CHAPTER IX
WHEREIN CERTAIN PEOPLE MEET UNEXPECTEDLY
Iris came back from the void to find herself lying on a truckle bed ina dimly-lighted hovel. A cotton wick flickered in a small lamp of theold Roman type. It was consuming a crude variety of castor oil, andits gamboge-colored flame clothed the smoke-darkened rafters and mudwalls in somber yet vivid tints that would have gladdened the heart ofa Rubens. This scenic effect, admirable to an artist, was lost on agirl waking in affright and startled by unfamiliar surroundings. Shegazed up with uncomprehending eyes at two brown-skinned women bendingover her.
One, the elder, was chafing her hands; the other, a tall, gracefulgirl, was stirring something in an earthenware vessel. She heard thegirl murmur joyfully:
"Gracas a Deus, elh' abria lhes olhas!"
Iris was still wandering in that strange borderland guarded by unknownforces that lies between conscious life and the sleep that is so closeof kin to death. If in full possession of her senses, she might nothave caught the drift of the sentence, since it was spoken in aguttural patois. But now she understood beyond cavil that because shehad opened her eyes, the girl was giving thanks to the Deity. Thefirst definite though bewildering notion that perplexed her faculties,at once clouded and unnaturally clear, was an astonished acceptance ofthe fact that she knew what the strange girl had said, though thephrase only remotely resembled its Spanish equivalent. She gatheredits exact meaning, word for word, and it was all the more surprisingthat both women should smile and say something quite incomprehensibleas soon as Iris lifted herself on an elbow and asked in English:
"Where am I? How did I come here?"
"How did I come here?"]
Then she remembered, and memory brought a feeling of helplessness notwholly devoid of self-reproach. It was bad enough that her presenceshould add so greatly to the dangers besetting her friends; it was farworse that she should have fainted at the very moment when suchweakness might well prove fatal to them.
Why did she faint? Ah! A lively blush chased the pallor from hercheeks, and a few strenuous heartbeats restored animation to her limbs.Of course, in thinking that she had yielded solely to the stress ofsurcharged emotions, Iris was mistaken. What she really needed wasfood. A young woman of perfect physique, and dowered with the best ofhealth, does not collapse into unconsciousness because a young manembraces her, and each at the same moment makes the blissful discoverythat the wide world contains no other individual of supreme importance.Iris's great-grandmother might have "swooned" under suchcircumstances--not so Iris, who fainted simply because of the strainimposed by failure to eat the queer fare provided by De Sylva and hisassociates. She hardly realized how hungry she was until the girlhanded her the bowl, which contained a couple of eggs beaten up inmilk, while small quantities of rum and sugar-cane juice made thecompound palatable.
"Bom!" said the girl, "bebida, senhora!"
It certainly was good, and the senhora drank it with avidity, themixture being excellent diet for one who had eaten nothing except anover-ripe banana during thirty hours. Indeed, it would be noexaggeration to extend that period considerably. Iris had leftpractically untouched the meals brought her by the steward during thegale, and the early morning cup of coffee, which would have proved mostgrateful after a storm-tossed night, was an impossible achievementowing to the lack of water.
So Iris tackled the contents of the bowl with a vigorous appetite oddlyat variance with the seeming weakness that ended in a prolongedfainting fit, and the hospitable Brazilians, to whom this fair Englishgirl was a revelation in feature and clothing, bestirred themselves toprovide further dainties. But, excepting some fruit, Iris had thewisdom to refuse other food just then. Her thoughts were rapidlybecoming coherent, and she realized that a heavy meal might beabsolutely disastrous. If the men made good their project she would becalled on within an hour to cross the island. It seemed reasonablethat, hungry though she was, she would be better fitted to climb theisland hills at a fast pace if she ate sparingly. Still, she longedfor a drink of water, and taxed her small stock of Spanish to makeknown her desire.
"Agua, senhora," she said with a smile, and the delight of mother anddaughter was great, since they thought she could speak their language.
Therein, of course, they were disappointed, but not more so than Iriswhen she tasted the brackish fluid alone procurable on the south coastof Fernando Noronha. That was a fortunate thing in itself. Only thosewho have endured real thirst can tell how hard it is to refrain fromdrinking deeply when water is ultimately obtained; but the mixture ofmilk and eggs had already soothed her parched mouth and palate, and shequickly detected an unpleasantly salt flavor in the beverage they gaveher.
Then she set herself to discover her whereabouts. The women were eagerto impart information, but, alas, Iris's brain had regained itsevery-day limitations, and she could make no sense of their words. Atlast, seeing that the door was barred and the hut was innocent of anyother opening, she stood upright, and signified by a gesture that shewished to go out. There could be no mistaking the distress, even thepositive alarm, created by this demand. The girl clasped her hands inentreaty, and the older woman evidently tried most earnestly todissuade her visitor from a proceeding fraught with utmost danger.
Being quite certain that they meant to be friendly, Iris sat downagain. She knew, of course, that Marcel would come for her, ifpossible, and the relief displayed by her unknown entertainers was somarked that she resolved to await his appearance quietly. She wouldnot abandon hope till daylight crept through the chinks of the hut.How soon that might be she could not tell. It seemed but a few secondssince she felt Hozier's arms around her, since her lips met his in apassionate kiss. But, meanwhile, someone had brought her here. Herdress, though damp, was not sopping wet. Even the slight token of thebeaten eggs showed how time must have sped while she was lying thereoblivious of everything. She tried again to question the women, andfancied that they understood her partly, as she caught the words "meianoite," but it was beyond her powers to ascertain whether they meantthat she had come there at midnight, or were actually telling her thehour.
At any rate, they were most anxious for her well-being. The islandhousewife produced another dish, smiled reassuringly, and said,"Manioc--bom," repeating the phrase several times. The compound lookedappetizing, and Iris ate a little. She discovered at once that it wastapioca, but her new acquaintance suggested "cassava" as analternative. The girl, however, nodded cheerfully. She had heard thegentry at Fort San Antonio call it tapioca, and her convict fathercultivated some of the finer variety of manioc for the officers' mess.
"Ah," sighed Iris, smiling wistfully, "I am making progress in yourlanguage, slow but sure. But please don't give me any mangroves."
The girl apparently was quite fascinated by the sound of English. Shebegan to chatter to her mother at an amazing rate, trying repeatedly toimitate the hissing sound which the Latin races always perceive inAnglo-Saxon speech. Her mother reproved her instantly. To makeamends, the girl offered Iris a fine pomegranate. Iris, of course,lost nothing of this bit of by-play. It was almost the first touch ofnature that she had discovered among the amazing inhabitants ofFernando Noronha.
These small amenities helped to pass the time, but Iris soon noted anair of suspense in the older woman's attitude. Though mindful of herguest's comfort, Luisa Gomez had ever a keen ear for external sounds.In all probability, she was disturbed by the distant reports offire-arms, and it was a rare instance of innate good-breeding that shedid not alarm her guest by calling attention to them. Iris, amid suchnovel surroundings, could not distinguish one noise from another.Night-birds screamed hideously in the trees without; a host of cricketskept up an incessant chorus in the undergrowth; the intermittentroaring of breakers on the rocks invaded the narrow creek. The medleypuzzled Iris, but the island woman well knew that stirring events werebeing enacted on the other side of the hill. Her husband was there--hehad, indeed, prepared a careful alibi
since Marcel visited him--andwives are apt to feel worried if husbands are abroad when bullets areflying.
So, while the girl, Manoela, was furtively appraising the clothing wornby Iris, and wondering how it came to pass that in some parts of theworld there existed grand ladies who wore real cloth dresses, and laceembroidered under-skirts, and silk stockings, and shining leatherboots--wore them, too, with as much careless ease as one draped one'sself in coarse hempen skirt and shawl in Fernando Noronha--her motherwas listening ever for hasty footsteps among the trailing vines.
At last, with a muttered prayer, she went to the door, and unfastenedthe stout wooden staple that prevented intruders from entering unbidden.
It was dark without. Dense black clouds veiled the moon, and a gust ofwind moaned up the creek in presage of a tropical storm. Someoneapproached.
"Is that you, Manoel?" asked Luisa Gomez in a hushed voice.
There was no answer. The woman drew back. She would have closed thedoor, but a slim, active figure sprang across the threshold. Sheshrieked in terror. The new-comer was a Brazilian officer, one ofthose glittering beings whom she had seen lounging outside thePrindio[1] during her rare visits to the town. She was hoping to greether Manoel, she half expected to find Marcel, but to be faced by anofficer was the last thing she had thought of. In abject fear, shebroke into a wild appeal to the Virgin; the officer merely laughed,though not loudly.
"Be not afraid, senhora--I am a friend," he said with quiet confidence,and the fact that he addressed her so courteously was a wondrouslysoothing thing in itself. But he raised a fresh wave of dread in hersoul when he peered into the cabin and spoke words she did notunderstand.
"I think you are here, mademoiselle," he said in French. "I am come toshare your retreat for a little while. Perchance by daybreak I mayarrive at some plan. At present, you and I are in difficulties, is itnot?"
Iris recognized the voluble, jerky speech. A wild foreboding grippedher heart until she was like to shudder under its fierce anguish.
"You, Captain San Benavides?" she asked, and her utterance wasunnaturally calm.
"I, mademoiselle," he said, "and, alas! I am alone. May I come in?It is not well to show a light at this hour, seeing that the island isoverrun with infuriated soldiers."
The concluding sentence was addressed to Luisa Gomez in Portuguese.Realizing instinctively that the man came as a friend, she stood aside,trembling, on the verge of tears. He entered, and the door was closedbehind him. The yellow gleam of the lamp fell on his smart uniform,and gilded the steel scabbard of his sword. In that dim interior thesigns of his three days' sojourn on Grand-pere were not in evidence,and he had not been harmed during the struggle on the main road or inthe rush for the launch.
He doffed his rakish-looking kepi and bowed low before Iris. Perhapsthe white misery in her face touched him more deeply than he hadcounted on. Be that as it may, a note of genuine sympathy vibrated inhis voice as he said:
"I am the only man who escaped, mademoiselle. The others? Well, it iswar, and war is a lottery."
"Do you mean that they have been killed, all killed?" she murmured witha pitiful sob.
"I--I think so."
"You . . . think? Do you not know?"
He sighed. His hand sought an empty cigarette case. Such was thecorrect military air, he fancied--to treat misfortunes rather as jests.He frowned because the case was empty, but smiled at Iris.
"It is so hard, mademoiselle, when one speaks these things in a strangetongue. Permit me to explain that which has arrived. We encountered apicket, and surprised it. Having secured some weapons andaccouterments, we hastened to the quay, where was moored the littlesteamship. Unhappily, she was crowded with soldiers. They fired, andthere was a short fight. I was knocked down, and, what do you callit?--_etourdi_--while one might count ten. I rose, half blinded, andwhat do I see? The vessel leaving the quay--full of men engaged incombat, while, just beyond the point, a warship is signaling herarrival. It was a Brazilian warship, mademoiselle. She showed two redrockets followed by a white one. It was only a matter of minutesbefore she met the little steamship. I tell you that it was bad luck,that--a vile blow. I was angry, yes. I stamp my foot and say foolishthings. Then I run!"
Iris made no reply. She hid her face in her hands. She could frame nomore questions. San Benavides was trying to tell her that Hozier andthe rest had been overwhelmed by fate at the very instant escape seemedto be within reach. The Brazilian, probably because of difficultiesthat beset him in using a foreign language, did not make it clear thathe had flung himself flat in the dust when he heard the order to firegiven by someone on board the launch. He said nothing of a tragicincident wherein Marcel, shot through the lungs, fell over him, and he,San Benavides, mistaking the convict for an assailant, wrestledfuriously with a dying man. He even forgot to state that had hecharged home with the others, he would either have met a bullet orgained the deck of the launch, and that his failure to reach the vesselwas due to his own careful self-respect. For San Benavides was not acoward. He could be brave spectacularly, but he had no stomach for afight in the dark, when stark hazard chooses some to triumph and someto die. That sort of devilish courage might be well enough for thosecrude sailors; a Portuguese gentleman of high lineage and proved mettledemanded a worthier field for his deeds of derring-do. Saperlotte! Ifone had a cigarette one could talk more fluently!
"Believe me, mademoiselle," he went on, speaking with a proud humilitythat was creditable to his powers as an actor, "the tears came to myeyes when I understood what had happened. For myself, what do I care?I would gladly have given my life to save my brave companions. But Ithought of you, solitary, waiting here in distress, so I hurried intothe village, and my uniform secured me from interruption until I wasable to leave the road and cross the hills."
Then the lightning of a woman's intuition pierced the abyss of despair.Surely there were curious blanks in this thrilling narrative. As washer way when thoroughly aroused, Iris stood up and seized San Benavidesalmost roughly by the arm. Her distraught eyes searched his face witha pathetic earnestness.
"Why do you think that the launch did not get away?" she cried. "Itwas dark. The moon might have been in shadow. If the launch met thewarship and was seen, there must have been firing----"
"Chere mademoiselle, there was much firing," he protested.
"At sea?"
The words came dully. She was stricken again, even more shrewdly. Thegloom was closing in on her, yet she forced herself to drag the truthfrom his unwilling lips.
"Yes. Of course, I could not wait there in that open place. I wascompelled to seek shelter. Troops were running from town and citadel.I avoided them by a miracle. And my sole concern then was your safety."
"Oh, my safety!" she wailed brokenly. "How does it avail me that myfriends should be slain? Why was I not with them? I would rather havedied as they died than live in the knowledge that I was the cause oftheir death."
San Benavides essayed a confidential hand on her shoulder. She shrankfrom him; he was not pleased but he purred amiably:
"Mademoiselle is profoundly unhappy. Under such circumstances one saysthings that are unmerited, is it not? If anyone is to blame, it is mywretched country, which cannot settle its political affairs withoutbloodshed. Ah, mademoiselle, I weep with you, and tender you my mostrespectful homage."
A deluge of tropical rain beat on the hut with a sudden fury.Conversation at once became difficult, nearly impossible. Iris threwherself back on the trestle in a passion of grief that rivaled theouter tempest. San Benavides, by sheer force of habit, dusted hisclothes before sitting on the chair brought by Luisa Gomez. Thewoman's frightened gaze had dwelt on Iris and him alternately whilethey spoke. She understood no word that was said, but she gatheredthat the news brought by this handsome officer was tragic, woeful,something that would wring the heartstrings.
"Was there fighting, senhor?" she asked, close to his ear, her voicepitched
in a key that conquered the storm.
He nodded. He was very tired, this dandy; now that Iris gave nofurther heed to him, he was troubled by the prospects of the coming day.
"Were they soldiers who fought?"
He nodded again.
"No islanders?"
Then he raised a hand in protest, though he laughed softly.
"Your good man is safe, senhora," he said. "Marcel told him to go toSueste and tend his cattle. When he comes home it will be his duty toinform the Governor that we are here. He will be rewarded, notpunished. _Sangue de Deus_! I may be shot at dawn. I pray you, letme rest a while."
The girl, Manoela, weeping out of sympathy, crept to Iris's side andgently stroked her hair. Like her mother, she could only guess thatthe English lady's friends were captured, perhaps dead. Even herlimited experience of life's vicissitudes had taught her what shortshrift was given to those who defied authority. The Republic of Brazildoes not permit its criminals to be executed, but it shows no mercy torebels. Manoela, of course, believed that the Englishmen were helpingthe imprisoned Dom Corria to regain power. She remembered how a mutinywas once crushed on the island, and her eyes streamed.
Meanwhile, Luisa Gomez was touched by the good-looking soldier'splight. Never, since she came to Fernando Noronha to rejoin herconvict husband, had she been addressed so politely by any member ofthe military caste. The manners of the officers of the detachment atFort San Antonio were not to be compared with those of Captain SanBenavides. Her heart went out to him.
"We must try to help you, Senhor Capitano," she said. "If the othersare dead or taken, you may not be missed."
He threw out his hands in an eloquent gesture. Life or death was amatter of complete indifference to him, it implied.
"We shall know in the morning," he said. "Have you any cigarettes? Amilrei[2] for a cigarette!"
"But listen, senhor. Why not take off your uniform and dress in myclothes? You can cut off your mustaches, and wear a mantilha over yourface, and we will keep you here until there is a chance of reaching aship. Certainly that is better than being shot."
He glanced at Iris. Vanity being his first consideration, it isprobable that he would have refused to be made ridiculous in her eyes,had not a knock on the door galvanized him into a fever of fright. Hesprang up and glared wildly around for some means of eluding thethreatened scrutiny of a search party. Luisa Gomez flung him a roughskirt and a shawl. He huddled into a corner near the bed,--in suchwise that the figures of Iris and Manoela would cloak the rays of thelamp,--placed his drawn sword across his knees, and draped the twogarments over his head and limbs.
Then, greatly agitated, but not daring to refuse admittance to thedreaded soldiery, the woman unbarred the door. A man staggered in. Hewas alone, and a swirl of wind and rain caused the lamp to flicker somadly that no one could distinguish his features until the door wasclosed again.
But Iris knew him. Though her eyes were dim with tears, though thenew-comer carried a broken gun in his hands, and his face wasblood-stained, she knew.
With a shriek that dismayed the other women--who could not guess thatjoy is more boisterous than sorrow, she leaped up and threw her armsaround him.
"Oh, Philip, Philip!" she sobbed. "He told me you were dead . . . andI believed him!"
The manner of her greeting was delightful to one who had faced deathfor her sake many times during the past hour, yet Hozier was sosurprised by its warmth that he could find never a word at the moment.But he had the good sense to throw aside the shattered rifle and returnher embrace with interest. Long ago exhausted in body, his mind reelednow under the bewildering knowledge that this most gracious woman didtruly love him. When they parted in that same squalid hut at midnight,he took with him the intoxication of her kiss. Yet he scarce broughthimself to believe that the night's happenings were real, or that theytwo would ever meet again on earth. And now, here was Iris quiveringagainst his breast. He could feel the beating of her heart. Theperfume of her hair was as incense in his nostrils. She was clingingto him as if they had loved through all eternity. No wonder he couldnot speak. Had he uttered a syllable, he must have broken down likethe girl herself.
San Benavides supplied a timely tonic.
Throwing aside the rags which covered him, he tried to rise. Philipcaught a glimpse of the uniform, the sheen of the naked sword. He wasabout to tear himself from Iris's clasp and spring at this new enemywhen the Brazilian spoke.
"Mil diabos!" he cried in a rage, "this cursed Inglez still lives, andhere am I posing before him like an old hag."
His voice alone saved him from being pinned to the floor by a man whohad adopted no light measures with others of his countrymen during thepast half-hour, as the dented gun-barrel, minus its stock, well showed.But the captain's mortified fury helped to restore Philip's sanity.Lifting Iris's glowing face to his own, he whispered:
"Tell me, sweetheart, how comes it that our Brazilian friend is here?"
"He ran away when some shots were fired," which was rather unfair ofIris. "He said the launch had been sunk by a man-of-war----"
"But he is wrong. I saw no man-of-war. We captured the launch. Bythis time she is well out to sea. Unfortunately, Marcel was killed,and Domingo badly wounded. There was no one to come for you, so Ijumped overboard and swam ashore. I had to fight my way here, and itwill soon be known that there are some of us left on the island. Ithought that perhaps I might take you back to the Grand-pere cavern.These people may give us food. I have some few sovereigns in mypocket. . . ."
"Oh, yes, yes!" She was excited now and radiantly happy. "Of course,Captain San Benavides must accompany us. He says the soldiers willshoot him if they capture him. I, too, have money. Let me ask him toexplain matters to this dear woman and her daughter. They have beenmore than kind to me already."
She turned to the sulky San Benavides and told him what Hozier hadsuggested. He brightened at that, and began a voluble speech to LuisaGomez. Interrupting himself, he inquired, in French, how Hozierproposed to reach the rock.
"On a catamaran. There are two on the beach, and I can handle one ofthem all right," said Philip. "But what is this yarn of a warship?When last I sighted the launch she was standing out of the harbor, andthe first clouds of the storm helped to screen her from the citadel."
Iris interpreted. San Benavides repeated his story of the rockets. Inher present tumult, the girl forgot the touch of realism with regard tothe firing that he had heard. Certainly there was a good deal ofpromiscuous rifle-shooting after the departure of the launch, butwarships use cannon to enforce their demands, and the boom of a big gunhad not woke the echoes of Fernando Noronha that night. Philip deemedthe present no time for argument; he despised San Benavides, and gaveno credence to him. Just now the Brazilian was an evil that must beendured.
Luisa Gomez promised to help in every possible way. Her eyes sparkledat the sight of gold, but the poor woman would have assisted them outof sheer pity. Nevertheless, the gift of a couple of sovereigns,backed by the promise of many more if her husband devoted himself totheir service, spurred her to a frenzy of activity.
There was not a moment to be lost. The squall had spent itself, and apeep through the chinks of the door showed that the moon would quicklybe in evidence again. It was essential that they should cross thechannel while the scattering clouds still dimmed her brightness; soManoela and her mother collected such store of food, and milk, andwater, as they could lay hands on. Well laden, all five hastened tothe creek, and Hozier, Iris, and San Benavides, boarded the larger ofthe two catamarans. The strong wind had partly dissipated the noisomeodor, but it was still perceptible. Iris was sure she would never likemangroves.
Having a degree of confidence in the queer craft that was lackingduring their earlier voyage, they did not hesitate to stack jars andbaskets against the curved prow in such a manner that the eatableswould not become soaked with salt water. Then, after a hasty farewell,during which Iris s
howed her gratitude to those kindly peasants by ahug and a kiss, Hozier pushed off and tried to guide the catamaran asMarcel had done.
Oddly enough, he and Iris now saw the majestic outlines of theGrand-pere for the first time. The great rock rose above the waterlike some immense Gothic cathedral. The illusion was heightened by agiant spire that towered grandly from the center of the islet. Itlooked a shrine built by nature in honor of its Creator, a true templeof the infinite, and the semblance was no illusion to these threecastaways, since they regarded it as a sanctuary to which alone, underHeaven, they might owe their lives. Hozier, of course, realized thatthere was a certain element of risk in returning there. The islandauthorities would surely endeavor to find out where the party ofdesperadoes had lain _perdu_ between the sinking of the ship and theattack on the picket. But the ill-starred Marcel had been confidentthat none could land on the rock who was not acquainted with theintricacies of the approach, and Philip was content to trust to thereef-guarded passage rather than seek shelter on the mainland.
Once embarked in the fairway, the management of the catamaran occupiedhis mind to the complete exclusion of all other problems. He waspuzzled by the discovery that the awkward craft was traveling too farto the westward, until he remembered that the tide had turned, and thatthe current was either slack or running in the opposite direction.Changing the paddle to the starboard side, he soon corrected thisdeviation in the route. But he had been carried already a hundredyards or more out of the straight line. To reach the two pointed rocksthat marked the entrance to the secret channel, he was obliged to creepback along the whole shoreward face of the Grand-pere; and to thisaccident was due a surprise that ranked high in a day replete withmarvels.
When the catamaran rounded the last outlying crag, and they were allstraining their eyes to find the sentinel pillars, they became awarethat a small boat was being pulled cautiously toward them from theopposite side of the rock.
Iris gasped. She heard Hozier mutter under his breath, while SanBenavides revealed his dismay by an oath and a convulsive tightening ofthe hands that rested on the girl's shoulders.
Hozier strove with a few desperate strokes of the paddle to reach theshadows of the passage before the catamaran was seen by the boat'soccupants. He might have succeeded. Many things can happen at nightand on the sea--strange escapades and hair's-breadth 'scapes--thrillsdenied to stay-at-homes dwelling in cities, who seldom venture beyond alighted area. But there was even a greater probability that theunwieldy catamaran might be caught by the swell and dashed side-longagainst one of the half-submerged rocks that thrust their black fangsabove the water.
Happily, they were spared either alternative. At the very instant thattheir lot must be put to the test of chance, Coke's hoarse accents cameto their incredulous ears.
"Let her go, Olsen," he was growling. "We've a clear course now, an'that dam moon will spile everything if we're spotted."
In this instance hearing was believing, and Philip was the first toguess what had actually occurred.
"Boat ahoy, skipper!" he sang out in a joyous hail.
Coke stood up. He glared hard at the reef.
"Did ye 'ear it?" he cried to De Sylva, who was steering. "Sink me, I'ope I ain't a copyin' pore ole Watts, but if that wasn't Hozier'svoice I'm goin' dotty."
"It's all right, skipper," said Philip, sending the catamaran aheadwith a mighty sweep. "Miss Yorke is here--Captain San Benavides, too.I was sure you would look for us if you cleared the harbor safely."
Then Coke proclaimed his sentiments in the approved ritual of the highseas, while the big Norseman at the oars swung the boat's head rounduntil both craft were traveling in company to the waiting launch. Butbefore anything in the nature of an explanation was forthcoming fromthe occupants of either the boat or the catamaran, a broad beam ofwhite light swept over the crest of the island from north to south. Itdisappeared, to return more slowly, until it rested on Rat Island, atthe extreme northwest of the group. It remained steady there, showinga wild panorama of rocky heights and tumbling sea.
"A search-light, by G--d!" growled Coke.
"Then there really _was_ a warship," murmured Iris.
"Ha!" said San Benavides, and his tone was almost gratified, for he hadgathered that Hozier was skeptical when told of the rockets. But inthat respect, at least, he was not mistaken. A man-of-war had enteredthe roadstead, and her powerful lamp was now scouring sea and coast forthe missing launch. And in that moment of fresh peril it was forgottenby all but one of the men who had survived so many dangers since thesun last gilded the peak of Fernando Noronha, that were it not for Irishaving been left behind, and Philip's mad plunge overboard to go toher, and the point-blank refusal of the _Andromeda's_ captain and crewto put to sea without an effort to save the pair of them, the launchwould not now be hidden behind the black mass of the Grand-pere rock.
Nevertheless, the fact was patent. Had the little vessel sailed to thewest, in the assumption that her only feasible course lay in thatdirection, she must have been discovered by the cruiser's far-seeingeye. And what that meant needed no words. The bones of the_Andromeda_ supplied testimony at once silent and all-sufficing.
[1] The Governor's residence.
[2] The Brazilian milrei is worth 55 cents, or 2s. 3 1/2d. ThePortuguese is worth only one-tenth of a cent.