The Emperor (59 page)

Haworth looked indignant. 'How can you suppose such a
thing! Africa, tell your Mama what you think of that idea.'
He leaned over the crib which the ship's carpenter had
made, and which was drawn up close to the bed so that the
doting parents could gaze at the child. Africa, apparently watching the dancing of the sunbeams on the deck planks
above her, blew a few bubbles and waved her fists at the
sound of her father's voice. 'I think she looks like you,
darling,' Haworth said critically.

‘
But she has your eyes,' Mary said. 'And there's some
thing of you about her mouth, too. I think she will be intel
ligent.'

‘
And handsome. She must have the right sort of
governess, who will inform her mind, but also teach her the
accomplishments and the social graces. I want her to be able
to take her place in society -'

‘
As I did?' Mary said with amusement. 'Balls and dinners
and operas and presentation at Court?'

‘
Of course,' he said firmly. 'And eventually a good
marriage - '

‘
Like mine, to the best man in the world, whom she will
love and admire,' Mary concluded.

‘
Oh no, she shan't marry a dull old sea-dog - it must be
an earl at the very least for her.'

‘
Now I understand - you wish I had married Billy
Tonbridge instead of you. Forgive me, Captain Haworth, I
had not realized I was mistaken all this while.’

Haworth smiled at her lovingly. 'You know, Mary,
though I should not admit it, I am so very glad you stayed
with me all this summer. When you were having Hippolyta, I saw nothing of you, and I've seen very little of her. It is a
great privilege and joy to me to have little Africa here, to
see her every day. Sailors can so rarely spend time with their
wives and children. It was shocking of me to allow you to
risk yourself like this -’

Mary lifted his hand to her cheek. 'Allow me? I don't
quite see how you could have prevented me.’

Haworth frowned. 'Why, darling, your cheek is burning.'
He released his hand and felt her brow. 'Your forehead, too.
Are you feverish?'

‘
It's nothing but the heat of the day, that's all,' Mary said.
‘With the sunlight coming in through the stern-lights, it is
hot in here. I feel perfectly all right.’

Haworth did not consider it particularly hot in the cabin,
for there was a fresh breeze ruffling the yellow curtains. 'I
think Daniels had better have a look at you, just in case,' he
said.

‘
Oh no, darling, please don't fuss -' Mary began, but the
door opened at that moment, and Farleigh came in.

‘
I've brought you some lemonade, madam,' she said.
Haworth got up to let the maid past, and having seen how
thirstily Mary drank, he went quietly to the door.

‘
Pass the word for Mr Daniels,' he said to the sentry
outside. When he returned to the bed, Farleigh was taking
the empty glass away, and she met his eyes for a moment as
she passed him with a frown, and a nod of approval.

*

The following morning Mary was definitely feverish, though
she did not otherwise feel ill. Daniels shook his head. 'It may be nothing but overheating, sir.' He met Haworth's eye reluctantly. 'The other possibility — it has to be admitted — ' Haworth's mouth was dry. ‘Childbed fever?'

‘
It's too early to say, yet, sir, Mrs Haworth gave birth in less than ideal circumstances, and there is a possibility that
there is some infection. We must simply wait and see.'

‘But — if it is — ?'

‘
There's no sense in worrying about it, sir, until we see
how things develop.’

Haworth had a rare outburst of temper. 'I asked you a
question, damn it!’

Daniels straightened to attention. ‘Childbed fever is
caused by an infection entering the body at the time of birth,
sir,' he said rigidly. 'Sometimes a strong woman can fight it
off, but it is more usually fatal.’

There was a silence. Haworth's face was white under his
sea-tan. After a while he managed to say, 'Thank you, Mr
Daniels. You may go now. Keep me informed of progress.’

He sat with Mary for most of the day, leaving her only
when the ship's business required him on deck, but with
calm seas and gentle breezes the interruptions were few. She
was so cheerful, and seemed so well apart from the fever,
that he grew cheerful too. It was nothing but overheating
after all, he thought, and he had been worried for nothing.

But towards evening the fever mounted, and Mary began
to feel ill. Her throat was dry, the glands in her neck
swollen, and she felt as though her bones were hurting her.
Daniels examined her again, palpated her abdomen, and
looked grave. After a bad night, he came to report to his
captain in the day-cabin.

‘
I'm
sorry, sir, but I think there is little doubt that it is
puerperal fever. The symptoms are there.' He looked at
Haworth with enormous pity. The captain was seated at his
desk, his eyes ringed with sleeplessness, his hands turning a paperknife with slow restlessness over and over.

‘What happens now?' he asked at last.

‘
There is no treatment, sir. The patient's own constitution
governs the course of the disease. Usually the fever comes
and goes, and the patient grows weaker, until — '

‘Will she live?' he asked abruptly, almost as if he hadn't
heard. Daniels hesitated a long time, wondering what to say.
'The truth, Mr Daniels,' Haworth said, meeting his eyes.
‘That's an order.'

‘
Truly, sir, I don't know. Some women do recover. But
it's — unlikely. I'm sorry, sir.'

‘
No, no need to be sorry. It is my own fault, for bringing her with me. Isn't that right? No, you don't need to answer.
I know. If she had had the child at home, this would not
have happened.'

‘
It happens on shore just the same, sir, even in the best
houses. There's no knowing where it will strike.'

‘
Thank you,' he said, with a faint wry smile. 'Does she
know?'

‘I haven't said anything to her, sir.'

‘
Very well. I will tell her myself. Thank you, Daniels.
You may go now.’

Haworth took a moment to compose himself, and then
went back into the sleeping cabin. Farleigh had been bathing
Mary's face, and withdrew to leave them alone, and he sat
down beside the bed and took up the hot hand from the
sheet where it was lying.

‘How are you feeling now, my love?' he asked.

‘
A little better, I think,' Mary said. They were silent for a while. 'I was just thinking,' she went on, 'about flowers, and
how much I miss them on board. The only thing I really
miss, I think. One can get used to all the other privations.'
Haworth nodded. ‘Dipton told me once about a captain
who grew daffodils in a long box of earth under the stern
windows. It seemed such a good idea.'

‘
There's no reason why we shouldn't do the same,'
Haworth said. 'If we put them in now, we could have
hyacinths for Christmas, and next spring — ' Something odd
seemed to have happened to his voice. He tried to clear his
throat, and Mary met his eyes.

‘What did Daniels say? It's childbed fever, isn't it?’

Haworth could only nod. Mary seemed to be strangely blurred. He turned his head away for a moment to look at
Africa, sleeping beside them. Mary went on speaking.

‘
Don't be afraid, dearest. I'll get well again. I'm very
strong, you know. People do get well, don't they?’

He looked at her, and as their eyes met, a great sob broke out of him. 'Oh my darling!' He slid clumsily from the chair
to kneel beside her, and she put her arms round him and
held him close. 'Oh Mary, my own love. I love you so much.
I couldn't bear to lose you.'

‘
No, no,' she comforted him, stroking his head, tears of
weakness breaking past the barriers. 'You won't lose me.
I'm not going to die. I couldn't bear to leave you either. I'll
get well, I promise. It will be all right.’

Africa woke and began to cry, but for once neither parent noticed Farleigh put her head round the door a
moment later, assess the situation, and tiptoe past her
master and mistress to scoop the baby out of the crib and
take her away.

*

The
Africa
and her sister ships beat up and down the coast
of Egypt in the August sunshine, and almost a holiday
mood prevailed. The officers strolled on deck, leaned
against the taffrail, smoked cigars and chatted; the hands
skylarked on the forecastle, danced hornpipes after dinner,
entered into complex negotiations over their grog-rations,
and pursued their extraordinary hobbies of embroidery,
painting, carving, scrimshaw work, knitting, crochet. The
scrimshaw school was making a series of delicate little
carved figures, which, when finished, they intended to thread
together on a string to stretch across the baby's crib for her
to look at and play with. The whole crew was intensely
proud of 'our baby', and daily bulletins on her health and
progress were demanded of the surgeon's mates.

The news that the Captain's lady was ailing could not be
kept secret in a crowded ship, but all but a few believed it to
be a mild indisposition, for with fine weather, fresh water,
and no danger, it was hard for the men to believe that
anything in the world could be wrong. In the stern cabin
Haworth sat with Mary hour after hour, and they talked
cheerfully together as they had always done, remembering
past happinesses and planning future ones, and never spoke of her illness; but day by day he saw her grow weaker, and
hope quietly died in his heart.

The day came when he found that he was doing all the
talking, and Mary, her fever-bright eyes fixed on him
unwaveringly, could only lie there panting shallowly, listen
ing, but too weak to talk. His line of conversation petered
out, and silence fell between them. What more was there to
say, but the unsayable? It was no use to pretend any more.
They read the truth in each other's eyes.

Haworth lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, and she
smiled faintly.

‘
Dearest George, I've been so happy with you,' she said
at last in a whisper of a voice. 'It's only been too short a
time.'

‘
Oh Mary, my heart, how can I go on without you?' he
asked.

‘You must, for the children.'

‘I don't care about the children — it's you I want.'

‘
But you will, when I'm gone.' He was crying, and it tore
her heart. 'I don't want to leave you,' she said weakly. 'I
don't want to die.' He leaned down to kiss her and lay his
cheek against hers, and his tears wet her face. There was no
comfort either could offer the other.

‘I love you, Mary. I love you so much.'

‘
I love you too.' They were silent a long while; then, 'I
always knew — '

‘Knew what, my darling?’

He felt her lips smiling as she whispered against his
cheek. 'All those earls and dukes I refused. I always knew
I'd find you one day.’

 
Mary died on the fifteenth of August. Throughout the day
she had drifted deeper and deeper into unconsciousness, and the end came quietly at sunset when the tide turned.
‘She died like a sailor,' Dipton told his friend the cook as
they hunched mournfully over their rum.

The whole ship's company was shocked and grieved, and
many of the men cried like children at the service held the
next morning. There was no question of a burial at sea —
even had the Captain wished it, the men would hardly have
permitted it. The body was sealed in a lead-lined coffin to
await the first transport back to England. It was assumed
that Farleigh and the baby would return in the same ship,
but a few days later, Haworth sought out Mary's maid in the
sleeping-cabin, where she was rocking the child, more for
her own comfort than Africa's.