When the sun rose on the following morning, nothing but green seas surrounded us, and the Margrave of Brandenburg was doing her best to live up to the reputation I soon discovered she possessed — namely, of being the worst roller in the North Sea trade. She was by no means a large craft, nor, as I soon remarked, was she particularly well found; she belonged to a firm of Altona Jews, and, as the captain was wont to say pathetically, “The only thing they did not grudge him was the right to do as much work on the smallest amount of pay on which it was possible for a man to keep body and soul together.” The captain’s nationality was more difficult to determine than that of his employers. He called himself an Englishman, but, unfortunately for this assertion, his accent belied him. In addition to English, he spoke German like a Frenchman, and French like a German, was equally at home in Russian — which, to say the least of it, is not a language for the amateur — Italian also, while in a moment of confidence he found occasion to inform me that he had served for three years on board a Spanish troop-ship, an assertion which would lead one to suppose that he was conversant with that language also. In point of fact, he was one of that curious class of sailor commonly met with outside the British mercantile marine, who, if you asked them, would find it difficult to tell you where they were born, and who have been so long at sea that one country has become like another to them, provided the liquor is good and they can scrape together a sufficient living out of it; and one flag is equal to another, provided, of course, it is not Chinese, which as everyone knows is no use to anyone, not even to themselves.
For the week, and more particularly for the forty-eight hours preceding our departure from Hamburg, I had been living in such a state of nervous tension that, as soon as we were once clear of the land, the reaction that set in was almost more than I could bear. The prophecy Pharos had given utterance to regarding Valerie had been verified to the letter. At the hour appointed for leaving, she had descended from her room, looking at first glance as healthy and strong as I had ever seen her. It was only when I came close up to her and could catch a glimpse of her eyes that I saw how dilated the pupils were and how unnatural was the light they contained. From the moment she appeared upon the stairs, throughout the drive through the city, and until we reached the steamer, not a word crossed her lips, and it was only when we were in the saloon and Pharos bade her retire to her cabin, that she found her voice and spoke to me.
“Good night,” she said very slowly, as if it hurt her even to speak the words, and then added with infinite sadness, “You have been very good and patient with me, Cyril.” Having said this, she disappeared into her cabin, and I saw no more of her that night.
As I remarked at the commencement of this chapter, the sun when it rose next morning found us in open water. Not a trace of the land was to be seen, and you may be sure I was not sorry to be away from it. Taking one thing with another, I had not spent a pleasant night. I had tried sleeping in my bunk, but without success. It was filthy in the extreme, and so small that I found it quite impossible to stretch myself out at full length. Accordingly, I had tumbled and tossed in it, tried every position, and had at last vacated it in favour of the settee in the saloon, where I had remained until the first signs of day showed themselves. Then I went on deck to find a beautiful pearl-grey dawn, in which the steamer seemed a speck on the immensity of sea. I tried to promenade the deck, only to find that the vessel’s rolling rendered it extremely difficult, if not well-nigh impossible. I accordingly made my way to a sheltered spot, just abaft the saloon entrance, and, seating myself on the skylight, endeavoured to collect my thoughts. It was a more difficult matter than would at first be supposed, for the reason that the side issues involved were so many, and also so important, and I found myself being continually drawn from the main point at issue, which was the question as to what was to become of Valerie and myself since we found it impossible to escape from Pharos. How the latter had become possessed of the secret of our intention to escape from him I could not imagine, nor could I understand how he had been able to pursue and capture us with such accuracy and despatch. As it had turned out, it was just as well that he did follow us, and I shivered again as I thought of what Valerie’s fate might have been had he not come upon the scene so opportunely. Of one thing I was quite convinced, in spite of the threats he had used, and that was that, as soon as we reached England, I would find some way — how I was to do so I did not for the moment quite realise — of getting the woman I loved out of his clutches, this time for good and all.
I breakfasted that morning alone. Valerie being still too ill to leave her bunk, while Pharos, as usual, did not put in appearance until close upon midday. By the time he did so the sea had lost much of its former violence, and the vessel was, in consequence, making better progress. How I longed to be in England no one can have any idea. The events of the last few months, if they had done nothing else, had at least deprived me of my taste for travel, and as for the land of Egypt, the liking I had once entertained for that country had given place to a hatred that was as vigorous as I had deemed the other sincere.
I have already said that it was midday before Pharos made his appearance on deck; but when he did, so far as his amiability was concerned, he would have been very much better below. Being accustomed by this time to note the changes in his manner, it did not take me very long to see that this was one of his bad days. For this reason I resolved to keep out of his way as far as possible, but in my attempt I was only partly successful.
“In thirty-eight hours, my friend,” he said, when he had found me out, “you will be in England once more, and the desire of your heart will be gratified. You should be grateful to me, for had I not followed you to Hamburg, it is quite certain you would still be in that plague-ridden city, and where would Valerie be? Well, Valerie would be —— But there, we will have no more of those little escapades, if you please, so remember that. The next time you attempt to play me false, I shall know how to deal with you. All things considered, it was a good day for me when you fell in love with Valerie.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, for I neither liked the look on his face nor the way he spoke.
“I mean what I say,” he answered. “You love Valerie, and she loves you; but —— Well, to put it mildly, she does what I tell her, and for the future so must you! It would be as well, perhaps, if you would bear that fact in mind.”
I rose from the skylight upon which I had been sitting and faced him.
“Monsieur Pharos,” I said, holding up my hand in protest, “you have gone quite far enough. Let me advise you to think twice before you make use of such threats to me. I do not understand by what right you speak to me in this fashion.”
“There are many things you do not understand, and at present it is not my intention to enlighten you,” he answered, with consummate coolness. “Only remember this — while you act in accordance with my wishes, you are safe, but if at any time you attempt to thwart me, I give you fair warning I will crush you like a worm.”
So saying, he darted another glance at me full of intense malignity, and then took his departure. When he had gone I seated myself again and endeavoured to solve the riddle of his behaviour. What his purpose could be in keeping me with him, and why he was always threatening me with punishment if I did not act in accordance with his wishes, were two questions I tried to answer, but in vain. That there was something behind it all which boded ill for myself, I felt morally certain, but what that something was I had yet to discover. If I had known all, I wonder what course of action I should have pursued.
For the remainder of the day I saw nothing of Pharos. He had shut himself up in his cabin with only the monkey for company. Towards the end of the afternoon, however, he sent for the captain, and they remained closeted together for a quarter of an hour. When the latter appeared again, it was with an unusually white face. He passed me on the companion-ladder, and from the light I saw in his eyes I surmised that Pharos had been treating him to a sample of his ill-humour, and that he had come out of it considerably scared. Once more I partook of the evening meal alone, and, as I was by this time not only thoroughly tired of my own company, but worn out with anxiety and continual brooding upon one subject, I sought my couch at an early hour. My dreams that night were far from good. The recollection of that terrible afternoon in Hamburg, when Valerie had been taken ill, and Pharos had so unexpectedly appeared in time to save her, was sufficient to wake me up in a cold sweat of fear. When I had somewhat recovered, I became aware that someone was knocking on my cabin door. To my surprise it proved to be the captain.
“What is the matter?” I inquired, as he entered. “What brings you here?”
“I have come to you for your advice,” he said nervously, as he fidgeted with his cap. “I can tell you we’re in a bad way aboard this ship.”
“Why, what has happened?” I inquired, sitting up and staring at his white face. “Have we met with an accident?”
“We have,” he answered, “and a bad one. A worse could scarcely have befallen us.” Then, sinking his voice to a whisper, he added, ”The plague has broken out aboard!“
“The plague!” I cried, in consternation. “Do you mean it? For Heaven’s sake, man, be sure you are not making a mistake before you say such a thing!”
“I only wish I were not sure,” he replied. “Unfortunately there is no getting away from the fact. The plague’s upon us, sure enough, and, what’s worse, I’m afraid it’s come to stay.”
“How many cases are there?” I asked, “and when did you discover it? Tell me everything.”
“We found it out early this morning,” the captain replied. “There are two cases, the steward aft here, and the cook for’ard. The steward is dead; we pitched him overboard just before I came down to you. The cook is very nearly as bad. I can tell you, I wish I was anywhere but where I am. I’ve got a wife and youngsters depending on me at home. The thing spreads like fire, they say, and poor Reimann was as well as you are a couple of hours ago. He brought me a cup of coffee and a biscuit up on to the bridge at eight bells, and now to think he’s overboard!”
The captain concluded his speech with a groan, and then stood watching me and waiting for me to speak.
“But I can’t understand what brings you to me,” I said. “I don’t see how I can help you.”
“I came to you because I wanted to find out what I had better do,” he returned. “I thought most probably you would be able to advise me, and I didn’t want to go to him.” Here he nodded his head in the direction of Pharos’s cabin. “If you could only have heard the way he bulliragged me yesterday you would understand why. If I’d been a dog in the street he couldn’t have treated me worse, and all because I was unable to make the boat travel twice as fast as her engines would let her go.”
“But I don’t see how I’m to help you in this matter,” I said, and then added, with what could only have been poor comfort, “We don’t know who may be the next case.”
“That’s the worst part of it,” he answered. “For all we can tell it may be you, and it might be me. I suppose you’re as much afraid of it as I am.”
I had to confess that I was, and then inquired what means he proposed to adopt for stamping it out.
“I don’t know what to do,” he answered, and the words were scarcely out of his mouth before another rap sounded on the cabin door. He opened it to find a deck hand standing outside. A muttered conversation ensued between them, after which the captain, with a still more scared look upon his face, returned to me.
“It’s getting worse,” he said. “The chief engineer’s down now, and the bosun has sent word to say he don’t feel well. God help us if this sort of thing is going to continue! Every mother’s son aboard this ship will make sure he’s got it, and then who’s to do the work? We may as well go to the bottom right off.”
Trouble was indeed pursuing us. It seemed as if I were destined to get safely out of one difficulty only to fall into another. If this terrible scourge continued we should indeed be in straits; for the Continent was barred to us on one hand, and England on the other, while to turn her head and put back to Hamburg was a course we could not dream of adopting. One thing was plain to me; to avoid any trouble later we must inform Pharos. So, advising the captain to separate those who had contracted the disease from those who were still well, I left my cabin and crossed to the further side of the saloon. To my surprise Pharos received the news with greater equanimity than I had expected he would show.
“I doubted whether we should escape unsca............