Part 31 (1/2)
The boat drifted on, the men for the most part resting upon their oars.
It was not desired to float far from the s.h.i.+p, since the best hope of rescue lay in keeping in her vicinity. The fog was slowly lightening, and the flare of the electric lights showed a faint gold patch through the grey. Katrine kept her eyes fixed on that patch. So long as it continued, she could hold on to hope. If it died out, so would the light fade from her own life...
Sitting huddled in her seat, Jackey's little form pillowed in her arm, Katrine's thoughts reviewed her past life and marvelled at the strangeness of it. Paced with the possibility of death, all the years that were past counted for nothing as compared with the happening of a few short days. Martin, Grizel, the friends and companions of her youth--she repeated their names, and sought to visualise each countenance in turn. In vain! the likenesses refused to appear; even Martin's face was blurred, or was it that she had not enough patience, enough interest, to spare for the effort? Bedford was the world; apart from him she was incapable of a regret.
The boat drifted on. Now the sailors had turned her head and were rowing slowly back towards the s.h.i.+p. The yellow blur still shone through the fog. The men discussed together as to the amount of damage that had been done, the possibility of keeping the hulk afloat. Nancy Mannering turned and spoke into Katrine's ear:
”My dear, one word! ... You mayn't suspect it, but I've a heart--. In a physical Sense, I mean, no sentiment; and it's a poor thing. I don't expect to be drowned, but a little more of this excitement, and it may play tricks. It's all one, I'm not whining, but if I _should_ pan out, and you get through, will you just write to my boy? Tell him I asked you, and that he is not to grieve. Bound to go somehow, some day, and, why not now? I've no particular wish to live on here, but you can tell him this--wherever I am, whatever comes next, there'll be no peace for me unless _he_ keeps straight! That I _know_, and he'd better know it, too.” She was silent for some moments, during which Katrine heard the quick intake of her breath, then: ”And tell him,” she added with difficulty, ”tell him I've always been an ostrich, hiding, not my head, but my heart. Somehow I couldn't let it out, but,” her voice deepened to a full, rich note, ”there's never been a moment of his life, since he was born, when I wouldn't have been flayed--_slowly_! for his good!
Tell him his mother loved him more than her life.”
”I'll tell him; I won't write. I'll travel the length of India, if need be, to tell him myself,” cried Katrine, deeply touched. To discover a hidden weakness in her jaunty, self-sufficient companion was to feel herself infused with new strength. She was needed, and the woman in her rose to the? demand. She hitched Jackey on one side so as to free her right arm, and fumbling in her companion's pocket found and extracted the flask.
”Meantime, if you have no care for yourself, think of _him_, and be careful for _his_ sake. What is the use of talking of love, if you won't do even that for his sake? Be sensible for yourself as well as for other people!”
”Mr d.i.c.k, your common-sense is invaluable!” Mrs Mannering drank, smacked her lips, and grunted with satisfaction. ”That's good! That's better. I needed that.” Then after a momentary pause. ”Remember though, _if I do_ come through, your work is to forget. No bringing up of deathbed confidences! ... Anything in the same line that I can do for yourself?”
”No,” answered Katrine shortly. If the end came, Martin and Grizel could console each other without help from her. And their figures were misty. Even Jackey himself counted for more at this moment, embodying as he did a great potential possibility of life. As for Jim Blair--ah!
let Jim hug his false dreams: let him never awake!
The hours dragged on. The children slept; some of the women slept also, worn out by their fears. Katrine's cramped arms still held their burden, but Nancy Mannering had turned herself round in her seat, presenting her broad back as a support.
”Let yourself go, my dear; lean your weight on me. Nothing like a support to your back. I was at the opera just before I sailed--six s.h.i.+llings' worth of gallery, and never a rail at the back. Leaned back against a young lad's knees, and he wriggled in seventeen fits.
Prudery, eh? Or perhaps I was too old. Well! Well!”
The voice had its old jaunty tone, but the language in which she spoke was unintelligible. _Opera_! Katrine shrank at the sound. Face to face with death, the trivial happenings of life retreated to an illimitable distance. Was it possible that one had ever cared for such baubles--had counted them among the goods of life!
At the stern of the boat a woman was praying aloud, while those around joined in with tears and sobs. Katrine roused herself to listen, and caught fervid confessions of sin and wrong-doing. Her thoughts turned inward; she also ought to pray, to make confession. Drearily she asked herself what she had done, and failed to discover a tangible offence.
Honestly she had endeavoured; honestly she had refrained. Looking back over her life she could find no shrinking from duty, no unfair dealing, no violation of a law. She had not ”gone astray,” she had not been ”vile and sinful altogether”; the woman's abas.e.m.e.nt of self-blame left her untouched. The searchlight of conscience revealed sin indeed, but not of commission. _Lack of level_--that was the flaw--of whole-hearted, unselfish love which gave all and asked for no return; love which could transform the commonest events, and make of duty a joy!
Grizel possessed that love; a spring of tenderness and sympathy, welling within her heart. She had found it easy to live with a querulous old woman. ”She doesn't worry me: I _love_ her!” Katrine heard again the tone of the deep, rich voice giving the simple explanation. She herself had placed Martin before all created things, but there had been no tenderness in her heart. With opened eyes she looked back on the critical, exacting sentiment which she had called love, and found it unworthy the name. Her arms tightened round the sleeping child. This then was the secret of life. Love--”the fulfilment of the law.” If life were spared, it would be the motive spring for which she would strive; given that, the rest would follow. The women at her side were imploring for forgiveness, and comfort in death. Katrine prayed for life. ”More life: fuller life! _Fill my mean heart_--!”
Ten minutes later when the rescuing s.h.i.+p steamed into view the sight which should have brought exhilaration broke down the most sternly-kept composure. Men and women wept together, wept and laughed, and sobbed and clung, even the most composed giving way to their emotion now that the strain was at an end.
On she came, a stately form, summoned by the wondrous message of the air, racing through the water to the n.o.ble work of rescue. Nearer and nearer, until she was close at hand, and white faces looked down from the crowded decks. The nightmare of removal from the boat was accomplished in safety. Katrine felt her waist encircled by a tender arm, and heard a woman's voice addressing her in tremulous tones. Her cramped limbs could hardly move, she was half-led, half-carried into a luxurious cabin, undressed, laid in a warm, fresh bed, fed with soup and wine. The women who waited upon her shed tears as they worked, but she herself was dry-eyed. She was thinking of that yellow glimmering light through the fog, the light of the s.h.i.+p which held her world,--the s.h.i.+p with a hole in her side...
But an hour later Nancy Mannering came to her bedside with a face working with emotion, to tell glad news. The pa.s.sengers of the injured s.h.i.+p had been transferred to the C--, but the crew remained at their posts, for the water-tight compartments were bravely doing their work, and there was hope of keeping her afloat until Bombay Harbour could be reached. Meantime the rescuing vessel had her in tow.
”Shut your eyes, my beauty, and sleep!” said Nancy Mannering gently.
”He's off to his bed. I've seen him, and touched him, and heard his voice. He's a real live man and no ghost, as to-morrow morning you'll see for yourself, and if you ever say good-bye to him again,--well! you deserve all you may get.--Go to sleep, child, go to sleep, and thank the good G.o.d!”
But the next morning Katrine did not get up. She was prostrate with physical collapse, and there was no mental effort to spur her into action. She did not want to meet Bedford. Now that safety was a.s.sured, it was torture to remember her own words, and to realise that the first confession of love had come from her own lips, not his. She welcomed the weariness and pain which kept her a prisoner in the cabin; dreaded the meeting which must inevitably come. The dread and the shame, the excitement and the distress, increased her physical ailments; the doctor was summoned, once and again, before the day was over, and other methods failing prescribed a sleeping-draught to secure a night's rest before landing. As a result Katrine slept heavily, but awoke to so crus.h.i.+ng a headache that movement appeared out of the question.
No matter, Nancy Mannering a.s.sured her. It would be hours before the s.h.i.+p had disgorged her double complement of pa.s.sengers, to say nothing of the luggage. She was to lie still, recover slowly, go on sh.o.r.e quietly later on when the fuss and racket were over. The captain had sent a special message to a.s.sure her of his consideration and help. Two other women were prostrate like herself. They also were to wait.
Katrine settled down again into a fitful sleep, through which the tramp of feet, the clamour of voices, the banging of luggage, beat confusedly upon her brain. From time to time Mrs Mannering crept in to look at her, and stole out unnoticed; it was not until late in the afternoon, when quiet reigned on the deck overhead, that she met opened eyes and a smile of welcome.
”I'm dreadfully lazy! I'm afraid it's ever so late, but I can dress quickly now for my head is better. Is--?”