The Trey o' Hearts/Chapter 17
CHAPTER XVII
The Masked Voice
THE leaden fog wrapped the world in an embrace as inexorable as the coils of some great, gray, slimy serpent. Through its sluggish folds the life-boat crept at snail's pace. In the bow, Rose rested in exhaustion, her eyes closed, her head pillowed on a life preserver, her sodden garments modelled closely to the slender body that ever and again was shaken by a long, shuddering respiration.
Seated on the nearest thwart, Alan watched over her with a grimly hopeless solicitude. Premonition of misfortune darkened his heart with an impenetrable shadow. In the stern, Tom Barcus presided morosely over the steering gear.
Thus for hours on end it had been with these three: ever the boat ploughed steadily onward. Destitute of compass and of all notion of the sun's bearings, Barcus steered mainly through force of habit—the salt-water man's instinctive feeling that no boat under way should ever in any conceivable circumstance lack a hand at the helm.
For some time subsequent to the collision fog-signals sounding now near, now far, in the encompassing obscurity had fostered hope; but now for more than an hour the silence had been uncannily constant, broken only by the rumble of the motor, the lisp of water slipping down the slide, the suck and gurgle of the wake.
Forebodings no less portentous than Law's crawled in the mind of Barcus. It was as likely as not that the lifeboat was travelling straight out to sea. And gasoline tanks can and oftentimes do become—empty. Moreover, Barcus was a confirmed skeptic in regard to the reliability of marine motors. In view of all which considerations he presently opened the battery switch. The cessation of that uniform drone was startling enough to rouse Rose Trine from her state of semi-somnolence. With a look of panic she sat up, thrust damp hair back from her eyes, and nervously inquired:
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing," Barcus replied: "I shut the engine off—that's all." Then, uninterrupted, the stillness strangled their spirits in its ruthless grasp, until of a sudden a cry shrilled through the fog, so near at hand that it seemed scarcely more distant than over the side:
"Ahoy! Help! Ahoy there! Help!"
So urgent was its accent that it brought the three as one to their feet, all a-tremble, eyes seeking one another's faces, then shifting uneasily away.
"What can it be?" Rose whispered, aghast, shrinking into Alan's ready arm.
"Some other unfortunate," Alan replied, obviously with an effort. For his flesh crawled with superstitious dread. He knew that voice; it was the voice of one whom he had believed dead, drowned fathoms deep, miles from that spot.
"Judith!" the girl moaned.
"Impossible!" Alan contended. "I saw her go down. …
"That doesn't prove she didn't come up," Barcus broke in acidly.
"Ahoy! Motorboat aho-o-oy! Help!"
Alan cupped hands to mouth and sent an answer ringing through the murk.
"Ahoy! Where are you? Where away?"
"Here—on the reef—half drowned—perishing with cold"
"How does my voice bear?" Alan called back.
"What the dickens do you care?" Barcus interpolated suspiciously.
"To port," came the response. "Starboard your helm and come in slowly!"
"Right O! Half a minute!" Alan replied assuringly.
"Like hell!" Barcus muttered in his throat as he bent over the flywheel.
Jumping on the forward thwart and balancing himself perilously near the gunwale, Alan peered into the fog.
"Can't make out anything," he grumbled. "Start her up—but 'ware reef!"
"Nothing doing," Barcus retorted curtly. "The motto is now, 'Full speed astern!'"
"Oh, come! We can't leave a woman—in a fix like that!"
"Can't we? You watch!" Barcus grunted, rocking the flywheel with all his might; for the motor had turned suddenly stubborn.
"Alan!" Rose pleaded, "think what it means. I know it sounds heartless of me—my own sister—but you know how mad she is—wild with hatred and jealousy. If you take Judith into this boat, it's your life or hers!"
"If we leave her out there," Alan retorted, "it's her life on our heads!"
At this juncture the motor took charge of the argument and settled it in summary fashion. With a smart explosion it started up unexpectedly in reverse, at one and the same time precipitating Alan overboard and almost dislocating the arm of Mr. Barcus. Alan struggled to the surface just in time to see the bows of the lifeboat back away and vanish into the mist.