took hands in the trough of the sea?”
Harrigan raised his hand.
“So help me God—” he began.
“Wait!” broke in McTee. “Don’t say it. Suppose we get off the island, and when we reach port find one thing which we both want. What then?”
Harrigan remembered a word from the Bible.
“I’ll never covet one of your belongin’s, McTee, an’ I’ll never cross your wishes.”
“Your hair is red, Harrigan, and mine is black; your eye is blue and mine is black. We were made to want the same thing in different ways. I’ve never met my mate before. I can stand it here on the rim of the world—but in the world itself—what then, Harrigan?”
They stepped apart, and the glance of the black eye crossed that of thecold blue.
“Ah-h, McTee, are ye dark inside and out? Is the black av your eye the same as the soot in your heart?”
“Harrigan, you were born to fight and forget; I was born to fight and remember. Well, I take no oath, but here’s my hand. It’s better than the oath of most men.”
“A strange fist,” grinned Harrigan; “soft in the palm and hard over the knuckles—like mine.”
They went down the hill toward the beach, Harrigan singing and McTee silent, with downward head. On the beach they started for some rocks which shelved out into the water, for it was possible that they might find some sort of shellfish on the rocks below the surface of the water. Before they reached the place, however, McTee stopped and pointed out across the waves. Some object tossed slowly up and down a short distance from the beach.
“From the wreck,” said McTee. “I didn’t think it would drift quite as fast as this.”
They waded out to examine; the water was not over their waists when they reached it. They found a whole section from the side of the wheelhouse, the timbers intact.
On it lay Kate Malone, unconscious.
Manifestly she never could have kept on the big fragment during the night of the storm had it not been for a piece of stout twine with which she had tied her left wrist to a projecting bolt. She had wrapped the cord many times, but despite this it had worn away her skin and sunk deep in the flesh of her arm. Half her clothes were torn away as she had been thrown about on the boards. Whether from exhaustion or the pain of her cut wrist, she had fainted and evidently lain in this position for several hours; one side of her face was burned pink by the heat of the sun.
They dragged the float in, and McTee knelt beside the girl and pressed an ear against her breast.
“Living!” he announced. “Now we’re three on the rim of the world.”
“Which makes a crowd,” grinned Harrigan.
CHAPTER 10
They started working eagerly to revive her. While McTee bathed her face and throat with handfuls of the sea water, Harrigan worked to liberate her from the twine. It was not easy. The twine was wet, and the knot held fast. Finally he gnawed it in two with his teeth. McTee, at the same time, elicited a faint moan. Her wrist was bruised and swollen rather than dangerously cut. Harrigan stuffed the twine into his hip pocket; then the two Adams carried their Eve to the shade of a tree and watched the color come back to her face by slow degrees.
The wind now increased suddenly as it had done on the evening of the wreck. It rose even as the day darkened, and in a moment it was rushing through the trees screaming in a constantly rising crescendo. The rain was coming, and against that tropical squall shelter was necessary.
The two men ran down the beach and returned dragging the ponderous section of the wheelhouse. They leaned the frame against two trunks at the same instant that the first big drops of rain rattled against it. Overhead they were quite securely protected by the dense and interweaving foliage of the two trees, but still the wind whistled in at either side and over and under the frame of boards. Of one accord they dropped beside their patient.
She was trembling violently; they heard the
Harrigan raised his hand.
“So help me God—” he began.
“Wait!” broke in McTee. “Don’t say it. Suppose we get off the island, and when we reach port find one thing which we both want. What then?”
Harrigan remembered a word from the Bible.
“I’ll never covet one of your belongin’s, McTee, an’ I’ll never cross your wishes.”
“Your hair is red, Harrigan, and mine is black; your eye is blue and mine is black. We were made to want the same thing in different ways. I’ve never met my mate before. I can stand it here on the rim of the world—but in the world itself—what then, Harrigan?”
They stepped apart, and the glance of the black eye crossed that of thecold blue.
“Ah-h, McTee, are ye dark inside and out? Is the black av your eye the same as the soot in your heart?”
“Harrigan, you were born to fight and forget; I was born to fight and remember. Well, I take no oath, but here’s my hand. It’s better than the oath of most men.”
“A strange fist,” grinned Harrigan; “soft in the palm and hard over the knuckles—like mine.”
They went down the hill toward the beach, Harrigan singing and McTee silent, with downward head. On the beach they started for some rocks which shelved out into the water, for it was possible that they might find some sort of shellfish on the rocks below the surface of the water. Before they reached the place, however, McTee stopped and pointed out across the waves. Some object tossed slowly up and down a short distance from the beach.
“From the wreck,” said McTee. “I didn’t think it would drift quite as fast as this.”
They waded out to examine; the water was not over their waists when they reached it. They found a whole section from the side of the wheelhouse, the timbers intact.
On it lay Kate Malone, unconscious.
Manifestly she never could have kept on the big fragment during the night of the storm had it not been for a piece of stout twine with which she had tied her left wrist to a projecting bolt. She had wrapped the cord many times, but despite this it had worn away her skin and sunk deep in the flesh of her arm. Half her clothes were torn away as she had been thrown about on the boards. Whether from exhaustion or the pain of her cut wrist, she had fainted and evidently lain in this position for several hours; one side of her face was burned pink by the heat of the sun.
They dragged the float in, and McTee knelt beside the girl and pressed an ear against her breast.
“Living!” he announced. “Now we’re three on the rim of the world.”
“Which makes a crowd,” grinned Harrigan.
CHAPTER 10
They started working eagerly to revive her. While McTee bathed her face and throat with handfuls of the sea water, Harrigan worked to liberate her from the twine. It was not easy. The twine was wet, and the knot held fast. Finally he gnawed it in two with his teeth. McTee, at the same time, elicited a faint moan. Her wrist was bruised and swollen rather than dangerously cut. Harrigan stuffed the twine into his hip pocket; then the two Adams carried their Eve to the shade of a tree and watched the color come back to her face by slow degrees.
The wind now increased suddenly as it had done on the evening of the wreck. It rose even as the day darkened, and in a moment it was rushing through the trees screaming in a constantly rising crescendo. The rain was coming, and against that tropical squall shelter was necessary.
The two men ran down the beach and returned dragging the ponderous section of the wheelhouse. They leaned the frame against two trunks at the same instant that the first big drops of rain rattled against it. Overhead they were quite securely protected by the dense and interweaving foliage of the two trees, but still the wind whistled in at either side and over and under the frame of boards. Of one accord they dropped beside their patient.
She was trembling violently; they heard the
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