The _Medea_ and the _Cygnet_, and the other ships I knew which carried those whose fortunes were some concern of mine, might have sailed over the edge of the world. My only communication was with an occasional familiar name in the reports of the _Shipping List_. Then Macandrew came home again. But it was difficult to meet him. Mrs. Macandrew told me he was working by his ship in drydock. They had had trouble with the engines that voyage, and she herself had seen little of him, except to find him, when she came down of a morning, asleep in the drawing-room.
Just flung himself down in the first place, you know. In those greasy overalls, too. He had told her the engine-room looked like a sc.r.a.p-heap, but the ship had to be ready for sea in ten days. Once he had worked thirty-two hours on end. Think of that, and he had not been home for six months. She would strongly advise any girl not to marry a man who went to sea, and if I met Macandrew I was to bring him home at once. Did I hear?
When I found the _Medea_ it was late in the day, for she was not in the dry-dock that had been named. Her Chief had just gone ash.o.r.e. There was a chance that he would have called at the _Negro Boy_, but he had not been seen there. Except for the landlord, who was at a table talking to a stranger, the saloon was empty. A silk hat was on the table before the stranger, beside a tankard, and the hat was surmounted by a pair of neatly folded kid gloves. "Come over here," said the landlord. "Sit here for a bit, Macandrew may come in. This is Dr. Maslin." A monocle fell its length of black cord from the doctor"s eye, and he nodded to me.
"The doctor used to be with me when I was running out East," explained the landlord. "Where did you say you had come from now, Doctor? Oh, yes, Tabacol. Funny name. I was never on the South American coast.
After I left you sick at Maca.s.sar, the last trip we had together--the old _Siwalik_--I left the sea to younger men. But there you are, Doctor.
Still at it. Why don"t you give it up?"
The doctor did not answer, except to make a bubbling noise in his tankard. He placed it on the table again delicately and deliberately, and wiped his grizzled moustache with a crimson silk handkerchief. He put up his monocle, and seemed to be intently inspecting a gas globe over the counter. I thought his grimace in this concentration came from an effort to reinforce his will against all curiosity on our part. But it appeared he was really looking at what showed, at an angle, of a portrait on the wall of an inner room. He could just see it, from where he sat.
Anyhow, the landlord imagined it was the portrait which had caught his friend"s interest. "Looking at that crayon portrait, Doctor? Ah, showy woman, isn"t she? Used to be barmaid here. The Lord knows where she is now. Went to sea, like a fool. Stewardess, or something worse. Much more useful here."
The doctor"s seamed face, sour and ironic, made it impossible to know whether his expression was one of undisguised boredom, or only his show of conventional politeness. I began to feel I had broken into the intimacy of two men whose minds were dissimilar, but friendly through old a.s.sociations, and that the doctor"s finer wit was reproving me for an intrusion. So I rose, and asked indifferently what sort of a place was Tabacol. Had he been there before?
"Never," said the doctor, "nor is it the kind of place one wishes to see twice. We were kept at Tabacol because so many of our men were down with fever. It is a little distance up the Pondurucu River . . . maybe two hundred miles. Did you say. . . ? No. It is not really out of the way.
An ocean steamer calls at Tabacol once a month or six weeks. It is only on the edge of what romantic people call the unknown."
It was evident he thought I could be one of the romantic. He looked at me for the first time, twisting the cord of his eyegla.s.s with his finger and thumb in a fastidious way, and I thought his glance was to dissipate some doubt he had that he ought to be speaking to me at all. He dropped the cord suddenly as if letting go his reserve, and said slyly, with a grave smile: "Perhaps the romantic think the unknown is worth looking into because it may be better than what they know. At Tabacol I used to think the unknown country beyond it looked even duller than usual. There was a forest, a river, a silence, and it was either day or night. That was all. If the voice of Nature is the voice of G.o.d. . . ."
The landlord was observing in surprise this conversational excursion by his old friend, as if it were altogether new to him. He laughed aloud, and, putting a consoling hand on his friend"s shoulder as he rose, he told us he must leave us for a few minutes, for he had business. "Look more cheerful before I get back, Doctor."
The doctor chuckled, and stretched across to give his gloves a more satisfactory position on his hat. "I don"t understand what it can be that attracts people to such a place. Young men, maybe yourself even, wish to go there. Isn"t that so? Yes. I"ve met such men in such places. Then they did not give me the impression that they were satisfied with their romance. Impossible, of course. Romance is never in the place unless we put it there, and who would put even a sentimental dream into such a hole as Tabacol? Tropical squalor. Broken people!
I"ve never seen romance in such a place, and don"t expect to. . . ."
Several cabs, on their way to a ship outward bound, made an increasing noise in the night, rattled by on the cobbles outside, their occupants roaring a sentimental chorus, and drowned what the doctor was saying.
". . . folly. Worse than folly." He was holding his gloves now, and was lightly flicking the edge of the table with them in place of verbal emphasis. He suddenly regarded me again as if he strongly suspected me of being his antipathy. "Who but a fool would take a woman to such a country as that? Any romantic sentimentalist, I suppose. I forget the name of the ship. There was, you might say, hardly sufficient room to paint a name on her. She was no more than a tug. It was a miracle she survived to get there at all, for she had crossed from England. Crossed the Western ocean in such a craft, and brought a woman with him. Did ever you hear of such folly?"
Now I was certain of our whereabouts, and felt a weak inclination to show an elder that I, too, knew something about it; but when I leaned forward eagerly and was about to speak, the doctor screwed in that devastating monocle, and I felt I was only a curious example of the sort of thing he especially disliked. For a minute, in which I wondered if I had quite stopped his guarded flow, he said no more. Then he addressed his eyegla.s.s to a panel of the part.i.tion, and flicked his gloves at that.
"I had noticed for some days that little craft lying near us, but gave her no attention. I had sixteen men to attend to with complexions like lemons, and one died. There was no time to bother with other folk"s troubles. Our skipper, one breakfast-time, told me there was a woman aboard that little thing, and he"d been asked whether I"d go over. She was ill.
"I"ve seen some queer packets of misery at sea, but never one that touched that ship. Her skipper seemed a regular fool. I had to ask him to speak up, for he mumbled like a boy who has been caught out, and knows it is useless to pretend. I learned from him that he was only just beginning his voyage. You understand? He was just beginning it, there.
He was going up-river, to a point not on the chart. I cannot make out now whether he wanted to put that woman ash.o.r.e to get home in comfort at the first opportunity, or whether . . . it"s impossible to say. One would sooner believe the best of another man, with half a chance. After all," said the doctor bitterly, "as long as the woman survived I suppose she was some consolation in misery.
"I scrambled over the deck lumber. There was hardly room to move. I found her in a cabin where she could get little seclusion from the crew.
Hardly any privacy at all, I should say. As soon as I saw her I could make a guess . . . however, I told the fellow afterwards what I thought, and he gave me no answer. He even turned his back on me. He must have known well enough that that river was no place for any sort of white woman. He was condemning her perhaps to death just to make an ugly job more attractive.
"I admit," said the doctor, with a sly glance, "that she could make it attractive, for a sort of man. She was wrapped in a rosy dressing-gown.
She held it together with her hands. I noticed them . . . anybody might . . . they were covered with rings. She had character, too. She made me feel, the way she looked at me, that I was indiscreet in asking personal questions. I could see what was wrong with her. It was debility, but all the same the beginning of an end not far off, in that country.
""You"ll have to get out of this," I told her.
""Can"t be done, Doctor," she said coolly.
""It can. A liner for England will be here in another week, and you must take it."
""I don"t," she said. She was quiet enough, but she seemed a very wilful woman. "I"ve got my job here."
"I told her that the skipper of her ship would never carry out his orders, because they could not be carried out. I told her, what was perfectly true, that their craft would rot on a sandbar, or find cataracts, or that they"d all get eaten by cannibals, or die of something nasty. I admit I tried to frighten her.
""It"s no good, Doctor," she said. "You can"t worry me. I"ve got my work to do in this ship, like the others."
""Pooh!" I said to her. "Cooking and that. Anybody could do it. Let the men do it. It"s not a woman"s job."
""You"re wrong," she said. "It"s mine. You don"t know."
"I began to get annoyed with this stubborn creature. I told her she would die, if she didn"t leave the working of that ship to those who ought to do it.
""Who ought?" she asked me, in a bit of a temper. "I know what I have to do. I"m going through with it. It"s no good talking. I"ll take my chance, like the rest."
"So I had to tell her that I was there because the master of her ship had sent for me to give my advice. My business was to say what she ought to do.
""I don"t want to be told. I know," she said. "The captain sent for you. Talk to him."
"My temper was going, and I told her that it was something to know the captain himself had enough sense to send for me.
""Look here," she told me. "I"ve had enough of this. I want to be alone. Thank you for troubling to come over.""
The doctor lifted his shoulders, and made a wry face, that might have been disdain or pity.
"I was leaving her, but she called to me, and I went back. She held out her hand. "I do thank you for troubling about me. Of course I do. But I want to stay on here--I must."
""Well, you know the penalty," I said. "I was bound to tell you that."
""What of it?" she said, and laughed at me. "We musn"t bother about penalties. Good-bye!"
"I must say she made me feel that if the skipper of that ship had been of different metal, she might almost have pulled him through. But what a man. What a man! I saw his miserable little figure standing not far from where my boat was when I was going. He made as if he were coming to me, and then stopped. I was going to take no notice of him, but went up and explained a thing or two. I"ll bet he"ll remember them. All he said was: "I was afraid you"d never change her mind," and turned away. What a man! There was a pair for you. I could understand him, but what could have been in her mind? Whatever made her talk like that? That"s the way of it. There"s your romance of the tropics, and your squalid Garden of Eden, when you know it. A monotonous and dreary job, and a woman."
The landlord returned. The monocle fixedly and significantly regarded me. "Have another, Doctor," said the landlord, pointing to the empty tankard. "How long were you in Maca.s.sar?" The doctor turned briskly to his old friend, and began some chaff.
4
Ferguson, who had just come into port with a damaged propeller shaft, was telling us how it was. This was his first expansive experience, and there could be no doubt the engine-room staff of the _Torrington_ had behaved very well. The underwriters had recognized that, and handsomely, at a special meeting at Cornhill. Though Ferguson was young for a chief engineer, his professional elders, who were listening to him, showed some critical appreciation of the way he solved his problem. He was sitting at a table of the _Negro Boy_, drawing a diagram on it, and they stood round.
"There. That was where it was. You see what we had to do. It would not have been so bad in calm weather, but we were labouring heavily, all the way from Savannah. Our old man did not think it possible to do it. But it was no good waiting for something worse to happen."
The matter grew too technical for me. There was cargo jettisoned, and ballast tanks emptied aft. The stern of the _Torrington_ was lifted so that her propeller at intervals was clear. Ferguson then went overside on life-lines. When he was not submerged, he was trying to put his ship right again; and when he became exhausted, one of his colleagues took his place, to see whether, while escaping drowning, he could continue the work of salvation. They all escaped, and the _Torrington_ put back to Tampa for repairs, which her own engineers accomplished.
The demonstration was over, and Ferguson"s story was lapsing into general gossip. The party of men began to dissolve.
"Who do you think I saw at Tampa?" Ferguson asked Macandrew. "Old Purdy."
"What?" cried Macandrew. "Is he alive?"
Ferguson laughed. "Just about. What"s he been doing? I thought he had chucked the sea. It was in the Customs Office. I"d been there to make a declaration, and in one of those long corridors there he stood, all alone, with his hat in his hand, perhaps cooling his head. I hardly knew him. He"s more miserable than ever."
"Did he say anything?" asked Macandrew.