Well, he, Jenks, might have something to say in that regard. By midnight the moon would illumine nearly the whole of Prospect Park. If the Mahommedan were slain in front of the cavern his soul would travel to the next world attended by a Nizam"s cohort of slaughtered slaves.
Even if the man succeeded in eluding the vigilance of his present a.s.sociates, where was the water to come from? There was none on the island save that in the well. In all likelihood the Dyaks had a store in the remaining sampans, but the native ally of the beleaguered pair would have a task of exceeding difficulty in obtaining one of the jars or skins containing it.
Again, granting all things went well that night, what would be the final outcome of the struggle? How long could Iris withstand the exposure, the strain, the heart-breaking misery of the rock? The future was blurred, crowded with ugly and affrighting fiends pa.s.sing in fantastic array before his vision, and mouthing dumb threats of madness and death.
He shook restlessly, not aware that the girl"s sorrowful glance, luminous with love and pain, was fixed upon him. Summarily dismissing these grisly phantoms of the mind, he asked himself what the Mahommedan exactly meant by warning him against the trees on the right and the "silent death" that might come from them. He was about to crawl forth to the lip of the rock and investigate matters in that locality when Iris, who also was busy with her thoughts, restrained him.
"Wait a little while," she said. "None of the Dyaks will venture into the open until night falls. And I have something to say to you."
There was a quiet solemnity in her voice that Jenks had never heard before. It chilled him. His heart acknowledged a quick sense of evil omen. He raised himself slightly and turned towards her. Her face, beautiful and serene beneath its disfigurements, wore an expression of settled purpose. For the life of him he dared not question her.
"That man, the interpreter," she said, "told you that if I were given up to the chief, he and his followers would go away and molest you no more."
His forehead seamed with sudden anger.
"A mere bait," he protested. "In any event it is hardly worth discussion."
And the answer came, clear and resolute--
"I think I will agree to those terms."
At first he regarded her with undisguised and wordless amazement. Then the appalling thought darted through his brain that she contemplated this supreme sacrifice in order to save him. A clammy sweat bedewed his brow, but by sheer will power he contrived to say--
"You must be mad to even dream of such a thing. Don"t you understand what it means to you--and to me? It is a ruse to trap us. They are ungoverned savages. Once they had you in their power they would laugh at a promise made to me."
"You may be mistaken. They must have some sense of fair dealing. Even a.s.suming that such was their intention, they may depart from it. They have already lost a great many men. Their chief, having gained his main object, might not be able to persuade them to take further risks. I will make it a part of the bargain that they first supply you with plenty of water. Then you, unaided, could keep them at bay for many days. We lose nothing; we can gain a great deal by endeavoring to pacify them."
"Iris!" he gasped, "what are you saying?"
The unexpected sound of her name on his lips almost unnerved her. But no martyr ever went to the stake with more settled purpose than this pure woman, resolved to immolate herself for the sake of the man she loved. He had dared all for her, faced death in many shapes. Now it was her turn. Her eyes were lit with a seraphic fire, her sweet face resigned as that of an angel.
"I have thought it out," she murmured, gazing at him steadily, yet scarce seeing him. "It is worth trying as a last expedient. We are abandoned by all, save the Lord; and it does not appear to be His holy will to help us on earth. We can struggle on here until we die. Is that right, when one of us may live?"
Her very candor had betrayed her. She would go away with these monstrous captors, endure them, even flatter them, until she and they were far removed from the island. And then--she would kill herself. In her innocence she imagined that self-destruction, under such circ.u.mstances, was a pardonable offence. She only gave a life to save a life, and greater love than this is not known to G.o.d or man.
The sailor, in a tempest of wrath and wild emotion, had it in his mind to compel her into reason, to shake her, as one shakes a wayward child.
He rose to his knees with this half-formed notion in his fevered brain.
Then he looked at her, and a mist seemed to shut her out from his sight. Was she lost to him already? Was all that had gone before an idle dream of joy and grief, a wizard"s glimpse of mirrored happiness and vague perils? Was Iris, the crystal-souled--thrown to him by the storm-lashed waves--to be s.n.a.t.c.hed away by some irresistible and malign influence?
In the mere physical effort to a.s.sure himself that she was still near to him he gathered her up in his strong hands. Yes, she was there, breathing, wondering, palpitating. He folded her closely to his breast, and, yielding to the pa.s.sionate longings of his tired heart, whispered to her--
"My darling, do you think I can survive your loss? You are life itself to me. If we have to die, sweet one, let us die together."
Then Iris flung her arms around his neck.
"I am quite, quite happy now," she sobbed brokenly. "I didn"t--imagine--it would come--this way, but--I am thankful--it has come."
[Ill.u.s.tration: LOVE, TREMENDOUS IN ITS POWER, UNFATHOMABLE IN ITS MYSTERY, HAD CAST ITS SPELL OVER THEM.]
For a little while they yielded to the glamour of the divine knowledge that amidst the chaos of eternity each soul had found its mate. There was no need for words. Love, tremendous in its power, unfathomable in its mystery, had cast its spell over them. They were garbed in light, throned in a palace built by fairy hands. On all sides squatted the ghouls of privation, misery, danger, even grim death; but they heeded not the Inferno; they had created a Paradise in an earthly h.e.l.l.
Then Iris withdrew herself from the man"s embrace. She was delightfully shy and timid now.
"So you really do love me?" she whispered, crimson-faced, with shining eyes and parted lips.
He drew her to him again and kissed her tenderly. For he had cast all doubt to the winds. No matter what the future had in store she was his, his only; it was not in man"s power to part them. A glorious effulgence dazzled his brain. Her love had given him the strength of Goliath, the confidence of David. He would pluck her from the perils that environed her. The Dyak was not yet born who should rend her from him.
He fondled her hair and gently rubbed her cheek with his rough fingers.
The sudden sense of ownership of this fair woman was entrancing. It almost bewildered him to find Iris nestling close, clinging to him in utter confidence and trust.
"But I knew, I knew," she murmured. "You betrayed yourself so many times. You wrote your secret to me, and, though you did not tell me, I found your dear words on the sands, and have treasured them next my heart."
What girlish romance was this? He held her away gingerly, just so far that he could look into her eyes.
"Oh, it is true, quite true," she cried, drawing the locket from her neck. "Don"t you recognize your own handwriting, or were you not certain, just then, that you really did love me?"
Dear, dear! How often would she repeat that wondrous phrase! Together they bent over the tiny slips of paper. There it was again--"I love you"--twice blazoned in magic symbols. With blushing eagerness she told him how, by mere accident of course, she caught sight of her own name.
It was not very wrong, was it, to pick up that tiny sc.r.a.p, or those others, which she could not help seeing, and which unfolded their simple tale so truthfully? Wrong! It was so delightfully right that he must kiss her again to emphasize his convictions.
All this fondling and love-making had, of course, an air of grotesque absurdity because indulged in by two grimy and tattered individuals crouching beneath a tarpaulin on a rocky ledge, and surrounded by bloodthirsty savages intent on their destruction. Such incidents require the setting of convention, the conservatory, with its wealth of flowers and plants, a summer wood, a Chippendale drawing-room. And yet, G.o.d wot, men and women have loved each other in this grey old world without stopping to consider the appropriateness of place and season.
After a delicious pause Iris began again----
"Robert--I must call you Robert now--there, there, please let me get a word in even edgeways--well then, Robert dear, I do not care much what happens now. I suppose it was very wicked and foolish of me to speak as I did before--before you called me Iris. Now tell me at once. Why did you call me Iris?"
"You must propound that riddle to your G.o.dfather."
"No wriggling, please. Why did you do it?"
"Because I could not help myself. It slid out unawares."
"How long have you thought of me only as Iris, your Iris?"
"Ever since I first understood that somewhere in the wide world was a dear woman to love me and be loved."
"But at one time you thought her name was Elizabeth?"
"A delusion, a mirage! That is why those who christened you had the wisdom of the G.o.ds."
Another interlude. They grew calmer, more sedate. It was so undeniably true they loved one another that the fact was becoming venerable with age. Iris was perhaps the first to recognize its quiet certainty.
"As I cannot get you to talk reasonably," she protested, "I must appeal to your sympathy. I am hungry, and oh, so thirsty."
The girl had hardly eaten a morsel for her midday meal. Then she was despondent, utterly broken-hearted. Now she was filled with new hope.
There was a fresh motive in existence. Whether destined to live an hour or half a century, she would never, never leave him, nor, of course, could he ever, ever leave her. Some things were quite impossible--for example, that they should part.
Jenks brought her a biscuit, a tin of meat, and that most doleful cup of champagne.