I watched him walk forwards to convey the information to the men. They went in a whole body on to the forecastle, and stood staring about them, as though the ocean wore a new countenance to their gaze, now that they believed Braine’s island to be a short distance past the slope of it. The carpenter pointed, and was full of talk; there was much lighting of pipes, expectoration, puffing of great clouds indicative of emotion, uneasy, impatient, flitting movements amongst the men, some of whom presently broke up into couples and fell to pacing the forecastle like marines on sentry; talking, as I did not doubt, of the money they were going to dig up, what they would do with it when they had it, and so on; the expressions on their faces varying at every instant, one emotion suppressing another in a manner that to a contemplative and leisurely eye would have provided a study at once ludicrous and informing.
I had the watch that afternoon; and when Miss Temple and I had eaten our little midday meal, I drew chairs into the shadow of the short awning, and we sat together, I, pipe in mouth, occasionally quitting her side to take a look outside the edge of our canvas roof, along with a brief stare ahead, for I could not be sure of Captain Braine’s chronometer, nor of the exactness of my own calculations, and if the madman’s island was where he had declared it to be, it might heave into view off either bow or right ahead at any moment, for all I could tell.
Miss Temple stood in no need now of Captain Braine’s overcoat. She was habited in the costume of the Countess Ida; somewhat soiled it was, yet the perfect fit of it continued to atone for its shipwrecked airs. Her dark eyes glowed under the shadow of the straw hat she had had on when she left the Indiaman. She needed but her jewelry, the flash and decoration of her trinkets, to show very nearly as finely as she had on that day. There was but little alteration visible in her. For my part I could detect no more than that her face was a trifle thinner than when we had first entered on this wild adventure. The eye of close and constant association would not indeed witness changes which might instantly be perceptible to one encountered after an absence. Still, I had the image of her brilliant on my mind as she was on board the Indiaman, and viewing her now, as I say, I could perceive no other change than what I have mentioned. Intellectually, however, there was an alteration, defined to a degree to my sight. Her gaze was softened, and was often sweet. The characteristic firmness of her lips had lost its air of haughtiness. There was no longer any manner of command in her looks, nor of exaction in her fixed regard; there was nothing to hint that her spirit was broken—merely that it had been bowed to an average human level by the rough usage of the sea, and by the amazing experiences with which her months of lonely association with me had been surcharged.
Heretofore, that is to say for some weeks past, she had exhibited a resigned, calm, resolved behaviour, as of one who was constantly schooling herself to prepare for an issue of life or death. She had long ceased to utter a complaint; she would even detect a sigh in herself with a glance of contrition and self-reproach. Again and again had I complimented her upon the heroic qualities which her sufferings of mind and body had fructified in her; but this afternoon she was feverishly impatient and restless. The old fires of her spirit when alarmed were in her eyes. I would observe her struggling in vain to appear composed. As we sat together, she exclaimed, as she brought her eyes to my face from a nervous sweeping gaze at the horizon over the bows: ‘By this time to-morrow we shall know our fate.’
‘Perhaps not. Yet I pray it may be so. If I were sentenced to be hanged, I would wish the hour come. But what is to be our fate? Nothing in this life is so bad or so good as our fears or our hopes would have us think. If there should be no island—— Well, those villains will find me on the alert for what may come along in the shape of chance, and you must be ready.’
‘I am ready,’ she exclaimed; ‘only tell me what to do. But this expectation——’ Her lips trembled, and her white fingers clenched to the agitation that possessed her. ‘The misery is, Mr. Dugdale, you have no scheme.’
‘That will come,’ I exclaimed; ‘be calm, and remain hopeful. I might, in the language of the heroes of novels, hope to reassure you by promising that if we are to perish we will perish together. I am not a hero, and I talk with the desire and the intention of living. There may be a few more adventures yet before us; but your hand is in mine, and I shall not relinquish it until I conduct you to your mother’s side.’
Of course I talked only to cheer her; yet I hoped even as I spoke, and my hope gave a tone of conviction to my words that seemed to animate her, and she smiled whilst her wistful eyes sank, as though to a sudden reverie.
During the rest of the day the crew were ceaselessly on the move, passing in and out of the galley and in and out of the forecastle, pacing the planks with impatience strong in their rolling gait; one or another of them from time to time springing on to the head rail to peer thirstily and steadfastly under the shelter of his hand; one or another again at long intervals ascending to the height of the foreroyal yard, there to linger, whilst the fellows below gazed up with expectant faces, and ears greedy for a cry from that lofty summit. The sturdy figure of the carpenter was conspicuous amongst them. When he came aft, he would look as though willing to converse with me, but I walked away abruptly on his approach, and if I chanced to leave the cabin when he was on deck, I kept to the lee side, contriving an air that even to his unintelligent gaze must have conveyed the assurance that I wished to have nothing to do with him.
The breeze was light, just forward enough on the beam to allow of the foretopmast studding-sail remaining abroad. So weak was the air, that the barque crept along with erect spars, and the red fly of the dogvane scarcely flickered to the soft breathings at the royal mast head. I feared that it would fall a dead calm at sun-down, but greatly to my satisfaction, there was a small freshening in the breeze whilst the scarlet yet lay gloriously upon the cloudless countenance of the west. Indeed, my own almost crazy anxieties and expectation made the mere fancy of a spell of stagnation abhorrent to me. Supposing the chronometer below to be correct, I was in little doubt of the accuracy of my computations, and my desire to verify or disprove the madman’s assurance was consuming and insupportable.