Back to Billabong Part 15

"What is that?" Cecilia queried.

"Oh, a s.h.i.+p with hundreds of women and children--privates' wives and families, as well as officers'. I believe they are rather awful to travel on--they must be terrible in rough weather. The non-family s.h.i.+ps carry only a few officers' wives, as a rule: a much more comfortable arrangement for the lucky few."

"And we are among the lucky few?"

"Yes. I only hope my small boys won't be a nuisance. I've never been without a nurse for them until last night. However, I suppose I'll soon get into their ways."

"You must let me help you," Cecilia said. "I love babies." She stroked Tim's curly head as she spoke: d.i.c.kie, his little brother, had suddenly fallen asleep on his mother's knee.

Mrs. Burton smiled her thanks.

"Well, it is pleasant to think we shan't go on board knowing no one,"

she said. "I hope our cabins are not far apart. Oh, here is my husband; I hope that means all our luggage is safely on board."

Colonel Burton came up--a pleasant soldierly man, bearing the unmistakable stamp of the regular officer. They were still chatting when Bob arrived, to be introduced--a ceremony which appeared hardly necessary in the case of the colonel and himself.

"We've met at intervals since last night in various places where they hide luggage," said the colonel. "I'm beginning to turn faint at the sight of a trunk!"

"It's the trunks I can't get sight of that make me tremble," grinned Bob. "One of mine disappeared mysteriously this morning, and finally, after a breathless hunt, turned up in a lamp-room--your biggest Saratoga, Tommy! Why anyone should have put it in a lamp-room seems to be a conundrum that is going to excite the station for ever. But there it was."

"And have they really started for the s.h.i.+p?" asked Cecilia.

"Well--I saw them all on a lorry, checked over my list with the driver's, and found everything right, and saw him start," said Bob, laughing. "More than that no man may say."

"It would simplify matters if we knew our cabin numbers," said Colonel Burton. "But we don't; neither does anyone, as far as I can gather, since cabins appear to be allotted just as you go on board--a peculiar system. Can you imagine the ghastly heap of miscellaneous luggage that will be dumped on the Nauru, with frenzied owners wildly trying to sort it out!"

"It doesn't bear thinking of," said Bob, laughing. "Come along, Tommy, and we'll explore Liverpool."

They wandered about the crowded streets of the great port, where may, perhaps, be seen a queerer mixture of races than anywhere in England, since s.h.i.+ps from all over the world ceaselesly come and go up and down the Mersey. Then they boarded a tram and journeyed out of the city, among miles of beautiful houses, and, getting down at the terminus, walked briskly for an hour, since it would be long before there would be any land for them to walk on again. They got back to the hotel rather late for lunch, and very hungry; and afterwards it was time to pack up their light luggage and get down to the docks. General Harran had warned them to take enough hand-baggage to last them several nights, since it was quite possible that their cabin trunks would be swept into the baggage room, and fail to turn up for a week after sailing.

A taxi whisked them through streets that became more and more crowded.

The journey was not a long one; they turned down a slope presently, and drew up before a great gate across the end of a pier where two policemen were on duty to prevent the entrance of anyone without a pa.s.s. Porters were there in singular numbers--England had grown quite used to being without them; and Bob had just transferred their luggage to the care of a cheerful lad with a barrow when Cecilia gave a little start of dismay.

"Bob, I've left my watch!"

"Whew!" whistled her brother. "Where?"

"I washed my hands just before I left my room," said the shamefaced Cecilia. "I remember slipping it off my wrist beside the basin."

"Well, there's no need to worry," said Bob cheerfully. "Ten to one it's there still. You'll have to take the taxi and go back for it, Tommy: I can't leave the luggage, and I may be wanted to show our papers, besides; but you won't have any difficulty. Come along, and I'll see that the policeman lets you through when you come back."

The constable was sympathetic. He examined Cecilia's pa.s.sport, declared that he would know her anywhere again, and that she had no cause for anxiety.

"Is it time? Sure, ye'll be tired of waitin' on the ould pier hours afther ye get back," he said cheerfully. "I know thim transports. Why, there's not one of the throops marched in yet. There comes the furrst lot."

A band swung round the turn of the street playing a quickstep: behind it, a long line of Australian soldiers, marching at ease, each man with his pack on his shoulder. A gate with a military sentry swung wide to admit them, and they pa.s.sed on to where a high overhead bridge carried them aboard a great liner moored to the pier.

"'Tis the soldiers have betther treatment than the officers whin it comes to boardin' transports," said the friendly policeman. "They get marched straight on board. The officers and their belongin's has to wait till they've gone through hivin knows what formalities. So you needn't worry, miss, an' take your time. The ould s.h.i.+p'll be there hours yet."

The taxi driver appeared only too glad of further employment, and Cecilia, much cheered, though still considerably ashamed of herself, leaned back comfortably in the cab as they whisked through the streets.

At the hotel good fortune awaited her, for a chambermaid had just found her watch and had brought it to the office for safe keeping. Cecilia left her thanks, with something more substantial, for the girl, and hurried back to the cab.

The streets seemed more thronged than ever, and presently traffic was blocked by a line of marching men--more "diggers" on their way to the transport. Cecilia's chauffeur turned back into a side street, evidently a short cut. Half-way along it the taxi jarred once or twice and came to a standstill.

The chauffeur got out and poked his head into the bonnet, performing mysterious rites, while Cecilia watched him, a little anxiously.

Presently he came round to the door.

"I'm awful sorry, miss," he said respectfully. "The old bus has broke down. I'm afraid I can't get another move out of 'er--I'll 'ave to get 'er towed to a garage."

"Oh!" said Cecilia, jumping out. "Do you think I can find another near here?"

"You oughter pick one up easy in the street up there," said the chauffeur. "Plenty of 'em about 'ere. Even if you shouldn't, miss, you can get a tram down to the docks--any p'liceman 'll direct you. You could walk it, if you liked--you've loads of time." He touched his cap as she paid him. "Very sorry to let you down like this, miss--it ain't my fault. All the taxis in England are just about droppin' to pieces--it'll be a mercy when repair shops get goin' again."

"It doesn't matter," Cecilia said cheerfully. She decided that she would walk; it would be more interesting, and the long wait on the pier would be shortened. She set off happily towards the main street where the tram lines ran, feeling that short cuts were not for strangers in a big city.

Even in the side street the shops were interesting. She came upon a fascinating curio shop, and stopped a moment to look at the queer medley in its window; such a medley as may be seen in any port where sailor-men bring home strange things from far countries. She was so engrossed that she failed to notice a woman who pa.s.sed her, and then, with an astonished stare, turned back. A heavy hand fell on her wrist.

"Cecilia!"

She turned, with a little cry. Mrs. Rainham's face, inflamed with sudden anger, looked into her own. The hard grasp tightened on her wrist.

"What are you doing here, you wicked girl? You've run away."

At the moment no speech was possible to Cecilia. She twisted her arm away fiercely, freeing herself with difficulty, and turning, ran, with her stepmother at her heels. Once, Mrs. Rainham gasped "Police!" after which she required all the breath to keep near the flying girl. The street was quiet; only one or two interested pa.s.sers-by turned to look at the race, and a street urchin shouted: "Go it, red 'ead--she's beatin' yer!"

It follows naturally, when one person pursues another through city streets, that the pursued falls under public suspicion and is liable to be caught and held by any officious person. Cecilia felt this, and her anxiety was keen as she darted round the corner into the next street, looking about wildly for a means of escape. A big van, crawling across the road, held Mrs. Rainham back for a moment, giving her a brief respite.

Just in front of her, a block in the traffic was beginning to move. A taxi was near her. She held up her hand desperately, trying to catch the driver's eye. He shook his head, and she realized that he was already engaged--there was a pile of luggage beside him with big labels, and a familiar name struck her--"H.M.T. Nauru." A girl, leaning from the window of the taxi, met her glance, and Cecilia took a sudden resolve.

She sprang forward, her hand on the door.

"I am a pa.s.senger by the Nauru. Could you take me in your car?" she gasped.

"Why, of course," said the other girl. "Plenty of room, isn't there, dad?"

"Yes, certainly," said the other occupant of the cab--a big, grizzled man, who looked at the new-comer in blank amazement. He had half risen, but there was no time for him to a.s.sist his self-invited guest; she had opened the door and jumped in before his daughter had finished speaking.

Leaning forward, Cecilia saw her stepmother emerge from the traffic, crimson-faced, casting wild and wrathful glances about her. Then her wandering eye fell upon Cecilia, and she began to run forward. Even as she did the chauffeur quickened his pace, and the taxi slid away, until the running, shouting figure was lost to view.

Cecilia sat back with a gasp, and began to laugh helplessly. The others watched her with faces that clearly showed that they began to suspect having entertained a lunatic unawares.

"I do beg your pardon," said Cecilia, recovering. "It was inexcusable.

But I was running away."

"So it seemed," said the big man, in a slow, pleasant voice. "I hope it wasn't from the police?"

"Oh no!" Cecilia flushed. "Only from my stepmother. My own taxi had just broken down, and she found me, and she would have made a scene in the street--and scenes are so vulgar, are they not? When I saw Nauru on your luggage, you seemed to me to have dropped from heaven."

She looked at them, her pretty face pink, her eyes dancing with excitement. There was something appealing about her, in the big childish eyes, and in the well-bred voice with its faint hint of a French accent.

The girl she looked at could hardly have been called pretty--she was slender and long-limbed, with honest grey eyes and a sensitive mouth that seemed always ready to break into smiles. A little smile hovered at its corners now, but her voice held a note of protection.