CHAPTER XXXIII
THE SHIPS THAT PASS
The next morning was rainy. A quick, violent storm had rushed up fromthe sea during the night.
Chase, after a sleepless night, came down and, without waiting for hisbreakfast, hurried out upon the gallery overlooking the harbour. Genevrawas there before him, pale, wistful, heavy-eyed--standing in the shelterof a huge pilaster. The wind swept the thin, swishing raindrops acrossthe gallery on both sides of her position. He came up from behind. Shewas startled by the sound of his voice saying "good-morning."
"Hollingsworth," she said drearily, "do you believe he will cometo-day?"
"He?" he asked, puzzled.
"My uncle. The yacht was to call for me not later than to-day."
"I remember," he said slowly. "It may come, Genevra. The day is young."
She clasped his hand convulsively, a desperate revolt in her soul.
"I almost hope that it may not come for me!" she said, her voice shakingwith suppressed emotion.
"I am not so selfish as to wish that, dear one," he said, after a momentof inconceivable ecstasy in which his own longing gave the lie to thewords which followed.
"It will not come. I feel it in my heart. We shall die here together,Hollingsworth. Ah, in that way I may escape the other life. No, no! Whatam I saying? Of course I want to leave this dreadful island--thisdreadful, beautiful, hateful, happy island. Am I not too silly?" She wasspeaking rapidly, almost hysterically, a nervous, flickering smile onher face.
"Dear one," he said gently, "the yacht will come. If it should not cometo-day, my cruisers will forestall its mission. As sure as there is asea, those cruisers will come." She looked into his eyes intently, as ifafraid of something there. "Oh, I'm not mad!" he laughed. "You brought acruiser to me one day; I'll bring one to you in return. We'll be quits."
"Quits?" she murmured, hurt by the word.
"Forgive me," he said, humbled.
"Hollingsworth," she said, after a long, tense scrutiny of the sea, "howlong will you remain on this island?"
"Perhaps until I die--if death should come soon. If not, then God knowshow long."
"Listen to me," she said intensely. "For my sake, you will not staylong. You will come away before they kill you. You will! Promise me. Youwill come--to Paris? Some day, dear heart? Promise!"
He stared at her beseeching face in wide-eyed amazement. A wave oftriumphant joy shot through him an instant later. To Paris! She wasasking him--but then he understood! Despair was the inspiration of thathungry cry. She did not mean--no, no!
"To Paris?" he said, shaking his head sadly. "No, dearest one. Not now.Listen: I have in my bag upstairs an offer from a great Americancorporation. I am asked to assume the management of its entire businessin France. My headquarters would be in Paris. My duties would begin assoon as my contract with Sir John Brodney expires. The position is alucrative one; it presents unlimited opportunities. I am a comparativelypoor man. The letter was forwarded to me by Sir John. I have a year inwhich to decide."
"And you--you will decline?" she asked.
"Yes. I shall go back to America, where there are no princesses of theroyal blood. Paris is no place for the disappointed, cast-off lover. Ican't go there. I love you too madly. I'd go on loving you, andyou--good as you are, would go on loving me. There is no telling whatwould come of it. It will be hard for me to--to stay away fromParis--desperately hard. Sometimes I feel that I will not be strongenough to do it, Genevra."
"But Paris is huge, Hollingsworth," she argued, insistently, an eager,impelling light in her eyes. "We would be as far apart as if the oceanwere between us."
"Ah, but would we?" he demanded.
"It is almost unheard-of for an American to gain _entree_ to our--to theset in which--well, you understand," she said, blushing painfully in theconsciousness that she was touching his pride. He smiled sadly.
"My dear, you will do me the honour to remember that I am not trying toget into your set. I am trying to induce you to come into mine. Youwon't be tempted, so that's the end of it. Beastly day, isn't it?" Heuttered the trite commonplace as if no other thought than that of theweather had been in his mind. "By the way," he resumed, with a mostgenial smile, "for some queer, un-masculine reason, I took it into myhead last night to worry about the bride's trousseau. How are you goingto manage it if you are unable to leave the island until--well, sayJune?"
She returned his smile with one as sweetly detached as his had been,catching his spirit. "So good of you to worry," she said, a defiant redin her cheeks. "You forget that I have a postponed trousseau at home. Afew stitches here and there, an alteration or two, some smart summergowns and hats--Oh, it will be so simple. What is it? What do you see?"
He was looking eagerly, intently toward the long, low headland beyondthe town of Aratat.
"The smoke! See? Close in shore, too! By heaven, Genevra--there's asteamer off there. She's a small one or she wouldn't run in so close.It--it may be the yacht! Wait! We'll soon see. She'll pass the point ina few minutes."
Scarcely breathing in their agitation, they kept the glasses levelledsteadily, impatiently upon the distant point of land. The smoke grewthicker and nearer. Already the citizens of the town were rushing to thepier. Even before the vessel turned the point, the watchers at thechateau witnessed a most amazing performance on the dock. Half a hundrednatives dropped down as if stricken, scattering themselves along thenarrow pier. For many minutes Chase was puzzled, bewildered by thisstrange demonstration. Then, the explanation came to him like a flash.
The people were simulating death! They were posing as the victims of theplague that infested the land! Chase shuddered at this exhibition ofdiabolical cunning. Some of them were writhing as if in the death agony.It was at once apparent that the effect of this manifestation wouldserve to drive away all visitors, appalled and terrified. As he wasexplaining the ruse to his mystified companion, the nose of the vesselcame out from behind the tree-covered point.
An instant later, they were sending wild cries of joy through thechateau, and people were rushing toward them from all quarters.
The trim white thing that glided across the harbour, graceful as a bird,was the Marquess's yacht!
It is needless to describe the joyous gale that swept the chateau into amaelstrom of emotions. Every one was shouting and talking and laughingat once; every one was calling out excitedly that no means should bespared in the effort to let the yacht know and appreciate the realsituation.
"Can the yacht take all of us away?" was the anxious cry that went roundand round.
They saw the tug put out to meet the small boat; they witnessed the sameold manoeuvres; they sustained a chill of surprise and despair when thebright, white and blue boat from the yacht came to a stop at the commandfrom the tug.
There was an hour of parleying. The beleaguered ones signalled withdespairing energy; the flag, limp in the damp air above the chateau,shot up and down in pitiful eagerness.
But the small boat edged away from close proximity to the tug and thenear-by dock. They spoke each other at long and ever-widening range. Atlast, the yacht's boat turned and fled toward the trim white hull.
Almost before the startled, dazed people on the balcony could grasp thefull and horrible truth, the yacht had lifted anchor and was slowlyheaded out to sea.
It was unbelievable!
With stupefied, incredulous eyes, they saw the vessel get quickly underway. She steamed from the pest-ridden harbour with scarcely so much as aglance behind. Then they shouted and screamed after her, almost maddenedby this final, convincing proof of the consummate deviltry against whichthey were destined to struggle.
Chase looked grimly about him, into the questioning, stricken faces ofhis companions. He drew his hand across his moist forehead.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said seriously and without the faintestintent to jest, "we are supposed to be dead!"
There was a single shriek from the bride of Thomas Saunders; no soundleft the dry lips of the
other watchers, who stood as if petrified andkept their eyes glued upon the disappearing yacht.
"They have left me here to die!" came from the stiffened lips of thePrincess Genevra. "They have deserted me. God in heaven!"
"Look!" cried Chase, pointing to the dock. Half a dozen glasses wereturned in that direction.
The dying and the dead were leaping about in the wildest exhibition ofgleeful triumph!
The yacht slipped into the unreachable horizon, the feathery cloud fromits stack lying over against the leaden sky, shaped like a finger thatpointed mockingly the way to safety.
White-faced and despairing, the watchers turned away and draggedthemselves into the splendid halls of the building they had now come toregard as their tomb. Their voices were hushed and tremulous; they werelooking at the handwriting on the wall. They had not noticed it therebefore.
Saunders was bravely saying to his distracted wife, as he led her downthe marble hall:
"Don't give up the ship, dear. My word for it, we'll live to see thatgarden out Hammersmith way. My word for it, dear."
"He's trying so hard to be brave," said Genevra, oppressed by theknowledge that it was _her_ ship that had played them false. "And Agnes?Look, Hollingsworth! She is herself again. Ah, these British women comeup under the lash, don't they?"
Lady Deppingham had thrown off her hopeless, despondent air; she wascrying out words of cheer and encouragement to those about her. Her eyeswere flashing, her head was erect and her voice was rich withinspiration.
"And you?" asked Chase, after a moment. "What of you? Your ship has comeand gone and you are still here--with me. You almost wished for this."
"No. I almost wished that it would _not_ come. There is a distinction,"she said bitterly. "It has come and it has disappointed all of us--notone alone."
"Do you remember what it was that Saunders said about having lived onlya week, all told? The rest was nothing."
"Yes--but you have seen that Saunders still covets life in a garden atHammersmith Bridge. I am no less human than Mr. Saunders."
All day long the islanders rejoiced. Their shouts could be plainly heardby the besieged; their rifles cracked sarcastic greetings from theforest; bullets whistled gay accompaniments to the ceaseless song:"Allah is great! Allah is good!"
No man in the despised house of Taswell Skaggs slept that night. Theguard was doubled at all points open to attack. It was well that theprecaution was taken, for the islanders, believing that the enemy'sforce had been largely reduced by the polluted water, made a viciousassault on the lower gates. There was a fierce exchange of shots and theattackers drew away, amazed, stunned by the discovery that thebeleaguered band was as strong and as determined as ever.
At two in the morning, Deppingham, Browne and Chase came up from thewalls for coffee and an hour's rest.
"Chase, if you don't get your blooming cruiser here before long, we'llbe as little worth the saving as old man Skaggs, up there in hisopen-work grave," Deppingham was saying as he threw himself wearily intoa chair in the breakfast room. They were wet and cold. They had heardRasula's minions shouting derisively all night long: "Where is thewarship? Where is the warship?"
"It will come. I am positive," said Chase, insistent in spite of hisdejection. They drank their coffee in silence. He knew that theothers--including the native who served them--were regarding him withthe pity that one extends to the vain-glorious braggart who goes downwith flying colours.
He went out upon the west gallery and paced its windswept length forhalf an hour or more. Then, utterly fagged, he threw himself into anunexposed chair and stared through tired eyes into the inscrutable nightthat hid the sea from view. The faithless, moaning, jeering sea!
When he aroused himself with a start, the grey, drizzly dawn was uponhim. He had slept. His limbs were stiff and sore; his face was drenchedby the fine rain that had searched him out with prankish glee.
The next instant he was on his feet, clutching the stone balustrade witha grip of iron, his eyes starting from his head. A shout arose to hislips, but he lacked the power to give it voice. For many minutes hestood there, rooted to the spot, a song of thanksgiving surging in hisheart.
He looked about him at last. He was alone in the gallery. A quaint smilegrew in his face; his eyes were bright and full of triumph. After a fullminute of preparation, he made his way toward the breakfast room,outwardly as calm as a May morning.
Browne and Deppingham were asleep in the chairs. He shook themvigorously. As they awoke and stared uncomprehendingly at the disturberof their dreams, he said, in the coolest, most matter-of-fact way:
"There's an American cruiser outside the harbour. Get up!"