night was falling fast as howard and dorothy, with jackson close behind, made their way slowly back to the queen over the tangled wreckage, following the trail blazed by howard two days before. the joyces had promised to join them later.
except for necessary help and caution about the road, the three walked and climbed for the most part in silence, each immersed in thought. only once did dorothy speak.
“captain forbes said that his men had taken possession of the queen and were removing her stores,” she warned. “do you think he was telling the truth?”
howard shook his head. “probably not,” he answered. “but we shall see.”
the queen came in view at last, and each of the three thrilled at sight of her familiar form. wrecked, ruined, half-sunken,[177] nevertheless she stood to all three as a home and place of refuge, however insecure. glad as they had been to leave her, they were far gladder to return and find her untouched. for forbes had been lying.
with the touch of the deck beneath their feet, a feeling of embarrassment descended on the three. on the way over they had been silent because they were thinking; now they were silent because of the strange new relation in which they stood to each other. even jackson was conscious of it, and stammered and hesitated when he tried to speak; while dorothy’s flushed cheeks and quivering lips showed that the nerves which had so well sustained her while necessity lasted, were on the verge of giving way.
fortunately supper had to be prepared and served and eaten, and these familiar tasks relieved the tension somewhat. even then no one dared to speak of what had occurred, though no one thought of[178] anything else. the thing lay too close to their hearts to be lightly or easily broached. at last jackson, with glances at his two companions, threw down his knife and fork and slouched out of the saloon without a word.
left alone, the girl and the man looked at each other, she with trembling lips and lovely, frightened eyes, and he with an infinite compassion in his face.
“you want to say something to me?” he questioned, gently. “say it. don’t be afraid. you will find that i can understand.”
tears welled in dorothy’s eyes. “to-day,” she murmured, brokenly, “i made a bargain. i saw myself trapped, driven into marriage with a man whom i loathed—oh, god only knows how i had come to loathe him! anything was better than he—anything! so i made my offer. i would be a loyal wife to any man who would save me from captain forbes. you answered.”
[179]“i answered.”
“you are a much smaller man than captain forbes. no one would have thought you a match for him, least of all himself. he meant to kill you. there was murder in his eye. you must have seen it. yet you faced him. why did you do it?”
howard shrugged his shoulders. “you make too much of the affair,” he said, lightly. “the man was strong, but he was past his first youth and moved slowly. after the first two minutes i had no fear of the result. but you ask me why i came forward. what else could any gentleman do—and, in spite of my trial and conviction, i trust i am still a gentleman. i came forward because i had to.”
“then you did not fight for the poor prize i offered?”
howard smiled. “assuredly not,” he answered. “why, you yourself saw that i was ready to fight again a moment later to avoid taking it!”
[180]“but you took it.”
“yes—i took it.”
“and now i ask you to give it up again. i—i—mr. howard, i have heard of you for two years. you have been painted very black in my eyes. i have known you two weeks, and they have reversed the picture. i should not have looked for generosity in the man i once thought you to be, but i beg it from the man i have found you to be. i am your wife. i have promised before god to be loyal, loving, and obedient to you. i made that promise with my eyes open, and if you ask it i shall try to keep it. i am not of those who take their marriage vows lightly. i am your wife and i am wholly at your mercy. but—but—you do not love me nor i you. we are mere acquaintances. do not—oh, it is hard for me to say this. have pity on me. hold me, not as your wife, as i must hold myself, but as only a poor girl in distress, and—see, i kneel to you——”
[181]howard caught her hands and drew her to her feet again. “poor little girl,” he murmured gently. “so that is what is troubling you! do not fear. you are my wife—yes. but it is a tie that can easily be sundered when once we get back to dry land. a marriage like this is no marriage without the after-consent of the parties. any court in the land would dissolve it—or, more likely, declare it null and void from the beginning. do not fear. you are quite safe with me.”
dorothy’s breath came fast, but she did not speak. she tottered and put her hand out for support. howard guided her to a chair.
“sit quietly for a moment,” he ordered gently. “i must see jackson about something, but i will soon be back and help you to your state-room. you must be worn out.”
with the last word he turned and went up the companionway, more to give the girl time to recover herself than because[182] of any desire to see jackson. as he reached the top of the stairs his foot struck something, and he stooped and picked up a pistol wrapped round with a half-sheet of paper.
wonderingly he took it to the lamp. he read:
i know where forbes keeps his rifles. mrs. joyce is going to get some of them for us. i’m going back to help. i leave my pistol in case i don’t get back. anyhow, i guess you’d rather be alone to-night.
jackson.
p.s.—that was a great match.—j.
howard laughed bitterly. then he turned and descended the stairs.
“jackson has gone on an errand to mrs. joyce,” he said. “he left his pistol for you. after what has happened, he thinks, and i think, that you had better be armed. if any man—if any man molests you do not hesitate to use it. i believe you told me once that you were rather a good shot.”
it had been no part of howard’s intention to spend the night upon the queen.[183] he had no faith in forbes’s protestations of fair play, and felt certain that he would hear from that individual very shortly and in unpleasant fashion. although he scarcely expected any attack that night, doubting forbes’s ability to bring his men to the fighting point so speedily, he intended to take no chances, and to seek sleeping quarters on some near-by vessel. but dorothy’s fear of himself and her very evident nearness to collapse, taken with jackson’s unexpected departure, had knocked his plans completely on the head.
after dorothy had retired, he sat up for some time considering the situation. he was terribly sore and wearied from the heart-breaking struggle of the afternoon, which had been nothing like so easy as he had portrayed it to dorothy. coming on top of the anxiety of his confinement, in ignorance of what was happening to the girl he had promised to restore to her home, it had nearly worn him out.[184] the question that presented itself to him was whether he should trust to his belief in forbes’s inability to resume the struggle so quickly, and take his much-needed rest so as to be ready for the probable stress of the morrow, or whether he should remain on watch all night and thereby be less efficient the next day, supposing the contest were put off till then.
doubts and difficulties lay in each alternative, but he finally decided to sleep while he could, trusting to his life-long ability to awake fully and instantly at the slightest unaccustomed sound. he did not believe that forbes and his men could steal upon him without waking him; and, in any event, he could not hope, alone and unarmed, to keep them off the ship.
so, after stringing several ropes across the gangway in the deepest shadows of the queen’s deck, he slipped into his state-room, just across the corridor from dorothy’s, and lay down, fully dressed, with an axe—his sole weapon, since he[185] had given dorothy jackson’s pistol—close beside him. in an instant he was fast asleep.
he was aroused several hours later by a sound whose cause he had no difficulty in interpreting. somebody had tripped over one of the ropes he had stretched, and had fallen. instantly he was on his feet, axe in hand, and was cautiously opening his door. stillness now reigned, but howard had no doubt that murder was stalking close at hand.
with infinite precaution he stole from the room, noted that dorothy’s door was still fast, and slipped like a shadow along the corridor. it took him half an hour to gain the other deck, scarcely fifty feet from where he had slept. but when he had done so, he was certain that no foes lurked in his rear.
the moon loomed huge in the cloudless sky as he peered from the door of the social hall. before him the deck stretched away, silvery-white except where criss-crossed[186] by the black shadows cast by the stanchions that supported the half-furled awnings, and by the narrow border of shadow cast by the awnings themselves.
slowly he crept out into the black border and made his way forward, eager to front the danger, whatever it might be.
but all was still save for a very faint, rustling sound impossible to locate—a sound like dry leaves whisking through a november night; a sound that made howard’s hair stir upon his head. at two o’clock in the morning courage is rare, and never perfect.
still howard crept on until he reached a spot where a broken boat-davit was twisted across a stanchion. by this he paused and stood listening.
then, without warning, the attack came. from the cross-beam overhead something fell upon him with cruel force—something heavy, crushing, deadly; some live thing that wrapped him round and round.
with a half-strangled shriek of terror[187] he caught himself back against the crossed davit and the stanchion, just in time to involve them in the coiling horror. his right arm, instinctly thrown aloft, grasped vainly at the throat of a huge serpent whose darting head cut fantastic silhouettes against the milky way, while its body tightened swiftly about his middle.
had it not been for the iron rods that shielded him, howard’s first cry would have been his last. to the great snake the resistance of a man’s body was as nothing. one unhampered constriction of its mighty coils would have crushed an ox. but the davit and the stanchion stood firm; not for nothing had they been planned to withstand the assaults of the sea. they held firm, while howard, with starting eyeballs and slowly crushing chest, strove to beat back the forked death that flicked about his face.
the end could not be long deferred; yet the man fought on, as living things[188] will fight for life—life so common, life so cheap, yet so desperately clung to. he fought and shrieked until the ever-tightening constriction stopped the inflation of his lungs; till the roaring in his ears swelled to thunder; till the driven blood burst from his ears and nostrils.
then came a flash and a louder roar; the gleaming eyes that confronted him grew suddenly dull; the great coils relaxed and fell away; dimly he saw dorothy’s face; her gown white in the moonlight; the smoking pistol in her hand.
then girl and snake and moon and sky blended in one common blur of blackness. for the first time in his life frank howard fainted.
when he came to, he was lying on the deck, with his head in dorothy’s lap. on his face her tears dropped slowly, one by one. as, dazed, he lay still for an instant, he heard her pray:
“oh, god! god!” she sobbed, “give him back to me! give my darling back to me.”
[189]a mad throb of exultation crossed through howard’s veins to be followed by a quicker revulsion. “not yet, oh, god!” he implored in his turn silently. “not until——”
he opened his eyes and looked up into hers.
the moonlight was white and bright as day, and for one moment each looked deep into the other’s heart.
“thank god! oh, thank god!” sobbed the girl. “you’re alive! alive! alive!”
howard tried to smile. “thanks to you,” he answered. “it was the bravest act i have ever known. i don’t see how——”
but dorothy threw up her hand. “please! please, don’t speak of it!” she implored. “i can’t bear it. i can’t bear it.”
howard struggled to his feet. he longed to take her in his arms and comfort her, but honor held him back. perhaps she loved him—yes, but she was overwrought. he could not take advantage[190] of her emotion—nor of her position. later, when she was restored to her friends—the light died from his eyes as he remembered his own doom.
“thank you,” he said softly. “it is all that i can say. thank you.”
dorothy’s bosom heaved. “no,” she said, “it is not all. you said more while you were unconscious. you were about to say more an instant ago. then you stopped. why?”
“i—i——”
“i could read your heart in your eyes. say what you had in it. say it! say it!”
“i am not worthy. i am——”
“hush! not that! you are not guilty. you could not be guilty. you! so brave, so tender, so sacrificing! you! to murder a woman. it is not true. since the day i first met you i have never believed it. since you told me the story, i have wanted no other testimony. now, will you say what was in your heart a moment ago?”
[191]“i cannot. i——”
“listen. to-night i said that we were mere acquaintances. i said i did not love you. i lied! i do love you. with all my heart and soul i love you.”
“dorothy!”
“frank! husband!”
