The Cruise of the Make-Believes

Strange as it may appear, for two whole days the situation remained unchanged. Gilbert held practically no communication with anyone on board, save with Bessie, to whom occasionally he sent a note by the discreet hands of Pringle. But though she read the notes, and though over the first of them at least she wavered a little, she never sent any reply, and the notes themselves, in fragments, were tossed overboard. But on the evening of the second day after that disclosure of the truth, Mr. Tant literally forced his way into the presence of Gilbert, and demanded to know what was going to happen.

"My dear Gilbert," he exclaimed – "I can really stand it no longer. Mrs. Ewart-Crane, fortunately for all of us (though Heaven forgive me for saying so) has been extremely ill again, or she would in all probability have demanded to see you; Enid, I regret to say, has merely become sulky. Don't think that I blame her for a moment; in her position anyone might be excused for doing the same. The other people do not concern me, and so I have not troubled about them; but I would merely observe that the elder Meggison appears to be making a frantic attempt to drink himself to death, thanks to the services of the obliging Pringle. Something's got to be done – and quickly."

"There is one person in command of this vessel, and of the situation," replied Gilbert. "That person is Miss Meggison; and when she deigns to look at the matter from the proper standpoint, and practically to take no notice of any of those persons who have forced their way on to the yacht, we shall know what we are going to do. I am perfectly comfortable, and unless Miss Meggison moves in the matter the situation must solve itself."

So Mr. Jordan Tant, shaking his head desolately, went off to find Bessie. As a matter of fact he was a little afraid of her, because of the extraordinary position that a girl of her origin had taken up; it was clearly against anything he had ever understood concerning people of her class. He approached her in the politest fashion, and pleaded with her to do something in the matter.

"I have been speaking to our friend Byfield, Miss Meggison," said Mr. Tant – "and I may be said to be a sort of reluctant ambassador. Personally I do not like the sea; there is not that stability about it that I require for my actual comfort; if you come to that, I think none of us here really like the sea; we should all like to go back safely to dry land. Now – what do you say?"

"I have already told Mr. Byfield that I want to go back to England," said Bessie.

"Excellent! I am sure that our friend Byfield does not really understand the situation. Perhaps you have not explained the matter clearly."

"I have explained it very clearly – but Mr. Byfield absolutely refuses to go back," said Bessie. "The matter is not in my hands, as you appear to think; I am a prisoner here just the same as you are. Here is my father; perhaps you had better speak to him about it."

"Personally I don't see that there's anything to discuss," said Daniel Meggison, airily stepping into the conversation. "Our good friend Byfield – owner of this charming yacht – prefers as an idle man to take a cruise on summer seas. I, as another idle man, am delighted to accompany him – and my daughter is included in the party. I confess there are certain people on board who have forced themselves, as it were, into the original scheme of things; but the vessel is a large one, and we may safely ignore them. Personally, I'm very comfortable, and I decline to question the motives of my friend Byfield in any way. Excellent fellow, Byfield – lavish with his money."

"You hear what my father says," said Bessie, with a little note of contempt in her voice. "Surely you can want nothing else. I don't count at all, you see; all the other people have to be reckoned with first."

Mr. Tant went away, but did not return to Gilbert. Instead he spent some hours in going about between Mrs. Ewart-Crane and Enid and Simon Quarle – putting questions to them, with his head very much on one side, and speaking always in a plaintive tone. Those questions resolved themselves simply into – What ought a fellow to do under certain exasperating circumstances? – Wouldn't it be better to appoint a committee, or something of that kind, to take charge of things? Failing to get any satisfaction from any quarter, Mr. Tant took his sorrows to the cheerful Pringle, who seemed to suggest that there was nothing very much to worry about.

"Bless you, sir – so long as you're in comfortable quarters I don't think it matters much, sir, whether you're afloat or whether you're ashore. You've got to pass the time somehow, and you may as well make the best of things as they happen along, sir. Nice vessel, sir – an' company nice and varied; some of 'em swears at you, an' some of 'em complains about things – an' nobody seems just at the moment to be absolutely wild with joy. But Lor', sir, anything might happen to cheer everybody up at a moment's notice. Anything I can do for you, sir?"

Mr. Tant went away, feeling more miserable than ever. Coming on deck, he found that it was growing dark, and that a soft uncomfortable rain was falling; the wind had dropped to nothing. He wondered despondently where they were, or for what port they were bound; he had not troubled to ask about such matters as that at all. Finally he went below, and curled himself up in a corner of the saloon, and went to sleep.

He was awakened from that sleep by a sudden violent shock that flung him full upon his face upon the carpet. He scrambled up, hearing above him a great noise of running feet, and the shouts of men, and once the agitated scream of a woman. He got the door of the saloon open, and went off along a corridor that seemed to slope in an unaccountable fashion in search of Mrs. Ewart-Crane's cabin. He met Enid at the door of it.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Everything in the cabin seems to be upside down."

"I don't know," responded Mr. Tant, with his teeth chattering – "but I should say that we'd bumped into something."

Mr. Tant left her, and went along that corridor that sloped unpleasantly on his way to the deck. At the foot of the companion he collided with Pringle, who apologized, and beamed upon him as cheerfully as ever.

"Shouldn't be a bit surprised, sir, if we wasn't all goin' to the bottom," said Pringle, with a grin. "This way, sir; take my arm, sir."

They scrambled on deck in a pitchy darkness of fog and a blur of rain, to see dim figures moving swiftly about the deck, and to hear a voice above them crying orders. The deck sloped as much as the corridor had done, and at quite as unpleasant an angle; somewhere near at hand they heard Gilbert's voice speaking sharply to the captain.

"It means taking to the boats, sir," shouted the voice above. "Plenty of time, if things are done quietly; the men are all standing by. Better get your friends on deck, sir."

That suggestion was more easily made than carried out. Mrs. Stocker, for instance, was in a great state of hysteria, and was clinging to little Mr. Stocker, something to his suffocation. She insisted upon being taken on deck, and at the same time vigorously resisted every effort to get her there. Mr. Daniel Meggison wept, and wrung his hands, and bawled for life-belts; Aubrey, with all the bravado gone out of him, stood still, and plucked at his lips, and stared into the blackness of the night, terror-stricken. Mrs. Ewart-Crane and her daughter clung together; but Enid, to do her justice, was quite composed, and spoke sharply once to Mr. Tant when that gentleman demanded to know if anybody was ever going to do anything.

Simon Quarle found the hand he wanted in the darkness, and gripped it. "Well, Bessie – are you afraid?" he whispered.

"No – not afraid," she said steadily. "If only father would be quiet; we can't do any good by shouting."

"Life-belts!" bellowed Daniel Meggison. "Oh – my God! – are there no life-belts on this rotten old hulk? Life-belts!"

The yacht was settling down slowly but steadily; there was nothing for it but to take to the boats. Some provisions were put in – the men hurrying hither and thither, answering cheerfully to the orders given them, and standing in their places without disorder. The only confusion was among the passengers; when their boat was at last ready, Daniel and his son scuffled together feebly for a moment or two, even with blows, in an attempt to get into the boat first.

Now, just how it happened that in the confusion that boat went off with the passengers only in it – the Stockers and the Ewart-Cranes, the Meggisons and Quarle, and Tant and Gilbert – will never be known. At the last moment Gilbert called out to know if Pringle was there; and the cheery voice of the man answered him; and Pringle, following the voice, stepped into his place.

"Nice smooth sea, sir," said Pringle, as he took an oar.

The other boats were being manned; to the last, as they pulled away, they heard the steady voice of the captain calling orders. Gilbert and Pringle and Simon Quarle pulled steadily; the women were huddled in the stern, and one of them at least was whimpering. Gradually the night seemed to close in above them and about them; gradually it seemed that they were left more and more alone on the gently heaving sea. At last – minutes after, as it seemed – there was a sound of rending and tearing upon rocks – and then a splash of waters; then all was still.

"She's gone," said Gilbert, drawing a long breath.

They pulled slowly, waiting for the dawn; no one seemed inclined to speak. Daniel Meggison slumbered a little, murmuring in his sleep; Mrs. Julia Stocker also appeared to sleep, pillowing her head upon Mr. Stocker, who seemed to strive to make her as comfortable as he could. She murmured more than once of Clapham.

Gilbert strove to pierce the darkness to catch a glimpse of Bessie. He thought he knew where she sat – upright and slim and steady; he wondered of what she was thinking, out there in the darkness – remembered with a pang how far she was from that quiet Arcadia Street in which he had found her. Then gradually, from sheer exhaustion, he nodded a little himself, even while he kept his oar moving rhythmically. And the dawn grew at last in the sky, and shed its grey light upon them – that strange little company in an open boat upon the sea.

That little company woke gradually to the full meaning of their situation. Mrs. Stocker, shuddering, was absolutely certain that she "looked a fright"; Mr. Edward Stocker passed a sort of damp compliment to her concerning her appearance. Mrs. Ewart-Crane had withdrawn herself a little, with her daughter, from the commoner company; Enid might have been observed holding the hand of Jordan Tant. Daniel Meggison, for his part, more than once put the lives of them all in peril by standing up in the boat, holding on to the person nearest him, and declaring that he distinctly saw land; after such an exhibition he was usually hauled down unceremoniously by the coat-tails by his son.

"Got any notion where we are?" growled Simon Quarle over his shoulder to Gilbert.

"Not the slightest," replied Byfield in the same tone. "As a matter of fact, I didn't trouble very much about the direction we were taking during the past few days."

"Then we must hope for luck – and cheer up the women," said Quarle, bending to his oar again.

"It might help a bit, sir, if I was to serve out breakfast," said Pringle, looking back over his shoulder. "It isn't much, sir; but it might well be less. At the worst, it'll keep us going for a day or two, sir."

"Go ahead then – but be sparing," said Gilbert.

"Very good, sir," replied Pringle cheerfully; and proceeded to hand out miscellaneous provisions forthwith.

"I feel that I am a citizen of the world," said Daniel Meggison, biting a biscuit, and looking round upon his fellow-voyagers. "Anything might happen to me – anything may happen; but at least I shall have warmed both hands at the fire of life."

"That's about the only fire you ever will warm your hands at, Dad, I should think," retorted Aubrey. "Beastly chilly on the sea at this time of the morning." He flogged himself viciously with his arms as he spoke. "Besides, how anybody can be cheerful under these horrible circumstances licks me. Biscuits – and tinned things – and water!"

"Water is certainly a drawback, but I believe thirst is even worse," said Mr. Meggison.

"If Mr. Stocker and I were at home now we should at least be having a comfortable breakfast," said Mrs. Stocker, shivering. "I do hope that girl is looking after the house; ten chances to one she won't have dusted the place since last I set foot in it. I wonder what'll happen if we all go to the bottom of the sea? I wonder if she'll stop at the house, and hope for us to come back."

"Let us hope, on our own accounts, that we shall go back, my dear," said Mr. Stocker. "After all, we're not the worst off by any means," he added, lowering his voice. "Mr. Byfield, for instance – think what he's lost. All that great vessel gone to the bottom of the sea."

"Well, he ought to have had more sense than to go tearing over the ocean, and bumping into things in the dark the way he did," snapped Mrs. Stocker.

"I don't know whether you noticed, ma'am," said Daniel Meggison genially, as he turned to Mrs. Ewart-Crane, "that about a fortnight ago, in one of the Sunday papers, there was an account of a shipwrecked crew – provisions exhausted – who decided to draw lots as to which of them should be killed to provide sustenance for the remainder. It fell to the cook – "

"I do not read the Sunday papers, sir," said Mrs. Ewart-Crane, turning her back upon him.

"That's a pity," he retorted, nothing abashed. "They seemed to find the cook somewhat reluctant, but finally overcame his scruples, and were just deciding how best to dispose his person among the crew – to divide him up, in fact, ma'am – when there was a cry from one of the number that a vessel was in sight. So the cook escaped. Highly interesting narrative, ma'am."

"Even in the small compass of this boat, sir, you will find that it is more convenient to draw the line, if I may use the expression, between class and class," said Mr. Jordan Tant icily. "Because a lady is compelled to sit upon the same seat with you in a boat on the open sea is no reason why you should force your conversation upon her. It isn't done, sir."

"Confound your impudence!" exclaimed Daniel Meggison, starting to his feet. But Aubrey promptly pulled him down again, and he retired, muttering, into the depths of his large frock-coat, the collar of which he had turned up about his ears.

A mist had settled down again over the sea. They pulled on and on steadily, with no definite purpose in their minds as to what was to happen to them. But presently, amid a silence that had fallen upon them all (for even Daniel Meggison had given up conversation as hopeless under the circumstances), Gilbert leaned forward and spoke to Simon Quarle.

"I can hear the sound of waves breaking on rocks," he said. "I thought I heard it just now; but now I'm certain."

They rested upon their oars, and listened; the sound was unmistakable. Everyone sat up, and began to offer suggestions as to where they were, and what the land was likely to be; the three rowers settled again to their work. And now the sound grew louder and louder, until presently, jutting up out of the mist, was a grey shadow that was certainly land – a grey shadow that presently resolved itself into a sloping shore, with white crested waves breaking upon it. They pulled cautiously, looking for an opening; Daniel Meggison was with difficulty restrained from leaping to his feet and shouting.

"For my part, I do hope there'll be somebody that can speak the English language," said Mrs. Stocker. "Also I hope there won't be any unnecessary bumping when we do land. I remember when I was a girl at Brighton when we were run up on the beach in a very nice boat – "

The speech was cut short by the boat that moment taking ground gently; the three men sprang out, and began to haul it up on the sloping shore. One by one the cramped passengers were handed out over the seats; they stood on a desolate shore, without any sign of human habitation anywhere, and looked about them forlornly.

"Looks to me very much like an island, sir," said Pringle cheerfully.

"By all the rules of the game it certainly ought to be an island," said Daniel Meggison.

CHAPTER XIV

THE CASTAWAYS

THE first business of the shipwrecked party, after hauling up the boat and taking out of it the various stores it contained, was to make some attempt at exploring the place upon which they had been so unceremoniously flung. That is true, at least, of the more energetic members, practically consisting of Gilbert Byfield, and Simon Quarle and Pringle.

Daniel Meggison and his son, together with Mr. Tant, were left to guard the ladies against those unknown dangers which in this strange place might threaten them; Mrs. Stocker had already declared that she had "heard savages" – but declined to enter into particulars regarding what particular noise she referred to. So in the grey morning mist Julia Stocker and her husband, and Mrs. Ewart-Crane and her daughter, seated themselves upon the shore, and Daniel Meggison and his son with Mr. Tant stood ready to hurl themselves upon any approaching foe.

Byfield and his two companions had set off round the shore; and they had scarcely gone fifty yards when out of the mists they had left behind there came towards them, crying to them, someone running. Gilbert stood still, and even went back a few paces; and so came face to face with Bessie. She caught at his hand, and for a moment it seemed as though the old friendly confidence was restored between them.

"I want to go with you," she panted.

"Come along then," he responded quickly; and they moved on to join the others.

"We mustn't make up our minds that the place is an island until we've made the circuit of it," said Simon Quarle as they went on. "Romantic notions are one thing – but we may be quite near to civilization."

"It only shows, sir, what a wonderful thing schooling is," said Pringle, pausing for a moment, and speaking with the utmost respect. "Now when I was a nipper, – boy I mean, sir – I was only too glad to cut what lessons I could, sir. But suppose, for instance, I hadn't had it well rubbed into me that an island was a piece of land entirely surrounded by water – I might have got into quite a muddle over this. Shouldn't have known, sir, how to set about it to find out if it really was an island. Wonderful thing education, sir."

By means of a pocket compass which dangled on the watchchain of Simon Quarle they discovered first that they were going due south, and then that they were turning towards the west. It was at about the most western point of the island that they found that the character of the land changed, and that from some low hills a deep wood stretched down almost to the shore. Skirting this, and turning northward, they found their further progress barred by a great chain of rocks that rose abruptly from the more level ground and plunged also straight out into the sea. It was obviously impossible for them any longer to keep to the coast; they skirted this line of rocks inland, and came in a comparatively short time again to the sea. This time the coast pointed southwards; following it, they came to the boat drawn up on the beach, and to the little company of people they had left.

"I see exactly the shape of this place," said Simon Quarle, rapidly scraping out a rough design on the sand. "It is pear-shaped, with the narrowest part of the pear (where the stalk would be) to the north, and the broadest part of it running from east to west. There is only one question we've left unsettled; what is beyond those rocks?"

"The sea, of course," said Gilbert. "Though what part of the sea, or what this island is, or where we are, I haven't the least notion."

"The great question is – what are we going to live on?" asked Daniel Meggison, looking round upon the little company. "Fish we might procure, if anyone happened to be expert enough to capture them, or if we had rods and lines; certain berries might also be discovered which would sustain life. Of course in all probability so soon as the mist lifts we may be able to make signals, and to attract the attention of some passing ship."

"We must find out what lies beyond those rocks," said Bessie. "Will you come with me, Mr. Quarle?"

"I'll go with you," broke in Gilbert eagerly; but she kept her eyes fixed on Simon Quarle, and presently walked away with him.

"Mr. Quarle – what is going to happen to us?" she asked when they were out of ear-shot of the others. "I am a little afraid, because this has come upon us so suddenly; but is there no escape – no chance of getting away?"

"Don't know, I'm sure – utterly impossible to say," said Quarle. "If we knew where we were, things might be different; or if the other boats turned up with the crew in them. But I'm afraid we're a mere set of amateurs at this Robinson Crusoe business – and I don't quite know what really will happen to us. At any rate we're on dry land – which is better than knocking about in an open boat on the sea – isn't it?"

They came again to that great wall of rock, and after some search discovered a sort of natural path which went up the face of it, and was comparatively easy to climb. As they gained the top, their worst suspicions were realized; on the other side of what was practically merely a thick wall of rocks they heard the sea booming restlessly and peered only into the mist which shrouded it. As Quarle had said, this was the end of the island – the narrow part of the pear-shaped place on which the sea had tossed them.

They scrambled down the rocks, and retraced their steps in a gloomy silence. As they were nearing the place where they had left the party, Bessie suddenly stopped, and faced Simon Quarle, and spoke with something of the old, quiet, steady resolution that had been hers in Arcadia Street.

"Mr. Quarle – even if you and I are desperately afraid we musn't let the others know it," she said; "we've got to go on keeping brave faces until something worse happens – and even then we've got to keep brave faces. We shall have to make the best of the provisions we've got; and still we must keep brave faces even when we're beginning to be hungry. We've got to find some place to shelter us at night; and perhaps, after all, help may come sooner than we anticipate."

"And perhaps, if help doesn't come, or if things get to the worst, little Miss Make-Believe may contrive to make us all think that things are better than they are – eh?" He smiled at her whimsically.

She stood for a moment looking out to sea; she did not turn to him when she spoke. "If we can live here at all, we may need all the make-believe we have in us," she said. "My poor make-believe seems to have made shipwreck of my life, and the lives of others too; perhaps here it may be more useful. I wonder!"

Quarle moved nearer to her for a moment; spoke to her over her shoulder. "Bessie – I haven't cared to say anything to you about – about yourself – and about this man. I rushed off to Newhaven, thinking you might need a friend; have you nothing to say to me?"

"Only to thank you," she replied. "There's some strange Fate working for me – or against me; I suppose that's why I've been dropped out of the world I knew into this place."

"You're not answering my question; you're not being fair to me," he said. "Have you nothing to say to me about this matter – about yourself? Do you love him?"

She stood still for a moment or two, looking at the waves tumbling at her feet; the man waited.

"Yes," she replied at last; and then turned swiftly to him, pouring out a very flood of words upon him. "I love him with all my heart and soul; there's no other man in all the world like him; he's my life – my everything. And just for that reason, and just because of what he has done, I can never have anything to do with him. In spite of all I said to him, I know only too well why he lavished all that money on me; I know that he never meant to wound me, or to shame me in the eyes of other people. That wasn't his fault; it was the fault of those who traded upon his generosity. If I have been shamed and hurt – how much more has he been shamed and hurt because of me. There" – she laughed quickly, and brushed the tears from her eyes – "that's the end of it – and that's the last time I shall ever speak of it. It's good to tell a secret sometimes – and I've told mine to the best friend ever a poor unhappy girl had. I won't ask if you're going to keep my secret – because that would be insulting you, and would show that I didn't know what a good friend I've got. And you won't ever speak of this again to me?"