Part 43 (1/2)
The diversion of thought reminded him of their helpless and forlorn condition. He went out and swept the horizon with an eager and hopeful gaze that soon drooped in disappointment. The day had worn on in unbroken calm: not a sail stirred within the immense radius of the waters. s.h.i.+ps he saw in plenty--a number of them moving under power east and west beyond the headland with its crowning lighthouse; others--a few--left s.h.i.+ning wakes upon the burnished expanse beyond the farthest land visible in the north. Unquestionably main-travelled roads of the sea, these, so clear to the sight, so heartbreakingly unattainable....
And then his conscience turned upon him, reminding him of the promise (completely driven out of his mind by his grim adventure before dawn, together with the emotional crisis of mid-morning) to display some sort of a day-signal of distress.
For something like half an hour he was busy with the task of nailing a turkey-red table-cloth to a pole, and the pole in turn (with the a.s.sistance of a ladder) to the peak of the gabled barn. But when this was accomplished, and he stood aside and contemplated the drooping, shapeless flag, realizing that without a wind it was quite meaningless, the thought came to him that the very elements seemed leagued together in a conspiracy to keep them prisoners, and he began to nurse a superst.i.tious notion that, if anything were ever to be done toward winning their freedom, it would be only through his own endeavour, una.s.sisted.
Thereafter for a considerable time he loitered up and down the dooryard, with all his interest focussed upon the tidal strait, measuring its greatest and its narrowest breadth with his eye, making shrewd guesses at the strength and the occasions of the tides.
If the calm held on and the sky remained un.o.bscured by cloud, by eleven there would be clear moonlight and, if he guessed aright, the beginning of a period of slack water.
Sunset interrupted his calculations--sunset and his wife. Sounds of some one moving quietly round the kitchen, a soft clash of dishes, the rattling of the grate, drew him back to the door.
She showed him a face of calm restraint and implacable resolve, if scored and flushed with weeping. And her habit matched it: she had overcome her pa.s.sion; her eyes were glorious with peace.
”Hugh”--her voice had found a new, sweet level of gentleness and strength--”I was wondering where you were.”
”Can I do anything?”
”No, thank you. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”
”For what, in Heaven's name?”
She smiled.... ”For neglecting you so long. I really didn't think of it until the sunlight began to redden. I've let you go without your lunch.”
”It didn't matter--”
”I don't agree. Man must be fed--and so must woman. I'm famished!”
”Well,” he admitted with a short laugh--”so am I.”
She paused, regarding him with her whimsical, indulgent smile. ”You strange creature!” she said softly. ”Are you angry with me--impatient--for this too facile descent from heroics to the commonplace? But, Hugh”--she touched his arm with a gentle and persuasive hand--”it _must_ be commonplace. We're just mortals, after all, you know, no matter how imperishable our egos make us feel: and the air of the heights is too fine and rare for mortals to breathe long at a time. Life is, after all, an everyday affair. We've just got to blunder through it from day to day--mostly on the low levels. Be patient with me, dear.”
But, alarmed by his expression, her words stumbled and ran out. She stepped back a pace, a little flushed and tremulous.
”Hugh! No, Hugh, no!”
”Don't be afraid of me,” he said, turning away. ”I don't mean to bother.
Only--at times--”
”I know, dear; but it must _not_ be.” She had recovered; there was cool decision in her accents. She began to move briskly round the kitchen, setting the table, preparing the meal.
He made no attempt to reason with her, but sat quietly waiting. His role was patience, tolerance, strength restrained in waiting....
”Shall you make a fire again to-night?” she asked, when they had concluded the meal.
”In three places,” he said. ”We'll not stay another day for want of letting people know we're here.”
She looked down, shyly. Coquetry with her was instinctive, irrepressible. Her vague, provoking smile edged her lips:
”You--you want to be rid of me again, so soon, Hugh?”
He bent over the table with a set face, silent until his undeviating gaze caught and held her eyes.