The Castle Of The Shadows

  CHAPTER X

  "ONCE ON BOARD THE LUGGER"

  It was Roger Broom's voice which sent across the water that ominous shoutso appalling to Trent's ears. Mechanically George swam toward the placewhere the dark head had risen, but as he took his first stroke a secondhead appeared beside the other, then both went down together.

  That moment concentrated more of anguish for George Trent than all theyears of his past life had held. He believed that both Roger and Maximehad almost before his eyes suffered the most hideous death possible toimagine, and he knew that at any instant he might share their fate. Butthat thought no longer shook him as before. Since the others had died sohorribly it would be well that he should die too. A moment of sharpagony, and all would be over. Better so, since he could not go back toVirginia or to Madeleine Dalahaide alone.

  His eyes strained despairingly over the cruel glitter of the ripplingsea, with a cold, vague feeling that he had reached the edge of theworld, and was looking over into the dim mystery of the next. He wasyoung and vigorous, and had loved life for its own sake; but, with Rogerand Dalahaide both dead, there was no longer a full-blooded craving forhelp to save himself in his mind as he gazed toward the yacht and theFrench boat. Instead he wondered with a sickly curiosity how long itwould be before the filthy brutes, which had put an end to hiscompanions, would make a meal of him, and whether it would hurt much, orif unconsciousness would come soon. Mechanically he swam on, more or lessin the direction of the _Bella Cuba_ and the French boat, which were atclose quarters now; and perhaps there was a scarcely defined hope in hisheart that a stray shot might finish him before the hideous "guardians ofthe Ile Nou" found their chance.

  The state of his own brain and nerves became a matter of cold surpriseto him; the suspense without fear, though tingling with physical dread,and the capacity for separation of emotions. He found himself thinking ofVirginia, and pitying her. This would break her heart, he told himself.She would have a morbid feeling that she was to blame for the disaster;that she had caused the death of her brother and cousin, and the otherman so strangely important in her life of late. He wished that he mighttalk to her, and tell her not to mind, because it was not in the leasther fault, and she had done nothing but good.

  Then he began to wonder why the yacht and the French boat had ceasedfiring. The latter had only two guns, while the _Bella Cuba_ had four,and, as he had said to Roger a few minutes (or was it years?) ago, shewas but a poor "makeshift," rigged up more as a kind of "scarecrow" for_forcats_ meditating escape than for actual service. Still, she mustcarry at least ten or twelve rounds of ammunition. Could it be that thelittle _Bella Cuba_ had contrived to knock a hole in her hull, and thather men must choose between beaching her immediately or having her sink?It looked as if this explanation might be the right one, for she wascertainly retiring, and that with haste. To beach she must go round thepoint whence she had come in, approaching the lagoon, and this she wasdoing, the yacht having no more to say to her.

  "The Frenchies know what their sea-wolves have done," George thoughtgrimly, "and so they can afford to let things slide and save themselves.No good sending out a boat and trying to pick up their man under the noseof the enemy, for the poor fellow's gone where neither friends nor foescan get him. The episode is closed. And all the _Bella Cuba_ wanted wasto put the prison boat out of the running. There's no good beingvindictive. I could get to her now, if I liked--provided those bruteswould let me. But it's impossible--I won't think of it. Afterward Ishould loathe myself for being a coward and going back to life withoutthe others. I couldn't have helped them--but it would seem as if I mighthave, and didn't. Heavens! When is this going to end? I can't bear itlong. The best thing I could do would be to drown myself like a man, andget it over before the worst can happen."

  He flung up his arms, meaning to sink, and wondering whether it would bereally possible for a strong swimmer deliberately to drown himself, orwhether instinct would keep on countermanding the brain's orders, untilexhaustion did its work. One last look at the world he gave before theplunge, and that look showed him a thing which he could not believe.Between him and the black horns of the outer reef he saw once more twodark heads close together.

  "It can't be!" Trent said to himself; nevertheless, instead of flingingaway life, with all his strength he struck out lustily toward thosefloating dots in the water. Then, suddenly, something cold and solidrubbed against his leg. How the knowledge of what it was and what to docame to him so quickly, and how he acted upon that knowledge swiftlyalmost as light moves, he could not have told; but he knew that a sharkwas after him; he knew that it must turn over on its back in the waterbefore the cavernous, fang-set jaws could crunch his bone and flesh, andlike a flash he dived. Queerly, as he shot down through the water, hethought again of something outside the desperate need ofself-preservation. "This is what happened when I saw their heads go downbefore and supposed it was all up with them both!" he said to himself."That's what they are supposing about me now, if they're looking my way.Well, we shall see. It's going to be a race between this infernal bruteand me. I'd bet on him--but the dark horse sometimes gets in."

  After that he had no more consecutive thoughts. Primitive instinct guidedhim, and hope was the light which marked the goal. The others were notdead yet, so he had a right to his life, if he could keep it; and towardthat end he strained, swimming as he had never swum before, diving,darting this way and that, feeling rather than seeing which spot toavoid, which to strive for. At last his foot touched rock. He had reachedthat part of the jagged coral-reef which rose out of the sea. He ceasedto swim, and found that slipping, sliding, stumbling on a surface, whichfelt to clinging hands and feet as if coated with ice, and smeared withsoap, he could scramble up to a point above water. He got to his knees,then to his feet, and as he stood up, dripping and dizzy, a shout came tohim. Roger's voice again!--but no longer sharp with horror and loathing.There he stood on another low peak of the reef, and Dalahaide was besidehim, slimmer, taller, and straighter than he, as the two figures weredarkly outlined against the light.

  They were safe, at least from the sharks; and from the _Bella Cuba_ aboat with four rowers was swiftly approaching. The reaction of joy afterthe resignation of despair was almost too great. George Trent's throatcontracted with a sob, and there was a stinging of his eyelids which wasnot caused by the salt of the sea.

  "Hurrah!" he cried out, waving his hand to the two men on the reef, andto the rowers in the boat. While his shout still rang in the air a_canot_, such as that in which they had crossed from Noumea to the IleNou, manned by twelve rowers, leaped round the point of rock behindwhich the French boat had disappeared, and came straight as an arrow forthe reef on which the three men stood.

  Now it was a race once more for life and death. The yacht's boat had thestart, but those twenty-four oars carried the _canot_, heavy as it was,far faster through the water. The _Bella Cuba_ could not use her cannonlest she should destroy her own friends, so nearly did the two boatscross each other as both from, different directions, sped toward the samegoal.

  The yachtsmen's blood was up, and they worked like heroes, but they werefour to twelve. The _canot_ shot ahead and got the inside track. Therace, as a race, could now have but one end. The _canot_ was bound to befirst at the spot where the runaway _forcat_ and one of his Englishfriends stood side by side out of reach of the hungry sharks, but notbeyond the grasp of justice. The fugitives, who had fought so long withthe sea, were unarmed, while the four surveillants in the _canot_ hadrevolvers, and would either recapture or kill.

  But Maxime Dalahaide spoke a word to his companion; and, as if thetriumph of the _canot_ over the yacht's boat had been a signal, the twosprang from the shelf of the reef into the sea. George Trent knew wellwhat was in their minds; they preferred to risk being food for sharks tocertain capture; and without hesitating for an instant, George followedtheir example. If they could swim under water to the yacht's boat beforethe sharks took up the prison cause, all was not yet lost, for the boa
twould do its best to dodge the _canot_ while the _Bella Cuba's_ cannonseized their chance to work once more.

  George kept under water as long as he could, then came up to breathe andventure a glance round. Crack! went a pistol-shot close to his head, andhe dived again; but not before he had seen the yacht's boat not thirtyyards off. How near the _canot_ lay he had not been able to informhimself, but the narrow shave he had just had gave him a hint that itcould not be far distant. He aimed for the boat as well as he couldjudge, felt an ominous, cold touch, dived deeper for a shark, forgedahead again, trying to forget the double danger, came up to breathebecause he must, and could have yelled for joy, if he had had breathenough in his lungs, to see that either Roger or Maxime was being pulledinto the yacht's boat, while a second head bobbed on the water a coupleof yards away. The air cracked with revolver-shots, but George was notthe target now: the eyes of the surveillants were for the fugitivesnearest safety. Whether Roger or Dalahaide were hit, George could nottell, but he kept his head above water in sheer self-forgetfulness untilboth had been hauled on board. Then he dived again, and when he rose tothe surface he was close to the boat. It was his turn to be helped overthe side and to become a target. Something whizzed past his ear, leavingit hot and wet, and he had a sudden burning pain in his left arm; butnothing mattered, for there were Roger and Maxime, and he was besidethem. The rowers had set to their work with a will once more, not toreach the _Bella Cuba_ with the best speed, but to dodge from between herguns and the _canot_. Once she could let her cannon speak, the _canot_was no longer to be feared. Brave as the Frenchmen were, clearly as theyhad right on their side, from their point of view, they would have torecognize that they were helpless, that the rest of the battle was to thestrong.

  A moment more, and one of the little cannon roared a warning. She did nottry to hit the _canot_; the message she sent was but to say, "Hands off,or take the consequences." And the men of the _canot_ understood. Notonly did they cease firing, but began to retire with leisurely dignitytoward the point which hid the disabled prison boat.

  Now, suddenly, when all such peril was over, the thought of that slimy,cold touch on his flesh, and what it had meant, turned George Trent sick.He did not see how he or his friends had escaped the horror. If it wereto come again he was sure that escape would be impossible; and somehow heknew, as if by prevision, that there would be nights so long as he livedwhen he would dream of that touch in the water, and wrench himself awake,with sweat on his forehead and his hands damp.

  "Roger, are you all right, and Dalahaide, too?" he asked, wondering atthe weight he felt on his chest and the effort it was to speak.

  "Thanks to Dalahaide, I am all right," Roger answered. "If it hadn't beenfor his quickness and presence of mind, twice I should have been nabbedby a shark. Weak as he was, he pulled me down for a dive that I shouldhave been too dazed to think of without him."

  "I have cause enough to know something of these waters and their danger,"Maxime said slowly, as if he too found it an effort to speak. "I wasweak, yes, but strength comes of great need, I suppose; and already Iowed you so much. I had to think and act quickly; besides, it was formyself too."

  "Thank heaven it's all over," exclaimed Roger, with a great sigh. "We'vea good doctor on board. He'll know how to make you fit once we have youthere. And that will be shortly now. See, here's the yacht! In tenminutes you'll be in the stateroom that has been ready for you ever sincewe left Mentone a few hundred years ago, bound for New Caledonia."

  "Yes, your passage was engaged from the first," chuckled George, with anodd little catch in his voice that would have been hysterical if he hadbeen a woman. "And I'll bet something you'll like your quarters. Twolovely ladies took a lot of trouble with them--your sister and mine."

  "I don't know what to say, or how to thank you," stammered Maxime. "Itgoes so far beyond words."

  "Just try to _live_ your thanks, if you think they're worth while. Ireckon that's what our two sisters would say on the subject. Don't letthere be any more talk about dying like there was to-day, that's all, youknow. And oh, by Jove! doesn't it feel queer to be gabbling this way,when you remember what we've just come out of--those grinning brutes downthere, with their red mouths in their white shirt fronts, so to speak.Ugh! I don't want to think of it, but I'm hanged if I can help it. I say,did those Johnnies' revolvers do any damage here?"

  "Dalahaide got a bullet in his shoulder, as if the wound in his backwasn't enough to remember the place by," said Roger. "He says it'snothing, and I hope that's the truth" (he actually did hope it now, atleast for the moment); "as for me, I believe they've saved the yacht'sbarber a little trouble in cutting my hair on the left side, that's all;luckily no harm done to any of our men."

  All these scraps of conversation had been flung backward and forwardinside five minutes. Then they were at the yacht's side. Maxime, forcedto yield to his own weakness in the reaction now, was being helped onboard, the others following.

  A slim, white figure, ethereal and spirit-like in the sheen of the moon,was waiting to give them welcome. Virginia stood on deck, weeping andlaughing, Dr. Grayle by her side.

  "Thank heaven! Thank heaven!" she sobbed at sight of Maxime. The cry wasfor him, the look, the tears, the clasped hands, all for him. Roger andGeorge came together for her in a second thought, and Roger knew; thoughhe was not surprised, because he had guessed her secret, such joy ofsuccess as even he, being a man, had felt, was blotted out for him.

  * * * * *

  Down below, locked into their staterooms, Lady Gardiner and the Countessde Mattos had passed a strange and terrible hour, each in a differentway.

  To Kate there was little mystery, though much fear. She had sulkily shutherself up, and, not dreaming what was appointed for the night, hadfinally dropped asleep, while meditating reprisals for the bad treatmentshe had received that day. But though her suspicions had not gone as faras an actual rescue in dramatic fashion, with the first shot from theprison boat which woke her from a sound sleep, she divined what washappening. Bounding from her berth, while hardly yet awake, she darted toher porthole, which was wide open. It faced the wrong way to afford her aglimpse of what was going on, but she could hear more firing at adistance, doubtless at the prison on the Ile Nou, the ringing of bells,and much tramping overhead on the deck of the yacht. She felt the throbof the engine too, and though the _Bella Cuba_ had been lying quietly atanchor in the harbour when Kate had fallen asleep, now she was moving ata rapid rate through the water, which gurgled past her sides.

  Kate had known, of course, that they had not come thousands of miles fornothing, and the moment she was certain that New Caledonia was to be the_Bella Cuba's_ destination she realized that an attempt would be made tosave Maxime Dalahaide. She had been anxious to earn the other half of theMarchese Loria's money, and at the same time to pay Virginia and GeorgeTrent for their secretiveness, by letting Loria hear of their arrival, atleast, even if she could tell him no more. That desire had been thwartedby Dr. Grayle, but Kate considered the act merely postponed. Next timethey coaled--since they must coal somewhere before long--she wouldcertainly find a way of wiring to Loria, and probably she would havesomething much more definite to tell him, that was all. Exactly what that"something" might be, had been rather vague in her mind; but she hadthought that Virginia, George, and Roger would most likely have foundmeans to communicate with Dalahaide and give him hope for the future;perhaps they might even try to put in his hands some means of escape,after which the _Bella Cuba_ would linger about in these waters, out ofsight of New Caledonia, until he either succeeded in getting away orfailed signally to do so. This plan Kate had considered not beyond thebounds of possibility; or (she had told herself) Virginia, who was soenormously, absurdly rich, might be counting upon bribing some lesserprison authority to help the convict to escape. So daring a girl, sure ofthe power of beauty and wealth, and with millions of pounds to play with,might have conceived such a scheme and have the boldness to carry it out.She could
offer any bribe she liked, and--every man was said to have hisprice. It was conceivable now to Kate that Virginia and MadeleineDalahaide had had confidences together, and that the mysterious lockedstateroom had been specially fitted up for the benefit of the prodigal.It would be like Virginia to have made such a wild plan, and to persuadeRoger Broom and George Trent to aid her in carrying it out; yet Kate hadnot guessed to what desperate lengths they would be ready to go. She hadforgotten about the yacht's cannon; but when she heard the shot from theFrench boat she suddenly remembered them, and wondered, in great terror,whether they would be put to use. She realized that the trio meant tostop at nothing to gain their end and that this end was to have MaximeDalahaide out of prison at any cost to themselves and others.

  Into the midst of her confused deductions broke the yell of a shot fromone of the yacht's guns. It was as if the _Bella Cuba_ were alive and hadgiven a tiger-spring out of the water. Kate shrieked with fear, andstaggered away from the porthole. Her first thought was to run out of thestateroom and seek refuge somewhere--anywhere. But, with her hand on thebolt with which she had fastened the door, she realized that she was assafe where she was as she could be elsewhere, in the dreadfulcircumstances--perhaps safer. But she was in deadly terror. As a roarfrom the French boat was answered by another roar from the yacht, whichagain shivered and leaped like a wounded thing, her knees gave way underher, and she half fell, half crouched on the floor of the stateroom,shuddering and moaning. The danger seemed as appalling, as hopeless toescape from, as an earthquake which, go where you would, might tearasunder the ground under your feet and bury you alive.

  It was clear that the _Bella Cuba_ and the strange, ugly-lookingsteamboat she had seen in the harbour, with its two unmasked cannon, werewaging fierce war upon one another. For all that Lady Gardiner knew,Dalahaide was already on board, and the prison boat was giving chase; yetthat could not be true, surely, for suddenly the yacht's engines ceasedto move; it was as if her heart had stopped beating. Had the _Bella Cuba_been struck? Was she sinking? Even if not, one of those horriblecannon-balls might come crashing into the yacht's side at any moment,and every one on board might be instantly killed.

  Kate knew not what to do; whether to remain where she was, or to crawlout into the cabin and try to find some one--even the hateful doctor--whowould tell her how great the danger was, and what one must do to be savedfrom it. She forgot all about Loria, and Dalahaide, and her manygrievances, and only knew that she wished to be spared from death, nomatter whose schemes failed or succeeded, or who else lived or died.

  The Countess de Mattos had not been asleep. Her headache, perhaps, hadkept her nerves at high tension, and made rest impossible. As she hadconfessed to Virginia early that morning, on discovering the name of thenext landing-place, she did not like New Caledonia. The thought of theplace, and the secrets it must hold, oppressed her. She wondered, with akind of disagreeable fascination which invariably forced her weary mindback to the same subject, whether the convicts' life was very terrible;whether they lived long in this land of exile, or whether they werenotoriously short-lived. The climate must be trying, and then there werecountless hardships to endure--hardships which must be less bearable tothose who had known luxury and refinements. She did not like to dwellupon anything that was painful or even sordid; and when memory persistedin dragging before her reluctant eyes the dead body of any particularlyhateful scene in her past, as a cat will sometimes obstinately lay beforeits master a rat it has mangled, she was in the habit of dulling hersensibility by drinking a little absinthe in which some chlorodyne hadbeen dropped.

  When she travelled, she always carried two or three bottles of the liquorwith her, wrapped in laces and cambric, in her luggage, for she had grownused to it, and could hardly support life without its soothing influencenow. She was careful not to take too much, however, for she worshippedher own beauty; and absinthe was an enemy to a woman's complexion.

  She felt to-night, lying in the harbour of Noumea, as she had feltsometimes during a furious _sirocco_ in Sicily--restless, unnerved,fearful of some vague evil, though common sense assured her that nothingof the kind she dimly pictured could possibly happen. She remembereduncomfortable things more vividly and painfully than usual, too; and, atlast, she could deny herself the wished-for solace no longer. She rosefrom her berth, trailing exquisite silk and lace (for the woman mustalways frame her beauty worthily, even for her own eyes alone), pouredout half a glass of absinthe, dropped in her allowance of the drug, addedwater, till the mixture looked like liquid opal, and sipped the beveragewith a kind of dainty greed.

  In a few minutes she had ceased to care whether the _Bella Cuba_ lay inthe harbour of Noumea or off Sydney Heads. What did it matter? What harmcould come?

  Presently, lying in her berth, dreamily staring out at the moonlightthrough the open porthole, her lovely arms pillowing her head, theCountess became aware that the yacht was moving. So they were getting outto sea again, she told herself. A little while ago she would have beendelighted, as if at an escape, because, as she had said, Noumea washateful, and no place for pleasure-seekers. But now that the absinthe andchlorodyne soothed her nerves she was comparatively indifferent whetherthey stopped or steamed away. Nothing unpleasant had happened. Of coursenot; why should it? She had racked her nerves, and given herself aheadache all in vain. Still, it was good to know that she would see nomore of that terrible land of beauty and despair.

  She shut her eyes comfortably, and was on the way to the more welcomeland of sleep when the boom of the gun, which had wakened Lady Gardiner,roused her from her lotus mood of soft forgetfulness--the greatest joywhich she could ever know.

  Her brain was dazed with the liquor and the drug she had taken, and shewas utterly unable to comprehend the tumult and confusion which followed.

  Kate Gardiner had a clue to the mystery which the Countess de Mattos didnot possess. The Portuguese beauty had no means of guessing what hadbrought the _Bella Cuba_ to Noumea. She had never heard any one on boardspeak the name of Dalahaide, or that of any convict imprisoned at NewCaledonia, and the firing between the yacht and the French boat suggestednothing to her but horror.

  She, too, was afraid, half-stunned with fear, and she was angry withherself now for having taken the absinthe and chlorodyne, because theyprevented her from thinking clearly--the very thing which, a short timeago, she had wished not to do. At first she lay still, burying her headin the pillows; then she murmured prayers to more than one saint, for shewas an ardent Catholic; and at last, unable to bear the suspense andisolation any longer, she threw open the stateroom door and ran out intothe cabin.

  No one was there; but above the sound of trampling overhead she thoughtshe could distinguish voices, and Virginia Beverly's was among them. IfVirginia were on deck, the Countess said in her mind, it would be wellfor her to be there too.