The evening of the ship’s concert was as clear and balmy as the previous evenings had been. The ongoing fine weather amazed people more used to rain and snow than sunshine at this time of year and there was much speculation from those travelling to the Orient for the first time about how much hotter it would get in the Tropics.
There was a feeling of happy anticipation throughout the ship about the concert, and even the cabin passengers mostly forgot to be blasé about the amateurs performing in it, because everyone knew at least one of the performers.
Rémi kept an eye on Barrett, who had been behaving strangely all day. The fellow seemed abstracted one minute, then would jerk and stare round as if he’d just woken up. At one point, he left the cabin to go on deck and when Rémi followed, he saw Barrett staring out to sea as if unaware of the busy preparations going on all round him.
It was a while before he went back to the cabin and Rémi felt obliged to follow him and check what he was doing.
After fidgeting around for a while and making a sudden rush into one corner, flapping his hands, Barrett exclaimed, ‘I’ve had enough of this!’ and rang for the steward.
‘Ah, there you are. Took you long enough to answer the bell. I wish to complain about the rats that keep invading our cabin, mostly during the night, but there was one in here just now. They’re the size of dogs, dammit!’
‘Rats, sir? No one else has complained and I’ve certainly not seen any. This is a brand-new ship, you know.’
As Rémi looked at the younger man in shock, the steward turned to him. ‘Have you seen any rats, Mr Newland?’
‘No. Not one.’
‘You must have done!’ Barrett exclaimed. ‘I drove one out of the cabin only a few minutes ago.’
‘I haven’t seen any sign of vermin.’ He was starting to worry that his companion really had gone mad. What else could explain this strange behaviour?
He followed the steward out of the cabin to discuss it, thankful when Barrett didn’t follow them, or even seem aware of them leaving. ‘Mr Barrett has been acting very strangely lately. He seems to be hallucinating. I can’t imagine what’s wrong.’
‘We did have another gentleman with hallucinations like that on a ship a couple of years ago.’
‘What caused it?’
The steward hesitated. ‘I’d rather not say. It might upset the captain to hear I’d been talking about passengers’ problems. The other gentleman’s family was rather upset at the time and asked for it to be kept quiet. Anyway, it might not be the same thing.’
‘Couldn’t you just give me a hint?’
‘No, sir. I’d better not.’
‘Well, if Mr Barrett gets any worse, I’ll have to call in the doctor. In fact, perhaps we should do that now, just to make sure everything’s all right. What do you think?’
‘The doctor’s been looking forward to the concert like everyone else, sir. He won’t come unless it’s an emergency.’ He glanced back into the cabin. ‘Anyway, Mr Barrett seems to have settled down now. He looks as if he’s asleep.’
Rémi sighed as he watched the steward walk away. Barrett’s behaviour was sensible enough to leave a doubt in one’s mind as to whether the man was indeed sinking into madness. He might just be running a fever, which could make people act strangely. And indeed, Barrett had seemed feverish at times over the past few days, though he denied it strongly. But mild fevers didn’t normally last this long, and there were no other symptoms of an illness.
In the end, Rémi roused the other man and suggested he get ready for the concert. But this seemed to take a long time, because Barrett kept stopping to stare into space, so in the end Rémi left him to it.
On deck, he went to see if he could help Fergus. But everything seemed to be in good order, with the piano in place at one side of the performance area, and a set of narrow benches squeezed in to the side and rear of it for the performers. Cabin passengers were to be seated in rows in front of the performance area, and a variety of more comfortable seats had been brought out for them. Steerage passengers would have to stand round the edges. Children (if well behaved and clean) could sit on the floor in front of the cabin passengers’ seats.
Two sailors were keeping an eye on things, in case any of the children tried to get up to mischief. One of the sailors, who was standing near the performers’ area, beckoned to Rémi.
‘I thought I’d better warn you, sir: earlier on Mr Barrett came to see if the stage was set up properly. He wanted to change things round and I knew Mr Deagan wouldn’t want that – a very capable man, Mr Deagan, if I may say so. Anyway, I refused to do as Mr Barrett wished, but I had to get help to send him on his way.’
Rémi’s heart sank.
The man lowered his voice still further. ‘The chief steward has asked us to keep an eye on Mr Barrett, says he’s behaving strangely.’
‘Yes, he is, I’m afraid. You did exactly the right thing.’ It was a relief to Rémi that he wasn’t the only one keeping an eye on Barrett, a great relief.
‘Thank you, sir.’ The sailor paused to grab a lad by his collar and say, ‘Get back to the others and stay quiet or you’ll have to go and stand at the back, and then you won’t see much.’
The lad eyed him, then did as he was told.
‘I’m glad I’m on duty here tonight, sir. I always enjoy concerts and I don’t want anybody spoiling this one.’ The sailor leaned closer and added in a confidential voice, ‘It can be quite amusing when things go wrong, or someone can’t sing, though I doubt that will happen tonight, not with Mr Deagan in charge. He’s been down to the engine room a couple of times, you know, and had a long talk with the engineers. Knows a lot about steam engines, he does.’
Rémi was pleased at how well respected Fergus was.
When Barrett didn’t appear, Rémi felt obliged to check and found him still in the cabin, pacing to and fro, looking very agitated. And he wasn’t ready yet, hadn’t even put his jacket out.
‘Is something wrong?’ Rémi asked him.
‘Wrong? No. Of course it isn’t. But we’d all do a lot better if we could have a drink before we start performing. It relaxes you.’
‘Try taking deep breaths. I’ve always found that very calming.’
The scornful look Rémi received for that remark, which he’d meant seriously, made him feel angry. But he said nothing. He knew he mustn’t upset Barrett, had to stay near him for Fergus and Cara’s sake. He liked them both and was determined to help them avoid trouble.
It’d be a relief to them all when they arrived at Suez and changed ships. Barrett would continue to sail on the Peshawur. The people of Bombay were welcome to him.
On that thought, Rémi went back on deck. It wouldn’t matter to him if Barrett didn’t join in the concert at all – in fact, that might be better – but he’d warn Fergus to be ready to fill in for the man with another piano piece or song, if necessary.
As Cara got ready for the concert, she looked so worried, Fergus asked her what was wrong.
‘I don’t know. I just feel … well, as if something bad is going to happen.’
‘So do I,’ Ma said. ‘I get these feelings sometimes and I’m never wrong. Never. I’ll tell Pa to keep a very careful eye on the boys tonight. I don’t want them getting mixed up in any trouble.’
Fergus looked at the two women in surprise. ‘Well, I hope you’re wrong this time, Ma. Everyone’s put a lot of effort into tonight’s concert.’ He put an arm round Cara and gave her a quick hug. ‘Try not to worry. You look lovely.’
She squeaked and pushed him away. ‘Mind my hair.’
He stepped back, pleased that he’d distracted her. She wasn’t too upset to make herself look good. More than good – beautiful.
‘You look like a princess in a storybook, Mama,’ Mal said suddenly.
‘Thank you, dear.’
It pleased Fergus that his son had offered Cara a compliment, and also that Sean was on better terms with his young stepmother. The boy was enjoying the story books she’d bought for the journey, and was starting to try to read them himself, with her tactful help.
Mal beamed at his father. ‘And you look like a posh gentleman, Da.’
‘Cara’s trimmed my hair and mended my best shirt, the one that got torn, that’s why.’
But Mal shook his head. ‘It’s not that.’
Sean said, ‘He’s right, Da. It’s not the shirt that does it, it’s … you. You look as if you’re the one in charge. Like the gentry look.’
‘Thank you, son. I am in charge of the concert, but not of much else!’ He held out his arm. ‘Are we ready to go then, Mrs Deagan?’
She dropped a mock curtsey before she took his arm, ‘Yes, we are, Mr Deagan.’
He saw Ma smiling fondly at them and winked at her.
But once he’d left Cara sitting with the other performers, he admitted to himself that the two women’s feeling of unease had struck a chord with him. He hoped they were wrong. He hoped he was on edge only because he was in charge of the entertainment.
He had to stand alone in front of everyone, waiting for people to take their places, and that made him feel nervous, so he was glad to see Rémi coming towards him.
‘Everything all right, Fergus?’
‘Yes, thank you. All we need now is the performers to remember what we rehearsed.’
‘You made sure they understood what you wanted. And most of them weren’t too stupid to realise you were making them look better.’ Rémi grinned. ‘They won’t all remember, though. They never do at amateur concerts, but no one expects perfection.’
Fergus relaxed a little. ‘You’re right.’
Gradually the benches to the side filled up with the performers and the cabin passengers started to take their places in the centre. Steerage passengers had already positioned themselves along the rear and sides. They were in a good mood, laughing and chatting, with the taller ones letting the shorter people and older children stand in front of them.
Rémi scanned the benches of performers. ‘Barrett hasn’t shown up yet.’
‘No. And he was in a strange mood earlier, wasn’t he? If he doesn’t turn up, I’ll sing his song. But I’d rather not. He’d make a big fuss about that, I’m sure.’
Rémi couldn’t help glancing in the direction of his cabin every minute or two. Where was the man? Surely Barrett hadn’t got hold of any wine or brandy? Surely he would be sober enough to perform properly?
Just as he’d decided to go and look for the fellow yet again, he saw Barrett come on deck and pause for a moment, staring round as if he wasn’t sure what to do.
Rémi went across to him. ‘There you are. Come and join the other performers. They’re sitting over to the side.’ He indicated the benches. ‘Your song is the fourth item, isn’t it?’
‘What? Oh, yes. My song.’
‘Let me find you a place.’ He deliberately led Barrett to the end away from Cara.
To his horror, Barrett whispered, ‘Where is she?’ His voice was loud enough to be heard by those nearby, who didn’t even try to pretend they weren’t listening.
‘Who do you mean?’
Barrett tittered. ‘You know who! The scarlet woman. I don’t want to sit near her. Not yet. Not till I’m ready to say something. Soon, though. I shall soon reveal all.’
‘You’ll be all right at this end of the bench.’ And he’d be closer to the fellow, if there was trouble. What did Barrett mean by his last remark? If he tried to say anything about Cara, Rémi would punch him. He didn’t like fighting but could handle himself if necessary, especially to protect someone.
He sighed and took his place to the side of the stage. He could do no more about the situation at the moment. Their only hope was that the music would do its usual job of calming Barrett down.
When everyone was in place, the Captain and first mate came out escorting a titled gentleman and his wife, who were on their way to serve in India. They had been treated with great deference during the whole journey, dining in the captain’s cabin most of the time, and not mingling much with even the better class of passenger.
They took their places in the front row, smiling graciously, then Fergus moved forward to welcome everyone. He begged their indulgence towards a group of talented amateurs who had worked hard to put the concert together.
He introduced the first act, which was a duet by two young ladies. Their mother, who was accompanying them, struck a chord on the piano and they began singing.
They didn’t have much talent but they’d been well taught and could hold a tune. Tonight they remembered everything Fergus had suggested to improve their performance and when the audience applauded loudly, they both blushed and looked charmingly confused.
The second act was an elderly gentleman, who recited a poem. Fergus had persuaded him to shorten it, and that made a big difference to its impact.
The third act was the choir, and Fergus kept an eye on Barrett. But the man merely followed the others, standing at the end of a row, and singing with them. The audience applauded loudly.
Then the choir moved back to the benches and Fergus introduced Barrett, who was looking round as if unsure what he was doing there on his own.
But once Fergus played the introductory music, Barrett jerked to attention and began singing his song, not as well as usual, but well enough. He too won a round of applause from an audience ready to be pleased.
People called for an encore, but he ignored them and went off to sit on the end of a bench, staring down at his clenched fists.
Fergus stepped in quickly. ‘Mr Barrett is saving his voice for later,’ he told the audience.
Item by item they went through the programme, and no one forgot their lines or their cues. It was going very well indeed, far better than the organisers had hoped.
After a short interval, Fergus started the second half by singing two songs. Strange how people loved sentimental Irish songs and yet didn’t like the Irish, he thought as the audience applauded loudly. Ah well, he couldn’t change that, could he now? He just had to live with it.
It was as the choir was moving into place to perform the finale that it happened.
Barrett suddenly stood up and yelled, ‘This is not right!’ His face was flushed and he had a wild look. He shoved a woman out of the way and looked as if he was trying to get to Cara.
Rémi headed for him, hoping no one else had realised whom Barrett was going after.
One of the sailors joined him. ‘Now, sir. Please calm down and—’
But Barrett backed away and when they started to follow, he yelled, ‘Stay where you are!’ and produced a knife. The blade looked sharp and it wasn’t a kitchen knife, but a large, old-fashioned dagger.
There was an ‘Oooh!’ from the people assembled and those closest to Barrett edged back as much as they could.
Where the hell had he got that dagger from? Rémi wondered. Had he brought it on board with him?
‘Keep quiet!’ the captain called. ‘Everyone, please stay where you are and leave this to my crew.’
Silence fell as everyone waited to see what Barrett would do. The captain gestured to his officers to wait a moment and see what happened next.
But the sailor who had stepped in first didn’t see this unspoken command and continued to edge slowly towards Barrett from one direction while Rémi moved in from the other side.
Barrett waved the knife threateningly. ‘I said to stay back.’
They stopped for a moment, waiting.
‘I have something to say.’ Barrett had reached the rails. He felt behind him with one foot for the bottom cross piece, not taking his eyes off the two men trying to get to him. As he stood on the lower rail to gain extra height, they edged forward again.
‘Stay back, I said!’ he yelled, looking so wild they did as ordered.
‘I have something to tell you all, something important, and I won’t be silenced. It’s a disgrace, that’s what it is. And if you don’t let me say it, I’ll use this to make my point.’ He brandished the knife, its blade gleaming in the light from the many lanterns set out for the concert.
It was like a scene from a nightmare.
Suddenly Barrett mounted higher, causing those watching to gasp audibly as he wobbled, nearly fell, then got into a position straddling the top rail.
Not for one minute did he lower the knife and his eyes moved constantly from Rémi to the sailor, who were standing quite still nearby.
‘Dear heaven, the idiot will fall overboard if he’s not careful,’ Fergus murmured to the officer now standing next to him. ‘He’s run mad. We have to do something.’
‘Nothing we can do to stop him while he’s brandishing that knife. He could kill someone.’
‘But—’
The officer put out his arm to bar the way. ‘Stay where you are, sir, please. There are two sailors, one quite close to him, and that’s enough to stop him harming the other passengers. If they keep him there for long enough, he’ll let his guard down. Some of the other men are moving forward step by step, ready to help. But if anyone moves too suddenly now, they may drive him to attack.’
Fergus had to acknowledge the sense of this, but he knew what Barrett wanted to tell people, knew the man wanted to hurt Cara. It was terrible to be so helpless in the face of disaster for someone you loved.
He turned to look for her, desperate to make sure she was protected. She was still sitting in the middle of the choir and after checking that she was all right, he looked away, not wishing to draw attention to her. She’d had the wit to stay hidden from Barrett, without making it obvious what she was doing, and though her expression was anxious, everyone else was looking upset too, so she didn’t seem any different from the other women.
He tried desperately to think of a way to stop Barrett from speaking, from destroying his wife’s reputation.
If he didn’t manage to do that, he and his whole family would have to take Cara away and settle somewhere they were unknown. He wasn’t sure where that might be, was only sure that whatever happened, he was going to look after her, cherish her, love her and make her his wife in more than name.