The Captive

Storm at Sea

In due course I went away to school. I was wretched for a time but I soon settled in. I found community life to my liking. I had always been interested in other people and I was soon making friends and joining in school activities.

Felicity had done quite well with my education, and I was neither outstandingly brilliant nor dull. I was like so many others, which is perhaps the best thing to be for it makes life easier. No one envied me my scholarship and no one despised me for my lack of it. I soon mingled with the rest and became a very average schoolgirl.

The days passed quickly. School joys, dramas and triumphs became part of my life, although I often thought nostalgically of the kitchen at meal times and particularly of Mr. Dolland’s ‘turns’. We had drama classes and plays were put on in the gymnasium for the entertainment of the school. I was Bassanio in The Merchant of Venice and scored a modest success which I was sure was due to what I had learned from Mr. Dolland’s technique.

Then there were the holidays. Nanny Pollock had decided to go to Somerset after all and I spent a week with her and her cousin; she had become reconciled to life in the country and, a year or so after she left Bloomsbury, the death of a distant relative brought complete contentment back to her life.

The deceased was a young woman who had left a two-year-old child and there was consternation in the family as to who would take care of the orphan. It was a heaven-sent opportunity for Nanny Pollock. A child to care for, one whom she could make her own and who would not be snatched from her as those of other people were.

When I went home I was expected now to dine with my parents and although my relationship with them had changed considerably I longed for the old kitchen meals. However, when they went away from London researching or lecturing, I was able to revert to the old customs.

We missed Felicity and Nanny Pollock, of course, but Mr. Dolland was in as sparkling a form as ever and Mrs. Harlow’s comments retained the flavour of the old days.

Then of course there was Felicity. She was always de lighted to see me.

She was very happy and had a baby named James and she had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the task of being a good wife and mother.

She was a good hostess, too. It was necessary, she told me, for a man in James’s position to entertain now and then, so that was something she had had to learn. Growing up as I was, I could attend her dinner parties and I found that I enjoyed them.

It was at one of them that I made the acquaintance of Lucas Lorimer.

Felicity told me something of him before I met him.

“By the way,” she said, “Lucas Lorimer is coming tonight. You’ll like him. Most people do. He is charming, good-looking … well, good-looking enough … and he has the trick of making everyone feel they’re enormously interesting. You know what I mean. Don’t be deceived. He’s like that with everyone. He’s rather a restless sort of person, I imagine. He was in the Army for a spell. But he retired from that. He’s the younger son. His elder brother Carleton has just inherited the estate in Cornwall, which is quite considerable, I think. The father died only a few months ago, and Lucas is rather at a loose end. There is plenty to do on the estate but I imagine he’s the sort who would want to be in command. He’s a little unsure of what he wants to do at the moment. A few years ago he found a charm … a relic of some sort, in the gardens of Trecorn Manor … that’s the name of this place in Cornwall. There was a certain excitement about this find. It was Egyptian and there’s some speculation as to how it came to be there. Your father is connected with it.”

“I expect it was covered in hieroglyphics.”

“That must have been how they recognized its source.” She laughed.

“At the time he wrote a book about it. He became interested, you see, and did a bit of research. He found out that it was a medal awarded for some military service and that led him on to the ancient customs of Egypt and he came upon some which had never been heard of before. This book has interested one or two people like your father. Anyway you’ll meet him and judge for yourself.”

I did meet him that night.

He was tall, slim and lithe; one was immediately aware of his vitality.

“This is Rosetta Cranleigh,” said Felicity.

“How delightful to meet you,” he said, taking both my hands and gazing at me.

She was right. He did make one feel important and as though his words were not merely a formality. I felt myself believing him in spite of Felicity’s warning.

Felicity went on: “Professor Cranleigh’s daughter and my one-time pupil. In fact the only one I ever had.”

“This is so exciting,” he said.

“I have met your father … a brilliant man.”

Felicity left us to talk together. He did most of the talking. He told me how helpful my father had been and how grateful he was to have had so much of the important gentleman’s time.

Then he wanted to know about me. I confessed that I was still at school, that this was my holiday and I had another two or three terms to come.

“And then what shall you do?”

I lifted my shoulders.

“You’ll be married before long, I dare say,” he said, implying that my charms were such that husbands would be vying with each other to win me.

“One never knows what will happen to us.”

“How very true,” he remarked as though my trite remark made a sage of me.

Felicity was right. He set out to please. It was rather transparent when one had been warned, but pleasant, I had to admit.

I found myself seated beside him at dinner. He was very easy to talk to. He told me about the find in the garden, and how to a certain extent it had changed his life.

“The family have always been connected with the Army and I have broken the tradition. My uncle was a colonel of the regiment, hardly ever in England, always doing his duty at some outpost of Empire. I discovered it wasn’t the life for me so I got out.”

“It must have been very exciting, finding this relic.”

“It was. When I was in the Army I spent some time in Egypt. That made it rather specially interesting. I just saw it lying there. The soil was damp and one of the gardeners was doing some planting. It was covered in hieroglyphics.”

“You needed the Rosetta Stone.”

He laughed.

“Oh, not quite so obscure as that. Your father translated it.”

“I’m glad of that. I was named after the stone, you know.”

“Yes, I did know. Felicity told me. How proud you must be.”

“I used to be. When I first went to the Museum I gazed at it in wonder.”

He laughed.

“Names are important. You would never! guess what my first name is.” S Tell me. ” | ” Hadrian. Just imagine being burdened with such a name. I People would constantly be asking how you were getting on with

the wall. Hadrian Edward Lucas Lorimer. Hadrian was out for reasons I’ve mentioned. Edward . well, there are a great number of Edwards in the world. Lucas is less used . so I became Lucas. But you realize what my initials make? It’s rather extraordinary. HELL.”

“I am sure it is most inappropriate,” I said with a laugh.

“Ah, but you do not know me. Have you another name?”

“No, just Rosetta Cranleigh.”

“R.C.”

“Not nearly so amusing as yours.”

“Yours suggests someone very devout, whereas I could be an imp of Satan. It’s significant, don’t you think … the suggestion of people in opposite spheres? I am sure it means something concerning our friendship to come. You are going to turn me from my evil ways and be a good influence on my life. I’d like to think it meant that.”

I laughed and we were silent for a while, then he said:

“You are interested in the mysteries of Egypt, I dare say. As your parents’ daughter you must be.”

“Well, in a mild way. At school one doesn’t have much time to be interested in what isn’t going on there.”

“I’d like to know what the words on my stone really meant.”

“I thought you said they had been translated.”

“Yes … in a way. All these things are so cryptic. The meaning is couched in words which are not quite clear.”

“Why do people have to be so obscure?”

“To bring in an element of mystery, don’t you think? It adds to the interest. It’s the same with people. When you discover subtleties in their characters you become more interested.”

He smiled at me, his eyes saying something which I did not understand.

“You will eventually discover that I am right,” he said.

“You mean when I’m older?”

“I believe you resent people referring to your youth.”

“Well, I suppose it implies that one is not yet capable of understanding much.”

“You should revel in your youth. The poets have said it passes too quickly.

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.” He smiled at me with a benignity which was almost tender.

I was a little thoughtful after that and I guessed that he was aware of it.

After dinner I went out with the ladies and when the men joined us I did not talk to him again.

Later Felicity asked me how I had liked him.

She said: “I saw you were getting on very well with him.”

“I think he is the sort who would get on well with anyone … superficially.”

She hesitated for a second, then she said: “Yes … you are right.”

It seemed significant afterwards that what I remembered most clearly about that visit was my meeting with Hadrian Edward Lucas Lorimer.

When I came home for the Christmas holiday my parents seemed more animated than usual . even excited. The only thing I imagine which could make them feel so would be some new knowledge they had acquired.

A breakthrough in their understanding of their work? A new stone to replace the Rosetta?

It was nothing of the sort.

As soon as I arrived they wanted to talk to me.

“Something rather interesting has occurred,” said my mother.

My father smiled at me indulgently, I thought.

“And,” he added, ‘it concerns you. “

I was startled.

“Let us explain,” said my mother.

“We have been invited to do a most interesting lecture tour. This takes us to Cape Town and on the way back to Baltimore and New York.”

“Oh? You will be away for a long time.”

“Your mother thinks it would be interesting to combine a holiday with work,” said my father.

“He has been working far too hard recently. Of course we will not leave it altogether. He can be working on his new book …”

“Of course,” I murmured.

“We plan to go by ship to Cape Town … a long sea voyage. We shall stay a few days there while your father does one of his lectures.

Meanwhile the ship goes on to Durban and we shall pick it up again when it returns to Cape Town. It is calling at Baltimore where we shall leave it again-another lecture-then we shall travel up to New York by land where your father will give the last of his lectures and then we shall take another ship for home. “

“It sounds very interesting.”

There was a slight pause.

My father looked at my mother and said: “We have decided that you shall accompany us.”

I was too astonished to speak. Then I stammered: “You … er … you really mean that?”

“It will be good for you to see a little of the world,” said my father benignly.

“When … when?” I asked.

“We are setting forth at the end of April. There will be a great many preparations to make.”

“I shall be at school.”

“You would be leaving at the end of the summer term in any case. We thought that little could be lost by cutting it short. After all, you will be nearly eighteen years of age. That is quite mature.”

“I hope you are pleased,” said my father.

“I am just… so surprised.”

They smiled at me.

“You will need to make your own preparations. You could consult Felicity Wills … or rather Grafton. She has become quite worldly since her marriage. She would know what you needed. Perhaps two or three evening dresses for functions . and some . er . suitable garments. “

“Oh yes … yes,” I said.

After brooding on the matter I was not sure whether I was pleased or not. The idea of travelling and seeing new places enthralled me. On the other hand I would be in the company of my parents and, I presumed, people so weighed down by their own scholarship that they would naturally reduce me to the status of an ignorant girl.

The prospect of new clothes was pleasant. I could not wait to consult Felicity.

I wrote to her and told her of the project.

She replied at once.

“How thrilling. James has to go up North for a few days in March. I have a wonderful nanny who adores Jamie and he her. So I could come to London for a few days and we’ll have an orgy of shopping.”

As the weeks passed the prospect of travelling abroad so enchanted me that I forgot the disadvantages that would go with it.

In due course Felicity came to London and as I had expected she threw herself wholeheartedly into the business of finding the right clothes. I was aware that she regarded me in a different light now that I was no longer a schoolgirl.

“Your hair is most striking,” she said.

“Your greatest asset. We’ll have to plan with that in mind.”

“My hair?” I had not thought about it before, except that it was unusually fair. It was long, straight and thick.

“It’s the colour of corn,” said Felicity.

“It’s what they call golden.

It really is very attractive. You’ll be able to do all sorts of things with it. You can wear it piled high on your head when you want to be dignified or tied back with a ribbon or even plaited when you want to look demure. You can have a lot of fun with it. And we’ll concentrate on blue to bring out the colour of your eyes. “

My parents had gone to Oxford so we reverted to old customs and had our meals in the kitchen. It was just like old times and we prevailed on Mr. Dolland to do his Hamlet or Henry V and the eerie excerpts from The Bells for the sake of the old days.

We missed Nanny Pollock but I wrote and told her what was happening and she was now very happy, completely absorbed by little Evelyn who was a ‘pickle’ and reminded her of what I had been at her age.

I paraded round the kitchen in my new garments which resulted in oohs and ahs from Meg and Emily and a few caustic comments from Mrs. Harlow who muttered something about fashions nowadays.

It was a very happy time and it did occur to me now and then that the preliminaries of travel might be more pleasant than the actuality.

It was with regret that I said goodbye to Felicity and she returned to Oxford. The day was fast approaching when we would set out for Tilbury to board the Atlantic Star.

There was constant talk of the coming trip in the kitchen. None of them had been abroad, not even Mr. Dolland, although he had almost gone to Ireland once; but that, as Mrs. Harlow pointed out, was another kettle of fish. I was going to see real foreign parts and that could be hazardous.

You never knew where you were with foreigners, commented Mrs. Harlow and I’d be seeing a lot of them. She wouldn’t have wanted to go, not even if she was offered a hundred pounds to do so.

Meg said: “Well, nobody’s going to offer you a hundred pounds to go abroad, Mrs. H. So you’re safe.”

Mrs. Harlow looked sourly at Meg who, according to her, was always getting above herself.

However, the constant talk of abroad-its attractions and its drawbacks-was suddenly overshadowed by the murder.

We first heard of it from the newsboys shouting in the streets. “

“Orrible murder. Man found shot through the head in empty farmhouse.”

Emily was sent out to buy a paper and Mr. Dolland sat at the table, wearing his spectacles and reading to the assembled company.

The murder was the main news at this time, there being nothing else’iof importance going on. It was called the Bindon Boys Murder and the Press dealt with it in lurid fashion so that people everywhere were reading of the case and wondering what was going to happen next.

Mr. Dolland had his own theories and Mrs. Harlow reckoned that Mr. Dolland had as good a notion of such things as any of the police. It was because of the plays he knew so much about and many of them were concerned with murder.

“They ought to call him in, I reckon,” she pronounced.

“He’d soon put them to rights.”

Meanwhile, basking in the glory of such admiration, Mr. Dolland would sit at the table and expound his views.

“It must be this young man,” he said.

“It all points to him, living with the family and not being one of them. That can be tricky, that can.”

“One wonders why he was brought in,” I said.

“Adopted son, it seems. I reckon he was jealous of this young man.

Jealousy can drive people to great lengths. “

“I could never abide empty houses,” said Mrs. Harlow.

“They give me the creeps.”

“Of course, the story is that he went into this empty farmhouse, this Bindon Boys as they call it, and shot him there,” went on Mr. Dolland.

“You see this Cosmo was the eldest son and that would have made the young man a bit jealous on its own, he being the outsider as it were.

Then there was this widow . Mirabel . they call her. He wanted her for himself and Cosmo takes her. Well, there’s your motive. He lures Cosmo to this empty farmhouse and shoots him. “

“He might have got away with it,” I said, ‘if the younger brother, Tristan . wasn’t that his name? if he hadn’t come in and caught him red-handed. “

I pieced the story together. There were two sons of Sir Edward Perrivale Cosmo and Tristan and also in the household was the adopted son, Simon, who had been brought there when he was five years old. Simon had been educated as a member of the family but, according to the evidence, he had always been aware that he was not quite one of them.

Sir Edward was a sick man and in fact had died at the time of the murder so he would probably have been quite unaware of it. Bindon Boys originally Bindon Bois, the Press told us, because of a copse nearby was a farmhouse on the Perrivale estate. It was in need of renovation and all three young men were concerned in the management of the estate which was a large one on the coast of Cornwall. The implication was that Simon had lured Cosmo to the derelict farmhouse and calmly shot him. He probably had plans for disposing of the body but Tristan had come in and caught him with the gun in his hand. There seemed to be ample motive. The adopted son must have been jealous of the other two; and it seemed he was in love with the widow to whom Cosmo was engaged to be married.

It was a source of great interest to the servants, and I must admit that I too began to be caught up in it.

Perhaps I was getting a little apprehensive about the coming trip with my parents and seized on something to take my thoughts away from it. I would become as animated as any of them when we sat round the kitchen table listening to Mr. Dolland pitting his wits against Scotland Yard.

“It’s what they call an open and shut case,” he pronounced.

“It would make a good play,” said Mrs. Harlow.

“Well, I am not sure of that,” replied Mr. Dolland.

“You know from the start who the murderer is. In a play there has to be a good deal of questioning and clues and things and then you come up with the surprise ending. “

“Perhaps it is not as simple as it appears,” I suggested.

“It might seem as if this Simon did it… but he says he didn’t.”

“Well, he would, wouldn’t he?” put in Mrs. Harlow.

“They all say that to save themselves and put the blame on someone else.”

Mr. Dolland pressed the palms of his hands together and looked up at the ceiling.

“Take the facts,” he said.

“A man brings a stranger into the house and treats him as his son. The others don’t want him … and the boy resents not being treated like one of the family. It builds up over the years. There’d be hatred in that house. Then there’s this widow. Cosmo’s going to marry her. There’s always been this feeling between them … so he killed Cosmo and Tristan comes in and finds him.”

“What fancy names,” said Meg with a little giggle.

“I’ve always been partial to fancy names.”

Everyone ignored the interruption and waited for Mr. Dolland to go on.

“Then there’s the widow woman. That would be the last straw. Cosmo gets everything. And what’s Simon? Just a bit better than a servant.

Resentment flares up. There you have the planned murder. Ah . but before he could dispose of the body Tristan comes in and foils his plan. Murders always go wrong in plays. They always have to or there wouldn’t have been a play and plays are based on real life. “

We all hung on his words.

Emily said: “I can’t help feeling sorry for that Simon.”

“Sorry for a murderer!” cried Mrs. Harlow.

“You’re out of your mind, girl. How would you like him to come along and put a bullet through your head?”

“He wouldn’t, would he? I’m not Cosmo.”

“You thank your lucky stars you’re not,” said Mrs. Harlow.

“And don’t interrupt Mr. Dolland.”

“All we can do,” went on the sage, ‘is wait and see. “

We did not have to wait long. The newsboys were shouting in the streets: “Dramatic turn in Bindon Boys case. Read all about it.”

We did . avidly. It seemed that the police had been on the point of arresting Simon Perrivale. Why they had delayed was a mystery to Mr. Dolland -and now Simon had disappeared.

“Where is Simon Perrivale?” demanded the headlines.

“Have you seen this man?” Then “Police on trail. Arrest expected hourly.”

“So,” pronounced Mr. Dolland.

“He has run away. He could not have said more clearly, I’m guilty. They’ll find him, never fear.”

“It’s to be hoped so,” added Mrs. Harlow.

“A body don’t feel safe in bed of nights with murderers running around.”

“He wouldn’t have reason to murder you, Mrs. Harlow,” said Meg.

“I wouldn’t trust him,” retorted Mrs. Harlow.

“They’ll soon find him,” said Mr. Dolland reassuringly.

“They’ll have their men searching everywhere.”

But the days passed and there was no news of a capture.

Then the case ceased to be headline news. The Queen’s Golden Jubilee was taking up the space and there was no room for a sordid murder with the chief suspect having left the scene. No doubt when he was captured there would be a fresh surge of interest; but in the meantime the news of Bindon Boys was banished to the back pages.

It was three days before we were due to depart when we had a caller.

I was in my room when my parents sent for me. I was to go to the drawing-room immediately. A surprise awaited me there. As I entered, Lucas Lorimer came forward to greet me.

“Mr. Lorimer tells me that you met at Mr. and Mrs. Grafton’s house,” said my mother.

“Why, yes,” I said, naively betraying my pleasure.

He took my hand, smiling into my eyes.

“It was such a pleasure to meet Professor Cranleigh’s daughter,” he said, complimenting both my father and me at the same time.

My parents were smiling on me indulgently.

“We have some good news,” said my father.

The three of them were watching me as though they were about to inform a child of a treat in store.

“Mr. Lorimer is sailing on the Atlantic Star,” said my mother.

“Really!” I cried in amazement.

Lucas Lorimer nodded.

“A great surprise for me and a great honour. I have been asked to give a talk on my discovery at the same time as Professor Cranleigh gives his lecture.”

I felt laughter bubbling up within me. I was amused by the fine distinction implied between a talk and a lecture. I could not really believe he was as modest as he sounded. The look in his eyes did not somehow fit his words.

“So,” went on my father, “Mr. Lorimer will be sailing with us on the Atlantic Star.”

“That,” I replied with truth, ‘will be very pleasant. “

“I can’t tell you how delighted I am to be going,” he said.

“I have often thought what a lucky day it was for me when I made that find in the garden.”

My father smiled and remarked that the message on the stone was a little difficult to decipher not the hieroglyphics, of course, but the meaning . the accurate meaning. It was typical, he went on to say, of the Arabic mind. Always fraught with obscurity.

“But that is what makes it all so interesting,” put in Lucas Lorimer.

“It was good of you to come and tell us of your invitation,” my father went on, ‘and your decision to accept. “

“My dear Professor, how could I refuse the honour of sharing a platform with you … well, not exactly sharing, but being allowed to follow in your footsteps, shall I say?”

My parents were clearly delighted, which showed they could emerge from the rarified atmosphere in which they usually lived to bask in a little flattery.

He was asked to luncheon, when we discussed the journey and my father, encouraged by my mother, went on to talk of the subject of the lectures he would be giving in South Africa and North America.

I could only think: he will be on the ship with us. He will be in foreign places with us. And a considerable excitement had been injected into the prospect.

In a way it took the edge off my apprehension.

Lucas Lorimer’s presence would certainly add a spice to the adventure.

Boarding a ship for the first time was an exhilarating experience. I had driven to Tilbury with my parents and had sat demurely listening to their conversation on the way down, which was mainly about the lectures my father would give. I was rather pleased about this because it relieved me of the strain of talking. He did refer to Lucas Lorimer and wondered how his talk would be received.

“He will have only a superficial knowledge of the subject, of course, but I have heard he has a light-hearted way of representing it. Not the right approach, but a little lightness seems to be acceptable now and then.”

“He will be talking to people of knowledge, I hope,” said my mother.

“Oh yes.” My father turned to smile at me.

“If there are any questions you wish to ask, you must not hesitate to do so, Rosetta.”

“Yes,” added my mother, ‘if you know a little it will enhance your enjoyment of the lectures. “

I thanked them and fancied they were not entirely dissatisfied with me.

I had a cabin next to my parents which I was to share with a girl who was going to South Africa to join her parents who were farming there. She had left school, and was a little older than I. Her name was Mary Kelpin and she was pleasant enough. She had travelled this way several times and was more knowledgeable than I. She chose the lower of the two bunks, which I did not mind in the least. I imagined I should have felt a little stifled sleeping below.

She meticulously divided the wardrobe we had to share; and I thought that, for the time we were at sea, we should get on well.

It was early evening when we set sail and almost immediately Lucas Lorimer discovered us. I heard his voice in my parents’ cabin. I did not join them but decided to explore the ship. I went up the companionway to the public rooms and then out to the deck to take the last glimpse of the dock before we sailed. I was leaning on the rail studying the activity below when he came upon me.

“I guessed you’d be here,” he said.

“You’d want to see the ship sail.”

“Yes, I did,” I replied.

“Isn’t it amusing that we are taking the trip together?”

“Amusing?”

“I am sure it will be. A delightful coincidence.”

“It has all come about very naturally. Can you call that a coincidence?”

“I can see you are a stickler for the niceties of the English language. You must help me compile my speech.”

“Haven’t you done it yet? My father has been working on his for ages.”

“He’s a professional. Mine will be very different. I shall go on about the mysticism of the East. A sort of Arabian Nights flavour.”

“Don’t forget you will be talking to experts.”

“Oh, I-hope to appeal to a wider audience the imaginative, romantic sort.”

“I am sure you will.”

“I’m so glad we’re sailing together,” he said.

“And now you are no longer a schoolgirl … that is exciting in itself, is it not?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“On the threshold of life … and adventure.”

The sound of a hooter rent the air.

“I think that means we are about to sail. Yes, it does. Adieu, England. Welcome new lands … new sights … new adventures.”

He was laughing. I felt exhilarated and glad because he was with us.

I continued to be so. My parents were made much of by the Captain and certain other travellers. The information that they were going to lecture in Cape Town and Northern America quickly spread and they were regarded with some awe. Lucas was very popular and in great demand. I knew why. He was one of those people who are without inhibitions; when he arrived at a gathering there was immediate laughter and general animation. He had the ability to make everything seem amusing.

He was charming to me, but then he was to everybody. He went through life smoothly and easily, and I imagine getting his own way because of this rare gift of his.

My cabin mate was greatly impressed.

“What a charming man!” she said.

“And you knew him before you came on board. Lucky you!”

“Well, I met him briefly at a dinner party, and then he called to tell us he would be on board.”

“It’s because of your father, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?”

“That he is so friendly.”

“He’s friendly with everyone.”

“He’s very attractive … too attractive,” she added ominously and regarding me speculatively. She was inclined to regard me as a simpleton because I had foolishly told her that I had cut school short to come on this trip. She had left the previous year, so must have been a year or so older than I. I had an idea she was warning me against Lucas. There was no need, I wanted to tell her fiercely; and then I feared I might be too fierce.

She was right in one thing; I was ignorant of the ways of the world.

But the time I spent with Lucas was certainly enjoyable.

During the first days we found a sheltered spot on the deck, for at that time the sea was a little rough and the wind strong. My parents spent a good deal of time in their cabin and I was left free to explore.

This I did with great interest and soon learned my way about the ship.

I found the small cabin restricting, especially as it had to be shared with the rather loquacious and faintly patronizing Mary. I was glad to get out of it as much as possible. I found my top bunk a little stifling. I would wake early and lie there waiting for it to be time to get up.

Then I discovered that I could descend the ladder without waking Mary.

I could slip on a few things and go out on deck. The early morning was exhilarating. I would sit in our sheltered spot and look out over the sea, watching the sunrise. I loved to see the morning sky, sometimes delicately pearl, at others blood red. I would picture figures in the formation of the clouds as they drifted across the sky and listen to the waves swishing against the sides of the ship. It was never quite the same at any other time as it was in the morning.

There was a man in blue overalls who used to swab that part of the deck where I sat each morning. I had struck up an acquaintance with him . if it could be called that. He would come along with his mop and pail, tip out the water and swab away.

At such an hour the deck was almost deserted.

As he approached I said: “Good morning. I came out for a breath of fresh air. It was stifling in the cabin.”

“Oh yes,” he said, and went on swabbing.

“Am I in your way? I’d better move.”

“Oh no. It’s all right. I’ll go round and do that bit later.”

It was a cultured voice devoid of accent. I studied him fairly tall, light brown hair and rather sad eyes.

“You don’t get many people sitting out at this hour,” I said.

“No.”

“I expect you think I’m crazy.”

“No … no. I understand you want to get the air. And this is the best time of the day.”

“Oh, I do agree.”

I insisted on getting up and he moved my chair and went on swabbing.

That was the first morning I saw him and on the next one I met him again. By the third morning I imagined he looked for me. It was not exactly an assignation, but it seemed to have become part of the day’s ritual. We exchanged a few words.

“Good morning … it’s a nice day .” and so on. He always kept his head down when he was swabbing, as though completely absorbed by what he was doing.

“You like the sea, don’t you?” he said on the fourth morning.

I said I believed I did. I was not sure yet as it was the first time I’d been on it.

“It takes a grip on you. It’s fascinating. It can change so quickly.”

“Like life,” I said, thinking of the changes in mine.

He did not answer and I went on: “I suppose you’ve had great experience of the sea?”

He shook his head and moved away.

Mealtimes on board were interesting. Lucas Lorimer, as a friend, sat at our table and Captain Graysom had made a pleasant custom of taking his seat at each table in turn during the voyage so that he could get to know most of his passengers. He had many stories to tell of his adventures at sea and that happy custom made it possible for all to hear of them.

“It is easy for him,” said Lucas.

“He has his repertoire and all he has to do is give a repeat performance at each table. You notice he knows just where to pause for the laugh and get the best dramatic effects.”

“You are a little like that,” I told him.

“Oh, I wasn’t suggesting repetition, but you know where the pauses should come, too.”

“I see that you know me too well for my comfort.”

“Well then, let me comfort you. I think one of the greatest gifts one can have is the ability to make people laugh.”

He took my hand and kissed it.

My parents, who were at the table when this dialogue took place, were a little startled. I think it might have brought home to them that I was growing up.

Lucas and I were taking a walk round the deck when we encountered Captain Graysom. He used to walk round the ship every day to assure himself, I supposed, that everything was in order.

“All well?” he asked as he approached.

“Very well indeed,” answered Lucas.

“Getting your sea legs now? They don’t always come at once. But we’ve been moderately lucky in the weather … so far.”

“Isn’t it going to continue?” I asked.

“You need a wiser man than I am to tell you that, Miss Cranleigh. We can only forecast… and never with absolute certainty. The weather is unpredictable. All the signs look good and then something quite unforeseen appears on the horizon and our forecasts go awry.”

“Predictability can be a little dull,” said Lucas.

“There is always a certain attraction in the unexpected.”

“I’m not sure that applies to the weather,” said the Cap tain.

“We’ll shortly be putting into Madeira. You’ll go ashore?”

“Oh, yes,” I cried.

“I’m looking forward to that.”

“It’s a pity we only have one day there,” said Lucas.

“Just long enough to pick up stores. You’ll like the island. You must sample the wine. It’s good.”

Then he left us.

“What plans have you for Madeira?” asked Lucas.

“My parents haven’t said anything yet.”

“I should like to escort you round the place.”

“Oh, thank you. Have you been there before?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“So you will be safe with me.”

It was exhilarating to wake up in the morning and see land. I was on deck early to watch our approach. I could see the green lush island rising out of a pellucid aquamarine-coloured sea. The sun was warm and there was no wind to disturb the water.

My father had a slight cold and was staying on board;

he had plenty to occupy him; and my mother would be with him. They thought it would be an excellent idea if I went ashore with Mr. Lorimer who had kindly offered to take me.

I was content, feeling somewhat guiltily, how much more enjoyable it would be without them. Lucas did not say so, but I felt sure he shared my view.

“Having been here before I shall know something about it,” he said.

“And if there is anything of which I am ignorant-‘ ” Which is most unlikely. “

“We shall discover it together,” he finished.

And on that note we set out.

I drew deep breaths of air which seemed scented with flowers. Indeed, there were flowers everywhere. Stalls were overflowing with brilliantly coloured blossoms, as well as baskets, embroidered bags, shawls and tablecloths and mats.

compamo and I thoi the Professor. I was honoured . and look, it has led to this. So call it a talk. That’s much more cosy. As a matter of fact, I have a feeling it will shock your parents. It’s about gruesome things like curses and tomb robbers. “

“People might enjoy hearing about that sort of thing rather than .. “

“I’m not letting it bother me. If they don’t like it that will be that. So… I refuse to allow preparations to overshadow my pleasure.

It’s the greatest good luck that we are travelling together. “

“It’s certainly pleasant for me.”

“We’re getting maudlin. It’s the wine perhaps. It’s good, isn’t it? We must buy a bottle to show our appreciation of the free sample.”

“I hope all the free samples make it worthwhile.”

“Must do, or they wouldn’t continue with the old custom, would they?

In the meantime it is very pleasant sitting here in this darkish room, on these uncomfortable stools, sipping their excellent Madeira wine.”

Several of our fellow passengers came into the cellar. We called greetings to each other. They all looked as though they were enjoying the day.

Then a young man walked past our table, i “Oh hello,” said Lucas.

The young man paused.

“Oh,” said Lucas, “I thought I knew you.”

The young man stared at Lucas stonily and then I recognized him, which I had not done previously because he was not on this occasion wearing the overalls in which I had always seen him before. He was the young man who swabbed the decks in the morning.

“No,” he said.

“I don’t think …”

“Sorry. I just thought for the moment I’d met you somewhere.”

I smiled and said: “You must have seen each other on board.”

The deck hand had drawn himself up rather tensely and was studying Lucas, I thought, with a hint of uneasiness.

“That must be it,” said Lucas.

The young man passed on and sat at a table in a dark corner of the cellar.

I whispered to Lucas: “He is one of the deck hands.”

“You seem to be acquainted with him.”

“I have met him on several mornings. I go up there to watch the sunrise and he comes round at that time swabbing the decks.”

“He doesn’t look like a deck-swabber.”

“That’s because he’s not in overalls.”

“Well, thanks for enlightening me. The poor chap seemed a bit embarrassed. I hope he enjoys the wine as much as I have done. Come on. Let’s buy a bottle to take back to the ship. Perhaps we’d better get two. We’ll drink it at dinner tonight.”

We bought the wine and came out into the sunshine.

Slowly we made our way back to the launch which would take us to the ship. On the quay we stopped at a stall and Lucas bought one of the bags for me. It was heavily embroidered with scarlet and blue flowers.

“A memento of a happy day,” he said.

“To say thank you for letting me share it with you.”

I thought how gracious and charming he was; he had certainly given me a happy day.

“I shall always remember it when I see this bag,” I told him.

“The flowers … the bullock carts and the wine …”

“And even the swabber of decks.”

“I shall remember every minute of it,” I assured him.

Friendship grows quickly at sea.

After Madeira we were in balmy weather with smooth seas. Lucas and I seemed to have become even firmer friends since our day ashore.

Without making arrangements we met regularly on deck. He would seat himself beside me and we would talk desultorily as we watched the calm sea glide past.

He told me a great deal about himself, how he had broken the tradition in the family that one of the sons should have a career in the Army.

But it was not for him. He was not really sure what was for him. He was restless and travelled a good deal, usually in the company of Dick Duvane, his ex-batman and friend. Dick had left the Army when he had and they had been together ever since. Dick was in Cornwall now, making himself useful on the estate, which Lucas supposed was something he would have to come to eventually.

“Just at the moment I’m uncertain,” he said.

“There is enough to do on the estate to keep both my brother and me occupied. I suppose it would have been different if I had inherited. My brother Carleton is in charge and he’s the perfect squire … such as I should never be.

He’s the best fellow in the world, but I don’t like playing second fiddle. It’s against my arrogant nature. So . since leaving the Army, I’ve drifted a bit. I’ve travelled a great deal. Egypt has always fascinated me and when I found the stone in the garden it seemed like fate. And so it was, because here am I at the moment, travelling with the elite such as your parents . and of course their charming daughter. And all because I found a stone in the garden. But I am talking all this time about myself. What of you? What are your plans?”

“I haven’t made any. I’ve cut school, you know, to come here. Who knows what the future holds?”

“No one can be sure, of course, but sometimes one has the opportunity to mould it.”

“Have you moulded yours?”

“I am in the process of doing so.”

“And your brother’s estate is in Cornwall.”

“Yes. As a matter of fact, it’s not far from that place which has been in the papers recently.”

“Oh … what’s that?”

“Did you read about the young man who was on the point of being arrested and disappeared?”

“Oh yes. I remember. Wasn’t it Simon somebody? Perrivale, was it?”

“That’s it. He took his name from the man who adopted him. Sir Edward Perrivale. Their place is some six or eight miles from ours. Perrivale Court. It’s a wonderful old mansion I went there once… long ago.

It was about something my father was involved in to do with the neighbourhood and Sir Edward was interested. I rode over with my father. When I read about the case in the papers it all came back.

There were two brothers and the adopted one. We were all shocked when we read about it. One doesn’t expect that sort of thing to happen to people one knows . however slightly. “

“How very interesting. There was a lot of talk about it in our house . among the servants … not my parents.”

While we were talking, the deck-swabber came by, trundling a trolley on which were bottles of beer.

“Good morning,” I called.

He nodded his head in acknowledgement and went on wheeling.

“A friend of yours? ” said Lucas.

“He’s the one who swabs the deck. Remember, he was in the wine cellar.”

“Oh yes … I remember. Seems a bit surly, doesn’t he?”

“He’s a little reserved, perhaps. It may be that they are not supposed to talk to passengers.”

“He seems different from the others.”

“Yes, I thought so. He never says much more than good-morning and perhaps a comment on the weather.”

We dismissed the man from our minds and talked of other things. He told me about the estate in Cornwall and some of the eccentric people who lived there. I told him about my home life and Mr. Dolland’s ‘turns’; and I had him laughing at my descriptions of kitchen life.

“You seem to have enjoyed it very much.”

“Oh, I was fortunate.”

“Do your parents know?”

“They are not really interested in anything that happened after the birth of Christ.”

And so we talked.

The next morning when I took my seat on deck in the early morning, I saw the deck-swabber, but he did not come near me.

We were heading for Cape Town and the wind had been rising all day. I had seen little of my parents. They spent a lot of time in their cabin. My father was perfecting his lecture and working on his book and my mother was helping him. I saw them at meals when they regarded me with that benign absentmindedness to which I had become accustomed. My father asked if I had plenty to do. I might come to his cabin where he would give me something to read. I assured him I was enjoying shipboard life, I had something to read and Mr. Lorimer and I had become good friends. This seemed to bring them some relief and they went back to their work.

The Captain, who dined with us occasionally, told us that some of the worst storms he had encountered had been round the Cape. It was known to ancient mariners as the Cape of Storms. In any case we could not expect the calm weather we had enjoyed so far to be always with us. We must take the rough with the smooth. We were certainly about to take the rough.

My parents stayed in their cabin but I felt the need for fresh air and went out on to the open deck.

I was unprepared for the fury which met me. The ship was being roughly buffeted and felt as though she were made of cork. She pitched and tossed to such an extent that I thought she was about to turn over. The tall waves rose like menacing mountains as they fell and drenched the deck. The wind tore at my hair and clothes. I felt as though the angry sea was attempting to lift me up and take me overboard.

It was alarming and yet at the same time exhilarating.

I was wet through with sea-water and found it almost impossible to stand up. Breathlessly I clung to the rail.

As I stood there debating whether it was wise to cross the slippery deck and at least get away from the direct fury of the gale, I saw the deck hand. He swayed towards me, his clothes damp. The spray had darkened his hair so that it looked like a black cap and sea-water glistened on his face.

“Are you all right?” he shouted at me.

“Yes,” I shouted back.

“Shouldn’t be up here. Ought to get down.”

“Yes,” I cried.

“Come on. I’ll help you.”

He staggered to me and fell against me.

“Is it often as rough as this?” I panted.

“Haven’t seen it. My first voyage.”

He had taken my arm and we rolled drunkenly across the deck. He opened a door and pushed me inside.

“There,” he said.

“Don’t venture out in a sea like this again.”

Before I could thank him, he was gone.

Staggering, I made my way to my cabin. Mary Kelpin was lying on the lower bunk. She was feeling decidedly unwell.

I said I would look in on my parents. They were both prostrate.

I came back to my cabin, took a book, climbed to the top bunk and tried to read. It was not very easy.

All through the afternoon we were waiting for the storm to abate. The ship went on her rocky way, creaking and groaning as though in agony.

By evening the wind had dropped a little. I managed to get down to the dining-room. The fiddles were up on the tables to prevent the crockery sliding off and there were very few people there. I soon saw Lucas.

“Ah,” he said, ‘not many of us brave enough to face the dining-room.”

“Have you ever seen such a storm?”

“Yes, once when I was coming home from Egypt. We passed Gibraltar and were coming up to the Bay. I thought my last hour had come.”

“That is what I thought this afternoon.”

“She’ll weather the storm. Perhaps tomorrow the sea will be as calm as a lake, and we shall wonder what all the fuss was about. Where are your parents?”

“In their cabin. They did not feel like coming down.”

“In common with many others obviously.”

I told him I had been on deck and had been rather severely reprimanded by the deck hand.

“He was quite right,” said Lucas.

“It must have been highly dangerous.

You could easily have been washed overboard. I reckon we were on the edge of a hurricane. “

“It makes you realize how hazardous the sea can be.”

“Indeed it does. One should never take the elements lightly. The sea like fire … is a good friend but a bad enemy.”

“I wonder what it is like to be shipwrecked.”

“Horrendous.”

“Adrift in an open boat,” I murmured.

“Much more disagreeable than it sounds.”

“Yes, I imagine so. But it seems the storm is dying down now.”

“I’d never trust it. We have to be prepared for all weather. This has been a salutary lesson to us, perhaps.”

“People don’t always learn their lessons.”

“I don’t know why when they have a good example of how treacherous the sea can be. Smiling one moment … angry … venomous … the next.”

“I hope we shall encounter no more hurricanes.”

It was past ten o’clock when I reached my cabin. Mary Kelpin was in her bed. I went to the next cabin to say good-night to my parents. My father was lying down and my mother was reading some papers.

I told them I had dined with Lucas Lorimer and was now going to bed.

“Let’s hope the ship is a little steadier by morning,” said my mother.

“This perpetual motion disturbs your father’s train of thought, and there is still some work to do on the lecture.”

I slept fitfully and woke in the early hours of the morning. The wind was rising and the ship was moving even more erratically than it had during the day. I was in danger of being thrown out of my bunk and sleep was impossible. I lay still, listening to the wailing and shrieking of the gale and the sound of the heavy waves as they lashed the sides of the ship.

And then . suddenly I heard a violent clanging of bells. I knew at once what this meant for on our first day at sea we had taken part in a drill which would make us prepared, in some small way, for an emergency. We were told then that we were to put on warm clothing, together with our lifejackets which were kept in the cupboard in our cabins, and make for the assembly point which had been chosen for us.

I leaped down from my bunk. Mary Kelpin was already dressing.

“This is it,” she said.

“That ghastly wind … and now … this.”

Her teeth were chattering and space was limited. It was not easy for us both to dress at the same time.

She was ready before I was, and when I had fumbled with buttons and donned my life jacket I hurried from the cabin to that of my parents.

The bells continued to sound their alarming note. My parents were looking bewildered, my father agitatedly gathering papers together.

I said: “There is no time for that now. Come along. Get these warm things on and where are your lifejackets?”

I then had the unique experience of realizing that a little quiet common sense has its advantages over erudition. They were pathetically meek and put themselves in my hands; at last we were ready to leave the cabin.

The alleyway was deserted. My father stopped short and some papers he was carrying fell from his hands. I hurriedly picked them up.

“Oh,” he said in horror.

“I’ve left behind the notes I made yesterday.”

“Never mind. Our lives are more important than your notes,” I said.

He stood still.

“I can’t … I couldn’t … I must go and get them.”

My mother said: “Your father must have his notes, Rosetta.”

I saw the stubborn look on their faces and I said hurriedly:

“I’ll go and get them. You go up to the lounge where we are supposed to assemble. I’ll get the notes. Where are they?”

“In the top drawer,” said my mother.

I gave them a little push towards the companionway which led to the lounge and I turned back. The notes were not in the top drawer. I searched and found them in a lower one. My life jacket rendered movement rather difficult. I grabbed the notes and hurried out.

The bells had stopped ringing. It was difficult to stand upright. The ship lurched and I almost fell as I mounted the companionway. There was no sign of my parents. I guessed they must have joined others at the assembly point and been hustled on deck to where the lifeboats would be waiting for them.

The violence of the storm had increased. I stumbled and slid until I came to rest at the bulkhead. Picking myself up, feeling dazed, I looked about for my parents. I wondered where they could have gone in the short time I had taken to retrieve the notes. I was clutching them in my hands now as I managed to make my way to the deck. There was pandemonium. People were surging towards the rail. In vain I looked among them for my parents. I suddenly felt terrifyingly alone among that pushing screaming crowd.

It was horrific. The wind seemed to take a malicious delight in tormenting us. My hair was loose and flying wildly about my head, being tossed over my eyes so that I could not see. The notes were pulled from my hands. For a few seconds I watched them doing a frivolous dance above my head before they were snatched-up by the violent wind, fluttered and fell into that seething mass of water.

We should have stayed together, I thought. And then:

Why? We have never been together. But this was different. This was danger. It was Death staring us in the face. Surely a few notes were not worth parting for at such a time?

Some people were getting into boats. I realized that my turn would not come for a long time . and when I saw the frail boats descending into that malignant sea, I was not sure that I wanted to trust myself to one of them.

The ship gave a sudden shivering groan as though it could endure no more. We seemed to keel over and I was standing in water. Then I saw one of the boats turn over as it was lowered. I heard the shrieks of its occupants as the sea hungrily caught them and drew them down.

I felt dazed and somewhat aloof from the scene. Death seemed almost certain. I was going to lose my life almost before it had begun. I started thinking of the past, which people say you do when you are drowning. But I was not drowning . yet. Here I was on this leaky frail vessel, facing the unprecedented fury of the elements, and I knew that at any moment I could be flung from the comparative safety of the deck into that grey sea in which no one could have a hope of survival. The noise was deafening; the shrieks and prayers of the people calling to God to save them from the fury of the sea . the sound of the raging tempest. the violent howling of the wind and the mountainous seas . they were like something out of Dante’s Inferno.

There was nothing to be done. I suppose the first thought of people faced with death is to save themselves. Perhaps when one is young death seems so remote that one cannot take it seriously. It is something which happens to other people, old people at that; one cannot imagine a world without oneself; one feels oneself to be immortal. I knew that many this night would lie in a watery grave but I could not really believe that I should be one of them.

I stood there . dazed . waiting . striving to catch a glimpse of my parents. I thought of Lucas Lorimer. Where was he? I wished I could see him. I thought fleetingly that he would probably still be calm and a little cynical. Would he talk of death as nonchalantly as he did of life?

Then I saw the overturned boat. It was being tossed about in the water. It came close to the spot where I was standing. Then it had righted itself and was bobbing about below me.

Someone had roughly caught my arm.

“You’ll be washed overboard in a minute if you stay here.”

I turned. It was the deck hand.

“She’s finished. She’ll turn over … it’s certain.”

His face was wet with spray. He was staring at the boat which the violent wind had brought close to the ship’s side. A giant wave brought it almost level with us.

He shouted: “It’s a chance. Come on. Jump.”

I was surprised to find that I obeyed. He had my arm still in a grip. It seemed unreal. I was sailing through the air and then plunging right down into that seething sea.

We were beside the boat.

“Grip!” he shouted above the tumult.

Instinctively I obeyed. He was very close to me. It seemed minutes but it could only have been seconds before he was in the boat. I was still clinging to the sides. Then his hands were on me. He was hauling me in beside him.

It was just in time. The boat was lifted up on the crest of an enormous wave. His arms were about me and he was holding me tightly.

“Hang on … hang on … for your life,” he cried.

It was a miracle. We were still in the boat.

We were breathless. , “Hang on. Hang on,” he kept shouting.

I am not sure what happened in the minutes that followed. I just knew that I was roughly buffeted and that the velocity of the wind took my breath away. I was aware of a violent crash as the Atlantic Star seemed to rise in the air and then keel over. I was blinded by the sea; my mouth was full of it. We were on the crest of the waves one moment, down in the depths of the ocean the next.

I had escaped from the sinking ship to a small boat which it seemed certain could not survive in such a sea.

This must be the end.

Time had ceased to register. I had no idea how long I was clinging to the sides of the boat, while only one thing seemed important: to stay on.

I was aware of the man close to me.

He shouted against the wind.

“We’re still afloat. How long …”

His voice was lost in the turmoil.

I could just make out the Atlantic Star. She was still in the water but at an unusual angle. Her prow seemed to have disappeared. I knew that there could be little chance of anyone’s surviving on her.

We continued to rock uncertainly, waiting for each wave which might end our lives. All about us the sea roared and raged . such a flimsy craft to defy that monster sea. I found myself wondering what would have happened to me if this man had not come along when he did and made me jump with him. What a miracle! I could scarcely believe it had happened. I thought of my parents. Where were they? Could they have escaped?

Then it seemed as though the storm was a little less fierce. Was it my fancy? Perhaps it was a temporary lull. But it was a small respite.

One of the lifeboats was coming close to us. I scanned it anxiously in the hope that my parents might be in it. I saw the strained white faces . unrecognizable . unfamiliar. Then suddenly a wave caught the boat. For a second or so it hung suspended in the air and then it was completely enveloped by another giant wave. I heard the screams. The boat was still there. It was lifted high again. It seemed to stand perpendicular. I saw bodies tipped into the sea. Then the boat fell back and was overturned. It was upside down in the water before it rose again as the sea tossed it aside as a child might have done when a toy it had been playing with suddenly bored it.

I saw heads bobbing in the water for what seemed interminable minutes and then disappearing.

I heard my rescuer shouting: “Look. Someone’s drifting towards us.” It was a man. His head suddenly appeared close to us.

“Let’s get him on board … quick … or he’ll go under and take us with him.”

I stretched out my arms. I was overcome with the emotion which assailed me then for the man we were attempting to haul into the boat was Lucas Lorimer. It was a long time before we succeeded. He collapsed and lay face downwards. He was very still. I wanted to shout at him: You’re safe, Lucas. And I thought: As safe as any of us can be.

We turned him over onto his back. Recognizing him, my companion caught his breath. He shouted to me: “He’s in a bad way.”

“What can we do?”

“He’s half drowned.”

He bent over Lucas and started to pump the water out of his lungs. He was trying to save Lucas’s life and I wondered then how long he would be able to keep at it.

It was helpful to have something to do. He was succeeding. Lucas looked a little more alive.

I noticed there was something odd about his left leg. Every now and then one of his hands would move to it and touch it. He was only half-conscious but he was aware that something there was wrong.

“Can’t do any more,” murmured my rescuer.

“Will he be all right?”

He lifted his shoulders.

It must have been two hours or so before the wind started to subside.

The gusts were less frequent at first and we were still afloat.

Lucas had not opened his eyes; he lay at the bottom of the boat, inert. My other companion was tinkering with the boat. I did not know what he was doing but it seemed important and the fact that we had kept afloat told me that he must have some knowledge of how the thing worked. He looked up and caught me watching him. He said:

“Get some sleep. You’re exhausted.”

“You too …”

“Oh … there’s enough to keep me awake.”

“It’s better now, isn’t it?

Have we a chance? “

“Of being picked up? Perhaps. We’re in luck.

There’s a can of water and a tin of biscuits here . shut away under the seat. Put there as emergency rations. That will help us to keep going for a bit. Water’s most important. We can survive on that for a while. “

“And him …” I pointed to Lucas.

“In a bad way. He’s breathing though. He was half drowned … and it looks as though his leg’s broken.”

“Can we do anything?”

He shook his head.

“Nothing. No supplies. He’ll have to wait. We’ve got to look for a sail. Nothing you can do so try to sleep. You’ll feel better.”

“What about you?”

“Later, perhaps. Nothing more we can do for him. Have to go the way the wind takes us. Can’t steer. If we’re lucky we’ll hit the trade routes. If not…” He shrugged his shoulders. Then he said almost gently: “Best thing for you is to get some sleep. That will work wonders.”

I closed my eyes and, to my later amazement, I obeyed.

When I awoke the sun had risen. So a new day had broken. I looked about me. The sky was stained red which threw a pink reflection over the sea. There was still a strong breeze which set white crests on the waves. It meant that we were moving along at a fair pace. Where to, was anyone’s guess. We were at the mercy of the wind.

Lucas lay still at the bottom of the boat. The other man was watching me intently.

“You sleep?” he asked.

“Yes, for a long time, it seems.”

“You needed it. Feel better?”

I nodded.

“What’s happened?”

“You can see we are in calmer waters.”

“The storm has gone.”

“Keep your fingers crossed. It’s abated for the time being. Of course, it can spring up in a matter of minutes … but at the same time we’ve got a second chance.”

“Do you think there is a hope of our being picked up?”

“Fifty-fifty chance.”

“And if not?”

“The water won’t last long.”

“You said something about biscuits.”

“H’m. But water is most important. We’ll have to ration it.”

“What about him?” I asked, indicating Lucas.

“You know him.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes. We were friends on board.”

“I’ve seen you talking to him.”

“Is he badly hurt?”

“I don’t know. We can’t do anything about it.”

“What of his leg?”

“Needs setting, I expect. We’ve nothing here …”

“I wish …”

“Don’t wish for too much. Fate might think you were greedy. We’ve just had what must be one of the most miraculous escapes possible.”

“I know. Thanks to you.”

He smiled at me rather shyly.

“We’ve still got to go on hoping for miracles,” he said.

“I wish we could do something for him.”

He shook his head.

“We have to be careful. We could overturn in half a second. He’s got to take a chance just as we have.”

I nodded.

“My parents …” I began.

“It could be that they got into one of the boats.”

“I saw one of the boats go off … and go under.”

“Not much hope for any of them.”

“I’m amazed that this little craft survived. If we get out of this it will be entirely due to you.”

We fell into silence and after a while he took out the water can. We each took a mouthful.

He screwed it up carefully.

“We’ll have to eke it out,” he said.

“It’s lifeblood to us … remember.”

I nodded.

The hours slipped by. Lucas opened his eyes and they alighted on me.

“Rosetta?” he murmured.

“Yes, Lucas?”

“Where …” His lips formed the word but hardly any sound came.

“We’re in a lifeboat. The ship has sunk, I think. You’re all right.

You’re with me and . “

It was absurd not to know his name. He might have once been a deck hand but now he was our saviour, the man in charge of our brilliant rescue.

Lucas could not hear properly in any case. He showed no surprise but shut his eyes. He said something. I had to lean over him to catch it.

“My leg …”

We ought to do something about it. But what? We had no medical supplies, and we had to be careful how we moved about the boat. Even on this mild sea it could bob about in an alarming fashion and I knew it would be easy for one of us to be thrown overboard.

The sun came up and the heat was intense. Fortunately the breeze -now a light one-persisted. It was now blowing us gently along but neither of us had any notion in what direction.

“It will be easier when the stars come out,” said our rescuer.

I had learned his name which was John Player. I fancied he had admitted to it with a certain reluctance.

“Do you mind if I call you John?” I asked, and he had replied: “Then I shall call you Rosetta. We are on equal terms now … no longer passenger and deck hand. The fear of death is a good leveller.” I replied: “I do not need such fear to call you by your Christian name. It would be absurd to shout, ” Mr. Player, I am drowning. Please rescue me. “

“Quite absurd,” he had agreed.

“But I hope you will never have to do that.”

I asked him: “Shall you be able to steer by the stars, John?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I am no trained navigator, but one picks up a bit at sea. At least if we get a clear night we might have some idea of where we are heading for. It was too cloudy last night to see anything. “

“The direction could change. After all, you said it de pended on the wind.”

“Yes, we have to go where we are taken. That gives one a great sense of helplessness.”

“Like depending on others for the essential things in life. Do you think Mr. Lorimer is going to die?”

“He looks strong enough. I think the main trouble is his leg. He must have got a battering when the lifeboat overturned.”

“I wish we could do something.”

“The best thing is to keep our eyes open. If we see the smallest sign on the horizon we must do something to attract attention. Put up a flag …”

“Where could we find a flag?”

“One of your petticoats on a stick … something like that.”

“I think you are very resourceful.”

“Maybe, but what I am looking for now is another piece of luck.”

“It may be that we had our share when we got away from the wreck.”

“Well, we need a little bit more. In the meantime, let’s do our best to find it. Keep your eyes open. The least speck on the horizon and we’ll send up a signal of some sort.”

The morning passed slowly. It was afternoon. We drifted slowly along.

Lucas opened his eyes now and then and spoke, although it was clear that he was not fully aware of the situation.

The sun was fortunately obscured by a few clouds which made it more bearable. I did not know what would be worse rain which might mean a storm or this burning heat. John Player had suddenly dropped into a sleep of exhaustion. He looked very young thus. I wondered about him. It took my mind off the present desperate situation. How had he come to be a deck hand? I was sure there was some hidden past. There was an air of mystery about him. He was secretive . almost furtively watchful. At least during the last hours I had not noticed these qualities because he was intent on one thing. saving our lives. That had brought about a certain relationship between us. I suppose it was natural that it should.

I could not keep my mind from my parents. I tried to imagine them coming out on to that deck in that childlike, bewildered way in which they faced life which did not centre round the British Museum. They were quite unaware of the practicalities of life. They had never had to bother about them. Others had done that, leaving them free to pursue their studies.

Where were they now? I thought of them with a kind of tender exasperation.

I imagined their being hustled into a lifeboat . my father still mourning the loss of his notes rather than his daughter.

Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps they had cared for me more than I realized. Hadn’t they called me Rosetta, after the precious stone?

I scanned the horizon. I must not forget that I was on watch. I must be ready if a ship came into sight. I had removed my petticoat and it was attached to a piece of wood. If I saw anything like another craft, I would wake John and lose no time in waving my improvised flag madly.

The day wore on and there was nothing-only that wide expanse of water all around us . everywhere . to the horizon . wherever I looked there was emptiness.

Darkness had fallen. John Player had awakened. He was ashamed to have slept so long.

“You needed it,” I told him.

“You were absolutely worn out.

“And you kept watch?”

“I swear to you there has been no sign of a ship anywhere.”

“There must be some time.”

We had more water and a biscuit.

“What of Mr. Lorimer?” I asked.

“If he wakes up we’ll give him something.”

“Should he be unconscious so long?”

“He shouldn’t be, but it seems he is. Perhaps it’s as well. That leg could be rather painful.”

“I wish we could do something about it.”

He shook his head.

“We can’t do anything. We hauled him aboard. That was all we could do.”

“And you gave him artificial respiration.”

“As best I could. I think it worked though. Well, that was all we could do.”

“How I wish a ship would come.”

“I am heartily in agreement with you.”

The night descended on us . our second night. I dozed a little and dreamed I was in the kitchen of the house in Bloomsbury.

“It was such a night as this that the Polish Jew was murdered …”

Such a night as this! And then I was awake. The boat was scarcely moving. I could just make out John Player staring ahead.

I closed my eyes. -I wanted to get back into the past.

We were into our second day. The sea was calm and I was struck afresh by the loneliness of that expanse of water. Only us and our boat in the whole world, it seemed.

Lucas became conscious during the morning. He said:

“What’s the matter with my leg?”

“I think the bone may be broken,” I told him.

“We can’t do anything about it. We’ll be picked up by a ship soon, John thinks.”

“John?” he asked.

“John Player. He’s been wonderful. He saved our lives.”

Lucas nodded.

“Who else is there?”

“Only the three of us. We’re in the lifeboat. We’ve had amazing luck.”

“I can’t help being glad you’re here, Rosetta.”

I smiled at him.

We gave him some water.

“That was good,” he said.

“I feel so helpless.”

“We all are,” I replied.

“So much depends on that ship.”

During the afternoon John sighted what he thought was land. He called to me excitedly and pointed to the horizon. I could just make out a dark hump. I stared at it. Was it a mirage? Did we long so much for it that our tortured imaginations had conjured it up? We had been adrift for only two days and nights but it seemed like an eternity. I kept my eyes fixed on the horizon.

The boat seemed not to be moving. There we were on a tranquil sea and if there really was land close by we might not be able to reach it.

The afternoon wore on. The land had disappeared and our spirits sank.

“Our only hope is a ship,” said John.

“Goodness knows if that is possible. How far we are from the trade routes, I do not know.”

A slight breeze arose. It carried us along for a while. I was on the lookout and I saw land again. It was close now.

I called to John.

“It looks like an island,” he said.

“If only the wind is in the right direction …”

Several hours passed. The land came nearer and then receded. The wind rose and there were dark clouds on the horizon. I could see that John was anxious.

Quite suddenly he gave a shout of joy.

“We’re getting nearer. Oh God . please help. The wind … the blessed wind … it’s going to take us there.”

A tense excitement gripped me. Lucas opened his eyes and said: “What is it?”

“I think we’re near land,” I told him.

“If only …” John was right beside me.

“It’s an island,” he said.

“Look, we’re going in .

“Oh, John,” I murmured, ‘can it be that our prayers are answered? “

He turned to me suddenly and kissed my cheek. I smiled and he gripped my hand hard. We were too full of emotion in that moment for more words.

We were in shallow water and the boat scraped land. John leaped out and I joined him. I felt an immense triumph, standing there with the water washing above my ankles.

It took a long time for us to drag the boat onto dry land.

The island on which we had landed was very small, little more than a rock jutting out of the sea. We saw a few stunted palm trees and sparse foliage. It rose steeply from the beach which I supposed was the reason why it was not completely submerged. The first thing John wanted to do was examine fully the contents of the boat and to his delight in one compartment under the seat he found more biscuits and another can of water, a first aid box containing bandages with some rope which enabled us to tether the boat to a tree and this gave us a wonderful sense of security.

Finding the water particularly delighted John.

“It will keep us alive for another few days.”

My first thought was for Lucas’s leg. I remembered that Dot had once broken an arm and Mr. Dolland had set it before the doctor had arrived and commended him for his prompt action. It had been related to me in some detail and I now tried to recall what Mr. Dolland had done.

With John’s help I did what I could. We discovered the broken bone and tried to piece it together. We found a piece of wood which served as a splint and the bandages were useful. Lucas said it felt more comfortable as a result but I feared our efforts were not very successful and they had in any case come far too late.

It was strange to see this hitherto self-sufficient man of the world so helpless and dependent upon us.

John had taken charge of us. He was a natural leader. He told us that he had attended drills on board the Atlantic Star, which every crewman was expected to do, and he had learned something about how to act in an emergency. That stood him in good stead now. He wished he had paid more attention but at least he remembered something of what he had been taught.

We were impatient to explore the island. We found a few coconuts. He shook them and listened for the rattle of milk.

He turned his eyes to the sky.

“Someone up there is looking after us,” he said.

Those days I spent on the island stand out in my memory never to be forgotten. John turned out to be quite ingenious; he was practical and resourceful and was constantly trying to find ways to help us survive.

We must keep an account of the time, he said. He was going to make a notch in a stick for this purpose. He knew we had been at sea three nights and so we had a start. Lucas was now fully aware of what was happening. It was maddening for him to be unable to move but I think his main concern was that he might be a hindrance.

We tried to assure him that this was not so and we needed someone to be on watch all the time. He could stay in the boat and keep a lookout while John and I explored the island searching for food, or doing any jobs that needed to be done. We had been provided with whistles with our lifejackets and if he spotted a sail or anything unusual happened he could summon us immediately.

It is amazing how very close one can become to another human being in such circumstances. Thus it was with John and me. Lucas had been my friend before this shipwreck. John had been almost a stranger. Now we seemed like close friends.

He would talk to me more frankly when we were alone than he did when Lucas was present. There was something very kind about him. He understood Lucas’s feelings, realizing how he would feel in his position, and he never mentioned before him his fears about the water supply running out. He did to me, though. He had installed a system of rationing. We took water at sunrise, midday and sunset.

“Water is the most precious thing we have,” he said.

“Without it we’re finished. We could very shortly become dehydrated. A healthy young person can do without food for perhaps a month, but that person must have water. If is only a little we’re getting. Drink it slowly. Hold it in your mouth, roll it round to get the utmost from it. As long as we have water we can survive. We’ll preserve some if it rains. We’ll manage.”

I felt comforted to be with him. I had an immense confidence in him.

He knew it and I believe my faith in him gave him courage and the power to do what might have seemed impossible.

He and I explored the island, looking for likely food, while Lucas kept watch. Sometimes we walked in silence, sometimes we talked.

We had gone a mile or so from the shore and climbed to the top of a slope. From there we would see the island clearly and gaze right out to the horizon all around us.

A feeling of utter aloneness swept over me and I think he felt it too.

“Sit down a while, Rosetta,” he said.

“I think I work you too hard.”

I laughed.

“You, John, are the one who works hard. We should never have survived if it had not been for you.”

“Sometimes I think we shall never get off this island.”

“Of course we shall. We have been here only a few days. Of course we’ll get off. Look how we found land. Who would have believed that? A ship will come by … you’ll see.”

“And if it does …” he said and stopped, frowning into the distance.

I waited for him to go on. Instead he said: “I think this can’t be the route that ships take.”

“Why shouldn’t it be? You wait and see …”

“Let’s face it. We’re going to run out of water.”

“It’ll rain. We’ll collect it.”

“We’ve got to find food. The biscuits are running out.”

“Why do you talk like this? It is not like you.”

“How do you know? You don’t know me very well, do you?”

“I know you as well as you know me. At times like this people get to know each other quickly. There is not all the fuss of conventions and great gaps in acquaintanceship which you get at home. We are together all the time … night and day. We’ve shared incredible dangers together. You get to know people quickly when it is like that.”

“Tell me about yourself,” he said.

“Well, what do you want to know? You saw my parents on board, perhaps.

I keep wondering what has happened to them. Could they have got into one of the boats? They are so vague. I don’t think they realized what was happening. Their minds were in the past. They often seemed to forget about me, except when they saw me. They would have been more interested in me if I had been a tablet covered in hieroglyphics. At least they named me after the Rosetta Stone. “

He was smiling and I told him of my happy childhood, mostly spent below stairs, of the maids who were my companions, kitchen meals, Mrs. Harlow, Nanny Pollock and Mr. Dolland’s ‘turns’.

“I can see I do not have to feel sorry for you.”

“By no means. I often wonder what Mr. Dolland and the rest are doing now. They will have heard of the shipwreck. Oh dear … they’ll be dreadfully upset. And what will happen to the house? And to, them? I do hope my parents were saved … if not, I don’t know what will happen to them all.”

“Perhaps you will never know.”

“There you go again. And it’s your turn. What about you?”

He was silent for a while. Then he said: “Rosetta, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, if you don’t want to tell me.”

“I do. I feel a compulsion to tell you. I think you ought to know.

Rosetta . my name is not John Player. “

“No? I thought it might not be.”

“It’s Simon Perrivale.”

I was silent. Memories came rushing back. Sitting at the kitchen table . Mr. Dolland putting on his glasses and reading from the newspaper.

I stammered: “Not the …”

He nodded.

“Oh …” I began.

He interrupted.

“You’re startled. Of course you are. I’m sorry.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you. I am innocent. I wanted you to know. You may not believe . “

“I do believe you,” I said sincerely.

“Thank you, Rosetta. You know now I am, as they say, ” on the run”.”

“So you worked on a ship as …”

“Deck hand,” he said.

“I was lucky. I knew that my arrest was imminent. I was sure they would find me guilty. I wouldn’t have a chance. There was so much against me. But I am innocent, Rosetta. I swear it. I had to get right away, and perhaps later on … if it were possible … find some way of proving my innocence.”

“Perhaps it would have been better to have remained and faced it.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. He was already dead when I got there. The gun was there beside him. I picked it up … it looked as though I were guilty.”

“You might have proved your innocence.”

“Not then. Everything was against me. The Press had made up its mind that I was a murderer … so had everyone else. I felt then that I didn’t stand a chance against them all. I wanted to get out of the country in some way so I made my way to Tilbury. I had what I thought was an amazing stroke of luck there. I talked to a sailor in a tavern.

He was drinking heavily because he didn’t want to go back to sea. His wife was going to have a baby and he couldn’t bear to leave her. He was heartbroken. I took advantage of the fact that he was drunk. I shouldn’t have done so but I was desperate. I felt I had to get out of the country . give myself a chance. It occurred to me that I might take his place . and this is what I did. He was a deck hand on the Atlantic Star, John Player. The ship was sailing that day . it was going to South Africa. I thought if I could get there, I could start a new life and perhaps some day the truth would come out and I could get home. I was desperate, Rosetta. It was a crazy plan but it worked. I was constantly in fear that something might be found out. but nothing was. And then this happened. “

“I guessed at once that there was something different about you, that you didn’t fit somehow.”

“On our morning meetings, of course.”

“Yes.”

“Was it so obvious?”

“A little.”

“I was afraid of Lorimer.”

“Oh, I understand. He did say something about his home being not far from the Perrivale house.”

“Yes. He actually came there once. I was about seventeen,

I imagine then. I was in the stables when he rode in. It was a very brief meeting and one changes a lot in the years. He couldn’t have recognized me, but I was afraid. “

“And now?” I said.

“What now?”

“It looks as though this could be the end of the story.”

“What happened on that day? Can you bear to talk of it?”

“I think I could tell you. One wants to talk to someone and you and I well, we’ve become friends … real friends. We trust each other, and even if I felt you might betray me, you couldn’t do much harm here, could you? To whom could you betray me here?”

“I would not dream of betraying you anywhere! You’ve told me you were innocent anyway.”

“I never felt that I belonged at Perrivale. That’s rather sad for a child, you know. I have vague memories of what I used to think of as Before. Life was comfortable and easy then. I was five years old before it changed into what I called Now. There was someone I called Angel. She was plump, cosy and smelt of lavender; she was always there to comfort me. There was another one, too. She was Aunt Ada. She did not live in the cottage with us but she came there often. On the days when she came I used to hide under a table which was covered with a red cloth, velvety and smooth. I can feel that cloth now and the faint odour of mothballs, and I can hear the strident voice saying, ” Why don’t you, Alice? ” in tones of reproach. Alice was the cosy lavender-smelling Angel.

“I remember once going in a train with Angel. We were going to Aunt Ada, to Witch’s Home. I believed then that Aunt Ada was a witch. She must be if she lived in Witch’s Home. I clung to Angel’s hand as we entered. It was a little house with leaded windows which made it dark but everything in it shone brightly. All the time Aunt Ada was telling Angel what she ought to do. I was sent out to the garden. There was water at the bottom of it. I was afraid because I was separated from Angel and I thought Aunt Ada might tell her that she ought to leave me there. I can remember now my great joy when I was in the train once more with Angel beside me. I said, ” Angel, don’t let’s go to the Witch’s Home any more. “

“We did not go again but Aunt Ada came to us. I would hear her saying, you should do this, you should not do that, and Angel would say, ” Well, you see, Ada, it’s like this . ” And they would talk about the Boy which I knew referred to me. Aunt Ada was sure I would grow into a criminal if a little more discipline was not shown. Some would say she was right. But it wasn’t so, Rosetta. I am innocent.”

“I do believe you,” I told him.

He was silent for a while and his eyes looked dreamily back into the past.

He went on: “There was a man who used to come and visit us. I found out in due course that he was Sir Edward Perrivale. He brought presents for Angel and for me. She always looked pleased when he came, so I was, too. I used to be put on his knee and he would look at me and every now and then give a little chuckle. Then he would say:

“Good boy. Fine boy.” And that was all. But I thought it was rather nice and a change from Aunt Ada.

“One day I had been playing in the garden and came into the cottage to find Angel seated in a chair by the table. She had her hand to her breast; she looked pale and was gasping. I cried, ” Angel, Angel, I’m here. ” I was frightened and bewildered because she didn’t look at me.

And then suddenly she shut her eyes and she wasn’t like Angel at all.

I was frightened and went on calling her name, but she fell forward with her head down. I started to scream. People came in. They took me away then and I knew something dreadful had happened. Aunt Ada came and it was no use hiding under the tablecloth. She soon found me and told me I was a wicked boy. I didn’t care what she called me, I just wanted Angel to be there.

“She was dead. It was a strange, bewildering time. I can’t remember much of it … except that there was a constant stream of people coming to the cottage and it wasn’t the same place any more. She lay in a coffin in the parlour with the blinds drawn down. Aunt Ada took me to have ” a last look at her”. She made me kiss her cold face. I screamed and tried to run away. It wasn’t the Angel I had known lying there .. indifferent to me and my need of her. Why am I telling you all this and telling it as a child? Why don’t I just say she died, and that’s that?”

“You are telling it as it should be told,” I said.

“You make me see it as it was … as you lived it… and that is how I want to see it.”

He went on: “I can hear the tolling of the funeral bell. I can see these black-clad figures and Aunt Ada like some grisly prophet of disaster … watching me all the time, menacing me.

“Sir Edward came down for the funeral. There was a great deal of talk and it concerned ” the Boy”. I knew my future was in the balance and I was very frightened.

“I asked Mrs. Stubbs who used to come to the cottage to scrub the floors where Angel was and she said, ” Don’t you worry your little head about her. She’s safe enough. She’s in Heaven with the angels. ” Then I heard someone say, ” Of course he’ll go to Ada. “

“I could not imagine a worse fate. I had half suspected it. Ada was Angel’s sister and since Angel was in Heaven, someone had to look after the boy. I knew there was one thing I had to do. I had to find Angel, so I set out to go to Heaven where I should see her and tell her that she must come back or I would stay with her there.

“I did not get very far before I met one of the farmworkers driving a cartload of hay. He stopped and called down to me, ” Where you off to, young fellow-me-lad? ” And I’re plied, ” I’m going to Heaven. “

“That’s a long way,” he said.

“You going on your own?”

“Yes,” I told him.

“Angel is there. I’m going to her.” He said, “You’re little Simon, ain’t you?

I’ve heard about you. Here. Hop in and I’ll give you a lift. “

“Are you going to Heaven, then?” I said.

“Not yet, I hope,” he said.

“But I know the way you ought to go.” He lifted me up beside him. And what he did was take me back to the cottage. Sir Edward was the first to see me. Touching his forehead, the man who had betrayed me said, “Begging your pardon, sir, but the little lad belongs here. I picked him up on the road. On his way to Heaven, he tells me. Thought I’d best bring him back, sir.”

“Sir Edward had a strange look on his face. He gave the man money and thanked him and then he said to me, ” We’ll have a talk, shall we? ” He took me into the cottage and we went into the parlour which still smelt of lilies, but the coffin wasn’t there and I knew with a terrible sense of loneliness that she would not be there any more.

“Sir Edward put me on his knee. I thought he was going to say ” Fine boy”, but he didn’t. What he said was, ” So you were trying to find your way to Heaven, were you, boy? ” I nodded.

“It’s a place you can’t reach.” I watched his mouth moving as he spoke. He had a line of hair above the top lip and a pointed beard-a Vandyke actually.

“Why did you go?” he asked. I was not able to express myself with lucidity. I said, “Aunt Ada.” He seemed to understand.

“You don’t want to go with her. She is your aunt.” I shook my head.

“No, no, no,” I said.

“You don’t like her?” I nodded.

“Well, well,” he said.

“Let’s see what we can do.” He was very thoughtful. I think he must have made up his mind then, for a day or so later I heard that I was going away to a big house. Sir Edward was going to take me into his family. “

He smiled at me.

“You have drawn your own conclusions. I am sure they are correct. I was his son … his illegitimate son, though it was hard to believe that, he being the man I came to know later. I was sure he loved my mother, Angel. Anybody must. I sensed it when they were together, but of course he couldn’t marry her. She was not the right sort for him. He must have fallen in love with her and set her up in the cottage and he came to visit her from time to time. I was never told this by Sir Edward or anyone. It was an assumption, but so plausible that it was accepted by all. Why else should he have taken me into his household and educated me with his sons? “

“So,” I said.

“That is how you came to Perrivale Court.”

“Yes. I was two years older than Cosmo and three than Tristan. That was fortunate for me; otherwise I should have had a bad time, I think.

Those two years gave me an advantage. I needed it, for, having installed me in his nursery. Sir Edward seemed to lose interest in me, though sometimes I saw him watching me furtively. The servants resented me. If it hadn’t been for the nanny I should probably have been as badly off as I would with Aunt Ada. But the nanny took pity on me. She loved me and protected me. I always remember how much I owe to that good woman.

“Then we had a tutor when I was about seven years old, a Mr. Welling, I remember, and I got on well with him. He must have heard the gossip but it did not affect him. I was more serious than Cosmo and Tristan and I had those two years as an advantage.

“There was, of course. Lady Perrivale. She was a terrifying person and I was glad that she seemed quite unaware of my existence. She very rarely spoke to me and I had the impression that she did not see me.

She was a large woman and everyone apart from Sir Edward was afraid of her. It was well known in the house that her money had saved Perrivale Court and that she was the daughter of a millionaire coal-owner or ironmaster. There seemed to be a divergence of opinion as to which. She had been an only daughter and he had wanted a title for her. He was ready to pay a price for it and much of the money made from iron or coal had gone into bolstering up the roof and walls of Perrivale Court. It must have seemed a good arrangement to Sir Edward for, as well as keeping the roof over his head, she provided him with two sons as well. I had one desire-to keep out of her way. So now you have a picture of the sort of household I was in. “

“Yes, and then you went away to school?”

“Which was decidedly better for me. There I was equal with the others.

I was good at lessons, fair at sports and I did well. I lost a little of that aggressiveness which I had built up in the early years. I was ready to defend myself before there was any need to do so. I looked for slights and insults where there were none. School was good for me.

“Too soon it was over. We had ceased to be boys. There was enough work on the estate to keep us all busy and we worked comparatively well together. We were reasonable adults now … all of us.

“I was about twenty-four when Major Durrell came to the neighbourhood.

His daughter came with him. She was a widow with a small child, a girl. The widow was startlingly beautiful-red-haired and green-eyed. Very unusual. We were all rather fascinated by her. Both Cosmo and Tristan in particular, but she chose Cosmo and their engagement was announced. “

I looked at him steadily. Had he cared for the widow, as had been suggested? Did the prospect of her marriage to someone else arouse his anger, despair, jealousy? Had he planned to have the widow for himself? No. I did believe him. He had spoken with such sincerity. He had made me see the nursery presided over by the kindly nanny and the arrival in their midst of the fascinating widow-Mirabel was what the papers had called her.

“Yes,” he went on.

“She had chosen Cosmo. Lady Perrivale was very pleased. She was very eager for her sons to marry and give her grandchildren and she was delighted that Cosmo’s bride was to be Mirabel. Mirabel’s mother, it seemed, had been an old schoolfriend of hers her best

friend, we heard. She had married the Major and, although she was now dead. Lady Perrivale gave a warm welcome to the widower and his daughter. She had known the Major when her friend had married him, and he had written telling her that he had retired from the Army and was thinking of settling somewhere. What about Cornwall? Lady Perrivale was delighted and found Seashell Cottage for them. That was how they came to be there. And then, of course, there was the engagement to Cosmo which followed very soon. You see how the stage was set. “

“I am beginning to see it very clearly,” I said.

“We were all working on the estate and there was this farmhouse, Bindon Boys. The farmer who had lived there and worked the farm had died some three years before and the land had been let out to a farmer on a temporary basis but no one had taken on the house. It was in a bad state and needed a bit of restoration as well as decorating.”

“Yes, there was a good deal in the papers about Bindon Boys.”

“Yes … it was originally Bindon Bois. There is a copse nearby. It was called Bindon Boys by the natives and that had become its official name. We had all inspected the house and were deciding what should be done.”

I nodded. I visualized the heavy black headlines.

“Bindon Boys Case. Police expect an arrest shortly. ” I was seeing it all so differently now from the manner which I had when Mr. Dolland had sat at the kitchen table and we had tried to piece the story together.

“We had been over there several times. There was a great deal of work to be done. I remember the day clearly. I was meeting Cosmo at the farmhouse so that we could discuss some plan on the spot. I went to the house and found him there … dead … the gun by his side. I could not believe it. I knelt beside him. There was blood on my coat.

His blood. I picked up the gun . and it was then that Tristan came in and found me. I remember his words.

“Good God, Simon! You’ve killed him!” I told him I had just come in that I had found him like this. He stared at the gun in my hand and I could see what he was thinking. “

He stopped short and closed his eyes as though he were trying to shut out the memory. I laid my hand on his shoulder.

I said: “You know you’re innocent, Simon. You’ll prove it one day.”

“If we never get away from this island, no one will ever know the truth.”

“We are going to get away,” I said.

“I feel it.”

“It’s just hope.”

“Hope is a good thing.”

“It’s heartbreaking when it is proved unfounded.”

“But it isn’t in this case. A ship will come. I know it. And then ..”

“Yes, what then? I must hide myself away. I must never go back. I dare not. If I did they would capture me and, having run away, they would say I had proved my guilt.”

“What really happened? Have you any idea?”

“I think there is a possibility that it might have been old Harry Tench. He hated Cosmo. He had rented one of the farms some years before. He drank too much and the place went to ruin. Cosmo turned him out and put in another man. Tench went away but he came back. He was tramping the road. He’d become a sort of tinker. People said he had sworn vengeance on the Perrivales and Cosmo in particular. He hadn’t been seen in the neighbourhood for some weeks, but of course, if he’d planned to kill Cosmo, he would naturally be careful about being seen nearby. His name was mentioned during the investigation, but he was dismissed and no longer a suspect. I was a more likely one. They made a great play about the emnity between Cosmo and me. People all around seemed to remember signs of it which I was unaware of. They made much of Mirabel and Cosmo’s engagement to her.”

“I know. The crime passionnel. Were you … in love with her?”

“Oh no. We were all a little dazzled by her … but no.”

“And when her engagement to Cosmo was announced … did you show that you were disappointed?”

“Tristan and I probably said how lucky Cosmo was and that we envied him or something like that. I didn’t think we meant it very seriously.”

There was silence between us.

Then he said: “Now you know. I’m glad. It is like a weight being lifted from my shoulders. Tell me … are you shocked to find you have a suspected murderer with you?”

“I can only think that he saved my life … Lucas’s too.”

“With my own, of course.”

“Well, if you hadn’t saved your own, none of us would be here. I am glad you told me. I wish something could be done … to make things right … so that you could go back. Perhaps one day you will.”

“You are an optimist. You think we are going to get off this godforsaken island. You believe in miracles.”

“I think I have seen a few in the last days.”

Again he took my hand and pressed it.

“You are right and I am ungrateful. We shall be picked up in time .. and some day perhaps, I shall go back to Perrivale Court and they will know the truth.”

“I am sure of it,” I said. I stood up.

“We have talked for a long time. Lucas will be wondering where we are.”

Two more days passed. The water stock was very low and we were running out of coconuts. Simon had found a stout stick which Lucas used as a crutch. His leg was slightly less painful, he said, but I had little confidence in our attempts to set it. Still, he could hobble a few steps and that cheered him considerably.

When we were alone, Simon told me further incidents from his life and I began to get a clearer picture of what it had been like. I was fascinated by it all. I longed to be of help in uncovering the truth and helping to establish his innocence. I wanted to hear more of Harry Tench. I had decided that he was the murderer. Simon said Cosmo should not have been so hard on the man. True, Harry Tench was a poor farmer and if the estate was to prosper it must be maintained in a proper manner, but he could have kept Harry Tench on in some capacity perhaps. Cosmo had insisted that he was useless as a worker; moreover, he had been insolent, which was something Cosmo would not accept.

We used’ to discuss how it would have been possible for Harry Tench to have killed Cosmo. He had no fixed home; he often slept in barns; he had admitted sleeping in Bindon Boys.

Perhaps he had been there when Cosmo arrived at the house a short time before Simon came in. Perhaps he had seized his opportunity. But there was the gun. That needed a little explanation. It had been discovered that it came from the gunroom at Perrivale Court. How could Harry Tench have got his hands on it?

And so on . but I am sure it was a great relief to Simon to be able to talk.

It was our fifth day on the island and late in the afternoon. Simon and I had been wandering round all the morning. We had found some berries which we thought might be edible and were considering the risk of trying them when we heard a shout. followed by a whistle.

It was Lucas. We hurried back to him. He was pointing excitedly to the horizon. It was just a speck. Were we imagining this or were we conjuring up in our minds something we so desperately wanted to see?

In breathless silence we watched. It had begun to take shape.

“It is. It is!” cried Simon.