I thought the Serene Lady beautiful. I had been as excited as Edward when I had seen her through the binoculars; but to step on board to see for myself her polished brass and gleaming decks and to think that she was Captain Stretton’s ship thrilled me deeply. She was one of the new steamers which Chantel told me “we” (quoting Edith) were adding to “our” fleet. “Perhaps nothing can be quite so romantic as the sailing barques, brigs, and cutters, but they’re fast becoming old fashioned and we have to be up-to-date.”

Serene Lady was not a big ship, but she carried a sizable cargo and twelve passengers into the bargain, among whom were to be Rex, Chantel, Edward, his mother, and myself.

Chantel was with me when I went on board. Her green eyes sparkling like gems, the breeze catching at her titian hair, she looked lovely and I wondered afresh whether the obvious interest she had in Rex made her as vulnerable as I feared I was.

The cabins were fitted with carpets, beds, fixed dressing tables, which could be used as desks, armchairs, and built-in cupboards.

While we were examining them Chantel came in. I must go and see hers which was only a few doors away. Hers was part of a suite and Monique’s adjoined it. She showed us this. There were flowers on the dressing table and the curtains at the porthole were of silk not chintz as in ours.

Edward sat on the bed and started to bounce up and down on it.

“It’s very grand,” I said.

“Well, what did you expect for the Captain’s wife?” demanded Chantel. “Mind you, she won’t always sleep here. Only when I have to keep my eyes on her. I daresay she will want to share the Captain’s quarters.” She pointed up. “Near the bridge,” she added.

“I’m going on the bridge,” said Edward.

“If you’re not careful, my lad,” said Chantel, “you’ll be ill with excitement before you have a chance to suffer from the sea.”

But there was no calming Edward. He wanted to explore; so I took him up to the top deck and we watched the final preparations being made for our departure.

On that wintry afternoon when a big red sun showed itself through the mist, to the sound of sirens we began to move out into the Channel and began our journey to the other side of the world.


* * *

The lady remained serene through the Bay of Biscay. When I awoke in my cabin on the first morning I had difficulty in recalling where I was; and as I looked round I really could not believe that I was on board the Captain’s ship en route for exotic places. My trouble was, as Chantel had pointed out on several occasions, that I expected life to be dull and uneventful. Hardly uneventful, I had pointed out grimly, recalling Aunt Charlotte’s death. “Well,” she had temporized, “you always imagine that exciting romantic things won’t happen to you. Therefore they don’t. We get what we work for in this world, remember … or some part of it. Take what you want That’s my motto.”

“There’s an old saying, Spanish I think, that says ‘Take what you want,’ said God. ‘Take it and pay for it.’”

“Who’s complaining of the cost?”

“People don’t always know what it will be until the bill is presented.”

“My dear, precise, prosaic old Anna! There you are, you see. Immediately you think of pleasure you start calculating the cost when anyone knows that that is likely to put a damper on the proceedings.”

I lay there on that first morning recalling that conversation, but when I got up and felt the slight roll of the ship beneath my feet, when I parted the chintz curtains and looked through the porthole at the gray-blue sea, I felt a lightening of my spirits that was more than excitement, and I said to myself: I’ll be like Chantel. I’ll start to enjoy life and I won’t think of the cost until the bill is presented.

And that determination stayed with me. I was indeed intoxicated by the novelty of being at sea, living close to my friend Chantel, and knowing that Red Stretton was on board and that at any moment I might meet him face to face.

She was a good ship because she was his ship. There was to me a feeling of security because he was in charge. The fact was that if I did not look into the future and ask myself what would happen at the end of the voyage, I could be content during those golden days when we sailed past the coast of Spain and Portugal to call at the Rock of Gibraltar before entering the Mediterranean Sea.


* * *

There were eight passengers on board besides our own party, including a boy of about Edward’s age. This was reckoned to be good luck because the two boys would be companions for each other.

The boy was Johnny Malloy, the son of Mrs. Vivian Malloy, who was going to Australia to join her husband who had already made a home for her there; she was accompanied by Mrs. Blakey, her widowed sister, who was helping her to look after young Johnny.

Then there were Gareth and Claire Glenning. Claire was a gentle, almost timid woman in her early forties, I imagined, and her husband was a few years older, very courtly and gallant and over-anxious for his wife’s comfort. The other party consisted of an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Greenall, who were going out to Australia to visit a married daughter and her family, and with them traveled Mrs. Greenall’s sister, Miss Ella Rundle, a rather prim woman who was constantly finding fault with everything.

During the first days or so at sea these people were just figures to me, but it was not long before they began to develop definite personalities. Chantel and I used to discuss them. I would go into her cabin, when Monique was not in the next one, and we would invent life stories for them which the more outrageous they were the more they amused us. I was beginning to get as lighthearted as Chantel. I told her I was taking over her philosophy of life.

A great deal of my time was devoted to Edward. I was obsessed by the fear that he might fall overboard and I would not let him out of my sight during those first days. To make matters more difficult, in the beginning of their acquaintance he and Johnny took a dislike to each other, until, realizing that there was no one else with whom they could play, there was at first an armed neutrality then a truce followed by a reluctant acceptance of each other which was to flower into friendship. But during those early days the sights and scenes of the ship were so new that it was difficult to absorb them and it was some time before I could accept them as normal.

I took breakfast, luncheon and tea with Edward, and Johnny and Mrs. Blakey joined us at table. Mrs. Blakey, although the sister of Mrs. Malloy, was treated as a poor relation. She told me that dear Vivian, her sister, had paid her passage and was going to give her a home in the new world. She wanted to show her gratitude by doing all she could. It seemed to me that she did this by acting as nursery governess to Johnny Malloy.

I learned quite a lot of her life history. The runaway match with the young actor of whom her family did not approve, and who, at the time of their marriage, had already been on the point of going into a decline; his death and destitution, the forgiveness and return into the family. Beneficent Vivian would take her to Australia, give her a new start and for that she would be expected to show a little gratitude.

Poor Lucy Blakey, I was sorry for her. I knew what it meant to have been helped when in need, to be expected to pay by service. Surely the most exorbitant of costs.

We became quite friendly over our meals or when we walked the decks with our charges and sat watching them while they played quoits and deck tennis.

In the evenings the children had supper and went to bed at half-past seven; and for dinner, which took place at eight o’clock, Mrs. Blakey and I joined the rest of the company. There was a place for me at the Purser’s table; Mrs. Blakey sat at the First Officer’s.

The Purser’s table was at one end of the dining salon, the Captain’s table at the other, so I did catch a glimpse of Redvers now and then, though he did not appear in the dining salon every evening. Sometimes he took his dinner in his own quarters but during our first three evenings I only saw him once. He looked handsome in his uniform, which made his blond hair look more fair than ever.

At his table were Monique, Claire and Gareth Glenning, and Mr. and Mrs. Greenall.

Chantel was at the Ship’s Doctor’s table with Rex. I quickly realized that even though the Captain was on the ship I should very likely see little of him, and it dawned on me then that I was not the one in danger so much as Chantel. I wondered what her true feelings for Rex were and whether beneath her air of casual pleasure she was hurt and bewildered. Rex paid attention to her in his way — and it was a different way from that of the Captain. More serious, one might say, for Rex gave me the impression that he was not the man to be lightly flirtatious.

I had started to think a great deal about Rex. I had the impression that he was a man who showed little of his feelings to the world. It was only occasionally that I caught the look in his eyes when he glanced at Chantel; it was almost fierce, possessive. But how could this be when he was, as we knew full well, on his way to Australia to renew his courtship — if it had ever begun — of Miss Derringham?

And Chantel? I could not understand her either. I had often seen her in animated conversation with Rex and she seemed at such times to sparkle and be even more gay than usual. And yet she never seemed in the least perturbed when Miss Derringham’s name was mentioned.