The Rescue (53 page)

They confronted each other at the southern edge of the sands as if
afloat on the open sea. The central ridge heaped up by the winds masked
from them the very mastheads of the two ships and the growing brightness
of the light only augmented the sense of their invincible solitude
in the awful serenity of the world. Mrs. Travers suddenly put her arm
across her eyes and averted her face.

Then he added:

"That's all."

Mrs. Travers let fall her arm and began to retrace her steps,
unsupported and alone. Lingard followed her on the edge of the sand
uncovered by the ebbing tide. A belt of orange light appeared in the
cold sky above the black forest of the Shore of Refuge and faded quickly
to gold that melted soon into a blinding and colourless glare. It was
not till after she had passed Jaffir's grave that Mrs. Travers stole a
backward glance and discovered that she was alone. Lingard had left her
to herself. She saw him sitting near the mound of sand, his back bowed,
his hands clasping his knees, as if he had obeyed the invincible call of
his great visions haunting the grave of the faithful messenger. Shading
her eyes with her hand Mrs. Travers watched the immobility of that man
of infinite illusions. He never moved, he never raised his head. It was
all over. He was done with her. She waited a little longer and then went
slowly on her way.

Shaw, now acting second mate of the yacht, came off with another hand
in a little boat to take Mrs. Travers on board. He stared at her like an
offended owl. How the lady could suddenly appear at sunrise waving her
handkerchief from the sandbank he could not understand. For, even if she
had managed to row herself off secretly in the dark, she could not have
sent the empty boat back to the yacht. It was to Shaw a sort of improper
miracle.

D'Alcacer hurried to the top of the side ladder and as they met on deck
Mrs. Travers astonished him by saying in a strangely provoking tone:

"You were right. I have come back." Then with a little laugh which
impressed d'Alcacer painfully she added with a nod downward, "and
Martin, too, was perfectly right. It was absolutely unimportant."

She walked on straight to the taffrail and d'Alcacer followed her aft,
alarmed at her white face, at her brusque movements, at the nervous way
in which she was fumbling at her throat. He waited discreetly till she
turned round and thrust out toward him her open palm on which he saw a
thick gold ring set with a large green stone.

"Look at this, Mr. d'Alcacer. This is the thing which I asked you
whether I should give up or conceal—the symbol of the last hour—the
call of the supreme minute. And he said it would have made no
difference! He is the most magnanimous of men and the uttermost farthing
has been paid. He has done with me. The most magnanimous . . . but there
is a grave on the sands by which I left him sitting with no glance
to spare for me. His last glance on earth! I am left with this thing.
Absolutely unimportant. A dead talisman." With a nervous jerk she flung
the ring overboard, then with a hurried entreaty to d'Alcacer, "Stay
here a moment. Don't let anybody come near us," she burst into tears and
turned her back on him.

Lingard returned on board his brig and in the early afternoon the
Lightning got under way, running past the schooner to give her a lead
through the maze of Shoals. Lingard was on deck but never looked once
at the following vessel. Directly both ships were in clear water he went
below saying to Carter: "You know what to do."

"Yes, sir," said Carter.

Shortly after his Captain had disappeared from the deck Carter laid the
main topsail to the mast. The Lightning lost her way while the schooner
with all her light kites abroad passed close under her stern holding on
her course. Mrs. Travers stood aft very rigid, gripping the rail with
both hands. The brim of her white hat was blown upward on one side and
her yachting skirt stirred in the breeze. By her side d'Alcacer waved
his hand courteously. Carter raised his cap to them.

During the afternoon he paced the poop with measured steps, with a pair
of binoculars in his hand. At last he laid the glasses down, glanced at
the compass-card and walked to the cabin skylight which was open.

"Just lost her, sir," he said. All was still down there. He raised his
voice a little:

"You told me to let you know directly I lost sight of the yacht."

The sound of a stifled groan reached the attentive Carter and a weary
voice said, "All right, I am coming."

When Lingard stepped out on the poop of the Lightning the open water
had turned purple already in the evening light, while to the east the
Shallows made a steely glitter all along the sombre line of the shore.
Lingard, with folded arms, looked over the sea. Carter approached him
and spoke quietly.

"The tide has turned and the night is coming on. Hadn't we better get
away from these Shoals, sir?"

Lingard did not stir.

"Yes, the night is coming on. You may fill the main topsail, Mr.
Carter," he said and he relapsed into silence with his eyes fixed in
the southern board where the shadows were creeping stealthily toward the
setting sun. Presently Carter stood at his elbow again.

"The brig is beginning to forge ahead, sir," he said in a warning tone.

Lingard came out of his absorption with a deep tremor of his powerful
frame like the shudder of an uprooted tree.

"How was the yacht heading when you lost sight of her?" he asked.

"South as near as possible," answered Carter. "Will you give me a course
to steer for the night, sir?"

Lingard's lips trembled before he spoke but his voice was calm.

"Steer north," he said.