We heard his voice, now, sharply raised, as if in a final attempt to quell the other's insistence.
"But we aren't going to stop here, I tell you! There's nothing to stop for, no place to call...."
"Not going to stop?..." Devereux repeated wildly. He turned toward the rail, holding his arms stiffly outstretched in a gesture of utter distraction. Who can imagine the thoughts that leaped through his brain at that moment, or fathom the depths of the disappointment that suddenly crushed his already broken mind?
"Look out" cried Nichols at my elbow "Don't let him get away!"
But it was already too late; Devereux had heard the warning, too, and accepted it as a challenge. With a wild cry that seemed to tremble among the upper sails and echo back from the wooded heights of the island, he leaped forward, dodging the mate, and gained the bulwarks just abaft the fore preventor backstay. For an instant he stood there, silhouetted against the bright track of the moonlight, confronting the vision that was reality—then plunged with a magnificent abandon, and disappeared under the silvery surface of the water.
We saw him strike out toward the island. The ship forged ahead, carrying the moon-track with her; before we could get out a boat, he had vanished in the shrouded wastes astern. We sought for a night and a day, but could find no trace of his body. In that swift current setting seaward, it was impossible that he could have reached the land.
SERVANT AND MASTER
SERVANT AND MASTER
I
"Steward!"