IN WHICH IS SHIPWRECK
It must be understood that our party on the _Belle Helene_ was divided
into two, or rather, indeed, three camps, each somewhat sharply
defined and each somewhat ignorant of the other's doings in detail.
The combination of either two against the other, in organized mutiny,
might very well prove successful, wherefore it was my task to keep all
apart by virtue of the authority which I had myself usurped. The
midship's cabin suite, of three rooms, was occupied by myself and my
two bold young mates--when the latter were not elsewhere engaged. We
made what might be called the ruling classes. Forward of our cabin,
and accessible only from the deck, was the engine-room where Williams
worked, and off this were two bunks, well ventilated and very
comfortable, occupied by Williams and Peterson. Forward of this, and
also accessible only from the deck, lay the dining saloon, with its
fixed table, its cupboards, dish racks and wine-room. In her bows and
below the saloon was the cook's gallery, a dumb-waiter running
between; and the sleeping quarters of John, the cook, and Willy, the
deck-hand, were in the forecastle below. This left the two captives
all the after part of the ship pretty much to themselves, and as the
after-suite of cabins was roomy and fitted with every modern nautical
luxury, they lacked neither freedom nor comfort, so far as these may
obtain on shipboard. Obviously, I said little to the ship's crew,
except to Peterson, and my two mates had orders to keep to their own
part of the ship, under my eye.
Thus, like ancient Gaul, divided into three parts, we sailed on our
wholly indefinite voyage; and all I could do was to live from day to
day, or hour to hour. I was content, for Helena was there. Indeed, I
question if, these last three years, her image had not been always
present in my consciousness; such are the fevers of our unreasoning
blood, such the power of that madness known as love.
But, thus divided as was our company, I had none such excellent
opportunity for often seeing Helena, as might at first be supposed.
She and her aunt refused to join us at any meal in the dining saloon;
although, now and then, they came for breakfast to what Auntie Lucinda
with scorn called the "second table". It was not feasible for me,
often, to do more than call of a morning to inquire if all was well
with them; and conversation through a lead-glass transom is not what
one would call intimate. Helena could bar her door if she liked in
more ways than one; and against the fences that she raised against me
one way or another, what with headaches, whims or Aunt Lucinda, I had
now no chance to meet her alone save as she herself might dictate. So
that, after all, though now I stood as commander of the _Belle Helene_
in place of yon varlet, Cal Davidson, although I ate his ship's
stores, wore, indeed, his waistcoats and his neckties when that was
humanly possible, I was his successor only and not his equal. He
could--nay, had done so--meet Helena as he liked, at meals, on deck,
on a thousand errands, whereas I was helpless to do so. He could talk
with her all over the ship, take her alone on deck of a moonlit night,
listen to her sing, gaze--oh, curse him!--on the little curls on
Helena's neck--but no! I could not endure that thought. The round
white neck, the white shoulders, the soft curves beneath the
peignoir's careless irreverences--why, it was an intolerable thought
that any man should raise eye or heart or thought to Helena, save
myself. So, this morning, after that rare and unconventional meeting
on the after deck, one easily may see how much I wished all Gaul were
divided into but two parts, and that the occupants of the reserved
after cabin would come to lunch in the saloon with their captors,
Black Bart, Jean Lafitte and Henri L'Olonnois.
Now, 'tis an odd thing, but one of my superstitions, that when we wish
much and fervently and cleanly for any certain thing, one day that
thing is ours. Some day, some time, some hour or instant, our dear
desire, our coveted thing, our wish, comes and flutters and alights at
our side; if really we have deserved it and have wished long and
deeply and honestly and purposefully. You ask proof? Well, then,
hardly had we three, Black Bart, Jean Lafitte and Henri L'Olonnois,
seated ourselves at table for luncheon that day before I became
sensible of a faint shadow at the saloon stair. I saw a trim boot and
a substantial ankle which I knew belonged to Aunt Lucinda; and then I
looked up and saw on the deck Helena also, stooped, her clean-cut
head, with its blown dark hair, visible against the blue sky.
"May I come in?" she asked gaily enough. And I reached up next to her
to hand her down, and smooth down her skirt for her at the rather
awkward narrow stair.
"You are always invited," said I, and perhaps I flushed in my
pleasure. "John," I called down the tube, "two more--the ladies." And
I heard his calm "All lite."
My young gentlemen had risen, politely, but Helena gently pushed them
down into their places. "Be seated here, ladies," said I. "These
places are, as you see, always spread for you. Your covers wait. And
all the ship's silver shall see duty now. L'Olonnois, my hearty, you
and I shall serve, eh? I am, indeed, delighted--greatly delighted--I
shall not inquire, I shall only hope."
"Well," boomed the deep voice of Auntie Lucinda, "we came because we
did not like the look of things."
"To be sure, things are not looking bully," I assented vaguely.
"I mean the weather. It's getting black, and it's colder. And after
what you told me about the storms, and that lighthouse being blown
down----"
"My dear Mrs. Daniver," said I, helping her to her chair while
L'Olonnois served his Auntie Helena in like fashion, "you really must
not take one too seriously. That lighthouse fell over of its own
weight--the contractor's work was done shamefully."
"But you said it blew," ventured Helena.
"It blows, a little, now and then, to be sure, but never very much,
only enough to enable the oyster boats and shrimpers to get in. How
could we have oysters without a sailing breeze?"
"It's more than a breeze," said Aunt Lucinda. "My neuralgia tells
me----"
"It is fortunate that you honored us, my dear Mrs. Daniver," said I,
"for I have here in the cooler a bottle of ninety-three. I had an
inspiration. I knew you would come, for nothing in the world could
have pleased me so much."
I was looking at Helena, whose eyes were cast down. I observed now
that she was in somewhat elegant morning costume, her bridge coat of
Vienna lace, caught with a wide bar of plain gold, covering some soft
and shimmering under-bodice which fitted closely enough to be formal.
And I saw she had on many rings, and that her throat sparkled under a
circlet of gems.
She must have caught my glance of surprise, for she said nervously,
"You think we are overplaying our return call? Well, the truth is,
we're afraid."
"So then?"--and I bowed.
"So then I fished out all my jewelry."
"We are honored."
"Well, I didn't know what might happen. If one should be
shipwrecked----" I caught her frightened gaze out an open port,
perfectly aware myself of the swift weather change.
"There is nothing like dressing the part of the shipwrecked," said I.
"For myself, these same flannels will do."
"Pshaw!" said young L'Olonnois, "suppose she does pitch a little--it
ain't any worse'n on the _Mauretania_ when we went across. I ain't
scared, are you, John?"
"No," replied Jean Lafitte shyly. He was almost overawed with the
ladies. But I liked the look of his eye now.
"She's not as big as the _Mauretania_," said Helena, fixing
L'Olonnois' collar for him.
"I'm sure she's going to roll horribly," added Aunt Lucinda. "And if I
should be seasick, with my neuralgia, I'm sure I don't know what I
should do."
"_I_ know!" remarked L'Olonnois; and Helena promptly dropped her hand
over his mouth.
"Let us not think of storm and shipwreck," said I, "at least until
they come. I want to ask your attention to John's imitation of Luigi's
oysters _a la mariniere_. The oysters are of our own catching this
morning. For, you must know, the water hereabout is very shallow, and
is full of oysters."
"You said full of sharks," corrected Aunt Lucinda.
"Did I? I meant oysters." And I helped her to some from the
dumb-waiter and uncorked the very last bottle of the ninety-three left
in the case. "And as for this storm of which you speak, ladies," I
added as I poured, "I would there might come every day as ill a wind
if it would blow me as great a good as yourselves for luncheon."
"Yes," said L'Olonnois brightly, "you might blow in once in a while
an' see us fellers. I told Black Bart that captives----" but here I
kicked Jimmy under the table. Poor chap, what with his Auntie Helena's
hand at one extremity and my boot at the other, he was strained in his
conversation, and in disgust, joined Jean Lafitte in complete silence
and oysters.
"Really," and Helena raised her eyes, "isn't it growing colder?"
"Jean, close the port behind Miss Emory," said I. It was plain enough
to my mind that a blue norther was breaking, with its swift drop in
temperature and its possibly high wind.
"The table's actin' funny," commented Jean Lafitte presently. He had
never been at sea before.
"Yes," said Aunt Lucinda, with very much--too much--dignity. "If you
all will please excuse me, I think I shall go back to the cabin.
Helena!"
"Go with Mrs. Daniver at once, Jimmy," said I to L'Olonnois.
"Aye, aye, Sir!" saluted he joyously; and added aside as he passed me,
"Hope the old girl's going to be good an' sick!"
I could see Peterson standing near the saloon's door, and bethought me
to send Jean Lafitte up to aid him in making all shipshape. We were
beginning to roll; and I missed the smooth thrust of both our
propellors, although now the engines were purring smoothly enough.
Thus by mere chance, I found myself alone with Helena. I put out a
hand to steady her as she rose.
"Is it really going to be bad?" she inquired anxiously. "Auntie gets
_so_ sick."
"It will be rough, for three hours yet," I admitted. "She's not so big
as the _Mauretania_, but as well built for her tonnage. You couldn't
pound her apart, no matter what came--she's oak and cedar, through and
through, and every point----"
"You've studied her well, since you--since you came aboard?"
--"Yes, yes, to be sure I have. And she's worth her name. Don't you
think it was mighty fine of--of Mr. Davidson to name her after
you--the _Belle Helene_?"
"He never did. If he had, why?"
"Don't ask such questions, with the glass falling as it is," I said,
pulling up the racks to restrain the dancing tumblers.
"Oh, don't joke!" she said. "Harry!"
"Yes, Helena," said I.
"I'm afraid!"
"Why?"
"I don't know. But we seem so little and the sea so big. And it's
getting black, and the fog is coming. Look--you can't see the
shore-line any more now."
It was as she said. The swift bank of vapor had blotted out the
low-lying shores entirely. We sailed now in a narrowing circle of
mist. I saw thin points of moisture on the port lights. And now I
began to close the ports.
"There _is_ danger!" she reiterated.
"All horses can run away, all auto cars can blow up, all boats can
sink. But we have as good charts and compasses as the _Mauretania_,
and in three hours----"
"But much can happen in three hours."
"Much has happened in less time. It did not take me so long as that to
love you, Helena, and that I have not forgotten in more than five
years. Five years, Helena. And as to shipwreck, what does one more
matter? It is you who have made shipwreck of a man's life. Take shame
for that."
"Take shame yourself, to talk in this way to me, when I am helpless,
when I can't get away, when I'm troubled and frightened half to death?
Ah, fine of you to persecute a girl!" She sobbed, choking a little,
but her head high. "Let me out, I'm going to Auntie Lucinda. I hate
you more and more. If I were to drown, I'd not take aid from you."
"Do you mean that, Helena?" I asked, more than the chill of the
norther in my blood.
"Yes, I mean it. You are a _coward_!"
I stood for quite a time between her and the companion stair, my hand
still offering aid as she swayed in the boat's roll now. I was
thinking, and I was very sad.
"Helena," said I, "perhaps you have won. That's a hard word to take
from man or woman. If it is in any way true, you have won and I have
lost, and deserved to lose. But now, since little else remains, let me
arrange matters as simply as I can. I'll admit there's an element of
risk in our situation--one screw is out of commission, and one engine
might be better. If we missed the channel west of the shoals, we
might go aground--I hope not. Whether we do or not, I want to tell
you--over yonder, forty or fifty miles, is the channel running inland,
which was my objective point all along. I know this coast in the dark,
like a book. Now, I promise you, I'll take you in there to friends of
mine, people of your own class, and no one shall suspect one jot of
all this, other than that we were driven out of our course. And once
there, you are free. You never will see my face again. I will do this,
as a ship's man, for you, and if need comes, will give my life to keep
you safe. It's about all a coward can do for you. Now go, and if any
time of need comes for me to call you, you will be called. And you
will be cared for by the ship's men. And because I am head of the
ship's men, you will do as I say. But I hope no need for this will
come. Yonder is our course, where she heads now, and soon you will be
free from me. You have wrecked me. Now I am derelict, from this time
on. Good-by."
I heard footfalls above. "Mrs. Daniver's compliments to Captain Black
Bart," saluted L'Olonnois, "an' would he send my Auntie Helena back,
because she's offle sick."
"Take good care of your Auntie Helena, Jimmy," said I, "and help her
aft along the rail."
I followed up the companionway, and saw her going slowly, head down,
her coat of lace blown wide; her hand at her throat, and sobbing in
what Jimmy and I both knew was fear of the storm.
"Have they got everything they need there, Jimmy?" I asked, as he
returned.
"Sure. And the old girl's going to have a peach of a one this
time--she can't hardly rock in a rockin' chair 'thout gettin' seasick.
I think it's great, don't you? Look at her buck into 'em!"
Jimmy and his friend shared this immunity from _mal de mer_. I could
see Jean now helping haul down our burgee, and the deck boy, Willy, in
his hurried work about the boat. Williams, I could not see. But
Peterson was now calm and much in his element, for a better skipper
than he never sailed a craft on the Great Lakes.
"I think she's going to blow great guns," said he, "and like enough
the other engine'll pop any minute."
"Yes?" I answered, stepping to the wheel. "In which case we go to Davy
Jones about when, Peterson?"
"We don't go!" he rejoined. "She's the grandest little ship afloat,
and not a thing's the matter with her."
"Can we make the channel and run inside the long key below the Cote
Blanche Bayou?"
"Sure we can. You'd better get the covers off the boats, and see the
bottom plugs in and some water and supplies shipped aboard--but
there's not the slightest danger in the world for _this_ boat, let me
tell you that, sir. I've seen her perform before now, and there's not
a storm can blow on this coast she won't ride through."