Enclosed with sail-cloth for almost its entire length, brilliantly illuminated by hundreds of electric bulbs skilfully clustered in the folds of the artistically draped bunting, with its crowds of dancers, the women with their beautiful gowns, white shoulders and flashing jewels, the ship's officers in full uniform, the men passengers in dress coats—the promenade-deck presented an animated scene of gaiety, light, and color, rendered all the more striking by the sharp contrast with the inky darkness beyond the steamer's rail. The steward's orchestra, screened behind a bank of decorative plants in a railed-off space at the far end of the deck, was playing a dreamy Waldteufel waltz, and the gay, laughing couples, their faces slightly flushed from champagne, whirling gracefully to the strains of the languorous music, made up a picture that appealed sensuously to ear and eye.
Grace was dancing with Count von Hatzfeld. In a décolleté, clinging gown of rose-colored chiffon,cut to set off to full advantage her snow-white shoulders and perfect figure, never had she looked so radiant. Around her slender throat was a string of priceless pearls, a gift from her father, and her hair, dark and lustrous, was arranged in a Grecian Psyche knot with gold bands. She held undisputed sway as belle of the ball, and covetous feminine eyes, ardent masculine eyes, followed her and her lucky partner as they waltzed up and down the deck. Both tall and graceful, they made a striking couple.
The count held her pressed closely to him as they turned slowly to the measured time of the voluptuous music. Her eyes were closed and her head drooped slightly on his shoulder. To him it seemed like a taste of heaven to hold this beautiful creature in such close embrace, and as he inhaled the subtle aroma that emanated from her skin and hair, like some exquisite, unfamiliar perfume, intoxicating in its effect, he wondered how he could have been such an ass to waste so many precious hours on Mrs. Phelps.
But Grace was not thinking of the count. He was not the type of man to interest her. She enjoyeddancing for itself, and she abandoned herself to it without a thought of the man who might happen to be her partner. She loved the graceful, rhythmical movement of the waltz, the rapid whirling round and round which made her heart beat tumultuously, the languorous music which intoxicated. She loved the luxury of costly costumes, the odor of beautiful flowers, the sparkle of diamonds and the careless gaiety and unconsequential chatter of the people of her own set. In short, hers was purely a sensual enjoyment—not materially different to that she aroused in the men—but she did not realize it.
"Ach, this is divine!" whispered the count. "May I have the next waltz?"
At that moment a couple brushed past them.
"There's Mrs. Phelps with Mr. Fitzhugh," said Grace mischievously. "She would scratch my eyes out if she caught me dancing with you again so soon."
"I care not," replied the German recklessly and ardently. "When I see your eyes, the world is dead to me."
A compliment of this kind would have pleased most women, but Grace was accustomed to them. They rather irritated her.
"I'm tired now," she said languidly. "Please take me to my seat."
They joined Mrs. Stuart, who, comfortably ensconced in a corner, was flirting desperately with Mr. Brown, the second officer, a tall, handsome man, smart-looking in his full-dress uniform and white gloves. The count murmured his thanks, bowed, and retired.
"I'm so thirsty!" gasped Grace, sinking into a chair. "I wish I had an ice."
"Allow me to get you one," said Mr. Brown.
Before she could protest, the second officer had disappeared in the direction of the saloon, where an elaborate supper was laid out.
Mrs. Stuart turned to her protégée:
"Grace, you've made a tremendous hit to-night. Your pearls look magnificent. All the women are raving about them."
"They ought to be," replied Grace indifferently. "They cost enough."
"Forty thousand, didn't you say?"
"I think that's what dad paid."
"Lucky girl! They might be glass for all you seem to care."
Grace made a gesture of impatience as she answered:
"What good are they? Merely pretty gewgaws. Their value means nothing to me. I'm sick of hearing what things cost. They won't bring me what I want most."
"What's that—a husband?" smiled Mrs. Stuart.
"Yes," replied Grace petulantly. "A husband—a man I could respect enough to want to marry. I lose patience with all these animated monkeys that dangle after me. I want a real man."
"Not very kind to the count after he's been so attentive to you all the evening," replied Mrs. Stuart, elevating her eyebrows. "No wonder you're tired, after dancing every single dance. I should be dead in your place. It's all very well to be the belle of the ball, but it's wearing on the nerves. I'm satisfied to play wallflower and talk to the second officer. You've no idea how perfectly fascinating heis. His gold braid and buttons are too cute for anything! What was the count breathing down your neck?"
"Oh, a lot of foolishness!" laughed Grace.
"Take care," exclaimed Mrs. Stuart, holding up a warning finger. "I saw Mrs. Phelps glaring at you several times. Besides, Germans make impossible husbands. The common German is gross, the educated German is conceited. Both are insufferable. You'd be miserable."
"Don't be alarmed, dear," smiled Grace. "I think no more of the count than I do of those musicians, not so much. Their music charms and he bores."
Mr. Brown reappeared, followed by a steward carrying a tray on which were ices andpetits fours.
"Oh, how perfectly sweet of you!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart. "I was dying for an ice—the heat is positively dreadful."
"It's getting warmer every minute," panted Grace. "I can hardly breathe. I think we're going to have a storm, don't you, Mr. Brown?"
"Oh—I don't know," replied the officer hesitatingly."It's always hot in these latitudes, you know. This is nothing to what you'll get in Bombay."
"Yes, I know," said Grace, nibbling daintily at the delicious frozen delicacy, "but there's something weird in the unnatural stillness of the air. I don't like to see the water so calm."
The second officer shifted uneasily about on his feet. He knew well that there was every indication of a storm. The barometer had been falling steadily for hours. The latest reading marked ten-twenty-nine, which was the lowest he had ever seen it. The captain, too, was uneasy. In fact, they were only waiting for the dance to break up to hurry and get everything shipshape for the blow which they knew was inevitable. Meantime, he argued to himself, there was no use in alarming the ladies or spoiling their fun. He was about to put off further questioning by some reassuring remark, when just then a quartermaster ran up, and, touching his cap, said:
"Cap'n wishes to see you on the bridge, sir."
"Very well, I'll come at once."
Turning to the ladies, Mr. Brown excused himself,and, with a salute, went away, followed by the sailor.
The gaiety was now at its height. It was impossible to move about the deck, so crowded was it with dancers and promenaders. Suddenly the concealed orchestra struck up the dulcet strains of Strauss'Blue Danube, and once more the couples began gliding and turning on the spotless deck, the women's gowns making a beautiful and ever-changing kaleidoscope of color and motion. Everybody was in high spirits. The women were flirting and drinking champagne. The men were laughing and having what the Hon. Percy Fitzhugh declared a ripper of a good time. It was a festival of fortune's favorites, a merrymaking of those lucky few who have nothing to do but enjoy life's pleasures.
Up on top of the deckhouse, hidden among the ventilators and smokestacks, two men gloomily watched the gay scene below. They were grimy with coal-dust and they wore greasy clothes, with tattered coats buttoned close to their necks. Hot as was the night, it felt cool to them, accustomed asthey were to the withering heat of the furnaces below. One was Armitage; the other was Bill. The two stokers had crawled out of the inferno to steal a breath of fresh air. The scene before them seemed like a vision of fairyland.
"Gee whiz!" exclaimed Bill, when he had somewhat recovered from his astonishment. "It's like at the theayter. Get on to 'em lights and the flags, will ye, and the bloomin' musicians! Look at 'em women folk dancin' all decked out in their sparklers, and 'em blokes wid their open-faced clothes! Officers, too, has on their Sunday duds. And, by gosh! If they ain't drinkin' fizz! Say, ain't it great to be rich!"
"Let them dance!" growled Armitage savagely, as he sullenly watched the merry crowd. "They'd dance to another tune if the boilers were suddenly to burst, or if the ship ran foul of a rock." Fiercely, he added: "D—n 'em! I'd like to see them down on their blessed knees, weeping and praying!"
To him these men and women, enjoying themselves in fine clothes, with plenty of money, without a care, represented the enemy. They belonged tothe class that had wronged him, the world that had been trampling on him all these years. They were those who laughed when he suffered, who threw him a bone as one does to a dog. How he hated them! He ground his teeth at the consciousness of his own impotence to do them injury.
"That's all right!" grinned Bill. "But anythin' as happens to 'em would catch us, too. I ain't ready for Davy Jones' locker yet."
Still watching the brilliant crowd below, as if fascinated, Armitage replied with an oath:
"I'm ready for anything. I'd just as soon go to the bottom as not. What do you fellows get out of life, anyhow? Nothing but hard work, kicks, and curses—scarcely enough to eat, while those swells have more than they know what to do with. And they never earned a cent of it." Savagely, he went on: "It's dead wrong, I tell you. Why should one come into the world poor and the other rich? Do you wonder I hate them?"
On the deck beneath, Grace rose from her chair and took Count von Hatzfeld's proffered arm. The count had been most persistent in asking for anotherdance, and to get rid of his importunities, she had consented. Slowly they began to turn to the charming strains of theFledermauswaltz, their tall, graceful figures making them conspicuous among all the other dancers.
"Say!" exclaimed Bill. "Does ye see that tall gal dancin' wid the guy wid the Dutch whiskers? Ain't she a stunner?"
Armitage's eyes followed those of his mate until they alighted on Grace, when they were immediately arrested. For a few minutes he said nothing, watching in silence the proud beauty who was the cynosure of every eye on deck. With growing interest he took mental note of her dark, flashing eyes, her slender neck and snow-white shoulders, her splendid figure, beautiful hair, and graceful carriage.
"She's pretty, all right!" he muttered, at last. "Look at those pearls round her neck. They're worth a fortune. Isn't she one of those women who came down to the stoke-hold the other day?"
Before Bill could reply there was a flash of lightning, followed by a sharp clap of thunder. Thesail-cloths began to flap ominously. On their grimy faces the two stokers felt drops of rain.
"We're in for it!" cried Bill. "Did ye see 'em storm-clouds?"
There was another glare, more vivid than the first, followed almost immediately by a report that left no doubt of the violence of the storm which was fast approaching. The flash revealed a mass of low-lying clouds, swollen with moisture to the bursting point, around which danced lurid green flames. The wind was rising rapidly with a sinister moan. The sea, while still smooth, was seething and covered with foam like water boiling.
"It's goin' to be a corker!" shouted Bill. "Let's get in before it breaks."
Without waiting to see if Armitage was following him, he ran back to the ventilator up which both men had climbed, and disappeared.
Below on the promenade-deck all was excitement and confusion. The peal of thunder had spread consternation among the women, and there was a general stampede for shelter.
The first rush of wind played terrible havoc with the bunting. The floral decorations were scattered in all directions. Part of the canvas awning was torn down. Chairs, tables, and glasses crashed to the deck. Amid the uproar were heard the harsh commands of the ship's officers, and the running here and there of sailors, as they hastened to execute orders. The wind squall died away as quickly as it had come, and for a brief spell the turmoil was succeeded by an unnatural quiet. Some of the passengers, inexperienced in weather signs, thought the worst was over, but the wiseacres shook their heads. It was the lull before the onrushing storm.
Grace and Mrs. Stuart had fled inside at the first alarm, and they both stood at the saloon entrance,peering nervously into the darkness beyond the rail, anxiously questioning Professor Hanson and Count von Hatzfeld, who tried to reassure them. The Honorable Percy Fitzhugh, his face white and visibly nervous, was so excited that he stuck his monocle in the wrong eye.
"I don't think it will amount to much," asserted the professor, in his pompous, authoritative way.
The words were barely spoken when he was rudely contradicted. Another blinding flash rent the heavens, revealing great masses of forbidding-looking clouds scudding across the sky and hanging so low that they seemed almost to touch the water. A terrific report followed, which shook the ship.
"Oh, I'm so frightened!" wailed Mrs. Stuart, clinging nervously to Mr. Fitzhugh's arm, much to the annoyance of that gentleman, who felt none too comfortable himself.
"Nonsense, Cora, don't be so foolish!" protested Grace. "We're perfectly safe here, no matter what happens."
"She's beginning to roll," said the professor, as the ship gave a sudden lurch.
"Why are we rolling—is it getting rough?" asked Grace, who was beginning to show signs of trepidation. "There doesn't seem to be any wind."
"It's so deuced dark one can't see a bally thing!" stammered Mr. Fitzhugh.
The night was pitch-dark, and after the brilliancy of the electric lights, to which their eyes had grown accustomed all evening, the surrounding wall of blackness seemed all the more opaque and impenetrable. Still, there was no wind, and the heat was suffocating. The uncanny silence continued. What could be seen of the sea was smooth, and oily, and illuminated in spots with green phosphorescent lights. A deep swell had set in. Rolling in great billows from the south, it caused the steamer to rock so violently that the women had to hold fast in order to keep their feet.
"Isn't this rolling horrible? Each minute I imagine the steamer is going to turn over!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart, so alarmed that she hardly knew what she was saying.
"A heavy swell like this," explained the professor calmly, "either follows a gale or comes in advanceof one. This sea is evidently the forerunner of a storm. The ladies had better go below before it gets any worse."
"I wouldn't think of going to bed," declared Mrs. Stuart emphatically. "Just think if we had to take to the boats and I were in my curl-papers."
Still no wind; only a weird moaning in the distance, which was distinctly audible amid the profound, mysterious silence. The lightning, now more frequent, revealed a sky terrifying in aspect. The suspense was nerve-racking to the stoutest hearted. The captain was heard shouting orders on the bridge. Officers and sailors hurried aft, and, driving the passengers below, closed and barricaded the storm doors. Gathered at the port-holes, their anxiety increasing each moment, the passengers waited and watched. Momentarily, the sea grew more convulsive. The waves increased perceptibly in size, and the ship rocked more violently. Nearer and nearer came that weird, depressing, wailing sound, like the moaning of all the unhappy souls that were ever drowned in the treacherous waters of the deep. Grace and her companions, now thoroughlyalarmed, felt that something extraordinary was about to happen, and it did.
All at once it came. There was a blinding sheet of greenish flame, followed by a deafening report. Then hell itself broke loose. The hurricane was upon them. It came with a terrifying rush of air, which, screeching and howling, raced along at a velocity of a hundred miles an hour, accompanied by torrents of rain. Nothing could withstand the whirlwind's fearful force. Everything loose on deck was instantly swept away. The Marconi aerial wires, snapping like twine, were rendered useless in an instant, the life-boats strained at their lashings, the air was full of flying débris, the officers on the bridge held on for their lives. The sea, now rising rapidly and worked into a frenzy by the force of the wind, was nothing but a waste of seething foam. The huge steamer heeled over at the first shock, and great, green seas, capped with foam, began to break upon the decks. Inside, the stewards ran here and there, closing ports, while the passengers, scared out of their wits, were gathered in the big dining-saloon, gathering such comfort as they could byceaseless questioning of the busy ship's officers.
"Is there any danger, Mr. Brown?" Grace asked the second officer, as he hurried past.
"No—no danger at all!" he laughed unconcernedly. "Just a little blow, that's all. No storm that was ever brewed could sink this ship."
Grace was reassured, and she breathed more freely, but Mrs. Stuart was skeptical.
"Ship's officers never acknowledge there is danger," she said crossly. "They wouldn't admit it even if we were all struggling for our lives in the water."
"Oh, there's no question that the ship is staunch enough," said the professor. "The only cause for alarm would be if the hurricane blew us out of our course and the steamer were to run on a rock."
As he spoke there was a terrifying crash of glass and an inrush of water. Mrs. Stuart screamed, and stewards ran from all directions. A giant wave had broken the great glass dome over the dining-room, and the water was pouring down in torrents.
"What will become of us? Where can we go?" wailed Mrs. Stuart.
"The staterooms are the best place in a storm," said the professor.
"Yes," said Grace. "Let's go to my stateroom. It's large enough to hold us all. We can be miserable together. Come."
They followed Grace, leaving the stewards to mop up the water.
The tempest had now reached its height. The shrieking of the wind and the thunderous blows of the terrific seas, as they broke against the sides of the ship, was terrifying to listen to. The boldest among the men passengers no longer concealed their anxiety, and most of the women were in a mental condition bordering on panic. Mrs. Phelps refused to follow the example of Grace and retire to her stateroom. She preferred, she said, to be where she could get out easily if anything happened. So with a stiff brandy and soda to give her courage, and Count von Hatzfeld to keep her company, the widow prepared to sit out the night in company with a crowd of other frightened passengers, who sat all huddled together in a sheltered corner of the dining-saloon.
Up on the deck, where duty compelled the officers and crew to expose themselves to the full fury of the storm, the scene was wild beyond description. The force of the wind was extraordinary. It was impossible to face it and breathe. The noise was deafening. What with the continual roar of the now raging sea, the screeching of the tempest and the crash of thunder, the tumult was appalling. The officers on the bridge, clad all in oilskins, hung on for their lives, shouting orders through megaphones.
A tremendous sea was running and theAtlantalabored heavily. She rolled so badly that it seemed impossible that she could ever right herself again, and every now and then there came a lurch that strained all the joints, throwing everybody off their feet. The promenade-deck, swept by foaming green water, was practically afloat. One giant comber after another broke over the rail with a thunderous roar, sending up clouds of spray that completely hid the bridge from sight. The night was pitch-dark. Only the intermittent flashes of lightning permitted a glimpse of the raging ocean. It being impossible to see farther than a ship's length ahead,the officers on the bridge were ready for any emergency. The lookouts had been doubled, and the engines slowed down. Captain Summers had left nothing undone to ensure the safety of the passengers entrusted to his care and skill, but it was evident from the way in which he bent forward and strained his eyes in an effort to penetrate the murk ahead, that the situation was critical.
Among those exposed to the weather on the upper decks there was only one who watched with grim indifference the fury of the hurricane. The fiercer the wind blew, the angrier grew the ocean, the higher rose Armitage's spirits. When the tremendous seas began to break over the vessel, the stoker exulted. He was still among the ventilators where Bill had left him, not having had time to retreat before the storm broke. Caught by the first rush of wind, he was hurled violently against an iron stanchion and knocked senseless. When he came to, he found himself clinging desperately to a rail, with the hurricane blowing right over him. The force of the wind was inconceivable. He tried to stagger to his feet and resist it, but he could notmove. The atmosphere was full of a rushing, irresistible force which suffocated him. The rain, driven with merciless violence, blinded him. He could neither breathe nor see. His ears were deafened by the unearthly screeching of the wind and the constant roar of the waves. A flash rent the surrounding blackness. He caught a glimpse of the water convulsed in a fury, the decks below swept by foaming seas, the ship's officers and crew running excitedly about.
It flashed upon him suddenly that the steamer was in danger, yet, instead of making him tremble with apprehension, the thought stirred within him a thrill of savage exultation. Why should he care? Only those who enjoyed life had reason to recoil from death. What joys did life hold out to him? He could never redeem the past. He was tired of the struggle. He had knocked about the world long enough. He would be discharged on the steamer's return to port, and it would be hard, if not impossible, to find another job. Luck was certainly against him. What was the use of bucking against one's luck? It would be as well to have done withit all. A jump into the sea, a moment's choking and involuntary struggle with the waves, and all would be over. His jaws closed with a click, and a hard expression came into his eyes. If this was to be the end of all his hardships and suffering, at least he would not go alone. Those first-cabin passengers, with their dainty frocks and fastidious manners—they would have to take the same watery road as he. The rich and the poor, the happy and the wretched—all are equal in the presence of Death. And as each second the hurricane increased in fury, and the ship plunged more heavily, he had a sense of savage joy as, in his mind, he pictured the final catastrophe, the wild scramble for the boats, and the final screams and death struggles in the boiling waves.
Suddenly there was a deafening roar. He heard warning shouts, followed by the splintering of wood and the smashing of glass. Then came a solid wall of green water. A mountainous sea swept clean over the place where he lay, and passed on, leaving him bruised and gurgling for breath. Only the rail had prevented him from being carried bodily overthe side. A giant wave had crashed down on the ship, twisting rails, smashing life-boats, and deluging the interior of the ship with tons of water. Below could be heard the shouts of the passengers. A moment later, without further warning, came another and more serious shock, a series of bumps on the ship's bottom, accompanied by a harsh, rending sound. The steamer stopped and trembled from bow to stern. There was a grinding sound. The vessel listed and heeled far over. The engines suddenly stopped. The siren began to blow dismally. The officers were shouting. TheAtlantahad run on a rock.
In the saloon and staterooms all was chaos and confusion. The electric lights had gone out, the sudden inrush of water having extinguished the furnaces. Already the scared firemen were climbing up from the stoke-hold like rats escaping from a sinking ship. Every one realized that the steamer was doomed, yet there was no panic. The imminence of the peril seemed to have stricken every one dumb, passengers and stewards alike. Hardly a sound was heard except the quick orders given bythe officers and the noise of the passengers' footfalls, as they hastened up on deck. Every one was cool. The men retained their self-possession, the women their fortitude. There was no sign of hysteria. On every one's face was a tense look of quiet anxiety, as if it was realized that death was near, and each had summoned up courage to meet it bravely. Even Mrs. Stuart, white-faced and half fainting, did not give way entirely. She and Grace, assisted by Professor Hanson, made their way as quickly as they could to the deck where, all huddled together, they patiently waited for the sailors to lower the boats. The waves were running mountain high. What use were the life-boats in such a sea? Grace's lips moved in prayer.
Armitage, still clinging to the rail, watched the sailors as they worked rapidly at the davits to lower the boats. This, he said to himself, was certainly the end. No boat could live in those tremendous seas. They would all drown like rats. He saw the Honorable Percy Fitzhugh, still in his spats and green Tyrolian hat, but very humble now, and white-faced, standing by the girl he had seen dancing—theproud beauty with the big dark eyes. She was pale and silent, yet she did not give way to hysterical emotion. He admired her for her pluck. She was spunky—that was evident. Some women got into a boat, which was lowered away in safety. Another was let down, loaded to the gunwale with human freight. Just as it touched the water there came a tremendous wave, the fragile boat was tossed high in the air, and in an instant its occupants were struggling in the water. There were women's screams and men's shouts, then a sinister silence. Armitage laughed. At last he had the upper hand. These swell cabin passengers drowning there before his eyes were afraid of death, while he welcomed it. He felt grateful that this much revenge had been vouchsafed him. The cries of the dying, the frightful tumult raised by this death orgy of wind and sea, instead of frightening him, sounded in his ears like the most sublime music he had ever heard.
As the doomed ship settled deeper on the reef, the waves broke on board with redoubled force. It was only a question of minutes when the huge hulk would begin to go to pieces. Suddenly there was aterrific explosion, the deck rose under him, and the next thing he knew he was in the sea, battling with the waves.
He was an expert, powerful swimmer, and he found himself struggling for life in spite of himself. He tried to stop swimming, to let himself sink. He could not. The instinct of self-preservation was too strong. So he swam on, now resting, now floating. He saw nothing of the ship or of the boats. He presumed some got away. He heard shouts, but paid no heed. Steadily he swam on, wondering when his strength would give out and nature would let him drown. All at once he bumped against something soft.
"Save me!" cried a woman's voice weakly.
Instinctively he put out his hand and caught her by the hair just as she was going down for the second time. Her eyes were closed and her face pale as death. It was the tall girl with the dark eyes. If she had not spoken he would have thought she was dead. Supporting her firmly with one hand and keeping her head above water, he swam on. He wondered why he took the trouble. He would tiresoon and then both must sink. But he swam on, with Grace limp, unconscious, half drowned at his side. He felt he was unable to stay afloat much longer. His left arm was already numb from the girl's dead weight. Every muscle in his body ached. The end must soon come. Why not let her go now and have done with it?
Suddenly he heard a sound that gave him renewed energy. It was the roaring noise of heavy surf beating on the shore. They must be close in land. Another determined effort and perhaps he could get in. Desperately exerting the last of his great strength, he swam on. A monster wave carried him forward, high on its crest, and as the water retired he felt sand underneath his feet. Another billow carried them in still farther. He was in a maelstrom; he could not see; there was a rushing, roaring sound in his ears. A wave knocked him down, and they were both nearly suffocated as they rolled over and over in the boiling water. He staggered to his feet and was again dragging her in when a receding wave snatched them back. Then came another and bigger wave which threw themin again. This time he dug his feet desperately in the shifting sand, and, by a herculean effort, resisted the deadly suck of the undertow. The wave receded, leaving them still higher. Before another could reach them he had picked his unconscious companion up in his arms, and staggered up the beach safe out of the clutch of the water.
Dawn broke, gray and wet. Although the storm had spent its fury and the wind had quieted down to a gentle breeze, the sea still ran mountains high and a fine rain was falling. But there was promise of clearing weather. Low on the eastern horizon a fringe of fiery red broke through the leaden clouds, putting in relief the water-line and heralding the near approach of sunrise. Away out yonder, far beyond the towering, white-capped breakers, protruded the jagged points of the treacherous sunken reef on which the ill-fatedAtlantahad crashed to her doom.
Armitage strained his eyes in every direction until they ached. With the coming of daylight he had expected to get a glimpse of the wreck; possibly he would see people still on board, signaling for help. But as the darkness paled and he was able to distinguish water and sky through the receding gloom, he saw, to his amazement, that the steamer had completelydisappeared. He perceived pieces of wreckage, and, near the reef, he thought he spied an upturned boat, but of the big steamer and the other life-boats which got away before the boilers exploded, there was not a sign. Nothing but a desolate waste of tossing gray water met his eyes everywhere.
As far as he could make out they were on an island. He had no idea how large it was, or if it was deserted or inhabited. He had heard his shipmates talk of islands in the Indian Ocean that were a peril to navigation, and he supposed this was one of them. When it got lighter he would be better able to take his bearings.
He was exhausted and weak after his long struggle with the waves, and his brine-soaked clothes hung heavily on him. Yet he no longer looked the same man he had been on the ship. The transformation in his appearance was startling; the long swim had effected a wonderful change. All trace of coal-dust had disappeared from his face and neck; once more he was a white man. His hands were cut and bleeding from the sharp rocks, and his body wasbruised from head to foot, but nothing could conceal the fact that his bearing had distinction, that his head was well shaped, his features clean cut, that he had a strong mouth and a clear eye.
But he was supremely unconscious of how he looked. He was desperately hungry. His throat was dry and parched. His brine-soaked clothes hung heavily on him. His senses and consciousness seemed numbed. In truth, he marveled to find himself alive. Why had he exhausted and bruised himself struggling with the waves, fighting death, when he had no desire to live? Yes, he remembered now. It was the girl's fault. She had cried out to him, and somehow, in spite of himself, he had clutched at her and saved her from drowning.
He clenched his fists and muttered an oath as he turned to look at her. She was still lying, apparently unconscious, in the spot where he had carried her after they both staggered out of the jaws of death, and fell, exhausted, on the wild, storm-swept beach. His first instinct on gaining a foothold safe from the deadly suck of the thundering breakers had been to find for his helpless companion some kindof shelter from the wind and rain, and as he was assisting her over the slippery stones, green with slimy sea grass, they accidentally stumbled across a wide opening in the face of the precipitous cliff. Nearer inspection showed it to be a deep crevice, hollowed out of the solid rock in past ages by the action of the water. The sea had since receded, leaving a kind of cave, of no great height or depth, yet large enough to accommodate half a dozen persons. The interior was dry, while the thick growth of velvety moss underfoot provided a comfortable couch.
"A shipwrecked young woman couldn't wish for more luxurious quarters," muttered Armitage grimly to himself, and after he had taken mental note of the natural advantages of the place, he turned to look at the prostrate girl.
As yet Grace had given no sign of life. Her eyes were closed and her face livid. But for the nervous twitching of her mouth, and a low moan which from time to time escaped her lips, one might think she was dead. Her head was thrown back against the cold, damp wall, her beautiful, long hair, matted bysea water, was all disheveled. Water ran off every part of her and formed a little puddle by her side. Her dainty ball-dress, the envy of every woman on board only a few hours before, was in shreds. What remained of it, soaked and discolored, clung closely to her figure, revealing to Armitage's gaze outlines which caused the blood to rush tumultuously to his head. Her low-necked gown, torn during the panicky rush for the life-boats, had collapsed entirely at one side, exposing part of the delicately rounded, blue-veined bosom, and shoulders and arms as white and academically beautiful as if cut in marble by the sculptor's chisel.
NEVER IN HIS LIFE HAD HE BEHELD A WOMAN SO FAIR.NEVER IN HIS LIFE HAD HE BEHELD A WOMAN SO FAIR.
Armitage stood transfixed, his pulse throbbing furiously, his heart in his mouth. For a moment the beast was aroused. His eyes sparkled sensually, incoherent sounds issued from between his clenched teeth. A kiss on that gently curved, sensitive mouth would be as near a taste of heaven as ever he would get. He'd be a fool to hesitate. They were alone—he and this girl—not a human being was within a thousand miles of them. The chances of rescue were infinitesimal. They had escaped the waves only todie of starvation—that was certain. If they must die—to-day—to-morrow—or the next day—why deny oneself any joy that the world still had to offer? Thus he argued, not in these words, but in feverish, unreasoning, reckless thought. Boldly he approached her. His face was flushed, his eyes were ardent as they took in every voluptuous detail of her motionless form. He advanced closer, and, bending over her, stood for a moment fascinated by the sight of her bare, alabaster-like skin and perfectly modeled arms. Never in his life had he beheld a woman so fair.
Suddenly she stirred and uttered a low moan. Armitage sprang back and looked around guiltily. Only the screaming sea-gulls were there to witness his discomfiture, yet his face had the expression of one detected in an unworthy action. Again Grace moaned and stirred as if in pain. He stood irresolute, embarrassed, not knowing what to do to help her, trying to feel that he didn't care, surly and ill-tempered because he felt contempt for himself. What was this woman's suffering to him? She belonged to the class he now hated, the detested plutocracyupon which he had declared war. The money she spent on her finery and pleasures was no doubt gotten by cheating such poor fellows as he out of their rights. Let her have her share of hard knocks. He chuckled to himself as he reflected on life's ironies. Only a few brief hours ago, on the luxuriously appointed liner, she was everything, he was nothing. She was the grand lady, the pampered cabin passenger; he was the despised stoker, hardly to be counted among human beings. Suddenly what an astounding revolution! A cataclysm, and all was changed—distinctions of birth, education, and wealth were instantly abolished. Now they were merely two helpless human beings cast away on a deserted island in the lonely mid-ocean, one dependent upon the other, one no better than the other. They had returned to primeval conditions. In what way was she his superior now?
Thus arguing to himself, he took fresh courage and drew nearer. She was certainly pretty, there was no getting away from that, and he—was a man!
Lying there, pale, soaked, bedraggled, Grace looked the picture of utter misery. Of the artificialaids to good looks which women in their vanity love to employ, not one remained, yet even with every adjunct of self-adornment gone she was still beautiful. The exuberant spirits and pride of bearing were no longer there, only a sad, wistful, pallid loveliness that was even more potent in its appeal than the radiant, gay, fashionably gowned, proud beauty who had attracted his gaze when, from his place of concealment among the ventilators, he had gloomily watched the brilliant scene on the promenade-deck.
She made no attempt to move. Still stunned by the awful calamity which had so swiftly overtaken the steamer, her ears still ringing with the despairing cries of her friends as they were swept to their deaths, her brain was a blank. She could not think or reason. Every sense seemed paralyzed. She felt no sensations of hunger or thirst. She was surprised to find herself still alive. All she remembered was the terrible explosion, the frenzied scramble for the boats, and then all at once she found herself in the water, swimming, trying to keep herself afloat. How she reached the shore she did not know. A man had caught her as she was sinking,and in a vague sort of way she thought he was one of the crew. She wondered where she was and why her body ached so. The air chilled her bare shoulders. She shivered, moaned, and opened her eyes.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, advancing.
This abrupt breaking of the long silence by the sound of a human voice seemed strange to her. She thought she was dreaming, and she smiled faintly at the absurdity of it.
"Are you hurt?" he demanded, again stooping over her.
She turned her gaze wonderingly on Armitage. In the uncertain light it was difficult to get a good view of his face. He seemed a stranger to her. From him, her eyes wandered inquiringly round the cave.
"Where am I?" she asked, in a low voice.
"On an island," he replied shortly. "The steamer's lost. Only you and I were saved."
She turned white, and her breath came and went quickly. Then she caught sight of her torn gown, and quickly she covered herself modestly, a faint flush overspreading her pale face. She continuedto stare at Armitage, as if he reminded her of some one she had seen before. Puzzled, she passed her hand over her eyes as if trying to remember.
"Who are you?" she said finally. "Where have I seen you before?"
He shifted uneasily on his feet and looked away, avoiding her scrutiny. Why should she know that he had been one of the poor devils in the stoke-hole? Perhaps she already recognized him as the deserter who was so unceremoniously dragged on board ship in New York Harbor. Gruffly he answered:
"I was swimming. I heard you cry out. I brought you in—that's all."
"You were one of the crew?"
He nodded.
"Yes—one of the crew."
"How can I thank you!" she exclaimed. "My father is rich. He will reward you."
He laughed harshly.
"Money isn't much good here. You don't realize where we are. Every one's gone but we—all are drowned. We're as good as dead. We're a thousand miles from the mainland—with no means ofgetting away and no food. There's little chance of being sighted by a passing ship, for the storm had blown us out of the regular steamer track." Brutally, he added: "You might as well understand the situation. Death by starvation stares us in the face."
Grace interrupted him by an outburst of hysterical weeping. Weakened physically by exertion and exposure, her nerves overwrought by terror and suspense, little wonder that at last she gave way. She sobbed like a child, a piteous passion of tears that would have melted a heart of stone. She didn't care for herself. She was ready to die. But she was sorry for Daddy and her poor mother. They would grieve for her and it would break their hearts. She shuddered as she thought of the shocking fate which had befallen her recent companions on the ship.
"Perhaps some of them got away in the boats," she gasped between her tears.
"Maybe they did," he replied, with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders. With a gesture of impatience he added curtly: "It's no use crying. That won't do any good. What you need most is to getout of those wet clothes. You're soaked to the skin."
"I have no others to put on," ruefully she replied, making an effort to sit up and squeezing the water out of her skirt. She thought with dismay of all her precious belongings forever lost at the bottom of the sea. Fortunately, her pearls were saved. The necklace was still round her throat.
"Look!" she said, holding the necklace up so he could see it. "At least we have these. They are worth $40,000."
He laughed derisively.
"They're worth nothing where there's no one to buy them," he growled. Then, impatiently, he said: "Don't waste your time bothering about that. What you want to do is to take those clothes off right away. Then you'll dry them and put them on again. You can't remain any longer in wet clothes."
He spoke authoritatively, with the commanding air of one who intends to be obeyed. She was in no mood to argue the matter. Besides, he was right. She was already chilled and ran the danger of getting pneumonia unless she dried her clothes quickly;but how could she change them—with no fire to dry her things and with this man coming in and out? He saw her embarrassment and intuitively guessed the reason. He was still in the shadow, but she fancied she noticed a covert smile hovering about his mouth, and she immediately took a dislike to him, in spite of the service he had rendered her. His manner was overbearing—almost insolent. Again, there was something about him that reminded her of a man she had known or seen, but still she could not remember. Turning to her, he said gruffly:
"I'm fairly well soaked myself. While you're changing I'll go and take a run along the sands and dry my clothes in the sun. Before I go I'll light a fire for you to dry your clothes on."
He produced from his pocket a small box wrapped in oilskin. Opening it, he held up three lucifer matches, and, grimly, he said:
"These are worth more to us than your pearls. See—there are only three left, and they're as dry as when I left the ship. I'm going to light a fire just outside there, at the foot of the cliff. Once lighted, the fire must never be allowed to go out. It mustburn night and day. It will keep us warm and cook our food. I'll start the fire; you'll keep it going with what small pieces of wood you can gather. Do you understand?"
Grace was taken aback. For a moment she was speechless with indignation. This man, this common sailor, was actually giving her a command, telling her to do menial work, and admonishing her to do it properly, as if she were a domestic servant. Her first impulse was to rebel and order him angrily from her presence. On second thoughts, she said nothing. After all, he was right. She ought to be willing to do her share. They were no longer on the ship where she had only to touch a button and a dozen maids and stewards ran to obey her slightest whim. Although reared in luxury, and petted and indulged since her birth, she was not a fool. She was quick to realize that conditions had changed and that their respective social positions—hers and this sailor's—were now completely reversed. She was dependent on him, not he on her. If she were to be saved, it would be thanks to his resourcefulness, his courage. Her money would be of no usehere. He alone could protect and save her, so why, quarrel with him. Docilely, therefore, she replied:
"Yes—I understand."
Armitage left her alone in the cave, and, proceeding along the silvery sands, set hastily to work to gather together the scattered driftwood. The beach was strewn for miles with the flotsam and jetsam of countless tides, an accumulation that apparently had been undisturbed for centuries. Much of it was moldy with age and, well protected from the rains by overhanging rocks, was dry as tinder.
"This stuff'll make a bully blaze," he muttered cheerfully to himself.
He toiled with a will, glad of the brisk exercise to take the kinks out of his numbed limbs. The sun was now high above the horizon, and its warm rays felt grateful after the chill of the stormy night. Directly he had started the fire, he'd leave the girl to change her clothes and go himself where he could take a rub-down and lay out his own things to dry. Then he'd take a run along the coast and climb the cliff to see what sort of a place this was they had landed on. He felt a sense of relief that he was nolonger subjected to the discipline and restraint of the ship.
He chuckled to himself as his mind dwelt on the disaster that had emancipated him. His taskmasters were no longer there to torment him—all were drowned or gone away in the boats. Once more he was a free man. At last he could raise his head. To the others the wreck had been an overwhelming calamity! to him it meant salvation. No matter what the future had in store, no matter what privations he must suffer on this island—even if he must soon perish—anything was better than the torture he had endured in that hellish stoke-hole.
In a way, he felt sorry for the girl. Evidently she was not used to roughing it. It would be harder for her than for him. She seemed inclined to be haughty, he thought. He had noticed the proud toss of her head when he spoke about her attending to the fire. He smiled grimly. She didn't like that. Well, that was the fault of her bringing up. How could a girl, raised as she'd been, be expected to do anything useful? Such girls were only the butterflies of life—of no particular use except to lookpretty. It wouldn't do her any harm to learn a thing or two. Apart from that, she seemed all right. In fact, he was not sorry she'd been saved to share his solitude. His hour had not come to die, that was sure; otherwise he'd have been drowned with the rest. As long as he had to be cast away on this barren islet it was as well that he had a companion. Of course, she wouldn't be much use if it came to real hardships—procuring food, fighting off attacks of animals or reptiles, or building a boat to get away—but she was a beauty, a prize-winner, no mistake about that. Again his eyes gleamed as his mind dwelt upon what had been revealed to him in the cave—a torn dress, a white, soft neck, a soaked dress showing limbs like sculptured marble, a curved mouth, tempting enough to inflame a saint. Fast and furiously he worked, strange thoughts crowding upon each other in his brain.
Soon he had gathered a big pile of driftwood, and had it all ready for lighting. He rubbed his hands with satisfaction. They'd soon have a blaze that could be seen fifty miles out at sea. Taking from his pocket once more the little box, he unwrapped theoilskin and took out one of the three precious matches. Then, with infinite precautions, stooping and covering the tiny flicker with one hand to protect it from the wind, he applied the light. Only one match was necessary. Owing to the extreme dryness of the wood, the pile caught instantly. A thick column of smoke rose to the sky, followed by a sharp crackling and long tongue of flame. More wood and more he kept piling on until he had before him a roaring furnace. Pleased with the quick result, he shouted to Grace, who was still inside the cave.
"See here. You'll soon dry yourself by this fire!"
Grace appeared at the mouth of the cave. Busy tending to the fire, his back turned toward the cliff, he did not see her suddenly recoil as she perceived him, nor the expression of consternation and terror that came into her pale, wan face. As he stood there full in the strong light of the roaring fire, she saw the face of her rescuer distinctly for the first time. She saw vividly a picture she had seen once before on the ill-fated ship—the handsome profile of a man bending low over a glowing furnace, with the shouldersand muscles of a Hercules, and the head and grace of a Greek god. Transfixed, her bosom heaving, she stood rooted to the ground. Now she remembered! Now she knew him! He was the fireman Armitage—the terrible man of theAtlanta's stoke-hole. She was alone on the island—with that terrible man!
The rest of that morning, Grace, to her intense relief, saw little of the man into whose abhorrent company she had been so strangely and unceremoniously thrown. Once the fire was well started Armitage had disappeared, leaving her in privacy to attend to her immediate needs. For this much consideration she felt grateful to him. But, after she had dried her clothes and had time to realize her terrible situation, she was overwhelmed by the hopeless horror of it. Her faculties well-nigh paralyzed, her nerves shattered almost to the point of total collapse, she sank down on a rock under the frowning cliffs, and, looking helplessly out over the vast and now peaceful sea, started to take mental stock of the extraordinary predicament in which she suddenly found herself.
Things had happened so quickly that she had no time for reflection. Bad as the situation had been before, it was ten times worse now. To think thatshe should be perched on a lonely island hundreds of miles from civilization, without any means of communicating with the outside world, alone with that man—and such a man!
Her heart sank as she remembered all the dreadful things she had heard about him on the ship. It was surely calamity enough to be shipwrecked and cast away on a stupid little island without food, shelter, or clothes, but how much more serious was the situation when the only other human being to be saved beside herself was the worst character on board. The first revelation of his identity was such a shock to her nervous system that she nearly swooned, her brain reeled, she thought she would go insane with terror.
She tried to calm herself. At the worst, she argued philosophically, he could only kill her and throw her body into the sea. Not that she could look forward to such a fate with equanimity. She gulped down a hysterical sob as she pictured her splendid form and tender young flesh providing a toothsome meal for some rapacious shark, and she wondered if the world—particularly her own set—wouldcare when they read in the sensational Sunday papers all the horrible details of her dreadful end. Yet why, after all, should this man—this ogre—kill her? Her pearls didn't tempt him. Hadn't he scoffed at them just now? Then her face blanched and she dug her manicured nails deep into her skin as she thought of a worse fate than death that could overtake her. She had read and heard of such things—hadn't Professor Hanson, during their talks on shipboard, conceived this very situation?
She wondered how she could protect herself and what attitude she should adopt toward this man. An open rupture would never do; she must not even show distrust of him. Only she must be constantly on her guard. All these thoughts were rushing through her brain when it suddenly occurred to her that she was hungry. What was more natural? The last thing she had eaten was the plate of ice cream brought to her during the dance by Count von Hatzfeld. Since then nothing but sea water had passed her lips.
A feeling of faintness came over her, and soon her dread of Armitage gave her less anxiety thanher speculations regarding the problem of procuring food. She was desperately hungry. Perhaps if she walked along the shore she could pick up some shell-fish—oysters, or perhaps some crabs. She thought pensively of the delicious crab meatà la Newburg, served in chafing-dish, which was one of the culinary delights of Sherry's delightful little after-the-theater suppers, and, closing her eyes, she gave a sigh of despair. Then, catching a glimpse of her water-stained, tattered gown, she could not help laughing in spite of her misery. The idea of her traipsing along the sands in a décolleté ball-dress struck her as ludicrously incongruous. She must find something else to wear, but what?
She wondered where Armitage had gone and why he stayed so long away. Perhaps he would never come back. Then, surely, she would perish miserably alone. It needed a man's strength and resourcefulness to ensure an existence in such a wild, deserted spot. What could she, a frail woman, do alone to get food and devise some way of escape? Unconsciously, she already missed her companion. Without realizing it, she admitted his superiorityin the new conditions the shipwreck had brought about.
Suddenly she heard a shout, and, turning quickly, she saw him coming along the beach carrying something in his hands. She advanced toward him, preserving a cold, indifferent exterior, but glad secretly that he had returned. After all, he was a human being, some one she could talk to. Had she alone been saved, to live alone on this island, she would have gone mad. As she watched him approach she wondered why she had not recognized him at first. It was the same tall, splendidly proportioned figure, the same dark, wavy hair, closely cropped, the same regular features, and bold, defiant toss of the head. Yes, she saw the reason why. His face was clean and white now, whereas on shipboard she had never seen it any other way than grimy and covered with coal-dust. The involuntary bath had effected a wonderful transformation. He was decidedly handsome. As he came along at a quick, swinging gait she wondered why such a fine fellow should have sunk so low as to be obliged to become a common stoker.
"I have your breakfast here!" he called out cheerily, as he came in earshot. "I guess you're ready for it."
She reddened, and stammered a confused reply.
"Here's some fresh water," he said, as he came up to her. Holding out a huge scallop-shell filled with water, he went on: "You can drink it safely. I've found a spring in the hills away yonder. It's clear as crystal."
Grace drank greedily, murmuring her thanks.
"It's delicious!" she gasped between gulps.
He gave a grunt of satisfaction.
"I picked up the shell along the beach," he said. "It doesn't make a bad drinking-cup. We'll find it useful. Mind you don't lose it."
Again that tone of command which had irritated her before. She looked up angrily, but he was paying no attention to her. Putting his hand in his pocket he brought out some mango fruit and offered it to her.
"Here's something you can break your fast with. There's plenty of it growing hereabouts. There arelimes and cocoanuts, too, for the picking. When I get my tackle fixed, I shall be able to catch some fish."
He threw himself down on the sloping beach as though weary after the long exploring tour, and, picking up a splinter of wood, he started to draw lines on the sand.
Grace, busy eating, her white teeth biting hungrily into the luscious fruit, watched him without speaking. His abrupt manner intimidated her. She was afraid of him, and the realization of her own utter helplessness only served to make her more nervous. Finally, summoning up courage, she asked:
"What did you see—could you make out where we are?"
He looked up and nodded. Then, with his bit of wood, he began to draw in the soft sand a diagram of their position. Carelessly he said:
"We're on an island about ten miles long by about three miles wide. It seems to be of volcanic origin and uninhabited. The land is low and swampy in parts, with a lot of thick brushwood, but there's a big hill on which we can build a signal fire."
"What are our chances of being sighted and taken off?" she interrupted eagerly.
"Decidedly slim, I should say," was his laconic rejoinder.
Grace stopped eating, and a look of dismay overspread her face. He continued:
"You see we're far out of the regular steamship track. Not being down on the chart, navigators probably never heard of this island. Our only hope is in the whalers. These waters are full of whales, and whaling-vessels come here after them from all parts of the world. Some no doubt land here to replenish their supply of fresh water. Or a passing whaler may sight our fire."
"How long will we have to wait?" she demanded anxiously.
He shrugged his shoulders as if the length of their enforced sojourn on the island were a matter of no concern to him. Indifferently he replied:
"One can't tell. Three months—six months—a year!"
"A year!" gasped Grace. "How could I live here a year, or even six months—I should go mad."
He smiled grimly.
"Oh, we get accustomed to most anything when we have to. I wasn't overfond of the job I had on the ship, but I had to knuckle down to it all the same. We don't always get things the way we want them, do we?"
She ignored the rebuke, too much perturbed at the gloomy prospect he held out. Nor did she notice that this was the first allusion he had made to his work in the stoke-hold.
"Even a month would seem like a century," she went on almost hysterically. "Is there no possible way of reaching the mainland?"
He shook his head.
"The nearest land is a good eight hundred miles away. We have no boat—no compass——"
"Oh, what can we do? What can we do?" she wailed, pacing to and fro, swinging her hands.
"Make the best of it, I should say," he replied coolly. There was the suggestion of a smile hovering around his mouth, and his eyes were full on her as he added: "I'm in no particular hurry to get away myself."
She saw the covert smile and the boldness of his glance, and it aroused her resentment. Forgetting her caution she turned angrily on him.
"Of course,youdon't care. Why should you? You find there's plenty here to eat and nothing to do. That kind of life suits you better, no doubt, than having to earn a living by hard work. You've no friends who are mourning for you, no father or mother grieving over your supposed death. So long as you can enjoy creature comforts without paying for them, you are satisfied to stay here forever. But with me it's different. My life has not been like yours. You ought to realize that. What may seem like comfort and all that is necessary to you, is torture and starvation to me. You ought to be able to see that! You ought! You ought!"
She stopped, her face red from excitement, her bosom heaving, her voice choking with sobs.
Taken aback at the vehemence of her hysterical outburst, he simply looked at her, admiring her flashing, dark eyes, fascinated by her beauty. He did not care what she said, although she had spoken as a woman might to her lackey. Her words werestinging, her tone contemptuous. She had given him plainly to understand that she was fashioned of entirely different clay. When forced to it by circumstances she might, when thirsty, share his cup. She might, when hungry, accept part of his food, but aside from the satisfying of these elemental human desires, he and she had naught in common. He must understand that plainly.
"She's dead right," he said to himself. Socially they were separated by the widest gulf imaginable. Even with him to attend to her wants she would be as much alone on this island as if he were not there. A common stoker was hardly fit to breathe the same air as a girl who was heiress to millions, accustomed to all the refinements of wealth.
He looked at her for a moment in silence. His face flushed and his lips moved as if he were about to make some angry retort. With a visible effort he mastered himself, and, turning on his heel, he walked slowly away.
Grace's first impulse was to recall him. Only her pride prevented her running after him. Already she regretted her hasty words. She would have givenalmost anything to unsay them. She had not intended to be discourteous to this man. Whatever his character might be, however low he might be in the social scale, he had rendered her a service she could never repay. He had saved her life. Yet, thoughtlessly, needlessly, she had hurt his feelings. What utter folly it was to boast of her social position in her present predicament. She thought with bitterness how little her culture and education could help her now. Their situation was precarious enough without making matters worse by senseless bickerings.
Wearily she sank down on a rock, angry with herself, apprehensive of the consequences of her speech. She had had reason to fear him before; by her own foolishness the rupture was now definite. This new misunderstanding would certainly add to her discomfort and perhaps lessen her chances of escaping from this worst of horrors—a living death!
Looking out to sea, she strained her eyes in every direction in the hope of catching a glimpse of some vessel which to her would mean safety and home. The thick black smoke from the fire Armitage hadstarted was still rising in a straight column to the sky. If there happened along a craft of any description their signal could not fail to be seen. But her tired eyes swept the horizon in vain. There was not a speck on the vast expanse of shimmering blue to give her the slightest encouragement. Her heart sank within her. All signs of the recent hurricane had disappeared. Once more Nature was in holiday garb. The ocean reflected the turquoise-blue of the cloudless heavens; the air, gently stirred by a balmy breeze, was fragrant with the odor of spices. There was no trace of the wreck or of the missing life-boats. The ocean had completely engulfed the steamship. What the fate of the other passengers, officers, and crew had been could only be matter of conjecture.
"God grant that they got safely away," she murmured fervently to herself. "Perhaps they will be picked up by some ship and then they may come in search of me—unless they come to the conclusion that I'm dead. I might just as well be dead as here."
She was still ravenously hungry. The little fruitshe had eaten had not satisfied her and she did not know where to go to look for more. She wondered if she had made him so angry that he would entirely desert her and leave her to starve. With a shudder she thought of other terrors in store for her. What about the coming night?
The afternoon was rapidly advancing; before very long the sun would set and what then? How could she face the coming darkness alone with that man whom she had angered and with all the unknown terrors the island contained? Almost panic-stricken from sheer nervousness and anxiety, utterly discouraged and miserable, she buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.
Suddenly she heard a footstep, and, looking up, she saw Armitage approaching. He was making only slow progress, being weighted down with some heavy object.
"Here's a prize!" he shouted, as he came nearer.
Staggering up to near where she stood he set down a huge iron pot.
"I spied it lying among the drift along the shore," he went on. "It's a bit rusty, but that'll scrape off.It's worth its weight in gold to us. We've something to cook in now."
He spoke cheerily, with the utmost frankness. If he still nourished any resentment his manner did not betray it. In her present state of depression Grace would have welcomed the apparition of Satan himself. She made no attempt to conceal her joy at his return. Clapping her hands with childish enthusiasm, she cried:
"Oh, isn't it perfectly lovely!"
At home she had never been inside a kitchen. It is indeed doubtful if she knew what a culinary utensil looked like. Perhaps it had never occurred to her that the kettle and many other things as humble are all indispensable parts in our civilization. But now she understood. Necessity is a quick teacher and Grace was learning. The pot was an ordinary tripod affair, battered and rusty. Judging from its appearance, it had fallen overboard from some ship and had floated ashore. Otherwise it was sound and serviceable. She could see that its value to them was well-nigh inestimable.
"That's splendid—that's bully!" she repeated excitedly.
He enjoyed her enthusiasm. It was the first time he had seen her smile, and it looked good to him. He chuckled to himself as he said: