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diff --git a/46600.txt b/46600.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fb45a38..0000000 --- a/46600.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11120 +0,0 @@ - BY THE WORLD FORGOT - - - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: By the World Forgot - A Double Romance of the East and West -Author: Cyrus Townsend Brady -Release Date: August 16, 2014 [EBook #46600] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BY THE WORLD FORGOT *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - - -[Illustration: "My God!" cried Beekman, staring into the white mist, -appalled by what he saw. Page 271] - - - - - By The World - Forgot - - A Double Romance of the East and West - - - By CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY - - - - With Frontispiece - By CLARENCE F. UNDERWOOD - - - - A. L. BURT COMPANY - Publishers New York - - Published by arrangement with A. C. McCLURG & COMPANY - - - - - Copyright - A. C. McClurg & Co. - 1917 - - Published September, 1917 - - _Copyrighted in Great Britain_ - - - - - TO - MY GOOD FRIEND AND KINSMAN - - JOHN F. BARRETT - - - - - *CONTENTS* - - BOOK I - - "_Ship me somewheres east of Suez_" - -CHAPTER - -I A Clash of Wills and Hearts -II The Stubbornness of Stephanie -III Bill Woywod to the Rescue -IV A Bachelor's Dinner and Its Ending -V The Wedding That Was Not -VI Stephanie Is Glad After All -VII Up Against It Hard -VIII The Anvil Must Take the Pounding -IX The Game and the End -X The Mystery of the Last Words -XI The Triangle Becomes a Quadrilateral - - BOOK II - - "_An' they talks a lot o' lovin', - But wot do they understand?_" - -XII The Hardest of Confessions -XIII The Search Determined Upon -XIV The Boatswain's Story - - BOOK III - - "_Where there aren't no Ten Commandments_" - -XV The Spirit of the Island -XVI The Speech of His Forefathers -XVII The House That Was Taboo -XVIII Moonlight Midnight Madness -XIX The Kiss That Was Different -XX The Message of the Past -XXI The Watcher on the Rocks -XXII Twice Saved by Truda -XXIII Truda Comes to His Prison -XXIV "So Farre, So Fast the Eygre Drave" -XXV The Indomitable Ego - - BOOK IV - - "_I've a neater, sweeter maiden, - In a cleaner, greener land_" - -XXVI In Danger All -XXVII The Speechless Castaways -XXVIII They Comfort Each Other -XXIX The Island Haven -XXX Revelations and Withholdings -XXXI Vi et Armis - - - - - *BOOK I* - - *"*_*Ship me somewheres east of Suez*_*"* - - - - *BY THE WORLD FORGOT* - - - - *CHAPTER I* - - *A CLASH OF WILLS AND HEARTS* - - -"For the last time, will you marry me?" - -"No." - -"But you don't love him." - -"No." - -"And you do love me?" - -"Yes." - -"I don't believe it." - -"Would I be here if I did not?" - -Now that adverb was rather indefinite. "Here" might have meant the -private office, which was bad enough, or his arms, which was worse or -better, depending upon the view-point. She could think of nothing -better to dispel the reasonable incredulity of the man than to nestle -closer to him, if that were possible, and kiss him. It was not a -perfunctory kiss, either. It meant something to the woman, and she made -it mean something to the man. Indeed, there was fire and passion enough -in it to have quickened a pulse in a stone image. It answered its -purpose in one way. There could be no real doubt in the man's mind as -to the genuineness of that love he had just called in question in his -pique at her refusal. The kiss thrilled him with its fervor, but it -left him more miserable than ever. It did not plunge him immediately -into that condition, however, for he drew her closer to his breast -again, and as the struck flint flashes fire he gave her back all that -she had given him, and more. - -Ordinarily in moments like that it is the woman who first breaks away, -but the solution of touch was brought about by the man. He set the girl -down somewhat roughly in the chair behind the big desk before which they -were standing and turned away. She suffered him thus to dispose of her -without explanation. Indeed, she divined the reason which presently -came to his lips as he walked up and down the big room, hands in -pockets, his brows knitted, a dark frown on his face. - -"I can't stand any more of that just now," he said, referring to her -caress; "if ever in my life I wanted to think clearly it is now and with -you in my arms--Say, for the very last time, will you marry me?" - -"I cannot." - -"You mean you will not." - -"Put it that way if you must. It amounts to the same thing." - -"Why can't you, or won't you, then?" - -"I've told you a thousand times." - -"Assume that I don't know and tell me again." - -"What's the use?" - -"Well, it gives me another chance to show you how foolish you are, to -overrule every absurd argument that you can put forth--" - -"Except two." - -"What are they?" - -"My father and myself." - -"Exactly. You have inherited a full measure, excuse me, of his infernal -obstinacy." - -"Most people call it invincible determination." - -"It doesn't make any difference what it's called, it amounts to the same -thing." - -"I suppose I have." - -"Now look at the thing plainly from a practical point of view." - -"Is there anything practical in romance, in love, in passions like -ours?" - -"There is something practical in everything I do and especially in this. -I've gone over the thing a thousand times. I'll go over it again once -more. You don't love the man you have promised to marry; you do love -me. Furthermore, he doesn't love you and I do--Oh, he has a certain -affection for you, I'll admit. Nobody could help that, and it's -probably growing, too. I suppose in time he will--" - -"Love me as you do?" - -"Never; no one could do that, but as much as he could love any one. But -that isn't the point. For a quixotic scruple, a mistaken idea of honor, -an utterly unwarranted conception of a daughter's duty, you are going to -marry a man you don't and can't love and--" - -"You are very positive. How do you know I can't?" - -"I know you love me and I know that a girl like you can't change any -more than I can." - -"That's the truth," answered the girl with a finality which bespoke -extreme youth, and shut off any further discussion of that phase. - -"Well, then, you'll be unhappy, I'll be unhappy, and he'll be unhappy." - -"I can make him happy." - -"No, you can't. If he learns to love you he will miss what I would -enjoy. He'll find out the truth and be miserable." - -"Your solicitude for his happiness--" - -"Nonsense. I tell you I can't bear to give you up, and I won't. I -shouldn't be asked to. You made me love you; I didn't intend to." - -"It wasn't a difficult task," said the girl smiling faintly for the -first time. - -"Task? It was no task at all. The first time I saw you I loved you, -and now you have lifted me up to heaven only to dash me down to hell." - -"Strong language." - -"Not strong enough. Seriously, I can't, I won't let you do it." - -"You must. I have to. You don't understand. His father gave my father -his first start in life." - -"Yes, and your father could buy his father twenty times over." - -"Perhaps he could, but that doesn't count. Our two fathers have been -friends ever since my father came here, a boy without money or friends -or anything, to make his fortune, and he made it." - -"I wish to God he hadn't and you were as poor as I was when I landed -here six years ago. If I could just have you without your millions on -any terms I should be happy. It's those millions that come between us." - -"Yes, that's so," admitted the girl, recognizing that the man only spoke -the truth. "If I were poor it would be quite different. You see -father's got pretty much everything out of life that money could buy. -He has no ancestry to speak of but he's as proud as a peacock. The -friendship between the two families has been maintained. The two old -men determined upon this alliance as soon as I was born. My father's -heart is set upon it. He has never crossed me in anything. He has been -the kindest and most indulgent of men. Next to you I worship him. It -would break his heart if I should back out now. Indeed, he is so set -upon it that I am sure he would never consent to my marrying you or -anybody else. He would disinherit me." - -"Let him, let him. I've the best prospects of any broker in New York, -and I've already got enough money for us to live on comfortably." - -"I gave my word openly, freely," answered the girl. "I wasn't in love -with any one then and I liked him as well as any man I had ever met. -Now that his father has died, my father is doubly set upon it. I simply -must go through with it." - -"And as your father sacrificed pretty much everything to build the -family fortune, so you are going to sacrifice yourself to add position -to it." - -"Now that is unworthy of you," said the girl earnestly. "That motive may -be my father's but it isn't mine." - -"Forgive me," said the man, who knew that the girl spoke even less than -the truth. - -"I can understand how you feel because I feel desperate myself; but -honor, devotion, obedience to a living man, promise to a dead man, his -father, who was as fond of me as if I had already been his daughter, all -constrain me." - -"They don't constrain me," said the man desperately, coming to the -opposite side of the big desk and smiting it heavily with his hand. -"All that weighs nothing with me. I have a mind to pick you up now and -carry you away bodily." - -"I wish you could," responded the girl with so much honest simplicity -that his heart leaped at the idea, "but you could never get further than -the elevator, or, if you went down the stairs, than the street, because -my honor would compel me to struggle and protest." - -"You wouldn't do that." - -"I would. I would have to. For if I didn't there would be no -submitting to _force majeure_. No, my dear boy, it is quite hopeless." - -"It isn't. For the last time, will you marry me?" - -"As I have answered that appeal a hundred times in the last six months, -I cannot." - -"Are there any conditions under which you could?" - -"Two." - -"What are they?" - -"What is the use of talking about them? They cannot occur." - -"Nevertheless tell me what they are. I've got everything I've ever gone -after heretofore. I've got some of your father's perseverance." - -"You called it obstinacy a while ago." - -"Well, it's perseverance in me. What are your conditions?" - -"The consent of two people." - -"And who are they?" - -"My father and my fiance." - -"I have your own, of course." - -"Yes, and you have my heartiest prayer that you may get both. Oh," she -went on, throwing up her hands. "I don't think I can stand any more of -this. I know what I must do and you must not urge me. These scenes are -too much for me." - -"Why did you come here, then?" asked the man. "You know I can't be in -your presence without appealing to you." - -"To show you this," said the girl, drawing a yellow telegram slip from -her bag which she had thrown on the desk. - -"Is it from him? I had one, too," answered the man, picking it up. - -"Of course," said the girl, "since you and he are partners in business. -I never thought of that. I should not have come." - -"Heaven bless you for having done so. Every moment that I see you makes -me more determined. If I could see you all the time and--" - -"He'll be here in a month," interrupted the girl. "He wants the wedding -to take place immediately and so do I." - -"Why this indecent haste?" - -"It has been a year since the first postponement and--Oh, what must be -must be! I want to get it over and be done with it. I can't stand -these scenes any more than you can. Look at me." - -The man did more than look. The sight of the piteous appealing figure -was more than he could stand. He took her in his arms again. - -"I wish to God he had drowned in the South Seas," he said savagely. - -"Oh, don't say that. He's your best friend," interposed the girl, -laying her hand upon his lips. - -"But you are the woman I love, and no friendship shall come between us." - -The girl shook her head and drew herself away. - -"I must go now. I really can't endure this any longer." - -"Very well," said the man, turning to get his hat. - -"No," said the girl, "you mustn't come with me." - -"As you will," said the other, "but hear me. That wedding is set for -thirty days from today?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, I'll not give you up until you are actually married to him. I'll -find some way to stop it, to gain time, to break it off. I swear you -shan't marry him if I have to commit murder." - -She thought he spoke with the pardonable exaggeration of a lover. She -shook her head and bit her lip to keep back the tears. - -"Good-bye," she said. "It is no use. We can't help it." - -She was gone. But the man was not jesting. He was in a state to -conceive anything and to attempt to carry out the wildest and most -extravagant proposition. He sat down at his desk to think it over, -having told his clerks in the outer office that he was not to be -disturbed by any one for any cause. - - - - - *CHAPTER II* - - *THE STUBBORNNESS OF STEPHANIE* - - -At one point of the triangle stands the beautiful Stephanie Maynard; at -another, George Harnash, able and energetic; at the third, Derrick -Beekman, who was a dilettante in life. George Harnash is something of a -villain, although he does not end as the wicked usually do. Derrick -Beekman is the hero, although he does not begin as heroes are expected -to do. Stephanie Maynard is just a woman, heroine or not, as shall be -determined. Before long the triangle will be expanded into a square by -the addition of another woman, also with some decided qualifications for -a heroine; but she comes later, not too late, however, to play a -deciding part in the double love story into which we are to be plunged. - -Of that more anon, as the sixteenth century would put it; and indeed -this story of today reaches back into that bygone period for one of its -origins. Romance began--where? when? All romances began in the Garden -of Eden, but it needs not to trace the development of this one through -all the centuries intervening between that period and today. This story, -if not its romance, began with an arrangement. The arrangement was -entered into between Derrick Beekman senior, since deceased, and John -Maynard, still very much alive. - -Maynard was a new man in New York, a new man on the street. He was the -head of the great Inter-Oceanic Trading Company. The Maynard House flag -floated over every sea from the mast heads, or jack staffs, of the -Maynard ships. Almost as widely known as the house flag was the Maynard -daughter. The house flag was simple but beautiful; the daughter was -beautiful but by no means simple. She was a highly specialized product -of the nineteenth century. Being the only child of much money, she was -everything outwardly and visibly that her father desired her to be, and -to make her that he had planned carefully and spent lavishly. With her -father's undeniable money and her own undisputed beauty she was a great -figure in New York society from the beginning. - -No one could have so much of both the desirable attributes -mentioned--beauty and money--and go unspoiled in New York--certainly not -until age had tempered youth. But Stephanie Maynard was rather an -unusual girl. Many of her good qualities were latent but they were -there. It was not so much those hidden good qualities but the dazzling -outward and visible characteristics that had attracted the attention of -old Derrick Beekman. - -Beekman had everything that Maynard had not and some few things that -Maynard had--in a small measure, at least. For instance, he was a rich -man, although his riches could only be spoken of modestly beside -Maynard's vast wealth. - -But Beekman added to a comfortable fortune an unquestioned social -position; old, established, assured. Those who would fain make game of -him behind his back--such a thing was scarcely possible to his -face--used to say that he traced his descent to every Dutchman that ever -rallied around one-legged, obstinate, Peter Stuyvesant and his -predecessors. The social approval of the Beekmans--originally, of -course, Van Beeckman--was like a _lettre de cachet_. It immediately -imprisoned one in the tightest and most exclusive circle of New York, -the social bastille from which the fortunate captive is rarely ever big -enough to wish to break out. - -Beekman's pride in his ancestry was only matched by his ambitions for -his son, like Stephanie Maynard, an only child. If to the position and, -as he fancied, the brains of the Beekmans could be allied the fortune -and the business acumen of the Maynards, the world itself would be at -the feet of the result of such a union. Now Maynard's money bought him -most things he wanted but it had not bought and could not buy Beekman -and that for which he stood. Maynard's beautiful daughter had to be -thrown into the scales. - -Maynard had no ancestry in particular. Self-made men usually laugh at -the claims of long descent, but secretly they feel differently. Being -the Rudolph of Hapsburg of the family is more of a pose or a boast than -not. I doubt not that even the great Corsican felt that in his secret -heart which he revealed to no one. Maynard's patent of nobility might -date from his first battle on the stock exchange, his financial -Montenotte, but in his heart of hearts he would rather it had its origin -in some old and musty parchment of the past. - -Beekman, who was much older than Maynard, had actually helped that young -man when he first started out to encounter the world and the flesh and -the devil in New York and to beat them down or bring them to heel. A -friendship, purely business at first, largely patronizing in the -beginning on the one hand, deferentially grateful on the other, had -grown up between the somewhat ill-sorted pair. And it had not been -broken with passing years. - -Maynard, unfortunately for his social aspirations, had married before he -had become great. Many men achieve greatness only to find a premature -partner an encumbrance to a career. However, Maynard's wife, another -social nobody with little but beauty to recommend her, had done her best -for her husband by dying before she was either a drag or a help to his -fortunes. The two men, each actuated by different motives, which, -however, tended to the same end, had arranged the match between the last -Beekman and the first Maynard; and that each secretly fancied himself -condescending to the other did not stand in the way. The young people -had agreeably fallen in with the proposals of the elders, neither of -whom was accustomed to be balked or questioned--for old Beekman was as -much of an autocrat as Maynard. Filial obedience was indeed a tradition -in the Beekman family. There were no traditions at all in the Maynard -family, but the same custom obtained with regard to Stephanie. - -Young Beekman was good looking, athletic, prominent in society, a -graduate of the best university, popular, and generally considered able, -although he had accomplished little, having no stimulus thereto, by -which to justify that public opinion. He went everywhere, belonged to -the best clubs, and was a most eligible suitor. He danced divinely, -conversed amusingly, made love gallantly if somewhat perfunctorily, -having had abundant practice in all pursuits. For the rest, what little -business he transacted was as a broker and business partner of George -Harnash, who, for their common good, made the most of the connections to -which Beekman could introduce him. - -Beekman, who had taken life lightly, indeed, at once recognized the -wisdom of his father's rather forcible suggestion that it was time for -him to settle down. He saw how the Maynard millions would enhance his -social prestige, and if he should be moved to undertake business affairs -seriously, as Harnash often urged, would offer a substantial background -for his operations. - -Stephanie Maynard was beautiful enough to please any man. She was well -enough educated and well enough trained for the most fastidious of the -fastidious Beekmans. In any real respect she was a fit match for -Derrick Beekman, indeed for anybody. There was no society into which -she would be introduced that she would not grace. - -From a feeling of condescension quite in keeping with his blood young -Beekman was rapidly growing more interested in and more fond of his -promised wife. Her feelings probably would have developed along the -same lines had it not been for George Harnash. He was Beekman's best -friend. They had been classmates and roommates at college. Harnash like -Beekman was a broker. Indeed the firm of Beekman & Harnash was already -well spoken of on the street, especially on account of the ability of -the junior partner, who was everywhere regarded as a young man with a -brilliant future. - -Now Harnash hung, as it were, like Mohammed's coffin, 'twixt heaven and -earth. He was not socially assured and unexceptionable as Beekman, but -he was much more so than the Maynards. He did not begin with even the -modest wealth of the former, but he was rapidly acquiring a fortune and, -what is better, winning the respect and admiration of friends and -enemies alike by his bold and successful operations. It was generally -recognized that Harnash was the more active of the two young partners. -Beekman had put in most of the capital, having inherited a reasonable -sum from his mother and much more from his father, but Harnash was the -guiding spirit of the firm's transactions. - -Harnash, who was the exact opposite of Beekman, as fair as the other man -was dark, fell wildly in love with Stephanie Maynard. To do him -justice, this plunge occurred before definite matrimonial arrangements -between the houses of Beekman and Maynard had been entered into. -Harnash had not contemplated such a possibility. The two friends were -in exceedingly confidential relationship to each other, and Beekman had -manifested only a most casual interest in Stephanie Maynard. Harnash, -seeing the present hopelessness of his passion, had concealed it from -Beekman. Therefore, the announcement casually made by his friend and -confirmed the day after by the society papers overwhelmed him. - -To do him justice further, while it could not be said that Harnash was -oblivious to the fact that the woman he loved was her father's daughter, -he would have loved her if she had been a nobody. While he could not be -indifferent to the further fact that whoever won her would ultimately -command the Maynard millions, George Harnash was so confident of his own -ability to succeed that he would have preferred to make his own way and -have his wife dependent upon him for everything. However, he was too -level headed a New Yorker not to realize that even if he could achieve -his ambition the Maynard millions would come in handy. - -The thing that made it so hard for Harnash to bear the new situation was -the carelessness with which Beekman entered into it. He felt that if -the marriage could be prevented it would not materially interfere with -the happiness of his friend. Harnash had deliberately set himself to -the acquirement of everything he desired. Honorably, lawfully, if he -could he would get what he wanted, but get it he would. He found that -he had never wanted anything so much as he wanted Stephanie Maynard. -Money and position had been his ambitions, but these gave place to a -woman. He did not arrive at a determination to take Stephanie Maynard -from Derrick Beekman, if he could, without great searchings of heart, -but the more he thought about it, the longer he contemplated the -possibility of the marriage of the woman he loved to the man he also -loved, the more impossible grew the situation. - -At first he had put all thought of self out of his mind, or had -determined so to do, in order to accept the situation, but he made the -mistake of continuing to see Stephanie during the process and when he -discovered that she was not indifferent to him he hesitated, wavered, -fell. By fair means or foul the engagement must be broken. It could -only be accomplished by getting Derrick Beekman out of the way. After -that he would wring a consent out of Maynard. To that decision the girl -had unconsciously contributed by laying down conditions which, by a -curious mental twist, the man felt in honor bound to meet. - -Both the elder Beekman and John Maynard were men of firmness and -decision. Wedding preparations had gone on apace. The invitations were -all but out when Beekman was gathered to his ancestors--there could be -no heaven for him where they were not--after an apoplectic stroke. This -postponed the wedding and gave George Harnash more time. Now Derrick -Beekman had devotedly loved his stern, proud old father, the only near -relative he had in the world. He decided to spend the time intervening -between that father's sudden and shocking death and his marriage on a -yachting cruise to the South Seas. It was characteristic of his feeling -for Stephanie Maynard that he had not hesitated to leave her for that -long period. The field was thus left entirely to Harnash. - -The Maynard-Beekman engagement, of course, had been made public, and -Stephanie's other suitors had accepted the situation, but not Harnash. -He was a man of great power and persuasiveness and ability and he made -love with the same desperate, concentrated energy that he played the -business game. He was quite frank about it. He told Stephanie that if -she or Beekman or both of them had shown any passion for the other, such -as he felt for her, he would have considered himself in honor bound to -eliminate himself, but since it would obviously be _un mariage de -convenance_, since both the parties thereto would enter into it lightly -and unadvisedly, he was determined to interpose. And there was even in -the girl's eyes abundant justification for his action. - -No woman wants to be taken as a matter of course. Stephanie Maynard had -been widely wooed, more or less all over the world. Although she did -not care especially for Derrick Beekman, she resented his somewhat -cavalier attitude toward her, and his witty, amusing, but by no means -passionately devoted letters, somewhat infrequent, too. Harnash made -great progress, yet he came short of complete success. - -The Maynards were nobodies socially, that is, their ancestors had been, -and they had not yet broken into the most exclusive set, the famous -hundred and fifty of New York's best, as they styled themselves to the -great amusement of the remaining five million or so, but they came, -after all, of a stock possessed of substantial virtues. Stephanie's -father was accustomed to boast that his word was his bond, and, unlike -many who say that, it really was. People got to know that when old John -Maynard said a thing he could be depended upon. If he gave a promise he -would keep it even if he ruined himself in the keeping, and his -daughter, in that degree, was not unlike him. - -Almost a year after his father's death Derrick Beekman sent cablegrams -from Honolulu saying he was coming back, and George Harnash and -Stephanie awoke from their dream. - -"I love you," repeated Stephanie to Harnash in another of the many, not -to say continuous, discussions they held after that day at the office. -"You can't have any doubt about that, but my word has been passed. I -don't dislike Derrick, either. But I'd give anything on earth if I were -free." - -"And when you were free?" - -"You know that I'd marry you in a minute." - -"Even if your father forbade?" - -"I don't believe he would." - -"If he did we would win him over." - -"You might as well try to win over a granite mountain. But there's no -use talking, I'm not free." - -"It's this foolish pride of yours." - -"Foolish it may be. I've heard so much about the Beekman word of honor -and the Beekman faith that I want to show that the Maynard honor and -faith and determination are no less." - -"And you are going to sacrifice yourself and me for that shibboleth, are -you?" - -"I see no other way. Believe me," said the girl, who had resolved to -allow no more demonstrations of affection now that it was all settled -and her prospective husband was on the way to her, "I seem cold and -indifferent to you, but if I let myself go--" - -"Oh, Stephanie, please let yourself go again, even if for the last -time," pleaded George Harnash, and Stephanie did. When coherent speech -was possible he continued: "Well, if Beekman himself releases you or if -he withdrew or disappeared or--" - -"I don't have to tell you what my answer would be." - -"And I've got to be best man at the wedding! I've got to stand by -and--" - -"Why didn't you speak before?" asked the girl bitterly. - -"I was no match for you then. I'm not a match for you now." - -"You should have let me be the judge of that." - -"But your father?" - -"I tell you if I hadn't promised, all the fathers on earth wouldn't make -any difference. Now we have lived in a fool's paradise for a year. -You're Derrick's friend and you're mine." - -"Only your friend?" - -"Do I have to tell you again how much I love you? But that must stop -now. It should have stopped long ago. You can't come here any more -except as Derrick's friend." - -"I can't come here at all, then." - -"No, I suppose not. And that will be best. Let us put this behind us -as a dream of happiness which we will never forget, but from which we -awake to find it only a dream." - -"It's no dream to me. I will never give you up. I will never cease to -try to make it a reality until you are bound to the other man." - -They were standing close together as it was, but he took the step that -brought him to her side and he swept her to his heart without resistance -on her part. She would give her hand to Derrick Beekman, but her heart -she could not give, for that was in George Harnash's possession, and -when he clasped her in his arms and kissed her, she suffered him. She -kissed him back. Her own arms drew him closer. It was a passionate -farewell, a burial service for a love that could not go further. It was -she who pushed him from her. - -"I will never give you up, never," he repeated. "Great as is my regard -for Beekman, sometimes I think that I'll kill him at the very foot of -the altar to have you." - -Stephanie's iron control gave way. She burst into tears, and George -Harnash could say nothing to comfort her, but only gritted his teeth as -he tore himself away, revolving all sorts of plans to accomplish his own -desires. - -To him came, with Mephistophelian appositeness, Mr. Bill Woywod. - - - - - *CHAPTER III* - - *BILL WOYWOD TO THE RESCUE* - - -The three weeks that followed were more fraught with unpleasantness, not -to say misery, than any Stephanie Maynard and George Harnash had ever -passed. Of the two, Harnash was in the worse case. Stephanie had two -things to distract her. - -The approaching wedding meant the preparation of a trousseau. What had -been got ready the year before would by no means serve for the second -attempt at matrimony. Now no matter how deep and passionate a woman's -feelings are she can never be indifferent to the preparation of a -trousseau. Even death, which looms so horribly before the feminine -mind, would be more tolerable if it were accompanied by a similar demand -upon her activities. Yet a woman's grief in bereavement is never so -deep as to make her careless as to the fit or becomingness of her -mourning habiliments. Much more is this true of wedding garments. - -Now if these somewhat cynical and slighting remarks be reprehended, -nevertheless there is occupation even for the sacrificial victim in the -preparation of a trousseau which, were it not so pleasant a pursuit, -might even be called labor. The fit of Stephanie's dresses on her -beautiful figure was not accomplished without toil, albeit of the -submissive sort, on the part of the young lady. That was her first -diversion. - -For the second relief the girl had a great deal more confidence in her -lover's promise than he had himself in his own prowess. Try as he -might, plan as he could, he found no way out of the _impasse_ so long as -the solution of it was left entirely to him, and the woman was -determined to be but a passive instrument. - -The obvious course was to go frankly to his friend and lay before him -the whole state of affairs in the hope that Beekman himself would cut -the Gordian knot by declining the lady's hand. Two considerations -prevented that. In the first place, Beekman had confidingly placed his -love affair, together with his business affairs, in the hands of his -partner. Harnash had not meant to play the traitor but he had been -unable to resist the temptation that Stephanie presented, and he simply -could not bring himself to make such a bare-faced admission of a breach -of trust. Besides, he reasoned shrewdly that even if he did make such a -confession it was by no means certain that Derrick Beekman would give up -the girl. His letters, since his cable from Hawaii, had rather -indicated a strengthening of his affection, and Harnash suspected that -the realization that his betrothed was violently desired by someone else -would just about develop that affection into a passion which could -hardly be withstood. - -In the second place, even if Beekman's affection for Harnash would lead -him to take the action desired by his friend, there would still be Mr. -Maynard to be won over. Harnash had not been associated with Maynard as -a broker in various transactions which the older man had engineered, -without having formed a sufficiently correct judgment of his character -to enable him to forecast absolutely what Maynard's position would be in -that emergency. Maynard had a considerable liking and a growing respect -for young Harnash. He had casually remarked to his daughter on more -than one occasion that Harnash was a young man who would be heard from. -Maynard had observed that Harnash strove for many things and generally -got what he wanted. - -Perhaps that remark, which the poor girl had treasured in her heart, had -something to do with her confidence that somehow or other Harnash would -work out the problem. But Harnash knew very well how terrible, not to -say vindictive, an antagonist and enemy Maynard could be when he was -crossed. If Beekman withdrew from the engagement, broke off the -marriage, about which there had been sufficient notoriety on account of -the first postponement after the older Beekman's death, Maynard's rage -would know no bounds. He would assuredly wreak his vengeance upon -Beekman, and if Harnash were implicated in any way the punishment would -be extended to him. - -Harnash knew that Beekman would not have cared a snap of his finger for -the older Maynard's wrath. He was not that kind of a man. Nor would he -himself have been deterred by the thought of it had he been a little -more sure of his position financially. Whatever else he lacked, Harnash -had courage to tackle anything or anybody, if there were the faintest -prospect of success. But to fight Maynard at that stage in his career -was an impossibility. These weighty reasons accordingly decided him -that it was useless and indeed impossible to appeal to his friend. - -Again, while Harnash was accustomed to stop at nothing to procure his -ends, and while he had declared that he would murder Beekman, he knew -that although he meant it more than Stephanie supposed, he did not mean -it enough to be able to do anything like that. His mind was in a -turmoil. He really was fond of Beekman, and if Stephanie and Derrick had -been wildly in love with each other Harnash believed that he would have -been man enough to have kept out of the way and have fought down his -disappointment as best he could. As it was, there was reason and -justice in what he urged. Since Stephanie loved him and did not love -Beekman, and since Beekman's affection was of a placid nature, the -approaching union was horrible. - -The wildest schemes and plans ran through his head or were suggested to -him after intense thought, only to be rejected. The problem finally -narrowed itself down to a question of time. Harnash was a great -believer in the function of time in determining events. If he could -postpone the marriage again he would have greater opportunity to work -and plan. He had enough confidence in himself, backed by Stephanie's -undoubted affection, to make him believe that with time he could bring -about anything. Therefore he must eliminate Derrick Beekman, -temporarily, at least, and he must do it before the wedding. The longer -he could keep him away from Stephanie, the better would be his own -chance. If even on the eve of the wedding the groom could disappear, -the fact would tend greatly to his ultimate advantage, provided Beekman -were away long enough. - -He concentrated his mind on this proposition. How could he cause -Derrick Beekman to disappear the day before his wedding, and how, having -spirited him away, could he keep him away long enough to make that -disappearance worth while from the Harnash point of view? That was the -final form of the problem in its last analysis. How was he to solve it? - -He could have Beekman kidnapped, and hold him for ransom in some lonely -place in the country. That was a solution which he dismissed almost as -soon as he formulated it. The thing was impracticable. He would have -to trust too many people. He could never keep him long in confinement. -He himself would probably become the victim of continuous blackmail. In -the face of rewards that would be offered, his employees would -eventually betray him. Sooner or later, unless something happened to -Beekman, he would get out. Harnash had plenty of hardihood, but he -shivered at the thought of what he would have to meet when Beekman came -for an accounting, as sooner or later he would. He would have to find -some other way. What way? - -Now Harnash's misery was further increased by the fact that Beekman had -cabled him to go ahead with the preparations for the wedding. The -Beekman yacht had broken down in Honolulu Harbor after that long cruise, -and instead of following his telegram straight home, there had been a -week of delay. He had explained the situation by cables to Harnash, -Stephanie, and her father. - -After the yacht, her engines pretty well strained from the year's -cruise, had been put in fair shape, ten days had been required for the -return passage. Beekman had some business matters to attend to in San -Francisco and he did not arrive in New York until a few days before the -wedding, which was to take place at the Cathedral of St. John the -Divine, the Bishop Suffragan and the Dean being the officiating -clergymen designate. - -It was fortunate in one sense that Beekman had been so delayed, for -there was so much for him to do, so many people for him to see, that he -had little opportunity for making love to his promised bride, and he had -no chance to discern her real feelings any more than he had to find out -Harnash's position. He had, indeed, remarked that Stephanie looked -terribly worn and strained, and that George Harnash was haggard and -spent to an extraordinary degree; but he attributed the one to the -excitement of the marriage and the other to the fact that Harnash had -been left so long alone to bear the burden of responsibility and -decision in the rapidly increasing brokerage business. - -When he had swept his unwilling bride-to-be to his heart and kissed her -boisterously, he had told her that he would take care of her and see -that the roses were brought back to her cheeks after they were married; -and after he had shaken Harnash's hand vigorously he had slapped him on -the back and declared to him that as soon as the honeymoon was over he -would buckle down to work and give him a long vacation. Neither of the -recipients of these promises was especially enthusiastic or delighted, -but in his joyous breezy fashion Beekman neither saw nor thought -anything was amiss. - -Never a man essayed to tread the devious paths of matrimony with a more -confident assurance or a lighter heart. Nothing could surpass his -blindness. - -"You see," said Stephanie in a last surreptitious interview with -Harnash, "he hasn't the least suspicion. He hugged me like a bear and -kissed me like a battering ram," she explained with a little movement of -her shoulders singularly expressive of resentment, and even more. - -"Damn him," muttered Harnash, under his breath. "He wrung my hand, too, -as if I were his best friend." - -"Well, you are, aren't you?" - -"I was, I am, and I'm going to save him from--" - -"From the misfortune of marrying me?" - -"I don't see how you can jest under the circumstances." - -"George," said the girl, "if I didn't jest I should die. I don't see -how I can endure it as it is." - -"Stephanie," he repeated, lifting his right hand as if making an -oath--as, indeed, he was--"I'm going to take you from him if it is at -the foot of the altar." - -These were brave words with back of them, as yet, only an intensity of -purpose and a determination, but no practical plan. It was Bill Woywod -that gave the practical turn to that decision on the part of Harnash. - -Now George Harnash came originally from a little down-east town on the -Maine coast. That it was his birthplace was not its only claim to -honor. It also boasted of the nativity of Bill Woywod. The two had -been boyhood friends. Although their several pursuits had separated -them widely, the queer friendship still obtained in spite of the wide -and ever-widening difference in the characters and stations of the two -men. - -Running away from school, Bill Woywod had gone down to the sea as his -ancestors for two hundred years had done before him. Left to himself, -Harnash had completed his high school and college course and had gone -down to New York as none of his people had ever done in all the family -history. Both men had progressed. Harnash was already well-to-do and -approaching brilliant success. He had thrust his feet at least within -the portals of society and was holding open the door which he would -force widely when he was a little stronger. - -Woywod had earned a master's certificate and was now the first mate, -technically the mate, of one of the ships of the Inter-Oceanic Trading -fleet, in line for first promotion to a master. Woywod was a deep-water -sailor. He cared little for steam, and although it was an age in which -masts and sails were being withdrawn from the seven seas, he still -affected the fast-disappearing wind-jamming branch of the ocean-carrying -trade. - -Indeed, the last full-rigged ship had been paid off and laid up in -ordinary. Just because it was the last wooden sailing ship of the -fleet, Maynard, whose fortune had been not a little contributed to by -sailing vessels in the preceding century, had refrained from selling -her. There was a sentimental streak in the hard old captain of -industry, as there is in most men who achieve, and the _Susquehanna_ had -not been broken up or otherwise disposed of. On the contrary, every -care had been taken of her. - -The demands of the great war brought every ocean-carrying ship into -service again. The _Susquehanna_ was refitted and commissioned. A -retired mariner who had been more or less a failure under steam but -whose seamanship was unquestioned was appointed to command. Captain -Peleg Fish was one of those old-time sailors to whom moral suasion meant -little or nothing. He was Gloucester born, and had served his -apprenticeship in the fishing fleet. Thereafter he had been mate on the -last of the old American clippers, had commanded a whaler out of New -Bedford, and knew a sailing ship from truck to keelson. - -He was a man of a hard heart and a heavy hand. His courage was as high -as his heart was hard or his hand was heavy. He was also a driver. He -drove his ship and he drove his men. He had been a success on the -_Susquehanna_ in her time, and because of that he had been able to get -crews and keep officers. Quick passages in a well-found ship, and good -pay, had offset his proverbial fierceness and brutality. He was now an -old man, but sailing masters were scarce. Officers and men were scarce, -too, on account of the war, and although the Inter-Oceanic Trading -Company had dismissed Captain Fish because of the way he had mishandled -the steamer to which they transferred him when they laid up the -_Susquehanna_, yet they were glad to call him into service when they -decided again to make use of that vessel. - -Grim old Captain Fish made but one condition. He was glad enough to get -back to the sea on which he had passed his life on any terms, and doubly -rejoiced that he could once more command a wooden sailing ship instead -of "an iron pot with a locomotive in her," as he designated his last -vessel. That condition was that he should have Bill Woywod for mate. -The two had sailed together before. They knew each other, liked each -other, worked together hand and glove, for Bill Woywod was a man of the -same type as the captain. The captain was getting old, too. He wanted -a stouter arm and a quicker eye at his disposal than his own. Besides, -Bill hated steam as much as Fish did. He was a natural-born sailor, not -a mechanic and engine driver. Among the bucko mates of the past, Bill -Woywod would not have yielded second place to anybody. They had to give -Woywod a master's pay to get him to ship, but once having agreed to do -that, he entered upon his new duties with alacrity. - -The _Susquehanna_ was a big full-rigged clipper ship of three thousand -tons. Given a favorable wind, she could show her heels to many a tramp -steamer or lumbering freighter, and even not a few of the older liners. -She was carrying arms and munitions for the Russians and ran between New -York and Vladivostok through the Panama Canal. - -If there was one person rough, hard-bitten Bill Woywod had an abiding -affection for, it was George Harnash. Whenever his ship dropped anchor -in New York the first person--and about the only respectable person--he -visited was his boyhood friend. To be sure, there was not much -congeniality between them. The only tie that bound them was that -boyhood friendship, but both of them were men without kith or kin, and -they somehow clung to that association. Woywod was proud of his -friendship with the rising young broker, and there was a kind of -refreshment in the person of the breezy sailor which Harnash greatly -enjoyed, especially as the visits of the seaman were not frequent or -long enough to pall upon the New Yorker. - -Harnash usually took an afternoon and night off when Woywod arrived. -They took in the baseball game at the Polo Grounds, dined thereafter at -some table d'hote resort which Harnash would never have affected under -ordinary circumstances, but which seemed to Woywod the very height of -luxury. Then they repaired to some theatre, usually one of the -high-kicking variety avowedly designed for the tired business man, which -was extremely congenial to the care-free sailor; and not to go further -into details it may be alleged that they had a good time together until -far in the night or early in the morning, rather. Harnash was usually -not a little ashamed next morning; Woywod, never! With sturdy -independence Woywod would alternate being host on these occasions. On -land and out of his element he was a fairly agreeable companion in his -rough, coarse way. It was only on the ship that he became a brute. In -the nature of things the devotion, if such it could be called, was all -on Woywod's side. It was an aspiration on his part and a condescension -on the part of Harnash, however much the latter strove to disguise it. - -The _Susquehanna_ had been loaded to her capacity and beyond with war -equipment for the Russian Government and was about to take her departure -from New York, when Woywod, who had been prevented before by the duties -imposed by the necessity of getting the ship ready quickly for her next -long voyage, paid his annual or semi-annual visit to his friend. Now -these visits had become so thoroughly a matter of custom that Woywod had -established the right of entrance. None of the clerks in the outer -office would have thought of stopping him, and although Harnash was very -strict in requiring respect for the sanctity of his private office -Woywod made no hesitation about entering it unceremoniously. - -Like all sailors, he moved with cat-like softness and quickness. He -opened the door noiselessly and surprised his friend seated at his desk, -his face buried in his hands in an attitude of the deepest dejection. -Friendship has a discerning power as well as greater passions. - -"Why, George, old boy," began Woywod, laying his hand on the other's -shoulder, and that touch gave Harnash the first warning that he was not -alone, "what's the matter?" - -Harnash looked up quickly, rose to his feet as he recognized his -visitor, and grasped him by the hand with a warmth he had not shown in -years. - -"Bill," he explained, "I'm in the deepest trouble that ever fell on a -man, and you come like an angel in time to help me." - -Harnash must have meant a dark angel, but Woywod knew nothing of that. - -"What is it, old man?" he asked. "If it's money you're needin' I got a -shot or two in the locker an'--" - -"No, it's not money. I'm making more than ever." - -"Been buckin' up agin the law an' want a free passage to safety? Well, -me an' old man Fish is as thick as peas in a pod, an' the -_Susquehanna's_ at your service." - -"It's not that, either." - -"What in blazes is it, then?" - -"A woman." - -"Look here, George," said Woywod, "I'm about as rough as they make 'em -an' there ain't no man as ever sailed with me that won't endorse that -there statement, but I never done no harm to no woman an' if you've -been--" - -"You're on the wrong tack again, Bill," interposed Harnash, smiling. -"It's a woman I love and who loves me." - -"Well, I don't reckon I can help you there unless you want me to be best -man at the weddin'." - -That suggestion struck Harnash as intensely comical, as it well might, -but he hastened to add diplomatically: - -"I couldn't wish a better man if there were going to be any wedding, -but--" - -"Do you love a married woman?" asked Woywod, going directly to the -point. - -"Not exactly." - -"What d'ye mean?" - -"I'll explain if you'll only give me a chance," answered Harnash, and in -as few words as possible he put the sailor in possession of the facts. - -"So you want to get rid of the man, do you?" he asked, when the story -had been told. - -"Yes. I don't want him harmed. I just want him out of the way." - -"And you think that I--" - -"If you can't help me I don't know who can." - -"Look here, George," said Woywod, earnestly. "Is this square an' above -board? Are you givin' me the truth?" - -"I am." - -"An' the gal loves you an' you love her an' she don't love this other -chap which she wants to git out of marryin' him?" - -"Right." - -"Then it's easy." - -"I thought you'd find a way." - -"It don't take much schemin' for that. Just p'int him out to me an' git -him down on the river front some dark night where I can git a hold of -him, with a few drinks in him, an' that'll be all there is to it. You -won't hear from him until the _Susquehanna_ gits to Vladivostok, an' -mebbe not then." - -"I don't want any harm to come to him." - -"In course not. I'll use him jest as gentle as I do any man on the -ship." - -"And he must never know that I--" - -"He won't know nothin'. When a man gits drunk enough he can't tell what -happens. You might tell yer lady friend that this is a little weddin' -present I'm makin' to my oldest an' best friend, that is, if you git -spliced afore I gits back from Vladivostok." - -"I'll surely let her know your part of the transaction. When does the -_Susquehanna_ sail?" - -"Thursday morning. Tide turns at two o'clock. We'll git out about -four." - -"You don't touch anywhere?" - -"Not a place unless we're druv to it by bad weather or some accident. -But if we do git hold of a cable I'll see that he stays safe aboard, in -case, which ain't likely, we're obliged to drop anchor in any civilized -port." - -"Have you got a wireless aboard?" - -"Nary wireless. When we take our departure from Fire Island it's up to -Cap'n Fish an' me an' the rest of us to bring her in." - -"There's no danger?" - -"Well, there's always danger in sailin' the seas, but nobody never -thinks nothin' about it with a good ship, well officered, well manned -an' well found. It's a damn sight safer than the streets of New York -with all them automobiles runnin' on the wind an' by the wind an' across -the wind an' every other way at the same time. It's as much as a man's -life is worth to try to navigate a street. Never mind the danger. -We've got to settle a few little details an' then the thing bein' off -your mind we can have a royal good time. You ain't got anything on -tonight?" - -"No engagement that I can't break. If it had been tomorrow, Wednesday, -it would have been different because that is the night my friend--" - -"Oh, he's a friend of yourn. Why don't you tell--" - -"No use, Bill; this is the only way. But because he is a friend of mine -I tell you I don't want him to come to any harm or to get any bad -treatment." - -"If he buckles down to work an' accepts the situation he won't get no -bad treatment from me." - -This was perfectly honest, for in the brutal school in which he had been -trained what he meted out to his men was what he had been taught was -right and what he believed they indeed expected, without which indeed -discipline could not be maintained and the work of the ship properly -done. Harnash had some doubts as to Beekman's ability to buckle down or -willingness, rather, but he had to risk something. The two friends put -their heads together and the minor details were easily arranged. - -"Better tell the gal it's goin' to be all right, hadn't you?" suggested -Woywod. - -"No," said Harnash, with a truer appreciation of the situation. "I -think I'll surprise her." - -"It'll be a surprise, all right," laughed the big sailor. "Well, you do -your part an' I'll do mine an' if the man does his part he'll come back -to find you married an' he can make the best of it. By the way, what's -his name?" - -"Is it necessary that I should tell you?" - -"No, 'tain't necessary an' perhaps on the whole it wouldn't be best. If -I don't know his name I can call him a damn liar whatever he says it is, -with a clear conscience," went on the sailor blithely and guilelessly, -as if conscience really mattered to him. - - - - - *CHAPTER IV* - - *A BACHELOR'S DINNER AND ITS ENDING* - - -Bachelors' dinners, masculine pre-nuptial festivities, that is, like -everything else with which poor humanity deals, may roughly be divided -into two kinds, which fall under the generic names of good or bad. Of -course, in practice, as in life, goodness often degenerates into badness -and badness is sometimes lifted into goodness. Such is the perversity -of human nature even at its best that when the declaration is made that -Beekman's bachelor dinner was a good one all interest in it is -immediately lost! Bad is so much more attractive in literature and in -life. Perhaps it may be said that while the dinner had not descended to -the unbridled license which sometimes characterized such affairs, and -while there were no ladies present in various stages of--shall it be -said dress or undress--nevertheless, the young fellows who were present -had a delightful time which if not as innocent as the festivities of -Stephanie's final entertainment to her lovely attendants, was -nevertheless quite what might have been expected from clean, healthy, -well-bred young Americans with a reasonable amount of restraint. - -The dinner was chosen with fine discrimination and epicurean taste; it -was cooked by the best chef, served at the most exclusive club and -accompanied by wines with which even the most captious _bon vivant_ -could not take issue. Perhaps some of the youngsters drank more than was -good for them--which instantly raises the question, how much, or how -little, if any, is good for a young man? They broke up at a decently -early hour in the morning in much better condition than might have been -expected. - -Beekman was one of the most temperate of men. He took pride in his -athletic prowess and he still kept himself in fine physical trim. A -very occasional glass of wine usually limited his indulgence. In this -instance, however, under conditions so unusual, he had partaken so much -more freely than was his wont--his course being pardonable or otherwise -in accordance with the viewpoint--that he was not altogether himself. -This was not much more due to the plan of Harnash than to the -solicitations of the other friends who found nothing so pleasant on that -occasion as drinking to his health, and generally in bumpers. Indeed, -not once but many times and oft around the board they pledged him and -were pledged in return. - -At the insistence of Harnash, Beekman had arranged to spend the night at -the former's apartment in Washington Square. Harnash made the point -that he was expected to look after him and produce him the next morning -in the best trim, therefore he did not wish him to get out of his sight. -Accordingly, Beekman had dismissed his own car and when the party broke -up about two o'clock in the morning he went away with Harnash in the -latter's limousine. - -At somebody's suggestion--Beekman could never remember whose, whether it -was his or his friend's--they stopped at several places on the way down -town for further liquid refreshment of which Beekman partook liberally, -Harnash sparingly or not at all. It was not difficult for an adroit man -like Harnash, confronted by a rather befuddled man like Beekman, to -introduce the infallible knock-out drops, with which he had been -provided by Woywod, into the liquor. - -As they crossed Twenty-third Street on their way down town Harnash -stopped the car. His chauffeur lived on East Twenty-third Street, and -Harnash dismissed him, saying he would drive the car down to his private -garage back of his residence in Washington Mews himself. There was -nothing unusual in this; the chauffeur subsequently testified that he -had received the same thoughtful consideration from his employer on many -previous occasions. When the chauffeur left the car, the drug had not -yet got in its deadly work. Beekman was still all right apparently and -the chauffeur subsequently testified that when Beekman bade him -good-night he noticed nothing strikingly unusual. Beekman seemed to be -himself, although the chauffeur could see that he was slightly under the -influence of wine. - -By the time the car, driven by Harnash with considerable ostentation and -as much notice as possible, for he wanted to attract attention to his -arrival, reached the garage, Beekman was absolutely unconscious on the -floor of the tonneau, to which he had fallen. Harnash ran the car into -the garage, closed the doors with a bang, and ran across the intervening -court rapidly and noisily and up to his own apartments. He was -ordinarily a considerate young man, and coming in at that hour he would -have made as little noise as possible, but on this occasion his conduct -was different. He stumbled on the stairs, banged the door behind him, -fell over a chair in his room, swore audibly. People subsequently -testified that they had heard him coming in and one even saw him, quite -alone. - -Without pausing an unnecessary moment in the room he made his exit from -his apartment by means of the fire escape, and this time not a cat could -have moved more silently. Fortunately, the back of the house was in deep -shadow and there were no lights adjacent. The shadow of the fence also -served him. He reentered the garage, having taken precaution the day -before secretly to oil the doors. He dragged his unfortunate friend and -companion from the limousine, stripped him of his overcoat and -automobile cap, which he put on himself. The coat he had previously -worn had differed in every particular from that of Beekman. He removed -Beekman's watch and other jewelry and his money, of which he carried a -considerable sum. These articles he stowed away in his private locker -to which his chauffeur did not have a key. He could remove them to his -office safe at his leisure. In Beekman's vest pocket he put a large -roll of his own money--he could not steal, though abduction was his -intent--and then he lifted him to the floor of his runabout which stood -in the garage by the side of the limousine. - -He next removed the number plates from the car, replaced them with false -ones, and ran the car out of the garage by hand. Every part of it had -been oiled so that its movement was absolutely noiseless. Then he -shoved the car down the street, which was now deserted, until he got -some distance away from the garage. The only really risky part of the -enterprise was at that moment. Fortune favored him--or not, as the case -may be. At any rate, no one appeared. It was after three o'clock in -the morning, the street was deserted, and there was not a policeman in -sight. He climbed into the car, started it, and drove off. - -He proceeded cautiously at first, seeking unfrequented and narrow -streets until he got far enough from the garage to change his going to -suit his purpose. After a time he sought the broader streets and passed -several people, mostly police officers, but them he now took no care to -avoid. He drove near them so that they would notice his general build, -which was that of his friend, and the clothes he wore, which were those -of his friend, and indeed they testified afterward that they had seen a -man dressed as and looking like Beekman, exactly as he had anticipated. -He drove past them rapidly so as not to give them time for too close a -scrutiny. Also he doubled on his trail often. - -When he reached a dark, lonely, and unfrequented block near South Water -Street he drew up before the door of a dimly lighted, forbidding looking -building, the sign on which indicated that it was a sailors' boarding -house. He got out of the car, taking precaution to slip on a false -mustache and beard with which he had provided himself, and tapped on a -door in a certain way which had been indicated to him. The door was at -once opened by a burly, rough, villainous looking individual, the -boarding house master, obviously a crimp of the worst class. - -"What d'ye want?" he growled out, scrutinizing the newcomer by the aid -of a gas jet burning inside the dirty, reeking hall, whose feeble light -he supplemented by a flash from an electric torch which really revealed -little, since Harnash carefully concealed his already disguised face. - -"I have something for Mr. Woywod." - -"The mate of the _Susquehanna_?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, he told me to receive an' deliver what you got." - -"That was our agreement," said Harnash, the little dialogue convincing -each man that no doubt was to be entertained of the other. - -"Well, where's the goods?" - -"In the car." - -"Fetch him in." - -"He's rather heavy. Perhaps you'll give me a hand." - -"Oh, all right," answered the man, putting his electric torch in his -pocket. - -The two went to the car and the man easily picked up the unconscious -Beekman and unaided carried him within the door. Harnash followed. He -observed the man glanced at the numbers on the car and was glad that he -had taken the precaution to change them. The crimp now dropped the -unconscious Beekman in the hallway and turned to Harnash. He found the -latter standing quietly, but with an automatic pistol in his hand. - -"You needn't be afraid of me," said the man. - -"I'm not," answered Harnash. He was ghastly pale and extremely nervous, -but not from fear of the crimp. "This is just a matter of precaution." - -"Well, what do I git out of this yere job?" asked the man. - -"I understand Mr. Woywod will settle with you for that." - -"Well, he does, but what I gits from him is the price of a foremast -hand, an' 'tain't enough." - -The crimp bent over Beekman, flashed the light on him, and pulled out -the roll of bills, which he quickly counted. - -"It's fair, but I'd ought to git more. This here's a swell job; look at -them clo'es." - -"They're yours also, if you wish." - -"That's somethin', but--" - -"It's all you'll get," said Harnash, laying his hand on the door. - -The man lifted the torch. Harnash lifted the pistol. - -"Just put that torch back in your pocket," he said. - -"You're a cool one," laughed the man, but he obeyed the order. - -"If it is learned tomorrow that this man has disappeared you'll receive -through the United States mail in a plain envelope a hundred dollar -bill. If not, you get nothing." - -"Suppose I croak him, how'd you know anything about it?" - -"Mr. Woywod has arranged to inform me, and he will also put your part of -the transaction on record, so if you say a word you'll be laid by the -heels and get nothing for your pains. There are a number of things -against you, I'm told. The police would be most happy to get you, I -know. Just bear that in mind." - -The man nodded. He knew when the cards were stacked against him. After -all, this did not greatly differ from an ordinary job and he was -getting, for him, very well paid for his part of it. - -"I got relations with Woywod an' lots of other seafarin' men. My -business would be ruined if I played tricks on 'em. You can trust me to -keep quiet." - -"I thought so," answered Harnash. "Good-night." - -He opened the door, stepped outside, closed the door behind him, and -waited a moment, but the crimp made no effort to follow him. After all, -it was only an every day matter with him. Harnash next drove the car -down the street near one of the wharves, where he met Woywod. - -"Is it all right, George?" asked the latter. - -"All right, Bill. He's at the place you told me to leave him. Can you -keep the crimp's mouth shut?" - -"Trust me for that," said Woywod confidently. "He's mixed up in too -many shady transactions to give anybody any information." - -"I'll never forget what you've done for me," said Harnash. "Remember, -use him well." - -"No fear," laughed his friend as the two shook hands and parted. - -Then Harnash drove up the street, waited until he came to a dark alley, -turned into it, unobserved, got out of the car, put Beekman's coat and -hat into it, donned his own overcoat and cap, which he had brought with -him, and still wearing the false mustache and beard changed the numbers -on the car, started it, and let it wreck itself against the nearest -water hydrant. - -It was a long walk up town, even to Washington Square, and he had to go -very circumspectly because he did not now wish to be seen by anyone. -Again fortune favored him. He gained the garage, crossed the court, -mounted the fire escape to his rooms, and sank down, utterly exhausted -but triumphant. - -His defense was absolutely impregnable. No one could controvert his -story. He rehearsed it. He had come home with Beekman after the dinner -had terminated. They had had one or two drinks on the way. They had -dismissed the chauffeur at Twenty-third Street. When they reached the -garage Beekman, moved by some sudden whim, had insisted upon going back -to his own apartment up town in Harnash's little roadster. He had been -drinking, of course. He was not altogether in possession of his normal -faculties, but Harnash was in the same condition and therefore he had -not been too insistent. Beekman was as capable of driving the car as -Harnash had just showed himself to be. There was nothing he could do to -prevent Beekman from going away. He could not even remember, when he -was questioned, whether he had tried it or not. At any rate, Beekman -had gone away in the roadster and Harnash had gone to bed. So dwellers -in the building who heard him come in testified. One who happened to go -to the window even had seen him come in. No one had seen or heard him -go out. Harnash swore that he had not left the apartment until the next -morning. - -Beekman, or a man dressed as he was known to be dressed, had been seen -by the police officers and others between three or four in the morning, -driving through the lower part of the city in a small car the number of -which no one had seen. What he was doing in that section of the city no -one could imagine. During the course of the morning Harnash's car was -found, badly smashed from a collision, lying on its side in a wretched -alley off South Water Street. Beekman's overcoat and cap were in the -car and that was all there was to it. - -No matter what suspicions the crimp might have entertained, he kept his -mouth shut and received the day after the one hundred dollar bill in an -unmarked envelope which had been mailed at the general postoffice in the -afternoon. Even if he had spoken, he could not have thrown much light on -the situation. Not even the reward which was offered could tempt him. -His business demanded secrecy, absolutely and inviolable, and too many -men knew too much about him, which rendered it unsafe for him to open -his head. He would not kill the goose that laid the golden egg for him -by making further business on the same lines impossible. He really knew -nothing, anyway. - -The secret was shared between two men, Woywod on the sea and out of -communication with New York, and Harnash himself. So long as they kept -quiet no one would ever know. Even Beekman himself could not solve the -mystery when he returned to New York. It was most ingeniously planned -and most brilliantly carried out. Harnash congratulated himself. -Stephanie Maynard would certainly be his long before Beekman could -prevent it. Still, George Harnash was by no means so happy in the -present state of affairs as he had planned and hoped to be. And his -trials were not over. He had to meet Stephanie, the wedding party, old -John Maynard, the public press, and the public--what would the day bring -forth? - - - - - *CHAPTER V* - - *THE WEDDING THAT WAS NOT* - - -Stephanie Maynard had passed a sleepless night. Her love for George -Harnash grew stronger and her abhorrence of the marriage increased in -the same degree as the hour drew nearer. Too late she repented of her -determination. She wondered why she had not allowed Harnash to take her -away and end it all. What, after all, were her father's wishes, or her -own promises, or the worldly advantages they would gain, or anything -else, compared to love? - -Harnash had sent word to her the day before that she was not to give up -hope, that something would happen surely, but now the last minute was at -hand and nothing had happened. A dozen times she started to call her -lover on the telephone and a dozen times she refrained. Finally the -hour arrived when the victim must be garlanded for the sacrifice. At -least, that is the way she regarded it. - -She had not heard a word from her husband-to-be during the morning. -Under other circumstances that would have alarmed her, but as it was she -was only relieved. The wedding party was assembled at the brand new -Maynard mansion on upper Fifth Avenue. Two of the attendants were -school friends from other cities and they were guests at the house. The -wedding was to be followed by a breakfast and a great reception which -the Maynard money and the Beekman position was to make the most -wonderful affair of the kind that had ever been given in New York. - -With the publicity which modern society courts and welcomes, while it -pretends to deprecate it, the papers had published reams about the most -private details of the engagement, even to descriptions and pictures of -the most intimate under-linen of the bride. Presents of fabulous value, -which lost nothing in their description by perfervid pens, were under -constant guard in the mansion. Details of police kept back swarms of -unaccredited reporters and adventurous sightseers. On the morning of -the wedding day the street before the Cathedral was packed with the -vulgarly curious long before eleven o'clock. The wedding was to be -solemnized at high noon, and was to be the greatest social event which -had excited easily aroused and intensely curious New York for a year or -more. - -The newer members of the exclusive social circle frankly enjoyed it. -And such is the contagion of degeneration that the older members, while -they affected disdain and annoyance, enjoyed it too. The newspapers had -played it up tremendously, and the affair had even achieved the signal -triumph of a veiled but well understood cartoon by F. Foster Lincoln, -the scourge and satirist of high society, in a recent number of _Life_. - -Everything was ready. The most famous caterer in New York had prepared -the most sumptuous wedding breakfast. The most exclusive florist had -decorated the church and residence. Society had put on its best -clothes, slightly deploring the fact that as it was to be a noon wedding -its blooming would be somewhat limited thereby. More tickets had been -issued to the Cathedral than even that magnificent edifice could hold -and it was filled to its capacity so soon as the doors were opened. The -famous choir was in attendance to render a musical program of -extraordinary beauty and appropriateness. - -As it approached the hour of mid-day the excitement was intense. Women -in the crowd were crushed, many fainted. Riot calls had to be sent out -and the already strong detachment of police supplemented by reserves. -Thus is the holy state of matrimony entered into among the busy rich. -With the idle poor it is, fortunately, a simpler affair. - -It had been arranged that Derrick Beekman and George Harnash should -present themselves at the Maynard mansion not later than eleven o'clock. -From there they would drive to the Cathedral in plenty of time to -receive the wedding party at the chancel steps. At eleven o'clock a big -motor forced its way through the crowd and drew up before the door. -From it descended George Harnash alone. - -That young man showed the effect of the night he had passed. He was -excessively nervous and as gray as the gloves he carried in his hands. -He was admitted at once and ushered into the drawing room, which was -filled with a dozen young ladies in raiment which even Solomon in all -his glory might have envied, who were to make up the wedding party. -There also had just arrived the young gentlemen who were to accompany -them, who had all been at the bachelor dinner. None of them exhibited -any evidence of unusual dissipation. They had slept late and were in -excellent condition. - -"George, alone!" cried young Van Brunt, who was next in importance to -the best man, as Harnash entered the room. - -"Where's Beekman?" asked Harnash apparently in great surprise, as he -glanced at the little group. - -"Not here. You were to bring him. It's time for us to get up to the -Cathedral anyway. I'll bet the people are clamoring at the doors now." - -"They weren't to be opened till eleven-fifteen," said Grant, one of the -fittest members of the party. "It's only eleven now. We've plenty of -time." - -"Well, you better beat it up now, then. Beekman will be here in a -minute, I'm sure," said Harnash. "We'll follow you in half an hour." - -As the young men who were to usher left the room the girls fell upon -Harnash. - -"Mr. Harnash," said Josephine Treadway, who was the maid-of-honor, "will -you please tell us where Derrick Beekman is, and why you didn't bring -him along?" - -"I can't," said Harnash. "As a matter of fact I--" - -"You'll tell me, certainly," interposed the voice that he loved. - -He turned and found that Stephanie, having completed her toilet, had -descended the stair and entered the room. She was whiter than Harnash -himself, but her lack of color was infinitely becoming to her in her -sumptuous bridal robes, and the adoring young man decided then and there -that whatever happened she was worth it. - -"Mr. Beekman," continued the girl, "was to be here at eleven o'clock -with you. It's after that now and you're here alone. Where is he? Why -didn't you bring him?" - -"Miss Maynard," said Harnash formally, and in spite of himself he could -not prevent his lip from trembling, "I don't know where he is." - -"What!" exclaimed the girl, really astonished, as the whole assembly -broke into exclamations. Had Harnash accomplished the impossible, as he -had threatened? - -"I can't find him," went on Harnash. He could scarcely sustain -Stephanie's direct and piercing gaze. He forced himself to look at her, -however. "I don't know where he is," he repeated. - -"But have you searched?" - -"Everywhere. I called up his apartment on Park Avenue at ten o'clock. -They said he wasn't there and hadn't been there all night. I started my -man out at once in a taxicab, jumped into my own car, and I've been -everywhere--the office, his clubs--I've even had my secretary and clerks -telephone all the hotels on the long chance that he might be at one of -them." - -"And you haven't found a trace of him? George Harnash--" began -Stephanie, but Harnash was too quick for her; he did not allow her to -finish. - -"You will forgive me," he went on; "I did even more than that in my -alarm. I finally notified the police on the chance that he might have -been er--er--brought in." - -He shot a warning look at Stephanie that checked further inquiries from -her. - -"Why should he be brought in?" asked Josephine Treadway, who had no -reason for not asking the question. - -"Why, you see," went on Harnash, "it's desperately hard to tell, and I'd -rather die than mention it, but under the circumstances I suppose--" - -"Out with it at once," cried Stephanie. - -"Well, we had a little dinner last night at--well, never mind where." - -"We had a dinner, too," said Josephine. - -"Yes, but I imagine ours was--er--different. At any rate, it didn't -break up until quite late, or, I should say, early in the morning, and -we were not--quite ourselves." - -"But Derrick is the most abstemious of men." - -"Exactly; so am I, and when that kind go under it's worse than--you -understand," he added helplessly. - -Stephanie nodded. - -"When did you see him last?" - -"Why--er--I'll make a clean breast of it." - -"Do so, I beg you." - -"Well, then, we were right enough when the dinner broke up. Derrick and -I left the others to their own devices. He had arranged to spend the -night with me. We stopped at one or two places down town, but reached -my quarters in Washington Square about two or three o'clock." - -Harnash paused and swallowed hard. It was an immensely difficult task -to which he had compelled himself, although so far he had told nothing -but the truth. - -"Go on," said Josephine Treadway impatiently as the pause lengthened. - -"He changed his mind after we put the limousine in the garage and -insisted on going back to his own rooms." - -"Did you let him go?" - -"I did." - -"Why?" - -"Well, Miss Treadway, I couldn't help it, and, to be frank, I didn't -try. You see we were neither of us very sure of ourselves and--and--" - -"I see." - -"He took my runabout, drove off and--that's all." - -"Have you found the runabout?" - -"Yes, the police found it in an alley near South Water Street, badly -smashed. Beekman's overcoat and cap were in the car." - -"Do you think he has been hurt?" questioned Stephanie, who had listened -breathlessly to the conversation between her lover and her -maid-of-honor. - -"I'm sure that he can't have been," returned Harnash with definiteness -which carried conviction to his questioner, and no one else caught the -meaning look he shot at her. - -"And that's all?" asked Josephine. - -"Absolutely all I can tell you," he replied truthfully, none noticing -the equivoke but Stephanie, who of course could not call attention to -it. - -"You poor girl," said Josephine, gathering Stephanie in her arms. - -"It's outrageous. It's horrible," cried the girl, biting her lip to -keep back her tears. - -She really could scarcely tell whether she was glad or sorry, now that -it had come; not that her feelings had changed, but there was the public -scandal, the affront, the--but she had not time to speculate. - -"What is outrageous, what is horrible?" asked John Maynard, coming into -the room and catching her words. "What can be outrageous or horrible in -such a wedding as we have arranged? Why, Stephanie, what's the matter? -You're as white as a sheet, and Harnash, are you ill? You're a pretty -looking spectacle for a best man." - -"Father," said his daughter, "they can't find Derrick." - -"Can't find him!" exclaimed Maynard. "Does he have to be sought for on -his wedding day? If I were going to marry a stunning girl like you, for -all you're as pale as a ghost, I--" - -"There's not going to be any wedding," said Stephanie, mechanically. - -"No wedding!" roared Maynard, surprised intensely. "What do you mean? -Are you backing out at the last minute?" - -"No, it's not I." - -"Look here, will some one explain this mystery to me?" asked the man, -turning to the rather frightened bevy of girls. "It's eleven-thirty; we -ought to be starting. What's the meaning of this infernal foolishness? -You, Harnash, what are you standing there looking like a ghost for? One -would think you were going to be married yourself." - -"Mr. Maynard," said Josephine, taking upon herself the task, "Stephanie -has told you the truth. Mr. Harnash has just come and he doesn't know -where Mr. Beekman is." - -"Doesn't know where he is?" - -"He can't be found, sir," said Harnash. - -"Do you mean to tell me that he has run away and left my girl in the -lurch? By God, he'll--" - -"I'm sure it isn't that," said Harnash earnestly, "but the fact is we -had a bachelor dinner last night." - -"Of course you did, but what has that to do with it?" - -"Everything. I guess we indulged a little too much." - -"Well, bachelors have done that fool thing since time and the world -began." - -"Yes, but Beekman hasn't been seen since early this morning, two or -three o'clock." - -"Who saw him last?" - -"I did," said Harnash, briefly repeating his explanation. - -"What did you do?" - -"I 'phoned to his house and they said he hadn't been there all night. I -dressed, sent my man out in a taxi, took my own car, summoned the office -force to my assistance, and Dougherty's detectives, and I've scoured the -city for him." - -"The police?" - -"I have notified them, of course, as soon as they reported the finding -of my runabout. They're on the hunt, too. We have even called up every -hotel in the city. He's not to be found." - -"It must be foul play," said Maynard, taking Harnash's account of it at -its face value. - -"I suppose so," said Harnash, wincing a little, although he would fain -not, and again shooting a quick glance at Stephanie, and then daringly -following it with a quick gesture of negation to reassure her. - -"Where that car was found it wouldn't take much to interest a thief." - -"No. He had a watch, jewelry, money. Indeed, I have a dim remembrance -of his flashing a roll in some place or other." - -"That will be it." - -"Meanwhile what is to be done, sir?" - -"It's a quarter to twelve now," said Josephine Treadway. - -"God, how I hate this," said old Maynard. "Here," he stepped to the -door and called his private secretary, "Bentley, drive up to the -Cathedral like mad, tell the Bishop that the wedding is called off. -Yes, don't stand there like a fish; get out." - -"But we'll have to give some reason to the people, explain to the guests -in the church," expostulated the secretary. - -"Reason be damned," said Maynard, roughly. - -"Excuse me," said Harnash, "it would be better for all concerned, and -especially Miss Maynard, if the matter were explained at once, and -fully. You wouldn't like to have anyone think for a moment that she had -been left in the lurch." - -"Mr. Harnash is right, sir. It must be explained as well as it can." - -"Very well, Bentley," said his employer. "Tell the Bishop that Mr. -Beekman has disappeared, that we are of the opinion that he has met with -foul play, that under the circumstances there is nothing to do but call -off the wedding and have the explanation announced in the Cathedral in -any way he likes, and then get back here as quickly as possible. -Stephanie, I'd rather have lost half my fortune than have this happen, -but keep up your courage. I feel that nothing but some dastardly work -would have kept Beekman away. He is the soul of honor and he was -passionately devoted to you. Don't faint, my dear girl." - -"I'm not going to faint," said Stephanie, resolutely. "Girls, I'm -awfully sorry for your disappointment," she faltered. - -"Don't mind us," said Josephine. - -"I'm afraid that perhaps you--you--" - -"We're going at once," explained one of the bridesmaids, "if you will -have our motors called up." - -"Of course," said Maynard. "Harnash, you attend to that and then come -to me in the library. William," he added to the footman who came in -obedience to his summons, "get me the chief of police on the telephone -and when the reporters come, and they will be here just as soon as the -announcement is made at the church, show them into the library in a -body. I've got to see them and I'll see them all at once. Harnash, you -come, too. You can tell the story better than anyone." - - - - - *CHAPTER VI* - - *STEPHANIE IS GLAD AFTER ALL* - - -The sudden disappearance of one of the principals in the Maynard-Beekman -wedding was the sensation of the hour. John Maynard was deeply hurt and -terribly concerned because he was very fond of Beekman, and because in -spite of his bold front the young man's failure to appear had reflected -upon his daughter. The lewd papers of the baser sort, playing up the -bachelor dinner, did not hesitate to point this out, and insinuations, -so thinly disguised that every one who read understood, appeared daily. -That there was not a word of truth in them was of little consequence -either to the writers who knew they were lying or to the public, which -did not. The clientele of such papers was ready to believe anything or -everything bad; especially of the idle rich. - -Reportorial and even editorial--which is worse--imagination was -unrestrained. As the newspapers had devoted so much space to the -preparations, they did not stint themselves in discussing the aftermath -of the affair. The police bent every energy to solve the mystery. -Maynard was a big power in public affairs and they were stimulated by a -reward of one hundred thousand dollars which Maynard offered for tidings -of the missing man, a reward which made the wiseacres put their tongues -in their cheeks as they read of it. - -The gorgeous wedding presents were returned. The lovely lingerie of the -bride, which had been so talked about, was laid away and the bride -herself was denied to every caller. Even George Harnash sought access -to her person in vain. The scandal, the humiliation, had made her -seriously ill, and by her physician's orders she was allowed to see no -one. - -However, the first person she did admit was George Harnash. Indeed, so -soon as she was able to be about she called him up and demanded his -immediate presence. He had been waiting for such a summons. He knew it -was unavoidable. It had to come. He dropped everything to go to her. -He was horrified when he saw her. He had got back some of his nerve and -equipoise to the casual observation, although he still showed what he -had gone through to a close scrutiny. He had been catechized and -cross-questioned, even put through a mild form of the third degree by -the police, but little to their satisfaction. He could tell them -nothing definite. They got no more out of him than he had volunteered -at first. They were completely and entirely mystified. - -Several steamers had sailed for various ports that day and night, but it -was easily established, when they reached port, that they had not -carried the missing man. They completely overlooked the _Susquehanna_ -for reasons which will appear. Beekman's disappearance remained one of -those unexplained mysteries for which New York was notorious. The reward -still stood and the authorities were still very much on the alert, but -they were absolutely without any clue whatsoever. Derrick Beekman had -disappeared from the face of the earth. Besides Harnash, there was only -one person in the city who had any definite idea as to the cause of his -departure, and that was Stephanie Maynard. A proud, high-spirited girl, -she had suffered untold anguish in the publicity and scandal and -innuendo. - -"My God, Stephanie!" cried Harnash, as she received him in a lovely -negligee in her boudoir. "You look like death itself." - -"And I have passed through it," said the girl, "in the last week. Now, -I want you to tell me where Derrick is." - -"Stephanie," answered Harnash, "it would be foolish for me to pretend -that I don't know." - -"It certainly would." - -"I told you that I meant to have you and that I would stop the wedding -if I had to take you from the altar steps." - -"But we didn't get that far." - -"It amounts to the same thing. I--er--took him. It was easier." - -"Where and how did you take him?" - -"Don't ask. I can't tell." - -"And you have covered me with shame inexpressible. I shall never get -over it as long as I live. How could you do it? How could you?" - -"Are you reproaching me?" - -"Reproaching you!" cried Stephanie. "Do you think I could tamely endure -this public scandal, this abandonment, without a word?" - -"But I did it for you." - -"Yes, I suppose so, but that doesn't make it any less humiliating." - -"Stephanie, tell me, do you love Derrick Beekman?" - -"No, I hate him." - -"And me?" - -"I hate you, too." - -"Oh, don't say that." - -"I wish I were dead," cried the girl. "I can never go out on the street -again. I can never hold up my head anywhere any more, and it's your -fault. What have you done with him?" - -"Do you want him back? Do you want to go through with the marriage? -Look here," said Harnash, "desperate diseases require desperate -remedies. I'll tell you this, and that is all I will tell you. I am -sure Derrick is all right. He will come to no harm." - -"Are you holding him a prisoner somewhere?" - -"I am not." - -"I don't understand." - -"It is better not. It isn't necessary," answered Harnash stubbornly. - -"And you actually made away with him?" - -"I got him out of the way, if that's what you mean. But he's alive, -well, and in no danger. I caused it to be done--" - -"Are you sure of that?" - -"Absolutely." - -"Don't you know that you've done a criminal act?" - -"Of course I know it. Do you think I'm a fool because I'm crazy in love -with you?" - -"And don't you know you will have gained his eternal enmity and the -enmity of my father when they find this out?" - -"I don't care about anybody's enmity unless it's yours." - -"Well, you've almost gained mine." - -"Almost, but not quite. You feel horribly now. I understand. Do you -think it has been joyful to me to have put my best friend out of the way -and to have brought all this scandal and shame upon you? But there was -no other way. You're mine in the sight of God and I'm going to make you -mine in the sight of men." - -"But my father will never forgive you when he knows." - -"I don't think he will ever find out my part, or Beekman either." - -"Why not?" - -"I can't explain, but if your father does find out what can he do? In -six months I'll be independent of anything and anybody and when we are -married we can laugh at him and at the rest of the world." - -"At Beekman, too?" - -"Yes, even at him. Stephanie, you don't know what it is to love as I -do. For you I'd stop at nothing short of murder. You didn't believe me -when I said that, but I meant it. I've made myself a criminal, I admit, -but for your sake. Now am I going to fail of my reward? Do you want me -to produce Derrick Beekman? Do you want him to come back and throw me -in jail and marry you? Well, I didn't expect it; I didn't count upon -it--" this was only a bluff, of course, since by no means could Harnash -have got back Beekman from the _Susquehanna_ then--"but if that is what -you really want say the word. Can you turn down a love like mine, that -will stop at nothing for your happiness? I swear to you that I believe -it is as much for your happiness as my own. I won't say it is all for -you, because I want you, but I am thinking of you all the time. I -couldn't bear to see you in his arms. What is the little bit of -scandal? It will be forgotten. When you are my wife I'll take care of -you. If you don't want to live here we'll live anywhere. If I pull off -two or three big deals that are in the air I'll be able to do anything. -Oh, Stephanie, you aren't going back on me now?" - -"You know that I couldn't do that," answered the girl, greatly moved by -his passionate pleading. After all, she did love this man and not the -other. - -"You're the kind of woman that a man will do anything for. I'm sorry -for Beekman, I'm sorry for everything, but I'm going to have you." He -came close to her as he spoke. "Do you understand that?" he asked, -raising his voice. "I did it for you, you, and no man shall balk me of -my reward. If you won't come willingly, you shall come unwillingly." - -"Oh," said the girl, "how horribly determined and wicked you are, and -yet--" - -As she looked up at him the passion with which he spoke, rough, brutal -as it was, quickened again her heart that she thought was dead. For the -first time in weeks the color rushed into her face. - -"That's right," said Harnash, watching her narrowly. "I can still bring -the blood to your cheeks." - -He bent over her, he dragged her almost rudely from her seat and crushed -her against him. He kissed her as roughly as he had spoken. - -"This," he said, "pays for everything. If I'm found out, if I have to -go to jail, I don't care. I'm glad. You love me. You can't deny it -and in your heart of hearts you're glad and you'll be gladder every hour -of your life." - -The girl gave up. After all, what possibility of happiness did she have -except with Harnash? More and more she appeared before the world as a -thing cast off and scorned. Harnash's position in society and business -was improving every day, but it was not that which influenced her. She -really loved him. She responded to his pleading. Mistaken though he -was, vicious as had been his design, that effort, wrong as was his -method, showed her how much he loved her. - -"You're not going to fail me now, are you? You need not answer. I can -feel it in the beat of your heart against mine." - -"No," said the girl. "I'm yours, I suppose." - -"Don't you know?" - -"Yes, I know. No one else would want me, discarded." - -"I want you. I'd want you if the whole world rejected you." - -"And you won't tell me where Derrick is?" - -"No, it's a heavy secret to carry in one's breast. I feared that they -would worm it out of me. You can't know what I've gone through," he -went on. "I've been suspected and questioned and cross-questioned, but -I never gave it away. It was you who kept me up. The thought of you -always, you, you, you! Meanwhile I'm slaving my life out, almost -wrecking my brain, to carry out these big deals, and when it is over and -I have you they can do their worst. Your father, Beekman when he comes -back--" - -"Oh, then he will come back?" - -"Of course he will. And I'll face them all. I don't know whether I -have damned myself for you or not, but if I have, I don't care," he went -on recklessly. - -"It was my fault, anyway," said the girl. "I should have been stronger. -I should not have agreed to such a marriage, and I should not have kept -the agreement when I loved you." - -"You need not say that," said Harnash--there was good stuff in him---"It -is all my own plan and scheme. You were bound, and there was only one -way to break the bond. Now I give myself six months. By that time the -talk will have died out and we will be married." - -"I'll marry you," said the girl, "or I'll marry no one else on earth, -but before I marry you you must bring Derrick Beekman into my presence -and he must release me." - -"That is a harder thing than what I have done, but I'll do it. Provided -you will help me." - -"I will, but how?" - -"When you see him you must tell him that you don't love him and that you -wish to marry me." - -"Very well. I'll do that part." - -"And I'll do the other." - -"Promise me, on your word of honor." - -"Honor!" exclaimed Harnash bitterly. "Do you think, after what I have -done, that I've got any honor, that you could trust to?" - -"I'll be trusting myself to you," said the girl, "and you know what that -implies." - -"Say that you are glad that it has happened as it has, despite the -scandal." - -Stephanie looked at him a long time. - -"You poor boy," she said, drawing his head down and kissing his forehead -in that motherly way which all women have toward the men they love until -the maternal affection has a chance to vent itself in the right -direction. "How you must have suffered for me." - -"It was nothing." - -"Yes, I am glad," she said at last. - - - - - *CHAPTER VII* - - *UP AGAINST IT HARD* - - -When he went to bed, what time it was when he awakened, or where he was -at that moment were facts about which Derrick Beekman had no ideas -whatsoever. At first he was conscious of but one thing--that he was; -and that consciousness was painful, not to say harrowing, to the last -degree. For one thing, he was horribly sick. The place where he lay -appeared to be as unsteady as his mental condition was uncertain. He -was heaved up and down, tossed back and forth, and rolled from side to -side in an utterly inexplicable way to his bewildered mind. And every -mad motion threw him against some bruised and painful portion of his -anatomy. - -As he struggled to open his eyes it seemed to him that he was lying in -pitch darkness. His ears were assailed by a concatenation of discordant -noises, creaks, groans, thunderous blows of which he could make nothing. -No one has ever pictured hell as a place of reeking odors and hideous -sounds. Why that opportunity has been neglected is not known. Certainly -the popular brimstone idea of it is highly suggestive. At any rate, the -bad air and other indescribable odors, to say nothing of the noises that -came to him, added to his physical perturbation and wretchedness. Under -the circumstances, the wonder was not so much that he did not think -clearly, but that he could think at all. It was only after some moments -of sickening return to consciousness that he became convinced that he -was alive and somewhere. - -He lay for a little while desperately trying to solve the problems -presented to him by his environment, with but little immediate success. -Finally, as a help toward clearing up the mystery, he decided upon -exploration. Though the undertaking was painful to him, he made an -effort to sit up. His head came in violent contact with something which -he had not noticed in the obscurity above him and nearly knocked him -senseless again. After another violent fit of sickness, he decided upon -a more circumspect investigation. - -He felt about with his hands and discovered that he was in some box-like -enclosure one side of which seemed to be open save for a containing -strip against which he had been violently hurled several times and which -had prevented him from being thrown out. This enclosure was in -violently agitated motion. At first, in his confusion, he decided -vaguely upon a railroad train, a sleeping-car berth, but he realized -that not even the roughest freight car would produce such an effect as -that unless the train were running on the cross ties, in which case its -stoppage would be immediate. This pitching and tossing kept on. If he -had been in his clear senses, he would have known in an instant where he -was, but it was only after violent effort at concentration that his -aching head told him that he must be aboard a ship! - -He was familiar with steamers of the more magnificent class, and with -his own yacht, and the pleasure craft of his friends, and he knew enough -from reading to decide that this was the forecastle of a ship. He -decided that it was a wooden ship. The outer planking against which he -lay was of wood. He listened next for the beat or throb of a screw, and -heard none. Thinking more and more clearly, it came to him that it was -a sailing ship. As his eyes became used to the obscurity, he saw abaft -his feet and to his left hand, for he lay head to the bows, well forward -on the port side, a square of light which betokened an open hatchway. -He strained his eyes up through the hatchway. He could make out -nothing. It was still daylight on deck, and that was all he could -decide. - -As he lay staring stupidly, above the roar of the wind, and the creaking -and groaning of the straining ship and the thunder of great waves -against the bow as she plunged into the head seas, he heard harsh -voices. The tramping of many feet, hurried, irregular, came to him; -then a sudden silence; a command followed, and again the massed and -steady trampling of the same feet. A shrill, harsh-creaking sound -followed, as of taut rope straining through the dry sheaves of a heavy -block. Rude rhythmical sounds, sailors' chanties, penetrated the wooden -cave in one of the recesses of which he lay. It was a sailing ship, -obviously. They were mast-heading yards; apparently setting or taking -in sail. - -What ship, and how came he aboard? By this time he was sufficiently -himself to come to a decision. He would get out of that berth. He -would mount the ladder, the top of which he could see dimly nearest the -hatch-combing, and get out on deck. - -He thrust one leg over the side of the berth, and as the dim light fell -upon it, he discovered that he was barefoot. It had not yet occurred to -him to examine his clothes. Being asleep, he would naturally be wearing -the luxurious night gear he affected. Not so in this instance. Where -the white of his leg stopped he discerned a fringe of ragged trousers. -He felt them. They were tattered and torn, and indescribably foul and -dirty. Mystery on mystery! Cautiously, so as not to hit his head a -second time, he sat up and lowered himself to the deck. Continuing his -inspection, he was horrified at the shirt which covered the upper half -of his body, and which fully matched the trousers. Where were the -clothes he had worn the night before? - -It came upon him like the proverbial flash of lightning from a clear -sky--that bachelor supper, the gay revelry, the wine he had drunk, his -sallying forth with George Harnash. He vaguely remembered their first -stop; after that--nothing. Where were his watch, his studs, his money? -He looked around carefully, with a faint hope that he might see them. A -dress suit was, of course, an absurdity at that hour and in that place, -but anything was better than those filthy rags. There was nothing to be -seen of them, of course. - -The horror and unpleasantness of the place grew upon him. Lest he -should give way to another tearing fit of sickness, he must get up on -deck. Clothes would come later, and explanations. He staggered aft -toward the foot of the ladder, the violent motion of the ship--and in -his place, in the very eyes of her, the motion was worst--making -progress difficult. It was not that he lacked sea legs, nor was he -merely seasick. His unsteadiness and nausea came from other causes. - -As he put his foot on the ladder, like another flash came the -recollection that this was his wedding day. He was, indeed, a day out -in his reckoning, but that was to develop later. He stopped, petrified -at the appalling thought. His wedding day, and he in this guise on a -ship! He groaned with horror, clapping his hands to his face, and the -next roll threw him violently against the ladder, opening a cut in his -head so that the blood began to trickle down the side of his cheek. - -This seemed to have a good effect upon him. The blow, as it were, -dissipated some of his imaginings. It was an assault that quickened the -working of his mind. He rose to the provocative stimulus of it. He got -to his feet, brushed the blood out of his eyes, mounted the ladder, and -stepped over the hatch-combing. - -He found himself on the deck of a large, old-fashioned, full-rigged -sailing ship. A lookout paced across the deck from side to side -forward. Way aft he saw a flying bridge just forward of the mizzenmast, -on which two officers stood. A number of men had tailed on to what he -realized were the foretops'l halliards, upon which they were swaying -violently, constantly urged to greater exertions by a big, rough-looking -man who stood over them. From time to time they broke into a rude -chant, in order to apply their efforts unitedly and rhythmically to the -task of raising the foretops'l yard, the sail of which had just been -double reefed. The men who had performed that task were tumbling down -from aloft on the shrouds on either side. Although he was an amateur -sailor, Beekman was familiar enough with ships to realize much of what -was going on. - -It was a raw, rough day. There was a bite in the wind which struck cold -upon his unaccustomed body through his rags. It was already blowing a -half gale, with a fine promise of coming harder, apparently, and they -were reducing the canvas. As the ship was by the wind, sheets of cold -spray swept across the already wet decks. - -While he stared, the men stopped jigging on the foretops'l halliards. -They were belayed, and at the mate's command the crew lined up on the -main tops'l halliards, ready to sway away at command, while those -topmen, whose business it was to handle the canvas on the mainmast, -sprang up on the sheer poles and rapidly ascended the ratlines. - -In all these movements, which appeared confused, but which were not, -Beekman had stood unnoticed, but he was not to escape attention much -longer. The man who had been directing the men on the halliards caught -sight of him as they were belayed. He turned and walked forward. - -"Here, you sojer," he began roughly, "what in hell do you mean by -standin' aroun' here doin' nothin'?" - -"Are you talking to me?" - -"Who else would I be talkin' to? D'ye think I'm addressin' a -congregation?" - -"I'm not accustomed to this sort of speech, and I'll thank you to modify -it," answered Beekman, outraged by the other's brutal rudeness, and -quite forgetful of his appearance and condition. - -He was a quick-tempered young man, and all his life he had received -deference and respect. He did not propose to let anybody talk to him -that way. - -"Why, you infernal sea lawyer, you back-talkin' slob, you dirty -malingerer, what do you think you are; one of the officers on this ship; -a passenger?" - -"Whatever I am, I'm not under your orders." - -"You ain't, ain't ye! I'll learn you what you are. Git aft an' tail on -to them halliards, an' be quick about it." - -"I'll see you damned first." - -"What!" roared Bill Woywod. He balled his enormous fist and struck -viciously at Beekman. In a rough-and-tumble fight the latter would have -had no chance with the mate, for what the officer lacked in science he -made up in brute force. Beekman was in a horrible physical condition -from his excesses and the result of the knockout drops which had been -administered to him, but his spirit was as strong as ever, and his skill -as great. He parried the blow easily with his left, and sent a swift -right to Woywod's iron jaw. - -The main tops'l halliards had not yet been cast off, and the men surged -forward. Captain Peleg Fish, with an amazing agility for one of his -years, disdaining the accommodation ladders, leaped over the rail of the -bridge, dropped to the deck, and ran forward, leaving the conning of the -ship to the second mate. - -"Rank mutiny, by heck," shouted the captain, drawing a revolver. "Stand -clear, git back to them halliards, every mother's son of ye, or I'll let -daylight through ye. What's the matter here, Mr. Woywod?" - -Now, if Beekman had been in good condition, that blow to the jaw might -have put Woywod out for a few moments, although that is questionable, -but as it was, it had merely staggered him. It lacked steam. But it -was hard enough to rouse all the devilry in the mate's heart. - -"Do you need any help, sir?" continued Captain Peleg Fish, handling his -pistol. - -"None. Stand back, men," he answered to the captain, and shouted to the -crew in one breath. - -Woywod had taken one blow. He took another, for, as he leaped at -Beekman, who was not so thoroughly angry that he did not stop to reason, -the latter hit him with all his force. Woywod partly parried the blow, -and the next moment he had the young man in his arms. He crushed him -against his breast; he shook him to and fro. He finally shifted his -hands to the other's throat and choked him until he was insensible. -Then he threw him in the lee scuppers and turned aft, the crew falling -back before him and running to the halliards with almost ludicrous -haste. - -"What was the trouble?" asked Captain Fish. - -"The lazy swab refused to obey my orders to tail on the halliards with -the rest of the men, an' then he struck me." - -"Rank mutiny," shouted the captain. "Shall we put him in irons?" - -"No, sir. We're not any too full handed as it is. He evidently doesn't -know the law of the sea. Perhaps he's not quite himself. It's the -first time he's been on deck since we took our departure yesterday -mornin'. Leave him to me, sir; I'll turn him into a good, willin', -obedient sailorman afore I gits through with him." - -"Very good. Bear a hand with the maintops'l," said the captain, turning -and walking aft. "It blows harder every minute. I don't want to rip -the sticks off her just yet, although I can carry on as long as any -master that sails the sea," he added for the benefit of Salver, the -second mate. - -The sea was rising, and although the _Susquehanna_ was a dry ship, yet -the wind had nipped the tops of the waves and from time to time the -spray came aboard. There was water in the lee scuppers, and this -presently brought back consciousness to Beekman. He sat up finally, -and, no one paying him any attention, watched the proceedings until the -reefs had been taken in the tops'ls and the ship prepared for the -growing storm. He watched them with no degree of interest but with -black rage and murder in his heart. If he had a weapon, or the -strength, he thought he would have killed the mate as the latter came -toward him. - -With a desire, natural under the circumstances, to be in position for -whatever might betide, he rose to his feet and clung desperately to the -pinrail, confronting the mate. The men of the crew had scattered to -their various stations and duties. All hands had been called, but the -ship having been made snug alow and aloft, the watch below had been -dismissed, and some of them were already tripping down the ladder into -the forepeak. Beekman was left entirely to his own devices. No one -presumed to interfere between the mate and this newest member of the -ship's people. - -"Well, you," began Woywod with an oath. "Have you had your lesson? Do -you know who's who aboard this ship? Are you ready to turn to?" - -"I'm ready for nothing," said Beekman hotly, "except to kill you if I -get a chance." - -"Look here," said Woywod, "you're evidently a green hand. Probably -you've never been on a ship afore, an' you don't know the law of the -sea. 'T ain't to be expected that you would. We gits many aboard that -makes their first v'yage with us. But there's one thing you do know, -an' that's that I'm your master." His great hand shot out and shook -itself beneath Beekman's face. "An' I'm your master not only because -I'm first officer of this ship, but because I'm a better man than you -are. I flung you into the lee scuppers an' I can do it again. I'm -willin' an' wishful to do it, too. If you gimme any more mutinous back -talk; if you refuse to turn to an' do your duty accordin' to the -articles you signed when you come aboard, you'll git it again. If you -act like a man instead of a fool, you'll have no more trouble with me 's -long as you obey orders. D'ye git that?" - -"I get it, yes. It's plain enough, but it makes no difference to me." - -"It don't, don't it?" - -"No; and I'm not a member of this crew. I signed no articles, and I -don't propose to do a thing unless I please. I want to see the captain." - -"You gimme the lie, do you?" said Woywod, approaching nearer. - -"Now, look here," said Beekman; "I want you to understand one thing." - -"What's that?" - -"I'm not afraid of you. You can kill me. You've got the physical -strength to do it, although if I were not so sick, there might be an -argument as to that; so you might as well quit bullying me. Oh, yes, I -have no doubt but what you could knock me over again, but I'll die -fighting." - -His hand clenched a belaying pin. He drew it out and lifted it up. - -"Mr. Woywod," the captain's voice came from aft, "is that man givin' you -any trouble again?" - -"I can deal with him, sir." - -"Send him aft to me." - -Of course, Woywod could not disobey so direct an order. He had no relish -for it, but there was no help for it. Beekman himself took action. He -shoved past the mate, who, under the circumstances, did not dare to hit -him, and made his way staggering along the deck to the bridge, where the -mate followed him. Two or three of the crew came aft, but the mate -drove them forward with curses and oaths. - -"Young man," said the captain, an old man of short stature, but -immensely broad shouldered and powerful, "do you know what mutiny is?" - -"I certainly do." - -"Oh, you've been to sea before, have you?" - -"Many times." - -"On what ships?" - -"Trans-Atlantic liners and my own yacht." - -"Your own yacht!" The captain burst into a roar of laughter. - -"That's what I said." - -"Do you know I'm the master of this ship?" - -"I presume so." - -"Well, then, say 'sir' to me, an' be quick about it." - -"It is your due," said Beekman; "I should have done it before. I beg -your pardon, sir." - -"That's better. Now, what's this cock-an'-bull story you're try in' to -tell me? Look here, Smith--" - -"That's not my name, sir." - -"Well, that's the name you made your mark to on the ship's articles when -you were brought aboard, the drunkest sailor I ever seen." - -"That's exactly it," said Beekman. "I'm no sailor, and my name is not -Smith." - -"What's your name?" - -"Beekman; Derrick Beekman." - -"How came you aboard my ship?" - -"I suppose I've been shanghaied. I don't know any more than you do; -perhaps not as much." - -"You mean," roared the captain, "that I had any hand in bringing you -here?" - -"I don't know anything about that. I only know that I was to be married -today, Thursday." - -"'Tain't Thursday; it's Friday. You've been in a drunken stupor since -Thursday morning." - -"Friday!" - -Beekman looked about him with something like despair in his heart. -There was not even a ship to be seen in the whole expanse of leaden sea. - -"Captain--What's your name, sir?" - -"Well, the impudence of that," ejaculated Woywod. - -"What difference does it make to you what the cap'n's name is," sneered -Salver. - -"It's Peleg Fish, Smith-Beekman, or Beekman-Smith; Captain Peleg Fish." - -"Well, Captain Fish, I'm a member of an old New York family and--" - -"Families don't count for nothin' here," said the captain. "If that's -all you've got to say, I've seen a many of them last scions brought down -to the fok's'l." - -"I was engaged to be married to the daughter of John Maynard. I presume -you've heard of him." - -"Do you mean the president of the Inter-Oceanic Trading Company?" - -"I do." - -"Well, I've heard of him all right," laughed the captain. "This is the -_Susquehanna_. She belongs to his company. We fly his house flag. Do -you mean to tell me that you claim to have been engaged to his daughter; -a drunken ragamuffin like you, the off-scourin's of Water Street, which -the crimps unload on us poor, helpless, seafarin' men as able seamen?" - -"I was. I am. The wedding was set for yesterday. We had a bachelor -dinner on Wednesday night, and I guess we all drank too much. At any -rate, I don't know anything further except that I woke up here." - -"It's a likely story." - -"That chap's got a rich imagination," sneered the second mate. - -"He'd orter be writin' romances," ejaculated Woywod. - -"Enough," said Captain Fish. "Your story may be true or it may not. I -don't think it is, but whether it is or not, it don't matter. You were -brought aboard at two o'clock Thursday morning. We tripped and sailed -at four. His name's on the articles, Mr. Woywod?" - -"It is; John Smith. I witnessed his signature. He couldn't write at -the time, so someone held his hand an' he made his mark." - -"This is an outrage," roared Beekman. "What became of my watch and -clothes?" - -"You had nothin' but what you've got on now when you came aboard. Am I -right, cap'n?" - -"You are, sir." - -"So you see there's nothin' for you to do but turn to an' behave -yourself an' obey orders. When the ship reaches Vladivostok, an' we -pays off, you can take your discharge an' go where you please." - -"I'll give you a thousand dollars to go back to New York and land me." - -The captain grinned. Taking their cue from him, Mr. Woywod and Mr. -Salver exploded with laughter. - -"You might as well make it ten thousand, while you're about it." - -"I will make it ten thousand," said Beekman, desperately. - -"Nonsense!" - -"Well, then, will you trans-ship me to some vessel bound for New York?" - -"We're short handed, sir," put in Woywod. - -"Couldn't think of it," said the captain, who, of course, disbelieved -_in toto_ Beekman's highly improbable story. - -This was the richest and most extravagant tale he had ever listened to. -To do him justice, every voyage he had ever sailed had produced someone -who strove to get out of the ship by urging some wildly improbable -excuse for his being there. - -"Well, sir, if you won't do that, I suppose Colon will be your first -port of call, and you are going through the Panama Canal. Let me get on -the end of the cable there and I'll get you orders from Mr. Maynard -himself." - -"I might be inclined to do that," said the captain facetiously, "but the -canal is blocked by another slide in the Culebra cut, an' we're goin' -around the Horn." - -"Don't you touch anywhere?" - -"Some South Sea island for vegetables an' water, mebbe, but no place -where there's a cable, if I can help it. When I takes my departure I -don't want nobody interferin' with me an' sendin' orders after me." - -"Is there a wireless on the ship?" - -"No. Now, if you've finished your questionin', perhaps you'll allow me -to say a word or two." - -"An' you may be very thankful to the cap'n for his kind treatment, for I -never seed him so agreeable to a man tryin' to sojer out of work an' -shirk his job afore," said Woywod. - -"Jestice, Mr. Woywod, an' fair treatment, even to the common sailor, is -my motto. As long as they obey orders, they've got nothin' to fear from -me, an' that goes for you, Smith." - -"Beekman," insisted the young man. - -"Smith it was, Smith it is, Smith it will be. That's the first order. -Now, I'll give you a little advice. Mr. Woywod and Mr. Salver is among -the gentlest officers I ever sailed with, so long as they ain't crossed. -You turn to an' do what you're told or you'll git it constantly; fist, -rope's end, belay'n pin, sea boots, or whatever comes handiest, an' if -you're obstinate enough, an' if it's serious enough, a charge of mutiny, -an' double irons. Understand?" - -Beekman nodded; the captain's meaning was clear. - -"Go for'ard, now, an' remember, mutiny means a term in prison at the end -of the voyage, an' mebbe worse. However you come aboard, you're here, -an' bein' here, you got to obey orders or take the consequences." - -"I protest against this outrage. I'll have the law. I'll bring you to -justice." - -"Belay that," said the captain, more or less indifferently. "It don't -git you nowhere. If you are well advised, you'll heed my suggestions, -that's all." - -Beekman was absolutely helpless. There was nothing that he could do. -Although more angry and more resentful than ever, he fully realized his -impotency. He turned to go forward. Bill Woywod stopped him. The -passion that the mate saw in Beekman's face, as he fairly gritted his -teeth at him, startled him a little. Most liars and malingerers did not -take it that way. They accepted the inevitable with more or less grace. - -"You're in my watch," said Woywod. - -"More's the pity." - -"An' it happens to be the watch below. One bell has jest struck; -four-thirty. The watch below takes the deck at four bells; six o'clock -for the second dogwatch. I'll give you till then to think about it. If -you don't turn to then with the rest an' do a man's duty, by God, you'll -suffer for it." - - - - - *CHAPTER VIII* - - *THE ANVIL MUST TAKE THE POUNDING* - - -Beekman had never thought so hard in his life as he did in the next hour -and a half. Try as he would, he could see no way out of the hideous -_impasse_ into which fate had thrust him. He had not the faintest idea -that his situation was caused by the treachery of his friend. No -suspicion of betrayal entered his mind. He was certain it was simply -the result of accident, and no one was to blame except himself. - -He had got beastly drunk after that dinner. He had driven down town -with Harnash. They had stopped on the way. They had finally separated. -He had been assaulted, robbed, and probably left senseless from drink -and the beating he had received. He hoped fervently that he had put up -a good fight before being beaten into insensibility. Some crimp had -picked him up, stripped him of his clothes, put him into these filthy -rags, and sent him aboard the ship. By a legal mockery which would yet -suffice, he had signed the articles. There was no way he could convince -the captain of the truth of his story. Unless stress of weather or -accident drove the ship to make port somewhere, he could communicate -with nobody for six months, or until they dropped anchor at Vladivostok. -He was a prisoner. Neither by physical force nor by mental alertness -and ability could he alter that fact or change conditions. - -Fantastic schemes came into his mind, of course; among them the -organization of the crew, a mutiny, the seizure of the ship. But that -would not be possible unless conditions on the ship became absolutely -unbearable; and even if it were practicable, in all probability he might -be leading the whole body to death and disaster. Beekman knew something -about the organization and administration of the Inter-Oceanic Trading -Company. He knew their ships were always well found and well -provisioned. Given a well-found ship and plenty of good food to eat, -and a sailor will stand almost anything. - -Besides, most of these men knew fully the character of Captain Fish, Mr. -Woywod, and Mr. Salver. They were as hard as iron, and as quick as -lightning, and as ruthless as the devil himself, but if the men did what -they were told, and did it quickly, and did it well, they got off with -abuse only, and a comparative freedom from manhandling. - -All three officers were fine seamen. They could handle a ship in any -wind or sea as a skilled chauffeur handles a well-known car in heavy -traffic, and it is a great deal harder to handle a ship than a car, -especially a sailing ship. Blow high, blow low, come what would, these -men were equal to any demand, and all that could be got out of timber -and cordage and canvas, to say nothing of steel wire, these men could -get. Also they were drivers. They would carry to'gall'n'ts'l's when -other ships dared show no more than a close-reefed tops'l. Speed was a -prime requisite with the owners. The _Susquehanna_, in particular, had -to justify her use, and Captain Fish took a natural and pardonable pride -in striving for the steamer record. All this pleased the men. Sailors -will put up with much from a skillful, energetic, alert, daring, and -successful officer. They made quick runs and drew high pay. Many of -them had been attached to the _Susquehanna_ since she had been -commissioned. They had learned so to comport themselves as to avoid as -much trouble as possible. - -Beekman was in the receipt of not a little rough, but common-sense, -advice from the watch below in the forecastle. His own better judgment -told him that the unpalatable advice must be followed. Fish, Woywod, -and Salver had it in their power to harry him to death. His spirit, -nevertheless, rebelled against any such knuckling down as would be -required. At three bells in the first dogwatch one of the ship's boys -came to him with a message. - -"Are you John Smith?" he said, stopping before him. - -Beekman took his first lesson then and there. His inclination was, as -it had been, to shout his own name to the trucks whenever he was -questioned, but what was the use? He bit his lips and nodded. - -"That's what they call me." - -"Well, Mr. Gersey wants to see you." - -"Who is he?" - -"He's the ship's Bo's'n." - -"Am I at the beck and call of everybody on the ship?" - -"Look here, young feller," said an old, down-east sailor named Templin, -who, on account of his age and experience, had been made the Bo's'n's -mate of the port watch. "You've had a lot of advice throwed into you, -which you may or may not foller. This last is worth 'bout as much as -all the rest. The Bo's'n ain't no certificated officer. He don't live -aft. He's got a position sort o' 'twixt fo'c's'l an' quarter-deck, but -there's no man aboard who can do more for you or agin you than him. You -seems to be a sort of a friendless damn fool. We don't none of us -believe your yarn, but we sympathize with you because we've been in the -same sitooation, all of us. Jim Gersey is a square man. You ain't had -no chance to run athwart his hawse, an' like enough he wants to do you a -good turn. You'd better go, an' go a-runnin'." - -"Thank you," answered Beekman, rising and following the boy to the -boatswain's cabin, right abaft the forecastle. - -"Look here, Smith--" began that grizzled and veteran mariner, who had -followed the sea all his life, and looked it. - -"Smith is not my name." - -"In course, it ain't, but it's the name you'll go by on this ship. I -don't know why it is, but every man I ever seed articled on a ship -without his consent got named Smith or Jones. I've knowed some mighty -respectable people o' them names, an' I don't see why they've got to be -saddled with all the offscourin's o' creation, meanin' no offense," said -the rough, but somehow kindly, old man. "Smith it is, an'--" - -"Smith goes," said Beekman briefly. "What's my first name, if I may -ask?" - -"Reads 'John' on the articles." - -"John's as good as any." - -"Now, you're takin' things in the right spirit. I heerd what you said -to the officers, an' I seen how you got involved with Mr. Woywod. I -sized you up good and plenty. Whether your yarn is true or not, an' I -ain't passin' no judgment on that, it's evident that you ain't used to -the sea, that you ain't used to rough work, I means, an' this yere is -new experience for you. I'm old enough to be your father, an' it jest -occurred to me that it would be a thing I'd like to remember when I -quits the sea an' settles down on a farm I got my eyes on, that I took a -young feller an' give him a friendly hand an' a word o' warnin', an' -that's why I sent for you." - -"I appreciate it more than I can tell. As man to man, I assure you that -my story is absolutely true. If I ever get out of this alive, I'll -remember your conduct." - -"'T ain't for that I'm tryin' to steer you a straight course." - -"I believe it." - -"You've got to knuckle down, take your medicine, turn to an' do your -dooty like a man. There ain't three harder men on the ocean to sail -with than the old man an' them two mates. I've been on many ships, an' -under many officers, but there couldn't be a worse hell ship than this -one'd be if the men didn't knuckle down. You can't talk back; you can't -even look sideways. You got to be on the jump all the time. You got to -do what you're told, an' you got to do it right. Tryin' won't git you -nowhere. It's doin' it. They're hell on every natural mistake." - -"Why do men submit to it? How can they get a crew?" asked Beekman -fiercely. "I would almost rather die than stand it." - -"No, you wouldn't, sonny," said the loquacious old boatswain quickly. -"If what you say is true, an' I ain't sayin' it ain't, you've got -somethin' to live for, an' even if it ain't true, you've probably got -something to live for ashore. If you're a fugitive from jestice, or -anything o' that kind, which we gits 'em of'en, there's plenty of other -lands where a man can disappear an' make a new start. An' men," he went -on, reverting to the other's question, "are willin' to ship on the -_Susquehanna_, an' do it over an' over agin, because she's well found, -the grub's A-1, she's a lucky ship, an' makes quick passages. The pay -is high, an' the officers are prime seamen, every inch o' them. If you -do your dooty, if you do it right, if you don't make no mistakes, you'll -git plenty o' hard language an' black looks, but that's all. If you -don't they'll haze you until your spirit's broke, aye, until your life's -gone. I'll do it myself," he added frankly. "I ain't talkin' to you now -as the Bo's'n of the ship, but jest as man to man; as an old man -advisin' a young one. If I find you shirkin', or sojerin', or puttin' -on any airs, or playin' any tricks, I won't be far behind Woywod and -Salver an' the old man. That's all." - -"Mr. Gersey--" - -"Cut out 'Mister.' I ain't no quarter-deck officer." - -"Well, then, Bo's'n. I've thought it over. I'll accept your advice." - -"It's the only thing you can do." - -"That's true, and the only reason I do it. But, by heaven, if I ever -get ashore, and if I ever get Woywod ashore, I'll pay him for it." - -"There's many would like to help you at that job," answered Gersey; "but -the trouble is to git him ashore. After ship's crews is paid off, they -generally scatters an' disappears, an' sailormen's memories is short. -They count on gittin' it hard from everybody, anyway. They've been -trained that way from the beginnin'. They grow so forgetful that after -they get on another ship there's nothin' too good to say of the last one -in comparison. Do you know anything about sailorin'?" - -"I don't know any knot-and-splice seamanship, if that's what you mean; -but I'm a navigator, and I can sail my own yacht. I can do a trick at -the wheel. I've never been on a full-rigged ship." - -"What was your yacht?" - -"A steamer, of course." - -"Show any canvas?" - -"Not to speak of." - -"Ever been aloft?" - -"No." - -"Well, I'll do my best to train you. You've got an awful hard course to -steer. You began bad by gittin' the mate down on you, an' I've no doubt -but what he'll be layin' for you all the time, anyway." - -"So long as he keeps his hands off me, I'll give him no further chance -for trouble." - -"An' if he don't?" asked the boatswain impressively. - -"If he goes to that length--" - -"You'll have to stand it jest the same. Mutiny on the high seas is the -worst crime a sailor can be found guilty of. Everybody ashore is on the -side of the officers--courts, an' jestices, an' juries." - -"I'd like to get that brute in a court," said Beekman savagely. "I'd -almost be willing to mutiny to do it." - -"Take my advice on this p'int, too," said Gersey earnestly. "The less a -sailor man has to do with law sharks an' courts ashore, the better off -he finds hisself." - -Thus it happened that when four bells were struck, and all the port -watch were called, Beekman presented himself with the rest. - -"So you've decided to turn to, have you, you dirty ragamuffin?" roared -Woywod as the watch came tumbling aft. - -"I have." - -"Say, 'sir,'" cried the mate. - -He had a piece of rattan in his hand, and he struck Beekman a blow on -the arm. The hardest word he ever ejaculated in his life was that "sir" -which he threw out between his teeth. - -"That's well," said Woywod. "Now, you assaulted me; you've been -technically guilty of mutiny, but I'll forgit that. You turn to an' do -your work like a man, an' you'll have nothin' to fear from me, but if I -catch you sojerin', I'll cut your heart out." - -Beekman couldn't trust himself to speak. He stood rooted to his place -on the deck until Woywod turned away. It was singular how the -environment of a ship turned a fairly decent man ashore into a wolf, a -pitiless brute, at sea. Woywod knew no other way to command men. The -men with whom he had been thrown knew no other way to be commanded. The -mate had completely forgotten his friend's instructions to treat Beekman -with unusual consideration. As a matter of fact, Woywod was harder on -Beekman in his own heart and in his intentions than on any other man for -several reasons. - -Beekman had faced him. He had refused to be cowed. He was not even -cowed now. Beekman had struck him and almost knocked him down. Beekman -was a gentleman. In every look, in every movement, he showed his -superiority over, and his contempt for, Woywod. Harnash had arrived at -the same social degree as Beekman, but he was careful, because of his -old affection, to treat Woywod exactly as he had treated him in days -gone by. Woywod knew--he was not without shrewdness--that he was not on -Harnash's social level, or even upon an intellectual parity with him, -but Harnash never allowed the slightest suggestion of inequality to -appear in their intercourse, because he really liked the man. When a -man of inferior temper, quality, and character is placed in -irresponsible charge of a man who surpasses him in everything, the -tendency to tyrannize is almost irresistible. In Woywod's mind, he -himself was, somehow, identified with justice and right. He was engaged -in serving a woman who, to his perverted apprehension, was to be forced -into a marriage with a man she hated, and that man was before him, in -his power. - -Woywod was not all bad. He was the last exponent of a certain kind of -officer; a very bad kind, it must be admitted, but an efficient kind, as -well. There were certain rudimentary principles of justice and fair -dealing in him, and some of those whom he abused worst realized that, -and stood for more from him than they would otherwise; but in the case -of Beekman, both justice and fair play were in abeyance for the reasons -mentioned. Woywod was determined to break his spirit, and to ride him -down, and Beekman sensed that. It was to be a fight between him and the -mate from New York to Vladivostok, with every advantage on earth on the -side of the mate. - -Beekman had as quick a temper as any man living. He had never been -forced to control it much. The world had given free passage everywhere -to him, backed as he had been by those things before which men bow down. -Whether he could control himself, whether he could submit to the end, he -did not dare to say. He did not hope that he could, but at least he -would give it a fair trial. In his secret heart he prayed that he might -control himself, for, if he did not, he was sure he would kill the mate -by fair means or foul. He wanted very much to live, if for no other -thing than to justify himself in the eyes of Stephanie Maynard, whose -present opinion of him he could well imagine. - -He had not been the most ardent of lovers. He was not the most ardent -of lovers now. It was pride rather than passion that made him crave -that opportunity for justifying himself, although he deluded himself -with the idea that his heart was fairly breaking on account of her. -Indeed, a simple reflection might have convinced him of the falsity of -that proposition, because the predominant emotions that mastered him -were hatred of Woywod and longing for revenge. - -What would have been those emotions if he had known that Woywod was but -an instrument in the hands of another, and that other a rival for the -affections of his promised wife, and one who had passed as his best -friend? - - - - - *CHAPTER IX* - - *THE GAME AND THE END* - - -Having chosen his line of conduct, Beekman, with a strength of will and -purpose of which no one would have suspected him, adhered to it rigidly, -and the very fact that he was unable to goad him into revolt inflamed -the passion and developed the animosity and hatred of Woywod. The mate -was perfectly willing and, indeed, anxious to manhandle Beekman, but -that little fundamental streak of fair play made him keep his hands off -when he had no cause. To be sure, he sought diligently for cause and -occasion, and that he did not find it, angered him the more. - -Beekman had never been face to face with a very difficult situation of -any kind. Life had been too easy for him. There had been no special -demands upon his character by any very pressing emergency, and perhaps -that made him study the position in which he found himself more -carefully. Among other things, he decided to make himself popular with -the crew, and to do it by gaining their respect. Unlike Ancient Pistol, -he would be by no means "base, common, and popular," if popularity was -to be procured in that way only. He had always been acclaimed a leader, -in athletics at any rate, both in the prep school, in the university, -and afterward among his friends and acquaintances. - -Without stooping to their level, without truckling to their prejudices -by promises or bribery that is, he achieved that object. He was easily -the most popular man on the ship. And it was no small tribute to his -adaptability that one of his quality and station could gain the -universal approval of so many men so radically different. In little -ways that fact presently became apparent to the quarter deck, and Woywod -resented that especially. It irked him exceedingly that a man against -whom he imagined he had a just cause for grievance, and who had, from -his point of view, entirely merited his displeasure, should be upheld -and acclaimed by the rest of the men over whom he ruled with iron -severity. This was an affront to him, and an additional cause for -resentment, not to say hatred. - -In all this, Beekman had not changed his opinion of Woywod in the least -degree. In return, he hated him with a good, healthy, genuine hatred -that grew with every passing hour. It became increasingly hard for him -to control himself and to follow out his course in the face of Woywod's -constant endeavors to arouse his temper. Indeed, quick and passionate -by inheritance, and by lack of restraint since childhood, Beekman found -himself marvelling at his own self-control. - -If it had not been that his course so thoroughly angered the mate as in -a certain sense to enable Beekman to get even with him, he would have -lost that control again and again. As it was, his soul writhed under the -sneers, the insults, the brutal blackguarding, the foul language of -Woywod, to say nothing of the exactions, the unfair and almost -impossible tasks that were heaped upon him. And Salver, taking his cue -from his superior, did his little best to make life a burden to Beekman. -Grim, stern, ruthless Peleg Fish rather enjoyed it, too. With natural -keenness, the master of the ship realized that it was a battle and a -game between the two men, and he delighted in it as a sporting -proposition. - -Perhaps the popularity Beekman had gained among the crew helped him to -bear these things. A few of them were quick enough mentally to look -beneath the surface. Jim Gersey was of that small number. The young -man had completely gained that old man's confidence. Beekman had seen -the uselessness of persisting in his story, and he had made no further -references to it among the crew after that first day, but with Gersey he -made an exception. The old boatswain was shrewd and worldly wise in a -guileless sort of way. The two had many long talks together, and the -younger had at last succeeded in convincing the older of the truth of -his tale. Without seeming to do it, the boatswain helped the newcomer -through many a difficult situation, and by ostentatiously joining in the -bullying he got from the quarter deck, and by keeping secret his -friendship, it was not suspected aft. - -Beekman had no suspicion as to how he got on the ship. He supposed his -presence was due to blind fate. He knew that once he could get on the -end of a telegraphic cable he could free himself from his detestable -position, but he shrewdly suspected that if there were any way to -prevent that, Woywod, who acted with the consent and approval of Fish, -could be depended upon to stop it. Beekman had talked that matter over -with Gersey, and he had given the boatswain an address and a message -which the old man had laboriously committed to memory. If Beekman were -kept on the ship, Gersey would send the cable from Vladivostok, or from -whatever civilized port they made. For the rest, with a reckless -disregard of expenditure, Beekman discarded his filthy rags, and -comfortably outfitted himself from the ship's well-equipped slop-chest, -his extravagant outlay being deducted from his able seaman's pay, for -which, of course, he cared nothing. - -In spite of the fact that she was well found, and the men were well fed, -and the passage was a quick one, and the ship fairly comfortable, by the -time the cruise drew on to its end, the ship was usually a smouldering -hell, and this voyage was no exception. - -The men had been driven hard. A succession of westerly gales off Cape -Horn had kept them beating about that dreadful point for nearly two -weeks, and even after they had rounded it, for once the Pacific belied -its name. The wind shifted after they passed the fiftieth parallel, so -they had to face a long beat up to the line. Gale succeeded gale. Such -weather was unprecedented. It had never been heard of by the oldest and -most experienced seamen on board. The men were worn out; their nerves on -ragged edge. The severe straining the ship had got had made her take in -water, not seriously, but at a sufficiently rapid rate to require a good -deal of pumping. The steam pump broke down for a time and the crew had -to man the hand pumps. Their nerves were on edge and raw, and the -officers ground them down worse than ever. - -If Beekman had not improved in his physical condition, he could not have -stood his share of the work. He had been an athlete at college, not -heavy enough to buck the center on a football team, but a marvelously -speedy end, and a champion at the lighter forms of athletics demanding -agility, alertness, and skill. In his after-college life, athletics had -continued to interest him if desultorily. He was still an A-1 tennis -player and a dashing horseman, but not much else. - -With the hard work, the coarse but substantial food, and at first the -regular hours, he developed amazingly. He got to be as hard as nails. -He had always been a fair boxer. It was a science about which Woywod -knew nothing, and although the mate was twenty pounds heavier and -several inches taller, to say nothing of broader shouldered, than -Beekman, the latter began to feel that in a twenty-foot ring with foul -fighting barred, he could master the officer. There was no possibility -of a meeting of that kind, however, so the two, under the varying -positions of an unusually trying cruise, fought the battle of will and -wit down one ocean and half-way up the other, until the break came, the -marvel being not that it came when it did, but that it had been -postponed so long. - -One of the members of the crew was a young Dutchman named Jacob Wramm. -He was not exactly half-witted. He could hardly be called defective, -even, but he was a dull, slow-thinking, very stupid lad who had been -shipped by the crimp as an A.B., but who would never be rated higher -than a landsman. Beekman, who rapidly learned knot-and-splice -seamanship, and all the ordinary and extraordinary duties of a sailor; -who could get to the main royal yard or the flying jibboom end as -quickly as any man on the ship; who could pass a weather earring in a -howling gale as securely as the most accomplished seaman; who could do -his trick at the wheel and hold her up to her course against a bucking, -jumping head sea with the best quartermaster afloat, endeavored to teach -and train Wramm in the niceties of the sailor's art. He made some -progress with him until Salver caught him instructing the stupid -Dutchman, who was in the second mate's watch. He mentioned it casually -in the cabin to Woywod, and the latter at once found a new object upon -which to vent his spleen and to provoke Beekman. - -It was fortunate for Wramm that he was in the starboard watch. It was -only when all hands were called and Salver went forward, Woywod taking -charge amidships, where Wramm was stationed at the main mast, that he -got a chance at him. The slightest blunder on the part of the Dutchman -was treated as a crime. He was rope's ended, rattaned, kicked, beaten -like a dog. Only a certain slow, stubborn obstinacy and determination -in his disposition kept the unfortunate man from jumping overboard. -Probably if Beekman had been in the same watch with Wramm and both had -been under Woywod's command, something would have happened sooner, but -except when all hands were called, Beekman was never near Wramm, and -even then Beekman's station was aloft in taking in sail. - -Wramm was not trusted on the yards. His duties were at the fife-rails -around the masts where the various ropes which led from above were -belayed. It was a responsible position, but Beekman had gone over and -over every bit of every rope belayed to the iron pins in the fife-rails -with him. When Wramm once got a thing in his head after a slow process, -it was apt to stay there, and the Dutchman finally became letter -perfect. He could put his hands on the various sheets, halliards, -clewlines, buntlines, and others unerringly even in the dark. That is, -he could if he were let alone and not hurried unduly. - -One night, the starboard watch being on deck in the midwatch, at four -bells, or two in the morning, the port watch was called, all hands being -necessary for the taking in of sail. As usual, Captain Fish, annoyed -beyond measure at his bad luck and the head winds, had been holding on -to take advantage of a favorable slant in a whole-sail breeze, which was -developing into a hard gale. He had time and distance to make up and he -was going to lose no opportunity with either. - -As the wind was rising, and the sea, too, he had remained on deck during -Salver's watch, and at one o'clock in the morning the watch had taken in -the royals and the flying jib. At two o'clock the captain, staring up -through the darkness at the jumping, quivering to'gall'nt masts, decided -that the time had come to furl the light canvas and take a double reef -in the tops'ls, in preparation for the blow obviously at hand. He -waited so long, however, before coming to this decision, that he -realized that he had perilously little time left in which to get the -canvas off her without losing a sail or perhaps a spar or two. - -Like every man of his temperament, he held on till the last minute and -then summoned the port watch, which came tumbling up from below at the -call of the boatswain's mate, to find Captain Fish storming on the -bridge at their slowness. Salver went forward to the forecastle to -attend to the foremast. Mr. Woywod, in the natural bad humor that comes -to any one who is awakened from a sound sleep in the only four hours of -that particular night appointed for rest, took charge of the main, while -the captain himself looked out for things aft. The helm was shifted. -The ship forced up into the wind to spill the canvas. The braces were -tended. The sheets were manned. The order was given to round in and -settle away. - -Wramm was the last man to get to his station. The men not stationed at -some place of observation during the watch on deck had snugged down in -such places as they could find for sleep until called. Wramm was a -heavy sleeper. He had not been feeling well and had been awake even -during his watches in the night before. He slept like a log. Woywod -saw that he was not at his place at the main fife-rail. Just before the -order was given for the light yard and topmen to lay aloft and furl and -reef, Woywod, raging like a lion, discovered Wramm sleeping in the lee -scuppers under the main pin-rail. He savagely kicked him awake, dragged -him to his feet, got his hand on his throat, shook him like a rat, and -finally flung him, choked and half-dazed, against the fife-rail, with -orders for him to look alive and stand by or he would get the life -beaten out of him. - -When the order was given to slack away the main to'gall'nt halliards, -the slow-thinking, confused Dutchman made a grievous mistake. He cast -off and eased away the main top'sl halliards, the descent of the yard -began just as the ship fell away a bit under the pressure of a heavy -sea. The main to'gall'nts'l filled again, the men at the lee and weather -braces, supposing everything was right, easing off and rounding in, -respectively, until the yard whirled about, pointing nearly fore and -aft. The starboard to'gall'nt sheet gave way first under the drag of -the main tops'l yard, but not before the tremendous pressure of the wind -had snapped the to'gall'nt mast off at the hounds. There was a crash -above in the darkness. They caught a glimpse of white cloud toppling -overhead and streaming out in the darkness, and then the mast came -crashing down on the lee side of the main top and hung there threshing -wildly about in the fierce wind. - -When the main topmen were sent aloft to clear away the wreck, the tops'l -halliards were belayed and then led along the deck and the tops'l -hoisted again. For once on the cruise Beekman was not at his station, -for the mate, instantly divining what had occurred, as every experienced -man on the ship had done, had leaped to the fife-rail, with a roar of -rage, and had struck the bewildered Dutchman, almost unaware of what had -happened, with a belaying pin, which he drew from the rail, and had -knocked him senseless to the deck. Even as Woywod rapidly belayed the -tops'l halliards, which Wramm had been easing off, he took occasion to -kick the prostrate man violently several times, and one of the kicks -struck him on the jaw and broke it. - -Beekman, stopping with one foot on the sheer pole of the weather main -shrouds, had seen it all. The reason why he had not gone aloft with the -rest was because he had instantly stepped back to the rail, leaped to -the deck, and had run to the prostrate form of poor Wramm, which he had -dragged out of the way of the men, who had seized the halliards at the -mate's call. As it happened, the angry mate had struck harder than he -had intended. Wramm's skull was fractured, his jaw broken, and his body -was covered with bruises from Woywod's brutal assault. - -When the wreck was cleared away, the canvas reduced, the ship made snug, -and the watch below dismissed for the hour of rest that still remained -to them, Woywod came forward. The watch had taken Wramm into the -forecastle and laid him out on his bunk. - -"Where is that"--he qualified Wramm's name with a string of oaths and -expletives, the vileness of which also characterized him typically--"who -caused a perfectly good mainto'gall'nt mast to carry away?" said Woywod, -stopping halfway down the ladder leading into the forepeak. - -There was a low murmur from the watch below, a murmur which was not -articulate, but which nevertheless expressed hate as well as the growl -of a baited animal does. Woywod was no coward. He was afraid of nothing -on earth. Bullies are sometimes that way, in spite of the proverb. It -was Beekman who spoke. - -"He's here, sir," he began, in that smooth, even, cultivated voice which -Woywod hated to hear. "I think his skull is fractured. His jaw is -broken." - -"An' a good thing, too. Perhaps the crack in his thick skull will let -some sense in him." - -"It will probably let life out--sir," answered Beekman, with just an -appreciable pause before the sir. - -"Mutinous, inefficient, stupid hound," said Woywod, but there was a note -of alarm in his voice, which Beekman detected instantly, and which some -of the others suspected. "Show a light here," he continued, coming down -to the deck and bending over the man. "One of you wash the blood off -his face," he said, after careful inspection. "I'll go aft an' git at -the medicine chest. He's too thick headed to suffer any serious hurt. -This'll be a lesson to him, an' to all of you. I'll be back in a few -minutes." - -The mate was really alarmed, although he did his best not to show it. - -"Beg your pardon, sir," said Beekman, "but I want to speak to the -captain." - -"What you got to say to him?" - -"I want to speak to him, sir." - -"You can't do it now. Come to the mast tomorrow." - -"I want to speak to him tonight." - -"Let him speak to the cap'n," shouted Templin, one of the most reliable -men on the ship. - -Instantly, as if given a cue, the whole watch broke into exclamations. - -"We'll all go aft with him to speak to the cap'n." - -"That won't be necessary," said Beekman, quietly, although every nerve -was throbbing with indignation and resentment. "Mr. Woywod will grant -my request. There's no need for the rest of you mixing up in this. -Won't you, Mr. Woywod?" - -Now, Beekman was in his rights in appealing to the captain at any time. -Woywod cast a glance back at the still, unconscious figure of Wramm and -decided that perhaps it would be best for him to temporize. He wanted -to strike Beekman down, and if it had not been for Wramm's condition and -the mutinous outbreak of the men, he would have done so. He realized -instantly what Beekman's popularity meant. - -"If Cap'n Fish ain't turned in," he said, surlily, "and is willin' to -see you, you can speak to him; if not, you'll have to wait till -mornin'." - -"I think it's probable that he's still awake, sir," said Beekman. -"He'll undoubtedly want to know what the condition of Wramm is." - -"I'll tell him." - -"No, I'll tell him myself." - -"You will," shouted Woywod, raising his fist. - -Beekman never moved. The men came crowding around. - -"By sea law," said Templin, "he's got a right to see the master of the -ship, an' we proposes to see that he gits that right." - -"You mutinous dogs," cried Woywod, confronting them. - -But they were not overawed, and they did not give back. - -"Come along," he said to Beekman, "an' you'll be sorry you ever done -it." - -Without looking behind him, he sprang up the ladder and, followed -closely by Beekman, he went aft, descended the companionway, and found -Captain Fish seated at the cabin table, on which a huge joint of cold -meat and bread were spread out, with some bottles and glasses to bear -them company. The captain was not alone. The steward, a Spanish -half-caste, named Manuel, had just brought in a steaming pot of coffee -from the galley. - -"Well, Mr. Woywod," began Fish, "what about that infernal lubber that -caused the loss of the mainto'gall'nt mast?" - -"Smith, here, has come aft demandin' to see you an' p'r'aps he'll tell -you. Will you see him?" - -"What is it, Smith?" said the captain, sharply. - -"Seaman Wramm," began Beekman, "is probably dying. I'm not a doctor, but -so near as I can make out he has a fractured skull; his jaw is certainly -broken and he is covered with bruises." - -"How came he in that condition?" asked the captain. - -"That murdering blackguard yonder struck him over the head with a -belaying pin, kicked him when he was down and--" - -"By God!" cried Woywod, springing forward, "you dare refer to me in that -way?" - -"Steady, Mr. Woywod," said Fish, his eyes gleaming. "I know how to deal -with this man. Are you aware--you pretend to be a gentleman of -education--that your language is in the highest degree mutinous, that I -can have you put in double irons, and--" - -"Am I to stand by and see a poor, helpless, dull-witted man, who has -been hazed to death every day of this cruise by your blackguardly -assessors, beaten to death, killed without a word?" - -"You'd better look out for yourself rather than for him." - -"I don't care what becomes of me. I've had just about enough of it. If -that man dies, I'm going to bring a charge of murder against this -bullying scoundrel, and if you don't put him in irons I'll bring it -against you, too." - -Beekman was beside himself with wrath. His temper was gone. His -control had vanished in thin air. The cumulative repression of three -months had been lost. He stepped forward, shaking his fist in the -captain's face. - -"Manuel," said the captain, "tell Mr. Salver to send a couple of men -down here. Tell him to have the bo's'n fetch me some double irons." -Fish was white with wrath. "Do you think I'll allow any wharf rat like -you to talk like that to me on my own ship? I've no doubt but that -thick-headed Dutchman will recover, but whether he does or not I'll deal -with him. You'll prefer charges against me, will you? By God, you can -count yourself lucky if you're not swinging at a yardarm tomorrow. For -two cents I'd run you up now." - -"With your permission, cap'n," began Woywod. "Keep fast, Manuel, I can -handle him alone. I've been itchin' fer this chance ever since he came -aboard. Now, Smith," he laughed, evilly, "I've got you. I knew you -couldn't keep your temper." - -Woywod stepped toward him. Beekman did not give back an inch. - -"If you lay a hand on me," he shouted, "if I have to die for it the next -minute, I'll--" - -But Woywod, who did not give him a chance to finish the sentence, with -fist upraised leaped forward. Beekman hit him. It was a much more -powerful blow than the first he had delivered to the mate on the day -that he waked up and found himself shanghaied. Three months of hard -work and clean living and plain food had made a different man of him. -Woywod was lucky. He partly parried the blow, but it struck him full on -the chest and drove him smashing back against the bulkhead by the side -of Manuel. The frightened steward hauled him to his feet. - -The captain had arisen and was bawling for the officer of the watch. He -was oblivious to the fact that one of the men was peering down into the -cabin over the combing of the skylight. There was a trample of feet on -the deck above. Salver himself appeared on the companion ladder, but -Woywod had got to his feet. He was black with rage, mad with passion. -He reached into the side pocket of his short peajacket and drew forth a -heavy revolver. - -"You're witnesses that he struck me," he cried, as he raised the weapon, -but again Beekman was too quick for him. - -A big, broad-bladed carving knife was lying by the side of a piece of -salt beef on the table. Beekman clutched it, and as Woywod pulled the -trigger, he leaped forward and buried it to the hilt in the mate's -breast. - - - - - *CHAPTER X* - - *THE MYSTERY OF THE LAST WORDS* - - -So powerful was the stroke, so deep and inveterate the hate that nerved -the arm, that the sharp knife was driven clear to the handle into -Woywod's breast. The big mate threw up his arms. He staggered back. -The pistol went off harmlessly and dropped on the table. Then the huge -hulk of the stricken man collapsed on the deck. Quick as a flash -Captain Fish leaned over and seized the weapon. - -"Make a move an' you're a dead man," he roared, covering Beekman. "Mr. -Salver, I'll keep Smith covered with this pistol until you get the -double irons on him. Log a charge of mutiny an' murder against him. If -he resists, you can go to any length to subdue him. I wouldn't like him -killed aboard ship, however. I'd rather see him hanged ashore." - -Salver grabbed Beekman by the shoulder. - -"You, Manuel, go to his assistance," said Fish, still keeping him -covered. "You infernal coward," he added to the steward, who was as -white as death and trembling like a weather brace in a heavy wind; "he -can't do you no harm. If he moves I'll put a bullet through him." - -But Beekman had no desire to do any one any harm. The blow that had let -life out of Woywod had let the passion out of Beekman. He stood staring -and bending over, he caught the man's last broken words. - -"Done--for--Tell Harnash--I--" and then silence. - -Captain Fish came around the table as soon as Mr. Salver had got a firm -grip on one of Beekman's arms and the steward had gingerly taken the -other. Shoving the pistol close into Beekman's ribs, he ordered the -three men on deck. A passing glance at Woywod told the captain that his -mate was dead. He could attend to him later. Beekman must be secured -first. - -The boatswain had been awakened, and, according to orders, he now came -aft with the irons. Beekman was handcuffed and irons were put on his -ankles. He was searched rapidly. His sailor's sheath knife was taken -from him and then-- - -"Where'll we stow him, sir?" asked Mr. Salver. - -There was no "brig," as a prison is called on a man-o'-war, on the -_Susquehanna_. Forward a little room had been partitioned off on one -side of the ship abaft the forecastle for the boatswain. On the -opposite side there was another similar cabin occupied by the carpenter -and sailmaker. The captain thought a moment. - -"Mr. Gersey," he said, at last, "you'll come aft to take the second -mate's watch. Mr. Salver will act as the mate. Clear your belongings -out of your cabin. We'll stow him there for the present. Take a couple -of men to help you shift aft, an' be quick about it. When he's safely -locked in bring me the key. There's been mutiny an' murder aboard my -ship," he continued, loudly, for the benefit of the watch. "This dog -has put a knife in Mr. Woywod's heart. Not a thing was bein' done to -him. We were jest reasonin' with him, treatin' him kind, as we do every -man on this ship. Manuel, here, can swear to that, can't you?" - -"Yes, sir, of course, sir," cringed the steward, who was completely -under the domination of the brutal ship-master. - -"I'll prepare a proper statement and enter it in the log, to be signed -by the steward and myself, in case anything should happen to us," he -continued. - -"What'll I do with this man, sir, while we're waitin' for Mr. Gersey to -git his cabin cleaned out?" asked Salver. - -"Lash him to the bridge yonder. I'll keep my eyes on him until you git -him safe in the bo's'n's cabin. See that the door is locked yourself -personally, and bring me the key. Understand?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"We don't dare to take no chances with such a desperate murderer." - -"No, sir; of course not." - -"Men," shouted the captain, "you heard what's been said?" - -"We did, sir; an' we seen it all from the beginnin'," answered a voice -out of the darkness, a voice full of ugly threat and menace, which the -captain did not recognize and thought best to pass unnoticed. - -"Poor Mr. Woywod's been killed, you understand. Mr. Salver will take -his place as mate of the ship. Mr. Gersey will come aft as second mate, -to be obeyed and respected accordin'." - -"Damn good riddance," yelled another voice out of the darkness, -carefully disguised. - -This was too much. He could not overlook a remark of this kind, and yet -in the black night there was little he could do, since the speaker was -unrecognizable. - -"Who said that?" blustered the captain, handling his pistol and peering -forward. - -There was no answer, of course. - -"If the man who made that remark dares to repeat it in daylight, I'll -cut his heart out. An' if I hear any more such talk, I'll let fly at -the bunch of you as it is. Get for'ard an' to your stations." - -The unknown commentator had obviously expressed the prevalent opinion -aboard the ship on the death of Mr. Woywod. There was nothing else to -be said or done then. The captain's orders were carried out as a matter -of course. The excited men dispersed without comment, but with a feeling -that all the honors were with them. The boatswain came aft, having -stripped his cabin. The prisoner was finally locked therein and left to -himself. Bread and water were handed to him sufficient to keep life in -him and not much else. The ship was hove to and Woywod was buried the -next morning with due ceremony, the captain himself reading the service, -the whole crew being mustered in due form, but never a man was shot down -into the vasty deep with less of the spirit of prayer and forgiveness -following him than the mate who had met his just deserts, if the looks -of the crew, to which the captain was perforce oblivious, gave any -indication of their feelings. - -Beekman's reflections could easily be imagined. To his dying day he -would never forget the surprised, puzzled look on the mate's face, the -change of his countenance from mad passion to astonishment, from that -amazement to pain, to horror, to deadly fear! He would never forget the -convulsive struggle of the man on the deck at his feet, the white bone -handle of the knife sticking out of his breast and shining in the light -of the big hanging lamp against his blue shirt. There was a human life -on his hands, calloused and hardened as they were. There was blood upon -them. Had the blood been shed righteously? Had he been well advised to -give way to his passion? Had the fact that he had gone there in behalf -of another, a helpless weakling, dying himself from the ruthless -treatment meted out to him, entitled him to take the mate's life? Would -the mate have shot him with that pistol? Was it self-defense? Had that -only been back of his blow and his thrust? - -Beekman had to admit that he hated the mate; that he had lusted to kill -him. He realized in the flash of time that had intervened between the -blow and the thrust that he had been glad of the excuse. Was he a -murderer in the eyes of the law, in his own consciousness, in his heart? -He had killed the mate, but the mate had beaten him in the long struggle -between them. He had sworn that the latter should not provoke him, but -he had done so and now he was in peril of his life, grave peril. The -presumption of guilt is always against the sailor in charges of mutiny. -It would require the strongest evidence to establish his innocence. He -knew of no witnesses, save the captain and the steward. The steward was -one man on the ship whom he had not won. Indeed, having most of his -relations aft and living there in a bunk off his pantry, the steward was -hated by the men. He was a tale-bearer and a sneak. He had to live aft -for his own protection. He was purely a creature of the captain's. He -would swear to anything the captain dictated. Beekman knew that, of -course. - -Before he had been bound to the ladder of the bridge Beekman had heard -what the captain had said. The crew, of course, could testify as to -Woywod's character, but he knew enough of sailors to realize they would -scatter as soon as they could get away from the ship. He could scarcely -depend upon them. There was old Gersey, but what could he do? What -could he hope from the Russian authorities at Vladisvostok? The captain -would be hand and glove with them, naturally. Things looked black for -Beekman. - -After a time, reviewing again all the scenes of the dreadful drama his -mind reverted to those final words of Woywod's. He remembered them -perfectly. They were etched upon his brain. - -"Done for. Tell Harnash I--" - -He repeated those words. The first two were clear. But the last -three-- - -"Tell Harnash I--" - -Tell Harnash what? Why tell Harnash anything? What did he have to do -with the present situation? Harnash was his friend. Harnash had -arranged his bachelor dinner. Harnash had jokingly plied him with wine, -but so had the others. Beekman was an abstemious, temperate chap. He -drank occasionally, in a moderate way, but never to excess. It was -Harnash who had taken the lead in urging him. He had gone out from that -dinner in the small hours of the morning with Harnash, and the last -person he remembered was Harnash. Could Harnash have-- - -Good God, no! It was impossible. It could not be. Such treachery, such -criminality was unthinkable by a loyal man like Beekman. There was no -motive for it. The business affairs of the firm were prosperous. At -his partner's insistence an expert had gone over the books on his return -from Hawaii. There was not a thing wrong. He would have trusted -Harnash with everything he owned, and with right. He could not have -wanted to get him out of the way, unless-- - -Why had Harnash looked so haggard and miserable? Why had Stephanie -presented the same countenance? Could those two-- He would not think -it. Yet what could Woywod have meant? - -Suddenly Beekman remembered that he had heard Harnash had a sailor -friend, who at infrequent intervals was accustomed to visit him. There -had been some reference to it. Beekman had never heard the man's name, -and he never chanced to have met him. Woywod had never referred to -Harnash in Beekman's hearing on that cruise until those faltered words -as he died. Could it be Woywod? It must. Was it merely chance that -Beekman had fallen into the hands of Harnash's friend on the very night -before his wedding, when his last companion had been Harnash himself? -Now, Beekman was an intensely loyal man and he resolutely put these -suspicions out of his mind, but they would not stay out. Why should -Woywod stare up at him with fast closing eyes as he spoke? Did Woywod -know who Beekman was? Were those muttered words an admission? By -heaven, could it be that Harnash was in love with Stephanie and she with -him? - -When Beekman asked himself that question he began to go over the times -in which he had seen the two together. Little things, unnoticed and -unmarked before now, grew strangely significant. Beekman loathed -himself for entertaining the suspicions. It was not possible, yet-- -Could Stephanie herself be a party to it? That, too, was unthinkable. -So it was that Harnash-- Yet those words! Well, if he could get out of -this horrible situation now, so much worse than it had been, he -certainly would tell Harnash and Harnash should tell him. Meanwhile, -there was added to his horror and regret the fact that Woywod was dead -and that he had killed him. - -A strange and terrible reality, that, to this sometime dilettante in -life. - - - - - *CHAPTER XI* - - *THE TRIANGLE BECOMES A QUADRILATERAL* - - -Perhaps no one ever realizes so completely the immensity of the world -and the littleness of man as he who is alone on the face of the waters. -The deep becomes indeed vasty when seen from a small boat in the center -of an unbroken horizon. It is a question whether the loneliness of the -desert is greater than the loneliness of the sea. Perhaps it depends -upon the thinker and his temperament. There is, of course, life in the -sea in that it is usually quick, in motion, and there is sound that -accompanies it. - -The desert is still, but in the desert you can get somewhere. You know -that beyond the horizon is some place. Not even the flattest land but -suggests change as it is traversed. Somewhere within reaching distance -hills rise, mountains lift themselves in the air, oases beckon -attractively. In the sea you may go for days and days and days, each -day like the other, and still find only the waste of waters and the -unbroken horizon. - -Beekman had sailed every one of the seven seas, but in some luxurious -yacht or some mighty ocean liner. This was the first time in his life -he had ever been alone in a small boat. Even the _Susquehanna_ had long -since faded out of his view. The lights from her stern windows had been -lost during the night, and when day broke, although he eagerly searched -the northwest, there was no sign of her. Not even when he rose high on -some uptossed wave could he catch a glimpse of a to'gall'nts'l or a -royal against the blue line of the horizon. - -He was glad and he was sorry to be alone. The gladness manifested -itself presently, but at first he was overwhelmed by the sense of -loneliness. The crew of the _Susquehanna_ had not mutinied openly, but -they had taken matters in their own hands and had done the best they -could for the man who had relieved them, whether righteously or -unrighteously they did not stop to speculate, from a tyranny that had -become unsupportable; because, in his animosity to Beekman, Woywod had -been harder than ever before on the rest. - -They had deliberately, if surreptitiously, provisioned the whaleboat -which hung from the davits astern. They had filled her water breakers, -had added a compass, had overhauled her mast and sail, had thrown in a -couple of blankets, a tarpaulin, an axe and some tools and whatever else -they could come at, including a little bag of silver dollars from their -own scanty store, which might prove valuable in the end. They had done -this very quietly in the darkness, under the leadership of Templin on -the night following the death of the mate. - -They had chosen Mr. Gersey's watch for their operations and he had been -conveniently blind. Possessing themselves of the carpenter's tools, -they had bored holes around the lock of the boatswain's room and had -freed Beekman. With cold chisels and hammers they had struck the -fetters from his wrists and ankles, grievously cutting him and bruising -him in the process. - -"Mr. Gersey told us," said Templin to the astonished prisoner, "that he -heard the old man an' Salver plottin' the ship's position at noon today. -There are islands with white people on 'em about a hundred leagues to -the west'ard. The course'll be about sou'west-by-west. We've -pervisioned the whaleboat. She's unsinkable, with her airtight tanks -for'ard an' aft an' a good sailer. I follered you aft, pertendin' to -overhaul the gear on the mizzen mast last night. Through the skylight I -seen the mate threatenin' you with a pistol in the cabin. We all -believes you done perfectly right. Wramm's dead. Died tonight, without -never regainin' consciousness. Woywod was a murderer, if ever there was -one, an' he got his jest desarts. We don't want to mutiny an' git hung -for it. Some of us has families. But we don't mean you to suffer. The -only way to save you is to git you out of the ship afore we lands at -Vladivostok. It seemed to us that a good sailor like you could easily -make them islands, an' then you can shift for yourself. It's a big -world. They'll never find you again. Here," he added, "is a little bag -o' dollars." He passed a bulging little bag into the hands of the -astonished Beekman. "'Tain't much, but it's all we got. I guess that's -all." - -"But I don't want to leave the ship." - -"You'll be hung at the end of the v'yage if you don't," said Templin, -inexorably. "Them Russians ain't more'n half civilized, anyway, an' -they'll do pretty much as the cap'n says. This is your only chance." - -"Does Gersey know?" - -"Of course. He's the one that made the whole plan, only the officers -ain't to know that." - -"You don't expect to be able to lower that boat and cast it adrift -without attracting attention, do you?" - -"In course not, but it's a dark night an' we're goin' to git you down -an' afloat, whatever happens." - -"But the captain will immediately come after me." - -"He can't brace the yards hisself an' work the ship alone with only -Salver an' the bo's'n, can he?" - -"I see, but I don't want to get you in trouble." - -"Every man on the ship 'ceptin' the steward is with you, an' we're -simply not goin' to let him hang you." - -"Templin, I want you to remember two names and an address." - -"What are they?" - -"Harnash and Beekman, 33 Broadway, New York." - -"That's easy," said Templin, repeating the words. "Why?" - -"That's my address when I'm home. If I ever get home and any of you men -want a friend, come there. I want you to pass that around among the -crew, every one of them. You fellows didn't believe me, but now that I'm -going I want to tell you for the last time my story is true, and if you -want to be fixed for life, just come and see me there." - -"Well, I hopes you gits there, Smith, or--" - -"Beekman." - -"Beekman, then." - -"And I, and I, and I," was heard from the various members of the watch -gathered about and speaking in low tones. - -"Now, come aft," said Templin, "an' tread soft. There's no use arousin' -the old man if we can help it. Only needs four of us to overhaul the -gear an' lower away," continued the ringleader, picking out three -associates. "The rest of you git down in the shadder of the rail on the -lee side of the waist near the bridge. Mr. Gersey is keepin' a bright -lookout to windward. If you hear any noise, come aft on the run." - -Without making a sound, Beekman and his four devoted friends passed -under the bridge, crouching down in the shadow of the lee rail until -they were well aft and sheltered from observation by the broad canvas of -the spanker. Mr. Gersey was on the other side of the bridge, staring -hard forward and up to windward in the most approved fashion. - -"You'll find everything ready for steppin' the mast an' spreadin' sail," -whispered Templin. "The sea's fairly smooth, the wind's blowin' from -the east'ard. You'd better git the canvas on her soon's you can. You -hadn't ought to be in sight of us at daybreak." - -"What time is it now?" - -Three bells were struck forward at the moment, a couplet and then a -single bell. - -"Three bells, you hears," answered Templin. "You'll have three hours, -and with you goin' one way an' us another, we'll be out of sight before -daybreak. Remember, your course is sou'west-by-west." - -"I shan't forget that or anything. When you have a chance bid Gersey -good-bye for me and tell him not to forget the cable. God only knows -where I'll turn up or when I'll get back, but when I do--well, remember -what I said, Harnash and Beekman, 33 Broadway, New York." - -He shook Templin's hand and nodded to the other three and stepped into -the boat. - -"Lower away," whispered Templin. - -Now the night was quiet. The breeze was not strong. The creaking of the -falls, since the sailors had taken precaution to grease them, was -reduced to a minimum; still, some sound was made. Gersey had kept his -eyes steadily forward, although he knew, of course, everything that was -happening. He glanced around just as the whaleboat disappeared below -the rail. - -As luck would have it, Captain Fish, who slept, of course, in the stern -cabin, happened to be wakeful. With an ear trained and accustomed to -all the ordinary noises of the ship, anything out of common raised his -suspicions. He heard the slight creaking. He sat up in his berth and -listened. The noise came from aft, overhead. He ran to the stern -window and peered through the open transom just at the moment that the -keel of the descending whaleboat came on a level with the window. Fish -slept with a revolver under his pillow. He leaped back, grabbed the -pistol, jumped to the transom again to find himself staring into the -face of Beekman. - -"Keep fast those falls," he roared, presenting his pistol. - -Beekman was standing up in the boat, fending her off from the stern with -a boathook. Fish had turned on the electric light--the _Susquehanna_ -was provided with a dynamo--and he was clearly visible. Beekman struck -his arm with the boathook, knocking the pistol into the sea. The next -instant there was a sudden roar on the deck above from Gersey, who -judged that it was now safe to give the alarm. This outcry was followed -by the trampling of many feet and a swift rush of the falls through the -blocks. There was no necessity for concealment now. Templin and his -men lowered the boat with a run. - -Beekman worked smartly. As soon as the boat was water-borne he cast off -the tackles and began tugging frantically at the mast. With seamanlike -care, it had been so arranged that what had been almost an impossible -task for one man in a hurry he could easily accomplish. The -_Susquehanna_ was sailing at a smart rate and she had drawn some -distance ahead before Captain Fish reached the deck. He was in a -towering rage. - -"Mr. Gersey," he roared, "what does this mean, sir? The prisoner has -escaped, an' in your watch?" - -"I know it, sir," answered Gersey. "The men have got out of hand, sir." - -"They have," exclaimed Fish. He had mounted half-way up the -accommodation ladder of the bridge. Although he was unarmed and clad -only in his pajamas, he did not hesitate on that account. - -"I'll see about that," he roared. "I'll have no mutiny on my ship." He -ran toward the group seen blackly against the white rail aft, shouting, -"The man that did this will swing for it." - -"Scatter," cried a voice. - -The group instantly dissolved in the darkness of the deck. Fish made a -grab at the nearest one, but a man behind him ran violently into him. -He lost his hold. In a moment the quarter deck was deserted. The -_Susquehanna_ on her present course had the wind broad abeam. - -"Mr. Gersey," roared the captain, "call all hands and stand by to wear -ship. We must pick up that boat with that murdering mutineer aboard." - -"Aye, aye, sir. For'ard there. Call the other watch." - -Now the other watch was awake and waiting. Some of them, indeed, had -participated in the affair of the night. Scarcely had the boatswain's -mate sounded the call, when the watch below came tumbling up from the -forecastle. Mr. Salver also joined the group on the bridge, rubbing his -eyes sleepily. The captain took charge himself. - -"Hands to the weather braces," he cried, "ease off the spanker sheet. -Flatten in the head sails for'ard. Hard up with the helm." - -Not a man on the deck stirred. No one ran to the weather braces. No -one cast off the lee braces. The helmsman remained immobile. The -spanker sheet was not eased off. The sheets of the head sails were not -hauled aft. The captain stared a moment in astonishment. - -"Wear ship," he cried, "don't you hear me?" - -"We heerd you," answered a voice out of the darkness, "but we're not -goin' to wear the ship." - -"You refuse to obey orders?" - -"We'll obey all other orders, same as we have allus done, but we don't -propose to pick up that there whaleboat." - -"Who spoke?" roared the captain. - -There was a movement in the groups of men in the darkness. Templin's -voice, well disguised, came first from one side of the deck to the -other, as he moved about while he spoke. - -"You might as well make up your mind to it, Cap'n Fish. We're determined -that no harm is to come to Smith. He's gone. For the rest, we'll work -the ship to Vladisvostok, which we signed on for. You'll find us -obeyin' orders same as ever in the mornin'." - -Captain Fish was black with rage. - -"Mr. Gersey," he roared, "do you know anything about this?" - -"Not a thing, sir." - -"We done it ourselves," came up from the waist. - -"Keep fast the braces," said the captain at last; "keep her on her -course." - -Inasmuch as she had never been off her course and the braces had not -been touched, the commands were useless. They were simply given to save -the captain's face a little. - -"Mr. Salver," he continued, "it's your watch below. I want to speak to -you in the cabin. Pipe down the watch off, Mr. Gersey. We'll settle -this matter in the morning." - -But the captain knew and the men knew that the matter was already -settled. If the men hung together there was no way by which the captain -could discover the ringleader. And he could not imprison the whole -ship's company. They had beaten him. The flight had been carefully -planned and carried out in a bold and seamanlike way. - -"You've beat me," said the captain the next morning to the crew as the -watches were changed, "but there's a standin' offer of five hundred -dollars for any one who'll gimme the details an' the names of the -ringleaders. Meanwhile, if any one of you gives me the least cause I'll -shoot him like a dog. Mr. Salver an' Mr. Gersey are both armed like -me," he tapped the heavy revolver hanging at his waist, "so look out for -yourselves. I've no doubt some of you'll squeal. I'll find out yet. -God help the men that did it when I do." - -The captain's bribe was a large one. There were men in the forecastle -who would have jumped at it, but a very clear realization of what would -be meted out to them by their fellows if they turned traitor, kept them -quiet. The loyal men among the mutineers knew pretty well who were to -be suspected and kept close watch on them. - -Beekman knew nothing of all that, of course, the next morning as he made -his meager breakfast. He did not know how long it would take him to -reach those islands, the very name of which he was ignorant, and it -behooved him to husband his resources. After his breakfast he laid his -course by the compass. The breeze held steady. All he had to do was to -steer the boat. At nightfall he decided to furl sail and drift. For -one thing he needed the sleep. - -The next day, however, the breeze came stronger. It gradually shifted -from the southeast toward the north. He reefed the sail down until it -barely showed a scrap of canvas and drove ahead of it. There was no -sleep for him through the night. He did not dare to leave the boat to -her own devices in that wind and sea. The wind rose with every hour. -The next morning it was blowing a howling gale from the northeast. He -could no longer keep sail on the boat. He could not row against it. -Fortunately, he had foreseen the situation. He unstepped the mast and -unshipped the yard with which he pried up some of the seats and with -these and spare oars he made himself a serviceable sea anchor, which he -attached to the boat's painter forward, cast overboard, and by this -means drifted with the storm being at the same time wet, cold, lonely, -and very miserable. He knew the boat was a lifeboat; its air tanks would -keep it from sinking, but if it ever fell into the trough of the sea it -would be rolled over and over like a cork. It would fill with water and -refill in spite of his constant bailing. He could only trust to his sea -anchor to keep the boat's head to the huge seas by which it was -alternately uplifted and cast down in vast, prodigious motion. Had it -not been provided with those air tanks the boat would have been swamped -inevitably. - -His provisions got thoroughly wetted. One of the water breakers was -torn from its lashing and the same wave that worked that damage dashed -it against the other, staving it in. His boat compass and tools were -swept away. Only what was in the lockers forward and aft remained. The -boat was swept clean. He had bailed as long as he had strength, but -even the bailing tin finally disappeared. At last he sank down -exhausted. The waves beat over him. The seas rolled him from side to -side. He had strength enough to lash himself to the aftermost thwart -before he fell into a state of complete collapse. - -So he drifted on through the night. Toward morning the gale blew itself -out. The next day the sun rose in a cloudless sky. The breeze -subsided. The seas still rose mightily, but he knew that if no more -wind came they would presently subside. He swallowed some of the -sodden, hard bread in the forward locker for breakfast and then with the -top of an empty biscuit tin from the same place he made shift to free -the boat of water, at least sufficiently so for her to rise on the waves -of the still rough and tumbling seas. He was too exhausted to get in -his sea anchor. Indeed, so many things had carried away that he could -not have stepped the mast or spread the sail. The canvas itself was -gone with his blankets and tarpaulin. He could not use the oars. He -could only drift. - -How many days he sat in that boat under that burning sun he could not -tell. Where he drifted as it fell dead calm he did not know. If he had -been less crazed by the awful heat of the unshaded sun and the more -awful thirst which made him forget his hunger--he simply could not -swallow the hard, dry bread and the salt meat after a time--he might -have kept a sort of dead reckoning. He was too weak even to take -bearings by sun or stars. Not a sail, not the smoke of a steamer, met -his burning stare--his eyes were hot, blazing in their sockets like the -sun overhead, he fancied--around him as day after day he surveyed that -ever unbroken horizon, himself a dot in the center of a vast periphery -of emptiness. - -He lost track of the days, of course. As he thought of it afterward it -seemed to him that he went mad. The only concrete fact that finally -came to him was at the darkest hour of a certain night that closed what -he had felt must be his last day. He was conscious of a violent shock. -It seemed to him that the boat had struck something. There was a swift -motion of rebound, a splashing of water over him, another heavy forward -surge, another shock, a crash as of splintering timber, and then all the -motion ceased. All around him was a strange roaring. He was too feeble -to speculate as to what had happened. He could only wait for the dawn. - -The first gray of morning brought him a faint hope of life. The light -of day showed him the whaleboat, her bottom hopelessly shattered, caught -firmly on a rocky reef. Around him, once in a while over him, great -waves were breaking; the whole mighty Pacific sweeping down from the -line falling in crashing assault upon this barrier of jagged stones. -Back of him was the sea--unbroken to the horizon--over which he had -come. In front of him stretched a space of still water. On the other -side of this lagoon rose huge, precipitous rocks, bare, gaunt, -forbidding. As he stood up tremblingly and peered beneath his hand he -thought he could detect at the foot of these mighty cliffs a stretch of -golden sand. - -Even with the inspiration of land at last and probable food and drink it -was difficult in his lack of strength to wrench loose a shattered plank. -Still, by desperate effort he accomplished that at last. With that to -buoy him up he stumbled across the reef and launched into the smooth -waters of the lagoon. The swim would have been nothing under ordinary -circumstances, but in his terrible prostration, even with the aid of the -plank, it was a long, difficult passage. Half a dozen times he was on -the point of throwing up his hands and going under, but something--love -of life, hope indestructible, eternal, remains of determination, -instinctive unwillingness to acknowledge himself beaten--kept him up. -He pressed on through the smooth waters of the lagoon. Finally his feet -touched the strand. Standing trembling but triumphant a few moments to -recover himself, he staggered across it. - -He discovered as he did so an opening in the rock concealed previously -from him by an overlap of the cliff. The rift in the cliff wall was -perhaps thirty yards wide. It could only be seen from one direction. -The waters of the lagoon ran inward through it. The sand narrowed and -stopped at the opening. From, that beach he could not see within. -Climbing a little distance up the edge of the cliff and peering around -it, he saw at the end of the inlet a deep bay, a harbor roughly -circular, perhaps half a mile in diameter. He surveyed it long and -carefully in the half light which made it impossible to see clearly. - -As nearly as he could guess the height of the cliffs ranged from three -hundred to five hundred feet. In niches and shelves here and there a -few bits of green appeared. The tops of the cliffs seemed as bare as -the sides. No way to surmount them appeared. Sometimes they ran -straight down into the deep, dark water. At the base of the walls here -and there were little stretches of sand. The place was still dark and -gloomy, and somehow terrible. The sunlight had not penetrated into it -yet; would not, he judged, for some time, or until the sun got into -exactly the right position to shine through that narrow opening. - -An unusual mental alertness had taken the place of his lethargy. Hope -had made the change. He must, first of all, find water, then food, and -then he must reach the top of the cliffs. On the other side of the -shoulder of wall where he stood ran one of the stretches of sand. How -could he get around that shoulder and pass through that opening? He did -not dare to attempt to swim around it yet. He must climb over it. -Painfully, with ebbing strength but with growing hope, he managed at the -imminent risk of his life to climb around the point and finally set foot -upon that narrow strip of sand. He looked back only to find the wall -behind him rising sheer above his head, just as the walls opposite had. -It was like being imprisoned in a vast tower, one side of which had been -riven from top to bottom. And the dark, forbidding gloom oppressed him -still more. The morning was still, there was no breeze in that enclosed -place, but he shivered nevertheless and would have given anything for -human companionship. He even tried to cry aloud to break the appalling -stillness, but no sound came from cracked lips and parched, constricted -throat. Was he to fail, having come so far? - -In frantic terror he broke into a feeble run aimlessly forward. -Rounding another jut of the wall, he saw that which meant life--a -slender stream of water falling in long, broken leaps from the top to -the bottom of the wall. It had cut a channel through the sand and was -lost in the bay. At the sight, strange to say, his strength left him. -Fear had drawn him on and now fear and everything else were forgot. He -fell to his knees, but still had strength and determination to crawl on. -At last he reached it, fell on his face, and drank. It needed all his -resolution, all his courage, all his mental and physical power not to -drink and die. He knew he must drink sparingly and he did so. - -When he had satisfied his thirst by slow degrees, he sat down on the -sand to consider his situation. The cool, sweet water put new life into -him. He was suddenly conscious of a terrible, gripping hunger, but the -first and greatest of his needs had been satisfied. There must be some -way to the top of those cliffs. Where there was fresh water there must -be life. No island in the south seas could be so lonely, so -sequestered, so unvisited as not to have a life and vegetation of its -own. Wherever there was water and earth, especially in those latitudes, -were to be found the kindly fruits thereof. - -He decided that he would go back to the whaleboat, that he would get -what crumbs that were left of the hard bread that he had been unable to -eat and the remaining scraps of the salt meat that had choked him. He -could swallow them now. Then he would come back and after he had been -strengthened by his meal he would examine every foot of the cliffs to -find a way upward. Meanwhile, he would rest a little. He threw himself -down on the sand on his back and stared upward. As he did so he noticed -the sun had reached such a position that it shone full through the -entrance, suddenly illuminating the whole gloomy tower with light and -changing the entire aspect of it. - -He put his hand behind him to raise himself, intending to take advantage -of the flood of light, which he saw would be there but for a short time, -for a further inspection of the place. But his eyes were still cast -upward. In the center of his vision the top of the cliff cut the -brightening sky. Suddenly, as if formed instantly out of thin air, over -the edge appeared a human figure. This figure was poised upon the very -highest point of the towerlike wall, and was staring seaward through the -great rift. - -In the clear air and the bright sunlight he had not the slightest -difficulty in discerning details. Perhaps his sight was sharpened by -his anxiety and desire. - -The figure was that of a woman and her skin was whiter than his own! - - - - - *BOOK II* - - *"An' they talks a lot o' lovin', - But wot do they understand?"* - - - - *CHAPTER XII* - - *THE HARDEST OF CONFESSIONS* - - -Six months after the departure of the _Susquehanna_ with its unwilling -member of the crew, Harnash found himself in a position of advantage far -beyond his wildest dream. The active search for Beekman had of -necessity been abandoned long since, although the authorities still kept -the matter in view. No one had yet connected his disappearance with the -_Susquehanna_ because her clearance papers had been taken out the day -before, although her actual sailing had been delayed. She had slipped -away unmarked in the early dawn, under her own canvas, the wind being -favorable, and as Captain Fish knew the channel well she had even -dispensed with the pilot. - -In the search and the negotiations connected with it George Harnash had -been thrown rather intimately and closely with John Maynard. There had -been no business associations between them at first, but Maynard's -growing appreciation of the ability of Harnash, which was very -considerable, was heightened by a rather brilliant coup which the young -man pulled off and from which Maynard suffered; not seriously, of -course, from Maynard's point of view, although the results were of a -very considerable financial gain to Harnash. - -Now there was none of the mean spirit of revenge in Maynard. It was his -policy to convert a brilliant enemy into a friend, if possible. Of -course, some enemies were too big for that purpose, and those Maynard -fought to a finish. Harnash was not in that category. Maynard was -getting along in years. The excitement of battle had begun somewhat to -pall upon him. He loved fighting for its own sake, but he had fought so -long and so hard and so successfully that he was willing to withdraw -gradually from the more active conflict, leaving warfare to youth, to -which indeed it appertains. - -Among the young men he gathered around him there was none who stood -quite as high in his good graces as Harnash. No suspicion of the love -affair between Harnash and Stephanie had arisen in the old man's mind, -but he was not unaware that Stephanie greatly liked the young man. At -first he had thought that the liking had developed from the other man's -affection for Beekman. - -Against that young man his resentment grew hotter and hotter. The -police scouted the conclusion that Beekman was dead. His case, they -alleged, was just one of the many mysterious disappearances from New -York, most of which were eventually explained. There was not a scrap of -evidence anywhere to account for Beekman's disappearance. Probably the -labels had been torn from his clothing before it had been disposed of, -if it had been sold. His watch case might have been melted down for old -gold, obviously, if it had not accompanied him. At any rate, the works -had not been traced. And no pawn shop or fence yielded the slightest -clew to any other jewelry. The great reward still standing brought no -information whatever. - -Maynard was finally convinced that Beekman had deliberately run away -from his daughter, and the world also accepted that solution. Only -Harnash and Stephanie knew the contrary. Seeing them so much together, -it had often occurred to Maynard that possibly Harnash might succeed in -consoling his daughter. It was not on that account, however, that he -took him into business after three months of association and finally -made him his personal representative and confidential man. - -Now Harnash had been unremitting in his attentions to Stephanie. She -did not hesitate to avow her affection to him and to continue in that -avowal, but she had not receded an inch from her position that before -Harnash could even speak to her father, and certainly before he could -claim her, Beekman must be found and his consent gained. - -Harnash had concealed nothing from the woman he loved except what he had -done with Beekman. He met her refusal to marry him with a refusal to -reveal that. In keeping that secret he was as obstinate in his way as -she was in hers. Of course, Harnash would ultimately be compelled to -tell the whole story, and as the months slipped by and the time of the -arrival of the _Susquehanna_ at Vladivostok, where she would be in cable -communication with the rest of the world, approached he naturally grew -more and more apprehensive and showed it to Stephanie's keen and -searching eyes, at least. - -When Maynard trusted a man he trusted him all in all. It was a part of -his policy. If a man were not worth trusting he did not want him around -and he did not have him around, as a matter of fact. Therefore among -other duties devolved upon the new confidential assistant was the -opening of the great financier's mail. Harnash had never made up his -mind just what he should do when the necessity for confession and -explanation was presented. He had tried to plan his course, but so much -depended upon circumstances that he had always put the decision by. -Stephanie loved him--and it was easy to see that her passion for him was -growing and that it almost matched his own--but she was a high spirited -girl with certain unspoiled notions of right and wrong, and with a -certain amount of her father's unyielding firmness which made her -conduct in the threatening emergency something of a problem. - -The problem changed from the abstract to the concrete one morning about -a half year after that bachelor dinner. The _Susquehanna_ was overdue at -Vladivostok. From the shipping experts in the Inter-Oceanic Trading -Company Harnash had found that out and it had greatly increased his -anxiety by giving it a new turn--suppose something had befallen the -ship? Every day of delay added to his mental distress. And although -the shipping people manifested no special apprehension--ships were often -longer overdue, especially sailing ships--Harnash grew more and more -uneasy. - -One morning while he was going over the mail at the office prior to -Maynard's arrival a messenger boy brought in a cable from Honolulu. He -signed for it, dismissed the boy, and without the slightest apprehension -tore open the envelope. This is the message that stared at him: - - -Regret to report _Susquehanna_ burned at sea, sunk by explosion of -cargo. Third officer and six survivors landed here yesterday in small -boat. Captain refused to abandon ship. One other boat got away, -probably lost. Cable instructions. - - -It was signed by Smithfield, the agent of the Inter-Oceanic Trading -Company in the Hawaiian Islands. One glance, one horrified inspection -stamped the facts on Harnash's brain and consciousness. The -_Susquehanna_ was lost with all her people except the third officer and -six men; that meant Woywod too. Was Beekman among those six, or had -Harnash sent him to his death? Could he have been in the other boat? -Was there a chance that it would turn up? Somehow Harnash jumped at a -conviction, of which he could not disabuse his mind, that Beekman was -among the missing. This he had not planned. That it could happen he -had never dreamed, even remotely. - -Now Harnash faced the greatest temptation of his life. He was quick -enough to see that if Woywod and Beekman had been lost, in all -probability the secret would never be known and all he had to do was to -say nothing to be safe. But Harnash had never liked Beekman so much as -at that very moment. Forgetful for the time being even of Stephanie, -his mind reverted to their college associations, their subsequent -business career, the unfailing courtesy and kindness and trust which -Beekman, high-placed and rich, had extended to him, relatively humble -and poor, his cordial cooperation and confidence, his help. While -Harnash was the business and brains of the firm, he could have -accomplished little without Beekman. - -He recalled the genial, pleasant humor of his friend, the good times -they had enjoyed together, and as he did so he put his head in his hands -and groaned aloud. Harnash felt like a murderer. He believed indeed -that he was one. It was the turning point in his career. If he spoke -he would brand himself in the eyes of all to whom the story might become -known--John Maynard, of course, and Stephanie, the woman he loved truly -and whole heartedly, even though his love had made him do an unworthy -and ignoble thing. If he kept silent, with the start he had gained in -John Maynard's graces and with Stephanie's affection, he would -eventually marry her. If he did not tell her, if he put her off with -some carefully manufactured story, he could probably persuade her after -a time to marry him. In that event he saw himself doomed to a long life -with the woman he loved so passionately and whom he would fain trust -with everything, with a hideous secret between them. To win her under -such conditions was to lose her. Which was the better course? - -Many a man gives way to an evil impulse under the strain of a great -temptation, but it does not necessarily follow that he cannot recover -from that impulse, that his moral nature is broken down completely by -the one lapse, even though it be a great one. As a matter of fact, a -woman like Stephanie Maynard could scarcely have loved George Harnash as -she did if he had not been on the whole much better than his worst. - -Then and there Harnash came to a decision. Not without much inward -wrestling and many groanings of spirit did he reach the conclusion that -it was better not to try to cover up what he had done. To him entered -Maynard. The cheery good morning of the elder man died on his lips as -he noted the strain and anxiety in his young friend's face. - -"What's the matter?" he began abruptly. - -"Mr. Maynard," said Harnash, summoning his courage up to the -self-accusing point, "I've something very important to say." - -"What is it?" asked the financier, sitting down at the big desk, -disregarding his mail, and staring at Harnash. - -"It begins somewhat far back." - -"Get to the point quickly." - -"I will. I love your daughter. I have loved her ever since I met her, -long before she became engaged to Beekman." - -"Damn him." - -"Wait a minute before you condemn him." - -"What's he got to do with your trouble?" - -"Much." - -"I think Stephanie has about forgotten him, and, frankly, if you want to -marry her--well, I had other views for her, but I don't see why you -shouldn't," was the old man's surprising answer. - -"There may be reasons to the contrary of which you know nothing, Mr. -Maynard." - -"What are they? Why all this beating around the bush?" - -"You've thought hardly of Beekman because he disappeared on his wedding -day." - -"Yes." - -"I was the cause of it." - -"Good God! Did you murder him?" - -"I'm afraid so." - -"Do you know what you're saying?" - -"Perfectly." - -"You must be crazy." - -"I think I am. This came this morning." - -The unhappy Harnash held out the telegram. - -"Well," said Maynard, reading it over quickly. "That's a bad job, of -course, but the _Susquehanna_ is fully insured. It's unfortunate about -the men, and the Russians have been cabling us for that shipment of -munitions and war material, but what's this got to do with Beekman?" - -"He was on the burned ship." - -"What!" - -"Her mate, Woywod, was a boyhood friend of mine. I told him I loved -your daughter and she loved me--" - -"Oh, it's got that far, has it?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"And you had him shanghaied by this Woywod," said Maynard, frowning, as -the whole situation became instantly clear to him. - -"I did." - -"Does Stephanie know?" - -"Not a thing." - -"Was she a party to this transaction?" - -"In no way. I always knew I loved her, but we only found out she loved -me while Beekman was away during the year after his father's death. I -begged her to confess the truth, to appeal to you and to Beekman, and to -break the engagement. She refused to do any of these things. She said -it was the most cherished desire of your heart, that you and old -Beekman, who were bound together by affection of long standing, had -agreed upon it, that she had given her word with her eyes open." - -"And you did this thing with what in view, pray?" - -"To delay the marriage in the hope that something might turn up and I -might win her." - -"Something has turned up." - -"I'm afraid so." - -"But isn't it just possible that Beekman may be one of those six men who -survived?" - -"We should have heard from him in that event." - -"Right, but isn't it just possible that the other boat may turn up or -its men may have landed on some Pacific island?" - -"It's possible," said Harnash, "but not likely." - -"It's generally the unlikely thing that happens in life," said Maynard, -coolly, staring hard at the unfortunate young man to whom confession was -obviously difficult. "For instance, the most unlikely thing that I -could think of is that I should be sitting here quietly listening to you -confess this treacherous and dastardly crime without being able to -determine whether I shall hand you over to the authorities or give you -my daughter as a wife." - -"I don't think the disposition of your daughter's hand rests with you -now." - -"Does it rest with you?" - -"No. She has told me that she would never even allow me to speak to you -or consent to marry me until she had been released by you and Beekman." - -Maynard thought deeply. He was, as he had said, in a state of -indecision most unusual and extraordinary with him. To be unable to -settle upon his course was most annoying to him. - -"You haven't told her what you did?" - -"Not a word." - -"You'll have to tell her now," he said at last, thinking that perhaps -she might throw some light on the problem. - -"I intend to." - -Maynard reached for the telephone. He called up the house, got his -daughter on the wire, and asked her to take her car and come to the -office immediately. He brushed away questions and objections by -assuring her that it was a matter of life and death. Having thus -aroused her curiosity and greatly alarmed her, he disconnected. - -"Now," he said, turning to Harnash, who had waited, "what have you to -suggest?" - -"Cable our agent at Honolulu to send the survivors to San Francisco by -the first steamer." - -"Good so far." - -"I'll go out there in time to meet them and ascertain the facts. If -Beekman is there I'll tell him the truth and bring him home, if he -doesn't kill me." - -"If he is not?" - -"I'll turn everything I have into money and on the chance that he may be -somewhere in the South Seas I'll charter a ship and go and hunt for -him." - -"I wouldn't like to be in your shoes when you meet him, if you do." - -"I don't much fancy the situation myself," admitted Harnash, "but that's -neither here nor there. I've got to do it." - -"You must have been desperately in love with Stephanie to have done this -thing." - -"I was. I am. I don't want to plead anything in justification," -answered the other, "but if Stephanie had loved Beekman I don't think I -should have interfered, although she probably would have found out that -I loved her because I couldn't help letting her see it. You have seen -it yourself, haven't you?" - -"Now that you say it, I recall things that looked that way and, yes, I -had begun to suspect it." - -"But when I found out that she didn't love him and that she did love me -and that she was only going through with it to please you and the elder -Beekman--well, it seemed horrible. I swore to her that I would prevent -it if I had to snatch her away from him at the foot of the altar." - -"Instead of which you snatched him from her the day before." - -"It was the same day." - -"I wonder why none of us ever thought of the _Susquehanna_." - -"She is on record as having sailed the evening before. Her clearance -papers were so made out and as she probably got away without tug or -pilot in the early dawn nobody connected him with her." - -"You didn't have this end of the voyage in mind, of course?" - -"As God is my judge I did not," answered Harnash, earnestly. - -"The _Susquehanna_ was overdue at Vladivostok by about three weeks, I -believe," continued the old man. "That's why you've been so distrait -and worried and generally knocked up during the last month?" - -"Yes. I expected to get word from Beekman." - -"How?" - -"He would naturally cable me, his business partner." - -"Oh, then he doesn't know anything about your part, if he is alive." - -"Certainly not, unless Woywod told him, which would be most unlikely." - -"I see. Well, go and cable Smithfield and find out when the next -steamer sails for the United States from Hawaii, and arrange to leave -here four days before her scheduled arrival so you can get this third -officer and his men before they scatter. You know what sailors are. By -the way, who is the third officer?" - -"I don't know." - -"Well, find that out in the shipping department. And keep within call. -When Stephanie gets here I shall want you to tell her," said the old -man, still painfully undecided as to his course. - -"Very good, sir," said Harnash, turning away, glad for the relief of the -temporary duties devolved upon him. - -By the time he had completed them Stephanie had reached the office -building and had gone to her father's private room, where Harnash -presently followed her. - -"I hurried down here, of course," she began, "on receipt of your -surprising message. What has happened since you left this morning? Oh, -good morning, Mr. Harnash," she continued, her face brightening as she -held out her hand to that unhappy man as he entered the office. - -"This," said her father in answer to her question, meanwhile keenly -observing the other two. - -He handed her the cable. She read it over and looked up with a little -bewilderment. - -"The _Susquehanna_!" she said. "I remember it was the last sailing -ship. It's too bad that she is lost, but you were insured. Of course, -it's terrible about the brave captain and the poor men." - -Old Maynard nodded. He looked at Harnash. That young man's hour had -come. - -"Beekman was on the _Susquehanna_," he said quietly. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIII* - - *THE SEARCH DETERMINED UPON* - - -For a moment Stephanie Maynard did not take in the tremendous import of -the declaration that had just fallen from her lover's lips. For one -thing, he had spoken so quietly that she had not at first sensed the -meaning. She stared from Harnash to her father in no little -bewilderment. Both men watched her keenly; the older curious to know -what she would do and say, the younger as one might wait the death -sentence of a court. - -"I don't understand," she faltered at last. "Did you say that Derrick -Beekman-- It's impossible. How could that be?" - -"I had him shanghaied by a friend of mine." - -"Shanghaied?" - -"Yes. After the dinner broke up we stopped at an uptown place -and"--Harnash hesitated. It was bad enough to compass the main fact, -but the necessary admission of the sordid, unlovely details seemed to -make his turpitude much greater. - -"Yes, go on. What then?" - -"Yes. I'm curious to know how you did it, too," put in Maynard. - -"I persuaded him to take a drink. He was utterly unsuspicious. It was -easy--" - -"Oh, you doctored it," said Maynard. - -"Yes--but-- Good God, this is the hardest thing I ever did," cried poor -Harnash, looking at the girl. "Knock-out drops, you know, and then he -was shanghaied." - -"I don't understand," she said again. - -"He was delivered to a friend of mine down on Water Street who was -waiting for him with a gang. I had arranged it all beforehand and they -put him on the ship." - -"But his watch, his money, jewelry?" - -"I have those," admitted Harnash. "They're in my safe deposit box. I -put them there, you understand, for safe keeping." - -"Of course," said Maynard. "I don't think you're a thief as well as an -abductor." - -"Thank you," said Harnash. - -"Well, even if he were on that ship," began Stephanie, at last -comprehending, "it doesn't follow that he was lost." - -"No. It doesn't follow. He may have been one of those picked up in the -third mate's boat." - -"By the way, who is the third mate?" interposed Maynard. - -"She didn't carry one, sir. Her officers were Captain Peleg Fish, -Woywod, and Salver. She had a boatswain, carpenter, sail-maker, and a -crew of forty." - -"Strange. Who could that officer be? But go on." - -"Yes, and the other boat," said Stephanie, looking at the telegram -again. "She may be found. He may be in her." - -"It is possible," said Harnash hopelessly, "but I am convinced that he -has been lost and I alone am responsible for his death." - -The girl stared at the man, a strange look in her eyes. Harnash met her -gaze bravely, although it took superhuman courage to do so. He loved -her. There was no doubt about that. He had proved it in his perverted -way. And she had loved him. There was no doubt of that, or there had -not been. He even dared to hope that she would still love him, even in -the face of his present confession; but whether she loved him or not he -would rather have faced any judge on earth than Stephanie Maynard. The -situation forced him to speak. - -"It is no excuse that I did it for you," he began. "I said I'd be -willing to kill him rather than he should have you; but while I want you -just as much as ever, more, if possible, that doesn't prevent me from -feeling like a murderer now. And it is all so useless, too. Your -father never could give his consent now and you--with this hideous -possibility before us, I've lost you, too." - -He turned away. He could not control himself. He clenched his jaws -together and walked toward the window, out of which he looked without -seeing anything whatsoever. For a few moments nobody broke the silence. -Old Maynard sat down quietly at his desk, leaned his face in his hands, -and scrutinized his daughter. The air was surcharged with dramatic -possibilities. He was too keen an observer not to recognize them. He -had made up his own mind at last, but he wanted to see what his daughter -would do before he disclosed his wishes or intentions. It seemed to -Harnash, in whose breast a faint hope was still struggling as he also -waited for the girl's decision, that Stephanie's silence lasted a long -time. Really it was a very few moments. Singularly enough, her first -word was not to her lover. - -"Father," she began, facing the old man, "do you think it is likely that -Derrick is lost?" - -"Highly probable." - -"Why?" - -"If he were one of the survivors he would have cabled at once." - -"He might be ill or--" - -Maynard shook his head. - -"I think we can discount that suggestion." - -"Then his only chance would be the other boat?" - -"Yes." - -"And you think that chance--" - -"A faint one. It was probably the bigger and better boat. It should -have turned up before the other. It has not." - -Every word carried conviction to the girl. The flicker of hope in -Harnash's heart died away. It revived again when Stephanie, after -pondering her father's words--and he allowed her to reflect upon them at -her pleasure, volunteering nothing, suggesting nothing--began with -another question. - -"No one knew of Derrick's presence on the ship except those who were -aboard her?" - -"Obviously not, since all the detectives in New York, for the past six -months, have been endeavoring to find out where he went, stimulated by a -reward big enough to arouse them all to the most frantic endeavors." - -"But the people on the ship would know?" - -"I haven't any doubt that Beekman disclosed his name to the officers so -soon as he came to his senses, but I imagine it wouldn't make much of an -impression upon them. They wouldn't believe him. Sailors are -proverbially happy-go-lucky people. Our agents at San Francisco will -pay off these survivors, they will scatter, and that will be the end of -them." - -"And if he is lost the mystery of his disappearance would never have -been solved," whispered the young woman, "unless Mr. Harnash himself had -told." - -The old man nodded. George Harnash, his back turned to them, listened -as if his life hung upon the word. - -"But if he had kept the secret," said the girl, illogically but with -obvious meaning, "I could never have forgiven him, much as I loved him -and still do love him. That doesn't seem to be news to you, father." - -"It isn't. Go on." - -"In that case I never could have married him, even though he did it for -me, but now--" - -She walked over toward Harnash and laid her hand on his shoulder. No -knight ever received an accolade, no petitioner a benison, no penitent -an absolution so precious as that. Harnash turned, coincident with the -touch, transfigured. - -"Stephanie," he burst out, "you don't mean--" - -"A part of the blame is mine," said the girl, facing her father, her -hand still on her lover's shoulder. "I was weak where I should have -been strong. It was my duty to break with Derrick absolutely since I -did not, could not, love him; but because I love you, Father, and -because my word had been given, I proposed to go through with the -marriage, knowing that I loved this man, letting him see that I did, and -allowing myself to hope that he would effect what I refused to attempt; -so that for this awful situation I am in a large part to blame." - -"I cannot let that statement go unchallenged, Mr. Maynard," protested -Harnash, passionately. "She is no more to blame than a baby. She -couldn't help being beautiful. She couldn't help my loving her. As God -is my judge, she has never done a thing to encourage me. She told me -all along that she was going to marry Beekman, that she was in honor -bound to do so, that duty and everything made it necessary. It was my -own mad passion, for which she is not to blame, that made me do it. Not -a vestige of reproach attaches to her. God knows, I wouldn't have had -real harm come to him for anything on earth. I never dreamed of this. I -never suspected it. I never anticipated it. It's an awful shock to me, -but a man must fight for the woman he loves. Beekman didn't care. With -him it was a matter of agreement, convenience, and I--" He turned and -looked at the girl. "I think I'd do it again. I'll be honest. Now I'd -cheerfully give my own life for Beekman's. If I am not to have you life -isn't worth very much to me, and I'm terribly sorry for him; yet when I -look at you, Stephanie, and think that in spite of everything I have -lost you--" - -"You haven't lost me," said the girl, quietly. - -"What! You mean?" - -"Where do I come in?" asked the elder Maynard with a calmness that -matched his daughter's. - -"Father," said the girl, "I'm not your daughter for nothing. I suppose -I couldn't help loving George Harnash. I have the same fixity of purpose -that you have. I showed it when I intended to carry out my agreement to -marry Derrick, although it broke my heart. I know I will go on loving -him to the end, no matter what he did, or what he is, but I wouldn't -have married him if he hadn't of his own free will spoken out and told -what he might as easily have concealed without anyone ever finding it -out, if Derrick is really dead. And I feel here, somehow," said the -girl, laying her hand on her heart, "that you hold the same views -exactly." - -"His prompt and open acknowledgment, his frank confession, makes all the -difference," admitted Maynard. "It does seem to give the affair a -different complexion." - -"Seem, father?" - -"Well, it does, then. Go on." - -"It was horribly wrong of George to do what he did, but he did it for -me. It was my fault as much as his, and I take part of the blame." - -"I swear I will not allow you." - -"Let her finish," interposed Maynard. "She has more sense than you -have, and I'll be hanged if I don't think she has more than I have." - -Stephanie smiled faintly. - -"If Derrick is dead none of us here is ever going to forget it. Neither -Mr. Harnash, nor I, not even you." - -"I fail to see any responsibility attaching to me." - -"No, but there will be some." - -"Oh, will there?" - -"So far as intent goes we can absolve ourselves, but so far as -consequences are concerned we shall have to expiate our wickedness." - -"Oh, Stephanie, for God's sake don't say that of yourself," Harnash -burst forth. - -"I must. And we can expiate it together. We can help each other." - -"Do you mean that you will actually marry me?" - -"Of course," said the girl. "How could you for a moment think -otherwise? I mean what I say when I assume part of the blame." - -"And so you have settled it without me, have you?" asked her father. - -"No. We are going to settle it this way with your approval and -consent." - -"And I am to give my daughter to a man who would administer knock-out -drops to a friend and shanghai him on the eve of his wedding and -appropriate that friend's promised wife?" - -"It is just, sir," said Harnash bitterly. "Think what you do," he -continued, turning to the girl with a gesture of renunciation. - -"No," answered Stephanie to her father. "You are giving your daughter -to a man who, however he sinned, and your daughter doesn't presume to -pass condemnation upon him as she might were she not a party to it, has -frankly and openly acknowledged his transgression and expressed himself -willing to take the consequences." - -"Humph," said the old man, a flicker of a smile appearing on his iron -face. - -"Remember, he might have kept silent." - -"Well," said Maynard, "I believe you are right. There is good stuff in -you, Harnash, and your unforced, voluntary confession shows it. I don't -think you'll administer knock-out drops to anybody again, and eventually -I suppose you'll get Stephanie, but there are conditions." - -"You couldn't impose any conditions that I would not gladly meet." - -"I was coming to those myself," said the girl. - -"Oh, you had thought of this, too, had you?" - -"Certainly." - -"What are they?" - -"First of all there must be no public mention by any of us of the -possible fate of Derrick until we are satisfied that he is dead." - -"Certainly not," said old Maynard. - -The assent of Harnash was obviously not necessary to that. - -"That's where you come in, father--what is the legal term?--as an -accessory after the fact to what we have done." - -The old man laughed a little. - -"Clever, clever," he murmured, "my own daughter." - -"The next condition is that we must satisfy ourselves beyond -peradventure that Derrick is dead before any marriage." - -"That is a harder proposition," said the old man. - -"Because," went on the girl, "I told George when I supposed Mr. Beekman -was alive and would turn up some time that I would never marry him until -I had got a release from Derrick's own lips, and as long as there is a -chance that he is alive that condition holds." - -"I'm so glad that I can look forward to getting you at any time under -any circumstances," said Harnash fervently, "that I accede gladly to any -conditions that you may lay down." - -"And how will you settle the affair if by any good fortune we succeed in -finding Beekman and he refuses to consent and wishes to hold you to your -terms?" asked Maynard thoughtfully. "You don't seem to have counted on -that." - -Harnash and Stephanie looked at each other with dismay. - -"And how if he wants to kill Harnash, as he would have a perfect right -to do, for his part in the--er--deplorable transaction?" continued the -old man relentlessly. - -"I'll take whatever he wishes to give me," said Harnash. "I'll tell him -myself, if we are fortunate enough to see him, and I don't believe when -he learns everything that he will want to claim as his wife a woman who -loves some one else." - -"I am sure he will not," said Stephanie. - -The girl's father nodded. - -"I guess you have it right, but we needn't worry about that now. The -first thing is to find out whether he is really dead." - -"We must set about that at once," said Stephanie. - -"We have already taken steps to that end," said Harnash. "I have cabled -Smithfield to ship the men from Honolulu to 'Frisco at our expense, and -to say to them that I will meet them on the arrival of the steamer. I -find that a steamer sails from Honolulu on Thursday of next week. She is -due to arrive on Friday of the week after. My personal affairs are in -such a state that I can safely leave them. I have a substantial balance -available in the bank. I am going to California to interview the men -and then I shall charter a vessel and hunt for the other boat or -prosecute whatever search is necessary." - -"That's fine," said Stephanie. Then she turned to her father, -stretching out her hand. "Father--" - -The old man understood perfectly well what she wanted. - -"I can amplify that plan a little," he said. "I have been wanting to -get away from active business for a long time and my affairs are -fortunately in such a shape that I can trust them to others. I should -have trusted them to you, Harnash, if you weren't obliged to go along." - -"Do you mean--?" cried the girl. - -"Yes, I'll send the _Stephanie_ around through the Panama canal -immediately"--the _Stephanie_ was a magnificent steam yacht, the -greatest, most splendid, and most seaworthy of any of the floating -palaces of the millionaires of the seaboard--"and we'll go on that hunt -together." - -"You mean that I--" - -"Of course you can go along. Who has more interest in establishing the -fact than you?" - - - - - *CHAPTER XIV* - - *THE BOATSWAIN'S STORY* - - -A seafaring man is less at home in a parlor than anywhere else. He can -sit comfortably on anything except a chair. The big boatswain balanced -himself gingerly on the edge of the biggest and strongest chair in the -private parlor of the Maynard apartment in the St. Francis Hotel in San -Francisco. In his hands, fortunately, for otherwise he would not have -known what to do with them, he clasped a large package wrapped in oil -silk and carefully tied up. He looked and felt supremely ill at ease -and miserable. Back of him, equally uncomfortable, were the other -survivors of the _Susquehanna_. It was proper for the boatswain, who -acted as third officer, to be seated. This much was conceded to his -rank, but Templin and the other five, deaf to all suggestions looking -toward their comfort, remained standing. They did not even lean against -anything. They took position in true seamanlike fashion, arms folded or -akimbo, feet wide apart, ready for any unexpected roll on the part of -the St. Francis Hotel. - -George Harnash had met the steamer. Indeed, he had boarded her before -she tied up at her berth at the docks. He knew that Beekman would not be -with the survivors because their names had been cabled to New York by -Smithfield in answer to inquiries. The strangest circumstance was this. -A list of the other members of the crew taken from the ship's papers -which were in possession of the third officer, for so the boatswain was -designated, had also been cabled and the name of Beekman did not appear -in that list either. This puzzled Harnash beyond measure. He had -delivered Beekman to the crimp and the gang designated by Woywod, -certainly. Had anything happened? Were those knock-out drops too -strong? Harnash was a miserable man, indeed, a prey to all sorts of -fears and anxieties and each worse than the other. - -The men, who had landed at Honolulu in a dilapidated condition, two -weeks' cruising in an open boat being not conducive to the preservation -of wearing apparel, had been thoroughly outfitted by the agent of the -Inter-Oceanic Trading Company, and consequently as Stephanie Maynard -looked upon them she thought them as fine an appearing body of sailors -as she had seen in her various voyagings upon the seas. Old John -Maynard, keenly appraising them as they were led in the room, arrived at -the same conclusion by a somewhat different process. - -"This is the bo's'n of the _Susquehanna_," began Harnash after he had -mustered and marshaled the uneasy sailors. "That is, he was originally -shipped as bo's'n, but he has been promoted to third officer. How or -why I do not yet know. I thought it best not to question the men until -I had brought them here. Mr. Gersey--" - -"Jim Gersey, at your service, sirs an' ma'am," said the old seaman, -rising and making a sort of sea-scrape with his feet while he knuckled -his brow with his hand in true if now somewhat obsolete sailor fashion. - -"Mr. Gersey," said Harnash, "this is Mr. John Maynard, president of the -company which owned the _Susquehanna_, and this is his daughter." - -"Pleased to meet ye both," said the boatswain. - -"In addition to our natural anxiety about the ship and her people we -have reason to be deeply interested in one member of her crew," -continued Harnash, and his personal suspense was obvious to the dullest -person in the room, much more to the girl who loved him in spite of all. - -"I didn't ketch your name, sir," said the boatswain. - -"Harnash, George Harnash." - -The old man furrowed his brow and thought a moment. - -"Of Harnash an' Beekman, 33 Broadway, New York?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, sir, I got a message for you." - -"A message?" - -"Aye. It was give to me by a man that shipped aboard the _Susquehanna_ -as John Smith." - -"That's why Beekman's name didn't appear among those sent us," observed -Mr. Maynard suddenly. - -"I suppose so," answered Harnash, glad to be relieved of one anxiety. - -"Which he said it wan't his name, but I ain't never been aboard a ship -without a John Smith on her," continued the boatswain, "an' sometimes we -gits two or three of 'em. It's a kind-a easy name, an' when nobody -knows a man we jest nachurly calls him that. Now this chap's name was -Beekman. Leastways, that's what he said it was, an' when we put him -overboard--" - -"Put him overboard?" cried Stephanie. - -"Yes, ma'am. In the ship's whaleboat, for his own safety." - -"At the time of the fire?" interposed Harnash. - -"Now, gents an' lady, if you'll excuse me, I can't quite steer my course -amid so many variable winds, so to speak. I can't shift my helm quick -enough to meet all them changes. If you'll lemme heave ahead in my own -way I'll git the yarn off'n my chest the quicker an' the plainer." - -"Of course," said Maynard; "don't interrupt, young people, let him tell -us in his own way." - -"Thankee, sir," said the boatswain. "You've got a seaman's instinck an' -arter I've told the yarn I'll answer any question I may be axed, -pervided they comes at me one at a time." - -"Heave ahead," said Maynard, adopting nautical language for the -occasion. - -"Well, sir, it was this way. Arter Smith or Beekman put a knife into -the mate--" - -This was too much for Harnash. - -"What mate?" - -The boatswain shot a look at him. - -"I was comin' to that," he answered. "Mr. Woywod, as you know, he was -the mate of the ship. He was a prime seaman, an' pleasant enough if you -done what you was told an' done it quick an' kept out of his way, but -when he was roused an' riled--God help us, says I." - -"We all says that," put in Templin grimly. - -"Well, him an' Smith or Beekman got in an argyment the second day out -when Smith come to in the fo'c's'l an' didn't know where he was at or -why he was at it, an' Smith knocked the mate down. The mate seed he was -green an' raw, an' he passed over that, only he told him if he ever done -it agin he'd kill him. The mate battered him up considerably at the -time. I sent for him that day an' told him as an old man that had -follered the sea all his life that there wan't no use of tryin' to fight -the mate; that the officers had everything on their side. They was like -God hisself on the ship; that he'd git double irons clapped on him for -mutiny, an' mebbe hanged if he didn't knuckle down an' turn to. He told -me a long story about him bein' shanghaied. I didn't believe it at -first." - -"It was true," said Harnash. "Absolutely true." - -"An' leavin' a girl on his weddin' day." - -"I was the girl," said Stephanie. - -"Dash me," said the old boatswain, staring at the girl with quite open -admiration, "his was a harder lot than we fancied. Well, he concluded -to take my advice. He turned to an' done his work like a man, an' I -never seen a feller pick up so. Afore he left us he was as hard as -nails, an' by way of bein' a prime seaman, too. The mate didn't -manhandle him none, but there was bad blood 'twixt them two men. The -mate was allus a pickin' on him an' a bullyin' of him. It was a kind of -battle between 'em. The mate anxious to provoke an outbreak on Smith's -part, which I means Beekman, an' Beekman determined not to give the mate -no handle agin him. We had a hell of a--I beg your pardon, Miss, but -that word jest describes the ship an' the v'yage. I never did see such -a succession of gales. We was weeks gittin' round the Horn, an' there -was a dead beat agin the wind nigh all the way up to the line. One -night, I disremember the date, but I got it here"--he tapped the oilskin -package to which he clung so tightly--"all hands was called on suddenly -to reef tops'ls. The old man was for carryin' on, you know; he'd taken -in the r'yals, but the to'gall'nts'ls was still set, an' the sticks was -bendin' like whips when he decided to git 'em off her. Now there was a -mast-man, a half-witted Dutchman, aboard named Wramm." - -"Jacob Wramm," said Templin. "God rest his soul." - -"He done a lubberly thing. He cast off the wrong halliards, an' we lost -the main to'gall'nt mast. It was in the mid watch, an' Wramm had been -takin' a snooze under the lee rail or he wouldn't have done it. The -mate was very vi'lent with him. He had kicked him awake, au' when the -mast carried away he hit him over the head with a belayin' pin, -thinking, doubtless, to let some sense into his thick skull, but instead -he let the life out of him." - -"Do you mean that he killed him?" asked Maynard in amazement, while the -others held their breath at this matter-of-fact description of tyranny -and murder. - -"Aye, sir, I means jest that. There's a lot o' things that goes on -aboard your ships, that neither you nor nobody else in New York knows -nothin' about." - -"Evidently. Proceed." - -"Wramm died the next day, but meanwhile, arter we'd cleared away the -wreck an' got the ship snug, we took Wramm, who was still breathin' but -unconscious, to his berth in the fo'c's'l. Arter we'd examined him, -Beekman said he was goin' aft to see the old man." - -"Did Captain Fish permit such brutality?" - -"I ain't wishful to say nothin' agin a man that's dead an' that can't -defend hisself, but him an' Salver, which he was in charge of the other -boat, was much the same kind of men as Woywod, only not quite so -vi'lent. The cap'n was an old man an' he wan't so free with his fists, -but he allus backed up the mates in whatever they done. Well, Beekman -insisted on seein' the cap'n, an' arter the mate had inspected Wramm an' -seen he was pretty bad off, he thought best to let him go aft. Templin -here was busy about the mizzenmast, an' he can tell what happened, -though we've got it all down in writin'." - -"If you please, ma'am an' gents," said old Templin, stepping forward and -taking up the tale, "I heard v'ices raised high in the cabin, which I -could see into it through the skylight which covers it an' lets in light -an', when it's open, air. You understand?" - -Maynard nodded. - -"Wot words passed I couldn't make out, but I seen the mate leap toward -Smith, an' Smith hit him. The mate was a big man, an' although it must -have been a powerful blow, it didn't phase him; it jest throwed him back -agin the cabin bulkhead. Then he gathered hisself up, drew a gun, -p'inted it at Smith, an' made for him agin. The cap'n was havin' -something to eat afore turnin' in, it bein' about four bells in the mid -watch, an' there was a big, sharp carvin' knife layin' on the table. -The mate was cursin' like mad, an' Smith was standin' there quiet an' as -white as the paint on the cabin bulkheads. Jest as the mate pulled the -trigger, Smith grabbed the knife an' buried it to its handle in the -mate's breast, the bullet from the pistol passin' harmless like jest -over Smith's head an' tearin' a big hole in the bulkhead." - -"I seen the hole myself later on," said the boatswain as Templin stopped -for breath. - -"Mr. Salver, who had the watch," resumed the sailor, "came into the -cabin, an' he grabbed Smith, who was standin' kind o' dazed like, -lookin' at the mate wrigglin' round the deck; an' Manuel, the steward, -did the same. The old man got the mate's pistol an' covered Smith, an' -they put him in the bo's'n's cabin an' moved the bo's'n aft to take the -watch, ratin' him as third mate, an' givin' Mr. Salver, the second mate, -Mr. Woywod's watch." - -"Good God, how horrible!" said Harnash, shooting a quick look at -Stephanie, who sat staring and as white as Templin's description -indicated Beekman had been, as this grim, sordid tragedy of the sea was -revealed to them in the picturesque simplicity of this rude sailor's -tale. - -"What happened then?" asked Maynard. - -"Well, sir," answered the boatswain, "Templin can finish the yarn better -nor I can." - -"Every man jack on the ship," said Templin, "had a mighty likin' for -Smith. Ain't that so, mates?" - -Deep-toned approvals, with much nodding of heads, came from the other -seamen. - -"He was the pleasantest man on the ship," said one. - -"Free an' easy, always willin' to help a shipmate," said another. - -"Full of good stories, an' doin' his best to be agreeable," added a -third. - -"An' we wasn't goin' to see him hanged for that, which it was clearly -self-defense, an' a good riddance, anyway," continued Templin. "You -see, the mate was hated as much as Smith was liked. So we puts our -heads together, an' to make a long story short, we pervisions the -whaleboat, which was hangin' at the after davits. We struck the irons -off of Smith's wrists an' ankles, put him into the boat, an' lowered her -the night arter." - -"I had heerd the old man an' Salver plottin' the ship's position," said -the boatswain. "They said there was land about seventy leagues to the -sou'west'ard, an we all thought he could reach it. It seemed as if the -rough weather had blowed itself out at last in the Pacific. There was -some white people on them islands. There'd be some means for him to git -back to the United States, eventually, or wherever he belonged." - -"When did the captain learn of his escape?" - -"Right then an' there. He done his best to prevent it, but it was dark -an' the men refused to handle the braces to wear the ship, an' that's -all there was to it." - -"So Beekman wasn't on the ship when she burned," cried Harnash. - -"No." - -"Thank God for that," said Stephanie. "Don't you see," she continued as -the bewildered seaman stared at her, "if he had been on the ship, he -might have been lost in the other boat; Mr. Salver's boat, you said." - -"Yes, ma'am." - -"But, as it is now, there is a chance he may have got to those islands. -What were they? Where are they? We may find him yet." - -"It's possible. There's always a chance on the sea," admitted the -boatswain. "But that ain't all the story." - -"No?" - -"No, ma'am; the gales hadn't quite blowed theirselves out yet, an' the -next day come the worst of 'em all. What become of that boat in that -storm, Cod only knows. We had to scud afore it under bare poles." - -"It might not have blowed so hard where the whaleboat was," said Templin -sagely. - -"In course; but no man can know nothin' about that." - -"We got a slant of a favorin' wind arter a few days, an' ran down our -northin' at a great rate. I think it was two weeks arter we sent the -whaleboat away with Beekman in it, when a fire broke out in the -forehold. I suppose the strainin' an' pitchin' and buckin' of the ship -was the cause of it. I don't rightly know jest what we had aboard." - -"About three thousand tons of the most inflammable and explosive stuff -on earth," said Mr. Maynard. - -"Well, it ketched afire. We knowed it was some kind of dangerous stuff -without bein' aware of the partik'lers, an' we tried to git at the fire, -but we couldn't. We knowed the old ship was doomed just about as soon -as something that would explode got reached by the fire. There wan't no -panic." - -"The officers treated us like dogs, all of us," interposed Templin; "but -they knowed their business, an' so did we." - -"Two boats was got over an' pervisioned; a cutter an' a la'nch that was -on chocks amidships. The cap'n ordered me with nine of the men to the -cutter, an' Mr. Salver with the rest on 'em to the la'nch. The sea was -calm enough, an' we had no difficulty in gittin' the boats overboard, -although we had to bear a hand, an' it was well we done so. Nachurly, -the cap'n was to be the last man to 'bandon the ship, which he didn't -leave at all, as a matter of fact. He was to go in my boat, which was -one reason why the steward was in her. Salver's boat shoved off, an' -while we lay alongside at the battens waitin' for him, the old man -ordered us to shove off, too. 'Mr. Gersey,' he sez--me bein' called -'Mister' habitual after I come aft--'if you git to shore, report me as -havin' stayed with the ship.' 'Cap'n Fish,' sez I, 'savin' your -presence, it's a kind of damn fool thing for you to do, for the ship's -goin' down.' 'I ain't never yet desarted no ship under my charge,' sez -the cap'n, an' when I started to argue, he told me to go to hell an' git -away from there lest the boat should be lost. There wan't nothin' else -for me to do, ma'am, but obey orders. I've been all my life obeyin' -orders at sea, but that was about the hardest one ever put up to me. We -didn't like the old man much. As a matter of fact, we hated him, an' we -might have killed him in a fair fight, if it had been possible, but we -didn't none of us want to see him die that way." - -"No, we didn't," said one. - -"But there wan't no help for it. We pulled away from the blazin' ship -till we got within hail of Salver's boat. When he seed the cap'n wasn't -aboard, he was for rowin' back to the ship to rescue him. We could see -the old man calmly walkin' up an' down the bridge, for'ard of the -mizzenmast, perfectly plain. The fire was for'ard, and the ship was -hove to so the smoke druv away to lee'ard. He never left that bridge -except to go aft to h'ist the American flag at the gaffend. Salver -would have gone back, anyway, only the men refused. We was willin' -enough, only we know'd it wan't no use. An' the ship was liable to blow -up any minute." - -"Well?" said Maynard in the silence that ensued. - -"She did blow up, an' the cap'n an' the flag an' the ship all went down -together," said the old boatswain with deep solemnity. - -"He was a hard man," said Templin frowning, "but he went down with his -ship." - -That last act covered a multitude of sins in the eyes of the men. - -"There ain't much more to tell," continued the boatswain after the -tribute of respect and admiration had been conveyed by a solemn little -silence which no other cared to break. "We had a hard v'yage in that -open cutter, which we separated from the la'nch in the night. Food an' -water give out by the end of a week, an' afore we reached Honolulu, or -was picked up by a steamer headin' that way a day's sail from the port, -three of the men died. Among 'em was Manuel, ship's steward. As we'd -thought the old man was goin' in my boat, I had the log an' the ship's -papers. We knowed, because I had seed it, that the cap'n had logged the -yarn of the killing of Woywod, which he had got signed by Salver an' -Manuel, the steward. Manuel was a witness to the whole thing, an' -Salver to the latter part. Manuel was pretty poor stuff; afeerd of his -life when Cap'n Fish was around. So he signed a lie. When he knowed he -was goin' to die, he said he wanted to undo what he had done, as far as -he could, so I got out the logbook an' wrote in it what he said. He -made his mark after it, an' then Templin an' all the rest that could -write signed it as witnesses, an' them as couldn't, made their marks. -We thought if Beekman ever did git back home, an' this charge ever come -up, which it wouldn't be likely, since the _Susquehanna_ was lost, it -might help him to git people to believe he was innercent." - -As the old man spoke he unfolded the oil silk wrapping, disclosed the -logbook, and extended it to his fascinated audience. Harnash took it. - -"You'll find it there, sir," said the boatswain, opening the book at a -place marked by a slip of paper. - -"Read it, George," said Maynard. - -"I, Manuel Silva," Harnash read from the water-stained page, with -difficulty deciphering the blurred, soft pencil writing. - -"We didn't have no pen an' ink," interrupted the boatswain in -explanation. - -"Being about to die, do hereby declare before God and Mr. Gersey and the -crew of this cutter, that what I signed in the logbook about the death -of the mate is a damn lie, which I hope God and the Holy Virgin and the -Saints will pardon me. The mate struck at Smith, although he was twice -warned, and finally drew a pistol. He would have shot him if he hadn't -been killed. It was self defense. In fear of the captain and my life, -I signed that false Happy David. This is the truth, so help me God." - -"There's his mark," said Gersey, getting up and pointing. "An' this is -my signature, an' there's Templin's an' Dumellow's, and there's Spear's -and Lawton's marks, which they are here to testify. Also, there's -Walling's and Allen's, which are dead." - -"I see," said Harnash, handing the book to Stephanie. - -"Mr. Gersey, you have done exceedingly well. I want to compliment you -and every one of the men," said Maynard. "You shall not suffer in the -loss of the _Susquehanna_. The Inter-Oceanic will pension you or give -you steady work. A sum of money will be deposited to your credit, which -will enable you to be independent of the sea, if you choose." - -"That's handsome of you, Mr. Maynard," said Templin. "I don't know how -the other men feels, but as for me, I'm too young to retire. I'd just -blow in the money, wot ever it is, if it was give to me, an' I'd rather -have work." - -"That goes for me." - -"An' for me," cried one after the other. - -"So, if you'll jest keep the money for us, so's when we're too old to go -to sea we'll have somethin' laid up, it'll be all right." - -"Your decision is a wise one," said Maynard. "As it happens, I'll be -able to offer you work. These men look to me to be all right. Can you -vouch for them, Mr. Gersey?" - -"They're prime seamen, every one of 'em, an' orderly an' decent men. -Not but what they sometimes gits laid by the heels ashore, but afloat -there ain't no more properer men to be found." - -"I thought so. Well, I own a three-thousand-ton steam yacht, barkentine -rigged--the _Stephanie_--named after my daughter here. She will be due -in San Francisco in two weeks. We are contemplating an extended cruise -to the south seas. Have you ever been in steam, Mr. Gersey?" - -"Most of my life, sir." - -"There's a berth aboard her as bo's'n, or fourth officer, for you, and -I'll ship every man here at double pay before the mast. You can pick -one of them for bo's'n's mate. We've never had a bo's'n on the yacht, -but I've no doubt we can use one handily." - -"Are you goin' to hunt for Beekman, sir, I makes bold to ask," -questioned the boatswain, his face shining. - -"I'm going to search the seas until I find him, or what became of him, -if possible; and, incidentally, Salver and the launch." - -"We're with you, howsomever long that cruise," said the boatswain. "Am -I right, mates?" - -"Right you are," came in deep-toned approval from the little group of -sailors. - - - - - *BOOK III* - - *"*_*Where there aren't no Ten Commandments*_*"* - - - - *CHAPTER XV* - - *THE SPIRIT OF THE ISLAND* - - -Derrick Beekman was astonished beyond measure at the apparition which -flashed in view so suddenly far above his head and had almost -immediately disappeared. So far as he had been able to view the island, -he had not before discovered the slightest evidence of humanity. -Indeed, the whole deep cup of the bay was so desolate and forbidding -that it had not prepared him for human beings, scarcely for life, even. -If he had not yet thought about it at all, he had, nevertheless, a -subconsciousness that this was probably a bare and arid rock, volcanic -in origin, which the busy little toilers of the sea had surrounded with -a coral reef. - -He came to believe afterward that this idea was correct, and that the -deep bay represented one of the craters of the volcano, one side of -which had been riven, by what cause he could not determine, giving -access to the ocean. In his terribly weak condition, for when he had -slaked his thirst, he was more acutely conscious of his hunger, not to -say his starvation, than before, he could only reflect vaguely upon -these matters. But one thing was really impressed upon his -consciousness; namely, that he had seen a human being; that being was a -woman, and that she was white! - -He fell back on the sands supine, and lay staring upward. How long he -lay there, he could not tell. He had been too amazed even to cry out, -if he had possessed the power. And before he could decide upon -anything, she was gone. He hoped, of course, that the woman or some of -her companions, if she had any, would come again; but the dark, rugged, -desolate rock cut the skyline with iron precision, unbroken by anything -that had any suggestion of life, as before, when he had first looked -upon it. He soon awoke to the realization that there was nothing to be -gained by waiting. He must get something to eat to get back some of his -strength before he explored the harbor to find a way to the top of the -encircling cliffs. - -He moved back to the spring and, thanking God for its sweetness, this -time drank deeper than before. He took off his salt-encrusted clothes, -held them under the falling water until they were clean of the sea -marks, and then he plunged his own body in the waterfall. As he -intended to swim back to the whaleboat, he laid his clothes out upon -some rocks which faced the rift-like opening and through which the -morning sun streamed with tropic intensity. - -As he walked barefoot through the sand along the bank of the little -shallow brook by which the waters that fell from the crest made their -way to the sea, his foot struck something sharp that pricked him. He -bent over it at once, instantly curious. In the situation in which he -found himself, the slightest thing was of moment, or might be. He -laughed as he recognized it. He eagerly tore from its bed in the -sand--a pineapple! - -Templin had replaced the sheath knife that had been taken from him by -the captain, and it hung in his belt on the rocks behind him where he -had left his clothes. To get it, to open it with nervous fingers, to -cut into the heart of the pineapple, to bury his face greedily in the -fragrant deliciousness of it, to eat it with almost animal-like -ferocity, was inevitable in so ravenous a man. When he had devoured it -to the last edible scrap, he searched the banks of the creek for other -fruit, possible flotsam and jetsam from the upland; but the search -produced nothing that met his fancy, for what he did find was decayed -and useless. - -He was abundantly thankful, however, for the pineapple. Leaving his -clothing, except his shoes, which he put on again to protect his feet -from the sharp rock, he climbed over the broken stone at the base of the -rift and found himself once more on the stretch of sand opposite the -wrecked whaleboat. The tide was evidently on the ebb, for much that had -been covered before was now exposed. He gathered shellfish from the -rocks, broke them open, and, restraining his hunger, which was still -ravenous, partook sparingly of them. - -Again making use of his boards, although he felt so much stronger that -he might have dispensed with them, he swam out to the barrier reef and -examined the whaleboat again. The lockers forward and aft were -practically empty. He did come upon a few scraps of salt meat, which he -had been unable to eat before in his consuming thirst; not enough for a -meal for an ordinary man, but still very welcome, and these he devoured. -There was not a crumb of hard bread left. That he had managed to eat, -in spite of his thirst. There was not another thing in the boat except -a boat hook, a stout pole with a brass hook on the end, and above the -hook a sharp pointed spike. This point had got wedged in the bulkhead -of the forward compartment, and the pole, lying under the thwarts, it -had not been swept out by the seas which had broken over him. The boat -itself was a hopeless wreck. The bottom had been torn out on the reef. -Everything that had been in her was gone. If he could break her up, she -would make good firewood if he should be able to compass a fire, and the -copper air tanks forward and aft, which were still intact, might be of -some service if he could ever get them off, which was improbable on -account of the lack of tools. Nor would the boat hook be of much use to -him. It would make a dangerous weapon in a hand-to-hand encounter, if -he should be so unfortunate as to require it, but that was all. - -The heat of the sun beating upon him warned him that he would best get -back to the shelter of the cliffs and to his clothes. Taking the boat -hook, after a last search of the lockers which revealed nothing, he once -more swam the lagoon, by force of habit taking the planks which had -assisted him before, although now he felt no need of them. - -If it had not been for the presence of that woman on the upland -indicating that the island was inhabited, he might have husbanded the -scraps of salt meat which he had devoured so voraciously, but he -reasoned as he ate them that there must be some way to the top, and that -once there he would find plenty to eat. That woman could not have -dropped from the clouds to the island. She or her forbears must have -come up from the sea. If there were a way, he would find it. Retracing -his steps, he presently regained the beach at the foot of the waterfall, -and finding his clothes dry and free from salt, he put them on again -with great comfort and gladness of heart. - -Having taken his full meal of fruit, shellfish, and salt meat on the -installment plan, as it were, and having prudently refrained from -drinking his fill, contenting himself with frequent sips of water, he -felt immensely refreshed. He had moved slowly in his weakness and -exhaustion, and these various undertakings had used up most of the -morning. He could tell from the sun that it was about noon. Selecting a -spot on the warm, white sand which the sun had just left, which made a -warm and even a luxurious bed for a man who had lain for how many days -he could not tell on the hard planks and ribs of a boat in the tossing -sea, he threw himself down on his back to rest, intending to begin his -explorations in the afternoon. He instantly fell fast asleep. - -When he awakened, the sun had set and, looking above and beyond the -rocks that circled above him, he could see the stars shining in tropic -brilliance in the quiet night sky. He was greatly refreshed by that -long, undisturbed sleep on the warm, yielding sand. He was also -ravenously hungry again, not famished, but just healthily hungry and -thirsty. It was cool in the great cylinder at the bottom of which he -lay. He concluded that it would be warmer on the ocean side where the -sun had beaten with full power against the rock cliffs all day long. He -would pass the night there. Drinking his fill, and drawing his belt a -notch or two tighter, he found a sheltered spot protected by an overhang -of rock and floored with clean, beautiful sand. He recalled whimsically -enough Sancho Panza's sage reflection that "he who sleeps dines." -Promising himself a day of exploration in the morning, he was soon -asleep again. - -Before dawn he made his way back to the waterfall. He was about to -explore the harbor or cup when it occurred to him to wait until sunrise. -Perhaps she would come again--that spirit of the island. With the first -break of day as the splendor of the tropic morning streamed through the -rift, he saw again the same radiant, beautiful, golden figure. This time -he called. He shouted for help as loudly as he could, not because he -had any idea that his words would be understood, but he felt that -perhaps the appeal in his voice might be appreciated. He forgot that in -his blue clothes he was practically invisible to anyone looking down -into the gloom of the deep cup, especially as he stood against the foot -of the darkest wall. The distance was great, but the sound of his -voice--and it was the first time he had raised it or even spoken since -he had landed--sent wild echoes flying which were thrown from wall to -wall in almost maniacal ejaculations. Doubtless, they sounded much -louder to him than to the woman above, but she was conscious of -something unusual, for she started, and as he watched her closely he saw -her peer down into the depths. Her vision swept the enclosure, but -evidently she had not seen him, and although he called again and again, -he finally desisted as she stopped her search, perhaps concluding that -some wandering seabird with harsh cry might have sent those echoes -flying, for presently she disappeared as before. - -Well, he would solve the mystery of her presence when he got to the top -of the rock, if he ever did. The first consideration was breakfast. -The problem remained unsolved. No kindly brook rolled to his feet -another pineapple. True, there were the mussels, but of these he ate -sparingly. Then he took his board and launched out into the waters of -the harbor. Here and there stretches of beach and piles of rock had -collected at the foot of the cliffs which, for a large part of their -extent, ran sheer down into the water, the blueness of which showed its -depth. The sea water was warmer than the air in the hollow, at least -until the sun had tempered it, and the bay was very still. He swam -easily through it, landing at each stretch of sand or rock, also -inspecting, as he progressed slowly, each fall of cliff that dropped -into the water without breaking. Here and there practical ways of -ascent seemed to open, but, when surveyed carefully or tried, they ended -at greater or less distance upward. - -After a careful survey of the entire enclosure, which brought him back -finally to the beach of the waterfall where he had started on his little -voyage of discovery, he decided that the only possible way to get to the -top was by following the line of the waterfall. There was not a great -deal of promise in that; still, as it was the only way, it had to be -tried. Although he was in much better shape than when he landed, he was -not in good condition for violent efforts or exercise had it not been -for the impelling physical necessities behind him, to say nothing of the -stimulating appeals to his mind of what must be above him. - -The boat hook, which he used as he might have an alpenstock, proved of -the greatest service. Indeed, he could scarcely have made the difficult -ascent without it. It was fortunate for him that he had some experience -in mountain climbing in various parts of the world, and that he rejoiced -in the possession of a cool head, a steady nerve, and a sure foot. Part -of the time he had to climb right through the waterfall. Fortunately, -its volume was not great enough to render that impossible, although in -the narrow places where the water was concentrated, its beat upon him -was tremendous. Sometimes he would stop on a jutting rock with the -swift waters roaring down on either side of him, again--in utter despair -wondering how it would be humanly possible to go any further. -Nevertheless, he persevered, his hope rising higher as he gradually -mounted the cliff and surmounted the difficulties. Finally, he lost -sense of time and almost everything else. His whole soul was centered -upon a desperate determination to get upward. - -At last he reached the little rift in the rim through which the water -poured. Wet, bruised, cut, ineffably weary, he fell rather than lay -down upon a smooth rock in the narrow ravine through which the stream -flowed. He lay there a long time seeking to recover his breath, his -strength, his nerve. Finally, he got to his feet again and surveyed the -place. He was not yet at the top of the cliffs, but he was in a little -ravine which led to the top through which the brook ran and which -presented no difficulties compared to those he had surmounted. - -The ravine twisted and turned as it ran upward, and he could yet see -nothing but rocks ahead of him. With the aid of the boat hook, he -followed the twisting, turning rift, or gorge, mounting on easy grades -until, at last, he saw the open entrance before him. To his great joy -and relief, he discovered that it was framed in the rich and vivid green -of the lush growths of the tropics. Trees, bushes, blossoms were there; -and, somewhere beyond, a woman! Light, life, humanity, Eden! - -He was so overcome that he sank down again, but, with the certain goal -before him, he presently rose to his feet and broke into a staggering -run. He dashed through the undergrowth, which parted easily before him. -He burst his way through more tangled vegetation and finally stopped -breathless at the base of a noble palm tree. Ripe cocoanuts had fallen. -He had cruised in tropic waters, and the knowledge he had gained was of -service. He broke one open. Not even the pineapple he had found the -day before tasted so delicious. When he had consumed it, he looked -about him. - -Yes, this was a paradise. All about him, the farther side being several -miles straight away, in a rough, circular shape rose huge walls of stone -enclosing the loveliest tropic landscape his eyes had ever looked upon. -The one rift in these encircling walls was that through which the brook -reached the sea. He could mark its line of silver winding about through -the open land before him. The country was not level. It was rolling. -Clumps of tall, graceful palms rose here and there. - -Upon a tree-crowned little hillock, almost in the center of the vast -enclosure, around the foot of which the brook ran, he saw a little -cluster of houses, such buildings as he had never seen or heard of in -the south seas. Smoke curled out of a real chimney. The place had a -familiar look to him. It did not present the appearance of a Polynesian -settlement, yet it was not absolutely unlike such, after all. Here and -there he marked little stretches of cleared land at the foot of the -hillock that looked strangely like cultivated fields. Similar gardens -bordered the brook. He rubbed his eyes as he stared, because he seemed -to recognize grain and plants with which he was familiar. - -As his vision, obscured by his emotions for the moment, cleared, he saw -in the distance men and women, brown-skinned people, but a little -lighter than the handsome Polynesians with which he was familiar. He -heard the bark of a dog. - -If this were not the Garden of Eden, it was yet a paradise to that -shipwrecked sailor. Yes, a paradise, and lo, before him, even as Eve -might have stood before Adam, was the woman whom he had twice seen -bathed in the rays of the morning, staring seaward from the high cliff -where she had poised herself before his view as a vision--the Spirit of -the Island! - - - - - *CHAPTER XVI* - - *THE SPEECH OF HIS FOREFATHERS* - - -The woman appeared suddenly before him from behind a clump of bushes. -She was more surprised than he, for, having seen her before, he had -hoped and expected to meet her. Nothing whatever had occurred to -suggest to her his presence on the island. Besides, he had seen many -women like her, and in the familiar dress of the south seas. She had -never seen a man like him; never a white man; never a clothed man. She -stopped and stared at him; not in any alarm, apparently, but in great -surprise and astonishment. She made no movement to approach nearer, and -he remained rooted to his place, as well. Each one had time to take in -every detail of the other, and this is what he saw: - -A young woman obviously just passing out of girlhood. Her abundant hair -was beautifully golden, throwing back in daring brilliance the bright -light of the morning sun. It was not dressed after the manner of the -savage Polynesian, but was neatly plaited in thick braids which were -twisted around her head like an aureate crown. He was near enough for -the details, and he observed that her eyes were as blue as the tropic -sea, and filled with light. Her slender figure, practically entirely -revealed, for she wore nothing but a wide spreading petticoat of -pandanus leaves which came just short of her knees, was the very -perfection of native grace and beauty, albeit a trifle immature and, as -yet, somewhat undeveloped. There flashed into his mind a remembrance of -a day at the museum of the Capitol in Rome, and his first sight of the -marble girl, which has a high place there and which is supposed to -represent the very perfection of girlhood budding into womanhood. No -marble had the rich softness of texture underneath firmness and strength -that the skin of this wonderful girl-woman exhibited. Even the tropic -sun had only slightly mellowed the clear translucence of her complexion. -A great scarlet flower was placed behind her ear in her golden hair. -Otherwise, she was absolutely unadorned. She was entirely unconscious -of her inadequate attire, and he was unconscious of it, too. As an -ancient nymph of Greece of old, she fitted into the soft beauty of the -landscape so perfectly that in his eyes, as in her own, she lacked -nothing. No apparel could have made more obvious the sweetness, the -innocence, the youthful charm of this graceful, enchanting figure. That -is what he saw on the heaven-kissing hill on that island. - -In her turn, she saw a man who was dark where she was fair, whose thin -and haggard face was covered with a short growth of new and thick beard -and mustache which, nevertheless, did not hide its fineness; whose -sodden, torn, blue denim clothing could not disguise the strong, -vigorous lines of his well-knit figure; one who was whiter where his -complexion showed, and taller and stronger than any man she had ever -looked upon; whose clothes were as unfamiliar to her as her lack was -unfamiliar to him; who stood erect, perhaps a head taller than she, and -she was counted as a tall woman on that island, and stared at her with -great interest and delight. She noticed that he carried a singular -looking staff, the bright brass top of which shone in the light. He was -like nothing she had ever seen. He had no advantage of her in that, -except in so far as that charming girl of the Capitol was concerned. -Obviously she found him distinctly pleasing. - -Controlling his nerves as best he could, he stepped toward this radiant -wood nymph, amicably extending his hands. Then he brought his palm up to -his mouth, intending thus to convey to her that he was hungry. In -return, she broke the silence by addressing him. There was something -extraordinarily familiar in the language she used. He had been enough -in the South Seas to have picked up a smattering of dialect, enough to -pass; but her speech, while it was suggestive, was, nevertheless, unlike -any native tongue he had ever heard before. He could not account for -its familiarity, though he could not understand it. He only shook his -head, put his hand to his mouth again, and moved his jaws. Obviously, -she understood this simple sign language, for she at once nodded to him -as she walked toward him. - -She stretched out her hand to him, as she drew near, in a gesture that -was somehow singularly European, and when his greater palm met her own -daintier hand, to his great astonishment she shook it vigorously in a -way totally different from that of any Polynesian of whom he had ever -heard. Indeed, although the Polynesians are among the handsomest and -best proportioned people on earth, there was nothing whatever that -suggested a denizen of the South Sea about the girl, except her costume, -or lack of it. - -She said something more to him that sounded as familiar as her first -address, but which was as puzzling and unintelligible as her other -speech. Then she withdrew her hand, turned, and walked across the grass -toward the clump of trees. She beckoned him to follow. Walk, of -course, is the word that must be used to describe her progress; that -monosyllable in this instance covers a multitude of graceful movements. -To his fancy she seemed to dance across the sward; to float across it; -her small, white feet skimming the grass; her slender, exquisitely -proportioned limbs flashing in the very poetry of free and unhampered -motion. He found her back view equally beautiful in its symmetry and -slender grace as the face-to-face impression. - -Forgetful of his needs for the moment in his surprise and pleasure, in -the sheer joy of contemplating a thing so beautiful--a purely esthetic -pleasure, without thought of anything but the sweet innocence and purity -of the girl, which made it impossible to entertain any profaning -thoughts, at least for a clean, decent, young man like Beekman--he -followed her gladly. Behind the clump of palm trees ran a path through -thick growths of tropic fern and cane and blooming leafage. She turned -into it, and he had some difficulty in keeping up with her rapid -progress. She looked back from time to time to see that he was -following, but otherwise pursued her way without stopping. - -After a walk of perhaps a mile, which led through groves of palm or -thickets of undergrowth, or across opens in which he noticed plants -under cultivation that had a singularly familiar look, although he could -not stop to examine them in that rapid progress, they reached the -settlement which he had observed when he came out of the cleft where the -brook pierced the wall. Their approach had been marked for some time, -and the whole population apparently had assembled to welcome them. - -There were perhaps forty souls gathered under the palm trees in front of -the curious houses. As near as he could estimate, one-third of them -were men, mainly old; one-third of them were women, the most of them -past their youth; and the rest were small, quiet, anaemic looking -children. The women were clad like his guide. The men wore breech -clouts or loin cloths. They ranged in color from a whiteness that -nearly but not quite matched that of the girl to the rich, golden brown -of the Polynesian. Most of them were distinctly undersized, not to say -stunted. Old men and women predominated. The children were weak -looking, decadent. There was a listlessness about them; a languor -greater than that ordinarily to be found in the tropics. Even to his -first superficial investigation they presented the appearance of a -degenerate race of people that was dying out. There was no look of -vigor even about the young, but in nearly every face a physical and a -mental indifference. Surely here was an arrival to have raised the -wildest excitement in normal people, but these islanders were almost -passive in their scrutiny, albeit they were deeply interested. - -Two figures detached themselves from the group as they approached, and -stood forth prominently. The first was a man of great age, venerable, -white bearded, white haired, hoary, wrinkled, bent with many years and -the infirmities consequent thereon. He walked with difficulty, leaning -upon a staff. His fellow was the tallest and most vigorous of the rest -of the men. He appeared to be the most intelligent of them all. This -is not saying that his intelligence would have been marked to a -European, or that his vigor would have been noticed elsewhere in the -world, but in that assemblage there was enough difference between him -and the rest to awaken instant attention. The others were quite -hopeless. The old man would have aroused interest and curiosity -anywhere. The young man would have passed in a crowd of Europeans -without notice one way or the other. - -As they approached, Beekman's glance went from the girl who led him to -the young man. The two, he observed, looked at each other with a -certain familiarity which bespoke some sort of relationship. They -exchanged eloquent glances. He noted that the young man was as much -ahead of the rest of the islanders as he was below the girl. The old -man who had stepped to the front and stood leaning upon a twisted sort -of staff was the first to speak. - -Again Beekman had that strange sense of familiarity with the words in -spite of the fact that he could make nothing of them. The girl answered -briefly. The young man joined in the conversation. The rest, slowly -drawing nearer, spoke in brief ejaculations from time to time. Finally, -the gentle tumult subsided, and the old man turned to Beekman and -addressed him directly. The American shook his head. The old man, -whose eyes were wonderfully bright and piercing, stared at him, -evidently nonplussed by the situation. Beekman made the same sign as -before, putting his hand to his mouth and moving his jaws, stretching -out his arms, and then, as an after-thought, he patted his lean and -empty stomach. It was obvious to the most backward that he was hungry. -The old man nodded his head vigorously. He turned and spoke a few -words. Some of the younger women walked off in the direction of the -huts. Meanwhile, with a gesture singularly graceful, the old man -beckoned to Beekman to sit down upon a rude rock bench under a giant -palm. - -Beekman was a man of great intrepidity, but even if he had been an -arrant coward, there was nothing to cause him the least alarm. For one -thing, not a single one of the group had a weapon of any sort, so far as -he could see. He divined that they had gone to get him something to -eat, and he took his seat readily. The old man squatted on the grass at -his feet, and the others disposed themselves comfortably farther away. -Only the young girl and the young man remained standing near him, and -side by side. - -Evidently something had seriously displeased the young man, for he spoke -sharply and shortly to the amazed girl, who waved him away with a look -of haughty disdain. When the women appeared bearing wooden platters -upon which food was piled, the young woman, who seemed a person in -authority among them, took the first platter and, approaching Beekman, -dropped on one knee with a singularly graceful movement and extended it -to him. He took it without hesitation, examined it quickly, discovered -it to be some kind of roast meat, tasted it, striving to remember that -he was a gentleman and must eat as such in the presence of these people -who, whatever their origin, were obviously so gentle themselves. - -The first bite told him what it was. A piece of roast pig on an island -in the South Seas! And the next platter was heaped with such vegetables -of Europe as would grow in tropic lands. How could these things be -there? The oasis cup in which he was, like the enclosed bay whence he -had climbed, was more convincingly than ever of volcanic origin. Shut -off for how many years God only knew from all connection with the rest -of the world, peopled by a nondescript race whose course was almost -run--the girl and the young man evidently throw-backs or freaks of -nature which had reproduced types of the past, much more perfect in the -girl than in the man--what was the explanation of these mysteries? -Pork--how came it there? And whence these vegetables of Europe? those -cakes of wheat? This white girl, these half- and quarter-breeds--how -came they to be? It was amazing. In spite of his hunger, he could -hardly eat at first confronted by such a problem. - -A little clicking sound suddenly attracted his attention from the food -as the last bearer presented herself, her hands full of fruits. He -looked down and discovered that the noise was made by a pair of wooden -shoes which she was wearing, which had struck against a stone. A white -woman, wooden shoes, the food of Europe! He almost stopped eating, and -might have done so had he not been so desperately hungry. Well, the -mystery would add zest to the monotonous life of the tropics. He would -solve it somehow; the key must be somewhere on the island; meanwhile -there was breakfast. The food was delicious. It was somewhat -embarrassing to eat with his fingers; he could cut the meat with his -sheath knife, but he made unpleasant weather of it, as a sailor would -say. - -When he had finished, and he played the dual part of Jack Sprat and his -wife, so far as the meat was concerned, for he cleaned the platter, the -old man produced a rudely fashioned pipe made from some wood unfamiliar -to him. With the pipe came a wooden box filled with tobacco, and one of -the children, at a word, brought him a stick, the end of which was a -glowing ember, from a fire in some kind of a stone and clay furnace or -oven before the circle of houses. He could not believe his eyes at -first, and not until he had lighted the pipe and inhaled the fragrant -contents did he know that it was very good tobacco--the last miracle of -that morning, he thought, but no. As he leaned back against the palm -tree, smoking in perfect content, the girl herself handed him a cocoanut -shell filled with, very tolerable native wine. All he needed for -absolute happiness was a book of verses, her presence, and the -withdrawal of the rest of the crowd, he reflected whimsically, -remembering Omar Khayyam. And in all this he had not once thought of -Stephanie Maynard. - -His material wants having been thus attended to, the old man spoke to -the rest, and they slowly withdrew, going about their several vocations. -It was yet early in the morning, and he noticed that some of the men and -women proceeded in various directions, carrying what seemed to him to be -rude primitive agricultural implements. It flashed upon Beekman that -they were going to till the fields, which were, after all, only garden -patches. No great area under cultivation was required to support that -little handful. The dogs, whose bark he had heard, were as friendly as -the rest. Such a thing as passion or anger or hatred seemed out of place -and as foreign to the spot as they might have seemed in Eden before Eve -ate the apple. - -The old man, the young girl, and the young man alone remained with him. -They spoke to one another now and then, but conversation with him was -impossible. They could only express their interest by eager and intense -staring. The old man finally came close to him and examined him. He -felt of the cloth of his shirt and trousers, looked critically at his -stout leather shoes, expressed great interest in the sheath knife, -broad-bladed and sharp, which he handed to the young man, who also -examined it and who was also much taken with the bright, brass-headed -boat hook. Beekman wished that he had some trinket or jewel, something -which he could have given to the girl, but, alas, he had nothing; not -even a finger ring. - -While they were examining him, his eyes were roving about the -settlement. In the first place, he noticed that instead of being houses -of wood, the dwellings were built of stone, obviously the volcanic rock -of the island. There were more houses than such a number of people -would require. He counted a score of huts placed in an irregular way -under the trees. They were different from any South Sea island houses -he had ever seen or heard of, their only point of resemblance being the -roofs thatched with palm leaves. One house in the center of the -settlement was much larger than any of the rest. Its gable of stone was -surmounted by what appeared to him to be the remains of a tower. It was -a perfect parallelogram. He recalled, as he looked at it lazily, that -it was like the Noah's Ark toys of his childhood. In the front was a -doorway, closed by a worm-eaten wooden door. This building, like many -of the others, was overgrown with vines, creepers of which he did not -know the name, some of them brilliant with gorgeous blossoms. The -doorways of all the other buildings held no doors. Woven-grass curtains -depended from some of them, but even they were generally drawn back. -Each house was provided with a small, roofless, stone porch, a stoop, he -called it, in default of a better name, and there was a singular -European look about them, but a European look of the past. - -Refreshed by his meal and his smoke, and tired of sitting, he rose to -his feet and, followed by the trio, he strolled off in the direction of -the nearest house. When he would have entered it, the old man -interposed, shook his head gently, took him by the hand and led him -through the village to a house exactly like the others, but on the -outskirts of the settlement. He pointed inward, and Beekman divined -that here was the place allotted to him. He entered. Plenty of light -came through the windows on either side, although, they were screened -with creepers. The place was stone floored, the flooring covered with -sand. It was absolutely bare of furniture and spotlessly clean. There -was nothing to be seen, and so he tarried not at all therein. - -He turned and, no one opposing, retraced his steps, the others still -following until he reached the little platform in front of the largest -house with the wooden door. They were all watching him keenly, and when -he stepped up on the platform and laid his hand on the door, the old -man, with astonishing agility, climbed up beside him, thrust himself -between Beekman and the door, and with rapid speech and almost fierce -gesticulation barred the way. The young man joined him also, and, -frowning angrily, in spite of a cry of protest from the girl, who -watched them with alarm, he thrust Beekman back rather violently. The -American could have handled them both without difficulty; indeed, given -back his strength and vigor, he almost felt he could handle the whole -village, but he had no desire to incur the animosity of his kindly -hosts, and so he stepped back at once, smiling and bowing as if to -apologize for the mistake. - -The little outbreak or struggle was over almost as soon as it had begun. -The only person who seemed very much annoyed by it was the girl. -Obviously, to the surprise of the young man, she appeared to be scolding -him vehemently, and in her reprehension the old man was also included. -Of course, Beekman decided that he would get into that building as soon -as possible. He was growing more intensely curious as to the whole -situation with every moment, and it flashed upon him that perhaps the -solution of the mystery was to be found therein. - -In the course of the day, during which he was left entirely to his own -devices by the rest of the people, although vigilantly accompanied -everywhere by the three, he tried his smattering of South Sea _lingua -franca_, but without making himself understood at all. At noon he was -fed again, and in the afternoon he was glad to go to his own house to -take a siesta, where he now found grass and leaves piled in the corner -with native cloth robes thrown over them. He slept until he was -awakened by a touch. - -The girl bending over him in the faint light of the evening seemed like -an angel or vision. He rose and followed her without, discovering that -the sun had set and that the community was about to partake of its -evening meal, which apparently they had in common. They were standing -around platters of food when he came, and what was his surprise to see -the old man straighten up, stretch out his hands, and say something -which sounded like an appeal to God, or the gods, while the rest stood -with bowed heads. - -In the old man's words there was something more familiar than in any -others which had been employed, and as he stared at the strange scene, -the clue to the speech of the people flashed into his mind. Among other -things in which old Derrick Beekman had caused his son to be well -instructed had been the language of his forebears. He had been -thoroughly taught to read and speak Dutch, and, although it was an -accomplishment of which he had made little use, he had been too well -grounded to have lost much of his acquired facility in the years since -he had left college. - -The old man was certainly saying some sort of grace-before-meat in a -language which sounded like Dutch, or as Dutch might have sounded two -hundred years ago, and which bore the same relation to the modern -language that English of that period might have borne to current speech. -No, it bore less relation, because it was debased by an admixture of -some other language which he did not know, but he was certain that Dutch -was at the basis of the speech. Never imagining such a thing, he had -not made the discovery until that prayer. He at once sought to avail -himself of his new discovery. Carefully choosing his words, he turned -to the girl, who hovered very near him, to the growing disquiet of the -young man, and thus addressed her: - -"I know your speech. It is that my fathers spoke long ago." - -He spoke slowly and with the utmost precision. At the first word the -girl clapped her hands, broke into a smile that was as beautiful as the -features that formed it. He saw the flash of her white teeth behind her -red lips in the twilight and her eyes shone brighter than ever. She -clasped his hand and drew it to her breast in her rapture. - -"It is wonderful," she cried. "You speak as I." - -As his hand touched her, as he felt the quickened beat of her heart, he -was thrilled as he had never been thrilled before. It needed but the -rough gesture of the jealous young man who tore his hand from hers to -complete a thralldom and an enchantment which had begun, although he -knew it not, when he had seen her poised upon the cliff above him in the -light of the morning. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVII* - - *THE HOUSE THAT WAS TABOO* - - -Conversation between the islanders and their visitor was practicable and -possible, but at first neither easy nor fluent. It would not have been -such, even to a Hollander, but when on the one side there was a certain -unfamiliarity with a language not native to the user, unfamiliarity -added to by the time that had elapsed since he had made use of it, and -on the other side a language which had been largely forgotten in its -nicer usages, and which had been materially changed by a large admixture -of Polynesian, the interchange of ideas was at first hard. Still, -communication was possible and not too difficult; indeed, it became -increasingly easy with practice. - -The islanders, the monotony of whose sequestered lives could scarcely be -imagined, welcomed the new arrival with the greatest satisfaction. -However they came there and whatever the length of their stay, and to -neither of these questions could they give him the slightest answer, -Beekman soon discovered that they had completely forgotten even such -civilization as the world had attained to when they had left it. The -only traditions they possessed were first of all a vague and indefinite -knowledge of God, whom they regarded as a species of Great Spirit or -Deity, who looked after them and to whom they must render a certain -amount of respect. They had no idea of the meaning of the jargon into -which their prayers had degenerated. Only the idea of some Spirit as a -power to be prayed to and propitiated remained. This spirit they called -Tangaroa--a purely Polynesian name. - -The only religious observance he noted was that strange performance -before the evening meal. The sunrise visits of the girl to the cliff -opposite the rift in the harbor whence she had a view of the sea through -the opening for miles, and in which she never failed, perhaps had some -religious significance, although the girl could not tell him why she did -it or what was meant by it. Nevertheless, so strangely had the -necessity for the routine been impressed upon the consciousness of these -people that she, being appointed to the task, followed it without rhyme -or reason. Beekman suspected that originally it had been a fruitless -watch for some rescuing ship, the meaning of which, like the hope, had -faded out of recollection with the passing years. - -The second tradition that remained was that many, many years ago--how -many they could not express---their forebears had landed on that island. -Where they had come from, why they had elected that place, why they had -never departed from it, they knew not. - -The island and everything on it, with one exception, was free to -Beekman, who wandered whither he would without let or hindrance. There -was but one spot that was tabooed to him. Indeed, they used the -Polynesian word "taboo" when he sought to enter it, and that was the -largest building with the worm-eaten door. - -Several times Beekman had left his hut in the night, intending to gain -an entrance to that building surreptitiously, in the hope of solving the -mystery, but at first, to his great surprise, he had found that his own -hut was under observation of one of the older men or women, who, indeed, -could not have prevented him from doing what he pleased, but who served -as a bar to action, nevertheless, because Beekman did not want to -involve himself in difficulties or to wound the sensibilities of those -who had received him so hospitably and entreated him so kindly. -Thereupon after the exchange of a few words, he had invariably returned -to his house, deferring the attempt to some more convenient season. - -The mystery of the dwelling houses was, of course, explained just as -soon as he got the clue to the language of the people. They were Dutch -houses. He could reconstruct some of the story with reasonable -certainty. A party of Hollanders, accompanied by the natives, had -landed on that island in some long distant period. The time of their -landing had to be removed far back to account for the present -degeneration through continuous intermarriage. - -So far as he could tell, there was no evidence of Polynesian blood in -two of the inhabitants of the island; old Kobo, the patriarch, and -Truda, the young girl. These were the names they bore, and Beekman made -no difficulty about identifying them with Jacobus and Gertrude. As far -as he could tell, they were pure-blooded Dutch. Kobo, the chief, was -the grandfather of Truda. There was less Polynesian blood in Hano, the -young man who was destined to be the husband of Truda, than in any of -the rest, but that there was some was obvious. - -There was character, personality, individuality about these three in -varying degrees. The rest of the islanders simply filled in and made, -as it were, a fading human background. They counted for little or -nothing. They were industrious people in the fashion of the tropics. -They had evidently brought with them the products of Holland, even -including tulips; and such of them as would grow in the tropics they had -cultivated and continued to cultivate. They had not failed to -perpetuate all that had ministered to their human daily needs, even as -they had not altogether forgotten God and things spiritual and mental. - -They would not allow Beekman to do any work. He more than paid for his -board by the wonderful stories he told them, gathered after the evening -meal, when men and women alike smoked their curious pipes. There were -no books on the island. They had completely forgotten how to read. They -had lost all memory of the outside world. They were circumscribed, shut -in, by the towering walls of the crater, and their lives had grown -correspondingly narrow and monotonous. Beekman had to adapt his remarks -as if he were talking to children, and backward children, at that; yet -two at least of his auditors manifested a quick comprehension and one -far surpassed the rest. The old man and the young man easily -understood, the girl even anticipated. - -Kobo was too old to move about much. Hano had his work to do with the -rest, but by a sort of universal consent Truda was a free agent. She -and Derrick, at the latter's suggestion, thoroughly explored the island. -It was due to him that certain things were rediscovered that had been -forgotten, or, if remembered, considered of no moment. - -With the girl as his guide and attendant he made a careful survey of the -vast cup in which they lived. He was not much of a geologist, but it -was easy to decide that here was the crest of a volcano, with a double -cone, one being the great cylinder that formed the harbor; this, the -smaller, the narrower, possibly the deeper entrance to the subterranean -fires of long ago, had been filled with water from the sea through the -rift. Into the other, the greater and shallower orifice, the earth had -come, birds had dropped seeds, vegetation had sprung up and the oasis -resulted. - -There was but one source of fresh water on the island, the great spring -that bubbled from a low cone in front of the palm-covered hillock where -the houses were placed. The water was fresh, slightly mineral, slightly -effervescent at its exit. It ran through tortuous channels until it -pierced the encircling wall of rock through a rift, finally falling over -the high cliff to the gulf beneath. So near as he could determine, that -spring had never failed them. - -The surrounding rock walls of the oasis were unsurmountable, both -outside and in, in most places, like the walls of the harbor. There -were two or three exceptions, however. There was an easy and practicable -path to the place where he had first seen the girl performing that -strange and mysterious ceremony of greeting, as it were, to the rising -sun. There had been some objection to his going there. It seemed to be -the custom that she and she alone should make that trip, but he had -insisted and had soon acquired the habit of going with her every -morning. - -Through the rift a vast expanse of sea could be seen to the south and -eastward. They could peer down into the gulf and mark the white water -breaking on the barriers and the stretch of tossing sea beyond. - -"Have you ever seen anything there?" he asked Truda. - -"A few times, yes." - -"What was it?" - -"Smoke as from afar." - -"And did you never think what it might mean?" - -"How should I?" - -"Have you never wanted to get away from this island?" - -"What is there beyond?" - -"The world." - -"What is the world?" - -"Love and hate, victory and defeat, failure and success--life is there!" - -"I know not what you mean." - -"Yet you are going to marry Hano?" - -The girl looked at him curiously. - -"When I am ready I must go to his house. Grandfather will join our -hands. I shall be his woman." - -"Do you like the idea?" - -"He was the best before you came. What else was there for me?" - -"But now that I have come?" - -"It is different here," said the girl, laying her hand upon her heart. - -"That is love," said the man. - -"And do you feel it?" - -This was a question indeed, which, had she been a modern woman, he might -have answered lightly. There was something different about this girl. -He hesitated. He was not quite sure. They had retraced their steps and -were returning to the settlement. In the path suddenly appeared Hano, -his face was black with jealous rage. He did not lack courage, for he -stopped the two and faced the man. - -"I will not have you go with her," he cried. - -"I am not yours yet," said the girl, pushing forward and waving him -aside. "You shall not speak so to my friend." - -Beekman had said and done nothing. With a low, passionate cry Hano -turned and fled. His time was not yet. - -"That is hate," said the man; "jealousy." - -"I understand. He likes you not because I like you and you like me." - -"Yes." - -The maiden walked along silent and thoughtful. - -"It is a pity that you came," she said at last. - -"Why?" - -"I was content before." - -"And now!" - -"It is trouble here," she answered, laying her hand on her heart again. - -"That is life," said the man, but this time she could not quite -comprehend. - -She appealed to him as a wild bird might have appealed to its destined -mate in the forest glade ere the nest was builded. Indeed, she appealed -to him as no woman on earth ever had appealed to him. Stephanie Maynard -was not a girl to be disdained by any one, but there, in that idyllic -oasis of the sea, his remembrance of her was as of an artificial -creature, subject to conventions, hampered with clothes, fettered by -circumstances. And her dark beauty faded into insignificance compared -to the radiant gold of this child of nature, of innocence, of freedom. - -Beekman had no idea where that island lay. That it had been unvisited, -indeed avoided, by ships was obvious, and the reason was easy to -discover. From the decks of a ship, if one by chance passed near it, -nothing but arid rock, surrounded by dangerous reefs, could be seen. He -had climbed, attended by the faithful Truda, the few other points -whereby one could reach the top of the wall. There was no gulf or -harbor on any other side. The walls ran down sharply to the sea, -sloping here and there, but never practicable, and about all was flung -the great encircling barrier reef upon which assaulting waves ever -surrounded the desolate looking peak of rock with a ring of white foam -and spray, as marked and as beautiful in the cobalt sea as it was -dangerous to a ship. He doubted if even a great beacon fire upon the -wall would attract a ship. If it were seen it might be deemed only a -recrudescence of volcanic fires. It seemed to him that he might perhaps -pass the rest of his life there. Certainly he would, unless he could -devise some way to get off unaided. He did not reflect that perhaps he -might eventually be sought if the boatswain ever got word to New York. -Even if a ship were sent to find him, the chances of success would be so -faint as to be negligible. The prospect was appalling, would have been -insupportable but for Truda. - -Why should he not take her for his own, willing or unwilling though the -islanders might be, pleased or displeased though Hano might show -himself? Although she could not describe it, the girl had grown -passionately devoted to him in that brief but most familiar intercourse -and intimacy, that was as close as could obtain. He felt sorry for Hano -in a way, the only man on the island who might have aspired to this -beautiful maiden, when he found himself suddenly thrust back, his place -taken by this stranger; for Hano life, which had been so fair, became -horrible. - -With fiery energy Hano paid more direct court to Truda. He protested -vehemently to Kobo. He sought to enlist the sympathies of the other men -and women on the island and perhaps succeeded to some extent, but not to -the point of open resistance. The islanders looked up to Hano, but they -looked up much more to Truda herself, whose beauty and purity of blood -particularly appealed to them, and they were mightily afraid of stern -old Kobo, who seemed to have the determination of matters in hand, and -who was much attracted to this new inhabitant cast up by the sea upon -their shores. - -As the days slipped by, as his association with the maiden revealed more -and more a simplicity of mind, a tractability of soul, a brightness of -spirit, a quickness of intellect, that accorded with her absolute -physical perfection, Beekman became more and more in love with her. He -set himself to teach her to speak English, and she learned with the -facility of a child. He could not teach her to read or write. He had -no material for either, but he opened to her his well-stored mind. -There was little else to do, in fact, and the two sat together for -hours, the woman receiving, the man giving. The fact that she soon -learned to speak in English added to the awe in which most of the -islanders held the girl, increased the hatred of Hano, and at last -aroused the suspicion of the patriarch. - -Beekman was careful of the feelings of his new friends, but when it came -to a question between their feelings and the woman he loved it was not -difficult to see that everything else must give way. In all these -idyllic days the American had held fast to his purpose of getting into -that building, which was the only spot from which he was barred, in -order that he might solve the mystery of the presence of this people on -the island, the key to which he was sure would be found there. - -One circumstance whetted his curiosity more than any other thing. On -the night of the full moon every month old Kobo disappeared. -Questioning Truda, he discovered that always at that period in the month -old Kobo spent the day alone in the tabooed building. Truda did not -know why. She could not tell what he did there, but it was the custom, -and when Kobo died the next oldest man would do the same. The rest of -the people were not allowed in the building during the day, but before -nightfall the door was thrown open. Kobo stood in the doorway and -beckoned. The people had been waiting and they all, down to the smallest -child, walked in. Truda came last, but when Beekman would have -followed, Hano shut the door in his face. Whatever the rite that was -being observed, it was evidently not meet that he, a stranger, should -see it, much less participate in it. - -They stayed in the building a long time, long after nightfall, and their -supper that night was something in the nature of a feast. It was late -when they retired. It seemed to Beekman that they would be heavy with -sleep and that perhaps such a night would afford him an opportunity to -get into that building. He bided his time. He was careful to say -nothing whatever which would arouse any suspicions. He did not even ask -the meaning of the strange ceremony when he bade Truda good night and -went into his own house some months after his arrival at the island. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVIII* - - *MOONLIGHT MIDNIGHT MADNESS* - - -In order effectively to lull suspicion, after the first few weeks on the -island, Beekman had made no attempt at all to approach the forbidden -building, not even by day. He rightly judged that the listless people of -the island would presently tire of their unwonted night duty and the -watch would be abandoned eventually. Nevertheless, he neglected no -precaution on that particular night as he stole out of his house. The -tropic moon filled the sky with splendor and the island with light. It -was easy for him, however, to keep in the dark shadow of the palm trees. - -Walking with the utmost circumspection and care and looking about him -constantly for any possible watcher, he at last reached the platform -whence he had been so violently thrust on the day of his arrival. The -building was placed in such a way that the platform was in deep shadow. -He stepped up on it and tried the door. It did not give to his -pressure, and although he finally thrust against it with all his -strength, which was considerable now that he was completely restored to -health and bodily vigor, it remained immovable. - -He had examined the door carefully as he had passed it many times, and -he now decided that it must be secured inside by bars of wood in slots. -There was no latch or lock outside of it. Only old Kobo knew its -secret. - -Balked there, he stole around the building, taking care to keep on the -side away from the moon. He hoped that there might be another entrance -at the back. If he could find one it would be better for him to get in -that way, rather than by climbing through one of the windows, which were -much higher from the ground than those of the ordinary houses of the -settlement. That method of entrance indeed presented no difficulty to -an active man, especially as he would be aided by the creepers, but to -attempt it was apt to attract attention and, therefore, it must only be -resorted to in default of any better plan. - -He followed the wall carefully, turned the rear corner of the building -and discovered, what he had half suspected, beneath a screen of vines -and leafage an opening set low down near the ground. He parted the -vines and peered into the thick darkness within. There was, of course, -absolutely nothing to be seen. He had no means of making a light. For -a moment he had an idea of going back to the oven, a Dutch oven, he -called it now, where a fire was constantly kept burning, to kindle a -torch. He decided that would be too risky and had just made up his mind -to venture into the black pit that yawned before him, not a single -detail of which was visible, when a hand fell lightly on his shoulder. - -He turned, clenched his fist and then let his hands fall as he saw in -the shadow the familiar face and figure of Truda. She laid her finger -upon her lips, turned, took a few steps away from him, looked back and -beckoned to him. He followed her instantly. There was something so -emphatic and suggestive in her gesture and bearing that he could do -nothing else. Besides, he was never so happy as when in her presence, -and she had never looked so beautiful to him as then in the shadow, seen -wraithlike, against the bright moonlight beyond. The exploration of the -building could wait. - -One remarkable thing he had noticed about Truda was the soundlessness -with which she moved. She never seemed to break a twig or rustle a leaf -as she passed. There was something fairylike in her motions. It gave -him an eery feeling to see her wavering in the moonlight before him like -the shadows of wind-blown leaves. He followed after, using the same -caution as before. He wondered whither she would lead him and what -would be the end of this adventure. He had become measurably familiar -with the island paths during his sojourn of several months upon it and -he soon realized that she was leading him to that point of vantage -whence every morning it was her duty to watch the sea. It seemed to him -an appropriate and beautiful place for a midnight tryst, and he followed -her with a beating heart, gladder for every step he took. He did not -attempt to overtake her. Indeed, he had tested her before, and for short -distances she was fleeter than he; besides, although they were now far -from the settlement, the spell of the night was upon them with all its -mystery. They must make no noise on any account. He did not possess -her power of silent motion. She put her feet down by instinct, he by -calculation. This handicapped him. Besides, he was quite content to -follow. - -Meanwhile, he redoubled his care. One never knew, he thought, when Hano -might appear, and old Kobo had a habit of presenting himself suddenly at -unexpected moments. So they went on and on. He felt like the fabled -knight of old, who pursued fleeting Fortune. - -They came at last out from the shadow of the trees, left the embrace of -the jungle, and mounted the rocky, narrow path, which led to the crest -of wall, and it was not until that crest was reached that he joined her. -The wall was broad, smooth, and level where they stood. It was a sort -of little amphitheater, and there were blocks of stone, which made -convenient resting places. When he had seen them before he almost come -to the conclusion that it had been artificially arranged. At any rate, -it was admirably adapted, both as a place from which to watch the sea -and as a place for lovers' meeting in a midnight-moonlight hour. - -She did not offer to sit down and the two stood side by side gazing -seaward. Beneath them the cliffs fell sheer into the cuplike bay, its -bottom stygian in its blackness. The descending walls of the great -cylinder were lost in that darkness. Their upper edges cut a sharp -silhouette against the light sky. He had tried several times to get to -the points of the walls on one side or the other of the rift, but there -was no passing. The place where they stood was not only the best, but -the only place from which to survey the cup itself and through the rift -the great sea beyond. The moonlight streamed in a broad bar through the -upper part of the opening and threw the upper wall on one side into high -relief. He noticed that, were the moon in a certain position, which it -was now rapidly approaching, it would flood the whole cup with light as -the morning sun did, but it had not yet reached that place in the -heavens, and save for that one portion of the opposite wall the Egyptian -darkness still prevailed. - -The effect of the light beyond the rift was tremendous. They could see -clearly a stretch of the barrier reef through the opening. Mighty waves -broke over it. Huge rollers fell upon it. They could hear faintly in -the silence of the tropic night the crash of the tumultuous silver seas -rushing through the jagged needles of the barrier. That was the only -sound that came to them, unless they could hear the beat of their own -hearts. - -They stood and stared at the enchanting picture in silence. The -communion of equal appreciation, of sympathy, of love, was the tie that -bound. The same throb of passion filled the breasts of the man and the -woman. It was she who spoke. - -"I cannot remember," she whispered, attuning her voice to the soft -silence of the night, "a morning on which I have not stood here, but -this is the first time that I have ever come at night." - -"The first time," whispered the man, passionately, "and with me!" - -He had made little secret, none at all, indeed, of his admiration for -her, but this time there was a new note of rapturous admiration in his -low whisper, to which her soul vibrated. She looked at him quickly, -shrinking away a little. His arm went swiftly toward her and caught her -slender wrist. He drew her to his breast. In his arms she felt the -heart throb, which she had before inferred. She struggled a moment and -then yielded to the quick passion with which he drew her to him. She -upturned her face and for the first time he kissed her. They had lost -the habit of kissing, these forgotten people, and no one had ever -pressed her lips before. - -"What is that? What is it that you do?" she whispered when she could -command speech. - -"I kiss you," he answered. - -"I know not that word. What does it mean?" - -"It means that I love you, that I am yours and you are mine." - -"It is very sweet," said the girl, artlessly. "Once more." - -She lifted her lips to his in innocent invitation, which indeed he did -not need. - -"It was not for this," she murmured at last, "that I brought you here, -although it makes me very happy, and I am glad we came." - -"I, too, am glad," said the man, a little unsteadily; "but why did you -bring me here?" - -"It was death for you to go in that house." - -"Death? Whence would it come?" - -"The spirits. None goes there but the oldest man, except on the day of -the full moon, when we all come in, but we stay near the door, while -only Kobo goes to the further end." - -"What does he there?" - -"I know not. The spirits speak to him. Our faces are hidden. No one -goes into the building except then. It is taboo, death. I do not know -what they would do to you if they caught you there," she went on, -switching from the spirits to the living with wondrous facility. - -"Truda," said the man, "I have no desire to anger your gods, but I must -go there. You do not know how you came here." - -"Kobo says that many, many, many moons ago, so great in number that no -one can count them, our ancestors came from across the sea. That is -all." - -"I want to find out why they came and all about them and I feel that I -can find out there. The great God I worship, who has preserved me from -all the perils of the deep, will watch over me. I must go there." - -"But not tonight. It is the one night when Kobo sleeps within. The -spirits obey him. I know not what they might do." - -"Tonight," answered Beekman, "I have better occupation." - -"And what is that?" - -"To be here with you, to love you with none by to look or listen." He -pointed to a low, broad shelf of rock. "Sit there," he said, "and I -will sit here at your feet." Throwing himself down, he leaned his elbow -on her knee and looked up at her. "Do you know," he continued, "there -is a land far across the sea, a land of brave men and beautiful women? -They speak your language. Your fathers must have come from there as -mine did. I want to find out. Some day we shall get back to the world -and that land, you and I. I want to know all about you." - -"That you are here, that I love you, is enough for me to know," -whispered the woman, caressing his head with her hand. - -He kissed the pretty palm and smiled up at her as he answered. - -"But that is not enough for me." - -"You say there are other women in that land?" - -"Many." - -"How is it called?" - -"Holland. It is a low country that borders the sea." - -"And those women, they are beautiful?" - -"Many of them." - -"Would you love me if you should see others here?" - -The man laughed. - -"You are the most beautiful woman on this island." - -"Yes," said the girl, simply. - -"And in the world," he whispered. "But no matter how others might look, -they would be nothing to me." - -And again he gave no thought to Stephanie Maynard nor to any other woman -in the lands far away beyond the seas. She smiled down at him. - -"It is good to hear you say that." - -"It is my turn now," he went on. "There are other men there, bigger, -stronger, wiser, handsomer men than I. When you shall see them--" - -"I shall never see any one but you anywhere all my life," answered the -girl, simply. - -"But Hano?" - -"I was to marry him only because he was the best." - -"And if you found one better than I?" - -"There could be none." - -"I shall do my best to keep you in that belief," answered Beekman. "Oh, -Truda, beautiful, innocent little Truda, when I lay starving, dying on -that barrier yonder, my hands red with the blood of men, parted -apparently forever from all that made life worth while to me, I cursed -my fortune and would fain have died, but now--" - -"But now?" whispered the girl. - -"Now I have passed from death unto life, for you are worth it all. I am -glad to tell you so on this very spot. Here where I saw you first. -Look," he said, rising and drawing her up close to him. They stepped to -the very brink of the cliff. - -The whole great cup was now brilliantly illuminated by the moonlight, -which streamed straight through the rift and turned the black water far -beneath them into a still mirror of polished silver. - -"I see." - -"I lay there on the sand, half-fainting, half-dead, staring upward at -these grim, forbidding walls, when, as the sunlight broke through the -rift, I saw you for the first time. I never had seen anything so -beautiful, so dazzling to the eye. I was doubtful whether you were a -human being even. I thought you might be some vision, some spirit of the -air, some messenger from the sun." - -"Do the men in that world whence you came all talk like you, Beek--man?" -queried Truda, using the only name she knew him by. - -"None," answered the man, "because none of them have ever seen you." - -In such sweet and passionate converse the night hours drew on unmarked -until the gray light on the horizon bespoke the coming of dawn. - -"We must go back," said the girl, withdrawing herself for the last time -from the sweet embrace. "I would not have any one find us here. In the -morning I shall tell Kobo that I will have no other man but you." - -"Let us wait," said the man, "until I have visited that building and -wrested from it the secrets that must be there, then we shall tell him -and you shall be my wife." - -"I know not that English word yet, but you will be my man, and I will be -your woman when Kobo, without whom these things cannot rightly be, shall -have worshipped the spirits and said the words." - -"It is well. You say Kobo only sleeps in the building this one night?" - -"That is all." - -"Tomorrow we shall try it again." - -"I will come with you," said the girl, "although I am very fearful." - -"And those spirits?" smiled the man. - -"If they hurt you they must hurt me, too; for without you," she went on -frankly, "I cannot live upon this island." - - - - - *CHAPTER XIX* - - *THE KISS THAT WAS DIFFERENT* - - -Now, Truda was terribly afraid to visit the mysterious house--one -doesn't get rid of a taboo inherited through two hundred years in a -night--but her timidity had been somewhat modified by the indifference -with which the man she loved and whom, she revered as a god, viewed the -whole situation, at least from a supernatural standpoint, and, as of -old, knowledge was power. - -Her intercourse with Beekman had been immensely enlightening. Latent -reserves of quality, inherited capacities long dormant, had been -summoned to the surface and quickened into action by his converse, and -by their association so intimate and so sweet. Although the period of -their intimacy had not been long, yet it was not alone in matters of the -heart that Beekman had devoted himself to her enlightenment. At first he -had tried to teach her everything, but, realizing the bewilderment that -must follow such a process, he had striven to systematize his -instruction in order that she might grow in wisdom if not in stature, -and that he might introduce her gradually to the heritage of the -present. The results of the process had been wonderful. - -The progressive degeneration, resultant of close inbreeding, which had -brought most of the islanders to so low a point physically and mentally, -seemed to have been reversed in her by some curiously interesting and -delightful freak of nature. It was easy to see that she possessed an -unusual mind, and that, given a chance, she could take her place in the -front rank of intelligence and capacity. Rarely had so fascinating a -task of writing what one would upon an unmarred slate been presented to -any one, and Beekman entered upon it eagerly and pursued it with zest. -He was very human; he was a man, this woman was clearly his in any way -he wished her to be. There was temptation in the knowledge. He -realized it, fought it down, wondering if he could or would strive -against it always. He could foresee that it would grow stronger as the -intimacy deepened. He feared that in the end-- - -To create is the supremest joy of humanity, in that effort he comes -nearest to realizing the measure of the divinity that is in him. There -are no people so happy as those who achieve things in art, science, -literature, government, business, what you will. The loveliest of -playthings, the most promising subject for experiment had been put in -Beekman's hands. She was his to make what he would. Naturally, he fell -in love with her, and not alone with her beauty of face and figure, her -transparent purity and the sweetness of her childlike innocence, -although these were enough to have bewitched any man, but with the other -qualities that he saw budding and blossoming under his touch. - -So while Truda could not shake off the inherited fears of so many -decades in a moment, yet two things materially modified them; her -growing consciousness of a self in her other than the mere animal, and -her great trust and devotion to the man for whom she had conceived and -entertained an instant passion even greater than that he lavished upon -her. These made her the more willing to brave the mysterious terrors of -the tabooed hut. She had been in the building a number of times on -ceremonial occasions, and her curiosity had been sufficient to enable -her by furtive glances to master many details, which she told him -frankly, and which he declared would be of great help to them in their -investigations. - -By agreement the two met early in the evening, for the people of the -island were accustomed to go to sleep with the dark, and, as a rule, an -hour after sunset the place was as quiet as at midnight. The moon had -not yet risen, which contributed to their desire for concealment. -Warned by his experience of the night before, Beekman made no effort at -the door, but, followed by his timid yet confiding companion, he boldly -entered the opening at the rear. Light, of course, was out of the -question. A torch from the fire was possible, but the risk of getting -that was too great for the attempt to be made. He had provided himself -with a long, slender staff and with this he felt about until he -satisfied himself that he was in a small, unpaved enclosure, or room. -Having assured himself that no pitfall or gulf was in the floor by means -of his staff, he laid his hand upon the wall and walked cautiously along -it. - -Truda, of course, had never entered this end of the building. She had -never even peeped in as she passed by, and she could aid him not at all. -Indeed, she clung to him with terror, which, in spite of her efforts, -grew with every silent, slow-passing moment. Beekman had an idea there -must be some connection between this chamber and the main floor of the -building. He could tell that he had descended below the level of the -floor in entering and on lifting his staff he discovered that the -ceiling was just above his head. - -His anticipations were realized, for at the far end he found an opening -just wide enough to admit a man. He felt the walls on either side of -the opening, and with his staff discovered steps beneath his feet, -leading upward. He stepped into the opening, cast his eyes upward and -discovered a faint light above his head. Assured, he mounted boldly, -Truda still following, and, after a short ascent, he stood on the floor -of the building at the end opposite the main door. - -The moon had just risen. Indeed, he had timed his entrance with that in -mind, and although the unglazed window openings were covered with a -thick overgrowth of vines, enough light filtered through to enable him -to see sufficiently clearly. - -He found himself in a stone-paved room, about twenty by forty feet. -About ten feet from where he stood a low wall, or balustrade, of the -soft, easily cut stone, with which the island abounded, ran across the -narrower axis. There was an opening in the middle of this wall. The -floor on his side of the balustrade was raised several steps above the -main floor. In the center of the end to his right, as he looked toward -the entrance door, was a pile of stones, roughly squared with a flat -top. On this pile of stones lay two dark objects, one on either end. -Between the two dark objects on the central pile something rose above -the stone table. On the further side of it blocks of stone were piled -against the wall in rude semblance of a seat. - -Now, there was apparently nothing in the building to alarm any one, yet -Beekman found his heart beating rapidly as he stood there, the shrinking -girl by his side, clasping his arm with a fierce and passionate grasp -that bespoke her trepidation. It was absolutely silent within. The -gentle night wind outside slightly stirred the long palm leaves, but no -breeze penetrated within and no sound of their rustling was heard. It -was slightly cold in the building, although the night was warm, with all -the languorous, drowsy heat of tropic midsummer. - -Truda was obviously in a state of panic and Beekman might have been -infected therewith, but he shook himself together, deciding that action -was the best remedy for the situation. He made a step toward the pile -of stones. Truda clutched him more tenaciously than ever. She even -threw her arms about him. - -"Oh, don't go," she whispered. "It is taboo." - -"Nonsense," answered Beekman, sinking his voice to meet hers, "there's -nothing here to hurt us. Have I not told you of the power of my God?" - -"Yes, yes, but He is far away in the sky; our God is here." - -"Wherever He is He can protect me and you," he said as one may humor a -child. He unclasped her arms and slipped his own arm about her waist, -whereat she took some comfort. "Come, we shall see," he added. - -He half led, half carried the girl toward the pile of stone until he -stopped before it. The light from the moon came stronger. He saw the -tall object, the top of which had been in the shadow now fully revealed. - -"Why, it is a cross!" he exclaimed, under his breath, greatly surprised -at this sacred emblem of religion. - -"What is a cross?" - -"The sign of my God. This is His house." - -"Then your God and my God are the same," whispered the girl. - -"I believe so. You see," he continued, "nothing has happened to us." -He laid his hand on the altar, "this must have been a place where your -people who came from beyond the sea worshipped God." - -It was, indeed, obvious that this was the primitive church of those -first settlers upon the island where they had performed their simple -rites, the simulacrum of which in uncomprehended words of prayer had -alone survived the centuries of isolation and separation from their -kind. - -Beekman marveled that he had not thought of it before; but who could -have expected to find a Christian church on an unvisited island in the -South Seas, even though it was obvious that some, at least, of the -present denizens thereof were white people, or had white blood in their -veins? That ruined tower-like structure topping the front gable, at -which he had wondered, had evidently been a belfry, and perhaps it too -had carried a cross. Well, that cross-like tower had fallen away, but -here, on what was surely a rude altar, in a fair state of preservation, -stood the rudely fashioned symbol of the faith, even though it was made -of frailer, more perishable wood. - -Beekman was not a religious man, but even an atheist might have -succumbed to the influences of such a place. He felt the cross -reverently with a tender touch, confirming his eyesight; and then, where -old Kobo knelt uncomprehendingly, following the customs of the past, he -reverently knelt down. He rested his hands on that altar and bowed his -head to it. After a moment, awe-struck Truda followed his example and -knelt by his side. - -What did he pray knowingly? What did the woman pray ignorantly? The -man, that he might have strength to be a clean man, still to cherish and -be faithful to high ideals in a land of no ideals; to observe the laws -of God in this place where there were no laws of man, to act honorably -toward this sweet and trusting child by his side; to take no advantage -of her ignorance, her innocence, her devotion. Yes, he prayed for -strength, and he prayed for deliverance from the island, that he might -take her back to her own kind, that he might add to the graces she -naturally enjoyed the refinements and good things of a civilization -which he alone, ragged, tattered castaway that he was, had enjoyed and -knew the meaning of. And he did not forget to pray that his hands might -be cleansed of the blood of man that was upon them. - -The woman had not been taught to pray, that is, not meaningly. She knew -of few material things for which to ask in that island so bountifully -provided by nature, and the spiritual was still vague and voiceless in -her heart; but for one thing she could petition whatever power there was -above her, who somehow to her untutored mind seemed present and about -her. She prayed that the man she loved might love her and use her -well--the natural prayer of woman! - -After a little time Beekman rose in better heart than he had been since -he had been cast upon the island. He drew Truda to her feet, and there -before the altar, confronting the cross, he kissed her, not with the -passion and fire of the night before, or of the warm, languorous -afternoons when they wandered amid flowers and blossoms 'neath groves of -palm. There was something sacramental in the touch of his lips. There, -that night, at that hour, in that temple so sacred to her, the girl -became a woman. With quick apprehension she felt the difference which -she could not explain. - -"Your God is a very great God,", she whispered, breaking the seal of -that kiss. "He shall be my God." She laid his hand upon her heart -under the soft, sweet round of her immature, innocent breast. "I feel -here that He has spoken." - -"May His blessing be upon you, and may He deal with me as I with you," -said Beekman, deeply moved. - -"We must go," said the girl at last, her heart voicing the "amen" she -knew not how to speak. - -"Wait, I must examine these," returned the man, releasing her. - -He bent toward the dark objects on the altar. The first touch of his -hand told him what they were--books! The light was too dim for him to -make out what books, yet as he lifted the cover and turned the leaves of -the one on the right he decided that it was a printed volume. He -examined the one on the left in the same way and decided that it was a -manuscript volume. One would be the Bible, of course; the other, longer -and thinner, less bulky, the manuscript volume that would tell the -story. - -He picked them both up and tucked them under his arm. Truda had told him -that the church would not be entered until another month had passed and -the full moon came again. He could replace them in good time. He must -examine them at his leisure. - -"Do you think it well to take those things from your God?" whispered the -girl. - -"One," said the man, "is His story. In it He tells us of Himself." - -"And do those things speak?" she asked, wonderingly. - -"To him who understands, yes." - -"And do you understand?" - -"Yes." - -"But I cannot." - -"I shall teach you. Come." - -Quietly as they had come, they descended to the chamber of entrance and -made their way without. They separated in the shadow of the church, and -this time Beekman did not offer to kiss her; but the maiden took no -discomfort or grief from that. She understood. He pressed her hand in -farewell, and the warm splendid vigor of his clasp she carried away with -her. Indeed, she lifted the hand that he had grasped to her cheek. She -laid her head upon that hand when she gained her hut, where she soon -fell asleep to dream of him. - -He had got the precious books. He was consumed with curiosity and -interest, but there was no light by which he could read them. He would -not dare to stand out in the moonlight, which was bright enough at least -to enable him to identify the books. Someone might see him. He must -wait until the morning. He hid the books in a heap of dry fern and -rushes that made his bed, and lay awake for a long time longing for the -day. - - - - - *CHAPTER XX* - - *THE MESSAGE OF THE PAST* - - -The next morning so soon as day broke he turned to his treasure trove. -He could do this without fear, since one of the customs of the island, -which had never been broken save the first time that he had been -summoned from slumber, was an inviolable respect for the dwelling places -of the islanders. None entered another's hut unbidden. The curtain -dropped before the door was a sign that the dweller would be alone, and -it was as strong a barrier to alien entrance as the taboo about the -temple. Was the instinctive protection of privacy a heritage of the -past, too? - -The larger, more bulky book was, as he had suspected. an ancient Bible -printed in old Dutch which he could make shift to read largely because -what he was reading was more or less familiar to him. It was -leather-bound, brass-clasped, and, though it was mildewed and decayed, -the stout paper and the honest ink and the clear type had resisted the -ravages of time in a way that would not be possible even in the best -bound and printed of modern books. - -He laid the Bible reverently aside after quick examination and turned to -the other volume. This also was leather-bound, its pages written over -in the same old-fashioned Dutch. It was much harder to read, but a -glance told him what it was. It was a ship's log book. There were -weather records, observations, nautical comments, and remarks; he -glanced at these and then fell to the story. In it he knew would be -found the solution of the mystery of the presence of Truda and all the -rest on the island. - -It was with beating heart that he pored over the first page. In after -years Derrick Beekman made a fair translation of that wonderful volume -which he had printed upon the finest parchment paper at the most -exclusive printery in the land in a limited edition for his friends and -his descendants, and he presented some of the copies to the great -libraries of the world, where the curious can inspect them and read the -story in full. It is sufficient now to say that this was the log of the -ship _Good Intent_, which Beekman decided to be the English equivalent -of the quaint Dutch name. The _Good Intent_ had belonged to the Dutch -East India Company, and early in the seventeenth century had set sail -from Holland with a good crew commanded by Captain Adrian Harpertzoon -Van Rooy. With him, according to the enumeration, came his brother, -Jacobus Van Rooy, and a number of other sailors, with a few soldiers and -a supercargo, Hendrick Handen. The soldiers were to garrison a factory -in the East Indies, and they were accompanied by their wives; and it -further appeared that Captain Van Rooy had brought with him his wife, -Gertrude. - -The long voyage to the Indian Ocean had been made without untoward -events until a storm had dismasted the ship and she had sprung a leak, -after tremendous and uncontrolled rolling. They had patched up the -leak, rigged a jury mast, and had driven before the wind--their only way -of sailing. They had picked up, near one of the islands, a native canoe -containing nearly a score of Polynesian men and women. The canoe was in -bad shape and about to founder. Captain Van Rooy had charitably -received the natives aboard his own almost wrecked ship. It was -impossible for him to land them in that storm, and they had wit enough -to see that their only chance lay in going with him or sinking. - -After sailing many days, the _Good Intent_ was run into the vast cuplike -harbor. Evidently there had been an opening through the barrier reef at -that time. They had beached her and made their way to the top of the -island, which they found uninhabited, but fertile and teeming with plant -life. They had stripped the ship of her cargo and equipment, and it had -been Captain Van Rooy's intention to build a boat out of her when his -heterogeneous company had recovered from the hardships of the terrible -voyage, during the latter part of which they had suffered greatly from -the dreadful scourge of scurvy; but some catastrophe had swept the hulk -out of the harbor and had blocked up the opening in the reef. Beekman -could not gather what it was, an earthquake or a tidal wave. Whatever -it was, Captain Van Rooy had been marooned with a dozen surviving Dutch -soldiers and sailors and his brother and mate Jacobus; Handen, the -supercargo; with eight women, the wives of as many soldiers, and the -captain's own wife, together with half a dozen Polynesian men and twice -as many women.[#] - - -[#] There is historic parallel to this incident in a similar settlement -of Dutch and natives on the little Island of Kissa, where they were left -unvisited and forgotten for over two hundred years.--C.T.B. - - -The book described in detail the building of the settlement. The stone -was easily quarried. They were solid and substantial people, these -Dutchmen. They had built their houses in that way. They had built a -church, too; had endeavored to act as civilized, God-fearing Christians -should. The counting of time had soon been lost. Entries in the log -book, at first very full, grew more and more infrequent. There was, -indeed, little to note. Nothing happened. Life was as monotonously -pleasant then as now. They had saved seeds and plants, and some -European animals such as dogs and pigs--the animals multiplied; the -seeds, being planted, grew and offered a welcome supplement to the -fruits of the tropic island. - -By and by the entries were confined to records of marriages, births, -deaths. The Polynesian men appeared to have died first. Captain Van -Rooy, while he lived, had acted as the schoolmaster and the spiritual -leader of the inhabitants. He had married them in due and proper form. -Their marriages were recorded in the log book. The births of their -children were entered. He had allotted to these records a section of -the book which was even yet not full. It was possible to trace the lines -of descent of different families for as many as six generations. - -When he had died, others, obviously less skillful with the pen, less -well informed, but with good intent, took up the task of keeping the -records. Beekman afterwards made calculations based upon the probable -duration of lives, and found that they had managed to keep the record, -although more and more imperfectly, until the birth of old Kobo, the -present patriarch of the island, who was Truda's grandfather--descendant -of the first Jacobus, certainly. Of course all of these things did not -come to Beekman at once, but gradually. As the summary of his -investigations is alone necessary for this history, they are set down. - -He discovered that old Captain Van Rooy had alone among the Dutchmen -apparently been proud of his line, and had kept his children and -grandchildren from any intermarriage with those who had Polynesian blood -in them. Evidently the custom, or his habit, had become a fetish for his -descendants; for in so far as it was possible, and Beekman noted this -with delight, in one family at least the pure Dutch blood had been -maintained. It was not possible to avoid all admixture, but there was -less of it in Jacobus and Truda than in any other dwellers upon the -island, and next to her and old Jacobus in the purity of blood was Hano -of the supercargo's line, although his strain did not compare with that -of the woman. - -The records of the first fifty years on the island were fairly complete, -but after that there was only the register of marriages, births, and -deaths among these people whom the world forgot, and by whom it was soon -apparent the world itself was forgotten. - -The joy which filled Beekman's heart as he disentangled the story from -the confusions of the blurred, faded, time-worn records of the past -which he had discovered, indicated to the man the depth of his feeling -for Truda. He had to the full the white man's pride in and sense of -superiority to any other race, and the unpleasant thought that the woman -who was so impregnably entrenching herself in his heart had any large -admixture of Polynesian blood had been one against which he had -struggled, with not a great deal of success. To be sure, that objection -did not bulk very large upon an unknown island in the South Seas; it -would be no bar whatever to any irregular connection, which would have -been natural enough with most men under the strange circumstances in -which he found himself. But Beekman was of a different breed. He -honestly loved the girl with a passion which was sufficiently great to -consider her future before his own gratification. Inevitably, while -pondering any real and lasting future relationship with her, he realized -that her purity of blood--white blood, that is--would be a much more -important consideration when they got back to civilization, if they ever -did. And in the case of children, if any ever came, a preponderance of -Polynesian blood might create an almost unbearable situation. - -Beekman had not a particle of the spirit of the beachcomber. The good -blood of decent, God-fearing America at its best pulsed in his veins. -Nothing would have induced him to settle down in some lotus-eating, -non-moral life of _dolce far niente_ on some golden South Sea strand -with his wild, primitive goddess for a moment longer than he could help. -He wanted her for a wife, and a wife of whom he could be proud even -before the men and women of his kind. - -The sudden realization that the woman he loved was a meet and fitting -mate for him, not only in beauty and intellect, but in blood as well, -was wonderfully stimulating. Naturally, he had often thought of escape -from the island, but he had never considered it before as he would -consider it hereafter. He did not see any way as yet, but he was -persuaded that a way would be opened eventually. He had confidence -enough in his own ability to devise it, he thought, as soon as it was -necessary. Meanwhile he had another task, and that was to complete, or -to continue--for the completion would be long deferred--the finely -progressing education of Truda--Gertrude Van Rooy, as she undoubtedly -was. - -And he could hardly wait for the moment when he could tell her of his -discovery. It would not mean much to her then, of course. She was not -troubled with scruples as to relationships or any future complications. -In that matter she was neither moral nor immoral. That question did not -enter her mind at all. It was simply non-existent. But two facts -counted. He loved her and she loved him. Nothing else mattered. In -his own good time he would take her, and she would be glad to be -possessed. Of course, that ceremony, so meaningless to them all, but to -which as a sacred tradition from their mysterious past they all adhered, -would take place, and then they would go and live together after the -simple primitive way of the island, where the human beings mated almost -like the animals. Artlessly she longed for the day that was to be, but -she was content to await his pleasure. - -He knew all this. He realized, being neither blind nor a fool, that he -need only will to have, take to enjoy. And it made his restraint the -harder. If he had resigned himself to life indefinitely on the island, -it might, it would have been different. He might not have been able to -find the strength to resist temptation so freely, so innocently, yet so -passionately presented to him. But he was always seeing her in a -different environment. He was always dreaming of another life in -another land. He wanted her for a wife and nothing else. Some day she -would thank him for this. Now she only wondered, sometimes with a touch -of disappointment. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXI* - - *THE WATCHER ON THE ROCKS* - - -The day after their visit to the church, or temple, he had imparted the -story to her, explaining carefully, so she could grasp at least the -salient points of the narrative, how she and those who survived came to -that island. It was difficult to make her understand. She had few -abstract notions as yet. The concrete alone appealed to the primitive. -But she had developed amazingly, and by repetition and explanation over -and over again she began to appreciate the truth. When he told her that -she differed from the rest of the inhabitants of the island, she could -understand that better, for she too possessed, albeit it had been -latent, a full measure of the pride of the white race. She had gloried -that her skin was fairer, her hair brighter, her eyes bluer even than -those of Hano and Kobo, much more than those of any of the others. Now -she began to catch a glimpse of the reason why, not only for her -personal difference, but for her instinctive joy in it as well. - -"Then I am like you," she said at last, "of your people." - -"Yes; of my race, of my blood," answered the man, and the joy and -satisfaction she felt in his voice thrilled her, and satisfied her, too; -for what pleased him pleased her even more. - -"What is to be done now?" asked the woman as they retraced their steps -from some island haunt where they loved to linger in the cool of the -evening of that day of revelations. - -She spoke English. Her mind, like her body, was virgin. She was -excessively quick to respond to the stimulus of his teaching, and she -possessed a rare faculty for language, he discovered. Conversation was -easy and unrestrained; she could use Dutch words if necessary to -supplement her English, and even on occasion revert to the island -dialect, and he could easily understand both. - -"I am going to teach you to understand the message of the books." - -"The words of your God and mine?" - -"Exactly." - -"And where, and when, and how?" - -"Listen; I have thought of a plan. I don't know what they would do to -us or to me if they caught me with the books." - -The girl shook her head with grave foreboding. - -"They might kill you," she said, "but I don't know. The things of the -God--what do you call them?--books, have never been taken from the taboo -house." - -"Church," he corrected. - -"The church," she repeated, endeavoring with considerable success to -form the unaccustomed sound. "I can't tell what they would do, but old -Kobo would be terribly angry and afraid. They are all afraid of that -house, as I was until you showed me a better way. And Hano hates you, -anyway." - -"Of course. Personally, I don't fear the lot of them," said the man, -smiling and quite confident in his splendid vigor, "but I don't want to -have any trouble. I don't want to be the means of introducing bloodshed -and hatred into this little paradise." - -He spoke unwittingly, not realizing for the moment that wherever human -passions enter, even the highest and holiest, they usually make a way -through which others that come not in the same category follow. His -arrival upon the island, the unconscious supremacy he assumed as related -to the rest, the love that had sprung up between him and this fair child -of Europe, and of the nurture of the tropic seas, had brought jealousy -and hate and envy in their train. There had been no crime committed on -that island perhaps since it had been discovered, certainly not for -generations, but now--well, he would see. He went on in natural -unconsciousness of all that while the obsessed woman hung upon his -words-- - -"That place overlooking the deep bay, where first I saw you, where you -go to meet the sunrising--I know now why you do it," he broke off. - -"Why?" - -"That is where they used to watch and hope for the ships." - -"Sometimes I have seen a black cloud far away." - -"The smoke of a steamer." - -She nodded, not comprehending fully, but acquiescing naturally in -anything he put forth. - -"But it never came near," she added as he went on. - -"From there we can see not only the sea but the whole island. No trees -grow near. No one can approach without being seen for a long distance. -We will take the books and hide them there in the rocks and cover them -up carefully. There I will teach you to read the speaking leaves." - -"But when old Kobo discovers they are gone?" - -"We will put them back in good time. It will be as easy to put them -back as it was to take them. No one goes into the church except at that -monthly visit. Are you sure?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, the rest is simple." - -Using one of the cocoa-fiber baskets with which the islanders were -accustomed to carry their produce from field to house, the two books -were carried to the hiding place without suspicion the next morning. -Beekman found a suitable recess, rounded it out with loose stones, and -made a dry hiding place for the volumes when they were not in use. The -natives generally avoided that spot, but once or twice Hano or Kobo or -one of the elders had visited it when the two were there. And, as they -had done before, they came again in the days that followed, but the -lovers were always found apparently idly scanning the sea and talking -about indifferent things. - -Of course, some suspicion was at first aroused by their unusually long -visits to that semi-sacred spot, but it was soon dissipated in the -indifferent and inert minds of every one of them except Hano. As he was -whiter, so he was abler than the rest. He made up his mind that he -would overhear what those two, one of whom he hated as much as he loved -the other, had to say to each other in those long hours. He came in the -night, searching for a place of concealment where he could lie hidden -and whence he could overhear, but at first he found none. To hide on -the slope that went upward to form the walls of the little amphitheater -which opened upon the bay or gulf and sea at the top of the cliff was an -impossibility. In the first place, he never could get there without -traversing the only practicable path and being observed the whole way. -In the second place, if he had found a spot where he could lie hidden, -he would be so far from the lip of the wall that he could neither hear -nor see. There were no caves or crannies big enough to conceal him. - -In despair, he stepped to the extreme edge and glanced down, and -instantly the solution of his problem presented itself. About six feet -below the level of the little amphitheater was a shelf of rock. Access -to it would be difficult, dangerous, but not impossible. He tried, and, -although he was not used to great heights, he made it. Such was the -stimulus of his hate. He examined the shelf of rock, discovered that it -ran inward a little, so that if necessary he could conceal himself even -from direct observation from above. - -The next day he would try it. He would get up before daybreak, and when -Truda visited the place for her unfailing survey of the sea at dawn, he -would be concealed. After that visit the two invariably went back to -the village for breakfast. Then they returned and the lessons began. -She had proved an amazingly apt scholar. She could spell out many of -the words of the Dutch Bible and express most of the thought in simple -English. The written word of the log book was still a mystery to her. -He had read it to her, but had not tried to teach her from it then; but -she had made great headway with the printed word. After she had learned -enough of that, Beekman intended to devise some means to teach her to -write, but for the present printing was enough. He began with the -Gospel according to St. Luke, which he had preferred to the others for -its clear, simple, and beautiful style. Truda not only learned the -letters and the simpler words, but she also began to apprehend the great -truths of religion which Beekman had held perfunctorily and sometimes -lightly, but which on that heaven-kissed hill, on that forgotten island, -in the midst of that great sea, he too began to appreciate and realize -as he had never done before. - -Sweet indeed were those hours when he sat with that old Dutch Bible open -on his knee, while she sat upon a lower rock by his side, leaning -innocently upon him, her head bent close to the pages of Holy Writ, -following eagerly his pointing finger with her glance and imbibing the -teaching that he gave her. Imbibing other things, too, for sometimes he -broke off and closed the book and laid his hand upon the girl's head or -shoulder, or turned her face up to his while she nestled closer to him. -They spoke together, without reserve, of the deeper things of love and -life. There were no conventions save such as the instinctive sweetness -and purity of the woman and the stern repression of the man imposed. - -Truda had become so proficient in her English now that they no longer -used Polynesian at all; they spoke English or Dutch habitually. -Consequently, the listening Hano, his ears attuned by jealousy and -hatred and love and tumult of passion to catch the slightest meaning, -could make out but little of what was said, especially as they sometimes -whispered with the soft yet passionate cadences of lovers alone. - -There was no wind that day. The long, slow silting of the waves through -the crevices in the barrier far below only came up to the top of the -island in faint murmurs. The listener could hear voices but not -understand. Indeed, the clearest sound that came to him was the -rustling caused by the turning of the stiff, thick, parchment-like -leaves of the book. He could not understand what it was. He was -greatly puzzled by it. - -So the hours wore away. As it approached noontime the cooling shadow -cast upon the lovers by the rock wall of the little cup in which they -lingered, was withdrawn from them by the upward movement of the sun. -The lesson for the morning was over. Hano heard them rise, preparatory -to going back to the camp for the noon meal and the afternoon siesta. -He heard them put something away in the rocks and pile other rocks -around it. That at least was clear to him, his wits sharpened by his -desire. He waited until they had gone, calculated the time it would take -them to disappear in the clump of trees, and then climbed back to the -little amphitheater. - -His first business was to search for what had been concealed. Without a -clew it never would have occurred to him to do so, nor had he wit or -experience enough, as a higher intelligence would have shown, to go -directly to the spot where the loose stones were piled artificially; but -he had the patience to leave no stone unturned, and his persistent -search under that burning sun was at last rewarded. After moving some -of the larger stones, the books were at last revealed to him. He was -struck dumb with terror. He knew very well what they were. He -recognized them instantly. He had seen them at a distance upon the -altar of the taboo house. - -In his half-savage way he wondered that the blasphemers who had broken -the taboo had not been struck dead by the angry, mysterious god whom -they worshiped. He could only attribute Truda's immunity to some -powerful spell, or charm, cast over her by this mysterious visitor whom -he regarded as a devil. He did not know what to do in the emergency. -He realized that it was a matter for a wiser head than his, if such -could be found on the island. Under other circumstances, unconsciously -acknowledging Truda's superiority, he would have gone straight to her, -but that was not to be thought of now. His only recourse was Kobo. - -Putting back the stones which covered the sacred volumes, he turned and -ran with all speed to the settlement. The noon meal was over. The -islanders were resting in their houses. All was quiet, still. Without -a moment's hesitation, breaking what was almost a taboo itself, Hano -dashed into Kobo's house, knelt down by him, shaking the old man -violently. - -"Awake," he whispered. "The taboo has been broken." - - - - - *CHAPTER XXII* - - *TWICE SAVED BY TRUDA* - - -Not being tropic-born, Beekman did not take naturally to the siesta. -Nor had he been long enough in the tropics to have acquired the habit. -It was his pleasant custom to lie awake during the rest period, -day-dreaming of the princess of this enchanted island. Sometimes he -never even dozed, the occupation was so entrancing. It happened on that -afternoon, however, that he had fallen asleep. - -He was not left to his own devices. He was awakened to find himself -covered with something thick and heavy, and his first movement was -greeted with savage cries which came to him through a grass mat which -had apparently been thrown over his face. At his first movement he was -conscious that men had thrown themselves upon him from every side. Half -choked and weighed down by a number of heavy bodies, he yet struck out -blindly with arms and legs. He was a powerful man, but he was taken at -a disadvantage, and, although he upheaved himself mightily and strained -like a Titan, he did not succeed in getting free. - -On the contrary, a rope made of cocoanut fiber was passed around his -legs. The slip-noose was tightly drawn and, almost before it could be -told, his feet were bound tightly together. He perceived that it was -useless to struggle longer. As he ceased his wild efforts the cloth was -dragged from his face and he instantly sat up. Before he had time to do -more than recognize the angry faces of the men on the island, another -rope was slipped over his shoulders. As before, the noose was drawn -tight, and before he could prevent it his arms were bound and the rope -wrapped around his body again and again. - -He was as helpless as a trussed fowl. His first thought as he stared at -the passion-convulsed faces of the men was of shame that he had allowed -himself to be so easily caught; his second emotion was surprise. What -had transformed these peaceful, listless, indifferent, gentle, decadent -islanders into truculent savages? For the moment he did not connect the -violation of their sanctuary with his present plight. The whole male -population of the island had fallen on him; even the larger boys had -joined their elders. If he had been on his feet and ready and possessed -of a weapon, even his sheath knife or his boat hook, perhaps he could -have beaten them off, for there were fewer than a score of them, and the -only one who had any real vigor in him was Hano. Obviously, he had -taken the lead in the capture. Hano's determination and old Kobo's -cunning had brought about Beekman's undoing. - -The American could not yet regard the situation as particularly serious. -Passion and anger and bloodshed were so far removed from any possible -association with those islanders that Beekman could only consider his -present plight as a temporary inconvenience. To be sure, Hano hated -him, but the others not only liked but almost revered him. He would not -have been human if he had not been glad to see Hano limping from a -particularly vicious kick he had received. Indeed, he laughed as he saw -him rubbing his leg, and that only infuriated the young man the more, -which was not wise on the part of the prisoner. He had yet to learn -that even perverted religion, especially when it serves as a cloak for -other passions, as in the case of Hano, could change the natures of men -and bring about the most malefic consequences to those who stood in its -way. It is always the abuse of the useful that is most dangerous. - -About the only thing really strong in the lives of these islanders was -their curious mixture of Polynesian idolatry with degenerate -recollections of Christianity. Like a half-truth, their religion in -theory seemed to combine the worst elements of the savage inheritance -with debased Christianity. They did not indulge in the savage rites of -the South Seas, those hideous practices had been abandoned under the -influence of civilization, but in theory at least the worst features of -that religion persisted. - -The only laws upon the island were, first, the law of ceremonial -religious observances, which was as easy as it was uncomprehended, and -which no one had any interest in violating; and, second, the law which -made a taboo of the temple, which was infinitely more important. The -more unfamiliar they were with the temple, the more dread with which -they regarded it. The mysterious taboo was the most powerful thing in -their lives. The temple was, as it should be, the house of their god, -but there was a mixture of the stern severity of the Christian--for -Christianity was held very strenuously in the days in which that Dutch -ship blew to the island--and the tremendous diabolism of the Polynesian -Tangaroa. The rule of that compounded god was fear-begotten, a rule of -consuming fire. They had by no means learned the perfect love which -would cast it out. - -When Hano whispered into the ear of Kobo that the taboo had been broken, -the shrine had been violated, the sacred--he did not call them -books--objects, the property of the god, had been taken from the temple -and made a plaything of by the stranger and Truda, the old man's soul -fainted within him. So soon as he had realized the purport of Hano's -excited words, he had almost collapsed. It had needed the young man's -fiery urgency to awaken him to the obligation of doing something. - -Just what should be done did not come to old Kobo. It would have to be -debated by all the worshipers of the god--the men, that is. But one -need was obvious. The blasphemer, the violator of the sanctuary, the -breaker of the taboo, must be secured before he could work further -mischief. Doubtless into these dark and degenerate minds had lodged the -idea--among the very oldest of all religious ideas--of propitiation. -They could perhaps placate the angry god and avert from themselves the -consequences of his anger by punishing the man who had dared to raise -his hand against divinity. - -It is on record that One Who His enemies said sought to make Himself -equal with God was punished by man, and perhaps for the same reason. - -That idea, so agreeable to the natural man, had been strengthened by the -struggle which had resulted in the binding of the criminal. Conflict -always calls for punishment of the vanquished. Without shedding of -blood is no remission. Battles are measured by butchers' bills, and the -fact that men fight makes the butcher a welcome assistant. - -The women and children of the settlement, not having been summoned to -the conference of men which Hano had brought to Kobe's hut, were not -fully aware of the reason for the commotion. They clustered about the -door of Beekman's hut, peering within, but not daring to enter. Indeed, -Hano, at Kobe's direction, drove them back with the curt statement that -the men would explain to them later what was the cause of their action -and what was toward. - -Beekman's glances had eagerly searched the little huddle of women at the -door, but he had not found Truda among them, for a very good reason. At -Hano's suggestion, Kobo had bade two of the sturdier women keep Truda a -close prisoner in her own hut until he should decide what was to be done -with her for her participation in the dread crime. - -Speaking in Dutch-Polynesian, of which he had easily learned enough for -ordinary purposes, Beekman now demanded to know the meaning of the -extraordinary assault upon him. The men had been consulting in low -tones in the far corner of the hut. Old Kobo detached himself from the -group and came forward, Hano following and standing next to him. - -"You have broken the taboo. You have taken the treasures of our god. -He will be angry with us. We have decided to kill you in order that he -may not hurt us." - -The conclusion was strictly in accord with the ancient law of -self-preservation. - -"If he is angry with me," said Beekman at once, perceiving the -seriousness of the situation, "he will hurt me, not you. Therefore you -have no reason to be afraid. Let the god himself kill me." - -It was shrewdly suggested, but there was not wit enough, except perhaps -in Hano, to follow the reasoning. Kobo shook his head. - -"You have broken the taboo. Who breaks the taboo must die. It is the -only way." - -There was a simple finality about the statement of the old semi-savage -which at last struck terror to Beekman's heart. His blood ran cold. He -knew what atrocities were sometimes perpetrated under the name of -religion in the South Seas. The situation suddenly seemed to him to be -absolutely hopeless. Arguments and appeals flashed through his brain, -came to his lips, yet something withheld utterance. In the first place, -he was a white man and he would not beg his life of these mongrels. In -the second place, the only argument he could think of had been used -without effect. Then his mind flashed to Truda. Was she involved? How -did these islanders learn of the theft of the books? for of course he -knew instantly that was what Kobo meant. And did they know of her part -in the adventure? Her absence was convincing proof that she too was -suspected and in mortal peril. He must find out for sure, if possible, -before anything else. - -"You say that I have taken things belonging to the god?" he began. - -"Yes, and broken the taboo." - -"What things?" - -"Things from the taboo house, that lay on the stone at the other end. I -have seen them there every time I have gone in." - -"And I also," said Hano. - -"And we," chimed in the men. - -"Where are they now?" - -"Hidden in the rocks," answered Hano, "where Truda watches the rising -sun." - -"How do you know that?" - -"I saw them there. I heard you and Truda this morning." - -"Impossible!" cried Beekman. "Where were you? I looked everywhere." - -"I was hidden below on the face of the rocks. There is a place there." - -"I see," said Beekman. "And Truda, what of her?" - -"Did she go into the temple?" - -"No," said Beekman, quickly and unhesitatingly, lying like a gentleman -to save her if he could. "I went alone. She was afraid. She tried to -stop me. She begged me not to." - -"She should have told me," said Kobo, "but because she did not go, she -shall not die." - -"Give her to me," cried Hano. "This stranger has cast a spell upon -her." - -"I shall know how to free her," said Kobo. - -"Meanwhile, may I ask what death is designed for me?" asked Beekman. - -"You have said it," answered Kobo gravely; "the god will determine -that." - -He nodded his head to the men. Six of them stepped over and picked -Beekman up. They bore him out into the open enclosure. At Kobo's -direction Hano summoned the women. Truda did not come, and neither were -her guardians present. As those women who had been detailed to watch -her were among the most prominent in the settlement, Beekman, lying on -the ground with his head and shoulders against a tree, noted their -absence. As the islanders assembled Kobo waved his hand for silence. - -"This man," he said, not without a certain dignity, "was cast up by the -sea upon our shores. We received him kindly. We gave him a house to -live in. We supplied him with things to eat. He was free to come and -go. In return for our welcome he has broken the taboo." A wail of -horror came from one old woman. It was caught up by the others, and -even the men and children joined in. It was quite evident that the -crime was a real one in the eyes of the people and there would be no -hesitation in the most extreme methods. "The god will be angry with -us," continued Kobo when he could be heard again. "Perhaps we can -please him by giving him this breaker of the taboo." - -"What would you do, O Kobo?" asked one of the older women. - -"Lay him as he is, bound hand and foot, in the taboo house for the god -to dispose of. It wants ten days before we worship in the temple. We -will leave him there during that time, bound, alone. If he is alive -then we will know the god has pardoned him." - -"But if he should get away?" asked one of the men. - -"We will be the arms and eyes of the god. We will watch every moment -the taboo house." - -"And food?" asked one. - -"And drink?" asked another. - -"If the god wishes him to live, he will provide," said the old man -simply. He signed to the bearers. "The taboo is broken, so all may -come in this time." - -They picked up the absolutely helpless Beekman and bore him to the -temple. Kobo unbarred the door. He stood hesitating a moment on the -threshold. The taboo was broken indeed, or had been, yet it was a great -thing he was about to do. He could only trust to the god that he would -understand. With a muttered jargon of prayer, at which the people sank -shuddering to their knees, and which to Beekman was grotesquely and -horribly Christian, he finally entered the building, beckoning the -bearers, who followed, stepping hesitantly and fearsomely with their -heavy burden. After them crowded all the rest. - -"We will lay him there," said Kobo, pointing to the opening in the -railing or balustrade. - -He stepped forward to give direction, and as his eyes became accustomed -to the dim light he discovered on the altar or table the two books that -Hano had declared he had seen in the rocks. He stopped, petrified. -Hano had lied. There had been no profanation of the temple. He had -broken the taboo himself, and without cause. His veins turned to water -within him. He staggered and would have fallen but for the strong arm -of the younger man. - -"There," he whispered, pointing, "the things of the gods are there. You -have lied." - -It was Hano's turn to be stricken with terror. Had his eyes deceived -him? Could those objects have been duplicated? What mystery, what -magic was here? He was younger, stronger, and the sooner realized the -necessity for action. - -"Out!" he cried, waving his hand. - -"Shall we leave him?" asked the first bearer. - -"No; bring him, and out, everybody, lest the god strike and spare not." - -He suited action to word. Half carrying old Kobo, he drove the rest out -of the temple. Kobo dropped on the threshold. Hano had nerve and -courage to swing the door, and then he backed up against it, ashy with -terror. Old Kobo rose to his feet. - -"People of the island," he cried shrilly, "we have broken the taboo. -Hano has spoken falsely. The things of the god are there. O Tangaroa, -pardon." He bowed his head in his hands. "Woe, woe, woe!" he cried. - -For a moment the islanders stood silent, and then they joined his -lamentations. - -"Perhaps you will release me now," said Beekman at last. - -Old Kobo's hand went out to the lashing. - -"Forgive me. This liar will take your place." - -"Wait," said Hano, his courage coming back. "I saw the things of the -god in the rocks. I heard them moving in the hands of this man and -Truda. She can testify." - -"Where is she?" asked Beekman. - -"Let someone go for Truda. Let her be brought here," said Kobo. - -One of the younger women started in the direction of Truda's hut, when, -from a clump of trees to the right of the temple, around which the path -ran, appeared the two women who had been appointed to watch Truda. The -girl herself was between them. Each one clasped an arm. She came along -the path without reluctance, her head held high. She shot a glance at -her lover which reassured him. He instantly realized the explanation of -the happy chance which had saved him, temporarily at least. - -Truda had somehow escaped, had got the books, entered the church through -the rear doorway as before, and had replaced the books on the altar. -What it had cost her he could well understand. Old Kobo stared at the -three in amazement. - -"How did you come here?" he cried to the two women. "I told you to keep -Truda in her house." - -"While we watched the door, O Kobo, she escaped through the window. -When we found out we searched for her." - -"And then?" - -"We saw her--" the woman hesitated. - -"Where was she?" - -"At the back of the taboo house," Answered the younger woman in -awe-struck voice, "with the things of the god in her arms." - -"You see," cried Hano, triumphantly, "I told you the truth. She went to -the rock to fetch them. She put them back." - -"How did she get in?" asked one old man. - -"There is an entrance at the other end, vine-covered and forgotten," -answered Kobo, his eyes sparkling. It had been shown him as a boy, and -had never been used. - -"What then?" - -"We were afraid to follow. When she came out we seized her and brought -her here." - -"What have you to say, Truda?" - -"It is true," answered the girl. - -"What is the use of questioning Truda?" interposed Beekman, stopping the -confession which trembled on her lips. "I took the books; I hid them in -the rocks. Through them your God, which is my God, speaks to me. I -tried to teach Truda His speech. I will teach you all if you will free -me." - -"Let us put him back in the taboo house," cried one of the oldest. - -"Yes, that will be best," cried a second. - -"Leave him with the god," urged a third. - -"I, too," cried Truda; "I also--" - -"Be silent!" appealed Beekman in the language they two alone understood. -"If you love me, say nothing. Alive, you can help me. Dead, and we die -together." - -"What do you say?" asked Kobo of the men. - -"I have a suggestion to make," said Hano. - -"What is that?" - -"You thought that my tongue was doubled, that I did not speak the -truth--" - -"We were wrong," said Kobo. - -"Let me speak now," said Hano. - -"Let us hear him," cried one after another. - -"Out of the deep this man came to us. Doubtless his God brought him to -our shores. Let us commit him to the deep again. Doubtless his God can -take him away." - -"What do you mean?" - -"Let us cast him down from the cliff into the gulf below." - -"That is well," said Kobo. - -"It is," shouted one after another. - -They loosened the lashings around Beekman's feet, lifted him up, and -forced him, surrounded by the men, along the path that led to the little -amphitheatre. Everybody followed. This was business of the highest -importance, and until it was settled, nothing mattered. When they got -to the little amphitheatre, in which all crowded who could possibly -enter, the lashings around Beekman's feet were drawn tight again. - -"What do you mean to do?" he asked. - -"Thrust you over the cliff." - -It was a fall of perhaps over five hundred feet sheer down. If he were -thrown far enough he might fall into the water, but even that would kill -him. In all probability he would drop to the rocks. There was that -shelf of which Hano had spoken where he had concealed himself. By -bending forward from his place on the brink, Beekman could see it. So -could Hano. - -"Not here," said the latter, "but there." - -They dragged Beekman over to a spot where nothing broke the descent. - -"Bring staves for all," said Kobo with obvious meaning. - -All the men must join in the thrust, it seemed. It would be the only -way to avert the anger of Tangaroa-God from them all. Meanwhile they -laid Beekman carefully back against the rocks while some of the men ran -back for long pieces of stout bamboo or cane. Their intent was evident. -When the time came they would each one seize a staff and together they -would thrust him over. So all would participate, and from all the -vengeance of the gods would be turned away. - -"Truda," began Beekman in that language which they alone understood, -"there is no help for it. I must die. It is not the end I expected. I -hoped to get away from the island, to take you with me, to teach you of -the things that lay beyond, to make you my wife. I love you, facing -death as I am I say it with all my heart. You can do nothing for me. -But no matter what happens to me or what happens to you, there is -another life. I have tried to tell you about it and I shall wait for -you there." - -"And I love you, Beek-man," answered Truda in return just as simply as -he had spoken. "You know that. I would gladly give my life for yours, -and I shall follow very soon. You will wait for me?" - -"Stop them," said Hano at last. - -"Let him talk with his God, if he will, in these last moments," answered -Kobo. - -"But not with Truda," persisted Hano. - -"When Truda is yours you can make her forget what she had learned." - -"But I will never belong to Hano," cried Truda. - -With a quick movement she broke loose from the women who held her on the -outskirts of the crowd. She leaped up the wall of the amphitheatre that -wound around a little distance away from the rest, and there she stood -poised. - -"Truda," cried Beekman, who was placed where he could see her every -movement, "what would you do?" - -"Stop," cried the girl in the language of the island, as Hano started -for her, followed by the others coming up with the staves. "Let no one -come near me. Hano and Kobo, stand forth." - -Such was her imperious emphasis that her command was at once obeyed. -The two addressed separated themselves from the crowd, which halted, but -Hano again started for the girl. - -"If you come nearer, I shall leap over," she said quickly. "Stand where -you are, Hano." - -He stopped in the face of this threat and stood as if rooted to the -spot. - -"Beek-man has broken the taboo," said the girl in the deep silence. -"Perhaps you do right to punish him--" - -"O Truda," groaned Beekman under his breath, but if the girl heard, she -made no sign. - -"He came from the deep. You may return him there, but he came alive, -and you must return him alive." - -"What do you mean?" - -"You must send him down through the place where the water falls. You -must unbind him. You must give him what he brought, the sharp thing -that cuts and the bright thing that strikes. You must give him food." - -"But he will come back," said one. - -"You can watch the place." - -"We can wall it up with stones," said Kobo. - -"Will you give this man life?" cried Hano. - -"If you do not," continued Truda, "if you do not swear by the god to do -as I say--" - -"What then?" - -"I will throw myself over the cliff before your eyes." - -"O Truda!" exclaimed Beekman again, but in a different way, for now he -understood. - -Now the most determined character of them all was Hano. There was an -assurance in the girl's words that carried conviction to his mind, at -least. If she threw herself over the cliff, she would be hopelessly -lost to him, and the fact that he could wreak vengeance on Beekman would -not bring her back. - -"Let it be as she says, O Kobo." - -The old man was naturally inclined to mercy. The fierce passion of the -morning had spent itself. The taboo had been broken, but nothing had -happened. The things of the god were back in their places. Truda's -suggestion might have persuaded him without the threat. But the threat -had persuaded Hano. - -"It shall be as you say," answered Kobo. - -"Swear it," cried Truda. - -"By the broken taboo, by the god whose things you have put back, by the -great Tangaroa himself, I swear it," cried Kobo, turning to the others. - -"We all swear." - -Truda instantly stepped back from the verge. - -"And you will marry me, Truda; you will be my woman?" - -"We shall see as to that when you have disposed of Beekman," said the -girl. "You will wait for me," she said to Beekman; "not in another -life, but there." She glanced downward. - -Beekman nodded. He understood. - -"What do you say?" asked Hano jealously. - -"I only gave him a message for his God," answered Truda. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIII* - - *TRUDA COMES TO HIS PRISON* - - -And thus it came about that Beekman once more found himself lying on the -strand near the waterfall at the foot of the cliff in the great cup-like -harbor where he had landed on the island not many months before. -Although the lashings had not been cast off by those who had lowered him -to the strand, yet they had been loosened in the descent, and he -realized that by patient application he could presently free himself -from his bonds. That, of course, was the first thing to be done. - -When he had finally cast off the loose piece of coir rope, he rose to -his feet and looked about him. The place was entirely familiar. It had -been etched upon his consciousness in those agonized days when he had -dreamed of getting to the top. There had been no change whatever. -Indeed, since the blocking up of the original opening through which the -_Good Intent_ had been hurled so many years before, there had been no -change, unless the slow disintegration of the rock had slightly altered -the face of nature. - -He had been dropped by the lowering ropes to the very spot where he had -found the pineapple bedded in the sand. He had no immediate need of any -such providential happening now, for behind him lay one of the -cocoanut-fiber sacks or bags which had been packed full of food enough -to last him for a week. Truda had insisted upon that, and they had -grudgingly consented, all the women in the settlement being more or less -openly on her side. But they had failed to give him either boat-hook or -sheath-knife. - -Beekman had no shelter, but he could get along very well without that. -Here were food, water, liberty, life, within the circumscribed limits of -the great cylinder. He had stepped back to the extreme edge of the -stretch of sand, the tide being low, and scanned the bed of the creek up -which he had once before climbed to the top. In the narrowest part he -could see the natives piling up huge stones, making an impassable -barricade. Of course, any considerable increase in the quantity of -water flowing down would eventually roll them away. The island must -have a rainy season, but unless or until it came, that wall of rock, -especially if it should be guarded, as he fancied it would at first, -would render ascent to the upland impossible. - -There was absolutely nothing he could do. Unless help came to him from -above, or from the sea, he would die of starvation eventually. He did -not fear that, however, because he believed that Truda would find some -means to get food to him. Indeed, going over the incidents of the -afternoon, he marvelled at the resourcefulness and courage she had -displayed. If it had not been for her escape from her guardians, and -her replacement of the books in the temple, he would be now lying there -bound hand and foot, slowly starving to death. - -He knew how hard it must have been for Truda to have broken the taboo a -second time, and alone. That was the first bold action which had saved -him, and the second was when she had stood on the brink of the cliff and -threatened to cast herself down unless he were lowered to the beach -rather than thrown bodily over. And she would have done it, too, as he -very well knew. That was the second time that day she had saved his -life. True, she had been compelled to make some kind of a promise to -marry Hano, but he knew her well enough to realize that she would never -keep it. Love, such as had not been known upon that island for two -hundred years of quiet mating, had entered her heart, and she was made -of the stuff that would willingly die rather than profane it. - -She said that she would join him on the strand, and he was confident -that somehow she would, and that her presence would bring him fortune; -yet, what would happen if she came? His own condition would be changed -for the worse immediately, since he would have no friend above to look -after his interests. It was to her influence alone that he could look -for food. If she were with him, her open defiance of Kobo, Hano, and -the others might, and probably would, result in the abandonment of them -both. Yet, illogically, but naturally, he longed for her presence as -never before. He was proud of her wit and courage, and he longed to -tell her that--and other things. He did not think any of the islanders, -unless it were Hano, would dare descend into the harbor, which he -shrewdly suspected was as taboo as the temple. If any did come, they -would have to come one by one, and he could deal with them, if -necessary. - -The day was almost gone. Before nightfall he was minded to do one -thing. He clambered around the rocks to the outer edge of the island -and stared eagerly at the barrier. Yes, there on the reef, where it had -been hurled or lifted by an unusually great wave or tide coming at the -same time, lay the wreck of the whaleboat. It had been firmly fixed on -the jagged rocks of the barrier, and as it was just above the assault of -any but the highest seas coming at the full flood of the tide, it was -still in much the same condition as when he had left it some months -before. - -There was no way by which he could repair the boat and make it -seaworthy. It was of no earthly use to him, yet the sight of it gave -him strange comfort. It was something which somehow tied him to his own -land and people. He waded and swam out to it and looked it over -carefully, observing before he did so that the copper tanks which he had -taken from the boat and put in the niche where he had slept the first -night on the island, were still there and apparently in good condition. -With some vague idea that it might be well if he replaced them in the -boat, he swam back across the lagoon, launched the tanks, which floated, -proving that they were air-tight; paddled across the lagoon a third time -and set them back in their compartments. In one instance, the after -end, he found this difficult as he had been compelled to break the -catches aft to get it out, but at the other end, the bow compartment, he -experienced no trouble. The boards had warped, but by exerting all his -strength he got the clamps caught and the tanks replaced. Exactly why -he did it, or what he expected from it, he could not tell, but, at any -rate, it was occupation. The boat could not take anyone anywhere, but, -unless the clamps broke, the tanks would keep it afloat, even if awash, -if it were ever washed off that reef. - -He got back to the ledge when night fell with the startling suddenness -of the tropics. He had made up his mind to sleep where he had slept -before: beneath the ledge; but thought better of it. He decided that he -ought to be where he had been seen last in case Truda should make any -effort to communicate with him. He reasoned, naturally enough, that -such an effort would have to be made in the dark to avoid observation. -The air at the bottom of the great cylinder, its sides rising about him -like the walls of a tower, was cooler than he had been accustomed to. -He emptied the mat-like sack, or basket, piling its precious contents -high up on the rocks, above any possible tide, and, after he had made a -very frugal meal, although he was ravenously hungry after all he had -gone through, he ripped the mat apart, hollowed a place for himself in -the sand, drew the mat over him and lay there thinking; and, for the -first time in days, Stephanie Maynard came into his mind! - -Now, there was no disloyalty to Truda in his thoughts of the other -woman. He realized that he never had loved her, and he was pretty -confident that she had never loved him. The marriage which had been -arranged had been one of convenience, purely. He was glad that he had -escaped; glad for every experience except that terrible one in the cabin -of the _Susquehanna_. He wondered if, in her heart, Stephanie would not -be glad also, and George Harnash. Little things which he had not noticed -at the time bulked larger in his imagination now, and he wondered if his -friend had not been more interested in his former betrothed than any one -had suspected. He thought whimsically that it would be a strange thing -if Stephanie and George married eventually, and then his thoughts went -further. - -Suppose they could prevail upon old Maynard to consent, they might come -to search for him as a wedding trip on the great Maynard yacht, the -_Stephanie_. It would be strange, he thought, lifting his head and -peering seaward, to wake up some morning and find the yacht in the -offing. He knew that was absurd. If he were to get off that island, it -would have to be by some other means, and the possibility of escape had -grown much fainter since his present misfortune. Well, whatever had -been back of that shanghaiing process, and he was as bitterly resentful -over it as if it had not brought him happiness, it had resulted in his -meeting with the sweetest and most innocent woman on earth, whose love -for him had led her to the most amazing sacrifices and exhibitions of -courage. - -It was a singular commentary on the man's mind that he was as bitter -against the men who had shanghaied him as if only misery and sorrow had -come to him. He had promised himself many a time if he ever did get -free and could find out who was responsible, it would go hard with that -man. He would not let the law take charge of his vengeance. He would -make it a personal matter. One does not live in the forecastle of a -hell-ship like the _Susquehanna_, where there is no law but that of -force, and no right but that of the strong, without getting a new view -of individual relation to individual and to the mass. Nor does one live -in a tropic island with no law at all, except the taboos of vague -superstition, without intensifying that personal element. - -Presently, Beekman's thoughts turned to Truda. Lightly, he forgot -Stephanie. All his hardships, the horrors of that forecastle, the -tragedy of that cabin, even the events of the day, faded from his mind. -He saw her white-skinned, golden-haired, blue-eyed and passing fair. He -recalled her passionate devotion, her wit, her courage. He stared -upward to the top of the cliff, cutting a black line across the stars at -the place where he had seen her for the first time. He could shut his -eyes and see her still. He tried it again and again, and by and by his -eyes did not open. He fell sound asleep. - -He was not aware that in the still watches of the night a figure bent -over him. Someone knelt beside him. A listening ear was held close to -him as if seeking for reassurance that he breathed, and then there was a -stealthy withdrawal and the figure slipped down upon the sand and sat -watching him. It was not until the sun struck through the entrance upon -his face that he opened his eyes. The first object that met his vision -was Truda. She was half seated, half reclining on the sand just out of -touch, looking at him as she had watched throughout the night. - -"Truda," he cried, raising himself at once and throwing aside the mat, -"how did you come here?" - -She pointed to the cliff, through which the brook plunged. He noticed a -long rope hanging down, buffeted by the leaping waters into which it -swayed back from time to time. - -"Amazing," he cried, rising to his feet and stepping toward her. - -"Do you think anything could keep me there when you were here?" said the -girl, stretching out her hands to him, and then he noticed, for the -first time, that her palms were cut and scratched and had been bleeding. -Her knees, her feet, were in the same sorry condition. He sank down on -his knees before her. He took the hands which she yielded to him -without question and pressed them tenderly against his cheek. - -"You have hurt yourself," he said, that petty little fact bulking larger -at the moment than any other; "and for me, my poor child." - -"The joy in my heart," said the girl, laying one bruised palm beneath -her tender breast, "when I saw you asleep and safe here, made me forget -this." - -"Why didn't you wake me?" asked the man, looking up at her. - -"You were so tired," said the girl, laying her other maimed hand on his -head. - -He could feel her wince as she did so. He had opened a cocoanut the -night before. The broken shell lay at hand. He lifted her up, carried -her to the bank of the brook, set her poor, torn feet in the cool water, -and, with the shell, laved her hands and knees. It was all he could do. -He had nothing else. Then he bent and kissed her lips, her hands, her -feet. He strained her to his breast. - -"You shall not walk a step or carry a thing until those precious hands -and feet are well." - -"They are well now since you kissed them. See, I feel no pain." - -She took him in her arms, in turn. What mattered that the white hands -left little blood marks on his shoulder? - -"First, you must eat," said the man, "and then you must tell me how you -came." - -He pressed upon her the cooked food and fruit which she herself had -forced the islanders to provide. - -"We may not get any more when this is gone," she said. - -"Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," he quoted recklessly; -"eat now." - -She did not understand, but the command was simple, and she obeyed. -Whatever her lover said was right, of course. - -"Now, tell me," he said, when they had stayed their hunger, "how did you -come here?" - -"They put me in the house with the two women to guard me after they had -lowered you down here. I was to be married to Hano today. I would have -died rather than that. I had told you I would join you here. I -persuaded the women. They like you, Beek-man. They don't like Hano. -They let me escape. I went to your house, and brought the bright-tipped -staff and the thing that cuts. I crept down the brook where you had come -up." - -"There was no watcher?" - -"Yes." - -"Did he let you pass?" - -"He could not help it." - -"What do you mean?" - -"I struck him with the staff, and--" She shuddered and hid her face in -her hands. - -"Don't cry over that," said the man; "in all probability you only -stunned him. He will be all right by now." - -"I hope so. He had done nothing to me, but if the whole island had -stood in my way, I was determined to come to you." - -"What then?" - -"I climbed over the rock wall. At first I thought I would push it down, -but it was too much for me. Besides, the stones might have fallen upon -you. I had a rope with a piece of wood at the end. I fastened the wood -in the rock and came down. The rope cut my hands." - -"And the staff and the knife?" - -"I threw them over. You will find them there." - -"Wait." He ran and brought them back. "Arms," he said, shaking them -exultingly before her. "With these we can defy everything." - -Indeed, the boat-hook and the sheath knife would be invaluable should it -come to a fight in the end. - -"Yes," said Truda. "In all the days of my life there has been no anger, -no bloodshed on this island; but since you came--" - -"Are you sorry I came?" - -"Glad. You have taught me life, love. They are worth the price we have -paid." - -"Always a price has to be paid for these things. Whether they are worth -it or not is another matter." - -The sun was well above the horizon now. Truda glanced upward, stopped, -and pointed. In the ravine whence the brook fell, clustered against the -wall, stood the islanders. Their cries came faintly into the vast gulf -in which the two lovers stood. Their gestures of hatred and scorn were -unmistakable, but they made no effort to come down. The rope was still -fast. Presently, they observed it, for it was quickly drawn up, and, -after a time, the islanders went away, leaving a watcher at the wall. - -"This place is like the temple," said Truda; "it is taboo. I think none -will come here." - -"But you came." - -"I would go anywhere for you," said the girl, simply. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIV* - - *"SO FARRE, SO FAST THE EYGRE DRAVE"* - - -There was nothing they could do to better their condition, but if there -had been, it was not in Beekman's mind to attempt it then. Their near -touch with death, Truda's sleepless night, the condition of her hands -and feet, the nervous reaction in him, warned Beekman that no demands -upon her must be made yet. He decided that they should have one day of -complete and utter happiness, whatever the future held for them; so he -devoted himself to her. - -Again and again he bathed her hands. He tore up the tattered remains of -his shirt sleeves to make bandages for her feet. He compassed her with -such sweet observances as he could achieve under such conditions. He -told her how he loved her. He pictured what their life beyond the seas -would be when they got away. He told her that they should escape, -although he had no idea how. His determination was contagious. She -thought nothing could he impossible, ultimately, to this god-like -creature who had come from across the seas to enlighten her as to what -love really was, and she believed him. - -He carried her around the broken point of rock where she had never been; -he showed her the wreck of the whaleboat which had brought him there. -He made her a bed for the night in the niche of rocks, facing seaward. -He covered her over with the mat he had made for himself. He sat down -by her side, holding tenderly the bruised palm, which really appeared to -be very much better; clean flesh, such as she had, healed quickly. She -went to sleep with the trustfulness of a child, yet not with the -emotions of one. Indeed, her strange feelings matched his own as he sat -there on the sand by the woman who was his, body and soul. - -Was he minded to take her? He prayed God, as he watched through the -long hours, that whether he were minded or not, he might be given -strength to treat this little child of nature as he would have treated -the proudest woman of his own world. Let no man think that he had an -easy task, or that he passed pleasant hours. When she was sound asleep -he laid her hand gently, palm upward, on the sand, and walked away, -pacing up and down the strip of beach the long night through. - -It was well that he remained awake, for, just before sunrise, when the -short dawn had already come, happening to pass the jutting rocks around -which he must go to get into the harbor, he saw the outlines of a dark -figure in the gloom; seen faintly against the brighter sand, the figure -of a crouching man! Something bright and slender quivered in his hand. -He was peering forward eagerly. Beekman snatched the boat-hook and the -knife from the sand where he had laid them and ran toward the figure. -It was Hano. He rose to his feet as the American approached. He lifted -his arm. Something flew through the air and cut a gash along the side -of Beekman's face and then struck the rock behind him with a metallic -clang, later he found it was an old Dutch knife. - -The next moment the American closed with him. Hano, mad with passion, -struggled desperately, but he was as a child in the hands of the white -man. Beekman broke his hold and dragged the man's arms from about him, -lifted him in the air, threw him headlong on the beach. He lay sprawled -in a heap, motionless, stunned, apparently, his head bleeding where he -had struck an outlying stone on the sand. Beekman was sorry that it had -happened. He could enter so fully into the feelings of the man that he -could not blame him. - -He turned back and awakened Truda. He gave her the knife and boat-hook -and told her to watch the prostrate man until he went around the rocks -and got the ropes with which he had been bound. He did not think that -Hano was likely to recover consciousness, but, nevertheless, he had -never gone so fast as he did then. Lightly binding the feet and hands -of the man so that he could make no further mischief, he set himself to -restore him to consciousness, which he presently accomplished. - -Hano would say nothing, nor would he answer questions, not even to -Truda. He turned his head away, and suddenly his eyes filled with -tears. Otherwise, he was as silent as a stoic on the beach before them. -After the two made their breakfast on the rapidly diminishing store of -food, they brought a share for Hano. Beekman unbound his hands and -stood over him while he ate and drank, then he lashed him again and drew -him up into the niche where Truda had passed the night. Then he -examined the wounded feet and hands of Truda, and found them in much -better condition, but he did not allow the girl to walk over the rough -and broken rocks. He picked her up in his arms and carried her into the -bay, that they might have the benefit of the fresh water of the brook. -Then, and not until then, did he take time to look at the sky and -observe the weather, which, if he had been a more experienced sailor, he -would not have deferred for so long a period. - -He was alarmed beyond measure by what he saw. There was no sun visible, -yet the sky did not seem heavily overcast. A strange, coppery light -seemed to filter through an unusually thin but very absorbing mist that -spread over the whole heavens. The sea had been very still throughout -the night. Apparently, a calm had extended far and wide over the -waters. There was always some slight motion on the shore, and the -silken slithering of the waves on the barrier came to him very faintly. -The absence of any wind at all had aroused no attention. There was no -wind now, yet the surface of the deep was troubled. - -After he had washed the girl's feet and hands and had set her down on -the sand, his attention was attracted by a sudden resounding crash on -that stretch of barrier that he could see through the entrance. It was -as if some mighty heave had raised and lowered the surface of the ocean. -As he stared seaward, he thought that the mist was thickening on the -horizon. It was growing darker there. Indeed, on the line where the -sky and sea would have met on the horizon, if he had been able to see, -it was suddenly black dark. The sun was more than an hour high, he -judged, although he could see nothing but the coppery light through the -mist, and the mist was in rapid wraith-like motion far above his head -and far beyond the reef. He could see that clearly enough, although -even yet no wind came to him. - -Presently, there was another of those long, swinging undulations, which -broke with tremendous force on the barrier, sending a cloud of water and -spray twenty feet into the air. It was uncanny. There was no cause for -it. It was as if some subterranean monster had turned over in the -depths and upheaved the surface. Truda joined him. - -"I never saw anything like that before, and I have seen the sea ever -since I was a child," she said. "The waves broke on the rocks, but not -like this. It is so still. Oh, look." - -Another of the great undulations struck the reef, and a gust of wind -from nowhere, apparently, and gone almost as quickly as it had come, -carried the spray across the lagoon and into the still harbor. They saw -it patter upon the smooth surface. They marked the wide circles spread, -interlace, break. It was a warning to the man, at least. - -"Some terrible storm is brewing," he said. "If it equals the promise of -these waves, it will flood this gulf. We must seek shelter." - -Now he had marked before--indeed, in his first exploration he had -essayed to get to the top by it--a broad shelf of rock fifty or more -feet above the level of the sea. It was inconceivable that any tide or -storm could ever reach that shelf. - -"We must go there and wait," he said. - -The ascent was not particularly difficult for a man alone, but burdened -as he was with the girl, it was almost impossible. He carried her up in -his arms as far as he could that way and then set her down. - -"You can leave me here," she urged. - -"Nonsense; I'll have to take you the rest of the way on my back." - -So, in the old-fashioned way by which children were carried pick-a-back, -her arms and legs tight around him to leave his hands free to help him -climb, he scrambled up to the shelf with his burden. It took some time -to get her there, and the labor was tremendous. Although there was a -strange chill in the air, sweat bedewed his brow. - -"It was wonderful," said the girl. "I didn't know you were so strong. -No man on the island could have done that." - -"Well, we shall be safe here," said Beekman. "Look yonder." - -They were directly opposite the entrance. As he pointed seaward the -black clouds on the horizon were torn by flashes of lightning. There -was a deep sigh of wind in the air, and the next moment, with a terrific -roar, the strange and terrible storm broke. Truda shrank closer to the -man. She was still sufficiently a child of nature to be awed by this -display of its terrible force. - -"It's worse than I thought it would be," said Beekman. - -They were still more or less sheltered from the wind, and conversation -was not yet difficult. - -"I must go down again." - -"Why?" - -"I forgot Hano." - -"He tried to kill you." - -"Yes; but he is lying there, bound hand and foot. He would have no -chance at all if the water came flooding in." - -"Is that the white man's way?" asked the girl. - -"It is the way of the white man's God." - -"Has He told you to do this?" - -"I think so." - -"Go, then." - -He kissed her and climbed down the declivity until he reached the sand. -It was already covered. The tide was at full flood and the wind was now -driving into the gulf with increasing force. The barrier was a mass of -white mist and spray shining eerie and ghost-like against the black -horizon, torn with lightning, fast merging into the copper-misted sky -above. - -He must hurry. He scrambled over the rocky promontory with reckless -haste. Hano was lying where he had left him. The waves were sliding -over the little mound of sand into the hollow. His face was grey with -terror. As Beekman bent over him with the sheath-knife, he shrieked, -but what he feared did not occur. His lashings were cut. Beekman -dragged him to his feet. He pointed to the sea and upward to the rocks. -He took him by the hand and started to lead him, but Hano broke away and -ran in the other direction. There were ledges of rock there, and, -dumbly and dimly alive to the danger, he chose to go that way. Beekman -followed, but he could not prevail upon the islander to go with him. - -His own position was becoming precarious. The wind was beating upon him -with amazing power. The waves were sweeping over the barrier as if it -were not there. He must think of Truda. She would be mad with anxiety. -He even feared she might attempt to descend if he did not return. He -waved his hand at Hano, whom he saw climbing up the rocks, and turned -back to the harbor. As he had suspected, Truda had started to come -down. She stopped when he appeared, and waited until he joined her. He -brought up what he could carry in his hands of the provisions which he -had stored in the rock. - -"I was coming for you. Where is Hano?" asked the girl as he drew -himself up by her side. - -"He climbed the cliff and went the other way. I tried to bring him -here, for this is the better place." - -"He is in the hands of his god," said the girl. - -"As we are in the hands of ours," answered Beekman. - -He turned toward her, and for a moment his back was to the sea. - -"Look," she cried, peering over his shoulder. - -He turned his head. What had happened before was child's play to what -met them now. - -"My God!" cried Beekman, staring into the white mist, appalled by what -he saw. - -A wall of water thirty feet high, although, to the man, it looked to be -a hundred, was rolling in from seaward with the speed of an express -train. Its top was curling, the spray whipping from it, but it was yet -an unbroken mass. The thoughts of men take strange turns in such -emergencies. It reminded him, for a second, of the pictures in his -mother's Bible of the passage of the Red Sea, the waters a curling wall, -concave over the heads of the pursuing Egyptians, about to break. - -"What is it?" screamed the girl. - -"A tidal wave." - -The words meant nothing to her, but the voice of the man told her that -there was death in the moving water. - -"Whatever happens, don't let go of me," he shouted. - -He stooped and kicked off his heavy shoes, clasped an arm around the -girl's waist. Her arms met around his neck. He was staring seaward, -ready for a plunge. Woman-like, she kissed him, and then the wave -struck the island--wall of water meeting wall of rock. For a second, -Beekman thought he could feel the massive cliff on which he stood -quivering. The next moment the great bore tore its way into the harbor. -It leaped and surged through the narrow entrance in a madly foaming, -green avalanche. Constricted by the walls, it rose and rose. He had -one glimpse of the mighty wave towering above his head where he stood -fifty feet above the sea level, and the next moment it broke, and, with -a crash like a thousand thunderbolts, fell upon them. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXV* - - *THE INDOMITABLE EGO* - - -The crest of the wave was traveling faster than its middle section, -which had been retarded by the land. That fact, and that alone, saved -the lives of the two poor mites upon whom it fell, for, instead of being -dashed back against the rock wall by the terrific surge of the inward -sweeping sea, the wave curling above their heads struck the wall a -second in advance of the great body of water. It broke, fell upon them, -swept them from the shelf, plunged them into the depths with such force -and violence that it was the return thrust of the water which finally -caught them--the backward undertow, rather than the inward rush. - -Beckman had never heard so deafening a roar in all his life. He had, on -one occasion, felt a great superdreadnaught roll and quiver under the -simultaneous discharge of her own principal batteries under actual -service conditions. It was child's play to this. Not that he had any -thought about it now. He was only conscious of the roaring in his ears, -the awful pressure upon his body, as he was driven down, down, down, -until it seemed as if the bowels of the earth had opened before him and -swallowed him up; as if he would never be lifted again out of the great -deep which had sucked him under. - -He held his breath instinctively, of course, but it seemed as if his -lungs and heart would burst. His whole being was merged in two frantic -desires: to keep on holding his breath, and not to let go of the woman -who clung to him. Mercifully, although his body had shielded hers, she -had almost lost consciousness. There remained to her only the desperate -instinct to cling. She twined her arms and legs about him. He drew her -closer and closer, although the tremendous thrust of the sea seemed to -be striving to tear them apart as well as draw them under. Thus linked -into a human warp and woof, they were hurled down and down, out and out. - -Just when he had come to the conclusion that further resistance was -impossible, that he must breathe or die, or breathe and die, the two -interwoven figures, caught in a mad whirl of the torrent, were thrown -upward. Their movements were arrow-like in their swiftness; or, better, -they were driven as a stone from a mighty catapult. Swimming was -impossible. There was no effort that could be made. There was nothing -that he or the woman could do but to cling tighter and tighter. To hold -on, that was all! - -Truda's grass petticoats were torn to pieces in an instant. The water, -in its awful churning, stripped Beekman to his bare skin. It would have -torn his shoes off if he had been wearing them. Nothing that he had -ever imagined equalled the force, the pressure, the stripping, ripping -suction; the driving, beating, thrusting of the sea, unless it was a -full-fledged western tornado. He had met such on the plains. Of course, -these comparisons did not occur to him then. All he thought of when -they were thrown out of the water and into the spray-laden air, which -made seeing difficult, but not impossible, was to breathe, to breathe -quickly and deep so as to be prepared for the next buffet of fortune. - -As soon as he struck the air he opened his eyes. They were still in the -very midst of the deep, cylindrical harbor, its dark walls seen vaguely -through the spray uptossed by the broken bore. His brain registered -impressions almost faster than the afferent and efferent nerves could -carry them. The swiftness with which the two bodies, still clinging -together, were whirled about in the maelstrom caused by the introduction -of these titanic forces within the narrow confines of this gulf alone -kept them from sinking. Beekman could not have made a stroke for any -reason. He was incapable even of movement of his own. - -In the first place, he was so bruised and beaten and exhausted by the -tremendous pressure of the water that every muscle was almost useless. -In the second place, he could not let go of the girl, even with one arm. -He had held her only by a superhuman effort of will and strength which -must have been met and equalled by a similar determination on her part. -Even to free one hand, meant parting. It flashed into his mind that -death was at hand; that no human beings could live in such a sea; that -the next second would find them cast beyond the whirling periphery of -the vortex and hurled against the rocks. At least, they could, and -would, die together. - -Yet, Beekman suddenly became aware that the harbor entrance was wider -than before. He noticed, too, that the waters appeared to be receding, -although the tumult, for instance, of the rapids of the Niagara River, -was as nothing to it. The next instant, as if nature had not yet -exhausted her malefic powers, a second earthquake, traveling more slowly -than the wave which the first shock engendered, reached the island. By -chance--or was it God?--the whirling revolution of the two human beings -carried them farthest from the nearer shore when this last appalling -cataclysm of nature took place. The solid wall before them seemed to -melt away before Beekman's eyes and dissolve into the vague mist and -foam. The sight terrified him perhaps more than anything else. It -benumbed his very soul. Not only had the foundations of the great deep -been broken up, but the immutable hills themselves were shaking like the -sea. Was it the end of the world, or only the end of Beekman and Truda? - -The quivering transmitted even through the boiling water seemed to still -the wave for a moment. As Beekman hung poised, almost as a soul might, -'twixt heaven and earth, the moment the mad action of the water stopped -they began to sink. Then he did strike out feebly, but desperately. -The girl clung to him, half senseless, a perfectly dead weight in his -arms. The great wall of rock before him wavered, bent forward. It -seemed to rise in the air. It slipped downward with the sound of a -mighty rending. Screams as of an earth in labor pains seemed to fill -his ear. He caught a glimpse of a great rift, beyond which he could -see, as no mortal had ever seen before from where he floated, the palms -of the upland. And then the falling rock smote the water. - -Being luckily farthest away, and just opposite the entrance, the great -wave which was engendered drove the two far out to sea. He had time to -note, as he swept through the now strangely widened entrance, that he -could not see a trace of the barrier. The water, which barely reached -its highest point at the highest tide, had completely buried it. -Outside the narrow, enclosed harbor, while the waves still rolled -terribly, the sea was smoother. They did not break. The force of the -surge which had hurled them seaward being spent, they began to sink -again. The instinct of life was still present, and although every -motion was anguish, Beekman thought it safe to free one hand with which -he continued to strike out boldly. - -His painful swimming was aimless. Indeed, it was only the result of a -now unconscious determination to keep afloat as long as strength -remained. He must go whither the waves carried him. By this time Truda -had fainted dead away. Her grasp on his neck relaxed. She straightened -out in the water. He turned her on her back, caught her long hair, -which had been blown out like a flag, in his teeth and swam on. - -While it would only be for a few moments, still the spirit of the race, -the indomitable persistence of humanity--that quality by which at least -it has some claim to be considered begot of Divinity--made him swim on, -driven by wind and sea and tossed helplessly about. He set his teeth -more tightly, shut his eyes, and struck out and out and out. He would -not give up his own life. He would not desist from the efforts to -preserve, even for a few swiftly passing instants, that life, dearer -than his own, which trailed behind him as he swam. - -But he reached the end of his strength. Some instinct made him open his -eyes and lift his head: the old instinct to die with head up, facing the -enemy; not to pass with averted countenance and in shrinking posture. -Before him he saw something white. He did not know what it was, but the -next moment, in the grinding sway of the sea, it struck him hard on the -shoulder. He had strength enough to clutch at it ere he went down. It -had struck him on the right arm, and the force of the blow had deprived -him of the use of that vital member. Ordinarily, he could have swam -with one arm, but not now. - -As he clutched the object before him, it occurred to him that this was -the end. He wished that he could have had another word with Truda; -another kiss; but, to his surprise, he found that he was not sinking. -To his brain came the consciousness that he was touching something -familiar. He looked again. It was dancing and bobbing in the seas, but -he was near enough now to recognize what brief stay Providence had -thrown to his hand. It was wood, painted white. He saw the boards -lap-streaked together. It presented a strangely familiar look. - -Through water-filled eye gate, through numbed arm and bruised body gate, -it told its story to the man's brain. That he could read the message, -was an evidence of his vital force and infinite determination. A ship's -boat, the forward part half under water, yet riding singularly light. -He could not yet reason as to what boat it was, or how it came to be -there, but the fact was indelibly impressed upon his consciousness. It -meant a further respite from death; another temporary stay on their -dread journey. They were not beaten yet. - -His right arm was useless. He tried desperately to lift it, but could -not. He thought it might have been paralyzed, but the pain, when he -attempted to move it, suggested to him that it might be broken. He did -not dare to let go with his left arm, and yet if he did not draw his -fainting companion up on that boat, she would die. They were now -surging far to sea, the reflex of the great tidal wave rolling them on. - -He could turn his head and see Truda's body half buried in the water. -Still holding the boat, which lay across him--he had struck it -broadside--with his left hand he worked himself around till the sides -running aft embraced him. He felt about with his foot and discovered at -once that the after part of the boat was gone. He did not yet have wit -enough to determine why the forward part of the boat floated so far out -of water. At any rate, he was in a much better position for action. - -Pulling and swimming, he got himself well between the two sides, with -the bow directly in front of him. Then he drew himself to the right, -and, although the pressure by which he held himself by hand and shoulder -from washing out of the boat induced the most excruciating pain in his -arm, he dared to release his grasp on the gunwale with his left hand. -Still holding Truck's golden hair in his teeth, he reached out and drew -her forward with his left arm. By an effort--he never knew how to -account for the feat of strength--he got her to the boat; then, seizing -her under the arms with his left arm, he forced her upon the bow of the -boat until her head lay back upon a little flat platform, which he soon -discovered was a locker, or compartment in the very eyes of the boat. -Thus, himself lying across the boat, holding himself steady by the -pressure of his knee and back, and the girl lying along the boat -lengthwise, her head on the forward compartment, his left arm holding -her, he knew he had done all that was possible. The pain in his right -arm and shoulder had passed away, leaving a sort of deadness. - -There was a broken thwart just back of him, and he found that he could -relax his pressure a little and sink back against this jagged piece of -wood without slipping into the sea. It was a good thing, he realized, -for the tremendous thrust of his legs against the unsupported side of -the boat might have torn apart even the frail support that was left. - -In all this, Truda had, as yet, made no sign of life. He was sure that -she had not been drowned. He thought the shock, and the battering, and -the terror had rendered her unconscious. Whatever it was, there was -nothing more that he could do except to hold on in his constricted -condition and wait. He told himself a thousand times that it was -useless; that it would be, perhaps, best in the end to let go, but the -indomitable ego did not sanction that. - -Rising and falling on the seas, he could catch glimpses of the island. -It was so changed by tidal wave and earthquake that he never could have -recognized it. The harbor was gone. Here and there, when they rose on -the crest of a wave, he could see the barrier reef. A part of it had -been torn away. Where had been a wall was a great concavity that led -upward and inward. The earthquake had done that. What had it done to -the people of the island? He was too far away by this time to -distinguish much except the general transformation. - -As they floated on, his eye, ceaselessly roving the waters, caught sight -of a brown object rising and falling, tumbling and turning with the -helpless look of a once living thing driven and tossed. A freak of the -sea brought it nearer. Another freak of the sea turned the brown object -over. He saw that it was Hano, dead. He wondered if all the other -denizens of the island had met a like fate. Of course, the water could -not reach them as it had reached Hano, and Beekman, and Truda, but the -earthquake--then, as he speculated hazily, the sun suddenly appeared. -The black bank of cloud was riven and torn. Its greater moiety drifted -to leeward, driven by some strange and powerful wind of the upper air. -Fortunately, where they floated there was but a gentle breeze. - -The warmth, the rest, it may be, he knew not what, revived the woman. -She opened her eyes, lifted her head, his left arm tightened about her. -She bent to him. - -"Is this another world?" she gasped brokenly. - -"Not yet," answered the man. - -"How did we come here?" Before he could answer, she cried, "I remember. -The wave. What is this?" she asked after a time. - -"A boat," he answered, and then he knew that it was the forward half of -the wrecked whaleboat which had brought him to the island, had landed on -the barrier, had been torn from the pinnacles of rock by the same sea -that had overwhelmed them, and which had been thrust into his hand for -their salvation. - -"We shall die here in the water," said the girl, "but we shall die -together." - -The man shook his head. - -"I think not. God, our God, has preserved us so far. He has given us -this poor support. It can not be that this is the end." - -It was almost the end of Beekman, in spite of his brave words; for, now -that Truda was safe and alive, now that he had achieved the impossible, -now that, by God's will and her lover's help, she had been brought -through the maelstrom, he fainted dead away. His head fell back. His -knees relaxed. His hand unclasped. His arm released her. But for that -broken thwart, he would have slid away and out of sight. It was Truda's -turn. She caught him by the shoulder. She crouched down on the forward -compartment and held him until consciousness returned. When he could -think coherently, he remembered how he had put the air-tight tanks back, -and he blessed God for having inspired him to that, at the time, useless -action. It was that air-tight compartment which held them. Truda -dragged his head free of the water and held him there until he recovered -his strength a little. The sharp pain in his arm, which had been -numbed, helped to keep him from fainting again. - -And so they drifted side by side, a naked man and woman, as they might -have come from a Garden of Eden, on the poor shattered remains of a -small boat, their weight keeping it awash in the long, still rolling, -but gradually subsiding waves, thanking God for life, for that poor -support, and for love. And by and by the night fell, and still they -clung to each other, floating on calming seas, until presently the boat -came to a rest beneath the tropic stars staring down upon these -jettisoned inhabitants of that island paradise, these bits of human -flotsam kept above the waters by love and God. - - - - - *BOOK IV* - - *"*_*I've a neater, sweeter maiden, - In a cleaner, greener land*_*"* - - - - *CHAPTER XXVI* - - *IN DANGER ALL* - - -It was, indeed, a solemn little group that was seated around the table -in the great cabin of the _Stephanie_. The dominant spirit of the -occasion was not the masterful financier, the brilliant young executive, -or the beautiful and charming maiden. It was a grizzled veteran sailor -who had called the conference in that section of the _Stephanie_ which -he rarely entered save for business purposes. The grave anxiety of -Captain Weatherby's face was reflected in the faces of John Maynard, -George Harnash, and Stephanie Maynard. - -"And you think the yacht's condition is serious, do you?" asked Maynard. - -"Just about as serious as it could be, Mr. Maynard," answered the -captain. - -"Yet there's not a better built ship on the seas than this," observed -Harnash. - -"Granted," said Captain Weatherby; "she's all that money and skill and -steel and science could make her, but she's only a manufactured article, -after all, and she has just bucked the biggest thing in nature. That -she has come off as well as she has is a tribute to her builders." - -"And to her sailing master," put in Stephanie deftly. - -"If you hadn't handled her just as you did, none of us would be here -now," added Harnash heartily. - -"That's as may be," answered the captain modestly. - -"It's the blessing of God and your own skill," commented Maynard. - -But the captain went on. - -"We are here, but the yacht is in bad condition. She is making water -faster than the pumps can keep it down." - -"Is there any immediate danger of our foundering?" asked Maynard. - -"Every danger. In fact, it is certain, unless--" - -The captain paused. - -"Unless what?" asked the owner. - -"I've sailed with you a long time, now, Mr. Maynard. I know your temper -on land and sea, and that of these young people, as well. What you want -is the plain, blunt truth, and you're going to get it. Unless I can -beach this yacht somewhere within the next twenty-four hours, send a -diver down, and, if necessary, careen her, and come at the leaks, she--" - -He paused again. It was not necessary for him to go on. His meaning was -obvious to all of them. - -"In that case, there are always the boats," observed Harnash. - -"Have you been on deck this morning, Mr. Harnash?" asked the captain. - -"Yes, I have." - -"How many boats did you see?" - -"By Jove!" exclaimed Harnash, "I forgot that." - -"Of course," said the captain, smiling grimly at his own sarcasm; "and a -landlubber like you, meaning no offense, sir, wouldn't be apt to notice -it, but the deck has been swept clean. The bridge is still there, and -the smoke stacks, but pretty much everything else is gone. There's not -a boat left at the davits, and even the launch amidships is badly stove -up." - -"A raft?" said old Maynard. - -"There's not much woodwork in this boat fit to make a raft out of, sir," -answered the captain, "but I've got the men at work on the wooden -fittings and doors trying to patch up something." - -"Of course, we're not in any immediate danger," said Stephanie. - -"Depends upon what you mean by 'immediate,' Miss Maynard. The yacht -will float for twenty-four hours; perhaps thirty-six." - -"Then, after that, we shall be in God's hands," said the girl quietly. - -It was a platitude, of course; but, in great emergencies, humanity -always resorts to platitudes. They are familiar; made to order, as it -were; and resorted to as the line of least resistance. There are -certain conventional expressions to which man instinctively reverts. -Men exclaim, "My God!" in the crisis, even though He be none of theirs -and they have not hitherto known Him. - -"In His hands, Miss, and mine," said the captain steadily with the -assurance of the capable and efficient. - -"What else have you done or planned?" asked Maynard. - -"I've searched for the leak but we cannot locate it. The hours after -the tidal wave were so full that it got a start on us, but we are -keeping the pumps going while working away at the raft." - -"Of course; but that is a last resort." - -"I'm driving the ship as hard as I can, too, sir." - -"In the hope of what?" - -"There's an uninhabited island to the nor'west of us; hasn't even a name -that anyone recognizes. I'm heading for it." - -"Can you careen the ship there?" - -The captain shook his head. - -"The charts say that it is completely surrounded by a barrier reef. It -appears to be a volcanic rock about which the coral builders have been -busy. But it is the nearest land; the only land we can possibly make in -our present condition; and, at least, we won't drown on it. We can save -enough from the _Stephanie_ to support life, and I have no doubt we can -find some means of getting away or communicating with other ships," -continued the veteran sailor confidently, although he knew, and everyone -else realized, more or less, that the chance of either was very slim. - -"Well, whatever happens to us, Captain Weatherby," said Harnash, "I'll -never forget my last glimpses of you on the bridge, jumping the boat at -full speed into that tidal wave." - -"It was our only chance, Mr. Harnash," said the captain. "If that wave -had caught us broadside, or even on the quarter or astern, we would have -gone down like a stone." - -Indeed, no one aboard the ship would ever forget the approach of that -great, roaring, thunderous tidal wave. No one would ever fail to -remember how Captain Weatherby, as cool as he was at that moment in the -cabin, standing on the bridge, had shifted his helm, had pointed the -bows of the yacht at the rushing, whirling water, had signaled for every -pound of steam, and had driven the great white ship at full speed fairly -and squarely into the midst of it. - -Before it broke and fell the three passengers had been ordered--yes, -that is the word, ordered--below. Captain Weatherby had been prepared -to detail seamen, who would have obeyed him unquestionably, to carry the -great magnate who owned the ship and the other two below if they had -hesitated a moment in complying with his command. He did not even stop -in the emergency to put it in the form of a request or suggestion. John -Maynard knew a man when he saw him, and without a moment's hesitation, -he went aft and plunged below with the others, just in time, too, for -the hatches to be battened down and every opening through which the -water could penetrate the ship from above as tightly closed as the wit -of man could devise. They would never forget, either, how they stood -close together in the cabin, waiting the meeting of ship and sea. - -They could not see, but they could feel the appalling shock of the bows -of steel encountering the hurtling water wall. They could feel the -gigantic wave break over the deck and fall crashing upon the steel -ceiling over their heads. So great was the tumult, so loud the smashing -falling of the water, that they did not hear the rending and tearing of -the upper works of the ship, the boats carrying away, the deckhouse -going adrift, and everything movable swept astern; and even the screams -of some of the men, washed helplessly away, in spite of the life lines, -at which they clutched frantically, were not noticed in the wild tumult -of the storm. - -Following the great wave came the short but terrible cyclonic -disturbance, which almost completed their undoing. It was not until -calmer weather supervened and the night fell that Captain Weatherby -could take account of his ship and of his crew. He deemed it best to -say nothing of his terrifying discoveries until the morning, but at dawn -he had awakened his passengers to the melancholy conference in the -cabin. - -It was rare, indeed, that John Maynard found himself helpless. There -were few situations to which his readiness, his resources, his -inventiveness were unequal; but this was one. It was Captain -Weatherby's field of action. There was nothing that Maynard could -contribute, except an example of cheerful willingness to do what he was -told without hesitation and without argument. It was a good lesson for -the master financier, albeit the price he bade fair to pay for the -learning of it might render it of little avail. - -"Well, Captain Weatherby," he said, rising, "as my daughter says, we are -in God's hands, and, as you justly added, in yours, too. We have every -confidence in you that you will do the best for us that humanity can do -under God. If it should prove of no avail, it will not be your fault. -Meanwhile, this is the first chance I've had to express my admiration -and gratitude. My friendship and respect you have had for a long time, -but never as today." Maynard extended his hand to him. - -"Mine, too," said Harnash, following the older man's example. - -Stephanie, more moved than the other two, less restrained, perhaps, -slipped her arm about the captain's neck and kissed him on his -weather-beaten check. - -"As from your daughter at home," she said. - -"Here are brave hearts," said the captain, deeply touched. "Good stuff -in all of you. We'll all fight harder because of this," he added. - -The next moment the hatchway was darkened by one of the junior officers. - -"Captain Weatherby," he began. - -"What is it, Mr. Lefner?" - -"We've made out the wreck of a boat adrift off the starboard bow with -two people on her; one of them at least is alive, for through the glass -we can see hands waved." - -"Have a boat cleared away at--" He stopped. He had forgotten for the -moment that there were no boats. He glanced up at the telltale compass -above his head and noticed the shifting of the needle. The first -officer was changing the course of the yacht to run down the wreck; that -would be the only way. "We are still capable of saving life, Mr. -Maynard, even though it be for a little space. Perhaps you would like -to come on deck. It is safe enough now. I've rigged up a railing of -life lines to take the place of those carried away." - -He put his foot on the ladder and mounted to the deck, followed by the -others. Harnash snatched a glass from the transom as he passed. They -knew exactly where to look for the wreck. It was quite visible to the -naked eyes. There were no glasses on the bridge. It had been stripped -clean of everything by the wave and only stood by a miracle. The whole -party moved up toward the bow of the ship and mounted the bridge. -Harnash handed the glass to Captain Weatherby. He focused it and fixed -his eyes on the rapidly nearing object, now directly over the bows, -since the yacht's course had been changed. - -"I make out two naked figures on what appears to be the fore part of a -whaleboat. One of them is a woman, sir," he observed, handing the glass -to Mr. Maynard, who stared and then passed it to the others standing by. - -"Ropes to the starboard gangway," said Mr. Gardner, the first officer, -after a word with the captain. "Mr. Gersey," he spoke to a veteran -seaman, who stood forward, easily balancing himself to the roll of the -ship, his arms folded. Instantly the boatswain turned and saluted. -"Stand by the starboard gangway. Have some hands ready at the battens -with a rope. One of those castaways doesn't look able to help himself, -and we'll have to draw him aboard." - -"Aye, aye, sir," he answered, turning aft to the gangway, followed by -the seamen he summoned to his assistance. - -Although she was already deep in the water and sluggish, the _Stephanie_ -was under complete command. Nicely steered, she passed the bit of wreck -to windward and rounded to. Her engines had been stopped previously, and -just as the wreck surged to the gangway she came to a rest in the gently -moving sea. Gersey had sent Templin, who had proved himself one of the -smartest seamen on the yacht, down the battens of the starboard gangway -with a rope's end, in which a bowline had been cast. Standing on the -lower batten with the water halfway up to his waist on account of the -ever-deepening draught of the leaking yacht, Templin caught the surging -boat by the stem and held it firmly. - -The woman was sitting crouched down on the forward lockers, or what -remained of them. Templin motioned her to try the battens. She shook -her head and pointed to the figure of the man, who lay at her feet, his -head in the very bows of the boat, his legs dragging in the water. He -was alive, but apparently helpless. His face was flushed and his eyes -bright with fever. Templin sensed the situation at once. - -"The lady wants the man passed aboard first," he called out. - -Gersey nodded. He sent another seaman down to help Templin, and -although the situation was difficult, the two men worked together -intelligently. They passed the bowline around the body of the man, drew -it tight, and the next moment willing hands aboard ship hauled away, and -while Templin bore the body out so it would not scrape along the sides -of the yacht, the man was soon drawn aboard. The girl watched without a -word, but in great anxiety, until this rescue had been effected. Then -she strove to rise, but she had been so cramped by sitting so long in -that position that she could not make it. The seamen helped her to her -feet and, half carrying, half urging, they finally got her on the deck. -She had no sooner set foot thereon than she collapsed and fell in a dead -faint. The officers and men were crowded about the two figures near the -gangway, when Maynard, Harnash, and Stephanie approached. - -"Take the woman to my cabin," said Stephanie. She turned to her maid, -who had also come on deck, as two of the seamen picked up the fainting -castaway and bore her aft. "Celeste, you and I will look after her, -with Dr. Welch's help." - -"At your service, Miss Maynard," said the ship's surgeon, following her. - -"Take the man aft to the spare cabin," said Maynard, as the others moved -away. "Dr. Welch, you'd better examine him as soon as you can. -Harnash--" - -But Harnash did not hear. He was bending over the prostrate man. The -man's face was covered with a thick, short, dark beard and mustache, but -there was no mistaking him. Harnash had been struck by something -familiar in his appearance as the wreck lay alongside, and when he bent -over him on the deck he knew at once who it was, in spite of his beard. - -"This is the man we have been seeking," he said to Mr. Maynard. - -"Good God!" exclaimed Maynard, looking hard in turn. "Yes," he added, -"it's Beekman!" - - - - - *CHAPTER XXVII* - - *THE SPEECHLESS CASTAWAYS* - - -It was broad daylight by this time, and the high peak of the island was -already visible, although low on the horizon. Ordinarily, the arrival -of the castaways would have been a matter of deepest interest to Captain -Weatherby, his officers and the men on the ship, but under the -circumstances their presence simply meant two more persons to feed and -care for. His owner could look after them. Indeed, Captain Weatherby -had not left the bridge as the two had been passed aboard, and he had -not heard that one of the persons he had picked up was the man for whom -they had been combing the seas in an exhaustive search of every island -in Polynesia. - -He was engaged in the desperate task of getting the sluggish ship to the -island, if possible, before she sank. The existence of that island was -charted, but it was marked as uninhabited, desolate, completely -encircled by a formidable reef and very dangerous. Ships avoided it, -giving it a wide berth. It promised them little. Still, in their -condition, perhaps a very little meant the wide difference--or is it -narrow?--between life and death. A good sailor, like a good doctor, -never gives up entirely until the very end. While the ship floats she -has life, and while she has life there is hope; but Captain Weatherby -was forced to admit to himself that the amount of hope was very small, -indeed; that is, for the ship, and not much more, he feared, for her -people. - -Ordinarily, he could have made the run to the island in half a day. It -seemed to him under present conditions he would be fortunate if he -reached it by evening, and yet he must reach it before dark if he were -to save the lives committed to his care and skill. To make a landing -through the breakers on a reef-encircled island by means of an -improvised raft would be an almost impossible task in daylight, and -under the most favorable circumstances, and quite an impossible task at -night in any sort of sea. Consequently, he drove the waterlogged -_Stephanie_ as fast as she could be driven in her condition, his chief -engineer ably seconding him, employing every expedient to keep up steam -and to increase the speed. - -Weatherby was a resourceful man. He had spent some years in Cramp's -shipyard in Philadelphia, after retiring from the command of great -liners. The love of the sea was strong upon him, however, and he had -been tempted to the easy and pleasant work of commanding the _Stephanie_ -by the munificent offers of Maynard, who, since he owned the biggest -yacht afloat, was not satisfied with any but the best captain. -Therefore, if Captain Weatherby could find a suitable strip of sand on -which to beach the ship, if necessary to careen her, he believed that -with his carefully selected force of engineers and mechanics and seamen -he could stop the leak and put her in seaworthy condition again. -However, that was not to be thought of. That desolate, reef-guarded -island toward which they were heading was the only one they could by any -possibility hope to reach, and if the charts were true, as they -undoubtedly were, it would not afford any facilities whatsoever for such -work as would be necessary. It never occurred to him that the -earthquake which had raised the tidal wave which had wrought their -undoing might have broken the barrier and have changed conditions at the -island, so as to provide him with the beach he craved. He was simply -going to the island, because, when the ship sank, it would at least -enable them to keep alive, for a little while longer, at any rate. -Consequently, he paid no attention whatever to the pair he had rescued -as he put the ship on her course again. - -There were plenty of people capable of looking after them better than -he. Indeed, to his casual inspection they seemed to be two islanders, -rather fairer of skin than those whom he knew. He wondered how they -came to be where they were. He had seen that the wreck which had kept -them up was part of a ship's boat and not the remains of a native -vessel. It did, indeed, occur to him that possibly they might have come -from that island for which he was heading, which might not be -uninhabited, after all, but time would soon settle those problems. In -the meantime his duty was clear. - -Beekman was incapable of recognizing any one. He had been silent enough -in the water, but when they got him on deck he had begun to mutter -incoherently things they could not understand. Harnash, after his -discovery of his identity, seemed incapable of action. The sight of his -friend brought back vividly his own perfidy, and the desperate condition -in which he saw Beekman to be intensified the swift and sudden -recollection of his own baseness. Mr. Maynard had nothing with which to -reproach himself, of course, and it was he who first recovered himself -and repeated his order that Beekman should be taken to the cabin. - -For a moment Harnash found himself wishing they had not found Beekman, -and for a moment Maynard, in whose good graces Harnash had become more -and more solidly entrenched, had the same thought; on his young -subordinate's account only, of course. As the days of the cruise had -passed without any tidings of the missing man, and as the possibilities -of their search grew smaller and smaller, they both became resigned to -and in a measure satisfied with the situation, even if Stephanie had not -shared in their feelings. - -Harnash had made a grievous error; he had done an unworthy thing. The -consequences had been such as no one had dreamed of, but Harnash had -manfully confessed and he had done his best to atone. Mr. Maynard could -not be in the presence of Harnash and his daughter without realizing the -depth and permanence of their devotion. It was deplorable, of course, -that Beekman had been sacrificed to their happiness, but there was no -use blinking the facts. Here was Beekman alive and on the ship. Maynard -never dreamed but that he would at once claim Stephanie for his wife, -and by putting himself in Beekman's position, Maynard could easily -imagine what his feelings toward Harnash would be when he knew. -Whatever happened, Beekman had to be told if he lived. It was all -terribly awkward and embarrassing and quite an impossible situation. - -Nor was Maynard unmindful of the fact that the naked man before him, -over whom a coat had been hastily thrown, had been found adrift with a -woman. He had no doubt that some irregular connection had been entered -into, or some sort of relationship had grown up between the castaways. -This woman was presumably a native, but that would be no ultimate -barrier toward Beekman's claim to marriage with Stephanie. At any rate, -the situation, which had gradually been clearing because they had not -found him, became suddenly more complex than ever when they did. Both -Harnash and Maynard were ashamed of their feelings, and that very shame, -the personal humiliation a man experiences who has given way momentarily -to unworthy thoughts or impulses, made them more resolutely determined -to do everything in their power for him. - -The yacht carried a surgeon, of course, who messed with the officers, -and was scarcely admitted to any more social intimacy with the owner and -his party than the others. Dr. Welch had met the party in the gangway, -and in obedience to the suggestion from Stephanie, he had followed her -into the cabin. The maid's cabin was abaft the bathroom and dressing -room, which separated it from Stephanie's luxurious cabin. There was a -spare berth in Celeste's cabin and there the unconscious Truda was -bestowed. The doctor made a swift personal examination. - -"There's nothing very much the matter with her," he said at last; -"exposure, cold, lack of food or drink, prolonged nervous strain, and -surprise probably account for her collapse." - -He administered proper restoratives, directed that she be well rubbed -down and wrapped in blankets and given suitable food and drink, and -predicted that in a day or two she would be all right, which, indeed, -proved to be the case. - -"Remarkably light colored for a Polynesian," he observed professionally -to Stephanie as he turned away to leave his patient in the care of the -two women. - -"Yes, and with a distinctly European cast of countenance," answered the -girl. - -She bent over her as the doctor left the room in obedience to a summons -from Harnash that he come to the other cabin to look at the other -castaway immediately. - -Stephanie was the exact antithesis of Truda; dark where the other was -fair, brown eyed where the other was blue eyed. To be sure, Truda's -dazzling fairness had been modified by the sun under which she lived, -and Stephanie's complexion was clearer, if darker, owing to her more -sheltered habit of life, but Stephanie recognized to the full the -extraordinary beauty of the sea nymph before her. - -Truda, who had never seen so splendid a brunette, made the same -unconscious acknowledgment as her civilized sister. The yacht, its -sumptuous fittings, the wonderful things about her, this extraordinary -being bending over her in her unusual clothes, all added to the poor -little islander's dismay. Even Celeste, by no means unpleasing in her -trim maid's dress, was a thing for Truda to wonder over. These were the -women of that other faraway world of which Beekman had told her. It -could not be that in their presence he could continue to love her, and -so Truda, agonizingly jealous, was afraid. Everything was new and -strange; the yacht itself, the deep throbbing of the hard-pushed -engines, the very bed on which she lay, the expensive furnishings of the -cabins, added to her trepidation and alarm. Save so far as mental habit -and life had been altered by intercourse with Beekman and what he had -taught her, she was still, in many of her instincts and habits, a -savage, and a savage suddenly and with no warning introduced to the -highest civilization. - -Fear tied her tongue. She had not said a word. She would not speak. -It seemed to her that she had forgotten how to use any language but the -native speech of the island. She could only stare in dismay, appalled, -silent. Stephanie had an exquisite voice; low, trained, cultivated. -Beekman had often admired it and her use of it. She was a singer, and -her speaking voice, unlike that of many singers, was as musical as the -other. She bent over the girl and addressed her in English. - -"What is your name?" - -Truda understood well enough, but she was utterly incapable of -answering. Her lips could scarcely frame a Polynesian word, much less -an English one. She could only stare wildly. On a venture Stephanie -repeated the question in French, then in Italian, then Celeste shook her -head. - -"She is not of the south, not Latin, mademoiselle," she said; whereupon -Stephanie, summoning the remains of a brief schooling in the harsh -tongue, repeated the question in very indifferent German. - -There was no answer. That exhausted the linguistic possibilities of the -cabin. Presently the steward appeared with broth, which the doctor had -ordered. The two women, social differences more or less laid aside with -this new and interesting plaything, had meanwhile covered the nakedness -of the poor girl, who was entirely submissive and unresisting. in their -hands, with one of Stephanie's daintiest and most beautiful night robes. -Save for the grass or fiber petticoat of the Polynesian, with an -occasional grass mat about her shoulders, Truda had never been so -completely dressed before. She was scarcely dressed in that filmy, -diaphanous adornment; but by comparison it seemed to her that she was -strangely and fully clothed. The lace and linen and silk had a strange -feeling to her, yet she was woman enough to delight in the beauty of the -garment, to marvel childishly at its color, its softness. She lifted -her lovely arm and stared at the short sleeves. - -A thought struck Stephanie. At a word from her Celeste brought from her -toilet case a silver mirror. Without explaining, she suddenly held it -before Truda's eyes. The girl stared, screamed, threw up her hands. -There had not been a still pool on the whole island. She had never seen -herself before. She was frightened, but Stephanie, a little repentant, -reassured her. She held the glass before her own face, so that Truda -could look and see the reflection. She took the girl's hand and put it -upon the glassy surface and then she put the mirror back in Truda's -hand. - -Mindful at last of the doctor's orders that the castaway should have -sleep and rest, Stephanie and Celeste left her, carefully closing the -door of the cabin behind them, and, worn out, Truda fell asleep, the -mirror lying by her side, reflecting a very pretty picture indeed. - -Now, Beekman was in a very much worse condition than Truda. He had done -the fighting. Truda had been a more or less passive instrument in his -arms during that horrible struggle with the tidal wave. Not only had -his been the physical strain, but the mental as well. It is true that -Truda had not been without her share of that mental strain after Beekman -lapsed into unconsciousness a second time and presently grew delirious. -It was Truda who had held him on the wreck of the boat during the night, -who had kept him from sinking, and who had repaid him in this way for -her life, which she owed entirely to him. It was Truda who had seen the -ship in the growing dawn, who had made the signals which Beekman could -never have made. Had it not been for Truda's erect position on her -knees, the watchers on the ship might never have seen the wrecked boat -with its human freightage. - -In addition to all that he had gone through, when Beekman had been -slammed against the boat by a wave his right arm had been severely -injured. It was obvious to Dr. Welch and the others that Beekman was in -bad condition. The physician made a very thorough examination of him. -His eyes were open, his lips muttered unintelligible things from time to -time, but he was obviously not in possession of his reason. He knew -none of them and could tell no coherent story. That right arm, -especially, attracted the doctor's attention. The skin was scraped and -torn from its upper half. There was one long bruise. But for the -antiseptic effects of the salt water it probably would have been in -worse condition than it was. Fortunately, the numbness and pain were -caused from muscle strain and muscle bruise, for it was found that no -bones were broken. Physically, so far as his bones were concerned, -Beekman, like Truda, was intact. - -"I don't know what happened to them," said Dr. Welch. "They must have -been caught in that wave somehow. They have both had a terrible -battering." - -"This is Mr. Beekman," said Maynard. - -"What, the man we have been seeking?" - -"The same." - -"Well, by Heaven!" exclaimed the physician. He recovered himself in a -moment. "I think we'll have him all right in a day or two. That's a -nasty scrape he got on the right arm. The flesh is torn nearly to the -bone, but the salt water has helped it, and as soon as it heals he will -be all right. He is suffering now from fever brought on by the -exposure. I have no doubt he saved that woman, and for a man to bring -himself, let alone another human being, through a tidal wave like -that--well, what he wants now is food, sleep, and complete rest. If you -gentlemen will turn him over to me, I'll look after him, and when he -wakes up, I'll guarantee he will be able to tell you all about it." - -The doctor's advice was good. There was confidence in his bearing and -in his words, which carried conviction to the two men. They withdrew -and sat down together in the cabin, while the doctor, summoning his mate -and a steward, busied himself with his patient. - -"Well," said Maynard, in anything but a joyful manner, "our cruise has -been a success." - -"In so far as finding Beekman," was the equally melancholy answer, "but -if the yacht sinks we won't have bettered his condition appreciably." - -"No, of course, not," returned Maynard, thoughtfully. "Yet, I have great -confidence in Captain Weatherby. I shan't give up hope until I feel her -sinking under us." - -Harnash nodded. - -"The only thing to be decided now is, shall we tell Stephanie?" he went -on. - -"Tell me what?" asked the girl, coming into the room and overhearing the -last words. - -"I--er--" Harnash hesitated. "About our castaways, the man we picked -up--" - -"Is he alive yet? Will he live?" - -"Dr. Welch guarantees it," answered her father. "He has been badly -buffeted, his arm is cut and bruised, and he is prostrated from physical -and nervous strain." - -"Is he conscious yet?" - -"No, but Welch thinks he will be when he wakes up. How about your -patient?" - -"She's all right. She's conscious and Dr. Welch says that she only -needs nourishment and rest. She's asleep now, I imagine." - -"Who is she? What is she?" asked her father. - -"She didn't say a word. She must be a Polynesian, although she looks -strangely like a European, especially since we clothed her for the -night." - -"Didn't she say anything at all?" - -"Not a word. She seemed frightened. On a wild venture I tried her in -English, Italian, French, and even German. She made no response, yet she -seemed to understand. Incidentally, she's one of the most beautiful -girls I ever looked at." - -The two men stared at each other. - -"Didn't your man say anything at all?" asked Stephanie, no suspicion at -all in her mind. - -"Not a thing. He muttered continuously and more or less unintelligibly, -but he is not sane yet," answered her father. - -"Does he look like a South Sea islander?" - -"He isn't one." - -"What is he, then?" - -The two men looked at each other again. Neither answered the question. -Stephanie stared, greatly surprised, and not in the least understanding. - -"Why don't you answer? What is the mystery?" she asked, obviously -somewhat annoyed by their inexplicable hesitancy. - -"He is an American," observed Maynard, slowly. - -"It's Beekman," said Harnash. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVIII* - - *THEY COMFORT EACH OTHER* - - -The three seekers after Beekman were spared the necessity for immediate -decision as to the telling of the story they had come so far to relate, -for Dr. Welch came from the cabin on the heels of Harnash's startling -revelation and reported that the patient was already quite composed and -that he would soon be asleep. He guaranteed that he would awaken -refreshed, in his right mind, and, save for the wound in his right arm, -as well as ever. More careful examination disclosed that the wound was -more superficial than otherwise. It would yield rapidly to treatment, -the surgeon declared. Then having looked at his other patient, and -finding her also fast asleep, Dr. Welch discreetly left the trio to -their own devices. - -"Of course," said Stephanie, relentlessly, "as soon as possible he will -have to be told that our engagement is broken, and why." - -"Yes," added Harnash, mournfully, "and as soon as he wakes up I shall -tell him that I alone am responsible for his whole sorry plight." - -"On the contrary," put in Maynard, sagely, "while I have no doubt that -Welch is right, that Beekman will be much better when he does come to, -yet he won't be completely himself. It takes more than a few hours of -sleep to recover from such an experience as he must have passed through, -and that torn arm is going to give him some trouble, at any rate. How -he is going to receive both announcements no one can tell." - -"He has a just right to be angry with me," said Stephanie. - -"And much more with me," confessed Harnash. - -There was a community of responsibility and blame, which, if anything -were necessary, bound the two lovers more closely together than before, -and, in answer to a common impulse, a human craving for sympathy, they -approached each other to supplement invisible commiseration with -something more tangible. Mr. Maynard looked away while George kissed -Stephanie softly. When Maynard turned his head back they were standing -side by side, while George was supporting Stephanie, who really needed -no physical assistance whatever, by clasping her firmly about her waist. - -"I never appreciated before as I do now what an infernal scoundrel I was -and what a dastardly thing I did," said Harnash, in bitter self-scorn. - -Stephanie was too honest and too clear eyed not to realize the truth of -his words. She was too acutely conscious, however, of a certain share -in his guilt, at least constructively, and too much in love to let him -affect her in the least degree, except, perhaps, to fill her heart with -compassion and tenderness for her lover at the terrible task imposed -upon him. She patted the hand upon her waist and nestled a little -closer to him, if that were possible. - -"We won't go into that any more," she began, gently. "It was awful, as I -have always said, but it was as much my fault as yours, and you have -done everything you could to atone." - -Harnash sighed deeply. - -"He may not forgive me for all that," he said, doubtfully; "I don't see -how he can." - -"He must when he knows how you have repented and what you have done -since then," continued Stephanie, firmly. "Why, if it hadn't been for -you and the sailors, father and I never would have been here, would we, -father?" - -Mr. Maynard had his own views as to that, but he saw no reason for -obtruding then upon these two lovers. With wise discretion and ready -tact he nodded acquiescently. - -"And there is one thing," went on Harnash, repeating himself, "that he -cannot possibly condone." - -"And what is that?" asked Stephanie, swiftly. - -"The loss of you." - -"Well, he can't blame you for that, at least. That's my fault entirely. -I never should have promised to marry him in the first place. I never -should have continued to let him think I would marry him in the second -place. As soon as I found out I loved you I should have told him. If I -had, what trouble and sorrow might have been avoided." - -This time it was Harnash who attempted to comfort her, tritely enough, -too. - -"You acted for the best, of course," he said. "You were the soul of -honor." - -"Yes, I suppose so. But unless one acts in the right way, the fact that -one's desires are for the best is of little moment; besides," she went -on, after a little pause, which no one broke, so weighty and grave were -the responsibilities and possibilities of the situation, "I don't -believe he ever really cared very much for me, after all." - -"It's impossible," protested Harnash, with a conviction which was a -delight to her soul, "that anybody could come in close and intimate -association with you without--caring." - -"You say that because you love me, but lots of other men have known me -very well, and--" - -"It strikes me that the conversation is becoming rather purposeless," -interrupted Mr. Maynard, a little impatiently. He had quite forgotten -that the airy nothings of lovers true are much the most purposeful -things which can engage their attention, when they are in the mood. "It -is settled that we shall not tell him until he is better able to sustain -the shock. For one thing, if what Captain Weatherby fears comes to -pass, we shall all be so busy saving our lives that these love affairs -will be of little moment." Again Mr. Maynard blinked the fact that love -affairs are of infinitely greater moment to lovers even than the saving -of life. "Of course," he went on, "whether he is still in love with -Stephanie or not, Beekman is going to be frightfully indignant and -resentful over the outrage, of which he was the victim. But we knew that -when we started. We knew the engagement was broken. We knew that you -and George had to face the music, Stephanie, and now that the time has -come, face it, that's all. As for me, I'm going on deck." He paused at -the foot of the companion ladder and looked back at the other two. "I -wonder what sort of a relationship subsists between Beekman and that -woman we picked up with him," he added as he ascended. - -"I wonder, too," said Stephanie, turning to Harnash, a gleam of surprise -in her eyes. - -"It would solve everything beautifully if he had fallen in love with -her," returned Harnash, optimistically. - -"What, Derrick Beekman in love with a savage!" - -"Well--er--not exactly in the way in which I love you." - -"Do you mean to tell me he would fall in love any other way with any -respectable woman?" flashed out the girl, changing her tactics to the -great bewilderment of the more conventional man. - -"Well, I don't wish to say anything about this island person, of course, -but--" - -"George," said the girl, "she's as beautiful as a dream, much more -beautiful than I am." - -This was a statement which Harnash could not allow to pass -uncontradicted, and he denied it in the most effective way, which -interrupted further speech, if only for a moment. - -"Nonsense, impossible!" exclaimed he, when the kiss was finished. - -"Did you get a glimpse of her?" - -"I only saw a limp, drenched figure being hoisted aboard. I noticed she -was whiter than the people of the islands we have visited." - -"Why, her skin, save for the touch of the sun, is whiter and finer than -mine. Her figure, which has obviously never known the restraints -of--of--civilization is absolutely perfect. Her hair is like spun gold, -and there's enough of it to cover half her beautiful little body." - -"What you say is very interesting," observed Harnash, indifferently, -"but it doesn't particularly concern me. The only type of woman that -appeals to me is your type." - -He emphasized this statement in truly appropriate, if somewhat -conventional, fashion, and Stephanie received statement and emphasis -alike with obvious satisfaction. - -"There's another thing," she went on, when this second kiss had also run -its course, "she doesn't look in any way--form or color or feature--like -a South Sea islander. In these weary months of cruising and visiting -island after island we have seen a great many, and not one of them has -been as she." - -"What does she look like?" - -"A European. Our kind of people. She has white race somehow stamped -all over her." - -"Do you think she can be European?" - -"Who knows? She didn't answer to any European language at my command. -There wasn't a thing on her save the remains of a belt that seemed to -have held some kind of a native skirt." - -"After coming through that tidal wave the surprise is not that she had -nothing on, but that they were alive at all. Beekman was in about the -same case. Indeed, I don't think he had anything on, either. Probably -the suit he wore when he went adrift was pretty old and could not stand -much weathering. It was a happy thought of yours to have me bring some -of Beekman's clothes with us in case we did find him. He couldn't have -worn your father's or even mine now. He seems to have grown broader -somehow. He looked as though he were a head taller than I am and he -seemed in splendid bodily condition." - -"The girl is shorter than I," said Stephanie, "but on a pinch she can -wear my clothes." - -"If she's an islander you'll find it difficult to get her into--er--many -of the things civilized people wear." - -"I shan't try," said Stephanie, smiling at her lover's sudden hesitancy. -"I've got all sorts of negligees and kimonos that she can wear -without--" - -"So you can break her into the harness of civilization gradually," -laughed George. - -"Yes, including shoes." - -"I'm sure she'd never get your dainty slippers on," went on the fatuous -lover, and Stephanie, looking down with him at her small, exquisitely -shod feet, agreed with him. - -"Her feet, while they are not large, are larger than mine, but -beautifully shaped, and I dare say they have never been bound up in a -shoe." - -"I feel that this is to be our last happy day," said Harnash, -irrelevantly. - -"We'll hope not," said Stephanie. "Indeed, I'm sure it won't be." - -And so they babbled on, forgetful for the moment of all the facts of the -case and the demands of the situation, not the least of which was -Captain Weatherby's firm conviction that unless he got the ship ashore -in a very short time, they would be adrift on whatever makeshift support -they could compass. - -It came into Harnash's mind, as he thought of what was laid upon him, -that such a catastrophe might not be the worst thing to which to look -forward. At least, he and Stephanie would die together, and if -contrition, sincere repentance, and an earnest purpose of confession and -amendment availed, they would be together in some future, where there -might be no giving in marriage, but where there would be love and joy -and the communion of soul with soul in ways scarcely to be apprehended -by poor humanity. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIX* - - *THE ISLAND HAVEN* - - -The two patients, aided thereto by the doctor's wise regimen and -skillful prescription, slept quietly on through the long day. Celeste -watched the maiden most of the time, but she was relieved on occasion by -Stephanie, who did not tire of studying the innocent, charming, and -beautiful face and figure of the girl, so quietly sleeping; the mirror -which had so frightened and fascinated her lying near to the cheek that -it so beautifully reflected. - -Harnash and Maynard visited Beekman's cabin from time to time, but his -slumber was even more profound. The doctor found that the nascent fever -had been broken, and that nature, good health, splendid constitution, -and the medicine were doing exactly what he had prophesied they would. - -It was late in the afternoon when the yacht drew near the island. The -very best charts of the South Seas were in the chart room, and Captain -Weatherby had mastered all they told about this unknown, unvisited -island. He was greatly surprised, when the sluggish ship drew near -enough for those on deck to make things out, to find that the formidable -barrier, which was reported on every chart to be continuous, was -obviously broken. They could see the white water above the encircling -reef on either side, but right in front, opposite what appeared to be a -deep circular harbor, embayed and surrounded by enormous and towering -cliffs, the sea ran smooth! - -Of course, the encircling reef might continue below the surface without -showing above, but after carefully studying the smooth water through the -glass, Captain Weatherby did not think so. Furthermore, an inspection -of the cliffs that surrounded the harbor showed wide differences of -color. A part of the cliff wall was dark and weather-stained, as if it -had mellowed for ages under the assaults of sun and wind and sea. Other -parts were lighter and the wall sharper. Points of rock freshly jagged -and serrated, as if the erosions of time had not softened them, rose on -one side where a brook now tumbled down a rather gentle incline from the -upland to the harbor. - -"What do you make of that, sir?" asked the captain of Mr. Maynard, who -was also examining the island with his own powerful glass. - -"If I know anything about it," was the answer, "it is freshly broken -rock. See how much lighter and sharper it is to starboard than that -black towering mass to port." - -"Exactly." - -"What would have broken it?" - -"Perhaps it was the earthquake." - -"It is more than likely." - -"There is still argument about these tidal waves, sir, but the consensus -of the best opinion is that they are caused by subsea earthquake shocks. -Such a shock may have struck the island, broken the barrier, torn down -the cliff wall." - -"Is this the island that has sheltered Beekman?" - -"Must have been. There is no other hereabouts." - -"It will be uninhabited, then." - -"That's as may be," answered the old sailor, lifting his glance to take -in the upland, which was now clearly visible through the enormous rift, -which looked as if it might have been made by an avalanche or landslide, -and down which the tumbling, dashing stream of water sparkled like -silver in the light of the declining sun. - -"I don't see any smoke or any evidence of life," observed Maynard, -following his example. - -"If the charts are true, this island hasn't been visited in the memory -of man, and a ship as near as this one is would be a sight to arouse the -curiosity of any native. They ought to be on the cliffs watching for us -if there are any," said the captain. - -"On the other hand, they might think it is some kind of god or devil and -be in hiding." - -"Well, we will soon know," said the captain. - -"What do you mean to do?" - -"I'm going straight through that dark space where the barrier is broken, -and, if the way is clear, right into that harbor. Off to starboard -there's a stretch of sand. I'll beach the ship there. It is high tide. -We will go on easily. Then I will send a diver down and see what is to -be done. Have you anything to suggest, Mr. Maynard?" he continued, -turning to the owner. - -"Nothing. The job is yours," answered Maynard. - -"If I had a boat I'd send her in ahead to take soundings, but as it is -we must depend upon ourselves. For'ard there," he shouted, "Mr. -Gersey?" - -"Aye, aye, sir." - -"Let two of the best men take soundings with the hand leads." - -By this time everybody on the yacht was on deck, except the castaways -and their watchers. Two leadsmen on either side leaned far out from the -ship and as she swept slowly through the somewhat narrow opening between -the jagged jaws of the barrier on either hand, they began to heave their -leads. The water shoaled rapidly, but not alarmingly. Indeed, bottom -was the thing that Captain Weatherby wanted most of all to feel under -his water-laden ship. The engines were stopped. The ship under its own -momentum moved slowly across the lagoon into the smooth, still waters of -the great cylindrical harbor. The deep silence was broken only by the -rippling splash of the bow wave and by the long-drawn musical calls of -the leadsmen in the chains. So she drifted through the entrance beyond -the wall over which Beekman had so often clambered, and the whole -wonderful harbor burst into view. - -Beekman would not have known one side of it, for one side of it was -gone. The rocks still rose as of old upon the other side. The -heaven-kissing cliff where he had first seen Truda in the glory of the -morning, still stood, and the unbroken rocks ran around the left hand, -but the other side was changed. Where the brook had plunged over -precipitous cliffs it now rolled down a long, easy slope, terribly -broken, to be sure, but quite different from the mighty rampart of old. - -The narrow beach whereon he had lain had somehow been lifted up and -extended out at a very gentle angle far into the harbor. The eye of the -captain took it all in. There was his resting place. His hand sought -the Chadburn signal. The throb of the engines broke the silence. The -man at the wheel put the helm to port. The sluggish yacht gathered -additional way, swung heavily to starboard, and finally slipped through -the shallow seas, glided up on the sloping sand, and came to a dead -stop. - -Providence had favored the sailor, as it often does and has done. The -_Stephanie_ was safe, exactly in the position in which her captain -desired her to be. He turned to Mr. Maynard. - -"The tide is at full flood. We are fast aground. If we can't make her -seaworthy now, I'll forfeit my head." - -His eyes sparkled. He gave orders for carrying out anchors to moor the -ship, for rigging tackle, for getting the diver's uniform ready for an -under-water inspection of the hull; at the same time he directed the -capable engineers, now that there was no more steam needed for the -engine, to turn every ounce of power into the pumps, and, if possible, -to rig others temporarily to clear the ship of water and keep it down, -hoping that perhaps they could come at the leak from within as well as -from without. - -It was so late in the evening before the ship was safely moored that it -was not practicable for any of her people to go ashore that night. -Captain Weatherby thought that at low tide the next day the sandy beach -would be largely uncovered and with a very little ferriage they could -make most of the journey on foot. - -There was not the slightest evidence below in the sumptuous cabin that -night at dinner of the sorry condition of the yacht. Her fittings and -appointments had not been damaged. The napery and silver and glass were -shining as usual under the electric light. The service was as perfect, -the food as delectable, as if the ship was not lying on a sand bank -embayed in a cavernous harbor in front of a deserted island, leaking; a -ship which they might or might not be able to render seaworthy. - -It was characteristic of the two men and of the young woman that they -all dressed for dinner as was their custom. And although Beekman and his -story and theirs were uppermost in everybody's mind, because there was -nothing new that could be said about either under the circumstances, -they talked at dinner of other things entirely--the ship, the -probabilities of Captain Weatherby's getting control of the leak and -making the necessary repairs, the island they would inspect tomorrow, -the wonderful adventure they had gone through. In the middle of the -dinner they heard voices raised in the cabin in which Beekman had been -sleeping. They recognized his own deep tones expostulating with the -steward; they even caught the sound of a little struggle. In her -agitation, Stephanie arose from the table as the door opened and -Beekman, clad in a set of his own pajamas, stood staring at the party. - -"Stephanie!" he exclaimed. "Thank God!" He made a step forward. "Just -as soon as the steward told me the name of the yacht and her owner, I -couldn't remain in the cabin. What happy fortune brought you here?" - -"We've been searching for you. Thank God, we've found you!" - -"And Truda?" asked Beekman, his eye taking in the cabin and overlooking -Harnash, who sat on the opposite side, his face as white as linen, -fingering the tablecloth nervously. "Truda?" he raised his voice. - -Truda was awake. At the sound of the voice of the man she loved she -brushed by the scandalized Celeste, and, clad only in Stephanie's -nightgown of diaphanous linen, she appeared in the doorway with extended -arms. Beekman, who seemed strangely oblivious to the fact that he too -was not arrayed in clothes appropriate to a dinner party, instantly -crossed the cabin and took her hand. - -"This," he said, "is Miss Truda Van Rooy, two hundred years ago of -Amsterdam, Holland, and--" - -"And today?" asked Stephanie, bewildered beyond measure and scarce -knowing what she asked. - -"Of the island at which your yacht has sought harbor." - - - - - *CHAPTER XXX* - - *REVELATIONS AND WITHHOLDINGS* - - -The only acknowledgment Miss Truda Van Rooy vouchsafed to this amazing -introduction was to sink to her knees by the side of Beekman and press -her pretty lips to his hand. The introduction and the action startled -Stephanie almost beyond the power of expression, but her surprise was -instantly lost in another consideration. - -Miss Truda Van Rooy on her native heath, clad only in a Polynesian -petticoat and her native modesty, was entirely unexceptionably clothed, -and no one would give a second thought to any possible deficiency in her -raiment; but Miss Truda Van Rooy in the luxurious and very up-to-date -cabin of the yacht, her delicate figure clearly discernible through -French lingerie, was an entirely different proposition. Everyone, even -Beekman, was acutely conscious of the situation except the girl herself. -If she thought about it at all, it would be with a sense of discomfort -begot by unusual draperies. For the rest, she made a lovely picture. - -She had rebraided her hair, and Celeste's deft fingers had given a -civilized touch to the twisted locks so gloriously crowning her lovely -head. Celeste, herself, more scandalized or at least less restrained in -her horror, stood in the doorway of the cabin, a picture of nervous -dismay. Stephanie, realizing the situation at last, was quicker to act. -She drew Truda to her feet, interposed her own person between the girl -and the others, and sought gently to force her back to the room whence -she had come; but Truda opposed this urging with a sudden fierce vigor, -despite her smaller stature and slighter build, against which the -American girl was more or less helpless. An unseemly struggle was only -prevented by a word from Beekman. - -"Go with her; I am in no danger," he said. - -"And who, may I ask, is she?" asked Mr. Maynard as the three women -disappeared in the cabin. - -"She is the last descendant of a shipload of Dutch soldiers, sailors, -and traders who were cast away on this island two hundred and fifty -years ago, together with some Polynesians they had picked up and who had -lived here ever since; 'the world forgetting--by the world forgot,'" he -added, the quotation being so exquisitely apt, although he was not in a -poetic mood. - -"And her relation to you, if I may ask?" - -"I have held her in as much respect as I have held your daughter, Mr. -Maynard," returned Beekman haughtily, for the question irked him -exceedingly, although he could not fail to recognize that it was natural -and indeed inevitable. "Until the earthquake and the tidal wave -yesterday," continued Beekman, "the barrier reef completely surrounded -the island. The people on it lived in a sort of cup, crater of an old -volcano, I think; very fertile and beautiful, but quite hidden from the -sea, access to it from the beach being extremely difficult, almost -impossible. The earthquake changed all that." Beekman had noted -through his cabin ports the situation of the yacht and the havoc wrought -by the awful catastrophe. "Tomorrow I will show you the island and we -will seek for survivors of the catastrophe. Have any been seen?" - -"None," answered Maynard. - -"Perhaps they have all perished," said Harnash, forcing himself to -speak. - -"A fitting end for an isolation of two centuries and a half," said -Beekman mournfully. - -"And how did you come to the island?" - -"It's a long story," answered Beekman. "I'll tell it to you when we are -all assembled. Meanwhile, if I could get some clothes--" - -"You have only to choose from your own, Derrick," said Harnash. "At -Stephanie's suggestion, when we started this search for you, we brought -along some of your clothes." - -"Good. And this beard--" - -"My man will fix you up," said Maynard. "I'll send him to you. Are you -hungry?" - -"The steward has been feeding me what he thinks is proper." - -"And your arm?" - -"Sore and stiff, but it will be all right in a day or two. I suppose I -should have stayed in the berth, but when I heard the name of the yacht -and caught the sound of your voices--well, you know. I'll be back just -as quickly as I can dress." - -When Beekman returned to the cabin half an hour later he was completely -metamorphosed. He laughed at his own fancy, but from the very complete -wardrobe they had brought him he had chosen to attire himself in the -same sort of a conventional dinner suit as Maynard and Harnash were -wearing. The thick beard and mustache which had so worried him had -disappeared under the deft manipulations of Mr. Maynard's man. Clean -shaven, clothed, in his right mind, one might have thought that the -adventures of the last year had passed over his head without a trace. - -For a moment poor Truda was hard put to recognize in this new man the -one she had loved and who had won her heart. On her part the change was -even more striking, albeit in a different direction. She was now -completely covered up. With exquisite taste, Stephanie and Celeste had -arrayed her in a soft, rich silken garment of mandarin blue -fantastically embroidered in delicate gold thread, a product of one of -the most famous looms of ancient China. It was confined about her waist -by a sash of cloth of gold, and fell in loose folds to her feet. The -two women had got stockings on her feet, but the ordinary slipper was -impossible. Soft footwear of Turkish leather met the situation. The -broad mandarin sleeves of the coat, or kimono, fell back when she lifted -her hands, revealing her exquisitely proportioned rounded arm. The -garment was cut low at the throat and held by a brooch of pearls, and, -to please her fancy, as one adorns a doll or child, Stephanie's famous -pearl necklace was clasped about Truda's warm, brown neck. From this -mass of blue and gold and white her lovely head with its golden crown -rose magnificently. Poor Truda had been as clay in the hands of the -potter. She had suffered everything silently without resistance. It had -been his will and she was his property. She had possessed all the -beauty of wild and lovely nature before. Without losing much of that -appeal, she now exhibited it in conjunction with an ancient oriental -civilization, albeit to occidental eyes half barbaric. - -Looking not unlike a lamb dressed for the slaughter, Truda sat by the -side of Stephanie, who seemed to the untutored eyes of the semi-savage -not unlike a goddess. The table had been cleared of all save the -after-dinner coffee and the decanters. Later, Beekman found himself -amazed at the ease with which he took up the customs of civilization and -its refinements after so long and so violent a break therewith. For the -moment he could only stare at Truda, and she returned the stare with -interest. Who was this radiant creature to whom the delights of color -had been added? he asked himself. Who was this godlike figure of man -in the awesome and yet enhancing raiment? she questioned. It was not -until Beekman smiled and spoke to her, using instinctively the familiar -Polynesian dialect, that she could catch her breath and feel her heart -resume its beat. He used the Polynesian because somehow it was more -intimate, because he could say in it what he liked to her without the -others being privy to his communication; and, finally, because he -instinctively divined that in her agitation, which was obvious, her -birth-language, which she had used from childhood, would be more -soothing and agreeable to her. Naturally, his first question was as to -her condition. - -"How do you feel after all we have been through?" - -"Well; and you?" said the girl, and all who listened so closely never -suspected that Truda knew any other language than that Beekman used, and -they were amazed at the music in her voice, the soft syllables falling -through her lips entrancingly. - -"I'm all right, save for this bruised arm, and that be well in a day or -so." - -Then Truda herself struck at him with a question. - -"This beautiful woman. You know her?" - -"Yes." - -That seemed perfectly natural to Truda. She had no idea of the size of -the world. All of these godlike beings must know one another as a -matter of course. - -"And you love her?" - -Beekman smiled. - -"I did once, but not now." - -"Is she the woman you told me of on the island?" - -Beekman nodded. - -"If you don't take me and keep me," said Truda, suddenly passionate, her -face flaming, "I shall die. You might better have let me go in the -waves yesterday." - -Beekman crossed the cabin and stopped by her side. He laid his hand on -her head and turned her face up to him. - -"You're the one woman for me, Truda," he said simply. Then realizing his -obligations to the rest, he turned to them. "You will be anxious to -know what we were talking about. I asked her how she was, and she told -me she was well and asked in her turn for my welfare." - -It was obvious to Stephanie at least that his translation by no means -represented the sum total of the conversation that had passed between -the two, but having her own ends to serve, like a wise woman, she gave -no voice to her suspicions. - -"Now, if you feel like it, we should like to hear the whole story," said -Maynard. - -"To begin with," said Beekman, "as George has probably told you, I guess -we had a glass too many on that last night in New York, although we -really drank so little that I have been inclined to the belief that -there must have been foul play somewhere. At any rate, all I really -know is that I woke up twenty-four hours or so later in the forecastle -of an old-fashioned sailing ship called the _Susquehanna_." - -"We learned that much ourselves," said Mr. Maynard. He pressed an -electric button on the bulkhead by his side, and to the steward who -answered he directed the boatswain to be summoned. "Just a moment, -Beekman," he said; "we have an old friend of yours aboard, and here he -is," he added as the weather-beaten, grizzled head of James Gersey was -cautiously projected around the door-jamb. "Come in, Bo's'n," he -exclaimed heartily. - -The next instant Beekman caught him by the hand. - -"How did you come here, Gersey?" he cried, "and how are Templin and the -rest of the men?" - -"Templin an' some others of us shipped aboard this yacht, Mr. Maynard -makin' the proposition an' Captain Weatherby bein' agreeable. We wanted -to hunt you up, an' bein' as we'd seed the last of you when we set you -adrift, 'twas thought we know'd more about you than anybody else an' -could be the best help." - -"Wonder of wonders!" exclaimed Beekman. "I guess your story comes -before mine, Mr. Maynard." - -"Well, to make it short," said Harnash, after a glance from Maynard, -"the _Susquehanna_ caught fire and was burned at sea. Captain Fish went -down with her, refusing to leave the bridge. The mate's boat was lost. -Gersey's boat was picked up and brought into Honolulu, and from him we -learned the whole story of your adventures on the ship. As soon as we -heard them we decided to search for you, in the hope that you might have -landed on some of these islands, or have been cast away, which has -proved to be the case, and here we are." - -"You know the unfortunate cause of my leaving the ship?" asked Beekman, -his brow darkening. - -"Of course; we have the log book of the _Susquehanna_." - -"And I must face a charge of murder when I get back?" - -"You needn't worry about that," said Maynard quickly. "Manuel made a -deposition saying it was in self-defense. The testimony of the men was -added. You'll never hear from it again." - -"Thank God for that!" said Beekman fervently. - -"Go on with your story." - -Rapidly and graphically Beekman put them in possession of the wondrous -romance of which he had been a part. Without reserve he told them -everything that had happened, except one thing--his love for Truda. He -suppressed that most carefully, and Truda, who sat silently listening, -her wits sharpened by love and jealousy, understanding much more than he -or anyone dreamed, noted that fact with a horrible sinking of the heart. -In her simplicity she could not believe that anyone could love her after -seeing Stephanie. - -Now, Beekman purposely left out of the conversation that feature of his -life. His relations with Stephanie were still, to all intents and -purposes, what they had been. As he reflected upon it while dressing, -it seemed to him that she had offered him the greatest evidence of -devotion to him by coming on the cruise to search for him. That any -other motive was back of her action naturally did not occur to him. He -inferred that she was more in love with him than he had dreamed. He -recognized that her presence added to her claim upon him. It was a -situation fraught with difficulty. - -It was evidence to his own heart of the depth and sincerity of his -feeling for Truda that the presence of Stephanie only disquieted him, -and that even her lovely perfection did not move him one bit. He could -not, however, as he was a gentleman, blurt out the fact that he no -longer loved her, did not want to marry her, and would not marry her. -Hence the constraint and restraint with which he told the story. It was -a tale sufficiently thrilling in itself, such as Sindbad the Sailor -might have told to some auditory in the _Arabian Nights_, and their -arrival at that very island after that tremendous, titanic convulsion of -nature which had brought them together, was not the least wonderful -feature of the whole situation. - -When he was finished they questioned him. Especially were they -interested in the history of the people of the _Good Intent_, whom they -had followed into the harbor after a lapse of two hundred and fifty -years. - -"I have no doubt that the earthquake shock, which was sufficient to tear -away one side of the island wall and this harbor, as you have seen--for, -before, every side was as sheer as the side off to port yonder--has -wrought terrible damage to the settlement; but we shall find that out -tomorrow." - -"Meanwhile," observed Maynard, "I think we have had quite enough -excitement for the day." - -"And our interest in your story has caused us to forget the awful strain -you have sustained, to say nothing of this dear girl here," said -Stephanie. - -She patted Truda's hand as she spoke, and smiled at her kindly. She had -hoped that in Truda lay the solution of the tangled relations between -Beekman and herself, and her natural kindliness of heart was thereby -intensified. And, besides, with a thought for her lover, she was glad -for a postponement of the inevitable disclosure. - -"We must all turn in," chimed in the wretched Harnash, thankful for a -further respite of a few hours. "Captain Weatherby will want us out of -the ship in the morning, anyway." - -"Exactly," said Maynard, with the same thought as the others. "After -another night's rest you will be in better condition to show us -everything we are so anxious to see." - -"Before we separate," continued Harnash, "I want to tell you, Derrick, -that our business affairs are in the best condition. On your behalf and -my own, I have entered into a business relation with Mr. Maynard. We -have been unusually successful, and our own investments have about -doubled, I think." - -"That's good," said Beekman. - -"I'll take you in with me and Harnash, who has already proved -invaluable," said Mr. Maynard, "on the same terms, Derrick, so your -future will be assured." - -This was good news to Beekman, but it was bad news, too, for it added to -the obligations of the engagement. He put a good face upon the matter, -however, and thanked Maynard cordially. - -"Now we'll bid you good-night," said Stephanie, rising, Truda following -her example. - -She had extended her hand to Beekman. He had made no previous effort to -kiss or embrace her, of course, although their engagement would have -abundantly warranted him in such affectionate greetings. Now he took -her hand, however, and kissed it tenderly. Poor little Truda lifted her -face up toward him in turn, but the necessities of the situation made -Beekman turn away, which added to the girl's heart-break, for she could -not know of the pang his refusal gave him. She could not understand why -the parting that night was so different from other partings which had -taken place on the island. He had always kissed her before, why not -now? It must be because of this new and glorious woman. She had felt, -after the terrible hazards they had survived, that nothing could -possibly come between them; but that something had was obvious. She -stifled her feelings with the stoicism of a savage, which is exactly -paralleled by the repression of civilization, and turned and followed -Stephanie to her cabin. - -She refused the bed in the cabin. She even shook her head at the -luxurious sofa opposite, which was offered her. She piled some cushions -on the floor, divested herself of her clothing, as was her primitive -habit, drew a rug over her as a concession to the civilization she was -dimly beginning to comprehend, and at once feigned sleep. So also did -Stephanie, and the two women lay awake a long time, waiting with anxious -hearts for the day. - -Of the two, Truda was the sadder, because she thought she was losing her -lover; while Stephanie, in spite of her anxiety, was confident that -things would work out right in the end for all of them. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXXI* - - *VI ET ARMIS* - - -The next morning Captain Weatherby was glad indeed to be rid of his -passengers. His divers had already found the leak. It was now his -opinion that the broken plate could be replaced and the leak made tight, -or controlled, until they could get to a dry dock in some civilized -port, without careening the ship. If all went well, in two days the -_Stephanie_ would be ready to leave the island. Of course they would -have to get her off the sand, but she had been so beached that with the -numerous crew she carried the captain could improvise a cofferdam and -dig her out, if necessary, although that would naturally be the last -resort. It was probable that ground tackle and her own extra-powerful -engines would do the trick. Meantime there was much work for all hands, -and the idlers were better away. - -After breakfast, which was a trying meal for Truda, since she had no -knowledge whatever of the utensils and equipment of civilization, the -two women and the three men, accompanied by Dr. Welch, who had -pronounced both patients well on the way to recovery, but who thought -best to keep them under observation while he visited and examined the -island from a scientist's point of view, were ferried over on an -improvised raft to the strand, whence they found it not a difficult -climb to the upland. - -Horrible indeed had been the destruction by the storm that had followed -the earthquake. What had been a paradise was now devastated. A few of -the animals were still alive, but not a single human being was seen. The -little settlement was in ruins. Every house had been leveled to the -ground. A deep crevice had opened in the basic rock. It ran underneath -the ruin of the church. Beneath the great heaps of stone on either side -of this gulf they could see the crushed bodies of the islanders. It was -easy to reconstruct the scene and to realize what had happened. The -storm had given them plenty of warning. It was of so unusual a -character that they had had an abundance of time to choose their places -of shelter. Moved by such a mental stimulus, as can easily be imagined, -they had chosen to assemble in the taboo house. The taboo had been -broken, anyway. The god was angry with them. This was the form of his -punishment. What was more natural than that they should turn to him? -Perhaps they had some idea of prayer; it may be some lingering remains -of Christian faith, which would have led them to assemble in the church -in time of peril, had been added to the consciousness that the taboo was -broken. At any rate, the men, women, and children all of them had -crowded into the church. It was the largest and most substantial of all -the buildings, and the earthquake had thrown it down upon them. - -The huge rift that had been opened in the island had engulfed many of -them, evidently. Whatever the case, not one of them was alive. The -rift had divided the ruin into two parts. Most of the people evidently -had remained near the door. Old Kobe's body was found in the opening in -the rail, his hand stretched out to the broken altar upon which the -mouldering cross still stood. They found the two precious books without -much difficulty, and that was all. - -Truda had disappeared. She presently rejoined them, clad in her usual -way in one of the grass or fiber petticoats which she had resurrected -from one of the houses of the women which had not been completely -demolished. She had laid aside the light garments which Stephanie had -put on her, and she seemed a different woman. They noticed it, of -course, but made no comment. And now Dr. Welch, easily realizing that -the friends would rather be alone, made his excuses and wandered away, -out of hearing, at any rate, while he busied himself in observation and -interesting studies. - -"I'll have Captain Weatherby send a party of men to clear this away and -give the bodies decent burial," said Maynard, breaking the solemn pause. - -"That's good," observed Beekman; "I was about to suggest it." - -"Well, there's nothing further to do here," said Stephanie. "Let's go -back to the yacht." - -"Before we go," broke in Harnash, "I've got something to tell you, -Derrick, and the best place and time is here and now." - -The moment had come! - -"And I also have something to tell all of you," answered Beekman, -realizing that he must settle his affairs sooner or later, and his -natural temperament inclining him to sooner rather than later. -Stephanie knew perfectly well what Beekman had to tell. She had not -seen him and Truda together without becoming entirely aware of the state -of affairs, but Beekman had no idea of the communication Harnash -intended to make. He looked at him as he spoke. "Good God, old man, -what's the matter?" he burst out. "You're as white as the spray -yonder." - -"I've a confession to make, and I want to tell you before I make it that -I do it of my own free will. After you know what I've done, you will -hardly believe that, but Mr. Maynard and Stephanie can both testify to -that." - -"We can," said Maynard. - -"And we do," added Stephanie. - -"George, I don't know how to take this tone from you. I've always found -you strictly honorable. Your word has always been your bond. And your -friendship has been beyond price. You can't have anything very dreadful -to confess, I imagine. It can't be money, because you just told me -about the investments." - -"I wish to God it were," said Harnash bitterly. "I'd rather be branded -as a thief than--" - -A dawning suspicion flashed into Beekman's mind. Why had he never -thought of it before? His face changed. - -"What is it?" he demanded. "Speak out." - -"You wondered how you were shanghaied and I was not. Well, I--I did it." - -"What?" - -"I had it done, that is." - -"Ah, and Woywod?" - -"He was a boyhood friend. He would do anything for me. It was through -him." - -"By God!" cried Beekman passionately, forgetting everything else as his -life on that hell ship came back to him, as he recalled the brutal -bullying and the miseries that he and all the other men had endured, and -that last terrible scene in the cabin, which had stained his hands with -the blood of man; and that it was in self-defense did not make the stain -any less vivid. "You--my friend--the best man--at my wedding!" - -Harnash, by a magnificent display of courage, kept his head erect and -forced himself to look squarely into Beckman's eyes. Maynard watched -the two men with a curious interest as he might have watched a great -dramatic climax in a play. Stephanie was fearfully concerned, yet she -was proud of her lover, for in an utterly impossible position no man -could bear himself with more courage and more dignity than Harnash -exhibited then. - -"Yes," he said, "you can't say anything to me that I haven't said to -myself. You can't characterize my conduct more bitterly than I have -done." - -"Damn you," cried Beekman, his quick temper entirely uppermost, and -before anyone could say a word or interpose he leaped upon Harnash. He -had only the use of his left hand, but with that he struck him a fearful -blow on the side of his face. "When I think of all you made me suffer," -he continued, "I could kill you." - -"I call heaven to witness, and you all," cried Harnash, the blood -flaming in his cheek beneath Beekman's hand, "that I sustain this blow -not because I fear but because I merit it. You see that Beekman's right -arm is helpless; I could kill him if I would, but I deserve it." He -turned his face toward his friend. "Strike again," he said, with -sublime, almost heroic, purpose; but Beekman's hand fell. - -What Harnash said was true. The two were not equally matched. Under -ordinary circumstances Beekman was the stronger, but now the advantage -was with the other man. "I couldn't strike a second time a man who won't -strike back. If you would fight me I'd kill you with one hand. Why did -you do it?" - -Now it was Stephanie's turn. She interposed. - -"Because I loved him." - -"You?" - -"Yes, I." - -"And our engagement?" - -"I would have carried it through. I refused to tell you the truth." - -"What truth?" - -"That I loved George and that he loved me." - -"So you made love to my promised wife behind my back, did you?" cried -Beekman, the scorn and contempt he infused into his words fairly -scorching Harnash. - -"I loved her before you did," protested the other, "but I never said a -word to her. I never sought anything from her until--until--I--" - -"Until I let him see that I didn't care for you, except as a friend, and -that I did care for him," put in Stephanie deftly again. - -"What then?" - -"I begged that I might tell you the true facts of the case," said -Harnash. - -"And again I refused," said Stephanie. "I knew that marriage was my -father's wish. It had been arranged with your father. I believed that -you loved me. There was no other way." - -"And did you know that he intended to do this?" asked Beekman in his -rage. - -"Now, by God, that's too much," cried Harnash. "That's an infernal -shame. You can insult me, but you can't insult her, Beekman!" He -stepped forward with clenched fist. - -"Strike one blow. I beg you to do it," taunted Beekman. - -But Mr. Maynard interposed between the two men and held them apart, for -now Harnash, as angry as the other, would have struck him. Beekman had -lost some of the advantage of his position by his implied charge against -the woman. - -"I didn't know it," answered Stephanie quickly, "but if I had I might -have--the temptation--you didn't love me, did you?" - -"I did then, but not now," answered Beekman scornfully. - -"Ah," said Stephanie, quickly and greatly relieved, "I thought so." - -"If you had only come frankly and told me the state of affairs, how much -trouble would have been avoided," continued Beekman. - -"Yes," said Stephanie, "we see that now; but, on the other hand, you -wouldn't have won the heart of the woman you do love," she continued -boldly, staking everything on her guess. - -It was the first moment in the interview that Beekman had given a -thought to Truda. Instinctively he turned to look for her. She had -been standing near by, listening. She had made out, with her imperfect -knowledge of English, only that these two men were quarreling over this -woman. It intensified her conviction that Beekman must love this -glorious woman. There was no place in his heart for her. Outside his -heart there was no life possible for her. Her people were all gone. -The island was a ruin. There was but one course left her. She stole -softly away and presently began to run. - -Now, the earthquake and storm had overthrown the clump of trees which -hid the little amphitheater on the top of the cliff, still intact, -whence Truda and her forebears for so many years watched the open sea, -and the long path was clearly visible from where they stood. They could -see her bright figure, outlined against the gray rocks, running toward -the brink. Of what she would do there, no one, of course, could be -sure, but in Beekman's mind flashed a suspicion which grew to a -certainty. He forgot Stephanie; he forgot Harnash; he forgot his -wrongs--he forgot everything but that far-off flying figure! - -"My God!" he cried, "she thinks I don't care. She'll throw herself over -the cliff." - -Without a word, he tore over the debris-encumbered path, and without a -second's hesitation the others followed. Even Stephanie gathered up her -skirts and ran like Camilla over the ground. Dr. Welch, happening to -turn at the moment, saw them and followed also. As he ran, with deadly -fear in his heart, Beekman shouted after her. - -"Truda," he cried. "Stop! for God's sake, wait!" - -It was the first intimation the others had received that she understood -English. But Truda ran on. She heard his voice, indeed. She partly -comprehended his appeal, but it seemed to her that it was only in pity -that he called. She was possessed by a certain panic terror, a certain -wild jealousy, a certain horrible despair. She could never be like that -glorious creature over whom the men quarreled as men have quarreled -since time and the world began. Even if he did love her, he could never -love her long. There was a passionate abasement in the swift -comparisons she had been making since she had been brought on board the -yacht. It was no use. She must go on. And not only did her own misery -impel her flying feet, but some vivid considerations for his happiness. -She was not of his kind. She was only a savage islander. She only -realized it since she had been picked up by the yacht, because she had -never before had any standards of comparison. Thus, in spite of the -second that her heart gave to his appeal for the moment, she ran on. - -Beekman stumbled and fell. He fell on his wounded arm, opening the -wound again. He lay half-stunned for a moment, and by the time he had -struggled to his feet the others had joined him. The race was lost. -Truda had won. The little group around Beekman could see clearly into -the amphitheater which Truda had entered. She stepped to the edge and -glanced down. The sheer fall of perhaps five hundred feet would kill -her instantly. It had been her purpose to fling herself from the brink -without a moment's hesitation, but, like Lot's wife, she was fain to -take one look backward, one glance of farewell. - -"Oh, God!" cried Beekman, stretching out his left hand, the only one he -could move, to the little figure posed against the sky in all its golden -brilliance as he had seen it when he had lain upon the sand, a castaway, -the first morning on that island. He thought and they all thought she -would go over without hesitating, but she looked back. That backward -look was her salvation. - -Quicker witted than any, and realizing from her own womanly intuition -what was in her sister woman's mind, Stephanie saved the day. As -Truda's head came around, Stephanie took the boldest and most -astonishing action of her whole life. There, in plain view of Truda, -she struck Beekman full in the face with her clenched fist, and before -anyone could stop her she struck again and again. She rained blow after -blow upon him. She was a vigorous young woman, and in her excitement -she had no idea of the power which her frantic excitement gave to her -blows. Beekman, half-dazed from the other fall, and weakened from loss -of blood from the reopened wound in his arm, was too astonished for -resistance. Indeed, the first blow was enough. Instinctively, as one -blow succeeded another, he threw up his arm vainly and then went down -fairly under a mighty thrust into which she put all the force of her -body. Indeed, she almost leaped upon him as he staggered backward. She -recovered her balance with difficulty as Beekman fell a second time. He -cut his head on a rock as he went down, and lay there with his arms -outsprawled, senseless. As he did so Stephanie stepped forward with -uplifted foot as if to stamp upon him. The next moment, Harnash, -thinking her mad, clasped her in his arms. - -"Stop, stop," he cried. "What has he done to you?" - -"It was the only way," screamed Stephanie, hysterically. "Look!" - -Then, and not until then, did they appreciate the meaning of her action. -It was plain to the jealous heart of Truda. She had seen the first blow -and the second. She had seen her lover go down. She saw him lying -there. What was this woman doing? How dared she lift a hand against -Beekman? Had he been killed? Rage--hot, savage, passionate--filled -Truda's heart. There would be time enough to die later. Meanwhile she -must teach this woman a lesson. - -More swiftly than she had fled, she turned from the cliff brink and came -bounding down the path, and yet there was some joy in her heart. -Whatever Beekman might feel for this woman, it was obvious that she -regarded him with scorn. But it was mainly murderous resentment that -filled Truda's soul. Her face was transformed. It was convulsed with -passion, with anger, with savage rage. There might have been some -infiltration, some slight strain of Polynesian blood in this woman. She -was aflame to defend her lover, with the spirit of the lioness -sacrificing her life for her cub. In fact, the passion in her face was -appalling. - -"Father," cried Stephanie as she approached, "don't you see?" - -It was Maynard who caught the island girl in his arms. It was he who -held her firmly, despite her frantic struggles, while Stephanie -approached, with Harnash holding her tightly, but to protect her from -assault, because now he knew why she had done it. - -"I only did it to stop you," she cried. "He loves you, not me. This is -the man I love. Don't you understand?" - -The passion faded out of Truda's face. She did indeed understand. She -had been blind, mad to have doubted her lover. A great anxiety came -into her face. She stared down at Beekman in agonized contrition and -alarm. Her heart almost stopped at what she saw. Mr. Maynard released -her, gave her freedom. She knelt down by her lover's side. She lifted -his head in her arms and laid it against her breast. She called to him -passionately in every language with which she was familiar. She pressed -her lips to his lips, to his face, to his bleeding forehead. - -Dr. Welch now came up with the party. Fortunately, he had brought a -flask with him. A few drops restored Beekman to consciousness. He -opened his eyes and gazed into Truda's face. - -"Truda!" he said, struggling to a sitting position. "Thank God, you came -back to me!" - -"And this woman?" asked Truda, looking up at Stephanie. "Do you love -her?" - -She would have the truth from him, not from Stephanie or any other. - -He shook his head. - -"Forgive me, Stephanie. I love only you, Truda." - -"But when you go back to that other world of which you told me, and I am -there, alone?" - -"I will love only you," he answered in a voice which carried conviction -even to Truda. - -She bent over him and laid her face in his hands. - -"It strikes me," said Mr. Maynard, "that you haven't come out so badly, -after all, Beekman." - -"No," said Beekman. "Harnash, it was a--it wasn't a--pleasant--thing -you did, but now that I love Truda, I can understand. We'll say no -more. Let's forget it and be friends again." - -"And you forgive me?" asked Stephanie, kneeling by his side, while Truda -jealously raised her arm as a barrier. Stephanie laughed. "I won't -touch him," she said. - -"What shall I forgive?" - -"That violent assault of a moment since," she said as a deep flush -spread over her face. "It was the only way to let her see we were -nothing to each other." - -"It was a very effective way," said Beekman, his native humor coming to -the rescue. "George," he said, extending his hand to his friend, "let -me give you a piece of advice. Take a few boxing lessons before you take -this lady for your wife." - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BY THE WORLD FORGOT *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/46600 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the -General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and -distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works to protect the -Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and trademark. 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