Katrine lay dazed and senseless, a huddled mass in a corner of the boat,
mercifully oblivious of the perilous lowering down the great hull of the
ship, of the gradual leaving behind of all that was most dear. The
climax of emotion through which she had passed, had exhausted for the
time being all power of sensation. While not actually unconscious, her
mind was torpid. Nothing mattered, her very powers of fear were at an
end. What was past, was past, what would come, would come; nothing
mattered the cast of a die!
In the boat were women, dazed like herself, others again weeping and
lamenting; others, like Mrs Mannering, composed and brisk, showing at
their best, when those from whom more might have been expected proved
broken reeds.
It was all dream-like and unreal. Tossed on the waves in the crowded
boat, the great hull of the ship looked a rampart of strength. To have
left that stronghold to toss in this cockleshell--the dazed brain
marvelled feebly at such inconsistency. High on the deck a confused
mass of people moved to and fro, but their faces were indistinguishable,
and soon vanished from sight. The sounds of a voice shouting peremptory
orders mingled with the dashing of the waves, but soon that also became
inaudible, as the boat floated farther and farther away.
Katrine sat motionless, oblivious of all that was happening around. The
hood of her coat had fallen back from her head and her bleached face had
a fixed, almost terrible beauty. Nancy Mannering glanced at her
anxiously from time to time, and finally shook her strongly by the arm.
"Now! Brace up, Katrine!" cried the strong voice, "brace up! It don't
matter much what happens to you and to me, my dear. We are just women--
unattached women at that--there are too many of our sort knocking
around, but here's some one here who _does_ count--a little man for you
to cuddle and protect! Heaven knows the kind he'll grow up; he'll be
none the worse, any way, for remembering this night, and who knows! some
woman may fare the better for your pains. Here, sonny! stop that row.
Come to the pretty lady. She'll nurse you, and tell you tales."
A sturdy weight was deposited on Katrine's lap; in the dim light she
recognised the features of her former enemy, the redoubtable Jackey, all
drawn and wet with tears. Separated from his father, overcome by the
hopeless terror of childhood, he had lost his braggart airs, and
appeared just a pitiful baby thing, longing to be kissed and held. His
wet face nozzled into Katrine's breast, his little legs in the
ridiculous knickerbockers dangled limply over her knees, and the sight,
the touch, awoke her to life. She gathered the child in her arms and
crooned over him, and Jackey wreathed her neck with his arms, and
pressed wet kisses on her cheek! Presently, gathering confidence, he
began to question after the manner of childhood.
"How soon shall we be drowned? How much does it hurt to be drowned? As
much as a tooth? Will the water be cold? Would it be brave to scream?
Will you hold me tight, so that I can't leave go? Must we say our
prayers before we're drowned?"
"We are not going to be drowned, I hope, Jackey. By-and-bye a big boat
will come along and take us up, but you can say your prayers all the
same. Pray for your father on our own big ship, and, and--"
"And the parrot, and the goat, and all Thy dumb creatures," responded
Jackey, who was evidently not without religious instruction. He mumbled
petitions into Katrine's neck. "God bless and keep my dear father,
'serve him from danger, make him a good boy. Bless the parrot. Keep
Thy young goat. Let him be meek and gentle in spirit. Bless the man I
kicked, and mend his legs so he can swim when the boat goes down!"
"Oh, Jackey," sobbed Katrine wildly. "Oh, Jackey!" She strained the
little form in her arms, and buried her face in his curls. So far
children had not entered intimately into her life, and the maternal
instinct had remained dormant, as it does with many women until the time
arrives when their own child is laid in their arms, but now as Jackey's
soft, heavy little body nestled against her own, she realised with a new
poignancy the possibility of yet another joy, another opening of the
gates of life!
She rocked to and fro, murmuring soothing words, and Jackey cuddled
close, vigorously sucked his thumb, then uncorked his lips to ask
another question:
"Will the big ship come quick?"
"I hope so, Jackey! I think so."
"Will our own ship go down? If it goes down to the bottom of the sea,
will my Daddy be dead?"
He lifted his eyes to her face, big, innocent blue eyes, widened in
breathless anxiety. Katrine winced before them, tortured by the thought
that suffering could come so soon; that a babe like this should feel its
shaft.
"If my Daddy is dead, can I have his penknife for my own?"
No! Jackey did not realise. Thank God for that. The babe was a babe
still. Cradled in kind arms, comfortable and warm, he could dream his
little dream, build his airy castles unperturbed by the pain of others.
That one afternoon's experience had taught Katrine to be thankful for a
callousness which she would previously have condemned. Time enough for
Jackey and his kind to realise the nature of death!
"You shall have a knife, Jackey; the best that Bombay can produce. And
your Daddy, too, I hope. Couldn't you go to sleep now, dear? Put your
little thumb in your mouth, and shut your eyes, and pretend you are safe
in your bunk. I'll hold you fast."
Jackey was tired, and the suggestion appealed. He wriggled to and fro,
poked ruthlessly with elbows and knees, until he had fitted himself to
his entire satisfaction, burrowed his head beneath the lapel of
Katrine's coat, and relapsed into limp and weighty slumber. Katrine was
tired too; tired with a very extremity of fatigue, but not for worlds
would she have relinquished the weight of that burden.
Presently Mrs Mannering held a flask to her lips and she felt the hot
smart of brandy,--just one sip, and then the flask was withdrawn, for
Nancy Mannering was jealous of her stores, not knowing for how long they
might be needed. There were biscuits also in those capacious pockets,
bars of chocolate, and fruit taken from the saloon tables, but no adult
passenger in the boat was treated to these luxuries; they were reserved
for the embryo men and women of the future.
The boat drifted on, the men for the most part resting upon their oars.
It was not desired to float far from the ship, since the best hope of
rescue lay in keeping in her vicinity. The fog was slowly lightening,
and the flare of the electric lights showed a faint gold patch through
the grey. Katrine kept her eyes fixed on that patch. So long as it
continued, she could hold on to hope. If it died out, so would the
light fade from her own life...
Sitting huddled in her seat, Jackey's little form pillowed in her arm,
Katrine's thoughts reviewed her past life and marvelled at the
strangeness of it. Paced with the possibility of death, all the years
that were past counted for nothing as compared with the happening of a
few short days. Martin, Grizel, the friends and companions of her
youth--she repeated their names, and sought to visualise each
countenance in turn. In vain! the likenesses refused to appear; even
Martin's face was blurred, or was it that she had not enough patience,
enough interest, to spare for the effort? Bedford was the world; apart
from him she was incapable of a regret.
The boat drifted on. Now the sailors had turned her head and were
rowing slowly back towards the ship. The yellow blur still shone
through the fog. The men discussed together as to the amount of damage
that had been done, the possibility of keeping the hulk afloat. Nancy
Mannering turned and spoke into Katrine's ear:
"My dear, one word! ... You mayn't suspect it, but I've a heart--. In
a physical Sense, I mean, no sentiment; and it's a poor thing. I don't
expect to be drowned, but a little more of this excitement, and it may
play tricks. It's all one, I'm not whining, but if I _should_ pan out,
and you get through, will you just write to my boy? Tell him I asked
you, and that he is not to grieve. Bound to go somehow, some day, and,
why not now? I've no particular wish to live on here, but you can tell
him this--wherever I am, whatever comes next, there'll be no peace for
me unless _he_ keeps straight! That I _know_, and he'd better know it,
too." She was silent for some moments, during which Katrine heard the
quick intake of her breath, then: "And tell him," she added with
difficulty, "tell him I've always been an ostrich, hiding, not my head,
but my heart. Somehow I couldn't let it out, but," her voice deepened
to a full, rich note, "there's never been a moment of his life, since he
was born, when I wouldn't have been flayed--_slowly_! for his good!
Tell him his mother loved him more than her life."
"I'll tell him; I won't write. I'll travel the length of India, if need
be, to tell him myself," cried Katrine, deeply touched. To discover a
hidden weakness in her jaunty, self-sufficient companion was to feel
herself infused with new strength. She was needed, and the woman in her
rose to the? demand. She hitched Jackey on one side so as to free her
right arm, and fumbling in her companion's pocket found and extracted
the flask.
"Meantime, if you have no care for yourself, think of _him_, and be
careful for _his_ sake. What is the use of talking of love, if you
won't do even that for his sake? Be sensible for yourself as well as
for other people!"
"Mr Dick, your common-sense is invaluable!" Mrs Mannering drank,
smacked her lips, and grunted with satisfaction. "That's good! That's
better. I needed that." Then after a momentary pause. "Remember
though, _if I do_ come through, your work is to forget. No bringing up
of deathbed confidences! ... Anything in the same line that I can do
for yourself?"
"No," answered Katrine shortly. If the end came, Martin and Grizel
could console each other without help from her. And their figures were
misty. Even Jackey himself counted for more at this moment, embodying
as he did a great potential possibility of life. As for Jim Blair--ah!
let Jim hug his false dreams: let him never awake!
The hours dragged on. The children slept; some of the women slept also,
worn out by their fears. Katrine's cramped arms still held their
burden, but Nancy Mannering had turned herself round in her seat,
presenting her broad back as a support.
"Let yourself go, my dear; lean your weight on me. Nothing like a
support to your back. I was at the opera just before I sailed--six
shillings' worth of gallery, and never a rail at the back. Leaned back
against a young lad's knees, and he wriggled in seventeen fits.
Prudery, eh? Or perhaps I was too old. Well! Well!"
The voice had its old jaunty tone, but the language in which she spoke
was unintelligible. _Opera_! Katrine shrank at the sound. Face to
face with death, the trivial happenings of life retreated to an
illimitable distance. Was it possible that one had ever cared for such
baubles--had counted them among the goods of life!
At the stern of the boat a woman was praying aloud, while those around
joined in with tears and sobs. Katrine roused herself to listen, and
caught fervid confessions of sin and wrong-doing. Her thoughts turned
inward; she also ought to pray, to make confession. Drearily she asked
herself what she had done, and failed to discover a tangible offence.
Honestly she had endeavoured; honestly she had refrained. Looking back
over her life she could find no shrinking from duty, no unfair dealing,
no violation of a law. She had not "gone astray," she had not been
"vile and sinful altogether"; the woman's abasement of self-blame left
her untouched. The searchlight of conscience revealed sin indeed, but
not of commission. _Lack of level_--that was the flaw--of
whole-hearted, unselfish love which gave all and asked for no return;
love which could transform the commonest events, and make of duty a joy!
Grizel possessed that love; a spring of tenderness and sympathy, welling
within her heart. She had found it easy to live with a querulous old
woman. "She doesn't worry me: I _love_ her!" Katrine heard again the
tone of the deep, rich voice giving the simple explanation. She herself
had placed Martin before all created things, but there had been no
tenderness in her heart. With opened eyes she looked back on the
critical, exacting sentiment which she had called love, and found it
unworthy the name. Her arms tightened round the sleeping child. This
then was the secret of life. Love--"the fulfilment of the law." If
life were spared, it would be the motive spring for which she would
strive; given that, the rest would follow. The women at her side were
imploring for forgiveness, and comfort in death. Katrine prayed for
life. "More life: fuller life! _Fill my mean heart_--!"
Ten minutes later when the rescuing ship steamed into view the sight
which should have brought exhilaration broke down the most sternly-kept
composure. Men and women wept together, wept and laughed, and sobbed
and clung, even the most composed giving way to their emotion now that
the strain was at an end.
On she came, a stately form, summoned by the wondrous message of the
air, racing through the water to the noble work of rescue. Nearer and
nearer, until she was close at hand, and white faces looked down from
the crowded decks. The nightmare of removal from the boat was
accomplished in safety. Katrine felt her waist encircled by a tender
arm, and heard a woman's voice addressing her in tremulous tones. Her
cramped limbs could hardly move, she was half-led, half-carried into a
luxurious cabin, undressed, laid in a warm, fresh bed, fed with soup and
wine. The women who waited upon her shed tears as they worked, but she
herself was dry-eyed. She was thinking of that yellow glimmering light
through the fog, the light of the ship which held her world,--the ship
with a hole in her side...
But an hour later Nancy Mannering came to her bedside with a face
working with emotion, to tell glad news. The passengers of the injured
ship had been transferred to the C--, but the crew remained at their
posts, for the water-tight compartments were bravely doing their work,
and there was hope of keeping her afloat until Bombay Harbour could be
reached. Meantime the rescuing vessel had her in tow.
"Shut your eyes, my beauty, and sleep!" said Nancy Mannering gently.
"He's off to his bed. I've seen him, and touched him, and heard his
voice. He's a real live man and no ghost, as to-morrow morning you'll
see for yourself, and if you ever say good-bye to him again,--well! you
deserve all you may get.--Go to sleep, child, go to sleep, and thank the
good God!"
But the next morning Katrine did not get up. She was prostrate with
physical collapse, and there was no mental effort to spur her into
action. She did not want to meet Bedford. Now that safety was assured,
it was torture to remember her own words, and to realise that the first
confession of love had come from her own lips, not his. She welcomed
the weariness and pain which kept her a prisoner in the cabin; dreaded
the meeting which must inevitably come. The dread and the shame, the
excitement and the distress, increased her physical ailments; the doctor
was summoned, once and again, before the day was over, and other methods
failing prescribed a sleeping-draught to secure a night's rest before
landing. As a result Katrine slept heavily, but awoke to so crushing a
headache that movement appeared out of the question.
No matter, Nancy Mannering assured her. It would be hours before the
ship had disgorged her double complement of passengers, to say nothing
of the luggage. She was to lie still, recover slowly, go on shore
quietly later on when the fuss and racket were over. The captain had
sent a special message to assure her of his consideration and help. Two
other women were prostrate like herself. They also were to wait.
Katrine settled down again into a fitful sleep, through which the tramp
of feet, the clamour of voices, the banging of luggage, beat confusedly
upon her brain. From time to time Mrs Mannering crept in to look at
her, and stole out unnoticed; it was not until late in the afternoon,
when quiet reigned on the deck overhead, that she met opened eyes and a
smile of welcome.
"I'm dreadfully lazy! I'm afraid it's ever so late, but I can dress
quickly now for my head is better. Is--?"
She stopped short, flushing, but Mrs Mannering was intentionally
obtuse.
"Yes, all right! The poor old ship kept up to the end. They are
getting out the baggage. Pray heaven it is _dry_! in any case we'll be
thankful for what we can get. It looked as if we might not have a rag
to our backs. That good soul Anderson is looking after our part of the
spoil; Captain Bedford would have done it, but it was all he could do to
get through himself. Had to rush off to take up a company by the first
train. They've been kept waiting for him by this upset. However, our
rooms are booked at the hotel, and we can lie low for a few days till we
get our breath."
Katrine stared blankly. She had shrunk from the thought of meeting
Bedford, yet it came as a shock to hear that he had gone on and left her
behind. They had _all_ gone on,--the passengers among whom she had
lived so closely during those last weeks; but for Nancy Mannering she
was alone in the strange new world. It was a lonesome feeling. She sat
on the side of her bunk, smiling a difficult smile.
"Oh! Yes. That will be nice. And my friends have arranged for my
journey. The agent will call--"
"Be hanged to agents! I've sworn by all my gods to stick to you till I
see you safely landed with your friends. It's only a few score miles
out of my way, and that counts for nothing in this country. The good
Bedford will see me housed when we arrive."
"Scores of miles out of your way! For _me_? Mrs Mannering, it is too
much! I can't let you do it. You are the kindest, most unselfish of
creatures."
Mrs Mannering grimaced.
"Don't be too sure!" she said dryly. "Curiosity poses under many forms.
I've a weakness for being on in the last act. Well! dress yourself,
and come along, and be sure to speak prettily to the captain before you
leave. He's behaved like a brick. There's tea in the saloon."
By six o'clock Katrine and her chaperon were safely housed in the hotel,
appreciating as they had never done before the blessings of _terra
firma_. The next morning their baggage was restored to them,
practically undamaged, and what was to Katrine most important of all, a
letter arrived from Jim Blair.
She sat alone in her room holding the unopened envelope in her hand,
gaining courage for the ordeal of reading the loving words. Strange how
deep a hold this unknown man had taken of her affections! Bedford she
loved with the stored-up passion of her life, but even Bedford himself
had not been able to lessen her tenderness towards the man who had come
into her life at the moment when she needed him most, and brought solace
to her sore heart. It was cruelly hard to be obliged to bring pain and
disappointment to so generous a lover. She flinched and coloured at the
thought of her own conduct as viewed from the outside--just the weak,
commonplace story of the pretty girl who starts on a voyage which is to
bring her to a waiting lover, meets another man _en route_, and is false
to her tryst,--but it was typical of Katrine's conception of the
character of her unknown lover, that through all her troubled thoughts
the conviction remained that Jim would understand,--that however he
might suffer he would neither be bitter nor unjust.
She sighed, and bracing herself resolutely, tore open the envelope. The
blood rushed to her face as she read the opening words:
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"My Own Katrine,
"No! I am not breaking my truce. This little breathing space between
the sea voyage and the start up-country doesn't count in the scheme.
It's a No-man's land, of which this man would be a fool if he didn't
take possession forthwith!
"Besides, beloved, there are things that I want to say; things that
_need_ to be said... Your journey is nearly over, our meeting is close
at hand, and if the truth were known there's more fear than expectation
in your heart! I know you too well not to realise that--_but the fear
must go_! Get it out of your head once for all, little girl, that you
have anything to dread from me. I want you, I want you badly, but most
of all I want your happiness. That sounds the sort of thing one reads
in books--just a bit too lofty and impersonal to be true, but if you
come to worry it out, it's only a higher kind of selfishness. Once love
with your own heart and soul, love some one, that is to say, _more than
yourself_, and as the most obvious of consequences, happiness is
impossible for yourself unless it has first and foremost filled that
other heart. Don't worry yourself by any idea that you are pledged to
me, in honour bound, or any nonsense of the kind. You are _not_; you
are as free as air. If you should happen to like another man better
than me (you won't!) I'd help you to him. If you don't want me (you
will!) I'll stand aside. Dear little girl, be aisy! I'm on your side.
"That `mad' letter of yours was delicious sense. The veritable Katrine
revealed herself more therein than in any letter I have yet received.
And your little discourse on tenderness--that touched me! It is a
quality which, as you say, is wanting in the love of many men, and the
lack of it leaves a record on the faces of weary women. But, after all,
you know, the doing or undoing, whichever you choose to call it, is in
the main the fault of some other woman in the past! Why do mothers
spoil their boys instead of training them in the small domestic
kindnesses and attentions which will be so valuable later on? If I had
a son... upon my life I believe I'd spoil him too!
"Seriously though, Katrine, it must be pre-eminently tenderness which is
filling my heart today, for I _can_ imagine; I _can_ understand! I am
so sorry for you, poor, puzzled girl! Is that a good augury for the
future?
"I shall come in to see you at the Middleton bungalow the day you
arrive. No club meetings for me. Just an hour or two for rest and
refreshment, and then--enter Jim Blair! Poor little girl, are you
trembling in your shoes? If only I could convince you of my sincerity!
Was it for nothing, Katrine, that my heart went out to you across the
seas; was it for nothing that my cry touched your heart; was it for
nothing that after years of block and difficulty, the way was opened out
which brings you here to me? Go on in faith for one week longer!
"Jim Blair."
The letter fell from Katrine's hands and fluttered to the ground. She
hid her face in her hands.