WASHED ASHORE
They had both slept again by the time that the morning broke with the
suddenness of the tropics, while the coming of the sun was heralded by
the pale primrose hue which all who have been between Capricorn and
Cancer know so well; that hue being followed by the vermilion and
golden shafts of light, and then by a deep blood-red tinge which
suffused all the horizon. They had slept uneasily, each in their
place; with--outside, near the opening of the little cave under the
knoll--the tiger lying tranquilly as though keeping watch and ward
over her whom, probably, it deemed its friend and mistress. Yet, ever
and again, as she, while waking to regard it more than once--because
of the fear which Stephen's words had engendered in her mind--saw very
well, its yellow eyes peered out restlessly from their closed slits of
eyelids, the pupil of each eye being itself a horizontal slit only.
And she acknowledged that Charke had spoken aright, that the time had
come for the creature to be either imprisoned or made away with. All
its evil instincts were undoubtedly being developed with its growth;
soon, they would have obtained their full force and be, perhaps,
exerted. It was time.
But now the dawn was come, the blood-red of the Eastern sky was
plainly visible, and the birds of the island were twittering to each
other and pluming themselves; whereon the girl rose and left the cave,
and passed quietly by the creature lying so close to her as though in
fear of arousing it. In actual fear of it, indeed, since she did not
know but that it might turn and rend her at any moment. For it was big
enough and strong enough to do so now, its size being that of a large
retriever, or a year-old mastiff; and she, or he, even--that stalwart
muscular sailor--would probably have had little chance against it if
it had set upon them, since both were unarmed and both were weakened
and broken down by their struggles in the tempest-tossed waves.
Charke, seeing the girl rise from her recumbent position, rose also,
quickly and quietly, and came towards her, while as he did so he said:
'Now, to-day is the time for me to make that search round the island
which I promised you. We will but eat a little fruit, and then I will
set out.'
'Shall I go with you?' she asked, as, taking up the cocoanut shell,
she turned to go towards the rivulet that ran at her feet, 'or is it
better for me to remain here? Perhaps, too, it may be more than I can
do. Or, indeed,' she hastened to add, 'more than you can accomplish in
one day, and in such heat as there will be. Oh, Mr. Charke,' she
continued, 'you are not strong enough to undertake it yet!'
'I feel strong enough this morning,' he replied, 'and, if I cannot
make the whole tour of the place in one day, I can at least do a
considerable part of it. I will begin at once, before the sun becomes
too fierce. But, as for you, perhaps it would be best if you stayed
here. The outlook from this portion of the island is, I think, the one
from which any ship that happened to pass would be most likely to be
observed. You see, we look west from here, towards where Africa lies,
and vessels use that track in preference to running more out into the
open.'
'I will do anything you suggest,' she said. 'Anything you think will
be for the best. But'--and again there came upon her face that
stricken look which made his heart so sad for her, and which, whenever
he observed it, caused him to bury every sorrow for himself in a
more profound and unselfish one for her--'but--you know--I--I--at
present--just at present--for a day or so--do not wish to see a ship
come here to rescue us.'
'I know, I know,' he answered, not daring to keep his eyes fixed full
upon that lovely but unhappy face. 'I know. Well, we will not look out
for rescue yet. But, still, I think you had better stay here. We do
not know for certain the size of this island; it is only guesswork on
my part. It may be too far a walk, too much of an undertaking for you.
You are not afraid--of that?' he continued, as he directed his eyes
towards Bengalee, while seeing how, as he was speaking, she, too, had
let her glance fall upon the cub, which was now pacing restlessly
about at their feet.
'No,' she said, 'I am not. Yet what you said in the night was true. It
is growing beyond control, and, of course, I know how treacherous and
savage these animals are. It was a piece of girlish folly on my part
to beg poor uncle to save it.'
'I scarcely know how we are to make away with it,' he replied. 'I have
nothing but this,'--and he took from his pocket a little white-handled
penknife, which he had probably bought for a shilling off a card
exposed in a London shop window. 'I could hardly kill it with that.
However, one thing is certain, it will die of starvation ere long on
this island. It cannot live on fruit as we can, nor catch birds, and
there are no signs of animals, not even rats or mice, as far as I can
see.'
'Oh, poor thing; what a dreadful death to die!' the girl exclaimed,
her pity at once awakened for a creature which had been more or less
her pet for some few weeks. Yet she hastened to ask if starvation did
not make such animals even more fierce than usual, and if the risk to
them both would not, thereby, be increased. Then, before he could
reply, she suddenly exclaimed, as her glance fell on the sea, 'What
is that out there? Surely--surely--it is not a drowned man? Oh, not
that--not that!'
Following the direction of that glance, he saw something drifting
about on the tranquil, almost rippleless, water over which by now the
rays of the risen sun were gleaming horizontally. Something that,
since it was end-on towards them and the island, was not easily to be
distinguished, yet was, all the same, undoubtedly no drowned man nor
human body, alive or dead. At first he thought it might be a dead
shark--his knowledge of the sea telling him at once that it was not a
living one, since they never expose aught but the dorsal fin when
swimming--then, a second later, he recognised what the object was.
'No,' he exclaimed, anxious to appease her terrors at once--while
knowing to whom, and, above all others, to whose _dead_ body those
terrors pointed--'No, that is no body, living or dead. Instead, it is
one of our quarter-boats. Washed out of the chocks when the ship
turned on her side, no doubt, and floating about ever since.'
'It is coming nearer,' Bella exclaimed, her eyes still on it and full
of delight at hearing that in it there was, at least, no confirmation
of one awful fear; 'do you not think so?'
'Undoubtedly it is coming nearer. It will strike the shore just there
if the reef does not catch it'; and he pointed with sailor-like
certainty to a spot close by. 'It will be a mercy if it does.'
'Why? We could not escape from this place in that, could we?'
'Hundreds of sailors have escaped death in smaller boats than that;
ay, and lived for many days, too, on an open and rough sea in such
boats. But it is not for that only. If it comes ashore I can make a
visit to the poor old _Emperor_ and find out something, if not all,
that I--that we---want to know. While, though we need not put to sea
in it, we may use it to get to some other island which is inhabited,
by, perhaps, white men; but, anyhow, by some one. It will be of the
greatest assistance, especially as, since it floats, it must be
undamaged. I trust the oars, if not the sail, are in it.'
And now, listening to his words, Bella became as eager for the
quarter-boat to come ashore as her companion was, and, together, they
went down to the spot he had indicated as that which the boat was
likely to arrive at--a spot about sixty yards from where they were.
As Bella walked by her preserver's side she was wondering many things,
and especially if he would, indeed, be able now to discover what the
fate of the others in the _Emperor_ had been, and, above all, if, by
the aid of this boat, he would be enabled to solve for her the
question she hourly, momentarily, asked herself by day and night--the
question whether there was any hope left of a life of happiness and
bliss to be passed by her lover's side, or whether, for her, the
future could bring nothing but a joyless, heartbroken existence
henceforth. Also, she mused upon one other thing--namely, what Charke
was thinking of while, with his eyes never off the incoming boat, he
meditated deeply as, from his knit brows and fixed look, she felt sure
he was doing. The thoughts, those that actually were in his mind, he
would, undoubtedly, not have divulged, even though she had asked him
to do so, since they were such as could only have caused grief
unspeakable. For he was thinking that, since this quarter-boat had
been washed out of the chocks and off the deck into the sea, and had
then floated about for forty-eight hours in the neighbourhood previous
to being directed by some subtle current to the island, so other
things that were on deck would be subject to the same conditions. The
bodies of drowned men; the body of her lover! He knew that the sea and
its currents and tides work in calm weather with as much regularity as
the sun and the moon work in their rising and setting, and, indeed, as
the seasons themselves work; and he knew, also, that if Gilbert's
body--which was close to where the quarter-boat rested when the ship
struck--had been washed into the sea at the same time as it, then it
was most probable, nay, almost certain, that it also would come ashore
at the same spot and perhaps almost at the same time.
What horror, what fresh horror, would that be for this poor devoted
girl to experience! For, in his own heart, he never doubted for one
moment that somewhere close at hand the body of Gilbert Bampfyld was
floating about.
The boat was coming very close into the shore now, so close that they
could see that one oar was in it, but only one, and that there was
nothing else, while they observed, too, that the rudder was not fixed
in the braces. Yet that mattered little to Stephen Charke if he could
only once get possession of the boat itself, since with one oar on
such a glossy sheet of water as this ocean was now, he could propel
and steer it easily enough.
'I am glad, thankful, it is coming ashore,' he said now. 'I had
thought of swimming out to the ship, only I dreaded the sharks. Little
use as one's life may be, one would scarcely care to lose it by the
jaws of those brutes.'
And, though he did not see it, the girl by his side gave him a glance
such as would, perhaps, have cheered his heart had he done so. 'Was
not her own life, also, of little enough use,' she asked herself as he
spoke, 'to make her sympathise with his remark? Would it not be a
broken and dejected one, henceforth, if that which she dreaded, which
she had almost forced herself to feel sure must be the case, should be
proved to be so beyond all doubt before many more hours had passed?'
For every hope with which she had buoyed herself was sinking in her
breast, as moment after moment went by and the time grew longer and
longer since the wreck had taken place.
The boat touched the white, pebbly beach now, grating on it with a
gentle scrape, and Stephen, who had gone close to the water's edge to
await its arrival, put out his hand, and, seizing first the stern and
then the painter, drew it a foot or two farther on shore. Then he got
into it, and, grasping the solitary oar which had remained in the boat
simply because the loom, or handle, had got caught beneath the stern
thwart, prepared to shove off in it.
'You will not mind,' he said, as he did so, 'being left alone for half
an hour? This will not take me away from you for so long as when I go
round the island.' While she, in answer, shook her head to indicate
that she was not at all afraid of being left by herself.