And no less incredible than this it was to feel his cheek pressed,
very gently, against my hair--
After a little my self-control came back to me. I stopped my
senseless childish crying, lifted my head and tried to speak. I
could only whisper, "You came, you came!"
"Of course I came!" he said huskily. "There, don't tremble so--you
are safe--safe in my arms!"
After a while he lifted me into the stern and began to maneuver the
boat out of the cave. I suppose at another time I should have
realized the peril of it. The fierce flow through the archway all
but swamped us, the current threatened to hurl us against the
rocks, but I felt no fear. He had come to save me, and he would.
All at once the dreadful shadow of the cavern was left behind, and
the sunshine immersed my chilled body like a draught of wine. I
lay huddled in the stern, my cheek upon my hand, as he rowed
swiftly across the cove and drove the boat upon the beach.
Everybody but Captain Magnus was assembled there, including Crusoe.
Crusoe it was who had given warning of my danger. Like a wise
little dog, when I ignored his admonitions he had run home. At
first his uneasiness and troubled barking had got no notice. Once
or twice the Scotchman, worried by his fretfulness, had ordered him
away. Then across his preoccupied mind there flashed a doubt. He
laid down his tools and spoke to the animal. Instantly Crusoe
dashed for the rocks, barking and crying with eagerness. But the
path was closed, the tide was hurrying in, and Crusoe whined
pitiably as he crept back and crouched against the man who of
course knew better than a little dog what must be done.
Then Mr. Shaw understood. He snatched the painter of the boat and
dragged it down the beach. He was shoving off as Cookie, roused by
Crusoe's barking, appeared from the seclusion of his afternoon
siesta. To him were borne the Scotchman's parting words:
"Virginia Harding--in the cave--hot blankets--may be drowning--"
"And at dat," said Cookie, relating his part in the near-tragedy
with unction, "I jes' natchully plumped right down on mah ma'ah
bones and wrestled with de Lawd in prayah."
This unique proceeding on Cookie's part necessarily awoke the
interest both of the recovered Cuthbert Vane, just emerging after
his prolonged slumbers, and of the trio who had that moment
returned from the woods. Importuned for an explanation, Cookie
arose from his devotional posture and put the portentous query:
"Mistah Vane, sah, be dey any propah coffin-wood on dis yere
island?"
Instantly connecting my absence with this terrible question, Aunt
Jane shrieked and fell into the arms of Mr. Tubbs. I got the story
from Cuthbert Vane, and I must say I was unpleasantly struck by the
facility with which my aunt seemed to have fallen into Mr. Tubbs's
embrace--as if with the ease of habit. Mr. Tubbs, it appeared, had
staggered a little under his fair burden, which was not to be
wondered at, for Aunt Jane is of an overflowing style of figure and
Mr. Tubbs more remarkable for brain than brawn. Violet, however,
had remained admirably calm, and exhorted Aunt Jane to remember
that whatever happened it was all for the best.
"Poor Violet," I commented. "To think that after all it didn't
happen!"
A slow flush rose to the cheeks of the beautiful youth. He
was sitting beside the hammock, where I was supposed to be
recuperating. Of course it was to please Aunt Jane that I had to
be an invalid, and she had insisted on mounting guard and reading
aloud from one of Miss Browne's books about Psycho-evolution or
something until Cuthbert Vane came along and relieved her--and me.
"It would have happened, though," said the Honorable Cuthbert
solemnly, "if it hadn't been for old Shaw. I can't get over it,
Vir--Miss Virginia, that I wasn't on deck myself, you know. Here's
old Dugald been doing the heroic all his life, and now he gets his
chance again while I'm sleeping off those bally cocoanuts. It's
hard on a chap. I--I wish it had been me."
However dubious his grammar, there was no mistaking the look that
brightened like the dawn in the depths of his clear eyes. My
breath went from me suddenly.
"Oh," I cried excitedly, "isn't that---yes, I _thought_ it was the
dinner gong!"
For as if in response to my dire need, the clang of Cookie's gong
echoed through the island silences.
X