CHAPTER XIII
MISERY MAKES STRANGE BOAT-FELLOWS
IN that sudden strange finding of the truth there was no degradationfor the girl; the degradation was for those who had deceived her.Even Mrs. Ewart-Crane--hard woman of the world that she was--seemedto understand that, and however contemptuous she might be for theamazing innocence of Bessie, she yet seemed to know it for innocence,nevertheless. With a shrug of the shoulders she was the first to makea move to leave the girl and Gilbert together for that explanationthat seemed to be demanded; the others followed suit, a littlesheepishly--Daniel Meggison and Quarle the last to go.
"For my part," said Daniel, looking round, and speaking with an air ofgreat frankness, "I cannot for the life of me see what all the fuss isabout. If a good fellow likes to perform a generous action--what's toprevent him? I hate all this over-squeamishness."
"The less _you_ say the better for everyone," said Simon Quarle,elbowing him out of the way. "You and your precious son are responsiblefor all this trouble; and I've been a weak-kneed idiot not to have puta stop to your games long ago."
"You can leave the precious son out of it, mister," said Aubrey,looking back over his shoulder. "Whatever I've done doesn't concernanybody else; and what father's done has been on account of the family.You never having had a family ain't likely to understand what such aman's feelings may be."
Simon Quarle would have turned back at the last; but he saw that thegirl was standing straight and quiet, with her hands clasped beforeher, staring out at the sea, and evidently waiting until she couldspeak to Gilbert Byfield alone. Gilbert, for his part, watched the girlfurtively, wondering a little what she would say or what she would do.
"Bessie," he said at last gently--"have you nothing to say to me?"
She did not look at him; she strove hard to keep her voice steady. "Howlong will it take us to get back?" she asked.
"To get back?" He looked at her quickly.
"To England. Don't you see for yourself how utterly helpless I am?"she demanded passionately, with a note in her voice he had not heardbefore. "I am a prisoner here; I cannot stir hand or foot to get awayfrom you. Put me on shore--anywhere--and I will walk, if necessary, toget back to London."
"This is rank madness!" he exclaimed. "For Heaven's sake, Bessie, bereasonable, and let us face the situation fairly and squarely. Whatharm have I done you?"
"What harm?" She faced him suddenly, with her hands clenched, andwith eyes that yet had the tears in them blazing at him. "What harm?Don't you understand--or won't you understand--that in all my life noone has ever been able to say that I didn't fight my own way--formyself and others; no one has been able to say that even in my poorfashion I didn't hold up my head--proud to think that I had neverlooked to anyone for a shilling. And you--you of all men on earth--havebeen"--she turned away her head, with the swift colour mounting in herface--"you have kept me!"
"Bessie!"
"It's true!" she flashed at him. "You've lied to me in everything--fedme with smooth words, just as you've fed me and the others with foodyou paid for. The clothes I wear have been bought with your money--andI would rather stand naked before you than have to say it."
"I tell you you don't understand," he pleaded. "It was done for yoursake--and for your sake only. I was rich--and I saw a chance to helpyou, a mere child, and to bring some light and joy into your life. Itwas nothing to me; and you had longed, naturally enough, for things farbeyond your reach. I tell you I was glad to do it."
"I understand perfectly," she said, standing close to him, and lookingat him fearlessly. "I was a toy--something that amused you--a child youwere sorry for. You didn't see that behind the child was the woman, whocould be shamed and outraged and hurt; you never thought of that. Itpleased you to spend money--because money was nothing to you, and wasthe easiest thing you had to part with. And then, to crown it all--thebitterest blow of all--you lied to me, and told me that you loved me."
"Stop!" he cried hastily. "You're wrong there; I swear it. I did loveyou--and I do love you; you are more wonderful to me than any woman Ihave ever met. I've been a brute and a fool, and I haven't understood;but I understand now, and I love you a thousand times more than I everdid before. I've blundered on, not troubling about you, or what becameof you; content only to let each day go on--happy in keeping you inignorance. There are no words bad enough to paint what I've done; butwhat I said to you was true then when I said it, and is more than evertrue now."
She laughed, and flung up her head with a little quick gesture. "Idon't believe it," she said--"but even if it's true it happens thatat least I can spare myself something--can keep some little shred ofself-respect to cover me. I hate you; when I said that I loved you itwas wrong, and it wasn't true. I never want to see you again; I neverwant to have anything to do with you again. Some day, when I've foughtand striven a little, I'll be able to pay you back what I've had fromyou; I shall work for that through all the years that are coming tome--I shall think only of that. That's my last word, Mr. Byfield. Now,if you have any feeling left at all, you will go away, and will let mealone until you can put me on shore. I don't want to stay here longerthan I can help," she added, her voice breaking a little--"becausethere are so many people on this yacht who know all about it, and mustbe laughing at me."
He saw the utter hopelessness of arguing the matter with her; he turnedaway. At the same time there was, naturally enough, in his mind abitter feeling of resentment that the matter should have ended in thisway; for after all it must be remembered that, even with that madimpulse which had started the business, the mad impulse had been a goodone, and had only been thwarted by others. The man had done his best,however mistakenly, and he bitterly resented the very natural attitudethe girl took up. He was chafing with futile rage at the position inwhich he found himself, and in which he had placed her, when her voicerecalled him.
"Mr. Byfield--you have not told me how soon we can go back," shereminded him coldly. "Surely you understand that I have done with allthis"--she gave a comprehensive sweep of her hands to indicate theyacht and all about it--"and that I want to get back to some such sortof Arcadia Street as that in which you found me."
He came slowly back to her; he looked at her steadily. "I'm not goingback," he said. "You don't understand that, whatever I may have done,and however mistaken I may be, you're treating me very unfairly. I'llchange nothing to which I've set my hand; I'll go back in my own goodtime. These other people came on board for their own purposes; I'll notbe at the beck and call of anyone now that those purposes are finished.I've done everything for the best, and whether I have failed or notdoesn't affect the matter. More than that, although you won't listen tome I love you, and I don't mean to give you up. It's you and I, Bessie,against the world, and against all these other people; you shan't goback to any Arcadia Street if I can help it."
"I'll find my own way back," she exclaimed passionately. "I havenothing further to do with you; you don't touch my life at all. Youmust take me back to England."
"I will not," he replied obstinately; and with those final words lefther.
Strange as it may appear, for two whole days the situation remainedunchanged. Gilbert held practically no communication with anyone onboard, save with Bessie, to whom occasionally he sent a note by thediscreet hands of Pringle. But though she read the notes, and thoughover the first of them at least she wavered a little, she neversent any reply, and the notes themselves, in fragments, were tossedoverboard. But on the evening of the second day after that disclosureof the truth, Mr. Tant literally forced his way into the presence ofGilbert, and demanded to know what was going to happen.
"My dear Gilbert," he exclaimed--"I can really stand it no longer.Mrs. Ewart-Crane, fortunately for all of us (though Heaven forgiveme for saying so) has been extremely ill again, or she would in allprobability have demanded to see you; Enid, I regret to say, hasmerely become sulky. Don't think that I blame her for a moment; in herposition anyone might be excused for doing the same. The other peopled
o not concern me, and so I have not troubled about them; but I wouldmerely observe that the elder Meggison appears to be making a franticattempt to drink himself to death, thanks to the services of theobliging Pringle. Something's got to be done--and quickly."
"There is one person in command of this vessel, and of the situation,"replied Gilbert. "That person is Miss Meggison; and when she deignsto look at the matter from the proper standpoint, and practically totake no notice of any of those persons who have forced their way onto the yacht, we shall know what we are going to do. I am perfectlycomfortable, and unless Miss Meggison moves in the matter the situationmust solve itself."
So Mr. Jordan Tant, shaking his head desolately, went off to findBessie. As a matter of fact he was a little afraid of her, because ofthe extraordinary position that a girl of her origin had taken up; itwas clearly against anything he had ever understood concerning peopleof her class. He approached her in the politest fashion, and pleadedwith her to do something in the matter.
"I have been speaking to our friend Byfield, Miss Meggison," saidMr. Tant--"and I may be said to be a sort of reluctant ambassador.Personally I do not like the sea; there is not that stability about itthat I require for my actual comfort; if you come to that, I think noneof us here really like the sea; we should all like to go back safely todry land. Now--what do you say?"
"I have already told Mr. Byfield that I want to go back to England,"said Bessie.
"Excellent! I am sure that our friend Byfield does not reallyunderstand the situation. Perhaps you have not explained the matterclearly."
"I have explained it very clearly--but Mr. Byfield absolutely refusesto go back," said Bessie. "The matter is not in my hands, as you appearto think; I am a prisoner here just the same as you are. Here is myfather; perhaps you had better speak to him about it."
"Personally I don't see that there's anything to discuss," said DanielMeggison, airily stepping into the conversation. "Our good friendByfield--owner of this charming yacht--prefers as an idle man to takea cruise on summer seas. I, as another idle man, am delighted toaccompany him--and my daughter is included in the party. I confessthere are certain people on board who have forced themselves, as itwere, into the original scheme of things; but the vessel is a largeone, and we may safely ignore them. Personally, I'm very comfortable,and I decline to question the motives of my friend Byfield in any way.Excellent fellow, Byfield--lavish with his money."
"You hear what my father says," said Bessie, with a little note ofcontempt in her voice. "Surely you can want nothing else. I don't countat all, you see; all the other people have to be reckoned with first."
Mr. Tant went away, but did not return to Gilbert. Instead he spentsome hours in going about between Mrs. Ewart-Crane and Enid andSimon Quarle--putting questions to them, with his head very much onone side, and speaking always in a plaintive tone. Those questionsresolved themselves simply into--What ought a fellow to do undercertain exasperating circumstances?--Wouldn't it be better to appoint acommittee, or something of that kind, to take charge of things? Failingto get any satisfaction from any quarter, Mr. Tant took his sorrows tothe cheerful Pringle, who seemed to suggest that there was nothing verymuch to worry about.
"Bless you, sir--so long as you're in comfortable quarters I don'tthink it matters much, sir, whether you're afloat or whether you'reashore. You've got to pass the time somehow, and you may as well makethe best of things as they happen along, sir. Nice vessel, sir--an'company nice and varied; some of 'em swears at you, an' some of 'emcomplains about things--an' nobody seems just at the moment to beabsolutely wild with joy. But Lor', sir, anything might happen to cheereverybody up at a moment's notice. Anything I can do for you, sir?"
Mr. Tant went away, feeling more miserable than ever. Coming on deck,he found that it was growing dark, and that a soft uncomfortable rainwas falling; the wind had dropped to nothing. He wondered despondentlywhere they were, or for what port they were bound; he had not troubledto ask about such matters as that at all. Finally he went below, andcurled himself up in a corner of the saloon, and went to sleep.
He was awakened from that sleep by a sudden violent shock that flunghim full upon his face upon the carpet. He scrambled up, hearing abovehim a great noise of running feet, and the shouts of men, and once theagitated scream of a woman. He got the door of the saloon open, andwent off along a corridor that seemed to slope in an unaccountablefashion in search of Mrs. Ewart-Crane's cabin. He met Enid at the doorof it.
"What's the matter?" she asked. "Everything in the cabin seems to beupside down."
"I don't know," responded Mr. Tant, with his teeth chattering--"but Ishould say that we'd bumped into something."
Mr. Tant left her, and went along that corridor that slopedunpleasantly on his way to the deck. At the foot of the companionhe collided with Pringle, who apologized, and beamed upon him ascheerfully as ever.
"Shouldn't be a bit surprised, sir, if we wasn't all goin' to thebottom," said Pringle, with a grin. "This way, sir; take my arm, sir."
They scrambled on deck in a pitchy darkness of fog and a blur of rain,to see dim figures moving swiftly about the deck, and to hear a voiceabove them crying orders. The deck sloped as much as the corridor haddone, and at quite as unpleasant an angle; somewhere near at hand theyheard Gilbert's voice speaking sharply to the captain.
"It means taking to the boats, sir," shouted the voice above. "Plentyof time, if things are done quietly; the men are all standing by.Better get your friends on deck, sir."
That suggestion was more easily made than carried out. Mrs. Stocker,for instance, was in a great state of hysteria, and was clinging tolittle Mr. Stocker, something to his suffocation. She insisted uponbeing taken on deck, and at the same time vigorously resisted everyeffort to get her there. Mr. Daniel Meggison wept, and wrung hishands, and bawled for life-belts; Aubrey, with all the bravado goneout of him, stood still, and plucked at his lips, and stared intothe blackness of the night, terror-stricken. Mrs. Ewart-Crane andher daughter clung together; but Enid, to do her justice, was quitecomposed, and spoke sharply once to Mr. Tant when that gentlemandemanded to know if anybody was ever going to do anything.
Simon Quarle found the hand he wanted in the darkness, and gripped it."Well, Bessie--are you afraid?" he whispered.
"No--not afraid," she said steadily. "If only father would be quiet; wecan't do any good by shouting."
"Life-belts!" bellowed Daniel Meggison. "Oh--my God!--are there nolife-belts on this rotten old hulk? Life-belts!"
The yacht was settling down slowly but steadily; there was nothingfor it but to take to the boats. Some provisions were put in--the menhurrying hither and thither, answering cheerfully to the orders giventhem, and standing in their places without disorder. The only confusionwas among the passengers; when their boat was at last ready, Daniel andhis son scuffled together feebly for a moment or two, even with blows,in an attempt to get into the boat first.
Now, just how it happened that in the confusion that boat went offwith the passengers only in it--the Stockers and the Ewart-Cranes, theMeggisons and Quarle, and Tant and Gilbert--will never be known. At thelast moment Gilbert called out to know if Pringle was there; and thecheery voice of the man answered him; and Pringle, following the voice,stepped into his place.
"Nice smooth sea, sir," said Pringle, as he took an oar.
The other boats were being manned; to the last, as they pulled away,they heard the steady voice of the captain calling orders. Gilbertand Pringle and Simon Quarle pulled steadily; the women were huddledin the stern, and one of them at least was whimpering. Gradually thenight seemed to close in above them and about them; gradually it seemedthat they were left more and more alone on the gently heaving sea. Atlast--minutes after, as it seemed--there was a sound of rending andtearing upon rocks--and then a splash of waters; then all was still.
"She's gone," said Gilbert, drawing a long breath.
They pulled slowly, waiting for the dawn; no one seemed inclined tospeak. Daniel Meggison slu
mbered a little, murmuring in his sleep;Mrs. Julia Stocker also appeared to sleep, pillowing her head upon Mr.Stocker, who seemed to strive to make her as comfortable as he could.She murmured more than once of Clapham.
Gilbert strove to pierce the darkness to catch a glimpse of Bessie. Hethought he knew where she sat--upright and slim and steady; he wonderedof what she was thinking, out there in the darkness--remembered witha pang how far she was from that quiet Arcadia Street in which he hadfound her. Then gradually, from sheer exhaustion, he nodded a littlehimself, even while he kept his oar moving rhythmically. And the dawngrew at last in the sky, and shed its grey light upon them--thatstrange little company in an open boat upon the sea.
That little company woke gradually to the full meaning of theirsituation. Mrs. Stocker, shuddering, was absolutely certain that she"looked a fright"; Mr. Edward Stocker passed a sort of damp complimentto her concerning her appearance. Mrs. Ewart-Crane had withdrawnherself a little, with her daughter, from the commoner company; Enidmight have been observed holding the hand of Jordan Tant. DanielMeggison, for his part, more than once put the lives of them all inperil by standing up in the boat, holding on to the person nearest him,and declaring that he distinctly saw land; after such an exhibition hewas usually hauled down unceremoniously by the coat-tails by his son.
"Got any notion where we are?" growled Simon Quarle over his shoulderto Gilbert.
"Not the slightest," replied Byfield in the same tone. "As a matter offact, I didn't trouble very much about the direction we were takingduring the past few days."
"Then we must hope for luck--and cheer up the women," said Quarle,bending to his oar again.
"It might help a bit, sir, if I was to serve out breakfast," saidPringle, looking back over his shoulder. "It isn't much, sir; but itmight well be less. At the worst, it'll keep us going for a day or two,sir."
"Go ahead then--but be sparing," said Gilbert.
"Very good, sir," replied Pringle cheerfully; and proceeded to hand outmiscellaneous provisions forthwith.
"I feel that I am a citizen of the world," said Daniel Meggison, bitinga biscuit, and looking round upon his fellow-voyagers. "Anything mighthappen to me--anything may happen; but at least I shall have warmedboth hands at the fire of life."
"That's about the only fire you ever will warm your hands at, Dad, Ishould think," retorted Aubrey. "Beastly chilly on the sea at thistime of the morning." He flogged himself viciously with his arms ashe spoke. "Besides, how anybody can be cheerful under these horriblecircumstances licks me. Biscuits--and tinned things--and water!"
"Water is certainly a drawback, but I believe thirst is even worse,"said Mr. Meggison.
"If Mr. Stocker and I were at home now we should at least be having acomfortable breakfast," said Mrs. Stocker, shivering. "I do hope thatgirl is looking after the house; ten chances to one she won't havedusted the place since last I set foot in it. I wonder what'll happenif we all go to the bottom of the sea? I wonder if she'll stop at thehouse, and hope for us to come back."
"Let us hope, on our own accounts, that we shall go back, my dear,"said Mr. Stocker. "After all, we're not the worst off by any means," headded, lowering his voice. "Mr. Byfield, for instance--think what he'slost. All that great vessel gone to the bottom of the sea."
"Well, he ought to have had more sense than to go tearing over theocean, and bumping into things in the dark the way he did," snappedMrs. Stocker.
"I don't know whether you noticed, ma'am," said Daniel Meggisongenially, as he turned to Mrs. Ewart-Crane, "that about a fortnightago, in one of the Sunday papers, there was an account of a shipwreckedcrew--provisions exhausted--who decided to draw lots as to which ofthem should be killed to provide sustenance for the remainder. It fellto the cook----"
"I do not read the Sunday papers, sir," said Mrs. Ewart-Crane, turningher back upon him.
"That's a pity," he retorted, nothing abashed. "They seemed to find thecook somewhat reluctant, but finally overcame his scruples, and werejust deciding how best to dispose his person among the crew--to dividehim up, in fact, ma'am--when there was a cry from one of the numberthat a vessel was in sight. So the cook escaped. Highly interestingnarrative, ma'am."
"Even in the small compass of this boat, sir, you will find that it ismore convenient to draw the line, if I may use the expression, betweenclass and class," said Mr. Jordan Tant icily. "Because a lady iscompelled to sit upon the same seat with you in a boat on the open seais no reason why you should force your conversation upon her. It isn'tdone, sir."
"Confound your impudence!" exclaimed Daniel Meggison, starting tohis feet. But Aubrey promptly pulled him down again, and he retired,muttering, into the depths of his large frock-coat, the collar of whichhe had turned up about his ears.
A mist had settled down again over the sea. They pulled on and onsteadily, with no definite purpose in their minds as to what was tohappen to them. But presently, amid a silence that had fallen upon themall (for even Daniel Meggison had given up conversation as hopelessunder the circumstances), Gilbert leaned forward and spoke to SimonQuarle.
"I can hear the sound of waves breaking on rocks," he said. "I thoughtI heard it just now; but now I'm certain."
They rested upon their oars, and listened; the sound was unmistakable.Everyone sat up, and began to offer suggestions as to where theywere, and what the land was likely to be; the three rowers settledagain to their work. And now the sound grew louder and louder, untilpresently, jutting up out of the mist, was a grey shadow that wascertainly land--a grey shadow that presently resolved itself into asloping shore, with white crested waves breaking upon it. They pulledcautiously, looking for an opening; Daniel Meggison was with difficultyrestrained from leaping to his feet and shouting.
"For my part, I do hope there'll be somebody that can speak theEnglish language," said Mrs. Stocker. "Also I hope there won't be anyunnecessary bumping when we do land. I remember when I was a girl atBrighton when we were run up on the beach in a very nice boat----"
The speech was cut short by the boat that moment taking ground gently;the three men sprang out, and began to haul it up on the sloping shore.One by one the cramped passengers were handed out over the seats;they stood on a desolate shore, without any sign of human habitationanywhere, and looked about them forlornly.
"Looks to me very much like an island, sir," said Pringle cheerfully.
"By all the rules of the game it certainly ought to be an island," saidDaniel Meggison.