CHAPTER XXII
FUNNEL-PAINT'S PROPOSITION
Deep stillness hung over the dingy mangroves, and there was not a breathof air astir, while Austin, who lay among the palm oil puncheons besidethe creek, was oppressed by a sense of suffocation. A few yards away twoSpaniards lay, apparently asleep, huddled, shapeless heaps of raggedclothing, beneath a strip of tarpaulin raised on poles, and it was then,though there was no sun visible, a little past the hottest part of theafternoon. A yellow vapour that seemed suffused with heat had obscuredthe heavens for a week or more, and the swamps lay sweltering beneath itwaiting for the rain. Austin longed for it ardently, for there was analmost unendurable tension in the atmosphere.
He had shaken off the fever, but he was worn and dazed by toil, for thestrain was not without its effect upon him, and he had become subject tocurious tricks of fancy. He had brought the coal from Dakar, and it nowlay piled upon a down river beach; but he had obtained only two or threemen, and the steamy heat of the swamp belt had melted the sustainingenergy out of the _Cumbria_'s company. Individually, he felt that it wasa hopeless struggle they were making. They had untrammelled natureagainst them, and, he could almost fancy, the malevolent spirits of thebush the negroes believed in. A man, he admitted, could believe inanything in that country, and he had of late been troubled by a feelingthat something sinister and threatening was hovering near him.
He was unpleasantly conscious of it then, which was partly why he layraised on his elbow, with his eyes fixed on the bush that shut in thenarrow strip of land. It rose before him, laced with tangled creepers,mysterious, and shadowy, and it seemed to him that somebody or somethingwas watching him from its dim recesses. He had been conscious of thesame sensation when he plodded with a Spanish seaman along the narrowtrail to the dug up beach, an hour earlier, but it was stronger now, andinstinctively he slipped his hand into a pocket where the pistol he hadbought in Grand Canary lay. Then he laughed in a listless fashion, forthey had seen no more of the negroes since the blowing up of theheadman's house, and he felt that he had not them to fear. There was, infact, no tangible cause for apprehension at all.
Presently something seemed to materialise amidst the shadows where thecreepers streamed from a cottonwood in dense festoons, and, lying still,with fingers closing on the pistol, he could almost fancy he made out adim human form. There was, at least, one black patch among the leavesthat suggested greasy naked skin. It vanished again, however, andAustin, who felt his heart beating, abused the intolerable glare thesand flung up that dazzled his vision, and then stiffened himself intenser watchfulness as for a moment he made out a pair of rolling eyes.The creepers rustled, a twig snapped, and he was about to call out, whenone of the Canarios raised himself a trifle.
"Ave Maria!" he said, with drowsy hoarseness, and, though the words arefrequently used to express astonishment in his country, it was evidentthat he meant them as a pious appeal.
In any case, the creepers became suddenly still again, and Austin, whorose a trifle stiffly, found nothing when he pushed his way through themidst of them. There was no sound in the steamy bush, not a leaf seemedbruised or bent, and he went back again, with the perspiration drippingfrom him. Nevertheless, he was annoyed to notice that the Canario waswatching him curiously.
"Nothing!" he said, with a dramatic gesture. "Nothing that one can see."
"What do you mean?" asked Austin sharply.
The Canario flung out an arm again. "Who knows! Though one cannot seeit, it comes now and then. There are evil things in this land of thedevil, and the saints are very far away. This is no place for them."
Austin sat down again and took out his pipe. He felt that there wasnothing to be gained by continuing the discussion, for of late he hadbecome almost superstitiously apprehensive himself. He lay watching thebush for another hour, and then, though it was the last thing he hadintended, went to sleep. He had borne a heavy strain, and his will wasweakening.
It was dark when he was awakened by a splash of paddles as the_Cumbria_'s surfboat crept up the creek with the relief watch, andanother hour had passed when they made the craft fast alongside thegangway and climbed wearily on board the steamer. There was no sound orlight on board her, for half the crew were sick, and the pump hadstopped. She lay, a black mass, amidst the sliding mist, and he stumbledover the kernel bags upon her slanted deck as he groped his way to hisroom in the poop. It was seldom he or Jefferson slept soundly now, andas they only awakened each other, Austin had moved to a room aft.
He lighted the oil lamp and flung himself, dressed as he was, into hisberth, but found he could not sleep, though he could not remember howlong he lay awake listening. He could hear mysterious splashings in theforest and the low gurgle of the creek, while now and then a timbercreaked, or a drop of moisture fell from the iron beams with a splashthat startled him. At last, when his eyes were growing heavy, there wasa different and very faint sound on deck, and as he raised himself thedoor that stood a little open swung back gently. The lamp was stillburning, for he found the light comforting, as white men areoccasionally apt to do in that country, and it was with a little gasp ofrelief he felt for the pistol beneath his pillow as Funnel-paint camein. He was almost naked, and the water ran from him, but the strip ofcloth about his loins was bound by a leather belt, with a sheath hung toit such as seamen wear, and the knife from the latter gleamed in his wethand. He, however, dropped it upon the deck, and squatted on thewater-ledge that rose a foot beneath the door. Austin watched himquietly, for he was, at least, not afraid of Funnel-paint.
"What the devil do you want?" he said.
"Halluf them gum," said the negro, with a wicked grin.
"How are we to give it you when we haven't found a bag of it?"
The negro grinned again. "S'pose I done tell you where him lib?"
"If you knew why didn't you get it for yourself?"
Funnel-paint shook his head. "Them book I got savvy--I no savvy make himtell me," he said. "You dash me halluf them gum you get them book."
Austin lay silent, resting on one elbow, for a moment or two. He knewthat book means anything which is written on in that country, and itoccurred to him that if the gum had been hidden ashore, it was veryprobable that the man who buried it had made a rough sketch or otherrecord of the spot. The document, it was conceivable, might have comeinto the negro's possession. Still, he was suspicious.
"There's another boy who speaks English in the headman's village," hesaid.
"Him only dam bushman--no savvy book, no savvy anyt'ing. Him themheadman's boy. Headman he want everyt'ing."
"Ah!" said Austin, who was more dubious about his visitor's good faiththan ever, since it was clear that it was his intention to trick hisconfederate out of his share of the plunder. "I suppose, since you swamoff, you haven't the book about you?"
The negro let one eyelid droop a little. "You t'ink black man one damfool?"
"No," said Austin, reflectively, "if you understand me, I should rathercall you an infernal rogue. Any way, you lib for get out one time, andcome back to-morrow. I'll palaver with them other white man by then,savvy?"
Funnel-paint unobtrusively laid a wet prehensile toe upon the haft ofthe knife, but Austin, who was careful not to betray the fact, noticedit.
"Them other white man he do go dash me anyt'ing," he said decisively. "Isavvy him. S'pose you done tell him you no go catch them book?"
"Then how do you fancy I'm going to give you half the gum without hisknowing?"
Funnel-paint grinned unpleasantly. "Bimeby them white cappy man he die,"he said, as though he were sure of it. "White man sick too much in discountry. I savvy."
Austin contrived to hold in check the indignant wrath he felt. A man'slife, he was quite aware, was worth very little in those swamps; and,because he placed some small value on the one that belonged to him, itwas evidently advisable to proceed circumspectly. Funnel-paint was, herecognised, a diplomatist in his way, and had said very little, thoughthat was sufficient to show Austin what hi
s proposition meant. It was,at least, clear that he was to ask no questions if anything unexpectedhappened to Jefferson, and in reward of this he would be permitted tocarry off half the gum. It appeared that Funnel-paint was sure of itsexistence, or he would never have ventured to creep on board at night atall, and Austin decided that since he certainly could not be trusted,the boldest course was best. The rage he felt also prompted him to it,and he lay still, considering, with a hand beneath the pillow, and aflush in his face, while the negro squatted, huge and motionless, on thedoor-ledge, watching him with a little cunning smile. It seemed toAustin that it would simplify matters considerably if he could secureFunnel-paint's person, though he could not quite see how it was to bedone, especially since it was evident that the negro would be no use tothem dead.
In the meanwhile there was deep stillness without, intensified by theoily gurgle of the creek, until Austin fancied he heard another faintand stealthy sound on deck. Funnel-paint did not appear to notice it,which was, it seemed to Austin, significant, for he sat still, thoughwith a scarcely perceptible motion he drew the knife a little nearer tohim with his toe. Austin decided that the proposition he had made was,after all, probably a blind, and the friends he had expected were nowarriving.
"Keep still!" he said abruptly, whipping out the pistol.
The negro started, and would apparently have fallen backwards in hisalarm had he not seized the edge of the cushion on the settee in a wethand. Then he gazed at Austin as though in bewilderment orconsternation.
"Bushman lib!" he said.
He glanced towards the open ring of the port, and for a second Austinturned his eyes in the same direction, but that was long enough, for thebig cushion of the settee fell upon his head, and he rolled over underit. It was a moment or two before he had flung it from him and sprungout of his berth, and then there was no sign of Funnel-paint, though hecould hear a rush of feet and the sound of a scuffle on deck. They werealso booted feet, and Austin ran out into the black darkness beneath thepoop. He could see nothing for a moment, but he heard a hoarseejaculation that was followed by a splash in the creek. Then a shadowyfigure grew out of the blackness, and he dropped the pistol to his sideat the sound of an English voice.
"All right, Mr. Austin?" it said.
"I am," said Austin. "Is that you, Bill?"
The half-seen man assured him that it was, and then followed him backinto the lighted room, where he sat down and held up a hand from which ared trickle dripped down his arm.
"The dam brute's got away," he said. "P'r'aps you could fix this up forme."
Austin lugged a little chest out from under the settee, and glanced atthe injured hand. "Nothing serious, though I have no doubt it stings,"he said. "You were in one sense lucky in getting it there. How did youhappen to come along?"
"It was my watch," said Bill. "I had just come down from the bridge-deckwhen I thought I heard talking, and that brought me here as quietly as Icould. If I'd had the sense to take my boots off I'd have had him. Igripped him by the rail, but he shoved the knife into my hand and slunghimself over."
Austin bound his hand up, and then looked at him thoughtfully.
"I don't think there's anything to be gained by letting the othersknow," he said. "Any way, I'd consider it a favour if you said nothingabout the thing until I've talked it over with Mr. Jefferson."
Bill grinned comprehendingly. "I'll tell Tom, but nobody else. We haveour own little row with the vermin, and the next time I get my grip onhim there'll be an end of him!"
He went out, and by and by Austin contrived to go to sleep, while it wasnext day, and they sat in the dripping engine room, from which the waterwas sinking, when he told Jefferson what had passed. The latter listenedthoughtfully, and then broke into a little hollow laugh.
"It seems to me that you missed your chance," he said. "Funnel-paintknows a good deal--I have guessed that for some time--but he has foundout he can't get at the gum without one of us helping him, at last. Thatis probably why he has left us alone so long. He wasn't sure whetherthere was any of it on board the ship, and was, naturally, willing thatwe should decide that point for him."
"What would he gain by that?" asked Austin.
"The gum!" and Jefferson laughed again, but not pleasantly. "He's aninconsequent devil, but he seems to have scraped up a little sense as hewent on with the game. You see, white men are apt to die off suddenly inthis country, and I scarcely think that anybody who could make troubleknows we're here. Any way, there's no unusual need for worry. It onlymeans double watches."
"Still, one could fancy you had a good deal on your mind."
"I have. We have stripped this ship all but the engine room to theballast tanks--there was, you may remember, a manhole lid lifted on theforward one, which may account for some of the water getting in--and thefive hundred dollars I raised the offer to hasn't produced a pound ofgum. Half the men are down now, and we can't send them all away, whileeven if we wanted to they're most of them unwilling to go. They're askeen on their share--and it's quite a big one--as I am. Then we'll havethe rains on us in a week or two."
Austin sat silent awhile. He knew that the feverish search for thetreasure had stirred the cupidity of the Latins until they were asdetermined on finding it as their leader. Nothing else was thought of,the sick men raved of it, and, in any case, those who had held out solong and staunchly had their percentage on the value of the steamer'shull and cargo to gain. It meant comparative affluence to the barefootedsailormen. That, however, was only one side of the question, after all,for while their willingness was evident, their physical capacity forwork was lessening every day.
"The rains will flood every beach," he said. "If we don't find the gumbefore they come, what then?"
"If it's necessary, we'll stay here until the water falls again. Thatis, at least, some of us will."
Austin rose up slowly with a little sign of comprehension. Two men hadbeen buried while he was away, and he did not think that many of themwould be left there to see the waters fall.