Chapter II. My Fellow Passengers.

‘Well, old man,’ I remarked to Harry after the ladies had retired to the cabin, ‘what do you think of the femininities?’

‘Old un's a Tartar.’

‘What about the young ones, eh?’

‘Against my better judgment I'm gone on the dark one. She fascinates me, but I flatter myself I can read faces fairly well, and I should say the fair one would make the best wife, out and out.’

‘Well, Harry, back your judgment. Don't go on fascination but make up to the fair one, for I'm free to confess I have already, made up my mind to “do my darndest” to make the dark one mine.’

‘We'll see all about that, my boy. Anyhow she's as free to me as to you.’

Boylike, for in feelings we were but boys, though Harry was about two years my senior, we vowed that whatever happened, or which-ever won the prize we both desired, our bond of friendship should not be broken; that the one who was vanquished should consider that his loss was his friend's gain, and take his defeat calmly.

How we carried out this determination time will show. Had we been less enthusiastic about our prospects in the new country, we might have considered that at our ages it was madness to think of falling in love at first sight and trying to win the affections of a young lady like our fair fellow-passenger.

But it is time to describe as briefly as possible a few of the other characters with whom we were thrown in contact. To begin with the officers of the ship, the captain was a short, thickset elderly man with a very red face, caused, we soon found, by an extreme page 6 affection for a very potent liquor generally known as old Jamaica. He was a great bully in words, but as is often the case, a coward in deeds. The first mate was a very similar character; the only noticeable difference seemed to be occasioned by the diversity of his position. It was that whereas the captain only worshipped himself and his grog, the mate added his superior officer to the list of his deities. The second mate was a complete contrast—a fine, manly young fellow. Our doctor was an exceedingly erratic individual, also very partial to the bottle. The only other saloon passengers besides ourselves and the Robinson party were three single gentlemen. The first was, as he seemed to take great care to inform us, Mr Augustus Grosvenor, a baronet's son ‘travelling for pleashaw.’ Miss Julia often remarked what a very aristocratic looking youth he was. If always wearing kid gloves, parting what little light-coloured hair he had in the middle, and constantly trying to curl a moustache which from its scantiness defied his utmost efforts, as well as a general get up which would have suited a dummy in a tailor's shop, constituted an aristocratic appearance, he most certainly owned it. Number two was a young fellow named Brown, who was going out as a cadet to some friends in the colonies. He was of a retiring nature, and passed a good deal of his time in fishing for sea birds with a hook and line, and when he did catch one—which was certainly not nearly as often as his patience deserved—he would skin it and take it to the cook shop to ascertain whether its flavour was as saline as it was reported to be. In most cases he affirmed that former authorities erred, that the birds were simply delicious.

On one occasion the mate, on meeting him, inquired what he was going to do with a denuded molly-hawk he was carrying carefully trussed in his hand.

‘Cook it and eat it, to be sure,’ he replied.

‘Why, man, you'll be eating the devil's hind leg next,’ was the retort.

‘I believe I would if I could catch him,’ said this very quiet young man; ‘and I think you would make excellent bait, for he could not miss but snap at you.’

He then hastily sought solitude, having exhausted his limited powers of repartee, while he shrewdly guessed his adversary had still a supply on hand. Brown was rather a shy youth, decidedly averse to ladies' society.

The third was a young man named Joseph Gracie. He was a ‘shingle short,’ without doubt, had a red face and redder hair, and a most unprepossessing appearance. Nothing, however, would persuade him to believe but that he was a most engaging youth, and to be a lady's man appeared the one aim of his existence. His friends, in their joy at effectually disposing of him, had bestowed on him a very liberal outfit, clothes enough apparently to last him for years. He had labelled all his cases, ‘Wanted on the Voyage,’ and made his appearance in a different suit almost every day.

The first part of the voyage was uneventful. Miss Julia soon displayed a remarkable aptitude for flirtation. The fact that the gentlemen exceeded the ladies in number gave her a splendid chance of trying the effect of her youthful fascinations. Grosvenor being a baronet's son was installed first favourite, much to the disgust of myself and my friend, to say nothing of the rest of the party. As he page 7 was ‘travelling for pleashaw,’ and we were going out to make our fortunes by hard work, he looked down on us, and was constantly making unpleasant remarks about us to Miss Julia in our hearing, at which she laughed in a manner by no means consistent with true politeness. When we at any time taxed him with insulting us, he always managed to shuffle out of the accusation in some way or other. He was the sort of fellow we should have detested, even if the sentiment of jealousy had not augmented that detestation. Gracie carried his experiments of dress and deportment to a frantic pitch. Harry often mischievously remarked to the poor fellow that he had heard Miss Julia say she did admire him in this, that, or the other attire, generally fixing on one which contrasted most hideously with his rubicund visage. He was constantly requesting her to allow him to read to her his last new poem, for he fancied himself in this line. His effusions, for some inexplicable cause, invariably had an exactly opposite effect to that intended, for instead of calling forth sympathy, pity and answering love, they evoked nothing but ridicule and contempt. Finding this pursuit hopeless, he next bestowed his favours on Miss Grave; but even her good nature could not long endure his amorous persecutions, and she at last convinced him that she was not contemplating matrimony. He then directed his attentions with more success to a nice-looking girl in the steerage, the daughter of an old washerwoman. Harry and I at this time received about an equal share of Miss Julia's favours—equal in scantiness, I must admit, for it was only when she wished to punish Grosvenor for some fancied misdemeanour that she took any particular notice of us, and although we could see through her motive, yet we were in love, and therefore valued any crumbs of comfort we could obtain.

Matters went on in this way for some time, and I must say I did not enjoy this part of the voyage. Harry, who had been my old and trusty school chum in all my previous troubles, when I sought consolation from him—thinking we might surely sympathise with one another, as we were in the same fix—proved most morose and irritable, and only made matters worse

‘I'll have no more to do with her,’ he exclaimed one day. ‘I'll go for the other one. That will bring her to her bearings if she really does care for me, which I firmly believe is the case. She said the other day that she much preferred my company to that of the fairhaired Adonis, as she called him—curse him!—but that her parents had to be considered, and they would be very angry if she gave me too much of her society; so she flirted with him to please them, but I might be sure she loved some one else better.’

‘Why,’ I replied with a sneer, ‘those are almost the exact words she used to me the day before yesterday, and I am certain she has a greater affection for some one else.’

‘And that some one is you, I suppose you think, you conceited ass?’

‘No, it's not, nor you either, though you have admitted that you imagined so; but, of course, you are not a conceited ass! Oh, no, you are a very owl of wisdom, ain't you? It's herself, my boy, that she loves better than any of us, and she will play with all of us as long as we are fools enough to let her.’

‘Why, then, be such a tool, Master Socrates, with the knowledge you have of the state of the case? Anyhow when I chaffed her about page 8 you the other day, she told me straight that you had not the slightest show, so you see you are right as far as your remark applies to yourself.’

‘Oh, as far as that goes I don't expect you to believe me, but she whispered to me yesterday when you were present that she detested you, and that if you were the only marriagable man in the world she'd die an old maid; it's nevertheless true.’

‘I should not think you did expect me to believe any infernal lies you choose to make up when I've heaid the contrary from her own lips,’ replied Harry, hotly.

‘Well, Harry,’ I answered, keeping down my wrath at his accusation, ‘it's no good us quarrelling. Grosvenor is the favourite now, that's very evident, and we can both abuse him, but let us try and avoid the subject of the amount of affection Miss Julia has for us. There isn't enough of it to be worth talking about, let alone causing a pair of such old friends as we are to fall out.’

We little knew at this time how soon Master Grosvenor was to fall off the pedestal on which Miss Julia worshipped him, nor yet how his rmoval would add to our troubles, and more completely sever our friendly relations to one another.

Harry certainly carried out his intentions of ‘going for’ the other one, but not being accustomed to be ‘gone for’ in his impetuous style, she quietly repelled him; in fact, she completely took the wind out of his sails by the cold but perfectly ladylike style of making him keep his distance. To do her justice, she often tried to instil into her charge a little of the dignity and bearing she exhibited in her converse with the other sex, which was, nevertheless, perfectly pleasant and natural. But her admonitions were totally disregarded. Miss Julia could not resist the grand opportunities she had of encouraging admiration from her various victims, the more especially as her mother was laid up in her cabin the greater part of the voyage. It can be imagined that the companion under such circumstances would have but little influence over a girl of Miss Robinson's nature, a born flirt. Her only reply generally was that her friend was a fool not to have some fun on her own account, or a rude taunt that she needn't talk, for hadn't she brought poor Mr Gracie on to his knees before she had been on board a week, and wasn't she (Miss G.) trying her hardest to get Harry Baker now? The former accusation was, indeed, partly true, but it had been more her misfortune than fault, for poor Gracie utterly ignored her efforts at discouragement. The latter, it is needless to remark, was false. She, of course, saw the state of affairs, and had too much spirit to appreciate or respond to attentions which were obviously so easily transferred. Harry, who possessed a considerable amount more self-conceit than tact or knowledge of the other sex, had imagined that his devotion would be gladly accepted by the young lady, and was consequently greatly annoyed at his want of success. I could not resist giving him a piece of friendly advice, so I pointed out that he was too impetuous, that it was the manner of his love-making, not the man, that she objected to. He only swore at me, and declared he would have nothing to do with either of them—that they weren't worth it—he wasn't such a love-sick fool as I was, etc., etc.

Anyone who has never undertaken a long sea voyage in a sailing vessel with a small complement of saloon passengers in the old days will be astonished that we succumbed to such a state of spooneydom— page 9 to coin a word. But it must be remembered that we were all young and verdant, and that on board there is really nothing else to do. People are thrown into more intimate relationship with one another than on shore, save perhaps in the case of large country house parties; but then they have driving, riding, hunting, shooting, and a host of other things to occupy their time, which are unobtainable on an ocean voyage. To make matters worse, our party could boast of no very brilliant musicians, and although we occasionally tried musical evenings, the performances were not of a high order of merit. Miss Julia gave us sundry extra sentimental love songs. The favoured hero of the hour, to whom her glances were directed as she sang some passionate thrilling line, considered her rendering of the song all that could be desired, while those who were out in the cold observed that she sang with a great deal too much expression, and that her songs were simply a lot of gushing rot. Miss Grave always chose simple pieces of a different style, with as little love in them as possible, but it was noticeable that they did not appear to be as much appreciated as Miss Julia's high-pitched, inflammatory declarations of amatory sentiments. This is what I call them now. At the time I confess I considered them divine, provided I was the party in favour, and could take to myself the tender expressions of the song, greatly enhanced by the eloquent language of her brilliant dark fringed eyes. This sort of thing, you will see, had the effect of increasing instead of subduing our folly.