A Rogue by Compulsion by Victor Bridges (top fiction books of all time TXT) 📖

wants the dawn, but we can't cheat life. Suppose we fail—suppose there's only death or prison in front of me. It will be hard enough now, but if—"

I broke off, and with a little sob Joyce sat up and felt for my hand.

"You're right, darling," she said; "but oh, my dear, my dear!" She lifted up my hand and passed it softly backwards and forwards across her eyes. Then, with a little laugh that had tears close behind it, she added: "Do you know, my Neil, I'm conceited enough to think you're rather wonderful."

I bent down and kissed her with infinite tenderness.

"I am, Joyce," I said. "Exactly how wonderful you'll never know."

Then I lifted her up in my arms, and we went out of the cabin into the cool darkness of the night.

"I'll row myself ashore," I said, "and leave the dinghy on the beach.
I shall be back about four o'clock, if that's not too early for you.
We ought to get our explosion over before there's any one about."

Joyce nodded. "I don't mind how early you come. The sooner the better."

"Try and get some sleep," I added; "you'll be tired out tomorrow if you don't."

"I'll try," said Joyce simply; "but I don't think I shall. I'm not even sure I want to."

I kissed her once more, and slipping down into the dinghy, pulled off for the shore. Everything around was dark and silent—the faint splash of my oars alone breaking the utter stillness. Landing at my usual spot, more by luck than judgment, I tugged the boat up out of reach of the tide, and then, turning round, waved good-night to the Betty.

It was too dark to see anything, but I think Joyce sent me back my message.

CHAPTER XIX LAUNCHING A NEW INVENTION

The eastern sky was just flushing into light when I got back to the creek at four o'clock. It was a beautiful morning—cool and still—with the sweet freshness of early dawn in the air, and the promise of a long unclouded day of spring sunshine.

I tugged the dinghy down to the water, and pushed off for the Betty, which looked strangely small and unreal lying there in the dim, mysterious twilight. The sound I made as I drew near must have reached Joyce's ears. She was up on deck in a moment, fully dressed, and with her hair twisted into a long bronze plait that hung down some way below her waist. She looked as fresh and fair as the dawn itself.

"Beautifully punctual," she called out over the side. "I knew you would be, so I started getting breakfast."

I caught hold of the gunwale and scrambled on board.

"It's like living at the Savoy," I said. "Breakfast was a luxury that had never entered my head."

"Well, it's going to now," she returned, "unless you're in too great a hurry to start. It's all ready in the cabin."

"We can spare ten minutes certainly," I said. "Experiments should always be made on a full body."

I tied up the dinghy and followed her inside, where the table was decorated with bread and butter and the remnants of the cold pheasant, while a kettle hissed away cheerfully on the Primus.

"I don't believe you've been to bed at all, Joyce," I said. "And yet you look as if you'd just slipped out of Paradise by accident."

She laughed, and putting her hand in my side-pocket, took out my handkerchief to lift off the kettle with.

"I didn't want to sleep," she said. "I was too happy, and too miserable. It's the widest-awake mixture I ever tried." Then, picking up the teapot, she added curiously: "Where's the powder? I expected to see you arrive with a large keg over your shoulder."

I sat down at the table and produced a couple of glass flasks, tightly corked.

"Here you are," I said. "This is ordinary gunpowder, and this other one's my stuff. It looks harmless enough, doesn't it?"

Joyce took both flasks and examined them with interest. "You've not brought very much of it," she said. "I was hoping we were going to have a really big blow-up."

"It will be big enough," I returned consolingly, "unless I've made a mistake."

"Where are you going to do it?" she asked.

"Somewhere at the back of Canvey Island," I said. "There's no one to wake up there except the sea-gulls, and we can be out of sight round the corner before it explodes. I've got about twenty feet of fuse, which will give us at least a quarter of an hour to get away in."

"What fun!" exclaimed Joyce. "I feel just like an anarchist or something; and it's lovely to know that one's launching a new invention. We ought to have kept that bottle of champagne to christen it with."

"Yes," I said regretfully; "it was the real christening brand too."

There was a short silence. "I've thought of a name for it," cried Joyce suddenly. "The powder, I mean. We'll call it Lyndonite. It sounds like something that goes off with a bang, doesn't it?"

I laughed. "It would probably suggest that to the prison authorities,"
I said. "Anyhow, Lyndonite it shall be."

We finished breakfast, and going up on deck I proceeded to haul in the anchor, while Joyce stowed away the crockery and provisions below. For once in a way the engine started without much difficulty, and as the tide was running out fast it didn't take us very long to reach the mouth of the creek.

Once outside, I set a course down stream as close to the northern shore as I dared go. Except for a rusty-looking steam tramp we had the whole river to ourselves, not even a solitary barge breaking the long stretch of grey water. One by one the old landmarks—Mucking Lighthouse, the Thames Cattle Wharf, and Hole Haven—were left behind, and at last the entrance to the creek that runs round behind Canvey Island came into sight.

One would never accuse it of being a cheerful, bustling sort of place at the best of times, but at five o'clock in the morning it seemed the very picture of uninhabited desolation. A better locality in which to enjoy a little quiet practice with new explosives it would be difficult to imagine.

I navigated the Betty in rather gingerly, for it was over three years since I had visited the spot. Joyce kept on sounding diligently with the lead either side of the boat, and at last we brought up in about one and a half fathom, just comfortably out of sight of the main stream.

"This will do nicely," I said. "We'll turn her round first, and then
I'll row into the bank and fix things up under that tree over there.
We can be back in the river before anything happens."

"Can't we stop and watch?" asked Joyce. "I should love to see it go off."

I shook my head. "Unless I've made a mistake," I said, "it will be much healthier round the corner. We'll come back and see what's happened afterwards."

By the aid of some delicate manoeuvring I brought the Betty round, and then getting into the dinghy pulled myself ashore.

It was quite unnecessary for my experiment to make any complicated preparations. All I had to do was to dig a hole in the bank with a trowel that I had brought for the purpose, empty my stuff into that, and tip in the gunpowder on top. When I had finished I covered the whole thing over with earth, leaving a clear passage for the fuse, and then lighting the end of the latter, jumped back into the boat and pulled off rapidly for the Betty.

We didn't waste any time dawdling about. Joyce seized the painter as I climbed on board, and hurrying to the tiller I started off down the creek as fast as we could go, taking very particular pains not to run aground.

We had reached the mouth, and I was swinging her round into the main river, when a sudden rumbling roar disturbed the peacefulness of the dawn. Joyce, who was staring out over the stern, gave a little startled cry, and glancing hastily back I was just in time to see a disintegrated-looking tree soaring gaily up into the air in the midst of a huge column of dust and smoke. The next moment a rain of falling fragments of earth and wood came splashing down into the water—a few stray pieces actually reaching the Betty, which rocked vigorously as a minature tidal wave swept after us up the creek.

I put down my helm and brought her round so as to face the stricken field.

"We seem to have done it, Joyce," I observed with some contentment.

She gave a little gasping sort of laugh. "It was splendid!" she said.
"But, oh, Neil, what appalling stuff it must be! It's blown up half
Canvey Island!"

"Never mind," I said cheerfully. "There are plenty of other islands left. Let's get into the dinghy and see what the damage really amounts to. I fancy it's fairly useful."

We anchored the Betty, and then pulled up the creek towards the scene of the explosion, where a gaping aperture in the bank was plainly visible. As we drew near I saw that it extended, roughly speaking, in a half-circle of perhaps twenty yards diameter. The whole of this, which had previously been a solid bank of grass and earth, was now nothing but a muddy pool. Of the unfortunate tree which had marked the site there was not a vestige remaining.

I regarded it all from the boat with the complacent pride of a successful inventor. "It's even better than I expected, Joyce," I said. "If one can do this with three-quarters of a pound, just fancy the effect of a couple of hundredweight. It would shift half London."

Joyce nodded. "They'll be more anxious than ever to get hold of it, when they know," she said. "What are you going to do? Write and tell McMurtrie that you've succeeded?"

"I haven't quite decided," I answered. "I shall wait till tomorrow or the next day, anyhow. I want to hear what Sonia has got to say first." Then, backing away the boat, I added: "We'd better get out of this as soon as we can. It's just possible some one may have heard the explosion and come pushing along to find out what's the matter. People are so horribly inquisitive."

Joyce laughed. "It would be rather awkward, wouldn't it? We couldn't very well say it was an earthquake. It looks too neat and tidy."

Fortunately for us, if there was any one in the neighbourhood who had heard the noise, they were either too lazy or too incurious to investigate the cause. We got back on board the Betty and took her out into the main stream without seeing a sign of any one except ourselves. The hull of the steam tramp was just visible in the far distance, but except for that the river was still pleasantly deserted.

"What shall we do now, Joyce?" I asked. "It seems to me that this is an occasion which distinctly requires celebrating."

Joyce thought for a moment. "Let's go for a long sail," she suggested, "and then put in at Southend and have asparagus for lunch."

I looked at her with affectionate approval. "You always have beautiful ideas," I said. Then a sudden inspiration seized me. "I've got it!" I cried. "What do you say to running down to Sheppey and paying a call on our German pals?"

Joyce's blue eyes sparkled. "It would be lovely," she said, with a deep breath; "but dare we risk it?"

"There's no risk," I rejoined. "When I said 'pay a call,' I didn't mean it quite literally. My idea was to cruise along the coast and just find out exactly where their precious bungalow is, and what they do with that launch of theirs when they're not swamping inquisitive boatmen. It's the sort of information that might turn out useful."

Joyce nodded. "We'll go," she said briefly. "What about the tide?"

"Oh, the tide doesn't matter," I replied. "It will be dead out by the time we get to Southend; but we only draw about three foot six, and we can cut across through the Jenkin Swatch. There's water enough off Sheppey to float a battleship."

It was the work of a few minutes to pull in the anchor and haul up the sails, which filled immediately to a slight breeze that had just sprung up from the west. Leaving a