But by this time the island had melted into the scintillant dusk of the sky. Nothing showed but the liquid sweep of the indigo line of horizon. Another hour of such sailing as this would convey us out of all possibility of reach of the long-boat, supposing the men should recover her; for she was without mast or sail; the utmost exertion of the rowers could scarcely get more than three or three and a half miles an hour out of her; then again I had shifted the barque’s course, and would shift it again presently.
‘Tell me now about Forrest?’ I exclaimed, breaking a silence of fatigue and emotion that had lasted some few minutes.
I felt the shudder that ran through my companion in the clasp of her hand.
‘Did I understand that you shot him?’
‘It is too dreadful to speak of,’ she said in a low voice.
‘It was like this, sir,’ exclaimed Wetherly. ‘Forrest and me had agreed to keep a four hours’ lookout. He was to stand from eight to twelve. I lay down on the fo’c’sle, believing the lady safe below, where she’d been pretty nigh ever since you and the men went ashore. I was awoke by a noise that sounded to me like the report of a gun. It was then about six bells, sir. I thought I’d just walk aft to see if all was right with the lady. Audacious as I knew that there fellow Forrest to be, speaking of him as a fo’c’sle hand, and capable of any sort of hinsolence and mutiny and the likes of that, I had no fear of him whilst he was left alone to keep a lookout with the hentertainment of thinking about the money him and his mates was to dig up. Well, as I reached the quarter-deck the lady came out of the cabin. The light was burning dim, just as you found it when you came aboard. She held a pistol in her hand, and she says to me quite coolly: “A man came into my cabin just now. I heard him trying the handle of my door, and I took up this pistol, and when he walked in, I said: “Who are you? What do you want?” he answered; and I pointed my pistol at him and fired. I believe I have killed him. Will you go and see?” I thought she was walking in her sleep, so quiet she talked. I went to her cabin, and saw Forrest lying upon the deck. I turned him over, and he was stone dead; shot through the heart, I reckon. I dragged his body into your cabin, where it’s a-lying now. The lady then asked to keep company with me on the poop; and so it was you found us a-walking together, sir.’
‘Brave Louise!’ I murmured, moved to the utterance of her Christian name, though this was the first time I had ever given it her, close and ceaseless as our association had been. Yet an instant’s reluctance, regret, or bashfulness followed my pronunciation of it—even at such a moment as that!—to the memory that arose in me with the velocity of thought of the proud eyes, the haughty coldness of the lofty, disdainful, elegant Miss Temple of the Countess Ida.
But what she had done was a thing not to be referred to again now. I felt the piteousness of her distress, shame, and horror in her silence: by-and-by she would be able to speak of it collectedly, if there were need indeed to recur to it at all.
‘No fear of the boat overhauling us, now, I think, Wetherly?’ I exclaimed.
‘Lord, no, sir; without e’er a sail to spread either. That swim of yourn was a bold venture, Mr. Dugdale. Ye must ha’ managed the job in first-rate style. Wasn’t no lookout kept?’