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diff --git a/6014-h/6014-h.htm b/6014-h/6014-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7d21718 --- /dev/null +++ b/6014-h/6014-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13854 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + West Wind Drift, by George Barr McCutcheon + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of West Wind Drift, by George Barr McCutcheon + +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 www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: West Wind Drift + +Author: George Barr McCutcheon + +Release Date: March 26, 2009 [EBook #6014] +Last Updated: March 12, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WEST WIND DRIFT *** + + + + +Produced by Carrie Fellman, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + WEST WIND DRIFT + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By George Barr McCutcheon + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + On a bright, still morning in October, the Doraine sailed from a South + American port and turned her glistening nose to the northeast. All told, + there were some seven hundred and fifty souls on board; and there were + stores that filled her holds from end to end,—grain, foodstuffs, + metals, chemicals, rubber and certain sinister things of war. Her + passenger list contained the names of men who had achieved distinction in + world affairs,—in finance, in business, in diplomacy, in war, + besides that less subtle pursuit, adventure: men from both hemispheres, + from all continents. It was a cosmopolitan company that sailed out to sea + that placid day, bound for a port six thousand miles away. + </p> + <p> + Her departure, heavy-laden, from this South American port was properly + recorded in the then secret annals of a great nation; the world at large, + however, was none the wiser. For those were the days when sly undersea + monsters of German descent were prowling about the oceans, taking toll of + humanity and breeding the curse that was to abide with their progenitors + forever. + </p> + <p> + Down through the estuary and into the spreading bay slid the big steamer; + abreast the curving coast-line she drove her way for leagues and leagues, + and then swept boldly into the vast Atlantic desert. + </p> + <p> + Four hundred years ago and more, Amerigo Vespucci had sailed this unknown + southern sea in his doughty caravel; he had wallowed and rocked for months + over a course that the Doraine was asked to cover in the wink of an eye by + comparison. Up from the south he had come in an age when the seas he + sailed were no less strange than the land he touched from time to time; + the blue waste of sky and sea as boundless then as now; the west wind + drift as sure and unfailing; the waves as savage or as mild; the star by + which he laid his course as far away and immutable,—but he came in + 1501 and his ship was alone in the trackless ocean. + </p> + <p> + The mighty Doraine was not alone; she sailed a sea whose every foot was + charted, whose every depth was sounded. She sailed in an age of Titans, + while the caravel was a frolicksome pygmy, dancing to the music of a + thousand winds, buffeted today, becalmed tomorrow, but always a snail on + the face of the waters. Four hundred years ago Vespucci and his men were + lost in the wilderness of waves. Out of touch with the world were they for + months,—aye, even years,—and no man knew whither they sailed + nor whence they came, for those were the days when the seven seas kept + their secrets better than they keep them now. + </p> + <p> + Into the path traversed by the lowly caravel steamed the towering Doraine, + pointing her gleaming nose to the north and east. + </p> + <p> + She was never seen again. + </p> + <p> + Out from the lairs of the great American navy sped the swiftest hounds of + the ocean. They swept the face of the waters with a thousand sleepless + eyes; they called with the strange, mysterious voice that carries a + thousand miles; they raked the sea as with a fine-tooth comb; they + searched the coast of a continent; they penetrated its rivers, circled its + islands, scanned its rocks and reefs,—and asked a single question + that had but one reply from every ship that sailed the southern sea. + </p> + <p> + For months ships of all nations searched for the missing steamer. Not so + much as the smallest piece of wreckage rewarded the ceaseless quest. The + great vessel, with all its precious cargo, had slipped into its niche + among the profoundest mysteries of the sea. Came the day, therefore, when + the Secretary of the Navy wrote down against her name the ugly sentence: + “Lost with all on board.” + </p> + <p> + Maritime courts issued their decrees; legatees parcelled estates, great + and small; insurance companies paid in hard cash for the lives that were + lost, and went blandly about their business; more than one widow + reconsidered her thoughts of self-denial; and ships again sailed the + course of Amerigo Vespucci without a thought of the Doraine. + </p> + <p> + For months the newspapers in many lands speculated on the fate of the + missing liner. That a great ship could disappear from the face of the + waters in these supreme days of navigation without leaving so much as a + trace behind was inconceivable. At first there were tales of the dastardly + U-boats; then came the sinister reports of treachery on board resulting in + the ship being taken over by German plotters, with the prediction that she + would emerge from oblivion as a well-armed “raider” cruising in the North + Atlantic; then the generally accepted theory that she had been swiftly, + suddenly rent asunder by a mighty explosion in her hold. All opinions, all + theories, all conjectures, however, revolved about a single fear;—that + she was the victim of a German plot. But in the course of events there + came a day when the German Navy, ever boastful of its ignoble deeds, + issued the positive and no doubt sincere declaration that it had no record + of the sinking of the Doraine. The fate of the ship was as much of a + mystery to the German admiralty as it was to the rest of the puzzled + world. + </p> + <p> + And so it was that the Doraine, laden with nearly a thousand souls, sailed + out into the broad Atlantic and was never heard from again. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>BOOK ONE</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> <b>BOOK TWO</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> <b>BOOK THREE</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + BOOK ONE. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + The Captain of the liner was an old man. He had sailed the seas for + two-score years, at least half of them as master. At the outbreak of the + Great War he was given command of the Doraine, relieving a younger man for + more drastic duty in the North Sea. He was an Englishman, and his name, + Weatherby Trigger, may be quite readily located on the list of retired + naval officers in the British Admiralty offices if one cares to go to the + trouble to look it up. + </p> + <p> + After two years the Doraine, with certain other vessels involved in a + well-known and somewhat thoroughly debated transaction, became to all + intents and purposes the property of the United States of America; she + flew the American flag, carried an American guncrew and American papers, + and, with some difficulty, an English master. The Captain was making his + last voyage as master of the ship. An American captain was to succeed him + as soon as the Doraine reached its destination in the United States. + Captain Trigger, a little past seventy, had sailed for nearly two years + under the American flag at a time when all Englishmen were looking askance + at it and wondering if it was ever to take its proper place among the + righteous banners of the world. It had taken its place among them, and the + “old man” was happy. + </p> + <p> + His crew of one hundred and fifty was what might be aptly described as + international. The few Englishmen he had on board were noticeably unfit + for active duty in the war zone. There was a small contingent of + Americans, a great many Portuguese, some Spaniards, Norwegians, and a more + or less polyglot remainder without national classification. + </p> + <p> + His First Officer was a Scotch-American, the Second an Irish-American, the + Chief Engineer a plain unhyphenated American from Baltimore, Maryland. The + purser, Mr. Codge, was still an Englishman, although he had lived in the + United States since he was two years old,—a matter of forty-seven + years and three months, if we are to believe Mr. Codge, who seemed rather + proud of the fact that his father had neglected to forswear allegiance to + Queen Victoria, leaving it to his son to follow his example in the case of + King Edward the Seventh and of King George the Fifth. + </p> + <p> + There were eighty-one first-cabin passengers, one hundred and nineteen in + the second cabin,—for the two had not been consolidated on the + Doraine as was the case with the harried trans-Atlantic liners,—and + approximately three hundred and fifty in the steerage. The first and + second cabin lists represented many races, South Americans predominating. + </p> + <p> + The great republics in the lower half of the hemisphere were cut off + almost entirely from the Old World so far as general travel was concerned. + The people of Argentine, Brazil and Chili turned their eyes from the east + and looked to the north, where lay the hitherto ignored and sometime hated + continent whose middle usurped the word American. A sea voyage in these + parlous days meant but one thing to the people of South America: a visit + to an unsentimental land whose traditions, if any were cherished at all, + went back no farther than yesterday and were to be succeeded by fresh ones + tomorrow. At least, such was the belief of the Latin who still dozed + superciliously in the glory of his long-dead ancestors. Not having Paris, + or London, or Madrid, or Rome as the Mecca of his dreams, his pilgrimage + now carried him to the infidel realities of the North,—to + Washington, New York, New Orleans, Newport and Atlantic City! He had the + money for travel, so why stay at home? He had the money to waste, so why + not dissipate? He had the thirst for sin, so why famish? + </p> + <p> + There were lovely women on board, and children with and without the golden + spoon; there were men whose names were known on both sides of the Atlantic + and whose reputations for integrity, sagacity, intellect, and,—it + must be confessed,—corruptness, (with the author's apology for the + inclusion); doughty but dogmatic university men who had penetrated the + wildernesses as naturalists, entomologists, mineralogists, archaeologists, + explorers; sportsmen who had forsaken the lion, rhinoceros, hartebeest and + elephant of Africa for the jaguar, cougar, armadillo and anteater of South + America; soldiers of fortune whose gods had lured them into the + comparative safety of South American revolutions; miners, stock buyers and + raisers, profiteersmen, diplomats, priests, preachers, gamblers, smugglers + and thieves; others who had gone out for the Allies to buy horses, beeves, + grain, metal, chemicals, manganese and men; financiers, merchants, + lawyers, writers, musicians, doctors, dentists, architects; gentiles and + Jews, Protestants and Catholics, skeptics and infidels,—in short, + good men, bad men, beggar men, thieves. + </p> + <p> + The world will readily recall such names and personalities as these: Abel + T. Landover, the great New York banker; Peter Snipe, the novelist; Solomon + Nicklestick, the junior member in the firm of Winkelwein & + Nicklestick, importers of hides, etc., Ninth Avenue, New York; Moses + Block, importer of rubber; James January Jones, of San Francisco, promoter + and financier; Randolph Fitts, of Boston, the well-known architect; Percy + Knapendyke, the celebrated naturalist; Michael O'Malley Malone, of the law + firm of Eads, Blixton, Solomon, Carlson, Vecchiavalli, Revitsky, Perkins + & Malone, New York; William Spinney, of the Chicago Police force, (and + his prisoner, “Soapy” Shay, diamond thief); Denby Flattner, the + taxidermist; Morris Shine, the motion picture magnate; Madame + Careni-Amori, soprano from the Royal Opera, Rome; Signer Joseppi, the new + tenor, described as the logical successor to the great Caruso; Madame + Obosky and three lesser figures in the Russian Ballet, who were coming to + the United States to head a long-heralded tour, “by special arrangement + with the Czar”; Buck Chizler, the famous jockey,—and so on. + </p> + <p> + These were the names most conspicuously displayed by the newspapers during + the anxious, watchful days and weeks that succeeded the sailing of the + Doraine from the port in the Tropic of Capricorn. + </p> + <p> + Dozens of cities in the United States were represented by one or more + persons on board the Doraine, travellers of both sexes who, being denied + the privilege of a customary dash to Europe for the annual holiday, + resolved not to be deprived of their right to wander, nor the right to + return when they felt inclined. Whilom, defiant rovers in search of + change, they scoffed at conditions and went their way regardless of the + peril that stalked the seas. In the main they were money-spending, + time-dragging charges against the resources of a harassed, bewildered + government, claiming protection in return for arrogance. + </p> + <p> + Far to the south, off the Falkland Islands, at the bottom of the sea, lay + the battered hulls of what ware supposed to be the last of the German + fighting-ships in South Atlantic waters. Report had it, however, that + several well-armed cruisers had either escaped the hurricane of shells + from the British warships, or had been detached from the squadron before + the encounter took place. In any event, no vessel left a South American + port without maintaining a sharp lookout for prowling survivors of the + vanquished fleet, and no passenger went aboard who did not experience the + thrill of a hazardous undertaking. The ever-present and ever-ready + individual with official information from sources that could not be + questioned, travelled with remarkable regularity on each and every craft + that ventured out upon the Hun-infested waters. In the smoke-room the + invariable word went round that raiders were sinking everything in sight. + Every ship that sailed had on board at least one individual who claimed to + have been chased on a former voyage by a blockade-breaker,—(according + to the most reliable reports, the Germans were slipping warships through + the vaunted British net with the most astounding ease and frequency,)—and + there was no one with the hardihood or desire to question his veracity; + indeed, it was something of a joy to believe him, for was he not a living + and potential document to prove that the merchant marine could outwit, + outrace and outshoot the German pirates? + </p> + <p> + The Doraine was barely twenty-four hours out from port and ploughing along + steadily through a choppy sea when Mr. Mott, the First Officer, reported + to Captain Trigger that a stowaway had been found on board. + </p> + <p> + “German?” inquired Captain Trigger tersely. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. At least, he doesn't look it and, what's more, he doesn't act + it. Claims to be American born and bred.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what a great many Germans are claiming these days, Mr. Mott. We + can't take any chances, you know. Where was he found?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott cleared his throat. “Ahem! He wasn't what you might call found, + sir. As a matter of fact, he applied in person to the Chief Engineer about + half an hour ago and asked for a job. He said he was perfectly willing to + work out his passage home. Mr. Gray had him conducted to me, sir,—rather + sharply guarded, of course,—and he—” + </p> + <p> + “Fetch him here at once, Mr. Mott,” commanded Captain Trigger. “I'll hear + what he has to say first hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir.” Mr. Mott started away, hesitated, rubbed his chin + dubiously, and then came back. “He's having a bit of breakfast, sir, and + has asked for the loan of Mr. Codge's razors—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” roared the captain. + </p> + <p> + “I informed him he would have to appear before you at once, sir, and he + said he was quite willing to do so, but would it be possible for him to + tidy up a bit beforehand. I am obliged to confess, sir, that I have never + encountered a more interesting stowaway in all my career, which leads me + to confess still further that I gave orders to feed him,—he hasn't + had a mouthful to eat since we left port, owing to the fact, he says, that + his luggage shifted the first day out and try as he would he couldn't + locate it without a match, or something to that effect,—he rather + stumped me, sir, with the graceful way he lies,—and then Mr. Codge + agreed to let him take one of his razors, and when I left him below, sir, + it seemed quite certain that Mr. Gray was on the point of lending him a + shirt and a change of underwear. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Good God, sir!” gasped Captain Trigger, with something more than emotion + in his voice. “What is this you are telling me?” + </p> + <p> + “He seems a most likeable chap,” explained Mr. Mott lamely. “Quite a + courteous fellow, too, sir. I forgot to mention that he sent his + compliments to you and asks for an interview at your earliest conven—” + </p> + <p> + “Asked for an interview? Drag him here at once—by the heels, if + necessary. Tell him I shan't keep him waiting an instant,” said the + captain ironically. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott still hesitated. “In the event, sir, that he is in the midst of + shaving—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care a hang what he's in the midst of,” exclaimed Captain + Trigger. “Even in the midst of changing shirts. Present my compliments to + him, Mr. Mott, and say that he needn't dress up on my account. I am an + old-fashioned sailor-man. It is nothing new to me to see men who haven't + shaved in a fortnight, and others who never change shirts.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir,” said Mr. Mott, and departed. + </p> + <p> + Presently he reappeared with the stowaway in charge. + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger beheld a well set-up young man of medium height, with + freshly shaven chin and jaws, carefully brushed hair, spotless white shirt + and collar, and,—revealed in a quick glance,—recently scrubbed + hands. His brown Norfolk jacket was open, and he carried a brand new, + though somewhat shapeless pan-ama hat in his hand. Evidently he had ceased + fanning himself with it at the moment of entering the captain's presence. + The keen, good-looking face was warm and moist as the result of a most + violent soaping. He wore corduroy riding-breeches, cavalry boots that + betrayed their age in spite of a late polishing at the hands of an + energetic and carefully directed bootblack, and a broad leather belt from + which only half an eye was required to see that a holster had been + detached with a becoming regard for neatness. His hair was thick and + sun-bleached; his eyes, dark and unafraid, met the stern gaze of the + captain with directness and respect; his lips and chin were firm in + repose, but they might easily be the opposite if relaxed; his skin was so + tanned and wind-bitten that the whites of his eyes were startlingly + defined and vivid. He was not a tall man,—indeed, one would have + been justified in suspecting him of being taller than he really was + because of the more or less deceiving erectness with which he carried + himself. As a matter of fact, he was not more than five feet ten or ten + and a half. + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger eyed him narrowly for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “A. A. Percival, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Your full name, young man. No initials.” + </p> + <p> + The stowaway seemed to add an inch to his height before replying. + </p> + <p> + “Algernon Adonis Percival, sir,” he said, a very clear note of defiance in + his voice. + </p> + <p> + The Captain looked at the First Officer, and the First Officer, after a + brief stare at the speaker, looked at the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “It's his right name, you can bet, sir,” said Mr. Mott, with conviction. + “Nobody would voluntarily give himself a name like that.” + </p> + <p> + “You never can tell about these Americans, Mr. Mott,” said the Captain + warily. “They've got what they call a keen sense of humour, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival smiled. His teeth were very white and even. + </p> + <p> + “I am a first and only child,” he explained. “That ought to account for + it, sir,” he went on, a trifle defensively. + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger did not smile. Mr. Mott, however, looked distinctly + sympathetic. + </p> + <p> + “You say you are an American,—a citizen of the United States?” + demanded the former. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. My home is in Baltimore.” + </p> + <p> + “Baltimore?” repeated Mr. Mott quickly. “That's where Mr. Gray hails from, + sir,” he added, as a sort of apology to the Captain for the exclamation. + </p> + <p> + The Captain's gaze settled on the stowaway's spotless white shirt and + collar. Then he nodded his head slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gray is the Chief Engineer,” he explained, with mock courtesy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,—I know,” responded Percival. “He comes of one of the + oldest and most highly connected families in Baltimore. He informs me that + his father—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind!” snapped the Captain. “We need not discuss Mr. Gray's + antecedents. How old are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Thirty last Friday, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Married?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Parents living?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And now, what the devil do you mean by sneaking aboard this ship and + hiding yourself in the—by the way, Mr. Mott, where was he hiding?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott: “It doesn't seem to be quite clear as yet, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger: “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott: “I say, it isn't quite clear. We have only his word for it. You + see, he wasn't discovered until he accosted Mr. Shannon on the bridge and + asked—” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger: “On the bridge, Mr. Mott?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott: “That is to say, sir, Mr. Shannon was on the bridge and he was + below on the promenade deck. He asked Mr. Shannon if he was the Captain of + the boat.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger: “He did, eh? Well?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott: “He was informed that you were at breakfast, sir,—no one + suspecting him of being a stowaway, of course,—and then, it appears, + he started out to look for you. That's how he fell in with the Chief + Engineer. Mr. Gray informs me that he applied for work, admitting that he + was aboard without leave, or passage, or funds, or anything else, it would + seem. But, as for where he lay in hiding, there hasn't been anything + definite arrived at as yet, sir. He seems to have been hiding in a rather + wide-spread sort of way.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival, amiably: “Permit me to explain, Captain Trigger. You see, I + have been obliged to change staterooms three times. Naturally, that might + be expected to create some little confusion in my mind. I began in the + second cabin. Much to my surprise and chagrin I found, too late, that the + stateroom I had chosen,—at random, I may say,—was merely in + the state of being prepared for a lady and gentleman who had asked to be + transferred from a less desirable one. I had some difficulty in getting + out of it without attracting attention. I don't know what I should have + done if the steward hadn't informed them that he could not move their + steamer-trunk until morning. There wouldn't have been room for both of us + under the berth, sir. If the gentleman had been alone I shouldn't have + minded in the least remaining, under his berth, but he—” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger: “How did you happen to get into that room, young man? The + doors are never unlocked when the rooms are unoccupied.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival: “You are mistaken, sir. I found at least three stateroom + doors unlocked that night, and my search was by no means extensive.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger: “This is most extraordinary, Mr. Mott,—if true.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott: “It shall be looked into, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger: “Go on, young man.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival: “I tried another room in the second cabin, but had to + abandon it also. It had no regular occupant,—it was Number 221 + remember,—but along about midnight two men opened the door with a + key and came in. They were stewards. I gathered that they were getting the + room ready for someone else, so when they departed,—very quietly, + sir,—I sneaked out and decided to try for accommodations in the + first cabin. I—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott: “Did you say stewards?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival: “That's what I took them to be.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger: “You are either lying, young man, or plumb crazy.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival, with dignity: “The latter is quite possible, Captain,—but + not the former. I managed quite easily to get from the second cabin to the + first. You'd be surprised to know how simple it was. Running without + lights as you do, sir, simplified things tremendously. I found a very sick + and dejected Jewish gentleman trying to die in the least exposed corner of + the promenade deck. At least, he said he didn't want to live. I offered to + put him to bed and to sit up with him all night if it would make him feel + a little less like passing away. He lurched at the chance. I accompanied + him to his stateroom, and so got a few much-needed hours of repose, + despite his groans. I also ate his breakfast for him. Skirmishing around + this morning, I found there were no unoccupied rooms in the first cabin, + so I decided that we were far enough from land for me to reveal myself to + the officer of the day,—if that's what you call 'em on board ship,—with + a very honest and laudable desire to work my passage home. I can only add, + Captain, that I am ready and willing to do anything from swabbing floors + on the upper deck to passing coal at the bottom of the ship.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger stared hard at the young man, a puzzled expression in his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You appear to be a gentleman,” he said at last. “Why are you on board + this ship as a stowaway? Don't you know that I can put you in irons, + confine you to the brig, and put you ashore at the first port of call?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir. That's just what I am trying to avoid. As a gentleman, I + am prepared to do everything in my power to relieve you of what must seem + a most painful official duty.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott smiled. The Captain stiffened perceptibly. + </p> + <p> + “How did you come aboard this ship?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “As a coal passer, sir. Day before yesterday, when you were getting in the + last lot of coal. I had a single five dollar gold piece in my pocket. It + did the trick. With that seemingly insignificant remnant of a comfortable + little fortune, I induced one of the native coal carriers,—a + Portuguese nobleman, I shall always call him,—to part with his + trousers, shirt and hat. I slipped 'em on over my own clothes, stuffed my + boots and socks inside my shirt, picked up his basket of coal, and walked + aboard. It isn't necessary, I suppose, to state that my career as a + dock-hand ceased with that solitary basket of coal, or that having once + put foot aboard the Doraine, I was in a position to book myself as a + passenger.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm damned!” said Captain Trigger. “Some one shall pay for this + carelessness, Mr. Mott. I've never heard of anything so cool. What did you + say your name is, young man?” + </p> + <p> + “A. A. Percival, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah—ahem! I see. Will it offend you, A. A., if I make so bold as to + inquire why the devil you neglected to book your passage in the regular + way, as any gentleman from Baltimore might have been expected to do, and + where is your passport, your certificate of health, your purse and your + discharge from prison?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival spread out his hands in a gesture of complete surrender. + </p> + <p> + “Would you be interested in my story, Captain Trigger? It is brief, but + edifying. When I arrived in town, the evening before you were to sail, I + had a wallet well-filled with gold, currency, and so forth. I had + travelled nearly two thousand miles,—from the foothills of the + Andes, to be more definite,—and I had my papers, my cancelled + contract, and a clear right-of-way, so to speak. My personal belongings + were supposed to have arrived in town on the train with me. A couple of + cow-hide trunks, in fact. Well, they didn't arrive. I don't know what + became of them. I had no time to investigate. This was the last boat I + could get for two or three weeks that would land me in the U. S. A. I put + up at the Alcazar Grand for the night. It was then too late to secure + passage, but I fully intended to do so the first thing in the morning. + There was a concert and dance at the hotel that night, and I went in to + look on for awhile. I ran across a friend, an engineer who was on the job + with me up in the hills a few months ago. He is also an American, a chap + from Providence, Rhode Island. Connected with the consular service now. He + was with a small party of Americans,—am I boring you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,—get on with it,” urged Captain Trigger. + </p> + <p> + “Several of them were sailing on this ship, and they were having a little + farewell party. That, however, has nothing to do with the case. I left + them at midnight and went up to my room. Now comes the part you will not + believe. During the night,—I sleep very soundly,—some one + entered my room, rifled my pockets, and got away with everything I + possessed, except my clothes and the five-dollar gold piece I have carried + ever since I left home,—as a lucky coin, you know. He—” + </p> + <p> + “How did he happen to overlook your lucky coin?” inquired the Captain + sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + “Because it couldn't be a lucky coin if I carried it in my purse. No coin + is ever lucky that gets into my purse, Captain. I always kept it tightly + sewed up in the band of my trousers, safe from the influence of evil + companions. I did not discover the loss until morning. It was then too + late to do anything, as you were sailing at eight. My Providence friend + was not available. I knew no one else. But I was determined to sail on the + Doraine. That's the story, sir, in brief. I leave it to you if I wasn't + justified in doing the best I could under the circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger was not as fierce as he looked. He could not keep the + twinkle out of his eye. + </p> + <p> + “We will see about that,” he managed to say with commendable gruffness. + “Assuming that your story is true, why are you in such a tremendous hurry + to reach the United States? Skipping out for some reason, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the young man slowly, “you see, news is a long time getting + out into the wilderness where I've been located for a couple of years. We + knew, of course, that there was a war on, but we didn't know how it was + progressing. Down here in this part of the world we have a war every two + or three months, and we've got so used to having 'em over within a week or + two that we just naturally don't pay much attention to them. We don't even + care who wins. But a couple of months ago we got word up there that the + United States had finally got into it with everybody under the sun, and + that the Germans were bound to win if we didn't get a couple of million + men across in pretty short order. I am thirty years old, Captain, strong + and healthy, and I'm a good American. That's why I want to get home. I've + told you the truth about being robbed. I don't mind losing the money,—only + a couple of thousand pesos, you know,—but if you chuck me off at the + next port of call, Captain Trigger, I'll curse you to my dying day. I'm + willing to work, I'm willing to be put in irons, I'm willing to get along + on bread and water, but you've just got to land me in the United States. + You are an Englishman. I suppose you've got relatives over in France + fighting the Germans. Maybe you've had some one killed who is dear to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “My youngest son was killed in Flanders,” said the Captain simply. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, sir. Well, for every Englishman and every Frenchman who has + died over there, my country ought to supply some one to take his place. I + expect to be one of those men, Captain. I have no other excuse for coming + aboard your ship as a stowaway.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain still eyed him narrowly. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you are honest, young man. If I am deceived in you I shall + never trust the eyes of another man as long as I live. Sit down, Mr. + Percival. I shall put you to work, never fear, but in the meantime I am + very much interested in what you were doing up in the hills. You will + oblige me by going as fully as possible into all the details. I shall not + pass judgment on you until I've heard all of your story.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + Algernon Adonis Percival, civil and mining engineer, Cornell, had gone + through certain rather harsh stages of development in the mines of Montana + and later in the perilous districts of Northern Mexico. A year or two + prior to the breaking out of the great World War, he was sent to South + America to replace the general superintendent of a new copper-mining + enterprise in a remote section of the Andes, on the Bolivian side of the + mountains. Here he was in charge of the heterogeneous horde of miners, + labourers, structural workers and assayists who were engaged in the + development and extension of the vast concession controlled by his + company. + </p> + <p> + His description of the camp or town in which this motley assemblage dwelt + from one year's end to the other, far from civilization, was illuminating + to the two sea-faring men. It must be confessed, however, that a sound + reluctance to swallow the tale without the proverbial grain of salt caused + them to watch closely for the slightest sign that might reveal to them the + always-to-be expected and seldom successful duplicity so common in those + harrowing days when all men were objects of suspicion. From time to time + they glanced inquiringly at each other, but the stranger's story was so + straightforward, so lacking in personal exploitation, so free from + unnecessary detail, that they were finally convinced that he was all that + he represented himself to be and that they had nothing to fear from him. + </p> + <p> + His long, hazardous journey by horse through the passes down into the + forests and jungles, out upon the endless, sparsely settled pampas, and + eventually into the remote village that witnessed the passing every second + day of a primitive and far from dependable railway train, was presented + with agreeable simplicity and conciseness. He passed briefly over what + might have been expanded into grave experiences, and at last came, so to + speak, to the gates of the city, unharmed, resolute and full of the fire + that knows no quenching. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” observed the Captain, still wary, “has it occurred to you we + may be justified in suspecting that you deserted your post up there in the + hills, and that you have betrayed the confidence of your employers?” + Percival had completed what he evidently believed to be a full and + satisfactory account of himself. + </p> + <p> + “I was in full charge up there, Captain Trigger. My contract had but a + month more to run. I appointed my own successor, and the company will not + be any the worse off for the change. My letter to headquarters, announcing + my decision not to renew the contract, went forward two weeks before I + left the camp. I merely anticipated the actual termination of my contract + by a month or so, and as I handed my resignation at once to my own newly + appointed superintendent, I submit that I acted in absolute good faith. I + may say that he accepted it without a word of protest, sir. As a matter of + fact, I told him in advance that I wouldn't appoint him unless he agreed + to accept my resignation.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain smiled at this ingenuous explanation. + </p> + <p> + “I daresay I ought to put you under guard, Mr. Percival,” he said. “My + duty is very plain. A stowaway is a stowaway, no matter how you look at + him. The regulations do not leave me any choice. Maritime justice is + rarely tempered by mercy. However, under the circumstances, I am inclined + to accept your word of honour that you will not violate your parole if I + refrain from putting you in irons. Have I your word of honour that you + will not leave this ship until I hand you over to the proper authorities + in the United States?” + </p> + <p> + “You have, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a very head-strong, ambitious young man. You will not jump + overboard and try to beat us into port under your own steam?” + </p> + <p> + “You may trust me, sir, never to give up the ship.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will kill as many Germans as possible?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said A. A. Percival submissively. + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger arose and extended his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I've never done anything like this before in all my years as ship's + master. You ought to be flogged and stowed away in the brig until you show + a properly subdued spirit, young man. I suppose you've heard of the + cat-o'-nine-tails?” + </p> + <p> + “My reading up to the age of fifteen was confined almost exclusively to + the genteel histories of pirates, buccaneers and privateersmen, Captain + Trigger,” announced A. A. Percival, taking the master's hand in a firm + grip. “I wonder if you know what a black-snake whip is, or a cattle-adder? + Well, they're both painful and convincing. As director of morals in the + camp I have just left behind me, it was my official duty on frequent + occasions to see to it that current offenders had from fifteen to fifty + applications of the black-snake in a public sort of way. The black-snake, + I may explain, could be wielded by a strong but unskilled arm. It was + different, however, with the cattle-adder. That had to be handled by an + expert, one who could stand off twenty paces, more or less, and crack the + long lash with such astonishing precision that the tip end of it barely + touched the back of the culprit, the result being a nobby assortment of + splotches that looked for all the world like hives after the blood got + back into them again. You see, I was chief magistrate, executioner + ex-officio, chief of police, jury commissioner—in fact, an + all-around potentate. Sort of Pooh-bah, you know. For serious offences, + such as wife beating, wife stealing, or having more than one wife at a + time, we were not so lenient. The offender, on conviction, was strung up + by the thumbs and used as a target by amateurs who desired to become + proficient in the use of the cattle-adder. Murderers were attended to a + trifle more expeditiously. They were strung up by the neck.” + </p> + <p> + “Good God, man,—do you mean to say you hung men in that off-hand + fashion?” cried Captain Trigger, aghast. + </p> + <p> + “Not without a fair trial, sir. No innocent man was ever hung. There was + no such thing as circumstantial evidence in that camp. The guilty man was + always taken red-handed. We had good laws and they were rigidly enforced. + There was no other way, sir. Short, sharp and decisive. It's the best way. + Men understand that sort of thing and honest men approve of the method. + You see, gentlemen, we had a hard lot of characters to deal with. I wish + to add, however, that before I had been up there six months we had a + singularly law-abiding and self-respecting camp. Crime was not tolerated, + not even by the men who had once been criminals. If two men quarrelled, + they were allowed to fight it out fairly and squarely in any way they + could agree upon. Knives, hatchets and all other messy weapons were + barred. It was either fists, pistols or rifles at a fairly long range, and + under the strictest rules. Duels were fought according to Hoyle, and were + witnessed by practically every one in camp. You will perceive that + Copperhead Camp was no place for a coward or a bluffer or a bully. It + takes a brave man to fight a duel with a chap who may be only half as big + as he is, but who can shoot like the devil. So you see, Captain Trigger, + the cat-o'-nine-tails has no terror for me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott regarded the young man with wide-open, somewhat incredulous eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You don't look like a fire-eating, swashbuckling party to me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I am the most peaceable chap you've ever seen, Mr. Mott. You needn't be + alarmed. I'm not going to bite a hole in the ship and scuttle her. + Moreover, I am a very meek and lowly individual on board this ship. + There's a lot of difference between being in supreme command with all + kinds of authority to bolster you up and being a rat in a trap as I am + now. Up in Copperhead Camp I was a nabob, here I'm a nobody. Up there I + was the absolute boss of five or six hundred men,—I won't say I + could boss the women,—and I made 'em all walk chalk without once + losing step. There were murderers and crooks, blacklegs and gunmen in my + genial aggregation, men whose true names we never knew, men who were + wanted in every part of the civilized world. The only place on earth, I + suppose, where they could feel reasonably at home was in that gosh-awful + nowhere that we called Copperhead Camp. You can't handle such men with + mittens. And there were good men there as well,—good, strong, + righteous men. They were the leaven that made the whole thing palatable. + Without them I could have had no authority. But I dare say I am boring + you. The present situation is the one we're interested in, not the lordly + past of your humble and, I trust, obedient servant.” + </p> + <p> + His smile was most engaging, but back of it the two seamen read strength, + decision, integrity. The gay, bantering, whilom attitude of this unusual + young man was not assumed. It was not a pose. He was not a dare-devil, nor + was he a care-free, unstable youth who had matured abruptly in the + exercise of power. On the contrary, he was,—and Captain Trigger knew + it,—the personification of confidence, an optimist to whom victory + and defeat are equally unavoidable and therefore to be reckoned as one in + the vast scheme of human endeavour; a fighter who merely rests on his arms + but never lays them down; a spirit that absorbs the bitters and the sweets + of life with equal relish. + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger was not slow in making up his mind. This clean-minded, + clean-bodied American with the confident though respectful smile, was a + chap after his own heart. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know what to do with you, Percival,” he said, a scowl of genuine + perplexity in his eyes. “You are not an ordinary transgressor. You are a + gentleman. You have exercised an authority perhaps somewhat similar to my + own,—possibly in some respects your position up there was even more + autocratic, if I may use the term. I am not unconscious of all this, and + yet I have no choice other than that designated by law. The regulations + are unalterable. It is a matter of morale, pure and simple. We are + compelled to treat all stowaways alike. Of course, I shall not subject you + to the ordinary—shall we say methods of—” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Captain,” broke in the young man, his smile no longer in + evidence; “I am asking no favours. I expect to be treated as an ordinary + stowaway. Set me to work at anything you like and I will make as good a + job of it as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “I was about to suggest that you serve as a sort of assistant to Mr. + Codge, the purser. I've no doubt he could find something for you to do and—” + </p> + <p> + “If that is your way of punishing me, Captain Trigger, of course there is + nothing for me to do but to submit.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? I am sure you will not find Mr. Codge a hard taskmaster. He is quite + a good-natured man.” + </p> + <p> + “Extremely kind and considerate,” hastily added Mr. Mott, reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “But I don't want to loaf my passage home,” protested Percival. “I want to + be sentenced to the hardest sort of labour, if you don't mind. I don't + want to owe this steamship company a penny when I step ashore. It is your + duty, sir, as master of this ship, to put me on the meanest job you've + got.” + </p> + <p> + “My word!” exclaimed Captain Trigger. + </p> + <p> + “I'm blessed!” said Mr. Mott. + </p> + <p> + “Up where I've been running things and cock-walking like a foreman in a + shirt-waist factory, I made the rules and I enforced them. I want to say + to you that no favours were shown. If the Prince of Wales had drifted in + there, dead broke, and asked for something to eat, he would have got it, + but you bet your life he'd have had to work for it. A tramp's a tramp, no + matter how much purple he's been used to, and you can say the same for a + stowaway. What's the matter with me taking the place of one of those + deck-hands, or whatever you call 'em, you lost last night?” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “Swabbers, maybe you call 'em. Men that mop up the decks after everybody + else has turned in.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about?” demanded the Captain, sitting up very + straight. Percival stared at him in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you knew about it, of course. Good Lord, sir, don't you know + that a couple of your men jumped overboard last night,—or early this + morning, rather? Just as the ship was rounding that big headland—” + </p> + <p> + “Good God, man, are you in earnest?” cried Mr. Mott, starting toward the + door. + </p> + <p> + “I certainly am. I took them for deserters, of course,—not suicides, + because they didn't forget to put on life preservers before they jumped. I + haven't a doubt they were picked up, so there's no use worrying. A minute + or two after they went over,—from the bottom deck or whatever you + call it,—I heard a motor boat popping away like a gatling-gun not + far,—” + </p> + <p> + But he was alone. Captain Trigger had dashed out of the cabin in the wake + of the First Officer. + </p> + <p> + Algernon Adonis Percival stared blankly at the open door. + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord, why all this excitement over a couple of bums?” he said, + addressing space. “If they were working for me, I'd thank the Lord to be + rid of 'em so cheaply. They—Hello!” + </p> + <p> + The Second Officer popped into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Come along with me,” he snapped. “Lively, now. Just where and when did + you see a couple of men go overboard? Quietly, now. We don't want to alarm + the passengers.” + </p> + <p> + Within five minutes after Percival's disturbing report, the officers of + the Doraine, with set faces, were employed in a swift but silent + investigation. Before many more minutes had passed, at least a portion of + the stowaway's story had been verified. Two men were found to be missing, + although, strange to say, they had not been missed up to the time that + noses were counted. They were down on the ship's roster as Norwegians, New + York registry, and had come down with the Doraine on her trip from the + north. + </p> + <p> + Percival repeated his story, but had little to add in the way of detail. + He had stolen on deck some time after midnight for a breath of air, + risking detection, and from the shelter of a secluded corner well aft had + heard the two men swabbing the deck below. Suddenly they ceased work, and + he prepared to creep back to a place of safety, concluding that they were + on their way to the upper deck. + </p> + <p> + He went to the rail to listen. The two men were almost directly below him, + and he could see the upper portions of their figures as they leaned far + out over the rail, apparently looking into the swirling waters below. + Quite distinctly he heard one of them say, in English: “We got to do it + now or never.” The other mumbled something he could not distinguish. He + was only mildly interested, not anticipating what was to follow. For a few + seconds he heard them scrambling and puffing and then he saw them quite + plainly on the rail, their figures bulky with what he identified as life + buoys, a faint light from somewhere falling directly upon the + grayish-white objects in which they were swathed. + </p> + <p> + One of them uttered the word “Now!” and to his amazement they shot out, as + one man, into the black-ness below. There was a single splash. For a + moment or two he stood spell-bound. Then he heard some one running along + the deck below. Convinced that the incident had been witnessed by others, + he darted into the companion-way and made his way back to the stateroom of + the sick passenger. Through the lightless porthole he listened for the + terrifying shout, “Man overboard!” It did not come, but his ear caught the + staccato beat of a motor near by, striking up abruptly out of the swish of + rushing waters. In his ignorance, he decided that it was a boat from the + ship going to the rescue of the daring deserters, and calmly waited for + the engines of the mighty Doraine to cease their rhythmic pulsing. He fell + asleep. + </p> + <p> + When he awoke, he concluded that he had dreamed the whole thing. This + conclusion was justified when he asked his wretched “bunkie” if he had + observed him leaving the room during the night. The answer was a mournful + negative, followed by the sufferer's more or less positive declaration + that he was staring wide awake the whole damned night long. + </p> + <p> + Percival, unconvinced, boldly made his way to the lower deck and + discovered that two life buoys were missing from their supports, a + circumstance that put an end to the hope that he had dreamed it all. His + own affairs however now loomed large, taking precedence over the plight of + the men who had deliberately abandoned the ship. In any case, the ship's + officers had done everything that could be done in the matter. He was + genuinely astonished to learn that the act of the two men was unknown to + the Captain. + </p> + <p> + A hurried conference of the ship's officers and the commander of the + gun-crew resulted in a single but definite conclusion. The desperate, even + suicidal manner in which the men left the ship signified but one thing: + the absolute necessity of flight before an even more sinister peril + confronted them. Not a man on board doubted for an instant that they had + taken their chance in the waters as a part of a preconceived plan, and + they had taken it with all the devilish hardihood of fanatics. + </p> + <p> + The presence of the motor craft, so far out from port, lurking with silent + engine in the path of the steamship, could have but one significance. It + represented one of the carefully thought-out details in a stupendous, + far-reaching plot. + </p> + <p> + If there were signals between the motor boat and the two men aboard the + steamship, they were not observed by the lookouts. In all probability no + signals were given. The little craft was to be at a certain place at a + certain hour,—and she was there! The men who jumped knew that she + would be there. A black, tiny speck on the broad expanse of water, + sheltered by a night of almost stygian darkness, she lay outside the + narrow radius to which visual observation was confined, patiently waiting + for the Doraine to pass a designated point. There was to be no + miscalculation on the part of either the boat or the men who went over the + side of the big steamship into the seething waters. + </p> + <p> + The closest inquiry among the members of the crew failed to reveal any one + who had witnessed the leap of the men. Percival was positive, however, + that some one ran along the lower deck, but whether toward or away from + the spot where the men went over he had no means of knowing. He offered + the suggestion that there were three persons actually involved, and that + one of them, more than likely the victim of a coin-flipping decision, had + remained on board to complete the work the trio had been chosen to + perform, even though death was to be his lot. + </p> + <p> + The Second Officer had been regarding Percival with ever-growing + suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything to prove, young man, that you are not the one who + stayed behind to complete the job?” he demanded at last. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Percival promptly, and somewhat scathingly, “nothing at + all, except the trifling fact that I am here talking it over with you + gentlemen instead of attending to my business, as any honest conspirator + should be doing. You may be quite sure of one thing: if there is a man on + board this ship whose business it is to finish the job, he isn't idle. + He's getting on with the job at this minute, gentlemen. If you'll take my + advice you will institute two investigations. First, search the ship from + stem to stern, from keel to bridge, for bombs or infernal machines. + Second, ask your rich passengers if they have lost anything in the shape + of pearls, diamonds, coin of the realm, or anything else worth jumping + into the ocean for.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger looked at him over the top of his eye-glasses. + </p> + <p> + “You are not in Copperhead Camp at present, Mr. Percival,” he said + stiffly. + </p> + <p> + The young man flushed. “I beg your pardon, Captain Trigger,” he said + simply. + </p> + <p> + “All you have to do,” said the Second Officer, fixing him with an inimical + eye, “is to answer questions and not to tell us how to run this ship.” + </p> + <p> + Percival did his best to hold back the retort, but, failing, released it + with considerable sharpness: + </p> + <p> + “Well, if I was running this ship I'd head her for shore pretty damned + quick.” + </p> + <p> + The American in command of the gun-crew was the only one who smiled, and + he did it openly. Captain Trigger's face darkened redly. + </p> + <p> + “Take this man in charge, Mr. Shannon. He wants work. Give it him. Under + guard.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I suspected, Captain Trigger, of being in league—” + </p> + <p> + “Every man, every woman on board this ship is suspected,” said the Captain + with decision. “Every one, sir, from myself down. The rest of us grasp + that fact, even if you do not.” + </p> + <p> + And so it was that while Algernon Adonis Percival, under the watchful eye + of a burly seaman, fell to work scraping the scuppers on the boat deck, + the stern business of searching the ship went forward with a thoroughness + that left no room for doubt as to the fears and apprehensions of the men + who had her in charge. Despite the fact that intensive, anxious hours of + delving revealed no hidden, sinister agent of destruction, there was no + relaxation on the part of the officers and crew. One by one the passengers + were examined; their rooms and their luggage were systematically + overhauled. No one resented these drastic operations, for by midday the + whole ship's company knew what had transpired during the night. Eagerly + they answered the questions, cheerfully they submitted to the examination + of their effects, and then fell silent and subdued, oppressed by the + suspense that hung over the ship like a cloud. Crew and passengers alike + underwent the most rigid questioning, the high and the low, the rich and + the poor, the young and the old. + </p> + <p> + Early that morning, in fact some time prior to the time that Percival told + his story, the wireless operator reported that his transmitter was out of + order. While he was satisfied that the apparatus had not been tampered + with, he was plainly affected by the rather grim coincidence. He was an + old and trusted man in the service, competent, efficient and loyal. + </p> + <p> + His assistant, the night operator, however, had made less than half a + dozen voyages on the Doraine. He was an Englishman, a cripple; twice he + had been rescued after vessels on which he sailed were sent to the bottom + by German submarines. His credentials were flawless. He was on duty during + the night just past, and had picked up several indistinct, incomplete + radio messages. There was nothing wrong with the receiving or transmitting + apparatus when he went off duty at six in the morning, and as his superior + came on at the same hour,—they exchanged greetings at the door of + the wireless house,—it was absolutely impossible for any one to have + entered the well-guarded room without attracting attention. Cruise, the + chief radio-man, had his assistant routed out of bed and together they + worked like beavers over the disabled mechanism. + </p> + <p> + Hour after hour, the nervous, uneasy passengers paced the decks. Few + remained indoors, and few possessed the calmness to loll in deck-chairs. + </p> + <p> + Percival toiled cheerfully, but with eye and ear alert for the first + inkling of definite peril. With commendable thoughtfulness, he had shed + the clean white shirt and collar so generously supplied by his fellow + townsman, and had donned a commodious sea-jacket. + </p> + <p> + He could not help observing the dark, suspicious glances cast upon him by + the deck-walkers, nor were his ears proof against audible comments. + Mothers nudged their children and said, in slightly lowered but distinctly + impressive tones: + </p> + <p> + “That's the man. He's a stowaway.” + </p> + <p> + “See, Wilfred,—see the man? No, no! The one with the mop, dear. + Don't go near him.” + </p> + <p> + “What a dreadful looking creature he is.” + </p> + <p> + “The Captain captured him this morning away down in the bottom of the + ship. He was stealing a ride.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow! He doesn't look like a bad man, does he?” + </p> + <p> + And so on and so forth, as the day went along. + </p> + <p> + Masculine strollers had very decided opinions about him. Mr. Landover, the + banker, stopped to discuss the toiling menial with Mr. Nicklestick, Mr. + Block and Mr. Fitts. + </p> + <p> + “He ought to be in irons,” said Mr. Landover, glowering at Percival. + “That's what I told the Captain a little while ago. He's a bad egg, that + fellow is. I'm a pretty good judge of men, gentlemen, and I don't often + make mistakes. That fellow is a fugitive from justice, if he isn't + something worse. Observe the cut of his mouth—ah! see that? What did + I tell you? Did you ever see a more evil grin?” + </p> + <p> + “Take it from me,” said Mr. Nicklestick, “that guy knows a good deal more + about what is going on aboard this ship than he lets on. He ain't as + simple as he looks. I told Captain Trigger just now that he ought to give + him a dose of the third degree. That's the way to get to the bottom of + this business. String him up by the thumbs till he squeals. What say, Mr. + Fitts?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fitts, the architect, was a mild man. + </p> + <p> + “He strikes me as a rather honest looking sort of chap,” he said, and was + promptly glared at by his companions. “Of course,” he hastened to add, “I + am not saying that he is all right. He may be as crooked as the deuce. I'm + only saying he's got a rather pleasing sort of face.” + </p> + <p> + “The most innocent, open-faced young fellow we ever had in the bank,” said + Mr. Landover, “turned out to be the damnedest rascal I've ever + encountered.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you happen to have him in the bank if you are such a good judge + of men?” inquired Mr. Fitts, utterly without malice. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Landover reddened. “My dear sir, I do not come in contact with every + employe of the bank. You forget that it is quite an immense institution.” + </p> + <p> + “It sure is,” said Mr. Nicklestick. “I'm thinking of transferring our + account to your bank, Mr. Landover. We've been banking with—” + </p> + <p> + “I vas telling my vife at lunch,” broke in Mr. Block, twitching his + Hebraic nose emphatically,—“not that we could eat any lunch, by + gracious, no!—I vas telling her I bet my boots dere ain't enough + life-boats to get as much as half of us off safe in case something + happens. I counted up all the life-boats I could see, and ven I estimate + the number of peoples on board, w'y, by gracious, the loss of life vould + be frightful, gentlemen. The only chance we would haf would be for + approxi-madely fifty percent of the peoples on board to be killed outright + by the explosion.” + </p> + <p> + “I hear there is a detective from Chicago on board, with a prisoner,” + ventured Mr. Fitts. “Why doesn't the Captain ask him to have a look at + this stowaway fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “What would be the good of that?” demanded Mr. Landover. “I never saw a + detective in my life that knew what to do in an emergency. Soon as you get + one of them where he can't telephone in to headquarters for instructions + he's as helpless as a baby. Don't talk to me about detectives. Why, this + fellow would simply laugh in his face.” + </p> + <p> + “Just, as he is laughing in yours at this moment, Mr. Landover,” pursued + Mr. Fitts pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “The damned rascal,” said Mr. Landover, and stalked away. + </p> + <p> + “There goes one of the biggest figures in the United States,” said Mr. + Nicklestick, looking after the banker. His remark was addressed to Mr. + Fitts. “I wish I had his brains.” + </p> + <p> + “Dey vouldn't do you any good, Nicklestick,” said Mr. Block, “unless you + had his money too also.” + </p> + <p> + “If I had his brains,” said Mr. Nicklestick, “he wouldn't have his money, + so what's the difference?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Block looked uneasily out over the tumbling ocean, focusing his gaze + on a section of the horizon that for want of something more definite than + mere hope lay in a direct line with the City of New York. + </p> + <p> + “And ven you stop to think,” said he wistfully, “that we are still + something like six thousand miles from home,—oh, veil! Vat's the + use? I bet you I never go so far avay from my business again. Vat a fool I + vas to make this trip ven the whole ocean is full of submarines and German + agents and plotters and—Yes, vat a fool ven I had so many + high-priced men vorking for me who vas crazy to come. But my vife she + vould do it. Paris and London every year it used to be, so she must haf a + little holiday or she vill die, she say. Veil, here we are. And ven I + think vat a long holiday it is going to be maybe,—by gracious, I + could kick myself for not giving in to my brother-in-law ven he begged so + hard to be allowed to make the trip because he needed the change from not + being avay from the office for five years, and his vife and children too. + His vife she needed a change as much as he, vat with not being able to get + into any good hotels in the summer time and not being able to keep out of + them in the vinter time, she vas nearly distracted. No, I vas selfish. My + vife she vas selfish too,—and him her own brother. Vy shouldn't he + haf a vacation vonce in awhile?” + </p> + <p> + He turned abruptly to the sailor who lounged near the perspiring Percival. + </p> + <p> + “How far is it to land, my frient?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + The sailor touched his cap. “Which way, sir?” he asked solemnly. “Fore or + aft?” + </p> + <p> + (Percival said to himself: “By golly, I'll bet that man is an American.”) + </p> + <p> + “Vat? Land,—you know vat I mean,—the end of the ocean. How far + avay is it?” + </p> + <p> + The sailor calculated. “Well, the nearest land, sir, I should say, is + about three hundred miles away, to port.” + </p> + <p> + “How deep is it here?” asked Mr. Nicklestick, moving away from the rail + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + The sailor glanced down at the water, squinted an eye, and then spoke + reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't half as deep here as it is a little furder on,” he said. “It's + only a shade over three miles where we are now, sir. We're comin' to the + deepest part of the ocean,—ought to be there inside of a couple of + hours. Here, you! On the job, on the job!” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to search that man carefully,” advised Mr. Nicklestick. + </p> + <p> + “I have,” growled the sailor. “He says he never uses it in that form. I + guess he's tellin' the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Never uses what?” + </p> + <p> + “Tobacco, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Mr. Nicklestick, and, catching a glimpse of Madame Obosky + emerging upon the deck, unceremoniously deserted his companions and + hurried off to join her, his speed being suddenly accelerated by the + spectacle of Mr. Shine, the motion picture magnate, who approached the + lady from an equidistant station and with similar haste. Mr. Block, being + a trifle near-sighted and in some doubt as to the whereabouts of his wife, + peered here and there intently, and then bore down upon the celebrated + Russian dancer, who, it would seem, was in dire need of consolation. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fitts followed them with a glance over his glasses and then turned to + the sailor man. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it's against orders for me to speak to this man,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The architect sighed, and walked away. + </p> + <p> + The parade became more interesting as the lack of news from the + investigators restored a sort of hopeful optimism to the breasts of the + anxious company. Those who had maintained a stubborn air of bravado, now + became almost offensively jaunty. Others, frankly terrified at the outset, + sauntered timidly away from the life-boats to which they were assigned. + Every one was glad that the Captain had ordered a life-boat drill on the + first afternoon out, and every one was glad that he had ignored the demand + of Mr. Landover that the boats be lowered the instant he discovered that + his passengers were in peril. No news was good news, argued the majority, + and jesting was in order. + </p> + <p> + Peter Snipe, the novelist, got out a pad of paper and began jotting down + impressions. Madam Careni-Amori and Signor Joseppi exchanged the first + friendly words they had spoken to each other in weeks, and in full view of + an entranced audience linked arms and strode bravely to and fro, the + former clasping a huge jewel case to her ample bosom, the latter chafing + perceptibly under the weight of an invisible belt stuffed to its capacity + with banknotes and gold. Chilean ladies and Chilean gentlemen, dazzling + Brazilian ladies and pompous Brazilian gentlemen, smug Argentinians, + lordly Castilians, garrulous Portuguese, lofty English gentlemen and + supercilious English ladies, friendly and irrepressible Americans,—all + of them swinging their sea-legs with new-found abandon—clattered + solidly around the wind-swept circuit. New faces appeared in the + procession, new voices were raised with energy, new figures sprang into + existence with marvellous rapidity. It seemed to Percival that the + population doubled and tripled and quadrupled with every throb of the + powerful engines. He saw his “bunkie” of the night before,—the man + who was trying so hard to die and couldn't,—he saw him plunging + along with the throng, pale but valiant, ferociously glaring at every one + who smoked. + </p> + <p> + A small group of American nurses, some young and pretty, others young and + homely, but all of them sprightly and clear-eyed,—nine of them, in + fact—tramped by in “columns of three.” + </p> + <p> + Percival's guardian jerked his head in their direction after they had + passed, and volunteered this bit of information: + </p> + <p> + “Hornswoggled, them girls was. Come all the way down from New York six + months ago. Promised double pay and plenty of work in the American colony. + Sore as crabs, all of 'em. They got double pay all right, all right, but + there was some misunderstandin' as to what single pay was to be to start + off with. Single pay turned out to be just whatever suited the people that + employed 'em, seein's they were nearly seven thousand miles away from God + and up against it, so they're beatin' it back home to volunteer for + service in France. I heard one of 'em say she could save more money + workin' for nothin' in France than she could earn in a year down here at + double pay. What'd you say your name was, young feller?” + </p> + <p> + “Percival.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean your last name.” + </p> + <p> + “That's it.” + </p> + <p> + “Come off! Nobody ever had a last name like that.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to hear what my first name is,—and my middle one, too. + You said a little while ago you'd never seen any one of my size with + bigger and harder muscles. Well, if you knew what my full name is, old + man, you'd understand why I began developing them,—I've got a lot + more too that you can't see,—when I first began going to school.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your other names?” inquired the sailor curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Algernon Adonis,” said Percival. + </p> + <p> + The sailor was silent for a moment, thinking of the proper thing to say. + Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “You're dead right. It takes a heap of muscle to pertect a name like + that.” + </p> + <p> + Three women stopped in front of the two men. Percival kept his eyes + lowered. + </p> + <p> + “Why,—why, Auntie,—I know him,” fell from the lips of one of + the trio. There was not only surprise in her voice but a trace of awe as + well. + </p> + <p> + The swabber looked up quickly. He found himself gazing straight into the + eyes of the speaker. Her lips were parted, her head was bent slightly + forward, her eyes expressed utter incredulity and bewilderment. Her + companion, an elderly lady, and a bespectacled young woman who carried an + arm-load of steamer-rugs, stared not at him but at the girl who had + delivered this startling announcement. + </p> + <p> + “I mean I,—that is, I may be mistaken,” stammered the latter, + suddenly averting her eyes. A wave of crimson swept over her face. + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly,” exclaimed the elderly lady with great positiveness. Turning + to inspect the object under discussion, she sustained a shock that caused + her to stiffen and draw in her breath quickly. + </p> + <p> + Percival was smiling in a most friendly and encouraging manner. He went + farther, and lifted his disreputable white canvas hat. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, goodness!” exclaimed the young lady in a sort of panic. “Are you—is + it really you, Mr. Percival?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival glanced inquiringly at his guard. + </p> + <p> + “That's his name, Miss,” said that worthy. “And that's one of the three + reasons why he's got them muscular arms you're lookin' at. Sorry, though, + but my orders are not to allow any one to speak to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you crazy, Ruth?” cried the older lady, aghast. “It's the stowaway + every one is talking about. The one who tried to blow up the ship.” + </p> + <p> + The young lady returned Percival's smile,—rather a diffident, + uncertain effort, to be sure, but still a smile,—and murmured + something about night before last at the Alcazar Grand. + </p> + <p> + “What are you saying, Ruth? Do you mean to say you met this man at the + Alcazar Grand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Aunt Julia,” said the other wrinkling her pretty forehead in + perplexity. “He—he danced with me.” + </p> + <p> + “He—you danced with him?” gasped the horrified Aunt Julia. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you remember? Phil Morton introduced him to us. I—I can't + believe my eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't believe mine,” snapped the elder woman. “I never saw this fellow + before in my life. The idea! Phil Morton having a friend like—You + are mistaken. And people are staring at us.” + </p> + <p> + “Just the same,” said her niece, stubbornly, “I did dance with him, and, + what's more, I danced more than once with him. Didn't I, Mr. Percival?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival, still beaming, again looked at the sailor appealingly. + </p> + <p> + “You can tell it to me,” said the latter, furtively glancing to the right + and left before making the concession. + </p> + <p> + Looking straight into the sailor's eyes, Percival said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Clinton. I had four dances with you,—and a lemon squash.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment, Aunt Julia,” protested the young lady, holding back. + “Would you mind telling me, Mr. Percival, how you happen to be here and in + this plight? You didn't mention sailing on the Doraine.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival, to the sailor: “Neither did you, Miss Clinton. You certainly + are no more surprised than I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Why are you on board as a stowaway? Phil Morton told me you belong to an + old Baltimore family and had all kinds of—that is, you were quite + well-off.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Percival, to the sailor: “Please don't blush, Miss Clinton. I'm not + the least bit sensitive. Money isn't everything. I seem to be able to get + along without it. Later on, I hope to have the opportunity to explain just + why—” + </p> + <p> + “That'll do,” interrupted the sailor. “Here comes the Captain.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger hove in sight around the corner of the deck building, with + Chief Engineer Gray and the Second Officer. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what to make of you,” said Miss Clinton, sorely puzzled. Her + aunt was clutching her arm. “You seemed so awfully jolly the other night. + And—and just look at you now.” + </p> + <p> + She moved away, followed by the bespectacled young woman and the + steamer-rugs, graceful despite the sudden yank with which her aunt set her + in motion. Percival managed to keep an eye on her till she turned the + corner. Then he sighed. + </p> + <p> + The Captain halted in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “Are you acquainted with Mrs. Spofford and her niece, Percival?” he + inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Clinton has done me the honour to remember meeting me night before + last at the Alcazar Grand, sir. Mrs. Spofford is not so generous.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Captain Trigger reflectively. “You will report at once to + Mr. Gray. He will give you a less public job, as you call it.” A twinkle + came into his eyes. “He doesn't like the hat you're wearing. Nor the + shirt. Nor the boots.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And, by the way, Percival, as soon as you are slightly refurbished I want + you to stroll through the second cabin and if possible identify the two + stewards who came to No. 22. Let me see, was it during the day or at + night?” + </p> + <p> + “Some time during the night, sir. Eleven or half-past, I should say.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + An hour later he reported to Captain Trigger. “I have seen all of the + stewards, sir, according to Mr. Codge, and I do not recognize any of them + as the men who came to No. 22. I had a fairly good view of them, too, from + beneath the lower berth. They spoke in a language I did not understand—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you understand German?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. I know it when I hear it, however. They were not speaking + German. I may have been wrong, but I came to the conclusion that they were + transferring some one to No. 22. They brought in two suitcases, and left + them when they went out. I—” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger brought his clenched fist down on the table with a + resounding, emphatic bang. + </p> + <p> + “Now, we have it! That Chicago detective is right, by gad!” + </p> + <p> + He turned to the small group of officers clustered behind him. Fresh + alarm,—real consternation,—had leaped into the eyes of every + man of them. + </p> + <p> + “Then—then, that means our search isn't over?” cried Mr. Mott, + starting up. + </p> + <p> + “It does! Every inch of this ship,—every damned inch of it, from + stem to stern. Overlook nothing, Mr. Mott. Don't delay a second.” + </p> + <p> + Percival was alone with the agitated Captain an instant later. Trigger's + eyes were rather wild and bloodshot. The younger man's face blanched. He + knew now that the danger was real. He waited for the Captain to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Percival, the two men you saw in 22 were not stewards. They were the men + who jumped overboard. You tell me they left two bags there when they went + out of the room. Well, they were not there this morning when the regular + steward went into the room. They have disappeared. But the contents of + those bags are still somewhere on board this ship. And if they are not + found in time, by gad, sir, we will all be in Kingdom Come before we know + it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + The first explosion occurred at eleven minutes past six. The chart-house + and part of the bridge were blown to pieces. Three dull, splintering + crashes ensued in rapid succession, proving beyond question that the bombs + were set to automatically explode at a given time. One of them wrecked the + engine-room; another blew a great hole in the stern of the ship, above the + water line; the third destroyed the wireless house and carried away a + portion of the deck with it. + </p> + <p> + There were eight in all of these devilish machines in the heart of the + Doraine. Some time prior to the first explosion, the feverish searchers + had uncovered four of them, cunningly planted in the most vital parts of + the ship. Two were taken from the lower hold, one at each end of the + vessel, and two more were found close to the carefully protected section + of the vessel in which a rather insignificant but deadly shipment of high + explosives was stored. + </p> + <p> + The discovery of the four bombs and their immediate consignment to the sea + saved the ship from being blown to bits. With another hour to spare, it is + more than probable the remaining four would have been found, + notwithstanding the amazing cleverness with which they were hidden, so + thorough and so dogged was the search. Confusion, terror, stupefaction and + finally panic followed the successive blasts. The decks were strewn with + people prostrated by the violent upheavals, and many there were who never + got up again. Stunned, dazed, bewildered, those who were able to do so + scrambled to their feet only to be hurled down again and again. Shrieks, + groans, prayers,—and curses,—filled the brief, ghastly + silences between the muffled detonations. The great vessel surged and + rolled and plunged like a tortured animal. + </p> + <p> + The splintering of wood, the rending of plates, the shattering of glass, + and above all this horrid turmoil the mighty roaring and hissing of + steam!... And the wild, gurgling cries of the frantic unfortunates who had + leaped into the sea! + </p> + <p> + Out of the chaos with incredible swiftness came the paralysis of despair, + and out of that slowly but surely groped the never-failing courage of the + men who go down to the sea in ships. Hoarse commands lifted above the + groans and prayers, and strong but shaken figures sprang with mechanical + precision to the posts allotted them. Life-boat after life-boat went down + into the sea that glistened with the slanting rays of an untroubled sun, + low-lying at the end of day. + </p> + <p> + Fire broke out in several places. Down into the bowels of the ship plunged + the resolute, undaunted heroes who remained behind, the chosen complement + reserved for just such an emergency by the far-seeing master. + </p> + <p> + Above the hissing of steam and the first feeble cracklings of flame, rose + the stentorian voice of the Captain from his post at the base of the + demolished bridge. + </p> + <p> + “Fight, men! Fight! Fight! There are dying men below! Stand by! Fight for + them!” + </p> + <p> + He was bloody and almost unrecognizable as he stood there clutching a + stanchion for support. His legs were rigid, his body swayed, but his + spirit was as staunch as the star that had guided him for fifty years + through the trackless waste. + </p> + <p> + And while these doughty, desperate spirits fought the fire and smoke with + every means at their command, down in the suffocating depths of the ship, + braving not only the peril visible and at hand, but the prospect of + annihilation in the event that a belated bomb projected its hideous force + into the nest of high explosives,—while these men fought, the + smiling, placid sea was alive with small white craft that bobbed in the + gleaming sunlight, life-boats crowded to the gunwales with shuddering, + bleak-eyed men, women and children waiting to pick up those who stayed + behind, and who inevitably would be driven overboard by the resistless, + conquering flames. + </p> + <p> + Cruising about at a safe distance from the menacing hull, these boats + managed to rescue a few of the beings who had leaped overboard in the + first mad panic of fear, but many there were who went down never to be + seen again. No boat was without its wounded—and its dead; no boat + was without its stricken, anxious-eyed survivors who watched and prayed + for the salvation of loved ones left behind. With straining eyes they + searched the surface of the sea, peered at the occupants of near and + distant boats, stared at the scurrying figures on the decks of the smoking + steamer, hoping,—always hoping,—and always sobbing out the + endless prayer. + </p> + <p> + At last, as the sun sank below the blue-black horizon, exhausted, + red-eyed, gasping men struggled up from the drenched, smothering interior + of the ship, and hurled themselves, not into the sea, but prone upon the + decks! They had conquered! The scattered, vagrant fires, attacked in their + infancy, while still in the creeping stage, had been subdued. + </p> + <p> + Darkness fell. A chill night air stole out of the east, stealthily + trailing the sun. Will-o'-the-wisp lights bespecked the sea, surrounding + the black hulk that lay motionless in the center of the circle. Lanterns + in a score or more of small boats bobbed fitfully in the gentle swell. + Presently lights appeared on board the Doraine, one here, one there, then + others in twos and threes,—some of them stationary, others moving + slowly from place to place. The life-boats crept closer, still closer. + Then, out from the silent hulk, came the voice of man. It was the voice of + the First Officer, hoarse and unrecognizable, but sharp with authority. + Other voices repeated the commands from various parts of the ship,—commands + to the encircling will-o'-the-wisps. + </p> + <p> + The word came down to the scores who filled the boats that they were to + lie by until sunrise, keeping in close contact with each other and at no + great distance from the ship. The most thorough, careful examination of + the steamer was in progress. If it was found that she was in no danger of + foundering,—and the word was most reassuring,—all of them + would be taken aboard in the morning. Nothing could be done at present. A + few hours more would tell the tale. + </p> + <p> + And then, for the first time since the disaster, the note of the croaker + was heard. Each and every boat contained at least one individual who knew + exactly what ought to be done in a crisis like this. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Landover addressed the benumbed, unresisting occupants of the boat + into which he had climbed with commendable reluctance as one of the last + persons to leave the ship. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't they begin sending out S. O. S. calls? What's the wireless for, + if not to be used at a time like this? Say, you! Yell up there to some of + those damned muddled-headed idiots and tell them what to do. Tell them + that I say for them to send out calls for help. What's that? What did you + say?” + </p> + <p> + The steward in charge of the boat repeated his remark and Mr. Landover at + once said he would report him to Captain Trigger. + </p> + <p> + “But it won't do any good,” complained the banker despairingly. “Captain + Trigger hasn't got the backbone of a fishworm. He'd let you tell him to go + to hell and never think of jacking you up for it. No wonder we're in the + fix we're in now. If he'd had the sense of a jelly-fish he'd have—Here! + Sit still! You'll upset the boat, you fool! What—What are you going + to do with that oar?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to crack you over the bean with it if you don't take back what + you said about Captain Trigger,” said the steward, very earnestly. “Take + it back, do you hear me?” + </p> + <p> + “My God, would you murder me for a little thing like that?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nicklestick aroused himself from the torpor of despair. + </p> + <p> + “Take it back, Mr. Landover,—please do. If he misses you, he'll get + me sure, it's so dark, and so help me God, I got nothing but the deepest + respect for Captain Trigger. He's a vonderful man, steward. Don't make any + mistake. You hear me say he is a vonderful man? Veil,—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, shut up, Nicklestick,” grated Landover, crouching down behind the + gentleman addressed. + </p> + <p> + The steward sat down. “I'd do it in a minute if it wasn't for the women + an' children in this boat.” + </p> + <p> + “I intend to have every officer on that steamer arrested for criminal + negligence the instant I set foot in New York,” boomed the banker. “I call + upon every one of you, my fellow-passengers, to testify to the utter lack + of precaution taken by the men in charge of that ship. And what effort are + they making to bring help to us now? By gad, if I was in command of that + vessel I'd be shooting wireless calls to every—Great Scott! What's + that?” + </p> + <p> + “That's a rocket, you blamed old fool!” roared the steward. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” gasped the exasperated banker. “Are we having a celebration + with fireworks?” + </p> + <p> + The dull, hapless occupants of the lifeboats watched with fascinated eyes + the first of the giant rockets that whizzed and roared its way up from the + deck of the ship, an endless arrow of fire piercing the night. A loud + report, the scattering of a hundred stars, and then—denser blackness + than before. + </p> + <p> + Morning came. Up out of the east stole a sickly grey. It turned slowly + into pink, and then suddenly the sea once more was blue and smiling. In + the heart of the dancing cordon lay the weirdly camouflaged Doraine, + inert, sinister, as still and cold as death. No smoke issued from her + stacks to cheer the wretched watchers; no foam, no spray leaped from her + mighty bow. She was a great, lifeless thing. Waves lapped gently against + her sides and fell away only to come back again in playful scorn for the + vast object that had rent and baffled them so long. On high fluttered the + Stars and Stripes, gay in the presence of death, a sprightly harbinger of + hope flaunting defiance in the face of despair. + </p> + <p> + Men, stripped to the waist, grimy and shining with the sweat of hours, + moving about in knots of three and four—always in knots of three or + four as if afraid to disintegrate—leaned upon the rail and watched + the approach of the crowded boats, looked down into pallid, anguished + faces with their eager, hungry eyes, eyes that devoured the groups along + the rail. Now and then a glad shout of joy went up from one of the boats, + and a figure in the huddled mass was transformed into a responsive thing + of life. + </p> + <p> + In each of the square, black openings in the hull of the ship stood men + with ropes and ladders. The great steel doors lay flat against the sides, + swung wide to admit this time a human cargo. From the interior of the + vessel came the brisk, incessant clatter of hammers against wood and + steel; from the decks broke the loud, commanding voices of men calling out + directions; from the gliding, slapping boats went up the hearty shouts of + understanding and obedience, the rattling of boat-hooks, the grinding of + oars in the locks, the murmur of voices revived. + </p> + <p> + “Vomen and children first!” was the shrill, oft-repeated exhortation from + one of the boats. + </p> + <p> + And up in the centre of another sprang a fine, imposing figure, from whose + lips rolled these thrilling words: + </p> + <p> + “By God, they're great! They're great, after all! God bless Captain + Trigger and every man-jack of them!” + </p> + <p> + “Get down!” roared his still unpacified critic, the steward. “You'll fall + overboard, you dam' fool!” + </p> + <p> + The gaunt, coatless Mr. Mott commanded the port side of the vessel; Mr. + Codge, the purser, the starboard. Fighting men in the breeches and + leggings of the American Navy; blackened and bandaged stokers, sailors and + landsmen comprised the motley company that stood ready to drag the + occupants of the boats up into the dank, smoke-scented maw of the ship. + </p> + <p> + One by one, in regular, systematic order, the lifeboats came alongside. + There was no confusion, no bungling. They bumped gently against the + towering rows of plates, and, made fast by ropes with ample play, gave up + in time their precious cargoes. No one lifted up his voice in rejoicing, + for there were dead and injured back in the shadows; there were + grief-stricken, anxious men and women crouching out there in the sunshine; + there were limp, unconscious women and half-dead children; and over all + still hung the ominous cloud of catastrophe fat with prophecies of perils + yet to come. + </p> + <p> + They had gone out from a ship filled with a monstrous clangour and + confusion, they were returning to a tomblike hulk, a lonely mass in which + echoes would abound, a thing of sighs and silences, the corpse of a + mammoth that had throbbed yesterday,—but never more. + </p> + <p> + Up in the curving triangle of the forward deck were two long, + canvas-covered rows. The dead! Forty-six twisted, silent forms lying side + by side, some calm in death, others charred and mutilated beyond all + possibility of identification. Every man in the engine-room at the time of + the explosion was now a mangled, unrecognizable thing. Engineers, + electricians, stokers,—all of them wiped out in the flash of an eye,—burnt, + boiled, shattered. Half a dozen women, as many children, lay with the + silent men. + </p> + <p> + The injured had been placed in staterooms on the promenade deck, + regardless of previous occupancy or subsequent claim. There lay the score + and a half of seriously injured, and there toiled the ship's surgeon and + his volunteer helpers. Sailor and merchant, worker and idler, scholar and + dolt, steerage and first cabin, wealth and poverty, shared alike in the + disposition of quarters and shared alike in attention. There was no + discrimination. One life was as good as another to the doctor and his men, + the poor man's moan as full of suffering as that of the rich man, the wail + of the steerage woman as piteous as that of her sister above. + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger was one of the injured. He swore a great deal when the + doctor ordered him to bed. Ribs and a broken arm? Why the devil should he + be put to bed for something a schoolboy would laugh at? Mr. Shannon and + two of the younger officers were killed by the explosion that wrecked the + bridge and chart house. Chief Engineer Gray died in the engine-room. + Cruise was blown to pieces in the wireless house. His assistant, the + cripple with the charmed life, was dead. + </p> + <p> + A few seconds before the first explosion took place he blew out his brains + with a big navy revolver. The last seen of Cruise was when he appeared in + the door of his station, an expression of mingled rage and alarm on his + face. Pointing frantically at the figure of his assistant as it shot down + the steps and across the deck, he shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Get that man! Get him! For God's sake, get him!” + </p> + <p> + It all happened in a few seconds of time. The shrill laugh of the fleeing + assistant, the report of the revolver, an instant of stupefaction,—and + then the dull, grinding crash. + </p> + <p> + It will never be known what Cruise had heard or seen in the last moments + of his life. No one on board the Doraine, however, doubted for an instant + that he had discovered, too late, the truth about his misshapen assistant. + They now knew with almost absolute certainty the identity of the odd man + in that devilish trio, the man whose footsteps Percival had heard, the man + who stayed behind to guarantee the consummation of the hideous plot. + Coward in the end, he shirked the death he was pledged to accept. He knew + what was coming. Unlike his braver comrades, he took the simplest way. + </p> + <p> + The count began. Late in the afternoon it was completed. There were + forty-six known dead on board the Doraine, the majority being members of + the crew. Seventeen persons were missing, chiefly from the steerage. + Twenty-nine seriously injured were under the doctor's care. Some of them + would not recover. A hundred or more persons suffered from shock, bruises, + cuts and exposure, but only a few of them required or demanded attention. + In spite of their injuries, they fell to with the spirit that makes for + true heroism and devoted themselves to the care of the less fortunate, or + to the assistance of the sorely-tried officers and men who strove to bring + order out of chaos. + </p> + <p> + Among the survivors were two American surgeons and a physician from Rio + Janeiro. They, with the nurses, all of whom had been saved, immediately + went to the relief of the ship's doctor, and in short order an improvised + hospital was established. There was a remarkable unanimity of + self-sacrifice among the passengers. High and low, they fell to in a + frenzy of comradeship, and worked side by side in whatsoever capacity they + were needed, whether fitted for it or not. No man, no woman, who was able + to lift a helping hand, failed in this hour of need. The bereaved, as well + as those who were untouched by a personal grief, gave all that was in + them, tearfully, grimly, ardently. + </p> + <p> + Menial labour fell to the lot of the lordly but uncomplaining Landover, to + Block and Nicklestick, Jones and Snipe, and even to the precious Signor + Joseppi, who, forgetting his Caruso-like throat, toiled and sweated in the + smoky saloon. + </p> + <p> + Morris Shine, the motion picture magnate, the while he laboured amidst the + wreckage of the after deck, lamented not the cheerless task but the evil + fate that prevented the making of the most spectacular film the world had + ever known. + </p> + <p> + Madame Careni-Amori, Madame Obosky and her dancers; bejewelled Jewesses + and half-clad emigrants; gentle women unused to toil and women who were + born to it; the old and the young—all of them, without exception,—rose + from the depths of despair and faced the rigours of the day with + unflinching courage, gave out of a limitless store of tenderness all that + their strength could spare. + </p> + <p> + And through a neglected, abandoned field of pearls and gold and precious + stones, limped unchallenged the tireless figure of “Soapy” Shay, diamond + thief, a bloody bandage about his head, an exalted light in his + pain-stricken eyes. His one-time captor lay stark and cold in the gruesome + line in the bow of the boat. It was “Soapy” Shay who staggered out of the + rack and smoke with the burly, stricken detective in his arms, and it was + “Soapy” Shay who wept when the last breath of life cased out through his + tortured lips. For of all the company on board the Doraine, there was but + one whom “Soapy” knew, but one who called him by name and shared tobacco + with him,—and that one was William Spinney, the man who was taking + him back to a place where mercy would not be shown. + </p> + <p> + After the sun had set and the decks were dark and deserted except for the + men employed in the gruesome business, the dead were lowered into the sea, + swathed in canvas and weighted with things that were made to kill,—shells + from the gunners' hoard. Swiftly, methodically, one after the other, they + slid down to the black, greedy waters, sank to the grave that is never + still yet always silent, to the vast, unexplored wilderness that stretches + around the world. The thin little missionary from the barren plateaus of + Patagonia and the plump priest from the heart of Buenos Aires monotonously + commended each and every one of them to the mercy of God! + </p> + <p> + The sun came up again in the morning over a smiling, happy sea that licked + the sides of the Doraine with the tenderness of a dog. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + The plight of the hapless steamer could not be disguised. Even the most + ignorant passenger knew that the wrecked engines could not be repaired or + compounded. They knew that the Doraine was completely paralysed. The power + to move at will was for ever lost, the force that had driven her + resistlessly along the chosen path was still. The powerful propellers were + idle, the huge stern-post wrenched so badly that the rudder was useless. + She was adrift, helplessly adrift. Of what avail the wheel and a + patched-up rudder to the mass that lay inert, motionless on the smiling + sea? + </p> + <p> + Every one on board realized, with sinking heart, that the Doraine was to + go on drifting, drifting no man knew whither, until she crossed the path + of a friendly stranger out there in the mighty waste. No cry of distress, + no call for help could go crackling into the boundless reaches. That was + the plight of the Doraine and her people on the mocking day that followed + the disaster, and unless fate intervened that would be her plight for days + without end. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott, temporarily in command, addressed the passengers in the main + saloon, where they had congregated at his request. He did not mince + matters. He stated the situation plainly. It was best that they should + realize, that they should understand, that they should know the truth, in + order that they might adapt themselves to the conditions he was now + compelled of necessity to impose upon them. They were, so to speak, + occupying a derelict. Help might come before nightfall, it might not come + for days. He hoped for the best but he intended to prepare for the worst. + </p> + <p> + Without apology he laid down a rigid set of rules, and from these rules, + he made it perfectly clear, there could be no deviation. The available + supply of food was limited. It was his purpose to conserve it with the + greatest possible care. Down in the holds, of course, was a vast store of + consigned foodstuffs, but he had no authority to draw upon it and would + not do so unless the ship's own stock was exhausted. Passengers and crew, + therefore, would be obliged to go on short rations. “Better to eat + sparingly now,” he said, “than not to eat at all later on.” He concluded + his remarks in this fashion: + </p> + <p> + “Remember that we are all in the same boat. We don't know how long we'll + be drifting like this and we don't know where we're drifting to. It's an + everlastingly big ocean we're on. We ought to thank God we're not at the + bottom of it now. If we're lucky we'll be picked up soon, if not,—well, + it's up to us, every one of us, to make the best of it. We're alive, and + that's certainly something. We'll all find it easier if we keep ourselves + busy. That's why I'm asking you, one and all, to do a good day's work + regularly, one way or another, from now until relief comes. We can't have + any loafers or quitters on board this ship. That means everybody, rich and + poor. You may think I'm putting a hardship on you, seeing as how you have + paid for your passage and all that, but what I'm ordering you to do ain't + a marker to what you'd be doing if you were out there in lifeboats, eight + hundred miles from shore, and—well, we won't go into that. We've got + to make the best of it, my friends. We're up against it good and plenty, + that's the plain facts of the case. There's no use in me saying it's all + going to turn out right in a day or so, because I don't know a da—- + blamed thing about it. We're in God's hands. Maybe it will help to pray, + but I doubt it. All I've got to say is this: go down on your knees as much + as you like, but don't lick!” + </p> + <p> + Signor Joseppi lifted his voice, but not in song. In very bad English he + wanted to know how long the Captain thought it would be before they were + rescued, and when he was informed that it might not be for weeks or even + months, he cried out in worse English that he was ruined. He would have to + violate his contract! No impressario would think of engaging him again! + His wonderful American tour! If he was not rescued within a week—Oh, + my God, the consequences! He did not regret the paltry two thousand a week—for + thirty weeks—but to violate a contract! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott looked rather helpless. He appreciated the fact that Signor + Joseppi was a very great personage, but what was he saying? Was it—could + it be mutiny? + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, Mr. Joseppi,” he broke in, “but if Madame Amori is willing to + take her regular turn at making up berths, I guess it won't hurt you to + help every now and then in the dining-room.” + </p> + <p> + Signor Joseppi did not understand a word of it. He turned to the man at + his elbow for enlightenment. + </p> + <p> + “What did he say?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “He says you have a perfectly marvellous voice and that he'd give two + thousand any time to hear you sing,” replied his neighbour in excellent + Italian. + </p> + <p> + Whereupon the Signor favoured the severe-looking Mr. Mott with a beaming + smile and as deep a bow as he could make in such close quarters. + </p> + <p> + “A most courteous officer,” he said to his neighbour. “It will be a joy to + serve him, my friend. We should, one and all, do what he asks of us, no + matter how mean the task. I, Joseppi,—you have heard of Joseppi, my + friend?—I shall be the example for all of you. Should he say, 'Wash + the dishes, Joseppi,' then will I wash the dishes. I, Joseppi, who never + washed a dish in his life. Should he say, 'Cook the meals, Joseppi,' then + will Joseppi, who never cooked a thing in his life, then will Joseppi cook + the meals. Should he say, 'Joseppi, scrub the floor,' then will I scrub + the floor. Should he say, 'Signor, steer the ship,' then will I do my best + to steer the ship. I who have never steered a ship. So let me be your + example, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “That's fine,” said his neighbour, as they moved off together. “But + supposing he asks you to sing occasionally to amuse the rest of us,—what + then?” + </p> + <p> + “Amuse?” cried the Signor. “Amuse?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, entertain.” + </p> + <p> + The great Joseppi pursed his lips. His brows grew dark with trouble. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but that would be violating my contract,” he said. “My contract + specifically states that under no circumstances may I—” Then + suddenly, as if renouncing a sacred principle, his brow cleared, and he + cried out: “Damn the contract! Joseppi's voice is his own. Joseppi will do + as he pleases with it. Let him but make the request, my friend,—and + Joseppi will sing till he drops from exhaustion.” Lowering his voice to a + confidential undertone, he went on: “And that, my friend, is more than you + will find Careni-Amori willing to do. There is one cold-blooded, grasping + woman for you. Money! She thinks of nothing but money. And flattery! Ah, + how she thrives on flattery. That woman, my friend, beautiful as she is, + has no more heart than a—” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, please,” broke in his listener, in English. “I've got to beat + it.” + </p> + <p> + He had caught sight of a slim young figure at the head of the stairs,—a + girl in a rumpled blue serge tailor-suit and a tan-coloured sport hat + pulled well down over her dark hair. He made his way through the crowd and + caught her up as she passed out on the deck. + </p> + <p> + “I've been terribly worried about you,” he began without other greeting, + planting himself in front of her. “I thought maybe you might have—but, + thank the good Lord, you weren't.” + </p> + <p> + She looked momentarily bewildered. Then she recognized him and held out + her hand. Her face was serious, unsmiling, her voice low and tired. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it dreadful, Mr. Percival? What a terrible experience it has been. + Oh—and I am glad you came through safely, too. But—” as her + eyes narrowed anxiously,-“you were hurt. Your hands?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't very well shake hands with you, Miss Clinton,” said he. “Scorched + a little, that's all. You'd think it was serious, the way they're + bandaged. One of the sailors fixed them up for me last night. I can't tell + you how glad I am that you are all right. And your aunt? Is she—” He + paused. + </p> + <p> + “Auntie is all right, Mr. Percival. She's in bed. Shock and exposure. We + were out there all night. In one of the boats. Katherine,—” her + voice shook a little,—“Katherine is gone. She leaped overboard. I—I + saw her go. I shall never forget it,—never. Aunt Julia's maid. For, + oh, so many years, Mr. Percival.” She spoke in sharp, broken sentences, as + if breathless. “You must have been terribly burned. Your hair,—your + eyes, how bloodshot they are.” + </p> + <p> + “Smoke,” he said succinctly. “Singed on this side only. Really nothing + serious. I got off very lightly.” + </p> + <p> + “Some of the men were frightfully burned,” she said with a shudder. “I am + trying to be a nurse. There are two men in my—in my—” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he broke in hastily. “Don't talk about it, Miss Clinton. It's + corking of you to take hold like this. Corking!” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about yourself. Where were you when it happened?”' + </p> + <p> + “I hate to admit it, but I was having a bite to eat down in the galley. + You see, they'd somehow forgotten to give me anything to eat,—in the + excitement, of course,—and I had been so busy myself it didn't occur + to me to be hungry till rather late in the day. I managed to get on deck + but not until after the bombs had all gone off. My friend, Mr. Gray,—the + Chief Engineer, you know,—was down in the engine-room. That's how I + got my hands burned. Not badly, I assure you, but—well, they may be + a little scarred. You may not know it, but Mr. Gray and I came from the + same place. Baltimore. He belonged to a fine old family there—and + he'd been very kind to me. Poor fellow! Penned in. They never had a chance + down there. He was—well, he died a few minutes after he was dragged + out here on the deck. His clothes were on fire. But let's not talk about + it. Tell me, is there anything I can do to make you more comfort-able? Or + your aunt? I'm what you might call officer of the deck at present. Mr. + Mott—” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be in bed, Mr. Percival,” she interrupted sharply. “Your + face is burned, too,—you must be suffering terribly. Wait! Now don't + tell me you are not. I know better. I've seen those other men who were + burned. I—” + </p> + <p> + “It's nothing, I tell you,” he interrupted, almost roughly. “There are + dozens of men worse off than I am, and are they in bed? Not much. This is + no time to lie down, Miss Clinton, if you've got a leg to stand on. See + that little chap over there with his head and hands covered with bandages,—and + barely able to drag his feet after him? He's an American jockey. I don't + know his name. He was blown twenty or thirty feet across the after-deck. + Brought up at the bottom of a companion-way. He's nothing but cuts and + bruises from head to foot. But he's around on his wobbly little pins + today, just the same, trying to edge in on some sort of a job. Couldn't + keep him in bed.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Clinton's eyes were full of wonder and incredulity. “I cannot + understand it,” she said. “My cousin was with the American Ambulance in + France. He says that the slightest flesh wound sends a soldier to the + hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “They haven't any choice in the matter. Besides, it isn't the same. Poor + devils, they may have been at it in the trenches for weeks and months. A + wound of any sort means a pleasant vacation. Still,” he went on after a + moment, a faint derisive smile on his lips, “we had a big husky up in Camp + who insisted on going to bed every time he had the nosebleed.” + </p> + <p> + She was looking into his blood-shot eyes, infinite pity and concern in her + own. + </p> + <p> + “Will you let me dress your hands, Mr. Percival, whenever it is necessary? + I am getting used to it now.” + </p> + <p> + “It's good of you, Miss Clinton,” he replied gratefully. “But I think + you'd better stick to the fellows who really need attention. Don't add an + extra ounce to your burden. You'll need all of your strength and courage + to face the demands of the next few days. Those chaps have just begun to + suffer. They're going to have a tight squeeze getting through,—if + they get through at all. You have not answered my question. Is there + anything I can do for you or your aunt?” + </p> + <p> + “No,—not a thing,” she said. “We are quite all right. As Mr. Mott + said, we are all in the same boat, Mr. Percival. We've got to make up our + minds to that. We can't have the comforts and the luxuries we had day + before yesterday. Whatever is left of them, we must share with others.” + </p> + <p> + “Even with stowaways,” he ventured, but not fatuously. + </p> + <p> + “No one is likely to forget how our only stowaway came by his wounds,” she + said simply. “Despite your modesty, I am quite certain who it was that + carried the Chief Engineer on deck, Mr. Percival. While his clothes were + burning, too.” + </p> + <p> + Percival turned his face away and many seconds passed before he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” he said at last, a trifle unsteadily, “at regular intervals + the gun up there in the bow is to be fired. You must not be alarmed when + it goes off. There is a chance that some ship may hear the report. The + British have a few warships down here, you know. They would investigate if + they got word of big guns being fired anywhere in these parts. Mr. Mott + will give warning when the gun is to be fired, so that every one will + understand. I—I just thought I'd tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. Good-bye for the present. I must get back to my wounded.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep your spirits up,” he said. “That's the principal job now, Miss + Clinton. Good-bye,—and thank you.” + </p> + <p> + He watched her as she moved off down the deck. He could not help noticing + that her figure drooped perceptibly. In his mind's eye he saw her as she + was but two days before, straight, graceful, full of the joy of living, + with a stride that was free and swinging. He recalled her lovely, + inquiring grey eyes as she stared at him on that ignominious afternoon, + the parted red lips and the smile that came to them, the smartly dressed + hair, the jaunty hat, the trim sport suit of tan-coloured jersey—he + recalled the alluring picture she made that day, and sadly shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Poor girl,” he said to himself, and walked slowly in the opposite + direction, favouring his left leg. + </p> + <p> + He went down to see the Captain. The old seadog was stretched out in his + berth, a look of pain and utter despair in his eyes. One of the Russian + dancers, a rather pretty girl of a distinctly Slavic type, was cleaning up + the room. The ship's doctor had just left. + </p> + <p> + “Feeling a bit more comfortable, sir?” inquired the young man. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you'd get this girl out of here,” growled Captain Trigger with + difficulty. “I want to swear.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it would be all right to go ahead with it, sir,” said Percival. + “She doesn't understand a word of English.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain shook his head. “I'll let it wait.” Then, looking at his + visitor's bandaged hands: “How are your hands, my lad?” + </p> + <p> + “Fairly easy. The doctor says the burns are not deep. Mr. Mott asked me to + step in and see you, sir, and give you my opinion as to the bombs. You + see, I've had a great deal of experience with high explosives. There isn't + the slightest doubt in my mind that you found and got rid of the worst of + them. The officer in charge of the gun-crew agrees with me. They planted + the big ones, the ones that were to destroy the ship, down in the hold, + where there was less chance of discovery. The others, I am convinced, were + much smaller. It would have been impossible to hide a bomb of any + noticeable size in any of the places where the explosions occurred. They + went about it very cunningly, very systematically. Of course, no one saw + the bombs that exploded, but judging by the actual results, they could not + have been very powerful.” + </p> + <p> + “And I also,” said the Captain, “thank God we dug out the big ones.” He + scowled forlornly. “Dr. Cullen says I am in for a week of this, Percival. + You don't think so, do you?” + </p> + <p> + Percival smiled. “I am more or less of an expert on explosives, sir,” he + replied. + </p> + <p> + “Umph,” grunted Captain Trigger. “I see. Just the same, I think I'll be up + and about by tomorrow. If I were your age, young man, you can bet I + wouldn't be lying here in this bed.” + </p> + <p> + “On the other hand, if I were your age, Captain Trigger,” said Percival, + “I'd probably have sense enough to do exactly what the doctor ordered.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger's mouth fell open. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of all the damned—” he began, and then swallowed hard. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + For three days and nights the Doraine drifted lazily in a calm and + rippling sea, always to the southward. The days were bright and warm, the + nights black and chill. It was the spring of the year in that zone. + Without adequate navigation instruments, Mr. Mott was forced to rely to a + great extent on speculation. He was able to make certain calculations with + reasonable accuracy, but they were of little real significance. It was, of + course, possible to determine the general direction in which they were + drifting, and the speed. They were slowly but surely edging into the + strong west wind drift. The Falkland Islands would soon be off to the + right, with South Georgia and the Sandwich group farther to the south and + east, the southernmost tip of Africa to the left. + </p> + <p> + Not a sail had been sighted, not a sign of smoke appeared on the spotless + horizon. At regular intervals the gun on the forward deck boomed thrice in + quick succession, startling the lifeless hulk into a sort of spasmodic + vitality. Then she would sink back once more into the old, irksome + lethargy, incapable of resisting the gentlest wave, submissive to the whim + of the slightest breeze. The ship's carpenter and his men were making slow + headway in the well-nigh impossible task of repairing the rudder. Attempts + were being made to rig up makeshift sails to replace those licked from the + supplemental spars by flames that had earned considerable progress along + the roof of the upper deck building before they were subdued. Blackened, + charred masts and yards, stripped of rigging, reared themselves like pines + at the edge of a fire-swept forest. Sail-makers and riggers laboured + stubbornly, but the work was slow and the means of restoration limited. + </p> + <p> + The occupants of the derelict had settled down to a dull, almost dogged + state of resignation. There were several deaths and burials, incidents + that made but little impression on the waiting, watchful survivors. Each + succeeding day brought forth additional watchers to swell the anxious + throng,—resolute and sometimes ungovernable men who, defying their + wounds and the nurses, refused to stay where they could not have a hand in + all that was going on. + </p> + <p> + Back of all this pitiful courage, however, lurked the unholy fear that + they might be left to their fate in case the ship had to be hurriedly + abandoned. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott watched the weather. Every seaman on board the Doraine scanned + the cloudless sky with searching, anxious eyes. They sniffed the steady + wind that blew them farther south. Always they scanned the sky and sniffed + the wind. + </p> + <p> + “It's got to come sometime,” repeated Captain Trigger, after each report + from Mr. Mott. + </p> + <p> + “I've known weather like this to last for weeks,” said the First Officer. + </p> + <p> + “In the South Pacific, yes,” said the Captain grimly. “But we're in the + South Atlantic, Mott.” + </p> + <p> + On the sixth day the barometer began to fall. The breeze stiffened. The + sea became choppy, and white-caps danced fitfully over the greenish + stretches, growing wilder and wilder under the whip of a flouting wind. + The two patchwork sails on the lumbering Doraine flapped noisily for + awhile, as if shaking off their tor-por, then suddenly grew taut and fat + with prosperity. The twisted, half-jammed rudder,—far from worthy + despite the efforts of its repairers,—whiningly obeyed the man at + the wheel, and once more the ship felt the caress of the deep on her + cleaving bows. + </p> + <p> + The horizon to the north and west seemed to draw nearer, the contrast + between the deepening blue of the water and the clear azure of the + contracting dome more sharply defined. The sky that had been cloudless for + days still remained barren, but the sailor knew what lay beyond the + clear-cut rim of the world. The man of the sea could look far beyond the + horizon. He could see the ugly clouds that were even now speeding down + from the north, invisible as yet but soon to creep into view; he could see + the mighty billows on the other side of that distant line; he could hear + the roar and shriek of the tempest that was still hundreds of miles away. + It was the matter of but a few hours before the wind and the billows would + rush up to smite the Doraine with all their might under the cover of a + black and storm-rent sky. And what was to become of the vessel, + floundering in the path of the hurricane? + </p> + <p> + Late afternoon brought the forerunner of the gale, a whistling, howling + squall that frantically strove, it would seem, to outrace the baleful + clouds. Then the Doraine was in the thick of the furious revel of sea and + sky, plunging, leaping, rolling like a monstrous cork.... + </p> + <p> + How she managed to weather the storm, God knows, and He alone. At the + mercy of wave and wind, she was tossed and hammered and racked for two + frightful days and nights, and yet she remained afloat, battered, smashed, + raked from stem to stern, stripped of everything the tempest could wrench + from her in its fury. And yet on the third day, when the storm abated, the + sturdy ship was still riding the waves, flayed but un-conquered, and the + baffled sea was licking the sides of her once more with servile though + deceitful tenderness. + </p> + <p> + But there was water in the hold. The ship was leaking badly. + </p> + <p> + Up from the stifling interior straggled the unhappy inmates. They looked + again upon the unbelievable: a smiling, dancing sea of blue under a canopy + clean and spotless. It was unbelievable. Even the stouthearted Captain and + the faithful mate, blear-eyed and haggard from loss of sleep, were filled + with wonder. + </p> + <p> + “I can't understand it,” muttered Mr. Mott a dozen times that day, shaking + his head in a bewildered sort of way. “I can't understand how she did it. + By right, she ought to be at the bottom of the ocean, and here she is on + top of it, same as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe in God, Mr. Mott?” asked the Captain solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Mr. Mott emphatically. After a moment he added: “I've been a + long time coming to it, Captain Trigger, but I do. Nothing short of an + Almighty Being could have steered this ship for the past two days.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain nodded his head slowly, his gaze fixed on something above and + far beyond the horizon. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it's too much to ask of Him, though,” said he, audibly + completing a thought. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott evidently had been thinking of the same thing, for he said: + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry to say it's gained about two feet on the pumps since last + night.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger's face was very grave. “That means a couple of days more + at the outside.” His eyes rested speculatively on the three lifeboats + still hanging above the starboard rail. There was another being repaired + on the port side. “More than six hundred of us on board, Andrew.” His head + dropped suddenly, his chin twitched. Mr. Mott looked away. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it will come to that,” said he, an odd note of confidence + in his voice. “'Tain't likely, old friend, that God would see us safely + through all we've had to tackle and then desert us in the end. Something's + bound to turn up. I've a feeling,—a queer feeling,—that we're + going to pull out of this all right. I know it looks mighty hopeless, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Just the same, Mr. Mott,” broke in the Captain, lifting his head and + setting his jaw, “you'd better set all available hands to work on the + rafts immediately. It's true God has helped us through a lot, but it + strikes me we'd better be on the safe side and help God a little at this + stage of the game. He is wonderful, Andrew, but He isn't wonderful enough + to keep man afloat very long unless man himself builds the raft. So don't + lose a minute.” + </p> + <p> + Anxious, inquiring eyes followed the Captain and his First Officer + wherever they went. On all sides were silent, beaten people who asked no + questions, for they were afraid of the answers. Sick, dazed, haggard, they + stared hopelessly, drearily out over the water; for all that their faces + revealed the end was near at hand and they cared but little. They had been + through one hell; death could bring nothing worse. + </p> + <p> + Here and there a stout-hearted optimist appeared among them, but his very + cheerfulness seemed to offend. They did not want to hear his silly, stupid + predictions that something was “sure to turn up.” They knew that water was + coming into the hold; they knew that there were but four lifeboats and + seven hundred men and women; they knew that the Doraine was going down in + a very few hours; they knew that the Captain had given up all hope of + rescue. Nothing could “turn up” now but death. + </p> + <p> + Madame Obosky had taken a great fancy to Algernon Adonis Percival, and for + a most peculiar reason. He had, it appears, abused her roundly on the + first night of the storm for venturing on deck against orders, compelling + him to risk what he considered a very precious life in a successful effort + to drag her back to safety. As a matter of fact, he did not drag her back + to safety. That feat was accomplished by two sailors who managed to reach + both of them before another devastating wave came up to tear his grip + loose from the broken rail to which he clung with one bandaged hand while + he kept her from sliding into the sea with the other. + </p> + <p> + He was very angry. In the first place, his hands hurt him dreadfully, and + in the second place she had forced him to disobey orders by going out to + save her. He did not mutter his complaints. He told her in plain and + violent English what he thought of her, and if she went out there again + he'd be damned happy to let her drown. + </p> + <p> + Now, it had been some time since any man had had the hardihood or temerity + to upbraid Madame Obosky. No male had cursed her since she left Petrograd,—and + that was four years ago. She had been cursed often enough by her own sex,—professionally, + of course,—but the men she had encountered since leaving Russia were + either too chivalrous or too cowardly to abuse her, and she missed it + terribly. + </p> + <p> + She had gone through a very hard school in order to become one of the + principal dancers in her land. Teachers had cursed her, teachers had + beaten her,—and they always were men. + </p> + <p> + When she was eighteen she married a lion-tamer. Who would have thought + that a man who trained lions could be gentle and mild, and as tame as the + beasts he had beaten for years? She was barely nineteen when he died, + quite suddenly. There was a dark rumour that she had poisoned him. True or + false, the rumour persisted, and she soon became one of the most popular + dancers in the Empire. For three years she had a manager who treated her + so vilely, so contemptuously that she tried to kill his wife, whereupon + the unnatural husband refused to have anything more to do with her. + </p> + <p> + She was dancing in Germany when the War broke out, but succeeded in + getting over into Holland within a week or two, thereby escaping what she + was pleased to describe as “something zat no woman could endure, no matter + how long she have live' in Russia.” Paris and London had treated her + kindly, courteously, but that was to be expected, she repined, because all + of the real men were off at the front fighting. Instead of being scowled + at and ordered about by managers and orchestra leaders, or brow-beaten by + hotel-clerks and head-waiters, she met with nothing but the most servile + politeness,—due, she was prone to argue, to the unquestioned + decadence of the French and English races. They were a bloodless lot, + those Frenchmen and Englishmen. + </p> + <p> + It was the same in Rio Janeiro, Buenos Aires and Santiago,—and it + would be even worse in New York, Chicago and San Francisco. The Americans, + she had heard, were the worst of them all. They didn't know the first + thing about the majesty of sex. The Indian, she understood, was an + exception. From all accounts, he knew how to treat his woman. + </p> + <p> + She was homesick. Her heart leaped with joy when she discovered in + Percival what she believed to be a domineering, masterful man. He had been + neither servile, nor polite, nor afraid. He had treated her,—at + least for an illuminating, transcendent ten minutes,—as if she were + the dirt under his feet,—and he was an American at that. True, he + had apologized a little later on, and had blushed quite becomingly in + doing so, but nothing,—nothing in the world,—would ever make + her believe that he was not the sort of man who could be depended upon to + put a woman in her place and keep her there. He might apologize until he + was black in the face and still be unable to take back the words he had + uttered. Notwithstanding that he, in his apology, professed to have + mistaken her in the darkness for one of the Portuguese immigrant women who + didn't understand a word of English, she forgave him quite humbly, and + that was going pretty far for Olga Obosky, whose identity ought not to + have been a matter of doubt, even on the darkest of nights. + </p> + <p> + She was a lithe, perfectly formed young woman, beautiful in an unusual + way. Her body was as sinuous as that of a woodland nymph. Indeed, in one + of her most spectacular dances, she appeared as a nymph, barefooted, + bare-legged, and,—as Mrs. Spofford caustically remarked,—bare-faced. + She possessed the marvellously clear, colourless complexion found only + among the purely Slavic women. Her lips were red and sensuous, her eyes + darkly mysterious and brooding, her hair as black as the raven's wing. + </p> + <p> + When she smiled her face became strikingly alive, radiant, transforming + her into a jolly, good-natured, wholesome girl in whom not the faintest + trace of the carnal was left. Every move, every thought, every impulse was + feminine; her imagination was feminine; she cast the spell of her + femininity over all with whom she came in contact. Primitively sensuous, + she was also primitively wary,—and so she was ineffably feminine. + </p> + <p> + Prior to the time of her dramatic encounter with the American, she had + favoured him with no more than a glance or two of curiosity. He was a + stowaway; for a brief while he was suspected of being involved in the plot + to blow up the ship. That was enough for her. Twice she had seen Miss + Clinton talking with him, and once, just before the storm set in, she had + paused to watch the young American girl renew the bandages on his hands + after dressing the burns. Half an hour after he had apologized for + speaking so roughly to her, she decided that it was her duty to hunt him + up and minister to him. The ship was rolling terribly, the din of the + elements was deafening, but Olga Obosky was not a faint-hearted person. + She went forth boldly, confidently. Terrified, clinging observers + marvelled at her sure-footedness, at the graceful way in which her sinuous + body bent itself to the perilous heavings of the vessel. + </p> + <p> + She found him in the reading-room, seated in a corner. Miss Clinton was + readjusting the bandage on one of his hands. Half a dozen people were in + the room, manfully defying the turmoil that had sent nearly every one else + to bed in terror and distress. Without hesitation the dancer joined the + couple in the corner. Her smile was engaging; a faint line between her + eyebrows signified the concern she felt for him. + </p> + <p> + WEST WIND DRIFT + </p> + <p> + Miss Clinton looked up from her work. Her smile was politely accusative,—and + brief. + </p> + <p> + “It is all my fault,” began Madame Obosky, standing before them, her feet + wide apart, her knees bent slightly to meet the varying slants and lurches + of the vessel. She spoke the English language confidently and well. Her + accent, which was scarcely noticeable, betrayed the fact that she had + mastered French long before attempting English. There was a piquant + boldness in the occasional misplacing of words and in the haphazard + construction of sentences. She was unafraid. + </p> + <p> + “I have subject him to much pain and discomfort,” she went on, addressing + the girl. “Those poor hand! It is I who should kiss them, Mademoiselle, + not you.” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss them?” gasped Miss Clinton. + </p> + <p> + “Of no doubt,” said Madame Obosky readily. “Do they not pain because of + me? Should I not kiss the hand who snatch me from the horrible death? From + the Kingdom Come, as the doctor he say to me such a little time ago. And + you, Mademoiselle, who have not been save by him from the Kingdom Come, + you attend his hands and make him to be greatly comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “I am merely dressing the burns, Madame Obosky,” said the other, coldly. + “I have done as much for the other poor fellows who—” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know,” broke in the Russian, smiling. “You must not be offend + with me if I speak your language so badly.” + </p> + <p> + “It strikes me you speak it most acceptably,” interposed Percival. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” she asked abruptly. “I have heard you called the + stowaway. No one has speak your name to me.” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Percival,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “It is a pretty name,” said she, dubiously. “But surely you do not approve + of me to call you Percival so quick. What is the other name, the name I am + to—” + </p> + <p> + “That's the trouble with a name like mine. It sounds so beastly informal + when you leave off the Mister, and it sounds as if you'd been a servant in + the family for at least one generation if you stick it on. If you could + only call me Monsieur Percival, or Senor Percival, or even Herr Percival, + it wouldn't seem so bad, but Mister Percival,—well, it's pretty + soft, isn't it, Miss Clinton?” + </p> + <p> + “Please hold your hand still, Mr. Percival,” ordered the girl. She smiled + up at the puzzled dancer. “His name is Mr. Percival, Madame Obosky. That's + the poor creature's last name.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see. Then even you, Mademoiselle, may not call him Percival?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not call him Percival.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, she's known me such a very short time,” explained the subject of + these remarks. + </p> + <p> + For a few moments Madame Obosky watched the bandaging process in silence. + When she spoke again it was to say: + </p> + <p> + “You are so skilful, so gentle, Mademoiselle. I am taking a lesson in + gentleness from you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite simple, Madame. I am very awkward. I have had no experience. + But if we ever live to see home again, I shall prepare myself at once for + work in France. We are needed over there. We will be needed more than + ever, now that America has gone in. Our own soldiers are over there, God + bless them.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Obosky gave her a pitying look. + </p> + <p> + “You may thank your God that you do not live in a land of soldiers, + Mademoiselle. If you did, you would not be so eager to nurse them back to + life. Do I shock you? Voila! When you train a boy to be a soldier, as the + boys are trained in my country and in Germany, you make an animal of him,—and + not a very nice animal at that. You nurse him back to life and strength + and in return for your kindness he outrages you, and goes his way + rejoicing. No, I do not like the soldiers.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Clinton did not look up. Percival stared at the Russian for a moment + and then observed: + </p> + <p> + “I don't think you can say that of the French or the English, Madame.” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders. “Quite true. But the French and the English, + Mr. Percival, are decadent races,” she said coolly, as if there were + nothing more to be said on the subject. “Please, Mademoiselle,” she went + on, briskly, “will you not let me see how you have prepared his hands? I + mean, how have you,—is it right to say fixed them?” + </p> + <p> + “Dressed them, you mean, Madame Obosky.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. First you undress them, then you dress them, is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + Ruth Clinton laughed. The woman was quaint. + </p> + <p> + “I am about to begin on the left hand. You may watch me, if you care to do + so.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it not make you embarrass?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I be embarrassed?” inquired Ruth, flushing. + </p> + <p> + “I have said the wrong word,” lamented the other. “Nervous,—zat,—that + is the word.” + </p> + <p> + “They're not very lovely things to look at,” said Percival. “All red and + blistery and greasy. Miss Clinton is a regular heroine to tackle 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “I have witnessed some very terrible sights, Mr. Percival,” said the + Russian, her eyes narrowing. “Have you ever seen a little Jewish girl,—but + no, Mademoiselle, no! I have catch the look in your eyes. I shall not tell + you what I have seen. Go on! I shall be silent and take my first lesson.” + </p> + <p> + Closely, intently she watched the process. When it was all over and the + bottle containing ointment had been restored to the patient's pocket, she + spread out her hands and exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “It is not difficult. May I inquire where the gauze bandages are to be + obtained, Miss Clinton? And do you always use the same safety pins?” + </p> + <p> + She arose early the next morning. Rousing her maid, she ordered her to + apply to the ship's surgeon for bandages and to fetch them to her at once. + </p> + <p> + “I know,—yes, I know. You are dying, but do as I tell you. This + instant! Why should you, a great hulking beast of a woman, be dying every + minute of the day while I, not half your size, am tingling all over with + life? Go!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Madame,” groaned the wretched woman, rolling her eyes, “I shall be + dashed to pieces against the walls. I cannot stand. My legs will not hold + me up. They—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough! That is no excuse. My legs manage to hold me up.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Madame, it is my legs I am speaking of. My legs are not like yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Any fool can see that,” retorted her mistress, and the ungainly maid + staggered out on her mission. + </p> + <p> + Later on, supplied with a roll of gauze, Madame Obosky set out in quest of + her preserver. Even the veterans among the seamen gazed upon her in + wondering admiration as she made her way about the ship. She was a + revelation to them. The increasing fury of the storm had driven all save + the hardiest sailors and a few of the non-praying male passengers to their + rooms. Now and then one or two of the courageous, devoted nurses appeared + in the corridors, reeling from patient to patient, but except for them the + ship seemed entirely bereft of women. Small wonder then that the lithe, + undaunted Russian created a sensation among the sailors who themselves + were cold with dread. + </p> + <p> + She discovered him at last, coming up the steps from the devastated engine + room. He was with Mr. Mott and several other half-dressed men. Their faces + were grave,—more serious than ever. They had been down to + investigate the leak. Percival was stripped to the waist. The glare of the + lanterns fell upon his broad shoulders and powerful arms, bronzed and + burnished by the sun of the high hills. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she said, laying her hand on one of his brawny arms, “I have with + me the bandages.” She sent a swift glance over him, and smiled. “But I see + you have not the bottle. Is it in your cabin, Mr. Percivail?” + </p> + <p> + He flushed darkly under his coat of tan. His companions stared for a + moment, and then went on. + </p> + <p> + “I am busy,” he said. “I haven't the time now, Madame Obosky. Thank you, + just the same.” Then a sense of loyalty to the girl who had been kind to + him impelled him to add: “Besides, Miss Clinton has been taking care of my + hands. She has got used to dressing them, so I—” + </p> + <p> + “But it is my duty now,” she protested. “She owes so little to you and I + so much. Come, let us procure the lotion. Where is your cabin?” + </p> + <p> + He held back. “You can't go to my cabin.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” she exclaimed, in surprise. “Does not Miss Clinton go to + your cabin?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she does not!” + </p> + <p> + “But she goes to the cabins of other men who are wounded. I have see her + with my own eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “That's different. They can't come to her.” + </p> + <p> + She looked searchingly into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” she said after a moment. “You are in love with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Ridiculous,” he exclaimed, scowling. + </p> + <p> + “And so you prefer to have her fix your hands. I see, my friend. Voila! If + so is the case, I am outcast.” + </p> + <p> + “But, confound it, it isn't the case,” he cried. “It's simply this: I + wouldn't for the world have her feel that I am not grateful, and that's + exactly what it would look like if I allowed you or any one else to butt + in, Madame Obosky.” + </p> + <p> + “Butt in?” she said, a puzzled look in her dark eyes. “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “It's English for interfere,” said he, shortly. + </p> + <p> + She removed her hand from his arm. He was conscious of the abrupt + termination of an exquisite thrill. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she said, lifting her chin. “I shall not interfere.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, please,” he said. “It's mighty good of you. Please don't + think me ungracious. You understand, however,—don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not,” she replied, shaking her head slowly. Suddenly her eyes + widened. “Is it because I dance in my bare feet, in my bare legs, that you + think so vilely of me?” + </p> + <p> + He stared. “Good Lord! I don't think vilely of you, Madame Obosky. I + wasn't even aware that you danced in your bare feet and legs.” + </p> + <p> + “You have never seen Obosky dance?” she cried in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + She frowned. “Then, my friend, I was wrong in what I say just now. Most + men who have seen me dance think I am a bad woman, and so they either + covet me or despise me. If you have not had ze pleasure of seeing me, Mr. + Percivail, you do not either covet me or despise me. That is fine. It is + good to know that you do not despise me.” Observing the expression in his + eyes, she went on calmly. “Oh, yes, I shall be very much please to have + you covet me. Zat—that is all right. But if you despise me,—no, + no, zat would be terrible.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment he was dashed. He did not know how to take her remark. She + was a new, a strange type to him. After a sharp, quick look into her eyes, + however, he came to the conclusion that she was absolutely sincere. So far + as she was concerned, it was as if she had said nothing more outrageous + than: “I shall be please to consider you one of my admirers.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Madame,” he said, smiling, “permit me to express the hope that + both of us may go on to the end of our days without having our peace of + mind disturbed.” + </p> + <p> + She looked puzzled for a moment, and then favoured him with her broad, + good-natured smile. + </p> + <p> + WEST WIND DRIFT 85 + </p> + <p> + “Spoken like a Frenchman,” she cried, and added, “and with equal + sincerity, I fear. Go your way, Monsieur Percivail. I shall keep my gauze. + Some day when we are very old people and very old friends I may then be + permitted to bandage your hands. At present, however, the risk is too + great, eh? I am so inexperience. I might by accident tie your hands in my + clumsiness, and zat—that would make so much trouble for Miss Clinton + to untie zem,—yes?” + </p> + <p> + Now there was mockery in her eyes. His face hardened. + </p> + <p> + “I must be on my way,” he said curtly. “We have been looking things over + down below. The Captain is waiting for our report.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed and started off. She swung along at his side. + </p> + <p> + “What have you discover, Mr. Percivail?” she inquired anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “That, Madame Obosky, is something that will have to come from Captain + Trigger.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. That means it is bad. I see.” + </p> + <p> + The lurching of the ship threw her body against his. She righted herself + promptly, but did not reveal the slightest confusion nor utter a word of + apology. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove, you're a cool one!” he exclaimed. “I don't believe you know the + meaning of fear. Don't you realize, Madame Obosky, that we are in the + gravest peril? Don't you know this ship has but one chance in a thousand + to pull through?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my friend, but it has the one chance, has it not? Surely I know the + meaning of fear. I am afraid of rats and snakes and thieves—and + drunken soldiers. I am afraid of death,—terribly afraid of death. + Oh, yes, I know what fear is, Mr. Percivail.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, why don't you show it now?” he cried. “Good Lord, I don't mind + confessing that I'm scared half to death. I don't want to die like this,—like + a rat in a trap.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are not going to die,” she proclaimed. “I too would be groaning + and praying in my bed if I thought we were going down to the bottom of zis + dreadful ocean. But we are not. I have no fear. We shall come out all + right on top, and some day we will laugh and tell funny stories about how + everybody else was frightened but us,—us apiece, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you're a wonder! And how the deuce do you manage to keep your feet + with the ship rolling like this?” + </p> + <p> + “Two things I have been taught, since I am ten years old. First, to keep + my head, and second to keep my feet. In my profession, one must do both. + You will always find me doing that. Good-bye,—we part here. You will + not forget zat—that I have retain the bandage for you? And you will + not ever despise me?” + </p> + <p> + As she turned away a roll that must have caused the wallowing vessel to + list thirty-five degrees at the very least, sent her headlong across the + passage. She slipped down in a heap. The same lurch had sent him reeling + against the wall some distance away. She sat up but did not at once + attempt to arise. Instead she clutched frantically at her skirt to draw it + down over her shapely ankles and calves. In the lantern light he saw the + dismayed, shamed look in her eyes and the vivid blush of embarrassment + that suffused her pale cheeks. As the ship rolled back, he moved forward + to assist her, but she sprang lightly to her feet and hurried on ahead of + him, disappearing around a corner. + </p> + <p> + “Well, by gosh!” he muttered aloud in his surprise. “And she dances half + naked before thousands of people every night! Can you beat it! The last + person in the world you'd think would care a whoop, and she turns out to + be as finicky about her legs as your grandmother. Women certainly are + queer.” + </p> + <p> + With this profound comment on the inconsistency of the sex, he took + himself off in the direction of the Captain's quarters,—a forward + cabin which served in lieu of the dismantled bridge. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <p> + He saw but little of her during the next forty-eight hours. She seemed to + avoid him. At any other time and in other circumstances he undoubtedly + would have resented her indifference,—a very common and natural + masculine failing,—but in these strenuous hours he was too fully + occupied with the affairs of life and death. Once she stopped him to + inquire if Miss Clinton was still able to dress his wounds. + </p> + <p> + “Once a day,” he replied. “She's even pluckier than you are, Madame + Obosky.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes narrowed. “Indeed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, because she believes we are going to die—every one of us. It + takes pluck to keep going when you've got that sort of thing to face, + doesn't it?” + </p> + <p> + Her gesture took in the dozen or more men within range of her vision. “It + should take no more pluck to keep a woman going than a man, my friend. You + do not call yourself plucky, do you? I do not call myself plucky. On the + contrary, I call myself a coward. I am afraid to stay in my stateroom. I + like to be out in the open like zis. One has to be very, very brave, Mr. + Percivail, to lie in one's bed all alone and think that death is waiting + just outside the thin little walls. Miss Clinton is splendid, but she is + not plucky. She is as I am: afraid of the darkness, afraid to be alone, + afraid to be where she cannot know and see all zat is happening. She has a + woman's courage, just as I have it,—if you please. It is the courage + that depends so much on the courage of others. You think I am brave. I am + brave because I am with trained, efficient men. But if the Captain were to + come to me now as I stand here, and say zat the ship is to sink in ten + minutes and that we all must go down with her, would I face it bravely? + No! I would throw myself down on the floor and scream and pray and tear my + hair. Why? Because the men had given up. I am kept up by the courage of + others. That is the courage of woman. She must be supported in her pain, + in her suffering, in her courage.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you put it that way, there are very few men who would take such + an announcement from the Captain calmly.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not, my friend. But if there were room for but few in the boats, + who would stay behind and go down with the ship? Nine out of every ten of + the men. Why? Not because they are all courageous, I grant you, but + because of the horrible conceit that makes them our masters. Pride and + conceit constitute what stands for courage in most men. The wild animal + has no conceit, he has no pride. Does the male lion rush out to be shot in + place of his mate? He do not. He sneaks off in the high reeds and leaves + her to take care of herself. The Captain of this steamer is so full of + pride zat he will stay on it till it goes under the wave. It is not + courage, Mr. Percivail. It is his pride in the power zat—that God + has give to his sex. These men here,—you, my friend,—face the + danger now so unflinching for why? Because for ages and ages you have + believe in and depend upon the man beside you, the men around you. Zat is + the difference between man and woman. Woman believes in and depends on + man. She has no faith in her own sex. So, you see, my friend, when I say I + am brave and you say Miss Clinton is plucky, it is all because we have men + about us who are so proud and conceited zat they will die before they will + admit that they are not as helpless and as weak as we are in times like + zis.” + </p> + <p> + “You may be right,” he mused, struck by her argument. “It's usually pride + that makes a man stand up and fight another, even when he knows he's sure + to be beaten. It's neither confidence nor courage. It's just plain fear of + being a coward.” + </p> + <p> + “You will admit then that I understand the wonderful male animal which + struts on two legs and rules all the other animals of the world, eh? It is + the only animal in the whole big world zat—that is completely + satisfied with itself. So now, Mr. Percivail, you have the secret of the + so-called courage of the male of our species.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope all women haven't gone into the subject so deeply,” he said, with + a rueful smile. “You make rather small potatoes of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, do not say that,” she cried, “for, alas, I am denied potatoes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” he said, laughing, “if all women understood us as well as + you do, we wouldn't rule the world very much longer. They'd yank us off + the pedestal and revile us forevermore.” + </p> + <p> + “But you do not understand women, my friend. Did we not bring you into the + world? Are you not our sons, and therefore begotten to be kings? We may + despise our husbands, we may loathe our brothers and our fathers, we + women, but our sons are the gods we worship. My dear Mr. Percivail, women + will go on being ruled to the end of time unless they cease populating the + world with sons. The mother of the man is the humblest subject of the son + and yet the proudest. The mothers of kings, of emperors, of presidents,—do + they think of them as kings, emperors, presidents? No. They think of them + as sons. That is why man is supreme. That is why he rules. To be sure, we + women are not always disposed to have our husbands rule, we even go so far + as to say they are not fit to rule, but alas, the men we are permitted to + know the best of all are always the sons of some one else, and so there + you have the endless chain. Sons! Sons! Sons! Sons to create new sons,—sons + without end, amen! God bless our sons!” + </p> + <p> + “And I say God bless our mothers!” + </p> + <p> + “In that one little sentence, Mr. Percivail, spoke from the heart, you + have reveal the secret history of the world. You have account for + everything.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a million years old, Madame Obosky,” he said, looking into her + deep, unfathomable eyes. + </p> + <p> + She smiled. “So? And which of my sons, Mr. Percivail, do you think I love + the most? Cain or Abel?” + </p> + <p> + “It would take a woman to answer that question. There's one thing certain, + however. You loved both of them more than you loved Adam.” + </p> + <p> + “True. But I followed Adam out of the Garden of Eden and I have never left + his heels from zat day to this. What more could any man ask?” + </p> + <p> + On the second morning after the storm, the lookout fixed his straining + eyes on a far-distant, shadowy line that had not been a part of the + boundless horizon the day before. Dawn was breaking, night was lifting her + sheet from the new-born day. He waited. He could not be sure. Minutes that + seemed like hours passed. Then suddenly his hoarse shout rose out of the + silence: + </p> + <p> + “Land ho!” + </p> + <p> + Down into the heart of the ship boomed the cry, taken from the lookout's + lips by one after another of the weary men below. The sweating, exhausted + toilers who manned the pumps paused for a moment, then fell to work again + revitalized. Out from the cabins, up from every nook and corner of the + ship scrambled the excited horde, fully dressed, their faces haggard with + doubt, their eyes aglow with joy. Land! In every round little window + gleamed a face,—for a moment only along the portside. Nothing but + the same endless ocean on the port side of the ship. Water! Sick and + wounded drew themselves up to the portholes and peered out from their + cells for the first time. + </p> + <p> + “Where?... Where?” ran the wild, eager cry of the scurrying throng, and + there was disappointment—bitter disappointment in their voices. They + had been tricked. There was no land in sight! The glasses of the ship's + officers, clustered far forward, were directed toward some point off the + starboard bow, but if there was land over there it was not visible to the + naked eye. A junior engineer saluted Captain Trigger and left the group. + </p> + <p> + “There is land ahead,—a long way off,” he announced as he passed + through the throng in the saloon deck. + </p> + <p> + Up above the clamour of questions shouted from all sides as the crazed + people flocked behind the messenger of hope, rose the voice of Morris + Shine. + </p> + <p> + “Land ahoy! Ahoy-yoy-yoy!” he yelled over and over again, his chin raised + like that of a dog baying at the moon. + </p> + <p> + Every person on deck was either carrying a life-belt or was already + encased in one. Grim orders of the night just past. Here and there were to + be seen men who clutched tightly the handles of suitcases and kit bags! + Evidently they were expecting to step ashore at once. In any case, they + belonged to the class of people who never fail to crowd their way down the + gang-plank ahead of every one else. The fashionable ocean liners always + have quite a number of these on board, invariably in the first cabin. + </p> + <p> + Percival ranged the decks in quest of Ruth Clinton. She was well aft on + the boat deck, where the rail was not so crowded as it was forward. Her + arm was about the drooping, pathetic figure of her aunt. They were staring + intently out over the water,—the girl's figure erect, vibrant, alive + with the spirit of youth, her companion's sagging under the doubt and + scepticism of age. He hesitated a moment before accosting them. + Nicklestick, the Jew, was excitedly retailing the news to them. He went so + far as to declare that he could see land quite clearly,—and so could + they if they would only look exactly where he was pointing. He claimed to + have been one of the very first men on board to see the land. + </p> + <p> + Ruth was hatless. Her braided brown hair had been coiled so hastily, so + thoughtlessly that stray strands fell loose about her neck and ears to be + blown gaily by the breeze across her cheek. Her blouse was open at the + neck, her blue serge jacket flared in the wind. Every vestige of the warm, + soft colour had left her face. She was deathly pale with emotion. + </p> + <p> + Percival was suddenly conscious of a mist bedimming his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Several people were grouped near them at the rail, listening to + Nicklestick. The stowaway joined them. As if sensing his presence, Ruth + turned suddenly and saw him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she cried, tremulously. “Have—have you seen it, Mr. Percival?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied. “It won't be visible for an hour or so longer. It's off + there all right, though. The lookout, Captain Trigger and several others + got a glimpse of it before the sun began to pull the mist up to obscure it + for a little while. That's mist over there,” he went on, turning to + Nicklestick. “You couldn't see the Andes Mountains if they were where that + strip of land is hidden. It won't be long, Miss Clinton, before we all can + see it.” + </p> + <p> + “How far away is it?” she asked, controlling her voice with an effort. “Do + they know? Can they estimate?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what let's do,” he said abruptly. “Let's go up on the sun + deck. I've got Mr. Gray's glasses. We can see better up there. Let me + assist you, Mrs. Spofford. The sun deck is pretty badly smashed up and + littered with all sorts of wreckage, but we can manage it all right.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Spofford looked at him intently for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I remember you now,” she said. “Are you sure,—are you positive + there is land over there?” + </p> + <p> + “I have Captain Trigger's word for it.” + </p> + <p> + “And mine, too,” added Mr. Nicklestick. “You may rest assured, Mrs. + Spofford, that we will all be on dry land before many hours.” + </p> + <p> + Percival leaned close to the speaker and said in a very low but emphatic + tone: + </p> + <p> + “You don't know a damn thing about it, so keep your trap closed. If you're + a man, you won't go on raising false hopes in the breasts of these women.” + </p> + <p> + Nicklestick's jaw fell. He whispered: + </p> + <p> + “My God,—ain't we—you don't mean to say there is a chance we + won't be able to—” + </p> + <p> + But Percival had turned away with the two women. Mrs. Spofford took his + arm, leaning heavily against him. Her figure had straightened, however. He + had given her the needed confidence. + </p> + <p> + They made their way up the steps leading to the topmost deck. Others had + already preceded them. A dozen men and women were looking out over the sea + through their binoculars. They recognized Landover, Madame Careni-Amori + (clutching her jewel case), Joseppi, Fitts and one or two more. Olga + Obosky was well forward, seated on the edge of a partially wrecked + skylight and ventilator. Her three dancing girls were with her, closely + grouped. + </p> + <p> + Percival purposely remained near the steps. He knew full well that the + ship's hours were numbered. It was only a question of time when she would + founder. In the lee of one of the big stacks they huddled close together + and waited for the lifting of the veil. The wind was soft but strong up + there at the top of the vessel. He took hope in the fact that it was + blowing toward the shores of that unseen land, and that slowly but surely + the Doraine was drifting thither. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, as if a curtain were being raised, a far-off line appeared on + the surface of the waters. Higher rose the curtain, and like magic the + line developed into an irregular ridge, the ends of which sank below the + horizon far to the right and left. + </p> + <p> + Percival felt the girl's hand on his arm. He shot a swift glance at her + face. It was turned away. She staring at the mystic panorama that was + being unveiled off there on the rim of the world. Her eyes were bright, + her lips were parted in the ecstasy of hope revived, she was breathing + deeply. The pulse in her smooth white neck was beating rapidly, + rythmically. He could see it. He laid his bandaged hand firmly upon hers + and pressed it tightly to his arm. She did not look around. Her every + thought was centred upon the unfolding vision. + </p> + <p> + “There are trees,” she murmured, enthralled. “Trees,—and hills! See, + Auntie,—but oh, how far away they are!” + </p> + <p> + For many minutes they stood there without speaking. Then from all sides + came the clamour of voices,—shouts of joy, cheers,—laughter! + She looked down at the clumsy object that imprisoned her hand, then + swiftly up into his eyes. A warm flush spread over her face. + </p> + <p> + “I—I couldn't help it,” he muttered. “It—it looked so + helpless.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't half as helpless as yours, Mr. Percival,” she said, and smiled. + She waited a moment before withdrawing her hand. “May I have the glasses, + please? Had you forgotten them?” + </p> + <p> + “Completely,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + Later, while Mrs. Spofford was peering through the glasses, she drew him + aside. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about the water in the hold,” she said in a low tone. “Is it + serious?” + </p> + <p> + He looked grave. “Very. If you will take a peep over the side of the ship, + you'll see how low down she is in the water.” + </p> + <p> + “My aunt doesn't know the ship is leaking,” she went on, hurriedly. “I + want to keep it from her as long as possible.” He nodded his head. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mott figures we'll stay afloat for ten or twelve hours,—maybe + longer. I will see to it that you and Mrs. Spofford get into one of the + boats in case we—well, just in case, you know. We will be given + ample warning, Miss Clinton. Things don't look as hopeless as they did + last night.” He pointed toward the land. “It looks like heaven, doesn't + it?” + </p> + <p> + Her face clouded. “But only a very few of us may—” she stopped, + shuddering. + </p> + <p> + “You poor little girl!” he cried brokenly. He steadied himself and went + on: “It wouldn't surprise me in the least if every blessed one of us got + safely ashore.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not believe that, Mr. Percival. I can tell by the look in your + eyes. I want you to promise me one thing. If we have to take to the boats, + you will come with us—” + </p> + <p> + He drew himself up. “My dear Miss Clinton, there is quite a difference + between being a stowaway on an ocean liner and being one in a lifeboat. I + have no standing on this ship. I have no right in one of her boats. I am + the very last person on board to be considered.” + </p> + <p> + She looked searchingly into his eyes, her own wide with comprehension. + “You mean you will make no effort to leave the ship until every one else + is—” + </p> + <p> + He checked her with a gesture of his hand. “I may be one of the first to + leave. But I'll not rob any one else of his place in a boat or his space + on one of those rafts. I'll swim for it.” + </p> + <p> + Slowly the land crept down upon the Doraine. The illusion was startling. + The ship seemed to be lying absolutely motionless; it was the land that + approached instead of the other way round. A thin white beach suddenly + emerged from the green background to the left, to the right an ugly mass + of rocks took shape, stretching as far as the eye could reach. Farther + inland rose high, tree covered hills, green as emeralds in the blazing + sunlight. On a sea of turquoise lolled the listless Doraine. + </p> + <p> + Soundings were taken from time to time. Even the bottom of the ocean was + coming up to meet the Doraine. Its depth appreciably lessened with each + successive measurement. From fifty fathoms it had decreased to ten since + the first line was dropped. + </p> + <p> + At four o'clock, Captain Trigger ordered a boat lowered and manned by a + picked crew in charge of the Second Engineer. The Doraine was about five + miles off shore at the time, and was drifting with a noticeably increased + speed directly toward the rock-bound coast. He had hoped she would go + aground in the shallow waters off the sandy beach, but there was now no + chance that such a piece of good fortune was in store for her. She was + going straight for the huge black rocks. + </p> + <p> + The boat's crew rowed in for observations. Even before they returned to + report, the anxious officers on board the vessel had made out a narrow + fissure in the rocky coast line. They assumed that it was the mouth of a + small river. The Second Engineer brought back the astonishing information + that this opening in the coast was the gateway to a channel that in his + judgment split the island into two distinct sections. That it was not the + mouth of a river was made clear by the presence of a current so strong + that his men had to exert themselves to the utmost to prevent the boat + being literally sucked into the channel by the powerful tide, which + apparently was at its full. This opening,—the water rushed into it + so swiftly that he was satisfied it developed into a gorge farther back + from the coast,—was approximately two hundred yards wide, flanked on + either side by low lying, formidable bastions of rock. The water was not + more than fifty feet deep off the entrance to the channel. + </p> + <p> + Gradually the prow of the Doraine swung around and pointed straight for + the cleft in the shore. The ship, two miles out, had responded to the + insidious pressure of the current and was being drawn toward the rocks,—at + first so slowly that there was scarcely a ripple off her bows; then, as + she lumbered onward, she began to turn over the water as a ploughshare + turns over the land. + </p> + <p> + At precisely six o'clock she slid between the rocky portals and entered a + canal so straight and true that it might have been drilled and blasted out + of the earth under the direction of the most skilful engineers in the + world. + </p> + <p> + Soundings were hastily taken. Discovering that the water was not deep + enough even at high tide to submerge the vessel when the inevitable came + to pass and she sank to the bottom, Captain Trigger renewed his efforts to + release the anchor chains, which had been caught and jammed in the + wreckage. He realized the vital necessity for checking the Doraine in her + flight before she accomplished the miracle of passing unhindered through + the channel and out into the open sea beyond. The swiftness of the current + indicated plainly enough that this natural canal was of no great length. + </p> + <p> + The ship slid on between the tree lined banks. The trees were of the + temperate zone, with spreading limbs, thick foliage and hardy trunks. + There were no palms visible, but in the rarely occurring open spaces a + large shrub abounded. This was instantly recognized by Percival, who + proclaimed it to be the algaroba, a plant commonly found on the Gran Chaco + in Argentina. While the woodland was thick there was nothing about it to + suggest the tropical jungle with its impenetrable fastnesses. + </p> + <p> + The keel of the half-sunken Doraine was scraping ominously on the bed of + the channel. She shivered and swerved from frequent contact with submerged + rocks, but held her course with uncanny steadiness, while every soul on + board gazed with stark, despairing eyes at the land which mocked them as + they passed. Far on ahead loomed the lofty hills, and beyond them lay—What? + The ocean? + </p> + <p> + Gradually the passage widened. Its depth also increased. The ship no + longer scraped the bottom, she no longer caromed off the sunken rocks. On + the other hand, water poured into her interior with increasing force and + volume, indicating a disastrous rent forward. She was sloshing along + toward the centre of a basin which appeared to be half a mile wide and not + more than a mile long. Directly ahead of her the hills came down to meet + the water. A dark narrow cut, with towering sides, indicated an outlet for + the tiny, inland sea. This gorge, toward which the Doraine was being + resistlessly drawn, appeared to be but little wider than the ship itself. + </p> + <p> + Almost in the shadow of the hills, and within a dozen ship-lengths of the + sinister opening, the worn, exhausted, beaten Doraine came to rest at the + end of her final voyage. She shivered and groaned under the jarring + impact, forged onward half her length, heeled over slightly—and + died! She was anchored for ever in the tiny landlocked sea, proud + leviathan whose days had been spent in the boundless reaches of the open + deep. + </p> + <p> + And here for the centuries to come would lie the proud Doraine, guided to + her journey's end by the pilot Chance, moored for all time in the + strangest haven ever put into by man. + </p> + <p> + Behind the stranded vessel stretched centuries incalculable, and in all + these centuries no man had entered here. Screened from the rest of the + world, untended by chortling tugs, unheralded by raucous sirens, welcomed + only by primeval solitude, the Doraine had come to rest. + </p> + <p> + She settled down on her bed of rocks to sleep for evermore, a mottled + monster whose only covering was the night; indifferent to storm and calm, + to time and tide, to darkness and light, she sat serene in her little sea. + Her lofty walls towered high above the waves that broke tremblingly + against them, as if afraid of this strange object from another world that + could rest upon the bottom of the ocean and yet be so far above them. + </p> + <p> + Reported “Lost with all on board!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <p> + Captain Trigger and a dozen men stood on the boat deck with guns and + revolvers, facing several hundred sullen, determined men and women from + the steerage. Night had not yet fallen; the shadow of the hills, however, + was reaching half way across the oval pool; gloom impenetrable had settled + on the wooded shores. + </p> + <p> + With the striking of the Doraine, nearly every one on board was hurled to + the decks. As she heeled over five or six degrees in settling herself + among the rocks, a panic ensued among the ignorant people of the steerage. + They scrambled to their feet and made a rush for the boats, shouting and + screaming in their terror. Other passengers were trampled under foot and + sailors standing by the davits were hurled aside. + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger, anticipating just such a stampede, rushed up with members + of the gun crew. The gaunt, broken old master of the Doraine drove the + horde back from the boats, but as he stood there haranguing them in good + maritime English he could see plainly enough that they were not to be so + easily subdued. The first panic was over, but they were crazed by the fear + that had gripped them for days; they believed that the ship was soon to + sink beneath their feet; safety lay not more than a hundred yards away,—and + it was being denied them by this heartless, unfeeling despot. + </p> + <p> + They were mainly low-caste Portuguese bound for Rio and Bahia, and they + had obeyed him through all those tortuous days out on the deep where he + was the shepherd and they the flock. But now,—now they could well + afford to turn upon and rend him, for he had brought them safe to land and + they no longer owed him anything! + </p> + <p> + “My God, I don't want to shoot any of them,” groaned the Captain, + steadying himself against the rail. “But they've got guns, and they're + crazy. I—” + </p> + <p> + Some one touched his arm, and a firm, decisive voice spoke in his ear. + </p> + <p> + “I'm used to handling gangs like this, Captain Trigger. They don't + understand you, but they'll damn soon understand me, if you'll turn the + job over to me. I'm not trying to be officious, sir, and I'm not even + hinting that you can't bring 'em to their senses. I know how to handle 'em + and you don't, that's all. They're not sailors, you see. And it isn't + mutiny. They need a boss, sir,—that's what they need. And they need + him damned quick, so if you don't mind saying the word,—they're + ready to make a rush, and if—” + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead, Percival,—if you can hold them—” + </p> + <p> + “Say no more!” shouted Percival, and stepped resolutely forward. His hands + were bare,—swollen, red and ugly; his eyes were as cold as steel, + his voice as sharp as a keen-edged sword. He spoke in Spanish to the + wavering, threatening horde. + </p> + <p> + “You damned, sneaking, low-lived cowards! What sort of swine are you? Have + you no thought for the women you've trampled upon and beaten out of your + path,—your own women, as well as the others,—think of them and + ask yourselves if you are men. I'm in command of this ship now, and, by + God, I'm going to let you get into those boats and start for shore. Don't + cheer! You don't know what's coming to you. I'm going to turn that cannon + on you up there and blow every one of you to hell and gone before you get + fifty feet from the side of this ship. You don't believe that, eh? Well, + that's exactly what I'm going to do. Lieutenant Platt!” He called over his + shoulder in English to the young commander of the gun's crew. “Get some of + your men up there and train that gun so as to blow these boats to + smithereens. Quick!” In a half-whisper to the Captain: “It's all right. I + know what I'm talking about.” Then to the crowd: “We don't want you on + board this ship a minute longer than we can help. We've got no room for + dogs here among decent white men and women. Do you understand that? We + don't want to have anything more to do with you, either here or on shore. + I'm going to wipe you out, every damned one of you,—men women and + children. You're not fit to live. You're going to climb into those boats + now and get off this ship. You'll never realize how safe you are here till + you get down there in the water and hear that gun go off. Come on! Get a + move! We're through with you, now and for ever. Nobody's going to stop + you. I'm even going to have the boats lowered for you, so as not to delay + matters.” He shouted after Lieutenant Platt: “Be lively, please. You've + got your orders. We'll make short work of this pack of wolves.” To Captain + Trigger, authoritatively: “Withdraw your men, sir. I am going to let them + leave the ship. At once, sir! Do you mean to disobey me, sir?” He gave the + captain a sly wink. + </p> + <p> + Then as the bewildered master withdrew with his armed men, he turned once + more to the mob. “Come on! Step lively, now! No rushing! Take your turn. + Every blasted one of you, I mean. What the hell are you hanging back for,—you? + You were so darned eager to go a little while ago, what's the matter with + you now? No one's trying to stop you. Here are the boats. Put up your guns + and knives, and pile in. You're absolutely free to go, you swine. We'll be + damned good and rid of you, and that's all we're asking. It's a pity to + waste powder and cannon-balls on you, when we may have use for all we've + got later on, killing the lions and tigers and anacondas up there in the + woods, but I'm going to do it.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped back. Not a man or woman moved. They stood transfixed, packed + in a huddled mass along the deck. Then a woman cried out for mercy. The + cry was taken up by other women. Percival halted and faced them once more. + </p> + <p> + “Get into those boats!” he roared savagely. “It won't do you a bit of good + to whine and pray and squeal. I'm through with you. You've got to—Well?” + </p> + <p> + Several of the men edged forward, some of them trying to smile. + </p> + <p> + “Would you kill us when we are only trying to save our lives?” called out + one of them, finding his courage and voice. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to talk to you. Get in!” + </p> + <p> + “We have as much right to remain on this ship as anybody else,” shouted + another. “We paid for our passage. We are honest, hard-working—” + </p> + <p> + “No use! I'll give you ten minutes to climb into those boats.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's silence. “And what will you do if we refuse to leave + the ship?” cried one of the men. + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet!” he bawled at the whimpering women. “We cannot hear what the + gentleman has to say.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll soon find out what I'll do, if you don't obey me inside of ten + minutes,” replied Percival. + </p> + <p> + “But the ship is not going to sink any more,” protested another, looking + over the rail timidly. “She is safe. We do not wish to leave now.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger and Mr. Mott joined Percival. In an undertone he told them + what he had said to the mob. + </p> + <p> + “And now, gentlemen,” he whispered in conclusion, “it's up to you to + intercede in their behalf. They're as tame as rabbits now. They know the + ship's all right, and they believe I intend to blow 'em to pieces if they + once put off in the boats. Start in now, Captain, and argue with me. Plead + for them. They know who I am. They know I come from the hills and they + think I'm a bloodthirsty devil. They're like a lot of cattle. Most of them + are simple, honest, God-fearing people,—and if we handle them + properly now we'll not have much trouble with them in the future. And only + the Good Lord knows what the future is going to bring.” + </p> + <p> + So the three of them argued, two against one. Finally Percival threw up + his hands in a gesture of complete surrender. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Captain. I give in. Perhaps you are right. I suppose it would + be butchery.” + </p> + <p> + There were a few in the crowd who understood English. These edged forward + eagerly, hopefully. They called out protestations against the “slaughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell them you have reconsidered, Mr. Percival,” said the Captain. “They + are to remain on board.” + </p> + <p> + Excited shouts went up from the few who understood, and then the word went + among the others that they were to be spared. There were cries of relief, + joy, gratitude, and not a few fell upon their knees! + </p> + <p> + Percival stood forth once more. Silence fell upon the throng. + </p> + <p> + “The Captain has put in a plea for you, and I have decided to grant it. + You may remain on board. Now, listen to me! No one is to leave this ship + until tomorrow morning. We are safe here. We are stuck fast on the bottom, + and nothing can happen to us at present. Tomorrow we will see what is best + to be done. Every man and woman here is to return to the task he was given + by Mr. Mott at the beginning of our troubles. We've got to eat, and sleep, + and—Wait a minute! Well, all right,—beat it, if you feel that + way about it.” + </p> + <p> + He stood watching them as they excitedly withdrew toward the bow of the + ship, breaking up into clattering groups, all of them talking at once. + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger laid his hand on the young man's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “If it had not been for you, Percival, this deck would now be red with + blood,—and some of us would be dead. You saved a very ticklish + situation. I take off my hat to you, and I say, with a full heart, that I + shall never again doubt your ability to handle men. No one but an American + could have tricked that mob as you did, my lad.” + </p> + <p> + From various points of vantage the foregoing scene had been witnessed by + uneasy, alarmed persons from upper cabins. Overwhelmed and dismayed by the + rush of the yelling mob, the elect had fled for safety, urged by a greater + fear than any that had gone before,—the fear of rioting men. + </p> + <p> + A few of them, more daring and inquisitive than the rest, had ventured + recklessly into the zone of danger. Among them were Ruth Clinton and + Madame Olga Obosky, who, disregarding the command of Mr. Mott, were the + only women to venture beyond the protecting corner of the deck building. + They stood side by side, bracing themselves against the downward slope of + the deck. Half-way forward were Trigger and the armed gunners, and beyond + them the dense, irresolute mass of humanity. Percival, in rounding the + corner to go to the assistance of Captain Trigger, observed with dismay + the exposed position in which the two women had placed themselves. He + paused to cry out to them sharply: + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here? Get back to the other side. Can't you see there + is likely to be shooting? Don't stand there like a couple of idiots! + You're right in line if that gang begins to fire.” + </p> + <p> + “He is tearing off his bandages,” cried Ruth, as Percival hurried on. + </p> + <p> + Madame Obosky was silent, her gaze fixed intently on the brisk, aggressive + figure of the man who had called them idiots. She understood every word he + uttered to the Portuguese. Her eyes glistened with pride when he stepped + forward to tackle the mob single-handed, and as he went on with his + astonishing speech she actually broke into a soft giggle. Her companion + looked at her in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you laugh?” she demanded hotly. “Those dreadful creatures may tear + him to pieces. He is unarmed and defenceless. They could sweep him—” + </p> + <p> + “You would laugh also if you understood,” interrupted Olga, her eyes + dancing. “Oh, what a grand—what do you call it?—bluff? What a + magnificent bluff he is doing! It is beautiful. See,—they whisper + among themselves,—they have back down completely. Wait! I will + presently tell you what he have said to them.” + </p> + <p> + “I never dreamed any man could be so fearless. Look at the odds against + him. There are scores of them,—and they—” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! Do you suppose he would stand up and fight them if they rushed at + him? Not he! He would turn and run as fast as he could. He is no fool, my + dear. He is a very intelligent man. So he would run if they make a single + move toward him.” + </p> + <p> + “I think this is rather a poor time to accuse him of cowardice, Madame + Obosky, in view of what he—” + </p> + <p> + “Have I accused him of cowardice?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to know what you call it. You say he would run if they—” + </p> + <p> + “But that would not be cowardice. It would be the simplest kind of common + sense. He is so very sure of himself. It is not courage. It is confidence. + That is his strength. He would be a fool to stand in front of them + empty-handed if they were to charge upon him. Maybe when you have known + him as long as I have, you will realize he is not a fool,—about + himself or any one else.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth stared at her. “Unless I am greatly mistaken, Madame Obosky, I have + known Mr. Percival as long if not longer than you have.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not know him at all,” rejoined the Russian brusquely. “Be still, + please! I must hear what he is saying to them now.” A little later she + turned to the American girl and laid her hand on her arm. “For-give me, if + I was rude to you. I am so very much older than you that I—how old + are you, Miss Clinton?” + </p> + <p> + “I am twenty-five,” replied the other, surprised into replying. + </p> + <p> + “And I am twenty-six,” said Madame Obosky, as if she were at least twice + the age of her companion. “See! They are dispersing. It's all over. Come! + Let us go back to the other side.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not ready to go back to the other side,” protested the American + girl, resisting the hand on her arm. “Why should we go back, now that the + danger is over?” + </p> + <p> + “Because we must not let him catch us here,” urged Olga in some agitation. + </p> + <p> + “And why not, pray?” + </p> + <p> + The Russian looked at her in astonishment. “But surely you heard him tell + us to go back to the other side. You heard him call us idiots, Miss + Clinton?” + </p> + <p> + And Ruth Clinton suffered herself to be hurried incontinently around the + corner of the deck building. + </p> + <p> + “Once, in Moscow, I saw a Grand Duke confront a mob of students who had + gathered in the street near his house. They were armed and they had come + to destroy this man himself. There were hundreds of them. He walked + straight toward them, his head erect, his shoulders squared, and when they + stopped he spoke to them as if they were dogs. When he had finished, he + turned his back upon them and walked away. They might have filled him with + bullets,—but they did not fire a shot. At the corner he entered his + carriage and disappeared. And then what did he do? He fainted, that Grand + Duke, he did. Fainted like a stupid, silly young girl. But while he was + standing before zat—-that mob of terrorists he was the strongest man + in Russia. Nevertheless, he was afraid of them. You have therefore the + curious spectacle to perceive, Miss Clinton, of one man being afraid of + hundreds, and of hundreds of men at the same time being afraid of one. + Man, he is a queer animal, eh?” + </p> + <p> + It was not long before the doubts and fears of all on board the Doraine + gave way to a strange, unnatural state of exhilaration. It represented joy + without happiness, relief without security, exultation without conviction,—for, + after all, there still remained unanswered the question that robbed every + sensation of its thrill. While they were singing the hymns of thanksgiving + in the saloon that night, and listening to the fervent prayers; while they + ate, drank and were merry, their thoughts were not of the day but of the + morrow. What of the morrow? In the eyes of every one who laughed and sang + dwelt the unchanging shadow of anxiety; on every face was stamped an + expression that spoke more plainly than words the doubts and misgivings + that constituted the background of their jubilation. They had escaped the + sea, but would they ever escape the land? Had God, in answer to their + complaints and prayers, directed them to a land from which the hand of man + would never rescue them? Were they isolated here in the untraversed + southern seas, cast upon an island unknown to the rest of the world? Or + were they, on the other hand, within reach of human agencies by which the + world might be made acquainted with their plight? + </p> + <p> + Uppermost in every mind was the sickening recollection, however, that for + days they had ranged the sea without sighting a single craft. They were + far from the travelled lanes, they were out of the worth-while world. Hope + rested solely on the possibility that the hills and forests hid from view + the houses and wharves of a desolate little sea-town set up by the + far-reaching people of the British Isles. + </p> + <p> + The story of Percival's achievement was not long in going the rounds. It + went through the customary process of elaboration. By the time it reached + his ears,—through the instrumentality of Mr. Morris Shine, the + motion picture magnate,—it had assumed sufficient magnitude to draw + from that enterprising gentleman a bona fide offer of quite a large sum + for the film rights in case Mr. Percival would agree to re-enact the + thrilling scene later on. In fact, Mr. Shine, having recovered his + astuteness and his courage simultaneously, was already working at the + preliminary details of the most “stupendous” picture ever conceived by + man. His deepest lament now was that he had neglected to bring a good + camera man down from New York, so that on the day of the explosion he + could have “got” the people actually jumping overboard, and drowning in + plain sight—(although he did not see them because of the trouble he + was having to get a seat in one of the life-boats),—and the wounded + scattered over the decks, the fire, the devastation, the departure and + return of the boats, the storm and all that followed, including himself in + certain judiciously preserved scenes, and the whole production could have + been made at practically no cost at all. There never had been such an + opportunity, complained Mr. Shine the moment he felt absolutely certain + that the opportunity was a thing of the past. + </p> + <p> + “No wonder he got away with it,” said Mr. Landover to a group of + rejuvenated satellites. “He is hand in glove with them, that fellow is. I + wouldn't trust him around the corner. Why, it's perfectly plain to anybody + with a grain of intelligence that he's the leader of that gang of + anarchists. All he had to do was to speak to them,—in their own + language, mind you,—and back they slunk to their quarters. They + obeyed him because he is their chosen leader, and that's all there is to + this—What say, Fitts?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fitts, who was not a satellite but a very irritating Christian + gentleman, cleared his throat and said: + </p> + <p> + “I didn't speak, Mr. Landover. I always make a noise like that when I + yawn. It's an awfully middle-class habit I've gotten into. Still, don't + you think one obtains a little more—shall we say enjoyment?—a + little more enjoyment out of a yawn if he lets go and puts his whole soul + into it? Of course, it isn't really necessary to utter the 'hi-ho-hum!' + quite so vociferously as I do,—in fact, it might even be better to + omit it altogether,—if possible,—when some one else is + speaking. There are, I grant you, other ways of expressing one's complete + mastery of the art of yawning, such as a prolonged but audible sigh, or a + sort of muffled howl, or even a series of blissful little shrieks peculiar + to the feminine of the species,—any one of these, I admit, is a + trifle more elegant and up-to-date, but they all lack the splendid + resonance,—you might even say grandiloquence,—of the + old-fashioned 'hi-ho-hum!' to which I am addicted. Now, if you will + consider—” + </p> + <p> + “My God!” exclaimed the banker, with a positively venomous emphasis on the + name of the Deity. “Who wants to know anything about yawns?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fitts looked hurt. “I am sorry. My mistake. I thought you were trying + to change the subject when you interrupted my yawn.” + </p> + <p> + “That fellow's a damn' fool,” said the banker, as Fitts strolled off to + join another group. + </p> + <p> + “Try one of these cigars, Mr. Landover,” said Mr. Nicklestick + persuasively. “Of course, they're nothing like the kind you smoke, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Is mine out? So it is. No, thank you. I'll take a match, however, if you + have one about you.” + </p> + <p> + Four boxes were hastily thrust upon the great financier. + </p> + <p> + “Haf you noticed how poor the matches are lately, Mr. Landover?” + complained Mr. Block. + </p> + <p> + “As for this vagabond being superintendent of a mining concession up in + Bolivia,” continued Landover, absentmindedly sticking Mr. Nicklestick's + precious, box of matches into his own pocket, “that's all poppycock. He's + an out-and-out adventurer. You can't fool me. I've handled too many men in + my time. I sized him up right from the start. But the devil of it is, he's + got all the officers on this boat hypnotized. And most of the women too. I + made it a point to speak to Mrs. Spofford and her niece about him this + morning,—and the poor girl has been making quite a fool of herself + over him, you may have observed. Mrs. Spofford owns quite a block of stock + in our institution, so I considered it my duty to put a flea in her ear, + if you see what I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. Nicklestick. + </p> + <p> + “She should have been very grateful,” said Mr. Block. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Landover frowned. “I'm going to speak to her again as soon as she has + regained her strength and composure. Nerves all shot to pieces, you + understand. Everything distorted,—er—shot to pieces, as I say. + I dare say I should have had more sense than to—er—ahem!—two + or three days' rest, that's what she needs, poor thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely,” said Mr. Nicklestick. + </p> + <p> + “You can't tell a woman anything when she's upset,” said Mr. Block, + feelingly. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Clinton is a very charming young lady,” said Mr. Nicklestick, giving + his moustache a slight twist. “I should hate to see her lose her head over + a fellow like him.” + </p> + <p> + “She is a splendid girl,” said Landover warmly. “One of the oldest + families in New York. She deserves nothing but the best.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right, that's right,” assented Mr. Nicklestick. “I don't know when + I've met a more charming young lady, Mr. Landover.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know you had met her,” observed the banker coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” replied Mr. Nicklestick. “We were in the same lifeboat, Mr. + Landover, you know,—all night, you know, Mr. Landover.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <p> + Early the next morning, Percival turned out long before there were any + sounds from the galley or dining-room. The sun had not yet cleared the + tree-tops to the east; the decks of the Doraine were still wet with dew. A + few sailors were abroad; a dull-eyed junior officer moodily picked his way + through the debris on the forward deck. Birds were singing and chattering + in the trees that lined the shore; down at the water's edge, like + sentinels on duty, with an eye always upon the strange, gigantic intruder, + strutted a number of stately, bright-plumaged birds of the flamingo + variety—(doubtless they were flamingoes); the blue surface of the + basin was sprinkled with the myriad white, gleaming backs of winged + fishermen, diving, flapping, swirling; on high, far above the hills, + soared two or three huge birds with wings outspread and rigid, monarchs of + all that they surveyed. The stowaway leaned on the port rail and fixed his + gaze upon the crest of the severed hill, apparently the tallest of the + half dozen or so that were visible from his position. + </p> + <p> + With powerful glasses he studied the wooded slope. This hill was probably + twelve or fourteen hundred feet high. He thought of it as a hill, for he + had lived long in the heart of the towering Andes. Behind him lay the belt + of woodland that separated the basin from the open sea, a scant league + away. The cleft through the hill lay almost directly ahead. It's walls + apparently were perpendicular; a hundred feet or less from the pinnacle, + the opening spread out considerably, indicating landslides at some remote + period, the natural sloughing off of earth and stone in the formation of + this narrow, unnatural passage through the very centre of the little + mountain. For at least a thousand feet, however, the sides of the passage + rose as straight as a wall. That the mountain was of solid rock could not + be doubted after a single glance at those sturdy, unflinching walls, black + and sheer. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you make of it?” inquired a voice at his elbow. He turned + to find Mr. Mott standing beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Earthquake,” he replied. “Thousands of years ago, of course. Split the + island completely in two.” + </p> + <p> + “Sounds plausible,” mused the First Officer. “But if that is the case, how + do you account for the shallowness of the water in the passage and out + here in the basin? An earthquake violent enough to split that hill would + make a crack in the earth a thousand fathoms deep.” + </p> + <p> + “I have an idea that if we took soundings in this basin we'd find a + section twenty or thirty feet wide in the centre of it where we couldn't + touch bottom. The same would be true of the passage if we plumbed the + middle. When we came through it the ship scraped bottom time and again. As + a matter of fact,—the way I figure it out,—she was simply + bumping against the upper edges of a crevice that reaches down God knows + how far. We took no soundings, you will remember, until we swung out into + this pool. I'll bet my head that that cut through the hill yonder is a + mile deep. Earthquake fissures seldom go deeper than that, I've heard. + Generally they are mere surface cracks, a hundred feet deep at the + outside. But this one,—My God, it gives me the creeps, that crack in + the earth does.” + </p> + <p> + “Umph!” said Mr. Mott, his elbows on the rail beside the young man, his + chin in his hands. He was looking down at the water. “Captain Trigger is + planning to send a couple of boats outside to survey the coast. I dare say + he'll be asking you to go out in one of them. You're a civil engineer and + so he feels—” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Mr. Mott, but what's the sense of sending boats out to explore + the coast before we find out how big the island is?” + </p> + <p> + “What's the sense? Why, how are we to find out how big the island is + unless we make the circuit of it? And how in thunder are we to find out + that there isn't a village or some sort of trading port on it—What + are you pointing up there for?” + </p> + <p> + Percival's finger was levelled at the top of the higher half of the + bisected mountain. + </p> + <p> + “See that hill, Mr. Mott? Well, unless we're on a darned sight bigger + island than I think we are, we can see from one end of it to the other + from the top of that hill. It isn't much of a climb. A few huskies with + axes to cut a path through the underbrush, and we might get up there in a + few hours. I've been figuring it out. That's why I got up so early. Had it + on my mind all night. The sensible thing to do is to send a gang of us up + there to have a look around. Strange Captain Trigger never thought of it. + I suppose it's because he's an old sea-dog and not a landlubber.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott coughed. “I fancy he would have thought of it in good time.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in case he doesn't think of it in time, you might suggest it to + him, Mr. Mott.” + </p> + <p> + The result of this conversation was the formation of a party of explorers + to ascend the mountain. They were sent ashore soon after breakfast, + well-armed, equipped with axes and other implements, boat-hooks, surveying + instruments, and the most powerful glasses on board. Percival was in + command. The party was made up of a dozen men, half of them from the gun + crew, with an additional complement of laborers from the steerage. + </p> + <p> + Ruth Clinton, as soon as she learned of the proposed expedition, sought + out Percival and insisted upon re-bandaging his hands. + </p> + <p> + “You must not go into all that tangle of brushwood with your hands + unprotected,” she declared, obstinately shaking her head in response to + his objections. “Don't be foolish, Mr. Percival. It won't take me five + minutes to wrap them up. Sit down,—I insist. You are still one of my + patients. Hold out your hand!” + </p> + <p> + “They are ever so much better,” he protested, but he obeyed her. + </p> + <p> + “Of course they are,” she agreed, in a matter-of-fact tone. “You did not + give me a chance last night to tell you how splendid you were in tackling + that crazy mob. I witnessed it all, you know. Madame Obosky and I.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, you didn't beat it when I told you to, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. What are you going to do about it?” + </p> + <p> + “What can I do? I can only say this: I'm glad Captain Trigger's opinion of + me is based on my ability to reason with an ignorant mob and not on my + power to intimidate a couple of very intelligent young women.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't have missed it for worlds,” she said coolly. She looked up + into his eyes, a slight frown puckering her brow. “Do you know, Madame + Obosky had the impertinence to say that you would have turned tail and + fled if those people had shown fight.” + </p> + <p> + He grinned. “She's an amazing person, isn't she? Wonderful faculty for + sizing the most of us up.” + </p> + <p> + “You would have run?” + </p> + <p> + “Like a rabbit,” he answered, unabashed. “That's a little too tight, I + think, Miss Clinton. Would you mind loosening it up a bit?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm sorry. Is that better? Now the other one, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm an awful coward,” he said, after a long silence. + </p> + <p> + She looked up quickly. Something in his eyes brought a faint flush to her + cheek. For a second or two she met his gaze steadily and then her eyes + fell, but not before he had caught the shy, wondering expression that + suddenly filled them. He experienced an almost uncontrollable desire to + lay his clumsy hand upon the soft, smooth brown hair. Through his mind + flashed a queer rush of comparison. He recalled the dark, knowing eyes of + the Russian dancer, mysterious and seductive,—man-reading eyes from + which nothing was concealed,—and contrasted them with the clear, + honest, blue-grey orbs that still could fall in sweet confusion. His heart + began to pound furiously, he felt a queer tightening of the throat. He was + afraid to trust his voice. How white and soft and gentle were her hands,—and + how beautiful they were. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she stroked the bandaged hand,—as an amiable manicurist + might have done—and arose. + </p> + <p> + “There!” she said, composedly. Her cheek was cool and unflushed, her eyes + serene and smiling. “Now you may go, Mr. Percival. Good luck! Bring back + good news to us. I dreamed last night that we were marooned, that we would + have to stay here for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “All of us?” he asked, a trifle thickly. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” she replied, after the moment required for comprehension. Her + eyes were suddenly cold and uncompromising. + </p> + <p> + “If I never come back,” he began, somewhat dashed, “I'd like you to + remember always, Miss Clinton, that I—well, that I am the most + grateful dog alive. You've been corking.” + </p> + <p> + “But it isn't possible you won't come back,” she cried, and he was happy + to see a flicker of alarm in her eyes. “What—what could happen to + you? It isn't—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all sorts of things,” he broke in, much in the same spirit as that + which dominates the boy who wishes he could die in order to punish his + parents for correcting him. + </p> + <p> + “Are—are you really in earnest?” + </p> + <p> + “Would you care—very much?” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. “Haven't I wished you good luck, Mr. Percival?” + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind answering my question?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I should care,—very much indeed,” she replied calmly. “I + am sure that everybody would be terribly grieved if anything were to + happen to you out there.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,—good-bye, Miss Clinton. I guess they're waiting for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye! Oh, how I wish I were in your place! Just to put my foot on the + blessed, green earth once more. Good-bye! And—and good luck, again.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will take a pair of glasses and watch the top of that hill,—there + is a bare knob up there, you see,—you will know long before we come + back whether this island is inhabited or not. I am taking an American flag + with me. If we do not see another flag floating anywhere on this island, I + intend to plant the Stars and Stripes on that hill,—just for luck!” + </p> + <p> + She walked a few steps at his side, their bodies aslant against the slope + of the deck. + </p> + <p> + “And if you do not raise the flag, we shall know at once that—that + there are other people here?” she said, her voice eager with suppressed + excitement. “It will mean that ships—” Her voice failed her. + </p> + <p> + “It will mean home,—some day,” he returned solemnly. + </p> + <p> + The one remaining port-side boat was lowered a few minutes later and to + the accompaniment of cheers from the throng that lined the rails, the men + pulled away, heading for a tiny cove on the far side of the basin. The + shore at that point was sloping and practically clear of undergrowth. + </p> + <p> + It was while Percival was waiting to take his place in the boat that Olga + Obosky hurried up to him. + </p> + <p> + “I have brought my luck piece for you,” she said, and revealed in her open + palm a small gold coin, worn smooth with age and handling. “Carry it, my + friend. Nothing will happen to you while it is in your possession. It was + given me by the son of a Grand Duke. It was his lucky piece. It brought me + luck, for he was killed zat very same day, and so I was saved from him. + Keep it in your pocket till you come safely back and then—then you + shall return it to me, because I would not be without my luck, no.” She + slipped her hand deep into his trousers pocket. “There is no hole. That is + good. I have place it there. It is safe. Au revoir! You will have good + luck, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + Withdrawing her warm hand from his pocket she turned and walked swiftly + away. + </p> + <p> + The throng on board the Doraine watched the party land; hats and + handkerchiefs were waved as the adventurers turned for a last look behind, + before they disappeared into the forest. + </p> + <p> + Hours passed,—long interminable hours for those who were not engaged + in the active preparations for the landing of people and stores. Captain + Trigger was making ready to transfer the passengers from the ship at the + earliest possible moment. He was far from certain that the Doraine would + maintain its rather precarious balance on the rocks. With safety not much + more than a stone's throw away, he was determined to take no further risk. + </p> + <p> + At last a shout went up from some one on the forecastle deck. It was taken + up by eager voices. Out upon the bald crest of the mountain straggled the + first of the explorers to reach the goal. They were plainly visible. One + after another the rest of the party appeared. The illusion was startling. + It was as if they had actually emerged from the tree-tops. With straining + eyes the observers below watched the group of figures outlined against the + sky. They spoke in subdued tones. As time went on and the flag was not + unfurled, they took hope; eyes brightened, the hushed tones increased to a + cheerful, excited clatter, the tenseness that had held them rigid for so + long gave way before the growing conviction that another flag already + fluttered somewhere beyond the screening hills. + </p> + <p> + And then, when hope was highest, the Stars and Stripes went up! + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger assembled the ship's company on the forward deck later in + the day. The landing party returned about three o'clock. Acting on advance + instructions, they made their report in private to the Captain, denying + all information to the clamorous passengers. A brief conference of + officers, to which a number of men from the first cabin were invited, was + held immediately after Percival's return. A course of action was discussed + and agreed upon, and then all on board were summoned to the open deck to + hear the result of the expedition. + </p> + <p> + Percival reported the following facts and conclusions: + </p> + <p> + 1. The island was approximately fifteen miles long and six or seven miles + wide in the centre. The basin in which the Doraine rested was about midway + between the extreme points, and about two miles inland from the northern + shore. The southern slope of the range descended to a flat plain, or + perhaps moor, some two miles across at its broadest point and ran in + varying width from one end of the island to the other. It was green and + almost entirely devoid of timber. The central eminence from which the + observations were taken was the loftiest of a range of ten or twelve + diminishing hills that formed what might actually be described as the + backbone of the island. The eastern extremity tapered off to a long, + level, low-lying promontory that ended in a point so sharp and wedge-like + that it bore a singular resemblance to the forward deck and prow of a huge + ironclad. The hills, as they approached the plateau, terminated altogether + a couple of miles from the tip of land. The western half of the island + (strictly speaking, it was a separate bit of land, cut off from its + neighbour by the ribbon-like channel), was of a more rugged character, the + hills, in fact, extending to the sea, forming, no doubt, steep and + precipitous cliffs, rising directly from the water's edge. + </p> + <p> + (Since his return, Percival had painted on a large piece of canvas a + fairly accurate outline map of the bisected island as it had appeared to + him from the top of the mountain. This crude map was hung up in full view + of the spectators, and served him well in an effort to make clear his + deductions. His original sketch is reproduced later on in this chronicle.) + </p> + <p> + 2. There was no visible sign of past or present human habitation. + Absolutely nothing appeared to indicate that man had ever attempted to + claim or occupy this virgin land. + </p> + <p> + 3. The channel through the mountain was less than one hundred feet wide. + The walls of this gorge at one point were fully seven hundred feet high, + absolutely perpendicular, and of solid rock. It was as if the hill had + been split wide open with one blow of a tremendous broad-ax. Beyond the + elevation the channel spread out fan-fashion, creating a funnel-like bay + or inlet from the sea. + </p> + <p> + 4. There was no other land in sight. As far as the eye could reach with + the aid of lenses there was nothing but water, a mighty waste of water. + </p> + <p> + 5. The wind, which had veered around to the south, was cold and dry. + </p> + <p> + 6. A curving beach of almost snowy whiteness extended for a mile or so + along the northern shore, about half way between the entrance to the + channel and the eastern point of land. Inside the fringe of trees that + lined this beach stretched what appeared to be a long strip of rolling + meadow-land, reaching far up the hillsides. + </p> + <p> + 7. Monkeys, parrots and snakes abounded in the forest. An occasional + gay-plumaged bird of the toucan variety, but larger than the ordinary + South American species, was seen, while large numbers of plump birds of + the tinamou family went drumming off through the forest at the approach of + the party. Penguins strutted in complete “full dress” among the rocks of + the southern shore. A dead armadillo of extraordinary dimensions was found + near the foot of the slope. It was at least thrice the size of the common + South American mammal. The same could be said of the single iguana + encountered. This large lizard, which was alive, must have been fully ten + feet from head to tail, and gave rise to the belief that the supposedly + extinct iguanodon, described by the scientists as attaining a length of + thirty feet, might any day be discovered in the fastnesses of this + unexplored land. The mere existence of this rather amiable, unfrightened + monster was of the greatest significance. If it were known to man, why had + it never been reported in zoological or natural history journals? + </p> + <p> + 8. The trees on the mountain-side were thick and stunted, with + interlocking limbs that created a sort of endless canopy which the sun was + unable to penetrate. The cool, dry wind that swept the slope would + account, however, for the surprising absence of moisture in soil and + vegetation in the dense shade of the trees. Oak, elm, spruce, even walnut, + and other trees of a sturdy character indigenous to the temperate zone + were identified. What appeared to be a clump of cypress trees, fantastic, + misshapen objects that seemed to, shrink back in terror from the + assaulting breakers, stood out in bold relief upon a rocky point to the + south and west of the observation hill. Their gaunt, twisted trunks leaned + backward from the sea; their shorn limbs, racked by gales, were raised as + if in supplication to the sombre forest behind them. Trunks of enormous + trees that had fallen perhaps a century ago were found half-buried in the + earth, while scattered along the northern base of the range, overlooking + the downs, a few of their gigantic counterparts, alive and flourishing, + raised their lofty heads far above the surrounding forest, and stood like + sentinels, guarding the plain. + </p> + <p> + 9. A small river wound its devious way, with serpentine crooks and curves, + through the downs and across the meadow, emptying into the ocean some + distance east of the gleaming beach. That its source was far up in the + secretive hills was not a matter of conjecture, however; the incessant + hiss and roar of a cataract was plainly heard by the investigators. + </p> + <p> + Here is the crude, hastily sketched map of the island as made by Percival: + </p> + <p> + 1. Position of stranded vessel in basin. + </p> + <p> + 2. Entrance to channel from the north. + </p> + <p> + 3. Entrance to channel from the south. + </p> + <p> + 4. Narrow strip of woodland from channel almost to river's mouth. + </p> + <p> + 5. Strip of meadow-land clear of trees. + </p> + <p> + 6. River. + </p> + <p> + 7. Stretch of lowland leading down to the water. + </p> + <p> + 8. Crest of hill from which observations were taken with range extending + east and west. + </p> + <p> + 9. Point of rocks with cypress trees. + </p> + <p> + 10. Buttress-like west end of island. + </p> + <p> + 11. Dense forest reaching to channel. + </p> + <p> + 12. Rocky cape. + </p> + <p> + 13. Level plateau, without trees. + </p> + <p> + 14. Beach. + </p> + <p> + 15. Penguins. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <p> + After the second reading of the foregoing report, the first being in + English, Percival requested his fellow explorers to verify the statements + contained therein. This they did promptly. He then went on: + </p> + <p> + “I am delegated by Captain Trigger and the officers of this vessel, after + a conference just concluded,—and of which you are all well aware,—to + put before you as briefly and as clearly as possible the decision that has + been reached. I may as well confess in the beginning that this decision is + based on the recommendations of the party who went to the top of the + mountain. It is out of the question for the people on board this vessel to + go ashore until further investigations have been made. For the present, we + are all safe here on board the ship. We don't know what perils exist in + the absolutely unexplored country that surrounds us. Additional parties + are to be sent out to explore the island, especially the eastern section + of it. There is no use mincing matters. We are confronted by a very plain + situation. It is possible, even probable, that we are the first human + beings ever to set foot on this land. If that be true, we are now so far + out of the path of the few ships and steamers sailing these southern seas + that there is small hope or chance of a speedy rescue. As a matter of + fact, it isn't likely that we will be discovered until the island itself + is discovered, if you see what I mean. + </p> + <p> + “There isn't the slightest chance that the ship we're now standing on will + ever float again. Even if the engines could be put in order,—and + that is possible, I am told,—the vessel cannot be raised. If anybody + has been nursing that sort of hope, he may as well get rid of it. It's no + good. We are here to stay, unless help comes from the outside. There's the + plain English of it. We may have to live here on this island, like poor + old Robinson Crusoe, for years,—for a great many years. I'm going to + stop just a few seconds to let that soak into your brains. We've got to + face it. We've got to make the best of it. It is not for Captain Trigger + or me or any one else to say that we will not be taken off this island + some time—maybe sooner than we think. Whaling vessels must visit + these parts. That's neither here nor there. We've got our work cut out for + us, friends. We've got to think of the present and let the future take + care of itself. Now, here are the facts. We cannot remain on board this + wreck. We've got to go to work, every man, woman and child of us. I don't + know what can be cultivated on this island, but we've got to find out, and + when we find out we've got to begin raising it. If we don't, my friends, + we'll starve to death in a very short time. And what's more, if we do not + get out there and put up houses to live in, we'll freeze to death when + winter comes along. + </p> + <p> + “According to calculations, winter is still five or six months away. We + won't get it, I dare say, before next April or May. All you have to do is + to take a look at all these trees around here to realize that we are a + long way from the tropics. It gets as cold as blazes here in the dead of + winter, I can tell you that. We've got to build homes. We've got to build + a camp,—not a flimsy, half-way sort of camp, but a good, solid, + substantial one, my friends. There is what you might call a minority + report in regard to the situation. Captain Trigger asked me to speak for + him and others who look at it as I do. Mr. Landover, who is, I understand, + one of the leading bankers in the United States of America, contends that + we are well enough off as we are, on board the Doraine, where we've got + cabins and beds and shelter from the elements. He may be right. All I have + to say to him is this,—I don't believe I mentioned it at this + conference, Mr. Landover, simply because I'm one of those unhappy + individuals who always think of the brilliant things I might have said + when it's too late to say them,—all I have to say is this: if Mr. + Landover and his supporters expect to sit snugly on this ship while the + rest of us build houses and plant crops, and then conclude to come out and + bone the rest of us for a square meal and a nice warm place to sleep, they + are going to be badly fooled. We're all equal here. A couple of million + dollars, more or less, doesn't cut any ice on this little island. What + counts here is muscle and commonsense and a willingness to use both. + </p> + <p> + “A little while ago I asked Mr. Landover how much money he has with him. + He informed me that while it wasn't any of my business, he has about five + hundred dollars in American money and a couple of hundred pesos besides, + but that his letter of credit is still good for fifteen thousand. Mr. + Nicklestick has about five hundred dollars in money, and so has Mr. Block + and one or two others. They've all got letters of credit, express checks, + and so forth, and I suppose there is a wheelbarrow full of jewellery on + board this ship. Now, if money is to talk down here, I wish to state that + the men and women from the steerage have got more real dough than all the + first and second cabins put together. They haven't any letters of credit + or bank accounts in New York, but there are a dozen men in the steerage + who have as much as two or three thousand pesos sewed up inside their + clothes. So far as I can make out, the only people who can afford to hire + anybody to build a hut for them, and pay for it in real money, are the + plutocrats from the steerage. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Landover's letter of credit is good for fifteen thousand if he ever + gets back to New York, but it isn't worth fifteen cents here. His life is + insured for one million dollars, I am told. I don't know who the + beneficiaries are, but, whoever they are, they are going to put in a claim + for the million if he doesn't show up in New York pretty shortly. He is + going to be declared officially dead, and so are all the rest of us, after + a reasonable time has elapsed. Now, I don't say that we are never going to + be rescued. We may be found inside of a month. Some of us don't quite + realize the fix we are in. Mr. Codge, the purser, was saying a little + while ago that a lady from the first cabin nearly took his head off when + he told her it was impossible to send a cable message to her people in + Boston. A number of passengers have already demanded that their passage + money be refunded. + </p> + <p> + “You have doubtless heard how I came to be on board this steamer. I am a + stowaway. I have no standing among you. I haven't a penny in my pocket,—aside + from a luck-piece that doesn't belong to me. I wanted to get back to the + States so that I could carry a gun or something over in France. I wanted + to fight for my country. I wasn't thinking very much about my life when I + started for home and France, but I want to say that I'm thinking about it + now. I don't intend to starve or freeze to death if I can help it. I am + going to fight for my life, not for my country. + </p> + <p> + “This is no time to be sentimental. It is no time to sit down and pity + ourselves or each other. God knows I am just as sorry for myself as you + are for yourselves, but that isn't going to get me anywhere. We've got to + work. That means all of us. It means the women as well as the men. It + means the women with soft, white hands and the men who never did a stroke + of manual labour in their lives, just as much as it means the people who + have never done anything else but work. Something will be found for every + one of us to do, and, ladies and gentlemen, we will have to do it without + whining. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Trigger is accountable for the cargo on board this ship. + Naturally he is opposed to our confiscating anything that has been + entrusted to him for safe delivery. He takes a very sensible attitude, + however. He will officially protest against the removal of anything from + the hold of his vessel, but he will not employ force to resist us when we + begin to land stores, foodstuffs and all that sort of thing. He + understands the situation perfectly. + </p> + <p> + “Now, here is what we will have to do. We must select a site for our camp,—or + town, you may well say,—and we must build upon it without delay. + That is to be our first step. Details will come later. There are over six + hundred of us here. We represent a fair-sized village. We have mechanics, + carpenters, farmers, surveyors, masons,—and merchants, to say + nothing of cooks, housekeepers, and so on. The ship contains all sorts of + tools to work with, canvas for temporary quarters, beds and bedding, + cooking utensils,—in fact, we have everything that Robinson Crusoe + didn't have, and besides all that, we've got each other. We are not alone + on a desert island. We are, my friends, as well off as the Pilgrims who + landed on Plymouth Rock, and we are better off than the hardy colonists + who laid the foundation for the country that flies that flag up there. + Centuries ago bold adventurers set out to discover unknown lands. They + were few in number and poorly equipped. But they ventured into the + wilderness and built villages that grew to be cities. They went through a + thousand hardships that we will never know, and they survived. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Trigger and the others selected me to make this talk to you + because I have had some practical experience in establishing and + developing a camp, such as we will have to build. Experience has taught me + one thing above all others: work, hard work of a constructive nature, is + our only salvation. Unless we occupy ourselves from one day's end to + another in good, hard, honest toil, we will all go mad. That's the long + and the short of it. If we sat still on this boat for thirty days, doing + nothing, we'd lose our minds. There isn't a man in this crowd, I am sure, + who wouldn't work his head off to spare the women an hour of hardship. But + the greatest hardship you women could possibly know would be idleness. + There will be work for every one to do, and we can thank God for it, my + friends. We will have to work for nothing. We will have to help each + other. There is but one class on this island at present, and that is the + working class. + </p> + <p> + “We've all got people at home waiting for us. By this time the whole world + knows that the Doraine is three weeks overdue at Rio Janeiro, and that no + word has been had from her. The ocean is being searched. Our friends, our + relatives are doing everything in their power to get trace of this lost + ship. You may depend on that. In a little while,—a few weeks, at + best,—the ship will be given up for lost. We will be counted as + dead, all of us. That's a hard, cruel thing for me to say, and I hate to + say it,—but we've just got to realize the position we're in. It's + best that we should look at it from the worst possible angle. I do not + speak jestingly when I say that we may as well consider ourselves dead and + forgotten. I am as full of hope and confidence as anybody and I am an + optimist if there ever was one, but I don't work on the theory that God + takes any better care of an optimist than He does of a pessimist. + </p> + <p> + “It will require months, maybe years, for us to construct a ship, and even + then it will not be big enough to transport all of us. The most we can + hope for is a craft that will be stout enough to go out and bring help to + the rest of us. I am trying, at Captain Trigger's suggestion, to convince + you that we can't build a ship, that we can't expect to get away from this + island by our own endeavours, unless we go about it in the proper and + sensible way. That means, first of all, that we must safeguard ourselves + against time. We've got to live and we've got to keep our strength. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Landover has made a very generous proposition. He agrees to give a + hundred thousand dollars to any boat's crew that will take one of these + lifeboats and make port somewhere. He fails to mention the compensation + they are to receive if they never make port. He forgets that this big ship + floundered around for a good many days without sighting anything but + water. He would have been perfectly safe in offering a hundred million + dollars, because he would never be called upon to pay it. I understand, + however, that his offer still stands. + </p> + <p> + “Tomorrow morning surveying parties will be sent ashore to look for a + possible site for our town. Volunteers will undertake this work. As soon + as possible thereafter a temporary camp will be set up, and practically + every one on board will be moved from this ship. Captain Trigger and a few + chosen men will remain on board. It is his wish, ladies and gentlemen. He + is the captain of the Doraine. He will not leave her. We are all here + today, and alive, because Captain Trigger would not leave his ship. We owe + our lives to him. This is not the time to propose three cheers for the + gallant master of the Doraine. It is not the time to cheer for anybody or + for anything. We do not feel like cheering. We've done all the praying + that is necessary, we've offered up all the thanksgiving that the + situation calls for, so now we've got to roll up our sleeves and go to + work.” + </p> + <p> + He, stepped down from the gun-platform. There were no cheers. Every voice + was stilled, every face was set. Many seconds passed before there was even + the slightest stir among those who had listened so intently. + </p> + <p> + Then the few English-speaking people from the steerage began to whisper + hoarsely to their bewildered companions. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK TWO + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + The warm, summer season was well-advanced in this far southern land before + the strenuous, tireless efforts of the marooned settlers began to show + definite results. + </p> + <p> + Some six weeks after the stranding of the Doraine, staunch log cabins were + in course of completion along the base of the hills overlooking the clear, + rolling meadow-land to the north and east. Down in the lowlands scores of + men were employed in sowing and planting. The soil was rich. Farmers and + grain-raisers among the passengers were unanimously of the opinion that + almost any vegetable, cereal or fruit indigenous to Argentina (or at the + worst, Patagonia), could be produced here. Uncertainty as to the duration + of the warm period, so vital to the growing and maturing of crops, was the + chief problem. No time was to be lost if there were to be harvests before + the cold and blighting weather set in. + </p> + <p> + It was extremely doubtful if the spring and summer seasons combined + covered more than five months in this latitude. Assuming that the climate + in this open part of the world was anything like that of the Falkland + Islands, the rainy season was overdue. Midwinter usually comes in July, + with the temperature averaging between 35 deg. and 10 deg. above zero over + a period of four or five months. At the time of the wreck, the + thermometers were registering about 70 deg. during the day, and dropping + to 50 deg. or thereabouts after nightfall. This would indicate that spring + was fairly well-advanced, and that midsummer might be figured on as coming + in January. It was now the end of November. Warm weather probably would + last until February or March. Possibly they would be too late with their + planting, but they went about it speedily, determinedly, just the same. + </p> + <p> + All of them had had crop failures before. All of them had seen the labour + of months go for naught in the blight of an evening's frost, or the sweep + of a prairie fire. So here on this virgin isle, in soil whose sod had + never been turned, they sowed from the bins of the slumbering ship. Wheat + and oats and flax, brought from the Argentina plains; potatoes, squash and + beet-root; even beans and peas were tried, but with small hope. And there + were women ready to till the soil and work the gardens, women to draw the + strangely fashioned ploughshares as willing beasts of burden, to wield the + hoe and spade, and to watch for the cherished sprout that was to glorify + their deeds. + </p> + <p> + The ring of the ax resounded in the forest; the clangour of hammer and + nail, the rasp of the saw, the clatter of timber went on from dawn to + dusk,—for there was no eight-hour law in this smiling land, nor was + there any other union save that of staunch endeavour, no other Brotherhood + except that of Man. There was never a question of wage, never a dispute as + to hours, never a thought of strike. Every labourer was worthy of his + hire,—and his hire was food! + </p> + <p> + The Doraine was gradually being dismantled. She was being stripped of + every bit of material that could be used in constructing and furnishing + the huts. The new camp lay not more than a mile and a half from the basin. + A road had been cleared through the wood from the small, hastily + constructed dock and runway on the eastern side of the basin to the open + territory beyond. + </p> + <p> + Material, supplies, equipment were carried through the densely shaded + avenue, and later on, after the warehouses and granaries had been built, + the leafy lane witnessed the transportation of ton upon ton of stores, + patiently borne in hundredweight lots, in bushel bags, in clumsy parcels, + by men whose work seemed endless; wheat, barley, oats, sugar, coffee and + other commodities entrusted to the steamship company for delivery in the + United States. Tobacco, canned and refrigerated meats, olives, flour, figs + and dates in large quantities were included in the vast cargo, to say + nothing of the enormous supply of canned fruits and vegetables. Washed + wool, tanned leather, homespun cotton and woollen cloth, silks, hides, + furs, rugs, laces, linseed oil, blankets,—all these came ashore in + course of time, but of the sinister treasure that had inspired the + destruction of the ship, i.e., the manganese, the rubber, the nitrates, + the copper bars, and the stacks of high explosives, not a pound was moved. + All this was left for another and more leisurely day. + </p> + <p> + In the end, the once luxurious liner was to be reduced to “skin and + bones,” to employ a trite but eminently appropriate phrase. Ultimately she + became a black, unlovely skeleton, bereft of every vestige of her former + opulence. Her decks were torn up and the timbers hauled away to make + floors in the huts; the doors, mirrors, stairways, windows, rails, + carpets, pipes, bathtubs, toilets, lamps, every foot of woodwork from stem + to stern, berths, washbasins, kitchen ranges, boilers,—in fact, + everything that man could make use of was taken from the ship, leaving + nothing of her but a hollow, echoing shell through which the wind howled + or moaned a ghostly requiem. + </p> + <p> + Much of this material was carefully stacked or stored away against the day + when it could be utilized in the construction of a small but sturdy ship, + in which a chosen company of sailors were to fare out to sea once more in + search of the world they had lost. + </p> + <p> + Tireless and indomitable engineers later on succeeded in transferring + portions of the damaged machinery, including dynamos, to the camp, where + in course of time their skill and ingenuity bade fair to triumph over + seemingly insurmountable difficulties in the matter of restoration. + </p> + <p> + Fully six weeks elapsed, however, before the women were allowed to leave + the ship for their new homes on the land, and even then they came but a + few at a time and only as huts were ready and fully equipped to receive + them. Each hut contained a combination kitchen and living-room, with a + single bedchamber. A substantial fireplace, built of stone and mortar, + with a tall chimney at the back, was a feature in every house. The cracks + between the logs, and all chinks, were sealed with thick layers of mortar; + the ceilings, made of stout saplings, were treated in a similar manner, + while the roof, resting on a sturdy ridge-pole, and securely anchored, was + of three layers of poles, interstices mortared and the whole covered with + a vast quantity of seaweed, moss and reeds held in place by several + well-fastened sections of iron railing from the decks of the Doraine. + </p> + <p> + While the huts were uniform in size, shape and construction, there was + nothing to prevent the occupant from subsequently enlarging and improving + his house. For the present, however, the interests of all were best served + by speed and compactness. + </p> + <p> + The superintendent of construction was Algernon Adonis Percival. As a + matter of fact, the end of the first week found him occupying the position + of General Manager for the whole enterprise, an unsolicited honour but one + which he was resolved that no one, great or small, should deride. He had + one stormy “run-in,” as he described it, with Mr. Landover and his group + of satellites. This occurred about the middle of their first week on the + island when practically every able-bodied man from the Doraine was at work + cutting a way through the forest or in constructing the dock at the + water's edge. As the incident is entitled to a very definite place in this + narrative, a more or less extended account of it may be given here and + now, even at the risk of being classed as a digression, or a step backward + in the sequence of the history. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Landover, Mr. Block, Mr. Nicklestick and two or three other men were + grouped on the after-deck early one morning decrying the brainless scheme + to build a camp out there in the open. Their audience included several + women, among them Mrs. Spofford, Ruth Clinton, Madame Careni-Amori, Madame + Obosky, Mrs. Block and a couple of loquacious Rio Janeiro ladies. + </p> + <p> + Percival bore down upon this group. He wasted no time in getting to the + point. + </p> + <p> + “We've been at work for two days out there, gentlemen, and up to date not + one of you has turned to with the rest of us. The understanding was that—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Landover whirled on him, white with anger. “That will do!” he + exclaimed. “Clear out! I do not intend to allow any such riff-raff as you + to order me to—Oh, pray do not be alarmed, ladies! This rowdy is not + likely to assault me. Nothing will happen, I assure you. Clear out, you + bum,—do you hear me?” + </p> + <p> + Percival was smiling. “I wish you wouldn't interrupt me, Mr. Landover. As + I was saying, it was understood that every man on this ship who is well + enough to—” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you see that there are ladies present? Haven't you an atom of + decency about you?” + </p> + <p> + “—understood that every man on this ship was to do his share of the + work laid out. I owe these ladies an apology for reminding you in their + presence that the boats are leaving for shore and that if you do not get + off in the next relay you will be compelled to swim to that landing over + there,—and I doubt very much whether any of you can make it.” + </p> + <p> + “Wha-what's that?” demanded Mr. Block. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Landover was speechless. A hard glitter came to Percival's eyes, the + smile left his lips. + </p> + <p> + “You heard what I said, Mr. Block. I'll make it plainer, however. If you + men don't get into the next boat leaving this ship, I'm going to have you + thrown overboard and made to swim to your work. I regret exceedingly, + ladies, that I have been obliged to resort to harsh words in your + presence, but time is so precious that I can't afford to give them a + private audience.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my goodness gracious!” cried Mrs. Block, twisting her fat hands in an + agony of alarm. “Maybe you better go, Moses. You vas nearly drownded twice + yet in pool at White Sulphur.” + </p> + <p> + “This is the most outrageous, high-handed,—” began Landover, + explosively, but stopped short as Percival levelled his unlovely + forefinger at him. + </p> + <p> + “Cut it out, Mr. Landover,—cut it out,” he snapped, inelegantly. + “Now, listen to me. For two days you and these boon companions of yours + have been loafing on the job. While the rest of us have been working like + dogs, you and your friends,—you needn't look insulted, because by + the looks of things they are your friends,—you've been sitting up + here talking to the ladies, smoking cigars, and telling every one how + successfully you conduct a bank in New York. Now, Mr. Landover, you're not + an old man. If you were, I'd be the first to suggest the easiest sort of + work for you. You are under fifty and you're a strong, healthy man. You + ride every morning in Central Park, you play golf in winter and summer, + and you're one of the men who made Muldoon famous. + </p> + <p> + “You are able to work as the rest of us are working. Your hands are in a + much better condition than mine. If we were in New York, I would take off + my hat to you and admit that you are one of the greatest bankers in the + world, and that you know your business. But we're not in New York. We're + down here on a lonely island. You know how to build and conduct banks, I + know how to build and conduct camps. We have no use for scientific bankers + here, but we have considerable use for experienced camp builders. I have + been put in charge of this work. I'm going to see it through. Up in the + hills I got a full day's work out of my men,—and there were worse + men among them than you will ever be. There were gunmen, knife slingers, + cutthroats and bullies,—but they had to work, just the same. Just a + minute, if you please. I'm not through. I think I appreciate your + position, Mr. Landover. + </p> + <p> + “You regard me as a four-flusher, a tramp,—maybe a thief or worse. I + am but little more than half your age and I am a person of absolutely no + importance. That's neither here nor there. I have been selected to run + this job because Captain Trigger, with Mr. Mott and virtually every other + man on this ship, believes that I know how to handle it. But even that's + neither here nor there. What I'm coming to is this. As long as I am in + charge of this job, every man, woman and child has got to do something. + Just at present there isn't much that the women and children can do, but + there is work for every man who can stand on his feet. You needn't glare + at me. I'm not afraid of you, Mr. Landover. You say you are going to stay + on this ship. Well, I've come here to tell you that you are not going to + do anything of the sort. The women and children are to remain on board + until we've got houses built for them on shore, or until the time comes + when there is work for them to do. If they choose to come ashore + occasionally it will be to watch the men work and to cheer them up with + their presence. But no man is to stay on this ship after we've once got + the real job going out there. Now you've heard my statement, sir. I am + willing to listen for a few minutes to your side of the question. Don't + all speak at once,—and please be careful, there are ladies present.” + </p> + <p> + While Percival did not take his eyes from Landover's face during this + speech, he was aware that Miss Clinton and her aunt had turned abruptly + away and were leaning against the rail a few yards distant, their backs to + him. Olga Obosky and Careni-Amori were regarding him with shining, + approving eyes, while Mrs. Block,—gulping furiously,—clasped + her husband's arm and kept up a constant muttering. Something told him + that Ruth Clinton and Mrs. Spofford had turned against him. + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to say to you,” said Landover, curtly. Turning on his + heel, he joined the two ladies at the rail. He spoke a few words to them + in a lowered tone, and then the three of them strode off without so much + as a glance at the young man. + </p> + <p> + Percival flushed a dull red under his tan. His eyes followed them until + they disappeared around a corner. Down in his heart he hoped that Ruth + would not deny him a fleeting look of encouragement and approval. + </p> + <p> + Landover carried himself like a soldier. He was tall, well set-up, and + almost offensively erect. He was a handsome man of perhaps forty-eight. + His cleanshaven face was firm, aggressive, domineering. There was not a + trace of grey in his dark hair. He typified strength, mentality, + shrewdness and that most essential quality in the standards of wealth and + power,—arrogance. In a word, he personified Finance. + </p> + <p> + “Now, see here, Percival,” began Nicklestick, in a most cavalier manner, + greatly encouraged by the lofty conduct of the Money King, “you know you + can't do this sort of thing. We won't stand for it, not for a minute. We + object to this high-handed business. You got to realize that—” + </p> + <p> + “Object and be hanged!” snapped Percival. “The next thing, you'll be + calling yourselves conscientious objectors. Well, it's no use, + Nicklestick. There's no such animal on board this Ark. I see a couple of + boats returning from shore. You've got about fifteen minutes to shed that + Stein & Bloch suit and jump into something that will never need + pressing again,—your working clothes. I'm doing you a kindness. That + gang out there won't stand for slackers. If you're wise you'll take my + word for it.” + </p> + <p> + He was turning away when Nicklestick intercepted him. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think they would do, Mr. Percival?” he inquired in some + agitation. “We are gentlemen. We got a right to decide for ourselves vat + we shall do. We can pay for—” + </p> + <p> + “You will find a lot of gentlemen out there who have already decided for + themselves,—and very cheerfully, too. You will not be lonely. If you + desire any further information as to the class of labourers you will come + in contact with, Mr. Nicklestick, I would suggest a careful study of the + first cabin list, the second cabin list, and finally the third cabin list, + if you can find such a thing. You will also run up against some excellent + material from the United States Navy, to say nothing of a fine lot of able + seamen. They've adopted a common name. Do you know what they call each + other?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Nicklestick, wiping his brow. “Vat—vat do they call each + other?” + </p> + <p> + “Men,” said Percival, and walked away. + </p> + <p> + He was followed closely by Careni-Amori and Olga Obosky, and at some + distance by the whispering, gesticulating Jews. The great soprano was + profoundly agitated. Obosky, a pace or two behind her, was tense and + silent. Her head was slightly bent. There was a strange, dog-like + expression in her eyes as they regarded the back of Percival's head. + </p> + <p> + “But what will you do?” Careni-Amori was crying, as she clutched his arm. + “He is a great man. He is a millionaire. He owns part of this steamship + line,—so he have inform me. You will not throw him into the water,—yes?” + </p> + <p> + “As sure as you are a foot high, Madame Careni-Amori,” said he, grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mon Dieu! You hear him, Obosky? He means what he have say.” + </p> + <p> + “Be careful, my friend,” said Obosky, drawing alongside of Percival. “Do + you not see how the wind blows?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you count the cost of victory? You may lose more than you will + gain.” + </p> + <p> + Percival looked at her intently for a moment; then, in a flash, the + meaning of her words was revealed to him. + </p> + <p> + “Even so, Madame Obosky,” he returned, his jaw setting, “I am a good + loser.” + </p> + <p> + “The spoils do not always go to the victor,” she warned him. + </p> + <p> + “I still have your luck-piece,” said he, smiling as he slapped his + trousers-leg. + </p> + <p> + “It has always brought me luck,” she said, looking straight into his eyes. + “It may continue to do so, who knows? Alas for you, my friend, you may yet + have to turn to me for consolation. It is the ill-wind that blows nobody + good. Am I not shocking, Mr. Percivail?” + </p> + <p> + They had lost Madame Careni-Amori, who was behind them, shrieking a + command through a port-hole to her maid. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her in amazement. “I don't know what to think of you, Madame + Obosky.” Then he grinned. “Good Lord! You—you can't be making me an + offer of marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid!” she cried. “I have had all I want of marriage, my friend. + You will never catch me doing anything so foolish as that again. No, no! I + do not desire to marry you, Mr. Percivail. Nothing so dreadful as that! + Suppose we would be married,—what zen? Poof! Because I am an honest + woman I would have to tell you some time zat I have had ze honour to be + once the mistress of a Crown Prince,—and then you would hold up your + holy hands and cry out, 'My God, what kind of a woman is this I have + marry?' and—Oh, but I would not tell you about zat Crown Prince + until we have been married a year or two, so do not look so pleased! In a + year you would be hating me so much zat you would rejoice to hear about + the Crown Prince, and I would be loathing you so much zat I would probably + have to kill you,—because I do not believe in divorce any more than + I believe in marriage. You see? Most women hate their husbands. They never + hate their lovers. It is so difficult to get rid of the one, and so easy + to keep the other,—zat is the explanation. So! Now you may know zat + love is the humblest thing in the world, and passion the noblest, for love + is for the weak while passion is for the strong. Love is easily deceived, + passion never. Love endures, passion conquers. Love is blind, passion is + sight itself. Love rules the world, but passion rules love. Love consents, + passion demands. Love is law, passion is life. I could go on forever, but + I see you do not like my discourse. Zat is because you are already in + love, my friend. Poof! You will get over that!” She laughed. + </p> + <p> + Percival was white clear through. He was red-blooded, but at the same time + his heart was clean. Once more he found himself contrasting the + honest-eyed, pure-hearted Ruth with this sensual scoffer. There was no + denying the physical appeal of the lithe, sinuous Russian; there was no + gainsaying the call of the blood. On the other hand, the American girl + stood for everything his own mother exemplified in flesh and spirit. + </p> + <p> + As it is with all men, he was absolutely incapable of associating passion + with the mother who bore him, or with sisters who marry and give them + nieces and nephews to adore. It was impossible, utterly impossible that + they should have possessed the instincts of this woman beside him. But + even as the thought raced through his mind he experienced the sudden, + almost staggering realization that after all the chief, probably the only + difference between his women and Olga Obosky was that they were good! + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me to tell you what I think of you?” he inquired, his eyes + hardening. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said calmly. “But not now. When you have more time, my friend. + I shall be very much interested to hear what you think of me. In the + meantime, I am troubled for you. You are in love with her,—oh, yes, + you are,—and I am very much afraid zat you will lose her if you are + not careful. I am your friend. Be warned in time, Mr. Percivail. She is + sorry for him. Landover. You have humiliated him before all of us. He is + the friend of her family. Go slow, my friend, or she will turn against you + and you will lose her. You have still a good chance. She is more nearly in + love with you than she suspects. A little good judgment on your part, my + friend, and you will win. She will marry you, and when she have done so, + zen you may with impunity toss Mr. Landover in the sea,—but not now, + my friend, not now.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove, you've got me guessing, Madame Obosky,” he exclaimed, frankly + puzzled. “I can't make you out at all.” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Zat is because I am a thousand years old and very, oh, so very wise, Mr. + Percivail,” she returned, with a smile. “Au revoir!” + </p> + <p> + Percival went straight to Captain Trigger. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Captain,” he said at once, “I'm up against it with Landover. He + refuses to take orders from me. I don't want to do anything drastic + without consulting you. If you say I'm to let him off, that's the end of + it so far as I'm concerned. Of course, I can't answer for the rest of the + crowd. But if you say I am to go ahead along the line originally laid out, + I'll do it.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger's eyes, red from loss of sleep, pinched with anxiety, + rested for a few seconds on the three boats coming across the basin. Then + he turned to the young man. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Landover is one of the owners of this steamship line, Percival.” + </p> + <p> + “So I understand, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “He notified me this morning that he will see that I am dismissed from the + service if I continue to support this silly, suicidal plan to build a camp + on shore.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. And you?” + </p> + <p> + “I promptly tendered my resignation as master of this vessel,” answered + the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “You did?” cried Percival, dismayed. + </p> + <p> + “To take effect when I have tied her safely up to her pier in New York,” + said the old man, striking the rail with his fist. + </p> + <p> + “Great!” cried Percival. + </p> + <p> + “He has just come to me with the complaint that you have threatened to + throw him overboard. Is that true, Percival?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,—in a way. I mentioned an alternative.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Landover is no better than any of the rest of us. You will proceed to + throw him overboard, Percival, if he refuses to do his share of the work.” + </p> + <p> + Percival gulped, and then saluted. + </p> + <p> + “Orders, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Orders!” + </p> + <p> + The young man started away, but the Captain called him back. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do after you have had him thrown into the water?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, dammit all,” exclaimed Percival, “what can I do but jump in and save + his life? You don't suppose I'd let him drown, do you? And, God knows, + nobody else would save it. They want to tar and feather him, as it is, or + lynch him, or make him walk the plank.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + The first of the two boats came alongside, and men began to go clumsily, + even fearfully down the ladders. Throughout the early stages of activity + on shore, the passengers and crew went out in shifts, so to speak. + Percival and others experienced in construction work had learned that + efficiency and accomplishment depend entirely upon the concentration of + force, and so, instead of piling hundreds of futile men on shore to create + confusion, they adopted the plan of sending out daily detachments of fifty + or sixty, to work in regular rotation until all available man power had + been broken in and classified according to fitness and strength. For + example, certain men developed into capable wood-choppers, while others + were useless in that capacity. Each successive draft, therefore, had its + choppers, its strippers, its haulers, its “handy men,”—and its + water-boys. Moreover, this systematic replacement of toilers made it + possible for those who were not accustomed to hard, manual labour to + recover from the unusual tax on strength and endurance. + </p> + <p> + It should be explained, however, that this system was not applied to + individuals selected for the purpose of exploration and research. Four + parties, well-armed and equipped, were sent out to explore both sections + of the island. These expeditions had numerous objects in view: to + determine, if possible, whether the island had ever been visited or + occupied by man; to determine the character of the fruits and vegetables; + extent and variety of animal life; the natural food resources, etc. The + groups were made up of men familiar with nature in the rough. Lieutenant + Platt headed one group, Professor Flattner another, a Bolivian ranchman + and an English horse buyer the remaining two. + </p> + <p> + Abel Landover was to have gone out with the first day's shift to work on + the road through the wood. He refused point-blank to leave the ship. This + state of affairs lasted through the next two days, the banker stubbornly + ignoring the advice and finally the commands of Captain Trigger. In the + meantime he had been joined in his rebellion,—a word used here for + want of a milder one,—by half a dozen gentlemen who did a great deal + of talking about how the Turks were maltreating the Armenians, but, for + fear of being suspected of pro-Germanism, studiously avoided pre-war + dissertations on the conduct of the Russians. + </p> + <p> + The first shift's turn had come around once more in the natural order of + things, and practically all of the men had been landed. Landover had + refused to go out with either of the other shifts. He had stood his ground + obstinately. Percival's ultimatum, sweeping like wildfire throughout the + ship's company, brought nearly every one on board to the rails to see + whether he would carry out his threat. Would he dare throw the great + capitalist, this mighty Croesus, this autocrat, into the sea? + </p> + <p> + The first boat carried off Nicklestick, Block, Shine and the other + objectors. Landover was in his stateroom. + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute,” called out Percival to the oarsmen, as they waited for + him to take his place in the last boat. “We're shy a man, I see.” His eye + ranged the deck. His face was a sickly yellow. It would have been white + save for the tan. “Where is Landover?” he demanded of the crowd. + </p> + <p> + Some one answered: “He went to his cabin a couple of minutes ago,” and + another volunteered: “It's Number 9 on the promenade deck.” + </p> + <p> + Half a minute later Percival rapped peremptorily on the door of Number 9. + </p> + <p> + “We're waiting for you, Mr. Landover,” he called out. + </p> + <p> + “Wait and be damned,” came strongly from the stateroom. “The door is + unlocked. If you put a foot inside this room, I'll shoot you like a dog.” + </p> + <p> + “You will have the satisfaction of killing a mighty good dog,” said + Percival, and threw the door wide open. He did not enter the room, + however. Standing just outside the door, he faced the banker. Landover + stood in the centre of the luxurious cabin, a revolver in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I mean exactly what I say, Percival. I will shoot the instant you put a + foot through that door.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe you would,” said Percival, “but, just the same, I'm not + going to chance it. If I ever conclude to commit suicide, I'll go off + somewhere and blow my brains out with my own gun. At present, I have no + thought of committing suicide, so I'll stay right where I am. I didn't + come here to kill you, Mr. Landover. I have no gun with me. I simply came + to tell you that the last boat is leaving, and we are waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + For many seconds the two men looked straight into each other's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Are you coming?” demanded the young man levelly. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not!” + </p> + <p> + Percival's shoulders sagged. His face wore an expression of complete + surrender. + </p> + <p> + “Well,—if you won't, I suppose you won't,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + A triumphant sneer greeted this abject back-down on the part of the + would-be dictator. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so,” exclaimed Landover. “You're yellow. You can bully these + poor, ignorant—” + </p> + <p> + He never finished the sentence. Percival cleared the eight or nine feet of + intervening space with the lunge of a panther. His solid, compact body + struck Landover with the force of a battering ram. Before the larger and + heavier man could fire a shot, his wrist was caught in a grip of steel. As + he staggered back under the impact, Percival's right fore-arm was jammed + up under his chin. In the fraction of a second, Landover, unable to + withstand this sudden, savage onslaught, toppled over backwards and, with + his assailant clinging to him like a wildcat, found himself pinned down to + the spacious, inset washstand. + </p> + <p> + The revolver was discharged, the bullet burying itself in the floor. An + instant later the weapon fell from his paralysed fingers. With his free + left hand he struck wildly, frantically at Percival, but with no effect. + The broad back and shoulders of his assailant proved a barrier he could + not drive past. And that rigid, merciless right arm, as hard as a bar of + steel, was pressing relentlessly against his throat, crushing, choking the + life out of him. He was a strong, vigorous man, but he was helpless in the + grasp of this tigerish young fighter from the slopes of the Andes. He + heard Percival's voice, panting in his ear. + </p> + <p> + “I can keep this up longer than you can. I don't want to break your neck,—do + you understand? I don't want to break your neck, Landover, but if you + don't give in, I'll—I'll—” The pressure slackened perceptibly. + “Say it! Now's your chance. Say you've—got enough!” + </p> + <p> + Landover managed to gasp out the word. He could still feel his eyes + starting from his head, his tongue seemed to fill his mouth completely. + </p> + <p> + Percival released him instantly and fell back a yard or so, ready, + however, to spring upon his man again at the first sign of treachery. No + more than sixty seconds elapsed between the beginning and the end of the + encounter. It was all over in the twinkling of an eye, so to speak. In + fact, it was over so quickly that the first man to reach the door after + the report of the revolver rang out, found the two men facing each other, + one coughing and clutching at his throat, the other erect and menacing. + For the first time, Percival took his eyes from the purplish face of the + banker. They fell first upon a head and pair of shoulders that blocked one + of the two port-holes. He recognized the countenance of Soapy Shay, the + thief. To his amazement, Soapy grinned and then winked at him! + </p> + <p> + “The boat is ready to leave, Landover,” said the victor briskly. “We have + no more use for this thing at present,” he went on, shoving the revolver + under the berth with the toe of his boot. The banker stared past him at + the agitated group in the corridor. The man was trembling like a leaf, not + so much from fear as from the effects of the tremendous physical shock. + </p> + <p> + Percival was a generous foe. He experienced a sudden pity,—a rush of + consideration for the other's feelings. He saw the tears of rage and + mortification well up in the eyes of the banker, he heard the + half-suppressed sob that broke from his lips. Whirling, he ordered the + crowd away from the door. “It's all right,” he said. “Please leave us.” He + addressed Soapy Shay. “Beat it, you!” + </p> + <p> + Soapy saluted with mock servility. “Aye, aye, sir. I saw the whole show. + It was certainly worth the price of admission.” Having delivered himself + of that graceful acknowledgment, he effaced himself. + </p> + <p> + “Just a word or two, Mr. Landover,” said Percival as the crowd shuffled + away from the door. “I am sorry this had to happen. Even now I am not sure + that you fully understand the situation. You may still be inclined to + resist. You are not in the habit of submitting to force, reason or + justice. I am only asking you, however, to recognize the last of these. + You will be happier in the end. I don't give a hang how much you hate me, + nor how far you may go to depose me. I don't want your friendship any more + than I want your enmity. I can get along very nicely without either. But + that isn't the point. At present I am in charge of a gang of workmen. + Every man on this ship belongs to that gang, you with the rest. I ask you + to look at the matter fairly, honestly, open-mindedly. You accuse me of + being high-handed. I return the charge. It's you who are high-handed. You + set yourself above your fellow-unfortunates. You refuse to abide by the + will of the majority. I represent the majority. I am not acting for + myself, but for them. God knows, I am not looking for trouble. This job + isn't one that I would have chosen voluntarily. But now that it has been + thrust upon me, I have no other alternative than to see it through. You + ought to be man enough, you ought to be fair enough to see it in that + light. If conditions were reversed, Mr. Landover, and you were in my + place, I would be the last to oppose you, because I have learned in a very + tough school that it pays to live up to the regulations. Everywhere else + in the world it is a question of capital and labour. Here it is a question + of labour alone. There is no such thing as capital. Socialism is forced + upon us, the purest kind of socialism, for even the socialist can't get + rich at the expense of his neighbour. But I'm beginning to lecture again. + Let's get down to cases. Are you prepared to go out peaceably,—I'll + not say willingly,—and do your share on the job as long as you are + physically able?” + </p> + <p> + “I submit to brute force. There is no other course left open to me,” said + Landover hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then. Come along,—we're wasting valuable time here.” + </p> + <p> + “I will follow you in a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “You will come now,” said Percival levelly. “You and I, Mr. Landover, are + jointly concerned in the establishment of a very definite order of + discipline. We represent the two extremes.” He stood aside. “Precede me, + if you please.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment's hesitation, the other lifted his chin and walked past the + young man. The corridors were clear. Percival followed close behind. He + kept up a glib, one-sided conversation. + </p> + <p> + “You see, there was no other way to handle you. I was obliged to resort to + punitive measures. That's always the case when you are dealing with + sensible, intelligent, educated men. It is impossible to reason with an + intelligent, educated man. He invariably has opinions, ideas, viewpoints + of his own. He is mentally equipped to resist any kind of an argument. + Take our United States Senators, our Congressmen, even our Presidents. You + can't reason with them. No doubt you've tried it a thousand times, you and + the other capitalists. We've all tried it. You've got to hit 'em on the + head with some sort of a club or big stick if you want to bring 'em to + time. You have to club them to death at the polls, so to speak. Now, you + take these wops. They can't argue. They haven't got that sort of + intelligence. They're considerably like the common or garden variety of + dog. No matter how much you beat them and scold them, you can always get + along with them if you feed them and let them see that you're not afraid + of them. If they once get an idea that you are afraid of them,—well, + it's all off. They begin to be sensible right away, and then they form a + labour union. And the more sensible and intelligent they become, the + easier it is for the labour leaders, the walking delegates, and + blood-sucking agitators to make fools of 'em. It's all a matter of + leadership, Mr. Landover, as you will admit, any way you look at it. Well, + here we are.” + </p> + <p> + Landover paused before starting down the ladder to the boat. He turned to + address Percival in a loud, clear voice. + </p> + <p> + “You will not long be in a position to browbeat and bully the rest of us, + young man. Your reign will be short. I would like my fellow-passengers to + know that I have never refused to work with them. I have merely declined + to work under an outlaw. Life is as dear to me as it is to any one else on + this ship. I am taking this step against my will, rather than subject + myself to further indignities and the cruelties you would inflict if I + held out against you. I am sorry to deprive you of the spectacular hit you + might have made by throwing me into the sea, a treat which you doubtless + led all of these people to expect.” + </p> + <p> + He climbed down the ladder and dropped into the boat. As he took his seat, + he ran his eye along the line of faces above. Finding the persons he + sought, he smiled, shook his head slowly to signify a state of + resignation, and then set his flushed, angry face toward the land. + </p> + <p> + Percival, following him, did not look up at the row of faces. + </p> + <p> + Careni-Amori sang that evening in the main saloon. Signer Joseppi, tired + and sore after his hard day's work, wept, and after weeping as publicly as + possible created a profound sensation by kissing the great prima-donna in + full view of the applauding spectators. Then, to cap the climax, he + proclaimed in a voice charged with emotion that Madame Careni-Amori never + had sung better in all her life! This to an artist who had the rare + faculty for knowing when she was off the key,—and who knew that she + was very badly off on this particular occasion. + </p> + <p> + Percival was standing near the door as Ruth Clinton and her aunt left the + saloon on the way to their rooms. He joined them after a moment's + hesitation. The two ladies bowed coldly to him. He was the essence of + decision. As usual, he went straight to the point. + </p> + <p> + “I can't take back what I did this morning, and I wouldn't if I could,” he + said, falling in beside Mrs. Spofford. “I know you are displeased with me. + Can't we thresh it out now, Mrs. Spofford?” + </p> + <p> + The elder woman raised her chin and stared at him coldly. He shot a glance + past her at the girl's face. There was no encouragement to be found in the + calm, unsmiling eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I fail to see precisely why we should thresh anything out with you, Mr. + Percival,” replied Mrs. Spofford. + </p> + <p> + “It is barely possible that you are not quite clear as to my motives, and + therefore unable to gauge my actions.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand your motives perfectly,—and I approve of them. Your + actions are not so acceptable. Good-night, Mr. Percival.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled whimsically at Ruth. “My left hand is rather in need of + attention, Miss Clinton. I suppose I am so deeply in your bad graces that + I may not hope for—er—the same old kindness?” + </p> + <p> + She stopped short. “Is this a request or a command? Mr. Percival, I will + be quite frank with you. Mr. Landover is our friend. I am not, however, + defending him in the position he has taken. There is no reason why he + should not do his share with the rest of the men. But was it necessary to + humiliate him, was it necessary to insult him as you did this morning? He + is a distinguished man. He—” + </p> + <p> + “Are you coming, Ruth?” demanded Mrs. Spofford, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “In just a moment, Aunt Julia.” + </p> + <p> + “You will oblige me by coming with me at once. We have nothing more to say + to this young man.” + </p> + <p> + “I have asked him a question. I shall wait for his answer.” + </p> + <p> + “I will answer it, Miss Clinton, by saying it was necessary,” said he + steadily. “There are other distinguished men here who are further + distinguishing themselves by toeing the mark without complaint or cavil. + Mr. Landover was appealed to on three distinct occasions by Captain + Trigger and the committee. He ignored all private appeals—and + commands. The time had come for a show-down. It was either Landover and + his little band of sycophants, or me and the entire company of men on this + ship. It may interest you to know that you and Mrs. Spofford are the only + two people on board, outside of Mr. Landover's retrievers, who blame me + for what I did this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “You can hardly expect me to be interested in what other people think of + my position, Mr. Percival,” she said, raising her eyebrows slightly. + </p> + <p> + “No more, I dare say, than Landover cares what they think of his,” was his + retort. + </p> + <p> + She lifted her chin. “I am beginning to appreciate Mr. Landover's attitude + toward you, Mr. Percival,” she said icily. + </p> + <p> + “And to justify it, I suppose,” he said dejectedly. “I want your + friendship, Miss Clinton,—yes, I want a great deal more than your + friendship. You may as well know it. I'm not asking for it,—I'm just + telling you. Please don't go away. I promise not to make myself + ridiculous. You have been good to me, you have been wonderful. I—I + can't bear the thought of losing your friendship or your respect. I just + had to bring Landover to time. You may think there was some other way, but + I do not. At any rate, it isn't a matter that we can discuss. Some day you + may admit that I was right, but I don't believe I will ever see the day + when I will admit that I was wrong. Won't—can't we be friends?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe I can ever feel the same toward you after witnessing + what I did this morning,” said she, shaking her head. “You deliberately, + intentionally degraded Mr. Landover in the presence of others. Was that + the act of a gentleman? No! It was the act of an overbearing, arrogant + bully who had nothing to fear. You took advantage of your authority and of + the fact that he is so rich and powerful that he is practically without a + friend or champion. You knew only too well that ninety-nine per cent of + the people on board this ship were behind you in your attack on him + because he represents capital! You had nothing to fear. No, Mr. Percival, + I don't believe we can be friends. I am sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “You heard what Mr. Landover said to me this morning, Miss Clinton,” said + he, paling. “You heard what he called me. Do you believe these things of + me?” + </p> + <p> + She was silent for a moment. “No, I do not,” she replied slowly. “I + believe that you are all you have represented yourself to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said, with gentle dignity. “I am sorry if I have + distressed you this evening. Please don't think too harshly of me when I + say that I just had to find out how we stand, you and I. Now that I know, + I can only promise not to bother you again, and you may rely on my + promises. I never break them. Good-night, Miss Clinton.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed to Mrs. Spofford, who ignored him, and then to Ruth, a wistful + smile struggling to his lips and eyes as he did so. As he turned away, she + spoke to him. + </p> + <p> + “You mentioned your hand being bad again. If you would like me to dress it + for you,—under the circumstances,—I will do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Ruth!” cried Mrs. Spofford in a shocked voice. + </p> + <p> + He put his left hand behind his back. It was the one with which he had + gripped Landover's wrist that morning. The strain had reopened the + partially healed wounds. + </p> + <p> + “I injured it this morning in an encounter with your friend, Miss Clinton. + I can hardly ask you to dress it. Thank you, just the same.” + </p> + <p> + “I know all that happened in Mr. Landover's cabin, but even so, I am ready + and willing to do anything in my power to ease the pain you are + suffering.” She spoke calmly, dispassionately, almost perfunctorily. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. “I shouldn't have spoken of it,” he said. “It isn't so + bad that I can't fix it up myself. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + She joined her aunt and they made their way in silence to the latter's + stateroom. It was not until after the door was safely locked that Mrs. + Spofford delivered herself of the thought that had been in her mind the + whole length of the slanting corridor. + </p> + <p> + “I hope he will not take advantage of his position to—to bully us—to + bully you, dearest,—he might, you know. He has shown himself to be + perfectly capable of it. And we are so defenceless. No one but Abel + Landover to look to for help if he,—for, of course, no one else + would dare oppose this lawless young,—oh, you need not smile! He has + the power and it is quite plain now that he intends to exercise it. He + will brook no interference—” + </p> + <p> + “I am not afraid of Mr. Percival, Aunt Julia,” said the girl, sitting down + wearily on the edge of the berth. “He is a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “A—a gentleman?” gasped Mrs. Spofford. “Good gracious!” + </p> + <p> + “He will not annoy me,” said Ruth, absently study-ing the tips of her + slim, shapely shoes. “Possess your soul in peace. I think I know him.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you defending the braggart?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all! I detest him,” cried the girl, springing to her feet, her + face crimsoning. “He is perfectly abominable.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I wouldn't speak quite so loudly, my dear,” cautioned her aunt, + glancing at the door uneasily—“It would be like him to listen + outside the door,—or at any rate, one of his men may have been set + to spy upon—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be silly, Aunt Julia. And don't be afraid. Mr. Percival isn't going + to make us walk the plank for mutiny, or put us in chains,—or + outrage us,—if that is what you are thinking. Now, go to bed, you + old dear, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I insist on your staying in my room, Ruth. He is in love with you.” + </p> + <p> + “He can be in love with me and still be a gentleman, can't he, Aunt Julia? + Don't worry! I shall sleep in my own room. I may even go so far as to + leave my door unlocked.” + </p> + <p> + “What! And if he should come to—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I shan't send him word that it's unlocked, dear,” scoffed Ruth, + finding a malicious enjoyment in her aunt's dismay. “Good-night. Sleep + tight! We must sleep while we have the opportunity, you know. Our lazy + days will soon be over. He says we've all got to work like,—I think + he said dogs.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear me. I,—I wonder what is to become of us?” moaned the + wretched lady. “After what he tried to do to Abel Landover, there is no + telling to what lengths he may go in—By the way, has Mr. Landover + reported to Captain Trigger that the fellow attempted to shoot him this + morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not, Aunt Julia.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think it is his duty to do so. Captain Trigger should take + drastic means to curb this—” + </p> + <p> + “You forget that Mr. Landover maintains that Captain Trigger and all the + other officers are like putty in the hands of Mr. Percival. I am beginning + to believe it myself. He—he has got them all hypnotized.” + </p> + <p> + “He hasn't got me hypnotized!” exclaimed Mrs. Spofford. + </p> + <p> + “In any case, he is in the saddle,” sighed Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “He deliberately tried to kill Mr. Landover,” said the other. “Is nothing + to be done about it? We heard the shot,—every one heard it. And no + one has the courage to say a word about it! What a lot of cowards we are! + I don't see why he refuses to let me take the matter up with the Captain. + Captain Trigger ought to know the truth.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth was silent for a moment or two. “It's hard for me to believe, Aunt + Julia, that he would attack a defenceless man with a revolver. It—it + doesn't seem like him.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have Abel Landover's word for it, Ruth. The bullet grazed his + head. The coward would have killed him most certainly if he had not + succeeded in knocking the pistol out of his hand and overpowering him.” + </p> + <p> + “If I did not believe Mr. Landover to be an absolutely truthful, + honourable man, I—” began Ruth, a little furrow between her + eyebrows, “well, I might still believe a little in Mr. Percival.” + </p> + <p> + “And what chance had poor Landover with that highwayman, or whatever he + is, pointing a revolver at him through the porthole and threatening to + blow his brains out if he did not throw up his hands and let Percival + alone?” + </p> + <p> + Olga Obosky bandaged Percival's hand. She intercepted him on his way to + Dr. Cullen's cabin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + During the days and weeks that followed, Percival maintained an attitude + of rigid but courteous aloofness. Only on occasions when it was necessary + to consult with Ruth and her aunt on matters pertaining to the “order of + the day” did he relax in the slightest degree from the position he had + taken in regard to them. + </p> + <p> + In time, the captious Mrs. Spofford began to resent this studied + indifference. She detested him more than ever for not running true to the + form she had predicted; her apprehensiveness gave way to irritation. She + resented his dignified, pleasant “good mornings”; she complained acidly to + Ruth about what she was now pleased to describe as “disgusting + superciliousness.” + </p> + <p> + The truth of the matter was, he failed to take any account whatsoever of + Mrs. Spofford in his calculations; he did not even make a pretence of + consulting her in matters relating to the common good of the common + people, and as she was in the habit of devoting a considerable portion of + her time, energy and executive ability to the interests of the common or + lower class people, the omission was an insult. + </p> + <p> + Nor was his cause benefited by the unnecessary and uncalled for deference + he seemed to feel was due her on account of her age. What had her age to + do with it? No one had ever deferred to her age in New York? She was one + to be reckoned with, she was accustomed to the deference that hasn't + anything at all to do with age. And here she was, shunted to one side, + ignored, disregarded,—she who had been the brains and inspiration of + a dozen charitable enterprises, to say nothing of war-work and very + important activities in opposition to Woman Suffrage! + </p> + <p> + She found little consolation in Landover's contention that the upstart was + bound to hang himself if they gave him rope enough, or in Ruth's patient + reminder that Percival was getting results,—and getting them without + bullying anybody. + </p> + <p> + Ruth accepted the situation with a calmness that exasperated her aunt. She + announced her intention to obey any order the “boss” might issue, without + recrimination, without complaint. And so, when the day came for her to go + forth with other women to do her share of the cooking, washing, cleaning, + and later on the more interesting task of putting the huts in order for + occupancy, she went with a full understanding of what was required of her + and without a word of protest. The women with whom she toiled from early + morn till sombre dusk draped the land were under the immediate direction + of a stewardess of many years experience, an Englishwoman whose husband, + an engineer, had been killed at the time of the explosions. + </p> + <p> + Each night she returned to the ship tired and sore but uncomplaining. Her + strong young body stood the test with the hardiest; her spirit was + unflinching; her heart in the common cause. For she looked ahead with a + clear, far-seeing eye, and saw not one but many winters in this vast, + unguarded prison. And she wondered,—wondered day and night,—what + was ahead of her. + </p> + <p> + She was young. The young do not dream of death. They dream of life, and of + its fullness. What did fate have in store for her? Sometimes she + crimsoned, sometimes she paled as she looked ahead. + </p> + <p> + Bare-armed, her heavy sport skirt caught up with pins, her bonny brown + hair loosely coiled, thick golf stockings and sturdy shoes covering her + legs and feet, she presented a figure that caused more than one heart to + thump, more than one head to turn, more than one pair of eyes to follow + her as she went about her work. Her cheeks and throat and breast and arms + were browning under the fire of the noonday sun, her eyes glowed with the + fervour of enthusiasm; her voice was ever cheerful and her smile, though + touched with the blight that lay upon the soul of all these castaways, was + unfailingly bright. And when she returned “home” at night from her + wageless day of toil, she slept as she never had slept before. + </p> + <p> + Her aunt worked in what was known as the salvage corps. She was one of the + clerks employed in checking out the cargo and other materials seized by + the committee of ten, as the leaders in this singular enterprise were + called. Captain Trigger having protested against the dismantling of the + vessel and the confiscation of its cargo,—which was as far as he + could go,—announced that he would abide by any satisfactory plan to + salvage the property. He required an official, documentary report, + however, in which every item removed was accounted for, with its condition + and value set down and sworn to by responsible persons. The purser, Mr. + Codge, and First Officer Mott represented the Captain in this operation, + while the consignees were properly taken care of by Michael O'Malley + Malone, the lawyer, James K. Jones, the promoter, and Moses Block, the + rubber importer. It is unnecessary to deal further with this feature of + the situation. Suffice it to say, the transaction,—if it may be so + denoted,—was managed with the utmost regularity and formality. + Elderly men and women were chosen for the clerical work which this rather + laborious undertaking entailed. + </p> + <p> + On the crest of the loftiest hill there was established a permanent + observation and signal station. Near the top a sort of combination dug-out + and shanty was constructed by order of Captain Trigger, and day and night, + week in and week out, watches were kept similar to those maintained on + board ship. + </p> + <p> + While the entire company, high and low, worked with a zeal that eventually + resulted in a state of good-natured though intense rivalry in skill and + accomplishment,—while they were generally cheerful and courageous,—there + was a profound lack of gaiety. In the eyes of each and every one of them + lay the never-vanishing shadow of anxiety,—an eternal unspoken + question. The hardest, fiercest faces wore a wistful expression; the + broadest smile revealed a touch of sadness. Over all, however, the + surpassing spirit of kindness and generosity presided. + </p> + <p> + Calamity had softened the hearts in the same crucible that hardened the + hands. The arrogance of the strong mellowed into consideration for the + weak; wisdom and culture went hand in hand with ignorance and brawn; + malice and rancour left the hearts of the lowly and met half-way the + departing insolence of the lofty; fellowship took root and throve in a + field rich with good deeds. The heart of man was master here, the brain + its humble servant. + </p> + <p> + Landover worked hard, doggedly. To all outward appearances, he had + resigned himself to the inevitable. He affected a spirit of camaraderie + and good humour that deceived many. Down in his heart, however, he was + bitterly rebellious. He despised these people as a class. In his + estimation, all creatures who worked for a living were branded with the + obnoxious iron of socialism; he even went so far as to believe that they + were, after a fashion, anarchists! His conception of anarchy was rather + far-reaching; it took in everything that was contrary to his notion of a + satisfactory distribution of wealth. He believed that every man who worked + for a wage was at heart an enemy to law and order. He regarded the + wage-earner as one whose hand is eternally against the employer, + absolutely without honour, justice or reason. The workingman was for self, + always for self,—and to Landover that was anarchy. + </p> + <p> + The thought that people,—men and women,—of the lower classes + possessed physical and mental qualities similar to those possessed by + himself, even in a modified form, was not only repugnant to him but + incredible. They had none of the finer emotions,—such as love, for + instance. He could not conceive of a labouring man loving his wife and + children; it wasn't natural! He pictured the home-life of the lower + classes as nothing short of indecent; there couldn't be anything fine or + noble or enduring in the processes of birth, existence and death as + related to them. Nature took its course with them, and society,—as + represented by the class to which he belonged,—provided for the + litters they cast upon the world. In a word, Abel Landover's father and + grandfather and great-grandfather had been rich men before him. + </p> + <p> + He despised Captain Trigger for the simple reason that that faithful, + gallant sailor was an employee of the company in which he was a director. + It meant nothing to him that Captain Trigger came of fine, hardy, valiant + stock; it meant less to him that he was a law unto himself aboard the + Doraine. For, when all was said and done, Captain Trigger worked for just + so much money per month and doubtless hated the men who paid him his wage. + On board the Doraine,—as was the case with all other vessels on + which he chose to sail,—the banker sat at the Captain's table. But + he did not consider that to be a distinction or an honour; it was his due. + As a matter of fact, he looked upon himself as the real head of the + Captain's table! + </p> + <p> + Half a dozen persons in all that company comprised Landover's circle of + desirables. Of the rest, most of them were impossible, three-fourths of + them were “anarchists,” all of them were beneath notice,—except as + listeners. As for Percival, if that young man was not literally and + actually a bandit, at least he had all the instincts of one. In any case, + he was a “bum.” Whenever Mr. Landover was at a loss for a word to express + contumely for his fellow-man,—and he was seldom at a loss,—he + called him a “bum.” + </p> + <p> + The women on board were divided into three classes in Landover's worldly + opinion: the kind you would marry (rare), the kind you wouldn't marry + (plentiful), and the kind you wouldn't have to marry (common). He put Olga + Obosky and Careni-Amori in this rather extensive third class, and even + went so far as to set what he considered a fair value upon them as human + commodities! + </p> + <p> + He worked with the gang of “log-toters,” a term supplied by Percival. They + were the men who carried or dragged the trimmed tree-trunks from the + forest to the camp site, where they were subsequently hewn into shape for + structural purposes by the more skilful handlers of ax and wedge and saw. + </p> + <p> + A certain man named Manuel Crust was the fore-man of this gang. He was a + swarthy, powerful “Portugee” who was on his way to Rio to kill the pal who + had run away with his wife. He was going up there to kill Sebastian Cabral + and live happily for ever afterward. His idea of future happiness was to + sit by the fireside in his declining years and pleasantly ruminate over + the variety of deaths he had inflicted upon the loathsome Sebastian. In + the first place, he was going to strangle him with his huge, gnarled + hands; then he was going to cut off his ears and nose and stuff them into + the vast slit he had made in his throat; then he would dig his heart out + with a machete; then, one by one, he would expertly amputate his legs, + arms and tongue; afterwards he would go through the grisly process of + disemboweling him; and, then, in the end, he would build a nice, roaring + fire and destroy what remained of Sebastian. Inasmuch as either of these + sanguinary and successive measures might reasonably be expected to produce + the desired result, it will be seen that Sebastian was doomed to + experience at least six horrific deaths before the avenger got through + with him. At any rate, if one could believe Manuel,—and there seemed + to be no end of conviction in the way he expressed himself,—the + luckless home-wrecker, if he lived long enough, was absolutely certain to + die. + </p> + <p> + Landover took a strange fancy to Manuel Crust. He was drawn to him in the + first place by the blasphemous things he said about Percival. In the + second place, he enjoyed Manuel's vituperative remarks about cutting the + liver out of the “boss.” Notwithstanding the fact that Manuel was more or + less given to cutting the livers out of remote and invisible persons,—including + King Alfonso, the Kaiser, Queen Victoria (he didn't know she was dead), + King Manuel, the Czar of Russia, the Presidents of all the South American + republics, the Sultan of Turkey, President Roosevelt, and Sebastian + Cabral,—Mr. Landover positively loved to hear him talk. He made a + point of getting him to talk about Percival a great deal of the time. He + also liked the way in which the prodigious Manuel deferred to him. It + inspired the philanthropic motives that led him to share his very + excellent cigars with the doughty foreman. Moreover, he had something far + back in his mind, had Mr. Abel Landover. + </p> + <p> + Percival was indefatigable. He set the example for every one else, and + nothing daunted him. The sceptics,—and there were many of them at + the start,—no longer shook their heads as they went about what once + had loomed as a hopeless enterprise, for to their astonishment and + gratification the “camp” was actually becoming a substantial reality. + </p> + <p> + The small group of men who, for obvious reasons, had courted the favour of + Abel Landover at the outset, now went out of their way to “stand in” with + the amazingly popular man of the hour. + </p> + <p> + He represented power, he stood for achievement, he rode on the crest of + the wave,—and so they believed in him! Landover may have been a + wizard in New York, but the wizard of Trigger Island was quite another + person altogether,—hence the very sensible defection. + </p> + <p> + These gentlemen openly and ardently opposed him on one occasion, however. + It was when he proposed that the island should be named for the beloved + Captain. They insisted that it be called Percival Island. Failing in this, + they advocated with great enthusiasm, but with no success, the application + of Percival's name to almost every noticeable peculiarity that the island + possessed. They objected fiercely to the adoption of such titles as these: + Mott Haven (the basin); Split Mountain; Gray Ridge (after the lamented + Chief Engineer); Penguin Rocks; The Gate of the Winds; Top o' the Morning + Peak; Dismal Forest (west of the channel); Peter Pan Wood (east of the + channel); Good Luck Channel; Cypress Point; Cape Sunrise (the extreme + easterly end of the island); Leap-frog River; Little Sandy and Big Sandy + (the beaches); Cracko-day Farm; New Gibraltar (the western end of the + island); St. Anthony Falls. Michael O'Malley Malone christened the + turbulent little waterfall up in the hills. He liked the sound of the + name, he claimed, and besides it was about time the stigma of shame that + had so long rested upon the poor old saint was rewarded by complete though + belated vindication. + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, no name was ever proposed for the “camp.” Back in the mind + of each and every member of the lost company lay the unvoiced belief,—amounting + to superstition,—that it would be tempting fate to speak of this + long row of cabins as anything more enduring than “the camp.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his dominant personality and the remarkable capacity he + had for real leadership, Percival was a simple, sensitive soul. He writhed + under the lash of conspicuous adulation, and there was a good deal of it + going on. + </p> + <p> + The satiric Randolph Fitts, notwithstanding his unquestioned admiration + for the younger man, took an active delight in denouncing what he was + prone to allude to as Percival's political aspirations. It is only fair to + state that Fitts confined his observations to a very small coterie of + friends, chief among whom was the subject himself. + </p> + <p> + “You are the smartest politician I've ever encountered, and that's saying + a good deal,” he remarked one evening as he sat smoking with a half dozen + companions in front of one of the completed huts. They were ranged in a + row, like so many birds, their tired backs against the “facade” of the + cabin, their legs stretched out in front of them. “You're too deep for me. + I don't see just what your game is, A. A. If there was a chance to graft, + I'd say that was it, but you could graft here for centuries and have + nothing to show for it but fresh air. Even if you were to run for the + office of king, or sultan or shah, you wouldn't get anything but votes,—and + you'd get about all of 'em, I'll say that for you. To a man, the women + would vote for you,—especially if you were to run for sultan. What + is your game?” + </p> + <p> + Percival smoked in silence, his gaze fixed on the moonlit line of trees + across the field. + </p> + <p> + “And speaking of women, that reminds me,” went on Fitts. “When does my + lord and master intend to transplant our crop of ladies?” + </p> + <p> + “What's that, Fitts?” said Percival, called out of his dream. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies,—what about 'em? When do they come ashore to occupy the + mansions we have prepared for them?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Trigger suggests next week.” + </p> + <p> + “What's he got to do with it? Ain't you king?” + </p> + <p> + “He's got a lot to do with it, you blithering boob.” + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” drawled Peter Snipe, the novelist, picking doggedly at the + calloused ridges on one of his palms, “some of the women object to moving + in the dark of the moon. They say it's sure to bring bad luck.” + </p> + <p> + “There's quite a mixup about it,” observed Flattner. “Part of 'em claim + it's good luck. Madame Obosky says she never had any good luck moving by + the light of the moon, and Careni-Amori says she doesn't blame her for + feeling that way. Sort of cattish way of implying that the fair Olga could + get along without any moon at all. Professional jealousy, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “I was speaking to Miss Clinton about it today,” remarked Michael Malone. + </p> + <p> + “What does she think about it?” from Percival. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. She asked me what I thought about it.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did you tell her?” + </p> + <p> + “I told her I wasn't a woman, and that let me out. Being a man, I'm not + entitled to a vote or an opinion, and I'd be very much obliged to her if + she'd not try to drag me into it,—and to answer my question if she + could. Whereupon she said she was in favour of moving by the light of the + sun, and payin' no attention at all to the moon. Which I thought was a + very intelligent arrangement. You see, if they move in the daytime the + damned old moon won't know anything about it till it's too late and—” + </p> + <p> + “You're the first Irisher I've ever seen who wasn't superstitious, Mike,” + broke in Fitts, with enthusiasm. “It takes a great load off my mind. Now I + can ask you why the devil you've never returned that pocket-knife of mine. + I thought you had some sort of superstition about it. A good many people,—really + bright and otherwise intelligent people,—firmly believe it's bad + luck to return anything that's been borrowed. I suppose I've owned fifty + umbrellas in my time. The only man who ever returned one,—but you + know what happened without my telling you. He got caught in a sudden + shower on his way home from my apartment after making a special trip to + return it, and died some three years later of pneumonia. Sick two days, I + heard. So, as long as you're not a bit superstitious about it, I'd thank + you—” + </p> + <p> + “I'd have you know that I never keep anything I borrow,—that is, + never more than a day. It's against my principles. Don't ask me for your + dommed old knife. I lent it weeks ago to Soapy Shay.” + </p> + <p> + “You did?” cried Fitts, incredulity and relief in his voice. “Much + obliged. I haven't been able to look Soapy in the face for a month. Did he + recognize it?” + </p> + <p> + “I think he did. He kissed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Landover tried to borrow my lead pencil yesterday,” remarked Flattner. + “Finally offered to put up his letter of credit as security. I gave him + the laugh. That lead pencil is worth more than all the letters of credit + lumped together. He wanted to write a note. So I agreed to let him use it + if he wouldn't take it out of my sight and on condition that he didn't + write more than five or six line's. But when he made as if he was going to + sharpen it, I threatened him with an ax. Can you beat that for + wastefulness? These low-down rich don't know the meaning of frugality. + Why, if I hadn't stopped him he might have whittled off five thousand + dollars' worth of lead, just like that. I also had to caution him about + bearing down too hard while he was writing.” + </p> + <p> + “What was he wanting to write a note for?” demanded Malone. “Has he lost + his voice?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a note of apology. He says he never fails to write a note of + apology when he's done something he's ashamed of, or words to that effect. + Lifelong practice, he says.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was he apologizin' to?” + </p> + <p> + “That little nurse, Miss Lake,—the one with the coral earrings. You + know, Mike. I saw you carrying a bucket of water for her yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Her name isn't Lake,” said Malone. “It's Hardwickley. And if you had your + eyes open, you'd have seen me carrying one for her every day, so you + would, my lad.” + </p> + <p> + “The damned villain!” exploded Flattner. “He told me her name was Lake,—word + with only four letters,—and she turns out to have—let's see,—eleven! + I call that pretty shifty work, I do. You can't trust these wizards of + Wall Street. They'll do you every crack, if you don't keep your eye + peeled. Hornswoggled me out of seven letters.” + </p> + <p> + “You've got to watch 'em,” mused Fitts. “What was he apologizing to her + for?” + </p> + <p> + “Something to do with his washing. I don't just remember what it was, but + I think she didn't iron and fold his handkerchiefs properly, or maybe it + was his collars. In any case, he panned her for it, and afterwards + repented. Told me in so many words that he felt like a blooming cad about + it, and couldn't rest till he had apologized.” + </p> + <p> + Fitts took several puffs at his pipe and then remarked: “That man has the + biggest wash of anybody in this camp. I don't see any real reason why he + should change collars three times a day while he's hauling logs down from + the hills. As a matter of fact, what's the sense of wearing a collar at + all? Most of us don't even wear shirts. See here, your majesty,—begging + your pardon for disturbing your thoughts with my foot,—why don't you + issue a manifesto or edict or something prohibiting the use of collars + except on holidays, or at weddings, funerals and so forth?” + </p> + <p> + Percival yawned. “If Landover didn't have a collar on he'd think he was + stark naked. Gosh, I'd like to go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you? We'll call you as soon as we get any news,” said Flattner. + </p> + <p> + “No, I'll stick it out a while longer. I say, Flat, it begins to look as + if there's real wheat coming up over there after all. Old Pedro was + telling me today that it looks like a cinch unless we got it sowed too + late and cold weather comes along too soon. I never dreamed we'd get + results. Putting out spring wheat in virgin soil like this is a new one on + me. If it does thrive and deliver, by gosh, a whole lot of agricultural + dope will be knocked to pieces. I thought spring wheat had to be sown in + land that was ploughed the fall before. What's the explanation?” + </p> + <p> + “You can't explain nature, A. A.,” said Percy Knapendyke. “Nature does so + darned many unnatural things that you can't pin your faith to it at all. + Of course, it was a pure experiment we made. We happened to have a lot of + hard spring wheat, and this alluvial soil, deep and rich, was worth + tackling. Old Pedro was as much surprised as I was when it began to come + up. Using that fertilizer was an experiment, too. He swore it wouldn't + help a bit. Now he just scratches his head and says God did it. We've got + fifty acres out there as green as paint and you can almost see it grow. If + nothing happens we ought to harvest it by the middle of February, and if + God keeps on doing things for us, we may get as much as twenty-five + bushels to the acre. It's different with the oats. You can plant oats on + unploughed land, just as we did, and you can't stop it growing. The oats + field up there along the base of the hills is a peach. Takes about ninety + days for oats to ripen. That means we'll harvest it in about two months, + and we'll beat the cold weather to it. Forty or fifty to the acre, if we + have any luck at all. Potatoes doing well and—Say, did I tell you + what I've found out about that stuff growing over there in the lowlands + beyond the river? Well, it's flax. It's the same sort of thing that grows + in New Zealand. Those plants I was pointing out to you last week,—the + ones with the long brownish leaves, like swords. There's no mistake about + it. I took those two Australian sailors over to look at 'em a day or two + ago and they swear it's the same plant, growing wild. Same little capsule + shaped fruit, with the little black seeds, and everything. I've been + reading up on it in the encyclopedia. You cut those leaves off when they + get to be full size, macerate 'em in water for a few days, sun dry 'em, + and then weave 'em some way or another. We'll have to work that out. + Strongest sort of fibre in the leaves. Makes a very stout cloth, rope, + twine,—all that sort of thing. Opens up a new and important + industry, boys,—particularly obnoxious to married men. We'll be + having dress-making establishments in full blast before you know it, and + model gowns till you can't rest. I almost hate to spread the news among + the women. We won't have a cook, or a laundress, or a school-teacher on + the Island if this dressmaking craze gets started. Every hut along this + row will have a sign beside the door: 'Dressmaking Done Here.' On the + other hand, I doubt very much if we'll be able to get a single tailor-shop + going,—and God knows I'll soon need a new pair of pants, especially + if we're going to have regular church services every Sunday, as Percival + says.” + </p> + <p> + “Father Francisco and Parson Mackenzie have finally got together on it,” + said Malone gloomily. “For the first time in the history of civilization + we're going to have a combination Catholic and Protestant Church. It's all + arranged. Father Francisco is going to conduct mass in the morning and + Parson Mackenzie is going to talk about hell-fire in the evening. I was + wondering what the Jews are going to do for a synagogue and a rabbi.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't answer that question,” said Peter Snipe; “but Morris Shine + tackled me the other day to write a play for him, something with music and + dancing in it. He's got a great idea, he says. A stock company to use the + church building once a month. Expects to submit his scheme to Fitts as + soon as he gets it worked out, with the idea of having our prize little + architect provide for a stage with ecclesiastical props in the shape of + pulpits and chancels and so forth, which can be removed on short notice. + Suggests, as a matter of thrift, that footlights be put in instead of + altar candles. Free show, free acting, no advertising bills, no royalties + to authors, free programs,—everything free, including supper.” + </p> + <p> + “Grand little idea, Pete,” said Percival. “Are you going to write the + play?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. My faithful old typewriter is aching to be thumped once more,—and + I've got half-a-dozen extra ribbons, thank God. Good for two long novels + and an epitaph. Just as soon as we can get the ship's printing press and + dining-room type ashore, I'll be ready to issue The Trigger Island + Transcript, w.t.f.—if you know what that means. I see you don't. + Weekly till forbidden.” + </p> + <p> + “I've always wondered what those confounded letters meant down in the + corner of the half-inch advertisements,” said Flattner. “It will be a + rotten-looking newspaper if it's anything like the sheet the Doraine put + out on the trip down. No two letters matched, and some of 'em were always + upside down. Why were they upside down, Pete? You're an old newspaper man. + Tell us.” + </p> + <p> + “Because it's impossible to set 'em sideways. If it was possible, the + blamed printers could do it, you bet. When I was writing leaders on the + Saxville Citizen years ago there was a ruffian up in the composing-room + who used to set whole paragraphs of my best editorials in em quads, and + when I kicked,—Hello, isn't that a lantern, A. A.?” + </p> + <p> + They all scrambled to their feet and peered intently in the direction of + the wooded strip that lined the channel. This whilom conversation came to + an abrupt end. Ghostly forms suddenly took shape in front of other huts, + figures of men that were until then as logs in the shadows. Far off in the + road through the wood, a light bobbed, flashed and disappeared + intermittently, and finally emerged into the open and came steadily + forward. Detached knots of men down the line of huts, twos and threes and + fours, swiftly welded themselves into groups, and, hurrying forward, + swelled the crowd that congregated at the end of the “street.” Two hundred + of them, tired but eager, awaited the arrival of the man with the lantern. + </p> + <p> + These were the men who slept on shore, the unmarried men, those who had no + “feminine hearth,” as Snipe put it dolefully one dark and windy night. + Since supper-time these men had been waiting and watching. But few of them + had gone to bed. Gentleman and roustabout, one and all, were linked + together by a common anxiety. News of the greatest import was expected + during the night. + </p> + <p> + A child was coming to the pathetic little widow of Cruise, the radio-man. + </p> + <p> + Two messengers had gone down to the landing to wait for the report to be + shouted from the afterdeck of the Doraine,—Soapy Shay and Buck + Chizler, the jockey. Now they were returning,—and it was nearing + midnight. + </p> + <p> + They drew near, the lantern buffeting the legs of the one-time diamond + thief as he swung along in the rear of the more active jockey. + </p> + <p> + “It's a girl,” called out Buck to the silent mob. Not a sound, not a word + from the eager crowd. “Mother and kid both doing well,” went on the + jockey, a thrilling note of triumph in his voice. + </p> + <p> + And then a roar of voices went up to the moonlit sky. The shackles of + doubt and anxiety fell away, and every heart swelled with joy and relief. + Men began to dance and laugh. Out in front of the crowd leaped Percival. + </p> + <p> + “Come on now, fellows! Everybody up! Three cheers for the Trigger Island + baby! One—two—three!” + </p> + <p> + And while the last wild cheer was echoing back from, the mountainside: + “Now, three good ones for the baby's mother, God bless her!” + </p> + <p> + Thrice again the exultant yells echoed across the plain, and then out + leaped another excited figure. It was Nicklestick the Jew. + </p> + <p> + “Come on! Come on! Ve got to light the bonfires! Come on! I got the + matches! Vait! Vait! Let's vait while we take off our hats a minute, boys,—take + them off to our baby's father, Jimmy Cruise. No cheers!” + </p> + <p> + A hush fell over the crowd. Every hat came off, and every head was bent. + To many of them James Cruise was no more than a name salvaged from the + shocking experiences of those first dreadful days. Few of them had come in + actual contact with him. The time had been too short. But Betty Cruise, + his widow, was known to all of them, high and low. They had watched over + her, and protected her, and slaved for her, for besides pity there was in + every man's soul the fiercest desire that nothing,—absolutely + nothing,—should be left undone to insure the happy delivery of the + babe they were counting so keenly upon! + </p> + <p> + She was a frail, delicate English girl whom Cruise had married in Buenos + Aires the year before. He was taking her up to his mother's home in + Connecticut. His death,—alas, his annihilation!—almost killed + her. There were those who said she would die of grief. But, broken and + frail as she was, she made the fight. And now came the news that she had + “pulled through.” + </p> + <p> + There were mothers on board with tiny babies,—three or four of them, + in fact,—peevish, squalling infants that innocently undertook to + inspire loathing in the souls of these self-same men. They had no claim + upon the imagination or the sympathy of the eager crowd,—no such + hold as this newcomer, the child born in their pockets, so to speak,—an + expression first employed by an ardent champion of the impending infant in + defending his righteous solicitude when it was attacked by a sophisticated + and at the same time exasperated nurse. + </p> + <p> + Two bonfires were started in the open space known as “The Green.” The huge + piles of twigs and branches had been thrown up earlier in the evening. + They were in plain view of the “lookout” at the top of Split Mountain. It + had been agreed that if it was a boy one fire was to be the signal; if a + girl, two. The “watch” was to share in the glad tidings! + </p> + <p> + The cheering awoke Abel Landover from a sound sleep. He turned in his bunk + and growled: + </p> + <p> + “The damned idiots!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Landover did not like children. He declined to sit up half the night + to find out “how things were going.” So he went to bed, knowing perfectly + well that his three bunkies would come piling in at some outlandish hour + and jabber about the “kid,” and he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep + again for hours. + </p> + <p> + He was what is commonly known as a “grass widower.” His wife rather too + promptly married inside of a month after leaving Reno, and, much to her + own gratification and joy, proceeded to have three very desirable children + within a period of five years, causing him a great deal of pain and + annoyance for the reason that their father had once been regarded as his + best friend,—and now he couldn't abide the sight of him. He hated + children. Now you know the kind of a man he was. + </p> + <p> + Five tired and thoughtful men were going to bed a little later on in one + of the huts. + </p> + <p> + “What shall we call her?” came from Randolph Fitts, as he threw one of his + clay-covered shoes into the corner. + </p> + <p> + “There's only one name for her,” said Percival firmly, from the edge of + his bunk. “We'll call her Doraine.” + </p> + <p> + “Good shot!” cried Peter Snipe. “I had two names in mind, but Doraine's + got 'em both beat. It may not be as pretty as Angelica, but it's more + appropriate. Mortimer was the other name I had in mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Yep,” was the smothered decision of Michael Malone. His shirt came off, + and then he spoke more distinctly. “We can't do better than to name her + after her birthplace. That's her name. Doraine Cruise. It sounds Irish. + Got music in it. All Irish names have,—leaving out Michael and + Patrick and Cornelius and others applied solely to the creatures who don't + take after their blessed mothers and who grow up to be policemen and + hod-carriers, with once in awhile a lawyer or labour-leader to glorify the + saints they were named for, and—Yes, begorry, Doraine's her name.” + </p> + <p> + And so it was that, with an arbitrary quaintness, the babe was named + without so much as a thought of consulting the mother. They assumed a + proprietary interest in her, a sort of corporate ownership that had as its + basis a genuine affection for and pride in Cruise's widow. It did not + occur to one of them that she ought to have been considered in the matter + of naming her own child; they went to sleep perfectly satisfied that when + the question was put to a general vote on the morrow there wouldn't be a + single dissenting voice against the name they had selected. + </p> + <p> + And Mrs. Cruise herself would be very grateful to them for the prompt + assistance they had given her at a time when she was in no condition to be + bothered with minor details! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + The death of Betty Cruise occurred the second day after her baby was born. + In a way, this lamentable occurrence solved a knotty problem and pacified + two warring sexes, so to speak. For, be it known, the women of the Doraine + took a most determined stand against the manner in which the men, viva + voce, had arrogated unto themselves the right to name the baby. Not that + any one of the women objected to the name they had given her; they were, + in fact, pleased with it. But, they protested, this was a matter over + which but one person had jurisdiction, and that person was Betty Cruise. + If it was not a mother's privilege to name her own child,—especially + in a case where the infant's father was in no position to decide the + question for her, whether she consented or no, then all they could say was + that things had come to a pretty pass. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, they were going to see to it that the baby was not named by a + mob! + </p> + <p> + Ruth Clinton went straight to Percival. + </p> + <p> + “I hear you have named the baby, Mr. Percival,” she said, prefacing her + remark by a curt “good morning.” + </p> + <p> + It was the first time she had spoken to him in many days. Their ways not + only lay apart but she had made a point of avoiding him. She stopped him + this morning as he was passing the hut in which she and her aunt were to + live with two of the American nurses. + </p> + <p> + The three young women had spent several days in the making and putting up + of some very unusual and attractive window curtains and portieres; + painting the stones that framed the fireplace, the crude window-casings + and door jamb; and in draping certain corner recesses which were to + achieve dignity as clothes closets. They were scrubbing the floor when + Percival passed on his way to the “office.” + </p> + <p> + His “office,” by the way, was a rude “lean-to” at the extreme outer end of + the street. It was characteristic of him to establish headquarters at a + point farthest removed from the approach to the camp from the ship. Fitts + was perhaps the only person who sensed the real motive back of this + selection. Every one else attributed it to an amiable conclusion on + Percival's part to sacrifice himself for others by walking almost twice as + far as any of them. As a matter of fact, he had nothing of the sort in + mind. He deliberately arranged it so that all operations should be carried + on between headquarters and “home.” It was his plan to drive inward + instead of outward, to push always in one direction. In other words, + thought Fitts quite correctly, he “never had to look behind him for + trouble.” + </p> + <p> + To save his life, Percival could not subdue the eager, devouring gleam + that flashed into his eyes as he looked into hers. He could have cursed + himself. A swift warm flush raced from her throat to her cheeks. Her + direct, steady gaze faltered under fire, and a confused, trapped + expression flickered perceptibly for a moment or two. He mistook it for + dismay, or, on second thought, even worse,—displeasure. + </p> + <p> + “I—I can't help it,” he stammered, surprised into voicing the + thought that was uppermost. “You know how I feel. I—I—” + </p> + <p> + But she had recovered her self-possession. “Do you really think you have + the right to name Mrs. Cruise's baby?” she inquired coolly. + </p> + <p> + He managed a wry, deprecatory smile. “Everybody seems to like the name, + Miss Clinton. The more I think of it myself, the better it sounds. I tried + it out last night in all sorts of combinations. It fits nicely into almost + any family tree—even Nicklestick's. Just say it to yourself. Doraine + Nicklestick. Try any name you like. Doraine Smith, Doraine Humperdinck, + Doraine Landover—even Doraine Shay—and, I tried it out with + Clinton. Doraine Clinton. Don't you like it? I even tried Percival. It + isn't quite so satisfying tacked onto a name like mine,—and it's a + poor beginning for Fitts,—but with good, sensible surnames, it's + fine.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't a question of how it sounds, Mr. Percival.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you like Doraine Clinton?” + </p> + <p> + “I like almost anything better than Ruth. I suppose most people loathe the + names that other people have given them.” + </p> + <p> + “No one knows that better than I. I sometimes wonder what they might have + called me if I were a girl. Nothing as nice as Doraine, or Ruth, I'll bet + my soul on that. Something like Guinevere Aphrodite, or Desdemona Venus, + or—” + </p> + <p> + “We are getting away from the subject,” she interrupted crisply. “Has it + occurred to you that poor little Mrs. Cruise might like to name her own + baby? Why should you men take it upon yourselves to choose a name for her + child? Don't you think you were a trifle high-handed in the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, if Mrs. Cruise doesn't like Doraine, we will—” + </p> + <p> + “You will suggest another, I suppose,” she broke in scornfully. “Well, I + may as well inform you that you are about to strike a snag,” she went on, + a trifle inelegantly in her desire to be emphatic. “We intend to see to it + that the mother of that baby gives it a name of her own choosing.” + </p> + <p> + “May I inquire just who you mean by we?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The women,—three hundred of us, Mr. Percival, that's who. I for one + happen to know that Betty Cruise chose a name long ago. Her heart is set + on naming the baby after her mother,—Judith, I think it is. That's + the name she wants, but do you imagine she will have the hardihood or the + courage, poor little scrap, to oppose you, Mr. Percival? I mean you, + personally. She thinks your word is law. She would no more think of + defying you than she would think of—” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Miss Clinton,” he interrupted gently, “but don't you think + that's a trifle far-fetched? I am not a dictator, you know. I fancy Mrs. + Cruise knows that, even if you do not.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard all about your meeting last night,” she went on ruthlessly, + her eyes flashing. “How you suggested the name, how you settled the + question to suit yourself, and how you called the men together this + morning and told them that the child was to be called Doraine before you + asked them to vote on it. Vote on it! What a travesty! And no one had the + nerve to stand up and say a word for that poor little woman. Oh, you've + got them well-tamed, Mr. Percival.” + </p> + <p> + By this time the two nurses had appeared in the doorway, and several other + women at work down the line, scenting the fray, were approaching. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you'd better call off the vote, Mr. Percival,” said one of the + nurses, eyeing him unflinchingly. + </p> + <p> + “I can't call it off. The men adopted the name unanimously. I have no + right to set aside their decision, no matter how hastily it was made,” + said he, beginning to bridle now that he tasted concerted opposition. + </p> + <p> + “I warn you that I intend to call the women,—and what few men there + are with minds of their own,—together this evening to see that Betty + Cruise gets fair play,” said Ruth. “When she hears that we are behind her, + she'll have the backbone to tell you men to mind your own business and—” + </p> + <p> + “Have I a mind of my own or not, Miss Clinton?” he interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “You certainly have,” she declared with conviction. + </p> + <p> + “Then you may expect me to be one of the men to attend your meeting. Good + morning.” He lifted his hat, smiled and walked briskly away. + </p> + <p> + “He'll crab the whole thing,” observed one of the women, and despite her + vocal rancour there was an admiring expression in her eyes as they + followed him down the road. + </p> + <p> + “If he wants to call that baby Andrew Jackson or George Washington, he'll + have his way,” said another. “Sex won't make any difference to him.” + </p> + <p> + “You just wait and see,” said Ruth, quivering with indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy, how you must hate him, Miss Clinton,” cried one of her + house-mates. + </p> + <p> + “I only wish I were a man,” cried the other, clenching her fists. + </p> + <p> + “It would simplify matters tremendously,” came in dry, masculine tones + from the outskirts of the group. They turned and discovered Randolph + Fitts. He was smiling sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “I don't quite see what you mean, Mr. Fitts,” said Ruth, after a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Because if you were a man, Miss Clinton, you wouldn't even think of + hating him. You'd love him.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Clinton stared at him for a second or two and then, whirling, entered + the hut. Her cheeks were burning. Who shall say whether the tears that + sprang to her eyes as she fell to work scrubbing in the corner were of + anger or self-pity? + </p> + <p> + Briefly, the situation became quite strained as the day wore on. Women + gathered in little knots to discuss the unprecedented “nerve” of the men. + By nightfall they were pretty thoroughly worked up over a matter that had + mildly amused them at the outset of the day. A comparatively small + proportion had cared one way or the other in the beginning. Most of them + did not care at all. Given time, however, to digest the thought, aided by + such seasoning as could be supplied by a half dozen determined and more or + less eloquent voices, they came in the course of a few hours to the + conclusion that they never had heard of anything so outrageous, and, to a + woman, were ready to fight for little Mrs. Cruise's rights! + </p> + <p> + Several of the stewardesses and two or three women from the second cabin + were avowed and bitter suffragettes. Indeed, two of the stewardesses, + being English, were of the hatchet-wielding, brick-throwing element that + made things so warm for the pained but bull-headed male population of + London shortly before the Great War began. These ladies harangued their + companions with great effect. + </p> + <p> + To have heard or witnessed the little gatherings at noon and at the close + of work for the day, one might have been led to believe that a grave, + portentous ques-tion of state was involved. Trifling and simple as all + this may seem to the reader of this narrative, it serves a definite + purpose. It reveals to a no uncertain degree the eagerness with which + these castaways reached out hungrily for the slightest morsel that would + satisfy the craving of active minds dulled by the constant, never-absent + thought of self; minds charged with thoughts that centred on something + thousands of miles away; minds that seldom if ever worked in harmony with + hands that toiled. + </p> + <p> + The men took up the gauntlet. They considered themselves challenged. + Notwithstanding the secret conviction that the women were right, they + stood united in defence of their action. Nothing that Percival could say + or do moved them. He tramped from one group of toilers to another, always + meeting with the same grins and laughter when he suggested that they wait + until Mrs. Cruise was able to approve or disapprove of the name they had + chosen. + </p> + <p> + “Good gosh!” cried one of the sailors. “Are you goin' to give in to the + women, boss?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've been thinking it over, boys. I guess we were a little too + officious. We meant well, God knows, but after all, Betty Cruise ought to + be consulted,—now, oughtn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” cried any number of them cheerfully. “It's her kid.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there you are,” he rejoined persuasively. + </p> + <p> + “But how do we know she won't be tickled to death with our name? She'd + ought to be. It's purtier than any name I can think of,” argued Jack + Wales, a sailor. “When she's well enough, we'll tell her the kid's name is + Doraine, and—” + </p> + <p> + “She won't hold back a second, boss, when she finds out that you picked it + for her,” broke in another. “Only a couple o' days ago she was sayin' to + one of the other women in my hearin' that if it was a boy she was goin' to + call him Percival,—and she didn't know what on earth she'd do if it + was a girl. Said she'd probably have to call it after her mother and she + didn't like her mother's name a little bit.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, but after all, we did butt in a trifle too soon with our—” + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, don't let any of these here women hear you talk like + that, boss,” groaned Jack Wales. “They'll think we're beginning to hedge. + We got to stand together in this thing. If we don't, they'll rule this + camp sure as you're a foot high. I don't give a dern what the kid's name + is, far as I'm concerned, but on principle, boss, it's just got to be + Doraine. Doraine she is an' Doraine she stays.” + </p> + <p> + Every one of them was good-humoured about it. They were taking it as a + rare and unexpected bit of politics. The thrill of opposition invested + them. They scoffed at surrender. + </p> + <p> + Buck Chizler, however, was seriously affected. He was courting one of the + nurses and he, for one, saw peril in preliminary defeat. + </p> + <p> + “There won't be any living with 'em,” he proclaimed, scowling darkly. “I + know what it is to have 'em get the bit in their teeth. You just can't + manage 'em, that's all. Upset all the dope. Likely to throw you clear over + the fence. Experience ain't a particle of use. The gad don't do a bit of + good. They just shut their jaws, lay back their ears, and—” + </p> + <p> + “We're not talking about race-horses, Buck,” interrupted Percival, + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Neither am I,” said Buck forcibly. + </p> + <p> + Ruth went to Olga Obosky. She did so only after a rather prolonged inward + struggle. The Russian's interest in Percival was not moderated by the + reserve supposed to be inherent in women. She was an open idolatress. One + had only to watch the way she followed him with her dark, heavy-lidded + eyes to know what was in her mind. Ruth tried not to despise her. She + tried not to care, when she saw Percival laughing and talking with this + beguiling sensualist,—and it was not an infrequent occurrence. + </p> + <p> + The dancer was seated on the floor of her hut, tailor-fashion, a cigarette + between her lips, her bare arms resting limply on her knees, her body bent + forward in an attitude of extreme fatigue. The three “coryphees” were busy + at work about the place with Olga's maid. Ruth stopped in the doorway. + Olga lazily removed the cigarette from her lips and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I once thought I was very strong and unbreakable,” she said, “but now I + know I am not. See, I am all in, as we would say in America. Suffering + snakes,—how tired I am! That also comes from America. Won't you sit + down, Miss Clinton? We have three or four deck chairs, you see, and some + cushions.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you sit there on the floor, all doubled up and—heavens, it + must be uncomfortable,—if you are so tired? How do you manage your + legs?” + </p> + <p> + “My legs? Oh, my legs are never tired. It is my poor back.” Whereupon she + slowly, gracefully straightened out one of her legs, and without changing + the position of her body, raised it, with toes and instep on a perfect + line, until the heel was some three feet from the floor. Then she swung it + slowly backward, twisting her body sinuously to one side. A moment later + the foot was stretched out behind her and she lifted herself steadily, + without apparent exertion, upon the other knee,—and then stood + erect. Ruth watched this remarkable feat in wonder and admiration. + </p> + <p> + “How—how on earth do you do it?” she cried. “Why,—you must be + as strong as—as—a—” She was about to say horse, and + floundered. + </p> + <p> + “But I trust not as clumsy as one,” said Madame Obosky, stretching her + body in luxurious abandon. “I sit on the floor like zat, my friend, + because my back is tired, not my legs. If I lie back in ze deck chair when + I am tired, I would relax,—and would make so much more regret for + myself when the time came to get up again. Besides, it is a good way to + rest, zis way. Have you never tried it? Do, sometime. The whole body + rests, it sags; the muscles have nothing to do, so they become soft and + grateful. The backbone, the shoulders, the neck,—they all droop and + oh, zey—they are so happy to be like zat. It is the same as when I + am asleep and they are not running errands all the time for my brain. The + Arab sits like zat when he rests,—and the Hindoo,—and they are + strong, oh, so very strong. Try it, sometime, Miss Clinton, when you are + very tired. It is the best way to let go, all over.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth laughed. “I couldn't do it to save my soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I do not mean for you to get up as I did, or use your leg as I did. + You could not do zat. You are too old. That is one of the fruits, one of + the benefits of the cruelest kind of child labour. I was a great many + years in making myself able to do zat. See! Put your hand on my leg. Now + my back,—my arm. What you think, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Ruth, in some embarrassment, had shyly obeyed her. The dancer's thigh was + like a column of warm iron; her waist, free as ever from stays, was firm + and somehow suggestive of actual resilience; her shoulders and back + possessed the hard, rippling muscles of a well-developed boy; her shapely + forearm was as hard as steel. Ruth marvelled. + </p> + <p> + “How strong you are!” she cried; “and yet you are slight. You are not as + big as I am, but oh, how much stronger you are!” + </p> + <p> + “I have a perfect figure,” said Olga calmly. “It is worth preserving. No + one admires my body so much as I do myself. I must not get fat. When you + are a fat old woman, I shall still be as I am now. You will diet, and + pray, and rave,—because you are growing old,—and I shall do + none of these things. I eat like a pig, I never pray, and I do not believe + in growing old. But you do not come to see me about myself, Miss Clinton. + You find me sitting idly with my legs crossed, and you are surprise. I + work as I dance,—very, oh, so very hard while I am at ze task,—but + with frequent periods of rest. So I do not wear out myself too soon. It is + the only way. Work for an hour, rest for ten minutes,—relax and + forget,—and you will see how well it goes. Why do you come? Is it to + talk about the baby?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is, Madame Obosky. I have come to ask you to use your influence + with Mr. Percival. You—” + </p> + <p> + “But I have no influence with Mr. Percivail,” interrupted the other, + staring. + </p> + <p> + Ruth flushed. “You are his friend. You—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes,—but nothing more than zat. You too are his friend, Miss + Clinton.” + </p> + <p> + “I see little or nothing of Mr. Percival,” said Ruth stiffly. “We are not + friends,—not really friends.” + </p> + <p> + “But you admire him, eh? Quite as much as I admire him,—and as every + one else does.” + </p> + <p> + “There are certain things about him that I admire, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “You admire him for the same reason that I admire him. Because he has a + most charming and agreeable way of telling me to go to the devil. Is that + not so?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Obosky!” + </p> + <p> + “It comes to the same thing. If you would like me to put it in another + form, he has a very courteous way of resisting. He is most aggravating, + Miss Clinton. He is most disappointing. He should be like soft clay in our + hands, and he isn't. Is that not so?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not possible, Madame Obosky, that we,—you and I,—may + have an entirely different viewpoint so far as Mr. Percival is concerned? + Or any other man, for that matter?” Ruth spoke coldly, almost insultingly. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say,” agreed Olga, composedly, not in the least offended by the + implication. “You want to marry him. I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “How dare you say that? I do not want to marry that man. I do not want to + marry him, I say.” + </p> + <p> + “How interesting. You surprise me, Miss Clinton. It appears, then, that + our viewpoint is in nowise different, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “I leave it to your imagination,—and to reflection. Listen! We may + as well be friends. You do not wish to admit it, even to yourself, but you + are in love with him. So am I. The difference between us is that I realize + I can get along without him, and still be happy. I am not jealous, my + dear. If I were, I should hate you,—and I do not. He is in love with + you. You know it perfectly well, because you are not a fool. He is not in + love with me. No more am I a fool. He—” + </p> + <p> + “I am not in love with him!” + </p> + <p> + “So be it,” said Olga shortly. “Have your own way about it. It is not my + affair. You have come to me, however, because you know he loves you and + you know you do not love him. Why, therefore, are you afraid of me?” + </p> + <p> + “It is useless to continue this—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see! You do not wish my girls to hear our conversation.” Without + more ado, she ordered the three girls out of the hut. “Go out and play,” + she commanded. Then, as the girls imparted in haste, she turned to Ruth. + “I am very thoughtless. You are not in the habit of discussing your love + affairs quite so generously as I. Poof! They do not care, those girls. + Love affairs mean nothing to my girls.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no love affair to discuss, Madame Obosky. You need not have sent + them away. Good-bye..There is nothing more to be said—” + </p> + <p> + “Do not go away,—please. You do not know whether to like me or not. + You do not understand me. You have never encountered any woman as honest + as I am, zat is the trouble. Sit down, please. Let us talk. We may be here + together on this island all the rest of our lives, Miss Clinton. It would + not be right for us to hate each other. When you are married to Mr. + Percivail, you will have nothing to fear from me. I give you my solemn + oath on zat, Miss Clinton. Our little world here is too small. If we were + out in the great big world,—well, it might be different then. But, + how, I ask you, is it possible for me to run away with your husband when + there is no place to run away to?” + </p> + <p> + She spoke so quaintly that Ruth smiled in spite of herself. + </p> + <p> + “You are a most extraordinary person, Madame Obosky. I—I can't + dislike you. No, thank you, I sha'n't sit down. I came to see you about + the naming of the baby. I suppose you know that we women have decided to + oppose the—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,—I know,” interrupted the other. “But why should we + oppose? It is a very small matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really believe those men had—or have—the right to give + a name to Betty Cruise's baby? I don't believe it, Madame Obosky.” + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, can you blame Mr. Percivail for taking the matter out + of the mother's hands? Mothers are very, oh, so very stupid sometime, you + know. For example, my dear Miss Clinton, you have but to see what Mr. + Percivail's mother did to him when he was an infant. She called him + Algernon Adonis,—and why? Because she thought he was the most + wonderful child in all the world,—and because she was silly. I can + almost hear her arguing now with the father, poor man. One day I asked + Algernon Adonis what name his father called him by,—I was so sure he + would not call him Algernon. He said that up to the day his father died he + called him Bud. That's a toy's name, you see. I am in favour of children + being named by outsiders, disinterested outsiders,—a committee or + something,—men preferably. I think this child should be called + Doraine. Betty Cruise she do not care what she call it now that it is not + possible to call it Jimmy Percivail or Percivail Jimmy. Has it occur to + you that if it had been a boy, all these men would have insisted on Jimmy, + without the Percivail?” + </p> + <p> + “I like the name Doraine,—we all do. What we resent is Mr. + Percival's presumption in—” + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you one more thing. Do not permit Mr. Percivail to address + your indignation meeting tonight, for if you do, and he smiles zat nice, + good-humoured smile and tells the ladies zat he is sorry to have displease + them, and zat he is to blame entirely for the blunder,—poof! Zat + will be the end!” + </p> + <p> + “I am not so sure of that,” said Ruth. “There are some very determined + women among us, Madame Obosky.” A faint line appeared between her eyes, + however,—a line acknowledging doubt and uncertainty. “And you will + not join us in the protest?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Olga, shaking her head. “I am content to let the men have their + way in small things, Miss Clinton. It makes zem—them so much easier + to manage when it comes to the big things. I speak from experience. Once + let a man think he is monarch of all he surveys and he becomes the most + humble of subjects. As I have said before, we may all be here for a long, + long time. No one can tell. So, I say, we must pat our men on the back and + tell zem what great, wise, strong fellows they are,—and how good and + gallant too. Then they will fight for us like the lion, and zey—they + will work for us like the ass and the oxen, because man he enjoys to be + applauded greatly. A man likes to have his hair rubbed gently with the + finger tips. He will smile and close his eyes and if he knew how he would + purr like the cat. But, my dear, he do not like to have his hair pulled. + Zat is something for you to remember,—you and all your determined + women, as you call them.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you understand, Madame Obosky, I—and the other women,—are + thinking only of Betty Cruise in this matter.” + </p> + <p> + “From what I have been told, all these men out here stayed awake half the + night thinking about her, Miss Clinton. They behave like so many + distracted fathers waiting for news from the bed-chamber. Bless their + hearts, you might think from their actions that the whole two—three + hundred of them consider themselves the consolidated father of zat single + infant.” + </p> + <p> + “I must be getting back to my work,” said Ruth abruptly. Her eyes were + shining, her voice was soft and strangely thick. “But,” she went on + bravely, after clearing her throat, “we intend to fight it out with them, + just the same, Madame Obosky.” + </p> + <p> + Olga went to the door with her. + </p> + <p> + “You mean, you intend to fight it out with Mr. Percivail,—you + yourself, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not a personal matter with me, let me remind you once more. He is + their leader. He dominates them. He is the force that holds them together. + That's all.” + </p> + <p> + “And you would render that force impotent, eh? I see. How wise you women + are!” + </p> + <p> + Ruth stopped short, struck by the remark. “Say that again, please.” + </p> + <p> + Olga repeated the words slowly, significantly, and added: “They might have + a worse leader, Miss Clinton.” + </p> + <p> + At another time, Ruth Clinton would have been deeply impressed by the + underlying significance of the Russian's words. But she was at the mercy + of a stubborn, rebellious pride. She chose to ignore the warning that lay + in Obosky's remark. She felt herself beaten, and she was defiant. It was + too late to hark now to the mild, temperate voice of reason. + </p> + <p> + Something rankled deep down in her soul, something she was ashamed to + acknowledge even to herself. It was the disagreeable conviction that + Percival ascribed her activities to nothing more stable than feminine + perversity,—in fact, she had the uncomfortable feeling that he even + went so far as to attribute them to spitefulness. Something in his voice + and manner, as he left her that morning, suggested the kindly chiding of a + wilful child. Well, he should see! + </p> + <p> + “I don't care what it all comes to, Madame Obosky,” she said, a red spot + in each cheek. “He shall not name that baby.” + </p> + <p> + The Russian smiled. “Forgive me for saying that you will not feel so + bitterly toward him when the time comes for him to name your baby.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth's lips fell apart. She stared for a moment in sheer astonishment. + Then she paled with anger. Drawing herself to her full height, she asked: + </p> + <p> + “Are you deliberately trying to make me despise you?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means,” replied the other, quite cheerfully. “I am merely giving + you something to think about, zat is all.” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish!” was all that Ruth flung over her shoulder as she walked away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + It was the noon hour. Scores of men were resting in the shade of the huts + as she strode briskly past. They all smiled cheerily, but there was good + humoured mockery in their smiles. Here and there were groups of women + talking earnestly, excitedly. + </p> + <p> + Abel Landover was leaning in his doorway, watching her approach. His eyes + gleamed. She was very beautiful, she was very desirable. She had been in + his mind for months,—this fine, strong, thoroughbred daughter of a + thoroughbred gentleman. His sleeves were rolled up, his throat was bare; + his strong, deeply lined face was as brown as a berry; if anything, his + cold grey eyes were harder and more penetrating than in the days when they + looked out from a whiter countenance. He was a strong, dominant figure + despite, the estate to which he had fallen,—a silent, sinister + figure that might well have been described as “The Thinker.” For he was + always thinking. + </p> + <p> + “I understand you tackled the 'boss' this morning, Ruth,” he said as she + came up. + </p> + <p> + “I daresay the news is all over the island by this time,” she replied, + still angry. + </p> + <p> + “Was it worth while?” he inquired, a trace of derision in his voice. + </p> + <p> + She was on the point of replying rather emphatically in the negative, when + suddenly she recalled the look in Percival's eyes and the first words he + spoke to her. She caught her breath. Her eyes sparkled, her lips parted in + a rosy smile. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Landover, it was worth while,” she said, and went on, leaving + him to reflections that were as perplexing as they were unanticipated. + </p> + <p> + She experienced a short spell of triumph. After all, Percival was in love + with her. She did not need Olga Obosky to tell her that. She could see, + she could feel for herself. A certain glee possessed her,—indeed, as + she afterwards succeeded in analysing the sensation, it bordered decidedly + on malice. She had it in her power to make him miserable and unhappy. She + would enjoy seeing him unhappy! + </p> + <p> + The meanness of the woman who longs to injure the man who loves her, + whether loved or unloved, revealed itself for the moment in this + fair-minded, generous girl. (It is a common trait, admitted by many + fair-minded and generous women!) But even as she coddled and encouraged + the little sprout of vengeance, the chill of common-sense rushed up and + blighted it. + </p> + <p> + She had a sickening impression that Percival would fail to play the part + according to her conception. In fact, he was quite capable of not playing + it at all. He would pursue the even tenor of his way—(she actually + made use of the time-honoured phrase in her reflections),—and she + would get small satisfaction out of that. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, there was Olga Obosky to be reckoned with. She was conscious of + a hot, swiftly passing sense of suffocation as the thought of Olga rushed + unbidden into her brain,—for an instant only,—and then came + the reaction: a queer chill that raced over her body from head to foot. + What part would Olga Obosky play in the game? + </p> + <p> + The women congregated on the forward deck of the Doraine after supper that + night. The evening repast was no longer dignified by the word dinner. The + sky was inky black; not a star flickered in the vault above. There were + low, far off mutterings of thunder. The rail lanterns,—few and far + between,—threw their pallid beams down into the rippling basin in a + sickly effort to penetrate the gloom. + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger and Mr. Mott, smoking their pipes on the makeshift bridge, + studied the throng of women in dour silence. + </p> + <p> + “I understand the farmers are praying for rain,” remarked Mr. Mott, + sniffing the air with considerable satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “It would do no end of good,” said Captain Trigger, without taking his + eyes from the chattering mass below. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Codge, the purser, joined them. + </p> + <p> + “What are they waiting for?” he asked. “Why don't they call the meeting to + order?” + </p> + <p> + “They did that half an hour ago,” said Mr. Mott. “Good Lord, man, can't + you hear them talking? Have you no ears at all?” + </p> + <p> + “But they're all talking at once.” + </p> + <p> + “And why shouldn't they?” demanded the First Officer. “It's their meeting, + isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “I met Miss Clinton as I was coming up. She was going to her room. I asked + her how the meeting was getting along. I don't believe she understood me, + because all she said was 'good-night.'” + </p> + <p> + “I guess she understood you, all right,” said Mr. Mott, again sniffing the + air. “Seems to me it's getting a little nearer, Captain Trigger. There's a + little breeze coming up, too.” + </p> + <p> + “A good thunder-storm,—” began the Captain, musingly, but failed to + complete the sentence. + </p> + <p> + “Would settle something besides the dust,” said Mr. Codge, after a + deferential wait of a few seconds. + </p> + <p> + A figure detached itself from the mass on the weirdly lighted deck below + and, approaching the perch of the three officers, came to a halt almost + directly below them. The light of a lantern fell fairly on the upturned, + smiling face of Olga Obosky. + </p> + <p> + “What is the hour, Captain Trigger?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Almost nine, Madame Obosky. + </p> + <p> + “That is nearly two bells, eh, yes? How peaceful you look up there, you + three old owls.” + </p> + <p> + “Come up!” invited the Captain cheerily. She joined them a moment later. + “Tell me, are they leaving a shred of Percival and his band of outlaws?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Codge struck a match and held it for her to light a cigarette. She + inhaled deeply and then expelled the smoke in what seemed like a prolonged + sigh of satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “They are very funny, those women,” she said, placing her elbows on the + rail and looking down at the crowd. “Do you know what the trouble is now? + It is this: they cannot think of a way to condemn the action of those men + as a body without also including Mr. Percivail in the verdict.” + </p> + <p> + “How's that?” + </p> + <p> + “Ninety-five per cent, of them want to exonerate Mr. Percivail, but they + don't know how to do it in view of the fact that he is the guiltiest man + of them all. That's why I say they are very funny, those women. They + approve of what he has done in naming the baby, because whatever he does + must be right, but they are almost unanimous in charging that all the + other men out there were wrong. So they are in a great dilemma.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Trigger laughed. “I see. What was Miss Clinton's position in the + debate?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she was one of those who insisted that Mr. Percivail alone be held + accountable, the other men not at all. She was the chairman, you see, and + they were oblige to listen to her at first. But zen, presently, one of + those Brazilian ladies said it was a shame to put all the blame on dear + Mr. Percivail, who is such a gentleman and so splendid and all zat,—and + zen—then zat Mrs. Block jump up and say that if it was not for Mr. + Percivail her husband would have been killed last week when he fell off of + the landing into ten sousand feet of water. And the great Careni-Amori she + get up and say she would die for Mr. Percivail because he is such a + gentleman, and two of those nurses at the same time cry out that he ought + to be in the hospital because he is so worn-out working for other people + zat he can hardly drag his poor feet around. And so it goes. Miss Clinton + has departed, her chin in the air. But she does not deceive me. She has + gone to her room to have a good weeping.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wish they'd get together on something,” growled the Captain; + “so's we can all go to bed and get a few hours' sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Like as not they're keeping the baby awake with all this jabbering,” said + Mr. Codge. “And that isn't good for babies, you know. They've got to have + plenty of sleep. Specially little ones.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me, Captain Trigger, why Mr. Percivail did not come aboard + tonight?” asked Olga suddenly. “They were expecting him.” + </p> + <p> + “And they were disappointed, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say. At any rate, a good many of them kept peering out over the + water most of the time, and listening for the sound of oars.” She laughed + softly. + </p> + <p> + The men chuckled. “Talk about strategy,” said Mr. Mott, “he's a bird at + it. Keeps 'em guessing, he does. By glory, I wish I'd known how to handle + women as well as he does. I might have been married fifteen or twenty + times if I could have kept 'em anxious and worried,—but I couldn't. + I never did have any sense about women. That's why I'm a bachelor instead + of a grandfather.” + </p> + <p> + “He told Miss Clinton he was coming,” said Olga, harking back to the + unanswered question. + </p> + <p> + “I daresay he changed his mind,” said the Captain, rather evasively. + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe zat. There is some other reason. He is not a woman, + Captain Trigger.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, to tell you the truth—but don't let it go any farther, + Madame,—he came aboard just before supper to find out how Mrs. + Cruise is getting along. Dr. Cullen told him exactly what all these women + down there know,—that she's very low,—so he went ashore. Said + something about not wanting to take part in any racket that might disturb + her,—noisy talk, and all that,—and left a bunch of wild + flowers for her in case she was better by morning.” + </p> + <p> + There was a slight noise behind them. Turning, they saw the figure of a + woman in the shadow of the deck house. + </p> + <p> + “Who's there?” demanded Mr. Mott. + </p> + <p> + Ruth Clinton stepped forward into the light. + </p> + <p> + “Did he—did he do that?” she asked huskily. + </p> + <p> + “He did,” said the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “And is she so very ill? I did not know, Captain Trigger.” + </p> + <p> + “She's likely to die, Miss Clinton,—poor little woman.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth was silent for a moment. Then: “Do you think she—she can hear + all that hubbub down there?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure she cannot. But Percival was afraid she could, so he—well, + he thought it best not to make it any worse by adding his groans of agony + when you women tore him limb from limb out here on deck. That's the way he + put it, so don't look at me like that.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth suddenly hung her head and walked away. As she disappeared down the + steps, Mr. Codge remarked, sotto voce: + </p> + <p> + “She isn't as rabid as she was, is she?” + </p> + <p> + “She's got it in for Percival ever since he took that fall out of + Landover,” said Mr. Mott. + </p> + <p> + “Think she's—er—keen on Landover? He's a good bit older than + she is,—twenty years or so, I should say.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask me, Codge. As I was saying awhile ago, I don't know anything + whatsoever about women. They know all about me, but, gosh, I'm worse than + a baby goat where they're concerned. There's no law against her being in + love with Landover, and there's no law against him marrying a woman fifty + years younger'n himself if he feels like it. Now you take that good + looking Russian over there talking to the Captain. Who knows what's in her + mind? Nobody, sir,—nobody. All I know is that Landover tried to—” + </p> + <p> + “Sh! They've got ears like cats,” cautioned Mr. Codge. + </p> + <p> + “—And she put him in his place so quick it made his head swim. + That's why he's got it in for her so hard. He says she's not fit for + decent women to associate with. On the other hand, if she had been willing + to flirt a little with him, and so on, he would have said all the other + women were cats if they refused to take up with her. That's a man all over + for you, Codge. I hope Miss Clinton ain't considering getting married to + that man. He's one of these here what-do-you-call-'ems? Er—” + </p> + <p> + “Sybarites?” said Codge, who had picked up a good deal from conversations + with Peter Snipe. + </p> + <p> + “That ain't the word,” said Mr. Mott. “Now, I'll lay awake all night + trying to think of that word. Damn the luck!” + </p> + <p> + He fell into a profound state of mental concentration, from which he was + aroused a few minutes later by the swift and almost unheralded shower that + rushed up ahead of the thunderstorm. The rumble of the “apple carts” in + the vault above had suddenly become ominous, and there were fitful flares + of light in the blackness. + </p> + <p> + The indignation meeting broke up in a wild scurry of skirts. It is worthy + of mention that nothing definite had transpired. The speeches of the + ardent suffragettes from the wilds of London were all that the most + exacting could have demanded, for they covered all of the known and a + great many of the unsuspected iniquities that the masculine flesh is heir + to, but except for an introductory sentence or two they failed to touch + upon the object of the meeting. They all began with something like “While + I am frank to admit that Doraine is a very pretty name,” or + “Notwithstanding the fact that Doraine is a lovely name,” or “If I had a + child of my own, I should not in the least object to calling her Doraine,” + and so on and so forth, but they cruelly abandoned the baby in the next + breath, leaving it to be revived by the ensuing speaker. + </p> + <p> + The rain came just in time to prevent a vote being taken on a motion made + by Miss Gladys Spotts. She moved that a committee of three be appointed to + serve notice on Captain Trigger, et al, that it was the unanimous sense of + the meeting that the women should not only have voice and vote on all + public questions, but also representation in the official government. She + had learned that there was talk of electing a mayor, a town clerk, a + treasurer, a sheriff and a board of commissioners, and it ought to be + understood in advance that— + </p> + <p> + The torrent came at that instant, but it requires a very slight stretching + of the imagination in order to understand precisely what Miss Spotts + insisted ought to be understood. + </p> + <p> + It rained very hard all night, and thundered, and lightened, and blew + great guns. Not one, but all of the women, tucked away in their bunks, + wondered how those poor men were faring out there in that black and lonely + camp! + </p> + <p> + The next morning it was still raining. (In fact, it rained steadily for + three days and nights.) Betty Cruise died shortly after daybreak, and with + her death ended the controversy over the naming of her babe. + </p> + <p> + She was the first to be laid to rest in the burying-ground on Cape + Sunrise. Services were conducted on the Doraine by the Reverend Mr. + Mackenzie, assisted by Father Francisco. All work was suspended on the + morning of the funeral. Shortly before noon the entire company walked, in + a long, straggling procession, from the landing to the spot three miles + distant where the lonely grave awaited its occupant. Careni-Amori sang + “Lead, Kindly Light” and “Nearer, my God, to Thee,” at the graveside. + There were tears in a thousand eyes, and every voice was husky. To most of + these people, Betty Cruise meant nothing, but she was to lie out there + alone on the wind-swept point, and they were deeply moved. They all went + back to work after the midday meal, a strangely silent, thoughtful + company,—even down to the lowliest “Portugee.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mott, the gaunt old cynic, surprised every one, including himself, by + adopting the infant! He announced his decision on the day after the + funeral. + </p> + <p> + “That baby's got to have a father and a grandfather and a mother, and all + that,” he declared to Captain Trigger, “and I'm going to be all of them, + Weatherby. It ain't legal, I know, and I reckon I'll have to turn her over + to her proper relatives if they make any demand,—provided we ever + get off this island,—but while she's here she's mine, and that + settles it, and as long afterward as God's willing. Chances are that no + one at home will want to be bothered with an infant that don't actually + belong to 'em, so I shouldn't wonder but what I'll have her always. What + are you laughing at?” + </p> + <p> + “I was just thinking that you didn't mention anything about being a + grandmother to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that meant to be sarcastic?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said the Captain hastily, noting the look in Mr. Mott's + eyes. “But for fear you may think it was, I take it all back, Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “I laid awake all last night worrying about how lonely and useless and + unoccupied I'm going to be if we stick here on this island for any + considerable length of time, not to say, always, and I made up my mind + that if I had that kid to bring up, life would be sort of worth while. + I'll probably live a good deal longer if I have something to live and work + for. Ain't that so?” + </p> + <p> + “It certainly is,” agreed the Captain. “Do you mind my asking how you're + going to feed it?” + </p> + <p> + “I've got that all attended to,” said Mr. Mott calmly. “I've been to see + three of these women who've got tiny babies, and they've promised between + 'em to nurse this one. It's all fixed, Captain. Of course, I don't know + how it's going to work out, seeing as one of 'em is Spanish, one of 'em + Portugee and the other a full-blooded Indian,—but they're all + healthy.” + </p> + <p> + “It's very noble of you, Andrew,” said the Captain, laying his hand on the + First Officer's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely not,” snapped Mr. Mott. “It's nothing but plain, rotten + selfishness on my part,—and I don't give a damn who knows it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + Inside of a fortnight after the events just chronicled, the women came + ashore to occupy the practically completed huts. + </p> + <p> + The Doraine was deserted except for Captain Trigger and the half-dozen + sailors who remained with him. These sailors were ancient tars whose lives + had been spent at sea. They were grizzled, wizened old chaps. One of them, + Joe Sands, had been an able seaman for forty-six years, and, despite a + perpetual crick in the back, he insisted that he was still an abler seaman + than ninety-five per cent, of the thirty-year-olds who followed the sea + for a living. When Captain Trigger announced his resolve to stay on board, + where he belonged, these vainglorious old seadogs elected to remain with + him to the end. + </p> + <p> + The exodus of women was hastened somewhat by the further listing of the + Doraine. This was due primarily to the removal of thousands of tons from + the holds, the galley and the engine room. A more sinister cause for + alarm, however, was the action of the greatly lightened vessel when a + tidal wave swept into the basin from the north. This came at the tag end + of the storm,—on the third day, in fact. The Doraine seemed actually + to be afloat for a few seconds, heaving, shuddering, groaning. Her bottom, + after scraping and grinding and giving up the most unearthly sounds, + suddenly appeared to have freed itself completely from the rocks on which + it was jammed. She seemed on the point of righting herself. Then she + started to roll over on her side! Almost as abruptly she stopped, + shivered, and then lay still again. But she was not in her old position. + She was lying over at least two degrees farther than before the upheaval. + </p> + <p> + This same, tremendous tidal wave, driven up by the strong wind that had + blown steadily and viciously out of the north for three days,—or + perhaps created by some vast internal convulsion of the earth,—completely + inundated the low-lying point of land known as Cape Sunrise, At least two + miles of the island was temporarily under water. The high ridge lining the + shore alone prevented the sea from hurtling over into the valley to + destroy the fields and gardens and even to imperil the row of huts along + the opposite slope. + </p> + <p> + Out on Cape Sunrise the waters swept over the lonely grave of Betty + Cruise, but fell back baffled when they attacked the foothills that + protected the homes of the living. There were superstitious persons who + read meaning into this startling visitation of the sea. They made ugly + romance of it. For, said they, the lonely spirit of Jimmy Cruise was + trying to reach its mate,—aye, striving to drag her body down to the + bottom of the sea to lie beside his own. + </p> + <p> + As the days went by,—long days that were not governed by any + daylight saving law,—the settlement took on the air and life of a + sequestered village. There was the general warehouse from which stores + were dispensed sparingly by agents selected for such duties. Women and men + went to market and carried home the provender. A fish market was + established; wood-yards, fruit and vegetable booths, a dispensary, and a + general store where leather, cloths of various description, and furs were + to be had by requisition. + </p> + <p> + In speaking of the dispensary, Dr. Cullen complacently announced that the + supply of medicine was limited, but that it was nothing to worry about. He + declared bluntly,—and with a twinkle in his eye,—that people + took too much medicine anyhow. + </p> + <p> + “Medicine is a luxury,” he said. “The more we stuff into people the more + they want, and the less they take the sooner they forget they're sick. As + your doctor, from this time on, I shall be delighted to set your broken + bones, sew up your gashes, and all that sort of thing, but it is precious + little medicine I'll give to you. So don't get sick. The only epidemic we + can have here, according to my judgment, is an epidemic of good health. Am + I right, gentlemen?” + </p> + <p> + The two young American doctors put aside their dignity and grinned. + </p> + <p> + The wines and liquors from the Doraine were brought ashore and locked away + in the cellar beneath the warehouse. It could be had only on the doctor's + orders. + </p> + <p> + “It won't hurt any of us to drink nothing but water for awhile,” said + Percival in discussing the matter; “and the chances are we'll be less + likely to hurt each other if we let the grog alone. There'll be no + drinking on this island if I can help it. I understand some of you men are + planning to put the pulp of the algarobo through a process of fermentation + and make chica by the barrel. Well, if I have anything to say about it, + you'll do nothing of the sort. I know that stuff. It's got more murder in + it than anything I've ever tackled. We can make flour out of that pulp, as + some of you know, and that's all we are going to make out of it. Besides, + we can be decent longer on flour than we can on chica. + </p> + <p> + “We'll find it harder to do without tobacco than without booze, and unless + we discover something to take its place we'll be smokeless in a few weeks. + Professor Knapendyke is experimenting with a shrub he has discovered here. + He says it may be a fairly good substitute if properly cured. But it won't + be tobacco, so I guess we may as well make up our minds to swear off + smoking as well as drinking. I hope there's nothing in the saying that the + good die young. Because if there is, we're in for an epidemic that will + wipe out four-fifths of our population in no time at all. We're going to + be so good we'll die like flies.” + </p> + <p> + The weeks wore on and the fields of grain were harvested. The yield was + not a heavy one, but it was sufficient to justify the rather hap-hazard + experiments. The fifty-odd acres of wheat produced a little over a + thousand bushels. The twenty-acre oat-field had averaged forty bushels. A + few acres of barley, sown broadcast in the calcareous loam along the + coast, amounted to nothing. + </p> + <p> + Primitive means for grinding the grain had been devised. This first crop + was being laboriously crushed between roughly made mill-stones, but before + another harvest came along, a mill would be in operation on the banks of + Leap Frog River. + </p> + <p> + The exploration of the island had long since been completed. In certain + parts of the dense forest covering the western section there were + magnificent specimens of the Norfolk Island pine. Fruits of the citrous + family were found in abundance; wild cherries, wild grapes, figs, and an + apple of amazing proportions and exceeding sweetness. Pigeons in great + numbers were found, a fact that puzzled Professor Knapendyke not a little. + </p> + <p> + He finally arrived at an astonishing conclusion. He connected the presence + of these birds with the remark-able exodus of wild pigeons from their + haunts in the United States in the eighties. Millions of pigeons at that + time took their annual flight southward from Michigan, Indiana and other + states in that region, and were never seen again. What became of this + prodigious cloud of birds still remains a mystery. Knapendyke now advanced + the theory that in skirting the Gulf of Mexico on their way to the winter + roosts in Central America they were caught by a hurricane and blown out to + sea. By various stages the bewildered survivors of the gale made their way + down the east coast of South America, only to be caught up again by + another storm that carried them out into the Atlantic. A few reached this + island, hundreds of miles from the mainland, and here they remained to + propagate. At any rate, the naturalist was preparing to put his + impressions and deductions into the form of a paper which he intended to + submit to the National Geographic Magazine as soon as he returned to the + United States. + </p> + <p> + The more practical Mr. Fitts decided to start a squab farm. + </p> + <p> + A few of the giant iguanas were seen, and many smaller ones. The meat of + the iguana is a great delicacy. There were no beasts of prey, no + herbaceous animals. + </p> + <p> + Lookouts on Top o' the Morning Peak reported the presence of monstrous + birds at rare intervals. Where they came from and whither they went no one + could tell. There were unscalable cliffs and crags at the western end of + the island, and it is possible that they had their nests among them. + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Platt described the first of these huge birds as being at least + thirty feet from tip to tip. It flew low above the top of Split Mountain + and disappeared beyond the hills to the west. When first descried by one + of the lookouts, this bird was far out over the ocean, approaching the + island from the east. As it soared over the heads of the men, several + hundred feet above them, its wings full spread, it was more like a small + monoplane than a bird. In colour it was a dirty yellow, with a black belly + and head. Before any one could procure a gun from the hut it was out of + range, flying at an incredible speed. A few days later another was seen, + coming from the same direction. It was flying much higher, and a few + futile shots were fired at it. Then, after a week or ten days without a + single one of the monsters being seen, five of them appeared in the west + and flew eastward over the island and out to sea. + </p> + <p> + “What was the name of that passenger-carrying bird they were always + talking about in the 'Arabian Nights'?” inquired Platt. + </p> + <p> + “You mean the roc,” replied Knapendyke. “If it ever really existed outside + of the fairy tales, it is now extinct. The nearest thing to it in size is + the condor, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “I've seen some whopping big condors up in the Andes,” said Percival, “but + twelve feet from tip to tip was what the natives called a full-grown + specimen. What do you make of these birds, Flattner?” + </p> + <p> + “After seeing an iguana eighteen feet long, I'm ready to believe anything. + A protracted and an enforced spell of sobriety is the only thing that + keeps me from diagnosing my own case as delirium tremens. There's one + thing sure. Birds as big as these, and iguanas as huge as the three we've + seen,—to say nothing of the enormous flying fish Morris Shine claims + to have seen,—take me back to the Dark Ages. I daresay we're seeing + the tag end of the giants. God knows how old these birds and reptiles are,—hundreds + of years, at least. I'd give almost anything to get one of those birds and + stuff him. There was once a flying animal known as the pteranodon. It has + been extinct for millions of years. Belonged to the class called + pterodactyls. Who knows? If you fellows could shoot for sour apples, I'd + have one of 'em.” + </p> + <p> + Christmas and New Year's day, long since past, had been celebrated in a + mild, half-hearted way on board the Doraine. Easter was drawing near, and + Ruth Clinton took upon herself the task of arranging special services for + the children. She was going ahead with her plans when her aunt, with some + bitterness, advised her to consult the “King of Babylon”—(a title + surreptitiously accorded Percival by the unforgiving lady)—before + committing herself too deeply to the enterprise. + </p> + <p> + “It would be just like him to cut Easter out of the calendar altogether,” + said she. + </p> + <p> + “He cannot possibly have any objection to an Easter service,” protested + Ruth, her brow puckering. + </p> + <p> + “There's no telling what he will object to,” said Mrs. Spofford. + </p> + <p> + “He is really quite tenderhearted, and awfully fond of children, you know. + I am sure he will be very much pleased with the—Besides,” she broke + off to say with considerable heat, “Mr. Percival is not as high and mighty + as he imagines himself to be. Other people have something to say about the + management of this camp. You forget,—and so does he perhaps,—that + we have a council of ten. I rather fancy—” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” sniffed her aunt. “He is worse than all the Tammany bosses put + together. The other men on the council of ten eat out of his hand, as Abel + Landover says. His word is law,—or, I should have said, his smile is + law. All he has to do is to grin and the argument is over. I've never seen + anything like the way people give in when he smiles. It is disgusting.” + </p> + <p> + “Please don't forget, Auntie, that he did not smile on Saturday when + Manuel Crust stopped him in front of the meeting-house and said he was + going to take Sunday off from work up in the woods. He didn't smile then, + did he? And there were a dozen men planning to take the day off with + Manuel Crust, too.” + </p> + <p> + “I confess I was frightened,” admitted Mrs. Spofford, with a slight + shudder. “That Manuel Crust is a—a dangerous man. He carries a + knife. I saw it.” + </p> + <p> + “Were your sympathies with Manuel Crust or Mr. Percival? Answer, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally, my dear, I—why, of course, they were with Percival. He + was one man against a dozen. Besides, he does represent law and order. I + have never questioned that, have I?” + </p> + <p> + “Weren't you a weeny, teeny bit proud of him yesterday, Aunt Julia?” + </p> + <p> + “Weren't you?” countered the other. + </p> + <p> + “I could have hugged him,” exclaimed Ruth, her eyes sparkling. “I hate + him,—mind you,—but I could have hugged him, just the same.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Spofford looked searchingly into the girls clear, shining eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I knew just how much you hate him, Ruth.” + </p> + <p> + “Be honest, Auntie. What you mean is, how little I hate him; isn't that + so?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe you hate him at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the first chance you get, ask him how much I hate him. He will tell + you. Now let's talk about Easter Sunday. I don't in the least see why I + should go down on my knees to Mr. Percival in order to—” + </p> + <p> + “Manuel Crust went down on his knees, didn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be silly! Manuel Crust was leading a strike. I am arranging a + sacred entertainment.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, if I were you, my dear, I would ask him what he thinks about it.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” cried Ruth, “I'll ask him. And what's more, I shall ask him + to sing in the choir. He will love it.” + </p> + <p> + Not only did Percival promise to sing in the choir, but he eagerly offered + to help her with the decorations. But when she announced that she was + going up into the hills in quest of the little red winter berries that + grew in profusion, he flatly put his foot down on the project. + </p> + <p> + “I don't feel any too sure of Manuel Crust and his gang,” said he. + “They're in an ugly mood and they are brutes, Miss Clinton. Don't be + alarmed. They're not likely to molest you or any one else, but I don't + believe in taking chances. Just at present they're pretty sore at me and + they're doing all they can to stir up discord. It will work out all right + in the end, of course. They may be beasts but they're not fools.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it true that Manuel Crust claims that every man should have his + woman?” she asked steadily. + </p> + <p> + He was surprised by the frank, unembarrassed question. “Crust is about as + vile as they make them, Miss Clinton. Most of these fellows are decent, + however.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have not answered my question.” + </p> + <p> + “I will answer it by saying that if he has any such notion as that in his + mind he will have it taken out of him in short order if he attempts to put + it into practice. The women on this island will be protected, Miss + Clinton, if we have to kill Manuel Crust and his fol-lowers. It is true he + has been preaching that sort of gospel among the vicious and ignorant + Portugees and half-casts, but it's all talk. Don't pay any attention to + it.” + </p> + <p> + “We can't help being worried. Suppose his following is much larger than + you think. They are a rough, lawless crowd, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Ninety-five per cent, of the men here are decent. That's the only comfort + I can give you.” He smiled his whimsical smile. “I think you will find + that you will be courted in the regular, old-fashioned way, and proposed + to with as much solemnity and uncertainty as if you were back at home, and + it will be left for you to choose your own husband. We have two ministers + of the gospel here, you know. I predict some rather violent courtships, + and perhaps a few ill-advised marriages, but you may rest assured that no + man is going to claim you until you claim him.” + </p> + <p> + He was looking straight into her eyes. She felt the blood mounting to her + cheek,—and was conscious of a strange, delicious sensation as of + peril stealing over her. + </p> + <p> + “You are most reassuring,” she managed to say, scarcely above a whisper, + and then paused expectant. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards she was shamed by the exquisite pain of anticipation that had + coursed through her in that moment of waiting. She never could quite + account for the temporary weakness that assailed her and left her mute and + helpless under the spell of his eyes. She only knew that she waited + expectant,—for something that never came! What she might have said + in response, what she might have done if he had uttered the words she was + prepared to hear, she did not care to contemplate, even in the privacy of + her own thoughts. She only knew that she was ashamed of the thrill that + went over her and strangely bitter toward him for being the cause of it. + She would not admit to herself that disappointment had anything to do with + it,—for she found herself arguing, nothing could have been more + distressing than to rebuff him when he seemed so eager to help her in her + plans for Easter Sunday. + </p> + <p> + The fact remains, however, that Percival held his tongue, and she never + quite understood why he did. + </p> + <p> + The time and the place of this encounter invited confession. There was a + full moon in the heavens, the night was still, the air crisp with the tang + of October in the north,—and they were alone in the shadow of the + “tabernacle.” Lights gleamed in the little windows that stretched to the + right and left of them. Far off somewhere in the dark, an unseen musician + was gently thrumming a fandango on his Spanish guitar. She had been on her + way home from Careni-Amori's cabin, where she had gained the prima-donna's + promise to sing, when she saw him, walking slowly across the “Green.” His + hands were clasped behind his back, his head was bent. She experienced a + sudden rush of pity for him,—she knew not why, except that he looked + lonely and forgotten. It was she who turned aside from her course and went + out across the Green to join him. + </p> + <p> + “You are most reassuring,” she had said. The dusky light of the moon fell + full upon her upturned face; her shadowy, limpid eyes were looking + straight into his; enchantment charged the air with its soft and + languorous breath,—and yet he looked away! + </p> + <p> + After a moment he spoke. His voice was steady and,—to her,—almost + sardonic. + </p> + <p> + “The day of the cave-man is past. Likewise the cannibal. I think I can + promise that you will neither be beaten nor eaten,—but you do run a + little risk in being abroad on such a night as this,—and alone.” + </p> + <p> + She stiffened. “I don't think there is the slightest danger, Mr. + Percival.” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't thinking of danger,” he said. “There is a lot of difference + between danger and consequences. You see, you might have been mistaken in + your man. I might have turned out to be Manuel Crust.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I—I was sure it was you,” she stammered, and wished she had + not said it. It was a confession that she knew his figure so well that she + could recognize it in the gloom of the night and at a distance that should + have rendered him almost invisible. + </p> + <p> + “Even so, I am Manuel's brother under the skin,” he said. “Like Judy + O'Grady and the Colonel's lady, you know. However, all's well that ends + well, so what's the use of magnifying the peril that stalks through the + land.” + </p> + <p> + “You were brought up on the good, old-fashioned novels, I see. That's the + language of heroes,—and heroes live only in novels, where they are + perfectly safe from harm, thanks to the benevolent author.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right. I was brought up among the old-fashioned heroes. I lived + through every adventure they had, I longed for every girl they loved, I + envied everything they did, and I dreamed the most beautiful dreams about + prowess and virtue and love. I rather fancy I'm a better man for having + been a swashbuckling boy. I acquired the generous habit of falling in love + with every heroine I read about, and in my thoughts I performed even more + prodigious deeds of valour in her behalf than the hero to whom she + inevitably plighted her troth in the final chapter. In real life, however, + I've never been in a position to do anything more heroic than give up my + seat in trolley-cars to ladies of all ages,—By the way, have you + never longed desperately to be a heroine?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I have,” she cried, smiling in spite of herself. Her eyes were + sparkling again, for the danger was past. “And I have loved a hundred + heroes,—madly.” She hesitated and then went on impulsively: “We + haven't been very friendly, Mr. Percival. Perhaps I am to blame. In any + case, you have been very generous and forbearing. That is more than I have + been. I never thought I could bring myself to the point of saying this to + you. Can't we be friends again?” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to go back to where we were before—Well, before we + clashed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—if you will put it in that way.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't go back to that stage,” he said, shaking his head. “You may have + stood still, Miss Clinton, but I have progressed.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “You will, after you reflect awhile,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She drew back, in a sudden panic. She spoke hurriedly, her composure + wrecked. + </p> + <p> + “I—at least, Mr. Percival, I have done my part. If you do not care + to be friends, I—I have nothing more to say. We must go on just as + we were,—and I am sorry. I have done my part.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not want to distress you,” he said huskily. “If I were to tell you + why it is best for us to go on as we are, you would lose what little faith + you may still have in me. I have not always been able to conceal my + feelings. You do not care as I do,—and I have been pretty much of a + rotter in showing you just how I feel from time to time,—an ordinary + bounder, and God knows I hate the word,—so there's nothing more I + can say without distressing and offending you. I want you to feel + perfectly secure so far as I am concerned. We are out here alone in the + night. If I were to let go of myself now and say what I want to say to + you,—well, you would be frightened and hurt and,—God knows I + wouldn't hurt you for the world. I hope you understand, Miss Clinton.” + </p> + <p> + She had had time to fortify herself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—I understand,” she said, but not without a strange wonder + filling her mind. + </p> + <p> + He was fair,—and yet he was baffling. She had not expected this rare + trait in him. Men she had known were not like this. The men who loved her,—and + they had been many,—were impetuous and insistent, demanding much and + offering everything,—vain-glorious warriors who counted confidently + on easy conquest. She had come in contact with but one class of men: the + spoiled, cocksure sons of the rich who love in haste and have it over with + while there is yet time to love again. She caught herself guiltily + wondering how many men of her acquaintance would have allowed this + engaging opportunity to pass without making the most of it! And why should + this man be different from the others? She experienced a sharp feeling of + irritation, and out of that sprang the wilful desire to hurt him because + he was different. So she lifted her chin, and looking straight into his + eyes, said: “I understand perfectly. You prefer that I should not put you + in the class with Manuel Crust.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not quite certain that Manuel's way of handling women isn't the best + after all,” he said musingly. “Ride over 'em rough-shod, trample them + under foot, kick them to one side and then ask them whether they love you + or not. If they say they don't, all you have to do is to behave like a + gentleman and leave them alone.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. “But suppose they were to say they did love you,—what + then?” + </p> + <p> + “That, I understand, is what they generally do say,—and it causes a + great deal of trouble for the unfortunate gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you never in earnest, Mr. Percival?” + </p> + <p> + “I was very much in earnest a moment ago. You knew how much in earnest I + was or you wouldn't have said that nasty thing about Manuel Crust.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry I said it,” she cried. “It was uncalled for,—and I was + deliberately trying to be mean.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew it,” he said quietly. “I don't think any the worse of you for it. + A woman plays fair until you get her into a corner,—and then she + plays fairer than ever to make up for what she did when cornered. Am I not + right?” + </p> + <p> + She did not reply. She was staring past him, down the line of huts. The + door of Olga Obosky's cabin had opened and closed, projecting for an + instant an oblong block of light into the darkness. The figure of a woman, + emerging into the full light of the moon, had caught Ruth's attention. + Percival turned quickly. Together they watched the figure move swiftly + across the Green toward them. Suddenly it stopped, and then, after a + moment, whirled and made off down the line of cabins, soon to be swallowed + up by the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “Were you expecting some one?” inquired Ruth, icily. + </p> + <p> + He was still looking intently into the far-reaching gloom. Neither had + spoken for many seconds. He started, and looked searchingly into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “That was Madame Obosky,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I know. I recognized her,” said she evenly. + </p> + <p> + “And you believe she was coming out here to meet me,—isn't that so?” + </p> + <p> + She drew herself up. “I shall have to say good night, Mr. Percival. No! It + is not necessary for you to walk home with me.” + </p> + <p> + He placed himself in front of her. “Would you mind answering my question?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she flashed, “I think she was coming out here to meet you. Permit + me to pass, please.” + </p> + <p> + He stood aside. “Good night, Miss Clinton.” + </p> + <p> + He watched her until the door of her cabin swung open,—and he smiled + as she stood revealed for an instant in the square of light, for she had + obeyed the impulse to glance over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + She was angry, hurt, disgusted as she slammed the door behind her. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been?” cried out an accusing voice, and Ruth's gaze fell + upon the figure in one of the deck chairs beside the fire. “I have been + waiting for you for—” + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been here?” cried the girl, stock-still and staring. + </p> + <p> + “If Mrs. Spofford had not been so entertaining, I should say for hours and + hours,” said Madame Obosky. + </p> + <p> + “As a matter of fact,” said Mrs. Spofford from her side of the fireplace, + “it hasn't been more than an hour. Madame Obosky came soon after you went + out, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but I saw you just now coming out of your cabin,” cried Ruth + blankly. She had a queer sensation as of the floor giving way beneath her. + </p> + <p> + “You saw—Oh, now I understand!” cried the Russian, with a laugh. + “Zose girls of mine! Zey—they are like so many grandmothers. They + will not go to bed until zey know I am safely tucked in myself. Alas, Mrs. + Spofford, zose girls do not trust me, I fear. If I go out at night alone, + zey instantly put their heads together and shake zem all at the same time. + So that is what has happen, Miss Clinton. One of them,—Alma, I + suspect, because she had a sister who,—Yes, it would be Alma, I am + sure,—in any case, one of zem comes out to get me, so like a + policeman. But still I do not understand something. I have told them I was + coming here to see you. If it was one of my girls, why has she not come?” + </p> + <p> + Ruth had turned away, ostensibly to pull down the little window shade but + really to send a swift searching glance out across the Green. + </p> + <p> + “She went the other way,” she replied, rather breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + Olga sprang to her feet. “Now, what is zat little fool up to?” she cried, + angrily. “If I catch her running out to meet men at zis hour of—” + </p> + <p> + Ruth interrupted her. “She started in this direction but when she saw us, + she turned and went the other way. I was talking to Mr. Percival out near + the meeting-house. About the Easter services, Auntie,” she made haste to + say as Mrs. Spofford looked up in surprise. + </p> + <p> + Olga was looking at her fixedly, an odd expression in her eyes, her lips + slightly parted. + </p> + <p> + “He has promised to help me. He is delighted to sing in the choir. Madame + Careni-Amori will sing two solos. She promises to make Joseppi sing one or + two. I—I was discussing the arrangements with Mr. Percival.” + </p> + <p> + “Now I understand,” said Olga, gaily, but with the odd, inquiring look + still in her eyes. “Alma thought it was I. I have zem very well-trained, + those girls. She sees me with a man,—zip! She runs the other way as + fast as she can! That is the height of propriety,—is it not, Mrs. + Spofford?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not quite understand what you mean, Madame Obosky.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did he say it was you?” cried Ruth, hot with chagrin. + </p> + <p> + Olga shrugged her shoulders. “He is so very amiable,” said she. “I dare + say he thought it would please you.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth bit her lip. There was no mistaking the challenge in the Russian's + remark, however careless it may have sounded. + </p> + <p> + “I came to see you about Mr. Percivail's birthday,” said Olga, abruptly + changing the subject. “Some one has suggested zat we all join in giving + him a grand great big celebration. Bonfires, fire-works, a banquet with + speeches, and all zat kind of thing. What do you think, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “He wouldn't like it at all,” said Ruth promptly. “Moreover, why should we + celebrate his birthday? He doesn't deserve it any more than scores of + other—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then we must drop it altogether,” broke in Olga, rather plaintively. + “I thought every one would be in favour of it. But, of course, if there is + the slightest opposition—” + </p> + <p> + “I do not oppose it,” said Ruth coldly. “Pray do not let me upset your + plans.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not my plan. Zat nice, sarcastic Mr. Fitts, and Mr. Malone, and + Captain Trigger, they have proposed it, Miss Clinton, not I. But men never + quite get over being boys. They do not stop to question whether a thing is + right or wrong. I dare say after they have thought a little longer over + it, zey will agree with you that it is foolish to be so enthusiastic about + this fellow Percivail,—and the whole project will dissolve into thin + air.” + </p> + <p> + Her hand was on the latch. She met Ruth's harassed, unhappy gaze with her + indolent, almost insolent, smile. Suddenly the American girl snatched up + her jacket and the little fur collar she had thrown across a chair in the + corner. + </p> + <p> + “If you don't mind, I will walk part of the way home with you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Olga opened the door and looked out. “Thank you,—I am not afraid. + Pray do not think of it,—I cannot permit you to come. It is late,—and + the moon is under the clouds. Good night,—good night, Mrs. + Spofford.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <p> + She quickly closed the door behind her and sped off down the line of now + lightless cabins. A man stepped out of the black shadow beyond the second + cabin and stood in her path. She did not pause, but walked swiftly, + fearlessly up to him, her heart quickening under the thrill of exultation. + He was waiting for her! He had been waiting for her all the long evening. + The time had come! + </p> + <p> + The night was dark now; a strong wind had sprung up to drive the black and + storm-laden clouds across the moonlit sky. She held out her hands with a + little moan of ecstasy,—and then she was in his strong, crushing + arms, pressed fiercely to his breast. + </p> + <p> + “God, can I believe,—is it true? You have come,—you have come + of your own free will,—you are here in my arms!” His hot lips found + hers in a wild, passionate kiss. “Speak to me! Tell me it is all real,—that + I am not dreaming. Oh, Ruth, Ruth,—darling!” + </p> + <p> + Her body stiffened. A convulsive shudder raced over her, and then, for an + instant, she was limp and heavy in his embrace. Then suddenly she threw + her arms about his neck and kissed him furiously, savagely, again and + again,—breaking away at last with a low, suffocating laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Now,—now,-” she cried, “now, what are you going to do with me?” + </p> + <p> + He lifted his head with a jerk, peering into her face, slow to realize the + incredible mistake he had made. He was still under the spell of the + riotous passion that her lustful response had aroused. It had rushed over + him like a great, resistless wave,—hot, delicious, tingling. He had + been amazed, bewildered by the unbelievable craving,—furious and + uncontrolled,—which she revealed in her momentary surrender to the + elemental. The truth began to dawn upon him even before she spoke. Could + this be Ruth,—could this unbridled, voluptuous wanton who clung to + him and smothered him with kisses be the pure, high-minded girl he had + grown to love and revere? She spoke, and then he knew that the consuming + fire in his blood was unholy,—as unholy as the spark that set it + ablaze. + </p> + <p> + “Damn you!” he whispered hoarsely,—but he did not put her away from + him. The lure of the flesh was upon him. It was stronger than his will, + stronger than his love. + </p> + <p> + For months this woman had beguiled him. There had been times when he was + compelled to fight himself,—times when he asked: “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + She was alluring, she was frankly a sensualist; but she was patient, she + was crafty. She knew that he was honourably in love with another, but she + was not deterred by that nor by the conviction that her conquest, if she + prevailed, would be transitory. She had a code of her own. It included an + uncertain element of honour, fixed rather rigidly upon what she would have + called constancy. Singleness of purpose was her notion of morality. She + would not have believed herself to be a bad woman any more than she would + have looked upon her lover as a bad man. To her, morality in its accepted + sense signified no more than the suppression of human emotions and human + sensations. As a matter of fact, she considered herself a good woman if + for no other reason than that she steadfastly had repelled the munificent + appeals of countless infatuated men. Treasure had been laid at her feet, + only to be kicked aside. She calmly spoke of herself as a pearl without + price. She was content to possess, but not to be possessed. That was what + she called self-respect. She was a pagan, but she was her own idol. She + worshipped herself. She would never permit her idol to be desecrated. + </p> + <p> + All this Percival knew,—or rather sensed. He was not above feeling a + queer sort of respect and admiration for her. She was not without + integrity. + </p> + <p> + He had reached the pinnacle of happiness in believing that the girl he + loved was in his arms. He was blind and deaf with ecstasy. The awakening + was a shock. His senses reeled for an instant,—and then Ruth Clinton + went out of his thoughts entirely! + </p> + <p> + “Damn you!” he cried again, and drew her close. “She hates me,—she + will always hate me,” he was mumbling. “Why should I care? Why should I + refuse to take—” Her lips were on his again, warm, firm, voluptuous, + drawing his heart's blood with the resistless power of a magnet. + </p> + <p> + They did not hear the rapid approach of footsteps—heavy, swift as of + one running. A dark, panting figure raced past them, and then another but + a few paces behind. + </p> + <p> + Percival's senses were released. They cast off the bewitching bonds. His + head went up again. In a flash his brain was clear. His arms were still + about her, she was still lying close against him,—but the current of + passion that consumed both of them was checked. + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” she gasped, as if coming out of a dream. + </p> + <p> + He released her, and sprang out into the path to peer fruitlessly after + the unseen runners. The sound of footsteps was rapidly diminishing. + </p> + <p> + They were suddenly aware of women's voices far away to the right. They + were indistinct but there was a sinister significance in the + ever-increasing volume. + </p> + <p> + “There's trouble out there,” said Percival. “Something wrong. Come,—come + along! You must get indoors at once.” He grasped her arm and started + rapidly off in the direction of her cabin. She stumbled at first, but + quickly fell into stride with him. Men's shouts were now added to the + clamour. + </p> + <p> + “I know,—I know,” she cried in his ear. “It has happened, just as I + said it would. Some of these men are beasts.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, there's hell to pay,” he grated. + </p> + <p> + They reached her cabin just as the door was thrown open. The three + startled coryphees filled the entrance. Recognition was followed by a + clatter of agitated voices. Olga was fairly dragged into the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “Bolt your door,” was Percival's command as he turned away. + </p> + <p> + She stood in the door for a moment, looking after him. He passed out of + the radius of light. The chorus of voices grew louder down the way,—like + the make-believe mob in the theatre. + </p> + <p> + Then she closed the door slowly, reluctantly. The three girls watched her + in silence as she stood for many seconds with her hand on the knob, her + eyes tightly shut. + </p> + <p> + She turned and faced them. There was a wry smile on her lips as she + shrugged her shoulders and spread out her hands in a gesture of + resignation. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—bolt the door,” she said. As Alma hesitated, her eyes grew + hard, her voice imperative. “Do you know of any reason why you should not + do as both Mr. Percivail and I have commanded?” + </p> + <p> + “No,—no, Madame,” cried Alma hastily. + </p> + <p> + As the heavy wooden bolt fell into place, Olga again shrugged her + shoulders and threw herself into a chair in front of the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + “Put on your clothes,” she ordered. + </p> + <p> + “What is happening, Madame? What is all the noise about?” questioned one + of the girls. + </p> + <p> + But there was no answer. Olga was staring into the fire. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <p> + Percival's blood was still in a tumult as he ran down the line of cabins. + From every doorway men were now stumbling, half-dressed, half-asleep. + Behind them, in many cabins, alarmed, agitated women appeared. Farther on + there were lanterns and a chaotic mass of moving objects. Above the + increasing clamour rose the horrible, uncanny wail of a woman. Percival's + blood cooled, his brain cleared. Men shouted questions as he passed, and + obeyed his command to follow. + </p> + <p> + The ugly story is soon told. Philippa, the fifteen-year-old daughter of + Pedro, the head-farmer, had gone out from her father's cabin at dusk to + fetch water from the little reservoir that had been constructed alongside + Leap Frog River a short distance above the cabins. The pool was a scant + two hundred yards from her home. It was a five minutes' walk there and + back. Half-an-hour passed, and she had not returned. Her mother became + uneasy. Pedro reassured her. He laughed at her fears. + </p> + <p> + “She could not have fallen into the pool,” he said. “You forget the fence + we have built around it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not thinking of the pool, Pedro,” she argued. “Go you at once and + search for her. She is no laggard. She has not stopped in to see one of + the girls.” + </p> + <p> + And Pedro went grumpily forth to search for his daughter. An hour later he + came staggering down from the woods above the pool to meet the dozen or + more friends and neighbours who had set out some-time earlier to look for + the two of them, father and daughter. + </p> + <p> + He bore in his arms the limp, apparently lifeless form of Philippa. He was + covered with blood, he was chattering like a madman. Out of his incoherent + babble the horrified searchers were able to put together the cruel story. + It seems he had heard a faint cry far back in the dense wood,—another + and yet another. Then utter silence. Even the night-birds were still. + Swift, paralysing fear choked him. He tried to call out as he rushed + blindly up from the pool into the forest, but only hoarse, unnatural gasps + left his lips. He fell often, he crashed into the trunks of trees, but + always he went onward, gasping out his futile cries. He knew not how long + he beat through the forest. He was not even sure that it was Philippa's + cry he had heard, but his soul was filled with a great, convincing dread. + He knew that his beloved Philippa, the idol of his heart, the sunshine of + his life, was up there in the woods. Frequently he stopped to listen. He + could hear nothing save the pounding of his own heart, and the wheezing of + his breath, thick and laboured. + </p> + <p> + Then, at last, during one of those silences, he heard something moving in + the darkness near at hand. Something—some one was coming toward him + through the underbrush. He called out hoarsely: “Philippa!” The sound + ceased instantly, and then he heard a whispered execration. Wild rage + possessed him. He plunged forward into the brush. Something crashed down + upon his head, and he felt himself falling forward. The next he knew, he + was trying vainly to rise to his feet. Something hot was running into his + eyes,—hot and sticky. He lifted his hand to his head; it came away + wet. He put his fingers into his mouth,-and tasted blood! It was enough. + His strength came back. He sprang to his feet and rushed onward, shouting, + cursing, calling upon God! He had no recollection of finding his girl. + Apparently everything was a blank to him until long afterwards he saw + lights moving among the trees, and voices were calling his name. + </p> + <p> + Percival and other cool-headed men were hard put to check the fury of the + mob. Men and women, bent on vengeance, made the night hideous with their + curses, howls and shrieks. In their senseless fury they prepared to kill. + They had heard the stories about Manuel Crust and his disciples. Only the + determined stand taken by the small group that rallied to Percival's + support kept the maddened crowd from seeking out these men and rending + them limb from limb. The sailors from the Doraine were the first to listen + to the pleas of the level-headed,—just as they had been the first to + demand the lives of Manuel Crust and his gang. Individually they were + rough men and lawless, collectively they were the slaves of discipline. It + was to their vanity that Percival and the others appealed,—only they + called it honour instead of vanity. The mob spirit was—quelled for + the time being, at least. No one was so foolish as to believe that it was + dead, however. Unless the man guilty of the shocking crime was found and + delivered up for punishment, the inevitable would happen. + </p> + <p> + “We'll get the right man,” said the voice of universal fury, “if we have + to cut the heart out of every one of Manuel Crust's gang.” + </p> + <p> + The women were the worst. They fought like wildcats to reach the cabins + occupied by the known followers of Manuel Crust. With knives and axes and + burn-ing faggots they tried again and again to force their way through the + stubborn wall of men that had been raised against them. + </p> + <p> + As for Manuel Crust and his little group of radicals, they had vanished. + They had mingled with the mob at the outset. There were many who recalled + seeing this one and that one, remembered speaking to him, remembered + hearing him curse the ravisher. But as their own names began to run from + lip to lip, they silently, swiftly disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Dawn found the camp awake, but grimly silent. No one had gone to bed. With + the first streak of day, the man-hunt began in earnest. All night long the + camp had been patrolled. Every cabin had been searched, even those + occupied solely by women. This search had been conducted in an orderly, + business-like way under the supervision of men chosen by Percival. The + folly of beating the woods during the night was recognized even by the + most impatient; there was time enough for that when the blackness of night + had lifted. + </p> + <p> + Throughout the long night, the restless crowd, with but one thought in + mind, hung about the cabin of Pedro the farmer. The doctors and several of + the nurses were in there. Down at the meeting-house a bonfire had been + started, and here were grouped the men to whom the leaders had intrusted + firearms and other weapons,—men of the gun crew, under officers from + the Doraine, the committee of ten and others. + </p> + <p> + It was accepted as a fact that two men were involved in the heinous deed. + Percival's account of the mysterious runners seemed definitely to + establish this. He called upon Olga Obosky to verify his statement. If she + was surprised by his admission that he was in her company when the men + rushed past them in the darkness, she did not betray the fact. She + indulged in a derisive smile when he went on to explain that it was so + dark he had failed to recognize her until she spoke to him. She agreed + with him that the two men must have come into the open a very short + distance above them, having sneaked out between the cabins before suddenly + breaking into a run. Avoiding the beaten roadway, they had laid their + course twenty or thirty feet to the right of it, keeping to the soft, + springy turf. + </p> + <p> + Percival had issued orders for the entire camp to congregate on the Green + at the first sign of day. The cold grey light of dawn fell upon vague, + unreal forms moving across the open spaces from all directions. There was + no shouting, no turmoil, scarcely the sound of a voice. The silent, + ghostly figures merged into a compact, motionless mass in front of the + meetinghouse. It was not necessary for Percival to call for order when he + appeared on the steps and began to speak. The only sounds were the + shuffling of feet, the rustling of garments, the deep, restrained + breathing of the mass. + </p> + <p> + He spoke partly in English and partly in Spanish, and he was brief. + </p> + <p> + “You know what we are here for and what is ahead of us. I don't have to + tell you the story of last night. You know it as well as I. You will be + glad to hear the latest word from Dr. Cullen. Philippa is conscious. He + thinks she will recover. She is having the best of care and attention. I + will explain why we are all here now. The first thing for us to do is to + count noses. We will go about it as rapidly as possible. After that, we + will get down to business. Mr. Landover and Mr. Malone will check off the + name of every man, woman and child. As your names are called, come + forward, answer, and then move over beyond the corner of the building. + We've got to find out just who is missing,—if any one is missing at + all.” + </p> + <p> + He raised his voice. “I want you all to keep cool. Don't forget that we + are after the men who committed this crime. We have no right to say that + Manuel Crust or any of his crowd did this thing until we have positive + proof of the fact. It may not have been any of Manuel's gang, don't forget + that, people. We must make no mistakes. I am saying this to you now + because I see Manuel Crust and some of his friends standing over there at + the edge of the clearing. Stop! Don't make a move in their direction. + We've all had time to think,—we've all had time to get ourselves in + hand. There is a right and a wrong way to handle this thing,—and + we've got to be sure we're right. The guilty cannot escape. They haven't a + chance, and you know it. So, let's be sure,—let's be dead sure + before we accuse any man. We have no right to charge Manuel's gang with + this crime. The guilty men may be here among us,—absolutely + unsuspected. Chizler! You and Soapy Shay go over and tell those men that + we are taking a count of all the people in this camp. Tell them to come + and answer to their names. They will be safe.” + </p> + <p> + The count was never completed. Manuel Crust did not wait for his name to + be called. He pushed his way through the crowd, leaving his followers + behind. Advancing to the foot of the steps he cried out hoarsely to + Percival: + </p> + <p> + “If you want your men, I—I, Manuel Crust, will lead you to one of + them. He is up there in the wood. Three men are guarding him. He is Sancho + Mendez, the blacksmith. Listen, I will tell you. It is the God's truth I + tell. There were seven of us hiding out there in the wood. We were scared. + We heard our names called out. We had heard the threats to burn us alive. + We ran away. We were not cowards,—but still we ran away. We would + wait till the crowd cooled off. That was my advice. Then we would return,—then + we would help to find the men who did it,—and we would help to burn + them alive. An hour ago Sancho Mendez crawled out of the brush up there + above the landing and begged us to protect him. His leg was broken. He had + fallen over a log. You all know Sancho Mendez. He was a good boy. He was + the friend of Boss Percival. He was no friend to me. But he swears he will + be my slave for ever if I will save him. Then he tells us everything. When + I ask him why the hell he run away, he says he lose his mind or something. + He just go crazy, he says. He say everybody was chasing him,—he + could hear them in the bushes, he could hear that girl screaming out his + name,—and all that. He was going to jump in the water and drown, + because he say people tell him always it is the easy way to die. But he + falls down and breaks his leg,—here below the knee. He cannot run no + more. It is all up. He is afraid to breathe. People are all around him + with knives and axes and clubs. He can hear them in the brush. Then the + daylight comes, and he sees us down below in the wood, and he says he + thanks God. I will be his friend,—I will save him because I am an + angel from heaven! Bah! I spit in his face. We tie him to a tree with our + belts, and then I come down to tell Boss Percival we have his man,—his + good and loyal friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” yelled Percival, as the crowd began to show symptoms of breaking + away. “Listen to me! I give you fair warning. I don't want to do it, but, + by God, I'll order these men to shoot the first who tries to start + anything. We're going to have law and order here. This man Sancho is going + to have a fair trial. What's more, he had a companion. What does he say of + the other man, Manuel Crust?” + </p> + <p> + “Sancho Mendez says he was alone. There was no other man.” + </p> + <p> + Percival looked hard into Manuel Crust's bloodshot eyes. An appalling + thought had suddenly flashed into his mind. Many seconds passed before he + dared to open his lips. As if by divine revelation the situation lay bare + before him,—the whole Machiavelian scheme as conceived by Manuel. + Sancho Mendez was to be sacrificed! + </p> + <p> + Even as he stood there speechless, the plan began to work toward its + well-calculated end. Manuel's friends started to harangue the crowd. They + were growling hoarse invectives, shaking their fists in the direction of + the wood, fanning the pent-up fury of the mob into a whirlwind that would + sweep everything before it. Once the tide turned there would be no + stopping it until Sancho Mendez was torn to pieces. He would shriek his + innocence into deaf ears. And that was Manuel's game. + </p> + <p> + Percival's heart leaped with joy as he saw the armed force under + Lieutenant Platt move swiftly into a position barring the way to the + woods. He thrilled with a mighty pride in the shrewd intelligence and + resourcefulness of this trained fighting-man from the far-off homeland. + </p> + <p> + Manuel Crust was turning away to mingle with the crowd. Quick as a flash, + Percival was down from the steps and at the “Portugee's” side. He grasped + the man's arm. + </p> + <p> + “I've got a gun against your back,” he cried in fierce suppressed tones. + “Stand still and keep your mouth shut, or I'll drill a hole through you. + You're safe if you do as I tell you, Crust. I'm onto your little game. I'm + not saying you are the guilty man, but you know who he is,—and it + won't work.” + </p> + <p> + Manuel Crust was as rigid as a block of stone. He did not even turn his + head to look into the face of the man who held him. + </p> + <p> + Michael Malone and Landover were at Percival's side in an instant. From + their position on the steps they could see what was not visible to the + crowd beyond,—the revolver that was pressed against the small of + Crust's back. + </p> + <p> + “Cover this man,” whispered Percival to Malone. “Shoot if he opens his + mouth.” + </p> + <p> + Malone's revolver was jammed against the “Portugee's” back, and Percival + sprang back up the steps. + </p> + <p> + Manuel Crust shot a look of surprise at Abel Landover. + </p> + <p> + “What the hell—” he began, but choked off the words at a command + from Malone. While Percival was rapidly calling out orders from above, he + broke out recklessly again, addressing the stern-faced banker. + </p> + <p> + “Are you my friend or not?” he snarled. “What kind of a man are you? Speak + up! Tell them I'm all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep quiet,” warned Malone. + </p> + <p> + Landover's eyes met the searching, questioning gaze of the Portuguese. + Manuel Crust apparently was satisfied with what he read in them, for a + quick gleam of confidence leaped into his own. His chest swelled with a + tremendous intake of breath. + </p> + <p> + The remarkable personality,—or perhaps the magnetism,—of the + “boss,” again asserted itself. He made no allusion to the thing uppermost + in his mind as he spoke hurriedly, emphatically to the tense throng. When + he directed Randolph Fitts to take a few picked men with him up into the + woods to bring down the captive, there were mutterings but no move on the + part of the crowd either to anticipate or to follow the detachment. A few + terse words to Buck Chizler sent that active young man after Fitts, the + bearer of instructions. Sancho Mendez was to be brought in alive. His + guards were not to be given a chance to kill him when they realized that + the scheme had failed and he would be allowed to tell his own story. + </p> + <p> + With the departure of Fitts and his men, Percival ordered the people to + return to their cabins. He promised them that Sancho Mendez should have + his just deserts. Slowly, reluctantly the crowd broke up and shuffled away + in small groups across the dewy Green. Manuel Crust was free to go. The + few words that passed between Landover and Percival, although unheard by + the man, sufficed to put courage back into his heart. He had come to look + upon the banker as his “pal”! And his “pal” had not failed him! + </p> + <p> + This is what Landover said to Percival: + </p> + <p> + “Whatever may be in your mind, Percival, I want to say this to you. I was + in Manuel Crust's cabin when the thing happened. There were eight of us + there. I can point out to you the other six. I must beg you to overlook + the fact that we are not friends, and believe what I am saying. It is the + absolute truth.” + </p> + <p> + “I will take your word for it, Mr. Landover,” said Percival, after a + moment. “I am aware of your dealings with Crust and his crowd. I don't + know what the game is, but I do know that you have been fostering + discontent,—it may even amount to revolt,—among; these men. If + you say you were with Crust and that he was not out of your sight all + evening, I will believe you. You may be a misguided, domineering fool, Mr. + Landover, but you are honest. You have failed to appreciate what you were + stirring up,—what you were letting yourself and all the rest of us + in for, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + Landover flushed. He compressed his lips for a second or two before + speaking. + </p> + <p> + “My opposition to you as a dictator, Percival, hardly warrants the + implication that I am in a sense responsible for the devilish thing that + happened last night.” + </p> + <p> + “I grant you that,” said Percival. “Nevertheless, it is your purpose to + down me, no matter what it costs,—isn't that true?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not true. There is an honest, sincere belief on the part of + some of us that you are not the man to rule this camp. You may call it + politics, if you like,—or revolt, if you prefer.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll call it politics, Mr. Landover. It was not politics that made me + the superintendent of construction here, however. I've looked after the + job to the best of my ability. I am ready to retire whenever the people + decide they've found a better man. You may be right in supposing that + Manuel Crust is the right man for the job,—but I don't agree with + you.” + </p> + <p> + Landover started. “Nothing is farther from my thoughts than to turn the + affairs of this camp over to Crust,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Once more I agree with you. But that is what you will be doing, just the + same. If you think that Manuel Crust is going to play second fiddle to + you, Mr. Landover, you'll suddenly wake up to find yourself mistaken. You + know what Crust is advocating, don't you? Well, I guess there's nothing + more to be said on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “We will drop it, then,” said Landover curtly. “I merely want you to + understand that Crust had no hand in last night's affair. I can vouch for + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you vouch for each and every member of his gang?” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about his gang, as you call it. If I am not mistaken, this + fellow Mendez is one of your pet supporters. He may be double-crossing + you.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll see. For the present, your friend Crust is safe. As long as he + lives within the law, he is all right. We're going to have law and order + here, Mr. Landover. I want you to understand that. The best evidence that + most of us want law and order is the incredible manner in which these + people have curbed their natural instincts.” + </p> + <p> + “No one wants law and order more than I,” said Landover. + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose Manuel Crust is of the same mind, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “So far as I know, he is,” replied the other firmly. + </p> + <p> + Percival looked at him in blank astonishment. “Well, I'm damned!” he said, + after a moment. “Do you really believe that?” + </p> + <p> + “It does not follow that he is an advocate of lawlessness and disorder + because he happens to be opposed to some of your pet schemes, does it, Mr. + Percival?” inquired Landover ironically. + </p> + <p> + “One of my pet schemes happens to conflict seriously with Manuel's pet + scheme, if that will strengthen your argument any, Mr. Landover.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe Crust ever had any such thought,” said the other flatly. + </p> + <p> + “We're not getting anywhere by arguing the point,” said Percival. He + turned to walk away. + </p> + <p> + “Just a moment,” called out Landover, after the younger man had taken a + few steps. “See here, Percival, I don't want you to misunderstand me. If + there is anything in this talk about Crust,—you know what I mean,—and + if it should come to the point where stern measures are required, I will + be with you, heart and soul. You know that, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + Percival studied the banker's face for a moment. “I've never doubted it + for an instant, Landover. We may yet shake hands and be friends in spite + of ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + Landover turned on his heel and walked away, and Percival, with a shrug of + his shoulders, set about making preparations to safe-guard Sancho Mendez + when he was brought in from the wood. He posted a number of reliable, + cool-headed men around the “meetinghouse,” many of them being armed. + Arrangements were made for barricading the door and the few windows. The + prisoner was to be confined in the building, a long, low structure, and + there he was to tell his story and stand trial. There was to be no delay + in the matter of a trial. + </p> + <p> + “You will sit as judge, Mike,” said the “boss,” addressing Malone. “There + will not be any legal technicalities, old man, and there won't be any + appeal,—so all you've got to do is to act like a judge and not like + a lawyer. We've got to do this thing in the regular way. Try to forget + that you have practiced in the New York City courts. Remember that there + is such a thing as justice and pay absolutely no attention to what you are + in the habit of calling the law. The law is a beautiful thing if you don't + take it too seriously. Ninety-nine out of every hundred judges in the + courts of the U. S. A. sit through a trial worrying their heads off trying + to remember the law so that they can keep out of the record things that + might make them look like jackasses when the case is carried up to a + higher court,—and while they are thinking so hard about the law they + forget all about the poor little trifle called justice. I guess you know + that as well as I do, so there's no use talking about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I do,” said Michael Malone. “I live on technicalities when I'm in + New York. If it were not for technicalities, I'd starve to death. And, my + God, man, if we had to stop and think about justice every time we go into + court, we'd be a disgrace to the profession.” + </p> + <p> + Percival, Peter Snipe, Flattner and several others strode out from the + meeting-house and swept the long line of huts with serious, apprehensive + eyes. They had expected to find the people congregated at some nearby + point, ready to swoop down upon the prisoner the instant he appeared with + his captors at the edge of the wood. To their amazement and relief, the + people had taken Percival's command literally. They had retired to their + huts, and but few of them were to be seen, even on their doorsteps. + </p> + <p> + “Can you beat it?” cried Snipe. “By golly, boys, they've put it squarely + up to us. It's the greatest exhibition of restraint and confidence I've + ever known. This couldn't have happened at home. Hello!” + </p> + <p> + The gaze of all was centred upon two persons who walked rapidly in the + direction taken by Fitts and his party. No one spoke for a few seconds. + Flattner, after a quick look at Percival's set, scowling face, was the + first to speak. To a certain degree, he understood the situation. It was + out of pure consideration for his friend's feelings that he said: + </p> + <p> + “I'll go and head 'em off, A. A.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, old chap,—but there's no sense in getting yourself + disliked. I'll do it. I'm in bad already,—and besides I'm the one + who gave the order.” + </p> + <p> + Near the end of the row of huts, he drew alongside of Ruth Clinton and + Landover. + </p> + <p> + “The order was meant for every one, Miss Clinton,” he said levelly. “Am I + to understand that you have decided to ignore it?” + </p> + <p> + She stopped short and drew herself up haughtily. Their eyes met. There was + defiance in hers. She did not speak. Landover confronted Percival, white + with fury. + </p> + <p> + “I am capable of looking after Miss Clinton,” he exclaimed. “Your beastly + officiousness—” + </p> + <p> + “You will go back to your cabin at once, Miss Clinton,” said Percival, + ignoring Landover. + </p> + <p> + She did not move. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Clinton came out here at my suggestion,” said Landover. “If you have + any more bullying to do, confine yourself to me, Percival.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not doing this because I enjoy it, Miss Clinton,” went on the young + man, still looking into her unwavering eyes. “I am sorry it is necessary + to remind you that there are no privileged classes here. You will have to + obey orders the same as every one else.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she said, suddenly lowering her eyes. “Take me back to the + cabin, Mr. Landover. There is nothing more to say.” + </p> + <p> + Percival stood aside. They walked past him without so much as a glance at + his set, unsmiling face. Landover slipped an arm through hers. She did not + resist when he drew her up close to his side. Percival saw him lean over + and speak to her after they had gone a few paces. His lips were close to + her ear, but though his voice was low and repressed, the words were + distinctly audible to the young man. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth darling, I am sorry,—I can't tell you how sorry I am for + having subjected you to this insult. God, if I could only help matters by + resenting it, I—” + </p> + <p> + She broke in, her voice as clear as a bell. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if I were only a man,—if I were only a man!” + </p> + <p> + They were well out of hearing before Percival looked despairingly up at + the pink and grey sky and muttered with heartfelt earnestness: + </p> + <p> + “I wish to God you were. I'd like nothing better than to be soundly + threshed by you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <p> + Just before sunset that evening, Sancho Mendez was publicly hanged. + Confessing the crime, he was carried to the rude gibbet at the far edge of + the wheat field and paid the price in full. He had been tried by a jury of + twelve; and there was absolutely no question as to his guilt. His + companion, a lad named Dominic, callously betrayed by the older man, fled + to the forest and it was not until the second day after the hanging that + he was found by a party of man-hunters, half-starved and half-demented. He + was hanged at sunrise on the following day. + </p> + <p> + Manuel Crust considered himself glorified. After a fashion, he posed as a + martyr. Some sort of cunning, as insidious as it was unexpected, caused + him to assume an air of humility. He went about shaking his head + sorrowfully, as if cut to the quick by the unjust suspicions that had been + heaped upon him by the ignorant, easily-persuaded populace. + </p> + <p> + Sentiment began to swing toward him. He and his so-called followers were + vindicated. It was his gloomy, dejected contention that if Providence had + not intervened he and his honest fellows undoubtedly would have been + placed in the most direful position, so strong and so bitter was the + prejudice that conspired against him. He was constantly thanking + Providence. And presently other people undertook to thank Providence too. + They began to regard Manuel as a much-abused man. + </p> + <p> + The burly “Portugee” haunted the cabin of Pedro the farmer. He was the + most solicitous and the most active of all who strove to befriend and + encourage the unhappy father, and no one was more devoted than he to the + slowly-recovering girl. He carried flowers to Pedro's hut; he did many + chores for Pedro's wife; he went out into the woods and killed the + plumpest birds he could find and cooked them himself for Pedro's daughter. + </p> + <p> + Presently he began to assert a more or less proprietary interest in the + family. It was no uncommon thing for him to issue orders to the nurses; he + hectored the Doctor; and on several occasions he went so far as to offend + such well-meaning ladies as Mrs. Spofford, Madame Careni-Amori, Mrs. Block + and others when they appeared at Pedro's cabin with delicacies for the + girl. And finally the people in that end of the camp began to speak of + Manuel Crust as a good fellow and a gentleman! + </p> + <p> + On Easter Sunday he stood guard over Pedro's cabin while that worthy and + his family went to the “Tabernacle” to attend the special services. Two of + the nurses were inside with the girl, but outside sat Manuel, a grim + watch-dog that growled when any one approached. + </p> + <p> + The horror of that black night and the days that witnessed the wiping out + of Sancho Mendez and Dominic hung like a pall over the camp. Both + executions had been witnessed by practically all of the inhabitants. + Captain Trigger came ashore. + </p> + <p> + With set, relentless faces the people watched two men go to their doom. + The women were as stony-faced, as repressed, as the men. Save for the + involuntary groans, and the queer hissing sound of long-pent breath as the + black-capped figures swung off into space, the tremulous hush of intense + restraint rested upon the staring crowd. + </p> + <p> + Twice they came out to see men they had known and respected “hanged by the + neck until dead,” and on neither occasion was there the slightest + manifestation of pity, nor was there a single word of gloating. They + watched and then they went away, leaving the victims to be disposed of by + the men selected for the purpose. No shouts, no execrations, no hysterical + cries or sobs,—nothing save the grim silence of awe. For these + people, even to the tiniest child, had ceased to live in the light of + other days. + </p> + <p> + Peter Snipe, in his journal, wrote of that silent, subdued throng as other + historians have written of the rock-hearted people of Salem, and of the + soulful Puritans who grew heartless in the service of the Lord. + </p> + <p> + They stood afar-off and watched the small detachment of sailors carry the + bodies down to the basin, and every one knew that Sancho Mendez and + Dominic, heavily weighted, were rowed out to the middle and dumped into a + bottomless grave. Some there were who declared that their bodies would + sink for ages before reaching the bottom,—and no one thought of + Sancho Mendez and Dominic without picturing them as gliding deeper and + deeper into the endless abyss of water. + </p> + <p> + Michael Malone's speech to the multitude on the shorn edge of the wheat + field was brief. He spoke from the scaffold on which Sancho Mendez, the + blacksmith, sat with a noose around his neck. + </p> + <p> + “This man has been fairly tried and he is being fairly punished. There is + no way to circumvent the laws of God or the laws of man on this island, my + friends. The guilty cannot escape. If we transgress the law, we must pay + in proportion to our transgression. This man is to die. The laws of our + homeland would not have demanded the life of such as he,—but they + should, my friends, they should. This island is small. It will be easy for + us to keep it clean,—and we must keep it clean. We must not live in + fear of each other. The lion and the lamb lie down together here; the + thief and the honest man walk hand in hand. Our sins will find us out. We + cannot hide them. Remember that. In this little land of ours there is + nothing to stand in the way of the soundest principle ever laid down for + man. 'Do unto others as ye would have others do unto you.' That is the + Golden Rule. All we have to do is to observe that rule and there will be + no use for the Ten Commandments, nor the laws of Moses, nor all the laws + that man has made. We don't even have to be Christians. 'Do unto others as + ye would have others do unto you.' That, my friends, is the law of laws. + It is the religion of religions.” + </p> + <p> + “Soapy” Shay, sitting before the fire in his cabin a few nights after the + executions, held forth at some length and with peculiar emphasis on what + he called an exploded theory. + </p> + <p> + “As I said before, and as I've always said,—not being a drinking man + myself,—it's all bunk about booze being responsible for all the + crimes that are committed. Now here were these two guys, Sancho and + Dominic. Look at what they did,—and they hadn't touched a drop for + months. I'm not saying that licker is a soothin' syrup for a man's morals, + but what I am saying is that if a feller has got it in him to be ornery, + he'll be ornery, drunk or sober. I was tellin' Parson Mackenzie only this + morning that him and me both have good reason for not touchin' the stuff,—for + different reasons, of course,—but I didn't see why other people + oughtn't to have it if they want it. + </p> + <p> + “With me, in my former profession, it would have been criminal to touch + the stuff. The worst crime a burglar can commit is to get drunk. No + decent, bang-up burglar ever does it. I don't suppose there is a more + self-respectin' sort of man in the world than a high-grade burglar. And + it's the same with a preacher. He can't any more preach a good sermon when + he is lit up than a burglar can crack a safe or jimmy a window if he tanks + up beforehand. The parson seemed surprised when I put it right up to him + like that. He said he'd never thought of it in that light before. Of + course, says he, a minister of the gospel ain't even supposed to know what + licker tastes like, and I says to him that's where we have the advantage + of him. We know what it tastes like, and we like it, and we leave it alone + because it cramps our style. He leaves it alone because it's the style for + preachers to leave it alone, and because they'd go to hell if they drank + like ordinary men. The only place a burglar goes to if he boozes is jail. + </p> + <p> + “Well, as I was sayin', this here Sancho wasn't soused when he committed + that crime, and it all goes to prove that these temperance cranks are off + their base. Most of the crime that's committed in this world is committed + because the feller wants to commit it. When I was up in Sing Sing once,—sort + of by accident, you might say,—there was a lot of talk about prison + reform, and pattin' the crooks on the back, and tellin' them they could be + just as good as anybody else if they had a chance. The only chance them + guys want, and keep lookin' for night and day, is a chance to lift + something when nobody's lookin'. That's all they're thinkin' about while + they're in the pen, and God knows they're as sober as judges all the time + they're there. Crime is crime and you can't always lay it to booze. It's + human nature with some people. I'm not sayin' the world wouldn't be better + off if there wasn't any licker to drink. It stands to reason that there + wouldn't be half so much bunglin' if people kept sober, 'specially when it + comes to crime. Now, if this guy Sancho had had a couple of pints in him, + everybody would be going around preachin' about the horrible effects of + booze, and—What say?” + </p> + <p> + “I said you make me tired,” said Buck Chizler, repeating his remark. “I + never did anything wrong in my life except when I was half-soused.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” agreed Soapy. “But you'd have done it right if you'd been sober, + my boy. That's the principal trouble with booze. It never gives a feeler a + chance to do anything right.” Whereupon, with a slow wink for the other + members of the group, he arose and passed out into the night. + </p> + <p> + “I can't make that feller out,” grumbled Buck, uncomfortably. + </p> + <p> + Easter Sunday was bright and clear, following a fortnight of cold, + penetrating winds and rain. The sun smiled, but it was a cold smile that + mocked rather than cheered. The sky was the colour of thin, transparent + ice; the vast white dome was unspotted by a single cloud; the rose tints + of early morn, frightened away at birth by the chill, unfeeling glare, + took with them every promise of tenderness that dawned with the new day. + But, though the sky was hard, the air was soft; the tang of the salt-sea + spice lay over everything. + </p> + <p> + Percival had no active part in the exercises arranged by Ruth. The song + service was held in the open. A platform had been erected in front of the + “tabernacle” (the meeting-house on occasion) for the choir and musicians. + There were no seats for the congregation. Every one stood, bareheaded, in + a wide semi-circle facing the platform. The “boss” took his place + inconspicuously among those who formed the outer fringe of the assemblage. + His gaze seldom left the face of the girl he loved. Once her eyes met his. + She was on the platform discussing arrangements with the two clergymen + when her roving, unsettled gaze chanced to fall upon him. For many seconds + she stared at him fixedly,—so fixedly, in fact, that Father + Francisco, after a moment, shot a look in the same direction. Even from + his far-off post, Percival saw the colour mount to her cheeks as she + hastily turned away to resume the conversation that had been so + incontinently broken off. She was bare-headed. He had been watching the + sun at play among the coils of her soft, dark hair,—a glint here as + of bronze, a gleam there as of gold, ever changing under the caresses of + that flaming lover a hundred million miles away. + </p> + <p> + The affable Mr. Nicklestick was standing beside Percival, carrying on a + more or less one-sided conversation. + </p> + <p> + “You see, it's this way,” he was saying, contriving to reduce his + far-reaching voice to a moderate undertone; “I'm not in the habit of + attending Easter services. I'm not opposed to them, believe me, A. A.,—not + in the slightest. Now at home in New York, I make it a habit to walk from + the Metropolitan Museum down to the Waldorf-Astoria regularly every + Easter. Between eleven and twelve-thirty. You get them going into certain + churches and you get them coming out of others, don't you see? Oh, vat + would I give to be on Fif' Avenue at this minute, A. A.! A hundred + thousand dollars,—gladly, villingly,—yes, two hundred + thousand! I vonder vat things are like on Fif Avenue now,—at this + minute, I mean. I vonder what the vimmin are wearing this season. My God, + don't you vish you were on Fif Avenue, A. A.?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “I say don't you vish you were on Fif Avenue now?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't,” gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “You—you don't?” gasped Nicklestick. “My God, where do you wish you + were?” + </p> + <p> + “Over in France,—or better still, in Germany,—that's where I'd + like to be. Keep still! Can't you see Careni-Amori is singing?” + </p> + <p> + Nicklestick was silent for two minutes. Then he volunteered: “Do you know + what that song vould cost if she vas to give it in the Metropolitan Opera + House, A. A.? A thousand dollars, von thousand simoleons. And we get it + for nothing. It ain't possible to realize that you can get something for + nothing in these days, is it? I vas saying to Morrie Shine only this + morning that—” + </p> + <p> + “Sh!” hissed an exasperated Brazilian in front of them. + </p> + <p> + “I guess we better not talk any more, A. A.,” said Nicklestick, + deprecatingly. Presently he leaned close to Percival's ear and whispered: + “Miss Clinton is looking very fine today, isn't she?” Receiving no reply, + he waited a moment and then went on: “Landover is a very lucky dog, eh?” + Failing again, he was silent for some time. His next effort was along a + totally different line. “I've been feeling some of the people out in + regard to the election next week. I think it's a great idea. You got a + cinch, A. A. Nobody vants anybody but you for governor. What seems to be—” + </p> + <p> + “Sh!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you go to the devil!” addressed the exasperated Mr. Nicklestick to + the Brazilian. “Ain't we got freedom of speech here on this island? Veil, + then! What seems to be troubling most every one, A. A., is who is the best + man for clerk. Nobody vants to be treasurer, for why? Because there ain't + anything to be treasurer about. Say, where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere,” replied Percival, as he strode away. + </p> + <p> + Over against the line of trees on the opposite side of the wheat field + still loomed the gibbet from which Sancho Mendez and Dominic had stepped + blindfolded into another and darker world. While Pastor Mackenzie, leading + up to the glorious resurrection, was repeating the story of the + Crucifixion, Ruth Clinton, sitting behind him on the platform, stared + wide-eyed at this gaunt object, and she saw not Christ on the Cross but + the spectre of Sancho Mendez falling off into darkness. Percival's gaze + followed hers, and his heart smote him,—for it was he who had + demanded that the gruesome reminder be left standing as a warning to + carrion. And he had laughed when Peter Snipe christened it “the + scarecrow!” + </p> + <p> + “Leave it standing, A. A.,” Peter had said, “and you can bet your boots no + jailbird will ever roost on it if he thinks twice. And it's just that sort + of thing that makes a man think twice.” + </p> + <p> + But the look of dread in the eyes of this girl who could do no wrong, and + yet was to be everlastingly tortured by the sight of the thing that stood + as a silent accuser of all who looked, was more than Percival could stand. + Easter Sunday,—and that gibbet pointing its long arm toward the + little flock in the shadow of sanctuary,—mocking the good as it + beckoned to the bad,—Easter Sunday and that! + </p> + <p> + He stole quietly away, circling the edge of the crowd, his head bent, his + teeth set. Just as he was about to pass from view around the corner of the + “tabernacle,” he cast a quick glance at the girl on the platform. Their + eyes met again. She turned her head quickly, but he was certain that she + had followed his movements from the beginning. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <p> + Toward the close of the exercises, the congregation was startled by the + sound of an ax smiting wood. The blows were rapid and vigorous. The + surprised people looked at each other first in wonder and then in + consternation. Who was guilty of this unseemly sacrilege? + </p> + <p> + Finally those on the edge of the multitude discovered the wielder of the + ax. Some one, not easily recognizable, was chopping away the supports of + the scaffold. The crowd grew restless; angry mutterings were to be heard + on all sides. Every eye was turned from the platform to glare at the lone + chopper across the fallow field. + </p> + <p> + Madame Careni-Amori, who was about to begin her second song, looked + helplessly at Ruth Clinton. + </p> + <p> + Ruth had recognized the man at once. At first she was annoyed, then there + surged over her a great, uplifting thrill of exaltation. She stepped + quickly to the front and, raising her clear young voice, reclaimed the + wandering attention of the throng. + </p> + <p> + “Please be quiet. Madame Careni-Amori is to sing for us once more. Mr. + Percival is knocking down that horrible thing over there. It is right that + he should. We do not need it there as a warning. Mr. Percival has had a + change of heart. He has been moved,—tremendously moved,—by + what he has seen in your faces today. That is why he is over there now + hacking down that dreadful thing. It is the skeleton at our feast. We were + conscious of its presence all the time. He is over there all by himself + cutting it down so that our hearts may be lighter, so that this glad hour + may end without its curse. Please remain where you are. He requires no + assistance. He prefers to do it all alone. And now, if you will all give + attention, Madame Careni-Amori will sing for us.” + </p> + <p> + Careni-Amori lifted up her glorious voice in song. The rhythmic beat of + the ax went on unceasingly; the powerful arms and shoulders of the + destroyer were behind every frenzied blow. As the last notes of the song + died away, there came the sound of splintering wood, then a dull crash, + and the gibbet lay flat upon the ground. Some one uttered an involuntary + shout. As Percival turned from his completed work and wiped the sweat from + his brow with his bare forearm, he found the gaze of the entire company + fastened upon him. Then there came to his ears the clapping of hands, then + the shrill clamour of voices raised in approbation. Swinging the ax on + high, he buried its blade deep in the fallen timber and left it imbedded + there. Snatching up his coat from a nearby stump, he waved his hand to the + crowd and then, whirling, was quickly lost among the trees that lined the + shore. + </p> + <p> + Landover walked beside the thoughtful Ruth as she crossed the Green on her + way home. He studied her lovely profile out of the corner of his eye. As + they drew away from the dispersing throng, he spoke to her. + </p> + <p> + “If money were of any value here in this Godforsaken spot, I would offer + considerably more than a penny for your thoughts, Ruth.” + </p> + <p> + She started slightly. “You couldn't buy them, Mr. Landover. They are not + for sale at any price.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose there is no harm in venturing a guess, however. You will give + me one guess, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + “All the guesses you like,—free of charge,” she rejoined airily. + </p> + <p> + “You are trying to decide whether or not it was all done for effect.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled mysteriously, looking straight ahead. Her eyes were very + bright. + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong. I was thinking about hats, Mr. Landover. Don't you know + that every woman's thoughts run to hats on Easter?” + </p> + <p> + “I confess I had a better opinion of him,” he said, disregarding her + flippancy. “I don't like him, but I've never suspected him of being a + stupid ass before.” + </p> + <p> + “Of whom are you speaking?” she inquired, suddenly looking him full in the + eye. + </p> + <p> + “Our mutual friend, the enemy,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Percival?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “But I thought he was beneath our notice.” + </p> + <p> + “We can't very well help noticing him when he goes to such extreme lengths + to attract attention.” + </p> + <p> + “You think he did it to attract attention?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so much that, perhaps, as to get back into the lime-light. You see, + he was rather out of it for as much as half an hour, and he simply + couldn't stand it. So he went off and staged a little sideshow of his + own.” + </p> + <p> + She walked on in silence for a few moments, torn by doubts and misgivings. + Landover's sarcastic analysis was like a douche of cold water. Perhaps he + was right. It had been a spectacular, not to say diverting, exhibition. + Her eyes darkened. An expression of pain lurked in them. + </p> + <p> + “I can't believe it of him, Mr. Landover,” she said at last, in a slightly + muffled voice. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it was understood you were to call me Abel, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “If he did it deliberately,—and with that motive,—it was + unspeakable,” she went on, a faint furrow appearing between her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I may be wrong,” said he magnanimously. “It may have been the + result of an honest, uncontrollable impulse. But I doubt it.” + </p> + <p> + “Men do queer, strange things when under the influence of a strong + emotion,” she said, a hopeful note in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “True. They are also capable of doing very base things. You don't for an + instant suspect Percival of being a religious fanatic, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Please don't sneer. And what, pray, has religion to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say Morris Shine is again lamenting the absence of a motion + picture camera. He is always complaining about the chances he has missed + to—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Ruth dear, I—” + </p> + <p> + “We have no right to judge him, Mr. Landover.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you defending him?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe he had the faintest notion that he was being—theatrical, + as you call it. I am sure he did it because he was moved by an + overpowering desire to make all of us happy. He couldn't bear the thought + of that evil thing out there, pointing at us while we worshipped and tried + to sing with gladness in our hearts. No! He did it for you, and for me, + and for all the rest of us,—and he made every heart lighter when + that thing toppled over and fell. Did you not see the change that came + over every one when they realized that it was destroyed? There were smiles + on every face, and every voice was cheerful. The look of uneasy dread was + gone—Oh, you must have seen.” + </p> + <p> + “I can only say that it ought to have been done before, Ruth,—not + during the exercises.” + </p> + <p> + “It was his way of publicly admitting he was wrong in insisting that it + should remain.” + </p> + <p> + “He had his way with that weak-kneed committee, as usual. The tactics of + that Copperhead Camp he talks so much about are hardly applicable to + conditions here. We are not law-defying ruffians, you know,—and + these are women of quite another order.” + </p> + <p> + “No one,—not even you, Mr. Landover,—can say that he has been + anything but kind and considerate and sympathetic,” she flashed. “He is + firm,—but isn't that what we want? And the people worship him,—they + will do anything for him. Even Manuel Crust respects him,—and obeys + him. And you, down in your heart, respect him. He is your kind of a man, + Mr. Landover. He does things. He is like Theodore Roosevelt. He does + things.” + </p> + <p> + Landover smiled grimly. “Perhaps that is why I dislike him.” + </p> + <p> + “Because he is like Roosevelt?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, let's not start an argument about Roosevelt.” + </p> + <p> + “Just the same, I've heard you say over and over again that you wish + Roosevelt were President now,” she persisted. “Why do you say that if you + are so down on him?” + </p> + <p> + Landover shrugged his shoulders expressively. + </p> + <p> + “I can wish that, my dear, and still not be an admirer of Mr. Roosevelt,” + he replied. “But to return to Percival, isn't it quite plain to you that + he was pouting like a school-boy because he had not been asked to take + part in today's exercises?” + </p> + <p> + “He was asked to take part in them. I asked him myself.” + </p> + <p> + He glanced at her sharply. “You never told me you had asked him, Ruth.” + </p> + <p> + “The night the crime was committed,” she said briefly. “He was very nice + about it. He promised to sing in the choir and—and to help me with + the decorations. After our unpleasant experience the next day, he had the—shall + we say tact or kindness?—to reconsider his promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Openly advertising the fact that he preferred to have no part in any + entertainment you were arranging,” was Landover's comment. “I don't + believe it was because of any particular delicacy of feeling on his part, + my dear. In any case, the fact remains that he let you go ahead with the + affair, and then, bang! right in the middle of it he stages his cheap, + melodramatic, moving-picture act. Bosh!” + </p> + <p> + She turned on him with blazing eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You will not see anything good in him, will you? You can't be fair, can + you? Well, I can be,—and I am. He has been fair with both of us,—and + I am ashamed of the way I have treated him. We deserved his rebuke that + morning, and he did not hesitate to turn us back,—although he + realized what it would mean. He loves me, Abel Landover,—he loves me + a thousand times more than you do, in spite of all your protestations. He—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Ruth,—I—I—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—I know,—I know you are shocked. And I don't care,—do + you understand? I don't care that! You want your answer, Mr. Landover. + Well, you shall have it now. I cannot marry you. This is final.” + </p> + <p> + The blood left his face. “You don't know what you are saying, Ruth,” he + exclaimed. “You are angry. When you have had time to—” + </p> + <p> + “I've had all the time I need,” she interrupted shortly. “I don't want to + be disagreeable,—but it's no use, Mr. Landover. I do not love you. I + am sorry if I have misled you into hoping. There is nothing more to be + said.” + </p> + <p> + “You have misled me,” he cried out bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “I am to blame, I suppose, for not giving you your answer before this. I + have temporized. It is a woman's trick,—and a horrid one, I'll + admit. I have never even thought of marrying you.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you in love with Percival?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—I think I am,” she replied, looking him straight in the eye. + She spoke with a sort of gasp, as if releasing a confession that surprised + even herself. + </p> + <p> + “My God, Ruth,—I can't believe it,” he groaned. + </p> + <p> + “I have denied it to myself—oh, a thousand times,—I've fought + against it. I've tried to hate him. I've done everything in my power to + make him believe that I despise him. But it's no use,—it's no use. I—I + can't think of anything else. I can't think of any one else. Oh, I know I + am quite mad to say this, but I sometimes find myself praying that we may + never be rescued. It might mean—well, you can see what it might + mean. Thank God, you have driven me to this confession. It is the first + time I have been really honest with myself. I have lied to myself over and + over again about my feeling toward him. I have lain awake for hours at + night lying to myself—telling myself that I hate him and always will + hate him. Now, it's out,—the truth is out. I have never hated him,—I + have cared for him from the very beginning.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke rapidly, the words rushing forth like a flood suddenly released + after breaking through the dam, sweeping everything before it,—resistless, + devastating, cruelly rapturous. She thought nothing of the hurt she was + inflicting upon the man beside her; he was an atom in the path of the + torrent, a thing that went down and was left behind as the flood swept + over and by him. As suddenly as it began the torrent was checked. A hot + flush seared her neck, her cheeks, her brow. + </p> + <p> + “What a fool you must think me!” she cried in dire chagrin. “What a stupid + fool!” + </p> + <p> + He had not taken his eyes from her transfigured face. He had listened with + his jaw set, his lips tightly pressed, his brow dark with anger. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think that,” he said shortly. “You have merely lost your head, as + any woman might, over a picturesque, good-looking soldier of fortune. + Perhaps I should not be surprised, nor even shocked by what you've just + told me. He is the sort that women do fall in love with,—and I + suppose they are not to be blamed for it. No, I do not think you are a + fool. When one reflects that such experienced heads as those possessed by + the irreproachable Obosky, the immaculate Amori,—to say nothing of + the estimable lady we are pleased to call the 'Empress of Brazil,'—when + such heads as theirs are turned by a man it is high time to admit that he + has something more than personal magnetism. I am wondering how far the + contagion has really spread. There is a difference between contagion and + infection, you know. Infection is the result of personal contact,—contagion + is something in the air. This epidemic of infatuation very plainly is in + two forms. It appears to be both infectious and contagious. I rather fancy + the amiable Obosky has selected the former type of the prevailing malady. + Percivalitis, I believe, is the name it goes by.” + </p> + <p> + There was no mistaking the significance of his words. The implication was + clear, even though veiled in the heaviest sarcasm. He had the satisfaction + of seeing the colour ebb from her cheek. Her face being averted, he missed + the swift flicker of pain that rushed to her eyes and, departing, took + away with it the soft light that had glowed in them the instant before. He + had touched a concealed canker,—the sensitive spot that had been the + real cause of her sleepless, troubled nights,—the thing she had + refused in her pride to accept as the real source of discomfort. + </p> + <p> + Down in her soul lay the poison of jealousy, a cruel and malignant + influence that until now had been subdued by a mind stubbornly unwilling + to recognize its existence. + </p> + <p> + In the eagerness to supply herself with additional reasons for hating + Percival, she had given her imagination a rather free rein in regard to + his relations with Olga Obosky. While she was without actual proof, she + nevertheless tortured herself with suspicions that came almost to the same + thing; in any case, they had the desired effect in that they created a + very positive sense of irritation, and nothing seemed to please her more + in the dead hour of night than the feeling that she had a right to be + disgusted with him. + </p> + <p> + And now, Landover, in his sly arraignment, prodded a very live, raw spot, + and she knew that it was bleak unhappiness and not rancour that had kept + her awake. + </p> + <p> + “Is it necessary to beat about the bush, Mr. Land-over? If you have + anything definite to tell me about Mr. Percival and Madame Obosky, I grant + you permission to say all you have to say in the plainest language. Call a + spade a spade. I am quite old enough to hear things called by their right + names.” + </p> + <p> + “Since you have been so quick to get my meaning, I don't consider it + necessary to go into details. I daresay you have ears and eyes of your + own. You can see and hear as well as I,—unless you are resolved to + be both blind and deaf.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you not hear me say that I know he loves me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—I heard you quite distinctly.” + </p> + <p> + “As a rule, do men love two women at the same time?” she inquired, + patiently. + </p> + <p> + “I have never said that he loves Obosky. It is barely possible, however, + that he may not choose to resist her,—if that conveys anything to + your intelligence.” + </p> + <p> + “It does and it does not,” she replied steadily. “You see, I believe in + him. I trust him.” + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose you trust Olga Obosky,” he said, with a sneer. + </p> + <p> + “I understand Olga Obosky far better than you do, Mr. Landover.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt it,” said he drily. + </p> + <p> + “She is my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! That measurably simplifies the situation. She will no doubt prove her + friendship by delivering Mr. Percival to you, slightly damaged but + guaranteed to—” + </p> + <p> + “Please be good enough to remember, Mr. Land-over, that you are not + speaking to Manuel Crust,” she exclaimed haughtily, and, with flaming + cheeks, swept past him. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated a moment, and then started to follow her. She stopped short + and, facing him, cried out: “Don't follow me! I do not want to hear + another word. Stop! I can see by your eyes that you are ashamed,—you + want to apologize. I do not want to hear it. I am hurt,—terribly + hurt. Nothing you can say will help matters now, Mr. Landover.” + </p> + <p> + “Just a second, Ruth,” he cried, now thoroughly dismayed. “Give me a + chance to explain. It was my mad, unreasoning love that—” + </p> + <p> + But, with an exclamation of sheer disgust, she put her fingers to her ears + and sped rapidly down the walk. He stood still, watching her until she + entered the cabin door and closed it behind her. Then he completed the + broken sentence, but not in the voice of humility nor with the words that + he had intended to utter. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> + <p> + Shay, coming up the walk, distinctly heard what he said. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Bill?” he inquired, pausing. “Did she throw the hooks + into you?” + </p> + <p> + Landover glared at him balefully. “You go to hell, damn you,” he snarled, + and walked away. + </p> + <p> + “Soapy” rubbed his chin dubiously as he watched the retreating figure. + Pursing his thin lips, he turned his attention to an unoffending stump six + or eight feet away and scowled at it vindictively. He was turning + something over in his mind, and he was manifestly in a state of + indecision. Ruminating, he spoke aloud, perhaps for the benefit of a + Portuguese farm-hand who happened to be approaching from the opposite + direction, but who still had some rods to cover before he was within + hearing distance. + </p> + <p> + “Gee, he's getting to be as decent and democratic as any of us. Shows what + association will do for a man. Two months ago he would have been too high + and mighty to tell me to go to hell. If he keeps on at this rate, he'll be + worth payin' attention to in a couple of months more. Won't he, Bill?” + This to the farmhand, who obligingly halted. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Shay made constant and impartial use of the name Bill. Except in a + very few instances, he applied it to all males over the age of two, and he + did it so genially that resentment was rare. Americans, Britons, Irishmen, + Portuguese, Spaniards, Indians, Swedes,—all races, in fact, except + the Hebrew,—came under the sweeping appellation. His Hebrew + acquaintances were addressed by the name of Ike. + </p> + <p> + It so happened that this particular “Bill” was lamentably slow in picking + up the English language. It was even said that he prided himself on being + halfwitted. However, being an exceedingly dull creature, he was quite + naturally a polite one. He was a good listener. You could speak English to + him by the hour and never be annoyed by verbal interruptions. At regular + intervals he would insert a shrug of the shoulders, or nod his head, or + lift an eye-brow, or spread out his hands, or purse his lips,—and he + never smiled unless you did. + </p> + <p> + Perceiving that some sort of an answer was expected, “Bill” wisely + shrugged his shoulders. “Soapy” interpreted the shrug as affirmative,—having + a distinct advantage over “Bill,” who hadn't the faintest idea which it + was,—and proceeded to go a little deeper into the matter. + </p> + <p> + “Now, as I was saying, this Landover guy is up against something, Bill. + She handed him something he didn't like. Right on the nose, too, if I'm + any judge. What do you suppose it was, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + “Bill” nodded his head very earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I think,” said “Soapy,” fixing his hearer with a moody, + speculative frown. “Now, I know something about this Landover guy that she + don't know. I suppose A. A. will give me an awful panning if I up and tell + her what I saw that day. He seems to think it's a secret.” + </p> + <p> + There was a slight pause, suggesting to “Bill” that he ought to frown as + if also in doubt. + </p> + <p> + “At the same time, I think she ought to be told, don't you, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + This called for something definite. So Bill scratched his left ear. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, she's too nice a girl to be hitched up with a + Priscilla like him. Now, I don't know what happened here a couple of + minutes ago, but it looks to me as if she needs a little moral support. It + strikes me that this would be a good time to tell her. What do you think + about it, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + Always on the lookout for rising inflections, “Bill” was ever in a + position to give prompt replies. He could dispose of the most profound + questions almost before they were out of the speaker's mouth. His answer + to “Soapy's” query was a broad grin,—for he had detected a sly + twinkle in the speaker's eye. He also shrugged his shoulders and spread + out his hands,—and, to clinch the matter, he winked. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I don't want to take this important step without being backed-up by + some clever, intelligent feller like you, Bill,” went on “Soapy.” “It's + all for her good,—and A. A.'s, too, although he won't see it in that + light. If you say you think she ought to be told, that's enough for me. If + you say she oughtn't,—why, nothing doing. It's up to you, Bill.” + </p> + <p> + “Bill” was plainly at sea. You can't decide a question that lacks an + interrogation point. So all that “Bill” could do was to stare blankly at + “Soapy” and wait for something tangible to turn up. Mr. Shay suddenly + appreciated the poor fellow's dilemma and supplied the necessary relief. + </p> + <p> + “What say, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon “Bill” started to shake his head, but, catching the scowl of + disapproval on “Soapy's” brow, hastily changed his reply to a vigorous + nod. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” exclaimed Mr. Shay. “That completely clears my conscience. So + long, Bill.” + </p> + <p> + And half a minute later he presented himself at Ruth Clinton's cabin. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness!” exclaimed Mrs. Spofford, as she opened the door. She also + opened her eyes very wide, and sent a startled, apprehensive glance over + her shoulder into the warm, fire-lit interior. “What do you want?” she + demanded querulously of the unexpected visitor. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Shay took off his hat. “I'd like a few words with Miss Clinton,” he + said. “I saw her come in, so she's not out. It's important, ma'am. She + will hear something to her advantage, as they say in the personals.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you please return at three o'clock, Mr. Shay? My niece is resting + after the arduous labours of the—” + </p> + <p> + “I dassent wait,” said “Soapy,” with a furtive glance over his shoulder. + “If he sees me, I'll probably have to change my mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is it, Auntie?” called out a clear voice from within. + </p> + <p> + “'Soapy' Shay,” replied the visitor himself. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Landover will be here presently, Mr. Shay,—” began the obstacle + in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “I guess not,” broke in “Soapy,” forgetting himself so far as to wink. “I + expect you haven't heard the news, ma'am. He's had his nose put out of + joint.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! His nose out of—” + </p> + <p> + “Come in, Soapy,” cried Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth, my dear,—do you know who—do you know what—” + </p> + <p> + “Sure she knows,” again interrupted “Soapy,” unembarrassed. “I'm not after + anybody's jewels, Mrs. Spofford,—and besides which I am the + principal candidate for Sheriff of this bailiwick. You don't suppose a man + who's running for the office of sheriff on Mr. A. A. Percival's ticket is + going to lift anything before election, do you? Besides which I've made up + my mind to be straight as long as I'm on this island, and if I'm elected,—which + I will be,—I'm going to see that nobody else does anything crooked. + Mr. A.A. Percival is a wise guy,—a mighty wise guy. Says he to me, + 'Soapy, you are one of the most expert—'” + </p> + <p> + “Come inside, Soapy,” called out Ruth. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Shay entered. “You better shut the door, Mrs. Spofford,” he said + coolly. “What I got to say is private. As I was saying, A. A. says to me, + 'Soapy, you are one of the craftiest and slipperiest crooks on this side + of the Atlantic Ocean. What you don't know about crime would fill a book + about as thick as a postage stamp. There's nobody on this island more + fittin' to be an officer of the law. You know everything that an officer + of the law ought to know, and besides which you know everything that a + thief has to know. So you're going to be elected Sheriff of Trigger + Island.' That's what A. A. says to me, and, as usual, he's dead right. + Why, ma'am, there ain't a thief in the universe that can fool me. I don't + have to have any evidence,—not a grain of it. All I got to do is to + just ask 'em why they done it. But what I dropped in to see you about, + Miss Ruth, is—Say, you ain't by any chance expecting A. A. to drop + in, are you? I wouldn't have him ketch me here for—” + </p> + <p> + “I am not expecting Mr. Percival, Soapy,” she said, her gaze fixed + expectantly on the man's face. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said he, “I got a little story to tell you. It's the gospel + truth. Just try to forget that I used to be a crook and that in ordinary + times I am one of the most gosh-awful liars on earth. But there's + absolutely no pleasure in lying nowadays, and as for working at my regular + trade, Mrs. Spofford, you needn't be the least bit nervous. It ain't + necessary for you to set on that trunk. Take this chair, please. Now, you + remember some time back that A. A. and your friend Landover had a mix-up + in the last named gentleman's stateroom, and you also must remember that + Mr. Landover told you about it and that Mr. Percival never told you + anything about it. Well, I was a witness to that fracas. I just happened + to be walking along the deck when something caught my eye and I went up + close to see what it was. You'd never guess what it was. After looking at + it very carefully I discovered it was a port-hole.” + </p> + <p> + Forsaking his whimsical manner, he related tersely in as few words as + possible the story of the encounter. + </p> + <p> + “Now, it's my guess that Mr. Abel Landover didn't speak the whole truth + and nothing but the truth when he furnished you with his version of the + affair. Am I right, or am I wrong?” he asked, in conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “I prefer to believe Mr. Landover's story,” said Mrs. Spofford stiffly. + “Will you be good enough to go now, Mr. Shay?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” said “Soapy,” rising. “I'm not asking anybody to take my word + against his. I'm just telling you, that's all. Good afternoon, ladies.” + </p> + <p> + “It was not Mr. Percival who fired the shot? You are sure of that, Soapy?” + Ruth was standing now. Her eyes were very dark and tempestuous. + </p> + <p> + “Sure as my right name ain't Soapy Shay,” returned the witness, holding up + his right hand. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth, it isn't possible that you place any credence in—” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for coming, Soapy,” interrupted Ruth. “It was very good of + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Soapy” lingered at the door, fumbling his dilapidated hat. Mrs. Spofford + was staring speechlessly at her niece. + </p> + <p> + “I'd a little sooner you wouldn't say anything to A. A. about me peaching + on him,” said “Soapy,” somewhat nervously. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not 'peach' on you, Soapy,” said the girl, a joyous smile + suddenly illuminating her face. + </p> + <p> + “Soapy” went out. As he closed the door, he said to himself: “Next time + you tell me to go to hell, Abe Landover, I guess you'd better furnish a + guide that knows the way.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as the door was closed, Mrs. Spofford turned upon her radiant + niece. + </p> + <p> + “You are not such a fool as to believe that rascal's story, Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe every word of it!” cried the girl. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> + <p> + Sailors, sniffing the gale that night, shook their heads and said there + was snow on the tail of it. Morning found the ground mottled with splashes + of white and a fine, frost-like sleet blowing fitfully across the plain. + The ridge of trees over against the shore became vague and shapeless + beneath the filmy veil, while the sea out beyond the breakers was clothed + in a grey shroud, bleak and impenetrable. + </p> + <p> + Knapendyke was positive and reassuring in his contention that no great + amount of snow ever fell upon the island. While much of the vegetation was + of a character indigenous to the temperate zone, there was, he pointed + out, another type peculiar to tropical climates,—and although the + latter was of a singularly hardy nature, it was not calculated to survive + the rigours of a harsh, protracted winter. + </p> + <p> + “We'll have spells like this, off and on, just as they occasionally do in + Florida or Southern California, is the way I figure it out,” he said to + the group of uneasy men who contemplated the embryonic blizzard with alarm + and misgiving. “Moreover, I believe the wet, cold season is a short one + here. The birds are content to stick it out. The fact there is no + migration is proof enough for me that the winter is never severe. As the + weather prognosticators say, look out for squalls, unsettled weather, + frost tonight, rising temperature tomorrow, rain the next day, doctors' + bills the end of the month. Avoid crowded street-cars, passenger elevators + and places of amusement. Take plenty of out-door exercise and don't eat + too many strawberries.” + </p> + <p> + Children, on their way to school in the town hall, shouted with glee as + they romped in the snow-laden gale. It had no terrors for them. They were + not concerned with the dour prospect that brought anxiety to the hearts of + their elders. + </p> + <p> + “It's fine to be a kid,” said Percival, watching the antics of a crowd of + boys. “Why do we have to grow up?” + </p> + <p> + “So that we can appreciate what it was to be a kid,” said Randolph Fitts. + </p> + <p> + Ruth Clinton was one of the teachers. There were, all told, about thirty + children in the school, their ages ranging from five to fourteen. Most of + them were youngsters from the steerage, bright-eyed little Latins who had + picked up with lively avidity no small store of English. They were being + taught in English. + </p> + <p> + The council, spurred by the far-seeing Percival, recognized the perils of + a period of inactivity following the harvest and the flailing days. The + majority of the men and women would be comparatively idle. Preparations + for the building of a small ship occupied the time and interest of a few + engineers and ship-carpenters, but as some weeks were bound to pass before + the work could be begun in earnest, an interim of impatience would have to + be bridged. Work, and plenty of it, was the only prescription for despair. + </p> + <p> + Already symptoms of increasing moodiness marked the mien of the less + resourceful among the castaways. While it was not generally known, two men + had attempted suicide, and one of the Brazilian ladies,—a beautiful + young married woman,—was in a pitiful state of collapse. She had a + husband and two small children in Rio Janeiro. The separation was driving + her mad. There were others,—both men and women,—whose minds + were never free from the thought of loved ones far across the waters and + whose hearts ached with a great pain that could not be subdued by + philosophy, but they were strong and they were cheerful. In their souls + burnt an unquenchable fire, the fire of hope; they stirred it night and + day with the song of the unvanquished. + </p> + <p> + Improvements in the hastily constructed cabins provided not only + occupation but interest for the able-bodied men and women. There was no + little rivalry in the matter of interior embellishments; those skilled in + the use of implements took great pride in hewing out and adding more or + less elaborate ornamentation to the facades of their habitations,—such + as casements, door-posts and capitals, awnings, porches, and so forth. A + shell road was in process of construction from one end of the village to + the other, while over in Dismal Forest woodsmen were even now cutting down + the towering Norfolk pines and hewing out the staunch timbers for the ship + that was to sail out one day in quest of the world they had left behind + them. But these enterprises provided work for men only. The women, in the + main, were without occupation. With the approach of winter the men in + active control of the camp's affairs realized that something would have to + be done to relieve the strain,—at least, to lighten it until spring + came to the rescue with toil in the fields and gardens. + </p> + <p> + A system of exchange was being worked out. As has been mentioned before in + this chronicle, the people of the steerage were the plutocrats. Their + hoardings represented real money, the savings of years. When it came to an + actual “show-down,”—to use Percival's expression,—these people + who were poor in the accepted sense, now were rich. They could “buy and + sell” the “plutocrats” of another day and another world. + </p> + <p> + The theory that one good turn deserves another was an insufficient + foundation upon which to construct a substantial system of exchange. It is + all very well to talk about brotherly love, said Percival. The trouble is + that certain brothers are for ever imposing upon other brothers, and the + good turn does not always find its recompense. Socialism, he argued, is a + fine thing until you discover that you are not alone in the world. + Brotherly love began with Cain and Abel, and socialism is best exemplified + by a parlour aquarium. Nothing happens to disturb the serene existence of + the goldfish until somebody forgets to feed them, and then they begin + nibbling at each other. + </p> + <p> + “You mend my fence, I'll mend yours,” is an ideal arrangement until you + find it is “our fence” and doesn't need mending. + </p> + <p> + To Landover, Block and other financial experts was delegated the power and + authority to perfect a fair, impartial monetary system. First of all, they + arbitrarily declared the dollar, the peso and the shilling to be without + value. “Time” script was to be issued by the governing board, and as this + substitute would automatically become useless on the day the castaways, + were discovered and taken off the island, no citizen was to be allowed to + reduce or dissipate his hoard of real money. + </p> + <p> + Landover's proposal that a central depository be established for the + purpose of holding and safe-guarding the possessions of each and every + person was primarily intended to prevent the surreptitious use of real + money. This project met with almost universal opposition. The “rich” + preferred to hang onto their money, thereby running true to form. While + professing the utmost confidence in the present integrity of the banker + and his friends they ingenuously wanted to know what chance they would + have of getting their money back when these masters of finance were ready + to leave the island! So they elected to hide their gold and silver where + it would be safe from unscrupulous financiers! And nothing could shake + them in this resolve. + </p> + <p> + “Time” was the basic principle on which the value of the script was to be + determined, and as “time,” in this instance, meant hours and nothing else, + a citizen's income depended entirely on his readiness to work. Ten hours + represented a full day's work. The hand-press on board the Doraine was + used to print the “hours,” as the little slips made from the stock of menu + card-board were called. They were divided into five denominations, viz.: + One Hour, Three Hours, Five Hours, Seven Hours and Ten Hours. Each of + these checks bore the signature of Abel T. Landover and a seal devised by + Peter Snipe, who besides being an author was something of a draughtsman,—indeed, + his enemies said he was a far better artist than he was an author, which + annoyed him tremendously in view of the fact that he had stopped drawing + when he was fifteen because eminent cartoonists and illustrators had told + him he had no talent at all. The printing and stamping was done on board + the Doraine and the script was shortly to be put into circulation. + Landover was slated to become treasurer of Trigger Island at the general + election. + </p> + <p> + As an illustration, this sort of dialogue was soon to become more or less + common: + </p> + <p> + “What's the price of this hat, Madame Obosky?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-seven hours, Mrs. Block.” + </p> + <p> + Or: + </p> + <p> + “Gimme an hour's worth of 'smoke,' Andy,” meaning, of course, the + substitute for tobacco. + </p> + <p> + Or: + </p> + <p> + “You blamed robber, what do you mean charging six hours for half-soling + them shoes? If you was any good, you could ha' done it in half the time.” + </p> + <p> + Every individual in camp over the age of thirteen was obliged to have an + occupation. To a certain extent, this occupation was selective, but in the + main it was to be determined by a board whose business it was to see that + the man-power was directed to the best advantage for all concerned. A camp + tax was ordered. At the end of the week, every citizen was required to pay + into the common treasury two “hours.” He could not “work out” this tax. It + had to be paid in “cash.” Out of the taxes so received, the school, the + church, the “hospital” and the “government” were to be supported. + </p> + <p> + The “governor” of Trigger Island and the humblest workingman were to + receive exactly the same pay: “hour” for hour. Thirty thousand “hours” + represented the total issue, or, approximately fifty units for each + individual over the age of thirteen. + </p> + <p> + As no man's hours was worth more than another's, and as every transaction + was to be based on time, rather than on money, there was no small + likelihood that any one man or group of men could ever obtain a commanding + grip on the finances of the Island. + </p> + <p> + And so it came to pass that all manner of enterprises sprang into + existence. Competition was not allowed. There could be but one millinery + shop, one dress-making establishment, one shoe and sandal factory, and so + on. Everything was conducted on a strictly cash basis; there were no + “charge accounts.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Obosky, as the proprietress of the millinery shop, earned no more + than any one of her half-dozen assistants,—and they were all paid by + the “government.” The same could be said of Madame Careni-Amori, who + conducted a school of music, and the great Joseppi who graciously,—even + gladly,—went into the tailoring business. Andrew Mott, one time + First Officer on the Doraine, opened a “smoke” store and dispensed cured + weed that Flattner authorized him to call “tobacco.” The austere Mrs. + Spofford decided to open a dress-making shop! + </p> + <p> + It was all very simple, this man-to-man system of traffic, but no one took + it lightly or in the spirit of jest. They were serious, they were + sober-minded. Interest, incentive, grim determination centred in the + seemingly childish arrangement. Greed was lacking, for there was no chance + to hoard; confidence was paramount, for there was no chance to lose. + </p> + <p> + The “hours” travelled in a circle, from the “government” to people, from + people to “government”; when all was said and done, it was the product of + soil and sea that formed the backbone of the system. + </p> + <p> + With the adoption of the plan, it was to become a punishable offence,—indeed, + it was to be classified as treason,—for any resident of Trigger + Island to “forage” for necessities. He could do what he pleased in respect + to the non-essentials, but when it came to foodstuffs of any kind or + description, he was guilty of a felony if he failed to turn all that he + produced or secured into the general stores. + </p> + <p> + “Strikes me,” said Randolph Fitts in council meet-ing, “that we are + arriving at the most exquisite state of socialism. This comes pretty close + to being the essence of that historic American dream, 'of the people, by + the people, for the people.' Up to date, that has been the rarest + socialistic doctrine ever promulgated, but we are going it a long sight + better. 'From the people, by the people, to the people.' What do you call + that but socialism?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you speaking to me?” demanded Percival. + </p> + <p> + “In a general way, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's not my idea of socialism. So far as I've been able to + discover, socialism is a game in which you are supposed to take something + out of your pocket and put it into the other fellow's whether he wants it + or not. This scheme of ours is quite another thing. We're not planning to + split even on what we've got in our pockets so much as we're planning to + divide what we've got in our hands, and there's a lot of difference + between a hand and a pocket, old top. You can see what's in one and you + can't see what's in the other. And, by the way, Fitts, if we let the + socialists in this camp suspect that we're trying to introduce socialism + here, there'll be a revolution before you can say Jack Robinson. They + won't stand for it. They'd let out the blamedest roar on record if they + thought we were trying to deprive them of the right to feel sorry for + themselves.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth hurried over to the town-hall bright and early on this snowy, gusty + morning. The forenoon session of the school began punctually at 8:30 + o'clock. She was there half an hour ahead of time to see that there was a + roaring fire in the huge fire-place, and that the benches for the scholars + were drawn up close to it. There were two teachers besides herself,—and + both of them were experienced “school marms.” She taught the “infant + class,” comprising about a dozen tots. The three teachers took turns about + in building the fires, arranging the benches and cleaning the crude + blackboard. + </p> + <p> + There had been church-services the night before, and the benches were all + in use, arranged so that they faced the combination pulpit-rostrum-stage + at the far end of the room. Tonight there was to be a general committee + meeting to discuss the prospective financial scheme and the general + election that was to take place the following week. + </p> + <p> + The structure was not blessed with a paucity of names. If there was to be + a council-meeting or a camp assembly, it was called the “Meeting-house.” + On Sundays it became the “tabernacle.” Week-days it was known as the + “schoolhouse,” and at odd times it was spoken of as the “theatre,” the + “concert-hall,” and the “Trigger Island court-house.” In one corner stood + the grand piano from the Doraine, regularly and laboriously tuned by the + great Joseppi. Madame Careni-Amori gave vocal and instrumental lessons + here every afternoon in the week, from three to six. Among the older + children there were a number who had voices that seemed worth developing, + and the famous soprano put her heart and soul into the bewildering task of + stuffing the rudiments of music down their throats. + </p> + <p> + Ruth stopped just inside the door and looked about her in astonishment. + The benches had been drawn up in an orderly semi-circle about the + fire-place. Beyond them she observed the figure of a man kneeling before + the fire, using a bellows with great effect. The big logs were snapping, + and cracking, and spitting before the furious blasts. + </p> + <p> + She closed the door and started across the room in his direction. Suddenly + she recognized the broad back and the familiar but very unseasonable + panama hat. Panic seized her. She turned quickly, bent on making her + escape. Her heart was beating like a triphammer,—she felt strangely + weak in the knees. As abruptly, she checked the impulse to flee. Why + should she run away, now that the moment she had wished for so ardently + the night before was at hand? Chance had answered her call with amazing + swiftness. She was alone with him,—she could go to him and lay her + weapons at his feet and say,—as she had said a hundred times in the + night,—“I can fight no more. I am beaten.” + </p> + <p> + But now that the time had come for bravery, she found herself sorely + afraid. A chill swept through her,—a weakening chill that took away + her strength and left her trembling from head to foot. The crisis was at + hand,—the great, surpassing crisis. She found herself hazily, + tremulously wondering what the next minute in her life would be like? What + would be said in it, what would happen to her? Would she be in his arms, + would his lips be upon hers,—all in the minute to come? Was the + whole of her life to be altered in the brief space of a minute's time? + </p> + <p> + A warm glow suddenly drove off the chill. It came with the realization + that he was building the fire for her,—that his thoughts were of + her,—that he had stolen into the building to make it warm and + comfortable long before she was due to arrive,—and that he would + steal away again as soon as the “chores” were done. + </p> + <p> + He arose to his feet and stood over the fire for a moment or two, watching + its lively progress. Apparently satisfied with his efforts, he turned and + started toward the door. She was standing in his path, a shy, wavering + smile on her lips. + </p> + <p> + He halted, and after an instant's hesitation, stammered: + </p> + <p> + “I—I never dreamed you'd be around so early. I thought I'd run in as + I was passing and build a fire for—for the kiddies. Get the place + warmed up a bit before—” + </p> + <p> + “Will you let me say something, Mr. Percival?” she broke in, hurrying the + words. + </p> + <p> + He fumbled for his hat. “I am sorry if you are annoyed, Miss Clinton. + Please believe me when I tell you I hoped to get out before you came. I + came early so that you would not find me—” + </p> + <p> + “You are not letting me say what I want to say.” + </p> + <p> + She came toward him, her hand extended. “Oh, I don't want to thank you for + lighting the fire and putting the room in order. I want to tell you that I + surrender.” + </p> + <p> + “Surrender?” he exclaimed, staring. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot fight you any longer,” she said breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + He looked dumbly first at her hand and then into her eyes. She was an + arm's length away. + </p> + <p> + “Fight me?” he mumbled, uncomprehending. + </p> + <p> + “You—you said we could not be friends. I knew what you meant. If—if + you love me,—oh, if you do love me, we need not be friends. But I + know you love me. If I did not know it I could not have come to you like + this and—” + </p> + <p> + “Do I love you?” he cried out. “My God, I—I worship you.” + </p> + <p> + She held out both arms to him. “Then, we will try no more to be friends,” + she murmured very softly. “Here are my arms. I surrender.” + </p> + <p> + A long time after he said to her as they sat before the jubilant, + applauding fire,—the only witness to their ecstasy: + </p> + <p> + “Now I understand why we have never really been friends. It wasn't what + God intended. Even in the beginning we were not friends. We thought we + were,—but we weren't. We were lovers, Ruth,—from the start.” + </p> + <p> + “I tried very hard to hate you,” she sighed, drawing a little closer in + the crook of his encircled arm. “How wonderful it all is,—how + wonderful!” + </p> + <p> + “I never believed it could come true. I hoped, God, how I hoped,—but + it didn't seem possible that this could ever happen. I've wanted to hold + you in my arms, to kiss your dear lips, to kiss your eyes, to touch your + hair, to press you tight against my heart. And here I am awake, not + dreaming, not longing,—and I have done all these things. Lord! I + wonder if I can possibly be dreaming all this for the thousandth time.” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking of you when I came into this room,—not ten minutes + ago,—and suddenly I saw you. I was terrified. I knew then that my + dreams were coming true,—I knew it, and I don't know why I did not + run away. Any self-respecting, modest girl would have done so. But what + did I do? I, a supposedly sensible, well-brought-up—” + </p> + <p> + “You caught me trying to run away,” he broke in. “I give you my word, my + heart was in my throat all the time I was working over that fire,—scared + stiff with the fear that you would come in and bayonet me with one of + those icicle looks of yours. And see what really happened!” + </p> + <p> + They were silent for some time, staring into the fire. Suddenly his arm + tightened; he drew a sharp breath. She looked up quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Why are you frowning?” + </p> + <p> + “I was just thinking,” he replied after a moment's hesitation. + </p> + <p> + He gave a queer little jerk of his head, as if casting off something that + bothered him. Into his paradise had slipped the memory of a night not long + since when he held the yielding, responsive form of another woman in his + arms, and felt the thrill of an ignoble passion surging through his veins. + The kiss of the sensualist had burned on his lips for days; even to this + hour it had clung to them; he was never free from the fire it had started + in his imagination. And always on Olga's red, alluring lips lurked the + reminder that she had not forgotten; in her eyes lay the light of + expectancy. + </p> + <p> + “Of whom?” asked Ruth, not coyly, but with a directness that startled him. + She seemed to have divined that his thoughts were not of her in that + brief, flitting instant. + </p> + <p> + “Of myself,” he answered, quite truthfully. + </p> + <p> + She laid her hand on his. “I forbid you to think of any one but me,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment. “I shall never think of any one but you, Ruth + Clinton,” he said earnestly. “You have nothing to fear.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you,” she said, and pressed his hand tightly. After a slight + pause, she went on, looking straight into his eyes: “I might have lost + you, dear,—and I could have blamed no one but myself. She—she + is very alluring.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. “I've always been of the opinion that Samson's hair + needed trimming. His mother probably brought him up with Fauntleroy curls, + poor chap. If he'd had his hair cut regularly, he wouldn't have looked + such an ass when Delilah got through with him.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't quite follow the parable.” + </p> + <p> + “In other words, it's what a man's got in his head and not so much what + he's got on it that makes him strong,” he explained, still more or less + cryptically. + </p> + <p> + “I am beginning to see. You made good use of what you have in your head, + is that it?” + </p> + <p> + “I made use of what you put into it a good many months ago, dear heart. + You have been in my head and in my heart all these months, and so it was + you who made me strong. Without you in there, I might have been as weak as + Samson was before he had his hair cut. No sensible man blames Delilah. In + fact, men are rather strong for her. When you stop to think how long old + Samson got away with it, and what a shock it must have been to her after + she trimmed him and found there wasn't anything left to speak of, you've + just got to feel sorry for her. She took one good look at his head and + understood why he let his hair grow. He was like the fellow who wears long + whiskers to develop his chin. If Samson had had room enough in his head + for a thought of anything except himself, Delilah wouldn't have been able + to catch him napping.” + </p> + <p> + She could not help laughing. “You take a most original way of evading the + point. Still, I am satisfied. You did not have room in your head for any + one else but me,—and that's all there is to it. I can't help feeling + tremendously complimented, however. She is quite capable of turning any + man's head.” + </p> + <p> + “She plays fair, Ruth,” he said seriously. “She keeps the danger signal up + all the time. That's more than you can say for most women.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said she; “she plays fair. She is a strange woman. She has given me + a lot of advice,—and I am just beginning to take it.” + </p> + <p> + “If I had believed what she told me three months ago,” said he, “this + glorious hour would have been advanced just that length of time.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth stiffened. “What did she tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “She told me I was a fool and a coward; that all I had to do was to walk + up to you and say 'Here, I want you,' and that would have been the end of + my suspense. She told me something I didn't know and couldn't believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! I like her impudence! She—” + </p> + <p> + “She told me you were as much in love with me as I was with you. Honest,—was + she right?” + </p> + <p> + Ruth sighed. “I suppose she was right.” + </p> + <p> + “And would you have come to me if I had said 'I want you '?” + </p> + <p> + “If you had said it as you say it now, I—listen! Good gracious! + There are the children!” + </p> + <p> + She sprang to her feet, blushing furiously. The door opened and three + small children were fairly blown into the room,—three swarthy, + black-eyed urchins who stared in some doubt at the “boss” and the adored + “teacher.” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, children,” she cried out jerkily, and then glanced at each + of the windows in quick succession. “You don't suppose,—” she began + under her breath, turning to Percival with a distressed look in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't put it above 'em,” said he, cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “We should have thought of the windows.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God, we didn't,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + He went out into the storm with the song of the lark in his heart. + </p> + <p> + “God, what a beautiful place the world is!” he was saying to himself, and + all the while the sleet was stinging his radiant face with the + relentlessness of angry bees. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. + </h2> + <p> + As he swung jauntily down the road in the direction of his “office,” all + the world might have seen that it was a beautiful place for him. He passed + children hurrying to school, and shouted envious “hurry-ups” to them. Men + and women, going about the morning's business, felt better for the cheery + greetings he gave them. Even Manuel Crust, pushing a crude barrow laden + with fire-wood, paused to look after the strutting figure, resuming his + progress with an annoyed scowl on his brow, for he had been guilty of a + pleasant response to Percival's genial “good-morning.” Manuel went his way + wondering what the devil had got into both of them. + </p> + <p> + Olga Obosky was peering from a window as he passed her hut. He waved his + hand at her,—and then shook his head. He had passed her three + dancing-girls some distance down the road, romping like children in the + snow. + </p> + <p> + Buck Chizler was waiting for him outside the “office.” The little jockey + had something on his mind,—something that caused him to grin + sheepishly and at the same time look furtively over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Can I see you for a coupla minutes, A. A.?” he inquired, following the + other to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Buck,—as many minutes as you like.” + </p> + <p> + Buck discovered Randolph Fitts and Michael Malone seated before the fire. + He drew back. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to see you outside,” he said nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it?” asked Percival, stepping outside and closing the door. + </p> + <p> + Buck led him around the corner of the hut. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't so windy here,” he explained. “Awful weather, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “What's troubling you, Buck? Put on your cap, you idiot. You'll take + cold.” + </p> + <p> + “Plumb nervousness,” said Buck. “Same as if I was pulling up to the start + with fifty thousand on the nag. I want to ask your advice, A. A. Just a + little private matter. Oh, nothing serious. Nothing like that, you know. I + just thought maybe you'd—Gosh, I never saw it snow like this up + home, did you? Funny, too, when you think how tropical we ought to be. + There was a bad blizzard a coupla years ago in Buenos Aires, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Come to the point, Buck. What's up?” + </p> + <p> + Buck lowered his voice. “Well, you see it's this way. I'm thinking of + getting married. Tomorrow, if possible. Don't laugh! I don't see anything + to laugh at in—” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, old chap. I couldn't help laughing. It's because I'm + happy. Don't mind me. Go ahead. You're thinking of getting married, eh? + Well, what's to prevent?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you approve of it? That's what I want to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. Of course, I approve of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I just thought I'd make sure. You see, nobody's ever got married here + before, and I didn't know what you'd think of me—er—sort of + breaking the ice, don't you see.” + </p> + <p> + “She's finally said 'yes,' has she? Good girl! Congratulations, old chap,—thousands + of 'em'—millions.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that takes some of the load off my mind,” said Buck, as they shook + hands. “Now, there's one or two things more. First, she says she won't + come and live in a hut where five men besides myself are bunking. I don't + blame her, do you? Second, she says if we ever get rescued from this + island, she won't let me go to the war,—not a step, she swears. I + put up a holler right away. I says to her I was on my way to the war + before I ever met her, and then she says I ain't got anything on her. She + was going over to nurse. But she says if she gets married she's going to + claim exemption, or whatever they call it, and she says I got to do the + same,—'cause we'll both have dependents then. Then I says the + chances are the war's over by this time anyhow, and she says a feller in + the Argentine told her on his word of honour it wouldn't be over for five + years or more. But that's a minor point. What's rusting me is this: how am + I going to get rid of them five guys in my cabin?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you told them you're going to be married?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hell, they're the ones that told me.” + </p> + <p> + “It's pretty rough weather to turn men out into the cold, unfeeling world, + Buck.” + </p> + <p> + Buck scratched his ear in deep perplexity. “Well, it's got me guessing.” + He slumped into an attitude of profound dejection. “What we'd ought to + have done, A. A., was to build a hotel or something like that. If we had a + hotel here, there'd be so blamed many weddings you couldn't keep track of + 'em. That's the only thing that's holding people back. Why, half the + unmarried fellers here are thinking about getting married. They're + thinking, and thinking, and thinking, morning, noon and night. And they've + got the girls thinking, too,—and most of the widders and old maids + besides. I don't see how a smart feller like you, A. A., happened to + overlook the possibility of just this kind of thing happening.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord, what have I got to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, darn it all, you'd ought to have put up a few huts with 'For Rent' + signs on 'em, or else—” + </p> + <p> + “By George, Buck! I've got it,” cried Percival excitedly. “Have you + thought of a wedding journey?” + </p> + <p> + “A what?” + </p> + <p> + “Wedding trip,—honeymoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we might walk up and down the main street here a coupla times,” + said Buck sarcastically. “Or take a stroll along the beach or something + like that.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with a nice long sea voyage?” + </p> + <p> + “Say, I'm not kidding about this thing,” exclaimed Mr. Chizler, bristling. + “I'm in dead earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “Has it occured to you that the Doraine is lying out there in the harbour—Here! + Look out! I don't like being hugged by—” + </p> + <p> + “My gosh, A. A! Oh, my gosh!” barked the ecstatic bridegroom-apparent. + “How did you happen to think of such a beautiful, wonderful—” + </p> + <p> + “How did I happen to think of it?” shouted Percival, just as ecstatically. + “Why, darn your eyes, why shouldn't I think of it? Why did old Noah think + of the Ark? Why, I ask you?” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't,” said Buck succinctly. “The feller that wrote the Bible + thought of it.” + </p> + <p> + “What time is it? Oh, Lord, nearly three hours yet before school is out.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, are you off your base,—lemme smell your breath. You act like—Wait + a second! There's something else I want to speak to you about. Is it—is + it all right for me to get married? She says I'll have to get your O. K. + before she'll move an inch. She says nobody can do anything around here + without you say so. So I—” + </p> + <p> + “You tell her I give my consent gladly, Buck, my boy. Give her a good kiss + for me, and say I'll speak to Captain Trigger this afternoon about passage + on the Doraine. By George, I—I think I'll go and speak to him about + it now.” + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged, boss. By gosh, you are a brick. There ain't anything you + won't do for a friend, is there?” + </p> + <p> + Percival blushed and stammered. “I—I've got to see him anyhow, Buck,—so + don't thank me. By the way, while I'm about it, I suppose I might as well + speak to Parson Mackenzie, eh? Or is it to be Father Francisco? And that + reminds me, I'll have to see Malone and find out about the legality,—got + to have the law on our side, you see, Buck. Something in the form of a + license,—United States of America and all that,—and also see + about fixing up desirable quarters on board the Doraine. I may have to + transfer quite a lot of—er—furniture and so forth from my hut + to the ship, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Gee whiz, A. A., you mustn't go to so blamed much trouble for me,” gasped + the delighted Buck. + </p> + <p> + “Eh? What? Oh, the devil take you! Beat it now. I'm going to be mighty + busy this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do as much for you, A. A., if you ever get married,” cried Buck, + once more wringing the other's hand. Then he was off up the road like a + schoolboy. + </p> + <p> + Shortly before the noon recess, Percival returned from the Doraine. By + this time, the news had spread through the camp that there was to be a + wedding. Every one he met hailed him with the excited question: + </p> + <p> + “Say, have you heard the news?” + </p> + <p> + “What news?” + </p> + <p> + “There's going to be a wedding.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord!” said Percival to himself. “They must have been peeping + through those windows after all.” + </p> + <p> + Finding that he had ten minutes to spare before school was out, he decided + to call upon Mrs. Spofford. That lady received him with icy politeness. + </p> + <p> + “I have been expecting you,” she said. “Your friend Mr. Shay honoured us + with a visit yesterday. My niece is at the school. Will you sit down and + wait for her, or—” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon. What was that you said about Shay?” + </p> + <p> + “I said he came to see us.” + </p> + <p> + Percival stared, “He did?” + </p> + <p> + “Please sit down, Mr. Percival. Do not ask me to tell you anything more + about Mr. Shay,” she went on hurriedly, and in some confusion. “I don't + believe he would like it,—and as he is a dangerous character, I beg + of you not to—” + </p> + <p> + “If Soapy Shay dared to intrude—” + </p> + <p> + “I implore you, do not think anything more about it. He was most courteous + and polite and all that.” + </p> + <p> + He remained standing, his gaze fixed upon her face. Somehow, he guessed + the nature of Soapy's visit. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he came as a tale-bearer.” + </p> + <p> + “I must decline to discuss the matter, Mr. Percival.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Spofford,” he began, with all the dignity of a courtier, “I have + come to request the hand of your niece in marriage. I have loved her from + the very—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God!” groaned the trembling lady. “It has come at last! It has come,—just + as I feared. For pity's sake, Mr. Percival, spare her! She is—” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” he broke in, flushing. “I think you misunderstand me. + I am asking your consent to marry her. I believe it is still customary + among gentlemen to consult the—” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to interrupt you, Mr. Percival,” said she, regaining her + composure and her austerity. “What you ask is quite impossible. My niece + is,—ah,—I may say tentatively engaged. I am sorry for you. + Perhaps it would be just as well if you did not wait for her to come in. + She will be—” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Spofford, I am obliged to confess to you that I have already spoken + to Miss Clinton, and I may add that she is not tentatively engaged. She + has promised to be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + She drew back as if struck. She was silent for many seconds. + </p> + <p> + “It would appear that my consent is not necessary, Mr. Percival,” she said + at last, “Why do you come to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, while you may not suspect it, I was born a gentleman,” said he + stiffly. + </p> + <p> + She received this with a slight nod of the head and no more. + </p> + <p> + “My niece, no doubt in her excitement, has neglected to ask you one or two + very important questions,” she said levelly. “First of all, have you any + means of convincing us that you do not already possess a wife?” + </p> + <p> + He started. “You are right,” he said. “That is an important question, and + she has not asked it. I have no means of convincing you that I have never + been married, Mrs. Spofford. My word of honour is the only thing I can + offer.” + </p> + <p> + She regarded him narrowly. “Do you consider that sufficient, Mr. + Percival?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said he simply. She waited for him to go on, and was distinctly + impressed by his failure to do so. So far as he was concerned, there was + nothing more to be added. + </p> + <p> + “How are we to know what your past life contains? You may have left your + homeland in disgrace, you may even have been a fugitive from justice. We + have no means of knowing. You were a stowaway on board the Doraine. That + much, at least, we do know. We know nothing more. You are smart, you are + clever. Surely you must see yourself that under other circumstances, under + normal conditions, my niece would not have condescended to notice you, Mr. + Percival. We are on an undiscovered island, remote from the environment, + the society, the—” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to remind you, Mrs. Spofford,” he interrupted, a trifle coldly, + “that you just remarked that you know nothing whatever about me. Isn't it + barely possible that my life may contain something desirable in the shape + of family, position and environment?” + </p> + <p> + “I recall that Mr. Gray did speak of knowing the Percival family. My niece + never allows me to forget it.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gray did not know my family. He knew of my family, Mrs. Spofford, if + that conveys anything to you. Not that they would not have been proud to + have known him, for he was a gentleman. As for my own case, I can only say + that I am not a fugitive from justice, nor have I done anything more + disgraceful than the average young man who has been through college and + who, ignoring the counsel of his father, proceeds to find out for himself + the same things that his father had found out a great many years before,—and + his father before him, and so on back to the beginning of man. My + great-great-grandfather on my mother's side was a comparatively recent + settler in America. He didn't come over from Scotland until about 1750. My + father's people came over in the days of Lord Baltimore. Most of my remote + ancestors were very wicked men. You will find that one of them was + executed in the Tower of London the same week that Lady Jane Grey went to + her death, and another was openly in love with Mistress Nell Gwyn, thereby + falling into disgrace with a monarch named Charles. I admit that I come of + very bad stock.” + </p> + <p> + A fleeting twinkle lurked in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are very adroit, Mr. Percival.” + </p> + <p> + “Which is as much as to say that I have an agreeable and interesting way + of lying. Is that what you wish to imply, Mrs. Spofford?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. I say you are adroit because you place me in an embarrassing + position. If I believe your confession that you come of bad stock, I must + also believe that you come of an exceedingly good old Maryland family.” He + bowed very low. “My niece, Mr. Percival, is an orphan. I am and have been + her protector since she was fourteen years of age. She is the possessor of + a large fortune in her own right. Her father,—who was my brother,—gave + her into my care when he was on his death-bed. I leave you to surmise just + what were his dying words to me. She was his idol. I have not failed him + in any respect. You ask me to give my consent to your marriage. I cannot + do so. No doubt you will be married, just as you have planned. She loves + you. I have known it for months. I have seen this day and hour coming,—yes, + I have seen it even more clearly than she, for while she struggled + desperately to deceive herself she has never been able to deceive me. You + are a strong, attractive man. The glamour of mystery rests upon you. You + have done prodigious deeds here, Mr. Percival. All of this I recognize, + and I should be unfair to my own sense of honour were I to deny you my + respect and gratitude. I must be fair. Fear has been the cause of my + attitude toward you,—not fear of you, sir, but fear for my niece. + Now I am confronted by the inevitable. The thing I have tried so hard to + avoid has come to pass. In these circumstances, I am forced to confess + that I have not been without a real, true admiration for you. I admit that + I have felt a great security with you in command of our camp. But, even + so, you are not the man I would have chosen to be Ruth's husband. The time + is surely coming when we will be delivered from this island prison, when + we will return to the life and the people and the conditions we knew + before catastrophe made a new world for us. I am thinking of that time, + Mr. Percival, and not of the present. I fear my niece is thinking only of + the present and not of the future.” + </p> + <p> + He had listened with grave deference. “Forgive me if I appear impertinent, + Mrs. Spofford, but is it not, after all, the past you are thinking about?” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer at once. His question had startled her. + </p> + <p> + “Youth does not live in the past,” he went on quietly. “It deals only with + the present. I love Ruth Clinton,—I love her with the cleanest love + a man can feel for a woman. It will not alter when we leave this island. + If we are fated to spend the rest of our lives here, it will endure to the + end.” + </p> + <p> + “You are speaking for yourself,” she said. “Can you speak for Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I cannot,” he admitted. “Nor can you,” he added boldly. “That is what + I meant when I asked if you were not thinking chiefly of the past. I + cannot say that Ruth will love me always, but I can say this: she loves me + now, as I love her, and in her heart she has said just what I said to you + a moment ago,—that her love will endure.” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay I do think more of the past than of the present, Mr. Percival. + You are right about the future. It is a blank page, to be glorified or + soiled by what is set down upon it. Fate has thrown you two together. + Perhaps it was so written in the past that you despise. A single turn of + the mysterious wheel of fortune brought you into her life. Half a turn,—the + matter of minutes,—and you would never have seen each other, and you + would have gone your separate ways to the end of time without even knowing + that the other existed. No doubt you both contend that you cannot live + without each other. It is the usual wail of lovers. But are you quite as + certain in your minds that you would have perished if you had never seen + each other?” + </p> + <p> + The note of irony did not escape him. He smiled. “In that case, Mrs. + Spofford, we should not have existed at all.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head despairingly. “You are too clever for me,” she said. “I + warn you, however, that I shall do everything in my power to persuade Ruth + to reconsider her promise to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing could be fairer than that,” said he, without rancor. “If she + comes to me this afternoon and says she has changed her mind and cannot + marry me, I shall not ask her again. Will you be kind enough, Mrs. + Spofford, to include that in your argument? It may spare her a lot of + worry and anxiety.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed ceremoniously and took his departure. She went to the window and, + drawing aside the curtain, watched him until he disappeared down the road. + Then, as the curtain fell into place, she said to herself: + </p> + <p> + “Their children will be strong and beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. + </h2> + <p> + A fortnight later, Ruth and Percival were married. He was now governor of + Trigger Island. + </p> + <p> + The ceremony took place at noon on the Green in front of the Government + Building,—(an imposing name added to the already extensive list by + which the “meeting-house” was known),—and was attended by the whole + population of the island. His desire for a simple wedding had been + vigorously, almost violently opposed by the people. Led by Randolph Fitts + and the eloquent Malone, they demanded the pomp and ceremony of a state + wedding. As governor of Trigger Island, they clamoured, it was his duty to + be married in the presence of a multitude! A general holiday was declared, + a great “barbecue” was arranged—(minus the roasted ox),—and + when it was all over, the joyous throng escorted the governor and his lady + to the gaily decorated “barge” that was to transport them from the landing + to the Doraine. + </p> + <p> + Olga Obosky made the bride's bonnet and veil, and draped the latter on the + morning of the wedding day. Like the fabled merchants of the Arabian + Nights she appeared to the bride-elect and displayed her wares. From the + depths of her theatre trunks she produced a bewildering assortment of + laces, chiffon, silks, and the filmiest of gauzes. + </p> + <p> + “You must not be afraid zat they will contaminate you,” she explained, + noting the look of dismay in Ruth's eyes. “Zey have never adorned my body, + zey have never been expose to the speculating eye of the public, zey have + not hid from view these charms of mine. No, these are fair and virtuous + fabrics. It is you who will be the first to wear them, my friend. Take + your choice. See! Zis piece, is it not wonderful? It comes from Buda + Pesth. One day it would perhaps have caressed my flesh in the Dance of the + Sultan's Dream,—but, alas,—zat is not to be. Feel, my friend,—take + it in your hand. See? You could hide it in the palm of one of them,—and + presto! Throw it outspread,—and it is like a blanket of mist filling + the room. It is priceless. It is unobtainable. None except Obosky can + afford to dance in such imperial stuff as this. Take it,—it is + yours. It is my pleasure that you should have it. Better far it should be + your bridal veil than to drape these abandoned legs of mine.” + </p> + <p> + And so it was that the scant costume of the Sultan's Dream became the + bridal veil of the governor's lady. + </p> + <p> + If Olga Obosky was sore at heart, she gave no sign. On the contrary, she + revealed the sprightliest interest in the coming nuptials. Percival + himself had told her the news within the hour after his interview with + Mrs. Spofford. In his blind happiness, he had failed to notice the + momentary stiffening of her body as if resisting a shock; he did not see + the hurt, baffled look that darkened her eyes for a few seconds, and the + swiftly passing pallor that stole into her face and vanished almost + instantly. He saw only the challenging smile that followed close upon + these fleeting signs, and the mocking gleam in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “So?” she had said. “So the citadel is yours, my friend. Hail to the + chief! I salute you. But consider, O conqueror, what it is you are about + to do. You are setting a woeful example. There will be a stampede, a + panic. People will trample each other under foot in ze mad rush for + captivity. The wedding bell will crack under ze strain of so much ringing. + Everybody will be getting married, now zat they find it is so easy and so + simple. I congratulate you, my friend. You have been very slow,—I + have said she was yours for the asking, you will remember. She is good, + she is beautiful, she is pure gold, my friend. I am her friend. Do not + ever forget, my Percivail, I am her friend.” + </p> + <p> + He flushed warmly. He could not misinterpret her meaning. She spoke + slowly, deliberately. It was renunciation on her part. + </p> + <p> + “I understand, Olga,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She smiled, and shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you do not understand!” she cried. “You are so very much + perplexed. It is enough for me that you are perplexed. I am content. I am + the puzzle you will never solve. So! La la! You will never cease to + wonder. Look!” + </p> + <p> + She pointed her finger at a man who was crossing the Green below them. + </p> + <p> + “I am a puzzle to zat man also. He thought that he understood.” + </p> + <p> + “Landover? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + A spasm of fury transformed her features. She hissed out the words: + </p> + <p> + “I did spit in his face last night,—zat is all.” + </p> + <p> + The thirteenth of April, 1918, came on Saturday. Defying superstition, + Ruth selected it as her wedding day. It was a bright, warm autumn day, + bestowed by a gallant sun, and there was great rejoicing over this + evidence of God's approval. It came as a winter's whim, for that night the + skies were black and thunderous; the winds roared savagely between the + lofty walls of Split Mountain and whined across the decks of the slanting + Doraine, snug in the little basin, while out on the boundless deep the + turmoil of hell was raging. + </p> + <p> + And so began the honeymoon of the stowaway and the lady fair, even as the + “voyage” of the jockey and his bride had begun a fortnight before. They + sat at the Captain's table in the ghostly, dismantled saloon. Above them + hung two brightly burnished lanterns, shedding a mellow light upon the + festal board. Outside, the whistling wind, the swish of the darkened + waters, the rattle of davits and the creak of the straining timbers. + </p> + <p> + Up from his place at the head of the table rose the gray and gallant + skipper. + </p> + <p> + “Up, gentlemen,” said he, his face aglow. “I give you the health, the + happiness and the never diminishing glory of the governor's lady.” + </p> + <p> + “May she never be less,” added the gaunt First Officer, who spent his days + ashore watching the growth of a new Doraine and his nights on board with + the failing master of the older one. + </p> + <p> + And in the rare old port from the Captain's locker they pledged the + radiant bride. + </p> + <p> + “A long voyage and a merry one!” cried Mr. Codge, the purser, as he + drained his goblet dry. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Furman Nicholas Chizler bowed very gravely to the lady on the + Captain's right, and then to the one at his left. + </p> + <p> + “What care we which way we sail so long as the wind's behind us?” quoth + he. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK THREE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + In the far-off Northland it is winter again,—the winter of 1919-20. + Trigger Island is bright and clean with the furbishings of summer. It is + January,—January without its coat of white,—January as green + as the tender gourd. + </p> + <p> + There are a dozen graves or more on Cape Sunrise; Betty Cruise no longer + lies alone out on the windswept point. Crudely chiseled on the rough + headstones are names that have not been mentioned in this chronicle, still + not the less enduring. One name is there, however, chipped in a great + black slab from the face of Split Mountain, that will never be forgotten + as long as Trigger Island exists: it is that of Captain Weatherby Trigger. + </p> + <p> + The master of the Doraine died aboard-ship in the second winter. After his + death the ship was abandoned. Mr. Codge and the half-dozen old mariners + who had made their home in the dismal hulk came ashore. + </p> + <p> + Grim and ugly and as silent as the grave, save for the winds that moan + through her portholes and corridors, she lies rusting in sun and storm, a + gloomy presence that fills the soul with awe. Even the birds of the air + shun her barren decks; less fastidious bats have taken up their abode in + the heart of her, and spiders great and small are at work on a sickly + shroud. + </p> + <p> + Twenty months have passed. Christmas and New Year's day have twice been + celebrated and another Easter Sunday has found its way into the faithful + journal of Peter Snipe, and with them two amazing Fourths of July when + there was coasting on the long slopes and winter sports on the plains. + There has been one bountiful harvest and seed has been sown for yet + another. The full length of the sunny plain is under cultivation. The bins + in the granaries are well-filled with the treasures of the soil; the + gardens have increased and flourished; the warehouse is stacked with fresh + and dried fruits, vegetables, honey, and row upon row of preserves! Great + earthen jars, modeled with all the severity of the primitive cave-dweller, + serve as receptacles. The grist-mill on Leap Frog River is busy from dawn + till dusk; the forge rings with the music of hammer and anvil; a saw-mill + in the heart of Dismal Forest hums its whining tune all day long. A noisy, + determined engine, fashioned by mechanics out of material taken from the + engine and boiler room of the Doraine provides the motive power for the + saws and the means to produce ponderous, far-reaching blasts on the + transferred “fog-horn.” + </p> + <p> + New and more commodious huts have gone up, roads have been blazed through + the forests, a logging ferry plies between the opposite shores of Mott + Haven, and a ship is on the ways above the landing “stage.” + </p> + <p> + At the top of Split Mountain stands a lofty wireless tower. For months it + has been spitting vain messages to the four winds. Out of the great + silences at rare intervals come faint flickers of radio calls, jumbled, + indistinct, undecipherable,—but, for all that, definite pulse beats + of a far-off life. + </p> + <p> + Trigger Island went mad with joy when the first of these aerial mutterings + was reported down from the mountain-top. “Only a question of time now,” + they cried in their delirium. But weeks went by before another sound was + heard. Now the report of feeble, long-separated manifestations, like vague + spirit-rappings, no longer caused excitement or enthusiasm,—only a + rueful shaking of heads. + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Platt's station at the top of the mountain is a rude, + elementary affair, notwithstanding the many weary, puzzling, disheartening + months spent in its construction. The damaged, almost useless dynamo from + the Doraine had to be repaired and conveyed to the crest of the eminence; + what seemed to be fruitless ages were consumed in devising an engine with + power sufficient to produce even the feeble results that followed. And + when the task of installing the plant was completed, the effective radius + was far short of a hundred miles. Constant efforts were being made to + develop greater sending power, but the means at hand were inadequate, the + material unobtainable. + </p> + <p> + The firing of the Doraine's gun had long since been discontinued. The + supply of shells being greatly reduced, Lieutenant Platt decided to waste + no more of them, but to wait for some visible evidence that a vessel was + within signalling distance: a shadowy plume of smoke on the far horizon or + the white tip of a sail peeping over the rim of the world. + </p> + <p> + Frugality is the watchword. The days of plenty are sternly guarded so that + their substance may not be squandered; always there is the thought of the + lean year that may come, the year when the harvests fail and famine stalks + naked through the land. + </p> + <p> + The first law, therefore, is thrift. Not thrift in its common, accepted + sense, based on the self-denial of the individual, but a systematic + shoulder-to-shoulder stand for the general welfare of the community. There + is no such thing as waste on Trigger Island. The grim spectre of want and + privation treads softly behind every mortal there, and there is none who + treats its invisible presence with disdain. Even the wood-ashes from + stoves and fireplaces are carefully hoarded in hoppers, for the alkaline + solution obtained by treating them with water is lye. This lye is being + used chiefly in the production of a soap not unlike that made by thrifty + farmers' wives in the Argentine, experimentation with the pulpy fruit of a + tree belonging to the variety known as Sapindus marginatus bringing about + rather astonishing results. + </p> + <p> + For many months of the year the people wear sandals on their bare feet. + Only those who toil in the forests don the uncouth boots turned out by the + firm of cobblers known as Block & Nicklestick. Shoes, boots and + slippers of another day are zealously guarded by their owners, in + anticipation of still another day,—the day of deliverance. “Waste + not, want not,” is the motto of Trigger Island. + </p> + <p> + The second winter brought a double catastrophe, and for days thereafter + deepest gloom prevailed. Even the stout-hearted Percival drooped under the + weight of it. + </p> + <p> + Fire wiped out the work of months in the space of a few bleak, bitter + hours. The sturdy little ship that was so well along toward completion was + destroyed. + </p> + <p> + Months of faithful, patient, dogged toil had resulted in the construction + of a stout hull which stood proudly on the ways to be admired and + glorified by the eager, confident supporters of the determined little band + of builders. Six weeks more would have seen the vessel off the ways and + floating gaily on the surface of the snug little basin, ready for the + final touches, the provisioning and the ultimate departure of the hardy + company that was to take her out into the open stretches in quest of the + helping hand. For weeks a devoted, one-minded community had been preparing + food, raiment and comforts for the men who were to go forth in the new + Doraine. The masts and spars were in place, the forecastle and cabin were + almost ready for occupancy, the galley was nearing completion,—and + then came swift, relentless disaster. + </p> + <p> + The night was cold and windy. Down at the water's edge, almost under the + bulging side of the ship, two men had their quarters at one end of the + low, rambling carpenter shop. At the other end was located the forge. The + very thing they were there to guard against happened on this miserable + night. Fire broke out in the forge. + </p> + <p> + The man on watch had fallen asleep. His name was Smiley. It is mentioned + here for the only time in this narrative. + </p> + <p> + Shortly before midnight, his companion was awakened by the smell of smoke. + He scrambled out of his blankets on the floor,—and cursed the man + who still slept in his chair beside the smoke-befogged lantern on the end + of a carpenter's bench. Flames were creeping along the wooden partition + separating the forge from the shop. Half a mile away three hundred men + were sleeping,—but half a mile is half a mile. Before the watchmen + could sound the alarm, after their first courageous efforts to subdue the + blaze, the building was a roaring mass of flames and a gleeful wind had + carried tongues of fire to the side of the vessel where they licked + shapeless black patterns at first and then swiftly turned them to red. + </p> + <p> + Stark-eyed, shivering people stood far back among the trees throughout the + rest of the night and watched the work of months go up in flame and smoke. + Nothing could be done to save the ship. Hewn from the hardiest trees in + the forest, caulked and fortified to defy the most violent assaults of + water, she was like paper in the clutch of flames. In the grey of early + morn the stricken people slunk back to their cabins and gave up hope. For + not only was their ship destroyed but the priceless tools and implements + with which she had been built were gone as well. It was the double + catastrophe that took the life, the spirit, out of them. + </p> + <p> + And while the day was still breaking, the man who had slept at his post, + stole off into the forest and cut his throat from ear to ear. + </p> + <p> + But now, months afterward, another ship is on the ways. Indomitable, + undaunted, the builders rose above disaster and set to work again. New + tools were fashioned from steel and iron and wood,—saws, chisels, + sledges, planes and hammers—in fact, everything except the baffling + augurs. Resolute, unbeaten hands toiled anew, and this time the humble + craft was not to be given a luckless name. + </p> + <p> + Superstition was rife. All save Andrew Mott saw ill-omen in the name + “Doraine.” Steadfastly he maintained that as the Doraine had brought them + safely to the island, guided by a divine Providence, a Doraine could be + trusted to take them as miraculously away. And as for changing the name of + his prattling ward, he fairly roared his objection; though an uncommonly + mild man for a sailor, he uttered such blasphemous things to a group of + well-meaning women that even Sheriff Soapy Shay was aghast. + </p> + <p> + After the dreary period that followed the disaster, there came a sharp + awakening as from a dream filled with horrors. Something lying dormant in + the com-mon breast had stirred. It was the unbeaten spirit that would not + die. These men and women lifted up their heads and beheld the star of hope + undimmed. In a flash, the aspect changed. + </p> + <p> + “We must start all over again,” was the cry that awoke them, and from that + time on there was no such word as fail in the lexicon of Trigger Island. + </p> + <p> + Slowly, laboriously out of the ashes rose a new hull, a stauncher one than + its ill-fated predecessor. The year wasted in the building of the first + ship was lamented but not mourned. Cheerfulness, even optimism, prevailed + throughout the village. No man, no woman lifted the voice of complaint. + Resignation took the form of stoicism. A sort of dogged taciturnity was + measurably relieved by the never-failing spirit of camaraderie. There was + even a touch of bravado in the attitude of these people toward each other,—as + of courage kept up by scoffing. Even Death, on his sombre visits, was + regarded with a strange derision by those who continued to spin. They had + cheated him not once but many times, and they mocked him in their souls. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not afraid of Death,” was Buck Chizler's contribution. “I've just + discovered that Death is the rottenest coward in the world. He either + waits till you get too blamed old to fight, or else he jumps on you when + you ain't looking, or when you're so weak from sickness you don't care + what happens. I used to be afraid of Death. And why? Because I wasn't onto + the old bum; Why, look at what he does. He jumps onto weeny little babies + and feeble old women and—and horses. Now, I'm onto him, and I ain't + got any use for a cheap sport,—not me.” + </p> + <p> + The little community had taken to religion. As is invariably the case, + adversity seeks surcease in some form of piety. Men who had not entered a + church since the days of their childhood, men who had scoffed at the + sentimentality of religion, now found consolation in the thing they had + once despised. They were abashed and bewildered at first, as one after + another they fell into the habit of attending services. They were + surprised to find something that they needed, something that made life + simpler and gentler for them, something uplifting. + </p> + <p> + “We're a queer mess of Puritans,” reflected Randolph Fitts. “You know that + parrot of old Bob Carr's? Well, he took it out and wrung its neck last + night,—after all the time, and trouble, and patience he spent in + giving her a swell private education. There never was a bird that could + swear so copiously as that bird of Bob's. He taught her every thing she + knew. He worked day and night to provide her with an up-to-date + vocabulary. He used to lie awake nights thinking up new words for old + Polly to conquer. Now he says the blamed old rip was deceiving him all the + time. She began springing expletives on him that he'd never heard of + before in all his forty years before the mast. She first began using them + a couple of months ago when he undertook to reform her. He started in to + teach her to say 'good gracious' and 'goodness me' and 'hoity-toity' and + all such stuff, and she cursed so loud and so long that he had to throw a + bucket of water on her. + </p> + <p> + “Every time he came home from church, that redheaded harridan would open + up on him with such a string of vituperation that he had to hold his ears + so's not to forget himself and backslide. Well, it got so that Bob + couldn't live with her any longer. She simply wouldn't puritanize. The + nearest he ever got her to saying 'good' was when she said it with only + one 'o,' and then as prefix to 'dammit.' So he decided the only way to + reform her was to murder her. She managed to nip a piece out of his hand + while he was doing it, however, and he's had the hump all day because he + fell from grace and said something he'd oughtn't to. Yes, sir; we're a + queer mess of Puritans. Look at us. Catholics, Presbyterians, Baptists, + Methodists, Jews, infidels, Theosophists,—even Christian Scientists,—all + rolled up into one big bundle labeled: 'Handle with Prayer.' We know + nearly all the Ten Commandments by heart, and the Beatitudes flow from us + in torrents. My wife was saying only the other night that if Sheriff Shay + didn't arrest that bird for using profane language, she'd start a petition + to have—Hello, Soapy! I didn't know you were present.” + </p> + <p> + “What was she going to do?” demanded the Sheriff of Trigger Island. + </p> + <p> + “There's no use telling you now. It's too late. Polly has gone to a place + I don't dare mention, so what's the use talking about it?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't go 'round pinchin' fallen parrots,” growled Soapy. “Besides, I'm + the feller that learned her most of the cuss-words old Bob never heard + before. I never saw a bird that was so anxious to improve. She used to set + there with her ear cocked, just simply crazy to learn something new. Every + time she'd see me coming she'd begin to hop up and down on her perch and + call me names, figurin' I'd lose my temper and give her a tongue lashin'. + Gosh, I'm glad she's dead. It was gettin' to be an awful nuisance chasing + parrots out of the trees back of Bob's house. They got so's they'd come + down there and set around all day pickin' up things she said. Somebody + told me the other day he heard a parrot 'way up in the woods swearin' like + a sailor. He fired a club at it, and what do you think it said to him?” + </p> + <p> + “If you weren't such an ungodly liar, Soapy, I'd ask you,” said Chief + Justice Malone. + </p> + <p> + Soapy regarded him sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “If you keep on sayin' things like that, Judge, I'll have to tell your + wife you ain't true to her,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “And that would be the most prodigious lie you ever told,” exclaimed Mr. + Malone. + </p> + <p> + “Sure. You and me know it's a lie, but you'd ketch hell, just the same.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + The population of Trigger Island has increased. Following the example of + Buck Chizler and the Governor himself, scores of dubious lovers took + heart. They succeeded in dispelling certain misgivings—and doubts + lurking in the hearts,—not to say consciences,—of + approximately three-fourths of the unmarried women on the island, with the + result that Father Francisco and Parson Mackenzie were kept exceedingly + busy for a number of weeks. + </p> + <p> + The “state,” guided by the newly elected Chief Justice, extracted vows + even more severe than those incorporated in the marriage service. And yet, + despite the emphatic declarations of certain candidates,—principally + male,—there remained in the minds of all,—including brides,—a + lingering doubt. On the other hand, several ardent and undoubtedly honest + gentlemen were unable to marry the objects of their affection for the + simple reason that too many people were able to recall the lamentations of + the ladies themselves, in the early days when it was customary to suffer + because of the suspense and agony their poor husbands were enduring at + home. + </p> + <p> + The case of Joe Hooker and Matilda Larson was particularly distressing, + and ultimately led to the passage of a rather drastic law by the Council. + Judge Malone was the father of this law. It provided for the automatic + annulment of all previous marriages at the expiration of two years,—provided, + however, the absent husband or wife didn't turn up to contest the matter. + This law also granted absolute freedom to the absent husband or wife, who + was thereby authorized to remarry without further notice,—or words + to that effect. It was, declared Randolph Fitts, a perfectly just and + equable law, and would no doubt ease the minds of quite a number of people + in far-off lands,—if they ever heard of it. + </p> + <p> + Joe and Matilda had been married nearly two months when, in the thick of a + connubial row, he demanded her passport. He even went so far as to + threaten her with his if she didn't produce it at once. Matilda's temper + was no milder than Joe's. She not only dug up her passport but a marriage + certificate as well, while all he could show was a passport. It was a very + unfortunate contretemps, in view of the fact that they shortly afterwards + kissed and “made up.” It so happened that there were quite a number of + witnesses to the flaunting of these damaging documents, and as Trigger + Island was then in the first stages of a religious upheaval, it was + impossible to overlook this definite instance of iniquity. Despite the + recantations of the chagrined couple,—and, it must be added, the + surreptitious disappearance of the incriminating papers,—the matter + was brought before the tribunal of justice. Chief Justice Malone was equal + to the emergency. Indeed, he had been expecting something of the sort, and + was prepared. He ordered both of the interested parties to bring suit for + divorce from their legal spouses, one for “failure to provide,” the other + for “desertion,” and promptly granted decrees, service by publication + having been obtained through the medium of the Trigger Island Pioneer, + printed monthly by Peter Snipe, editor and publisher, limited to an + edition of one, owing to the scarcity of paper, and posted conspicuously + for all subscribers on the bulletin board in front of the “government + building.” Additional spice was lent to the affair by the surprising + reluctance of Joe and Matilda to re-enter the paradise from which they had + been ejected. Apparently they had had enough of each other. Moreover, they + had both “got religion” and insisted on repenting at leisure, separately + and alone. But people took a very decided stand in the matter. They could + repent in any manner they liked after Matilda's baby was born, but not + before. And so they were married once more, and, strange to relate, lived + happily and contentedly thereafter. + </p> + <p> + Now, while all this may strike the reader as footless and trivial, it + really has a distinct place in the chronicles of Trigger Island. If, + perforce, the writer has succeeded in treating the situation facetiously, + it should not be assumed that the people of Trigger Island had any desire + or inclination to be funny about it. On the contrary, they took it very + seriously, and quite naturally so, if one stops to consider the narrow + confines by which their very existence was bounded. There were no such + things as “trifles” in the daily life of Trigger Island. The smallest + incident took on the importance of an event, the slightest departure from + the ordinary at once became significant. In other circumstances, these + people would have been vastly amused by the quixotic settlement of the + affairs of Joe and Matilda; they would have grinned over the extraordinary + decree of Justice Malone, and they would have taken it all with an + indulgent wink. As a matter of fact, they were stern-faced and intense. + They had made laws of their own, they had established a code. The + violation of either was not to be countenanced. It was of no consequence + to them that Judge Malone's methods were without precedent, that they were + not even a travesty in the true light of the law. + </p> + <p> + No one was more soberly in earnest than Michael Malone himself. The + proceedings were carried out with the utmost dignity and formality. There + were no smiles, no jocose comments. + </p> + <p> + Nothing will serve more clearly to illustrate the sense of isolation to + which the people of Trigger Island had resigned themselves than the fact + that they accepted the Judge's decision and the subsequent marriage as + absolutely unassailable, either from a legal or an ethical point of view. + </p> + <p> + The town itself was flourishing. Traffic and commerce were carried on in + the most systematic, organized manner. Everybody was busy. The utter + impossibility for one man or set of men to profit at the expense of others + naturally put a curb upon ambitions, but it did not subdue the spirit of + enterprise. + </p> + <p> + There is a baby in the Governor's Mansion,—a lusty boy with blue + eyes and an engaging smile. He is four months old, and his name is already + a household word on Trigger Island. It is not Algernon, nor is it Adonis. + It is John;—John Clinton Percival. + </p> + <p> + The Governor's Mansion is a pretentious structure. It has four rooms and a + bath! A wide porch extends along the full front of the house, with a + steeply pitched awning protecting it from the rain and sun. At one end of + the porch is a very cosy arrangement of hand-wrought chairs and a + commodious swinging seat. The other end, just off the parental + bed-chamber, has been converted into an out-door sleeping-room for John C. + Percival. The Governor's lady has no nursemaid. She does her own + housework, her own washing and ironing, and she takes care of her own + baby. (There is no such thing on Trigger Island as a servant. More than + one woman who reads this tale will sigh and murmur something about + Paradise.) Ruth still teaches in the little school. Though she is the + first lady of the land, she supports herself, she earns her daily bread. + It is the law irrevocable. There are no distinctions. Nor would she have + it otherwise. + </p> + <p> + The “Mansion,” as it was universally called, stands alone at the upper end + of the Green, facing the meeting-house. The nearest hut is at least two + hundred yards away. Work on its construction was begun the day after the + wedding. For weeks men had toiled eagerly, enthusiastically, voluntarily, + and in the first gay days of spring it was completed. Since then, the same + hands, the same thoughts, the same interests were constantly employed in + improvements,—not only to the house itself but to the grounds about + it. The Governor's “Mansion” became the plaything of the people. + Percival's protests were received with amiable grins. + </p> + <p> + “It's our house, boss,—not yours,” explained Buck Chizler, whose + spare time was largely expended in the development,—you might almost + say, the financing,—of a flower-bed on the lawn. It was to be the + finest flower-bed of them all, he swore. “This is government property and + we, the people, are going to do what we please with it.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all very fine, Buck, but don't you think you ought to be spending + your spare hours with your wife, instead of puttering around here?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who the boss of this job is? My wife. I'm nothing but an + ordinary day-laborer, a plain Mick, a sort of a Wop, obeying orders. Good + gosh, you don't think I've got brains enough to design this flower-bed, do + you? No, sirree! It takes an artist to think up a design like this. When I + get all these rocks in place according to plans you'll see what I mean. + It'll be a hum-dinger, A. A. This here thing running off this way is the + tail. Come over here and look at it from this side,—it's upside down + from where you're standin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Tail? Tail of what?” + </p> + <p> + “Tail of a horse. This is going to be a horse when it's finished.” + </p> + <p> + “My God!” + </p> + <p> + Buck was not above being irritated by the dismay in Percival's voice. + </p> + <p> + “Minnie's got her heart set on it, A. A.,” he explained. “It's going to be + a sorrel horse, you see,—with a blue tail and a red head. Mustard, + hollyhocks and geraniums is what she's going to plant here when I get the + bed fixed. Socrates,—he was the best horse I ever straddled,—he + was a sorrel. I took him down the—” + </p> + <p> + “As far as you've got, Buck, it looks more like a dachshund than a horse,” + observed Percival. + </p> + <p> + Buck eyed his work deprecatingly. “That's because there ain't space + enough. I had to either saw his legs off or else have him layin' down. + Minnie had him kneelin' in her first sketch, but gosh, it was the funniest + thing you ever saw. It ain't possible for a horse to kneel with his hind + legs, but she had him doin' it all right,—kneeling forward, at that, + with his tail stickin' straight up so's it wouldn't be in the way of his + heels. It's all Jack Wales's fault. He simply would put that blamed + sun-dial of his right in the middle of this plot,—and these doggoned + gravel-walks running every which way give me the blind-staggers. Why, A. + A., you got more gravel walks here than they've got in Central Park. And + all these scrubby hedges, stone walls, fountains, flower-beds, cedar + freaks,—my God, Perce, I'd hate to come home a little squiffed if I + lived in that house of yours, 'specially at night. Look at old Pedro and + Philippa over there, setting out that stuff that looks like sparrowgrass. + And that prize job of Ed Keller's,—my God, A. A., what good is a dog + kennel on this island? There ain't a dog inside a thousand miles. The only + one we ever had was that poodle old Mrs. Velasco had, and it died before—” + </p> + <p> + “That isn't a kennel, Buck.” + </p> + <p> + “It ain't? Well, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a Swiss chalet.” + </p> + <p> + “What does Ed Keller know about Swiss chalets?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,—absolutely nothing, Buck,” admitted Percival forcibly. + </p> + <p> + A tall, perfectly straight flagpole graced the extensive “front-yard,” and + from its peak floated the flag of Trigger Island,—a great white + pennon with a red heart in the centre, symbolic of love, courage, + fidelity. But on the tip of Split Mountain the Stars and Stripes still + waves from sunrise to sunset. + </p> + <p> + The new cabins are farther up the slope of the mountains, overlooking what + is now called the “old” town. There is something fairy-like in the picture + one sees at night from the Green below. Dozens of lighted windows gleam + softly through the foliage, for all the world like witches' lamps. The day + reveals thin, blue plumes of smoke stealing out of the tops of the trees + to be wafted off into nothingness; they come from invisible chimneys far + down in the leafy fastnesses. Up here are the huts of the newly married. + Almost without exception, they are tiny affairs, scarcely larger than the + metaphorical bandbox. Each contains two rooms. + </p> + <p> + During the very hot weather in January and February, the long, curving + beach is alive with oddly dressed bathers and idlers. This is at midday + only, when the sun is so hot and fierce that all work ceases for two hours + or more. Though the sun is hot, the water is never warm. A dip in the surf + is all that any one save the hardiest cares to take. They loll on the cool + white sands, under improvised shelters made of boughs, or indulge in + spirited games on the long level stretches. This is the play-hour of the + people throughout the hot months of summer. They “knock off” work of all + sorts, and seek relief from the stifling heat of the woodland in the cool + wet sands along the shore. + </p> + <p> + The costumes are strange and varied; some are pretty, others almost + ludicrous. Small children appear in a scant breech-cloth; women of all + ages and proportions wear a sort of one-piece “jumper,” arms bare and legs + uncovered up to the knees. The men affect nothing except trunks made from + coffee sacks. The few real bathing-suits belong to such experienced + travellers as Nicklestick, Shine and the Blocks,—regular and + persistent patrons of the hotels at Atlantic City, Palm Beach and + Rockaway. They never travel without a full and complete equipment. Mr. + Nicklestick, very superior in his red two piece “costume,” goes so far as + to contend that a man never should be without a bathing-suit, because, + says he, “it takes up no room in your trunk, and if you leave it at home + some one else is sure to stretch it so's you can't use it yourself again.” + </p> + <p> + Olga Obosky and her three dancing-girls, Careni-Amori, and several of the + Brazilian ladies possess Ostend costumes in which they disport themselves + with complacent disregard for public opinion, favourable or otherwise. + </p> + <p> + “She's got 'em all skinned a mile,” was Morris Shine's comment upon Olga's + lithe, graceful figure. “Ain't that so, Abey?” + </p> + <p> + The remark was addressed to Abel Landover. + </p> + <p> + “Even so,” returned that gentleman, glaring at the offender, “it doesn't + give you the right to call me Abey. You've got to cut it out, Shine. + Understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” said the affable Morris. “Only I've got a brother named Abraham, + and that was my father's name too. It comes natural to me to—Why, by + gracious, she's got the Venus Belvedere lashed to the mast. Did you ever + see—” + </p> + <p> + “I've never had the pleasure of seeing the Venus Belvedere,” interrupted + Landover coldly. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't?” exclaimed Morris, amazed. “The armless wonder? You ain't + seen her? Why, she's supposed to have the most perfect figger in the + world. Maybe you've seen her without knowing what her name is. They never + put the name on it, simply because every school boy and girl is supposed + to know who it is without being told. Funny you don't know—Oh, she + ain't alive, you know,—she ain't real. She's a statue,—thousands + of 'em turned out every year. Gee, the feller that designed that statue + must have cleaned up a pile. But, as I was saying, our little old Olga has + got her—Say, did you ever see a figger like that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” broke in Landover shortly, “thousands of them.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Shine looked sceptical. “Well,” he said after a moment's reflection, + and with studied politeness,—having already offended at the outset, + “all I got to say is, you talk like a woman, that's all I got to say.” + </p> + <p> + Landover was a greatly changed man in these days. There had come a crisis + in the affairs of Trigger Island, not many weeks before the second annual + election in April, when he was obliged to show his true colours. The + banker suddenly realized with a shock that he was actually involved in a + well-organized, though secret plot to overthrow the so-called + “government.” He had been completely deceived by the wily Manuel Crust and + several of his equally wily friends. They professed to be organizing an + opposition party to oust the dictatorial Percival and his clique from + office at the ensuing election,—a feat, they admitted, that could be + accomplished only by the most adroit and covert “educational” campaign, + “under the rose” perforce, but justifiable in the circumstances. They had + led Landover to believe that he was their choice for governor. They went + among the people, insidiously sowing the seeds of discontent, hinting at + the advantages to be obtained by the election of an entirely new set of + officers, mostly from among the people themselves, but headed by the + ablest man on the island,—Abel T. Landover. They argued that as + treasurer and comptroller of currency he had shown himself to be the only + man qualified to direct the affairs of the people. + </p> + <p> + And Landover believed them. Despite his superior intelligence and his + vaunted ability to size up his fellow man, he was as blind and + unsuspecting as a child when it came to penetrating the real motives of + the conspirators. Vain, self-important, possessed of an abnormal conceit, + men of his type go ahead ruthlessly, ignoring the details, bent only on + achieving the ultimate. In Landover's case, he made the fatal error of + underestimating the craftiness of Manuel Crust; he looked upon him as a + blatant, ignorant ruffian of the stripe best known to him as a “beer + saloon politician,”—and known only by hearsay, at that. He regarded + himself as the master-politician and Crust as a contemptible necessity. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, Crust was using him to very materially advance his + own ends. The big Portuguese had a very definite purpose in mind. He had + no more intention of making Landover the chief man of the island than he + had of flying to the moon. He,—Manuel Crust,—was to have that + distinction! He despised Landover and all that he represented. He hated + him because he was rich, educated, favoured by fortune,—and given to + washing himself with unnecessary frequency and thoroughness. Manuel was + foul of body as well as foul at heart. He bitterly resented the sanitary + rules set up and enforced by the Council because those rules interfered + with what he was pleased to call his personal liberty. Why should he be + required to wash himself if he didn't want to do so? And why should he do + a great many silly things that Dr. Cullen ordered, just because a lot of + aristocrats were in the habit of doing them? + </p> + <p> + His hatred of Landover, however, was impersonal. The banker merely + represented a class. On the other hand, he hated Percival as an + individual; he hated him with every drop of blood in his black, venomous + heart. He had a certain grudging regard,—it might even be called + respect,—for the class to which Landover belonged; he was sometimes + conscious of a strange but quite positive sense of his own inferiority. + But he did not for an instant put Percival in the class with Landover. He + looked upon the young American as being no better than himself, and yet + the people from the Doraine had showered honours upon him, had made him + their chief, had suffered him,—a vagabond without a penny to his + name,—to marry the fairest and rarest woman of them all. What right + had this interloper to everything that was worth having, while he, an + honest fellow who always had paid his way, was denied even the smallest + place in the councils of the land? What right had he, a tramp, to sit upon + a throne? + </p> + <p> + Landover was an unwitting, but thoroughly self-satisfied dupe. He fitted + in very nicely with Manuel's plan to gain control of the island. There + were certain people who regarded the great banker as an apostle, a man to + follow, to be imitated,—such men as Block, Nicklestick and a few + others. Was he not one of the great financial geniuses of the day? Was he + not a power, a tremendous power, in the banking world? Was he not a man + who understood how to transform a dollar into a business block almost + over-night? For a time, sentiment had played tricks with their boasted + astuteness. Swept along by the current, they had failed to appreciate the + true conditions. They began to realize that it had been a mistake to keep + such men as Percival in power; behind the hand they went about convincing + each other that it was high time to rectify the original error. These, in + addition to the ignorant, easily persuaded rabble from the steerage,—who, + by the way, could give ample testimony as to Percival's ability to + “bluff,”—provided Crust with a decidedly formidable following. The + steerage people had but to be reminded of the time when Percival tricked + them so successfully. + </p> + <p> + Crust contended that if the American could fool them once, he would do so + again,—in fact, he went so far as to say that he had been doing it + all the time. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing open and above board about the methods of Manuel Crust. + He proceeded about the business of fomenting dissatisfaction and strife + with an artfulness surprising in one of his type. At no time did he openly + denounce the “government.” He was very careful about that. A jesting word + here, a derisive smile there, a shrug of the shoulders,—and in good + time others less politic than himself began to do the talking. Others + began to complain of the high-handed, dictatorial manner in which Percival + and his friends ruled the community. + </p> + <p> + The secret, stealthy opposition grew apace; it assumed sinister + proportions,—all the more sinister because it was masked by every + outward sign of submission. Crust had won friends right and left among the + very people who would have killed him not so many months before but for + the very man he was planning to destroy. + </p> + <p> + Outwardly he had changed,—not subtly, it is true,—from a + sullen, threatening bully into a hearty, smiling, sympathetic comrade who + laid himself out to be obliging. Even Percival was puzzled, if not + deceived, by this surprising transformation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + It was Olga Obosky who discovered and exposed the plot. A young Spaniard + had fallen hopelessly, madly in love with her. He was a good-looking, + hard-eyed boy from the pampas,—a herder who was on his way to visit + his mother in from Rio. He was a “gun-slinger” bearing close relationship + to the type of cowboy that existed in the old days of the Far West but who + is now extinct save for pictorial perpetuation on the moving-picture + screens. + </p> + <p> + Down in his wild young heart smouldered a furious jealousy of Percival. + Crust played upon this jealousy to fine effect. He did not hesitate to + feed the flame with sly speculations, innuendos and even tales concerning + Percival and Olga. + </p> + <p> + One day the Spaniard, in the midst of his violent protestations and + pleadings, became reckless with promises to Olga. He swore that if she + would have him he would make her the first lady of the land in place of + the stupid American girl who now held the honour. Then, having loosed his + tongue, he poured out the whole of the ugly scheme which was to alter + every existing condition on the island. The wiping out of the dictator and + his swell-headed gang of “intellectuals”; the seizure of all firearms, + ammunition and stores; the complete subjugation of the people, even to the + point of slavery; the elevation of Manuel Crust and his followers to a + state of absolute power; the confiscation of all property,—including + women! He naively advised her to jump at the chance offered her,—the + chance to avoid the most unpleasant feature of the new regime. + </p> + <p> + “As my woman,” he said, “you will be safe. It is understood. It is all + arranged. If you belong to me, nothing can happen to you. We shall be of + the elect. I am to be of the council. I am to be one of the masters, the—” + </p> + <p> + “But,” she cried, scarcely able to believe her ears, “how is all this to + be accomplished? How will the few overcome the many? You say there are + scarcely more than a dozen of you, my friend. What can a dozen men do to—” + </p> + <p> + “It will be simple,” cried he, his eyes flaming. “How is it that Percival + and his little gang hold all of us in bondage? It is because they have the + guns, the revolvers, the bullets. Well, we shall have the guns, and + everything. When the time comes, when the people have voted in the + election and a new party is in control, then we will have our chance. We + will have the upper hand. To hell with the people, Olga. They will count + for nothing once we have charge of the guns and stores. This Percival he + has ordered the election. He insists that the people be given a chance to + vote once a year, to elect some one to take his place if they feel like + it. He says it is only fair. Faugh! He laughs in his sleeve. Come! Your + promise! I love you. I must have you for my woman. I cannot live without + you. I will give you power to spit in the face of that woman down there—that + American aristocrat! We will be rich, we will be happy, we will have + everything. Diamonds and pearls and rubies and all the gold there is on + this island. We will be the ones to go away in the ship, and we will have + jewels to shame the richest of them.” + </p> + <p> + “We—you and Manuel and the rest—are to go away in the ship?” + she cried, cold to the marrow of her bones. + </p> + <p> + “Sure. Why not? Are we not to be the owners of that ship? It is your + chance to go back to the world again,—with me! Oh, and I agree to + this also: If you do not want me any longer after you are in Rio or Buenos + Aires or anywhere out there,—if you would rather be free again,—I + promise to release you. What could be fairer than that? Nothing! I shall + kill myself, of course, when you leave me,—but still I promise, and + I never break a promise. But I shall love you so much that you will never + leave me. You are my queen. Hell, how I love you—how I love you!” + His face darkened, then slowly paled. He realized that he had gone too + far. Leaning close to her, his frightened eyes not a foot from hers, he + said: “You cannot deny me now. I have told you everything. I do not know + why I have told you. I must be crazy with love of you. Ah,—the look + in your beautiful eyes! God, how it takes the weight off my mind. You will + love me,—you will be mine,—I see it in your eyes. When? When?” + </p> + <p> + She affected a bantering smile. She knew how to play with such fools as + he. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I am a fool? How do I know you are not lying to me about all + this? It may be a trick to influence me. No, no! I am not such a + simpleton. You promise me diamonds, and gold, and much love. You promise + to take me away from this dreadful place on a ship, back to the world I + worship. But you may be lying. I must have something better than your + word, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am telling you the truth. I swear it!” he cried eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your hands off of me,—do you hear! Don't touch me! Not yet, + not yet. I must have some proof that you can give me all these things you + offer. Will you have Manuel Crust guarantee that—” + </p> + <p> + “My God,—Manuel,—he must not know I have spoken to you. He + must never know,” he gasped. “Take my word,—believe me, beloved one. + It is the God's truth I tell you. Within the month I will lay diamonds, + pearls,—everything,—at your feet. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Leave me now. Come again,—tomorrow. I must think. I must—” + </p> + <p> + “But you will love me? You will come to me? You—” + </p> + <p> + “You are a very handsome boy,” she said softly, “and I should like to + believe you.” + </p> + <p> + He followed her for a few steps, trouble in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is not enough. I must have your promise,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him coldly. “You will have it when I am ready to give it,” + she said, and his face lightened for a moment, only to darken again. + </p> + <p> + “I will cut your heart out if you breathe a word of this to any one,” he + whispered hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Is that the way for a lover to speak?” she returned. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said without hesitation. “It is the way,—with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Come to me tomorrow and tell me exactly what my share of the treasure is + to be,—and then I will let you know whether it is to be you—or + Manuel Crust, my friend. Oh, you see, I am greedy,—and I can love + Manuel quite as easily as I can love—” + </p> + <p> + “I will cut his heart out if you—” + </p> + <p> + “There—there! It will not be necessary. Come tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + That same afternoon she went to Percival with the Spaniard's story. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll nip that in the bud,” said he, setting his jaw. “The first + thing to do is to warn Landover.” + </p> + <p> + “Warn Landover!” cried the Russian. “He is all mix up in it,—he is + one of ze ringleaders.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he isn't. He's not that kind of a man. He doesn't know a thing about + all this, I'll stake my life on it.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Olga,” cried Ruth, white-faced and troubled; “Fernandez will kill + you. He will,—Good heaven, girl, did he not swear to cut your heart + out if you—” + </p> + <p> + “Poof!” cried the other, snapping her fingers. “He will not do zat, my + dear. I am not afraid. Do you know what happens to informers in my + country? They vanish. No one ever sees them again, and no one ever asks + where they have gone. They are here today—tomorrow they are not. It + is the same the world over.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean,—Manuel's men will make way with him? How horrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Do not waste your sympathy on zat Fernandez. He is no good. You would see + what kind of man he is if this plot should succeed.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will have to give him your answer tomorrow,” cried Ruth. + </p> + <p> + Olga shot a keen glance at Percival's face. + </p> + <p> + “It is for you to say, Percivail, what my answer shall be,” said she, + after, a slight pause. A queer pallor spread over her face. + </p> + <p> + “For me to say?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not the governor? If it suits your plans for me to give myself to + zat man—” + </p> + <p> + “My God, Olga! What the devil are you driving at?” + </p> + <p> + “—to satisfy him until you are prepared to nip zis revolution in the + bud, as you say,—I shall—” + </p> + <p> + “Thunderation!” he gasped. “You mean you would sacrifice yourself—Great + Scot! What do you think I'm expecting to do? Go to sleep for a month or + so? Bless your heart, my dear Olga, if you are even thinking of getting + married to Fernandez, you'll have to be pretty spry about it. Because I'm + going to nip the business in the bud before tomorrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Zat is what I thought,” said she, the colour rushing back to her face. + </p> + <p> + That evening Percival called a meeting of the “cabinet,”—as the + council was now called. They were asked to come to his home, instead of to + the meetinghouse. This, of itself, was surprising. Landover had never set + foot inside the “governor's mansion.” While his attitude toward the + “governor's lady” was studiedly courteous, he made no effort to resume the + intimate and friendly relationship that existed before her marriage to his + enemy. Contact with Percival was unavoidable. They met frequently in + “cabinet” conferences, but avoided each other at all other times. + </p> + <p> + He came to this hastily called meeting, however, and Percival was the only + man present who was not dumbfounded. Sheriff Shay, in summoning the + members to this secret meeting, had delivered a message that Landover + could not well afford to ignore. + </p> + <p> + Seventeen men were crowded into the little sitting-room of the house. Each + one of them bore a high-sounding title. There were present, besides + Percival, State Treasurer Landover, Chief Justice Malone, Minister of War + Platt, Minister of Marine Mott, Minister of Agriculture Pedro Drom, State + Clerk Flattner, Surgeon General Cullen, Lord High Sheriff Shay, and the + following members of the Executive Council: Snipe, Block, Jones, Fitts, + Knapendyke, Calkins, Ruiz' and Alvara. Ruiz was a Chilean merchant and + Alvara a Brazilian coffee grower. Calkins was an English cattle buyer. + </p> + <p> + Percival, with his customary abruptness, announced that there was a plot + on foot to destroy the present government and turn the island over to the + mercy of a gang of desperadoes headed by Manuel Crust. + </p> + <p> + Landover was on his feet in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “I am in a position, gentlemen, to declare that there is not a word of + truth in that statement. It is true there is a very definite movement on + foot to organize a new party to contest the election of many of us who are + gathered here tonight. The people want a change. They are dissatisfied. + They have a right to vote as they please, to choose their own—” + </p> + <p> + “We are not here to discuss the election, Mr. Landover,” broke in + Percival. “Before we go any farther, however, I wish to state that if you + are chosen Governor of Trigger Island, you will find no one more willing + and ready to serve you than I. But, that is beside the question. If you + will listen to me, I will tell you exactly what it is that confronts us. + The election next month is to be the signal for all kinds of hell. You may + be elected governor, Mr. Landover,—but you will not be allowed to + serve. Now, here is the story that came to me today,—and I can vouch + for it. I am authorized,—in fact I am commanded to reveal to you the + name of my informant. You may be sure I did my best to prevail upon her to + remain unknown, for the present, at least, but she threatened to go forth + and shout her story from the housetops if I did not do as she wished.” + </p> + <p> + The conference ended an hour later, and Abel Landover had shown his true + colours at last. He stood up, his face drawn and haggard, his eyes ablaze, + his voice husky, and addressed the group. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, I have been wrong. I am grateful to Mr. Percival for his + generosity in warning me of the danger into which I was rushing. We have + not been friends. He could have left me to my fate. I would not have + blamed him. He has played fair,—and I have not. I ask you all to + bear witness to that humiliating admission. I have argued here tonight + against all of you,—when down in my heart I had the sickening fear + that this damnable story is true. I now believe it to be true. I now see + through the whole devilish game. + </p> + <p> + “I give you my word of honour as a gentleman and an American, I did not + realize the true conditions until tonight. Perhaps I might have found out + in time to upset their plans,—but that is doubtful. These men are + smart. They are natural born plotters. They are dark men with dark souls. + This fellow Fernandez has fooled me completely. He is a gay, smiling boy, + but now that I have heard Madame Obosky's account of him, I recall many + little traits in his make-up that go far to substantiate my new opinion of + him. I never quite understood till now why he hated you, Percival. + Frankly, I knew that he had it in his heart to kill you. Crust has told me + of his difficulty in keeping him from running a knife into you. I thought + it was all talk, boyish bravado,—but now I know he meant it.” + </p> + <p> + He lifted his head and set his jaw. “Gentlemen, I have a shameful + confession to make. Ever since I can remember, my sole thought has been to + rule. I did not know what it was to take orders from another man until I + came to this island. My whole being has been in revolt. The thought + uppermost in my mind for two years has been to re-establish myself as a + dominating force. To that end, I have played pretty bad politics. I have + worked upon the credulity and cupidity of these men, promising them + positions of authority if I were chosen by vote to govern the affairs of + this island. But, I am sure you all will believe me when I say that it was + my purpose to administer those affairs honestly, fairly and as capably as + I knew how. I was not only deceived by these men, but by myself as well. I + have played, like a blundering fool, into their hands. My chagrin is + beyond words. I can only say to you now that you may count upon my + unfailing support in any action you may decide to take. My forebears were + honest, loyal, law-abiding Americans. I—I think I may say without + fear of contradiction that it is impossible for me to run otherwise than + true to form. + </p> + <p> + “I lied, Percival, to Ruth Clinton about the encounter in my stateroom on + the Doraine. Believe me or not as you see fit, but I think that was the + only deliberate lie I have ever told in my life. I have done a great many + high-handed things, I have been inconsiderate of others, I have crushed + opposition in my own way, I have never allowed myself to acknowledge + defeat. My hand has been against you since the day you appeared on the + decks of the Doraine. It was not in my nature to see good in you. To me, + you were a good-for-nothing—Well, I'm glad to see you smile! That is + the devil with you,—your confounded smile. I ask you to overlook + what I have said, and done—and been, Percival,—and shake + hands. You have nothing to apologize for. There never has been a time in + all these months that I have not felt you to be a real man, an honest one, + and a gentleman. I think I know an honest man when I see one,—indeed, + it is my business to read men,—and I rarely make a mistake.” + </p> + <p> + As the two men shook hands, Randolph Fitts remarked drily: + </p> + <p> + “Seems to me I remember your saying something of the sort the first day + you ever laid eyes on A. A., Abel.” + </p> + <p> + “The trouble is,” put in Soapy Shay sarcastically, “you don't know a + dishonest one when you see him, Bill.” + </p> + <p> + “Veil, let's get down to business,” said Moses Block nervously. “Ve must + go slow and careful-like. If we show our hands too soon, they will uprise + and—veil, I don't know vat!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mott, what would you do if you got wind of a plot like this aboard + ship?” inquired Percival, his eyes narrowing. + </p> + <p> + “I would have the whole gang in chains before morning. Then I'd give 'em a + taste of the 'cat' at daybreak, and before noon I'd have the ringleaders + hanging from a yard-arm,” said Andrew Mott, succinctly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my gracious!” gulped Mr. Block. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I'll tell you what would happen up in Copperhead Camp,” said + Percival, darkly. “They would get a beautiful cow-hiding and then + sentenced to wear a ball and chain, day and night, for anywhere from six + months to two years,—depending largely on the process of + regeneration. My experience has been that six months is enough.” + </p> + <p> + “We wouldn't dare do that, A. A.,” said Fitts. “You must not forget public + sentiment,—and public pity. I've got a better plan. How far out is + that little island off New Gibraltar, Platt?” + </p> + <p> + “A quarter of a mile, I should say.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if they're not satisfied with life and conditions here, let's make + 'em a present of a nice little island of their own. That's what I've + always advocated as the proper way to treat anarchists. Stick 'em away on + an island completely surrounded by sharks and let 'em run it to suit + themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “But there are no sharks in these waters,” said Flattner. “They'd swim + over here some night and slit all our throats.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a chance. They hate water too much to have ever learned how to swim. + Now, here's the scheme. Round up as many of them as we're dead sure about, + row 'em out to the island, dump 'em with enough food and water to last a + week, supply them with tents and beds and tools, and let 'em build their + own penitentiary. They'll have to do it or freeze next winter. Once a week + send food and drink out to them. The water is a hundred fathoms deep + between Trigger Island and that little green wart out there on the face of + the ocean. It will look like a million miles to them. How does it strike + you, gentlemen?” + </p> + <p> + Off the precipitous western extremity of Trigger Island lies a tiny scrap + of tree-covered land. It is perhaps one hundred yards wide and thrice as + long. An exploring party had visited it shortly after the wreck of the + Doraine, but since then no one had set foot upon its shores. Its steep + slopes, densely wooded, viewed from afar, suggested a mountain top + sticking up out of the sea. By boat, skirting the coast, it was a good ten + miles distant from the town. + </p> + <p> + Three men were seized that night and put through a rigid examination. + Early the next morning twelve more were taken, Manuel Crust among them. + Half of them, in their terror, “squealed.” Crust himself was one of these. + Almost before the people of the town knew what was afoot, the fifteen had + been tried, convicted, and were on their way to the landing where boats + were waiting to take them and their belongings off into exile. As for the + conspirators themselves, the blow was so swift, so sudden, that they were + dazed. It was like a bolt out of a clear sky. + </p> + <p> + Judge Malone sent them to “the Island” for indeterminate periods. At + stated intervals they were to be released, one by one, and restored to + citizenship. The shortest term of exile, however, was one year. The + releases were to be decided by lot, except in the case of three men: + Crust, Fernandez and an Irish sailor named Clark. They were the + ringleaders and they were to remain on “the Island” until the time came + for them to go aboard the relief ship with all the other citizens of + Trigger. At the end of the first year, and once a month thereafter for + twelve months, drawings were to be held, and the man whose name was drawn + would be released. + </p> + <p> + “You are prisoners of state,” said Judge Malone, in passing sentence. “The + state is obliged to feed you, and clothe you, and sustain you if you fall + ill, no matter how bitterly it goes against the grain. You will not be + obliged to work, or wash, or observe a single law. You may rob each other + to your hearts' content, you may murder each other with perfect impunity, + you may do just as you like. We started out to conduct the affairs of this + island along lines laid down by the Golden Rule. I have come to the + conclusion that the Golden Rule would be all right if it were not for the + human race. I am beginning to believe that the Rule of Iron is the only + one for the people of this earth to live under,—and that is a pretty + hard thing for an Irishman to say. You men ought to be lined up against a + wall and shot. We do not feel that we have the right to take your lives. + It is not in our hearts to destroy you, as you would have destroyed us. + But you may not dwell among us.” + </p> + <p> + Fernandez, wild with fury, shrieked vengeance upon the head of Olga + Obosky. Out of his ravings, the unsavoury crew gleaned enough to convince + them that he was responsible for their present unhappy plight. + </p> + <p> + “You will pay for this, you snake!” he yelled, foaming at the mouth and + shaking his fist at her. “I will drink your heart's blood! Remember what + Joe Fernandez says. I will come back here and get you,—Oh, I will + get you,—and when I am through with you your dog of a lover may have + what is left. I will cut you to pieces! I swear it—I swear it! Hear + my oath! You double-crossed me! You squealed on me! I will come back, and + I will drink your heart's blood! I swear it!” + </p> + <p> + He spat in her direction as he was dragged away with the rest of the gang. + Through his glittering, bloodshot eyes he saw the cool, derisive sneer on + her red lips. He had failed, however, to note the keen, appraising look + with which she searched the faces of his baffled, glowering companions. In + that long, tense look she had seen dawning comprehension change to + conviction; she had read his doom, so she could, in perfect security, give + him that scoffing, heartless smile to take with him on the journey from + which he was never to return. + </p> + <p> + Fifteen men went out to “the Island” that afternoon. From that day, the + authorities provided weekly rations for that number of men. To this day + they are ignorant of the fact that there are but fourteen mouths to feed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + In the cool of a balmy January evening, following what had been the + hottest day the castaways had experienced since coming to Trigger Island, + a group of men and women sat upon the Governor's porch. There was no moon, + but the sky was speckled with millions of stars. + </p> + <p> + Olga Obosky, sitting on the squared log that served as a step, leaned back + against the awning post, her legs stretched out in luxurious abandon. She + was fanning herself, and her breath came rapidly, pantingly. Now and then + she patted her moist face with a handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “How warm you are, Olga,” said Ruth, who sat beside her. “And you must be + dreadfully tired.” + </p> + <p> + “I am hot, but I am not tired,” replied the other. “I could dance all + night, my dear, without tiring. Did you really like the children, Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “They were lovely. You have done wonders with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Regular Isadora Duncan stuff,” sighed Peter Snipe, drawing lazily at his + pipe. “Woodland nymphs, phantom pixies floating on the wind, zephyrs in + the guise of fairies, dreams come true,—my dear Olga, you are a + sorceress. You change clods into moonbeams, you turn human beings into + vapours, you cast the mantle of enchantment over the midsummer night, and + we see Oberon, Titania and all the rest of them disporting on the breeze. + And to think that only this afternoon I saw all of those gawky girls + working in the fields, their legs the colour of tan bark, with sandals + that looked like canal-boats, skirts made of hemp,—just regular + kids. And you transform them tonight into gleaming cloudlets to float upon + the ambient atmosphere—” + </p> + <p> + “For heaven's sake, Pete, stop being an author and talk like a real man,” + interrupted Fitts. “Can't you say, 'Gee, they was great, Olger'?” + </p> + <p> + It was “Twelfth Night,” and Olga's pupils had given a fairy dance on the + Green. To conclude the almost mystic entertainment, the great Obosky + herself had appeared in one of her most marvellous creations,—the + “Dance of the Caliph's Dream,”—the sensational, + never-to-be-forgotten dance that had been the talk of three continents. + There was no spotlight to follow her sinuous, scantily clad figure as it + spun and leaped and glided about the dim, starlit Green; there was no + blare of brass and cymbals, nor the haunting wail of flageolets,—only + the tinkle of mandolins and Spanish guitars to guide her bewildering feet,—and + yet she had never been so alluring. + </p> + <p> + When it was all over,—when the charmed circle of faces had vanished + into the byways of the night,—she came and flung herself down upon + the steps of the Governor's mansion. She had wrapped her warm body in a + sheath of yellow velvet; the tips of her bare feet were exposed to the + grateful night air. Her uplifted eyes shone like the stars that looked + down into them; her lips were parted in a smile; her flesh quivered with + the physical ecstasy that comes only with supreme lassitude. + </p> + <p> + “You never danced so beautifully in your life, Olga,” said Careni-Amori. + “And after two years, too. I cannot understand. I shall never sing again + as I sang two years ago. But you,—ah, you dance even better. I take + courage from you. Perhaps my voice has not gone to seed as Joseppi's has,—poor + man. Not that it had very far to go,—but still it was second only to + Caruso's, and that is something. How can it be that you improve with + idleness, while I—while we go the other way?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never dance like zat again,” replied Olga, her eyes clouding. + </p> + <p> + “You speak as if it were your swan dance,” cried Michael Malone. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shall dance for ever,” said she, “but never again like zat. You + would ask why not. I cannot tell you. I do not know. Only can I say I + shall never dance like zat again,—never.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth turned her head quickly to look at the woman beside her. Olga's face + gleamed white in the starlight. Her eyes were still searching the speckled + dome, and the smile had left her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Don't say that, Olga,” she whispered softly. “You will delight great + audiences again,—you will charm—” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” interrupted the other, lowering her voice, turning her eyes + upon Ruth, and smiling mysteriously. “Great audiences, yes,—but what + are they? I appeared tonight before an audience of one. I danced as I have + never danced before,—all for zat audience of one. Your husband, my + dear. He one time informs me he has never seen me dance. Well,—tonight + I dance for him. Now, he can say he have seen Obosky dance. He will never + forget zat he have seen Obosky dance.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth laughed, but it was a strained effort. “He was positively enchanted, + Olga,” she said. Then she added: “But for goodness' sake, don't ever let + him know that you did it all for him. He will be so proud and important + that—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he knows I danced for him,” broke in the Russian calmly, in a most + matter-of-fact tone. + </p> + <p> + “You—you told him?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not have to tell him. He knew, without being told. La la, my dear! + Do not look so shocked. It is a habit I have. Always I dance for one + person in my audience. I pick him out,—sometimes it is a she,—and + zen I try only to please zat one person. I make him to feel he is the one + I am dancing for, zat he is all alone in the great big hall,—all + alone with me. Maybe he is in the gallery, looking down; maybe he is in a + box, or standing up at the back of the house,—no matter where he is, + I pick him out and so I think of no one else all ze time I dance.” + </p> + <p> + “And, by the same token, he is powerless to think of any one else. I see. + No wonder you charm them out of their boots.” + </p> + <p> + “And all the rest of his life he will remember that I danced for him + alone, zat man. As for me,—poof! I would not recognize him again if + he came to see me a thousand nights in succession. Once I saw a very tiny + boy in the stalls. He was with his mother and father. I danced for zat + child of six. When he is a very, very old man he will look back over the + years and see me dancing still,—always the same whirling, dazzling + thing that filled his little eyes and soul with wonder. So! Percivail has + seen me at my best. He will tell his grandchildren how wonderful Obosky + was,—and he will think of her to his dying day as something + beautiful, not something vile.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Olga!” + </p> + <p> + “You see, my dear,” said the other, composedly, “I wanted to make a good + impression on zat virtuous husband of jours. Now he will think of me as + the artist, not as the woman. It is much better so, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes you say things that cause me to wonder why I don't hate you, + Olga Obosky,” cried Ruth under her breath. + </p> + <p> + Olga laughed softly. “I repeat zat Golden Rule to myself every night and + every morning, Ruthkin,” said she, somewhat cryptically. Then they were + silent. + </p> + <p> + Conversation on the porch behind them lagged and finally ceased + altogether. The soft swish of fans was the only sound to disturb the + tranquil stillness. + </p> + <p> + “Nineteen-twenty,” fell dreamily from the lips of Randolph Fitts's wife. + “I used to think of Nineteen-twenty as being so far in the future that I + would be an old, old woman when I came to it. And here it is,—I am + living in it,—and I am not old.” + </p> + <p> + “Presidential year,” said Michael Malone, as he struck a match to relight + the pipe that had gone out. “Doesn't take them long to slip around, does + it? Seems only last week that I voted for Wilson. I wonder if he'll be + running again.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure! And if he can keep us in the war as long as he kept us out of it,” + said Peter Snipe, “we'll have to elect him again.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd give a lot to know whether we've got the Germans licked or not,” + mused Fitts. “We've had nearly three years to do it in.” + </p> + <p> + “Depends entirely on the navy,” said Platt, Minister of Marine, late of + the U. S. Navy. + </p> + <p> + “What can the navy do if the Germans will not come out?” demanded + Landover. + </p> + <p> + “Why, confound it all, the navy can go in, can't it?” + </p> + <p> + “The British Navy hasn't,” was Landover's reply. + </p> + <p> + “What's the use of speculating about the war?” said Percival, as he threw + himself on the grass at Ruth's feet. “Either it's over or it isn't, and + here we sit absolutely in the dark. They might as well be fighting on Mars + as over in Europe, so far as we are concerned. For God's sake, let's not + even think about the war. We'll all go crazy if we do.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right,” said Fitts, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “In any case,” said Malone, “Trigger Island has done all that any + self-respecting government can do. She has declared war on Germany. We + have nothing to be ashamed of. Still, I'd feel better if we could fire a + few shots at the dirty blackguards.” + </p> + <p> + “The war is over,” said Olga, staring up at the stars. “The Germans are + beaten. I have said so for many months, have I not?” + </p> + <p> + “You have,” agreed Malone. “But I don't see that you have anything on the + Kaiser. He said it was over in 1914.” + </p> + <p> + “'Don't argue with him, Olga,” said young Mrs. Malone. “He's Irish.” + </p> + <p> + “Like all Irishers he's longing for something he'll never get,” said + Fitts, drily. + </p> + <p> + “And what is that?” inquired Mrs. Malone. + </p> + <p> + “Home-rule,” said Fitts. + </p> + <p> + Olga Obosky yawned luxuriously. “I am so sleepy. My sandals, Governor + Percivail. I am going home.” + </p> + <p> + He picked up the sandals lying on the grass beside him and held them out + to her. She coolly extended one of her feet. + </p> + <p> + “It cannot bite you. Put zem on for me, your Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + WEST WIND DRIFT + </p> + <p> + He knelt and, slipping the sandals on one after the other, fastened the + straps over her bare insteps. + </p> + <p> + “So,” she sighed. “Thank you. Good night, Ruthkin. No! I shall go home + alone. There is nothing to be afraid of now on zis island, my dear. The + ardent Fernandez is playing—what you call it?—pea-knuckles?—he + is playing pea-knuckles away off yonder on zat prison island, as he has + been playing for nearly a year.” + </p> + <p> + Little she knew of Fernandez! + </p> + <p> + Ruth and Percival walked around the corner of the porch with her, out of + sight of the others. + </p> + <p> + “It was a perfectly ravishing dance, Olga,” said he. “If I live a thousand + years I shall never forget how beautiful it was.” + </p> + <p> + “You see?” cried Olga softly, pressing Ruth's hand. “Was I not right?” + </p> + <p> + “Men are very queer things,” said Ruth, with a curious sidelong glance at + her husband. Then she squeezed his arm tightly and went on with a little + thrill in her voice: “Good night, Olga. Thank you for the lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “What's all this?” inquired Percival. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing you would be interested in, my friend,” said Olga, with a little + laugh. She waved her hand airily as she moved swiftly away in the gloom. + </p> + <p> + They watched her yellow figure fade into the starlit shadows. As they + turned to rejoin the others, Ruth said: + </p> + <p> + “I think you might have told her how beautiful she was, dear.” So much for + the native perversity of woman, even when she is most content. + </p> + <p> + He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss upon the soft, warm + palm. It was a habit of his,—and she never failed to shiver in + response to the exquisite thrill. She drew a deep breath, and leaned a + little closer to him. + </p> + <p> + “Look up yonder, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Do you see the one star in + all the heavens that shines the brightest? It is the only one I see when I + raise my eyes. The big, full star in the Southern Cross. The others are + dim, feeble little things preening themselves in reflected glory. That + great, beautiful star at the foot of the Cross is all that I can see. It's + no use for me to look elsewhere. That star fills my vision. Its splendour + fascinates me.” + </p> + <p> + She waited for him to go on. Her eyes were shining. But the analogy was + complete. She laid her cheek against his and sighed tremulously. After a + moment, they turned their heads and their lips met in a long, passionate + kiss. + </p> + <p> + “I should be content to stay on this dear little island for ever, + sweetheart,” she murmured. “My whole world is here.” + </p> + <p> + He stroked her hair lovingly, and was silent for a long time. Then he + smiled his whimsical smile. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right for you and me, dear,—but how about the future + President of the United States sleeping up there in his crib?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled up into his eyes. “It's a nuisance, isn't it?—having to + stop and consider that we are parents as well as lovers.” + </p> + <p> + They rejoined the group on the porch. + </p> + <p> + “I had a horrible dream last night,” said Peter Snipe, getting up and + stretching himself. “That's why I'm staying up so late tonight. I hate to + go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “What was your dream, Peter?” asked Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe in 'em?” + </p> + <p> + “Only in day-dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I dreamed our little old ship was finished and had sailed at last + and for once our wireless plant up there began to get messages from the + sea. I dreamed I was sitting up there with the operator. It was a dark, + stormy night. The wireless began to crackle. He jumped up to see what was + coming. He was getting messages from our own ship, away out there on the + ocean. She was calling for help. 'Sinking fast,—sinking fast,—sinking + fast.' Over and over again,—just those two words. 'Gad,—it was + so real, so terribly real, that the first thing I did this morning was to + walk down to see if the boat was still on the stocks. She was there, a + long way from being finished, and—and, by gad, I had hard work to + keep from blubbering, I was so relieved.” + </p> + <p> + “It will take more than a dream to knock that ship to pieces,” said + Percival. “When she's ready for the water, there will not be a sturdier + craft afloat. Andrew Mott says she'll weather anything outside of the + China Sea. Don't look so distressed, Amy. Pete's a novelist. They never do + anything but dream horrible dreams. Generally they go so far as to put + them into print, and people read 'em and say they are wildly improbable,—especially + if they have a happy ending. It's always the happy ending that makes them + improbable,—but popular. Isn't that so, Pete?” + </p> + <p> + “If we didn't give them a happy ending, they would refuse to recognize us + the next time they saw us on a bookseller's counter,” said Peter. “Well, I + guess I'll be on my way. I've got a busy day tomorrow, setting up the + Trigger Island Pioneer,—and as I belong to that almost extinct + species known as the bachelor, I am forced to be my own alarm clock. Going + my way, Abel?” + </p> + <p> + “Good night, Ruth,” said Landover. “Give the Lieutenant Governor a good + smack for me,—and tell him he is still in my will.” + </p> + <p> + “Umph!” grunted Fitts. “I'd like to know what you've got to leave the + little beggar. Your letter of credit?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” replied Landover. “Something worth while, Fittsy, my boy. + I am making it now. It's going to be a hobby-horse, if I live long enough + to finish it. Good night, Perce. 'Night, everybody.” + </p> + <p> + When the last of the company had departed, Ruth and Percival stood for a + long time in silence, listening to the far-off thrumming of a Spanish + guitar, their tranquil gaze fixed on the murky shadow that marked the line + of trees along the shore, her head resting lightly against his shoulder, + his arm about her waist. + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking of, dear?” she asked at last. + </p> + <p> + “Peter's dream,” he replied. “It has put an idea into my head. The day + that ship down there sails out to sea with her courageous little crew, I + shall start laying the keel for another just like her.” + </p> + <p> + Neither spoke for many seconds. Then she said, a deep, solemn note in her + voice: “I understand, Perce.” + </p> + <p> + They went into the house. Later they stole tiptoe to the side of the crib + where slept the sturdy, sun-kissed babe. The two middle fingers of a + chubby hand were in his mouth. With one hand Percival shaded the pitch + candle he had brought from the kitchen. She leaned over and gently touched + the smooth, warm cheek. + </p> + <p> + “I—I can't believe he is real, Perce,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “He isn't,” whispered he. “He is something out of a fairy story. Nothing + as wonderful as he is can possibly be real.” + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's West Wind Drift, by George Barr McCutcheon + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WEST WIND DRIFT *** + +***** This file should be named 6014-h.htm or 6014-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/1/6014/ + +Produced by Carrie Fellman, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +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. 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