him only for the fraction of a second, a young man, tall and slim and very blond, in a shirt open at the neck and riding-breeches, his head bared to the storm. The water streamed off his face and clothing; but he stood perfectly still in an attitude of reverence. In that wild setting of tempest-swept rocks the apparition seemed like some spectre of the Brocken. Or one might have thought that the storm had summoned forth the Unknown himself from his grave.
The vision fairly staggered me; for my mind was imbued with the idea that the island was uninhabited. But my brain, keyed up by the events of the day, did not dwell for an instant on any supernatural explanation of the apparition. I promptly asked myself whether, after all, there were people living on the island or whether the man I had seen had, like ourselves, landed from some passing ship.
But, then, without warning, there came an ear-shattering, metallic crash, as though a big shell had exploded beside us, the earth shook and a perfect tornado of wind and water descended upon the clearing, clawing and tearing at the hut until it seemed as though the beams of the flimsy structure to which we desperately clung would be wrenched from our grasp. The inky-black sky appeared to split across in a jagged band of light which again showed up the clearing as bright as day. But now the tall wooden cross stood aloft in solitary majesty once more. The figure at the graveside had vanished and the clearing was entirely deserted. I asked myself whether the apparition had not, after all, been the figment of my imagination. Garth had seemingly remarked nothing, so I resolved to say nothing about it unless he should ask me.
But now, amid the grumbling and rumbling of the thunder, receding into the distance, the storm was passing. The air reeked with the stench of sulphur, and I guessed that the appalling crash we had heard had marked the fall of a thunderbolt. Slowly the light was coming back, and, though the rain yet descended in torrents, the downpour was much less heavy.
We were in a sorry plight, the pair of us. Our thin garments clung to us like wet swimming-suits and our teeth chattered in our heads.
“We appear to have timed things very badly,” grumbled Garth, wringing the water out of a corner of his tussore jacket. “We had plenty of warning of this storm. I should have thought we might have managed to get back to the camp in time to escape it...”
I wiped the water out of my eyes and grinned.
“Oh,” I said lightly, “a ducking won't hurt us! Look, the rain's stopping already...”
“I'm not complaining about getting wet,” observed Garth, with an air of dignity which went ill with his bedraggled appearance—he was squatting on his hunkers squeezing out his hat—“I can, I believe, put up with the hardships of an expedition like this as well as any man. But I do think the—er—staff work this afternoon leaves something to be desired. To be wet to the skin an hour's tramp from camp may amuse you, Major Okewood, but the prospect of a heavy chill does not strike me as being funny in the least!”
In high dudgeon he placed upon his head the shapeless mass of soggy felt which had once been a hat.
“I vote we make a move for the camp,” he proposed. “That is, if anything is left of it. I should not be in the least surprised to find the cave under water, our stores ruined, and Carstairs drowned—or struck by lightning, as like as not. I don't wish to seem inquisitive, Major Okewood, but might I enquire what progress this afternoon's unfortunate jaunt has brought to your investigations?”
I was rather nettled by the line he was taking and the way he manhandled my name irritated me.
“You needn't worry,” I retorted curtly. “I'm perfectly satisfied so far!”
“Indeed,” replied the baronet—he was struggling to free himself from a giant creeper which had firmly fixed itself about his sodden clothes. “I'm sorry I cannot share your optimism. But then I'm wholly in the dark—maybe, it's just as well—about this infernal wild-goose chase. Damn it,” he cried suddenly, “can't you lend me a hand to get this blasted root off my legs?”
I hastened to release him, fuming and fretful.
“We shall be home in no time,” I said soothingly to humour him, for he was like a spoilt child, “and you'll see what marvels Carstairs has accomplished in the way of making us comfortable. And you needn't worry about the cave. It's splendidly sheltered. Not a drop of water will get in!”
Night was falling by the time we emerged from the steamy atmosphere of the sopping woods and made for the faint glow of light which shone from our cave. Carstairs met us at the entrance. He had fully justified my prophecy to Garth.