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diff --git a/44632-h/44632-h.htm b/44632-h/44632-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a269b3d --- /dev/null +++ b/44632-h/44632-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10947 @@ + + +<!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 Hell's Hatches, by Lewis R. Freeman. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + +h1 { + margin-top: 7%; + text-indent: 0%; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +h2 { + margin-top: 4%; + text-indent: 0%; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +small {font-size: small;} + +/* paragraphs */ + +p { + margin-top: 3%; + margin-bottom: 3%; + text-align: justify; +} /* general paragraph */ + +p.cnobmargin { + text-align: center; + margin-bottom: .0%; +} /* centered no bottom margin */ + +p.cnotmargin { + text-align: center; + margin-top: .0%; +} /* centered no top margin */ + +p.indent { + text-indent: 4%; +} /* indented paragraph */ + +/* horizontal rules */ + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 8%; + margin-bottom: 8%; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +.hr2 +{ + width: 90%; + max-width: 90%; + color: #CCCCCC; + background-color: #FFFFFF; + border: none; + border-bottom: 6px double black; + margin: 8% auto; +} /* horizontal rule for chapter divisions */ + +/* tables */ + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.center { + text-indent: 0%; + text-align: center; +} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +/* Links attributes */ + +a:link { color:#000000; text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 1px dashed #808080;} + +a:visited { color:#25383C; text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 1px dashed #808080;} + +a:hover { color:#008000; text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 1px dashed #808080;} + +a:active { color:#000000; text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 1px dashed #808080;} + +ins {text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 1px dashed #dcdcdc;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + padding: 6px; +} /* without border */ + +.image-center +{ + text-align: center; + margin: 1em auto; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 4% 0% 4% 0%;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0%; + padding-left: 12%; + text-indent: -12%; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 8%; + padding-left: 12%; + text-indent: -12%; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 16%; + padding-left: 12%; + text-indent: -12%; +} + +/* Other */ + +span.ralign { + position: absolute; + right: 10%; + top: auto; +} + +div.tnote { + background-color: #FFFFFF; + border-style: dotted; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + padding: 1%; + font-style: normal; + font-size: 90%; + text-align: justify; +} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44632 ***</div> + +<h1>HELL'S HATCHES</h1> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="center">NEW FICTION</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">THE CURTAIN</span><br /> +<span class="i4"><i>By Alexander Macfarlan</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="i0">THE SYRENS</span><br /> +<span class="i4"><i>By Dot Allan</i></span> +<br /> +<span class="i0">OLD MAN'S YOUTH</span><br /> +<span class="i4"><i>By William de Morgan</i></span> +<br /> +<span class="i0">THE PURPLE HEIGHTS</span><br /> +<span class="i4"><i>By M. C. Oemler</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="i0">HAGAR'S HOARD</span><br /> +<span class="i4"><i>By George Kibbe Turner</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="i0">THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK</span><br /> +<span class="i4"><i>By Richard Dehan</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="i0">IN CHANCERY</span><br /> +<span class="i4"><i>By John Galsworthy</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="i0">SNOW OVER ELDEN</span><br /> +<span class="i4"><i>By Thomas Moult</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="i0">EUDOCIA</span><br /> +<span class="i4"><i>By Eden Phillpotts</i></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="cnobmargin">LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN</p> +<p class="cnotmargin">21, Bedford Street, W.C. 2</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<div class="image-center"> +<img src="images/illo_003.jpg" width="423" height="700" +alt="HELL'S HATCHES + +BY +LEWIS R. FREEMAN +Author of "In the Tracks of the Trades," etc. + +[Illustration: 1921] + +LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN" +title="HELL'S HATCHES + +BY +LEWIS R. FREEMAN +Author of "In the Tracks of the Trades," etc. + +[Illustration: 1921] + +LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN"/> +</div> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="center">CONTENTS</p> + +<p>CHAPTER <span class="ralign">PAGE</span></p> + +<p>I <span class="smcap">A Reputation Questioned</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page1">1</a></span></p> + +<p>II <span class="smcap">Hard-Bit Derelicts</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page10">10</a></span></p> + +<p>III <span class="smcap">The Girl Herself</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page25">25</a></span></p> + +<p>IV <span class="smcap">"Slant" Allen Retires Again</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page38">38</a></span></p> + +<p>V <span class="smcap">A Ship of Death</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page50">50</a></span></p> + +<p>VI <span class="smcap">Compulsory Volunteering</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page65">65</a></span></p> + +<p>VII <span class="smcap">Rona Comes Aboard</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page80">80</a></span></p> + +<p>VIII <span class="smcap">I Leave the Island</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page93">93</a></span></p> + +<p>IX <span class="smcap">A Grim Tale of the Sea</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page106">106</a></span></p> + +<p>X <span class="smcap">Art and Suspense</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page124">124</a></span></p> + +<p>XI <span class="smcap">A Hero's Homecoming</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page142">142</a></span></p> + +<p>XII <span class="smcap">A Bad Man's Plea</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page180">180</a></span></p> + +<p>XIII <span class="smcap">The Scene of the Final Drama</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page193">193</a></span></p> + +<p>XIV <span class="smcap">Hell's Hatches Off</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page206">206</a></span></p> + +<p>XV <span class="smcap">The Face</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page220">220</a></span></p> + +<p>XVI <span class="smcap">A Sudden Visitor</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page231">231</a></span></p> + +<p>XVII <span class="smcap">Down the Flume</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page255">255</a></span></p> + +<p>XVIII <span class="smcap">The Masterpiece</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page268">268</a></span></p> + +<p>XIX <span class="smcap">After All</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page282">282</a></span></p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page1" id="page1"></a>[pg 1]</span></p> + +<h1>HELL'S HATCHES</h1> + +<h2>CHAPTER I<br /> +<small>A REPUTATION QUESTIONED</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">"Slant" Allen</span> and I, between us, had been +monopolizing a good share of the feature space +in the Queensland and New South Wales papers +for a week or more—he as "the Hero-Ticket-of-Leave-Man" +and I as "the gifted Franco-American painter +whose brilliant South Sea marines have taken the Australian +art world by storm"—and now that it was definitely +reported that he had left Brisbane on his way +to connect with the reception the boyhood home from +which he had been shipped in disgrace five years before +had prepared for him, I knew it was but a matter of +hours before he would be doing me the honour of a call.</p> + +<p class="indent">He simply <i>had</i> to see me, I figured; that was all there +was to it: for with Bell and the girl dead (that much +seemed certain, both from the newspaper accounts of +the affair and from what I had been able to pick up +in the few minutes I had been ashore during the stop +of my southbound packet at Townsville) I was the only +living person who knew <i>he</i> was not the hero of the +astonishing <i>Cora Andrews</i> affair, the audacious daring +and almost sublime courage characterizing which had +touched the imagination of the whole world; that, far +from having <i>volunteered</i> to navigate a shipload of +plague-stricken blacks through some hundreds of miles +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page2" id="page2"></a>[pg 2]</span> +of the worst reef-beset—and likewise the most ill-charted—waters +of the Seven Seas on the off chance of saving +the lives of perhaps one in ten of them, he had been +brought off and forced to mount the gangway of that +ill-fated schooner at the point of a knife in the hands +of a slender slip of a Kanaka girl.</p> + +<p class="indent">To be sure, two or three of the blacks who were hanging +over the rail at the end of that accursed afternoon +may have been among the survivors (for it could have +been only the strongest of them that had been able to +fight their way up to the air when Bell chopped open +the hatches they had been battened under ever since the +<i>Cora's</i> officers had succumbed who knows how many +hours before); but, even so, their rolling, bloodshot eyes +could have fixed on nothing to have led them to believe +that the greasy shawl of Chinese embroidery the girl +appeared to have thrown affectionately over the shoulder +of the belated passenger in the leaking outrigger concealed +the diminutive Malay <i>kris</i> whose point she was +pressing into the fleshy part of his neck above the +jugular.</p> + +<p class="indent">No, there could be no doubt that I was all that stood +between "Slant" Allen, "Ticket-of-Leavester," beachcomber, +black-birder, pearl-pirate and (more or less incidentally +to all of the foregoing) murderer, and the +Hon. Hartley Allen, second son of the late James Allen, +Bart., racing man, polo player and once the greatest +gentleman jockey on the Australian turf. Pardon for +the comparative peccadilloes—a "pulled" horse or two, +a money fraud in connection with a "sweep," and the +rather rough treatment of a chorus girl, who had foolishly +asked for "time to consider" his proposal that she come +to him <i>at once</i> from the Queensland stockman who was +only just finishing refurnishing her George Street flat—which, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" id="page3"></a>[pg 3]</span> +cumulatively, had been responsible for his being +packed off to "The Islands," was already assured, and +it looked as though more was to come—that his "spectacular +and self-sacrificing heroism" was going to wipe +out the unpleasant memories that had barred him from +sporting and social circles even before the law stepped +in. A sporting writer in that morning's <i>Herald</i> had +speculated as to whether or not he would be seen again +riding "Number 1" for the unbeaten "Boomerang" +Four, with whom he had qualified for his handicap of +"8," still standing as the highest ever given an Australian +polo player; and the racing column of the latest +<i>Bulletin</i> had devoted a good part of its restricted space +to a discussion of the possibility that the weight he had +put on in his years of "easy life in 'The Islands'" +might force him to confine his riding to steeplechases. +Of the record which had made the name of "Slant" +Allen a byword for all that was desperate and devilish +from Port Moresby to Papeete, from Yap to Suva, little +seemed to be known and nothing at all was said. But +then, that old beach-combers' maxim to the effect that +"What a man does in 'The Islands' don't figure in St. +Peter's 'dope sheet,'" was one from which even I myself +had been wont to extract no little solace.</p> + +<p class="indent">With nothing but my fever-wracked and absinthe-soaked +(I may as well confess at the outset that I was +"in the grip of the green" at this time) anatomy standing +between, on the one hand, and Allen more despicable +than even I, who was fairly familiar with the lurid +swath he had cut across Polynesia, had ever dreamed +he could be, and, on the other hand, an Allen who might +easily become more the idol of sporting (which is, of +course, the real) Australia than he had ever been at +the zenith of his meteoric career as a turfman and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" id="page4"></a>[pg 4]</span> +athlete, it was plain enough that he would not—nay, +could not—ignore for long my presence in a city that +was standing on tiptoe to acclaim him as a native son +whose deed had done it honour in the eyes of the world. +It was something like that the <i>Telegraph</i> had it, I +believe.</p> + +<p class="indent">Where a word from me (and Allen would know that +my friendship for Bell, to say nothing of the girl, would +impel me to speak it in my own good time) would dash +him from the heights to depths which even he had not +yet sounded—there were degrees of treachery which +"The Islands" themselves would not stand for—it was +only to be expected that a man of his stamp would make +some well-thought-out move calculated to impose both +immediate and eventual silence upon me. If we were +still "north of twenty-two" I would have had no doubt +what form that "move" would take, and even here in +the heart of the Antipodean metropolis—well, that I was +leaving no unnecessary loop-holes of attack open was +attested by the fact that I was awaiting his coming wearing +a roomy old shooting jacket, in the wide pockets of +which a man's fingers could work both freely and unobtrusively. +I had shot away a good half-dozen patch +pockets from that old jacket in practising "unostentatious +self-defence," and when a man gets to a point +where he can spatter a sea-slug at five paces from his +hip he really hasn't a great deal to fear from the frontal +attack of anyone—or anything—that hunts by daylight.</p> + +<p class="indent">Yes, though I hardly expected to have to shoot Allen, +at least on this first showdown, I was quite prepared to +do so if he gave me any excuse at all for it; indeed, I +may as well admit that I was going to be disappointed +if he did not furnish me such an excuse. There need +be nothing on my conscience, that was sure, for, if the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" id="page5"></a>[pg 5]</span> +fellow had had his deserts according to civilized law, +he would have been put out of the way something like +twenty times already. I had heard him make that boast +himself one night in Kai, just before he went under +Jackson's table as a consequence of trying to toss off +three-fingers of "Three Star" for every man he claimed +to have killed. Moreover, I had a sort of a feeling that +old Bell would have liked to have seen his score evened +up that way, for he, more than almost anyone I could +recall, had marvelled at what he called the tricks I had +tucked away in my "starboard trigger pocket." But—I +may as well own it—my principal reason for hoping +for a decisive showdown straightaway was that I felt +sure I could see my way through an affair of that kind, +even with so cool and resourceful a hand as I knew +Allen to be. As an absinthe drinker, what I dreaded +was to have the crisis postponed, knowing all the while +that during only about from four to six hours of the +twenty-four would I be fit in mind or body to oppose +a child, let alone a man who, for five years and among +as desperate a lot of cut-throats as the South Pacific had +ever known, had lived up to his boast that he drew the +line at no act under heaven to gain his end.</p> + +<p class="indent">It had struck me as just a bit providential that Allen +almost certainly would be coming to see me in the early +afternoon—the very time at which, physically and mentally, +I would be best prepared for him. It varies somewhat +with different addicts of the drug, but with me +the "hour of strength"—the interval of the swinging +back of the pendulum, when all the faculties are as much +above normal as they have been below it during the preceding +interval of depression—was mid-afternoon. From +about ten in the morning I was just about my natural +self—just about at the turn of the tide between weakness +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" id="page6"></a>[pg 6]</span> +and strength—for three or four hours; but from +about three to five, when the renewed cravings began to +stir and it had long been my custom to pour my first +thin trickle of green into the cracked ice, I was preternaturally +alive in hand and brain. The rigorous restriction +of my painting to these brief hours of physical +and spiritual exaltation must share with my colours +the credit for the fact that I had already done work that +was to win me a niche distinctively my own as a painter +of tropical marines. How much absinthe—or the reaction +from absinthe—had to do with my earlier successes +was conclusively proven by the way my work at +first fell off when those colourful years I was later to +spend with the incomparable Huntley Rivers in the +Samoas and Marquesas began to bring me back manhood +of mind and body and to rid me—I trust for good and +all—of the curse saddled upon me in my student days +in Paris. But that is neither here nor there as regards +the present story.</p> + +<p class="indent">I had ascertained that Allen's train was to arrive +from Brisbane at ten in the morning, and that he was +to be taken directly from the station to the Town Hall +to receive the "Freedom of the City." Then, out of +consideration for the fact "that the hero" (as the +<i>Herald</i> had it) was "still far from recovered from the +terrible hardships he had endured as a consequence of +his unparalleled self-sacrifice," the remainder of the day +was to be left at his disposal to rest in. The further +program—in which His Excellency the Governor-General +himself was to take part—would be arranged only after +the personal desires of the "modest hero" had been +consulted.</p> + +<p class="indent">A 'phone to the gallery where my Exhibition was +on—or an inquiry of almost anyone connected with the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" id="page7"></a>[pg 7]</span> +show at the Town Hall, for that matter—would apprise +Allen that I was staying at the <i>Australia</i>, and there I +knew he would come direct the moment he could shake +himself free from his entertainers. Someone was to +take him off to lunch, to be sure, but—especially as it +was reported that he was already dieting to get back +to riding weight—I felt sure this would not detain him +long. "It will be about three," I told myself, and left +word at the office that any man asking for me around +that hour should be brought straight to my rooms without +further question. I also 'phoned Lady X—— and +begged off from showing her and a party of friends from +Government House my pictures at four, as I had promised +a couple of days previously. Being borne off to the +inevitable and interminable Australian afternoon teas—or +to anything else I could not easily shake myself +free from very shortly after five—was one of the worst +ordeals incident to the spell of lionizing that had set in +for me from the day of my arrival in Sydney. What +did I care for Sydney, anyhow? Paris was my goal—gay, +cynical, heartless Paris, who took or rejected what +her lovers laid at her feet only as it stirred, or failed to +stir, her jaded pulses, asking not how it was made or +what it had cost. Paris! To bring that languid beauty +fawning to my own feet for a day—even for an hour, +my hour—<i>that</i> would be something worth living—or +dying—for. For many years I had been telling myself +that (between three and five in the afternoon, of course) +and now—quite aside from my nocturnal flights there +on the wings of the "Green Lady"—it seemed that the +end so long striven for was almost in sight.</p> + +<p class="indent">I lunched lightly—a planked red snapper and a couple +of alligator pears—in my room, and toward two o'clock +(to be well on the safe side) slipped into the old hunting +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" id="page8"></a>[pg 8]</span> +jacket I have mentioned, and was ready; just that—ready. +My nerves were absolutely steady. The hand +holding the palette knife with which (to kill the passing +minutes) I began daubing pigments upon a rough +rectangle of blotched canvas on an easel in the embrasure +of the windows, might have adjusted the hair-spring +of my wrist-watch, and the beat of my heart was +slow and strong and steady like the throb of the engines +of a liner in mid-ocean. If either hand or nerve inclined +more one way than the other, it was toward relaxation +rather than tenseness. Tenseness—with a man who has +himself in hand—is for the moment of action, not for +the interval of waiting which precedes it. My whole +feeling was that of complete <i>adequacy;</i> but then, the +sensation was no new one to me—at that time of day.</p> + +<p class="indent">Exhausting the gobs of variegated colour on my +palette, I went to a table in the bathroom and started +chipping the delicately tinted linings from the contents +of a packing case of assorted sea shells, confining my +attentions for the moment to a species of bivalve whose +refulgent inner surface had caught and held the lambent +liquid gold of sunshine that had filtered through five +fathoms of limpid sea-water to reach the coral caverns +where it had grown. Powdering the coruscant scalings +in a mortar, I screened them from time to time, carefully +noting the gradations of colour—ranging from +soft fawn to scintillant saffron—as the more indurated +particles stood out the longer against the friction of +the pestle. At this time, I might explain, I was in the +tentative stage of my experimentation to evolve and +perfect a greater variety of media than had hitherto +been available with which to express in colour the interminable +moods of sea and sky and sunshine. The value +of my contribution to art—not yet complete after five +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" id="page9"></a>[pg 9]</span> +years—will have to be judged when I pass it on to my +contemporaries and posterity. Of the part these colours +played in my later and more permanent success (to +differentiate it from the spectacular but transient spell +of fame upon the threshold of which I stood at the moment +of which I write), I can only say that had I been +confined to the pigments with which my predecessors +had been forced to express themselves, I should never +have risen above the rating of a second or third class +dauber of sea-scapes.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" id="page10"></a>[pg 10]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER II<br /> +<small>HARD-BIT DERELICTS</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">With</span> Allen and his coming in the back of my +brain, it was only natural that my thoughts, +as I ground and sifted and sorted the golden +powders, should turn to Kai and the train of events +leading up to the ghastly tragedy of the <i>Cora Andrews</i>, +so distorted a version of which had gone abroad as a +consequence of the fact that Allen was alive and Bell +was dead, and that I, so far, had not told what I knew +of the circumstances under which the one and the other +had been induced to board the stricken "black-birder."</p> + +<p class="indent">It must have been, I reflected, its comparative remoteness +from all of even the least-sailed of the South Pacific +trade routes that was responsible for making Kai Atoll, +a barely perceptible smudge on the chart of the +Louisiades, the unofficial rendezvous for the most picturesque +lot of cut-throats, blackguards and beachcombers +that "The Islands" had known since the days +of "Bully" Hayes and his care-free contemporaries. +Like had attracted like after the original nucleus gathered, +safety had come with numbers, and at the time +of my arrival no man whose misdeeds had not made +him important enough to send a gunboat after needed +to depart from that secure haven except of his own +free will.</p> + +<p class="indent">Among a score of hard-bit derelicts whose grinning +or scowling phizzes flashed up in memory at the thought +of that sun-baked loop of coral, with its rag-tag of wind-whipped +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" id="page11"></a>[pg 11]</span> +coco palms and its crescent of zinc and thatch-roofed +shacks, only three—or four including myself—occupied +my mind for the moment. Allen—reckless +daredevil that he was—had come to Kai from somewhere +in the Solomons for the very good and sufficient reason +that it was the only island south of the Line at the time +where his welcome would not have been either too hot +or too cold to suit his fastidious taste. Bell had come, +in a stove-in whaleboat, because Kai was the nearest +settlement to the point where he put the <i>Flying Scud</i>—the +trading schooner that was his last command, if we +except the <i>Cora Andrews</i>—aground on Tuka-tuva Reef. +The girl, who arrived with Bell in the whaleboat, came +because he brought her. The tide-rips of Kai passage +and the Devil's own toboggan were all the same to Rona—at +this stage of the game, at least—so long as the +big, quiet, masterful Yankee was bumping-the-bumps +with her. And even afterwards—but let that transpire.</p> + +<p class="indent">I, Roger Whitney, artist, formerly of New York and +Paris, and, latterly, man-about-the French-colonies, with +no fixed abode, had been landed at Kai by a French gunboat +from the Noumea station. I packed myself off +from that accursed hole because the suicide of a couple +of officers in whose company I had been drinking +absinthe at the <i>Cercle Militaire</i> for some weeks had reminded +me altogether too poignantly of what I might, +in the ordinary course of things, expect to be doing +myself before long. A change of scene and, if possible, +a modification of habits was the only hope. I would +never have had the initiative to tackle even the first had +not the feeling persisted that I was on the verge of +doing something worth while with my painting. I went +to Kai because the archipelago thereabouts was reputed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" id="page12"></a>[pg 12]</span> +to have the most gorgeous sky and water colouring in +Polynesia.</p> + +<p class="indent">Neither the promised beauties nor the reputed badness +of Kai stirred me greatly in anticipation. With a bitter +smile I told myself that every night I was seeing sights +more lovely than anything my eyes were likely to rest +on short of Paradise, while the Chamber of Horrors in +which I awoke every morning was a veritable annex to +the Inferno itself. No, it was out of the question that +Kai could unfold in realities, whether to delight or +shock, things to outdo those that were already mine in +dreams that had themselves become more real than +realities. Well, it turned out that I was only half right, +or wrong, whichever way you want to put it. While, on +the one hand, I found the bluff, open badness of Kai +rather more refreshing than shocking; on the other +hand, it was hardly more than a week before I was ready +to swear that not the most ethereal houri that ever laid +her cool green hand upon my fevered brow was of a class +to run one-two-three with a flame-quivering slip of a +nymph whom I had surprised at her bath in a beryline +pool inside the windward reef. I began to pull myself +together from that hour. Rona, the very sight of whom +threw most men out of hand, had quite the opposite +effect upon me. I knew she was not for me, and the +thought that the world actually held such loveliness in +the form of flesh and blood had a sort of reassurance +about it, like the knowledge that one has an ample +income from government bonds.</p> + +<p class="indent">Because I had landed from the <i>Zelee</i>, and also, +perhaps on account of my rig-out (especially the brimless +Algerian sun-helmet), the "beach" of Kai put me +down at once as a "We-we," and, therefore, a creature +quite apart. The only Frenchmen on the island were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" id="page13"></a>[pg 13]</span> +a couple of escapes from the convict settlement of New +Caledonia, and because neither of them could ride or +shoot or fight with their fists, they had no standing with +the predominant Australian "push," most of whom were +more or less handy at all three. It was, indeed, the fact +that, in spite of all my years in Paris and the French +colonies had done to make a physical wreck of me, I +still retained something of the quickness of eye and +hand and foot which had conspired to make my Harvard +record as an all-round-athlete one that only two or three +men have equalled even down to the present day, that +gave me such easy sledding in making my way with the +"best people" of Kai.</p> + +<p class="indent">It took just three minutes—the length of the first +round of the "friendly bout" I fought with "Heifer" +Halligan, ex-welter-weight champion of Victoria, at +Jackson's pub one afternoon—to change Kai's openly +expressed contempt for me to something very near respect. +I thoroughly appreciated the attitude of that +breezy lot of sport-loving rascals toward a Frenchified +Yankee artist, especially one that did not appear to be +a fugitive from justice, and so took the first opportunity +to win a standing with them which would at +least incline them to let me go my own way when I +wanted to. Notwithstanding my wretched condition, I +outpointed my chunky opponent a good three to one in +that opening round; indeed, the "Heifer's" excuse for +the foul which put me to sleep in the Second was that +both his "bloomin' peepers" were so nearly swelled shut +he couldn't see "stryght." But it was my swelling +groin and battered hands, rather than "Heifer's" +bruised optics, that came in for first attention from +deft-fingered Doc Wyndham—once of Guy's, on his own +admission. The next day I was waited upon by a delegation +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" id="page14"></a>[pg 14]</span> +sent from "Jackson's Sporting Club" to urge +me to put myself in training for a go-to-the-finish with +"Shark-mouth" Kelly of Suva, the Fiji open champ. +My speed would dazzle a cow-footed dolt like "Shark-mouth" +was, they said, and he would be easy picking +for me. They further urged that we could clean up all +the loose money west of the "Hundred and Eightieth"—what +odds would Fiji not give in backing a fourteen-stone +stoker against an artist that only weighed ten +stone and looked half dished with the "green" besides? +Moreover, I could keep the whole purse for myself; all +they wanted out of it was the sport. God bless the +scalawags, it was more than half true, that last.</p> + +<p class="indent">The funny thing about it was that the project actually +tempted me at the time, principally, I think, because +there seemed a chance that the hard exercise of training—the +very thing, indeed, that helped work the miracle +a few years later—might effect me at least a temporary +separation, if not a permanent divorce, from the "Green +Lady." I was still temporizing with "delegations" +when the <i>Cora Andrews</i> dropped her hook in Kai +Lagoon and gave us something else to think about.</p> + +<p class="indent">If the little cunning I had left with my fists won me +the respect of the "beach," it remained for my proficiency +with the revolver—something which I had never +allowed myself to grow rusty in—to give me real prestige. +My father had been only less famous as a pistol +shot than as a builder of steel bridges, and from my +birth it had been his dream that I should carry on the +tradition in both lines. If it had broken the old boy's +heart when I turned my back on engineering for art—insisting +on going from Harvard to Beaux Arts instead +of to Boston "Tec" as he had planned—he at least had +nothing to complain of on the score of my aptitude for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" id="page15"></a>[pg 15]</span> +the revolver. He admitted that I had bred true in hand +and eye, even on the day that he called my "art tomfoolery" +a throwback from my French grandmother. +I have always thought that the one circumstance which +prevented the Governor from cutting me off in his will +when he finally had definite proofs of the depths to +which I had sunk in Paris, was the fact that, on my +last visit to the old home on the Hudson, I had beaten +him, shot for shot, with his own pistols, and at his +favourite distance.</p> + +<p class="indent">They were rather free with their gun play during +my first fortnight at Kai, each little affair having been +followed by one or two more or less ceremonious burials +in the coral-walled cemetery on the south lip of the +windward passage. It was merely as a precautionary +measure—on the off chance that they should be tempted +to draw me into something of the kind at a time when +I might not be quite on edge for it—that I took early +opportunity to uncover a trifle of what I had crooked +in my trigger-finger. A casually winged gull or two, +and a few plugged pennies (not a miss at the latter, +luckily, even when they tried to spin them edge on +to my line of fire) effected all that was necessary. After +that, though they were continually sending for me to +come down to Jackson's and shoot the wire off champagne +corks (fizz, loot of some kind, was the freest flowing +drink on the island at the time), or perform some +other equally useful and spectacular gun stunt, not the +roughest of the gang but took the most meticulous care +not to press his invitation the instant it sank home +to him that my mood of the moment wasn't of a kind +calculated to blend smoothly with the free and easy +spirit of a beach-combers' carousal.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was hardly to be expected that they would ever +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" id="page16"></a>[pg 16]</span> +quite understand why a man who could "blot out a +cove's blinker as easy wiv his fist as wiv his gun" (as +I was told that "Reefer" Ogiston, penal absentee and +pearler, put it one day) and who "'peared mo' than +comfitabl' heeled fo' coin," should be "light an' looney +enuf tu go roun' smearin' smashed barnculs on sail +cloth"; and yet it was on that very score—or at least +to their quick comprehension of what I was driving at +in my pictures—that the "beach" of Kai rendered me +a priceless service. Almost from the outset they began +to "twig" my marines, to feel the living atmosphere I +was striving to paint into them. They were all men +who had lived by the sea, on the sea; yes, and not a +few of them had worked under the sea. Well, when I +began to see those deep-set, wrinkle-clutched eyes squint +to a focus of concentration, and, presently, the quick +heave of a hairy chest as the message of the canvas +flashed home, I knew that I was on the right track. +Nothing less than that would have given me the courage +to go on working, as I had set myself to do, on a steadily +decreasing allowance of absinthe, a certain supply of +which, of course, I had brought with me from Noumea.</p> + +<p class="indent">So much for me and my relations to Kai at the time +of which I am writing. Now as to Bell....</p> + +<p class="indent">"Who is that tall, square-jawed chap who looks as +though he was not quite sober?" I had asked a day or +two after I landed.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Yank—calls himself Bell," Jackson replied laconically; +adding that he was "not quite sober" when he +tried to take a cross-cut over Tuka-tuva Reef with the +<i>Flying Scud</i>, that he was "not quite sober" when he +hit the beach in a busted whaleboat, that he had been +"not quite sober" all the time since, and that there was +no doubt that he would still be "not quite sober" when +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" id="page17"></a>[pg 17]</span> +the time came for him to leave the island, whether he went +out with the tide in an outrigger canoe or shuffled off up +the Golden Stairs. "Allus been pickled and allus goin' +to be pickled," Jackson continued; then, qualifyingly: +"Course I don't know he was pickled when he kum int' +the world, but I'm willin' to lay any odds that he'll be +pickled when he shuffles out of it."</p> + +<p class="indent">Just about all of which was, or proved to be, +"stryght dope."</p> + +<p class="indent">After quoting this terse summing of Jackson's, it may +sound a little strange when I say that Bell was a gentleman—not +<i>had been</i>, understand (that could have been +said with some truth about a dozen or more of us at +Kai), but <i>was</i> a gentleman. Though undeniably never +"quite sober," the fact remained that no one on the +island had ever seen him "quite drunk." And no matter +how much liquor he had stowed "under hatches," +no one could say that it interfered either with his trim +or his navigation. His even rolling gait was always the +same, whether it was the glow of his eye-opening plunge +at dawn that lighted his face, or the flush of twelve +hours of steady tippling that darkened it at twilight. +Nor was he ever known to omit that gravely courteous, +almost "old-fashioned," bow which, with the flicker of +smile that was more of his eyes than his mouth, was +the invariable greeting he bestowed upon friend and +stranger alike. The mellow drawl of his "It's suah goin' +to be a fine mawnin'," had made it easier for me to +weather dawns that—in my inflamed imagination—menaced +monstrously in jagged lines like a cubist's nightmare. +If drink had any effect on his speech, it was +to incline him to reserve rather than garrulity. His +temper appeared to be under quite as perfect control +as his legs. Even when he broke "Red" Logan's jaw +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" id="page18"></a>[pg 18]</span> +with a swift short-arm jolt the time that sanguine +Lochinvar tried to nip Rona off his arm as they passed +on the beach in the twilight, they said that Bell hardly +raised his voice as he "guessed that'd hold the varmit +fo' a while." And when, a few days later, Doc +Wyndham told him with a grin that "Red" wouldn't +be screwing a diving helmet on his block for some weeks +to come, it was said there was real regret in the Yankee's +voice as he hoped that the injury wouldn't be +"pumanant."</p> + +<p class="indent">Yes, before I had been a week at Kai I felt that there +was a little addition I could safely make to Jackson's +comprehensive estimate. I knew that Bell had been born +a gentleman, and—whatever lapses there may have +been, or might be—I knew he was going to die a gentleman. +And that also (had I put it on record) would +have proved pretty nearly "stryght dope."</p> + +<p class="indent">What stumped me at first was trying to reconcile the +remarkable control Bell maintained over all his faculties +in spite of his hard drinking with the fact (apparently +fully authenticated) that he had run aground—through +drunkenness—every ship he had ever commanded, +beginning with a U. S. gunboat. He cleared +up that matter for me himself one afternoon, however, +by casually observing—at the moment he chanced to be +watching me trying to transfer to canvas the riot of +opalescence between the <i>lapis lazuli</i> of the barely submerged +reef and the deep indigo where a hundred +fathoms of brine threw back the reflection of the +sinister core of cumulo-nimbus in the heart of a menacing +squall—that the sea had always acted as a tremendous +stimulant to him, especially when he trod a +deck.</p> + +<p class="indent">"If I could just have managed to cut out the whisky +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" id="page19"></a>[pg 19]</span> +at sea, all would have been smooth sailin'," he said in +his deep rich Southern drawl. "On land—heah ... +anywheah—kawn jooce is lak food to me; mah body +convuts it into ene'gy just lak an engine does coal. But +with a schoonah kickin' undah me—we'ell, I guess +theah's just one kick too many, something lak mixin' +drinks p'raps. It suah elevates me good an' plenty +... and when I come down theah's natchaly some +crash. My ship an' I gen'aly strike bottom at about +the same time. But, s'elp me Gawd" (a tensing +<i>timbre</i> in his voice) "on mah next command—"</p> + +<p class="indent">It was the one sure sign that Bell was beginning to +feel the kick of his "kawn jooce" when he spoke of his +"next command." Unless that kick was beginning to +carry a pretty weighty jolt behind it he knew just as +well as everyone else on the beach did that he would +never get his Master's Certificate back again, and that +even if he did there was no house from Honolulu to +Hobart that would trust a ship to a man who had +already beached a half-dozen.</p> + +<p class="indent">Kai was glib to the last detail—rig, tonnage, cargo, +insurance, owner and the like—respecting the several +merchant craft Bell had piled up in the course of his +downward career; but the extent of local "dope" in +the matter of the gunboat episode was to the effect that +it happened "up Manila-way," and that "that was the +bally smash that started him goin'."</p> + +<p class="indent">Personally, I took little stock in the naval part of the +yarn—that is, at first. Then, one morning—it was the +day after the tail of a typhoon had sucked up the end +of Ah Yung's laundry shack and left everyone on the +beach short of clothes—Bell came out in a suit of immaculate +<i>starched</i> whites. It was the cut of the jacket +and the way he wore it that drew and held my puzzled +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" id="page20"></a>[pg 20]</span> +gaze; that its shoulders were "drilled" for epaulettes +and that its thin pearl buttons barely held in buttonholes +that had been worked for something thicker and +wider I did not notice till later. Steady-eyed, lean-jawed, +square-shouldered, ready-poised—not even a flapping +Payta <i>sombrero</i> could quite disguise, nor five years +of heavy tippling quite obliterate, the marks of type. +Then I understood why it was that Bell, all but down +and out though he might be, was, and would remain +to the last, a gentleman. There are things the Navy +puts into a man that not even a court-martial can take +away.</p> + +<p class="indent">The only allusion Bell ever made to his remoter past +was drawn from him a few days later, when—he was +watching me paint again—I chanced to mention that I +had spent a fortnight in the Philippines on my way south +from Saigon to Australia. Glancing up at the sound +of his sharp intake of breath, I saw his jaw set over the +questions that leapt to the tip of his tongue, to relax +gradually as a faraway look came into his wide-set grey +eyes and a wistful smile of reminiscence parted his lips.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Did you heah the band play on the Luneta in the +evenin'?" he asked eagerly, "while the <i>spiggoties</i> in their +<i>calesas</i> wuh racin' round the circle, an' the kiddies an' +theyah nusses wuh rompin' on the grass, an' the big +red sun was goin' down behind Mariveles beyond the +bay? An' did you know the Ahmy an' Navy Club—not +the new one ... the ol' one ovah cross the moat +inside the wall?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Put up there all my time in Manila," I replied. +"A very comfy old hangout, especially considering what +the hotels were."</p> + +<p class="indent">"An'—did you—" (he gulped once or twice as though +the question came hard) "did you evah heah them speak +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" id="page21"></a>[pg 21]</span> +at the Club of a chap called Blake ... Lootenant-Commandah +Blake? He was a son of Captain Blake, +who helped Sampson polish off Cervera, an' a gran'son +of Adm'al Blake. Ol' naval fam'ly."</p> + +<p class="indent">"You mean the man who pulled off that coup when +Wood was cleaning up the crater of Bud Dajo? Some +kind of a bluff on his own with one of the little old +gunboats Dewey captured after the Battle of Manila +Bay, wasn't it? Scared some Jolo Dato into giving up +a bunch of our men he already had lined up against a +wall to <i>bolo</i>, didn't he? Of course, I remember perfectly +now. General X——" (mentioning the Military +Governor of Mindanao by name) "told me the yarn +himself the night I dined with him in Zamboanga. He +said no one but an old poker shark would ever have +thought of the stunt, much less had the nerve to bluff +it out. Incidentally he mentioned that the chap was +the best poker player in the Navy, as he was also the +speediest baseball pitcher ever graduated from Annapolis; +that he had been missed almost as much for +the one as the other since he dropped out of sight several +years before. Some difficulty about—"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Tryin' to push Corregidor out of the entrance to +Manila Bay with the nose of his gunboat," Bell cut in +harshly, the hell in his soul glowing through his eyes +as the glare of the coal-bed welters beyond a stoker's +lifted furnace flap. That, and a single sob sucked +through his contracted throat as the vacuum in his chest +called for air, were the only outward signs of the intensest +spasm of throttled emotion I ever saw assail a +human being. Then the square jaw tightened, the cords +of the muscular neck drew taut, and what would have +been another body and soul racking sob was noiselessly +absorbed in the buffer of a flexed diaphragm. The fires +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" id="page22"></a>[pg 22]</span> +of agony behind the eyes paled and died down like an +expiring coal. The corrugations of the brow smoothed +out as a smile—half amused, half wistful—relaxed the +set lips. The old controlled Bell (I shall continue to +call him so) was in the saddle again.</p> + +<p class="indent">"So they still remembah mah ball-playin'," he +drawled musingly, his left hand digits gently massaging +the bulbous swelling remaining after some red-hot +drive had telescoped the middle finger of his right. +"Ye'es, of co'se they'd miss mah wing in the Ahmy-Navy +game at Ca'nival time. But mah pokah—we'ell +I reckon a few of 'em did find mah pokah hand about +as bafflin' as mah baseball ahm. But it was straight +deliv'ry, tho'—both of 'em. An' they wouldn't be +callin' me a fo'-flushah, etha. No, you didn't heah any +of 'em say that, I'm right suah."</p> + +<p class="indent">A smile more whimsical than bitter twitched his lips +twice or thrice in the minute or two he stood alone with +his thoughts. "So I've sort o' dropped out o' sight +to 'em?" he said finally. "We'ell, I guess that was +about the best thing to happen for all consuned. But, +just the same, if you evah go back Manila-way I won't +be mindin' it if you tell 'em that, tho' the ol' wing's +tuhn'd to glass from long lack o' limberin', an' tho' +I don't play pokah down heah fo' feah o' bein' knifed +fo' mah luck, I'm still hittin' true to fohm in mah own +lil' game of alterin' the sea map with the noses of ships. +I reckon they'll know the reason why."</p> + +<p class="indent">There was another interval of silence, but, unlike the +other, not charged, electric. Bell's blow-off through the +safety-valve of frank speech had taken the peak off +the pent-up pressure within, and when he spoke again +it was merely to quote what the Governor of North +Carolina had said about its having been a long time +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23"></a>[pg 23]</span> +between drinks. "Great thust aggravateh, the Sou'east +Trade." Would I mind—ahem—hiking home with him +and lubricating my tonsils with a drop of "J. Walkah"? +That was simply his delicate way of pretending to ignore +my slavery to absinthe, a habit which not even the most +whisky-saturated sot of an Anglo-Saxon can ever quite +forgive one of his race for falling a victim to. I +wouldn't? "We'ell, <i>hasta manyanah</i>."</p> + +<p class="indent">With a crunch of coral clinkers under his feet and a +stave of "Carry Me Back to Ol' Virginny" on his lips, +Bell, disdaining the smooth path by the beach, swung +off through the pandanus scrub on what he called a +"bee-line for home"! He had a weakness for taking +"short-cuts" on land as well as at sea. Never again—not +even in the moment of his great decision—did he +lift for me or any other man the "furnace flap" of iron +reserve that masked the fires of his innermost soul.</p> + +<p class="indent">Their saving "sense of sport," which was the golden +vein in the rough iron of the "beach push" of Kai, +made it inevitable that they should have a substantial +sense of respect for a man of Bell's stamp, and this +might easily have ripened to an active popularity had +not the American's quiet but inflexible reserve prevented +their knowing him better. They suspected that he was +no novice in handling the big Colt's that was flopping +on his hip when he landed, they knew that there was +a weighty punch behind his long arm, and they were +frankly outspoken in their admiration of the manner +in which he stowed and carried his booze. But what +had impressed them more than anything else was the +way in which he had taken the devil out of a vicious imp +of a Solomon Island pony on the beach one morning. +"Hellish hard-handed," "Slant" Allen had said, as his +steel-blue eyes narrowed down to slits in the intensity +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" id="page24"></a>[pg 24]</span> +of his interest and admiration; "but a seat like he was +screwed to the brute's backbone. Old cross-country +rider—hundred to one on it. Man in a million in a +steeplechase on a horse strong enough to carry the +weight. Gawd, what a seat!"</p> + +<p class="indent">All in all, indeed, there was only one thing the +"beach" held against Bell, and that was Rona, or +rather his possession of her. There was nothing personal +in this, of course. They merely regarded the big +American in the same light they had always regarded +a man with a chest of pearls or anything else of value +that their simple, direct natures made them yearn for +the possession of. There was this difference, however. +Where the "push" of Kai would have combined to a +man to get away with a box of pearls or a cargo of +shell, the annexing of a woman was essentially a lone-hand +game, and—well, Bell was hardly the kind of a +"one-man job" any of them cared to tackle. I feel +practically certain that, but for the disturbance of the +even tenor of Kai's way incident to the <i>Cora Andrews</i> +affair, his "rights" in Rona would never have been +challenged.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" id="page25"></a>[pg 25]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER III<br /> +<small>THE GIRL HERSELF</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">As</span> for the girl herself, words fail me in trying to picture +her, just as my brush and pencil (save perhaps +for that one rough memory sketch, done at +white heat while still gripped in the exaltation that first +glimpse of her splashing inside the reef had thrown me +into) have always failed. This is, I fancy, because, unbelievably +beautiful though she was, there was still so +much of her appeal that was of the spirit rather than +the flesh—something intangible which had to be sensed +rather than seen. She was compact of contradictions, +physical as well as mental. So slender as almost to +suggest fragility at a first glance, there was still not +a straight line, nor an angle, nor a hint of boniness, +from the arch of her instep to the tips of her ears. +Again, pixie-like as she was in the dainty perfection of +her modelling, there was yet a fairly feral suggestion +of suppleness and strength underrunning the soft fluency +of contour. The strength was there, too, held in reserve +in the flexible frame like the power of a coiled spring. +I saw her unleash it one morning when, impatient of +the slowness of a clumsy Fijian who was launching a +very sizable dugout for her, she yanked him aside by +the hair of his fuzzy head and did the job herself. I +can still see the run of muscles under the olive-silk skin +of arm and ankle, and the bent-bow arch of her slender +back, as she gave a last push to the cranky outrigger. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" id="page26"></a>[pg 26]</span> +Indeed, my mind is full of pictures like that—paddling, +swimming, leaning hard against the buffets of a passing +squall, with a lock of wet hair streaking across her glowing +face and her drenched garments clinging to her lithe +limbs; and yet, as I have said, the buoyant, flaming +spirit of her always escaped my brush and pencil as it +now eludes portrayal by my pen.</p> + +<p class="indent">But the most baffling, as it was also the most fascinating, +of Rona's contradictions was the combination she +presented of inward intensity and outward calm. The +fire of her was, perhaps, the first thing one was conscious +of. Even I, with my blood thinned and cooled with the +ice of absinthe, could never watch her movements without +a quickening of my jaded pulses; to the sanguine +combers of Kai the sight of her (whether the rippling +undulations of arms and shoulders as she drove a canoe +through the water, or the hawk-like immobility of her +as she poised on a pinnacle of reef waiting for a chance +to cast her little Dyak purse-net) was palpably maddening.</p> + +<p class="indent">So much for the flaming appeal of the girl in action, +or suspended action, which was, of course, about the +only way in which she was ever revealed to the "beach." +Now picture the same creature (as Bell—and occasionally +myself, his only intimate friend on the island—so +often saw her) seated cross-legged on a mat, her sloe-eyes, +set slightly slant, fixed dreamily on nothingness, +like a sort of reincarnated girl-Buddha. The sight of +her thus never failed to awaken in my nostrils the smell +of smouldering <i>yakka</i> sticks, and to set my ears ringing +with the throb of temple bells.</p> + +<p class="indent">To my hyper-sophisticated (I will not say degenerate) +senses this Oriental side of the girl made a subtle +appeal that was like an enchantment. The passion to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" id="page27"></a>[pg 27]</span> +paint her—always burning within me when I saw her +in action—never assailed me when she fell into one of +those contemplative calms. Rather the peace of her +soothed me like an opiate and made me content to sit +and dream myself. It was the one thing (until I got +the habit by the throat years afterward) that ever held +my nerves steady when the "absinthe hour" drew near +at the end of the afternoon. As long as Rona would +continue to "sit Buddha" I had myself completely in +hand, even till well on after sunset. But if she moved, +or spoke, or even showed by her eyes that she was following +Bell's words (it was he—less sensitive to this +phase of her than I—who did most of the talking at +these times), the spell was broken. The haste of my +bolt for home was almost indecent. I have sometimes +thought that a few months alone with Rona at this time +might have effected very near to a complete cure in me—by +a sort of involuntary mental therapeutic treatment +on her part, I mean. But perhaps the other side of +her—the "unreposeful" one—might have complicated +the case.</p> + +<p class="indent">Both the fire and the repose of Rona—the passion and +the peace of her—were reflected in the olive oval of +her face, the one by the full, sensuous lips and the sensitive +nostrils, and the other by the smooth, low brow. +The low-lidded blue-black eyes were "debatable territory," +now in the hands of one, now the other. So, too, +that infallible "gauge of temperament," whose dial is +the pucker between the eyebrows. With Rona, this +"passion-pressure index" was a corrugated knot of intensity +or an olive blank according as to whether her +inner fires were flaming or banked.</p> + +<p class="indent">Bell knew little of the girl's origin and said less. +"Rona's <i>trousseau</i> consisted of huh peacock sca'f an' this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" id="page28"></a>[pg 28]</span> +heah baby <i>bolo</i>," he said in his slow drawl one afternoon +when he had borrowed the exquisite little dagger +to show me how the Jolo <i>juramentado</i> executed his +favourite belly-ripping stroke; "an' I reckon they'll +comprise 'bout the sum total of huh mo'nin' at mah +fun'ral." That, and "I guess Rona knows no mo' 'bout +mah past reco'd than I do 'bout huhs," was all I recollect +his ever having said on the subject. He was content +to let it rest at that.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was old Jackson who told me that he had seen the +girl at Ponape, where she had been brought by an "owl-eyed" +(referring to horn-spectacles rather than to the +almond orbs themselves, I took it) "chink" when he +came back to the Carolines after buying bird-of-paradise +skins down New Guinea-way. She was dressed "Java-style" +at the time, and was said to have been picked +up at Ternate or Ambon in the Moluccas. Although the +wily old Celestial kept the girl practically under lock +and key from the first, customers of his shop occasionally +glimpsed her, and she them, it would seem. Among +these was the Yankee skipper of the trading schooner, +<i>Flying Scud</i>. The coming together of those two must +have been like the touching off of a <i>ku-kui</i>-nut torch, +Jackson opined, adding that he supposed I "twigged +that thar was no snuffin' uv <i>ku-kui</i>, onst aflar."</p> + +<p class="indent">Just how the sequel eventuated no one in Ponape save +the old Chinaman knew, and he never told. With only +half her copra discharged, the <i>Scud</i> was heard getting +under way at midnight, shortly after which the silhouette +of her, close-reefed, was observed to blot out the moon +three or four times as she beat out of that "hell's craw" +of a passage in the teeth of a rising sou'wester. The +girl was never seen in the Carolines again. Neither was +Bell nor the <i>Scud</i>, for that matter, as it was but a few +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" id="page29"></a>[pg 29]</span> +days later that he attempted his disastrous short-cut +across Tuka-tuva Reef.</p> + +<p class="indent">The next morning the Chinaman waited on his customers +with his neck heavily, obscuringly swathed in +bandages. He kept these on for a fortnight or more, +and when they were finally dispensed with replaced his +loose shirt with a close-buttoned jacket having an unusually +high-cut neck. Even the latter, however, could +not entirely conceal a number of parallel red cicatrices +which, beginning on his fat jowls, ran down, slightly +converging, onto his puffy yellow throat. Jackson felt +sure that the point where those red furrows came to a +focus must have been "fairish messed up."</p> + +<p class="indent">On the beach of Ponape opinion was fairly divided +as to whether the big, close-mouthed Yank had "strong-armed" +the Chinaman and carried off the girl bodily, +perhaps against her will, or whether she had made the +get-away unaided, going off to the <i>Scud</i> on her own. +In Jackson's mind there were no doubts.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I see them welts wi' my own peepers," he said, +"an' they wan't the marks uv a man. They wuz +<i>scratches</i>. That lanky Yank don't scratch ... 'e +<i>wallops</i>. But that gal—s'y, did y'u ever tyke a squint +at 'er taloons? Them's the ans'er. She kum to 'im; +an' she's stickin' lika oktypus."</p> + +<p class="indent">Again I must credit old "Jack" with handing me +pretty near to the "stryght dope."</p> + +<p class="indent">Yes, I had indeed noticed Rona's wonderful fingernails; +likewise the astonishing amount of care she lavished +on them. One could not have helped noticing +them. A quarter to half an inch long, meticulously +manicured, and stained a maroon-brown (rather darker +than the rich <i>sang du bœuf</i> of <i>henna</i>), she was always +polishing them—those of one hand on the palm of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" id="page30"></a>[pg 30]</span> +other—even when "sitting Buddha" with dreaming half-closed +eyes. I inferred the habit of letting them grow +was acquired in the course of her association with the +Chinese. She cut them just short of where they would +begin to curl and be a nuisance. A fraction of an inch +longer, and they would have been as useless as the tusks +of an old boar that had curved back more than a half +circle. As they were....</p> + +<p class="indent">One man's guess was as good as another's in the matter +of Rona's racial origin. Kai, though agreeing that +she came from "somewhere Java-side," always spoke of +her as a Kanaka, just as they did of all the rest of the +"beach" women who were not palpably Jap, Chinese +or white. I doubt very much, however, that she had a +drop of real Polynesian blood in her veins. Flaring with +temperament though she was, there was still nothing +about her of the happy-go-lucky, devil-may-care sensuousness +of the Caroline or Samoan, the only women of +the Islands to whom she bore even the faintest resemblance +in face or figure. If she had come from Marquesas-way—but +no, not even an admixture of old +Spanish pirate blood would have accounted for either +the spirit or the body of Rona.</p> + +<p class="indent">The girl's practice of wearing her <i>sulu</i> (Kai used the +Fijian name for the inevitable South Sea waist-cloth +which the Samoans call <i>lava-lava</i> and the Tahitians +<i>pareo</i>) Malay-fashion—looped over the breasts and secured +by a hitch under the left arm—indicated that her +outdoor life at least had been spent somewhere in the +Insulinde Archipelago. Her very considerable English +vocabulary, however, and especially her fluency in +"pidgin," could hardly have been acquired save through +some years of residence in the Straits Settlements or the +Federated Malay States. I was inclined to favour Singapore, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" id="page31"></a>[pg 31]</span> +especially as she had once let slip something about +a fling at <i>fan-tan</i> at Johore. But even had she been +born in that amazing island melting pot, her unmistakably +Hindu cast of features and mould of figure were +hardly accounted for. The Madrassi Tamils of the +Straits were coolies, and Rona radiated <i>caste</i> from her +slender pink-tipped toes to her crown of indigo-black +hair coils.</p> + +<p class="indent">In my own mind I harboured the theory that the girl +was a "by-product" of the harem of one of the innumerable +petty Sultanates of Malaysia, among which +I knew were to be found girls of all the tribes and races +of the Moslem world. In no other way could I account +for the flaming spirit and the physical perfection of +her. Not even descent from that strange Hindu remnant +of the lovely island of Lombok, just east of Java +(a theory which I had also turned over in my mind), +quite satisfied on both these scores. As to what sort +of a centrifugal impulse might have operated to spin +her forth to the clutches of the currents of the outside +world, I had not speculated very deeply. But—well, I +knew something of the strange currencies in which +Malaysian potentates paid their debts to Singapore rug +and jewel merchants!</p> + +<p class="indent">In spite of the increasing warmth of Bell's friendship +for me, my way to Rona's confidence proved far +from easy sledding. This was partly because I had +got in bad at the outset by starting to sketch that +capricious lady at her reef-side bath in the face of her +very outspoken disapproval of anything so unseemly, +and partly because she was slow in making up her +mind that I did not necessarily classify with the predatory +males against whom her whole life had unquestionably +been an unrelieved defence. Obsessed by the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" id="page32"></a>[pg 32]</span> +desire to paint her, I had not improved my standing +with the girl by asking Bell (after she had refused me +pointblank) to intercede to get her to sit for me. Indeed, +that <i>faux pas</i> on my part seemed to have put +an end for good to any chance I might have had of getting +her to pose. Rona was openly indignant that I +should have presumed to regard her own decision as +other than final in the matter, while Bell, though perfectly +good-natured about it, was no less decided in his +disapproval.</p> + +<p class="indent">"No, sah, I'm not fo' it in the least, ol' man," he +drawled decisively. "Lil' Rona's 'bout the neahest +thing to a true, lovin' an' lawful wife I evah had, awh +evah will have, fo' that mattah. So you must see that +it doan quite jibe with mah sense o' what is right an' +propah unda the ci'cumstances fo' me to aid an' abet +a proceduah that might culminate in huh appeahin' on +the wall o' somun's bathroom as a spo'tin nymph awh +a wallowin' mumaid. Nothin' doin', ol' man; not with +mah blessin'."</p> + +<p class="indent">That ended it, of course. From then on I had to +content myself with the hopeless "sketches from +memory," in not the best of which was I able to catch +more than a suggestion of what I sought. I could not +have failed more utterly had I set myself to do a "character +portrait" of the "Green Lady" herself.</p> + +<p class="indent">But on the personal side it was not long before I began +to make an appreciable gain of ground with Rona. First +she ceased avoiding me when I dropped in for a mid-afternoon +yarn with Bell; then she began to assume a +sort of "benevolent tolerance" by coming and sitting +on the mat as we talked; finally she started taking an +active interest in the conversation, coming out of her +Buddha-like trances every now and then to cut in with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" id="page33"></a>[pg 33]</span> +some trenchant comment in fluent <i>bêche-de-mer</i> jargon, +or perhaps a shrewd question phrased in carefully chosen +and enunciated English.</p> + +<p class="indent">At last, one memorable afternoon, she came (quite on +her own initiative, he assured me) with Bell to call at +the little thatch-roofed, woven-walled hut I was calling +home at the time, wearing in honour of the occasion her +most treasured possession, the "peacock" shawl. It was +this astonishingly fine piece of Cantonese embroidery +which Bell had mentioned as having made up, with the +little Malay <i>kris</i>, the sum total of the dower Rona had +brought him. It was the first time I had had a chance +to examine it at close quarters and I saw at a glance +that, however it had come into her possession, it had +once been a priceless thing, a real work of art, a treasure +fit for the <i>trousseau</i> of a princess.</p> + +<p class="indent">The body of the shawl was amber-coloured silk of so +close a weave that it would have shed water as it stopped +light. A rubber blanket would not have thrown a +blacker shadow when held against the sun. Yet so sheer +and fine was the fabric that a twist of it streamed from +one hand to the other as brandy pours out of a flask. +The peacock itself, done in a thousand tints and shades +of delicate floss, was all of life-size in body and something +more than that in tail. Stitching and matching, +stitching and matching—you could almost <i>see</i> the artist +growing old before your eyes as you thought of the years +he must have bent above his glacially-growing masterpiece.</p> + +<p class="indent">With this rainbow-bright rectangle of shimmering +silks worn folded over the shoulders in the ordinary +way the peacock must have been considerably telescoped +and distorted. It was doubtless for this reason that Rona +always wore it Malay-fashion, as the Javanese women +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" id="page34"></a>[pg 34]</span> +wear their <i>sarongs</i>. This displayed the jewel-gay bird in +all his pride, the bright breast swelling over Rona's own +and the coruscant cascade of tail (you could almost hear +the rustle of it) falling about her limbs like the feather +mantle of an early Hawaiian queen.</p> + +<p class="indent">I have said that this shawl <i>had been</i> a priceless thing. +As a matter of fact it still was such. So lovingly had it +been cared for, not only by Rona but by the many owners +it may well have had before her (for Canton had done +no such work as this for half a century at least), that +not a corner was frayed, not a one of its countless thousands +of stitches started. In texture it was scarcely less +perfect than the day it was finished. The only thing +wrong with it was that the colours were a good deal +dulled, not by age (for the old Cantonese dyes are as +deathless of hue as ancient Phœnician glass), but by +grease. This had happened, I suspected, largely during +Rona's stewardship, for the <i>tiare</i>-scented coco oil she +used so freely as a hair-perfume often found its way to +her arms and shoulders—and so to the shawl. All the +latter needed to restore it to its pristine freshness and +refulgency was a good "dry-cleaning."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Even Rona does not dream of the brilliance of colour +under that grease," I said to myself. "Oh, for a can +of naphtha!" Then the fact that my benzine would do +the same trick flashed into my mind. I was all but out +of it, I reflected, with replenishment uncertain; but I +could at least contrive to spare enough to make a start +with. Pouring a teacupful of the pungent solvent out of +the scant pint I found still on hand, I saturated a clean +rag with it and, without a word of explanation to the +girl, walked up to her and started washing the bird's +face and hackle. For an instant she stiffened angrily, +evidently under the impression that my solicitude for the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" id="page35"></a>[pg 35]</span> +embroidery was only a thinly veiled excuse for chucking +her under the chin. (Indeed, she confessed to me later +that "gentlemen" could always be counted on to employ +such indirect methods of approach, and that she found +them rather more difficult to combat than the straight +cave-man stuff of the less sophisticated beach-comber). +But as the first glad flash of brightening colour caught +the corner of a suspiciously-lowered eye, the innocence—even +the laudability—of my purpose shot home to her +quick mind. With a twirl of thumbs and a twist of +shoulders, she came out of the shawl as a golden moth +spurns its cocoon, and, leaving it in my hand, darted +over to a peg and purloined an old smoking-jacket to +take its place.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Bath heem good, Whitnee," she chirruped, giving +her slipping <i>sulu</i> a hitch with one hand as she thrust +the other into an arm of the jacket. "Makee heem first-chop +clean. He too much dirtee long time."</p> + +<p class="indent">That she lapsed thus into "pidgin" was a sure sign of +the girl's ecstatic excitement. Usually her English—especially +when she had time to ponder and polish it in +advance, as when she put questions—was much better +than that.</p> + +<p class="indent">Sopping gently to avoid pulling the delicate stitches, +I managed to "bath heem good" from his saucy crest, +down over the royal purple hackle, and well out upon +his comparatively sober-coloured breast before my benzine +came to an end. A slightly more vigorous dabbing +beyond the embroidery line "alchemized" a patch of +clouded amber to a halo of lucent gold, against which +the bird's haughtily-held head stood out like the profile +of a martyred saint on an old stained-glass window. +Thus far would the precious contents of that teacup go, +and no farther.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36"></a>[pg 36]</span> +Rona was in raptures. What though there was a +blotchy high- (or rather low-) water mark where the dabbing +had ceased near the base of the erupting splash of +tail-feathers, what though the magic liquid had come off +second best in its bout with an indurated gob of egg-yolk +drooling across one wing, what though the worst of our +Augean labours—the cleansing of the mighty green tail—had +yet to be tackled—just look at the glory already +wrought!</p> + +<p class="indent">Crooning with pleasure, the girl stroked and petted +the renovated iridescence of the lordly neck—until I +called her attention to the fact that the still unevaporated +benzine was dissolving her finger-nail stain. It was an +ill-advised remark on my part, for it turned her attention +to the still unreclaimed tail and set her begging for +"just nuff fo' one-piecee featha, Whitnee; he need it +vehry ba-ad."</p> + +<p class="indent">She had her way, of course, and would have finished +my benzine then and there had not Bell come to my +rescue. Laughing and muttering something about +"thustiness" (not drinking whisky myself, I had none +in stock), he took Rona by the arm and started off on +the homeward path. Strutting and preening she went, +the very reincarnation of the royal bird upon her bosom, +the very living, breathing spirit of "peacock-iness."</p> + +<p class="indent">She might just as well have finished the job—or rather +the benzine—at once, though, for she got it all in the +end. Every day or two—sometimes with Bell, sometimes +alone—she began paying calls. Always she was in +gala dress and always, after more or less "finessive" +preliminaries, she made the same plea.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Just one mo' featha, Whitnee," she would coo ingratiatingly, +putting a long-nailed finger-tip on the +"eye" of the particular quill next in line for renovation. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" id="page37"></a>[pg 37]</span> +"Ple-ese, Whitnee.... 'Peakie' has been one +veh-ry good fella bird too-dayee. Pu-retty ple'ese, +Whitnee."</p> + +<p class="indent">Of course that always got me, and incidentally the +benzine—as long as it lasted. I had remarked to Bell +once or twice how his soft Southern drawl was beginning +to creep into Rona's English, and how fetching a +combination it made with her "pidgin-<i>bêche-de-mer</i>" +blend. Getting wind of this, the sly minx played the +card to the limit. That "one mo' fetha, Whitnee," had +me fated, and she knew it. I was completely out of +benzine for three weeks, and at a time when I was in +especial need of it in connection with my experiments in +colour-mixing; but Rona's friendship was cheap at the +price. When I finally got hold of a five-gallon can of +naphtha from Suva (sent up to Bougainville by Burns, +Phillip packet, where one of Jackson's cutters picked it +up), the dry-cleaning the two of us gave old "Peakie" +was the best fun I'd had since I used to scrub my Newfoundland +pup as a kid.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" id="page38"></a>[pg 38]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER IV<br /> +<small>"SLANT" ALLEN RETIRES AGAIN</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Although</span> "Slant" Allen had "retired" to Kai +on three or four occasions previous to my arrival, +his latest sojourn—the one which ended with his +enforced departure on the <i>Cora Andrews</i>—began about +a month after I took up my residence there. Two questions +which Jackson asked of the man who told him +"Slant" had landed on the beach the night before have +always struck me as especially illuminative. One was: +"Did 'e fetch a 'awse?" and the other—even more +laconic—was: "Gin, Kanak, Jap or Chinee this +croose?"</p> + +<p class="indent">And equally illuminative was his comment when told +that Allen had come across in a catamaran, bringing +neither girl nor horse. "Then 'e musta sloped in a 'ell +uv a rush," said the old trader with finality.</p> + +<p class="indent">Kai was frankly disappointed that "Slant" had come +without his "stable," for the "beach race meets" which +had made his name a byword throughout the Islands +were always productive (it was universally agreed) of +no end of sport and excitement. Allen, it was claimed, +had transported ponies about the South Seas by every +known craft that plied their waters, from a steam packet +to a Papuan head-hunting canoe. Once, in Fiji, he had +even swum a horse across the flooded Rewa in order to +get it to Suva in time to run for the "Roku's Cup." +Of course he won out. "Slant" always did that—by +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" id="page39"></a>[pg 39]</span> +hook or by crook—whether with a horse or a woman. +Thus Kai, in discussing Allen's advent.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was characteristic of that hard-hit bunch of "gentlemen +and sportsmen" (a phrase often on the lips of +the post-prandial speakers at their "race-banquets") +that they should hasten to tell me that Allen had once +owned a Melbourne Cup winner—"came jolly near riding +the gelding himself, too"—while the fact that he +had killed more of his fellow-creatures than any man of +twice his age in the South Seas was only a matter of +casual mention. You had to credit the frank minded +and mouthed rascals for running true to form in that +touch of naïveté, though. To them the Melbourne Cup +was the greatest thing in the world beyond any possible +comparison: a human life was just about the least. But +they were quite as careless about their own lives as of +those of others, and that alone always raised them in my +eyes far above the pettiness of lesser if more conventionally +moral men.</p> + +<p class="indent">Although there was not a horse on the island at the +time of Allen's arrival, within a week he had wangled +it somehow to have a bunch of Solomon ponies brought +over from Malaite, and at the end of a fortnight had +pulled off the first Kai "Grand National." "Slant" +called it that, he said, because, like the great Liverpool +classic from which he borrowed the name, it was to be a +steeplechase. The half-wild little beasts were brought +over on the deck of a trading schooner, travelling in such +restricted quarters in the waist that they had to be +thrown and held down to let the foreboom go over every +time she was put about.</p> + +<p class="indent">A bit stiff in the knees but uncurbed of spirit, the +vicious quartette clambered out on the beach, shook off +the water soaked up during their swim from the schooner, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" id="page40"></a>[pg 40]</span> +laid back their ears and stood ready to fight all-comers +with tooth and hoof. As a consequence, naturally, the +preliminaries of the "Grand National" were more in +the character of broncho-busting contests than speed +trials, and it was in one of these that the mighty Bell +had won the plaudits and the respect of the "beach" +by breaking the spirit of a wild-eyed lump of a cayuse +which had just managed to give the momentarily overconfident +"Slant" a nasty spill.</p> + +<p class="indent">The "Grand National" was run round the curve of +the beach, with two "water-jumps," the "stonewall" of +the quay, and three hurdles in the form of old dugout +canoes to be negotiated. Bell declined to accept a mount, +and, in any event, his weight would have told prohibitively +against him in competition with any one of at +least a dozen lighter men, all of whom had had more +or less actual racing experience.</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen was the only one to go the full route at the first +running of the "National," all three of his rivals falling +out at the water-jumps. When one of the defeated +riders limped in and started to attribute "Slant's" win +to the fact that he had picked the best-broken if not the +speediest mount, that imperturbable sportsman cheerfully +agreed to ride the race over mounted on any one of +the ponies the judges cared to designate. Again he had +a walkaway. It was all a matter of sheer horse-mastership; +the speed of the beast had little to do with it.</p> + +<p class="indent">Finally, just to prove that the running was all on the +square, "Slant" rode the race on each of the two remaining +ponies, one of which had strained a tendon +and rasped most of the hide off one side of him in trying +to jump <i>through</i> the coral blocks of the quay instead of +over them. We gave the laughing centaur a great ovation +when he brought even the cripple—dripping blood +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" id="page41"></a>[pg 41]</span> +and sweat it was, but still responsive to the magic of the +hand that imposed its will at the pressure of a bridle +rein—under the wire a half-breach-length winner.</p> + +<p class="indent">And still more wildly we cheered him when "Quill" +Partington—a broken-down and broken-out (from jail, +I mean) newspaper writer, late of Melbourne and formerly +of Calcutta and London—chivvied up an ancient +tortoise that Jackson used to keep around his shop as a +pet, and, mounting "Slant" on the ridge of its shell, +offered to back the pair at catch-weights against anything +on the island. "Quill," a most engaging character, +was the poet and minstrel of Kai. He did not, +however, figure in the <i>Cora Andrews</i> affair, save that he +later wrote some rather spirited verses in celebration of +it, or rather of what little he knew of it.</p> + +<p class="indent">If the feeling in Kai had been one of disappointment +when it was first reported Allen had landed without a +horse, that awakened by the still more astonishing intelligence +that he did not have a girl with him was somewhat +different—rather more akin to apprehension, it +seemed to me. "Slant" was no more of a laggard on +the love-path than the race-track, and the gay gossip of +his amazing <i>amours</i> was sipped with the tea of effete +Apia and Papeete with scarcely less gusto than when it +sauced the salt-horse of the pearling fleets of Port Darwin +and Thursday Island. The lightning of his love +was likely to strike anywhere, you were told, sometimes +in the most unexpected places. There was that vixen of +a <i>gin</i>—a straight Australian aboriginal black—whom he +had risked his life for in cutting across a corner of the +"Never-Never" when he ran away with her, only to +have her turn and knife him later in Deli out of jealousy +of a half-caste Portugee Timorese who had caught his +fickle fancy. And—to take the other extreme—there +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" id="page42"></a>[pg 42]</span> +was that little golden-haired doll of a niece of the Governor +of Fiji, who fell heels over head in love with +"Slant" after seeing him play polo in Suva, and who, +when they packed her off for home to break up the disgraceful +affair, made what was described as a really sincere +attempt to go over the rail of the Auckland-bound +Union packet. Then there was "Slant's" affair with +that notorious pearl-pirate "Squid" Saunders' girl—the +one the missionaries adopted and tried to reclaim, +and who promised for a while to be such a credit to their +teaching—with its ghastly sequel. And so it went.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was said that "Slant" boasted of having a son +(he never kept track of girls, he said) and a saddle in +every group west of the "hundred and eightieth." I +daresay this was true, though those who put it <i>island</i> +instead of group doubtless exaggerated. I had landed at +several islands myself where I had been unable to borrow +a saddle.</p> + +<p class="indent">Most of the little unpleasantnesses that disturbed the +<i>dolce far niente</i> atmosphere of Kai had their roots in +the fact that the male population of the island was always +a good jump ahead of the female, that there were +not, in short, enough girls to go round. Under these conditions +the advent of so notorious a "feminist" as Allen +could not but be provocative of a certain anxiety, especially +on the part of those who were (to use Jackson's +terse if inelegant expression) "'arborin' 'igh-class 'ens."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Don't you coves make no mistake," Jackson was +quoted as saying; "'Slant' 'll be tykin' a myte stryght +aw'y. Only question is 'oo's myte 'e's goin' to tyke. If +it was any bloke but that squar'-jawed Yank w'at 'ad +'is grapplin' 'ooks slung into the plumage uv that perky +peacock pullet, I'd 'ave no doubt w'at bird 'Slant' ud +be baggin' an' draggin' 'ome to broil. But—layin' low +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" id="page43"></a>[pg 43]</span> +as 'e is fer a bit—I'm thinkin' it ain't <i>that</i> presarve +'e'll be gunnin' in just yet aw'ile."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Stryght dope" again from old "Jack." Allen had +his own reasons for not wishing his presence in Kai to be +called too forcibly to the attention of the authorities in +the British Solomons, where his latest escapade (something +to do with the forcible recruiting of blacks) came +pretty near the line where they were likely to ask for +a gunboat from the Sydney station to aid in bringing +him to book. Allen was by no means inadept of his +fellow men, and he must have known that a showdown +with a man of Bell's stamp—even though he had the +best of it and copped the most desirable thing he ever +set eyes on for his very own—could hardly fail to prove +a clash that men would like to talk about, the inspiration +of a tale that would shudder itself from Yap to +Tasmania in delirious beach-comber jargon, setting +tongues wagging about him at a time when publicity was +quite the last thing that he wanted.</p> + +<p class="indent">Pipped as he was by the pullet's pulchritude (his own +expression—he admitted as much to Jackson offhand) +the cool-headed if hot-blooded Allen evidently decided +to ride a waiting race for at least the first half or three-quarters, +and so have something to draw on for the +straightaway. "Easy starter but a hell of a finisher," +was the popular appraisal of "Slant's" way of winning +with a horse, and it was but natural that he should pin +his faith to similar tactics where a woman was in the +running. There's a lot in common between the two, +and it is rarely indeed that a man who has a way with +the one comes a cropper with the other.</p> + +<p class="indent">It has occurred to me, too, that a very wholesome respect +for Bell as a man may have had a good deal to +do with Allen's failure to force the running at the start +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" id="page44"></a>[pg 44]</span> +in the matter of Rona. The steel of his own hard purposefulness +could not have but struck sparks on the +flint beneath the American's mask of suave reserve at +their first meeting, and the Australian was far too intelligent +not to sense that in Bell's Jovian spirit there was +a force more compelling than anything in his own. +Moreover, at riding, fighting and shooting—all that carried +much weight when they judged a man in the +Islands—Allen must have known that if the balance +inclined either way, it was in the American's favour.</p> + +<p class="indent">It may well have been the sheer rugged, manly forcefulness +of Bell that gave Allen pause, at least in those +early weeks before the Australian's infatuation for the +girl became an obsession in which his reason had no part. +For years he had been taking life and property out of +downright contempt for his victims. "I'm the better +man, and therefore the more deserving," was sufficient +excuse in his own mind for his most high-handed outrages. +But in Bell—for almost the first time perhaps—he +had met a man who had an "edge" on him—even his +soaring ego could not prevent his recognizing that. This +must have been plain to him even when he measured +the Yankee with the yardstick of his own primitive code. +Yes, I really think that Allen, in his innermost mind, +rated Bell as a man who, like himself, had a "right" to +the best of everything. I am even convinced that, for +a while at least, he even tried to respect Bell's right to +Rona.</p> + +<p class="indent">But do not let me leave the impression that there was +one iota of physical fear of Bell in this attitude of +Allen's. From what I had seen, and was to see, of the +cool-eyed Antipodean that was unthinkable, even though +he knew that the powerful ex-athlete could come pretty +near to staving in his ribs with a single punch, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" id="page45"></a>[pg 45]</span> +though he may have suspected that the Yankee was the +deadlier man on the draw. I honestly believe that +"Slant" Allen had no fear in his heart of anyone or +anything under heaven. At that time, I mean; what +came to him later is another matter.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Slant" ran true to Jackson's "dope sheet" in the +matter of "tykin' a myte," though, but it was done +quite decently and in order—that is, as such things go +in the Islands. He put up with "Quill" Partington (an +old pal) for a fortnight, and then, when "Quill's" lyric +spirit led him to run over to Malaite in search of a queer +native banjo that someone had told him the bush niggers +of the interior of that island made, strings and all, from +the wild boar, "Slant" simply stayed on to "look after +the pigs and chickens" (as he told them at Jackson's) +and, incidentally, Mary Regan. Mary came from Norfolk +Island, and claimed lineal descent from the mutineers +of the "Bounty." Certainly she looked the part—of +a descendant of mutineers, I mean. She had specialized +in unhappy love affairs, and showed it. She +had a thin, bony, angular frame, a voice like the wail of +a cracked fog-horn, and a temper "calid enough for +cooking purposes," as "Quill" described it. "Quill," +who had developed a taste for curries and hot seasonings +while living in India, claimed that the reason he had put +up with Mary for so long was because of the saving she +enabled him to effect in <i>paprika</i>.</p> + +<p class="indent">How "Slant"—straight meat-eating and unpampered +of palate as he was—hit it off with the mercurial Mary +no one seemed to know. At any rate, I feel sure that he +found her "condimental" disposition useful as a counter-irritant +against the rising fever of his passion for Rona, +something which, though he kept it under astonishingly +good outward control, had been burning with increasing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" id="page46"></a>[pg 46]</span> +heat from the very first time he saw her. He confessed +that to me later. Curbed passion, like wounded pride, +if it cannot find outward expression, bites inward. +With all his despicable record well in mind, I still cannot +help thinking with a certain admiration of the game +bluff the rascal put up during those six or eight weeks +that the enchantment of Rona worked within him, of +the gay, devil-may-care smile that so successfully masked +the writhings of his racked spirit. First and last, there +was something about the fellow—I think it must have +been his flaming courage—that attracted me strongly in +spite of all that I knew, and all that I came to hold, +against him.</p> + +<p class="indent">Since Kai held no regular intercourse with any of +the surrounding islands, the news that the plague—a +pernicious form of bubonic—had broken out and was +making terrible ravages among both the bush and saltwater +niggers of the Solomons was received with no +especial interest on the beach, save perhaps by those who +were wont now and then to take a flyer in "black ivory." +The labour-recruiting trade—itself almost the only +medium through which the pest had been spread—was +hard hit of course; indeed, had there been anything like +adequate control of the pernicious traffic at this time, it +would have been suspended entirely until all of the +islands from which blacks were being taken, or to which +they were being returned, were able to present something +approximating clean bills of health.</p> + +<p class="indent">Since this was not done, however, the only check on +the movement of blacks—infected or otherwise—was the +possible reluctance of the masters of ships engaged in +the trade to take the risk of carrying them. And since +the average black-birding skipper lived as a matter of +course with a gun in one hand, his life in the other, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" id="page47"></a>[pg 47]</span> +the devil's tow-line between his teeth, it was hardly to +be expected that a little thing like the spectre of the +"Black Death" looming up on the windward horizon +was going to make him reef much canvas. The "Black +Death" in another form would ambush him sooner or +later anyhow. With niggers waiting to settle accounts +with him in every bay it was only a matter of time at +the best. Why worry about a few cases of a disease that +might not kill him even if he did get it? Heave in and +get under way! That was about the way the black-birder +looked at it, and he went right on scattering infected +niggers around the South Seas like a cook stirring +raisins into a pudding.</p> + +<p class="indent">But in the secluded and peaceful haven of Kai lagoon +they reckoned that they had little to fear from the +epidemic whatever happened elsewhere. Let the plague +and the heathen rage for all they cared. They were their +own quarantine officers, and, until the "Black Death" +ceased to stalk in the neighbouring islands, "No +Visitors" was the order of the day. All very simple and +efficient—in theory. Covered every possible contingency—just +about.</p> + +<p class="indent">I had spent several colourful days once—getting about +from island to island in the New Hebrides—with red-haired +old Mike Grogan on the <i>Cora Andrews</i>, and had +heard from that hard-fisted giant's own lips something +of the grim balances checked against his life in practically +every black-birding island of Melanesia. A black's +home bay holds a labour-recruiting skipper responsible +for the man's safe return at the end of his contract time, +and if he does not come back they figure that the only +fair way to even up the score is by killing the captain +of the ship which took him away. Grogan calculated +that he would have to be killed something like one hundred +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" id="page48"></a>[pg 48]</span> +and forty times to make a clean sheet of all the +accounts thus reckoned against him. He took a sort of +grim pleasure in running over the items of the various +tallies, but always ended with: "B'gorra, the devils'll +be gittin' me yit!" He was convinced that it would be +a "cutting-out" party that would do for him in the end, +and I have no doubt that he fought over in his mind +that final bloody showdown every night he stood the +"graveyard" watch alone. A sudden volley from the +bush, his whaleboat caught in a swarming rush of blacks, +his crew disabled or deserting, and himself alone battling +it out single-handed with the niggers at the last.... It +was something like that he expected for a grand finale, +and all the "fighting Irish" in him yearned for it as a +sunflower turns to the setting sun.</p> + +<p class="indent">"An' it ain't as if I won't be givin' the spalpeens a +run for their money, me bhoy," he had cried one afternoon, +clapping me on the shoulder where I swayed with +him to the plungings of the <i>Cora</i> in a nasty cross-swell. +"An', b'gorra, it's a way to die after a man's own heart—shootin' +an' clubbin' into a mob o' niggers out under +God's own sky!"</p> + +<p class="indent">Full as my mind was of other things on that accursed +day of which I am about to write, I could not +help but think of these words when they told me at +Jackson's that old Mike's fighting spirit had passed on +a windless midnight, and while Mike himself was jack-knifed +over the <i>Cora's</i> wheel, spitting blood and curses, +and imploring the devil to quit tying knots in his tortured +guts with a red-hot pitchfork.</p> + +<p class="indent">What little we heard of how things came to go wrong +with the <i>Cora</i> in the first place fell from the blackening +lips of her "Agent" (as the recruiter is called), who +managed to reach the beach of Kai in a whaleboat, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" id="page49"></a>[pg 49]</span> +who did not go into a delirium until a half-hour before +he died that evening. She was packed to the hatches with +"return" boys from Samoa. Although the plague had +been claiming a very heavy toll among the Melanesian +blacks of the coco plantations of Upolou, Grogan decided +to take a chance at making the Solomons with a +load which, on account of the risk, was offered him at +double rates. They would have made it all right, the +Agent thought, had not the southerly gale which blew +them a long way out of their course been followed by +many days of calms and alternating winds. Grogan's +softness in trying to doctor the first case of plague—instead +of following the customary practice, cruel but +effective, of shooting the infected black (doomed anyhow) +and throwing the body to the sharks—was probably +responsible for the ghastly sequel. The blacks fell +sick by dozens, until at last the Skipper—doubtless already +in the first throes of the disease himself—ordered +every living man except the surviving members of the +crew driven below and battened under hatch. Grogan +died that night and the mate the following morning.</p> + +<p class="indent">The only white man remaining was the Agent, and he, +obsessed with a life-long horror of being buried at sea, +steered the best course he could for the nearest island. +The <i>Cora</i>, luckily heading into the treacherous reef-beset +passage at the turn of the tide, dropped her hook in Kai +lagoon in the first flush of the dawning of the next day.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" id="page50"></a>[pg 50]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER V<br /> +<small>A SHIP OF DEATH</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">With</span> a good many days of my life to which +I cannot look back without a blush of shame, +I write deliberately when I say that the +one ushered in by the raucous grind of the <i>Cora +Andrews'</i> chain running through its hawse-pipe as +she let go anchor a couple of cables' lengths off Kai +beach, stands alone in the horror and the painfulness +of its memories. It is characteristic of all but the most +degraded of beach-combers—doubtless their general contempt +of life has much to do with it—that "once in a +while" they "can finish in style"; that, on a showdown, +they are usually there with the goods. I had +always felt sure that, in a pinch, I could force myself +to come through in the same way—the thought had +gilded many a slough of despond for me. Well, this day, +I had my chance and funked it—funked it clean, as a +yellow dog slinks from a fight with its tail between its +legs, as an underbred hunter refuses a jump. Oh yes, +I had an excuse. "Seeing green" is next thing to "seeing +yellow." Almost anyone knows that. But I had +thought that there was enough red blood left in me to +make it possible for me to take the bit in my teeth and +finish like a thoroughbred at the last. But there was +not. That was the thought which had made the ghastly +tragedy even more tragical to me, which made a mockery +of the triumph which I might otherwise have felt when, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" id="page51"></a>[pg 51]</span> +first Australia and then Europe, acclaimed me as the +greatest marine painter of the decade.</p> + +<p class="indent">For several days previous to the coming of the <i>Cora +Andrews</i> I had been slipping up pretty badly on my +"absinthe reform" program. It was largely the fault, I +think, of a positively infernal spell of weather. The +ozone-laden trade winds, falling light after a spell of low +barometer, had finally failed altogether. Kai was lapped +in sluggish moisture-saturated airs that clung like a wet +blanket. The Gargantuan popcorn-like piles of the trade +clouds were replaced by strata of miasmic mists which +awakened all the latent fevers in a man's body and +mind. The sea, slatily slick of surface, heaved in oily, +indolent smoothness, sliding over the reef without sound +or foam. The brooding, ominous sullenness was all-pervading, +oppressive with sinister suggestion.</p> + +<p class="indent">Everyone on the island was drinking heavily, and +mostly alone. No tipsy choruses boomed out from under +the sounding-board of Jackson's sheet-iron roof. Even +"Slant" Allen failed to appear for his wild end-of-the-afternoon +dashes up and down the beach. Rona dropped +in languidly one afternoon to say that Bell was tilting +the bottle more frequently than she had ever known him +to do before, and that for three days he had missed his +early morning plunge from the reef.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Too much walkee with Jo'nnee Walkah, Whitnee," +she punned in a feeble flicker of pleasantry. "I veh-ry +much worree along Bel-la."</p> + +<p class="indent">She needn't have worried, though. <i>He</i>, at least, had +the stuff in him for a proper finish.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was only to be expected that I should seek solace +in a time like this by snuggling closer than ever into the +enfolding arms of the "Green Lady." That fickle jade +was at her best—and her worst. Never had she winged +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" id="page52"></a>[pg 52]</span> +me to loftier pinnacles of sensuous delight; never had +she dropped me to profounder depths of horror and +despond. The night before the <i>Cora</i> came marked a new +"high"; also a new "low." I dropped like a plummet +straight from a pea-green grotto full of lilies of the +valley, maiden's hair ferns and ambrosia-breathed houri +to the fire-scorched cliffs ringing the mouth of the Bottomless +Pit. I knew that Pit of old. Most of the early +hours of my mornings for the last five years had been +spent in trying to keep from being pushed into it.</p> + +<p class="indent">But this time, though, it looked as if they were going +to get away with it. Failing to break my grip (I always +managed to hang on somehow), they had tried new +tactics. They were pushing in the side of the Pit itself +so as to carry me with it. I felt the relentless creeping +of the ledge on which I struggled to maintain precarious +footing. If I could only push back into the rock ... +through it ... out to the air! Nothing could stand +against the mighty heave I gave with my shoulders. +The cliff parted with a great rip-roar of rending, and I +reeled back, back, straight through—the pandanus siding +of my hut. An instant before a nigger had knocked off +the shackle of the <i>Cora's</i> anchor chain. The unchecked +run of forty-odd fathoms of rusty iron links through +a hawse-pipe is very like in sound to the rending of a +rocky cliff—that is, to a man in an absinthe nightmare.</p> + +<p class="indent">That violent awakening did not bring me straight back +to normal by any means. You never come out of the +"green horrors" that way, unless, of course, you fall into +water, or set fire to the house, or do something else that +calls for instant action. You usually come out by gradual +stages, each successive one marked by a shade more +of the earth-earthy than the last.</p> + +<p class="indent">In this instance my fall only changed the spirit of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" id="page53"></a>[pg 53]</span> +my nightmare. I was by no means out of the woods, +either. I had backed away from the Mouth of the Pit +all right, but what brought that Ship of Death—black +and sinister she was against the bloody redness of the +infernal sunrise—unless it was to take me there again? +I <i>knew</i> that it was a real ship. I <i>knew</i> those black +things festooned along its rails were real dead men. I +<i>knew</i> that the horrible reek which presently came pouring +in over the oily water to penetrate my contracted +nostrils was the real smell of rotting flesh. I <i>knew</i> that +I was looking out at Kai lagoon, and from the door of +my own hut. I <i>knew</i> these things, just as I <i>knew</i> it was +real blood I saw and tasted when I bit my finger to prove +that I knew them.</p> + +<p class="indent">But it was still as in a dream that I became aware of +an erratically rowed whaleboat pulling away from the +Death Ship and making for the beach. It was with an +agreeable sense of relief that I noted that it was apparently +heading for the quay rather than in my direction. +Drawing near, it sheered away from the weed-slippery +landing and went full-tilt for the beach. A man—a big +man, bare of legs and of chest, wearing only a red <i>sulu</i>—ran +down to meet it. It seemed no more than a perfectly +natural development of the ghastly pantomime +that the big man should raise a revolver and shoot one +of the black rowers when the latter jumped over the +gunwale of the whaleboat and started to bolt up the +beach. I saw the flash from the revolver, saw the fugitive +crumple and fall, and the sharp report, impacting +on the side of my sheet-iron rain-water tank, slammed +against my ear-drums with a shattering "whang."</p> + +<p class="indent">That close-at-hand shot had the effect of shocking me +back a notch or two more nearer normal; but, nerve-shattered +as I always was at the end of a night, it was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" id="page54"></a>[pg 54]</span> +something very akin to the abject terror that gripped me +as I backed away from the Brink of the Pit which now +impelled me to "back away" from the new menace. +Seizing my painting things from sheer force of habit, I +slunk off through the long early morning shadows of +the coco palm boles, not to stop until I came out upon +the broken coral of the steep-shelving leeward beach of +the island. It was as far as I could go without swimming.</p> + +<p class="indent">Here Laku, my Tonga boy, found me toward noon. +The coffee from the flask he brought was the first thing +to pass my lips since I had poured my last drink the +night before. It steadied me somewhat, but my nerves +still refused to react. The shock of the morning had +been too much for them. I realized that Kai had a +mighty knotty problem on its hands with that shipload +of dead and dying niggers in the lagoon (Laku had told +me it was the <i>Cora</i>, and something of what the trouble +was), and it took a lot of screwing before I got my +courage up to a point where I could force my reluctant +feet to carry me back to shoulder my share of the responsibilities.</p> + +<p class="indent">I was still streaking and dabbing at my canvas at +three o'clock, and it must have been nearly an hour later +before I packed up and started back toward the village. +I burned that bizarre rectangle of colour-slashed canvas +on the very first occasion (which was not until a day or +two later) that I had a chance to stand off and look at +it objectively. There was revealed in it too much of the +utter unmanliness which marked my conduct on this +most shameful day of my life to make it a pleasant thing +to have around. For me to have kept it would have +been like a man's framing and hanging the excoriation +of the judge who had sentenced him for some despicable +crime.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" id="page55"></a>[pg 55]</span> +What had transpired in the village up to the moment +of my return at the end of the afternoon I must set down +as I learned of it later. Everything considered, it seems +to me that Kai—with one or two notable exceptions—behaved +very creditably in an extremely trying emergency. +Awakened when the <i>Cora's</i> anchor was let go, a +number of men had run out to the beach, from where +their glasses quickly gave them a pretty good idea of the +state of affairs aboard the luckless black-birder. Then +they got together at Jackson's—the lot of them in their +pajamas or <i>sulus</i>, just as they had tumbled out of their +sleeping mats—to decide what was to be done. The majority +at first seemed inclined to stand by their predetermined +plan of shooting the first, and every man +from a plague-infested ship that tried to land on the +beach. But at this juncture Doc Wyndham, calling their +attention to the fact that a whaleboat had already put +away from the <i>Cora</i>, suggested that they wait and learn +just how things stood before starting off gunning.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'm with you as far as shooting any nigger that +tries to break quarantine goes," he said, "but I'm dam'd +if I'll stand by and see anyone take a pot shot at Mike +Grogan, or any other sick white man, for that matter. +Old Mike nursed me through a spell of 'black-water' once +at Port Darwin, and if he is in that boat I dope it it's +up to me to tote him home to my shack and do what I +can for him. If he can't clamber out I'm going to wade +in and carry him back to the beach, so you'll have to +shoot the two of us if you shoot at all. But I don't think +you will. I'm not asking any of you chaps to have anything +to do with the stunt. You needn't touch him. +I'll take him home and swear not to budge from there +till the thing's over one way or the other. After that +I'll put myself in a ten-day quarantine. Moreover, I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" id="page56"></a>[pg 56]</span> +won't be expecting attention from any white man or +nigger on the island in case the luck goes against me +and I catch the pest myself. It's my own little game +and I won't stand for any interfering in it."</p> + +<p class="indent">That was the gist of Doc Wyndham's remarks as +Jackson outlined them to me the next day. They met +with hearty assent from all of the dozen or more present, +except on the score of letting the Doc have the job all +to himself. He turned down every one of the volunteer +nurses, however, saying it was his own kettle of fish and +that he'd have to stew it in his own way. He even insisted +on meeting the boat alone, urging that there was +no use in multiplying the points of possible "plague +contact."</p> + +<p class="indent">So it must have been the distinguished surgeon from +Guy's that I saw shoot the bolting black that morning. +Had I continued to watch, instead of bolting myself +at that juncture, I would have seen him wade out, lift +a man tenderly from the stern-sheets of the whaleboat, +and start carrying the limp body up the beach to where +a spreading bread-fruit tree shaded the door of the +sheet-iron shack which he was wont humorously to refer +to as his "professional, social and domestic headquarters +for Melanesia." Following that, I would have seen a +bunch of motley-clad figures prance down and start menacing +the irresolute boat-pullers with flourished revolvers, +forcing the frightened blacks to back off and +begin splashing their wobbly way out to the <i>Cora</i>.</p> + +<p class="indent">Wyndham's conduct all through struck me as rather +fine, especially for a man who was a convict of three +continents and two hemispheres. Disappointed in finding +his friend Grogan in the whaleboat, on learning that +the latter and his mate were already dead, Doc just as +cheerfully set about paying to the Agent the debt he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" id="page57"></a>[pg 57]</span> +felt he owed to old Mike. Before entering his house, +he called to his girl—a saucy little Samoan named Melita, +who had gone right on sleeping through all the racket—ordering +her to make a hurried departure by the back +door and not to return until he sent for her. The Doc +was never a man to let sentiment interfere with business, +Jackson opined.</p> + +<p class="indent">Making the doomed man as comfortable as possible in +his own canvas folding bed, Wyndham deferred giving +an opiate until he had gained such information as he +could of how things were on the <i>Cora</i>. Then, after communicating +(from a safe distance) what he had learned +to a delegation from executive headquarters at Jackson's, +he nailed a red <i>sulu</i> to his front door as a danger +signal and disappeared behind the bars of his self-imposed +quarantine.</p> + +<p class="indent">I may as well state here that Wyndham—thanks, +doubtless, to the precautions which he, as a medical man, +would have known how to take—side-stepped the plague +completely, quite as completely, indeed, as he sidestepped +the Thursday Island customs authorities a year +or so later, when a half season's shipment of pearls from +Makua Reef, Limited, disappeared as into thin air.</p> + +<p class="indent">Of the information Wyndham gleaned from the Agent +before giving the latter a shot of morphine to relieve his +agony and mercifully hasten the inevitable end, the most +important as affecting Kai's action was that something +over a hundred blacks had been battened down in the +schooner's forecastle and 'midships hold for seventy-two +hours, with nothing but a couple of stubby wind-sails +feeding them air. The dead had all been cleared out +before this was done, but there were a lot of bad cases +among the living who were driven or thrown down the +hatches. By the stench, the Agent knew that some of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" id="page58"></a>[pg 58]</span> +these had already died; but that many still had life in +their bodies he judged by the unabated vigour of the +howling.</p> + +<p class="indent">The most reassuring news passed on by the dying +man was that Ranga-Ro, Grogan's gigantic Malay +Bo'sun, had remained in charge of the <i>Cora</i>, and that he +appeared to have the black crew (only three or four of +them, luckily, had succumbed to the plague so far) well +in hand. That brightened the outlook a good deal, for +what Kai had feared above all else was a general breakout +and stampede, which might inundate the island with +plague-infected niggers, crazy beyond all possibility of +control.</p> + +<p class="indent">Ranga, who claimed to have had at one time or another +every tropical disease on record, was—or believed +himself to be—a plague immune. He was not in the least +worried over the responsibilities that had fallen on him, +and could be counted upon, the Agent thought, to see +the game through. The only trouble was that he couldn't +navigate, so that if the <i>Cora</i> was going to be taken to a +port where any real relief could be obtained, she would +have to have at least one competent white officer. Would +Kai furnish that officer? was the question up before the +meeting called at Jackson's to decide what should be +done with the ill-fated black-birder.</p> + +<p class="indent">This was rather a larger assemblage than the one which +had gathered at dawn, called up by the rattle of the +<i>Cora's</i> anchor-chain. The latter was mostly made up of +the "inside push," "Jackson's Own," as they were +sometimes alluded to, and that they were a dead game +bunch of sports was attested by the way in which they +had volunteered in a body to nurse for Doc Wyndham. +The later and more representative meeting was hardly +up to the earlier one on the score of quality. There were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" id="page59"></a>[pg 59]</span> +a few out-and-out rotters on the island, and about the +worst of these was a typical Wooloofooloo larrikin from +Sydney, whose name I have forgotten. As foul of +tongue as of face, he was as sneaking and cowardly as +a wild Malaite pup reared in a black-birder's galley. +He it was who, with a smirk on his tattoo-defiled face, +got up and suggested that the simplest way out of the +difficulty was to "blow up an' burn the bloomin' 'ooker +w'ere she lies. Cook the bloody niggers to a frizzle, pleg +an' all." Give him a few sticks of dynamite and he'd +pull off the bally job himself.</p> + +<p class="indent">The leering wretch, in his eagerness, pushed right out +in front of gaunt-framed old Jackson, who was "presiding." +"Wi'out battin' a blinker," as he told me +later, that old Kalgoorlie outlaw took the proper and +necessary action. His straight-from-the-hip kick doubled +the miscreant up, breathless, speechless, upon the floor—the +only floor of sawed boards in all Kai. He rather +favoured that method when he had to throw a man out, +Jackson explained, on account of the convenient parcel +it made of him when lifted by the back of his belt.</p> + +<p class="indent">When Jackson called the meeting to order again and +explained what word Wyndham had sent as to the lay +of things on the <i>Cora</i>, "Froggy" Frontein, one of the +escapes from Noumea, his Gallic soul aflame, popped up +and volunteered to sail her to any non-French port in +the Pacific. That brought a cheer for "Froggy," but +the enthusiasm died down a bit when it transpired that +the only ships the gallant ex-counterfeiter had ever +boarded in his life were the steamer which deported him +from Marseilles and the cutter in which he—buried under +copra in its hold—had escaped from New Caledonia.</p> + +<p class="indent">More competent volunteers were not lacking, however, +and several of these were trying to urge their respective +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" id="page60"></a>[pg 60]</span> +claims at once when "Slant" Allen's magnetic glance +drew the eye of the chairman and he was given the floor.</p> + +<p class="indent">Calling several of the more insistent of the volunteers +by name, "Slant" asked if it had occurred to them that +the nearest port which had quarantine facilities equal to +handling more than a dozen cases of infectious disease +was in Australia—probably Townsville, but possibly +Brisbane. They admitted that they hadn't thought that +far ahead.</p> + +<p class="indent">"In that case," Allen cut in with, "it may be in order +for me to point out that there's not a one of the whole +mob of you young hopefuls that wouldn't be pinched +and clapped in the brig just as soon as they saw your face +and recollected what it was you sloped for in the first +place."</p> + +<p class="indent">That shot made some impression, though "Crimp" +Hanley seemed to think he had countered not uneffectively +when he asked: "Who in hell thinks he's going to +last long enough to get her there?"</p> + +<p class="indent">What "Slant" had got up to say, he went on without +deigning to engage the logical "Crimp" in argument, +was that there was one first-class sailor in Kai against +whom nothing was booked in Australia, a man, moreover, +who had been known to be looking for a command for +a number of months. He referred to Captain Bell, who, +he regretted to say, had not been summoned to their +meeting. If it was agreeable to those present, he would +be glad to wait upon Captain Bell and acquaint him with +the facts in connection with the emergency which confronted +them all. In the event that Captain Bell should +see fit to assert his claim to this place of honour, as he +had no doubt would be the case, he—"Slant"—was in +favour of giving that claim precedence over all others, +both because of Captain Bell's well-known ability as a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" id="page61"></a>[pg 61]</span> +navigator (his late slip, they would all admit, was due to +circumstances quite beyond his control), and because he +was the only competent man available who would not +have to step out of the frying pan into the fire on making +port in Australia. What was more, in case Captain Bell +felt that he needed a mate for a voyage which could +not but be beset with much danger and many difficulties, +he—"Slant"—wished to take the occasion to put in his +claim for that berth. He had been in bad in Sydney, he +had to admit, but it was nothing very serious, and he +felt assured that, in a pinch, there were certain influences +which could be counted upon to get him clear. No +fear that he would not be seen in the Islands again in +due course.</p> + +<p class="indent">Considering what "Slant" was really driving at, +you'll have to admit that this was put with consummate +adroitness. The meeting voted by acclamation to allow +him to carry out his suggestion, adjourning in the meantime +to await developments. It was significant, in the +light of what transpired later, that Allen flatly refused +the offer of Jackson and two or three others to +go along to Bell's with him and "make a delegation +of it."</p> + +<p class="indent">No suspicion was aroused by the fact that Allen, on +the way to Bell's shack, stopped in at his own for five +or ten minutes. Indeed, nothing that he did at any time +awakened anybody's suspicions—among the beach push, +I mean.</p> + +<p class="indent">When "Slant" came out of Bell's at the end of half +an hour, he was accompanied by the American, the latter +apparently leaning heavily on the Australian's shoulder. +This occasioned little surprise, as Bell, who had hardly +been seen for the last three days, was believed to have +been drinking heavily. Instead of returning round the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" id="page62"></a>[pg 62]</span> +curve of the beach to report at Jackson's, as it had been +assumed he would, "Slant" led the way to a little +dugout canoe lying in the shade of the coco palms in +front of Bell's and started pulling it down to the water's +edge. When it was seen that the slender Australian +was doing most of the tugging, while the big American +seemed to be blundering about to small purpose, it was +remarked at Jackson's that Bell, for the first time since +he hit the beach of Kai, appeared to have stowed enough +booze to submerge his "Plimsol" and affect his trim. +At the same time it was admitted that the Yankee was +a wonderful "weight-carrier"—nothing like him ever +seen in the Islands. It was thus that they mixed nautical +and racing idiom at Jackson's Sporting Club.</p> + +<p class="indent">When the little canoe was finally launched, Bell, +helped by Allen, stumbled forward and slithered down +in the bow. The Australian plied his paddle from the +stern. It was remarked that the dugout's progress was +very slow, but "Slant's" leisurely paddling was attributed +to the care he had to take on account of the +trim Bell's lopsided sprawl gave the cranky craft.</p> + +<p class="indent">By the time the canoe slid in alongside the <i>Cora</i>, Bell +appeared to have collapsed completely. Lifting carefully +by the shoulders, Allen was seen to raise the inert body +in the bow enough for a hulking yellow giant—easily +recognizable as the lusty Ranga-Ro—to throw a mighty +arm around its waist. Then, with his other arm looped +round a stanchion, he swung his burden high above the +rail and into the arms of two of the black crew. Thereafter +nothing was seen of the <i>Cora's</i> new skipper for an +hour or more.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Doosed smart loadin'," was Jackson's laconic comment +on the teamwork Allen and Ranga had displayed +in hoisting Bell's husky frame out of a wobbling canoe +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" id="page63"></a>[pg 63]</span> +and up over the <i>Cora's</i> four feet of freeboard topped by +five strands of "nigger wire."</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen did not go aboard, but continued to lie alongside +for ten or fifteen minutes, evidently giving extended +orders to the Malay bos'n. Immediately the +canoe pushed off, great activity was observable among the +crew, who were evidently rushing preparations for getting +under way before the ebb began to race through the +passage.</p> + +<p class="indent">The rate at which Allen paddled back to the beach +was in marked contrast to his leisurely progress on the +way out. Grounding the canoe on the beach near where +it had been launched, he made directly for the door of +Bell's house and bolted inside. Reappearing almost immediately, +he came on along the beach at a more deliberate +gait.</p> + +<p class="indent">At Jackson's he told them that Bell had jumped at +the chance of taking the <i>Cora</i> to Townsville.... Said +it might be the means of getting his master's certificate +back in case he pulled it off all right. But he—"Slant"—couldn't +allow a white man to tackle a job like that +alone. He had only landed to pick up his kit and a few +things Bell wanted. He was going to get back aboard the +<i>Cora</i> before they began to shorten in. It was going to +be a ticklish job, fetching the passage from where she +lay in those fluky airs.</p> + +<p class="indent">Leaving Jackson's, Allen went to his own (or rather +"Quill" Partington's) house, where, according to what +I heard from Mary Regan a couple of days later, he took +several drinks but did not do anything toward throwing +his things together. A half-hour later he was seen hurrying +along the beach to Bell's again, and when he came +out from there it was in the company of a girl—plainly +the "Peacock." Paddled by a third party, who came +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" id="page64"></a>[pg 64]</span> +upon the scene at this juncture, these two went off to +the schooner, boarding her just as she filled away on the +first tack of the almost dead beat to the entrance of the +narrow seaward passage. For all they knew on the +beach, Allen was carrying out his program (with the +little incidental of Rona—doubtless taken along at the +last moment by way of a surprise for Bell—thrown in), +just as he had outlined it to them. They were not hurt +by his failure to say good-bye. They were not strong +for the gentler amenities in the Islands, anyhow.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" id="page65"></a>[pg 65]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VI<br /> +<small>COMPULSORY VOLUNTEERING</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">As</span> a matter of fact, however, there had been a very +considerable slip-up in "Slant's" carefully doped +slate. That was plain from a number of little +things which sunk into even my absinthe-addled brain in +the few minutes I spent in his and Rona's company while +paddling them off to the <i>Cora</i>. How staggering a slip-up +it must have been for him I was not able to figure until +I got my nerves under control the following day.</p> + +<p class="indent">I was still far from pulled together when I came back +to the village after my day of hiding (for that's what it +amounted to) on the other side of the island. With +my head twanging like an overstrung banjo, I was +feverishly anxious to get home and seek relief in the +only thing I knew would relax the tension of my breaking +nerves. I had told Laku to "putem littl' fella pickaninny +in rock-a-bye belonga him" just as soon as he got +back to the shack. This was a long-standing joke between +us, and I knew that he would interpret aright this +<i>bêche-de-mer</i> order to "put the baby in its cradle" as +a strict injunction to lay a certain long green bottle in +a little basket of porous coco husk, which, dampened +and hung in a draught, answered the purpose of a crude +refrigerator. The vision of the slender green trickle I +should shortly pour from the dewy fresh lip of that bottle +was drawing me on as the thought of the oasis with its +fountain draws the thirsting desert traveller.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" id="page66"></a>[pg 66]</span> +Between horrors fancied and real—from my struggle +at the mouth of the Bottomless Pit to the coming of the +Ship of Death—my nerves had suffered a number of +trying shocks since the dawning of that accursed day; +but the one that came nearest to bowling me over I had +still to receive. I had <i>known</i> there was a Bottomless Pit; +I had <i>known</i> there was a Death Ship; I had <i>known</i> they +were shooting niggers on the beach. As each of these +horrors was projected upon my vision in turn I had accepted +their reality as a matter of course. Didn't I see +them with my own eyes? Didn't I continue to see them +after I had bitten my finger? But <i>Rona, with her arm +and her peacock shawl thrown over "Slant" Allen's +shoulder, coming out of Bell's house</i>.... No, that +wouldn't do.... That was one thing they couldn't +put over on me. My eyes must be playing tricks on my +brain. I must be in even worse shape than I thought. +Never before had my fancy conjured up a thing so utterly, +impossibly absurd. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, +I pulled up and started kicking the shin of one foot with +the toe of the other. That was another little trick I had +of proving whether or not I saw what I "saw."</p> + +<p class="indent">At the clink of the broken coral under my shuffling +feet the girl turned her head in my direction, but, far +from releasing "Slant's" neck from her embrace, she +only drew the lanky Australian closer with her right +arm, while with her left she beckoned me imperiously.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Whitnee, come alonga this side, washy-washy!" +Her thin clear voice cut the air like the swish of a +rapier.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was, strangely enough, the fact that she lapsed into +the vulgarest of <i>bêche-de-mer</i>, rather than the eagerness +of her gesture, that drove home to my wandering wits +the fact that Rona was confronted with difficulties, that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" id="page67"></a>[pg 67]</span> +she needed help. Verging on nervous and physical collapse +as I was (and as I knew I would continue to be +until I had gulped my first steadying draught from the +cool green bottle), the realization that something concrete +was demanded brought me instantly out of the +half-trance in which I had walked since dawn. Still a +sorry enough specimen, I was at least sufficiently in hand +not to need any more finger-bitings or shin-kickings to +know the difference between what seemed real and what +was really real. Letting my easel go one way and my +paint box the other, I hastened forward in answer to +Rona's summons.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Katchem washy-washy one piecee boat," Rona began +as I came up, her heaving breast, flushed face and flashing +eyes revealing the emotion that held her in its +grip.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Man-man; my word, what name this fella thing you +do?" I interrupted between breaths, blurting mixed +<i>pidgin</i> and <i>bêche-de-mer</i> English of a brand to match +the vile blend the girl had discharged at me.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I too much cross this fella 'Slan','" she started to +explain. "Him too much—"</p> + +<p class="indent">"You'd think she was cross with me, Whitney, if you +could see the way she's sticking me in the neck with her +hat pin," Allen cut in, the half-sheepish, half-amused +grin he had worn from the first broadening as he spoke.</p> + +<p class="indent">That was the first "straight" English to be spoken, +and the words had the effect of reminding Rona that +she had been speaking nothing but low jargon from the +outset. For weeks she had been taking the greatest pains +to avoid both of the weird volapuks in all her chats with +me. Pulling herself together with an effort, she strove +again to be a purist.</p> + +<p class="indent">"'Scuse me, Whit-nee," she chirruped, paying +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" id="page68"></a>[pg 68]</span> +"Slant" for his sally with a prod that made him duck +like a prize-fighter avoiding a straight-arm punch; +"'scuse me, but I'm veh-ry mad. This bloody boundah +he put <i>kor-klee</i> in Bel-la's drink. He take Bel-la to +schoonah. Now we all go off to schoonah. If Bel-la he +dead, then I keel this boundah, 'Slan'.' You will do us +the paddl'?—ple-ese, Whit-nee."</p> + +<p class="indent">There was a deal more that I would fain have been +enlightened about, but my brain was clear enough now +to understand the urgent necessity of getting off to the +<i>Cora</i> without delay. A drugged man (or a poisoned +one—it was not until later that I learned how that +strange essence of the wild Papuan fig might be expected +to act) on a plague-infested black-birder looked like just +about the last word in hopelessness; but (I told myself) +if there was anything I could do for my friend, it was +up to me to try to do it. Rona seemed to have some sort +of plan in her head, though just what she was taking +Allen along for I didn't quite twig at the moment.</p> + +<p class="indent">The funny part of it was that the Australian didn't +seem particularly averse from going off to the schooner. +Indeed, it was he who cut in to call Rona's attention to +the fact that they were rushing preparations on the +<i>Cora</i> for getting under way, adding: "If you don't want +to be left at the post I might suggest you whip up a +bit." Even as he spoke the throbbing wail of a chantey +came to our ears across the water, and I could just make +out the blur of motion on the forecastle where a knot of +niggers was circling round the capstan.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Washy-washy! Quick! quick! Whit-nee," implored +Rona, leading the way, with Allen's head still in the +crook of her arm, to the canoe; "we must make the great +hur-ee."</p> + +<p class="indent">Luckily, the dugout, although Allen had left it pulled +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" id="page69"></a>[pg 69]</span> +well up on the beach when he landed, was half awash +through the rising of the tide, now just about to ebb. I +launched it without difficulty. Still with her knife at +"Slant's" neck, Rona made him enter ahead of her and +crouch in the bottom of the canoe, well forward, while +she seated herself on the sinnet-wrapped thwart immediately +behind his hunched shoulders. When the unabashed +rascal coolly leaned back and started to make +himself comfortable with an arm thrown over her knee, +the girl stiffened with a start of repulsion. It was more +than a prick she gave him this time, for I saw the sudden +swell of his jaw muscles wipe out the lines of his grin +as his teeth set over a repressed oath.</p> + +<p class="indent">Pushing off, I slid gingerly along the port weatherboard +until the canoe heeled just enough to bring a +gaping hole in the starboard bow clear of the water that +started to pour through it, and began to paddle cautiously +inside the outrigger, the only place I could get at +from where I sat. Our progress was, of course, slow as +to speed and wobbly as to direction. Even at that, a +good deal of water kept slopping in, and I couldn't blame +Allen, who was sitting in it, for asking Rona if she +minded if he baled a bit with his sun-helmet.</p> + +<p class="indent">Her only reply was another prod with the needlepointed +<i>kris</i>. (I knew it was the little Jolo dagger, for +I had seen it as she adjusted her shawl on sitting down). +"Hur-ee, Whit-nee," she urged, quiveringly tense, and +continued to keep her flaming gaze riveted on the +schooner, where the latter, foot by foot, was moving up +on her shortening chain.</p> + +<p class="indent">About halfway out Rona gave a start and a glad little +cry. "I see Bel-la," she laughed. "He stand up by +wheel. By jingo, he look—he look like he lick his weight +in wile cats!"</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" id="page70"></a>[pg 70]</span> +That had been the big Southerner's favourite expression +when, glowing with the reaction from his deep, +eye-opening dive from the reef, he would come prancing +back to his door of a morning. The sight of his bare +muscular torso, white as marble against the dingy folds +of the half-hoisted mainsail, must have called up in the +girl's mind the picture of Bell breezing in from his bath, +and brought the tersely quaint phrase to her lips. As a +matter of fact, there was no saying at that distance <i>how</i> +Bell looked; but it was good to see him on his feet, at +any rate. Probably Rona had been mistaken about the +poisoning.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I told you he was all right," Allen remarked drily, +shifting a few inches to get clear of the water that was +beginning to swish about his knees. "He was drunk—dead +drunk; that's all. He began to buck up an hour +ago. Looked through my glass and saw them dousing +him with water. First thing he did was to take a drink +(plenty of it aboard)—saw him tilt the bottle. Then +he must have made them open up the hatches. There's +more than the crew lining the rail there for'ard; besides—you +don't think the slop-chute from the galley spills +out the bait that's drawing those black fins, do you? I +won't need to tell you they don't belong to chambered +nautili out for an afternoon sail. There's a man-eating +shark under every one of them. Can I lend you my +binoculars?"</p> + +<p class="indent">He started to slip the strap of the powerful racing +glasses over his neck, but desisted when Rona refused to +clear the way by lifting the point of her dagger. Save +for maintaining that one important little point of contact, +she ignored him completely, and "Slant" seemed +rather to resent the latter more than the former.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Well, if you don't want to use it, I suppose you won't +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" id="page71"></a>[pg 71]</span> +mind if I have a bit of a look-see," he went on in half-assumed +petulance. Rona replied with the usual prod, +but interposed no further objection when he raised and +began focussing the glasses.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Clubbing niggers on the fo'c'sl'," he commented +presently, as signs of commotion were visible forward. +"Skipper don't want 'em too thick on deck while he's +getting under way, most likely."</p> + +<p class="indent">Then, a minute later: "Looks like you'll need an ice-breaker +to clear a passage through those sharks, Whitney; +or perhaps we can walk across their backs from the +edge of the jam. Seem to be thick enough to give good +solid footing."</p> + +<p class="indent">And again, shortly: "Chain almost straight-up-and-down, +Whitney. Mudhook going to break out in a +couple of minutes. Can't accelerate that 'long, long +pull' of yours, can you? Looks as if they weren't planning +to wait for us."</p> + +<p class="indent">It was a gruesome passage, that last hundred yards. +The sharks were hardly as thick as Allen's picturesque +hyperbole might have led one to believe, but there were +undoubtedly more than a score of triangular dorsals +slashing about in swift circles. But the sharks, for the +most part, gave us a good berth. It was the things that +<i>didn't</i> get out of the way that came near to flooring me +at the last—black, bloated bodies, floating face down, like +logs awash, till the canoe struck them, then to roll shudderingly +over and sweep you with the sightless gaze of +their wide, staring eyes as you fended with the paddle. +Rona, her flashing glances running back and forth over +the schooner (following Bell, who appeared to be lending +a hand now and then on sheet or halyard), seemed not +to see the floating horrors around us. Allen's steely +eyes met the corpses stare for stare, and looked them +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" id="page72"></a>[pg 72]</span> +down. But upon me the horrors which passed the others +by descended with full force. How I kept going is more +than I can guess. But I did it. At last the loom of the +<i>Cora's</i> blistered starboard quarter cut off the seaward +view, and I steadied the dugout in close to the upper +line of her weed-foul copper sheathing.</p> + +<p class="indent">Apparently no notice whatever had been taken of us +up to this time. Short-handed as he was, Bell was +doubtless too busy to keep a lookout, while to the few +niggers watching us through the wire the sight of a dugout +carrying "two fella white marsters and one fella +Mary" was of indifferent interest. All they cared about +was getting away from the Death Ship, and they didn't +need to be told that this "pickaninny boat" hadn't come +to help forward their desires in that direction. Besides, +the guard walking up and down behind them with +a Lee-Enfield over his black shoulder had undoubtedly +given them to understand that the first one to start over +the side would be shot.</p> + +<p class="indent">It must have been the guard who reported us finally. +Burning with impatience, Rona was just prodding up +Allen and ordering him to clamber aboard and tell +"Mistah Bell" she wanted to speak to him, when I heard +the shout of "'Vast heavin'!" ring out, and presently +a familiar tousled head was poked over the top of the +barbed wire. (I should explain, perhaps, that three or +four strands of "nigger wire" are run all the way round +the rail of every labour-recruiting ship. This is done +with a double purpose—to make it difficult for the +blacks aboard to bolt, should the spirit move them, and +to serve as a partial protection while at anchor against +the always imminent attacks of the treacherous shore +natives.)</p> + +<p class="indent">There was a look in Bell's face I had never seen there +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" id="page73"></a>[pg 73]</span> +before. The old familiar furrows of dissipation showed +deep around the mouth, but if he had been drinking +heavily, there was nothing to indicate it. What struck +me at once was his air of determination—I might almost +say exaltation. His head was held high, his shoulders +were thrown back, and he might have been treading the +deck of a battle-ship as he swung up to the rail. Everything +about him betokened the man who has taken a +great resolve, and means to see it through if it kills +him.</p> + +<p class="indent">Although I had heard no word of it up to that moment, +I understood at once that Bell had taken command +of the schooner, that he was going to try to sail her to +some port where the plague-stricken blacks could be +given medical attention and kept under control. It was +like Bell to take on a job like that, I said to myself; but +he would do it as a matter of course. It would never +occur to him that there was any alternative, just as with +an order in the Navy. There must be something more to +account for that air of high resolve.... I couldn't +help thinking that, and I was right. He let out what it +was shortly.</p> + +<p class="indent">"It's right nice of you to come off to say good-bye, +honey—and of you, too, Whitney," Bell called down +genially; "but, as we'ah not quite what you'd call fixed +fo' cawlahs, you'd bettah do it from wheah you a'. You, +Mistah Allen, if you have fin'ly made up youah mind in +the mattah of signin' up for the voyage, I reckon we can +find accommodation fo' you. But fust, let me say that +if you've got any mo' of that dope you put in my whisky +stowed about youah puson, you'd best scuppah it befo' +you climb abo'd. I doan quite twig what you did it fo', +unless it was to dodge out of goin' yo'self, afta you had +promised to help me see the job through. But now, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page74" id="page74"></a>[pg 74]</span> +seein' you've come off of youah own free will, I reckon +I can fo'get that lil' slip, providin' it ain't repeated."</p> + +<p class="indent">Although Rona could hardly have known the exact +meaning of "free will," she caught the drift of Bell's +remarks readily enough. "This rotten boundah" +(bounder was the worst name she knew to call a man in +"pure" English) "not come himself," the girl cut in +shrilly, speaking for the first time. "I fetch him. See!" +and she threw back the folds of the peacock shawl to +reveal the bright wavy blade of her little <i>kris</i> boring into +the hollow between Allen's right shoulder-blade and the +corded column of his sinewy neck.</p> + +<p class="indent">"From the reef I see you an' this fella 'Slan''" +(Allen's shoulder quivered under her designative prod) +"go off to schoonah in boat," Rona went on, avoiding as +well as she could in her excitement the jargons she knew +Bell disliked so much. "Bime-by I see 'Slan'' come +back—you stop schoonah. When I go home I smell'em +<i>kor-klee</i>. You no sabe <i>kor-klee</i>, Bel-la. I sabe him too +much long time. I smell <i>kor-klee</i> in one glass—not in +othah. Pu-retty soon this boundah 'Slan'' come house. +He say: 'Bel-la go off in schoonah. Now I stop with you +all time!' Then I sabe what for <i>kor-klee</i> veh-ry queeck. +So I katch'em this fella by neck an' fetch'm off schoonah. +I say myself: 'If Bel-la dead, I keel this boundah; if +Bel-la not dead, <i>he</i> keel him.' Heah he is, Bel-la—you +fix him pu-lenty. Then we go home-side."</p> + +<p class="indent">"So that's what upset the appl'-ca't?" There was +nothing of the wrath of the jealous male in Bell's deep, +chesty laugh. "Well, I'm not blamin' Mistah Allen fo' +fallin' in love with you, honey. No propah man could +quite help doin' that, as I see it. Just the same, I can't +quite approve of his way of goin' about it, no' the occasion +he took fo' it, eethah. So you brought him off fo' +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" id="page75"></a>[pg 75]</span> +me to execute, honey. That's right rich. Youah a +brick, you shuah a'. But I won't be killin' him, honey—no, +hahdly that. I'm just goin' to sign him on as +Fust Mate of the <i>Cora Andrews</i>, just as he 'lowed he do +at the beginnin'. Of co'se I won't be goin' home with +you, honey. Doan you see I'm in command of this heah +ship?"</p> + +<p class="indent">A sudden shiver shook Rona's tense frame at those +last words. Half rising, she started to speak, but Bell +cut her short with lifted hand and went on himself.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Mistah Allen," he said, addressing himself now to +the huddled figure in the bottom of the canoe; "I said +I was goin' to sign you on an' take you with me. Let +me qualify those wuds just a trifle. I'll pumit you to +go if you'll agree in advance to my tums. I might explain +that theah's two dif'rent views in the mattah of +the best way of avoidin' catchin' the pleg. One is, that +you must keep strictly soba—straight teetotal; the otha—diametrically +opposed to the fust—is that you must +keep dead drunk—pif'ucated. Now I reckon that it's +goin' to take at least one white man to sail this hookah +all the way to Australyuh; that is to say, at least one +white man must steah cleah of the pleg fo' the entahprise +to be crowned with success. But as theah ain't +no suah data as to which is the safe an' sutin way to +'complish this, I figa theah's nothin' else to do but sta't +with two white men, and let one of 'em try the fust +purscripshun an' the otha the second.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Now (tho' I must admit it's a bit high-handed on +my pa't) I've already picked the one I'm goin' to take; +so, if you elect to sign on, Mistah Allen, you'll have to +take the otha. Theah's a dozen cases of whisky abo'd—not +Jawny Wakah, to be suah, but still fayah to middlin' +cawn jooce—an' I had to toss off a tumblah o' two of it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" id="page76"></a>[pg 76]</span> +as an antidote fo' that dream-provokin' dope you wished +onto me. But"—Bell's head was up and his shoulders +back again—"<i>that's the last</i>." His square jaw snapped +shut on the words like a sprung wolf-trap. Now I understood. +<i>That</i> was his Great Resolve.</p> + +<p class="indent">Bell paused, and in the waiting silence I became +aware for the first time of the low rumble of groaning +from the bowels of the ship.</p> + +<p class="indent">"So you'll see, Mistah Allen"—the corners of his +mouth relaxed into a smile as Bell resumed—"that since +the Skippah's plumped to try the 'soba man' preventative, +theah's nothin' left for the Mate to do but to fight +off the pleg by the 'drunk man' method. Theah'll only +be two of us, you see, an' it's theahfo' up to us to hedge +ouah bets an' play safe. But you won't be havin' to +go if you ain't hankerin' after it. I'm not (in spite of +what the way you've been 'shanghaied' by—by Miss +Rona might lead you to think) runnin' a press-gang. +It's entiahly up to you as to whethah o' not you want +to sail as the drunken Mate of the soba Skippah of a +black-birdah full of pleg-rotten niggahs. You see, Mistah +Allen"—the whimsical grin broadened—"you see +I'm not tryin' to luah you on by paintin' the picture any +brightah than it is. 'Drunk Mate of a soba Skippah'—do +you get that?"</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen made no reply, that is, not directly. Raising +his hand to fend the expected prod from Rona, he +wriggled halfway round and started to speak to me, +where, in the stern, I still paddled the canoe gently +against the turning tide and held it close alongside the +schooner. For an instant I was puzzled with the look +on the side-face he presented, but almost at once saw +the reason for it. For the first time in my recollection +the thin upper lip was uncurled by its mocking smile. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page77" id="page77"></a>[pg 77]</span> +By that, I thought I could gauge something of the extent +of his slip-up. Yet—if I could have read the man's +mind—I would have known that it was something even +deeper than the wreck of personal hopes that had sobered +"Slant" Allen. What it was I learned later.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Whitney," he began, the words coming huskily from +the dryness of his throat; "I don't dope a man's +chances for finishing inside the distance flag in this little +Handicap of Captain Bell's as better than a hundred to +one. That's long odds to be on the short end of when +a man's life is his stake. I don't give a damn about my +life. Anyone will tell you that. I've thrown it into +the pool on worse than a hundred-to-one shot a good +many times before this. But—well, I'd rather appreciate +it if—if you could see fit to make a point of not +telling my friends on the beach that—that I had any +help in—in volunteering—volunteering to lend Captain +Bell a hand in getting this hooker on her way."</p> + +<p class="indent">Rona, sensing that her responsibilities, so far as Allen +was concerned, were at an end, raised the <i>kris</i> from his +neck and thrust it into the knot of her <i>sulu</i>. The Australian +lifted himself lightly to his feet and looked Bell +straight between the eyes. "Lead me to your whisky," +he said in a steadied voice.... "By Gawd, I need +it!"</p> + +<p class="indent">Poising an instant on the middle of a forward thwart +of the canoe, he sprang to the rail, clambered smartly +to the top strand of the barbed wire, and swung lightly +down to the deck on the main backstay.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was at this juncture that I went through the feeble +motions of trying to act the part of a man myself. I +pointed out to Bell that I had knocked about on yachts +a good deal, and, while I couldn't claim to be much of a +hand with niggers, was probably as good a navigator +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page78" id="page78"></a>[pg 78]</span> +as Allen was. I also said something about three men +standing a better chance than two of pulling off the +job, and even added, half jocularly, that I was about +ready to go to Australia anyway, as I had had word +that an exhibition of my pictures was due to open in +Sydney in a fortnight. I only hope my words didn't +sound as hollow to Bell as they did to me—for they were +the last ones I was ever to speak to him.</p> + +<p class="indent">Bell's gentlemanliness—nay, rather, his gentleness—came +home to me more in what he refrained from saying +in his reply than in what he said. He did <i>not</i> say that +he had no absinthe aboard, and that, as a consequence, +I would be only more useless and undependable than if +he had. He did <i>not</i> say that his hands would be full +enough looking after crazy niggers without having a +crazy white man to keep an eye on. He even refrained +from recalling to my mind a story I had told him of a +French official in New Caledonia whose absinthe supply +had run out while he was at an isolated post, and who, +unable to stand the deprivation to the end of the three-days' +run in to Noumea in a trading cutter, had taken +a header over the side almost in sight of port—and +relief.</p> + +<p class="indent">All he <i>did</i> say was: "Nonsense, ol' man.... Quite +out of the question.... Nothin' doin'." Then, as +though to soften the curtness of his refusal: +"'Twouldn't be propa, Whitney, to set a man that can +slap colour on canvas like you can to herdin' sick niggas. +Besides, I'm countin' on you to stick 'roun' Kai an' be +a sort o' fatha an' motha' to Rona while I'm gone. +Youah the only man on the island I'd ca'ah to trust with +that job."</p> + +<p class="indent">There was nothing more to be said after that, I told +myself; nothing more to be done. I gave up limply and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" id="page79"></a>[pg 79]</span> +relapsed into wondering how long it would take me to +paddle Rona ashore and traverse the quarter of a mile +of coral clinkers between the place where she would land +and the long green bottle cooling in its breeze-swept +swing beneath my coco leaf jalousies.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page80" id="page80"></a>[pg 80]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VII<br /> +<small>RONA COMES ABOARD</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Well,</span> I still think I was right on the score of +the futility of further words. Nothing more +that I could have <i>said</i> would have changed the +situation; but was there nothing more that I could have +<i>done</i>? Rona answered that question, so far as she herself +was concerned, then and there, though hardly in a +way that I had the wit or the will to profit by.</p> + +<p class="indent">Bell's answer to the girl's anxious appeal that she be +allowed to join him had been no less brusque and decided +than that he had made to mine. "Sorry, honey. +No 'commodations fo' ladies this voyage. You wun't intended +to nu'se niggas, anyhow. Can't be done, honey." +Then, to me: "Time to be shovin' off now, Whitney. +Tide's already on the tu'n. Right sorry to have to +hurry you-all this way." Not a word of farewell.... +Navy training would not down.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Bel-la, leesten to me!" There was more threat than +entreaty in Rona's voice now. Beyond doubt, he had +never crossed her before. That she was hurt and angry +showed in every line of her tense figure, as she balanced +precariously with her left foot on the outrigger and her +right on the port weatherboard. "Bel-la, by crackee, I +say I go with you! If you let me come on schoona, all +good. If you say no, by crackee, I—I sweem! I sweem +afta you. You know I good sweema, Bel-la."</p> + +<p class="indent">Swim! I knew the girl well enough to know it was +not a bluff, and Bell must have known even better. I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page81" id="page81"></a>[pg 81]</span> +had heard him speak many a time of her absolute lack of +fear. Also, although at that moment his imagination +was not quickened (as mine was) by the drunken roll +a black cadaver under the counter gave as a questing +nose pushed into it from below, he must have known +what shrift a swimmer would have in those shark-infested +waters.</p> + +<p class="indent">Bell's mouth twitched at her words (I could just see +his head and shoulders where he conned ship with a foot +on the starboard rail and a hand in the shrouds of the +mainmast), but he made no reply. Doubtless he counted +on my doing what I could to fish her out before anything +happened. Sweeping his eye fore and aft, he noted +how the turning tide had swung the schooner so that she +headed directly away from the passage, with the fluky +puffs of the freshening trade wind coming over her port +quarter. Then, cautioning the men standing by at the +fore and main sheets to "take in sma't" as she gathered +way, he bellowed the order to "Heave away!"</p> + +<p class="indent">The ululant surge of the <i>bêche-de-mer</i> anchor chantey +floated aft as the blacks resumed their rhythmic tramp +around the capstan.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>What name you b'longa?</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>What name you b'longa?</i></span><br /> +<span class="i4"><i>You Mary come catch'm ride.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>What name you b'longa?</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Come hear my songa—</i></span><br /> +<span class="i4"><i>I take you to Sydney-side.</i>"</span><br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="indent">I have often wondered if the frank invitation in the +swinging lines might not have been the inspiration of +Rona's astonishing action.</p> + +<p class="indent">The obligato of the incoming chain grinding through +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page82" id="page82"></a>[pg 82]</span> +the hawse-pipe had accompanied the chantey for only a +stave or two, when Allen's clear, ringing voice (he had +not needed to be told where a mate belonged when a +ship was getting under way) announced from the forecastle: +"Anchor broken out, sir!"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Walk lively! Get catted 'fore she hits the passage!" +Bell roared back, anxious lest the great length +of chain still out would make trouble where the lagoon +shoaled at its seaward entrance. A moment later he +came aft and relieved the man at the wheel, ordering +the latter to stand by to keep the mainsheet from fouling +the nigger wire. It was the gigantic Malay, Ranga-Ro, +bulking mightily against the purpling eastern twilight +sky, who responded with a deep-rumbling "Ay, ay, su!" +and sprang to the starboard rail to clear the sagging +lines running back from the unstable-minded main +boom. Then the amazing thing befell.</p> + +<p class="indent">As the schooner gathered way and began gliding ahead +under the impulse of the half-filled mainsail, Rona had +crouched as though for a spring at the towing whaleboat. +The painter of the latter, however, made fast on the port +side of the taffrail, brought the yawning double-ender +too far away for anything but a creature with wings to +bridge the gap. Seeing it was impossible to jump to +the whaleboat, she straightened up again, swaying undulantly +as the dugout bobbed about in the gently heaving +wake of the schooner.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Bel-la, I come!" There was more of anger than +despair in that steel-clear cry; more indignation than +resignation in the hair-trigger poise of the reed-slender +figure. The instant that she hesitated on the chance +that this final threat might soften Bell's resolve was all +that prevented what at best could not have been other +than a nasty mess for the both of us. There was no +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page83" id="page83"></a>[pg 83]</span> +possible chance for me to intercept her before she +jumped, and, once in the water, I knew she was quite +equal to upsetting the canoe rather than be dragged +back into it. As for help from the schooner—Bell had +determined upon his course, and his eyes, like his mind, +were directed ahead, not astern.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was Ranga-Ro (deftly fending the slack of the +mainsheet from the nigger wire), not Bell, who turned +at the sound of Rona's cry. Whether or not he had +glimpsed her during the previous ten minutes, I am not +sure; but for the girl (whose eyes had been on Bell +from first to last), I was certain that the big Malay had +not impinged upon her vision before. Recognition of his +racial characteristics must have been instantaneous. +They were written for even an ethnic novice to read in +the giant's straight black hair, high cheek bones, wide +mouth, with its betel nut-stained teeth, and the light +golden yellow skin clothing the monstrously muscled +limbs. The peculiar twist of the loosely-looped <i>sarong</i> +and a wisp of rolled leaf behind an ear would have +located him even more definitely; but to Rona the fact +that there was an indubitable Malay staring into her +eyes from the nearest rail of the receding schooner, made +the incidental of his being a Moluccan—a Spice Island +man—of little moment. She was used to handling big +golden-yellow men.... They had proved a deal more +manageable than a certain white man she could mention.</p> + +<p class="indent">I heard, without understanding, the swift run of her +tripplingly-tongued Malay, and only the sibilant hiss of +"<i>Lekas! Lekas!</i>" at the end told me that what she had +ordered done was to be done "quickly! quickly!" Her +next order—to me—was no less insistent. "Paddl' +catch'n schoona, Whit-nee! Paddl' lak hell!"</p> + +<p class="indent">The girl's imperious mood brooked no delay. My +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page84" id="page84"></a>[pg 84]</span> +work was cut out clear for me, and, everything considered, +I am not at all sure that the yellow man—on the +score of zeal, at least—outdid the white man in carrying +out the orders he had received. Slipping back to the +stern to even up the down-by-the-head trim Rona's presence +in the bow gave the cranky dugout, I plied the +stubby paddle with all the strength and skill at my command. +The crazy craft rode higher now with Allen out +of it, but even so the speed with which I drove it threw +a wave inches above the hole in the crumbling bow. +The up-curling water poured through in a steady stream. +My race, I saw, was against that rising flood in the +bottom of the canoe quite as much as against the +schooner.</p> + +<p class="indent">There were only eight or ten yards to make up on the +still slowly moving <i>Cora</i>, and, barring swamping or a +collision with a shark or a floating nigger, I felt that I +could do it easily. But what to do when we had caught +her up? Ah, there was where the yellow man was to +come in. Ranga was just as busily carrying out his +orders as was I. "Clear away the nigger wire and stand +by to pick me up," had plainly been the drift of that +swift stream of Malay Rona had directed at him. Superbly +disdainful of the sharp barbs that were slashing +his bare palms to ribbons, he forced the whole savage +entanglement down to the deck with no more apparent +effort than a child would have used in collapsing +a string-strung "cat's-cradle." Rove through steel +stanchions set at close intervals along the rail, the wire +could not be torn entirely clear. So the direct and +simple-minded Ranga did the next best thing—gave a +mighty heave and brought three or four of the nearest +stanchions down to the deck in the tangle of wire they +had supported.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" id="page85"></a>[pg 85]</span> +An order from Bell at this juncture would probably +have stopped this wholesale destruction of his protective +entanglement; or perhaps I should say <i>possibly</i> rather +than probably. One cannot be sure just how strong a +force Rona had lashed into action. It has since occurred +to me that the man must have been gripped +with something very closely akin to the madness of <i>amok</i> +to handle that wire with his naked hands as he did. +It may be that the only one from whom he would have +brooked interference was the one who had fired that +savage train of energy—Rona. These points were not +to be put to the test, however. From first to last Bell—although, +from the wrecking of the wire almost under +his very eyes, he must have known what was going on—never +looked back.</p> + +<p class="indent">What with the settling of the half-swamped canoe and +the accelerating speed of the schooner, it was touch-and-go +at the end. I had gained by feet at first; then by +inches; and finally, with but a couple of yards more +needed to bring the bow up even with the schooner's +counter, I realized that I was no better than holding +my own. It was the last ounce of reserve in my aching +frame that I called upon for that final spurt. Rona +must have sensed that I was going my limit, for she said +no word ... only crouched, tense as a waiting wild-cat, +for the moment of her spring.</p> + +<p class="indent">For the first few seconds the gap closed quickly as the +canoe gathered increased headway from the impulse of +my wildly driven paddle; then more slowly and more +slowly, until, again, I was no better than holding even. +Another foot, and the jump would be safe. Bending low +to make the most of my expiring strength, my eyes wandered +from the goal for an instant. It was a shuddering +gasp of consternation from the bow that brought them +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" id="page86"></a>[pg 86]</span> +back again. The swooning mainsail, filled by the freshening +puffs, was beginning to make its pull felt in earnest. +The gap had widened. Instead of gaining a foot +I had lost two. That dished me completely. "No good, +Rona—I'm—all in," I groaned, and slid limply down +into the bottom of the canoe, where the water now lapped +level with the thwarts.</p> + +<p class="indent">Half fainting though I was, the picture of that super-simian +spring of Rona's is indelibly etched upon my +memory. Save for that one quick gasp, she made no +sound. The jump was an impossible one ... sheerly +impossible. And yet— Only a swift gathering of muscles—very +like the final quivering hunch of an ape that +leaps from tree to tree—heralded action. Then, with a +back-kick that forced the already half-submerged bow +right under, she flashed up to her full height and +launched her body into the air.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was a good jump,—a wonderful one, indeed, considering +the unstable take-off—but of course she missed +the rail—and by feet. That didn't surprise me.... I +had seen it was inevitable. But what I had <i>not</i> reckoned +upon was the astonishing length of Ranga's mighty left +arm. Standing by with a bight of the mainsheet gripped +in his right hand to keep from overbalancing, he had +sprung to the top of the rail as Rona jumped, leaning +out at all of an angle of forty-five degrees, probably +more. It was into the solidly pliant muscles of his great +corded left wrist, extended to the full reach of the arm, +that Rona clawed with the last half inch of her out-stretched +fingers—clawed and <i>held</i>. I say <i>clawed into</i>, +not clutched or seized. The girl's hold on Ranga's wrist +was not that of an acrobat grabbing over the bar for +which he has jumped (her leap was short by an inch +at least of giving her a chance to do that), but rather +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" id="page87"></a>[pg 87]</span> +that of a flung cat clawing into the limb or the trunk of +a tree. With less strength of fingers or length of nails +her hands would merely have brushed the outstretched +arm and missed a hold.</p> + +<p class="indent">Under the impact of that flying hundred and twenty +pounds (in spite of her slenderness, Rona must have +weighed quite that) of bone and muscle, striking, as it +did, just where the greatest leverage would be exerted, +Ranga was all but swung round and thrown from his +footing. The hastily-seized mainsheet was hardly a scientifically-run +guy for the leaning tower of his stressed +frame, nor did the wreck of the barbed wire entanglement +writhing over the rail offer the solidest of foundations. +Back and forth he swayed, like the half unstepped +mast of a grounded sloop; then steadied, quiveringly, up +to his original tense slant.</p> + +<p class="indent">The acrobatic miracle wrought by Ranga in swinging +Rona's precariously hanging form inboard was the most +perfect feat of strength and balance I ever saw, or ever +expect to see. It looked as sheerly impossible as the +jump had looked—and was accomplished scarcely less +quickly. The drawing up of the extended left arm +(what a marvellous rippling and bunching of golden muscles +that was!) brought the girl's pendant form close in +against the corrugated bulge of the giant's chest, reducing +the terrific leverage by a good half. A similar +doubling up of the right, with a sudden tug on the +mainsheet at the end of it, did the rest. For an instant +the great rangy rack of corded muscles balanced erect in +the midst of the wire-tangle festooned over the rail; then +jumped lightly down beyond and deposited its burden on +the deck.</p> + +<p class="indent">Hardly ten seconds could have elapsed from the instant +of Rona's jump to the one in which Ranga plumped +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" id="page88"></a>[pg 88]</span> +her down beside Bell at the wheel. The gap between +the canoe and the schooner had widened to hardly twenty +yards. I could see both the Malay and the girl quite +distinctly as, with the latter still looped in the crook +of his fingernail-torn left arm, he poised for a moment +on the rail. Neither appeared to have turned a hair. +Neither seemed in the least flustered ... might have +been in the habit of doing that sort of thing every day +for all the excitement they showed about it.</p> + +<p class="indent">The first thing Ranga did, as the dropped mainsheet +gave him a free hand, was to reach to the knot of his +<i>sarong</i> and satisfy himself that the little bamboo flute +tucked in there had ridden out the storm. And Rona—her +first move was to gather up and stow an amber-streaming +corner of the peacock shawl, which was +threatening to catch in an uprearing strand of the nigger +wire. Those two funny little incidentals complete my +recollections of that breathless quarter-minute. Whether +Rona, or Bell, or anyone else on the schooner waved +good-bye in my direction I do not recall. Ranga was +taking in the slack of the mainsheet when I looked again, +and Bell, peering up at the flapping headsails, was +grinding away at the wheel. Two or three shots rang +out following a commotion forward—probably fired to +check a fresh up-surge of the blacks from below.</p> + +<p class="indent">As Bell brought her round in a wide circle, the <i>Cora's</i> +sails were flattened in and she began to beat up toward +the entrance of the passage in a series of short tacks. +As she headed in past the quay, I heard a burst of cheers +roll up from a knot of humanity blurring the beach in +front of Jackson's. It was just a big, full-throated general +whoop, that first one, but it was quickly followed by +a number of other volleys of "huroars" that seemed to +carry suggestions of control and leadership. The last of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" id="page89"></a>[pg 89]</span> +these was a hearty "three-times-three," topped off with +a "tiger." "Cheering the parting heroes by name," I +muttered to myself, and wondered who that last rousing +"tiger" was meant to speed. I was still speculating +when the sharp whish of a heeling dorsal, as a sheering +shark avoided the submerged outrigger by a hair, +awakened me to a rude realization of the fact that the +swift tropic night had all but fallen and that I was +drifting out with the tide in a holed and barely floating +dugout.</p> + +<p class="indent">Of all the ebbings of the tide of courage that my sorrily +spent life had known, and had still to know, those +next few minutes—with the <i>Cora</i> dissolving into the +swimming dusk as she beat out through the passage, the +weirdly green wakes of the sharks lacing the oily-black +water with welts of phosphorescence as they assembled +for their ghastly banquet, and my swamped canoe teetering +in balance between positive and negative buoyancy—registered +low-water mark. I have never heard +of a despairing absinthe slave trying to break his bonds +at the end of the day. It is invariably at the end of +the night that he makes his break for liberty—at the +beginning of the day he has not the courage to face. +But it was the shame of the yellow in me, rather than +the green, that held empire now. Rona had brooked no +refusal of her demand to be taken on the <i>Cora</i>. Why +had I? She had been ready to swim for it. Why should +not I? Surely the sea, better than anything else, would +wash that yellow stain from my honour and leave it +white at the last. I didn't even have to screw my nerve +up to the point of jumping over. Listing heavily to +starboard as the half-capsized dugout was, one little inch +edged to the right, and not even the leverage of the outrigger +could keep it from overturning. Just the inclination +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" id="page90"></a>[pg 90]</span> +of my shoulders would do the trick.... I would +not even have to take the initiative to the extent of +edging along. Surely—</p> + +<p class="indent">With a quick gasp, I slid sharply to one side—but it +was to the left—the outrigger side. The great starshaped +welter of green luminescence, where a half-dozen +wallowing man-eaters nuzzled into a bobbing witch-fire-streaked +shape of unreflecting opacity, proved too much +for my last unbroken filament of nerve—all that I +needed to make my honour white. I had always dreaded +sharks, and it was my horror of them now that checked +the worthiest impulse that had stirred me that day. The +momentarily eclipsed image of the cooling green bottle +took shape again before my eyes, and, after that, there +was nothing to do but make the best fight I could to +reach it.</p> + +<p class="indent">Proceeding with infinite caution to avoid the upset +which I now feared above everything in the world, I +crawled forward along the outrigger side and stopped +the hole in the bow with my folded drill jacket, as a +necessary preliminary to beginning to bail out with my +waterproof sun-helmet. But before I turned to on what +could have hardly proved other than a hopeless task, +the sound of oars and voices reached my ears, and presently +the bow of a hard-pulled whaleboat came pushing +up out of the darkness. It was old Jackson whose +strong arm reached out and dragged me in over the +gunwale. When they got back their breaths lost in +cheering the departing schooner, he explained, after depositing +my limp form in the stern sheets, Doc Wyndham +bawled over to them from "Quarantine" that some cove +had been left behind in a foundered canoe. Jackson +himself reckoned that the Doc was beginning to go off +his nut and see things; but as several of the others +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page91" id="page91"></a>[pg 91]</span> +seemed to have hazy recollections of something of the +same kind, it was thought best to put off and investigate.</p> + +<p class="indent">"'Ow'd you 'appen to miss c'nections?" Jackson +asked sympathetically. "I spotted you paddlin' the +canoe off, an' we was so sure the Skipper 'ad signed you +on that we give a speshul w'oop in your 'onour. 'W'at's +the matter wiv W'itney?' I bellered ('member the night +you learned us that one?—time the looted fizz from the +<i>Levuka</i> was on tap); an' the boys cum back wiv: ''E's +all right!—you bet!—Ev'ry time!'"</p> + +<p class="indent">"That wasn't the big 'three-times-three' at the end, +was it, Jack?" I asked, my face burning with shame at +the thought.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Well, no; 'ardly that un," was the half-apologetic +reply. "That ripsnorter was in 'onour uv 'Slant' Allen. +Long time pal uv all uv us, 'e is. Slash-bangin' finisher, +li'l ol' 'Slant.'... Trust 'im allus to be on 'and +w'en they're liftin' 'ell's 'atches."</p> + +<p class="indent">I knew then that I wasn't going to be tumbling over +myself to tell "Slant's" friends on the beach that his +volunteering to go with the <i>Cora</i> had been just a shade +less voluntary than they reckoned. <i>He</i> had not pulled +up dead at his first hurdle as I had, anyhow. No, until +I knew more of what had transpired earlier in the day, +I was not going to give the man away; and not to his +old friends in any case. I would do at least that much +homage to his nerve.</p> + +<p class="indent">Seeing how dead beat I was, Jackson waved back the +crowd at the quay and headed me straight for home. +He knew what I needed, and I was as grateful for the +bluff old outlaw's unspoken sympathy as I was for the +help of his sustaining arm. With rare delicacy, he +avoided being a witness to my assault on the green bottle +by leaving me at the door. Like all the rest of those +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page92" id="page92"></a>[pg 92]</span> +rough, red-blooded roysterers of Kai, Jackson felt that +habitual absinthe drinking was degenerate, almost immoral.... +All right for a "Froggy," of course, but +not for a proper white man.... A thing that a real +self-respecting beach-comber would never allow himself +to be guilty of. The fact (which could not be concealed +for long) that I was known to be addicted to the habit +had taken even more living down than my painting, +especially when they learned I was straight Yankee and +not a "<i>We-we</i>."</p> + +<p class="indent">I drank hungrily at first—gulping glass after glass +of the cool green liquid,—but stopped just as soon as I +found my nerves were steadied and before the first stage +of "elevation" was entered upon. (A seasoned drinker +takes some time to reach the latter.) Unspeakably tired +physically, I dropped off to sleep almost as soon as the +absinthe relaxed the tension on my nerves. My rest was +dreamless and untroubled—or comparatively so.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" id="page93"></a>[pg 93]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII<br /> +<small>I LEAVE THE ISLAND</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Rolling</span> out of bed at the end of twelve straight +hours of sleep, I found the Trades blowing fresh +and strong again, and the air—after the soddenness +of the past week—almost bracing. A plunge +from the reef and a piping hot breakfast of fried clams +and duck eggs—my first solid food in over thirty-six +hours—bucked me up astonishingly. For almost the first +time since I came to the island, I was out before ten +o'clock—and well in hand, too. I had to be.... +There was much that it was up to me to learn—and perhaps +to act upon.</p> + +<p class="indent">That which I most desired to get some line upon was +what Allen had been driving at in drugging Bell, or +even, possibly, trying to poison him. What was <i>kor-klee</i>? +(of which Rona appeared to be so terrified), and +how did it act? were questions which I wanted especially +to find the answers to. Was it a drug with a delayed +action, following a preliminary stupefaction of comparative +mildness? If so—no, there was nothing that could +be done for Bell in that case; but, as a friend of his, I +might do what I could to square the account later on. +There was no lack of confidence <i>that</i> morning. The reaction +(which had eluded me completely the day before) +was strong upon me, and I felt quite equal to any situation +that might arise. I still blushed with shame at the +thought of the contemptible figure I had cut from dawn +to darkness of the day previous, but I was ready to make +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" id="page94"></a>[pg 94]</span> +such atonement as was humanly possible. It was merely +one of my "high" moods coming three or four hours +ahead of time. I could have slung my colours with +telling effect that morning, if there had been a chance +for me to get at canvas.</p> + +<p class="indent">From one and another at Jackson's I gathered a fairly +connected account of what had happened during the +hours I was away on the leeward side of the island. +The salient incidents of this I have already set down. +None of them knew much of anything about <i>kor-klee</i>, +but all agreed that Doc Wyndham would be sure to be +an authority upon it. I dropped the subject for the +moment, as I did not care to be pressed for an explanation +of why I sought the information. The next day I +slipped quietly over and had a long-distance interview +with the learned Wyndham.</p> + +<p class="indent">The Doc had buried the <i>Cora's</i> recruiting agent the +night the schooner sailed, doing everything except the +digging of the grave with his own hands. He had then +returned home and shut himself in for his ten days of +solitary quarantine. Solitary is hardly the word, though. +Wyndham was far from being alone. Unlike Bell, he was +a "spree drinker" rather than a speedy tippler. It was +his habit (as he put it himself) to accumulate aridity during +five or six months of the most rigorous teetotalism, +and then blow up the dam and make the desert blossom +like the rose under the stimulus of a generous flood. +The breaking up of the Monsoon and the culmination of +Doc Wyndham's biennial sprees were bracketed together +in the Islands' list of seasonal disturbances.</p> + +<p class="indent">The desert was hardly due for its wetting at this +time, but Wyndham, shaken by his unsuccessful fight to +save the Agent's life, was loath to face the ordeal of the +confinement ahead of him without company. So (as he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" id="page95"></a>[pg 95]</span> +explained after he had halted me a dozen paces from +his door with a revolver flourished from the window) +he called in the only dead sure plague-immune he knew—his +old friend John Barleycorn—and raised the floodgates. +The last thing he had impressed upon his brain +before putting Barleycorn in charge was that he must +rigidly confine his desert reclamation project to his +own wastes. On no account was he to leave his own +house, and, on no account, was anyone to be allowed to +enter it. "Strict quarantine's the word," he had repeated +to himself many times before he started drinking, +and "Strict quarantine's the word" was the greeting—and +the warning—I heard when I stepped into the +shadow of the big breadfruit tree in front of his +door.</p> + +<p class="indent">Solemn as an owl, Wyndham had been catching purple +shrimps (or something of the kind) with a butterfly net +and putting them under his microscope for examination. +The big brass instrument was set upon a table pulled up +to the window, while the shrimps were being harvested +from the bosky depths of a patch of elephant-eared taro +just outside. It was his favourite hunting and fishing +preserve, that taro patch, the Doc had confided to me +once, and the rarity and variety of the specimens captured +there were rather remarkable. I don't remember +many of them, but a sea-cow and a sabre-tooth tiger were +among the commonest he had made slides of. Everything +went under the microscope, of course. His captures +were small in size during the first few days, starting +with mere animalculae, but bulked steadily bigger as the +desert blossomed to a jungle. It required a microscope +with a great latitude of adjustment to handle such a wide +range of subjects—but his was a most excellent instrument +... most excellent. Thus the Doc.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" id="page96"></a>[pg 96]</span> +Pretending to ignore my approach completely, Wyndham +continued squinting through the eye-piece of his +microscope until I crunched over the dead-line he had +established. Then he flourished the revolver, barked out +his quarantine formula, and asked what I wanted. +"When I replied that I had come to inquire respecting +the effects of a drug called <i>kor-klee</i>, his manner changed +instantly. By some queer psychological process quite +beyond me to fathom, he started at once speaking French, +or rather what he thought was French. It was a weird +jargon he had picked up in the Marquesas, where he had +spent a year in research work when he first came to the +Islands, and where (it was said) only his passion for +collecting pearls—other people's—had prevented his +winning to international fame for his all-but-successful +efforts to isolate the bacteria responsible for the dread +<i>fe-fe</i> or <i>elephantiasis</i>.</p> + +<p class="indent">"<i>Kor-klee—mais oui, mon ami. Je comprend him +fella kor-klee too much. Parfaitement. C'est la liqueur +essential de la ficus—ficus—nom d'un chien—ficus what-dyucalum. +C'est la aphrodisique le plus exquite, le plus +fort, en tout le monde. Prenez vous comme ca—whouf!</i>"—and +he made a great pretence of inhaling the contents +of his shrimp net to show how the drug was administered +for that particular purpose.</p> + +<p class="indent">"<i>Encore—quand—quand eat'm like kai-kai!</i>" he +floundered on learnedly; "<i>quand eat'm kor-klee il fait—mak'm +mort—dead—tres vite</i>."</p> + +<p class="indent">Here he interrupted himself to ask for which purpose +it was I intended to use the stuff.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Neither," I denied stoutly. "I was merely asking +out of curiosity."</p> + +<p class="indent">"<i>Parle that talkee a la marines</i>," he scoffed. "<i>Le +meme chose talkee parle</i> 'Slant' Allen. <i>Je voudrais</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" id="page97"></a>[pg 97]</span> +<i>connoce ou—ou in hell you fella catch'm kor-klee.</i> I'd +like to get my fist on some of the blooming elixir myself," +he trailed off into English.</p> + +<p class="indent">Save for that one lapse, Wyndham, in spite of my +reiterated appeals that he speak straight English, rattled +on in his impossible Franco-<i>bêche-de-mer</i> from first to +last. That which I have tried to render does it scant +justice. Most of it was quite unintelligible. At the end +of a rather trying half-hour (though it would have been +amusing enough had I been less anxious for information +that might throw light on the mystery I had set myself to +unravel), about all that I had been able to gather was +that <i>kor-klee</i> was the name given in the Dutch Indies +to several preparations made from the latex of the wild +fig of New Guinea. A crude infusion of it was employed +by the Papuans in stupefying fish in their rivers. More +elaborated extracts were distilled for their narcotic and +other properties. One of these, vapourized and inhaled, +was much prized by the Rajahs of Malaysia as a quickener +of the languid pulse, a restorer of youth. Another—the +most powerful extract of all—was a deadly poison—very +neat and incisive in its action.</p> + +<p class="indent">I also understood Wyndham to say that the use of the +drug in any form acted as a great exciter of the cravings +for alcohol and narcotics on the part of those addicted +to these habits. "If that's the case," I said to myself +as I turned home, "God pity poor old Bell's teetotal +resolutions! It would have been hard enough without +anything further in the way of a 'thust aggravata.' I'm +afraid he'll be having to exchange rôles with 'Slant' +after all—to let the latter be the 'soba Mate of a drunken +Skippa.'" Now that I had a chance to think about it, +I didn't have any great faith in Bell's ability to refrain +from drink for any length of time—certainly for not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" id="page98"></a>[pg 98]</span> +more than a day or two at the outside. He'd probably +see the thing through, I admitted, but not as a "soba +Skippa."</p> + +<p class="indent">Turning over all I had picked up at the end of a +couple of days, I felt that I could come pretty near to +reconstructing in my mind those scenes of the drama of +which there had been no witnesses save the actors themselves. +Allen's infatuation for the girl had undoubtedly +got the better of him the instant the turn of events suggested +a plan which promised to give him undisputed +possession of her. To this end he had plotted to get Bell +off on a voyage from which there was no more than a +negligible chance of his ever returning, while he himself +remained behind to enjoy the spoils.</p> + +<p class="indent">Considering that Allen's plan was evolved upon little +more than a moment's notice, there could be no question +that it was laid with consummate cleverness and carried +out without a hitch—save, of course, for that final fatal +slip-up which undid all the rest. To make sure of Bell +and disarm his suspicions, Allen had assured the +American that he himself would also go on the <i>Cora</i>. +That he had tried to poison Bell, I had my doubts. I +had not learned enough of how the drug acted to make +my speculations on that point of much use. At any +rate, with Bell unconscious on the schooner, it had clearly +been the Australian's plan to return to the beach and +remain there until she sailed, at the turn of the tide. +That the <i>Cora</i> should get under way at that time had +already been arranged between the unsuspecting Ranga +and himself. The pretence that he had missed the +schooner while engaged in getting his own and Bell's +kits together would save his face with his friends on the +beach. This latter consideration, it appears, was something +the rascal never lost sight of. In the improbable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" id="page99"></a>[pg 99]</span> +event that Bell ever returned—but that bridge need not +be crossed until it was in sight.</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen's cropper at the last jump was directly due to +his cool assumption (natural enough, considering his +success with South Sea ladies generally) that the girl, +once Bell was out of the way, would fall into his lap +like a ripe mango. That, and his long-curbed passion for +her, led him to rush in search of Rona the moment he +landed from his first visit to the schooner, and, missing +her then, to return before the <i>Cora</i> had got her anchor +up. The consequences of his finding her in on this latter +occasion I had seen something of myself. How that slip +of a girl got the drop on the most notorious bad man in +the Islands I could only conjecture. Probably, with +Allen, it was the old story—prudence going out of one +door as passion entered at the other. I didn't reckon +that Rona had ever read the story of Delilah; yet I felt +pretty confident that the point of that little Joloano <i>kris</i> +had found its way to the pulse of "Slant's" jugular +some time after the girl's arm had gone round his neck +in what he thought—for a second or two at least—was a +warm embrace. Rona's uncanny faculty for getting +away with everything she went after—from having her +peacock shawl dry-cleaned to boarding a schooner which +was all of "two jumps" beyond her reach—had greatly +impressed me. And well it might have....</p> + +<p class="indent">Even allowing that Allen had not tried to poison Bell +outright, the fact remained that he had played the worst +kind of a low-down trick on the American in treacherously +attempting to railroad the latter out of the way +and deprive the girl of his protection. That much was +plain, and it was dead against the shifty Australian. In +"Slant's" favour was the game manner in which he had +stood the gaff at the last, when Bell left the way wide +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" id="page100"></a>[pg 100]</span> +open for him to return ashore without even going over +the side of the plague-infested schooner. He had not +hesitated an instant in staking his life in what he had +very fairly characterized as the short end of a hundred-to-one +shot. There must be redeeming qualities in a man +who could do that, no matter how shot through with infamy +his past record had been. It occurred to me as just +possible that Bell's magnanimity had struck a responsive +chord in Allen's sense of sportsmanship—that the latter +was going to play whatever remained of that grim game +on the square. If the <i>Cora</i> was lost, or if Allen and Bell +and the girl all died of the plague (one or both of which +contingencies seemed practically inevitable), the whole +slate would be wiped clean anyhow. If not—if the <i>Cora</i> +won through with any of those three surviving—some +hint of what had transpired on the voyage would certainly +be obtainable at Townsville, or whatever port +the schooner succeeded in making. In any event, I told +myself, it was up to me to get on to Australia at the +earliest possible moment.</p> + +<p class="indent">The fact that my Exhibition would be sure to have +opened in Sydney by the time I reached Australia, +really had nothing to do with my decision. In spite of +the bluff I had tried to put over on Bell, I had had no +intention of leaving Kai for a number of months to come. +Nor, even after I began getting ready to go, did I +attempt to ignore the fact that there might be duties +for me to carry out in Townsville, the performance of +which would be more likely than not to interfere seriously +with my freedom of action for a good deal longer than +the art world of Sydney would be inclined to pay homage +to my marines.</p> + +<p class="indent">No, my coming show had nothing to do with my resolve +to hurry south, although, naturally, I fully intended to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" id="page101"></a>[pg 101]</span> +take it in if things shaped so as to make it possible. +Since my daubs had been making good with the connoisseurs +of Kai—men who knew at first hand the things +I was trying to paint,—I had little fear that the more +sophisticated critics of civilization would not fall for +them. I hadn't any worry on that score. I knew I +had been doing good work. But—well, an artist who +isn't interested in the way his work will react on his +fellow-beings is lacking in a very important stimulus +to success.</p> + +<p class="indent">Kai manifested its usual sympathetic interest in my +preparations for departure, but, with characteristic delicacy, +asked no questions. Well off the steamer routes, +and with only the most infrequent comings and goings +of pearling and trading craft, the problem of reaching +Australia with any dispatch seemed, at first, a hopeless +one. For a while it looked like the best I could do would +be to accept "Slim" Patton's kindly offer to run me +over in his pearling sloop to Thursday Island, where I +could count on getting a south-bound China-Australia +liner inside of a fortnight. As Patton was known to be +in bad for several little things at Thursday Island, his +offer did more credit to his heart than to his head, and I +was a good deal relieved when Jackson figured out a +plan that promised to make it possible for me to reach +my goal by another route. After thumbing a greasy +sheet of Burns, Phillip sailings for the best part of an +afternoon, the old outlaw suddenly announced he had +found reason to believe that, with luck, a cutter getting +away from Kai that night could intercept the Solomon-Australia +packet at Samarai, off the easternmost tip of +New Guinea. To be sure that the thing was done +properly, he would take one of his own cutters and sail +her himself. As my impedimenta consisted of little beyond +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" id="page102"></a>[pg 102]</span> +a few changes of drills and ducks, my painting kit, +and a case of absinthe, and as Jackson used neither paint +nor absinthe and wore a flowered <i>sulu</i> in place of ducks +and drills, we had little difficulty in getting away on +schedule.</p> + +<p class="indent">Jackson's carefully tabulated calculations—you can do +that kind of thing in those latitudes when the southeast +Trades are blowing steady and you know your boat—were +only wrong by an hour. That is to say, we would +have missed the <i>Utupua</i> by something like that had we +pushed right in to Samarai. Old "Jack," however, sighting +a bituminous smear trailing off above the tufted +tops of the coco palms that line the inner passage, +promptly shook out all his reefs, hauled up four or five +points, and headed away on a course calculated to converge +with that of the outgoing steamer a couple of +miles to seaward. It was only after an abrupt greening +of the tourmaline depths of the passage we had been +threading suggested a sudden shoaling that it occurred +to him to unroll and study his chart.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Five 'undred fathom—three 'undred fifty fathom," +he read laboriously as his tarry forefinger cruised along +the tiny rows of dots and figures indicating soundings. +"Three 'undred fathom—two 'undred fifty fathom—<i>one</i> +bloody fathom! By Gawd, W'itney, we're 'igh an' +dry already! This bally chart says they's only one +fathom uv water on this kerblasted coral patch, an' the +cutter draws two feet mor'n that."</p> + +<p class="indent">But he never luffed her, never altered her course a +fraction of a point. "More she 'eels the less she draws," +he muttered philosophically, sitting down on the weather +rail of the cockpit and starting to whittle at the end of a +stick of tobacco with his clasp-knife. "Save a lot of +wig-waggin' if we do pile up," he continued presently, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" id="page103"></a>[pg 103]</span> +rolling the shaved-off blackjack between his palms. "Ol' +'Choppy' Tancred never giv' the go-by to even a nigger +dugout he could len' a han' to." Then he lighted his +pipe, whoofed two or three whirling jets of blue smoke +to leeward as he brought it to a proper draw, and settled +comfortably back in puffing contentment. Ten minutes +later he unrolled the chart again, produced a greasy stub +of pencil from the band of his <i>koui</i>-leaf hat, and wrote +with great care the letters "P.D." across the dotted expanse +where curving lines of figure "1s," like the +graphic representation of telegraph lines on a bird's-eye +map, indicated six feet of water where the eight-feet-draught +cutter had just crossed without a bump.</p> + +<p class="indent">"As I figger it," Jackson observed drily, rolling up +the chart and tossing it down the companionway as a +thing whose usefulness was ended,—"as I figger it, a +bloke's only manifestin' proper conserv'tism w'en 'e +marks as 'Position Doubtful' a reef that ain't tangibl' +enuf to stop 'im w'en 'e 'its it." Then, presently, between +puffs, as he stretched himself and sidled along +to take the wheel as the cutter began to close the slowing +steamer: "Wonder 'oo the bally cove'll be 'oo bumps a +mis-charted reef w'en 'e thinks 'e's got four 'undred +fathom uv brine 'tween his keel an' the bottom uv the +Pacific." The notorious inaccuracy of the South Sea +charts is a continual source of amusement or wrath—according +to whether a misplaced shoal or passage has +spelt comedy or tragedy to him—for the man who sails +their reef-beset waters.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was Captain Tancred himself who came tumbling +down from the <i>Utupua's</i> bridge to greet me as I clambered +up the Jacob's ladder thrown over from the forecastle +head. Hearing of him often before, this was the +first time I ever set eyes on one of the best-loved characters +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page104" id="page104"></a>[pg 104]</span> +in the South Pacific. He was a red-faced, blue-eyed, +sandy-haired Scot, with a heart as big as his fist, +and as soft as his voice was rough. Square himself as +his own broad shoulders, and strictly law-abiding personally, +he was credited with an amiable weakness for +befriending every man who had run afoul of the statutes. +I had heard them yarn by the hour at Kai of the way +he had smuggled this one out of Australia, and that one +into New Guinea; of how he had all but bumped South +Head while standing-off-and-on in a "Southerly Buster" +one night, on the off chance of picking up a jail-breaker, +whose only claim upon Tancred had been that the latter +had once before performed a similar service for the +reprobate when he had forced his way out of the jug in +Suva. Several of the push at Jackson's claimed actually +to owe their lives to the bluff old Scot; many of them +their liberty. "Choppy" Tancred—so called from his +sun-washed red-brown mutton-chop side whiskers—was +the nearest thing to a patron saint Kai ever had—that +is, until the Rev. Horatio Loveworth hove up on their +skyline some years later and converted the lot of them +(just about) with the knuckles of his brawny fists.</p> + +<p class="indent">The last thing Jackson had said, as he steadied the ladder +for me to swarm up the <i>Utupua's</i> side, was to the +effect that I ought to consider myself dead lucky to be +stacking up with "Choppy" Tancred; "or, leastways," +he qualified, "you would be if you was in any kind uv +a mess 'e could fish you out uv."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Don't give up hope, Jack," I chaffed back, clawing +round a projecting ventilator; "I may land in a mess +yet."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Then don't be forgettin' ther'll allus be a refooge +for the errin' on the banks an' brays uv Kai Lagoon," +he sang back, taking in the mainsheet as the cutter came +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105"></a>[pg 105]</span> +up to the wind; "an' that 'Choppy' Tancred'll be the +cove to give you a first leg-up on the way back there."</p> + +<p class="indent">Except for his very evident disappointment over the +fact that I disclaimed any need of his help in getting +ashore in Australia, Captain Tancred seemed not in the +least put out over being stopped and boarded so high-handedly. +He had carried many queer birds in his time, +so that a man eccentric enough to take a case of drinkables +with him on the <i>return</i> trip from the Islands didn't +worry him as much as it might have some others. He +was also kindly charitable about my "exclusiveness" of +evenings (when all normal beings expand and grow sociable +at sea), and even good-naturedly tolerant of my +weakness for having breakfast in my cabin. I made it +up to him to the best of my ability in my "quickened" +hours of the afternoon, and we became good +friends.... Really good friends. I felt that I could +count upon him in a pinch.</p> + +<p class="indent">The grounding of the company's Port Moresby +steamer somewhere along the Barrier Reef was responsible +for the fact that the <i>Utupua</i>, this voyage, had been +ordered to pick up freight at both Cooktown and Cairns, +instead of proceeding direct to Townsville on her regular +schedule. This set her back two days, and brought us +into the offing at Townsville twenty-four hours after—instead +of twenty-four hours before—a sun-blistered, foul-smelling +labour-recruiting schooner, with a dead Captain +and a score or more of dying niggers, was brought +to anchor off the Quarantine Station by the Mate, who, +immediately the hook was let go, collapsed on the deck +and went to sleep. The empty hulk of the <i>Cora Andrews</i>, +swinging lazily to the turning tide, was one of the first +things to catch my eye as the <i>Utupua</i> steamed in and +tied up to her buoy.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" id="page106"></a>[pg 106]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER IX<br /> +<small>A GRIM TALE OF THE SEA</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">I have</span> often tried to figure just what effect on the +succeeding train of events my earlier arrival in +Townsville might have had. I have never come to +any very definite conclusions in that connection. There +were two or three things that were pretty well bound to +happen, and if they hadn't come about one way, there is +little doubt that they would have done so in another. +Had I been there when the <i>Cora</i> arrived, it is probable +that I would have learned definitely at once (instead of +somewhat tardily) that Bell had <i>not</i> died of the plague. +Certainly, on learning that fact, my impulse would have +been to try to force Allen to an immediate showdown—to +insist on his proving that the dope he had put in the +American's whisky at Kai had not been the direct cause +of the latter's death. Such a showdown would have +been impossible to bring about at the time, however: for +one reason, because Allen had been put into quarantine +immediately, and, for another, because, completely +played out by thirty-six hours at the wheel without relief, +he had sunk into a sleep from which he had not rallied +for over two days. Similar considerations would have +prevented my seeing Rona. Besides being in quarantine +she was in a state of raving delirium, which would have +made it impossible for her to convey coherent information. +Even Ranga, unaffected in mind and body though +he was, I would hardly have been permitted to talk with +when he landed, any more than I was two days later. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" id="page107"></a>[pg 107]</span> +No, everything considered, I fail to see where my earlier +arrival would have made much difference in what happened. +It must have been slated anyhow, I think—just +bound to come off however the incidentals shaped.</p> + +<p class="indent">Still askance at what he rated as my temerity in making +an open landing in Townsville, Captain Tancred +had somewhat reluctantly granted my request for a boat +to take me ashore as soon as the quarantine officials were +through with the ship. I couldn't, of course, go off in +the quarantine launch, but one of the doctors lingered a +few minutes to tell me what he knew of the <i>Cora</i>. Although +her captain had died twenty-four hours before +the schooner anchored, his remains had not been buried +at sea. This, it appeared, had been largely due to the +protests of some sort of a Kanaka girl the Skipper had +had with him. According to the Bo'sun's statement +(fine upstanding fellow that looked like some kind of a +Java man), she had gone plumb off her chump. Tried +to knife the Mate first, and then plumped down by the +Skipper's remains and threatened to stick the first man +to touch it. The Mate, endeavouring to humour her, +had not insisted on the burial—a reprehensible weakness +on his part.... Common prudence demanded that +the dead on a plague ship should be scuppered as soon +as the breath was out of their bodies. That is, with a +white man; with a nigger it did no harm to anticipate +that event by an hour or so—as long as you were sure +the fellow was going to whiff out anyway.</p> + +<p class="indent">The funny part of it was, though (the Doctor went on), +that the Skipper had not died of the plague at all. They +had not, it was true, made any post-mortem in the rush of +things; but it was certain, nevertheless, that his body +had not displayed even the preliminary evidences of infection—no +swelling of the glands of the groin or under +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" id="page108"></a>[pg 108]</span> +the arms. Magnificent physical specimen the chap was, +but plainly a man who had punished an ocean of booze +in his day. And yet—confound it all!—there was no +evidence that the fellow had drunk himself to death, +either. Now if it had been the Mate—<i>he</i> was exuding +alcohol from every pore—absolutely reeking with it. Almost +made a man drunk to breathe the air down to leeward +of him. Seemed to have been on one glorious spree +all the way from—somewhere up Solomon-way, he +thought it was. Harried the niggers like a fiend, according +to the Bo'sun. Clubbed three or four of them +to death for not stepping lively enough to his orders. +Lucky thing the Skipper had scuppered all but one of +the guns the first day out. But not all the booze he had +soaked up had effected the nerve of the Mate. Kept his +head and his legs to the last, finishing up with a straight +twenty-four-hour trick at the wheel. Said none of the +crew knew the Barrier Reef as well as he did. Had one +nigger holding a parasol over him, another playing a +concertina, another waiting handy with a bottle of +whisky, and a fourth standing by to block any rushes +from the Kanaka girl with her knife. Funny thing it +never occurred to him to have her disarmed and tied up, +or shut up. Grabbed the bottle of whisky and started to +brain the Bo'sun with it every time the latter tried to +push in and relieve him at the wheel.</p> + +<p class="indent">A chap of terrible determination and iron nerves, that +Mate was, observed the Doctor. But no wonder.... +Think who he was! Allen! The Honourable Hartley +Allen! The great Allen! Son of old Sir Jim Allen! +Melbourne Cup winner! Best horseman in all Australia! +Crooked as they make 'em—but how he could +ride! Sent off to the Islands four or five years back for +raising some sort of hell. His old Ticket-of-Leave had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" id="page109"></a>[pg 109]</span> +given him away when they came to strip him for a bath. +No possible mistake about it. One of the doctors at the +Quarantine Station had set a broken collar-bone for +him once after he had fallen in a steeplechase at Coolgardie. +Found the marks of the old compound fracture +still humping up on the clavicle—the left one....</p> + +<p class="indent">It was not without difficulty that I brought the excited +young medico round to speaking of Bell again. The +astounding fact that he himself, with his own hands, had +actually helped to put the great and only Hartley Allen +to bed, was proving almost too much for him. It was +certainly not less than three separate times that he assured +me that it was his own silk pajamas that were encasing +the limbs of the resurrected hero. He switched +subjects reluctantly, rising to go to his waiting launch.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Nothing in the world the matter with the big fellow—not +even too much drink," he said as he began shuffling +his health sheets together. "He must have passed away +from the sheer mental strain of the stunt he had tackled. +Intense nervous strain—that was the one thing written +all over the man. Face was starting to bloat a bit from +the heat by the time I saw it first; but, even so, it still +showed the lines of the most terrible mental suffering. +Seemed to have gone out fighting hard to pull himself +together—shoulders hunched up, finger-nails clenched +deep into palms, lower lip bitten clean through."</p> + +<p class="indent">"May not those—those things you mention have been +caused by physical rather than mental agony?" I asked, +speaking very slowly to hide the agitation aroused by +this significant intelligence. "Isn't that about the way a +man would repress his feelings if he was racked with—with +stomach cramps—if he had eaten something that +disagreed with him?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Possibly so," admitted the Doctor, with the air of a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" id="page110"></a>[pg 110]</span> +man weighing an idea that had not occurred to him before; +"but somehow that wasn't the suggestion they +carried to me—nor to any of us. Fact is, though, we +didn't give the matter very much attention. That chap +was dead—finished,—while the other white man and the +girl—to say nothing of forty or fifty niggers—were alive. +Then, with the excitement of finding we had the great +Hartley Allen on our hands—and, on top of that, having +the girl run <i>amuck</i> and give us the slip complete,—there +was enough else to think about. The only—"</p> + +<p class="indent">"The girl gave you the slip?" I interrupted. "How +was that? You didn't mention it before."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Bolted and drowned herself in the creek," he replied; +"or at least there's every reason to believe she drowned +herself, though they haven't found her body yet. She +wasn't going to leave the Skipper, even when we started +to take his body away for burial.... And of course +we couldn't allow her to leave the Station until her +period of quarantine was over. Had to take her away +from the body by main force. She fought the whole lot +of us with tooth and nail and a wicked little curly-bladed +dagger. Stood us all off, too, and looked like +getting ready to use the knife on herself when the big +Malay (who chanced to be there, but had taken no part +in the shindy up to that moment) stepped in, caught her +wrist and took the nasty little toy away from her.</p> + +<p class="indent">"The big yellow man seemed to have rather a quieting +effect on the girl. Blind mad as she was, she didn't try +to stick him. It seemed to steady her a good deal when +he talked to her in her own lingo. She was panting like +a cat coming out of a fit when we left her, but was quite +over her raving—wasn't even sobbing aloud. She was +coming out of her hysteria—getting rational again. Her +eyes, though still wild and almost throwing off sparks of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" id="page111"></a>[pg 111]</span> +anger, were quite free of the crazy look. It looked like +our trouble with her was about over, but, to be on the +safe side, we locked her up in one of the 'mad' rooms. +That was the last anyone has seen of her alive—or any +other way, for that matter.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You wouldn't have believed the thing possible!" +he ejaculated feelingly, turning back from the door and +slapping the table resoundingly with his portfolio. +"That room was made to confine dangerous lunatics in, +and it had fulfilled its purpose, too—up to night before +last. To make it perfectly secure, it had been constructed +without windows—nothing but a two-by-two +hole up against the twelve-foot-high ceiling admitted +light and air. There were no beds or chairs to be broken +up when the occupant had tantrums.... Just sleeping +mats, a sheet, a blanket and a mosquito net. No +more. Even the wash basin was brought in and taken +out by the attendant.</p> + +<p class="indent">"In locking the girl in, no precautions were omitted +except that of strapping her in a strait-jacket, and we +had never resorted to that save in violent cases. The +window—or rather air-hole—was so high and so small +that it had never been considered worth while to put +bars on it. But as it was the only conceivable way she +could have got out (the attendant is absolutely trustworthy, +and the key was not in his hands more than a +minute or two anyway), we would have been forced to +conclude that the girl had reached it with wings—had +not we found the lower four or five feet of wall marked +with the prints of the toes and balls of the bare feet which +had apparently been violently projected against it. That +led us to get a ladder and light and examine about the +window more closely. For a foot or more below it the +wall was splashed with blood and slightly scratched, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" id="page112"></a>[pg 112]</span> +where lacerated fingers had clawed at the narrow +ledge.</p> + +<p class="indent">"It did not take us long to figure that, taking the +whole length of the room to get going in, the girl had +flung herself up the wall something in the way that a +terrier will run six or eight feet up the side of a house +for a ball or handkerchief fastened there. That's the +only way we could account for the toe-prints on the wall, +though it is quite possible that, after failing to pull off +the trick in that fashion—it's a stunt that looks dead +hopeless for anything but a monkey,—she managed it +with a straight spring, high enough to get her fingers +over the ledge. Even from there, not one woman in a +million could pull herself up. But we had already remarked +on the extreme wiriness of the girl (a regular +human ape she was for agility), and so found it a bit +easier to accept the evidence of our eyes. In some way or +another she had managed it.</p> + +<p class="indent">"The air-hole opened out under the eaves of the sheet-iron +roof," the Doctor went on, forgetting his waiting +launch in the interest of the story, and seating himself +again at the table. "It must have taken some jolly +snaky wriggling to crawl through the hole, out over the +eaves and on top of the roof; but she did it, else she +could never have jumped across the big banyan, where +we found some twigs broken at the point she hit, and +some wisps of silk floss. The other side of that banyan—a +hundred feet from the wall of the hospital—spreads +until it comes to about fifteen feet from the station wall. +The wall is ten feet high, has broken glass on the top of +it, with three or four strands of barbed wire above +that.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Swinging to the ground by a pendent air-root on the +side she had landed in, the girl crossed under the tree—the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" id="page113"></a>[pg 113]</span> +marks of her bare feet showing plainly in the soft +earth—and used a similar ladder with which to mount on +the other side. To be sure of clearing the barbed wire, +she had climbed to a firm perch fully twenty-five feet +from the ground, and made her final jump from there. +Luckily for her, the cane field on the other side of the +wall had been flooded but a day or two before—though +I don't doubt she would have jumped just the same +if it had been to a cobblestone pavement.</p> + +<p class="indent">"We found the deep prints of her feet, knees and +hands where she had sprawled on striking. Her tracks +down to the edge of a sprouting row of seed-cane, and +the marks where she had crawled up out of a deep irrigating +ditch to the road, were all we had to indicate the +direction she had taken. As she had seemed plumb daft +about the dead Skipper, we figured that she had probably +broken out with the idea of going to his grave, and perhaps +making an end of herself there. If that was it, she +failed. There were no signs whatever of her having been +near the fresh mound we had tucked the big fellow +away under. It was some distance away from the Station, +and, in the night, it isn't likely she would have met +anyone to ask the way of. The only grave she found +was her own, and not a very restful one at that, I'm +afraid.</p> + +<p class="indent">"We had noticed that she seemed to set great store by +a big yellow shawl she wore—rather a fine old piece of +Oriental work it looked, with a dragon or some other +kind of wild animal embroidered on it. Well, when we +found that lying on the bank of Ross Creek, just a bit +inland of the town, we felt so sure that it marked the +jumping-off place for her in more ways than one. For +that reason, what search has been pressed since has been +in the form of shooting alligators, and seeing if one of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" id="page114"></a>[pg 114]</span> +them appears to have enjoyed anything extra-special in +the way of tucker lately."</p> + +<p class="indent">An impatient toot from his launch carried the Doctor +to the door again, where he paused long enough to assure +me for the third or fourth time that it would be most +unlikely that permission would be granted me to see the +Mate or the Boatswain of the <i>Cora</i> until their spell of +quarantine was over. If I was really anxious about it, +he would gladly put in a word for me with the Chief. +I would have to show good reason for my request, of +course. Perhaps, if it chanced that I was able to shed +any light on how the schooner came to get into such a +mess—I cut him short by saying that I might call at +the Quarantine Station when I came ashore a little later. +What I knew about the sailing of the <i>Cora</i> from Kai +happened to be the one thing I didn't care to confide to +anyone—just yet. Asking the Mate to order my boat +to stand by for me a few minutes longer, I went to my +cabin to be alone while I turned the fresh developments +over in my mind.</p> + +<p class="indent">I had been prepared to await the coming of the <i>Cora</i> +indefinitely. In fact, what I expected above anything +else was that the final news would be a report that she +had been found piled up on any one of a thousand reefs +that spread their coral claws all the way from the Louisiades +to the Great Barrier. And in case she did get +through, I was quite prepared to learn that both of the +white men and the girl had succumbed to the plague. But +to be told that, after the schooner had avoided disaster, +and all three of them the plague, that the two upon +whom my interest and affection had centred were gone—dead,—was +just a bit staggering. It was now up to me +to determine upon a definite course of action, and, since +it was now out of the question attempting to follow my +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115"></a>[pg 115]</span> +first impulse of going to Allen at once and forcing a +showdown, I wanted time to think.</p> + +<p class="indent">What the Doctor had told me of the way Bell appeared +to have died had instantly reawakened my suspicions +of Allen. Had the <i>kor-klee</i>, working with a +recurrent effect, finally proved fatal? Or had Allen, +perhaps, administered a second and stronger dose? He +would have had a hundred opportunities to do that had +he desired to. Rona's attacks on the Mate, indicating +the deadliest hatred, seemed to prove that her first suspicions +of him had not weakened during the voyage—more +likely, indeed, had hardened to a certainty. The +belief I had been entertaining that Allen had made up +his mind to play the game out on the square was not very +deeply grounded.</p> + +<p class="indent">My sense of personal loss in the passing of Bell and +Rona was not a thing I cared to let myself dwell upon +for the moment. There was no question that the news +of Rona's death had shocked me even more than that of +Bell's. Not that there was anything more between us +than I have already told. I had never let myself think +of her in terms of physical possession, though the sheer +animal attraction of the girl was beyond anything I had +ever experienced in a woman. But her appeal to the +artistic side of me had been stronger even than that. +Just as the thrill I felt at the first sight of her bathing in +the pink-lipped bowl of the reef had made the very world +itself seem more wonderful and beautiful, so now the depression +that filled me on realizing that I was never +again to have sight of her made the world seem emptier +and drearier.</p> + +<p class="indent">Another thing: there was no denying that Bell, splendid +fellow that he was, had shot his bolt. A real come-back +with him was too much to expect. The most that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" id="page116"></a>[pg 116]</span> +could have been hoped for was that he would "finish in +style," and that I was assured he had done, no matter +in what agony of soul and body his brave spirit had taken +flight. But Rona's bolt was still unsped. The girl had +hardly begun to finger Life's bowstring. It was almost +as hard to think of the flaming, soaring spirit of her as +quenched, as it was to believe that the matchless perfection, +the supple gracefulness of her body—<i>shooting alligators +to see if any of them had been enjoying anything +extra-special in tucker lately</i>! I could not pursue that +line of thought any further. I agreed with the Doctor +that the fact that the girl had parted with her beloved +shawl indicated that she had reached a jumping-off +place—a point where she had no further use for it. I +could not picture her—living—without its amber-bright +flame streaming about her limbs. The wonder was that +she had not kept it for a shroud. As I came out upon +the deck to go to my boat, the intermittent crack of +rifle shots along the shore told me that the "search" had +not been abandoned.</p> + +<p class="indent">Beyond deciding to go ashore and see if anything further +could be learned, I had made no plans. It seemed +that about the best I could do would be to wait in Townsville +until Allen and Ranga were out of quarantine, and +then let things shape as they would; but always assuming +that, in case the former could not satisfy me he was +innocent of Bell's death, I should do what I could to +settle the reckoning with him. That would be my atonement—to +Bell and to myself—for my sorry failure to +"measure up" the day the <i>Cora Andrews</i> came to Kai +Lagoon.</p> + +<p class="indent">Captain Tancred, who had never quite settled it in his +own mind how a man who openly admitted he had been +living in the Kai colony for months would not have to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" id="page117"></a>[pg 117]</span> +be smuggled ashore on the quiet if he expected to avoid +arrest in Australia, met me at the gangway.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Best to leave the luggage aboard, lad," he began +genially; "then that'll be ain less thing ye'll hae to +bother wi' if ye're haen' to cut an' run for it. If ye're +not back ag'in by the time I'm gettin' awa', than I'll +be sendin' it in for ye on the Company's launch. But +ye'd best be hangin' on wi' me a bittie, an' tak' me to see +them pictur's ye've been tellin' me aboot in Sydney +toon."</p> + +<p class="indent">My pictures! The Exhibition had slipped my mind +completely, driven out by the news of the <i>Cora</i> and the +anxieties that had followed in its train. I had told +Captain Tancred something of my coming show, but had +hardly convinced him. He was far too considerate to +say outright that he didn't believe me, but my Kai origin +could not be ignored. If I was to have an exhibition +of paintings in Sydney, then why was I stopping off in +Townsville? On that point—since I didn't want to go +into the <i>Cora</i> affair with anyone until I knew how things +were going to shape—I had hardly been able to reassure +the old sceptic. I might be an artist all right enough—I +don't think he had any serious doubts on that score,—but +I must also be some kind of a crook. He was plainly +convinced in his own mind that I was trying to slip into +Australia on the quiet, and was rather hurt because I +would not take him into my confidence and let him +help me.</p> + +<p class="indent">But why not take in the Exhibition? In nine days, +with any luck in connections, I could go to Sydney and +back, with a day or two to spare. Even if the trip ran +over that time, it was not likely that the man I wanted +to see would be getting away immediately.... And, +in any event, I would know how to find him, whether in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" id="page118"></a>[pg 118]</span> +Australia or the Islands. Further, it could not but have +a salutary effect on my nerves to get quite beyond the +attraction I felt that Quarantine Station would have for +me if I lingered within physical reach of it. Nothing +but absinthe, and more absinthe, and then more absinthe, +could be depended upon to relieve my nerves once +they were fully wrought up, as I knew they must be if I +remained in Townsville in enforced inaction, fretting my +heart out with impatience. And too much absinthe +would mean only one thing—that I would begin the day +on which I was to meet "Slant" Allen for a final showdown +in a condition of mind and body precisely similar +to that in which I had entered upon another day of +accursed memory—and, doubtless, with equally shameful +consequences to myself.</p> + +<p class="indent">These thoughts flashed through my mind in a fraction +of the time I have taken to set them down. My reply +to Captain Tancred followed close upon his suggestion +that I leave my luggage aboard.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I think I'll be going through to Sydney with you, +Captain—or at least as far as Brisbane," I said, motioning +to the steward to bring up the bags he had already +stowed in the waiting boat. "I know no one whose +opinion on my daubs I'd rather have than yours. But +I'll pay my little visit ashore here just the same, counting +on you to get my kit landed in the unlikely event of +my not being aboard again when you get under way this +afternoon."</p> + +<p class="indent">I was not long in coming to the conclusion that there +was nothing new to be learned ashore, that is, with respect +to what had happened on the <i>Cora</i> in the course of +her voyage from Kai. This was not because the story +was not on everyone's lips.... Quite to the contrary, +indeed, the town was agog with the dramatic suddenness +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" id="page119"></a>[pg 119]</span> +of the arrival of the plague ship and its astonishing +sequel. But as no one had been allowed to see +any of the survivors, such accounts as were current were +only those which had been passed out by the quarantine +people, and about all the latter knew I felt that I had +already gathered that morning from the Doctor on the +<i>Utupua</i>. Bell's name was not mentioned, and not a man +I talked with knew that the dead white man had been the +Skipper.</p> + +<p class="indent">For Townsville—for all of Australia—the overwhelming +appeal of the event was in the fact that a black-birding +schooner had been brought into port by an ex-Ticket-of-Leavester, +who had <i>volunteered</i> to risk his life +in an attempt to save those of half a hundred plague-stricken +niggers. That one circumstance in itself was +wonderful enough, but when, on top of it, the announcement +was made that the hero was none other than the +former idol of sporting Australia, the Hon. Hartley +Allen, popular imagination was stirred as rarely ever +before. What man in all the Antipodes had not envied +Allen, the supremely successful owner, rider and sportsman? +What woman had not been intrigued by the +romantic dash of him? What boy had not dreamed of +growing up in his image?</p> + +<p class="indent">Townsville, delirious with the dramatic appeal of this +splendid act on the part of a man who had tasted the wine +of adulation as he had drunk the dregs of infamy, was +but a microcosm of Sydney and Melbourne, Brisbane and +Adelaide, to all of which the news had been flashed by +wire. Every town and hamlet, from Cairns to Hobart, +from Perth to Woolongong, were dispatching telegrams +of congratulation to a man who was still muttering in +his drunken sleep behind the walls of the Townsville +Quarantine Station. Sydney was competing with Brisbane +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" id="page120"></a>[pg 120]</span> +for the honour of being the first to bestow the +"Freedom of the City" upon the man both of them had +had some share in transporting. A special from Sydney +to the local sheet, hinted darkly of what might happen to +the misguided official who attempted to revive any of +the old charges against the man "whose sublime courage +had emblazoned his name upon the tablets of undying +fame.... A hand that is raised today against the +Hon. Hartley Allen is a hand that is raised against the +noblest traditions of Australia."</p> + +<p class="indent">I had to elbow through half of a densely packed block +to read that last on the bulletin in front of the <i>Trumpet's</i> +office. The mob cheered wildly as the message was +chalked up on the blackboard—cheered the stirring sentiment +and growled ominously at the suggestion that +any hand would dare to be raised against the Hon. +Hartley Allen and the noblest traditions of Australia. +As I elbowed my way out again, I wondered just what +the Charters Towers miner, who had manifested his exuberant +approval by slapping me on the back, would +have thought—nay, what he would have done—had he +known that the hand fingering the guard of the revolver +in the right side-pocket of my shooting jacket (I had +brought the useful little weapon on the off chance that +it might be needed) was rather more likely than not to +be raised against at least one of those cherished institutions +he was so anxious to uphold.</p> + +<p class="indent">I began to perceive that the line between dealing out +retributive justice to a blackguard of a murderer and +assassinating a national hero in cold blood might easily +become too hairlike in its tenuousness for a red-eyed +Australian jury to admit the existence of it. For it was +nothing less than a national hero that "Slant" Allen +was becoming, even before he roused from the heavy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" id="page121"></a>[pg 121]</span> +sleep which had held him ever since he collapsed over the +wheel as the <i>Cora</i> came to anchor. That circumstance, +I told myself, complicated my task beyond measure, +though I couldn't, of course, allow it to make any difference +in my program in the event Allen wasn't able to +satisfy me that he was guiltless of the murder of my +friend. But if things should transpire which might +make Allen anxious to put <i>me</i> out of the way—if he, not +I were the attacking party—that would simplify things +greatly. I began to ponder that felicitous possibility.</p> + +<p class="indent">Would not the fact that I was the only living man +(Ranga, whatever he had seen or heard, would hardly +need to be reckoned with as a witness) who knew the +actual facts about the way he had "volunteered" to join +the <i>Cora</i> at Kai awaken a desire in Allen's lawless breast +to seal my mouth for good and all, now that he had so +much to lose by the truth's coming out? The feeling +that such would be the case—that the dizzily mounting +fortunes of the ex-beach-comber would ultimately impel +him to seek me out for an understanding—grew on me +more and more as I turned the situation over in my mind, +until at last it became a certainty, against which I felt +justified in preparing as a boxer trains for a definitely +scheduled prize fight.</p> + +<p class="indent">I did not reckon it worth while to call at the Quarantine +Station, which was some distance from the town and +not easy to reach. I did, however, just before I put off +to the ship, meet the young doctor with whom I had +talked in the morning. The only thing which he was able +to add to what he had already told me was in connection +with the question I had raised respecting the cause of +Bell's death. To be certain that he had been correct in +stating that the latter had not died of plague, he had +made a special inquiry. In response to this he had been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" id="page122"></a>[pg 122]</span> +shown a slide made from a smear they had taken of the +late Skipper's blood. The bacteriologist had seen to that +immediately the body was landed. It showed no traces +whatever of plague bacilli. I could be quite assured on +that point. The Chief was unwilling to hazard an +opinion as to what the real cause of the man's death +might have been. He seemed rather to regret that he +had failed to order a post-mortem. Allen was still +sleeping heavily, but would be right as a trivet beyond a +doubt as soon as he woke up and gave them a chance to +sweat some of the alcohol out of his hide. Pulse steady +as a church.... Temperature a shade sub-normal. +Marvellous constitution.... Wonderful fellow altogether. +Any word of the girl? No, nothing. Ten +pounds reward had been offered for the recovery of her +body, or any recognizable part of it. Search was still +going on, and he pointed across to the opposite foreshore, +where a couple of spindling Hindu coolies—evidently +sugar plantation contract hands—were earnestly engaged +in performing "<i>hari-kiri</i>" upon a plethoric 'gator +they had just bagged and towed to the beach.</p> + +<p class="indent">The Doctor was already beginning to look ahead. Did +I fancy Allen would be able to wangle it so as to get +an entry in for the Melbourne Cup in the short time +that remained before that classic was run? Entries +closed some time ago, of course. He'd have to square +it with the stewards some way. They might make a +special exception, seeing who Allen was, and what he +had just done. Any horse with his colours would carry +a barrel of money, just out of sentiment if nothing else. +Did I think he would wangle an entry?</p> + +<p class="indent">"No," I replied, stepping down into my boat. "No, +I'm afraid the chances are all against it." My mind +had been torn with doubt over a number of things that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" id="page123"></a>[pg 123]</span> +day.... It was a relief to be asked to express an +opinion on a matter respecting which I had no doubt.... +Not a shred of it.</p> + +<p class="indent">Captain Tancred welcomed me back to the <i>Utupua</i> +with a significant grin. "So ye didna find the outlook +ashore to yer likin' lad?" he boomed boisterously, +thumping me on the back. "Weel, dinna ye mind, since +ye wasna nabbed. I'll be findin' a wa' to slip ye aff in +Sydney sae they wan't be puttin' nose to yer trail till +ye're clean awa'." The look on the old boy's face was +a study when, a few days later, after the tugs had nosed +his ship into her berth at the Circular Quay, I stalked +brazenly off down the gangway, with no more regard for +the two Bobbies guarding the dock gate than they had +for me. He had exacted two promises from me before +he let me go: one, that I was to take him to see my pictures, +and the other, that I would not fail to let him +know if there ever came a time when he could be of +Service to me.... "Real sarvice, lad; you'll be twiggin' +wha' I mean." I gave both promises freely, just as +I kept them later—yes, both of them.</p> + +<p class="indent">As I had trunks, with all the common accessories of +civilization, stored at the <i>Australia</i>, my transformation +from a beach-comber to a fairly correct imitation of a +comfortably heeled artist was the matter of but a few +hours. My appearance at the Exhibition could not have +been better timed. The affair had been extremely well +handled from the first. I had been sending pictures to +Sydney from all parts of the South Seas for the last +eighteen months, packing them up as completed and +getting them off whenever opportunity offered. Two or +three had been lost, but, on the whole, I reckoned the +plan safer than trying to take them round with me in +one lot, at the risk of losing the bunch.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page124" id="page124"></a>[pg 124]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER X<br /> +<small>ART AND SUSPENSE</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">Nothing</span> had been further from my mind than +an Australian exhibition. I cared little for the +provincial approbation of the Antipodes, and I +was hardly ready for Paris—not quite yet. It was only +at the reiterated requests of friends (two of them were +young Australian artists I had known in my student +days in Paris), to whom I was under real obligations for +their kindness in receiving and storing my pictures as +they dribbled into Sydney, that I finally gave consent to +a public showing. In doing this, I had stipulated particularly +that they were to take all the troubles and +responsibilities of the affair, and that under no circumstances +was I to be expected to appear in person—unless, +of course, it suited my convenience and inclination at the +time.</p> + +<p class="indent">As I have said, the affair had been most intelligently +handled from the first. There had not been enough of +my canvases comfortably to fill the wing of the big New +South Wales Government Museum and Art Gallery +which was available for exhibitions, but my friends, +rather than pull the show off at a less pretentious and +worse lighted gallery, had added enough of their own +pictures to relieve the coldness of otherwise blank walls. +These were also South Sea marines—it was a straight +seascape show throughout,—but more or less conventional +in inspiration and execution. Benchley might +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page125" id="page125"></a>[pg 125]</span> +have been painting marine backgrounds for an aquarium, +so faithfully did he labour to reproduce every detail of +jutting coral branches and floating seaweed. Crafts, +on the other hand, had fallen early under the influence +of Turner, and persisted in bulling the yellow ochre +market by drenching his Great Barrier Reef seascapes +with such a flood of golden light as was never seen save +at the head of the Adriatic and now and then on the +coasts of Tripoli and Algeria.</p> + +<p class="indent">I would hardly characterize my own work as a compromise +between these two extremes.... It was <i>not</i> +that, though I <i>was</i> less of a slave to form than Benchley, +and by no means so emancipated from it as Crafts. +Rather, I should say, I was striving, independent of +either classic or contemporary influence, to paint such +depth, warmth and atmosphere into my tropical seascapes +as would make them convey an <i>intenser</i> suggestion +of reality. I did not expect water spaniels to pay me +the subtle compliment of trying to gambol in my breakers, +nor children to try to launch their toy sailboats in +my lagoons.... Benchley's "colour photograph" +effects were more likely to attain to those distinctions +than my comparatively impressionistic sketches. What +I was striving for was an effect that would compel some +such comment as old Jackson had made the first time +he stood off and conned my "Swells and Shells"—"Gawd +bly'me, that's <i>it</i>! That water's wetter 'n a swept +deck, an', s'elp me Mike, but I c'n bloomin' near sniff +them bloody clams!"</p> + +<p class="indent">Very naturally, then, since the sea was what I was +painting, the impressions of anyone who didn't know the +sea as intimately as did my beach-combing cronies of Kai +wasn't going to worry me much. The opinions of men +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page126" id="page126"></a>[pg 126]</span> +who knew less about the subject of my pictures, and +more about how pictures in general were painted, didn't +strike me as anything that counted very seriously. +Nevertheless when, at Brisbane on the voyage south, I +got the Sydney papers with the account of the opening +of the show, it was a good deal of a satisfaction to find +that my work appeared to have got over with the art +critics. These had, of course (since they were denied +Jackson's facility of expression), to confine themselves +to the jargon of their kind. It was plain, however, that +they had been favourably impressed, and were doing +the best they could with their comparatively restricted +vocabularies. Mere city dwellers, too, most of them, one +had to allow for their limited capacity of appreciation +for something—the sea—which they knew only from +other pictures. But even allowing for that, it was reassuring +to find that they were coming across so whole-heartedly. +Such capsules of praise as they had in stock +were scattered with lavish hands for whoso would to +swallow. "The soul of the sea palpitates through every +canvas," said the <i>Herald</i>; "you leave the gallery with +the tang of blown brine fresh in your nostrils," said the +<i>Telegraph</i>; "Australia is honoured with having the +first chance to see this brilliantly distinctive work," said +the illustrated <i>Australasian</i>, and promised four full pages +of reproductions of the "gems of the collection" in its +next issue. The young lady (I judged she was young) +who was on the job for the Melbourne <i>Age</i> gushed +breathlessly for a column and a half. This was a sample: +"In 'Mother-of-Pearl' he has woven with a warp +of sunbeams and a woof of rainbow—a shimmering brocade +of exultantly sentient brightness!" Capsules of +praise, every one of these; but they were from the top +shelf beyond a doubt, and the fact that they had been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" id="page127"></a>[pg 127]</span> +reached for indicated that at least something of my message +had dribbled over the frames.</p> + +<p class="indent">The <i>Bulletin</i> had done rather better than the others in +commissioning for the occasion an "art critic" who (as +transpired in the course of his half-page article) had +sailed his own sixty-footer to Auckland and back. He, +at least, had met the sea on more intimate terms than +was possible through Sunday mixed-bathing at Coogee +and Manley (with occasional ferryboat passages, about +the limit the others had gone, I reckoned). Said he, in +speaking of "The Seventh Son of a Seventh Son": "The +beat of the eternal sea was behind every slash of the +brush with which this Franco-American wizard of light +and colour painted that rolling mountain of water. I +felt my fingers involuntarily clutching at the spokes of +the wheel to bring her up to meet the menace of that +curling crest. I forgot where I was ... I almost felt +the heave of a deck beneath my feet...."</p> + +<p class="indent">I rather liked that, I must confess; though perhaps +it didn't give me quite the double-barrelled thrill of +"Heifer" Halligan's comment when I sent for him to +pass judgment on that same picture before the paint of +my finishing touches upon it was dry. A month before, +as I have already mentioned, I had given the "Heifer" +a pretty severe pummelling with the four-ounce gloves, +and, like the good sport he was, to show that there was +no hard feeling on the score of his battered optics, he +had volunteered to sail me in his sloop to Tuka-tuva (the +reef on which Bell lost the <i>Flying Scud</i>, it may be recalled) +so that I could make some close-range studies +of hard-running waves at the point of breaking. And, +just to show that there was no hard feeling on <i>my</i> part +over the wallop below my belt with which the "Heifer" +had finally brought the bout to a close, I accepted. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" id="page128"></a>[pg 128]</span> +studies had been made—just a few slashes on oil-cloth +with a rather useful waterproof paint I had mixed specially +for "sloppy" stunts like that—with my shivering +anatomy lashed to the <i>Wet-Eyed Susy's</i> bowsprit, while +the "Heifer" tacked back and forth just beyond the line +where the pull of the shoaling reef, dragging at their +bases, let the green-black tops of the combers tumble over +in a thunderous roar. As he was really taking a good +deal of a chance of losing his handy little pearler, if +nothing else, it was only right that the "Heifer's" request +for a first look-see at the completed picture should +have the call.</p> + +<p class="indent">He studied it in silence for a minute or two, legs wide +apart and his bullet head cocked judicially to one side. +Then his fine teeth were bared in a broad grin and he +vented a throaty chuckle of amused admiration. Said +he: "Mister Whitney, that hulkin' ol' lalapalooser there +looks like he has all the kick behint him of that bally +wallop on the solar plexus you floored me with the other +day." Not even the Sydney <i>Bulletin's dilletante</i> yachtsman +could do quite as well as that—from my standpoint, +at least. But of course I had a weakness for the Kai +viewpoint.</p> + +<p class="indent">The Exhibition had been opened early in the week—the +usual affair of the kind, "Under the Patronage and +in the Presence of His Excellency, the Governor General +and Lady X——," and a long list of specially invited +guests. Amiable old Lord X—— had made one of the +happy little speeches for which he was famous. Then +they had all had tea and a look at the pictures. This +inevitable formal session out of the way, the show was +opened to the general public. Under the stimulus of the +astonishingly enthusiastic press, the public had come +through beyond all expectations. For the next three days +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" id="page129"></a>[pg 129]</span> +the crush at the gallery was, as the <i>Bulletin</i> had it, like a +"bargain day rush at <i>Morden's</i>." On Friday, it was +advertised, Sir Joseph Preston, R.A., a very distinguished +English artist visiting in Australia, had consented +to speak at the Exhibition on "The Painter with +the New Method and the New Message." This was the +day of my arrival in Sydney. It did not occur to me at +first just who the subject of the discourse was to be. +When it finally came home to me, I began speeding up +my transformation process at once. By dint of rushed +valeting and dressing, I just managed to reach the gallery +as Sir Joseph was getting under way.</p> + +<p class="indent">I won't endeavour to set down his speech, not even in +outline. It was highly complimentary from first to last—and +not even condescending, which was as surprising as +pleasing when one considered how lofty an eminence Sir +Joseph occupied in the art world. One thing I was just +a bit disappointed about, though, was that the speaker +seemed to assume that the pictures on exhibition represented +my ultimate expression, the best I could do, or +could be expected to do; whereas I knew that I had +hardly got my foot well planted on the first rung of the +ladder. I regretted without resenting this. I hadn't +painted my hopes and ambitions into the pictures, so how +was Sir Joseph Preston, more than anybody else, to see +what I was driving at? I rather wanted to tell him about +it, though. I hadn't talked with an artist of the old +boy's calibre since I was in Paris, and not often there.</p> + +<p class="indent">I was just screwing up my nerve to push in and introduce +myself, when Benchley pounced upon me with a +joyous whoop and did the thing as a matter of course. +Totally oblivious of the widening circle of wondering +cackle that arose as the news of my unexpected, and not +undramatic, appearance spread outward through the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" id="page130"></a>[pg 130]</span> +jam, I held forth to the beaming Royal Academician on +the things that had been passing through my mind. The +great man fired as though he had been of tow and my +words—my ideas—were a torch laid to the inflammable +mass of him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Magnificent! Perfectly ripping!" he exclaimed +with enthusiasm; "but what a shame I didn't know that +ten minutes ago so that I could have told them! By +Jove, I'll tell them now! Better yet—jolly good idea; +<i>you</i> tell them. Just the things you've been telling me."</p> + +<p class="indent">Benchley, Crafts and my other sponsors descended +upon me like a pack of hounds at those words, and the +first thing I knew I had been hustled up onto their little +dais, and Sir Joseph was introducing me as "a gentleman +who can make a few pertinent additions to my late remarks."</p> + +<p class="indent">I hadn't been called upon for a speech since I won the +middle-weight boxing championship of Harvard in my +Junior year, and speaking was by no means my long +suit even in those days. I bucked up and went through +it now though, just as I did on that first occasion. It's +no very difficult thing to get away with when you know +what you want to say—and have the crowd with you. +I spoke briefly, but very earnestly—very much to the +point, too, I think. When the crowd had quieted down +a bit, tea was served. The next morning, when I read +the papers in bed, it was to discover that I had become +a fully fledged—or perhaps maned is the proper word—lion.</p> + +<p class="indent">In one of those same papers there was an interesting +item of news about another lion. The special representative +the <i>Herald</i> had rushed to Townsville immediately +the news of the <i>Cora Andrews</i> affair had been received, +wired that the Hon. Hartley Allen, replying from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" id="page131"></a>[pg 131]</span> +the Quarantine Station to a note the correspondent had +addressed him there, announced definitely that it was his +intention to pay a visit to his old home town of Sydney. +He would leave by the first steamer sailing after the +doctors had certified him free of the danger of plague +infection.</p> + +<p class="indent">That was good news. The best I could have hoped +for. It confirmed my growing belief that I was not +going to have to do much, if any, seeking in order to +meet my man. And it was a hundred to one that the +doctor with whom I had talked on the <i>Utupua</i> had told +Allen of the conversation as soon as the latter came out +of his long sleep, I was even inclined to the opinion that +his decision to go south as soon as he could had been +influenced by a desire to find out once and for all what +attitude I was going to take toward him. This was all +to the good. There was no need of my hurrying back to +Townsville now. I could stay in Sydney and enjoy my +triumph while watching that of the Hon. Hartley Allen +develop. With a lighter heart than I had known since +the rumble of the <i>Cora's</i> anchor chain awakened me +on that day of hateful memory in Kai, I tumbled out of +bed, took a cold bath, and went down to the dining-room +for breakfast—the greatest burst of early matutinal +energy I had shown in years.</p> + +<p class="indent">The avidity of the interest of the public in the Hon. +Hartley Allen increased day by day as the time +approached for the hero to come south. All of the important +papers had special men on the job in Townsville, +and every scrap of news bearing the least relation +to the man of the hour was instantly put on the wires +and rushed into print. Save for that one announcement +that he intended visiting Sydney, Allen himself gave out +nothing. The correspondents had to confine themselves +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" id="page132"></a>[pg 132]</span> +to reports of his continued improvement in health, as +passed out to them by the doctors, and to speculation—columns +of it—as to what effect Allen's return might be +expected to have upon racing. His elder brother—Sir +James, who was now in England—had allowed Hartley's +stable to run down a good deal after the latter had been +shipped off to the Islands. There were a few good +horses left after the best of the string had been sold to +pay off debts, and these would form a nucleus which +could not fail to develop quickly into a factor to be +reckoned with in the meets of next season. There was +no limit to the discussion of this phase of the affair, Melbourne +and Sydney racing experts devoting even more +space to it than the special men in Townsville.</p> + +<p class="indent">Of the story of the <i>Cora Andrews</i> there was nothing +new whatever being brought out. If Allen was telling +the doctors at the Quarantine Station anything, it must +have been in confidence, for these professed to have +learned nothing further every time the correspondents +pressed them for details. The schooner herself, it was +reported, had broken from her mooring during a gale +and been driven upon the beach of Cleveland Bay, some +miles from the town. A hole had been stove in her bow +and it would be impossible to get her off before considerable +repairs were carried out. As she had not been +disinfected since the removal of the plague victims, there +would probably be some delay about the repairs, especially +as the question of her ownership was in doubt. +She had belonged to the man who sailed her in the +labour-recruiting trade, and he was dead. So was the +Skipper who had taken her over in the Louisiades. It +looked like the Hon. Hartley Allen had the most valid +claim to her, but that was a matter to be adjusted by +the courts in any event. In the meantime, the schooner, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" id="page133"></a>[pg 133]</span> +as she was lying in fairly quiet water, was probably safe +until the next gale. Thus the papers.</p> + +<p class="indent">When Allen finally came out of quarantine it transpired +that he would have a wait of three days on his +hands before there was a steamer departing for the south. +The delay was unavoidable, although an enthusiastic +Sydney paper had suggested that the Admiral commanding +the Australian Naval Station should detach a gunboat +to bring the hero home. Allen, it appeared, had +actually tried to avoid meeting the newspaper men, and +consented to do so finally only on the condition that he +would not be expected to give out anything in the way +of an interview in respect to his past, present or future. +As they had no alternative in the matter, the correspondents +accepted the ultimatum, but only—as most of +them confessed—in the hope of getting it modified when +action was joined. They were doomed to disappointment.</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen received them on the veranda of a house that had +been put at his disposal by a prominent local shipping +man—a detached bungalow in the grounds of the latter's +home on the outskirts of the town. They reported him +looking rather soft—a good two stone heavier than his +former riding weight. He was heavily browned from the +tropical sun, showed a tinge of yellow—doubtless from +malaria and <i>dengue</i>,—and his face was deeply lined +about the eyes and mouth. He looked to have aged +rather more than the five years of his absence: but life +in the Islands was hardly the rest cure most Australians +fancied it. No, not by a long shot.</p> + +<p class="indent">Except for his refusal to tell anything whatever of the +story of how he had brought the plague ship through the +Great Barrier Reef, Allen had been very courteous and +agreeable to the pressmen. They all agreed that he was +in good fettle—quite full of beans. Indeed, it was Allen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" id="page134"></a>[pg 134]</span> +who did all of the interviewing. Persistently refusing to +answer any questions about himself, he was avid of interest +concerning all that had happened in the racing +world during his absence. What were the real facts +behind the breakdown of the Colchester filly after she +had won the Victoria National so handily? Who was +that colt <i>Ballarat Boy</i> out of?—the one that had upset +all the dope in the spring meet at Adelaide. Were Tod +Sloan and Skeets Martin still piling up wins in England? +What was the secret of their success? Was there +any chance of these or any other of the Yank jockeys +coming to Australia?</p> + +<p class="indent">Answering such questions as these for an hour was the +way that bunch of high-salaried feature writers interviewed +the Hon. Hartley Allen. And when, as one of +them put it in somewhat mixed simile, they were +"pumped dry as a last year's dope sheet," the hero announced +that the interview was over.</p> + +<p class="indent">Disappointed in their endeavours to pry any pearls +from the oyster into which Allen (for reasons best +known to himself) had metamorphosed himself, the correspondents +made the best of a bad job by playing up +the modesty of the man they had been sent a thousand +miles or so to interview. Modest was an adjective that—in +the light of what most of them knew of Allen's past—it +hadn't occurred to any of them to use before. Now, +however, they made up for lost time. The modest hero +did this, or the modest hero said that.... There was +modesty in the way he stroked his chin, in the shrug +of his shoulders, in the way he crossed and uncrossed +his legs when sitting. His habit of looking sideways +when speaking was rated as a sign of modesty; so was +the trick of stroking his cheroot between thumb and forefinger +as he smoked. <i>Modest</i>—<i>hero</i>—those words became +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" id="page135"></a>[pg 135]</span> +permanently wedded in my mind during the week that +I was reading leaders written with them for an inspiration, +the report of sermons preached with them as a text. +I cannot hear the one of them to this day without thinking +of the other. <i>Modest hero!</i> In the estimation of the +public "Slant" Allen, whom I had always thought of as +the most egotistic man I had ever known, remained that +to the—until public estimation ceased to interest him.</p> + +<p class="indent">There was one little item of news telegraphed from +Townsville which I read with a good deal of grim amusement. +The day before his departure Allen was given +some kind of a send-off in the Town Hall. As he was +riding down the main street on his way to this affair, +a man ducked under the rope holding the crowd back at +the curb, rushed at the open carriage and aimed a blow +at the breast of the hero with a knife. No whit perturbed, +the latter had coolly deflected the thrust by +striking up the assailant's elbow with his left hand. +Then, seizing the ruffian's wrist with his right hand, he +had brought it sharply down on the edge of the carriage +door, shattering the bones and causing the knife to fall +from the relaxed fingers to the pavement. Infuriated +by the dastardly attack, the crowd had set upon the +would-be assassin, who was only saved from being +mauled to death through the interference of none other +than Allen himself.</p> + +<p class="indent">The correspondents were much impressed, not only by +the behaviour of the generous-hearted hero in intervening +to save the life of the man who had just tried to take +his own, but also—and especially—by a curious little +circumstance in connection therewith. It was observed, +in short, that, while Allen had defended his own body +most effectually with his bare hands, as soon as he saw +that the man who had attacked him was on the verge of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page136" id="page136"></a>[pg 136]</span> +being killed by a bloody-minded mob, quite beyond +police control, he whipped out a revolver and used the +menace of it to clear a space around the trampled body +of his late assailant. The correspondents all thought +that was rather fine; indeed, I was inclined to think so +myself.</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen had flatly refused to lodge a complaint against +the man who had tried so desperately to knife him, and +even declined to help the police in their attempt to identify +the fellow. "Just an old Island affair, the big-hearted +hero had explained with a careless laugh, as he +turned on his way to receive the Golden Key symbolizing +the Freedom of the Queen City of Northern Queensland." +That was the way the <i>Herald</i> man had it.</p> + +<p class="indent">At the Police Station the prisoner was recognized at +once as a man named Saunders, who had been convicted +of a series of bullion robberies in the Kalgoorlie gold +fields of Western Australia some years previously. Because +of his diabolical practice of throwing red pepper +and vitriol to blind his victims, he had gained the sobriquet +of "The Squid." He had escaped after serving +but eighteen months of his twenty-five-year sentence and +made his way across the "Never-Never" to Port Darwin, +where all trace of him was lost for the time. He was +supposed to have slipped away to the Islands. This was +confirmed a few months later, when a boatload of out-bound +placer miners were held up and robbed of the +fruits of their season's work in the Fly gold fields of +New Guinea. Even if one of them, who had once been +in Western Australia, had not identified Saunders, the +fact that a jar of sulphuric acid had been thrown into +the midst of the miners would have connected "The +Squid" with the crime beyond a doubt. Australia had +but fragmentary record of his later crimes, but he was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page137" id="page137"></a>[pg 137]</span> +known to have been mixed up in a number of pearl +robberies in and about Thursday Island. He had continued +to practise his vitriol-throwing trick (varying it +occasionally with a fiendishly original stunt with some +native concoction), and was still known as "The Squid." +How long he had been lying low in Australia, or why +he ventured there, he refused to tell; neither would he +offer any explanation of his savage attack upon the hero +of the hour. All he had said in the latter connection was: +"'Slant' 'll twig why I took a flyer at returning the +pig-sticker to him—it was his onct."</p> + +<p class="indent">I understood at once that the root of "The Squid's" +grudge against Allen struck back to that affair of the +old pearl pirate's missionary-reared daughter—a copper-haired, +ivory-browed Amazon of a girl who had become +one of the most consummate sirens in the pearleries +after a three-months trip with "Slant" to Singapore +had broken her in. Amazing story the whole thing, +from its beginning with the girl's mother—a teacher in +the Gospel Propaganda Society's school at Thursday +Island who had fallen afoul of one of "The Squid's" +tentacles long before his conviction—to its ghastly finish, +when the girl herself settled her accumulated account +against all mankind with the body and soul of one—a +hot-headed lump of a young missionary just out from +London.</p> + +<p class="indent">According to the version current in Kai, Allen had +not been greatly to blame in the affair with the temperamental +rack of bones and red braids that the girl +was when she burst upon the Islands from the Auckland +convent; but "The Squid" evidently felt that the man +who had set the snowball (not a very apt metaphor, for +I never heard the girl compared to anything so frigid) +rolling was the one to settle with. I had heard of three +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page138" id="page138"></a>[pg 138]</span> +or four rather ingeniously thought-out attempts he had +made to square the account, all of which, however, +had failed as a consequence of Allen's quickness of wit +and hand in sudden emergency. The knife figuring in +the Townsville attack, it occurred to me, was probably +the one the resourceful "Slant" had put through "The +Squid's" shoulder at twenty paces a fraction of a second +before the latter had delivered a flask of red pepper +from his upraised hand.</p> + +<p class="indent">I also thought I understood why Allen had bluntly +refused to make any explanation of the attack. A veritable +Turk in his relations with women, that Island +Lothario had also the Turk's dislike for discussing his +women in public. When sober, Allen rarely if ever +boasted about anything. When very drunk, he would +occasionally toot a horn anent his racing wins; and once, +when he was all but swamped—awash to the rails with +"Three Star"—I had heard him give a maudlin monologue +on men he had put away. But I—and no one else, +so far as I knew—had ever heard him talk of the girls +he had bagged, though the Lord knows there had been +enough of them. (The nearest he ever came to it was in +that little joke of his I have mentioned—the one about +having "a son and a saddle in every island group in +the South Pacific,"—and that was only a sort of delicate +implication.) His close-mouthedness about women was +one of a number of little things I couldn't help but liking +in the rascal.</p> + +<p class="indent">Since Allen and Saunders would not talk, and since +the knife that figured in the affair—a heavy dirk, with +a shark's hide handle and the mark of a Lisbon cutlerer +on the blade—could not talk, the ever-baffled Townsville +correspondents had been able to gather practically nothing +about what their journalistic noses told them was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" id="page139"></a>[pg 139]</span> +a red-hot human interest story. Blocked on that trail, +they devoted a lot of space to a discussion of the interesting +revelation of the hero's Island nickname. More or +less ingenious theories as to "Why 'Slant'?" filled the +columns of the papers for a number of days. None of +them was within a mile of the mark. One of the correspondents +fancied the name had been given Allen +because of his "aquilinity, his wiry slenderness, so that +he clove the air like a slant of sunbeams as he rode." +Another writer was sure the name was suggested by the +hero's peculiar crouching seat—the slant of his back as +he urged on his mount. They were quite incapable of +going beyond Allen's physical characteristics, or of +visualizing him save on horseback.</p> + +<p class="indent">That added another little item to the list of things +I could have enlightened the press and the public on +about "Slant" Allen, and, in this particular instance, +I wouldn't have minded passing on the facts at once. Indeed, +I made rather a hit at a Government House +luncheon one day by telling how the nearing hero (he +was expected to be landing at Brisbane on the morrow) +had qualified for his queer nickname. Jackson, who was +responsible for the title, had confided to me how he came +to bestow it. There was no story behind it, as some of +the papers had hinted. Old "Jack," after having known +Allen pretty intimately for a couple of years, came to +the conclusion one day that the lanky Sydney-sider was +the first man he ever met who persistently and consistently +kept him guessing. Given a situation, and the +foxy old highwayman had discovered that he could +usually tell in advance how any given man would be +likely to meet it. It was after he had guessed wrong +about Allen some dozens of times, without once guessing +right, that Jackson made up his mind that there was no +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" id="page140"></a>[pg 140]</span> +forecasting the "slant of his course from the slant of +the breeze." And because something in the mellifluous +sound of the word struck pleasantly on the trader's ear, +he began applying the name to the man who had inspired +it. "No re'l reason for it," he explained; "but it sure +do seem to fit 'im like a new copper bottom does a +schooner."</p> + +<p class="indent">The Governor General's Aide-de-camp, who was +something of a follower of the ponies, confirmed Jackson's +opinion and the fitness of the sobriquet. Said the +gaily uniformed "Galloper": "The great secret of Allen's +astonishing success as a point-to-point rider was his +amazing faculty for bringing off the unexpected. Once, +at Launceston, I saw him win on a hundred-to-one shot +(how he happened to be riding the skate I don't know) +by deliberately bolting the course and putting his mount +full tilt through a thorn thicket. He was in tenth place, +with a mile to go when he did it, and he won the race +by a dozen lengths—his own and the waler's hide in +tatters.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Another unexpected win of Allen's," he continued +with the wry grin of a man who speaks of dearly bought +experience, "was that 'Totalisator' coup of his at Adelaide. +His pals got in on the 'Tote' somehow, and—" +A warning cough from Lord X—— checked the loquacious +"Galloper's" tongue in mid-flight, and, with reddening +gill, he faded away with: "Sorry, sir, but I +forgot it isn't quite—quite the thing to remember that +little chapter of Hartley Allen's past. Quite right, +really. My mistake. Dead sorry, sir...."</p> + +<p class="indent">There was no doubt that Allen was going to have a +clean-scored slate to begin writing anew on. I was thinking +of that, and "Why 'Slant'?", as I walked back to +the hotel an hour later. "No forecasting the slant of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" id="page141"></a>[pg 141]</span> +his course from the slant of the breeze!"... "Faculty +for bringing off the unexpected." I hoped that he +wasn't going to disappoint me in the matter of bringing +things to a showdown on his arrival in Sydney. But no.... +My every instinct told me that he would not side-step +that. So I made all preparations properly to receive +"Slant" Allen, and, on the day of his triumphant +home-coming, was waiting for him in my room at the +<i>Australia</i>, as I have already told.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" id="page142"></a>[pg 142]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XI<br /> +<small>A HERO'S HOMECOMING</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">It</span> was two o'clock when I began powdering and +screening the yellow-hued inner lining of my sea +shells. Subconsciously, I must have set three in my +mind as the time my caller would come, for it was not +until that hour that I ceased my absorbingly interesting +labours and looked at my watch. So far as I can recall, +I felt no concern one way or the other. I simply noted +that the hour had gone by without bringing my expected +visitor, and went back to my work.</p> + +<p class="indent">As a matter of fact, having just made a most gratifying +discovery, I was rather glad that the interruption +had not come. I had isolated a new and wonderful +colour—a dark coppery gold that I had yearned for +every time I saw sunlight filtering through brine onto +the gently undulating leaves of reef-rooted kelp. Now +I had it; and it was not an accident—I could do it again. +By standing on edge a fragment of one of the big +bivalves I was experimenting with, I discovered that a +sharp blow with the side of my pestle caused the thinnest +of chips to fly from its enamel-like lining. These, +glassily translucent as they fell, when reduced in the +mortar gave a warm, almost glowing powder of exactly +the hue I sought. Now if I could only devise a way of +mixing it effectively....</p> + +<p class="indent">So well were my innermost faculties set to respond to +that expected knock, that, when it came, not even the +mazes of exultant speculation in which my discovery had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page143" id="page143"></a>[pg 143]</span> +set my brain—my outward wits—to wandering, prevented +instant ganglionic reaction. I didn't have to +think. That had all been done an hour before, and the +necessary orders given. At the alarm, these had only +to be carried out as prearranged. My legs and arms +simply obeyed the directions that had been registered +for them in some convenient little nerve-knots strung +along my spinal column. That carried me, stepping +softly, out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and +past the middle of the sitting-room, well beyond the +direct line of vision of anyone opening the door from +the hall. It was a position from which I must see +anyone coming in before he was able to locate me. The +rest of the order—carried out simultaneously—had to +do with laying the pestle lightly on the bathroom table +and thrusting the hand that had been wielding it deep +into the right-hand pocket of my old shooting jacket.</p> + +<p class="indent">In the second or two that it had taken me to reach +the middle of the sitting-room from the bathroom, my +wits had relinquished their rainbow dreams and were +back on their workaday job. They it was which, now +the limit of ganglionic action had been reached, stepped +in and took command. It was not from nervousness that +I swallowed once and flashed my tongue across my lips +before speaking. I only wanted to be sure my voice was +as firm as I knew the resolution directing it to be. +Speaking sharply, but in a tone not above the ordinary, +I said: "Come in, Allen!"</p> + +<p class="indent">Among the several little surprises in store for me in +the course of the next few minutes, not the least came +when the man on the other side of the door coughed and +cleared his throat as his hand began to turn the knob. +I was just telling myself that such palpable symptoms +of nervousness were very unlike "Slant" Allen to display, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page144" id="page144"></a>[pg 144]</span> +when the door swung inwards and "Slant" Allen +stepped into the room. Allen, but not the Allen I had +known. Absolutely nerved to readiness as I was, the +contrast of this flushed, slightly embarrassed, almost diffident +young chap and the ruthless, cold-blooded badman +I had made every preparation—physical and mental—to +meet came nigh to taking me aback. It was like +clambering up out of a companionway, all set for a +hurricane sweeping the deck—and finding it calm. For +an instant my jaw must have come near to sagging in the +amazement that swept over me. I pulled myself together +quickly, though, and if Allen noticed my momentary +lapse, he gave no sign of it.</p> + +<p class="indent">He was the first to speak. "So you were expecting +me?" he said, but not as though greatly surprised.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Ra-<i>ther</i>," I replied with emphasis. "Look at this!" +and I pulled out the revolver from my right-hand pocket, +released the hair-trigger adjustment, slid the safety-catch, +and laid it on the table by the window. I would +not have been guilty of such an obvious act of bravado +had not my preternaturally acute senses told me that, so +far as Allen was concerned at least, there was not going +to be any occasion to use the weapon. That feeling persisted +even when, as Allen turned slightly in the act of +closing the door, I noticed a very perceptible bulge +where the flimsy corner of his pongee coat swept his lean +right flank. The instant he entered the room I knew +that, whatever motives had brought him there, the intention +of trying to kill me was not among them. Scarcely +less strong were my doubts that I would be able to establish +any valid grounds for killing him. My old sneaking +liking for certain things about the debonair rascal was +not dead.</p> + +<p class="indent">He grinned appreciatively at the sight of the gun, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page145" id="page145"></a>[pg 145]</span> +then, with a perfunctory "You don't mind, do you?" +stepped over and picked it up. I watched him without +misgivings, my mind still busy adjusting itself to the +new aspect.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Was that the toy you used the day you put a bullet +hole through the crown of my new hundred-dollar Payta +hat?" he asked, fingering the exquisitely turned barrel +admiringly. "My own fault, of course. I egged you on +by expressing some doubts of your ability to do it from +your jacket pocket. This looks like ..."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Same gun—same jacket—new pocket," I cut in laconically; +adding: "I was prepared to repeat the operation +just now—with about half a finger less elevation on +the muzzle."</p> + +<p class="indent">It was the real old Allen grin that opened out as the +significance of those concluding words sunk home. Not +the mocking smirk which had curled his lips so much of +the time, but a good, broad, healthy grin that betokened +genuine inward enjoyment. The fellow—I had remarked +it before—had a really keen and inclusive sense +of humour—even inclusive enough to permit his hearty +participation in a laugh that was on himself. But that +irritating sneer (which had died on his lips as a full +realization of Bell's bigness in giving him his choice of +going on the <i>Cora</i> or remaining at Kai came to him)—that +sneer, with the amused contempt for all the world it +connoted, did not reappear. Indeed, I am not sure that +I ever saw it again. Had there been some inward change +in the man to dry up the fount of contempt from which +that ironic smirk rose to his lips? I wasn't clear on that +point yet: but certainly he had been profoundly shaken—deeply +stirred.</p> + +<p class="indent">Save for that expansive grin of real amusement, Allen +made no comment on my implication that I had been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page146" id="page146"></a>[pg 146]</span> +waiting to send a bullet—a few inches below the crown +of his hat. "Sweetest balanced little piece of light +artillery I ever trained," he remarked inconsequentially, +holding the revolver at arm's length and squinting along +the sights to where his reversed image menaced back +from the depths of a full-length mirror. He really admired +the little gun—I could see that by the way his fist +closed on the checked vulcanite grip, by the caressing +touch of his forefinger on the locked trigger.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Made to order by the S. and W. people for my +father," I explained, trying to fall in with his mood as +far as I could. If he had come to talk about revolvers—well, +who in Australia knew more about them than I +did? I continued:</p> + +<p class="indent">"There's two or three of the Governor's own little +gadgets on it, and one or two I had added myself. The +one that I like best is that safety-catch.... Stranger +can't release it till he's been shown how. You never +can tell who may be picking up a gun that's left lying +around, you know. You'll have to admit it would be +doubly painful for a man to be plunked with his own +revolver."</p> + +<p class="indent">I couldn't for the life of me have refrained from that +last little sally, and Allen seemed to enjoy it as much as +I did. His broadened grin showed an extra tooth or +two at each end as he relaxed his extended arm. "I +haven't the least intention of trying to impose that indignity +on you," he laughed. "Besides, you needn't +fear that the significance of that sag in your left-hand +pocket has been lost on me. Had me covered from there +all the time, didn't you?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"As a matter of fact, I had," I replied, beginning to +grin myself; "but this confounded sawed-off <i>Mauser</i> +automatic has an upkick that makes anything like delicate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page147" id="page147"></a>[pg 147]</span> +work quite out of the question. I could wing you +with it from there, no doubt; but the job wouldn't be a +pretty one—nothing that I could take any pride in."</p> + +<p class="indent">I laid the stubby automatic on the table where the +other weapon had been, saying that I always did hate the +drag of a gun in my pocket. Then, letting my glance +wander to the bulge on Allen's right hip, I added pointedly: +"... especially when I can't see any immediate +use ahead for it."</p> + +<p class="indent">Either missing the point of that gentle hint, or else +ignoring it completely, Allen went on playing with the +little S. & W. Breaking it gently with practised hand, +he studied with bent head the smooth, easy action of +the automatic ejector. Just a bit more of a bend, and the +six cartridges slid noiselessly forth and fell into his hand. +He commenced shoving them back, one by one. It was +the last, or the next to the last, of the greasy cylinders +that slipped from his fingers, struck the floor and rolled +under the table. I remarked with admiration the magnificent +swell of the flexed saddle muscles as the thin +<i>pongee</i> tightened over the bent thighs; the narrow hips, +the lean, powerful back, the—</p> + +<p class="indent">"Good God!"</p> + +<p class="indent">The voice, hoarse with awe and surprise, was mine; +but my own mother would hardly have recognized it. +For an instant my quaking knees almost let me collapse +to the floor; then my faltering inward control stiffened +and clapped the brakes on my skidding nerves. By the +time Allen, startled by my sudden exclamation, straightened +up from his scramble after the still unretrieved +cartridge, I had myself fully in hand again. I could not +be sure whether his flush and quick breathing were from +surprise or the stooping posture in which he had been.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Did you speak, Whitney?" he asked, after running +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page148" id="page148"></a>[pg 148]</span> +his eyes over the room and assuring himself that no +one had entered. I held his eyes with my own till I was +sure my voice was steadied. When I spoke, it was deliberately +and evenly. "So Rona came back," I said.</p> + +<p class="indent">The train of lightning mental processes by which I had +arrived at that astonishing conclusion had not much of +an edge on Allen's quick comprehension of what had +started that train going. For only the briefest instant +his eyes were blank with surprise. Then, with a look +of complete understanding, he clapped a hand to the side +of his neck and began smoothing straight the limp collar +of his soft silk shirt. The ghost of what would have been +a sheepish grin flickered up and died away, and to his +face came something of that half-embarrassed, half-eager +look that had sat upon it when he entered the +room, as he said: "Yes, Rona has come back. That was +one of the things I came to see you about. She—we—the +both of us have a bit of a favour to ask of you."</p> + +<p class="indent">Quite the master of myself now (and of the situation, +too, I thought), I came back banteringly with: "If it's +that red, white and blue neck of yours you want tied +up, I have one of B. and W.'s little First Aid cases in +my bag...."</p> + +<p class="indent">It was the shockingly torn and bruised neck that had +been revealed when Allen's collar had slipped back as he +stooped to recover the rolling cartridge that set my swift +train of thought going. This must have been something +of the order of it, but electrically rapid of action: Lacerated +neck—old Chinaman at Ponape whose neck was +scratched when Rona ran away from him—Rona a specialist +in neck-scratching—probably scratched Allen's +neck (Question—Was it done in the course of one of the +attacks she was known to have made upon him on the +<i>Cora</i>?)—Could not have been done on the <i>Cora</i>, as they +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page149" id="page149"></a>[pg 149]</span> +had left her over two weeks ago and these half-healed +scratches were not over five or six days old.—Hence, +Rona had scratched Allen's neck inside of the last week, +and, therefore, could not have drowned herself in Ross +Creek a fortnight ago. Conclusion—Rona has come +back.</p> + +<p class="indent">It had taken not over a second or two for my quickened +mind to run that devious course, and Allen's must +have covered a good part of it in even less time. The +wits of the both of us were keenly on edge. There could +not but have been a fine display of sparks had he been +in his wonted aggressive mood. But he had not come +for fighting, physical or mental, it seemed. He had come +to ask a favour—"for the both of us."</p> + +<p class="indent">"<i>For the both of us!</i>" The significance lurking in +those words had eluded me for a moment in the sudden +adjustment my mind was called upon to make in coming +to a realization of the fact that Rona—the lissome lovely +Rona—was not dead—that the bright flame of her was +unquenched after all. But: "<i>a favour for the both of +us!</i>" A sudden chill checked and throttled the thrill +that had started to flood my being. "<i>A favour for both +of us!</i>" "So—Bell dead—'Slant' Allen takes the girl +in the end!" I said to myself. Then, the echo of Kai's +estimate of Allen's track strategy: "An easy starter +but a hell of a finisher, 'Slant'. Don't worry about +what he's doing when the starting flag drops; watch +him head into the stretch." "... <i>head into the +stretch</i>," I repeated to myself. "Then what about the +finish? Is he already under the wire?"</p> + +<p class="indent">These thoughts, like the train preceding them, must +have flashed through my mind very quickly, for it was +Allen's voice replying to my badinage about First Aid +for his lacerated neck that brought me out of them.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page150" id="page150"></a>[pg 150]</span> +"The neck's doing very well, thank you," he was saying, +"considering that its windpipe was closed for all of +sixty seconds, and that most of the hide was clawed off +from it all the way round."</p> + +<p class="indent">That was really very interesting intelligence, but my +mind, deep in another channel, was quite incapable of +compassing the significance of it for the moment.</p> + +<p class="indent">"So you've landed the girl after all," I said woodenly, +cursing myself inwardly for the gallery play that had +left both guns beyond my reach. For of course he had +deliberately put Bell out of the running—shouldered him +in the stretch.... Reviving suspicions brought also a +realization of what it was up to me to do, now that there +was no longer doubt....</p> + +<p class="indent">"That depends very largely upon you." Allen's quick +reply cut short further conjecture.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Depends upon me?" I interrupted incredulously. +"What do you mean by that? Oh, I see. Now that +you've put Bell out of the way, perhaps you think that +I, as his closest friend, ought to—to distribute his estate, +so to speak. If that is the way you figure it, let me tell +you that all the distributing you can count on me for +will take the form of spraying lead over your worthless +hide. You won't mind handing me one of those guns, +will you? I don't mind which."</p> + +<p class="indent">It would have been sheer madness—straight suicide,—that +outburst, had Allen been moved by the least desire +to get me out of his way. I have never been quite able +to make up my mind as to whether it was my instinctive +feeling that he had no such desire that prompted me to +take more leeway than prudence—nay, the commonest +motive of self-preservation—would have dictated; or +whether I simply lost my head—let my feelings get away +with me. It may well have been the latter, for shocks +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page151" id="page151"></a>[pg 151]</span> +had been crowding pretty thick, and it was hardly to +be expected that the gears of my self-control wouldn't +slip a cog now and then under the strain.</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen's brows drew together in a black scowl for a +brief space, and his eyes contracted and grew hard as +steel. Then, slowly, the scowl smoothed out, leaving only +a deep flush behind it. It was not replaced by his former +look of anxious embarrassment, however. Rather his +expression was one of a serious, controlled determination.</p> + +<p class="indent">"That matter of my putting Captain Bell out of the +way, as you choose to phrase it," he said sharply, "is +one of the things I called to talk with you about. Since +you've stated so plainly what you intend to do about +it—assuming it's a fact,—perhaps it would be in order +to take it up before—before the other matter. As for +these pistols.... Since they're yours, help yourself +to both of them." Stepping back from the table, well +out of reach of the guns, he added: "But I'd rather +appreciate it if you could see your way to refraining +from using them until I'm through with what I've got to +say; after that ..." (he gave his shoulders an indifferent +shrug) "it's up to you. Do what you think +best with them. I don't want them—neither one of +them."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Of course not," I sneered. "Quite naturally, you'd +prefer to use your own. Quite right, too. Get it out +of your hip-pocket while you've got a chance. That's +a new chum's way of carrying a gun, anyhow. I'm just +a bit surprised to see a practised killer like Mister +'Slant' Allen resorting to it. No chance in the world +to make an even break of it with a man with a gun in +his side-pocket. Tail of your coat's always getting mixed +up with your fingers just when you want to use them."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page152" id="page152"></a>[pg 152]</span> +Allen had braced himself after my first taunt came so +near to getting him going, and this second one—galling +as it must have been—hardly moved him. Only the +faintest flutter of a corrugation between the brows told +that another scowl had been repressed. The half-surprised +tap he gave to the bulge on his hip—a gesture +that would most certainly have drawn a shot from me +had I had a gun in hand—suggested that he really had +forgotten that there was anything there. I am positive +that I could have grabbed a revolver from the table +and beaten him to it on the draw. A move so naïve on +the part of an old gunman convinced me, even before +he had spoken a word, that I had let my feelings send +me off at half-cock.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I haven't a pistol in my hip-pocket," he said evenly. +"Never did carry one there, and wouldn't be likely to +begin it if I was going gunning for a specialist like you. +You'll have to take my word for that. Yes, and since +I'm going to ask you to take my word—my unsupported +word—for a number of other things, it may be in order +to try to make you believe that my word, when I give +it to you straight, isn't quite—that it isn't on just the +same plane with the rest of my doings."</p> + +<p class="indent">I was just a bit surprised that he didn't take out +whatever it was that created that bulge in his hip-pocket, +but hardly reckoned it worth while mentioning. I was +fully assured that, far from seeking trouble, it was the +one thing he had steadfastly resolved to avoid. That +was enough for the moment. He was also about to speak +of the one thing I was interested in above all others—the +doping of Bell. There was every reason why I +should encourage him to speak of that. The matter of +Rona would come up in due course. He evidently had +something to say about her also.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page153" id="page153"></a>[pg 153]</span> +"Sit down," I said, and extended my cigarette case.</p> + +<p class="indent">He declined my fat gold-tipped Egyptians, heavily +salted with <i>kief</i> (another accursed habit I had picked +up in Paris), and lighted a slender Sumatra cheroot +from his own case. It was not as a move of precaution +(I was through with all pretence of that now) that I set +the big lounging chair I shoved up for him so that he +would sit facing the light. I merely wanted to watch his +face. Yet even that was not necessary to satisfy me of +his sincerity, at least for the moment. His every tone +and gesture was sufficient proof of that.</p> + +<p class="indent">"In the matter of the value of my word...." Allen +was losing no time in getting to the point. "In the time +you have spent mooching about the Islands, Whitney, +you have doubtless heard me referred to by a good many +hard names, such as pirate, murderer, thief, blackguard, +jail-bird, crook, and so on without end. You've heard +all of these, haven't you?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"All, and many others," I assented readily. His +frankness rather appealed to me just then.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Quite right. Yet I dare say you didn't happen to +hear the name of liar included among the number. If +you did, it was used by some cove who had a grudge +against me, and didn't care whether he stuck to facts or +not. I don't mean that I haven't put over a lot of +crooked deals in my time, nor that I haven't come out +with a gratuitous falsehood now and then when it suited +my purpose. I don't claim to be a George Washington. +But I do mean just this: that when I have deliberately +assured a man that a thing was, or was not so, I was giving +him the dead straight of it to the best of my knowledge. +And that's the way I'm speaking when I tell you +that I haven't a revolver on me, and that that dope +I slipped into Bell's whisky at Kai had nothing to do +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page154" id="page154"></a>[pg 154]</span> +with his playing out on the voyage. As for the reason +of that ..."</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen frowned slightly and ceased speaking for a few +seconds. When he resumed it was not to take up the +thread where he had dropped it.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I don't know whether you'll have difficulty in believing +it or not, Whitney," he went on after a half-dozen +puffs at his slow-burning cheroot; "but this is the +first time since I was packed out of Australia five years +ago that I've tried to explain to anyone anything I've +said or done—tried to make out a case for myself. That +was simply because I didn't give a damn whether anyone +approved of it or not. The reason I am doing it now—well, +there are two reasons."</p> + +<p class="indent">He puffed quietly for a few moments again, as though +gathering his thoughts. Then he continued: "The first +reason is that I owe it to you for the consideration you +showed in the matter of not telling them at Kai what an +ass I'd made of myself. That was dead white, Whitney. +I've got to give it you for that. No one but a thoroughbred +could have held his tongue for five minutes about a +thing like that, especially seeing you were under no obligations +of any kind whatever to me. And, for all I can +learn, you've held your tongue for a month. How do I +know? Well, I know about Kai (the only ones I care +much about anyway) through a letter Jackson got off to +me from Samarai—after he'd delivered you over to old +'Choppy' Tancred to bring south. Got it the night +before I left Townsville. It wasn't much of a literary +effort, but he managed to say a few things that—things +that I knew he wouldn't have said if you had given them +the facts—all the facts about my departure in the <i>Cora</i>. +As for Australia.... If you had been dishing up any +inside dope in this nest of old women and busybodies, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page155" id="page155"></a>[pg 155]</span> +no fear that it wouldn't have come to me before this. +I know them. Their tongues will waft gossip from Melbourne +to Port Darwin quicker'n the telegraph. My +word, don't I know them!"</p> + +<p class="indent">Quickened puffs registered the bitterness of unpleasant +memories as Allen fell silent for a brief interval. "I'm +not fool enough to believe that you kept quiet here out +of any regard for me," he went on presently. "That +wouldn't be it, for you haven't any. I don't blame +you. As a matter of fact, I don't seriously care what +Australia thinks anyway. I'm through with them here +for good and all. But the Islands are different. The +rest of my life, such as it is, is going to be lived there, +and the only men I have ever had any great respect for +are living there now. So, whatever reason there was behind +it, Whitney, I'm deeply grateful to you for not +showing me up in Kai. It was dead white of you.—I say +it again. I've thought of it a good many times since I +got Jack's scrawl, and it was the first thing I intended +to speak to you about today. Only, my slate got a bit +upset. That little gun of yours deflected my thoughts, +and then—but you saw how I got forced off on another +tack.</p> + +<p class="indent">"The other reason" (Allen hurried on as though anxious +to avoid hearing any observations I might feel impelled +to make on what he had just said) "why I am going to +the trouble of trying to clear up your suspicions in the +matter of Bell's death is because, if I don't, there will +be no hope of your granting the request I have come to +make of you—and I can't run any chances of failure +with that.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I didn't want to kill Bell, but—well, it seems that +I was equal to playing a damn dirty trick to get him +out of the way. I won't need to tell you why. I hate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page156" id="page156"></a>[pg 156]</span> +to drag the girl into it, but it can't be helped. She must +have bewitched me, I'm afraid. Not intentionally. +Quite to the contrary, she never gave me a look. I admired +Bell—in spite of his rather standoffish way with +me—as much as any man I ever met. That was the +only reason I held myself in about the girl as long as I +did. I don't know just what would have happened if +the schooner hadn't come. Chances are, since I was +getting pretty near the limit of my self-control, I would +have blown off some other way.</p> + +<p class="indent">"The opportunity which I saw to get rid of Bell in the +schooner was too great a temptation to be resisted. So +far as getting him clean away with the <i>Cora</i> was concerned, +I have only my own hot-headedness to blame +for failing. I was simply asking for trouble when I +went prancing down to take over the girl before the +schooner even had her hook broken out; and I found +it. No more than I deserved, though."</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen paused while the old humorous grin spread over +his face for a moment. Then: "I trust you won't mind +if I don't go into details about how I came to put my +head into the noose," he said, still grinning. "It wasn't +very edifying, you know—from my standpoint, I mean.</p> + +<p class="indent">"But it would have made no difference even if Bell +had got away, while the girl and I remained behind on +the island. She wouldn't have had anything to do with +me anyway—at any rate, not while she had any reason +to hope that Bell was still alive,—and probably she +would have knifed me at the first chance for the part I +had in getting him away. She would have found the +chance, too, let me tell you. That girl creates her own +opportunities—there's no holding her once she takes +the bit in her teeth. What she wants to do, that thing +she does. And what she wants a man to do for her, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" id="page157"></a>[pg 157]</span> +that thing <i>he</i> does. She'll put through what she's after +if she has to go through hell for it—and no minding +whom she takes with her."</p> + +<p class="indent">The queer unnerved look on Allen's face drew my first +interruption. "So it's come to that?" was all I said.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Yes, it's come to that," he assented, the seriousness +of his eyes belying the whimsical smile on his lips. +"But I'll be returning to that presently.</p> + +<p class="indent">"About that dope I gave Bell," he went on—"it was +absolutely harmless. I bought the stuff in Macassar a +few months ago, more out of curiosity than anything else. +The old Sultan at Ternate had told me about it, and I +was just a bit interested in its effects. It was pretty +concentrated, though not a hundredth of the strength of +the essence from the same plant that Rona took it for—the +deadly poison, which has the same pungent smell. It +was a considerable overdose of the stuff I took one night +that put me on to the fact that, after a short spell of +rather pleasant mental stimulation, it would drug a man +to sleep for an hour or two. Hardly any after-effects +at all, except a deuce of a thirst for liquor for a few +days. I had talked about it with Doc Wyndham two +or three times, and am perfectly certain of what I tell +you.</p> + +<p class="indent">"It was the only stuff I could lay hands on that promised +to do the trick. You see, I was afraid that if Bell +wasn't drugged, he would become suspicious when I +failed to return to the schooner, and come to look for +me—perhaps even chuck up the stunt entirely. If he +hadn't been pretty drunk (much the furthest along I +ever saw him—probably on account of the beastly heat—you +remember it?) he must have sniffed the half-dozen +drops I put in his half-emptied glass of whisky while +he was conning that old chart he had on the wall. It +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page158" id="page158"></a>[pg 158]</span> +was a light dose (I've taken twice that much myself), +and though he went under jolly fast—due to his being +so far gone with whisky, probably—he was up and taking +command of the schooner inside of an hour. And +you'll remember how he was going right on ahead getting +under way to catch the tide, even though I hadn't +returned. The best nerves I ever saw in a man, bar none, +that chap had. Will of iron and eyes for nothing but the +thing he set out to do. There was a lot in common between +him and the girl on that score. No wonder they +were so strong for each other."</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen fell silent again, stroking his cheroot between +thumb and forefinger—the habit the correspondents had +characterized as a sign of modesty. "I hope you won't +insist on my telling any more about the voyage than I +have to in connection with Bell's death," he said at last. +"I hate to speak of it at all. The thing is almost as much +of a nightmare in memory as it was in fact. You saw +how things were on the schooner when we got away. +Well, just picture them getting worse and worse day by +day for—how long was it?—something over a week, I believe, +but it seemed a lifetime. The whisky I kept bracing +up with made it a lot easier for me to stand—kept +me from going crazy and jumping overboard, as so +many of the niggers did. But Bell—he didn't have +the whisky—wouldn't have it. Yes, he kept up that mad +joke of his about being a 'soba skippa' to the end. That +was what killed him—just that, and nothing else. It +was beyond a being of flesh and blood to do what he set +himself out to do—and live. He tried to (my God, how +he tried!)—and died.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I never felt such pity for any living thing, unless it +was old Recoil, my first steeplechaser, when he lived for +twenty-four hours after staving in his chest against a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" id="page159"></a>[pg 159]</span> +stone wall. I was hardly more than a kid then. I lay +in the straw of his box all that time with his battered, +bleeding frame, and swore I'd kill the first man that tried +to shoot him. Then I pulled myself together and did the +humane job myself. But I couldn't shoot Bell, and he +wouldn't shoot himself. That would have been the easy +way out (since he had steeled his will against taking another +drink), but he wouldn't follow that short-cut either. +Said he was—how did he put it?—'goin' to ride the wata +wagon all the way to po't, an' then fall off good and +plenty.' Some Yankee expression about keeping strict +teetotal, wasn't it?</p> + +<p class="indent">"It got to me worse than the crazy niggers—watching +the agony of his mind and body contorting the muscles +of his face, as he tried to hide what he was going through. +The girl was a good deal of help to him for the first day +or two, and he admitted that he was glad she had decided +to join his 'li'l' pa'ty at the last minnit.' But even she +failed to create a diversion as his cravings for whisky +became more and more intense, and he seemed to try to +avoid her as much as he could toward the last—probably +because he couldn't hide his suffering from her. I saw +that it was killing him—that he would never last out the +voyage on the course he was heading,—and tried hard +to make him see that it was only reasonable to allow himself +at least enough whisky to ease off the tension on his +breaking nerves. But he wouldn't listen to it.</p> + +<p class="indent">"'I gave it out official,' he said, 'that I was goin' to +keep soba on my next ship, if I eva got one. An' soba's +the wo'd.' To put an end to the matter, he turned his +back on me and went for'ard among the niggers.</p> + +<p class="indent">"After that I tried to explain to Rona (I had managed +to get on speaking terms with her as soon as she +became satisfied that Bell had not been poisoned) how +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page160" id="page160"></a>[pg 160]</span> +things stood, in the hope that she would fall in with a +plan I had for giving him small doses of whisky with +the coffee he had taken to drinking with increasing frequency +as the craving for liquor grew on him. She flew +into a temper at once, however. Said that, far from helping +me to give him whisky on the quiet, she would taste +every cup of coffee after it was poured for him in the +galley, and then take it to him herself. She ended by +saying that if I tried that trick she would knife me with +her own hands: in fact, rather regretted that she hadn't +done it when she had a chance at Kai. I couldn't for the +life of me see why the girl should take that attitude, +when it was so plain that whisky was the only thing that +would pull Bell through; but take it she did, and that +was the end of it, at least as far as co-operation from her +was concerned, I mean. That simply left it up to me +to watch my chances and do the best I could on my own.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Bell had insisted on standing watch-and-watch with +me from the first, usually, in his own watch, taking the +wheel himself, probably because it gave him something to +occupy his mind—and his hands. (He was beginning +to tear the skin of the palms of his hands from +clenching and unclenching his fingers.) What broke +him finally was discovering that he was no longer +fit for a trick at the wheel. His eyes went bad +rapidly under the strain, and it was not long before +he could not distinguish the readings on the compass +card. He told me about it at once, but was confident +he could manage to hold a course by the stars. +This went on all right as long as it was clear. But one +night, when it was squally and overcast, he lost the +'Cross' (which had been giving him a shifting but fairly +approximate bearing), and fell back on trying to keep +her a couple of points off the wind. This would have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" id="page161"></a>[pg 161]</span> +done all right if the Trade had held from the southeast. +But it hauled up to east in a squall, and Bell, +following it around by the 'feel' of it on his face, had +the schooner all but onto the Baluka Reef and shoal at +daybreak. I let him extricate himself to save his feelings; +but he knew that both the Bo'sun and I had +twigged what had happened, and why, and it must have +been the realization of the fact that he had become quite +useless in navigating the ship that hastened the final +collapse.</p> + +<p class="indent">"He came on the following night for his watch—the +'graveyard,' from midnight to four in the morning,—but +made no objection when I stuck on at the helm. +We were closing the tangle of the Barrier Reef by then, +you see, and it wouldn't have done to trust the wheel to +a nigger. In fact, when I went on at eight the previous +evening, it was practically the beginning of the thirty-six-hour +trick at the wheel that ended when we +anchored off Townsville.</p> + +<p class="indent">"When Bell let me stay on at the wheel at midnight, +he showed the first voluntary signs of giving in, not in +the matter of closing his lips to whisky—nothing could +affect his decision on that score,—but to the other alternative. +I mean that he gave up hope of holding on till +he had brought his ship to port—gave up hope of living +to the end of the voyage. Up to that time he had +always tried to pass the whole thing off as a sort of a +joke, running on with patter like that about the 'wata +wagon.' But he dropped all that from the moment I +refused to give way to him at the wheel.</p> + +<p class="indent">"'Youah quite right, Allen,' he said in a weary sort +of voice, and went over and sat down on the rail of the +cockpit. His voice was hollower still when he spoke +again, maybe ten minutes later. 'Allen,' he croaked, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162" id="page162"></a>[pg 162]</span> +'I've got a hunch I'm not up to pullin' my weight in +this heah schoona any longa. I'm all in—no mo'n so +much ballast. Just a dead drag.'</p> + +<p class="indent">"I didn't reply to that. I was too much awed—yes, +awed—even to urge him again to take the drink I knew +would be the saving of his mind—perhaps his life. He +didn't speak again till after I roused him to prevent the +main boom giving him a crack on the head as I put her +about. (We were working through a nasty patch of +broken coral—the outskirts of the Barrier—but scant +seaway and fluky airs.) As he settled back on the +weather rail of the cockpit he said, speaking very slow as +though hard put to control his voice: 'Allen, I make +it about two hundred miles to Townsville by youah +noon position. Say thirty-six to forty hours' sailin', +with the wind holdin' up. Do you reckon you an' +Ranga—good man, Ranga—do you reckon you an' he ah +up to pullin' it off alone? I'm—damn it all, I'm seem' +hell-west-an'-crooked just as we hit the dirty navigatin' +Allen, take my wud fo' it, this soba skippa stunt ain't +all it's cracked up to be—not by a long shot. I'd rather +ha' had the plague by a damn sight, Allen.'</p> + +<p class="indent">"He wouldn't mention the other alternative—whisky—even +then, and I simply didn't have the nerve to take +advantage of the opening and suggest it to him outright. +But I did what I thought was the best thing under +the circumstances—waited for a stretch of open sailing, +gave the wheel to a nigger, fished up a convenient bottle +of whisky, and set it down just behind him against the +cockpit rail. I didn't speak even then—just pressed his +shoulder, tilted the neck of the bottle against his hand +where it clutched the rail, and went back to the wheel.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I had the feeling (and I still have) that I was doing +the decent and humane thing, just as I did when I put old +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page163" id="page163"></a>[pg 163]</span> +Recoil out of his misery; though the cases aren't quite +parallel of course. But I knew it would force a crisis +one way or the other, and that was what, in all sincerity, +I thought was the kindest thing to do. If Bell drank +(though it well might be that he would go on drinking +until he fell in a stupor), it would surely save his life. +What if he did get dead drunk? He wouldn't be any +more useless in navigating the schooner than he was already. +On the other hand, if he still refused to drink, +the heightened temptation of the handy bottle would +increase the tension and hasten the collapse of mind and +body, which was now but a matter of a few hours at the +outside. I think you'll agree with me, Whitney, that I +did the kindest thing possible under the circumstances."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I wouldn't venture an opinion on that offhand," I +temporized; "but, in any event, it's the thing I would +undoubtedly have done myself had I been in your place. +There's no question in my mind on that point at least."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'm glad to hear you say that," he said warmly; +"especially as there was one person—a rather important +person to me—who didn't approve of my action.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Bell's only acknowledgment of what I had done," +Allen went on, "was a sort of disjointed muttering. +'Many thanks, ol' man. Nothin' doin'. Good intentions. +Soba skippa to the fareyewell!' (I think that was the +word). He shoved the bottle along out of easy reach, but +didn't even make a bluff at throwing it over the side. I +have an idea that the reason for his restraint on that +score was due to the fact that he remembered I had told +him that the supply was running low (I had been putting +an awful crimp in it), and didn't want to deprive +me of it. He was quite considerate enough to think of +that sort of a thing, even with his senses toppling, as +they must have been from the beginning of the watch.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page164" id="page164"></a>[pg 164]</span> +"It was a moonless night, and heavily overcast, so +that I could just make out the blur of Bell's head and +shoulders against the deckhouse where he sat hunched +up on the port rail of the cockpit. But there was a +crack opening up in the beastly binnacle, and through +it an inch-wide welt of light slashed diagonally across +his tortured face. One eye, the side of his nose and half +of his mouth were sharply lighted up. The rest was a +shadowy blank. The vivid gash of light, like a magnet, +kept drawing my gaze away from the compass. That one +eye, wide and staring, never blinked in the bright beam. +The nostril, distending and contracting jerkily, was +red, like that of a horse that has been galloped to the +point of death. The teeth looked to be clenched through +the lower lip, and blood was trickling over the lighted +streak of clean-shaven chin. Not all his sufferings had +made him miss his morning shave. Almost like a rite +with him, that was."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Holdover from his Naval life," I suggested hastily, +fearful less he should be tempted to digress upon irrelevant +details.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I don't know just when it was that the end came," +Allen resumed. "I was expecting every moment that +he would jump up and begin his restless pacings, as he +had done on previous nights. But at six bells his position +was still unchanged, and to blot out that beastly slash +of light across his drawn face I threw a piece of canvas +over the top and back of the binnacle, so that the beam +from the crack was cut off. Just as the morning watch +was called a nasty bit of a squall was threatening to +bore in and give us a raking, though it finally passed +astern of us and spun off down to leeward. My hands +were full for some minutes preparing against the imminent +onslaught, and it was not until the menace was past +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" id="page165"></a>[pg 165]</span> +and I had taken over the wheel from Ranga (who had +relieved me when I went for'ard to have a squint +ahead for myself), that it struck me that Bell had +been paying no attention whatever to all that had been +going on—didn't appear to have shifted at all, in +fact.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I was just going to call to him to suggest that he go +below and turn in for a spell, when the nigger on the +lookout in the bows sung out 'breaka—dead ahead!' It +was a near thing, but I managed to sheer off and avoid +grounding on a patch of barely submerged coral, just +becoming visible in the shimmer of the false dawn. As I +knew that the main wall of the Great Barrier must be +close at hand to lee, I was chary of letting her fall off +very far in that direction. I had just ordered a man +to stand-by to heave the lead at the first sign of shoaling +water on the starboard bow, when the tail of my eye +caught a glimpse of Rona stepping out on deck from the +cabin companion way. (We had sulphured out the +Agent's cabin and made it fairly comfortable for her use. +It was out of the question her sleeping on deck, on account +of the incessant squalls.) She headed straight for +Bell, who was still hunched up on the weather rail of +the cockpit, the outlines of his face just beginning to +show in the ashy light of early morning.</p> + +<p class="indent">"As her hand touched his shoulder she let out a shrill +squeal and plumped down on her knees beside him. In +doing this she must have bumped the whisky bottle, +which had been rolling back and forth on the deck with +the lurches of the schooner. It was with more of a hiss +than a scream that she grabbed it up and flung it straight +for my head. Oh, I should hardly say <i>straight</i>," Allen +corrected himself, "for Rona evidently can't throw any +better than the run of her white sisters. The bottle +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page166" id="page166"></a>[pg 166]</span> +smashed against the wheel, deluged the cockpit with +broken glass and one of my last half-dozen quarts of +whisky. If I had not been pretty sure that Bell was +already dead, the fact that the smell of the old familiar +juice welling up from the deck didn't bring a twitch to +his nostrils would have been enough to drive it home +to me.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Without waiting to observe the effects of her throw, +Rona launched herself right on after the bottle—only a +shade better aimed. Unluckily, the cross-cut she took to +my throat carried her right over the wheel—and at the +very instant that the appearance of a second line of foam +down to leeward confirmed my fears about our desperately +scant working room. The instinctive lifting of my +right arm to block the girl's grab at my face came near +to bringing disaster. I fended the clutch from my throat +all right, but the weight of her body falling across the +wheel tore the spoke from my left hand and threw the +schooner up into the wind.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Ranga's quick presence of mind was all that saved +the situation. Jumping into the cockpit regardless of +the broken glass cutting his bare feet, he grabbed the +girl about the waist, disentangled her flying arms and +legs from the wheel, and smothered her struggles against +his side. I threw the wheel back an instant before she +jibed, and then, for two or three seconds, things hung +in the balance. Finally, very slowly, she filled away on +the port tack again, and the immediate danger was over. +Had the schooner gone about, nothing could have saved +her from running onto the reef. There was not enough +room left in which to wear her round.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Bell must have given up the fight along toward the +end of the 'graveyard' watch. I heard him muttering +off and on for a while, but the last coherent words that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" id="page167"></a>[pg 167]</span> +came to my ears were, not unfitly: 'Nothin' doin'. Soba +skippa to a fareyewell.'</p> + +<p class="indent">"That rub with the reef was the nearest squeak we +had—though I can't say that I remember much about the +navigation that took us through the Barrier and on to +Townsville. Drunken man's luck doubtless. I was sure +drunk, and no mistake, though both my legs and my head +were grinding right along to the finish—only ceased +functioning when there was nothing more to do.</p> + +<p class="indent">"The girl—when Ranga let her go again—went back +and settled down by Bell's body. Wouldn't let anyone +come near it. Only left it on the two or three further +occasions that she took to fly at my throat when she +thought I wasn't looking. I didn't want to lock her up +(it was inviting the plague to force her to stay 'tween +decks for too long), but managed to get around the difficulty +finally by having one of the crew stand-by to push +in and absorb the impact whenever she made a break in +my direction. She gave up trying after that. Seemed +to loathe the touch of a nigger. But with Ranga it was +different. She grew quiet as soon as he picked her up—something +like a kid with its nurse.</p> + +<p class="indent">"The big fellow was wonderful, by the way. Always +doing the right thing without waiting for an order, always +cool and quiet, always good-natured. Spent his +spare time sitting on the taffrail and peeping to the sea-gulls +on a queer little Malay flute he always carried in +his belt—some kind of hollow stem, full of little wooden +balls that gave a weird sort of ripple to the notes. First +and last, Ranga was the man to whom the bulk of the +credit was due for taking the schooner through. I still +feel a bit guilty that I didn't divide the whisky with +him. But perhaps it was best to stow it where I +did.... You never know how a yellow man or a black +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" id="page168"></a>[pg 168]</span> +man will react to the stuff. It's hard enough guessing +with a white man sometimes."</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen smiled whimsically as he lighted a fresh cheroot. +He was through with the worst of the story and seemed +a good deal relieved. It was plain enough that he spoke +the truth when he said that the memory of it was still +a nightmare, and that he hated to have to speak of it. +He said a few words more in explanation of why he had +not buried Bell at sea, which appeared to have been +mainly because he was afraid the girl would have followed +the body over the side. He had no misgivings +about keeping it aboard, he said, as he was quite certain +that it carried no plague infection. He mentioned incidentally, +that they had found a lot of stick brimstone +among the stores, and that the thorough smudging they +gave the after quarters with this was probably responsible +for the fact that the plague had not reappeared +there. It had been impossible to devise a way to disinfect +the big 'midships hold where the labour recruits +were housed, on account of the more or less crazy condition +of all of the niggers.</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen looked at his watch, but went on with his story +as though in no particular hurry. "You're doubtless +impatient to hear about the girl's turning up again," he +said. "You've already heard of the rather remarkable +escape she made from the Quarantine Station—Butler, +one of the doctors, mentioned that he told you about it on +your steamer. At the Station it was the theory that the +girl had broken out so that she could kill herself on +Bell's grave—that she was more or less off her head anyhow. +That was a mistake, though a natural one. She +had just one thing in view when she clambered out of the +mad cell and over the wall: that was to lie low until I +came out and then, watching her chance, try to make a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" id="page169"></a>[pg 169]</span> +better job of polishing me off than she had done on the +schooner. She realized that they were on their guard +against her at the Station, and that she might be kept +under restraint indefinitely, or at least until I was out +and gone beyond her reach.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Her mind was working well enough to make her +reckon that that Chinese shawl (which everyone would +have noted) was the one garment she had that could not +fail to be recognized. So—it must have been something +of a wrench for her—she left it on the bank of Ross Creek +and went to seek a hiding place.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Luck was with her in the search. Locating the native +quarter after wandering for a while, she circulated +around until she came upon the signs—in Hindustani, I +fancy—in front of the shack of an old East Indian drug +seller and money changer. How she got around him I +don't know; but at any rate she persuaded him to keep +her there until I was out of quarantine. She even contrived +to get the old rascal to spy out the refuge I had +flown to—a bungalow just out of town, where I figured +I would be a bit quieter than at the hotel. Then she +took a hand in the game herself.</p> + +<p class="indent">"It was on the second night after I came out, and I +had turned in early. I had taken no precautions of any +kind against attack. Never have bothered much with +that kind of thing. The doors and windows were wide +open. I had a servant—a Chino,—but he was sleeping +in his own hut in the rear of the grounds.</p> + +<p class="indent">"It was the window she came in by, though she could +just as well have used the door. I was more than half +awake (hadn't been sleeping very well any of the time +since my two-day snooze after landing from the +schooner), lying on my back under the mosquito net, +with no covers over me. It was probably her intention +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" id="page170"></a>[pg 170]</span> +to slip up quietly and get her hands under the net before +disturbing me. She had no knife, by the way. +They had taken that little Malay dagger away after she +had tried to stick me at the Quarantine Station. As she +would have had no difficulty in raising another through +old Ratu Lal had she wanted it, I take it that she felt +confident enough of doing the job with her hands. No +idle dream that, either; you know something of the +strength of them.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I sat up in bed in a dazed sort of way as her shadow +darkened the window. (There was a bit of a moon, +shining on that side of the house.) It must have been +my movement under the netting that made her change +her plan. Very naturally, she counted on my shooting +first and asking questions afterwards. It was the rational +and proper thing to do, and it is probably what +I would have done had my pistol been handy. But, not +dreaming of an attack (this was the day before old +'Squid' Saunders turned up and took a jab at me), my +gun was in my coat pocket. I have always carried it +there—when I had a coat on—ever since I saw your +little exhibition of pocket gunnery at Kai," he added +with a humorous smile.</p> + +<p class="indent">"As I was saying, the stir I made under the mosquito +net forced the girl to speed up her schedule a bit. You +saw the jump she made the time she caught up the +schooner at Kai. Well, it must have been about that +same kind of a spring over again. She never touched +the floor between the low window ledge and my bed. +Landed right on my chest, bringing down the net under +her weight, and went to my throat with an instinct as +sure as that of a fighting bulldog. She was choking me +right through the net before I really knew what had +happened.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" id="page171"></a>[pg 171]</span> +"Of course, taking it for granted that she was dead, I +didn't have the ghost of an idea it was Rona who was +sprawling on my chest and shutting off my wind with +steel fingers that seemed closing in to meet at the base +of my brain. I didn't even know that it was a woman. +In fact, the deadly pressure of that grip argued all the +other way—that I was being throttled by a man, and a +deucedly powerful one at that. If I did any speculating +at all, I probably figured it as some kind of a thieving +stunt. But a man fighting for his life—and that is +precisely what I was doing—doesn't waste much time in +conjecture. My immediate problem was a simple one. +If that grip wasn't broken inside of a minute, it might +stay there forever as far as my shaking it off was concerned. +I had been choked before, and also done a bit +of choking on my own account; so I knew to within a +few seconds how long it is before the head of a man +whose wind is shut off begins to reel.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Still quite the master of myself, I tried on, very deliberately, +the best thing I knew for breaking a strangle +grip—that simple little <i>jujutsu</i> trick of thrusting your +arms between those of the man choking you, and then +throwing back your shoulders and expanding your chest. +Stiffening the chest muscles, I mean—of course you +can't expand it with air while your windpipe is closed. +That never fails if you are both on your feet, and will +sometimes work even when you are on your back. Here +the tangle of the net blocked the up-thrust of my arms, +and I failed to get enough leverage to break the hold on +my neck.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Then I tried my next best bet—that of turning over +and over and sort of unwinding the grip on your throat. +I was a shade less confident now. Time was getting +short. I did some jolly active wriggling in trying to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" id="page172"></a>[pg 172]</span> +work along far enough to roll over the side of the bed, +but again it was the net that defeated my effort. I +was getting a good deal peeved with that bally canopy; +and yet, in the end, it was the very thing that got me +clear.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Nine times out of ten a man being held down and +choked by another man—that is, if the choker knows +his job—has no chance of doubling up in a ball and +kicking his assailant off by straightening out his legs. +If the man choking you flattens his body closely enough +against yours, you simply haven't the room to start +doubling your knees. My assailant knew his business +right enough, but the folds of the net (some of the corners +of which were still clinging to its frame), prevented +his flattening in close to my legs. The sag of the woven +bamboo bed springs also gave me a few inches of leeway.</p> + +<p class="indent">"There was nothing deliberate or confident in the jerk +with which I began drawing my knees up against my +chest. I had already failed twice with what I rated as +decidedly better bets than that one, and the time limit +was nearly up. My head was already beginning to +swim. It was neck or nothing this heat. The sheer +desperation of my effort won out for it. The push of my +knees against the chest of the incubus did not lift it +quite enough to break its hold, but it did enable me to +squirm my right foot up and get it firmly planted in +the pit of the creature's stomach. Then, with all the +strength left in me, I straightened out in a terrific kicking +push.</p> + +<p class="indent">"In reverse, the flight of the muscular body that had +been holding me down must have been fully equal to that +opening jump from the window. Indeed, I am almost +sure that it hit the further wall before it did the floor. +The hold on my neck was the only point of contact that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" id="page173"></a>[pg 173]</span> +did not break readily, and there the result was—as you +saw a moment ago. As those steel-claw fingers would +not give an inch, they simply ripped out through the +flesh. I can consider myself dead lucky that they didn't +hook onto my windpipe or jugular. Both of them would +have come right along with all the flesh and hide those +unrelaxing talons took with them.</p> + +<p class="indent">"It didn't occur to me for a few moments that I might +have knocked out my assailant, and I was a good deal +surprised when he neither returned to the attack nor +made any break to escape. The laboured gasping in the +darkness on the other side of the room quickly told me +the reason, however. I had knocked the wind out of him +with my mighty kick. I knew that spasmodic gasping +for air meant that I wasn't going to be greatly troubled +for a minute or two at least, so took my time about +fumbling for my automatic and lighting the lamp.</p> + +<p class="indent">"A bit dazzled by the light for a moment, I took +the lanky yellow figure huddled up against the wall to be +a Hindu coolie. The thin legs and arms were like those +of the East Indian indentured labourers of the sugar +plantations, and the two or three yards of white cloth +trailing off along the floor suggested a Madrassi waist +and shoulder rag. Presently—for that one rumpled +wrapping was all she had worn—I saw that it was a +woman; and then—but as a matter of fact I think that +the girl spoke before I recognized her face.</p> + +<p class="indent">"'"Slant,"' she piped out in that bird-like chirrup +of hers; '"Slant," I guess I make a meestake. 'Scuse +me, ple-ese, "Slant."'</p> + +<p class="indent">"Could you beat that for cheek? Trying to tear a +man's throat out one minute, and asking him to 'ple-ese +'scuse' her for it the next. And what do you think of +a man who would tumble for it, especially after the way +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" id="page174"></a>[pg 174]</span> +she had made me jump through and roll over at Kai? +But that's Rona; yes, and that's me. I tumbled, and—I +may as well admit it—I am still tumbling.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Having the girl turn up like that—after I had been +thinking of her as dead for a week or two—didn't give +me quite the shock it would have if that voice had come +out of the darkness without my seeing her first. It was a +deuce of a surprise even as it was; but, when all is said +and done, a pleasant one, in spite of the rather startling +way she chose to—to re-materialize. I was glad to find +that she was alive, whether it meant anything more to +me than that or not.</p> + +<p class="indent">"We didn't talk much that night—there wasn't much +talk left in either of us as a matter of fact. Rona continued +to croak and hiccup, while my own swollen vocal +chords smothered every other word I tried to get past +them. I managed to assure Rona that I quite understood +her feelings against me (though I didn't entirely, +and don't yet), and begged her to give me a chance to +explain the way Bell had come to his finish. She admitted +that she had begun to believe that she might have +been hasty in her decision and action, and said she would +be glad to hear what I had to say. She told me where she +was in hiding and asked me to come there in the morning; +also to do what I could to square her with the +quarantine authorities for breaking out of the Station +ahead of time, and on no account to let anything happen +to old Ratu Lal for giving her refuge. She seemed to +take it as a matter of course that I would do these things. +You'd have thought I was some sort of a <i>mayordomo</i> +taking orders.</p> + +<p class="indent">"It was not very late and, luckily, the bungalow +(which Ralston had occupied himself at times) had a +telephone. I ordered a closed carriage sent out, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" id="page175"></a>[pg 175]</span> +also got the Quarantine Station and arranged for one +of the doctors—Butler, the chap you talked with on the +steamer—to come to the landing and wait for me to +pick him up. They had been very decent to me at the +Station, and I wanted to avoid having to explain things +to a strange doctor.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Rona tied my neck up for me—very handily, too—and +when the carriage came I bundled her in and gave +the driver the direction which carried him along the +edge of the 'foreign quarter.' I dropped her at a corner +not far from Ratu Lal's joint, promising to look in on +her early the next morning. Butler was waiting for me +at the landing when I got there, and I told him about +Rona's coming to life, and its sequel, as we drove back +to the bungalow. After he had dressed my neck I told +him what I wanted him to try to do for me and sent him +back to the landing, where his boat had hung on for him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Rona was looking a bit white about the gills when +I called the next morning, and complained that her +stomach 'got mad' every time she sent food down to it. +I told her that she still had the best of me, as I didn't +expect to be able to get any food down to my stomach +for a couple of days yet. That seemed rather to buck her +up, and she had a good laugh over it. Then we got down +to business, and had an hour's yarn in the drug-scented +quiet of old Ratu Lal's back room.</p> + +<p class="indent">"As my Malay is fairly good, we talked without difficulty. +I told her more or less what I have just told you +about Bell and why I had given him the whisky. She +said, rather grudgingly, that she thought she could +understand why I had done as I did. Then I said a +few things about—well, about my personal feelings +toward her. Finally, I asked her point-blank if she +would go back to the Islands with me. Told her she +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" id="page176"></a>[pg 176]</span> +could live anywhere she wanted, and in any way that +she wanted. I didn't say that I was willing to marry +her, because (since, if she has any religion at all, it's +Hindu or Mohammedan) I felt that would make no difference +to her one way or the other.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Am I really willing to marry her?" (It was the lift +of my eyebrows that suggested the query to Allen, for I +did not speak.) "Well, yes, I think I am, if she made +that a condition. But I don't think the question is one +likely to arise.</p> + +<p class="indent">"The girl took in the whole thing without giving away +by word or look how it impressed her. When I had +finished, she coolly suggested that I run along and square +matters up with the quarantine people about her and +Ratu Lal. She added that she would be obliged if I'd +look up her Chinese shawl for her. She also started to +speak about her dagger, but changed her mind and said +to let that go for the present. As for what I'd been telling +her.... Well, perhaps if I could see my way to +dropping in again toward evening she might have an +answer for me. High and haughty as a Sultana, she was, +sitting cross-legged on a mat and pulling away at one +of Ratu Lal's big 'hubble-bubbles.'</p> + +<p class="indent">"I went to the Quarantine Station straightaway, and, +in spite of the red tape tangling up a thing of that kind, +managed to get them to agree to discharging the girl +without anything more than a perfunctory call from a +doctor to certify her free of plague. That done, the rest +was easy. I told the story—omitting, of course, the +girl's attack upon me—at the Police Station, and they +agreed not to arrest Ratu Lal as long as the quarantine +authorities were satisfied and lodged no complaint +against him. They said they were only too glad of a +chance to do me a favour. Then I got them to let me +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" id="page177"></a>[pg 177]</span> +have the shawl, and begged them to keep the news of the +girl's turning up quiet as long as they could.</p> + +<p class="indent">"'Squid' Saunders's little diversion that afternoon +gave the pressmen something else to take up their minds, +and the matter of the missing girl was forgotten, at +least for the remainder of my time in Townsville. The +fact that she did not drown herself must have leaked +out since, but they probably haven't been enough interested +in it—now that the hunt has followed me here—to +wire it south.</p> + +<p class="indent">"When I broke away from the official reception committee +and dropped in on Rona at the end of the afternoon—impatient +enough, I can tell you—she gave no +sign that the matter I had come for an answer about was +in her mind at all. She grabbed the Chinese shawl out +of my hand with a yelp of delight, but almost dissolved +in tears when she saw how the embroidery had been +smudged and ruffled in her scrambles over trees and +walls and ditches the night she escaped from the Quarantine +Station. You may remember that it was a big peacock +that was embroidered on the shawl—pretty nearly +life-size—rather a fine piece of work, it always struck me. +Well, ignoring me entirely, she spread that old peacock +out over her breast—something in the way she used to +display it when she wore the shawl in Kai—and began +chirping and crooning and muttering to it like a dove +to its nestlings. She would nuzzle into the plumage, +smoothing the ruffled feathers with her lips, just like she +was the old peacock preening himself. Every little bit of +torn floss she would try to put back where it came from.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Stiff with funk, I sat quiet until she had gone all +over the moulting old bird, but when she started in working +down from his crest again, I thought it was time to +remind her of my presence. I had never sat around +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" id="page178"></a>[pg 178]</span> +waiting on anybody like that before, Whitney; even my +old nurse couldn't make me do it. So I cut in and told +her that I had arranged things at the Quarantine Station—that +she wouldn't need to go there again; also that +old Ratu Lal need not worry any longer about a visit +from the Police. Incidentally, I mentioned that I was +making him a present of ten pounds to show my appreciation +of his consideration in not claiming the reward +offered for her.</p> + +<p class="indent">"She took no notice of anything I said. Just went on +crooning and preening and stroking down the ruffled +feathers, giving a little sob every now and then as she +came to a place where they were badly mussed up. Then +I went off on another tack, saying that I knew of a shop +in the town that carried Chinese embroideries, and suggesting +it was possible a skilled needle-worker might +be found there competent to undertake the restoration +of the bird's damaged plumage. She deigned to cock up +an ear to listen to that, but her only reply was a disconsolate +shake of the head, as though anything like +proper restoration was a matter beyond all hope.</p> + +<p class="indent">"That quieted me for a while, but after twirling my +thumbs through ten or fifteen minutes more nuzzling +and crooning, my patience gave out. I jumped up to +the accompaniment of a good lively string of oaths, and +asked her point-blank if she had made up her mind about +the matter we had been speaking of in the morning. She +broke into a ripple of smiles at that, and cooed sweetly: +'Ye-es, I think 'bout that plenty, "Slant."' Then she +slipped into voluble Malay and laid down a perfectly +simple and direct proposal, on the fulfilment of the conditions +of which she was willing to return to the Islands +with me. It was not what I had expected,—not what +anyone would have dreamed of expecting under the circumstances; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" id="page179"></a>[pg 179]</span> +yet ridiculously easy of fulfilment in the +event a certain third party fell in with the idea. That +third party is you, Whitney. That's the main thing I +have come to see you about. Everything is up to you +now. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to understand +why I rattled on for an hour or more in the hope +of putting myself right with you about Bell. I've never +tried to justify myself with any living man before, and +probably will never do it again. But it had to be done +this time, Whitney, and I hope I've been successful."</p> + +<p class="indent">My nod might have meant almost anything, but I was +not unwilling that Allen should interpret it in his favour. +As a matter of fact, he had convinced me wholly that—after +the abortive attempt at drugging in Kai—he had +played straight with Bell. As for Rona—well, if he +was also ready to play straight with her (and he had +just about convinced me on that point, too), what was +it to me? If she could forget Bell so easily, it was her +own affair. If Allen were trying to carry her off against +her will—that would be a different matter of course. +But he was not. Plainly it was the girl herself who held +the whip hand. The whole thing was a bit obscure yet, +but what Allen had still to say might do something to +clear it up. Without committing myself by more than +that one nod, I waited for him to go on.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" id="page180"></a>[pg 180]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XII<br /> +<small>A BAD MAN'S PLEA</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">The</span> expression of nervous anxiety I had noticed +several times since he came was on Allen's face +again as he started to speak. "It's a queer +enough proposition," he began. "You see, it's +like ..." He hesitated, stopped, got up and walked +to the window, where he stood for a few moments, +frowning and biting the end of his cheroot. Suddenly +he turned to me with: "Whitney, what do you say to a +bit of a turn in the fresh air? I've been talking more +than I'm used to, and this stuffy room of yours is getting +on my nerves. We might walk out through the +gardens to the Domain. I can tell you all that I have +to tell out there."</p> + +<p class="indent">I did not need to look at my watch to know that it was +getting on toward five o'clock. Only the absorbing interest +of Allen's narrative had prevented my becoming +conscious of that fact before. My own nerves were less +under control now, and the inevitable end-of-the-afternoon +restlessness was surging strong upon me. But I +was anxious to hear Allen out, and no reason occurred +to me why it should not be in the open air. If there +was any decision to be arrived at, that could be made +on the morrow, or whenever I felt up to it.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Right-o, Allen," I cried; "I'll be glad to get out +myself. I shall want to be back in about half an hour +though."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>[pg 181]</span> +I was grateful for his restraint in not greeting +that last with an indulgent smile, for I knew that +he fully understood what it was that focussed my +interest upon five o'clock. It was very evident that the +man had retained all the finer instincts of a gentleman, +little opportunity that he had had to exercise them in +the last five years.</p> + +<p class="indent">I got my hat and stick, and, feeling sure I would have +no use for them, put both the revolver and the automatic +pistol into the drawer of the table upon which +they had been lying. I was rather glad of the chance to +show Allen that I had confidence in him to that extent +anyhow.</p> + +<p class="indent">Anxious to avoid recognition, Allen pulled on a pair +of dark spectacles and drew the brim of his Panama low +down over his forehead. Turning out of crowded Pitt +Street, he removed the spectacles, and as we passed the +entrance of the Botanical Gardens took off his hat and +fanned his brow with it as he walked. He had not spoken +so far, but with the deep breath he inhaled as he felt +the springy turf underfoot his restraint passed from +him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"It's a great relief to get clear of those damn walls +and pavements," he said fervently, opening his coat to +let the cool breath from the Bay strike his chest. "I +can't get used to them again. I've been free of them +too long now. But I'm finished with them for good, +I hope." Then, as we came out upon a broad path: +"Bear away to the left, if you don't mind. I want to +take a squint at that bunch of palms as we pass."</p> + +<p class="indent">As we came abreast of a big bed packed with a riot of +dense tropical growths, he pulled up and appeared to be +searching for something. "Ah, there she is!" he ejaculated +presently, and pushed in close to a queer little +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>[pg 182]</span> +dwarf palm, which straggled drunkenly on a half-dozen +spindling legs set something like those of a camera +tripod. Pulling up the stamped metal marker, he gave it +a quick glance and then handed it to me with a grin. +"The fruits of my first and only dip into botanical +research," he remarked. "What do you think +of it?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"<i>Pandanus Bensoni Allensis</i>," I read in large letters, +and below: "Habitat: Portuguese Timor. Very rare. +The only other catalogued specimen is in the Royal +Dutch Gardens at Buitenzorg, Java."</p> + +<p class="indent">"So that <i>Allensis</i> stands for you, does it?" I said, not +a little impressed, as I handed him back the metal disc. +Then added: "And racing and polo cups weren't the +only objects you collected."</p> + +<p class="indent">"The merest accident," he replied. "I had always +liked plants and flowers, ever since my nurse used to +wheel me down this very walk in my pram. I suppose +that gave me an interest in the tropical growths of the +Islands, after they packed me off there. I thought this +little fellow looked a bit on the unusual when I chanced +upon it one morning in a low valley back of Deli; so I +dug it up and shipped it to Sydney direct on the China +Line steamer, which touches in there. It turned out to be +a real find. Benson of Kew Gardens, the great authority +on tropical palms, described it, and tacked my name on +as the discoverer. The old cove's letter contained the +only kind words addressed to me from the outside world +in the last five years. And now look at them ..."</p> + +<p class="indent">I had come to expect that note of bitterness in Allen's +voice every time he spoke of the past, and especially +of his "transportation" to the Islands. He evidently +thought that he had been badly treated; too badly for +even the present wave of frantic adulation to make atonement. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>[pg 183]</span> +He was through with it for good. Several little +things he had let drop indicated that.</p> + +<p class="indent">The incident of the palm was interesting in throwing +an illuminative crosslight on the gentler human side of +a man who had generally been rated as without either +gentleness or humanity. So, also, was the very evident +appeal to Allen's sense of natural beauty made by the +matchless panorama of the Bay as it unfolded to us from +the far end of the point.</p> + +<p class="indent">We had skirted the Naval anchorage of Farm Cove, +picked our way along the path below the ledges where +benighted "sundowners" were wont to boil their +"billys" and spread their "blueys" in the shallow wave-worn +caves, and climbed up through the gums to the +rocky lookout on the outermost tip of the sharply-jutting +point. The clocks in the town behind us began +chiming the quarters heralding the hour of five, and +presently, on the first of the heavier strokes, the flotilla of +trans-bay ferry-boats slid from their slips at the inner +curve of the horseshoe of the Circular Quay and +"fanned" out on their divergent courses to points on +the opposite side of Port Jackson.</p> + +<p class="indent">"That sight has never failed to quicken my pulses +from the time I used to wait and watch for it as a kid +down to today," Allen said with almost a thrill in his +voice. "It is the one picture that has remained clearest +in my mind all these years I've been—shut out from it. +Did you ever read Henry Lawson's lines to 'Sydney-Side,' +written from somewhere in the West, I believe? +Something like this they go:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Oh, there never dawned a morning in the long and lonely days,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">But I thought I saw the ferries streaming out across the bays—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And as fresh and fair in fancy did the picture rise again</span><br /> +<span class="i2">As the sunrise flushed the city from Woollahra to Balmain:</span><br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184"></a>[pg 184]</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'And the sunny water frothing round the liners black and red,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">And the coastal schooners working by the loom of Bradley's Head;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the whistles and the sirens that re-echo far and wide</span><br /> +<span class="i2">All the light and life and beauty that belong to Sydney-Side.'"</span><br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="indent">"A sentimentalist, too," I muttered to myself, the +surprise of that revelation checking for a few moments +the rising tide of my absinthe-hunger.</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen led the way back to where a flat ledge of rock +made a rough natural seat. "'Lady Macquarie's +Chair,'" he explained, motioning me to sit down. +"Named from the wife of a former Governor who was +supposed to slip away out here and enjoy the view. The +Domain runs right back behind the Government House, +you know. I always used to mooch along out here for a +look-see every time I got a chance, partly for the fine +prospect of the Bay and partly for the comprehensive +visualization it permitted of what I might call 'The Rise +and Fall of the House of Allen.'</p> + +<p class="indent">"Haven't you an expression in the States to the effect +that it's 'three generations from shirt-sleeves to shirt-sleeves'? +Well, here in Australia we put the same +natural law of evolution in the form of a conundrum +and answer. It goes: 'How long does it take +for an arrow to become a boomerang?' The answer +varies, but for the 'House of Allen' it is: 'Four generations.'</p> + +<p class="indent">"The arrow, you understand, is the 'Broad Arrow' +that marked the transported convicts, while the boomerang +merely suggests something that rises, circles and +returns to the point of departure. Well, from this place +where we sit I can trace the full circle of the 'arrow-cum +boomerang-cum arrow' of the Allen quiver. Look! I'll +show you. Follow me closely.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>[pg 185]</span> +"Over there," he said, pointing seaward and easterly, +"are the Heads, in through which sailed the brig bearing +Jim (alias 'Crab') Allen, convict, with a few hundred +more of the scum of London, to the shores of +Australia. That is, I've always liked to fancy my distinguished +progenitor sailed in through the Heads, +though it's quite possible that the brig beat around +into Botany Bay direct. Now" (he pointed westerly to +where the Paramatta wound out of sight between green +hills) "at the end of that deep cove over there is the +slaughter house where the convict's son, James Allen, +dealt in hides and hoofs and horns and laid the foundation +of the family fortune, the fortune that wasn't seriously +dented when the convict's grandson gave a +hundred thousand pounds to a drought-relief fund and +drew down a Baronetcy. That big red-brick pile among +the trees on Darling Point" (Allen was pointing east +again) "is the mansion of the late Sir James Allen, +Bart., and now owned by his eldest son, the New South +Wales Agent in London. Old Sir James' second son, +Hartley, was born in the south wing of that unsightly +heap of red bricks.</p> + +<p class="indent">"And here" (this time he turned and pointed south +where a sharp dagger-blade of inlet plunged deep into +the heart of Sydney's lowest slums) "is Wooloomooloo, +where young Hartley Allen, descending from the soft +refinements of Darling Point, found his level, organized +his own 'push' of rock-throwing, head-smashing +larrikins and completed the social circle. The cycle of +metamorphosis had begun its round. I was the throwback, +Whitney. Old 'Crab' Allen, the transported convict +of Houndsditch, lived again in young Hartley Allen, +whom most people thought of as a racing man and polo +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>[pg 186]</span> +player, but who had all the natural qualifications of an +out-and-out crook.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I can trace all of my little moral obliquities, Whitney, +back to old 'Crab,' and, everything considered, I +think he would rate me as rather a credit to his name, +whatever contempt he might have had for my comparatively +law-abiding father and grandfather, to say nothing +of my pillar-of-the-state elder brother. 'Crab' was +transported as a consequence of his persistent disregard +of his fellow townsmen's rights to their lives, wives and +silver plate. I—well, I never did care much for silver +plate."</p> + +<p class="indent">All this would have been intensely interesting to me an +hour earlier, but now the fervour of my longing for my +"<i>solitude à trois</i>" (as I was wont to call my séance with +the long green bottle and the glass of cracked ice) was +getting beyond control. The flowing lines of the reaches +of cove and inlet glowing in the slanting light of the declining +sun were becoming jerky and jagged and intershot +with dazzling little spurts of light like one thinks +he sees after receiving a crack on the head. The evening +breeze lapped clammily about my chest and I fumbled +clumsily with the buttons of my coat, trying to shut out +the chill.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I ought to have been back at the hotel before this," +I mumbled, getting to my feet. "You had something +more to tell me, hadn't you? You can do it as we walk +back. I've got to be going now."</p> + +<p class="indent">By this time I wasn't in a state to observe things very +carefully. Undoubtedly (as I've thought it over since) +Allen had been stalling to gain time and screw his nerve +up to advancing the plan he had in mind. This being +so, it must have jarred him a bit to have me call the turn +so suddenly. I don't remember whether his face showed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>[pg 187]</span> +consternation or not. The one thing I recall was the +quick movement of his hand to that hump on his right +hip.</p> + +<p class="indent">I did not recoil an inch. I am sure of that, for I felt +no apprehension. I was beyond apprehension—save over +delay. But Allen's hand came back empty. "I'll tell +you at once," he said brokenly. "But please sit down. +Don't go just yet. We'll have to come to a decision +straightaway." Then, seeing I was turning to go: "It's +just this: Rona wants you to paint her picture—on the +schooner—the <i>Cora</i>. Wants a picture done of the whole +layout—ship, Bell, her, me, Ranga, niggers, everything. +Says she'll pose for it on the schooner. Says I must +pose too. Seems to be bitten with the idea of perpetuating +the event for posterity, or something of the kind. +Crazy scheme, but she's set her heart on it. Says when +it's done, if she likes it, she may go back to the Islands +with me. Nothing certain for me, but it's a chance and +I've got to make the most of it. Will you do it, Whitney? +She says you've always wanted to paint her picture, +and now she's all for it. You won't turn it down, +Whitney?"</p> + +<p class="indent">The incongruity of "Slant" Allen in the rôle of a plaintive +pleader struck me with scarcely less astonishment +than his strange and unexpected request. I was, however, +totally unfit to cogitate upon either just then.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I'll think it over and let you know tomorrow," I said +dully. "Got to go now."</p> + +<p class="indent">"It has to be decided here and now, once and for all," +Allen answered firmly. "Here!—" This time there was +no hesitation in the movement of his hand to the hip-pocket +hump. When it came back it was holding a fat +stubby flask—one of the thermos type, just coming into +general use at that time.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>[pg 188]</span> +"I know what's calling you away, Whitney," he said +steadily, unscrewing the top of the flask and pouring +into it a bright green liquid with a familiar smell and +sparkle. "On the off chance that we might be detained +beyond the hour when you're used to depending upon it, +I had this cooled at the Marble Bar—old hangout of +mine—and brought it along with me. Don't use the +stuff myself, but I know the hooks it throws into a man +who does use it. Drink hearty!"</p> + +<p class="indent">He handed me both the brimming screw-top and the +flask itself. The contents of the former might have been +drugged heavily enough to kill a horse for all I cared. +It was absinthe beyond a doubt, and cold enough to frost +the outside of the little nickled cup that held it. I gulped +it down hungrily; replenished and repeated. The third +cup I drank less greedily, letting my eyes rove slowly +where the jerkily jagged zigzags of hill and headland +and foreshore were smoothing into a softer fluency of +contour. Sipping the fourth cup, I unbuttoned my coat +to give more intimacy to the caress of the milk-warm +evening breeze.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Not bad stuff, Allen," I breathed at last. "Very +good of you to think of it. What was it you wanted me +to do just now?" Five minutes later I had promised to +meet "Slant" Allen at the railway station in time to +catch the nine-thirty train for Brisbane, en route Townsville.</p> + +<p class="indent">It appeared that Rona's ultimatum had stipulated that +Allen was to be back in Townsville with me, ready to +begin arranging for the picture, inside of ten days. The +only northbound boat, the <i>Waga Tiri</i>, which would arrive +within the limit, had already left Sydney but could +be overtaken at Brisbane by entraining at once. Allen +had booked sleepers for the express and wired for cabins +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>[pg 189]</span> +on the steamer before he called on me at the <i>Australia</i>. +There was nothing left to do but throw together what +things I wanted and get to the station.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was rather a wrench, checking myself after getting +all poised for flight with the "Green Lady," but not so +hard as it would have been had I really "got off the +ground." The contents of Allen's flask were hardly +more than a strong bracer. Once I got back to the +hotel and into my packing, it was easy going, especially +as my enthusiasm was mounting for the work ahead. +To have Rona for a model at last! And for such a +picture!</p> + +<p class="indent">The dramatic appeal of the thing grew on me with +every passing minute. It was not, to be sure, quite the +kind of a work I was best prepared to do. With my ambition +to become a marine painter, I had gone in more for +colour than for anatomy and drawing; but I was still +confident that I could make good with anything that +gripped my imagination strongly. And "The Saving +of the Black-birder" (I had already given it a tentative +name) fairly took me by the throat. I would not fail +with it. Nay, more, I would triumph. Perhaps—why +not?—Paris! Yes, "The Black-birder" should open a +short-cut to my goal. The rails beneath the wheels of the +speeding Brisbane Express were clicking <i>black-bir-der</i>—<i>black-bir-der</i> +when I dropped off to sleep that night somewhere +along toward the Queensland boundary.</p> + +<p class="indent">That the morrow should bring some reaction from this +fine frenzy was inevitable, but it was a comparatively +slight one. That Allen had deliberately planned to draw +me away and take advantage of my weakness for absinthe +to gain my intervention in his favour was evident enough. +Indeed, the consummate manner in which he turned the +trick argued an almost pathological intimacy with the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>[pg 190]</span> +reaction of the insidiously subtle essence of wormwood +upon the human brain. But I did not hold this heavily +against him. It was plain that he had only done it to +play safe in a matter respecting which he did not dare +to take any unnecessary chances of failure. I could not +but admit to myself that I would probably have fallen +in with the plan ultimately in any event. There was +no disloyalty to my friend in making him (as I intended +to do) the central figure in a picture that I hoped would +become famous in two hemispheres. On the contrary, +what greater tribute was there I could pay to his memory? +If Rona cared to flaunt that memory by going off +to the Islands with Allen, it was her own kettle of fish. +Besides, she had not gone yet; didn't even appear to have +committed herself definitely in the matter.</p> + +<p class="indent">To minimize explanations and the possibility of complications, +Allen and I had agreed to defer wiring our +Sydney friends of our departure until after we were +aboard the <i>Waga Tiri</i> in Moreton Bay. His message to +the Chairman of the Reception Committee, and mine to +Benchley at my Exposition, went ashore on the tender +that brought us off, and the steamer was under way before +they could have been put upon the wires. It was +not until the next northbound boat brought the Sydney +papers to Townsville that we learned what a wave of +surprise and speculation had been started by our joint +hegira.</p> + +<p class="indent">In the course of the voyage Allen told me some few +further details of developments in Townsville. Before his +departure he had managed to induce Rona, for her own +comfort, to move her headquarters from Ratu Lal's joint +to the Medical Mission of the London Bible Society. The +head surgeon of the Mission he characterized as "a good +old sport" he had knocked up against in the Straits and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>[pg 191]</span> +the Dutch Indies. He was just like an ordinary missionary +to look at, but redeemed in "Slant's" eyes by a +real love of horses, and even—very much on the quiet—a +shrewd interest in racing. "It's in his blood. He +can't help it," Allen explained laconically but comprehensively.</p> + +<p class="indent">Explicit instructions had been left at the Mission +that Rona was not to be worried about her spiritual future. +She was to be just a "straight boarder" until +Allen's return. She was well provided with money, as +he had seen to having everything Bell had with him at +the time of his death deposited to her account at a local +bank. This had included eighty gold sovereigns, found +in a money-belt around Bell's waist, and some hundreds +of Chilean silver <i>pesos</i> he had brought off to the <i>Cora</i> in +a canvas sack.</p> + +<p class="indent">Ranga had been put up at the Sailors' Home. There +had been a flat refusal to receive him at first, on account +of his colour, but this was promptly withdrawn when it +was found the request came from Allen, whom the town +was going pretty strong on delighting to honour just +at that juncture. Allen, who seemed very fond of the +big fellow, also saw that the latter was comfortably provided +with money.</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen did not speak again of the proposed picture until +the steamer was nosing up to her buoy in Cleveland Bay. +Then, after inquiring if I had everything I needed to go +ahead with, he intimated that he would probably find +Rona fretting to get things under way. "She seemed to +have some wild sort of an idea," he said, "that the whole +thing would be done on the schooner—that we all might +move out there, bag and baggage, and make it our head-quarters +until the picture was completed. She even +wanted me to go out to that plague-rotten wreck with her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>[pg 192]</span> +and look the ground over before I left. I had no time +for it, of course, and am jolly glad I didn't. Can't +see what the good of it would have been anyhow. I +was hoping I had seen the last of the damned hulk, +though I suppose I can stick it for an hour or two in a +pinch. I fail to see what she's driving at, but whatever +it is you may as well make up your mind that she will +have her way about it."</p> + +<p class="indent">I assured him that the picture would probably be +mostly studio work as far as he was concerned, though I +myself might want to sketch a few details on the +schooner. It might save time, however, I suggested, if +the whole lot of us went aboard before I began work so +I could figure out a tentative grouping and get a general +idea of the composition. Then I could make notes and +sketches of whatever parts of the schooner would be +included, and be ready to work on the individual figures +as soon as I rigged up a studio.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" id="page193"></a>[pg 193]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIII<br /> +<small>THE SCENE OF THE FINAL DRAMA</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">We</span> spent the night at the hotel and went together +to call on Rona at the Mission the +following morning. The change in the girl +was startling, far too great to be accounted for by the +baggy Mother Hubbard that had replaced the close-clinging +<i>sarongs</i> and <i>sulus</i> in which I had grown accustomed +to seeing her at Kai. Her face was thinner and +the former peach-like bloom of her cheeks had given +way to a dusky sallowness. The curve of her lips had +flattened—and hardened; hard, too, was the fixed stare +of her great sloe eyes. To a stranger the pucker of +concentration between her eyebrows might almost have +suggested sullenness. The lines about her eyes and mouth, +which spoke to me of suffering, might have seemed to +another as stamped there by hate. She was still beautiful, +but in a new way. It was a wild, fluttered sort +of loveliness that haunted rather than allured. The +woman before me could never "sit Buddha," I told +myself; those dreamy spells of repose had not punctuated +her present life with intervals of Oriental peacefulness.</p> + +<p class="indent">Decidedly reserved in her manner toward Allen, Rona +tried to be warm in her greeting to me, but quickly +showed signs of restraint and embarrassment. She became +even more ill at ease when "Slant," after genial +old Dr. Oakes invited him out to see a new saddle horse +that had just arrived from Singapore, excused himself +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" id="page194"></a>[pg 194]</span> +and left us alone. She sheered off so sharply from my +first mention of the name of Bell, and became so palpably +nervous at a couple of attempts I made to lead round to +him by degrees, that I gave up trying to induce her to +speak of him out of sheer pity. Even my inquiry after +the health of "Peeky" of the embroidered shawl drew +only a weary little smile and a sad shake of her riotous +tumble of blue-black hair.</p> + +<p class="indent">She was ready enough to talk about the picture, though +even in that connection I was at once conscious of a lack +of real enthusiasm on her part. She seemed anxious to +get it started, however, and said she supposed we would +be going to live on the schooner in a day or two. She +even confessed to having worried a good deal for fear the +<i>Cora</i> would be broken up by a storm before the picture +was made. When I told her that we would not need to +live on the schooner, and perhaps would not have to make +more than one or two short visits to it, she appeared a +good deal put out for a few moments. She scowled +angrily and started to speak; then thought better of it, +bit her lip and held her tongue. She appeared a bit +mollified when I said we would make our first visit, to +plan the picture, just as soon as the quarantine people +would disinfect the schooner for us. (That this had not +been done yet I had already learned through 'phoning to +the Station the night before.) She observed impatiently +that she thought disinfection was a needless precaution, +and I had to explain that it was not a matter of precaution +at all on our part; that it was against the law for +anyone to board a ship that had carried plague until it +was disinfected, and that if we tried it on the <i>Cora</i> the +whole lot of us would probably be clapped in jail and +quarantined afterwards.</p> + +<p class="indent">She softened a little as I got up to go, and her "Next +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" id="page195"></a>[pg 195]</span> +time I show you 'Peekie,' Whit-nee—'Peekie' is a +ver-ee sick bird," sounded almost like old times. The +hand she gave me was hot and dry but unshaking, and +the almost cutting grip of it tense with nervous force. +I noticed that her finger nails, though trimmed closer +than of old and no longer stained, were still of unusual +length.</p> + +<p class="indent">I found Allen, his face flushed with enthusiasm, putting +the doctor's new colt up and down the sward before +the Mission chapel in sharp bursts of terrific speed. +The animal, Oakes explained to me, had been given to +him by a petty Rajah of the Federated Malay States +as a token of his appreciation of the doctor's success +in removing a troublesome appendix from a favourite +dancing girl some months previously. It was a chunky +bay gelding, only his small head, full neck and a certain +trimness of hock bearing out Oakes' claim that he +was out of a Mameluke imported direct from Bassorah +by the Sultan of Johore. For the rest he favoured his +Timor dam, and looked built for endurance and handiness +rather than speed. The instant Allen was on his +back, however, his sure instinct told him that the powerful +little beast had swiftness as well as staying powers, +and he was already itching to put his judgment to the +test. A week later, having quietly entered him in the +race of the day—the Planters' Handicap—at the Townsville +midsummer meet, he rode the gelding himself and +gave the local betting public the worst jolt in North +Queensland track annals by winning at two-hundred-to-one. +Every pound that the wily Allen cleaned up on +the race went to build the good Doctor Oakes, shortly +transferred to Fiji, the largest and best equipped Medical +Mission in all of Polynesia. The full story of what +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page196" id="page196"></a>[pg 196]</span> +the winning of that race meant to the game old missionary +with the sporting blood has yet to be written.</p> + +<p class="indent">My plan of visiting the <i>Cora</i> to make a preliminary +study of the "Black-birder" met with an unexpected +check. The quarantine people had readily consented to +give the schooner a rough disinfection, one that would +make it quite safe for us to board her as long as we kept +clear of the holds, which would require more drastic +treatment. Before the formaldehyde squad got away, +however, several cases of smallpox were reported in +the native quarter, and all the available disinfecting +apparatus was called upon for use there. It would be at +least a week or ten days, we were told, before an outfit +would be free for the <i>Cora</i>.</p> + +<p class="indent">Personally, I didn't mind the delay in the least; for +one reason, because Rona's strange mood had quenched +my initial surge of ardour for the picture, and, for +another, because I had still to find a suitable place in +which to work. Allen seemed to be worrying very little +over the forced wait. "I've laid my bets to win or lose, +and I'll be there to cash in after the finish," he said +philosophically. He spent most of the time in the saddle, +getting out mornings at daybreak to give the "Missionary +Colt" (as he called the Oakes gelding) workouts +on the quiet. As far as I could observe, he saw very +little of Rona.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was the girl who really chafed under the inaction +of waiting. Two or three times she sent for me to urge +that we disregard the quarantine regulations and go off +to the schooner. Allen mentioned that she had also +begged him to take her out for a look-see at the <i>Cora</i> on +the quiet. How she spent her time I did not know. +Oakes told me that she went out for long walks every +day, sometimes going toward the hills and sometimes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" id="page197"></a>[pg 197]</span> +along the shore. I found freshly picked tiger-lilies on +Bell's grave the day I visited it, and it occurred to me +that the gathering of these might have furnished the +motive for the solitary walks. But if she was still +devoted to Bell's memory, why wouldn't she speak of +him?—and why the plan to go off to the Islands with +Allen? The girl's conduct was quite beyond my understanding. +That was one thing I was sure of, at least.</p> + +<p class="indent">Meanwhile I went ahead looking for a place I could +turn into a studio. It had been Allen's idea that the +suburban bungalow he occupied after coming out of +quarantine would be suitable, but I was compelled to +veto it on account of the poor light—a consequence of +the dense tropical growth surrounding it. The same difficulty—light—ruled +out a number of other attractive +places that were offered me, and I was about to close +with a rather squalid little shack near the beach as a +last resort, when Allen got wind of a temporarily vacant +house on a big sugar estate, some miles from town.</p> + +<p class="indent">This little gem of a hillside bungalow had been built +by the sugar people for a sub-overseer of the plantation, +who had gone to Melbourne to meet and marry a girl +from home. As the lucky chap had been given a three-months +holiday for a honeymoon in New Zealand, the +local manager of the sugar company decided that there +could be no objection to my occupying the nest in the +interim; in fact, he was sure his directors would be +highly honoured to have their property used by so distinguished +an artist, and for so laudable a purpose. +He hoped I would not hesitate to call upon him for help +at any time. He would see to it that the servants already +hired against the return of Borton and his bride reported +at once, and that Borton's trap and saddle horses were +placed at my immediate disposal.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page198" id="page198"></a>[pg 198]</span> +I was greatly pleased with my find for a number of +reasons besides the fact that it had a large and well-lighted +living-room that could be made all I could ask +to work in. Not the least of these was its location. Several +hundred feet above the sea, its wide verandas caught +cool currents of the Trade wind that the sultry lower +levels never knew. Infinitely refreshing, too—both in +fact and in suggestion,—I found the splendid stream +which circled close under the rear wall, forming, where +a mossy ledge reared a natural dam, a deep, clear pool to +which I could jump from my bedroom window. The revitalizing +effect of an early morning plunge, I had found +by long experience, was beyond comparison the best +antidote against the insidious absinthe poisoning paralyzing +body and brain at the end of the night.</p> + +<p class="indent">A couple of hundred yards further down the stream +took a swift run through a verdant tunnel of fern fronds +and overhanging palm leaves, before it leaped in a fine +compact spout of green and white over the verge of a +creeper-clad cliff, to a lucent hyacinth-lined basin thirty +feet below. From there, quieter of mood and mind +after its hillside gambols, it meandered by pleasant +reaches across a broad belt of shimmering sugar cane, +beyond which it disappeared in tangled growth of +primeval bush. By dark ways and devious, broadening +and deepening in the lower levels, it finally lost itself +in the mangrove swamp that fringed the sea fifteen miles +to the northward.</p> + +<p class="indent">I mention this stream particularly because of the +part it was destined to play in the final act of the drama +of the <i>Cora Andrews</i>. For a similar reason it may be +in order to say a few words about the great flume, which +took off from the stream at the pool below the waterfall +and led down to the big central sugar mill on the shore +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page199" id="page199"></a>[pg 199]</span> +of the first deeply indented bay north of Townsville. +It was built, following the successful Hawaiian practice, +for the purpose of floating the cut cane from the fields +to the mill, a method which, wherever the natural conditions +were suited to it, had proved both cheaper and +more expeditious than the old system of transporting the +succulent stalks by tramway and bullock carts.</p> + +<p class="indent">The flume itself was built of imported Oregon pine +planks, and was carried on a trestle of rough-hewn blue-gum +and <i>jarra</i> trunks. In section, the box of the flume +was about four feet wide by three feet deep. The water +it carried—about a quarter of the normal flow of the +stream that fed it—varied in depth according to its +velocity. The latter, of course, depended upon the grade +of the flume, this varying from two or three per cent. in +the broad upper valley to all of fifteen per cent. in a +couple of short steep pitches near the coast.</p> + +<p class="indent">I was interested in this flume from the first time I saw +it. In the course of a visit to Hawaii some years previously, +I had found no end of sport in what was called +"sugar-fluming"—riding from the mountainside plantations +down to the mills seated on a water-propelled +bundle of sugar-cane. On my inquiring of the local manager +if the highly diverting stunt was practicable here, +he had answered with a most emphatic negative. "You +could go down the flume all right," he said, "but the +volume of water is so great that you could not stop yourself +by holding to the sides even where the grades are the +slightest. On the sharp inclines, where the flume runs +down to the mill, a team of bullocks couldn't hold you +back. Only one man ever tried the feat deliberately, +and we were picking fragments of him out of the <i>bagasse</i> +for a month. Also spoiled a lot of sugar—everything +from the juice in the vats to the unfinished article in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page200" id="page200"></a>[pg 200]</span> +centrifugals had to be thrown away. Same thing has +had to be done on the several occasions coolies have fallen +into the flume while at work. Jolly costly accidents +for the company. I hope that you're not contemplating...."</p> + +<p class="indent">I hastened to assure him that, after what he had told +me, I most certainly had ceased any contemplations I +might have allowed myself to indulge in up to then. +Still I couldn't help picturing in my mind what sport +could be got out of the thing if only some sort of buffer +were rigged up at the lower end. That prompted me, a +day or two after I was settled in the bungalow and while +time was still hanging on my hands, to put my horse +down the bridle-path along the flume when I went out +for a ride in the cool of the afternoon. After that I +lost all interest in "sugar-fluming" as a sport. It was +just conceivable that a man of great strength and agility +might stop himself by gripping the sides of the flume at +several points in the first five or six miles, but from +where the sharp descent to the coast began I was inclined +to agree with the manager's statement, that the drag of +a man's body in the pull of the racing stream would +take a team of bullocks off their feet.</p> + +<p class="indent">I dismounted and leaned over the edge of the flume +where it ran through a narrow cut in the rock at the +brow of the great basaltic cliff that followed the curve +of the beach of the bay. This was the upper end of the +first of the two sharp drops and the water, which was +running within a foot of the top of the flume a hundred +yards above, and here flattened down to a scant six inches +in the bottom, grey-green and solid like a great endless +belt of flying steel. The butt of my riding-whip was all +but jerked from my hand as I touched it lightly to the +speeding water, and a curving fan of spray was projected +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page201" id="page201"></a>[pg 201]</span> +up into my face and over the sides. The evidence +of such a solidity of kick in running water seemed almost +beyond belief, until I recalled having heard how a jet +escaping from the pressure pipe of a hydro-electric +plant somewhere in the American West had penetrated a +man's body, cleanly, like an arrow.</p> + +<p class="indent">My desire to ride the flume died then and there, +though even yet I couldn't help regretting that there +wasn't a level stretch above the jump-off, where a man +could check his headway and crawl out. It would have +been rattling good sport down to there, but beyond—sheer +suicide. There was, it is true, a couple of hundred +yards of perhaps five per cent. grade between the +first steep pitch over the edge of the cliff, and a second +one, even steeper, that seemed to run almost directly +upon the roaring, churning mass of cane-crushing machinery +that began at the upper end of the big mill. +Even there the water was lightning-swift, however, +so that a man, once over the edge of the first pitch, looked +to be less than a thousand-to-one shot in bringing up +before going on into the second. And that would have +been—how was it the manager put it?—more "spoiled +sugar"—another "jolly costly accident for the company."</p> + +<p class="indent">The bridle-path I had been following continued on +along the flume to the mill, but, desiring to strike the +main highway to Townsville as quickly as possible, I +put my sure-footed little Timor mare down what appeared +to be an abandoned road graded into the face of +the cliff. When I finally came out in the rear of what +was plainly the remains of an ancient water-driven cane-crushing +mill, I realized that the old grade by which I +had descended must have been the bullock-cart road +from the plantation. The mill was a picturesque old +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page202" id="page202"></a>[pg 202]</span> +ruin, with its mossy water-wheel, crumbling roof and +sprawling pier, and I made mental note of the lovely +little cove as a place well worth returning to with paintbox +and easel when opportunity offered.</p> + +<p class="indent">Returning through the town, I had the good luck to be +hailed from the sidewalk by my bluff old friend, Captain +"Choppy" Tancred. He was southbound with the <i>Utupua</i> +again, he said, but she was going to go to drydock +immediately on arrival in Sydney and he was going to +command the <i>Mambare</i>—a new steamer just turned out +on the Clyde for the company—and start north the following +day. It was hard luck missing his week at home +with the wife and nippers at Manley, but his promotion +to a ship on the Singapore run was some consolation. +He would be back in Townsville again in a little over a +week, and, as he had a lot of sugar to load for the Straits, +hoped to have the time for a good yarn with me. It +must have been more from habit than anything else (for +the old boy should have read enough about me in the +papers by this time to be convinced that I was not a +fugitive from justice), that he repeated his injunction +that I must not fail to let him know if there was ever +anything he could do for me—"ye'll ken wha' I mean, +lad." And, equally from habit, I assured him that I +"kenned wha'," and would not fail to call upon him in +my extremity.</p> + +<p class="indent">As I had nothing but what I had brought with me on +the steamer to move, and as the house was practically +ready for occupancy, I was comfortably settled in my +hillside bungalow at the end of the third day after our +arrival from the south. A Chinese cook and house-boy, +a Hindu groom, a couple of New Hebridean blacks as +roustabouts, and Ranga as general factotum, gave me +a very tidy and self-contained establishment. Ranga +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page203" id="page203"></a>[pg 203]</span> +I had taken to at once. He was quick-minded and quick-handed, +extremely good-natured, and ready to do anything +at any time of the day or night. I resolved to +keep him with me indefinitely as a personal servant—that +is, if it fell in with his own inclinations after he +had given me a fair trial.</p> + +<p class="indent">I made a number of rather successful studies of Ranga +by way of getting my hand in again, and that suggested +that it might be profitable to put in the days of waiting +by trying what could be done along the same lines +with the others who were to figure in the picture. Allen, +although busy with his secret training of the Oakes colt +(all unknown even to the good missionary, by the way, who +thought that "Slant" was merely borrowing the gelding +for his morning ride), found time to come up and give +me several sittings. It was easy to see that he hated the +whole thing, and was only going through with it as a part +of the bargain with Rona. The latter, after promising +me faithfully to come, was reported missing on all of the +three occasions I sent the trap for her. As her whim +was at the bottom of the whole mad plan, I was not a +little mystified at the girl's action. Also, as it was she +whom I was most anxious to do full justice to in the +picture, I was a good deal annoyed. Allen had no explanation +or excuse to offer for her, saying the girl had +him pocketed at every turn anyhow, but volunteered +to try and round her up for me himself as soon as the +Planters' Handicap was out of the way, and he had a +bit more time on his hands. For all of his light way of +speaking, I knew that he was as hard hit as ever, and had +thrown himself into the training of the "Missionary +Colt" only to give him something else to think about.</p> + +<p class="indent">Two unostentatious acts of kindness on the part of +Allen in the course of the week which followed added +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page204" id="page204"></a>[pg 204]</span> +fresh refulgency to his halo of popularity. Townsville +had gone madder than ever about him following his sudden +and unexpected return from the south, and the +same appeared to be true of the rest of the country. In +all sincerity, he had tried to do both of the things I +have referred to strictly on the quiet, and that they +became public was only a consequence of the zeal of the +fresh army of "war correspondents" that had been +rushed north again to camp upon the hero's trail.</p> + +<p class="indent">One of Allen's little kindnesses was an appeal, in his +own name, to the Governor of Western Australia to have +dismissed the proceedings that had been instituted to +bring "Squid" Saunders back to be locked up for the +twenty-three and a half years which still remained to be +served of his original twenty-five-year sentence. This +appeal was accompanied by a promise to send the ex-convict, +immediately he was released, back to the Islands +at Allen's expense.</p> + +<p class="indent">Doubtless the momentary magic of Allen's name had +something to do with the Westralian Governor's complaisance. +In any event, "Squid" Saunders was out of +jail and off as a first-class passenger on one of the +Solomon Island boats inside of a week. Allen, the correspondents +were not long in learning, had bought the +ticket, footed all of the very sizable telegraph bills, +and given the purser of the steamer a hundred pounds +in gold to be handed to "Squid" when he was disembarked +at Bougainville. The correspondents, long +baulked of any real "Allen stuff," went to that story +like hungry hounds.</p> + +<p class="indent">But scarcely was the "Squid" Saunders story onto the +wires before it was followed by the news of Allen's astonishing +win of the Planters' Handicap with the rank +outsider, Yusuf, at two-hundred-to-one. That win was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" id="page205"></a>[pg 205]</span> +spectacular enough in itself, but when, on the heels of it, +was flashed the word that not only the thousand-guinea +purse hung up for the race, but approximately twenty-five +hundred pounds paid to Allen by the "tote" as well, +had been donated to the owner of Yusuf to forward the +realization of his long-cherished dream—the erection of +a modern medical mission in Fiji—the climax was +capped. Australia echoed anew with acclaim of the +"philanthropist hero" (it was now), and press and pulpit +moralized and maundered afresh on the Hon. +Hartley Allen's goodness of heart and greatness of soul. +The clamour of the people of the country to see their +idol in the flesh fused the Townsville wires from every +direction. It was all very well that the incomparable +heroism of the saving of the <i>Cora Andrews</i> should be +perpetuated upon canvas, but why should the pushful +American artist drag the hero off before his own people +had a chance to do him homage? Let the artist rise to the +occasion with a display of that famous "Yankee hustle" +they had heard so much about and get the job over +"right quick." It was the man himself they wanted; +let the picture wait if it couldn't be finished straightaway!</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" id="page206"></a>[pg 206]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIV<br /> +<small>HELL'S HATCHES OFF</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">That</span> may give some hint of the state of mind of +Australians when, waiting on the tip-toe of expectancy +for word of the next dashing act of their +hero, they received a message of quite another tenor. +It was the Sydney <i>Herald</i> man who sent the message +that swept the country like the blast of a hurricane. He +wired just the bare facts and no more. His imagination, +even his reasoning faculties, as he confessed in a +later dispatch, were numbed for the moment, temporarily +paralyzed by the staggering shock of the horror he had +looked upon.</p> + +<p class="indent">"The Hon. Hartley Allen was found at an early +hour this morning" (ran the telegram) "bound, gagged +and lashed to the wheel of the schooner <i>Cora Andrews</i>, +which has been aground for some time at a lonely spot +on the beach of Cleveland Bay, several miles north of +Townsville. Allen, who was taken to the General Hospital +as soon as he was brought back to town, is a raving +maniac and not expected to live out the day. From +information in the hands of the police, there is no doubt +that the worse-than-assassin was the ex-convict, 'Squid' +Saunders, recently released from jail and deported to the +Solomons through Allen's generous efforts on his behalf. +He is known to have escaped from his northbound +steamer at Cairns, stolen a fishing sloop, and is believed +to have headed back to Townsville to carry out the dastardly +act his disordered brain has evidently nursed for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" id="page207"></a>[pg 207]</span> +years. As the police seem likely to yield to the popular +pressure to employ bloodhounds in running down the +fugitive, his capture is probably the matter of but a few +hours."</p> + +<p class="indent">It was a fairly sane, reasonable-reading dispatch, that. +None but a man who had felt his blood turn to ice-water +at the sight the <i>Herald</i> man had looked upon that morning +could appreciate how much credit he deserved for +stating the facts so coherently. For myself, at the moment +the launch brought us back from the <i>Cora</i> and put +us ashore at the landing, I would have been incapable +of writing my own name correctly. There was only one +thing I could do—nay, would have had to try to do if +the world had been disintegrating beneath my feet—and +I did it. That is why so much of the next thirty-six +hours is a blank in my mind.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="indent">It was on a Saturday that Allen had made his spectacular +killing in winning the Planters' Handicap, and +on Sunday afternoon, to escape the importunities of +Townsville generally and the correspondents in particular, +he had ridden up to pay me a visit at my hillside +bungalow. I had missed the race (through another appointment +for a sitting with Rona, which, like the others, +she had failed to keep), and so took the occasion to get +some account of it at first-hand from Allen. He was in +high spirits over his success, but rather inclined to be +put out with the impulsive Oakes for breaking down in +church that morning and proclaiming to all and sundry +the real source of the thirty-five hundred and odd pounds +that had fallen at his feet like manna from the skies. +What had come nearest to flooring Melanesia's leading +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" id="page208"></a>[pg 208]</span> +bad man, I think, was that the missionary had publicly +announced his intention of naming the new medical mission +at Suva after the donor!</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen also, somewhat to my surprise, was not averse +to speaking of the "Squid" Saunders episode. "The +only redeeming thing about the old ruffian," he observed, +"is his affection for that girl of his—the red-haired one, +I mean—the black-and-tans don't signify. Rather a +remarkable girl, that one, Whitney. She was one of the +kind that must either soar to the high places or wallow +in the low ones, and I've been sorrier than I can tell that +I was slated to—well, not to start her winging for the +heights exactly. I really wasn't a lot to blame in +the matter, but—that isn't either here or there. Old +'Squid' <i>thinks</i> I was, and will go on thinking so till +his dying day—or mine. I tried to get the old reprobate +to call it quits when I shipped him off the other day. +Do you think he would? No fear. Not the 'Squid.' Indeed, +considering the bother I had wangling him out of +serving that Kalgoorlie sentence of his, he was rather +nasty. He asked me if I was trying to buy him off for +fear he'd get me in the end. There wasn't much I could +say to that under the circumstances, so I just let him go. +Now the purser of the <i>Nawarika</i> wires me from Cooktown +to say that the 'Squid' slipped ashore at Cairns +and failed to show up again before sailing time. Purser +says he still has the hundred quid I gave him to slip +Saunders when they put him off in the Solomons. I +have turned the wire over to the police, but have asked +them to sit tight unless Saunders shows up in this section +again. I hate to drag the old fire-eater into a new +mess, especially after all the trouble I had getting him +out of the old one. So I hope he won't be fool enough +to come mooching south again. Don't suppose he will, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" id="page209"></a>[pg 209]</span> +but—I'll be keeping an eye lifting just the same against +the loom of a vitriol bomb on the weather skyline."</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen tapped his coat significantly at those last words, +and that reminded him that there were two or three little +things about "pocket-gunnery" he wanted me to coach +him up on. Nailing a foot-square of discarded canvas +to the swelling bole of a bottle tree down by the stream, +we put in a half-hour of "by-and-large" practice at it. +Allen, thanks to his natural gift for judging distance +and angle, proved a very apt pupil.</p> + +<p class="indent">By way of return for his gunnery lesson, "Slant" +volunteered to show me a few tricks of knife-throwing, +in which he was reputed to have no equal in the Islands. +"I'm about as much of a walking arsenal as you were +the time you waited for me at the <i>Australia</i>, Whitney," +he said with a grin, as he produced a broad-bladed dagger +from a sheath slung unobtrusively on his right hip. +"This knife, by the way," he went on, tilting it lightly +across his forefinger, "is balanced especially for throwing. +They are made in Lisbon, mostly for export to +Brazil I understand, where they seem to go in for that +kind of stunt a good bit. I bought it from the skipper +of a Portuguese gunboat at Deli, who also taught me the +principles of chucking it. First and last, I've had a lot +of sport out of practising with it, and have an idea I +would have an even break with the <i>Capitano</i> himself +when my hand's in. I was very grateful to old 'Squid' +for handing it back to me the other day. I only hope +he won't be forcing me to pass it on to him again."</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen's skill with the wicked-bladed <i>facon</i> was decidedly +impressive. If anything, he was a shade more +accurate in planting the point of it than I was with a +bullet from my pocket. Little luck as I had in throwing +it, I was quite as fascinated with the appearance and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" id="page210"></a>[pg 210]</span> +"feel" of the formidable weapon as Allen had been with +my target revolver in Sydney. "I trust you won't have +to part with it again, to Saunders or anyone else," I +said as I handed it back to him.</p> + +<p class="indent">Before he mounted for his ride back to town, I mentioned +to Allen that Rona had left me in the lurch again +the day before, and intimated that, unless she began to +show more interest in the picture, I would have to consider +packing up and going back to Sydney. As a matter +of fact, the girl's perversity had already been responsible +for effectually dampening down my first flush of enthusiasm, +and I began seriously to doubt my ability to make +a success of the picture when the way was clear to work +at it. Allen begged me not to be discouraged, and assured +me again that he would look up Rona himself on +the morrow and see if he couldn't get some line on what +she was sulking about. He also said he would see if the +quarantine people couldn't be prodded along to get at +the job of disinfecting the <i>Cora</i>.</p> + +<p class="indent">Rona still failed to show up on the following day, and +in the evening I was unable to get 'phone connection +with Allen's bungalow in an endeavour to learn if he had +seen her. Dr. Butler, whom I got on the wire at the +Quarantine Station, said that Allen had rung them up +that morning, urging them to get a move on with the +<i>Cora</i>. They had told him that they were planning to +send a squad off before the end of the week. As word +had just come to them, however, that men were seen +climbing over the schooner that afternoon, they had decided +to clean up the job in the morning. As long as the +ship remained in her present condition, he said, she +would continue a possible spreader of disease. She +should have been attended to before. If I cared to go +off with them, he added, he would pick me up at the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" id="page211"></a>[pg 211]</span> +landing at eight o'clock. I thanked him and told him +I would be glad of the chance to look things over before +going to work.</p> + +<p class="indent">I drove down early in the morning, taking Ranga with +me on the chance that Allen and Rona might care to go +off and plan a tentative grouping. A black boy cutting +weeds with a sickle in front of Allen's bungalow told +me that "white marster stop townside" for the night +and had not yet returned. At the Mission I found Oakes +a good deal perturbed. The day before, he said, Allen +had called just after lunch, talked with Rona a few +minutes, and then borrowed Yusuf and gone off for a +ride. He had not returned at dusk, but during the +night the horse, dangling a broken bridle rein, had come +galloping back to his stable. The missionary was fearful +the rider had been thrown and stunned, and had +been lying all night on the road. He had sent out boys +to search soon after daylight. He was not sanguine of +an early report from them, as Allen on his rides always +avoided the metalled main highways to save his horse's +feet. No, Yusuf's knees showed no signs of his having +stumbled. He was as sure-footed as a goat and as gentle +as a kitten. Not in the least given to shying or bolting. +Besides, the colt wasn't foaled that could unseat Hartley +Allen. Of course, he must have struck his head against +a low-hanging limb in galloping some bush path, but that +was unlikely. Hartley had his wits too much on the alert +to be caught like that. He was beginning to be just a bit +suspicious of foul play. Had I heard that "Squid" +Saunders had left his steamer at Cairns and was believed +to have sailed south in a stolen fishing-boat? He was +just about to call up the Police Station and tell them of +Allen's disappearance when I came.</p> + +<p class="indent">Rona had been off on one of her long walks the previous +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page212" id="page212"></a>[pg 212]</span> +afternoon, Oakes said in answer to my inquiry, and +was not yet up. He had spoken with her through her +window, just after Yusuf came back, in the hope that +she might be able to give him some hint of the road +Allen had taken. The latter had not mentioned where +he was going, she said. She herself had been "away +inland"—Oakes had encountered her on his weekly +round through the plantation villages. She was a tireless +walker, and very restless—altogether a strange character. +I did not disturb the girl, as I reckoned there +was no use in taking her off to the schooner until Allen +was along to talk our plans over.</p> + +<p class="indent">It would have seemed that this word of Allen's disappearance, +taken in conjunction with the fact that men +had been seen on the wreck of the <i>Cora</i> the previous +day, might have given me just a shade of preparation +for what I saw as I followed Butler and the <i>Herald</i> man +over the schooner's side an hour later. But it was not so, +probably because my mental faculties were at their dullest +at so (for me) unwontedly early an hour. If the +news had come to me in the afternoon, possibly I would +have traced some connection between the two events, +and so have been at least slightly braced and stiffened +for the coming shock. As it was, I bumped into it all +unset, and the staggering impact of it came near to bowling +me over.</p> + +<p class="indent">It had been Dr. Butler's theory, propounded as the +launch put away from the landing, that the figures descried +on the <i>Cora</i> the afternoon before were those of +blacks or coolies, attracted to the hulk by the hope of +loot. As a matter of fact, he said, they would doubtless +have made quite a haul, as nothing but the ship's papers +had been taken ashore on the day of her arrival. Considerable +"trade" and all of the personal effects of her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" id="page213"></a>[pg 213]</span> +former officers had been left for removal after disinfection.</p> + +<p class="indent">As we came out into the bay the coast to the northward +began to open up, and presently the wreck of the <i>Cora</i>, +heeled sharply to port with the foremast over the bows, +became visible against the deep green of the mangroves +a couple of miles distant. Butler studied the hulk closely +through his glasses as we closed it.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Looks as though I had another guess coming," he +remarked finally, lowering the binoculars with a puzzled +air. "Someone aboard her now. Seems to be jiggering +the wheel. Can't be a pirate stunt, can it? Wouldn't +be possible to drop a petrol engine into her, block up the +hole and get off to the Islands on the quiet? But of +course not. That's a drydock job—'count of the propeller +and shaft."</p> + +<p class="indent">At a quarter of a mile he raised his glasses again. +"Chap at the wheel's the only man in sight," he reported. +"He don't seem to have spotted us yet. Must +be deaf, not to hear the explosions of our exhaust. Ah, +perhaps that accounts for it! He's an old cove—big +shock of white hair. 'Bout time he was getting his +helmet on, though, with this sun beginning to bore into +the back of his neck. Ahoy, there!..."</p> + +<p class="indent">But there was no reply. The lone white-haired figure +was still jiggering at the wheel when the launch, nosing +in cautiously in the up-boil of reversed propellers, slid +past the <i>Cora's</i> stern and the loom of her counter cut it +off from our view.</p> + +<p class="indent">A moss-shiny Jacob's Ladder hung over the starboard +side amidships, where a section of the "nigger-wire" +had been cut away, doubtless when the labour-recruits +were disembarked. Butler climbed up first, then the +<i>Herald</i> man (who had come off on the Doctor's invitation +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" id="page214"></a>[pg 214]</span> +to see the ship made famous by the great exploit +of the Hon. Hartley Allen), and then myself. Butler +lingered at the ladder for a few moments, giving +orders to his men about bringing the disinfecting paraphernalia +aboard; so it was given to the newspaper man +to be the first to go aft and discover that the moving, +gibbering white-haired wretch lashed to the wheel of the +schooner represented the sum total of the mental and +physical remnants of the man whose doings he had been +detailed to chronicle.</p> + +<p class="indent">The horrified reporter uttered no sound—simply froze +and stood rooted to the deck in amazed consternation. It +was as though the basilisk stare of the maniac's eyes had +turned the flesh and blood of his rangy frame to stone. +When he stirred finally, it was to tip-toe softly back +two or three paces to where I, in turn, had frozen in my +tracks. It was his hand on my shoulder and his white +face thrust close to mine that broke my own trance. Then +the both of us must have retreated another step or two, +until we bumped into Butler, similarly petrified with +horror.</p> + +<p class="indent">I am almost certain that not one of the three of us +made any outcry, or even uttered a word, so paralyzing +was the effect of the apparition at the wheel. The first +sound I definitely recall as breaking in upon those muffled +mowings from the cockpit was a booming gasp as +Ranga's mighty chest sucked in a lungful of air, and +then the big Malay's quiet "'Scuse me, Tuan," as he +started to shove past between me and the deckhouse.</p> + +<p class="indent">The yellow giant had seen too many men, white and +black, lose their minds and their lives on that reeking old +schooner to let the snapping of one more brain, or the +parting of one more life-line, ruffle unduly his solid Oriental +composure. He had been fond of Allen, however, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" id="page215"></a>[pg 215]</span> +and I could see that he was shaken, though not, like the +rest of us, unnerved. There was a rumble of concern and +anxiety even in that respectful "'Scuse me, Tuan," as +he started to push past the blockade the cowering forms +of three lesser men had made in the narrow passage.</p> + +<p class="indent">Ranga's steadiness was good for the rest of us. Butler +checked the Malay with upraised hand and, muttering +something about his duty as a doctor, started aft, the +<i>Herald</i> man and I pushing in his wake. If it had been +possible for the fear-distorted features of the wreck of +"Slant" Allen to express extremer terror, that heightened +degree was registered when Butler extended his +opened clasp-knife to begin severing the lashings. I have +no wish to attempt to describe that hell-haunted face. +Indeed, there will be scant need of my doing so, for there +can be few readers of this record who are not already +familiar with its tortured lineaments. It seared itself +into my brain with a white heat of intensity that left no +room for any other image. At the moment it seemed as +though it must be blazoned there as long as my body was +quick with the spark of life, or at least until my reason +recoiled at the horror of it and tottered from its throne. +A little later, when the dread face itself had been hidden +from my sight, a light seemed suddenly to flash out in +the distance, and in groping toward it I found relief.</p> + +<p class="indent">The ghastly shadow of the Hon. Hartley Allen +was standing wedged in between the wheel and the binnacle-stand, +his wrists lashed to the spokes of the former +and a maze of tangled line binding his knees to the latter. +The lashing was a length cut from the taffrail-log-line, +another piece of which had been used to secure a gag of +wadded oakum. The only wound visible (save for the +wrists chafed through to the white cords of their tendons +in his desperate tuggings to tear free) was a half-inch-wide +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" id="page216"></a>[pg 216]</span> +incision on the right inner side of the neck, evidently +made by the point of a knife pressed in close to +the swell of the jugular vein. As this cut was hardly +more than a deep prick, it seemed probable that the +knife had been used, not to inflict injury, but rather to +compel the victim to remain quiet while he was being +secured.</p> + +<p class="indent">As the wrist lashings fell away, Allen lurched savagely +forward with a throaty "g-rrr" and did his best +to claw Butler's throat with his fingers. His strength +was spent by his night-long struggles, however, and +Ranga easily smothered the attack in the crook of his +interposed arm. The removal of the gag did not, as +might have been expected from the way the chest had +been labouring, release a frantic scream. The passages +of the throat, although the neck revealed no evidences +of having been choked—recently, that is,—appeared to +be swollen almost shut. The windpipe would carry air +to the lungs, but every effort to expel it violently seemed +to clap a sort of automatic muffler on the vocal chords.</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen collapsed limply into Ranga's arms when his leg +lashings had been cut, but he would not swoon. The +dread of the damned continued to stream from his staring +and unbelievably dilated eyes; those hoarse heavings +of throat-throttled shrieks continued to issue from his +gaping mouth; every time a hand or foot was freed, he +continued to strike or kick with it to the limit of his +pitifully drained strength.</p> + +<p class="indent">Butler said that the only hope of saving the man's +mind, and probably his life as well, was to rush him to +the hospital and put him under an opiate as quickly as +possible. Ranga picked up the tortured body carefully, +as he might have handled a struggling kitten, and passed +it down to the launch. Butler had the forethought to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" id="page217"></a>[pg 217]</span> +have us all sprayed with the disinfectant before we went +over the side, so as to minimize the chances of our carrying +off any plague germs.</p> + +<p class="indent">Just as the launch was about to shove off, Ranga +begged the coxswain to hold on for a moment, and went +clambering back up the latter. He ran aft, picked up +something from the deck, and came back tucking his +little Malay flute into the waistband of his dungarees. +He had dropped it in the cockpit, he explained.</p> + +<p class="indent">About all I can recall of the run back to the landing +was the interminable number of times the <i>Herald</i> man +insisted on telling us that he had been talking to Hartley +Allen all the while the latter had been shifting into his +jockey togs for the Planters' Handicap, and of how Butler, +each time, replied: "And he slept in my pajamas all +the time he was in quarantine." Possibly I said equally +trivial things; but I don't recall them. I was conscious +of a great pity for the plight of the man for whom I had +come to have a genuine liking, and a dull sort of wonder +as to how the tragedy might have happened and who was +responsible for it. But the haunting horror of that fear-stricken +face hung like a curtain in front of my mind, +dimming or blanking everything behind it.</p> + +<p class="indent">At Butler's suggestion, he—with Ranga to help—took +a carriage at the landing and drove direct to the hospital +with Allen, while the <i>Herald</i> man and I went in my trap +to the Police Station to report to the Chief. The latter +had recently come to his present job from Charters +Towers, where he had made something of a name for himself +by breaking up a gang of outlaws who had long been +doing pretty much as they pleased in that rough and +ready bonanza town. He was a chap of great determination, +energy and courage, but of little subtlety—rather +the type of a Western American sheriff than a city police +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" id="page218"></a>[pg 218]</span> +chief. I had met him at the Club two or three times, +and liked him for his steady eye and open straightforwardness.</p> + +<p class="indent">The Chief was a little impatient at the <i>Herald</i> man's +repetitions of the togs-shifting episode, and possibly also +of my own wooden silence; but he got to the salient facts +readily, and was no less forward with his deductions +therefrom.</p> + +<p class="indent">"'Squid' Saunders beyond a doubt," he pronounced +decisively. "His sloop was sighted twice between here +and Cairns, the last time only fifty miles to the north'ard. +He could have landed night before last easy. Any of the +lagoons running back into the Caradarra Swamp would +hide his sloop. That would have given him all day yesterday +to scout for Allen. Why the schooner I don't +quite twig. But the 'Squid' was always adding devilish +little embroideries to his jobs, and leaving a man to rot +on a plague ship has all of his ear-marks. Never mind, +I've had two launches patrolling the north coast for him +since yesterday morning. He must have landed before +they got there. But they'll nab him if he pulls out with +the sloop again, and if he doesn't, <i>I'll</i> nab him. I hate +to do it with a white man, but I'm going to put Rawdon's +'nigger-chasers' on his trail. I've got 'Squid's' +old suit of clothes—the one he threw away when Allen +bought him a new outfit—stowed away here, and I fancy +a sniff of it will be enough to put them on the scent +with. If I don't miss my guess, Mr. 'Squid' Saunders +will be enjoying our bed and board again before another +twenty-four hours has gone by."</p> + +<p class="indent">The Chief dropped his professional manner for a few +moments as we arose to go. "Allen was a good friend of +yours, Mr. Whitney," he said, laying a kindly grip on +my shoulder. "I don't wonder that you're a bit dazed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" id="page219"></a>[pg 219]</span> +by the thing. Rather puts a damper on the picture, I'm +afraid. Going up the hill now, are you? Good—a bit +of a rest will steady you no end. Ring up this evening +and we'll give you the news. It won't be long before we +have our man."</p> + +<p class="indent">The <i>Herald</i> man, with the Chief's approval, rushed off +to the telegraph office to dispatch his wire. I drove +round to the hospital to pick up Ranga and inquire for +news of Allen. Butler came down to see me in the +reception-room and reported that it had taken an astonishing +quantity of morphine to have any effect upon the +patient, but that he was at last beginning to grow quieter. +His heart action was very irregular and there was no +saying yet what turn things might take. He asked me to +let Ranga remain at the hospital for a day or two. They +were short of orderlies as a consequence of the smallpox +epidemic, and the big Malay was a very useful attendant +on account of his strength, quietness and good +sense. As they were trying to avoid the necessity of +putting Allen in a strait-jacket, they wanted someone +in the room able to handle him if he became violent again +on coming out from his opiate. I told him to keep Ranga +as long as he was needed.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" id="page220"></a>[pg 220]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XV<br /> +<small>THE FACE</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">The</span> Chief of Police's allusion to the picture had +started a nebulous idea in my head, but it took it +several hours to crystallize. Driving alone up +the hill, my mind gravitated dully to the matter of the +identity of the perpetrator of the unspeakable outrage. +I found myself speculating as to whether or not the Chief +of Police, had he known of Rona's previous attacks upon +Allen, would have been as ready as he was to attribute +the guilt to "Squid" Saunders. And would he—had he +known of them—been able to trace any connection between +Rona's repeated attempts to induce Allen to go off +to the schooner with her and the fact that the crime had +been committed there? And didn't it look just a little +as though Rona's whole strange plan for having a picture +painted was only a subterfuge to open the way for a +carefully plotted revenge? And yet, if she had done all +this, she surely must have had—or thought she had—a +good reason for doing it. But had not Oakes established +a clear alibi for the girl when he met her "away +inland" the same afternoon men had been reported to +have been seen on the schooner? Probably, but not certainly. +Oakes himself had said that she was "a great +walker" and "very restless."</p> + +<p class="indent">It was conceivable that the girl might have doubled +back and waylaid Allen on the road. Or perhaps she +had met him by appointment. He had admitted that +he was becoming increasingly subject to her will. But +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page221" id="page221"></a>[pg 221]</span> +how could she have induced him to go off to the schooner, +and how had they gone? No boat had been sighted along +the beach (we had looked for one through Butler's +glasses on our return to the landing), and none was +reported missing from the harbour. The Chief had inquired +on that latter point while we were with him at +the Station.</p> + +<p class="indent">And how had Rona, or anyone else for that matter, +been able to get the better of such a man as Allen, fully +armed and on the alert as I knew him to have been, and +noted for his resourcefulness in emergency? That train +of thought reminded me that we had found no arms on +Allen when we released him. His right coat-pocket was +empty, and so was the knife-sheath on his right hip. But +his pocketbook, containing a considerable amount in +notes, had not been taken.... It was all too much for +my tired brain, which, ready enough to suggest questions, +was quite incapable of grappling with them. +When I drove into the home clearing I was wondering +whether the broken glass I had noticed in the bottom +of the cockpit was that from the whisky bottle Allen +had told me Rona had thrown at him the morning Bell +gave up the fight.</p> + +<p class="indent">I was horribly tired, both in mind and body, and hoped +that, with a glass or two of absinthe to relax my nerves, +I might be able to sleep at least through the heat of the +noonday. Shifting into my pajamas,—after telling +Suey, my China boy, that I would not want lunch and +not to disturb me until I sent for him,—I crawled under +the mosquito-net and tried to drop off. But it was no +use. No sooner would I begin to doze than the expiring +images of my thoughts would shuffle up and sharpen +with a steel-clicking suddenness into the dread likeness +of The Face, with its dilated eyes boring me to the spine.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page222" id="page222"></a>[pg 222]</span> +At the end of a couple of hours of fevered tossing, I +gave it up, threw off my pajamas, stepped to the low +back-window ledge and took a header into the cool green +pool below. The Face dissolved as the thrill of the refreshing +embrace of the water ran through my blood, +but only to return when, after donning a fresh suit of +drills, I began a restless pacing of the floor of the big +living-room—my studio. Always it flashed a pace or two +ahead of me, floating backward as I advanced upon it +and swinging with me at the end of the room. I could +not wheel swiftly enough to lose it, and it made no difference +whether my eyes were opened or closed. I tried +it both ways.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was in the course of an experimental lap I was trying +with my hands over my eyes that I bumped into the +big rectangle of canvas I had prepared in advance +against the day I should be ready to start work on +"The Saving of the Black-birder." Ten seconds later +I was pawing over my colours with feverish haste. The +idea swimming in my head had crystallized. It was, in +effect: <i>Put The Face on canvas and it will cease to haunt +and harrow your mind</i>. That sounded reasonable. Certainly +The Face couldn't be in two places at once, and +if I once got it anchored to the canvas I could cover it +up when I wanted to get away from it. It would all +depend upon how faithfully I did my work, something +told me. If the face on the canvas was a replica of +the other to a hair, to a line, to the fear in the hell-haunted +eyes, then the phantom face would enter into it +and become subject to my control. If not—then I would +never know sleep nor peace while I continued to live.</p> + +<p class="indent">No artist can ever have approached a task under empire +of the flaming intensity I threw into this one. I was +painting to save my reason, perhaps my life. That is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page223" id="page223"></a>[pg 223]</span> +not a figure of speech. I mean it quite literally, for I am +convinced to this day that I stumbled upon the only +path that would have led me clear of complete mental +and physical collapse.</p> + +<p class="indent">There was a rather remarkable coincidence in connection +with the way I started to work. Nothing told me +that those first nervous slashes of my brush signalized +the beginning of a picture the fame of which was destined +to reach the outposts of the civilized world before the +year was out. All thought of "The Black-birder" was +erased from my mind. I had no idea of a picture in my +head. I was not even beginning to work upon a figure. +I was only conscious that I was going to put all I had +into the task of reproducing—recreating, if that were +possible—with coloured pigments a phantom of my +brain—a face—The Face.</p> + +<p class="indent">I had no thought, I say, of beginning a picture. I +sketched nothing in, not even the outline of the haunting +shadow I was going to try to capture. A very few +minutes after I began squeezing out colours onto my +palette I was smearing them upon a patch of the big +six-feet-by-ten expanse of woven cotton in front of me. +The coincidence I have mentioned became apparent +some weeks later, when I discovered that, of all the sixty +square feet of canvas before me, the something less than +one square foot upon which I concentrated my paint +and energies for the next thirty hours chanced to be in +exactly the place it <i>had</i> to be for the result of my effort +to assume its proper place in a somewhat intricate composition. +I will tell of that in due course.</p> + +<p class="indent">Save for the strain of the terrible tension under which +I worked, the task to which I had set myself proved absolutely +the simplest I ever attempted. It seemed that I +could not go wrong. It was not like painting a face +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page224" id="page224"></a>[pg 224]</span> +from memory, nor yet like painting one from a model. +It was more like colouring a photograph, for the image, +terrible as life, was right there on the canvas at the end +of my arm. At first, as I tried to visualize it at shorter +range than the five or six feet at which it had been floating, +it was a bit hazy; but presently my intense concentration +of mind had its reward. The dreadful phantom drew +nearer, increased in detail, and finally sharpened into +clear focus at the tip of my brush. After that I became +just a meticulously faithful retoucher, working in a +trance.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was toward the middle of the afternoon when Suey +came in to ask if I was going to be home for dinner. +He was becoming used to my queer ways, and, when I +failed to take any notice of his reiterated query, came +over and touched me on the shoulder. I "came out" +with a start, but gathered my wits quickly. I told Suey +that I should probably be working steadily for the next +day or two and would want nothing to eat until I was +finished. If he would bring me a bowl of cracked ice +every hour and see that no one was allowed in to bother +me, it would be all I should want of him. He replied +with a laconic "Can do," and backed out toward the +kitchen as though I had asked for curry-and-rice for +dinner, or ordered something else equally rational and +matter-of-fact.</p> + +<p class="indent">I settled back into my spell of tranced concentration +with scarcely an effort, working swiftly and surely, with +never a pause. The "drawing" was all done for me, +and even in the matter of colours there was no hesitation. +Exactly the proper shade or tint drew my brush +like a magnet; and always it was applied with telling +effect.</p> + +<p class="indent">The sunset shadows of the western hills were driving +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" id="page225"></a>[pg 225]</span> +their black wedges across the satiny sheen of the light-flickering +levels of the waving sugar-cane when I became +aware that a sound I had been conscious of for some +time had suddenly changed and intensified. If my mind +had tried to catalogue the clear notes that had been +floating in through the north window, it was probably +to credit them to a certain bell-bird friend of mine who +was in the habit of ringing his vesper chimes from a +leafy chapel in the big bottle tree toward the end of the +afternoon. But there was nothing bird-like in the quick +staccato of eager yelps that had been responsible for +bringing me, with ears and interest a-cock, out of my +trance. "Dogs closing in for a kill," I muttered to myself, +realizing that it had been the distant baying of +hounds on a hot scent that I had confused with the more +imminent chiming of my Austral bell-ringing neighbour. +The sounds came from a long way off—probably from +somewhere in the dense bush beyond the farther borders +of the cane fields. It was a northerly hauling of the wind +that brought them down to me so clearly. The air had +been charged and electric all day, and the breaking up +of the trade wind indicated that a hurricane was mustering +its forces somewhere up among the Islands. I had +not looked at the barometer on the veranda, but knew +that it must be registering a considerable fall.</p> + +<p class="indent">The crack of a single shot drifted down the wind as +the yelping reached its climax. Then all was quiet in +the distance, with only an occasional cackling guffaw of +a "laughing jackass" ripping across the silence that +brooded nearer at hand. I didn't know what there was +to hunt in that particular neck of Queensland, but +thought it might be kangaroos or dingoes. It wasn't of +enough interest to waste time in speculating upon it, +just then in any event.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" id="page226"></a>[pg 226]</span> +Daylight had given way to twilight, and twilight to +moonlight, before I stopped work again, this time to respond +to an insistent ringing of the telephone bell. +Oakes' deep voice came excitedly over the wire. "I +thought you would be interested to know that Rawdon's +dogs tracked down 'Squid' Saunders this afternoon," it +said. "He has just been brought in. Bullet through +his shoulder, but not a serious wound. The report went +around that he had confessed to the attack on Hartley +Allen, and the town went wild. Only the Chief's nerve +prevented a lynching, and there may be trouble yet. +Never saw the people so excited." In response to my +inquiry about Allen, Oakes said that he had been drugged +to sleep early in the afternoon, and that there was no +use trying to forecast what turn things would take until +he came out.</p> + +<p class="indent">"That clears Rona, at any rate," was my thought as +I drained a glass of iced absinthe and picked up my +brush again. I found it just a shade harder materializing +The Face than it had been at first, but managed it +at the end of a minute or two of close concentration. +Save for an occasional pause for a sip of absinthe, I +worked steadily on through the night.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="indent">To make clear what transpired the following day, it +will be well to set down at this point a few things which +I only learned in a conversation with the Chief of +Police after the last act of the drama was played to a +finish and the curtain rung down. Contrary to the understanding +of Dr. Oakes, and all the rest of the people of +Townsville with the exception of the Chief of Police and +a couple of his assistants, "Squid" Saunders had <i>not</i> +confessed. From what he <i>had</i> said in the presence of +all his captors, however, it was easy to see how the story +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" id="page227"></a>[pg 227]</span> +had originated. He admitted quite freely to Rawdon, +after the latter had called off his dogs and was lending +a hand to plug up the puncture in "Squid's" shoulder, +that his one purpose in returning had been to settle his +account with "Slant" Allen. He also said that he would +rather be strung up straightaway than to be sent back to +West Australia and begin, at sixty, serving out a twenty-odd-year +sentence.</p> + +<p class="indent">That was about all Saunders said at the time of his +capture, but later, after expressing himself to the Chief +of Police to similar effect, he went a little further. He +averred frankly that curiosity had always been one of +his most pronounced characteristics, and, while he entertained +only the kindliest feelings for whoever it was that +had been responsible for tying up "Slant" Allen and +leaving him alone to meditate upon his past, he couldn't +help wondering about the identity of a man able to pull +off such a cleverly thought-out and executed piece of +business. Might he not suggest to the Chief that the +latter try to find some trifle that this bright-minded and +quick-handed cove had left behind on the schooner, and +see if those sharp-nosed—yes, and sharp-teethed—dogs +of his couldn't be put on the owner's trail. They appeared +a very likely lot of hounds, especially that big +black-and-tan brute with a chewed ear, who had broken +away from the ruck and fastened his teeth in the +"Squid's" calf.</p> + +<p class="indent">This all struck the straightforward, open-minded +Chief as entirely reasonable. It was only fair to Saunders, +too, and since saving him from the mob that afternoon +the Chief had come to take a sort of proprietary +interest in his prisoner. Going off to the schooner in +the morning he found a small fragment of red rag in the +cockpit, which, though it was greasy and dirty, did not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" id="page228"></a>[pg 228]</span> +show signs of exposure to the weather, and must, therefore, +have been left comparatively recently. It was a +six-by-eight-inch piece of flowered red calico, of the kind +used by the natives of all parts of the South Seas for +waist-cloths. Even if he wasn't able to locate the particular +<i>sulu</i> from which it was torn, the Chief reckoned +that it would give the dogs something to go by.</p> + +<p class="indent">Rawdon's "nigger-chasers" were of a foxhound-bloodhound +cross that the old ex-bushranger had bred +especially for the purpose of chivvying down runaway +blacks from the sugar plantations. The swart sextette +displayed a very encouraging interest in the greasy rag +the Chief brought them to sniff; so much so, indeed, +that they were far from drained of enthusiasm at the +end of a bootless day's nosing up and down the coast +for tracks that gave back the same ingratiating aroma. +It looked quite good enough to warrant going on with +the game the following morning, Rawdon pronounced, +as he started back on foot for his kennels on the southwest +outskirts of town. (The old chap had some kind +of a theory about its being destructive to a hound's +keeness to tote him around on wheels: also, he had stumbled +upon many trails where he least expected them, even +in the town.)</p> + +<p class="indent">Rawdon was striding a couple of blocks ahead of his +two helpers when, crossing the town end of the main +westerly highway to the hills, the dog he was holding in +leash—the big black-and-tan with the chewed ear, by far +his keenest-nosed hound—broke away and set off up the +side of the road in full cry. As there was no hope of +trying to overtake him on foot, Rawdon waited for the +other dogs to come up and catch the scent, cautioning his +men to hold them well in leash and not to hurry until +he rejoined them. Then he ran back a quarter of a mile +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page229" id="page229"></a>[pg 229]</span> +to the Police Station to summon the Chief and get a +horse.</p> + +<p class="indent">This was about seven o'clock in the evening of Wednesday, +the day after we had found Hartley Allen bound +to the wheel of the <i>Cora Andrews</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="indent">At the moment the big black-and-tan hound tore his +leash out of Rawdon's hand and started to burn up the +footpath beside the westerly hill road, I had been streaking +a small patch of canvas with coloured pigments for +something like thirty hours in a desperate endeavour to +drive a phantom out of my brain. I was near to the end +of my labours and—I could sense it already—close to +victory. I had made a hard fight for it and I deserved +to win. Using absinthe sparingly—as a fuel and a food +rather than as a stimulant—and drawing upon my nerves +for everything the drug would not provide, I had kept +going steadily and was finishing strong.</p> + +<p class="indent">There had been but one interruption since the night +before. Early in the forenoon Captain "Choppy" Tancred +had called up to say that he had brought his new +command to anchor in the harbour the previous evening, +and that, as he had a good twenty-four hours' loading to +do, he hoped that we could find time to foregather for +a bit of a yarn in the course of the day. Would I come +down and have lunch with him at the hotel, or would he +drive up to me? He would rather prefer the former, +as the barometer was down and he ought to remain where +he could get off to his ship in a hurry if it came on to +blow. I made the best excuse my wandering wits could +frame, and hung up. The old boy's voluble protests were +still clicking in the receiver as I returned it to its hook.</p> + +<p class="indent">I had a hard time materializing my "model" again +after that break, and it was fifteen or twenty minutes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page230" id="page230"></a>[pg 230]</span> +before I was sure enough of it to resume work. For a +while, in the back of my brain, there was a flutter of +apprehension that old "Choppy" would take it into his +head to come up anyhow, and I was desperately afraid +that I might not be able to "connect" again after another +interruption—that I would fail to focus The Face +at the one moment of all when I most needed it. There +would have been comfort in that thought twenty-four +hours earlier, but by now a desire to finish the portrait +for its own sake seemed to have entered into me.</p> + +<p class="indent">But my fears were groundless. "Choppy" was properly +rebuffed, and had no intention of poking in where +he "wasna weelcom'." (He told me so himself later.) +There was no further interruption, save the negligible +one of Suey and the cracked ice, sharp on every hour. +As the sunset faded and the twilight flooded the valley +with luminous purple mist, I was finished—or nearly +finished. The Face was all but complete on the canvas +now, and all but erased from my brain. It had taken an +intense effort of concentration to hold it while I put the +last touch on that writhen lip, as it curled back in a snarl +from the bared teeth. But I did it. And now—just a +stroke in that whorl of iris to accentuate the abnormal +dilation, to fix the horror in that ghastly stare! Slowly +the image sharpened in my brain. Again the fear-haunted +eyes held my own. Now! I was just darting +my delicately poised brush forward when the sound of +voices from the veranda arrested the colour-daubed tip +a hair short of the blurring eye its touch would have +made a hopeless smudge. "Maskey—no can do!" came +in Suey's brusque <i>pidgin</i>; and then, following a sudden +scuffle and the sharp click of the latch, a familiar chirrup +floated to my ears. "Let me in, Whit-nee! Hur-ree, +ple-ese, Whit-nee!" was what it said.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page231" id="page231"></a>[pg 231]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVI<br /> +<small>A SUDDEN VISITOR</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">As</span> a rider reins in his stumbling horse, so did I rein +in my stumbling nerves. It was now or never, I +told myself. If those final touches were not given +before I stirred from my tracks, they would never be +given. I closed my eyes and my ears—not with my hands +but by a sheer effort of will—and then, inch by inch, as +though I were dragging it by the throat, brought the +phantom prototype back and forced it to merge with the +face on the canvas. The tip of my brush flashed twice, +thrice. Then I relaxed the tentacles of my will, and as +the phantom face, receding, blurred to blankness, it left +behind, where a wisp of green-smeared camel's hair had +touched the canvas, an expression of hell-haunted terror +streaming from the unnaturally dilated eyes of the <i>completed</i> +picture-face.</p> + +<p class="indent">I was breathing heavily, like a coolie who throws down +his back-breaking burden at the end of a hard climb, +when I tossed aside my brush and palette, but no wretch +of a human pack-mule ever knew the depth of relief that +was mine. A carrier could only experience the physical +satisfaction of feeling his back was freed of a load: mine +was the spiritual ecstasy of knocking off the shackles +that had threatened to bind my soul. And now I was +free to rush to the arms of the "Green Lady"! No +more need of rationing my absinthe. I spilled the remaining +contents of the bottle at my elbow in the bowl +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" id="page232"></a>[pg 232]</span> +of half-melted cracked ice, and wolfed it greedily over +the tilted brim.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Ple-ese, Whit-nee, I have the great hur-ree." Again +came the click-clack of the imprisoned latch and the thud +of a knee or shoulder against the door.</p> + +<p class="indent">"One moment, Rona!" Steadied and alert, I set down +the emptied bowl, threw a hastily-snatched couch-cover +over the canvas so that the space upon which I had +worked was hidden, and stepped to the door. Already +I felt the exaltation and relief of having banished the +dread phantom. And the picture face on the canvas—how +easy it was to blot out! The hanging corner of an +old steamer-rug....</p> + +<p class="indent">Rona pushed in eagerly as I swung back the door, +Suey relaxing his restraining grip and backing away +noiselessly at my reassuring nod. All the old verve +showed in the girl's high-flung head and flashing eye. +Sullenness, depression, sadness alike were gone, replaced +by an air of eagerness, of suppressed excitement. She +was still wearing the baggy <i>holakau</i> the lady missionaries +had wished upon her, but with it—looped over her +breasts and under her shoulders <i>sarong</i>-fashion—was the +peacock shawl, outlining softly the lithe curves of shoulder +and hip and flowing clingingly in folds of amber and +scintillant opalescence below her knees.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Whit-nee, I come to make the good-bye," she gushed +cooingly, catching her breath. "Tonight I take boat go +Seengapo. Whit-nee, I come here to tell you I ver-ree +sor-ree I make you troubl' 'bout the pick-yur. I tella +you lie, Whit-nee. I cannot—make—the pick-yur. Bel-la, +he say—"</p> + +<p class="indent">At that instant a strange thing happened. Two or +three times since she entered the room, Rona's eyes, +as though drawn there irresistibly, had wandered from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page233" id="page233"></a>[pg 233]</span> +mine to what could have appeared to her no more than +a corner of plaid rug hanging over a broad blank of +tightly stretched canvas. She had done this again as she +started to speak, and it was a slight widening of her eyes +that caused me to turn and follow her glance. The +hastily-flung rug was slowly slipping back off the easel. +The fringed corner hanging down in front was rising. +Possibly a draught from the open door had started the +movement, or perhaps the swishing blows a wind-lashed +tree was dealing the side of the house. Whatever was +the cause, the effect was that of an invisible hand slowly +drawing up a curtain.</p> + +<p class="indent">Rona's tongue framed the sentence that was in her +mind, but the words came brokenly as her puzzled wonderment +increased. As her double-syllabled rendition of +Bell's name fell from her lips the accelerating slide of +the curtain quickened to a run, and, with a flirt of +green fringe, the masking corner disappeared over the +top of the frame. The Face—"Slant" Allen's hell-haunted +face, tortured and terrible—glared out at her +from the broad white field of the canvas.</p> + +<p class="indent">There was sheer amazement in the down-drop of the +girl's lean jaw and a suggestion of terror in the gasp +with which she filled her deflated lungs. But the piercing +"<i>ey-yu</i>" with which that air was forced out again +was a battle-cry. Fortunately, I was standing a couple +of paces nearer the canvas than was she; but even with +that handicap in my favour it was a near squeak. I +caught the gleam of a flashing blade and a quick grab +sunk my crooked fingers deep into the flesh of a thrusting +arm. Hurling the arrested figure back toward the +door, I stooped and picked up a knife—that beautifully +balanced Portuguese throwing-knife that Allen and I +had been flinging at the swelling bole of the big bottle-tree +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page234" id="page234"></a>[pg 234]</span> +the previous Sunday. To this day I do not know +whether Rona thought she was attacking a reincarnation +or a ghost, or was only bent on destroying an uncannily +life-like portrait that awakened savage memories.</p> + +<p class="indent">I swished the fallen rug from under the easel and +rehung it—evenly this time—before turning to confront +Rona, where she was readjusting—with raised elbows +and twinkling thumbs—the hitch of the peacock shawl in +the opposite corner of the room. She had scrambled to +her feet again, but gave no sign of returning to the attack. +Her eyes were snapping with anger and excitement, +but I did not have the feeling that she entertained +any especial personal resentment against me for the +rough handling I had given her.</p> + +<p class="indent">"So it was you after all," I said slowly, fingering the +tapering blade of the tell-tale knife.</p> + +<p class="indent">Her lips moved as though in reply, but if she said +anything coherent it was drowned in the roar of a sudden +gust of wind that buffetted the bungalow at that +moment. I turned to the girl again after closing the +north windows. Her eyes were fixed on vacancy now, +and her head, with the clean-cut chin slightly elevated, +was turned sideways in an attitude of listening. As the +banging of the trees died down my own duller tympana +registered a new vibration—and yet not quite new—something +that I had heard very recently. Ah, now I +had it! The baying of a hound, very near and very +eager. A red-hot scent beyond doubt, I told myself. +But why were Rawdon's "nigger-chasers" running at +that hour, and into the teeth of a rising hurricane? +There was questioning in both our glances as the girl's +eyes met mine, but in hers certainly no hint of fear.</p> + +<p class="indent">Before either of us spoke a firm, quick step sounded +from the back of the house, and a moment later, following +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page235" id="page235"></a>[pg 235]</span> +a light tap on the door, Ranga entered from my +bedroom. If he was surprised at Rona's presence, or at +her somewhat dishevelled appearance, he gave no sign +of it. Nor was there about me—now that I was holding +the knife behind my back—anything to suggest to the +Malay that he had stumbled upon a situation in the least +out of the normal.</p> + +<p class="indent">Tuan "Slant" was sleeping heavily, he said, and so +he had snatched the opportunity to come up for some +of his own Borneo tobacco and a change of clothes. They +had nothing in the hospital large enough for him. Tuan +"Slant" was growing stronger in body, but—he finished +by tapping his temple and shaking his head dubiously.</p> + +<p class="indent">A heavier broadside of the gathering storm shook the +house again, this time sending a shudder through its +stout frame and wringing a vibrant <i>ping</i> from the +tautened "hurricane cables" that guyed its windward +corners. Out of the heart of that blast came the bell-mouthed +baying of the nearing hound. He was still +sounding his clear bugle notes as he swung in through +the gate from the road, but down the driveway, with the +incense of the burning trail conjuring visions of an +imminent quarry in his brain, he began tearing his throat +with harsh, savage yelps of eagerness. I was looking +for his charge to come against the closed front door, +but a sudden shower of claw-spurned gravel rat-a-tat-ing +against the glass of the French windows told that he had +wheeled in his tracks and was circling to the rear of +the house. A yell and a clatter of saucepans from the +kitchen, a scramble of slipping claws upon the hardwood +floor of the back hallway, and in from the open +door of my bedroom—drooling-fanged, bloody-eyed and +bloody-minded—came dashing that black bolt of canine +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page236" id="page236"></a>[pg 236]</span> +fury, closing on his cornered quarry for the death-grapple.</p> + +<p class="indent">Ranga, on entering, had moved a step or two aside +from the door, a survival doubtless of his training at +sea, where an idle man blocking a companionway or a +ladder is liable to be taught manners by a rap on the +head. Rona was still in the corner to which I had hurled +her. I was at the opposite corner, near the big canvas +and twenty feet or more from the girl. The flying hound +tried to check himself at the doorway, but the polished +floor gave him no grip for his claws. Down on his +haunches, with forefeet poked rigidly ahead, he slid the +full width of the room, tobogganing on a smooth-running +Samoan mat for the last half of the distance.</p> + +<p class="indent">With the certainty of Rona's guilt fixed in my mind +by her possession of Allen's knife, I had no doubt, from +the moment the hound's baying indicated it had turned +into the clearing, that it was hot on her trail. But even +so, the brute's entry by the bedroom door had been so +unexpected and so swift that I had not stirred from +my tracks to the girl's defence when the snarling animal, +shooting across the room, brought up against the wall +close beside her. Even Ranga, leaping forward instantly +as he had, was scarcely past the middle of the floor when +the beast regained its balance and bearings almost at the +girl's feet. Drawing back into the angle of the walls and +crouching low like a cornered cat, Rona awaited the attack, +while Ranga, barehanded, and I with the throwing-knife +rushed in to her aid. Without an instant's hesitation, +the savage beast spun to a full right-about and, +brushing the girl's advanced knee as though it was no +more than the piano stool, launched itself full at the +throat of the yellow man.</p> + +<p class="indent">Ranga's counter was swift, sure and terrible. He +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page237" id="page237"></a>[pg 237]</span> +might have been fighting bloodhounds barehanded from +childhood, for all the surprise and dismay he showed at +the sudden attack. Where my own instinct (if I had not +tried to side-step the charge completely) would have +been to grapple for the brute's throat from beneath, he +simply struck—or rather grabbed—down from above. +The impact crushed the snarling beast to the floor, but +when Ranga raised his arm again he was gripping his +struggling canine adversary by the scruff of the neck. +Or rather, I thought it was the scruff. In reality his +grip was a bit more inclusive.</p> + +<p class="indent">Holding the floundering black form at arm's length +with no more effort than if it had been a terrier, Ranga +suddenly tightened his hold. I saw the hound's red-lidded +eyes grow slant and elongated like a Chinaman's +as the skin of its scalp was drawn backward in the relentless +vise closing from behind; then a grinding snick +cut short an unearthly scream of pain, and the hound +was dangling limp and lifeless with a crumpled spine at +the end of a gibbet of knotted yellow muscle. Ranga +tossed lightly aside what a moment before had been a +flying bolt of wrath, and where the great head doubled +under against a flowered chintz window-curtain I saw the +sprawling outline of a tooth-torn ear, doubtless the scar +of a fight with a luckier ending.</p> + +<p class="indent">In its strangely terrible tenseness, the electrically +charged silence that succeeded has no parallel in my +experience. Not a word was spoken. The only sound +was the banging of the wind-wrenched trees against the +house and the nearing mutter of the thunder in the +north. The significance of the fact that it was Ranga +the dog had been trailing was lost upon neither Rona +nor me, nor yet upon the big Malay himself. The latter +met my questioning glance steadily for a moment, but +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page238" id="page238"></a>[pg 238]</span> +it was the girl's piercing stare of fierce concentration that +drew and held his troubled black eyes. While one might +have counted fifty those two stood and (as I have since +understood) communed with eye and mind. It was a +sudden thunder-clap that broke the connection and +checked the interflow of thought. Ranga had not winced +at the blinding flash and close-following crash, but Rona's +higher strung nerves fluttered for an instant, and the +wire was down. But Ranga's words indicated that the +message was about complete.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Yes, I did it, Tuan," he said quietly, turning toward +me as though answering my unspoken question. "It had +to be, Tuan, and—yes, I did it."</p> + +<p class="indent">It was not until afterwards I recalled that it was to +Rona I addressed my protest. "But 'Slant' swore to +me that he did not kill Bell; that he was in no way +responsible for his death, first or last."</p> + +<p class="indent">A spasm of passion twisted the girl's face to the seeming +of an ape's as she caught the drift of my words, +and her reply was almost a scream. "Not ke-el Bel-la? +'Slan' do worse than ke-el. He—"</p> + +<p class="indent">The chorus of the leashed pack that checked her words +came from so close at hand that it made itself heard +above the now unbroken roar of the storm. There was +the clang of shod hoofs on a metalled road, too, and I +thought I could distinguish the shouts of men. The +hunt was closing in for the kill.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I think I go now, Tuan. I like the better to fight +outside." Ranga's voice was as quiet and controlled as +when he had told me the news from the hospital a few +minutes before; but there was the lust of battle in his +flashing eyes, eagerness for action in the quick heave of +his chest.</p> + +<p class="indent">There was no time to debate and decide the question as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page239" id="page239"></a>[pg 239]</span> +to who had committed the outrage upon Hartley Allen, +or of what justification there might have been for it. One +thing only was clear to me, and that was that I was not +going to throw either Rona or Ranga to the dogs—no, +nor to the law either—if there was any way of avoiding +it. My mind—as was always the case when I had fasted +long and drunk absinthe sparingly—worked with lightning +swiftness.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Don't fight unless you have to," I said, stepping +closer to Ranga as the wind and thunder threatened to +drown my voice. "Follow down the stream over the +falls. Jump won't hurt you—plenty of water at the +bottom. That'll throw off the dogs. Then follow the +path by the flume down to the sea. The rain'll kill +your trail for the dogs. It ought to be starting any +minute now. Wait for me on the pier by the old +sugar mill. I'll come for you in a boat as soon as I +can."</p> + +<p class="indent">Baring his teeth in a quick grin of comprehension, +the big fellow wheeled and started for the front door. +I caught his arm and checked him just in time. "This +way!" I shouted. "Through my bedroom window. +Beat it! <i>Lekas!</i>"</p> + +<p class="indent">Again that intelligent tooth-flash of understanding. +Ranga's foreshortened bulk was making a blurred blot +against the blue-green lightning flash playing across the +rear bedroom window as I turned to answer a heavy +banging at the front door. Everything considered, I +have always felt that I got away fairly well with the +situation with which I now found myself confronted. +It was Harpool, the Chief of Police, who staggered into +the room, bracing back against the push of the still rising +wind. The flutter of the lightning revealed two or +three horses in the driveway, and three or four men +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page240" id="page240"></a>[pg 240]</span> +following a bunch of howling dogs around the corner +of the house.</p> + +<p class="indent">I was on the point of opening up at the Chief with a +facetious sally about the way he was sending his hounds +around to frighten my lady visitors, when I chanced to +glance to the corner where Rona had been, and lo—I +had no lady visitor! The girl was gone, but whether +under the couch or out of one of the windows I could +not guess. So I only gaped rather stupidly and said +nothing, leaving the Chief to open the attack. I was +glad the face on the canvas was covered, and only wished +there had been time to throw something over the crumpled +remnants of the big black-and-tan.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I am quite satisfied it isn't you we want, Mr. Whitney," +Harpool began, with a shade of embarrassment, +I thought. "But the fact remains that Rawdon's hounds +have followed a live scent straight to this house, and I +have every reason to believe they are on the trail of the +man who tied up Hartley Allen. Perhaps you can +explain—"</p> + +<p class="indent">"I think I can," I cut in, anxious to gain time for +the fugitive, but realizing that no end would be served +by trying to conceal his identity. "You're right that it +was a hot scent. Just a few degrees too hot for your +canine deputy there in the corner. It's the end of <i>his</i> +trail, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p class="indent">The Chief strode over to the limp corpse and turned +it with his foot. "Who killed this hound?" he demanded +angrily, regarding me suspiciously for the first time.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Not I, Chief," I replied jauntily; "but can't you +guess? You can see for yourself that he hasn't been +shot—or clubbed—or poisoned. Well, then—look at that +neck. Do you know of more than one man in these +parts capable of snapping a bloodhound's spine between +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page241" id="page241"></a>[pg 241]</span> +his thumb and forefinger?" (I added that little thumb-and-forefinger +touch with malice aforethought, for I +wanted to impress upon Harpool—for whatever it might +be worth—that it was no old broken-down of a "Squid" +Saunders that he was going to try to run to earth out +there in the darkness.)</p> + +<p class="indent">The Chief's honest eyes opened with amazement as +the answer dawned upon him. "You don't mean the +big Malay?" he ejaculated incredulously. "Why, he has +been tending Allen like a sister for two days. Everyone +in the hospital has been speaking about his devotion."</p> + +<p class="indent">"No other," I answered. "Ranga came up from the +hospital less than half an hour ago to get a shift of +togs. Five minutes later that hound came tearing in +through the back entrance and flew at his throat—right +here in my studio. You see the result. That fellow can +drop a horse with his fist—a dog is no more than a flea +to him."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I can hardly believe it," said the Chief, shaking his +head; "but the fact remains that if the hound went for +him, he's our man. I hope we won't have to shoot +him.... But Rawdon will never stand by and see his +dogs pinched out like that. This fellow was his best +hound by a mile. Drive him crazy when he finds it's +been dished. Gawd, that neck might have been run over +by a steam tram! What in hell—"</p> + +<p class="indent">A bedlam of howls and yells and savage oaths rising +from the rear of the house at this juncture broke in upon +the Chief and caused him to bolt on the double through +the door of the corridor leading to the kitchen. The +unearthly racket, with the rattle of pistol shots spattering +through it, made me certain that Ranga had run +afoul of the hunt at his first jump. Shuddering at the +thought of the terrible fight that must ensue, I pushed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page242" id="page242"></a>[pg 242]</span> +on after Harpool, reaching the further end of the corridor +just in time to catch his reeling form as he staggered +back from a bullet that had burned his scalp the +instant he opened the kitchen door. Astride the sill of a +kicked-in window sat old Rawdon, his bearded face distorted +with fury and pain, coughing, sneezing, cursing, +and firing impartially at all parts of the long, low room. +Under the sink, almost at Rawdon's feet but quite out of +pistol range, crouched Suey, blinking blandly and rubbing +his almond eyes. He it was who was the author of +an unpremeditated diversion which was the only thing +in the world that prevented Ranga being nabbed at the +outset.</p> + +<p class="indent">The late black-and-tan, in following Ranga's trail, had +entered the kitchen by snapping his way through the +light screen door. To prevent his lines being thus penetrated +a second time, the foxy Celestial, when he heard +the main pack rallying to the attack, closed and bolted +the heavy outside door of his domain and, with a little +surprise packet in his hand, took station beside the little +swinging window above the sink. Waiting with true +Oriental restraint till the clamouring enemy was compactly +bunched upon the porch outside, Suey gently +raised the screen and emptied the contents of a can of red +pepper into their midst. The paprika appeared to have +been pretty fairly divided between three of the most oncoming +of the dogs and their equally forward master. +The hounds quit for the night, then and there, but the +old bushranger's fighting spirit urged him on to make +the best stand he could with his automatic. Considering +the way he was being racked with coughs and sneezes, +and that he only blazed away at the creak of an opening +door his streaming eyes could not locate, his shot that +welcomed the Chief was by no means uncreditable. It +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page243" id="page243"></a>[pg 243]</span> +cut a neat furrow through Harpool's stubby pompadour +and even drew a drop or two of blood.</p> + +<p class="indent">The Chief's fervent swearing stayed Rawdon's murderous +hand just as he had finished fumbling a fresh +clip of cartridges into his emptied "thirty-eight" and +was about to start fusillading anew. Roaring mad as he +was, his first thought was for the dogs. "Get a wet rag +round the muzzles o' Dingo an' Jackaroo 'fore you let +'em inter this 'ell 'ole," he growled between sneezes. +"Our bloke's somew'ere in this 'ere 'ouse," he went on, +laving his smarting eyes at the water-tap of the sink +above Suey's jack-knifed form. "Don't let 'im slope +by the front door, Chief, now we've got 'im in 'is 'ole."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Sloped already," snapped Harpool laconically, adding +that most of the sloping had been done while Rawdon +was setting his dogs on a "bally Chink cook." In a +few terse sentences the Chief explained the way things +stood, giving it as his opinion that their man would be +trying to follow the stream right across the plantation +and down through the belt of bush to the mangrove +swamps. The loss of the big black-and-tan was so great +a calamity for the old bushranger that it had the effect +of sobering rather than further exciting him. His red +rage burned white and flamed inwardly rather than outwardly. +"I'll know 'ow to even up for 'im killin' +Starlight w'en I gets that bloody wombat in a patch o' +dry bush. Nice bit o' a torch that greasy 'ulk o' 'im'll +make. Come along! We'll 'ave a better chance o' makin' +a quick bag if we get 'im in sight 'fore the rain +starts."</p> + +<p class="indent">There were still left two dogs with undamaged +"noses." Fearful that these, if they took the bridle-path +down the right side of the creek, might pick up +Ranga's trail where he would have left the stream at the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page244" id="page244"></a>[pg 244]</span> +pool, I made bold to suggest a plan calculated to carry +them wide of that danger point. "Why don't you +ford here," I said, "and push straight across the plantation +to the end of the big loop the stream makes round +the nigger village? Your man will be all of an hour +making that point if he wades by the stream. You can +make it through the cane in twenty minutes and be waiting +there to bag him."</p> + +<p class="indent">The Chief was inclined to favour the plan—until +Rawdon cut in sarcastically with: "An' wot's to pervent +the bloody bloke's givin' us the slip a 'undred +times 'tween 'ere an' there? One hound down each side +o' the stream—that's the only way to be sure o' clappin' +our 'ooks inter 'im."</p> + +<p class="indent">That was sound reasoning of course—from Rawdon's +standpoint,—and I didn't dare urge my plan any further. +Ten minutes later, when a sudden eager baying +came down the wind from the direction of the waterfall, +I felt sure my worst fears were realized. It was, therefore, +with only the faintest hopes of success, that I pulled +myself together to take the first step in making good my +promise to pick up Ranga at the pier of the old sugar +mill.</p> + +<p class="indent">The priceless Suey had crawled out from under the +sink as the sounds of the hunt grew faint, and turned +to tidying the kitchen as though cleaning up after a pack +of bloodhounds was just a pleasant little incidental of +the day's work. When I ordered him to get me out a +fresh bottle of absinthe he did not even forget the +cracked ice. I told him I should probably be away for +most of the night, and that if Rona showed up in the +interim to see that she was made comfortable till my return. +"All lightee girl-ee. Otha fell-ee too much peppa +can have," he said decisively. I told him to do what he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page245" id="page245"></a>[pg 245]</span> +liked to Rawdon, but to give the Chief a shake-down if +he asked for it.</p> + +<p class="indent">Quaffing a couple of glasses of raw absinthe, I filled +a flask, pulled on a pair of riding-boots and a raincoat, +and pushed out onto the veranda. The wind had not +increased greatly in force, but the lightning and thunder +were flashing and crashing almost simultaneously overhead, +and the first big drops of rain were beginning to +spatter. The moon was hidden behind a dense pall of +black cloud, so that it was by the incessant flicker of the +lightning that I sized up the three saddle-horses tied at +the side of the driveway and picked the rangy waler of +the Chief as the likeliest rough-weather beast. I had no +compunction to taking him, as the bunch would be breaking +away anyhow as soon as the sagging bottom of the +cloud overhead dropped its contents on them. I preferred +not to have my own saddle-horse left standing in +the town if it could be avoided. There would be enough +tell-tale posts on the course I was going to try to negotiate +without deliberately planting another one.</p> + +<p class="indent">The cane fields in the valley were glistening with the +opening volleys of the rain as I spurred across the clearing, +stabbing the night with silver gleams in the lightning +flashes as the bayonets of massed troops throw off +the rays of the sun. The wind was behind me as far as +the main road; then side-on, but broken by the wall of +the thick-growing trees. I put the waler at top speed, +anxious to cover all the distance possible while the footing +was good. I was halfway to town before the storm +let go in real earnest, and from then on it was about as +much of a swim as a ride, especially after the hillsides +began to spill off on the lower levels. My mount was a +sensible beast, evidently no stranger to tropical cloudbursts. +He took the initiative readily when I ceased +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page246" id="page246"></a>[pg 246]</span> +to urge him, and kept plugging right on through the +storm at a good steady business-like jog. Nothing but +my good fortune in getting a jump on the rain prevented +my going out in this first lap of my race, as all +of the four bridges I had to cross must have washed +away within a very few minutes from the time I put +them behind me. Indeed, one of the two horses I had +left in the driveway, after both had broken away as I +had anticipated, was drowned in trying to flounder +through an open crossing.</p> + +<p class="indent">The worst of the terrific downpour was over as I rode +into the town, but the wind—as was to be expected—was +blowing with increased force. Everyone had been +driven indoors by the rain, so that it was in an empty +street I dismounted and left my horse, knowing that he +would be pawing at his own stable door within a very +few minutes. The rest of the way to the landing I +covered on foot. As I had feared, the creek was empty +of launches. I would have to see what could be done +at the Burns, Phillip offices, which, busy with manifests +and other odds and ends of business incident to an imminent +steamer sailing, were still lighted up. It was an +alternative I was very reluctant to resort to, as I had +been hoping that my visit to Captain Tancred might be +managed on the quiet. Just as I turned to go a red light, +bobbing past the outer end of the jetty, caught the tail +of my eye, and, on the off chance that it might be a craft +I could hire, I held on at the steps. Smartly handled +in the nasty cross-lop, a small but powerful steam launch +bumped in alongside the landing stage.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Can I get you to take me off to the <i>Mambare</i>?" I +demanded of the uniformed youth who came bounding +up the steps.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Glad to do it, sir. This is her launch," was the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page247" id="page247"></a>[pg 247]</span> +cheery reply. "Just in for clearance papers. Be back +in a jiffy. Climb aboard and make yourself comfy in the +cabin." Then, as an apparent afterthought: "You're +sailing with us, aren't you? Can't take off visitors at +this hour. No way to get back. Getting under way at +midnight." He had so little doubt that I was a belated +passenger, perhaps delayed by the rain, that my +nod was quite sufficient to reassure him. Five minutes +later we were shoving off for the run back to the line +of lights where the <i>Mambare</i> tugged at her moorings.</p> + +<p class="indent">The sea was white with foam outside the jetties, but +with waves and wind almost dead astern the sturdy little +launch made very comfortable weather of it. It was +by no means as bad as it had been coming in, said the +young officer, who turned out to be a freight clerk. As +the gangway was already raised and the launch had to +come in anyway, we remained aboard her and were +hoisted right up and swung in to the chocks on the +<i>Mambare's</i> boat-deck. My companion hurried at once to +his office to go over his pouch of papers, while I, locating +it without asking anyone for directions, went forward +to the Captain's cabin under the bridge.</p> + +<p class="indent">The faint shadow of constraint on Captain Tancred's +face as I entered disappeared the instant his ready mind +divined I had come to him for help. "So they're after +ye at last, lad," he said, sympathy and satisfaction +queerly blended in his deep voice. "Weel, noo, tell me +a' aboot it. I ken we'll be findin' a way oot for +ye."</p> + +<p class="indent">I told him all that he needed to know as quickly as +possible, making a point, however, of omitting to state +that the man I wanted him to smuggle away to the +Islands had confessed to committing the outrage upon +Hartley Allen. "Slant" was an old friend of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page248" id="page248"></a>[pg 248]</span> +"Choppy's," and I felt sure that the latter, far from +being a witting party to helping the man who had attacked +him escape from justice, would undoubtedly lend +every aid to placing him where he would receive his just +deserts. Luckily, the quixotic old Scot was not a man +to ask searching questions. He was plainly disappointed +that it was not I who was fleeing the law, but there was +ready consolation in the fact that a friend of mine, in +very sore straits, might be saved from being torn to +pieces by a pack of bloodhounds if he was picked up at +a certain point on the north coast before morning.</p> + +<p class="indent">We located the cove of the old sugar mill on the chart +without difficulty, and in his bulky volume of "Sailing +Directions" found the comforting assurance that it afforded +especially good shelter in a northerly blow. +There was no surf, it was stated, and the shore was almost +steep-to. This was all in our favour. He was sailing +at midnight, the Captain said. The hurricane was central +over the New Hebrides, so it was only the tail of it +flirting across the Great Barrier—nothing he would +dream of sticking in harbour for. Doubtless he would be +able to find an excuse to heave-to off the cove, while I +piloted the launch in to get our man. Then, if I didn't +care to return and take a pleasure voyage with him to Insulinde +and the Straits, I could drop off and make the +best of my way home.</p> + +<p class="indent">The Captain had just finished telling me how he had +made a point of bringing his old launch crew with him +from the <i>Utupua</i>—"the lads I use for speshul wark, +ye ken"—when the freight clerk who had brought me +off entered the cabin with a number of papers and letters. +On the top of the pile was a red envelope marked +"Rush." "Choppy" tore the letter open at once. The +up-flop of his grizzled side-burns at the sudden flexing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page249" id="page249"></a>[pg 249]</span> +of the jaw muscles at their roots gave me warning of +the coming jolt.</p> + +<p class="indent">"We'll nae be gettin' under wa' the nicht, Ryerson," +he said quietly to the freight clerk. "Will ye be sae +guid as to bid the Chief an' the Mate to step this wa'. +Mair carga the morrow," he added by way of explanation. +To the Chief Engineer, when he came, the Captain +merely countermanded an order for steam on the capstan +at seven bells, and warned him to keep the pressure +in the boilers high for fear the steamer might part a +mooring cable if the wind increased. The Mate he +ordered to be ready to handle a consignment of silver +bullion and ingot copper that would come in a tug from +the <i>Moresby</i> as soon as she arrived from the south in the +morning. He also told him to have the crew of the +steam launch called away at once, so as to put "yon +gentleman" ashore as quickly as possible. If the Mate +was lively about it, "Choppy" suggested, he might find +that the fires of the launch had not yet been drawn from +her trip to the landing. If so, that would save time in +getting up steam.</p> + +<p class="indent">Not until all of this was ordered did he turn to me +with: "The de'il's ain luck, lad. Nae gettin' awa' afore +eight bells, noon, the morrow. Shipment frae Broken +Hill catchin' up wi' us in the <i>Moresby</i>."</p> + +<p class="indent">"That means that the game's up and you're sending +me back because there's no hope of doing anything?" I +asked in dismay.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Nae, nae, lad," he soothed. "No' so fast. Just a +wee bit o' a shift o' program, that's a'. True I'm sendin' +ye ashore in the launch, but when she comes back +I'm hopin' tae find oor mon in yer place. Do ye ken +noo wha' I'm drivin' at?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Do you mean to send the launch all the way round +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page250" id="page250"></a>[pg 250]</span> +from here?" I demanded in astonishment; "and then to +keep him aboard here in the harbour for ten or twelve +hours before you sail? Isn't that asking for trouble +both ways? Even if the launch stands up against the +gale outside, aren't you done for if they come off from +town and make a search of the steamer?"</p> + +<p class="indent">Old "Choppy's" blue eyes twinkled merrily at the +latter suggestion. The police never did seem to have any +luck in searching his ships, he laughed. As for the +launch—it was new, its engine was unusually powerful, +and it would have "Pisco" at the wheel. "Pisco," he +explained, was a Chilean who had been with him for +years, and had never been known to fail at a pinch. He +thought that combination ought to win out. I didn't +mind a bit of slap-banging off the point, did I? That +settled it. If he was willing to risk his own launch and +his own career to save <i>my</i> friend, it was not for me to +hang back. Fifteen minutes later we had been lowered +over the side and were rounding under the <i>Mambare's</i> +fine clipper bows into the teeth of the gusty norther. It +had been agreed that I should pilot "Pisco" to the +rendezvous and deliver my man into his care. +"Choppy" undertook to do the rest.</p> + +<p class="indent">What the hard-bit old sea-dog had characterized as a +"bit o' slap-banging" off the point proved to be a frontal +attack upon as ruffianly a bunch of headseas as it was +ever my lot to face in anything smaller than a ninety-ton +schooner. Stoutly built and over-engined as she was, the +launch was quite equal to the task of driving her nose +through the waves, but—not being built for submarine +service—proved a dismal failure at getting rid of the +solid green water that deluged her as a consequence. +Knot by knot, cursing fluently in picturesque <i>roto</i> Spanish +the while, "Pisco" rang down the engine, until +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page251" id="page251"></a>[pg 251]</span> +finally the pugnacious little craft ceased tunnelling the +bases of the seas and contented herself with boring neat +round holes in their curling crests. By this method she +shipped no more water than her scuppers could put +back where it came from. The only fear now was that +enough spray might splash down her squat funnel to +quench the fires, and to minimize the chances of this, the +resourceful "Pisco" made the lookout stand so that his +broad chest would receive and deflect the heaviest rushes +of the threatening flood. Fortunately, the distance to be +run head-on to the seas was comparatively short. Once +round the point the alteration of course brought the +wind and the waves on the starboard beam, and though +she now just about rolled her side-lights under, it was +fairly quiet going compared to the buffeting outside.</p> + +<p class="indent">I gave "Pisco" his course for the first leg in by the +lights of the big sugar central, and then, as we opened up +the inner bay, gave him a bearing on the notch—barely +guessable against the overcast west—where the old cartroad +grade pierced the brow of the cliff. The clouds +were racing overhead and the baffling cross-gusts on the +surface would have made it bad business for a sailing +craft. But for a launch the task was a comparatively +simple one. The loom of the old mill was discernible +against the darker opacity of the cliff at a couple of hundred +yards, and the right-angling lines of the pier at +half that distance. As the latter was sure to have been +built of the eternally-lasting <i>jarra</i>, I knew that it would +be as solid and serviceable as the day it was abandoned.</p> + +<p class="indent">I had not thought it best to risk dampening Captain +Tancred's enthusiasm by confessing that I thought it +was a good ten-to-one against my man's turning up at +the rendezvous. Indeed, I could see no grounds whatever +for hoping that Ranga had shaken the pursuit—already +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page252" id="page252"></a>[pg 252]</span> +at his heels—and won through to the appointed +place. Nothing short of a miracle could have compassed +it, I told myself. It was on the off chance that the +miracle had been wrought that I was keeping my promise.</p> + +<p class="indent">"'Bout half a point to sta'boa'd, Tuan. Way nuf now! +Steady!" That deep rumbling voice from the darkness +was a welcome surprise. "Pisco," heeding the quiet directions, +brought his launch alongside the broad solid +flight of steps as neatly as he would have laid her up to +the <i>Mambare's</i> gangway in broad daylight.</p> + +<p class="indent">Ranga was coming down the steps—with a slowness +which I attributed to the fact that they were probably very +slippery—when I heard a thud on the deck behind me, +such a sound as a heavy, soft bundle thrown down from +above might have made in striking. A second or two +later there was an ejaculation of astonishment somewhere +aft, probably from "Pisco," I thought, as the +words were Spanish. I did not try to puzzle out the purport +of them at the moment, as my attention was occupied +with Ranga, who seemed to be hesitating at the last +moment about coming aboard. Twice or thrice he drew +back his foot from the rail, as though uncertain of his +balance. And when the great bulk of him finally did +surge forward, it was with a lurch that took all my +strength to check it and prevent his reeling on across the +narrow bow and over the other side. He steadied himself +slowly, with a great intake of breath. "Sorry—make +trouble,—Tuan. Now—I go aft."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I am leaving you here, Ranga," I said quickly, for +I was getting nervous about a movement of lights I had +observed along the flume in the rear of the big sugar +mill. "Captain Tancred will look after you on the +steamer, and put you off wherever you want to go. He +also has some money for you. Good luck!"</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page253" id="page253"></a>[pg 253]</span> +The big fellow took a long shuddering breath, and +when he spoke it was as though he had rallied himself +from a spell of faintness by sheer force of will. "Some +day, Tuan—I pay you back—for all you do. So long." +He turned with painful deliberation and started to edge +along aft. I was a bit surprised that he had not grasped +my extended hand, but could not be sure that he had +been aware of it in the dark. It did not occur to me +until afterwards that he had not used his own hands on +the rail of the stairway in descending, and that he had +seemed to shoulder his way back to the cockpit rather +than to grope. I waited until his swaying shoulders +ceased to blot the blinking of the phosphorescent seas +astern, and then swung off to the stairs.</p> + +<p class="indent">"All clear!" I called softly to "Pisco," as I felt the +solid step underfoot. "Shove off when you're ready. +<i>Buena fortuna!</i>"</p> + +<p class="indent">It was doubtless "Pisco's" ejaculation in Spanish a +few moments before, lurking in the back of my mind, +that prompted me to speed the spirited coxswain in his +own tongue. On the heels of that "<i>Buena fortuna!</i>" +the words he had spoken flashed up in my memory. +"<i>Cristo! Porqué la muchacha?</i>" It could hardly have +been a sarcastic dig at Ranga's hesitancy in stepping +aboard, I reflected as I mounted the slippery—astonishingly +slippery—steps. He would not have expressed it +quite that way in that case. A sudden slip in a slimy +patch at the head of the steps put an end to conjecture +for the moment, and when I regained my feet the answer +was written across the cabin doorway of the turning +launch. The lamp inside had—purposely—been turned +very low, and the blurred silhouette of the figure that +came groping out to where Ranga had collapsed on a +cockpit transom might easily have been that of any one +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page254" id="page254"></a>[pg 254]</span> +of old "Choppy's" true and tried launch crew. But +wet amber silk reflects a deal of light, and there was only +one peacock shawl in the world—or in that neck of the +world at least.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page255" id="page255"></a>[pg 255]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVII<br /> +<small>DOWN THE FLUME</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">The</span> lights had disappeared from the flume as I +turned to go, and, rather than take the chance of +another fall, I decided to use my small electric +torch in finding a solid footing. The lacquered crimson +reflection of the fluttering disc of light instantly revealed +the cause of the slipperiness I had encountered. The +whole end of the pier was criss-crossed with thick trails +of blood, with great spreading pools here and there where, +whoever shed it, had stood or sat. The blood on my +hands and raincoat, where they had come in contact with +Ranga's reeling frame, proved beyond a doubt that he +was badly hurt. That explained his unsteadiness on his +feet, and also the fact that he had avoided shaking hands +with me. Very likely, indeed, his hands were unfit to +use. Tired to the verge of exhaustion though I was, my +blood leaped at the thought of the battle royal the splendid +fellow must have fought—and won. I was expecting +to come upon traces of the fight at any moment as I +picked my way in past the ruined mill to the foot of the +old grade leading to the top of the cliff.</p> + +<p class="indent">As I left the planking of the pier behind two sets of +footprints appeared in the wet, firm earth of the path at +the side of the road. Both were made by bare feet, but +the larger ones—plainly Ranga's—were broken and irregular, +and saturated with blood. There could be no +doubt that his feet, like his hands, were frightfully +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page256" id="page256"></a>[pg 256]</span> +torn. The small prints pressed very close to the side of +the large, indicating that Rona was either supporting the +wounded giant or being supported by him. From the +fact that the smaller impressions were deeply indented, I +figured that the former was the case—that she was helping +him. The girl, evidently, was not badly hurt—perhaps +not at all.</p> + +<p class="indent">Where the path I was following joined the bridle-road +at the brink of the cliff, the trail of blood turned off down +the foot of the flume toward the big sugar mill. The +battle royal must have been fought somewhere in the +depths of the dense tropical growth that filled the rocky +fissure in the cliff followed by the flume. What grim +secret the black hole held would have to wait for the +coming day to reveal. My way home led in the opposite +direction, and there was some question in my mind +as to whether or not I had the strength for the full +course.</p> + +<p class="indent">Fortunately for me the flume had been built along +ridges and high ground, so that the trail following it had +not been exposed to heavy flooding in the torrential rains +of the early evening. I found it hard and firm underfoot +for the most part, and by no means hard to follow +without resorting to my electric torch. It would have +been very easy going had I not been so nearly all in, +but even as it was, by using my absinthe sparingly as +I had done while painting, I managed to keep plugging +steadily on toward home.</p> + +<p class="indent">At one time something very near a panic seized me for +a while, when the thought flashed through my mind that +the great quantity of Ranga's blood soaked up by my +boots and my clothes would undoubtedly leave a trail +that Rawdon's hounds, should they chance to nose into +it, would be quite justified in mistaking for that of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page257" id="page257"></a>[pg 257]</span> +Malay himself. Even if I succeeded in holding the beasts +off with my revolver, my presence there, and in such a +state, would call for a lot of explaining. If the Chief +once became suspicious, I told myself, it would undoubtedly +upset my plans to get Ranga away, to say +nothing of involving both myself and Captain Tancred +in a serious scrape. I was in a miserable state of funk +until the cheering thought entered my head that Ranga +had probably killed not only the dogs, but probably +Rawdon and the Chief as well. That reflection reassured +me immensely, and, buoyed in mind and body, I trudged +on confidently to the foot of the waterfall.</p> + +<p class="indent">I had noticed from time to time along the way that +the flume, in its less inclined stretches, was overflowing +its sides. The reason for this became evident when I +reached the intake, at the side of the pool under the falls, +where I discovered that the gate, usually only partly +raised, was wide open. A flow of more than double the +normal was rushing out of the rain-swollen stream and +into the flume.</p> + +<p class="indent">I was too tired to speculate upon how this might have +happened. It was touch-and-go with my tottering knees +all the way up the steep, slippery path to the top of the +cliff; but, with three or four breathing spells and the +last of my absinthe, I managed it, and came out at last +upon the greensward rimming the bathing-pool under +my bedroom window. It was comparatively quiet here, +now that the roar of the falls was deadened by distance, +which was doubtless the reason that I heard for the +first time a racket from the other side of the plantation +that must have been going on right along. It was rather +a lucky thing that I <i>did</i> hear that noise before I turned +in. Had I not done so, it is hardly likely that it would +have occurred to me that it might be a wise precaution to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page258" id="page258"></a>[pg 258]</span> +remove my boots before entering the house, and then +to strip off and burn carefully in the kitchen range everything +that I had been wearing. It was all I could do to +keep awake until the irksome job was over, but, since +it was evident from the ki-yi-ing and cursing that was +floating down the wind that Ranga had not made a +clean sweep of Rawdon and his pack, I reckoned that +it well might be the means of preventing unpleasant +complications.</p> + +<p class="indent">My arduous climb up from the old sugar mill had +served a useful purpose in one respect. The hard physical +exercise had sweated the poison of the absinthe out +of my system and relaxed the near-to-breaking tension +my nerves had been under for thirty-six hours. I fell +into a good normal hard-workingman's sleep the moment +the mosquito-net closed behind me. And the best +of it was that, when a pandemonium outside awakened +me a little after sun-up, I tumbled out upon my feet in +full possession of all my faculties. This was a mighty +fortunate circumstance, for the rather delicate situation +with which I was confronted called for something better +on my shoulders than the usual "absinthe-holdover" +head.</p> + +<p class="indent">Harpool and Rawdon, it appeared, had experienced a +beastly night. Losing a hot scent that had been picked +up at the foot of the waterfall immediately after leaving +the bungalow, they had been forced to take refuge in +one of the labour villages during the deluge. Dragged +out by the bloodthirsty Rawdon before the rain had +ceased to fall, they had spent the night "working" the +fringes of the bush in the hope of stumbling upon the +trail of the elusive fugitive. The net result of this was +the drowning of two more hounds and the driving of the +baffled bushranger to the verge of distraction. Returning, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page259" id="page259"></a>[pg 259]</span> +dead beat, in the early dawn, they had encountered, +at the intake of the flume, a scent so strong that even +the paprika-dosed noses of Suey's victims followed it +readily. Swarming up the cliff in full cry, the hunt +came on to whirl in a mad war dance round the bungalow +and put a period to my morning slumbers.</p> + +<p class="indent">The maniacal Rawdon was the worst difficulty, and +I honestly believe that only the Chief's restraining presence +saved me from the necessity of winging him with a +revolver bullet to prevent his setting fire to the bungalow. +That "bloody wombat" had dodged him once from that +shack and he wasn't going to take chances on its happening +again. The Chief and I finally induced him to +leave his "ring of death" intact round the bungalow +and come in and search for himself. That gave me a +chance for a quiet word with Harpool, whom I did not +want to have push on to town for fear he would start a +search that might extend to the <i>Mambare</i>. Indeed, he +admitted he was afraid that his man might have doubled +back to Townsville and got off to the Singapore boat, +which had doubtless sailed at midnight. He had lost a +badly-wanted counterfeiter a fortnight ago that way. +The skippers never seemed very keen to co-operate in a +search of their ships. Too many little smuggling games +of their own probably.</p> + +<p class="indent">I suggested to Harpool that he have a bath, a change +of clothes—my togs were about his size—and a snack of +early breakfast. Afterwards—since his horse was gone—I +would drive him down in my trap. In the meantime +he could ring up the Police Station and give any +orders he thought desirable by 'phone. (This latter suggestion +I made in full knowledge of the fact that the +line must be down for over a mile. I had seen myself +where uprooted trees were responsible for wide hiatuses.) +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page260" id="page260"></a>[pg 260]</span> +If it was in any way possible without arousing his suspicions, +it was my intention to detain Harpool until I +was sure the <i>Mambare</i> had sailed.</p> + +<p class="indent">The Chief fell in with my suggestion readily, and felt +so much bucked up after a bath and a couple of whiskies-and-soda +that he did not appear seriously upset when +the telephone turned an irresponsive ear to him. Like the +straightforward gentleman he was, he accepted at once +my assurance that Ranga had not entered the house again, +and took no hand in Rawdon's wild scrimmages, which +carried him from cellar to garret with no other result +than the brushing of a bit more of the bloom off "Honeymoon +Bungalow" with the soles of his hobnailed boots. +Madder than ever after his vain search, he surlily refused +my invitation to remain for a cup of the coffee +that his Chink friend of the night before was already +preparing in the kitchen, and slogged off down the +road, followed by three draggled hounds and two cursing +helpers. I was a good deal cheered by the thought that +it was unlikely that any of them would be getting +through to town, without swimming, for another twelve +hours at least.</p> + +<p class="indent">Before he left Rawdon turned over to the Chief the +little piece of red rag he had been using to put the dogs +on the scent with. It was at this time that Harpool told +me of "Squid" Saunders' suggestion, and of the visit +to the schooner in search of a clue. I did not tell him +that I recognized the rag as one which Ranga had used to +wrap his little Malay flute in, and that it had undoubtedly +been left there the morning the big fellow +helped carry Hartley Allen to the quarantine launch. +It was interesting, however, to know that Ranga was +absolutely guiltless of the outrage to which he had +confessed. I thought I could just conceive how a well-guarded +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page261" id="page261"></a>[pg 261]</span> +passion for the girl might have prompted that +chivalrous attempt to shield her from suspicion; but +why had Rona herself committed the ghastly crime?—and +how? It was many months before I was to have an +answer to those questions, and they came from the lips +of the last person from whom I could have expected +them.</p> + +<p class="indent">Direct and straightforward as ever, Harpool was +visibly impressed by my suggestion that Ranga had probably +remained hidden near the fall until the pursuit had +passed, and after returning to the bungalow and finding +it dark, had retraced his steps and adopted the +desperate expedient of trying to escape the dogs by riding +down the flume. That reminded him that they had +found the gate of the intake closed when they first +reached it, and that it had occurred to him at the time +that the fugitive might have done this so that he could +walk down the bottom of the flume without risk of being +carried away by the water. This would account for the +patch of scent the hounds found at that point. The +Chief said that he was for pushing along the path by the +flume, but that Rawdon scouted his theory, insisting that +their man had jumped back into the water and gone on +wading downstream. The hound-master had carried his +point, but, to be on the safe side, they had ratcheted up +the gate to its full aperture and turned a stream down +the flume heavy enough, he was afraid, almost to carry +the sugar mill into the sea. And that reminded me +(though, obviously, I could not speak of it) that I had +not heard the roar of the mill's machinery when I paused +at the brow of the cliff. There was no doubt it was hung +up for some reason. Was it possible that Ranga had +made his escape after coasting right down into the +crushing gear? But of course not. He would never have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page262" id="page262"></a>[pg 262]</span> +been able to get away unpursued, even if he had survived.</p> + +<p class="indent">I welcomed for two reasons Harpool's suggestion that +we ride down the flume and investigate as soon as breakfast +was over. It would keep him away from town until +the <i>Mambare</i> had sailed for one thing, and, for another, +it would give me a chance to fathom the mystery that +lay at the end of that trail of blood leading down into +the rift in the cliff. It seemed probable to me that both +Rona and Ranga, after the former had overtaken him—probably +at the foot of the fall—had started down the +flume on foot. Whether there would be any indications +of what had befallen when the water overtook them +remained to be seen.</p> + +<p class="indent">The gate was still wide open when we rode along beside +the intake, but halfway down to the coast we met +a man from the mill who said that he was going up to +shut the flow off so that a break near the lower end +could be repaired. The wires were down from the storm, +he said, making it impossible to 'phone directions to the +plantation office. The break was a bit of a mystery, he +added. Flume opened right out. There were indications +that some large animal—perhaps a bullock—had +been carried down—probably washed in at the upper end +while the stream was at flood. Funny part of it was, +though, that there was no trace to be found of the bullock +below the break. Must have been washed right on +into the sea.</p> + +<p class="indent">Harpool pushed on eagerly after hearing that significant +piece of news, and we reached the head of the first +steep pitch at the top of the cliff some minutes before +the water had ceased to flow. As I did not care to have +the Chief discover the trail of blood leading down to +the sea for a while yet, I proposed that we tie our horses +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page263" id="page263"></a>[pg 263]</span> +here and walk down the top of the flume on a narrow +board that evidently had been placed there for the use +of workmen when repairs were necessary. It proved +ticklish going—both on account of the incline and the +elevation,—but nothing to trouble seriously a man with +a sure foot and a steady head. Harpool, who was up +first, led the way, I following closely.</p> + +<p class="indent">If the power of the flying bolt of water in the bottom +of the flume had been impressive on the occasion of my +first visit, it was a vast deal more so now, both on account +of the greatly increased volume of flow and because of +my certain knowledge that a human being—perhaps two +of them—had gone down that chute, where I had been +assured that a team of bullocks could not hold a man—and +survived.</p> + +<p class="indent">The foot-wide board on which we were walking was +nailed to the left side of the flume. The top of the +right side was a rough line of unplaned two-inch pine +planks. Harpool had only taken a step or two when he +brought up short with an exclamation of surprise and +horror. "Look at that top board on the other side!" +he shouted; "raw, red meat all the way from here right +out of sight round the bend at the bottom!"</p> + +<p class="indent">I looked, shuddered, shuffled my feet uncertainly, and +brought my staring eyes back to the precarious footing. +"Push on!" I implored quaveringly; "my head's +beginning to swim as it is."</p> + +<p class="indent">The roar of violently falling water came to my ears +as we rounded the bend at the lower end of the steep +incline, and just ahead was the break. The whole right +or seaward side of the flume had opened out and the +flood was pouring to the rocks below in a spreading +forty-feet-high cataract. The ghastly smear along the top +ran on unbroken, right out to the end of a loose plank, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page264" id="page264"></a>[pg 264]</span> +which was kicking spasmodically under the impulse of +the released stream of water shooting under it. The +Chief, pointing to a ragged fragment of bloody cuticle, +wedged in a joint of the line of boards on which we were +standing, delivered himself of what I believe was his only +approximately correct diagnosis of any feature of the +whole affair.</p> + +<p class="indent">"The fact that piece of skin and toe-nail were torn +off on this side of the flume directly opposite the bulge," +he said, "would seem to indicate that the brake our man +made of his right arm flung over the top plank of the +other side must have finally brought him to a stop here. +Then he must have doubled up crosswise of the flume, +with his feet against the place where that skin is torn +off and his back against the end of that plank that is +sprung loose. When he straightened out that great rack +of bone and muscle of his something had to give way, and +it seems to have been the flume. Probably the force of +the water, where his body deflected it against the side, +was of some help; but it must have come jolly near to +staving in his ribs where it drove into him at right +angles."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Perhaps it did," I said. "We can't tell till we find +him." I was not anxious to hurry up the search by +any means; but I felt that it would be better to move +on to a place where I could grow dizzy without the risk +of plunging forty feet onto a pile of broken rocks. The +Chief, with ready consideration, hastened forward, and +my faintness passed quickly when I felt the solid floor of +the crushing level of the mill beneath my feet.</p> + +<p class="indent">It appeared that they had knocked off early the previous +evening for want of cane. At the time, the superintendent +said, he thought the flume had been carried +away by flood water. He had only evolved the bullock +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page265" id="page265"></a>[pg 265]</span> +theory when he went out at daylight and found the +blood and meat smeared along the planks. The bullock +must have got wedged in finally, he thought, and the +water had piled up behind it and sprung out the side. +They had not found the carcass yet, but, as there was +a very sharp slope down to an in-reaching neck of the +cove, it was not impossible that the rush of water had +rolled it right on into the sea. Neither Harpool nor myself +thought it worth while to ask him if he had found +any bullock's hair among the "meat."</p> + +<p class="indent">Going down through the silent mill to reach a lower +level before doubling back to the foot of the flume, a +weird sort of sputtery peeping caught my ear while we +were traversing the boiling-room. Something vaguely +familiar in the sound caused me to trace it to its source +behind one of the big vats. The <i>virtuoso</i> proved to be +a lanky Australian sugar-boiler, whiling away the idle +hour blowing across the holes in a queer little bamboo +flute. One of the blacks had found it in the last run of +the <i>bagasse</i>—the crushed cane—a while ago, he explained. +Someone must have dropped it in the flume. +Funny thing that it had been so slightly crushed in +coming through the rollers. He gave it to me readily +when I told him that I was a collector of primitive +musical instruments. Said he had a much better one—made +in Germany and all bound with brass—in his home +in Maryborough. I took it on the off chance that I might +some day be able to give it back to Ranga. I knew how +greatly he was attached to it, and, since flutes like that +were only made in one little pile-built village on the coast +of Ambon, how hard a time he would have to replace it.</p> + +<p class="indent">I played up the superintendent's "washed-into-the-sea" +theory for the Chief's benefit as long as I could, +but finally he circled round and hit the double trail of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page266" id="page266"></a>[pg 266]</span> +footprints that led down to the end of the old pier. The +idea that Ranga had ridden the flume alone was so firmly +rooted in his mind however, that he agreed at once with +my suggestion that the smaller prints must have been +made by an idle boy from the hung-up mill, who had +perhaps trailed the blood on his own account, in the hope +of getting the bullock meat. As I myself had made a +point of keeping on the grass to the side of the path, my +trail of the night was not discovered.</p> + +<p class="indent">"The poor devil must have thrown himself over here +and been finished by the sharks and 'gators," Harpool +shouted up to me from where, at the foot of the +steps of the old pier, he stood beside the black-filmed pool +that had drained from Ranga's wounds as he steadied +himself for a few moments before lurching over to the +bow of the launch. The Chief also said something more +about coming back with a boat next day and searching +the beach for anything that might remain. I didn't +follow him very closely, for, just at that moment, a trim +clipper bow slid out past the end of the southern point. +Knowing a certain old brass-cylindered spy-glass would +be training landward from the bridge that followed, I +opened and closed my arms swiftly in a surreptitious +wave of farewell. Good old "Choppy" must have been +standing very close to the whistle-cord, for his reply +came instantly. The wind carried the toots that must +have sprung from the heart of two woolly steam-puffs in +the opposite direction, but I caught the message just the +same. "All's well!" was what old "Choppy" signalled +in answer to my wave. His "puff-puff" talk was a deal +easier to understand than his English.</p> + +<p class="indent">I was no longer in Australia when the <i>Mambare</i> returned +from her maiden voyage to Singapore, so her skipper's +report came to me in Paris by letter. He had put +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page267" id="page267"></a>[pg 267]</span> +both of my friends ashore in Macassar, he said, safe, +sound and comfortably heeled for "siller." He had become +much attached to both of them in the course of +the voyage, and couldn't thank me enough for putting +him in the way of giving them a bit of a lift. He trusted +I wouldn't fail to command him whenever another opportunity +of the kind presented itself.</p> + +<p class="indent">The night that I sent Rona and Ranga off from the +pier of the old sugar mill in the <i>Mambare's</i> launch +marked the beginning of one of the strangest and most +picturesque friendships the Islands ever knew; picturesque +in the striking background the strongest and +most terribly-scarred man in the South Pacific made for +the hauntingly appealing beauty of the most interesting +woman, and strange—more than passing strange—in +that there was none who could say that their relations +were ever other than those of mistress and servant.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page268" id="page268"></a>[pg 268]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> +<small>THE MASTERPIECE</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">The</span> third day after the <i>Mambare</i> sailed found me +southbound for Sydney, with Paris as my ultimate +objective. The thought that a striking—possibly +a great—picture might be painted about the face I had +already done came to me the first time I threw back the +veiling rug and encountered poor Allen's terror-haunted +eyes staring back into my own. In deciding to finish the +work in Paris I missed whatever chance I might have had +of doing something really worth while. That I did +finally complete a picture that was striking, arresting—something +to set the tongues of the art world wagging +for many a day—was due to the effort I had already +made—The Face.</p> + +<p class="indent">With small chance of being able to do anything for +Hartley Allen—at that time believed to be permanently +insane,—there was no reason for my remaining longer +in Townsville. As nothing that the good Chief of Police +had learned—or ever did learn, so far as I know—was +calculated to connect me with his failure to run Ranga +to earth, he, naturally made no objection to my leaving. +The whole affair was a complete mystery to him. The +disappearance of Rona was rated only as a minor mystery. +The amusing part of it was that it never occurred +to the dear man to connect the two. The last thing that +I fixed my glass upon as my southbound boat steamed +out of the harbour was a confused mass of wreckage, +blurring darkly against the mangroves a few miles north +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page269" id="page269"></a>[pg 269]</span> +of the town. It was all that the late storm had left of +the grounded labour schooner, <i>Cora Andrews</i>.</p> + +<p class="indent">Missing the P. & O. boat by twenty-four hours at Melbourne—too +late to overtake it by train to Adelaide,—I +found the next sailing was a <i>Messageries Maritime</i> +steamer. Rather than wait a week for the next Orient +liner, I booked for the French boat. This was all against +my better judgment, especially in the light of the fact +that I had work ahead. The one most effective influence +I had known in keeping my use of absinthe at a point +where it was not entirely beyond my control was the +scathing if unspoken contempt of men of my own race +for another of that race addicted to the insidious Latin +habit. The nearest thing to a clean break-away I had +ever made up to this time came after a stony-faced +Cockney steward on a transatlantic Cunarder, who had +put my whisky-drunken cabin-mate to bed one night as +a matter of course, slammed the door with a snort when +he surprised me pouring absinthe into cracked ice the +following afternoon. In France, in French colonies, on +French steamers—wherever the tri-colour flapped, in +short—that restraining contempt was non-existent. +There one found palliation, indulgence, even encouragement. +That was the reason I had always become so +abject a slave of the "Green Lady" during my sojourns +in Paris, in Algiers, in Saigon, in Noumea. With no +one to remind me of my shame, I forgot it, sinking ever +lower and lower the while. This time, it had been my +plan so to occupy myself with work on my picture in +Paris that I should be able to keep my absinthe appetite +just about where I had managed to hold it during the +last six months in Kai and Australia. It is quite possible +I might have kept to this program had I caught the +P. & O. from Melbourne, or had the sense to wait for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page270" id="page270"></a>[pg 270]</span> +another British boat. As it was, five weeks of <i>dolce far +niente</i> were too much for me. By the time we reached +Suez, I was seeing so green that the desert banks of the +Canal looked like verdant lawns to me, and at Marseilles +they took me straight from the ship to the hospital, pretty +well all in mentally and physically. As my case presented +some interesting complications of malaria and +tropical anaemia, the doctors took a good deal of interest +in it. Under the circumstances, I was dead lucky to get +out of their hands at the end of a month.</p> + +<p class="indent">Thoroughly disgusted with the world in general and +myself in particular on the day I was discharged from +the hospital, it was a toss-up for a few hours as to +whether I should jump out for the Islands by the first +boat, or push on to Paris. That I finally plumped for the +latter was due more to the fact that there was no east-bound +sailing for a couple of days, than to any faith +that remained in my ability to get on with the picture. +Considering all this, it seems to me that the effort I +finally did pull myself together for was fairly creditable +in its results.</p> + +<p class="indent">It was The Face itself—after I had unpacked and set +up the canvas in a studio that a former friend kindly +placed at my disposal—that was responsible for finally +jolting me into action. Even at the end of ten weeks, +Hartley Allen's tortured features seemed as real to me +as on the night I had finished transferring them from +my burning brain to the canvas. It struck me then—as +it seemed to strike the public later—as the nearest +thing to flesh and blood ever flicked off the tip of an +artist's brush; and I felt that I had only to daub in some +kind of an <i>ensemble</i> around it to have a work that would +at least give Parisian art circles something to talk about +for a while.</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page271" id="page271"></a>[pg 271]</span> +It seemed to me that the most effective thing to do +would be to make Allen, lashed to the schooner's wheel, +the central and dominating figure on the canvas, and to +have the other figures the creatures of his imagination—the +phantoms conjured up by his reeling brain. These +would include Bell, Rona, Ranga and a background of +plague-stricken niggers. It was not to be—as we had +planned the "Black-birder"—an attempt to portray some +incident of the voyage. The "phantoms" were to be +done in greys and blues, filmy and indistinct, to differentiate +them from the solider flesh of the maniac tied +to the wheel. It was not an uneffective conception, had +I been up to carrying it out—which I wasn't.</p> + +<p class="indent">By a remarkable coincidence, as I have already mentioned, +The Face was in exactly the right place to fit +into the <i>ensemble</i> I had planned. This was a good omen +and I derived no little encouragement from it. Fearful +of the effect that terror-stricken gaze might have +upon my models, I stuck an opaque square of paper over +the distorted features, with the intention of leaving it +there until the rest of the picture was finished. This +was a wise precaution, as the sequel proved.</p> + +<p class="indent">The model whom I chanced to secure to pose for Allen's +figure was an especially fortunate choice. He had +recently finished spending six or eight hours a day +lashed to a hollow canvas cross in connection with a +mural decoration at some cathedral—Sacré Cœur, I believe +it was,—so he stood up rather well under the +strain being triced to the property steering-gear I had +contrived to borrow from the <i>Folies-Bergère</i>, where the +"marine" <i>revue</i> in which it had figured was just over. +Considering the fact that I had never done anything but +seascapes and was notably weak in anatomy, my work +on this figure was far from being as bad as might have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page272" id="page272"></a>[pg 272]</span> +been expected. It was not seriously out of drawing, and, +even with The Face covered up, one was conscious of an +unmistakable suggestion of agony in the tensely-strained +limbs and back-drawn torso. From the artistic side, I +would undoubtedly have done better to have trimmed +down my canvas and limited the picture to this single +figure. This, however, never occurred to me until a +long time afterwards. At the moment, my mind was +quite incapable of running away from the track on +which I had started it.</p> + +<p class="indent">Although I knew that one of the things that must +have been in Hartley Allen's mind was Bell's face, as he +had described it to me—pain-twisted, with the lower lip +bitten clean through, and a bar of light from the cracked +binnacle slashing across it,—I could not bring myself +to attempt to dramatize the sufferings of my friend. +(Indeed, even at that time I had a guilty feeling that I +was not doing the decent thing in using that of Allen +in a picture to be exhibited to the public.) All that I +did in Bell's case, therefore, was a back view of a huddled +figure, sitting on the rail of the cockpit, with a +half-empty whisky bottle rolling on the deck behind. +It was not destined to draw much attention or comment +one way or the other, for which I was duly thankful.</p> + +<p class="indent">Ranga, as a consequence of being unable to find a +model that would do him justice, I finally omitted. Rona +came near to elimination for a similar reason, but in +her case fortune, in the end, was more kind. It may be +remembered that there was a so-called Hindu dancer +leading the Oriental ballets at the <i>Comique</i> about this +time. She was really an Eurasian half-caste—the daughter +of a British "Tommy" and a Mahratta girl, born in +Poona. With little of Rona's beauty of face and winsomeness +of manner, she was still possessed of the same +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page273" id="page273"></a>[pg 273]</span> +flaming temperament and a figure that might have been +poured from the same mould. It was the lithe, sinewy, +serpentine shape of her that caught my eye when I +chanced to drop in at the <i>Comique</i> for a matinée of +<i>Marouf</i>, and (as she was still a few strokes short of the +crest of the wave of popularity on which she rode for the +next season or two), I had little difficulty in persuading +her to give me a few sittings. She insisted she was doing +it for art's sake, but it was really vanity that brought her +into line. Also, as transpired shortly, she had a very +sharp weather eye for the main chance. In any event, +the picture proved both her immediate making and her +ultimate undoing. The advertising she got out of the +fact that her living, breathing likeness had been painted +into the most talked-about picture at the spring <i>Salon</i> +of the <i>Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts</i> doubled and +trebled her salary several times in the course of the next +year. But it was also a reproduction of that same picture +in a Vienna art journal that was directly responsible +for luring to Paris the young Serbian ex-prince who +chopped the girl to pieces with a curved Arabian scimitar—a +part of her dancing toggery—as she was dressing to +go on at a gala night of <i>Aïda</i>.</p> + +<p class="indent">It had been my original intention to paint Rona issuing +from the companionway, just as Allen had seen her +rush out on the morning Bell died. This, however, was +far from meeting with the approval of Keeora (that was +what she called herself at the time; it was only in her +hey-day that she was known as Kismeta), who insisted +upon breaking in full length or not at all. I was so +sodden with absinthe by this time, so sick of the whole +job, so anxious to get quit of it for good, that I raised no +objections. The flighty thing proposed a sort of near-aerial +posture on the deck-house that was something like +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page274" id="page274"></a>[pg 274]</span> +a cross between the wing-footed Mercury and one of +Puck's getaways in Midsummer Night's Dream. Rather +than lose the girl outright, I let her have her own way. +Steadied by two or three convenient guy-wires and +puffing contentedly at one of my hemp-doped cigarettes, +she held her painful pose with a fortitude truly Oriental. +I can see yet the queer little heart-shaped pucker that +dented the muscle-knotted calf of her leg when she swung +up to the tips of her toes.</p> + +<p class="indent">I fancy it must have been a certain appeal the audacious +minx made to my physical senses that prodded +on my flagging energies. Everything that was left in +me I devoted to making her absurd conception effective +on its own account. To make it so as an integral part +of the picture was, of course, out of the question. It is +still a matter of a good deal of wonder to me that I +succeeded as well as I did. The pirouetting figure on +the <i>Cora's</i> deck-house might just as well have symbolized +<i>Peter Pan</i>, or <i>The Spirit of Spring</i>, as <i>Rona Rampant</i>; +but the fact remained that it was exceedingly pleasing +to the eye. In this connection I thought an American +tourist—from somewhere south of the Mason-Dixon Line +by his accent—expressed himself rather well. I overheard +the remark on my first and only visit to the <i>Salon</i>. +"If that little filly doan leave off kickin' up so neah them +buck niggahs," he drawled, "things ah suah fixin' fo' a +lynchin' pa'ty. By cracky, if she doan look good enuf +to eat!"</p> + +<p class="indent">It was "them big buck niggahs" that were responsible +for bringing my labours to a sudden end. I had managed +to round up a half-dozen hulking Senegambians +from the docks at Havre to pose for my plague-stricken +Solomon Islanders, and for the first two or three days +things went very well. I was striving for a sort of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page275" id="page275"></a>[pg 275]</span> +Doré-esque effect, by painting a tangled bunch of blacks +writhing in the half-light of the shadowed waist of the +schooner. The lazy brutes found lolling round on the +studio floor a deal more congenial work than humping +cotton bales, and I was getting on very encouragingly +considering my wretched condition, when one of the +prying rascals, taking advantage of a moment when my +back was turned, turned down a corner of the patch that +hid the face of the man lashed to the wheel. What +damage was wrought was inflicted on such flimsy furniture +as chanced to be in a direct line of flight from the +"models' throne" to the door. Fortunately, the canvas +was well to one side. The Senegalese, it seems, have a +raw, red terror of the "Evil Eye."</p> + +<p class="indent">That little episode brought to an end my work with +models. I simply blocked in my plague-stricken blacks +in a rough sort of way and let it go at that. The effect +was hardly as crude as one would think. The remark of +the Southern gentleman I have quoted proved that a man +not unfamiliar with niggers could at least distinguish of +what the tangle in the waist was intended to be made up.</p> + +<p class="indent">I have definite recollection of only one further occasion +on which I tried to work. The interval in which +I had anything approximating command of my normal +faculties had dwindled to a half-hour or so in the afternoon, +and I quickly found that I was utterly unable to +concentrate my mind sufficiently for connected effort +even then. On the occasion I have mentioned, I knocked +off dead after discovering that I was trying to decorate +Keeora's brow with the wreath of maiden's hair fern that +had crowned the aviating "Green Lady" in her flight of +the night before. I chucked in my hand complete after +that, and had the whole monkey-show packed off to +the Selection Committee. As might have been expected, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page276" id="page276"></a>[pg 276]</span> +the picture nearly caused a riot in that temperamental +bunch of "pickers," but, in the end, The Face won the +day with them, just as it did with the public.</p> + +<p class="indent">Of the furore created by "<i>Hell's Hatches</i>" in the +<i>Salon</i> it will hardly be necessary for me to write. Most +of the excitement it stirred up was traceable to the haunting +horror of the face of the wretch tied to the wheel; the +rest was due to its name, which only suggested itself to +me at the last moment. Perhaps the fact that everyone +was baffled from the outset in trying to discover the +<i>motif</i> of the bizarre thing also contributed to the impulse +of the whirlpool of morbid curiosity with which it was +engulfed. And who could blame them for failing to +discover any connection between a tied-up maniac, a +hunched-up drunkard, a kicking-up dancer and a bunch +of tangled-up niggers? The avalanche of surmises would +have been highly diverting had not my sense of humour +already fallen a victim to the apathy that was rapidly +settling upon my mind and body.</p> + +<p class="indent">My outstanding recollection of the whole affair is of a +highly effective by-play staged by that keen little publicist, +Keeora, who had become a bit piqued over the +slowness of the Press to broadcast the identity of the +lady dancing on the deck-house. Utterly indifferent, I +had avoided the <i>Grand Palais</i> not only on the opening +day of the <i>Salon</i>, but also during the week that followed, +when it was reported that the <i>Avenue Alexander III</i> was +at times blocked with the throngs striving to get within +sight of the most intriguing picture shown in years. +My telephone was disconnected; telegrams and letters by +the stacks lay unopened; a pile of newspapers were +unread. Growing more sullen and sodden day by day, I +had eyes for nothing but the green bottle at my elbow +and the constantly replenished glass of cracked ice by +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page277" id="page277"></a>[pg 277]</span> +its side. All the rest of the world was one soft, verdant +tunnel—nothing else. I had been drinking steadily for +days, afraid to face the reaction that must inevitably +follow the first break in the continuity of the flow of +the life-saving trickle of green.</p> + +<p class="indent">In a way, I suppose, it is Keeora I have to thank for +the fact that, when I finally left my room in the <i>Continental</i>, +it was to be headed for the <i>Grand Palais</i> instead +of to <i>La Morgue</i>. I am quite convinced that nothing +short of the violent eruption of hysteria that soulful +lady brought off outside my door would have induced me +to open it, and probably no one else in Paris could have +been equal to just that kind of an outburst. In passionate +French-Cockney, Keeora told how, after failing +for days to reach me by 'phone and telegraph, she had at +last come in person to bear me to the <i>Salon</i> to share with +her our common triumph. That didn't move me greatly, +but when she swore that she was going to stay until she +"jolly well croaked, G'bly'me," unless I let her in, something +inside of my head snapped and I gave way. (I +always was like that with hysterical women.) When I +opened the door I discovered that she was dressed in +some Mogul princess sort of a rigout, and accompanied by +an Italian <i>Marchesa</i> and two or three lesser satellites. +Between them and my valet they got me dressed and +down to a waiting carriage.</p> + +<p class="indent">To get away from the mob at the main entrance, they +took me around to the <i>Avenue d'Antin</i> side of the <i>Grand +Palais</i>, where Keeora pointed out with glee that the <i>Salon</i> +of the <i>Société des Artistes Français</i>, which had opened a +week or two previous to that of the <i>Beaux-Arts</i> outfit, +was almost deserted. "<i>Et tout, mon cher Monseer W'itney, +por raison de—de la grand success de 'Aykootillys +don fur.'</i>"</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page278" id="page278"></a>[pg 278]</span> +"And what might they be?" I asked dully, rather +fancying some new sort of epidemic had broken out.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Madame means to say '<i>Ecoutilles d'Enfer</i>,'" began +the <i>Marchesa</i> politely; "eet—eet ees—"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Eat your bloomin' 'at!" cut in the lady impatiently, +indignant that anyone could be so stupid as to have her +Parisian interpreted to him. "Don't you twig me, old +cock? That's wot them French Jo'nnys calls 'Ell's +'Atches."</p> + +<p class="indent">The picture was extremely well hung, both for position +and light; though whether this had come about as a +consequence of a reshuffle after it had turned out to be +the main drawing card, I did not learn. There was a +roped-off area in front of it, and through this a number +of perspiring attendants were feeding the crowd, working +hard with tongue and hand to keep the chattering +line in motion. Keeora called my attention to a woman +who had fainted and was being carried out on a stretcher. +"Bowls 'em over just like that right along," she giggled. +"Six of 'em squealed and keeled back just w'ile I was +'angin' on 'ere yustidy. But it ain't <i>me</i> wot gets 'em," +she hastened to explain; "it's that crazy bloke at the +w'eel, wiv 'is bloomin' eyes borin' right through your +chest an' raspin' up an' down your spine. Don't see +wot you wanted to put <i>'im</i> in for any'ow."</p> + +<p class="indent">At a word from Keeora's sedulous satellites, the attendants +opened up a line through the mob and cleared +a space in front of the picture. Then, assuring herself +with a critically comprehensive glance that the setting +was all correct, she rushed in, threw her arms around +my neck, kissed me smackingly on both cheeks, French-fashion, +and began declaiming in her best Parisio-Whitechapel +how I had earned her undying gratitude +and affection (<i>mon amours eternel</i>) in making her the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page279" id="page279"></a>[pg 279]</span> +central figure in the greatest work of art of modern +times. It was all extremely well done—from Keeora's +standpoint, that is. She had a solid phalanx of reporters +massed in the background, as a consequence of which, +after the next morning, there was no chance for anyone +to remain longer in ignorance of the fact that the nymph +hot-footing around the coamings of "Hell's Hatches" +was Keeora of the <i>Comique</i>. The following Saturday the +management came round voluntarily to her hotel with +a new contract worth several thousand francs a week to +their rising <i>danseuse orientale</i>.</p> + +<p class="indent">For myself, groggy in head and knees as I was, the +experience was rather trying. Breaking away from her +stranglehold at the first opportunity, I told Keeora to +keep her "eternel amours" for those who wanted them, +and bolted. There was some pretence at pursuit, but, +with the real magnet drawing in the other direction, I +finally managed to elbow clear. Hailing a cab in the +<i>Champs-Elysées</i>, I returned to my hotel.</p> + +<p class="indent">But the interruption, as I have said, was a fortunate +one. It checked my downward slide dangerously near +the point where a crash was due. I was far from being +out of the woods yet, but the interval of comparative +lucidity had given me enough courage to try to pull up. +Unloading all the firearms I had about my suite and +giving them to my man, I told him to go away for the +night and not to return until noon of the following day. +Then, as restrainedly as I could, I drank during the +first three or four hours of the evening, before allowing +myself to go to sleep. The crisis—the dread reaction I +had feared to face—I knew would come on awakening +in the morning. It arrived on schedule—two hours of +teetering on the edge of hell and cursing myself for putting +the guns beyond my reach. Even with the <i>absintheteur's</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page280" id="page280"></a>[pg 280]</span> +<i>notorious</i> dread of cold steel, I fingered +Hartley Allen's Portuguese throwing-knife a long time +before mustering up the courage to drop it out of the +street window. That gave me a new idea, and I held +lengthy debate with myself about following the knife to +the pavement. If I had been on the fourth floor instead +of the second, I might have tried it. As it was, fifteen +feet to a glass marquee didn't look good enough. But at +last I won through—just. It was a sorry looking figure +that shivered back at me from the mirror after I had got +up my nerve to ring for a pot of black coffee at seven; +but I was off the toboggan, at any rate, with my face set +unflinchingly toward the one place in the world where I +felt there was at least a fighting chance for me to pull +up again. I had arrived at the end of the day of which +I had dreamed so long—"My Day," I had called it. +Paris had come fawning to my feet—and brought me +Dead Sea Fruit. I was going back to work out my own +salvation in the Islands.</p> + +<p class="indent">I had a rather trying time of it, getting packed up +and away on such short notice; but I simply did what +I could and let the rest go. Putting Paris behind me was +the thing. It took all that was in me to do it, but I +caught the Brindisi Express from the P.L.M. station that +night.</p> + +<p class="indent">My last act before leaving the hotel was to sign a +paper brought there by a well-known art dealer, with +whom I had talked by 'phone earlier in the day. It +authorized him to sell to the highest bidder a painting +in oil known by the name of "Hell's Hatches," delivery +to be made immediately after the closing of the spring +<i>Salon</i> of the <i>Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts</i>. It also +provided that he should receive a liberal commission for +his services. It must have been something like a month +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page281" id="page281"></a>[pg 281]</span> +later that he collected ten per cent. on three hundred +thousand <i>francs</i> less about five hundred paid some +second-rate artist for executing a slight alteration in +one of the figures. It was a petty Sultan from Morocco +(high card with Keeora at the moment) to whom the picture +was knocked down after a spirited run of bidding +with an Irish distiller and a Chicago soap-maker. The +buyer's only condition was that the man lashed to the +wheel should be changed to a <i>burnoused</i> Arab. That would +tend to give the picture an atmosphere more in keeping +with his desert palace, he said; also, he wanted the +<i>efrangi's</i> face covered up. The eyes made him jumpy.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page282" id="page282"></a>[pg 282]</span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIX<br /> +<small>AFTER ALL</small></h2> + +<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">I had</span> not planned by what route I should go to the +South Seas, and it was only because an Orient-Pacific +liner chanced to be the most convenient connection +at Brindisi that I went by Australia instead of by India +and Singapore. I was rather glad, on the whole, that I +was going to have an opportunity to learn something at +first-hand of Hartley Allen—or, Sir Hartley, as he had +become since I left Australia. That much I had been +able to gather from an item I had read in <i>The Times</i> +shortly after my arrival in Paris. This stated that Sir +James Allen, Bart., Agent in London for New South +Wales, had just died of pneumonia. Being without male +issue, it was understood that the title would pass to his +younger brother, formerly a well-known racing man, +and more recently in the public eye through his heroic +action in navigating a labour schooner full of plague-stricken +blacks through the Great Barrier Reef to +Queensland.</p> + +<p class="indent">Nothing was said in the local item of the outrage +aboard the <i>Cora Andrews</i>, but the day following a +dispatch from Sydney stated that Sir Hartley Allen was +recovering his health and strength at a sanitarium in the +interior, from which, however, it was not expected that +he would be in a condition to be discharged for several +months. The shock to his nervous system from the mysterious +attack upon him in Townsville three months +previously had been so great that only time could obliterate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page283" id="page283"></a>[pg 283]</span> +the traces of it. He had not yet been allowed to +see any of his old friends, but the correspondent affirmed +on good authority that Sir Hartley's reason, so long +despaired of, had been fully regained.</p> + +<p class="indent">From the fact that the attack was still spoken of as +"mysterious," I took it that Allen, for some reason of +his own, had refrained from revealing the identity of +the person who had left him to die lashed to the wheel +of the <i>Cora</i>. What that reason might be, was one of the +things I hoped to learn when I should see him in Australia.</p> + +<p class="indent">Hartley Allen was still in a sanitarium in the Blue +Mountains, I learned on my arrival in Sydney, but of +late there had been little news of him. He was believed +to be getting stronger, slowly but surely, though no hope +was held out that he would appear in the saddle again +for at least another season. It was unlikely that I would +be permitted to see him, but there would be no harm +in trying. I should, of course, communicate with his +physicians, not with Allen himself.</p> + +<p class="indent">By a lucky chance, in wiring the head of the institution +where Allen was under treatment, I stated that I +was a former friend of his from the Islands. A reply +arrived the same day, telling me to come on at my earliest +convenience. The eminent nerve specialist in charge of +the case drove down to meet me at the train. It was +very fortunate indeed, he said, that I had mentioned +in my telegram that I had known Sir Hartley during his +residence in Melanesia. He had failed, very stupidly, +to recognize my name as that of the famous artist who +was about to paint Sir Hartley's picture when the attack +upon him occurred. As a consequence, he was about to +wire a refusal to my application, when he recalled that +news from the Islands was the one thing in which his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page284" id="page284"></a>[pg 284]</span> +patient had shown any great interest. Accordingly, +he had asked Sir Hartley himself if he cared to see a +certain Roger Whitney, lately arrived in Sydney. The +eager interest manifested by his patient was the most +encouraging symptom the latter had shown since his +mind had cleared. If I would carefully refrain from +introducing any subject calculated to excite Sir Hartley +nervously, he was confident that my visit would be productive +of nothing but good. It was even possible, +should it prove convenient to me, that he would want me +to remain for several days. Sir Hartley was quite +sound in brain and body. What he needed was increased +vigour of both, and to this end he would have to develop +a greater interest in living than he had yet +shown. It was just possible there was something on his +mind....</p> + +<p class="indent">After leaving my coat and bag in the reception-room, +the doctor led me out across a bright solarium. We +would find Sir Hartley out of doors, he said, probably +playing polo. He seemed to hate the very thought of +having a roof over him, even to sleep under. It was a +strange sight that met my eyes as we came round the +corner of the veranda. In the shade of a grove of blue-gums +and stringy-barks a wooden horse had been erected, +saddled with a light pigskin, and provided with snaffle +and curb reins running back from the angling bit of +board that served as "head." Astride the saddle, in +the famous short-stirruped "Slant" Allen seat, booted, +spurred, and in immaculate whites, slashing smartly at +grass-stained and dented bamboo-root balls that were +alternately tossed in and chivied by a pair of bare-footed +youngsters, was a familiar figure. Save for the +white hair (which I had already seen) and the absence +of the former coat of tan, he did not, from a distance, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page285" id="page285"></a>[pg 285]</span> +appear greatly changed. It was not until his eyes met +mine at close range that I was conscious of the weary +listlessness which, like a bed of ashes, smothered the +coals of his old fire.</p> + +<p class="indent">Allen had just poked away the first of two successively +thrown balls in a sweet-running dribble, and +sliced off the other in a sharp-angling "belly cross," +when he raised his eyes and caught sight of the doctor +and me coming down the steps. Swinging a bit uncertainly +out of the saddle, he came toddling in a swaying +childlike trot across the grass. His grip was firmer than +I had expected, and the thought flashed through my +mind that this was the very first time I had ever shaken +hands with him.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I've been wondering when you were going to turn up, +Whitney," he exclaimed eagerly. "There's something +I've been waiting to talk to you about." He spoke in +generalities while the doctor lingered, saying that he +had given up his old idea of returning to the Islands, +and that, instead, he was hoping to get away before long +to a back-blocks station he owned and ride the boundaries +for a year or two. But when the specialist, evidently +assured that his experiment was getting under way +properly, quietly excused himself, Allen led me over to +the wooden horse and launched at once into a subject +which had doubtless occupied his mind for many days. +From ancient habit he leaned, as he spoke, now on the +hollow pigskin of his "pony," now on the flexible Malacca +handle of his polo mallet.</p> + +<p class="indent">"You're the only man in the world I can talk to about +this now, Whitney," he said with a queer new quaver of +weakness in his voice. "I suppose that's because you're +the only person I ever talked to about it—before. I take +it, Whitney, that you had no great difficulty in making +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page286" id="page286"></a>[pg 286]</span> +up your mind as to who was responsible for—for my +night of contemplation on the <i>Cora</i>?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Well," I began evasively, "I had such grave doubts +about Ranga's guilt that I went to some little trouble +to get him away. Mostly old 'Choppy' Tancred's work, +though."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Good old 'Choppy'!" said Allen with an appreciative +grin; "on hand at the right time as usual." Then, +with serious interest: "But the girl—how did she manage +to get clear?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Just turned up and helped herself to a place in the +launch I was sending Ranga off in," I replied, a bit +worried at my failure to lead the conversation away from +subjects "calculated to excite Sir Hartley nervously."</p> + +<p class="indent">"And you were also convinced of <i>her</i> innocence, I +suppose," he said, eyeing me with a strange smile across +the leather-bound handle of his mallet.</p> + +<p class="indent">"On the contrary," I answered; "I knew that she was +guilty. I had taken your throwing-knife away from her +the same night. I knew that Ranga was quite innocent, +even though the police, through a silly ball-up, +tracked him down with their dogs."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Then why did you let the girl go?" he pressed.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Because I thought I knew Rona well enough," I replied +evenly, "to feel sure that she wouldn't have done—what +she did, unless she was convinced in her own mind +that she had a good reason for it." It was a stiff jolt +for a sick man, that; yet, for the life of me, I couldn't +have made an evasive answer.</p> + +<p class="indent">But there was a smile of untold relief on Allen's face +as he leaned over and laid his hand on my arm. "You +were right, Whitney," he said in a voice that trembled +with the depth of its fervour. "You were right. She +<i>did</i> have good reason. I ought to have seen it all along."</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page287" id="page287"></a>[pg 287]</span> +"I don't quite understand," I said, greatly puzzled. +"Do you mean that all you told me about your—your +having nothing to do with Bell's death was not true?"</p> + +<p class="indent">"Not at all," he replied, with unexpected vigour. +"Everything that I told you that afternoon at the <i>Australia</i> +was true—according to my understanding of the +moment, I mean. But later my understanding broadened +a bit, you must know. A chap doesn't spend a night +tied up alone with the spirits of three or four white +men, and Gawd knows how many blacks, without coming +to comprehend some things that have eluded him before. +I didn't go all the way off my chump till well along +toward morning, you see; and I was broadening my +understanding all the time."</p> + +<p class="indent">"I was never able to make out," I remarked somewhat +irrelevantly, "how the girl managed to get the best +of you the way she did."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Oh, that," he said lightly, in a voice that indicated +he rated it as a negligible incidental to the "broader +understanding" that had come to him as a consequence. +"Well, I suppose you have a right to know if you are +interested in that phase of the affair. I simply got +tired of holding out against the girl, that was all. Her +relentlessness wore me down. It was not long after our +return to Townsville that I realized that her picture +stunt was only a blind. She counted on it to get me +away to the schooner, where she could finish me off on +the scene of—of my offence. I won't need to tell you +that hit me jolly hard. Training out Yusuf and making +a clean-up for Doc Oakes' mission with him helped +while it lasted; but I gave up as soon as that was over +and there was nothing to do but wait and brood. Since +I knew she'd have her way in the end, I told myself that +the sooner it was over the better. That was the reason +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page288" id="page288"></a>[pg 288]</span> +I finally consented to go off to the schooner with her when +she waylaid me on the north road, the day after I paid +you my last visit.</p> + +<p class="indent">"She must have planned the whole thing in advance +for the place at which she intercepted me was at the +point where the road ran nearest to the wreck of the +<i>Cora</i>. As it was low tide, we were able to walk on the +sand to within fifty yards of the heeling hulk. Careless +of consequences as I was, I readily enough consented +to her suggestion that I wade the remainder of the way, +carrying her in my arms. For the rest, it was more or +less of repetition of her little coup at Kai. She pinched +the knife from my belt while I was wading out with her, +keeping it carefully out of sight while we were walking +round the deck of the schooner. I missed it presently, +but thought it had fallen from its sheath while I was +clambering over the side. Leaning over to look for the +knife in the water, I felt the point of it on my neck. +Same old place—just over the jugular. Trick she +learned from the Malays.</p> + +<p class="indent">"I told her to hurry up and get the job over. She +coolly replied that this wasn't the place she had had in +mind for it, and would I mind coming aft to the cockpit? +Confident that she knew how to do the thing with +decency and dispatch, and heartily glad to get life's fitful +dream over anyhow, I went. Just like a lamb to the +slaughter, Whitney. It sounds foolish, but I assure you +that's just the way it happened. The idea was so fixed +in my mind that a plain every-day throat-cutting was all +she was figuring on, that I let her get three or four +hitches of the log-line around my shoulders before it +occurred to me that she might have a few refinements in +pickle. I started to put up a fight at that, trying to +force her to use the knife straightaway. Do you think +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page289" id="page289"></a>[pg 289]</span> +she would do it? No fear. She wouldn't deviate from +her set program by a hair. Rather than risk having +the joint jolted into my jugular so that I would bleed +to death quickly and painlessly, she dropped the knife +and used both hands on the log-line. We had a hell of a +tussle, Whitney, but she wore me down. Those three or +four well-thrown hitches she had to start with were +too much of a handicap.</p> + +<p class="indent">"When she finally had me bound fast, she sat down +on the rail of the cockpit to recover her breath. I tried +to argue with her, pointing out the certainty that I +would be seen and rescued in the morning if she left me +as I was; whereas, if she would cut my throat then and +there, it would finish things for good and all. I also +reminded her that dead men tell no tales; that she would +be much less likely to get into trouble herself if there +was no one to bear witness against her. (Fancy a man +having to rack his brain for arguments like that, just to +get his throat cut, Whitney.) The girl admitted the +soundness of my contentions, but declared she was willing +to run all the extra risk for the sake of cleaning up +the job 'good an' propa.' (One of Bell's expressions, +that, wasn't it?)</p> + +<p class="indent">"Then—I must have begun losing my nerve a bit, I +think—I told her I had never yet been able to twig why +she had a grudge against me at all; said I'd only done +for Bell what I'd be jolly glad to have another man do +for me under similar circumstances, and probably a lot +more twaddle along the same line. She listened for a +while, as though she rather enjoyed hearing me rattle on +in that vein. Then she got up and disappeared down the +half-open companionway. When she came back on deck +she had an empty whisky bottle in her hand, probably +one of a stack left in my cabin. This, with some effort +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page290" id="page290"></a>[pg 290]</span> +on her part and much to my further discomfort, she +wriggled under the lashings about my chest until she +seemed satisfied it was held securely. Then, binding a +filthy gag of oakum in my mouth, she stood off and +looked me over critically. 'I the-enk you will twe-ig +ver-ee much pu-retty soon, Mista "Slan',"' she finally +chirruped with a knowing nod of her head. Without +once looking back, she stepped to the side, jumped over, +and waded ashore. I never saw her again—in the flesh, +I mean. It took a deal of squirming to shake that bottle +out. The satisfaction of hearing it break when it hit the +deck was the only comforting thing that happened in +the whole night."</p> + +<p class="indent">"And you say that you understand why she did it?—that +you believe she was justified?" I exclaimed incredulously, +shuddering at the horror of a cold-blooded +cruelty that even Allen's deliberately matter-of-fact recital +could not obscure.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Most assuredly," he replied with an enigmatic smile. +"I'm just a bit surprised that you don't see it yourself, +Whitney. It seems to me that a chap like you ought +not to miss a point like that. But then, you haven't had +a night alone on the <i>Cora Andrews</i> to broaden your +understanding like I have."</p> + +<p class="indent">"What was it?" I asked bluntly, completely mystified +and not a little awed.</p> + +<p class="indent">"Just this," he answered, growing suddenly serious. +"That bottle I shoved along to Bell the night he died had +been partly emptied—by me, of course. Well, the first +thought that entered the girl's head, when she came +across it on the deck near his body, was that he had been +drinking from it. In spite of all my assurances to the +contrary, it seems that she was never able to rid her +mind of that idea. That was—"</p> + +<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page291" id="page291"></a>[pg 291]</span> +"But couldn't she see <i>why</i> you offered him the +whisky?" I interrupted. "What if he did drink some +of it? She must have known it was the one thing that +would have saved his life."</p> + +<p class="indent">"Ah, that is just where you miss the point, Whitney," +he cried. "And that was just where I always missed it +until—she showed me the way to a broader understanding. +Don't you see that Rona realized that keeping away +from whisky, as he had sworn he would, had come to +mean more to Bell than even a new lease on life? Well, +she did. But, even so, one would hardly have expected +her to fall in with the idea. And yet, don't her actions +prove that she even did that? Whitney, I've never come +across anything comparable to the straight physical passion +of those two for each other. And, if anything, hers +was the hotter flame of the two. There must have been +something of the impetuousness of her rages in her loving,—for.... +Well, the most maddening of all the +thoughts I tried so long to stifle in Kai was the one that +those frequent welts and abrasions appearing on Bell's +neck and cheeks and arms were not from the bites of +no-nos or mosquitoes. And yet, loving his body like that, +she loved his soul enough more to be willing to give up +the body that the soul might pass in peace. It was because +she thought I had intervened to destroy that peace +of soul, Whitney, that she—well, the effect of it was to +pave the way to my broader understanding."</p> + +<p class="center">THE END</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Woods & Sons, Ltd., Printers, London, N. 1.</span></p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<div class="tnote"> +<h2>Transcriber Notes:</h2> + +<p class="indent">Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of +the speakers. Those words were retained as-is.</p> + +<p class="indent">Errors in punctuation and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected +unless otherwise noted.</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 34, "dispayed" was replaced with "displayed".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 67, "skin-kicking" was replaced with "shin-kicking".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 74, an apostrophe was added in 'Slan'.</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 102, "Ulupua" was replaced with "Utupua".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 159, a period was added after "he was going through".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 176, "its" was replaced with "it's".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 188, a quotation mark was added before "On the off chance".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 203, "at the botton" was replaced with "at the bottom".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 205, "twentyfive" was replaced with "twenty-five".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 233, "back of the easel" was replaced with "back off the easel".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 238, "in no may" was replaced with "in no way".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 241, "ejaculted" was replaced with "ejaculated".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 246, "Marbare" was replaced with "Mambare".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 282, "firsthand" was replaced with "first-hand".</p> + +<p class="indent">On page 285, "listnessness" was replaced with "listlessness".</p> + +</div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44632 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/44632-h/images/illo_003.jpg b/44632-h/images/illo_003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..430cdc3 --- /dev/null +++ b/44632-h/images/illo_003.jpg |
