A DESPERATE RESORT
In the early days of the Great War, a voyage to India had no terrors for
the travelled. Before the Hun had proved himself a savage in warfare,
indifferent to all international laws and the dictates of humanity, the
only anxieties and drawbacks suffered on the way, were those in relation
to the risk of encountering mines, or the delays caused by the changing
of routes. The nerves of the public had not been harrowed by tales of
atrocities on the high seas, and the nation confidingly believed that
the glorious traditions of naval warfare were respected even by Germany.
It had yet to learn what manner of people the Allies were fighting. The
difficulties and dangers of a sea voyage only added to the thrill of
expectancy, and the contingency of meeting with German raiders on the
way, was like having a bit of Marryat's novels in real life; fear was an
unknown quantity.
As Kitty anticipated, she met with little opposition from her parents in
the matter of her engagement, or of her voyage to India under her
sister's chaperonage, with the prospect of a wedding at the end of it.
Since she had always managed things her own way, there was little use
wasting time in argument. Jack was a very fine fellow indeed, and Kitty
might do worse than marry him. At all events, he was the man of her own
choice.
Accordingly, a trousseau was acquired regardless of cost, and, the
moment Jack's orders arrived recalling him to duty--which was towards
the end of August--trunks were packed, passages were booked, and the
party crossed to France, _en route_ to Marseilles.
Jack's feelings can be better imagined than described. In his wildest
dreams he had not hoped for such luck as a speedy marriage with Kitty,
and he was rendered, for a time, incapable of coherent thought. They
boarded the mail boat at Marseilles and settled down as an engaged
couple to enjoy the days at sea to the extent of their capacity.
Beyond an occasional cruiser in the distance, or a destroyer there was
nothing throughout the voyage to remind them of the war; and, from the
point of view of belligerency, it was both uneventful and calm.
As recognised lovers, Kitty and Jack had the choice of sheltered nooks
and were left to themselves, undisturbed, except by camera fiends who
snapped them at embarrassing moments and made themselves generally
obnoxious.
Being absorbed in his happiness, Jack had given no thought to Mrs. Fox
who was awaiting him in Calcutta, till, one day, in the Arabian Sea, the
imminent prospect of their meeting filled him with uneasiness and
obliged him to consider his position seriously. As far as he knew, she
was expecting to fall into his arms on his reappearance in India. She
knew nothing of his new-found happiness and was very likely wondering at
his reason for having missed so many mails. She would not follow him to
England since she was aware that all leave was cancelled.
So awkward was the situation, that Jack was greatly disturbed and sought
the advice of a ship-board acquaintance who happened to be a young man
of wide experience in the affairs of the heart.
"I should tell my _fiancee_, in your place," said he. "Put it to her
straight. The great thing is to get your story in before the other has a
chance to cut the ground from under your feet. That is, if she is the
sort to do it."
"She's the sort right enough," said Jack miserably. "She would do it to
spite me for breaking my word to her; but--damn it!--I'd rather be shot
than become her husband, now that I am crazy after the sweetest girl in
the world, and she is ready to marry me!"
"Then have it over. It is better than someone telling her at a
tea-party,--'Didn't he ever confess himself to you?--naughty boy'! and
so on. Or the disappointed one butting in with--'Hands off! He is
promised to me!' which is more than likely."
So Jack decided to make his confession, prostrate at her feet,
metaphorically.
While the lovers were living in a world of their own, Joyce was learning
many things, chiefly courage and patience. Her fellow-passengers courted
her society; she was considered the loveliest of women; and all combined
to spoil her with flattery and attentions. However, she was too much
absorbed in her own thoughts, her manner was too cold and aloof to lend
encouragement to flatterers who vied with each other in serving her and
disputed among themselves for her favours. She took no real interest in
what was going on, to realise the half of it; and her indifference
rendered her the more alluring. But Joyce had had a life-long lesson at
Muktiarbad, and not being by nature, a flirt, the result was that the
childish coquetries of the past were abandoned for a dignity and reserve
that would have satisfied the most jealous of husbands.
She had not cabled to India. A desire to read her fate in her husband's
eyes had fixed her determination to take him by surprise. She would then
know at the first glance whether she were welcome or had ceased to reign
supreme in his heart.
Honor had advised her to cable. But this was entirely her own affair and
she would go through with it. She had a right to expect her husband's
love and loyalty; and this being the case, there could be no objection
to her taking him unawares. Joy does not kill; and if she did not bring
him happiness, it were as well for her not to be deceived. Such was her
logic, which she kept to herself, being too proud to share her doubts
with Kitty.
One day, as she lay in a deck chair, apparently dozing with her book
open on her lap, she overheard two women gossiping together behind the
angle of the saloon. They were talking of friends in Darjeeling, and
their voices had lulled her into a state of semi-consciousness, till the
name "Meredith" made her alive to the fact that her husband was under
discussion.
"Not the planter, Tom Meredith, but the I. C. S. man."
"Any relation of the pretty creature with us?"
"I am sure I can't say. He is married, I am told, with a wife at home.
'When the cat's away, the mice _will_ play,' you know! She is a widow,
or passes for one, and neither cares a snap of the finger for the talk
about them. All Darjeeling is scandalised, and that's saying a good
deal! My friend writes that the woman nursed him while he was ill from
sunstroke in some outlandish station in Bengal, and they became
fearfully intimate. These nurses know a thing or two and can make
themselves indispensable if they like. Men generally find them
irresistible. However, it is rather rough on his wife at home, when you
come to think of it."
"What has the nurse to do with him, now that he has recovered?"
"Ah, that's the point! She stays at the same hotel nominally looking
after a delicate baby whose parents are in the plains; but the kid gets
precious little of her attention. It is left to the ayah's tender
mercies while the nurse goes about with Mr. Meredith. They are never
seen apart, and she spends most of her time in his rooms. It puts me in
mind of that divorce case you may remember two years ago at Simla,
when"--and the conversation was diverted into other channels.
Meanwhile, Joyce was hot and cold with conflicting emotions. Without
question, it was her husband they had been discussing, for he was in the
Indian Civil Service, and had been sent to Darjeeling to convalesce
after the sunstroke, which had seized him in the District of Muktiarbad,
the "outlandish station" referred to.
By the light of this conversation Honor's letter was explained. She,
too, had heard of the doings at Darjeeling, and in her anxiety had
written that letter imploring her friend to return.
Well--she was returning, but to what?
Her husband was apparently content to be without her--which would
account for the cable message he had sent her on the outbreak of war,
forbidding her to travel.
Joyce rose from her deck chair with a face as white as the foam on the
crested waves, and stumbled to her cabin. "It is nothing," she explained
to fellow-passengers who offered assistance thinking she was likely to
collapse, "only a stupid attack of dizziness--I thought I was a better
sailor, that's all," and she tried to smile.
Kitty was sent to her in hot haste to see what she could do, and was
told the same thing. "I'll be all right after a bit."
"Are you sure?"
"Perfectly," was the assured answer, for Joyce was already determined
not to go down under the blow, but to fight to a finish. Ray--her
husband--false to her? The shame of it--the humiliation, would be
unbearable, if what she had heard were true! It was possible that gossip
had exaggerated the state of things between him and that woman who had
nursed him. Scandalmongers never did give any one the benefit of a
doubt. For instance, scandal might have been busy with her own name and
that of Captain Dalton, but she was innocent in act and thought. She
would not judge hastily; but she would allow no woman to dare to come
between herself and her husband. He was her own man. God had given him
to her, and she was glad she had taken the journey at all costs to put
matters right and send the depraved creature--who was trying to take her
place--about her own business. But if Ray had been false to her--she
knew he could not lie to her--she would....
Joyce seemed to arrive against a blank wall in her mind as she faced
such an unthinkable problem as Ray's unfaithfulness.
Later in the evening when she returned to the deck having gained the
mastery over her nerves, it was to find that an unhappy breach had come
to pass between Kitty and Jack.
Dancing was in full swing on the hurricane deck, a band was discoursing
dreamy melodies, and Jack with his back to the sea was leaning against
the taffrail and glowering at the ship's doctor who was dancing with
Kitty.
As the evening lengthened, it was evident that the latter was bent upon
inflicting all manner of snubs and punishments on her distracted lover
by the taffrail, which in a certain measure, recoiled upon herself.
Finally, when "lights-out" obliged dancing to come abruptly to an end,
Kitty retired to her cabin without so much as a good-night to Jack who
looked as if he had come to the end of all things.
"What is wrong?" Joyce asked her before turning into her berth. "Can I
help?"
"We've had a disagreement. That is all," said Kitty curtly, looking
white and angry. "You have heard of lovers' quarrels, I suppose?"
"There is no need to snap my head off," said Joyce. "I am only sorry to
see it happen. Life is too short for misunderstandings."
"I quite agree with you. But this is not a misunderstanding. I have been
deliberately deceived."
"How do you mean?"
"What's the use of discussing it?"
"There is no use if you are determined not to be helped."
"What can you do? What can any one do? This is a matter which is only
between us. I am sorry I did not know all about it before, or I would
not have become engaged."
A light dawned on Joyce's mind. "Oh--I see. Jack's been telling you
about his foolishness in the past!"
"You call it foolishness?"
"Wasn't it the height of folly to have been silly about a married woman?
and one who isn't worth a thought?"
"It was something worse than folly when it came to his being _engaged to
marry_ her all this time--even when he proposed to me! How dared he do
it? How had he the nerve to ask me to be his wife when he knew she was
waiting to marry him on his return to India, having won her decree?"
"I heard she had divorced her husband--the designing wretch! She is a
perfectly horrid woman. Poor Jack! I don't wonder at his meaning to
throw her over after knowing you!"
"But to be engaged to two women at the same time!--it is wicked and
humiliating! Why didn't you tell me of her?"
"It is something to know that you have saved him from making the mistake
of his life!"--ignoring the question.
This was an inspiration on the part of Joyce, and Kitty was rendered
dumb. Joyce immediately pursued her advantage.
"To have been compelled to marry Mrs. Fox into whose snare he had
fallen, would have been a dreadful thing for poor Jack, who, at the
most, is only an overgrown schoolboy without much experience of the
world. I did not tell you of it as I thought it was over and done with."
"As a man of honour, he is bound to keep his word to her and marry her
as he said he would,"--obstinately.
"I would rather see him dead. There is no honour about Mrs. Fox or her
methods. She deliberately set out to work this thing, and her punishment
is in your hands. Jack loves you. You have no right to force him into
marriage with a woman who will ruin his life for him."
"I think he has behaved abominably."
"If you are looking for perfection in the man you intend to marry, you
had better make up your mind to live an old maid. Good-night!" and
having delivered her parting shot, Joyce turned away, feeling no longer
the same childish creature of a few months ago. She had awakened in
right earnest.
Needless to say, Jack spent the night in his clothes on deck. Sleep was
impossible; and, in the hope that she would relent and creep on deck to
find him and retract the hard things she had said, he haunted the
companion till the stars paled and the day began to break.
But Kitty, though very loving, had a temper that was not easily calmed.
Jack had behaved abominably right through, and should not get things all
his own way, she decided, and while relenting inwardly, she maintained
towards him an attitude of cold disapproval. She had given him back the
ring--which at that moment was burning a hole in his waistcoat
pocket--and had had nothing more to say to him, though, when he was not
conscious of the fact, her eyes often dwelt upon him with wistful
yearning. He might deserve punishment, but there was no doubt about it,
that he was the only man in the world for her! She loved everything
about him, from his curly blond head to the soles of his manly feet. He
was by far the best-looking boy on the ship, and the most simple-minded!
Besides, what was unforgettable, he was a prince of lovers! Was she
going to allow Mrs. Fox to take him?----
Kitty flushed in hot indignation at the thought, but it was right and
proper that he should suffer for his weakness and folly. Of course, she
would have to forgive him or be miserable for the rest of her life,
but--not yet.
The punishment might have continued for days, if Jack's own precipitancy
had not brought about almost a tragedy.
In the morning he gravitated to his friend again, and in a burst of
confidence, related the outcome of his having adopted the course that
had been advised. His friend, wise in the ways of women, listened with
his tongue in his cheek. Not being in love, himself, he could afford to
see the humourous side of Jack's trouble. This time he suggested a ruse.
"Excite her pity, my dear fellow. Do something to rouse her heart. It is
only suffering from shock and will come to the scratch when it is
stirred by pity. The best thing to do is to get seriously ill. Too much
grief--mental strain--has brought on a heart attack. Lie down to it and
kick up a devil of a fuss. I'll tip the doctor a wink and we'll do it in
style. What do you say to that? When she hears you are on the verge of
heart failure, all through her, she'll fall on your neck and wipe out
the past."
"Go to blazes!--I'm not going to do any play-acting and drag the whole
ship into the secret, only to lose any possible chance I might have had
if ever it leaked out."
"Then we'll have to think of something else."
"I think I'll just drop overboard, and end everything," said Jack
melodramatically. "That will show her how I have felt over her treatment
of me!"
"But you'll not be there to enjoy it. Happy thought. Can you swim?"
"Like a fish."
"Good! You can go overboard if she remains relentless, and the thought
that she has driven you to commit suicide, will bring her to you weeping
and repentant the minute you are restored to consciousness."
"What the devil do you mean?"
"Why just an accident, done on purpose. To all it will appear an
accident. To _her_,--attempted suicide. To you and me, simply bluff.
I'll be the first to see you go, and a life-buoy will go after you in a
trice. Only let's know when you contemplate bringing it off, so that I
can be stationed near one. There'll be no time lost. 'Man overboard!'
and the engines will be stopped, reversed, a boat lowered, and there you
are! You'll be fished out apparently drowned--or nearly--and with hot
water bottles and brandy you'll be well enough to see Miss Kitty in your
cabin in half an hour."
"What price, sharks?" asked Jack, to whom the adventure strongly
appealed,--as an adventure, if nothing else. He could imagine the
commotion on the ship, and Kitty, white with anxiety and self-reproach,
hanging over the rails as she watched his chances of recovery from the
briny deep.
"Fellows have been known to fall overboard in the Arabian Sea, and one
never hears of sharks. You'll have to risk it. Take a sailor's knife;
then, if you are attacked you can put up a fight till you are picked
up."
All day Kitty avoided Jack and surrounded herself with the callow youth
of the vessel. She appeared in high spirits, played deck quoits, and did
not give him a minute's chance to get a word with her, till the idea in
his mind, of attempted suicide, took root and developed after serious
and profound thinking. Something would have to be done. He could not
exist another day apart from Kitty, severed from her heart, and
condemned to wear his out in agonies of despair and remorse.
The following morning, after breakfast, Kitty's attitude being
unchanged, Jack hung upon the taffrail, and, surveying the clear,
emerald-green waves as they heaved past the sides of the ship,
telegraphed with his eyes to his resourceful friend.
The sea was choppy and glittered like jewels in the sunlight. Sea-gulls
skimmed the surface and circled in the wake of the steamer, which was
travelling fast, the speed of the engines causing a gentle vibration of
the decks, while the ratlins trembled in the breeze.
It would require some nerve to plunge into the waves, fully clothed; but
he was in light, deck shoes which could be kicked off; and his coat
could easily be sacrificed in the water. It was an old suit!
Sharks?--
They had seen none since entering these waters. Besides, he was ready to
take his chance, or to fight, if it came to the push.
Above all, his act must be made to appear an accident. Kitty, alone,
should think as she pleased, being in a position to supply a possible
motive; and, doubtless, her feelings would be heart-rending.
Jack nerved himself to bring this just punishment upon her obduracy and
took up his position on the taffrail with his back to the sea.
His first act was to note whether Kitty, who was promenading the deck
with a subaltern--called to active service--had any idea of his peril.
She had always discouraged his sitting on the taffrail, saying that it
"got on her nerves."
Kitty glanced towards him, and with an air of indifference continued
promenading.
Jack's already sore heart was lacerated. Could there be any sharks
about?
His friend and ally was to be seen idly lounging in the neighbourhood of
a life-buoy suspended against the rails, further aft.
Just as he was about to let go, someone lounging up, remarked on his
unhealthy pallor. "Feeling the motion of the vessel?" he asked Jack, who
did not know what it was to feel sea-sick.
"Not in the least," said Jack wishing him to the devil.
"It must be the smell of kippers. Frankly, I can't stand them. The stink
hangs about all morning, till one feels one is breathing as well as
eating kippers."
"They have an unholy smell," Jack agreed, wondering when the fellow
would move on, or whether his inopportune presence was to be taken as a
warning not to put his mad intention into effect. He was superstitious
enough to believe in omens.
"I rather like _bumlas_, do you?" was the next remark.
"I don't know--oh, yes, I think they are topping."
"Sort of jelly-substance, and when fried crisp, the last word!"
"Oh, damn!" said Jack aching for him to go.
"What's that?" the man asked, protruding an ear forward. "The wind makes
a devil of a noise in these ropes----"
Someone called him off for quoits, and Jack started to tune up his
nerves again for the plunge.
Children ran between him and the line of chairs he faced. He could see
Joyce Meredith listening idly while the ship's doctor talked to her. At
that moment the subaltern took Kitty's hand in his to examine a ring she
was wearing,--an heirloom, with a story,--and this gave the final
stimulus to Jack's sporting resolve. He was seen suddenly to lose his
balance, throw out his arms, and disappear over the side.
On the instant there was wild confusion. Chairs were flung back,
children shrieked, women fell fainting on the deck. Someone had shouted,
"Man overboard!" which was taken up vociferously in every key by, at
least, a hundred throats, and in less than a minute the engines were
silent, the vessel moving only with its headway. Then, with a blast of
steam, they were reversed. Meanwhile, the after part of the hurricane
deck, and the poop of the second saloon, were packed with eager souls
scanning the surface of the water in the hope of catching sight of their
unfortunate fellow-passenger.
Again the vessel stopped, and a boat was lowered.
"Wonderful presence of mind," the doctor said to Joyce as she, too,
anxiously strained her eyes to look for the reappearance of Jack's form
in the water, which had been seen, and then lost sight of. "Did you hear
how a fellow kept his head when he saw young Darling go over, sending a
life-buoy the same moment after him? Splendid, I call that!"
Joyce was deeply impressed. "He has probably saved Jack's life! Good
man! does any one know where my sister is?"
Kitty was nowhere to be seen. Joyce presently found her in the saloon
crouching on a sofa with her hands over her ears.
"He is drowned, I know he is drowned, and I shall never see him any
more! I have killed him just as surely as if I sent him over with my own
hands!--oh, let me die!" She was beside herself, and her suffering would
not only have more than healed Jack's injured feelings, but have made
him sue for pardon.
Joyce took her in her arms and they clung together, fearful of what they
should presently hear. The shrieks of the women and children were
mingled with the voices of the men shouting instructions from the deck
to the officer in the boat. Nothing definite could be gleaned from the
excited ejaculations of the onlookers.
"What made me do it!--why did I let myself behave so!" Kitty cried
shivering from the force of her emotions. "I shall never be able to ask
his forgiveness for my hardness, and yet in my heart I was melted
towards him and longing to tell him so,--only waiting till the evening
when we could be more alone. Oh, I am terribly punished for daring to
punish my poor Jack!"
"We are not to give up hope, dearest, but are to will with might and
main that he be saved. It all helps. Honor Bright says it is
scientifically possible to impose will-power on the forces of nature. It
is a way God works for us and with us."
"It is useless to tell me all that when I cannot even think!" wailed
Kitty.
"But there is a great deal in heaven and earth that is not 'dreamt of in
our philosophy,'" Joyce repeated.
"Oh, my poor Jack!--Go, Joyce, and ask what is happening, now! I cannot
bear this stillness." For a sudden hush seemed to have fallen on the
company on deck.
At that moment, a distant cheer came from over the water. It was taken
up by those watching from the ship and loud "Hurrahs!" sounded again and
again.
"Oh, thank God!--he must be safe!" cried Joyce.
Kitty seemed to crumple up as she burst into a passion of tears.
Neither she nor Joyce had any idea that the rescue of Jack Darling was a
touch and go. He had gone overboard confident of being able to keep
afloat till he was picked up, and willing to accept his fate if it
worked out otherwise. Having, in his despair, become temporarily insane,
he was hardly accountable for his actions till his immersion in the
waves brought him rudely to his senses. After coming to the surface, he
looked about for the steamer, and was astounded to see it already so far
away that it seemed to him impossible for a boat's crew to descry him in
that heaving expanse of ocean. To add to his dismay, the vessel seemed
to steam on as though determined to leave him to his fate.
The prospect was horrible!
In a flash, he saw himself swimming till exhausted and a prey to sharks.
Life became all at once very dear. Whether with, or without Kitty, it
would be better to live, than to die this slow and lonely death! He had
been nothing but a damned idiot to have allowed himself to be dragged
into such a dangerous piece of melodrama, and all for nothing! With a
little patience and perseverance he might have gained his end without
all this miserable fuss! No abuse was strong enough for his folly.
At that moment he espied the life-buoy, which he was fearing he would
never find, and eagerly scrambled into it. Ah, that was better! Though
he could swim like a fish, there was no doubt about it that he was
grateful for support in the restless waters. Sometimes he was on the top
of a wave where he was able to see the far distant ship; then, with a
smart buffeting, he would find himself at the bottom of a trough with,
what looked like green mountains of water threatening to engulf him.
It was an immense relief to his mind when it became apparent that the
vessel was steaming back on her course, and the sight of the boat being
lowered gave him new life and confidence.
But before it could reach him, symptoms of cramp in one leg had set
in--possibly, because of late he had entirely neglected his exercises.
The first twinge scared him mightily. If it should increase, he would be
doubled up in the water and, in spite of the buoy, go down like a stone.
The prospect racked him with suspense. The cramp again seized him with
demoniacal violence and a red-hot band seemed to tighten round about his
limb....
Was it cramp, or the jaws of a shark?
Petrifying thought!
If ever he had been punished in his life for folly, he was being
punished now!
He glanced wildly over his shoulder, then at the advancing boat. He
tried to call aloud, but his voice was choked with spray. The pain
intensified. It seemed to rise into his thigh and the leg felt wrenched
from its socket. Surely this was the end? A shark----?
Jack remembered no more. He had fainted with the pain of severe cramp
combined with the shock of terror. He had never been wanting in courage,
but physical agony, and the notion of falling a prey to sharks before he
had time to show fight, had caused him to swoon.
And it was at that moment that the boat reached him, and eager hands
snatched him into safety.
Before the boat reached the ship he had recovered, and after a stiff
dose of brandy, was able to take an interest in his rescue.
"I could have sworn a shark had got me," he explained. "The pain was so
excruciating."
"In the water, cramp is the very devil!" said the third officer.
It was a shamed and chastened young man who disappeared into his cabin,
amid hearty congratulations, to change into dry garments. In the face of
so much honest relief and thankfulness, he felt a very worm for his
deceit and trickery. It had been a mean game--a dirty trick he had
played everybody, and Kitty in particular; which might easily have cost
him his life. Truly, he had come to the conclusion that he was not fit
to aspire to any nice girl. Kitty was properly fastidious, and she was
not to be blamed for having recoiled from his unsavoury story, though it
had been the barest outline of his misdemeanours that he had given her.
All the same, it was hardly a yarn for the ears of even modern eighteen!
She being his promised wife, he had felt it due to her to reveal his
past--(lest others should do so!)--and he had no right to rebel against
her verdict, however blasting to his life and happiness--and so on, and
so forth.
In downright self-disgust he kept his cabin, pleading the effects of
cramp and exhaustion, and emerged only when it was dark, to drop into a
deck chair behind a windlass, and brood upon his sins, staring out upon
the moonlit sea.
Here Kitty came to him with healing, and here we take our leave of them
for the present, feeling perfectly sure that Jack was not likely to
damage his chances of reconciliation by any further confessions,--not
even concerning his latest and maddest adventure. Confession may be good
for the soul, but Jack had learned that there are circumstances when it
is better to be silent.