CHAPTER II
THE SURVIVORS
When the _Sirdar_ parted amidships, the floor of the saloon heavedup in the center with a mighty crash of rending woodwork and iron. Menand women, too stupefied to sob out a prayer, were pitched headlonginto chaos. Iris, torn from the terrified grasp of her maid, fellthrough a corridor, and would have gone down with the ship had not asailor, clinging to a companion ladder, caught her as she whirled alongthe steep slope of the deck.
He did not know what had happened. With the instinct ofself-preservation he seized the nearest support when the vessel struck.It was the mere impulse of ready helpfulness that caused him to stretchout his left arm and clasp the girl's waist as she fluttered past. Byidle chance they were on the port side, and the ship, after pausing forone awful second, fell over to starboard.
The man was not prepared for this second gyration. Even as the stairwaycanted he lost his balance; they were both thrown violently through theopen hatchway, and swept off into the boiling surf. Under suchconditions thought itself was impossible. A series of impressions, anumber of fantastic pictures, were received by the benumbed faculties,and afterwards painfully sorted out by the memory. Fear, anguish,amazement--none of these could exist. All he knew was that the lifelessform of a woman--for Iris had happily fainted--must be held until deathitself wrenched her from him. Then there came the headlong plunge intothe swirling sea, followed by an indefinite period of gasping oblivion.Something that felt like a moving rock rose up beneath his feet. He wasdriven clear out of the water and seemed to recognize a familiar objectrising rigid and bright close at hand. It was the binnacle pillar,screwed to a portion of the deck which came away from the charthouseand was rent from the upper framework by contact with the reef.
He seized this unlooked-for support with his disengaged hand. For onefleet instant he had a confused vision of the destruction of the ship.Both the fore and aft portions were burst asunder by the force ofcompressed air. Wreckage and human forms were tossing about foolishly.The sea pounded upon the opposing rocks with the noise of ten thousandmighty steam-hammers.
A uniformed figure--he thought it was the captain--stretched out anunavailing arm to clasp the queer raft which supported the sailor andthe girl. But a jealous wave rose under the platform with devilishenergy and turned it completely over, hurling the man with hisinanimate burthen into the depths. He rose, fighting madly for hislife. Now surely he was doomed! But again, as if human existencedepended on naught more serious than the spinning of a coin, his kneesrested on the same few staunch timbers, now the ceiling of themusic-room, and he was given a brief respite. His greatest difficultywas to get his breath, so dense was the spray through which he wasdriven. Even in that terrible moment he kept his senses. The girl,utterly unconscious, showed by the convulsive heaving of her breastthat she was choking. With a wild effort he swung her head round toshield her from the flying scud with his own form.
The tiny air-space thus provided gave her some relief, and in thatinstant the sailor seemed to recognize her. He was not remotely capableof a definite idea. Just as he vaguely realized the identity of thewoman in his arms the unsteady support on which he rested toppled over.Again he renewed the unequal contest. A strong resolute man and atyphoon sea wrestled for supremacy.
This time his feet plunged against something gratefully solid. He wasdashed forward, still battling with the raging turmoil of water, and asecond time he felt the same firm yet smooth surface. His dormantfaculties awoke. It was sand. With frenzied desperation, buoyed now bythe inspiring hope of safety, he fought his way onwards like a maniac.
Often he fell, three times did the backwash try to drag him to theswirling death behind, but he staggered blindly on, on, until even thetearing gale ceased to be laden with the suffocating foam, and hisfaltering feet sank in deep soft white sand.
WITH FRENZIED DESPERATION, BUOYED NOW BY THE INSPIRINGHOPE OF SAFETY, HE FOUGHT HIS WAY ONWARD LIKE A MANIAC.]
Then he fell, not to rise again. With a last weak flicker of exhaustedstrength he drew the girl closely to him, and the two lay, claspedtightly together, heedless now of all things.
How long the man remained prostrate he could only guess subsequently.The _Sirdar_ struck soon after daybreak and the sailor awoke to ahazy consciousness of his surroundings to find a shaft of sunshineflickering through the clouds banked up in the east. The gale wasalready passing away. Although the wind still whistled with shrillviolence it was more blustering than threatening. The sea, too, thoughrunning very high, had retreated many yards from the spot where he hadfinally dropped, and its surface was no longer scourged with venomousspray.
Slowly and painfully he raised himself to a sitting posture, for he wasbruised and stiff. With his first movement he became violently ill. Hehad swallowed much salt water, and it was not until the spasm ofsickness had passed that he thought of the girl.
She had slipped from his breast as he rose, and was lying, facedownwards, in the sand. The memory of much that had happened surgedinto his brain with horrifying suddenness.
"She cannot be dead," he hoarsely murmured, feebly trying to lift her."Surely Providence would not desert her after such an escape. What aweak beggar I must be to give in at the last moment. I am sure she wasliving when we got ashore. What on earth can I do to revive her?"
Forgetful of his own aching limbs in this newborn anxiety, he sank onone knee and gently pillowed Iris's head and shoulders on the other.Her eyes were closed, her lips and teeth firmly set--a fact to whichshe undoubtedly owed her life, else she would have been suffocated--andthe pallor of her skin seemed to be that terrible bloodless hue whichindicates death. The stern lines in the man's face relaxed, andsomething blurred his vision. He was weak from exhaustion and want offood. For the moment his emotions were easily aroused.
"Oh, it is pitiful," he almost whimpered. "It cannot be!"
With a gesture of despair he drew the sleeve of his thick jersey acrosshis eyes to clear them from the gathering mist. Then he tremblinglyendeavored to open the neck of her dress and unclasp her corsets. Hehad a vague notion that ladies in a fainting condition required suchtreatment, and he was desperately resolved to bring Iris Deane back toconscious existence if it were possible. His task was rendereddifficult by the waistband of her dress. He slipped out a clasp-knifeand opened the blade.
Not until then did he discover that the nail of the forefinger on hisright hand had been torn out by the quick, probably during hisendeavors to grasp the unsteady support which contributed so materiallyto his escape. It still hung by a shred and hindered the free use ofhis hand. Without any hesitation he seized the offending nail in histeeth and completed the surgical operation by a rapid jerk.
Bending to resume his task he was startled to find the girl's eyes wideopen and surveying him with shadowy alarm. She was quite conscious,absurdly so in a sense, and had noticed his strange action.
"Thank God!" he cried hoarsely. "You are alive."
Her mind as yet could only work in a single groove.
"Why did you do that?" she whispered.
"Do what?"
"Bite your nail off!"
"It was in my way. I wished to cut open your dress at the waist. Youwere collapsed, almost dead, I thought, and I wanted to unfasten yourcorsets."
Her color came back with remarkable rapidity. From all the rich varietyof the English tongue few words could have been selected of suchrestorative effect.
She tried to assume a sitting posture, and instinctively her handstraveled to her disarranged costume.
"How ridiculous!" she said, with a little note of annoyance in hervoice, which sounded curiously hollow. But her brave spirit could notyet command her enfeebled frame. She was perforce compelled to sinkback to the support of his knee and arm.
"Do you think you could lie quiet until I try to find some water?" hegasped anxiously.
She nodded a childlike acquiescence, and her eyelids fell. It was onlythat her eyes smarted dreadfully from the salt water, but the sailorwas s
ure that this was a premonition of a lapse to unconsciousness.
"Please try not to faint again," he said. "Don't you think I had betterloosen these things? You can breathe more easily."
A ghost of a smile flickered on her lips. "No--no," she murmured. "Myeyes hurt me--that is all. Is there--any--water?"
He laid her tenderly on the sand and rose to his feet. His first glancewas towards the sea. He saw something which made him blink withastonishment. A heavy sea was still running over the barrier reef whichenclosed a small lagoon. The contrast between the fierce commotionoutside and the comparatively smooth surface of the protected pool wasvery marked. At low tide the lagoon was almost completely isolated.Indeed, he imagined that only a fierce gale blowing from the north-westwould enable the waves to leap the reef, save where a strip of brokenwater, surging far into the small natural harbor, betrayed the positionof the tiny entrance.
Yet at this very point a fine cocoanut palm reared its stately columnhigh in air, and its long tremulous fronds were now swinging wildlybefore the gale. From where he stood it appeared to be growing in themidst of the sea, for huge breakers completely hid the coralembankment. This sentinel of the land had a weirdly impressive effect.It was the only fixed object in the waste of foam-capped waves. Not avestige of the _Sirdar_ remained seaward, but the sand waslittered with wreckage, and--mournful spectacle!--a considerable numberof inanimate human forms lay huddled up amidst the relics of thesteamer.
This discovery stirred him to action. He turned to survey the land onwhich he was stranded with his helpless companion. To his great reliefhe discovered that it was lofty and tree-clad. He knew that the shipcould not have drifted to Borneo, which still lay far to the south.This must be one of the hundreds of islands which stud the China Seaand provide resorts for Hainan fishermen. Probably it was inhabited,though he thought it strange that none of the islanders had put in anappearance. In any event, water and food, of some sort, were assured.
But before setting out upon his quest two things demanded attention.The girl must be removed from her present position. It would be toohorrible to permit her first conscious gaze to rest upon those crumpledobjects on the beach. Common humanity demanded, too, that he shouldhastily examine each of the bodies in case life was not wholly extinct.
So he bent over the girl, noting with sudden wonder that, weak as shewas, she had managed to refasten part of her bodice.
"You must permit me to carry you a little further inland," he explainedgently.
Without another word he lifted her in his arms, marveling somewhat atthe strength which came of necessity, and bore her some littledistance, until a sturdy rock, jutting out of the sand, offered shelterfrom the wind and protection from the sea and its revelations.
"I am so cold, and tired," murmured Iris. "Is there any water? Mythroat hurts me."
He pressed back the tangled hair from her forehead as he might soothe achild.
"Try to lie still for a very few minutes," he said.
"You have not long to suffer. I will return immediately."
His own throat and palate were on fire owing to the brine, but he firsthurried back to the edge of the lagoon. There were fourteen bodies inall, three women and eleven men, four of the latter being Lascars. Thewomen were saloon passengers whom he did not know. One of the men wasthe surgeon, another the first officer, a third Sir John Tozer. Therest were passengers and members of the crew. They were all dead; somehad been peacefully drowned, others were fearfully mangled by therocks. Two of the Lascars, bearing signs of dreadful injuries, werelying on a cluster of low rocks overhanging the water. The remainderrested on the sand.
The sailor exhibited no visible emotion whilst he conducted his sadscrutiny. When he was assured that this silent company was beyondmortal help he at once strode away towards the nearest belt of trees.He could not tell how long the search for water might be protracted,and there was pressing need for it.
When he reached the first clump of brushwood he uttered a delightedexclamation. There, growing in prodigal luxuriance, was the beneficentpitcher-plant, whose large curled-up leaf, shaped like a teacup, notonly holds a lasting quantity of rain-water, but mixes therewith itsown palatable and natural juices.
With his knife he severed two of the leaves, swearing emphatically thewhile on account of his damaged finger, and hastened to Iris with theprecious beverage. She heard him and managed to raise herself on anelbow.
The poor girl's eyes glistened at the prospect of relief. Without aword of question or surprise she swallowed the contents of both leaves.
Then she found utterance. "How odd it tastes! What is it?" sheinquired.
But the eagerness with which she quenched her thirst renewed his ownmomentarily forgotten torture. His tongue seemed to swell. He wasabsolutely unable to reply.
The water revived Iris like a magic draught. Her quick intuition toldher what had happened.
"You have had none yourself," she cried. "Go at once and get some. Andplease bring me some more."
He required no second bidding. After hastily gulping down the contentsof several leaves he returned with a further supply. Iris was nowsitting up. The sun had burst royally through the clouds, and herchilled limbs were gaining some degree of warmth and elasticity.
"What is it?" she repeated after another delicious draught.
"The leaf of the pitcher-plant. Nature is not always cruel. In anunusually generous mood she devised this method of storing water."
Miss Deane reached out her hand for more. Her troubled brain refused towonder at such a reply from an ordinary seaman. The sailor deliberatelyspilled the contents of a remaining leaf on the sand.
"No, madam," he said, with an odd mixture of deference and firmness."No more at present. I must first procure you some food."
She looked up at him in momentary silence.
"The ship is lost?" she said after a pause.
"Yes, madam."
"Are we the only people saved?"
"I fear so."
"Is this a desert island?"
"I think not, madam. It may, by chance, be temporarily uninhabited, butfishermen from China come to all these places to collect tortoise-shelland _beche-de-mer_. I have seen no other living beings exceptourselves; nevertheless, the islanders may live on the south side."
Another pause. Amidst the thrilling sensations of the moment Iris foundherself idly speculating as to the meaning of _beche-de-mer_, andwhy this common sailor pronounced French so well. Her thoughts revertedto the steamer.
"It surely cannot be possible that the _Sirdar_ has gone topieces--a magnificent vessel of her size and strength?"
He answered quietly--"It is too true, madam. I suppose you hardly knewshe struck, it happened so suddenly. Afterwards, fortunately for you,you were unconscious."
"How do you know?" she inquired quickly. A flood of vivid recollectionwas pouring in upon her.
"I--er--well, I happened to be near you, madam, when the ship broke up,and we--er--drifted ashore together."
She rose and faced him. "I remember now," she cried hysterically. "Youcaught me as I was thrown into the corridor. We fell into the sea whenthe vessel turned over. You have saved my life. Were it not for you Icould not possibly have escaped."
She gazed at him more earnestly, seeing that he blushed beneath thecrust of salt and sand that covered his face. "Why," she went on withgrowing excitement, "you are the steward I noticed in the saloonyesterday. How is it that you are now dressed as a sailor?"
He answered readily enough. "There was an accident on board during thegale, madam. I am a fair sailor but a poor steward, so I applied for atransfer. As the crew were short-handed my offer was accepted."
Iris was now looking at him intently.
"You saved my life," she repeated slowly. It seemed that this obviousfact needed to be indelibly established in her mind. Indeed the girlwas overwrought by all that she had gone through. Only by degrees wereher thoughts marshaling themselves with lucid coherence. As yet, sherecalled so
many dramatic incidents that they failed to assume dueproportion.
But quickly there came memories of Captain Ross, of Sir John and LadyTozer, of the doctor, her maid, the hundred and one individualities ofher pleasant life aboard ship. Could it be that they were all dead? Thenotion was monstrous. But its ghastly significance was instantly bornein upon her by the plight in which she stood. Her lips quivered; thetears trembled in her eyes.
"Is it really true that all the ship's company except ourselves arelost?" she brokenly demanded.
The sailor's gravely earnest glance fell before hers. "Unhappily thereis no room for doubt," he said.
"Are you quite, quite sure?"
"I am sure--of some." Involuntarily he turned seawards.
She understood him. She sank to her knees, covered her face with herhands, and broke into a passion of weeping. With a look of infinitepity he stooped and would have touched her shoulder, but he suddenlyrestrained the impulse. Something had hardened this man. It cost him aneffort to be callous, but he succeeded. His mouth tightened and hisexpression lost its tenderness.
"Come, come, my dear lady," he exclaimed, and there was a tinge ofstudied roughness in his voice, "you must calm yourself. It is thefortune of shipwreck as well as of war, you know. We are alive and mustlook after ourselves. Those who have gone are beyond our help."
"But not beyond our sympathy," wailed Iris, uncovering her swimmingeyes for a fleeting look at him. Even in the utter desolation of themoment she could not help marveling that this queer-mannered sailor,who spoke like a gentleman and tried to pose as her inferior, who hadrescued her with the utmost gallantry, who carried his Quixotic zeal tothe point of first supplying her needs when he was in far worse casehimself, should be so utterly indifferent to the fate of others.
He waited silently until her sobs ceased.
"Now, madam," he said, "it is essential that we should obtain somefood. I don't wish to leave you alone until we are better acquaintedwith our whereabouts. Can you walk a little way towards the trees, orshall I assist you?"
Iris immediately stood up. She pressed her hair back defiantly.
"Certainly I can walk," she answered. "What do you propose to do?"
"Well, madam--"
"What is your name?" she interrupted imperiously.
"Jenks, madam. Robert Jenks."
"Thank you. Now, listen, Mr. Robert Jenks. My name is Miss Iris Deane.On board ship I was a passenger and you were a steward--that is, untilyou became a seaman. Here we are equals in misfortune, but in all elseyou are the leader--I am quite useless. I can only help in matters byyour direction, so I do not wish to be addressed as 'madam' in everybreath. Do you understand me?"
Conscious that her large blue eyes were fixed indignantly upon him Mr.Robert Jenks repressed a smile. She was still hysterical and must behumored in her vagaries. What an odd moment for a discussion onetiquette!
"As you wish, Miss Deane," he said. "The fact remains that I have manythings to attend to, and we really must eat something."
"What can we eat?"
"Let us find out," he replied, scanning the nearest trees with keenscrutiny.
They plodded together through the sand in silence. Physically, theywere a superb couple, but in raiment they resembled scarecrows. Both,of course, were bare-headed. The sailor's jersey and trousers were oldand torn, and the sea-water still soughed loudly in his heavy bootswith each step.
But Iris was in a deplorable plight. Her hair fell in a great wave ofgolden brown strands over her neck and shoulders. Every hairpin hadvanished, but with a few dexterous twists she coiled the flying tressesinto a loose knot. Her beautiful muslin dress was rent and draggled. Itwas drying rapidly under the ever-increasing power of the sun, and shesurreptitiously endeavored to complete the fastening of the openportion about her neck. Other details must be left until a morefavorable opportunity.
She recalled the strange sight that first met her eyes when sherecovered consciousness.
"You hurt your finger," she said abruptly. "Let me see it."
They had reached the shelter of the trees, pleasantly grateful now, sopowerful are tropical sunbeams at even an early hour.
He held out his right hand without looking at her. Indeed, his eyes hadbeen studiously averted during the past few minutes. Her womanlyfeelings were aroused by the condition of the ragged wound.
"Oh, you poor fellow," she said. "How awful it must be! How did ithappen? Let me tie it up."
"It is not so bad now," he said. "It has been well soaked in saltwater, you know. I think the nail was torn off when we--when a piece ofwreckage miraculously turned up beneath us."
Iris shredded a strip from her dress. She bound the finger with defttenderness.
"Thank you," he said simply. Then he gave a glad shout. "By Jove! MissDeane, we are in luck's way. There is a fine plantain tree."
The pangs of hunger could not be resisted. Although the fruit washardly ripe they tore at the great bunches and ate ravenously. Irismade no pretence in the matter, and the sailor was in worse plight, forhe had been on duty continuously since four o'clock the previousafternoon.
At last their appetite was somewhat appeased, though plantains mightnot appeal to a gourmand as the solitary joint.
"Now," decided Jenks, "you must rest here a little while, Miss Deane. Iam going back to the beach. You need not be afraid. There are noanimals to harm you, and I will not be far away."
"What are you going to do on the beach?" she demanded.
"To rescue stores, for the most part."
"May I not come with you--I can be of some little service, surely?"
He answered slowly: "Please oblige me by remaining here at present. Inless than an hour I will return, and then, perhaps, you will findplenty to do."
She read his meaning intuitively and shivered. "I could not do_that_," she murmured. "I would faint. Whilst you are away I willpray for them--my unfortunate friends."
As he passed from her side he heard her sobbing quietly.
When he reached the lagoon he halted suddenly. Something startled him.He was quite certain that he had counted fourteen corpses. Now therewere only twelve. The two Lascars' bodies, which rested on the smallgroup of rocks on the verge of the lagoon, had vanished.
Where had they gone to?