CHAPTER VII
In the first shock of stunned surprise, Indra sat staring foolishly at Franklin as he groveled in the sand and wept like a heartbroken child. Then compassion and common sense told her what to do; she moved swiftly to his side and threw her arms around his heaving shoulders.
“Walter!” she cried. “You’re all right — there’s nothing to be afraid of!”
The words seemed flat and foolish even as she uttered them, but they were the best she had to offer. Franklin did not seem to hear; he was still trembling uncontrollably, still clinging to the tree with desperate determination. It was pitiful to see a man reduced to such a state of abject fear, so robbed of all dignity and pride. As Indra crouched over him, she realized that between his sobs he was calling a name — and even at such a moment as this she could not repress a stab of jealousy. For it was the name of a woman; over and over again, in a voice so low as to be barely audible, Franklin would whisper “Irene!” and then be convulsed by a fresh paroxysm of weeping.
There was something here beyond Indra’s slight knowledge of medicine. She hesitated for a moment, then hurried to the catamaran and broke open its little first-aid kit. It contained a vial of potent painkilling capsules, prominently labeled ONLY ONE TO BE TAKEN AT ANY TIME, and with some difficulty she managed to force one of these into Franklin’s mouth. Then she held him in her arms while his tremors slowly subsided and the violence of the attack ebbed away.
It is hard to draw any line between compassion and love. If such a division exists, Indra crossed it during this silent vigil. Franklin’s loss of manhood had not disgusted her; she knew that something terrible indeed must have happened in his past to bring him to this state. Whatever it was, her own future would not be complete unless she could help him fight it.
Presently Franklin was quiet, though apparently still conscious. He did not resist when she rolled him over so that his face was no longer half-buried in the sand, and he relaxed his frenzied grip upon the tree. But his eyes were empty, and his mouth still moved silently though no words came from it.
“We’re going home,” whispered Indra, as if soothing a frightened child. “Come along — it’s all right now.”
She helped him to his feet, and he rose unresistingly. He even assisted her, in a mechanical way, to pack their equipment and to push the catamaran off the beach. He seemed nearly normal again, except that he would not speak and there was a sadness in his eyes that tore at Indra’s heart.
They left the island under both sail and power, for Indra was determined to waste no time. Even now it had not occurred to her that she might be in any personal danger, so many miles from any help, with a man who might be mad. Her only concern was to get Franklin back to medical care as quickly as she could.
The light was failing fast; the Sun had already touched the horizon and darkness was massing in the east. Beacons on the mainland and the surrounding islands began, one by one, to spring to life. And, more brilliant than any of them, there in the west was Venus, which had somehow caused all this trouble…
Presently Franklin spoke, his words forced but perfectly rational.
“I’m very sorry about this, Indra,” he said. “I’m afraid I spoiled your trip.”
“Don’t be silly,” she answered. “It wasn’t your fault. Just take it easy — don’t talk unless you want to.” He relapsed into silence, and spoke no more for the rest of the voyage. When Indra reached out to hold his hand again, he stiffened defensively in a way which said, without actually rejecting her, that he would prefer no such contact. She felt hurt, but obeyed his unspoken request. In any event, she was busy enough picking out the beacons as she made the tricky passage between the reefs.
She had not intended to be out as late as this, even though the rising Moon was now flooding the sea with light. The wind had freshened, and all too close at hand the breakers along the Wistari Reef were appearing and vanishing in deadly lines of luminous, ghostly white. She kept one eye on them, and the other on the winking beacon that marked the end of the Heron jetty. Not until she could see the jetty itself and make out the details of the island was she able to relax and give her attention once more to Franklin.
He appeared almost normal again when they had berthed the catamaran and walked back to the lab. Indra could not see his expression, for there were no lights here on this part of the beach, and the palms shaded them from the Moon. As far as she could tell, his voice was under full control when he bade her good night.
“Thank you for everything, Indra. No one could have done more.”
“Let me take you to Dr. Myers right away. You’ve got to see him.”
“No — there’s nothing he can do. I’m quite all right now — it won’t happen again.”
“I still think you should see him. I’ll take you to your room and then go and call him.”
Franklin shook his head violently.
“That’s one thing I don’t want you to do. Promise me you won’t call him.”
Sorely troubled, Indra debated with her conscience. The wisest thing to do, she was sure, was to make the promise — and then to break it. Yet if she did so, Franklin might never forgive her. In the end, she compromised.
“Will you go and see him yourself, if you won’t let me take you?”
Franklin hesitated before answering. It seemed a shame that his parting words with this girl, whom he might have loved, should be a lie. But in the drugged calm that had come upon him now he knew what he must do.
“I’ll call him in the morning — and thanks again.” Then he broke away, with a fierce finality, before Indra could question him further.
She watched him disappear into the darkness, along the path that led to the training and administration section. Happiness and anxiety were contending for her soul — happiness because she had found love, anxiety because it was threatened by forces she did not understand. The anxiety resolved itself into a single nagging fear: Should she have insisted, even against his will, that Franklin see Dr. Myers at once?
She would have had no doubt of the answer could she have watched Franklin double back through the moonlit forest and make his way, like a man in a waking dream, to the dock from which had begun all his journeys down into the sea.
The rational part of his mind was now merely the passive tool of his emotions, and they were set upon a single goal. He had been hurt too badly for reason to control him now; like an injured animal, he could think of nothing but the abating of his pain. He was seeking the only place where for a little while he had found peace and contentment.
The jetty was deserted as he made the long, lonely walk out to the edge of the reef. Down in the submarine hangar, twenty feet below the water line, he made his final preparations with as much care as he had ever done on his many earlier trips. He felt a fleeting sense of guilt at robbing the bureau of some fairly valuable equipment and still more valuable training time; but it was not his fault that he had no other choice.
Very quietly, the torp slipped out beneath the submerged archway and set course for the open sea. It was the first time that Franklin had ever been out at night; only the fully enclosed subs operated after darkness, for night navigation involved dangers which it was foolhardy for unprotected men to face. That was the least of Franklin’s worries as he set the course he remembered so well and headed out into the channel that would lead him to the sea.
Part of the pain, but none of the determination, lifted from his mind. This was where he belonged; this was where he had found happiness. This was where he would find oblivion.