He ate ravenously, in stubborn silence. When she spoke to him, he replied in low monosyllables. His eyes seemed to avoid her searching, inquiring gaze. Once she happened to turn quietly and she caught him staring at her in a strange way. His manner somewhat intimidated her. She wondered if she could possibly have done or said something to displease him.
It grew lighter every minute, but the day promised to be gloomy. The sun was invisible behind a bank of mist, and the entire sky was overcast. It looked like rain. There was a damp chill in the air. The weather seemed in harmony with Armitage's unaccountable behavior. Grace felt chilled herself. She had a presentiment that something was about to happen. Whether it would affect her or him she did not know, but instinct told her that danger of some kind threatened.
Something troubled her companion, that was certain. What its nature was, she could not guess. She had never seen him so moody or acting so strangely. But, unwilling to put herself in the delicate position of asking for confidence he withheld, she desisted from any further questioning, and, leaving him alone, went to her cabin. She was exhausted from her long vigil and it was not many minutes after she threw herself down on the bed before she was fast asleep.
When she awoke he was gone. He had disappeared mysteriously, just as he had the first time, without leaving a word behind or a single indication to tell where he was going, or how long he would be away. Yet he had not entirely forgotten her. He had brought a fresh supply of spring water, and before the door of her cabin she found some freshly caught fish and a new supply of plantains.
Refreshed after her sleep, Grace went cheerfully about her usual morning tasks. She tidied her cabin, took her sea bath, and prepared the noonday meal. So busy was she that Armitage's new absence remained unnoticed. In fact, she dismissed him from her mind. If she thought of him at all it was to wonder vaguely what ailed him, and speculate idly how long his mood would last. By the time the sun was directly overhead, her work was done. Armitage not having returned, she ate her meal alone.
It was no use waiting around any longer, so she started, after dinner, for Mount Hope. For two days she had not paid her regular visit to the signal-fire. She felt a sense of guilt, as if she had neglected the one thing which alone could save her.
It was a difficult, laborious climb up the hill, and she was compelled to rest several times on the way to the summit. She looked up as she went, trying to catch a glimpse of the smoke that was announcing to the whole universe that two human beings were in need of immediate relief. She could not see the smoke, owing to the projecting rocks which hid the summit from view. At the next turn she would come in sight of it. Up and up she went, out of breath.
Every now and then she halted and looked back. At this height, fully 500 feet above the sea, she commanded a superb view of the entire island. A few barren rocks connected by grassy and thickly wooded plateaus, it made but a speck on the surface of the wide ocean. Below, under the shelter of the tall cliffs, she saw their two cabins nestling under the trees. Thinking she might catch a glimpse of Armitage, she strained her eyes in every direction. But he was nowhere to be seen. There was not a sign of life anywhere. Not a human voice, not the bark of a dog. Even the birds were dumb. Perfect stillness reigned, as in the habitation of the dead.
Never so well as now had she realized their complete isolation. Her heart sank. Even if a vessel passed, how could she hope that an islet as small as this would be noticed? A sailing-master would not think for a minute that it harbored survivors of a shipwreck. Their only chance of attracting attention was the signal-fire.
"Thank God," she murmured, "that we had the means to light a fire. It has never been allowed to go out. Night and day it sends out its wireless message for aid!"