The Unknown Sea Part 19

'Agreed,' he said first; and then, 'You think that likely?'

'A venture is a venture; and, well, I may say that two ventures have miscarried, so many and brisk are the chasers; and I know of some who have fought shy of this one. I volunteered,' he said with pride.

So they went their ways, Philip bidding his conscience lie still and mute, Christian questioning his.

Save Giles, never had any man put out in that boat with the Alien. As the two slid out under early night, Philip looked at him, wondering if his wits were sound enough to tell him this, himself misliking the instance overmuch now. The sea was black and sullen, and the wind chill; Christian, silent and indifferent, was no heartening mate; and the shadow of night brought out a lurid streak in the venture that viewed under daylight had been but dull and faint.

The stealthy boat crept on till midnight; now and then from the cusp of a bay floated out the faint cry of a quail. Then thrice it sounded, when the boat swooped in, touched, and with a third aboard, sprang away swift as a fishing gull.

About to the west, then, Christian steered as Philip gave word; still west and west. He did not scan the stranger with natural interest, nor had he yet asked one question on their goings, though they were stretching for a coast known to him by fatal influence. When the very roar of evil waters sounded, and through it the first expostulation of a buoy bell, Philip's scrutiny could still detect no reluctance.

Oh! fain now would he see a touch of human infirmity for fellowship; night had entered his blood, and shocks of horrid fear coursed; too stark and dreadfully mute was the figure at the helm for him to be void of apprehension. And the terrors of the sinister place, that his venture was to set at nought, according to a daylight mind, came beating in against unstable defences, entered, and took possession.

Christian stooped over the gunwale, peering into the dark water. At that, Philip's hand went searching hurriedly about the bow, and that he sought was missing. He braced himself and approached the Alien.

'Christian, has she never a twig of rowan at her bows?'

The face that turned he could not see to read. 'No,' was the curt answer, and shaken through, he drew off with doubled thumbs.

Too late now he doubted Christian to be no tool for handling with impunity. And worse he dreaded, out of a dark teeming with possibilities, dreadful to human flesh and human spirit. His hair rose, and he flung prayers to the hierarchy of heaven, but chiefly to those three--St. Mary, St. Margaret, and St. Faith. Comfort it was to draw to the side of one who abode, as he himself, within the limits of the five human senses. The quiet voice of the Adventurer rallied him.

'What goes wrong?'

'We bear no rowan, nor leaf, nor berry.'

'Rowan! for protection against evil spirits?'

'Ah! name them not. Not here and now. Rather turn your thumbs against them, and watch him.'

'Him! your chosen mate?'

'G.o.d forgive me, and help us--yes. Sir, I tell you, laughter here is more than folly--it is wickedness. No, I will not be questioned how and why. There--look there!'

He grasped the sceptic's arm and pointed; Christian again had suddenly leaned down to peer over the boat's side.

'What does he see?'

Philip's teeth chattered. 'G.o.d knows, I dare not think.'

He crowded sail recklessly, and the boat leapt along, quivering like a thing in fear. At speed they fled on further west, till the Sinister buoys were all pa.s.sed by, and the Land's End drew up and turned behind them. Then Philip, with a heart lighter by some degrees, hove to, close furled, to wait and watch through the chill, long hours, till nearing dawn turned them back to the safe desolation of the evil place.

Daylight better than dark speech declared the three to each other. The Adventurer considered well the men charged with his life and fortunes. Of a splendid make they were, both above the common in stature and strength, and well favoured in singular contrast. A practised student of his kind could read lines of weakness, and some feminine virtues also, in the dark, oval face with luminous, fine eyes, and a mouth too fully perfect for a man, and could read on the face from the resolute north a square threat of obstinacy showing from the bones out, and daring and truth in the grey eyes, deep set, and from brow to chin every imprint of integrity. Both faces were set and haggard, and their eyes encountered with a sombre disaffection that augured but ill for success. Strife was latent.

Christian's glance rested on the Adventurer, unhooded to the morning light, and he guessed him, and knew him by silver mane and black brows an old lion-lord of a famous herd. The ray of recognition was caught and weighed. 'He has not been trusted, yet his looks are fit,' ran the old man's thoughts. He weighed Philip, whose features twitched, whose hands were nervous, who eyed his fellow with an uncertain glance, wavering at a return impa.s.sive as stone. Without hesitation he questioned for clearance.

'Is all well--so far?'

'Ay--so far?'

'At your discretion I would hear how our chances lie, and on what side peril. To a landsman we carry on in an aimless fashion.'

Philip looked at him straight enough, then furtively towards Christian.

The stranger dropped his voice.

'Is danger yonder?'

Philip did not answer him, and strengthened in mis...o...b.., he spoke with a note of authority.

'I would know your plans.'

'You shall,' said Philip, but still he looked at Christian, and found it hard to begin. He took heart of wine.

'Hearken--you also, Christian.

'Sir, my undertaking is to put you aboard a foreigner, due to pa.s.s with her consorts off the Land's End, may be this day, or to-morrow at latest, whose part is but to contrive so that darkness may cover this bit of contraband trade.

'Your flight discovered will for sure have brought an embargo on all the coast. Not a sail will be out, but chasers on the watch. Ash.o.r.e now, not a chance were possible; but we took wing betimes; and here may we bide under daylight, and at night make again for the Land's End to watch our chance.'

'Go on. This contrivance is too incredibly bald to suffice. How, then, when presently a patrol sails round yonder head?'

'May Heaven forfend!'

'Heaven! are you mad? Is all our security to be the grant by Heaven of a miracle?'

'First, sir, I will tell you that we are like enough to be unharried; for it cannot be in mortal reckoning that we should dare here, since this place is a death-trap to be given wide berth in winter gales.'

'The very place to seek men fugitive and desperate.'

'By your leave, sir, I came into this venture as a volunteer, and not from desperation.

'The special danger of these coasts you do not know. Our winter storms, sudden and fierce, strike here at their hardest. Learned men say that high ranges leagues off over sea make a funnel to set them here. We fishers have another way of thinking--no matter what. But 'tis wide known that there is no record of any boat caught in a winter burst within sound of these breakers living to boast of it.'

'Is, then, the favour of Heaven also to be engaged to preserve from storm as from chase?'

Philip, tongue and throat, was dry, and he drank again deeply.

'You tell me of risks that I cannot bring myself to believe a volunteer would engage; not though, as I hear, he doubled his price.'

Wine and resentment mounted a flush.

'You do ill, sir, to fleer at a man who for your service risks freedom, life--ay, more than life--but that you would not believe; for you laughed, under night even, you laughed!'

'By heavens! every look of a death-trap comes out on your own showing; and except you show me the key to unlock it, I myself will hazard the forcing; I and your mate yonder, who well I see is not in your confidence, whose face tells that he has no liking for you and your doings.'

Christian turned away and made no response.

'For G.o.d's sake, sir,' whispered Philip then, 'have patience, or you ruin all!'