THE FLOWERING OF THE STRANGE ORCHID
The buying of orchids always has in it a certain speculative flavour.You have before you the brown shrivelled lump of tissue, and forthe rest you must trust your judgment, or the auctioneer, or yourgood-luck, as your taste may incline. The plant may be moribund ordead, or it may be just a respectable purchase, fair value for yourmoney, or perhaps--for the thing has happened again and again--thereslowly unfolds before the delighted eyes of the happy purchaser, dayafter day, some new variety, some novel richness, a strange twistof the labellum, or some subtler colouration or unexpected mimicry.Pride, beauty, and profit blossom together on one delicate greenspike, and, it may be, even immortality. For the new miracle of Naturemay stand in need of a new specific name, and what so convenient asthat of its discoverer? "Johnsmithia"! There have been worse names.
It was perhaps the hope of some such happy discovery that madeWinter-Wedderburn such a frequent attendant at these sales--that hope,and also, maybe, the fact that he had nothing else of the slightestinterest to do in the world. He was a shy, lonely, rather ineffectualman, provided with just enough income to keep off the spur ofnecessity, and not enough nervous energy to make him seek any exactingemployments. He might have collected stamps or coins, or translatedHorace, or bound books, or invented new species of diatoms. But, as ithappened, he grew orchids, and had one ambitious little hothouse.
"I have a fancy," he said over his coffee, "that something is going tohappen to me to-day." He spoke--as he moved and thought--slowly.
"Oh, don't say _that_!" said his housekeeper--who was also his remotecousin. For "something happening" was a euphemism that meant only onething to her.
"You misunderstand me. I mean nothing unpleasant ... though what I domean I scarcely know.
"To-day," he continued, after a pause, "Peters' are going to sell abatch of plants from the Andamans and the Indies. I shall go up andsee what they have. It may be I shall buy something good, unawares.That may be it."
He passed his cup for his second cupful of coffee.
"Are these the things collected by that poor young fellow you told meof the other day?" asked his cousin as she filled his cup.
"Yes," he said, and became meditative over a piece of toast.
"Nothing ever does happen to me," he remarked presently, beginningto think aloud. "I wonder why? Things enough happen to other people.There is Harvey. Only the other week; on Monday he picked up sixpence,on Wednesday his chicks all had the staggers, on Friday his cousincame home from Australia, and on Saturday he broke his ankle. What awhirl of excitement!--compared to me."
"I think I would rather be without so much excitement," said hishousekeeper. "It can't be good for you."
"I suppose it's troublesome. Still ... you see, nothing ever happensto me. When I was a little boy I never had accidents. I never fell inlove as I grew up. Never married.... I wonder how it feels to havesomething happen to you, something really remarkable.
"That orchid-collector was only thirty-six--twenty years younger thanmyself--when he died. And he had been married twice and divorced once;he had had malarial fever four times, and once he broke his thigh. Hekilled a Malay once, and once he was wounded by a poisoned dart. And inthe end he was killed by jungle-leeches. It must have all beenvery troublesome, but then it must have been very interesting, youknow--except, perhaps, the leeches."
"I am sure it was not good for him," said the lady, with conviction.
"Perhaps not." And then Wedderburn looked at his watch. "Twenty-threeminutes past eight. I am going up by the quarter to twelve train,so that there is plenty of time. I think I shall wear my alpacajacket--it is quite warm enough--and my grey felt hat and brown shoes.I suppose--"
He glanced out of the window at the serene sky and sunlit garden, andthen nervously at his cousin's face.
"I think you had better take an umbrella if you are going to London,"she said in a voice that admitted of no denial. "There's all betweenhere and the station coming back."
When he returned he was in a state of mild excitement. He had made apurchase. It was rare that he could make up his mind quickly enough tobuy, but this time he had done so.
"There are Vandas," he said, "and a Dendrobe and some Palaeonophis."He surveyed his purchases lovingly as he consumed his soup. They werelaid out on the spotless tablecloth before him, and he was telling hiscousin all about them as he slowly meandered through his dinner. Itwas his custom to live all his visits to London over again in theevening for her and his own entertainment.
"I knew something would happen to-day. And I have bought all these.Some of them--some of them--I feel sure, do you know, that some ofthem will be remarkable. I don't know how it is, but I feel justas sure as if someone had told me that some of these will turn outremarkable.
"That one"--he pointed to a shrivelled rhizome--"was not identified.It may be a Palaeonophis--or it may not. It may be a new species,or even a new genus. And it was the last that poor Batten evercollected."
"I don't like the look of it," said his housekeeper. "It's such anugly shape."
"To me it scarcely seems to have a shape."
"I don't like those things that stick out," said his housekeeper.
"It shall be put away in a pot to-morrow."
"It looks," said the housekeeper, "like a spider shamming dead."
Wedderburn smiled and surveyed the root with his head on one side. "Itis certainly not a pretty lump of stuff. But you can never judge ofthese things from their dry appearance. It may turn out to be a verybeautiful orchid indeed. How busy I shall be to-morrow! I must seeto-night just exactly what to do with these things, and to-morrow Ishall set to work."
"They found poor Batten lying dead, or dying, in a mangrove swamp--Iforget which," he began again presently, "with one of these veryorchids crushed up under his body. He had been unwell for some dayswith some kind of native fever, and I suppose he fainted. Thesemangrove swamps are very unwholesome. Every drop of blood, they say,was taken out of him by the jungle-leeches. It may be that very plantthat cost him his life to obtain."
"I think none the better of it for that."
"Men must work though women may weep," said Wedderburn with profoundgravity.
"Fancy dying away from every comfort in a nasty swamp! Fancy being illof fever with nothing to take but chlorodyne and quinine--if men wereleft to themselves they would live on chlorodyne and quinine--and noone round you but horrible natives! They say the Andaman islanders aremost disgusting wretches--and, anyhow, they can scarcely make goodnurses, not having the necessary training. And just for people inEngland to have orchids!"
"I don't suppose it was comfortable, but some men seem to enjoy thatkind of thing," said Wedderburn. "Anyhow, the natives of his partywere sufficiently civilised to take care of all his collection untilhis colleague, who was an ornithologist, came back again from theinterior; though they could not tell the species of the orchid and hadlet it wither. And it makes these things more interesting."
"It makes them disgusting. I should be afraid of some of the malariaclinging to them. And just think, there has been a dead body lyingacross that ugly thing! I never thought of that before. There! Ideclare I cannot eat another mouthful of dinner."
"I will take them off the table if you like, and put them in thewindow-seat. I can see them just as well there."
The next few days he was indeed singularly busy in his steamy littlehothouse, fussing about with charcoal, lumps of teak, moss, and allthe other mysteries of the orchid cultivator. He considered he washaving a wonderfully eventful time. In the evening he would talk aboutthese new orchids to his friends, and over and over again he revertedto his expectation of something strange.
Several of the Vandas and the Dendrobium died under his care, butpresently the strange orchid began to show signs of life. He wasdelighted and took his housekeeper right away from jam-making to seeit at once, directly he made the discovery.
"That is a bud," he said, "and presently there will be a lot of lea
vesthere, and those little things coming out here are aerial rootlets."
"They look to me like little white fingers poking out of the brown,"said his housekeeper. "I don't like them."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. They look like fingers trying to get at you. I can'thelp my likes and dislikes."
"I don't know for certain, but I don't _think_ there are any orchids Iknow that have aerial rootlets quite like that. It may be my fancy, ofcourse. You see they are a little flattened at the ends."
"I don't like 'em," said his housekeeper, suddenly shivering andturning away. "I know it's very silly of me--and I'm very sorry,particularly as you like the thing so much. But I can't help thinkingof that corpse."
"But it may not be that particular plant. That was merely a guess ofmine."
His housekeeper shrugged her shoulders. "Anyhow I don't like it," shesaid.
Wedderburn felt a little hurt at her dislike to the plant. But thatdid not prevent his talking to her about orchids generally, and thisorchid in particular, whenever he felt inclined.
"There are such queer things about orchids," he said one day;"such possibilities of surprises. You know, Darwin studied theirfertilisation, and showed that the whole structure of an ordinaryorchid-flower was contrived in order that moths might carry the pollenfrom plant to plant. Well, it seems that there are lots of orchidsknown the flower of which cannot possibly be used for fertilisation inthat way. Some of the Cypripediums, for instance; there are no insectsknown that can possibly fertilise them, and some of them have never befound with seed."
"But how do they form new plants?"
"By runners and tubers, and that kind of outgrowth. That is easilyexplained. The puzzle is, what are the flowers for?
"Very likely," he added, "_my_ orchid may be something extraordinaryin that way. If so I shall study it. I have often thought of makingresearches as Darwin did. But hitherto I have not found the time, orsomething else has happened to prevent it. The leaves are beginning tounfold now. I do wish you would come and see them!"
But she said that the orchid-house was so hot it gave her theheadache. She had seen the plant once again, and the aerial rootlets,which were now some of them more than a foot long, had unfortunatelyreminded her of tentacles reaching out after something; and they gotinto her dreams, growing after her with incredible rapidity. So thatshe had settled to her entire satisfaction that she would not see thatplant again, and Wedderburn had to admire its leaves alone. They wereof the ordinary broad form, and a deep glossy green, with splashes anddots of deep red towards the base. He knew of no other leaves quitelike them. The plant was placed on a low bench near the thermometer,and close by was a simple arrangement by which a tap dripped on thehot-water pipes and kept the air steamy. And he spent his afternoonsnow with some regularity meditating on the approaching flowering ofthis strange plant.
And at last the great thing happened. Directly he entered the littleglass house he knew that the spike had burst out, although his great_Palaeonophis Lowii_ hid the corner where his new darling stood.There was a new odour in the air, a rich, intensely sweet scent, thatoverpowered every other in that crowded, steaming little greenhouse.
Directly he noticed this he hurried down to the strange orchid. And,behold! the trailing green spikes bore now three great splashes ofblossom, from which this overpowering sweetness proceeded. He stoppedbefore them in an ecstasy of admiration.
The flowers were white, with streaks of golden orange upon the petals;the heavy labellum was coiled into an intricate projection, and awonderful bluish purple mingled there with the gold. He could see atonce that the genus was altogether a new one. And the insufferablescent! How hot the place was! The blossoms swam before his eyes.
He would see if the temperature was right. He made a step towards thethermometer. Suddenly everything appeared unsteady. The bricks on thefloor were dancing up and down. Then the white blossoms, the greenleaves behind them, the whole greenhouse, seemed to sweep sideways,and then in a curve upward.
* * * * *
At half-past four his cousin made the tea, according to theirinvariable custom. But Wedderburn did not come in for his tea.
"He is worshipping that horrid orchid," she told herself, and waitedten minutes. "His watch must have stopped. I will go and call him."
She went straight to the hothouse, and, opening the door, called hisname. There was no reply. She noticed that the air was very close, andloaded with an intense perfume. Then she saw something lying on thebricks between the hot-water pipes.
For a minute, perhaps, she stood motionless.
He was lying, face upward, at the foot of the strange orchid. Thetentacle-like aerial rootlets no longer swayed freely in the air, butwere crowded together, a tangle of grey ropes, and stretched tightwith their ends closely applied to his chin and neck and hands.
She did not understand. Then she saw from under one of the exultanttentacles upon his cheek there trickled a little thread of blood.
With an inarticulate cry she ran towards him, and tried to pull himaway from the leech-like suckers. She snapped two of these tentacles,and their sap dripped red.
Then the overpowering scent of the blossom began to make her headreel. How they clung to him! She tore at the tough ropes, and he andthe white inflorescence swam about her. She felt she was fainting,knew she must not. She left him and hastily opened the nearest door,and, after she had panted for a moment in the fresh air, she had abrilliant inspiration. She caught up a flower-pot and smashed in thewindows at the end of the green-house. Then she re-entered. She tuggednow with renewed strength at Wedderburn's motionless body, and broughtthe strange orchid crashing to the floor. It still clung with thegrimmest tenacity to its victim. In a frenzy, she lugged it and himinto the open air.
Then she thought of tearing through the sucker rootlets one by one,and in another minute she had released him and was dragging him awayfrom the horror.
He was white and bleeding from a dozen circular patches.
The odd-job man was coming up the garden, amazed at the smashing ofglass, and saw her emerge, hauling the inanimate body with red-stainedhands. For a moment he thought impossible things.
"Bring some water!" she cried, and her voice dispelled his fancies.When, with unnatural alacrity, he returned with the water, he foundher weeping with excitement, and with Wedderburn's head upon her knee,wiping the blood from his face.
"What's the matter?" said Wedderburn, opening his eyes feebly, andclosing them again at once.
"Go and tell Annie to come out here to me, and then go for DoctorHaddon at once," she said to the odd-job man so soon as he brought thewater; and added, seeing he hesitated, "I will tell you all about itwhen you come back."
Presently Wedderburn opened his eyes again, and, seeing that he wastroubled by the puzzle of his position, she explained to him, "Youfainted in the hothouse."
"And the orchid?"
"I will see to that," she said.
Wedderburn had lost a good deal of blood, but beyond that he hadsuffered no very great injury. They gave him brandy mixed with somepink extract of meat, and carried him upstairs to bed. His housekeepertold her incredible story in fragments to Dr Haddon. "Come to theorchid-house and see," she said.
The cold outer air was blowing in through the open door, and thesickly perfume was almost dispelled. Most of the torn aerial rootletslay already withered amidst a number of dark stains upon the bricks.The stem of the inflorescence was broken by the fall of the plant, andthe flowers were growing limp and brown at the edges of the petals.The doctor stooped towards it, then saw that one of the aerialrootlets still stirred feebly, and hesitated.
The next morning the strange orchid still lay there, black now andputrescent. The door banged intermittently in the morning breeze, andall the array of Wedderburn's orchids was shrivelled and prostrate.But Wedderburn himself was bright and garrulous upstairs in the gloryof his strange adventure.