The Rescue: A Romance of the Shallows

  VI

  After a time this absolute silence which she almost could feel pressingupon her on all sides induced in Mrs. Travers a state of hallucination.She saw herself standing alone, at the end of time, on the brink ofdays. All was unmoving as if the dawn would never come, the stars wouldnever fade, the sun would never rise any more; all was mute, still,dead--as if the shadow of the outer darkness, the shadow of theuninterrupted, of the everlasting night that fills the universe, theshadow of the night so profound and so vast that the blazing suns lostin it are only like sparks, like pin-points of fire, the restless shadowthat like a suspicion of an evil truth darkens everything upon the earthon its passage, had enveloped her, had stood arrested as if to remainwith her forever.

  And there was such a finality in that illusion, such an accord with thetrend of her thought that when she murmured into the darkness a faint"so be it" she seemed to have spoken one of those sentences that resumeand close a life.

  As a young girl, often reproved for her romantic ideas, she haddreams where the sincerity of a great passion appeared like the idealfulfilment and the only truth of life. Entering the world she discoveredthat ideal to be unattainable because the world is too prudent tobe sincere. Then she hoped that she could find the truth of life anambition which she understood as a lifelong devotion to some unselfishideal. Mr. Travers' name was on men's lips; he seemed capable ofenthusiasm and of devotion; he impressed her imagination by hisimpenetrability. She married him, found him enthusiastically devoted tothe nursing of his own career, and had nothing to hope for now.

  That her husband should be bewildered by the curious misunderstandingwhich had taken place and also permanently grieved by her disloyaltyto his respectable ideals was only natural. He was, however, perfectlysatisfied with her beauty, her brilliance, and her useful connections.She was admired, she was envied; she was surrounded by splendour andadulation; the days went on rapid, brilliant, uniform, without a glimpseof sincerity or true passion, without a single true emotion--not eventhat of a great sorrow. And swiftly and stealthily they had led her onand on, to this evening, to this coast, to this sea, to this moment oftime and to this spot on the earth's surface where she felt unerringlythat the moving shadow of the unbroken night had stood still to remainwith her forever.

  "So be it!" she murmured, resigned and defiant, at the mute and smoothobscurity that hung before her eyes in a black curtain without afold; and as if in answer to that whisper a lantern was run up to theforeyard-arm of the brig. She saw it ascend swinging for a. short space,and suddenly remain motionless in the air, piercing the dense nightbetween the two vessels by its glance of flame that strong and steadyseemed, from afar, to fall upon her alone.

  Her thoughts, like a fascinated moth, went fluttering toward thatlight--that man--that girl, who had known war, danger, seen death near,had obtained evidently the devotion of that man. The occurrences of theafternoon had been strange in themselves, but what struck her artisticsense was the vigour of their presentation. They outlined themselvesbefore her memory with the clear simplicity of some immortal legend.They were mysterious, but she felt certain they were absolutely true.They embodied artless and masterful feelings; such, no doubt, as hadswayed mankind in the simplicity of its youth. She envied, for a moment,the lot of that humble and obscure sister. Nothing stood between thatgirl and the truth of her sensations. She could be sincerely courageous,and tender and passionate and--well--ferocious. Why not ferocious? Shecould know the truth of terror--and of affection, absolutely, withoutartificial trammels, without the pain of restraint.

  Thinking of what such life could be Mrs. Travers felt invaded by thatinexplicable exaltation which the consciousness of their physicalcapacities so often gives to intellectual beings. She glowed with asudden persuasion that she also could be equal to such an existence; andher heart was dilated with a momentary longing to know the naked truthof things; the naked truth of life and passion buried under the growthof centuries.

  She glowed and, suddenly, she quivered with the shock of coming toherself as if she had fallen down from a star. There was a sound ofrippling water and a shapeless mass glided out of the dark void sheconfronted. A voice below her feet said:

  "I made out your shape--on the sky." A cry of surprise expired on herlips and she could only peer downward. Lingard, alone in the brig'sdinghy, with another stroke sent the light boat nearly under the yacht'scounter, laid his sculls in, and rose from the thwart. His head andshoulders loomed up alongside and he had the appearance of standing uponthe sea. Involuntarily Mrs. Travers made a movement of retreat.

  "Stop," he said, anxiously, "don't speak loud. No one must know. Wheredo your people think themselves, I wonder? In a dock at home? And you--"

  "My husband is not on board," she interrupted, hurriedly.

  "I know."

  She bent a little more over the rail.

  "Then you are having us watched. Why?"

  "Somebody must watch. Your people keep such a good look-out--don't they?Yes. Ever since dark one of my boats has been dodging astern here, inthe deep water. I swore to myself I would never see one of you, neverspeak to one of you here, that I would be dumb, blind, deaf. And--here Iam!"

  Mrs. Travers' alarm and mistrust were replaced by an immense curiosity,burning, yet quiet, too, as if before the inevitable work of destiny.She looked downward at Lingard. His head was bared, and, with one handupon the ship's side, he seemed to be thinking deeply.

  "Because you had something more to tell us," Mrs. Travers suggested,gently.

  "Yes," he said in a low tone and without moving in the least.

  "Will you come on board and wait?" she asked.

  "Who? I!" He lifted his head so quickly as to startle her. "I havenothing to say to him; and I'll never put my foot on board this craft.I've been told to go. That's enough."

  "He is accustomed to be addressed deferentially," she said after apause, "and you--"

  "Who is he?" asked Lingard, simply.

  These three words seemed to her to scatter her past in the air--likesmoke. They robbed all the multitude of mankind of every vestige ofimportance. She was amazed to find that on this night, in this place,there could be no adequate answer to the searching naiveness of thatquestion.

  "I didn't ask for much," Lingard began again. "Did I? Only that you allshould come on board my brig for five days. That's all. . . . Do Ilook like a liar? There are things I could not tell him. I couldn'texplain--I couldn't--not to him--to no man--to no man in the world--"

  His voice dropped.

  "Not to myself," he ended as if in a dream.

  "We have remained unmolested so long here," began Mrs. Travers a littleunsteadily, "that it makes it very difficult to believe in danger, now.We saw no one all these days except those two people who came for you.If you may not explain--"

  "Of course, you can't be expected to see through a wall," broke inLingard. "This coast's like a wall, but I know what's on the other side.. . . A yacht here, of all things that float! When I set eyes on her Icould fancy she hadn't been more than an hour from home. Nothing but thelook of her spars made me think of old times. And then the faces of thechaps on board. I seemed to know them all. It was like home coming to mewhen I wasn't thinking of it. And I hated the sight of you all."

  "If we are exposed to any peril," she said after a pause during whichshe tried to penetrate the secret of passion hidden behind that man'swords, "it need not affect you. Our other boat is gone to the Straitsand effective help is sure to come very soon."

  "Affect me! Is that precious watchman of yours coming aft? I don't wantanybody to know I came here again begging, even of you. Is he comingaft? . . . Listen! I've stopped your other boat."

  His head and shoulders disappeared as though he had dived into a denserlayer of obscurity floating on the water. The watchman, who had theintention to stretch himself in one of the deck chairs, catching sightof the owner's wife, walked straight to the lamp that hung under theridge pole of the awning, and after fumbling with it for a
time wentaway forward with an indolent gait.

  "You dared!" Mrs. Travers whispered down in an intense tone; anddirectly, Lingard's head emerged again below her with an upturned face.

  "It was dare--or give up. The help from the Straits would have been toolate anyhow if I hadn't the power to keep you safe; and if I had thepower I could see you through it--alone. I expected to find a reasonableman to talk to. I ought to have known better. You come from too far tounderstand these things. Well, I dared; I've sent after your other boata fellow who, with me at his back, would try to stop the governor ofthe Straits himself. He will do it. Perhaps it's done already. Youhave nothing to hope for. But I am here. You said you believed I meantwell--"

  "Yes," she murmured.

  "That's why I thought I would tell you everything. I had to begin withthis business about the boat. And what do you think of me now? I've cutyou off from the rest of the earth. You people would disappear like astone in the water. You left one foreign port for another. Who's thereto trouble about what became of you? Who would know? Who could guess? Itwould be months before they began to stir."

  "I understand," she said, steadily, "we are helpless."

  "And alone," he added.

  After a pause she said in a deliberate, restrained voice:

  "What does this mean? Plunder, captivity?"

  "It would have meant death if I hadn't been here," he answered.

  "But you have the power to--"

  "Why, do you think, you are alive yet?" he cried. "Jorgenson has beenarguing with them on shore," he went on, more calmly, with a swing ofhis arm toward where the night seemed darkest. "Do you think he wouldhave kept them back if they hadn't expected me every day? His wordswould have been nothing without my fist."

  She heard a dull blow struck on the side of the yacht and concealed inthe same darkness that wrapped the unconcern of the earth and sea, thefury and the pain of hearts; she smiled above his head, fascinated bythe simplicity of images and expressions.

  Lingard made a brusque movement, the lively little boat being unsteadyunder his feet, and she spoke slowly, absently, as if her thought hadbeen lost in the vagueness of her sensations.

  "And this--this--Jorgenson, you said? Who is he?"

  "A man," he answered, "a man like myself."

  "Like yourself?"

  "Just like myself," he said with strange reluctance, as if admitting apainful truth. "More sense, perhaps, but less luck. Though, since youryacht has turned up here, I begin to think that my luck is nothing muchto boast of either."

  "Is our presence here so fatal?"

  "It may be death to some. It may be worse than death to me. And it restswith you in a way. Think of that! I can never find such another chanceagain. But that's nothing! A man who has saved my life once and that Ipassed my word to would think I had thrown him over. But that's nothing!Listen! As true as I stand here in my boat talking to you, I believe thegirl would die of grief."

  "You love her," she said, softly.

  "Like my own daughter," he cried, low.

  Mrs. Travers said, "Oh!" faintly, and for a moment there was a silence,then he began again:

  "Look here. When I was a boy in a trawler, and looked at you yachtpeople, in the Channel ports, you were as strange to me as the Malayshere are strange to you. I left home sixteen years ago and fought my wayall round the earth. I had the time to forget where I began. What areyou to me against these two? If I was to die here on the spot would youcare? No one would care at home. No one in the whole world--but thesetwo."

  "What can I do?" she asked, and waited, leaning over.

  He seemed to reflect, then lifting his head, spoke gently:

  "Do you understand the danger you are in? Are you afraid?"

  "I understand the expression you used, of course. Understand thedanger?" she went on. "No--decidedly no. And--honestly--I am notafraid."

  "Aren't you?" he said in a disappointed voice. "Perhaps you don'tbelieve me? I believed you, though, when you said you were sure I meantwell. I trusted you enough to come here asking for your help--tellingyou what no one knows."

  "You mistake me," she said with impulsive earnestness. "This is soextraordinarily unusual--sudden--outside my experience."

  "Aye!" he murmured, "what would you know of danger and trouble? You! Butperhaps by thinking it over--"

  "You want me to think myself into a fright!" Mrs. Travers laughedlightly, and in the gloom of his thought this flash of joyous soundwas incongruous and almost terrible. Next moment the night appearedbrilliant as day, warm as sunshine; but when she ceased the returningdarkness gave him pain as if it had struck heavily against his breast."I don't think I could do that," she finished in a serious tone.

  "Couldn't you?" He hesitated, perplexed. "Things are bad enough to makeit no shame. I tell you," he said, rapidly, "and I am not a timid man, Imay not be able to do much if you people don't help me."

  "You want me to pretend I am alarmed?" she asked, quickly.

  "Aye, to pretend--as well you may. It's a lot to ask of you--who perhapsnever had to make-believe a thing in your life--isn't it?"

  "It is," she said after a time.

  The unexpected bitterness of her tone struck Lingard with dismay.

  "Don't be offended," he entreated. "I've got to plan a way out of thismess. It's no play either. Could you pretend?"

  "Perhaps, if I tried very hard. But to what end?"

  "You must all shift aboard the brig," he began, speaking quickly, "andthen we may get over this trouble without coming to blows. Now, if youwere to say that you wish it; that you feel unsafe in the yacht--don'tyou see?"

  "I see," she pronounced, thoughtfully.

  "The brig is small but the cuddy is fit for a lady," went on Lingardwith animation.

  "Has it not already sheltered a princess?" she commented, coolly.

  "And I shall not intrude."

  "This is an inducement."

  "Nobody will dare to intrude. You needn't even see me."

  "This is almost decisive, only--"

  "I know my place."

  "Only, I might not have the influence," she finished.

  "That I can not believe," he said, roughly. "The long and the short ofit is you don't trust me because you think that only people of your owncondition speak the truth always."

  "Evidently," she murmured.

  "You say to yourself--here's a fellow deep in with pirates, thieves,niggers--"

  "To be sure--"

  "A man I never saw the like before," went on Lingard, headlong,"a--ruffian."

  He checked himself, full of confusion. After a time he heard her saying,calmly:

  "You are like other men in this, that you get angry when you can nothave your way at once."

  "I angry!" he exclaimed in deadened voice. "You do not understand. I amthinking of you also--it is hard on me--"

  "I mistrust not you, but my own power. You have produced an unfortunateimpression on Mr. Travers."

  "Unfortunate impression! He treated me as if I had been a long-shoreloafer. Never mind that. He is your husband. Fear in those you care foris hard to bear for any man. And so, he--"

  "What Machiavellism!"

  "Eh, what did you say?"

  "I only wondered where you had observed that. On the sea?"

  "Observed what?" he said, absently. Then pursuing his idea--"One wordfrom you ought to be enough."

  "You think so?"

  "I am sure of it. Why, even I, myself--"

  "Of course," she interrupted. "But don't you think that after partingwith you on such--such--inimical terms, there would be a difficulty inresuming relations?"

  "A man like me would do anything for money--don't you see?"

  After a pause she asked:

  "And would you care for that argument to be used?"

  "As long as you know better!"

  His voice vibrated--she drew back disturbed, as if unexpectedly he hadtouched her.

  "What can there be at stake?" she began, wonderingly.

/>   "A kingdom," said Lingard.

  Mrs. Travers leaned far over the rail, staring, and their faces, oneabove the other, came very close together.

  "Not for yourself?" she whispered.

  He felt the touch of her breath on his forehead and remained still fora moment, perfectly still as if he did not intend to move or speak anymore.

  "Those things," he began, suddenly, "come in your way, when you don'tthink, and they get all round you before you know what you mean todo. When I went into that bay in New Guinea I never guessed where thatcourse would take me to. I could tell you a story. You would understand!You! You!"

  He stammered, hesitated, and suddenly spoke, liberating the visionsof two years into the night where Mrs. Travers could follow them as ifoutlined in words of fire.