There was one consolation. Surely such a weak man was not worthy of Chantel?

In the afternoon of the second day I sat on the deck with a book. I had been out in the morning and was rather tired. Edward was with his parents. I did not know where Chantel was.

Dick Callum came and sat beside me.

He said: “May I have the pleasure of taking you out to dine tonight?”

I hesitated.

“Oh come, you mustn’t say no. I shall be most hurt if you do.”

His smile was very pleasant and after all what had he done except honor me with his admiration and bear a certain animosity to Redvers, which in the circumstances some people would say was natural.

So I accepted. He could not stay with me now. He was on duty and the purser’s office as I knew was at its busiest when we were in port.

That evening he took me out to Rose Bay. It was a delightful restaurant, each table candlelit with blue and gold candles; there was an orchestra which played romantic music and a violinist who came to our table and played especially for me.

Dick was doing everything possible to please me, and it would have been ungrateful not to appreciate this.

He apologized for his outburst on the previous occasion.

“I admit,” he said, “that I am jealous of the Captain.”

“Then,” I said, “this is the first step to conquering this emotion which …”

“Yes. I know. It hurts me more than it hurts him.”

“Do I sound so tutorial?”

“Charmingly so. And it is true, of course. I suppose it’s a form of admiration. He’s a first-class captain. And that is important. The Captain sets the pattern for the whole of the ship. It’s a pity …” He hesitated and I urged him to go on.

“It’s no good harking back, but it is a pity about The Secret Woman. That sort of thing sticks. There’s not a member of the crew who doesn’t know something about that shady incident, and very likely puts a certain construction on it. At least it makes them fear a man if they don’t respect him.”

“So the crew fears and does not respect the Captain.”

“I didn’t mean to put it so definite as that, but when an incident occurs like that, when a captain loses his ship in mysterious circumstances, he never escapes from the stigma. As I said to you before, if it had happened to anyone not connected with the Creditons, he would have lost his master’s ticket. But we don’t want to talk of that, do we. We have said all that can be said. What do you think of Sydney?”

“Interesting, beautiful beyond my expectations.”

He nodded. “And what are you going to think of the Island?”

“That’s something I can’t say as yet surely?”

“Anna, I don’t like leaving you there.”

“It’s kind of you to be so concerned. But why do you feel this anxiety?”

“Perhaps it’s because of what happened there. The ship … being blown up in the bay there.”

“I thought we had decided not to discuss the incident.”

“I’m not discussing the incident really. I’m thinking of the Island. It’s uncanny. Suppose the Captain was not concerned? Suppose someone there put a curse on the ship?”

“Oh really, you do not believe that sort of thing do you?”

“Many people don’t believe in ghosts in the bright daylight do they? But they change their minds when the darkness falls. How many scoffers would spend the night alone in a house reputed to be haunted? Well, I don’t believe in curses and spells here in Sydney, here in this restaurant with you sitting opposite me and the violins playing Mendelssohn’s Song Without Words. But on the Island it might be a different matter, and we are getting very near to the Island.”

“Who would put a spell on a ship?”

“Perhaps it went back long ago. Perhaps it wasn’t one of the islanders. There is a story about that ship. It was to be named Lucky Lady or something like that. I never heard what. But Lady Crediton named it … somewhat unexpectedly. Imagine her feelings when she named that ship. She was thinking of that woman, the Captain’s mother. She said ‘I name this ship The Secret Woman and may God bless all who sail on her.’ Suppose she did not say bless, but curse. Suppose she was the one who laid the curse on the ship?”

“You are talking like some old soothsayer. Not at all like the Purser of the Serene Lady.”

“We all have our moments of superstition, Anna. Even you will have yours, if you have never had them already. Wait until she gets to the Island, until you feel the atmosphere of the place. We shall be coming back there after a while.”

“Two months,” I said.

“And then, Anna, I shall ask you again what I asked you before, for who knows what may happen in two months?”

Then we talked of other things; he told me of his ambitions. He wanted a home in England, somewhere to come back to in between voyages. He had seen the Queen’s House. It was well-known in Langmouth. I realized it had become so after Aunt Charlotte’s death.

I think he was picturing coming home to the Queen’s House. He was trying to build up a picture for me to see. A life together — a life of serenity and perhaps happiness.

I let him talk. I hadn’t the heart to say I could never marry him.

And that night as I slept in the ship lying still in the dock I dreamed of Aunt Charlotte. She came to my room in the Queen’s House. I opened my eyes and saw her standing there, and her face was hazy and benevolent as it had rarely been in life; she was like a dream figure but the cluttered furniture of the room was lifelike.

“Don’t be a fool,” she said. “Take what you can get. Don’t go stretching out for the impossible. And how is it possible, eh? Not without disaster. Not without tragedy. You were involved in sudden death once before, my girl.”

Then in my dream I heard mocking laughter. It was Monique’s.

My pounding heart awoke me and I lay thinking of the future, the Queen’s House, and children, my children playing on the lawn. Then I slept again and strangely the dream continued. I went to the gate and there were two men standing there. And I was not sure which one I came in with.

A fantastic dream. Symbolic?


* * *

We were sailing at midday. The Glennings had come on board the previous day. They were staying for a few weeks in a hotel on Bondi Beach and asked me if I would like to bring Edward for a little outing. Edward, who was present, declared his desire to go so I accepted the invitation. They had always been very pleasant to me although I had had little to do with them.

They took us out driving and we went beyond the town and to where in the far distance we could see the hazy Blue Mountains. I was a little uneasy for I feared we should not be back on the ship in time, and I wondered what would happen if it sailed without us.

Gareth Glenning, understanding my anxiety, soothed me. “Don’t worry, Miss Brett, we’ll get back in good time.”

“If you didn’t,” said Edward, his eyes round with horror, “would the Captain sail without us?”

“Ship’s time waits for no one,” I said. “But we’ve time.”

“We are going to miss you all,” said Claire. “So much. But we’re seeing Mr. Crediton in Sydney.”

“A pity you have to go on and leave us,” added Gareth. “Still you have Nurse Loman with you.”

“The Captain is sailing with us,” said Edward proudly.

“Where the ship is he has to be,” I added.

“We’re getting near to the docks. I can see masts,” said Edward. “Look.”

“Nurse Loman is a very lively companion,” went on Claire. “We are going to miss her very much.”

, “So will Uncle Rex,” said Edward. “Everybody says so.”

The Glennings smiled in rather an embarrassed way. I believed they were sorry for Chantel; and they had seen more of her in Rex’s company than I had.

I said, changing the subject: “We shall find it much cooler when we’re at sea again.” But Claire brought the conversation back to Chantel. She must have had an adventurous career. She had nursed a Lady Henrock, they believed, before she came to my aunt.

“She has talked of her.”

“A very unusual young woman.”

Naturally they were impressed by Chantel. Anyone would be. She was far more interesting than I was. I had always known that. It occurred to me that the Glennings had brought me out to talk about her. I wondered whether they knew of a case and were hoping to engage her after … I must stop being obsessed by the thought that Monique would not live long.

“We shall think of you on the Island,” said Gareth. “We’ve heard quite a lot about it.”

“From Mr. Crediton? I didn’t know he’d ever been there.”

“I don’t believe he has,” replied Gareth. “But it’s talked of on the ship. There seems to be some … bogey about it.”

“Oh Gareth, you shouldn’t say that,” said Claire, mildly reproving. “Miss Brett is going to live there.”

“Just a lot of talk,” said Gareth.

“I’ve heard the rumors. In any case if we don’t like it we can leave.” Now we were at the docks. It was half an hour before we sailed, not a lot of spare time because the gangways would be taken up within ten minutes. I took a last farewell of the Glennings, and Edward and I went to our cabin. He was chattering about cranes and cargoes. He wanted to see us leave the dock, so I took him on deck and we remained there while the last duties were performed. We waved to the people on the dockside and the band there played and Edward skipped about with excitement until he remembered that he was leaving Australia and that Johnny was somewhere in that vast continent; then he became a little thoughtful.

He said to me in a hushed whisper: “The Captain’s guiding her, you know. He’s up there telling them all what to do.”

And that seemed to comfort him.

I wanted to see Chantel — I thought I must know how she was taking her parting from Rex and this would be the time to discover.

She was not in her cabin. So I went uneasily to mine.

I said to Edward: “Let’s go for a walk on deck.”

We walked, but there was no sign of Chantel.

I might have known, I thought. She’s gone. They’ve run away together. That was why she was so calm. She’s been planning this.

Edward did not know what a turmoil my thoughts were in. He was wondering what there would be for lunch.

I tried to answer his questions as though nothing had happened. I was thinking: I am going to that island alone. It was brought home to me afresh — although I had always been aware of it — how much I relied on her, her gaiety, her crazy outlook on life, her absence of sentimentality.

Of course, I thought, he would never let her go.

In a short time we should be right out into the Pacific sea and no longer see the comforting land.

And then the Island, the strange alien Island with its atmosphere of doom and curses, the Island about which everyone was warning me, without Chantel.

I left Edward in the cabin and went again to Chantel’s. Its emptiness depressed me — more than that it frightened me.

I was not as bold or as strong as I believed myself to be. I should never have come on this journey but for Chantel. I went back to my cabin. Edward began to chatter about Johnny. He still wondered what he was having for his luncheon.

I couldn’t settle. Half an hour had passed.

Soon luncheon would be served and it would be discovered that Chantel was missing.

Had she gone out and miscalculated the time? After all, it was what I had feared might happen to us. Oh no, I thought, Chantel would never do that. Chantel would never miscalculate.

But why hadn’t she told me?

I couldn’t rest. I went back to her cabin.

I threw open the door and walked in and as I did so I was caught in a firm grip and a hand was placed over my eyes. In that second I was terrified that something fearful was going to happen to me. It is amazing how many thoughts can come crowding into the mind in such a short time. I thought of Edward’s being carried out onto the deck. I thought of myself overpowered, thrown into the sea. The easiest place to commit a murder would be at sea, Chantel had said. There would be so little difficulty in disposing of the body.

Then I heard a chuckle. I tore the hand from my eyes and swung round.

Chantel was laughing at me.

My joy and relief was obvious.

“Confess!” she said. “You thought I had deserted.”