WORSE THAN WILDERNESS
A wail from Miss Leslie roused the Englishman out of a dream in which he
had been swimming for life across a sea of boiling oil. He sat up and
gazed about him, half dazed. The cyclone had been followed by a dead
calm, and the sun, already well above the horizon, was blazing upon them
over the glassy surfaces of the dying swells with fierce heat.
Winthrope felt about for his hat. It had been blown off when, at the
striking of the steamer, he had rushed up on deck. As he remembered,
he straightened, and looked at his companions. Blake lay snoring where
he had first outstretched himself, sleeping the sleep of the just--and
of the drunkard. The girl, however, was already awake. She sat with her
hands clasped in her lap, while the tears rolled slowly down her cheeks.
"My--ah--dear Miss Genevieve, what is the matter?" exclaimed Winthrope.
"Matter? Do you ask, when we are here on this wretched coast, and may
not get away for weeks? Oh, I did so count on the London season this
year! Lady Bayrose promised that I should be among those presented."
"Well, I--ah--fancy, Lady Bayrose will do no more presenting--unless it
may be to the heavenly choir, you know."
"Why, what do you mean, Mr. Winthrope? You told me that she and the
maids had been put in the largest boat--"
"My dear Miss Genevieve, you must remember that I am a diplomat. It was
all quite sufficiently harrowing, I assure you. They were, indeed, put
into the largest boat--Beastly muddle!--While they waited for the mate to
fetch you, the boat was crushed alongside, and all in it drowned."
"Drowned!--drowned! Oh, dear Lady Bayrose! And she'd travelled so
much--oh, oh, it is horrible! Why did she persuade me to visit the Cape?
It was only to be with her--And then for us to start off for India, when
we might have sailed straight to England! Oh, it is horrible! horrible!
And my maid, and all--It cannot be possible!"
"Pray, do not excite yourself, my dear Miss Genevieve. Their troubles
are all over. Er--Gawd has taken them to Him, you know."
"But the pity of it! To be drowned--so far from home!"
"Ah, if that's all you're worrying about!--I must say I'd like to
know how we'll get a snack for breakfast. I'm hungry as a--er--groom."
"Eating! How can you think of eating, Mr. Winthrope--and all the others
drowned? This sun is becoming dreadfully hot. It is unbearable! Can you
not put up some kind of an awning?"
"Well, now, I must say, I was never much of a hand at such things, and
really I can't imagine what one could rig up. There might have been a
bit of sail in the boat, but one can't see a sign of it. I fancy it was
smashed."
Miss Leslie ventured a glance at Blake. Though still lying as he had
sprawled in his drunkenness, there was a comforting suggestion of power
in his broad shoulders and square jaw.
"Is he still--in that condition?"
"Must have slept it off by this time, and there's no more in the
flask," answered Winthrope. Reaching over with his foot, he pushed
against Blake's back.
"Huh! All right," grunted the sleeper, and sat up, as had Winthrope,
half dazed. Then he stared around him, and rose to his feet. "Well, what
in hell! Say, this is damn cheerful!"
"I fancy we are in a nasty fix. But I say, my man, there is a woman
present, and your language, you know--"
Blake turned and fixed the Englishman with a cold stare.
"Look here, you bloomin' lud," he said, "there's just one thing
you're going to understand, right here and now. I'm not your man,
and we're not going to have any of that kind of blatter. Any fool
can see we're in a tight hole, and we're like to keep company for a
while--probably long as we last."
"What--ah--may I ask, do you mean by that?"
Blake laughed harshly, and pointed from the reef-strewn sea to the vast
stretches of desolate marsh. Far inland, across miles of brackish lagoons
and reedy mud-flats, could be seen groups of scrubby, half-leafless
trees; ten or twelve miles to the southward a rocky headland jutted out
into the water; otherwise there was nothing in sight but sea and swamp.
If it could not properly be termed a sea-view, it was at least a very
wet landscape.
"Fine prospect," remarked Blake, dryly. "We'll be in luck if the
fever don't get the last of us inside a month; and as for you two,
you'd have as much show of lasting a month as a toad with a rattlesnake,
if it wasn't for Tom Blake,--that's my name--Tom Blake,--and as
long as this shindy lasts, you're welcome to call me Tom or Blake,
whichever suits. But understand, we're not going to have any more
of your bloody, bloomin' English condescension. Aboard ship you had
the drop on me, and could pile on dog till the cows came home. Here
I'm Blake, and you're Winthrope."
"Believe me, Mr. Blake, I quite appreciate the--ah--situation. And now,
I fancy that, instead of wasting time--"
"It's about time you introduced me to the lady," interrupted Blake,
and he stared at them half defiantly, yet with a twinkle in his eyes.
Miss Leslie flushed. Winthrope swore softly, and bit his lip. Aboard
ship, backed by Lady Bayrose and the captain, he had goaded the American
at pleasure. Now, however, the situation was reversed. Both title and
authority had been swept away by the storm, and he was left to shift
for himself against the man who had every reason to hate him for his
overbearing insolence. Worse still, both he and Miss Leslie were now
dependent upon the American, in all probability for life itself. It was a
bitter pill and hard to swallow.
Blake was not slow to observe the Englishman's hesitancy. He grinned.
"Every dog has his day, and I guess this is mine," he said. "Take
your time, if it comes hard. I can imagine it's a pretty stiff dose
for your ludship. But why in--why in frozen hades an American lady should
object to an introduction to a countryman who's going to do his level
best to save her pretty little self from the hyenas--well, it beats me."
Winthrope flushed redder than the girl.
"Miss Leslie, Mr. Blake," he murmured, hoping to put an end to the
situation.
But yet Blake persisted. He bowed, openly exultant.
"You see, Miss," he said, "I know the correct thing quite as much as
your swells. I knew all along you were Jenny Leslie. I ran a survey for
your dear papa when he was manipulating the Q. T. Railroad, and he did
me out of my pay."
"Oh, but Mr. Blake, I am sure it must be a mistake; I am sure that if
it is explained to papa--"
"Yes; we'll cable papa to-night. Meantime, we've something else to
do. Suppose you two get a hustle on yourselves, and scrape up something
to eat. I'm going out to see what's left of that blamed old tub."
"Surely you'll not venture to swim out so far!" protested Winthrope.
"I saw the steamer sink as we cast off."
"Looks like a mast sticking up out there. Maybe some of the rigging is
loose."
"But the sharks! These waters swarm with the vile creatures. You must
not risk your life!"
"'Cause why? If I do, the babes in the woods will be left without even
the robins to cover them, poor things! But cheer up!--maybe the mud-hens
will do it with lovely water-lilies."
"Please, Mr. Blake, do not be so cruel!" sobbed Miss Leslie, her tears
starting afresh. "The sun makes my head ache dreadfully, and I have no
hat or shade, and I'm becoming so thirsty!"
"And you think you've only to wait, and half a dozen stewards will
come running with parasols and ice water. Neither you nor Winthrope seem
to 've got your eyes open. Just suppose you get busy and do something.
Winthrope, chase yourself over the mud, and get together a mess of fish
that are not too dead. Must be dozens, after the blow. As for you, Miss
Jenny, I guess you can pick up some reeds, and rig a headgear out of this
handkerchief-- Wait a moment. Put on my coat, if you don't want to be
broiled alive through the holes of that peek-a-boo."
"But I say, Blake--" began Winthrope.
"Don't say--do!" rejoined Blake; and he started down the muddy shore.
Though the tide was at flood, there was now no cyclone to drive the
sea above the beach, and Blake walked a quarter of a mile before he
reached the water's edge. There was little surf, and he paused only a
few moments to peer out across the low swells before he commenced to
strip.
Winthrope and Miss Leslie had been watching his movements; now the girl
rose in a little flurry of haste, and set to gathering reeds. Winthrope
would have spoken, but, seeing her embarrassment, smiled to himself, and
began strolling about in search of fish.
It was no difficult search. The marshy ground was strewn with dead
sea-creatures, many of which were already shrivelling and drying in
the sun. Some of the fish had a familiar look, and Winthrope turned them
over with the tip of his shoe. He even went so far as to stoop to pick
up a large mullet; but shrank back, repulsed by its stiffness and the
unnatural shape into which the sun was warping it.
He found himself near the beach, and stood for half an hour or more
watching the black dot far out in the water,--all that was to be seen
of Blake. The American, after wading off-shore another quarter of a
mile, had reached swimming depth, and was heading out among the reefs
with steady, vigorous strokes. Half a mile or so beyond him Winthrope
could now make out the goal for which he was aiming,--the one remaining
topmast of the steamer.
"By Jove, these waters are full of sharks!" murmured Winthrope, staring
at the steadily receding dot until it disappeared behind the wall of surf
which spumed up over one of the outer reefs.
A call from Miss Leslie interrupted his watch, and he hastened to
rejoin her. After several failures, she had contrived to knot Blake's
handkerchief to three or four reeds in the form of a little sunshade. Her
shoulders were protected by Blake's coat. It made a heavy wrap, but
it shut out the blistering sun-rays, which, as Blake had foreseen, had
quickly begun to burn the girl's delicate skin through her open-work
bodice.
Thus protected, she was fairly safe from the sun. But the sun was by no
means the worst feature of the situation. While Winthrope was yet several
yards distant, the girl began to complain to him. "I'm so thirsty,
Mr. Winthrope! Where is there any water? Please get me a drink at once,
Mr. Winthrope!"
"But, my dear Miss Leslie, there is no water. These pools are all
sea-water. I must say, I'm deuced dry myself. I can't see why that
cad should go off and leave us like this, when we need him most."
"Indeed, it is a shame--Oh, I'm so thirsty! Do you think it would help
if we ate something?"
"Make it all the worse. Besides, how could we cook anything? All these
reeds are green, or at least water-soaked."
"But Mr, Blake said to gather some fish. Had you not best--"
"He can pick up all he wants. I shall not touch the beastly things."
"Then I suppose there is nothing to do but wait for him."
"Yes, if the sharks do not get him."
Miss Leslie uttered a little moan, and Winthrope, seeing that she was
on the verge of tears, hastened to reassure her. "Don't worry about
him, Miss Genevieve! He'll soon return, with nothing worse than a
blistered back. Fellows of that sort are born to hang, you know."
"But if he should be--if anything should happen to him!"
Winthrope shrugged his shoulders, and drew out his silver cigarette
case. It was more than half full, and he was highly gratified to find
that neither the cigarettes nor the vesta matches in the cover had been
reached by the wet.
"By Jove, here's luck!" he exclaimed, and he bowed to Miss Leslie.
"Pardon me, but if you have no objections--"
The girl nodded as a matter of form, and Winthrope hastened to light the
cigarette already in his fingers. The smoke by no means tended to lessen
the dryness of his mouth; yet it put him in a reflective mood, and in
thinking over what he had read of shipwrecked parties, he remembered that
a pebble held in the mouth is supposed to ease one's thirst.
To be sure, there was not a sign of a pebble within miles of where they
sat; but after some reflection, it occurred to him that one of his steel
keys might do as well. At first Miss Leslie was reluctant to try the
experiment, and only the increasing dryness of her mouth forced her to
seek the promised relief. Though it failed to quench her thirst, she
was agreeably surprised to find that the little flat bar of metal eased
her craving to a marked degree.
Winthrope now thought to rig a shade as Miss Leslie had done, out of
reeds and his handkerchief, for the sun was scorching his unprotected
head. Thus sheltered, the two crouched as comfortably as they could
upon the half-dried crest of the hummock, and waited impatiently for
the return of Blake.