MY POOR DARLING.
It was ten o'clock. For half-an-hour had I been sitting in the cabin
alone waiting for Vanderdecken to come below and go to bed. I heard
the parrot angrily clawing about her cage to the chiming of the bell,
as if impatient of the slowness of the strokes and enraged by their
disturbing notes; and when the last chime died out she violently
flapped her wings and cried, with an edge of scream in the ordinary
harshness of her voice, "Wy zyn al Verdomd!"
"Verdomd for you, you vile croaker!" thought I, involuntarily clenching
my fist as I looked towards her. "Such another yell might bring Van
Vogelaar out of his berth."
But she was never again to utter that curse in my hearing.
I went to the cabin door, and found the thickness boiling black
about the decks, not an outline visible, nothing to be seen but the
lantern-shine, dim as a glow-worm in the crystalline denseness.
The clanking of the pump seemed to find twenty echoes in the great
concealed fabric of round-tops and square yards on high. How ghostly
the stillness with which the brake was plied! You listened till your
ear seemed in pain for the sound of a human laugh, the growl of a human
voice.
Whilst I stood looking into the thickness, Vanderdecken came down the
quarter-deck ladder. The wet of the fog sparkled in his beard, and
his fur cap glistened to the lamplight. He stood in the doorway and
stared at me under his great heavy brows as though surprised, and even
startled, to see me; then exclaimed, "_Ach_, I had forgotten you sleep
in this cabin to-night. The lamp can be left alight, if you please."
"If you please, mynheer," said I, with a note of careless indifference
in my voice. In fact I would rather have been in darkness, but it was
my policy to seem as if his wishes were all the same to me, let them
run as they would.
"Tell Prins when he comes, it is my order he should leave the lamp
burning," said he, speaking quietly and in a manner that recalled my
earliest impressions of him when he talked low lest he should disturb
Imogene. He gave me a stiff bow and walked to his cabin.
Five minutes after arrived Prins.
"'Tis the captain's wish," said I, in a low voice, "that the lamp should
be kept alight."
"Good, sir," he replied, imitating my soft speech.
"It is for my convenience; I sleep here as you know, that the pump may
be less disturbing. Captain Vanderdecken is good enough to consult my
comfort, but as the light is bright, pray dim it, Prins. That may be
managed, I hope?"
"Easily," he answered, and climbed upon the table to come at the lamp.
"So," said he, turning down the mesh, "how is that, Herr Fenton?"
"A little fainter yet--so! I thank you, Prins. Have you made an end of
your work? I am in no hurry to lie down."
He slipped off the table with a look round, and said: "My work is
finished, Herr. You can take your rest at once for me." He yawned.
"These African fogs make one gape. Good-night, sir."
"Good-night, Prins."
He halted in the doorway.
"I will shut this door to keep the damp out," he said. I motioned with
my hand as though bidding him shut it, which he did, and I was left
alone.
I wrapped Vanderdecken's large rich cloak about me, and stretched
myself along the bench, using my arm as a pillow. I resolved to lie
thus for at least half-an-hour, conceiving that this would be long
enough to weary any one who should take it into his head to watch
me through the cabin window. As to Vanderdecken, I did not fear his
seeing me whilst he kept his door closed. The bulkhead of his berth
was thick and apparently seamless, and his door fitted into overlaps
of the jambs, for the exclusion of draughts of air after the fashion
in old shipbuilding. I lay very quiet hearkening to the dulled beating
of the pump and watching the clock, the great hand of which was just
visible. When it came round so as to lie upon the quarter before the
hour, I rose with the utmost stealth, arranging the cloak in such a
fashion as to make the dark shape of it resemble a recumbent form, and
holding my breath, stole on tiptoe to Imogene's cabin and pushed the
door. It opened; I entered and pushed the door to again, and it jammed
noiselessly upon the soft substance that had kept it closed before.
Imogene sat on the side of her bed, that exactly resembled the bed in
Vanderdecken's room which I have described. She was fully dressed,
and had on a fur or sealskin cap, with flaps for the ears. A small
silver lamp of a very ancient pattern hung from a hook in the great
beam that traversed the ceiling of her cabin, but she had trimmed or
depressed the mesh into a feeble gleam. The little door that led to the
quarter-gallery stood open. I kissed her cold forehead, and whispered,
"Are you ready?"
"Yes!"
I held her hand whilst I could have counted ten, but found it steadier
than mine.
"Come, dearest!" said I, and I stepped into the gallery.
The fog put an intolerable blackness into the air, and the chill of it
was like frost upon the flesh. But for the phosphorescence of the sea,
which I had before lamented, I should not have been able to see the
boat under the counter. As it was, the tweaking of the line to the rise
and fall of the Death Ship kept a small stir of water about the boat;
the greenish-yellow shining showed through the fog and threw out the
figure of the structure. The railing of the gallery rose to the height
of my breast. I leaned over it, waving my hand in the blackness for the
rope, and not catching it, bade Imogene seize my coat to steady me, and
jumped on to the rail, and in a moment felt the line and grasped it;
then dismounted, holding the rope. In a few seconds I had the boat's
head--that was square and horned, as you will remember--fair under the
gallery, and in that posture I secured her by hitching the slack of the
line to the rail.
Everything continued to help us; first the fog, that made an
astonishing blackness of the night, though I guessed this would grow
into a pallid faintness presently, when the moon was up and had
gathered power; next the phosphoric shinings upon which the boat rose
and fell like a great blot of ink; then the noise of the pump, which,
to the most attentive ear on deck, would absorb all such feeble sounds
as our movements were likely to cause; and again, there was the small
but constant grinding of the sudden jumping of the rudder to the
action of the swell, very nicely calculated to lull the suspicions of
Vanderdecken in the adjacent cabin should he be awake and hear us. But
this I did not fear, for the quarter-gallery was outside the ship, and
we worked in the open air, and made no noise besides.
Not a moment was to be lost; the halliards I had unrove from the
mizzen-peak lay in a heap at my feet. I ran the length through, doubled
it, and made a bowline-on-the-bight of the two thicknesses. This bight
or loop I slipped over Imogene's shoulders, bringing the running or
lowering part in front of her that there should be no pressure to hurt
her tender breasts, and then took two turns round a stancheon on the
quarter-gallery.
"Dearest," I whispered, kissing her, "keep a stout heart and do exactly
as I bid. First, in what part of the cabin shall I find the pitcher and
the provisions?"
"Between the foot of the bedstead and the door. They are covered with
a dress."
"Right. I am now about to lower you into the boat. I will lower very
gently. The moment your feet touch the boat, cough--but not loudly--as
a sign for me to lower handsomely, for the rise and fall of the boat
necessitates smart action. When you are safe--that is when you are
gotten into the middle of the boat--sit down, and throw the rope off
you. I will then send down the pitcher and bags by the line which you
will cast adrift from them. It will then be my turn to join you."
So saying I took her in my arms and lifted her on to the rail, seating
her there an instant, then taking in one hand the end of the rope which
was twisted round the stancheon, with the other I gently slided her
over the rail, easing her down with my arm round her till she hung by
the line. In another moment she was in the boat.
I hauled up the line, went for the pitcher and bags and sent them
down to her, she receiving and detaching them from the line with a
promptitude equal to anything I could have hoped to find in that
way in a sailor. I called to her softly--that she might know why I
lingered--"I am going for the cloak," for the moment I saw it I had
made up my mind to carry it off as a covering for Imogene.
I opened her cabin door breathlessly and peered out; then stole soft
as a mouse to the cloak and threw it over my arm. The interior lay in
a sullen gloom to the dim shining of the lamp. Our stock of provisions
was small, and my eye catching sight of the chest under the table I
recollected having seen Prins put a canvas bag full of biscuit into it
after supper. This I resolved to take. So I went to the chest, raised
the lid, and found the bag, but my hurry and agitation being great
I let fall the lid which dropped with a noisy bang. Heaping curses
upon my clumsiness, I fled like a deer into the cabin and on to the
quarter-gallery, threw the cloak and bag into the boat, and followed
headlong down the rope I had left dangling from the rail.
I was scarce arrived when the faint light that streamed from Imogene's
berth into the quarter-gallery was obscured, and to my horror I saw the
loom of a human shape overhanging the rail.
"Imogene! Imogene! Come back--come back!" rang out Vanderdecken's deep
and thrilling voice. "Herr Fenton, restore to me the treasure thou
wouldst rob me of and I swear not a single hair of thy head shall be
harmed."
In mad haste I sawed through the rope that held the boat with my
pocket-knife. He could not see, but he heard me; and springing on
to the rail, roared, in his thunderous notes, "Arents, Arents, the
Englishman hath seized one of the boats and is kidnapping Miss Dudley.
Do you hear me? Speak--or you swing!"
I heard the clattering of heavy boots running along the tall echoing
poop high over our heads.
"Sir--sir--I am here! Your orders, sir?" bawled Arents.
Again roared out Vanderdecken, in a hurricane note fit to awaken the
echoes of the inland mountains, "The Englishman is kidnapping Miss
Dudley, and hath already seized the larger boat. Send the men from the
pump to man the other boat!"
"No, by Heaven, you don't!" I shouted, mad with the excitement of the
minute. The line that held us was severed; the boat's head swung round;
I leaned half my length over the gunwale, caught the other boat, and
severed the rope that secured her to the ship; then, in a frenzy of
haste, tumbled a couple of oars over and pulled away. But I had not
measured five boat's lengths when the fog in which the ship, even at
that short distance, lay completely swallowed was gashed and rent by a
blaze of red fire. The explosion of a musket followed. I knew, by the
flame leaping out of the quarter-gallery, that it was Vanderdecken who
had fired, and with set teeth strained with all my might at the oars.
A dead stillness reigned. The clanking of the chains had ceased. I
could hear nothing but the grind of the oars in the pins, and the
sound of the water seething to the unnatural vigour with which I rowed.
After a little I paused to gather from the noise of the surf how the
boat headed. I bent my ear and found that the boiling was on my left.
"How does it strike you, Imogene?" I asked, in a broken voice, being
terribly distressed for breath.
She answered, very low, "The sound is on your left."
"That should signify," said I, "that we are heading out to sea. The
breakers are heavy in the west, and 'tis down there the noise of them
seems greatest. We must head right out, or this bay will prove worse
than a rat-trap."
As I spoke I heard the scattering reports of some six or eight muskets
discharged one after another, but the glare of the explosions was
absorbed by the fog.
"Ha!" cried I; "they shoot in hope!"
I fell to rowing again, and held to the weighty job stoutly for a good
quarter-of-an-hour. Weighty it was, for not only was the boat extremely
cumbrous about the bows--if one square end of her more than another
could be so termed--the oars were heavy, the blades being spoon-shaped,
though flat, and the harder to work not only for the breadth of the
boat, but because of the pins being fixed too far abaft the seats.
I had now not much fear of being chased. Even if they found the boat I
had liberated by sending men overboard to swim in search of it--there
was movement enough in the water to glide it very swiftly into
obscurity--I did not apprehend they would venture to pursue me in so
great a fog. I threw in my oars and listened. A faint air stirred in
the blackness, and if I was correct in supposing that we were heading
seawards, then this draught was coming about south-east. The sound of
the surf was like a weak rumbling of thunder. I strained my hearing to
the right--that is, to starboard, for I sat with my back to the bows;
but though indeed I could catch a faint, far-off moan of washing waters
that way, the noise of the boiling was on our left.
"I am sure we are out of the bay," said I; "were we penetrating it we
should be by this time among the breakers. I heartily pray now this
fog will soon thin out. It may whiten into something like light when
the moon rides high. There is a faint wind, and I should be glad to
step the mast and set the sail. But that isn't to be done by feeling.
Besides, there is no rudder, and what there may be in the stern to
steady an oar with I cannot conceive."
I paused, thinking she would speak. Finding she was silent, and
fearing her to be cold and low-hearted, I said: "My dearest, you will
gain confidence with the light. Meanwhile, we have good reason to be
grateful for this blackness. They might have killed us could they have
seen the boat, for they were prompt with their fire-arms."
"Geoffrey, dear," she exclaimed, in the same low voice I had before
noticed in her, "I fear I am wounded."
"Wounded!" I shrieked, springing to my feet.
"The instant Vanderdecken fired--if it was he--" she continued, "I
felt a stinging blow in my shoulder. I am very cold just there; I am
bleeding, I believe."
"Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" I cried, for now she spoke at some little
length I could hear in her voice the pain she was in; and the
feebleness of her voice was like to break my heart, as was the thought
of her suffering and bleeding in silence until I had rowed the boat a
long distance from the ship.
I felt for her, and took her in my arms, but the shiver that ran
through her warned me that my caress increased her pain. I would
have given ten years of my life for a light. 'Twas maddening to have
to sit in such blackness, with nothing but a dim star or two of the
green sea-glow rising with the invisible heave of the water to the
gunwale for the eye to rest upon, and to think of my precious one
bleeding--perhaps wounded to death--utterly concealed from me, so that
I could not staunch her wound, nor comfort her except by speech, nor
help her in any way. 'Twas the doing of Vanderdecken! the murderer!
Oh, why, when there was all the wide black air for the shot to whistle
through, had it struck my life, my love, the darling whom I had
snatched to my heart from the huge desolation of the deep, and from the
horrible companionship of beings accurst of God?
I groped about for the cloak I had flung into the boat, and found it; I
made a bed of it, and pulling off my jacket rolled it up into a pillow.
I felt for her again, and told her that the bleeding might lessen if
she would lie down. She answered, "I will lie down, dearest."
I took her in my arms very tenderly and carefully, and laid her upon
the cloak with the wounded shoulder uppermost, covered her as far as
the skirts of the cloak would suffer, and chafed her hands. I was in
so great a confusion and agony of mind that had I heard the dip of
the oars astern and knew Vanderdecken was after me in the other boat,
I should not have let go her hand. I could not have stirred from my
kneeling posture beside her to help myself. But now that we were out of
the bay, as I might be sure by the sound of the surf, I knew that our
keel would be in the grip of the westerly current, and that whether I
rowed or not every hour must increase our distance from the Death Ship,
and improve our prospect of escape.
I asked her if she was thirsty, understanding how quickly wounded
persons crave in this direction. She answered "No;" but, as I believed,
out of the sweetness of her heart, to save me anguish by any kind
of confession of suffering beyond what she had already owned to.
Believing her to be bleeding all the time, I held her hand, in constant
expectation of feeling it frosted and turning heavy with death. The
sea, in its mighty life of a thousand centuries, has upborne many
dismal and affrighting pictures to the chill eye of the moon, to the
fiery inspection of the sun, to the blindness of the cloud-blackened
sky; but none worse than what our boat made; no torments direr than
what I suffered. I could not see her face to observe whether she
smiled upon me or not; the love in her eyes was hidden from me, and my
heart could take no comfort from imagination when, for all I knew, the
glazing of approaching dissolution might have iced those liquid violet
impassioned depths into an unmeaning stare.
Add to her lying in the blackness, wounded and bleeding; add to the
anguish with which I probed the ebon smother for the merest glimpse of
her, till my eyes burned like red-hot balls of fire under my brows;
add to this, those elements of mystery, of horror, which entered into
and created that black, sightless time; the desolate thunder of surf,
defining to the ear the leagues and leagues of savage coast aswarm
with roaring beasts, with hissing reptiles, with creatures in human
form fiercer and of crueller instincts than either; the magnitude of
the ocean on whose breathing breast our tiny bark lay rocking; the
wondrous darkness of the deep shadow of the fog upon the natural gloom
of the night; the commingling of sullen and mysterious tones in the
sulky obscurity--notes that seemed to come out of the seaward infinity,
that seemed to rise from each swinging respiring fold under us, in
voiceless sound that made you think of a moody conscience in some
labouring breast troubling the ear of imagination with mutterings whose
audibility was that of the inarticulate speech of phantoms.