THE MOCKERY OF THE SUN

Stuart refused to talk to Nan, went abruptly to his stateroom, and spent a night of feverish dreams. His exhaustion was so acute, restful sleep was impossible. Through the night his mind went over and over the horror of the moment on that marsh when he had looked into the depths of his own soul and seen the flames of hell.

Between the times of dozing unconsciousness, which came at intervals, he wondered what had become of the two men in that disabled tender. He waited with dread the revelation the dawn would bring. He rose with the sun and looked out of his stateroom window. The bay was a solid sheet of glistening ice. The sun was shining from a cloudless sky and the great white field sparkled and flashed like a sea of diamonds.

What a mockery that sunshine! Somewhere out on one of those lonely marshes it was shining perhaps on the stark bodies of the two men who were eating and drinking and laughing the day before. What did Nature care for man’s joys or sorrows, hopes or fears? Beneath that treacherous ice the tide was ebbing and flowing to the throb of her even, pulsing heart. To-morrow the south wind would come and sweep it all into the sea again.

He wondered dimly if the God, from whose hands this planet and all the shining worlds in space had fallen, knew or cared? And then a flood of gratitude filled his soul at the thought of his deliverance from the shadow of crime. Instinctively his eyes closed and his lips moved in prayer:

“Thank God, for the sunlight that shines in my soul this morning and for the life that is still clean; help me to keep it so!”

Nothing now could disturb the serenity of his temper. He dressed hurriedly, went into the galley, made a fire and called Nan.

He rapped gently on the panelled partition which separated their staterooms. He could hear her low, softly spoken answer as if there were nothing between them.

“Yes, Jim, what is it? Are you ill?”

“No, hungry. You will have to help me get some breakfast.”

“The cook hasn’t come?” she asked in surprise.

There was a moment’s hesitation and his voice sounded queer when he quietly answered:

“No.”

She felt the shock of the thought back of his answer and he heard her spring out of bed and begin to dress hurriedly.

In ten minutes she appeared at the door of the galley, her hair hanging in glorious confusion about her face and the dark eyes sparkling with excitement.

“What on earth does it mean, Jim?” she asked breathlessly. “Cal could tell me nothing last night except that he had gotten wet and chilled and you had carried him on board against his protest. When the doctor put him to sleep with a lot of whiskey he was muttering incoherently about a quarrel he had with you. I thought you sent both tenders to the shore for mail and provisions. Why hasn’t the cook returned?”

“He may never come, Nan.”

“Why Jim!” she gasped.

“They started to tow us in, the engine broke down. I think the carbureter probably froze and they were driven before the wind, helpless. There’s a chance in a thousand that they reached an oyster shanty and found shelter. We’ll hope for the best. In the meantime you and I will have to learn to cook again, for a few days.”

“A few days!” Nan exclaimed.

“Yes. The bay is frozen. Our old guide is a good cook, but he’s safe in harbor ashore. He had too much sense to venture out last night. He can’t get here now until the ice breaks up.”

Nan accepted the situation with girlish enthusiasm, became Stuart’s assistant and did her work with a smile. It was a picnic. She laughed at the comical picture his tall figure made in a cook’s apron and he made her wear a waitress’ cap which he improvised from a Japanese paper napkin.

The doctor pronounced the meals better than he had tasted on the trip. Bivens was still in an ugly mood and refused to leave his stateroom or allow any one but the doctor to enter. He was suffering intense pain from his frost-bitten fingers and toes and ears, and still cherished his grudge against Stuart. He refused to believe there was the slightest necessity for such high-handed measures as he had dared to use. He had carefully concealed from both the doctor and Nan just what had occurred between them on the trip that day.

On the second morning after the freeze a light dawned on the little man’s sulking spirits. During the night the ice softened and a strong southerly breeze had swept every piece of it to sea.

Again the bay was a blue, shimmering mirror, reflecting the white flying clouds, and the marshes rang with the resounding cries of chattering wild fowl.

It was just nine o’clock, and Nan was busy humming a song and setting the table for breakfast, when Stuart heard the distant drum-beat of a tender’s engine. The guide was returning from the shore, or the lost tender had come. If it were the guide he would probably bring news of the other men. His course lay over their trail. He threw off his cook’s apron, put on his coat, sprang out of the galley, and called below:

“A tender is coming, Nan. Don’t come on deck until I tell you.”

The smile died from her beautiful face as she answered slowly:

“All right, Jim.”

In a moment he came back down the companion-way and spoke in quiet tones:

“It’s just as I expected. They are both dead. The guide found them on the marsh over there, frozen.”

“The marsh you and Cal were on?” she asked breathlessly.

“Yes. Both of them were kneeling. They died with their hands clasped in prayer.”

“And you saved Cal from that?” she gasped, and turning, fled into her stateroom.

He went in to change his clothes and help lift the bodies on deck. Through the panelled wall he heard Nan softly sobbing.

Bivens refused at first to believe the doctor’s startling announcement. He hurriedly dressed, came on deck, and for five minutes stood staring into the white, dead faces.

Without a word he went below and asked the doctor to call Stuart.

When his old friend entered, he took his hand quietly and for once in his life the little, black, piercing eyes were swimming in tears as he spoke.

“You’re a great man, Jim, and what’s bigger, you’re a good one. If God will forgive me for the foolish things I said and did yesterday, I’ll try to make it up to you, old boy. Is it all right?”

Stuart’s answer was a nod, a smile and a pressure of the hand.