wordswere the most terrible I had heard since first I came to Ken's Island.
"The water is in!" he cried, "the water is in the house!"
I saw it as in a flash. This man we had neglected to hunt from thecaverns below, striking at us in the supreme moment, had opened trap orwindow and let the sea pour in the labyrinth below. The water wasflooding Czerny's house.
"Now!" I cried, "you don't mean that Clair-de-Lune? Then what of theengine-room? How will it fare with Captain Nepeen?"
Doctor Gray stood behind the old Frenchman, and, limping up to my side,he leaned against the rock and began to speak of it very coolly.
"The water is in," he said, "but it will not flood the higher rooms,for they are above sea-level. We are saving what provisions we can, andthe men below are all right. As for Nepeen, we must get him off in aboat somehow. It is the water I am thinking of, captain; what are wegoing to do for water?"
I sat upon the rock at his side and buried my face in my hands. Allthat terrible day seemed to culminate in this overwhelming misfortune.Driven on the one hand by the sea, on the other by these devils of thedarkness, doomed, it might be, to hunger and thirst on that desolaterock, four good comrades cut off from us by the sea's intervening, thevery shadows full of dangers, what hope had we, what hope of that bravepromise spoken to little Ruth but three short hours ago?
"Doctor," I said at last, "if we are not at the bottom of it now, wenever shall be. But we are men, and we will act as men should. Let thewomen stand together in the great hall until the sea drives them out.If water is our need, I am ashore to Ken's Island to-morrow to get it.As for Nepeen, we have a boat and we have hands to man it; we'll fetchCaptain Nepeen, doctor," said I.
He nodded his head and appeared to be thinking deeply. OldClair-de-Lune was the next to utter a sensible thing.
"The man flood the house," said he, "but no sure he get to ship. If hedrown, Czerny know nothing. I say turn out the lamp--wait!"
"As true a word as the night has spoken," said I; "if Kess Denton doesnot reach the boats, they won't hear the story. We'll keep it closeenough, lads, and Captain Nepeen will learn it soon enough. Do youwhistle, Dolly, and get an answer. I hope to God it is all well withthem still."
He whistled across the sea, and after a long minute of waiting adistant voice cried, "All's well!" For the hour at least our comradeswere safe. Should we say the same of them when daylight came?
* * *
The dark fell with greater intensity as the dawn drew near. I thoughtthat it typified our own black hour, when it seemed that fate hadnothing left for us but a grave beneath the seas, or the eternal sleepon the island shore.
* * *
Another hour passed, and the dawn was nearer. I did not know then(though I know now) what kept Czerny's crew in the shadows, or why weheard nothing of them. Once, indeed, in the far distance where theyacht lay anchored, gunshots were fired, and were answered from someboat lying southward by the island; but no other message of the nightwas vouchsafed to us, no other omen to be heard. In the gloom of thedarkened house women watched, men kept the vigil and prayed for theday. Would the light never come; would that breaking East never speedits joyous day? Ah! who could tell? Who, in the agony of waiting, everthinks aright or draws the truthful picture?
There was no new attack, I say, nor any sure news from the cavernsbelow. From time to time men went to the stairs-head and watched theseas washing green and slimy in the corridors, or spoke of them beatingupon the very steps of the great hall and threatening to rise up and upuntil they engulfed us all and conquered even the citadel we held.Nevertheless, iron gates held them back. Not vainly had Czerny'smaster-mind foreseen such a misfortune as this. Those tremendous doorswhich divided the upper house from its fellow were stronger than anysluice-gates, more sure against the water's advance. We held the upperhouse; it was ours while we could breathe in it or find life'ssustenance there.
Now, I saw little Ruth in the hour of dawn and she stood with us for alittle while at the open gate and there spoke so brightly of to-morrow,so lightly of this hour, that she helped us to forget, and made men ofus once more.
"They will not come again to-night, Jasper," she said; "I feel, I knowit! Why should they wait? Something has happened, and something spells'Good luck.' Oh, yes, I have felt that for the last hour. Things mustbe worse before they mend, and they are mending now. The gale will comeat dawn and we shall all go ashore, you and I together, Jasper!"
"Miss Ruth," said I, "that would be the happiest day in all my life.You bring the dawn always, wherever you go, the good sunlight and God'sblue sky! It has been day for me while I heard your voice and said thatI might serve you!"
She would not answer me; but, as though to give my words their meaning,we had watched but a little while longer on the rock when suddenly outof the East the grey light winged over to us, and, spreading itswonder-rays upon the seas, it rolled the black veil back and showed usheight and valley, sea and land, the white-capped breakers and the dimheaven beyond them. Many a dawn have I watched and waited for on theheart of the desolate sea, but never one which carried to me such amessage as then it spake, the joy of action and release, the tight oflife and hope, the clarion call, uplifting, awakening! For I knew thatin day our salvation lay, and that the terrible night was foreverpassed; and every faculty being quickened, the mind alert, the eyes nolonger veiled, I stretched out my arms to the sun and said, "ThankGod!"
* * *
It was day, and the fresh sea answered its appeal. Coming quickly asday will in the great Pacific, we had scarce seen that great rim of theEast lift itself above the sparkling water when all the scene wasopened to us, the picture of ships and water and wave-washed reef madeclear as in some scene of stageland. As with one tongue, realizing amighty truth, we cried, "The ship is gone; the ship has sailed!"
It was true, all true. Where at sundown there had been a yacht anchoredin the offing, now at daybreak no yacht was to be seen. Darkness, whichhad been the ally of Czerny's men, had helped the man himself to fleefrom them to an unknown haven where their vengeance should not reachhim. By night had he fled, and by day would he mock his creatures.Drifting there in the open boats, the rising seas beginning to wash inupon them, hunger and thirst their portion, the rebels were at no painsto hide their secret from us. We knew that they had been called back bythese overwhelming tidings of the master-trick, and we asked what heartthe rogues would have now to sell their lives for the man who betrayedthem? Would they not look to us for the satisfaction the chief roguedenied to them? We, as they, were left helpless in that woful place.Before us, as before them, lay the peril of hunger and of thirst, thedeath-sleep or the greater mercy. And who should ask them to accept itwithout a last supreme attempt, a final assault, which should mend allor end all? Driven to the last point, to the last point would they goto grasp that foothold of the seas and to drive us from the rockwhereon life might yet be had.
"Lads," I said, "the story is there as the man has written it. We haveno quarrel with yon poor devils nor they with us; but they will findone. We cannot help them; they cannot help us. We'll wait for theend--just wait for it."
I spoke with a confidence which time did not justify. Just as the dawnhad put new life into us, so it had steeled the hearts of this derelictcrew and nerved it for any desperate act. For long we watched therogues rowing hither, thither; now in the island's shadows, now comingtowards us, but never once raising a rifle or uttering a threat. In theend they came all together, waving a sail upon a pole; and while theyappeared to row for the lesser gate they accompanied the act with softwords and a protest of their honesty.
"'Tis after a truce they are," says Peter Bligh, presently, "and that'sa poor thing, any-way. My poor father used to say, 'Knock 'em on thehead first and sign the papers afterwards.' He was a kind-heartedgentleman, and did a lot of good in the world!"
"He must have done, Peter," said I; "he must have done a power of good,hearing the little you say about him. 'Tis a pity the old gentlemanisn't here this day to
preach his kindness to yonder rogues. They lookin need of a friendly hand; indeed, they do."
Well, the laugh was turned on Peter; but, as a matter of fact, he spokesense, and I understood as well as he did the risk of parley with thewreckers, even though they did not seem to have any fight left inthem--a fact which old Clair-de-Lune was the first to observe.
"They not fire gun this morning," says the old man. "All starve hungry.Czerny gone. What for they fight? They no stomach left."
"Meaning they've no heart in them," puts in Doctor Gray, at his side."Aye, that's true, and a bit of human nature, too. You cannot fightevery day any more than you can make love every day. It comes and