Veneda's face was distorted almost beyond recognition; his limbs were strangely twisted and cramped; his breath came in great gasps; only his skin retained its extraordinary pallor. Juanita understood the captain to say that the symptoms were the same as in each of the previous cases.

Between them they carried him to his bunk.

"Now, ma'am," said Boulger, turning to Juanita, "I'm sorry, but I'll just have to trouble you to go to your own berth for a while. I can't have you running any risks here. Mr. Veneda's quite safe in my hands, and I'll let you know from time to time how he gets on."

But this was not in the least to her taste. She was not prepared to let any one else pry into her private concerns.

"Oh, Captain Boulger," she began, throwing all the sweetness she could muster into her voice and looks, "it's inhuman to think that I can remain away from him; you cannot expect it; let me help you with him.

I'll be as patient and quick as possible, and I've had some experience in nursing--I really have."

"No, no, ma'am, I'd like to, but I can't allow it," Boulger replied, "it wouldn't be fair to ask me. What this devilish disease may be is more than I can tell, but as it's certain there's infection in it, I can't let any risks be run. Now, do go; you're only hindering me, and I must be looking after him, poor chap; he wants all the attention I can give him."

After this there was nothing for her but to submit, and I must do her the justice to admit that she did it with as good grace as possible.

In the security of her cabin a vague terror seized her. What if Veneda should die, and the locket be cast into the sea with him? The thought almost took her breath away. Come what might, she must have a few moments alone with the sick man, or, in the event of his death, with his body.

True to his word, at regular intervals, hour after hour, the skipper presented himself at her door with the latest bulletins of his patient's condition. "Just a leetle better"--"Just so so"--"Not much change"--"Seems a bit weaker"--"Another awful attack," was the order in which they ran. On hearing the last she broke down completely, and for some reason which I am unable to explain, fell to sobbing as if her heart would break.

Suddenly a strange craving came over her, and rising from her bunk she procured and propped her crucifix against the tiny wash-hand basin, and kneeling on the sloping floor before it, endeavoured to frame a prayer for the pa.s.sing of the man's soul. Her long black hair hung in glorious profusion about her shoulders; tears streamed down her pallid cheeks; and her lips continually faltered over the words she tried to utter.

When she had finished, her spirits recovered, and crawling back into her bed, she fell asleep.

It was long after daybreak before she awoke. The sun was shining brightly through the porthole above her bunk, and from the angle at which the schooner was lying, she knew a fresh breeze must be blowing.

Urged by a great anxiety to learn the latest news of Veneda's state, she dressed with all the haste she could command, and pa.s.sed into the cuddy.

As she entered it, the captain emerged from the berth opposite and greeted her with a mournful face. She divined the worst.

"You're going to tell me that he is dead," she said, clutching at the table.

"Ma'am, it's a thing which must come sooner or later to all of us. I won't deceive you--he is dead--pa.s.sed away in the hope of a glorious resurrection, twelve minutes afore three bells in this morning's watch.

Now, don't take on about it too much, there's a good girl, for he's better as he is than suffering the agonies he went through all night.

You couldn't wish it, I know."

"Dead! dead!" was all she could say. It seemed impossible that it could be true. The news stunned her. Though she had expected and dreaded the worst, she had no idea that it would have come so soon. What should she do now? In spite of her consternation, her own position was always uppermost in her mind. It behoved her to play her cards carefully, or she might lose everything. a.s.suming a look of hopeless grief, unable to find relief in tears, she faltered--

"Take me to him."

Without another word Boulger led the way across to the cabin, and opened the door. She prepared to enter, but he would not permit it.

"No, ma'am," he said kindly, but with determination, "as I said last night, you cannot go in; this ship's mine, and while there's infection aboard, I'm not the man to run risks. But seeing he's your husband--and I'm real grieved for you--I'll stretch a point, and let you see him from here. But I dare not pa.s.s you in."

So saying, he went in himself, and approached the figure lying stiff and stark under a blanket in the bunk. Pulling the covering aside, he allowed Juanita a view of the drawn and pallid face beneath. A terrible change had come over the man, and accustomed though she was to what are called horrible sights, she was compelled to avert her eyes. Seeing this, Boulger re-drew the blanket, and came out of the cabin, securely locking the door behind him. Then, with a fatherly air, he placed his arm around the woman's waist and led her on deck, whistling the _Dead March_ softly as they went.

In the bright sunshine the horrors of the cabin were for a time dispelled from her memory. It was a glorious morning. The wind, which on the previous night had been so weak, now blew with invigorating freshness. The schooner, under a press of sail, was ploughing her way through the green water as if conscious of her strength, turning the sea away in two snowy furrows from either bow. Dotted about on either hand were numerous small islands; and thinking it might distract her thoughts, the skipper named them to her.

Ahead, across the curling seas, and not more than eight miles distant, rose the mountains of Vanua Lava, the largest island of the Banks Group.

A few clouds rested gracefully on the topmost peaks, and so clear was the air that it was already just possible to make out the native villages ash.o.r.e. Suddenly an idea leapt into Juanita's brain; a brilliant inspiration that she wondered had not occurred to her before.

Turning to the captain, who stood beside her, and who was inwardly wondering at the vivacity of her expression, she said--

"Captain, there is one thing I should like you to get for me--I know you will not deny it--a locket he wears round his neck."

"No, ma'am; I'm real sorry, but that I can't do. He asked particularly that it should be buried with him. It's his mother's portrait, and we mustn't go against that."

Juanita could have cried with vexation. But she dared not show it. She had still another card to play.

"Where will you bury him? Not at sea, captain; oh, not at sea!"

"And pray why not at sea, ma'am?" the captain replied, pulling himself up short in a rendering of "Rock of Ages,"--"many a good man has been buried at sea."

"Of course, I know that," she sobbed; "but oh, I cannot bear to think of his poor body tossing about for all time under those cruel waves, the prey of every shark and fish! Oh! no, no, I beseech you, do not let it be at sea."

Her grief was so sincere that the captain was visibly affected.

"What would you have me do then, my dear ma'am?" he asked tenderly, thinking he would go a long way towards obliging her if she always pleaded like that.

"Why not bury him on land?" she asked, turning her tear-laden eyes towards the island they were approaching; "surely it would not be so very difficult?"

"Well," replied the captain, after a moment's consideration, "if you're so set upon it, I don't know but what it can't be done; we'll see, at any rate. Now you just come along down and have a bit of breakfast.

It'll cheer you up more than anything."

When they returned to the deck the island was abeam. The captain occupied himself with a careful study of authorities, and then selecting a spot, hove the schooner to off a thickly-wooded bluff. Sounds of carpentering came from forrard, and Boulger, who had quite const.i.tuted himself Juanita's protector, took care that she should not go too near lest she should see the work which occasioned it.

It was well into the afternoon before the arrangements for the funeral, including the digging of the grave ash.o.r.e, were completed. As soon as all was ready the captain informed Juanita, who thereupon prepared herself to accompany the party.

When the long-boat was swung overboard and brought alongside, sounds of scrambling feet came up the companion-ladder, and next moment the captain, carpenter, and two of the crew appeared, bearing the rough coffin which the carpenter had managed to knock together. With some difficulty it was lowered into the boat, and then, the captain steering, Juanita sitting beside him, and two of the hands pulling, they set out for the sh.o.r.e.

Unlike most approaches to the island, the deep water extended right up; consequently the boat was able to discharge its burden on the beach without much difficulty. Having landed, they marched to the grave, situated beneath a grove of cocoa-nut trees, some hundred yards from the sh.o.r.e. The captain, whom Nature seemed to have designed for the work, delivered a short but impressive address, and then the remains of Marcos Veneda were committed to the ground.

To Juanita it was all a whirl. She could not realize that the man had pa.s.sed out of her life--that he whom she had admired for his strength in Chili was now an inanimate substance on Vanua Lava. The whole thing had been so sudden that she had had no time to prepare herself for the shock. Yesterday he was triumphant in all the consciousness of living; to-day he was only a memory, a part of the mysterious, irreclaimable Past!

The funeral over they returned to the schooner, which at sundown weighed anchor, and resumed her voyage to Thursday Island. It certainly seemed as if Veneda was to be the last victim of the malady, for not another soul was attacked.

The following morning, after breakfast, the captain escorted Juanita to the vacant cabin, and handed her the dead man's goods and chattels. With a well-simulated air of grief she bore them to her own berth, in order to examine them. They made only a small parcel, but hunt through them as she would, no sign of either letter or locket could she find. The contents were simple in the extreme--a few clothes, a pocket-book containing twenty pounds in English gold, a tattered Horace, a knife, a ring, and a few little personal odds and ends, completed the total.

Waiting her opportunity, she again approached the captain on the subject of the locket, but he had only the same answer for her.

"What he had on him, ma'am," he solemnly declared, "I reckoned was his own property, and left there; so the locket you speak of is under three foot of earth now, back there in Vanua Lava; meaning no disrespect to you, ma'am."

This was all the information Juanita could gather on the subject. Nor did she press the matter further. Fortunately her own immediate comfort was provided for by the twenty pounds, of which she a.s.sumed undisputed possession. Had it not been for this she would have found herself placed in a very awkward situation.

The rest of the voyage needs little chronicling; suffice it that ten days later the schooner dropped her anchor off Thursday Island, her eventful journey completed.

When Captain Boulger bade Juanita farewell, he asked if she had formed any definite plans regarding her future. She hesitated before replying, but finally said that she thought of remaining in the island until she had communicated with her friends. He felt a touch of pity for her loneliness, and proffered any a.s.sistance within his power. She, however, declined it with thanks, and a day later the _Island Queen_ departed on her return voyage to Tahiti.

The same night, the Thursday Island telegraph operator was in the act of closing his office, when the following mysterious message was handed in--

"_To John Macklin, Sydney._

"Schooner arrived. Man dead. Woman remains here."