“I understand! It overwhelmed him suddenly,—a frenzy of impatience. He could bear no more. I understand—I think now, I could almost hope—” She turned suddenly and laid her hand on his arm. The hysteria of the last minutes had disappeared, she was weak and spent, and breathlessly subdued. “Take me away, please, where I can’t see!”
Bedford half led, half carried. Katrine found herself extended on a long chair drawn for’ard, to a spot where the bridge cut off all view of what was happening astern. She was cold, and he was rubbing her hands; his touch had a magnetic warmth, to which she surrendered with a vague content. The hands which she had noticed and admired had a beauty of touch, as well as line. She watched their movements with a mechanical interest. For the moment there appeared nothing strange in the fact that this comparative stranger was performing so intimate a task. She needed comfort, and he gave it; that was the simple, natural fact. Presently he raised his eyes to hers with an enquiring glance, and she made a pitiful attempt at a smile.
“I was his only friend on board. Was I—kind enough? Do you think if I had been kinder—?”
“You were an angel!” he assured her warmly, “and, humanly speaking, nothing could have helped! His brain was diseased. It was not deliberate intent, one is sure of that—just the impulse of a tortured animal, to end it all, and be at peace.”
Katrine nodded.
“He told me that at best it was only a question of months. We are well and strong. We can’t judge!” Katrine caught her breath on that last word, her brain pierced by the memory of that death in life which threatened her companion’s life. “At least,” she continued in a lower note, “you can! You have been tried, but you are stronger, more patient...”
Bedford’s face set; he turned aside, not answering, and they sat in silence during an interminable hour of waiting.
Nothing could be seen of the rescue party, but the sounds from the ship, above all, the lack of sound, told its own tale. There came no quick, acclaiming cry, no ringing cheer; only at last the dull splash of the oars, and the creak of the ropes as the returning boat was hoisted to the davits.
Bedford roused himself, crept silently away, and returning five minutes later seated himself as silently on the floor by Katrine’s side. She did not turn her head, nor question him by so much as a glance, but when once more the ship shivered beneath the throbs of the engine, and the waters raced back from the prow, the tears streamed down her face.
“I’m... not sorry I... I didn’t want him to be brought back to more suffering and—shame! But it seems cruel to go on as if nothing had happened,—nothing mattered! The only comfort is that for him, it must have been—quick... He was so weak. He rose only once. Say it was quick!”