Armadale

'Did they tell you her name?' he asked, in a voice that dropped suddenly to a whisper.

'They did, I think. But it has slipped my memory.—Gently, old fellow; these long claws of yours are rather tight on my shoulder.'

'Was the name—?' He stopped, removed his hand, and dashed away the great drops that were gathering on his forehead. 'Was the name La Grace de Dieu?'

'How the deuce did you come to know it? That's the name, sure enough. La Grace de Dieu.'

At one bound, Midwinter leaped on the bulwark of the wreck.

'The boat!' he cried, with a scream of horror that rang far and wide through the stillness of the night, and brought Allan instantly to his side.

The lower end of the carelessly hitched rope was loose on the water, and ahead, in the track of the moonlight, a small black object was floating out of view. The boat was adrift.

IV. THE SHADOW OF THE PAST.

One stepping back under the dark shelter of the bulwark, and one standing out boldly in the yellow light of the moon, the two friends turned face to face on the deck of the timber-ship, and looked at each other in silence. The next moment Allan's inveterate recklessness seized on the grotesque side of the situation by main force. He seated himself astride on the bulwark, and burst out boisterously into his loudest and heartiest laugh.

'All my fault,' he said; 'but there's no help for it now. Here we are, hard and fast in a trap of our own setting; and there goes the last of the doctor's boat! Come out of the dark, Midwinter; I can't half see you there, and I want to know what's to be done next.'

Midwinter neither answered nor moved. Allan left the bulwark, and, mounting the forecastle, looked down attentively at the waters of the Sound.

'One thing is pretty certain,' he said. 'With the current on that side, and the sunken rocks on this, we can't find our way out of the scrape by swimming, at any rate. So much for the prospect at this end of the wreck. Let's try how things look at the other. Rouse up, messmate!' he called out, cheerfully, as he passed Midwinter. 'Come and see what the old tub of a timber-ship has got to show us astern.' He sauntered on, with his hands in his pockets, humming the chorus of a comic song.

His voice had produced no apparent effect on his friend; but, at the light touch of his hand in passing, Midwinter started, and moved out slowly from the shadow of the bulwark. 'Come along!' cried Allan, suspending his singing for a moment, and glancing back. Still, without a word of answer, the other followed. Thrice he stopped before he reached the stern end of the wreck: the first time, to throw aside his hat, and push back his hair from his forehead and temples; the second time, reeling, giddy, to hold for a moment by a ring-bolt close at hand; the last time (though Allan was plainly visible a few yards ahead), to look stealthily behind him, with the furtive scrutiny of a man who believes that other footsteps are following him in the dark. 'Not yet!' he whispered to himself, with eyes that searched the empty air. 'I shall see him astern, with his hand on the lock of the cabin door.'

The stern end of the wreck was clear of the ship-breakers' lumber, accumulated in the other parts of the vessel. Here, the one object that rose visible on the smooth surface of the deck was the low wooden structure which held the cabin door and roofed in the cabin stairs. The wheel-house had been removed, the binnacle had been removed, but the cabin entrance, and all that had belonged to it, had been left untouched. The scuttle was on, and the door was closed.

On gaining the after-part of the vessel, Allan walked straight to the stern, and looked out to sea over the taffrail. No such thing as a boat was in view anywhere on the quiet, moon-brightened waters. Knowing Midwinter's sight to be better than his own, he called out, 'Come up here, and see if there's a fisherman within hail of us.' Hearing no reply, he looked back. Midwinter had followed him as far as the cabin, and had stopped there. He called again in a louder voice, and beckoned impatiently. Midwinter had heard the call, for he looked up, but still he never stirred from his place. There he stood, as if he had reached the utmost limits of the ship and could go no further.

Allan went back and joined him. It was not easy to discover what he was looking at, for he kept his face turned away from the moonlight; but it seemed as if his eyes were fixed, with a strange expression of inquiry, on the cabin door. 'What is there to look at there?' Allan asked. 'Let's see if it's locked.' As he took a step forward to open the door, Midwinter's hand seized him suddenly by the coat collar and forced him back. The moment after, the hand relaxed without losing its grasp, and trembled violently, like the hand of a man completely unnerved.

'Am I to consider myself in custody?' asked Allan, half astonished and half amused. 'Why in the name of wonder do you keep staring at the cabin door? Any suspicious noises below? It's no use disturbing the rats—if that's what you mean—we haven't got a dog with us. Men? Living men they can't be; for they would have heard us and come on deck. Dead men? Quite impossible! No ship's crew could be drowned in a land-locked place like this, unless the vessel broke up under them—and here's the vessel as steady as a church to speak for herself. Man alive, how your hand trembles! What is there to scare you in that rotten old cabin? What are you shaking and shivering about? Any company of the supernatural sort on board? Mercy preserve us! (as the old women say) do you see a ghost?'

'I see two!' answered the other, driven headlong into speech and action by a maddening temptation to reveal the truth. 'Two!' he repeated, his breath bursting from him in deep, heavy gasps, as he tried vainly to force back the horrible words. 'The ghost of a man like you, drowning in the cabin! And the ghost of a man like me, turning the lock of the door on him!'

Once more young Armadale's hearty laughter rang out loud and long through the stillness of the night.

'Turning the lock of the door, is he?' said Allan, as soon as his merriment left him breath enough to speak. 'That's a devilish unhandsome action, Master Midwinter, on the part of your ghost. The least I can do, after that, is to let mine out of the cabin, and give him the run of the ship.'

With no more than a momentary exertion of his superior strength, he freed himself easily from Midwinter's hold. 'Below there!' he called out, gayly, as he laid his strong hand on the crazy lock, and tore open the cabin door. 'Ghost of Allan Armadale, come on deck!' In his terrible ignorance of the truth, he put his head into the doorway and looked down, laughing, at the place where his murdered father had died. 'Pah!' he exclaimed, stepping back suddenly, with a shudder of disgust. 'The air is foul already; and the cabin is full of water.'

It was true. The sunken rocks on which the vessel lay wrecked had burst their way through her lower timbers astern, and the water had welled up through the rifted wood. Here, where the deed had been done, the fatal