THE HOUR OF PERIL.
I am positive that was the first time in my life I ever exerted myself
so forcibly upon the panel of a door to attract the attention of the
occupant, a guest on board my boat; but surely the conditions warranted
such an expenditure of muscular power, for with the howling of the
wind, the creaking of bulkheads, and all woodwork about the boat,
together with the mighty roar of the billows that caused the yacht to
stagger like a drunken thing, there was almost as much commotion in the
air as during a battle, and ordinary sounds could not be heard at all.
My summons were at once heeded, for immediately the door opened.
Hildegarde, fully dressed, stood there.
She was deathly pale, but, to my infinite satisfaction, exhibited none
of the hysterical emotions which Diana had shown, and which were in
their way apt to demoralize the strongest man.
No matter what peril faced us, she would be brave--I had never before
seen her face to face with deadly danger, and this unsuspected but very
welcome phase of her nature gratified me immensely. I stepped inside,
because talking, unless at very close range, was very difficult.
There was no need of reassuring her--words would have been useless.
In answer to her questions I told her that the storm was unusually
severe, but the yacht had passed through many fully as bad, and there
was no reason to expect a different result on the present occasion,
though it was always the part of wisdom to be prepared for the worst.
“Yes, we are in God’s hands, Morgan,” she said, and I felt as though
drawn nearer to Heaven by such sublime faith as this.
Strange what thoughts will flash athwart the mind even when on the
brink of eternity.
Standing there and looking in her heavenly eyes, now filled with
such womanly fear, I wondered what fate had in store for us--we who
had separated through pique and been brought together again in this
wonderful, this almost miraculous manner.
Could it be that just as I was about to claim Paradise again, it would
be but to die with this loved one in my arms; or would a kinder fate
allow us to live through the horror of storm and wreck, saved for each
other as by a miracle.
As Hildegarde so gravely said, only God knew.
She called my attention to the child, who had become very ill from the
violent motion of the plunging boat.
There was no relief at such a time, though I felt sorry for little
Carmencita--her affection for Hildegarde endeared her to me, and I
spoke a few words to cheer her as she lay there, ghastly yellow, her
great black eyes seeming to almost start out of her head with mingled
nausea and fright.
“We will try and have some breakfast, though it must be a cold one,” I
said, knowing the cook, if able to stand on his pins at all, which was
doubtful, would never get a fire started.
She shook her head as if to declare she had no appetite; but I felt it
was wise to force ourselves to eat something, since the time might be
close at hand when we would need all the strength we could muster.
I busied myself about this; there are times when a little work serves
to dissipate the awful chill of despair.
Diana had changed her mood, or at least it seemed to have reached
another stage--her whole appearance indicated hopelessness, and she
turned with loathing from the wine and biscuit I offered--I believe she
hated me because I had, with the heartiest intentions in the world,
invited them to join me on a winter cruise.
Gustavus accepted gladly, evidently feeling the need of some staying
quality inside; if the worst came, I knew I could depend upon him to do
all that lay in the power of a man for his wife, and the result must
rest in higher hands than ours.
I ate more to encourage Hildegarde than because I had any desire for
food; indeed, who could feel hungry while the awful churning motion of
the vessel continued; and we were fearful with each dip that our time
had come?
I would have given much to have reassured Hildegarde, to have told her
how my heart was filled with a yearning love for her in this dread hour
of peril; but that must have consumed words, and the circumstances were
against speech.
I did take her hand on leaving, and looking in her eyes, managed to say:
“Keep up a brave heart, and pray for us all, Hildegarde. You can depend
upon me at the worst--always remember that I live or die with you.”
Such a strange look she gave me--I could not fathom its meaning; there
was yearning in it, and at the same time distrust. The barrier had not
yet been removed, in spite of my service in her behalf.
That was no time to worry over such things, with life and death hanging
in the balance.
All through the wretched morning the yacht labored heavily in the grasp
of the wild tempest.
Surely such a fearful gale had not visited the great gulf at this
season for years.
Many times hope was dashed down and despair took its place, as some
unusually drastic punishment was dealt out to the struggling yacht, and
the danger seemed at a grand climax.
Again and again we won out by a bare neck, as it were, and as the
day wore on I began to think we might fight the gale to a successful
conclusion.
I believe I lived years in that morning, and that gray hairs would mark
the experience, such was the awful strain on our nerves.
We were doing all we could, and the result rested in the Providence
that watched over us.
So eight bells found us.
I hunted up Robbins to get his opinion, and learning that he was in the
wheelhouse, watched my opportunity, scurried across the wet deck ankle
deep in water that could not escape fast enough, and managed to dash
into shelter just before another billow broke over us.
Cummings and Karl Wagner were also there, and hard pressed to keep a
course.
They complained of the compass, and declared it acted as unsteady as
during a magnetic storm.
It had never played us any tricks before, but had always been perfectly
reliable.
If we got off our course, the consequences might be disastrous. Ugh!
I had no desire to even think of that, remembering what a cruel and
treacherous stretch of coast extended along the border of Bolivar.
We talked matters over.
It was anything but bright, the outlook.
The barometer had gone down abnormally low, the reading being almost at
twenty-eight, which proclaimed that we had not yet passed the apex or
crown of the storm, which, in a hurricane, is called the core or center
of disturbance.
Could we stand more of it, and worse?
I felt a cold chill chase up and down my spinal column; the grim
specter grew more positive. We were facing a grave peril, and the
chances seemed against us.
Robbins was the man for the hour--Robbins, who seemed to know just what
should be done, and whose valiant spirit could never be daunted by the
fiercest storm that ever blew in this hurricane sea.
I rejoiced to think what a lucky chance sent him my way when I wandered
amid the flower-strewn _calles_ of Bolivar; he might yet prove the rock
of our salvation.
All had been done that was possible, and, while stout hearts tried to
hold the course, we could only await the result.
About two o’clock the scene was at its worst.
I never expect to look upon the like again, and even at this distant
day I am apt to feel a shudder at the recollection of it all.
Still, we kept our head up in the teeth of the gale, though how fast we
were being washed to leeward, and toward the coast, none among us could
even hazard a guess.
Then a gleam of hope came--the mercury was beginning to rise--the worst
had been passed.
So night found us tossing almost helplessly on those mountainous seas,
but with some reason to believe we might be saved.
The cook, after infinite trouble, managed to get us a pot of tea, and
with this we made out to have an indifferent meal.
Diana still remained in her room and refused to let her husband leave
her, so I served them there as best I could.
Poor girl, she was a wreck; no one would recognize the dashing belle
in this wild-eyed, hysterical creature, with half a dozen cork
life-preservers tied about her, ready to start up with a scream
whenever our stanch little ocean steed plunged down a comber.
Hildegarde, still pale, was a wonderful contrast, and my heart grew
proud of her.
She ate composedly, and it was a strange meal we sat down to; never had
I expected to sit in her presence again, and see her hands pour out the
tea. What if half of it was spilled, the charm was there just the same.
And my spirits arose; hope began to weave its subtle cords about my
heart.
Sharp contrasts exist in this world--Paradise actually borders upon the
fields of woe.
Just as I was feeling a warmth in the region of my heart, and picking
up new courage in her presence, there was a sudden, tremendous crash,
a dreadful quiver throughout the yacht, and our forward rush came to a
sudden end.
I knew what the dreadful catastrophe meant--the coast was on our lee,
and we had struck a reef!