Hatteras turned his head quickly towards his companion, almost suspiciously. Then he looked back into the darkness, and after a little he said:--
"It"s not only the things you care about, old man, which tug at you, it"s the things you hate as well. I hate this country. I hate these miles and miles of mangroves, and yet I am fascinated. I can"t get the forest and the undergrowth out of my mind. I dream of them at nights.
I dream that I am sinking into that black oily batter of mud. Listen,"
and he suddenly broke off with his head stretched forwards. "Doesn"t it sound wicked?"
"But all this talk about London?" cried Walker.
"Oh, don"t you understand?" interrupted Hatteras roughly. Then he changed his tone and gave his reason. "One has to struggle against a fascination of that sort. It"s devil"s work. So for all I am worth I talk about London."
"Look here, d.i.c.k," said Walker. "You had better get leave and go back to the old country for a spell."
"A very solid piece of advice," said Hatteras, and he went home to the Residency.
II.
The next morning he had again disappeared. But Walker discovered upon his table a couple of new volumes. He glanced at the t.i.tles. They were Burton"s account of his pilgrimage to al-Madinah and Mecca.
Five nights afterwards Walker was smoking a pipe on the verandah when he fancied that he heard a rubbing, scuffling sound as if some one very cautiously was climbing over the fence of his compound. The moon was low in the sky and dipping down toward the forest; indeed the rim of it touched the tree-tops so that while a full half of the enclosure was bare to the yellow light that half which bordered on the forest was inky black in shadow; and it was from the furthest corner of this second half that the sound came. Walker bent forward listening. He heard the sound again, and a moment after another sound, which left him in no doubt. For in that dark corner he knew that a number of palisades for repairing the fence were piled and the second sound which he heard was a rattle as some one stumbled against them. Walker went inside and fetched a rifle.
When he came back he saw a negro creeping across the bright open s.p.a.ce towards the Residency. Walker hailed to him to stop. Instead the negro ran. He ran towards the wicket gate in the palisades. Walker shouted again; the figure only ran the faster. He had covered half the distance before Walker fired. He clutched his right forearm with his left hand, but he did not stop. Walker fired again, this time at his legs, and the man dropped to the ground. Walker heard his servants stirring as he ran down the steps. He crossed quickly to the negro and the negro spoke to him, but in English, and with the voice of Hatteras.
"For G.o.d"s sake keep your servants off!"
Walker ran to the house, met his servants at the foot of the steps, and ordered them back. He had shot at a monkey he said. Then he returned to Hatteras.
"d.i.c.ky, are you hurt?" he whispered.
"You hit me each time you fired, but not very badly I think."
He bandaged Hatteras" arm and thigh with strips of his shirt and waited by his side until the house was quiet. Then he lifted him and carried him across the enclosure to the steps and up the steps into his bedroom. It was a long and fatiguing process. For one thing Walker dared make no noise and must needs tread lightly with his load; for another, the steps were steep and ricketty, with a narrow bal.u.s.trade on each side waist high. It seemed to Walker that the day would dawn before he reached the top. Once or twice Hatteras stirred in his arms, and he feared the man would die then and there. For all the time his blood dripped and pattered like heavy raindrops on the wooden steps.
Walker laid Hatteras on his bed and examined his wounds. One bullet had pa.s.sed through the fleshy part of the forearm, the other through the fleshy part of his right thigh. But no bones were broken and no arteries cut. Walker lit a fire, baked some plaintain leaves, and applied them as a poultice. Then he went out with a pail of water and scrubbed down the steps.
Again he dared not make any noise, and it was close on daybreak before he had done. His night"s work, however, was not ended. He had still to cleanse the black stain from Hatteras" skin, and the sun was up before he stretched a rug upon the ground and went to sleep with his back against the door.
"Walker," Hatteras called out in a low voice, an hour or so later.
Walker woke up and crossed over to the bed.
"d.i.c.ky, I"m frightfully sorry. I couldn"t know it was you."
"That"s all right, Jim. Don"t you worry about that. What I wanted to say was that n.o.body had better know. It wouldn"t do, would it, if it got about?"
"Oh, I am not so sure. People would think it rather a creditable proceeding."
Hatteras shot a puzzled look at his friend. Walker, however, did not notice it, and continued, "I saw Burton"s account of his pilgrimage in your room; I might have known that journeys of the kind were just the sort of thing to appeal to you."
"Oh, yes, that"s it," said Hatteras, lifting himself up in bed. He spoke eagerly--perhaps a thought too eagerly. "Yes, that"s it. I have always been keen on understanding the native thoroughly. It"s after all no less than one"s duty if one has to rule them, and since I could speak their lingo--" he broke off and returned to the subject which had prompted him to rouse Walker. "But, all the same, it wouldn"t do if the natives got to know."
"There"s no difficulty about that," said Walker. "I"ll give out that you have come back with the fever and that I am nursing you.
Fortunately there"s no doctor handy to come making inconvenient examinations."
Hatteras knew something of surgery, and under his directions Walker poulticed and bandaged him until he recovered. The bandaging, however, was amateurish, and, as a result, the muscles contracted in Hatteras"
thigh and he limped--ever so slightly, still he limped--he limped to his dying day. He did not, however, on that account abandon his explorations, and more than once Walker, when his lights were out and he was smoking a pipe on the verandah, would see a black figure with a trailing walk cross his compound and pa.s.s stealthily through the wicket in the fence. Walker took occasion to expostulate with his friend.
"It"s too dangerous a game for a man to play for any length of time.
It is doubly dangerous now that you limp. You ought to give it up."
Hatteras made a strange reply.
"I"ll try to," he said.
Walker pondered over the words for some time. He set them side by side in his thoughts with that confession which Hatteras had made to him one evening. He asked himself whether, after all, Hatteras"
explanation of his conduct was sincere, whether it was really a desire to know the native thoroughly which prompted these mysterious expeditions; and then he remembered that he himself had first suggested the explanation to Hatteras. Walker began to feel uneasy--more than uneasy, actually afraid on his friend"s account.
Hatteras had acknowledged that the country fascinated him, and fascinated him through its hideous side. Was this masquerading as a black man a further proof of the fascination? Was it, as it were, a step downwards towards a closer a.s.sociation? Walker sought to laugh the notion from his mind, but it returned and returned, and here and there an incident occurred to give it strength and colour.
For instance, on one occasion after Hatteras had been three weeks absent, Walker sauntered over to the Residency towards four o"clock in the afternoon. Hatteras was trying cases in the court-house, which formed the ground floor of the Residency. Walker stepped into the room. It was packed with a naked throng of blacks, and the heat was overpowering. At the end of the hall sat Hatteras. His worn face shone out amongst the black heads about him white and waxy like a gardenia in a bouquet of black flowers. Walker invented his simile and realised its appositeness at one and the same moment. Bouquet was not an inappropriate word since there is a penetrating aroma about the native of the Niger delta when he begins to perspire.
Walker, however, thinking that the Court would rise, determined to wait for a little. But, at the last moment, a negro was put up to answer to a charge of partic.i.p.ation in Fetish rites. The case seemed sufficiently clear from the outset, but somehow Hatteras delayed its conclusion. There was evidence and unreb.u.t.ted evidence of the usual details--human sacrifice, mutilations and the like, but Hatteras pressed for more. He sat until it was dusk, and then had candles brought into the Court-house. He seemed indeed not so much to be investigating the negro"s guilt as to be adding to his own knowledge of Fetish ceremonials. And Walker could not but perceive that he took more than a merely scientific pleasure in the increase of his knowledge. His face appeared to smooth out, his eyes became quick, interested, almost excited; and Walker again had the queer impression that Hatteras was in spirit partic.i.p.ating in the loathsome ceremonies, and partic.i.p.ating with an intense enjoyment. In the end the negro was convicted and the Court rose. But he might have been convicted a good three hours before. Walker went home shaking his head. He seemed to be watching a man deliberately divesting himself of his humanity. It seemed as though the white man were ambitious to decline into the black. Hatteras was growing into an uncanny creature. His friend began to foresee a time when he should hold him in loathing and horror. And the next morning helped to confirm him in that forecast.
For Walker had to make an early start down river for Bonny town, and as he stood on the landing-stage Hatteras came down to him from the Residency.
"You heard that negro tried yesterday?" he asked with an a.s.sumption of carelessness.
"Yes, and condemned. What of him?"
"He escaped last night. It"s a bad business, isn"t it?"
Walker nodded in reply and his boat pushed off. But it stuck in his mind for the greater part of that day that the prison adjoined the Court-house and so formed part of the ground floor of the Residency.
Had Hatteras connived at his escape? Had the judge secretly set free the prisoner whom he had publicly condemned? The question troubled Walker considerably during his month of absence, and stood in the way of his business. He learned for the first time how much he loved his friend and how eagerly he watched for the friend"s advancement.
Each day added to his load of anxiety. He dreamed continually of a black-painted man slipping among the tree-boles nearer and nearer towards the red glow of a fire in some open s.p.a.ce secure amongst the swamps, where hideous mysteries had their celebration. He cut short his business and hurried back from Bonny. He crossed at once to the Residency and found his friend in a great turmoil of affairs. Walker came back from Bonny a month later and hurried across to his friend.
"Jim," said Hatteras, starting up, "I"ve got a year"s leave; I am going home."
"d.i.c.ky!" cried Walker, and he nearly wrung Hatteras" hand from his arm. "That"s grand news."
"Yes, old man, I thought you would be glad; I sail in a fortnight."
And he did.
For the first month Walker was glad. A year"s leave would make a new man of d.i.c.k Hatteras, he thought, or, at all events, restore the old man, sane and sound, as he had been before he came to the West African coast. During the second month Walker began to feel lonely. In the third he bought a banjo and learnt it during the fourth and fifth.
During the sixth he began to say to himself, "What a time poor d.i.c.k must have had all those six years with those cursed forests about him.
I don"t wonder--I don"t wonder." He turned disconsolately to his banjo and played for the rest of the year; all through the wet season while the rain came down in a steady roar and only the curlews cried--until Hatteras returned. He returned at the top of his spirits and health.
Of course he was hall-marked West African, but no man gets rid of that stamp. Moreover there was more than health in his expression. There was a new look of pride in his eyes and when he spoke of a bachelor it was in terms of sympathetic pity.
"Jim," said he, after five minutes of restraint, "I am engaged to be married."
Jim danced round him in delight. "What an a.s.s I have been," he thought, "why didn"t I think of that cure myself?" and he asked, "When is it to be?"