of sleep-time and sun-time. As God is in heaven,he spoke the truth!"
They none of them answered me. Down below us the sea shimmered in themorning light. We sat on a ledge a thousand feet above it, and, savefor the lapping waves on the reef, not a sound of life, not even a birdon the wing, came nigh us. You could have heard a pin drop when I wenton.
"Sleep-time and sun-time, is it fable or truth? Ruth Bellenden says itstruth. I'll read you her words----"
Peter Bligh said, "Ah," and struck a match. Seth Barker, the carpenter,sat for all the world like a child, with his great mouth wide open andhis eyes full of wonder. Dolly Venn was curled up at my feet like adog. I opened the papers and began to read to them:
"On the 14th of August, three weeks after the ship brought us to Ken'sIsland, I was awakened at four o'clock in the morning by an alarm-bellringing somewhere in the island. The old servant, she whom they called'Mother Meg,' came into my room in great haste to tell me to get up.When I was dressed my husband entered and laughingly said that we mustgo on board the yacht at once. I was perplexed and a little cross aboutit; but when we were rowed out to the ship, I found that all the whitepeople were leaving the island in boats and being rowed to those rockswhich lie upon the northward side. Edmond tells me that there aredangerous seasons in this beautiful place, when the whole island isunfit for human habitation and all must leave it, sometimes for a week,sometimes for a month."
I put the paper down and turned another page of it.
"That, you see," said I, "is written on the 14th of August, before sheknew the true story or what the dangerous time might mean. Passing on,I find another entry on September 21st, and that makes it clearer:
"There is here a wonderful place they call 'The House Under the Sea.'It is built for those who cannot escape the sleep-time otherwise. I amto go there when my husband sails for Europe. I have asked to accompanyhim and am refused. There are less delicate ways of reminding a womanthat she has lost her liberty.
"November 13th.--I have again asked Edmond to permit me to accompanyhim to London. He answers that he has his reasons. There is a way ofspeaking to a woman she can never forget. My husband spoke in that waythis morning.
"December 12th.--I know Edmond's secret, and he knows that I know it!Shall I tell it to the winds and the waves? Who else will listen? Letme ask of myself courage. I can neither think nor act to-night.
"December 25th.--Christmas Day! I am alone. A year ago--but what shallit profit to remember a year ago? I am in a prison-house beneath thesea, and the waves beat against my windows with their moaning cry,'Never, never again--never again!' At night, when the tide has fallen,I open my window and send a message to the sea. Will any hear it? Idare not hope.
"January 1st.--My husband has returned from his cruise. He is to go toEurope to see after my affairs. Will he tell them, I wonder, that RuthBellenden is dead?
"January 8th.--The sleep-time has now lasted for nine weeks. They tellme that vapours rise up from the land and lie above it like a cloud.Some think they come from the great poppies which grow in the marshyfields of the lowlands; others say from the dark pools in the gorges ofthe hills. However it may be, those that remain on the island fall intoa trance while the vapour is there. A strange thing! Some never wakefrom it; some lose their senses; the negroes alone seem able to livethrough it. The vapours arise quite suddenly; we ring the alarm-bell tosend the people to the ships.
"January 15th.--We returned to the island to-day. How blind and selfishsome people are! I do believe that Aunt Rachel is content to live onthis dreadful place. She is infatuated with Edmond. 'I am anchoredsecurely in a home: she says. 'The house under the sea is a young man'sromantic fancy.' The rest is meaningless to her--a man's whim. 'Icannot dissipate my fortune on Ken's Island.' Aunt Rachel was always amiser.
"February 2d.--This morning Edmond came to me for that which he calls'an understanding.' His affection distresses me. Oh, it might all be sodifferent if I would but say 'yes.' And what prevents me--the voices Ihave heard on the reef; or is it because I know--I know?
"February 9th.--I am on the island again and the sun is shining. What Ihave suffered none shall ever know. I prefer Edmond Czerny's anger tohis love. We understand each other now.
"February 21st.--My message to the sea remains unanswered. Will it beforever?
"March 3d.--If Jasper Begg should come to me, how would they receivehim? How could he help me? I do not know--and yet my woman's heart says'Come!'
"April 4th.--There has been a short recurrence of the sleep-time. Aship struck upon the reef, and the crew rowed ashore to the island. Isaw them last night in the moonlight, from my windows. They fell one byone at the border of the wood and slept. You could count their bodiesin the clear white light. I tried to shut the sight from my eyes, butit followed me to my bed-room!
"May 3d.--I whispered my message to the sea again, but am alone--Godknows how much alone!"
I folded up the paper and looked at the others. Peter Bligh's pipe hadgone out and lay idle in his hand. Dolly Venn was still curled at myfeet. Seth Barker I do not believe had budged an inch the whole time Iwas reading. The story gripped them like a vice--and who shall wonderat that? For, mark you, it might yet be our story.
"Peter," said I, "you have heard what Mme. Czerny says, and you knownow as much as I do. I am waiting for your notion."
He picked up his pipe and began to fill it again.
"Captain," says he, "what notions can I have which wouldn't be in anysane head? This island's a death-trap, and the sooner we're off it thebetter for our healths. What's happened to the ship, the Lord onlyknows! At a guess I would say that an accident's overtook her. Whyshould a man leave his shipmates if it isn't by an accident? MisterJacob is not the one to go psalm-singing when he knows we're short ofvictuals and cooped up here like rats in a trap! Not he, as I'm aliving man! Then an accident's overtook him; he doesn't come, becausehe can't come, which, as my old father used to say, was the best ofreasons. Putting two and two together, I should speak for sailing awaywithout him, which is plain reason anyway."
"We walking on the sea, the likes of which the parson talks about?"chimed in Seth Barker.
"If you haven't got a boat," says Dolly Venn, "I don't see how you areto make one out of seaweed! Perhaps Mister Jacob will come backtomorrow."
"And perhaps we sha'n't be hungry before that same time!" added PeterBligh; "aye, that's it, captain, where's the dinner to come from?"
I thought upon it a minute, and then I said to them:
"If Dolly Venn heard a bell ringing last night that's the danger-bellof which Miss Ruth speaks. We cannot go down to the island, for doesn'tshe say it's death to be caught there? We cannot stop up here or weshall die of hunger. If there's a man among you that can point to amiddle course, I shall be glad to hear him. We have got to dosomething, lads, that's sure!"
They stared at me wonderingly; none of them could answer it. We werebetween the devil and the deep sea, and in our hearts I think we beganto say that if the ship did not come before many hours had passed, fourof her crew, at least, would cease to care whether she came or stopped.
CHAPTER XI
LIGHTS UNDER THE SEA
The day fell powerfully hot, with scarce a breath of wind and a Pacificsun beating fiercely on the barren rocks. What shelter was to be had wegot in the low cave behind the platform; but our eyes were rarelyturned away from the sea, and many a time we asked each other what keptClair-de-Lune or why the ship was missing. That the old man had somegood reason I made certain from the beginning; but the ship was agreater matter. Either she was powerless to help us or Mister Jacob hadmistaken his orders. I knew not what to think. It was enough to betrapped there on that bit of a rock and to tell each other that,sleep-time or sun-time, we should be dead men if no help came to us.
"Belike the Frenchman's took with the fog and is doing a bit of a dozeon his own account," said Peter Bligh, gloomily, towards three bells inthe afternoon watch--and little enough that wasn't gloomy he'd spokenthat day
. "Well, sleep won't fill my canteen anyway! I could manage arump-steak, thank you, captain, and not particular about the onions!"
They laughed at his notion of it, and Seth Barker sympatheticallypegged his belt up one. I was more sorry for little Dolly Venn than anyof them, though his pluck was wonderful to see.
"Are you hungry, Dolly, lad?" I asked him, by-and-bye. Foolish questionthat it was, he answered me with a boy's bright laugh and somethingwhich could make light of it:
"It's good for the constitution to fast, sir," he said, bravely; "ourcurate used to tell us so when I went to church. We shall all