The Wings of the Morning

by Louis Tracy

  CHAPTER XV

  THE DIFFICULTY OF PLEASING EVERYBODY

  The drifting smoke was still so dense that not even the floor of thevalley could be discerned. Jenks dared not leave Iris at such a moment.He feared to bring her down the ladder lest another shell might befired. But something must be done to end their suspense.

  He called to Mir Jan--

  "Take off your turban and hold it above your head, if you think theycan see you from the warship."

  "It is all right, sahib," came the cheering answer. "One boat is closeinshore. I think, from the uniforms, they are English sahibs, such as Ihave seen at Garden Reach. The Dyaks have all gone."

  Nevertheless Jenks waited. There was nothing to gain by being tooprecipitate. A false step now might undo the achievements of manyweeks.

  Mir Jan was dancing about beneath in a state of wild excitement.

  "They have seen the Dyaks running to their sampans, sahib," he yelled,"and the second boat is being pulled in that direction. Yet another hasjust left the ship."

  A translation made Iris excited, eager to go down and see thesewonders.

  "Better wait here, dearest," he said. "The enemy may be driven back inthis direction, and I cannot expose you to further risk. The sailorswill soon land, and you can then descend in perfect safety."

  The boom of a cannon came from the sea. Instinctively the girl duckedfor safety, though her companion smiled at her fears, for the shellwould have long preceded the report, had it traveled their way.

  "One of the remaining sampans has got under way," he explained, "andthe warship is firing at her."

  Two more guns were fired. The man-o'-war evidently meant business.

  "Poor wretches!" murmured Iris. "Cannot the survivors be allowed toescape?"

  "Well, we are unable to interfere. Those caught on the island willprobably be taken to the mainland and hanged for their crimes, so themanner of their end is not of much consequence."

  To the girl's manifest relief there was no more firing, and Mir Janannounced that a number of sailors were actually on shore. Then herthoughts turned to a matter of concern to the feminine mind even in thegravest moments of existence. She laved her face with water and soughther discarded skirt!

  Soon the steady tramp of boot-clad feet advancing at the double washeard on the shingle, and an officer's voice, speaking the crudeHindustani of the engine-room and forecastle, shouted to Mir Jan--

  "Hi, you black fellow! Are there any white people here?"

  Jenks sang out--

  "Yes, two of us! Perched on the rock over your heads. We are comingdown."

  He cast loose the rope-ladder. Iris was limp and trembling.

  "Steady, sweetheart," he whispered. "Don't forget the slip between thecup and the lip. Hold tight! But have no fear! I will be just beneath."

  It was well he took this precaution. She was now so unnerved that anunguarded movement might have led to an accident. But the knowledgethat her lover was near, the touch of his hand guiding her feet on tothe rungs of the ladder, sustained her. They had almost reached thelevel when a loud exclamation and the crash of a heavy blow causedJenks to halt and look downwards.

  A Dyak, lying at the foot of one of the scaling ladders, and severelywounded by a shell splinter, witnessed their descent. In his left handhe grasped a parang; his right arm was bandaged. Though unable to rise,the vengeful pirate mustered his remaining strength to crawl towardsthe swaying ladder. It was Taung S'Ali, inspired with the hate andvenom of the dying snake. Even yet he hoped to deal a mortal stroke atthe man who had defied him and all his cut-throat band. He might havesucceeded, as Jenks was so taken up with Iris, were it not for thewatchful eyes of Mir Jan. The Mahommedan sprang at him with an oath,and gave him such a murderous whack with the butt of a rifle that theDyak chief collapsed and breathed out his fierce spirit in a groan.

  At the first glance Jenks did not recognize Taung S'Ali, owing to hischange of costume. Through the thinner smoke he could see severalsailors running up.

  "Look out, there!" he cried. "There is a lady here. If any Dyak moves,knock him on the head!"

  But, with the passing of the chief, their last peril had gone. The nextinstant they were standing on the firm ground, and a British navallieutenant was saying eagerly--

  "We seem to have turned up in the nick of time. Do you, by any chance,belong to the _Sirdar_?"

  "We are the sole survivors," answered the sailor.

  "You two only?"

  "Yes. She struck on the north-west reef of this island during atyphoon. This lady, Miss Iris Deane, and I were flung ashore--"

  "Miss Deane! Can it be possible? Let me congratulate you most heartily.Sir Arthur Deane is on board the _Orient_ at this moment."

  "The _Orient_!"

  Iris was dazed. The uniforms, the pleasant faces of the Englishsailors, the strange sensation of hearing familiar words in tones otherthan those of the man she loved, bewildered her.

  "Yes," explained the officer, with a sympathetic smile. "That's ourship, you know, in the offing there."

  It was all too wonderful to be quite understood yet. She turned toRobert--

  "Do you hear? They say my father is not far away. Take me to him."

  "WE ARE THE SOLE SURVIVORS," ANSWERED THE SAILOR.]

  "No need for that, miss," interrupted a warrant officer. "Here he iscoming ashore. He wanted to come with us, but the captain would notpermit it, as there seemed to be some trouble ahead."

  Sure enough, even the girl's swimming eyes could distinguish thegrey-bearded civilian seated beside an officer in the stern-sheets of asmall gig now threading a path through the broken reef beyond TurtleBeach. In five minutes, father and daughter would meet.

  Meanwhile the officer, intent on duty, addressed Jenks again.

  "May I ask who you are?"

  "My name is Anstruther--Robert Anstruther."

  Iris, clinging to his arm, heard the reply.

  So he had abandoned all pretence. He was ready to face the world at herside. She stole a loving glance at him as she cried--

  "Yes, Captain Anstruther, of the Indian Staff Corps. If he will nottell you all that he has done, how he has saved my life twenty times,how he has fought single-handed against eighty men, ask me!"

  The naval officer did not need to look a second time at Iris's face tolengthen the list of Captain Anstruther's achievements, by one moreitem. He sighed. A good sailor always does sigh when a particularlypretty girl is labeled "Engaged."

  But he could be very polite.

  "Captain Anstruther does not appear to have left much for us to do,Miss Deane," he said. "Indeed," turning to Robert, "is there any way inwhich my men will be useful?"

  "I would recommend that they drag the green stuff off that fire andstop the smoke. Then, a detachment should go round the north side ofthe island and drive the remaining Dyaks into the hands of the partyyou have landed, as I understand, at the further end of the southbeach. Mir Jan, the Mahommedan here, who has been a most faithful allyduring part of our siege, will act as guide."

  The other man cast a comprehensive glance over the rock, with itsscaling ladders and dangling rope-ladder, the cave, the little groupsof dead or unconscious pirates--for every wounded man who could move alimb had crawled away after the first shell burst--and drew a deepbreath.

  "How long were you up there?" he asked.

  "Over thirty hours."

  "It was a great fight!"

  "Somewhat worse than it looks," said Anstruther. "This is only the endof it. Altogether, we have accounted for nearly two score of the poordevils."

  "Do you think you can make them prisoners, without killing any more ofthem?" asked Iris.

  "That depends entirely on themselves, Miss Deane. My men will not firea shot unless they encounter resistance."

  Robert looked towards the approaching boat. She would not land yet fora couple of minutes.

  "By the way," he said, "will you tell me your name?"

  "Playdon--Lieutenant Philip H.
Playdon."

  "Do you know to what nation this island belongs?"

  "It is no-man's land, I think. It is marked 'uninhabited' on thechart."

  "Then," said Anstruther, "I call upon you, Lieutenant Playdon, and allothers here present, to witness that I, Robert Anstruther, late of theIndian Army, acting on behalf of myself and Miss Iris Deane, declarethat we have taken possession of this island in the name of HisBritannic Majesty the King of England, that we are the joint occupiersand owners thereof, and claim all property rights vested therein."

  These formal phrases, coming at such a moment, amazed his hearers. Irisalone had an inkling of the underlying motive.

  "I don't suppose any one will dispute your title," said the navalofficer gravely. He unquestionably imagined that suffering and exposurehad slightly disturbed the other man's senses, yet he had seldom seenany person who looked to be in more complete possession of hisfaculties.

  "Thank you," replied Robert with equal composure, though he feltinclined to laugh at Playdon's mystification. "I only wished to securea sufficient number of witnesses for a verbal declaration. When I havea few minutes to spare I will affix a legal notice on the wall in frontof our cave."

  Playdon bowed silently. There was something in the speaker's mannerthat puzzled him. He detailed a small guard to accompany Robert andIris, who now walked towards the beach, and asked Mir Jan to pilot himas suggested by Anstruther.

  The boat was yet many yards from shore when Iris ran forward andstretched out her arms to the man who was staring at her with wistfuldespair.

  "Father! Father!" she cried. "Don't you know me?"

  Sir Arthur Deane was looking at the two strange figures on the sands,and each moment his heart sank lower. This island held his final hope.During many weary weeks, since the day when a kindly Admiral placed thecruiser _Orient_ at his disposal, he had scoured the China Sea,the coasts of Borneo and Java, for some tidings of the ill-fated_Sirdar_.

  He met naught save blank nothingness, the silence of the great oceanmausoleum. Not a boat, a spar, a lifebuoy, was cast up by the waves toyield faintest trace of the lost steamer. Every naval man knew what hadhappened. The vessel had met with some mishap to her machinery, strucka derelict, or turned turtle, during that memorable typhoon of March 17and 18. She had gone down with all hands. Her fate was a foregoneconclusion. No ship's boat could live in that sea, even if the crewwere able to launch one. It was another of ocean's tragedies, with thefifth act left to the imagination.

  To examine every sand patch and tree-covered shoal in the China Sea wasan impossible task. All the _Orient_ could do was to visit theprincipal islands and institute inquiries among the fishermen and smalltraders. At last, the previous night, a Malay, tempted by hope ofreward, boarded the vessel when lying at anchor off the large islandaway to the south, and told the captain a wondrous tale of adevil-haunted place inhabited by two white spirits, a male and afemale, whither a local pirate named Taung S'Ali had gone by chancewith his men and suffered great loss. But Taung S'Ali was bewitched bythe female spirit, and had returned there, with a great force, swearingto capture her or perish. The spirits, the Malay said, had dwelt uponthe island for many years. His father and grandfather knew the placeand feared it. Taung S'Ali would never be seen again.

  This queer yarn was the first indication they received of thewhereabouts of any persons who might possibly be shipwrecked Europeans,though not survivors from the _Sirdar_. Anyhow, the tiny dot layin the vessel's northward track, so a course was set to arrive off theisland soon after dawn.

  Events on shore, as seen by the officer on watch, told their own tale.Wherever Dyaks are fighting there is mischief on foot, so the_Orient_ took a hand in the proceedings.

  But Sir Arthur Deane, after an agonized scrutiny of the weird-lookingpersons escorted by the sailors to the water's edge, sadly acknowledgedthat neither of these could be the daughter whom he sought. He bowedhis head in humble resignation, and he thought he was the victim of acruel hallucination when Iris's tremulous accents reached his ears--

  "Father, father! Don't you know me?"

  He stood up, amazed and trembling.

  "Yes, father dear. It is I, your own little girl given back to you. Ohdear! Oh dear! I cannot see you for my tears."

  They had some difficulty to keep him in the boat, and the man pullingstroke smashed a stout oar with the next wrench.

  And so they met at last, and the sailors left them alone, to crowdround Anstruther and ply him with a hundred questions. Although he fellin with their humor, and gradually pieced together the stirring storywhich was supplemented each instant by the arrival of disconsolateDyaks and the comments of the men who returned from cave and beach, hissoul was filled with the sight of Iris and her father, and the happy,inconsequent demands with which each sought to ascertain and relievethe extent of the other's anxiety.

  Then Iris called to him--

  "Robert, I want you."

  The use of his Christian name created something akin to a sensation.Sir Arthur Deane was startled, even in his immeasurable delight atfinding his child uninjured--the picture of rude health and happiness.

  Anstruther advanced.

  "This is my father," she cried, shrill with joy. "And, father darling,this is Captain Robert Anstruther, to whom alone, under God's will, Iowe my life, many, many times since the moment the _Sirdar_ waslost."

  It was no time for questioning. Sir Arthur Deane took off his hat andheld out his hand--

  "Captain Anstruther," he said, "as I owe you my daughter's life, I oweyou that which I can never repay. And I owe you my own life, too, for Icould not have survived the knowledge that she was dead."

  Robert took the proffered hand--

  "I think, Sir Arthur, that, of the two, I am the more deeply indebted.There are some privileges whose value cannot be measured, and amongthem the privilege of restoring your daughter to your arms takes thehighest place."

  Then, being much more self-possessed than the older man, who wasnaturally in a state of agitation that was almost painful, he turned toIris.

  "I think," he said, "that your father should take you on board the_Orient_, Iris. There you may, perhaps, find some suitableclothing, eat something, and recover from the exciting events of themorning. Afterwards, you must bring Sir Arthur ashore again, and wewill guide him over the island. I am sure you will find much to tellhim meanwhile."

  The baronet could not fail to note the manner in which these twoaddressed each other, the fearless love which leaped from eye to eye,the calm acceptance of a relationship not be questioned or gainsaid.Robert and Iris, without spoken word on the subject, had tactily agreedto avoid the slightest semblance of subterfuge as unworthy alike oftheir achievements and their love. Yet what could Sir Arthur Deane do?To frame a suitable protest at such a moment was not to be dreamed of.As yet he was too shaken to collect his thoughts. Anstruther'sproposal, however, helped him to blurt out what he intuitively felt tobe a disagreeable fact. Yet something must be said, for his brainreeled.

  "Your suggestion is admirable," he cried, striving desperately toaffect a careless complaisance. "The ship's stores may provide Iriswith some sort of rig-out, and an old friend of hers is on board atthis moment, little expecting her presence. Lord Ventnor hasaccompanied me in my search. He will, of course, be delighted--"

  Anstruther flushed a deep bronze, but Iris broke in--

  "Father, why did _he_ come with you?"

  Sir Arthur, driven into this sudden squall of explanation, becamedignified.

  "Well, you see, my dear, under the circumstances, he felt an anxietyalmost commensurate with my own."

  "But why, why?"

  Iris was quite calm. With Robert near, she was courageous. Even theperturbed baronet experienced a new sensation as his troubled glancefell before her searching eyes. His daughter had left him a joyous,heedless girl. He found her a woman, strong, self-reliant, purposeful.Yet he kept on, choosing the most straightforward means as the onlyhonorable way of clearing a course so beset
with unsuspected obstacles.

  "It is only reasonable, Iris, that your affianced husband should sufferan agony of apprehension on your account, and do all that was possibleto effect your rescue."

  "My--affianced--husband?"

  "Well, my dear girl, perhaps that is hardly the correct phrase fromyour point of view. Yet you cannot fail to remember that LordVentnor--"

  "Father, dear," said Iris solemnly, but in a voice free from alluncertainty, "my affianced husband stands here! We plighted our trothat the very gate of death. It was ratified in the presence of God, andhas been blessed by Him. I have made no compact with Lord Ventnor. Heis a base and unworthy man. Did you but know the truth concerning himyou would not mention his name in the same breath with mine. Would he,Robert?"

  Never was man so perplexed as the unfortunate shipowner. In the instantthat his beloved daughter was restored to him out of the very depths ofthe sea, he was asked either to undertake the role of a disappointedand unforgiving parent, or sanction her marriage to a truculent-lookingperson of most forbidding if otherwise manly appearance, who hadcertainly saved her from death in ways not presently clear to him, butwho could not be regarded as a suitable son-in-law solely on thataccount.

  What could he do, what could he say, to make the position lessintolerable?

  Anstruther, quicker than Iris to appreciate Sir Arthur Deane's dilemma,gallantly helped him. He placed a loving hand on the girl's shoulder.

  "Be advised by me, Sir Arthur, and you too, Iris," he said. "This is nohour for such explanations. Leave me to deal with Lord Ventnor. I amcontent to trust the ultimate verdict to you, Sir Arthur. You willlearn in due course all that has happened. Go on board, Iris. Meet LordVentnor as you would meet any other friend. You will not marry him, Iknow. I can trust you." He said this with a smile that robbed the wordsof serious purport. "Believe me, you two can find plenty to occupy yourminds today without troubling yourselves about Lord Ventnor."

  "I am very much obliged to you," murmured the baronet, who,notwithstanding his worry, was far too experienced a man of the worldnot to acknowledge the good sense of this advice, no matter howruffianly might be the guise of the strange person who gave it.

  "That is settled, then," said Robert, laughing good-naturedly, for hewell knew what a weird spectacle he must present to the bewildered oldgentleman.

  Even Sir Arthur Deane was fascinated by the ragged and hairy giant whocarried himself so masterfully and helped everybody over the stile atthe right moment He tried to develop the change in the conversation.

  "By the way," he said, "how came you to be on the _Sirdar_? I havea list of all the passengers and crew, and your name does not appeartherein."

  "Oh, that is easily accounted for. I shipped as a steward, in the nameof Robert Jenks."

  "Robert Jenks! A steward!"

  This was worse than ever. The unhappy shipowner thought the sky musthave fallen.

  "Yes. That forms some part of the promised explanation."

  Iris rapidly gathered the drift of her lover's wishes. "Come, father,"she cried merrily. "I am aching to see what the ship's stores, whichyou and Robert pin your faith to, can do for me in the shape ofgarments. I have the utmost belief in the British navy, and even askeptic should be convinced of its infallibility if H.M.S._Orient_ is able to provide a lady's outfit."

  Sir Arthur Deane gladly availed himself of the proffered compromise. Heassisted Iris into the boat, though that active young person was farbetter able to support him, and a word to the officer in command sentthe gig flying back to the ship. Anstruther, during a momentary delay,made a small request on his own account. Lieutenant Playdon, nearly asbig a man as Robert, despatched a note to his servant, and the gigspeedily returned with a complete assortment of clothing and linen. Theman also brought a dressing case, with the result that a dip in thebath, and ten minutes in the hands of an expert valet, made Anstruthera new man.

  Acting under his advice, the bodies of the dead were thrown into thelagoon, the wounded were collected in the hut to be attended to by theship's surgeon, and the prisoners were paraded in front of Mir Jan, whoidentified every man, and found, by counting heads, that none wasmissing.

  Robert did not forget to write out a formal notice and fasten it to therock. This proceeding further mystified the officers of the_Orient_, who had gradually formed a connected idea of the greatfight made by the shipwrecked pair, though Anstruther squirmed inwardlywhen he thought of the manner in which Iris would picture the scene. Asit was, he had the first innings, and he did not fail to use theopportunity. In the few terse words which the militant Briton bestunderstands, he described the girl's fortitude, her unflaggingcheerfulness, her uncomplaining readiness to do and dare.

  Little was said by his auditors, save to interpolate an occasionalquestion as to why such and such a thing was necessary, or how someparticular drawback had been surmounted. Standing near the well, it wasnot necessary to move to explain to them the chief features of theisland, and point out the measures he had adopted.

  When he ended, the first lieutenant, who commanded the boats sent inpursuit of the flying Dyaks--the _Orient_ sank both sampans assoon as they were launched--summed up the general verdict--

  "You do not need our admiration, Captain Anstruther. Each man of usenvies you from the bottom of his soul."

  "I do, I know--from the very bilge," exclaimed a stout midshipman, oneof those who had seen Iris.

  Robert waited until the laugh died away.

  "There is an error about my rank," he said. "I did once hold acommission in the Indian army, but I was court-marshaled and cashieredin Hong Kong six months ago. I was unjustly convicted on a gravecharge, and I hope some day to clear myself. Meanwhile I am a merecivilian. It was only Miss Deane's generous sympathy which led her tomention my former rank, Mr. Playdon."

  Had another of the _Orient's_ 12-pounder shells suddenly burst inthe midst of the group of officers, it would have created less dismaythan this unexpected avowal. Court-martialed! Cashiered! None but aservice man can grasp the awful significance of those words to thecommissioned ranks of the army and navy.

  Anstruther well knew what he was doing. Somehow, he found nothing hardin the performance of these penances now. Of course, the ugly truthmust be revealed the moment Lord Ventnor heard his name. It was notfair to the good fellows crowding around him, and offering everyattention that the frank hospitality of the British sailor couldsuggest, to permit them to adopt the tone of friendly equality whichrigid discipline, if nothing else, would not allow them to maintain.

  The first lieutenant, by reason of his rank, was compelled to saysomething--

  "That is a devilish bad job, Mr. Anstruther," he blurted out.

  "Well, you know, I had to tell you."

  He smiled unaffectedly at the wondering circle. He, too, was anofficer, and appreciated their sentiments. They were unfeignedly sorryfor him, a man so brave and modest, such a splendid type of the soldierand gentleman, yet, by their common law, an outcast. Nor could theywholly understand his demeanor. There was a noble dignity in hiscandor, a conscious innocence that disdained to shield itself under apartial truth. He spoke, not as a wrong-doer, but as one who addressesthose who have been and will be once more his peers.

  The first lieutenant again phrased the thoughts of his juniors--

  "I, and every other man in the ship, cannot help but sympathize withyou. But whatever may be your record--if you were an escaped convict,Mr. Anstruther--no one could withhold from you the praise deserved foryour magnificent stand against overwhelming odds. Our duty is plain. Wewill bring you to Singapore, where the others will no doubt wish to goimmediately. I will tell the Captain what you have been good enough toacquaint us with. Meanwhile we will give you every assistance,and--er--attention in our power."

  A murmur of approbation ran through the little circle. Robert's facepaled somewhat. What first-rate chaps they were, to be sure!

  "I can only thank you," he said unsteadily. "Your kindness is moretrying than adversit
y."

  A rustle of silk, the intrusion into the intent knot of men of a younglady in a Paris gown, a Paris hat, carrying a Trouville parasol, andmost exquisitely gloved and booted, made every one gasp.

  "Oh, Robert dear, how _could_ you? I actually didn't know you!"

  Thus Iris, bewitchingly attired, and gazing now with provokingadmiration at Robert, who certainly offered almost as great a contrastto his former state as did the girl herself. He returned her look withinterest.

  "Would any man believe," he laughed, "that clothes would do so much fora woman?"

  "What a left-handed compliment! But come, dearest, Captain Fitzroy andLord Ventnor have come ashore with father and me. They want us to showthem everything! You will excuse him, won't you?" she added, with aseraphic smile to the others.

  They walked off together.

  "Jimmy!" gasped the fat midshipman to a lanky youth. "She's got on yourtogs!"

  Meaning that Iris had ransacked the _Orient's_ theatricalwardrobe, and pounced on the swell outfit of the principal femaleimpersonator in the ship's company.

  Lieutenant Playdon bit the chin strap of his pith helmet, for thelanding party wore the regulation uniform for service ashore in thetropics. He muttered to his chief--

  "Damme if I've got the hang of this business yet."

  "Neither have I. Anstruther looks a decent sort of fellow, and the girlis a stunner. Yet, d'ye know, Playdon, right through the cruise I'vealways understood that she was the fiancee of that cad, Ventnor."

  "Anstruther appears to have arranged matters differently. Wonder whatpa will say when that Johnnie owns up about the court-martial."

  "Give it up, which is more than the girl will do, or I'm much mistaken.Funny thing, you know, but I've a sort of hazy recollection ofAnstruther's name being mixed up with that of a Colonel's wife at HongKong. Fancy Ventnor was in it too, as a witness. Stand by, and we'llsee something before we unload at Singapore."