Part 53 (1/2)

Like a chip upon the surface of a torrent which suddenly hastens to the brink of the cascade, the boat and its burden of lives was s.n.a.t.c.hed along. The three who stood and gripped its gunwale saw the broad expanse of the Marina before them, saw it seem to sink as they themselves rose upon the flood, saw how they raced across it twenty feet above the level of its flags. And they saw more--saw it with eyes which seemed to sear their brains with antic.i.p.ation, with despair.

This!

A long, irregular, deep-fronted row of dwellings, square to the sea, square to the reeling ridge of ocean which was sweeping upon them as the gust sweeps down upon the far-flung autumn leaves.

They called aloud in chorus; they challenged Fate with their despair.

And Fate replied.

The waters reached the walls; the huge sheet of spray shot high into the night. But the dingy pa.s.sed on uncrushed.

An alley opened before them--an alley through which they shot on the roaring tide into the square beyond, sank down as the dwindling waters sank and with their last effort of destruction reached, and were borne into an arched opening girt about with trees. And then that, in its turn, became a ruin of plaster and planks and stone. The wave completed what the earthquake had all too thoroughly begun. The roof and walls crashed down into a grim monument upon a living grave.

CHAPTER XXVI

DAWN COMES

Out of the darkness of insensibility consciousness came slowly into being in Aylmer's brain, but memory lagged to join it. He was bound--that he realized, and his teeth were immovable upon a gag. The darkness was absolute and so, for the first few minutes through which his senses woke, was the silence. He could feel rough slabs of wood which cased his body in. He s.h.i.+fted uneasily and beat his temple upon a plank. The sweat of terror broke out upon his brow. He was buried alive!

G.o.d help him! The worst that could happen to a living soul was his sentence from the lips of Fate!

Something whimpered in the darkness; something stirred beside his feet.

In a flash came remembrance. The awful moment of disaster through which he had been carried, blind, speechless, and bound, became a picture in his brain--a picture the more vivid in that actuality had been hidden from him and imagination had supplied details beyond the compa.s.s of the real. He stirred afresh, he writhed, his bound wrists beat out upon the air.

The whimpers ceased and words followed--words in a child's voice shaken by fear. A trembling hand found Aylmer's sleeve, crept up it to his cheek, and halted there in miserable hesitation.

”It's me--it's me!” whispered the voice. ”Can't you speak? Oh, can't you speak to me?”

And then the wandering fingers found the linen band which bound the gag into place and was fastened behind Aylmer's head.

”Is that why?” said the child in eager discovery. ”Is _that_ why?”

The band cut into Aylmer's cheek as the knot was twitched with all the awkwardness of haste, but a moment later the pressure ceased. He spat the gag from between his teeth.

”Little John!” he cried. ”Little John! Are you hurt? are you able to stand?”

The boy clutched him with a sort of desperation of relief.

”Oh, you _can_ speak--you _can_ speak!” he shouted joyously. ”My head aches and my shoulder doesn't move right, but I can stand. I can reach nothing above my head--or right--or left.”

There was a creaking of timber as he moved, stretching his hands, as was evident, into the black emptiness about the boat. Aylmer's bound wrists were lifted to reach him.

”Pick at them--as you did before, little John,” he said. ”Loose me, so that we can search the darkness together.”

The child's breath came in zealous pants as he tugged and pulled, but the knots were tightly lashed and sodden with the sea. And his haste was a handicap; he plucked and twisted ineffectually. And finally he overbalanced himself and slipped.

He gave a cry of pain.

”I'm hurted--I'm bleeding!” he sobbed. ”I fell against something that cut!”