The Captain of the Kansas

  CHAPTER VI

  --BUT GOES ON AGAIN INTO THE UNKNOWN

  This final waiting for the chance of succor seemed to be the hardesttrial of all. The door had been hooked back to keep it wide open, sowind and sea invaded the trim privacy of the cabin. Spray leaped overthe ship in such dense sheets that a considerable quantity of waterquickly lodged on the port side where Courtenay's bunk was fixed.There was no means of escape for it in that quarter, and the angle atwhich the _Kansas_ lay would permit a depth of at least two feet toaccumulate ere the water began to flow out through the door to thestarboard.

  At the great crises of existence the stream of thought is apt to formstrange eddies. Courtenay, when the ship struck, and it was possiblethat each second might register his last conscious impression, foundhimself coolly reviewing various explanations of the existence of anuncharted shoal in a locality situate many miles from the known dangerzone. Elsie, strung half-consciously to the highest tension by theaffrighting probability of being set adrift in a small boat at themercy of the sea roaring without--a sea which pounded the steel hull ofthe _Kansas_ with such force that the great ship seemed to flinch fromeach blow like a creature in pain--Elsie, then, faced by such anintolerable prospect, was a prey to real anxiety because the wearingapparel scattered by Courtenay on the floor was becoming soaked inbrine.

  She actually stooped to rescue a coat which was not yet saturatedbeyond redemption. As she lifted the garment, a packet of letters,tied with a tape, fell from its folds. She placed the coat on thewriting-table, and endeavored to stuff the letters into a pigeon-hole.They were too bulky, so she laid them on the coat. In doing this shecould not avoid seeing the words, "Your loving sister, Madge," writtenon the outer fold of the last letter in the bundle.

  And that brought a memory of her previous visit to the captain'sstateroom; the contrast between the careless chatter of that glorioussummer afternoon and the appalling midnight of this fourth day of thevoyage was something quite immeasurable; it was marked by a void asthat which separates life and death. She was incapable of reasonedreflection. A series of mental pictures, a startling jumble ofideas--trivial as the wish to save the clothes from a wetting,tremendous as the near prospect of eternity--danced through her brainwith bewildering clearness. She felt that if she were fated to live toa ripe old age she would never forget a single detail of the furnitureand decorations of the room. She would hear forever the doloroushowling of the gale, the thumping of the waves against the quiveringplates, the rapid, methodic thud of the donkey-engine, which, longsince deserted by its cowardly attendant, was faithfully doing its workand flooding the ship with electric light.

  She could scarcely believe that it was she, Elsie Maxwell, who stoodthere on the tremulous island of the ship amidst a stormy ocean thelike of which she had never seen before. She seemed to possess anentity apart from herself, to be a passive witness of events as in adream; presently, she would awake and find that she was back in herpleasant room at the Morrisons' hacienda, or tucked up in her owncomfortable cabin. Yet here was proof positive that the terror whichenvironed her was real. Bound up with the thunder of the gale were thewords, "Your loving sister, Madge"--evidently the sister CaptainCourtenay had spoken of--"matron of a hospital in the suburbs ofLondon," he said. Would he ever see her again? Or his mother? Had hethought of them at all during this night of woe? Beneath his iron maskdid tears lurk, and dull agony, and palsied fear--surely a man couldsuffer like a woman, even though he endured most nobly?

  And then, not thinking in the least what she was doing, she scrutinizedthe closely tied packet. She wondered idly why he treasured so manymissives. Each and every one, oddly enough, was written on differentlysized and variously colored note-paper. And it could be seen at aglance that they were from as many different people. The outsideletter was the most clearly visible. Miss Courtenay wrote awell-formed, flowing hand. If handwriting were a clue to character,she was a candid, generous, open-minded woman.

  But what was this? Elsie suddenly threw down the letters. She hadread a sentence at the top of the page twice before she actuallygrasped its purport. When its significance dawned on her, she flushedviolently. For this was what she read:

  "I am glad of it, too, because under no other circumstances would Iwish to greet and embrace the woman destined to be your wife."

  The knowledge that she had involuntarily intruded on CaptainCourtenay's private affairs brought her back with a certain slightshock to a sense of actualities. The storm, the horrible danger shewas in, emerged from shadow-land. Why had he not come for her? Surelythere must have been some further mishap! Heavens! Was she alone onthe ship, alone with the dead men and the dying vessel? Her head swamwith a strange faintness, and she placed a hand to her eyes. She feltthat she must leave the cabin at once, and strive to make her wayunaided along the deck. Yes, whatever happened, she would go now. Itwas too dreadful to wait there any longer in ignorance as to her fate.

  Then Joey sprang in through the doorway, and, with that splendiddisregard for sentiment displayed by a fox-terrier who has just comeout of a first-rate fight, shook his harness until it rattled.

  But he eyed the inrush of the sea with much disfavor, so he leaped upon the table beside Elsie, and looked at her as though he would ask whyshe had permitted this sacrilege.

  Though the dog was apparently unscathed and in the best of condition,his head and forepaws were blood-stained. His advent dispelled themist which was gathering in the girl's brain. She feared a tragedy,yet Joey assuredly would not be so cheerful, so daintily desirous toavoid the splashing water in the cabin, if his master were injured.She was doubtful now whether to go on deck or not. The mere presenceof the dog was a guarantee that Courtenay had not quitted the ship.Indeed, Elsie colored again, and more deeply, at the disloyalty of herungoverned fear. Joey's master would be the last man to desert awoman, no matter what the excuse. She strove to listen for anysignificant noises without, but wind and sea rendered the effortuseless to untrained ears, and there was no shooting or frenzied yellsto rise above the storm.

  "Oh, Joey," she said, "I wish you could speak!"

  The sound of her own voice startled her. In a fashion, it gave her ameasure of time. It seemed so long since she had heard a spoken word.The captain could certainly have gone round the whole ship since heleft her. What could have detained him? She was yielding tonervousness again, and was on the point of venturing out, at least asfar as the deck-house ran, to see if she could distinguish what wastaking place on the after part of the vessel, when Dr. Christobalentered.

  "I suppose you thought you were forgotten," he cried with a pleasantsmile, for Christobal would have a smile for a woman even on hisdeath-bed. "There, now! Don't try to explain your feelings. You havehad a very trying time, and I want you to oblige me by drinking this."

  "This" was a glass of champagne, which he hurriedly poured out of asmall bottle he was carrying into a glass which he produced from apocket. The trivial action, no less than Dr. Christobal's manner,suggested that they were engaged in some fantastic picnic. The outerhorrors were not for them, apparently. They were as secure assight-seers in the Cave of the Winds, awe-smitten tourists who cling toa rail while mighty Niagara thunders harmlessly overhead.

  The mere sight of the wine caused Elsie to realize that her lips andpalate were on fire with salt. At one moment she had not the slightestcognizance of her suffering; at the next, she felt that speech wasimpossible until she drank. Never before had she known what thirstwas. A somewhat inferior vintage suddenly assumed a bouquet whichsurpassed the finest cru ever dreamt of by Marne valley vigneron.

  "Ah, that is better," said the doctor. "Now, if you don't mind, weshall have the door closed."

  With peace suddenly restored to the room, and her faculties helped morethan she suspected, Elsie began to wonder what had happened.

  "Where are the others?" she asked; "and why are you taking things socoolly? Captain Courtenay said--"

 
"Captain Courtenay said exactly what he meant. But circumstancesproved too strong for him. We shall not be able to leave the ship justyet."

  "Can't they lower any of the boats?"

  "Most decidedly. Two boats have been gone some time. I imagined youknew that. Did not the captain tell you?"

  At another time Elsie would have laughed at the prevalent delusion thatshe enjoyed Courtenay's confidence so thoroughly. But she felt thather companion's glib tone was artificial. Something had occurred whichhe was keeping from her. She believed that he had gone to the saloonto procure the wine so that she might have what men called Dutchcourage when bad news came.

  "I have not exchanged a dozen words with the captain since you refusedmy help in the fore cabin," she said. "He had other matters to attendto than explaining the progress of events to me. Why cannot you trustme? I shall not scream, nor faint, nor hinder you in your work; I askyou again-- Where are the others?"

  "You mean Miss Baring and Mrs. Somerville?"

  "Yes."

  "If they are living, they are far enough away by this time. When theirboat was lowered it was cast off prematurely--"

  "Purposely?"

  "Well--yes. Courtenay had just placed Miss Baring's maid on board whensome of the crew let go the ropes. What could we do? We were forcedto depend on them."

  "Is there no other boat?"

  Christobal threw out his hands in his characteristic gesture. He wasso emphatic that he spilled some of the wine.

  "You take it bravely," he said. "I may as well give you the wholestory. The first boat lowered was lost, through the men's ownbungling, the captain says. Then there was a desperate fight for thethree remaining craft. Most of the officers were killed. Courtenaygot a few of us together when Isobel and Mrs. Somerville joined youhere, and we held off such of the madmen as tried to seize thejolly-boat. They managed to lower two life-boats, but, between murderand panic, not half of the crew escaped in that way. Four men, whowere left behind, promised obedience, and Malcolm, the steward, wasplaced in charge, with Mr. Gray as second in command. One of theengineers, acting on the captain's orders, brought a can of oil fromthe engine-room and threw it over the side in handfuls. The result wasmagical. We lowered the boat easily, placed Monsieur de Poincilit onboard, because he was worse than the women, and then Courtenay, as youknow, brought Isobel, the minister's wife--who refused to go withouther husband--and the maid. There was room for you and another, so, atthe captain's request, Tollemache and I tossed for the vacancy.Meanwhile, Courtenay had turned to go for you, when we heard a shoutfrom Gray; two of the Chileans had cast off the ropes which kept theboat alongside. Gray, who was fending her from the ship with theboat-hook, jabbed one fellow in the face with it; but he was too late.The boat raced off into the darkness. And here we are!"

  That Christobal left several things unsaid Elsie knew quite well. Heplumed himself on the reserve he had acquired from his English mother,though in all matters pertaining to nationality he was a true hidalgo.Indeed, there was a touch of vanity in the way he examined the sparkleof the champagne he now poured into Elsie's empty glass. Hescrutinized the wine with the air of a connoisseur. He was looking forthe gas to rise in three or four well-defined spirals. And he noddeddoubtfully, before drinking it, as one might say:

  "The right brand, but of what year?"

  Then it dawned on the girl that both her elderly friend and she herselfwere accepting an extraordinary situation with remarkable nonchalance.

  "How many of us remain on the ship?" she asked.

  "Very few--on the effective list. The captain, an engineer whose nameI do not know, Mr. Tollemache, and ourselves make up the total."

  "Where is Mr. Boyle?"

  "Ah, poor Boyle! I fear he is done for. He is very badly wounded. Ibandaged him as well as I could, but the call on deck was imperative."

  "Is he in the saloon? Should we not go to him?"

  "I have only just left him. The hemorrhage has stopped, and I gave himsome brandy. Believe me, we can do nothing more for him. I toldCourtenay it was quite useless to place him on board the boat. You maybe sure he was not forgotten."

  "I did not imagine that any one would be forgotten," said Elsie, and,for some reason, the light in her eyes caused Christobal to go onrapidly:

  "We have a whole crowd of injured men on board, Miss Maxwell. Atpresent we can render them no aid. I thought it wisest to obey orders.The captain told me to bring you some wine and remain with you here.It will not be for long."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "The ship appears to be lodged hard and fast on a reef or sandspit. Iam told the tide is rising. If that is so, our only hope is in theraft which our three allies are now constructing. With a falling tidewe might have a breathing-space at low water. As it is, well--"

  Christobal, with a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other,nevertheless waved them. Elsie, whose nervous system at this juncturewas proof against any but the last pang of imminent death, could almosthave laughed at the queer figure he cut, brandishing his arms andstanding awkwardly on the inclined deck. She bent her head to hide thesmile on her lips; she noticed that Joey was panting, the use of histeeth on various wet legs during the tussle for the jolly-boat havingcaused him to swallow more salt-water than he cared for. Elsie'ssympathies were aroused. While assuaging her own thirst she hadneglected the dog. She took a carafe of water from its wooden standnear the table, and poured some of the contents into a tumbler. Joey'sthanks were ecstatic. He yelped with delight at the mere thought of adrink.

  While the dog was lapping a second supply, the _Kansas_ shifted againwith a disconcerting suddenness. The water in the cabin swirled acrossthe floor as the ship was restored to an even keel. The movementdislodged the packet of letters. It fell, and Elsie rescued it asecond time. Christobal watched her with undisguised admiration.

  "Really," he said, "I find you wonderful."

  "Why?" Certainly she might be pardoned for seeking an explanation ofany compliment just then.

  "Why? Por Dios! Excuse me, but that slipped out sideways. Justimagine any woman being able to attend to a dog and pick up a bundle ofletters at the very instant the ship appeared to be slipping off intodeep water!"

  "Is not that the best thing that can happen?"

  "My dear young lady, we should sink instantly."

  "How do you know?"

  "Well--er--I don't exactly know, but I assume that the hull was brokenlong since."

  "I don't see why you should take that for granted. These verymovements seem to me to argue buoyancy. Somehow, I feel far safer herethan if I were--"

  She was interrupted by the opening of the door, and the consequent roarof the gale. It was Walker, the engineer, a lank, swarthy man, withlong black mustaches which drooped forlornly down the sides of hismouth. He shouted, with the inimitable accent of Tyneside:

  "Yo' wanted, Docto' Chwistobal. The captain thinks Mr. Boyle isbettaw."

  "May I come, too?" asked Elsie.

  "No, missie. You bide he-aw."

  "Please tell me before you go--is the ship full of water?"

  "She's dwy as a bone," said Walker. A sea splashed over him and sent ashower into the cabin. "A vewy wet bone," he added, with a broad grin,for the Northumbrian had a ready wit though he had such a solemn jowl,and he could not pronounce an "r" to save his life.

  "Between you and the captain, I am beginning to be infected by belief,"said Christobal to Elsie. "Let me recommend you to close the doorbehind us."

  And she was left with the dog for company once more. A chronometershowed that the hour was past midnight. She knew sufficient of the seato understand that the clock was probably accurate, as the course hadpractically followed the same meridian since the _Kansas_ quittedValparaiso. So the ship and those left on board had entered on anotherday! How little she had thought that to be possible when the awfulknowledge first came to her that the _Kansas_ was ashore! How long agowas that? Then she remembe
red that when Courtenay placed her in hiscabin with the promise to bring Isobel to her, she had noticed thetime--eleven o'clock. Was it conceivable that only one hour hadelapsed since she and her four-footed friend were flung all of a heapinto a corner by the impact of the vessel against the sand-bank? Onehour! Surely there was some mistake; she puzzled over the problem,recounting each event since the conclusion of dinner, and finallyconvinced herself that her recollection was not at fault. An hour--oneof eternity's hours! A verse of the 90th Psalm came to her mind:

  "For a thousand years in Thy sight are but as yesterday when it ispast, and as a watch in the night."

  The words had a new and solemn meaning to her. Yesterday was herthousand years--this was her watch in the night--and it would pass as atale that is told. Involuntarily she turned to the bookcase behindher, and took the Bible from the little library of books which she hadlaughingly described as "a curious assortment." It was her intent tofind the psalm containing that awe-inspiring verse, and read the wholeof it, but, in turning over the leaves, she came upon a scrap of paperwith notes on it. The handwriting was scholarly and legible. Shethought that Captain Courtenay would probably write just such a hand.Though her cheeks tingled a little at the memory of the words in hissister's letter, there was no harm in reading a memorandum evidentlyintended to mark a passage in the book. The items were sufficientlystriking:--"Meribah--a place of strife; Selah--a repetition, or sort ofmusical _da capo_."

  This stirred her to seek an explanation. She searched the two pageswhich opened at the marker, and, in the seventh verse of the 81stPsalm, she found the key:

  "Thou calledst in trouble, and I delivered thee; I answered thee in thesecret place of thunder; I proved thee at the waters of Meribah.Selah."

  The phrases were strangely appropriate to her present environment.They were almost prophetic, and there was even a sinister sound in theconcluding instruction to the "chief musician upon Gittith" in thispsalm of Asaph. That was the terrible feature of her vigil. There wasno knowing when or how it would end. She closed the book in a statemore closely approximating to hysterical fright than she had been atany previous time during that most trying night. The truth was, thoughshe could not realize it, that her senses were far too alert, her braintoo preoccupied, to permit of such an ordered task as reading. In hermind's eye, she saw the boats, with their cowering occupants, plungingand tossing in that frenzied sea. By contrast, she was far better offon the ship. Yet, were it not for the action of some cowardly Chilean,she must have gone with Isobel and the others. It was torturing tothink that her fancied security was really more perilous than the moreapparent plight of the storm-tossed boats. No wonder she could notread, though the words were inspired!

  And Joey was becoming restless. He danced backwards and forwards onthe table where he had taken refuge from the invading flood. Indeed,the dog knew, long before Elsie, that the _Kansas_ was afloat again.At last she noticed that the water in the cabin was gurgling to andfro, and, in the same instant, she felt the regular swing of the movingship. She was speculating on the outcome of this new condition ofaffairs when the door opened and Walker thrust his lantern-jawed facewithin. He grinned cheerfully.

  "I've come to fetch you to yo' cabin, miss," he announced. "The ship'sunder weigh, an', as yo' pwobably winging wet, the captain says youought to change yo' clo'es."

  Joey followed her out, but deserted her instantly. She saw the reason,when Walker helped her to reach the bridge companion. Courtenay was inthe chart-house, at the wheel. He gave her a friendly nod as shepassed. Somehow, Elsie felt safe now that the ship was in thecaptain's hands again.