journeys with theox-cart, when, on returning to the beach, they observed, to theirsurprise and satisfaction, that a boat had been run ashore from a shiplying on the opposite side of the headland, and that the crew had leftit, evidently proceeding inland in search of provisions.
The prospect of escape immediately suggested itself, and ten minuteslater the three men had embarked, and were rowing swiftly round anotherheadland, so as to avoid being observed by those on the ship. Afterproceeding a couple of miles along a shore they well knew was deserted,they turned the boat's head and made straight for the open sea. Excitedat the prospect of freedom, all three bent to the oars, exerting everymuscle, for they were compelled to get out of sight before their absencewas discovered, otherwise they would be pursued and most probably shotdown.
Onward they pulled, until the island was only just visible, a dark blueline upon the far-off horizon: then after pausing for half-an-hour'srest, they resumed rowing with courage and confidence inspired bythoughts of the free life that lay before them.
The cool breeze of evening refreshed them, and through the long nightthey struggled on, bending to their oars with a will, even singingsnatches of songs to the rhythm of the oars in the rowlocks. Neversince their transportation had they experienced such joy as during thosefirst few hours of freedom on the wide silent sea. But happiness doesnot allay hunger, and when about midnight they thought of food, theydiscovered to their dismay that there was not a morsel of anythingeatable or a drop of fresh water in the boat.
Deep gloomy forebodings succeeded their brief period of happiness, andjust before dawn the hungry, adventurous fugitives threw themselves downin the bottom of the boat and slept. In the morning the wind dropped,and there was a dead, breathless calm, that had since been unbroken.
Hugh Trethowen sat motionless and helpless, enduring in silence agonyindescribable. Whither they were drifting he knew not, cared not. Heknew his fate was sealed.
His companion was the man who had spoken to him on that evening when hewas hesitating whether he should abandon belief in an Almighty Power,and now, as he leaned beside his fellow-convict, he was wondering whichof them would die first. His brain was on fire; he could not move hiseyes without acute pain, for their sockets felt as if they had beenfilled with molten lead. The pains through his cramped limbs wereexcruciating, yet he was in a drowsy lethargy--conscious and alive tothe fact that the bodily torture was fast sapping his life; that ere thesun went down he would be dead.
The hours of furnace heat wore on more slowly than before: hunger,thirst, and madness waxed fiercer.
With that strange faculty possessed by dying persons he seemed to livethe chief incidents of his career over again, each vividly and in rapidsuccession. But in all his wife was the central figure. The thoughtthat he should never see her again--that now, when within an ace ofregaining freedom and returning to her, he was to be cut off--rousedhim. Struggling against these gloomy apprehensions, he ground his teethand, resting his elbows on his knees, determined to conquer pain andcheat the Avenger.
Taking the handkerchief from his forehead, he dipped it into the sea andagain bandaged his head.
The other man looked up and moaned. He had passed the active stage ofsuffering. All grew more and more like a confused dream, in which hesaw nothing clearly, except, at intervals, the grave sadness ofTrethowen's face, as he sat awaiting insanity or death.
The groans of his fellow-sufferer did not escape Hugh. He groped aboutand found a small piece of canvas to lay under the man's head; it wasall he could do to make him comfortable.
There was but little difference in the condition of all three now. Eventhe madman's fit had passed away, and he was lying back motionless, withbright, fevered eyes gazing aimlessly upward into the cloudless vault ofblue.
After a long silence, broken only by the gasps and agonised groans ofthe suffering men, the convict by whose side Hugh was lying stirreduneasily, and turned his wide-open, glassy eyes towards his companion."Tre--Tre--thowen!" he gasped hoarsely.
Hugh started up in surprise. All his strength came back to him in thatmoment. It was the first time he had been addressed by name since histransportation.
"How do you know me?" he inquired in French, regarding the prostrate manwith a new interest.
The other sighed as he pressed his hand to his burning brow.
"_Dieu_!" he cried, "this awful heat will drive me mad." Then, lookinground with wolfish eyes, he asked: "What was I saying? Ah, yes, you--you don't recognise me? I cannot hide my identity any longer. I'mdying. Does a beard make such a great alteration in a man'scountenance?"
"Recognise you! How should I?" asked Hugh, now thoroughly aroused fromhis lethargy.
"Then you don't--remember--the Comte Chaulin-Serviniere--at Spa?"
"Count Lucien!--Valerie's cousin!" cried Hugh, in incredulousastonishment, as he suddenly recognised the man's features. "Why--goodGod! yes. Only imagine, we have been comrades so long, yet I failed torecognise you. How came you to be sent to this infernal doom?"
"It was _her_ doing."
"Whose?"
"Valerie's."
He ground his teeth viciously, and his bright eyes flashed as he utteredher name.
"How is that? Remember she is my wife?" Hugh exclaimed with wrath.
"Yes--alas for you?"
"What do you mean?" asked he, gazing at him fixedly, half inclined toaccept his words as the manifestation of approaching madness.
"You--you married her. Ah! I know how it was all brought about. Itwas an evil hour, an accursed day, when you tied yourself to her, forher murderous clique have made us both their victims. I meant to liveand escape, so that I could bring upon her that merciless judgment sherichly deserves, but I--I'm dying. _Dieu_! Give me water! Just onedrop!" he implored piteously. "For the love of heaven give me Somethingto drink. My throat's on fire. Can't you see I'm choking?" he added ina husky, intense voice.
Hugh looked into the dying man's face and shook his head sadly.
"Ah! none. I comprehend," he moaned. Then, with a sudden fierceness,he cried: "I'm dying--dying. _Ciel_! I shall never have thesatisfaction of witnessing her degradation, of seeing her white necksevered by Monsieur Deibler at La Roquette!"
"Tell me. What do you mean by victims?" inquired Trethowenbreathlessly.
The astonishment at discovering the identity of his comrade had givenhim renewed strength.
Again the man passed his hand across his drawn, haggard face, and wipedthe death-sweat from his brow.
"I haven't the strength--to tell you all. Ah! water--for God's sakegive me water!"
His tongue, swollen and red, was protruding from his mouth as he laypanting for breath and clutching at his parched throat in a paroxysm ofpain.
When this had subsided, he continued--
"Now--now, before it's too late, swear--swear by all you hold sacred todo my bidding."
"What do you mean? I don't understand."
"If--if I tell you the secret and you escape from this, you'll be ableto take my place as a living witness of her guilt--you'll be able towreak vengeance upon her in my stead; to end a career, dark anddishonourable, shadowed by a terrible crime."
"Relate the facts," urged the younger man impatiently, for he well knewthat the other's strength was fast failing, and feared lest the endshould come before he could narrate the story.
"You have not sworn. Take an oath to deliver her up to justice shouldyou escape, then I will show you the full extent of her villainy."
The dying man's terrible earnestness alarmed him.
"How can I do so until I am convinced?" he argued. What proof wasthere, he reflected, that Valerie had been false to him? After all,perhaps these wild words were the irresponsible expressions of a personwhose mind was unhinged.
At that moment the madman in the boat's stern started up with a fearfuloath, afterwards laughing, fiendishly, and keeping up a hideousgibbering which added to the horror of Trethowen's surroundings.
He hesitated, remembering that she was his wife, the woman he trustedimplicitly, and whom he still adored, believing her to be good and pure.Yet here was a chance to ascertain something about her past, the secretof which had been so strangely preserved by Egerton. The temptationproved too great. To humour an imbecile, he thought, was justifiable.
Turning to the dying man, he exclaimed suddenly--"I swear."
The anxious wearied expression on the man's face almost momentarilydisappeared on obtaining a decisive answer from his comrade, and after afew moments' silence he grew calmer, and his breathing became more easy.
In obedience to a motion from him, Hugh placed
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