The Nymph and the Lamp (18 page)

Above the couch hung a map in a wooden frame. She walked over and looked at it. There lay the island like a slim bean pod in the sea, surrounded by the names of ships neatly printed with a pen, and dates going all the way back to 1804.

“Those are all the known wrecks,” Matthew said diffidently. “The lifesaving station was established in 1804. Before that the island had been the hangout of all sorts of queer characters, including a gang of wreckers. You'll hear some pretty gruesome legends of those days. The first lifesaving crew included a squad of troops. The equipment was pretty poor in those days and there wasn't much they could do except salvage what they could from the wrecks and gather up the corpses on the beach.”

“Where were the dead sailors buried?”

“Usually in the dunes above the spot where they washed ashore. They're everywhere. There are something like three hundred known wrecks and God knows how many others. If you like guessing you can go all the way back to Sir Humphrey Gilbert's
Delight.
You see bones sticking out of the sand quite often.”

Isabel glanced out of the kitchen window, at the dunes, at the blue lagoon, at the white flick of surf along the farther side of the bar. She shivered in the warmth of the kitchen. Matthew said quickly, “Of course we don't get many wrecks nowadays. A fishing schooner from time to time, and once in three or four years a steamer off its course in thick weather. Fact is, the day of sail is past. Those ships you see on the map were windjammers mostly, caught on a lee shore and unable to claw off. Steamers can get out of trouble when they see the breakers; and anyhow nowadays when a skipper's in doubt he can get his bearings by radio from the new D.F. stations on the main. What with that, and the improved depth-sounding gear, and of course the island lighthouses and wireless station, Marina's lost its old meaning altogether.”

She changed the subject. “This is the living room as well as the kitchen?”

“Yes, and the dining room as well. The chaps will come in here to get their meals.”

“It seems rather bare.”

“It's all we're supplied. But I'll order some more furniture to come down on the next trip, if you like. And anything else you want. You've only to say the word. Come and see the rest of it.”

The bathroom was freshly painted white, and she was relieved to see modern sanitary fixtures, a bath with hot and cold taps, and pipes running off to the kitchen hot-water tank.

“We got these put in during the war when the navy was running the show. Before that things were pretty crude. Here's the bedroom.”

Matthew stood aside, and she walked in with an odd flutter in her knees. The nausea had gone, nevertheless she still felt miserable, and the sight of the plain iron bed gave her a longing to shut the door upon Matthew and lie down. A pair of skins on the floor, the soft white coats of young seals killed on the sea ice in the spring, lent the only touch of luxury to the room. There was a plain oak dresser whose mirror had gone dull with damp and time, and in which she could see herself like a ghost and the figure of Matthew looming dimly in the doorway. The window had a blind but no curtains. There was a single chair. And here again were the varnished fir wainscot and the drab paint on the upper walls. The revelation of a bathroom had raised her spirits a little but now her heart sank. It was all so bleak, and the smell of new paint somehow made it worse, like the antiseptic in a sickroom that abolishes germs but at the same time removes all trace of humanity.

“Well?” he asked eagerly.

She did not answer for several awkward moments. Then, in a cold voice, “I wish I'd known, and had a bit more time to shop. I bought some sheets, an eiderdown, one or two other things; but I could have got curtains, a few pictures for the walls, some chintz to cover the furniture—that kind of thing.”

“Of course you can order anything you want by the next boat.”

“Yes.”

The
Lord Elgin
would not return for three months, an eternity. She could not keep the flat note from her voice and did not try. She turned away from him abruptly.

“Matthew, I don't quite know how to say this. I feel awfully unwell but it isn't entirely that. I might as well be frank with you. I was in a hysterical state that night I met you so late—the night of the band concert. I was almost out of my mind. Since then, in that awful berth aboard the ship, I've gone through another nightmare and I'm horribly mixed up. You must give me time to get used to all this—and to you. I've known you so very little, after all.”

She paused. Matthew said, “Yes?” quietly.

“Matthew, I want to sleep by myself. Not just tonight but until I feel more settled about everything. Do you mind?”

She continued to gaze out of the window, unwilling to meet his eyes, and she was relieved to hear his deep tone murmuring, “Of course not, my dear. I was going to suggest it,” He hesitated, and went on, “Do you remember what I said to you that night when we sat on the grass listening to the band? I said I'd ask nothing that you didn't want to give. I still mean that. And you've given me so much.”

For a moment she was ravaged with remorse. The view of the lagoon dissolved in tears. She had to fight down a wild impulse to turn and fling herself into his arms and weep, as she had wept that embarrassing morning in the grubby little railway hotel.

“I wish you'd lie down a bit,” Matthew said. “I'll hunt up Vedder and get you some tea and toast. You'll feel better for something to eat.”

“Perhaps.”

She heard his retreating footsteps and the closing of the outer door. The bed invited her. There was no counterpane and the blankets were coarse gray things, but she was gratified to find sheets underneath. They had been lately washed and aired and the pillows had fresh slips. She took off her hat and shoes, her skirt and jacket, and lay down, covering herself with a blanket. She closed her eyes and longed for sleep, but it would not come. The engine exhaust popped steadily and vagrant gusts of the sea breeze eddying along the lee side of the station brought through the open window a mingled smell of burnt gasoline and the sea. At intervals the transmitter spark rang through the thin partitions like a trumpet and she could hear the continual whirr of the machinery. Amid these sounds her mind was filled with dismal reflections and with speculations on the future, in which there was one melancholy comfort: the past few days had been so fantastic that anything to come must seem commonplace.

The outer door opened and she heard Matthew's step in the kitchen. He was alone. There was a faint rattle of chinaware. After a time she sniffed a faint smell of toast. It occurred to her suddenly that she was hungry. When the bedroom door opened she at first saw nothing but the tray in Matthew's hand, the little mound of buttered toast and the steam rising from the cup of tea. When she glanced at his face she sat up at once.

“Something's wrong. What is it?”

His blue eyes were alight with something she had never seen there. It was anger. He was furious. “Vedder's gone,” he said. He came to the bed and placed the tray on her lap. She ignored it.

“What do you mean?”

“He's skipped—bunked—the self-important ass! He waited till Skane went down to the landing place and then packed his bag and sneaked off to Main Station by the shore of the lagoon. I suppose he waited there till he knew the coast was clear and then slipped into one of the boats and went off to the ship.”

“But he can't do that, can he?”

“He's done it. Cooks are a law to themselves.”

“Didn't he say anything, or even leave a note?”

“He told young Sargent a good deal. That's partly why Sargent was so tongue-tied when we came in. He didn't know how to tell us. Seems that as soon as Skane got my message he put the whole crew to work—himself, MacGillivray, Sargent and the cook—sweeping, scrubbing, painting, polishing—raising hell, as Vedder put it. You understand, we've always kept things clean in a routine sort of way. But in a place like this you're apt to pig it a bit. The sand blows in through every crack. You get fed up, sweeping. You wear as few clothes as possible because the less you wear the less you have to wash. You have to do your own washing and you hate it, so you slop through it as quickly as you can. Once the warm weather comes you practically live in an old pair of trousers or bathing drawers, like a lot of savages. It's a fine free life in a way but of course it wouldn't do with a woman about. That was the point, I gather.

“Apart from that Vedder, like all cooks, the kind we get out here at any rate, always acted as if he was doing us a favor just by being here. We had to treat him carefully, praise his cooking, all that. I was boss of the station of course but the kitchen was Vedder's show and he never let us forget it for a minute. He even hinted to me more than once that we should swap bedrooms so he could live ‘closer to his work.' Well, when I sent word that you were coming I don't suppose Skane liked it any better than Vedder. Skane's an odd sort and doesn't like women. But he determined to have everything shipshape, and when Vedder objected to painting the kitchen Skane clipped him on the jaw and told him to get busy or by God he'd beat the tar out of him. So Vedder got busy.

“But whenever he had a private word with Sargent he cursed Skane and me and ‘the damned woman' and said he wasn't going to put up with any of us, once the ship came. And so he's gone off. I could wireless O'Dell to kick him ashore but that wouldn't do any good. I'm sorry, Isabel. I hadn't meant to tell you all this but I'm angry and talking more than I should. There's nothing to worry about. I'll get one of the lifesaving chaps at Main Station to come up and rustle the grub for us till we can get another cook on the next boat.”

“It seems to me Skane wasn't very diplomatic,” Isabel said primly. She picked up a piece of toast and munched it with an appetite that an hour ago would have been incredible. She put sugar and tinned milk in the tea, stirred it quickly and lifted the cup to her lips. Delicious!

“Oh, Skane's got a black temper when he's aroused and he's rather quick with it. Not that I blame him in this case. Skane knew I'd want things tidy and there wasn't any time for diplomacy. Is your tea all right? Shall I get you some more toast?”

“The tea's lovely. I'll make myself some more toast by and by. I'm feeling better.”

“I'm glad to hear that. Is there anything more I can do? I've got to get back to the landing and help Skane. We're supposed to handle our own supplies on the beach and it's quite a chore for one man.”

“I shall be quite all right. You go and do whatever you have to do.”

“I'll see about a chap to do the cooking and send him up.”

Matthew turned away. When he reached the kitchen door Isabel called after him. “Matthew! Wait a minute.” She put the tray aside and sprang off the bed. They met in the bedroom doorway.

“Matthew, please don't bother about a cook. I can do as well as any man you'd pick up at Main Station, I'm sure of that.”

“Oh now, look here my dear, as I said before, I don't want you…”

“Oh, don't be silly, Matthew! I must have something to do—I can't sit and twiddle my thumbs all day. Besides, ever since you told me about a cook I've hated the notion of a strange man pottering about the kitchen in my own apartment. He'd have felt embarrassed and so should I. I think Vedder was quite right—about the ‘damned woman,' I mean. I'd have said the same in his place.”

“What!” He looked at her aghast.

“I'm determined! Aside from anything else it will give me some income of my own. Isn't there an allowance of fifty dollars a month for the cook?”

“Oh yes, but look here…”

“Then I want the allowance. You must notify the office. Don't tell me it's irregular, for I know that on some other stations the wife of the O-in-C does the cooking and collects the money. It's a very sensible arrangement. Please don't say any more against it.”

Matthew regarded her steadily for a time and then nodded with the resignation of a long-married man, a gesture so absurd in view of the facts that Isabel was tempted to laugh. Away he went, and in a few moments she heard the slap of the reins and the faint grind of wheels in sand as he drove off towards the landing place. She moved into the kitchen, poured another cup of tea and made several pieces of toast. The food gave a physical satisfaction that somewhat eased the torture of her mind. Her thoughts remained confused and unhappy, but in her new responsibility there was something clear to think about and she welcomed it.

A notion occurred to her and she searched the cupboards and the kitchen drawers and at last found exactly what her intuition had suggested, a much-thumbed cook book, the secret bible of the departed Vedder. She glanced at the cheap clock on the wall and saw that in another hour young Sargent would expect his dinner. Matthew and Skane would get theirs at Main Station. She examined the small stock of tins in the food locker and the rest was so easy that she was absurdly gratified. At twelve noon, promptly, she went along the plank walk and called to Sargent through the open window that his dinner was ready. And when he told her, shyly, that he could not leave the phones she brought the dinner to him on the very tray that Matthew had carried to the bedroom. With this accomplished she returned to the kitchen and ate a good meal herself. She had not swallowed a morsel, apart from the tea and toast, since that merry dinner on board the
Lord Elgin
just before leaving Halifax, and now that the seasickness had gone she felt starved.