No pleasure-boats or craft of any sort put out from Silverstrand that
afternoon. The wind eventually blew away the clouds and revealed a
foaming, sunlit sea. But the waves were immense at high tide, and the
fishermen muttered among themselves and stared darkly out over the mighty
breakers.
It was known among them that a boat had put out to sea in the morning and
had not returned before the rising of the gale. There were heavy hearts
in Old Silverstrand that day. But to launch another boat to search for
the missing one was out of the question. The great seas that came hurling
into the little fishing-harbour were sufficient proof of that, even to
the most inexperienced landsman.
Seton, learning the news when lunch was half over, rushed off to New
Silverstrand in the hope that the boat might have been driven in that
direction by the strong current. But nothing had been seen from there of
the missing craft, and though he traversed the entire distance by way of
the cliffs, he saw nothing throughout his walk but flecks of foam here
and there over the tumbling expanse of water.
He returned an hour or so later, reaching Old Silverstrand by five. But
nothing had been heard there. The fishermen shook their heads when he
questioned them. It was plain that they had given up hope.
Seton raged up and down the quay in impotent agony of mind. The
off-shore wind continued for some hours. There was not the smallest doubt
that the boat had been driven out to sea, unless--a still more awful
possibility--she had been swamped and sunk long ago. As darkness fell,
the gale at length abated, and Quiller the younger approached Seton.
"Tell you what, sir," he said. "There's a cruiser been up and down a
matter of ten miles out. Me and my mates will put out at daybreak and see
if we can get within hail of her. There's the light-ship, too, off
Morden's Shoal. 'Tain't likely as a boat could have slipped between 'em
without being seen. For if she was just drifting, you know, sir, she
wouldn't go very fast."
"All right," said Seton. "And thanks! I'll go with you in the morning."
Quiller lingered, though there was dismissal in the tone.
"Go in and get a rest, sir!" he said persuasively. "There ain't no good
in your wearing yourself out here. You can't do nothing, sir, except pray
for a calm sea. Given that, we'll start with the light."
"Very well," said Seton, and turned away. He knew that the man spoke
sense and he put pressure on himself to behave rationally. Nevertheless,
he spent the greater part of the night in a fever of restlessness which
no strength of will could subdue; and he was down on the quay long before
the first faint gleam of light shot glimmering over the quiet water.
* * * * *
It was during those first wonderful moments of a new day that Mab woke up
with a start shivering, and stretched out her arms with a cry of wonder.
Hours before, Merefleet had persuaded her to try to rest, and she had
fallen asleep with her head against his knee, soothed by the calm that at
length succeeded the storm. He had watched over her with grim endurance
throughout the night, and not once had he seen a light or any other
object to raise his hopes.
They were out of sight of land; alone on the dumb waste. He had not the
smallest notion as to how far out to sea the boat had drifted. Only he
fancied that they had been driven out of the immediate track of steamers,
and in the great emptiness around him he saw no means of escape from the
fate that seemed to dog them.
The boat had lived miraculously, it seemed to him, through the awful
storm of the day. Tossed ruthlessly and aimlessly to and fro, drenched to
the skin, hungry and forlorn, he and the woman who was to him the very
desire of life, had gone through the peril of deep waters. Merefleet was
beginning to wonder why they had thus escaped. It seemed to him but a
needless prolonging of an agony already long drawn out.
Nevertheless there was nothing of despair in his face as he stooped over
the girl who was crouching at his feet.
"Glad you have been able to sleep," he said gently. "Don't get up! There
is no necessity if you are fairly comfortable."
She smiled up at him with the ready confidence of a child and raised
herself a little.
"Still watching, Big Bear?" she said.
"Yes," said Merefleet.
His tone told her that he had seen nothing. She lay still for a few
moments, then slowly turned her face towards the east. A deep pink glow
was rising in the sky. There was a rosy dusk on the sea about them.
"My!" said Mab in a soft whisper. "Isn't that lovely?"
Merefleet said nothing. He was watching her beautiful face with a great
hunger in his heart.
Mab was also silent for a while. Presently she turned her face up to his.
"The Gate of Heaven," she said in a whisper. "Isn't it fine?"
He did not speak.
She lifted a hand that felt like an icicle and slipped it into his.
"I guess we shall do this journey together, Big Bear," she said. "I'm
real sorry I made you come if you didn't want to."
"You needn't be sorry," said Merefleet, with a huskiness he could not
have accounted for.
"No?" she said, with a curious little thrill in her voice. "It's real
handsome of you, Big Bear. Because--you know--I ought to have died more
than a year ago. But you are different. You have your life to live."
Merefleet's hand closed tightly upon hers.
"Don't talk like that, child!" he said. "Heaven knows your life is worth
more than mine."
Mab leant her elbow on his knee and gazed thoughtfully over the far
expanse of water. Merefleet knew that she was faint and exhausted,
though she uttered no complaint.
"Shall I tell you a secret, Big Bear?" she said, in the hushed tone of
one on the threshold of a sacred place. "I ended my life long ago. I was
very miserable and Death came and offered me refuge. And it was such a
safe hiding-place. I knew no one would look for me there. Only lately I
have come to see that what I did was wicked. I think you helped to make
me see, Big Bear. You're so honest. And then a dreadful thing happened.
Have you ever spoilt anyone's life besides your own, I wonder? I have.
That is why I have got to die. There is no place left for me. I gave it
up. And there is someone else there now."
She stopped. Merefleet was bending over her with that in his face that
might have been the reflected glory of the growing day. Mab saw it, and
stretched up her other hand with a startled sob.
"Big Bear, forgive me!" she whispered. "I--didn't--know."
A moment later she was lying on his breast, and the first golden shimmer
of the morning had risen above the sea.
"I shan't mind dying now," Mab whispered, a little later. "I was real
frightened yesterday. But now--do you know?--I'm glad--glad. It's just
like sailing into Paradise, isn't it? Are any of your people there, Big
Bear?"
"Perhaps," said Merefleet.
"Won't you be pleased to see them?" she said, with a touch of wonder at
the indifference in his tone.
"I want nothing but you, my darling," he said, and his lips were on her
hair.
He felt her fingers close upon his own.
"I guess it won't matter in Heaven," she said, as though trying to
convince herself of something. "My dear, shall I tell you something?
I love you with all my heart. I never knew it till to-day. And if we
weren't so near Heaven I reckon I couldn't ever have told you."
Some time later she began to talk in a dreamy way of the Great Haven
whither they were drifting. The sun was high by then and beat in a
wonderful, dazzling glory on the pathless waters.
"There's no sun There," said Mab. "But I guess it will be very bright.
And there will be crowds and crowds along the Shore to see us come into
Port. And I'll see my little baby among them. I told you about him, Big
Bear. Finest little chap in New York City. He'll be holding out his arms
to me, just like he used. Ah! I can almost see him now. Look at his
curls. Aren't they fine? And his little angel face. There isn't anyone
like him, I guess. Everybody said he was the cutest baby in U.S. Coming,
darling! Coming!"
Mab's hands slackened from Merefleet's clasp, and suddenly she stretched
out her arms to the sky. The holiest of all earthly raptures was on her
face.
Then with a sharp sigh she came to herself and turned back to Merefleet.
A piteous little smile hovered about her quivering lips.
"I guess I've been dreaming, Big Bear," she said. "Such a dream! Oh, such
a gorgeous, heavenly dream!"
And she hid her face on his breast and burst into tears.