CHAPTER XVI
Ah cum began to worry. Each morning his inquiry was properlyanswered: the patient was steadily improving, but none could saywhen he would be strong enough to proceed upon his journey. Thetourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late inSeptember before the tide returned. So, then, fifty gold wasconsiderable; it would carry Ah Cum across four comparatively idlemonths. And because of this hanging gold Ah Cum left many doorsopen to doubt.
Perhaps the doctor, the manager and the girl were in collusion:perhaps they had heard indirectly of the visit paid by Mr.O'Higgins, the American detective, and were waiting against thehour when they could assist the young man in a sudden dash forliberty. Why not? Were not his own sentiments inclined in favour ofthe patient? But fifty gold was fifty gold.
One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock toambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubbyschooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run throughfire. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab,her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. There was only oneclean spot in the picture--the ship's wash (all white) thatfluttered on a line stretched between the two masts. The half-nudebrown bodies of the crew informed Ah Cum that the schooner had comeup from the South Seas. The boiling under her stern, however, toldhim nothing. He was not a sailor. It would not have interested himin the least to learn that the tub ran on two powers--wind and oil.
Sampans with fish and fruit and vegetables swarmed about, whileoverhead gulls wheeled and swooped and circled. One of the sampanswas hailed, and a rope-ladder was lowered. Shortly a man descendedlaboriously. He was dressed immaculately in a suit of heavyShantung silk. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed_sola topee_--sun-helmet. He turned and shouted some orders to theKanaka crew, then nodded to the sampan's coolies, who bore upon thesweeps and headed for the Sha-mien.
Ah Cum turned to his own affairs, blissfully ignorant that this tubwas, within forty-eight hours, to cost him fifty gold. What hadshifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party ofthree who were coming down the packet gang-plank. The trioexhibited that indecisive air with which Ah Cum was tolerablyfamiliar. They were looking for a guide. Forthwith he presented hiscard.
The Reverend Henry Dolby had come to see China; for that purpose hehad, with his wife and daughter, traversed land and sea to theextent of ten thousand miles. Actually, he had come all thisdistance simply to fulfil a certain clause in his contract withFate, to be in Canton on this particular day.
Meantime, as the doctor was splitting his breakfast orange, heheard a commotion in his office, two rooms removed: volleys ofpidgin English, one voice in protest, the other dominant. This wasfollowed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-roomdoor was flung open.
The doctor jumped to his feet. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!"
"Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know.
"Tom! Hey, Tom!" The Chinese cook thrust his head into the diningroom. "Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast."
"Aw light!"
The two old friends held each other off at arms' length forinspection; this proving satisfactory, they began to prod andpummel one another affectionately. No hair to fall awry, no powderto displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. Women never throwthemselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance andthe damage perfectly.
They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which hebegan munching.
"Come up by the packet?"
"No; came up with _The Tigress_."
"_The Tigress!_" The doctor laughed. "You'd have hit it off betterif you'd called her _The Sow_. I'll bet you haven't given her abucket of paint in three years. Oh, I know. You give her a daubhere and there where the rust shows. A man as rich as you are oughtto have a thousand-ton yacht."
"Good enough for me. She's plenty clean below."
"I'll bet she still smells to heaven with sour coconut. Bring yourliveralong?"
"I sometimes wonder if I have any--if it isn't the hole where itwas that aches."
"You look pretty fit."
"Oh, a shave and a clean suit will do a lot. It's a pity youwouldn't give me the prescription instead of the medicine, so Icould have it filled nearer home."
"I'd never set eyes on you again. You'd be coming up to Hong-Kong,but you'd be cutting out Canton. I'll bet you've been in Hong-Kongthese two weeks already, and never a line to me."
"Didn't want any lectures spoiling a good time."
"How long will you be here?"
"To-morrow night. It's sixteen days down, with _The Tigress_. TheSouth China will be dropping to a dead calm, and I want to usecanvas as much as I can. You simply can't get good oil down there,so I must husband the few drams I carry."
"What a life!"
"No worse than yours."
"But I'm a poor man. I'm always shy the price of the ticket home.You're rich. You could return to civilization and have a good timeall the rest of your days."
"Two weeks in Hong-Kong," replied McClintock, "is more thanenough."
"But, Lord, man!--don't you ever get lonesome?"
"Don't you?"
"I'm too busy."
"So am I. I am carrying back a hundred new books and forty newrecords for the piano-player. Whenever I feel particularlygregarious, I take the launch and run over to Copeley's and playpoker for a couple of days. Lonesomeness isn't my worry. I can'tkeep a good man beyond three pay-days. They want some fun, andthere isn't any. No other white people within twenty miles. I'vecombed Hong-Kong. They all balk because there aren't anypetticoats. I won't have a beachcomber on the island. The job iseasy. The big pay strikes them; but when they find there's no placeto spend it, good-bye!"
Tom the cook came in with the chops and the potatoes--the doctor'sdinner--and McClintock fell to with a gusto which suggested thatthere was still some liver under his ribs. The doctor smoked hispipe thoughtfully.
"Mac, did you ever run across a missioner by the name of Enschede?"
"Enschede?" McClintock stared at the ceiling. "Sounds as if I hadheard it, but I can't place it this minute. Certainly I never methim. Why?"
"I was just wondering. You say you need a man. Just how particularare you? Will he have to bring recommendations?"
"He will not. His face will be all I need. Have you got someone inmind for me?"
"Finish your breakfast and I'll tell you the story." Ten minuteslater, the doctor, having marshalled all his facts chronologically,began his tale. He made it brief. "Of course, I haven't the leastevidence that the boy has done anything wrong; it's what I'd call ahunch; piecing this and that together."
"Are you friendly toward him?" asked McClintock, passing a finecigar across the table.
"Yes. The boy doesn't know it, but I dug into his trunk forsomething to identify him and stumbled upon some manuscripts.Pretty good stuff, some of it. The subject matter was generallyworthless, but the handling was well done. You're alwayscomplaining that you can't keep anybody more than three months. Ifmy conjectures are right, this boy would stay there indefinitely."
"I don't know," said McClintock.
"But you said you weren't particular. Moreover, he's a YaleUniversity man, and he'd be good company."
"What's he know about copra and native talk?"
"Nothing, probably; but I'll wager he'll pick it all up fastenough."
"A fugitive."
"But that's the point--I don't know. But supposing he is? Supposinghe made but one misstep? Your island would be a haven of security.I know something about men."
"I agree to that. But it strikes me there's a nigger in thewoodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. Why are you so anxious?"
"Oh, if you can't see your way...."
"I'll have a look-see before I make any decision. It's youreagerness that bothers me. You seem to want this chap out ofCanton."
The doctor hesitated, puffing his tobacco hastily. "There's a youngwoman."
"I rememb
er now!" interrupted McClintock. "This Enschede--themissioner. One of his converted Kanakas dropped in one day. Hecalled Enschede the Bellower. Seems Enschede's daughter ran awayand left him, and he's combing the islands in search of her. He's ahundred miles sou'-east of me."
"Well, this young lady I was about to describe," said the doctor,"is Enschede's daughter."
McClintock whistled. "Oho!" he said. "So she got away as far asthis, eh? But where does she come in?"
The doctor recounted that side of the tale. "And so I want the boyout of the way," he concluded. "She in intensely impressionable andromantic, and probably she is giving the chap qualities he doesn'tpossess. All the talk in the world would not describe Ruth. Youhave to see her to understand."
"And what are you going to do with her, supposing I'm fool enoughto take this boy with me?"
"Send her to my people, in case she cannot find her aunt."
"I see. Afraid there'll be a love-affair. Well, I'll have a look-seeat this young De Maupassant. I know faces. Down in my part of theworld it's all a man has to go by. But if he's in bed, how the devilis he going with me, supposing I decide to hire him? The mudhookcomes up to-morrow night."
"I can get him aboard all right. A sea voyage under sail will bethe making of him."
"Let's toddle over to the Victoria at once. I'll do anything inreason for you, old top; but no pig in a poke. Enschede's daughter.Things happen out this way. That's a queer yarn."
"It's a queer girl."
"With a face as square and flat as a bottle of gin. I know theDutch." He sent the doctor a sly glance.
"She's the most beautiful creature you ever set eyes on," said thedoctor, warmly. "That's the whole difficulty. I want her to getforward, to set her among people who'll understand what to do withher."
"Ship her back to her father"--sagely.
"No. I tell you, that girl would jump into the sea, rather.Something happened down there, and probably I'll never know what.Every time you mention the father, she turns into marble. No; she'dnever go back. Mac, she's the honestest human being I ever saw orheard of; and at the same time she is velvet over steel. And yet,she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to anyplausible, attractive scoundrel. That's why I'm so anxious to gether to a haven."
"Come along, then. You've got me interested and curious. If youwere ten years younger, you'd have me wondering."
The doctor did not reply to this rather ambiguous statement, butpushed back his chair and signed to McClintock to follow. Theyfound Ruth reading to Spurlock, whose shoulders and head werepropped by pillows.
McClintock did not exaggerate his ability to read faces. It was hisparticular hobby, and the leisure he had to apply to it had givenhim a remarkable appraising eye. Within ten minutes he had readmuch more than had greeted his eye. A wave of pity went overhim--pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. The poor oldimbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever hehad seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of hergifts.
As for the patient, his decision was immediate. Here was no crookedsoul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, butfundamentally honest. Given time and the right environment, and hewould outgrow these defects. Confidence in himself would strengthenhim. If the boy had done anything wrong back there in the States,his would be the brand of conscience to pay him out in full. With alittle more meat on him, he would be handsome.
"My friend here," said McClintock, "tells me you are looking for ajob."
"Yes."
"Well, I've a job open; but I don't want you to get the wrong ideaof it. In the first place, it will be damnably dull. You won'toften see white folks. There will be long stretches of idleness,heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. Agood deal of the food will be in tins. You'll live to hate chicken;and the man in you will rise up and demand strong drink. But nobodydrinks on my island unless I offer it, which is seldom. If there isany drinking, I'll do it."
Spurlock smiled at the doctor.
"He'll not trouble you on the liquor side, Mac."
_Distinctive Pictures Corporation. The Ragged Edge._A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY.]
"So much the better. You will have a bungalow to yourself,"continued McClintock, "and your morning meal will be your ownaffair. But luncheon and dinners you will sit at my table. I'm astickler about clothes and clean chins. How you dress when you'reloafing will be no concern of mine; but fresh twill or Shantung,when you dine with me, collar and tie. If you like books and music,we'll get along."
"Then you are taking me on?" Spurlock's eyes grew soft like thoseof a dog that, expecting the whip, saw only the kindly hand.
"I am going to give you a try."
"When will you want me?"--with pitiful eagerness. "How shall I getto you?"
"My yacht is in the river. The doctor here says he can get youaboard to-morrow night. But understand me thoroughly: I am offeringyou this job because my friend wants to help you. I don't knowanything about you. I am gambling on his intuition." McClintockpreferred to put it thus.
"To-morrow night!" said Spurlock, in a wondering whisper. Out ofthe beaten track, far from the trails of men! He relaxed.
The doctor reached over and laid his hand upon Spurlock's heart."Thumping; but that's only excitement. You'll do."
Then he looked at Ruth. Her face expressed nothing. That was one ofthe mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she hadalways at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calmthat no Occidental trick could dislodge. He could not tell by thelook of her whether she was glad or sorry that presently she wouldbe free.
"I have good news for you. If you do not find your aunt, my peoplewill take you under wing until you can stand on your own."
"That is very kind of you," she acknowledged. The lips of the masktwisted upward into a smile.
The doctor missed the expression of terror and dismay that flittedacross Spurlock's face.
Once they were below, McClintock turned upon the doctor. "I canreadily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a churchmouse."
"What?" said the doctor, whose thoughts were in something of aturmoil. "What's that?"
"The old human cry of something for nothing; but with you it is inreverse. You are always doing something for nothing, and that iswhy I love you. If I offered you half of my possessions, you'ddoubtless wallop me on the jaw. To be with you is the best moraltonic I know. You tonic my liver and you tonic my soul. It is goodsometimes to walk with a man who can look God squarely in the face,as you can."
"But wasn't I right? That pair?"
"I'll take the boy; he'll be a novelty. Amiable and good-looking.That's the kind, my friend, that always fall soft. No matter whatthey do, always someone to bolster them up, to lend them money, andto coddle them."
"But, man, this chap hasn't fallen soft."
"Ay, but he will. And here's the proof. You and the girl have madeit soft for him, and I'm going to make it soft for him. But what Ido is based upon the fact that he is one of those individuals whoare conscience-driven. Conscience drove him to this side of theworld, to this bed. It drives him to my island, where I can studyhim to my heart's content. He believes that he is leaving thisconscience behind; and I want to watch his disillusion on thisparticular point. Oh, don't worry. I shall always be kind to him; Isha'n't bait him. Only, he'll be an interesting specimen for me toobserve. But ship that girl east as soon as you can."
"Why?"
McClintock put a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "Because she's afire-opal, and to the world at large they bring bad luck."
"Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? TheDawn Pearl!"
McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. He knew what he knew.
* * * * *
Spurlock possessed that extraordinary condition of the mind whichis called New England conscience. Buried under various ancestralsixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action andbewildering variety of f
lesh-pots, it was still alive to the extentthat it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all itspeculiar force. The Protestant Flagellant, who whipped his soulrather than his body, who made self-denial the rack and the boot,who believed that on Sunday it was sacrilegious to smile,blasphemous to laugh! Spurlock had gone back spiritually threehundred years. In the matter of his conscience he was primitive;and for an educated man to become primitive is to become somethingof a child.
From midnight until morning he was now left alone. He hadsufficient strength to wait upon himself. During the previous nighthe had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughtshad raced in an endless circle--action without progress. He wasreaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harryingconscience. He thought rationally; that is to say, he thoughtclearly, as a child thinks clearly. The primitive superstition ofhis Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of hiseducation disintegrated. The idea of Ruth as a talisman againstmisfortune--which he now recognized as a sick man's idea--faded ashis appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. But in itsstead--toward morning--there appeared another idea which appealed tohim as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to hisartistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. Hewas and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually hewould be confounding his actual with his imaginary self.
To surrender himself to the law, to face trial and imprisonment,was out of the question. Let the law put its hand on hisshoulder--if it could! But at present he was at liberty, and hepurposed to remain in that state. His conscience never told him togo back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard tothe deed itself. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; herequired no prison bars to accentuate this misery.
Something, then, to appease the wrath of God; something to bluntthis persistent agony. It was not necessary to appease the wrath ofhuman society; it was necessary only to appease that of God for thebroken Commandment. To divide the agony into two spheres so thatone would mitigate the other. In fine, to marry Ruth (if she wouldconsent) as a punishment for what he had done! To whip his soul solong as he lived, but to let his body go free! To provide for her,to work and dream for her, to be tender and thoughtful and loyal,to shelter and guard her, to become accountable to God for herfuture.
It was the sing-song girl idea, magnified many diameters. In thishour its colossal selfishness never occurred to him.
So, then, when McClintock offered the coveted haven, Spurlockbecame afire to dramatize the idea.
"Ruth!"
She had gone to the door, aimlessly, without purpose. All thesombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of herthoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her. She did notwant to go to the doctor's people; however kindly that might be,they would be only curious strangers. She would never return to herfather; that resolution was final. What she actually wanted was thepresent state of affairs to continue indefinitely.
That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in herlife would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships(like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a newcircle. All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her couragewas merely a shell to hide the lack. To have the present lengtheninto years! But in a few hours she would be upon her way, farlonelier than she had ever been. As Spurlock called her name, shepaused and turned.
"Dawn Pearl!... come here!"
She moved to the side of the bed. "What is it?"
"Can't you see? Together, down there; you and I!... As my wife!Both of us, never to be lonely again!... Will you marry me, Ruth?"
As many a wiser woman had done, Ruth mistook thrilling eagernessfor love. Love and companionship. A fire enveloped her, a firewhich was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth,blotting out the menace of the world. She forgot her vital hatredof the South Seas; she forgot that McClintock's would not differ ajot from the old island she had for ever left behind her; sheforgot all the doctor's lessons and warnings.
She would marry him. Because of the thought of love andcompanionship? No. Because here was the haven for which she hadbeen blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father'srights in her--the right to drag her back. The annihilation of theTerror which fascinated her and troubled her dreams o' nights.
"You want me, then?" she said.
"Oh, yes!--for always!"
He took her hands and pressed them upon his thrumming heart; and inthis attitude they remained for some time.
Something forbade him to draw her toward him and seal the compactwith a kiss. Down under the incalculable selfishness of thepenitent child there was the man's uneasy recollection of Judas. Hecould not kiss Ruth.