And then you mustn"t forget these necessary bags. That first evening Jacobus made me stay to dinner; after, however, telling me loyally that he didn"t know whether he could do anything at all for me. He had been thinking it over. It was too difficult, he feared. . . . But he did not give it up in so many words.
We were only three at table; the girl by means of repeated "Won"t!"
"Shan"t!" and "Don"t care!" having conveyed and affirmed her intention not to come to the table, not to have any dinner, not to move from the verandah. The old relative hopped about in her flat slippers and piped indignantly, Jacobus towered over her and murmured placidly in his throat; I joined jocularly from a distance, throwing in a few words, for which under the cover of the night I received secretly a most vicious poke in the ribs from the old woman"s elbow or perhaps her fist. I restrained a cry. And all the time the girl didn"t even condescend to raise her head to look at any of us. All this may sound childish-and yet that stony, petulant sullenness had an obscurely tragic flavour.
And so we sat down to the food around the light of a good many candles while she remained crouching out there, staring in the dark as if feeding her bad temper on the heavily scented air of the admirable garden.
Before leaving I said to Jacobus that I would come next day to hear if the bag affair had made any progress. He shook his head slightly at that.
"I"ll haunt your house daily till you pull it off. You"ll be always finding me here."
His faint, melancholy smile did not part his thick lips.
"That will be all right, Captain."
Then seeing me to the door, very tranquil, he murmured earnestly the recommendation: "Make yourself at home," and also the hospitable hint about there being always "a plate of soup." It was only on my way to the quay, down the ill-lighted streets, that I remembered I had been engaged to dine that very evening with the S- family. Though vexed with my forgetfulness (it would be rather awkward to explain) I couldn"t help thinking that it had procured me a more amusing evening. And besides-business. The sacred business-.
In a barefooted negro who overtook me at a run and bolted down the landing-steps I recognised Jacobus"s boatman, who must have been feeding in the kitchen. His usual "Good-night, sah!" as I went up my ship"s ladder had a more cordial sound than on previous occasions.
CHAPTER V
I KEPT my word to Jacobus. I haunted his home. He was perpetually finding me there of an afternoon when he popped in for a moment from the "store." The sound of my voice talking to his Alice greeted him on his doorstep; and when he returned for good in the evening, ten to one he would hear it still going on in the verandah. I just nodded to him; he would sit down heavily and gently, and watch with a sort of approving anxiety my efforts to make his daughter smile.
I called her often "Alice," right before him; sometimes I would address her as Miss "Don"t Care," and I exhausted myself in nonsensical chatter without succeeding once in taking her out of her peevish and tragic self.
There were moments when I felt I must break out and start swearing at her till all was blue. And I fancied that had I done so Jacobus would not have moved a muscle. A sort of shady, intimate understanding seemed to have been established between us.
I must say the girl treated her father exactly in the same way she treated me.
And how could it have been otherwise? She treated me as she treated her father. She had never seen a visitor. She did not know how men behaved.
I belonged to the low lot with whom her father did business at the port.
I was of no account. So was her father. The only decent people in the world were the people of the island, who would have nothing to do with him because of something wicked he had done. This was apparently the explanation Miss Jacobus had given her of the household"s isolated position. For she had to be told something! And I feel convinced that this version had been a.s.sented to by Jacobus. I must say the old woman was putting it forward with considerable gusto. It was on her lips the universal explanation, the universal allusion, the universal taunt.
One day Jacobus came in early and, beckoning me into the dining-room, wiped his brow with a weary gesture and told me that he had managed to unearth a supply of quarter-bags.
"It"s fourteen hundred your ship wanted, did you say, Captain?"
"Yes, yes!" I replied eagerly; but he remained calm. He looked more tired than I had ever seen him before.
"Well, Captain, you may go and tell your people that they can get that lot from my brother."
As I remained open-mouthed at this, he added his usual placid formula of a.s.surance:
"You"ll find it correct, Captain."
"You spoke to your brother about it?" I was distinctly awed. "And for me? Because he must have known that my ship"s the only one hung up for bags. How on earth-"
He wiped his brow again. I noticed that he was dressed with unusual care, in clothes in which I had never seen him before. He avoided my eye.
"You"ve heard people talk, of course. . . . That"s true enough. He . . .
I . . . We certainly. . . for several years . . ." His voice declined to a mere sleepy murmur. "You see I had something to tell him of, something which-"
His murmur stopped. He was not going to tell me what this something was.
And I didn"t care. Anxious to carry the news to my charterers, I ran back on the verandah to get my hat.
At the bustle I made the girl turned her eyes slowly in my direction, and even the old woman was checked in her knitting. I stopped a moment to exclaim excitedly:
"Your father"s a brick, Miss Don"t Care. That"s what he is."
She beheld my elation in scornful surprise. Jacobus with unwonted familiarity seized my arm as I flew through the dining-room, and breathed heavily at me a proposal about "A plate of soup" that evening. I answered distractedly: "Eh? What? Oh, thanks! Certainly. With pleasure," and tore myself away. Dine with him? Of course. The merest grat.i.tude-
But some three hours afterwards, in the dusky, silent street, paved with cobble-stones, I became aware that it was not mere grat.i.tude which was guiding my steps towards the house with the old garden, where for years no guest other than myself had ever dined. Mere grat.i.tude does not gnaw at one"s interior economy in that particular way. Hunger might; but I was not feeling particularly hungry for Jacobus"s food.
On that occasion, too, the girl refused to come to the table.
My exasperation grew. The old woman cast malicious glances at me. I said suddenly to Jacobus: "Here! Put some chicken and salad on that plate." He obeyed without raising his eyes. I carried it with a knife and fork and a serviette out on the verandah. The garden was one ma.s.s of gloom, like a cemetery of flowers buried in the darkness, and she, in the chair, seemed to muse mournfully over the extinction of light and colour.
Only whiffs of heavy scent pa.s.sed like wandering, fragrant souls of that departed mult.i.tude of blossoms. I talked volubly, jocularly, persuasively, tenderly; I talked in a subdued tone. To a listener it would have sounded like the murmur of a pleading lover. Whenever I paused expectantly there was only a deep silence. It was like offering food to a seated statue.
"I haven"t been able to swallow a single morsel thinking of you out here starving yourself in the dark. It"s positively cruel to be so obstinate.
Think of my sufferings."
"Don"t care."
I felt as if I could have done her some violence-shaken her, beaten her maybe. I said:
"Your absurd behaviour will prevent me coming here any more."
"What"s that to me?"
"You like it."
"It"s false," she snarled.
My hand fell on her shoulder; and if she had flinched I verily believe I would have shaken her. But there was no movement and this immobility disarmed my anger.
"You do. Or you wouldn"t be found on the verandah every day. Why are you here, then? There are plenty of rooms in the house. You have your own room to stay in-if you did not want to see me. But you do. You know you do."
I felt a slight shudder under my hand and released my grip as if frightened by that sign of animation in her body. The scented air of the garden came to us in a warm wave like a voluptuous and perfumed sigh.
"Go back to them," she whispered, almost pitifully.
As I re-entered the dining-room I saw Jacobus cast down his eyes. I banged the plate on the table. At this demonstration of ill-humour he murmured something in an apologetic tone, and I turned on him viciously as if he were accountable to me for these "abominable eccentricities," I believe I called them.
"But I dare say Miss Jacobus here is responsible for most of this offensive manner," I added loftily.
She piped out at once in her brazen, ruffianly manner:
"Eh? Why don"t you leave us in peace, my good fellow?"