Hurricane Island

by H. B. Marriott Watson

The night was placid, and the sea like a smooth lake. When we had got some way out, and the sounds of the water on the yacht, together with the human noises of her crew, had faded, a singular silence fell. The plash of the oars was the only sound that broke on the ears. The air was soft and serene; nature seemed to have at last relented, and to be out of key with those tragic deeds committed on the sea. As I sat, passing such reflections in my mind, I heard a voice at my ear in French:

"But, Monsieur, where is my mistress?"

It was Juliette, faithful still. I had to explain, and she cried out in alarm, and then was silent. She was above all a practical woman, as I had gathered, and no doubt she saw the position. Mademoiselle was gone, and it was patent how she was gone. Holgate's words had put her fate beyond uncertainty. She was in the hands of the mutineers, but with what object I could not guess. Possibly, Holgate had some thought that she was privy to the hiding of the treasure. If he had, I knew better. But, meanwhile, whatever design he had, it was not likely that Mademoiselle was in danger. Probably, indeed, she was suffering less discomfort at the moment than she had endured during the last few hours. If we were destined to destruction by the mutineers, as I had no doubt, Holgate was biding his time. It might be that he still had some suspicion that one or more of us knew the secret he sought. So he held his hand.

Under Legrand's guidance, the boat grounded with a dull, soft, swishing noise on sand, and in the darkness we effected our landing. That done, it remained to conceal our craft in case of emergencies, which we succeeded in doing under a spreading patch of bushes well above the reach of the tides. Then the question of shelter faced us.

This part of the island appeared, from the trend of the ground, to move gently upwards among dwarf trees and shrubs, and, plunging almost at random in the night, we hit upon a knoll at the base of which was a hollow screened by some bushes. Here we decided to stay till the sun was up. Legrand helped Lane, who was badly fatigued, and Ellison made himself useful all round, paying complimentary attentions to the French maid. As for me, I am not ashamed to say that I had but one thought just then, and that was to render the Princess comfortable. I found some dry ferns and piled them up as a couch, so that she was protected from the hard, unyielding earth, and then I bade her sleep. She had not spoken since we had entered the boat, and she rendered herself submissively as a helpless child to my directions. She lay down, and I was aware that she was looking into the depth of heaven, where a few stars shone dimly. She was thinking of her brother, and (dear heart) I pitied her. I yearned towards her as a lover yearns to his mistress, with the single desire that he may comfort and solace and protect her. Ah, well! my secret had been no secret to me for many days. There was only one divine woman on earth, and she lay upon a rude couch in a savage island, under the naked stars, and stared disconsolately to heaven.

I fell asleep at last, and when I awoke, stiff from the earthy bed, the night was receding westward. The dawn was merging in pearls and gray, and a little light was suffused about the hollow. It was still warm. My companions slept, some tossing restlessly, but the Princess lay almost as if she had been sleeping under the hand of death. Her bosom moved regularly, her parted lips disclosed the even white of her teeth; she was safe from fears and immune from sorrows now at least, and I thanked God. I got up and pushed my way through the bushes towards the beach on which the high tide rumbled monotonously. Each moment the light grew stronger, and I had walked only a little way before I was enabled to make out the loom of the yacht some half-mile or more away. I mounted the rise behind our sleeping-place, and now perceived that the land ran upwards from where we were into a central ridge, dotted on the slopes with trees. On the south-easterly side the island appeared to be broken and to conclude in rocks, and here was where the Sea Queen lay, with a seaward list. It was plain, then, that so small a sanctuary would not offer us adequate protection from Holgate if he wished to pursue us, and my heart sank as I considered the position. Would he at the best leave us to our fate on the island? And if so, would that be more merciful than despatching us by the bullet of the assassin?

I returned to my companions to find Legrand and the French maid awake. Juliette was serviceable as of old. She inquired of me sweetly what chance her mistress had and took my assurances philosophically. She would do her duty, I was sure, but I doubted the depth of her affections. She came of sound, sensible peasant blood. And this was what was needed at the moment, for we had to see to some breakfast, Legrand agreed to mount guard while I went on an excursion of investigation along the north shore. Here I was hidden from the eyes of those on board the Sea Queen by the intervening range of hills. It took me just twenty minutes of strolling to reach the farther end of the island, where the barren rocks swarmed with gulls and other sea birds, from which you may draw some idea as to the dimensions of our domain. I obtained some sea-gulls' eggs from the nests on the rocks, having to beat off some of the infuriated creatures to secure my booty, and, thus supplied, returned to the camp. The remainder of the party were now awake, and Juliette prepared the eggs, roasting them in the sand by the aid of hot ashes. As we were well-nigh famished, I think we all ate with appetite, except the Princess, who was still very silent and listless.

"Princess," I said to her presently, "if a man lose half his treasure, will he then throw away the other half recklessly?"

She looked at me in wonder. "You have lost a brother," I continued, "but you have your own life which God gave you to guard."

"Yes," she said slowly, "I know you are right, but it is hard. I will try, but——" She shivered. "It is hard—so hard to forget. I live in a nightmare by day; it is only in sleep I can forget."