CHAPTER XI
A HERO'S HOMECOMING
It was two o'clock when I began powdering and screening the yellow-huedinner lining of my sea shells. Subconsciously, I must have set three inmy mind as the time my caller would come, for it was not until that hourthat 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 simplynoted that the hour had gone by without bringing my expected visitor,and went back to my work.
As a matter of fact, having just made a most gratifying discovery, I wasrather glad that the interruption had not come. I had isolated a new andwonderful colour--a dark coppery gold that I had yearned for every timeI saw sunlight filtering through brine onto the gently undulating leavesof reef-rooted kelp. Now I had it; and it was not an accident--I coulddo it again. By standing on edge a fragment of one of the big bivalves Iwas experimenting with, I discovered that a sharp blow with the side ofmy pestle caused the thinnest of chips to fly from its enamel-likelining. These, glassily translucent as they fell, when reduced in themortar gave a warm, almost glowing powder of exactly the hue I sought.Now if I could only devise a way of mixing it effectively....
So well were my innermost faculties set to respond to that expectedknock, that, when it came, not even the mazes of exultant speculation inwhich my discovery had set my brain--my outward wits--to wandering,prevented instant ganglionic reaction. I didn't have to think. That hadall been done an hour before, and the necessary orders given. At thealarm, these had only to be carried out as prearranged. My legs and armssimply obeyed the directions that had been registered for them in someconvenient little nerve-knots strung along my spinal column. Thatcarried me, stepping softly, out of the bathroom, through the bedroom,and past the middle of the sitting-room, well beyond the direct line ofvision of anyone opening the door from the hall. It was a position fromwhich I must see anyone coming in before he was able to locate me. Therest of the order--carried out simultaneously--had to do with laying thepestle lightly on the bathroom table and thrusting the hand that hadbeen wielding it deep into the right-hand pocket of my old shootingjacket.
In the second or two that it had taken me to reach the middle of thesitting-room from the bathroom, my wits had relinquished their rainbowdreams and were back on their workaday job. They it was which, now thelimit of ganglionic action had been reached, stepped in and tookcommand. It was not from nervousness that I swallowed once and flashedmy tongue across my lips before speaking. I only wanted to be sure myvoice was as firm as I knew the resolution directing it to be. Speakingsharply, but in a tone not above the ordinary, I said: "Come in, Allen!"
Among the several little surprises in store for me in the course of thenext few minutes, not the least came when the man on the other side ofthe door coughed and cleared his throat as his hand began to turn theknob. I was just telling myself that such palpable symptoms ofnervousness were very unlike "Slant" Allen to display, when the doorswung inwards and "Slant" Allen stepped into the room. Allen, but notthe Allen I had known. Absolutely nerved to readiness as I was, thecontrast of this flushed, slightly embarrassed, almost diffident youngchap and the ruthless, cold-blooded badman I had made everypreparation--physical and mental--to meet came nigh to taking me aback.It was like clambering up out of a companionway, all set for a hurricanesweeping the deck--and finding it calm. For an instant my jaw must havecome near to sagging in the amazement that swept over me. I pulledmyself together quickly, though, and if Allen noticed my momentarylapse, he gave no sign of it.
He was the first to speak. "So you were expecting me?" he said, but notas though greatly surprised.
"Ra-_ther_," I replied with emphasis. "Look at this!" and I pulled outthe revolver from my right-hand pocket, released the hair-triggeradjustment, slid the safety-catch, and laid it on the table by thewindow. I would not have been guilty of such an obvious act of bravadohad not my preternaturally acute senses told me that, so far as Allenwas concerned at least, there was not going to be any occasion to usethe weapon. That feeling persisted even when, as Allen turned slightlyin the act of closing the door, I noticed a very perceptible bulge wherethe flimsy corner of his pongee coat swept his lean right flank. Theinstant he entered the room I knew that, whatever motives had broughthim there, the intention of trying to kill me was not among them.Scarcely less strong were my doubts that I would be able to establishany valid grounds for killing him. My old sneaking liking for certainthings about the debonair rascal was not dead.
He grinned appreciatively at the sight of the gun, and then, with aperfunctory "You don't mind, do you?" stepped over and picked it up. Iwatched him without misgivings, my mind still busy adjusting itself tothe new aspect.
"Was that the toy you used the day you put a bullet hole through thecrown of my new hundred-dollar Payta hat?" he asked, fingering theexquisitely turned barrel admiringly. "My own fault, of course. I eggedyou on by expressing some doubts of your ability to do it from yourjacket pocket. This looks like ..."
"Same gun--same jacket--new pocket," I cut in laconically; adding: "Iwas prepared to repeat the operation just now--with about half a fingerless elevation on the muzzle."
It was the real old Allen grin that opened out as the significance ofthose concluding words sunk home. Not the mocking smirk which had curledhis lips so much of the time, but a good, broad, healthy grin thatbetokened genuine inward enjoyment. The fellow--I had remarked itbefore--had a really keen and inclusive sense of humour--even inclusiveenough to permit his hearty participation in a laugh that was onhimself. But that irritating sneer (which had died on his lips as a fullrealization of Bell's bigness in giving him his choice of going on the_Cora_ or remaining at Kai came to him)--that sneer, with the amusedcontempt for all the world it connoted, did not reappear. Indeed, I amnot sure that I ever saw it again. Had there been some inward change inthe man to dry up the fount of contempt from which that ironic smirkrose to his lips? I wasn't clear on that point yet: but certainly he hadbeen profoundly shaken--deeply stirred.
Save for that expansive grin of real amusement, Allen made no comment onmy implication that I had been waiting to send a bullet--a few inchesbelow the crown of his hat. "Sweetest balanced little piece of lightartillery I ever trained," he remarked inconsequentially, holding therevolver at arm's length and squinting along the sights to where hisreversed image menaced back from the depths of a full-length mirror. Hereally admired the little gun--I could see that by the way his fistclosed on the checked vulcanite grip, by the caressing touch of hisforefinger on the locked trigger.
"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 totalk about revolvers--well, who in Australia knew more about them than Idid? I continued:
"There's two or three of the Governor's own little gadgets on it, andone or two I had added myself. The one that I like best is thatsafety-catch.... Stranger can't release it till he's been shown how. Younever can tell who may be picking up a gun that's left lying around, youknow. You'll have to admit it would be doubly painful for a man to beplunked with his own revolver."
I couldn't for the life of me have refrained from that last littlesally, and Allen seemed to enjoy it as much as I did. His broadened grinshowed 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 onyou," he laughed. "Besides, you needn't fear that the significance ofthat sag in your left-hand pocket has been lost on me. Had me coveredfrom there all the time, didn't you?"
"As a matter of fact, I had," I replied, beginning to grin myself; "butthis confounded sawed-off _Mauser_ automatic has an upkick that makesanything like delicate work quite out of the question. I could wing youwith it from there, no doubt; but the job wouldn't be a prettyone--nothing that I could take any pride in."
I laid the stubby automatic on the table where the other weapon hadbeen, 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, Iadded pointedly: "... especially when I can't see any immediate useahead for it."
Either missing the point of that gentle hint, or else ignoring itcompletely, Allen went on playing with the little S. & W. Breaking itgently with practised hand, he studied with bent head the smooth, easyaction of the automatic ejector. Just a bit more of a bend, and the sixcartridges slid noiselessly forth and fell into his hand. He commencedshoving 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 floorand rolled under the table. I remarked with admiration the magnificentswell of the flexed saddle muscles as the thin _pongee_ tightened overthe bent thighs; the narrow hips, the lean, powerful back, the--
"Good God!"
The voice, hoarse with awe and surprise, was mine; but my own motherwould hardly have recognized it. For an instant my quaking knees almostlet me collapse to the floor; then my faltering inward control stiffenedand clapped the brakes on my skidding nerves. By the time Allen,startled by my sudden exclamation, straightened up from his scrambleafter the still unretrieved cartridge, I had myself fully in hand again.I could not be sure whether his flush and quick breathing were fromsurprise or the stooping posture in which he had been.
"Did you speak, Whitney?" he asked, after running his eyes over the roomand assuring himself that no one had entered. I held his eyes with myown till I was sure my voice was steadied. When I spoke, it wasdeliberately and evenly. "So Rona came back," I said.
The train of lightning mental processes by which I had arrived at thatastonishing conclusion had not much of an edge on Allen's quickcomprehension of what had started that train going. For only thebriefest instant his eyes were blank with surprise. Then, with a look ofcomplete understanding, he clapped a hand to the side of his neck andbegan smoothing straight the limp collar of his soft silk shirt. Theghost of what would have been a sheepish grin flickered up and diedaway, and to his face came something of that half-embarrassed,half-eager look that had sat upon it when he entered the room, as hesaid: "Yes, Rona has come back. That was one of the things I came to seeyou about. She--we--the both of us have a bit of a favour to ask ofyou."
Quite the master of myself now (and of the situation, too, I thought), Icame back banteringly with: "If it's that red, white and blue neck ofyours you want tied up, I have one of B. and W.'s little First Aidcases in my bag...."
It was the shockingly torn and bruised neck that had been revealed whenAllen's collar had slipped back as he stooped to recover the rollingcartridge that set my swift train of thought going. This must have beensomething of the order of it, but electrically rapid of action:Lacerated neck--old Chinaman at Ponape whose neck was scratched whenRona ran away from him--Rona a specialist in neck-scratching--probablyscratched Allen's neck (Question--Was it done in the course of one ofthe attacks she was known to have made upon him on the _Cora_?)--Couldnot have been done on the _Cora_, as they had left her over two weeksago and these half-healed scratches were not over five or six daysold.--Hence, Rona had scratched Allen's neck inside of the last week,and, therefore, could not have drowned herself in Ross Creek afortnight ago. Conclusion--Rona has come back.
It had taken not over a second or two for my quickened mind to run thatdevious course, and Allen's must have covered a good part of it in evenless time. The wits of the both of us were keenly on edge. There couldnot but have been a fine display of sparks had he been in his wontedaggressive 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."
"_For the both of us!_" The significance lurking in those words hadeluded me for a moment in the sudden adjustment my mind was called uponto make in coming to a realization of the fact that Rona--the lissomelovely Rona--was not dead--that the bright flame of her was unquenchedafter all. But: "_a favour for the both of us!_" A sudden chill checkedand throttled the thrill that had started to flood my being. "_A favourfor both of us!_" "So--Bell dead--'Slant' Allen takes the girl in theend!" I said to myself. Then, the echo of Kai's estimate of Allen'strack strategy: "An easy starter but a hell of a finisher, 'Slant'.Don't worry about what he's doing when the starting flag drops; watchhim head into the stretch." "... _head into the stretch_," I repeated tomyself. "Then what about the finish? Is he already under the wire?"
These thoughts, like the train preceding them, must have flashed throughmy mind very quickly, for it was Allen's voice replying to my badinageabout First Aid for his lacerated neck that brought me out of them.
"The neck's doing very well, thank you," he was saying, "consideringthat its windpipe was closed for all of sixty seconds, and that most ofthe hide was clawed off from it all the way round."
That was really very interesting intelligence, but my mind, deep inanother channel, was quite incapable of compassing the significance ofit for the moment.
"So you've landed the girl after all," I said woodenly, cursingmyself inwardly for the gallery play that had left both guns beyondmy reach. For of course he had deliberately put Bell out of therunning--shouldered him in the stretch.... Reviving suspicions broughtalso a realization of what it was up to me to do, now that there was nolonger doubt....
"That depends very largely upon you." Allen's quick reply cut shortfurther conjecture.
"Depends upon me?" I interrupted incredulously. "What do you mean bythat? Oh, I see. Now that you've put Bell out of the way, perhaps youthink 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 allthe distributing you can count on me for will take the form of sprayinglead over your worthless hide. You won't mind handing me one of thoseguns, will you? I don't mind which."
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. Ihave never been quite able to make up my mind as to whether it wasmy instinctive feeling that he had no such desire that prompted meto take more leeway than prudence--nay, the commonest motive ofself-preservation--would have dictated; or whether I simply lost myhead--let my feelings get away with me. It may well have been thelatter, for shocks had been crowding pretty thick, and it was hardly tobe expected that the gears of my self-control wouldn't slip a cog nowand then under the strain.
Allen's brows drew together in a black scowl for a brief space, and hiseyes contracted and grew hard as steel. Then, slowly, the scowl smoothedout, leaving only a deep flush behind it. It was not replaced by hisformer look of anxious embarrassment, however. Rather his expression wasone of a serious, controlled determination.
"That matter of my putting Captain Bell out of the way, as you choose tophrase it," he said sharply, "is one of the things I called to talk withyou about. Since you've stated so plainly what you intend to do aboutit--assuming it's a fact,--perhaps it would be in order to take it upbefore--before the other matter. As for these pistols.... Since they'reyours, 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 itif you could see your way to refraining from using them until I'mthrough with what I've got to say; after that ..." (he gave hisshoulders an indifferent shrug) "it's up to you. Do what you think bestwith them. I don't want them--neither one of them."
"Of course not," I sneered. "Quite naturally, you'd prefer to use yourown. Quite right, too. Get it out of your hip-pocket while you've got achance. That's a new chum's way of carrying a gun, anyhow. I'm just abit surprised to see a practised killer like Mister 'Slant' Allenresorting to it. No chance in the world to make an even break of it witha man with a gun in his side-pocket. Tail of your coat's always gettingmixed up with your fingers just when you want to use them."
Allen had braced himself after my first taunt came so near to gettinghim going, and this second one--galling as it must have been--hardlymoved him. Only the faintest flutter of a corrugation between the browstold that another scowl ha
d been repressed. The half-surprised tap hegave to the bulge on his hip--a gesture that would most certainly havedrawn a shot from me had I had a gun in hand--suggested that he reallyhad forgotten that there was anything there. I am positive that I couldhave grabbed a revolver from the table and beaten him to it on the draw.A move so naive on the part of an old gunman convinced me, even beforehe had spoken a word, that I had let my feelings send me off athalf-cock.
"I haven't a pistol in my hip-pocket," he said evenly. "Never did carryone there, and wouldn't be likely to begin it if I was going gunning fora specialist like you. You'll have to take my word for that. Yes, andsince I'm going to ask you to take my word--my unsupported word--for anumber of other things, it may be in order to try to make you believethat my word, when I give it to you straight, isn't quite--that it isn'ton just the same plane with the rest of my doings."
I was just a bit surprised that he didn't take out whatever it was thatcreated that bulge in his hip-pocket, but hardly reckoned it worth whilementioning. I was fully assured that, far from seeking trouble, it wasthe one thing he had steadfastly resolved to avoid. That was enough forthe moment. He was also about to speak of the one thing I was interestedin above all others--the doping of Bell. There was every reason why Ishould encourage him to speak of that. The matter of Rona would come upin due course. He evidently had something to say about her also.
"Sit down," I said, and extended my cigarette case.
He declined my fat gold-tipped Egyptians, heavily salted with _kief_(another accursed habit I had picked up in Paris), and lighted a slenderSumatra cheroot from his own case. It was not as a move of precaution (Iwas through with all pretence of that now) that I set the big loungingchair I shoved up for him so that he would sit facing the light. Imerely wanted to watch his face. Yet even that was not necessary tosatisfy me of his sincerity, at least for the moment. His every tone andgesture was sufficient proof of that.
"In the matter of the value of my word...." Allen was losing no time ingetting to the point. "In the time you have spent mooching about theIslands, Whitney, you have doubtless heard me referred to by a good manyhard names, such as pirate, murderer, thief, blackguard, jail-bird,crook, and so on without end. You've heard all of these, haven't you?"
"All, and many others," I assented readily. His frankness ratherappealed to me just then.
"Quite right. Yet I dare say you didn't happen to hear the name of liarincluded among the number. If you did, it was used by some cove who hada grudge against me, and didn't care whether he stuck to facts or not. Idon'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 thenwhen it suited my purpose. I don't claim to be a George Washington. ButI do mean just this: that when I have deliberately assured a man that athing was, or was not so, I was giving him the dead straight of it tothe best of my knowledge. And that's the way I'm speaking when I tellyou that I haven't a revolver on me, and that that dope I slipped intoBell's whisky at Kai had nothing to do with his playing out on thevoyage. As for the reason of that ..."
Allen frowned slightly and ceased speaking for a few seconds. When heresumed it was not to take up the thread where he had dropped it.
"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-burningcheroot; "but this is the first time since I was packed out of Australiafive years ago that I've tried to explain to anyone anything I've saidor done--tried to make out a case for myself. That was simply because Ididn't give a damn whether anyone approved of it or not. The reason I amdoing it now--well, there are two reasons."
He puffed quietly for a few moments again, as though gathering histhoughts. Then he continued: "The first reason is that I owe it to youfor the consideration you showed in the matter of not telling them atKai what an ass I'd made of myself. That was dead white, Whitney. I'vegot to give it you for that. No one but a thoroughbred could have heldhis tongue for five minutes about a thing like that, especially seeingyou were under no obligations of any kind whatever to me. And, for all Ican learn, you've held your tongue for a month. How do I know? Well, Iknow about Kai (the only ones I care much about anyway) through a letterJackson 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 leftTownsville. It wasn't much of a literary effort, but he managed to say afew things that--things that I knew he wouldn't have said if you hadgiven them the facts--all the facts about my departure in the _Cora_. Asfor Australia.... If you had been dishing up any inside dope in thisnest of old women and busybodies, no fear that it wouldn't have come tome before this. I know them. Their tongues will waft gossip fromMelbourne to Port Darwin quicker'n the telegraph. My word, don't I knowthem!"
Quickened puffs registered the bitterness of unpleasant memories asAllen fell silent for a brief interval. "I'm not fool enough to believethat you kept quiet here out of any regard for me," he went onpresently. "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 thinksanyway. I'm through with them here for good and all. But the Islands aredifferent. The rest of my life, such as it is, is going to be livedthere, and the only men I have ever had any great respect for are livingthere now. So, whatever reason there was behind it, Whitney, I'm deeplygrateful to you for not showing me up in Kai. It was dead white ofyou.--I say it again. I've thought of it a good many times since I gotJack's scrawl, and it was the first thing I intended to speak to youabout today. Only, my slate got a bit upset. That little gun of yoursdeflected my thoughts, and then--but you saw how I got forced off onanother tack.
"The other reason" (Allen hurried on as though anxious to avoid hearingany 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 inthe matter of Bell's death is because, if I don't, there will be no hopeof your granting the request I have come to make of you--and I can't runany chances of failure with that.
"I didn't want to kill Bell, but--well, it seems that I was equal toplaying a damn dirty trick to get him out of the way. I won't need totell you why. I hate to drag the girl into it, but it can't be helped.She must have bewitched me, I'm afraid. Not intentionally. Quite to thecontrary, she never gave me a look. I admired Bell--in spite of hisrather standoffish way with me--as much as any man I ever met. That wasthe only reason I held myself in about the girl as long as I did. Idon't know just what would have happened if the schooner hadn't come.Chances are, since I was getting pretty near the limit of myself-control, I would have blown off some other way.
"The opportunity which I saw to get rid of Bell in the schooner was toogreat a temptation to be resisted. So far as getting him clean away withthe _Cora_ was concerned, I have only my own hot-headedness to blame forfailing. I was simply asking for trouble when I went prancing down totake over the girl before the schooner even had her hook broken out; andI found it. No more than I deserved, though."
Allen paused while the old humorous grin spread over his face for amoment. Then: "I trust you won't mind if I don't go into details abouthow I came to put my head into the noose," he said, still grinning. "Itwasn't very edifying, you know--from my standpoint, I mean.
"But it would have made no difference even if Bell had got away, whilethe girl and I remained behind on the island. She wouldn't have hadanything to do with me anyway--at any rate, not while she had any reasonto hope that Bell was still alive,--and probably she would have knifedme at the first chance for the part I had in getting him away. She wouldhave found the chance, too, let me tell you. That girl creates her ownopportunities--there's no holding her once she takes the bit in herteeth. What she wants to do, that thing she does. And what she wants aman to do for her, that thing _he_ does. She'll put through what she'safter if she has to go through hell for it--and no minding whom shetakes with her."
The queer unnerved look on Allen's face drew my first interruption. "Soit's come t
o that?" was all I said.
"Yes, it's come to that," he assented, the seriousness of his eyesbelying the whimsical smile on his lips. "But I'll be returning to thatpresently.
"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 curiositythan anything else. The old Sultan at Ternate had told me about it, andI was just a bit interested in its effects. It was pretty concentrated,though not a hundredth of the strength of the essence from the sameplant that Rona took it for--the deadly poison, which has the samepungent smell. It was a considerable overdose of the stuff I took onenight that put me on to the fact that, after a short spell of ratherpleasant mental stimulation, it would drug a man to sleep for an hour ortwo. Hardly any after-effects at all, except a deuce of a thirst forliquor for a few days. I had talked about it with Doc Wyndham two orthree times, and am perfectly certain of what I tell you.
"It was the only stuff I could lay hands on that promised to do thetrick. You see, I was afraid that if Bell wasn't drugged, he wouldbecome suspicious when I failed to return to the schooner, and come tolook for me--perhaps even chuck up the stunt entirely. If he hadn't beenpretty drunk (much the furthest along I ever saw him--probably onaccount of the beastly heat--you remember it?) he must have sniffed thehalf-dozen drops I put in his half-emptied glass of whisky while he wasconning that old chart he had on the wall. It was a light dose (I'vetaken twice that much myself), and though he went under jolly fast--dueto his being so far gone with whisky, probably--he was up and takingcommand of the schooner inside of an hour. And you'll remember how hewas going right on ahead getting under way to catch the tide, eventhough 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 setout to do. There was a lot in common between him and the girl on thatscore. No wonder they were so strong for each other."
Allen fell silent again, stroking his cheroot between thumb andforefinger--the habit the correspondents had characterized as a sign ofmodesty. "I hope you won't insist on my telling any more about thevoyage 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 anightmare in memory as it was in fact. You saw how things were on theschooner when we got away. Well, just picture them getting worse andworse day by day for--how long was it?--something over a week, Ibelieve, but it seemed a lifetime. The whisky I kept bracing up withmade it a lot easier for me to stand--kept me from going crazy andjumping overboard, as so many of the niggers did. But Bell--he didn'thave the whisky--wouldn't have it. Yes, he kept up that mad joke of hisabout being a 'soba skippa' to the end. That was what killed him--justthat, and nothing else. It was beyond a being of flesh and blood to dowhat he set himself out to do--and live. He tried to (my God, how hetried!)--and died.
"I never felt such pity for any living thing, unless it was old Recoil,my first steeplechaser, when he lived for twenty-four hours afterstaving in his chest against a stone wall. I was hardly more than a kidthen. 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 shoothim. Then I pulled myself together and did the humane job myself. But Icouldn't shoot Bell, and he wouldn't shoot himself. That would have beenthe easy way out (since he had steeled his will against taking anotherdrink), but he wouldn't follow that short-cut either. Said he was--howdid 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 keepingstrict teetotal, wasn't it?
"It got to me worse than the crazy niggers--watching the agony of hismind and body contorting the muscles of his face, as he tried to hidewhat he was going through. The girl was a good deal of help to him forthe first day or two, and he admitted that he was glad she had decidedto join his 'li'l' pa'ty at the last minnit.' But even she failed tocreate a diversion as his cravings for whisky became more and moreintense, and he seemed to try to avoid her as much as he could towardthe last--probably because he couldn't hide his suffering from her. Isaw that it was killing him--that he would never last out the voyage onthe course he was heading,--and tried hard to make him see that it wasonly reasonable to allow himself at least enough whisky to ease off thetension on his breaking nerves. But he wouldn't listen to it.
"'I gave it out official,' he said, 'that I was goin' to keep soba on mynext ship, if I eva got one. An' soba's the wo'd.' To put an end to thematter, he turned his back on me and went for'ard among the niggers.
"After that I tried to explain to Rona (I had managed to get on speakingterms with her as soon as she became satisfied that Bell had not beenpoisoned) how things stood, in the hope that she would fall in with aplan I had for giving him small doses of whisky with the coffee he hadtaken to drinking with increasing frequency as the craving for liquorgrew on him. She flew into a temper at once, however. Said that, farfrom helping me to give him whisky on the quiet, she would taste everycup of coffee after it was poured for him in the galley, and then takeit to him herself. She ended by saying that if I tried that trick shewould knife me with her own hands: in fact, rather regretted that shehadn't done it when she had a chance at Kai. I couldn't for the life ofme see why the girl should take that attitude, when it was so plain thatwhisky was the only thing that would pull Bell through; but take it shedid, and that was the end of it, at least as far as co-operation fromher was concerned, I mean. That simply left it up to me to watch mychances and do the best I could on my own.
"Bell had insisted on standing watch-and-watch with me from the first,usually, in his own watch, taking the wheel himself, probably because itgave him something to occupy his mind--and his hands. (He was beginningto tear the skin of the palms of his hands from clenching andunclenching his fingers.) What broke him finally was discovering that hewas no longer fit for a trick at the wheel. His eyes went bad rapidlyunder the strain, and it was not long before he could not distinguishthe readings on the compass card. He told me about it at once, but wasconfident he could manage to hold a course by the stars. This went onall right as long as it was clear. But one night, when it was squallyand overcast, he lost the 'Cross' (which had been giving him a shiftingbut fairly approximate bearing), and fell back on trying to keep her acouple of points off the wind. This would have done all right if theTrade 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 theschooner all but onto the Baluka Reef and shoal at daybreak. I let himextricate himself to save his feelings; but he knew that both the Bo'sunand I had twigged what had happened, and why, and it must have been therealization of the fact that he had become quite useless in navigatingthe ship that hastened the final collapse.
"He came on the following night for his watch--the 'graveyard,' frommidnight to four in the morning,--but made no objection when I stuck onat the helm. We were closing the tangle of the Barrier Reef by then, yousee, 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 thebeginning of the thirty-six-hour trick at the wheel that ended when weanchored off Townsville.
"When Bell let me stay on at the wheel at midnight, he showed the firstvoluntary signs of giving in, not in the matter of closing his lips towhisky--nothing could affect his decision on that score,--but to theother alternative. I mean that he gave up hope of holding on till he hadbrought his ship to port--gave up hope of living to the end of thevoyage. Up to that time he had always tried to pass the whole thing offas a sort of a joke, running on with patter like that about the 'watawagon.' But he dropped all that from the moment I refused to give way tohim at the wheel.
"'Youah quite right, Allen,' he said in a weary sort of voice, and wentover and sat down on the rail of the cockpit. His voice was hollowerstill when he spoke again, maybe ten minutes later. 'Allen,' he croaked,'I've got a hunch I'm not up to pullin' my weight in this heah schoonaany longa. I'm all in--no mo'n so much ballast. Just a dead drag.'<
br />
"I didn't reply to that. I was too much awed--yes, awed--even to urgehim again to take the drink I knew would be the saving of hismind--perhaps his life. He didn't speak again till after I roused him toprevent 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 ofthe Barrier--but scant seaway and fluky airs.) As he settled back on theweather rail of the cockpit he said, speaking very slow as though hardput to control his voice: 'Allen, I make it about two hundred miles toTownsville by youah noon position. Say thirty-six to forty hours'sailin', with the wind holdin' up. Do you reckon you an' Ranga--goodman, 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 thedirty navigatin' Allen, take my wud fo' it, this soba skippa stunt ain'tall it's cracked up to be--not by a long shot. I'd rather ha' had theplague by a damn sight, Allen.'
"He wouldn't mention the other alternative--whisky--even then, and Isimply didn't have the nerve to take advantage of the opening andsuggest it to him outright. But I did what I thought was the best thingunder the circumstances--waited for a stretch of open sailing, gave thewheel to a nigger, fished up a convenient bottle of whisky, and set itdown just behind him against the cockpit rail. I didn't speak eventhen--just pressed his shoulder, tilted the neck of the bottle againsthis hand where it clutched the rail, and went back to the wheel.
"I had the feeling (and I still have) that I was doing the decent andhumane thing, just as I did when I put old Recoil out of his misery;though the cases aren't quite parallel of course. But I knew it wouldforce a crisis one way or the other, and that was what, in allsincerity, I thought was the kindest thing to do. If Bell drank (thoughit well might be that he would go on drinking until he fell in astupor), 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 wasalready. On the other hand, if he still refused to drink, the heightenedtemptation of the handy bottle would increase the tension and hasten thecollapse of mind and body, which was now but a matter of a few hours atthe outside. I think you'll agree with me, Whitney, that I did thekindest thing possible under the circumstances."
"I wouldn't venture an opinion on that offhand," I temporized; "but, inany event, it's the thing I would undoubtedly have done myself had Ibeen in your place. There's no question in my mind on that point atleast."
"I'm glad to hear you say that," he said warmly; "especially as therewas one person--a rather important person to me--who didn't approve ofmy action.
"Bell's only acknowledgment of what I had done," Allen went on, "was asort of disjointed muttering. 'Many thanks, ol' man. Nothin' doin'. Goodintentions. 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 abluff at throwing it over the side. I have an idea that the reason forhis restraint on that score was due to the fact that he remembered I hadtold him that the supply was running low (I had been putting an awfulcrimp in it), and didn't want to deprive me of it. He was quiteconsiderate enough to think of that sort of a thing, even with hissenses toppling, as they must have been from the beginning of the watch.
"It was a moonless night, and heavily overcast, so that I could justmake out the blur of Bell's head and shoulders against the deckhousewhere he sat hunched up on the port rail of the cockpit. But there was acrack opening up in the beastly binnacle, and through it an inch-widewelt of light slashed diagonally across his tortured face. One eye, theside of his nose and half of his mouth were sharply lighted up. The restwas a shadowy blank. The vivid gash of light, like a magnet, keptdrawing my gaze away from the compass. That one eye, wide and staring,never blinked in the bright beam. The nostril, distending andcontracting jerkily, was red, like that of a horse that has beengalloped to the point of death. The teeth looked to be clenched throughthe lower lip, and blood was trickling over the lighted streak ofclean-shaven chin. Not all his sufferings had made him miss his morningshave. Almost like a rite with him, that was."
"Holdover from his Naval life," I suggested hastily, fearful less heshould be tempted to digress upon irrelevant details.
"I don't know just when it was that the end came," Allen resumed. "I wasexpecting every moment that he would jump up and begin his restlesspacings, as he had done on previous nights. But at six bells hisposition was still unchanged, and to blot out that beastly slash oflight across his drawn face I threw a piece of canvas over the top andback of the binnacle, so that the beam from the crack was cut off. Justas the morning watch was called a nasty bit of a squall was threateningto bore in and give us a raking, though it finally passed astern of usand spun off down to leeward. My hands were full for some minutespreparing against the imminent onslaught, and it was not until themenace was past and I had taken over the wheel from Ranga (who hadrelieved me when I went for'ard to have a squint ahead for myself), thatit struck me that Bell had been paying no attention whatever to all thathad been going on--didn't appear to have shifted at all, in fact.
"I was just going to call to him to suggest that he go below and turn infor 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 offand avoid grounding on a patch of barely submerged coral, just becomingvisible in the shimmer of the false dawn. As I knew that the main wallof the Great Barrier must be close at hand to lee, I was chary ofletting her fall off very far in that direction. I had just ordered aman to stand-by to heave the lead at the first sign of shoaling water onthe starboard bow, when the tail of my eye caught a glimpse of Ronastepping out on deck from the cabin companion way. (We had sulphured outthe Agent's cabin and made it fairly comfortable for her use. It was outof the question her sleeping on deck, on account of the incessantsqualls.) She headed straight for Bell, who was still hunched up on theweather rail of the cockpit, the outlines of his face just beginning toshow in the ashy light of early morning.
"As her hand touched his shoulder she let out a shrill squeal andplumped down on her knees beside him. In doing this she must have bumpedthe whisky bottle, which had been rolling back and forth on the deckwith the lurches of the schooner. It was with more of a hiss than ascream that she grabbed it up and flung it straight for my head. Oh, Ishould hardly say _straight_," Allen corrected himself, "for Ronaevidently can't throw any better than the run of her white sisters. Thebottle smashed against the wheel, deluged the cockpit with broken glassand one of my last half-dozen quarts of whisky. If I had not been prettysure that Bell was already dead, the fact that the smell of the oldfamiliar juice welling up from the deck didn't bring a twitch to hisnostrils would have been enough to drive it home to me.
"Without waiting to observe the effects of her throw, Rona launchedherself right on after the bottle--only a shade better aimed. Unluckily,the cross-cut she took to my throat carried her right over thewheel--and at the very instant that the appearance of a second line offoam down to leeward confirmed my fears about our desperately scantworking room. The instinctive lifting of my right arm to block thegirl's grab at my face came near to bringing disaster. I fended theclutch from my throat all right, but the weight of her body fallingacross the wheel tore the spoke from my left hand and threw the schoonerup into the wind.
"Ranga's quick presence of mind was all that saved the situation.Jumping into the cockpit regardless of the broken glass cutting his barefeet, he grabbed the girl about the waist, disentangled her flying armsand legs from the wheel, and smothered her struggles against his side. Ithrew the wheel back an instant before she jibed, and then, for two orthree seconds, things hung in the balance. Finally, very slowly, shefilled away on the port tack again, and the immediate danger was over.Had the schooner gone about, nothing could have saved her from runningonto the reef. There was not enough room left in which to wear herround.
"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 thelast coherent words that c
ame to my ears were, not unfitly: 'Nothin'doin'. Soba skippa to a fareyewell.'
"That rub with the reef was the nearest squeak we had--though I can'tsay that I remember much about the navigation that took us through theBarrier and on to Townsville. Drunken man's luck doubtless. I was suredrunk, and no mistake, though both my legs and my head were grindingright along to the finish--only ceased functioning when there wasnothing more to do.
"The girl--when Ranga let her go again--went back and settled down byBell's body. Wouldn't let anyone come near it. Only left it on the twoor three further occasions that she took to fly at my throat when shethought I wasn't looking. I didn't want to lock her up (it was invitingthe plague to force her to stay 'tween decks for too long), but managedto get around the difficulty finally by having one of the crew stand-byto push in and absorb the impact whenever she made a break in mydirection. She gave up trying after that. Seemed to loathe the touch ofa nigger. But with Ranga it was different. She grew quiet as soon as hepicked her up--something like a kid with its nurse.
"The big fellow was wonderful, by the way. Always doing the right thingwithout waiting for an order, always cool and quiet, alwaysgood-natured. Spent his spare time sitting on the taffrail and peepingto the sea-gulls on a queer little Malay flute he always carried in hisbelt--some kind of hollow stem, full of little wooden balls that gave aweird sort of ripple to the notes. First and last, Ranga was the man towhom the bulk of the credit was due for taking the schooner through. Istill feel a bit guilty that I didn't divide the whisky with him. Butperhaps it was best to stow it where I did.... You never know how ayellow man or a black man will react to the stuff. It's hard enoughguessing with a white man sometimes."
Allen smiled whimsically as he lighted a fresh cheroot. He was throughwith the worst of the story and seemed a good deal relieved. It wasplain enough that he spoke the truth when he said that the memory of itwas still a nightmare, and that he hated to have to speak of it. He saida 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 wouldhave followed the body over the side. He had no misgivings about keepingit aboard, he said, as he was quite certain that it carried no plagueinfection. He mentioned incidentally, that they had found a lot of stickbrimstone among the stores, and that the thorough smudging they gave theafter quarters with this was probably responsible for the fact that theplague had not reappeared there. It had been impossible to devise a wayto disinfect the big 'midships hold where the labour recruits werehoused, on account of the more or less crazy condition of all of theniggers.
Allen looked at his watch, but went on with his story as though in noparticular hurry. "You're doubtless impatient to hear about the girl'sturning up again," he said. "You've already heard of the ratherremarkable escape she made from the Quarantine Station--Butler, one ofthe doctors, mentioned that he told you about it on your steamer. At theStation it was the theory that the girl had broken out so that she couldkill herself on Bell's grave--that she was more or less off her headanyhow. That was a mistake, though a natural one. She had just one thingin view when she clambered out of the mad cell and over the wall: thatwas to lie low until I came out and then, watching her chance, try tomake a 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 leastuntil I was out and gone beyond her reach.
"Her mind was working well enough to make her reckon that that Chineseshawl (which everyone would have noted) was the one garment she had thatcould not fail to be recognized. So--it must have been something of awrench for her--she left it on the bank of Ross Creek and went to seek ahiding place.
"Luck was with her in the search. Locating the native quarter afterwandering for a while, she circulated around until she came upon thesigns--in Hindustani, I fancy--in front of the shack of an old EastIndian drug seller and money changer. How she got around him I don'tknow; but at any rate she persuaded him to keep her there until I wasout of quarantine. She even contrived to get the old rascal to spy outthe refuge I had flown to--a bungalow just out of town, where I figuredI would be a bit quieter than at the hotel. Then she took a hand in thegame herself.
"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 havebothered much with that kind of thing. The doors and windows were wideopen. I had a servant--a Chino,--but he was sleeping in his own hut inthe rear of the grounds.
"It was the window she came in by, though she could just as well haveused the door. I was more than half awake (hadn't been sleeping verywell any of the time since my two-day snooze after landing from theschooner), lying on my back under the mosquito net, with no covers overme. It was probably her intention to slip up quietly and get her handsunder the net before disturbing me. She had no knife, by the way. Theyhad taken that little Malay dagger away after she had tried to stick meat the Quarantine Station. As she would have had no difficulty inraising another through old Ratu Lal had she wanted it, I take it thatshe felt confident enough of doing the job with her hands. No idle dreamthat, either; you know something of the strength of them.
"I sat up in bed in a dazed sort of way as her shadow darkened thewindow. (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 herplan. Very naturally, she counted on my shooting first and askingquestions afterwards. It was the rational and proper thing to do, and itis probably what I would have done had my pistol been handy. But, notdreaming of an attack (this was the day before old 'Squid' Saundersturned up and took a jab at me), my gun was in my coat pocket. I havealways carried it there--when I had a coat on--ever since I saw yourlittle exhibition of pocket gunnery at Kai," he added with a humoroussmile.
"As I was saying, the stir I made under the mosquito net forced the girlto speed up her schedule a bit. You saw the jump she made the time shecaught up the schooner at Kai. Well, it must have been about that samekind of a spring over again. She never touched the floor between the lowwindow ledge and my bed. Landed right on my chest, bringing down the netunder her weight, and went to my throat with an instinct as sure as thatof a fighting bulldog. She was choking me right through the net before Ireally knew what had happened.
"Of course, taking it for granted that she was dead, I didn't have theghost of an idea it was Rona who was sprawling on my chest and shuttingoff my wind with steel fingers that seemed closing in to meet at thebase of my brain. I didn't even know that it was a woman. In fact, thedeadly pressure of that grip argued all the other way--that I was beingthrottled by a man, and a deucedly powerful one at that. If I did anyspeculating at all, I probably figured it as some kind of a thievingstunt. But a man fighting for his life--and that is precisely what I wasdoing--doesn't waste much time in conjecture. My immediate problem was asimple one. If that grip wasn't broken inside of a minute, it might staythere forever as far as my shaking it off was concerned. I had beenchoked before, and also done a bit of choking on my own account; so Iknew to within a few seconds how long it is before the head of a manwhose wind is shut off begins to reel.
"Still quite the master of myself, I tried on, very deliberately, thebest thing I knew for breaking a strangle grip--that simple little_jujutsu_ trick of thrusting your arms between those of the man chokingyou, and then throwing back your shoulders and expanding your chest.Stiffening the chest muscles, I mean--of course you can't expand it withair while your windpipe is closed. That never fails if you are both onyour feet, and will sometimes work even when you are on your back. Herethe tangle of the net blocked the up-thrust of my arms, and I failed toget enough leverage to break the hold on my neck.
"Then I tried my next best bet--that of turning over and over and sortof 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 towork along far enough to roll over the side of
the bed, but again it wasthe net that defeated my effort. I was getting a good deal peeved withthat bally canopy; and yet, in the end, it was the very thing that gotme clear.
"Nine times out of ten a man being held down and choked by anotherman--that is, if the choker knows his job--has no chance of doubling upin 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 assailantknew his business right enough, but the folds of the net (some of thecorners of which were still clinging to its frame), prevented hisflattening in close to my legs. The sag of the woven bamboo bed springsalso gave me a few inches of leeway.
"There was nothing deliberate or confident in the jerk with which Ibegan drawing my knees up against my chest. I had already failed twicewith what I rated as decidedly better bets than that one, and the timelimit was nearly up. My head was already beginning to swim. It was neckor 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 itquite enough to break its hold, but it did enable me to squirm my rightfoot 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 terrifickicking push.
"In reverse, the flight of the muscular body that had been holding medown 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 thefloor. The hold on my neck was the only point of contact that did notbreak readily, and there the result was--as you saw a moment ago. Asthose steel-claw fingers would not give an inch, they simply ripped outthrough the flesh. I can consider myself dead lucky that they didn'thook onto my windpipe or jugular. Both of them would have come rightalong with all the flesh and hide those unrelaxing talons took withthem.
"It didn't occur to me for a few moments that I might have knocked outmy assailant, and I was a good deal surprised when he neither returnedto the attack nor made any break to escape. The laboured gasping in thedarkness 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 knewthat spasmodic gasping for air meant that I wasn't going to be greatlytroubled for a minute or two at least, so took my time about fumblingfor my automatic and lighting the lamp.
"A bit dazzled by the light for a moment, I took the lanky yellow figurehuddled up against the wall to be a Hindu coolie. The thin legs and armswere like those of the East Indian indentured labourers of the sugarplantations, and the two or three yards of white cloth trailing offalong the floor suggested a Madrassi waist and shoulder rag.Presently--for that one rumpled wrapping was all she had worn--I sawthat it was a woman; and then--but as a matter of fact I think that thegirl spoke before I recognized her face.
"'"Slant,"' she piped out in that bird-like chirrup of hers; '"Slant," Iguess I make a meestake. 'Scuse me, ple-ese, "Slant."'
"Could you beat that for cheek? Trying to tear a man's throat out oneminute, and asking him to 'ple-ese 'scuse' her for it the next. And whatdo you think of a man who would tumble for it, especially after the wayshe 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 stilltumbling.
"Having the girl turn up like that--after I had been thinking of her asdead for a week or two--didn't give me quite the shock it would have ifthat voice had come out of the darkness without my seeing her first. Itwas a deuce of a surprise even as it was; but, when all is said anddone, a pleasant one, in spite of the rather startling way she choseto--to re-materialize. I was glad to find that she was alive, whether itmeant anything more to me than that or not.
"We didn't talk much that night--there wasn't much talk left in eitherof us as a matter of fact. Rona continued to croak and hiccup, while myown swollen vocal chords smothered every other word I tried to get pastthem. I managed to assure Rona that I quite understood her feelingsagainst me (though I didn't entirely, and don't yet), and begged her togive me a chance to explain the way Bell had come to his finish. Sheadmitted that she had begun to believe that she might have been hasty inher decision and action, and said she would be glad to hear what I hadto say. She told me where she was in hiding and asked me to come therein the morning; also to do what I could to square her with thequarantine authorities for breaking out of the Station ahead of time,and on no account to let anything happen to old Ratu Lal for giving herrefuge. She seemed to take it as a matter of course that I would dothese things. You'd have thought I was some sort of a _mayordomo_ takingorders.
"It was not very late and, luckily, the bungalow (which Ralston hadoccupied himself at times) had a telephone. I ordered a closed carriagesent out, and also got the Quarantine Station and arranged for one ofthe doctors--Butler, the chap you talked with on the steamer--to come tothe landing and wait for me to pick him up. They had been very decent tome at the Station, and I wanted to avoid having to explain things to astrange doctor.
"Rona tied my neck up for me--very handily, too--and when the carriagecame I bundled her in and gave the driver the direction which carriedhim along the edge of the 'foreign quarter.' I dropped her at a cornernot far from Ratu Lal's joint, promising to look in on her early thenext 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 droveback to the bungalow. After he had dressed my neck I told him what Iwanted him to try to do for me and sent him back to the landing, wherehis boat had hung on for him.
"Rona was looking a bit white about the gills when I called the nextmorning, and complained that her stomach 'got mad' every time she sentfood down to it. I told her that she still had the best of me, as Ididn't expect to be able to get any food down to my stomach for a coupleof days yet. That seemed rather to buck her up, and she had a good laughover it. Then we got down to business, and had an hour's yarn in thedrug-scented quiet of old Ratu Lal's back room.
"As my Malay is fairly good, we talked without difficulty. I told hermore or less what I have just told you about Bell and why I had givenhim the whisky. She said, rather grudgingly, that she thought she couldunderstand why I had done as I did. Then I said a few thingsabout--well, about my personal feelings toward her. Finally, I asked herpoint-blank if she would go back to the Islands with me. Told her shecould live anywhere she wanted, and in any way that she wanted. I didn'tsay that I was willing to marry her, because (since, if she has anyreligion at all, it's Hindu or Mohammedan) I felt that would make nodifference to her one way or the other.
"Am I really willing to marry her?" (It was the lift of my eyebrows thatsuggested the query to Allen, for I did not speak.) "Well, yes, I thinkI am, if she made that a condition. But I don't think the question isone likely to arise.
"The girl took in the whole thing without giving away by word or lookhow it impressed her. When I had finished, she coolly suggested that Irun along and square matters up with the quarantine people about her andRatu Lal. She added that she would be obliged if I'd look up her Chineseshawl for her. She also started to speak about her dagger, but changedher mind and said to let that go for the present. As for what I'd beentelling her.... Well, perhaps if I could see my way to dropping in againtoward evening she might have an answer for me. High and haughty as aSultana, she was, sitting cross-legged on a mat and pulling away at oneof Ratu Lal's big 'hubble-bubbles.'
"I went to the Quarantine Station straightaway, and, in spite of the redtape tangling up a thing of that kind, managed to get them to agree todischarging the girl without anything more than a perfunctory call froma doctor to certify her free of plague. That done, the rest was easy. Itold the story--omitting, of course, the girl's attack upon me--at thePolice Station, and they agreed not to arrest Ratu Lal as long as thequarantine authorities were satisfied and lodged no complaint againsthim. They said they were only too glad of a chance to do me a favour.Then I got them to let me have the shawl, and begged them to keep thenew
s of the girl's turning up quiet as long as they could.
"'Squid' Saunders's little diversion that afternoon gave the pressmensomething else to take up their minds, and the matter of the missinggirl 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, butthey probably haven't been enough interested in it--now that the hunthas followed me here--to wire it south.
"When I broke away from the official reception committee and dropped inon Rona at the end of the afternoon--impatient enough, I can tellyou--she gave no sign that the matter I had come for an answer about wasin her mind at all. She grabbed the Chinese shawl out of my hand with ayelp of delight, but almost dissolved in tears when she saw how theembroidery had been smudged and ruffled in her scrambles over trees andwalls and ditches the night she escaped from the Quarantine Station. Youmay remember that it was a big peacock that was embroidered on theshawl--pretty nearly life-size--rather a fine piece of work, it alwaysstruck me. Well, ignoring me entirely, she spread that old peacock outover her breast--something in the way she used to display it when shewore the shawl in Kai--and began chirping and crooning and muttering toit like a dove to its nestlings. She would nuzzle into the plumage,smoothing the ruffled feathers with her lips, just like she was the oldpeacock preening himself. Every little bit of torn floss she would tryto put back where it came from.
"Stiff with funk, I sat quiet until she had gone all over the moultingold bird, but when she started in working down from his crest again, Ithought it was time to remind her of my presence. I had never sat aroundwaiting on anybody like that before, Whitney; even my old nurse couldn'tmake me do it. So I cut in and told her that I had arranged things atthe Quarantine Station--that she wouldn't need to go there again; alsothat old Ratu Lal need not worry any longer about a visit from thePolice. Incidentally, I mentioned that I was making him a present of tenpounds to show my appreciation of his consideration in not claiming thereward offered for her.
"She took no notice of anything I said. Just went on crooning andpreening and stroking down the ruffled feathers, giving a little sobevery now and then as she came to a place where they were badly mussedup. Then I went off on another tack, saying that I knew of a shop in thetown that carried Chinese embroideries, and suggesting it was possible askilled needle-worker might be found there competent to undertake therestoration of the bird's damaged plumage. She deigned to cock up an earto listen to that, but her only reply was a disconsolate shake of thehead, as though anything like proper restoration was a matter beyond allhope.
"That quieted me for a while, but after twirling my thumbs through tenor fifteen minutes more nuzzling and crooning, my patience gave out. Ijumped up to the accompaniment of a good lively string of oaths, andasked her point-blank if she had made up her mind about the matter wehad been speaking of in the morning. She broke into a ripple of smilesat that, and cooed sweetly: 'Ye-es, I think 'bout that plenty, "Slant."'Then she slipped into voluble Malay and laid down a perfectly simple anddirect proposal, on the fulfilment of the conditions of which she waswilling to return to the Islands with me. It was not what I hadexpected,--not what anyone would have dreamed of expecting under thecircumstances; yet ridiculously easy of fulfilment in the event acertain 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. Everythingis up to you now. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to understandwhy I rattled on for an hour or more in the hope of putting myself rightwith you about Bell. I've never tried to justify myself with any livingman before, and probably will never do it again. But it had to be donethis time, Whitney, and I hope I've been successful."
My nod might have meant almost anything, but I was not unwilling thatAllen should interpret it in his favour. As a matter of fact, he hadconvinced me wholly that--after the abortive attempt at drugging inKai--he had played straight with Bell. As for Rona--well, if he was alsoready to play straight with her (and he had just about convinced me onthat 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 herwill--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 thingwas a bit obscure yet, but what Allen had still to say might dosomething to clear it up. Without committing myself by more than thatone nod, I waited for him to go on.