Bindloss Harold
For Jacinta
"You're keeping me talking while they play some trick on me," he said. "All right! In another moment you'll be sorry."
The pistol went up, and Austin set his lips while a little shiver of dismay ran through him. The ladder he had come up by was some distance away, the wheel-house, at least, as far, and he stood clear in the moonlight, realising that the first move he made would probably lead to Jefferson squeezing the trigger. Then, with sudden bitterness, he remembered what, it seemed, was in his blood, and felt astonished that he should be troubled by physical fear. It would be a swifter and cleaner end if his comrade killed him there. That consideration, however, only appealed to his reason, and the reflection came that Jefferson would probably never shake off the recollection of what he had done; and, knowing it was safest, he braced himself to stand motionless, while the perspiration dripped from him, steadily eyeing the fever-crazed man.
"If you will let me tell you why we are steaming west it would save a good deal of trouble," he said, as soothingly as he could, though his voice shook. "You see, you were too sick to understand, and you're not very well yet."
Jefferson, somewhat to his astonishment, seemed willing to listen, but he was, unfortunately, far from the side of the bridge below which Austin surmised that Tom was crouching. He risked a glance round, but the helmsman evidently dare not leave the wheel-house, for which Austin could not blame him, and the Spaniards stood clustered together gazing up at them from below. Austin decided that if he signed or called to them Jefferson would use the pistol, though he fancied that one of them was trying to make him understand something.
Then suddenly a shadowy form glided out from behind the wheel-house, where Jefferson could not see it. There was a rush of feet, and a spring, and Jefferson went down heavily with another man, who wound his arms round him. They rolled against the bridge rails, and a breathless voice called to Austin.
"Get hold of the pistol!" it said.
Austin wrenched it from his comrade; men came scrambling up the ladder, and in another moment or two they had Jefferson helpless, and set about carrying him to his room. When they laid him in his berth his strength seemed to suddenly melt away, and he lay limp and still, only babbling incoherently. Austin ventured to give him a sedative, and then, leaving Wall-eye to watch him, went out on deck. Tom, who was waiting for him, made a little deprecatory gesture.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Austin, but he never came near my side of the bridge," he said. "If I had got up he'd have dropped me with the pistol, and that wouldn't have done much good to anybody."
"Of course not," said Austin. "I was uncommonly thankful when Bill got hold of him. Send him along to my room, and then start your engines."
In another two or three minutes the Cumbria was steaming west again, and Bill, the fireman, stood, somewhat sheepishly, in the doorway of Austin's room.
"I owe you a good deal, and when the time comes I'll endeavour to remember it," said the latter. "Still, I don't want Mr. Jefferson ever to know anything about the thing. You did it cleverly."
Bill grinned. "Well," he said, "I'm quite glad I did. I felt I had to do something for my five pounds, any way."
It dawned upon Austin that once or twice, when he had somewhat risky work to do, Bill had been near him.
"What five pounds?" he asked.
"The five pounds she shoved into my hand one night on board the Estremedura– no – the fact is, I'm feeling a little shaky, and I don't quite know what I'm saying. The getting hold of Mr. Jefferson has upset me. When you think of it, it's only natural."
"Then it has come on very suddenly," said Austin. "You seemed all right a moment or two ago. Am I to understand that somebody gave you five pounds to look after me?"
It was evident to Bill that there was nothing to be gained by further reticence, and he edged out of the doorway, grinning more broadly than ever.
"Well," he said, "I guess she meant you, though she said it was both of you. Still, you won't tell her, or I sha'n't get any more."
He had vanished before Austin could ask another question, but the matter was quite clear to the latter, and his face grew hot while a little thrill of satisfaction ran through him as he recognised that Jacinta had felt it worth while to do what she could to ensure his safety. Then he remembered something else, and his face grew hard as he pulled off his jacket and glanced at his bare arm.
He had torn and abraded it heaving in oil and coal, and the gunboat's surgeon had warned him that it was advisable to keep his skin unbroken. There were several half-hardened scars upon it now, and another had been torn away when he fell against the rail in a heavy lurch a day or two earlier. He had worn no jacket at the time. He had since noticed a curious tingling sensation in that part of his arm, and, holding it nearer the lamp, he saw that the flesh was inflamed about the wound. There was no doubt about the fact. When he pressed it with his thumb all the lower arm was sore, and he let it fall limply to his side, and sat down with a little groan. The horrible thing he shrank from had, it seemed, come upon him. He sat very still for half an hour, grappling with a numbing sense of dismay, and then, with a little shake of his shoulders, went back to the bridge, for he had still a duty to his comrades.
CHAPTER XXIX
AUSTIN IS MISSING
It was a fine morning, and the signal, "Steamer approaching from the South," was flying from the staff high up on the Isleta hill, when Pancho Brown's boat lay heaving on the smooth swell at the entrance to Las Palmas harbour. Mrs. Hatherly, Jacinta, and Muriel sat in the stern-sheets, and beyond them two barefooted Canarios were resting on their oars, while two or three miles away a smear of smoke that half hid a streak of dusky hull moved towards them across the shining sea. Brown was watching it attentively with a pair of marine glasses in his hand.
"You have brought me off several times for nothing, but I almost think our friends have turned up at last," he said. "Of course, from Lieutenant Onslow's cable she should have been here several days ago, but it's very likely the engines would give them trouble. Any way, we'll know in ten minutes or so. There's the Sanidad going off."
A launch crept out from the mole, and behind her in the harbour boats were being got afloat. Coaling clerks, tobacco and wine merchants, and a miscellaneous crowd of petty dealers, were waiting to step on board, but two, at least, of Pancho Brown's party had no eyes for them. They were watching the incoming steamer rise higher out of the shining sea, and wondering if she was the one they had for the last few days looked for with tense anxiety. They had Onslow's cable from Sierra Leone, and the skipper of a big tramp which had come in for coals reported that a small British steamer had asked him for the latitude and longitude a week before. Nothing, however, had since been heard of her, and Jacinta had found the last three or four days as trying as Muriel did. The latter had, however, borne the suspense bravely, and displayed a sublime confidence in her lover which Jacinta, for no very obvious reason, found almost exasperating at times.
"Can't we go out a little?" she said at last.
Brown made a sign to the Canarios, who dipped the oars, and as they slid past the Carsegarry, which lay with steam blowing off, and a water barge alongside, Captain Farquhar leaned over her rails. He had come in for coal on his way to Liverpool the previous day, and had spent part of the night with Brown.
"I really think that is the Cumbria," he said. "Any way, she's much the kind of boat Jefferson described to me, and so far as I can make out they have a big boiler on deck. I suppose you are going off to her?"
Brown said they were, and Farquhar glanced at the boat hesitatingly. "I'd very much like to come with you, but I can't leave just now," he said. "Still, we won't have filled our tanks up for an hour or two, and you might tell Mr. Austin that I certainly expect him to pull across and see me. In fact, although we have steam up, I'll wait until he does."
Brown made a sign of comprehension, and the boat slid away, while when she stopped again outside the harbour the eyes of all on board her were fixed upon the steamer. She had also stopped, and lay rolling wildly, with the yellow flag at her foremast-head and the Sanidad launch alongside her; but in another minute or two the flag came fluttering down, and she moved on again towards the harbour. Brown signed to the oarsmen to turn the boat's head.
"There's no doubt that she's the Cumbria, and they can't have had anything very bad on board," he said.
In another five minutes the Cumbria crept up with them, rolling wickedly, with the big pump thudding on her deck, and a stream of water spouting from her side. Rags of awnings fluttered about her, her funnel was white with salt crust, for the trade-wind blows strong at that season, and the blistered paint had peeled from her corroded sides. Her story was written upon her so that even the girls could read, and both felt that no plainer testimony was needed to the courage of the men who had brought her home. Then they saw them, Jefferson leaning out, gaunt and blanched in face, from the bridge rails, and Austin standing amidst a group of haggard men on the forecastle. Jacinta's heart was beating a good deal faster than usual, and she saw the sudden tears rise to her companion's eyes; but as the long, rusty hull forged past them Austin made no sign. He stood looking straight in front of him, until he turned to the men about him who were busy with the anchor.
"He can't have seen us," said Muriel, with astonishment in her tone, and then touched Brown's arm. "Tell them to row their hardest, please."
The Canarios bent their backs and the boat swept forward, for the steamer had already passed ahead of them. Jacinta sat unusually still, watching her, sensible at once of a vague dismay and a thrill of pride. She had understanding as well as imagination, and the sight of that rusty vessel and the worn faces of the men upon her deck had stirred her curiously. It was, she felt, a notable thing they had done, and she was, she knew, responsible for the part one of them had played in it. He had come home with credit, a man who had done something worth while, and had doubtless learned his strength. She could not fancy him frittering his life away after that; but still she was perplexed, and a trifle anxious, for it seemed that he must have seen them, and he had made no sign. She had, on her part, twice passed him without recognition in the Plaza at Santa Cruz, and her heart smote her as she remembered it; but he was not a vindictive man, and must by that time have realised the misapprehension she had been under concerning him. For that, at least, she would ask his forgiveness in another few minutes, and her face burned as she wondered what he would say to her.
Then she saw the white wash of the Cumbria's propeller as it whirled astern, and there was a roar of running chain, while two or three minutes later they were making their way up the lowered ladder amidst a crowd of petty dealers when Jefferson came across the deck, driving the latter aside. Jacinta saw that it cost Muriel an effort to hide her consternation at his appearance, but in another moment she was smiling at him with shining eyes, and the haggard man's arms were about her. That the deck was crowded with Spaniards did not seem in the least to matter to either of them. Jacinta, who would not have done as much, felt a little thrill of sympathy, and, it was significant, looked round for Austin. There was, however, no sign of him.
Then Jefferson, still holding Muriel's arm, drew them out of the press, and there was a general offering of congratulations and grasping of hands.
"I am," he said, "uncommonly glad to be back again, though I'm not sure we'd have ever got here except for Austin. I have only been on my feet the last day or two, and he did everything."
"Where is he?" said Muriel, seeing that Jacinta would not ask.
"Across at the Carsegarry. At least, he told me he was going when he recognised her."
"Without coming to shake hands with us?" said Muriel, who flashed a covert glance at Jacinta.
"I understand from one of these fellows that Farquhar is just going to sea, and it's very probable that Austin heard it, too. I have no doubt he'll be back again in five minutes."
"You will come ashore with us, and we will expect you and Mr. Austin to make my house your home in the meanwhile," said Brown.
"I shall be very glad," said Jefferson. "You will, however, have to excuse me for an hour or two. I have our Consul to see, and a good many things to do before I can call my time my own. I wonder if you could get me a tartana?"
"Mine is waiting at the Mole," said Brown.
It was an hour later when they took their places in the vehicle, but though Brown bade the driver wait a minute or two, there was no appearance of Austin. Just then the Carsegarry crept down the harbour, and with a sonorous blast of her whistle steamed out to sea.
"There is no boat coming. He must have landed on the other mole, and, perhaps, met somebody he couldn't get away from," said Brown. "I'll leave word that we are expecting him, and no doubt he'll turn up soon after we get home."
They drove away, and that afternoon sat together in Brown's cool patio. The noise of the bustling city was deadened by the tall white walls, over which there shone a square of cloudless blue, and the scent of flowers was heavy in the shadowy space below. Jefferson lay, attired becomingly once more, in a big cane chair, with a little smile of content in his hollow face, and a pile of fruit, and a flask of wine, on the table in front of him. The others sat about him, and a fountain splashed behind them in the shadow.
"A very little of this will make me well," he said. "In fact, it is already a trifle difficult to believe that I could scarcely lift myself in my berth a few days ago. I think it was the sight of Gomera that cured me. You see, I was a little doubtful about Austin finding the Canaries, and when they came to tell me they could see the Peak, Wall-eye, who was watching me, ran out."
"What was he watching you for?" asked Muriel.
"To see I didn't get up. I had my chance then, and I crawled out of my berth. I believe I fell over several things before I got out on deck, and then I knew we were all right at last. There was the Peak – high up in the sky in front of us, with Gomera a blue smudge low down at its feet. We ran in under the lee, and, because they were played out, and Tom had trouble with his engines, stayed there three days."
He stopped a moment, with a little laugh. "I think Austin was 'most astonished as I was to find he'd brought her home. He'd been running four or five days on dead reckoning, and wasn't much more than a hundred miles out."
"I wonder where he is," said Brown.
Jefferson looked a trifle perplexed, and it was evident that others of the party had asked themselves the same question, for there was a moment's silence until Muriel spoke.
"If he doesn't come soon I shall feel very vexed with him; but we want to hear how you got the steamer off," she said.
Jefferson commenced his tale diffidently, but, because Austin had worked in the sombre background – more effectively than he could do already – the rest listened with full comprehension. His unvarnished narrative was, however, striking enough, and, save for the splashing of the fountain, and his low voice, there was a suggestive silence in the patio, until he stopped abruptly when he came to the scene in which Austin pleaded for the negro.
"The man wasn't fit to look at," he said.
"But why did Mr. Austin go near him?" asked Muriel, with a little shiver.
"To save his life," said Jefferson, awkwardly. "You see, we couldn't have him there – and he really wasn't a man then. The thing he had we believed contagious, and somebody had to put him into his canoe."
Muriel gazed at him with an expression of perplexity, and it was clear that she did not quite understand what had taken place on the night in question, which was, however, not astonishing. Brown appeared a trifle uncomfortable, and Jefferson was sincerely thankful when Jacinta broke in.
"Of course," she said. "He couldn't have stayed there. Mr. Austin put him into his canoe?" She stopped for a moment, and her voice seemed to change a trifle. "Did he find it necessary to touch him?"
"He did. In fact, the nigger got hold of him. One of them slipped on the bridge deck ladder and they rolled down it together."
Again there was silence, and all of them looked at Jefferson, who saw the question in Jacinta's eyes.
"No," he said. "Nothing came of it, though for a week or so I was horribly afraid. It isn't men like Austin who take that kind of thing, and it's possible it mayn't have been infectious, after all."
Muriel heard Jacinta softly draw in her breath, as though she had been under a strain which had suddenly relaxed. Then a little colour crept into her face and a sparkle into her eyes.
"Yes," said Jefferson, though nobody had spoken, "it was a daring thing. More, in fact, than I would have done. My partner has the cleanest kind of real hard sand in him."
He turned to Muriel with a little deprecatory gesture. "I had more at stake than he had – and I was afraid that night."
Jacinta sat still a while, a trifle flushed in face, for the scene Jefferson had very vaguely pictured had stirred her to the depths. The man whom she had sent forth had done more than she would ever have asked of him, and the gallantry of the action brought a dimness to her eyes. Then she remembered that it was not done recklessly, for he had, it seemed, decided calmly, which must have made it inexpressibly harder. There were, she could imagine, circumstances in which a man might more or less willingly risk his life, but the risk Austin had taken was horrible, and he stood to gain nothing when he quietly recognised the responsibility he had taken upon himself. It was with an overwhelming sense of confusion she remembered the jibes she had flung at him concerning his discretion, and yet under it there was still the sense of pride. After all, it was to please her he had gone to Africa.
"Well," said Jefferson quietly, "you are pleased with him?"
Jacinta met his gaze unwaveringly, and her voice had a little thrill in it.
"Does it matter in the least whether I am pleased or not?" she said. "Still, since you ask, I scarcely think I have heard of anything that would surpass what he did that night."
Jefferson made her a little inclination. "I am," he said gravely, "not sure that I have, either."
He went on with his story, but Jacinta scarcely listened to it, for she was wondering why Austin had not come, and waiting expectantly for the time when she could, in self-abasement, endeavour to wipe what she had said from his memory. Still, he did not come, and it was half an hour later when a barefooted boatman was shown into the patio. He had an envelope in his hand, and turned to Brown.
"The Englishman who was in the Estremedura gave me this on board the Carsegarry," he said. "I am sorry I could not bring it before, but several steamers I had to go to came in, and then it was some time before I found out that the Señor Jefferson had gone home with you."
When he went away Brown handed Jefferson the note, while the latter, who opened it, straightened himself suddenly and seemed to be struggling with some emotion. Then he passed it to Jacinta.
"You have good nerves, Miss Brown," he said. "If I had known it would come to this, I think I would have left the Cumbria there."
Jacinta took the letter in a steady hand, but her face grew a trifle blanched as she read.
"I am going home with Farquhar," the message ran. "I could hardly go in a passenger boat, and he is fixing me up a room by myself. I didn't care to tell you when you were just shaking off the fever, but one of my arms feels very much as that engineer said his did. I am going to see if one of the big specialists or the Tropical Disease men can do anything for me."
Jacinta sat quite still a minute, and then slowly rose.
"It is horrible, but I suppose even a purpose of the kind he had does not exempt one from the consequences," she said. "There are things to attend to. You will excuse me just now."
They looked at one another when she left them, and then Brown turned to Jefferson.
"I wonder if you have any objections to showing me that note?" he said.
"It doesn't seem to be here," said Muriel. "What can she have done with it?"
"Don't worry about looking," said Jefferson sharply. "I can remember it. It has, in fact, shaken a good deal of the stiffness out of me."
Muriel gasped with consternation when he told them, and by and by the group broke up, while it was a somewhat silent party that assembled for comida an hour later. Jacinta, it was evident, had very little appetite, though she contrived to join in the somewhat pointless conversation, and it was not until late that night Brown came upon her alone on the flat roof. She was leaning on the parapet, and looking out across the sea, but her eyes were turned northwards now, and she did not hear him until he gently laid a hand upon her shoulder. Then she turned and looked at him with despair in her face. She had not expected him, or he would not have seen it, though there was clear moonlight above them.
Brown sat down on the parapet, and, taking off his gold-rimmed glasses, held them in his hand.
"I think I understand, my dear, and I have something to say," he said.
Jacinta made no disclaimer. For one thing, she saw it would have been useless, and she had no strength left in her then.
"Is it worth while?" she asked. "Would anything that you could say change what has happened?"
"No," said Brown, reflectively, "I scarcely think it would. Still, I would like to mention that we really don't know the thing is incurable. In fact, it may be a malady which is readily susceptible to the proper treatment, and he has done wisely in going to England."
A little gleam of hope crept into Jacinta's eyes. "I had hardly dared to think of that," she said.
"Well," said Brown, "I really fancy the thing may not be as serious as you and Mr. Jefferson, perhaps naturally, seem to fear. Now, as you know, I was going to England about the new fruit contracts in a week or two, and there is no particular reason why I shouldn't go the day after to-morrow. I should make it my business to see Mr. Austin has the best advice which can be got from the specialists in that country. Only, my dear, I want to ask a very plain question. Supposing he is cured – what then?"
"I'm afraid you must shape the question differently," and a trace of colour crept into the whiteness of Jacinta's face.
"Then I will tell you what I know. You sent that man to Africa, and he went because he was in love with you. He is also a man I have a considerable liking for – and you are my only child. I am getting old, and would like to see you safely settled before I go. There are," and he made a little gesture, "occasions on which one must speak plainly."
Jacinta's face was crimson at last, but she in no way attempted to question the correctness of the announcement he had made.
"Mr. Austin, at least, never told me what you seem to be so sure about – and it is scarcely likely that he will ever do so now," she said.
Brown smiled a little, and tapped the palm of his hand with his glasses.
"My dear," he said, "I think you know better. Of course, you would never have admitted so much as you have done if I had not had you at a disadvantage to-night. Well, the first thing is to see what can be done to cure him. Only, if he comes back, you will, I suppose, know your mind?"
He looked at her steadily, and, when Jacinta lowered her eyes, laid his hand gently on her arm again.
"I sail by the yellow-funnel boat the day after to-morrow," he said.
