The Red Derelict Part 35

"Well, it's behind _us_, at any rate," said Wagram, rising. "Let's hope it'll soon go to the bottom of its own accord. I suppose the thing can hardly keep afloat for ever."

To his fellow-pa.s.sengers Wagram was a sealed book, in that all conjectures as to his ident.i.ty and his circ.u.mstance failed. He was very reticent, and this they were at first inclined to resent; but a certain charm of manner and a never-failing courtesy to all quickly dispelled any idea that "side" might be the underlying motive of such reticence.

The fact that he had paid extra for the privilege of having a cabin to himself, and that nearly the best on the s.h.i.+p, seemed to throw some light upon his circ.u.mstances. Though reticent, however, about himself he could not exactly be called unsociable, for he would spend his evenings in the smoke-room, entering into the current chat over a pipe or so. But who he was, and where from--that n.o.body knew.

Not much inclined for sociability was he to-night. The incident of the derelict had brought back the past--the old happy past--and again he seemed to live through those bright sunny days at Hilversea, surrounded by all that made life joyous, and, underlying all, the ecstatic sense of possession. But now--! Well, his quest was ended. He had carried it out conscientiously, energetically, and--nothing had come of it.

No; nothing whatever. He had followed out Develin Hunt's directions to the letter--sparing not himself. He had betaken himself, always with care and absence of ostentation, to the locality in which that worthy had p.r.o.nounced his half-brother to be, but of the latter he could learn nothing. Once he had lighted on what seemed a clue, but it had ended in smoke. Then, acting upon another, he had taken s.h.i.+p for Australia, and had followed it up, with like result. Once more he had returned to South Africa, to meet again with no reward to his efforts. At last, baffled at every turn, he had concluded he might legitimately abandon the search, and so here we find him again on his way homeward.

His wanderings, although he had spared no expense towards the attainment of his object, had been undertaken on no luxurious lines. He had roughed it in strange wild places, had undergone real hards.h.i.+ps, and on occasions real peril, and the experience had hardened him. He was in splendid condition, dark, sunburnt, and as hard as nails. But now had come upon him a great home-sickness, and he was regretting the easy-going lack of foresight which had moved him to take pa.s.sage on board the _Baleka_ instead of upon one of the more crowded but swifter steams.h.i.+ps of the regular mail line.

Pacing the deck in the tropical starlight he recapitulated to himself the whole situation. All had gone below now, but he remained, as his custom was; the swirl of the phosph.o.r.escent lines from the stem of the s.h.i.+p; the m.u.f.fled clank of the engines; the weird, long-drawn cry of the lookout on the forecastle as the bells were struck every half hour--the sole accompaniment to his meditations. It all came back--the weeks of blank desolation following upon his father's death, and how the voice of conscience, proving stronger than that of his advisers, had spurred him forth upon his fruitless quest. Well, it had proved fruitless, which seemed to point to the certainty that his advisers had been right.

It all came back. The wrench of that uprooting--of tearing himself away from Hilversea, and all it involved; the farewells, too, though he had avoided these as much as possible--in cowardly fas.h.i.+on he now told himself. Haldane's hearty regrets and expectation to see him soon again; Yvonne's blue eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears, which the affectionate child was at no pains to conceal; the genuine grief of his humbler friends; the last Ma.s.s in the chapel; and the final shutting out of everything behind him as the carriage whirled him off to Ba.s.singham station in the murk of the winter day. Delia Calmour, too, whom he could not but think that he and his father and the indirect influences of their surroundings had been incidental, under Heaven, in guiding into the way of light. Poor child! He knew she would miss him, as he recalled the brave effort she had made to subdue all manifestation of the extent of her regret when he had bidden her good-bye; and he smiled to himself as he remembered certain arrangements which he had made with his solicitors providing that, in the event of anything happening to him, this girl whom he and his father had befriended should never be thrown upon the world to combat that uncompromising enemy with her own unaided resources.

Yes; Hilversea rose up before him now, fair, pleasant, restful in its suns.h.i.+ne as the very plains of heaven. Soon he would be within it again. He had trampled all considerations of self under foot and had followed the voice of conscience--and the result had been "As you were!"

Surely he had done enough. Clearly his stewards.h.i.+p was his still, and, Heaven help him, he would endeavour to fulfil it to the utmost of his power, and would teach his son to do the same after him. Gerard? He must have grown quite tall, he reflected. What a splendid-looking fellow he would be.

Pacing up and down, hour after hour, Wagram's thoughts ran too fast for his mind--and ever the silence, the swirl of the sea, and the streaking fall of a star in the murky tropical zenith. Then came a sudden jar, and a crash that s.h.i.+vered the s.h.i.+p from stem to stern. For a few moments this horrible jarring vibration continued, then the whole fabric gave a convulsive kind of heave, and the tremor ceased. All was still-- but the thrash of the propeller was no longer felt, no longer heard.

The throbbing of the engines had ceased--again.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

A SACRIFICE IN VAIN.

The solitary watcher realised instinctively that this time something was wrong. So, too, did the residue of his fellow-pa.s.sengers, for in an incredibly short s.p.a.ce of time they came swarming up from below in various stages of dress and undress--mostly the latter--and many and eager were the inquiries heard on every side, and anxiety was depicted on every face; while on others there was a look which spelt downright scare--these, too, by no means exclusively the property of the ornamental s.e.x.

There was some excuse for it; for to find oneself started out of one's sleep by a jarring shock, to realise that the vessel is no longer moving, to rush up on deck only to find her lying helpless on the black midnight sea, the hurried gait and speech of officers and crew, to the accompaniment of the hoa.r.s.e roaring of the steam pipes--all this is well calculated to try the nerves of the ordinary pa.s.senger; to conjure up visions of collision, or running on a rock, and the swift and sudden foundering with all hands.

"What is it? Are we ash.o.r.e? Have we collided?" were some of the questions uttered on every side, and from the more fearful: "Are we going to the bottom?"

"Going to the bottom? Of course not," snapped the chief officer, who had come up in time to catch this last query. "There's no cause for alarm. The propeller shaft has snapped, and we shall have to lie to and signal for a.s.sistance. Soon get it too; we're in the line of steamers.

Look! here goes the first."

The sharp hiss of a rocket rent the air as the fiery streak shot up high into the heavens, exploding with a reverberating boom. It was followed immediately by another.

"I came to tell you," he went on, "that the captain's orders are that all the pa.s.sengers go below. Wine and refreshments will be served in the saloon immediately."

"Then we _are_ going to the bottom," p.r.o.nounced one fool. Upon him the "chief" turned.

"Grub would be a rum sort of preparation for that, wouldn't it?" he said scathingly. And there was a laugh, though, truth to tell, somewhat of a hollow one.

In the saloon the grateful popping of corks was already audible, and on the tables the stewards were setting out bottles of champagne and gla.s.ses, while others were bringing in the materials for a cold supper.

When well through this the s.h.i.+p's surgeon announced that those who were not dressed had better get into all their clothing, and also collect any valuables they might possess, but that absolutely no luggage of any kind would be allowed. At the sound of the bugle all were to repair on deck.

No; there was no occasion for panic of any kind. Ample time would be afforded--"only, of course, they mustn't make it till next week,"

appended the doctor, by way of raising a laugh.

"That means the boats," p.r.o.nounced one man decidedly.

"Well, I'm for another go of 'the boy,'" reaching over for the nearest champagne bottle. "It may be long enough before we get another look in."

"It's all that d.a.m.ned derelict," said another. "I'm not superst.i.tious, but I wish to the Lord we'd never sighted her. I said so this afternoon."

"This afternoon? Why, it hasn't come yet," retorted the first. "Man, you might as well have said to-morrow."

Again there was a laugh--not much of a one--but the more they could laugh the better.

"Mr Wagram, I am dreadfully frightened," said Mrs Colville, to whose wants he had been attending. "Is there really much danger, do you think?"

"No. There's plenty of boat room--that's where we score off the overcrowded mail steamer. Why, it'll be quite an adventure to look back upon after we are picked up. Now, I think you had better collect whatever you may want to take--valuables, papers, anything of that kind.

And, it's time to dress the child."

"Oh, that won't take a minute. I've let her sleep as long as possible.

For the rest, I've hardly anything worth collecting. But you? You haven't been to bed, have you?"

"No; I was doing my usual midnight tramp on deck when the smash came.

Like yourself, I've nothing much to collect either."

She stole a look at him, and it was one of admiration--evoked not only by the tall, straight form and dark, refined, pensive face. His consummate coolness under the stress was what appealed to her now. Not one among the others but had shown some slight sign of flurry, or at any rate excitement beyond the ordinary. This one had not. Had they been planning a trip on sh.o.r.e at some port of call his tone and demeanour could hardly have been more even, more thoroughly composed.

"Are you a fatalist, Mr Wagram?" she said. "You treat all this as a matter of course."

"I am no sort of 'ist,'" he answered, with a smile. "Well--what?"

"Great heavens! I was forgetting," she said. "We won't be able to land anywhere. The captain told me if we were to go ash.o.r.e anywhere off here we'd very likely be eaten--by savages. He was telling me only this afternoon. Good heavens! what is to become of us?"

"The quarter you have just invoked twice will take care of that--never fear. Now go and waken Lily. I'll wait for you here."

Hardly had she left him than the bugle rang out. Its notes, almost like the trump of doom to some of the more frightened, came pealing down the companion-way, and immediately the saloon was filled with a scuffling crowd making for the upper air. Now more distant, in different quarters of the s.h.i.+p, its blast sounded again and again. Still Wagram sat motionless in his chair.

"Hallo! ain't you going up?" cried one of the last, thus seeing him.

"Man, but the bugle's gone again and again."

"I know it has," said Wagram calmly, finis.h.i.+ng off his gla.s.s; "I'm waiting for Mrs Colville."

The other went his way without another word. Wagram, thinking it about time to hurry up his _protege_, started in the direction of her cabin, and as he did so a pealing shriek of utter and complete despair brought his pulses to a momentary standstill.

The while, on deck, the more or less scared pa.s.sengers were quickly lined up in rows--the women and children apart. They, for their part, noticed two things: that the surface of the sea was much nearer than it had been the last time they had stood here--in fact, appallingly near; and that beside each boat stood its crew, just as they had seen them at ordinary Sat.u.r.day afternoon fire drill. A thick, sickly murk had settled overhead, shutting out the stars--and by the glare of the lanterns it might be seen that the s.h.i.+p was very low down in the stern indeed. The roaring of the steam had now ceased, and the great funnels towered above, white and ghostly. And now what had actually happened began to be whispered around. The propeller rod had snapped, and in snapping had fallen through the keel, ripping away plates, and tearing open a tremendous leak, through which the water had rushed with alarming rapidity. Then it was found that the watertight bulkheads were of no use. The doors had somehow got jammed, and would not close. During all the time that the coolness and forethought of the captain and officers had utilised by sending the pa.s.sengers below for some final refreshment the s.h.i.+p had been slowly settling.

The expedient had been a good one. To that degree invigorated, the pa.s.sengers, lined up there, were less susceptible to panic, and the work of loading the boats and lowering went on with clockwork regularity and order.

That shriek had the effect upon Wagram of the lash on a racehorse. He sprang in the direction whence it proceeded. Mrs Colville's cabin was at the end of a long pa.s.sage out of which other cabins opened, and now he found her standing in the doorway of hers with an awful look upon her ashy face.

"Lily. My little one. She's gone!" she screamed at sight of him.

"Gone?"

"Yes. She isn't here. Oh, G.o.d! Oh, G.o.d! Where is she?"