Виктория Холт - The Captive

“I can’t tell you how delighted I am to be going,” he said.

“I have often thought what a lucky day it was for me when I made that find in the garden.”

My father smiled and remarked that the message on the stone was a little difficult to decipher not the hieroglyphics, of course, but the meaning . the accurate meaning. It was typical, he went on to say, of the Arabic mind. Always fraught with obscurity.

“But that is what makes it all so interesting,” put in Lucas Lorimer.

“It was good of you to come and tell us of your invitation,” my father went on, ‘and your decision to accept. “

“My dear Professor, how could I refuse the honour of sharing a platform with you … well, not exactly sharing, but being allowed to follow in your footsteps, shall I say?”

My parents were clearly delighted, which showed they could emerge from the rarified atmosphere in which they usually lived to bask in a little flattery.

He was asked to luncheon, when we discussed the journey and my father, encouraged by my mother, went on to talk of the subject of the lectures he would be giving in South Africa and North America.

I could only think: he will be on the ship with us. He will be in foreign places with us. And a considerable excitement had been injected into the prospect.

In a way it took the edge off my apprehension.

Lucas Lorimer’s presence would certainly add a spice to the adventure.

Boarding a ship for the first time was an exhilarating experience. I had driven to Tilbury with my parents and had sat demurely listening to their conversation on the way down, which was mainly about the lectures my father would give. I was rather pleased about this because it relieved me of the strain of talking. He did refer to Lucas Lorimer and wondered how his talk would be received.

“He will have only a superficial knowledge of the subject, of course, but I have heard he has a light-hearted way of representing it. Not the right approach, but a little lightness seems to be acceptable now and then.”

“He will be talking to people of knowledge, I hope,” said my mother.

“Oh yes.” My father turned to smile at me.

“If there are any questions you wish to ask, you must not hesitate to do so, Rosetta.”

“Yes,” added my mother, ‘if you know a little it will enhance your enjoyment of the lectures. “

I thanked them and fancied they were not entirely dissatisfied with me.

I had a cabin next to my parents which I was to share with a girl who was going to South Africa to join her parents who were farming there. She had left school, and was a little older than I. Her name was Mary Kelpin and she was pleasant enough. She had travelled this way several times and was more knowledgeable than I. She chose the lower of the two bunks, which I did not mind in the least. I imagined I should have felt a little stifled sleeping below.

She meticulously divided the wardrobe we had to share; and I thought that, for the time we were at sea, we should get on well.

It was early evening when we set sail and almost immediately Lucas Lorimer discovered us. I heard his voice in my parents’ cabin. I did not join them but decided to explore the ship. I went up the companionway to the public rooms and then out to the deck to take the last glimpse of the dock before we sailed. I was leaning on the rail studying the activity below when he came upon me.

“I guessed you’d be here,” he said.

“You’d want to see the ship sail.”

“Yes, I did,” I replied.

“Isn’t it amusing that we are taking the trip together?”

“Amusing?”

“I am sure it will be. A delightful coincidence.”

“It has all come about very naturally. Can you call that a coincidence?”

“I can see you are a stickler for the niceties of the English language. You must help me compile my speech.”

“Haven’t you done it yet? My father has been working on his for ages.”

“He’s a professional. Mine will be very different. I shall go on about the mysticism of the East. A sort of Arabian Nights flavour.”

“Don’t forget you will be talking to experts.”

“Oh, I-hope to appeal to a wider audience the imaginative, romantic sort.”

“I am sure you will.”

“I’m so glad we’re sailing together,” he said.

“And now you are no longer a schoolgirl … that is exciting in itself, is it not?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“On the threshold of life … and adventure.”

The sound of a hooter rent the air.

“I think that means we are about to sail. Yes, it does. Adieu, England. Welcome new lands … new sights … new adventures.”

He was laughing. I felt exhilarated and glad because he was with us.

I continued to be so. My parents were made much of by the Captain and certain other travellers. The information that they were going to lecture in Cape Town and Northern America quickly spread and they were regarded with some awe. Lucas was very popular and in great demand. I knew why. He was one of those people who are without inhibitions; when he arrived at a gathering there was immediate laughter and general animation. He had the ability to make everything seem amusing.

He was charming to me, but then he was to everybody. He went through life smoothly and easily, and I imagine getting his own way because of this rare gift of his.

My cabin mate was greatly impressed.

“What a charming man!” she said.

“And you knew him before you came on board. Lucky you!”

“Well, I met him briefly at a dinner party, and then he called to tell us he would be on board.”

“It’s because of your father, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?”

“That he is so friendly.”

“He’s friendly with everyone.”

“He’s very attractive … too attractive,” she added ominously and regarding me speculatively. She was inclined to regard me as a simpleton because I had foolishly told her that I had cut school short to come on this trip. She had left the previous year, so must have been a year or so older than I. I had an idea she was warning me against Lucas. There was no need, I wanted to tell her fiercely; and then I feared I might be too fierce.

She was right in one thing; I was ignorant of the ways of the world.

But the time I spent with Lucas was certainly enjoyable.

During the first days we found a sheltered spot on the deck, for at that time the sea was a little rough and the wind strong. My parents spent a good deal of time in their cabin and I was left free to explore.

This I did with great interest and soon learned my way about the ship.

I found the small cabin restricting, especially as it had to be shared with the rather loquacious and faintly patronizing Mary. I was glad to get out of it as much as possible. I found my top bunk a little stifling. I would wake early and lie there waiting for it to be time to get up.

Then I discovered that I could descend the ladder without waking Mary.

I could slip on a few things and go out on deck. The early morning was exhilarating. I would sit in our sheltered spot and look out over the sea, watching the sunrise. I loved to see the morning sky, sometimes delicately pearl, at others blood red. I would picture figures in the formation of the clouds as they drifted across the sky and listen to the waves swishing against the sides of the ship. It was never quite the same at any other time as it was in the morning.

There was a man in blue overalls who used to swab that part of the deck where I sat each morning. I had struck up an acquaintance with him . if it could be called that. He would come along with his mop and pail, tip out the water and swab away.

At such an hour the deck was almost deserted.

As he approached I said: “Good morning. I came out for a breath of fresh air. It was stifling in the cabin.”