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diff --git a/1055-0.txt b/1055-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..59f0ed4 --- /dev/null +++ b/1055-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7580 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1055 *** + + [Picture: Book cover] + + + + + + ’TWIXT LAND & SEA + TALES + + + BY + JOSEPH CONRAD + + A SMILE OF FORTUNE + + THE SECRET SHARER + + FREYA OF THE SEVEN + ISLES + + [Picture: Decorative graphic] + + _Life is a tragic folly_ + _Let us laugh and be jolly_ + _Away with melancholy_ + _Bring me a branch of holly_ + _Life is a tragic folly_ + + A. SYMONS. + + * * * * * + + LONDON: J. M. DENT & SONS LTD. + ALDINE HOUSE, COVENT GARDEN · 1920 + +FIRST EDITION _October_ 1912 +REPRINTED _November_ 1912; _January_ 1913; _November_ 1918; + _December_ 1920 + + * * * * * + + _All rights reserved_ + + * * * * * + + TO + CAPTAIN C. M. MARRIS + LATE MASTER AND OWNER + OF THE + ARABY MAID: ARCHIPELAGO TRADER + IN MEMORY OF THOSE + OLD DAYS OF ADVENTURE + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE +A Smile of Fortune 1 +The Secret Sharer 99 +Freya of the Seven Isles 161 + + + + +A SMILE OF FORTUNE +HARBOUR STORY + + +EVER since the sun rose I had been looking ahead. The ship glided gently +in smooth water. After a sixty days’ passage I was anxious to make my +landfall, a fertile and beautiful island of the tropics. The more +enthusiastic of its inhabitants delight in describing it as the “Pearl of +the Ocean.” Well, let us call it the “Pearl.” It’s a good name. A +pearl distilling much sweetness upon the world. + +This is only a way of telling you that first-rate sugar-cane is grown +there. All the population of the Pearl lives for it and by it. Sugar is +their daily bread, as it were. And I was coming to them for a cargo of +sugar in the hope of the crop having been good and of the freights being +high. + +Mr. Burns, my chief mate, made out the land first; and very soon I became +entranced by this blue, pinnacled apparition, almost transparent against +the light of the sky, a mere emanation, the astral body of an island +risen to greet me from afar. It is a rare phenomenon, such a sight of +the Pearl at sixty miles off. And I wondered half seriously whether it +was a good omen, whether what would meet me in that island would be as +luckily exceptional as this beautiful, dreamlike vision so very few +seamen have been privileged to behold. + +But horrid thoughts of business interfered with my enjoyment of an +accomplished passage. I was anxious for success and I wished, too, to do +justice to the flattering latitude of my owners’ instructions contained +in one noble phrase: “We leave it to you to do the best you can with the +ship.” . . . All the world being thus given me for a stage, my abilities +appeared to me no bigger than a pinhead. + +Meantime the wind dropped, and Mr. Burns began to make disagreeable +remarks about my usual bad luck. I believe it was his devotion for me +which made him critically outspoken on every occasion. All the same, I +would not have put up with his humours if it had not been my lot at one +time to nurse him through a desperate illness at sea. After snatching +him out of the jaws of death, so to speak, it would have been absurd to +throw away such an efficient officer. But sometimes I wished he would +dismiss himself. + +We were late in closing in with the land, and had to anchor outside the +harbour till next day. An unpleasant and unrestful night followed. In +this roadstead, strange to us both, Burns and I remained on deck almost +all the time. Clouds swirled down the porphyry crags under which we lay. +The rising wind made a great bullying noise amongst the naked spars, with +interludes of sad moaning. I remarked that we had been in luck to fetch +the anchorage before dark. It would have been a nasty, anxious night to +hang off a harbour under canvas. But my chief mate was uncompromising in +his attitude. + +“Luck, you call it, sir! Ay—our usual luck. The sort of luck to thank +God it’s no worse!” + +And so he fretted through the dark hours, while I drew on my fund of +philosophy. Ah, but it was an exasperating, weary, endless night, to be +lying at anchor close under that black coast! The agitated water made +snarling sounds all round the ship. At times a wild gust of wind out of +a gully high up on the cliffs struck on our rigging a harsh and plaintive +note like the wail of a forsaken soul. + + + +CHAPTER I + + +By half-past seven in the morning, the ship being then inside the harbour +at last and moored within a long stone’s-throw from the quay, my stock of +philosophy was nearly exhausted. I was dressing hurriedly in my cabin +when the steward came tripping in with a morning suit over his arm. + +Hungry, tired, and depressed, with my head engaged inside a white shirt +irritatingly stuck together by too much starch, I desired him peevishly +to “heave round with that breakfast.” I wanted to get ashore as soon as +possible. + +“Yes, sir. Ready at eight, sir. There’s a gentleman from the shore +waiting to speak to you, sir.” + +This statement was curiously slurred over. I dragged the shirt violently +over my head and emerged staring. + +“So early!” I cried. “Who’s he? What does he want?” + +On coming in from sea one has to pick up the conditions of an utterly +unrelated existence. Every little event at first has the peculiar +emphasis of novelty. I was greatly surprised by that early caller; but +there was no reason for my steward to look so particularly foolish. + +“Didn’t you ask for the name?” I inquired in a stern tone. + +“His name’s Jacobus, I believe,” he mumbled shamefacedly. + +“Mr. Jacobus!” I exclaimed loudly, more surprised than ever, but with a +total change of feeling. “Why couldn’t you say so at once?” + +But the fellow had scuttled out of my room. Through the momentarily +opened door I had a glimpse of a tall, stout man standing in the cuddy by +the table on which the cloth was already laid; a “harbour” table-cloth, +stainless and dazzlingly white. So far good. + +I shouted courteously through the closed door, that I was dressing and +would be with him in a moment. In return the assurance that there was no +hurry reached me in the visitor’s deep, quiet undertone. His time was my +own. He dared say I would give him a cup of coffee presently. + +“I am afraid you will have a poor breakfast,” I cried apologetically. +“We have been sixty-one days at sea, you know.” + +A quiet little laugh, with a “That’ll be all right, Captain,” was his +answer. All this, words, intonation, the glimpsed attitude of the man in +the cuddy, had an unexpected character, a something friendly in +it—propitiatory. And my surprise was not diminished thereby. What did +this call mean? Was it the sign of some dark design against my +commercial innocence? + +Ah! These commercial interests—spoiling the finest life under the sun. +Why must the sea be used for trade—and for war as well? Why kill and +traffic on it, pursuing selfish aims of no great importance after all? +It would have been so much nicer just to sail about with here and there a +port and a bit of land to stretch one’s legs on, buy a few books and get +a change of cooking for a while. But, living in a world more or less +homicidal and desperately mercantile, it was plainly my duty to make the +best of its opportunities. + +My owners’ letter had left it to me, as I have said before, to do my best +for the ship, according to my own judgment. But it contained also a +postscript worded somewhat as follows: + +“Without meaning to interfere with your liberty of action we are writing +by the outgoing mail to some of our business friends there who may be of +assistance to you. We desire you particularly to call on Mr. Jacobus, a +prominent merchant and charterer. Should you hit it off with him he may +be able to put you in the way of profitable employment for the ship.” + +Hit it off! Here was the prominent creature absolutely on board asking +for the favour of a cup of coffee! And life not being a fairy-tale the +improbability of the event almost shocked me. Had I discovered an +enchanted nook of the earth where wealthy merchants rush fasting on board +ships before they are fairly moored? Was this white magic or merely some +black trick of trade? I came in the end (while making the bow of my tie) +to suspect that perhaps I did not get the name right. I had been +thinking of the prominent Mr. Jacobus pretty frequently during the +passage and my hearing might have been deceived by some remote similarity +of sound. . . The steward might have said Antrobus—or maybe Jackson. + +But coming out of my stateroom with an interrogative “Mr. Jacobus?” I was +met by a quiet “Yes,” uttered with a gentle smile. The “yes” was rather +perfunctory. He did not seem to make much of the fact that he was Mr. +Jacobus. I took stock of a big, pale face, hair thin on the top, +whiskers also thin, of a faded nondescript colour, heavy eyelids. The +thick, smooth lips in repose looked as if glued together. The smile was +faint. A heavy, tranquil man. I named my two officers, who just then +came down to breakfast; but why Mr. Burns’s silent demeanour should +suggest suppressed indignation I could not understand. + +While we were taking our seats round the table some disconnected words of +an altercation going on in the companionway reached my ear. A stranger +apparently wanted to come down to interview me, and the steward was +opposing him. + +“You can’t see him.” + +“Why can’t I?” + +“The Captain is at breakfast, I tell you. He’ll be going on shore +presently, and you can speak to him on deck.” + +“That’s not fair. You let—” + +“I’ve had nothing to do with that.” + +“Oh, yes, you have. Everybody ought to have the same chance. You let +that fellow—” + +The rest I lost. The person having been repulsed successfully, the +steward came down. I can’t say he looked flushed—he was a mulatto—but he +looked flustered. After putting the dishes on the table he remained by +the sideboard with that lackadaisical air of indifference he used to +assume when he had done something too clever by half and was afraid of +getting into a scrape over it. The contemptuous expression of Mr. +Burns’s face as he looked from him to me was really extraordinary. I +couldn’t imagine what new bee had stung the mate now. + +The Captain being silent, nobody else cared to speak, as is the way in +ships. And I was saying nothing simply because I had been made dumb by +the splendour of the entertainment. I had expected the usual +sea-breakfast, whereas I beheld spread before us a veritable feast of +shore provisions: eggs, sausages, butter which plainly did not come from +a Danish tin, cutlets, and even a dish of potatoes. It was three weeks +since I had seen a real, live potato. I contemplated them with interest, +and Mr. Jacobus disclosed himself as a man of human, homely sympathies, +and something of a thought-reader. + +“Try them, Captain,” he encouraged me in a friendly undertone. “They are +excellent.” + +“They look that,” I admitted. “Grown on the island, I suppose.” + +“Oh, no, imported. Those grown here would be more expensive.” + +I was grieved at the ineptitude of the conversation. Were these the +topics for a prominent and wealthy merchant to discuss? I thought the +simplicity with which he made himself at home rather attractive; but what +is one to talk about to a man who comes on one suddenly, after sixty-one +days at sea, out of a totally unknown little town in an island one has +never seen before? What were (besides sugar) the interests of that crumb +of the earth, its gossip, its topics of conversation? To draw him on +business at once would have been almost indecent—or even worse: +impolitic. All I could do at the moment was to keep on in the old +groove. + +“Are the provisions generally dear here?” I asked, fretting inwardly at +my inanity. + +“I wouldn’t say that,” he answered placidly, with that appearance of +saving his breath his restrained manner of speaking suggested. + +He would not be more explicit, yet he did not evade the subject. Eyeing +the table in a spirit of complete abstemiousness (he wouldn’t let me help +him to any eatables) he went into details of supply. The beef was for +the most part imported from Madagascar; mutton of course was rare and +somewhat expensive, but good goat’s flesh— + +“Are these goat’s cutlets?” I exclaimed hastily, pointing at one of the +dishes. + +Posed sentimentally by the sideboard, the steward gave a start. + +“Lor’, no, sir! It’s real mutton!” + +Mr. Burns got through his breakfast impatiently, as if exasperated by +being made a party to some monstrous foolishness, muttered a curt excuse, +and went on deck. Shortly afterwards the second mate took his smooth red +countenance out of the cabin. With the appetite of a schoolboy, and +after two months of sea-fare, he appreciated the generous spread. But I +did not. It smacked of extravagance. All the same, it was a remarkable +feat to have produced it so quickly, and I congratulated the steward on +his smartness in a somewhat ominous tone. He gave me a deprecatory smile +and, in a way I didn’t know what to make of, blinked his fine dark eyes +in the direction of the guest. + +The latter asked under his breath for another cup of coffee, and nibbled +ascetically at a piece of very hard ship’s biscuit. I don’t think he +consumed a square inch in the end; but meantime he gave me, casually as +it were, a complete account of the sugar crop, of the local business +houses, of the state of the freight market. All that talk was +interspersed with hints as to personalities, amounting to veiled +warnings, but his pale, fleshy face remained equable, without a gleam, as +if ignorant of his voice. As you may imagine I opened my ears very wide. +Every word was precious. My ideas as to the value of business friendship +were being favourably modified. He gave me the names of all the +disponible ships together with their tonnage and the names of their +commanders. From that, which was still commercial information, he +condescended to mere harbour gossip. The _Hilda_ had unaccountably lost +her figurehead in the Bay of Bengal, and her captain was greatly affected +by this. He and the ship had been getting on in years together and the +old gentleman imagined this strange event to be the forerunner of his own +early dissolution. The _Stella_ had experienced awful weather off the +Cape—had her decks swept, and the chief officer washed overboard. And +only a few hours before reaching port the baby died. + +Poor Captain H— and his wife were terribly cut up. If they had only been +able to bring it into port alive it could have been probably saved; but +the wind failed them for the last week or so, light breezes, and . . . +the baby was going to be buried this afternoon. He supposed I would +attend— + +“Do you think I ought to?” I asked, shrinkingly. + +He thought so, decidedly. It would be greatly appreciated. All the +captains in the harbour were going to attend. Poor Mrs. H— was quite +prostrated. Pretty hard on H— altogether. + +“And you, Captain—you are not married I suppose?” + +“No, I am not married,” I said. “Neither married nor even engaged.” + +Mentally I thanked my stars; and while he smiled in a musing, dreamy +fashion, I expressed my acknowledgments for his visit and for the +interesting business information he had been good enough to impart to me. +But I said nothing of my wonder thereat. + +“Of course, I would have made a point of calling on you in a day or two,” +I concluded. + +He raised his eyelids distinctly at me, and somehow managed to look +rather more sleepy than before. + +“In accordance with my owners’ instructions,” I explained. “You have had +their letter, of course?” + +By that time he had raised his eyebrows too but without any particular +emotion. On the contrary he struck me then as absolutely imperturbable. + +“Oh! You must be thinking of my brother.” + +It was for me, then, to say “Oh!” But I hope that no more than civil +surprise appeared in my voice when I asked him to what, then, I owed the +pleasure. . . . He was reaching for an inside pocket leisurely. + +“My brother’s a very different person. But I am well known in this part +of the world. You’ve probably heard—” + +I took a card he extended to me. A thick business card, as I lived! +Alfred Jacobus—the other was Ernest—dealer in every description of ship’s +stores! Provisions salt and fresh, oils, paints, rope, canvas, etc., +etc. Ships in harbour victualled by contract on moderate terms— + +“I’ve never heard of you,” I said brusquely. + +His low-pitched assurance did not abandon him. + +“You will be very well satisfied,” he breathed out quietly. + +I was not placated. I had the sense of having been circumvented somehow. +Yet I had deceived myself—if there was any deception. But the confounded +cheek of inviting himself to breakfast was enough to deceive any one. +And the thought struck me: Why! The fellow had provided all these +eatables himself in the way of business. I said: + +“You must have got up mighty early this morning.” + +He admitted with simplicity that he was on the quay before six o’clock +waiting for my ship to come in. He gave me the impression that it would +be impossible to get rid of him now. + +“If you think we are going to live on that scale,” I said, looking at the +table with an irritated eye, “you are jolly well mistaken.” + +“You’ll find it all right, Captain. I quite understand.” + +Nothing could disturb his equanimity. I felt dissatisfied, but I could +not very well fly out at him. He had told me many useful things—and +besides he was the brother of that wealthy merchant. That seemed queer +enough. + +I rose and told him curtly that I must now go ashore. At once he offered +the use of his boat for all the time of my stay in port. + +“I only make a nominal charge,” he continued equably. “My man remains +all day at the landing-steps. You have only to blow a whistle when you +want the boat.” + +And, standing aside at every doorway to let me go through first, he +carried me off in his custody after all. As we crossed the quarter-deck +two shabby individuals stepped forward and in mournful silence offered me +business cards which I took from them without a word under his heavy eye. +It was a useless and gloomy ceremony. They were the touts of the other +ship-chandlers, and he placid at my back, ignored their existence. + +We parted on the quay, after he had expressed quietly the hope of seeing +me often “at the store.” He had a smoking-room for captains there, with +newspapers and a box of “rather decent cigars.” I left him very +unceremoniously. + +My consignees received me with the usual business heartiness, but their +account of the state of the freight-market was by no means so favourable +as the talk of the wrong Jacobus had led me to expect. Naturally I +became inclined now to put my trust in his version, rather. As I closed +the door of the private office behind me I thought to myself: “H’m. A +lot of lies. Commercial diplomacy. That’s the sort of thing a man +coming from sea has got to expect. They would try to charter the ship +under the market rate.” + +In the big, outer room, full of desks, the chief clerk, a tall, lean, +shaved person in immaculate white clothes and with a shiny, +closely-cropped black head on which silvery gleams came and went, rose +from his place and detained me affably. Anything they could do for me, +they would be most happy. Was I likely to call again in the afternoon? +What? Going to a funeral? Oh, yes, poor Captain H—. + +He pulled a long, sympathetic face for a moment, then, dismissing from +this workaday world the baby, which had got ill in a tempest and had died +from too much calm at sea, he asked me with a dental, shark-like smile—if +sharks had false teeth—whether I had yet made my little arrangements for +the ship’s stay in port. + +“Yes, with Jacobus,” I answered carelessly. “I understand he’s the +brother of Mr. Ernest Jacobus to whom I have an introduction from my +owners.” + +I was not sorry to let him know I was not altogether helpless in the +hands of his firm. He screwed his thin lips dubiously. + +“Why,” I cried, “isn’t he the brother?” + +“Oh, yes. . . . They haven’t spoken to each other for eighteen years,” he +added impressively after a pause. + +“Indeed! What’s the quarrel about?” + +“Oh, nothing! Nothing that one would care to mention,” he protested +primly. “He’s got quite a large business. The best ship-chandler here, +without a doubt. Business is all very well, but there is such a thing as +personal character, too, isn’t there? Good-morning, Captain.” + +He went away mincingly to his desk. He amused me. He resembled an old +maid, a commercial old maid, shocked by some impropriety. Was it a +commercial impropriety? Commercial impropriety is a serious matter, for +it aims at one’s pocket. Or was he only a purist in conduct who +disapproved of Jacobus doing his own touting? It was certainly +undignified. I wondered how the merchant brother liked it. But then +different countries, different customs. In a community so isolated and +so exclusively “trading” social standards have their own scale. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +I WOULD have gladly dispensed with the mournful opportunity of becoming +acquainted by sight with all my fellow-captains at once. However I found +my way to the cemetery. We made a considerable group of bareheaded men +in sombre garments. I noticed that those of our company most approaching +to the now obsolete sea-dog type were the most moved—perhaps because they +had less “manner” than the new generation. The old sea-dog, away from +his natural element, was a simple and sentimental animal. I noticed +one—he was facing me across the grave—who was dropping tears. They +trickled down his weather-beaten face like drops of rain on an old rugged +wall. I learned afterwards that he was looked upon as the terror of +sailors, a hard man; that he had never had wife or chick of his own, and +that, engaged from his tenderest years in deep-sea voyages, he knew women +and children merely by sight. + +Perhaps he was dropping those tears over his lost opportunities, from +sheer envy of paternity and in strange jealousy of a sorrow which he +could never know. Man, and even the sea-man, is a capricious animal, the +creature and the victim of lost opportunities. But he made me feel +ashamed of my callousness. I had no tears. + +I listened with horribly critical detachment to that service I had had to +read myself, once or twice, over childlike men who had died at sea. The +words of hope and defiance, the winged words so inspiring in the free +immensity of water and sky, seemed to fall wearily into the little grave. +What was the use of asking Death where her sting was, before that small, +dark hole in the ground? And then my thoughts escaped me altogether—away +into matters of life—and no very high matters at that—ships, freights, +business. In the instability of his emotions man resembles deplorably a +monkey. I was disgusted with my thoughts—and I thought: Shall I be able +to get a charter soon? Time’s money. . . . Will that Jacobus really put +good business in my way? I must go and see him in a day or two. + +Don’t imagine that I pursued these thoughts with any precision. They +pursued me rather: vague, shadowy, restless, shamefaced. Theirs was a +callous, abominable, almost revolting, pertinacity. And it was the +presence of that pertinacious ship-chandler which had started them. He +stood mournfully amongst our little band of men from the sea, and I was +angry at his presence, which, suggesting his brother the merchant, had +caused me to become outrageous to myself. For indeed I had preserved +some decency of feeling. It was only the mind which— + +It was over at last. The poor father—a man of forty with black, bushy +side-whiskers and a pathetic gash on his freshly-shaved chin—thanked us +all, swallowing his tears. But for some reason, either because I +lingered at the gate of the cemetery being somewhat hazy as to my way +back, or because I was the youngest, or ascribing my moodiness caused by +remorse to some more worthy and appropriate sentiment, or simply because +I was even more of a stranger to him than the others—he singled me out. +Keeping at my side, he renewed his thanks, which I listened to in a +gloomy, conscience-stricken silence. Suddenly he slipped one hand under +my arm and waved the other after a tall, stout figure walking away by +itself down a street in a flutter of thin, grey garments: + +“That’s a good fellow—a real good fellow”—he swallowed down a belated +sob—“this Jacobus.” + +And he told me in a low voice that Jacobus was the first man to board his +ship on arrival, and, learning of their misfortune, had taken charge of +everything, volunteered to attend to all routine business, carried off +the ship’s papers on shore, arranged for the funeral— + +“A good fellow. I was knocked over. I had been looking at my wife for +ten days. And helpless. Just you think of that! The dear little chap +died the very day we made the land. How I managed to take the ship in +God alone knows! I couldn’t see anything; I couldn’t speak; I couldn’t. +. . . You’ve heard, perhaps, that we lost our mate overboard on the +passage? There was no one to do it for me. And the poor woman nearly +crazy down below there all alone with the . . . By the Lord! It isn’t +fair.” + +We walked in silence together. I did not know how to part from him. On +the quay he let go my arm and struck fiercely his fist into the palm of +his other hand. + +“By God, it isn’t fair!” he cried again. “Don’t you ever marry unless +you can chuck the sea first. . . . It isn’t fair.” + +I had no intention to “chuck the sea,” and when he left me to go aboard +his ship I felt convinced that I would never marry. While I was waiting +at the steps for Jacobus’s boatman, who had gone off somewhere, the +captain of the _Hilda_ joined me, a slender silk umbrella in his hand and +the sharp points of his archaic, Gladstonian shirt-collar framing a +small, clean-shaved, ruddy face. It was wonderfully fresh for his age, +beautifully modelled and lit up by remarkably clear blue eyes. A lot of +white hair, glossy like spun glass, curled upwards slightly under the +brim of his valuable, ancient, panama hat with a broad black ribbon. In +the aspect of that vivacious, neat, little old man there was something +quaintly angelic and also boyish. + +He accosted me, as though he had been in the habit of seeing me every day +of his life from my earliest childhood, with a whimsical remark on the +appearance of a stout negro woman who was sitting upon a stool near the +edge of the quay. Presently he observed amiably that I had a very pretty +little barque. + +I returned this civil speech by saying readily: + +“Not so pretty as the _Hilda_.” + +At once the corners of his clear-cut, sensitive mouth dropped dismally. + +“Oh, dear! I can hardly bear to look at her now.” + +Did I know, he asked anxiously, that he had lost the figurehead of his +ship; a woman in a blue tunic edged with gold, the face perhaps not so +very, very pretty, but her bare white arms beautifully shaped and +extended as if she were swimming? Did I? Who would have expected such a +things . . . After twenty years too! + +Nobody could have guessed from his tone that the woman was made of wood; +his trembling voice, his agitated manner gave to his lamentations a +ludicrously scandalous flavour. . . . Disappeared at night—a clear fine +night with just a slight swell—in the gulf of Bengal. Went off without a +splash; no one in the ship could tell why, how, at what hour—after twenty +years last October. . . . Did I ever hear! . . . + +I assured him sympathetically that I had never heard—and he became very +doleful. This meant no good he was sure. There was something in it +which looked like a warning. But when I remarked that surely another +figure of a woman could be procured I found myself being soundly rated +for my levity. The old boy flushed pink under his clear tan as if I had +proposed something improper. One could replace masts, I was told, or a +lost rudder—any working part of a ship; but where was the use of sticking +up a new figurehead? What satisfaction? How could one care for it? It +was easy to see that I had never been shipmates with a figurehead for +over twenty years. + +“A new figurehead!” he scolded in unquenchable indignation. “Why! I’ve +been a widower now for eight-and-twenty years come next May and I would +just as soon think of getting a new wife. You’re as bad as that fellow +Jacobus.” + +I was highly amused. + +“What has Jacobus done? Did he want you to marry again, Captain?” I +inquired in a deferential tone. But he was launched now and only grinned +fiercely. + +“Procure—indeed! He’s the sort of chap to procure you anything you like +for a price. I hadn’t been moored here for an hour when he got on board +and at once offered to sell me a figurehead he happens to have in his +yard somewhere. He got Smith, my mate, to talk to me about it. ‘Mr. +Smith,’ says I, ‘don’t you know me better than that? Am I the sort that +would pick up with another man’s cast-off figurehead?’ And after all +these years too! The way some of you young fellows talk—” + +I affected great compunction, and as I stepped into the boat I said +soberly: + +“Then I see nothing for it but to fit in a neat fiddlehead—perhaps. You +know, carved scrollwork, nicely gilt.” + +He became very dejected after his outburst. + +“Yes. Scrollwork. Maybe. Jacobus hinted at that too. He’s never at a +loss when there’s any money to be extracted from a sailorman. He would +make me pay through the nose for that carving. A gilt fiddlehead did you +say—eh? I dare say it would do for you. You young fellows don’t seem to +have any feeling for what’s proper.” + +He made a convulsive gesture with his right arm. + +“Never mind. Nothing can make much difference. I would just as soon let +the old thing go about the world with a bare cutwater,” he cried sadly. +Then as the boat got away from the steps he raised his voice on the edge +of the quay with comical animosity: + +“I would! If only to spite that figurehead-procuring bloodsucker. I am +an old bird here and don’t you forget it. Come and see me on board some +day!” + +I spent my first evening in port quietly in my ship’s cuddy; and glad +enough was I to think that the shore life which strikes one as so pettily +complex, discordant, and so full of new faces on first coming from sea, +could be kept off for a few hours longer. I was however fated to hear +the Jacobus note once more before I slept. + +Mr. Burns had gone ashore after the evening meal to have, as he said, “a +look round.” As it was quite dark when he announced his intention I +didn’t ask him what it was he expected to see. Some time about midnight, +while sitting with a book in the saloon, I heard cautious movements in +the lobby and hailed him by name. + +Burns came in, stick and hat in hand, incredibly vulgarised by his smart +shore togs, with a jaunty air and an odious twinkle in his eye. Being +asked to sit down he laid his hat and stick on the table and after we had +talked of ship affairs for a little while: + +“I’ve been hearing pretty tales on shore about that ship-chandler fellow +who snatched the job from you so neatly, sir.” + +I remonstrated with my late patient for his manner of expressing himself. +But he only tossed his head disdainfully. A pretty dodge indeed: +boarding a strange ship with breakfast in two baskets for all hands and +calmly inviting himself to the captain’s table! Never heard of anything +so crafty and so impudent in his life. + +I found myself defending Jacobus’s unusual methods. + +“He’s the brother of one of the wealthiest merchants in the port.” The +mate’s eyes fairly snapped green sparks. + +“His grand brother hasn’t spoken to him for eighteen or twenty years,” he +declared triumphantly. “So there!” + +“I know all about that,” I interrupted loftily. + +“Do you sir? H’m!” His mind was still running on the ethics of +commercial competition. “I don’t like to see your good nature taken +advantage of. He’s bribed that steward of ours with a five-rupee note to +let him come down—or ten for that matter. He don’t care. He will shove +that and more into the bill presently.” + +“Is that one of the tales you have heard ashore?” I asked. + +He assured me that his own sense could tell him that much. No; what he +had heard on shore was that no respectable person in the whole town would +come near Jacobus. He lived in a large old-fashioned house in one of the +quiet streets with a big garden. After telling me this Burns put on a +mysterious air. “He keeps a girl shut up there who, they say—” + +“I suppose you’ve heard all this gossip in some eminently respectable +place?” I snapped at him in a most sarcastic tone. + +The shaft told, because Mr. Burns, like many other disagreeable people, +was very sensitive himself. He remained as if thunderstruck, with his +mouth open for some further communication, but I did not give him the +chance. “And, anyhow, what the deuce do I care?” I added, retiring into +my room. + +And this was a natural thing to say. Yet somehow I was not indifferent. +I admit it is absurd to be concerned with the morals of one’s +ship-chandler, if ever so well connected; but his personality had stamped +itself upon my first day in harbour, in the way you know. + +After this initial exploit Jacobus showed himself anything but intrusive. +He was out in a boat early every morning going round the ships he served, +and occasionally remaining on board one of them for breakfast with the +captain. + +As I discovered that this practice was generally accepted, I just nodded +to him familiarly when one morning, on coming out of my room, I found him +in the cabin. Glancing over the table I saw that his place was already +laid. He stood awaiting my appearance, very bulky and placid, holding a +beautiful bunch of flowers in his thick hand. He offered them to my +notice with a faint, sleepy smile. From his own garden; had a very fine +old garden; picked them himself that morning before going out to +business; thought I would like. . . . He turned away. “Steward, can you +oblige me with some water in a large jar, please.” + +I assured him jocularly, as I took my place at the table, that he made me +feel as if I were a pretty girl, and that he mustn’t be surprised if I +blushed. But he was busy arranging his floral tribute at the sideboard. +“Stand it before the Captain’s plate, steward, please.” He made this +request in his usual undertone. + +The offering was so pointed that I could do no less than to raise it to +my nose, and as he sat down noiselessly he breathed out the opinion that +a few flowers improved notably the appearance of a ship’s saloon. He +wondered why I did not have a shelf fitted all round the skylight for +flowers in pots to take with me to sea. He had a skilled workman able to +fit up shelves in a day, and he could procure me two or three dozen good +plants— + +The tips of his thick, round fingers rested composedly on the edge of the +table on each side of his cup of coffee. His face remained immovable. +Mr. Burns was smiling maliciously to himself. I declared that I hadn’t +the slightest intention of turning my skylight into a conservatory only +to keep the cabin-table in a perpetual mess of mould and dead vegetable +matter. + +“Rear most beautiful flowers,” he insisted with an upward glance. “It’s +no trouble really.” + +“Oh, yes, it is. Lots of trouble,” I contradicted. “And in the end some +fool leaves the skylight open in a fresh breeze, a flick of salt water +gets at them and the whole lot is dead in a week.” + +Mr. Burns snorted a contemptuous approval. Jacobus gave up the subject +passively. After a time he unglued his thick lips to ask me if I had +seen his brother yet. I was very curt in my answer. + +“No, not yet.” + +“A very different person,” he remarked dreamily and got up. His +movements were particularly noiseless. “Well—thank you, Captain. If +anything is not to your liking please mention it to your steward. I +suppose you will be giving a dinner to the office-clerks presently.” + +“What for?” I cried with some warmth. “If I were a steady trader to the +port I could understand it. But a complete stranger! . . . I may not +turn up again here for years. I don’t see why! . . . Do you mean to say +it is customary?” + +“It will be expected from a man like you,” he breathed out placidly. +“Eight of the principal clerks, the manager, that’s nine, you three +gentlemen, that’s twelve. It needn’t be very expensive. If you tell +your steward to give me a day’s notice—” + +“It will be expected of me! Why should it be expected of me? Is it +because I look particularly soft—or what?” + +His immobility struck me as dignified suddenly, his imperturbable quality +as dangerous. “There’s plenty of time to think about that,” I concluded +weakly with a gesture that tried to wave him away. But before he +departed he took time to mention regretfully that he had not yet had the +pleasure of seeing me at his “store” to sample those cigars. He had a +parcel of six thousand to dispose of, very cheap. + +“I think it would be worth your while to secure some,” he added with a +fat, melancholy smile and left the cabin. + +Mr. Burns struck his fist on the table excitedly. + +“Did you ever see such impudence! He’s made up his mind to get something +out of you one way or another, sir.” + +At once feeling inclined to defend Jacobus, I observed philosophically +that all this was business, I supposed. But my absurd mate, muttering +broken disjointed sentences, such as: “I cannot bear! . . . Mark my +words! . . .” and so on, flung out of the cabin. If I hadn’t nursed him +through that deadly fever I wouldn’t have suffered such manners for a +single day. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +JACOBUS having put me in mind of his wealthy brother I concluded I would +pay that business call at once. I had by that time heard a little more +of him. He was a member of the Council, where he made himself +objectionable to the authorities. He exercised a considerable influence +on public opinion. Lots of people owed him money. He was an importer on +a great scale of all sorts of goods. For instance, the whole supply of +bags for sugar was practically in his hands. This last fact I did not +learn till afterwards. The general impression conveyed to me was that of +a local personage. He was a bachelor and gave weekly card-parties in his +house out of town, which were attended by the best people in the colony. + +The greater, then, was my surprise to discover his office in shabby +surroundings, quite away from the business quarter, amongst a lot of +hovels. Guided by a black board with white lettering, I climbed a narrow +wooden staircase and entered a room with a bare floor of planks littered +with bits of brown paper and wisps of packing straw. A great number of +what looked like wine-cases were piled up against one of the walls. A +lanky, inky, light-yellow, mulatto youth, miserably long-necked and +generally recalling a sick chicken, got off a three-legged stool behind a +cheap deal desk and faced me as if gone dumb with fright. I had some +difficulty in persuading him to take in my name, though I could not get +from him the nature of his objection. He did it at last with an almost +agonised reluctance which ceased to be mysterious to me when I heard him +being sworn at menacingly with savage, suppressed growls, then audibly +cuffed and finally kicked out without any concealment whatever; because +he came back flying head foremost through the door with a stifled shriek. + +To say I was startled would not express it. I remained still, like a man +lost in a dream. Clapping both his hands to that part of his frail +anatomy which had received the shock, the poor wretch said to me simply: + +“Will you go in, please.” His lamentable self-possession was wonderful; +but it did not do away with the incredibility of the experience. A +preposterous notion that I had seen this boy somewhere before, a thing +obviously impossible, was like a delicate finishing touch of weirdness +added to a scene fit to raise doubts as to one’s sanity. I stared +anxiously about me like an awakened somnambulist. + +“I say,” I cried loudly, “there isn’t a mistake, is there? This is Mr. +Jacobus’s office.” + +The boy gazed at me with a pained expression—and somehow so familiar! A +voice within growled offensively: + +“Come in, come in, since you are there. . . . I didn’t know.” + +I crossed the outer room as one approaches the den of some unknown wild +beast; with intrepidity but in some excitement. Only no wild beast that +ever lived would rouse one’s indignation; the power to do that belongs to +the odiousness of the human brute. And I was very indignant, which did +not prevent me from being at once struck by the extraordinary resemblance +of the two brothers. + +This one was dark instead of being fair like the other; but he was as +big. He was without his coat and waistcoat; he had been doubtless +snoozing in the rocking-chair which stood in a corner furthest from the +window. Above the great bulk of his crumpled white shirt, buttoned with +three diamond studs, his round face looked swarthy. It was moist; his +brown moustache hung limp and ragged. He pushed a common, cane-bottomed +chair towards me with his foot. + +“Sit down.” + +I glanced at it casually, then, turning my indignant eyes full upon him, +I declared in precise and incisive tones that I had called in obedience +to my owners’ instructions. + +“Oh! Yes. H’m! I didn’t understand what that fool was saying. . . . +But never mind! It will teach the scoundrel to disturb me at this time +of the day,” he added, grinning at me with savage cynicism. + +I looked at my watch. It was past three o’clock—quite the full swing of +afternoon office work in the port. He snarled imperiously: “Sit down, +Captain.” + +I acknowledged the gracious invitation by saying deliberately: + +“I can listen to all you may have to say without sitting down.” + +Emitting a loud and vehement “Pshaw!” he glared for a moment, very +round-eyed and fierce. It was like a gigantic tomcat spitting at one +suddenly. “Look at him! . . . What do you fancy yourself to be? What +did you come here for? If you won’t sit down and talk business you had +better go to the devil.” + +“I don’t know him personally,” I said. “But after this I wouldn’t mind +calling on him. It would be refreshing to meet a gentleman.” + +He followed me, growling behind my back: + +“The impudence! I’ve a good mind to write to your owners what I think of +you.” + +I turned on him for a moment: + +“As it happens I don’t care. For my part I assure you I won’t even take +the trouble to mention you to them.” + +He stopped at the door of his office while I traversed the littered +anteroom. I think he was somewhat taken aback. + +“I will break every bone in your body,” he roared suddenly at the +miserable mulatto lad, “if you ever dare to disturb me before half-past +three for anybody. D’ye hear? For anybody! . . . Let alone any damned +skipper,” he added, in a lower growl. + +The frail youngster, swaying like a reed, made a low moaning sound. I +stopped short and addressed this sufferer with advice. It was prompted +by the sight of a hammer (used for opening the wine-cases, I suppose) +which was lying on the floor. + +“If I were you, my boy, I would have that thing up my sleeve when I went +in next and at the first occasion I would—” + +What was there so familiar in that lad’s yellow face? Entrenched and +quaking behind the flimsy desk, he never looked up. His heavy, lowered +eyelids gave me suddenly the clue of the puzzle. He resembled—yes, those +thick glued lips—he resembled the brothers Jacobus. He resembled both, +the wealthy merchant and the pushing shopkeeper (who resembled each +other); he resembled them as much as a thin, light-yellow mulatto lad may +resemble a big, stout, middle-aged white man. It was the exotic +complexion and the slightness of his build which had put me off so +completely. Now I saw in him unmistakably the Jacobus strain, weakened, +attenuated, diluted as it were in a bucket of water—and I refrained from +finishing my speech. I had intended to say: “Crack this brute’s head for +him.” I still felt the conclusion to be sound. But it is no trifling +responsibility to counsel parricide to any one, however deeply injured. + +“Beggarly—cheeky—skippers.” + +I despised the emphatic growl at my back; only, being much vexed and +upset, I regret to say that I slammed the door behind me in a most +undignified manner. + +It may not appear altogether absurd if I say that I brought out from that +interview a kindlier view of the other Jacobus. It was with a feeling +resembling partisanship that, a few days later, I called at his “store.” +That long, cavern-like place of business, very dim at the back and +stuffed full of all sorts of goods, was entered from the street by a +lofty archway. At the far end I saw my Jacobus exerting himself in his +shirt-sleeves among his assistants. The captains’ room was a small, +vaulted apartment with a stone floor and heavy iron bars in its windows +like a dungeon converted to hospitable purposes. A couple of cheerful +bottles and several gleaming glasses made a brilliant cluster round a +tall, cool red earthenware pitcher on the centre table which was littered +with newspapers from all parts of the world. A well-groomed stranger in +a smart grey check suit, sitting with one leg flung over his knee, put +down one of these sheets briskly and nodded to me. + +I guessed him to be a steamer-captain. It was impossible to get to know +these men. They came and went too quickly and their ships lay moored far +out, at the very entrance of the harbour. Theirs was another life +altogether. He yawned slightly. + +“Dull hole, isn’t it?” + +I understood this to allude to the town. + +“Do you find it so?” I murmured. + +“Don’t you? But I’m off to-morrow, thank goodness.” + +He was a very gentlemanly person, good-natured and superior. I watched +him draw the open box of cigars to his side of the table, take a big +cigar-case out of his pocket and begin to fill it very methodically. +Presently, on our eyes meeting, he winked like a common mortal and +invited me to follow his example. “They are really decent smokes.” I +shook my head. + +“I am not off to-morrow.” + +“What of that? Think I am abusing old Jacobus’s hospitality? Heavens! +It goes into the bill, of course. He spreads such little matters all +over his account. He can take care of himself! Why, it’s business—” + +I noted a shadow fall over his well-satisfied expression, a momentary +hesitation in closing his cigar-case. But he ended by putting it in his +pocket jauntily. A placid voice uttered in the doorway: “That’s quite +correct, Captain.” + +The large noiseless Jacobus advanced into the room. His quietness, in +the circumstances, amounted to cordiality. He had put on his jacket +before joining us, and he sat down in the chair vacated by the +steamer-man, who nodded again to me and went out with a short, jarring +laugh. A profound silence reigned. With his drowsy stare Jacobus seemed +to be slumbering open-eyed. Yet, somehow, I was aware of being +profoundly scrutinised by those heavy eyes. In the enormous cavern of +the store somebody began to nail down a case, expertly: tap-tap . . . +tap-tap-tap. + +Two other experts, one slow and nasal, the other shrill and snappy, +started checking an invoice. + +“A half-coil of three-inch manilla rope.” + +“Right!” + +“Six assorted shackles.” + +“Right!” + +“Six tins assorted soups, three of paté, two asparagus, fourteen pounds +tobacco, cabin.” + +“Right!” + +“It’s for the captain who was here just now,” breathed out the immovable +Jacobus. “These steamer orders are very small. They pick up what they +want as they go along. That man will be in Samarang in less than a +fortnight. Very small orders indeed.” + +The calling over of the items went on in the shop; an extraordinary +jumble of varied articles, paint-brushes, Yorkshire Relish, etc., etc. . . . +“Three sacks of best potatoes,” read out the nasal voice. + +At this Jacobus blinked like a sleeping man roused by a shake, and +displayed some animation. At his order, shouted into the shop, a +smirking half-caste clerk with his ringlets much oiled and with a pen +stuck behind his ear, brought in a sample of six potatoes which he +paraded in a row on the table. + +Being urged to look at their beauty I gave them a cold and hostile +glance. Calmly, Jacobus proposed that I should order ten or fifteen +tons—tons! I couldn’t believe my ears. My crew could not have eaten +such a lot in a year; and potatoes (excuse these practical remarks) are a +highly perishable commodity. I thought he was joking—or else trying to +find out whether I was an unutterable idiot. But his purpose was not so +simple. I discovered that he meant me to buy them on my own account. + +“I am proposing you a bit of business, Captain. I wouldn’t charge you a +great price.” + +I told him that I did not go in for trade. I even added grimly that I +knew only too well how that sort of spec. generally ended. + +He sighed and clasped his hands on his stomach with exemplary +resignation. I admired the placidity of his impudence. Then waking up +somewhat: + +“Won’t you try a cigar, Captain?” + +“No, thanks. I don’t smoke cigars.” + +“For once!” he exclaimed, in a patient whisper. A melancholy silence +ensued. You know how sometimes a person discloses a certain unsuspected +depth and acuteness of thought; that is, in other words, utters something +unexpected. It was unexpected enough to hear Jacobus say: + +“The man who just went out was right enough. You might take one, +Captain. Here everything is bound to be in the way of business.” + +I felt a little ashamed of myself. The remembrance of his horrid brother +made him appear quite a decent sort of fellow. It was with some +compunction that I said a few words to the effect that I could have no +possible objection to his hospitality. + +Before I was a minute older I saw where this admission was leading me. +As if changing the subject, Jacobus mentioned that his private house was +about ten minutes’ walk away. It had a beautiful old walled garden. +Something really remarkable. I ought to come round some day and have a +look at it. + +He seemed to be a lover of gardens. I too take extreme delight in them; +but I did not mean my compunction to carry me as far as Jacobus’s +flower-beds, however beautiful and old. He added, with a certain +homeliness of tone: + +“There’s only my girl there.” + +It is difficult to set everything down in due order; so I must revert +here to what happened a week or two before. The medical officer of the +port had come on board my ship to have a look at one of my crew who was +ailing, and naturally enough he was asked to step into the cabin. A +fellow-shipmaster of mine was there too; and in the conversation, somehow +or other, the name of Jacobus came to be mentioned. It was pronounced +with no particular reverence by the other man, I believe. I don’t +remember now what I was going to say. The doctor—a pleasant, cultivated +fellow, with an assured manner—prevented me by striking in, in a sour +tone: + +“Ah! You’re talking about my respected papa-in-law.” + +Of course, that sally silenced us at the time. But I remembered the +episode, and at this juncture, pushed for something noncommittal to say, +I inquired with polite surprise: + +“You have your married daughter living with you, Mr. Jacobus?” + +He moved his big hand from right to left quietly. No! That was another +of his girls, he stated, ponderously and under his breath as usual. She +. . . He seemed in a pause to be ransacking his mind for some kind of +descriptive phrase. But my hopes were disappointed. He merely produced +his stereotyped definition. + +“She’s a very different sort of person.” + +“Indeed. . . . And by the by, Jacobus, I called on your brother the other +day. It’s no great compliment if I say that I found him a very different +sort of person from you.” + +He had an air of profound reflection, then remarked quaintly: + +“He’s a man of regular habits.” + +He might have been alluding to the habit of late siesta; but I mumbled +something about “beastly habits anyhow”—and left the store abruptly. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +MY little passage with Jacobus the merchant became known generally. One +or two of my acquaintances made distant allusions to it. Perhaps the +mulatto boy had talked. I must confess that people appeared rather +scandalised, but not with Jacobus’s brutality. A man I knew remonstrated +with me for my hastiness. + +I gave him the whole story of my visit, not forgetting the tell-tale +resemblance of the wretched mulatto boy to his tormentor. He was not +surprised. No doubt, no doubt. What of that? In a jovial tone he +assured me that there must be many of that sort. The elder Jacobus had +been a bachelor all his life. A highly respectable bachelor. But there +had never been open scandal in that connection. His life had been quite +regular. It could cause no offence to any one. + +I said that I had been offended considerably. My interlocutor opened +very wide eyes. Why? Because a mulatto lad got a few knocks? That was +not a great affair, surely. I had no idea how insolent and untruthful +these half-castes were. In fact he seemed to think Mr. Jacobus rather +kind than otherwise to employ that youth at all; a sort of amiable +weakness which could be forgiven. + +This acquaintance of mine belonged to one of the old French families, +descendants of the old colonists; all noble, all impoverished, and living +a narrow domestic life in dull, dignified decay. The men, as a rule, +occupy inferior posts in Government offices or in business houses. The +girls are almost always pretty, ignorant of the world, kind and agreeable +and generally bilingual; they prattle innocently both in French and +English. The emptiness of their existence passes belief. + +I obtained my entry into a couple of such households because some years +before, in Bombay, I had occasion to be of use to a pleasant, ineffectual +young man who was rather stranded there, not knowing what to do with +himself or even how to get home to his island again. It was a matter of +two hundred rupees or so, but, when I turned up, the family made a point +of showing their gratitude by admitting me to their intimacy. My +knowledge of the French language made me specially acceptable. They had +meantime managed to marry the fellow to a woman nearly twice his age, +comparatively well off: the only profession he was really fit for. But +it was not all cakes and ale. The first time I called on the couple she +spied a little spot of grease on the poor devil’s pantaloons and made him +a screaming scene of reproaches so full of sincere passion that I sat +terrified as at a tragedy of Racine. + +Of course there was never question of the money I had advanced him; but +his sisters, Miss Angele and Miss Mary, and the aunts of both families, +who spoke quaint archaic French of pre-Revolution period, and a host of +distant relations adopted me for a friend outright in a manner which was +almost embarrassing. + +It was with the eldest brother (he was employed at a desk in my +consignee’s office) that I was having this talk about the merchant +Jacobus. He regretted my attitude and nodded his head sagely. An +influential man. One never knew when one would need him. I expressed my +immense preference for the shopkeeper of the two. At that my friend +looked grave. + +“What on earth are you pulling that long face about?” I cried +impatiently. “He asked me to see his garden and I have a good mind to go +some day.” + +“Don’t do that,” he said, so earnestly that I burst into a fit of +laughter; but he looked at me without a smile. + +This was another matter altogether. At one time the public conscience of +the island had been mightily troubled by my Jacobus. The two brothers +had been partners for years in great harmony, when a wandering circus +came to the island and my Jacobus became suddenly infatuated with one of +the lady-riders. What made it worse was that he was married. He had not +even the grace to conceal his passion. It must have been strong indeed +to carry away such a large placid creature. His behaviour was perfectly +scandalous. He followed that woman to the Cape, and apparently travelled +at the tail of that beastly circus to other parts of the world, in a most +degrading position. The woman soon ceased to care for him, and treated +him worse than a dog. Most extraordinary stories of moral degradation +were reaching the island at that time. He had not the strength of mind +to shake himself free. . . . + +The grotesque image of a fat, pushing ship-chandler, enslaved by an +unholy love-spell, fascinated me; and I listened rather open-mouthed to +the tale as old as the world, a tale which had been the subject of +legend, of moral fables, of poems, but which so ludicrously failed to fit +the personality. What a strange victim for the gods! + +Meantime his deserted wife had died. His daughter was taken care of by +his brother, who married her as advantageously as was possible in the +circumstances. + +“Oh! The Mrs. Doctor!” I exclaimed. + +“You know that? Yes. A very able man. He wanted a lift in the world, +and there was a good bit of money from her mother, besides the +expectations. . . Of course, they don’t know him,” he added. “The doctor +nods in the street, I believe, but he avoids speaking to him when they +meet on board a ship, as must happen sometimes.” + +I remarked that this surely was an old story by now. + +My friend assented. But it was Jacobus’s own fault that it was neither +forgiven nor forgotten. He came back ultimately. But how? Not in a +spirit of contrition, in a way to propitiate his scandalised +fellow-citizens. He must needs drag along with him a child—a girl. . . . + +“He spoke to me of a daughter who lives with him,” I observed, very much +interested. + +“She’s certainly the daughter of the circus-woman,” said my friend. “She +may be his daughter too; I am willing to admit that she is. In fact I +have no doubt—” + +But he did not see why she should have been brought into a respectable +community to perpetuate the memory of the scandal. And that was not the +worst. Presently something much more distressing happened. That +abandoned woman turned up. Landed from a mail-boat. . . . + +“What! Here? To claim the child perhaps,” I suggested. + +“Not she!” My friendly informant was very scornful. “Imagine a painted, +haggard, agitated, desperate hag. Been cast off in Mozambique by +somebody who paid her passage here. She had been injured internally by a +kick from a horse; she hadn’t a cent on her when she got ashore; I don’t +think she even asked to see the child. At any rate, not till the last +day of her life. Jacobus hired for her a bungalow to die in. He got a +couple of Sisters from the hospital to nurse her through these few +months. If he didn’t marry her _in extremis_ as the good Sisters tried +to bring about, it’s because she wouldn’t even hear of it. As the nuns +said: ‘The woman died impenitent.’ It was reported that she ordered +Jacobus out of the room with her last breath. This may be the real +reason why he didn’t go into mourning himself; he only put the child into +black. While she was little she was to be seen sometimes about the +streets attended by a negro woman, but since she became of age to put her +hair up I don’t think she has set foot outside that garden once. She +must be over eighteen now.” + +Thus my friend, with some added details; such as, that he didn’t think +the girl had spoken to three people of any position in the island; that +an elderly female relative of the brothers Jacobus had been induced by +extreme poverty to accept the position of gouvernante to the girl. As to +Jacobus’s business (which certainly annoyed his brother) it was a wise +choice on his part. It brought him in contact only with strangers of +passage; whereas any other would have given rise to all sorts of +awkwardness with his social equals. The man was not wanting in a certain +tact—only he was naturally shameless. For why did he want to keep that +girl with him? It was most painful for everybody. + +I thought suddenly (and with profound disgust) of the other Jacobus, and +I could not refrain from saying slily: + +“I suppose if he employed her, say, as a scullion in his household and +occasionally pulled her hair or boxed her ears, the position would have +been more regular—less shocking to the respectable class to which he +belongs.” + +He was not so stupid as to miss my intention, and shrugged his shoulders +impatiently. + +“You don’t understand. To begin with, she’s not a mulatto. And a +scandal is a scandal. People should be given a chance to forget. I dare +say it would have been better for her if she had been turned into a +scullion or something of that kind. Of course he’s trying to make money +in every sort of petty way, but in such a business there’ll never be +enough for anybody to come forward.” + +When my friend left me I had a conception of Jacobus and his daughter +existing, a lonely pair of castaways, on a desert island; the girl +sheltering in the house as if it were a cavern in a cliff, and Jacobus +going out to pick up a living for both on the beach—exactly like two +shipwrecked people who always hope for some rescuer to bring them back at +last into touch with the rest of mankind. + +But Jacobus’s bodily reality did not fit in with this romantic view. +When he turned up on board in the usual course, he sipped the cup of +coffee placidly, asked me if I was satisfied—and I hardly listened to the +harbour gossip he dropped slowly in his low, voice-saving enunciation. I +had then troubles of my own. My ship chartered, my thoughts dwelling on +the success of a quick round voyage, I had been suddenly confronted by a +shortage of bags. A catastrophe! The stock of one especial kind, called +pockets, seemed to be totally exhausted. A consignment was shortly +expected—it was afloat, on its way, but, meantime, the loading of my ship +dead stopped, I had enough to worry about. My consignees, who had +received me with such heartiness on my arrival, now, in the character of +my charterers, listened to my complaints with polite helplessness. Their +manager, the old-maidish, thin man, who so prudishly didn’t even like to +speak about the impure Jacobus, gave me the correct commercial view of +the position. + +“My dear Captain”—he was retracting his leathery cheeks into a +condescending, shark-like smile—“we were not morally obliged to tell you +of a possible shortage before you signed the charter-party. It was for +you to guard against the contingency of a delay—strictly speaking. But +of course we shouldn’t have taken any advantage. This is no one’s fault +really. We ourselves have been taken unawares,” he concluded primly, +with an obvious lie. + +This lecture I confess had made me thirsty. Suppressed rage generally +produces that effect; and as I strolled on aimlessly I bethought myself +of the tall earthenware pitcher in the captains’ room of the Jacobus +“store.” + +With no more than a nod to the men I found assembled there, I poured down +a deep, cool draught on my indignation, then another, and then, becoming +dejected, I sat plunged in cheerless reflections. The others read, +talked, smoked, bandied over my head some unsubtle chaff. But my +abstraction was respected. And it was without a word to any one that I +rose and went out, only to be quite unexpectedly accosted in the bustle +of the store by Jacobus the outcast. + +“Glad to see you, Captain. What? Going away? You haven’t been looking +so well these last few days, I notice. Run down, eh?” + +He was in his shirt-sleeves, and his words were in the usual course of +business, but they had a human note. It was commercial amenity, but I +had been a stranger to amenity in that connection. I do verily believe +(from the direction of his heavy glance towards a certain shelf) that he +was going to suggest the purchase of Clarkson’s Nerve Tonic, which he +kept in stock, when I said impulsively: + +“I am rather in trouble with my loading.” + +Wide awake under his sleepy, broad mask with glued lips, he understood at +once, had a movement of the head so appreciative that I relieved my +exasperation by exclaiming: + +“Surely there must be eleven hundred quarter-bags to be found in the +colony. It’s only a matter of looking for them.” + +Again that slight movement of the big head, and in the noise and activity +of the store that tranquil murmur: + +“To be sure. But then people likely to have a reserve of quarter-bags +wouldn’t want to sell. They’d need that size themselves.” + +“That’s exactly what my consignees are telling me. Impossible to buy. +Bosh! They don’t want to. It suits them to have the ship hung up. But +if I were to discover the lot they would have to—Look here, Jacobus! You +are the man to have such a thing up your sleeve.” + +He protested with a ponderous swing of his big head. I stood before him +helplessly, being looked at by those heavy eyes with a veiled expression +as of a man after some soul-shaking crisis. Then, suddenly: + +“It’s impossible to talk quietly here,” he whispered. “I am very busy. +But if you could go and wait for me in my house. It’s less than ten +minutes’ walk. Oh, yes, you don’t know the way.” + +He called for his coat and offered to take me there himself. He would +have to return to the store at once for an hour or so to finish his +business, and then he would be at liberty to talk over with me that +matter of quarter-bags. This programme was breathed out at me through +slightly parted, still lips; his heavy, motionless glance rested upon me, +placid as ever, the glance of a tired man—but I felt that it was +searching, too. I could not imagine what he was looking for in me and +kept silent, wondering. + +“I am asking you to wait for me in my house till I am at liberty to talk +this matter over. You will?” + +“Why, of course!” I cried. + +“But I cannot promise—” + +“I dare say not,” I said. “I don’t expect a promise.” + +“I mean I can’t even promise to try the move I’ve in my mind. One must +see first . . . h’m!” + +“All right. I’ll take the chance. I’ll wait for you as long as you +like. What else have I to do in this infernal hole of a port!” + +Before I had uttered my last words we had set off at a swinging pace. We +turned a couple of corners and entered a street completely empty of +traffic, of semi-rural aspect, paved with cobblestones nestling in grass +tufts. The house came to the line of the roadway; a single story on an +elevated basement of rough-stones, so that our heads were below the level +of the windows as we went along. All the jalousies were tightly shut, +like eyes, and the house seemed fast asleep in the afternoon sunshine. +The entrance was at the side, in an alley even more grass-grown than the +street: a small door, simply on the latch. + +With a word of apology as to showing me the way, Jacobus preceded me up a +dark passage and led me across the naked parquet floor of what I supposed +to be the dining-room. It was lighted by three glass doors which stood +wide open on to a verandah or rather loggia running its brick arches +along the garden side of the house. It was really a magnificent garden: +smooth green lawns and a gorgeous maze of flower-beds in the foreground, +displayed around a basin of dark water framed in a marble rim, and in the +distance the massed foliage of varied trees concealing the roofs of other +houses. The town might have been miles away. It was a brilliantly +coloured solitude, drowsing in a warm, voluptuous silence. Where the +long, still shadows fell across the beds, and in shady nooks, the massed +colours of the flowers had an extraordinary magnificence of effect. I +stood entranced. Jacobus grasped me delicately above the elbow, +impelling me to a half-turn to the left. + +I had not noticed the girl before. She occupied a low, deep, wickerwork +arm-chair, and I saw her in exact profile like a figure in a tapestry, +and as motionless. Jacobus released my arm. + +“This is Alice,” he announced tranquilly; and his subdued manner of +speaking made it sound so much like a confidential communication that I +fancied myself nodding understandingly and whispering: “I see, I see.” . . . +Of course, I did nothing of the kind. Neither of us did anything; we +stood side by side looking down at the girl. For quite a time she did +not stir, staring straight before her as if watching the vision of some +pageant passing through the garden in the deep, rich glow of light and +the splendour of flowers. + +Then, coming to the end of her reverie, she looked round and up. If I +had not at first noticed her, I am certain that she too had been unaware +of my presence till she actually perceived me by her father’s side. The +quickened upward movement of the heavy eyelids, the widening of the +languid glance, passing into a fixed stare, put that beyond doubt. + +Under her amazement there was a hint of fear, and then came a flash as of +anger. Jacobus, after uttering my name fairly loud, said: “Make yourself +at home, Captain—I won’t be gone long,” and went away rapidly. Before I +had time to make a bow I was left alone with the girl—who, I remembered +suddenly, had not been seen by any man or woman of that town since she +had found it necessary to put up her hair. It looked as though it had +not been touched again since that distant time of first putting up; it +was a mass of black, lustrous locks, twisted anyhow high on her head, +with long, untidy wisps hanging down on each side of the clear sallow +face; a mass so thick and strong and abundant that, nothing but to look +at, it gave you a sensation of heavy pressure on the top of your head and +an impression of magnificently cynical untidiness. She leaned forward, +hugging herself with crossed legs; a dingy, amber-coloured, flounced +wrapper of some thin stuff revealed the young supple body drawn together +tensely in the deep low seat as if crouching for a spring. I detected a +slight, quivering start or two, which looked uncommonly like bounding +away. They were followed by the most absolute immobility. + +The absurd impulse to run out after Jacobus (for I had been startled, +too) once repressed, I took a chair, placed it not very far from her, sat +down deliberately, and began to talk about the garden, caring not what I +said, but using a gentle caressing intonation as one talks to soothe a +startled wild animal. I could not even be certain that she understood +me. She never raised her face nor attempted to look my way. I kept on +talking only to prevent her from taking flight. She had another of those +quivering, repressed starts which made me catch my breath with +apprehension. + +Ultimately I formed a notion that what prevented her perhaps from going +off in one great, nervous leap, was the scantiness of her attire. The +wicker armchair was the most substantial thing about her person. What +she had on under that dingy, loose, amber wrapper must have been of the +most flimsy and airy character. One could not help being aware of it. +It was obvious. I felt it actually embarrassing at first; but that sort +of embarrassment is got over easily by a mind not enslaved by narrow +prejudices. I did not avert my gaze from Alice. I went on talking with +ingratiating softness, the recollection that, most likely, she had never +before been spoken to by a strange man adding to my assurance. I don’t +know why an emotional tenseness should have crept into the situation. +But it did. And just as I was becoming aware of it a slight scream cut +short my flow of urbane speech. + +The scream did not proceed from the girl. It was emitted behind me, and +caused me to turn my head sharply. I understood at once that the +apparition in the doorway was the elderly relation of Jacobus, the +companion, the gouvernante. While she remained thunderstruck, I got up +and made her a low bow. + +The ladies of Jacobus’s household evidently spent their days in light +attire. This stumpy old woman with a face like a large wrinkled lemon, +beady eyes, and a shock of iron-grey hair, was dressed in a garment of +some ash-coloured, silky, light stuff. It fell from her thick neck down +to her toes with the simplicity of an unadorned nightgown. It made her +appear truly cylindrical. She exclaimed: “How did you get here?” + +Before I could say a word she vanished and presently I heard a confusion +of shrill protestations in a distant part of the house. Obviously no one +could tell her how I got there. In a moment, with great outcries from +two negro women following her, she waddled back to the doorway, +infuriated. + +“What do you want here?” + +I turned to the girl. She was sitting straight up now, her hands posed +on the arms of the chair. I appealed to her. + +“Surely, Miss Alice, you will not let them drive me out into the street?” + +Her magnificent black eyes, narrowed, long in shape, swept over me with +an indefinable expression, then in a harsh, contemptuous voice she let +fall in French a sort of explanation: + +“_C’est papa_.” + +I made another low bow to the old woman. + +She turned her back on me in order to drive away her black henchwomen, +then surveying my person in a peculiar manner with one small eye nearly +closed and her face all drawn up on that side as if with a twinge of +toothache, she stepped out on the verandah, sat down in a rocking-chair +some distance away, and took up her knitting from a little table. Before +she started at it she plunged one of the needles into the mop of her grey +hair and stirred it vigorously. + +Her elementary nightgown-sort of frock clung to her ancient, stumpy, and +floating form. She wore white cotton stockings and flat brown velvet +slippers. Her feet and ankles were obtrusively visible on the foot-rest. +She began to rock herself slightly, while she knitted. I had resumed my +seat and kept quiet, for I mistrusted that old woman. What if she +ordered me to depart? She seemed capable of any outrage. She had +snorted once or twice; she was knitting violently. Suddenly she piped at +the young girl in French a question which I translate colloquially: + +“What’s your father up to, now?” + +The young creature shrugged her shoulders so comprehensively that her +whole body swayed within the loose wrapper; and in that unexpectedly +harsh voice which yet had a seductive quality to the senses, like certain +kinds of natural rough wines one drinks with pleasure: + +“It’s some captain. Leave me alone—will you!” + +The chair rocked quicker, the old, thin voice was like a whistle. + +“You and your father make a pair. He would stick at nothing—that’s well +known. But I didn’t expect this.” + +I thought it high time to air some of my own French. I remarked +modestly, but firmly, that this was business. I had some matters to talk +over with Mr. Jacobus. + +At once she piped out a derisive “Poor innocent!” Then, with a change of +tone: “The shop’s for business. Why don’t you go to the shop to talk +with him?” + +The furious speed of her fingers and knitting-needles made one dizzy; and +with squeaky indignation: + +“Sitting here staring at that girl—is that what you call business?” + +“No,” I said suavely. “I call this pleasure—an unexpected pleasure. And +unless Miss Alice objects—” + +I half turned to her. She flung at me an angry and contemptuous “Don’t +care!” and leaning her elbow on her knees took her chin in her hand—a +Jacobus chin undoubtedly. And those heavy eyelids, this black irritated +stare reminded me of Jacobus, too—the wealthy merchant, the respected +one. The design of her eyebrows also was the same, rigid and ill-omened. +Yes! I traced in her a resemblance to both of them. It came to me as a +sort of surprising remote inference that both these Jacobuses were rather +handsome men after all. I said: + +“Oh! Then I shall stare at you till you smile.” + +She favoured me again with an even more viciously scornful “Don’t care!” + +The old woman broke in blunt and shrill: + +“Hear his impudence! And you too! Don’t care! Go at least and put some +more clothes on. Sitting there like this before this sailor riff-raff.” + +The sun was about to leave the Pearl of the Ocean for other seas, for +other lands. The walled garden full of shadows blazed with colour as if +the flowers were giving up the light absorbed during the day. The +amazing old woman became very explicit. She suggested to the girl a +corset and a petticoat with a cynical unreserve which humiliated me. Was +I of no more account than a wooden dummy? The girl snapped out: +“Shan’t!” + +It was not the naughty retort of a vulgar child; it had a note of +desperation. Clearly my intrusion had somehow upset the balance of their +established relations. The old woman knitted with furious accuracy, her +eyes fastened down on her work. + +“Oh, you are the true child of your father! And _that_ talks of entering +a convent! Letting herself be stared at by a fellow.” + +“Leave off.” + +“Shameless thing!” + +“Old sorceress,” the girl uttered distinctly, preserving her meditative +pose, chin in hand, and a far-away stare over the garden. + +It was like the quarrel of the kettle and the pot. The old woman flew +out of the chair, banged down her work, and with a great play of thick +limb perfectly visible in that weird, clinging garment of hers, strode at +the girl—who never stirred. I was experiencing a sort of trepidation +when, as if awed by that unconscious attitude, the aged relative of +Jacobus turned short upon me. + +She was, I perceived, armed with a knitting-needle; and as she raised her +hand her intention seemed to be to throw it at me like a dart. But she +only used it to scratch her head with, examining me the while at close +range, one eye nearly shut and her face distorted by a whimsical, +one-sided grimace. + +“My dear man,” she asked abruptly, “do you expect any good to come of +this?” + +“I do hope so indeed, Miss Jacobus.” I tried to speak in the easy tone +of an afternoon caller. “You see, I am here after some bags.” + +“Bags! Look at that now! Didn’t I hear you holding forth to that +graceless wretch?” + +“You would like to see me in my grave,” uttered the motionless girl +hoarsely. + +“Grave! What about me? Buried alive before I am dead for the sake of a +thing blessed with such a pretty father!” she cried; and turning to me: +“You’re one of these men he does business with. Well—why don’t you leave +us in peace, my good fellow?” + +It was said in a tone—this “leave us in peace!” There was a sort of +ruffianly familiarity, a superiority, a scorn in it. I was to hear it +more than once, for you would show an imperfect knowledge of human nature +if you thought that this was my last visit to that house—where no +respectable person had put foot for ever so many years. No, you would be +very much mistaken if you imagined that this reception had scared me +away. First of all I was not going to run before a grotesque and +ruffianly old woman. + +And then you mustn’t forget these necessary bags. That first evening +Jacobus made me stay to dinner; after, however, telling me loyally that +he didn’t know whether he could do anything at all for me. He had been +thinking it over. It was too difficult, he feared. . . . But he did not +give it up in so many words. + +We were only three at table; the girl by means of repeated “Won’t!” +“Shan’t!” and “Don’t care!” having conveyed and affirmed her intention +not to come to the table, not to have any dinner, not to move from the +verandah. The old relative hopped about in her flat slippers and piped +indignantly, Jacobus towered over her and murmured placidly in his +throat; I joined jocularly from a distance, throwing in a few words, for +which under the cover of the night I received secretly a most vicious +poke in the ribs from the old woman’s elbow or perhaps her fist. I +restrained a cry. And all the time the girl didn’t even condescend to +raise her head to look at any of us. All this may sound childish—and yet +that stony, petulant sullenness had an obscurely tragic flavour. + +And so we sat down to the food around the light of a good many candles +while she remained crouching out there, staring in the dark as if feeding +her bad temper on the heavily scented air of the admirable garden. + +Before leaving I said to Jacobus that I would come next day to hear if +the bag affair had made any progress. He shook his head slightly at +that. + +“I’ll haunt your house daily till you pull it off. You’ll be always +finding me here.” + +His faint, melancholy smile did not part his thick lips. + +“That will be all right, Captain.” + +Then seeing me to the door, very tranquil, he murmured earnestly the +recommendation: “Make yourself at home,” and also the hospitable hint +about there being always “a plate of soup.” It was only on my way to the +quay, down the ill-lighted streets, that I remembered I had been engaged +to dine that very evening with the S— family. Though vexed with my +forgetfulness (it would be rather awkward to explain) I couldn’t help +thinking that it had procured me a more amusing evening. And +besides—business. The sacred business—. + +In a barefooted negro who overtook me at a run and bolted down the +landing-steps I recognised Jacobus’s boatman, who must have been feeding +in the kitchen. His usual “Good-night, sah!” as I went up my ship’s +ladder had a more cordial sound than on previous occasions. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +I KEPT my word to Jacobus. I haunted his home. He was perpetually +finding me there of an afternoon when he popped in for a moment from the +“store.” The sound of my voice talking to his Alice greeted him on his +doorstep; and when he returned for good in the evening, ten to one he +would hear it still going on in the verandah. I just nodded to him; he +would sit down heavily and gently, and watch with a sort of approving +anxiety my efforts to make his daughter smile. + +I called her often “Alice,” right before him; sometimes I would address +her as Miss “Don’t Care,” and I exhausted myself in nonsensical chatter +without succeeding once in taking her out of her peevish and tragic self. +There were moments when I felt I must break out and start swearing at her +till all was blue. And I fancied that had I done so Jacobus would not +have moved a muscle. A sort of shady, intimate understanding seemed to +have been established between us. + +I must say the girl treated her father exactly in the same way she +treated me. + +And how could it have been otherwise? She treated me as she treated her +father. She had never seen a visitor. She did not know how men behaved. +I belonged to the low lot with whom her father did business at the port. +I was of no account. So was her father. The only decent people in the +world were the people of the island, who would have nothing to do with +him because of something wicked he had done. This was apparently the +explanation Miss Jacobus had given her of the household’s isolated +position. For she had to be told something! And I feel convinced that +this version had been assented to by Jacobus. I must say the old woman +was putting it forward with considerable gusto. It was on her lips the +universal explanation, the universal allusion, the universal taunt. + +One day Jacobus came in early and, beckoning me into the dining-room, +wiped his brow with a weary gesture and told me that he had managed to +unearth a supply of quarter-bags. + +“It’s fourteen hundred your ship wanted, did you say, Captain?” + +“Yes, yes!” I replied eagerly; but he remained calm. He looked more +tired than I had ever seen him before. + +“Well, Captain, you may go and tell your people that they can get that +lot from my brother.” + +As I remained open-mouthed at this, he added his usual placid formula of +assurance: + +“You’ll find it correct, Captain.” + +“You spoke to your brother about it?” I was distinctly awed. “And for +me? Because he must have known that my ship’s the only one hung up for +bags. How on earth—” + +He wiped his brow again. I noticed that he was dressed with unusual +care, in clothes in which I had never seen him before. He avoided my +eye. + +“You’ve heard people talk, of course. . . . That’s true enough. He . . . +I . . . We certainly. . . for several years . . .” His voice declined to +a mere sleepy murmur. “You see I had something to tell him of, something +which—” + +His murmur stopped. He was not going to tell me what this something was. +And I didn’t care. Anxious to carry the news to my charterers, I ran +back on the verandah to get my hat. + +At the bustle I made the girl turned her eyes slowly in my direction, and +even the old woman was checked in her knitting. I stopped a moment to +exclaim excitedly: + +“Your father’s a brick, Miss Don’t Care. That’s what he is.” + +She beheld my elation in scornful surprise. Jacobus with unwonted +familiarity seized my arm as I flew through the dining-room, and breathed +heavily at me a proposal about “A plate of soup” that evening. I +answered distractedly: “Eh? What? Oh, thanks! Certainly. With +pleasure,” and tore myself away. Dine with him? Of course. The merest +gratitude— + +But some three hours afterwards, in the dusky, silent street, paved with +cobble-stones, I became aware that it was not mere gratitude which was +guiding my steps towards the house with the old garden, where for years +no guest other than myself had ever dined. Mere gratitude does not gnaw +at one’s interior economy in that particular way. Hunger might; but I +was not feeling particularly hungry for Jacobus’s food. + +On that occasion, too, the girl refused to come to the table. + +My exasperation grew. The old woman cast malicious glances at me. I +said suddenly to Jacobus: “Here! Put some chicken and salad on that +plate.” He obeyed without raising his eyes. I carried it with a knife +and fork and a serviette out on the verandah. The garden was one mass of +gloom, like a cemetery of flowers buried in the darkness, and she, in the +chair, seemed to muse mournfully over the extinction of light and colour. +Only whiffs of heavy scent passed like wandering, fragrant souls of that +departed multitude of blossoms. I talked volubly, jocularly, +persuasively, tenderly; I talked in a subdued tone. To a listener it +would have sounded like the murmur of a pleading lover. Whenever I +paused expectantly there was only a deep silence. It was like offering +food to a seated statue. + +“I haven’t been able to swallow a single morsel thinking of you out here +starving yourself in the dark. It’s positively cruel to be so obstinate. +Think of my sufferings.” + +“Don’t care.” + +I felt as if I could have done her some violence—shaken her, beaten her +maybe. I said: + +“Your absurd behaviour will prevent me coming here any more.” + +“What’s that to me?” + +“You like it.” + +“It’s false,” she snarled. + +My hand fell on her shoulder; and if she had flinched I verily believe I +would have shaken her. But there was no movement and this immobility +disarmed my anger. + +“You do. Or you wouldn’t be found on the verandah every day. Why are +you here, then? There are plenty of rooms in the house. You have your +own room to stay in—if you did not want to see me. But you do. You know +you do.” + +I felt a slight shudder under my hand and released my grip as if +frightened by that sign of animation in her body. The scented air of the +garden came to us in a warm wave like a voluptuous and perfumed sigh. + +“Go back to them,” she whispered, almost pitifully. + +As I re-entered the dining-room I saw Jacobus cast down his eyes. I +banged the plate on the table. At this demonstration of ill-humour he +murmured something in an apologetic tone, and I turned on him viciously +as if he were accountable to me for these “abominable eccentricities,” I +believe I called them. + +“But I dare say Miss Jacobus here is responsible for most of this +offensive manner,” I added loftily. + +She piped out at once in her brazen, ruffianly manner: + +“Eh? Why don’t you leave us in peace, my good fellow?” + +I was astonished that she should dare before Jacobus. Yet what could he +have done to repress her? He needed her too much. He raised a heavy, +drowsy glance for an instant, then looked down again. She insisted with +shrill finality: + +“Haven’t you done your business, you two? Well, then—” + +She had the true Jacobus impudence, that old woman. Her mop of iron-grey +hair was parted, on the side like a man’s, raffishly, and she made as if +to plunge her fork into it, as she used to do with the knitting-needle, +but refrained. Her little black eyes sparkled venomously. I turned to +my host at the head of the table—menacingly as it were. + +“Well, and what do you say to that, Jacobus? Am I to take it that we +have done with each other?” + +I had to wait a little. The answer when it came was rather unexpected, +and in quite another spirit than the question. + +“I certainly think we might do some business yet with those potatoes of +mine, Captain. You will find that—” + +I cut him short. + +“I’ve told you before that I don’t trade.” + +His broad chest heaved without a sound in a noiseless sigh. + +“Think it over, Captain,” he murmured, tenacious and tranquil; and I +burst into a jarring laugh, remembering how he had stuck to the +circus-rider woman—the depth of passion under that placid surface, which +even cuts with a riding-whip (so the legend had it) could never raffle +into the semblance of a storm; something like the passion of a fish would +be if one could imagine such a thing as a passionate fish. + +That evening I experienced more distinctly than ever the sense of moral +discomfort which always attended me in that house lying under the ban of +all “decent” people. I refused to stay on and smoke after dinner; and +when I put my hand into the thickly-cushioned palm of Jacobus, I said to +myself that it would be for the last time under his roof. I pressed his +bulky paw heartily nevertheless. Hadn’t he got me out of a serious +difficulty? To the few words of acknowledgment I was bound, and indeed +quite willing, to utter, he answered by stretching his closed lips in his +melancholy, glued-together smile. + +“That will be all right, I hope, Captain,” he breathed out weightily. + +“What do you mean?” I asked, alarmed. “That your brother might yet—” + +“Oh, no,” he reassured me. “He . . . he’s a man of his word, Captain.” + +My self-communion as I walked away from his door, trying to believe that +this was for the last time, was not satisfactory. I was aware myself +that I was not sincere in my reflections as to Jacobus’s motives, and, of +course, the very next day I went back again. + +How weak, irrational, and absurd we are! How easily carried away +whenever our awakened imagination brings us the irritating hint of a +desire! I cared for the girl in a particular way, seduced by the moody +expression of her face, by her obstinate silences, her rare, scornful +words; by the perpetual pout of her closed lips, the black depths of her +fixed gaze turned slowly upon me as if in contemptuous provocation, only +to be averted next moment with an exasperating indifference. + +Of course the news of my assiduity had spread all over the little town. +I noticed a change in the manner of my acquaintances and even something +different in the nods of the other captains, when meeting them at the +landing-steps or in the offices where business called me. The +old-maidish head clerk treated me with distant punctiliousness and, as it +were, gathered his skirts round him for fear of contamination. It seemed +to me that the very niggers on the quays turned to look after me as I +passed; and as to Jacobus’s boatman his “Good-night, sah!” when he put me +on board was no longer merely cordial—it had a familiar, confidential +sound as though we had been partners in some villainy. + +My friend S— the elder passed me on the other side of the street with a +wave of the hand and an ironic smile. The younger brother, the one they +had married to an elderly shrew, he, on the strength of an older +friendship and as if paying a debt of gratitude, took the liberty to +utter a word of warning. + +“You’re doing yourself no good by your choice of friends, my dear chap,” +he said with infantile gravity. + +As I knew that the meeting of the brothers Jacobus was the subject of +excited comment in the whole of the sugary Pearl of the Ocean I wanted to +know why I was blamed. + +“I have been the occasion of a move which may end in a reconciliation +surely desirable from the point of view of the proprieties—don’t you +know?” + +“Of course, if that girl were disposed of it would certainly facilitate—” +he mused sagely, then, inconsequential creature, gave me a light tap on +the lower part of my waistcoat. “You old sinner,” he cried jovially, +“much you care for proprieties. But you had better look out for +yourself, you know, with a personage like Jacobus who has no sort of +reputation to lose.” + +He had recovered his gravity of a respectable citizen by that time and +added regretfully: + +“All the women of our family are perfectly scandalised.” + +But by that time I had given up visiting the S— family and the D— family. +The elder ladies pulled such faces when I showed myself, and the +multitude of related young ladies received me with such a variety of +looks: wondering, awed, mocking (except Miss Mary, who spoke to me and +looked at me with hushed, pained compassion as though I had been ill), +that I had no difficulty in giving them all up. I would have given up +the society of the whole town, for the sake of sitting near that girl, +snarling and superb and barely clad in that flimsy, dingy, amber wrapper, +open low at the throat. She looked, with the wild wisps of hair hanging +down her tense face, as though she had just jumped out of bed in the +panic of a fire. + +She sat leaning on her elbow, looking at nothing. Why did she stay +listening to my absurd chatter? And not only that; but why did she +powder her face in preparation for my arrival? It seemed to be her idea +of making a toilette, and in her untidy negligence a sign of great effort +towards personal adornment. + +But I might have been mistaken. The powdering might have been her daily +practice and her presence in the verandah a sign of an indifference so +complete as to take no account of my existence. Well, it was all one to +me. + +I loved to watch her slow changes of pose, to look at her long +immobilities composed in the graceful lines of her body, to observe the +mysterious narrow stare of her splendid black eyes, somewhat long in +shape, half closed, contemplating the void. She was like a spellbound +creature with the forehead of a goddess crowned by the dishevelled +magnificent hair of a gipsy tramp. Even her indifference was seductive. +I felt myself growing attached to her by the bond of an irrealisable +desire, for I kept my head—quite. And I put up with the moral discomfort +of Jacobus’s sleepy watchfulness, tranquil, and yet so expressive; as if +there had been a tacit pact between us two. I put up with the insolence +of the old woman’s: “Aren’t you ever going to leave us in peace, my good +fellow?” with her taunts; with her brazen and sinister scolding. She was +of the true Jacobus stock, and no mistake. + +Directly I got away from the girl I called myself many hard names. What +folly was this? I would ask myself. It was like being the slave of some +depraved habit. And I returned to her with my head clear, my heart +certainly free, not even moved by pity for that castaway (she was as much +of a castaway as any one ever wrecked on a desert island), but as if +beguiled by some extraordinary promise. Nothing more unworthy could be +imagined. The recollection of that tremulous whisper when I gripped her +shoulder with one hand and held a plate of chicken with the other was +enough to make me break all my good resolutions. + +Her insulting taciturnity was enough sometimes to make one gnash one’s +teeth with rage. When she opened her mouth it was only to be abominably +rude in harsh tones to the associate of her reprobate father; and the +full approval of her aged relative was conveyed to her by offensive +chuckles. If not that, then her remarks, always uttered in the tone of +scathing contempt, were of the most appalling inanity. + +How could it have been otherwise? That plump, ruffianly Jacobus old maid +in the tight grey frock had never taught her any manners. Manners I +suppose are not necessary for born castaways. No educational +establishment could ever be induced to accept her as a pupil—on account +of the proprieties, I imagine. And Jacobus had not been able to send her +away anywhere. How could he have done it? Who with? Where to? He +himself was not enough of an adventurer to think of settling down +anywhere else. His passion had tossed him at the tail of a circus up and +down strange coasts, but, the storm over, he had drifted back shamelessly +where, social outcast as he was, he remained still a Jacobus—one of the +oldest families on the island, older than the French even. There must +have been a Jacobus in at the death of the last Dodo. . . . The girl had +learned nothing, she had never listened to a general conversation, she +knew nothing, she had heard of nothing. She could read certainly; but +all the reading matter that ever came in her way were the newspapers +provided for the captains’ room of the “store.” Jacobus had the habit of +taking these sheets home now and then in a very stained and ragged +condition. + +As her mind could not grasp the meaning of any matters treated there +except police-court reports and accounts of crimes, she had formed for +herself a notion of the civilised world as a scene of murders, +abductions, burglaries, stabbing affrays, and every sort of desperate +violence. England and France, Paris and London (the only two towns of +which she seemed to have heard), appeared to her sinks of abomination, +reeking with blood, in contrast to her little island where petty larceny +was about the standard of current misdeeds, with, now and then, some more +pronounced crime—and that only amongst the imported coolie labourers on +sugar estates or the negroes of the town. But in Europe these things +were being done daily by a wicked population of white men amongst whom, +as that ruffianly, aristocratic old Miss Jacobus pointed out, the +wandering sailors, the associates of her precious papa, were the lowest +of the low. + +It was impossible to give her a sense of proportion. I suppose she +figured England to herself as about the size of the Pearl of the Ocean; +in which case it would certainly have been reeking with gore and a mere +wreck of burgled houses from end to end. One could not make her +understand that these horrors on which she fed her imagination were lost +in the mass of orderly life like a few drops of blood in the ocean. She +directed upon me for a moment the uncomprehending glance of her narrowed +eyes and then would turn her scornful powdered face away without a word. +She would not even take the trouble to shrug her shoulders. + +At that time the batches of papers brought by the last mail reported a +series of crimes in the East End of London, there was a sensational case +of abduction in France and a fine display of armed robbery in Australia. +One afternoon crossing the dining-room I heard Miss Jacobus piping in the +verandah with venomous animosity: “I don’t know what your precious papa +is plotting with that fellow. But he’s just the sort of man who’s +capable of carrying you off far away somewhere and then cutting your +throat some day for your money.” + +There was a good half of the length of the verandah between their chairs. +I came out and sat down fiercely midway between them. + +“Yes, that’s what we do with girls in Europe,” I began in a grimly +matter-of-fact tone. I think Miss Jacobus was disconcerted by my sudden +appearance. I turned upon her with cold ferocity: + +“As to objectionable old women, they are first strangled quietly, then +cut up into small pieces and thrown away, a bit here and a bit there. +They vanish—” + +I cannot go so far as to say I had terrified her. But she was troubled +by my truculence, the more so because I had been always addressing her +with a politeness she did not deserve. Her plump, knitting hands fell +slowly on her knees. She said not a word while I fixed her with severe +determination. Then as I turned away from her at last, she laid down her +work gently and, with noiseless movements, retreated from the verandah. +In fact, she vanished. + +But I was not thinking of her. I was looking at the girl. It was what I +was coming for daily; troubled, ashamed, eager; finding in my nearness to +her a unique sensation which I indulged with dread, self-contempt, and +deep pleasure, as if it were a secret vice bound to end in my undoing, +like the habit of some drug or other which ruins and degrades its slave. + +I looked her over, from the top of her dishevelled head, down the lovely +line of the shoulder, following the curve of the hip, the draped form of +the long limb, right down to her fine ankle below a torn, soiled flounce; +and as far as the point of the shabby, high-heeled, blue slipper, +dangling from her well-shaped foot, which she moved slightly, with quick, +nervous jerks, as if impatient of my presence. And in the scent of the +massed flowers I seemed to breathe her special and inexplicable charm, +the heady perfume of the everlastingly irritated captive of the garden. + +I looked at her rounded chin, the Jacobus chin; at the full, red lips +pouting in the powdered, sallow face; at the firm modelling of the cheek, +the grains of white in the hairs of the straight sombre eyebrows; at the +long eyes, a narrowed gleam of liquid white and intense motionless black, +with their gaze so empty of thought, and so absorbed in their fixity that +she seemed to be staring at her own lonely image, in some far-off mirror +hidden from my sight amongst the trees. + +And suddenly, without looking at me, with the appearance of a person +speaking to herself, she asked, in that voice slightly harsh yet mellow +and always irritated: + +“Why do you keep on coming here?” + +“Why do I keep on coming here?” I repeated, taken by surprise. I could +not have told her. I could not even tell myself with sincerity why I was +coming there. “What’s the good of you asking a question like that?” + +“Nothing is any good,” she observed scornfully to the empty air, her chin +propped on her hand, that hand never extended to any man, that no one had +ever grasped—for I had only grasped her shoulder once—that generous, +fine, somewhat masculine hand. I knew well the peculiarly efficient +shape—broad at the base, tapering at the fingers—of that hand, for which +there was nothing in the world to lay hold of. I pretended to be +playful. + +“No! But do you really care to know?” + +She shrugged indolently her magnificent shoulders, from which the dingy +thin wrapper was slipping a little. + +“Oh—never mind—never mind!” + +There was something smouldering under those airs of lassitude. She +exasperated me by the provocation of her nonchalance, by something +elusive and defiant in her very form which I wanted to seize. I said +roughly: + +“Why? Don’t you think I should tell you the truth?” + +Her eyes glided my way for a sidelong look, and she murmured, moving only +her full, pouting lips: + +“I think you would not dare.” + +“Do you imagine I am afraid of you? What on earth. . . . Well, it’s +possible, after all, that I don’t know exactly why I am coming here. Let +us say, with Miss Jacobus, that it is for no good. You seem to believe +the outrageous things she says, if you do have a row with her now and +then.” + +She snapped out viciously: + +“Who else am I to believe? + +“I don’t know,” I had to own, seeing her suddenly very helpless and +condemned to moral solitude by the verdict of a respectable community. +“You might believe me, if you chose.” + +She made a slight movement and asked me at once, with an effort as if +making an experiment: + +“What is the business between you and papa?” + +“Don’t you know the nature of your father’s business? Come! He sells +provisions to ships.” + +She became rigid again in her crouching pose. + +“Not that. What brings you here—to this house?” + +“And suppose it’s you? You would not call that business? Would you? +And now let us drop the subject. It’s no use. My ship will be ready for +sea the day after to-morrow.” + +She murmured a distinctly scared “So soon,” and getting up quickly, went +to the little table and poured herself a glass of water. She walked with +rapid steps and with an indolent swaying of her whole young figure above +the hips; when she passed near me I felt with tenfold force the charm of +the peculiar, promising sensation I had formed the habit to seek near +her. I thought with sudden dismay that this was the end of it; that +after one more day I would be no longer able to come into this verandah, +sit on this chair, and taste perversely the flavour of contempt in her +indolent poses, drink in the provocation of her scornful looks, and +listen to the curt, insolent remarks uttered in that harsh and seductive +voice. As if my innermost nature had been altered by the action of some +moral poison, I felt an abject dread of going to sea. + +I had to exercise a sudden self-control, as one puts on a brake, to +prevent myself jumping up to stride about, shout, gesticulate, make her a +scene. What for? What about? I had no idea. It was just the relief of +violence that I wanted; and I lolled back in my chair, trying to keep my +lips formed in a smile; that half-indulgent, half-mocking smile which was +my shield against the shafts of her contempt and the insulting sallies +flung at me by the old woman. + +She drank the water at a draught, with the avidity of raging thirst, and +let herself fall on the nearest chair, as if utterly overcome. Her +attitude, like certain tones of her voice, had in it something masculine: +the knees apart in the ample wrapper, the clasped hands hanging between +them, her body leaning forward, with drooping head. I stared at the +heavy black coil of twisted hair. It was enormous, crowning the bowed +head with a crushing and disdained glory. The escaped wisps hung +straight down. And suddenly I perceived that the girl was trembling from +head to foot, as though that glass of iced water had chilled her to the +bone. + +“What’s the matter now?” I said, startled, but in no very sympathetic +mood. + +She shook her bowed, overweighted head and cried in a stifled voice but +with a rising inflection: + +“Go away! Go away! Go away!” + +I got up then and approached her, with a strange sort of anxiety. I +looked down at her round, strong neck, then stooped low enough to peep at +her face. And I began to tremble a little myself. + +“What on earth are you gone wild about, Miss Don’t Care?” + +She flung herself backwards violently, her head going over the back of +the chair. And now it was her smooth, full, palpitating throat that lay +exposed to my bewildered stare. Her eyes were nearly closed, with only a +horrible white gleam under the lids as if she were dead. + +“What has come to you?” I asked in awe. “What are you terrifying +yourself with?” + +She pulled herself together, her eyes open frightfully wide now. The +tropical afternoon was lengthening the shadows on the hot, weary earth, +the abode of obscure desires, of extravagant hopes, of unimaginable +terrors. + +“Never mind! Don’t care!” Then, after a gasp, she spoke with such +frightful rapidity that I could hardly make out the amazing words: “For +if you were to shut me up in an empty place as smooth all round as the +palm of my hand, I could always strangle myself with my hair.” + +For a moment, doubting my ears, I let this inconceivable declaration sink +into me. It is ever impossible to guess at the wild thoughts that pass +through the heads of our fellow-creatures. What monstrous imaginings of +violence could have dwelt under the low forehead of that girl who had +been taught to regard her father as “capable of anything” more in the +light of a misfortune than that of a disgrace; as, evidently, something +to be resented and feared rather than to be ashamed of? She seemed, +indeed, as unaware of shame as of anything else in the world; but in her +ignorance, her resentment and fear took a childish and violent shape. + +Of course she spoke without knowing the value of words. What could she +know of death—she who knew nothing of life? It was merely as the proof +of her being beside herself with some odious apprehension, that this +extraordinary speech had moved me, not to pity, but to a fascinated, +horrified wonder. I had no idea what notion she had of her danger. Some +sort of abduction. It was quite possible with the talk of that atrocious +old woman. Perhaps she thought she could be carried off, bound hand and +foot and even gagged. At that surmise I felt as if the door of a furnace +had been opened in front of me. + +“Upon my honour!” I cried. “You shall end by going crazy if you listen +to that abominable old aunt of yours—” + +I studied her haggard expression, her trembling lips. Her cheeks even +seemed sunk a little. But how I, the associate of her disreputable +father, the “lowest of the low” from the criminal Europe, could manage to +reassure her I had no conception. She was exasperating. + +“Heavens and earth! What do you think I can do?” + +“I don’t know.” + +Her chin certainly trembled. And she was looking at me with extreme +attention. I made a step nearer to her chair. + +“I shall do nothing. I promise you that. Will that do? Do you +understand? I shall do nothing whatever, of any kind; and the day after +to-morrow I shall be gone.” + +What else could I have said? She seemed to drink in my words with the +thirsty avidity with which she had emptied the glass of water. She +whispered tremulously, in that touching tone I had heard once before on +her lips, and which thrilled me again with the same emotion: + +“I would believe you. But what about papa—” + +“He be hanged!” My emotion betrayed itself by the brutality of my tone. +“I’ve had enough of your papa. Are you so stupid as to imagine that I am +frightened of him? He can’t make me do anything.” + +All that sounded feeble to me in the face of her ignorance. But I must +conclude that the “accent of sincerity” has, as some people say, a really +irresistible power. The effect was far beyond my hopes,—and even beyond +my conception. To watch the change in the girl was like watching a +miracle—the gradual but swift relaxation of her tense glance, of her +stiffened muscles, of every fibre of her body. That black, fixed stare +into which I had read a tragic meaning more than once, in which I had +found a sombre seduction, was perfectly empty now, void of all +consciousness whatever, and not even aware any longer of my presence; it +had become a little sleepy, in the Jacobus fashion. + +But, man being a perverse animal, instead of rejoicing at my complete +success, I beheld it with astounded and indignant eyes. There was +something cynical in that unconcealed alteration, the true Jacobus +shamelessness. I felt as though I had been cheated in some rather +complicated deal into which I had entered against my better judgment. +Yes, cheated without any regard for, at least, the forms of decency. + +With an easy, indolent, and in its indolence supple, feline movement, she +rose from the chair, so provokingly ignoring me now, that for very rage I +held my ground within less than a foot of her. Leisurely and tranquil, +behaving right before me with the ease of a person alone in a room, she +extended her beautiful arms, with her hands clenched, her body swaying, +her head thrown back a little, revelling contemptuously in a sense of +relief, easing her limbs in freedom after all these days of crouching, +motionless poses when she had been so furious and so afraid. + +All this with supreme indifference, incredible, offensive, exasperating, +like ingratitude doubled with treachery. + +I ought to have been flattered, perhaps, but, on the contrary, my anger +grew; her movement to pass by me as if I were a wooden post or a piece of +furniture, that unconcerned movement brought it to a head. + +I won’t say I did not know what I was doing, but, certainly, cool +reflection had nothing to do with the circumstance that next moment both +my arms were round her waist. It was an impulsive action, as one +snatches at something falling or escaping; and it had no hypocritical +gentleness about it either. She had no time to make a sound, and the +first kiss I planted on her closed lips was vicious enough to have been a +bite. + +She did not resist, and of course I did not stop at one. She let me go +on, not as if she were inanimate—I felt her there, close against me, +young, full of vigour, of life, a strong desirable creature, but as if +she did not care in the least, in the absolute assurance of her safety, +what I did or left undone. Our faces brought close together in this +storm of haphazard caresses, her big, black, wide-open eyes looked into +mine without the girl appearing either angry or pleased or moved in any +way. In that steady gaze which seemed impersonally to watch my madness I +could detect a slight surprise, perhaps—nothing more. I showered kisses +upon her face and there did not seem to be any reason why this should not +go on for ever. + +That thought flashed through my head, and I was on the point of +desisting, when, all at once, she began to struggle with a sudden +violence which all but freed her instantly, which revived my exasperation +with her, indeed a fierce desire never to let her go any more. I +tightened my embrace in time, gasping out: “No—you don’t!” as if she were +my mortal enemy. On her part not a word was said. Putting her hands +against my chest, she pushed with all her might without succeeding to +break the circle of my arms. Except that she seemed thoroughly awake +now, her eyes gave me no clue whatever. To meet her black stare was like +looking into a deep well, and I was totally unprepared for her change of +tactics. Instead of trying to tear my hands apart, she flung herself +upon my breast and with a downward, undulating, serpentine motion, a +quick sliding dive, she got away from me smoothly. It was all very +swift; I saw her pick up the tail of her wrapper and run for the door at +the end of the verandah not very gracefully. She appeared to be limping +a little—and then she vanished; the door swung behind her so noiselessly +that I could not believe it was completely closed. I had a distinct +suspicion of her black eye being at the crack to watch what I would do. +I could not make up my mind whether to shake my fist in that direction or +blow a kiss. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +EITHER would have been perfectly consistent with my feelings. I gazed at +the door, hesitating, but in the end I did neither. The monition of some +sixth sense—the sense of guilt, maybe, that sense which always acts too +late, alas!—warned me to look round; and at once I became aware that the +conclusion of this tumultuous episode was likely to be a matter of lively +anxiety. Jacobus was standing in the doorway of the dining-room. How +long he had been there it was impossible to guess; and remembering my +struggle with the girl I thought he must have been its mute witness from +beginning to end. But this supposition seemed almost incredible. +Perhaps that impenetrable girl had heard him come in and had got away in +time. + +He stepped on to the verandah in his usual manner, heavy-eyed, with glued +lips. I marvelled at the girl’s resemblance to this man. Those long, +Egyptian eyes, that low forehead of a stupid goddess, she had found in +the sawdust of the circus; but all the rest of the face, the design and +the modelling, the rounded chin, the very lips—all that was Jacobus, +fined down, more finished, more expressive. + +His thick hand fell on and grasped with force the back of a light chair +(there were several standing about) and I perceived the chance of a +broken head at the end of all this—most likely. My mortification was +extreme. The scandal would be horrible; that was unavoidable. But how +to act so as to satisfy myself I did not know. I stood on my guard and +at any rate faced him. There was nothing else for it. Of one thing I +was certain, that, however brazen my attitude, it could never equal the +characteristic Jacobus impudence. + +He gave me his melancholy, glued smile and sat down. I own I was +relieved. The perspective of passing from kisses to blows had nothing +particularly attractive in it. Perhaps—perhaps he had seen nothing? He +behaved as usual, but he had never before found me alone on the verandah. +If he had alluded to it, if he had asked: “Where’s Alice?” or something +of the sort, I would have been able to judge from the tone. He would +give me no opportunity. The striking peculiarity was that he had never +looked up at me yet. “He knows,” I said to myself confidently. And my +contempt for him relieved my disgust with myself. + +“You are early home,” I remarked. + +“Things are very quiet; nothing doing at the store to-day,” he explained +with a cast-down air. + +“Oh, well, you know, I am off,” I said, feeling that this, perhaps, was +the best thing to do. + +“Yes,” he breathed out. “Day after to-morrow.” + +This was not what I had meant; but as he gazed persistently on the floor, +I followed the direction of his glance. In the absolute stillness of the +house we stared at the high-heeled slipper the girl had lost in her +flight. We stared. It lay overturned. + +After what seemed a very long time to me, Jacobus hitched his chair +forward, stooped with extended arm and picked it up. It looked a slender +thing in his big, thick hands. It was not really a slipper, but a low +shoe of blue, glazed kid, rubbed and shabby. It had straps to go over +the instep, but the girl only thrust her feet in, after her slovenly +manner. Jacobus raised his eyes from the shoe to look at me. + +“Sit down, Captain,” he said at last, in his subdued tone. + +As if the sight of that shoe had renewed the spell, I gave up suddenly +the idea of leaving the house there and then. It had become impossible. +I sat down, keeping my eyes on the fascinating object. Jacobus turned +his daughter’s shoe over and over in his cushioned paws as if studying +the way the thing was made. He contemplated the thin sole for a time; +then glancing inside with an absorbed air: + +“I am glad I found you here, Captain.” + +I answered this by some sort of grunt, watching him covertly. Then I +added: “You won’t have much more of me now.” + +He was still deep in the interior of that shoe on which my eyes too were +resting. + +“Have you thought any more of this deal in potatoes I spoke to you about +the other day?” + +“No, I haven’t,” I answered curtly. He checked my movement to rise by an +austere, commanding gesture of the hand holding that fatal shoe. I +remained seated and glared at him. “You know I don’t trade.” + +“You ought to, Captain. You ought to.” + +I reflected. If I left that house now I would never see the girl again. +And I felt I must see her once more, if only for an instant. It was a +need, not to be reasoned with, not to be disregarded. No, I did not want +to go away. I wanted to stay for one more experience of that strange +provoking sensation and of indefinite desire, the habit of which had made +me—me of all people!—dread the prospect of going to sea. + +“Mr. Jacobus,” I pronounced slowly. “Do you really think that upon the +whole and taking various’ matters into consideration—I mean everything, +do you understand?—it would be a good thing for me to trade, let us say, +with you?” + +I waited for a while. He went on looking at the shoe which he held now +crushed in the middle, the worn point of the toe and the high heel +protruding on each side of his heavy fist. + +“That will be all right,” he said, facing me squarely at last. + +“Are you sure?” + +“You’ll find it quite correct, Captain.” He had uttered his habitual +phrases in his usual placid, breath-saving voice and stood my hard, +inquisitive stare sleepily without as much as a wink. + +“Then let us trade,” I said, turning my shoulder to him. “I see you are +bent on it.” + +I did not want an open scandal, but I thought that outward decency may be +bought too dearly at times. I included Jacobus, myself, the whole +population of the island, in the same contemptuous disgust as though we +had been partners in an ignoble transaction. And the remembered vision +at sea, diaphanous and blue, of the Pearl of the Ocean at sixty miles +off; the unsubstantial, clear marvel of it as if evoked by the art of a +beautiful and pure magic, turned into a thing of horrors too. Was this +the fortune this vaporous and rare apparition had held for me in its hard +heart, hidden within the shape as of fair dreams and mist? Was this my +luck? + +“I think”—Jacobus became suddenly audible after what seemed the silence +of vile meditation—“that you might conveniently take some thirty tons. +That would be about the lot, Captain.” + +“Would it? The lot! I dare say it would be convenient, but I haven’t +got enough money for that.” + +I had never seen him so animated. + +“No!” he exclaimed with what I took for the accent of grim menace. +“That’s a pity.” He paused, then, unrelenting: “How much money have you +got, Captain?” he inquired with awful directness. + +It was my turn to face him squarely. I did so and mentioned the amount I +could dispose of. And I perceived that he was disappointed. He thought +it over, his calculating gaze lost in mine, for quite a long time before +he came out in a thoughtful tone with the rapacious suggestion: + +“You could draw some more from your charterers. That would be quite +easy, Captain.” + +“No, I couldn’t,” I retorted brusquely. “I’ve drawn my salary up to +date, and besides, the ship’s accounts are closed.” + +I was growing furious. I pursued: “And I’ll tell you what: if I could do +it I wouldn’t.” Then throwing off all restraint, I added: “You are a bit +too much of a Jacobus, Mr. Jacobus.” + +The tone alone was insulting enough, but he remained tranquil, only a +little puzzled, till something seemed to dawn upon him; but the unwonted +light in his eyes died out instantly. As a Jacobus on his native heath, +what a mere skipper chose to say could not touch him, outcast as he was. +As a ship-chandler he could stand anything. All I caught of his mumble +was a vague—“quite correct,” than which nothing could have been more +egregiously false at bottom—to my view, at least. But I remembered—I had +never forgotten—that I must see the girl. I did not mean to go. I meant +to stay in the house till I had seen her once more. + +“Look here!” I said finally. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll take as +many of your confounded potatoes as my money will buy, on condition that +you go off at once down to the wharf to see them loaded in the lighter +and sent alongside the ship straight away. Take the invoice and a signed +receipt with you. Here’s the key of my desk. Give it to Burns. He will +pay you.” + +He got up from his chair before I had finished speaking, but he refused +to take the key. Burns would never do it. He wouldn’t like to ask him +even. + +“Well, then,” I said, eyeing him slightingly, “there’s nothing for it, +Mr. Jacobus, but you must wait on board till I come off to settle with +you.” + +“That will be all right, Captain. I will go at once.” + +He seemed at a loss what to do with the girl’s shoe he was still holding +in his fist. Finally, looking dully at me, he put it down on the chair +from which he had risen. + +“And you, Captain? Won’t you come along, too, just to see—” + +“Don’t bother about me. I’ll take care of myself.” + +He remained perplexed for a moment, as if trying to understand; and then +his weighty: “Certainly, certainly, Captain,” seemed to be the outcome of +some sudden thought. His big chest heaved. Was it a sigh? As he went +out to hurry off those potatoes he never looked back at me. + +I waited till the noise of his footsteps had died out of the dining-room, +and I waited a little longer. Then turning towards the distant door I +raised my voice along the verandah: + +“Alice!” + +Nothing answered me, not even a stir behind the door. Jacobus’s house +might have been made empty for me to make myself at home in. I did not +call again. I had become aware of a great discouragement. I was +mentally jaded, morally dejected. I turned to the garden again, sitting +down with my elbows spread on the low balustrade, and took my head in my +hands. + +The evening closed upon me. The shadows lengthened, deepened, mingled +together into a pool of twilight in which the flower-beds glowed like +coloured embers; whiffs of heavy scent came to me as if the dusk of this +hemisphere were but the dimness of a temple and the garden an enormous +censer swinging before the altar of the stars. The colours of the +blossoms deepened, losing their glow one by one. + +The girl, when I turned my head at a slight noise, appeared to me very +tall and slender, advancing with a swaying limp, a floating and uneven +motion which ended in the sinking of her shadowy form into the deep low +chair. And I don’t know why or whence I received the impression that she +had come too late. She ought to have appeared at my call. She ought to +have . . . It was as if a supreme opportunity had been missed. + +I rose and took a seat close to her, nearly opposite her arm-chair. Her +ever discontented voice addressed me at once, contemptuously: + +“You are still here.” + +I pitched mine low. + +“You have come out at last.” + +“I came to look for my shoe—before they bring in the lights.” + +It was her harsh, enticing whisper, subdued, not very steady, but its low +tremulousness gave me no thrill now. I could only make out the oval of +her face, her uncovered throat, the long, white gleam of her eyes. She +was mysterious enough. Her hands were resting on the arms of the chair. +But where was the mysterious and provoking sensation which was like the +perfume of her flower-like youth? I said quietly: + +“I have got your shoe here.” She made no sound and I continued: “You had +better give me your foot and I will put it on for you.” + +She made no movement. I bent low down and groped for her foot under the +flounces of the wrapper. She did not withdraw it and I put on the shoe, +buttoning the instep-strap. It was an inanimate foot. I lowered it +gently to the floor. + +“If you buttoned the strap you would not be losing your shoe, Miss Don’t +Care,” I said, trying to be playful without conviction. I felt more like +wailing over the lost illusion of vague desire, over the sudden +conviction that I would never find again near her the strange, half-evil, +half-tender sensation which had given its acrid flavour to so many days, +which had made her appear tragic and promising, pitiful and provoking. +That was all over. + +“Your father picked it up,” I said, thinking she may just as well be told +of the fact. + +“I am not afraid of papa—by himself,” she declared scornfully. + +“Oh! It’s only in conjunction with his disreputable associates, +strangers, the ‘riff-raff of Europe’ as your charming aunt or great-aunt +says—men like me, for instance—that you—” + +“I am not afraid of you,” she snapped out. + +“That’s because you don’t know that I am now doing business with your +father. Yes, I am in fact doing exactly what he wants me to do. I’ve +broken my promise to you. That’s the sort of man I am. And now—aren’t +you afraid? If you believe what that dear, kind, truthful old lady says +you ought to be.” + +It was with unexpected modulated softness that the affirmed: + +“No. I am not afraid.” She hesitated. . . . “Not now.” + +“Quite right. You needn’t be. I shall not see you again before I go to +sea.” I rose and stood near her chair. “But I shall often think of you +in this old garden, passing under the trees over there, walking between +these gorgeous flower-beds. You must love this garden—” + +“I love nothing.” + +I heard in her sullen tone the faint echo of that resentfully tragic note +which I had found once so provoking. But it left me unmoved except for a +sudden and weary conviction of the emptiness of all things under Heaven. + +“Good-bye, Alice,” I said. + +She did not answer, she did not move. To merely take her hand, shake it, +and go away seemed impossible, almost improper. I stooped without haste +and pressed my lips to her smooth forehead. This was the moment when I +realised clearly with a sort of terror my complete detachment from that +unfortunate creature. And as I lingered in that cruel self-knowledge I +felt the light touch of her arms falling languidly on my neck and +received a hasty, awkward, haphazard kiss which missed my lips. No! She +was not afraid; but I was no longer moved. Her arms slipped off my neck +slowly, she made no sound, the deep wicker arm-chair creaked slightly; +only a sense of my dignity prevented me fleeing headlong from that +catastrophic revelation. + +I traversed the dining-room slowly. I thought: She’s listening to my +footsteps; she can’t help it; she’ll hear me open and shut that door. +And I closed it as gently behind me as if I had been a thief retreating +with his ill-gotten booty. During that stealthy act I experienced the +last touch of emotion in that house, at the thought of the girl I had +left sitting there in the obscurity, with her heavy hair and empty eyes +as black as the night itself, staring into the walled garden, silent, +warm, odorous with the perfume of imprisoned flowers, which, like +herself, were lost to sight in a world buried in darkness. + +The narrow, ill-lighted, rustic streets I knew so well on my way to the +harbour were extremely quiet. I felt in my heart that the further one +ventures the better one understands how everything in our life is common, +short, and empty; that it is in seeking the unknown in our sensations +that we discover how mediocre are our attempts and how soon defeated! +Jacobus’s boatman was waiting at the steps with an unusual air of +readiness. He put me alongside the ship, but did not give me his +confidential “Good-evening, sah,” and, instead of shoving off at once, +remained holding by the ladder. + +I was a thousand miles from commercial affairs, when on the dark +quarter-deck Mr. Burns positively rushed at me, stammering with +excitement. He had been pacing the deck distractedly for hours awaiting +my arrival. Just before sunset a lighter loaded with potatoes had come +alongside with that fat ship-chandler himself sitting on the pile of +sacks. He was now stuck immovable in the cabin. What was the meaning of +it all? Surely I did not— + +“Yes, Mr. Burns, I did,” I cut him short. He was beginning to make +gestures of despair when I stopped that, too, by giving him the key of my +desk and desiring him, in a tone which admitted of no argument, to go +below at once, pay Mr. Jacobus’s bill, and send him out of the ship. + +“I don’t want to see him,” I confessed frankly, climbing the poop-ladder. +I felt extremely tired. Dropping on the seat of the skylight, I gave +myself up to idle gazing at the lights about the quay and at the black +mass of the mountain on the south side of the harbour. I never heard +Jacobus leave the ship with every single sovereign of my ready cash in +his pocket. I never heard anything till, a long time afterwards, Mr. +Burns, unable to contain himself any longer, intruded upon me with his +ridiculously angry lamentations at my weakness and good nature. + +“Of course, there’s plenty of room in the after-hatch. But they are sure +to go rotten down there. Well! I never heard . . . seventeen tons! I +suppose I must hoist in that lot first thing to-morrow morning.” + +“I suppose you must. Unless you drop them overboard. But I’m afraid you +can’t do that. I wouldn’t mind myself, but it’s forbidden to throw +rubbish into the harbour, you know.” + +“That is the truest word you have said for many a day, sir—rubbish. +That’s just what I expect they are. Nearly eighty good gold sovereigns +gone; a perfectly clean sweep of your drawer, sir. Bless me if I +understand!” + +As it was impossible to throw the right light on this commercial +transaction I left him to his lamentations and under the impression that +I was a hopeless fool. Next day I did not go ashore. For one thing, I +had no money to go ashore with—no, not enough to buy a cigarette. +Jacobus had made a clean sweep. But that was not the only reason. The +Pearl of the Ocean had in a few short hours grown odious to me. And I +did not want to meet any one. My reputation had suffered. I knew I was +the object of unkind and sarcastic comments. + +The following morning at sunrise, just as our stern-fasts had been let go +and the tug plucked us out from between the buoys, I saw Jacobus standing +up in his boat. The nigger was pulling hard; several baskets of +provisions for ships were stowed between the thwarts. The father of +Alice was going his morning round. His countenance was tranquil and +friendly. He raised his arm and shouted something with great heartiness. +But his voice was of the sort that doesn’t carry any distance; all I +could catch faintly, or rather guess at, were the words “next time” and +“quite correct.” And it was only of these last that I was certain. +Raising my arm perfunctorily for all response, I turned away. I rather +resented the familiarity of the thing. Hadn’t I settled accounts finally +with him by means of that potato bargain? + +This being a harbour story it is not my purpose to speak of our passage. +I was glad enough to be at sea, but not with the gladness of old days. +Formerly I had no memories to take away with me. I shared in the blessed +forgetfulness of sailors, that forgetfulness natural and invincible, +which resembles innocence in so far that it prevents self-examination. +Now however I remembered the girl. During the first few days I was for +ever questioning myself as to the nature of facts and sensations +connected with her person and with my conduct. + +And I must say also that Mr. Burns’ intolerable fussing with those +potatoes was not calculated to make me forget the part which I had +played. He looked upon it as a purely commercial transaction of a +particularly foolish kind, and his devotion—if it was devotion and not +mere cussedness as I came to regard it before long—inspired him with a +zeal to minimise my loss as much as possible. Oh, yes! He took care of +those infamous potatoes with a vengeance, as the saying goes. + +Everlastingly, there was a tackle over the after-hatch and everlastingly +the watch on deck were pulling up, spreading out, picking over, +rebagging, and lowering down again, some part of that lot of potatoes. +My bargain with all its remotest associations, mental and visual—the +garden of flowers and scents, the girl with her provoking contempt and +her tragic loneliness of a hopeless castaway—was everlastingly dangled +before my eyes, for thousands of miles along the open sea. And as if by +a satanic refinement of irony it was accompanied by a most awful smell. +Whiffs from decaying potatoes pursued me on the poop, they mingled with +my thoughts, with my food, poisoned my very dreams. They made an +atmosphere of corruption for the ship. + +I remonstrated with Mr. Burns about this excessive care. I would have +been well content to batten the hatch down and let them perish under the +deck. + +That perhaps would have been unsafe. The horrid emanations might have +flavoured the cargo of sugar. They seemed strong enough to taint the +very ironwork. In addition Mr. Burns made it a personal matter. He +assured me he knew how to treat a cargo of potatoes at sea—had been in +the trade as a boy, he said. He meant to make my loss as small as +possible. What between his devotion—it must have been devotion—and his +vanity, I positively dared not give him the order to throw my +commercial-venture overboard. I believe he would have refused point +blank to obey my lawful command. An unprecedented and comical situation +would have been created with which I did not feel equal to deal. + +I welcomed the coming of bad weather as no sailor had ever done. When at +last I hove the ship to, to pick up the pilot outside Port Philip Heads, +the after-hatch had not been opened for more than a week and I might have +believed that no such thing as a potato had ever been on board. + +It was an abominable day, raw, blustering, with great squalls of wind and +rain; the pilot, a cheery person, looked after the ship and chatted to +me, streaming from head to foot; and the heavier the lash of the downpour +the more pleased with himself and everything around him he seemed to be. +He rubbed his wet hands with a satisfaction, which to me, who had stood +that kind of thing for several days and nights, seemed inconceivable in +any non-aquatic creature. + +“You seem to enjoy getting wet, Pilot,” I remarked. + +He had a bit of land round his house in the suburbs and it was of his +garden he was thinking. At the sound of the word garden, unheard, +unspoken for so many days, I had a vision of gorgeous colour, of sweet +scents, of a girlish figure crouching in a chair. Yes. That was a +distinct emotion breaking into the peace I had found in the sleepless +anxieties of my responsibility during a week of dangerous bad weather. +The Colony, the pilot explained, had suffered from unparalleled drought. +This was the first decent drop of water they had had for seven months. +The root crops were lost. And, trying to be casual, but with visible +interest, he asked me if I had perchance any potatoes to spare. + +Potatoes! I had managed to forget them. In a moment I felt plunged into +corruption up to my neck. Mr. Burns was making eyes at me behind the +pilot’s back. + +Finally, he obtained a ton, and paid ten pounds for it. This was twice +the price of my bargain with Jacobus. The spirit of covetousness woke up +in me. That night, in harbour, before I slept, the Custom House galley +came alongside. While his underlings were putting seals on the +storerooms, the officer in charge took me aside confidentially. “I say, +Captain, you don’t happen to have any potatoes to sell.” + +Clearly there was a potato famine in the land. I let him have a ton for +twelve pounds and he went away joyfully. That night I dreamt of a pile +of gold in the form of a grave in which a girl was buried, and woke up +callous with greed. On calling at my ship-broker’s office, that man, +after the usual business had been transacted, pushed his spectacles up on +his forehead. + +“I was thinking, Captain, that coming from the Pearl of the Ocean you may +have some potatoes to sell.” + +I said negligently: “Oh, yes, I could spare you a ton. Fifteen pounds.” + +He exclaimed: “I say!” But after studying my face for a while accepted +my terms with a faint grimace. It seems that these people could not +exist without potatoes. I could. I didn’t want to see a potato as long +as I lived; but the demon of lucre had taken possession of me. How the +news got about I don’t know, but, returning on board rather late, I found +a small group of men of the coster type hanging about the waist, while +Mr. Burns walked to and fro the quarterdeck loftily, keeping a triumphant +eye on them. They had come to buy potatoes. + +“These chaps have been waiting here in the sun for hours,” Burns +whispered to me excitedly. “They have drank the water-cask dry. Don’t +you throw away your chances, sir. You are too good-natured.” + +I selected a man with thick legs and a man with a cast in his eye to +negotiate with; simply because they were easily distinguishable from the +rest. “You have the money on you?” I inquired, before taking them down +into the cabin. + +“Yes, sir,” they answered in one voice, slapping their pockets. I liked +their air of quiet determination. Long before the end of the day all the +potatoes were sold at about three times the price I had paid for them. +Mr. Burns, feverish and exulting, congratulated himself on his skilful +care of my commercial venture, but hinted plainly that I ought to have +made more of it. + +That night I did not sleep very well. I thought of Jacobus by fits and +starts, between snatches of dreams concerned with castaways starving on a +desert island covered with flowers. It was extremely unpleasant. In the +morning, tired and unrefreshed, I sat down and wrote a long letter to my +owners, giving them a carefully-thought-out scheme for the ship’s +employment in the East and about the China Seas for the next two years. +I spent the day at that task and felt somewhat more at peace when it was +done. + +Their reply came in due course. They were greatly struck with my +project; but considering that, notwithstanding the unfortunate difficulty +with the bags (which they trusted I would know how to guard against in +the future), the voyage showed a very fair profit, they thought it would +be better to keep the ship in the sugar trade—at least for the present. + +I turned over the page and read on: + +“We have had a letter from our good friend Mr. Jacobus. We are pleased +to see how well you have hit it off with him; for, not to speak of his +assistance in the unfortunate matter of the bags, he writes us that +should you, by using all possible dispatch, manage to bring the ship back +early in the season he would be able to give us a good rate of freight. +We have no doubt that your best endeavours . . . etc. . . etc.” + +I dropped the letter and sat motionless for a long time. Then I wrote my +answer (it was a short one) and went ashore myself to post it. But I +passed one letter-box, then another, and in the end found myself going up +Collins Street with the letter still in my pocket—against my heart. +Collins Street at four o’clock in the afternoon is not exactly a desert +solitude; but I had never felt more isolated from the rest of mankind as +when I walked that day its crowded pavement, battling desperately with my +thoughts and feeling already vanquished. + +There came a moment when the awful tenacity of Jacobus, the man of one +passion and of one idea, appeared to me almost heroic. He had not given +me up. He had gone again to his odious brother. And then he appeared to +me odious himself. Was it for his own sake or for the sake of the poor +girl? And on that last supposition the memory of the kiss which missed +my lips appalled me; for whatever he had seen, or guessed at, or risked, +he knew nothing of that. Unless the girl had told him. How could I go +back to fan that fatal spark with my cold breath? No, no, that +unexpected kiss had to be paid for at its full price. + +At the first letter-box I came to I stopped and reaching into my +breast-pocket I took out the letter—it was as if I were plucking out my +very heart—and dropped it through the slit. Then I went straight on +board. + +I wondered what dreams I would have that night; but as it turned out I +did not sleep at all. At breakfast I informed Mr. Burns that I had +resigned my command. + +He dropped his knife and fork and looked at me with indignation. + +“You have, sir! I thought you loved the ship.” + +“So I do, Burns,” I said. “But the fact is that the Indian Ocean and +everything that is in it has lost its charm for me. I am going home as +passenger by the Suez Canal.” + +“Everything that is in it,” he repeated angrily. “I’ve never heard +anybody talk like this. And to tell you the truth, sir, all the time we +have been together I’ve never quite made you out. What’s one ocean more +than another? Charm, indeed!” + +He was really devoted to me, I believe. But he cheered up when I told +him that I had recommended him for my successor. + +“Anyhow,” he remarked, “let people say what they like, this Jacobus has +served your turn. I must admit that this potato business has paid +extremely well. Of course, if only you had—” + +“Yes, Mr. Burns,” I interrupted. “Quite a smile of fortune.” + +But I could not tell him that it was driving me out of the ship I had +learned to love. And as I sat heavy-hearted at that parting, seeing all +my plans destroyed, my modest future endangered—for this command was like +a foot in the stirrup for a young man—he gave up completely for the first +time his critical attitude. + +“A wonderful piece of luck!” he said. + + + + +THE SECRET SHARER +AN EPISODE FROM THE COAST + + +CHAPTER I + + +ON my right hand there were lines of fishing-stakes resembling a +mysterious system of half-submerged bamboo fences, incomprehensible in +its division of the domain of tropical fishes, and crazy of aspect as if +abandoned forever by some nomad tribe of fishermen now gone to the other +end of the ocean; for there was no sign of human habitation as far as the +eye could reach. To the left a group of barren islets, suggesting ruins +of stone walls, towers, and blockhouses, had its foundations set in a +blue sea that itself looked solid, so still and stable did it lie below +my feet; even the track of light from the westering sun shone smoothly, +without that animated glitter which tells of an imperceptible ripple. +And when I turned my head to take a parting glance at the tug which had +just left us anchored outside the bar, I saw the straight line of the +flat shore joined to the stable sea, edge to edge, with a perfect and +unmarked closeness, in one levelled floor half brown, half blue under the +enormous dome of the sky. Corresponding in their insignificance to the +islets of the sea, two small clumps of trees, one on each side of the +only fault in the impeccable joint, marked the mouth of the river Meinam +we had just left on the first preparatory stage of our homeward journey; +and, far back on the inland level, a larger and loftier mass, the grove +surrounding the great Paknam pagoda, was the only thing on which the eye +could rest from the vain task of exploring the monotonous sweep of the +horizon. Here and there gleams as of a few scattered pieces of silver +marked the windings of the great river; and on the nearest of them, just +within the bar, the tug steaming right into the land became lost to my +sight, hull and funnel and masts, as though the impassive earth had +swallowed her up without an effort, without a tremor. My eye followed +the light cloud of her smoke, now here, now there, above the plain, +according to the devious curves of the stream, but always fainter and +farther away, till I lost it at last behind the mitre-shaped hill of the +great pagoda. And then I was left alone with my ship, anchored at the +head of the Gulf of Siam. + +She floated at the starting-point of a long journey, very still in an +immense stillness, the shadows of her spars flung far to the eastward by +the setting sun. At that moment I was alone on her decks. There was not +a sound in her—and around us nothing moved, nothing lived, not a canoe on +the water, not a bird in the air, not a cloud in the sky. In this +breathless pause at the threshold of a long passage we seemed to be +measuring our fitness for a long and arduous enterprise, the appointed +task of both our existences to be carried out, far from all human eyes, +with only sky and sea for spectators and for judges. + +There must have been some glare in the air to interfere with one’s sight, +because it was only just before the sun left us that my roaming eyes made +out beyond the highest ridge of the principal islet of the group +something which did away with the solemnity of perfect solitude. The +tide of darkness flowed on swiftly; and with tropical suddenness a swarm +of stars came out above the shadowy earth, while I lingered yet, my hand +resting lightly on my ship’s rail as if on the shoulder of a trusted +friend. But, with all that multitude of celestial bodies staring down at +one, the comfort of quiet communion with her was gone for good. And +there were also disturbing sounds by this time—voices, footsteps forward; +the steward flitted along the maindeck, a busily ministering spirit; a +hand-bell tinkled urgently under the poop-deck. . . . + +I found my two officers waiting for me near the supper table, in the +lighted cuddy. We sat down at once, and as I helped the chief mate, I +said: + +“Are you aware that there is a ship anchored inside the islands? I saw +her mastheads above the ridge as the sun went down.” + +He raised sharply his simple face, overcharged by a terrible growth of +whisker, and emitted his usual ejaculations: “Bless my soul, sir! You +don’t say so!” + +My second mate was a round-cheeked, silent young man, grave beyond his +years, I thought; but as our eyes happened to meet I detected a slight +quiver on his lips. I looked down at once. It was not my part to +encourage sneering on board my ship. It must be said, too, that I knew +very little of my officers. In consequence of certain events of no +particular significance, except to myself, I had been appointed to the +command only a fortnight before. Neither did I know much of the hands +forward. All these people had been together for eighteen months or so, +and my position was that of the only stranger on board. I mention this +because it has some bearing on what is to follow. But what I felt most +was my being a stranger to the ship; and if all the truth must be told, I +was somewhat of a stranger to myself. The youngest man on board (barring +the second mate), and untried as yet by a position of the fullest +responsibility, I was willing to take the adequacy of the others for +granted. They had simply to be equal to their tasks; but I wondered how +far I should turn out faithful to that ideal conception of one’s own +personality every man sets up for himself secretly. + + * * * * * + +Meantime the chief mate, with an almost visible effect of collaboration +on the part of his round eyes and frightful whiskers, was trying to +evolve a theory of the anchored ship. His dominant trait was to take all +things into earnest consideration. He was of a painstaking turn of mind. +As he used to say, he “liked to account to himself” for practically +everything that came in his way, down to a miserable scorpion he had +found in his cabin a week before. The why and the wherefore of that +scorpion—how it got on board and came to select his room rather than the +pantry (which was a dark place and more what a scorpion would be partial +to), and how on earth it managed to drown itself in the inkwell of his +writing-desk—had exercised him infinitely. The ship within the islands +was much more easily accounted for; and just as we were about to rise +from table he made his pronouncement. She was, he doubted not, a ship +from home lately arrived. Probably she drew too much water to cross the +bar except at the top of spring tides. Therefore she went into that +natural harbour to wait for a few days in preference to remaining in an +open roadstead. + +“That’s so,” confirmed the second mate, suddenly, in his slightly hoarse +voice. “She draws over twenty feet. She’s the Liverpool ship _Sephora_ +with a cargo of coal. Hundred and twenty-three days from Cardiff.” + +We looked at him in surprise. + +“The tugboat skipper told me when he came on board for your letters, +sir,” explained the young man. “He expects to take her up the river the +day after to-morrow.” + +After thus overwhelming us with the extent of his information he slipped +out of the cabin. The mate observed regretfully that he “could not +account for that young fellow’s whims.” What prevented him telling us +all about it at once, he wanted to know. + +I detained him as he was making a move. For the last two days the crew +had had plenty of hard work, and the night before they had very little +sleep. I felt painfully that I—a stranger—was doing something unusual +when I directed him to let all hands turn in without setting an +anchor-watch. I proposed to keep on deck myself till one o’clock or +thereabouts. I would get the second mate to relieve me at that hour. + +“He will turn out the cook and the steward at four,” I concluded, “and +then give you a call. Of course at the slightest sign of any sort of +wind we’ll have the hands up and make a start at once.” + +He concealed his astonishment. “Very well, sir.” Outside the cuddy he +put his head in the second mate’s door to inform him of my unheard-of +caprice to take a five hours’ anchor-watch on myself. I heard the other +raise his voice incredulously—“What? The captain himself?” Then a few +more murmurs, a door closed, then another. A few moments later I went on +deck. + +My strangeness, which had made me sleepless, had prompted that +unconventional arrangement, as if I had expected in those solitary hours +of the night to get on terms with the ship of which I knew nothing, +manned by men of whom I knew very little more. Fast alongside a wharf, +littered like any ship in port with a tangle of unrelated things, invaded +by unrelated shore people, I had hardly seen her yet properly. Now, as +she lay cleared for sea, the stretch of her maindeck seemed to me very +fine under the stars. Very fine, very roomy for her size, and very +inviting. I descended the poop and paced the waist, my mind picturing to +myself the coming passage through the Malay Archipelago, down the Indian +Ocean, and up the Atlantic. All its phases were familiar enough to me, +every characteristic, all the alternatives which were likely to face me +on the high seas—everything! . . . except the novel responsibility of +command. But I took heart from the reasonable thought that the ship was +like other ships, the men like other men, and that the sea was not likely +to keep any special surprises expressly for my discomfiture. + +Arrived at that comforting conclusion, I bethought myself of a cigar and +went below to get it. All was still down there. Everybody at the after +end of the ship was sleeping profoundly. I came out again on the +quarter-deck, agreeably at ease in my sleeping-suit on that warm +breathless night, barefooted, a glowing cigar in my teeth, and, going +forward, I was met by the profound silence of the fore end of the ship. +Only as I passed the door of the forecastle I heard a deep, quiet, +trustful sigh of some sleeper inside. And suddenly I rejoiced in the +great security of the sea as compared with the unrest of the land, in my +choice of that untempted life presenting no disquieting problems, +invested with an elementary moral beauty by the absolute +straightforwardness of its appeal and by the singleness of its purpose. + +The riding-light in the fore-rigging burned with a clear, untroubled, as +if symbolic, flame, confident and bright in the mysterious shades of the +night. Passing on my way aft along the other side of the ship, I +observed that the rope side-ladder, put over, no doubt, for the master of +the tug when he came to fetch away our letters, had not been hauled in as +it should have been. I became annoyed at this, for exactitude in small +matters is the very soul of discipline. Then I reflected that I had +myself peremptorily dismissed my officers from duty, and by my own act +had prevented the anchor-watch being formally set and things properly +attended to. I asked myself whether it was wise ever to interfere with +the established routine of duties even from the kindest of motives. My +action might have made me appear eccentric. Goodness only knew how that +absurdly whiskered mate would “account” for my conduct, and what the +whole ship thought of that informality of their new captain. I was vexed +with myself. + +Not from compunction certainly, but, as it were mechanically, I proceeded +to get the ladder in myself. Now a side-ladder of that sort is a light +affair and comes in easily, yet my vigorous tug, which should have +brought it flying on board, merely recoiled upon my body in a totally +unexpected jerk. What the devil! . . . I was so astounded by the +immovableness of that ladder that I remained stock-still, trying to +account for it to myself like that imbecile mate of mine. In the end, of +course, I put my head over the rail. + +The side of the ship made an opaque belt of shadow on the darkling glassy +shimmer of the sea. But I saw at once something elongated and pale +floating very close to the ladder. Before I could form a guess a faint +flash of phosphorescent light, which seemed to issue suddenly from the +naked body of a man, flickered in the sleeping water with the elusive, +silent play of summer lightning in a night sky. With a gasp I saw +revealed to my stare a pair of feet, the long legs, a broad livid back +immersed right up to the neck in a greenish cadaverous glow. One hand, +awash, clutched the bottom rung of the ladder. He was complete but for +the head. A headless corpse! The cigar dropped out of my gaping mouth +with a tiny plop and a short hiss quite audible in the absolute stillness +of all things under heaven. At that I suppose he raised up his face, a +dimly pale oval in the shadow of the ship’s side. But even then I could +only barely make out down there the shape of his black-haired head. +However, it was enough for the horrid, frost-bound sensation which had +gripped me about the chest to pass off. The moment of vain exclamations +was past, too. I only climbed on the spare spar and leaned over the rail +as far as I could, to bring my eyes nearer to that mystery floating +alongside. + +As he hung by the ladder, like a resting swimmer, the sea-lightning +played about his limbs at every stir; and he appeared in it ghastly, +silvery, fish-like. He remained as mute as a fish, too. He made no +motion to get out of the water, either. It was inconceivable that he +should not attempt to come on board, and strangely troubling to suspect +that perhaps he did not want to. And my first words were prompted by +just that troubled incertitude. + +“What’s the matter?” I asked in my ordinary tone, speaking down to the +face upturned exactly under mine. + +“Cramp,” it answered, no louder. Then slightly anxious, “I say, no need +to call any one.” + +“I was not going to,” I said. + +“Are you alone on deck?” + +“Yes.” + +I had somehow the impression that he was on the point of letting go the +ladder to swim away beyond my ken—mysterious as he came. But, for the +moment, this being appearing as if he had risen from the bottom of the +sea (it was certainly the nearest land to the ship) wanted only to know +the time. I told him. And he, down there, tentatively: + +“I suppose your captain’s turned in?” + +“I am sure he isn’t,” I said. + +He seemed to struggle with himself, for I heard something like the low, +bitter murmur of doubt. “What’s the good?” His next words came out with +a hesitating effort. + +“Look here, my man. Could you call him out quietly?” + +I thought the time had come to declare myself. + +“_I_ am the captain.” + +I heard a “By Jove!” whispered at the level of the water. The +phosphorescence flashed in the swirl of the water all about his limbs, +his other hand seized the ladder. + +“My name’s Leggatt.” + +The voice was calm and resolute. A good voice. The self-possession of +that man had somehow induced a corresponding state in myself. It was +very quietly that I remarked: + +“You must be a good swimmer.” + +“Yes. I’ve been in the water practically since nine o’clock. The +question for me now is whether I am to let go this ladder and go on +swimming till I sink from exhaustion, or—to come on board here.” + +I felt this was no mere formula of desperate speech, but a real +alternative in the view of a strong soul. I should have gathered from +this that he was young; indeed, it is only the young who are ever +confronted by such clear issues. But at the time it was pure intuition +on my part. A mysterious communication was established already between +us two—in the face of that silent, darkened tropical sea. I was young, +too; young enough to make no comment. The man in the water began +suddenly to climb up the ladder, and I hastened away from the rail to +fetch some clothes. + +Before entering the cabin I stood still, listening in the lobby at the +foot of the stairs. A faint snore came through the closed door of the +chief mate’s room. The second mate’s door was on the hook, but the +darkness in there was absolutely soundless. He, too, was young and could +sleep like a stone. Remained the steward, but he was not likely to wake +up before he was called. I got a sleeping-suit out of my room and, +coming back on deck, saw the naked man from the sea sitting on the +main-hatch, glimmering white in the darkness, his elbows on his knees and +his head in his hands. In a moment he had concealed his damp body in a +sleeping-suit of the same grey-stripe pattern as the one I was wearing +and followed me like my double on the poop. Together we moved right aft, +barefooted, silent. + +“What is it?” I asked in a deadened voice, taking the lighted lamp out of +the binnacle, and raising it to his face. + +“An ugly business.” + +He had rather regular features; a good mouth; light eyes under somewhat +heavy, dark eyebrows; a smooth, square forehead; no growth on his cheeks; +a small, brown moustache, and a well-shaped, round chin. His expression +was concentrated, meditative, under the inspecting light of the lamp I +held up to his face; such as a man thinking hard in solitude might wear. +My sleeping-suit was just right for his size. A well-knit young fellow +of twenty-five at most. He caught his lower lip with the edge of white, +even teeth. + +“Yes,” I said, replacing the lamp in the binnacle. The warm, heavy +tropical night closed upon his head again. + +“There’s a ship over there,” he murmured. + +“Yes, I know. The _Sephora_. Did you know of us?” + +“Hadn’t the slightest idea. I am the mate of her—” He paused and +corrected himself. “I should say I _was_.” + +“Aha! Something wrong?” + +“Yes. Very wrong indeed. I’ve killed a man.” + +“What do you mean? Just now?” + +“No, on the passage. Weeks ago. Thirty-nine south. When I say a man—” + +“Fit of temper,” I suggested, confidently. + +The shadowy, dark head, like mine, seemed to nod imperceptibly above the +ghostly grey of my sleeping-suit. It was, in the night, as though I had +been faced by my own reflection in the depths of a sombre and immense +mirror. + +“A pretty thing to have to own up to for a Conway boy,” murmured my +double, distinctly. + +“You’re a Conway boy?” + +“I am,” he said, as if startled. Then, slowly . . . “Perhaps you too—” + +It was so; but being a couple of years older I had left before he joined. +After a quick interchange of dates a silence fell; and I thought suddenly +of my absurd mate with his terrific whiskers and the “Bless my soul—you +don’t say so” type of intellect. My double gave me an inkling of his +thoughts by saying: + +“My father’s a parson in Norfolk. Do you see me before a judge and jury +on that charge? For myself I can’t see the necessity. There are fellows +that an angel from heaven—And I am not that. He was one of those +creatures that are just simmering all the time with a silly sort of +wickedness. Miserable devils that have no business to live at all. He +wouldn’t do his duty and wouldn’t let anybody else do theirs. But what’s +the good of talking! You know well enough the sort of ill-conditioned +snarling cur—” + +He appealed to me as if our experiences had been as identical as our +clothes. And I knew well enough the pestiferous danger of such a +character where there are no means of legal repression. And I knew well +enough also that my double there was no homicidal ruffian. I did not +think of asking him for details, and he told me the story roughly in +brusque, disconnected sentences. I needed no more. I saw it all going +on as though I were myself inside that other sleeping-suit. + +“It happened while we were setting a reefed foresail, at dusk. Reefed +foresail! You understand the sort of weather. The only sail we had left +to keep the ship running; so you may guess what it had been like for +days. Anxious sort of job, that. He gave me some of his cursed +insolence at the sheet. I tell you I was overdone with this terrific +weather that seemed to have no end to it. Terrific, I tell you—and a +deep ship. I believe the fellow himself was half crazed with funk. It +was no time for gentlemanly reproof, so I turned round and felled him +like an ox. He up and at me. We closed just as an awful sea made for +the ship. All hands saw it coming and took to the rigging, but I had him +by the throat, and went on shaking him like a rat, the men above us +yelling, “Look out! look out!” Then a crash as if the sky had fallen on +my head. They say that for over ten minutes hardly anything was to be +seen of the ship—just the three masts and a bit of the forecastle head +and of the poop all awash driving along in a smother of foam. It was a +miracle that they found us, jammed together behind the forebits. It’s +clear that I meant business, because I was holding him by the throat +still when they picked us up. He was black in the face. It was too much +for them. It seems they rushed us aft together, gripped as we were, +screaming “Murder!” like a lot of lunatics, and broke into the cuddy. +And the ship running for her life, touch and go all the time, any minute +her last in a sea fit to turn your hair grey only a-looking at it. I +understand that the skipper, too, started raving like the rest of them. +The man had been deprived of sleep for more than a week, and to have this +sprung on him at the height of a furious gale nearly drove him out of his +mind. I wonder they didn’t fling me overboard after getting the carcass +of their precious ship-mate out of my fingers. They had rather a job to +separate us, I’ve been told. A sufficiently fierce story to make an old +judge and a respectable jury sit up a bit. The first thing I heard when +I came to myself was the maddening howling of that endless gale, and on +that the voice of the old man. He was hanging on to my bunk, staring +into my face out of his sou’wester. + +“‘Mr. Leggatt, you have killed a man. You can act no longer as chief +mate of this ship.’” + +His care to subdue his voice made it sound monotonous. He rested a hand +on the end of the skylight to steady himself with, and all that time did +not stir a limb, so far as I could see. “Nice little tale for a quiet +tea-party,” he concluded in the same tone. + +One of my hands, too, rested on the end of the skylight; neither did I +stir a limb, so far as I knew. We stood less than a foot from each +other. It occurred to me that if old “Bless my soul—you don’t say so” +were to put his head up the companion and catch sight of us, he would +think he was seeing double, or imagine himself come upon a scene of weird +witchcraft; the strange captain having a quiet confabulation by the wheel +with his own grey ghost. I became very much concerned to prevent +anything of the sort. I heard the other’s soothing undertone. + +“My father’s a parson in Norfolk,” it said. Evidently he had forgotten +he had told me this important fact before. Truly a nice little tale. + +“You had better slip down into my stateroom now,” I said, moving off +stealthily. My double followed my movements; our bare feet made no +sound; I let him in, closed the door with care, and, after giving a call +to the second mate, returned on deck for my relief. + +“Not much sign of any wind yet,” I remarked when he approached. + +“No, sir. Not much,” he assented, sleepily, in his hoarse voice, with +just enough deference, no more, and barely suppressing a yawn. + +“Well, that’s all you have to look out for. You have got your orders.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +I paced a turn or two on the poop and saw him take up his position face +forward with his elbow in the ratlines of the mizzen-rigging before I +went below. The mate’s faint snoring was still going on peacefully. The +cuddy lamp was burning over the table on which stood a vase with flowers, +a polite attention from the ship’s provision merchant—the last flowers we +should see for the next three months at the very least. Two bunches of +bananas hung from the beam symmetrically, one on each side of the +rudder-casing. Everything was as before in the ship—except that two of +her captain’s sleeping-suits were simultaneously in use, one motionless +in the cuddy, the other keeping very still in the captain’s stateroom. + +It must be explained here that my cabin had the form of the capital +letter L the door being within the angle and opening into the short part +of the letter. A couch was to the left, the bed-place to the right; my +writing-desk and the chronometers’ table faced the door. But any one +opening it, unless he stepped right inside, had no view of what I call +the long (or vertical) part of the letter. It contained some lockers +surmounted by a bookcase; and a few clothes, a thick jacket or two, caps, +oilskin coat, and such like, hung on hooks. There was at the bottom of +that part a door opening into my bath-room, which could be entered also +directly from the saloon. But that way was never used. + +The mysterious arrival had discovered the advantage of this particular +shape. Entering my room, lighted strongly by a big bulkhead lamp swung +on gimbals above my writing-desk, I did not see him anywhere till he +stepped out quietly from behind the coats hung in the recessed part. + +“I heard somebody moving about, and went in there at once,” he whispered. + +I, too, spoke under my breath. + +“Nobody is likely to come in here without knocking and getting +permission.” + +He nodded. His face was thin and the sunburn faded, as though he had +been ill. And no wonder. He had been, I heard presently, kept under +arrest in his cabin for nearly seven weeks. But there was nothing sickly +in his eyes or in his expression. He was not a bit like me, really; yet, +as we stood leaning over my bed-place, whispering side by side, with our +dark heads together and our backs to the door, anybody bold enough to +open it stealthily would have been treated to the uncanny sight of a +double captain busy talking in whispers with his other self. + +“But all this doesn’t tell me how you came to hang on to our +side-ladder,” I inquired, in the hardly audible murmurs we used, after he +had told me something more of the proceedings on board the _Sephora_ once +the bad weather was over. + +“When we sighted Java Head I had had time to think all those matters out +several times over. I had six weeks of doing nothing else, and with only +an hour or so every evening for a tramp on the quarter-deck.” + +He whispered, his arms folded on the side of my bed-place, staring +through the open port. And I could imagine perfectly the manner of this +thinking out—a stubborn if not a steadfast operation; something of which +I should have been perfectly incapable. + +“I reckoned it would be dark before we closed with the land,” he +continued, so low that I had to strain my hearing, near as we were to +each other, shoulder touching shoulder almost. “So I asked to speak to +the old man. He always seemed very sick when he came to see me—as if he +could not look me in the face. You know, that foresail saved the ship. +She was too deep to have run long under bare poles. And it was I that +managed to set it for him. Anyway, he came. When I had him in my +cabin—he stood by the door looking at me as if I had the halter round my +neck already—I asked him right away to leave my cabin door unlocked at +night while the ship was going through Sunda Straits. There would be the +Java coast within two or three miles, off Angier Point. I wanted nothing +more. I’ve had a prize for swimming my second year in the Conway.” + +“I can believe it,” I breathed out. + +“God only knows why they locked me in every night. To see some of their +faces you’d have thought they were afraid I’d go about at night +strangling people. Am I a murdering brute? Do I look it? By Jove! if I +had been he wouldn’t have trusted himself like that into my room. You’ll +say I might have chucked him aside and bolted out, there and then—it was +dark already. Well, no. And for the same reason I wouldn’t think of +trying to smash the door. There would have been a rush to stop me at the +noise, and I did not mean to get into a confounded scrimmage. Somebody +else might have got killed—for I would not have broken out only to get +chucked back, and I did not want any more of that work. He refused, +looking more sick than ever. He was afraid of the men, and also of that +old second mate of his who had been sailing with him for years—a +grey-headed old humbug; and his steward, too, had been with him devil +knows how long—seventeen years or more—a dogmatic sort of loafer who +hated me like poison, just because I was the chief mate. No chief mate +ever made more than one voyage in the _Sephora_, you know. Those two old +chaps ran the ship. Devil only knows what the skipper wasn’t afraid of +(all his nerve went to pieces altogether in that hellish spell of bad +weather we had)—of what the law would do to him—of his wife, perhaps. +Oh, yes! she’s on board. Though I don’t think she would have meddled. +She would have been only too glad to have me out of the ship in any way. +The ‘brand of Cain’ business, don’t you see. That’s all right. I was +ready enough to go off wandering on the face of the earth—and that was +price enough to pay for an Abel of that sort. Anyhow, he wouldn’t listen +to me. ‘This thing must take its course. I represent the law here.’ He +was shaking like a leaf. ‘So you won’t?’ ‘No!’ ‘Then I hope you will +be able to sleep on that,’ I said, and turned my back on him. ‘I wonder +that _you_ can,’ cries he, and locks the door. + +“Well, after that, I couldn’t. Not very well. That was three weeks ago. +We have had a slow passage through the Java Sea; drifted about Carimata +for ten days. When we anchored here they thought, I suppose, it was all +right. The nearest land (and that’s five miles) is the ship’s +destination; the consul would soon set about catching me; and there would +have been no object in bolting to these islets there. I don’t suppose +there’s a drop of water on them. I don’t know how it was, but to-night +that steward, after bringing me my supper, went out to let me eat it, and +left the door unlocked. And I ate it—all there was, too. After I had +finished I strolled out on the quarterdeck. I don’t know that I meant to +do anything. A breath of fresh air was all I wanted, I believe. Then a +sudden temptation came over me. I kicked off my slippers and was in the +water before I had made up my mind fairly. Somebody heard the splash and +they raised an awful hullabaloo. ‘He’s gone! Lower the boats! He’s +committed suicide! No, he’s swimming.’ Certainly I was swimming. It’s +not so easy for a swimmer like me to commit suicide by drowning. I +landed on the nearest islet before the boat left the ship’s side. I +heard them pulling about in the dark, hailing, and so on, but after a bit +they gave up. Everything quieted down and the anchorage became as still +as death. I sat down on a stone and began to think. I felt certain they +would start searching for me at daylight. There was no place to hide on +those stony things—and if there had been, what would have been the good? +But now I was clear of that ship, I was not going back. So after a while +I took off all my clothes, tied them up in a bundle with a stone inside, +and dropped them in the deep water on the outer side of that islet. That +was suicide enough for me. Let them think what they liked, but I didn’t +mean to drown myself. I meant to swim till I sank—but that’s not the +same thing. I struck out for another of these little islands, and it was +from that one that I first saw your riding-light. Something to swim for. +I went on easily, and on the way I came upon a flat rock a foot or two +above water. In the daytime, I dare say, you might make it out with a +glass from your poop. I scrambled up on it and rested myself for a bit. +Then I made another start. That last spell must have been over a mile.” + +His whisper was getting fainter and fainter, and all the time he stared +straight out through the port-hole, in which there was not even a star to +be seen. I had not interrupted him. There was something that made +comment impossible in his narrative, or perhaps in himself; a sort of +feeling, a quality, which I can’t find a name for. And when he ceased, +all I found was a futile whisper: “So you swam for our light?” + +“Yes—straight for it. It was something to swim for. I couldn’t see any +stars low down because the coast was in the way, and I couldn’t see the +land, either. The water was like glass. One might have been swimming in +a confounded thousand-feet deep cistern with no place for scrambling out +anywhere; but what I didn’t like was the notion of swimming round and +round like a crazed bullock before I gave out; and as I didn’t mean to go +back . . . No. Do you see me being hauled back, stark naked, off one of +these little islands by the scruff of the neck and fighting like a wild +beast? Somebody would have got killed for certain, and I did not want +any of that. So I went on. Then your ladder—” + +“Why didn’t you hail the ship?” I asked, a little louder. + +He touched my shoulder lightly. Lazy footsteps came right over our heads +and stopped. The second mate had crossed from the other side of the poop +and might have been hanging over the rail, for all we knew. + +“He couldn’t hear us talking—could he?” My double breathed into my very +ear, anxiously. + +His anxiety was an answer, a sufficient answer, to the question I had put +to him. An answer containing all the difficulty of that situation. I +closed the port-hole quietly, to make sure. A louder word might have +been overheard. + +“Who’s that?” he whispered then. + +“My second mate. But I don’t know much more of the fellow than you do.” + +And I told him a little about myself. I had been appointed to take +charge while I least expected anything of the sort, not quite a fortnight +ago. I didn’t know either the ship or the people. Hadn’t had the time +in port to look about me or size anybody up. And as to the crew, all +they knew was that I was appointed to take the ship home. For the rest, +I was almost as much of a stranger on board as himself, I said. And at +the moment I felt it most acutely. I felt that it would take very little +to make me a suspect person in the eyes of the ship’s company. + +He had turned about meantime; and we, the two strangers in the ship, +faced each other in identical attitudes. + +“Your ladder—” he murmured, after a silence. “Who’d have thought of +finding a ladder hanging over at night in a ship anchored out here! I +felt just then a very unpleasant faintness. After the life I’ve been +leading for nine weeks, anybody would have got out of condition. I +wasn’t capable of swimming round as far as your rudder-chains. And, lo +and behold! there was a ladder to get hold of. After I gripped it I said +to myself, ‘What’s the good?’ When I saw a man’s head looking over I +thought I would swim away presently and leave him shouting—in whatever +language it was. I didn’t mind being looked at. I—I liked it. And then +you speaking to me so quietly—as if you had expected me—made me hold on a +little longer. It had been a confounded lonely time—I don’t mean while +swimming. I was glad to talk a little to somebody that didn’t belong to +the _Sephora_. As to asking for the captain, that was a mere impulse. +It could have been no use, with all the ship knowing about me and the +other people pretty certain to be round here in the morning. I don’t +know—I wanted to be seen, to talk with somebody, before I went on. I +don’t know what I would have said. . . . ‘Fine night, isn’t it?’ or +something of the sort.” + +“Do you think they will be round here presently?” I asked with some +incredulity. + +“Quite likely,” he said, faintly. + +He looked extremely haggard all of a sudden. His head rolled on his +shoulders. + +“H’m. We shall see then. Meantime get into that bed,” I whispered. +“Want help? There.” + +It was a rather high bed-place with a set of drawers underneath. This +amazing swimmer really needed the lift I gave him by seizing his leg. He +tumbled in, rolled over on his back, and flung one arm across his eyes. +And then, with his face nearly hidden, he must have looked exactly as I +used to look in that bed. I gazed upon my other self for a while before +drawing across carefully the two green serge curtains which ran on a +brass rod. I thought for a moment of pinning them together for greater +safety, but I sat down on the couch, and once there I felt unwilling to +rise and hunt for a pin. I would do it in a moment. I was extremely +tired, in a peculiarly intimate way, by the strain of stealthiness, by +the effort of whispering and the general secrecy of this excitement. It +was three o’clock by now and I had been on my feet since nine, but I was +not sleepy; I could not have gone to sleep. I sat there, fagged out, +looking at the curtains, trying to clear my mind of the confused +sensation of being in two places at once, and greatly bothered by an +exasperating knocking in my head. It was a relief to discover suddenly +that it was not in my head at all, but on the outside of the door. +Before I could collect myself the words “Come in” were out of my mouth, +and the steward entered with a tray, bringing in my morning coffee. I +had slept, after all, and I was so frightened that I shouted, “This way! +I am here, steward,” as though he had been miles away. He put down the +tray on the table next the couch and only then said, very quietly, “I can +see you are here, sir.” I felt him give me a keen look, but I dared not +meet his eyes just then. He must have wondered why I had drawn the +curtains of my bed before going to sleep on the couch. He went out, +hooking the door open as usual. + +I heard the crew washing decks above me. I knew I would have been told +at once if there had been any wind. Calm, I thought, and I was doubly +vexed. Indeed, I felt dual more than ever. The steward reappeared +suddenly in the doorway. I jumped up from the couch so quickly that he +gave a start. + +“What do you want here?” + +“Close your port, sir—they are washing decks.” + +“It is closed,” I said, reddening. + +“Very well, sir.” But he did not move from the doorway and returned my +stare in an extraordinary, equivocal manner for a time. Then his eyes +wavered, all his expression changed, and in a voice unusually gentle, +almost coaxingly: + +“May I come in to take the empty cup away, sir?” + +“Of course!” I turned my back on him while he popped in and out. Then I +unhooked and closed the door and even pushed the bolt. This sort of +thing could not go on very long. The cabin was as hot as an oven, too. +I took a peep at my double, and discovered that he had not moved, his arm +was still over his eyes; but his chest heaved; his hair was wet; his chin +glistened with perspiration. I reached over him and opened the port. + +“I must show myself on deck,” I reflected. + +Of course, theoretically, I could do what I liked, with no one to say nay +to me within the whole circle of the horizon; but to lock my cabin door +and take the key away I did not dare. Directly I put my head out of the +companion I saw the group of my two officers, the second mate barefooted, +the chief mate in long india-rubber boots, near the break of the poop, +and the steward half-way down the poop-ladder talking to them eagerly. +He happened to catch sight of me and dived, the second ran down on the +main-deck shouting some order or other, and the chief mate came to meet +me, touching his cap. + +There was a sort of curiosity in his eye that I did not like. I don’t +know whether the steward had told them that I was “queer” only, or +downright drunk, but I know the man meant to have a good look at me. I +watched him coming with a smile which, as he got into point-blank range, +took effect and froze his very whiskers. I did not give him time to open +his lips. + +“Square the yards by lifts and braces before the hands go to breakfast.” + +It was the first particular order I had given on board that ship; and I +stayed on deck to see it executed, too. I had felt the need of asserting +myself without loss of time. That sneering young cub got taken down a +peg or two on that occasion, and I also seized the opportunity of having +a good look at the face of every foremast man as they filed past me to go +to the after braces. At breakfast time, eating nothing myself, I +presided with such frigid dignity that the two mates were only too glad +to escape from the cabin as soon as decency permitted; and all the time +the dual working of my mind distracted me almost to the point of +insanity. I was constantly watching myself, my secret self, as dependent +on my actions as my own personality, sleeping in that bed, behind that +door which faced me as I sat at the head of the table. It was very much +like being mad, only it was worse because one was aware of it. + +I had to shake him for a solid minute, but when at last he opened his +eyes it was in the full possession of his senses, with an inquiring look. + +“All’s well so far,” I whispered. “Now you must vanish into the +bath-room.” + +He did so, as noiseless as a ghost, and I then rang for the steward, and +facing him boldly, directed him to tidy up my stateroom while I was +having my bath—“and be quick about it.” As my tone admitted of no +excuses, he said, “Yes, sir,” and ran off to fetch his dust-pan and +brushes. I took a bath and did most of my dressing, splashing, and +whistling softly for the steward’s edification, while the secret sharer +of my life stood drawn up bolt upright in that little space, his face +looking very sunken in daylight, his eyelids lowered under the stern, +dark line of his eyebrows drawn together by a slight frown. + +When I left him there to go back to my room the steward was finishing +dusting. I sent for the mate and engaged him in some insignificant +conversation. It was, as it were, trifling with the terrific character +of his whiskers; but my object was to give him an opportunity for a good +look at my cabin. And then I could at last shut, with a clear +conscience, the door of my stateroom and get my double back into the +recessed part. There was nothing else for it. He had to sit still on a +small folding stool, half smothered by the heavy coats hanging there. We +listened to the steward going into the bath-room out of the saloon, +filling the water-bottles there, scrubbing the bath, setting things to +rights, whisk, bang, clatter—out again into the saloon—turn the +key—click. Such was my scheme for keeping my second self invisible. +Nothing better could be contrived under the circumstances. And there we +sat; I at my writing-desk ready to appear busy with some papers, he +behind me, out of sight of the door. It would not have been prudent to +talk in daytime; and I could not have stood the excitement of that queer +sense of whispering to myself. Now and then glancing over my shoulder, I +saw him far back there, sitting rigidly on the low stool, his bare feet +close together, his arms folded, his head hanging on his breast—and +perfectly still. Anybody would have taken him for me. + +I was fascinated by it myself. Every moment I had to glance over my +shoulder. I was looking at him when a voice outside the door said: + +“Beg pardon, sir.” + +“Well!” . . . I kept my eyes on him, and so, when the voice outside the +door announced, “There’s a ship’s boat coming our way, sir,” I saw him +give a start—the first movement he had made for hours. But he did not +raise his bowed head. + +“All right. Get the ladder over.” + +I hesitated. Should I whisper something to him? But what? His +immobility seemed to have been never disturbed. What could I tell him he +did not know already? . . . Finally I went on deck. + + + +CHAPTER II + + +THE skipper of the _Sephora_ had a thin red whisker all round his face, +and the sort of complexion that goes with hair of that colour; also the +particular, rather smeary shade of blue in the eyes. He was not exactly +a showy figure; his shoulders were high, his stature but middling—one leg +slightly more bandy than the other. He shook hands, looking vaguely +around. A spiritless tenacity was his main characteristic, I judged. I +behaved with a politeness which seemed to disconcert him. Perhaps he was +shy. He mumbled to me as if he were ashamed of what he was saying; gave +his name (it was something like Archbold—but at this distance of years I +hardly am sure), his ship’s name, and a few other particulars of that +sort, in the manner of a criminal making a reluctant and doleful +confession. He had had terrible weather on the passage +out—terrible—terrible—wife aboard, too. + +By this time we were seated in the cabin and the steward brought in a +tray with a bottle and glasses. “Thanks! No.” Never took liquor. +Would have some water, though. He drank two tumblerfuls. Terrible +thirsty work. Ever since daylight had been exploring the islands round +his ship. + +“What was that for—fun?” I asked, with an appearance of polite interest. + +“No!” He sighed. “Painful duty.” + +As he persisted in his mumbling and I wanted my double to hear every +word, I hit upon the notion of informing him that I regretted to say I +was hard of hearing. + +“Such a young man, too!” he nodded, keeping his smeary blue, +unintelligent eyes fastened upon me. What was the cause of it—some +disease? he inquired, without the least sympathy and as if he thought +that, if so, I’d got no more than I deserved. + +“Yes; disease,” I admitted in a cheerful tone which seemed to shock him. +But my point was gained, because he had to raise his voice to give me his +tale. It is not worth while to record that version. It was just over +two months since all this had happened, and he had thought so much about +it that he seemed completely muddled as to its bearings, but still +immensely impressed. + +“What would you think of such a thing happening on board your own ship? +I’ve had the _Sephora_ for these fifteen years. I am a well-known +shipmaster.” + +He was densely distressed—and perhaps I should have sympathised with him +if I had been able to detach my mental vision from the unsuspected sharer +of my cabin as though he were my second self. There he was on the other +side of the bulkhead, four or five feet from us, no more, as we sat in +the saloon. I looked politely at Captain Archbold (if that was his +name), but it was the other I saw, in a grey sleeping-suit, seated on a +low stool, his bare feet close together, his arms folded, and every word +said between us falling into the ears of his dark head bowed on his +chest. + +“I have been at sea now, man and boy, for seven-and-thirty years, and +I’ve never heard of such a thing happening in an English ship. And that +it should be my ship. Wife on board, too.” + +I was hardly listening to him. + +“Don’t you think,” I said, “that the heavy sea which, you told me, came +aboard just then might have killed the man? I have seen the sheer weight +of a sea kill a man very neatly, by simply breaking his neck.” + +“Good God!” he uttered, impressively, fixing his smeary blue eyes on me. +“The sea! No man killed by the sea ever looked like that.” He seemed +positively scandalised at my suggestion. And as I gazed at him, +certainly not prepared for anything original on his part, he advanced his +head close to mine and thrust his tongue out at me so suddenly that I +couldn’t help starting back. + +After scoring over my calmness in this graphic way he nodded wisely. If +I had seen the sight, he assured me, I would never forget it as long as I +lived. The weather was too bad to give the corpse a proper sea burial. +So next day at dawn they took it up on the poop, covering its face with a +bit of bunting; he read a short prayer, and then, just as it was, in its +oilskins and long boots, they launched it amongst those mountainous seas +that seemed ready every moment to swallow up the ship herself and the +terrified lives on board of her. + +“That reefed foresail saved you,” I threw in. + +“Under God—it did,” he exclaimed fervently. “It was by a special mercy, +I firmly believe, that it stood some of those hurricane squalls.” + +“It was the setting of that sail which—” I began. + +“God’s own hand in it,” he interrupted me. “Nothing less could have done +it. I don’t mind telling you that I hardly dared give the order. It +seemed impossible that we could touch anything without losing it, and +then our last hope would have been gone.” + +The terror of that gale was on him yet. I let him go on for a bit, then +said, casually—as if returning to a minor subject: + +“You were very anxious to give up your mate to the shore people, I +believe?” + +He was. To the law. His obscure tenacity on that point had in it +something incomprehensible and a little awful; something, as it were, +mystical, quite apart from his anxiety that he should not be suspected of +“countenancing any doings of that sort.” Seven-and-thirty virtuous years +at sea, of which over twenty of immaculate command, and the last fifteen +in the _Sephora_, seemed to have laid him under some pitiless obligation. + +“And you know,” he went on, groping shamefacedly amongst his feelings, “I +did not engage that young fellow. His people had some interest with my +owners. I was in a way forced to take him on. He looked very smart, +very gentlemanly, and all that. But do you know—I never liked him, +somehow. I am a plain man. You see, he wasn’t exactly the sort for the +chief mate of a ship like the _Sephora_.” + +I had become so connected in thoughts and impressions with the secret +sharer of my cabin that I felt as if I, personally, were being given to +understand that I, too, was not the sort that would have done for the +chief mate of a ship like the _Sephora_. I had no doubt of it in my +mind. + +“Not at all the style of man. You understand,” he insisted, +superfluously, looking hard at me. + +I smiled urbanely. He seemed at a loss for a while. + +“I suppose I must report a suicide.” + +“Beg pardon?” + +“Suicide! That’s what I’ll have to write to my owners directly I get +in.” + +“Unless you manage to recover him before to-morrow,” I assented, +dispassionately. . . “I mean, alive.” + +He mumbled something which I really did not catch, and I turned my ear to +him in a puzzled manner. He fairly bawled: + +“The land—I say, the mainland is at least seven miles off my anchorage.” + +“About that.” + +My lack of excitement, of curiosity, of surprise, of any sort of +pronounced interest, began to arouse his distrust. But except for the +felicitous pretence of deafness I had not tried to pretend anything. I +had felt utterly incapable of playing the part of ignorance properly, and +therefore was afraid to try. It is also certain that he had brought some +ready-made suspicions with him, and that he viewed my politeness as a +strange and unnatural phenomenon. And yet how else could I have received +him? Not heartily! That was impossible for psychological reasons, which +I need not state here. My only object was to keep off his inquiries. +Surlily? Yes, but surliness might have provoked a point-blank question. +From its novelty to him and from its nature, punctilious courtesy was the +manner best calculated to restrain the man. But there was the danger of +his breaking through my defence bluntly. I could not, I think, have met +him by a direct lie, also for psychological (not moral) reasons. If he +had only known how afraid I was of his putting my feeling of identity +with the other to the test! But, strangely enough—(I thought of it only +afterward)—I believe that he was not a little disconcerted by the reverse +side of that weird situation, by something in me that reminded him of the +man he was seeking—suggested a mysterious similitude to the young fellow +he had distrusted and disliked from the first. + +However that might have been, the silence was not very prolonged. He +took another oblique step. + +“I reckon I had no more than a two-mile pull to your ship. Not a bit +more.” + +“And quite enough, too, in this awful heat,” I said. + +Another pause full of mistrust followed. Necessity, they say, is mother +of invention, but fear, too, is not barren of ingenious suggestions. And +I was afraid he would ask me point-blank for news of my other self. + +“Nice little saloon, isn’t it?” I remarked, as if noticing for the first +time the way his eyes roamed from one closed door to the other. “And +very well fitted out too. Here, for instance,” I continued, reaching +over the back of my seat negligently and flinging the door open, “is my +bath-room.” + +He made an eager movement, but hardly gave it a glance. I got up, shut +the door of the bath-room, and invited him to have a look round, as if I +were very proud of my accommodation. He had to rise and be shown round, +but he went through the business without any raptures whatever. + +“And now we’ll have a look at my stateroom,” I declared, in a voice as +loud as I dared to make it, crossing the cabin to the starboard side with +purposely heavy steps. + +He followed me in and gazed around. My intelligent double had vanished. +I played my part. + +“Very convenient—isn’t it?” + +“Very nice. Very comf. . . ” He didn’t finish, and went out brusquely +as if to escape from some unrighteous wiles of mine. But it was not to +be. I had been too frightened not to feel vengeful; I felt I had him on +the run, and I meant to keep him on the run. My polite insistence must +have had something menacing in it, because he gave in suddenly. And I +did not let him off a single item; mate’s room, pantry, storerooms, the +very sail-locker which was also under the poop—he had to look into them +all. When at last I showed him out on the quarter-deck he drew a long, +spiritless sigh, and mumbled dismally that he must really be going back +to his ship now. I desired my mate, who had joined us, to see to the +captain’s boat. + +The man of whiskers gave a blast on the whistle which he used to wear +hanging round his neck, and yelled, “_Sephoras_ away!” My double down +there in my cabin must have heard, and certainly could not feel more +relieved than I. Four fellows came running out from somewhere forward +and went over the side, while my own men, appearing on deck too, lined +the rail. I escorted my visitor to the gangway ceremoniously, and nearly +overdid it. He was a tenacious beast. On the very ladder he lingered, +and in that unique, guiltily conscientious manner of sticking to the +point: + +“I say . . . you . . . you don’t think that—” + +I covered his voice loudly: + +“Certainly not. . . . I am delighted. Good-bye.” + +I had an idea of what he meant to say, and just saved myself by the +privilege of defective hearing. He was too shaken generally to insist, +but my mate, close witness of that parting, looked mystified and his face +took on a thoughtful cast. As I did not want to appear as if I wished to +avoid all communication with my officers, he had the opportunity to +address me. + +“Seems a very nice man. His boat’s crew told our chaps a very +extraordinary story, if what I am told by the steward is true. I suppose +you had it from the captain, sir?” + +“Yes. I had a story from the captain.” + +“A very horrible affair—isn’t it, sir?” + +“It is.” + +“Beats all these tales we hear about murders in Yankee ships.” + +“I don’t think it beats them. I don’t think it resembles them in the +least.” + +“Bless my soul—you don’t say so! But of course I’ve no acquaintance +whatever with American ships, not I, so I couldn’t go against your +knowledge. It’s horrible enough for me. . . . But the queerest part is +that those fellows seemed to have some idea the man was hidden aboard +here. They had really. Did you ever hear of such a thing?” + +“Preposterous—isn’t it?” + +We were walking to and fro athwart the quarterdeck. No one of the crew +forward could be seen (the day was Sunday), and the mate pursued: + +“There was some little dispute about it. Our chaps took offence. ‘As if +we would harbour a thing like that,’ they said. ‘Wouldn’t you like to +look for him in our coal-hole?’ Quite a tiff. But they made it up in +the end. I suppose he did drown himself. Don’t you, sir?” + +“I don’t suppose anything.” + +“You have no doubt in the matter, sir?” + +“None whatever.” + +I left him suddenly. I felt I was producing a bad impression, but with +my double down there it was most trying to be on deck. And it was almost +as trying to be below. Altogether a nerve-trying situation. But on the +whole I felt less torn in two when I was with him. There was no one in +the whole ship whom I dared take into my confidence. Since the hands had +got to know his story, it would have been impossible to pass him off for +any one else, and an accidental discovery was to be dreaded now more than +ever. . . . + +The steward being engaged in laying the table for dinner, we could talk +only with our eyes when I first went down. Later in the afternoon we had +a cautious try at whispering. The Sunday quietness of the ship was +against us; the stillness of air and water around her was against us; the +elements, the men were against us—everything was against us in our secret +partnership; time itself—for this could not go on forever. The very +trust in Providence was, I suppose, denied to his guilt. Shall I confess +that this thought cast me down very much? And as to the chapter of +accidents which counts for so much in the book of success, I could only +hope that it was closed. For what favourable accident could be expected? + +“Did you hear everything?” were my first words as soon as we took up our +position side by side, leaning over my bed-place. + +He had. And the proof of it was his earnest whisper, “The man told you +he hardly dared to give the order.” + +I understood the reference to be to that saving foresail. + +“Yes. He was afraid of it being lost in the setting.” + +“I assure you he never gave the order. He may think he did, but he never +gave it. He stood there with me on the break of the poop after the +maintopsail blew away, and whimpered about our last hope—positively +whimpered about it and nothing else—and the night coming on! To hear +one’s skipper go on like that in such weather was enough to drive any +fellow out of his mind. It worked me up into a sort of desperation. I +just took it into my own hands and went away from him, boiling, and— But +what’s the use telling you? _You_ know! . . . Do you think that if I had +not been pretty fierce with them I should have got the men to do +anything? Not it! The bo’s’n perhaps? Perhaps! It wasn’t a heavy +sea—it was a sea gone mad! I suppose the end of the world will be +something like that; and a man may have the heart to see it coming once +and be done with it—but to have to face it day after day—I don’t blame +anybody. I was precious little better than the rest. Only—I was an +officer of that old coal-waggon, anyhow—” + +“I quite understand,” I conveyed that sincere assurance into his ear. He +was out of breath with whispering; I could hear him pant slightly. It +was all very simple. The same strung-up force which had given +twenty-four men a chance, at least, for their lives, had, in a sort of +recoil, crushed an unworthy mutinous existence. + +But I had no leisure to weigh the merits of the matter—footsteps in the +saloon, a heavy knock. “There’s enough wind to get under way with, sir.” +Here was the call of a new claim upon my thoughts and even upon my +feelings. + +“Turn the hands up,” I cried through the door. “I’ll be on deck +directly.” + +I was going out to make the acquaintance of my ship. Before I left the +cabin our eyes met—the eyes of the only two strangers on board. I +pointed to the recessed part where the little camp-stool awaited him and +laid my finger on my lips. He made a gesture—somewhat vague—a little +mysterious, accompanied by a faint smile, as if of regret. + +This is not the place to enlarge upon the sensations of a man who feels +for the first time a ship move under his feet to his own independent +word. In my case they were not unalloyed. I was not wholly alone with +my command; for there was that stranger in my cabin. Or rather, I was +not completely and wholly with her. Part of me was absent. That mental +feeling of being in two places at once affected me physically as if the +mood of secrecy had penetrated my very soul. Before an hour had elapsed +since the ship had begun to move, having occasion to ask the mate (he +stood by my side) to take a compass bearing of the Pagoda, I caught +myself reaching up to his ear in whispers. I say I caught myself, but +enough had escaped to startle the man. I can’t describe it otherwise +than by saying that he shied. A grave, preoccupied manner, as though he +were in possession of some perplexing intelligence, did not leave him +henceforth. A little later I moved away from the rail to look at the +compass with such a stealthy gait that the helmsman noticed it—and I +could not help noticing the unusual roundness of his eyes. These are +trifling instances, though it’s to no commander’s advantage to be +suspected of ludicrous eccentricities. But I was also more seriously +affected. There are to a seaman certain words, gestures, that should in +given conditions come as naturally, as instinctively as the winking of a +menaced eye. A certain order should spring on to his lips without +thinking; a certain sign should get itself made, so to speak, without +reflection. But all unconscious alertness had abandoned me. I had to +make an effort of will to recall myself back (from the cabin) to the +conditions of the moment. I felt that I was appearing an irresolute +commander to those people who were watching me more or less critically. + +And, besides, there were the scares. On the second day out, for +instance, coming off the deck in the afternoon (I had straw slippers on +my bare feet) I stopped at the open pantry door and spoke to the steward. +He was doing something there with his back to me. At the sound of my +voice he nearly jumped out of his skin, as the saying is, and +incidentally broke a cup. + +“What on earth’s the matter with you?” I asked, astonished. + +He was extremely confused. “Beg your pardon, sir. I made sure you were +in your cabin.” + +“You see I wasn’t.” + +“No, sir. I could have sworn I had heard you moving in there not a +moment ago. It’s most extraordinary . . . very sorry, sir.” + +I passed on with an inward shudder. I was so identified with my secret +double that I did not even mention the fact in those scanty, fearful +whispers we exchanged. I suppose he had made some slight noise of some +kind or other. It would have been miraculous if he hadn’t at one time or +another. And yet, haggard as he appeared, he looked always perfectly +self-controlled, more than calm—almost invulnerable. On my suggestion he +remained almost entirely in the bathroom, which, upon the whole, was the +safest place. There could be really no shadow of an excuse for any one +ever wanting to go in there, once the steward had done with it. It was a +very tiny place. Sometimes he reclined on the floor, his legs bent, his +head sustained on one elbow. At others I would find him on the +camp-stool, sitting in his grey sleeping-suit and with his cropped dark +hair like a patient, unmoved convict. At night I would smuggle him into +my bed-place, and we would whisper together, with the regular footfalls +of the officer of the watch passing and repassing over our heads. It was +an infinitely miserable time. It was lucky that some tins of fine +preserves were stowed in a locker in my stateroom; hard bread I could +always get hold of; and so he lived on stewed chicken, paté de foie gras, +asparagus, cooked oysters, sardines—on all sorts of abominable sham +delicacies out of tins. My early morning coffee he always drank; and it +was all I dared do for him in that respect. + +Every day there was the horrible manoeuvring to go through so that my +room and then the bath-room should be done in the usual way. I came to +hate the sight of the steward, to abhor the voice of that harmless man. +I felt that it was he who would bring on the disaster of discovery. It +hung like a sword over our heads. + +The fourth day out, I think (we were then working down the east side of +the Gulf of Siam, tack for tack, in light winds and smooth water)—the +fourth day, I say, of this miserable juggling with the unavoidable, as we +sat at our evening meal, that man, whose slightest movement I dreaded, +after putting down the dishes ran up on deck busily. This could not be +dangerous. Presently he came down again; and then it appeared that he +had remembered a coat of mine which I had thrown over a rail to dry after +having been wetted in a shower which had passed over the ship in the +afternoon. Sitting stolidly at the head of the table I became terrified +at the sight of the garment on his arm. Of course he made for my door. +There was no time to lose. + +“Steward,” I thundered. My nerves were so shaken that I could not govern +my voice and conceal my agitation. This was the sort of thing that made +my terrifically whiskered mate tap his forehead with his forefinger. I +had detected him using that gesture while talking on deck with a +confidential air to the carpenter. It was too far to hear a word, but I +had no doubt that this pantomime could only refer to the strange new +captain. + +“Yes, sir,” the pale-faced steward turned resignedly to me. It was this +maddening course of being shouted at, checked without rhyme or reason, +arbitrarily chased out of my cabin, suddenly called into it, sent flying +out of his pantry on incomprehensible errands, that accounted for the +growing wretchedness of his expression. + +“Where are you going with that coat?” + +“To your room, sir.” + +“Is there another shower coming?” + +“I’m sure I don’t know, sir. Shall I go up again and see, sir?” + +“No! never mind.” + +My object was attained, as of course my other self in there would have +heard everything that passed. During this interlude my two officers +never raised their eyes off their respective plates; but the lip of that +confounded cub, the second mate, quivered visibly. + +I expected the steward to hook my coat on and come out at once. He was +very slow about it; but I dominated my nervousness sufficiently not to +shout after him. Suddenly I became aware (it could be heard plainly +enough) that the fellow for some reason or other was opening the door of +the bath-room. It was the end. The place was literally not big enough +to swing a cat in. My voice died in my throat and I went stony all over. +I expected to hear a yell of surprise and terror, and made a movement, +but had not the strength to get on my legs. Everything remained still. +Had my second self taken the poor wretch by the throat? I don’t know +what I would have done next moment if I had not seen the steward come out +of my room, close the door, and then stand quietly by the sideboard. + +“Saved,” I thought. “But, no! Lost! Gone! He was gone!” + +I laid my knife and fork down and leaned back in my chair. My head swam. +After a while, when sufficiently recovered to speak in a steady voice, I +instructed my mate to put the ship round at eight o’clock himself. + +“I won’t come on deck,” I went on. “I think I’ll turn in, and unless the +wind shifts I don’t want to be disturbed before midnight. I feel a bit +seedy.” + +“You did look middling bad a little while ago,” the chief mate remarked +without showing any great concern. + +They both went out, and I stared at the steward clearing the table. +There was nothing to be read on that wretched man’s face. But why did he +avoid my eyes I asked myself. Then I thought I should like to hear the +sound of his voice. + +“Steward!” + +“Sir!” Startled as usual. + +“Where did you hang up that coat?” + +“In the bath-room, sir.” The usual anxious tone. “It’s not quite dry +yet, sir.” + +For some time longer I sat in the cuddy. Had my double vanished as he +had come? But of his coming there was an explanation, whereas his +disappearance would be inexplicable. . . . I went slowly into my dark +room, shut the door, lighted the lamp, and for a time dared not turn +round. When at last I did I saw him standing bolt-upright in the narrow +recessed part. It would not be true to say I had a shock, but an +irresistible doubt of his bodily existence flitted through my mind. Can +it be, I asked myself, that he is not visible to other eyes than mine? +It was like being haunted. Motionless, with a grave face, he raised his +hands slightly at me in a gesture which meant clearly, “Heavens! what a +narrow escape!” Narrow indeed. I think I had come creeping quietly as +near insanity as any man who has not actually gone over the border. That +gesture restrained me, so to speak. + +The mate with the terrific whiskers was now putting the ship on the other +tack. In the moment of profound silence which follows upon the hands +going to their stations I heard on the poop his raised voice: “Hard +alee!” and the distant shout of the order repeated on the maindeck. The +sails, in that light breeze, made but a faint fluttering noise. It +ceased. The ship was coming round slowly; I held my breath in the +renewed stillness of expectation; one wouldn’t have thought that there +was a single living soul on her decks. A sudden brisk shout, “Mainsail +haul!” broke the spell, and in the noisy cries and rush overhead of the +men running away with the main-brace we two, down in my cabin, came +together in our usual position by the bed-place. + +He did not wait for my question. “I heard him fumbling here and just +managed to squat myself down in the bath,” he whispered to me. “The +fellow only opened the door and put his arm in to hang the coat up. All +the same—” + +“I never thought of that,” I whispered back, even more appalled than +before at the closeness of the shave, and marvelling at that something +unyielding in his character which was carrying him through so finely. +There was no agitation in his whisper. Whoever was being driven +distracted, it was not he. He was sane. And the proof of his sanity was +continued when he took up the whispering again. + +“It would never do for me to come to life again.” + +It was something that a ghost might have said. But what he was alluding +to was his old captain’s reluctant admission of the theory of suicide. +It would obviously serve his turn—if I had understood at all the view +which seemed to govern the unalterable purpose of his action. + +“You must maroon me as soon as ever you can get amongst these islands off +the Cambodje shore,” he went on. + +“Maroon you! We are not living in a boy’s adventure tale,” I protested. +His scornful whispering took me up. + +“We aren’t indeed! There’s nothing of a boy’s tale in this. But there’s +nothing else for it. I want no more. You don’t suppose I am afraid of +what can be done to me? Prison or gallows or whatever they may please. +But you don’t see me coming back to explain such things to an old fellow +in a wig and twelve respectable tradesmen, do you? What can they know +whether I am guilty or not—or of _what_ I am guilty, either? That’s my +affair. What does the Bible say? ‘Driven off the face of the earth.’ +Very well. I am off the face of the earth now. As I came at night so I +shall go.” + +“Impossible!” I murmured. “You can’t.” + +“Can’t? . . . Not naked like a soul on the Day of Judgment. I shall +freeze on to this sleeping-suit. The Last Day is not yet—and you have +understood thoroughly. Didn’t you?” + +I felt suddenly ashamed of myself. I may say truly that I understood—and +my hesitation in letting that man swim away from my ship’s side had been +a mere sham sentiment, a sort of cowardice. + +“It can’t be done now till next night,” I breathed out. “The ship is on +the off-shore tack and the wind may fail us.” + +“As long as I know that you understand,” he whispered. “But of course +you do. It’s a great satisfaction to have got somebody to understand. +You seem to have been there on purpose.” And in the same whisper, as if +we two whenever we talked had to say things to each other which were not +fit for the world to hear, he added, “It’s very wonderful.” We remained +side by side talking in our secret way—but sometimes silent or just +exchanging a whispered word or two at long intervals. And as usual he +stared through the port. A breath of wind came now and again into our +faces. The ship might have been moored in dock, so gently and on an even +keel she slipped through the water, that did not murmur even at our +passage, shadowy and silent like a phantom sea. + +At midnight I went on deck, and to my mate’s great surprise put the ship +round on the other tack. His terrible whiskers flitted round me in +silent criticism. I certainly should not have done it if it had been +only a question of getting out of that sleepy gulf as quickly as +possible. I believe he told the second mate, who relieved him, that it +was a great want of judgment. The other only yawned. That intolerable +cub shuffled about so sleepily and lolled against the rails in such a +slack, improper fashion that I came down on him sharply. + +“Aren’t you properly awake yet?” + +“Yes, sir! I am awake.” + +“Well, then, be good enough to hold yourself as if you were. And keep a +look-out. If there’s any current we’ll be closing with some islands +before daylight.” + +The east side of the gulf is fringed with islands, some solitary, others +in groups. On the blue background of the high coast they seem to float +on silvery patches of calm water, arid and grey, or dark green and +rounded like clumps of evergreen bushes, with the larger ones, a mile or +two long, showing the outlines of ridges, ribs of grey rock under the +dank mantle of matted leafage. Unknown to trade, to travel, almost to +geography, the manner of life they harbour is an unsolved secret. There +must be villages—settlements of fishermen at least—on the largest of +them, and some communication with the world is probably kept up by native +craft. But all that forenoon, as we headed for them, fanned along by the +faintest of breezes, I saw no sign of man or canoe in the field of the +telescope I kept on pointing at the scattered group. + +At noon I gave no orders for a change of course, and the mate’s whiskers +became much concerned and seemed to be offering themselves unduly to my +notice. At last I said: + +“I am going to stand right in. Quite in—as far as I can take her.” + +The stare of extreme surprise imparted an air of ferocity also to his +eyes, and he looked truly terrific for a moment. + +“We’re not doing well in the middle of the gulf,” I continued, casually. +“I am going to look for the land breezes to-night.” + +“Bless my soul! Do you mean, sir, in the dark amongst the lot of all +them islands and reefs and shoals?” + +“Well—if there are any regular land breezes at all on this coast one must +get close inshore to find them, mustn’t one?” + +“Bless my soul!” he exclaimed again under his breath. All that afternoon +he wore a dreamy, contemplative appearance which in him was a mark of +perplexity. After dinner I went into my stateroom as if I meant to take +some rest. There we two bent our dark heads over a half-unrolled chart +lying on my bed. + +“There,” I said. “It’s got to be Koh-ring. I’ve been looking at it ever +since sunrise. It has got two hills and a low point. It must be +inhabited. And on the coast opposite there is what looks like the mouth +of a biggish river—with some town, no doubt, not far up. It’s the best +chance for you that I can see.” + +“Anything. Koh-ring let it be.” + +He looked thoughtfully at the chart as if surveying chances and distances +from a lofty height—and following with his eyes his own figure wandering +on the blank land of Cochin-China, and then passing off that piece of +paper clean out of sight into uncharted regions. And it was as if the +ship had two captains to plan her course for her. I had been so worried +and restless running up and down that I had not had the patience to dress +that day. I had remained in my sleeping-suit, with straw slippers and a +soft floppy hat. The closeness of the heat in the gulf had been most +oppressive, and the crew were used to see me wandering in that airy +attire. + +“She will clear the south point as she heads now,” I whispered into his +ear. “Goodness only knows when, though, but certainly after dark. I’ll +edge her in to half a mile, as far as I may be able to judge in the +dark—” + +“Be careful,” he murmured, warningly—and I realised suddenly that all my +future, the only future for which I was fit, would perhaps go +irretrievably to pieces in any mishap to my first command. + +I could not stop a moment longer in the room. I motioned him to get out +of sight and made my way on the poop. That unplayful cub had the watch. +I walked up and down for a while thinking things out, then beckoned him +over. + +“Send a couple of hands to open the two quarterdeck ports,” I said, +mildly. + +He actually had the impudence, or else so forgot himself in his wonder at +such an incomprehensible order, as to repeat: + +“Open the quarter-deck ports! What for, sir?” + +“The only reason you need concern yourself about is because I tell you to +do so. Have them open wide and fastened properly.” + +He reddened and went off, but I believe made some jeering remark to the +carpenter as to the sensible practice of ventilating a ship’s +quarter-deck. I know he popped into the mate’s cabin to impart the fact +to him because the whiskers came on deck, as it were by chance, and stole +glances at me from below—for signs of lunacy or drunkenness, I suppose. + +A little before supper, feeling more restless than ever, I rejoined, for +a moment, my second self. And to find him sitting so quietly was +surprising, like something against nature, inhuman. + +I developed my plan in a hurried whisper. + +“I shall stand in as close as I dare and then put her round. I shall +presently find means to smuggle you out of here into the sail-locker, +which communicates with the lobby. But there is an opening, a sort of +square for hauling the sails out, which gives straight on the +quarter-deck and which is never closed in fine weather, so as to give air +to the sails. When the ship’s way is deadened in stays and all the hands +are aft at the main-braces you shall have a clear road to slip out and +get overboard through the open quarter-deck port. I’ve had them both +fastened up. Use a rope’s end to lower yourself into the water so as to +avoid a splash—you know. It could be heard and cause some beastly +complication.” + +He kept silent for a while, then whispered, “I understand.” + +“I won’t be there to see you go,” I began with an effort. “The rest . . . +I only hope I have understood, too.” + +“You have. From first to last”—and for the first time there seemed to be +a faltering, something strained in his whisper. He caught hold of my +arm, but the ringing of the supper bell made me start. He didn’t, +though; he only released his grip. + +After supper I didn’t come below again till well past eight o’clock. The +faint, steady breeze was loaded with dew; and the wet, darkened sails +held all there was of propelling power in it. The night, clear and +starry, sparkled darkly, and the opaque, lightless patches shifting +slowly against the low stars were the drifting islets. On the port bow +there was a big one more distant and shadowily imposing by the great +space of sky it eclipsed. + +On opening the door I had a back view of my very own self looking at a +chart. He had come out of the recess and was standing near the table. + +“Quite dark enough,” I whispered. + +He stepped back and leaned against my bed with a level, quiet glance. I +sat on the couch. We had nothing to say to each other. Over our heads +the officer of the watch moved here and there. Then I heard him move +quickly. I knew what that meant. He was making for the companion; and +presently his voice was outside my door. + +“We are drawing in pretty fast, sir. Land looks rather close.” + +“Very well,” I answered. “I am coming on deck directly.” + +I waited till he was gone out of the cuddy, then rose. My double moved +too. The time had come to exchange our last whispers, for neither of us +was ever to hear each other’s natural voice. + +“Look here!” I opened a drawer and took out three sovereigns. “Take +this, anyhow. I’ve got six and I’d give you the lot, only I must keep a +little money to buy some fruit and vegetables for the crew from native +boats as we go through Sunda Straits.” + +He shook his head. + +“Take it,” I urged him, whispering desperately. “No one can tell what—” + +He smiled and slapped meaningly the only pocket of the sleeping-jacket. +It was not safe, certainly. But I produced a large old silk handkerchief +of mine, and tying the three pieces of gold in a corner, pressed it on +him. He was touched, I suppose, because he took it at last and tied it +quickly round his waist under the jacket, on his bare skin. + +Our eyes met; several seconds elapsed, till, our glances still mingled, I +extended my hand and turned the lamp out. Then I passed through the +cuddy, leaving the door of my room wide open. . . . . “Steward!” + +He was still lingering in the pantry in the greatness of his zeal, giving +a rub-up to a plated cruet stand the last thing before going to bed. +Being careful not to wake up the mate, whose room was opposite, I spoke +in an undertone. + +He looked round anxiously. “Sir!” + +“Can you get me a little hot water from the galley?” + +“I am afraid, sir, the galley fire’s been out for some time now.” + +“Go and see.” + +He fled up the stairs. + +“Now,” I whispered, loudly, into the saloon—too loudly, perhaps, but I +was afraid I couldn’t make a sound. He was by my side in an instant—the +double captain slipped past the stairs—through a tiny dark passage . . . +a sliding door. We were in the sail-locker, scrambling on our knees over +the sails. A sudden thought struck me. I saw myself wandering +barefooted, bareheaded, the sun beating on my dark poll. I snatched off +my floppy hat and tried hurriedly in the dark to ram it on my other self. +He dodged and fended off silently. I wonder what he thought had come to +me before he understood and suddenly desisted. Our hands met gropingly, +lingered united in a steady, motionless clasp for a second. . . . No word +was breathed by either of us when they separated. + +I was standing quietly by the pantry door when the steward returned. + +“Sorry, sir. Kettle barely warm. Shall I light the spirit-lamp?” + +“Never mind.” + +I came out on deck slowly. It was now a matter of conscience to shave +the land as close as possible—for now he must go overboard whenever the +ship was put in stays. Must! There could be no going back for him. +After a moment I walked over to leeward and my heart flew into my mouth +at the nearness of the land on the bow. Under any other circumstances I +would not have held on a minute longer. The second mate had followed me +anxiously. + +I looked on till I felt I could command my voice. “She will weather,” I +said then in a quiet tone. “Are you going to try that, sir?” he +stammered out incredulously. + +I took no notice of him and raised my tone just enough to be heard by the +helmsman. + +“Keep her good full.” + +“Good full, sir.” + +The wind fanned my cheek, the sails slept, the world was silent. The +strain of watching the dark loom of the land grow bigger and denser was +too much for me. I had shut my eyes—because the ship must go closer. +She must! The stillness was intolerable. Were we standing still? + +When I opened my eyes the second view started my heart with a thump. The +black southern hill of Koh-ring seemed to hang right over the ship like a +towering fragment of the everlasting night. On that enormous mass of +blackness there was not a gleam to be seen, not a sound to be heard. It +was gliding irresistibly toward us and yet seemed already within reach of +the hand. I saw the vague figures of the watch grouped in the waist, +gazing in awed silence. + +“Are you going on, sir,” inquired an unsteady voice at my elbow. + +I ignored it. I had to go on. + +“Keep her full. Don’t check her way. That won’t do now,” I said, +warningly. + +“I can’t see the sails very well,” the helmsman answered me, in strange, +quavering tones. + +Was she close enough? Already she was, I won’t say in the shadow of the +land, but in the very blackness of it, already swallowed up as it were, +gone too close to be recalled, gone from me altogether. + +“Give the mate a call,” I said to the young man who stood at my elbow as +still as death. “And turn all hands up.” + +My tone had a borrowed loudness reverberated from the height of the land. +Several voices cried out together: “We are all on deck, sir.” + +Then stillness again, with the great shadow gliding closer, towering +higher, without a light, without a sound. Such a hush had fallen on the +ship that she might have been a bark of the dead floating in slowly under +the very gate of Erebus. + +“My God! Where are we?” + +It was the mate moaning at my elbow. He was thunderstruck, and as it +were deprived of the moral support of his whiskers. He clapped his hands +and absolutely cried out, “Lost!” + +“Be quiet,” I said, sternly. + +He lowered his tone, but I saw the shadowy gesture of his despair. “What +are we doing here?” + +“Looking for the land wind.” + +He made as if to tear his hair, and addressed me recklessly. + +“She will never get out. You have done it, sir. I knew it’d end in +something like this. She will never weather, and you are too close now +to stay. She’ll drift ashore before she’s round. O my God!” + +I caught his arm as he was raising it to batter his poor devoted head, +and shook it violently. + +“She’s ashore already,” he wailed, trying to tear himself away. + +“Is she? . . . Keep good full there!” + +“Good full, sir,” cried the helmsman in a frightened, thin, child-like +voice. + +I hadn’t let go the mate’s arm and went on shaking it. “Ready about, do +you hear? You go forward”—shake—“and stop there”—shake—“and hold your +noise”—shake—“and see these head-sheets properly overhauled”—shake, +shake—shake. + +And all the time I dared not look toward the land lest my heart should +fail me. I released my grip at last and he ran forward as if fleeing for +dear life. + +I wondered what my double there in the sail-locker thought of this +commotion. He was able to hear everything—and perhaps he was able to +understand why, on my conscience, it had to be thus close—no less. My +first order “Hard alee!” re-echoed ominously under the towering shadow of +Koh-ring as if I had shouted in a mountain gorge. And then I watched the +land intently. In that smooth water and light wind it was impossible to +feel the ship coming-to. No! I could not feel her. And my second self +was making now ready to slip out and lower himself overboard. Perhaps he +was gone already . . .? + +The great black mass brooding over our very mastheads began to pivot away +from the ship’s side silently. And now I forgot the secret stranger +ready to depart, and remembered only that I was a total stranger to the +ship. I did not know her. Would she do it? How was she to be handled? + +I swung the mainyard and waited helplessly. She was perhaps stopped, and +her very fate hung in the balance, with the black mass of Koh-ring like +the gate of the everlasting night towering over her taffrail. What would +she do now? Had she way on her yet? I stepped to the side swiftly, and +on the shadowy water I could see nothing except a faint phosphorescent +flash revealing the glassy smoothness of the sleeping surface. It was +impossible to tell—and I had not learned yet the feel of my ship. Was +she moving? What I needed was something easily seen, a piece of paper, +which I could throw overboard and watch. I had nothing on me. To run +down for it I didn’t dare. There was no time. All at once my strained, +yearning stare distinguished a white object floating within a yard of the +ship’s side. White on the black water. A phosphorescent flash passed +under it. What was that thing? . . . I recognised my own floppy hat. It +must have fallen off his head . . . and he didn’t bother. + +Now I had what I wanted—the saving mark for my eyes. But I hardly +thought of my other self, now gone from the ship, to be hidden forever +from all friendly faces, to be a fugitive and a vagabond on the earth, +with no brand of the curse on his sane forehead to stay a slaying hand +. . . too proud to explain. + +And I watched the hat—the expression of my sudden pity for his mere +flesh. It had been meant to save his homeless head from the dangers of +the sun. And now—behold—it was saving the ship, by serving me for a mark +to help out the ignorance of my strangeness. Ha! It was drifting +forward, warning me just in time that the ship had gathered sternway. + +“Shift the helm,” I said in a low voice to the seaman standing still like +a statue. + +The man’s eyes glistened wildly in the binnacle light as he jumped round +to the other side and spun round the wheel. + +I walked to the break of the poop. On the overshadowed deck all hands +stood by the forebraces waiting for my order. The stars ahead seemed to +be gliding from right to left. And all was so still in the world that I +heard the quiet remark “She’s round,” passed in a tone of intense relief +between two seamen. + +“Let go and haul.” + +The foreyards ran round with a great noise, amidst cheery cries. And now +the frightful whisker’s made themselves heard giving various orders. +Already the ship was drawing ahead. And I was alone with her. Nothing! +no one in the world should stand now between us, throwing a shadow on the +way of silent knowledge and mute affection, the perfect communion of a +seaman with his first command. + +Walking to the taffrail, I was in time to make out, on the very edge of a +darkness thrown by a towering black mass like the very gateway of +Erebus—yes, I was in time to catch an evanescent glimpse of my white hat +left behind to mark the spot where the secret sharer of my cabin and of +my thoughts, as though he were my second self, had lowered himself into +the water to take his punishment: a free man, a proud swimmer striking +out for a new destiny. + + + +FREYA OF THE SEVEN ISLES +A STORY OF SHALLOW WATERS +CHAPTER I + + +ONE day—and that day was many years ago now—I received a long, chatty +letter from one of my old chums and fellow-wanderers in Eastern waters. +He was still out there, but settled down, and middle-aged; I imagined +him—grown portly in figure and domestic in his habits; in short, +overtaken by the fate common to all except to those who, being specially +beloved by the gods, get knocked on the head early. The letter was of +the reminiscent “do you remember” kind—a wistful letter of backward +glances. And, amongst other things, “surely you remember old Nelson,” he +wrote. + +Remember old Nelson! Certainly. And to begin with, his name was not +Nelson. The Englishmen in the Archipelago called him Nelson because it +was more convenient, I suppose, and he never protested. It would have +been mere pedantry. The true form of his name was Nielsen. He had come +out East long before the advent of telegraph cables, had served English +firms, had married an English girl, had been one of us for years, trading +and sailing in all directions through the Eastern Archipelago, across and +around, transversely, diagonally, perpendicularly, in semi-circles, and +zigzags, and figures of eights, for years and years. + +There was no nook or cranny of these tropical waters that the enterprise +of old Nelson (or Nielsen) had not penetrated in an eminently pacific +way. His tracks, if plotted out, would have covered the map of the +Archipelago like a cobweb—all of it, with the sole exception of the +Philippines. He would never approach that part, from a strange dread of +Spaniards, or, to be exact, of the Spanish authorities. What he imagined +they could do to him it is impossible to say. Perhaps at some time in +his life he had read some stories of the Inquisition. + +But he was in general afraid of what he called “authorities”; not the +English authorities, which he trusted and respected, but the other two of +that part of the world. He was not so horrified at the Dutch as he was +at the Spaniards, but he was even more mistrustful of them. Very +mistrustful indeed. The Dutch, in his view, were capable of “playing any +ugly trick on a man” who had the misfortune to displease them. There +were their laws and regulations, but they had no notion of fair play in +applying them. It was really pitiable to see the anxious circumspection +of his dealings with some official or other, and remember that this man +had been known to stroll up to a village of cannibals in New Guinea in a +quiet, fearless manner (and note that he was always fleshy all his life, +and, if I may say so, an appetising morsel) on some matter of barter that +did not amount perhaps to fifty pounds in the end. + +Remember old Nelson! Rather! Truly, none of us in my generation had +known him in his active days. He was “retired” in our time. He had +bought, or else leased, part of a small island from the Sultan of a +little group called the Seven Isles, not far north from Banka. It was, I +suppose, a legitimate transaction, but I have no doubt that had he been +an Englishman the Dutch would have discovered a reason to fire him out +without ceremony. In this connection the real form of his name stood him +in good stead. In the character of an unassuming Dane whose conduct was +most correct, they let him be. With all his money engaged in cultivation +he was naturally careful not to give even the shadow of offence, and it +was mostly for prudential reasons of that sort that he did not look with +a favourable eye on Jasper Allen. But of that later. Yes! One +remembered well enough old Nelson’s big, hospitable bungalow erected on a +shelving point of land, his portly form, costumed generally in a white +shirt and trousers (he had a confirmed habit of taking off his alpaca +jacket on the slightest provocation), his round blue eyes, his straggly, +sandy-white moustache sticking out all ways like the quills of the +fretful porcupine, his propensity to sit down suddenly and fan himself +with his hat. But there’s no use concealing the fact that what one +remembered really was his daughter, who at that time came out to live +with him—and be a sort of Lady of the Isles. + +Freya Nelson (or Nielsen) was the kind of girl one remembers. The oval +of her face was perfect; and within that fascinating frame the most happy +disposition of line and feature, with an admirable complexion, gave an +impression of health, strength, and what I might call unconscious +self-confidence—a most pleasant and, as it were, whimsical determination. +I will not compare her eyes to violets, because the real shade of their +colour was peculiar, not so dark and more lustrous. They were of the +wide-open kind, and looked at one frankly in every mood. I never did see +the long, dark eyelashes lowered—I dare say Jasper Allen did, being a +privileged person—but I have no doubt that the expression must have been +charming in a complex way. She could—Jasper told me once with a +touchingly imbecile exultation—sit on her hair. I dare say, I dare say. +It was not for me to behold these wonders; I was content to admire the +neat and becoming way she used to do it up so as not to conceal the good +shape of her head. And this wealth of hair was so glossy that when the +screens of the west verandah were down, making a pleasant twilight there, +or in the shade of the grove of fruit-trees near the house, it seemed to +give out a golden light of its own. + +She dressed generally in a white frock, with a skirt of walking length, +showing her neat, laced, brown boots. If there was any colour about her +costume it was just a bit of blue perhaps. No exertion seemed to +distress her. I have seen her land from the dinghy after a long pull in +the sun (she rowed herself about a good deal) with no quickened breath +and not a single hair out of its place. In the morning when she came out +on the verandah for the first look westward, Sumatra way, over the sea, +she seemed as fresh and sparkling as a dewdrop. But a dewdrop is +evanescent, and there was nothing evanescent about Freya. I remember her +round, solid arms with the fine wrists, and her broad, capable hands with +tapering fingers. + +I don’t know whether she was actually born at sea, but I do know that up +to twelve years of age she sailed about with her parents in various +ships. After old Nelson lost his wife it became a matter of serious +concern for him what to do with the girl. A kind lady in Singapore, +touched by his dumb grief and deplorable perplexity, offered to take +charge of Freya. This arrangement lasted some six years, during which +old Nelson (or Nielsen) “retired” and established, himself on his island, +and then it was settled (the kind lady going away to Europe) that his +daughter should join him. + +As the first and most important preparation for that event the old fellow +ordered from his Singapore agent a Steyn and Ebhart’s “upright grand.” I +was then commanding a little steamer in the island trade, and it fell to +my lot to take it out to him, so I know something of Freya’s “upright +grand.” We landed the enormous packing-case with difficulty on a flat +piece of rock amongst some bushes, nearly knocking the bottom out of one +of my boats in the course of that nautical operation. Then, all my crew +assisting, engineers and firemen included, by the exercise of much +anxious ingenuity, and by means of rollers, levers, tackles, and inclined +planes of soaped planks, toiling in the sun like ancient Egyptians at the +building of a pyramid, we got it as far as the house and up on to the +edge of the west verandah—which was the actual drawing-room of the +bungalow. There, the case being ripped off cautiously, the beautiful +rosewood monster stood revealed at last. In reverent excitement we +coaxed it against the wall and drew the first free breath of the day. It +was certainly the heaviest movable object on that islet since the +creation of the world. The volume of sound it gave out in that bungalow +(which acted as a sounding-board) was really astonishing. It thundered +sweetly right over the sea. Jasper Allen told me that early of a morning +on the deck of the _Bonito_ (his wonderfully fast and pretty brig) he +could hear Freya playing her scales quite distinctly. But the fellow +always anchored foolishly close to the point, as I told him more than +once. Of course, these seas are almost uniformly serene, and the Seven +Isles is a particularly calm and cloudless spot as a rule. But still, +now and again, an afternoon thunderstorm over Banka, or even one of these +vicious thick squalls, from the distant Sumatra coast, would make a +sudden sally upon the group, enveloping it for a couple of hours in +whirlwinds and bluish-black murk of a particularly sinister aspect. +Then, with the lowered rattan-screens rattling desperately in the wind +and the bungalow shaking all over, Freya would sit down to the piano and +play fierce Wagner music in the flicker of blinding flashes, with +thunderbolts falling all round, enough to make your hair stand on end; +and Jasper would remain stock still on the verandah, adoring the back +view of her supple, swaying figure, the miraculous sheen of her fair +head, the rapid hands on the keys, the white nape of her neck—while the +brig, down at the point there, surged at her cables within a hundred +yards of nasty, shiny, black rock-heads. Ugh! + +And this, if you please, for no reason but that, when he went on board at +night and laid his head on the pillow, he should feel that he was as near +as he could conveniently get to his Freya slumbering in the bungalow. +Did you ever! And, mind, this brig was the home to be—their home—the +floating paradise which he was gradually fitting out like a yacht to sail +his life blissfully away in with Freya. Imbecile! But the fellow was +always taking chances. + +One day, I remember I watched with Freya on the verandah the brig +approaching the point from the northward. I suppose Jasper made the girl +out with his long glass. What does he do? Instead of standing on for +another mile and a half along the shoals and then tacking for the +anchorage in a proper and seamanlike manner, he spies a gap between two +disgusting old jagged reefs, puts the helm down suddenly, and shoots the +brig through, with all her sails shaking and rattling, so that we could +hear the racket on the verandah. I drew my breath through my teeth, I +can tell you, and Freya swore. Yes! She clenched her capable fists and +stamped with her pretty brown boot and said “Damn!” Then, looking at me +with a little heightened colour—not much—she remarked, “I forgot you were +there,” and laughed. To be sure, to be sure. When Jasper was in sight +she was not likely to remember that anybody else in the world was there. +In my concern at this mad trick I couldn’t help appealing to her +sympathetic common sense. + +“Isn’t he a fool?” I said with feeling. + +“Perfect idiot,” she agreed warmly, looking at me straight with her +wide-open, earnest eyes and the dimple of a smile on her cheek. + +“And that,” I pointed out to her, “just to save twenty minutes or so in +meeting you.” + +We heard the anchor go down, and then she became very resolute and +threatening. + +“Wait a bit. I’ll teach him.” + +She went into her own room and shut the door, leaving me alone on the +verandah with my instructions. Long before the brig’s sails were furled, +Jasper came up three steps at a time, forgetting to say how d’ye do, and +looking right and left eagerly. + +“Where’s Freya? Wasn’t she here just now?” + +When I explained to him that he was to be deprived of Miss Freya’s +presence for a whole hour, “just to teach him,” he said I had put her up +to it, no doubt, and that he feared he would have yet to shoot me some +day. She and I were getting too thick together. Then he flung himself +into a chair, and tried to talk to me about his trip. But the funny +thing was that the fellow actually suffered. I could see it. His voice +failed him, and he sat there dumb, looking at the door with the face of a +man in pain. Fact. . . . And the next still funnier thing was that the +girl calmly walked out of her room in less than ten minutes. And then I +left. I mean to say that I went away to seek old Nelson (or Nielsen) on +the back verandah, which was his own special nook in the distribution of +that house, with the kind purpose of engaging him in conversation lest he +should start roaming about and intrude unwittingly where he was not +wanted just then. + +He knew that the brig had arrived, though he did not know that Jasper was +already with his daughter. I suppose he didn’t think it was possible in +the time. A father naturally wouldn’t. He suspected that Allen was +sweet on his girl; the fowls of the air and the fishes of the sea, most +of the traders in the Archipelago, and all sorts and conditions of men in +the town of Singapore were aware of it. But he was not capable of +appreciating how far the girl was gone on the fellow. He had an idea +that Freya was too sensible to ever be gone on anybody—I mean to an +unmanageable extent. No; it was not that which made him sit on the back +verandah and worry himself in his unassuming manner during Jasper’s +visits. What he worried about were the Dutch “authorities.” For it is a +fact that the Dutch looked askance at the doings of Jasper Allen, owner +and master of the brig _Bonito_. They considered him much too +enterprising in his trading. I don’t know that he ever did anything +illegal; but it seems to me that his immense activity was repulsive to +their stolid character and slow-going methods. Anyway, in old Nelson’s +opinion, the captain of the _Bonito_ was a smart sailor, and a nice young +man, but not a desirable acquaintance upon the whole. Somewhat +compromising, you understand. On the other hand, he did not like to tell +Jasper in so many words to keep away. Poor old Nelson himself was a nice +fellow. I believe he would have shrunk from hurting the feelings even of +a mop-headed cannibal, unless, perhaps, under very strong provocation. I +mean the feelings, not the bodies. As against spears, knives, hatchets, +clubs, or arrows, old Nelson had proved himself capable of taking his own +part. In every other respect he had a timorous soul. So he sat on the +back verandah with a concerned expression, and whenever the voices of his +daughter and Jasper Allen reached him, he would blow out his cheeks and +let the air escape with a dismal sound, like a much tried man. + +Naturally I derided his fears which he, more or less, confided to me. He +had a certain regard for my judgment, and a certain respect, not for my +moral qualities, however, but for the good terms I was supposed to be on +with the Dutch “authorities.” I knew for a fact that his greatest +bugbear, the Governor of Banka—a charming, peppery, hearty, retired +rear-admiral—had a distinct liking for him. This consoling assurance +which I used always to put forward, made old Nelson (or Nielsen) brighten +up for a moment; but in the end he would shake his head doubtfully, as +much as to say that this was all very well, but that there were depths in +the Dutch official nature which no one but himself had ever fathomed. +Perfectly ridiculous. + +On this occasion I am speaking of, old Nelson was even fretty; for while +I was trying to entertain him with a very funny and somewhat scandalous +adventure which happened to a certain acquaintance of ours in Saigon, he +exclaimed suddenly: + +“What the devil he wants to turn up here for!” + +Clearly he had not heard a word of the anecdote. And this annoyed me, +because the anecdote was really good. I stared at him. + +“Come, come!” I cried. “Don’t you know what Jasper Allen is turning up +here for?” + +This was the first open allusion I had ever made to the true state of +affairs between Jasper and his daughter. He took it very calmly. + +“Oh, Freya is a sensible girl!” he murmured absently, his mind’s eye +obviously fixed on the “authorities.” No; Freya was no fool. He was not +concerned about that. He didn’t mind it in the least. The fellow was +just company for her; he amused the girl; nothing more. + +When the perspicacious old chap left off mumbling, all was still in the +house. The other two were amusing themselves very quietly, and no doubt +very heartily. What more absorbing and less noisy amusement could they +have found than to plan their future? Side by side on the verandah they +must have been looking at the brig, the third party in that fascinating +game. Without her there would have been no future. She was the fortune +and the home, and the great free world for them. Who was it that likened +a ship to a prison? May I be ignominiously hanged at a yardarm if that’s +true. The white sails of that craft were the white wings—pinions, I +believe, would be the more poetical style—well, the white pinions, of +their soaring love. Soaring as regards Jasper. Freya, being a woman, +kept a better hold of the mundane connections of this affair. + +But Jasper was elevated in the true sense of the word ever since the day +when, after they had been gazing at the brig in one of those decisive +silences that alone establish a perfect communion between creatures +gifted with speech, he proposed that she should share the ownership of +that treasure with him. Indeed, he presented the brig to her altogether. +But then his heart was in the brig since the day he bought her in Manilla +from a certain middle-aged Peruvian, in a sober suit of black broadcloth, +enigmatic and sententious, who, for all I know, might have stolen her on +the South American coast, whence he said he had come over to the +Philippines “for family reasons.” This “for family reasons” was +distinctly good. No true _caballero_ would care to push on inquiries +after such a statement. + +Indeed, Jasper was quite the _caballero_. The brig herself was then all +black and enigmatical, and very dirty; a tarnished gem of the sea, or, +rather, a neglected work of art. For he must have been an artist, the +obscure builder who had put her body together on lovely lines out of the +hardest tropical timber fastened with the purest copper. Goodness only +knows in what part of the world she was built. Jasper himself had not +been able to ascertain much of her history from his sententious, +saturnine Peruvian—if the fellow was a Peruvian, and not the devil +himself in disguise, as Jasper jocularly pretended to believe. My +opinion is that she was old enough to have been one of the last pirates, +a slaver perhaps, or else an opium clipper of the early days, if not an +opium smuggler. + +However that may be, she was as sound as on the day she first took the +water, sailed like a witch, steered like a little boat, and, like some +fair women of adventurous life famous in history, seemed to have the +secret of perpetual youth; so that there was nothing unnatural in Jasper +Allen treating her like a lover. And that treatment restored the lustre +of her beauty. He clothed her in many coats of the very best white paint +so skilfully, carefully, artistically put on and kept clean by his +badgered crew of picked Malays, that no costly enamel such as jewellers +use for their work could have looked better and felt smoother to the +touch. A narrow gilt moulding defined her elegant sheer as she sat on +the water, eclipsing easily the professional good looks of any pleasure +yacht that ever came to the East in those days. For myself, I must say I +prefer a moulding of deep crimson colour on a white hull. It gives a +stronger relief besides being less expensive; and I told Jasper so. But +no, nothing less than the best gold-leaf would do, because no decoration +could be gorgeous enough for the future abode of his Freya. + +His feelings for the brig and for the girl were as indissolubly united in +his heart as you may fuse two precious metals together in one crucible. +And the flame was pretty hot, I can assure you. It induced in him a +fierce inward restlessness both of activity and desire. Too fine in +face, with a lateral wave in his chestnut hair, spare, long-limbed, with +an eager glint in his steely eyes and quick, brusque movements, he made +me think sometimes of a flashing sword-blade perpetually leaping out of +the scabbard. It was only when he was near the girl, when he had her +there to look at, that this peculiarly tense attitude was replaced by a +grave devout watchfulness of her slightest movements and utterances. Her +cool, resolute, capable, good-humoured self-possession seemed to steady +his heart. Was it the magic of her face, of her voice, of her glances +which calmed him so? Yet these were the very things one must believe +which had set his imagination ablaze—if love begins in imagination. But +I am no man to discuss such mysteries, and it strikes me that we have +neglected poor old Nelson inflating his cheeks in a state of worry on the +back verandah. + +I pointed out to him that, after all, Jasper was not a very frequent +visitor. He and his brig worked hard all over the Archipelago. But all +old Nelson said, and he said it uneasily, was: + +“I hope Heemskirk won’t turn up here while the brig’s about.” + +Getting up a scare about Heemskirk now! Heemskirk! . . . Really, one +hadn’t the patience— + + + +CHAPTER II + + +FOR, pray, who was Heemskirk? You shall see at once how unreasonable +this dread of Heemskirk. . . . Certainly, his nature was malevolent +enough. That was obvious, directly you heard him laugh. Nothing gives +away more a man’s secret disposition than the unguarded ring of his +laugh. But, bless my soul! if we were to start at every evil guffaw like +a hare at every sound, we shouldn’t be fit for anything but the solitude +of a desert, or the seclusion of a hermitage. And even there we should +have to put up with the unavoidable company of the devil. + +However, the devil is a considerable personage, who has known better days +and has moved high up in the hierarchy of Celestial Host; but in the +hierarchy of mere earthly Dutchmen, Heemskirk, whose early days could not +have been very splendid, was merely a naval officer forty years of age, +of no particular connections or ability to boast of. He was commanding +the _Neptun_, a little gunboat employed on dreary patrol duty up and down +the Archipelago, to look after the traders. Not a very exalted position +truly. I tell you, just a common middle-aged lieutenant of some +twenty-five years’ service and sure to be retired before long—that’s all. + +He never bothered his head very much as to what was going on in the Seven +Isles group till he learned from some talk in Mintok or Palembang, I +suppose, that there was a pretty girl living there. Curiosity, I +presume, caused him to go poking around that way, and then, after he had +once seen Freya, he made a practice of calling at the group whenever he +found himself within half a day’s steaming from it. + +I don’t mean to say that Heemskirk was a typical Dutch naval officer. I +have seen enough of them not to fall into that absurd mistake. He had a +big, clean-shaven face; great flat, brown cheeks, with a thin, hooked +nose and a small, pursy mouth squeezed in between. There were a few +silver threads in his black hair, and his unpleasant eyes were nearly +black, too. He had a surly way of casting side glances without moving +his head, which was set low on a short, round neck. A thick, round trunk +in a dark undress jacket with gold shoulder-straps, was sustained by a +straddly pair of thick, round legs, in white drill trousers. His round +skull under a white cap looked as if it were immensely thick too, but +there were brains enough in it to discover and take advantage maliciously +of poor old Nelson’s nervousness before everything that was invested with +the merest shred of authority. + +Heemskirk would land on the point and perambulate silently every part of +the plantation as if the whole place belonged to him, before he went to +the house. On the verandah he would take the best chair, and would stay +for tiffin or dinner, just simply stay on, without taking the trouble to +invite himself by so much as a word. + +He ought to have been kicked, if only for his manner to Miss Freya. Had +he been a naked savage, armed with spears and poisoned arrows, old Nelson +(or Nielsen) would have gone for him with his bare fists. But these gold +shoulder-straps—Dutch shoulder-straps at that—were enough to terrify the +old fellow; so he let the beggar treat him with heavy contempt, devour +his daughter with his eyes, and drink the best part of his little stock +of wine. + +I saw something of this, and on one occasion I tried to pass a remark on +the subject. It was pitiable to see the trouble in old Nelson’s round +eyes. At first he cried out that the lieutenant was a good friend of +his; a very good fellow. I went on staring at him pretty hard, so that +at last he faltered, and had to own that, of course, Heemskirk was not a +very genial person outwardly, but all the same at bottom. . . . + +“I haven’t yet met a genial Dutchman out here,” I interrupted. +“Geniality, after all, is not of much consequence, but don’t you see—” + +Nelson looked suddenly so frightened at what I was going to say that I +hadn’t the heart to go on. Of course, I was going to tell him that the +fellow was after his girl. That just describes it exactly. What +Heemskirk might have expected or what he thought he could do, I don’t +know. For all I can tell, he might have imagined himself irresistible, +or have taken Freya for what she was not, on account of her lively, +assured, unconstrained manner. But there it is. He was after that girl. +Nelson could see it well enough. Only he preferred to ignore it. He did +not want to be told of it. + +“All I want is to live in peace and quietness with the Dutch +authorities,” he mumbled shamefacedly. + +He was incurable. I was sorry for him, and I really think Miss Freya was +sorry for her father, too. She restrained herself for his sake, and as +everything she did she did it simply, unaffectedly, and even good +humouredly. No small effort that, because in Heemskirk’s attentions +there was an insolent touch of scorn, hard to put up with. Dutchmen of +that sort are over-bearing to their inferiors, and that officer of the +king looked upon old Nelson and Freya as quite beneath him in every way. + +I can’t say I felt sorry for Freya. She was not the sort of girl to take +anything tragically. One could feel for her and sympathise with her +difficulty, but she seemed equal to any situation. It was rather +admiration she extorted by her competent serenity. It was only when +Jasper and Heemskirk were together at the bungalow, as it happened now +and then, that she felt the strain, and even then it was not for +everybody to see. My eyes alone could detect a faint shadow on the +radiance of her personality. Once I could not help saying to her +appreciatively: + +“Upon my word you are wonderful.” + +She let it pass with a faint smile. + +“The great thing is to prevent Jasper becoming unreasonable,” she said; +and I could see real concern lurking in the quiet depths of her frank +eyes gazing straight at me. “You will help to keep him quiet, won’t +you?” + +“Of course, we must keep him quiet,” I declared, understanding very well +the nature of her anxiety. “He’s such a lunatic, too, when he’s roused.” + +“He is!” she assented, in a soft tone; for it was our joke to speak of +Jasper abusively. “But I have tamed him a bit. He’s quite a good boy +now.” + +“He would squash Heemskirk like a blackbeetle all the same,” I remarked. + +“Rather!” she murmured. “And that wouldn’t do,” she added quickly. +“Imagine the state poor papa would get into. Besides, I mean to be +mistress of the dear brig and sail about these seas, not go off wandering +ten thousand miles away from here.” + +“The sooner you are on board to look after the man and the brig the +better,” I said seriously. “They need you to steady them both a bit. I +don’t think Jasper will ever get sobered down till he has carried you off +from this island. You don’t see him when he is away from you, as I do. +He’s in a state of perpetual elation which almost frightens me.” + +At this she smiled again, and then looked serious. For it could not be +unpleasant to her to be told of her power, and she had some sense of her +responsibility. She slipped away from me suddenly, because Heemskirk, +with old Nelson in attendance at his elbow, was coming up the steps of +the verandah. Directly his head came above the level of the floor his +ill-natured black eyes shot glances here and there. + +“Where’s your girl, Nelson?” he asked, in a tone as if every soul in the +world belonged to him. And then to me: “The goddess has flown, eh?” + +Nelson’s Cove—as we used to call it—was crowded with shipping that day. +There was first my steamer, then the _Neptun_ gunboat further out, and +the _Bonito_, brig, anchored as usual so close inshore that it looked as +if, with a little skill and judgment, one could shy a hat from the +verandah on to her scrupulously holystoned quarter-deck. Her brasses +flashed like gold, her white body-paint had a sheen like a satin robe. +The rake of her varnished spars and the big yards, squared to a hair, +gave her a sort of martial elegance. She was a beauty. No wonder that +in possession of a craft like that and the promise of a girl like Freya, +Jasper lived in a state of perpetual elation fit, perhaps, for the +seventh heaven, but not exactly safe in a world like ours. + +I remarked politely to Heemskirk that, with three guests in the house, +Miss Freya had no doubt domestic matters to attend to. I knew, of +course, that she had gone to meet Jasper at a certain cleared spot on the +banks of the only stream on Nelson’s little island. The commander of the +_Neptun_ gave me a dubious black look, and began to make himself at home, +flinging his thick, cylindrical carcass into a rocking-chair, and +unbuttoning his coat. Old Nelson sat down opposite him in a most +unassuming manner, staring anxiously with his round eyes and fanning +himself with his hat. I tried to make conversation to while the time +away; not an easy task with a morose, enamoured Dutchman constantly +looking from one door to another and answering one’s advances either with +a jeer or a grunt. + +However, the evening passed off all right. Luckily, there is a degree of +bliss too intense for elation. Jasper was quiet and concentrated +silently in watching Freya. As we went on board our respective ships I +offered to give his brig a tow out next morning. I did it on purpose to +get him away at the earliest possible moment. So in the first cold light +of the dawn we passed by the gunboat lying black and still without a +sound in her at the mouth of the glassy cove. But with tropical +swiftness the sun had climbed twice its diameter above the horizon before +we had rounded the reef and got abreast of the point. On the biggest +boulder there stood Freya, all in white and, in her helmet, like a +feminine and martial statue with a rosy face, as I could see very well +with my glasses. She fluttered an expressive handkerchief, and Jasper, +running up the main rigging of the white and warlike brig, waved his hat +in response. Shortly afterwards we parted, I to the northward and Jasper +heading east with a light wind on the quarter, for Banjermassin and two +other ports, I believe it was, that trip. + +This peaceful occasion was the last on which I saw all these people +assembled together; the charmingly fresh and resolute Freya, the +innocently round-eyed old Nelson, Jasper, keen, long limbed, lean faced, +admirably self-contained, in his manner, because inconceivably happy +under the eyes of his Freya; all three tall, fair, and blue-eyed in +varied shades, and amongst them the swarthy, arrogant, black-haired +Dutchman, shorter nearly by a head, and so much thicker than any of them +that he seemed to be a creature capable of inflating itself, a grotesque +specimen of mankind from some other planet. + +The contrast struck me all at once as we stood in the lighted verandah, +after rising from the dinner-table. I was fascinated by it for the rest +of the evening, and I remember the impression of something funny and +ill-omened at the same time in it to this day. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +A FEW weeks later, coming early one morning into Singapore, from a +journey to the southward, I saw the brig lying at anchor in all her usual +symmetry and splendour of aspect as though she had been taken out of a +glass case and put delicately into the water that very moment. + +She was well out in the roadstead, but I steamed in and took up my +habitual berth close in front of the town. Before we had finished +breakfast a quarter-master came to tell me that Captain Allen’s boat was +coming our way. + +His smart gig dashed alongside, and in two bounds he was up our +accommodation-ladder and shaking me by the hand with his nervous grip, +his eyes snapping inquisitively, for he supposed I had called at the +Seven Isles group on my way. I reached into my pocket for a nicely +folded little note, which he grabbed out of my hand without ceremony and +carried off on the bridge to read by himself. After a decent interval I +followed him up there, and found him pacing to and fro; for the nature of +his emotions made him restless even in his most thoughtful moments. + +He shook his head at me triumphantly. + +“Well, my dear boy,” he said, “I shall be counting the days now.” + +I understood what he meant. I knew that those young people had settled +already on a runaway match without official preliminaries. This was +really a logical decision. Old Nelson (or Nielsen) would never have +agreed to give up Freya peaceably to this compromising Jasper. Heavens! +What would the Dutch authorities say to such a match! It sounds too +ridiculous for words. But there’s nothing in the world more selfishly +hard than a timorous man in a fright about his “little estate,” as old +Nelson used to call it in apologetic accents. A heart permeated by a +particular sort of funk is proof against sense, feeling, and ridicule. +It’s a flint. + +Jasper would have made his request all the same and then taken his own +way; but it was Freya who decided that nothing should be said, on the +ground that, “Papa would only worry himself to distraction.” He was +capable of making himself ill, and then she wouldn’t have the heart to +leave him. Here you have the sanity of feminine outlook and the +frankness of feminine reasoning. And for the rest, Miss Freya could read +“poor dear papa” in the way a woman reads a man—like an open book. His +daughter once gone, old Nelson would not worry himself. He would raise a +great outcry, and make no end of lamentable fuss, but that’s not the same +thing. The real agonies of indecision, the anguish of conflicting +feelings would be spared to him. And as he was too unassuming to rage, +he would, after a period of lamentation, devote himself to his “little +estate,” and to keeping on good terms with the authorities. + +Time would do the rest. And Freya thought she could afford to wait, +while ruling over her own home in the beautiful brig and over the man who +loved her. This was the life for her who had learned to walk on a ship’s +deck. She was a ship-child, a sea-girl if ever there was one. And of +course she loved Jasper and trusted him; but there was a shade of anxiety +in her pride. It is very fine and romantic to possess for your very own +a finely tempered and trusty sword-blade, but whether it is the best +weapon to counter with the common cudgel-play of Fate—that’s another +question. + +She knew that she had the more substance of the two—you needn’t try any +cheap jokes, I am not talking of their weights. She was just a little +anxious while he was away, and she had me who, being a tried confidant, +took the liberty to whisper frequently “The sooner the better.” But +there was a peculiar vein of obstinacy in Miss Freya, and her reason for +delay was characteristic. “Not before my twenty-first birthday; so that +there shall be no mistake in people’s minds as to me being old enough to +know what I am doing.” + +Jasper’s feelings were in such subjection that he had never even +remonstrated against the decree. She was just splendid, whatever she did +or said, and there was an end of it for him. I believe that he was +subtle enough to be even flattered at bottom—at times. And then to +console him he had the brig which seemed pervaded by the spirit of Freya, +since whatever he did on board was always done under the supreme sanction +of his love. + +“Yes. I’ll soon begin to count the days,” he repeated. “Eleven months +more. I’ll have to crowd three trips into that.” + +“Mind you don’t come to grief trying to do too much,” I admonished him. +But he dismissed my caution with a laugh and an elated gesture. Pooh! +Nothing, nothing could happen to the brig, he cried, as if the flame of +his heart could light up the dark nights of uncharted seas, and the image +of Freya serve for an unerring beacon amongst hidden shoals; as if the +winds had to wait on his future, the stars fight for it in their courses; +as if the magic of his passion had the power to float a ship on a drop of +dew or sail her through the eye of a needle—simply because it was her +magnificent lot to be the servant of a love so full of grace as to make +all the ways of the earth safe, resplendent, and easy. + +“I suppose,” I said, after he had finished laughing at my innocent enough +remark, “I suppose you will be off to-day.” + +That was what he meant to do. He had not gone at daylight only because +he expected me to come in. + +“And only fancy what has happened yesterday,” he went on. “My mate left +me suddenly. Had to. And as there’s nobody to be found at a short +notice I am going to take Schultz with me. The notorious Schultz! Why +don’t you jump out of your skin? I tell you I went and unearthed Schultz +late last evening, after no end of trouble. ‘I am your man, captain,’ he +says, in that wonderful voice of his, ‘but I am sorry to confess I have +practically no clothes to my back. I have had to sell all my wardrobe to +get a little food from day to day.’ What a voice that man has got. Talk +about moving stones! But people seem to get used to it. I had never +seen him before, and, upon my word, I felt suddenly tears rising to my +eyes. Luckily it was dusk. He was sitting very quiet under a tree in a +native compound as thin as a lath, and when I peered down at him all he +had on was an old cotton singlet and a pair of ragged pyjamas. I bought +him six white suits and two pairs of canvas shoes. Can’t clear the ship +without a mate. Must have somebody. I am going on shore presently to +sign him on, and I shall take him with me as I go back on board to get +under way. Now, I am a lunatic—am I not? Mad, of course. Come on! Lay +it on thick. Let yourself go. I like to see you get excited.” + +He so evidently expected me to scold that I took especial pleasure in +exaggerating the calmness of my attitude. + +“The worst that can be brought up against Schultz,” I began, folding my +arms and speaking dispassionately, “is an awkward habit of stealing the +stores of every ship he has ever been in. He will do it. That’s really +all that’s wrong. I don’t credit absolutely that story Captain Robinson +tells of Schultz conspiring in Chantabun with some ruffians in a Chinese +junk to steal the anchor off the starboard bow of the _Bohemian Girl_ +schooner. Robinson’s story is too ingenious altogether. That other tale +of the engineers of the _Nan-Shan_ finding Schultz at midnight in the +engine-room busy hammering at the brass bearings to carry them off for +sale on shore seems to me more authentic. Apart from this little +weakness, let me tell you that Schultz is a smarter sailor than many who +never took a drop of drink in their lives, and perhaps no worse morally +than some men you and I know who have never stolen the value of a penny. +He may not be a desirable person to have on board one’s ship, but since +you have no choice he may be made to do, I believe. The important thing +is to understand his psychology. Don’t give him any money till you have +done with him. Not a cent, if he begs ever so. For as sure as Fate the +moment you give him any money he will begin to steal. Just remember +that.” + +I enjoyed Jasper’s incredulous surprise. + +“The devil he will!” he cried. “What on earth for? Aren’t you trying to +pull my leg, old boy?” + +“No. I’m not. You must understand Schultz’s psychology. He’s neither a +loafer nor a cadger. He’s not likely to wander about looking for +somebody to stand him drinks. But suppose he goes on shore with five +dollars, or fifty for that matter, in his pocket? After the third or +fourth glass he becomes fuddled and charitable. He either drops his +money all over the place, or else distributes the lot around; gives it to +any one who will take it. Then it occurs to him that the night is young +yet, and that he may require a good many more drinks for himself and his +friends before morning. So he starts off cheerfully for his ship. His +legs never get affected nor his head either in the usual way. He gets +aboard and simply grabs the first thing that seems to him suitable—the +cabin lamp, a coil of rope, a bag of biscuits, a drum of oil—and converts +it into money without thinking twice about it. This is the process and +no other. You have only to look out that he doesn’t get a start. That’s +all.” + +“Confound his psychology,” muttered Jasper. “But a man with a voice like +his is fit to talk to the angels. Is he incurable do you think?” + +I said that I thought so. Nobody had prosecuted him yet, but no one +would employ him any longer. His end would be, I feared, to starve in +some hole or other. + +“Ah, well,” reflected Jasper. “The _Bonito_ isn’t trading to any ports +of civilisation. That’ll make it easier for him to keep straight.” + +That was true. The brig’s business was on uncivilised coasts, with +obscure rajahs dwelling in nearly unknown bays; with native settlements +up mysterious rivers opening their sombre, forest-lined estuaries among a +welter of pale green reefs and dazzling sand-banks, in lonely straits of +calm blue water all aglitter with sunshine. Alone, far from the beaten +tracks, she glided, all white, round dark, frowning headlands, stole out, +silent like a ghost, from behind points of land stretching out all black +in the moonlight; or lay hove-to, like a sleeping sea-bird, under the +shadow of some nameless mountain waiting for a signal. She would be +glimpsed suddenly on misty, squally days dashing disdainfully aside the +short aggressive waves of the Java Sea; or be seen far, far away, a tiny +dazzling white speck flying across the brooding purple masses of +thunderclouds piled up on the horizon. Sometimes, on the rare mail +tracks, where civilisation brushes against wild mystery, when the naïve +passengers crowding along the rail exclaimed, pointing at her with +interest: “Oh, here’s a yacht!” the Dutch captain, with a hostile glance, +would grunt contemptuously: “Yacht! No! That’s only English Jasper. A +pedlar—” + +“A good seaman you say,” ejaculated Jasper, still in the matter of the +hopeless Schultz with the wonderfully touching voice. + +“First rate. Ask any one. Quite worth having—only impossible,” I +declared. + +“He shall have his chance to reform in the brig,” said Jasper, with a +laugh. “There will be no temptations either to drink or steal where I am +going to this time.” + +I didn’t press him for anything more definite on that point. In fact, +intimate as we were, I had a pretty clear notion of the general run of +his business. + +But as we are going ashore in his gig he asked suddenly: “By the way, do +you know where Heemskirk is?” + +I eyed him covertly, and was reassured. He had asked the question, not +as a lover, but as a trader. I told him that I had heard in Palembang +that the _Neptun_ was on duty down about Flores and Sumbawa. Quite out +of his way. He expressed his satisfaction. + +“You know,” he went on, “that fellow, when he gets on the Borneo coast, +amuses himself by knocking down my beacons. I have had to put up a few +to help me in and out of the rivers. Early this year a Celebes trader +becalmed in a prau was watching him at it. He steamed the gunboat full +tilt at two of them, one after another, smashing them to pieces, and then +lowered a boat on purpose to pull out a third, which I had a lot of +trouble six months ago to stick up in the middle of a mudflat for a tide +mark. Did you ever hear of anything more provoking—eh?” + +“I wouldn’t quarrel with the beggar,” I observed casually, yet disliking +that piece of news strongly. “It isn’t worth while.” + +“I quarrel?” cried Jasper. “I don’t want to quarrel. I don’t want to +hurt a single hair of his ugly head. My dear fellow, when I think of +Freya’s twenty-first birthday, all the world’s my friend, Heemskirk +included. It’s a nasty, spiteful amusement, all the same.” + +We parted rather hurriedly on the quay, each of us having his own +pressing business to attend to. I would have been very much cut up had I +known that this hurried grasp of the hand with “So long, old boy. Good +luck to you!” was the last of our partings. + +On his return to the Straits I was away, and he was gone again before I +got back. He was trying to achieve three trips before Freya’s +twenty-first birthday. At Nelson’s Cove I missed him again by only a +couple of days. Freya and I talked of “that lunatic” and “perfect idiot” +with great delight and infinite appreciation. She was very radiant, with +a more pronounced gaiety, notwithstanding that she had just parted from +Jasper. But this was to be their last separation. + +“Do get aboard as soon as you can, Miss Freya,” I entreated. + +She looked me straight in the face, her colour a little heightened and +with a sort of solemn ardour—if there was a little catch in her voice. + +“The very next day.” + +Ah, yes! The very next day after her twenty-first birthday. I was +pleased at this hint of deep feeling. It was as if she had grown +impatient at last of the self-imposed delay. I supposed that Jasper’s +recent visit had told heavily. + +“That’s right,” I said approvingly. “I shall be much easier in my mind +when I know you have taken charge of that lunatic. Don’t you lose a +minute. He, of course, will be on time—unless heavens fall.” + +“Yes. Unless—” she repeated in a thoughtful whisper, raising her eyes to +the evening sky without a speck of cloud anywhere. Silent for a time, we +let our eyes wander over the waters below, looking mysteriously still in +the twilight, as if trustfully composed for a long, long dream in the +warm, tropical night. And the peace all round us seemed without limits +and without end. + +And then we began again to talk Jasper over in our usual strain. We +agreed that he was too reckless in many ways. Luckily, the brig was +equal to the situation. Nothing apparently was too much for her. A +perfect darling of a ship, said Miss Freya. She and her father had spent +an afternoon on board. Jasper had given them some tea. Papa was grumpy. +. . . I had a vision of old Nelson under the brig’s snowy awnings, +nursing his unassuming vexation, and fanning himself with his hat. A +comedy father. . . . As a new instance of Jasper’s lunacy, I was told +that he was distressed at his inability to have solid silver handles +fitted to all the cabin doors. “As if I would have let him!” commented +Miss Freya, with amused indignation. Incidentally, I learned also that +Schultz, the nautical kleptomaniac with the pathetic voice, was still +hanging on to his job, with Miss Freya’s approval. Jasper had confided +to the lady of his heart his purpose of straightening out the fellow’s +psychology. Yes, indeed. All the world was his friend because it +breathed the same air with Freya. + +Somehow or other, I brought Heemskirk’s name into conversation, and, to +my great surprise, startled Miss Freya. Her eyes expressed something +like distress, while she bit her lip as if to contain an explosion of +laughter. Oh! Yes. Heemskirk was at the bungalow at the same time with +Jasper, but he arrived the day after. He left the same day as the brig, +but a few hours later. + +“What a nuisance he must have been to you two,” I said feelingly. + +Her eyes flashed at me a sort of frightened merriment, and suddenly she +exploded into a clear burst of laughter. “Ha, ha, ha!” + +I echoed it heartily, but not with the game charming tone: “Ha, ha, ha! +. . . Isn’t he grotesque? Ha, ha, ha!” And the ludicrousness of old +Nelson’s inanely fierce round eyes in association with his conciliatory +manner to the lieutenant presenting itself to my mind brought on another +fit. + +“He looks,” I spluttered, “he looks—Ha, ha, ha!—amongst you three . . . +like an unhappy black-beetle. Ha, ha, ha!” + +She gave out another ringing peal, ran off into her own room, and slammed +the door behind her, leaving me profoundly astounded. I stopped laughing +at once. + +“What’s the joke?” asked old Nelson’s voice, half way down the steps. + +He came up, sat down, and blew out his cheeks, looking inexpressibly +fatuous. But I didn’t want to laugh any more. And what on earth, I +asked myself, have we been laughing at in this uncontrollable fashion. I +felt suddenly depressed. + +Oh, yes. Freya had started it. The girl’s overwrought, I thought. And +really one couldn’t wonder at it. + +I had no answer to old Nelson’s question, but he was too aggrieved at +Jasper’s visit to think of anything else. He as good as asked me whether +I wouldn’t undertake to hint to Jasper that he was not wanted at the +Seven Isles group. I declared that it was not necessary. From certain +circumstances which had come to my knowledge lately, I had reason to +think that he would not be much troubled by Jasper Allen in the future. + +He emitted an earnest “Thank God!” which nearly set me laughing again, +but he did not brighten up proportionately. It seemed Heemskirk had +taken special pains to make himself disagreeable. The lieutenant had +frightened old Nelson very much by expressing a sinister wonder at the +Government permitting a white man to settle down in that part at all. +“It is against our declared policy,” he had remarked. He had also +charged him with being in reality no better than an Englishman. He had +even tried to pick a quarrel with him for not learning to speak Dutch. + +“I told him I was too old to learn now,” sighed out old Nelson (or +Nielsen) dismally. “He said I ought to have learned Dutch long before. +I had been making my living in Dutch dependencies. It was disgraceful of +me not to speak Dutch, he said. He was as savage with me as if I had +been a Chinaman.” + +It was plain he had been viciously badgered. He did not mention how many +bottles of his best claret he had offered up on the altar of +conciliation. It must have been a generous libation. But old Nelson (or +Nielsen) was really hospitable. He didn’t mind that; and I only +regretted that this virtue should be lavished on the lieutenant-commander +of the _Neptun_. I longed to tell him that in all probability he would +be relieved from Heemskirk’s visitations also. I did not do so only from +the fear (absurd, I admit) of arousing some sort of suspicion in his +mind. As if with this guileless comedy father such a thing were +possible! + +Strangely enough, the last words on the subject of Heemskirk were spoken +by Freya, and in that very sense. The lieutenant was turning up +persistently in old Nelson’s conversation at dinner. At last I muttered +a half audible “Damn the lieutenant.” I could see that the girl was +getting exasperated, too. + +“And he wasn’t well at all—was he, Freya?” old Nelson went on moaning. +“Perhaps it was that which made him so snappish, hey, Freya? He looked +very bad when he left us so suddenly. His liver must be in a bad state, +too.” + +“Oh, he will end by getting over it,” said Freya impatiently. “And do +leave off worrying about him, papa. Very likely you won’t see much of +him for a long time to come.” + +The look she gave me in exchange for my discreet smile had no hidden +mirth in it. Her eyes seemed hollowed, her face gone wan in a couple of +hours. We had been laughing too much. Overwrought! Overwrought by the +approach of the decisive moment. After all, sincere, courageous, and +self-reliant as she was, she must have felt both the passion and the +compunction of her resolve. The very strength of love which had carried +her up to that point must have put her under a great moral strain, in +which there might have been a little simple remorse, too. For she was +honest—and there, across the table, sat poor old Nelson (or Nielsen) +staring at her, round-eyed and so pathetically comic in his fierce aspect +as to touch the most lightsome heart. + +He retired early to his room to soothe himself for a night’s rest by +perusing his account-books. We two remained on the verandah for another +hour or so, but we exchanged only languid phrases on things without +importance, as though we had been emotionally jaded by our long day’s +talk on the only momentous subject. And yet there was something she +might have told a friend. But she didn’t. We parted silently. She +distrusted my masculine lack of common sense, perhaps. . . . O! Freya! + +Going down the precipitous path to the landing-stage, I was confronted in +the shadows of boulders and bushes by a draped feminine figure whose +appearance startled me at first. It glided into my way suddenly from +behind a piece of rock. But in a moment it occurred to me that it could +be no one else but Freya’s maid, a half-caste Malacca Portuguese. One +caught fleeting glimpses of her olive face and dazzling white teeth about +the house. I had observed her at times from a distance, as she sat +within call under the shade of some fruit trees, brushing and plaiting +her long raven locks. It seemed to be the principal occupation of her +leisure hours. We had often exchanged nods and smiles—and a few words, +too. She was a pretty creature. And once I had watched her approvingly +make funny and expressive grimaces behind Heemskirk’s back. I understood +(from Jasper) that she was in the secret, like a comedy camerista. She +was to accompany Freya on her irregular way to matrimony and “ever after” +happiness. Why should she be roaming by night near the cove—unless on +some love affair of her own—I asked myself. But there was nobody +suitable within the Seven Isles group, as far as I knew. It flashed upon +me that it was myself she had been lying in wait for. + +She hesitated, muffled from head to foot, shadowy and bashful. I +advanced another pace, and how I felt is nobody’s business. + +“What is it?” I asked, very low. + +“Nobody knows I am here,” she whispered. + +“And nobody can see us,” I whispered back. + +The murmur of words “I’ve been so frightened” reached me. Just then +forty feet above our head, from the yet lighted verandah, unexpected and +startling, Freya’s voice rang out in a clear, imperious call: + +“Antonia!” + +With a stifled exclamation, the hesitating girl vanished out of the path. +A bush near by rustled; then silence. I waited wondering. The lights on +the verandah went out. I waited a while longer then continued down the +path to my boat, wondering more than ever. + +I remember the occurrences of that visit especially, because this was the +last time I saw the Nelson bungalow. On arriving at the Straits I found +cable messages which made it necessary for me to throw up my employment +at a moment’s notice and go home at once. I had a desperate scramble to +catch the mailboat which was due to leave next day, but I found time to +write two short notes, one to Freya, the other to Jasper. Later on I +wrote at length, this time to Allen alone. I got no answer. I hunted up +then his brother, or, rather, half-brother, a solicitor in the city, a +sallow, calm, little man who looked at me over his spectacles +thoughtfully. + +Jasper was the only child of his father’s second marriage, a transaction +which had failed to commend itself to the first, grown-up family. + +“You haven’t heard for ages,” I repeated, with secret annoyance. “May I +ask what ‘for ages’ means in this connection?” + +“It means that I don’t care whether I ever hear from him or not,” +retorted the little man of law, turning nasty suddenly. + +I could not blame Jasper for not wasting his time in correspondence with +such an outrageous relative. But why didn’t he write to me—a decent sort +of friend, after all; enough of a friend to find for his silence the +excuse of forgetfulness natural to a state of transcendental bliss? I +waited indulgently, but nothing ever came. And the East seemed to drop +out of my life without an echo, like a stone falling into a well of +prodigious depth. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +I SUPPOSE praiseworthy motives are a sufficient justification almost for +anything. What could be more commendable in the abstract than a girl’s +determination that “poor papa” should not be worried, and her anxiety +that the man of her choice should be kept by any means from every +occasion of doing something rash, something which might endanger the +whole scheme of their happiness? + +Nothing could be more tender and more prudent. We must also remember the +girl’s self-reliant temperament, and the general unwillingness of women—I +mean women of sense—to make a fuss over matters of that sort. + +As has been said already, Heemskirk turned up some time after Jasper’s +arrival at Nelson’s Cove. The sight of the brig lying right under the +bungalow was very offensive to him. He did not fly ashore before his +anchor touched the ground as Jasper used to do. On the contrary, he hung +about his quarter-deck mumbling to himself; and when he ordered his boat +to be manned it was in an angry voice. Freya’s existence, which lifted +Jasper out of himself into a blissful elation, was for Heemskirk a cause +of secret torment, of hours of exasperated brooding. + +While passing the brig he hailed her harshly and asked if the master was +on board. Schultz, smart and neat in a spotless white suit, leaned over +the taffrail, finding the question somewhat amusing. He looked +humorously down into Heemskirk’s boat, and answered, in the most amiable +modulations of his beautiful voice: “Captain Allen is up at the house, +sir.” But his expression changed suddenly at the savage growl: “What the +devil are you grinning at?” which acknowledged that information. + +He watched Heemskirk land and, instead of going to the house, stride away +by another path into the grounds. + +The desire-tormented Dutchman found old Nelson (or Nielsen) at his +drying-sheds, very busy superintending the manipulation of his tobacco +crop, which, though small, was of excellent quality, and enjoying himself +thoroughly. But Heemskirk soon put a stop to this simple happiness. He +sat down by the old chap, and by the sort of talk which he knew was best +calculated for the purpose, reduced him before long to a state of +concealed and perspiring nervousness. It was a horrid talk of +“authorities,” and old Nelson tried to defend himself. If he dealt with +English traders it was because he had to dispose of his produce somehow. +He was as conciliatory as he knew how to be, and this very thing seemed +to excite Heemskirk, who had worked himself up into a heavily breathing +state of passion. + +“And the worst of them all is that Allen,” he growled. “Your particular +friend—eh? You have let in a lot of these Englishmen into this part. +You ought never to have been allowed to settle here. Never. What’s he +doing here now?” + +Old Nelson (or Nielsen), becoming very agitated, declared that Jasper +Allen was no particular friend of his. No friend at all—at all. He had +bought three tons of rice from him to feed his workpeople on. What sort +of evidence of friendship was that? Heemskirk burst out at last with the +thought that had been gnawing at his vitals: + +“Yes. Sell three tons of rice and flirt three days with that girl of +yours. I am speaking to you as a friend, Nielsen. This won’t do. You +are only on sufferance here.” + +Old Nelson was taken aback at first, but recovered pretty quickly. Won’t +do! Certainly! Of course, it wouldn’t do! The last man in the world. +But his girl didn’t care for the fellow, and was too sensible to fall in +love with any one. He was very earnest in impressing on Heemskirk his +own feeling of absolute security. And the lieutenant, casting doubting +glances sideways, was yet willing to believe him. + +“Much you know about it,” he grunted nevertheless. + +“But I do know,” insisted old Nelson, with the greater desperation +because he wanted to resist the doubts arising in his own mind. “My own +daughter! In my own house, and I not to know! Come! It would be a good +joke, lieutenant.” + +“They seem to be carrying on considerably,” remarked Heemskirk moodily. +“I suppose they are together now,” he added, feeling a pang which changed +what he meant for a mocking smile into a strange grimace. + +The harassed Nelson shook his hand at him. He was at bottom shocked at +this insistence, and was even beginning to feel annoyed at the absurdity +of it. + +“Pooh! Pooh! I’ll tell you what, lieutenant: you go to the house and +have a drop of gin-and-bitters before dinner. Ask for Freya. I must see +the last of this tobacco put away for the night, but I’ll be along +presently.” + +Heemskirk was not insensible to this suggestion. It answered to his +secret longing, which was not a longing for drink, however. Old Nelson +shouted solicitously after his broad back a recommendation to make +himself comfortable, and that there was a box of cheroots on the +verandah. + +It was the west verandah that old Nelson meant, the one which was the +living-room of the house, and had split-rattan screens of the very finest +quality. The east verandah, sacred to his own privacy, puffing out of +cheeks, and other signs of perplexed thinking, was fitted with stout +blinds of sailcloth. The north verandah was not a verandah at all, +really. It was more like a long balcony. It did not communicate with +the other two, and could only be approached by a passage inside the +house. Thus it had a privacy which made it a convenient place for a +maiden’s meditations without words, and also for the discourses, +apparently without sense, which, passing between a young man and a maid, +become pregnant with a diversity of transcendental meanings. + +This north verandah was embowered with climbing plants. Freya, whose +room opened out on it, had furnished it as a sort of boudoir for herself, +with a few cane chairs and a sofa of the same kind. On this sofa she and +Jasper sat as close together as is possible in this imperfect world where +neither can a body be in two places at once nor yet two bodies can be in +one place at the same time. They had been sitting together all the +afternoon, and I won’t say that their talk had been without sense. +Loving him with a little judicious anxiety lest in his elation he should +break his heart over some mishap, Freya naturally would talk to him +soberly. He, nervous and brusque when away from her, appeared always as +if overcome by her visibility, by the great wonder of being palpably +loved. An old man’s child, having lost his mother early, thrown out to +sea out of the way while very young, he had not much experience of +tenderness of any kind. + +In this private, foliage-embowered verandah, and at this late hour of the +afternoon, he bent down a little, and, possessing himself of Freya’s +hands, was kissing them one after another, while she smiled and looked +down at his head with the eyes of approving compassion. At that same +moment Heemskirk was approaching the house from the north. + +Antonia was on the watch on that side. But she did not keep a very good +watch. The sun was setting; she knew that her young mistress and the +captain of the _Bonito_ were about to separate. She was walking to and +fro in the dusky grove with a flower in her hair, and singing softly to +herself, when suddenly, within a foot of her, the lieutenant appeared +from behind a tree. She bounded aside like a startled fawn, but +Heemskirk, with a lucid comprehension of what she was there for, pounced +upon her, and, catching her arm, clapped his other thick hand over her +mouth. + +“If you try to make a noise I’ll twist your neck!” + +This ferocious figure of speech terrified the girl sufficiently. +Heemskirk had seen plainly enough on the verandah Freya’s golden head +with another head very close to it. He dragged the unresisting maid with +him by a circuitous way into the compound, where he dismissed her with a +vicious push in the direction of the cluster of bamboo huts for the +servants. + +She was very much like the faithful camerista of Italian comedy, but in +her terror she bolted away without a sound from that thick, short, +black-eyed man with a cruel grip of fingers like a vice. Quaking all +over at a distance, extremely scared and half inclined to laugh, she saw +him enter the house at the back. + +The interior of the bungalow was divided by two passages crossing each +other in the middle. At that point Heemskirk, by turning his head +slightly to the left as he passed, secured the evidence of “carrying on” +so irreconcilable with old Nelson’s assurances that it made him stagger, +with a rush of blood to his head. Two white figures, distinct against +the light, stood in an unmistakable attitude. Freya’s arms were round +Jasper’s neck. Their faces were characteristically superimposed on each +other, and Heemskirk went on, his throat choked with a sudden rising of +curses, till on the west verandah he stumbled blindly against a chair and +then dropped into another as though his legs had been swept from under +him. He had indulged too long in the habit of appropriating Freya to +himself in his thoughts. “Is that how you entertain your visitors—you . . . ” +he thought, so outraged that he could not find a sufficiently +degrading epithet. + +Freya struggled a little and threw her head back. + +“Somebody has come in,” she whispered. Jasper, holding her clasped +closely to his breast, and looking down into her face, suggested +casually: + +“Your father.” + +Freya tried to disengage herself, but she had not the heart absolutely to +push him away with her hands. + +“I believe it’s Heemskirk,” she breathed out at him. + +He, plunging into her eyes in a quiet rapture, was provoked to a vague +smile by the sound of the name. + +“The ass is always knocking down my beacons outside the river,” he +murmured. He attached no other meaning to Heemskirk’s existence; but +Freya was asking herself whether the lieutenant had seen them. + +“Let me go, kid,” she ordered in a peremptory whisper. Jasper obeyed, +and, stepping back at once, continued his contemplation of her face under +another angle. “I must go and see,” she said to herself anxiously. + +She instructed him hurriedly to wait a moment after she was gone and then +to slip on to the back verandah and get a quiet smoke before he showed +himself. + +“Don’t stay late this evening,” was her last recommendation before she +left him. + +Then Freya came out on the west verandah with her light, rapid step. +While going through the doorway she managed to shake down the folds of +the looped-up curtains at the end of the passage so as to cover Jasper’s +retreat from the bower. Directly she appeared Heemskirk jumped up as if +to fly at her. She paused and he made her an exaggerated low bow. + +It irritated Freya. + +“Oh! It’s you, Mr. Heemskirk. How do you do?” She spoke in her usual +tone. Her face was not plainly visible to him in the dusk of the deep +verandah. He dared not trust himself to speak, his rage at what he had +seen was so great. And when she added with serenity: “Papa will be +coming in before long,” he called her horrid names silently, to himself, +before he spoke with contorted lips. + +“I have seen your father already. We had a talk in the sheds. He told +me some very interesting things. Oh, very—” + +Freya sat down. She thought: “He has seen us, for certain.” She was not +ashamed. What she was afraid of was some foolish or awkward +complication. But she could not conceive how much her person had been +appropriated by Heemskirk (in his thoughts). She tried to be +conversational. + +“You are coming now from Palembang, I suppose?” + +“Eh? What? Oh, yes! I come from Palembang. Ha, ha, ha! You know what +your father said? He said he was afraid you were having a very dull time +of it here.” + +“And I suppose you are going to cruise in the Moluccas,” continued Freya, +who wanted to impart some useful information to Jasper if possible. At +the same time she was always glad to know that those two men were a few +hundred miles apart when not under her eye. + +Heemskirk growled angrily. + +“Yes. Moluccas,” glaring in the direction of her shadowy figure. “Your +father thinks it’s very quiet for you here. I tell you what, Miss Freya. +There isn’t such a quiet spot on earth that a woman can’t find an +opportunity of making a fool of somebody.” + +Freya thought: “I mustn’t let him provoke me.” Presently the Tamil boy, +who was Nelson’s head servant, came in with the lights. She addressed +him at once with voluble directions where to put the lamps, told him to +bring the tray with the gin and bitters, and to send Antonia into the +house. + +“I will have to leave you to yourself, Mr. Heemskirk, for a while,” she +said. + +And she went to her room to put on another frock. She made a quick +change of it because she wished to be on the verandah before her father +and the lieutenant met again. She relied on herself to regulate that +evening’s intercourse between these two. But Antonia, still scared and +hysterical, exhibited a bruise on her arm which roused Freya’s +indignation. + +“He jumped on me out of the bush like a tiger,” said the girl, laughing +nervously with frightened eyes. + +“The brute!” thought Freya. “He meant to spy on us, then.” She was +enraged, but the recollection of the thick Dutchman in white trousers +wide at the hips and narrow at the ankles, with his shoulder-straps and +black bullet head, glaring at her in the light of the lamps, was so +repulsively comical that she could not help a smiling grimace. Then she +became anxious. The absurdities of three men were forcing this anxiety +upon her: Jasper’s impetuosity, her father’s fears, Heemskirk’s +infatuation. She was very tender to the first two, and she made up her +mind to display all her feminine diplomacy. All this, she said to +herself, will be over and done with before very long now. + +Heemskirk on the verandah, lolling in a chair, his legs extended and his +white cap reposing on his stomach, was lashing himself into a fury of an +atrocious character altogether incomprehensible to a girl like Freya. +His chin was resting on his chest, his eyes gazed stonily at his shoes. +Freya examined him from behind the curtain. He didn’t stir. He was +ridiculous. But this absolute stillness was impressive. She stole back +along the passage to the east verandah, where Jasper was sitting quietly +in the dark, doing what he was told, like a good boy. + +“Psst,” she hissed. He was by her side in a moment. + +“Yes. What is it?” he murmured. + +“It’s that beetle,” she whispered uneasily. Under the impression of +Heemskirk’s sinister immobility she had half a mind to let Jasper know +that they had been seen. But she was by no means certain that Heemskirk +would tell her father—and at any rate not that evening. She concluded +rapidly that the safest thing would be to get Jasper out of the way as +soon as possible. + +“What has he been doing?” asked Jasper in a calm undertone. + +“Oh, nothing! Nothing. He sits there looking cross. But you know how +he’s always worrying papa.” + +“Your father’s quite unreasonable,” pronounced Jasper judicially. + +“I don’t know,” she said in a doubtful tone. Something of old Nelson’s +dread of the authorities had rubbed off on the girl since she had to live +with it day after day. “I don’t know. Papa’s afraid of being reduced to +beggary, as he says, in his old days. Look here, kid, you had better +clear out to-morrow, first thing.” + +Jasper had hoped for another afternoon with Freya, an afternoon of quiet +felicity with the girl by his side and his eyes on his brig, anticipating +a blissful future. His silence was eloquent with disappointment, and +Freya understood it very well. She, too, was disappointed. But it was +her business to be sensible. + +“We shan’t have a moment to ourselves with that beetle creeping round the +house,” she argued in a low, hurried voice. “So what’s the good of your +staying? And he won’t go while the brig’s here. You know he won’t.” + +“He ought to be reported for loitering,” murmured Jasper with a vexed +little laugh. + +“Mind you get under way at daylight,” recommended Freya under her breath. + +He detained her after the manner of lovers. She expostulated without +struggling because it was hard for her to repulse him. He whispered into +her ear while he put his arms round her. + +“Next time we two meet, next time I hold you like this, it shall be on +board. You and I, in the brig—all the world, all the life—” And then he +flashed out: “I wonder I can wait! I feel as if I must carry you off +now, at once. I could run with you in my hands—down the path—without +stumbling—without touching the earth—” + +She was still. She listened to the passion in his voice. She was saying +to herself that if she were to whisper the faintest yes, if she were but +to sigh lightly her consent, he would do it. He was capable of doing +it—without touching the earth. She closed her eyes and smiled in the +dark, abandoning herself in a delightful giddiness, for an instant, to +his encircling arm. But before he could be tempted to tighten his grasp +she was out of it, a foot away from him and in full possession of +herself. + +That was the steady Freya. She was touched by the deep sigh which +floated up to her from the white figure of Jasper, who did not stir. + +“You are a mad kid,” she said tremulously. Then with a change of tone: +“No one could carry me off. Not even you. I am not the sort of girl +that gets carried off.” His white form seemed to shrink a little before +the force of that assertion and she relented. “Isn’t it enough for you +to know that you have—that you have carried me away?” she added in a +tender tone. + +He murmured an endearing word, and she continued: + +“I’ve promised you—I’ve said I would come—and I shall come of my own free +will. You shall wait for me on board. I shall get up the side—by +myself, and walk up to you on the deck and say: ‘Here I am, kid.’ And +then—and then I shall be carried off. But it will be no man who will +carry me off—it will be the brig, your brig—our brig. . . . I love the +beauty!” + +She heard an inarticulate sound, something like a moan wrung out by pain +or delight, and glided away. There was that other man on the other +verandah, that dark, surly Dutchman who could make trouble between Jasper +and her father, bring about a quarrel, ugly words, and perhaps a physical +collision. What a horrible situation! But, even putting aside that +awful extremity, she shrank from having to live for some three months +with a wretched, tormented, angry, distracted, absurd man. And when the +day came, the day and the hour, what should she do if her father tried to +detain her by main force—as was, after all, possible? Could she actually +struggle with him hand to hand? But it was of lamentations and +entreaties that she was really afraid. Could she withstand them? What +an odious, cruel, ridiculous position would that be! + +“But it won’t be. He’ll say nothing,” she thought as she came out +quickly on the west verandah, and, seeing that Heemskirk did not move, +sat down on a chair near the doorway and kept her eyes on him. The +outraged lieutenant had not changed his attitude; only his cap had fallen +off his stomach and was lying on the floor. His thick black eyebrows +were knitted by a frown, while he looked at her out of the corners of his +eyes. And their sideways glance in conjunction with the hooked nose, the +whole bulky, ungainly, sprawling person, struck Freya as so comically +moody that, inwardly discomposed as she was, she could not help smiling. +She did her best to give that smile a conciliatory character. She did +not want to provoke Heemskirk needlessly. + +And the lieutenant, perceiving that smile, was mollified. It never +entered his head that his outward appearance, a naval officer, in +uniform, could appear ridiculous to that girl of no position—the daughter +of old Nielsen. The recollection of her arms round Jasper’s neck still +irritated and excited him. “The hussy!” he thought. “Smiling—eh? +That’s how you are amusing yourself. Fooling your father finely, aren’t +you? You have a taste for that sort of fun—have you? Well, we shall +see—” He did not alter his position, but on his pursed-up lips there +also appeared a smile of surly and ill-omened amusement, while his eyes +returned to the contemplation of his boots. + +Freya felt hot with indignation. She sat radiantly fair in the +lamplight, her strong, well-shaped hands lying one on top of the other in +her lap. . . “Odious creature,” she thought. Her face coloured with +sudden anger. “You have scared my maid out of her senses,” she said +aloud. “What possessed you?” + +He was thinking so deeply of her that the sound of her voice, pronouncing +these unexpected words, startled him extremely. He jerked up his head +and looked so bewildered that Freya insisted impatiently: + +“I mean Antonia. You have bruised her arm. What did you do it for?” + +“Do you want to quarrel with me?” he asked thickly, with a sort of +amazement. He blinked like an owl. He was funny. Freya, like all +women, had a keen sense of the ridiculous in outward appearance. + +“Well, no; I don’t think I do.” She could not help herself. She laughed +outright, a clear, nervous laugh in which Heemskirk joined suddenly with +a harsh “Ha, ha, ha!” + +Voices and footsteps were heard in the passage, and Jasper, with old +Nelson, came out. Old Nelson looked at his daughter approvingly, for he +liked the lieutenant to be kept in good humour. And he also joined +sympathetically in the laugh. “Now, lieutenant, we shall have some +dinner,” he said, rubbing his hands cheerily. Jasper had gone straight +to the balustrade. The sky was full of stars, and in the blue velvety +night the cove below had a denser blackness, in which the riding-lights +of the brig and of the gunboat glimmered redly, like suspended sparks. +“Next time this riding-light glimmers down there, I’ll be waiting for her +on the quarter-deck to come and say ‘Here I am,’” Jasper thought; and his +heart seemed to grow bigger in his chest, dilated by an oppressive +happiness that nearly wrung out a cry from him. There was no wind. Not +a leaf below him stirred, and even the sea was but a still uncomplaining +shadow. Far away on the unclouded sky the pale lightning, the +heat-lightning of the tropics, played tremulously amongst the low stars +in short, faint, mysteriously consecutive flashes, like incomprehensible +signals from some distant planet. + +The dinner passed off quietly. Freya sat facing her father, calm but +pale. Heemskirk affected to talk only to old Nelson. Jasper’s behaviour +was exemplary. He kept his eyes under control, basking in the sense of +Freya’s nearness, as people bask in the sun without looking up to heaven. +And very soon after dinner was over, mindful of his instructions, he +declared that it was time for him to go on board his ship. + +Heemskirk did not look up. Ensconced in the rocking-chair, and puffing +at a cheroot, he had the air of meditating surlily over some odious +outbreak. So at least it seemed to Freya. Old Nelson said at once: +“I’ll stroll down with you.” He had begun a professional conversation +about the dangers of the New Guinea coast, and wanted to relate to Jasper +some experience of his own “over there.” Jasper was such a good +listener! Freya made as if to accompany them, but her father frowned, +shook his head, and nodded significantly towards the immovable Heemskirk +blotting out smoke with half-closed eyes and protruded lips. The +lieutenant must not be left alone. Take offence, perhaps. + +Freya obeyed these signs. “Perhaps it is better for me to stay,” she +thought. Women are not generally prone to review their own conduct, +still less to condemn it. The embarrassing masculine absurdities are in +the main responsible for its ethics. But, looking at Heemskirk, Freya +felt regret and even remorse. His thick bulk in repose suggested the +idea of repletion, but as a matter of fact he had eaten very little. He +had drunk a great deal, however. The fleshy lobes of his unpleasant big +ears with deeply folded rims were crimson. They quite flamed in the +neighbourhood of the flat, sallow cheeks. For a considerable time he did +not raise his heavy brown eyelids. To be at the mercy of such a creature +was humiliating; and Freya, who always ended by being frank with herself, +thought regretfully: “If only I had been open with papa from the first! +But then what an impossible life he would have led me!” Yes. Men were +absurd in many ways; lovably like Jasper, impracticably like her father, +odiously like that grotesquely supine creature in the chair. Was it +possible to talk him over? Perhaps it was not necessary? “Oh! I can’t +talk to him,” she thought. And when Heemskirk, still without looking at +her, began resolutely to crush his half-smoked cheroot on the +coffee-tray, she took alarm, glided towards the piano, opened it in +tremendous haste, and struck the keys before she sat down. + +In an instant the verandah, the whole carpetless wooden bungalow raised +on piles, became filled with an uproarious, confused resonance. But +through it all she heard, she felt on the floor the heavy, prowling +footsteps of the lieutenant moving to and fro at her back. He was not +exactly drunk, but he was sufficiently primed to make the suggestions of +his excited imagination seem perfectly feasible and even clever; +beautifully, unscrupulously clever. Freya, aware that he had stopped +just behind her, went on playing without turning her head. She played +with spirit, brilliantly, a fierce piece of music, but when his voice +reached her she went cold all over. It was the voice, not the words. +The insolent familiarity of tone dismayed her to such an extent that she +could not understand at first what he was saying. His utterance was +thick, too. + +“I suspected. . . . Of course I suspected something of your little goings +on. I am not a child. But from suspecting to seeing—seeing, you +understand—there’s an enormous difference. That sort of thing. . . . +Come! One isn’t made of stone. And when a man has been worried by a +girl as I have been worried by you, Miss Freya—sleeping and waking, then, +of course. . . . But I am a man of the world. It must be dull for you +here . . . I say, won’t you leave off this confounded playing . . .?” + +This last was the only sentence really which she made out. She shook her +head negatively, and in desperation put on the loud pedal, but she could +not make the sound of the piano cover his raised voice. + +“Only, I am surprised that you should. . . . An English trading skipper, +a common fellow. Low, cheeky lot, infesting these islands. I would make +short work of such trash! While you have here a good friend, a gentleman +ready to worship at your feet—your pretty feet—an officer, a man of +family. Strange, isn’t it? But what of that! You are fit for a +prince.” + +Freya did not turn her head. Her face went stiff with horror and +indignation. This adventure was altogether beyond her conception of what +was possible. It was not in her character to jump up and run away. It +seemed to her, too, that if she did move there was no saying what might +happen. Presently her father would be back, and then the other would +have to leave off. It was best to ignore—to ignore. She went on playing +loudly and correctly, as though she were alone, as if Heemskirk did not +exist. That proceeding irritated him. + +“Come! You may deceive your father,” he bawled angrily, “but I am not to +be made a fool of! Stop this infernal noise . . . Freya . . . Hey! You +Scandinavian Goddess of Love! Stop! Do you hear? That’s what you +are—of love. But the heathen gods are only devils in disguise, and +that’s what you are, too—a deep little devil. Stop it, I say, or I will +lift you off that stool!” + +Standing behind her, he devoured her with his eyes, from the golden crown +of her rigidly motionless head to the heels of her shoes, the line of her +shapely shoulders, the curves of her fine figure swaying a little before +the keyboard. She had on a light dress; the sleeves stopped short at the +elbows in an edging of lace. A satin ribbon encircled her waist. In an +access of irresistible, reckless hopefulness he clapped both his hands on +that waist—and then the irritating music stopped at last. But, quick as +she was in springing away from the contact (the round music-stool going +over with a crash), Heemskirk’s lips, aiming at her neck, landed a +hungry, smacking kiss just under her ear. A deep silence reigned for a +time. And then he laughed rather feebly. + +He was disconcerted somewhat by her white, still face, the big light +violet eyes resting on him stonily. She had not uttered a sound. She +faced him, steadying herself on the corner of the piano with one extended +hand. The other went on rubbing with mechanical persistency the place +his lips had touched. + +“What’s the trouble?” he said, offended. “Startled you? Look here: +don’t let us have any of that nonsense. You don’t mean to say a kiss +frightens you so much as all that. . . . I know better. . . . I don’t +mean to be left out in the cold.” + +He had been gazing into her face with such strained intentness that he +could no longer see it distinctly. Everything round him was rather +misty. He forgot the overturned stool, caught his foot against it, and +lurched forward slightly, saying in an ingratiating tone: + +“I’m not bad fun, really. You try a few kisses to begin with—” + +He said no more, because his head received a terrific concussion, +accompanied by an explosive sound. Freya had swung her round, strong arm +with such force that the impact of her open palm on his flat cheek turned +him half round. Uttering a faint, hoarse yell, the lieutenant clapped +both his hands to the left side of his face, which had taken on suddenly +a dusky brick-red tinge. Freya, very erect, her violet eyes darkened, +her palm still tingling from the blow, a sort of restrained determined +smile showing a tiny gleam of her white teeth, heard her father’s rapid, +heavy tread on the path below the verandah. Her expression lost its +pugnacity and became sincerely concerned. She was sorry for her father. +She stooped quickly to pick up the music-stool, as if anxious to +obliterate the traces. . . . But that was no good. She had resumed her +attitude, one hand resting lightly on the piano, before old Nelson got up +to the top of the stairs. + +Poor father! How furious he will be—how upset! And afterwards, what +tremors, what unhappiness! Why had she not been open with him from the +first? His round, innocent stare of amazement cut her to the quick. But +he was not looking at her. His stare was directed to Heemskirk, who, +with his back to him and with his hands still up to his face, was hissing +curses through his teeth, and (she saw him in profile) glaring at her +balefully with one black, evil eye. + +“What’s the matter?” asked old Nelson, very much bewildered. + +She did not answer him. She thought of Jasper on the deck of the brig, +gazing up at the lighted bungalow, and she felt frightened. It was a +mercy that one of them at least was on board out of the way. She only +wished he were a hundred miles off. And yet she was not certain that she +did. Had Jasper been mysteriously moved that moment to reappear on the +verandah she would have thrown her consistency, her firmness, her +self-possession, to the winds, and flown into his arms. + +“What is it? What is it?” insisted the unsuspecting Nelson, getting +quite excited. “Only this minute you were playing a tune, and—” + +Freya, unable to speak in her apprehension of what was coming (she was +also fascinated by that black, evil, glaring eye), only nodded slightly +at the lieutenant, as much as to say: “Just look at him!” + +“Why, yes!” exclaimed old Nelson. “I see. What on earth—” + +Meantime he had cautiously approached Heemskirk, who, bursting into +incoherent imprecations, was stamping with both feet where he stood. The +indignity of the blow, the rage of baffled purpose, the ridicule of the +exposure, and the impossibility of revenge maddened him to a point when +he simply felt he must howl with fury. + +“Oh, oh, oh!” he howled, stamping across the verandah as though he meant +to drive his foot through the floor at every step. + +“Why, is his face hurt?” asked the astounded old Nelson. The truth +dawned suddenly upon his innocent mind. “Dear me!” he cried, +enlightened. “Get some brandy, quick, Freya. . . . You are subject to +it, lieutenant? Fiendish, eh? I know, I know! Used to go crazy all of +a sudden myself in the time. . . . And the little bottle of laudanum from +the medicine-chest, too, Freya. Look sharp. . . . Don’t you see he’s got +a toothache?” + +And, indeed, what other explanation could have presented itself to the +guileless old Nelson, beholding this cheek nursed with both hands, these +wild glances, these stampings, this distracted swaying of the body? It +would have demanded a preternatural acuteness to hit upon the true cause. +Freya had not moved. She watched Heemskirk’s savagely inquiring, black +stare directed stealthily upon herself. “Aha, you would like to be let +off!” she said to herself. She looked at him unflinchingly, thinking it +out. The temptation of making an end of it all without further trouble +was irresistible. She gave an almost imperceptible nod of assent, and +glided away. + +“Hurry up that brandy!” old Nelson shouted, as she disappeared in the +passage. + +Heemskirk relieved his deeper feelings by a sudden string of curses in +Dutch and English which he sent after her. He raved to his heart’s +content, flinging to and fro the verandah and kicking chairs out of his +way; while Nelson (or Nielsen), whose sympathy was profoundly stirred by +these evidences of agonising pain, hovered round his dear (and dreaded) +lieutenant, fussing like an old hen. + +“Dear me, dear me! Is it so bad? I know well what it is. I used to +frighten my poor wife sometimes. Do you get it often like this, +lieutenant?” + +Heemskirk shouldered him viciously out of his way, with a short, insane +laugh. But his staggering host took it in good part; a man beside +himself with excruciating toothache is not responsible. + +“Go into my room, lieutenant,” he suggested urgently. “Throw yourself on +my bed. We will get something to ease you in a minute.” + +He seized the poor sufferer by the arm and forced him gently onwards to +the very bed, on which Heemskirk, in a renewed access of rage, flung +himself down with such force that he rebounded from the mattress to the +height of quite a foot. + +“Dear me!” exclaimed the scared Nelson, and incontinently ran off to +hurry up the brandy and the laudanum, very angry that so little alacrity +was shown in relieving the tortures of his precious guest. In the end he +got these things himself. + +Half an hour later he stood in the inner passage of the house, surprised +by faint, spasmodic sounds of a mysterious nature, between laughter and +sobs. He frowned; then went straight towards his daughter’s room and +knocked at the door. + +Freya, her glorious fair hair framing her white face and rippling down a +dark-blue dressing-gown, opened it partly. + +The light in the room was dim. Antonia, crouching in a corner, rocked +herself backwards and forwards, uttering feeble moans. Old Nelson had +not much experience in various kinds of feminine laughter, but he was +certain there had been laughter there. + +“Very unfeeling, very unfeeling!” he said, with weighty displeasure. +“What is there so amusing in a man being in pain? I should have thought +a woman—a young girl—” + +“He was so funny,” murmured Freya, whose eyes glistened strangely in the +semi-obscurity of the passage. “And then, you know, I don’t like him,” +she added, in an unsteady voice. + +“Funny!” repeated old Nelson, amazed at this evidence of callousness in +one so young. “You don’t like him! Do you mean to say that, because you +don’t like him, you—Why, it’s simply cruel! Don’t you know it’s about +the worst sort of pain there is? Dogs have been known to go mad with +it.” + +“He certainly seemed to have gone mad,” Freya said with an effort, as if +she were struggling with some hidden feeling. + +But her father was launched. + +“And you know how he is. He notices everything. He is a fellow to take +offence for the least little thing—regular Dutchman—and I want to keep +friendly with him. It’s like this, my girl: if that rajah of ours were +to do something silly—and you know he is a sulky, rebellious beggar—and +the authorities took into their heads that my influence over him wasn’t +good, you would find yourself without a roof over your head—” + +She cried: “What nonsense, father!” in a not very assured tone, and +discovered that he was angry, angry enough to achieve irony; yes, old +Nelson (or Nielsen), irony! Just a gleam of it. + +“Oh, of course, if you have means of your own—a mansion, a plantation +that I know nothing of—” But he was not capable of sustained irony. “I +tell you they would bundle me out of here,” he whispered forcibly; +“without compensation, of course. I know these Dutch. And the +lieutenant’s just the fellow to start the trouble going. He has the ear +of influential officials. I wouldn’t offend him for anything—for +anything—on no consideration whatever. . . . What did you say?” + +It was only an inarticulate exclamation. If she ever had a half-formed +intention of telling him everything she had given it up now. It was +impossible, both out of regard for his dignity and for the peace of his +poor mind. + +“I don’t care for him myself very much,” old Nelson’s subdued undertone +confessed in a sigh. “He’s easier now,” he went on, after a silence. +“I’ve given him up my bed for the night. I shall sleep on my verandah, +in the hammock. No; I can’t say I like him either, but from that to +laugh at a man because he’s driven crazy with pain is a long way. You’ve +surprised me, Freya. That side of his face is quite flushed.” + +Her shoulders shook convulsively under his hands, which he laid on her +paternally. His straggly, wiry moustache brushed her forehead in a +good-night kiss. She closed the door, and went away from it to the +middle of the room before she allowed herself a tired-out sort of laugh, +without buoyancy. + +“Flushed! A little flushed!” she repeated to herself. “I hope so, +indeed! A little—” + +Her eyelashes were wet. Antonia, in her corner, moaned and giggled, and +it was impossible to tell where the moans ended and the giggles began. + +The mistress and the maid had been somewhat hysterical, for Freya, on +fleeing into her room, had found Antonia there, and had told her +everything. + +“I have avenged you, my girl,” she exclaimed. + +And then they had laughingly cried and cryingly laughed with +admonitions—“Ssh, not so loud! Be quiet!” on one part, and interludes of +“I am so frightened. . . . He’s an evil man,” on the other. + +Antonia was very much afraid of Heemskirk. She was afraid of him because +of his personal appearance: because of his eyes and his eyebrows, and his +mouth and his nose and his limbs. Nothing could be more rational. And +she thought him an evil man, because, to her eyes, he looked evil. No +ground for an opinion could be sounder. In the dimness of the room, with +only a nightlight burning at the head of Freya’s bed, the camerista crept +out of her corner to crouch at the feet of her mistress, supplicating in +whispers: + +“There’s the brig. Captain Allen. Let us run away at once—oh, let us +run away! I am so frightened. Let us! Let us!” + +“I! Run away!” thought Freya to herself, without looking down at the +scared girl. “Never.” + +Both the resolute mistress under the mosquito-net and the frightened maid +lying curled up on a mat at the foot of the bed did not sleep very well +that night. The person that did not sleep at all was Lieutenant +Heemskirk. He lay on his back staring vindictively in the darkness. +Inflaming images and humiliating reflections succeeded each other in his +mind, keeping up, augmenting his anger. A pretty tale this to get about! +But it must not be allowed to get about. The outrage had to be swallowed +in silence. A pretty affair! Fooled, led on, and struck by the girl—and +probably fooled by the father, too. But no. Nielsen was but another +victim of that shameless hussy, that brazen minx, that sly, laughing, +kissing, lying . . . + +“No; he did not deceive me on purpose,” thought the tormented lieutenant. +“But I should like to pay him off, all the same, for being such an +imbecile—” + +Well, some day, perhaps. One thing he was firmly resolved on: he had +made up his mind to steal early out of the house. He did not think he +could face the girl without going out of his mind with fury. + +“Fire and perdition! Ten thousand devils! I shall choke here before the +morning!” he muttered to himself, lying rigid on his back on old Nelson’s +bed, his breast heaving for air. + +He arose at daylight and started cautiously to open the door. Faint +sounds in the passage alarmed him, and remaining concealed he saw Freya +coming out. This unexpected sight deprived him of all power to move away +from the crack of the door. It was the narrowest crack possible, but +commanding the view of the end of the verandah. Freya made for that end +hastily to watch the brig passing the point. She wore her dark +dressing-gown; her feet were bare, because, having fallen asleep towards +the morning, she ran out headlong in her fear of being too late. +Heemskirk had never seen her looking like this, with her hair drawn back +smoothly to the shape of her head, and hanging in one heavy, fair tress +down her back, and with that air of extreme youth, intensity, and +eagerness. And at first he was amazed, and then he gnashed his teeth. +He could not face her at all. He muttered a curse, and kept still behind +the door. + +With a low, deep-breathed “Ah!” when she first saw the brig already under +way, she reached for Nelson’s long glass reposing on brackets high up the +wall. The wide sleeve of the dressing-gown slipped back, uncovering her +white arm as far as the shoulder. Heemskirk gripping the door-handle, as +if to crush it, felt like a man just risen to his feet from a drinking +bout. + +And Freya knew that he was watching her. She knew. She had seen the +door move as she came out of the passage. She was aware of his eyes +being on her, with scornful bitterness, with triumphant contempt. + +“You are there,” she thought, levelling the long glass. “Oh, well, look +on, then!” + +The green islets appeared like black shadows, the ashen sea was smooth as +glass, the clear robe of the colourless dawn, in which even the brig +appeared shadowy, had a hem of light in the east. Directly Freya had +made out Jasper on deck, with his own long glass directed to the +bungalow, she laid hers down and raised both her beautiful white arms +above her head. In that attitude of supreme cry she stood still, glowing +with the consciousness of Jasper’s adoration going out to her figure held +in the field of his glass away there, and warmed, too, by the feeling of +evil passion, the burning, covetous eyes of the other, fastened on her +back. In the fervour of her love, in the caprice of her mind, and with +that mysterious knowledge of masculine nature women seem to be born to, +she thought: + +“You are looking on—you will—you must! Then you shall see something.” + +She brought both her hands to her lips, then flung them out, sending a +kiss over the sea, as if she wanted to throw her heart along with it on +the deck of the brig. Her face was rosy, her eyes shone. Her repeated, +passionate gesture seemed to fling kisses by the hundred again and again +and again, while the slowly ascending sun brought the glory of colour to +the world, turning the islets green, the sea blue, the brig below her +white—dazzlingly white in the spread of her wings—with the red ensign +streaming like a tiny flame from the peak. + +And each time she murmured with a rising inflexion: + +“Take this—and this—and this—” till suddenly her arms fell. She had seen +the ensign dipped in response, and next moment the point below hid the +hull of the brig from her view. Then she turned away from the +balustrade, and, passing slowly before the door of her father’s room with +her eyelids lowered, and an enigmatic expression on her face, she +disappeared behind the curtain. + +But instead of going along the passage, she remained concealed and very +still on the other side to watch what would happen. For some time the +broad, furnished verandah remained empty. Then the door of old Nelson’s +room came open suddenly, and Heemskirk staggered out. His hair was +rumpled, his eyes bloodshot, his unshaven face looked very dark. He +gazed wildly about, saw his cap on a table, snatched it up, and made for +the stairs quietly, but with a strange, tottering gait, like the last +effort of waning strength. + +Shortly after his head had sunk below the level of the floor, Freya came +out from behind the curtain, with compressed, scheming lips, and no +softness at all in her luminous eyes. He could not be allowed to sneak +off scot free. Never—never! She was excited, she tingled all over, she +had tasted blood! He must be made to understand that she had been aware +of having been watched; he must know that he had been seen slinking off +shamefully. But to run to the front rail and shout after him would have +been childish, crude—undignified. And to shout—what? What word? What +phrase? No; it was impossible. Then how? . . . She frowned, discovered +it, dashed at the piano, which had stood open all night, and made the +rosewood monster growl savagery in an irritated bass. She struck chords +as if firing shots after that straddling, broad figure in ample white +trousers and a dark uniform jacket with gold shoulder-straps, and then +she pursued him with the same thing she had played the evening before—a +modern, fierce piece of love music which had been tried more than once +against the thunderstorms of the group. She accentuated its rhythm with +triumphant malice, so absorbed in her purpose that she did not notice the +presence of her father, who, wearing an old threadbare ulster of a check +pattern over his sleeping suit, had run out from the back verandah to +inquire the reason of this untimely performance. He stared at her. + +“What on earth? . . . Freya!” His voice was nearly drowned by the piano. +“What’s become of the lieutenant?” he shouted. + +She looked up at him as if her soul were lost in her music, with unseeing +eyes. + +“Gone.” + +“Wha-a-t? . . . Where?” + +She shook her head slightly, and went on playing louder than before. Old +Nelson’s innocently anxious gaze starting from the open door of his room, +explored the whole place high and low, as if the lieutenant were +something small which might have been crawling on the floor or clinging +to a wall. But a shrill whistle coming somewhere from below pierced the +ample volume of sound rolling out of the piano in great, vibrating waves. +The lieutenant was down at the cove, whistling for the boat to come and +take him off to his ship. And he seemed to be in a terrific hurry, too, +for he whistled again almost directly, waited for a moment, and then sent +out a long, interminable, shrill call as distressful to hear as though he +had shrieked without drawing breath. Freya ceased playing suddenly. + +“Going on board,” said old Nelson, perturbed by the event. “What could +have made him clear out so early? Queer chap. Devilishly touchy, too! +I shouldn’t wonder if it was your conduct last night that hurt his +feelings? I noticed you, Freya. You as well as laughed in his face, +while he was suffering agonies from neuralgia. It isn’t the way to get +yourself liked. He’s offended with you.” + +Freya’s hands now reposed passive on the keys; she bowed her fair head, +feeling a sudden discontent, a nervous lassitude, as though she had +passed through some exhausting crisis. Old Nelson (or Nielsen), looking +aggrieved, was revolving matters of policy in his bald head. + +“I think it would be right for me to go on board just to inquire, some +time this morning,” he declared fussily. “Why don’t they bring me my +morning tea? Do you hear, Freya? You have astonished me, I must say. I +didn’t think a young girl could be so unfeeling. And the lieutenant +thinks himself a friend of ours, too! What? No? Well, he calls himself +a friend, and that’s something to a person in my position. Certainly! +Oh, yes, I must go on board.” + +“Must you?” murmured Freya listlessly; then added, in her thought: “Poor +man!” + + + +CHAPTER V + + +IN respect of the next seven weeks, all that is necessary to say is, +first, that old Nelson (or Nielsen) failed in paying his politic call. +The _Neptun_ gunboat of H.M. the King of the Netherlands, commanded by an +outraged and infuriated lieutenant, left the cove at an unexpectedly +early hour. When Freya’s father came down to the shore, after seeing his +precious crop of tobacco spread out properly in the sun, she was already +steaming round the point. Old Nelson regretted the circumstance for many +days. + +“Now, I don’t know in what disposition the man went away,” he lamented to +his hard daughter. He was amazed at her hardness. He was almost +frightened by her indifference. + +Next, it must be recorded that the same day the gunboat _Neptun_, +steering east, passed the brig _Bonito_ becalmed in sight of Carimata, +with her head to the eastward, too. Her captain, Jasper Allen, giving +himself up consciously to a tender, possessive reverie of his Freya, did +not get out of his long chair on the poop to look at the _Neptun_ which +passed so close that the smoke belching out suddenly from her short black +funnel rolled between the masts of the Bonito, obscuring for a moment the +sunlit whiteness of her sails, consecrated to the service of love. +Jasper did not even turn his head for a glance. But Heemskirk, on the +bridge, had gazed long and earnestly at the brig from the distance, +gripping hard the brass rail in front of him, till, the two ships +closing, he lost all confidence in himself, and retreating to the +chartroom, pulled the door to with a crash. There, his brows knitted, +his mouth drawn on one side in sardonic meditation, he sat through many +still hours—a sort of Prometheus in the bonds of unholy desire, having +his very vitals torn by the beak and claws of humiliated passion. + +That species of fowl is not to be shooed off as easily as a chicken. +Fooled, cheated, deceived, led on, outraged, mocked at—beak and claws! A +sinister bird! The lieutenant had no mind to become the talk of the +Archipelago, as the naval officer who had had his face slapped by a girl. +Was it possible that she really loved that rascally trader? He tried not +to think, but, worse than thoughts, definite impressions beset him in his +retreat. He saw her—a vision plain, close to, detailed, plastic, +coloured, lighted up—he saw her hanging round the neck of that fellow. +And he shut his eyes, only to discover that this was no remedy. Then a +piano began to play near by, very plainly; and he put his fingers to his +ears with no better effect. It was not to be borne—not in solitude. He +bolted out of the chartroom, and talked of indifferent things somewhat +wildly with the officer of the watch on the bridge, to the mocking +accompaniment of a ghostly piano. + +The last thing to be recorded is that Lieutenant Heemskirk instead of +pursuing his course towards Ternate, where he was expected, went out of +his way to call at Makassar, where no one was looking for his arrival. +Once there, he gave certain explanations and laid a certain proposal +before the governor, or some other authority, and obtained permission to +do what he thought fit in these matters. Thereupon the _Neptun_, giving +up Ternate altogether, steamed north in view of the mountainous coast of +Celebes, and then crossing the broad straits took up her station on the +low coast of virgin forests, inviolate and mute, in waters phosphorescent +at night; deep blue in daytime with gleaming green patches over the +submerged reefs. For days the _Neptun_ could be seen moving smoothly up +and down the sombre face of the shore, or hanging about with a watchful +air near the silvery breaks of broad estuaries, under the great luminous +sky never softened, never veiled, and flooding the earth with the +everlasting sunshine of the tropics—that sunshine which, in its unbroken +splendour, oppresses the soul with an inexpressible melancholy more +intimate, more penetrating, more profound than the grey sadness of the +northern mists. + + . . . . . + +The trading brig _Bonito_ appeared gliding round a sombre forest-clad +point of land on the silvery estuary of a great river. The breath of air +that gave her motion would not have fluttered the flame of a torch. She +stole out into the open from behind a veil of unstirring leaves, +mysteriously silent, ghostly white, and solemnly stealthy in her +imperceptible progress; and Jasper, his elbow in the main rigging, and +his head leaning against his hand, thought of Freya. Everything in the +world reminded him of her. The beauty of the loved woman exists in the +beauties of Nature. The swelling outlines of the hills, the curves of a +coast, the free sinuosities of a river are less suave than the harmonious +lines of her body, and when she moves, gliding lightly, the grace of her +progress suggests the power of occult forces which rule the fascinating +aspects of the visible world. + +Dependent on things as all men are, Jasper loved his vessel—the house of +his dreams. He lent to her something of Freya’s soul. Her deck was the +foothold of their love. The possession of his brig appeased his passion +in a soothing certitude of happiness already conquered. + +The full moon was some way up, perfect and serene, floating in air as +calm and limpid as the glance of Freya’s eyes. There was not a sound in +the brig. + +“Here she shall stand, by my side, on evenings like this,” he thought, +with rapture. + +And it was at that moment, in this peace, in this serenity, under the +full, benign gaze of the moon propitious to lovers, on a sea without a +wrinkle, under a sky without a cloud, as if all Nature had assumed its +most clement mood in a spirit of mockery, that the gunboat _Neptun_, +detaching herself from the dark coast under which she had been lying +invisible, steamed out to intercept the trading brig _Bonito_ standing +out to sea. + +Directly the gunboat had been made out emerging from her ambush, Schultz, +of the fascinating voice, had given signs of strange agitation. All that +day, ever since leaving the Malay town up the river, he had shown a +haggard face, going about his duties like a man with something weighing +on his mind. Jasper had noticed it, but the mate, turning away, as +though he had not liked being looked at, had muttered shamefacedly of a +headache and a touch of fever. He must have had it very badly when, +dodging behind his captain he wondered aloud: “What can that fellow want +with us?” . . . A naked man standing in a freezing blast and trying not +to shiver could not have spoken with a more harshly uncertain intonation. +But it might have been fever—a cold fit. + +“He wants to make himself disagreeable, simply,” said Jasper, with +perfect good humour. “He has tried it on me before. However, we shall +soon see.” + +And, indeed, before long the two vessels lay abreast within easy hail. +The brig, with her fine lines and her white sails, looked vaporous and +sylph-like in the moonlight. The gunboat, short, squat, with her stumpy +dark spars naked like dead trees, raised against the luminous sky of that +resplendent night, threw a heavy shadow on the lane of water between the +two ships. + +Freya haunted them both like an ubiquitous spirit, and as if she were the +only woman in the world. Jasper remembered her earnest recommendation to +be guarded and cautious in all his acts and words while he was away from +her. In this quite unforeseen encounter he felt on his ear the very +breath of these hurried admonitions customary to the last moment of their +partings, heard the half-jesting final whisper of the “Mind, kid, I’d +never forgive you!” with a quick pressure on his arm, which he answered +by a quiet, confident smile. Heemskirk was haunted in another fashion. +There were no whispers in it; it was more like visions. He saw that girl +hanging round the neck of a low vagabond—that vagabond, the vagabond who +had just answered his hail. He saw her stealing bare-footed across a +verandah with great, clear, wide-open, eager eyes to look at a brig—that +brig. If she had shrieked, scolded, called names! . . . But she had +simply triumphed over him. That was all. Led on (he firmly believed +it), fooled, deceived, outraged, struck, mocked at. . . . Beak and claws! +The two men, so differently haunted by Freya of the Seven Isles, were not +equally matched. + +In the intense stillness, as of sleep, which had fallen upon the two +vessels, in a world that itself seemed but a delicate dream, a boat +pulled by Javanese sailors crossing the dark lane of water came alongside +the brig. The white warrant officer in her, perhaps the gunner, climbed +aboard. He was a short man, with a rotund stomach and a wheezy voice. +His immovable fat face looked lifeless in the moonlight, and he walked +with his thick arms hanging away from his body as though he had been +stuffed. His cunning little eyes glittered like bits of mica. He +conveyed to Jasper, in broken English, a request to come on board the +_Neptun_. + +Jasper had not expected anything so unusual. But after a short +reflection he decided to show neither annoyance, nor even surprise. The +river from which he had come had been politically disturbed for a couple +of years, and he was aware that his visits there were looked upon with +some suspicion. But he did not mind much the displeasure of the +authorities, so terrifying to old Nelson. He prepared to leave the brig, +and Schultz followed him to the rail as if to say something, but in the +end stood by in silence. Jasper getting over the side, noticed his +ghastly face. The eyes of the man who had found salvation in the brig +from the effects of his peculiar psychology looked at him with a dumb, +beseeching expression. + +“What’s the matter?” Jasper asked. + +“I wonder how this will end?” said he of the beautiful voice, which had +even fascinated the steady Freya herself. But where was its charming +timbre now? These words had sounded like a raven’s croak. + +“You are ill,” said Jasper positively. + +“I wish I were dead!” was the startling statement uttered by Schultz +talking to himself in the extremity of some mysterious trouble. Jasper +gave him a keen glance, but this was not the time to investigate the +morbid outbreak of a feverish man. He did not look as though he were +actually delirious, and that for the moment must suffice. Schultz made a +dart forward. + +“That fellow means harm!” he said desperately. “He means harm to you, +Captain Allen. I feel it, and I—” + +He choked with inexplicable emotion. + +“All right, Schultz. I won’t give him an opening.” Jasper cut him short +and swung himself into the boat. + +On board the _Neptun_ Heemskirk, standing straddle-legs in the flood of +moonlight, his inky shadow falling right across the quarter-deck, made no +sign at his approach, but secretly he felt something like the heave of +the sea in his chest at the sight of that man. Jasper waited before him +in silence. + +Brought face to face in direct personal contact, they fell at once into +the manner of their casual meetings in old Nelson’s bungalow. They +ignored each other’s existence—Heemskirk moodily; Jasper, with a +perfectly colourless quietness. + +“What’s going on in that river you’ve just come out of?” asked the +lieutenant straight away. + +“I know nothing of the troubles, if you mean that,” Jasper answered. +“I’ve landed there half a cargo of rice, for which I got nothing in +exchange, and went away. There’s no trade there now, but they would have +been starving in another week—if I hadn’t turned up.” + +“Meddling! English meddling! And suppose the rascals don’t deserve +anything better than to starve, eh?” + +“There are women and children there, you know,” observed Jasper, in his +even tone. + +“Oh, yes! When an Englishman talks of women and children, you may be +sure there’s something fishy about the business. Your doings will have +to be investigated.” + +They spoke in turn, as though they had been disembodied spirits—mere +voices in empty air; for they looked at each other as if there had been +nothing there, or, at most, with as much recognition as one gives to an +inanimate object, and no more. But now a silence fell. Heemskirk had +thought, all at once: “She will tell him all about it. She will tell him +while she hangs round his neck laughing.” And the sudden desire to +annihilate Jasper on the spot almost deprived him of his senses by its +vehemence. He lost the power of speech, of vision. For a moment he +absolutely couldn’t see Jasper. But he heard him inquiring, as of the +world at large: + +“Am I, then, to conclude that the brig is detained?” + +Heemskirk made a recovery in a flush of malignant satisfaction. + +“She is. I am going to take her to Makassar in tow.” + +“The courts will have to decide on the legality of this,” said Jasper, +aware that the matter was becoming serious, but with assumed +indifference. + +“Oh, yes, the courts! Certainly. And as to you, I shall keep you on +board here.” + +Jasper’s dismay at being parted from his ship was betrayed by a stony +immobility. It lasted but an instant. Then he turned away and hailed +the brig. Mr. Schultz answered: + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Get ready to receive a tow-rope from the gunboat! We are going to be +taken to Makassar.” + +“Good God! What’s that for, sir?” came an anxious cry faintly. + +“Kindness, I suppose,” Jasper, ironical, shouted with great deliberation. +“We might have been—becalmed in here—for days. And hospitality. I am +invited to stay—on board here.” + +The answer to this information was a loud ejaculation of distress. +Jasper thought anxiously: “Why, the fellow’s nerve’s gone to pieces;” and +with an awkward uneasiness of a new sort, looked intently at the brig. +The thought that he was parted from her—for the first time since they +came together—shook the apparently careless fortitude of his character to +its very foundations, which were deep. All that time neither Heemskirk +nor even his inky shadow had stirred in the least. + +“I am going to send a boat’s crew and an officer on board your vessel,” +he announced to no one in particular. Jasper, tearing himself away from +the absorbed contemplation of the brig, turned round, and, without +passion, almost without expression in his voice, entered his protest +against the whole of the proceedings. What he was thinking of was the +delay. He counted the days. Makassar was actually on his way; and to be +towed there really saved time. On the other hand, there would be some +vexing formalities to go through. But the thing was too absurd. “The +beetle’s gone mad,” he thought. “I’ll be released at once. And if not, +Mesman must enter into a bond for me.” Mesman was a Dutch merchant with +whom Jasper had had many dealings, a considerable person in Makassar. + +“You protest? H’m!” Heemskirk muttered, and for a little longer remained +motionless, his legs planted well apart, and his head lowered as though +he were studying his own comical, deeply-split shadow. Then he made a +sign to the rotund gunner, who had kept at hand, motionless, like a +vilely-stuffed specimen of a fat man, with a lifeless face and glittering +little eyes. The fellow approached, and stood at attention. + +“You will board the brig with a boat’s crew!” + +“Ya, mynherr!” + +“You will have one of your men to steer her all the time,” went on +Heemskirk, giving his orders in English, apparently for Jasper’s +edification. “You hear?” + +“Ya, mynherr.” + +“You will remain on deck and in charge all the time.” + +“Ya, mynherr.” + +Jasper felt as if, together with the command of the brig, his very heart +were being taken out of his breast. Heemskirk asked, with a change of +tone: + +“What weapons have you on board?” + +At one time all the ships trading in the China Seas had a licence to +carry a certain quantity of firearms for purposes of defence. Jasper +answered: + +“Eighteen rifles with their bayonets, which were on board when I bought +her, four years ago. They have been declared.” + +“Where are they kept?” + +“Fore-cabin. Mate has the key.” + +“You will take possession of them,” said Heemskirk to the gunner. + +“Ya, mynherr.” + +“What is this for? What do you mean to imply?” cried out Jasper; then +bit his lip. “It’s monstrous!” he muttered. + +Heemskirk raised for a moment a heavy, as if suffering, glance. + +“You may go,” he said to his gunner. The fat man saluted, and departed. + +During the next thirty hours the steady towing was interrupted once. At +a signal from the brig, made by waving a flag on the forecastle, the +gunboat was stopped. The badly-stuffed specimen of a warrant-officer, +getting into his boat, arrived on board the _Neptun_ and hurried straight +into his commander’s cabin, his excitement at something he had to +communicate being betrayed by the blinking of his small eyes. These two +were closeted together for some time, while Jasper at the taffrail tried +to make out if anything out of the common had occurred on board the brig. + +But nothing seemed to be amiss on board. However, he kept a look-out for +the gunner; and, though he had avoided speaking to anybody since he had +finished with Heemskirk, he stopped that man when he came out on deck +again to ask how his mate was. + +“He was feeling not very well when I left,” he explained. + +The fat warrant-officer, holding himself as though the effort of carrying +his big stomach in front of him demanded a rigid carriage, understood +with difficulty. Not a single one of his features showed the slightest +animation, but his little eyes blinked rapidly at last. + +“Oh, ya! The mate. Ya, ya! He is very well. But, mein Gott, he is one +very funny man!” + +Jasper could get no explanation of that remark, because the Dutchman got +into the boat hurriedly, and went back on board the brig. But he +consoled himself with the thought that very soon all this unpleasant and +rather absurd experience would be over. The roadstead of Makassar was in +sight already. Heemskirk passed by him going on the bridge. For the +first time the lieutenant looked at Jasper with marked intention; and the +strange roll of his eyes was so funny—it had been long agreed by Jasper +and Freya that the lieutenant was funny—so ecstatically gratified, as +though he were rolling a tasty morsel on his tongue, that Jasper could +not help a broad smile. And then he turned to his brig again. + +To see her, his cherished possession, animated by something of his +Freya’s soul, the only foothold of two lives on the wide earth, the +security of his passion, the companion of adventure, the power to snatch +the calm, adorable Freya to his breast, and carry her off to the end of +the world; to see this beautiful thing embodying worthily his pride and +his love, to see her captive at the end of a tow-rope was not indeed a +pleasant experience. It had something nightmarish in it, as, for +instance, the dream of a wild sea-bird loaded with chains. + +Yet what else could he want to look at? Her beauty would sometimes come +to his heart with the force of a spell, so that he would forget where he +was. And, besides, that sense of superiority which the certitude of +being loved gives to a young man, that illusion of being set above the +Fates by a tender look in a woman’s eyes, helped him, the first shock +over, to go through these experiences with an amused self-confidence. +For what evil could touch the elect of Freya? + +It was now afternoon, the sun being behind the two vessels as they headed +for the harbour. “The beetle’s little joke shall soon be over,” thought +Jasper, without any great animosity. As a seaman well acquainted with +that part of the world, a casual glance was enough to tell him what was +being done. “Hallo,” he thought, “he is going through Spermonde Passage. +We shall be rounding Tamissa reef presently.” And again he returned to +the contemplation of his brig, that main-stay of his material and +emotional existence which would be soon in his hands again. On a sea, +calm like a millpond, a heavy smooth ripple undulated and streamed away +from her bows, for the powerful _Neptun_ was towing at great speed, as if +for a wager. The Dutch gunner appeared on the forecastle of the +_Bonito_, and with him a couple of men. They stood looking at the coast, +and Jasper lost himself in a loverlike trance. + +The deep-toned blast of the gunboat’s steam-whistle made him shudder by +its unexpectedness. Slowly he looked about. Swift as lightning he +leaped from where he stood, bounding forward along the deck. + +“You will be on Tamissa reef!” he yelled. + +High up on the bridge Heemskirk looked back over his shoulder heavily; +two seamen were spinning the wheel round, and the _Neptun_ was already +swinging rapidly away from the edge of the pale water over the danger. +Ha! just in time. Jasper turned about instantly to watch his brig; and, +even before he realised that—in obedience, it appears, to Heemskirk’s +orders given beforehand to the gunner—the tow-rope had been let go at the +blast of the whistle, before he had time to cry out or to move a limb, he +saw her cast adrift and shooting across the gunboat’s stern with the +impetus of her speed. He followed her fine, gliding form with eyes +growing big with incredulity, wild with horror. The cries on board of +her came to him only as a dreadful and confused murmur through the loud +thumping of blood in his ears, while she held on. She ran upright in a +terrible display of her gift of speed, with an incomparable air of life +and grace. She ran on till the smooth level of water in front of her +bows seemed to sink down suddenly as if sucked away; and, with a strange, +violent tremor of her mast-heads she stopped, inclined her lofty spars a +little, and lay still. She lay still on the reef, while the _Neptun_, +fetching a wide circle, continued at full speed up Spermonde Passage, +heading for the town. She lay still, perfectly still, with something +ill-omened and unnatural in her attitude. In an instant the subtle +melancholy of things touched by decay had fallen on her in the sunshine; +she was but a speck in the brilliant emptiness of space, already lonely, +already desolate. + +“Hold him!” yelled a voice from the bridge. + +Jasper had started to run to his brig with a headlong impulse, as a man +dashes forward to pull away with his hands a living, breathing, loved +creature from the brink of destruction. “Hold him! Stick to him!” +vociferated the lieutenant at the top of the bridge-ladder, while Jasper +struggled madly without a word, only his head emerging from the heaving +crowd of the _Neptun’s_ seamen, who had flung themselves upon him +obediently. “Hold—I would not have that fellow drown himself for +anything now!” + +Jasper ceased struggling. + +One by one they let go of him; they fell back gradually farther and +farther, in attentive silence, leaving him standing unsupported in a +widened, clear space, as if to give him plenty of room to fall after the +struggle. He did not even sway perceptibly. Half an hour later, when +the _Neptun_ anchored in front of the town, he had not stirred yet, had +moved neither head nor limb as much as a hair’s breadth. Directly the +rumble of the gunboat’s cable had ceased, Heemskirk came down heavily +from the bridge. + +“Call a sampan” he said, in a gloomy tone, as he passed the sentry at the +gangway, and then moved on slowly towards the spot where Jasper, the +object of many awed glances, stood looking at the deck, as if lost in a +brown study. Heemskirk came up close, and stared at him thoughtfully, +with his fingers over his lips. Here he was, the favoured vagabond, the +only man to whom that infernal girl was likely to tell the story. But he +would not find it funny. The story how Lieutenant Heemskirk—No, he would +not laugh at it. He looked as though he would never laugh at anything in +his life. + +Suddenly Jasper looked up. His eyes, without any other expression but +bewilderment, met those of Heemskirk, observant and sombre. + +“Gone on the reef!” he said, in a low, astounded tone. “On-the-reef!” he +repeated still lower, and as if attending inwardly to the birth of some +awful and amazing sensation. + +“On the very top of high-water, spring tides,” Heemskirk struck in, with +a vindictive, exulting violence which flashed and expired. He paused, as +if weary, fixing upon Jasper his arrogant eyes, over which secret +disenchantment, the unavoidable shadow of all passion, seemed to pass +like a saddening cloud. “On the very top,” he repeated, rousing himself +in fierce reaction to snatch his laced cap off his head with a +horizontal, derisive flourish towards the gangway. “And now you may go +ashore to the courts, you damned Englishman!” he said. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +THE affair of the brig _Bonito_ was bound to cause a sensation in +Makassar, the prettiest, and perhaps the cleanest-looking of all the +towns in the Islands; which however knows few occasions for excitement. +The “front,” with its special population, was soon aware that something +had happened. A steamer towing a sailing vessel had been observed far +out to sea for some time, and when the steamer came in alone, leaving the +other outside, attention was aroused. Why was that? Her masts only +could be seen—with furled sails—remaining in the same place to the +southward. And soon the rumour ran all along the crowded seashore street +that there was a ship on Tamissa reef. That crowd interpreted the +appearance correctly. Its cause was beyond their penetration, for who +could associate a girl nine hundred miles away with the stranding of a +ship on Tamissa reef, or look for the remote filiation of that event in +the psychology of at least three people, even if one of them, Lieutenant +Heemskirk, was at that very moment passing amongst them on his way to +make his verbal report? + +No; the minds on the “front” were not competent for that sort of +investigation, but many hands there—brown hands, yellow hands, white +hands—were raised to shade the eyes gazing out to sea. The rumour spread +quickly. Chinese shopkeepers came to their doors, more than one white +merchant, even, rose from his desk to go to the window. After all, a +ship on Tamissa was not an everyday occurrence. And presently the rumour +took a more definite shape. An English trader—detained on suspicion at +sea by the _Neptun_—Heemskirk was towing him in to test a case, and by +some strange accident— + +Later on the name came out. “The _Bonito_—what! Impossible! Yes—yes, +the _Bonito_. Look! You can see from here; only two masts. It’s a +brig. Didn’t think that man would ever let himself be caught. +Heemskirk’s pretty smart, too. They say she’s fitted out in her cabin +like a gentleman’s yacht. That Allen is a sort of gentleman too. An +extravagant beggar.” + +A young man entered smartly Messrs. Mesman Brothers’ office on the +“front,” bubbling with some further information. + +“Oh, yes; that’s the _Bonito_ for certain! But you don’t know the story +I’ve heard just now. The fellow must have been feeding that river with +firearms for the last year or two. Well, it seems he has grown so +reckless from long impunity that he has actually dared to sell the very +ship’s rifles this time. It’s a fact. The rifles are not on board. +What impudence! Only, he didn’t know that there was one of our warships +on the coast. But those Englishmen are so impudent that perhaps he +thought that nothing would be done to him for it. Our courts do let off +these fellows too often, on some miserable excuse or other. But, at any +rate, there’s an end of the famous _Bonito_. I have just heard in the +harbour-office that she must have gone on at the very top of high-water; +and she is in ballast, too. No human power, they think, can move her +from where she is. I only hope it is so. It would be fine to have the +notorious _Bonito_ stuck up there as a warning to others.” + +Mr. J. Mesman, a colonial-born Dutchman, a kind, paternal old fellow, +with a clean-shaven, quiet, handsome face, and a head of fine iron-grey +hair curling a little on his collar, did not say a word in defence of +Jasper and the _Bonito_. He rose from his arm-chair suddenly. His face +was visibly troubled. It had so happened that once, from a business talk +of ways and means, island trade, money matters, and so on, Jasper had +been led to open himself to him on the subject of Freya; and the +excellent man, who had known old Nelson years before and even remembered +something of Freya, was much astonished and amused by the unfolding of +the tale. + +“Well, well, well! Nelson! Yes; of course. A very honest sort of man. +And a little child with very fair hair. Oh, yes! I have a distinct +recollection. And so she has grown into such a fine girl, so very +determined, so very—” And he laughed almost boisterously. “Mind, when +you have happily eloped with your future wife, Captain Allen, you must +come along this way, and we shall welcome her here. A little fair-headed +child! I remember. I remember.” + +It was that knowledge which had brought trouble to his face at the first +news of the wreck. He took up his hat. + +“Where are you going, Mr. Mesman?” + +“I am going to look for Allen. I think he must be ashore. Does anybody +know?” + +No one of those present knew. And Mr. Mesman went out on the “front” to +make inquiries. + +The other part of the town, the part near the church and the fort, got +its information in another way. The first thing disclosed to it was +Jasper himself, walking rapidly, as though he were pursued. And, as a +matter of fact, a Chinaman, obviously a sampan man, was following him at +the same headlong pace. Suddenly, while passing Orange House, Jasper +swerved and went in, or, rather, rushed in, startling Gomez, the hotel +clerk, very much. But a Chinaman beginning to make an unseemly noise at +the door claimed the immediate attention of Gomez. His grievance was +that the white man whom he had brought on shore from the gunboat had not +paid him his boat-fare. He had pursued him so far, asking for it all the +way. But the white man had taken no notice whatever of his just claim. +Gomez satisfied the coolie with a few coppers, and then went to look for +Jasper, whom he knew very well. He found him standing stiffly by a +little round table. At the other end of the verandah a few men sitting +there had stopped talking, and were looking at him in silence. Two +billiard-players, with cues in their hands, had come to the door of the +billiard-room and stared, too. + +On Gomez coming up to him, Jasper raised one hand to point at his own +throat. Gomez noted the somewhat soiled state of his white clothes, then +took one look at his face, and fled away to order the drink for which +Jasper seemed to be asking. + +Where he wanted to go—or what purpose—where he, perhaps, only imagined +himself to be going, when a sudden impulse or the sight of a familiar +place had made him turn into Orange House—it is impossible to say. He +was steadying himself lightly with the tips of his fingers on the little +table. There were on that verandah two men whom he knew well personally, +but his gaze roaming incessantly as though he were looking for a way of +escape, passed and repassed over them without a sign of recognition. +They, on their side, looking at him, doubted the evidence of their own +eyes. It was not that his face was distorted. On the contrary, it was +still, it was set. But its expression, somehow, was unrecognisable. Can +that be him? they wondered with awe. + +In his head there was a wild chaos of clear thoughts. Perfectly clear. +It was this clearness which was so terrible in conjunction with the utter +inability to lay hold of any single one of them all. He was saying to +himself, or to them: “Steady, steady.” A China boy appeared before him +with a glass on a tray. He poured the drink down his throat, and rushed +out. His disappearance removed the spell of wonder from the beholders. +One of the men jumped up and moved quickly to that side of the verandah +from which almost the whole of the roadstead could be seen. At the very +moment when Jasper, issuing from the door of the Orange House, was +passing under him in the street below, he cried to the others excitedly: + +“That was Allen right enough! But where is his brig?” + +Jasper heard these words with extraordinary loudness. The heavens rang +with them, as if calling him to account; for those were the very words +Freya would have to use. It was an annihilating question; it struck his +consciousness like a thunderbolt and brought a sudden night upon the +chaos of his thoughts even as he walked. He did not check his pace. He +went on in the darkness for another three strides, and then fell. + +The good Mesman had to push on as far as the hospital before he found +him. The doctor there talked of a slight heatstroke. Nothing very much. +Out in three days. . . . It must be admitted that the doctor was right. +In three days, Jasper Allen came out of the hospital and became visible +to the town—very visible indeed—and remained so for quite a long time; +long enough to become almost one of the sights of the place; long enough +to become disregarded at last; long enough for the tale of his haunting +visibility to be remembered in the islands to this day. + +The talk on the “front” and Jasper’s appearance in the Orange House stand +at the beginning of the famous _Bonito_ case, and give a view of its two +aspects—the practical and the psychological. The case for the courts and +the case for compassion; that last terribly evident and yet obscure. + +It has, you must understand, remained obscure even for that friend of +mine who wrote me the letter mentioned in the very first lines of this +narrative. He was one of those in Mr. Mesman’s office, and accompanied +that gentleman in his search for Jasper. His letter described to me the +two aspects and some of the episodes of the case. Heemskirk’s attitude +was that of deep thankfulness for not having lost his own ship, and that +was all. Haze over the land was his explanation of having got so close +to Tamissa reef. He saved his ship, and for the rest he did not care. +As to the fat gunner, he deposed simply that he thought at the time that +he was acting for the best by letting go the tow-rope, but admitted that +he was greatly confused by the suddenness of the emergency. + +As a matter of fact, he had acted on very precise instructions from +Heemskirk, to whom through several years’ service together in the East he +had become a sort of devoted henchman. What was most amazing in the +detention of the _Bonito_ was his story how, proceeding to take +possession of the firearms as ordered, he discovered that there were no +firearms on board. All he found in the fore-cabin was an empty rack for +the proper number of eighteen rifles, but of the rifles themselves never +a single one anywhere in the ship. The mate of the brig, who looked +rather ill and behaved excitedly, as though he were perhaps a lunatic, +wanted him to believe that Captain Allen knew nothing of this; that it +was he, the mate, who had recently sold these rifles in the dead of night +to a certain person up the river. In proof of this story he produced a +bag of silver dollars and pressed it on his, the gunner’s, acceptance. +Then, suddenly flinging it down on the deck, he beat his own head with +both his fists and started heaping shocking curses upon his own soul for +an ungrateful wretch not fit to live. + +All this the gunner reported at once to his commanding officer. + +What Heemskirk intended by taking upon himself to detain the _Bonito_ it +is difficult to say, except that he meant to bring some trouble into the +life of the man favoured by Freya. He had been looking at Jasper with a +desire to strike that man of kisses and embraces to the earth. The +question was: How could he do it without giving himself away? But the +report of the gunner created a serious case enough. Yet Allen had +friends—and who could tell whether he wouldn’t somehow succeed in +wriggling out of it? The idea of simply towing the brig so much +compromised on to the reef came to him while he was listening to the fat +gunner in his cabin. There was but little risk of being disapproved now. +And it should be made to appear an accident. + +Going out on deck he had gloated upon his unconscious victim with such a +sinister roll of his eyes, such a queerly pursed mouth, that Jasper could +not help smiling. And the lieutenant had gone on the bridge, saying to +himself: + +“You wait! I shall spoil the taste of those sweet kisses for you. When +you hear of Lieutenant Heemskirk in the future that name won’t bring a +smile on your lips, I swear. You are delivered into my hands.” + +And this possibility had come about without any planning, one could +almost say naturally, as if events had mysteriously shaped themselves to +fit the purposes of a dark passion. The most astute scheming could not +have served Heemskirk better. It was given to him to taste a +transcendental, an incredible perfection of vengeance; to strike a deadly +blow into that hated person’s heart, and to watch him afterwards walking +about with the dagger in his breast. + +For that is what the state of Jasper amounted to. He moved, acted, +weary-eyed, keen-faced, lank and restless, with brusque movements and +fierce gestures; he talked incessantly in a frenzied and fatigued voice, +but within himself he knew that nothing would ever give him back the +brig, just as nothing can heal a pierced heart. His soul, kept quiet in +the stress of love by the unflinching Freya’s influence, was like a still +but overwound string. The shock had started it vibrating, and the string +had snapped. He had waited for two years in a perfectly intoxicated +confidence for a day that now would never come to a man disarmed for life +by the loss of the brig, and, it seemed to him, made unfit for love to +which he had no foothold to offer. + +Day after day he would traverse the length of the town, follow the coast, +and, reaching the point of land opposite that part of the reef on which +his brig lay stranded, look steadily across the water at her beloved +form, once the home of an exulting hope, and now, in her inclined, +desolated immobility, towering above the lonely sea-horizon, a symbol of +despair. + +The crew had left her in due course in her own boats which directly they +reached the town were sequestrated by the harbour authorities. The +vessel, too, was sequestrated pending proceedings; but these same +authorities did not take the trouble to set a guard on board. For, +indeed, what could move her from there? Nothing, unless a miracle; +nothing, unless Jasper’s eyes, fastened on her tensely for hours +together, as though he hoped by the mere power of vision to draw her to +his breast. + +All this story, read in my friend’s very chatty letter, dismayed me not a +little. But it was really appalling to read his relation of how Schultz, +the mate, went about everywhere affirming with desperate pertinacity that +it was he alone who had sold the rifles. “I stole them,” he protested. +Of course, no one would believe him. My friend himself did not believe +him, though he, of course, admired this self-sacrifice. But a good many +people thought it was going too far to make oneself out a thief for the +sake of a friend. Only, it was such an obvious lie, too, that it did not +matter, perhaps. + +I, who, in view of Schultz’s psychology, knew how true that must be, +admit that I was appalled. So this was how a perfidious destiny took +advantage of a generous impulse! And I felt as though I were an +accomplice in this perfidy, since I did to a certain extent encourage +Jasper. Yet I had warned him as well. + +“The man seemed to have gone crazy on this point,” wrote my friend. “He +went to Mesman with his story. He says that some rascally white man +living amongst the natives up that river made him drunk with some gin one +evening, and then jeered at him for never having any money. Then he, +protesting to us that he was an honest man and must be believed, +described himself as being a thief whenever he took a drop too much, and +told us that he went on board and passed the rifles one by one without +the slightest compunction to a canoe which came alongside that night, +receiving ten dollars apiece for them. + +“Next day he was ill with shame and grief, but had not the courage to +confess his lapse to his benefactor. When the gunboat stopped the brig +he felt ready to die with the apprehension of the consequences, and would +have died happily, if he could have been able to bring the rifles back by +the sacrifice of his life. He said nothing to Jasper, hoping that the +brig would be released presently. When it turned out otherwise and his +captain was detained on board the gunboat, he was ready to commit suicide +from despair; only he thought it his duty to live in order to let the +truth be known. ‘I am an honest man! I am an honest man!’ he repeated, +in a voice that brought tears to our eyes. ‘You must believe me when I +tell you that I am a thief—a vile, low, cunning, sneaking thief as soon +as I’ve had a glass or two. Take me somewhere where I may tell the truth +on oath.’ + +“When we had at last convinced him that his story could be of no use to +Jasper—for what Dutch court, having once got hold of an English trader, +would accept such an explanation; and, indeed, how, when, where could one +hope to find proofs of such a tale?—he made as if to tear his hair in +handfuls, but, calming down, said: ‘Good-bye, then, gentlemen,’ and went +out of the room so crushed that he seemed hardly able to put one foot +before the other. That very night he committed suicide by cutting his +throat in the house of a half-caste with whom he had been lodging since +he came ashore from the wreck.” + +That throat, I thought with a shudder, which could produce the tender, +persuasive, manly, but fascinating voice which had aroused Jasper’s ready +compassion and had secured Freya’s sympathy! Who could ever have +supposed such an end in store for the impossible, gentle Schultz, with +his idiosyncrasy of naïve pilfering, so absurdly straightforward that, +even in the people who had suffered from it, it aroused nothing more than +a sort of amused exasperation? He was really impossible. His lot +evidently should have been a half-starved, mysterious, but by no means +tragic existence as a mild-eyed, inoffensive beachcomber on the fringe of +native life. There are occasions when the irony of fate, which some +people profess to discover in the working out of our lives, wears the +aspect of crude and savage jesting. + +I shook my head over the manes of Schultz, and went on with my friend’s +letter. It told me how the brig on the reef, looted by the natives from +the coast villages, acquired gradually the lamentable aspect, the grey +ghastliness of a wreck; while Jasper, fading daily into a mere shadow of +a man, strode brusquely all along the “front” with horribly lively eyes +and a faint, fixed smile on his lips, to spend the day on a lonely spit +of sand looking eagerly at her, as though he had expected some shape on +board to rise up and make some sort of sign to him over the decaying +bulwarks. The Mesmans were taking care of him as far as it was possible. +The _Bonito_ case had been referred to Batavia, where no doubt it would +fade away in a fog of official papers. . . . It was heartrending to read +all this. That active and zealous officer, Lieutenant Heemskirk, his air +of sullen, darkly-pained self-importance not lightened by the approval of +his action conveyed to him unofficially, had gone on to take up his +station in the Moluccas. . . . + +Then, at the end of the bulky, kindly-meant epistle, dealing with the +island news of half a year at least, my friend wrote: “A couple of months +ago old Nelson turned up here, arriving by the mail-boat from Java. Came +to see Mesman, it seems. A rather mysterious visit, and extraordinarily +short, after coming all that way. He stayed just four days at the Orange +House, with apparently nothing in particular to do, and then caught the +south-going steamer for the Straits. I remember people saying at one +time that Allen was rather sweet on old Nelson’s daughter, the girl that +was brought up by Mrs. Harley and then went to live with him at the Seven +Isles group. Surely you remember old Nelson—” + +Remember old Nelson! Rather! + +The letter went on to inform me further that old Nelson, at least, +remembered me, since some time after his flying visit to Makassar he had +written to the Mesmans asking for my address in London. + +That old Nelson (or Nielsen), the note of whose personality was a +profound, echoless irresponsiveness to everything around him, should wish +to write, or find anything to write about to anybody, was in itself a +cause for no small wonder. And to me, of all people! I waited with +uneasy impatience for whatever disclosure could come from that naturally +benighted intelligence, but my impatience had time to wear out before my +eyes beheld old Nelson’s trembling, painfully-formed handwriting, senile +and childish at the same time, on an envelope bearing a penny stamp and +the postal mark of the Notting Hill office. I delayed opening it in +order to pay the tribute of astonishment due to the event by flinging my +hands above my head. So he had come home to England, to be definitely +Nelson; or else was on his way home to Denmark, where he would revert for +ever to his original Nielsen! But old Nelson (or Nielsen) out of the +tropics seemed unthinkable. And yet he was there, asking me to call. + +His address was at a boarding-house in one of those Bayswater squares, +once of leisure, which nowadays are reduced to earning their living. +Somebody had recommended him there. I started to call on him on one of +those January days in London, one of those wintry days composed of the +four devilish elements, cold, wet, mud, and grime, combined with a +particular stickiness of atmosphere that clings like an unclean garment +to one’s very soul. Yet on approaching his abode I saw, like a flicker +far behind the soiled veil of the four elements, the wearisome and +splendid glitter of a blue sea with the Seven Islets like minute specks +swimming in my eye, the high red roof of the bungalow crowning the very +smallest of them all. This visual reminiscence was profoundly +disturbing. I knocked at the door with a faltering hand. + +Old Nelson (or Nielsen) got up from the table at which he was sitting +with a shabby pocket-book full of papers before him. He took off his +spectacles before shaking hands. For a moment neither of us said a word; +then, noticing me looking round somewhat expectantly, he murmured some +words, of which I caught only “daughter” and “Hong Kong,” cast his eyes +down, and sighed. + +His moustache, sticking all ways out, as of yore, was quite white now. +His old cheeks were softly rounded, with some colour in them; strangely +enough, that something childlike always noticeable in the general contour +of his physiognomy had become much more marked. Like his handwriting, he +looked childish and senile. He showed his age most in his +unintelligently furrowed, anxious forehead and in his round, innocent +eyes, which appeared to me weak and blinking and watery; or was it that +they were full of tears? . . . + +To discover old Nelson fully informed upon any matter whatever was a new +experience. And after the first awkwardness had worn off he talked +freely, with, now and then, a question to start him going whenever he +lapsed into silence, which he would do suddenly, clasping his hands on +his waistcoat in an attitude which would recall to me the east verandah, +where he used to sit talking quietly and puffing out his cheeks in what +seemed now old, very old days. He talked in a reasonable somewhat +anxious tone. + +“No, no. We did not know anything for weeks. Out of the way like that, +we couldn’t, of course. No mail service to the Seven Isles. But one day +I ran over to Banka in my big sailing-boat to see whether there were any +letters, and saw a Dutch paper. But it looked only like a bit of marine +news: English brig _Bonito_ gone ashore outside Makassar roads. That was +all. I took the paper home with me and showed it to her. ‘I will never +forgive him!’ she cries with her old spirit. ‘My dear,’ I said, ‘you are +a sensible girl. The best man may lose a ship. But what about your +health?’ I was beginning to be frightened at her looks. She would not +let me talk even of going to Singapore before. But, really, such a +sensible girl couldn’t keep on objecting for ever. ‘Do what you like, +papa,’ she says. Rather a job, that. Had to catch a steamer at sea, but +I got her over all right. There, doctors, of course. Fever. Anæmia. +Put her to bed. Two or three women very kind to her. Naturally in our +papers the whole story came out before long. She reads it to the end, +lying on the couch; then hands the newspaper back to me, whispers +‘Heemskirk,’ and goes off into a faint.” + +He blinked at me for quite a long time, his eyes running full of tears +again. + +“Next day,” he began, without any emotion in his voice, “she felt +stronger, and we had a long talk. She told me everything.” + +Here old Nelson, with his eyes cast down, gave me the whole story of the +Heemskirk episode in Freya’s words; then went on in his rather jerky +utterance, and looking up innocently: + +“‘My dear,’ I said, ‘you have behaved in the main like a sensible girl.’ +‘I have been horrid,’ she cries, ‘and he is breaking his heart over +there.’ Well, she was too sensible not to see she wasn’t in a state to +travel. But I went. She told me to go. She was being looked after very +well. Anæmia. Getting better, they said.” + +He paused. + +“You did see him?” I murmured. + +“Oh, yes; I did see him,” he started again, talking in that reasonable +voice as though he were arguing a point. “I did see him. I came upon +him. Eyes sunk an inch into his head; nothing but skin on the bones of +his face, a skeleton in dirty white clothes. That’s what he looked like. +How Freya . . . But she never did—not really. He was sitting there, the +only live thing for miles along that coast, on a drift-log washed up on +the shore. They had clipped his hair in the hospital, and it had not +grown again. He stared, holding his chin in his hand, and with nothing +on the sea between him and the sky but that wreck. When I came up to him +he just moved his head a bit. ‘Is that you, old man?’ says he—like that. + +“If you had seen him you would have understood at once how impossible it +was for Freya to have ever loved that man. Well, well. I don’t say. +She might have—something. She was lonely, you know. But really to go +away with him! Never! Madness. She was too sensible . . . I began to +reproach him gently. And by and by he turns on me. ‘Write to you! What +about? Come to her! What with? If I had been a man I would have +carried her off, but she made a child, a happy child, of me. Tell her +that the day the only thing I had belonging to me in the world perished +on this reef I discovered that I had no power over her. . . Has she come +here with you?’ he shouts, blazing at me suddenly with his hollow eyes. +I shook my head. Come with me, indeed! Anæmia! ‘Aha! You see? Go +away, then, old man, and leave me alone here with that ghost,’ he says, +jerking his head at the wreck of his brig. + +“Mad! It was getting dusk. I did not care to stop any longer all by +myself with that man in that lonely place. I was not going to tell him +of Freya’s illness. Anæmia! What was the good? Mad! And what sort of +husband would he have made, anyhow, for a sensible girl like Freya? Why, +even my little property I could not have left them. The Dutch +authorities would never have allowed an Englishman to settle there. It +was not sold then. My man Mahmat, you know, was looking after it for me. +Later on I let it go for a tenth of its value to a Dutch half-caste. But +never mind. It was nothing to me then. Yes; I went away from him. I +caught the return mail-boat. I told everything to Freya. ‘He’s mad,’ I +said; ‘and, my dear, the only thing he loved was his brig.’ + +“‘Perhaps,’ she says to herself, looking straight away—her eyes were +nearly as hollow as his—‘perhaps it is true. Yes! I would never allow +him any power over me.’” + +Old Nelson paused. I sat fascinated, and feeling a little cold in that +room with a blazing fire. + +“So you see,” he continued, “she never really cared for him. Much too +sensible. I took her away to Hong Kong. Change of climate, they said. +Oh, these doctors! My God! Winter time! There came ten days of cold +mists and wind and rain. Pneumonia. But look here! We talked a lot +together. Days and evenings. Who else had she? . . . She talked a lot +to me, my own girl. Sometimes she would laugh a little. Look at me and +laugh a little—” + +I shuddered. He looked up vaguely, with a childish, puzzled moodiness. + +“She would say: ‘I did not really mean to be a bad daughter to you, +papa.’ And I would say: ‘Of course, my dear. You could not have meant +it.’ She would lie quiet and then say: ‘I wonder?’ And sometimes, ‘I’ve +been really a coward,’ she would tell me. You know, sick people they say +things. And so she would say too: ‘I’ve been conceited, headstrong, +capricious. I sought my own gratification. I was selfish or afraid.’ +. . . But sick people, you know, they say anything. And once, after lying +silent almost all day, she said: ‘Yes; perhaps, when the day came I would +not have gone. Perhaps! I don’t know,’ she cried. ‘Draw the curtain, +papa. Shut the sea out. It reproaches me with my folly.’” He gasped +and paused. + +“So you see,” he went on in a murmur. “Very ill, very ill indeed. +Pneumonia. Very sudden.” He pointed his finger at the carpet, while the +thought of the poor girl, vanquished in her struggle with three men’s +absurdities, and coming at last to doubt her own self, held me in a very +anguish of pity. + +“You see yourself,” he began again in a downcast manner. “She could not +have really . . . She mentioned you several times. Good friend. +Sensible man. So I wanted to tell you myself—let you know the truth. A +fellow like that! How could it be? She was lonely. And perhaps for a +while . . . Mere nothing. There could never have been a question of love +for my Freya—such a sensible girl—” + +“Man!” I cried, rising upon him wrathfully, “don’t you see that she died +of it?” + +He got up too. “No! no!” he stammered, as if angry. “The doctors! +Pneumonia. Low state. The inflammation of the . . . They told me. +Pneu—” + +He did not finish the word. It ended in a sob. He flung his arms out in +a gesture of despair, giving up his ghastly pretence with a low, +heartrending cry: + +“And I thought that she was so sensible!” + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1055 *** |