TELLS OF THE NOCTURNAL LANDING FROM THE YACHT
I returned to the den to cook myself a meal, of which I stood in great
need, as well as to care for my horse, whom I had somewhat neglected in
the morning. From time to time I went down to the edge of the wood; but
there was no change in the pavilion, and not a human creature was seen
all day upon the links. The schooner in the offing was the one touch of
life within my range of vision. She, apparently with no set object,
stood off and on or lay to, hour after hour; but as the evening
deepened, she drew steadily nearer. I became more convinced that she
carried Northmour and his friends, and that they would probably come
ashore after dark; not only because that was of a piece with the
secrecy of the preparations, but because the tide would not have flowed
sufficiently before eleven to cover Graden Floe and the other sea quags
that fortified the shore against invaders.
All day the wind had been going down, and the sea along with it; but
there was a return towards sunset of the heavy weather of the day
before. The night set in pitch dark. The wind came off the sea in
squalls, like the firing of a battery of cannon; now and then there was
a flaw of rain, and the surf rolled heavier with the rising tide. I was
down at my observatory among the elders, when a light was run up to the
masthead of the schooner, and showed she was closer in than when I had
last seen her by the dying daylight. I concluded that this must be a
signal to Northmour’s associates on shore; and, stepping forth into the
links, looked around me for something in response.
A small footpath ran along the margin of the wood, and formed the most
direct communication between the pavilion and the mansion-house; and,
as I cast my eyes to that side, I saw a spark of light, not a quarter
of a mile away, and rapidly approaching. From its uneven course it
appeared to be the light of a lantern carried by a person who followed
the windings of the path, and was often staggered and taken aback by
the more violent squalls. I concealed myself once more among the
elders, and waited eagerly for the new-comer’s advance. It proved to be
a woman; and, as she passed within half a rod of my ambush, I was able
to recognise the features. The deaf and silent old dame, who had nursed
Northmour in his childhood, was his associate in this underhand affair.
I followed her at a little distance, taking advantage of the
innumerable heights and hollows, concealed by the darkness, and
favoured not only by the nurse’s deafness, but by the uproar of the
wind and surf. She entered the pavilion, and, going at once to the
upper storey, opened and set a light in one of the windows that looked
towards the sea. Immediately afterwards the light at the schooner’s
masthead was run down and extinguished. Its purpose had been attained,
and those on board were sure that they were expected. The old woman
resumed her preparations; although the other shutters remained closed,
I could see a glimmer going to and fro about the house; and a gush of
sparks from one chimney after another soon told me that the fires were
being kindled.
Northmour and his guests, I was now persuaded, would come ashore as
soon as there was water on the floe. It was a wild night for boat
service; and I felt some alarm mingle with my curiosity as I reflected
on the danger of the landing. My old acquaintance, it was true, was the
most eccentric of men; but the present eccentricity was both
disquieting and lugubrious to consider. A variety of feelings thus led
me towards the beach, where I lay flat on my face in a hollow within
six feet of the track that led to the pavilion. Thence, I should have
the satisfaction of recognising the arrivals, and, if they should prove
to be acquaintances, greeting them as soon as they had landed.
Some time before eleven, while the tide was still dangerously low, a
boat’s lantern appeared close in shore; and, my attention being thus
awakened, I could perceive another still far to seaward, violently
tossed, and sometimes hidden by the billows. The weather, which was
getting dirtier as the night went on, and the perilous situation of the
yacht upon a lee shore, had probably driven them to attempt a landing
at the earliest possible moment.
A little afterwards, four yachtsmen carrying a very heavy chest, and
guided by a fifth with a lantern, passed close in front of me as I lay,
and were admitted to the pavilion by the nurse. They returned to the
beach, and passed me a second time with another chest, larger but
apparently not so heavy as the first. A third time they made the
transit; and on this occasion one of the yachtsmen carried a leather
portmanteau, and the others a lady’s trunk and carriage bag. My
curiosity was sharply excited. If a woman were among the guests of
Northmour, it would show a change in his habits and an apostasy from
his pet theories of life, well calculated to fill me with surprise.
When he and I dwelt there together, the pavilion had been a temple of
misogyny. And now, one of the detested sex was to be installed under
its roof. I remembered one or two particulars, a few notes of
daintiness and almost of coquetry which had struck me the day before as
I surveyed the preparations in the house; their purpose was now clear,
and I thought myself dull not to have perceived it from the first.
While I was thus reflecting, a second lantern drew near me from the
beach. It was carried by a yachtsman whom I had not yet seen, and who
was conducting two other persons to the pavilion. These two persons
were unquestionably the guests for whom the house was made ready; and,
straining eye and ear, I set myself to watch them as they passed. One
was an unusually tall man, in a travelling hat slouched over his eyes,
and a highland cape closely buttoned and turned up so as to conceal his
face. You could make out no more of him than that he was, as I have
said, unusually tall, and walked feebly with a heavy stoop. By his
side, and either clinging to him or giving him support—I could not make
out which—was a young, tall, and slender figure of a woman. She was
extremely pale; but in the light of the lantern her face was so marred
by strong and changing shadows, that she might equally well have been
as ugly as sin or as beautiful as I afterwards found her to be.
When they were just abreast of me, the girl made some remark which was
drowned by the noise of the wind.
“Hush!” said her companion; and there was something in the tone with
which the word was uttered that thrilled and rather shook my spirits.
It seemed to breathe from a bosom labouring under the deadliest terror;
I have never heard another syllable so expressive; and I still hear it
again when I am feverish at night, and my mind runs upon old times. The
man turned towards the girl as he spoke; I had a glimpse of much red
beard and a nose which seemed to have been broken in youth; and his
light eyes seemed shining in his face with some strong and unpleasant
emotion.
But these two passed on and were admitted in their turn to the
pavilion.
One by one, or in groups, the seamen returned to the beach. The wind
brought me the sound of a rough voice crying, “Shove off!” Then, after
a pause, another lantern drew near. It was Northmour alone.
My wife and I, a man and a woman, have often agreed to wonder how a
person could be, at the same time, so handsome and so repulsive as
Northmour. He had the appearance of a finished gentleman; his face bore
every mark of intelligence and courage; but you had only to look at
him, even in his most amiable moment, to see that he had the temper of
a slaver captain. I never knew a character that was both explosive and
revengeful to the same degree; he combined the vivacity of the south
with the sustained and deadly hatreds of the north; and both traits
were plainly written on his face, which was a sort of danger signal. In
person he was tall, strong, and active; his hair and complexion very
dark; his features handsomely designed, but spoiled by a menacing
expression.
At that moment he was somewhat paler than by nature; he wore a heavy
frown; and his lips worked, and he looked sharply round him as he
walked, like a man besieged with apprehensions. And yet I thought he
had a look of triumph underlying all, as though he had already done
much, and was near the end of an achievement.
Partly from a scruple of delicacy—which I dare say came too late—partly
from the pleasure of startling an acquaintance, I desired to make my
presence known to him without delay.
I got suddenly to my feet, and stepped forward. “Northmour!” said I.
I have never had so shocking a surprise in all my days. He leaped on me
without a word; something shone in his hand; and he struck for my heart
with a dagger. At the same moment I knocked him head over heels.
Whether it was my quickness, or his own uncertainty, I know not; but
the blade only grazed my shoulder, while the hilt and his fist struck
me violently on the mouth.
I fled, but not far. I had often and often observed the capabilities of
the sand-hills for protracted ambush or stealthy advances and retreats;
and, not ten yards from the scene of the scuffle, plumped down again
upon the grass. The lantern had fallen and gone out. But what was my
astonishment to see Northmour slip at a bound into the pavilion, and
hear him bar the door behind him with a clang of iron!
He had not pursued me. He had run away. Northmour, whom I knew for the
most implacable and daring of men, had run away! I could scarce believe
my reason; and yet in this strange business, where all was incredible,
there was nothing to make a work about in an incredibility more or
less. For why was the pavilion secretly prepared? Why had Northmour
landed with his guests at dead of night, in half a gale of wind, and
with the floe scarce covered? Why had he sought to kill me? Had he not
recognised my voice? I wondered. And, above all, how had he come to
have a dagger ready in his hand? A dagger, or even a sharp knife,
seemed out of keeping with the age in which we lived; and a gentleman
landing from his yacht on the shore of his own estate, even although it
was at night and with some mysterious circumstances, does not usually,
as a matter of fact, walk thus prepared for deadly onslaught. The more
I reflected, the further I felt at sea. I recapitulated the elements of
mystery, counting them on my fingers: the pavilion secretly prepared
for guests; the guests landed at the risk of their lives and to the
imminent peril of the yacht; the guests, or at least one of them, in
undisguised and seemingly causeless terror; Northmour with a naked
weapon; Northmour stabbing his most intimate acquaintance at a word;
last, and not least strange, Northmour fleeing from the man whom he had
sought to murder, and barricading himself, like a hunted creature,
behind the door of the pavilion. Here were at least six separate causes
for extreme surprise; each part and parcel with the others, and forming
all together one consistent story. I felt almost ashamed to believe my
own senses.
As I thus stood, transfixed with wonder, I began to grow painfully
conscious of the injuries I had received in the scuffle; skulked round
among the sand-hills; and, by a devious path, regained the shelter of
the wood. On the way, the old nurse passed again within several yards
of me, still carrying her lantern, on the return journey to the
mansion-house of Graden. This made a seventh suspicious feature in the
case—Northmour and his guests, it appeared, were to cook and do the
cleaning for themselves, while the old woman continued to inhabit the
big empty barrack among the policies. There must surely be great cause
for secrecy, when so many inconveniences were confronted to preserve
it.
So thinking, I made my way to the den. For greater security, I trod out
the embers of the fire, and lit my lantern to examine the wound upon my
shoulder. It was a trifling hurt, although it bled somewhat freely, and
I dressed it as well as I could (for its position made it difficult to
reach) with some rag and cold water from the spring. While I was thus
busied, I mentally declared war against Northmour and his mystery. I am
not an angry man by nature, and I believe there was more curiosity than
resentment in my heart. But war I certainly declared; and, by way of
preparation, I got out my revolver, and, having drawn the charges,
cleaned and reloaded it with scrupulous care. Next I became preoccupied
about my horse. It might break loose, or fall to neighing, and so
betray my camp in the Sea-Wood. I determined to rid myself of its
neighbourhood; and long before dawn I was leading it over the links in
the direction of the fisher village.