CHAPTER XV
THE BOARDING OF THE KABUNDA
It was a hot and steamy night when trader Redmond sat with his comradeGilby in an upper room of their factory perched above a beach swept bysmoking surf, which was even heavier than usual that night. The factorywas not a desirable residence, even for West Africa, where there are notmany places where a fastidious white man would care to live; but neitherRedmond nor his comrade was particular, and so long as they could make agood percentage on the factory's turnover, they disregarded the dirt,smells, and insect legions. Redmond was pale and round-shouldered; Gilbylank and tall; and their speech was usually vivid and their tempersquick.
Redmond strolled toward the window and swore at the surf. He had somejustification, for the whole heave of the southern ocean hurled itselfthundering upon the hammered beach. The factory windows rattled as eachbreaker dissolved into long sheets of foam which surged far up thetrembling sand, while the steamy haze of spray veiled almost to itssummit the lofty bluff behind the edifice.
"No use lighting the signal fire. There's not a surf-boat on the coastcould run a load of produce through. The _Kabunda_ can either blow herwhistle off or go on again," he said. "It's even too bad to venture offlight, and screw an odd bottle of liquor out of her purser."
"It always is when the markets are rising and we have cargo waiting,"grumbled Gilby. "As to the liquor, you can go yourself if you want it.I'm not over-keen on playing that game with the _Kabunda_'s new factotumagain. It takes a good deal to stir me, but that man has no sense ofhumor, and was positively insulting. 'No cargo in your confounded boat?'growls he. 'Well, the next time you stop this mailboat just becauseyou're thirsty, we'll heave you over the rail!'"
Redmond chuckled dryly. The steamboat officials who ply along that coasthave a good deal to ruffle them; and it is exasperating for the masterof a steamer, attracted by flag or fire signal, to anchor off adangerous beach expecting several boat-loads of cargo at least, and thendiscover that the shipper desires only a piece of ice or gratis liquor.
"Better wait for the old _Luala_. She's the canteen ship. Still, we'llsit up until we hear the _Kabunda_'s whistle. It sounds homelike," hesaid.
Gilby nodded approval, for the coast-hunting steamers were the only linkconnecting the two lonely men with civilization, and there were timeswhen they acquired a childish fear of losing all touch with it.
Redmond sat smoking in silence, while Gilby listlessly turned over anold English newspaper, and huge brown cockroaches crawled up and downthe mildewed walls.
"Hallo!" Redmond exclaimed suddenly. "There's a man with boots oncrossing the compound. Who, by all that's wonderful, can it be?"
"The Frenchman from Swamp Creek, looking for drinks," suggested Gilby.
"Guyot's dying of fever this time, sure, his nigger said. There's noother white man within marching distance; but whoever it is is coming upthe stairs!"
Projected against the darkness outside, a strange, bedraggled figurestood in the door. The man's hair was wet and long, the half-closed eyesbeneath it glittered feverishly, and the bones of the haggard faceshowed through the pallid skin. Thorn-rent rags barely decently coveredthe bony limbs beneath them, and the mire of many a league of swampclung about him to the knees. Behind loomed the figure of a negroleaning on a rifle.
Moving unevenly, the stranger advanced into the room, and Redmondpositively recoiled before him.
"Who in the name of perdition are you, and where do you come from?" hegasped.
The newcomer, instead of answering the question, caught at the table ashe asked another:
"What day of the month is this, and have they changed the homewardmailboat's time bill?"
"The tenth, and the _Kabunda_ should pass to-night," said Gilby, staringblankly at him.
"Thank heaven!" was the response. "I am just in time! You ought to knowme. I am Maxwell, and have been prospecting for Niven's gold beyond theLeopards' country."
"Good Lord!" broke from Redmond. "Stir round, Gilby, instead of gapingthere! Fetch out some whisky, and kick up the steward boy! Can't you seethere's a white man starving? Sit down before you fall over, Mr.Maxwell."
Maxwell gulped down a draught of the spirit forced upon him, and sankinto the chair his host dragged forward, while there was a crash and ahowl on the veranda where Gilby fell over the sleeping steward boy.
"He means well, but can't help having been born clumsy," said the traderapologetically. "Lie right back there, and don't talk until you'veeaten. Oh, I see--brought a nigger with you. Tell the cook to stuff theblack man, Gilby."
When food was set before him, Maxwell ate ravenously; then leaningforward in his chair, he looked at his hosts.
"I must thank you for your kindness, and ask another favor," he said."It is of vital consequence that I should catch the _Kabunda_ to-night.I will pay up to twenty pounds for a passage off to her."
The pair stared at him, and there was a sceptical smile on Gilby's lips.It was clear that he doubted the ragged adventurer's ability to redeemhis promise.
"It can't be done," declared Redmond. "Our surf-boat has a plank badlysplit; and if she hadn't there's not a man on all this coast could runyou off to-night."
"Nevertheless, if you will listen a few minutes, and treat what I tellyou in strict confidence, I think one of you will," said Maxwell,determining to trust them in part.
As he told the story, the incredulous smile faded from the faces of hislisteners.
"You can understand the necessity for my desperate hurry now," heconcluded. "My partner is left alone, save for a handful of sicklyniggers, with the bushmen coming down, and his life may depend upon mycatching that steamer. I will leave this packet of gold dust, which Ihad intended to use for traveling expenses, as the price of my passage."
Redmond opened the leather bag tendered him, and Gilby dropped acid uponpart of its contents. Then there was silence, until Redmond spoke with anaive directness which called up the faintest flicker of amusement intoMaxwell's eyes.
"It is quite genuine, and we believe you. Rideau's a hard case, and we'dstake a good deal to get even with him after a certain game he playedus; but our folks at home are so confoundedly particular, and youwouldn't find an agent on the coast willing to speculate in mines beyondShaillu's country. You see, if you let us in, the auditors would set offthe sum against our salary. Steady; I haven't quite finished yet. We'renot fastidious, either of us, but we haven't come down to screwing moneyout of a countryman's necessity; so we're open to do the best we can foryou. Now take back your gold, and be hanged to you!"
"My sentiments, too!" nodded Gilby. "Redmond can talk sensibly when helikes. It looks uncommonly like suicide, but as my place down undercan't be much worse than this one, I'm open to chance drowning with you.I'll go out, and fill my boat boys up with trade gin now. They'retolerably daring beggars, but they'd never face it sober."
An hour later Maxwell and the two traders stood upon the roaring beachamidst a crowd of black men. Steamy spray whirled about them, and veiledhalf the palm-crowned bluff from whose summit a crimson flame leaped up;and each time the white haze thinned, two lights reeled wildly throughthe blackness out at sea. Between these and the beach a succession ofgreat rollers reared their crests of phosphorescent flame, and the hootof the steamer's whistle was but faintly audible through the roar theymade. A picked crew of brawny negroes chattered about the big surf-boatthey held upright on rollers just clear of the surges which raced up thesand.
"It does not look nice. In fact, I've seldom seen it worse, but we'lltake our chances when those big ones have run in," said Gilby. "Get intothe boat Maxwell, and take care when the rest of us follow in a hurrythat we don't fall over you. Hyah you Krooboy, all be fit and ready!"
Huge breakers usually run in series, and when the last of the largerones had crumbled with a thunderous roar, burying the half-mile sweep ofsand in foam from end to end, there was a heaving of muscular shoulders,and clamorous black men floundered waist-deep through the backwashdragging at t
he boat. She was large and heavy, but thirty pairs ofstrong hands made light work, and when a dozen amphibious Kroos hadswung themselves on board the rest toiled almost shoulder-deep inhissing froth while the sand streamed seaward under them. The craft'sstern alone stuck fast, and Redmond shouted himself breathless as hebraced his shoulders beneath her quarter, knowing that unless they coulddrive her clear boat and crew would be rolled over together when thenext sea came in.
"Shove, you black imps, shove before them sharks go chop you!" he cried.
They made a last effort, the boat slid clear. Twelve three-tonguedpaddles smote the water together, and Redmond watched the craft risealmost upright with bows buried in froth and seafire as anothermajestic breaker came rolling in. Then he turned and raced shoreward forhis life, with an acre of foam close behind him. When he halted againthe surf-boat had vanished into the hollow of the sea, but the howlingof those who paddled her, and the helmsman's sulphurous encouragement,rising above the roar of waters, betokened her safety.
"Gilby's no fool in a surf-boat, anyway," he mused, as he went backdripping to the factory.
Another hour had passed when the boat was flung upon the beach with acrash which rent her damaged plank from end to end; and the soaked whiteman who sprang out of her hurried to the factory with his proud displayof two bottles of claret, and one, partly-empty, of liqueur, besides apiece of ice in flannel, and a cigar box.
"The time was too short, or I might have done better," he explained."Had only a few minutes to tax the skipper and mates in, while the oldman wasn't over-pleased about stopping for one passenger. Boat washalf-full when we got alongside, and Maxwell too weak to climb theladder. They hove him on board with the crane, wrong side uppermost, andhalf-dazed apparently. The boat was plunging wildly, and Sorrowful Tomtoo drunk to fix the sling. Taking things all around, it's a mercy wedidn't drown him."
"You're a good man in a boat," Redmond conceded. "Still, you have verylittle sense. Fancy making a run of that kind and coming ashorewith--claret!"
* * * * *
While Dane and Maxwell fought the plague in Africa, Lilian Chattertonand the young clergyman in charge of that parish walked side by sidedown the street of a village in North Britain one afternoon. The villagewas neither picturesque nor prosperous just then, for there was ascarcity of work at the quarries, and for weeks together hard frost hadrendered all stone-cutting impossible. A bitter wind sighed about thelow stone houses which rose dripping in unlovely simplicity from themuddy street, while an air of stolid, uncomplaining poverty was stampedupon the faces of the men who lounged idly where they could find ashelter in the lee of a building. Miss Chatterton had not enjoyed goodhealth that winter, and the surroundings depressed her. Neither did shefind the vista of bleak hillside, snow-streaked moor, and lowering skymuch more cheerful, and she was glad when her companion broke thesilence.
"It is not exhilarating weather, and this has been a hard winter for thepoor," he said. "Unfortunately, we have had rather more of them thanusual with us of late, and the sick would have suffered considerably ifit had not been for your kindness."
"I have done little," Lilian replied; "but they are somewhat hard tohelp."
The Reverend Andrew Rae laughed.
"That is the simple truth. We are not an effusive race, and it sometimeshurts us to receive a favor. Still, though they would rather perish thanexpress it, I fancy most of them would on opportunity prove theirgratitude. I have been wondering if the worthy Robert Johnstone'sopinions have been too much for you, having noticed that his house, orrather, his son's house, is the only one in the village you have notentered. It surprised me, since his daughter used to sew for you, andhas been ailing lately."
"It is some time since Mary Johnstone did any work for me," said Lilian,and the clergyman wondered at the coldness of her tone.
"She is a very hard-working girl, and as she has been lying helpless forseveral weeks, would it not appear unkind if you made her the oneexception? I want you to come in with me now."
Drawing the girl's arm lightly through his own, he marched her up to thedoorway before she quite grasped his intentions, and halted in front ofthe man who lounged there regarding them with undisguised hostility. Hewas not an attractive person, and did not look like an abstainer fromalcoholic liquor, but just then he was evidently in the more aggressivehumor because, for the time being, he was wholly sober.
"We are coming in for a few minutes to see your daughter," announcedRae.
The man did not move an inch, and his person barred the entrance.
"Will ye no wait until ye are invitit?" he inquired sardonically."Still, if there is anything good in yon basket ye can leave it withme."
A grimy hand descended into the basket Rae carried and reappearedclutching the neck of a bottle, while a derisive grin suffused thespeaker's unwashed countenance.
"I'm thinking I'll just keep it with thanks. It's whiles more comfortingthan tracts."
The Reverend Andrew Rae had perhaps studied more than theology at acertain university, for there was a twinkle in his eyes as he laid onehand on Johnstone's wrist.
"Not so fast!" he said. "That is Miss Chatterton's property, and I didnot hear you ask her permission."
He used no apparent violence, but his fingers tightened steadily, andJohnstone gasped with astonishment as he relinquished his hold upon thebottle.
"Am I to be insulted in my own house?" he cried. "Away with ye! A freeman's dwelling is his castle."
"Havers!" exclaimed a voice behind them; and a neatly dressed young manjoined the group. "If it's anybody's castle it's the man's who pays therent, and that's more than Rab Johnstone has done for long, I'mthinking. If ye an' Miss Chatterton are for stepping in to see Mary we'dtake it kindly, sir."
Johnstone senior slouched away down the street, frowning scornfully.
"I am glad to see you have prospered since you took to honest ways,Jim," Rae said.
"It's small thanks to any one but Mr. Dane. He was no too particular tohelp a poor man, ye see."
"Was that it?" asked Rae, a trifle awkwardly. "You are surely notturning back, Miss Chatterton!"
Lilian was certainly about to retreat; but being a young woman ofspirit, she determined to make the best of it when the man, openinganother door, announced:
"Miss Chatterton an' the minister to see ye, Mary."
She entered the poorly furnished room the next moment, but saw nothingof its interior, for her eyes were fixed upon the sick girl, who lay ona dilapidated sofa. Rae noticed the contrast between his companion andthe seamstress. Miss Chatterton was a very dainty figure in costly furs,and the slight trace of haughtiness became her. The seamstress was pale,and hollow in face, with the sign of poverty stamped upon her, for thefaded shawl about her shoulders and the little ragged garment told thesame story.
Rae soon became conscious that there was a latent hostility between thewomen, and he felt it incumbent on him to break the silence.
"I am glad to see you better," he said; "but you should not work toosoon. You must lie still and recover completely, because there are anumber of customers waiting for you. Mrs. Gordon told me she was keepingquite a large order back until you were fit to undertake it."
Lilian had been present when, by dint of dogged persistence, thereverend gentleman had secured a reluctant promise to employ hisprotegee, and she wondered whether all his sex, without exception, couldbe deluded by a pretty face. She was forced to admit that men ofuncultivated taste might consider Miss Johnstone pretty.
"Poor folk cannot afford to be idle long, an' my wee sisters cannot goragged," replied the sick girl. "Still, I'm no complaining. Jim hashelped me bravely, and we're winning through a hard winter well, thanksto the gentleman who befriended him."
Rae observed that the speaker flashed a glance at Miss Chatterton, whoseface remained icily indifferent. Feeling that the situation was becomingstrained, he turned toward the boy.
"Being away at the time, I never quite got to t
he bottom of whatpreceded your acquittal. Do you mind telling me, Jim?"
"It's no great secret, an' all to the credit of the man who helped me.Weel, I was locked up, charged with poaching and wounding."
"Innocently, I hope," said Rae; and there was a trace of Caledoniandryness in Johnstone's reply.
"Ye will mind the saying about speiring no questions and being telt lesslies. Meanwhile two or three others consultit with Lawyer Davidson, andhe said conviction would be certain if Mr. Dane could swear to me.Otherwise, he suspectit I would go free. Then Mary would see Mr. Danefor the sake of the bairns. I was sore against it, but they had mejailed, an' what could I do? Well, she wrote asking him to meet her bythe Hallows Brig, and Mr. Dane e'en promised to do his best for me, an'tell nobody. May be he could no be quite certain. Ye will mind there wasno moon just then, and the night was thick, Mr. Rae."
"I have heard that no man is expected to testify against himself," saidthe reverend gentleman dryly.
"That's what Davidson telt the fiscal," continued Johnstone, with alaugh. "Says he, 'It's the business o' your witnesses to convict him';an' I'm no denying that they did their best, all but Mr. Dane. He juststuck to his story--it was dark, an' while the man he grappled with waslike to me, he could swear to nobody who had just kicked him hard uponthe knee."
Johnstone added further details, and then looked hard at the clergyman,as though expecting him to take up the challenge when he concluded, "Maybe there are folks who lightly Mr. Dane for what he done, but it was himan' no other who made an honest man of me, forby a promotit foreman homeon a holiday."
"I am not a lawyer," said Rae. "It is therefore not my business to judgehim; and you need not stare at me. I already believed Mr. Dane to be akindly gentleman. I am also open to admit that he did more than eitherI or my predecessor could accomplish. We are not, however, all friendsof big contractors, you see."
Johnstone grinned in answer to the last thrust, while Lilian feltthankful that she sat in a shadowy corner, for the simple story whichbore the truth stamped upon the face of it, had stirred her strangely.The action narrated was characteristic of the man who was risking hislife in Africa. She knew that he was very generous, and could be loyalto a pledge, even to his disadvantage. It was equally evident that theyoung workman with his unconcealed dislike to his benefactor's classwould be very unlikely to shut his eyes to any intrigue between Dane andhis sister. Yet, though Lilian was angry with herself for the thought,it was possible that the brother might have been deceived, and she feltthat she must learn the truth. The seamstress said nothing, and itdawned upon Rae that his presence was superfluous; so, making the firstexcuse available, he took his departure, and Johnstone with him.