Beyond the Rim/Chapter 19

HEN he opened his eyes again it was to find Leila bending over him, his head raised in her arms, the pungent smell of brandy assailing his nostrils. He suffered a few burning drops to pass between his lips and swallowed them with difficulty.

It was cool and dark with a light shining somewhere on Leila's face. As she raised his head on her arm and begged him to drink again, he saw bright specks against a field of ebony and realized they were stars. The sting of the brandy in his throat reached his stomach and a delicious warmth spread through him.

“Where am I?” he asked, knowing it was his own voice that spoke, but not recognizing its feeble, faraway tone.

“Thank God,” she said, and something warm fell on his upturned face, followed by another drop—Leila's tears.

“Don't cry,” he muttered. “I'm all right.” The shrill clarion of the alarm-clock sounded. “It's my watch,” he said. “I must get up, Leila. They may be coming any minute now.”

He took the cup from her in trembling hands and drained it, memory and strength returning.

“Have they gone?” he asked, sitting up with a violent effort. “Get me a rifle.”

“Oh, lie down,” she said. “Lie down and rest. They've gone. Everything's all right now—now you've come back again.”

Her voice quavered and dissolved in tears. He slipped a feeble arm about her.

“Come, Leila, dearest girl,” he said. “I'm not hurt. See! Don't cry! Don't cry. I'm fine—just a bit wobbly.” He forced a laugh. “Have they really gone? What's happened?”

She got to her knees beside him.

“You must rest,” she said. “Wait.”

She brought a roll of something soft and placed it under his head.

“It's rotten to be a girl,” she said. “To cry like a fool.”

“I'm glad you are,” he whispered.

She set a cool palm on his lips and he kissed it. She withdrew it, not very quickly.

“You mustn't talk,” she said. “I'm going to get you some soup.”

But her face glowed as though the lantern-light had been suddenly quadrupled.

“Did they get the pearls?” he asked.

“Yes. Hush!”

She was back in a moment, blowing on a cup of soup, tasting it with puckered lips to test the heat while he lay quiescent, looking at her contentedly. The pearls were gone! In spite of everything, the loss soothed him and brought new vigor to his veins. The barrier was down! Then came the revulsion.

“It was my fault,” he said.

“It was not,” she protested fiercely. “Tuan Yuck threw down a rock from the cliff. It struck you as you stooped for a rifle. But you must not talk. Take this.”

He suffered himself to be fed, spoonful by spoonful, satisfied to have her minister to him. When the cup was ended, he sat up despite her remonstrance.

“I'm fine now,” he said. “I'll take some more of that if you have any. My shoulders and neck are stiff, but there's a whole lot of life in me yet.”

“Don't sit up, please,” she said, slipping her arm about him. “Oh, are you sure you are strong enough? Here's some more broth.”

He watched her as she flitted out of the cave and back again.

“Now then,” he said, as he finished the second cup, “tell me.”

There were hollows under her eyes; he saw faint shadows of them in her cheeks.

“Tell me,” he repeated. “Are you sure they're gone?”

“Sure,” she answered. “In the schooner. I saw it sailing away.”

“They've gone!”

He sat up of his own accord, invigorated at the news.

She brought a box and set it back of him, wadding it with the improvised pillow.

“You drink some of that soup,” he ordered; “with some brandy in it. Now!”

She smiled at the assertion in his tone.

“Aye, aye, sir,” she answered.

“When the rock hit you,” she said presently, “I forgot Sayers and ran toward you. He—Sayers—jumped over the rock and rushed at me. I dodged, thinking perhaps I could get at the rifle, but I was half stupid, thinking you were dead, and he cut me off. His face was horrible. I ran the only way I could, toward the beach, with him after me. If you're going to grit your teeth and get excited,” she interrupted herself, “I'll stop talking.”

Chalmers relaxed and reached out his hand to grasp hers as she extended it.

“I don't remember what he said,” she went on, and Chalmers, seeing by her averted eyes that she lied, reregistered the vow he had already sworn; “but he caught up with me at the water's edge and spun me around with his hand on my shoulder. He put his arms about me and lifted me. I beat at his face and scratched it, but he laughed and crushed me against him. Then I bit him—ugh!” she brushed her free hand across her lips. “He swore at me and started to carry me out into the water. The boat with the natives in it was coming toward us.

“Some one shouted from the cliff—Tuan Yuck. I couldn't hear what he said, but Sayers stopped and turned round. Then Tuan Yuck called again—something about 'leave the girl.' Sayers shouted back. His face was bloody where I had scored it and all asnarl with rage. He swore at Tuan Yuck, and the Chinaman stood up on the edge of the cliff pointing one arm at us, and his voice sounded like a trumpet.”

“I wonder why he interfered?” said Chalmers. “What did he say the last time?”

“It wasn't complimentary.” Leila smiled at Chalmers, who sat with both fists clenched, the bone of his jaw showing white through the flesh. “But it saved me, or what followed did, though I don't know why he did it. Sayers hesitated for a moment, and a shot plunged into the water beside us. Tuan Yuck stood with his rifle to his shoulder. Sayers cursed again and tore the ribbon from my throat. I hit up at him, and he struck at me”

“ him!” said Chalmers. “When I catch up with him I'll kill him with my bare hands.”

Leila looked at him with a little thrill of primeval ecstasy. Here was a man who had fought for her, who would kill for her. An ancient strain of savagery surged up within her, the glory of the pristine woman for the protecting male. Then civilization conquered.

“I hope we never see him again,” she said with a shudder. “That was all I knew,” she went on presently, “till I came to, outside the caves with you by me. The pearls were gone.”

It was Chalmers's turn to tell what he knew. He made short work of it.

“And then?” he asked.

“I tried to revive you, but I couldn't. And I was afraid. I was afraid you were going to die. I didn't know how badly you were hurt. I was afraid they would come back. I went to the fall for fresh water after a while, and I saw the schooner standing out to sea, close to the reef, with the natives hauling on the foresail.

“I fell on my knees and thanked God for our deliverance and—” she lowered her voice to a tremulous whisper, dulcet to his ears with its tenderness—“I prayed you might be spared. When I came back you moaned, and presently you went to sleep. Then I knew my prayer was answered.”

Chalmers's eyes softened. His hand sought hers. “God bless you, dear,” he said.

They sat for a little while in silence.

“Last night,” she said after a pause, “I was most afraid of all. There was a terrible earthquake. It kept on, shock after shock, for a long time. The clock stopped. I was afraid the cave would fall in on us. And when it was light, this morning, I saw that part of the big cape—not the one we watched from—had fallen into the sea. And there's a big split in the cliff behind us. The waterfall has almost stopped flowing and I believe the whole island has sunk. The waves came almost up to my rock chambers at high tide and the pool you found for me is full right to the brim.”

“A tidal wave,” said Chalmers.

“I looked at the pool again this afternoon when you were quietly asleep, and it hadn't gone down.”

“Poor Leila! You must have been terribly afraid.”

“I was,” she smiled rather wanly. “But I'm not now. Only it's so terribly hot I'm afraid it isn't all over.”

Chalmers pressed her hand.

“It is hot,” he said. “But I'm feverish. You must be, too. What time is it?”

She looked at the clock.

“Half-past three,” she announced. “It will soon be morning.”

“Why did you set the alarm?”

“I was so sleepy,” she confessed shamefacedly, “and I wanted to wake every little while, so I set it.”

She swayed wearily and he put his sound arm about her.

“You darling!” he whispered.

She murmured something in return and put up her head to his. Her mouth drooped pitifully, appealingly. Her eyes were wistful, her glance seemed to melt into his, and their lips met.

With a little sigh of absolute comfort she nestled close to him and closed her eyes. He held her tightly, with a savage desire to shield her from all perils, and in a little while her soft breathing told him she was asleep.

Chalmers gradually shifted his position and presently she lay with her body relaxed, her head on his breast, content to know that he had taken up once more the rôle of protector.

He felt ineffably tender to her, weary as he was. The moments passed, marked by the comfortable ticking of the clock, and soon he himself was asleep beside her. In his dreams, made more real by her presence, he passed with her—always with her—far beyond the rim of ordinary things into a fairyland of perpetual youth and happiness.

It was dark when he opened his eyes again. The air was oppressive on his lungs. The dream had turned to a nightmare of them alone on a turbulent ocean, tossed by the waves.

The nightmare was a reality. The solid earth rocked beneath them. Leila was wide awake, clinging to him in terror. He sat up in the blackness and his hand struck the upset lantern. The glass burnt him. It had only just gone out. Leila's arms were about him.

“An earthquake,” she gasped. “I can't breathe. I'm stifling.”

“Matches?” he asked.

“By the lantern.”

His groping hand found the box. He struck a match that seemed to burn dimly, and relit the lantern. The clock was still going. It was six o'clock—daylight.

Filled with swift dread he arose and held the light above his head. The front of the cave was filled with débris. The cliff had fallen in upon them and blocked their exit. Another tremor threw him headlong, close to where Leila crouched in terror, crying:

“Bruce! Bruce! Where are you? I am so afraid!”