"Oh, but you'll get on!" interposed his aunt eagerly. "They all do out there, and you who are so well educated and gentlemanly will soon be drawing high pay, and keeping dozens of black servants, and a motor--and you know poor Cossie is _so_ fond of you."

"I am truly sorry to hear you say so; I cannot imagine _why_ she should be fond of me; or why, quite lately, she has got this preposterous idea into her head. Naturally it is a delicate subject to discuss with you, Aunt Emma; but I declare on my honour that I have never thought of Cossie but just as a jolly sort of girl and a cousin."

"But you have given her presents, my darling boy; yes, and written to her," urged the poor lady, clinging to the last straw.

"I have given her chocolates, and a couple of pairs of gloves, and answered her notes; and if Cossie imagines that every man who gives her chocolates, and answers notes about tea and tennis, is seriously in love with her, she must be incredibly foolish. Cossie knows in her heart that I have never cast her a thought, except as a relation; and, as a matter of fact, of the two girls I like Delia the best! I don't want to say unpleasant things when I'm on the point of going away--probably for years. I hoped to have spent a jolly long day among you, but from what you have just told me I really could not face it, and I must ask you to say good-bye to my cousins for me. I will write to you, Aunt Emma, as soon as I get out to Rangoon. You have always been very kind, and made me feel at home here; you may be sure I won't forget it." And he stooped down suddenly and gave her a hearty kiss.

Then before the poor stout lady could struggle out of the cavity which her weight had made in the Chesterfield Douglas had departed. She heard the close of the hall door, immediately followed by the click of the garden gate. Yes, he was _gone_! And Cossie, who all the time had been listening on the top of the stairs, instantly descended like a wolf on the fold. She would have run out bareheaded after Douglas, but that her more prudent sister actually restrained her by violent physical force; and then, what a scene she made! Oh, what recriminations and angry speeches and reproaches she showered upon her unhappy parent!

"You told me to sound him about an engagement, and I did. Oh, but it was a hateful job, and here's my thanks!" whimpered Mrs. Larcher. "He looked awfully white and stern, and said he only likes you as a cousin, and that he had no intention of anything--and I believe him. It was only in the last two months, since Freddy Soames broke it off, that you've gone out of your way to hang on to Douglas. I'm sure I wish there had been something in it--he's a dear good boy, and I could love him like a son," and the poor lady sobbed aloud.

"You bungled the whole thing, of course!" cried her ungrateful offspring, "I might have known you would put your foot in it; you've let him slip through your fingers and just ruined my last chance. Oh, if I'd only talked to him myself, I'd have been on my way to Burma in six months!"

Then Cossie broke down, buried her head in a musty cushion, and wept sore.

However, after a little time, the broken-hearted damsel recovered; her feelings were elastic, and she allowed herself to be revived with a stiff whisky and soda and a De Reske cigarette. On the following day she had so far recovered as to be able to make a careful toilet and walk out, to call upon her two most intimate pals, in order to inform them--in the very strictest confidence--that she was engaged to her cousin, Douglas Shafto, who had just got a splendid appointment in Burma and would come home in two years! Then she added impressively, "I don't want this given out--mother would be _furious_; but the first time you come across him I don't mind if you whisper the news to Freddy Soames."

Cossie sent her cousin a heart-broken letter of farewell, full of underlined words and vague expressions of despair--a portion of which she had copied from a dramatic love scene in a novel. She implored him to write to her, and remained "his devoted till death, Cossie."

Shafto thrust his devoted-till-death Cossie's letter into the waste-paper basket, with a gesture of excommunication, and barred the doors of his memory upon her round fat face.

Preparations for departure proceeded satisfactorily. He received a number of good wishes and not a few gifts. The Tremenheeres sent him an express rifle, the Tebbs a dispatch box, Mrs. Malone gave him a silver cigarette case and a warm rug, Mrs. Galli gave him her blessing, and his mother gave him advice.

On the appointed day a band of friends travelled down to Tilbury to take leave of Douglas Shafto. These included Mrs. Malone, Mr. Hutton, the two j.a.panese gentlemen, and several of his fellow clerks.--Mrs.

Shafto had excused herself, declaring that "her feelings would not endure the strain of a public leave-taking."--Shortly before the _Blankshire_ (Bibby Line) sailed, Sandy--alas! accompanied by Cossie--hurried down the gangway (for Cossie was allied to the stamp of the British soldier, who never knows when he is beaten and entirely refuses to accept defeat!). She wore her best hat--a conspicuous affair with enormous green wings--a somewhat murky white fur, and carried a presentation bunch of wilted flowers. The new arrival, chattering like a magpie, took immediate possession of her cousin, s.n.a.t.c.hed her away from poor Mrs. Malone, who was looking very old and sad, and insisted on inspecting his cabin and as much as was possible of the ship. When the bell rang and the moment of parting arrived, she burst into wild unrestrained sobs, and clung, in the best melodramatic style, to her unresisting kinsman, who was compelled to accept her kisses and tears. In fact, as her brother rudely stated, "she made a shameless show of herself, s...o...b..ring over Douglas before all the pa.s.sengers, and he was sorry for the poor chap, who was covered with blushes; and not for her at all--as anyone could see with half an eye!"

However, Cossie returned home by the Underground, fortified with the conviction that the party who had witnessed her farewell were bound to realise that Douglas Shafto was her affianced lover.

The last signal Shafto received, ere the group of friends had dissolved into a blur, was a frantic waving of Cossie's damp handkerchief, and he turned his face towards the bows of the _Blankshire_, now heading down the river, with the happy exaltation of freedom and a grateful sense of escape.

CHAPTER IX

THE "BLANKSHIRE"

The _Blankshire_ was a full and well-known ship. Not a few of the pa.s.sengers had made several trips in her and some, as they met in saloon and corridors, exchanged loud hearty greetings and hailed one another as old friends. These were chiefly planters and officials from Ceylon, Southern India and Burma, who herded in parties both at meals and on deck.

It was not to be expected that Shafto would see one familiar face, and he felt completely "out of it," as he took a scat at a draughty table between two elderly people, whose interest was entirely concentrated upon their meals and the weather.

The second day proved rough and wet and the smoking-room was crowded.

Here Shafto made an acquaintance with a well-set-up, weather-beaten young man, his neighbour. Finding they had similar tastes with regard to cigars and boots, they proceeded to cement an acquaintance. Hoskins was the name of Shafto's companion, and after half an hour's lively talk, he exclaimed:

"I say, look here, we must dig you out of 'the Potter's Field,' and bring you to our table."

"What do you mean by 'the Potter's Field'?"

"Why, to bury strangers in! We bury dull folk and such-like in the table near the door; but I'll speak to the head steward and get you moved."

And before the next meal Shafto's transition was an accomplished fact, and he found himself one of a merry and congenial circle. In his novel and detached position he realised a sense of independence; he was breathing a new existence, an exhilarating atmosphere, and enjoying every hour of the day.

At table and in the smoke-room he picked up a certain amount of useful information respecting Burma, listened to many a "Don't" with polite attention, and was offered the address of a fairly good chummery in Rangoon. As he could play bridge without letting down his partners, was active at deck sports, and invariably cheery and obliging, he soon gained that effervescent prize, "board-ship popularity."

Here was a different fellow from Douglas Shafto of "Malahide." He seemed to have cast off a load of care; the cramped, monotonous life, his mother's hard indifference, the octopus-like Cossie, all had slipped from his shoulders and were figuratively buried in the heaving, dark blue sea.

What delicious hours of tranquil ease were enjoyed in a steamer chair; hours when he looked on the past five years as a distant and fading dream!

As he paced the deck with a companion he learnt many strange things. Odd bits of half-told stories, confidences respecting some girl, or some ambition--and now and then a warning.

"You are so new and green to the East," said Hoskins, his first friend, a police officer returning from short leave. "You had better keep your eyes skinned! Rangoon is not like India, but a roaring busy seaport, where every soul is on the make. You will find various elements there, besides British and Burmese. Tribes from Upper Burma, Tibetans, Hindoos, Malays, Chinese and, above all, Germans. They do an enormous trade, and have many substantial firms and houses, and put through as much business as, or more than, we do ourselves. No job is too small, no order too insignificant for their prompt attention. They have agents all over the country, who pull strings in wolfram and the ruby mines, and have a finger in every mortal thing. I'll say this for them, they're most awfully keen and industrious, and stick at nothing to earn the nimble rupee, underselling when they can, and grabbing contracts and trade secrets. Some of these days they will mine us out of Burma!"

"So I see they needn't go to you for a character," remarked Shafto.

"Oh, they are not all tarred with the same brush! I have some good pals in the German Club--fellows that are as straight as a die. Is this your first journey out of England?"

"Yes, bar winter sports in Switzerland, when I was a kid."

"Well, you will see a small bit of the world this trip; as soon as we collect the pa.s.sengers at Ma.r.s.eilles, and once the awnings and the moon are up, things will begin to hum!"

"How do you mean hum?"

"We shall have sports, dances, concerts--this has always been a gay ship, and the purser is a rare hustler. We are due at Ma.r.s.eilles to-morrow morning, and we take in a cargo of the lazy luxurious folk who abhor 'the Bay,' and have travelled overland. I'd have done the same, only I'm frightfully hard up; three months at home, having a 'good time,' comes pretty expensive!"

"I hope you will be a fixture in Rangoon?"

"I'm afraid not; I'm going straight up to Mandalay, but I shall be down later, and meanwhile I'll do my best to settle you in that chummery.

I'll send a line to FitzGerald of my service; he lives there; a rattling Irishman, with lots of brains in his handsome head, and a good sort; there's also Roscoe, a clever oddity, and MacNab of the Irrawaddy Flotilla--a wonderful golfer. Most of the fellows in business in Rangoon are Scotch. Murray was in the same chummery; there were four chums till May."

"And Number Four has gone home?"

"He has--to his long home, worse luck; he broke his neck fooling over a log jump."

On this fresh October morning the _Blankshire_ lay moored at her usual berth in Ma.r.s.eilles harbour, and the overland pa.s.sengers were streaming aboard in great numbers.

Hoskins and Shafto, leaning over the bulwarks, watched the long procession of travellers, followed by porters, bearing their light baggage.

"There are a good few, you see," remarked Hoskins; "this is a popular ship and date. We won't have an empty berth--anyway as far as the Ca.n.a.l.

Most of this crowd," waving a hand, "these with maids and valets, are bound for Egypt; there will be a big contingent for Colombo and Southern India. I'm a bit curious to see our own little lot.--Ah! here comes one of them!"

He indicated a stout imposing person, who was majestically ascending the gangway.

"That's Lady Puffle, the consort of one of our big wigs; very official and dignified, keeps old Fluffy in grand order. The next, the tall handsome woman, is Mrs. Pomeroy, wife of the Judicial Commissioner, a real lady, and--hullo! she has brought out a daughter! Not, as far as I can see, up to her mother's sample; too much nose and too much bone. And next, we have Mrs. Flint, of Flint and Co., a big house. She gives the best dinners in Rangoon. The little fair lady with the small dog is Mrs.

Maitland, wife of the General Commanding in Burma, and the one with her must be her sister, or sister-in-law. Here comes the great Otto Bernhard, junior partner in the house of Bernhard Brothers; as you see, a fine, handsome man, with the most All Highest moustache; and also owns a heavenly tenor voice--but I would not trust him farther than I could throw him!"

"And that would not be far," said Shafto; "he weighs every ounce of fourteen stone."

"Yes, a big man in every way, trades on his voice and his good looks, as well as in teak and paddy--an unscrupulous devil where women are concerned; the lady he is escorting is Mrs. Lacy; you would not think to look at her, so slim, gracious and smiling, that she is a noted man-eater."

"What do you mean?"