CHAPTER IX
TEMPTATION
Dane's preparations for his journey were quickly made, and he was readyto start before the sun was overhead.
"Life is very uncertain in this country, and because we are partners itmight be as well if you took this map with you in case you should notfind me on your return," said Maxwell. "I worked it out from Niven'snotes, and have the knowledge safe within my brain; but you willremember that the information would be of value to another white man,who has already made attempts to obtain it. It might also be well, incase Miss Castro happens to be present at her father's factory, if youconducted yourself with a little more than your usual diplomacy."
"Your advice is a trifle superfluous," returned Dane testily. "Do youthink I'm fool or rogue enough to make love to her?"
Maxwell smiled.
"You are one person, and I mentioned two. With all respect to MissCastro, it is not quite impossible that she might make love to you.Remember that she might either prove a useful friend or a dangerousenemy."
A few minutes later Dane, followed by three men of Moslem faith, was onhis way; and eventually limped--hungry, half-dazed, and sick offever--out of the dim forest, which, it seemed to him, was loth to letits victim go. The glare of sunlight was overpowering, and at first hecould see little more than the two ragged scarecrows, one mutteringexcitedly as he stretched out a brown hand toward the southern horizon,and the other leaning very heavily on his long Snider rifle. The thirdman lay full length among the grass. Dane could never recollect all theincidents of that journey through a land of eternal shadow, but he felttolerably certain that if his dusky followers had not served himfaithfully his bones would have lain rotting somewhere among itsjungles.
Then, as his eyes grew accustomed to the change of light, he shoutedexultantly, in a voice his British friends would not have recognized.The shining to the southward was, beyond all doubt, the sea, and thewhite blurs among the palms could represent only factories! Turning, heshook his fist at the forest with childish solemnity.
"Tell Amadu to turn that gun away from him, Monday. It might go off, andI be no fit to lose him," he said in coast jargon. "I don't care whatyour color is, you are fine fellows too much, both of you, and now we'llgo on while we have strength left to reach them factory."
How much his followers comprehended did not appear. The man he calledMonday grinned from ear to ear, the other slung his rifle, and they wenton, staggering at their best pace toward the sea, though Dane had avague impression that, with one arm beneath either shoulder, the tworagged Africans dragged him most of the way. Some time later ablindingly whitewashed factory rose up before them against a backgroundof tossing spray and equally dazzling sea, and Dane made shift to reachits outer stairway unaided. An elderly man and a lady who sat on theshady veranda rose at the sight of him. Making an attempt to raise hisbattered sun-hat, he lurched up the stairway. The attempt was notsuccessful. The sun-hat fell over the balustrade, and he saw it longafterward, painted green and blue, upon a Krooboy's head. Clutching atthe topmost rail, he steadied himself by it.
"Unexpected pleasure to see you here, Miss Castro," he said."Salutations, Dom Pedro! Sorry to arrive in this fashion; not quitemyself to-day."
The elderly man shouted, clapping his hands, the lady moved toward thenewcomer; then factory and palm trees went round and round before him,and Dane, loosing his hold, went down with a crash.
What happened next he did not remember, having only a hazy recollectionof tossing in burning torment for an interminable space, during which atintervals somebody held a glass filled with cooling liquid to his lips,while now and then gentle hands, whose touch was soothing, raised hisaching head. Still, he fancied that at times a white face bent over him,and once, when the dim light of a calabash lamp beat into his eyes, thatwaves of dusky hair drooped close above his forehead, and that hecaught, and held fast with all his strength, the cool fingers thatslipped into his own. They seemed to draw him back out of the blackabyss into which he was sliding; and, he surmised afterward, theyactually did so.
Attacks of malarial fever, however, are usually brief; and not longafter his arrival Dane lay, clothed in neatly mended garments and moreor less in his right mind, beside an open window of Castro's factory.The words "more or less" are used advisedly, for the malaria leaves astrange lassitude behind it, and the sufferer often takes up the burdenof life again, as it were, reluctantly, and with somewhat cloudedbrain. The sea breeze had set in fresh and cool, but the man lay limpand dejected, scarcely troubling to breathe it in, while a haggardEnglish surgeon from a neighboring British colony sat near by watchinghim with an irritating curiosity. White men recognize the bond of colorin West Africa, and the surgeon had remained to fight hard for the lifeof a stranger when passing that way. Also, where all dwell under theshadow in a land where the veneer of civilization wears thin, and theprimitive passions show through, the Briton casts aside much of hisnormal reticence.
"Tolerably bad, was I not?" asked Dane; and the surgeon answeredfrankly.
"You were. In fact, on two occasions, I concluded you were going to beatme. Wouldn't even take a draught from--me, and one might compliment youon your determined obstinacy."
"I'm much obliged," Dane said slowly. "That's not quite all I mean, butit's the best I'm capable of just now. I don't know who you are, or whyyou did so much for me."
The surgeon laughed good-humoredly.
"If you must have a reason, you were an interesting case. I'm DennisOrmond, of the Gold Coast service, and Dom Pedro asked me to look atyou. I obliged him, and at first you were not a very encouragingspectacle. Of course, I did my little, but I may say that my medicinewas not the only thing responsible for your cure. The senorita assistedme very ably, and--for a man must sleep sometimes--without her help itis quite probable we should have attended the expected funeral."
Ormond said this with an indifference which Dane, because he did notthen know how much his little had been, or that his was an eminent nameon the fever coast, thought hardly civil; but there was a warninggravity in his tone as he continued:
"It was, of course, my business; but not the senorita's; and you mighthave changed the pronouns in your last sentence advantageously."
Dane was ashamed of several things he said and did that day, and hisanswer among them; but few white men are quite accountable for theiractions when recovering from fever, and there was that in the surgeon'sglance which aroused his indignation.
"Are you not taking an unfair advantage--considering how much I oweyou!" he asked.
"Perhaps so!" said Ormond. "In this land one takes an advantage when andhow one can. I dare say I'm a meddlesome idiot; but I conceived acertain respect for you, if only because of the spirited manner in whichyou resisted my attempts to cure you; and more for the senorita. Now, Idon't think Miss Castro, curious combination of ministering angel,child, and--well, the angel's antithesis, as she evidently is, wouldhave done so much for everybody!"
Dane answered nothing. One cannot rebuke the man one owes one's life to.Ormond, however, had not finished with the subject.
"You crawled off your cot in delirium one night, and I found you gropingamong some papers scattered from your pocket-book about the floor," hesaid. "It required the assistance of two Krooboys to induce you to liedown again, and Miss Castro helped me to pick up the papers. I, however,found this among them first, and considered it well to take charge of itin the meantime. Miss Castro, you have heard, made an excellent nurse."
Dane felt that the surgeon noticed the way his fingers tightened on thelittle photograph handed him; but the man went on, with a smile:
"Your sister, presumably, for one could not help glancing at thepicture. Still, I can't flatter you by saying that I recognize a familylikeness. Therefore--I kept it aside."
Dane thanked him, and Ormond answered lightly:
"The rest of the papers Miss Castro returned to the pocket-book. All youhave to do now is to lie still and recover."
"I will try," D
ane said. "When can I start again?"
Ormond pointed out through the window toward the sea.
"In a week, if you are prudent--in fact, the sooner you start in thatdirection the wiser you will be. This country is not healthy forfull-blooded Englishmen of your description. If you march inland again,cable anybody interested to double your life insurance."
Dane made a negatory gesture, but Ormond anticipated his answer.
"Of course, I hardly expected you would take good advice, but it was myduty to give it. Just now I'll leave you to your own resources, becauseDom Pedro is waiting with the chessmen below. Most gentlemanly oldrascal, and you are indebted to him; but I wouldn't tell him too muchrespecting the supposititious treasure you rambled about if I were you.Henceforward you will have to get better in your own way, because wordhas just been sent me that my niggers are dying by dozens."
He went out, and left Dane staring at the photograph in his hand.Although not improved by long exposure to tropic heat, or the dampnessof the African climate, it had been a good portrait of LilianChatterton, and the eyes that looked out from the faded paper seemed tochallenge the man. On inspecting the dim picture later he decided itmust have been because he remembered them so well. They were clear andsearching, honest above all things, but, as it were, demanding equalsincerity from whoever looked into them; and though perhaps this was dueto the observer's fancy, the whole face seemed to possess a spiritualbeauty. Dane, however, was certainly a little light-headed still, for ashe gazed the face grew scornful.
To most Europeans in that country there comes a time of mental weaknessand black dejection, and Dane's courage had melted before the feverwhich left him unstable as water, and fanciful as a child. Thus it wasthat, in a sudden access of bitterness, he slipped the picture back intoits case. Lilian, he decided, had cruelly misjudged him, and nowdoubtless enjoyed the sunny side of life in the cool British air,careless of the fact that for her sake he risked life and reason in thepestilential steam of Africa.
There was a rustle of draperies, and Bonita Castro swept into the roomwith the grace of movement and carriage which characterizes her mother'srace. There was, however, nothing spiritual about Miss Castro's beauty,which was of the flesh and of the glowing south, appealing to thesenses, delighting the eye; and Dane's pulse throbbed a little faster asshe came toward him with a low cry of pleasure. It was the first time hehad risen from his trestle cot in the adjoining room. Stooping, she heldtoward him a great cluster of the spotless African lilies--which,scented ambrosially, spring up wherever decay is rankest--then sankwith lithe gracefulness into a chair near his side.
"It is very good to see you better, Don Ilton," she said.
"It is the result of your kindness, senorita. Unfortunately, I don'tknow how to thank you----"
"Then you will not try." Miss Castro raised a restraining hand. "We donot leave the sick to die. Even if it had been another, there is alwaysenjoined on us the charity."
Dane had lost his sense of humor, and just then Bonita Castro looked allministering angel, and his attitude expressed rather reverential respectthan personal admiration, which, it is possible, did not please the ladyso well.
"But you have done so much for one who is almost a stranger," hepersisted.
Miss Castro's mood changed swiftly, and spreading out her hands with agesture of amusement, and a smile which Dane fancied most men would havegiven much to win, she was again all a woman, and a very alluring one.
"It is true that you English have not the graceful speech. Are we, then,the mere stranger, Don Ilton? _Carramba!_ One takes pride in what onesave from the fever, and it was on my lips to call you _carino_."
Dane had acquired sufficient knowledge of Castilian in South America toappreciate the possible significance of the substantive; and heafterward remembered that he was not wholly displeased with it.
"You make me a vain man, senorita," he said lightly.
Miss Castro laughed again, and Dane lay silent for a while.
"I am the more indebted to your care because every day is precious, andI must rejoin my comrade as soon as possible," he said at last.
The damask warmth deepened just a trifle in his companion's cheek.
"You two still go on into the forest--why?" she asked.
"Because I am a poor man, and, as you have guessed, my comrade believesthere is treasure waiting up yonder."
Bonita Castro smiled scornfully, and answered him with the assurance ofone stating a definite fact.
"The Senor Maxwell will never bring gold out of the Leopards' country.Two white men have try already and, both of them, they die. You must notgo back there, Don Ilton, nor let your comrade go, though I know he is avery clever and fearless man."
"How do you know that?"
Dane found it hard to conceal his astonishment at her tranquil answer:
"I try if he is fearless on board the steamer. I can use the pistolwell."
"It is fortunate you did not test my courage in the same fashion. Butwas there not a third man?"
Miss Castro's fingers closed viciously, and the questioner experiencedan instinctive shrinking as he saw the hatred in her deep black eyes.
"The third was not a white man, though he call himself so," she said,with a quietness that was ominous. "_Maldito sea el perro!_ To-day againhe infect this factory."
Dane could not help feeling that, unless the gentleman were prudent, hemight have cause to regret his visit to the factory. He was inclined toadmire high-spirited women, but Miss Castro looked more than dangerousjust then; though Dane learned afterward that her hatred wasjustifiable.
Following her glance, he saw a short and very sallow-faced gentleman,neatly dressed in spotless duck, cross the compound below and disappearinto the salt shed, evidently in search of Dom Pedro. There was nothingparticularly noticeable about him; but another taller figure, draped inblue and white cotton and wearing a crimson turban, followed, andsquatted in the hot dust outside the shed. This man was an African, butlighter in color than the seaboard tribes, and his movements remindedDane of those of the midnight assassin. He decided, however, that theresemblance was fanciful.
"Is that the person you mentioned?" he asked. "It is evident that youdislike him. May I ask why?"
Miss Castro appeared to consider, and then answered frankly:
"Why should I not tell you? You are _muy caballero_, and I think, goodfriend of me. He was partner with my father, this Victor Rideau. Theyonce go inland to trade with an Emir, who at that time gather muchplunder of ivory, and perhaps they give their carrier boy the good rifleand cartridge, for the Emir is treacherous. He is very bad man,and--_pobre padre mio!_--when Rideau is go away he put pressure on DomPedro, and demand all his rifle and black carrier boy. What would you?My father he is not desire his throat cut, and he agree. The Emir writesafe conduct and agreement, and sent him back with ivory, but thisRideau he guard the scroll in Arabic, and now always demand the silverfrom my father for fear he denounce him to the authority. One must notsell the black boy, and there is heavy penalty for giving the negro thearm of precision."
Dane grasped the situation, surmising that the Emir in question was onewho had, for a time, successfully defied both British and French. Healso surmised that the Gallic authorities would deal stringently withwhoever had supplied the Moslem soldier with modern weapons at a timewhen it appeared quite possible he would even march upon the coast.Still, he was not sure that very much pressure had been required toconvince Dom Pedro.
Returning to her almost caressing manner, Miss Castro touched his arm:
"Why you need that gold?"
"Gold is generally useful, isn't it?" smiled Dane. "It would help me toearn a little more than my bread when I go back to England."
Bonita Castro laughed, and then grew serious. There was a light in herdark eyes, and her voice grew deeper; and it was only because itappeared necessary that Dane afterward told his comrade part of whatfollowed. Indeed, there was little to relate, but much to be imagined.
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sp; "Is there no other place than England, when all the world is good?" shesaid. "Is not this much better than your mud and snow, and the sight ofthe men with anxious faces groping through the fog? _Vaya!_ You men ofthe English cities, you not know how to live."
The speaker pointed out through the open window, and most men would haveagreed with her in a measure. If the beauty of the fever coast is thatof a whited sepulcher, it is a sufficiently alluring region, and DomPedro's factory stood high and healthily upon the summit of a bluff.Tall palms swaying about it before the sea breeze tossed their emeraldtraceries against transparent blue. In the cottonwoods' shadow beyondthem tall white lilies grew, and the rollers of the southern ocean,flaming dazzlingly, dissolved into spouts of incandescence upon acrescent of silver sand below. The whole scene was flooded with lightand color, and permeated by the languorous spell of the tropics, whichit is not good for white men to linger under.
"It is all very beautiful," he said; "but I have my bread to win."
"You are very modest, Don Ilton. Is there no place for such as you inAfrica? Now I know one who would give much--even a share in the profitsof several factories--for the help of two men he could trust. There willbe more gold to win than you will ever find in the Leopards' country;and there will be the excitement you hunger for. The man who needs theassistance has a cunning enemy. Will you not listen when again he speaksto you?"
Miss Castro leaned slightly forward.
"It is the life you English long for. There would be adventure; muchprofit, I think, too, and--for that you like also--an enemy. He is badenemy of--me. This England of yours is far off, and the wise man he--isit not so?--takes gratefully what the good saints send him. Is it notenough, Don Ilton?"
Dane was not a vain man, but there was a subtle inflection in thewoman's voice which suggested an amplification of the meaning of herlast words. England certainly seemed very far away, Maxwell's project amad one; and Dane remembered that the woman for whose sake he had joinedin it had been ready to think ill of him. His companion was veryalluring, he was weak in mind and body, very grateful to one who hadsaved his life for him, and loath to resume the burden which was partof his birthright as a civilized Englishman. A word, even a gesture,would, it seemed, smooth out many difficulties, and, shaking offresponsibility, he might henceforward live for the day only; but thoughintoxicated by the spell of the tropics and the eyes of his companion,Dane had a memory, and he realized that he stood on the brink of adeclivity. He had seen the end of other Britons who, selling theirbirthright for a few years' indulgence, sank beyond the level of thebeasts. The face of a countrywoman, no longer cold and disdainful, butinnocent and gentle, rose up before him; and the struggle ended.
"It is so much that I do not deserve it," he said humbly, answering herquestion. "I must accomplish the purpose which brought me here, and thengo back to England. Nothing would turn back my comrade."
Miss Castro did not speak for a few moments, but Dane felt that sheunderstood more than he had said. Then she looked at him steadily.
"You are a strange people, but, go when you will, God go with you, DonIlton. Now, at least from my hands, you will take the medicine."
Dane's hand trembled as he held it out for the glass, for the strugglehad left its mark on him; but he felt inclined to resent this climax,which appeared grotesquely ludicrous. Nevertheless, he duly swallowedthe medicine, and resisted an inexplicable impulse which prompted him tosmash the glass. Then, with a wondrous unfolding of filmy draperies, hiscompanion rose languidly, and, it seemed to Dane, melted out of theroom. Almost simultaneously the crouching figure in the dusty compoundrose and vanished too.
Dane decided that it would be well to gather strength with all possiblecelerity, and leave the factory as soon as he was fit to travel in ahammock. Accordingly, in spite of the protests of Dom Pedro, who, afterrepeating in definite form the offer made by his daughter, found himsupplies and carriers, he presently took his leave, and shook hands withMiss Castro beside the waiting hammock at the compound gate. Her mannerhad been a shade more reserved of late, but she spoke with friendlyearnestness when she laid in his hand a tiny object wrought in silverand ivory.
"You will take this for what you call a keep-a-sake, Don Ilton," shesaid. "There is always peril in the bush country, and it was given mymother by a holy man. It has the virtue. If you meet Rideau in theforest, remember he is my enemy and beware of him. And now, senor, thegood saints keep you."
Dane bent over the little olive-tinted fingers, then Amadu helped himinto the hammock, and presently Dom Pedro's factory had faded to a whiteblur against the sparkling sea.
As he journeyed northward Dane had much to ponder over. He regrettedthat he had been unable to secure a closer view of Rideau or his duskyfollower. He fancied he once heard the Frenchman's voice raised angrilyin an altercation with Dom Pedro; but he could learn nothing about thetall negro, who had vanished mysteriously. When the journey was almostaccomplished, and he was recovering strength again, there was addedanother subject for consideration. Searching for the map Maxwell hadgiven him, he failed to find it; but, after the first shock of dismayhad passed, he was almost thankful that time and distance prevented hisreturning to the factory in search of it. Dane, remembering thesurgeon's narrative, felt himself unequal to the task of asking MissCastro what she had done with it. He pushed on, hoping for the best, andthat Maxwell might not ask too many questions.
Maxwell, when he heard the news, sat silent for several minutes.
"We are not beginning well," he then said gravely, "but that is perhapsnot material. It seems to me that the future of the mine will be settledwhen we meet Monsieur Rideau and his lieutenant, as I think we will. Ofcourse it is no use asking where you lost the map."
Dane recognized the significance of the last sentence, and answeredaccordingly.
"If I had possessed that knowledge I should have returned and found it.I have reasons for believing it was in my pocket-book when I left thefactory."
Maxwell glanced at him keenly and smiled.
"After what you told me, I suppose one could expect nothing else fromyou," said he.