XIII
LEFT BEHIND
Dawn crested, poised, and broke in a surf of splendor upon the greatmountain-line that overhangs Puerto del Norte. Where, at the corporationdock, there had lurked the shadow of a yacht, gray-black againstblue-black, there now swung a fairy ship of purest silver, cradledupon a swaying mirror. Tiny insects, touched to life by the radiance,scuttled busily about her decks and swarmed out upon the dock. Theseagoing yacht Polly had awakened early.
Down the mule path that forms the shortest cut from the railwaystation straggled a group of minute creatures. To one watching fromthe mountain-side with powerful field-glasses--such as, for example, aconvinced and ardent hater of the Caribbean Sea, curled up with his backagainst a cold and Voiceless rock--it might have appeared that the groupwas carrying an unusual quantity of hand luggage. Yet they were notporters; so much, even at a great distance, their apparelproclaimed. The pirates of porterdom do not get up to meetfive-o'clock-in-the-morning specials in Caracuna.
The little group gathered close at the pier, then separated, two goingaboard, and the others disappearing into sundry streets and reappearingpresently at the water-front with other figures. The human form cannotbe distinctly seen, at a distance of three miles, to rub its eyes;neither can it be heard to curse; but there was that in the newerfigures which suggested a sudden and reluctant surrender of sleepingprivileges. Had our supposititious watcher possessed an intimate andcontemptuous knowledge of Caracuna officialdom, he would have surmisedthat lavish sums of money had been employed to stir the port and customsofficials to such untimely activity.
But not money or any other agency is potent to stir Caracunanofficialdom to undue speed. Hence the observer from the heights,supposing that he had a personal interest in the proceedings, might haveassured himself of ample time to reach the coast before the formalitiescould be completed and the ship put forth to sea. Had he presentlyhumped himself to his feet with a sluggish effort, abandoned hisfield-glasses in favor of a pair of large greenish-brown goggles, andset out on a trail straight down the mountains, staggering a bit atthe start, a second supposititious observer of the first supposititiousobserver--if such cumulative hypothesis be permissible--might havedivined that the first supposititious observer was the Unspeakable Perk,going about other people's business when he ought to have been in bed.And so, not to keep any reader in unendurable suspense, it was.
While the Unspeakable Perk was making his way down the dim and narrowtrail, another equally weary figure shambled out from the main road uponthe flats and made for the landing. The apparel of Mr. Preston FairfaxFitzhugh Carroll was in a condition that he would have deemed quiteunfit for one of his station, had he been in a frame of mind to considersuch matters at all. He was not. Affairs vastly more weighty and humanoccupied his mind. What he most wished was to find Miss Polly Brewsterand unburden himself of them.
At the entrance to the pier, he was detained by the American Consul.Cluff came running down the long structure in great strides.
"Moses, Carroll! I'm glad to see you! Where've you been?"
A week earlier, the scion of all the Virginias would have resented thisfamiliarity from a professional athlete. But neither Mr. Carroll's mindnor his heart was a sealed inclosure. He had learned much in the lastfew days.
"Up on the mountain," he said. "For Heaven's sake, give me a drink,Cluff!"
The other produced a flask.
"You do look shot to pieces," he commented. "Find Perk--Pruyn?"
"Yes. I'll tell you later. Where's Miss Brewster?"
"In her stateroom. Asleep, I guess. Said she wanted rest, and nobody wasto disturb her till we sail."
"When do we start?"
"Eight o'clock, they say. That means ten. Will Dr. Pruyn get here?"
"He isn't going with us."
"Oh, no. I forgot his Dutch permit. Well, he'd better use it quick,or he'll go in a box when he does go. I wouldn't insure his life for atwo-cent stamp in this country."
"You wouldn't if you'd seen what I saw last night," said the Southerner,very low.
Wisner, the busy, efficient little consul, who had been arranging withthe officials for Carroll's embarkation, now returned, bringing with hima viking of a man whom he introduced as Dr. Stark, of the United StatesPublic Health Service.
"Either of you know anything about Dr. Pruyn?" he inquired anxiously.
"He's on his way down the mountain now," said Carroll.
"Good! He's ordered away, I'm glad to say. Just got the message."
"Then perhaps he will go out with us," said Cluff, with obvious relief."I sure did hate to think of leaving that boy here, with the game lawsfor goggle-eyed Americans entirely suspended."
"No. He's ordered to Curacao to stay and watch. We've got to get him outto the Dutch ship somehow."
"Couldn't the yacht take him and transfer him outside?" asked Carroll.
"Mr. Carroll," said Dr. Stark earnestly, "before this yacht is manyminutes out from the dock, you'll see a yellow flag go up from the endof the corporation pier. After that, if the yacht turns aside or comesback for a package that some one has left, or does anything but holdthe straightest course on the compass for the blue and open sea--well,she'll be about the foolishest craft that ever ploughed salt water."
"I suppose so," admitted Carroll. "Well, I have matters to look after onboard."
Into Mr. Carroll's cabin it is nobody's business to follow him. A manhas a right to some privacy of room and of mind, and if the Southerner'sstruggle with himself was severe, at least it was of brief duration.Within half an hour, he was knocking at Polly Brewster's door.
"PLEASE go 'way, whoever it is," answered a pathetically weary voice.
"Miss Polly, it's Fitzhugh. I have a note for you."
"Leave it in the saloon."
"It's important that you see it right away."
"From whom is it?" queried the spent voice.
"From Dr. Pruyn."
"I--I don't want to see it."
"You must!" insisted her suitor.
"Did he say I must?"
"No. I say you must. Forgive me, Miss Polly, but I'm going to wait heretill you say you'll read it."
"Push it under the door," said the girl resignedly.
He obeyed. Polly took the envelope, summoned up all her spirit, andopened it. It contained one penciled line and the signature:--
Good-bye. All my heart goes with you forever. L. P.
Something fluttered from the envelope to her feet. She stooped andpicked it up. It was the tiniest and most delicate of orchids, purple,with a glow of gold at its heart. To her inflamed pride, it seemed thefinal insult that he should send such a message and such a reminder,without a word of explanation or plea for pardon. Pardon she never wouldhave granted, but at least he might have had the grace of shame.
"Have you read it?" asked the patient voice from without.
"Yes. There is no answer."
"Dr. Pruyn said there wouldn't be."
"Then why are you waiting?"
"To see you."
"Oh, Fitz, I'm too worn out, and I've a splitting headache. Won't itwait?"
"No." The voice was gently inflexible.
"More messages?"
"No; something I must tell you. Will you come out?"
"I suppose so."
Her tone was utterly listless and limp. Utterly listless and limp, shelooked, too, as she opened the door and stood waiting.
"Miss Polly, it's about the woman at Perkins's--at Dr. Pruyn's house."
Her eyes dilated with anger.
"I won't hear! How dare you come to me--"
"You must! Don't make it harder for me than it is."
She looked up, startled, and noted the haggard lines in his face.
"I'll hear it if you think I should, Fitz."
"She is dead."
"Dead? His--his wife?"
"She wasn't his wife. She was a helpless leper, whom he was trying tocure with some new serum. He had to do it secretly because the
re is alaw forbidding any one to harbor a leper."
"Oh, Fitz!" she cried. "And she died of it?"
"No. They killed her. Last night."
"They? Who?"
"Government agents, probably. They were after Pruyn."
"How horrible! And--and Mrs. Pruyn. Where was she?"
"There isn't any Mrs. Pruyn. There never was."
"But the Dutch permit! It was for Dr. Pruyn and his wife."
"Sherwen misread the form. So did I. It read for Dr. Pruyn and a woman.He hoped to take her to Curacao and complete his experiment."
"That's what he meant when he spoke of being lawless, and I've beenthinking the basest things of him for it!" The girl, dazed by a flash ofcomplete enlightenment, caught at Carroll's arm with beseeching hands."Where is he, Fitz?"
"On his way down the mountain. Perhaps down here by now."
"He's coming to the ship?" she asked.
"No; he doesn't expect to see you again. He was coming down to make surethat we got off safely."
"Fitz, dear Fitz, I must see him!"
"Miss Polly," he said miserably, "I'll do anything I can."
"Oh, poor Fitz!" she cried pityingly, her eyes filling with tears. "Iwish for your sake it wasn't so. And you have been so splendid aboutit!"
"I've tried to make amends, and play fair. It hasn't been easy. Shall Igo back and look for him? It's a small town, and I can find him."
"Yes. I'll write a note. No; I won't. Never mind. I'll manage it. Fitz,go and rest. You're worn out," she said gently.
Back into her stateroom went Miss Polly. From that time forth no man sawher nor woman, either, except perhaps her maid, and maids are darkand discreet persons on occasion. If this particular one kept her owncounsel when she saw a trim but tremulous figure drop lightly over thestarboard rail of the Polly far forward, pick up a small traveling-bagfrom the pier, step behind the opportune screen of a load of coffee ona flat car, and reappear to view only as a momentary swish of skirt faraway at the shore end; if this same maid told Mr. Thatcher Brewster,half an hour later, that Miss Polly was asleep in her stateroom, andbegged that she be disturbed on no account, as she was utterly worn out,who shall blame her for her silence on the one occasion or her speechon the other? She was but obeying, albeit with tearful misgivings, dulyconstituted authority.
Eight o'clock struck on the bell of the little Protestant mission churchon the tiny plaza; struck and was welcomed by the echoes, and passedalong to eventual silence. Within two minutes after, there was a specialstir and movement on the pier, a corresponding stir and movement onboard the trim craft, a swishing of great ropes, and a tooting ofwhistles. White foam churned astern of her. A comic-supplement-lookingpelican on a buoy off to port flapped her a fantastic farewell. Theblockade-defying yacht Polly was off for blue waters and the freedom ofthe seas.
On the shore, feeling woefully helpless and alone, she who had beenthe jewel and joy of the Polly bit her lips and closed her eyes, in atremulous struggle against the dismal fear:--
"Suppose he doesn't love me, after all!"