Then he fell to making every kind of signal which he could devise when unprovided with the means of attracting her attention either by pistol-shot or fire, and in about half an hour they had the joy of seeing one of her cutters manned and lowered, and, a moment later, making for the shore.
The cruiser turned out to be the Clytie, on her way home from Calcutta to Plymouth, and, even as the cutter fetched the shore, the coxswain recognised Gilbert as an officer with whom he had previously served. Then he furnished him with the intelligence that he was reported dead.
'Not yet,' said Gilbert; 'though, since I left the Briseus, when in charge of her whaler, I have had two narrow escapes. Unfortunately, others, with whom I have been in company, are so.' Then, briefly, he told the man all that had happened to him, and stated that he was going to ask the captain of the Clytie for a passage for himself and his future wife, the young lady by his side.
First, however, there was one thing to be done--namely, to bury Stephen Charke in the place which he had indicated. This was a thing which would now be very easy of accomplishment, since the sea was perfectly calm again and the body could be easily carried from the spot where he had fallen to that where he desired to be buried. But, to begin with, the permission of the captain had to be obtained, which was done by signalling, and then the rest was easy. Some more men were sent off in the second cutter, with the chaplain as well as some spades for digging a grave, after which the sailors marched under Gilbert's command to where he and Bella had covered up Stephen Charke's remains with palm and other leaves that were within their reach, and then removed the body. And very reverently was the interment performed, all standing round the spot with the exception of Bella, who was so overcome that she had to be led away from the grave.
And so they laid him in it; and there, in the little solitary island, they left him to his long sleep.
Perhaps, nothing so much as his death--not even his heroism in the stricken ship, nor his masterful strength in fighting the storm and the waves, and in succeeding at the risk of his own life in saving that of the woman whom he so tenderly loved--kept his memory green in both their hearts. Perhaps, too, that last sacrifice which he made--his life!--at the moment when once more he was preserving hers, furnishes the reason which again and again prompts Gilbert to say to his wife, in a voice always full of a tone of regret for the brave man who lies so far away:
'After all, Bella, I am not sure that you chose the right one. Poor Stephen Charke was the better man of the two.'
Yet, when he observes the glance she gives him in return, he is comforted by knowing that, in no circumstances, could that other have ever won her heart as he did.
FOOTNOTES
[Footnote 1]: This is not fictitious. M. Constant made his speech to the Chamber of Deputies on June 17, 1820, and it contained all attributed to it above. It described how the crew of Le Rôdeur were themselves struck down one by one soon after the outbreak among the slaves, how many of the slaves were flung overboard to save the cost of supporting them, and also how, while the ship was subject to this terrible calamity, a Spanish slaver, named the Leon, spoke her, asking for assistance, as almost every one on board her was stricken with sudden blindness. Le Rôdeur, the account went on to say, eventually reached Guadaloupe with only one man left who was not smitten, and he became blind directly after he had brought the vessel into harbour. The Spaniard was never heard of again.