Read Online The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche by Mazo de la Roche - Free Book Online
Authors: Mazo de la Roche
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wind still fierce enough to fill the storm sails, to which the ship had been stripped, to bursting point. In the welter of the waves the
Alanna
lay almost on her beam ends. Now a rainstorm advanced like a wall, seeming to join with the waves in the effort to drown those aboard.
But Captain Bradley was not downcast. He went about, ruddy-faced and cheerfully shouting his orders. The swinging lanterns illumined but little the wild scene. Sailors were thrumming sails together and drawing them under the ship’s bow in what seemed a hopeless effort to stop the leak. Adeline felt that, if she wentbelow, she would be desperate with fear. Here in the midst of the activity she felt herself equal to Philip in courage. She drew Mary Cameron and Conway to her side and the three of them linked themselves, waiting Philip’s return.
“I gave her some brandy,” he said as he came up. “She needed it, poor lady, for she is half-dead with cold.” He turned to the girl. “Shall I take you down to your mother, Mary?”
“Did she ask for me?” Mary’s voice was slightly sulky.
“No. I think she’ll sleep. Perhaps you are better with us.”
Conway Court gave a shout of laughter. “Mary, Mary, quite contrary — ” he sang. “Sailed away to the Port of Canary.”
Philip frowned at him but Adeline laughed too and Mary gave him an adoring look. He was a wild figure in his bright-hued dressing gown with his tawny hair blowing in the wind.
Mr. Wilmott came up to them.
“The officers are not alarmed,” he said, “but the leak appears to be a bad one. The four pumps are working like the devil. Mr. D’Arcy and Mr. Brent are helping to man them and I’m ready to give a hand when I’m needed.”
When morning came there were five feet of water in the hold. The pumps were working hard and the Captain said he had the situation under control. A stewardess brought breakfast to Adeline in her cabin. She had changed into dry things but had not slept. The tiny room was in a state of disorder, her wet clothing, the belongings of Philip and the baby, scatter promiscuously and depressingly. She felt herself being sucked down into a vortex of confusion, rather than of fear. But the hot tea, the bread and bacon, put life into her. She sat on the edge of the berth and combed out her hair. A pale sunlight filtered in at the porthole. She noticed the lively beauty of her hair. “It would look like this, even if I were drowning,” she thought, half resentfully.
In the silver mirror of her dressing case, she saw how pale her face was. She bit her lips to bring some colour into them.
“When do you think we shall get to Newfoundland?” she asked the Scotch stewardess.
“Oh, we’ll get there right enough.”
“How far are we from Ireland?”
“Perhaps six hundred miles.”
“How is Mrs. Cameron this morning?”
“Ah, she’s fell waur o’ the wear.”
“And her daughter?”
“Fast asleep. Like your own bairn, poor we lamb!” She cast an accusing look at Adeline.
“My brother looked after my baby very well last night,” said Adeline haughtily, for little Augusta had not been in her thoughts all night. “You say she is fast asleep? Is she with her ayay?”
“Aye. She’s with what’s left of the ayah — for the woman is more dead than alive.” The stewardess stood balancing the tray against the reeling of the ship.
“Merciful heaven,” cried Adeline, “what a miserable company we are!”
She crossed the passage to the ayah’s cabin and looked in. In the pale sunlight nurse and infant looked equally fragile and remote. But they were sleeping peacefully. Adeline summoned the stewardess.
“Take that basin away,” she said in a low but furious tone. “Make the place decent with as little noise as you can.”
Adeline went to Mrs. Cameron’s cabin. All was neat there but the poor woman lay on her berth exhausted after her last bout of seasickness. The air was heavy with the scent of Eau de Cologne. It was as though
Alanna
lay almost on her beam ends. Now a rainstorm advanced like a wall, seeming to join with the waves in the effort to drown those aboard.
But Captain Bradley was not downcast. He went about, ruddy-faced and cheerfully shouting his orders. The swinging lanterns illumined but little the wild scene. Sailors were thrumming sails together and drawing them under the ship’s bow in what seemed a hopeless effort to stop the leak. Adeline felt that, if she wentbelow, she would be desperate with fear. Here in the midst of the activity she felt herself equal to Philip in courage. She drew Mary Cameron and Conway to her side and the three of them linked themselves, waiting Philip’s return.
“I gave her some brandy,” he said as he came up. “She needed it, poor lady, for she is half-dead with cold.” He turned to the girl. “Shall I take you down to your mother, Mary?”
“Did she ask for me?” Mary’s voice was slightly sulky.
“No. I think she’ll sleep. Perhaps you are better with us.”
Conway Court gave a shout of laughter. “Mary, Mary, quite contrary — ” he sang. “Sailed away to the Port of Canary.”
Philip frowned at him but Adeline laughed too and Mary gave him an adoring look. He was a wild figure in his bright-hued dressing gown with his tawny hair blowing in the wind.
Mr. Wilmott came up to them.
“The officers are not alarmed,” he said, “but the leak appears to be a bad one. The four pumps are working like the devil. Mr. D’Arcy and Mr. Brent are helping to man them and I’m ready to give a hand when I’m needed.”
When morning came there were five feet of water in the hold. The pumps were working hard and the Captain said he had the situation under control. A stewardess brought breakfast to Adeline in her cabin. She had changed into dry things but had not slept. The tiny room was in a state of disorder, her wet clothing, the belongings of Philip and the baby, scatter promiscuously and depressingly. She felt herself being sucked down into a vortex of confusion, rather than of fear. But the hot tea, the bread and bacon, put life into her. She sat on the edge of the berth and combed out her hair. A pale sunlight filtered in at the porthole. She noticed the lively beauty of her hair. “It would look like this, even if I were drowning,” she thought, half resentfully.
In the silver mirror of her dressing case, she saw how pale her face was. She bit her lips to bring some colour into them.
“When do you think we shall get to Newfoundland?” she asked the Scotch stewardess.
“Oh, we’ll get there right enough.”
“How far are we from Ireland?”
“Perhaps six hundred miles.”
“How is Mrs. Cameron this morning?”
“Ah, she’s fell waur o’ the wear.”
“And her daughter?”
“Fast asleep. Like your own bairn, poor we lamb!” She cast an accusing look at Adeline.
“My brother looked after my baby very well last night,” said Adeline haughtily, for little Augusta had not been in her thoughts all night. “You say she is fast asleep? Is she with her ayay?”
“Aye. She’s with what’s left of the ayah — for the woman is more dead than alive.” The stewardess stood balancing the tray against the reeling of the ship.
“Merciful heaven,” cried Adeline, “what a miserable company we are!”
She crossed the passage to the ayah’s cabin and looked in. In the pale sunlight nurse and infant looked equally fragile and remote. But they were sleeping peacefully. Adeline summoned the stewardess.
“Take that basin away,” she said in a low but furious tone. “Make the place decent with as little noise as you can.”
Adeline went to Mrs. Cameron’s cabin. All was neat there but the poor woman lay on her berth exhausted after her last bout of seasickness. The air was heavy with the scent of Eau de Cologne. It was as though
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