The captains table, p.20
The Captain's Table, page 20
“He— he asked me to marry him this morning. But— oh, Tony, I don’t know, I—”
Tony gripped her hand, smiling at her. “You know all right, my dear. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “I know how I feel.”
“Good. I can’t pretend I don’t think you’ll be marrying the wrong chap, because I do. But the best of luck to him. I hope he realises how damned lucky he is! Er— about Leonie. You can rely on me to look after her, when we get to Penang. I’ll fix up something, if I have to ask Grizel to come as chaperon. Which just shows you to what lengths I’m prepared to go to help a damsel in distress! Incidentally, Cathie—” He was serious again. “I’d see to it that the news of your engagement is circulated, if I were you. The whispers have started, I think Anyway, Grizel was trying to drop some hints to me this evening, not very pleasant ones. And her Mum, confound her, waded in, too. I made it pretty obvious that I wasn’t interested and they shut up. But I didn’t like the look in the old girl’s eye, quite honestly.”
“Tony, there isn’t any engagement yet. I—”
“There will be, my sweet. Don’t worry.” He rose and held out his hand to her. “Looks as though we’re making a move. Coming?”
Led by Lady Hope-Scott, the party made its way down to the saloon.
Sounds of merriment greeted them. There were few vacant seats, and, although the ship was now pitching quite noticeably, it did not appear to be damping anyone’s spirits, or even impairing their appetites. The fancy dresses were varied and extremely colourful and each fresh arrival was greeted by smiles and an occasional outburst of clapping or an ironical cheer.
But the chair at the head of the Captain’s Table was empty. Catherine took her seat with a sudden sinking of the heart.
Surely Robert could not have misunderstood her refusal of his invitations? Perhaps her note hadn’t been very explicit but she had written it hurriedly, not wanting Leonie to notice what she was doing. She must see him at the first opportunity and explain.
The stewards served the first course and, almost for the first time since Leonie had received her cable, Catherine stopped worrying about her and began, rather desperately, to worry about herself.
CHAPTER XXIX
The dance had been in full and hilarious swing for nearly an hour when Catherine saw Robert enter the lounge. A Paul Jones was in progress and Catherine was dancing with Sir George Muir, a portly and talkative Henry the Eighth. Over his be-ruffed shoulder, her eyes met Robert’s. His were cold, unsmiling and held a glint of anger.
The music stopped and Robert adroitly placed himself in Catherine’s path. “Let’s sit the rest of this out, shall we?” he suggested. He led the way to a vacant table and signed to one of the stewards. “What will you have?”
“I don’t want anything, thank you.”
Robert ordered whisky. He took out his cigarette case and offered it to her. As he held his lighter for her, he said: “I suppose you had a good reason for refusing to see me this evening?”
“Yes, Robert, I had. It— it was Leonie.” She glanced about her and then lowered her voice. Lady Hope-Scott was seated at the next table and it was evident that she was not listening to her partner’s attempts to make conversation to her. “I can’t tell you here, if you don’t mind. It’s—well, Leonie wouldn’t like it.”
“I see. Very well, I’ll try to contain myself in patience until we are alone.” The steward brought his drink. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind and have something?”
“Quite sure, thank you.” The lorgnette was raised and Lady Hope-Scott was staring quite openly now, determined to miss nothing. Her partner talked on manfully but she no longer bothered even to reply to him.
Robert said, his tone brusque: “You are aware that I particularly wanted to see you and talk to you this evening, aren’t you, Catherine?”
“Oh, yes!” This was more than she could compete with, Catherine thought desperately. “Oh, Robert, surely you know I’d never have let you down if I could possibly have avoided it?”
“I know nothing, if you don’t tell me,” Robert returned, but his tone was more reasonable. “It seemed strange, in view of the fact that I saw you playing deck tennis with every appearance of enjoyment at four-thirty, that you couldn’t manage to have tea with me at four. But no doubt you can explain that?”
“Yes,” said Catherine bitterly. “If you will believe my explanation!” She regretted it the instant she had said it. Robert went white. He finished his whisky at a gulp and got to his feet. “We’ll go to my quarters,” he said. At the door of the lounge, he halted. “There’s a very strong wind. Wait here and I’ll get you a coat, you’ll need it to cross the boat deck.”
Waiting for him, Catherine looked round for Leonie but could see no sign of her. But Tony was missing, too. And Dr. Alfree. She was probably with them in the bar. It was quite rough now, the moon obscured by scudding clouds. Catherine wondered uneasily whether Leonie was standing up to it all right.
Tony danced past with Grizel Hope-Scott, his expression glummer than she had ever seen it. Grizel had captured him in the Paul Jones and was determined not to relinquish him but, seeing Catherine, Tony stopped.
“All right, Cathie?”
“Yes, I’m all right,” Catherine assured him. “Have you seen Leonie?”
“Oh, come on, Tony!” Grizel said, impatiently dragging at the tattered sleeve of his pirate’s jersey. “This is a simply heavenly tune.” Reluctantly, Tony took her into his arms again. But he did not move.
“She went down to the cabin, I think,” he said, over Grizel’s resentful shoulder. “Said she was feeling the weather and wanted to dope herself with Mothersill. D’you want me to go down and bang on the door and ask her if she’s all right?”
Catherine hesitated. “No. I’ll go but—look, Tony, could you possibly tell the Captain where I’ve gone? He’s meeting me here—” She tried to ignore the sudden gleam of interest in Grizel’s eyes, as the girl turned to stare at her. “It’s—that is, you will give him my message, won’t you, Tony?”
He heard the appeal in her voice and released Grizel.
“Of course I will, my dear. We’ll wait here till he comes. I’m sure Grizel won’t mind—”
Catherine did not wait to hear Grizel’s reply. Judging by her expression, she did mind; and was about to say so.
Catherine pushed her way with difficulty through the crowded lounge. One or two people called out to her but she waved in reply and hurried on. She simply mustn’t keep Robert waking. He was angry enough already and had obviously misunderstood her reasons for refusing to have tea with him. Which was perhaps natural. If he had seen their deck tennis party, by no possible stretch of the imagination could he have been expected to realise that Leonie, laughing and joking, had, only a few hours before, Suffered a mortal blow.
But she had to see if Leonie was all right. Her manner hadn’t been normal, her calm was too complete, her laughter too forced....
On B Deck, the ship’s motion became more apparent and Catherine had to steady herself against the passage wall.
She reached her own cabin, staggering a little, and tried the door. It was unlocked and yielded to her touch. She went in quietly, not wanting to wake Leonie if she were asleep.
And then she cried out in sudden fear. For Leonie was lying on the floor of the cabin, her beautiful dress crushed beneath her and her hands outstretched, as if she had made a desperate attempt to reach the door before she collapsed. She had evidently been lying on her bunk, for the bedding was rumpled and one silver dance shoe lay at its foot.
Catherine dropped to her knees beside the huddled form, frantically feeling for a pulse and calling Leonie’s name.
What had happened? What could possibly have happened? Leonie’s breathing was harsh and ragged and her face had a waxen pallor that brought Catherine’s heart to her mouth.
Then Leonie’s eyes flickered open and she saw recognition in them.
“Cathie—” her voice was frighteningly weak, the words slurred. “Thank heaven . . . you came ... I— I’ve been . . . an awful fool. Sleeping tablets... I took them— by mistake for... seasick pills. Cathie, get... Ted. I— can’t keep awake . . . much longer ... I can’t. . . .” Her voice tailed off and, in the sudden silence, Catherine could hear no sound but the terrified beating of her own heart.
She hesitated for a moment, wondering whether she should try to get Leonie back on to her bunk. But her attempt to do so showed her that it was impossible. Leonie was unconscious, a dead weight, quite beyond her strength.
She seized a pillow and thrust it under Leonie’s head, smoothing the tumbled hair away from the white, shuttered face and turning it, so that her breathing should not be obstructed.
Then, with a sob, she dashed out in search of Dr. Alfree.
She found Tony first. He called out to her and she ran to him.
“Oh, Tony....”
Tony caught her arm. “I tried to give your message to Blair, Catherine. I’m afraid he wasn’t awfully pleased. But he said he’d wait for you and—”
“Tony, where’s Dr. Alfree? I must find him, something awful’s happened. It’s Leonie. She—”
“Steady, Cathie—” She had raised her voice and heads were turning to stare at them. “He’s in the bar. I’ll get him for you. Where is Leonie? In her cabin?”
Catherine nodded, lips trembling. “Yes, I’ll go back to her. Tony, please hurry. It’s— it’s dreadfully urgent.”
He saw, from her face, that it was. “Right. Off you go. I’ll get Alfree. B. 147, isn’t it?”
“Yes. And Tony, if you see Robert, tell him, please.”
“Of course I will. Keep calm, Cathie. It may not be as bad as you think.”
“It is,” Catherine said wretchedly. She turned to retrace her steps, eyes misted with tears.
From across the lounge, Robert saw her and moved towards her, the bridge-coat still over his arm.
But she did not see him, was, in fact, too frantic with anxiety even to think of him.
He watched her go, his brows gathered in a frown. What the devil had come over her? Should he go after her and demand an explanation? She had been behaving oddly all day but—if this was her way of showing him that she considered his proposal as great an insult as his love-making had been, then....
The Captain shrugged. He was furiously angry, with her and with himself. Most of all with himself.
The Purser had to summon all his Courage to approach him.
“Excuse me, sir. The— er— the Prizegiving, sir. It’s the usual custom for the Captain to present the prizes—”
Robert turned a bleak stare on him.
“Certainly, Mr. Forbes. By all means let us do the usual thing.”
With a face like thunder, the Claymore’s Captain mounted the platform to present the Fancy Dress prizes.
CHAPTER XXX
When Catherine reached the cabin again, Leonie lay as she had left her, inert, her breathing now very faint and shallow.
A moment later, the cabin door opened and Dr. Alfree pushed her gently aside, to take her place on his knees beside the unconscious girl. His examination was rapid.
“She spoke to you?” His face was as white as Leonie’s.
“Yes. She said she’d taken the sleeping tablets in mistake for seasick pills. I found her on the floor, as she is now, only her hands were stretched out in front of her, as if she had been trying to get from her bunk to the door.”
“I expect she had,” the doctor said grimly. “She realised what she had done, poor child. Listen, Catherine, we’ve got to get her to the sick bay, as quickly as possible. Get hold of Jim Naylor, will you? Tell him what’s happened—he’ll know what to bring me. But be careful, don’t let anyone else hear you—for Leonie’s sake, we don’t want a lot of talk. You understand?”
Catherine understood. A vision of Lady Hope-Scott’s raised lorgnette floated before her, in a mist of unshed tears, and she saw, with astonishing clarity, the eyes behind the glasses, dark and avidly curious. It had been an accident, a ghastly, completely unforeseen accident, but she could imagine what Lady Hope-Scott would make of it, if she knew.
“And look here—” Dr. Alfree was speaking again, rather breathlessly, as he lifted Leonie to her feet and stood supporting her, inert, against him. “Tell Tony Urquhart to get some coffee made, black and very strong. The cooks’ll give it to him, if he goes below. Better not ask any of the stewards, just in case. Tell him to bring it to the sick bay, as quickly as he can.”
“Yes. I—oh, Dr. Alfree, is she going to be all right?” Catherine’s voice broke on a sob.
“I hope so, Catherine. I’ll do everything I can. Off you go and find Naylor. And hurry, my dear—hurry!”
When Catherine reached the lounge, the Fancy Dress Parade had just started and all eyes were on this. No one noticed her go up to young Dr. Naylor and whisper her message to him.
He nodded, asking no questions. “Right, I’ll go at once.
B. 147, you said?”
“Yes. You haven’t seen Tony Urquhart, have you?”
He shook his head. “Fraid not, Miss Duncan.”
Catherine looked round wildly and, over the heads of the packed and festive throng gathered about the platform, Captain Blair saw her. He said to the Purser, abruptly: “You’ll have to present the prizes, Mr. Forbes. There’s something I have to attend to.”
He caught Catherine up before she had half completed a circuit of the room, and drew her away, out of earshot of the crowd.
“Catherine, what is wrong?”
Stifling a sob, she told him.
“I was looking for Tony Urquhart,” she finished. “The— the doctor wants him to get some coffee made. I’d go myself but I’m not sure how to get to the galley. Dr. Alfree said it would be better not to ask any of the stewards for it, in case— in case of talk. You see—”
“I see,” Robert said, tight-lipped. “I see perfectly. A very wise precaution.” He looked down at her, the bleak blue eyes unexpectedly sympathetic and kindly. “I’ll see to the coffee, my steward can make it. Black and strong, I imagine?”
Catherine nodded and he took her arm.
“You need something to pull you together, my dear. Come with me—I’m going to get you some brandy.” He ignored her protests. “There’s nothing you can do, Catherine. Please believe me when I tell you that the doctors will do all that’s humanly possible. I know it’s hard to wait and do nothing. But—” he smiled at her. “Sometimes one has to. You’re as white as a ghost and you’re trembling—brandy would help, you know.”
“Yes, but—the coffee. Dr. Alfree asked me to get it and—” “Don’t worry about the coffee, I’ve said I’ll see to it.” His hand on her arm, he led her out of the lounge. It was dark on deck, the moon hidden by scudding, wind-driven clouds. Blair picked up a bridge-coat from its hook at the top of the companionway leading to the Officers’ Deck and wrapped it around her.
They crossed the exposed part of the deck in silence and Robert opened the door of his day cabin. Rickaby came in response to his call
’’Make some coffee,” the Captain ordered. “Black and very strong. Plenty of it. Put it into a flask and take it down to the sick bay at once. Understand?”
“Ay, ay, sir.” Rickaby was too well-trained to show any astonishment. He vanished into his pantry and Robert took Catherine to a chair and seated her in it. She was dazed and shaken and sat in the big armchair, shivering uncontrollably.
The Captain crossed to the table on which decanters and glasses were set out. He poured a drink and brought it over to the trembling girl.
“Now then.” He held the glass to her lips, his big, strong hands surprisingly gentle as. they raised her, his arm supporting her back. “Drink this—every drop of it, mind.”
Catherine choked as the fiery spirit burned her throat. But it pulled her together. She looked at him with a tremulous smile. “I—feel better now. Thank you. It was—it was kind of you.”
She attempted to rise but his arm restrained her.
“Catherine, my dear, let me help you. Don’t rush away.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I— I’m so afraid,” she whispered The next moment, she was in his arms and he drew her head, very gently, down on to his shoulder. His hand touched her hair. “There,” he said. “Cry, it will do you good. It was a dreadful shock for you, to find her like that. But you must try not to worry. The doctors will do everything possible.”
“I— I’m all right now.” Ashamed of her weakness, Catherine faced him, making a brave effort to restrain her tears. Her lips quivered. It scarcely seemed possible that this was Robert Blair, that, a moment ago, she had been weeping in his arms and that he had been indescribably kind and gentle. She knew then that she loved him, beyond any shadow of doubt. And that she had misjudged him. But her anxiety for Leonie made even this discovery seem unimportant. She would not let herself think about it, when Leonie, perhaps, was dying.
Robert took her arm. “I’ll take you down, then. If you’re sure you feel all right?”
“I’m quite sure.” At the head of the B Deck companionway he let her go.
“Tell the doctor to keep me informed, will you please? And—be brave, darling.”
When she reached the cabin, Dr. Alfree was walking Leonie about, his arm holding her upright. An empty hypo dermic syringe lay in the wash-basin. Dr. Naylor, in his shirt sleeves, was washing his hands.
Leonie, still in the pathetically crumpled ball dress, sagged as she walked, her feet dragging and her eyes half closed. Dr. Alfree was calling her name, over and over again, his voice lowered but insistent. But Leonie did not answer him.
Seeing Catherine, the doctor said: “We’re going to take her up to the sick bay now. Have to walk her up, I daren’t risk carrying her. Could you find her a dressing gown or something? Thanks. Jim and I will manage her, if you’ll open the door for us.”
