The Castle Of The Shadows

  CHAPTER IX

  A CRY ACROSS THE WATER

  It was night in the harbour of Noumea; a night of pitiless, white,revealing moonlight which sharpened the black outline of every shadow,and made the whitewashed wall of each low house gleam likemother-o'-pearl. Had there been no secret business on foot, VirginiaBeverly's beauty-loving soul would have been on its knees in worship ofthe scene as she sat on the deck of the yacht, which seemed not to floatin water, but to hang suspended in the transparent, mingling azure of seaand sky. To her the moon was an enemy, cruel and terrible. She would havegiven her right hand for a dark curtain cloud to be drawn across thatblazing lamp and the scintillating stars reflected in the water likesequins shining through blue gauze.

  Midnight was near, and the yellow lights of the town were fewer thanthey had been. The quay was quiet and deserted, and the Ile Nou was ablack shape in the translucent glitter of the water. On the _Bella Cuba_all was very still, and each whisper of the little waves that lappedagainst the side of the yacht came distinctly to Virginia's ears.

  The Countess de Mattos had not appeared at dinner, but had sent excuses,her head being much worse. But it was Virginia's opinion that, once outof sight of Noumea, the lady intended to be convalescent. Kate Gardineralso was in retirement, and had for once shown temper even to Virginia;but Dr. Grayle's report of the day was reassuring, and as Kate had had noopportunity of doing harm, even if she had wished it, she and hergrievances were dismissed from Virginia's mind in these supreme moments.

  Her eyes were straining after a small electric launch, which was alreadydistant. Virginia could not look away, and still she tried to persuadeherself that she could not see the little black gliding thing distinctly,because, if it was plainly visible to her, it must be so to other eyesalso--if eyes on shore were waking and watching now.

  Suddenly the boat disappeared behind a buttress of rock silhouetted onthe silver track of the moon, and at the same instant the yacht's anchorbegan slowly to be hauled up.

  Virginia knew what that meant. To-night's work was for Roger and George,not for her; but she had each detail of the programme at her fingers'ends--indeed, had helped to arrange it. When the launch had gone acertain distance from the _Bella Cuba_, on its stealthy way toward theIle Nou, the yacht's captain--an Englishman, discreet and expert--hadorders to follow slowly. The start had not been made earlier, because itwas desirable that town and prison should be asleep, and the danger ofdiscovery minimized. If the yacht were seen moving in the night suspicionwould be aroused, for leaving the harbour of Noumea is a perilousundertaking except between sunrise and sunset; yet she must move, andfollow the boat like one of the great black sharks swimming with grimexpectancy behind her, lest the little bark should be overtaken in caseof alarm and pursuit.

  No explanation had been given to Captain Gorst, who neither needed nordesired any. His orders were to follow the boat, and stand in as near theIle Nou as possible without arousing attention on shore; there to waituntil the launch returned, or to approach still closer to the island, ifpursuit rendered it advisable. These orders Virginia knew he would obeyto the letter; and she knew also, though no word had been spoken to heron the subject, that the little cannon, which had been silent since the_Bella Cuba_ had been a lightly armoured despatch-boat in theAmerican-Spanish War, were ready to speak to-night, if worst came toworst.

  It was that vague "worst" that troubled Virginia's soul as, almostsoundlessly, the heart of the _Bella Cuba_ began to beat, and she glidedthrough the glimmering water. If only one could know exactly where andhow to expect the blow, the thought that it might fall would be morebearable, the girl felt. But one of many things might happen to wrecktheir hopes; and failure now probably meant failure forever.

  Maxime Dalahaide might be too ill to make the attempt to-night, or hemight be watched in the act of making it. The men in the launch mightmiss seeing him, even if he had contrived to escape from the hospital andgain the beach. Or his flight might be discovered, and the launch onlyarrive near the shore in time for its occupants to see him dragged backto the old life, with all its past horrors, and many new ones added byway of punishment. Possibly the coral reefs and jagged rocks mightprevent the launch getting close to shore, and Maxime would have to swimout to it. Then, there were the sharks. Virginia had already seen two orthree to-day--hideous, black shapes swimming far down below the surfaceof the clear water--and she shuddered as she remembered the great snoutsand cold, evil eyes of the man-eaters. What was that the Commandant hadsaid in the afternoon? "The sharks are the best guardians the Ile Nou canhave." Were those horrible watch-dogs of the sea on the lookout now?

  At the same moment, the same thought was in the minds of Roger Broom andGeorge Trent, as the little electric launch rounded the point of rock andlost sight of the _Bella Cuba_. The water, as they looked toward the IleNou, which must be their destination, was a flood of molten silver pouredfrom the white-hot furnace of the full moon. They knew how black thelaunch must be on this sheet of radiance, how conspicuous an object towatchful eyes on shore; and though the glittering sheen destroyed thetransparent effects of the water here, they guessed what gliding shapeswere surely upon their track, coldly awaiting disaster.

  Sitting in the boat they could not see the hospital; not a light wasvisible in any prison building; and they had the feeling that in any oneof a dozen great masses of shadow armed surveillants might be hiding, tospring out upon Maxime Dalahaide as he crept toward his friends andfar-off safety. There was no sound except the crisp rustle of the wateras the launch cut through it; but as they entered the lagoon, where amongtall reeds the image of the moon lay unbroken like a fallen silver cup,a whispering ran through the rushes, as if to pass the news of theirapproach from ear to ear.

  Suddenly a tall figure rose up on a slight eminence and waved its arms,then disappeared again so quickly that it might almost have been afantastic shadow; but quickly as it had come and gone, Roger and Georgeknew that their hope had not been in vain. Convict 1280 had completed thefirst stage of his journey. He had seen them coming to the rescue, and hehad given them the secret of his hiding-place.

  The two men were alone in the launch. Now, without a word, Roger Broomheaded it for the point where the figure had appeared. There was astrange confusion of emotions in his brain, which still left it clear toact. Under his habitual air of lazy indifference he hid strong feelings,and at this moment they worked within him like fermenting wine. In thisadventure he was playing for great stakes. Twice in the last year hadVirginia refused him; her love and her beautiful self were all that Rogercraved for in the world, but he had meant never to ask for them again,when this mad scheme of rescue had been conceived. He had opposed it asfoolish and impossible; then Virginia had hinted that, if he would joinher in it, giving help and advice, she would refuse him nothing. Afterthat day he had thrown himself into the adventure heart and soul, sayinglittle, but doing all that man could do. Though his few words hadsometimes discouraged Virginia's ardent hopes, he had doggedly meant tosucceed if he had to die in the supreme effort. He had put his whole soulinto the work, with no other thought until to-day. Then--he had seen whatGeorge Trent had seen; a certain look in Virginia's eyes as they pleadedwith Maxime Dalahaide to free himself. Her lips had said: "Do this foryour sister's sake." But her eyes had said: "Do it for mine." Never hadsuch a light shone in those beautiful eyes for Roger; never would it soshine for him; and he knew it well, with a dull, miserable sickening ofthe heart, which was like a pinch from the hand of Death.

  In a moment the whole face of the world had changed for him. He was aman of honour, and he would go on along the path which he had traced outfor himself; but the wish to succeed in his task for the sake of successwas murdered by that sweet light in a girl's eyes. Something coldlycalculating said to Roger Broom that it would be a good thing for him ifMaxime failed to come to the rendezvous, on that night or any othernight; or, if, in case he came, he should be retaken. Should this happen,Virginia's implied promise need not hold good, but Roger
thought he knewher generous heart well enough to be certain that she would in the endreward him for what he had tried to do, even though--not through hisfault--the fight had been in vain. On the other hand, if he and Georgesucceeded in saving Dalahaide, in bringing Dalahaide to Virginia--butRoger would not quite finish that thought in his mind. Resolutely heturned his back upon it, yet it grinned an evil, skeleton grin over hisshoulder, and he could not make his ears deaf to the whisper that thoughhe could and would hold Virginia to the keeping of her bargain, herheart would always have a holy of holies shut away from him.

  Roger hated the cold Voice that explained his heart to his head, and hedid his best not to listen. But all he could compass was not to lethimself be guided by its promptings. If he had desired Dalahaide's escapeas whole-heartedly as before, he could have worked for it no harder thanhe did; still, he experienced no warmth of gladness at sight of the darkfigure silhouetted for an instant against a moonlit haze. Trent was notclose to him in the launch, and yet somehow he felt the thrill of joyousrelief which shot through the younger man's body at the signal, andenvied it. But all was different with George; he could afford to besingle-minded. Roger knew very well that George was in love withMadeleine Dalahaide, and that there was nothing he would not sacrificefor the happiness of giving her back her brother.

  As Roger Broom wrestled with his own black thoughts, the launch, whichhad hitherto slipped swiftly toward its goal, dividing the rushes andreeds of the lagoon, refused to move on. The lush, green barricade wastoo thick to be cut through by its clean bow and the force of itspowerful little electric motor.

  "It's no good," whispered George. "We can't get on any farther. This iswhat I was afraid of. He'll have to come out to us. Thank goodness, if wecan't get through, neither can the sharks."

  "Where is he? Can you see him?" Roger asked. And the Voice was loud inhis ears again.

  "No, I wish I could. I don't like to sing out. This luck of ours so faris too good to last."

  "Stand up and wave your hand. Perhaps he'll see and reply," said Roger.

  Somehow he wanted George to take the initiative now. He was afraid ofbeing unconsciously guided by the Voice.

  George stood up and waved a handkerchief. No figure rose in response, butas if in answer, they heard a distant splashing in the water, and then,following so quickly that it blurred the impression of the first stealthysound, came the sharp explosion of a shot. Instantly the slumberoussilence of the tropical night was shattered by a savage confusion ofnoises. Other shots were fired, a great bell began to clang, anotherboomed a sullen echo, and from far away spoke the deep, angry voice of acannon.

  "Good heavens! that's the cannon on board that beastly steam tub oftheirs!" cried George. "Luckily for us it's a makeshift concern and nogunboat; but it can catch us on our way back to the yacht, and if itdoes, all's up."

  Roger did not answer. His ears were strained for the splashing in thewater, if still it might be heard as an undertone beneath the distant dinof the alarm. The launch could not advance a foot farther, if it were tosave all three lives; and it would take some time at best for Dalahaideto wade, and swim, and fight his way to them, among the tangling reeds.The escaping prisoner was weak still from his recent wound; no matter howhigh his courage might be now, it could not in a moment repair thephysical waste which he had voluntarily allowed to go on, courting thesole release he had then foreseen.

  The one chance left, now the alarm was given, lay in the hope that,though Dalahaide's flight from the prison hospital had been discovered,the direction he had chosen was not yet known. But the lagoon was atleast as likely a place for the search to begin as any other; and thenthe launch might have been seen moving across the bright streak of themoon's track before it could reach the shelter of the rocks on its way tothe lagoon. A few minutes at most, and the hounds would be on the rightscent.

  These things Roger told himself, but he had not sat still to listen.After the first second of straining attention, he sprang up, threw offhis coat and waistcoat, and kicked off his shoes.

  "I'm going to help him if I can," he said. "His strength may fail, orsome stray shark may be a little cleverer than its fellows and find itsway through the rushes. Anyhow, here goes; and if Dalahaide gets to youbefore me, don't wait. Push out the best you can, and I'll catch you up,swimming."

  There was no time for arguing or objecting, even if it had been inTrent's mind to do either. Since it was right for one to go, and Rogerchose to be that one, he must stay; but, even for Maxime's sake, and forMadeleine's, he could not, he decided, leave Roger Broom to follow--forthere were the sharks. No, they three must stand or fall together,whatever happened now.

  The lagoon, in the spot where Roger left the launch, was too deep forwading, nor could he swim there. Somehow--he scarcely knew how--he seemedto tread water, his feet slipping among the slimy tangled stems that werelike a network under the surface, a brackish taste in his mouth, therank, salt smell of seaweeds in his nostrils, and his ears a soft, slyrustling which might mean the disturbed protest of a thousand littlesubterranean existences, or--the pursuit of an enemy more deadly than anyon land.

  It was a harder task than he had thought; still he persevered."Dalahaide, where are you?" he called.

  "Here!" came the answer, only a few yards away. "I'm caught in something,and up to my knees in mud. I think my wound's broken out again. Forheaven's sake, go back and let them take me. After all, what does itmatter for me? I'm done. A thousand times better die than get you allinto trouble."

  "You _all_!" Even in that moment Roger said to himself that "all" meantVirginia. Dalahaide was thinking of her. He would rather die than sheshould be punished for this bold attempt to break the law. But aloudRoger cried out that he would go back with Maxime or he would not go backat all, and cheering the other, with death in his own heart, he struggledalong, half swimming, half wading, but always moving on, how he hardlyknew. Then at last he saw a dark head, and a face, white in themoonlight, floating seemingly on the reedy surface of the lagoon, like awater lotus on its stem.

  Roger grasped a handful of slippery stems and held out a strong left handto the wounded man.

  "Take hold, and I'll pull you out," he said.

  The two hands met, one thin and white with a prison pallor, the otherbrown and muscular and dependable. They joined, and Roger held on to thebunch of slippery stems so hard that they cut into his fingers. Once hethought they were yielding, but at that instant Dalahaide was lifted outof the mud in which he had sunk. Roger caught him under the arm and heldhim up. Scrambling, rustling, pushing, sinking, rising, spitting outsalt, brackish water, they struggled back toward the launch.

  There it was, waiting, Trent crouching down, scarcely breathing in hisagony of impatience. They saw him, and at the same time their heads cameinto sight for him, among the tall, dark spears of the rushes. In anothermoment George in the launch and Roger in the water were pulling andpushing Maxime, half fainting now, up over the side of the swaying boat.

  As he tumbled in, limply, Roger saw a dark stain on the wet, gray convictjacket. It was black in the moonlight, but Roger knew it would be red byday. The wound in his back had broken out again, as he had thought; evenif they saved him now, it might only be to die. It was the cold Voicethat said this; and Roger shuddered, yet half his nature welcomed thesuggestion. "I've done what I could, let him die," was the answer thatcame. Quickly the little launch began to back out from the entanglementof the rushes, and as soon as there was room George turned her and senther out like an arrow from the lagoon to deeper, clearer water. Beyond acertain point of rock the _Bella Cuba_ should lie by this time, and onceon board her all might yet be well, for she could easily show her heelsto anything that walked the sea in these waters.

  They headed straight for the place where they hoped to find the yachtwaiting, and with an exclamation Trent pointed to the sky, across whichfloated a black, gauzy scarf of smoke.

  "Ripping old chap, Captain Gorst," chuckled George. "That's his signal.Trust him to b
e where he's wanted on time and a bit before."

  But Roger was silent. There was a thought in his mind with which he couldnot darken George's mood by speaking out. Sufficient for the moment wasthe evil thereof.

  They were close to the jutting rock now, and it seemed within ten minutesof safety. But something shot into sight round the point, something big,and black, and swift, with a gleam of fiery eyes and a belching streamof smoke streaked with fire.

  "By thunder!" stammered George. "It's not the _Cuba_. It's the Governmentboat, coming down on us. We're trapped, sure as fate."

  The words rang in Maxime Dalahaide's ears and reached his dimmedconsciousness. The danger was not for him alone, but for the others whowere risking everything to save him. It was this thought which seemed togrip him, and shake him into sudden animation. He sat up, resting on oneelbow, not even wincing at the grinding pain that gnawed within the lipsof his re-opened wound.

  "Not trapped yet," he said. "Keep to the right; to the right--not too farout. She daren't come where we are, for she'd be ripped to pieces on thereef, and she knows that."

  "Hark! They've spotted us. She's hailing!" cried Roger Broom.

  "_Halte! halte!_" came harshly across the moonlit space of water, as,obedient to Dalahaide's quick hint, the course of the launch waschanged.

  The three fugitives were mute, and again a raucous cry broke the silenceof the sea.

  "Halt, or we fire!"

  "They've two cannon," said Maxime. "I was mad to bring this on you, myfriends. If they fire----"

  "Let them fire, and be hanged to them!" grumbled George Trent. "Two canplay at that game. In heaven's name, where's the yacht? Ah--you _would_,would you!"

  This in answer to a shot that, with a red blaze and a loud report, camedancing across the water, churning up spray and missing the launch by aman's length.

  "Keep her going, George," said Roger as quietly as was his wont. "Ourhope's in speed now, and dodging, till the _Bella Cuba_ takes a part inthis game."

  As if the calling on her name had conjured her like a spirit from the"vasty deep," the graceful form of the yacht came into sight. George,tingling with the joyous lust of the battle, could not resist a hurrah;but his shout was deadened by the din of another shot, and then ananswering roar from the _Bella Cuba_. One of those cannon of hers had"paid for its keep" at last. Now the yacht, and every one on boardher--to say nothing of the three who wished to be on board--were in for apenny, in for a pound.

  The act just committed was an offense against law and justice (not alwaysthe same) and joined hands with piracy. To be caught meant punishment themost severe for all, possibly even international complications. If theFrench prison-boat sunk the yacht and the launch, and drowned every soulconcerned in this mad adventure, she would be within her rights, and thefugitives knew it well. The _Bella Cuba_ had flung the red rag into theface of the bull, and Roger Broom and George Trent thought they sawVirginia's hand in the unhesitating challenge. Captain Gorst might havethought twice before assuring himself that the time had come to obeyorders given in case of dire necessity; but once would be enough forVirginia.

  "She's given herself away!" laughed George, keeping the launch betweenthe lagoon and an irregular line of dark horns which, rising just abovethe shining surface of the water, marked a group of coral reefs. "Therewon't be much doubt in Johnny Crapaud's mind now as to what part thattidy little craft's cast to play in this show, eh? Hello-o!"

  Another blaze and a following roar drew the exclamation; but beforeGeorge had had time to draw breath after it, he and Roger and Maxime wereall three in the water. The ball from the little cannon of theprison-boat had done its work better this time, striking the electriclaunch on her nose and shattering her to pieces.

  George Trent was a brave man, but his first thought was "Sharks!" and thehorror of it caught his throat with a sensation of nausea. The instinctof self-preservation is strong in all healthy men, and, though an instantlater he was ashamed on realizing it, the fear that thrilled him was forhimself. He expected, as his momentarily scattered senses told him whathad happened and where he was, to feel huge teeth, sharp as scythes, meetround his thigh and cut off a leg as cleanly as a surgeon's knife.

  While he still quivered with this living horror, he remembered that thedanger was Roger's and Maxime's as well as his, and manhood andunselfishness came back. He forgot himself in his fear for them, moreespecially for Maxime--poor Maxime, who had suffered so much that itwould be hard indeed if he were to meet a ghastly death in the very actof achieving safety and freedom. Madeleine's beautiful, tragic face rose,clear as a star, before his eyes, and he knew that it would be rewardenough for him if he could give his life for the brother she loved sowell. If she should say afterward, "Poor fellow, he died that you mightlive, Maxime," he felt that the words and the gratitude in the girl'sheart would warm him even, if his grave were to be under these darkwaters at the other end of the world.

  He had gone down at first, and a hundred thoughts seemed to have spunthemselves in his head by the time he rose to the surface. Shaking thewater out of his eyes, he looked anxiously round for Roger and Maxime.They were nowhere to be seen, and a pang shot through George Trent'sbreast like a dagger of ice. What if one or both of them had already metthe terrible fate which he had pictured for himself?

  His whole soul was so concentrated upon this fear that for a few secondshe was deaf and blind to everything outside; but suddenly he realizedthat the firing between the yacht and the Government boat was still goingon, a further cannonade which woke strange echoes over the water.

  "Roger--Dalahaide!" he called. No answer came, but, as his eyes strainedthrough the haze of moonlight, a dark dot appeared on the bright mirrorof the sea, moving fast, and a cry was raised which, though not loud,carried clearly, and seemed to George Trent the most terrible he had everheard:

  "A shark--a shark!"