LONG ODDS
by
HAROLD BINDLOSS
Author of "Alton of Somasco," "The Cattle-Baron'sDaughter," "The Mistress of Bonaventure,""Winston of The Prairie," "Delilah ofThe Snows," etc.
SCIRE QVOD SCIENDVM]
BostonSmall, Maynard & Company1908
Copyright, 1908, bySmall, Maynard & Company(Incorporated)
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I THOMAS ORMSGILL 1 II RESTITUTION 16 III HIS OWN PEOPLE 29 IV THE SUMMONS 44 V A DETERMINED MAN 60 VI DESMOND MAKES AN ADMISSION 73 VII ORMSGILL KEEPS HIS WORD 86 VIII THE BONDSWOMAN 97 IX ANITA BECOMES A RESPONSIBILITY 108 X ORMSGILL ASKS A FAVOR 118 XI DESMOND VENTURES A HINT 129 XII LISTER OFFERS SATISFACTION 141 XIII HIS BENEFICENT INFLUENCE 152 XIV HERRERO'S IMPRUDENCE 165 XV NARES COUNTS THE COST 176 XVI NEGRO DIPLOMACY 189 XVII THE AMBUSCADE 201 XVIII DOM CLEMENTE LOOKS ON 213 XIX THE DELAYED MESSAGE 225 XX DESMOND GOES ASHORE 237 XXI ON THE BEACH 250 XXII UNDER STRESS 264 XXIII THE SLACKENING OF RESTRAINT 280 XXIV BENICIA MAKES A BARGAIN 294 XXV DOMINGO APPEARS 307 XXVI THE DAY OF RECKONING 320 XXVII AN ERROR OF JUDGMENT 332 XXVIII THE CHEFE STANDS FAST 344 XXIX DOM CLEMENTE STRIKES 356 XXX ORMSGILL BEARS THE TEST 369 XXXI ON HIS TRIAL 381 XXXII BENICIA UNDERTAKES AN OBLIGATION 392
LONG ODDS
CHAPTER I
THOMAS ORMSGILL
It was towards the middle of a sweltering afternoon when CommandantDom Erminio roused himself to wakefulness as he lay in his Madeirachair on the veranda of Fort San Roque, which stands beside a muddyriver of Western Africa. As a rule Dom Erminio slept all theafternoon, which was not astonishing, since there was very little elsefor him to do, and if there had been he would conscientiously haverefrained from doing it as long as possible. It is also very probablethat any other intelligent white man similarly circumstanced wouldhave been glad to spend part, at least, of the weary day in mercifuloblivion. San Roque is one of the hottest places in Africa, which issaying a good deal, and at night a sour white steam, heavy with theexhalations of putrefaction, rises from the muddy river. They usuallybring the white man who breathes them fever of one or several kinds,while even if he endures them scatheless the steamy heat melts thevigor out of him, and the black dejection born of it and the monotonycrushes his courage down. San Roque is scorched with pitilesssunshine during part of the year, but it is walled in by never-liftingshadow, for all round the dark forest creeps close up to it.
On the afternoon in question the Commandant's rest was prematurelybroken, because his dusky major-domo had not had the basket chairplaced where it would remain in shadow, and a slanting shaft ofsunlight struck hotly upon the sleeper's face. A dull throbbing soundalso crept softly out of the heavy stillness, and it was a sound whichusually promised at least an hour or two's distraction. Dom Erminiorecognized it as the thud of canoe paddles, and sat upright in hischair looking about him drowsily, a little, haggard, yellow-faced manin white uniform, with claw-like hands whose fingers-ends were stainedby tobacco. He lived remote from even such civilization as may be metwith on the coast of Western Africa, with a handful of black soldiersand one white companion, distinctly on sufferance, since the fever andcertain tribesmen who showed signs of resenting the white men'sencroachments might at any time snuff him out. He was, however, ofIberian extraction, and it was characteristic of him that he did notconcern himself greatly about the possibility of such a catastrophe orconsider it worth while to take any steps to avert it which he mightperhaps have done.
As he glanced round he saw the straggling line of stockade which wasfalling down in places, for, being what he was, it had not occurred tohim to mend it; the black soldiers' thatched quarters; and theramshackle residency, which was built in part of wood and in part ofwell rammed mud. Beyond them rose the forest, black and mysterious,cleft by the river's dazzling pathway, and a faint look ofanticipation crept into Dom Erminio's eyes as the thud of paddles grewlouder. The river was one stage of the road to civilization, and hecould not quite give up the hope that certain political friends in hisown country would remember him some day. Then his look of interestdied away, for it became evident from the beat of paddles that theoccupants of the approaching canoe were traveling faster than any onein the Government service usually thought it worth while to do.Besides that, the Government's messengers were not addicted totraveling at all in the heat of the afternoon.
"Ah," he said, with a wave of his unlighted cigarette which wasvaguely expressive of resignation, "it is the Englishman Ormsgill orthe American missionary. Perhaps, by a special misfortune, it may beboth of them."
His companion, who leaned upon the balustrade, nodded, for Englishmenand Americans are not held in great esteem in that country, nor aremissionaries of any kind. They see too much, and some of them reportit afterwards, which, when now and then the outer world pricks up itsears in transient interest or indignation, is apt to make trouble foreverybody. Still, the Lieutenant Luiz was a lethargic man and aphilosopher in his way, so he said nothing, though he waved the comelybrown-skinned girl who had been sitting near him back into the house.There was, at least, no occasion to provide a weapon for the enemy,and Marietta had made several attempts to run away lately.
Commandant Erminio smiled approvingly. "What one suspects does notcount," he said. "In this land of the shadow one suspects everythingand everybody. There are even envious and avaricious men on the coastdown yonder who fling aspersions at me."
If Lieutenant Luiz had been an Englishman he would probably havegrinned, but he was too dignified a gentleman to do anything of thatkind, though there was a faint twinkle in his languid dark eyes. Thena canoe swung into sight round a bend, and slid on towards the landingwith wet paddles flashing dazzlingly. Four almost naked negroes swungthem, but another man, who wore white duck and a wide gray hat alsoplied a dripping blade just clear of the awning astern, which was avery unusual thing in that region.
"It is certainly the Englishman Ormsgill," said Dom Erminio. "That isa man the fever cannot kill, which is, perhaps, a pity." Then he wavedhis cigarette again. "Still, it is possible that Headman Domingo willsettle with him some day."
The canoe slid up to the pile-bound bank, and the two white men whogot out strode towards the residency, which was characteristic, sinceon a day of that kind an Iberian would certainly have sauntered. Thefirst of them was tall, and thinner even than most white men are whohave had the flesh melted from them in tropical Africa. His face washollow, though he was apparently only some thirty years of age, butit was the face of a strong-willed man, and there was a certainsuggestion of optimism in it and his eyes, which was singularlyunusual in the case of a man who had spent several years in thatcountry. Even nature is malignant there, and man is steeped in lustand avarice and cruelty, but in spite of this Watson Nares was anoptimist as well as an American medical missionary.
He returned the Commandant's greeting, which was punctiliouslycourteous, and sitting down in the chair a negro brought for him,waited until his companion, who had turned to give an order to thecanoe boys, came up. The latter was of average height, a stronglybuilt man of about the missionary's age, with a brick red face, fairhair thinned
by fever, and wrinkles about his gray eyes. They weresteady, observant eyes, though a half-cynical, half-whimsical twinklecrept into them now and then, as it did when he glanced towards theCommandant. The latter would have clapped his shoulder, but he avoidedthe effusive greeting with a certain quiet tactfulness which was usualwith him.
"The padre and I are going back to the concession," he said inPortuguese. "If you have any hammock boys we would like to borrowthem."
The Commandant said that this was unfortunately not the case. Two ofhis carriers had dysentery, and another a guinea worm in his leg; andthere was only the little twinkle in Ormsgill's eyes to show that hedid not believe him.
"Besides," said Lieutenant Luiz, "the country is not safe. There is arumor that the Abbatava men are watching the lower road."
Ormsgill laughed, though he fancied that Dom Erminio had flashed aquick glance at his subordinate before the latter spoke.
"Still, I scarcely think the Abbatava people will trouble me, and inany case some of them would be sorry if they did," he said. "Well,since you have no carriers we will get on again. It is a long way tothe concession, and Lamartine is very ill. I brought up the padre tosee if he could do anything for him."
Dom Erminio shrugged his shoulders. "It is a wasted effort, which is athing to be regretted in this land, where an effort is difficult tomake. Lamartine has been ill too often, and if he is ill again he willcertainly die. As you have heard, the bushmen are in an unsettledstate, and there are several sick men here. It is, perhaps, convenientthat the Senor Nares should stay at San Roque."
He made a little suggestive gesture which seemed to indicate that theroad was unsafe, turning towards his subordinate as though forconfirmation, but once more Ormsgill fancied there was a warning inhis glance.
"Of a surety!" said the Lieutenant Luiz. "Lamartine is probably notalive by now. Still, if the Senor Nares insists on going it is wellthat he should take the higher road."
In the meantime the canoe boys had unrolled a canvas hammock andlashed it to its pole. Nares stood up as they approached the verandastairway with the pole upon their wooly crowns.
"I will come back and look at your sick," he said. "We have only theone hammock, Ormsgill."
Ormsgill smiled. "There is nothing very wrong with my feet, and Ihaven't had a dose of fever for some time. It isn't your fault thatyou have one now."
He made the two officers a little inclination as he took off his hat,and Nares, who shook hands with them, crawled into his hammock. He, atleast, had the fever every two or three months or so. Then the boysstruck up a marching song as they swung away with their burden intothe steamy shadow, and the Commandant leaned on the balustradelistening with a little dry smile until the crackle of trampledundergrowth and sighing refrain died away.
"When one desires to encourage such men it is generally wise to pointout the difficulties," he said. "One would fancy that they were fondof them, especially the Senor Ormsgill, who is of the kind the customsof this world make rebels of."
"And the other?" asked Lieutenant Luiz, who had, not without reason, arespect for the wisdom of his superior. He had found that it was, insome ways at least, warranted.
The Commandant lighted his cigarette, and watched the first smokewreath float straight up into the stagnant air. "He would be a martyr.It is a desire that is incomprehensible to you and me, but there areothers besides him who seem to cherish it--and in this land of thedevil opportunities of satisfying it are generally offered them."
He looked at Lieutenant Luiz, and once more the latter's face relaxedinto the nearest approach to a grin his sense of dignity allowed. Onecould have fancied there was an understanding of some kind between themen.
In the meanwhile Nares' bearers were plodding down a two-foot trailwalled in by thorny underbrush and festoons of as thorny creepers thatflowed down in tangled luxuriance between the towering cottonwoodtrunks. There was dim shade all about them, and the atmosphere waslike that of a Turkish bath, steamy and almost insufferably hot, onlythat there was in it something which checked instead of acceleratedthe cooling perspiration. Now and then the bearers gasped, andOrmsgill's face was flushed as he walked beside the hammock.
"We should get through by to-morrow night if we take the lower road,"he said. "I believe that would be advisable, though I'm not quite sureof it. At least, it's the nearer one, and Lamartine was going downhill very fast when I left him. In fact, he sent two of the boys tothe Mission for Father Tiebout. In one way, the thing's a trifleinvidious, but, you see, Lamartine is of his persuasion."
Nares smiled. "I'm to have the care of his body, and Father Tiebout ofhis soul. Well, we have fought as allies on those terms before, and Iguess I don't mind."
"You're quite sure? After all, in one way, the soul of Lamartine wouldbe something of a trophy."
The American looked up at him with a faint kindling in his eyes."Tiebout has so many to his credit--and he could afford to spare methis one. Still, at least, I can heal the body, if I am called in intime."
"Which is a good deal. Especially in a land where it is singularlydifficult to believe that men have souls at all."
Nares shook his head. "If I didn't feel quite so played out I'd takeyour challenge up," he said. "Guess we'll join issue on that pointanother time. You mentioned once or twice that Lamartine was verysick?"
"There's about one chance in twenty we get there before he's dead.It's one of the reasons I'm taking the lower road. It's the nearest."
It was characteristic that Ormsgill did not state that it was also oneof the reasons he had traveled for four days and most of four nightsunder an enervating heat. Lamartine was an alien of dubious character,and in some respects distinctly uncongenial habits, but Ormsgill hadnot spared himself to give his comrade that one chance for his life.
"Didn't Lieutenant Luiz' recommendation count?" asked Nares.
"No," said Ormsgill, reflectively. "I don't think it did. At least,not as he meant it to, though I've been trying to worry out what hedid mean exactly. One thing's certain. He wasn't prompted by anysolicitude for our safety. You see, he might have been counting on mydistrust of him, or my usual obstinacy, and wanted me to take thehigher road after all. Or he may have been playing another game. Idon't know. That's why we'll take the nearest way and not worry. Whenyou're in doubt, it's generally wisest to do the obvious thing."
Nares made a little drowsy gesture of concurrence. "Straight to themark--and you get there now and then. At least, it can't be the wrongpath--and if one doesn't finish the journey it's only a falling out bythe way. A good many of us have done that in this country."
Ormsgill said nothing. He had somewhere buried deep in him a vague,unformulated faith which, however, seldom found expression of any kindin words, and was tinged with a bitterness against all conventionalcreeds, which was not altogether astonishing in the case of a man whohad lived as he had done in the dark land. Still, he had traveled fourdays and nights to bring his sick comrade the assistance he felt wouldarrive too late and now, when he dragged himself along dead wearythrough the steamy shade, he had reasons for surmising that there wasperil somewhere down the winding trail.
Nares was asleep when they passed the forking and held on by the lowerroad, and Ormsgill did not tell the boys that he had seen a huddledblack figure lying a few yards back among the undergrowth. He did noteven stop to look at it. Labor is in demand in that country, and whenit is supplied by a dusky contractor who collects the raw material inthe bush the unfortunate who sickens on the long march from theinterior usually dies. Transport on the human head makes provisionscostly in a devastated country, and it is not economy to feed a manwho will bring one nothing in. A white man, as everybody knows, maynot own or sell a slave in any part of Africa under European control,but he must have labor, and there are in practice ways of getting overthe obvious difficulty. They are not ways which are discussed openly,and, so far as one can ascertain, are by no means satisfactory to thenegro for whose benefit they are sometimes said to be devised. I
nthis, and a few other matters, the negro's opinion is not, however,deferred to. It is his particular business to gather rubber for thewhite man and grow his cocoa, and the fact that he is not as a rulecontent to recognize this obligation is very seldom taken intoconsideration.
It had been dark two hours, and the bearers could go no furtherwithout a rest, when Ormsgill camped on a ridge beneath tall tuftedpalms at least a hundred yards from the trail. There was a reason forthis, and also for the fact that he allowed no fires to be made,though of all things the negro loves a cheerful blaze. The powers ofevil are very real to him, which is by no means astonishingconsidering the land he lives in. The boys sat huddled about the emptyhammock among the palms, while the two white men lay upon a waterproofground sheet some fifty yards apart from them and nearer the trail.Ormsgill had had very little sleep during the last four nights, buthe was very wide awake then, and a good magazine rifle, which had beensmuggled through San Roque without the Commandant's notice, lay acrosshis knees.
He was listening intently, but could hear nothing except an occasionalrustling among the creepers and the heavy splash of moisture on theleaves. Nor could he see very much, for though here and there a starshown down between the towering trunks, a sour white steam hung almosta man's height about the dripping undergrowth. Save for the splash ofmoisture it was so still that Nares, with imagination quickened by thetension the fever had laid upon his nerves, could almost fancy hecould hear things growing. The growth, at least was characteristic ofthe country in that it was untrammeled, luxuriant, and destructiverather than beneficent. Orchids and parasites sucked the life bloodfrom the trees, and throve upon their ruin; creepers strangled themand tore them down half-rotten. It was a mad, cruel struggle forexistence, and Ormsgill, whose hot hands were clenched upon the rifle,clearly recognized that man must take his part in it. As a matter offact, he was not averse to doing so. There was a vein of combativenessin him, and circumstances had hitherto usually forced him well to thefront when there was trouble anywhere in his vicinity.
What he and Nares talked about was of no particular consequence. Theywere men whose inner thoughts only became apparent now and then, andtheir conversation largely concerned the merits of certain Congolesecigars. By and by, however, Nares stopped abruptly, as a hand thatevidently did not belong to his companion touched his arm, but it wascharacteristic of him that he did not start. He looked round instead,and saw an indistinct and shadowy figure rise out of the undergrowth.It pointed up the trail, and Ormsgill, who seemed to listen for amoment or two, nodded.
"I really think Lieutenant Luiz meant us to take the other road," hesaid. "That must be Domingo bringing down another drove, and as it isevidently a big one it is just as well we didn't meet him on thetrail. Domingo doesn't like either of us, and he has been gettingtruculent lately."
Nares said nothing, and a faint patter of naked feet that grewsteadily louder crept out of the silence. It was dragging andlistless, the shuffle of weary and hopeless men; and it was evidentthat the hammock boy who sank down again into the undergrowth closebeside Ormsgill was badly afraid. Five minutes later a shadowy figureappeared among the trees below them where the mist was thinner, grew atrifle plainer as it slipped across an opening and vanished again, butthere were others behind, and for several minutes a row of half-seenmen flitted by. Here and there one of them draped in white cottoncarried a flintlock gun, but the rest were half-naked, and last of alla few plodded behind a lurching hammock. They went by without a soundbut the confused patter of weary feet upon the quaggy trail, and leftan impressive silence behind them when they plunged into the gloomagain.
Then Ormsgill smiled grimly as he tapped the breech of his rifle.
"If homicide is ever justifiable it would have been to-night," hesaid. "One could hardly have missed that bulge in Domingo's hammock,and the longing to drive a bullet through it was almost too much forme."
Nares made no attempt to rebuke him. "That man," he said, "ispermitted to be--one must suppose as part of a great purpose. Themills of the gods grind slowly, but they do their work thoroughly."
"It seems so," and Ormsgill laughed a little bitter laugh. "Anyway,the stones are wet with blood, and a good many of us have passedbetween them. One wonders now and then how long the downtrodden willendure that terrible grinding."
"It is for a time only. Day and night the cry goes up in manytongues."
"And the gods of the heathen cannot hear; and those of the white menmay, it seems, be propitiated by masses in the cathedral and stainedwindows bought with cocoa and rubber dividends. Well, one must try tobelieve that Domingo's laborers enlisted for the purpose of beingtaught agriculture by the white men of their own free will. At least,that is the comfortable assurance usually furnished the civilizedpowers, and as they have their own little problems to grapple withthey complacently shut one eye. I only wonder how many played-outniggers' throats Domingo has cut on the way. In the meanwhile,Lamartine is dying, and we may as well get on again."
He called to the hammock boys, who still seemed afraid, and in anotherfive minutes the little party was once more floundering onwardsthrough the silence of the steamy bush.