Beyond the Rim/Chapter 15

HALMERS' protests were unavailing. Leila Denman's arguments were both convincing and numerous.

“I am not going to be left alone on this beach imagining all sorts of dreadful things happening to you,” she said. “If there should, I want to be there. They can't be more dreadful than what would happen to me if you didn't come back. I can swim as well as you can. Wait till you see me. I've got my bathing-suit, and I can really help you.”

“There seems to be a mutiny in full progress,” Chalmers answered, “but I've got to quell it. Some one's got to stay on watch here.”

“Pouf!” She dismissed the reason with a charming moue, like the puff of an imaginary cigarette. “We can watch them ever so much better from the lagoon. You are afraid I'm going to be a hindrance—I'm not. You are going to make a little raft, you said, for the things you are going to bring back?”

“Yes, ammunition, some clothes, my charts, the chronometer, and, if I can get away with it, the schooner's compass.”

“You are going to climb aboard and get them?”

“Naturally.”

“And how are you going to load up your raft without help?”

Chalmers laughed.

“Fairly won,” he said. “It would take me ever so much longer by myself. I'll give in—as long as we know there are no sharks. But you must promise to stay in the water.”

“Aye, aye, sir! The mutineers return to duty,” she said gaily.

“Having achieved their point,” he countered.

He marveled at the buoyancy of her spirit, at the sheer pluck of her. That she was not in the least disillusioned concerning the dangers that hourly surrounded them he was assured. Yet, in the face of them all, in the prospect of being left to the vicious whims of Tuan Yuck and Sayers, should he fail her, she was the gay comrade, the gallant “pal” who insisted upon her full share of the perils.

And she trusted him. The thought was an elixir. To its inspiration the subtle alchemy of his body responded, charging the blood with energies that gave new strength to his muscles, invigorating every nerve and sinew till the whole coordinated like the parts of a perfect machine.

Both were heart free, both ripe for the friendly virus with which Cupid tips his arrows, and that ubiquitous godling chuckled at Chalmers's attempts to regulate his passion as the two built their little raft by the light of their fire, the blazing stars and a sinking moon.

The setting could not have been completer for romance. Each was conscious of the proximity of the other and felt little rippling thrills of delight as they came into casual contact over their work. But to Chalmers, the pearls that nestled in her bosom, gaining fresh luster from the magnetism of her young body, seemed as insuperable a barrier between them as if they had been the actual boulders of an impassable wall.

Without conceit, he recognized that both of them were seeped in an exaltation of spirit that made life seem very sweet and free from care, despite their dangers. He was not blind to the fact that Leila shared the emotions that possessed him as their hands met, or that a certain adorable shyness that was both a lure and a promise shone sometimes in her eyes; but he hugged the thought that he would be dishonorable to take any advantage of a mood that might pass, hugged it as the Spartan boy held the fox that gnawed his breast.

She was an heiress; he had nothing ahead but the earnings of a profession to which he was not accredited by nature. So he controlled himself as best he could and checked the growing impulse to tell her how sweet and brave and altogether desirable she was. Once, when the mischievous wind whipped a perfumed strand of her hair across his face, he deliberately went away from her on the idle pretense of looking for more driftwood, though the raft was then complete, and stood dizzily facing the lagoon to fight it out.

“You came pretty close to being a cad,” he told himself. “Another second and you would have kissed her. A fine protector you are for a lonely girl.”

A tiny voice—it was Cupid's—whispered, “She would not have minded.” And he thrust it from him as unworthy. Whereat Cupid, counting his remaining arrows, laughed, knowing well the power of that beneficent venom on their tips, composed of elements allied to hope and youth and health that would crystallize to happiness.

Leila recognized his restraint, guessed partly at its reasons, admired it and was piqued at it at the same moment. At times she devoutly wished the pearls were still at the bottom of the sea, though her father's spirit, strong within her, fiercely resented the giving of them up to their would-be possessors, and, womanlike, she loved them as gems and for what they would bring, and could not see why such a dower should make her less desirable.

So Cupid, well satisfied, left them there beneath the stars, and winged his way to other targets.

IT was close to midnight before their task was ended and the little float of driftwood and boughs, compactly lashed together, carried to the water's edge ready for launching. The rays of Sayers' fire flickered beyond the cape and the sound of ribald voices came to them now and then in the quiet night. The scattered rocks at the foot of the headland were clear and the ebb was nearly at its limit.

“We'll pile it up with seaweed,” said Chalmers, “and let it drift down on the current. It runs nearly as fast as we can swim. All we have to do is to guide it. We'll keep low in the water, and if any one should be on the lookout they'll take it for a loose mass of weed. It's about time to start.”

“I'll be ready in five minutes,” said Leila, disappearing into her cave with one of the lanterns they had brought from the clearing.

Chalmers took off his shoes and with his case-knife hacked off the legs of his grimy trousers well above the knee for freedom in swimming, promising himself a new outfit from the schooner. Tuan Yuck by this time would be well under the influence of opium, he imagined, and there would be little trouble or danger about securing what he wanted. He discarded his shirt, tightened his belt and stood up stalwart and ready for action.

While he waited he examined the clip of cartridges in the automatic handle, re-greased the weapons and the blade of the knife and replaced the latter in his belt. The pistol was on a lanyard ready to put round his neck at the end of the swim. For the trip it would ride on the raft.

Leila came to her cave-mouth, trim in her bathing-suit, and looked at him admiringly as he stood by the light of their fire, gazing seaward. He looked very capable, very handsome, in a manly way, she thought.

“I'm ready,” she said.

He looked at her approvingly.

“I'd slip off that skirt when we get into deep water,” he suggested.

“I will,” she answered. “I'm not going to be handicapped.”

They waded quietly into the water, impressed with the necessity for caution, and pushed the raft before them into the swing of the current. Seaweed was piled upon it, trailing in the water. The moon had sunk, the dim mass of the platform was hardly distinguishable as it floated down the star-sown lagoon toward the cape.

They made as little motion as possible, fearing the phosphorescence they disturbed might betray them by its regular flashes. Leila slipped off her skirt and they swam in water that was as warm as midday and luminously alive. Green fire swirled from them as they paddled easily along, their hands resting on the raft. Bubbles and streaks of liquid flame the color of burning alcohol broke along the sides and in the wake of the float.

The blaze where Sayers and the two natives caroused burned brightly. The three still chanted in snatches, and boisterous laughter punctuated the songs. The voices were obviously those of drunken men whose debauch was soon likely to end in heavy sleep. Reefward, the masts of the schooner showed faintly against the sky. As they drew near to the hull they looked in vain for a light in Tuan Yuck's cabin. Everything seemed set for the success of their undertaking.

Chalmers guided the raft to the bows and, clinging to the bowsprit stays with one hand, fastened the raft by a line already attached to it.

“Hang on here,” he whispered. “I'll lower the things down to you. I'll be as quick as I can.”

“All right,” she answered softly, and he deftly swung himself up and clambered over the bowsprit.

The tide was on the turn and Leila prepared to keep the raft from bumping at the schooner's side. Presently the influence of the flood swung it clear as the schooner slowly responded to the shifting current. She let go of the stays, resting her folded arms on the raft, her body in the warm water, and waited for Chalmers' reappearance. Farther aft, the open porthole of Tuan Yuck's cabin remained dark, like the socket of a blind eye.

On deck, Chalmers, treading lightly as a cat, stepped to the open companionway and stealthily descended into the cabin. He had no light, but he knew the familiar position of everything, and there had been no changes. He listened at the door of Tuan Yuck's cabin. Inside, he could hear the Chinaman breathing heavily. The door was light proof.

He tiptoed into his own cabin and found an electric torch, safe where he had left it. He touched the contacts and the ray shone out brightly.