Harold Bindloss - Wyndham's Pal

"But it's a long ocean passage and an unhealthy coast," Flora remarked, with a note of strain in her voice. Altogether she tried to be calm.

"All the same, I must go, and go soon," Wyndham replied.

He stopped because he knew he had said enough, and Flora pondered. She would miss him much and his going forced her to front a crisis she would sooner have put off. She knew he loved her and he had a strange fascination; he stood for romance and adventure, but she was fastidiously honest and now and then he jarred. She felt vaguely that there was something about him she did not like.

In the meantime, Marston and his companion came by again. The girl was a friend of Flora's, but she passed without a glance and Flora knew she disapproved. Somehow she wished her lover was like Bob Marston. Bob had no fascination; indeed, he was rather dull, but he was frank and honest and one trusted him. She knew she ought to join him and Mabel; there was danger in stopping, but she did not go. Harry would sail at daybreak and she would be lonely afterwards.

Marston and the girl went on, the music stopped, and Flora heard the drowsy splash of the tide. The moonlight sparkled on the strait and she felt a strange longing to be rash. One missed much unless one had pluck. Then Wyndham put his hand on her arm and gave her a long ardent look.

"I am going away," he said. "I must go. For your sake, I must try to mend my damaged inheritance. Will you marry me when I come back?"

Flora hesitated until he put his arm round her and her doubts vanished. Romance conquered and passion swept her away. She yielded when he drew her to him, and gave back his kiss. Then he let her go as people came towards them and they crossed the lawn.

"My dear!" he said triumphantly. "I can conquer all my difficulties now and make your friends approve. You have given me a power I never had; I feel I can't be stopped."

His eyes were very bright and he lifted his head. He looked unconquerable and his confidence was flattering. Flora's doubts had gone. He was her acknowledged lover and she was very staunch.

"I must see your father when he gets back to town," Wyndham said presently. "The committee will keep him until too late to-night."

"Yes," said Flora with faint misgivings, "you must see him soon."

Wyndham's eyes twinkled. "It's possible he will get a jolt. I'll own I was half afraid; but I fear nothing now."

"He loves me," Flora answered with a quiet look, and Wyndham said nothing, but pressed her arm.

They left the castle grounds for the quiet beach, and in the meantime Mabel Hilliard and Marston leaned against the rails on the pier. For a time the girl watched the water foam among the pillars and then looked up.

"Why didn't you speak to Wyndham?" she asked.

Marston smiled. "I think the reason was plain; Harry didn't want us. Why didn't you speak to Flora?"

Mabel made a sign of impatience. "I wanted to, but this would have been different. Flora wouldn't have suspected you were meddling."

"I see," said Marston. "I'm known to be dull; but I'm not so dull that I miss your meaning. Well, you know Harry Wyndham's my friend."

They were lovers who used no reserve, and Mabel did not hesitate.

"Flora's my friend," she said. "Do you always trust Wyndham?"

"If I didn't trust him, he wouldn't be my friend."

"In some ways, you're very nice, Bob. But I'm afraid. Flora's attracted by Wyndham. I wish she were not."

"Why? Don't you like Harry?"

"It's rather that I love Flora. She's sincere and proud. She's fastidious; I think I mean she's scrupulously honorable."

"Then you imply that Harry is not?" Marston asked, with a touch of sternness.

"No, I don't altogether imply this; but I feel he is not the man for Flora."

"Well," said Marston quietly, "I have known Harry long. He's clever and generous; he has pluck and when strain comes is his best. I know what some folks think about him, and Harry knows his handicap. The Wyndhams were rather a wild lot, the family business was drifting on the rocks, and the character of its recent head was not good. All this is a load for Harry, but he'll run straight, and I feel my job is to help him out."

Mabel was not much comforted, but she gave him a smile.

"If he is going to marry Flora, I want you to help him," she replied.

They went off and some time afterwards Wyndham came along the pier. The fireworks were over and the crowd had gone, but a group of men stood about some steps that led to a narrow stage where the yachts' boats were moored. The tide ran fast, foaming against the iron pillars, but the promenade above threw a dark shadow on the water. Wyndham stopped at the steps and tried to see if Red Rose 's dinghy was tied among the rest. It was too dark; all he could distinguish was a row of boats that swung about. Then young Chisholm pushed past.

"The weed on the steps is slippery and I'm not going down. A yachtsman jumps into a punt," he said.

A yacht's punt is small and generally unstable, and to jump on board needs skill. Marston came up and seized Chisholm's shoulder.

"Don't be a fool, Jack!" he said. "It's six or seven feet. If you don't capsize her, you'll go through the bottom."

"Think I can't jump six feet?" the lad exclaimed, and Wyndham imagined he had drunk some wine at the committee supper. "Anyhow, I'll try."

He shook off Marston's hand and leaped. His dark figure vanished and there was a splash below. Marston and the others climbed down the steps, but Wyndham jumped. He went under water and knew the risk he ran when he came up; he had known when he made the plunge. The tide swept him past the boats and broke angrily among the ironwork. One might get entangled and pulled down, and if a punt came to help, she would probably capsize when the current drove her against a brace.

For a moment or two he drifted, and then saw something dark wash about in a wedge of foam. It was Chisholm, clinging to an iron and trying to keep his head above water.

"Let go! I'll pick you up on the other side," shouted Wyndham, and the current swept them under a beam.

Then he grasped the lad's shoulder and steered him between two pillars. The splash of oars indicated that a boat was pulling round the pier. Wyndham's arm struck a cross-bar and next moment something caught his leg, but he went clear and, dragging Chisholm with him, drifted into the moonlight. He felt safe now; all they need do was to wait until the boat arrived. They were a hundred yards from the pier when she came up and Marston leaned over the bow.

"Let me have him," he said. "Back her and sit steady, Tom."

Wyndham knew he could trust Bob and let Chisholm go. Marston dragged him on board and then balanced the boat while Wyndham lifted himself over the stern. Chisholm did not seem much the worse, for he began to squeeze the water from his clothes and laughed.

"Trouble was, the punt I jumped for wasn't there," he said. "Imagine I owe you something, Wyndham. The other fellows couldn't have got me while I stuck to the brace, and if I'd let go, I'd have gone under the irons."

"That's all right!" Wyndham remarked. "You'll look before you jump another time."

They put Chisholm on board a steam yacht and when they reached Red Rose Marston said, "It was lucky for Jack you were about. We couldn't have got in between the braces with the punt."

"It was a stroke of luck for both of us," Wyndham replied with a laugh.

Commodore Chisholm sat in his smoking-room and knitted his brows while Wyndham talked. The room was small and plainly furnished and the books on the shelves were all about the sea; narratives of old explorers' voyages, works on naval tactics, and yacht registers. Wyndham spoke fast and with marked eagerness, and when he was moved he had a strange power of persuasion, but now and then Chisholm frowned. Although he knew he must give way, he hesitated. There was something romantic and, so to speak, exotic, about Wyndham, and Chisholm liked sober English calm.