His Unknown Wife Page 9

  CHAPTER IX

  THE LOTTERY

  Maseden's prolonged absence on the first occasion was readily accountedfor by what he had done. When he reached the end of the foremast--at thejunction of spars known to the sailor as the couplings--he found thatthe topmast was, in fact, thrust tightly against the rock wall.

  Thus far, his most sanguine calculations had been justified to theletter.

  It was impossible to determine how the other end of that precariousbridge was secured. He saw at once, however, that a great strain wasbeing placed already on the stays which attached it, by chance andloosely at first, but now with ever-increasing rigidity, to the lowermast. He thought that a vigorous kick would ease the pressure by partlyfreeing one of the wire ropes which had become entangled in thesplintered wood.

  Of course, he was only choosing the lesser of two evils. If the sparsnapped a second time, the last hope of rescue was absolutely destroyed.On the other hand, by reducing the thrust on the retaining spar, theforecastle might slip.

  He kicked, and the stay was released! To the best of his belief thewreck did not move.

  Fastening the seaward end of the topmast in a rough and ready fashion,in such wise that it was held in position, yet allowed some play ifsubjected to irresistible weight, he tested it with one hand. Itremained taut. Then, murmuring something which had the semblance of aprayer, he committed himself to the crossing.

  The wind carried his body out at an astonishing angle, but he held on.Of course, he had not far to travel, because a steamer's topmast is ofno great length, but, if he lives to become a centenarian, Maseden willnever forget the extraordinary thrill of thankfulness and jubilationwhich ran through every fibre when his right foot rested on a projectingknob of rock.

  A ghostly light coming from the white maelstrom beneath enabled him tomake sure that the crevice in which the spar had stuck extended somedistance into the face of the cliff. He scrambled ashore, and found thata narrow ledge ran inward about the height of his breast. It waspracticable as far as a hand could reach; so, well knowing how preciouswas every second, he commenced the return journey.

  He simply did not allow himself to think. The slightest hesitation mighthave been fatal. He could form no sort of estimate of his own nervousstrength. He knew that any man's willpower may carry him to a certainpoint and then desert him. He realized that he was leaving a sort ofsafety for a no mean chance of speedy death; but there is safety that isdishonor, and death that is everlastingly honorable.

  Without any semblance of hesitation, this gallant young American swungforth to the desolation and chaos he had just quitted.

  Nor did his spirit quail when he had deposited a helpless woman on theledge. But his hands fumbled in untying the rope which had bound her tohim, and he became conscious of an affrighting lassitude which broughtwith it a grimmer menace than the howling furies of the reef.

  He tried to persuade himself that the poncho strapped to his back hadmade the burden of another body almost unbearable. Hurriedly unfasteningit, he said to his collapsed companion--or, rather shouted, because thedin created by the breakers was almost stupefying:

  "Are you able to hold this?"

  Probably she replied, but her utterance was swept away by the wind erethe words had crossed her lips. She took the folded cloak in her hands,and the action sufficed.

  Then Maseden left her. During this second crossing to the forecastle heknew beyond range of doubt that he had reached the limit of physicalendurance. He had eaten nothing during many hours, he had been knockedinsensible and had lost a good deal of blood. It was not in human naturethat any man, howsoever fit and active he might be, could survive theseheavy drains on his energies and yet put forth the sustained effort nowcalled for.

  It tasked his grit to the uttermost to go on this time. He knew in hisheart that a third double passage was not to be thought of.

  So, during the brief respite while a wholly insensible woman was beingtied to him, he contrived to shout to the nearest man on the spar:

  "I'm all in! You fellows must follow as best you can. It's not so badfor a man crossing alone. Turn your back to the wind."

  He had adopted that method while carrying the girl already on the rock,and the force of the gale had seemed to exert less drag on his arms.

  It needed a real life-and-death struggle to gain the ledge this time.During a minute or longer he could not even endeavor to undo the rope.He merely lurched forward on to the tiny platform and sank in a heapwith the inert body of a girl bound to his back. Then he felt dizzilythat someone was gaining a foothold on the rock behind. With a mightyeffort he bundled his own body and the girl's out of the way.

  He fancied he heard a shout and a scream, but was beyond knowing orcaring what had happened. Had he slipped down into the raging vortexbeneath and been whirled to almost instant death he would have felt asense of relief that the long drawn-out and unequal fight was ended.

  He revived under the stress of a new horror. He found himself gazingblankly into a dim obscurity in which there was neither broken topmastnor unheaved forecastle. The tons of metal piled on a slippery rock hadvanished completely, and the hapless few who had survived the slow agonyof those hours of waiting in the chart-room were hurled to death at thevery moment when fate tantalized them with the prospect of rescue!

  Someone bawled huskily in his ear:

  "They've gone! My God! What rotten luck! I could almost have touched theman crossing behind me!... Can we get these girls out of this?... Whichway did you come?"

  It was the young American passenger, Sturgess. He imagined that the manwho had brought hope and life to the doomed survivors of the _SouthernCross_ had reached the vessel from the land and could now pilot thethree who alone were saved to some place where food and repose would beattainable.

  "I'm tied to someone," Maseden contrived to say. "Try and unfasten therope, and shove me up on to the ledge.... I'm all in, but I'll soon bebetter.... Mind you hold fast yourself!"

  Sturgess, though only a degree less exhausted, did as he was asked.Sprawling weakly over the prostrate body of the second of the two girls,Maseden felt in the darkness for the other one.

  He discovered that she had collapsed sideways in a faint, but, by somemarvel, the folded cloak had not rolled down the side of the precipice.His hands were feeble and numb, but he contrived to unfasten the strap.The bottle of brandy was uninjured, and, so unnerved was he by knowingthat the spirit probably meant all the difference between life and deathfor four people--at any rate till dawn--that he actually dropped it.

  Again Providence intervened. It fell on the thick poncho, and did notbreak.

  Filled with savage resolve to conquer this weakness, he grasped thebottle more firmly, drew the cork with his teeth, and, resisting theimpulse to swallow the contents in great gulps, sipped some of theliquor slowly.

  He did not offer any to the others at that moment. His mind was clearingnow, and he saw that the one vital thing needed was that he shouldrecover control of his mental and bodily powers. A few minutes more orless of collapse mattered not so much to his companions as that heshould lead or carry them to a less exposed position. Then the brandywould be really effective. At present, to hand it around in thedarkness, while wind and spindrift were whipping them with scorpions,was merely courting the disaster which he himself had so narrowlyaverted.

  The other man had gained the ledge. He could not see Maseden, becauseeach inch of space increased an obscurity already akin to that of atomb, but he leaned forward and caught his arm.

  "Say!" he yelled. "Isn't there some way out? We'll die quick if we stophere!"

  "You must wait a little," said Maseden. "I, like yourself, was on boardthe ship. I'm going to stand up now and prospect a bit by feeling myway. Take care that neither of the women falls off. They _are_ women,aren't they?"

  "Yes. D'ye think we'd send men ashore first?"

  "I was not certain that both girls were still living."

  What a time and place for a discussion o
n the etiquette of life-savingat sea! It was typical of their race and type.

  Placing the bottle in a breast pocket Maseden rose cautiously to hisfeet. Gripping the rock with his hands, he stepped over the unconsciousform of the first girl he brought ashore. Evidently she had collapsedwhen the forecastle was swept away before her eyes.

  The ledge led straight into the crevice he had entered during daylight,and though very uneven, trended generally upward. He had to depend, ofcourse, wholly on the sense of touch, since the darkness here was thatof a deep mine.

  Some thirty feet inland he was halted abruptly. The ledge seemed towiden out and then end against an overhanging rock. But the place wasdry, and the wind hardly penetrated, while the deafening thunder of thereef had died down to a harsh growl. By comparison with the sea facethis secluded nook was a niche in Paradise. At any rate, here it waspossible to await daylight without necessarily dying from exposure.

  He hurried back, having memorized each inequality of floor and wall onthe journey of exploration.

  "Are you able to carry one of those girls?" he shouted to Sturgess whenhe was once more in the midst of the external uproar.

  "How far?"

  "Not more than fifteen short strides. Take her in your left arm, andfeel the rock face on the right. Keep close in. I'm not certain aboutthe width of this ledge. It rises a little, but is fairly straight."

  "Go right ahead!"

  Soon the two men were in the haven of shelter at the further end. Eachwas clasping an inanimate woman, but happily, speech no longer demandeda straining of vocal chords.

  "Is this the limit of the accommodation?" inquired Sturgess, obeying hisguide's restraining hand.

  "Yes."

  "Do we sit right down and hope that the sun will rise sometime?"

  "Not yet.... Here! Grope this way. I am giving you a bottle of brandy.Drink some, not much, because we must hoard it. Then we'll try and get afew drops between these girls' teeth. After that we must rub their handsand ankles till the friction hurts. It may revive them. I don't know. Itis the only plan I can think of. When they recover, if ever, we'll seatthem side by side with their backs to the rock, you and I will squeezeclose, one on each side, and I have a poncho which will cover the lot.By that means we may obtain some degree of warmth in common."

  "Old man, you said a page full!"

  There was silence for a few seconds. Then Sturgess said gratefully:

  "Gee! That's some tonic! Now, how about those girls?"

  "Give me the bottle. This lady was conscious when I brought her ashore.She may recover quickly."

  The almost tangible blackness in which the little group of people waswrapped greatly enhanced the difficulties attending restorativemeasures. Maseden discovered that the abundant hair of the girl he washugging so closely to his heart had become loose, and was in a wettangle about her throat and mouth.

  The clinging strands were troublesome, but, by prizing her lips openbetween a finger and thumb, he contrived to make her swallow a few dropsof the brandy. In fact, while he was yet doubting the efficacy of thedose, some slight convulsive movements showed that consciousness wasreturning.

  He laid her carefully down, and told the American to do likewise withthe sister. Sturgess seemed to be curiously slow to obey, and Masedenadmonished him sharply, thinking the other might be dazed.

  "Now, rub hard!" he said. "First her left hand--then her left ankle."

  Both set to work with a will. Maseden could not understand why theunhappy girl should be nearly naked. The stockings had fallen about hershoes. For the rest, her chief garment was an oilskin coat.

  He, be it remembered, had been spared the hard usage of the waves, andhis clothing was better adapted to existing conditions. He was shockedto find how cold she was, how icy and lifeless her flesh. He urgedSturgess not to spare her.

  Their rough and ready massage soon proved effective. The girl gaspedsomething incoherent, and strove to withdraw her limbs from a distinctlystrenuous handling.

  "_She's_ nearly all right, now," announced Maseden briskly. "Sharp's theword with the other one."

  The second patient offered a longer task. By the time she gave any signof life her sister was frantically asking what had become of her, andwas only quieted by Maseden saying sternly:

  "You will help most by not bothering us. We are doing our best for yoursister. She is here, and may recover. That is all I can tell you."

  "We? Who are we?" came the broken cry.

  "Mr. Sturgess, yourself, your sister and I. My name is Maseden."

  He caught a strangled gasp of astonishment, but Sturgess broke inbreathlessly, for the exertion was warming him:

  "Great Scott! You've got my name pat, Mr. Maseden. D'ye mean--totell--me--you were--on board--that poor old ship?"

  "Rub! And don't talk!... She moved a little then."

  His judgment was well founded. Within a few minutes he heard the secondgirl address her sister as Nina.

  So this one was Madge, his wife! He had literally brought her back fromthe very gates of death. He could not even see her. What a curiouscoincidence that when she saved his life, and he saved hers, she wasequally hidden from him; then by a veil, now by the pall of the darkestnight he had ever experienced!

  The girls began exchanging broken confidences. Madge, who had faintedwhile being towed across the fearsome chasm between bridge andforecastle, did not know of the loss of the captain and chief and secondofficers, with a passenger, until told by Nina. She wept bitterly, andMaseden could not help noticing that Sturgess tried to console her in avery lover-like manner.

  He actually smiled at the tragic humor of it all, especially when Ninaseemed to sense his thought, and valiantly interfered by bidding Madgenot to add to their misery by useless grief. He refrained purposely fromgiving them any more brandy until some time had elapsed. Now that theirfaculties were restored, he knew, from his own experiences, that theirtongues and palates were on fire with the salt-laden atmosphere they hadperforce inhaled during so many hours.

  But each minute of quiet in this sheltered nook, and in breathable air,would do much to alleviate their suffering, and he trusted to the brandyto put them to sleep.

  In effect, that was what actually happened. When each of the four hadswallowed a small quantity of the spirit Maseden and Sturgess nestled inbeside the two girls and tucked the poncho over knees and feet. Thebodies of the men served as excellent shields. In the physical andmental reaction which set in with the consciousness of assuredsafety--because that was what both girls thought, and neither man caredto weaken their faith--they were sound asleep within half an hour of thetime they left the wreck.

  Sturgess, too, was worn out, and slept fitfully, but it was long beforeMaseden's overtaxed nerves would yield. He could not help speculating asto what wretched hap the coming day might bring. There was a gnawingdread in his mind that they might be lodged in a fissure of anunscalable cliff. If that were so, what a fearsome prospect lay beforethem! The mere notion was unendurable, and he resolutely refused todwell on it.

  Then he mused on the queer chance which, even in this small company,divorced him from his wife. He had rescued Nina first. By the accidentof situation he was nearest the rock which closed the ledge, and shenext. It was her body, not his wife's, to which he was close pressed,and in which his more vigorous frame had already induced a certaincomfortable warmth.

  Her head had fallen on his shoulder. An unconscious movement revealedthat some roughness in the rock wall was hurtful, so he put his left armaround her neck and pillowed her gently.

  Try as he might, he found himself still brooding on the chances of thecoming day. Fortune favoring, they might find a way to the summit of thecliff. Would they be much better off? Water they would surelyobtain--but what of food?

  Somehow, in such woful plight, a man's mind turns instinctively to apipe. He actually had a cherished briar between his teeth and a tobaccopouch in his hand, when his heart sank at the remembrance that he hadstruck the last match in the onl
y box of matches in his pocket afterbreakfast that morning. He recollected tossing the empty box into thesea. Subsequently, in lighting a cigar, he had borrowed a match.

  Searching his pockets without disturbing the exhausted girl by his side,he made sure of the unhappy truth. He had no match. Even if they reachedthe interior of the island they could not possibly start a fire.

  He knew at once that Sturgess, who had been soaked in salt water formany hours, was in a worse predicament than himself, because his ownclothing was dry inside, whereas the other was wet to the skin, and anymatches he might have carried must be in a pulp.

  Tucked away in a money belt, Maseden carried ten thousand dollars inAmerican bills, yet one small box of matches would be of far greaterpractical value in that hour than all the money. Slight wonder, then, ifhis stout heart failed him at last and the darkness closed in on hissoul as on his eyes.

  The sleeping girl, conscious only of warmth and protection, snuggled herhead a little nearer.

  "Mother, darling," she murmured, "we had to do it! We had no choice. Itwas for your dear sake!"

  That was all--some troubled confidence of a dream--but it sufficed toset Maseden musing on the strange vortex into which fate had sucked himfrom the peace and seclusion of Los Andes ranch.

  His mind wandered. He saw again the magnificent groves of mahogany treesand coyal palms, with their golden flowers fully three feet in height,and the _chicka_ sap oozing from the bark. He sauntered through thewell-cultivated plantations of bananas, yams, arrow-root, guavas, andall the fruit and cereals which that favored region of Central Americaproduces in such abundance that men grow lazy and are content to plotand thieve rather than toil. He particularly recalled a number of"chocolate" trees, the marvelous growth which yields a more delicatelyflavored beverage than the cocoa-tree.

  The original owner of the ranch prided himself on thesetrees--botanically, the _Herrania purpurea_--because they were notindigenous to San Juan, but had been brought from Guatemala. Los Andesranch was indeed a veritable Garden of Eden.

  While roaming through it in spirit Maseden dropped off to sleep.

  And that was a kindly act on the part of a Providence which marks eventhe fall of a sparrow from a house-top. A full day lay before this manand those others committed to his care. Even a couple of hours' fitfulrepose served as a splendid restorative. Without some such respite hecould never have faced and carried through the almost Sisyphean taskwhich awaited him at daylight.

  He awoke with a shiver. He was chilled to the bone. Not knowing what hewas doing, he had drawn the poncho closely over Nina Gray, leaving hisown limbs almost uncovered. Startled lest the others might be stiff indeath, since his clothes were dry, while theirs, such as they possessed,were wet, he touched the girl's cheek. It was quite warm and soft.

  The oilskins she and her sister wore and the huddling together of thefour under the heavy poncho had generated a moist heat which probablyhelped to preserve the two delicate women from some type of deadlypneumonia.

  At first it did not strike Maseden as strange that he should be able tosee her face. As the initial feeling of panic passed, and he glancedaround, he understood what had happened. The sky was clear, and themoon, late risen, was spreading a mild radiance over rocks and sea.

  By raising himself a little, so as not to disturb the sleeper stilltrustfully tucked under his arm, he peered sidewise down on the reef.The tide was high, and great rollers were smashing over the barrierwhich had broken the _Southern Cross_.

  So far as he could tell, not a vestige of the ship remained. Bridge andchart-house had vanished. He fancied that some part of the frameworkaccounted for a particularly vexed boiling of the surges on a spot wherethe engines and stoke-hold had lodged. But that was only guesswork.

  The morning tide had done its work with thoroughness. The _SouthernCross_ had become a memory.

  Then he surveyed the ledge and the cleft. Apparently, at this point, hewas some twenty feet above high-water mark. To the left was the sea. Tothe right, the rock overhung the ledge in such wise that the place wasalmost a cave. This fact, combined with the elevation of the oppositewall, explained the shelter the castaways had been vouchsafed from thebitter gale now blowing itself out. But it was affrighting to realizethat the very physical feature which provided a refuge might also immurethem in a living tomb.

  He shuddered, and moved involuntarily, and the girl awoke with a start.

  She lifted her head, and gazed at him with uncomprehending eyes.

  "Where am I?" she said, rather in wonderment than alarm.

  "Somewhere on the coast of Chile," he said.

  She extricated a hand from the folds of the poncho and swept the erranthair from her face. Turning partly, she looked at her sister andSturgess.

  "I remember now," she said slowly. Then she discovered that Maseden'sarm was supporting her shoulders.

  "Have you held me like that all night?" she inquired.

  "'All night' is a figure of speech. It is not yet daybreak. This ismoonlight."

  "The moon! Does the moon still shine? But your arm must be weary."

  Maseden was just beginning to realize that he owned a left arm.Circulation was being restored, and he knew it.

  "Now that you mention it," he said quietly, "I believe it is."

  She spoke again, but he was in such agony that he broke out in aperspiration, a most fortunate circumstance, since he was perished withcold. The spasm did not last long, however, and he found his voiceagain.

  "Are you Miss Nina Gray?" he asked, and, in the same breath, wasconscious of the absurd formality of the question in the conditions.

  She did not answer.

  "We may as well become acquainted," he went on, smiling at the queerturn their first words had taken.

  "Now I remember everything," she said, burying her face in her hands.

  "I can't have you crying," he muttered with a certain roughness. "Tearswon't help. We're in a pretty bad fix, and must meet developmentscalmly."

  "I'm not crying," she said, dropping her hands, and looking at him asthough to offer proof.

  "Then you can at least tell me your name, though I'm almost sure thatyou are Nina. Even here, your sister, who is also my wife, keeps awayfrom me."

  "That is unjust. You saved both of us, but I kept my senses, and she didnot. You asked me if I was Nina Gray. I am not. My name is Nina Forbes."

  Maseden was stung into a revolt as fantastic as it was sudden.

  "Good Lord!" he cried. "Are you married?"

  "Please let me explain. Mr. Gray was not my father, but my stepfather.My mother married again. I--wanted to tell you. But does it reallymatter? Why are we discussing such trivial things? Are we four the onlysurvivors of the wreck?"

  "I suppose so."

  "Mr. Gray died--while we were in the chart-room. He was an invalid--aneurotic. He could not withstand hardship of any sort. But the captainand chief officer were behind me on that mast.... Ah! I had forgottenthat. I fainted, didn't I?"

  "Yes."

  Madge stirred uneasily. Their voices had aroused her.

  "Don't be unkind to Madge," said the girl hurriedly. "Neither of uscould help what happened in San Juan. We thought we were acting for thebest. Our lives are still in jeopardy, I imagine. Won't you be good andforget that unfortunate marriage?"

  "I won't talk of it, if that is what you mean. But I can hardly regardit as unfortunate. It undoubtedly saved my life."

  Madge awoke with a cry.

  "Nina!" she screamed. "Oh, Nina, is that you? Are we really alive?"