proud of him then. You know, my family didn’t want me to go to sea. But, like Lawrence Emmerson, I’d made up my mind. When I was seventeen, I ran away and joined the Merchant Navy. We used to do the Indian run, taking soldiers and civil servants to India and bringing them back home. It was a wonderful life and I’ve never regretted it. That’s one of the great secrets of life. Never regret.

If it’s good, it’s wonderful. If it’s bad, it’s experience. That is well worth having. It warns you not to do it again. “

I wanted to ask about the family, but remembered that Mrs. Marline had been his sister, and I was afraid of getting on to something unpleasant.

He went on, however: “I was forgiven in time, and taken back into the bosom of the family. But I was always a bit of an outsider. I did not conform, you see. I’m not a conformer.”

We laughed together, and he made no further mention of the family, but he went on to tell me more of his experiences at sea. I was going to be exactly like him, I told myself. I was going to enjoy the good things as they came and not let others disturb me.

In two days we were to reach Suez and Gertie and I talked constantly of what we would do. I loved getting into my berth and snuggling down and talking to Gertie until one of us dropped off to sleep.

The morning before we were due to arrive at Suez, Gertie told me that her father had been quite ill during the night.

“It’s one of his bad turns. Mum thinks,” she said.

“He gets them really bad. It’s his chest.”

During the day Mr. Forman’s cold grew worse and Dr. Emmerson said he must not go out the next day. Mrs.

Forman felt that she must stay with him, for these chest colds of his could turn nasty.

Gertie was woeful.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” she said.

“We shall have to stay on board.”

Mrs. Forman was distressed. She knew how much we had looked forward to going ashore, but she could not possibly leave Mr. Forman.

Gertie was so upset that finally Mrs. Forman said that, if the boys were with us, she thought we might go.

Gertie rather gloomily told me of the boys’ reaction to the suggestion. Jimmy had said they didn’t want a lot of kids trailing round with them.

“I told them it was not a lot, only two, and we’re not kids anyway.

Then my mother got angry and told Jimmy not to be so selfish, and how upset our father would be if he knew he’d refused to keep an eye on his sister and her friend so that the poor little things had to stay on board. Then Jimmy said, all right, they’d take us. But they don’t want us. “

“Perhaps we’d better not go, then,” I suggested.

“Not go! Stay on board! Not likely! We’ll have to go with them, or they won’t let us go at all.”

So the prospect was not as bright as it might have been, and, much as we resented the boys’ ungracious resignation, we decided that it was better to force our unwanted company on them than not go at all.

It was fun getting into the launch which was to take us ashore. First we must descend the gangway to the landing-stage, which was bobbing about in the swell; then we must step from that to the launch, which was drawn up at the side of the ship. This was not an easy matter, and there were two stalwart sailors, standing like sentinels, waiting on the swaying platform to help people into the launch.