CHAPTER IV
DISASTER
Left alone, Mademoiselle de Bromsart finished the all but completedpiece of embroidery in her lap. It did not take her five minutes. Thenshe held up the work and reviewed it with lips slightly pursed, then sherolled it up, rose, and went off to the state-room of Madame de Warensto bid her good-night.
Madame was sitting up in her bunk reading Maurice Barres' "Greco." Theair of the place was stifling with the fume of cigarettes, and the girlnearly choked as she closed the door and stood facing the old lady inthe bunk.
"Why don't you smoke, then you wouldn't mind it," cried the latter,putting her book down and taking off her glasses. "No, I won't have aport opened, d'you want me to be blown out of my bunk? Sit down."
"No, I won't stay," replied the other, "I just came to saygood-night--and tell you something--He asked me to marry him."
"Who--Selm?"
"Yes."
"And what did you say?"
"I said 'No.'"
"Oh, you did?--and what's the matter with him--I mean what's the matterwith you?"
"How?"
"How! The best match in Europe and you say 'no' to him--a man who couldmarry where he pleases and whom he pleased and you say 'no.'Good-looking, without vices, richer than many a crowned head, secondonly to the reigning families--and you say 'no.'"
The old lady was working herself up. This admirer of Anarchasis Clootzand dilletanti of Anarchism had lately possessed one supreme desire, thedesire to have for niece the Princess Selm.
"I thought you didn't believe in all that," said the girl.
"All what?"
"Titles, wealth and so forth."
"I believe in seeing you happy and well-placed. I was not thinking ofmyself--well, there, it's done. There is no use in talking any more, forI know your disposition. You are hard, mademoiselle, that is yourfailing--without real heart. It is the modern disease. Well, that is allI have to say. I wish you good-night."
She put on her spectacles again.
"Good-night," said the other.
She went out, closed the door, and entered her state-room.
It was the same as Madame de Warens' only larger, a place to fill themind of the old-time seafarers with the wildest surprise, for here waseverything that a mortal could demand in the way of comfort and nothingof the stuffy upholstery that the word "state-rooms" suggests to themind of the ordinary traveller.
The crimson velvet, so dear to the heart of the ship furnisher, wassupplanted by ribbed silk, Persian rugs covered the floor, the metalfittings were of bronze, and worked, where possible, into sea designs:dolphins, sea-horses, and fucus. There was a writing-table that could beclosed up into the wall so cunningly that no trace was left of where ithad been, a tiny library of slim volumes uniformly bound in amberleather, a miracle of binding, the work of Grossart of Tours, a map-rackcontaining large scale maps of the world, and a tell-tale compassshewing the course of the _Gaston de Paris_ to whomever cared to readit. A long mirror let into the bulkhead aft increased the apparent sizeof the place. A bath-room and dressing-room lay forward.
Having closed the door she stood for a moment glancing at her reflectionin the mirror. The picture seemed to fascinate her as though it were thereflection of some stranger. Then, turning from the mirror, she sat downfor a moment on the couch by the door.
She felt disturbed. The words of Madame de Warens had angered her,producing the effect of a false accusation to which one is too proud toreply, but the momentary anger had passed, giving place to a craving forfreedom and fresh air. The atmosphere of the state-room felt stifling,she would go on deck. Then she remembered that she was in a thin eveningdress and that she would have to change.
The two women shared a maid, and she was in the act of stretching outher hand to the electric bell by the couch to summon the maid, when thecraving to get on deck without delay became so strong that she rose,went into the dressing-room and, without assistance, changed her gownfor a tweed coat and skirt and her thin evening shoes for a pair ofserviceable boots. Then she slipped on her oilskin and sou'wester andcoming back into the state-room caught a momentary glimpse of herself inthe mirror, a strange contrast to the elegant and black-gowned figurethat had glanced at its reflection only ten minutes before.
She was coming up the saloon companion-way when the engines, easilyheard from here, suddenly began a thunderous pow-wow; the ship lurchedforward, and from the blackness of the open hatch above came a voicelike the sudden clamour of sea-gulls. Then she was flung backwards andstretched, half-stunned, on the mat at the companion-way foot.
For a moment she did not know in the least what had happened. Shefancied she had slipped and fallen, then, as she scrambled on to herhands and knees, someone passed her, nearly treading on her, and rushedup the companion-way to the deck. It was the chief steward. Rising andholding on to the rail she followed him.
The deck was aslant, and in the windy blackness of the night nothing wasto be seen for a moment; but the darkness was terrific with voices,voices from forward of the bridge and voices from alongside as though ahundred drunken sailors were yelling and blaspheming from a quay.
For the tenth of a second the idea of being alongside a quay came to herwith nightmare effect, heightened by a ruffling and booming from the skyabove, a rippling and flapping and thundering like the sound of vast andtangled wings.
Then a blaze of light shot out, making day.
The arc lamp of the fore-mast, always ready to be used for night work,had been run up and switched on.
To starboard and stern of the _Gaston de Paris_, a great ship, withinpistol shot of the deck, and with her canvas spilling the wind andthrashing and thundering, was dipping her bows in the sea. Men werefighting for the boats, and the stern was so high that more than half ofthe rudder shewed like a great door swinging on its hinges. On thecounter in pale letters the word
"_Albatross_"
shewed, and to the mind of the gazer all the horror seemed focussed inthat calm statement, those commonplace letters written upon destruction.
Clinging to the hatch combing she saw, now, as a person sees in a dream,sailors rushing and struggling aft along the slanting main deck. Theengines had ceased working but the dynamos were running on steam fromthe main boilers, and through the noises that filled the night thesewing machine sound of them threshed like a pulse. What had happened,what was happening, she did not know. The great ship to port seemedsinking but the _Gaston de Paris_ seemed safe, but for the horribleslant of the decks; she called out to the sailors, now clustered hereand there by the boat davits, but her voice blew away on the wind, shesaw Prince Selm, he was struggling aft along the slippery sloping deck,clutching at the bulwarks as he came, he seemed like a man engaged insome fantastic game--an unreal figure, now he was on the deck on allfours, now up again, clutching men by the shoulders, shaking them,shouting. She could hear his voice. The starboard boats were unworkableowing to the list to port. She did not know that, she only knew, and nowfor the first time, that the _Gaston de Paris_ was in fearful danger.And instantly the thought came to her of the old woman below in her bunkand, on the thought, the mad instinct to rush below and save her.
Holding on to the woodwork of the hatch she was crawling towards theopening when blackness hit her like a blow between the eyes. The arclamp had gone out, the dynamos had ceased running.
On the stroke of the darkness the _Gaston de Paris_ heeled slightlydeeper, flinging her to her knees, and as she hung, clutching thewoodwork, she heard her name.
It was the Prince's voice. She answered, and at once on her answer ahand seized her cruelly as a vice. It caught her by the shoulder. Shefelt herself dragged along, buffeted, lifted, cast down--then nothingmore.
The Beach of Dreams: A Romance Page 4