Part 14 (1/2)

In truth, I had had enough of the yacht; I should have cursed myself for my folly had we parted company with the s.h.i.+p and then met with bad weather again; it was impossible to hear the clanking of the pump, and glance at the coil of cold bright water gus.h.i.+ng from it without a shudder that penetrated to my inmost being. And to keep my sweetheart in this perilous craft, rendered leaky and ricketty by storm; to go on subjecting her to the brain-addling convulsive pitching and tossing of the poor, mutilated hooker; to risk with her another pa.s.sage of violent winds, merely to preserve a vessel which I was now quite willing to let quietly go to the bottom!

”Not for a million!” said I aloud. ”No, my darling,” I continued, as I fondled her hand, ”my business is to see you safe first of all. There is safety yonder,” said I, pointing to the _Carthusian_, ”but none here. We must take our chance of being trans-s.h.i.+pped from her as speedily as may be, of being put on board some pa.s.sing steamer that will carry us home swiftly and comfortably. But sooner than miss the chance that vessel yonder provides us with, I would be content to make the whole round voyage in her, with you by my side, though she should occupy three years in completing it.”

We had been waiting, and watching the weather for about an hour, when my eye was suddenly taken by a cloud of extraordinary shape, sailing up the sky out of the north and east, whence the wind was still blowing.

It was of the colour of sulphur, and was the exact representation of a huge hand, the forefinger outstretched, the thumb curved backwards as it would be in life, the remaining fingers clenched. As it came along it seemed to project from the dirty grey surface of vapour under which it sailed; it was as though some t.i.tan, lying hid past the clouds, had thrust his hand through the floor of vapour with the finger pointing towards the mighty Atlantic.

By the time it was over the yacht its shape had changed, and it pa.s.sed away to leeward formless, a mere rag of yellowish vapour. But it had lingered long enough as a compacted colossal hand, pointing seawards, to astonish and even to awe me. It might have been that my brain was a little weakened by what we had pa.s.sed through, and by want of rest; it is certain, anyway, that the spectacle of that hand of vapour touched and stirred every superst.i.tious instinct in me. Grace, as well as Caudel and the others, had stared up at it with wonder, Job Crew agape, and the boy Bobby squeezing his knuckles into his eyes again and again as though to make sure. As it changed its form and floated away, I exclaimed to my sweetheart:

”It was the finger of Heaven pointing out our road to us, and telling us what to do.”

”It was a wonderfully shaped cloud,” said she.

”Grace, after that sign,” I cried excitedly, ”I would not remain in this yacht though her leak were stopped, all sail made upon her, and Penzance as far off as you can see,” said I, pointing.

She looked, awed by the effect of the apparition of the cloud upon me, and held my hand in silence with her eyes fixed on my face.

The s.h.i.+p having canvas upon her, settled slowly upon our bow at a safe distance, but our drift was very nearly hers, and during those weary hours of waiting for the sea to abate, the two crafts fairly held the relative positions they had occupied at the outset. The interest we excited in the people aboard of her was ceaseless. The line of her bulwarks remained dark with heads, and the glimmer of the white faces gave an odd pulsing look to the whole length of them, as the heave of the s.h.i.+p alternated the stormy light. They believed us on our own report to be sinking, and that might account for their tireless gaze and riveted attention.

I could well imagine the deplorable figure our yacht made, as she soared and sank, time after time plunging into some hollow that put her out of sight to the s.h.i.+p, leaving nothing showing but the splintered masthead above the clear emerald green or frothing summit of the swollen heap of water. At such times the spectators aboard the _Carthusian_ might well have supposed us gone for ever.

CHAPTER VIII

OUTWARD BOUND

On a sudden, much about the hour of noon, there came a lull; the wind dropped as if by magic, here and there over the wide green surface of ocean the foam glanced, but in the main the billows ceased to break and washed along in a troubled but fast moderating swell. A kind of brightness sat in the east, and the horizon opened to its normal confines; but it was a desolate sea, nothing in sight save the s.h.i.+p, though I eagerly and anxiously scanned the whole circle of the waters.

The two vessels had widened their distance, yet the note of the hail, if dull, was perfectly distinct.

”Yacht ahoy! We're going to send a boat.”

I saw a number of figures in motion on the s.h.i.+p's p.o.o.p. The aftermost boat was then swung through the davits over the side, four or five men entered her, and a minute later she sank to the water.

”Here they come, Grace!” cried I. ”At last, thank Heaven!”

”Oh, Herbert, I shall never be able to enter her,” she exclaimed, shrinking to my side.

But I knew better, and made answer with a caress only.

The oars rose and fell, the boat showed and vanished, showed and vanished again as she came buzzing to the yacht, to the impulse of the powerfully swept blades. Caudel stood by with some coils of line in his hand; the end was flung, caught, and in a trice the boat was alongside, and a sun-burnt, reddish-haired man, in a suit of serge, and a naval peak to his cap, tumbled with the dexterity of a monkey over the yacht's rail.

He looked round him an instant, and then came straight up to Grace and me, taking the heaving and slanting deck as easily as though it were the floor of a ball-room.

”I am the second mate of the _Carthusian_,” said he, touching his cap with an expression of astonishment and admiration in his eyes as he looked at Grace. ”Are all your people ready to leave, sir? Captain Parsons is anxious that there should be no delay.”

”The lady and I are perfectly ready,” said I, ”but my men have made up their minds to stick to the yacht with the hope of carrying her home.”

He looked round to Caudel who stood near.

”Ay, sir, that's right,” exclaimed the worthy fellow, ”it's agoing to be fine weather and the water's to be kept under.”