THE QUEST OF THE WOMAN.
It was midday and the _Esmeralda_ lay at anchor in the shelter of
some outstanding rocks which girdled an island distant three miles
from that haven which had witnessed the flight of Marian. Two men of
the four who had accompanied her master from Kronstadt were to be seen
upon her decks; but so well chosen was her place of hiding, and so
wonderfully did the boulders of rock shield her, that her crew were
indifferent alike to the presence of a Russian cruiser which lay at
anchor in the distant offing, and to the eyes of the neighbouring
fishermen whose boats dotted the unruffled surface of the sea.
Of the two upon the deck, one was old John Hook, who leaned heavily
upon the bulwarks and exposed his brawny arms and matted hair to the
welcome warmth of the spring sun; the other was Reuben, the engineer,
who squatted wearily upon a coil of rope.
“Eight bells,” said Reuben, filling a pipe with a seaman’s
deliberation, “eight bells, John. By gosh! I’d like to know where we
shall be at eight bells to-morrow.”
“To hell with the bells!” replied John Hook, spitting vindictively
into the sea. “I’m damned if all you chaps don’t think you’re
sky-pilots! It’ll want something more than a Death’s-head Rooshian to
put a white choker round me, as sure as my name’s John Hook!”
Reuben continued to cut his tobacco methodically.
“Women are rum-uns, I’m blessed if they’re not,” said he after a
spell. “To think as she should have turned it up, in the middle of the
night too! Why, if she’d have held on another twelve hours, we’d have
put her into Stockholm before morning. What was in her head, that’s
what I want to know?”
“Common-sense, that’s what was in her head, mate. She’s a rare plucked
’un if ever I sailed with one! Why, think of a little bit of goods
like that, not more’n you could crush in your ’and easy, a little bit
of goods like that agen all Rooshia and agen all the world! Where’s
she now?--ask yerself. Starvin’ meybe, meybe in one o’ them
ground-floor hells they call a prison in these parts. And why’s she
dun it? Why, so as they shan’t find her along wi’ him. It’s a cruel
thing, mate, a bit of a gal all alone on a shore like this. I’m derned
if I wouldn’t sign for a twelvemonth, if that would bring her back
agen!”
Reuben lit his pipe and got up to watch the distant warship.
“Well,” said he, “wishin’ ain’t goin’ to bring her back, John, and as
for that I’d take my dinner more easy if yon lot would weigh.
Supposin’ they’ve no news of us, what are they doing there? Is it to
see a fisher fleet? A shilling sail wouldn’t swallow that.”
“Who’s asking of you to swallow it?” asked the other testily. “Of
course they’ve got the news; but having the news and sighting us
through ten feet of rock’s a different story, ain’t it? Who’s to tell
’em we’re lyin’ here? Are we goin’ to run up a fleg? or is one of them
swabs a-fishin’ out there goin’ to beat in a mile to spy us out?
Damned if you don’t talk like a babe and sucklin’!”
Reuben smoked angrily and crossed to the other side of the ship.
“I wish the guv’nor was aboard,” said he; “there ain’t no good to be
done over yonder, I’ll swear. It’s eight hours since she went now. You
want a good eye to spy out eight hours, John.”
“That’s so, mate, always rememberin’ as tides don’t go on like women’s
tongues, for ever and ever. If she ain’t gone ashore afore this, she’s
somewhere in the flow of this channel, and there we’ll find her. It’ll
take more than the skipper of Petersburg to stop me when it’s an
English lady that’s between us. I’m derned if I wouldn’t pull his nose
for a shilling!”
He added to the volume of the sea again; but Reuben continued to gaze
wistfully at the island upon which his master had landed in quest of
the little fugitive. Paul had known no resting hour since she was
gone. He understood that he had played for the great stake and had
lost. He saw himself branded as a traitor by the men who had known him
and loved him; cast out from the career of his ambition to these
desolate islands; utterly alone at a moment when, with all his heart
and soul, he yearned for the love which destiny had robbed him of.
“My little wife!” he had cried when they brought him the news. “I
cannot lose you. God help me, I cannot live alone again!”
Haggard and worn and weary with grief, the man, who had dared all for
a woman’s love, learned that love was to come no more into his life.
The cup had been snatched from his lips at a moment when he had first
tasted the sweetness of the draught. He began to remember all that
Marian had meant to him. He recalled her tenderness, her prettiness,
the delight of that hour when he had whispered his love in the shadow
of the bastions of Kronstadt. He swore to God that he would never see
the sun again if she were not given back to him; he raged against his
destiny; a voice whispered that the woman had left him to carry the
plans of the great fortress to England, and there to sell them as she
had first intended. To this voice he would not listen; and when the
paralysis of despair had passed, a new activity, the activity of the
quest, possessed him as a fever. “He would find her,” he said, “though
he lived and died on that desolate shore!”
One boat remained to the _Esmeralda_, the dinghy which she carried
midships. He ordered them to lower it that no haven or creek or
channel might remain unsearched. Reckless, defiant, caring nothing for
prudence or pursuit, his voice was raised pitifully in many a rocky
harbour and upon many a shore. The moan of the wind alone answered
him. The desolate sea was unpitying.
At midday the yacht made an island, prominent amongst the others by
reason of a curious girdle of outstanding rocks which defended it. It
was here that the men first observed the Russian cruiser lying far out
at sea. They warped their ship to one of the boulders of the rock,
while their master, headstrong and not to be restrained, went ashore
to see if the heights of the new land would help him to discover the
missing boat and the little wanderer, whose purpose in flight was now
becoming more clear to him. But the journey was fruitless. He looked
out from the heights upon a sea dotted with crags and isles; often
shining in still lagoons of sunlit water; showing here and there the
hulls of fishing boats, but giving no other answer to his question. A
great fear--the fear that Marian had, indeed, been taken by the
cruiser--began to give place to the supposition that she had found a
refuge upon the shore. Nevertheless, he continued to watch and to
wait, and would not return to the yacht until the quick eyes of his
companion perceived the danger of the place and of the scene.
“They have put out a boat, sir,” said the man; “what’s more, that’s a
signal gun.”
A puff of white smoke floated up from the deck of the distant cruiser,
and anon the muted roar of a gun was to be heard. Paul delayed no
longer upon the island, but hastened to regain his ship and there to
consult with those who, in their rough way, offered him so precious a
sympathy.
“Well!” cried old John, merrily, when the dinghy came to view. “Ye
have news, sir?”
Paul shook his head.
“The cruiser is putting off a boat; that is my news, John.”
“To hell with the boat! What’s a boat got to do with us?”
Paul laughed sadly while he swung up on to the deck of the
_Esmeralda_.
“You are good fellows,” he said, “and you have been true friends to
me. It is no good to deceive you any more, and it would be wrong to
bring trouble upon you. I am the one to answer for this business, and
I am ready to answer. What happens now is nothing to me. But you, my
friends, you must all go ashore and leave me to make my answer alone.”
John Hook thrust his hands deep into his trousers’ pockets.
“Look here, sir,” he said determinedly; “if it’s questions, I’m on
that job. And let me arst you this--am I a Britisher or am I a
furringer?”
He looked appealingly to the others, who said knowingly--
“Ay, ay; that’s the question, John.”
Paul laughed again.
“I do not care what you are,” said he; “it is sufficient that you have
been my friends.”
“And friends we’ll remain. Leave you here alone! Is my name John Hook?
Is my port Swansea, or ain’t it? Am I goin’ ashore because a lot of
lubbers cruise round and fire off a popgun? I’m derned if I don’t
blush like a gal to hear you say so, sir!”
Paul held out his hand and shook the great rough paw of the English
seaman.
“I wish you were my countryman,” he said. “If you will not go ashore,
you shall stay with me to the end, and it shall be as God wills. I
have few friends now. I have no longer a country.”
His voice failed him, and he turned away, pretending to watch the
coming boat which was now being rowed rapidly toward the shore. It was
as though the messenger of destiny winged across the sea. The hand of
Fate appeared to be thrust out towards him. There was sunlight for his
eyes to-day, but to-morrow there would be darkness--the darkness of
the pitiless reckoning. He saw himself carried back to Kronstadt in
ignominy. He would stand alone, he said. The little head, which should
have nestled upon his shoulder, was to comfort him no more. And he had
no longer a reproach upon his lips. The friendship of the stout hearts
that sailed with him was a thing precious to him beyond words.
The _Esmeralda_ had been warped to a rock sufficiently high to conceal
her mast from any passing ship. The hands clambered upon this rock
when the dinghy was hauled up; and therefrom they watched the
long-boat which the Russian warship had lowered. Phlegmatic as they
were in word and deed, the steady approach of the strange craft set
their hearts beating with suppressed excitement. They could not turn
their eyes away; they watched her foot by foot as she drew toward
them. Some even whispered schemes for their defence; others spoke of
the skipper’s pistol and of their own good knives. John Hook alone
cried out upon such an idea, and his word prevailed.
“There’s twenty men yonder if there’s one,” said he doggedly;
“supposing as this is their port, do you think they’re bringing
umbrellas with them? My eyes and limbs, that’s a woman’s notion! And
who’s goin’ to sit here for a Rooshian swab to play marbles with him?
Not me, by thunder! But I’ll tell you what, mates, if we cast off, and
back out while they’re coming round, there’ll be three hundred yards
between us before they wake up to it. And there won’t be nobody on
deck besides me for them to play at pigeons with. It’s for the guv’nor
to say; but I know what I should do if old Death’s-head yonder was
coming down my street.”
“Ay, ay; John’s right,” cried the other.
“I leave it to you,” exclaimed Paul, indifferently; “I care no longer.
The time for that has passed.”
They cast the ship free at the words and stood with boat-hooks to
steady her. So great was the silence of doubt and expectancy that the
sound of the men breathing was like a whisper of voices. Yard by yard
the strange craft crept into the bay. They could see the cutlasses her
men carried, could read the name upon her prow. The agony of doubt was
scarce to be endured when the lieutenant in charge of the boat cried
an easy, and his crew ceased to row. Then indeed Paul said that the
hour was at hand, that the dream was done with.
For twenty seconds, perhaps, the long-boat lay still upon the lagoon.
The men, watching and waiting upon the decks of the _Esmeralda_, shut
their eyes and stood like figures of bronze. But that was the supreme
moment; and when they had counted twenty, their hearts began to
quicken with a tremulous hope. For the oars were dipped again; and
going about suddenly, the Russian boat made off towards the further
side of the island. The sigh of relief from the watchers was almost a
nervous titter. Paul found that his forehead was wet and cold with icy
perspiration.
“It is not for us after all. I do not understand,” he said.
“But I do,” cried John Hook excitedly. “Look yonder, sir. D’ye see
that white barge with three masts? It’s a leper ship, I reckon. The
monks aboard ’em load with lepers as we load with coal. They go from
island to island until they’ve took a cargo, and then they head north
for the ’orspital. That’s what brings old Death’s-head this way. He
must have a patient for ’em.”
It was as he said. The cruiser’s boat was rowed straight to a
lumbering barge-like ship which had appeared suddenly in the centre of
the lagoon. Twenty minutes later the small boat was but a speck in the
offing, and the men of the _Esmeralda_ were at dinner.