WHICH BRINGS IN THE DAY AND WHAT BEFELL THEREIN

It was just after dawn that Miss Ruth came up from her room below and found me at my lonely post on the plateau of the watch-tower rock.Dolly Venn was fast asleep by that time, and Peter Bligh and the carpenter no less willing for a spell of rest. I had sent them to their beds when it was plain to me that, whatever might come after, the night had nothing more in store for us; and though heavy with sleep myself I put it by for duty’s sake.

Now, I was watching all alone, my rifle between my knees and my eyes upon the breaking skies, when I heard a quick step behind me, and, turning round, I saw Miss Ruth herself, and felt her gentle hand upon my shoulder.

“I couldn’t sleep, Jasper,” said she, a little sadly I thought. “You are not angry with me for being here, Jasper?”

It blew cold with the dawn, and I was glad to see that she had wrapped her head in a warm white woollen shawl for these little things stick in a man’s memory and that her dress was such as a woman might wear in that bleak place. She had dark rings about her eyes which I have always said could look at you as the eyes of no other woman in all the world; and I began to think how odd it was that we two, whom fortune had cast out to this lonely rock together, should have said so little to each other, spoken such rare words since the ship put me ashore at the gate of her island home.

“Miss Ruth,” said I, “it’s small wonder what you tell me. This night is never to be forgotten by you and I, surely. Sometimes, even now, I think that I am dreaming it all.Why, look at it. Not two months ago I was in London hiring a ship from Philips, Westbury, and Co.You, I believed, were away in the Pacific, where all things beautiful should be. I saw you, Miss Ruth, in an island home, happy and contented, as it was the wish of us all that you should be. There were never lighter hearts on a quarterdeck than those which set out to do your bidding. ‘It’s Miss Ruth’s fancy,’ we told ourselves, ’that her friends should bring a message from the West, and be ready to serve her if she has the mind to employ them.’ What other need could we think of? Be sure no whisper of this devil’s house or of yonder island where honest men will die to-day was heard by any man among us. We came to do your bidding as you had asked us. It was for you to say ‘go’ or ‘stay.’We never thought what the truth would be even now it seems to me a horrid nightmare which a man remembers when he is waking.”

She drew a little closer to me, and stood gazing wistfully across the westward seas, beyond which lay home and liberty. Perchance her thoughts were away to the pretty town of Nice, where she had given her love to the man who had betrayed her, and had dreamed, as young girls will, of all that marriage and afterwards might mean to her.

“If it were only that, Jasper,” she said, slowly, “just a dream and nothing more! But we know that it is not. Ah, think, if these things mean so much to you, what they have meant to me. I came away from Europe believing that heaven would open at my feet. I said that a good man loved me, and I gave myself heart and soul to him. Just a silly little girl I was, who never asked questions, and trusted yes, trusted all who said they loved her. And then the truth, and a weary woman to hear it! From little things which I would not see, it came speaking to me in greater things which I dare not pass by, until I knew knew the best and the worst of it! And all my castles came tumbling down, and the picture was shut out, and I thought it was forever. The message I spoke to the sea would never be answered, or would be answered when I no longer lived to hear it spoken. Do you blame a woman’s weakness? Was I wrong to believe that you would forget the promise?”

“I never forgot it, Miss Ruth,” was my answer, “never for a moment. ‘May-be,’ said I to Peter Bligh, ’she’ll laugh when I go ashore; may-be but it is a thousand to one against that she’ll have need of me.’ When I saw Ken’s Island looming off my port-bow, why I said, ’It’s just such a picture of a place as a rich man would pitch upon for an island home. It’s a garden land,’ said I, ’a sunny haven in this good Pacific sea.’ Judge how far I was from the truth, Miss Ruth, how little I knew of this prison-house that, God helping me, shall stand open to the world before many days have come and gone.”

She was silent for a spell, for her eyes were searching the distant island, and she seemed to be scanning its fog-bound heights and misty valleys as though to read that secret of the night of which I hoped no man had told her.

“The ship that came ashore last night, Jasper?” she asked, of a sudden.“What have they done to the ship?”

I put my hand upon her arm and led her forward to the sea’s edge, whence we could espy both the sword-fish reef and the ashes of her bungalow at the island’s heart. The day had broken by this time, quick and beautiful as ever in the Pacific Ocean. Sunny waves rolled up to our very feet. There were glittering caps of rock gleaming above the island of death. Czerny’s yacht lay, the picture of a ship, eastward in the offing. The longboats, twelve of them, and each loaded with its devil’s crew, drifted round and round the master’s ship; but never a man that went aboard from them.

“The ship,” said I, “is where many a good ship has gone before: a thousand fathoms down by yonder cruel reef. As for those that sailed her, they live or die on Ken’s Island, mistress. Last night in my watch I heard them crying like wild beasts that hunger drives. Those who do not sleep to-day herd together on yonder beach.I counted nine of them not half an hour since.”

She tried to see with me, looking across the water; and presently she said:

“There are men there and women, too oh, Jasper, think of it, women!”

“Ah!” said I, “I have been thinking of it for an hour or more, ever since I first made a signal to them. So much comes of being a seaman, who can speak to folks when others are dumb. If they read my message aright, they’ll not stay on Ken’s Island to sleep, be sure of it; but I doubt that they’ll dare it, Miss Ruth.Poor souls; their need is sore, indeed!”

“And our own, Jasper,” says she, “is our own less? You are brave men, and you have all a woman’s trust and gratitude; but, Jasper, when my husband comes, what will you say to him? They are a hundred and we are but five, shut up in this prison of the sea! We may live here forever and no help come to us. We may even die here, Jasper. There are things I will not either name or think of. But, oh, Jasper,” says she, “if we could save those poor people!”

It was always thus with her nine thoughts for others and not the half of one for herself.What she meant by the things she would not name or speak of, I could hardly guess; but it was in my head that she meant to indicate the corridors below and that unknown danger which iron doors shut down.I had been a clearer-headed man that morning if I could have put away from me my doubt of what the depths were hiding from us. But I hid it from her always.A truce of self-deception shut out the question as one we neither cared to hear nor answer.

“Miss Ruth,” said I, speaking very slowly, “those people have a boat, for you can see it on yon sands. Let them find the courage to float it, and it is even possible that Dolly Venn and I can do the rest. We should be thirteen men then, and glad of the number. I won’t hide it from you that we are a pitiful handful to face such a horde as lingers yonder. Why, think of it. Your husband keeps them off the yacht, that’s clear to a child’s eye. What harbour, then, is open to them? The island yes, there’s that! They can go and sleep the death-sleep on the island, as many an honest man before them. But they will have something to say to Czerny first if I know anything of their quality!Our plight is bad enough; but I wouldn’t be in your husband’s shoes to-day for all the money in London City. We may pull through there would be rasher promises than that; but Edmond Czerny will never see a white man’s town again no, not if he lives a hundred years!”

“It would be justice, God’s justice,” said she, very slowly; “there is that in the world always, Jasper. Whatever may be in store for me, I should like to think that I had done my duty as you are doing yours.”

“We won’t talk of that;” said I; “the day is dark, but the sunshine follows after. Some day, in some home across the sea, we’ll tell each other how we held Ken’s Island against a hundred. It may be that, dear friend; God knows, it may be that!”

It was five o’clock in the morning by my watch when I signalled for the second time to the people on the beach, and half-past five when first they answered me. Until that time I had not wished to awake Dolly Venn or Mister Bligh; but now when it began to come to me that I might, indeed, save these poor driven folks and add to the garrison which held the house, sleep was banished from my eyes and I had the strength and heart of ten. No longer could I doubt that my signals were seen and read by some sailor on that distant shore. Driven out, as they must have been, by the awful fogs which loomed over Ken’s Island, gasping for their lives at the water’s edge, who shall blame their hesitation or exclaim upon that delay? Over the sea they beheld a white flag waving. Was it the flag which friend or foe had raised? There, from that craggy rock, help was offered them. Could they believe such good fortune, those who seemed to have but minutes to live?

Well, Dolly Venn came up to me, and Peter Bligh, half awake from sleep; and all standing together (Seth Barker keeping watch below) I told them how we stood and pointed out that which might follow after.

“There’ll be no attack from Czerny’s men with the light,” said I; “for so much is plain reason. If there’s murder done out yonder, look for it on Czerny’s yacht when his friends would go aboard. Why, see, lads, there are a hundred and twenty men, at the lowest reckoning, drifting yonder in open boats. Who’s to feed them, who’s to house them? They can go ashore on Ken’s Island and dance to the sleep-music; but they are not the sort to do that, from what we’ve seen of them! No, they’ll have it out with Edmond Czerny; they’ll want to know the reason why! And let the wind blow more than a capful,” said I, “and by the Lord above me not a man among them will see to-morrow’s sun! Does that put heart into you, Peter, or does it not? There are folks to save over there, Peter Bligh,” says I, “and we’ll save them yet!” His reply was an earnest “God grant it!” and from that moment the sleep left his eyes, and standing by my side, as he had stood many a day on the bridge of the Southern Cross, he began to read the signals and to interpret them aloud as the old-time duty prompted him.

“Eight men and a woman, and one long-boat,” says he; “sickness among them and no arms. ’Tis to know if they shall put off now or wait for the dark. You’ll be answering that, captain.”

“Let them come, let them come,” said I; “how’s the dark to help them?Will they live a day in the fogs we know of? And what sort of a port is Ken’s Island in the sleep-time for any Christian man? If Czerny murders them on the high seas, so much the more against him when his day comes. Let them come, Peter, and the Lord help them, poor wretches!”

I was using my arms with every word, and trying to make my meaning clear to the poor folks on the beach. So far they had been content to answer me with questions; but now, all at once, they ceased to signal, and a black object riding above the surf told me that they had risked all and were afloat, be the danger what it might. At the same moment a sharp cry from Dolly Venn turned my eyes to Czerny’s yacht; and I saw his devils rowing their boats for the open water of the bay, and I knew that murder was in their minds, and that the hour had come when every veil was to be cast aside and their purpose declared against all humanity.

“Clear the gun and stand by,” was my order to the others; “we’ll give them something to take home with them, and it sha’n’t be pippins! Can you range them, Dolly, or must you wait? There’s no time to lose, my lad, if honest lives are to be saved this day.”

He went to work without a word, charging his magazine and training the gun eastwards towards the advancing boats. If he did not fire at once, it was because he doubted his range; and here was his difficulty, that by sweeping round to the east and coming at the refugees upon a new course, Czerny’s lot might yet cheat us and do the infernal work they intended. Indeed, the poor people in the longboat were just racing for their lives; and whether we could help them or whether they must perish time alone would show. Yard by yard, painfully, laboriously, they pushed towards the rock; yard by yard the devil’s crew were bearing down upon them. And still Dolly kept his shot; the gun had nothing to say to them.No crueller sight you could plan or imagine. It was as though we were permitting poor driven people to be slaughtered before our very eyes.

“Fire, Dolly, lad!” cried I, at last “fire, for pity’s sake! Will you see them die before our very eyes?”

His fingers trembled upon the gun.He had all the heart to do it; but still he would not fire.

“I can’t,” says he, half mad at his confession; “the gun won’t do it it’s cruel, captain cruel to see it they’re half a mile out of range. And the others dropping their oars.Look at that. A man’s down, and another is trying to take his place ”

It was true as I live. From some cause or other, I could only surmise, the longboat lay drifting with the tide and one of Czerny’s boats, far ahead of its fellows, was almost atop of her.

“They’re done!” cries Peter Bligh, with an oath, “done entirely.God rest their souls. They’ll never make the rock ”

We believed it surely. The refugees were done; the pirates had unsheathed their knives for the butcher’s work. I saw no human help could save them; and saying it a voice from the open door behind me gave the lie to Peter Bligh, and named a miracle.

“’Tis the others that need your prayers, Mister Bligh Czerny’s lot are sinking sure ”

I looked round and found Seth Barker at my elbow. His orders had been to watch the gate of the corridor below. I asked him what brought him there, and he told me something which sent my heart into my mouth.

“There’s knocking down below and strange voices, sir. No danger, says Mister Gray, but a fact you should know of. Belike they’ll pass on, sir, and please God they’ll leave the engine for their own sakes.”

“Does Mister Gray say that?” asked I. “Does he fear for the engine?”

“If it stops, we’re all dead men for want of breath, the doctor says.”

“Then it sha’n’t stop,” said I, “for here’s a man that will open the trap if two or twenty stand below.”

He had quickened my pulse with his tale, for the truth of it I could not deny; and it seemed to me that danger began to close in upon us, turn where we might, and that the outcome must be the worst, the very worst a man could picture. If I had any satisfaction, any consolation of that wearing hour, it was the sight I beheld out there upon the hither sea, where Czerny’s boat drifted upon its prey yet so drifted that a child might have said, “She’s done with; she’s sinking.”

“Flushed, by all that’s wonderful,” cries Peter Bligh, with a tremendous oath; “aye, down to oblivion, and an honest man’s curse go with you. The rogue’s done, my lads; she’s done for, certain.”

We stood close together and watched the scene with burning eyes. Dolly Venn chattered away about a shot that must have struck the boat last night and burst her seams. I cared nothing for the reasons, but took the facts as the sea showed them to me. Be the cause what it might, those who would have dealt out death to the refugees were going down to eternity now, their arms in their hands, their mad desire still to be read in every gesture.When the truth came swift upon them, when the seas began to break right in across their beam, then, I say, they leaped up mad with fear, and then only forgot their prey. For think what that must have meant to them, the very boat sinking beneath them; their comrades far away; the waves lapping their feet; the sure knowledge that they must die, every man of them within hail of those very woods wherein so many had perished for their pleasure. Aye, it came upon them swiftly enough, and the good boat, making a brave effort to battle with the swell, went down headlong anon, and the cries of twelve drowning men echoed even in the distant island’s hills. That which had been a placid sea with two ships’ boats was still a placid sea though but one boat swam there.I beheld horrible faces looking upward through the blinding spindrift; I saw arms thrust out above the foam-flecked waters; I witnessed all that fearful struggle for life and air and the sun’s bright light; and then, aye, then the scene changed awfully, and silence came upon all, and the sun was still shining, and the untroubled deep lapped gently at our feet.

The twelve had perished; but the nine were saved. Stand awe-struck as we might, seeing the hand of God in this deliverance, the truth of it remained to put new heart into us and to hide that scene from our eyes. There, pursued no longer, was the island boat. Glad voices hailed us, wan figures stood up to clasp our hands; we lifted a woman to the rocks; we ran hither, thither, for help and comfort for them. But nine in all, they were our human salvage, our prize, our treasure of honest lives. And we had snatched them from the brigand crew, and henceforth they would stand with us, shoulder to shoulder, until the day were won or lost and Ken’s Island gave up its mysteries, or gathered us for that last great sleep-time from which there is no waking.