CHAPTER V.
BREAKERS AHEAD.
GODFREY HARLAND did not go home that night. He was contemplating the commission of a crime, and he felt little remorse upon the subject, but he dreaded the questioning of his wife as to where he had been and what he had been doing. Iris was a timid and long-suffering woman, but she had an unpleasant habit of looking one straight in the eyes whilst she waited for an answer, which made it most difficult to tell her a good lie, and stick to it. So the less he saw of her whilst he remained in England, he thought, the better, and he had already concocted an excuse for pretending to go into the country. He put up for the night at one of his low haunts, and despatched a dirty messenger for his clothes in the morning. As (punctual to his appointment) he walked up to the shipping office to meet his employer, he saw, already standing before it the handsome barouche with its thoroughbred bay steppers, that seemed like an earnest of his own future success. As he entered the office, which was crowded with clerks, messengers, seamen, and passengers, Mr Vansittart came forward and shook him warmly by the hand.
‘Punctual to a minute,’ he said, smiling; ‘that’s the proper way to do business. I see that you and me will get on first-rate together.’
The welcome raised Harland’s spirits, and drove away sundry fears and qualms that had been lurking in his heart. Surely the grim Fates were on his side at last. His luck had turned, and the wheels of life, greased by prosperity, would revolve smoothly for the future. He answered his friend’s greeting with a light laugh, and a debonnair air, that made him appear more charming than ever.
Mr Vansittart went to business at once, and in a few minutes a first-class passenger ticket for the Pandora was made out, signed, paid for, and safely deposited in Mr Harland’s pocket-book. He had played and won. London and its dark associations seemed to be already fading from his view, and New Zealand and a free life, unburdened by cares or encumbrances, was spreading out before him.
‘And now, my boy! Can I set you down anywhere?’ asked Mr Vansittart. ‘I am bound to call at my bankers, but I will drive you to your destination first if you desire it.’
Harland would greatly have liked to show himself by the side of the millionaire in his splendid equipage, but he knew it would be safer not to do so, and so he declined the offer. He had his private reasons for wishing to keep quiet until he was safely out of England. If some of his friends got wind of his being hand and glove with a wealthy man, it might be all up with his dream of enfranchisement. So he professed to have business in another direction.
‘Thanks, Mr Vansittart, but I am running down to Portsmouth to-day about that little yacht of mine, and have promised to wait here for a friend. Don’t let me detain you. When would you wish to see me again?’
‘When will you be back in town?’
‘To-morrow, at latest.’
‘Come up and dine with us then, at seven, and we will discuss the arrangements for the voyage—we have not too much time. In ten days more we shall be upon the sea.’
‘Thank God!’ ejaculated Harland, as the carriage drove away. He waited about for a minute or two, to make sure Mr Vansittart would not return, and then prepared to slink off in an opposite direction. But as he passed through the swinging door of the office into the street, he came face to face with a man, who recognised him without ceremony.
‘Hallo! Cain,’ he exclaimed loudly. ‘Who the d—l would have expected to see you here? I thought you were in America.’
The speaker was a fine stalwart young fellow, but evidently of a much lower standing than Godfrey Harland. The latter was taken completely by surprise, but had the presence of mind to draw himself up stiffly, and say,—
‘I beg your pardon, sir. I have not the pleasure of knowing you,’ and with that he essayed to pass out. But the new-comer was not to be put off so easily.
‘Not know me!’ he repeated. ‘Where are your eyes. I should have known you five miles off. My name is William Farrell. Have you forgotten old Starling, and the row there was in the office when you left?’
‘I repeat that I have not the honour of your acquaintance,’ rejoined Harland, reddening, however, to the brows. ‘Nor do I know to what you refer. It is a case of mistaken identity, sir, and as I am in a hurry, perhaps you will kindly let me pass on.’
But Will Farrell planted himself right in the doorway.
‘No! I’ll be d—d if I will—not until you have told me the truth. If you have forgotten me, I remember you well enough, ‘Mr Horace Cain.’
‘For God’s sake, hold your tongue, man,’ cried Godfrey, thrown off his guard; ‘or come with me where we can talk in privacy.’
‘Ah! I thought that would freshen your memory,’ said the other, with a harsh laugh.
Harland did not know at first what to do. He had recognised this man at once as a former companion at the desk, and his turning up at this inopportune moment might prove the most unlucky move in the world. At all risks he must be conciliated, and kept quiet.
But Harland felt less ready with a lie than usual. He, who was seldom without one at the tip of his tongue, was cowed and nervous by Farrell’s allusion to the past, and could hardly decide what to do, or say. But in another moment his natural aptitude for deceit had returned to him.
‘Of course, I remember you now, Farrell, though I must confess that at first your face did not seem familiar to me. It is some years since we met, and you have changed, as doubtless I have, too.’
‘It is to be hoped so,’ interrupted Farrell, with an unpleasant sneer.
‘But I am always glad to meet an old acquaintance,’ continued Godfrey, ignoring the interruption. ‘I shall be pleased to have a talk with you over old times There is a little place near here where they know me. Will you walk round and have something to drink?’
But the bait did not seem to take.
‘I don’t drink so early in the morning,’ replied Farrell; ‘besides, I have business here.’
‘What is your business?’
‘Well, I don’t know that it concerns you, but I have nothing to conceal. I am going out to New Zealand in the Pandora, on the 24th.’
‘The devil, you are!’ cried Godfrey. ‘Why, we shall be fellow-passengers.’
‘How’s that? Do you sail in her too? Is the country getting too hot for you again?’ asked Farrell.
‘Not at all,’ replied Harland, with assumed dignity. ‘I have come into some money, and am travelling with friends for my own pleasure.’
‘Indeed! Swells, I suppose. What class do you go?’
‘First, of course.’
‘Well, I go second, of course, as I pay for myself, so we shall not see much of each other, thank goodness! on the voyage.’
‘That will not be my fault,’ said Godfrey, blandly, still nervously bent on his efforts at conciliation.
‘But it will be mine if we do,’ returned Farrell, fiercely. ‘Look you here, Horace Cain, I can see through your soft words plain enough. You’re afraid of me, as you’ve got good cause to be, and it would have been all the better for you if you’d told the truth when you first met me, and not tried to sneak out of it by a lie.’
‘Do you threaten me, fellow?’ exclaimed Harland, forgetting his prudence in his anger. ‘I’ll soon teach you the difference between us.’
‘I don’t need any teaching to see the difference between an honest man and a forger,’ retorted Farrell.
‘How dare you?’ cried Godfrey, white with rage.
‘Won’t I dare?’ replied Farrell, with an insolent laugh. ‘Just you cross my path, Mr —— Mr ——’.
‘Godfrey Harland, if you please,’ interposed the other, haughtily.
‘Oh! that’s the new name, is it?’ continued Farrell. ‘A very pretty one too. Just like a novel. Well, it was about time you dropped the other, Horace Cain.’
‘Oh, cease this cursed nonsense,’ cried Harland. ‘I don’t want to quarrel with you. Why should you quarrel with me? If any suspicion fell upon you for acts for which I was responsible, it wasn’t my fault. And it’s all past and over now. Come, man, don’t be sulky. Let us go and drown the remembrance of it in a B. and S.’
But Will Farrell hung backwards.
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said. ‘It’s folly to quarrel over it at this time of the day, but I can’t drink at your expense all the same. The business you speak of so lightly spoiled my life and made me reckless. That mayn’t seem much to you, but it’s everything to me. And I hope, if you come across me on the voyage, that you won’t speak to me, Mr—Mr Harland.’
‘We are not very likely to come across one another,’ replied Godfrey grandly. ‘I don’t think the second-class passengers are allowed beyond the quarter-deck. And therefore you need not disquiet yourself on that score.’
‘All the better for me,’ quoth Farrell, surlily, as he pushed past him to enter the shipping office.
Godfrey Harland, as he strolled away and thought over the interview, felt very uncomfortable about it. It was an unlucky star that had placed Will Farrell, of all men in the world, on board the Pandora, with himself. If he had only had the good fortune to sail before or after him, he need never have known he was in the same country. He was almost tempted to get up some illness on the part of himself or a near relation as an excuse to change his ticket and follow the Vansittarts by another vessel. But England was becoming dangerous ground for him. The delay of a fortnight might render him unable to leave it at all. He stood between two fires. He saw his creditors pressing on him on one side, and Will Farrell denouncing his past character on the other, and he decided that Farrell was the least dangerous enemy of the two. He had not the same motive for betraying him. He would gain nothing himself by raking up the old scandal, and to hold his tongue might prove a benefit to him. Harland would occupy a good position in the new country, and be able to help Farrell on. The man would see that when he sat down to reason calmly. And so he determined to think as little of the unpleasant contretemps as he might. Yet it haunted him throughout the day, and made his future look far less bright than it had done. He was bound to encounter his wife, too, that evening, and he wished the ordeal was over. He had an excellent story to tell her, but it required a large amount of Dutch courage to go through with it. So that Godfrey Harland had drank a great deal more than was good for him when he stumbled up the steps of his own house that evening.