01 The Building of Jalna by Mazo de La Roche Page B

accord that it was pity the whole world could not see — but it was well for her that Philip did not. She was transported by the joy of movement but she kept her eyes on the cloud that hid the moon and, when its edge was silvered, she struck her partner on the breast and whispered — “Let me go, ye devil!”
    As the moon cast its radiance on the deck she stood tall and slim by Sholto’s side. She saw then that Conway and Mary had been dancing.
    He grinned and said — “Now I’ve got something to hold over your head, Sis. Don’t you go telling tails on me.”
    A bell sounded and all had to leave the ship.
    The next day a period of fog and drizzle set in. There was no more dancing on the deck. The days moved heavily. The Captain had promised that repairs should be complete in ten days but it was two weeks before they were ready to sail. There was a strange and rather sombre excitement in this second setting forth. The passengers were now so well aware of the evils which might befall them. Their faith in the worthiness of the ship had been shaken. Ofcourse any ship might spring a leak and Captain Bradley declared that the
Alanna
was now as sound as a nut.
    They went to church on the Sunday before sailing. Adeline, Philip, Mr. Wilmott, and Mrs. Cameron to the Gothic Abbey church were the beautiful groined arches of the roof, the sculptured bosses, were obliterated under coat after coat of whitewash, and where the congregation was scattered. The Irishmen, D’Arcy and Brent, returned from the Catholic Chapel and told how they were not able to get inside the building for the Mass but had to kneel in the churchyard with the overflowing crowd. Conway, Sholto, and Mary wandered along the shore. They had begged to be excused from church and Mrs. Cameron would deny her daughter nothing. Also she had heard of an epidemic of fever going about in the town and surely Mary would be safer on the shore with two boys to look after her.
    The hour of sailing came and down the cobbled street moved all the conglomeration of objects that had been removed from the ship. The luggage came bumping and rattling over the stones. The lievestock was harried, driven, and prodded toward its quarters — all but the little goat, Maggie, who trotted on as gaily as she had trotted off. The ayah looked less fragile after her weeks on land but she wore an expression of foreboding as she glided on to the ship holding the baby close. Gussie, in her turn, clutched her wax doll in its silk crinoline and bonnet. The doll was large, a load of Gussie’s tiny arms, so, as the ayah stood with her in the stern and gazed at the churning of the water as the ship moved away from the pier, Gussie leaned forward and let the doll fall overboard. She looked around slyly at the ayah’s face. “Gone,” she remarked, and it was the first word she had spoken.
    For an instant the pink face smirked up at them out of the foam, the crinoline was inflated, then there was nothing. The ayah broke into a storm of Hindu reproaches. She hissed these at Gussie in a terrifying way and shook her but Gussie knew the ayah was her slave.
    The sun came out brilliantly, gilding these last moments of departure. The hurry and scurry were over. All was neat and shining. The decks were clean. The brass of the railings and theofficers’ buttons gleamed. The sails took in a little of the breeze as though testing its quality, then received it in its fullness and spread themselves white and rounded before the masts. Now there was no dreadful listing of the deck, only a tremulous, happy quiver ran across it as the
Alanna
rose and dipped on the small waves.
    Philip and Adeline stood with fingers locked looking back at the land. The town, the mountains of Clare, the movement of figures in the foreground, were still so clear — like a painted picture before them. They could see a tall woman driving a pig into the sea. She had tied a string to its hind leg. She had tucked up her skirts and waded in