Everywhere about them were proofs of the indefatigable but lamentable industry of their dusky friends. Articles inconceivable in more ways than one were heaped in the huge room. Nondescript is no word to describe the heterogeneous collection of things supposed to be useful as well as ornamental. Household utensils, pieces of furniture, bric-a-brac of the most appalling design, knickknacks and gewgaws without end or purpose stared the bewildered white people in the face with an intensity that confused and embarrassed them beyond power of expression.
Shortly after their strange betrothal, Lady Tennys had become a strong advocate of dress reform for women on the island of Nedra. Neat, loose and convenient pajamas succeeded the cumbersome petticoats of everyday life. She, as well as her subjects, made use of these thrifty garments at all times except on occasions of state. They were cooler, more rational—particularly becoming—and less troublesome than skirts, and their advent created great rejoicing among the natives, who, prior to the arrival of their white leaders, had worn little more than nothing and yet had been quite fashionable.
Tennys was secretly rehearsing the marriage ceremony in the privacy of her chamber, prompted and praised by her faithful handmaidens. To her, this startling wedding meant but one thing: the resignation of all intent to leave the island. The day she and Hugh Ridgeway were united according to the custom sacred to these people, their fate was to be sealed forever. It was to bind them irrevocably to Nedra, closing forever to them the chance of returning to the civilization they had known and were relinquishing.
Ridgeway daily inventoried his rapidly increasing stock of war implements, proud of the prowess that had made him a war-god. He soberly prohibited the construction of a great boat which might have carried him and his fair companion back to the old world.
“If we are rescued before the wedding, dear, all well and good; but if not, then we want no boat, either of our own or other construction, to carry us away. Our wedding day will make us citizens of Ridgehunt until death ends the regime. Our children may depart, but we are the Izors of Nedra to the last hour of life.”
“Yes,” she said simply.
The fortnight immediately prior to the day set for the wedding was an exciting one for the bride and groom-to-be. Celebration of the great event was already under way by the natives. Great feasts were planned and executed; war dances and riots of worship took place, growing in fervor and splendor as the day approached; preparations never flagged but went on as if the future existence of the whole world depended entirely upon the outcome of this great ceremony.
“Yesterday it was a week, now it is but six days,” said Hugh early one morning as they set forth to watch their adorers at work on the great ceremonial temple with its “wedding ring.” The new temple was a huge affair, large enough to accommodate the entire populace.
“Tomorrow it will be but five days,” she said; “but how long the days are growing.” They sat beside the spring on the hillside and musingly surveyed the busy architects on the plain below.
“How are the rehearsals progressing?” he asked.
“Excellently, but I am far from being a perfect savage. It doesn’t seem possible that I shall ever learn how to fall gracefully into that ring. I believe I shall insist that you turn your head at the particular juncture, for I know you’ll laugh at me,” she said with a great show of concern.
“I don’t like that part of the service. It’s a shame for me to stand by and to see you tumble at my feet. Firstly, it’s not your place; secondly, it’s liable to hurt you; lastly, I’d feel a most unmanly brute. Wonder if we can’t modify that part of it somehow?”
“I might be carried in on a litter and set down in the ring, or we might stretch a hammock,” she said, laughing merrily.
“I’m determined on one point and that is in regard to the pile of soft grass. Pootoo promised to cut a lot of it and put it in the ring. You shan’t break any bones if I can help it.”
“Pootoo is to be master of ceremonies in every sense of the word, I can see. I am the ward of a king.”
At last the day arrived.
They were to enter the ceremonial temple at high noon and in their ears were to be the sound of timbrels and brass, trumpets and drums and the glad though raucous songs of a kingdom.
Early in the day Tennys Huntingford submitted herself to be arrayed for the ceremony by her proud, jealous maidens. She remained alone and obscure in her chamber, awaiting the moment when King Pootoo should come for her. Her gown was of the purest white. It was her own handiwork, the loving labor of months. True, it would have looked odd in St. James or in the cathedral, but no bride ever walked to those chancels in more becoming raiment—no bride was ever more beautiful, no woman ever more to be coveted. Her heart was singing with love and joy; the dreams of months were coming true in these strangely wakeful hours.
Ridgeway wandered nervously through the village, watching the sun as it crept nearer and nearer to the middle of its daily reign—would the minutes never end? Why had the sun stopped in its course across the sky? Why was time so tantalizing?
At last! The sudden clangor of weird instruments filled his ears. He held his hand to his throbbing heart as he turned his gaze toward the door through which she was to come.
Inside the great temple the people of Nedra were singing and chanting with anticipant joy; outside the world was smiling benignly. All Nedra gathered about the circle of earth in which Tennys Huntingford was to cast herself at the feet of her husband and lord for all time.
Hugh had not seen her since the night before, and his eyes were starving for the vision. She came forth, her white hand in the great broad palm of King Pootoo, and she smiled gloriously upon the man who stood below and waited for her to come to him. Together they were to approach the circle. The priests were there to receive them—Hugh first and then his bride; the people were shouting, the instruments were jangling with a fiercer fervor, the sun was passing across the line with his fairest smile and wedding bells were ringing in two red, full hearts.
But even as she came up to him and touched his arm, outside the temple doors, the hand of Fate was lifted and a rigid finger stayed them on the verge.
A mighty intonation, sharp and deafening, came to their ears like a clap of thunder from a clear sky!
Paralysis, stupefaction, fell upon the multitude. There was a silence as of death. Every sound ceased, every heart stood still and every sense was numb. It seemed an hour before Hugh Ridgeway’s stiff lips muttered:
“A gun! A ship’s gun!”
CHAPTER XXXII
THE CRUISER “WINNETKA”
A moment later pandemonium broke loose. The ceremony was forgotten in the panic that seized the startled savages. There was a rush, a stampede of terror and the great temple was emptied as if by magic. Hugh and his fair companion stood alone in the little plain, staring at the distant gateposts, over which a faint cloud of smoke was lifting, coming up from the sea beyond. The terrified savages had fled to their homes in wildest alarm.
Minutes passed before Hugh could speak again. Power of comprehension seemed to have left them. They were looking dumbly into each other’s eyes.
“It was a gun—a big gun. Our flag.”
Without knowing what they did the two started across the plain, their eyes glued to the great rocks that screened the mystery.
“Can it be the Oolooz men?” she asked.
“The whole Oolooz army, dead or alive, couldn’t have made a noise like that. It might have been a volcano breaking through the rocks.”
“Then we must not venture down there,” she cried, holding back. He threw his big right arm around her waist and broke into a brisk run, taking her along resistlessly.
Together they walked and ran across the plain and through the pass which led to the sea. Far behind straggled a few of the villagers, emboldened by curiosity.
“The rocks seem to be all right,” he said, as if a pet theory had been destroyed.
By this time they had passed over th
e rocks and were upon the sand. Simultaneously they turned their eyes toward the sea, and the sight that burst upon them fairly took the breath from their lungs, leaving them so weak that they staggered. A mile or so out at sea lay a huge ship, white hulled and formidable. There were gun turrets above deck and a swarm of men on board.
Hugh’s eyes seemed to turn round and round in his head, his legs began to tremble and his palsied lips parted helplessly, as he pointed to the colors she flew. The American flag fluttered from the mizzen-mast of the great vessel!
Almost crazed by the sight, the castaways, overcoming their stupefaction, forgetting all that had gone before, danced frantically on the sand hill, their ecstasy knowing no bounds.
“Will they see us?” she sobbed, falling at last to the ground in sheer exhaustion, digging her fingers feverishly, unconsciously into the sand.
“Yes, yes! They must see us! We are saved! Saved!” he yelled hoarsely. Then he threw himself beside her, and they were clasped in each other’s arms, crying like children. Afterward they could remember only that they saw a boat lowered from the ship. It came toward them, a white uniformed officer standing in the bow. As the boat drew near Tennys began to regain her equanimity. She withdrew hastily from Hugh’s arms and arose. With streaming eyes she waved her hands in response to the faraway salute of the officer. Hugh, not so easily restrained, jumped to his feet and shouted:
“Hurrah! Hurrah! God bless you! American sailors! Angels of heaven, every one of you! Hurrah!”
Holding their hands to their temples, the castaways finally calmed themselves enough to look rationally at each other. Their minds began to regain order, their nerves were quieted, their hearts forgot the tumult, and they could think and talk and reason again. In the fierce ecstasy of seeing the long-looked-for rescuers, they had forgotten their expressed desire to live always on the island. Human nature had overcome sentiment and they rejoiced in what they had regarded as a calamity an hour before. Now they realized that a crisis had come.
“Hugh, will they take us away?” she cried, real anguish mingling with triumphant joy.
“Shall we go or stay?” cried he, torn by two emotions.
“It may be the end of our happiness,” she whispered, pale as death. “I will stay here forever, Hugh, if you like.”
“Do you want to go?”
“I want to go and I want to stay. What shall we do?”
“Go! We shall be happy. Nothing shall part us, darling.”
“But Grace? What if she is alive?” she asked faintly.
“God grant she is. I’ll throw myself at her feet and she shall be made to understand,” he said, but a nameless chill crossed him.
“You would break her heart,” moaned she. “Our poor, poor wedding day.”
“There will be another glad and joyous day,” he said, trying to find heart.
“I will go where you go, Hugh,” she said.
A few long sweeps of the oars and the white boat, with its blue trimmings, shot upon the beach, and the officer leaped forward to meet the waiting pair.
“I am Ensign Carruthers, United States cruiser Winnetka, Captain Hildebrand commanding. We saw your flag and were considerably mystified,” he said, doffing his cap to her Ladyship. But Ridgeway, forgetting politeness, dignity and reserve, rushed up and grabbed him by the hand, mad with the exuberance of joy.
“Saved! Saved! Saved!”
Carruthers, dumbfounded, looked from one to the other of the now frantic couple. He saw white people dressed in most unusual garments, the woman possessing a gloriously beautiful face and the air of royalty, the man bushy haired and stalwart, every inch a gentleman and an American.
“What does this mean?” he demanded.
“You are the first white man we have seen in more than a year,” cried Hugh.
“We have seen none but savages,” added she, tears of happiness starting afresh down her cheeks.
“You were wrecked?” exclaimed the sailor, appalled.
It was an incoherent recital that the two poured into his ears, first one, then the other talking excitedly, but it was not long before he was in possession of all the facts.
“You were on the Tempest Queen,” he cried, doubting his ears.
“Was no one saved?” they cried breathlessly.
“The captain and five or six passengers, I think, were picked up, almost starved, in a boat, some days after the wreck. All others were lost.”
“Who were the passengers?” asked Hugh, trembling with eagerness.
“I don’t recall the names.”
“Was there a Miss Ridge among them?”
“Was Lord Huntingford saved?”
“I can’t say as to the lady, but I know that Lord Huntingford was lost. I remember the papers were full of headlines about him and his young wife. His dead body was picked up by a steamer. She was not found.”
“She has just been found,” said Hugh. “This it Lady Huntingford.”
* * * *
The Winnetka was on a three years’ cruise. Her engines had broken down a few days before, during a storm, and she was carried out of her course. The machinery being repaired, she was now picking her way toward Manila. The sailors were sent back to the warship, with information for the commander, and Carruthers accompanied the joyous couple to the village. The natives had seen the ship and the white men, and there was intense excitement among them.
Then came the struggle for Hugh and Tennys Huntingford. For an hour they wavered and then the die was cast. Back to the old world!
When it became known that the Izors who had done so much for them were to leave the island on the big, strange thing of the deep, the greatest consternation and grief ensued. Chattering disconsolately, the whole village accompanied the belongings of the Izors to the beach. Lady Tennys and Ridgeway went among their savage friends with the promise to return some day, a promise which they meant to fulfil.
“I’ll have missionaries out here in a month,” vowed Hugh, biting his lips and trying to speak calmly through the grip that was choking him involuntarily.
King Pootoo, the picture of despair, stood knee-deep in the water. As the sailors pushed off, he threw up his hands and wailed aloud; and then the whole tribe behind him fell grovelling in the sand. Two white-robed figures flung themselves in the water and grasped the gunwales as the boat moved away. The sailors tried to drive them off, but they screamed and turned their pleading faces toward their mistress.
“Please take them in,” she cried, and strong arms drew the dusky women into the boat. They were Alzam and Nattoo, the devoted handmaidens of the beautiful Izor. Trembling and in fear of dire punishment for their audacity, they sank to the bottom of the boat. Nor did they cease their moaning until they were on the broad deck of the Winnetka, where astonishment overcame fear.
Slowly the boat moved away from the island of Nedra, just one year after its new passengers had set foot on its shores. High upon the top of the tall gatepost fluttered the frayed remnants of an American flag. The captain pointed toward it, removed his cap proudly, and then there arose a mighty cheer from the men on board the man o’ war.
CHAPTER XXXIII
APPARITIONS
The Winnetka passed Corregidor Island and dropped anchor in Manila harbor on the morning of June 1st. On the forward deck stood Hugh Ridgeway and Tennys Huntingford. They went ashore with Captain Hildebrand, Ensign Carruthers, the paymaster and several others. Another launch landed their nondescript luggage—their wedding possessions—and the faithful handmaidens. The captain and his passengers went at once to shipping quarters, where the man in charge was asked if he could produce a list of those on board the Tempest Queen at the time she went down.
“I have a list of those who left Aden and of those who were rescued. Did you have friends on board?”
“Yes, we had friends,” answered Hugh, in a choking voice. “First, let me see a list of the lost.” The clerk found the book containing the list, alphabetically arranged, and placed it on the
desk before the trembling man and woman. Both had an insane desire to rush from the office and back to the Winnetka, where they could hide from the very knowledge they were seeking. In their hearts they were wishing for the solitude and happiness of the Island of Nedra. The clerk, observing their anxiety, considerately offered to read the names to them.
“No, I thank you; I’ll look,” said Hugh, resolutely turning to the pages. Lady Tennys leaned weakly against the counter and looked through blurred eyes at the racing lines of ink. Hugh rapidly ran his fingers through the list, passing dozens of passengers they had known. As the finger approached the “R’s” it moved more slowly, more tremblingly. “Reed—Reyer—Ridge!” “Hugh Ridge, Chicago, Illinois, U.S.A.” He grew sick when he saw his own name among those who were dead.
“She was saved,” he murmured, for there was but one Ridge there.
“Look for Vernon,” whispered his companion.
“Van Camp—Valentine—Wilson.” It was not there—nor was Veath’s!
“Are they on the list?” asked the clerk.
“Let me see the names of those who were saved,” said Hugh bravely, joy and anxiety welling to the surface like twin bubbles.
“Two pages over, sir.”
Over went the pages so ruthlessly that the scribe was in trepidation lest they should be crumpled beyond redemption. Hugh read aloud in an unnatural voice:
“Costello—Hamilton—Ridge—Shadburn—Veath.”
His hand fell upon the page and his head dropped forward till his lips touched the name that danced before his eyes.
“Here it is! Here it is!” he shouted, hugging the book.
“Thank God!” cried she, tears rushing to her eyes. Together they read and re-read the name, scarcely able to believe that she was truly one of the few to escape. “And Henry Veath, too. Oh, Hugh, it is a miracle—a real miracle!”
“Old Veath saved her! I knew he would if he had a ghost of a chance. Tennys, Tennys, I can’t believe it is true.” He was beside himself in his excitement. Captain Hildebrand, the clerk, and the other attachés looked on with happy smiles. In this moment of relief they forgot completely that, in leaving the island, they had been filled with a sort of dread lest they should find her who might come between them.
The George Barr McCutcheon Megapack: 25 Classic Novels and Stories Page 187