Read So Near So Far Online

Authors: C. Northcote Parkinson

So Near So Far (8 page)

The 16th began as a fine day with a south-westerly wind, the lake looking its best with a gleam of sunshine. The two yachts were level and coming up to the line when Sir Roger fired his gun.
Water Nymph,
to windward, had a slight advantage over the southward run, holding nicely to the wind, but lost ground again after rounding the buoy. The two yachts were almost level off Bowness,
Peggy
slightly ahead at Ecclerig and still further ahead in rounding the Waterhead Buoy. It was about then that the sky darkened and the day seemed suddenly colder. Tim Lowther looked fixedly at the sky and gave it as his opinion that the wind would presently veer to the
north-east. For the next half-hour the breeze was fitful, gusting from different directions and sometimes dying away to nothing. In these conditions Delancey contrived to gain ground and had even, at one time, a very slight advantage. Then the breeze steadied in the north-west and
Peggy
showed her speed with the wind abaft. By Elleray it was evident that the race was lost and Delancey, for one, was willing to admit that
Peggy
was the faster yacht. In the actual approach to the finishing line, however, the wind blew suddenly from the north-east, just as Tim had predicted. Seeing the darkening line on the water and warned by a shout from Tim Lowther, Delancey put the helm over and presented the yacht's stern to the coming gust of wind.
Water Nymph
then came round again on course but Ravenglass pointed excitedly toward
Peggy.
Her jib had carried away as she heeled before the wind. To bend the jib again was a matter of minutes for
Peggy
's experienced crew but the mishap could not have happened at a worse time. There was frantic activity as
Water Nymph
drew ahead and then, after about three minutes,
Peggy
was back in the race and overhauling her opponent. It was all too late, however, for
Water Nymph
was nearly at the finishing line. A gun boomed and the race was over, with
Water Nymph
the winner by a very narrow margin.

At dinner that day Delancey had to confess that the final result was not in doubt.

“There can be no question about it,” he concluded. “The Manx yacht is the faster of the two. We won today by sheer luck and through Lowther's warning me about the coming change of wind direction. It is too much to expect that to happen again.”

“If we were lucky today,” said Ravenglass, the gambler, “we
may well be lucky again tomorrow. It is all, in the end, a matter of luck.”

“And local knowledge,” said Lowther.

“We are to windward of the Manxmen there,” replied Delancey. “Manning might have done better to have local men aboard.”

“But these fishermen from Morecambe are not really local,” objected Lowther. “They may know the ropes but they don't know the lake.”

“And that's true,” said Sir Roger. “Anyway, we have given the people round here something to talk about. I hear, however, that the odds are still in favour of
Peggy.
Manning's seamanship today was good, or so it seemed to me.”

“He did very well indeed,” Delancey concluded. “His only error was in looking towards the finish instead of looking over his shoulder to see the danger that threatened him. He'll not make that mistake again.”

The next day's race was a tame affair in which
Peggy
secured an early lead and never lost it, crossing the finishing line two cables ahead. It was a beautiful day with moderate westerly wind and Delancey enjoyed the sail and loved the scenery. He felt pity, however, for Tim Lowther, who looked more and more distressed as the race came near to its inevitable end. The trouble was that
Water Nymph
had won all the local races for the last six years so that defeat had seemed to him all but impossible. He had placed his bets accordingly and not on the scale appropriate to a younger son. Who would expect to be outsailed by a soldier in a craft brought from the Isle of Man? The third race would decide the match and Tim's finances would be crippled for years to come. The example was not wasted on
Delancey to whom gambling had never been a temptation but who resolved now against ever betting on anything. He had to take chances in battle, venturing other men's lives as well as his own, and this was a fact of his trade. Mere gambling was a pastime for people who had nothing else to do, but passing the time had never been his problem. He came near to it in this sailing match but the whole exercise had a different purpose. It was
Water Nymph
which saved him from making a foolish marriage and gave him the chance of marrying Fiona. She had not accepted him as yet, to be sure, but he hoped and believed that she would.

The third and final race began in what was nearly a dead calm, the lake grey and still, the clouds low and with very occasional gleams of sunshine. The two yachts drifted down the lake with fitful westerly puffs of wind, neither having any considerable advantage but Delancey proving a little quicker in using what wind there was. At a snail's pace they rounded the Town Head buoy with
Water Nymph
just ahead but the wind stiffened on the run north and
Peggy
's superior speed soon became obvious. When they passed the narrows near Bowness,
Peggy
had a steadily increasing lead. Overhead dark rain clouds were gathering by now with ragged edges blotting out the mountains. The water darkened and waves began to dash against the yacht's port beam, the spray passing overhead and the craft gathering speed. The wind rose to a shriek and the yachtsmen could no longer see the shores. The mountains had vanished and so had the rival yacht, there being nothing to be seen but a wild waste of surging waves and drifting mist, nothing to be felt but blinding rain and stinging hail. Suddenly there came a screaming gust of unexpected fury,
Water Nymph
was knocked on her beam ends with masts and sails in the water,
her crew clinging to her rigging as water poured over the starboard gunwale. With the yacht no longer answering to the helm, Delancey could do little except tell the others to bale and prepare to cut away the masts. They were saved the trouble, however, for both masts broke at this point and the yacht slowly righted herself, leaving booms, gaffs, and canvas in the water. Frantic baling followed amidst a further hailstorm and then the storm passed, the wind became a mere breeze, the waves disappeared, and the mist vanished north-west towards the head of the lake. As when the curtain rises at the theatre, the clouds, dispersing, revealed the fells on either side. The scene momentarily sunlit was one of breath-taking beauty but Delancey was not looking at the landscape. His attention was fixed on
Peggy
and he was relieved to see that she also was dismasted but afloat. Both yachts were at a standstill, with much of the course still to sail. Delancey began at once to make a plan. If he could rig some sort of jury mast and set even the jib alone,
Water Nymph
might still reach Waterhead and return to the finishing line. It would take hours to be sure, but it was still possible for him to win the race. He was still thinking furiously along these lines when there came the boom of a gun from the judge's boat, accompanied by a signal which Tim Lowther was able to interpret. “The race is over,” he announced with obvious relief, “and the result is a draw.” Sir Roger's decision was a sensible one for the race, if continued under jury-rig, might not have ended until after dark. It was obvious, at the same time, that Manning had been cheated by ill-luck of a victory which he certainly deserved. As for Ravenglass and Lowther, they had been saved by the Goddess of Gambling to whom their prayers had been directed.

It would have been physically possible to re-rig the two
yachts and stage another race in June but Lowther pleaded technical difficulties and Delancey made it clear that the race, if it took place, would happen without him. He spoke of another engagement and hoped inwardly that it would prove to be more than an excuse. The whole affair ended in friendly fashion, it being generally agreed that
Peggy
was the faster yacht and that Manning was as good a helmsman as his opponent. Delancey himself would have allowed that Manning was the better of the two, having had far more experience with that type of craft. For him, however, the whole affair was over and his only ambition was to reach York without further delay.

Chapter Five
T
HE
“C
HARLOTTE
D
UNDAS

T
HE COACH was approaching the City of York, where the lights were already lit. The rumbling of the coach wheels became louder as the vehicle passed through the city gates and now the coachman was flicking his horses into a final burst of energy so that he could arrive with a flourish. With stables almost in sight, the horses broke into a canter. The guard sounded his horn, some children waved and cried out, and then the coach swung into an inn yard, the horses plunging as the ostlers ran forward to hold them. The journey was over and Delancey told himself that Fiona could not possibly be there to meet the coach. The letter in which he had given the hour of his arrival would not have come in time. In any case, she would be on stage all the evening. He might expect to see her next day, at the earliest. After all, an actress, a leading lady has her work to do, her parts to learn, her rehearsals to attend…. Then, somehow, she was in his arms! Kissing him on the mouth, she cried, “You
shall
marry me!” Kissing her back he asked, “When?” To this she replied, “Soon!” In the inn yard while the coach was emptied of its luggage, while the horses were led away, while other passengers were greeted by their friends, they hugged each other and Fiona shed a few tears even while laughing.

“It seemed so long!” she explained.

”It was an eternity!” he agreed, adding, “You are more beautiful than I remembered.”

“And you look younger,” she replied, “perhaps because you are on holiday.”

“Or perhaps because I am in love.”

“Like you were with Mrs Farren?”

“Like I never was with anyone.”

“Where are you to stay?”

“Here, at the—”

“Shall we have supper here?”

“Of course, but what about the theatre?”

“I took the evening off so as to give my understudy her chance to play the part. She will be one bridesmaid and the theatre, I find, is in the parish of Michael-le-Belfry. How would that do? It was where Guy Fawkes was baptised.”

“And do you think Scarborough might be the place for the honeymoon? I was never there but it seems to be fashionable.”

There was much to discuss and Delancey took Fiona back to her lodging after supper. Saying goodnight to her on the doorstep, which took a surprisingly long time, Delancey confessed he had gone through agonies on the journey, especially over the last few miles. “I half expected to find you betrothed to someone else—to Mr Matthews, for example.”

“He is married, love. But I thought maybe you would worry and decided to accept you at once. I'll confess now that I never had the least idea of marrying anyone else. Well, it would be absurd, wouldn't it? Mr Matthews has promised to give me away and he has a niece who will be the other bridesmaid. I have asked about Scarborough and we can't easily reach there in one day—not, I mean, allowing time for the wedding. We shall have to break the journey in Malton, staying perhaps at
the Green Man in the Market Place. There is a good inn at Scarborough called the Royal but it is more the fashion to take lodgings there in the Crescent.”

“Are the lodgings engaged, my love?”

“No, but I have the address. Why are you laughing, dear?”

“I was laughing at the fears I felt that you would refuse me. While I was worrying about that you were deciding what to wear at the wedding!”

“The dress is not bespoke but I have chosen the cloth…. No, love. I had not the least idea of refusing you! I liked you from the day we met. Who did you think of asking to appear as best man?”

“I hadn't thought about it at all! You are miles ahead of me. But my former First Lieutenant lives in Westmorland, not all that distant, and might make the journey that I have just made. He would come to the aid of an old shipmate, I daresay.”

On his way back to his inn Delancey reflected that an actress needs as much practical ability as a naval officer. She must be as ready for the curtain's rise as any lieutenant must be ready for the morning watch, nor must she fail to cover up when someone else has missed his cue. There could be no doubt about the organisation of the wedding, due not to the bride's parents but to the resourceful bride herself. All went as well as he expected and the eventful day ended, as planned, in the best inn at Malton where Fiona and Richard entered into a relationship which was to be passionate, loving, complete, and permanent.

On the second day, going to bed at an earlier hour than some fellow guests thought was decent, Fiona and Richard had time to talk.

”By rights I should have hired a lady's maid for you.”

“I've no need for one. You found how to undress me quickly enough.”

“But what about dressing?”

“That is not as important. You married a slut.”

“I married an angel!”

“You came nearer to marrying a whore. You are the seventh man to have taken me.”

“As if I cared! Was I the best, though?”

“Far the best, darling. For one thing, you—oh, well, never mind—what really matters is the way you treat me like a goddess.”

“You are a goddess!”

“I'm not even a lady!”

“You are, my dear. I have made you one.”

“How?”

“I am an Esquire by virtue of holding the King's commission. The King's servants address me as Esquire when they write to me. The wife of an Esquire is a gentlewoman.”

“But my position is not quite the same. You have made me a lady, nevertheless—I see that—and I have a part to play from now on. I am Mrs Delancey and you shall see me play it to perfection.”

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