The Lady and the Pirate - Page 178/199

And then, in the most natural way in the world, there were both!

Without much warning, the pulse of our engine slackened, the throb of

our single screw slowed down and ceased. Williams stuck his head up

out of his engine-room and shouted something to Peterson, who

methodically drew out his pipe and made ready for a smoke.

"It's no use going any farther," explained Williams when I came up.

"That intake's gone wrong again, and she's got sand all through her.

It's a crime to see her cut herself all to pieces this way. We've just

got to stop and clean her up, that's all, and fix the job right--ought

to have done it back there before we started in."

"How long will it take, Williams?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't know, sir. More than this afternoon, sure."

"That's too bad," said I, with a fair imitation of regret. "We had

expected to make Manning Island by night."

"Yes, it is too bad, but it's better to stop than ruin her, isn't it,

sir?"

"Certainly it is, and I quite approve your judgment. But I presume we

can go a little way yet, until we find a good berth somewhere? There's

a deep channel comes in from the left, just ahead, and I think if we

move on half a mile or so, we can get water enough to float even at

low tide, and at the same time be out of sight of any boats passing in

the lower part of the bay."

"Oh, yes, sir, we can get that far," said the engineer. Peterson was

full of gloom, and though he thought nothing less than that we were

going to be kept here a month, as one more event in a trip already

unlucky enough, he gave the wheel to our Cajun pilot, and we crawled

on around the head of a long point that came out into the bay. Here we

could not see Manning Island, and were out of sight from most of the

bay, so that, once more, the feeling of remoteness, aloofness, came

upon me.

Not that it did me any present good. I despatched L'Olonnois as

messenger to the ladies, telling them the cause of our delay, and

explaining how difficult it was to say just when we would get in to

the island; and then I betook myself to gloomy pacing up and down what

restricted part of the deck I felt free for my own use. I wearied of

it soon, and went to my cabin, trying to read.

At first I undertook one of the modern novels which had been

recommended by my bookseller, but I found myself unable to get on with

it, and standing before my shelves took down one volume after another

of philosophers who once were wont to comfort me--men with brains,

thinking men who had done something in the world beside buying yachts

and country houses. My eye caught a page which earlier I had turned

down, and I read again: "Trust thyself; every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the

place the Divine Providence has found for you--the society of friends,

the connexion of events. Great men have always done so, and confided

themselves childlike to the genius of their age.... And we now are

men, and must accept in the highest mind the same transcendent

destiny; and not pinched in a corner nor cowards fleeing before a

revolution, but redeemers, and benefactors, pious aspirants to be

noble clay, under the Almighty effort let us advance on Chaos and the

Dark."