CHAPTER XXI
THE PICTURES
Austin had been gone a fortnight when Jacinta and Muriel Gascoyne satunder the lee of the _Estremedura_'s deck-house one morning, on theirway to Las Palmas. Above them the mastheads swung languidly athwart acloudless sweep of blue, and the sea frothed in white incandescenceabout the lurching hull below as the little yacht-like steamer reeledeastwards with a rainbow in the spray that whirled about her bows.Astern of her the Peak's white cone gleamed above its wrappings offleecy mist, and ahead on the far horizon Grand Canary swam a purplecloud.
Jacinta was dressed ornately in the latest English mode, and it seemedto Muriel that she had put on conventional frivolity along with herattire. Indeed, Muriel had noticed a change in her companion during thelast few days, one that was marked by outbreaks of flippancy andsomewhat ironical humour. An English naval officer leaned upon the backof her chair, and a tourist of the same nationality stood balancinghimself against the rolling with his hand on the rail that ran along thedeck-house. The latter was looking down at Macallister, who sat upon thedeck with a little box in front of him.
"I brought up the two or three sketches ye were asking for, Mr.Coulstin," he said. "The saloon's full of jabbering Spaniards, and themessroom's over hot."
The tourist screwed the glass he wore more tightly into his eye. "Ifthey're equal to the one I saw in the N.A W.A A. store I may be open tomake a purchase," he said. "I think you told me you were acquainted withthe artist, Miss Brown?"
"I believe I did," said Jacinta, who was conscious that Macallister waswatching her languidly. "You will, however, no doubt be able to judgehis pictures for yourself."
Coulston made a little humourous gesture. "I am not a painter, and Icould scarcely venture to call myself a connoisseur. Still, I buy apicture or two occasionally, and the one I mentioned rather took myfancy. A sketch or two of that kind would make a pleasant memento."
"One would fancy that a good photograph would be more reliable, as wellas cheaper," said the naval officer.
Coulston reproachfully shook his head. "I'm afraid we differ there," hesaid. "Leaving out the question of colour, a photograph is necessarilyan artificial thing. It wants life and atmosphere, and you can never putthat into a picture by a mechanical process. Only a man can feel, andtransmute his impressions into material. Accuracy of detail is, afterall, by comparison, a secondary consideration, but perhaps I had betterpull up before my hobby makes a bolt of it."
"I have heard of people riding a hobby uncomfortably hard," said Jacintareflectively.
"That, I think, is, to be accurate, seldom what happens. If a man has agenuine hobby, it never needs spurring. It is, in fact, unpleasantly aptto run away with him on the smallest provocation. Are steamboat menaddicted to making sketches, Mr. Macallister?"
"No," said Macallister, grinning. "At least its not the usual thing, butI once sailed with another of them who did. He was second engineer, andwould draw the chief one day. It was very like him, so like that itcost the man his job, and a wife as well. Says he, 'How could ye expectme to idealise a man with a mouth like yon?'"
"But how did that affect his wife?" asked the officer.
Macallister grinned more broadly, but it was Jacinta he looked at.
"Ye see," he said, "he had not got one then. He was second engineer, andwould have gone chief in a new boat if he'd stayed with that company.The young woman was ambitious, and she told him she would not marry himuntil he was promoted, on principle. He was a long while over it afterhe lost that berth, and then--also on principle--he would not marryher."
Jacinta laughed, though Muriel fancied she had seen a momentaryhardening of her face.
"She probably deserved it, though one can't help concluding that shewouldn't feel it much," she said. "That is one of the advantages ofbeing a practical person; but hadn't you better get the drawings out?"
Macallister took out a sketch in water-colour and held it up. It showeda strip of a steamer's deck, with the softened sunlight beating downthrough an awning upon a man in skipper's uniform who lay, cigar inhand, in a hammock that swung beneath the spars. He was, to judge fromhis expression, languidly contented with everything, and there was a bigglass of amber-coloured liquid on the little table beside him, and atier of bottles laid out upon the deck. Beneath it ran the legend, "Formen must work."
"That," said Jacinta, "is, at least, what they tell their wives."
The tourist gazed at the drawing, and then turned to her. He was, as shehad discovered already, a painfully didactic person.
"The conceit," he said, "is a somewhat happy one, though the sketch is,it seems to me, a little weak in technique. As we admitted, onedifference between a photograph and a painting is that the artistrecords his own sensations in the latter, and stamps it with, at least,a trace of his individuality. In that respect the sketch is, I fancy,characteristic. The artist, one could imagine, was in full sympathy withhis subject--the far niente--but I am, no doubt, getting prosy."
For no very apparent reason a little flush of colour crept intoJacinta's face, and Macallister, who saw it, chuckled as he took outanother sketch.
"Well," he said, reflectively, "I never met a man who could do nothingmore gracefully than Mr. Austin, but I'll let ye see the rest of them,since they're in my charge to sell. Mr. Austin, who wants the money,took a sudden notion he'd go to Africa, and, if they've had a quick run,he's now humping palm oil puncheons in a stranded steamer's hold. I'mthinking it will be a big change for him."
The naval officer laughed softly. "From what I know of the tropics Ifancy you are right. In fact, it's rather difficult to imagine the man Imet at the bull fight doing that kind of thing at all. Salvage work isnecessarily hard under any circumstances, and anywhere, but the lastplace I would care to attempt it in is Western Africa. Whatsent--him--there?"
"Ye must not ask me," and a little twinkle, for which Jacinta longed toshake him, crept into Macallister's eyes. "Now, there are clever folkswho will look at a man, or maybe talk to him awhile, and then label him,thinking they know just what to expect of him. It does him no greatharm, and it pleases them, until one day he does something thatastonishes them in spite of his label. Then they're apt to get angrywith him. A man, ye see, is, after all, not that unlike an engine. Yecannot tell what may be going on in the inside of him, and when theresult's distressing it's most often the fault of injudicious handling."
Jacinta, to whom he apparently directed his observations, contrived toregard him with a little smile, and he proceeded to extricate anothersketch, a canvas this time.
"This one is different," he said.
Coulston, who apparently concurred with him, gazed at the picture with atrace of astonishment. It showed a big cargo lancha lurching out,deep-loaded, through a fringe of tumbling surf with four men strainingat the ponderous oars. The wet rags they wore clung about their limbs,and there was weariness in their grim, brown faces. Bent backs and setlips had their significance, and the sketch was stamped with thesuggestion of endurance and endeavour. Yet, as those who saw it felt,there was triumph in it, too, for while the rollers came seething in tohurl her back the lancha was clawing off the shore.
"It's good!" said the navy man. "It's unusually good. Those fellows areplayed out, and they know if they slacken down for a moment she'll rollover with them or go up on the beach. The sea's running in againsther--one finds out by trying it how hard it is to pull off against asurf--but they're driving her out. Presumably, that's what you call themotive of the thing."
The tourist nodded appreciatively. "Yes," he said. "In spite of certainfaults in drawing, it's well worked out. What puzzles me is how the manwho did the other one came to feel it as he evidently did. One couldfancy he had had a revelation, and that in some respects he was adifferent man when he painted this. I'll offer you five guineas for it,Mr. Macallister."
"Then," said Macallister, promptly, "ye can have it. Eight guineas forthe two, if ye would like the other one. There are two or three more ofthem here ye mig
ht care to look at." He stopped a moment, and added, asif in explanation: "I'm anxious to do what I can for Mr. Austin. Many'sthe time I've stole his wine and sold his clothes."
He undid a package, and, first of all, took out a photograph of a younggirl with a comely English face, which Jacinta glanced at somewhatsharply. Then she became intent when there followed several rudimentarypencil and pastel sketches of herself, until Macallister handed Coulstona picture. He turned from it to Jacinta, and looked at her with asteadiness a young woman less accustomed to masculine criticism wouldprobably have found disconcerting.
She lay smiling at him in the canvas lounge, very pretty and verydainty, with conventional indifference expressed even in her pose. Shewas, he fancied, a woman who knew her world thoroughly, and had thegreater influence therein because she seldom asked too much from it.Then he glanced again at her portrait almost incredulously, for itshowed the little shapely head held well erect, the red lipsstraightened and firmly closed, and the glow of a strenuous purpose inthe eyes. Stooping, he laid the picture on her knees with a littlesmile.
Jacinta laughed softly. "Yes," she said, "of course, I know what youmean. I am essentially modern and frivolous, and not in the least likethat. Still, you see, all of us have our serious moments now and then,although it is probably fortunate they don't last long."
"Ah," said Coulston, wilfully neglecting his opportunity, "I almostfancy a light breaks in on me. One could entitle this inspiration, andit is, you know, possible to transmit it occasionally. I wonder whetherit would make the idea clearer if we placed the three picturestogether. Mr. Macallister will permit me?"
He set up the first sketch of the steamboat skipper against the lifeboatskids, and gazed at it critically. "Assuming that a picture containssomething of its painter's ego, you will observe how the idea of pettyindulgence and his appreciation of sensual comfort is impressed on one,"he said. "Now we will set up the other sketch of the sailormen. Thereyou see restraint, tense effort, abnegation--and victory--in one sense aspiritual triumph over the body. It is an interesting question how theman who painted both could have been brought to grasp what LieutenantOnslow calls the motive of the last one; but if we might venture toplace another picture between."
Jacinta raised her head sharply, and there was an ominous sparkle in hereyes. "No," she said, with quiet incisiveness, "I would sooner youdidn't. There are certainly men whose hobby, now and then, runs awaywith them. Macallister, will you put that portrait back again?"
She handed it him face downwards, for the others had not seen it, andLieutenant Onslow turned to the tourist.
"I don't quite understand, but I fancy Miss Brown doesn't approve ofvivisection any more than I do," he said. "It really isn't decent toturn anybody inside out."
"I wonder," said Coulston, ignoring him, "if you would mind my offeringto buy the three?"
He was looking steadily at her, but Jacinta contrived for a moment tocatch Macallister's eye. So swift was the flashed glance that thetourist did not notice it, but Jacinta could convey a good deal with alook, and the engineer was a man of considerable intelligence.
"That one is not for sale," he said.
"No," said Onslow, who held up a strip of pasteboard and a sheet ofbrown paper, "I scarcely think it is. In fact, you don't appear to havenoticed that there's a seal on this part of it, and instructions thatthis particular packet is not to be opened."
It seemed to Muriel that a trace of colour once more crept intoJacinta's face, but Macallister surveyed the wrappings the officerhanded him with a grin.
"It is not that difficult to slice a seal off and stick it back again,"he said. "It's also a thing Mr. Austin should have remembered. Many agarafon of wine has he seen opened."
"So you know that trick!" Onslow laughed. "I'm inclined to think it'sone that has now and then been practised upon our mess."
Just then Mrs. Hatherly appeared on deck, and the group broke up. Murieljoined her aunt, Macallister, accompanied by the tourist, went down theladder with the box of sketches under his arm, while Jacinta andLieutenant Onslow were left alone. The latter stood with his hand on thelifeboat skids, looking down on her gravely. He was a well-favouredyoung man, with an honest, sun-bronzed face.
"I am," he said, "as you know, going out to take over command of aWest-coast gunboat in a day or two, and it is more than probable that Ishall not have an opportunity like this again. You see, Nasmyth and Ihave had a very good time in these islands, and we feel that we owe itlargely to you. In fact, it's perfectly clear to us that things wouldhave been very different if you hadn't taken us under your graciousprotection. I just want to say that we recognise it, and feel grateful."
"Well," said Jacinta, reflectively, "I am rather glad you do. Gratitudethat is worth anything carries a certain sense of obligation with it."
"Of course!" and Onslow smiled. "Only give me the chance of doinganything I can for you."
"Do you know whereabouts on the West-coast the Delgado Island lies?"
"I can readily find out."
Jacinta glanced at him sharply, and had no doubt concerning theeagerness in his face. If there was anything he could do to please herit would certainly be done.
"There is a stranded steamer somewhere up a creek behind that island,and I think the men who are trying to salve her have a good manydifficulties to contend with. Among other things, I fancy the niggersare worrying them."
"Ah!" said Onslow. "Our ships are not, as a rule, permitted to take anypart in commercial ventures, but there are, of course, exceptions toeverything. According to my instructions, I am also to avoid allunpleasantness with the seaboard niggers unless they have been provokingthe authorities. Still, I would like to ask if any of the men on boardthat steamer is a friend of yours?"
"One of them is Miss Gascoyne's affianced lover, and she is a very oldfriend indeed. However, since you are apparently unable----"
Onslow checked her with a little smile. "I'm not sure you are reallywilling to let me off, and if you were, I shouldn't be pleased, while Iscarcely think you have answered my question very frankly, either. That,however, doesn't matter. It is permissible for the commander of a coastpatrol gunboat to send a pinnace in to survey a little known creek orchannel, and her crew would, of course, be guided by circumstances ifthey came upon a stranded steamer."
"I presume you would not care to earn Muriel's undying gratitude bybeing a trifle more definite?"
"No," said Onslow, with twinkling eyes. "I esteem Miss Gascoyne's goodopinion, but I really couldn't go any further to win yours. As I pointedout, one would be guided by circumstances; but men on board strandedsteamers have been supplied with drugs and provisions, as well as lentnaval artificers to advise them as to repairs. I have even heard of agunboat's launch carrying out their hawsers and anchors."
Jacinta rose with a little smile. "I think one could leave it withconfidence to your discretion, and since it seems very likely that youwill come across that steamer, I should be pleased to have your views asto the selection of a few comforts and provisions."
Onslow favoured her with them, and, as it happened, met Macallister whenat last he went down the ladder.
"Ye are going out to Africa, too?" said the latter, with a grin. "Shehas been giving ye sailing instructions?"
Onslow looked at him grimly. "Well," he said, "what the devil has thatto do with you?"
"Oh, nothing. Just nothing at all. Still, because I see ye are willing,I would have ye know that there are--two--men from Grand Canary on boardyon steamer already."
Onslow smiled a trifle drily. "My dear man, I'm not altogether an ass,"he said.
In the meanwhile Muriel strolled back towards Jacinta, and glanced ather with a suggestion of astonishment in her face as she sat down.
"You are different from what you were a little while ago," she said.
Jacinta laughed. "I daresay I am. I had, as a matter of fact, sunk intoa state of pessimistic apathy, which naturally found expression inill-humoured pleasantries lately, but I
have been getting to work again.It has rather a bracing effect, you see. In the meanwhile, it might beadvisable for you to make yourself as nice as possible to LieutenantOnslow, who is now coming up on deck again. Go and ask him to show you aflying fish, or something."
Muriel went, for she had discovered that there was usually a sufficientreason for most of what Jacinta did, and the latter lay still in herchair.
"There is," she said, "still a fly in the amber. I wonder what he wantedwith that photograph, though, after all, he didn't think it worth whilecarrying to Africa."