Three days of life-renewing, hope-burgeoning weather had followed that
silent dawn--days of placid seas and gentle breezes; and nights alight
with stars and a growing moon. The island had been motionless. It might
have been one of the Blessed Isles in a world where life was
everlasting.
Isle of Hope Emily had christened the bit of floating earth, nor could
she have told why optimism reigned in her heart and soul. She was
unaware that she was reflecting only what the manner of Paul Lavelle
gave forth. His every act and word was a reassurance of faith and the
_motif_ of her ever-increasing wonder of him.
Yet it was but a mask of service which Lavelle had determined to wear
for this woman's sake. He had put it on in that daybreak when he had met
her coming toward him and heard her calling:
"We still live, captain."
There had welled in his heart at that moment the gentle Stevenson's
prayer for grace--a prayer which had sustained Lavelle often in peril
and sorrow--and it poured from his lips to find an echo in the woman's,
for she, too, knew it:
"'Grant that we here before Thee may be set free from the fear of
vicissitude and the fear of death, may finish what remains before us of
our course without dishonor to ourselves or hurt to others, and, when
the day comes, may die in peace. Deliver us from fear and favor; from
mean hopes and cheap pleasures. Have mercy on each in his deficiency:
let him not be cast down; support the stumbling on the way, and give at
last rest to the weary.'"
To help this woman's spirit to be unafraid was all that was left for him
to do for her. It was the most he would ever be able to do for her. Of
this Lavelle felt certain. He knew the sea too well to deceive himself
with a false hope that its kind mood would continue long. But while life
lasted it was his purpose to live it fearlessly and as if years still
measured the span and not swift minutes.
Under his hand the discipline of shipboard prevailed. There was not a
moment, by day or night, when a lookout for sign of succoring sail or
light went unkept. With Chang, his right hand, Lavelle divided the night
watches, not trusting Rowgowskii. Even Emily, according to her wish,
helped in the tasks of preparing the food and tending the fire by day.
An out-of-doors woman by tradition and inclination, a powerful rider and
swimmer, the pride which she had always taken in her physical well-being
was standing her in good stead now.
Rowgowskii, in the first realization of the extremity which had come to
pass, had abandoned himself to despair. It was incredible that he had
ever been, as he claimed, an officer in the Russian navy, or otherwise a
commander of men. He was absolutely spiritless; an exemplification of
the truth that cowards die many times before their deaths.
But with the coming of the second day of fair weather his funk lifted
and he went to his appointed tasks with a willingness which was
emphasized by his previous sullenness.
Having observed at the outset that the island's wood supply was limited,
Lavelle had been husbanding it by burning sod. He used the wood solely
for the signal fires of the night.
Now on this morning of the fourth day he again put the Russian to
cutting turf from the hillside, the while he and Chang, armed with the
boat axe, set forth to cut down the palm tree in the meadow. Rowgowskii,
the preceding evening, had suggested its addition to the signal fuel.
"You will not be long, captain?" asked Emily as Lavelle paused to look
back at her in leaving the crest of the hill.
"No longer than is absolutely necessary."
"And you--you will be careful," she warned, and unashamed of the
tremulous note of anxiety which crept into her voice. He nodded. This
man's presence had become very necessary--very precious to her.
"It's your watch on deck, you know," Lavelle called cheerfully. Then,
with a quizzical lowering of his brows and in a tone of pretended
sternness, he added: "Hold your course. Steady as you go--and keep a
sharp lookout."
"Aye, aye, sir," she answered, simulating the speech and manner of a
sailor to an officer.
"You make him velly good sailor man," Chang chuckled in delight.
"We'll be back in a jiffy," said Lavelle. With that he and Chang swung
away down the hill.
Emily went to the edge of the slope and watched them descend, the yellow
man always leaping ahead to test and examine the ground. At the foot
Lavelle looked back. He paused upon discovering the watcher and waved to
her. An impulse to follow him seized her, but remembering that he had
intrusted her with the lookout she overcame it. With a wave of the hand
she answered his signal of cheer, and as through a mist saw him go away
from her across the meadow toward the lone tree.