illness or accidents, plenty of fish, and strong sailing winds.
And then, unexpectedly--no one knew why exactly--he ended up with anabrupt request that nothing from the kingdom of darkness should beallowed to afflict our peace, and no evil thing come near to disturb usin the night-time.
And while he uttered these last surprising words, so strangely unlikehis usual ending, it chanced that I looked up and let my eyes wanderround the group assembled about the dying fire. And it certainly seemedto me that Sangree's face underwent a sudden and visible alteration. Hewas staring at Joan, and as he stared the change ran over it like ashadow and was gone. I started in spite of myself, for something oddlyconcentrated, potent, collected, had come into the expression usually soscattered and feeble. But it was all swift as a passing meteor, and whenI looked a second time his face was normal and he was looking among thetrees.
And Joan, luckily, had not observed him, her head being bowed and hereyes tightly closed while her father prayed.
"The girl has a vivid imagination indeed," I thought, half laughing, asI lit the lanterns, "if her thoughts can put a glamour upon mine in thisway"; and yet somehow, when we said good-night, I took occasion to giveher a few vigorous words of encouragement, and went to her tent to makesure I could find it quickly in the night in case anything happened. Inher quick way the girl understood and thanked me, and the last thing Iheard as I moved off to the men's quarters was Mrs. Maloney crying thatthere were beetles in her tent, and Joan's laughter as she went to helpher turn them out.
Half an hour later the island was silent as the grave, but for themournful voices of the wind as it sighed up from the sea. Like whitesentries stood the three tents of the men on one side of the ridge, andon the other side, half hidden by some birches, whose leaves justshivered as the breeze caught them, the women's tents, patches ofghostly grey, gathered more closely together for mutual shelter andprotection. Something like fifty yards of broken ground, grey rock, mossand lichen, lay between, and over all lay the curtain of the night andthe great whispering winds from the forests of Scandinavia.
And the very last thing, just before floating away on that mighty wavethat carries one so softly off into the deeps of forgetfulness, I againheard the voice of John Silence as the train moved out of VictoriaStation; and by some subtle connection that met me on the very thresholdof consciousness there rose in my mind simultaneously the memory of thegirl's half-given confidence, and of her distress. As by some wizardryof approaching dreams they seemed in that instant to be related; butbefore I could analyse the why and the wherefore, both sank away out ofsight again, and I was off beyond recall.
"Unless you should send for me sooner."
II
Whether Mrs. Maloney's tent door opened south or east I think she neverdiscovered, for it is quite certain she always slept with the flaptightly fastened; I only know that my own little "five by seven, allsilk" faced due east, because next morning the sun, pouring in as onlythe wilderness sun knows how to pour, woke me early, and a moment later,with a short run over soft moss and a flying dive from the graniteledge, I was swimming in the most sparkling water imaginable.
It was barely four o'clock, and the sun came down a long vista of blueislands that led out to the open sea and Finland. Nearer by rose thewooded domes of our own property, still capped and wreathed with smokytrails of fast-melting mist, and looking as fresh as though it was themorning of Mrs. Maloney's Sixth Day and they had just issued, clean andbrilliant, from the hands of the great Architect.
In the open spaces the ground was drenched with dew, and from the sea acool salt wind stole in among the trees and set the branches tremblingin an atmosphere of shimmering silver. The tents shone white where thesun caught them in patches. Below lay the lagoon, still dreaming of thesummer night; in the open the fish were jumping busily, sending musicalripples towards the shore; and in the air hung the magic ofdawn--silent, incommunicable.
I lit the fire, so that an hour later the clergyman should find goodashes to stir his porridge over, and then set forth upon an examinationof the island, but hardly had I gone a dozen yards when I saw a figurestanding a little in front of me where the sunlight fell in a pool amongthe trees.
It was Joan. She had already been up an hour, she told me, and hadbathed before the last stars had left the sky. I saw at once that thenew spirit of this solitary region had entered into her, banishing thefears of the night, for her face was like the face of a happy denizen ofthe wilderness, and her eyes stainless and shining. Her feet were bare,and drops of dew she had shaken from the branches hung in herloose-flying hair. Obviously she had come into her own.
"I've been all over the island," she announced laughingly, "and thereare two things wanting."
"You're a good judge, Joan. What are they?"
"There's no animal life, and there's no--water."
"They go together," I said. "Animals don't bother with a rock like thisunless there's a spring on it."
And as she led me from place to place, happy and excited, leapingadroitly from rock to rock, I was glad to note that my first impressionswere correct. She made no reference to our conversation of the nightbefore. The new spirit had driven out the old. There was no room in herheart for fear or anxiety, and Nature had everything her own way.
The island, we found, was some three-quarters of a mile from point topoint, built in a circle, or wide horseshoe, with an opening of twentyfeet at the mouth of the lagoon. Pine-trees grew thickly all over, buthere and there were patches of silver birch, scrub oak, andconsiderable colonies of wild raspberry and gooseberry bushes. The twoends of the horseshoe formed bare slabs of smooth granite running intothe sea and forming dangerous reefs just below the surface, but the restof the island rose in a forty-foot ridge and sloped down steeply to thesea on either side, being nowhere more than a hundred yards wide.
The outer shore-line was much indented with numberless coves and baysand sandy beaches, with here and there caves and precipitous littlecliffs against which the sea broke in spray and thunder. But the innershore, the shore of the lagoon, was low and regular, and so wellprotected by the wall of trees along the ridge that no storm could eversend more than a passing ripple along its sandy marges. Eternal shelterreigned there.
On one of the other islands, a few hundred yards away--for the rest ofthe party slept late this first morning, and we took to the canoe--wediscovered a spring of fresh water untainted by the brackish flavour ofthe Baltic, and having thus solved the most important problem of theCamp, we next proceeded to deal with the second--fish. And in half anhour we reeled in and turned homewards, for we had no means of storage,and to clean more fish than may be stored or eaten in a day is no wiseoccupation for experienced campers.
And as we landed towards six o'clock we heard the clergyman singing asusual and saw his wife and Sangree shaking out their blankets in thesun, and dressed in a fashion that finally dispelled all memories ofstreets and civilisation.
"The Little People lit the fire for me," cried Maloney, looking naturaland at home in his ancient flannel suit and breaking off in the middleof his singing, "so I've got the porridge going--and this time it's_not_ burnt."
We reported the discovery of water and held up the fish.
"Good! Good again!" he cried. "We'll have the first decent breakfastwe've had this year. Sangree'll clean 'em in no time, and the Bo'sun'sMate--"
"Will fry them to a turn," laughed the voice of Mrs. Maloney, appearingon the scene in a tight blue jersey and sandals, and catching up thefrying-pan. Her husband always called her the Bo'sun's Mate in Camp,because it was her duty, among others, to pipe all hands to meals.
"And as for you, Joan," went on the happy man, "you look like the spiritof the island, with moss in your hair and wind in your eyes, and sun andstars mixed in your face." He looked at her with delighted admiration."Here, Sangree, take these twelve, there's a good fellow, they're thebiggest; and we'll have 'em in butter in less time than you can sayBaltic island!"
I watched the Canadian
as he slowly moved off to the cleaning pail. Hiseyes were drinking in the girl's beauty, and a wave of passionate,almost feverish, joy passed over his face, expressive of the ecstasy oftrue worship more than anything else. Perhaps he was thinking that hestill had three weeks to come with that vision always before his eyes;perhaps he was thinking of his dreams in the night. I cannot say. But Inoticed the curious mingling of yearning and happiness in his eyes, andthe strength of the impression touched my curiosity. Something in hisface held my gaze for a second, something to do with its intensity. Thatso timid, so gentle a personality should conceal so virile a passionalmost seemed to require explanation.
But the impression was momentary, for that first breakfast in Camppermitted no divided attentions, and I dare
Three More John Silence Stories Page 11