Part 29 (1/2)

What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. Marine Insurance. Here was a hole as wide as a church-door.

What could be simpler than, with a set of inquiries relative to a South Sea tramp registered as _The Tigress_, to make a tour of all the marine insurance companies in Hong-Kong? O'Higgins proceeded to put the idea into action; and by noon he had in his possession a good working history of the owner of _The Tigress_ and the exact lat.i.tude and longitude of his island.

He cabled to New York: ”Probable destination known.”

”Make it positive,” was the brisk reply.

O'Higgins made it positive; but it required five weeks of broken voyages: with dilapidated hotels, poor food, poor tobacco, and evil-smelling tramps. It took a deal of thought to cast a comprehensive cable, for it had to include where Spurlock was, what he was doing, and the fact that O'Higgins's letter of credit would not now carry him and Spurlock to San Francisco. The reply he received this time put him into a state of continuous bewilderment.

”Good work. Come home alone.”

CHAPTER XX

To Spurlock it seemed as if a great iron door had swung in behind him, shutting out the old world. He was safe, out of the beaten track, at last really comparable to the needle in the haystack. The terrific mental tension of the past few months--that had held his bodily nourishment in a kind of strangulation--became as a dream; and now his vitals responded rapidly to food and air. On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. The will to live had returned.

For five days _The Tigress_ chugged her way across the burnished South China, grumpily, as if she resented this meddling with her destiny. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper.

On the sixth day, however, they made the strong southwest trade, and broke out the canvas, stout if dirty; and _The Tigress_ answered as a bird released. Taking the wind was her business in life. She creaked, groaned, and rattled; but that was only her way of yawning when she awoke.

The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. Rather a hazardous spot for a convalescent, and McClintock had been doubtful at first; but Spurlock declared that he was a good sailor, which was true. He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas.

There were mysterious sounds, all of them musical. There were swift actions, too: a Kanaka crawled out upon the bowsprit to make taut a slack stay, while two others with pulley-blocks swarmed aloft.

Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. The sea was no longer rolling bra.s.s; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jade-coloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amids.h.i.+ps. Once the s.h.i.+p faltered, and the tip of this jade wall broke into a million gems and splashed him liberally. Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time.

This laughter released something that had been striving for expression--her own natural buoyancy. She became as _The Tigress_, a free thing. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present. Yesterday!--who cared?

To-morrow!--who knew?

”Porpoise,” she said, touching his hand.

”Fox-terriers of the sea; friends with every s.h.i.+p that comes along.

Funny codgers, aren't they?” he said.

”When you are stronger we'll go up to the cut.w.a.ter and watch them from there.”

”I have . . . from many s.h.i.+ps.”

A shadow, which was not cast by the jib, fell upon them both. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling.

What had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail. The acid of this incert.i.tude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. But that was all over.

n.o.body could possibly find him now. The doctor would never betray him. He might spend the rest of his days at McClintock's in perfect security.

McClintock, coming from below, saw them and went forward. ”Well, how goes it?” he asked.

”Thank you, sir,” said Spurlock, holding out his hand.

McClintock, without comment, accepted the hand. He rather liked the ”sir”; it signified both gratefulness and the chastened spirit.

”And I want to thank you, too,” supplemented Ruth.