CHAPTER VIII
THE SUNK ROCKS AND THE SINGER
Morris arrived home in safety, and speedily settled the question ofthe drainage mill to the satisfaction of all concerned. But he did notreturn to Beaulieu. To begin with, although the rural authorities ceasedto trouble them, his father was most urgent that he should stay andsupervise the putting up of the new farm buildings, and wrote to himnearly every day to this effect. It occurred to his son that under thecircumstances he might have come to look after the buildings himself;also, that perhaps he found the villa at Beaulieu more comfortablewithout his presence; a conjecture in which he was perfectly correct.
Upon the first point, also, letters from Mary soon enlightened him. Itappeared that shortly after his departure Sir Jonah, in a violent fitof rage, brought on by drink and a remark of his wife's that had shemarried Colonel Monk she "would have been a happy woman," burst a smallblood-vessel in his head, with the strange result that from a raginganimal of a man he had been turned into an amiable and perfectlyharmless imbecile. Under so trying a domestic blow, naturally, Maryexplained, Colonel Monk felt it to be his duty to support and comforthis old friend to the best of his ability. "This," added Mary, "he doesfor about three hours every day. I believe, indeed, that a place isalways laid for him at meals, while poor Sir Jonah, for whom I feelquite sorry, although he was such a horrid man, sits in an armchair andsmiles at him continually."
So Morris determined to take the advice which Mary gave him veryplainly, and abandoned all idea of returning to Beaulieu, at any rate,on this side of Christmas. His plans settled, he went to work with awill, and was soon deeply absorbed in the manufacture of experimentalreceivers made from the new substance. So completely, indeed, did thesepossess his mind that, as Mary at last complained, his letters to hermight with equal fitness have been addressed to an electrical journal,since from them even diagrams were not lacking.
So things went on until the event occurred which was destined profoundlyand mysteriously to affect the lives of Morris and his affianced wife.That event was the shipwreck of the steam tramp, Trondhjem, upon thewell-known Sunk Rocks outside the Sands which run parallel to the coastat a distance of about five knots from the Monksland cliff. In this yearof our story, about the middle of November, the weather set in verymild and misty. It was the third of these "roky" nights, and the sea-fogpoured along the land like vapour from an opened jar of chemicals.Morris was experimenting at the forge in his workshop very late--or,rather early, for it was near to two o'clock in the morning--when of asudden through the open window, rising from the quiet sea beneath, heheard the rattle of oars in rowlocks. Wondering what a boat could bedoing so near inshore at a season when there was no night fishing, hewent to the window to listen. Presently he caught the sound of voicesshouting in a tongue with which he was unacquainted, followed by anothersound, that of a boat being beached upon the shingle immediately belowthe Abbey. Now guessing that something unusual must have happened,Morris took his hat and coat, and, unlocking the Abbot's door, lit alantern, and descended the cement steps to the beach. Here he foundhimself in the midst of ten or twelve men, most of them tall andbearded, who were gathered about a ship's boat which they had dragged uphigh and dry. One of these men, who from his uniform he judged to bethe captain, approached and addressed him in a language that he did notunderstand, but imagined must be Danish or Norwegian.
Morris shook his head to convey the blankness of his ignorance,whereupon other men addressed him, also in northern tongues. Then, as hestill shook his head, a lad of about nineteen came forward and spoke inbroken and barbarous French.
"Naufrage la bas," he said; "bateau a vapeur, naufrage sur lesrochers--brouillard. Nouse echappe."
"Tous?" asked Morris.
The young man shrugged his shoulders as though he were doubtful on thepoint, then added, pointing to the boat:
"Homme beaucoup blesse, pasteur anglais."
Morris went to the cutter, and, holding up the lantern, looked down, tofind an oldish man with sharp features, dark eyes, and grizzled beard,lying under a tarpaulin in the bottom of the boat. He was clothedonly in a dressing gown and a blood-stained nightshirt, groaning andsemi-unconscious.
"Jambe casse, beaucoup mal casse," explained the French scholar.
"Apportez-le vite apres moi," said Morris. This order having beentranslated by the youth, several stalwart sailors lifted up the injuredman, and, placing the tarpaulin beneath him, took hold of it by thesides and corners. Then, following Morris, they bore him as gently asthey could up the steps into the Abbey to a large bedroom upon the firstfloor, where they laid him upon the bed.
Meanwhile, by the industrious ringing of bells as they went, Morris hadsucceeded in rousing a groom, a page-boy, and the cook. The first ofthese he sent off post haste for Dr. Charters. Next, having directedthe cook to give the foreign sailormen some food and beer, he toldthe page-boy to conduct them to the Sailors' Home, a place of refugeprovided, as is common upon this stormy coast, for the accommodationof distressed and shipwrecked mariners. As he could extract nothingfurther, it seemed useless to detain them at the Abbey. Then, pendingthe arrival of the doctor, with the assistance of the old housekeeper,he set to work to examine the patient. This did not take long, for hisinjuries were obvious. The right thigh was broken and badly bruised,and he bled from a contusion upon the forehead. This wound upon his headseemed also to have affected his brain; at any rate, he was unable tospeak coherently or to do more than mutter something about "shipwreck"and "steamer Trondhjem," and to ask for water.
Thinking that at least it could do no harm, Morris gave him a cup ofsoup, which had been hastily prepared. Just as the patient finisheddrinking it, which he did eagerly, the doctor arrived, and after a swiftexamination administered some anaesthetic, and got to work to set thebroken limb.
"It's a bad smash--very bad," he explained to Morris; "something musthave fallen on him, I think. If it had been an inch or two higher, he'dhave lost his leg, or his life, or both, as perhaps he will now. At thebest it means a couple of months or so on his back. No, I think thecut on his head isn't serious, although it has knocked him silly for awhile."
At length the horrid work was done, and the doctor, who had to returnto a confinement case in the village, departed. Before he went he toldMorris that he hoped to be back by five o'clock. He promised also thatbefore his return he would call in at the Sailor's Home to see that thecrew were comfortable, and discover what he could of the details of thecatastrophe. Meanwhile for his part, Morris undertook to watch in thesick-room.
For nearly three hours, while the drug retained his grip of him, thepatient remained comatose. All this while Morris sat at his bedsidewondering who he might be, and what curious circumstance could havebrought him into the company of these rough Northmen sailors. To hisprofession he had a clue, although no sure one, for round his neck theman wore a silver cross suspended by a chain. This suggested that hemight be a clergyman, and went far to confirm the broken talk of theFrench-speaking sailor. Clearly, also, he was a person of some breedingand position, the refinement of his face and the delicacy of his handsshowed as much. While Morris was watching and wondering, suddenly theman awoke, and began to talk in a confused fashion.
"Where am I?" he asked.
"At Monksland," answered Morris.
"That's all right, that's where I should be, but the ship, theship"--then a pause and a cry: "Stella, Stella!"
Morris pricked his ears. "Where is Stella?" he asked.
"On the rocks. She struck, then darkness, all darkness. Stella, comehere, Stella!"
A memory awoke in the mind of Morris, and he leant over the patient, whoagain had sunk into delirium.
"Do you mean Stella Fregelius?" he asked.
The man turned his flushed face and opened his dark eyes.
"Of course, Stella Fregelius--who else? There is only one Stella," andagain he became incoherent.
For a while Morris plied him with further questions; but as he couldobtain no coher
ent answer, he gave him his medicine and left him quiet.Then for another half-hour or so he sat and watched, while a certaintheory took shape in his mind. This gentleman must be the new rector.It seemed as though, probably accompanied by his daughter, he had takenpassage in a Danish tramp boat bound for Northwold, which had touchedat some Northumbrian port. Morris knew that the incoming clergyman hada daughter, for, now that he thought of it, he had heard Mr. Tomleymention the fact at the dinner-party on the night when he becameengaged. Yes, and certainly she was named Stella. But there was no womanamong those who had come to land, and he understood the injured man tosuggest that his daughter had been left upon the steamer which was saidto have gone ashore upon some rocks; or, perhaps, upon the Sunk Rocksthemselves.
Now, the only rocks within twenty miles of them were these famous SunkRocks, about six knots away. Even within his own lifetime four vesselshad been lost there, either because they had missed, or mistaken, thelightship signal further out to sea, as sometimes happened in a fog suchas prevailed this night, or through false reckonings. The fate ofall these vessels had been identical; they had struck upon the reef,rebounded or slid off, and foundered in deep water. Probably in thiscase the same thing had happened. At least, the facts, so far as he knewthem, pointed to that conclusion. Evidently the escape of the crew hadbeen very hurried, for they had saved nothing. He judged also that theclergyman, Mr. Fregelius, having rushed on deck, had been injured by thefall of some spar or block consequent upon the violence of the impactof the vessel upon the reef, and in this hurt condition had been throwninto the boat by the sailors.
Then where was the daughter Stella? Was she killed in the same fashionor drowned? Probably one or the other. But there was a third barepossibility, which did no credit to the crew, that she had beenforgotten in the panic and hurry, and left behind on the sinking ship.
At first Morris thought of rousing the captain of the lifeboat. Onreflection, however, he abandoned this idea, for really what had he togo on beyond the scanty and disjointed ravings of a delirious man? Verypossibly the girl Stella was not upon the ship at all. Probably, also,hours ago that vessel had vanished from the eyes of men for ever. Tosend out the lifeboat upon such a wild-goose chase would be to turnhimself into a laughing-stock.
Still something drew his thoughts to that hidden line of reef, and theship which might still be hanging on it, and the woman who might stillbe living in the ship.
It was a painful vision from which he could not free his mind.
Then there came to him an idea. Why should he not go to the Sunk Rocksand look? There was a light breeze off land, and with the help of thepage-boy, who was sitting up, as the tide was nearing its full he couldmanage to launch his small sailing-boat, which by good fortune was stillberthed near the beach steps. It was a curious chance that this shouldbe so, seeing that in most seasons she would have been by now removedto the shed a mile away, to be out of reach of possible damage from thefurious winter gales. As it happened, however, the weather remaining soopen, this had not been done. Further, the codlings having begun to runin unusual numbers, as is common upon this coast in late autumn, Morristhat very morning had taken the boat out to fish for them, an amusementwhich he proposed to resume on the morrow in the hope of better sport.Therefore the boat had her sails on board, and was in every way readyfor sea.
Why should he not go? For one reason only that he could suggest. Therewas a certain amount of risk in sailing about the Sunk Rocks in a fog,even for a tiny craft like his, for here the currents were very sharp;also, in many places the points of the rocks were only just beneath thesurface of the water. But he knew the dangerous places well enough if hecould see them, as he ought to be able to do, for the dawn should breakbefore he arrived. And, after all, what was a risk more or less in life?He would go. He felt impelled--strangely impelled--to go, though ofcourse it was all nonsense, and probably he would be back by nineo'clock, having seen nothing at all.
By this time the injured Mr. Fregelius had sunk into sleep or stupor,doubtless beneath the influence of the second draught which he hadadministered to him in obedience to the doctor's orders. On his account,therefore, Morris had no anxiety, since the cook, a steady, middle-agedwoman, could watch by him for the present.
He called her and gave her instructions, bidding her tell the doctorwhen he came that he had gone to see if he could make out anything moreabout the wreck, and that he would be back soon. Then, ordering thepage-boy, a stout lad, to accompany him, he descended the steps, andtogether, with some difficulty, they succeeded in launching the boat.Now for a moment Morris hesitated, wondering whether he should take theyoung man with him; but remembering that this journey was not withoutits dangers, finally he decided to go alone.
"I am just going to have a sail round, Thomas, to look if I can make outanything about that ship."
"Yes, sir," remarked Thomas, doubtfully. "But it is rather a queer timeto hunt for her, and in this sea-haze too, especially round the SunkRocks. Shall I leave the lunch basket in the locker, sir, or take it upto the house?"
"Leave it; it wasn't touched to-day, and I might be glad of somebreakfast," Morris answered. Then, having hoisted his sail, he sathimself in the stern, with the tiller in one hand and the sheet in theother. Instantly the water began to lap gently against the bow, and inanother minute he glided away from the sight of the doubting Thomas,vanishing like some sea-ghost into the haze and that chill darknesswhich precedes the dawn.
It was very dark, and the mist was very damp, and the wind, what therewas of it, very cold, especially as in his hurry he had forgotten tobring a thick ulster, and had nothing but a covert coat and a thinoil-skin to wear. Moreover, he could not see in the least where he wasgoing, or do more than lay his course for the Sunk Rocks by means of theboat's compass, which he consulted from time to time by the help of abull's-eye lantern.
This went on for nearly an hour, by the end of which Morris beganto wonder why he had started upon such a fool's errand. Also, he wasgrowing alarmed. He knew that by now he should be in the neighbourhoodof the reef, and fancied, indeed, that he could hear the water lappingagainst its rocks. Accordingly, as this reef was ill company in thedark, Morris hauled down his sail, and in case he should have reachedthe shallows, threw out his little anchor, which was attached to sixfathoms of chain. At first it swung loose, but four or five minuteslater, the boat having been carried onward into fleeter water by theswift current that was one of the terrors of the Sunk Rocks, it touchedbottom, dragged a little, and held fast.
Morris gave a sigh of relief, for that blind journey among unknowndangers was neither safe nor pleasant. Now, at least, in this quietweather he could lie where he was till light came, praying that a windmight not come first. Already the cold November dawn was breaking inthe east; he was able to see the reflection of it upon the fog, and thesurface of the water, black and oily-looking, became visible as it sweptpast the sides of his boat. Now, too, he was sure that the rocks mustbe close at hand, for he could hear the running tide distinctly as itwashed against them and through the dense growth of seaweed that clungto their crests and ridges.
Presently, too, he heard something else, which at first caused him torub his eyes in the belief that he must have fallen asleep and dreamt;nothing less, indeed, than the sound of a woman's voice. He began toreason with himself. What was there strange in this? He was told, orhad inferred, that a woman had been left upon a ship. Doubtless thiswas she, upon some rock or raft, perhaps. Only then she would have beencrying for help, and this voice was singing, and in a strange tongue,more sweetly than he had heard woman sing before.
It was incredible, it was impossible. What woman would sing in a winterdaybreak upon the Sunk Rocks--sing like the siren of old fable? Yet,there, quite close to him, over the quiet sea rose the song, strong,clear, and thrilling. Once it ceased, then began again in a deeper,more triumphant note, such as a Valkyrie might have sung as she led someNorn-doomed host to their last battle.
Morris sat and listened with parted l
ips and eyes staring at the fleecymist. He did not move or call out, because he was certain that he mustbe the victim of some hallucination, bred of fog, or of fatigue, or ofcold; and, as it was very strange and moving, he had no desire to breakin upon its charm.
So there he sat while the triumphant, splendid song rolled and thrilledabove him, and by degrees the grey light of morning grew to right andleft. To right and left it grew, but, strangely enough, although henever noted it at the time, he and his boat lay steeped in shadow. Thenof a sudden there was a change.
A puff of wind from the north seemed to catch the fog and roll it uplike a curtain, so that instantly all the sea became visible, brokenhere and there by round-headed, weed-draped rocks. Out of the east alsopoured a flood of light from the huge ball of the rising sun, and now itwas that Morris learned why the gloom had been so thick about him, forhis boat lay anchored full in the shadow of the lost ship Trondhjem.There, not thirty yards away, rose her great prow; the cutwater, whichstood up almost clear, showing that she had forced herself on to aridge of rock. There, too, poised at the extreme point of the slopingforecastle, and supporting herself with one hand by a wire rope that ranthence to the foremast, was the woman to whose siren-like song he hadbeen listening.
At that distance he could see little of her face; but the new-wakenedwind blew the long dark hair about her head, while round her, fallingalmost to her naked feet, was wrapped a full red cloak. Had Morriswished to draw the picture of a Viking's daughter guiding her father'sship into the fray, there, down to the red cloak, bare feet, and flyingtresses, stood its perfect model.
The wild scene gripped his heart. Whoever saw the like of it? This girlwho sang in the teeth of death, the desolate grey face of ocean, thebrown and hungry rocks, the huge, abandoned ship, and over all the angryrays of a winter sunrise.
Thus, out of the darkness of the winter night, out of the bewilderingwhite mists of the morning, did this woman arise upon his sight, thisstrange new star begin to shine upon his life and direct his destiny.
At the moment that he saw her she seemed to see him. At any rate, sheceased her ringing, defiant song, and, leaning over the netting rail,stared downwards.
Morris began to haul at his anchor; but, though he was a strong man,at first he could not lift it. Just as he was thinking of slipping thecable, however, the little flukes came loose from the sand or weeds inwhich they were embedded, and with toil and trouble he got it shipped.Then he took a pair of sculls and rowed until he was nearly under theprow of the Trondhjem. It was he, too, who spoke first.
"You must come to me," he called.
"Yes," the woman answered, leaning over the rail; "I will come, but how?Shall I jump into the water?"
"No," he said, "it is too dangerous. You might strike against a rock orbe taken by the current. The companion ladder seems to be down on thestarboard side. Go aft to it, I will row round the ship and meet youthere."
She nodded her head, and Morris started on his journey. It provedperilous. To begin with, there were rocks all about. Also, here the tideor the current, or both, ran with the speed of a mill-race, so thatin places the sea bubbled and swirled like a boiling kettle. Howeverskilled and strong he might be, it was hard for one man to deal withsuch difficulties and escape disaster. Still following the port sideof the ship, since owing to the presence of certain rocks he dared notattempt the direct starboard passage, he came at last to her stern. Thenhe saw how imminent was the danger, for the poop of the vessel,which seemed to be of about a thousand tons burden, was awash andwater-logged, but rolling and lifting beneath the pressure of the tideas it drew on to flood.
To Morris, who had lived all his life by the sea, and understood suchmatters, it was plain that presently she would float, or be torn offthe point of the rock on which she hung, broken-backed, and sink in thehundred-fathom-deep water which lay beyond the reef. There was no timeto spare, and he laboured at his oars fiercely, till at length, partlyby skill and partly by good fortune, he reached the companion ladder andfastened to it with a boat-hook.
Now no woman was to be seen; she had vanished. Morris called and called,but could get no answer, while the great dead carcass of the ship rolledand laboured above, its towering mass of iron threatening to fall andcrush him and his tiny craft to nothingness. He shouted and shoutedagain; then in despair lashed his boat to the companion, and ran up theladder.
Where could she have gone? He hurried forward along the heaving, jerkingdeck to the main hatchway. Here he hesitated for a moment; then, knowingthat, if anywhere, she must be below, set his teeth and descended. Thesaloon was a foot deep in water, which washed from side to side with aheavy, sickening splash, and there, carrying a bag in one hand, holdingup her garments with the other, and wading towards him from the dryupper part of the cabin, at last he found the lady whom he sought.
"Be quick!" he shouted; "for God's sake, be quick! The ship is comingoff the rock."
She splashed towards him; now he had her by the hand; now they wereon the deck, and now he was dragging her after him down the companionladder. They reached the boat, and just as the ship gave a great rolltowards them, Morris seized the oars and rowed like a madman.
"Help me!" he gasped; "the current is against us." And, sitting oppositeto him, she placed her hands upon his hands, pressing forward as hepulled. Her slight strength made a difference, and the boat forgedahead--thirty, forty, seventy yards--till they reached a rock to which,exhausted, he grappled with a hook, bidding her hold on to the floatingseaweed. Thus they rested for thirty seconds, perhaps, when she spokefor the first time:
"Look!" she said.
As she spoke the steamer slid and lifted off the reef. For a few momentsshe wallowed; then suddenly her stern settled, her prow rose slowly inthe air till it stood up straight, fifty or sixty feet of it. Then, witha majestic, but hideous rush, down went the Trondhjem and vanished forever.
All round about her the sea boiled and foamed, while in the greathollow which she made on the face of the waters black lumps of wreckageappeared and disappeared.
"Tight! hold tight!" he cried, "or she will suck us after her."
Suck she did, till the water poured over the gunwale. Then, the worstpassed, and the boat rose again. The foam bubbles burst or floated awayin little snowy heaps; the sea resumed its level, and, save for thefloating debris, became as it had been for thousands of years before thelost Trondhjem rushed downward to its depths.
Now, for the first time, knowing the immediate peril past, Morris lookedat the face of his companion. It was a fine face, and beautiful in itsway. Dark eyes, very large and perfect, whereof the pupils seemed toexpand and contract in answer to every impulse of the thoughts within.Above the eyes long curving lashes and delicately pencilled, archedeyebrows, and above them again a forehead low and broad. The chinrounded; the lips full, rich, and sensitive; the complexion of a clearand beautiful pallor; the ears tiny; the hands delicate; the figureslim, of medium height, and alive with grace; the general effect mostuncommon, and, without being lovely, breathing a curious power andpersonality.
Such was the woman whom he had saved from death.
"Oh, how splendid!" she said in her deep voice, and clasping her hands."What a death! For ship or man, what a death! And after it the greatcalm sea, taking and ready to take for ever."
"Thank Heaven that it did not take you," answered Morris wrathfully.
"Why?" she answered.
"Because you are still alive, who by now would have been dead."
"It seems that it was not fated this time," she answered, adding: "Thenext it may be different."
"Yes," he said reflectively; "the next it may be different, MissFregelius."
She started. "How do you know my name?" she asked.
"From your father's lips. He is ashore at my house. The sailors musthave seen the light in my workshop and steered for it."
"My father?" she gasped. "He is still alive? But, oh, how is thatpossible? He would never have left me."
"Yes, he
lives, but with a broken thigh and his head cut open. He wasbrought ashore senseless, so you need not be ashamed of him. Thosesailors are the cowards."
She sighed, as though in deep relief. "I am very glad. I had made up mymind that he must be dead, for of course I knew that he would never haveleft me otherwise. It did not occur to me that he might be carriedaway senseless. Is he--" and she paused, then added: "tell me theworst--quick."
"No; the doctor thinks in no danger at present; only a break of thethigh and a scalp wound. Of course, he could not help himself, for hecan have known no more than a corpse of what was passing," he went on."It is those sailors who are to blame--for leaving you on the ship, Imean."
She shrugged her shoulders contemptuously.
"The sailors! From such rough men one does not expect much. They hadlittle time, and thought of themselves, not of a passenger, whom theyhad scarcely seen. Thank God they did not leave my father behind also."
"You do not thank God for yourself," said Morris curiously, as heprepared to hoist the sail, for his mind harked back to his oldwonderment.
"Yes, I do, but it was not His will that I should die last night. I havetold you that it was not fated," she answered.
"Quite so. That is evident now; but were I in your case this reallyremarkable escape would make me wonder what is fated."
"Yes, it does a little; but not too much, for you see I shall learn intime. You might as well wonder how it happened that you arrived to saveme, and to what end."
Morris hesitated, for this was a new view of the case, before heanswered.
"That your life should be saved, I suppose."
"And why should it happen that your boat should come to save me?"
"I don't know; chance, I suppose."
"Neither do I; but I don't believe in chance. Everything has its meaningand purpose."
"Only one so seldom finds it out. Life is too short, I suppose," repliedMorris.
By now the sail was up, the boat was drawing ahead, and he was seated ather side holding the tiller.
"Why did you go down into the saloon, Miss Fregelius?" he askedpresently.
She glanced at herself, and now, for the first time, he noticed that shewore a dress beneath her red cloak, and that there were slippers on herfeet, which had been bare.
"I could not come into the boat as I was," she explained, dropping hereyes. "The costume which is good enough to be drowned in is not fittedfor company. My cabin was well forward, and I guessed that by wading Icould reach it. Also, I had some trinkets and one or two books I did notwish to lose," and she nodded at the hand-bag which she had thrown intothe boat.
Morris smiled. "It is very nice of you to pay so much respect toappearances," he said; "but I suppose you forgot that the vessel mightcome off the rocks at any moment and crush me, who was waiting."
"Oh, no," she answered; "I thought of it. I have always been accustomedto the sea, and know about such things."
"And still you went for your dress and your trinkets?"
"Yes, because I was certain that it wouldn't happen and that no harmwould come to either of us by waiting a few minutes."
"Indeed, and who told you that?"
"I don't know, but from the moment that I saw you in the boat I wascertain that the danger was done with--at least, the immediate danger,"she added.
Stella Fregelius: A Tale of Three Destinies Page 10