A shark had been at my trailing fowls; had taken the bunch of them together, dragging the legs from my loose fastenings. Lucky they had been no stronger! Else had I been dragged down to perdition too.
Lucky, did I say? The refinement of cruelty rather; for now I had neither meat nor drink; my throat was a kiln; my tongue a flame;and another day at hand.
The stars were out; the sea was silver; the sun was up!
. . . . .
Hours passed.
I was waiting now for my delirium.
It came in bits.
I was a child. I was playing on the lawn at home. I was back on the blazing sea.
I was a schoolboy saying my Ovid; then back once more.
The hen-coop was the Lady Jermyn. I was at Eva Denison's side.
They were marrying us on board. The ship's bell was ringing for us;a guitar in the background burlesqued the Wedding March under skinny fingers; the air was poisoned by a million cigarettes, they raised a pall of smoke above the mastheads, they set fire to the ship;smoke and flame covered the sea from rim to rim, smoke and flame filled the universe; the sea dried up, and I was left lying in its bed, lying in my coffin, with red-hot teeth, because the sun blazed right above them, and my withered lips were drawn back from them for ever.
So once more I came back to my living death; too weak now to carry a finger to the salt water and back to my mouth; too weak to think of Eva; too weak to pray any longer for the end, to trouble or to care any more.
Only so tired.
. . . . .
Death has no more terrors for me. I have supped the last horror of the worst death a man can die. You shall hear now for what I was delivered; you shall read of my reward.
My floating coffin was many things in turn; a railway carriage, a pleasure boat on the Thames, a hammock under the trees; last of all it was the upper berth in a not very sweet-smelling cabin, with a clatter of knives and forks near at hand, and a very strong odor of onions in the Irish stew.
My hand crawled to my head; both felt a wondrous weight; and my head was covered with bristles no longer than those on my chin, only less stubborn.
"Where am I?" I feebly asked.
The knives and forks clattered on, and presently I burst out crying because they had not heard me, and I knew that I could never make them hear. Well, they heard my sobs, and a huge fellow came with his mouth full, and smelling like a pickle bottle.
"Where am I?"
"Aboard the brig Eliza, Liverpool, homeward bound; glad to see them eyes open.""Have I been here long?"
"Matter o' ten days."
Where did you find me Floating in a hen-coop; thought you was a dead 'un.""Do you know what ship?"
"Do we know? No, that's what you've got to tell us!""I can't," I sighed, too weak to wag my head upon the pillow.
The man went to my cabin door.
"Here's a go," said he; "forgotten the name of his blessed ship, he has. Where's that there paper, Mr. Bowles? There's just a chance it may be the same.""I've got it, sir."
"Well, fetch it along, and come you in, Mr. Bowles; likely you may think o' somethin'."A reddish, hook-nosed man, with a jaunty, wicked look, came and smiled upon me in the friendliest fashion; the smell of onions became more than I knew how to endure.
"Ever hear of the ship Lady Jermyn?" asked the first corner, winking at the other.
I thought very hard, the name did sound familiar; but no, I could not honestly say that I had beard it before.
The captain looked at his mate.
"It was a thousand to one," said he; "still we may as well try him with the other names. Ever heard of Cap'n Harris, mister?""Not that I know of."
"Of Saunderson-stooard?"
"No."
"Or Crookes-quartermaster."
"Never."
"Nor yet of Ready - a passenger?"
"No."
"It's no use goin' on," said the captain folding up the paper.
"None whatever, sir," said the mate "Ready! Ready!" I repeated. "I do seem to have heard that name before. Won't you give me another chance ?"The paper was unfolded with a shrug.
"There was another passenger of the name of San-Santos. Dutchman, seemin'ly. Ever heard o' him?"My disappointment was keen. I could not say that I had. Yet Iwould not swear that I had not.
"Oh, won't you? Well, there's only one more chance. Ever heard of Miss Eva Denison - ""By God, yes! Have you?"
I was sitting bolt upright in my bunk. The skipper's beard dropped upon his chest.
"Bless my soul! The last name o' the lot, too!""Have you heard of her ?" I reiterated.
"Wait a bit, my lad! Not so fast. Lie down again and tell me who she was.""Who she was?" I screamed. "I want to know where she is!""I can't hardly say," said the captain awkwardly. "We found the gig o' the Lady Jermyn the week arter we found you, bein' becalmed like; there wasn't no lady aboard her, though.""Was there anybody?"
"Two dead 'uns - an' this here paper."
"Let me see it!"
The skipper hesitated.
"Hadn't you better wait a bit?"
"No, no; for Christ's sake let me see the worst; do you think Ican't read it in your face?"
I could - I did. I made that plain to them, and at last I had the paper smoothed out upon my knees. It was a short statement of the last sufferings of those who had escaped in the gig, and there was nothing in it that I did not now expect. They had buried Ready first - then my darling - then her step-father. The rest expected to follow fast enough. It was all written plainly, on a sheet of the log-book, in different trembling hands. Captain Harris had gone next; and two had been discovered dead.
How long I studied that bit of crumpled paper, with the salt spray still sparkling on it faintly, God alone knows. All at once a peal of nightmare laughter rattled through the cabin. My deliverers started back. The laugh was mine.
