The Merciless Ladies (16 page)

‘All right. Thank him and say we shall be pleased if he can do that.'

‘I'm not going', said Paul.

‘You must', I said. ‘You don't want that action postponed.'

‘I don't see why
anyone
need go', said Holly. ‘
We
haven't complained, have we?'

‘Your father isn't a young man', I said, ‘and he's had a tiring lecture tour. It was a great idea, but the weather's been against us. And if he goes …'

‘Oh, yes.' Holly took off her glasses to wipe the spray from them. You're right there. I couldn't possibly desert him now.'

‘If one goes we all ought to go', said Paul. ‘But then I don't suppose the brothers Grimshawe …'

‘They couldn't manage it themselves', I said. ‘It wouldn't be fair either. It won't matter about my being a bit late back. Three can manage the cutter in comfort.'

‘Or four', said Paul.

‘Three', I said. ‘With that wrist you'll be a passenger anyhow for another month.'

‘Um', said Paul. ‘What do you think, Sam?'

The man at the wheel did not remove his suspicious eyes from the
John Armitage
, which had drawn away into the gathering dusk and was once more nudging her way into the oncoming seas.

‘She'll have lost us long afore morning.'

IV

Dawn found the horizon bare. Wind and sea had moderated, but still were much against us. We set some sail and decided that a useful compromise between all the conflicting suggestions was to try to make Vigo.

At noon to our surprise we sighted the
John Armitage.
We learned later that she had heaved to during the night and had taken the opportunity of making an engine repair. She had given us plenty of sea room and had fallen well behind.

As soon as the tramp was sighted Paul went into an excess of indecision. I had never known him so irresolute. I told him that the issue was plain: if the master of the
John Armitage
would agree to take anyone off, then he must go. Very well to say that he did not care if the libel action was put down in the lists again; that wasn't true, the thing had been at the back of his mind all summer. I didn't mind being left alone, it would be rather fun.

‘I know, I know', he said. ‘It's all very pretty the way you put it. But I invited you on this trip. What sort of a mouse do you think I am to desert you in mid-Atlantic after a few days' bad weather!'

‘Well, damn it, we're in no
danger
. I should certainly go if I were in your shoes. You ought to know me well enough to be sure I wouldn't say so if I didn't mean it.'

‘Oh, you mean it', he agreed. ‘And thanks for the suggestion. It seems to be a question of my own conscience.'

‘Your own what?'

‘Anyway, don't congratulate yourself on losing me yet. This rusty old tramp will probably consider the sea is still too rough.'

Fifteen minutes later we began to exchange messages with the
John Armitage.
Then we dowsed our headsails and took a few more rolls in the mainsail, leaving just enough to steady her in the swell while under motor. It was strange to feel the beat of the Kelvin engine.

The
John Armitage
signalled again.

Dave shouted: ‘He wants fur us to go in further under his lee before he lowers a boat.'

‘He'll not get me any nearer', shouted Sam, his moustache drooping. ‘If we got in too close he'd knock us to bits. Tell 'im no.'

More semaphoring passed.

‘He'll lower a boat', said Dave.

The big tramp came slightly more into the wind, and we edged round until we could feel some protection from her great iron sides. Two of her davits swung out and a small boat was cautiously launched, one moment relatively steady as she swung from the ropes, the next sweeping up and down by the side of the mother ship. Then she crawled away like a beetle from under a protecting wall and came towards us through the broken water.

Paul went. We said goodbye, Holly and Sir Clement and Paul and I. At the last moment I almost regretted having persuaded them to go; there might be a month of hard sailing ahead, and the change after they had left would be drastic. Sir Clement shook his head at me and took my hand while he clutched his suitcase of papers.

The transfer was an anxious one. Getting into the ship's boat with its crew of seven was the least difficult part. Through the glasses I watched them come under the shadow of the
John Armitage
and thought they were drowned twice in unsuccessful attempts to board her. But at last it was done. I saw three figures standing by the rail of the upper deck aft of the funnel as the
John Armitage
hooted once and slowly turned and began to draw away from us. I took the wheel while the Grimshawe brothers raised sail. Then through flying spray I watched the bulk of the tramp steamer dwindle until it disappeared into the grey heaving patchwork of the distance.

I went below and made an entry in the log. ‘ Mr Stafford, Sir Clement and Miss Lynn left for England. Remaining in
Patience
: Grimshawe, Grimshawe and Grant.'

For the rest of the morning I was below, tidying up the saloon, wandering through the unaccustomed emptiness of the three main cabins, wondering if now, in the ironical way things happen, we'd have fair weather all the way home.

Dave Grimshawe came below, paused, wedged in the door of the saloon to light his pipe.

‘Be wondering what you'll have for your midday meal, Mr Grant. Tin of tongue, maybe?'

I agreed.

‘Thur's a few of them spring onions left. As well t'eat them before the soil goes sour.'

‘Yes', I said. ‘ We'll have those.'

‘Glass has gone down again', he said. ‘Didn't like the green in the sky this morning. Reckon we haven't seen the end of it yet by no means.'

‘Well', I said. ‘ I'm very sorry to lose my friends, but this was the best solution.'

‘Aye. ' Tis just a question of ridin' out this stiff breeze o' wind.'

‘Did you check the rest of the water?'

‘Yes. 'Tis right enough.'

Dave Grimshawe stayed in the doorway drawing at his juicy pipe. He had got on well enough with all those who had left, but their going had unlocked his tongue.

‘That was a queer young lady', he said. ‘ First night we was out she came and stood by me at the wheel. I started telling her about the stars. I felt a fool, fur it turned out she knew more about 'em than me.'

‘She knows a good bit', I said. But, I thought, she doesn't know Bertie's secret of happiness. Very few of us do.

‘She don't make a show of it', said Dave. ‘But she told me one of them stars, Beetle-something in the Hunter, was so big that if you put the earth at its edge the earth wouldn't go round it in three hundred and sixty-five days. I suppose that couldn't be true?'

‘If she told you', I said, ‘it is. They're a great family for telling the truth.'

‘Be they engaged, Mr Stafford and her?'

‘Engaged?' I said in surprise. ‘ Good Lord, no. They only met in Funchal. What makes you ask?'

He shifted and looked round for somewhere to spit, but thought better of it.

‘Oh nothin'. 'Twas just an idle thought.'

‘But something must have made you think it. What was it?'

He stared at me from under bushy eyebrows.

‘Lord, I don't know. I thought from the way I caught them looking at each other now and then that perhaps they was engaged. I say 'twas just a notion. That was all.'

To a man not fond of his own company it might seem obvious that twenty-two days spent beating into head winds in a small cutter in the Atlantic with two taciturn seamen for company would become very tedious. But I hadn't expected that it would be so. I like being on my own. This has long been regarded as a major eccentricity by my friends.

Of course the persistently adverse weather was to blame. The cramped surroundings, the never-ceasing lifting and ducking of the boat, heavy rain, the awareness that we were making painfully slow progress; all these wore down patience and stamina. Of course, I was very disappointed at missing the libel action. The whole thing would be past history and stale news when we reached home.

… I dismissed from my mind Dave Grimshawe's curious assumption about Paul and Holly. Obviously there could be nothing in
that
. The thought recurred, and I wondered how he could have come to make the mistake …

We did not run into Vigo but made the journey direct.

Off the Bishop a fast motor vessel passed so close to us that I could have given them the message I had promised Holly, but at that time we were almost becalmed, and reaching Plymouth might be a matter of one more day or two. So eventually we crept into the Sound one late October evening unheralded and unexpected.

Getting our clearance papers was not a difficult matter, and now that we were at last here I was anxious to go ashore. I parted from the Grimshawes, who both had homes to go to, and made an appointment to meet them again the next morning to see about the arrangements for the winter care of the cutter and such other minor matters as needed the attention of the owner. Then I went off to the Royal and booked a room for the night.

The sensation of being on solid ground again after so long a voyage is a peculiar one. I couldn't get used to the spaciousness of the hotel, to the fact that everything remained in exactly the same place minutes on end, to the absence of the sound of the sea and the thrust of the wind, and the creaks and groans of straining wood. My eyes, unused to
the stability
about them, began to supply movement by some malmechanics of their own. The floor of the dining-room persisted in going up and down before my eyes. I began to feel seasick.

I asked the waiter if he could get me an evening paper. He failed to do this but brought a morning paper instead, and I was able to subdue my dizziness and get abreast of latest developments in the world of affairs.

The miners had gone back at last. Mr Baldwin was predicting an era of industrial peace. Unemployment had reached a new peak. My old friend Mussolini had been making a belligerent speech at the League of Nations. The new football season was in full swing and I didn't know even who had won the cricket championship.

Then I stared at the paper, not quite able to believe my own eyes. A paragraph said:

SOCIETY LIBEL ACTION OPENS TODAY

‘The suit for libel, which the Hon. Mrs Brian Marnsett, daughter of Lord Crantell, is bringing against Mr Paul Stafford, the well-known portrait painter, is due to open today before Mr Justice Freyte and a special jury. Sir Philip Bagshawe, KC, and Mr J. K. Fearborne are appearing for the plaintiff. Mr Raymond Hart, KC, and Mr John C. Starbell are representing Mr Stafford. Mr C. D. A. Cressigny is holding a watching brief for the Ludwig Galleries.'

I looked at the date of the paper, and then went to the reception desk and told them I'd not be requiring my room tonight. A train for London left at 11.30. I went into the writing-room and wrote to David Grimshawe, explaining my reasons for leaving Plymouth without seeing them again and giving them what advice I could for the laying up of the cutter and the disposal of the remaining stores.

I phoned North Road Station and was lucky enough to get a sleeper. Then I went out and tried to get an evening paper for myself, but was only able to buy a
Western Evening Herald
, which didn't mention the libel suit. Then I went back to the hotel and repacked my battered little suitcase.

Time passed, and I caught the night train for London.

II

The libel suit is perhaps the most notorious event in Paul Stafford's life, and it has been variously recounted in his biographies and elsewhere. In retelling it here it didn't seem enough to rely on these or on my own fairly vivid memory, so I have referred constantly for verification to the almost verbatim account which appeared in
The Times.
In those days
The Times
thought nothing of devoting several full pages to the processes of the law, and their reporting was meticulous.

When I reached Paddington, London, like me, was not yet properly awake: even so its noises impinged on my ears and I couldn't get used to them. The air smelt stale and as if everyone else had breathed it first. I took a quick bath, changed into a respectable suit, and decided the office could wait another day. Paul's flat at a quarter to nine, and the woman who came in every morning let me in.

‘Bill!' Paul said, his face lighting up when he saw me. ‘I was getting worried. Why didn't you let me know?'

‘We only reached Plymouth yesterday afternoon. What's this about the lawsuit?'

‘You're just in time. It only began yesterday.'

‘So I saw. What caused the delay?'

‘Some cases before ours took longer than expected. How did you manage after we left?'

I told him. No, I hadn't let Holly know yet. The news of the action had brought me up as quickly as I could make it. What had happened so far?

‘The case for the plaintiff is about half through. But Diana hasn't given evidence yet. Tell me more about the trip. It must have been tedious.'

We talked while he brushed his hair and put on a jacket and waistcoat. He still looked tanned from his holiday and more rested and at ease. About him in this expensive flat were the ceramics he had collected, the pieces of good sculpture, the altogether handsome furnishings of a rich and successful man. The tramp steamer, he said, had deposited the Lynns and himself in Liverpool. He had been down to see the Lynns last week and what a ménage! – and had also seen Holly in Oxford. It was too early to say how the case was going – only the preliminary guns had been fired. Mr Justice Freyte was an odd character, who seemed to like practising his sense of humour on the court. Raymond Hart was able enough. He'd worked his way up, Paul had learnt, from a poverty hardly less complete than his own, so that at least established a bond.