The George Barr McCutcheon Megapack: 25 Classic Novels and Stories

by George Barr McCutcheon

  Hugh did not answer. He arose and silently grasped the hand of the other, who also had conic to his feet.

  “I would to God that I could call you brother,” said he.

  “Don’t say it! It is too wild an improbability,” cried Veath.

  “Yes; it is more than that: it is an impossibility.”

  “If in the end I should conclude to tell Miss Ridge of my feelings, will you tell me now that I may do so with your permission?”

  “But there is no hope,” cried Hugh miserably.

  “I do not ask for hope. I shall not ask her to love me or to be my wife. I may want to tell her that I love her, that’s all. You can have no objection to that, Hugh.”

  “I have no objection,” murmured Ridgeway, a chill striking deep into his heart.

  CHAPTER XIV

  ONE LOVE AGAINST ANOTHER

  Ridgeway passed another sleepless night. Had not Veath said he could win her love, even though it were pledged to another? The thought gave birth to a fear that he was not perfectly sure of her love, and that it might turn to Henry Veath, after all. In the early morning hours, between snatches of sleep, he decided to ask Lady Huntingford’s advice, after explaining to her the dilemma in full. He would also tell Grace of Veath’s declaration, putting her on guard. Breakfast time found the sea heavy and the ship rolling considerably, but at least three people gave slight notice to the weather. Hugh was sober and morose; Veath was preoccupied and unnatural; Grace was restless and uneasy. Lady Huntingford, who came in while they were eating, observed this condition almost immediately, and smiled knowingly, yet sadly. Later Hugh Ridgeway drew her to a secluded corner and exploded his bomb. Her cool little head readily devised a plan which met his approval, and he hurried off to warn Grace before it was too late. Lady Huntingford advised him to tell Veath nothing of the elopement, allowing him to believe as he had all along, but suggested a radical change in their future plans. It was her advice that they go on to Japan and be married.

  At first Grace demurred to this plan, which he necessarily proposed as his own, holding that it would be absolutely cruel to desert Veath at the last minute. Finally she agreed to the compromise and kissed him with tears in her eyes.

  Days passed and the strain grew more tense than ever. The Tempest Queen was nearing the Archipelago, after the stops at Penang and Singapore. At Hong Kong the Manila-bound passengers were to be transferred to one of the small China Sea steamers. The weather had been rough and ugly for many days. Lady Huntingford had not left her stateroom in two days. Grace was with her a greater portion of the time, ministering to her wants gently and untiringly. Ridgeway and Veath, anxious and troubled, wandered aimlessly about the ship, smoking cigar after cigar, praying for a cessation of the ugly weather. Finally, all passengers were peremptorily forbidden the deck. The skilled sailors were in constant danger of being washed overboard. Captain Shadburn admitted that they were being driven from their course by the fury of the typhoon. Secretly he feared that the Queen might rush upon a reef at night.

  Dinner on the second violent evening was a sombre affair. Lady Huntingford, pale, sweet and wan, made her appearance with Grace, occupying Veath’s seat, that gentleman moving to the next chair, its original occupant being confined to his berth. Lord Huntingford, austere and imperturbable, entered some time before his wife and purposely ignored her when she came in.

  As the party arose from the table, a heavy lurch of the boat threw Grace headlong into Veath’s arms. By a superhuman effort he managed to keep his feet. He smiled down at her; but there was something so insistent in the smile that it troubled her.

  “It’s an ill wind that blows no good,” said Veath softly.

  “What blows well for one may blow ill for another,” she responded a little coldly, though she did not refuse the proffered arm; and they staggered toward the doorway.

  As they passed into the main saloon he suddenly asked her if she would let him speak to her of a matter that long had been on his mind. She did not look him in the face, but she knew it was white and determined. The time had come when he was to tell her that he loved her. He begged for a moment’s time and gained her unspoken permission. They sank to a couch near the stairway, Grace giving a last helpless, hopeless glance at Hugh as he and his companion passed from the apartment.

  “I can see by the manner in which you act that you know what I want to say to you. It is also plain to me that you would rather not hear me,” he said, after a moment.

  “Please do not say it,” she entreated, and he saw the little hope that he had been nourishing dashed away.

  “I did not dream until a few moments ago that you had discerned my love for you, Miss Ridge, but I am not sorry that I have been so transparent. How you have guessed my secret I cannot imagine. I tried to keep it from you,” he said, as if he had wounded her. “Perhaps your brother told you.”

  She was on the point of telling him that Hugh was not her brother, but something checked the impulse and she could only answer by shaking her head.

  “You told me that you expect to marry another man, but that has not kept me from telling you that I love you, nor will it prevent me from trying to win your love. Pride, if nothing else, has kept my lips sealed, for what right have I to ask any woman to share my lot? In sheer humiliation I must tell you that my life looks like a failure to me. I have a hard struggle ahead of me. You may say that I am young and strong, but I cannot, for my soul, see anything bright ahead.” His voice trembled and she glanced up at his face. He was looking at the diamond that sparkled on her left hand.

  “You have no right to say that life is a failure; you have no right to lie down on your arms and give, up the fight. That is the act of a coward. After all, it is not the way to win a woman’s love.”

  “You don’t mean—is it possible that you could—” he began.

  “No, no! You must not hope. I love another as dearly as you love me. But I will not have you say that you cannot succeed in life. I know you are strong, and I know you are determined. There is nothing impossible to you,” she said hurriedly, seeking feverishly to draw him from his purpose. “When first we met you were cheerful and hopeful, strong and full of life. Then some one came into your life and you saw a black cloud of despair arise. It came up easily and you can drive it away just as easily. It is not of your nature to give up, I know. You can win fame and fortune and the love of some one much worthier than I.”

  “If I live to be a thousand I shall love none as I love you,” he said simply. “If you loved me I could win against all the world. Your wealth is a natural barrier between poor love and rich pride, both true possessions of mine. But for the latter the former would win. Can you understand?” he asked almost vehemently.

  “I—I—no, I do not understand you,” she said panic-stricken. His eyes were flashing again in the same old way and his voice, low pitched, had a gallant ring.

  “I mean I’d win your love and I’d make you my wife.”

  “Mr. Veath! How can you—how dare you—” she began, arising indignantly, yet a trifle carried away by his impetuous manner. Her heart was thumping tumultuously and she dared not look into his eyes.

  “Dare!” he cried. “You urge me to fight it out and die in the trenches, as it were, and now you ask me why I dare tell you what I’d do under certain conditions. I merely tell you what I could and would do if I could change the conditions.”

  “You are a trifle over-confident, Mr. Veath,” she said coldly. “Good-night.”

  “Don’t be angry, please,” he cried in humility. “You have spoken to me in a way that has awakened a new spirit—the spirit that men call ‘do or die.’ Tonight the storm rages and we are all in danger. I feel that in an hour like this and in a place like this I am worth more than I have ever been or could be in any other position. The fierceness of the night and the sting of your advice combine to give life and nerve to my weak heart. I am not the man who begged you a moment ago to listen to the weakness of a despairing lover; it is anot
her man, another Henry Veath who talks to you now. From this instant I shall begin the battle against old conditions and you shall be the spoils of battle. Grace, look at me! I am going to show you what real determination means. I want you and I’ll win you.” His tall figure straightened, his blue eyes gleamed and flashed with the fire of enthusiasm. The timid, fearful Veath was gone, and in his stead stood the valiant, aggressive, inspired contestant.

  The rolling of the ship sent her staggering toward him, and he caught her by the arms. Steadying himself against the staircase, he cried in her bewildered ear:

  “I love you better than all else in the world. You are a part of my life, all of my joy. Do you think I can give you up now that I have found the courage to begin the struggle? I’ll win my way and I’ll win your love. Nothing but death can stop me now. Come! Don’t look as though you hate me for it.”

  “I do not hate you,” she said humbly, almost glaring into his bright eyes, unable to turn from the love which governed them so completely. “But you must not talk like this. I cannot listen to you. Mr. Veath, there is no possible hope.”

  “The hope to win and the will to win are two different propositions, and it is the latter under which I am enlisted. To me it is worth fighting for to the end of time.”

  “Oh, you must not say these things to me,” she cried fiercely, trying to escape from his eyes.

  “I shall not say another word to you after tonight until I am sure I have won the victory. Then I shall ask you to be my wife. Tomorrow I’ll tell your brother I am bound to win. He must know my honest intentions.”

  “My brother!” she gasped. Her knees grew weak and a faintness assailed her heart, almost to overpowering. “You—you must not—shall not say a word to Hugh. I forbid you—I—”

  “Why are you so agitated? Why am I not to speak to him? He is fair-minded, and I know he likes me.”

  “You don’t know what it would mean to me. There is something you do not know. No, no! You shall not speak to Hugh.” It was her turn to command, and he wavered.

  “Your will is the law which I obey. He shall not know—not now, at least,” he said. “There are to be but two factions in the struggle, then, your love against mine.”

  “You forget the—the other man,” she said, sudden tears springing to her eyes.

  “I think only of one woman,” he said softly, lovingly.

  She leaned wearily against the staircase, her hands clasping the railing. There was a piteous, hopeless entreaty in the dimming eyes as she turned them to his and tried to speak calmly.

  “I have something to say to you—tomorrow. Let us say good-night.”

  “Nothing you can say will alter my love. When the storm tonight is at its worst remember that I will give my life for your sake.”

  She did not answer, but her hand clasped his arm impulsively. In the doorway they met Hamilton and Gregory, just from the captain, their faces white and fear-stricken. Hugh and Lady Huntingford were hurrying toward them.

  CHAPTER XV

  THE WRECK OF THE “TEMPEST QUEEN”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Veath, alarmed by the agitation of the two soldiers.

  “Captain Shadburn estimates that we are two hundred miles out of our course, away to the south. It’s impossible to get our bearings without the sun, and the Lord only knows where we’re running to,” said Hamilton, holding to the door casing.

  Hugh and Lady Huntingford had joined the others by this time and were listening with blanched faces to the men in uniform.

  “It’s as black as ink outside,” said little Lieutenant Gregory, shivering in a manner most unbecoming in a soldier. “As long as they can keep the boat out of the trough we’ll ride the waves safely, but the deuced danger lies in the reefs and little islands. We may be dashing into one of them at this minute.”

  “You’re a cheerful hero,” cried Hugh indignantly. “What’s the use of imagining a thing like that? It’s time enough to think about it when we strike the reef; and, besides, it can’t help us any to cry. We can’t leave the ship for a walk back to dry land. We’re here to see the thing to the end, no matter where it is, and I don’t believe in howling before we’re hurt.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Veath. “Possibly we’re out of the course. That happens in every storm that comes up at sea.”

  “But there are hundreds of reefs here that are not even on the chart,” cried Gregory.

  “Well, there have been thousands of ships to escape them all, I fancy,” said Ridgeway boldly. The two women were speechless.

  “And there have been thousands of storms, too,” added Veath, a sort of wild exultation ringing in his voice, plain to Grace if not to the others.

  “Do not try to deceive us, gentlemen,” wavered Lady Tennys. “We can be a great deal braver if we know the real situation. I know you are making light of this dreadful storm out of consideration for Miss Ridge and myself, but don’t you think it would be better if we were told the worst? Women are not always the greater cowards.”

  “Yes, Hugh, we should know the worst,” said Grace firmly. “The ship is rolling frightfully, and Lieutenant Hamilton has said enough to assure us that Captain Shadburn is alarmed, even apprehensive.”

  “Perhaps I am too much of an optimist, but I stick to my statement that while we are in some danger—any fool can see that—we are by no means lost,” said Hugh, looking at Gregory when he used the word fool.

  “As long as the engine and steering apparatus hold together the crew of the ship can pull her through,” said Veath. “I have the utmost confidence in the boat and the men.”

  “But all the men on the ocean cannot keep her from striking an unseen rock, nor could any ship withstand such a shock,” argued the young Englishwoman bravely.

  “That’s right, Lady Tennys,” quickly cried Hamilton. “I don’t say the ship will get the worst of a straight fight against the sea, but we won’t stand the ghost of a chance if we strike a reef.”

  “The best thing we all can do is to find some place where there is not quite so much danger of having our brains dashed out against these walls. It’s getting so that I can’t keep my feet much longer. This is no time to be taking chances of a broken leg, or an arm or a neck, perhaps. We’ll need them all if we have to swim to Hong Kong.”

  Despite his attempted jocularity, Ridgeway was sorely troubled. Common sense told him that they were now in a most perilous position. The dead reckoning of the captain and his chartmaster, while able to determine with a certain degree of accuracy the locality in which the ship was beating, could not possibly account for the exact position of those little islands. He began to think of the life preservers. A feeble smile came to the ladies when he spoke of swimming to Hong Kong, but the men, Veath included, looked serious.

  “I think it would be wise if we make every preparation to leave the ship, awful as the prospect may seem. My judgment is that we should take time by the forelock. It will be too late after the crash comes.” Veath said this solemnly, and a deeper sense of realization came to all of them. Strange to say, it inspired energy and calmness rather than weakness and panic.

  “The life preservers, you mean?” almost whispered Grace. A fearful lurch of the boat caused the whole party to cling desperately to the supports. Before he could answer a ship’s officer came scudding down below.

  “Captain Shadburn says that every one is to prepare for the worst. The propeller’s smashed and we can’t live in this sea. Be quick!” cried the pale-faced sailor, hurrying onward. In an inconceivably short space of time the passages and saloons were crowded with rushing passengers. Pandemonium prevailed. Women were shrieking, men yelling and praying. Cooler heads were utterly powerless to subdue the crazy disorder. Ridgeway and Veath hurried the two women to their staterooms, plunging along, almost falling with the savage rolling of the boat.

  “For God’s sake, hurry!” called Hamilton from afar. “We are turning into the trough.”

  How our friends got into the cumbersome prese
rvers and prepared themselves for the end they could never have told. Everything seemed a blank, the whole world whirled, all the noises in the universe rolled in their ears. Then they were stumbling, rolling, tearing toward the upper deck, hardly knowing whither they went or how they progressed. Before, behind, beside them were yelling, maddened men and women, rushing upward ruthlessly into the very waves of the ocean, all to be lost.

  On the steps Hugh and Grace, who were together in advance of Veath and Lady Tennys, encountered the latter’s husband. Pie had fallen, and was grovelling, cursing, screaming, praying on the steps. Hugh pulled him to his feet. With a mad yell he fled onward and upward. At the top he was checked by the sailors, who were vainly trying to keep the people back. He struggled past them and on toward the open deck. An officer caught him and held him firmly until Hugh, Veath, and the two trembling women came up.

  “Get back, all of you!” yelled Shadburn. “You can’t come out here. Every sailor on deck has been washed overboard!”

  “Don’t let us sink! Don’t let us sink! For God’s sake!” shrieked Lord Huntingford. Then he saw his wife. “Save me, Tennys; we are lost! We are lost!”

  A great wave swept over the deck, washing all of them back into the companionway, half drowned.

  “Is there any hope, Mr. Frayne?” yelled Hugh to the second officer, holding himself and his half-dead sweetheart against the leaping of the boat.

  “One chance in a million! Stay back there and we’ll try the boats. God knows they can’t live in this sea, but they’re the only hope. We’ll turn clear over with the next big wave. Stay back!” he yelled. “We are trying to get the boats ready. Stay back!”

  Hugh and Grace from where they clung could see the great black mountains of water rushing upon them, each wave a most terrifying spectacle. Then again the whole dark, seething ocean seemed to be below them and they were flying to the clouds. The breath of relief died instantly, for again the helpless ship sank into the trough and the foaming mountains towered about her. Grace hid her eyes and screamed with terror. Those huge murderous waves already had swept many from the ship. A score of sailors and as many courageous soldiers were in the churn of the merciless waters.