Complete Works of Robert Louis Stevenson (Illustrated) (277 page)

‘The beak ain’t as black as he’s sometimes pynted,’ observed Huish, humorously.

‘Well, one got the law after a fashion,’ said Attwater. ‘One had to be a number of things. It was sometimes rather a bore.’

‘I should smile!’ said Davis. ‘Rather lively, I should think!’

‘I dare say we mean the same thing,’ said Attwater. ‘However, one way or another, one got it knocked into their heads that they MUST work, and they DID... until the Lord took them!’

‘‘Ope you made ‘em jump,’ said Huish.

‘When it was necessary, Mr Whish, I made them jump,’ said Attwater.

‘You bet you did,’ cried the captain. He was a good deal flushed, but not so much with wine as admiration; and his eyes drank in the huge proportions of the other with delight. ‘You bet you did, and you bet that I can see you doing it! By God, you’re a man, and you can say I said so.’

‘Too good of you, I’m sure,’ said Attwater.

‘Did you — did you ever have crime here?’ asked Herrick, breaking his silence with a pungent voice.

‘Yes,’ said Attwater, ‘we did.’

‘And how did you handle that, sir?’ cried the eager captain.

‘Well, you see, it was a queer case,’ replied Attwater, ‘it was a case that would have puzzled Solomon. Shall I tell it you? yes?’

The captain rapturously accepted.

‘Well,’ drawled Attwater, ‘here is what it was. I dare say you know two types of natives, which may be called the obsequious and the sullen? Well, one had them, the types themselves, detected in the fact; and one had them together. Obsequiousness ran out of the first like wine out of a bottle, sullenness congested in the second. Obsequiousness was all smiles; he ran to catch your eye, he loved to gabble; and he had about a dozen words of beach English, and an eighth-of-an-inch veneer of Christianity. Sullens was industrious; a big down-looking bee. When he was spoken to, he answered with a black look and a shrug of one shoulder, but the thing would be done. I don’t give him to you for a model of manners; there was nothing showy about Sullens; but he was strong and steady, and ungraciously obedient. Now Sullens got into trouble; no matter how; the regulations of the place were broken, and he was punished accordingly — without effect. So, the next day, and the next, and the day after, till I began to be weary of the business, and Sullens (I am afraid) particularly so. There came a day when he was in fault again, for the — oh, perhaps the thirtieth time; and he rolled a dull eye upon me, with a spark in it, and appeared to speak. Now the regulations of the place are formal upon one point: we allow no explanations; none are received, none allowed to be offered. So one stopped him instantly; but made a note of the circumstance. The next day, he was gone from the settlement. There could be nothing more annoying; if the labour took to running away, the fishery was wrecked. There are sixty miles of this island, you see, all in length like the Queen’s Highway; the idea of pursuit in such a place was a piece of single-minded childishness, which one did not entertain. Two days later, I made a discovery; it came in upon me with a flash that Sullens had been unjustly punished from beginning to end, and the real culprit throughout had been Obsequiousness. The native who talks, like the woman who hesitates, is lost. You set him talking and lying; and he talks, and lies, and watches your face to see if he has pleased you; till at last, out comes the truth! It came out of Obsequiousness in the regular course. I said nothing to him; I dismissed him; and late as it was, for it was already night, set off to look for Sullens. I had not far to go: about two hundred yards up the island, the moon showed him to me. He was hanging in a cocoa palm — I’m not botanist enough to tell you how — but it’s the way, in nine cases out of ten, these natives commit suicide. His tongue was out, poor devil, and the birds had got at him; I spare you details, he was an ugly sight! I gave the business six good hours of thinking in this verandah. My justice had been made a fool of; I don’t suppose that I was ever angrier. Next day, I had the conch sounded and all hands out before sunrise. One took one’s gun, and led the way, with Obsequiousness. He was very talkative; the beggar supposed that all was right now he had confessed; in the old schoolboy phrase, he was plainly ‘sucking up’ to me; full of protestations of goodwill and good behaviour; to which one answered one really can’t remember what. Presently the tree came in sight, and the hanged man. They all burst out lamenting for their comrade in the island way, and Obsequiousness was the loudest of the mourners. He was quite genuine; a noxious creature, without any consciousness of guilt. Well, presently — to make a long story short — one told him to go up the tree. He stared a bit, looked at one with a trouble in his eye, and had rather a sickly smile; but went. He was obedient to the last; he had all the pretty virtues, but the truth was not in him. So soon as he was up, he looked down, and there was the rifle covering him; and at that he gave a whimper like a dog. You could bear a pin drop; no more keening now. There they all crouched upon the ground, with bulging eyes; there was he in the tree top, the colour of the lead; and between was the dead man, dancing a bit in the air. He was obedient to the last, recited his crime, recommended his soul to God. And then...’

Attwater paused, and Herrick, who had been listening attentively, made a convulsive movement which upset his glass.

‘And then?’ said the breathless captain.

‘Shot,’ said Attwater. ‘They came to ground together.’

Herrick sprang to his feet with a shriek and an insensate gesture.

‘It was a murder,’ he screamed. ‘A cold-hearted, bloody-minded murder! You monstrous being! Murderer and hypocrite — murderer and hypocrite — murderer and hypocrite — ’ he repeated, and his tongue stumbled among the words.

The captain was by him in a moment. ‘Herrick!’ he cried, ‘behave yourself! Here, don’t be a blame’ fool!’

Herrick struggled in his embrace like a frantic child, and suddenly bowing his face in his hands, choked into a sob, the first of many, which now convulsed his body silently, and now jerked from him indescribable and meaningless sounds.

‘Your friend appears over-excited,’ remarked Attwater, sitting unmoved but all alert at table.

‘It must be the wine,’ replied the captain. ‘He ain’t no drinking man, you see. I — I think I’ll take him away. A walk’ll sober him up, I guess.’

He led him without resistance out of the verandah and into the night, in which they soon melted; but still for some time, as they drew away, his comfortable voice was to be heard soothing and remonstrating, and Herrick answering, at intervals, with the mechanical noises of hysteria.

‘‘E’s like a bloomin’ poultry yard!’ observed Huish, helping himself to wine (of which he spilled a good deal) with gentlemanly ease. ‘A man should learn to beyave at table,’ he added.

‘Rather bad form, is it not?’ said Attwater. ‘Well, well, we are left tete-a-tete. A glass of wine with you, Mr Whish!’

CHAPTER 10. THE OPEN DOOR

The captain and Herrick meanwhile turned their back upon the lights in Attwater’s verandah, and took a direction towards the pier and the beach of the lagoon.

The isle, at this hour, with its smooth floor of sand, the pillared roof overhead, and the prevalent illumination of the lamps, wore an air of unreality like a deserted theatre or a public garden at midnight. A man looked about him for the statues and tables. Not the least air of wind was stirring among the palms, and the silence was emphasised by the continuous clamour of the surf from the seashore, as it might be of traffic in the next street.

Still talking, still soothing him, the captain hurried his patient on, brought him at last to the lagoon-side, and leading him down the beach, laved his head and face with the tepid water. The paroxysm gradually subsided, the sobs became less convulsive and then ceased; by an odd but not quite unnatural conjunction, the captain’s soothing current of talk died away at the same time and by proportional steps, and the pair remained sunk in silence. The lagoon broke at their feet in petty wavelets, and with a sound as delicate as a whisper; stars of all degrees looked down on their own images in that vast mirror; and the more angry colour of the Farallone’s riding lamp burned in the middle distance. For long they continued to gaze on the scene before them, and hearken anxiously to the rustle and tinkle of that miniature surf, or the more distant and loud reverberations from the outer coast. For long speech was denied them; and when the words came at last, they came to both simultaneously. ‘Say, Herrick...’the captain was beginning.

But Herrick, turning swiftly towards his companion, bent him down with the eager cry: ‘Let’s up anchor, captain, and to sea!’

‘Where to, my son?’ said the captain. ‘Up anchor’s easy saying. But where to?’

‘To sea,’ responded Herrick. ‘The sea’s big enough! To sea — away from this dreadful island and that, oh! that sinister man!’

‘Oh, we’ll see about that,’ said Davis. ‘You brace up, and we’ll see about that. You’re all run down, that’s what’s wrong with you; you’re all nerves, like Jemimar; you’ve got to brace up good and be yourself again, and then we’ll talk.’

‘To sea,’ reiterated Herrick, ‘to sea tonight — now — this moment!’

‘It can’t be, my son,’ replied the captain firmly. ‘No ship of mine puts to sea without provisions, you can take that for settled.’

‘You don’t seem to understand,’ said Herrick. ‘The whole thing is over, I tell you. There is nothing to do here, when he knows all. That man there with the cat knows all; can’t you take it in?’

‘All what?’ asked the captain, visibly discomposed. ‘Why, he received us like a perfect gentleman and treated us real handsome, until you began with your foolery — and I must say I seen men shot for less, and nobody sorry! What more do you expect anyway?’

Herrick rocked to and fro upon the sand, shaking his head.

‘Guying us,’ he said, ‘he was guying us — only guying us; it’s all we’re good for.’

‘There was one queer thing, to be sure,’ admitted the captain, with a misgiving of the voice; ‘that about the sherry. Damned if I caught on to that. Say, Herrick, you didn’t give me away?’

‘Oh! give you away!’ repeated Herrick with weary, querulous scorn. ‘What was there to give away? We’re transparent; we’ve got rascal branded on us: detected rascal — detected rascal! Why, before he came on board, there was the name painted out, and he saw the whole thing. He made sure we would kill him there and then, and stood guying you and Huish on the chance. He calls that being frightened! Next he had me ashore; a fine time I had! THE TWO WOLVES, he calls you and Huish. — WHAT IS THE PUPPY DOING WITH THE TWO WOLVES? he asked. He showed me his pearls; he said they might be dispersed before morning, and ALL HUNG BY A HAIr — and smiled as he said it, such a smile! O, it’s no use, I tell you! He knows all, he sees through all; we only make him laugh with our pretences — he looks at us and laughs like God!’

There was a silence. Davis stood with contorted brows, gazing into the night.

‘The pearls?’ he said suddenly. ‘He showed them to you? he has them?’

‘No, he didn’t show them; I forgot: only the safe they were in,’ said Herrick. ‘But you’ll never get them!’

‘I’ve two words to say to that,’ said the captain.

‘Do you think he would have been so easy at table, unless he was prepared?’ cried Herrick. ‘The servants were both armed. He was armed himself; he always is; he told me. You will never deceive his vigilance. Davis, I know it! It’s all up; all up. There’s nothing for it, there’s nothing to be done: all gone: life, honour, love. Oh, my God, my God, why was I born?’

Another pause followed upon this outburst.

The captain put his hands to his brow.

‘Another thing!’ he broke out. ‘Why did he tell you all this? Seems like madness to me!’

Herrick shook his head with gloomy iteration. ‘You wouldn’t understand if I were to tell you,’ said he.

‘I guess I can understand any blame’ thing that you can tell me,’ said the captain.

‘Well, then, he’s a fatalist,’ said Herrick.

‘What’s that, a fatalist?’ said Davis.

‘Oh, it’s a fellow that believes a lot of things,’ said Herrick, ‘believes that his bullets go true; believes that all falls out as God chooses, do as you like to prevent it; and all that.’

‘Why, I guess I believe right so myself,’ said Davis.

‘You do?’ said Herrick.

‘You bet I do!’ says Davis.

Herrick shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, you must be a fool,’ said he, and he leaned his head upon his knees.

The captain stood biting his hands.

‘There’s one thing sure,’ he said at last. ‘I must get Huish out of that. HE’S not fit to hold his end up with a man like you describe.’

And he turned to go away. The words had been quite simple; not so the tone; and the other was quick to catch it.

‘Davis!’ he cried, ‘no! Don’t do it. Spare ME, and don’t do it — spare yourself, and leave it alone — for God’s sake, for your children’s sake!’

His voice rose to a passionate shrillness; another moment, and he might be overheard by their not distant victim. But Davis turned on him with a savage oath and gesture; and the miserable young man rolled over on his face on the sand, and lay speechless and helpless.

The captain meanwhile set out rapidly for Attwater’s house. As he went, he considered with himself eagerly, his thoughts racing. The man had understood, he had mocked them from the beginning; he would teach him to make a mockery of John Davis! Herrick thought him a god; give him a second to aim in, and the god was overthrown. He chuckled as he felt the butt of his revolver. It should be done now, as he went in. From behind? It was difficult to get there. From across the table? No, the captain preferred to shoot standing, so as you could be sure to get your hand upon your gun. The best would be to summon Huish, and when Attwater stood up and turned — ah, then would be the moment. Wrapped in his ardent prefiguration of events, the captain posted towards the house with his head down.

‘Hands up! Halt!’ cried the voice of Attwater.

And the captain, before he knew what he was doing, had obeyed. The surprise was complete and irremediable. Coming on the top crest of his murderous intentions, he had walked straight into an ambuscade, and now stood, with his hands impotently lifted, staring at the verandah.