Stowell did not go below that night. For two hours he tramped the
deck, laughing to himself like a lunatic.
"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!"
When the watch had to be changed at two o'clock he sent the man to
his berth and took his place. And when the dawn broke and the lamps
of the fishing fleet blinked out, and the boats showed grey, like
ghosts, on the colourless waste around, and the monotonous chanting
of the crews far and near told him the nets were being hauled in, he
shouted down the fo'c'sle for the men. And when they came on deck he
helped them to haul in their own net and to empty their catch (it was
the Governor's order) into the first "Nickey" that came along.
The grey sky in the east had reddened to a flame by this time. Then
up from the round rim of the sea rose the everlasting sun, and lo, it
was day! God, what an enchanted world it was! All the glory and
majesty of the sea seemed to be singing hymns to the same tune as
that of his own heart:
"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!"
A light wind sprang up, a cool blowing from the south, just enough to
ripple the surface of the water. Already some of the fishing boats
had swung about and were standing off for home. Stowell helped to
haul the mainsail, and shouted with the men as they pulled at the
ropes and the white canvas rose above them.
"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!"
Within half an hour the wind had freshened to a summer gale and they
were running before a roaring sea. The sails bellied out, the yacht
listed over, the scuppers were half full of water, but Stowell would
not go below. For a long hour more he held on and looked around at
the fishing boats as they flew together in the brilliant sunshine
between the two immensities of sky and sea.
"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!"
Helloa! Here was his own little island with the sun riding over the
mountain-tops! The plunging and rearing of the yacht gave the notion
that the mountains were nodding to him. "Good morning, son." What
nonsense came into a man's head when his heart was glad!
"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!"
Ah, here were the cliffs of the Calf, with their hoary heads in the
flying sky and their feet in the thunder of the sea! And here was
the brown-belted lighthouse of the Chicken Rock, which Fenella and he
had picked up last night! And here was the shoulder of Spanish Head,
and here was the belly of the Chasms, ringing with the cry of ten
thousand sea fowl!
"She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!"
Suddenly there came a shock. They were opening the bay of Port St.
Mary, with the little fishing town lying asleep along its sheltered
arm, when he saw across the Poolvaish (the pool of death) the grey
walls of Castle Rushen, and the long reach of Langness. And then
memory flowed back on him like a tidal wave.
Derby Haven! The old maids' house! The girl burning her candle in
her bedroom to educate herself that she might become worthy to be his
wife!
"Oh God! Oh God!"
If Fenella loved him he had stolen her love. He had no right to it,
being married already, virtually married--bound by every tie that
could hold an honourable man.
He felt like a traitor--a traitor to Fenella now. He recalled what
he had said last night. One step more and----
Thank God, he had gone no farther! If he had allowed Fenella to
engage herself to him, and then the facts about Bessie Collister had
become known, as they might have done through Dan Baldromma----
He must go. He must go immediately. His miserable mistake must not
bring disgrace on Fenella also.
The yacht was sliding into the slack water of the bay, and the
row-boats of the fish-buyers, each flying its little flag, were
coming out to meet the fishing boats, when Stowell went down to the
saloon--still dark with its blue silk curtains over skylight and
portholes.
He took off his fisherman's clothes, put on his own, and sat down at
the table to scribble a note to the Governor:
"Excuse me! I must go up to Douglas by the first train. Have
just remembered an important engagement.