“But it is folly. He is the captain. He should not go. We have risked enough already. Who are these men for whose sake he leaves you, and all of us?”
“I know not, nor do I greatly care, may Heaven help me and them.”
“Then you should appeal to him to abandon this mad undertaking. It is not fair to you. It is more than unfair to those who have entrusted their lives to his keeping.”
Isobel would have risen in her excitement, had not Elsie leaped to her feet.
“Oh, Isobel,” she cried, all a-quiver with disdain, “can you not for once conquer the self that is destroying your very soul? Neither by word nor act shall you interfere between Arthur Courtenay and his duty. Would you have him cling ignobly to life like that poor dandy whom he has sent to herd with savages? Be sure he has not forgotten those who are beholden to him. We are his first care. Let it be mine to leave him unhindered in the task he has undertaken!”
Isobel was cowed into silence. Elsie’s hero-worship had reached a height beyond her comprehension. She would never understand how a woman who loved a man could send him voluntarily to his death, and her shallow mind did not contemplate the possibility of Courtenay’s refusing to be swayed by any other consideration than that which his conscience told him was right.
Thus, at arm’s length as it were, they waited until they caught the sharp command “Give way there!” and the plash of oars told them that the boat had really started on its journey shorewards. Then Isobel, glancing furtively at her companion, saw the tears stealing down her cheeks, and the situation came back from the transcendental to that which was intelligible to her lower ideals.
“I am sorry,” she whispered, catching Elsie’s hand timidly. “I said what I thought was for the best. At any rate, it is too late now.”
Too late! The other girl groped blindly for the door. She felt that she would yield to the strain if she did not go on deck and catch a parting glimpse of the man who had become dearer to her than life itself. As she made her way forward, Joey ran to meet her. He was whining anxiously. He seemed to be demanding that sympathy which she alone could give him. In his half-human way, he was asking:
“Why has my master gone away in that boat? And why did he not take me with him? When my master goes ashore he never leaves me on board; what is the reason of to-day’s exception?”