Elsie dared not meet his eyes; a flood of understanding had suddenly
poured its miraculous waters over her. Incidents unimportant in
themselves, utterances which seemed to have no veiled intent at the
time, rushed in upon her with overwhelming conviction. Christobal
suspected her of flirting with Courtenay, and disapproved of it as
strongly as she herself had condemned Isobel's admitted efforts in the
same direction. Though not a little dismayed, she resolved to carry
the war into the enemy's territory.
"Why are you looking so glum, Dr. Christobal?" she demanded. "Has the
captain's quip given you a shock, or is it that you are surprised at my
levity?"
"I am neither shocked nor surprised, Miss Maxwell. I have not lived
fifty years in this Vale of Tears without being prepared for the
unexpected."
"Does that imply that you are disillusioned?"
"By no means. My heart is amazingly young. 'There is no fool like an
old fool,' you know."
"Oh, please don't speak of age in that way. You are far from being an
antiquity. Why, within the past twenty-four hours I have come to look
on you as a sort of elder brother, who can be indulgent even while he
chides."
Courtenay found himself wondering what had caused this flash of
rapiers. But, so far as he was concerned, the proceedings of the
Indians put a stop to any further share in the conversation. The canoe
had drifted closer to the ship. It was about eighty yards distant when
the Indian who was on his feet suddenly whirled a sling, and sent a
stone crashing through the window of the music-room. The heavy
missile, which, when picked up, was found to weigh nearly half a pound,
just missed Tollemache, who was the first to take note of the sharp
warning given by Suarez, but failed, nevertheless, to dodge quickly
enough.
The captain raised a double-barreled fowling-piece, the only gun on
board, and fired point blank at the savages. But the women were
paddling away vigorously, and the shot splashed in the water on all
sides of the canoe, though a howl and a series of violent contortions
showed that one, at least, of the pellets had stung the wizened Indian
whom Suarez believed to be a newcomer.
There was no second shot--cartridges were too precious to be wasted at
an impossible range--but the undeniable fact remained that the Indians
meant to be aggressive. For a little time no one spoke. They heard
the echoes of the gunshot faintly thrown back by the nearest wall of
rock; the regular plash of the paddles as the canoe sped shorewards was
distinctly audible. They watched the tiny craft until it vanished
round the wooded point which concealed Otter Creek. Then, to add to
the sense of loneliness and peace conveyed by the placid bay and the
green slopes beyond, a big whale rolled into view in the middle
distance, and blew a column of water high in air.