The Karma of Love (Bantam Series No. 14) (8 page)

“I am very worried.”

“Worried?” Orissa asked. “Why?”

“My wife is not well. She had many pains all last night and today.”

“Has she seen a doctor?”

Mr. Mahla shook his head.

“No. She will not do so. You understand, my wife does not understand English ways. She could not be examined by a man or even speak to one about her ailments.”

“I understand, of course I understand,” Orissa replied, knowing that such a thing would shock a Hindu woman and offend her modesty.

“I do not know what to do!” Mr. Mahla said. “My wife cries all the time. The pain is very bad.”

“I expect she has eaten something that disagrees with her,” Orissa replied. “Would you like me to visit her?”

“It is very kind of you to suggest it, but it is not possible for a lady in your position to come down to the Third Class Deck.”

“But of course I can,” Orissa answered. “Tell me again exactly what your wife is feeling.”

Mr. Mahla explained to Orissa his wife’s symptoms in some detail, and she was quite certain that the trouble was strange food combined with a touch of fever which was very prevalent in the heat of the Red Sea.

“I will tell you what I will do,” Orissa said. “I will speak to the Ship’s Doctor and get some medicine from him which will at least alleviate your wife’s pain. We will then go down and see her and afterwards we can come back here again to have our lesson.”

“It is very kind, very gracious of you,” Mr. Mahla exclaimed. “But I do not like to impose on your good nature.”

‘It is no imposition,” Orissa smiled. “Just wait here while I go and find the doctor.”

She found Dr. Thompson in his surgery.

Usually at this time he was in the Saloon, but apparently one of the passengers had cut his thumb on a broken glass and the doctor was bandaging it.

“I will not be a minute, Mrs. Lane,” he said cheerfully when he saw Orissa.

She already knew Dr. Thompson because Lady
Critchley had insisted on his examining Neil after the child had been so sea-sick passing through the Bay of Biscay.

Orissa had decided that he was neither a clever nor an ambitious man. But he was a good mixer and because he liked both comfort and the company of other people, he was quite content with his position as Ship’s Doctor.

The patient with the bandaged thumb departed and Dr. Thompson said to Orissa.

“Now, Mrs. Lane, you look well enough
!
So I cannot believe you need my services.”

“No, thank you, I do not,” Orissa replied. “But there is a woman who does but who will not ask your help.”

She explained to the doctor about Mrs. Mahla’s illness and that she was the wife of her teacher.

She had the feeling that because the Indian woman was a Third Class passenger, Dr. Thompson was quite glad not to have the bother of treating her.

“It is all the same with these Indians,” he said in a disparaging tone. “They do not care for our type of food and practically starve themselves to death on the voyage. But the woman has not got long now before she w
ill be back on rice and chapatti
s which suit her far better than anything else.”

“In the meantime her husband says she is in considerable pain,” Orissa said gently.

The doctor produced from a cupboard a bottle filled with a white-looking liquid.

“Tell him to give her two tablespoons of this every four hours,” he said. “It should settle her stomach, and here are a few pills which will make her sleep.”

“Thank you very much,” Orissa said gratefully.

“It is more faith-healing than anything else with those people,” the Doctor said. “Tell her to throw in a prayer to the right god and she’ll soon be better.”

Orissa thanked him again and carrying the medicine went back to the cabin where Mr. Mahla was waiting.

She told him what the Doctor had prescribed and he was profuse in his gratitude for her kindness in obtaining the medicines.

“Let us take them to your wife right away,” Orissa suggested.

“You are quite certain you do not mind visiting my humble cabin?” Mr. Mahla asked. “My wife would deem it a very great honour that such a gracious lady should come to see her, but I do not wish to impose upon your good nature.”

“It is no imposition,” Orissa said. “I would very much like to meet your wife. I should have suggested it before.”

They went down the stairways which led from the First Class Deck to the Second Class and again to the Third.

Despite the assurance Orissa had received from the Steward that the other decks were unusually comfortable she could not help noticing how hot and stifling it was below.

The passages were narrow, undecorated and the Mahlas’ cabin when they reached it seemed far too small for the number of people it contained.

Mr. Mahla, Orissa learnt, had six children. The family was all packed, eight of them, into a cabin which was intended to hold four and there hardly seemed room to turn round.

There was no doubt that Mrs. Mahla was in pain.

She was lying down and groaning with her hands crossed over her stomach but she made a great effort to try to sit up when her husband introduced Orissa.

“Do not move,” Orissa begged. “I am here because I know you are ill and I have brought you some medicine which I hope will make you better.”

“I am in pain—I shall die before we reach home,” Mrs. Mahla groaned.

“I promise you will not do that,” she said, “and you must think of the children. What will they do if you are too ill to look after them?”

The children, who ranged in age from a few months to a girl of perhaps ten years old seemed apparently to think this was their cue because they began to cry out to their mother that she must get well for their sakes.

They were all extremely pretty children. Orissa liked their large, brown, soulful eyes and the manner in which even the small ones managed to induce a soft pleading note into their musical voices.

She persuaded Mrs. Mahla to swallow tablespoonfuls of the Doctor’s medicine right away. Then she gave her two pills which would make her sleep, and told the children they must be very quiet.

Because she realised that without his wife’s assistance Mr. Mahla seemed rather helpless, she helped him put the younger children into their bunks where two of them slept side by side.

She then fed the baby with some watery milk which was all that was obtainable on board, until the child closed its eyes and went to sleep.

Mr. Mahla put
the
baby in beside his wife who was so quiet and still that Orissa was certain that the sleeping-draught had taken effect.

“You have done so much for which I thank you,” he said. “Now I will take you back.”

“No, it is too late for our lesson,” Orissa answered. “I will find my own way. You must stay and look after the children who must not wake their mother now she is asleep.”

“You cannot find your way alone,” he protested.

“Of course I can,” Orissa answered. “I will not get lost, I promise you. Stay here, and I am sure when your wife has had a really good night, she will feel quite different in the morning.”

“May you be blessed for your kindness,” Mr. Mahla said and lifted his hands to his forehead.

Orissa smiled at him and slipped from the cabin.

It was very hot, and outside she wiped her forehead with her handkerchief before she set out to retrace her steps along the narrow passages to the stair-way.

She had gone a little way when she heard laughter, noisy voices speaking in English and saw coming towards her three soldiers.

They were in uniform and she realised as they approached that they were all three drunk and unsteady on their feet.

There was no way she could avoid meeting them as the passage was so narrow.

She therefore walked on steadily towards them until as they appeared, with their arms round each other’s shoulders, not inclined to make way for her, she stood against the side of
the
passage expecting them to pass.

But instead they came to a standstill.

“What’ve we ’ere?” One of them asked in a slurred voice. “Somethin’ very pretty we ain’t seen before.”

“Someone we’ve certainly not seen before,” another soldier remarked. “Where’ve yer been hiding yerself, dearie?”

He stuck his head forward to leer into Orissa’s face and she felt a little tremor of fear as she managed to say quietly and with dignity:

“Kindly let me pass.”

“Oh, us can’t do that!”
the
third soldier said jovially, “not ’til yer’ve told us awl about yerself!”

They stood closer to Orissa hemming her in. She could smell beer on their breath and the heat of their bodies seemed to be reaching out towards her making her feel uncertain and afraid.

“Will you please let me pass,” she asked again.

Conscious that they towered over her she felt small, and insignificant, while her voice had not the tone of authority she would have wished.

“Wot’s yer hurry?” asked the soldier who had spoken first. “Perhaps us
’ll
let yer go if yer’re kind t’us. We ain’t seen a pretty gal like yer since we left Tilbury, ’ave we, boys?”

“That us ain’t,” the other man answered, “so yer must be a sport an’ give us awl a kiss befo
’
re us lets yer escape.”

Orissa drew in her breath.

She wanted to scream for help. But she wondered whether in the depths of the ship anyone would hear her, and even if they did whether they would take any notice?

“Now come on then,” one of the soldiers leered. “A kiss awl round an’ us’ll let yer go—if yer insists.”

“That’s if yer do insist,” another laughed.

Orissa lifted her hands as if she would fight her way through them and then as she opened her mouth to scream an authoritative voice asked:

“What is going on here?”

She thought she must cry out with relief.

The soldiers who had been bending towards her straightened themselves and made an unsteady effort to stand to attention.

“Return to your quarters immediately!” Major Meredith ordered.

The three men made an attempt at saluting him, then turned somewhat sham
e
facedly and shuffled down the passage-way.

Orissa had one glance at Major Meredith’s face and walked on the way she had been going. She knew that he was following her and was conscious that her heart was beating furiously.

At the same time she was overwhelmed with relief because he had come just at the right moment to save her.

She reached the staircase and he walked just one step behind her until they reached the broader stairway going from the Second Class to the Upper deck.

It was then that he moved to her side.

“What were you doing down there?” he questioned, “or need I ask?”

There was such a note of contempt in his voice that Orissa drew in her breath.

So that was why he thought she had gone below!

He had imagined that the Indian with whom he suspected her of conducting a love-affair was too frightened to come to the First Class and so she had gone to him!

She felt her anger, hot and furious, rise within her, and then as it did so a sudden faintness swept over her.

It was partly the heat, partly
the
unpleasant experience of encountering the soldiers, and partly the fact that she had not slept the night before and had been able to eat nothing all day.

She had thought the food would choke her, but the absence of it left her curiously weak.

She felt now as if her head was very light and the darkness was coming up from the floor to cover her.

She reached out her hand towards the bannisters, made an inarticulate little sound and then even as she felt herself falling, Major Meredith caught her in his arms.

He lifted her as if she were a child, carried her up the remaining stairs, and pushing open the door of the Writing-Room set her down in a leather armchair.

It was a small room which was seldom used.

Orissa put her head back and shut her eyes. She felt the whole ship was swimming round her and yet she was not completely unconscious.

She heard Major Meredith go to the door and give an order, and a few seconds later, although it may have been longer, she felt a glass against her lips.

“Drink this!”

She wanted to refuse, but there was something in his tone which made her obey him and she felt the fiery spirit leap like a flame down her throat.

It was almost agony, but when she would have pushed the glass away he commanded: