CHAPTER XI
DESMOND VENTURES A HINT
It was blowing hard, and the deluge which had blotted out the dingydaylight and beaten flat the white spouting along the hammered beachhad just ceased suddenly when Desmond lay upon a settee at the head ofthe _Palestrina_'s companion stairway. Though the long, sandy point tothe north of her afforded a partial shelter, she was rolling savagelywith a half-steam ready and two anchors down. Desmond had wedgedhimself fast with his feet against the balustrade, but he found itsomewhat difficult to remain where he was, and the little room wasuncomfortably hot, though one door and the lee ports were open. Thetwo that looked forward were swept by spray that beat on them like ashot, and overhead funnel-guy and wire rigging screamed in wildarpeggios under the impact of the muggy gale.
The _Palestrina_'s owner was, however, used to that. It rains andblows somewhat hard on that coast at certain seasons, and he had lainthere several weeks growling at the heat and the weather, for he wasalso one of the men who can keep a promise. Just then he had anunlighted pipe and a letter which he had received from Las Palmas amonth earlier in one hand. It was from an Englishman he had broughtout to Grand Canary, and though its contents did not directly concernhim he had given it a good deal of thought once or twice already. Hisforehead grew a trifle furrowed as he opened it again.
"We have been wondering what Lister came back for, and the generalnotion is that you had had enough of him," said his friend. "In anycase, he seems quite content with Las Palmas, and the British colonyare watching his proceedings with quiet interest. After cleaning outseveral Spaniards at the casino he has apparently devoted himself toMiss Ratcliffe's service. It is not evident that he receives a greatdeal of encouragement from the lady herself, but her mother isostentatiously gracious to him. She may have a purpose in this."
Desmond crumpled the letter in one hand. "Crosbie always wasa--tattler, but it's more than possible that he's right," he said.Then he sighed. "And I put Lister on board the mail-boat and sent himthere! If I'd only known what the result would be I'd have drownedhim."
He lay still for another few moments filling his pipe, and then flungthe tobacco pouch across the room, for a sojourn off those beacheswould probably try the temper of most white men, and the Hiberniannature now and then came uppermost in him.
"Damp," he said. "Reeking, dripping, putrid, like everything else onthis forlorn coast! It would be a boon to humanity if somebody boughtthe besotted continent and scuttled it."
He rose to his feet as a man in bedraggled white uniform appeared inthe doorway.
"You were speaking, sir?" he said.
"I was," said Desmond. "I suggested that it was a pity somebodycouldn't torpedo this benighted continent. Any word from the men yousent ashore?"
"They've signaled from the rise," said the _Palestrina_'s mate. "Nosign of him yet. I don't expect them off until to-morrow. The surf'srunning steep." Desmond made a gesture of concurrence as he glanced atthe filmy spray-cloud that drove like smoke up the wet and glisteningbeach. It was flung aloft by a wild white welter of crumbling seas,and he realized that the boat's crew who had gone ashore could notrejoin the _Palestrina_ before the morning, at least. They went everyday to watch for a lumbering ox team or a band of carriers ploddingseaward across the littoral, and it seemed they had once more signaledthat there was no sign of either. Then he moved towards the doorbareheaded, with only an unbuttoned duck jacket over his thin singlet,and the mate ventured a deprecatory protest.
"She's throwing it over her in sheets forward," he said.
Desmond disregarded him, and staggering clear of the deck-house stoodwith feet spread well apart gazing at the stretch of leaden sea while,as the _Palestrina_'s bows went up, the spray that whirled in over herweather rail wet him to the skin. He saw the livid tops of the combersthat rolled by the point and heard the jarring cables ring, and thenturned his eyes shorewards and gazed across the waste of mistylittoral.
"It's a cheerful place, but now and then you feel you might get tolike it," he said. "Perhaps it's the uncertainty as to when the feverwill get you that gives living here a zest. When you come to think ofit, some of us have curious notions."
He appeared to be considering the point as they edged back under thelee of the deck-house, and the mate grinned.
"The men don't take kindly to it, sir," he said. "They've beenworrying me lately as to how long we're stopping here."
"A week," said Desmond. "Ormsgill's time is running out, and he'll behere or send us word by then. He said he would, and what that man saysyou can count on being done."
Something in his tone suggested that the question might be consideredas closed, and they discussed other matters while the deck heaved andslanted under them until a man forward flung up an arm and turnedtowards them with a cry which the wind swept away. In another momentDesmond scrambled half-way up the bridge ladder, and clung there withthe mate close beneath him gazing at the white welter where the seasswept by the point. There was a sail just outshore of it, a littlestrip of gray canvas that appeared and vanished amidst the serriedranks of tumbling combers. It drew out of them and drove furiouslytowards the _Palestrina_, and when a strip of white hull grew intovisibility beneath it Desmond looked down at his mate.
"A big surf-boat. It's Ormsgill," he said.
There was certainty in his tone, as well as a little ring ofsatisfaction which was, perhaps, warranted, for it is, after all,something to be the friend of a man who does just what he has promisedand never arrives too late. In the meanwhile the object they werewatching had grown into a bellying lug-sail that reeled to lee and toweather with the sea streaming from the foot of it, and a patch offoam-swept hull. The boat came on furiously, and when the mate sprangfrom the ladder roaring orders Desmond could see three or four blackfigures through the spray that whirled over her. There was alsoanother man in white garments standing upright in her stern, andDesmond was wholly sure of his identity. Then she was lost for awhile,and only swept into sight again abreast of the _Palestrina_'s dippingbows, hove high with half her length lifted out of the crest of abreaking sea.
She drove forward with it, the foam standing half a man's height aboveher stern and the foot of the slanted lug-sail washing in the brine,while a bent white figure struggled with the great steering oar. Sheswooped like a toboggan plunging down an icy slide when she was levelwith the _Palestrina_'s bridge, and some of the men who watched herfrom the latter's rail held their breath as the smoking sea passed onand another gathered itself together astern of her. The helmsman, theyknew, must bring the dripping, half-swamped boat on the wind to reachthe strip of lee beneath the steamer's stern, and when he did itthere was every prospect of her rolling over.
In another moment several black objects rose and grappled with thelug-sail sheet, and the big boat tilted until all one side of her wasin the air. Then she went up in the midst of a white spouting as theslope of water behind fell upon her. Still, the slanted lug-sail roseout of it, and then came down thrashing furiously while naked blackfigures half-seen in the spray bent from her gunwale with swingingpaddles as she drove towards the _Palestrina_'s quarter. After thatthere was a hoarse shouting, and the lines flew from the reelingtaffrail as she slid under the steamer's stern.
In another minute or two Ormsgill swung himself on board through thegangway. He had no hat, and the water ran from him, but he shook handswith Desmond unconcernedly.
"Ask them to hand that fellow up," he said pointing to a man who sathuddled in the water that swirled up and down inside the plungingboat. "We took rather a heavy one over two or three hours ago, and hebrought up on the after thwart when the big oar jumped its crutch. Ashe's the only Kroo among them, I took the helm myself after that. Idon't fancy he has broken anything."
Desmond hustled him into the deck-house when the negro had beenbrought on deck and the dripping boat rode astern, and an hour laterhe sat at dinner with his comrade in the little white saloon. Darknesshad closed down in the meanwhile, and the lamp that swung above their
heads flung a soft light across the table, where dainty glassware andsilver glittered on the snowy cloth. Ormsgill smiled as he glanced atit and the glowing blotch of color in his wine glass.
"After all, this kind of thing has its advantages, especially when onehas been accustomed to squatting in the wood smoke over a calabash ofpalm oil or some other unhallowed nigger compound," he said. "It's atrifle pleasant to wear clothes that fit you, too. Father Tiebout'sand those Dom Clemente lent me didn't. I had to cut the wrists off thelatter's jacket."
Desmond looked at him reflectively over his cigar, for he hadsomething to say, and was a trifle uncertain as to how he should setabout it.
"Well," he said, "I suppose it is nice for a while, especially, as yousay, when it's a change. The point is, would it satisfy you long?"
"A dinner like this one is generally acceptable."
"We'll admit it. The trouble is that these civilized comforts are aptto cost you something. I mean one has usually to give up somethingelse for the sake of them. You begin to understand?"
"I'm not sure that I do," said Ormsgill. "I'll ask you to go on."
Desmond laughed, though he did not feel quite at ease. He rememberedthe letter in his pocket, and felt that there was a responsibility onhim, and that was a thing which, inconsequent as he was, he seldomshrank from. This was not a man who talked about his duty; in fact,any reference to the subject usually roused in him a sense ofopposition. He contented himself with doing it when he recognized it,and since singleness of purpose is not invariably an efficientsubstitute for mental ability, it was not altogether his fault when attimes he did it clumsily. There was also a subtle bond between him andthe man who sat opposite him. Affection was not the right term, and itwas more than _camaraderie_, an elusive something that could not bedefined and was yet in their case a compelling force.
"Well," he said, "those quagmires and forests up yonder appeal to you.It's a little difficult for any reasonable person to see why theyshould, but they certainly do. So does the sea. The love of it's inboth of us."
He stopped with a lifted hand, and, for the ports were open, Ormsgillheard the deep rumble of the eternal surf on the hammered beach. Healso heard the onward march of the white hosts of tumbling seas, andthe shrill scream of the wire rigging singing to the gale. It was theturmoil of the elemental conflict that must rage in one form oranother by sea and in the wilderness while the world endures, andthere is a theme in its clashing harmonies that stirs the hearts ofmen. Ormsgill felt the thrill of it, and Desmond's eyes glistened.
"Lord," he said, "we're curiously made. What in the name of wonder isit that appeals to us in driving a swamping surf-boat over thosecombers, or standing on the bridge ramming her full speed into it withthe green seas going over her forward and everything battened down?Still, there is something. While we can do that kind of thing we can'tstay at home."
Ormsgill smiled curiously. He was acquainted with some of thecharacteristics of the wild Celtic strain, and knew that his comradenow and then let himself go. "I think," he said, "considering whereyou come from, you should understand it more readily than I can do."
"You're not exempt," said Desmond, "you cold-blooded Saxons. What didyou run that boat down the coast under the whole lug-sail for whenshe'd have gone nearly dry with two reefs tied down?"
"I don't know. Still, she lost the wind in the hollows. One had tokeep her ahead of the seas."
Desmond laughed scornfully. "Is that it? When the boy went down withthe breath knocked out of him as she took in a green sea, somethingcame over you as you grabbed the steering oar. You went suddenlycrazy, fighting crazy. You'd have rolled her over or run her underbefore you tied a reef in."
He stopped a moment, and made a little gesture as of one throwingsomething away. "Still, you'll have to give all that up when you marryand settle down, though it's a little difficult to imagine you goinground in a frock coat and tight patent boots, growing fat, andoverfeeding yourself like a--Strasburg goose. I suppose it is yourintention to be married some day?"
"I believe it is," said Ormsgill quietly.
Desmond laid down his cigar and looked at him. "Well, I may be ondangerous ground, but when I get steam up I seldom allow a thing likethat to influence me. Anyway, I've been worrying over you lately. Thequestion is--are you going to marry the right girl, one who would takeyou as you are and encourage you to be more so? It isn't every womanwho could put up with a man of your kind, but there are a few."
His comrade's expression might have warned another man, but Desmondwent on.
"I don't know if my views are worth anything, and some of my friendsdoubt it, but you shall have them. After all, the matter's rather animportant one. The wife for you is one who would sympathize with yournotions even if she knew they were crazy ones, because they wereyours, and when they led you into lumber, as such notions generallydo, stand beside you smiling to face the world and the devil. Thereare such women. I've met one or two."
There was silence for a moment or two when he stopped, and Ormsgill,gazing straight before him with vacant eyes, saw a dark-eyed girl withdusky hair and a face of the pale ivory tint sitting where themoonlight streamed in between a colonnade of slender pillars. As ithappened, Desmond saw her, too, and sighed. Then Ormsgill seemed torouse himself.
"I am," he said, "going to marry Miss Ratcliffe, as I think you mustbe quite aware."
Desmond could have laughed. He fancied that it would have been almostwarranted, but he laid a restraint upon himself. "Then," he said, "ifyou have both made up your minds and the thing is settled what in thename of wonder are you wandering about Africa for? The fact that youlike it doesn't count. Why don't you go back--now--to her? It wouldbe considerably wiser."
Ormsgill looked at him with half-closed eyes. "I'll have to ask you tospeak plainly."
"I'll try," and Desmond made a little deprecatory gesture. "There arewomen it isn't wise to leave too long alone. They were not made tolive that way, and if they find it insupportable you can't blame them.How many years is it since Miss Ratcliffe has had more than a fewweeks of your company, and is it natural that a young woman should bequietly content while the man she is to marry wanders through theseforests endeavoring to throw his life away? Besides that, the thingmight very possibly not commend itself to her mother."
The lines grew a trifle deeper on Ormsgill's forehead, and his eyeswere grave. "I have," he said, "been a little afraid of what hermother might do myself."
"Then why don't you go across to Grand Canary and make sure shedoesn't try to influence the girl? Isn't it only reasonable that sheshould expect you to be there and save her all unpleasantness in caseof anything of that kind happening?"
Ormsgill said nothing for several minutes, but it was borne in uponhis comrade that his efforts had been thrown away. He had, however,after all, not expected them to be successful. At length Ormsgillspoke quietly.
"I can't go," he said. "Domingo has carried those boys away into theinterior and I pledged myself that they should go home when theirtime was up. As it is, unless I can take them from him they will bedriven to death in a few years. For that, I think, I should be heldresponsible."
He rose with a little sigh. "Dick," he said, "I have this thing to do,and even if it costs me a good deal it must be done. I am going backinland, and may be three or four months away. You can't stay here.After all, I don't know that I shall have much difficulty in gettingthe boys out of the country when I come down again."
Desmond smiled. "I may go to Las Palmas or Madeira, but I'll be herewhen you want me. We can fix that later. It seems to me I've saidquite enough to-night."
Then they went up the companion, and Ormsgill talked of other mattersas they sat under the lee of the deck-house, and watched the whiteseas sweep out of the darkness and vanish into it again.