The Lust of Hate by Guy Newell Boothby (digital book reader txt) 📕

a thing. For myself I could not have closed my eyes for five minutes,

even if by doing so I could have saved my life. Every faculty was

strained to breaking pitch, and I was continually watching and

listening for something, though what I expected to see or hear I

could not have told if I had been asked. I pray to God that I may

never again be called upon to spend such another absolutely

despairing night.

CHAPTER VIII. WE ARE SAVED!

THE calm with which we had so far been favoured was not, however,

destined to be as permanent as we imagined, for towards the middle of

the night the wind got up, and the sea, from being as smooth as

glass, became more boisterous than I altogether liked. Miss

Maybourne, who now seemed to be sunk into the lethargy from which she

had roused me, lifted her head from her hands, and at intervals

glanced over her shoulder apprehensively at the advancing waves. One

thing was very evident: it would never do to let our boat drift

broadside on to the seas, so I got out the oars again, and to

distract my companion’s thoughts, invited her to take the helm. She

did as I requested, but without any sign of the eagerness she had

hitherto displayed. Then, for something like an hour, we struggled on

in this crab-like fashion. It was Herculean labour, and every minute

found my strength becoming more and more exhausted. The power of the

wind was momentarily increasing, and with it the waves were assuming

more threatening proportions. To say that I did not like the look of

affairs would be to put my feelings very mildly. To tell the truth, I

was too worn out to think of anything, save what our fate would be if

by any chance we should be on the edge of an hurricane. However, I

knew it would not do to meet trouble half-way, so by sheer force of

will I rivetted my attention upon the boat, and in thus endeavouring

to avert the evil of the present, found sufficient occupation to

prevent me from cross-questioning the future.

Suddenly Miss Maybourne, who, as I have said, had for some time

been sitting in a constrained attitude in the stern, sprang to her

feet with a choking cry.

“Mr. Wrexford,” she said, in a voice that at any other time I

should not have recognised as hers, “I must have something to drink

or I shall go mad.”

Fearing she might fall overboard in her excitement, I leapt up,

seized her in my arms, and dragged her down to her seat again. Had I

not done so, I cannot say what might not have happened.

“Let me go,” she moaned. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, let me go! You

don’t know what agony I am suffering.”

I could very well guess, for I had my own feelings to guide me.

But it was my duty to try and cheer her at any cost, and upon this

work I concentrated all my energies, at the same time keeping the

boat’s head in such a position that the racing seas should not

overwhelm her—no light work, I can assure you. When at last I

did succeed in calming her, she sat staring straight ahead of

her like a woman turned to stone. It was pitiful to see a woman, who

had hitherto been so brave, brought so low. I put my arm round her

waist the better to hold her, and, as I did so, watched the black

seas, with their tips of snowy foam, come hissing towards us.

Overhead the stars shone brightly, and still not a vestige of a cloud

was to be seen. It seemed like doubting Providence to believe that,

after all the dangers from which we had been preserved since we had

left England, we were destined to die of starvation in an open boat

in mid-Atlantic. And yet how like it it looked.

After that one outburst of despair Miss Maybourne gave no more

trouble, and when she had been sitting motionless beside me for an

hour or thereabouts fell fast asleep, her head resting on my arm.

Weak and suffering as I was, I was not so far gone as to be unable to

feel a thrill of delight at this close contact with the woman I

loved. What would I not have given to have been able to take her in

my arms and have comforted her properly!—to have told her of my

love, and, in the event of her returning it, to have faced King Death

side by side as lovers. With her hand in mine Death would not surely

be so very terrible. However, such a thing could not be thought of. I

was a criminal, a murderer flying from justice; and it would have

been an act of the basest sacrilege on my part to have spoken a word

to her of the affection which by this time had come to be part and

parcel of my life. For this reason I had to crush it and keep it

down; and, if by any chance we should be rescued, I would have to

leave her and go out to hide myself in the world without allowing her

ever to suspect the thoughts I had had in my mind concerning her. God

knows, in this alone I had suffered punishment enough for the sin I

had unintentionally committed.

At last the eastern stars began to lose something of their

brilliance, and within a short period of my noticing this change, the

wind, which had been sensibly moderating for some time past, dropped

to a mere zephyr, and then died away completely. With its departure

the violence of the waves subsided, and the ocean was soon, if not so

smooth as on the previous day, at least sufficiently so to prevent

our feeling any further anxiety on the score of the boat’s

safety.

One by one the stars died out of the sky, and a faint grey light,

almost dove-coloured in its softness, took their place. In this light

our boat looked double her real size, but such a lonely speck upon

that waste of water that it would have made the heart of the boldest

man sink into his shoes with fear. From the above-mentioned hue the

colour quickly turned to the palest turquoise, and again to the

softest pink. From pink it grew into a kaleidoscope of changing tints

until the sun rose like a ball of gold above the sea-line—and day

was born to us. In the whole course of my experience I never remember

to have seen a more glorious sunrise. How different was it in its

joyous lightness and freshness to the figures presented by the two

miserable occupants of that lonely boat!

At last Miss Maybourne opened her eyes, and, having glanced round

her, sat up. My arm, when she did so, was so cramped and stiff that

for a moment I could scarcely bear to move it. She noticed this, and

tried to express her regret, but her tongue refused to obey her

commands. Seeing this, with an inarticulate sound she dropped her

head on to her hands once more. To restore some animation into my

cramped limbs, I rose and endeavoured to make my way to the bows of

the boat. But, to my dismay, I discovered that I was as weak as a

month-old child. My legs refused to support the weight of my body,

and with a groan I sank down on the thwart where I had previously

been rowing.

For upwards of half an hour we remained as we were, without

speaking. Then I suddenly chanced to look along the sea-line to the

westward. The atmosphere was so clear that the horizon stood out like

a pencilled line. I looked, rubbed my eyes, and looked again. Could I

be dreaming, or was it a delusion conjured up by an overtaxed brain.

I shut my eyes for a moment, then opened them, and looked again. No,

there could be no mistake about it this time. A ship was in sight,

and heading directly for us! Oh, the excitement of that moment,

the delirious joy, the wild, almost cruel, hope that seized me! But,

mad with longing though I was, I had still sufficient presence of

mind left to say nothing about my discovery to Miss Maybourne until I

was sure of my facts. She was sitting with her back towards it, and

therefore could not see it. So, while there was any chance of the

vessel leaving us, I was not going to excite her hopes, only to have

them blighted again. There would be plenty of time to tell her when

she was close enough to see us.

For what seemed an eternity I kept my eyes fixed upon the

advancing vessel, watching her rise higher and higher above the

waves. She was a large steamer, almost twice the size of the

ill-fated Fiji Princess. A long trail of smoke issued from her

funnels; and at last, so close did she come, I could distinguish the

water frothing at her bows with the naked eye. When she was not more

than three miles distant, I sprang to my feet.

“We’re saved, Miss Maybourne!” I cried frantically, finding my

voice and strength as suddenly as I had lost them. “We’re saved! Oh,

thank God, thank God!”

She turned her head as I spoke, and looked steadily in the

direction I pointed for nearly a minute. Then, with a little sigh,

she fell upon the gunwale in a dead faint. I sprang to her

assistance, and, kneeling at her feet, chafed her hands and called

her by name, and implored her to speak to me. But in spite of my

exertions, she did not open her eyes. When a quarter of an hour had

elapsed, and she was still insensible, I began to wonder what I

should do. To remain attending to her might mean that we should miss

our deliverer. In that case we should both die. At any cost, and now

more than ever, I knew I must attract the steamer’s attention. She

was not more than a mile behind us by this time, and, if I could only

make her see us, she would be alongside in a few minutes. For this

reason I tore off my coat, and, attaching it to an oar, began to wave

it frantically above my head. Next moment a long whistle came across

the waves to me. It was a signal that our boat had been observed, and

never did a sound seem more musical to a human ear. On hearing it, I

stood up again, and, shading my eyes with my hands, watched her

approach, my heart beating like a piston-rod. Closer and closer she

came, until I could easily read the name, King of Carthage,

upon her bows. When she was less than a hundred yards distant, an

officer on the bridge came to the railings, and hailed us.

“Boat, ahoy!” he cried. “Do you think you can manage to pull

alongside? or shall we send assistance to you?”

In reply—for I could not trust my voice to speak—I got out my

oars, and began to row towards her. Short as was the distance, it

took me some time to accomplish it. Seeing this, the same officer

again hailed me, and bade me make fast the line that was about to be

thrown to me. The words were hardly out of his mouth before the line

in question came whistling about my ears. I seized it as a drowning

man is said to clutch at a straw, and, clambering forward, secured it

to the ring in the