CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
DISASTER.
Cambridge May week is a function so well known, and so often described,that it would be superfluous to enter in detail into its varioushappenings. In their first year Darsie and Hannah had taken little partin the festivities, but upon their second anniversary they lookedforward to a welcome spell of gaiety. Not only were the Percivalscoming up for the whole week, but Mr and Mrs Vernon and Vie were alsoto be installed in rooms, and the Newnham students had receivedpermission to attend the two principal balls, being housed for thenights by their own party. Throughout Newnham the subject of frocksbecame, indeed, generally intermingled with the day's work. Cardboardboxes arrived from home, cloaks and scarves were unearthed from therecesses of "coffins," and placed to air before opened windows;"burries" were strewn with ribbons, laces, and scraps of tinsel, insteadof the usual notebooks; third-year girls, reviving slowly from thestrain of the Tripos, consented languidly to have their hats re-trimmedby second-year admirers, and so, despite themselves, were drawn into themaelstrom. One enterprising Fresher offered items of her wardrobe onhire, by the hour, day, or week, and reaped thereby quite a goodly sumtowards her summer holiday. A blue-silk parasol, in particular, was inuniversal request, and appeared with _eclat_ and in different hands atevery outdoor function of the week.
In after-years Darsie Garnett looked back upon the day of that year onwhich the Masonic Ball was held with feelings of tender recollection, asa piece of her girlhood which was altogether bright and unclouded. Shemet the Percival party at one o'clock, and went with them to lunch inRalph's rooms, where two other men had been invited to make the partycomplete. There was hardly room to stir in the overcrowded littlestudy, but the crush seemed but to add to the general hilarity.
Ralph made the gayest and most genial of hosts, and the luncheonprovided for his guests was a typical specimen of the daring hospitalityof his kind! Iced soup, lobster mayonnaise, salmon and green peas, vealcutlets and mushrooms, trifle, strawberries and cream, and strongcoffee, were pressed in turns upon the guests, who--be it acknowledgedat once--ate, drank, enjoyed, and went forth in peace. Later in theafternoon the little party strolled down to the river, and in theevening there was fresh feasting, leading up to the culminatingexcitement of all--the ball itself.
Beside the Percivals' Parisian creations, Darsie's simple dress made buta poor show, but then Darsie's dresses were wont to take a secondaryplace, and to appear but as a background to her fresh young beauty,instead of--as is too often the case--a dress _par excellence_, with agirl tightly laced inside. When she made her appearance in the sitting-room of the lodgings, the verdict on her appearance was universallyapproving--
"You look a _lamb_!" gushed Ida enthusiastically.
"How do you manage it, dear? You _always_ seem to hit the right thing!"exclaimed Mrs Percival in plaintive amaze; and as he helped her on withher cloak, Ralph murmured significantly--
"As if it mattered what _you_ wore! No one will notice the frock."
At the ball there was an appalling plethora of girls; wallflowers satwaiting round the walls, and waited in vain. Darsie felt sorry forthem, tragically sorry; but the sight of their fixed smiles could notbut heighten the sense of her own good luck in having the chance of morepartners than she could accept. Ralph showed at his best that evening,evincing as much care for his sisters' enjoyment as for that of theirfriend. Not until the three programmes were filled to the last extradid he rest from his efforts, and think of his own pleasure. It is truethat his pleasure consisted chiefly in dancing with Darsie, and theirsteps went so well together that she was ready to give him the numbersfor which he asked. As for Dan Vernon, he did not dance, but out ofsome mistaken sense of duty, felt it his duty to put in an appearanceand _glower_.
"See old Vernon, glowering over there?" inquired Ralph, laughing, as hewhirled Darsie lightly by to the strains of an inspiriting two-step, andfor a moment a cloud shadowed the gaiety of her spirits. Dan oughteither to dance or stay away! She didn't _like_ to see him lookingglum!
The dancing was carried on until four in the morning, when in the chillgrey light the company were ranged in rows, and photographed, apparentlyto provide a demonstration of how elderly and plain even the youngest ofthe number could look under such inauspicious circumstances.
The three girls had breakfast in bed the next morning, somewhere abouttwelve o'clock--a delightful occasion when all three talked at the sametime, relating thrilling experiences of the night before, comparingnotes, admiring, quizzing, shaking with laughter over a dozen innocentdrolleries. These after-conferences are perhaps the best part of thefestivities of our youth; and Noreen, Ida, and Darsie began that fineJune day as gaily, as happily, as unconscious of coming ill as any threegirls in the land.
Ralph had been anxious that his people should again lunch in his rooms,but Mrs Percival had prudently decided in favour of a simple meal athome, and it was approaching tea-time when the party sallied forth towitness the day's "bumping" on the river. The elders were frankly tiredafter their late hours, but the three girls looked fresh as flowers intheir dainty white frocks, and enjoyed to the full the kaleidoscopicbeauty of the scene.
The two Percivals' interest in the bumping was of the slightestdescription--Ralph was not taking part this afternoon, and with Ralphbegan and ended their concern. They stood on the crowded bank, ratherhot, rather bored, amusing themselves by scanning the people near athand. The Vernon party were but a few yards away, and Hannah attractedspecial attention.
"She _is_ plain!" exclaimed Noreen; whereat Darsie snapped her up indouble-quick time.
"Of _course_ she is plain! She wouldn't dream, of being anything else!"
Beloved plain Hannah! No features, however classic, could be aseloquent as hers in her old friend's eyes. Darsie tossed her head, andlooked flusty and annoyed, whereat Noreen feebly apologised, emphasisingher offence by blundering explanations, and Ralph grew restless andimpatient.
"I say! This is getting slow. Come along, girls; let's take the ferryand cross to the other side. It's not half bad fun to see all theshows. It will be a change, anyhow, and you can come back when you'retired."
"I'll stay with mother," Noreen decided dutifully. Ida surveyed thecrowd on the opposite bank with the dubious air of one who has lived allher life within her own gates. "I don't _think_ I care to go into thatcrush."
"Oh, come along, Darsie. Thank goodness you're not so squeamish. Let'sget out of this." Ralph pushed impatiently forward, and Mrs Percivalturned to Darsie, with raised eyebrows, and said urgently--
"Do go, dear! Ralph will take care of you. We will wait for you here."
Darsie smiled assent, the thought passing lightly through her mind thatMrs Percival looked particularly sweet and gracious when she smiled.She never dreamt that that particular smile, that little glance ofappeal, were to remain with her all heir life, to be her comfort in abitter grief.
They passed the spot where Hannah and Dan were standing with theirfriends, and acting on a sudden impulse, Darsie turned her head, with afew laughing words of explanation: "We're going to look at the Punch andJudies!"
There was no definite response, but Hannah's exclamation had an envioustone which made Ralph quicken his footsteps. It was rare good luck toget Darsie to himself for an hour; he certainly did not wish to besaddled with plain Hannah as an unwelcome third.
The ferry-boat was on the point of starting, its flat surfaces crowdedwith pleasure-seekers. Ralph and Darsie had to run the last few yardsin order to secure a bare space for standing. Ralph took the outsidewith the nonchalance of the true boating-man, who would almost as soonfall in the water as not. Darsie, standing close by his side, glancedfrom one to the other of her companions, her never-failing interest in_people_ discovering a story in each new group.
They had reached the middle of the stream, when a movement of the deckupset her balance, and sent her swaying against Ralph's arm. She lookedup with a laughing apology, a
nd was startled by the sight of his face.So far was he from sharing her amusement, that never in the course oftheir acquaintance had she seen him so pale, so set. He seized the handshe had laid on his arm, and held it in a vice-like grip, as he bent tolook at the deck. At that moment Darsie stumbled afresh, and felt thelapping of water against her thinly clad feet. She exclaimed loudly,but her voice was drowned in the chorus of cries, questions, and appealswhich arose from every side.
How swiftly, with what incredible, paralysing speed a scene may change,and seeming security give way to panic fear! Darsie, turning her headto look at the crowd of faces which towered so strangely above her, metbut one expression in every eye--breathless, agonising dread.
Looking back upon the scene in after-life, it seemed the nightmare of amoment; then the grip upon her arm tightened, she felt herself beingpushed past Ralph towards the edge of the boat, heard his voice speakingto her in crisp, firm tones which she had heard in dreams, but never,never from his living lips.
"Darsie! She's turning turtle! There's no danger, darling, if you jumpclear. The water's not deep. Some one will come. I'm going to throwyou in. Strike out for your life!"
She was lifted like a doll in his strong arms; her wild eyes, searchinghis, met a cheery smile in response, she felt herself swayed to and fro,realised with a shudder the parting from the firm grasp--fell, splashed,felt the water close over her head.
When she rose to the surface the water near her seemed full ofstruggling forms; she caught a terrified glimpse of a perpendiculardeck, of passengers falling like flies from their perch, and with theinstinct of despair struck out in the opposite direction.
Like most Newnham girls, she was a fair swimmer--happy hours spent inthe swimming-tent had ensured so much; but it was her first experienceof fighting the water in all the crippling fineries of race-week attire.Her shoes, her skirts, the floating ends of sash and scarf all held herdown; her soaking hat flopped over her eyes, her very gloves seemed tolessen the force of her stroke; but breathless and spent as she was, shecould not pause while from behind arose that dread, continued cry.Ralph had told her to strike out, that there was no danger if only shekept clear.
"All right, Darsie--all right! Keep calm--keep calm! I'm coming! I'vegot you! Leave yourself to me."
It was Dan's voice speaking in her ear, clear and distinct in the midstof the clamour; she felt herself seized in scientific fashion--in theway at which she herself had played at rescuing her companions fromimaginary death--and, relinquishing all effort, was towed numbly to theshore.
It seemed as if hundreds of people were waiting to rescue her; hundredsof arms stretched out in welcome; hundreds of eyes grew suddenly moistwith tears. She was tired, and wet, and dazed, but she could stand onher own feet, had no need of helping arms. Dan took her hand in his andran swiftly across the grass to the nearest tent, where alreadypreparations were in train for the restoration of the unfortunates.
Darsie was the first of the crew to reach this shelter, and MrsPercival and the girls awaited her tearfully on the threshold. Sheawoke to fuller consciousness at sight of their faces, smiled inreassurement, and murmured disjointed phrases.
"Quite all right--only wet! Ralph saved me! A second time! So calmand brave!"
"Yes, dear child; yes! Take off that wet hat!" replied Mrs Percivalurgently, the girl's praise of her son adding to her tender solicitude,and she hovered around with tender touches, the while from around rose aceaseless string of suggestions.
"Brandy! Hot tea!" "She ought to change at once!" "My house is justat hand--do come to my house!" "My motor is waiting outside! Let medrive you home!"
So on, and so on, innate kindliness of heart bubbling to the surface asit invariably does in moments of disaster. As each unfortunate enteredthe tent the same programme was enacted, the same kind officesvolunteered. "My house is close at hand--do come to my house!"
"My motor is waiting--do let me drive you back!" Each victim of theimmersion wore at first the same dazed, helpless expression, but thepresence of their companions, the kindly voices speaking in their ear,the hot, reviving draughts soon brought about a change of mood, so thatthey began to smile, to exchange remarks, to congratulate themselves onescape. Darsie, with characteristic elasticity, was one of the first toregain composure, and the Percivals hung delightedly on her descriptionof Ralph's composure and resource.
"I was terrified. It was a dreadful sensation to feel the deck sinkingbeneath your feet on one side, and to see it gradually rising above youon the other. And all the bewildered, terrified faces! Ralph neverturned a hair. He told me that there was no danger so long as I keptclear of the boat; he lifted me up in his arms as if I had been a doll."
The colour mounted to Darsie's white cheeks as she spoke, and a thrillof emotion tingled her blood. The first time she hears herselfaddressed as "darling" in a man's deep voice is one that a girl cannotlightly forget. She turned her head over her shoulder so as to be ableto see the entrance into the tent.
"Where _is_ Ralph?"
"He will be here presently. None of the men have come in yet. Ralphwill be so useful. He is as much at home in the water as on land. Hewill be busy helping the others."
Mrs Percival spoke with happy assurance; nevertheless, she leftDarsie's side and edged her way through the crowd towards the opendoorway, through which she ought now to be able to see her son's return.As she was within a few yards of the entrance it was suddenly blockedby a group of men--hatless, dripping, dishevelled, but in demeanourcomposed and cheery, as if what had happened had been quite an enjoyableexperience.
The foremost of the group greeted their friends with smiles and wavingof hands.
"Hullo! Hullo! Here we are! How are you feeling? All serene now?Every one comfortably on shore? Got any tea left?"
"Is my son with you? Have you seen my son--Ralph Percival?"
Mrs Percival spoke in a high, clear voice, at the sound of which ayoung undergrad. wheeled round quickly towards his companions.
"By Jove--yes! He was on board. I thought we were all here. Where'sPercival?"
He dashed out of the tent, stood looking blankly around, turned ablanched face towards the tent.
Then from an inner corner of the tent another voice questioned sharply:"Mary! Where's Mary--Mary Everard? She was with us--standing quitenear. _Mary's not here_!"
No one answered. There was a breathless silence, while each man andwoman in that crowded tent was subtly, overpoweringly conscious of a newpresence filling the atmosphere around--the presence of _Fear_! Heavyas a palpable presence it pressed upon them; it lapped them round; thefumes of it mounted to their brains.
Months before, Darsie had listened while a woman who had been near SanFrancisco at the time of the earthquake and fire endeavoured to describewhat was in truth indescribable, how the very air itself was at thattime charged with a poignancy of agony--an impalpable spiritual agony,apart from such physical cause as heat and fire, an agony which arosefrom the grief of thousands of tortured hearts.
She had listened--interested, curious, pleased to nestle in her easy-chair, and ponder over a novel thought; but at this terrible moment shehad no need to ponder; realisation came sharp and sure. Tragedy was inthe air; she inhaled it with every breath, tasted it, felt its heavyhand.
With one accord the occupants of the tent streamed across the lawnstowards the waterside, where even now an informal inquiry was takingplace. The officials in charge of the ferry-boat were defendingthemselves against their accusers. Overcrowded? The ferry-boat hadbeen as crowded on two previous days, and all had gone well. It wasimpossible to account for the accident. Since no further harm than afew minutes' ducking had happened to the passengers, the greater losswas on their own side.
To these officials, protesting, excusing, arrived in a mass a body ofwhite-faced men and women, demanding with one voice their lost--a youngman, an undergraduate; tall, fair, in a white flannel suit; last seenstanding on the side of the
boat helping to lower the women into thewater; a young girl, in a boating-dress of blue and white. They werenot among the rescued. They had not been seen since the moment of theaccident.
_Where were they_?
As Darsie stood, ghastly and shuddering, by the water brink, she wassubconsciously aware of a strong arm in hers. Subconsciously also shewas aware that the arm belonged to Dan Vernon, but she had no time forlook or word; her whole being was strung to one agonising thought. MrPercival supported his half-fainting wife; the two sisters clungtogether; the relations of Mary Everard paced wildly to and fro. Onshore all was tumult and confusion, on the river sunbeams sparkled, thestream was quiet and undisturbed.
"Percival was like a fish: Percival could have kept afloat for hours."
A voice separated itself from the confused babel, and struck on Darsie'sear, but even as her heart leaped upward another voice spoke. "It isnot a case of swimming. If he were not quick enough in getting away--ifhe were caught beneath--penned!"
The strong arm gripped her more firmly still, steadied her trembling. Afierce voice issued an order for "Silence! Silence!"
Margaret France came up with beautiful soft eyes and a beautiful softvoice. She spoke wise, tender words. You were to come away--it wasbetter so. It would add to your friends' distress if you were ill. Youwere wet, cold. You were to be sensible and come home.
Darsie looked at her thoughtfully for a long moment. She was thinkingthat she loved Margaret France, that she had taken a fancy to her thefirst evening at Newnham. How droll and witty she had been as anauctioneer! Of the purport of her present words she had nocomprehension. She sighed and turned her face to the river.
"Leave her to me," said Dan's voice quietly. "I will take care of her."
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They found them at sundown; the two young, fair bodies--the tall, palelad, the slim, dark maid--two cold effigies of youth, and health, andjoy. On Ralph's forehead was a deep red mark, the mark of the blowwhich had given him a prey to the waters; but Mary's brown locks floatedround a sweet, untroubled face.
They bore them to the mortuary, and those who loved them sat and weptalone. Darsie spent the two following days with the stricken family,who found their one comfort in listening again and again to the story ofRalph's brave end. Weak and unstable in life, in death he had shown agallant front, and more than one of the unfortunate crew came forward totestify to his courageous and selfless efforts on their behalf.
Mr Percival went about with a set face and shoulders bowed like thoseof an old man. The girls wept helplessly from morn till night; MrsPercival lost in one night all lingering trace of youth; she kept upbravely before her husband and daughters, but alone with Darsie heranguish found vent.
"My son, my son! He was so good to me--so loving and kind. His faultswere the faults of youth, and, oh, Darsie, my, faults also! We blamedhim for faults which we had not tried to check. If he had lived and hadbeen obliged to face life for himself he would have risen to it, as herose to that last great chance. It takes a brave man to face deathcalmly. He was not weak or selfish then--my Ralph! No one dared callhim weak. Thank God! We were with him to the end, we were happytogether, and you were with him too. That is what he would have wished.He loved you, Darsie. If he had lived, he would have wished you forhis wife."
"Yes!" sighed Darsie, and laid her head gently on the other's knee. Inthe silence which followed she was acutely aware of the unspokenquestion which filled the air, acutely distressed that she could notgive the stricken mother the assurance for which she craved.
In Ralph's lifetime his friendship had brought Darsie as much pain asjoy, and, though death had wiped away all but tender recollections, evenin this hour of grief and shock she did not delude herself that shesorrowed for him with the deepest sorrow of all. The anxious, pitifulaffection which she had felt for the man who leaned so heavily upon herwas more that of a sister than a wife.
Darsie stretched out her hand, found the chilly one of the poor mother,and leaning her soft cheek over it, pressed it tenderly with her lips.
"You must let me be your third daughter! We can talk about himtogether. I can tell you about this last year--every little tiny thingthat he said and did. You'll never be anxious about him any more, dear,never afraid! You will always be proud of your hero boy."
Mrs Percival sighed. She was in too sensitive a mood not to realisethe meaning of the girl's lack of response, but the first pang ofdisappointment was followed by a thought full of comfort to the soremother-heart.
"I loved him best. He was mine to the end! No one loved him like hismother!"