The Deaves Affair Part 43

"It can be done. Just before the fog came down on us I marked that Atlantic Highlands was due south of us, and not above a mile distant.

The wind has just come in from the east, and she'll hold there a while.

By keeping the wind abeam on the port side you'd hit the sh.o.r.e somewhere near the pier."

"Well, I'll try it."

"No; you're our only qualified seaman. You must stand by the vessel.

I'll go."

"How will you get back?"

"I'll borrow or beg a compa.s.s ash.o.r.e. You keep the whistle going, and if the steam gives out, ring your bell."

"I doubt if you'll get the deckhands to bring you back. They'll go quick enough."

"I'll get boatmen from the sh.o.r.e if they desert."

The deckhands were brought up through the forward hatch, and one of the _Ernestina's_ boats was lowered away. As Evan stepped in he said:

"Don't tell them below that I've gone ash.o.r.e unless you have to."

It was a ghostly trip. At a hundred yards' distance the _Ernestina_ was swallowed up entire in the fog, and thereafter they proceeded blindly in a grey void. Only a little circle of leaden water was visible around them, which travelled with them as they went. At minute intervals the sound of her whistle reached them, but it was only confusing for it seemed to come now from this side, now from that. Fog plays strange tricks with acoustics. Evan steered, keeping the wake of his boat straight and the wind in his left ear.

Finally to his relief the shapes of trees swam out ahead, and he had the comfortable sensation of touching reality again. It is a thickly settled sh.o.r.e, and he was quickly directed to the pier and the village.

Here Evan's story quickly won him help from the water-farers. To be sure, two of his men incontinently walked off, but a dozen volunteers offered to replace them. After patient telephoning he succeeded in getting the promise of a tug from Perth Amboy, and stopping only to buy out the greater part of a grocer's stock, he started back.

Within an hour of leaving the _Ernestina_ he was back on board. The mate and Tenterden were still on deck. For a single moment the latter looked at Evan with friendly eyes. No vessel had come within hail, they reported.

Evan hastened down to the saloon. Corinna and her aides had the children pretty well in hand--but a cry of welcome went up at the sight of Evan. Somehow the smallest toddler on board had gathered that Evan was the man of the hour.

"A tug will be along in half an hour to pick us up," Evan announced.

Cheers from the crowd.

"Why, how do you know that?" Corinna demanded of him privately.

"Oh, I just stepped ash.o.r.e to telephone," said Evan airily.

Corinna sat down suddenly. "You went ash.o.r.e, and left us!"

Within the promised time they heard a deep-toned whistle searching for them in the fog.

"Wh-e-e-re?"

To which the _Ernestina_ agitatedly responded: "Here! Here! Here!

Here! Here!"

This duet was carried on for upwards of ten minutes. The tug appeared to be travelling around them in a circle. It was like a game of Blind Man's Buff with both sides blinded. All of a sudden she came charging out of the fog, as if a magician had evoked her. The children swarmed out on the deck with cheers. Their elders let themselves relax with thankful hearts. A furtive tear or two stole down Corinna's cheeks.

Ropes were pa.s.sed to and fro, and with the tug alongside, the slow homeward journey began.

As soon as all danger was over Evan received another lesson in the curious workings of human nature. Once more the brotherhood drew away from Evan as if the latter had the plague. Evan had them in an uncomfortable hole now, for all were conscious of being under an obligation to him. That only made matters worse, for when a person is resolved to hate you, to put him under an obligation only obliges him to be more hateful. As for Corinna, she retired into herself and was inscrutable.

It was a weary journey. The supper, materials for which Evan had brought from sh.o.r.e, created a welcome diversion; but supper over, they were still miles from home, and the helpers were hard put to it to keep the small pa.s.sengers even moderately contented. Fortunately during the last hour the greater part fell asleep where they were, on the sofas, on the floor, on a couple of camp-stools placed together.

Evan and Corinna happened to meet beside one child draped over the arm of a chair in an excruciating att.i.tude. They straightened her out together. Corinna did not look at Evan nor speak, but from her to him he thought he felt a warm current pa.s.s--or perhaps it was only because he wished to believe it. None of the other helpers were near. The child was sleeping soundly.

"Corinna, I love you," whispered Evan.

"_Please!_" she murmured distressfully. "You make it so hard for me!"

He would not remind her of what he had done for her, but he felt that it would be only decent of her to show some recognition of it. "Is nothing changed?" he asked.

"Nothing can be changed."

"After all we've been through?"

"I'm deeply grateful to you, but I suppose that's another story, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well--would you be satisfied with my grat.i.tude?"

"No!" he said promptly.

"It's all I can give you."

"Corinna, you drive me mad!"

"Ah, don't begin that again. Think of my position. Be generous!"

"You're always appealing to my better feelings," he grumbled. "I tell you, they won't stand the strain."

So absorbed were they in this little exchange that they did not hear footsteps approaching down the carpeted saloon. Looking up, they beheld Dordess approaching with the whole brotherhood at his heels: Anway, Tenterden, Domville, Burgess, and the blonde youth whose name Evan never knew.

Corinna flushed up at the sight of them, but it was impossible to say for sure what her feelings were--mixed, probably. She looked guilty at being surprised in talk with Evan, and she was certainly angry; angry at the men, or angry at herself for betraying the blush. Evan, on the alert for trouble, smiled grimly.

Dordess was no less cynical and bland than usual, but he could not conceal the angry glitter in his eye. As for the others, they betrayed their feelings more or less according to their natures; Anway was hard and composed; Tenterden vicious and truculent; little Domville apologetic and reproachful, and the other two, youths of no particular character, merely self-conscious and inclined to bl.u.s.ter.

"May we have a few words with you?" said Dordess to Corinna.

"Certainly," she said stiffly. "What's the matter?"

"I speak for all of us," said Dordess, "to save time. We wish to convey to Mr. Weir our appreciation of the fine way he acted at the time of the accident."

Evan was not deceived by these honeyed words. He saw that there was more to follow. He spoke up. "Not at all. Every one of us did his darnedest, I'm sure."

Dordess went on: "We willingly grant that he's a fine fellow.

Unfortunately we don't like him any better than we did before. And his fine conduct does not make it any more possible for us to work with him in future."