Mary of Marion Isle

Chapter XVI Alone

Andrew and Jacks floated on the ocean in a solitude about which there was something awful. For a while they shouted at intervals in the hope of attracting the notice of other boats, but no answer came. Once, some miles away, against the light of the faint and sinking moon they caught sight of a towering mass which they guessed must be an iceberg, but soon it vanished into the gloom. Not knowing what else to do they let the boat drift, only keeping her straight before such wind as there was, in the hope that when dawn came they would be discovered and rescued. But before that happened, although they did not know it, they had travelled many miles and when at length the sun rose, it showed them nothing save a vast expanse of sea, for even the iceberg had disappeared amidst the clouds on the horizon.

For an hour or two they still drifted aimlessly, employing the time in overhauling the boat which, to their joy, they found was well provisioned with biscuits, tinned meat, water and a jar of rum. So they ate with gratitude. Indeed, their chief enemy was the Arctic cold which, had they been wet, would probably have killed them. Even this they were able to guard against to some extent by putting on over the warm clothes which they were wearing, tarpaulin overalls that, together with blankets, they found in the boat's lockers among other miscellaneous stores, such as tobacco.

"What are we to do now?" asked Andrew suddenly of his companion, adding, as he observed that Jacks was leaning against the thwarts and looking distressed, "Are you ill?"

"No, my lord, only a little indigestion where I got that knock last night," and vaguely he indicated the middle of his body.

"Indigestion!" said Andrew. "That may mean anything or nothing. The fact is that, like a good fellow, you tried to catch me and were knocked down and hurt. However, it is no use attempting examinations here and in this cold. So I repeat, what are we to do?"

"Die, my lord, I suppose."

"The idea would have many attractions if one had not been brought up in a certain fashion. Has it ever struck you, Jacks, how great are the disadvantages of religious beliefs and instincts?"

Jacks shook his head. Evidently the subject was one on which he had not reflected.

"Also," went on Andrew, "our end would be lingering and of a nature that I prefer to avoid if possible. How extraordinarily tame that albatross is. I think it must know me again, as I have been throwing it food for the last ten days. There! Did you see it take that bit of biscuit?"

"There have been lots of them about the ship, my lord."

"Yes, but I recognise this one; it is half as big again as any of the others, and has blacker wings; also two of the feathers are missing from the right pinion."

"Perhaps it is waiting to pick out our eyes," said Jacks, "after we are dead, I mean."

"I dare say it is filled with some intelligent anticipation of the sort, but meanwhile it is an interesting and companionable fowl and, as I remarked, so tame that one might almost think that it had been brought up by hand. I wonder why it has stuck to us instead of going after the other boats?"

Jacks shook his head and abandoned the problem, for to tell truth, the motives of albatrosses did not interest him much at this juncture in his private affairs.

Then ensued a silence, during which Andrew idly watched the huge seafowl that swept over their little craft, then sailed some hundred yards ahead and returned, repeating the journey again and again.

"Well," said Andrew at length, "since no help seems to be forthcoming and the sea is getting up, since also neither you nor I have any suggestions to make, I think that we had better take that albatross for a pilot. Maybe it will lead us to land. At any rate, the captain said last night that there are some islands about two hundred miles to the north where cabbages grew, and perhaps it will head for them. So help me to get up this mast."

"And perhaps it won't," said Jacks, as he obeyed. "A few thousand miles round is nothing to an albatross."

With some difficulty they raised the heavy mast, for the lifeboat was a large one, and set some canvas. Fortunately, as it happened, Andrew when a lad had learned how to sail a boat on the Scottish firths where he used to stay with his mother's people, and this knowledge now served him in good stead. So presently they were bowling away over the water at seven or eight knots an hour before a steady wind from the south, while, except for a periodic tour of their boat, the great albatross with unwavering wing floated ahead of them. There was a compass in the boat, and watching it, Andrew observed that this bird kept the same direction without change, heading always about one point to the east of north. Evidently, therefore, it was not flying in a circle, and this being so he was content to follow it for lack of a better guide.

Hour after hour they sailed on thus over that illimitable and most lonely sea where, save for the albatross, a spouting whale was the only living creature that they saw. They talked little, since Jacks was too depressed for conversation and Andrew was lost in his own thoughts. He wondered whether, as seemed probable, this was the end of his life's journey. If so, it was in a way a fitting epitome of the business of existence—a long voyage over an icy and lonesome sea in the frail bark of being, whither he knew not. Perhaps at the finish he must sink beneath the sea and vanish as the great ship had done, or perhaps he would reach, either before or after that disappearance, some unimagined harbour of rest. He did not know, and at length abandoned consideration of the subject, he who was helpless in the hands of Fate.

Next he wondered what had become of the others. He remembered that they might all be drowned, and tried to feel as agonized as he should have done at this probability. But shocking as it was, he could not grieve as he ought. In such circumstances conventions and all the polite imaginings of life are torn away, and men come face to face with realities.

What were they in his case? He was fond of his wife in a fashion, but his feeling for her went no deeper. And as for the rest, the brilliant Staff and the others—well, they were acquaintances, no more, and if they departed from his reach for ever, he would grieve for them, but for himself he could not grieve. In addition to his mother he had loved but two creatures in his life, the woman who had betrayed him and the child who had been taken away from him. The second of these was lost to him for ever in any state of existence which he could imagine, whilst the first and third had trodden that black gate through which all life must pass. Therefore his main interests lay beyond its portal, if there was a beyond as he believed. If not, they lay in an eternal Darkness, and why should he fear to share it, since in deep sleep is rest?

Yet life was strong in him, and he still hoped that there was happiness for man in the world—if it could be found. But if found would it endure? Was man, at any rate man of the higher sort, meant to be happy here? Did not every advance upwards from the level of the animal, imply a lessening of the possibilities of happiness as we know it, which after all is chiefly a product of animal conditions? That sweeping albatross was happy, bit then it never thought of using its wings in any other air than that of earth; its rejoicing was in food and flight and mating and the boundless sea. The savage, too, was happy because his wants were akin to those of the albatross. But for such a creature as himself, still animal, but gifted with aspiring thought or soul, or whatever it might be, was there such a thing as happiness? And if not, might it not be better that all should end, now, at once? Only then might come a hereafter in which all would begin again.

The cold was very great, so great that notwithstanding their many coverings, Andrew wondered whether soon it would not solve this and every other problem so far as they were concerned. Well, if so, it would matter nothing at all to the world. There were plenty of abler men and greater scientists than himself, and dozens who would be glad of his post as Governor–General and fill it better. His loss would really affect no one except himself—not even Clara if she lived.

At length the night closed in and through its long hours, as the wind remained steady behind them and did not rise, they sailed on and on. Once more the day broke, and found them almost frozen, as indeed they would have been save for the plenitude of their garments and of the food in the boat. During those endless hours of the dark, Andrew, who must steer and watch the sail, leaving poor Jacks, who seemed exhausted, to sleep as best he could, felt rather than saw the albatross sailing round them in its unwearying journey. Indeed, once he thought that the tip of its wing touched his face, as might have happened, since although these birds never wet their pinions even when skimming on the surface of the roughest sea, to every wave of which they rise and fall in their magic flight, of human beings they have not a like experience. At least when the dawn came, there it was floating just ahead of, or sometimes behind the boat, with its beady eyes searching for food upon the rough waters, and as before, steering a steady course towards the east of north. Noting this, Andrew made an experiment by turning the boat's head more to the west. For a while the albatross kept on its own course, namely, about one point to the east of north, till it vanished indeed. Then suddenly it reappeared, floated for a while above the boat, and once more headed towards the north. Andrew followed it, since evidently it knew where it was going and he did not. Perhaps it would lead him to land, perhaps to another ship which it had found during the night, perhaps nowhere except over endless leagues of ocean until he perished.

At any rate it was a guide of a sort, and it seemed better to follow something than nothing at all.

So all that day they sailed on before the steady wind at about the same rate of, say, seven knots an hour. It was towards evening that Jacks, who was crouched in the bow because it was higher than the rest of the boat and he found some shelter there, called out:

"There's something ahead, my lord. I think it must be land."

Bidding him hold the tiller, Andrew went forward to look, for in the stern the sail obscured his view. Yes, sure enough, it was land, mountainous land rising out of a bank of mist, and not so very far away, since hitherto it had been hidden by this mist. It seemed a dangerous coast also, for now he could see the breakers falling on its shores. The question was, how to escape shipwreck, since the line of them appeared to be continuous.

Leaving Jacks in the bow Andrew went back to the tiller, keeping a brave face but wondering what on earth he was to do. Perhaps it would be wisest to put about and beat out to sea again. But what could be the use of that? They must try to make the land some time, and if he waited perhaps the weather would change; indeed, he thought that already it was changing. If it came on to blow, certainly they would be lost, whereas now there was—a chance of safety.

While he was pondering this problem and had almost made up his mind to put about, for those breakers looked very perilous, the albatross, which had vanished some time before Jacks first sighted land, suddenly reappeared accompanied by others of its kind and a great company of different seafowl. Andrew knew it at once, because of its large size, its tameness and the gap in its wing feathers. In his perplexity he came to a decision. He would do whatever that albatross did. If it turned out to sea, he would follow it; if it headed for the shore he would still follow it.

"Jacks," he called, "are you superstitious?"

"Not particularly, my lord, except about throwing salt over my shoulder, as my old mother taught me."

"Well, do you believe in luck?"

"No, my lord, for I never had any, that is until I met you. But why?"

"You have a strange idea of luck, though I suppose I should feel flattered," said Andrew. "But as for why I asked it is because I am banking ours upon that albatross. Look here, my friend, it's neck or nothing for us. If we get among those breakers, we shall be drowned, and I see no gap in them. Well, as there is nothing else to follow, I am steering by the albatross."

"Great Heavens!" moaned Jacks. "What does the bird care about breakers when it flies over the top of them?"

"Nothing at all, I imagine. Still, Jacks, if you give your faith to anything, whether it is a woman, or a fowl, or whatever it may be, you must give it wholly. In any event disaster will probably result, but half measures will certainly bring it on your head."

"I prefer to trust to God Almighty," protested Jacks.

"Quite so, but He has been known to work through birds—doubtless you remember the story in Roman history of the geese in the Capitol, and even through women."

"So has the Devil," commented Jacks.

But Andrew was not listening to him, for destruction seemed very near. Indeed he had only jested thus to try to relieve the terrible strain on his mind. There, straight ahead of him, foamed the angry line of surge in which he knew well their boat could not live, and in it he could see no break. What was he to do? Put about for the open sea, for which perhaps there was still time if he and Jacks had the skill and strength, which he doubted? If he succeeded, it meant another night in that cold which they might not survive, and should they do so, the search for some possible harbour when the light returned. Moreover, there was a gale coming up; he was sure of it from the kind of moan in the rising wind, also because the glass in the boat was dropping steadily, and it would certainly either blow them straight out to sea or on to the rocks. Lastly, he was weary of the struggle and did not care what happened, for his physical forces were ebbing, though it was true that he must consider Jacks, who seemed to be ill, rather than himself. So on the whole, perhaps he had better try to put about instead of following that confounded albatross to certain death amidst those broken waters.

Already he was leaning his weight upon the tiller when as though it divined his intention, the albatross, which was sailing very slowly ahead of the boat much as a frigate–bird does in other seas, put about itself in a very sudden fashion. For instead of flying north, it turned to the west into the eye of the sinking sun. Since it did not matter which way he went, almost instinctively Andrew followed it, with the more readiness because the wind, which was chopping, served him best upon that tack.

The boat came round well and sailed along parallel with the land not more than five or six hundred yards from the first line of breakers. When they had covered half a mile or so of water in this fashion, with a single curve the albatross put about again and once more headed due north. For the second time Andrew followed it, more from habit than for any other reason, with the result that the glare of the sun no longer blinded him. Then it was he saw that they were in the mouth of a narrow bay which had hitherto been hidden from him, owing to the configuration of the coast; further, that the water at its entrance seemed to be deep, since here were no foaming breakers.

Into that bay he sailed, slowly enough because the wind had almost ceased to serve, but with a grateful heart. For the water was deep and the harbour was sheltered by tall surrounding hills, at the foot of which appeared a stretch of rocky beach tenanted by seals and great sea–lions, to say nothing of countless multitudes of birds. Lastly, Jacks, who was watching in the prow, called out of a sudden in an agitated voice:

"My lord, there's a hut, or something like it, about a quarter of a mile away there to the left."

Andrew looked, and sure enough at the head of a little cove in the bay, perceived a dilapidated structure that evidently had been built by man. As his eyes fell on it the albatross, ceasing to fly in front of them, rose in its wondrous fashion without any apparent movement of the wings, and vanished towards the east over the crest of the frowning hills. As Andrew thought afterwards, it left them as a pilot leaves the ship when his work is done.

With great difficulty, because in this sheltered place the wind, although it moaned above their heads, no longer helped them at all, the two by the aid of oars worked the boat out of the harbour into the little cove, to the astonishment and indignation of a company of seals that were lying on its rocks. Somehow they beached it and climbed to the shore, making it fast to a sharp–pointed fragment of rock. Then very stiffly, they walked to the hut which was on higher ground, not more than thirty yards away. It proved to be a tumbledown place built apparently of wreckage, roofed with old boards and part of the bottom of a boat that had been covered with tarpaulin, now rotted. From many signs it was evident that this delectable habitation had not sheltered men for many a long year, though to judge from its smell other creatures had used it as a refuge. Still, to their delight they found piled in a corner of it certain casks and boxes which appeared to contain stores, and were carefully protected from the weather by means of planks and flat slabs of stone.

"The men who did that years ago had good hearts," said Jacks, "and they knew what it meant to be shipwrecked. God bless them, wherever they are."

Andrew nodded, then bade him help to carry the things from the boat before it grew dark. So, weary as they were, for the next half–hour they worked in the gathering gloom, and before night set in succeeded in removing everything of value into the shelter of the hut. Then tired out, they ate some biscuits, washed down with rum and water, wrapped themselves up in blankets, and choosing the cleanest spot they could find, slept the sleep of exhaustion.

At some time during the night Andrew was awakened by the sound of raving wind. Never had he heard such wind. It moaned upon the sea, dulling the roar of the breakers that furnished a constant undertone. It wailed like a whole family of banshees among the surrounding rocks, and it roared in fullest note between the crests of encircling hills, giving forth in its sum a perfect fantasy of tremendous sounds, such as might be produced by a thousand organs played upon by madmen.

"Great Heavens! what a gale," he said to himself, then shivered as he reflected upon what would have happened to them had they still been at sea in their frail boat; also that save for the albatross which he elected to follow, such would have been their fate. He marvelled also at the practical skill of the sailormen unknown who had chosen such a position for their roughly built hut, that it remained standing through these hurricanes. Then being thoroughly outworn he drew the blankets round him more tightly and went to sleep again.

When he awoke in the morning the gale was still blowing from the north if with somewhat lessened fierceness, and from an eminence above their hut the sea presented a tremendous spectacle, for the wind meeting the rollers that appeared to press in eternally from the south, caused them to spout in sheets of foam towards the heavens.

"We shouldn't have had much chance in that," he shouted to Jacks who had joined him, looking a miserable little object with his pale hair flying and his frail form enveloped in blankets.

"No more than a hailstone in hell fire, as an American friend of mine used to say, my lord," replied Jacks sadly. "However, we are out of it, thanks to your belief in that albatross, though there are more ways of dying than by being drowned."

"Let us go and see if the boat is all right," said Andrew, to change the subject.

So they went, to find that it was anything but all right. To be brief, the waves, or the wind, or both together, had dashed it against the rocks and shattered it to bits. The bow remained still tied by the chain to the point of stone; the rest had vanished or was scattered in fragments on the shore. Jacks wrung his hands when he saw it, and exclaimed:

"However shall we get away from this place now?"

"How should we have got away in any case?" answered Andrew. "Here we must stay until we are rescued, and let us thank our stars that we got the things out of the boat."

"Yes, my lord, but who is going to rescue us? This place isn't Hastings beach where I always spent my summer holiday. Well," he added, with a touch of grim imagination, "those two mountain–tops covered with snow will make first–rate tombstones, the big one for you and the little one for me."

"Perhaps," replied Andrew, with his usual shrug of the shoulders, "for probably Prince Edward's Islands, if we are on them, are not a favourite port of call. But meanwhile I am hungry, so let us breakfast."

So they ate and then made investigations. First they cleaned out the hut and examined it contents. Here they met with a blessed surprise, for the packages within it were full of food. There were tin–lined cases of biscuit, several barrels of salted meat that in this cold climate appeared to be still good, and a couple of small casks of spirits. Further, in other packages were some Snider rifles and shot guns with a large number of cartridges, hatchets, knives, and what were as valuable as anything, a variety of fishing lines with a great supply of hooks, and a well–fitted medicine chest. Also there was tobacco in quantity, and amongst many other sundries were garden implements and packages of vegetable seeds.

"Some cruiser must have been here and left these things; look, there is the broad arrow on them," said Andrew, "and all the rope has the red twist in it; also the tobacco is of the navy brand. But I think it was a great many years ago—perhaps twenty or more, as Snider rifles have been out of fashion for a long while, and the cartridges look antique."

"I don't know," answered Jacks, "but thank God it did leave them, for now we shan't starve for quite a long while, though I have no experience of shooting and fishing."

All that day went by quite happily for them, engaged as they were in arranging their possessions. They cleaned the hut more thoroughly than they had at first, which it needed after being the haunt of seabirds, also apparently of rabbits, for many a year, and mended it up as best they could, for the roof was leaky and one of the stone walls bulged. For this purpose they made use of slabs of stone and of planks from the broken boat that they were able to saw and nail, as among the stores left by the unknown ship were carpenter's tools and requisites.

When night came they had not finished their task; indeed, it occupied them for several days.

During all this time, in some vague fashion they expected to be rescued. At morning, and at evening, also occasionally during the day, one of them would climb the tallest of the two hills at the back of the hut, and search the sea for smoke or sail, of course without the slightest result. At last Andrew blurted out the truth.

"We are a pair of fools, Jacks," he said. "There is not one chance in ten thousand that anyone will come here during the next twenty years."

"Surely they will search for us, my lord?"

"Why should they search, Jacks? Think of the circumstances. When the passengers and crew left the Neptune, she was expected to founder instantly, for otherwise the captain would not have gone. They could not get at us because the watertight doors were closed and in all probability could not be reopened, as the steam and electricity having been cut off, it was impossible to work the machinery. Also our only exit was closed by an immovable mass of ice. Also it was probably believed that we were already drowned down below."

"Perhaps they got the wireless to work," suggested Jacks.

"Probably they did, and sent out S.O.S. messages before they left the ship. If this happened, these may have been caught by other ships, with the result that the boats which would have hung about in the neighbourhood, perhaps under the lee of that iceberg, were picked up before the gale burst on them. There is no chance for us unless they were all lost. If that happened, of course when it is ascertained that the ship has gone, as you may remember the Waratah went, a search will be organized and within a couple of months or so some man–of–war may visit these islands on the chance of finding survivors from the Neptune. But if any of them are saved this will not happen, as we shall be amply accounted for."

"I see," said Jacks. "And to think that within a week or two of this your lordship expected to be His Excellency at Government House in Oceania with all the Staff going full steam."

"Well," answered Andrew with a laugh, "now I am His Excellency here, very much so, since what is more excellent than oneself? And you are the Prime Minister of my Government, and there is the Staff and Household," and he pointed to some fat seals lying on the rocks, also to some extremely foolish–looking penguins which stood in a line along the shore of the bay, resembling caricatures of white–tied flunkeys. "For the rest, I suppose that God is above us and the sea is certainly around, and as yet we are alive."

"It won't be for very long, I think," replied Jacks with a groan which caused Andrew to look at him anxiously.

From that day forward the poor little man began to fail. As Andrew had guessed, he received some internal injury when he fell upon him in the boat, but not one of the sort with which, skilled doctor though he was, he could hope to deal in such surroundings and without anæsthetics. As a result Jacks began to spit blood, to refuse food of the rough and plenteous sort that was available, and to waste away.

Exactly one month after their arrival on the island, he died. His last words were, "Your lordship has been very kind to me, like my own mother. I pray God that your lordship may get out of this and become Governor of Oceania, where I had hoped to serve you faithfully."

"I am not sure that I do," thought Andrew to himself, as he watched the end. "I am not sure that I do not wish I were where you have gone, my poor, true–hearted friend."

Then he closed the sightless eyes and understood what it is to be alone.