His grasp was rea.s.suring, and Agatha watched the straining curves of canvas and the line of half-submerged hull. The brig rose with streaming bows, swung high above the sea, sank again, and vanished with bewildering suddenness into a belt of driving fog.
Agatha was not sure that there had been any peril, but it was certainly past now, and she was rather puzzled by her sensations when Wyllard had held her shoulder. For one thing, she had felt instinctively that she was safe with him. She decided not to trouble herself about the reason for this, and presently she looked up at him. The expression that she had noticed now and then was once more in his face.
"I don"t think you like the fog any more than I do," she said.
"No," responded Wyllard, with a quiet forcefulness that startled her. "I hate it."
"Why?"
"It recalls something that still gives me a very bad few minutes every once in a while. It has been worrying me again to-night."
"I wonder," said Agatha simply, "if you would care to tell me?"
The man looked down on her. "I haven"t told it often, but you shall hear," he replied. "It"s a tale of a black failure." He stretched out a hand and pointed to the ranks of tumbling seas. "It was very much this kind of night, and we were lying, reefed down, off one of the Russians"
beaches, when I asked for volunteers. I got them--two boats" crews of the finest seamen that ever handled oar or sealing rifle."
"But what did you want them for?"
"A boat from another schooner had been cast ash.o.r.e. It was blowing hard, as it usually does where the Polar ice comes down into the Behring Sea.
They"d been shooting seals. We meant to bring the men off if we could manage it."
"Wouldn"t one boat have been enough?"
"No," answered Wyllard dryly, "we had three, and I think that was one cause of the trouble. There was one from the other schooner. You see, those seals belonged to the Russians, and we free-lances could shoot them only off sh.o.r.e. I"m not sure that the men in the wrecked boat had been fishing outside the limit."
Agatha did not press for further particulars, and he went on.
"We managed to make a landing, though one boat went up bottom uppermost.
I fancy they must have broken or lost an oar then. We got the wrecked men, but we had trouble while we were getting the boats off again. The surf was running in savagely, and the fog shut down as solid as a wall.
Any way, we pulled off, and went out with a foot of water in one boat.
One of the rescued men took my oar when I let it go."
"Why did you let it go?"
Wyllard laughed in a grim fashion.
"My head was laid open with a sealing club," he said. "Some of the other men had their scratches, but they managed to row. For one thing, they knew they had to. They had reasons for not wanting to fall into the Russians" hands. Well, we cleared the beach, and once or twice, as I tried to bale, there was a shout somewhere near us, and the loom of a vanishing boat. It was all we could make out, for the sea was slopping into the boat, and the spray was flying everywhere. If there had been only two boats we probably would have found out our misfortune, and perhaps would have set it straight. As it was, we couldn"t tell that it was the same boat that had hailed us."
He broke off for a moment, and then added quietly:
"Two boats reached the schooners. There was a nasty sea running then, and it blew viciously hard next day. There were three men in the other."
"Ah!" cried Agatha, "they were drowned?"
Wyllard made a forceful gesture. "I"m not quite sure. That"s the trouble. At least, the boat was nowhere on the beach next day, and it"s difficult to see how the men could have faced the sea that piled up when the gale came down. In all probability, they had an oar short, and the boat rolled them out when a comber broke upon her in the darkness." The girl saw him close one hand tight as he added, "If one only knew!"
"What would have befallen them if they had reached sh.o.r.e?"
"It"s difficult to say. They could have been handed over to the Russian authorities. Still, sealers poaching up there have simply disappeared."
He stopped again, and glanced out at the gathering darkness. "Now," he concluded, "you see why I hate the fog."
"But you couldn"t help it," said Agatha.
"Well," answered Wyllard, "I asked for volunteers, and the money that is now mine came out of those schooners. It"s just possible those men are living still--somewhere in Northern Asia. I only know that they disappeared."
He abruptly began to talk of something else, and by and by Agatha went down to the saloon, where Miss Rawlinson, who had not been much in evidence during the voyage, presently made her appearance.
"Aren"t you going into the music-room to play for Mr. Wyllard--as usual?" she inquired.
Agatha was disconcerted. She had fallen into the habit of spending half an hour or longer in the little music-room every evening, with Wyllard standing near the piano; but now her friend"s question seemed to place a significance upon the fact.
"No," she replied, "I don"t think I am."
"Then the rest of them will wonder whether you have fallen out with him."
"Fallen out with him?"
Winifred laughed. "They"ve naturally been watching both of you, and, in a general way, there"s only one decision they could have arrived at."
Agatha flushed a little, but Winifred went on.
"I don"t mind admitting that if a man of that kind was to fall in love with me, I"d black his boots for him," she said. She added, with a rueful gesture, "Still, it"s most unlikely."
Agatha looked at her with a little glint in her eyes.
"He is merely Gregory"s deputy," she said, with a subconscious feeling that the word "deputy" was not a fortunate one. "In that connection, I should like to point out that you can estimate a man"s character by that of his friends."
"Oh," rejoined Winifred, "then if Mr. Wyllard"s strong points merely heighten Gregory"s virtues, I"ve nothing more to say. Any way, I"ll reserve my homage until I"ve seen Gregory. Perfection among men is scarce nowadays."
She turned away, and left Agatha thoughtful. In the meanwhile, Mrs.
Hastings came upon Wyllard alone in the music-room.
"You look quite serious," she remarked.
"I"ve been thinking about Miss Ismay and Gregory," Wyllard replied. "In fact, I feel a little anxious about them."
"In what way?"
"Without making any reflections upon Gregory, I somewhat feel sorry for the girl."
Mrs. Hastings nodded. "As a matter of fact, that"s very much what I felt from the first," she admitted. "Still, you see, there"s the important fact that she"s fond of him, and it should smooth out a good many difficulties. Anyway, she"s evidently rather a courageous person."
Wyllard sat silent a moment or two. "I wasn"t troubling about the material difficulties--lack of wealth and all that," he said. "I was wondering if she really could be fond of him. It is some years since she was much in his company."
"Hawtrey is not a man to change."
"That," returned Wyllard, "is just the trouble. I"ve no doubt he"s much the same, but one could fancy that Miss Ismay has changed a good deal since she last saw him. She"ll look for considerably more than she was probably content with then."