II
Recovering himself with a slight start Lingard gave the order toextinguish all the lights in the brig. Now the transfer of the crew fromthe yacht had been effected there was every advantage in the darkness.He gave the order from instinct, it being the right thing to do in thecircumstances. His thoughts were in the cabin of his brig, where therewas a woman waiting. He put his hand over his eyes, collecting himselfas if before a great mental effort. He could hear about him the excitedmurmurs of the white men whom in the morning he had so ardently desiredto have safe in his keeping. He had them there now; but accident,ill-luck, a cursed folly, had tricked him out of the success of hisplan. He would have to go in and talk to Mrs. Travers. The idea dismayedhim. Of necessity he was not one of those men who have the mastery ofexpression. To liberate his soul was for him a gigantic undertaking,a matter of desperate effort, of doubtful success. "I must have itout with her," he murmured to himself as though at the prospect ofa struggle. He was uncertain of himself, of her; he was uncertain ofeverything and everybody; but he was very certain he wanted to look ather.
At the moment he turned to the door of the cabin both flares went outtogether and the black vault of the night upheld above the brig by thefierce flames fell behind him and buried the deck in sudden darkness.The buzz of strange voices instantly hummed louder with a startled note."Hallo!"--"Can't see a mortal thing"--"Well, what next?"--insisted avoice--"I want to know what next?"
Lingard checked himself ready to open the door and waited absurdly forthe answer as though in the hope of some suggestion. "What's up withyou? Think yourself lucky," said somebody.--"It's all very well--forto-night," began the voice.--"What are you fashing yourself for?"remonstrated the other, reasonably, "we'll get home right enough."--"Iam not so sure; the second mate he says--" "Never mind what he says;that 'ere man who has got this brig will see us through. The owner'swife will talk to him--she will. Money can do a lot." The two voicescame nearer, and spoke more distinctly, close behind Lingard. "Supposethem blooming savages set fire to the yacht. What's to preventthem?"--"And suppose they do. This 'ere brig's good enough to get awayin. Ain't she? Guns and all. We'll get home yet all right. What do yousay, John?"
"I say nothing and care less," said a third voice, peaceful and faint.
"D'you mean to say, John, you would go to the bottom as soon as youwould go home? Come now!"--"To the bottom," repeated the wan voice,composedly. "Aye! That's where we all are going to, in one way oranother. The way don't matter."
"Ough! You would give the blues to the funny man of a blooming circus.What would my missus say if I wasn't to turn up never at all?"--"Shewould get another man; there's always plenty of fools about." A quietand mirthless chuckle was heard in the pause of shocked silence.Lingard, with his hand on the door, remained still. Further off a growlburst out: "I do hate to be chucked in the dark aboard a strange ship.I wonder where they keep their fresh water. Can't get any sense out ofthem silly niggers. We don't seem to be more account here than a lot ofcattle. Likely as not we'll have to berth on this blooming quarter-deckfor God knows how long." Then again very near Lingard the first voicesaid, deadened discreetly--"There's something curious about this herebrig turning up sudden-like, ain't there? And that skipper of her--now?What kind of a man is he--anyhow?"
"Oh, he's one of them skippers going about loose. The brig's his own, Iam thinking. He just goes about in her looking for what he may pick uphonest or dishonest. My brother-in-law has served two commissions inthese seas, and was telling me awful yarns about what's going on in themGod-forsaken parts. Likely he lied, though. Them man-of-war's men area holy terror for yarns. Bless you, what do I care who this skipper is?Let him do his best and don't trouble your head. You won't see him againin your life once we get clear."
"And can he do anything for the owner?" asked the first voiceagain.--"Can he! We can do nothing--that's one thing certain. The ownermay be lying clubbed to death this very minute for all we know. By allaccounts these savages here are a crool murdering lot. Mind you, I amsorry for him as much as anybody."--"Aye, aye," muttered the other,approvingly.--"He may not have been ready, poor man," began again thereasonable voice. Lingard heard a deep sigh.--"If there's anything ascan be done for him, the owner's wife she's got to fix it up with this'ere skipper. Under Providence he may serve her turn."
Lingard flung open the cabin door, entered, and, with a slam, shut thedarkness out.
"I am, under Providence, to serve your turn," he said after standingvery still for a while, with his eyes upon Mrs. Travers. The brig'sswing-lamp lighted the cabin with an extraordinary brilliance. Mrs.Travers had thrown back her hood. The radiant brightness of the littleplace enfolded her so close, clung to her with such force that it mighthave been part of her very essence. There were no shadows on her face;it was fiercely lighted, hermetically closed, of impenetrable fairness.
Lingard looked in unconscious ecstasy at this vision, so amazing that itseemed to have strayed into his existence from beyond the limits ofthe conceivable. It was impossible to guess her thoughts, to know herfeelings, to understand her grief or her joy. But she knew all thatwas at the bottom of his heart. He had told her himself, impelled bya sudden thought, going to her in darkness, in desperation, in absurdhope, in incredible trust. He had told her what he had told no oneon earth, except perhaps, at times, himself, but without words--lessclearly. He had told her and she had listened in silence. She hadlistened leaning over the rail till at last her breath was on hisforehead. He remembered this and had a moment of soaring pride and ofunutterable dismay. He spoke, with an effort.
"You've heard what I said just now? Here I am."
"Do you expect me to say something?" she asked. "Is it necessary? Is itpossible?"
"No," he answered. "It is said already. I know what you expect from me.Everything."
"Everything," she repeated, paused, and added much lower, "It is thevery least." He seemed to lose himself in thought.
"It is extraordinary," he reflected half aloud, "how I dislike thatman." She leaned forward a little.
"Remember those two men are innocent," she began.
"So am I--innocent. So is everybody in the world. Have you ever met aman or a woman that was not? They've got to take their chances all thesame."
"I expect you to be generous," she said.
"To you?"
"Well--to me. Yes--if you like to me alone."
"To you alone! And you know everything!" His voice dropped. "You wantyour happiness."
She made an impatient movement and he saw her clench the hand that waslying on the table.
"I want my husband back," she said, sharply.
"Yes. Yes. It's what I was saying. Same thing," he muttered with strangeplacidity. She looked at him searchingly. He had a large simplicity thatfilled one's vision. She found herself slowly invaded by this masterfulfigure. He was not mediocre. Whatever he might have been he was notmediocre. The glamour of a lawless life stretched over him like the skyover the sea down on all sides to an unbroken horizon. Within, he movedvery lonely, dangerous and romantic. There was in him crime, sacrifice,tenderness, devotion, and the madness of a fixed idea. She thought withwonder that of all the men in the world he was indeed the one she knewthe best and yet she could not foresee the speech or the act of the nextminute. She said distinctly:
"You've given me your confidence. Now I want you to give me the life ofthese two men. The life of two men whom you do not know, whom to-morrowyou will forget. It can be done. It must be done. You cannot refuse themto me." She waited.
"Why can't I refuse?" he whispered, gloomily, without looking up.
"You ask!" she exclaimed. He made no sign. He seemed at a loss forwords.
"You ask . . . Ah!" she cried. "Don't you see that I have no kingdoms toconquer?"