Darkness and Dawn

CHAPTER XV. PORTENTS OF WAR

Stern and Beatrice stood there a few seconds at the foot of the ladder, speechless, utterly at a loss for any words to voice the turmoil of confused thoughts awakened by this inexplicable apparition.

But all at once the girl, with a wordless cry, sank on her knees beside the vast looming bulk of the tower. She covered her face with both hands, and through her fingers the tears of joy began to flow.

“Saved--oh, we're saved!” cried she. “There are people--and they're coming for us!”

Stern glanced down at her, an inscrutable expression on his face, which had grown hard and set and ugly. His lips moved, as though he were saying something to himself; but no sound escaped them.

Then, quite suddenly, he laughed a mirthless laugh. To him vividly flashed back the memory of the flint spear-head and the gnawed leg-bone, cracked open so the marrow could be sucked out, all gashed with savage tooth-marks.

A certain creepy sensation began to develop along his spine. He felt a prickling on the nape of his neck, as the hair stirred there. Instinctively he reached for his revolver.

“So, then,” he sneered at himself, “we're up against it, after all? And all my calculations about the world being swept clear, were so much punk? Well, well, this is interesting! Oh, I see it coming, all right--good and plenty--and soon!”

But the girl interrupted his ugly thoughts as he stood there straining his eyes out into the dark.

“How splendid! How glorious!” cried she. “Only to think that we're going to see people again! Can you imagine it?”

“Hardly.”

“Why, what's the matter? You--speak as though you weren't--saved!”

“I didn't mean to. It's--just surprise, I guess.”

“Come! Let's signal them with a fire from the tower top. I'll help carry wood. Let's hurry down and run and meet them!”

Highly excited, the girl had got to her feet again, and now, clutched the engineer's arm in burning eagerness.

“Let's go! Go--at once! This minute!”

But he restrained her.

“You don't really think that would be quite prudent, do you?” asked he. “Not just yet?”

“Why not?”

“Why, can't you see? We--that is, there is no way to tell--”

“But they're coming to save us, can't you see? Somehow, somewhere, they must have caught that signal! And shall we wait, and perhaps let them lose us, after all?”

“Certainly not. But first we--why, we ought to make quite sure, you understand. Sure that they--they're really civilized, you know.”

“But they must be, to have read the wireless!”

“Oh, you're counting on that, are you? Well, that's a big assumption. It won't do. No, we've got to go slow in this game. Got to wait. Wait, and see. Easy does it!”

He tried to speak boldly and with nonchalance, but the girl's keen ear detected at least a little of the emotion that was troubling him. She kept a moment's silence, while the quivering lights drew on and on, steadily, slowly, like a host of fireflies on the bosom of the night.

“Why don't you get the telescope, and see?” she asked, at length.

“No use. It isn't a night-glass. Couldn't see a thing.”

“But anyhow, those lights mean men, don't they?”

“Naturally. But until we know what kind, we're better off right where we are. I'm willing to welcome the coming guest, all right, if he's peaceful. Otherwise, it's powder and ball, hot water, stones and things for him!”

The girl stared a moment at the engineer, while this new idea took root within her brain.

“You--you don't mean,” she faltered at last, “that these may be--savages!”

He started at the word. “What makes you think that?” he parried, striving to spare her all needless alarm.

She pondered a moment, while the fire-dots, like a shoal of swimming stars, drew slowly nearer, nearer the Manhattan shore.

“Tell me, are they savages?”

“How do I know?”

“It's easy enough to see you've got an opinion about it. You think they're savages, don't you?”

“I think it's very possible.”

“And if so--what then?”

“What then? Why, in case they aren't mighty nice and kind, there'll be a hot time in the old town, that's all. And somebody'll get hurt. It won't be us!”

Beatrice asked no more, for a minute or two, but the engineer felt her fingers tighten on his arm.

“I'm with you, till the end!” she whispered.

Another pregnant silence, while the nightwind stirred her hair and wafted the warm feminine perfume of her to his nostrils. Stern took a long, deep breath. A sort of dizziness crept over him, as from a glass of wine on an empty stomach. The Call of Woman strove to master him, but he repelled it. And, watching the creeping lights, he spoke; spoke to himself as much as to the girl; spoke, lest he think too much.

“There's a chance, a mere possibility,” said he, “that those boats, canoes, coracles or whatever they may be, belong to white people, far descendants of the few suppositions survivors of the cataclysm. There's some slight chance that these people may be civilized, or partly so.

“Why they're coming across the Hudson, at this time o' night, with what object and to what place, we can't even guess. All we can do is wait, and watch and--be ready for anything.”

“For anything!” she echoed. “You've seen me shoot! You know!”

He took her hand, and pressed it. And silence fell again, as the long vigil started, there in the shadow of the tower, on the roof.

For some quarter of an hour, neither spoke. Then at last, said Stern:

“See, now! The lights seem to be winking out. The canoes must have come close in toward the shore of the island. They're being masked behind the trees. The people--whoever they are--will be landing directly now!”

“And then?”

“Wait and see!”

They resigned themselves to patience. The girl's breath came quickly, as she watched. Even the engineer felt his heart throb with accelerated haste.

Now, far in the east, dim over the flat and dreary ruins of Long Island, the sky began to silver, through a thin veil of cirrus cloud. A pallid moon was rising. Far below, a breeze stirred the tree-fronds in Madison Forest. A bat staggered drunkenly about the tower, then reeled away into the gloom; and, high aloft, an owl uttered its melancholy plaint.

Beatrice shuddered.

“They'll be here pretty soon!” whispered she. “Hadn't we better go down, and get our guns? In case--”

“Time enough,” he answered. “Wait a while.”

“Hark! What's that?” she exclaimed suddenly, holding her breath.

Off to northward, dull, muffled, all but inaudible, they both heard a rhythmic pulsing, strangely barbaric.

“Heavens!” ejaculated Stern. “War-drums! Tom-toms, as I live!”