And yet Dick Baynes, in concluding his side of the bargain, has but
gambled with fate quite blindly. To gain the love of this woman of
his desires he will agree to anything--has agreed, in fact. But how
is he to fulfil his part of the contract?
That is a question he is scarcely able to answer. And as he gets out
into the cold open air and his passionate humour cools down a little,
he begins to realise with much mortification how big a job it is that
he has let himself in for, a much bigger job, indeed, than he feels
himself able to tackle.
There is an officer to be traced, concerning whom he knows little
more than his name and appearance--not even what ship he belongs to
or where he is to be found.
And this officer has to be persuaded not to give to the admiral
certain information which he is probably fully determined to give.
Truly, it is a big problem for an able seaman who is tied by his duty
to the island!
To make the problem harder still, it must be solved at once. If
there is any delay, nothing will be of any use.
Baynes is reminded of the fairy stories he used to read when a child,
in which a poor lad was given such tasks as that of emptying a lake
during the night with a teaspoon full of holes. This present task,
when looked at in the cold light of reason, appears just as
impossible.
Moreover, in these childish stories there was always a good fairy in
disguise who came to the rescue of the poor lad and helped him to
perform the impossible task to perfection; but there is precious
little chance of a good fairy turning up at the opportune moment to
assist Dick Baynes.
So this unhappy wretch, bound by a promise which he is quite unable
to fulfil, and tantalised by hopes of a reward which he can never
earn, walks away from the hut into the darkness of the night and
wanders aimlessly about the island, a prey to his most distracting
thoughts.
He knows not whither he goes, but simply lets his torturing fancies
lead him whither they will.
Netta of the grey eyes and ashen-gold hair, Netta of the soft
alluring voice and winsome ways, the girl who fills every thought of
his days and every dream of his nights--Netta he must have for his
very own; and Netta he knows he can never have, since the rash pledge
he has made to her is one which he has not the slightest chance of
redeeming; and to that pledge she will hold him, or deny herself.
Brooding darkly over this maze of circumstances from which there is
no possible escape, Baynes comes to the edge of the cliff near to
where the pathway runs down to the landing-place.
It is still night, and the sea is quite calm. The rising moon is
beginning to light up with silver the unruffled surface of the water.
A sound falls on Dick's ears as he stands there, in his perplexity
and looks idly out over the waters, a regular rhythmic sound of oars
jarring against rowlocks and of the slight splash made by the blades
dipping into the water at each stroke.
The sound comes nearer, though as yet the boat is not in sight. It
is not very loud, either; evidently it comes from quite a small boat,
a skiff probably, or perhaps a whaler; certainly not a cutter--there
is not noise enough for that.
Then a dim light twinkles, low down on the surface of the sea. It
glows brighter each moment, and is presently seen to be a boat's
lantern in the bows of a skiff manned by a single rower.
Baynes still remains watching, out of idle curiosity; in fact, he is
so much wrapped up in his own concerns that he can scarcely be said
to watch at all. His eyes see, but his mind takes in little or
nothing.
The solitary oarsman makes his boat fast by the side of the little
pier that runs out at the foot of the cliffs, comes ashore, and,
taking the boat's lantern in his hand, walks rapidly up the hill.
From his lower position he has no difficulty in seeing the motionless
figure of Dick Baynes standing silhouetted against the skyline. He
gives him a hail on reaching the top of the path, and makes straight
towards him.
He raises his lantern as he approaches so as to see the man he is
about to speak to, and at once puts the question to him:
"Have you seen the admiral anywhere, my man? Do you know if he has
left the island yet?"
The lantern which is held up to give the speaker a view of Dick
Baynes' face also lights up his own. And in the light of that
lantern Baynes sees a sight which sets his brain in a whirl.
He is face to face with Lieutenant-Commander Stapleton.
No miracle has happened to bring about this strange meeting, so much
desired by one of the two men at least yet so utterly unhoped for and
improbable. It simply happens as the natural result of a most
ordinary chain of circumstances.
This is the way of it. Stapleton, on leaving the island, has taken
his steamboat straight to the spot where stands, on another islet,
the group of official buildings amongst which is the house used as
the headquarters of the admiral in charge of the base.
He makes inquiries for the admiral, feeling that the news he has to
impart is of such importance that it can be told to no one else. It
is not usual, no doubt, for a mere lieutenant-commander to deal
directly with an officer of flag rank in matters affecting purely
naval and not merely personal affairs; but this is a matter of such
consequence that Stapleton feels no hesitation in breaking through
the ordinary routine; moreover, there is no time to be lost--the
court of enquiry is due to be held to-morrow morning.
Greatly to his annoyance, he is told that the admiral has not yet
returned to his house. The secretary, however, is back, and would
Mr. Stapleton like to see him instead?
Mr. Stapleton would. So Dimsdale appears, but is not able to throw
very much light upon the admiral's movements; he was ashore tins
afternoon, but his barge was sent for him an hour ago. As the barge
has not yet returned, it is probable the admiral is still on the
island where he has been taking a walk; on the other hand, he may
have left the island and gone to some other ship; he does this
sometimes, in fact there is no knowing what he may do; he is in the
habit of setting aside this part of the day for recreation, and does
not settle down to official work again till after dinner, or, as a
third alternative, the barge may have gone round to the other side of
the island to wait for the admiral.
Does Stapleton want to see the admiral urgently?
Stapleton does. Very urgently indeed.
Then, says Dimsdale, it is difficult to know what course to
recommend. The admiral is dining afloat to-night, and has a meeting
to attend to afterwards which will keep him till close on midnight.
Stapleton comes away fuming with impatience. He has already kept his
steamboat longer than he ought to have done, and must get back at
once to the ship where he is being accommodated for the time being.
Arriving there, he is perhaps fortunate in finding the
officer-of-the-watch a man very much junior to himself, and so
escapes the cursing which he deserves for being so inconsiderate as
to keep the one steamboat such a long time; and although he makes
suitable apologies for his unwarranted behaviour, he feels that the
young sub-lieutenant at the head of the gangway regards him with
malevolent disfavour. And as if to drive home the extent of his
shortcomings, the steamboat's crew are ordered to shove off at once
and do the next trip, which they ought to have done an hour ago.
Stapleton smiles ruefully, remembering well the similar worries of
his own watch-keeping days. He has not the heart to ask for anything
more than a skiff, though he feels that he can do no less than make
his way back to the island and seek the admiral there.
And meanwhile, blissfully unconscious of being so much in request,
the admiral has sent a message back to his barge with orders to go
round and wait for him at the southern side of the island, as
Dimsdale has suggested he may have done; and, after saying good night
to Norah and Netta in the hut, has walked across the island in the
gathering twilight and thence gone afloat and taken the long
sea-route home. This explains why Stapleton on coming down to the
landing-place found no other boat except his own waiting there, and
so concluded that the admiral must have returned to his house.
The request for the skiff is readily granted, though the
sub-lieutenant on watch thinks to himself that this guest with the
two-and-a-half stripes on his arm is a regular whale for boat trips.
However, Stapleton propitiates him by stating that he will not
require any hands to man the skiff, but will go alone and use the
sculls. It is better so, on the whole, he reflects. Secrecy is very
desirable on such a mission as his, and even the anxiety which is
bound to be shown in his face may give too much away. Better be
alone.
So, pulling the skiff by himself across the placid waters to the
distant island, he makes for the pier at the landing-place and there
makes fast his boat.
Stepping ashore, he is still at a loss as to what course to pursue in
his search; perhaps it will be best to go first to the hut and there
to make enquiries; after that, if no news is obtainable there, the
only thing left to do will be to walk across the island to the other
landing place and see if the admiral's barge is still there or not.
Ha! There is a man standing at the top of the cliff. This will be
some one to enquire of, at any rate; and no chance must be overlooked.
So Stapleton walks up to the man and raises his lantern.
And he recognises, as he puts his question, the man whose fatal
interruption this very afternoon, has parted him and Norah for ever
and set afoot all this fearful trouble.