my will, set itself sharply and persistently upon the watch fromthat very moment. Thenceforward the personality of Sangree was neverfar from my thoughts, and I was for ever analysing and searching for theexplanation that took so long in coming.
"I declare, Hubbard, you're tanned like an aboriginal, and you look likeone, too," laughed Maloney.
"And I can return the compliment," was my reply, as we all gatheredround a brew of tea to exchange news and compare notes.
And later, at supper, it amused me to observe that the distinguishedtutor, once clergyman, did not eat his food quite as "nicely" as he didat home--he devoured it; that Mrs. Maloney ate more, and, to say theleast, with less delay, than was her custom in the select atmosphere ofher English dining-room; and that while Joan attacked her tin platefulwith genuine avidity, Sangree, the Canadian, bit and gnawed at his,laughing and talking and complimenting the cook all the while, andmaking me think with secret amusement of a starved animal at its firstmeal. While, from their remarks about myself, I judged that I hadchanged and grown wild as much as the rest of them.
In this and in a hundred other little ways the change showed, waysdifficult to define in detail, but all proving--not the coarseningeffect of leading the primitive life, but, let us say, the more directand unvarnished methods that became prevalent. For all day long we werein the bath of the elements--wind, water, sun--and just as the bodybecame insensible to cold and shed unnecessary clothing, the mind grewstraightforward and shed many of the disguises required by theconventions of civilisation.
And in each, according to temperament and character, there stirred thelife-instincts that were natural, untamed, and, in a sense--savage.
III
So it came about that I stayed with our island party, putting off mysecond exploring trip from day to day, and I think that this far-fetchedinstinct to watch Sangree was really the cause of my postponement.
For another ten days the life of the Camp pursued its even anddelightful way, blessed by perfect summer weather, a good harvest offish, fine winds for sailing, and calm, starry nights. Maloney's selfishprayer had been favourably received. Nothing came to disturb or perplex.There was not even the prowling of night animals to vex the rest of Mrs.Maloney; for in previous camps it had often been her peculiar afflictionthat she heard the porcupines scratching against the canvas, or thesquirrels dropping fir-cones in the early morning with a sound ofminiature thunder upon the roof of her tent. But on this island therewas not even a squirrel or a mouse. I think two toads and a small andharmless snake were the only living creatures that had been discoveredduring the whole of the first fortnight. And these two toads in allprobability were not two toads, but one toad.
Then, suddenly, came the terror that changed the whole aspect of theplace--the devastating terror.
It came, at first, gently, but from the very start it made me realisethe unpleasant loneliness of our situation, our remote isolation in thiswilderness of sea and rock, and how the islands in this tideless Balticocean lay about us like the advance guard of a vast besieging army. Itsentry, as I say, was gentle, hardly noticeable, in fact, to most of us:singularly undramatic it certainly was. But, then, in actual life thisis often the way the dreadful climaxes move upon us, leaving the heartundisturbed almost to the last minute, and then overwhelming it with asudden rush of horror. For it was the custom at breakfast to listenpatiently while each in turn related the trivial adventures of thenight--how they slept, whether the wind shook their tent, whether thespider on the ridge pole had moved, whether they had heard the toad, andso forth--and on this particular morning Joan, in the middle of a littlepause, made a truly novel announcement:
"In the night I heard the howling of a dog," she said, and then flushedup to the roots of her hair when we burst out laughing. For the idea ofthere being a dog on this forsaken island that was only able to supporta snake and two toads was distinctly ludicrous, and I remember Maloney,half-way through his burnt porridge, capping the announcement bydeclaring that he had heard a "Baltic turtle" in the lagoon, and hiswife's expression of frantic alarm before the laughter undeceived her.
But the next morning Joan repeated the story with additional andconvincing detail.
"Sounds of whining and growling woke me," she said, "and I distinctlyheard sniffing under my tent, and the scratching of paws."
"Oh, Timothy! Can it be a porcupine?" exclaimed the Bo'sun's Mate withdistress, forgetting that Sweden was not Canada.
But the girl's voice had sounded to me in quite another key, and lookingup I saw that her father and Sangree were staring at her hard. They,too, understood that she was in earnest, and had been struck by theserious note in her voice.
"Rubbish, Joan! You are always dreaming something or other wild," herfather said a little impatiently.
"There's not an animal of any size on the whole island," added Sangreewith a puzzled expression. He never took his eyes from her face.
"But there's nothing to prevent one swimming over," I put in briskly,for somehow a sense of uneasiness that was not pleasant had woven itselfinto the talk and pauses. "A deer, for instance, might easily land inthe night and take a look round--"
"Or a bear!" gasped the Bo'sun's Mate, with a look so portentous that weall welcomed the laugh.
But Joan did not laugh. Instead, she sprang up and called to us tofollow.
"There," she said, pointing to the ground by her tent on the side farthestfrom her mother's; "there are the marks close to my head. You cansee for yourselves."
We saw plainly. The moss and lichen--for earth there was hardly any--hadbeen scratched up by paws. An animal about the size of a large dog itmust have been, to judge by the marks. We stood and stared in a row.
"Close to my head," repeated the girl, looking round at us. Her face, Inoticed, was very pale, and her lip seemed to quiver for an instant.Then she gave a sudden gulp--and burst into a flood of tears.
The whole thing had come about in the brief space of a few minutes, andwith a curious sense of inevitableness, moreover, as though it had allbeen carefully planned from all time and nothing could have stopped it.It had all been rehearsed before--had actually happened before, as thestrange feeling sometimes has it; it seemed like the opening movement insome ominous drama, and that I knew exactly what would happen next.Something of great moment was impending.
For this sinister sensation of coming disaster made itself felt from thevery beginning, and an atmosphere of gloom and dismay pervaded theentire Camp from that moment forward.
I drew Sangree to one side and moved away, while Maloney took thedistressed girl into her tent, and his wife followed them, energetic andgreatly flustered.
For thus, in undramatic fashion, it was that the terror I have spoken offirst attempted the invasion of our Camp, and, trivial and unimportantthough it seemed, every little detail of this opening scene isphotographed upon my mind with merciless accuracy and precision. Ithappened exactly as described. This was exactly the language used. I seeit written before me in black and white. I see, too, the faces of allconcerned with the sudden ugly signature of alarm where before had beenpeace. The terror had stretched out, so to speak, a first tentativefeeler toward us and had touched the hearts of each with a horriddirectness. And from this moment the Camp changed.
Sangree in particular was visibly upset. He could not bear to see thegirl distressed, and to hear her actually cry was almost more than hecould stand. The feeling that he had no right to protect her hurt himkeenly, and I could see that he was itching to do something to help, andliked him for it. His expression said plainly that he would tear in athousand pieces anything that dared to injure a hair of her head.
We lit our pipes and strolled over in silence to the men's quarters, andit was his odd Canadian expression "Gee whiz!" that drew my attention toa further discovery.
"The brute's been scratching round my tent too," he cried, as he pointedto similar marks by the door and I stooped down to examine them. We bothstared in amazement for several minutes without speaking.
We traced the paw-marks from the mouth of his tent in a direct lineacross to the girl's, but nowhere else about the Camp was there a signof the strange visitor. The deer, dog, or whatever it was that had twicefavoured us with a visit in the night, had confined its attentions tothese two tents. And, after all, there was really nothing out of the wayabout these visits of an unknown animal, for although our own island wasdestitute of life, we were in the heart of a wilderness, and themainland and larger islands must be swarming with all kinds offour-footed creatures, and no very prolonged swimming was necessary toreach us. In any other country it would not have caused a moment'sinterest--interest of the kind we felt, that is. In our Canadian campsthe bears were for ever grunting
Three More John Silence Stories Page 13