_THE MAN FROM ARCHANGEL._
On the fourth day of March, in the year 1867, I being at that time in myfive-and-twentieth year, I wrote the following words in my note-book,the result of much mental perturbation and conflict:--
"The solar system, amidst a countless number of other systems as largeas itself, rolls ever silently through space in the direction of theconstellation of Hercules. The great spheres of which it is composedspin and spin through the eternal void ceaselessly and noiselessly. Ofthese one of the smallest and most insignificant is that conglomerationof solid and of liquid particles which we have named the earth. Itwhirls onwards now as it has done before my birth, and will do after mydeath--a revolving mystery, coming none know whence, and going none knowwhither. Upon the outer crust of this moving mass crawl many mites, ofwhom I, John McVittie, am one, helpless, impotent, being draggedaimlessly through space. Yet such is the state of things amongst usthat the little energy and glimmering of reason which I possess isentirely taken up with the labours which are necessary in order toprocure certain metallic disks, wherewith I may purchase the chemicalelements necessary to build up my ever-wasting tissues, and keep a roofover me to shelter me from the inclemency of the weather. I thus have nothought to expend upon the vital questions which surround me on everyside. Yet, miserable entity as I am, I can still at times feel somedegree of happiness, and am even--save the mark!--puffed up occasionallywith a sense of my own importance."
These words, as I have said, I wrote down in my note-book, and theyreflected accurately the thoughts which I found rooted far down in mysoul, ever present and unaffected by the passing emotions of the hour.Every day for seven months I read over my words, and every day when I hadfinished them I said to myself, "Well done, John McVittie; you have saidthe thought which was in you. You have reduced things to their leastcommon measure!" At last came a time when my uncle, McVittie ofGlencairn, died--the same who was at one time chairman of committees ofthe House of Commons. He divided his great wealth among his many nephews,and I found myself with sufficient to provide amply for my wants duringthe remainder of my life, and became at the same time owner of a bleaktract of land upon the coast of Caithness, which I think the old man musthave bestowed upon me in derision, for it was sandy and valueless, and hehad ever a grim sense of humour. Up to this time I had been an attorneyin a midland town in England. Now I saw that I could put my thoughts intoeffect, and, leaving all petty and sordid aims, could elevate my mind bythe study of the secrets of nature. My departure from my English home wassomewhat accelerated by the fact that I had nearly slain a man in aquarrel, for my temper was fiery, and I was apt to forget my own strengthwhen enraged. There was no legal action taken in the matter, but thepapers yelped at me, and folk looked askance when I met them. It ended bymy cursing them and their vile, smoke-polluted town, and hurrying to mynorthern possession, where I might at last find peace and an opportunityfor solitary study and contemplation. I borrowed from my capital beforeI went, and so was able to take with me a choice collection of the mostmodern philosophical instruments and books, together with chemicals andsuch other things as I might need in my retirement.
The land which I had inherited was a narrow strip, consisting mostly ofsand, and extending for rather over two miles round the coast of MansieBay, in Caithness. Upon this strip there had been a rambling, grey-stonebuilding--when erected or wherefore none could tell me--and this I hadrepaired, so that it made a dwelling quite good enough for one of mysimple tastes. One room was my laboratory, another my sitting-room, andin a third, just under the sloping roof, I slung the hammock in which Ialways slept. There were three other rooms, but I left them vacant,except one which was given over to the old crone who kept house for me.Save the Youngs and the McLeods, who were fisher-folk living round atthe other side of Fergus Ness, there were no other people for many milesin each direction. In front of the house was the great bay, behind itwere two long barren hills, capped by other loftier ones beyond. Therewas a glen between the hills, and when the wind was from the land itused to sweep down this with a melancholy sough and whisper among thebranches of the fir trees beneath my attic window.
I dislike my fellow-mortals. Justice compels me to add that they appearfor the most part to dislike me. I hate their little crawling ways,their conventionalities, their deceits, their narrow rights and wrongs.They take offence at my brusque outspokenness, my disregard for theirsocial laws, my impatience of all constraint. Among my books and mydrugs in my lonely den at Mansie I could let the great drove of thehuman race pass onwards with their politics and inventions andtittle-tattle, and I remained behind stagnant and happy. Not stagnanteither, for I was working in my own little groove, and making progress.I have reason to believe that Dalton's atomic theory is founded uponerror, and I know that mercury is not an element.
During the day I was busy with my distillations and analyses. Often Iforgot my meals, and when old Madge summoned me to my tea I found mydinner lying untouched upon the table. At night I read Bacon, Descartes,Spinoza, Kant--all those who have pried into what is unknowable. Theyare all fruitless and empty, barren of result, but prodigal ofpolysyllables, reminding me of men who while digging for gold haveturned up many worms, and then exhibit them exultantly as being whatthey sought. At times a restless spirit would come upon me, and I wouldwalk thirty and forty miles without rest or breaking fast. On theseoccasions, when I used to stalk through the country villages, gaunt,unshaven, and dishevelled, the mothers would rush into the road and dragtheir children indoors, and the rustics would swarm out of theirpot-houses to gaze at me. I believe that I was known far and wide as the"mad laird o' Mansie." It was rarely, however, that I made these raidsinto the country, for I usually took my exercise upon my own beach,where I soothed my spirit with strong black tobacco, and made the oceanmy friend and my confidant.
What companion is there like the great restless, throbbing sea? Whathuman mood is there which it does not match and sympathise with? Thereare none so gay but that they may feel gayer when they listen to itsmerry turmoil, and see the long green surges racing in, with the glintof the sunbeams in their sparkling crests. But when the grey waves tosstheir heads in anger, and the wind screams above them, goading them onto madder and more tumultuous efforts, then the darkest-minded of menfeels that there is a melancholy principle in Nature which is as gloomyas his own thoughts. When it was calm in the Bay of Mansie the surfacewould be as clear and bright as a sheet of silver, broken only at onespot some little way from the shore, where a long black line projectedout of the water looking like the jagged back of some sleeping monster.This was the top of the dangerous ridge of rocks known to the fishermenas the "ragged reef o' Mansie." When the wind blew from the east thewaves would break upon it like thunder, and the spray would be tossedfar over my house and up to the hills behind. The bay itself was a boldand noble one, but too much exposed to the northern and eastern gales,and too much dreaded for its reef, to be much used by mariners. Therewas something of romance about this lonely spot. I have lain in my boatupon a calm day, and, peering over the edge, I have seen far down theflickering ghostly forms of great fish--fish, as it seemed to me, suchas naturalists never knew, and which my imagination transformed into thegenii of that desolate bay. Once, as I stood by the brink of the watersupon a quiet night, a great cry, as of a woman in hopeless grief, rosefrom the bosom of the deep, and swelled out upon the still air, nowsinking and now rising, for a space of thirty seconds. This I heard withmy own ears.
In this strange spot, with the eternal hills behind me and the eternalsea in front, I worked and brooded for more than two years unpestered bymy fellow-men. By degrees I had trained my old servant into habits ofsilence, so that she now rarely opened her lips, though I doubt not thatwhen twice a year she visited her relations in Wick, her tongue duringthose few days made up for its enforced rest. I had come almost toforget that I was a member of the human family, and to live entirelywith the dead whose books I pored over, when a sudden incident occurredwhich threw all my thought
s into a new channel.
Three rough days in June had been succeeded by one calm and peacefulone. There was not a breath of air that evening. The sun sank down inthe west behind a line of purple clouds, and the smooth surface of thebay was gashed with scarlet streaks. Along the beach the pools left bythe tide showed up like gouts of blood against the yellow sand, as ifsome wounded giant had toilfully passed that way, and had left these redtraces of his grievous hurt behind him. As the darkness closed in,certain ragged clouds which had lain low on the eastern horizoncoalesced and formed a great irregular cumulus. The glass was still low,and I knew that there was mischief brewing. About nine o'clock a dullmoaning sound came up from the sea, as from a creature who, muchharassed, learns that the hour of suffering has come round again. At tena sharp breeze sprang up from the eastward. At eleven it had increasedto a gale, and by midnight the most furious storm was raging which Iever remember upon that weather-beaten coast.
As I went to bed the shingle and sea-weed was pattering up against myattic-window, and the wind was screaming as though every gust were alost soul. By that time the sounds of the tempest had become a lullabyto me. I knew that the grey walls of the old house would buffet it out,and for what occurred in the world outside I had small concern. OldMadge was usually as callous to such things as I was myself. It was asurprise to me when, about three in the morning, I was awoke by thesound of a great knocking at my door and excited cries in the wheezyvoice of my housekeeper. I sprang out of my hammock, and roughlydemanded of her what was the matter.
"Eh, maister, maister!" she screamed in her hateful dialect. "Come doun,mun; come doun! There's a muckle ship gaun ashore on the reef, and thepuir folks are a' yammerin' and ca'in' for help--and I doobt they'll a'be drooned. Oh, Maister McVittie, come doun!"
"Hold your tongue, you hag!" I shouted back in a passion. "What is it toyou whether they are drowned or not? Get back to your bed and leave mealone." I turned in again, and drew the blankets over me. "Those men outthere," I said to myself, "have already gone through half the horrors ofdeath. If they be saved they will but have to go through the same oncemore in the space of a few brief years. It is best, therefore, that theyshould pass away now, since they have suffered that anticipation whichis more than the pain of dissolution." With this thought in my mind Iendeavoured to compose myself to sleep once more, for that philosophywhich had taught me to consider death as a small and trivial incident inman's eternal and ever-changing career, had also broken me of muchcuriosity concerning worldly matters. On this occasion I found, however,that the old leaven still fermented strongly in my soul. I tossed fromside to side for some minutes endeavouring to beat down the impulses ofthe moment by the rules of conduct which I had framed during months ofthought. Then I heard a dull roar amid the wild shriek of the gale, and Iknew that it was the sound of a signal-gun. Driven by an uncontrollableimpulse, I rose, dressed, and, having lit my pipe, walked out on to thebeach.
It was pitch dark when I came outside, and the wind blew with suchviolence that I had to put my shoulder against it and push my way alongthe shingle. My face pringled and smarted with the sting of the gravelwhich was blown against it, and the red ashes of my pipe streamed awaybehind me dancing fantastically through the darkness. I went down towhere the great waves were thundering in, and, shading my eyes with myhand to keep off the salt spray, I peered out to sea. I coulddistinguish nothing, and yet it seemed to me that shouts and greatinarticulate cries were borne to me by the blasts. Suddenly as I gazed Imade out the glint of a light, and then the whole bay and the beach werelit up in a moment by a vivid blue glare. They were burning a colouredsignal-light on board of the vessel. There she lay on her beam endsright in the centre of the jagged reef, hurled over to such an anglethat I could see all the planking of her deck. She was a large,two-masted schooner, of foreign rig, and lay perhaps a hundred andeighty or two hundred yards from the shore. Every spar and rope andwrithing piece of cordage showed up hard and clear under the livid lightwhich sputtered and flickered from the highest portion of theforecastle. Beyond the doomed ship out of the great darkness came thelong rolling lines of black waves, never ending, never tiring, with apetulant tuft of foam here and there upon their crests. Each as itreached the broad circle of unnatural light appeared to gather strengthand volume, and to hurry on more impetuously until, with a roar and ajarring crash, it sprang upon its victim. Clinging to the weathershrouds I could distinctly see some ten or twelve frightened seamen,who, when their light revealed my presence, turned their white facestowards me and waved their hands imploringly. I felt my gorge riseagainst these poor cowering worms. Why should they presume to shirk thenarrow pathway along which all that is great and noble among mankind hastravelled? There was one there who interested me more than they. He wasa tall man who stood apart from the others, balancing himself upon theswaying wreck as though he disdained to cling to rope or bulwark. Hishands were clasped behind his back, and his head was sunk upon hisbreast; but even in that despondent attitude there was a litheness anddecision in his pose and in every motion which marked him as a manlittle likely to yield to despair. Indeed, I could see by his occasionalrapid glances up and down and all around him that he was weighing everychance of safety; but though he often gazed across the raging surf towhere he could see my dark figure upon the beach, his self-respect, orsome other reason, forbade him from imploring my help in any way. Hestood, dark, silent, and inscrutable, looking down on the black sea, andwaiting for whatever fortune Fate might send him.
It seemed to me that that problem would very soon be settled. As Ilooked, an enormous billow, topping all the others, and coming afterthem, like a driver following a flock, swept over the vessel. Herforemast snapped short off, and the men who clung to the shrouds werebrushed away like a swarm of flies. With a rending, riving sound theship began to split in two, where the sharp back of the Mansie reef wassawing into her keel. The solitary man upon the forecastle ran rapidlyacross the deck and seized hold of a white bundle which I had alreadyobserved, but failed to make out. As he lifted it up the light fell uponit, and I saw that the object was a woman, with a spar lashed across herbody and under her arms in such a way that her head should always riseabove water. He bore her tenderly to the side and seemed to speak for aminute or so to her, as though explaining the impossibility of remainingupon the ship. Her answer was a singular one. I saw her deliberatelyraise her hand and strike him across the face with it. He appeared to besilenced for a moment or so by this; but he addressed her again,directing her, as far as I could gather from his motions, how she shouldbehave when in the water. She shrank away from him, but he caught her inhis arms. He stooped over her for a moment and seemed to press his lipsagainst her forehead. Then a great wave came welling up against the sideof the breaking vessel, and, leaning over, he placed her upon the summitof it as gently as a child might be committed to its cradle. I saw herwhite dress flickering among the foam on the crest of the dark billow,and then the light sank gradually lower, and the riven ship and itslonely occupant were hidden from my eyes.
As I watched those things my manhood overcame my philosophy, and I felta frantic impulse to be up and doing. I threw my cynicism to one side asa garment which I might don again at leisure, and I rushed wildly to myboat and my sculls. She was a leaky tub, but what then? Was I, who hadcast many a wistful, doubtful glance at my opium bottle, to begin now toweigh chances and to cavil at danger? I dragged her down to the seawith the strength of a maniac, and sprang in. For a moment or two it wasa question whether she could live among the boiling surge, but a dozenfrantic strokes took me through it, half-full of water but still afloat.I was out on the unbroken waves now, at one time climbing, climbing upthe broad black breast of one, then sinking down, down on the otherside, until looking up I could see the gleam of the foam all around meagainst the dark heavens. Far behind me I could hear the wild wailingsof old Madge, who, seeing me start, thought no doubt that my madness hadcome to a climax. As I rowed I peered over my shoulder, until at last onthe belly of a gre
at wave which was sweeping towards me I distinguishedthe vague white outline of the woman. Stooping over I seized her as sheswept by me, and with an effort lifted her, all sodden with water, intothe boat. There was no need to row back, for the next billow carried usin and threw us upon the beach. I dragged the boat out of danger, andthen lifting up the woman I carried her to the house, followed by myhousekeeper, loud with congratulation and praise.
Now that I had done this thing a reaction set in upon me. I felt that myburden lived, for I heard the faint beat of her heart as I pressed myear against her side in carrying her. Knowing this, I threw her downbeside the fire which Madge had lit, with as little sympathy as thoughshe had been a bundle of faggots. I never glanced at her to see if shewere fair or no. For many years I had cared little for the face of awoman. As I lay in my hammock upstairs, however, I heard the old woman,as she chafed the warmth back into her, crooning a chorus of "Eh, thepuir lassie! Eh, the bonnie lassie!" from which I gathered that thispiece of jetsam was both young and comely.
* * * * *
The morning after the gale was peaceful and sunny. As I walked along thelong sweep of sand I could hear the panting of the sea. It was heavingand swirling about the reef, but along the shore it rippled in gentlyenough. There was no sign of the schooner, nor was there any wreckageupon the beach, which did not surprise me, as I knew there was a greatundertow in those waters. A couple of broad-winged gulls were hoveringand skimming over the scene of the shipwreck, as though many strangethings were visible to them beneath the waves. At times I could heartheir raucous voices as they spoke to one another of what they saw.
When I came back from my walk the woman was waiting at the door for me.I began to wish when I saw her that I had never saved her, for here wasan end of my privacy. She was very young--at the most nineteen, with apale, somewhat refined face, yellow hair, merry blue eyes, and shiningteeth. Her beauty was of an ethereal type. She looked so white and lightand fragile that she might have been the spirit of that storm-foam fromout of which I plucked her. She had wreathed some of Madge's garmentsround her in a way which was quaint and not unbecoming. As I strodeheavily up the pathway she put out her hands with a pretty childlikegesture, and ran down towards me, meaning, as I surmise, to thank me forhaving saved her, but I put her aside with a wave of my hand and passedher. At this she seemed somewhat hurt, and the tears sprang into hereyes; but she followed me into the sitting-room and watched mewistfully. "What country do you come from?" I asked her suddenly.
She smiled when I spoke, but shook her head.
"Francais?" I asked. "Deutsch?" "Espagnol?"--each time she shook herhead, and then she rippled off into a long statement in some tongue ofwhich I could not understand one word.
After breakfast was over, however, I got a clue to her nationality.Passing along the beach once more, I saw that in a cleft of the ridge apiece of wood had been jammed. I rowed out to it in my boat and broughtit ashore. It was part of the sternpost of a boat, and on it, or ratheron the piece of wood attached to it, was the word "Archangel," paintedin strange, quaint lettering. "So," I thought, as I paddled slowly back,"this pale damsel is a Russian. A fit subject for the White Czar, and aproper dweller on the shores of the White Sea!" It seemed to me strangethat one of her apparent refinement should perform so long a journey inso frail a craft. When I came back into the house I pronounced the word"Archangel" several times in different intonations, but she did notappear to recognise it.
I shut myself up in the laboratory all the morning, continuing aresearch which I was making upon the nature of the allotropic forms ofcarbon and of sulphur. When I came out at mid-day for some food, she wassitting by the table with a needle and thread mending some rents in herclothes, which were now dry. I resented her continued presence, but Icould not turn her out on the beach to shift for herself. Presently shepresented a new phase of her character. Pointing to herself and then tothe scene of the shipwreck, she held up one finger, by which Iunderstood her to be asking whether she was the only one saved. I noddedmy head to indicate that she was. On this she sprang out of the chair,with a cry of great joy, and holding the garment which she was mendingover her head, and swaying it from side to side with the motion of herbody, she danced as lightly as a feather all round the room, and thenout through the open door into the sunshine. As she whirled round shesang in a plaintive, shrill voice some uncouth, barbarous chant,expressive of exultation. I called out to her, "Come in, you youngfiend; come in, and be silent!" but she went on with her dance. Then shesuddenly ran towards me, and catching my hand before I could pluck itaway, she kissed it. While we were at dinner she spied one of mypencils, and taking it up she wrote the two words "Sophie Ramusine" upona piece of paper, and then pointed to herself as a sign that that washer name. She handed the pencil to me, evidently expecting that I wouldbe equally communicative, but I put it in my pocket as a sign that Iwished to hold no intercourse with her.
Every moment of my life now I regretted the unguarded precipitancy withwhich I had saved this woman. What was it to me whether she had lived ordied? I was no young hot-headed youth to do such things. It was badenough to be compelled to have Madge in the house, but she was old andugly, and could be ignored. This one was young and lively, and sofashioned as to divert attention from graver things. Where could I sendher, and what could I do with her? If I sent information to Wick itwould mean that officials and others would come to me, and pry, andpeep, and chatter--a hateful thought. It was better to endure herpresence than that.
I soon found that there were fresh troubles in store for me. There is noplace safe from the swarming, restless race of which I am a member. Inthe evening, when the sun was dipping down behind the hills, castingthem into dark shadow, but gilding the sands and casting a great gloryover the sea, I went, as is my custom, for a stroll along the beach.Sometimes on these occasions I took my book with me. I did so on thisnight, and stretching myself upon a sand-dune I composed myself to read.As I lay there I suddenly became aware of a shadow which interposeditself between the sun and myself. Looking round, I saw, to my greatsurprise, a very tall, powerful man, who was standing a few yards off,and who, instead of looking at me, was ignoring my existence completely,and was gazing over my head with a stern set face at the bay and theblack line of the Mansie reef. His complexion was dark, with black hairand short curling beard, a hawk-like nose, and golden earrings in hisears--the general effect being wild and somewhat noble. He wore a fadedvelveteen jacket, a red flannel shirt, and high sea-boots, cominghalf-way up his thighs. I recognised him at a glance as being the sameman who had been left on the wreck the night before.
"Hullo!" I said, in an aggrieved voice. "You got ashore all right,then?"
"Yes," he answered, in good English. "It was no doing of mine. The wavesthrew me up. I wish to God I had been allowed to drown!" There was aslight foreign lisp in his accent which was rather pleasing. "Two goodfishermen, who live round yonder point, pulled me out and cared forme--yet I could not honestly thank them for it."
"Ho! ho!" thought I, "here is a man of my own kidney. Why do you wish tobe drowned?" I asked.
"Because," he cried, throwing out his long arms with a passionate,despairing gesture, "there--there in that blue smiling bay lies my soul,my treasure--everything that I loved and lived for."
"Well, well," I said. "People are ruined every day, but there's no usemaking a fuss about it. Let me inform you that this ground on which youwalk is my ground, and that the sooner you take yourself off it thebetter pleased I shall be. One of you is quite trouble enough."
"One of us?" he gasped.
"Yes--if you could take her off with you I should be still moregrateful."
He gazed at me for a moment as if hardly able to realise what I said,and then, with a wild cry, he ran away from me with prodigious speedand raced along the sands towards my house. Never before or since have Iseen a human being run so fast. I followed as rapidly as I could,furious at this threatened invasion, but long before I reached t
he househe had disappeared through the open door. I heard a great scream fromthe inside, and, as I came nearer, the sound of the man's bass voicespeaking rapidly and loudly. When I looked in, the girl Sophie Ramusinewas crouching in a corner, cowering away, with fear and loathingexpressed on her averted face and in every line of her shrinking form.The other, with his dark eyes flashing, and his outstretched handsquivering with emotion, was pouring forth a torrent of passionate,pleading words. He made a step forward to her as I entered, but shewrithed still further away, and uttered a sharp cry like that of arabbit when the weazel has him by the throat.
"Here!" I said, pulling him back from her. "This is a pretty to-do! Whatdo you mean? Do you think this is a wayside inn or place of publicaccommodation?"
"Oh, sir," he said, "excuse me. This woman is my wife, and I fearedthat she was drowned. You have brought me back to life."
"Who are you?" I asked roughly.
"I am a man from Archangel," he said simply: "a Russian man."
"What is your name?"
"Ourganeff."
"Ourganeff!--and hers is Sophie Ramusine. She is no wife of yours. Shehas no ring."
"We are man and wife in the sight of Heaven," he said solemnly, lookingupwards. "We are bound by higher laws than those of earth." As he spokethe girl slipped behind me and caught me by the other hand, pressing itas though beseeching my protection. "Give me up my wife, sir," he wenton. "Let me take her away from here."
"Look here, you--whatever your name is," I said sternly, "I don't wantthis wench here. I wish I had never seen her. If she died it would be nogrief to me. But as to handing her over to you, when it is clear shefears and hates you, I won't do it. So now just clear your great bodyout of this, and leave me to my books. I hope I may never look upon yourface again."
"You won't give her up to me?" he said hoarsely.
"I'll see you damned first!" I answered.
"Suppose I take her," he cried, his dark face growing darker.
All my tigerish blood flushed up in a moment. I picked up a billet ofwood from beside the fireplace. "Go," I said, in a low voice; "go quick,or I may do you an injury." He looked at me irresolutely for a moment,and then he left the house. He came back again in a moment, however, andstood in the doorway looking in at us.
"Have a heed what you do," he said. "The woman is mine, and I shall haveher. When it comes to blows, a Russian is as good a man as a Scotchman."
"We shall see that," I cried, springing forward, but he was alreadygone, and I could see his tall form moving away through the gatheringdarkness.
For a month or more after this things went smoothly with us. I neverspoke to the Russian girl, nor did she ever address me. Sometimes when Iwas at work at my laboratory she would slip inside the door and sitsilently there watching me with her great eyes. At first this intrusionannoyed me, but by degrees, finding that she made no attempt to distractmy attention, I suffered her to remain. Encouraged by this concession,she gradually came to move the stool on which she sat nearer and nearerto my table, until, after gaining a little every day during some weeks,she at last worked her way right up to me, and used to perch herselfbeside me whenever I worked. In this position she used, still withoutever obtruding her presence in any way, to make herself very useful byholding my pens, test-tubes, bottles, etc., and handing me whatever Iwanted, with never-failing sagacity. By ignoring the fact of her being ahuman being, and looking upon her as a useful automatic machine, Iaccustomed myself to her presence so far as to miss her on the fewoccasions when she was not at her post. I have a habit of talking aloudto myself at times when I work, so as to fix my results better in mymind. The girl must have had a surprising memory for sounds, for shecould always repeat the words which I let fall in this way, without, ofcourse, understanding in the least what they meant. I have often beenamused at hearing her discharge a volley of chemical equations andalgebraic symbols at old Madge, and then burst into a ringing laugh whenthe crone would shake her head, under the impression, no doubt, that shewas being addressed in Russian.
She never went more than a few yards from the house, and indeed neverput her foot over the threshold without looking carefully out of eachwindow, in order to be sure that there was nobody about. By this I knewthat she suspected that her fellow-countryman was still in theneighbourhood, and feared that he might attempt to carry her off. Shedid something else which was significant. I had an old revolver withsome cartridges, which had been thrown away among the rubbish. She foundthis one day, and at once proceeded to clean it and oil it. She hung itup near the door, with the cartridges in a little bag beside it, andwhenever I went for a walk she would take it down and insist upon mycarrying it with me. In my absence she would always bolt the door. Apartfrom her apprehensions she seemed fairly happy, busying herself inhelping Madge when she was not attending upon me. She was wonderfullynimble-fingered and natty in all domestic duties.
It was not long before I discovered that her suspicions were wellfounded, and that this man from Archangel was still lurking in thevicinity. Being restless one night, I rose and peered out of the window.The weather was somewhat cloudy, and I could barely make out the line ofthe sea and the loom of my boat upon the beach. As I gazed, however, andmy eyes became accustomed to the obscurity, I became aware that therewas some other dark blur upon the sands, and that in front of my verydoor, where certainly there had been nothing of the sort the precedingnight. As I stood at my diamond-paned lattice still peering and peepingto make out what this might be, a great bank of clouds rolled slowlyaway from the face of the moon, and a flood of cold, clear light waspoured down upon the silent bay and the long sweep of its desolateshores. Then I saw what this was which haunted my doorstep. It was he,the Russian. He squatted there like a gigantic toad, with his legsdoubled under him in strange Mongolian fashion, and his eyes fixedapparently upon the window of the room in which the young girl and thehousekeeper slept. The light fell upon his upturned face, and I saw oncemore the hawk-like grace of his countenance, with the singledeeply-indented line of care upon his brow, and the protruding beardwhich marks the passionate nature. My first impulse was to shoot him asa trespasser, but as I gazed my resentment changed into pity andcontempt. "Poor fool," I said to myself, "is it then possible that you,whom I have seen looking open-eyed at present death, should have yourwhole thoughts and ambition centred upon this wretched slip of a girl--agirl, too, who flies from you and hates you! Most women would loveyou--were it but for that dark face and great handsome body ofyours--and yet you must needs hanker after the one in a thousand whowill have no traffic with you." As I returned to my bed I chuckled muchto myself over this thought. I knew that my bars were strong and mybolts thick. It mattered little to me whether this strange man spent hisnight at my door or a hundred leagues off, so long as he was gone by themorning. As I expected, when I rose and went out there was no sign ofhim, nor had he left any trace of his midnight vigil.
It was not long, however, before I saw him again. I had been out for arow one morning, for my head was aching, partly from prolonged stoopingand partly from the effects of a noxious drug which I had inhaled thenight before. I pulled along the coast some miles, and then, feelingthirsty, I landed at a place where I knew that a fresh water streamtrickled down into the sea. This rivulet passed through my land, but themouth of it, where I found myself that day, was beyond my boundary line.I felt somewhat taken aback when, rising from the stream at which I hadslaked my thirst, I found myself face to face with the Russian. I was asmuch a trespasser now as he was, and I could see at a glance that heknew it.
"I wish to speak a few words to you," he said gravely.
"Hurry up, then!" I answered, glancing at my watch. "I have no time tolisten to chatter."
"Chatter!" he repeated angrily. "Ah, but there! You Scotch people arestrange men. Your face is hard and your words rough, but so are those ofthe good fishermen with whom I stay, yet I find that beneath it allthere lies kind, honest natures. No doubt you are kind and good too, inspite of your roughness."
"In the name of the devil," I said, "say your say, and go your way. I amweary of the sight of you."
"Can I not soften you in any way?" he cried. "Ah, see--see here"--heproduced a small Grecian cross from inside his velvet jacket. "Look atthis. Our religions may differ in form, but at least we have some commonthoughts and feelings when we see this emblem."
"I am not so sure of that," I answered.
He looked at me thoughtfully.
"You are a very strange man," he said at last. "I cannot understand you.You still stand between me and Sophie. It is a dangerous position totake, sir. Oh, believe me, before it is too late. If you did but knowwhat I have done to gain that woman--how I have risked my body, how Ihave lost my soul. You are a small obstacle to some which I havesurmounted--you, whom a rip with a knife, or a blow from a stone, wouldput out of my way for ever. But God preserve me from that," he criedwildly. "I am deep--too deep--already. Anything rather than that."
"You would do better to go back to your country," I said, "than toskulk about these sand-hills and disturb my leisure. When I have proofthat you have gone away, I shall hand this woman over to the protectionof the Russian Consul at Edinburgh. Until then, I shall guard hermyself, and not you, nor any Muscovite that ever breathed, shall takeher from me."
"And what is your object in keeping me from Sophie?" he asked. "Do youimagine that I would injure her? Why, man, I would give my life freelyto save her from the slightest harm. Why do you do this thing?"
"I do it because it is my good pleasure to act so," I answered. "I giveno man reasons for my conduct."
"Look here!" he cried, suddenly blazing into fury, and advancing towardsme with his shaggy mane bristling and his brown hands clenched. "If Ithought you had one dishonest thought towards this girl--if for a momentI had reason to believe that you had any base motive for detainingher--as sure as there is a God in Heaven I should drag the heart out ofyour bosom with my hands." The very idea seemed to have put the man in afrenzy, for his face was all distorted and his hands opened and shutconvulsively. I thought that he was about to spring at my throat.
"Stand off!" I said, putting my hand on my pistol. "If you lay a fingeron me I shall kill you."
He put his hand into his pocket, and for a moment I thought that he wasabout to produce a weapon too, but instead of that he whipped out acigarette and lit it, breathing the smoke rapidly into his lungs. Nodoubt he had found by experience that this was the most effectual way ofcurbing his passions.
"I told you," he said in a quieter voice, "that my name isOurganeff--Alexis Ourganeff. I am a Finn by birth, but I have spent mylife in every part of the world. I was one who could never be still, norsettle down to a quiet existence. After I came to own my own ship thereis hardly a port from Archangel to Australia which I have not entered. Iwas rough and wild and free, but there was one at home, sir, who wasprim and white-handed and soft-tongued, skilful in little fancies andconceits which women love. This youth by his wiles and tricks stole fromme the love of the girl whom I had ever marked as my own, and who up tothat time had seemed in some sort inclined to return my passion. I hadbeen on a voyage to Hammerfest for ivory, and coming back unexpectedly,I learned that my pride and treasure was to be married to thissoft-skinned boy, and that the party had actually gone to the church. Insuch moments, sir, something gives way in my head, and I hardly knowwhat I do. I landed with a boat's crew--all men who had sailed with mefor years, and who were as true as steel. We went up to the church. Theywere standing, she and he, before the priest, but the thing had not beendone. I dashed between them and caught her round the waist. My men beatback the frightened bridegroom and the lookers-on. We bore her down tothe boat and aboard our vessel, and then getting up anchor, we sailedaway across the White Sea until the spires of Archangel sank down behindthe horizon. She had my cabin, my room, every comfort. I slept among themen in the forecastle. I hoped that in time her aversion to me wouldwear away, and that she would consent to marry me in England or inFrance. For days and days we sailed. We saw the North Cape die awaybehind us, and we skirted the grey Norwegian coast, but still, in spiteof every attention, she would not forgive me for tearing her from thatpale-faced lover of hers. Then came this cursed storm which shatteredboth my ship and my hopes, and has deprived me even of the sight of thewoman for whom I have risked so much. Perhaps she may learn to love meyet. You, sir," he said wistfully, "look like one who has seen much ofthe world. Do you not think that she may come to forget this man and tolove me?" "I am tired of your story," I said, turning away. "For mypart, I think you are a great fool. If you imagine that this love ofyours will pass away, you had best amuse yourself as best you can untilit does. If, on the other hand, it is a fixed thing, you cannot dobetter than cut your throat, for that is the shortest way out of it. Ihave no more time to waste on the matter." With this I hurried away andwalked down to the boat. I never looked round, but I heard the dullsound of his feet upon the sands as he followed me.
"I have told you the beginning of my story," he said, "and you shallknow the end some day. You would do well to let the girl go."
I never answered him, but pushed the boat off. When I had rowed somedistance out I looked back and saw his tall figure upon the yellow sandas he stood gazing thoughtfully after me. When I looked again, someminutes later, he had disappeared.
For a long time after this my life was as regular and as monotonous asit had been before the shipwreck. At times I hoped that the man fromArchangel had gone away altogether, but certain footsteps which I sawupon the sand, and more particularly a little pile of cigarette ashwhich I found one day behind a hillock from which a view of the housemight be obtained, warned me that, though invisible, he was still in thevicinity. My relations with the Russian girl remained the same asbefore. Old Madge had been somewhat jealous of her presence at first,and seemed to fear that what little authority she had would be takenaway from her. By degrees, however, as she came to realise my utterindifference, she became reconciled to the situation, and, as I havesaid before, profited by it, as our visitor performed much of thedomestic work.
And now I am coming near the end of this narrative of mine, which I havewritten a great deal more for my own amusement than for that of any oneelse. The termination of the strange episode in which these two Russianshad played a part was as wild and as sudden as the commencement. Theevents of one single night freed me from all my troubles, and left meonce more alone with my books and my studies, as I had been before theirintrusion. Let me endeavour to describe how this came about.
I had had a long day of heavy and wearying work, so that in the eveningI determined upon taking a long walk. When I emerged from the house myattention was attracted by the appearance of the sea. It lay like asheet of glass, so that never a ripple disturbed its surface. Yet theair was filled with that indescribable moaning sound which I havealluded to before--a sound as though the spirits of all those who laybeneath those treacherous waters were sending a sad warning of comingtroubles to their brethren in the flesh. The fishermen's wives alongthat coast know the eerie sound, and look anxiously across the watersfor the brown sails making for the land. When I heard it I stepped backinto the house and looked at the glass. It was down below 29[deg]. Then Iknew that a wild night was coming upon us.
Underneath the hills where I walked that evening it was dull and chill,but their summits were rosy-red and the sea was brightened by thesinking sun. There were no clouds of importance in the sky, yet the dullgroaning of the sea grew louder and stronger. I saw, far to theeastward, a brig beating up for Wick, with a reef in her topsails. Itwas evident that her captain had read the signs of nature as I had done.Behind her a long, lurid haze lay low upon the water, concealing thehorizon. "I had better push on," I thought to myself, "or the wind mayrise before I get back."
I suppose I must have been at least half a mile from the house when Isuddenly stopped and listened breathlessly. My ears were so accustomedto the noises of nature, the sighing of the breeze and the sob of thewaves, that an
y other sound made itself heard at a great distance. Iwaited, listening with all my ears. Yes, there it was again--along-drawn, shrill cry of despair, ringing over the sands and echoedback from the hills behind me--a piteous appeal for aid. It came fromthe direction of my house. I turned and ran back homewards at the topof my speed, ploughing through the sand, racing over the shingle. In mymind there was a great dim perception of what had occurred.
About a quarter of a mile from the house there is a high sandhill, fromwhich the whole country round is visible. When I reached the top of thisI paused for a moment. There was the old grey building--there the boat.Everything seemed to be as I had left it. Even as I gazed, however, theshrill scream was repeated, louder than before, and the next moment atall figure emerged from my door--the figure of the Russian sailor. Overhis shoulder was the white form of the young girl, and even in his hastehe seemed to bear her tenderly and with gentle reverence. I could hearher wild cries and see her desperate struggles to break away from him.Behind the couple came my old housekeeper, staunch and true, as the ageddog, who can no longer bite, still snarls with toothless gums at theintruder. She staggered feebly along at the heels of the ravisher,waving her long, thin arms, and hurling, no doubt, volleys of Scotchcurses and imprecations at his head. I saw at a glance that he wasmaking for the boat. A sudden hope sprang up in my soul that I might bein time to intercept him. I ran for the beach at the top of my speed. AsI ran I slipped a cartridge into my revolver. This I determined shouldbe the last of these invasions.
I was too late. By the time I reached the water's edge he was a hundredyards away, making the boat spring with every stroke of his powerfularms. I uttered a wild cry of impotent anger, and stamped up and downthe sands like a maniac. He turned and saw me. Rising from his seat hemade me a graceful bow, and waved his hand to me. It was not atriumphant or a derisive gesture. Even my furious and distempered mindrecognised it as being a solemn and courteous leave-taking. Then hesettled down to his oars once more, and the little skiff shot away outover the bay. The sun had gone down now, leaving a single dull, redstreak upon the water, which stretched away until it blended with thepurple haze on the horizon. Gradually the skiff grew smaller and smalleras it sped across this lurid band, until the shades of night gatheredround it and it became a mere blur upon the lonely sea. Then this vagueloom died away also, and darkness settled over it--a darkness whichshould never more be raised.
And why did I pace the solitary shore, hot and wrathful as a wolf whosewhelp has been torn from it? Was it that I loved this Muscovite girl?No--a thousand times no. I am not one who, for the sake of a white skinor a blue eye, would belie my own life, and change the whole tenor of mythoughts and existence. My heart was untouched. But my pride--ah, thereI had been cruelly wounded. To think that I had been unable to affordprotection to the helpless one who craved it of me, and who relied onme! It was that which made my heart sick and sent the blood buzzingthrough my ears.
That night a great wind rose up from the sea, and the wild wavesshrieked upon the shore as though they would tear it back with them intothe ocean. The turmoil and the uproar were congenial to my vexed spirit.All night I wandered up and down, wet with spray and rain, watching thegleam of the white breakers, and listening to the outcry of the storm.My heart was bitter against the Russian. I joined my feeble pipe to thescreaming of the gale. "If he would but come back again!" I cried, withclenched hands; "if he would but come back!"
He came back. When the grey light of morning spread over the eastern skyand lit up the great waste of yellow, tossing waters, with the brownclouds drifting swiftly over them, then I saw him once again. A fewhundred yards off along the sand there lay a long dark object, cast upby the fury of the waves. It was my boat, much shattered and splintered.A little farther on, a vague, shapeless something was washing to and froin the shallow water, all mixed with shingle and with sea-weed. I saw ata glance that it was the Russian, face downwards and dead. I rushed intothe water and dragged him up on to the beach. It was only when I turnedhim over that I discovered that she was beneath him, his dead armsencircling her, his mangled body still intervening between her and thefury of the storm. It seemed that the fierce German Sea might beat thelife from him, but with all its strength it was unable to tear thisone-idea'd man from the woman whom he loved. There were signs which ledme to believe that during that awful night the woman's fickle mind hadcome at last to learn the worth of the true heart and strong arm whichstruggled for her and guarded her so tenderly. Why else should herlittle head be nestling so lovingly on his broad breast, while heryellow hair entwined itself with his flowing beard? Why, too, shouldthere be that bright smile of ineffable happiness and triumph, whichdeath itself had not had power to banish from his dusky face? I fancythat death had been brighter to him than life had ever been.
Madge and I buried them there on the shores of the desolate northernsea. They lie in one grave deep down beneath the yellow sand. Strangethings may happen in the world around them. Empires may rise and mayfall, dynasties may perish, great wars may come and go, but, heedless ofit all, those two shall embrace each other for ever and aye in theirlonely shrine by the side of the sounding ocean. I sometimes havethought that their spirits flit like shadowy sea-mews over the wildwaters of the bay. No cross or symbol marks their resting-place, but oldMadge puts wild flowers upon it at times; and when I pass on my dailywalk, and see the fresh blossoms scattered over the sand, I think of thestrange couple who came from afar and broke for a little space the dulltenor of my sombre life.
The Gully of Bluemansdyke, and Other stories Page 5