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diff --git a/old/1055-h/1055-h.htm b/old/1055-h/1055-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8926846 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1055-h/1055-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9560 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of 'Twixt Land & Sea, by Joseph Conrad</title> + <style type="text/css"> + + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + + </style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of ’Twixt Land & Sea, by Joseph Conrad</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: ’Twixt Land & Sea</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Joseph Conrad</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 21, 1997 [eBook #1055]<br /> +[Most recently updated: December 14, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Price</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ’TWIXT LAND & SEA ***</div> + +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/coverb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Book cover" +title= +"Book cover" +src="images/covers.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>’TWIXT LAND & SEA<br /> +TALES</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +<b>JOSEPH CONRAD</b></p> +<p style="text-align: center">A SMILE OF FORTUNE</p> +<p style="text-align: center">THE SECRET SHARER</p> +<p style="text-align: center">FREYA OF THE SEVEN<br /> +ISLES</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic" +title= +"Decorative graphic" +src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<blockquote><p><i>Life is a tragic folly</i><br /> +<i>Let us laugh and be jolly</i><br /> +<i>Away with melancholy</i><br /> +<i>Bring me a branch of holly</i><br /> +<i>Life is a tragic folly</i></p> +<p style="text-align: right">A. <span +class="smcap">Symons</span>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON: J. M. DENT & SONS +LTD.<br /> +ALDINE HOUSE, COVENT GARDEN · 1920</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">First Edition</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>October</i> 1912</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Reprinted</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><i>November</i> 1912; <i>January</i> 1913; <i>November</i> +1918; <i>December</i> 1920</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>All rights reserved</i></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">To</span><br /> +CAPTAIN C. M. MARRIS<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">LATE MASTER AND OWNER</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OF THE</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ARABY MAID: ARCHIPELAGO TRADER</span><br +/> +<span class="GutSmall">IN MEMORY OF THOSE</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OLD DAYS OF ADVENTURE</span></p> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Smile of Fortune</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Secret Sharer</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page99">99</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Freya of the Seven Isles</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page161">161</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 1</span>A SMILE +OF FORTUNE<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HARBOUR STORY</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Ever</span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Luck, you call it, sir! Ay—our usual +luck. The sort of luck to thank God it’s no +worse!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. Ready at eight, sir. +There’s a gentleman from the shore waiting to speak to you, +sir.”</p> + +<p>This statement was curiously slurred over. I dragged the +shirt violently over my head and emerged staring.</p> + +<p>“So early!” I cried. “Who’s +he? What does he want?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t you ask for the name?” I inquired in +a stern tone.</p> + +<p>“His name’s Jacobus, I believe,” he mumbled +shamefacedly.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Jacobus!” I exclaimed loudly, more surprised +than ever, but with a total change of feeling. “Why +couldn’t you say so at once?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid you will have a poor breakfast,” I +cried apologetically. “We have been sixty-one days at +sea, you know.”</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You can’t see him.”</p> + +<p>“Why can’t I?”</p> + +<p>“The Captain is at breakfast, I tell you. +He’ll be going on shore presently, and you can speak to him +on deck.”</p> + +<p>“That’s not fair. You let—”</p> + +<p>“I’ve had nothing to do with that.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, you have. Everybody ought to have the +same chance. You let that fellow—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Try them, Captain,” he encouraged me in a +friendly undertone. “They are excellent.”</p> + +<p>“They look that,” I admitted. “Grown +on the island, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, imported. Those grown here would be more +expensive.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Are the provisions generally dear here?” I asked, +fretting inwardly at my inanity.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t say that,” he answered placidly, +with that appearance of saving his breath his restrained manner +of speaking suggested.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>“Are these goat’s cutlets?” I exclaimed +hastily, pointing at one of the dishes.</p> + +<p>Posed sentimentally by the sideboard, the steward gave a +start.</p> + +<p>“Lor’, no, sir! It’s real +mutton!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>Hilda</i> 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 <i>Stella</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>“Do you think I ought to?” I asked, +shrinkingly.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“And you, Captain—you are not married I +suppose?”</p> + +<p>“No, I am not married,” I said. +“Neither married nor even engaged.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Of course, I would have made a point of calling on you +in a day or two,” I concluded.</p> + +<p>He raised his eyelids distinctly at me, and somehow managed to +look rather more sleepy than before.</p> + +<p>“In accordance with my owners’ +instructions,” I explained. “You have had their +letter, of course?”</p> + +<p>By that time he had raised his eyebrows too but without any +particular emotion. On the contrary he struck me then as +absolutely imperturbable.</p> + +<p>“Oh! You must be thinking of my +brother.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“My brother’s a very different person. But I +am well known in this part of the world. You’ve +probably heard—”</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>“I’ve never heard of you,” I said +brusquely.</p> + +<p>His low-pitched assurance did not abandon him.</p> + +<p>“You will be very well satisfied,” he breathed out +quietly.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“You must have got up mighty early this +morning.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll find it all right, Captain. I quite +understand.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>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—.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Why,” I cried, “isn’t he the +brother?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. . . . They haven’t spoken to each other +for eighteen years,” he added impressively after a +pause.</p> + +<p>“Indeed! What’s the quarrel +about?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> +<p>I <span class="smcap">would</span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“That’s a good fellow—a real good +fellow”—he swallowed down a belated +sob—“this Jacobus.”</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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 +<i>Hilda</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>I returned this civil speech by saying readily:</p> + +<p>“Not so pretty as the <i>Hilda</i>.”</p> + +<p>At once the corners of his clear-cut, sensitive mouth dropped +dismally.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear! I can hardly bear to look at her +now.”</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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! . . .</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>I was highly amused.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>I affected great compunction, and as I stepped into the boat I +said soberly:</p> + +<p>“Then I see nothing for it but to fit in a neat +fiddlehead—perhaps. You know, carved scrollwork, +nicely gilt.”</p> + +<p>He became very dejected after his outburst.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He made a convulsive gesture with his right arm.</p> + +<p>“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:</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“I’ve been hearing pretty tales on shore about +that ship-chandler fellow who snatched the job from you so +neatly, sir.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>I found myself defending Jacobus’s unusual methods.</p> + +<p>“He’s the brother of one of the wealthiest +merchants in the port.” The mate’s eyes fairly +snapped green sparks.</p> + +<p>“His grand brother hasn’t spoken to him for +eighteen or twenty years,” he declared triumphantly. +“So there!”</p> + +<p>“I know all about that,” I interrupted +loftily.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Is that one of the tales you have heard ashore?” +I asked.</p> + +<p>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—”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you’ve heard all this gossip in some +eminently respectable place?” I snapped at him in a most +sarcastic tone.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Rear most beautiful flowers,” he insisted with an +upward glance. “It’s no trouble +really.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“No, not yet.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“It will be expected of me! Why should it be +expected of me? Is it because I look particularly +soft—or what?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I think it would be worth your while to secure +some,” he added with a fat, melancholy smile and left the +cabin.</p> + +<p>Mr. Burns struck his fist on the table excitedly.</p> + +<p>“Did you ever see such impudence! He’s made +up his mind to get something out of you one way or another, +sir.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Jacobus</span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“I say,” I cried loudly, “there isn’t +a mistake, is there? This is Mr. Jacobus’s +office.”</p> + +<p>The boy gazed at me with a pained expression—and somehow +so familiar! A voice within growled offensively:</p> + +<p>“Come in, come in, since you are there. . . . I +didn’t know.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Sit down.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>I acknowledged the gracious invitation by saying +deliberately:</p> + +<p>“I can listen to all you may have to say without sitting +down.”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He followed me, growling behind my back:</p> + +<p>“The impudence! I’ve a good mind to write to +your owners what I think of you.”</p> + +<p>I turned on him for a moment:</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He stopped at the door of his office while I traversed the +littered anteroom. I think he was somewhat taken aback.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Beggarly—cheeky—skippers.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Dull hole, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>I understood this to allude to the town.</p> + +<p>“Do you find it so?” I murmured.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you? But I’m off to-morrow, +thank goodness.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I am not off to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Two other experts, one slow and nasal, the other shrill and +snappy, started checking an invoice.</p> + +<p>“A half-coil of three-inch manilla rope.”</p> + +<p>“Right!”</p> + +<p>“Six assorted shackles.”</p> + +<p>“Right!”</p> + +<p>“Six tins assorted soups, three of paté, two +asparagus, fourteen pounds tobacco, cabin.”</p> + +<p>“Right!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I am proposing you a bit of business, Captain. I +wouldn’t charge you a great price.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>He sighed and clasped his hands on his stomach with exemplary +resignation. I admired the placidity of his +impudence. Then waking up somewhat:</p> + +<p>“Won’t you try a cigar, Captain?”</p> + +<p>“No, thanks. I don’t smoke +cigars.”</p> + +<p>“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:</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“There’s only my girl there.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Ah! You’re talking about my respected +papa-in-law.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“You have your married daughter living with you, Mr. +Jacobus?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“She’s a very different sort of person.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He had an air of profound reflection, then remarked +quaintly:</p> + +<p>“He’s a man of regular habits.”</p> + +<p>He might have been alluding to the habit of late siesta; but I +mumbled something about “beastly habits +anyhow”—and left the store abruptly.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t do that,” he said, so earnestly that +I burst into a fit of laughter; but he looked at me without a +smile.</p> + +<p>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. . . .</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Oh! The Mrs. Doctor!” I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>I remarked that this surely was an old story by now.</p> + +<p>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. . . .</p> + +<p>“He spoke to me of a daughter who lives with him,” +I observed, very much interested.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>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. . . .</p> + +<p>“What! Here? To claim the child +perhaps,” I suggested.</p> + +<p>“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 <i>in +extremis</i> 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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>I thought suddenly (and with profound disgust) of the other +Jacobus, and I could not refrain from saying slily:</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He was not so stupid as to miss my intention, and shrugged his +shoulders impatiently.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Glad to see you, Captain. What? Going +away? You haven’t been looking so well these last few +days, I notice. Run down, eh?”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“I am rather in trouble with my loading.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Surely there must be eleven hundred quarter-bags to be +found in the colony. It’s only a matter of looking +for them.”</p> + +<p>Again that slight movement of the big head, and in the noise +and activity of the store that tranquil murmur:</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I am asking you to wait for me in my house till I am at +liberty to talk this matter over. You will?”</p> + +<p>“Why, of course!” I cried.</p> + +<p>“But I cannot promise—”</p> + +<p>“I dare say not,” I said. “I +don’t expect a promise.”</p> + +<p>“I mean I can’t even promise to try the move +I’ve in my mind. One must see first . . . +h’m!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What do you want here?”</p> + +<p>I turned to the girl. She was sitting straight up now, +her hands posed on the arms of the chair. I appealed to +her.</p> + +<p>“Surely, Miss Alice, you will not let them drive me out +into the street?”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“<i>C’est papa</i>.”</p> + +<p>I made another low bow to the old woman.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“What’s your father up to, now?”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“It’s some captain. Leave me +alone—will you!”</p> + +<p>The chair rocked quicker, the old, thin voice was like a +whistle.</p> + +<p>“You and your father make a pair. He would stick +at nothing—that’s well known. But I +didn’t expect this.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>The furious speed of her fingers and knitting-needles made one +dizzy; and with squeaky indignation:</p> + +<p>“Sitting here staring at that girl—is that what +you call business?”</p> + +<p>“No,” I said suavely. “I call this +pleasure—an unexpected pleasure. And unless Miss +Alice objects—”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Oh! Then I shall stare at you till you +smile.”</p> + +<p>She favoured me again with an even more viciously scornful +“Don’t care!”</p> + +<p>The old woman broke in blunt and shrill:</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you are the true child of your father! And +<i>that</i> talks of entering a convent! Letting herself be +stared at by a fellow.”</p> + +<p>“Leave off.”</p> + +<p>“Shameless thing!”</p> + +<p>“Old sorceress,” the girl uttered distinctly, +preserving her meditative pose, chin in hand, and a far-away +stare over the garden.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“My dear man,” she asked abruptly, “do you +expect any good to come of this?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Bags! Look at that now! Didn’t I hear +you holding forth to that graceless wretch?”</p> + +<p>“You would like to see me in my grave,” uttered +the motionless girl hoarsely.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I’ll haunt your house daily till you pull it +off. You’ll be always finding me here.”</p> + +<p>His faint, melancholy smile did not part his thick lips.</p> + +<p>“That will be all right, Captain.”</p> + +<p>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—.</p> + +<p>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.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> +<p>I <span class="smcap">kept</span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>I must say the girl treated her father exactly in the same way +she treated me.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“It’s fourteen hundred your ship wanted, did you +say, Captain?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes!” I replied eagerly; but he remained +calm. He looked more tired than I had ever seen him +before.</p> + +<p>“Well, Captain, you may go and tell your people that +they can get that lot from my brother.”</p> + +<p>As I remained open-mouthed at this, he added his usual placid +formula of assurance:</p> + +<p>“You’ll find it correct, Captain.”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Your father’s a brick, Miss Don’t +Care. That’s what he is.”</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>On that occasion, too, the girl refused to come to the +table.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t care.”</p> + +<p>I felt as if I could have done her some violence—shaken +her, beaten her maybe. I said:</p> + +<p>“Your absurd behaviour will prevent me coming here any +more.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that to me?”</p> + +<p>“You like it.”</p> + +<p>“It’s false,” she snarled.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Go back to them,” she whispered, almost +pitifully.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“But I dare say Miss Jacobus here is responsible for +most of this offensive manner,” I added loftily.</p> + +<p>She piped out at once in her brazen, ruffianly manner:</p> + +<p>“Eh? Why don’t you leave us in peace, my +good fellow?”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Haven’t you done your business, you two? +Well, then—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Well, and what do you say to that, Jacobus? Am I +to take it that we have done with each other?”</p> + +<p>I had to wait a little. The answer when it came was +rather unexpected, and in quite another spirit than the +question.</p> + +<p>“I certainly think we might do some business yet with +those potatoes of mine, Captain. You will find +that—”</p> + +<p>I cut him short.</p> + +<p>“I’ve told you before that I don’t +trade.”</p> + +<p>His broad chest heaved without a sound in a noiseless +sigh.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“That will be all right, I hope, Captain,” he +breathed out weightily.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” I asked, alarmed. +“That your brother might yet—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” he reassured me. “He . . . +he’s a man of his word, Captain.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You’re doing yourself no good by your choice of +friends, my dear chap,” he said with infantile gravity.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He had recovered his gravity of a respectable citizen by that +time and added regretfully:</p> + +<p>“All the women of our family are perfectly +scandalised.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>There was a good half of the length of the verandah between +their chairs. I came out and sat down fiercely midway +between them.</p> + +<p>“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:</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Why do you keep on coming here?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“No! But do you really care to know?”</p> + +<p>She shrugged indolently her magnificent shoulders, from which +the dingy thin wrapper was slipping a little.</p> + +<p>“Oh—never mind—never mind!”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Why? Don’t you think I should tell you the +truth?”</p> + +<p>Her eyes glided my way for a sidelong look, and she murmured, +moving only her full, pouting lips:</p> + +<p>“I think you would not dare.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>She snapped out viciously:</p> + +<p>“Who else am I to believe?</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>She made a slight movement and asked me at once, with an +effort as if making an experiment:</p> + +<p>“What is the business between you and papa?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know the nature of your father’s +business? Come! He sells provisions to +ships.”</p> + +<p>She became rigid again in her crouching pose.</p> + +<p>“Not that. What brings you here—to this +house?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter now?” I said, startled, +but in no very sympathetic mood.</p> + +<p>She shook her bowed, overweighted head and cried in a stifled +voice but with a rising inflection:</p> + +<p>“Go away! Go away! Go away!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What on earth are you gone wild about, Miss Don’t +Care?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What has come to you?” I asked in awe. +“What are you terrifying yourself with?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Upon my honour!” I cried. “You shall +end by going crazy if you listen to that abominable old aunt of +yours—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Heavens and earth! What do you think I can +do?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>Her chin certainly trembled. And she was looking at me +with extreme attention. I made a step nearer to her +chair.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“I would believe you. But what about +papa—”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>All this with supreme indifference, incredible, offensive, +exasperating, like ingratitude doubled with treachery.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Either</span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You are early home,” I remarked.</p> + +<p>“Things are very quiet; nothing doing at the store +to-day,” he explained with a cast-down air.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, you know, I am off,” I said, feeling +that this, perhaps, was the best thing to do.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he breathed out. “Day after +to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Sit down, Captain,” he said at last, in his +subdued tone.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“I am glad I found you here, Captain.”</p> + +<p>I answered this by some sort of grunt, watching him +covertly. Then I added: “You won’t have much +more of me now.”</p> + +<p>He was still deep in the interior of that shoe on which my +eyes too were resting.</p> + +<p>“Have you thought any more of this deal in potatoes I +spoke to you about the other day?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You ought to, Captain. You ought to.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“That will be all right,” he said, facing me +squarely at last.</p> + +<p>“Are you sure?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Then let us trade,” I said, turning my shoulder +to him. “I see you are bent on it.”</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Would it? The lot! I dare say it would be +convenient, but I haven’t got enough money for +that.”</p> + +<p>I had never seen him so animated.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“You could draw some more from your charterers. +That would be quite easy, Captain.”</p> + +<p>“No, I couldn’t,” I retorted +brusquely. “I’ve drawn my salary up to date, +and besides, the ship’s accounts are closed.”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“That will be all right, Captain. I will go at +once.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“And you, Captain? Won’t you come along, +too, just to see—”</p> + +<p>“Don’t bother about me. I’ll take care +of myself.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Alice!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>I rose and took a seat close to her, nearly opposite her +arm-chair. Her ever discontented voice addressed me at +once, contemptuously:</p> + +<p>“You are still here.”</p> + +<p>I pitched mine low.</p> + +<p>“You have come out at last.”</p> + +<p>“I came to look for my shoe—before they bring in +the lights.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Your father picked it up,” I said, thinking she +may just as well be told of the fact.</p> + +<p>“I am not afraid of papa—by himself,” she +declared scornfully.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“I am not afraid of you,” she snapped out.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>It was with unexpected modulated softness that the +affirmed:</p> + +<p>“No. I am not afraid.” She hesitated. +. . . “Not now.”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“I love nothing.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye, Alice,” I said.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You seem to enjoy getting wet, Pilot,” I +remarked.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I was thinking, Captain, that coming from the Pearl of +the Ocean you may have some potatoes to sell.”</p> + +<p>I said negligently: “Oh, yes, I could spare you a +ton. Fifteen pounds.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>I turned over the page and read on:</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>He dropped his knife and fork and looked at me with +indignation.</p> + +<p>“You have, sir! I thought you loved the +ship.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>He was really devoted to me, I believe. But he cheered +up when I told him that I had recommended him for my +successor.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mr. Burns,” I interrupted. +“Quite a smile of fortune.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“A wonderful piece of luck!” he said.</p> +<h2><a name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 99</span>THE +SECRET SHARER<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">AN EPISODE FROM THE COAST</span></h2> +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">On</span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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. . . .</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Are you aware that there is a ship anchored inside the +islands? I saw her mastheads above the ridge as the sun +went down.”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“That’s so,” confirmed the second mate, +suddenly, in his slightly hoarse voice. “She draws +over twenty feet. She’s the Liverpool ship +<i>Sephora</i> with a cargo of coal. Hundred and +twenty-three days from Cardiff.”</p> + +<p>We looked at him in surprise.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” I asked in my ordinary +tone, speaking down to the face upturned exactly under mine.</p> + +<p>“Cramp,” it answered, no louder. Then +slightly anxious, “I say, no need to call any +one.”</p> + +<p>“I was not going to,” I said.</p> + +<p>“Are you alone on deck?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“I suppose your captain’s turned in?”</p> + +<p>“I am sure he isn’t,” I said.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Look here, my man. Could you call him out +quietly?”</p> + +<p>I thought the time had come to declare myself.</p> + +<p>“<i>I</i> am the captain.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“My name’s Leggatt.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“You must be a good swimmer.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” I asked in a deadened voice, taking +the lighted lamp out of the binnacle, and raising it to his +face.</p> + +<p>“An ugly business.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” I said, replacing the lamp in the +binnacle. The warm, heavy tropical night closed upon his +head again.</p> + +<p>“There’s a ship over there,” he +murmured.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know. The <i>Sephora</i>. Did you +know of us?”</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t the slightest idea. I am the mate of +her—” He paused and corrected himself. +“I should say I <i>was</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Aha! Something wrong?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Very wrong indeed. I’ve killed a +man.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean? Just now?”</p> + +<p>“No, on the passage. Weeks ago. Thirty-nine +south. When I say a man—”</p> + +<p>“Fit of temper,” I suggested, confidently.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“A pretty thing to have to own up to for a Conway +boy,” murmured my double, distinctly.</p> + +<p>“You’re a Conway boy?”</p> + +<p>“I am,” he said, as if startled. Then, +slowly . . . “Perhaps you too—”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“‘Mr. Leggatt, you have killed a man. You +can act no longer as chief mate of this ship.’”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Not much sign of any wind yet,” I remarked when +he approached.</p> + +<p>“No, sir. Not much,” he assented, sleepily, +in his hoarse voice, with just enough deference, no more, and +barely suppressing a yawn.</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s all you have to look out for. +You have got your orders.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I heard somebody moving about, and went in there at +once,” he whispered.</p> + +<p>I, too, spoke under my breath.</p> + +<p>“Nobody is likely to come in here without knocking and +getting permission.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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 <i>Sephora</i> once the bad weather was +over.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I can believe it,” I breathed out.</p> + +<p>“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 <i>Sephora</i>, 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 <i>you</i> +can,’ cries he, and locks the door.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you hail the ship?” I asked, a +little louder.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“He couldn’t hear us talking—could +he?” My double breathed into my very ear, +anxiously.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Who’s that?” he whispered then.</p> + +<p>“My second mate. But I don’t know much more +of the fellow than you do.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>He had turned about meantime; and we, the two strangers in the +ship, faced each other in identical attitudes.</p> + +<p>“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 +<i>Sephora</i>. 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.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think they will be round here presently?” +I asked with some incredulity.</p> + +<p>“Quite likely,” he said, faintly.</p> + +<p>He looked extremely haggard all of a sudden. His head +rolled on his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“H’m. We shall see then. Meantime get +into that bed,” I whispered. “Want help? +There.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What do you want here?”</p> + +<p>“Close your port, sir—they are washing +decks.”</p> + +<p>“It is closed,” I said, reddening.</p> + +<p>“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:</p> + +<p>“May I come in to take the empty cup away, +sir?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“I must show myself on deck,” I reflected.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Square the yards by lifts and braces before the hands +go to breakfast.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“All’s well so far,” I whispered. +“Now you must vanish into the bath-room.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Beg pardon, sir.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“All right. Get the ladder over.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> skipper of the <i>Sephora</i> +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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What was that for—fun?” I asked, with an +appearance of polite interest.</p> + +<p>“No!” He sighed. “Painful +duty.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“What would you think of such a thing happening on board +your own ship? I’ve had the <i>Sephora</i> for these +fifteen years. I am a well-known shipmaster.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>I was hardly listening to him.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“That reefed foresail saved you,” I threw in.</p> + +<p>“Under God—it did,” he exclaimed +fervently. “It was by a special mercy, I firmly +believe, that it stood some of those hurricane +squalls.”</p> + +<p>“It was the setting of that sail which—” I +began.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“You were very anxious to give up your mate to the shore +people, I believe?”</p> + +<p>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 <i>Sephora</i>, seemed to have laid him under some +pitiless obligation.</p> + +<p>“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 <i>Sephora</i>.”</p> + +<p>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 +<i>Sephora</i>. I had no doubt of it in my mind.</p> + +<p>“Not at all the style of man. You +understand,” he insisted, superfluously, looking hard at +me.</p> + +<p>I smiled urbanely. He seemed at a loss for a while.</p> + +<p>“I suppose I must report a suicide.”</p> + +<p>“Beg pardon?”</p> + +<p>“Suicide! That’s what I’ll have to +write to my owners directly I get in.”</p> + +<p>“Unless you manage to recover him before +to-morrow,” I assented, dispassionately. . . “I mean, +alive.”</p> + +<p>He mumbled something which I really did not catch, and I +turned my ear to him in a puzzled manner. He fairly +bawled:</p> + +<p>“The land—I say, the mainland is at least seven +miles off my anchorage.”</p> + +<p>“About that.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>However that might have been, the silence was not very +prolonged. He took another oblique step.</p> + +<p>“I reckon I had no more than a two-mile pull to your +ship. Not a bit more.”</p> + +<p>“And quite enough, too, in this awful heat,” I +said.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>He followed me in and gazed around. My intelligent +double had vanished. I played my part.</p> + +<p>“Very convenient—isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>The man of whiskers gave a blast on the whistle which he used +to wear hanging round his neck, and yelled, +“<i>Sephoras</i> 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:</p> + +<p>“I say . . . you . . . you don’t think +that—”</p> + +<p>I covered his voice loudly:</p> + +<p>“Certainly not. . . . I am delighted. +Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I had a story from the captain.”</p> + +<p>“A very horrible affair—isn’t it, +sir?”</p> + +<p>“It is.”</p> + +<p>“Beats all these tales we hear about murders in Yankee +ships.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think it beats them. I don’t +think it resembles them in the least.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Preposterous—isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose anything.”</p> + +<p>“You have no doubt in the matter, sir?”</p> + +<p>“None whatever.”</p> + +<p>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. . . .</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>“Did you hear everything?” were my first words as +soon as we took up our position side by side, leaning over my +bed-place.</p> + +<p>He had. And the proof of it was his earnest whisper, +“The man told you he hardly dared to give the +order.”</p> + +<p>I understood the reference to be to that saving foresail.</p> + +<p>“Yes. He was afraid of it being lost in the +setting.”</p> + +<p>“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? <i>You</i> 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—”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Turn the hands up,” I cried through the +door. “I’ll be on deck directly.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What on earth’s the matter with you?” I +asked, astonished.</p> + +<p>He was extremely confused. “Beg your pardon, +sir. I made sure you were in your cabin.”</p> + +<p>“You see I wasn’t.”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. I could have sworn I had heard you +moving in there not a moment ago. It’s most +extraordinary . . . very sorry, sir.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Where are you going with that coat?”</p> + +<p>“To your room, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Is there another shower coming?”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I don’t know, sir. Shall I +go up again and see, sir?”</p> + +<p>“No! never mind.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Saved,” I thought. “But, no! +Lost! Gone! He was gone!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You did look middling bad a little while ago,” +the chief mate remarked without showing any great concern.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Steward!”</p> + +<p>“Sir!” Startled as usual.</p> + +<p>“Where did you hang up that coat?”</p> + +<p>“In the bath-room, sir.” The usual anxious +tone. “It’s not quite dry yet, sir.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“It would never do for me to come to life +again.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You must maroon me as soon as ever you can get amongst +these islands off the Cambodje shore,” he went on.</p> + +<p>“Maroon you! We are not living in a boy’s +adventure tale,” I protested. His scornful whispering +took me up.</p> + +<p>“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 <i>what</i> 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.”</p> + +<p>“Impossible!” I murmured. “You +can’t.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you properly awake yet?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir! I am awake.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“I am going to stand right in. Quite in—as +far as I can take her.”</p> + +<p>The stare of extreme surprise imparted an air of ferocity also +to his eyes, and he looked truly terrific for a moment.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Bless my soul! Do you mean, sir, in the dark +amongst the lot of all them islands and reefs and +shoals?”</p> + +<p>“Well—if there are any regular land breezes at all +on this coast one must get close inshore to find them, +mustn’t one?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Anything. Koh-ring let it be.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Send a couple of hands to open the two quarterdeck +ports,” I said, mildly.</p> + +<p>He actually had the impudence, or else so forgot himself in +his wonder at such an incomprehensible order, as to repeat:</p> + +<p>“Open the quarter-deck ports! What for, +sir?”</p> + +<p>“The only reason you need concern yourself about is +because I tell you to do so. Have them open wide and +fastened properly.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>I developed my plan in a hurried whisper.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He kept silent for a while, then whispered, “I +understand.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t be there to see you go,” I began +with an effort. “The rest . . . I only hope I have +understood, too.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Quite dark enough,” I whispered.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“We are drawing in pretty fast, sir. Land looks +rather close.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” I answered. “I am coming +on deck directly.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Take it,” I urged him, whispering +desperately. “No one can tell what—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>He looked round anxiously. “Sir!”</p> + +<p>“Can you get me a little hot water from the +galley?”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid, sir, the galley fire’s been out for +some time now.”</p> + +<p>“Go and see.”</p> + +<p>He fled up the stairs.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>I was standing quietly by the pantry door when the steward +returned.</p> + +<p>“Sorry, sir. Kettle barely warm. Shall I +light the spirit-lamp?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>I took no notice of him and raised my tone just enough to be +heard by the helmsman.</p> + +<p>“Keep her good full.”</p> + +<p>“Good full, sir.”</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Are you going on, sir,” inquired an unsteady +voice at my elbow.</p> + +<p>I ignored it. I had to go on.</p> + +<p>“Keep her full. Don’t check her way. +That won’t do now,” I said, warningly.</p> + +<p>“I can’t see the sails very well,” the +helmsman answered me, in strange, quavering tones.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>My tone had a borrowed loudness reverberated from the height +of the land. Several voices cried out together: “We +are all on deck, sir.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“My God! Where are we?”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>“Be quiet,” I said, sternly.</p> + +<p>He lowered his tone, but I saw the shadowy gesture of his +despair. “What are we doing here?”</p> + +<p>“Looking for the land wind.”</p> + +<p>He made as if to tear his hair, and addressed me +recklessly.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>I caught his arm as he was raising it to batter his poor +devoted head, and shook it violently.</p> + +<p>“She’s ashore already,” he wailed, trying to +tear himself away.</p> + +<p>“Is she? . . . Keep good full there!”</p> + +<p>“Good full, sir,” cried the helmsman in a +frightened, thin, child-like voice.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 . . .?</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Shift the helm,” I said in a low voice to the +seaman standing still like a statue.</p> + +<p>The man’s eyes glistened wildly in the binnacle light as +he jumped round to the other side and spun round the wheel.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Let go and haul.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> +<h2><a name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +161</span>FREYA OF THE SEVEN ISLES<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A STORY OF SHALLOW WATERS</span></h2> +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">One</span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Bonito</i> (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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t he a fool?” I said with feeling.</p> + +<p>“Perfect idiot,” she agreed warmly, looking at me +straight with her wide-open, earnest eyes and the dimple of a +smile on her cheek.</p> + +<p>“And that,” I pointed out to her, “just to +save twenty minutes or so in meeting you.”</p> + +<p>We heard the anchor go down, and then she became very resolute +and threatening.</p> + +<p>“Wait a bit. I’ll teach him.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Where’s Freya? Wasn’t she here just +now?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Bonito</i>. 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 <i>Bonito</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“What the devil he wants to turn up here for!”</p> + +<p>Clearly he had not heard a word of the anecdote. And +this annoyed me, because the anecdote was really good. I +stared at him.</p> + +<p>“Come, come!” I cried. “Don’t +you know what Jasper Allen is turning up here for?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>caballero</i> would care to +push on inquiries after such a statement.</p> + +<p>Indeed, Jasper was quite the <i>caballero</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“I hope Heemskirk won’t turn up here while the +brig’s about.”</p> + +<p>Getting up a scare about Heemskirk now! Heemskirk! . . . +Really, one hadn’t the patience—</p> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">For</span>, 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Neptun</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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. . +. .</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“All I want is to live in peace and quietness with the +Dutch authorities,” he mumbled shamefacedly.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Upon my word you are wonderful.”</p> + +<p>She let it pass with a faint smile.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“He would squash Heemskirk like a blackbeetle all the +same,” I remarked.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>Nelson’s Cove—as we used to call it—was +crowded with shipping that day. There was first my steamer, +then the <i>Neptun</i> gunboat further out, and the +<i>Bonito</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>Neptun</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> +<p>A <span class="smcap">few</span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>He shook his head at me triumphantly.</p> + +<p>“Well, my dear boy,” he said, “I shall be +counting the days now.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Yes. I’ll soon begin to count the +days,” he repeated. “Eleven months more. +I’ll have to crowd three trips into that.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“I suppose,” I said, after he had finished +laughing at my innocent enough remark, “I suppose you will +be off to-day.”</p> + +<p>That was what he meant to do. He had not gone at +daylight only because he expected me to come in.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He so evidently expected me to scold that I took especial +pleasure in exaggerating the calmness of my attitude.</p> + +<p>“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 +<i>Bohemian Girl</i> schooner. Robinson’s story is +too ingenious altogether. That other tale of the engineers +of the <i>Nan-Shan</i> 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.”</p> + +<p>I enjoyed Jasper’s incredulous surprise.</p> + +<p>“The devil he will!” he cried. “What +on earth for? Aren’t you trying to pull my leg, old +boy?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Ah, well,” reflected Jasper. “The +<i>Bonito</i> isn’t trading to any ports of +civilisation. That’ll make it easier for him to keep +straight.”</p> + +<p>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—”</p> + +<p>“A good seaman you say,” ejaculated Jasper, still +in the matter of the hopeless Schultz with the wonderfully +touching voice.</p> + +<p>“First rate. Ask any one. Quite worth +having—only impossible,” I declared.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>But as we are going ashore in his gig he asked suddenly: +“By the way, do you know where Heemskirk is?”</p> + +<p>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 <i>Neptun</i> was on duty down +about Flores and Sumbawa. Quite out of his way. He +expressed his satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t quarrel with the beggar,” I +observed casually, yet disliking that piece of news +strongly. “It isn’t worth while.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Do get aboard as soon as you can, Miss Freya,” I +entreated.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“The very next day.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What a nuisance he must have been to you two,” I +said feelingly.</p> + +<p>Her eyes flashed at me a sort of frightened merriment, and +suddenly she exploded into a clear burst of laughter. +“Ha, ha, ha!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“He looks,” I spluttered, “he +looks—Ha, ha, ha!—amongst you three . . . like an +unhappy black-beetle. Ha, ha, ha!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What’s the joke?” asked old Nelson’s +voice, half way down the steps.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Oh, yes. Freya had started it. The girl’s +overwrought, I thought. And really one couldn’t +wonder at it.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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 <i>Neptun</i>. 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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>She hesitated, muffled from head to foot, shadowy and +bashful. I advanced another pace, and how I felt is +nobody’s business.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” I asked, very low.</p> + +<p>“Nobody knows I am here,” she whispered.</p> + +<p>“And nobody can see us,” I whispered back.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Antonia!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You haven’t heard for ages,” I repeated, +with secret annoyance. “May I ask what ‘for +ages’ means in this connection?”</p> + +<p>“It means that I don’t care whether I ever hear +from him or not,” retorted the little man of law, turning +nasty suddenly.</p> + +<p>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.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> +<p>I <span class="smcap">suppose</span> 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?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>He watched Heemskirk land and, instead of going to the house, +stride away by another path into the grounds.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Much you know about it,” he grunted +nevertheless.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Bonito</i> 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.</p> + +<p>“If you try to make a noise I’ll twist your +neck!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Freya struggled a little and threw her head back.</p> + +<p>“Somebody has come in,” she whispered. +Jasper, holding her clasped closely to his breast, and looking +down into her face, suggested casually:</p> + +<p>“Your father.”</p> + +<p>Freya tried to disengage herself, but she had not the heart +absolutely to push him away with her hands.</p> + +<p>“I believe it’s Heemskirk,” she breathed out +at him.</p> + +<p>He, plunging into her eyes in a quiet rapture, was provoked to +a vague smile by the sound of the name.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Don’t stay late this evening,” was her last +recommendation before she left him.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>It irritated Freya.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“I have seen your father already. We had a talk in +the sheds. He told me some very interesting things. +Oh, very—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You are coming now from Palembang, I +suppose?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>Heemskirk growled angrily.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I will have to leave you to yourself, Mr. Heemskirk, +for a while,” she said.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“He jumped on me out of the bush like a tiger,” +said the girl, laughing nervously with frightened eyes.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Psst,” she hissed. He was by her side in a +moment.</p> + +<p>“Yes. What is it?” he murmured.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“What has he been doing?” asked Jasper in a calm +undertone.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing! Nothing. He sits there looking +cross. But you know how he’s always worrying +papa.”</p> + +<p>“Your father’s quite unreasonable,” +pronounced Jasper judicially.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“He ought to be reported for loitering,” murmured +Jasper with a vexed little laugh.</p> + +<p>“Mind you get under way at daylight,” recommended +Freya under her breath.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>He murmured an endearing word, and she continued:</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“I mean Antonia. You have bruised her arm. +What did you do it for?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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 . . .?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“I’m not bad fun, really. You try a few +kisses to begin with—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked old Nelson, very +much bewildered.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What is it? What is it?” insisted the +unsuspecting Nelson, getting quite excited. “Only +this minute you were playing a tune, and—”</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes!” exclaimed old Nelson. “I +see. What on earth—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Oh, oh, oh!” he howled, stamping across the +verandah as though he meant to drive his foot through the floor +at every step.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Hurry up that brandy!” old Nelson shouted, as she +disappeared in the passage.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Go into my room, lieutenant,” he suggested +urgently. “Throw yourself on my bed. We will +get something to ease you in a minute.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Freya, her glorious fair hair framing her white face and +rippling down a dark-blue dressing-gown, opened it partly.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“He certainly seemed to have gone mad,” Freya said +with an effort, as if she were struggling with some hidden +feeling.</p> + +<p>But her father was launched.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Flushed! A little flushed!” she repeated to +herself. “I hope so, indeed! A +little—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I have avenged you, my girl,” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“I! Run away!” thought Freya to herself, +without looking down at the scared girl. +“Never.”</p> + +<p>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 . . .</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You are there,” she thought, levelling the long +glass. “Oh, well, look on, then!”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“You are looking on—you will—you must! +Then you shall see something.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>And each time she murmured with a rising inflexion:</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What on earth? . . . Freya!” His voice was +nearly drowned by the piano. “What’s become of +the lieutenant?” he shouted.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him as if her soul were lost in her music, +with unseeing eyes.</p> + +<p>“Gone.”</p> + +<p>“Wha-a-t? . . . Where?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Must you?” murmured Freya listlessly; then added, +in her thought: “Poor man!”</p> +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> 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 +<i>Neptun</i> 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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>Next, it must be recorded that the same day the gunboat +<i>Neptun</i>, steering east, passed the brig <i>Bonito</i> +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 +<i>Neptun</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Neptun</i>, +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 <i>Neptun</i> 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.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">. . . . .</p> + +<p>The trading brig <i>Bonito</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Here she shall stand, by my side, on evenings like +this,” he thought, with rapture.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Neptun</i>, detaching herself from the dark +coast under which she had been lying invisible, steamed out to +intercept the trading brig <i>Bonito</i> standing out to sea.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Neptun</i>.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” Jasper asked.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“You are ill,” said Jasper positively.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“That fellow means harm!” he said +desperately. “He means harm to you, Captain +Allen. I feel it, and I—”</p> + +<p>He choked with inexplicable emotion.</p> + +<p>“All right, Schultz. I won’t give him an +opening.” Jasper cut him short and swung himself into +the boat.</p> + +<p>On board the <i>Neptun</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What’s going on in that river you’ve just +come out of?” asked the lieutenant straight away.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Meddling! English meddling! And suppose the +rascals don’t deserve anything better than to starve, +eh?”</p> + +<p>“There are women and children there, you know,” +observed Jasper, in his even tone.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Am I, then, to conclude that the brig is +detained?”</p> + +<p>Heemskirk made a recovery in a flush of malignant +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“She is. I am going to take her to Makassar in +tow.”</p> + +<p>“The courts will have to decide on the legality of +this,” said Jasper, aware that the matter was becoming +serious, but with assumed indifference.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, the courts! Certainly. And as to +you, I shall keep you on board here.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Get ready to receive a tow-rope from the gunboat! +We are going to be taken to Makassar.”</p> + +<p>“Good God! What’s that for, sir?” came +an anxious cry faintly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“You will board the brig with a boat’s +crew!”</p> + +<p>“Ya, mynherr!”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Ya, mynherr.”</p> + +<p>“You will remain on deck and in charge all the +time.”</p> + +<p>“Ya, mynherr.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“What weapons have you on board?”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“Eighteen rifles with their bayonets, which were on +board when I bought her, four years ago. They have been +declared.”</p> + +<p>“Where are they kept?”</p> + +<p>“Fore-cabin. Mate has the key.”</p> + +<p>“You will take possession of them,” said Heemskirk +to the gunner.</p> + +<p>“Ya, mynherr.”</p> + +<p>“What is this for? What do you mean to +imply?” cried out Jasper; then bit his lip. +“It’s monstrous!” he muttered.</p> + +<p>Heemskirk raised for a moment a heavy, as if suffering, +glance.</p> + +<p>“You may go,” he said to his gunner. The fat +man saluted, and departed.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Neptun</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“He was feeling not very well when I left,” he +explained.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Oh, ya! The mate. Ya, ya! He is very +well. But, mein Gott, he is one very funny man!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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 <i>Neptun</i> +was towing at great speed, as if for a wager. The Dutch +gunner appeared on the forecastle of the <i>Bonito</i>, and with +him a couple of men. They stood looking at the coast, and +Jasper lost himself in a loverlike trance.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You will be on Tamissa reef!” he yelled.</p> + +<p>High up on the bridge Heemskirk looked back over his shoulder +heavily; two seamen were spinning the wheel round, and the +<i>Neptun</i> 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 +<i>Neptun</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>“Hold him!” yelled a voice from the bridge.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Neptun’s</i> seamen, who had flung +themselves upon him obediently. “Hold—I would +not have that fellow drown himself for anything now!”</p> + +<p>Jasper ceased struggling.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Neptun</i> +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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Jasper looked up. His eyes, without any other +expression but bewilderment, met those of Heemskirk, observant +and sombre.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> affair of the brig +<i>Bonito</i> 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?</p> + +<p>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 <i>Neptun</i>—Heemskirk was towing him in to test a +case, and by some strange accident—</p> + +<p>Later on the name came out. “The +<i>Bonito</i>—what! Impossible! Yes—yes, +the <i>Bonito</i>. 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.”</p> + +<p>A young man entered smartly Messrs. Mesman Brothers’ +office on the “front,” bubbling with some further +information.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; that’s the <i>Bonito</i> 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 +<i>Bonito</i>. 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 <i>Bonito</i> stuck up there as a +warning to others.”</p> + +<p>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 <i>Bonito</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>It was that knowledge which had brought trouble to his face at +the first news of the wreck. He took up his hat.</p> + +<p>“Where are you going, Mr. Mesman?”</p> + +<p>“I am going to look for Allen. I think he must be +ashore. Does anybody know?”</p> + +<p>No one of those present knew. And Mr. Mesman went out on +the “front” to make inquiries.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“That was Allen right enough! But where is his +brig?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The talk on the “front” and Jasper’s +appearance in the Orange House stand at the beginning of the +famous <i>Bonito</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>Bonito</i> 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.</p> + +<p>All this the gunner reported at once to his commanding +officer.</p> + +<p>What Heemskirk intended by taking upon himself to detain the +<i>Bonito</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.’</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>Bonito</i> 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. . . .</p> + +<p>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—”</p> + +<p>Remember old Nelson! Rather!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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? . . .</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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 <i>Bonito</i> 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.”</p> + +<p>He blinked at me for quite a long time, his eyes running full +of tears again.</p> + +<p>“Next day,” he began, without any emotion in his +voice, “she felt stronger, and we had a long talk. +She told me everything.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“‘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.”</p> + +<p>He paused.</p> + +<p>“You did see him?” I murmured.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’”</p> + +<p>Old Nelson paused. I sat fascinated, and feeling a +little cold in that room with a blazing fire.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>I shuddered. He looked up vaguely, with a childish, +puzzled moodiness.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“Man!” I cried, rising upon him wrathfully, +“don’t you see that she died of it?”</p> + +<p>He got up too. “No! no!” he stammered, as if +angry. “The doctors! Pneumonia. Low +state. The inflammation of the . . . They told me. +Pneu—”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“And I thought that she was so sensible!”</p> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ’TWIXT LAND & SEA ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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