Part 21 (2/2)
she meditated.
Footsteps were coming from forward. The figure of the watchman flitted vaguely over the gangway. He was whistling softly and vanished. Hollow sounds in the boat were succeeded by a splash of oars. The night swallowed these slight noises. Mrs. Travers sat down again and found herself much calmer.
She had the faculty of being able to think her own thoughts--and the courage. She could take no action of any kind till her husband's return.
Lingard's warnings were not what had impressed her most. This man had presented his innermost self unclothed by any subterfuge. There were in plain sight his desires, his perplexities, affections, doubts, his violence, his folly; and the existence they made up was lawless but not vile. She had too much elevation of mind to look upon him from any other but a strictly human standpoint. If he trusted her (how strange; why should he? Was he wrong?) she accepted the trust with scrupulous fairness. And when it dawned upon her that of all the men in the world this unquestionably was the one she knew best, she had a moment of wonder followed by an impression of profound sadness. It seemed an unfortunate matter that concerned her alone.
Her thought was suspended while she listened attentively for the return of the yacht's boat. She was dismayed at the task before her. Not a sound broke the stillness and she felt as if she were lost in empty s.p.a.ce. Then suddenly someone amids.h.i.+ps yawned immensely and said: ”Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” A voice asked: ”Ain't they back yet?” A negative grunt answered.
Mrs. Travers found that Lingard was touching, because he could be understood. How simple was life, she reflected. She was frank with herself. She considered him apart from social organization. She discovered he had no place in it. How delightful! Here was a human being and the naked truth of things was not so very far from her notwithstanding the growth of centuries. Then it occurred to her that this man by his action stripped her at once of her position, of her wealth, of her rank, of her past. ”I am helpless. What remains?” she asked herself. Nothing! Anybody there might have suggested: ”Your presence.” She was too artificial yet to think of her beauty; and yet the power of personality is part of the naked truth of things.
She looked over her shoulder, and saw the light at the brig's foreyard-arm burning with a strong, calm flame in the dust of starlight suspended above the coast. She heard the heavy b.u.mp as of a boat run headlong against the ladder. They were back! She rose in sudden and extreme agitation. What should she say? How much? How to begin? Why say anything? It would be absurd, like talking seriously about a dream.
She would not dare! In a moment she was driven into a state of mind bordering on distraction. She heard somebody run up the gangway steps.
With the idea of gaining time she walked rapidly aft to the taffrail.
The light of the brig faced her without a flicker, enormous amongst the suns scattered in the immensity of the night.
She fixed her eyes on it. She thought: ”I shan't tell him anything.
Impossible. No! I shall tell everything.” She expected every moment to hear her husband's voice and the suspense was intolerable because she felt that then she must decide. Somebody on deck was babbling excitedly.
She devoutly hoped d'Alcacer would speak first and thus put off the fatal moment. A voice said roughly: ”What's that?” And in the midst of her distress she recognized Carter's voice, having noticed that young man who was of a different stamp from the rest of the crew. She came to the conclusion that the matter could be related jocularly, or--why not pretend fear? At that moment the brig's yard-arm light she was looking at trembled distinctly, and she was dumfounded as if she had seen a commotion in the firmament. With her lips open for a cry she saw it fall straight down several feet, flicker, and go out. All perplexity pa.s.sed from her mind. This first fact of the danger gave her a thrill of quite a new emotion. Something had to be done at once. For some remote reason she felt ashamed of her hesitations.
She moved swiftly forward and under the lamp came face to face with Carter who was coming aft. Both stopped, staring, the light fell on their faces, and both were struck by each other's expression. The four eyes shone wide.
”You have seen?” she asked, beginning to tremble.
”How do you know?” he said, at the same time, evidently surprised.
Suddenly she saw that everybody was on deck.
”The light is down,” she stammered.
”The gentlemen are lost,” said Carter. Then he perceived she did not seem to understand. ”Kidnapped off the sandbank,” he continued, looking at her fixedly to see how she would take it. She seemed calm. ”Kidnapped like a pair of lambs! Not a squeak,” he burst out with indignation. ”But the sandbank is long and they might have been at the other end. You were on deck, ma'am?” he asked.
”Yes,” she murmured. ”In the chair here.”
”We were all down below. I had to rest a little. When I came up the watchman was asleep. He swears he wasn't, but I know better. n.o.body heard any noise, unless you did. But perhaps you were asleep?” he asked, deferentially.
”Yes--no--I must have been,” she said, faintly.
VIII
Lingard's soul was exalted by his talk with Mrs. Travers, by the strain of incert.i.tude and by extreme fatigue. On returning on board he asked after Ha.s.sim and was told that the Rajah and his sister had gone off in their canoe promising to return before midnight. The boats sent to scout between the islets north and south of the anchorage had not come back yet. He went into his cabin and throwing himself on the couch closed his eyes thinking: ”I must sleep or I shall go mad.”
At times he felt an unshaken confidence in Mrs. Travers--then he remembered her face. Next moment the face would fade, he would make an effort to hold on to the image, fail--and then become convinced without the shadow of a doubt that he was utterly lost, unless he let all these people be wiped off the face of the earth.
”They all heard that man order me out of his s.h.i.+p,” he thought, and thereupon for a second or so he contemplated without flinching the lurid image of a ma.s.sacre. ”And yet I had to tell her that not a hair of her head shall be touched. Not a hair.”
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