"I think I ought to let you know who I am. My name is Wetherell, and my father is the Colonial Secretary. I'm sure he will be quite as grateful to you as I am. Good-bye!"
She seemed to forget that we had already shaken hands, for she extended her own a second time. I took it and tried to say something polite, but she stepped into her carriage and shut the door before I could think of anything, and next moment she was being whirled away up the street.
Now old fogies and disappointed spinsters can say what they please about love at first sight. I'm not a romantic sort of person—far from it—the sort of life I had hitherto led was not of a nature calculated to foster that sort of thing. But if I wasn't over head and ears in love when I resumed my walk that evening, well, I've never known what the sensation is.
A daintier, prettier, sweeter little angel surely never walked the earth than the girl I had just been permitted the opportunity of rescuing; and from that moment forward my time slipped by in a rosy mist of enchantment. I seemed to retain the soft pressure of her fingers in mine for hours afterwards, and as a proof of the perturbed state of my feelings I may add that I congratulated myself warmly on having worn that day my new and fashionable Sydney suit instead of the garments in which I had travelled down from Torres Straits, and which I had considered quite good enough for even high days and holidays. That she herself would remember me for more than an hour never struck me as being likely. So it was purely a one-sided matter, as you will conjecture.
Next morning I donned my best suit again, gave myself an extra brush up, and sauntered down town to see if I could run across her in the streets. What reason I had for thinking I should, is more than I can tell you, but at any rate I was not destined to be disappointed. Crossing George Street a carriage passed me and in it sat the girl whose fair image had exercised such an effect upon my mind. That she saw and recognised me was evident by the gracious bow and smile with which she favoured me. Then she passed out of sight and it was a wonder that that minute didn't see the end of my career, for I stood like one in a dream looking in the direction in which she had gone, and it was not until two hansoms and a brewer's wagon had nearly run me down that I realised that it would be safer for me to pursue my meditations on the side walk.
I got back to my hotel at lunch time, and during the progress of that meal a brilliant idea struck me. Supposing I plucked up courage and went to call! Why not? It would be only a polite action to enquire if she were any the worse for her fright. The thought was no sooner born in my brain than I was eager to be off. But it was too early for such a formal business, so I had to cool my heels in the hall for an hour or so. Then, hailing a hansom and enquiring the direction of their house, I drove off to Potts Point. The house was the last in the street—an imposing mansion standing in well-laid-out grounds. The butler answered my ring, and in response to my enquiry dashed my hopes to the ground by informing me that Miss Wetherell was out.
"She's very busy, you see, at present, sir. She and the master leave for England on Friday in the 'Orizaba.'"
"What!" I cried, almost forgetting myself in my astonishment. "You don't mean to say Miss Wetherell goes to England in the 'Orizaba'?"
"I do, sir. And I do hear she's goin' 'ome to be presented at Court, sir!"
"Ah! Thank you. Will you give her my card, and say I hope she is none the worse for her fright last evening?"
He took the card and a substantial tip with it, and I went back to my cab in the seventh heaven of delight. I was to be shipmates with this lovely creature! For six weeks or more I should be able to see her every day! It seemed almost too good to be true. Instinctively I began to make all sorts of plans and arrangements. Who knew but what—but stay, we must bring ourselves up here with a round turn or we shall be anticipating what's to come.
To make a long story short—for it must be remembered that what I am telling you is only to lead up to all the extraordinary things that will have to be told later on—the day of sailing came. I went down to the boat on the morning of her departure, and got my baggage safely stowed away in my cabin before the rush set in. My cabin mate was to join me in Adelaide, so for the first few days of the voyage I should be alone.
About three o'clock we hove our anchor and steamed slowly down the Bay. It was a perfect afternoon, and the Harbour, with its myriad craft of all nationalities and sizes, the blue water backed by stately hills, presented a scene the beauty of which would have appealed to the mind of the most prosaic. I had been below when the Wetherells arrived on board, so the young lady had not yet become aware of my presence. Whether she would betray any astonishment when she did find out was beyond my power to tell; at any rate I know that I was by a long way the happiest man aboard the boat that day. However, I was not to be kept long in suspense. Before we had reached the Heads it was all settled, and satisfactorily so. I was standing on the promenade deck, just abaft the main saloon entrance, watching the moving panorama stretched before me, when I heard a voice I recognised only too well saying behind me:
"And so good-bye to you, dear old Sydney. Great things will have happened when I set eyes on you again."
Little did she know how prophetic her words were. As she spoke I confronted her. For a moment she turned, overwhelmed with surprise, then, stretching out her hand, said:
"Really, Mr. Hatteras, this is most wonderful. You are the last person I expected to meet on board the 'Orizaba.'"
"And perhaps," I replied, "I might with justice say the same of you. It looks as if we are going to be fellow travellers."
She turned to a tall white-bearded man beside her.
"Papa, I must introduce you to Mr. Hatteras. You will remember that I told you how kind Mr. Hatteras was to me when those larrikins were rude to me in the Domain."
"I am sincerely obliged to you, Mr. Hatteras," he said, holding out his hand and shaking mine heartily. "My daughter did tell me, and I called yesterday at your hotel to thank you personally, but you were unfortunately not at home. Are you visiting Europe?"
"Yes, I'm going home to sell some pearls and to see the place where my father was born."
"Are you then, like myself, an Australian native? I mean, of course, as you know, Colonial born?" asked Miss Wetherell with a little laugh. The idea of her calling herself an Australian native. The very notion seemed preposterous.
"I was born at sea, a degree and a half south of Mauritius, so I don't exactly know what you would call me. I hope you have comfortable cabins?"
"Very. We have made two or three voyages in this boat before, and we always take the same places. And now, papa, we must really go and see where poor Miss Thompson is. We are beginning to feel the swell and she'll be wanting to go below. Good-bye for the present, Mr. Hatteras."
I raised my cap and watched her walk away down the deck, balancing herself as if she had been accustomed to a heaving plank all her life. Then I turned to watch the fast receding shore, and to my own thoughts, which were none of the saddest, I can confidently assure you. For it must be confessed, and why should I deny it? that I was in love from the soles of my deck shoes to the cap upon my head. But as to the chance that I, a humble pearler, would stand with one of Sydney's wealthiest and most beautiful daughters why that's another matter, and one that, for the present, I was anxious to keep behind me.
Within the week we had left Adelaide behind us, and four days later Albany was also a thing of the past. By the time we had cleared the Lewin we had all settled down to our life aboard ship, the bad sailors were beginning to appear on deck again, and the medium voyagers to make various excuses for their absences from meals. It was plainly evident that Miss Wetherell was the belle of the ship. Everybody paid her attention from the skipper downwards. And this being so, I prudently kept out of the way myself, for I had no desire to be thought to presume on our previous acquaintance. Whether she noticed this I cannot say, but at any rate her manner to me when we did speak was more cordial than I had any right or reason to expect. Seeing this, there were not wanting people on board who scoffed and sneered at the idea of the Colonial Secretary's daughter noticing so humble a person as myself, and when