FESSENDEN'S ISLAND.
The steamer throbbed and snorted on its voyage round the bay, like
some big amphibian of palæozoic times, parting the glassy waters right
and left, and leaving a long regurgitating trail of swelling waves and
eddies in its wake. The sun, now overhead, shed down his beams with an
unmitigated ardour, and the water cast back the glare with blistering
intensity. There really had arisen a languid air-current from the
shore, as Walter Petty had predicted; but the boat was now heading
down the bay towards the open sea, and travelling with the breeze, so
that on board it seemed to have fallen calm, and was hot and stifling
to a degree.
The chat among the voyagers flickered low, and then went out, like the
flame of candles in an unwholesome well. Every one sought for shade,
and gasped beneath an umbrella, or in some darkened corner of the
saloon, collapsed and listless. But the steamer snorted on its way,
regardless of their comfort, and gleeful, as it seemed, in the
increasing heat; for now she belched forth smoke, and weltered in it,
letting it curl and twist about her fore and aft, borne on the chasing
breeze--as though the sportive monster were shaking out her mane, as
is said to be the wont of the sea-serpent when he rises from the deep
to fright lone mariners. She had grown fiendish in her mood, that
misguided steamer, filling the air with foulness, and showering smuts
on the white umbrellas, the fresh toilets, and even the dainty nose of
beauty. It grew intolerable, and the passengers might have risen in
mutiny and altered the vessel's course, but that the heat had left
them limp and lacking energy. They only groaned and imprecated; while
the steersman stood like a wooden image by the wheel, one turn of
which would have blown away the mischief, looking at their misery with
unwinking eyes, and laughing mayhap down deep within his wooden ribs.
The mouth of the bay was reached in time, and the islands with their
straits and narrows, and winding channels running in between; and
beyond, the blue Atlantic. A new life breathed on them the moment they
passed the cape which terminates the bay. Like pent-up invalids
escaping from a sickroom, they held up their faces to the sky to drink
great breaths of freshness. Out there it is always cool, however the
sun may beat. They threaded the channels among the islands, and then
sailed out into the far-extending blue, and were refreshed.
Noon was long passed, although they had breakfasted early, before it
occurred to any one to feel hungry; but at length the idea of luncheon
presented itself to many minds about the same time, as something which
would be agreeable. The steamer was put about, and they returned back
among the islands. One of them, Fessenden's Island by name, lay most
open to the ocean, and farther out than the others. On this they
landed. It seemed intended by nature for their purpose, having a
little cove with shelving bottom which admitted their vessel, and a
seaward boundary of rocky ledges sinking perpendicularly in deep water
on the inward side, so that they could moor themselves to the shore as
comfortably as at a wharf, without the inconvenient intervention of
the boats.
The hotel servants quickly got their hampers landed, and soon the
repast was spread in the slowly broadening shadow of neighbouring
rocks, while the party encamped beneath their umbrellas on the scrubby
sea-grass, or fetched themselves seats from the ship hard by. The
clatter of knives and plates, the popping of corks, and the din of
voices, startled the sea-fowl where they perched overhead; they
screeched and fluttered angrily at the unwonted disturbance, and
taking to the wing, they wheeled and circled in the air above,
surveying the intruders, and eyeing the meats which fear alone
prevented their pouncing down on and bearing away, and finally, with a
parting scream, flew seaward in a long white trail and disappeared.
The tide had turned. Two hours were allowed to spend on shore. After
that, the steamer was to blow its whistle, and they must re-embark and
get away, or the ship would be left stranded by the ebb, to await the
following tide. The party having refreshed, broke up, and wandered
apart as chance directed, to explore the island. Mrs Naylor found
herself comfortable in her chair. Uneven walking over rocks presented
no attractions. Digestion and fresh air, combined with snatches of
light reading and chit-chat, seemed a more rational enjoyment. "But,
Margaret, my dear, I will not interfere with your more energetic
tastes," she said; "you can go, if you like, and scramble on the rocks
like the rest. I shall do nicely with these ladies. Mr Wilkie, I am
sure, will kindly see that you do not fall over a precipice."
Mr Wilkie rose alertly, and Margaret followed. She had meant to go
away more quietly, later on, under the care of Walter Petty, whom she
noticed lingering within call. He was so devotedly kind and
respectful, that the girl could not but have a kindness for him. He
would have liked to go, she saw, and he would have answered better for
the purpose she had in view; though it was not, as he might fondly
hope, to purr soft nothings in sequestered nooks. However, fate and
her mother had imposed the more self-satisfied and confident gallant,
and she must submit; though she felt a qualm of self-reproach in
meeting the other's glance, in which disappointment seemed blended
with a shade of remonstrance. Had she not shown a preference for
him in the boat over that long-tongued rival, whom he cordially
detested?--turned away from his longwinded rigmarole about travel, to
ask sensible information from himself? There was no understanding
those girls, and no use trusting them. And yet this one was
so--so--what was she not, in fact? But it was desolating, all the
same. He could not bring himself to join any one else, though there
were "fellows" as well as girls who would have been glad of his
company. There was his pipe, however, that silent friend, so soothing
and so unobtrusive in its consolations. He would have recourse to
that; and scrambling out to the extremity of the ledge beyond the
steamboat, he sat him down beside the sad sea wave and blew a
melancholy cloud.
Margaret and Wilkie scrambled along the shore, made difficult with
rocks and heaped-up boulders. They clambered briskly enough until they
had doubled a promontory which secluded them from observation, and
then Mr Peter heaved a sigh of mingled relief and exhaustion.
"What an abominable way we have come, Miss Naylor! I am fairly blown.
Here is a smooth rock at last; let us sit and enjoy the view."
"I am not tired at all, Mr Wilkie. Let us get on."
"I do not think we can, Miss Margaret. The shore grows steeper. We
should have to take to those rocks lower down, all wet and slimy. It
is scarcely safe. Look at the view from here! Look at the expanse of
sea! It might be the Mediterranean, so blue and sunny. And those banks
of cloud along the horizon--are they not fine?"
"Very fine, Mr Wilkie, but I want to see the island."
"My dear young lady, islands are all the same, and one part of one of
them is just like another part. We need not flounder farther than
we have come already, to know this one by heart. It is ditto all
over--rocks sticking out of the water to support a little earth and a
few sea-birds."
"But I have never been upon an island before, except those wooded ones
on the St Lawrence, which do not at all answer to your description.
They are nests floating on the water, and simply lovely. I want to see
more of this one. Our St Lawrence islands are covered with trees. Are
there none here?"
"Too exposed here, you may be sure. A gooseberry-bush would be blown
down in the winter gales, not to speak of a tree. Besides, we really
cannot go farther along this detestable shore. The sharp stones will
cut the boot-soles off your feet."
"Then let us go inland. Why should we keep to the shore? The ground
slopes up easily enough; let us go to the top and gain a bird's-eye
view of the island. No, really, I could not think of sitting down. We
shall have more than enough of that in the steamboat before we get
home."
And so the young man, finding he could not persuade, had perforce to
let himself be persuaded, and follow when he would have led--or
rather, sat down.
The slope was not very steep, though it was longer than Peter would
have expected a walk on so small an island could be; but at length
they reached the rounded flatness of the summit, and looked around.
The island spread out beneath on every side, and the sister islands
were marshalled north and south like sentinels to guard the inner
waters. Lippenstock Bay lay within them, a burnished glass throwing
back the sunshine; and the country beyond looked higher, more varied
and important than when seen from the water-level. An unmistakable
breeze had now sprung up, and was carrying straggling wreaths of cloud
before it, the vanguard of more solid masses which were creeping up
the sky from the distant west. Eastward the ocean now had lost its
sapphire blueness and grown dull and grey, while far out toward the
horizon it lowered beneath the oncome of the rising clouds, great
cumulus masses lifting themselves in heaven and advancing against the
breeze. They caught the rays of the opposing sun upon their breasts,
and flashed them back, and sprinkled them on the sea, turning its
lively blue to a white sickly grey.
"What splendid clouds!" cried Margaret. "But there will be a storm.
When those clouds from the east meet the clouds in the west, we shall
have thunder."
"I remember a sky the day I crossed the St Gothard, going down into
the plains of Italy. Very fine it was----"
"Yes; I daresay it would be. The Old World must be a very superior
place to this poor continent of ours. Even the sun and moon must shine
better over there, by all accounts. The wonder is, how any of you
travelled folks ever cared to come here at all. But say! there is
quite a breeze coming down the bay; where can that sail-boat we were
watching have gone? I cannot make out a sail anywhere. Is it the
dazzle from the water that conceals it, do you think? Or can it be hid
behind one of the islands, I wonder?"
"I see something white flapping behind that promontory down there,
where the channel narrows between this island and the next. There it
falls! They have taken it down. The men must be landing."
"Where? Ah! let us run down and see."
Peter would have liked to bite his tongue. Found guilty of that
offence unpardonable in trans-Atlantic eyes, of praising the Old World
at the expense of the New, he had thought to make his peace by
discovering for his companion the object for which her eyes were
searching the prospect; and he had done it with a vengeance. Not only
was the offence forgotten, but himself seemed likely to be forgotten
or overlooked as well. To think that he could be _gauche_ enough to
conduct his fair one into the arms of the very rival who had aroused
his suspicion that morning! He had forgotten since then; things had
gone so smoothly and pleasantly. What an awakening! "Duffer!" he
muttered below his breath, and felt humbled indeed. But he made one
poor struggle with destiny ere he yielded. He pulled out his watch,
and asked his companion with a start if she had any idea what was the
hour.
"The tide is turning, you must remember," he added. "We shall hear the
whistle within fifteen minutes, and the steamer cannot wait. The
skipper says she will be grounded by the ebb if we are not off by
four. And a storm is coming on. I declare I hear distant thunder
already. How dim the light is getting, too! It will take all we can do
to be back in time. We have only twenty minutes."
"Your watch must be fast," and Margaret pulled out her own. "Ten
minutes past three I make it, and I know mine is fast. See the groups
scattered all over the island! No one has thought of turning yet.
There is Judge Petty with his hammer pounding specimens out of yon
cliff. Yonder is my sister with somebody picking flowers for her.
Nobody thinks of gathering _me_ a bouquet, ever. There is a party down
there in the hollow, and I can distinguish Lettice Deane's voice quite
plainly; and far over are two people standing on the edge of a cliff
showing like silhouettes against the open sea. Uncle Joseph is one of
them. No one is thinking of turning back."
"But, Miss Naylor, the storm will be on directly. Observe how dim it
grows. You will get drenched with rain."
"I don't think it will rain till evening."
"Indeed it will. See how the clouds are coming up! Hear to the
rumbling thunder!"
"I am not afraid. But if you think otherwise, I should not like to
spoil your pleasure with the prospect of a wetting. Good-bye. You can
tell them to expect me shortly." And she skipped away.
There was nothing for Peter but to follow, little as he could expect
his presence to be welcome when they should come on that rival at the
bottom of the hill. He hated the fellow, of course, and wished him
"far enough," but he could not help feeling curious to see him. Yet he
followed without alacrity. For the sake of argument, he had spoken of
the light as growing dim; now he felt it to be so indeed. The warmth
and brightness had gone out of the day for him, and it was become a
common thing. Not that he would have said so. The poet's trick of
drawing voices from inanimate nature to express or sympathise with
his momentary emotions was none of his. He was matter-of-fact and
common-sensical to a degree, if at the same time lucid-minded and
intelligent: but still he was human like the rest of us; and for that
matter so is the poet, "fed with the same food, hurt with the same
weapons, subject to the same diseases." If he were not, what would his
utterances be worth? His gift is utterance, but the thing he utters
must be within the possibility of all to feel. And Peter felt, though
the influence had stolen on him unawares. He had been in Margaret's
company through successive hours, and she was a flower too fresh and
sweet for any insect to have fluttered round so long without becoming
intoxicated somewhat with the fragrance.
At the bottom of the hill, behind an intervening rock, they came
upon a sandy beach, the extremity of a bar which runs across to the
nearest island, connecting the two at low water, and forming the only
landing-place other than that of which the steamer had possession. The
boatmen were securing their craft as the two came in view. One of them
with a shout sprang forward and bounded up the steep to meet them. He
seized both Margaret's hands and shook them rapturously; then,
remembering that she had a companion, to be accepted as a necessary
evil, he turned round to Peter, raised his hat, and ceremoniously
wished him good-day.
Peter returned the salute, and looked curiously in the other's face to
divine what manner of man this favoured one might be, if haply he
might yet be dealt with, outman[oe]uvred, or supplanted, and
recognised with astonishment that it was "that" young Blount who had
spent a few days at Clam Beach. His feelings expressed themselves in a
low, scarce audible whistle; and circumstances, looks, tones, details
from the week before, so trivial that he had not been conscious of
remembering them, sprang suddenly into knowledge and arranged
themselves; as when a thread is dropped into a chemical solution,
crystals gather from the fluid, and shape themselves with mathematical
precision round the nucleus. The circumstances strung themselves in an
induction amounting to demonstration, that Margaret Naylor had
bestowed her regards, and that he had come too late into the field.
The young people were assiduously polite to Mr Peter. They did not
wish that unkind rumours of their meeting should circulate in the
hotel, and they would not request him to keep a secret for them--their
feelings would not permit them to do that--so both endeavoured to
conciliate his goodwill. They did what they could to include him in
their conversation; but he was inattentive, answering at random or not
at all. The sudden revelation had confused him like a blow, and his
thoughts kept wandering back to the details on which his induction was
based, trying them and endeavouring to shake their consistency,
wondering that he had not read the truth before, and pitying himself
in what now seemed his disappointment.
His answers were made at random, but they did not observe it. They
were feeding their eyes upon each other's faces, after a three days'
separation, and they had no thought for anything but the delight of
being together. How good it was! They babbled, scarcely knowing what
they spoke of, and any observation which Peter chose to interject was
perfectly good as conversation in their eyes, sitting there together
on the shore, touching one another, looking shyly in each other's
eyes, hearing each other's voices, and being happy. Peter lounged
beside them on the ground, twisting his awkward limbs into uncouth
knots, and feeling dull and flattened out, defeated and humbled,
though nobody had done anything to him whatever.
And time and tide went on their wonted course, but no one of the three
took notice of their passing.