The Trader's Wife

He handed the officer a letter addressed to “Captain James Lester, schooner Maritana,” and then rose and began to dress himself.

In a few minutes the cutter’s boat, with Pedro Diaz and four hands, was pulling towards the Maritana which was coming along under a six-knot breeze. The moment the boat left the side Brabant set the gaff topsail and square-sail, and headed the Loelia towards the north end of the island. Just as she disappeared from the view of those on board the approaching vessel, Pedro Diaz came within hailing distance. He stood up.

“Maritana ahoy!”

Lester’s voice replied to his hail, the schooner was brought to the wind, the boat ranged alongside, and Diaz ascended.

“How are you, Lester?” he said, shaking hands with his friend. “I have no time to talk. Read this letter at once, and let me get away with all speed.”

Lester was impressed with the emphatic manner in which he spoke, and without a single question opened Brabant’s letter. Then an exclamation of astonishment burst from him.

“What does it all mean, Pedro? I–”

The Chileno waved his hand impatiently, and shrugged his shoulders. “We must obey orders, Lester.”

“Of course. I shall let Mrs. Brabant know at once.” Then he read the letter a second time.

“Dear Lester,—Please ask Mrs. Brabant to get together some of her luggage as quickly as possible, and come on board the Loelia, which is the better vessel of the two as far as comfort goes. Minea can remain on board the Maritana. You will find further orders awaiting you at Levuka.”

That was all. Lester stepped below, and found his passenger seated at the cabin table.

“That vessel is the Loelia madam, and Diaz has just come aboard with this letter;” and he handed it to her.

“What an extraordinary thing! Why did not my husband come for me himself if he is so anxious for me to join him on the Loelia. Is she close-to?”

“Yes, but not in sight. I think Captain Brabant was afraid of the wind failing, and the cutter drifting in on the weather side of the island, for he has gone round to the lee side.”

Calling Minea, Mrs. Brabant hurriedly packed some necessary clothing, telling the girl the reason for such haste, and in a few minutes she sent word on deck that she was ready. Diaz was already in the boat, steer-oar in hand, and talking to Lester, who was leaning over the rail, wondering why his former comrade seemed so embarrassed, and impatient to get away.

Mrs. Brabant held out her hand. “Good-bye, Captain Lester. I hope you will have a quick passage to Levuka. Goodbye, Minea.”

She descended the ladder into the boat, and took her seat, Diaz lifted his hat, and then gave the word to push off.

“Good-bye, Pedro,” said Lester.

The Chileno looked up.

“Good-bye, Jim, old comrade.”

The men stretched to their oars, and the whaleboat shot out towards the dark shadow of the island as the crew of the Maritana went to the braces, the yards swung round, and she stood away to the eastward, and Lester, with a strange feeling of unrest oppressing him, leant with folded arms upon the rail, and wondered why Pedro Diaz had given such a tone of sadness to his last words.

The night was clear with the light of myriad stars, as the boat swept through the gently heaving sea. Diaz, standing grim and sombre-faced at the steer-oar, had not spoken a word since the boat left the ship. His eyes looked straight ahead.

Mrs. Brabant had never liked the dark, sullen-faced Chilian, but now there came into her heart such a sudden, horrible feeling of loneliness that she felt she would be glad to hear him speak.

“Is my husband quite well, Mr. Diaz?”

“Quite well, madam,” he replied, still staring straight before him.

His voice appalled her, and she made no further effort to break the dreadful silence as she looked at the black bulk of the island, along whose fissured sides there every now and then ran ragged sheets of smoky flame. The boat rounded the island, and then when opposite the little bay, Diaz swung her head round, and headed directly for the shore.

“Are we landing here?” asked the woman in a faint, terrified voice.

“Yes.”

The boat touched the shore, the crew jumped out, carried Mrs. Brabant’s two boxes to the beach, placed a lighted boat-lantern on one, and then Diaz silently held out his hand to assist her on shore.

She stepped out, and then stood facing him for a moment, her cheek showing the pallor of deadly fear. Then the seaman thrust his hand in the breast of his coat, and handed her a letter. In another instant, without a word of farewell, he had leapt into the boat again, which at once pushed off—and she was alone.

When daylight broke it revealed two figures on the lonely beach—one a woman, who lay prone upon the ground, and wept in silent anguish, and the other a man, whose frightful aspect made him look scarcely human. He was kneeling beside one of the boxes, glaring with the eyes of one almost mad with horror at a letter he had taken from the woman’s hand when he discovered her lying unconscious.

“I have known everything from the very first. Danvers said in one of his letters to you that life with you would be happiness unutterable, even in a desert place. I have brought you here to meet him.    He has waited long.

“John Brabant.”

And never again were Danvers and Nell Brabant seen by men, and John Brabant and the Loelia and her crew were supposed to have been lost at sea.