Читать книгу The Unlit Lamp - Radclyffe Hall - Страница 15

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Through the blazing sunshine of the afternoon, Joan and Milly toiled up the hill that led to Glory Point. Now, however, they did not wilt, their eyes were bright with expectation, and they quickened their steps as the gate came in sight. They pushed it open and walked down the pebbled path.

'It's all white!' Joan exclaimed. She looked at the round white stones with the white posts on either side and then at the white door. They rang; the fierce sun was producing little sham flames on the brass bell-pull and knocker. The door was opened by a manservant in white drill and beyond him the walls of the hall showed white. 'More white', thought Joan. 'It's like--it looks--is honest the word? No, truthful.'

They were shown into a very happy room, all bright chintz and mahogany. In one of the little round windows a Hartz Mountain Roller ruffled the feathers on his throat as he trilled. The admiral came forward to meet them, shaking hands gravely as if they were grown up. He, too, was in white, and his eyes looked absurdly blue. Joan thought he matched the Delft plates on the mantlepiece at his back.

'This is capital; I'm so glad you could come.' He seemed to be genuinely pleased to see them. They waited for him to speak again, their eyes astray for objects of interest.

'This is my after-cabin', said the admiral, smiling. 'What do you think of it?'

'It's the drawing-room', said Milly promptly. Joan kicked her. 'We call it a cabin on a ship', corrected the admiral.

'Oh, I see', said Milly. 'But this isn't a ship!'

'It's the only ship I've got now', he laughed.

Joan thought: 'I wish she wouldn't behave like this, what can it matter what he calls the room? I wish Milly were shy!'

But Milly, quite unconscious of having transgressed, went up and nestled beside him. He put his arm round her and patted her shoulder. 'It's a very nice ship', she conceded.

Above the mantlepiece hung an oval portrait of a girl. Joan liked her pleasant, honest eyes, blue like the admiral's, only larger; her face looked wide open like a hedge rose.

Joan had to ask. She thought, 'It's cheek, I suppose, but I do want to know.' Aloud she said: 'Please, who is that?'

The admiral followed the direction of her gaze. 'Olivia', he answered, in a voice that took it for granted that he had no need to say more. 'Olivia?'

'My wife.'

'Oh!' breathed Joan, feeling horribly embarrassed. She wished that she had not asked. Poor admiral, people said that he had loved her a great deal!

'Where is she?' inquired Milly.

Joan thought: 'Of all the idiotic questions! Has she forgotten that he's a widower?' She was on tenterhooks.

The admiral gave a little sigh. 'She died a long time ago', he said, and stared fixedly at the portrait.

Joan pulled Milly round. 'Oh, look, what a pet of a canary!' she said foolishly. She and Milly went over to the cage; the bird hopped twice and put his head on one side. He examined them out of one black bead.

The admiral came up behind them. 'That's Julius Caesar', he volunteered.

Joan turned with relief; he was smiling. He opened the door of the cage and thrust in a finger, whistling softly; the canary bobbed, then it jumped on to the back of his hand, ignoring the finger. Very slowly and gently he withdrew his hand and lifted the bird up to his face. It put its beak between his lips and kissed him, then its mood changed and it nipped his thumb. He laughed, and replaced it in the cage.

'Shall we go over the ship?' he inquired.

The children agreed eagerly. He stalked along in front of them, hands in jacket pockets. He took them into the neat dining-room, opening and shutting the port-holes to show how they worked, then into the smoking-room, large, long, and book-lined with the volumes of his naval library. Then up the rubber-covered stairs and along the narrow white passage with small doors in a row on either side. A man in more white drill was polishing the brass handles, there was the clean acrid smell of brass polish; Joan wondered if they polished brass all day at Glory Point, this was such a queer time to be doing it, at four in the afternoon. The admiral threw open one of the doors while the children peered over his shoulder.

'This is my sleeping cabin', he said contentedly.

The little room was neat as a new pin; through the open port-holes came the sound and smell of the sea--thud, splash, thud, splash, and the mournful tolling of a bell buoy. The admiral's bunk was narrow and white, Joan thought that it looked too small for a man, like the bed of a little child, with its high polished mahogany side. Above it the port-hole stood wide open--thud, splash, there was the sea again; the sound came with rythmical precision at short intervals. Milly had found the washstand, it was an entrancing washstand! There was a stationary basin cased in mahogany with fascinating buttons that you pressed against to make the water flow; Milly had never seen buttons like this before, all the taps at Leaside turned on in a most uninteresting way. Above the washstand was a rack for the water bottle and glass, and the bottle and glass had each its own hole into which it fitted with the neatest precision. The walls of the cabin were white like all the others in this house of surprises, white and glossy. Thud, splash, thud, splash, and a sudden whiff of seaweed that came in with a breath of air.

Joan thought, 'Oh it is a truthful house, it would never deceive you!' Aloud she said, 'I like it!'

The admiral beamed. 'So do I', he agreed.

'I like it all', said Joan, 'the noises and the smell and the whiteness. I wish we lived in a ship-house like this, it's so reassuring.'

'Reassuring?' he queried; he didn't understand what she meant, he thought her a queer old-fashioned child, but his heart went out to her.

'Yes, reassuring; safe you know; you could trust it; I mean, it wouldn't be untruthful.'

'Oh, I see', he laughed. 'I built it', he told her with a touch of pride; 'it was entirely my own idea. The people round here think I'm a little mad, I believe; they call me "Commodore Trunnion"; but then, dear me, everyone's a little mad on one subject or another--I'm mad on the sea. Listen, Miss Joan! Isn't that fine music? I lie here and listen to it every night, it's almost as good as being on it!'

Milly interrupted. 'Tell us about your battles!' she pleaded. 'My what?' said the admiral, taken aback.

'The ones you fought in', said Milly coaxingly.

'Bless the child! I've never been in a battle in my life; what battles. have there been in my time, I'd like to know!'

Milly looked crestfallen. 'But you were on a battleship', she protested.

The admiral opened his mouth and guffawed. 'God bless my soul, what's that got to do with it?'

They had made their way downstairs again now and were walking towards the garden door. Milly clung to her point.

'It ought to have something to do with it, I should suppose', she said rather pompously.

The admiral looked suddenly grave. 'It will, some day', he said. 'When will it be?' asked Joan; she felt interested.

'When the great war comes', he replied; 'though God grant it won't be in your time.'

No one spoke for a minute; the children felt subdued, a little cloud seemed to have descended among them. Then the admiral cheered up, and quickened his steps. 'Tea!' he remarked briskly.