Bedford looked at her searchingly. For a moment he seemed on the point
of repeating Grizel's question, but he checked himself.
"You shan't be cross, and you shan't be sad, so long as I am here to
manage for you!" he said confidently, and Katrine, looking at his broad
shoulders and grave, purposeful face, felt with a thrill that no harm
could indeed approach while this strong man was near.
The dank breath of the fog increased with every moment, driving the
passengers into the brightly-lighted saloon, but to Katrine there was a
glorious exhilaration in the darkness and the solitude. She realised
that in time to come she would look back upon these moments, and
treasure them in her heart. When her only meetings with Bedford should
be in the crowded festivities of the little station, the isolation of
this hour in the fog would live enshrined in memory, to be recalled with
a passion of longing.
Silence fell, a silence caused not by poverty of thought, but by thought
so charged with import that it dared not risk expression. Katrine felt
with a certainty beyond argument that the longing of her own heart was
echoed throb for throb, ache for ache by the heart by her side; that
even as she desired with a passionate intensity to touch Bedford's hand,
and feel the embrace of his arms, so with an ever greater intensity did
he also yearn for her. Such convictions are above reason. They are the
language of the heart, which to sensitive souls is stronger than that of
the lips. As the silence lengthened so did the mental communion grow
and deepen, until with each second it appeared inevitable that speech
must follow. Already with a mutual impulse they had faced each other,
already the two hands had stretched out, when suddenly Bedford turned
his head, raising it high, with a gesture alert, questioning, the action
of a sentry, threatened with danger. Through the fog Katrine caught the
pose, and felt a sympathetic thrill of anxiety. She reared her own
head,--could it be fancy that her ear caught a new and unfamiliar sound?
She bent forward, her attitude following his. Tense and motionless
they peered into the darkness.
"_What is it_?"
Bedford's voice, sharp and vibrant, called out the words, then with a
deep cry he flung out his arms, and strained her to his heart.
"_Katrine! Katrine! The End_!"
She clung to him, every pulse in her body suspended in the awful grip of
fear, for suddenly, awfully, the menacing sound had taken shape; the
shape of a giant hulk which looming through the mist, staggered and
crashed, while the thunders of Olympus roared about their ears. Tongues
of flame followed the impact, the deck shook and reeled, and from a
thousand throats went up a shriek to Heaven. A helpless unit among the
number, Katrine stood and looked death in the face. The End indeed, but
through it all, the clasp of a strong man's arms!
Mercifully it is not to one man in ten thousand that there comes so
terrific an experience, and those who make the exception are as a rule
incapable of describing their sensations at the dread moment, for even
as a mortal wound deadens the physical sensations, so does an
overwhelming shock paralyse the mind. Consider it in cold blood, one
moment, ye who read, seated comfortably in your homes,--a mysterious
thunder crashing suddenly into ordered silence; the shivering reel of
what has stood as solid ground, but which in a lightning flash is
realised to be but a plank between safety and destruction. The heavens
have fallen; the earth has rocked; and on all sides tosses the hungry
sea... What wonder if, in its turn, the brain reels and loses power.
Katrine was conscious of nothing but an impulse to cling closer and
closer, a terror of being separated from Bedford by so much as a second.
If he were with her she could face what might come; without him madness
was near.
With a second shock, hardly less awesome than the first, the towering
mass fell back, and drifted into the fog; the deck shivered and heeled,
as the water rushed through the yawning gap.
"All on deck! All on deck!"
The order rang from the bridge, but it was not needed. Already every
soul on board the huge vessel was fleeing along the companionways and
corridors. If death threatened, at least let it be death in the open,
not the death of a rat in a trap! Ghastly and panting they reached the
deck; ghastly and panting, but with magnificent control, they stood and
waited the word of command from the figure on the bridge. Katrine
raised her head from Bedford's shoulder, and gazed into his face. The
stewards were pacing the deck, turning on the electric switches. There
was one near at hand which lit the two faces with a faint, unearthly
light. The blue eyes and the grey gazed into each other, deep, deep, as
they had done at the first moment of meeting, but now that gaze held a
deeper meaning, a world of revelation, a world of regret!
Katrine had only one desire; she voiced it with the simplicity of a
child:
"Stay with me! Don't go away!"
"Never!" he cried, and tightened his grasp. "Whatever happens we're
together, Katrine. You're mine. I'll keep you--"
"Lower the boats!"
The order rang out, short and sharp. The stewards were handing round
lifebelts. In the brightly-lighted saloons the women were being ranged
together. A hand gripped Katrine's arm, and Mrs Mannering's voice rang
out, calm and controlled:
"Miss Beverley! That's good. I've been searching for you. Come, my
lass, come with me! They are collecting the women in the saloon to be
ready for the boats. We must do what we can to help. It's not the
first shipwreck I've been in, and here I am, safe and sound. We'll be
all right yet, but we must do our share. Come! take my arm."
Katrine lifted a set face.
"I'm not going. Don't tease me, please--there's so little time. Leave
us alone."
Over her head the two exchanged rapid glances. Bedford nodded, a quick
stern nod, with a glance in the direction of the boat; the woman nodded
back, comprehending his message. She was bareheaded, cloakless as she
had rushed out of the saloon a moment before; now with characteristic
coolness she glanced around, and made a second announcement:
"There's time yet. I can get some clothes and usefuls. You will stay
here? Exactly here, so that I may know where to find you? There must
be no chance of missing!"
Bedford nodded again, and she hastened away. Prom above sounded the
rattle of the wireless, as it sent forth its message of distress.
Leaning against the rail stood a youthful officer, little more than a
boy. His face was set, but his pose was the acme of careless ease. He
had taken from his pocket a silver case, and from time to time he lifted
an unlighted cigarette to his lips, with a pathetic pretence of
enjoyment. Bedford bent his head until it rested on Katrine's hair.
"Katrine!"
She moved, so that her cheek took the place of her hair. There was
unspeakable comfort in the soft, cold touch of his flesh against her
own.
"Yes!"
"That's the wireless! They are sending messages for help. We are in
the direct channel. It will certainly come. We must hope on."
Even as he spoke the deck shivered beneath his feet, and with a
sickening lurch, tilted heavily on one side. Bedford threw out one hand
and caught at the rail, holding Katrine firmly with the other. The
young officer, thrown on one side, fell back into his nonchalant pose,
and tremblingly lifted his cigarette, but his lips moved in an
involuntary despair.
"My God! _She's going_--"
Katrine caught the gasping words, and looked death in the face. It was
coming. At any moment that shuddering lurch might come again, and the
deck glide down into the sea. This man said so, and he _knew_. For the
sake of example he preserved an appearance of composure, but he
understood, and he despaired. With a sob of emotion she lifted her face
to Bedford's, and their lips met in a long, clinging kiss. It mattered
nothing that there were people around, that the flaring lights lit up
their forms; they were lost to every thought but of themselves and their
love. Above the fear, above the terror, there clamoured in Katrine's
heart a desperate need of expression. All her life she had been dumb;
she could not die without putting in words the one transcendent fact.
"_I love you_!" she cried. "Do you hear? Do you understand? If I must
die, let me die in your arms. I tried ... but it was no use--I love
_you_! There is nobody else--I belong to you!"
"My Katrine!" he cried trembling. "My girl--"
Prom above, the wonderful invisible machinery rattled and cracked; the
first boat swung low from the davits was already being loaded with its
complement of shrinking, trembling women. The flare of lights lit up
their ashen faces turned up to the deck above as they floated,
wraith-like, into the mist. A second boat creaked on the ropes and Mrs
Mannering's hand gripped Bedford's arm.
"Now! Bring her along!"
Katrine resisted, but the strong arms bore her along until she stood
ranged among the line of waiting women. Nothing but force should induce
her to enter a boat alone, but she had not the physical strength to
retain her position against the will of her companions.
Mrs Mannering had tied a shawl round her head. The pockets of her coat
were filled to the point of bursting. She carried a bundle of small
articles, which she proceeded to stuff into the pockets of Katrine's
cloak. A steward came up and fastened a lifebelt round her waist.
Bedford took a second from his arm and himself fastened it round
Katrine. She laid her cold fingers on his, drawing him back.
"You are going to send me away?"
He bent and laid his lips to her hand, but he went on fastening the
straps. There was a relentlessness in his movements which struck ice to
Katrine's soul.
"You will send me away, and let me die alone?"
At that he winced, but still he continued his task.
"You must go first, beloved. If God wills, I'll follow. The women must
go first."
Katrine laughed; a wild reckless laugh more terrible than tears.
"Why? Why? Because of a sentiment, a convention? Better save the men!
They are the bread-winners, the heads of households. Save the lives
that count, and let us drown. There are women enough--too many. We
should not be missed. I have had no choice in life, but my death is my
own. I will not go! I will stay with you."
Mrs Mannering's practical, commonplace voice struck sharply upon her
ears.
"My good girl," she cried. "You have not to think of yourself at this
moment. You are not the only woman who would rather stay behind. Look
at those poor souls over there who have to leave husbands and sons! Is
it easier for them, or for you? There's only one thing to be done--obey
orders, and do your bit towards smoothing the way. When your turn
comes, you've _got_ to go, and I'll see to it that you _do_!"
She squared her shoulders, and stationed herself grim and relentless by
Katrine's side. In the lurid light her face looked lined, and
incredibly old, but she carried herself bravely, and showed not a quiver
of fear.
Along the deck the band had marshalled, and the strains of a popular
waltz floated with horrible gaiety on the air. Not a note fell flat, or
out of time; stalwart and erect in their smart uniform, the men stood
and played, and the conductor waved his baton as composedly as if they
had been surrounded by a throng of merry dancers, instead of men and
women threatened by instant death. Prom within the brightly-lighted
smoking-room a man could be seen writing a letter. A few feet away a
woman was playing bo-peep with a frightened child. Gradually, as
Katrine stood waiting, her fear subsided, and there stole into her soul
a mysterious courage and calm. Strung to its highest sensibilities the
spirit within her absorbed the atmosphere by which it was surrounded,
and nobly answered the call.
Imagine it! Dwell for one moment on the majesty of it--a crowd of men
and women, each one braced up to his highest, strongest self; to a
_selfless_ self, stifling, for the sake of others, all signs of
distress, obeying the ordinary conventions of society, giving place, the
stronger to the weaker, with a smile and bow, as if that matter of
preference were some society trifle, not a matter of bald life and
death.
As surely as the music floated from the mouth of those brazen
instruments, as the light streamed from the electric arch overhead, so
surely did the spiritual influence of those brave deeds spread over the
ship, and touch with fire every human heart.
Into Katrine's soul in its turn stole some portion of this noble
fortitude; she ceased to struggle, and stood silently by Bedford's side
awaiting her call. The women filed slowly by, were lifted one by one
and swung into the boat. Suddenly Bedford turned towards her, grasping
both hands. In his face she read that the parting had come.
"Katrine! Good-bye..."
Strong aims seized her, she was lifted high, dropped, and caught. There
came to, her aid a merciful unconsciousness...