By the World Forgot: A Double Romance of the East and West

"Perhaps they have all perished," said Harnash, forcing himself to speak.

"A fitting end for an isolation of two centuries and a half," said Beekman mournfully.

"And how did you come to the island?"

"It's a long story," answered Beekman. "I'll tell it to you when we are all assembled. Meanwhile, if I could get some clothes-"

"You have only to choose from your own, Derrick," said Harnash. "At Stephanie's suggestion, when we started this search for you, we brought along some of your clothes."

"Good. And this beard-"

"My man will fix you up," said Maynard. "I'll send him to you. Are you hungry?"

"The steward has been feeding me what he thinks is proper."

"And your arm?"

"Sore and stiff, but it will be all right in a day or two. I suppose I should have stayed in the berth, but when I heard the name of the yacht and caught the sound of your voices-well, you know. I'll be back just as quickly as I can dress."

When Beekman returned to the cabin half an hour later he was completely metamorphosed. He laughed at his own fancy, but from the very complete wardrobe they had brought him he had chosen to attire himself in the same sort of a conventional dinner suit as Maynard and Harnash were wearing. The thick beard and mustache which had so worried him had disappeared under the deft manipulations of Mr. Maynard's man. Clean shaven, clothed, in his right mind, one might have thought that the adventures of the last year had passed over his head without a trace.

For a moment poor Truda was hard put to recognize in this new man the one she had loved and who had won her heart. On her part the change was even more striking, albeit in a different direction. She was now completely covered up. With exquisite taste, Stephanie and Celeste had arrayed her in a soft, rich silken garment of mandarin blue fantastically embroidered in delicate gold thread, a product of one of the most famous looms of ancient China. It was confined about her waist by a sash of cloth of gold, and fell in loose folds to her feet. The two women had got stockings on her feet, but the ordinary slipper was impossible. Soft footwear of Turkish leather met the situation. The broad mandarin sleeves of the coat, or kimono, fell back when she lifted her hands, revealing her exquisitely proportioned rounded arm. The garment was cut low at the throat and held by a brooch of pearls, and, to please her fancy, as one adorns a doll or child, Stephanie's famous pearl necklace was clasped about Truda's warm, brown neck. From this mass of blue and gold and white her lovely head with its golden crown rose magnificently. Poor Truda had been as clay in the hands of the potter. She had suffered everything silently without resistance. It had been his will and she was his property. She had possessed all the beauty of wild and lovely nature before. Without losing much of that appeal, she now exhibited it in conjunction with an ancient oriental civilization, albeit to occidental eyes half barbaric.

Looking not unlike a lamb dressed for the slaughter, Truda sat by the side of Stephanie, who seemed to the untutored eyes of the semi-savage not unlike a goddess. The table had been cleared of all save the after-dinner coffee and the decanters. Later, Beekman found himself amazed at the ease with which he took up the customs of civilization and its refinements after so long and so violent a break therewith. For the moment he could only stare at Truda, and she returned the stare with interest. Who was this radiant creature to whom the delights of color had been added? he asked himself. Who was this godlike figure of man in the awesome and yet enhancing raiment? she questioned. It was not until Beekman smiled and spoke to her, using instinctively the familiar Polynesian dialect, that she could catch her breath and feel her heart resume its beat. He used the Polynesian because somehow it was more intimate, because he could say in it what he liked to her without the others being privy to his communication; and, finally, because he instinctively divined that in her agitation, which was obvious, her birth-language, which she had used from childhood, would be more soothing and agreeable to her. Naturally, his first question was as to her condition.

"How do you feel after all we have been through?"

"Well; and you?" said the girl, and all who listened so closely never suspected that Truda knew any other language than that Beekman used, and they were amazed at the music in her voice, the soft syllables falling through her lips entrancingly.

"I'm all right, save for this bruised arm, and that be well in a day or so."

Then Truda herself struck at him with a question.

"This beautiful woman. You know her?"

"Yes."

That seemed perfectly natural to Truda. She had no idea of the size of the world. All of these godlike beings must know one another as a matter of course.

"And you love her?"

Beekman smiled.

"I did once, but not now."

"Is she the woman you told me of on the island?"

Beekman nodded.

"If you don't take me and keep me," said Truda, suddenly passionate, her face flaming, "I shall die. You might better have let me go in the waves yesterday."

Beekman crossed the cabin and stopped by her side. He laid his hand on her head and turned her face up to him.

"You're the one woman for me, Truda," he said simply. Then realizing his obligations to the rest, he turned to them. "You will be anxious to know what we were talking about. I asked her how she was, and she told me she was well and asked in her turn for my welfare."

It was obvious to Stephanie at least that his translation by no means represented the sum total of the conversation that had passed between the two, but having her own ends to serve, like a wise woman, she gave no voice to her suspicions.

"Now, if you feel like it, we should like to hear the whole story," said Maynard.

"To begin with," said Beekman, "as George has probably told you, I guess we had a glass too many on that last night in New York, although we really drank so little that I have been inclined to the belief that there must have been foul play somewhere. At any rate, all I really know is that I woke up twenty-four hours or so later in the forecastle of an old-fashioned sailing ship called the Susquehanna."

"We learned that much ourselves," said Mr. Maynard. He pressed an electric button on the bulkhead by his side, and to the steward who answered he directed the boatswain to be summoned. "Just a moment, Beekman," he said; "we have an old friend of yours aboard, and here he is," he added as the weather-beaten, grizzled head of James Gersey was cautiously projected around the door-jamb. "Come in, Bo's'n," he exclaimed heartily.

The next instant Beekman caught him by the hand.

"How did you come here, Gersey?" he cried, "and how are Templin and the rest of the men?"

"Templin an' some others of us shipped aboard this yacht, Mr. Maynard makin' the proposition an' Captain Weatherby bein' agreeable. We wanted to hunt you up, an' bein' as we'd seed the last of you when we set you adrift, 'twas thought we know'd more about you than anybody else an' could be the best help."

"Wonder of wonders!" exclaimed Beekman. "I guess your story comes before mine, Mr. Maynard."

"Well, to make it short," said Harnash, after a glance from Maynard, "the Susquehanna caught fire and was burned at sea. Captain Fish went down with her, refusing to leave the bridge. The mate's boat was lost. Gersey's boat was picked up and brought into Honolulu, and from him we learned the whole story of your adventures on the ship. As soon as we heard them we decided to search for you, in the hope that you might have landed on some of these islands, or have been cast away, which has proved to be the case, and here we are."

"You know the unfortunate cause of my leaving the ship?" asked Beekman, his brow darkening.

"Of course; we have the log book of the Susquehanna."

"And I must face a charge of murder when I get back?"

"You needn't worry about that," said Maynard quickly. "Manuel made a deposition saying it was in self-defense. The testimony of the men was added. You'll never hear from it again."

"Thank God for that!" said Beekman fervently.

"Go on with your story."

Rapidly and graphically Beekman put them in possession of the wondrous romance of which he had been a part. Without reserve he told them everything that had happened, except one thing-his love for Truda. He suppressed that most carefully, and Truda, who sat silently listening, her wits sharpened by love and jealousy, understanding much more than he or anyone dreamed, noted that fact with a horrible sinking of the heart. In her simplicity she could not believe that anyone could love her after seeing Stephanie.

Now, Beekman purposely left out of the conversation that feature of his life. His relations with Stephanie were still, to all intents and purposes, what they had been. As he reflected upon it while dressing, it seemed to him that she had offered him the greatest evidence of devotion to him by coming on the cruise to search for him. That any other motive was back of her action naturally did not occur to him. He inferred that she was more in love with him than he had dreamed. He recognized that her presence added to her claim upon him. It was a situation fraught with difficulty.

It was evidence to his own heart of the depth and sincerity of his feeling for Truda that the presence of Stephanie only disquieted him, and that even her lovely perfection did not move him one bit. He could not, however, as he was a gentleman, blurt out the fact that he no longer loved her, did not want to marry her, and would not marry her. Hence the constraint and restraint with which he told the story. It was a tale sufficiently thrilling in itself, such as Sindbad the Sailor might have told to some auditory in the Arabian Nights, and their arrival at that very island after that tremendous, titanic convulsion of nature which had brought them together, was not the least wonderful feature of the whole situation.

When he was finished they questioned him. Especially were they interested in the history of the people of the Good Intent, whom they had followed into the harbor after a lapse of two hundred and fifty years.

"I have no doubt that the earthquake shock, which was sufficient to tear away one side of the island wall and this harbor, as you have seen-for, before, every side was as sheer as the side off to port yonder-has wrought terrible damage to the settlement; but we shall find that out tomorrow."

"Meanwhile," observed Maynard, "I think we have had quite enough excitement for the day."

"And our interest in your story has caused us to forget the awful strain you have sustained, to say nothing of this dear girl here," said Stephanie.