Part 16

One night during the middle watch a furious squall suddenly burst upon the vessel, and as she had all sail set she heeled over almost on to her beam ends. Several sails were rent to fragments by the force of the wind, and the long strips flying out in the tempest made a tremendous cracking like the cracking of stock whips. ‘All hands’ were called on deck, and there were all the noise, and shouting, and uproar incidental to a sudden squall in the dead of night. To the timid and the inexperienced this is particularly alarming, for as the ship flies along on her side the waters hiss in a strange manner, the shouting and tramp of the sailors, the orders given hastily and in stentorian tones, the cracker-like reports of the torn sails, the groaning and creaking of the rudder chains, the indescribable howling of the wind, and the extreme angle of the vessel, are sufficiently alarming to produce nervousness even in those whose acquaintance with the sea is not of recent date. And this is more particularly the case when such a squall occurs at night; then the sky is inky in its blackness, and nothing can be seen save the spectral-like outlines of the rigging and the masts, and such objects as are immediately near the spectator. When this particular squall struck the ship it happened that the Red Lily’s cabin was on the weather side, and so suddenly did the ship heel over that Lily narrowly escaped being thrown from her bunk. Although this was not her first experience of a squall at night she felt unusually alarmed, for the vessel was lying over at such an unusual angle, and there was so much noise on deck.

Hastily throwing on a few articles of clothing, and covering them with a dressing-gown, she encased her feet in slippers, and rushed over to her mother’s cabin, which was on the lee side. Undisturbed by the shock Mrs. Hetherington was sleeping soundly, and so, not wishing to wake her, the first impression of alarm having passed away, Lily closed the cabin door gently, and then went up the companion-way and peeped out into the darkness. The white waters were flying past, and the vessel was lying over almost to her lee scuppers. Lily stepped on to the deck, holding on to the handle of the companion-way door. There was a babel of mingled sounds, and the wind was blowing a perfect hurricane. She had stood there but a few minutes when suddenly she became aware that Cornell was standing beside her. He was superintending the stowing of the mizzen to’gallant sail. He was evidently surprised to see her there. She was about to descend again, for his presence brought back all her old fears, when he caught her arm, and with gentle force restrained her.

‘This is fortunate,’ he said. ‘The opportunity I have longed for this squall has at last given me.’

‘Let me go,’ she exclaimed, ‘or I will scream.’ She was trembling with fear and excitement, but he still held her.

‘You dare not,’ he answered in a strange tone. Then, after a pause, he added, ‘You have been cruel to me, but you must be so no longer or I shall die. I cannot live without you.’

‘Are you mad?’ she said with a shudder.

‘Perhaps I am. If I am you have made me so.’ He passed his arm round her waist and held her closely.

She struggled to free herself, but she was powerless in his strong grasp. The mysterious influence he exercised over her now kept her tongue tied so that she could not scream, could not cry out. He bent low and pressed his lips to hers, and yet that did not break the spell which bound her.

‘You are to be married on Christmas Day,’ he said in a whisper. ‘I hope before then he or I will be dead. If I live you shall become my wife. Do you hear? my wife. You may think I am talking mere words, but you will see.’

He released her and she found herself in her cabin. How she got down she did not know. She was burning with indignation and shame. His polluting lips had touched hers, and she shivered as she thought of it. She rubbed her lips with her handkerchief as though he had left some stain which she was trying to wipe away. She yearned to go at once to Fenton’s cabin and tell him all, but a deadly fear of Cornell withheld her, the spell of his extraordinary power was upon her, and she felt that she dare not open her mouth to tell aught of what had occurred. The man’s influence, whatever it was, was paramount. She feared and hated him, and yet dare not denounce him. Of course she was weak, but then he was no ordinary man. His strength of will was enormous, and subdued her.

During the rest of the night she could not sleep, and she longed for Christmas Day to come, so that, as Dick’s wife, she might be free from the persecutions of the mysterious Cornell.

When the morning broke the storm had died away, leaving a gentle wind that wafted the ship along at about eight knots an hour.

‘We shall have steady weather now,’ the captain observed at breakfast time, as he examined the barometer that swung over the cabin table.

His prognostication proved correct. The wind increased day by day until it was blowing a strong gale, but as it was favourable a large spread of canvas was carried upon the ship.

The day preceding Christmas Day arrived; the ‘Sirocco’ was in the Bay of Biscay, off the inhospitable Cape Finisterre. By Christmas Eve the wind had increased very much, so that the ship was ‘snugged down.’ Extra lookouts were kept, for a great number of outward and homeward bound vessels were in the Bay. The night promised to be a very ‘dirty one,’ but there was merriment on board, and many a toast to ‘Sweethearts and Wives’ was drunk, both in the cabin and in the forecastle, for a liberal allowance of grog had been served out to the crew.

The preparations for the wedding were all complete. The saloon was gaily decorated, and it was arranged that the marriage ceremony was to be performed at eleven o’clock in the morning. But before eleven o’clock strange things were to happen.

The night waned, and as eight bells sounded Dick Fenton went on deck to smoke a cigar before turning in. The ladies had all retired, and only a single night lamp burned in the saloon. The wind had drawn ahead a good deal, and the vessel could only carry close-reefed main-topsail and fore-topsail, so that she was making very little way, simply ‘forging,’ as sailors say, at the rate of about two knots an hour. A favourite seat with Dick when he went on deck to smoke his cigar was on the rail near the mizzen shrouds. There he was under the shelter of the captain’s gig, which was slung outside on davits, and his feet rested on a hencoop that ran along the poop. Sitting there now pensively dreaming of his Red Lily, and the happiness that awaited him on the morrow when she would become his wife, he had no thought of danger. There was music in the rush of the wild waters and the screaming sweep of the wind. The vessel had that short, jerky motion which a ship has in a rough sea when under reefed topsails.

Suddenly there rose up before Dick’s vision the dark figure of a man.

‘Hallo! is that you, captain?’ exclaimed Dick.

‘No,’ was the answer, and in the gruff voice Dick recognised the second mate.

‘Oh, it’s you, Cornell,’ he said. ‘This is a wild night. Do you think the wind will free at all before the morning?’

‘It may, and may not,’ was the somewhat surly answer, and in the husky tones Cornell betrayed that he was the worse for liquor. ‘I suppose you were thinking of the Red Lily,’ he remarked.

‘Really, Mr. Cornell, you are a little familiar,’ Dick said, not unkindly, for he was willing to make every allowance at such a time.

‘Bah, why am I familiar?’ sneered the second mate. ‘I suppose the night before his marriage every man thinks of the woman who is to be his wife.’

‘I suppose he does,’ Dick answered curtly, for he was not anxious to prolong the conversation seeing the strange humour Cornell was in.

‘You have quite made up your mind that she is to be your wife?’ asked Cornell.

‘Well, please God that nothing happens between now and the morning, Miss Hetherington will certainly become Mrs. Fenton.’

‘But it is destined that something shall happen,’ Cornell exclaimed, ‘and you will never see the morrow.’