Robert Watson

“ And, more out of cussedness,—as Jake would put it,—than anything else, I kept plodding along slowly, neither increasing nor diminishing the distance between us.
She was well aware of my proximity, and, at last, when we were little more than a hundred yards from the point of the rock at the farthest out end of the wharf, she wheeled on me like the exasperated sea-nymph she was.
"I told you the other day, Mr. Bremner, that you could not hide the fact that you were a gentleman. If you do not wish me to regret having said that,—you will go away. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself." ”

“ One night, after the little workers had gone back to Vancouver, I was lying in my bed enjoying Robert Louis Stevenson's "Virginibus Puerisque," when I fancied I heard the throbbing of a gasoline launch. I rose and looked out at the open window; but it was one of those inky-black nights, without either moon or stars, a night when even the sea became invisible,—so I saw nothing.
When the throbbing ceased, I heard the sound of oars and, as a small boat evidently neared the shore, there came a sound of voices, both male and female. ”

“ My first glance out of doors, early next morning, materialised what I had a vague notion might have been a dream. There was no sign of any stir in the house across the little, wooden, rustic bridge that connected it, over a narrow creek, with the roadway leading to the store. That was only natural, as, in all probability, the travellers were journey-weary. But a freshly painted rowing boat, with light oars, was made fast to the off side of the wharf, while several leather travelling bags and other packages were piled on the veranda of that house over the way. ”

“ When I got up that morning, I felt jaded. As I ate my breakfast, I became more so; but, as I went out on to the veranda to look upon the beauties of Golden Crescent,—as I did every morning,—I came to myself.
This will never do, George Bremner! What you need is a swim!
I had hit it. Why had not I thought of it sooner? I undressed, and in less time than it takes to retell it, I was in the water and striking straight for Rita's Isle. ”

“ I wished him good-night gruffly, hurried over the beach, scrambled into the boat and rowed quickly for my new home.
And, as I stood on the veranda for a long time before turning in, I watched the moon rise and skim her way behind and above the clouds, throwing, as she did so, great dark shadows and eerie lights on the sea.
In the vast, awesome stillness of the forest behind and the swishing and shuffling of the incoming tide on the shingles on the beach, I thought of what my good friend, K. B. Horsfal, had quoted:
"Where every prospect pleases and only man is vile." ”

“ Late in the afternoon, when I was beginning to grow tired of my indolence, I heard the thud, thud of a gasoline launch as it came up the Bay. It passed between Rita's Isle and the wharf, and held on, turning in to Jake Meaghan's cove.
I wondered who the visitor could be, then I went back to my reading.
Not long after, a shadow fell across my book and I jumped up.
"Pray, don't let me disturb you, my son," said a soft, well-modulated, masculine voice. "Stay where you are. Enjoy your well-earned rest." ”

“ Late one afternoon, I was standing on Clark's veranda, chatting with Margaret over a letter that had arrived from Rita; when I noticed a fast-moving launch dart into the Bay full speed, straight for my landing, lower a dinghy, land some people, then turn and speed out again almost before my brain could grasp the full purport.
I dashed suddenly away from my old lady friend, without so much as a word of explanation. I tumbled into my boat and rowed furiously for home. How I railed at that long half-hour! To think of it,—Mary in Golden Crescent half-an-hour and I had not yet spoken to her! ”

“ We stood on the highest rock, in front of the old fisherman's dwelling, watching the huge waves rolling in and breaking on the headlands with deafening thundering, showering us with rainbow sprays and swallowing up the sounds of our voices.
Rita kept her eyes away from the horrible rock, which seemed so much nearer to us now than when we were in the far back shelter of the Bay. And, indeed, it was nearer, for barely a quarter of a mile divided it from Neil's foreshore. ”

“ Andrew Clark is immovable. He is hard, relentless, fanatical in his ideas of right and wrong; cruel to himself and to the woman he vowed to love and cherish. Oh!—he sears my heart every time I think of him. Yet, he is living up to his idea of what is right."
The white-haired old gentleman,—bearer of the burdens of his fellows,—did not confide in me as to the nature of Andrew Clark's trouble, and it was not for me to probe.
"As for Rita," he pursued, "poor, little Rita!—she is no relative of either Margaret or Andrew Clark. She is a child of the sea. ”

“ We listened on and on,—after the chilly night wind had come up from the sea, for we did not know of its coming until the music ceased and the light faded away from the parlour of the house behind us.
"Gee!" exclaimed Jake at last, spitting his mouthful of tobacco over into the water and wiping his eyes with his coat sleeve, "but that dope pulls a gink's socks off,—you bet.
"Guess, if a no-gooder like me had of heard that stuff oftener when he was a kid, he wouldn't be such a no-gooder;—eh! George." ”

“ As for Mary Grant,—she was seldom idle. I had seen her make her own clothes, I had seen her over the washtub with her sleeves rolled up to her fair, white shoulders, I had seen her bake and houseclean; sharing the daily duties with her elderly companion.
Yet she enjoyed to the full the delights that Golden Crescent afforded. In her spare time, she rowed on the water, bathed, roved the forests behind for wild flowers and game, read in her hammock and revelled in her music. ”

“ We glided up the Bay, past Jake Meaghan's little home; still further up, then into the lagoon, where not a ripple disturbed that placid sheet of water: where the trees and rocks smiled down upon their own mirrored reflections.
We grew silent as the nature around us, awed by the splendours of the hushing universe upon which we had been gazing.
"It is beautiful! oh, so beautiful!" said my companion at last, awaking from her dreaming. "Let us stay here awhile. I cannot think to go home yet." ”

“ Poor old Jake! More than once I had almost been tempted to coax him to go back to his nightly libations, for, since he had begun his fight for abstinence, he seemed to be gradually going down the hill; losing weight, losing strength, losing interest in his daily pursuits, and, with it all, ageing.
The minister had noticed the change and had expressed his concern. Rita also had talked of it to me; and her visits to the old man had become more frequent, her little attentions had grown in number and her solicitude for his bodily comfort had become almost motherly. ”

“ Well I could understand now why this Rita Clark intuitively hated The Ghoul Rock. Who, in her place, would feel otherwise?
The Rev. William Auld rose from the table.
"I must go now, my son, for the way is long. Thanks so much for the rest and for your hospitality. My only exhortation to you is, stand firm by all the principles you know to be true; never lose hold of the vital things because you are here in the wilds, for it is here the vital things count, more than in the whirr of civilisation." ”

“ Early as I was, I could see a thin column of smoke rising from the cove where Jake was. When I went to the woodpile at the rear of my bungalow, I found more evidence of his early morning diligence. A heap of dry, freshly cut kindling was set out, while the chickens had already been fed and let out to wander at their own sweet wills.
For the first time in my very ordinary life, I investigated the eccentricities of a cook stove, overcame them and cooked myself a rousing breakfast of porridge and bacon and eggs with toast. How proud I felt of my achievement and how delicious the food tasted! ”

“ He led me into the kitchen, where his wife,—a quiet, white-haired old lady with a loving face and great sad eyes,—was sitting in an armchair darning.
She looked up as we entered.
Andrew Clark did not seek to introduce me, which I thought unmannerly. I turned round for Rita, but Rita had not followed us in; so I went forward and held out my hand. The dear old woman took it and smiled as if to say, "How sensible of you."
"Sit down and make yourself at home," she said kindly. ”

“ Already a month had slipped by since I had wished good-bye to little Rita,—happy, merry, little, laughing Rita,—and her great, handsome giant of a husband, Joe; holding the end of the rope ladder for them, from my rowing boat, as they clambered aboard the Siwash, at the start of their six months' honeymoon trip of pleasure and sight-seeing. ”

“ I am a veritable drunkard with tea, and as for music—ask Jake, out there sitting on the cliffs in the darkness, if I like music. He knows. Ask me, as I lie in my hammock here, night after night, waiting for you to begin,—if Jake likes music, and the answer will satisfy you just how much both of us appreciate it. ”

“ I rose to go, bidding good-night to the old people. Rita came down to the boat. Her face was anxious and she was searching mine for something she feared to find.
"Poor little girl," I exclaimed, as I laid my hand on her head. "How long has this been going on between your grandmother and grand-dad?"
Her eyes filled.
"Oh! George,—it ain't grandmother's fault. She'd give her soul if grand-dad would only speak to her. It's killing her gradual, like a dry rot." ”

“ Horsfal, they would be: in such a climate as we have here but away somewhere up the coast, with the sea in front of me and the trees and the hills behind me; the open air, the sunlight; contending with the natural,—not the artificial,—obstacles of life; work, with a sufficiency of leisure; quiet, when quiet were desired; and, in the evening as the sun went down into the sea or behind the hills, a cosy fire, a good book and my pipe going good."
K. B. Horsfal, millionaire, patentee, lumberman and meat-packer, looked at me, sighed and nodded his head. ”

“ Neil had the telescope at his eye again. He handed it to me quickly. "George!—look and tell me. D'ye see anybody clinging there to the far tooth of The Ghoul? My eyes ain't too good. But, if yon's a man, God rest his soul."
I riveted my gaze on the point.
There I could see as clearly as if it were only a few yards off. Even the features of the man who clung there so tenaciously I could make out.
"My God! It is Joe Clark," I exclaimed in excitement.
With the cry of a mother robbed of her young, Rita dashed down the rocks to the cove where Neil Andrews' boat lay. ”

“ One would expect to find love and harmony in the home every time away up here, but it does not always follow. Old Margaret Clark is the gentlest, dearest, most patient soul living. Andrew Clark is a good man in every way but one,—but in that one he is the Rock of Gibraltar itself, or, to go nearer the place of his birth, Ailsa Craig, that old milestone that stands defiantly between Scotland and Ireland. ”

“ Twice he thrust at me and twice I barely avoided his dextrous onslaughts. I parried as he thrust, not daring to venture a return. Our strange weapons rang out and re-echoed, time and again, in the dread stillness of the isolated armoury.
My left arm was smarting from the first wound I had received, and a few drops of blood trickled down over the back of my hand, splashing on the floor.
"You bleed!—just like a human being, George. Who would have thought it?" gloated Harry with a taunt. ”

“ I followed him slowly and silently out of the smithy, down the lane and across the road to his little, rose-covered cottage. We went round to the back of the house. Jim held up his hand for caution, as he peeped in at the kitchen window. He turned to me again, and beckoned, his big eyes blind with tears.
"Look in there," he gulped. "That's my little sister, my little Peggy; she who never has had a sorrow since mother left us. She's been like that for four hours and she gets worse when I try to comfort her." ”

“ I could hear him more easily than I had heard Rita on the beach at Neil Andrews', so long, long ago.
"My God! Bremner,—where did you come from? What d'ye want?" he shouted.
"I want you, Joe," I cried, right into his ear. "Rita sent me for you,—will you come?"
"It ain't no good," he replied despairingly;—"nobody gets off'n this hell alive."
"But we shall," I yelled. "Rita wants you. She loves you, Joe. Isn't that worth a try, anyway?" ”

“ She looked into my eyes and I know she read what was in my heart, for it was brimming over with a love for her that I had never known before, a love that overwhelmed me and left me dumb.
"George!" she whispered softly, laying her hand upon mine, "you must not, you must not."
Then she became imperious and haughty once more.
"Back to your oars, sailorman," she cried, with an astonishing effort at gaiety. "The dark is closing in and Mrs. Malmsbury will be thinking all kinds of things she would not dare say, even if she were able." ”