CHAPTER XXV.
ON THE BRINK OF ETERNITY.
Mate Robbins spoke as with authority, and no one thought to question his orders.
All the same, the announcement created a tremendous excitement in the cabin of the wretched yacht.
Diana became hysterical again, poor girl! the horror of that awful night had almost unsettled her reason.
From my heart I pitied Gustavus, feeling that his task of saving a woman whom fright had rendered worse than helpless, was something that contained little of hope.
Heaven knows the thing was bad enough even when taken at its best—Hildegarde, brave little woman, had just as much reason to allow her natural fears to throw her into hysteria as Diana, yet, white-faced, she controlled herself enough to face the terrible situation, ready to do what little she might to snatch victory from almost positive defeat.
I feel sure I would have a more doleful story to tell, even if I lived to relate it, had she been as utterly helpless as the distracted beauty.
The seamen, grim fellows, knowing they had to face the fight of their lives, began pushing for the deck, each man strapping on the life-preserver with which he had provided himself.
They were apparently cool and ready to match their strength against the brutal forces of the sea. For years they had braved the tempest’s wrath, believing, as most sailors do, that it was only a question of time ere their bones must rest far below upon coral beds or banks of sea moss.
That hour had come, perhaps, and with philosophical grimness they faced their fate.
I had arisen as soon as Robbins announced the dread crisis at hand.
“Come, Hildegarde, my darling—we must go on deck and meet what faces us. If it be Heaven’s will I shall save you. If not, at least we may die together.”
It was in no spirit of heroism that I uttered these words—they sprang directly from my heart.
To look down upon this woman, dearly beloved, and consider that in a brief time she must be at the mercy of those cruel waves beating so madly around us was surely enough to wring the soul of any husband.
Yes, I lived years in that fleeting time.
Hildegarde had also arisen, and her blue eyes were fastened upon my face—I saw love and trust there, but something seemed lacking.
“Oh! Morgan, what is your duty?—to stand by me or help—that woman? I have heard her cry out your name again and again,” she said.
“That’s because she’s hysterical.”
“But your duty——”
“Is to stay with you now and always—nothing under heaven can tear me away.”
“But—Diana—she has a claim——”
“Not on me, with you here. Let her look to her own husband for help; I belong to you.”
My words, spoken so stubbornly, brought out a strange answer.
Hildegarde uttered a cry—it was not of fear such as Diana’s wails—oh, no, something entirely different. Strange how that note of joy sounded amid the exclamations of fright, the bursting of the waves against the stranded yacht, and the whistle of the wind.
“Oh! Morgan, he her husband——”
“Yes, these fifteen months and more,” I cried, as the truth dawned on me, and I saw as in a flash what the grave barrier was that in her mind had stood between us.
“Forgive me—I thought—they told me you had gone away with your old flame. Morgan, here with death facing us, tell me that you forgive me—for, I love you, indeed better than ever before in all my life.”
Well, I even forgot that the yacht was going to pieces under us, and that Death on a White Horse was riding very near, eager for victims. A man may ignore even such important facts as these when the clouds suddenly part to allow the warm sun a chance to thaw out his frozen heart.
For the first time in our lives we understood each other then.
I saw upon her face such ecstatic love that it were even worth the terrible danger to enjoy such a moment of bliss.
Eagerly I opened my arms and she sprang to their shelter—please Heaven, never to leave it again save to cross the dark stream to eternity.
It was strange to see us heart to heart in that moment of dread uncertainty; I doubt very much whether a more remarkable reunion had ever occurred on earth.
The clouds were all gone—she was mine, mine alone, be the time of my possession minutes or years.
I strained her to me, and she looked up from my arms, just as I had fondly pictured her doing, with an expression of angelic joy upon her face—the daylight was creeping in through the open cabin door, shaming the dim lamplight that had been our comfort all through that dreadful night, and rested with almost a benediction upon her sweet face.
Gustavus had managed to get his wife on deck, swathed as she was in cork belts. Alas! I knew too welltheir multiplicity would avail her little unless she could use common sense while battling with the waves.
We were alone in the cabin; Robbins had carried off little Carmencita, and I felt she would be saved if mortal power could affect it.
The yacht gave a tremendous shudder under the impact of a big wave, and instantly a hand of ice seemed to clutch my heart, for I believed the very end had come, and that disintegration was at hand.
But there was yet time.
It aroused me, however, to a consciousness of my duty, which was to neglect no opportunity for advancing our cause—our chances would be infinitely better on deck than when confined to the cabin, should the yacht break and be engulfed in the boiling sea.
“Come, beloved, we must get out of this; the only hope we have is to avoid being caught in the wreck when the awful moment arrives. Trust me, Hildegarde,” I said, bending and kissing her, not passionately, but with that holy affection we bestow upon the beloved one who perchance hovers on the portals of eternity.
“Now and evermore, husband!” was the answer she made, as she threw her arms about my neck and gave me one eager embrace.
Her new-found happiness seemed to have given the little woman additional vigor.
Perhaps it was because life possessed more charms for her, or possibly she realized that our chances of success must be strengthened by a brave front on her part.
Be that as it may, I only know she needed no sustaining arm in leaving the cabin, though with the staggering floor under our feet I would not allow her to walk alone.
When we passed beyond the confines of the cabin and reached the deck, the scene that burst upon us was really the most melancholy in my whole experience.
I cannot imagine a picture more desolate than a brave vessel going to pieces on the rocks, with the rollers pounding her torn sides, and the forlorn passengers grouped about, waiting in painful and prayerful silence for that summons which may in all probability send them to final judgment.
The yacht was already battered out of all resemblance to the thing of beauty that had slipped so gayly over the waves a short time back. No marine fabric has as yet ever been constructed that could effectually hold out against the awful battering-ram of the aroused sea.
Every object had been broken from the deck and swept away—forward the hull was swimming with water, so that had the yacht slipped from the reef on which cruel fortune had impaled her she must have sunk like a plummet.
I turned an eager gaze toward the shore.
There our scanty hopes rested, and everything depended upon the distance and what lay between.
It was not very encouraging, to say the least—the shore was in plain sight, but between lay at least half a mile of boiling surf, leaping in foamy tipped waves that rolled and surged with resistless force, a whirlpool of wrath.
Alas! what meager chance had a frail human being amid such resistless forces?
I was in no humor to allow any weakness to get the upper hand; if ever I needed all the faculties nature had given me, it was then, when face to face with the crisis of my life.
There was something else to rivet my attention besides despair—I felt that this was my time to win my way back to paradise, or, failing, lose all that man held dear below.
What concerned me most of all lay in my opportunityto advance my cause. My worst fear was that I should be separated from this dear one, that she might be torn from my arms by the remorseless waves.
I had snatched up a coil of rope as I started to leave the cabin, something that had been forgotten by one of the men.
How could I secure Hildegarde to myself, so that we would be sure to remain united?
A heaven-born thought flashed into my head. I remembered a patent cork mooring-buoy I had purchased, intending to have it mark the spot where our anchor lay when we remained in a harbor for a time, making little trips here and there, to return again to our anchorage.
Leaving Hildegarde, with a hurried explanation of my purpose, I dashed once more into the cabin—the painted thing had never as yet been used, and had served merely as a decoration.
Tearing it loose and dragging it after me, I made once more for the door.
It was then the yacht rolled frightfully, quivering in every timber, like a stricken thing.
I was overwhelmed by the dreadful fear that the end had come, and Hildegarde was alone and unprotected.
Down went the buoy and I whirled through the rocked doorway to the deck, all my nerves wrought up to the utmost pitch; but, Heaven be praised! that shiver was not her last, and another chance remained. Hildegarde still crouched where I had left her, and I could go back for the buoy upon which my hopes depended.
So I brought it forth.
Had I been alone, it should have been for Diana—I would have scorned taking advantage of its floating powers; but Hildegarde came first, since she was all the world to me.
Gustavus was doing what he could under the directionsof Robbins; the night had brought out all that was grand in his disposition, and he stood there a hero, shorn of all the petty foppish ways in which he delighted to masquerade.
When I came to her again, the little woman gave a cry of pleasure that struck to my heart. She had the utmost faith in me and my ability to save her. Alas! I realized when I looked out upon that churning sea what a broken reed it was upon which she leaned.
Quickly I secured her to the buoy.
It would sustain her weight and might be the happiest thought of my life. Little did I think when carelessly purchasing it in a French maritime town to what blessed use it would eventually be put.
Then a portion of the rope was used to secure me to my precious charge.
I took off my shoes and tied them to my belt, that I might be the better able to exert my whole powers in the water.
The break-up had been providentially delayed; but none of us indulged in any false hopes; although the sea might not be so riotous as on the night before, it still possessed the cruel power to beat the racked frame of the yacht to splinters. So we only waited, eating our very hearts out in suspense.
At last the awful crisis burst upon us. I felt a tremendous shock, heard the crash and groan of timbers, caught Diana’s last despairing shriek, and had only time to clutch hold of Hildegarde when the waters engulfed us.