CHAPTER V.WHAT IS SHE LIKE?
"So sweet a face, such angel grace,In all that land had never been."
"So sweet a face, such angel grace,In all that land had never been."
"So sweet a face, such angel grace,In all that land had never been."
"So sweet a face, such angel grace,In all that land had never been."
"So sweet a face, such angel grace,
In all that land had never been."
Helenfound her reception a most trying ordeal. She was very cordially welcomed by the General, who instantly came forward to meet her, and escorted her towards Mrs. Creery; she ran the gauntlet of two groups of men who were standing on the tennis-ground, ostensibly discussing the recent mail, but naturally watching the new arrival, who was the cynosure of every eye, as she passed by; and approached a row of seats on which the ladies—a still more formidable phalanx—were seated in state. Mrs. Creery (who occupied the social throne in the shape of a stuffed arm-chair) now rose majestically, and, like Cedric the Saxon, advanced two steps, saying in her most dulcet company voice, "Veryglad you have come, Miss Denis; I amcharmedto welcome you to Port Blair!"
Helen blushed vividly. Was this august, this almost regal, individual, the same who had questioned, exhorted, and warned her, a few hours previously? She could scarcely believe it! But this was merely her ignorance. That visit had been made in a private capacity, here Mrs. Creery was in a public and responsible position—that of chief lady of the station.
She now took Helen's hand in hers, and proceeded to present her to her immediate circle.
"Mrs. Caggett, let me introduce Miss Denis."
Mrs. Caggett rose, made a kind of plunge, intended for a curtsey, and subsided again, muttering incoherently.
"Miss Denis, Mrs. Graham. Mrs. Graham is our musician. She sings and plays most beautifully!"
Mrs. Graham, who was a pretty brunette, with lovely teeth, shook hands with Helen, and smiled significantly, as much as to say, "You must not mind Mrs. Creery."
"Miss Denis, Mrs. King.—Mrs. King has a nice little girl, and lives at Viper."
"Miss Denis, Mrs. Logan, our authoress." Poor Mrs. Logan blushed till the tears came into her eyes, and said,—
"Oh, Mrs. Creery,pleasedon't."
"Nonsense, nonsense! Miss Denis, she has written thesweetestpoetry—one really exquisite ode, called, let me see, 'The Lifer's Lament,' and numbers of charming sonnets! You must get her to read them to you, some day."
Alas for Mrs. Logan! who in a moment of foolish expansiveness had mentioned her small poems (under the seal of secrecy) to another lady, and had, to her horror, "awoke and found herself famous!"
"Mrs. Manners, Miss Denis," and she paused, as if deliberating on what she could possibly say for Mrs. Manners.
"Please don't mind aboutme, Mrs. Creery," exclaimed that lady. "You know that I neither play, nor sing, nor write poetry."
Mrs. Manners was a sprightly person, regarded by Mrs. Creery with suspicion and dislike, and she now glowered on her menacingly.
"I am very glad to see Miss Denis, and I hope she will overlook my numerous deficiencies!" quoth Mrs. Manners unabashed.
All the ladies had now been, as it were, "told off," excepting Miss Caggett, who approached and squeezed Helen's fingers, and looked up in her face, and said,—
"Sothankful, dear, that you have come! It's so wretched for me, being the only girl in the settlement. You can't think how I have been looking forward tothis," another squeeze.
Miss Lizzie Caggett was small in person (and mind) and had a very pretty little figure, black hair, bright, reddish-brown eyes, an ugly nose, and an almost lipless mouth, garnished with beautiful teeth. She had been born in India, had had three years at school in England, and been "out" for a considerable number of seasons. She danced like a sylph, talked Hindostani like a native (and it was whispered that she gossipped with her ayah in that language), dressed extravagantly, was as lively as a French-woman, and sufficiently nice-looking to be considered a beauty—where she was the only unmarried lady among fifty men.
She had a shrewd eye to the main chance, and never allowed her feelings to betray her, save, alas! in the case of James Quentin!
He, from sheer lack of something to do, had been wont to spend his idle hours in Miss Caggett's society. She was amusing and lively, and said such deliciously spiteful things of other women, and told capital stories, accompanied by vehement gesticulation with her tiny hands. She had also a nice little voice,—and it came to pass that they sang duets together, and walked on the pier by moonlight alone!
Mr. Quentin meant nothing, of course, and at first Lizzie quite understood this, but by degrees her strong foothold of common sense slipped away from under her feet, and she fell desperately in love with the blue-eyed gay deceiver, and naturally tried to convince herself that it was mutual! She steeled herself to see him pay a littleattention to the rising sun—Miss Helen Denis—they wouldalldo that, but when the novelty had worn off, things would right themselves, and fall back into their old places—meaning that Mr. Quentin would fall back into his,i.e., at her side. Mrs. Creery had previously broken the news to her that "Helen Denis was nice-looking, and beautifully dressed," but she was by no means prepared for the face and figure she beheld coming up the walk; and James Quentin in attendancealready,—actually before she was twenty-four hours on the island! However, she made a brave struggle, and bit her lips, and clenched her small hands, and broke into a smile. She had made up her mind to be the bosom friend (outwardly), and, if possible, the confidante of this tall, shy-looking Denis girl!
After all, who could expect her to be pleased, to see a young and pretty rival monopolizing every one's attention, and thrusting her into the background?
When all the introductions had been effected, a game of tennis was got up, and a number of little Andamanese boys, in white tunics and scarlet caps, came forward from some lurking-place, to field the balls, and the settlement band, which was stationed at the end of the plateau, struck up their latest waltz, and presently the entertainment was in full swing. Every one played tennis, even Mrs. Creery, who was old or young as it suited her at the moment—old enough to ask questions, to give advice, and to lay down the law, and to be treated with unquestioning deference and deep respect; sufficiently young to waltz, to wear sailor hats, and to disport herself at tennis. Helen had been the championess player at Miss Twigg's, and played well. Lizzie Caggett's sharp eyes noted this, and after a little while she challenged her to a single set there and then.
Vainly did Helen decline to pick up the gauntlet, vainly did she beg to be excused; Mrs. Creery threw the weight of her authority into the scale, and the match was to come off immediately.
"A capital idea, a match between the two girls," she remarked to the General; "there will just be time for it before tea."
Before Helen could realize her position, a ball was thrust into her hand, a crowd had gathered around, and she alone stoodvis-à-visto Lizzie Caggett on the tennis-ground. It was one thing to play in Miss Twigg's back-garden, with no spectators but Miss Twigg's girls, but quite another affair when one of the principals in a contest, before forty complete strangers, and pitted against a determined-looking antagonist, who knew every inch of the courts, and was firmly resolved to try conclusions with this brilliant visitor!
And so the match began, the assembled bystanders watching each game intently, and hanging expectant on the issue of each stroke. The excitement grew intense, for the ladies were well-matched, the play was brilliant, and the games hard fought. Helen served well, and had a longer reach of arm than her challenger, but the other played with an energy, a vivacity, and if one might say so, a spitefulness,—as if the issue of the contest was a matter of life and death. She scored the first game, Helen the second and third, and during a rally in the latter, the new arrival was loudly clapped. This incited Miss Caggett to extraordinary exertions. She played with redoubled fire, her teeth were set, her eyes gleamed across the net, she served as though in hopes that she would strike her opponent in the face; she flitted up and down her court, springing and bounding, like a panther in a cage! Her style was by no means graceful, but it was effectual. During the last two games she wearied out Helen, with her quick, untiring onslaught, playing the final, and conquering game, with an exuberance of force that was almost fierce! When it was over, she threw down her bat and clapped her hands, and cried,—
"Oh, I knew I could beat you." This was not, strictly speaking, polite, but her triumph was so great, she really could not refrain from this little song of victory. In her own heart, she had made a kind of test of the match, and told herself that, if she conquered the new-comer inthis, she would be invincible in other things as well!
After this exciting struggle, tea and refreshments were served in a rustic summer-house. Mrs. Creery's dog Nip—who had occupied hismistress's chair as deputy, and eyed the cake and bread and butter with demure rascality,—was now called upon to vacate his place, whilst his owner dispensed tea and coffee, and servants carried round cakes and ices. As Helen was partaking of one of the latter, her late antagonist accosted her and said,—
"Come and take a turn with me, dear. All the men are having 'pegs,' and I do so want to have a chat with you.
"Well, now," taking her arm affectionately, "tell me what you think of the place?"
"I think it is beautiful," returned Helen with enthusiasm. "I've never seen anything like it. Of course I've seen very little of the world, and am not a good judge, but I scarcely think that any scenery could surpass it," glancing over towards Mount Harriet as she spoke, and dreamily watching the peacocks sailing homewards.
This speech was a disappointment to Miss Caggett, who was in hopes that she would have called it an "unearthly, outlandish, savage hole, a gaol!" And then she would have imparted this opinion to the settlement at large,—and such an opinion would have scored a point against Miss Helen.
"Oh," she replied, "you won't think it delightful always. It's frightful in the monsoons, that is in the rains, you know. And how do you like the people?"
"I scarcely know them yet."
"Well, at least you know Mr. Quentin," eyeing her sharply.
"Yes, I have known him anhour," she replied with a laugh.
"He is nice enough," speaking with assumed nonchalance, "but as you can see, awfully conceited, isn't he?"
Helen did not fall into the trap; if she had, Miss Caggett would have lost no time in giving Apollo the benefit of Miss Denis's impressions with regard to him!
She only said, "Is he?" and, leaning her elbows on the wooden railing that fenced in the edge of the cliff, looked down upon the sea.
"A great many men are here from Aberdeen and the out-stations,"proceeded Miss Caggett with a backward jerk of her head, "but they did not come over altogether to seeyou."
"I should hope not indeed," returned Helen, reddening.
"No, the mail is in, so they kill two birds with one stone," continued the other, coolly. "They are not a bad set, though they may seem rough and unpolished to you, don't they?"
"Really, I am no judge; I have scarcely ever spoken to a gentleman in my life."
"Gracious!" ejaculated Miss Caggett. "You weren't in a convent?"
"No; but what amounted to the same thing, I spent all my holidays at school."
"Oh,howslow for you! Well, you will find this rather a change. There is Dr. Malone, an Irishman, and very amusing; he has any amount of impudence, and has thought of a lovely name for Mrs. Creery—Mrs. Query—isn't it splendid? We all call her that, for she never stops asking questions, and we all have to answer them whether we like it or not—all but one; there is one person she never gets anything out of, he is too close even for her, and clever—I grant him that,—much as I detest him!"
"And who is this clever man that baffles Mrs. Creery?"
"A Mr. Lisle, a genteel loafer, a hanger-on of Mr. Quentin's; he actually has not got the money to pay his passage back to Calcutta, and so he is obliged to stay. His manners are odious, polite to rudeness, if you know what that means? and he has eyes that seem to look down into your inmost thoughts, and laugh at what they see there! I hate him, though he is extremely anxious to be civil to me, and, in fact, I don't mind telling you in confidence that he is a greatadmirerof mine,—but it's by no means mutual. Whatever you do, have nothing to say to him. I need not tell you, thatInever speak to him!"
"We cannot permit you two young ladies to monopolize each other in this fashion," said the General, approaching with a telescope in his hand. "Would you like to look at some of the islands through this glass, Miss Denis? I can introduce you to several this fine clear evening.Havelock looks quite close!"
"It seems to be very large," she said, after a long struggle with the focus.
"Well, yes, it is; we will take you there some day in theEnterpriseif you like. TheEnterpriseis the station steamer."
"Thank you, I should like it very much indeed, if it issafe—I mean, if the people are safe," she replied rather anxiously.
"Oh! you will see very little of the natives. They are a curious set; it is almost impossible to get at them, or to tame them."
"Have you ever tried?"
"Yes; we once had a young fellow from Havelock, as it happened; we showed him every kindness, gave him the best of food, loaded him with beads and every old tall hat on the island, but it was all ofnouse; he just fretted like a bird in a cage, and regularly pined away of home sickness.—He used to sit all day long, gazing, gazing over the sea in the direction of his home, and one morning when they went to see him, they found him sitting in his usual attitude, his face turned towards Havelock—quite dead!"
"Poor, poor fellow!" said Helen, with tears in her eyes; "howcouldyou be so cruel, how could you have had the heart to keep him?"
"My dear young lady, it was not a matter of heart, but of duty."
Mr. Quentin's quick ear caught the significant wordheart. Surely the General was never going to enter the lists against him, although he was unmarried and eligible beyond dispute? Leaning his elbows on the rail at the other side of Miss Denis, he resolved to make a third—welcome or otherwise—and said,—
"You are talking of the natives, sir? They are certainly most mysterious aborigines, for they do not resemble the Hindoos on one side, nor the Malays on the other. They are more like stunted niggers—you never see a man above five feet, some not more than four."
"Niggers, yes," replied the General; "there is some idea that theyare descendants of the cargo of a slaver that was wrecked among these islands; other people think that they hail from New Guinea."
"They have very odd customs, have they not?" asked Helen.
"Yes," replied the General; "their mode of sepulture, for instance, is peculiar. When a man dies, they simply put his body up a tree."
("Whence the slang term 'up a tree,' I suppose," muttered Mr. Quentin,sotto voce.)
"And when the fowls of the air have picked his bones, they remove the remains, and present his skull to the widow, who wears it round her neck, slung to a string."
"But will freely part with it at any time," added Dr. Malone, who had now joined the group, "aye, even in the early days of her affliction, in consideration of a bottle of rum."
"And pray what about themen?" inquired Helen, jealous for her sex.
"Oh, their tastes are comparatively simple," responded the doctor; "they are all a prey to a devouring passion for—you will never guess what—tall hats! I believe some firm in Calcutta drives a brisk trade with this place and the Nicobars, bartering old tiles for cocoa-nuts. When a chief dies, he can have no nobler monument in the eyes of his survivors than a pile of tall hats impaled above his grave. They are almost the only article they care about, and I suppose they have an idea that it endows them with dignity and height; besides the hat, a few rags, and a necklace of human finger-bones, and their costume is complete."
"They have another weakness," put in the General—"dogs. We get rid of all the barrack curs in that way."
"What! toeat?" almost screamed Miss Denis.
"No, no; they are very much prized—merely to look at. I wish to goodness we could export that brute of Mrs. Creery's!"
"She would far sooner be exported herself!" said Dr. Malone. "What was his last feat, sir?"
"I wish I could believe that itwashis last," returned the General angrily. "The other day, when Mrs. Creery was dining up at my place,she unfortunately shut him up in the drawing-room, and for sheer spite at missing the meal, he tore up a valuable fur rug, gutted the seats of two chairs, and ate the best part of the last army list! Yes, you may laugh, Miss Denis, and it certainly sounds very funny—but you don't know Nip."
"No, butIdo," cried Dr. Malone. "He lies down and feigns death if he sees a larger dog coming in the distance, and will murder any unfortunate pup of half his size; some dogs have a sense of chivalry, generosity, gratitude, but he is abrute!"
"Yes," chimed in Mr. Quentin, "if things are not going to his liking, he adjourns to Creery's dressing-room, and devours a couple of pairs of boots; that is to say, tears and gnaws them to pieces, just to mark his sense of injury. If they only disagreed with him!—but they don't, and Creery can't even have the poor satisfaction of licking him; for whenever Nip sees him arming himself with a stick, he at once fastens on his leg, believing the first blow to be half the battle!"
"A portrait from life!" exclaimed Dr. Malone. "I wish I might be allowed a shot at him at 100 yards!"
"I wish you might; and if you do get the chance, I'll wink at it," returned the General; "he is an insufferable nuisance—a savage, mean, mischievous, lazy, cowardly——"
"Now, now, General," cried Nip's mistress, coming across the grass in a swinging walk, her arms dangling loosely at her sides, "what is all this wonderful laughing about? and who are you abusing—man, woman, or child? It's seldom that you say a word against any one! Come, who is it? Shall I guess who is mischievous, lazy, andmean? Now really you might letmeinto the secret, when it's known to Miss Denis. Can it be any one in Ross? Dear me!"—with sudden animation,—"I have it!—it's——"
Of course she was just about to exclaim "Mr. Lisle," when the General hastily interrupted her, saying, "We were not talking scandal; it was merely a little joke of ours"—looking appealingly at Dr. Malone and Helen, who were choking with suppressed laughter—indeed the very railings behind the former were shaking dangerously,—"it was onlya miserable jest, Mrs. Creery," reiterated the General, nervously (seeing that her mind was bent on dragging the secret from his bosom), "that was all, really, you know. And, by-the-way," lowering his voice, and speaking confidentially, "I wanted to consult you about something—about getting up a little dinner for Miss Denis."
To be consulted, and by the General, was much to Mrs. Creery's mind, so she immediately walked aside with him, prepared to give her whole attention to the discussion. It now was nearly eight o'clock, and people were leaving. Helen was escorted to her own door by Dr. Malone and Mr. Quentin, Colonel Denis once more bringing up the rear, but this time he had a companion—Miss Caggett. Mr. Quentin lingered below the steps of the verandah, and squeezed Helen's fingers as he took a very reluctant leave of her. He half hoped that he would have been earnestly requested to honour them with his company at dinner, but this hope was doomed to disappointment, he was dismissed by Colonel Denis with a careless nod! Later on, as Helen sat alone in the verandah, and looked out over the sea, recalling the scenes of this most wonderful, eventful day, and dwelling on all the new faces she had seen and the strange things she had heard, it is an extraordinary, but veracious fact, that—with the perversity common to her sex—she cast more than one thought to a man she had been twice warned against in the same afternoon, in short, Mr. Quentin's pauper-friend, Gilbert Lisle.
Meanwhile Mr. Quentin had been rowed over to Aberdeen, had climbed the hill in capital spirits, and with a healthy appetite; and had found his companion already at home, reposing in an arm-chair in front of the bungalow, smoking. He fully expected to be severely cross-examined about his visit, and on the subject of Miss Denis, and was prepared to enter into the fullest details, and to paint the lady in the richest tints, but, alas! a disappointment awaited him. Lisle never once referred to Ross—much less to the young lady. He had had a big take of fish, and had caught three bottle-nosed sharks off the Red Buoy—bait,hooks, and nets engrossed his mind entirely.
Mr. Quentin was seriously affronted. Was ever such callousness known? could such indifference be matched? Indifference that would not even take the trouble to ask such a simple question as "What is she like?"