“That’s—what I—want to know,” he mumbled.
“No? Is that so? you done too? Poor Luke! how sad to think your confidence should have been misplaced. It’s a treacherous world.” The captain turned to me. “Mr. Paine, I believe you are the only person who can give us precise information as to the present whereabouts of the Great Joss.”
“I?”
I stared at him amazed.
“Yes, you. I’ll tell you why I think so.”
(CAPTAIN MAX LANDER SETS FORTH THE CURIOUS ADVENTURE WHICH MARKED THE VOYAGE OF THE “FLYING SCUD.”)
I’veno faith in your old wives’ tales. Not I. But the luck was against us. Everything went wrong from the first. And there’s no getting away from the fact that we sailed on a Friday.
The weather in the Bay was filthy. Our engines went wrong in the Red Sea. We lay up at Aden for a week. There was a bill as long as my arm to pay. Then when we got out into the open the weather began again. Never had such a run! It was touch and go for our lives. One night, half-way between Ceylon and Sumatra, I thought it was the end. We had more than another touch off the Philippines. By the time we reached Yokohama we were a wreck—nothing less.
The ship ought to have been overhauled before we started. But the owners wouldn’t see it. They insisted that a patch here, and a coat of paint there, would meet the case. But it didn’t. Not by a deal. As we soon found. At Aden, after all, the engines had only been tinkered. They went wrong again before we had been three days out. The weather we had would have tried the best work that ever came out of an engineer’s shop. Those nailed together pieces of rusty scrap iron worried the lives right out of us. If we had gone to the bottom they would have been to blame.
We were late at Yokohama. A lot. The agents didn’t like it, nor the consignees either. There were words. After all I’d gone through I wasn’t in a mood to take a jacketing for what wasn’t any fault of mine. So I let them see. The result was that there were all round ructions. I admit that, under severe provocation, I did go farther than I intended. And I did not mean to knock old Lawrence down. But it was only by the mercy of God I had brought the ship into port at all. And it was hard lines to meet nothing but black looks, and words, because I hadn’t performed the impossible.
Lawrence resented my knocking him down. David Lawrence was our agent; a close-fisted, cantankerous Scotchman. I own I ought to have kept my hands off him. But when he started bullyragging me on my own deck, before the crew, as if I was something lower than a cabin boy, when I had had about enough of it, which wasn’t long, I let fly, and over he went.
I was sorry directly afterwards. And when he gave me to understand that not a ha’porth of stuff should come aboard that boat while I was in command, I swallowed the bile and started to apologise. Not much good came of that. As soon as my nose was inside his office he began rubbing me the wrong way. The end of it was that I nearly knocked him down again. And should have quite if his clerks hadn’t kept me off him. After that I knew the game was up. I knew that nothing worth having would come my way at Yokohama. I got drunk for the first time in my life. The ship was eating her head off for port dues. I slipped her moorings and ran out to sea.
What I was to do I had not the faintest notion. I was perfectly well aware that I might as well sink her where she was as to take her back as good as empty. If I didn’t lose my certificate it would be no further use to me, because that would be the last command that I should ever have. I took her to Hong Kong on the off chance of picking something up. But, as I had half expected, news ofThe Flying Scudhad travelled ahead. There was nothing but the cold shoulder waiting for me all along the line. I did get a few odds and ends, but nothing worth speaking of, and I cleared out of Hong Kong for the same reason I had cleared out of Yokohama.
Yet, though I should scarcely have thought it possible, there was worse to follow.
The men, like their captain, were in a bad temper. Which was not to be wondered at. They were pretty near to mutiny. If they got all the way I should be landed indeed. Not that I minded. I was beyond that. I slept with one loaded revolver under my head, and another in my hand. Possibly a bit of a scrimmage would have had the same effect on me as a little blood-letting. I should have been the better for it afterwards.
I confess I did not know where I was going. I crawled along the Chinese coast with some dim idea of gaining time. Given time I might be able to form some sort of reasonable plan. One thing was sure, I had no intention of going home to be ruined. If that was to be the way of it, I could be ruined just as well where I was. Better perhaps. I sneaked through the Hainan Strait. A day or two after we ran out of water.
Just where we were I am not prepared to say. That’s the truth. No lies! The coast was strange to me. I know the China Seas perhaps as well as a good many men, but I had never been in the Gulf of Tongkin before. I will say this, we were not a thousand miles from Lienchow.
We were still hugging the coast when they told me the stores were out. I ordered them to take her in as close as she could be got. A little delay more or less didn’t matter a snap of the fingers to me. I had got as far that. Considering we weren’t over-coaled it was pretty far. It was a lovely evening, a Friday as it happened—I must have been born on a Friday! In about a couple of hours the sun would be setting, so, if we were quick, there would be time to get something aboard before the night was on us. And quick would have to be the word, because, in the forecastle they had reached pretty nearly their last biscuit.
I am not excusing myself. I own I could not have managed worse if I had tried. I knew all along the stores were running short. I had refused to refit at Hong Kong out of pure cussedness. What I said was that if the lubbers wouldn’t ship their cargo, I wouldn’t buy their stores. And I didn’t. I meant to take in fresh supplies when we had a chance. We had not had a chance as yet. But now that we had come down to nothing it was clear that we must get something, if it was only enough to take us along for a day or two.
Fortunately the sea was calm, the anchorage good. We were able to run close in. Directly a boat was lowered the men started off as if they were rowing for grub-stakes. Which they were.
So far as I could see the country thereabouts was uninhabited. If that was the case, it was a poor look out for us. But as it was a shelving shore, with trees crowning the crest as far as the eye could reach, it was possible that both houses and people might be close at hand though hidden from sight. Which, if I wished to avoid further trouble, was a state of things devoutly to be desired.
I saw the boat reach land, men get out of it, climb the slope, disappear from view. And then, for more than three mortal hours, I saw no more of them. It was pretty tedious waiting. Every man-jack on board kept a keen look-out. Discipline was not so good as it might have been—for reasons. There was no conspicuous attempt, as the minutes crept slowly by, to conceal the apparently general impression that it was a case of bunk; that those sailor men had thought it better to throw in their lot with the natives of those parts, rather than to continue the voyage with me. At the bottom of my boots I felt that if such was the fact it was not for me to say that they were fools.
However, it proved not to be the fact. Sometime after darkness had fallen, just as I was concluding that it would perhaps be as well to send a second boat in search of the first, and take command of it myself, boat No. 1 returned. It was greeted with language which might be described as hearty. They had had some luck, brought something in the victual line. Without any reference to my authority a raid was made on what they had brought. I said nothing, not caring what they did. If they wanted to keep themselves alive, what did it matter to me?
The boat had been in command of a man named Luke. At Yokohama I had had a few words with the first mate, and sent him packing. At Hong Kong there was a difference of opinion with the second, he went after the first. As the third fancied himself ill, and thought he’d try the hospital ashore for a change, it looked as if we were going to be under officered. There was a handy man aboard who called himself Luke. Just Luke. I didn’t know much about him, what I did know I didn’t altogether like. But, as I say, he was a handy man. One of those chaps who can drive an engine or trim a sail. He knew something about navigation. Said he had a mate’s certificate, but I never saw it, and never had any reason to believe anything he said. Anyhow, being in a bit of a hole I took his word for it, and first mate he was appointed.
Some little time after he’d come aboard I was sitting in my cabin, feeling, as usual, like murder or suicide, when there was a tapping at the door. It was Luke.
“Beggin’ pardon, captin, but can I have a word with you?”
“Have two.”
He had three—and more. He stood, looking at me in the furtive, sneaking way he always had, twiddling his cap with his fingers like a forecastle hand.
“Excuse me, captain, but I don’t fancy as how you’ve been overmuch in luck this trip.”
“My dear Mr. Luke, whatever can have caused you to imagine a thing like that?”
“Well—it’s pretty obvious, ain’t it?”
He grinned. I could have broken his head.
“Is it for the purpose of imparting that information that I am indebted to the pleasure of your presence here?”
“Well no; it ain’t.” He scraped his jaw with his hand, as if to feel if it wanted shaving, which it did. “The fact is, I shouldn’t be surprised if you chanced upon a bit of luck still, if you liked.”
“If I liked! You’re a man of humour.”
“It’s this way.” He hesitated, as if doubtful as to the advisability of telling me which way it was. “It all depends upon whether you’d care to run a trifle of risk.”
“After what I’ve gone through it’d have to be a pretty big trifle of risk which would prevent me snatching a chestnut out of the fire.”
“That’s what I thought.”
He cleared his throat.
“Get on, man, get on!”
“It’s this way.”
“You’ve said it’s this way, but you haven’t said which way.”
“There’s a—we’ll say party, as wants a passage to England, bad.”
“Where is this party?”
“Over there.”
He nodded his head in the direction of the shore.
“Who is this party?”
“That’s where it is; he’s a Joss.”
“A Joss? What do you mean? What are you grinning at? Don’t try to play any of your damfool jokes with me, I’m not taking any.”
“It’s no joke, captain; it’s dead earnest. The party is a Joss, and that’s where it is.”
“What do you mean by a Joss?”
“It seems that a Joss is a sort of a kind of a god of the country, as it were.”
Luke’s grin became more cavernous.
“Are you suggesting that we should raid a temple; is that what you’re after?”
“Well, no, not quite that. This party, although a Joss, is an Englishman.”
“An Englishman!”
“Yes, an Englishman; and having had enough of being a Joss he wants to get back to his native land, ‘England, home and beauty,’ and that kind of thing, and he’s willing to pay high for getting there.”
“Where’s the risk?”
“Well, it seems that the people in these parts think a good deal of him, and they don’t care to have their gods and such-like cut their lucky whenever they think they will. Besides, he wouldn’t want to come empty-handed.”
“How do you mean?”
Luke glanced round, as if searching for unseen listeners. His voice sank.
“I didn’t manage to get more than half-a-dozen words, as it might be, with the party in question——”
“How did you manage to get those?”
The dear man’s face assumed a crafty look.
“Well, it was a kind of accident, as it were; but that is neither here nor there. From what I’m told there’s a slap-up temple on the other side of the hill, what’s crammed with the offerings of the faithful. This here party’s been a good time in the neighbourhood, and through their thinking a lot of him, as I’ve said, they’ve brought him heaps and heaps of presents. It’s them he wants to take away with him.”
“If they’re his who’s to say him no?”
“Well, there’s a lot of other coves about the temple, and they won’t allow they are his. Anyhow, they’d raise hell-and-Tommy if they knew he thought of taking them to England.”
“I see. As I supposed at first, it’s a big steal you’re after.”
“It’s hardly fair to call it that, captain. The things are his. It’s only those other blokes’ cussed greediness.”
“It is that way sometimes. One man says things are his which other people claim; then, poor beggar, he gets locked up because they are so grasping. What is he disposed to pay for taking him and his belongings?”
“Just whatever you choose to ask.”
In Luke’s eyes, as they met mine, there was a peculiar meaning.
“Then he’ll find his passage an expensive one.”
“I don’t think you’ll find there’ll be any trouble about that. You get him and his safe to England, and I shouldn’t be surprised but what you’d find, captain, that you’d made a good voyage after all. The only thing is, there’s no time to be lost. He’s in a hurry. He’s not so young as he was, and he’s about as sick of this neighbourhood as he can be.”
“He can come aboard at once if he likes.”
“Well, that would be sharp work, wouldn’t it? But I don’t know that it can be done quite so quick as that. You see, there’s a good deal of stuff, and it’s got to be got away, and without any fuss. But I tell you what, captain, he would like to have a word with you, if so be as you wouldn’t mind.”
“Where is he? Did you bring him with you in the boat?”
“No, I didn’t do that. He ain’t a party as can go where, when, and how he likes. There’s eyes upon him all the time, and there’s other things. But I do know where he’s to be found, and I did go so far as to say that if so be you was willin’ I’d bring you straight back to him right away, and then you might talk things over; I did make so bold as to go as far as that.”
“Do you wish me to understand that he’s waiting for me now?”
“Well, that’s about the size of it.”
“I’ll come.”
I went.
Nevershall I forget that row in the moonlight. It was one of those clear, soft, mysterious nights, which one sometimes gets in those latitudes, when the air seems alive with unseen things. One’s half shy of talking for fear of being overheard. I’m no hand at description, but those who have been in those parts know the sort of night I mean. I was not in a romantic mood, God knows. Nor, so far as I could see, was there much of romance about the expedition. But I had been brooding, brooding, brooding, till things had got into my blood. As I sat there in the boat I felt as if I were moving through a world of dream.
We had brought a funny crowd. At the back of my mind, and I felt sure at the back of Luke’s, was the feeling that if the thing had to be done at all then the quicker it was done the better. It was a case of taking time by the forelock.The Flying Scudhad a ragged crew. The Lord alone could tell what was the nationality of most of them. Out of the bunch we had picked the best. There was the chief engineer, Isaac Rudd. He had shipped with me before. I knew him, and that he wouldn’t stick at a trifle. A man who had had to wrestle with such engines as ours wasn’t likely to. In a manner of speaking he was as deep in the ditch as I was; because if things had gone wrong his share of the blame was certainly equal to mine. If there was a chance of levelling up then we were both about as eager to snatch at it. Then there was Holley, Sam Holley, whom I had made second mate. Though he was a fat man, with a squeaky voice, I was hoping there were not too many soft streaks in him. There was his chum, Bill Cox, the very antipodes of himself. A shrivelled-up little fellow, with a voice like a big bassoon. Those two always went together.
Lord knows who the rest were. Though I had a kind of an inkling that Luke had done his best to see there were no shirkers, I had not breathed a syllable about the game we were after. But Luke might have dropped a hint. There was that about the fellows which to me smelt like business. And I felt sure that each man had about him somewhere something which would come in handy to fight with.
Still, I knew nothing about that. The impression I had wished to convey was that we were enjoying a little moonlight excursion, and that if anything was about, it was peace and mercy.
We reached shore. I spoke to them as Luke and I were getting out.
“You chaps will stay here. Mr. Holley, you’ll be in command and see that there’s no roving. Mr. Rudd, you will come with us to the top of the hill. Mr. Luke and I are going to see a friend on a little matter of business. If you hear a double catcall, or the sound of firearms, or anything that makes you think that we’re not altogether enjoying ourselves, you pass the word at once. Then you chaps will come on for all you’re worth. Leave one man in charge of the boat; that’s all.”
We then went up the slope. At the top we left Rudd, with a final tip from me to keep his eyes skinned, and his ears open. Luke and I plunged right away into what seemed to me to be a trackless forest. How he could find his way in it, considering he had only been there once in his life before, and then in broad daylight, was beyond my understanding. But there were one or two things about St. Luke which I couldn’t make out, either then or afterwards. Anyhow he forged his way ahead as if he had been used to the place from his cradle up. Never seemed puzzled for a moment.
Presently we reached an open space. The moon shone down so that it was as light as day. Only there was a fringe of outer darkness all around. Luke made a queer noise with his lips. I suppose it was some sort of bird he was imitating. He repeated it three times; with an interval between each. Then something came out of the darkness which took me all aback.
It was a woman.
When she first appeared she had something white over her, head and all. Coming close up to us, drawing the covering aside with a dexterous switch, she stood bareheaded. I stared in amazement. I had not known there were such women in the world. I stammered to Luke—
“Who’s this?”
To my astonishment she answered—in English a thousand times better than mine. It was a treat to listen to her.
“It is I.”
Off came my cap in a twinkling.
“I beg your pardon. I had no idea I was to meet a lady.”
“A lady? Am I a lady? Yes?” She laughed. She alone knew what at. Such laughter! “I am Susan.”
Susan! She was as much a Susan as I was a Jupiter. I said then, and I say now, and I shall keep on saying, she was the loveliest creature I had ever seen even in—I won’t say dreams, because I don’t dream—but in pictures. She was straight as a mast. Carried herself as if she were queen of the earth; which she was. Yet with a dainty grace which for bewitching charm was beyond anything I had ever imagined. And her eyes! They were like twin moons in a summer sky. As I looked at her every nerve in my body tingled.
She added, since she saw me speechless:
“I am the daughter of the gods.”
That was better. She was that. The daughter of the gods—as she put it herself. I could have dropped at her feet and worshipped. But she went on:
“You are from the ship? You are the captain?”
“I am Max Lander.”
“Max Lander?” She repeated my name in a sort of a kind of a way which made everything seem to swim before my eyes. “It is a good name. We shall be friends.”
“Friends!”
She held out her hands to me. As I took them into mine, Lord! how I shivered. I fancy she felt me shaking by the way she smiled. It made me worse, her smile did. She kept cool through it all.
“Shall we not be friends?”
“My dear lady, I—I hope we shall.”
Talk about being at a loss for words! I could have poured out thousands. Only just then my dictionary had all its pages torn out, and I didn’t know where to lay my hand upon one of them.
“It is my father you have come to see.”
“Your father?”
I had forgotten what had brought me. Everything but the fact that she was standing there, in the moonlight, within reach of me, had passed from my mind. Her words brought me back to earth with a bang. Her father? Was it possible that I had come to see her father? She, the daughter of the gods; what manner of man must be her sire? I stuttered and I stammered.
“I—I didn’t understand I’d come to see your father.”
“He is the Great Joss.”
“The Great Joss?”
What on earth did she mean? What was a Joss, anyhow, great or little? I had heard of joss-sticks, though I only had a hazy notion what they were. But a real live Joss, who could be the father of such a daughter, was a new kind of creature altogether. She offered no explanation.
“He waits for you. I am here to bring you to him. Come.”
She fluttered off among the trees.
“Luke,” I whispered as we followed, “this is not at all the sort of thing I was prepared for.”
“She’s a fine piece, ain’t she?”
A “fine piece!” To apply his coarse Whitechapel slang to such a being! It was unendurable. I could have knocked him down. Only I thought that, just then, I had better not. I preserved silence instead.
It was like a page out of a fairy tale; we followed the enchanted princess through the wood of wonders. The gleaming of her snow-white robes was all we had to guide us. Shafts of light shot down upon her through the trees. When they struck her she shone like silver. She moved swiftly through the forest; out of the darkness into the light, then into the dark again. No sound marked her passing. She sped on noiseless feet. While Luke struggled clumsily after her.
She took us perhaps a quarter of a mile. Even as we went I wondered if Isaac Rudd upon the hill-top would hear us should we find ourselves in want of aid. How help would reach us if he did. One would need to be highly endowed with the instinct of locality to follow us by the way which we had come. A rendezvous hidden in a primeval forest, as this one seemed to be, might not be found easy of access by any sailor man.
She stopped; waiting till we came close up to her.
“It is here. Be careful; there is a step.”
It was only when she opened a door, and I perceived the shimmer of a dim light beyond, that I realised that we were standing in the shadow of some kind of building. The darkness had seemed to be growing more opaque. Here was the explanation. If it had not been for her we should have knocked our heads against the wall. Nothing betrayed its neighbourhood; not a light, not a sound. If it had been placed there, cheek by jowl with the towering trees, with the intent of concealing its existence as much as possible from the eyes of men, the design had been well conceived and carried out. At night no one would suspect its presence. How it would be by day I could not tell. I doubted if it would be much more obvious then. It was no hut. As I glanced above me it seemed to be of huge proportions. Its blackness soared up and up like some grim nightmare. What could it be?
Our guide entered. I followed; Luke brought up the rear. It was some seconds before I began to even faintly understand what kind of place it was which we were in. Then I commenced to realise that it must be some kind of heathen temple. Its vastness amazed me. Whether it was or was not exaggerated by the prevailing semi-darkness I could not positively determine. To me it seemed to be monstrous. Height, breadth, length, all were lost in shadows. Wherever I looked I could not see the end. Only a haunting impression of illimitable distance.
The door by which we had entered was evidently a private one. There was only space for one at a time to pass. To such an edifice there must have been another entrance, to permit of the passage of large crowds. Though I could not guess in which direction it might be. Columns rose on every hand. I had a notion that they were of varied colours; covered with painted carvings. But whether they were of wood, stone, or metal I could not say. Their number added an extra touch of bewilderment. One gazed through serried lines and lines of columns which seemed to bridge the gathering shadows with the outer darkness which was beyond.
Until our guide moved more towards the centre of the building, with us at her heels, I did not understand where the light which illumined the place came from. It proceeded from what I suppose was the altar. The high altar. A queer one it was. And imposing to boot. Anyhow, seen in that half light, with us coming on it unprepared, and not expecting anything of the kind, it was imposing, and something more. I don’t mind owning that I had a queer feeling about my back. Just as if someone had squeezed an unexpected drop of water out of a sponge, and it was going trickling down my spine.
There was some fascinating representations of what one could only trust were not common objects of the seashore. These were of all sizes. Some several times as large as life, and, one fervently hoped, a hundred times less natural. They stood for originals which, so far as my knowledge of physiology goes, are to be found neither in the sea, or under it; on the earth, or over it; or anywhere adjacent. The powers be thanked! They were monsters; just that, and would have been excellent items in a raving madman’s ideal freak museum. Anywhere else they were out of place. There was one sweet creature which particularly struck my fancy. It was some fourteen or fifteen feet high, and was about all mouth. Its mouth was pretty wide open. It would have made nothing of swallowing a Jonah. And was fitted with a set of teeth which were just the thing to scrunch his bones.
These pretty dears were arranged in a semicircle, each on a stand of its own. The small ones were outside. They grew bigger as they went on, until, by the time you reached the biggest in the middle, if you were a drinking man you were ready to turn teetotaler at sight. The hues they were decked in were enough to make you envy the colour blind. Coming on this livening collection without the slightest notice, in that great black mystery of a place, with just light enough to let them hit you in the eye, and hidden in the darkness you knew not what besides, was a bit trying to the nerves. At least it was to mine. And I’m not generally accounted a nervous subject.
The strangest thing of all was in the centre. I stared at it, and stared; yet I couldn’t make out what it was.
It was on a throne; if it wasn’t gold it looked like it. It was large enough for half-a-dozen men. Standing high. Right in the middle, flanked by the biggest pair of monsters, the seat was on a level with the tops of their heads. It was approached by a flight of steps, each step apparently of different coloured stone. Coloured lamps were hung above and about it. One noticed how, in the draughty air, they were swinging to and fro. From these proceeded all the light that was in the place, except that here and there upon the steps were queer-shaped vessels, seemingly of copper, in which something burned, flashing up now and then in changing hues, like Bengal lights. From them, I judged, proceeded the sickly smell which made the whole place like a pest-house. And the smoke was horrid.
In the very centre of the throne was something, though what I could not make out. It seemed immobile; yet there was that about it which suggested life. The face and head were as hideous as any of the horrors round about, and yet—could the thing be human? Long parti-coloured hair—scarlet, yellow, green, all sorts of unnatural colours—descending from the scalp nearly obscured the visage. There seemed to be only one eye and no nose. If there were ears they were hidden. Was it some obscene creature or the mockery of a man? There were no signs of legs. The thing was scarcely more than three feet high. Being clad in a sort of close-fitting tunic, which was ablaze with what seemed diamonds, legs, if there had been any, could scarcely have been hidden. There was certainly nothing in the way of breeches. Arms, on the other hand, there were and to spare. A pair dangled at the sides which were longer than the entire creature. Huge hands were at the ends.
While I gazed at this nightmare creation of some delirious showman’s fancy, wondering if such a creature by any possibility could ever have had actual existence, that most beautiful woman in the world who had brought us there turned to me and said, as simply and as naturally as if she were remarking that she’d take another lump of sugar in her tea:—
“This is the Great Joss—my father.”
And Luke, clearing his throat, with an air half apologetic and half familiar, observed, in a sort of husky groan, which I daresay he meant for a whisper,
“Hallo, Ben, my cockalorum bird, how goes it along with you, old son?”
Nonotice was taken of Luke’s inquiry. Instead, the whole place was filled all at once with a variety of discordant sounds. They seemed to proceed from the monsters which were ranged about the central figure. At the same time their arms began to move, their heads to waggle, their mouths to open and shut, their eyes to roll. Possibly, to the untaught savage, such an exhibition might have appeared impressive. It reminded me too much of the penny-in-the-slot figures whose limbs are set in motion by the insertion of a coin. The slight awe which I had felt for the figures vanished for good and all.
“That’s enough of it,” I observed. “I like them better when they’re still. Would whoever’s pulling the strings mind taking a rest?”
I had a sort of a kind of an idea that by someone or other my remark was not relished so much as it deserved. A suspicion that in some quarter there was a feeling of resentment that what had been intended to confound me should have ended in a fizzle. The noises stopped; the figures ceased to move; it was as if the coin-in-the-slot had given us our pennyworth. Instead, something which, from my point of view, was very much more objectionable began to happen.
From the immediate neighbourhood of the figure on the throne snakes’ heads began to peep. There was no mistake that they were all alive—oh! The evil-looking brutes began to slither over the sides. I never could abide snakes, either in a figurative or a literal sense. The mere sight of one puts my dander up. Whipping up a couple of revolvers out of my coat pockets, I headed the muzzles straight for them.
“Someone had better call those pretty darlings off before I shoot the eyes clean out of their heads!”
To my surprise the warning was immediately answered.
“You’d better not shoot at them, my lad, or you’ll be sorry.”
The words came from the creature on the throne.
“So you are alive, are you? You’d better call them off, or I’ll shoot first, and be sorry after.”
“They’re not touching you, you fool!”
“No, and I’m not going to wait until they are.”
The things were coming unpleasantly close—their approach setting every nerve in my body on edge. In another second or two I would have fired. Luke caught me by the arm.
“Gently, captain, gently. The snakes won’t hurt you; our friend won’t let them. It’s only his way. Captain, let me introduce you to my old friend, Mr. Benjamin Batters. My friend and me haven’t seen each other for years, have we, Ben?”
“Can’t say I ever wanted to see you.”
“Just so, just so; still friends do meet again. Ben, this is Captain Lander.”
“He doesn’t seem to know his proper place.”
“When I glance in your direction, Mr. Batters, I’m inclined to make the same remark of you.”
“Damn the man!”
The creature proved himself to be very much alive by seizing one of the serpents in his huge hands and whirling it above his head as if it had been a club.
Luke played the part of peacemaker.
“Now, gentlemen! Come, Ben, no offence was meant, I’m sure. Tell the captain what you want. He’s in rather a hurry, Captain Lander is.”
“Then let him go to the devil, and take his hurry with him.”
“By all means. I wish you good evening, Mr. Batters.”
I swung round on my heels. The creature screamed after me.
“Stop, you fool, stop! I’m the Joss—the Great Joss; the greatest god this country’s ever known. In my presence all men fall upon their knees and worship me.”
“Let ’em. Tastes differ. I like my gods to be built on other lines.”
I expected to be attacked by a shower of execration. But the creature changed his mood.
“And I’m sick of being a god—sick of it—dead sick! Curse your josses, is what I say—damn ’em!” There followed a flood of adjectives. “I want to get out of the place, to turn my back upon the whole infernal land, to never set eyes on it again. I’m an Englishman, that’s what I am—an Englishman, British born and British bred. I want to get back to my native land. Captain Lander, or whatever your cursed name is, will you take me back to England?”
“When?”
“Now—at once—to-night!”
“I do not carry passengers. I doubt if I have proper accommodation. What will you give me for taking you?”
“I’ll show you what I’ll give you.”
The creature scrambled off his throne by means of his arms and hands, like some huge baboon. As I had suspected, he appeared to have no legs. Reaching the ground he moved at what, under the circumstances, was an extraordinary pace. Wheels had been attached to the stumps of his legs. Using his hands as a monkey does its forearms, he advanced upon these wheels as if they had been castors. As we followed him Luke whispered in my ear:—
“You mustn’t mind what he says; he’s a bit off his chump, poor chap.”
“From what I can see there seems to be a bit off him elsewhere besides the chump.”
“Oh, he’s lived a queer life. Been cut to pieces, stewed in oil, and I don’t know what. He’s a tough ’un. It’s a miracle he’s alive. I thought he was dead years ago. When I first knew him he was a finer man than me.”
Mr. Batters had brought us to an apartment which seemed to be used as a repository for the treasures of the temple. The room was not a large one, but it was as full as it could hold. Curios were on every hand. Trading in Eastern seas I had seen something of things of the kind; I knew that those I saw there had value. There were images, ornaments, vessels of all sorts, and shapes, and sizes, apparently of solid gold. He lifted the lid of a lacquered case.
“You see that? That’s dust—gold dust. There are more than twenty cases full of it, worth at least a thousand pounds apiece. You see those?” He was holding up another box for my inspection. “Those are diamonds, rubies, pearls, sapphires, opals, and turquoises.”
“Real?”
“Real!” he screamed. “They’re priceless! unique! They’re offerings which the faithful have made to me, the Great Joss. They come from men and women who are the greatest and the richest in the land. Do you think they would dare to offer me imitations? If they were guilty of such sacrilege I would destroy them root and branch. And they know it!” The creature snarled like some great cat. “I know something of stones, and I tell you you won’t find finer gems in any jeweller’s shop in London—nor any as fine.” He waved his arms. “You won’t match the things you see here in all Europe—not in kings’ palaces nor in national museums. I know, and I tell you. If all the things you see in this place were put up in a London auction room for sale to-morrow, they’d fetch more than a million pounds—down on the nail! I swear they would! If you’ll take me with you to England to-night—me and my daughter here; this is my daughter, Susan. She’s her father’s only child.” The irony of it! My stars! A shudder went all over me as I thought of her being connected by ties of blood with such an object. “If you’ll give the pair of us ship-room, and all these things—they’re all my property, every pin’s worth, all offerings to the Great Joss—you and your crew shall have half of everything you see. That shall be in payment of our passage.”
Half!
My mouth watered. His appraisement of the value of the things I saw about me went to all intents and purposes unheeded. Divide his figures by twenty. Say their worth was £50,000. Half of that, even after I, and Luke, and Rudd, and the rest of them had had their pickings—and out of a venture of this sort pickings there would have to be—the remnant would still leave a handsome profit for the owners. I knew the kind of men with whom I had to deal. Only give them a sufficient profit, I need not fear being placed in their black books. However it might have come. And then there was half that collection of gems—I would have that too. And half the gold dust. Ye whales and little fishes! this might yet turn out the most profitable voyage I’d ever made.
Yet I easily perceived that there might be breakers ahead.
“You say that all these things are yours?”
“Every one—every speck of gold dust. All! all! I am the only Great Joss; they have been given to me.”
“Then, in that case, there will be no difficulty in removing them.”
The response came brusquely enough, and to the point.
“That’s where you’re a fool. Do you suppose I’d share the plunder if there weren’t? If it was known that I was going to make myself scarce, let alone hooking off with this lot of goods, there’d be hell to pay. I haven’t stayed here all this time because I wanted; I had to. They made of me the thing you see; cut me to pieces; boiled, burned, and baked me; skinned me alive. Then they dipped me in a paint-pot and made of me a god. The next thing they’ll make of me’ll be a corpse; I can’t stand being pulled about with red-hot pincers like I used to. There’s a hundred adjectived priests about this adjectived show. They all want to have a finger in my pie. When I had a word with Luke here, and arranged with him to have a word with you, I sent the whole damned pack off miracle working at a place half-a-dozen miles away from here. We’ll have to be cleared off before they’re back or there’ll be fighting; they can fight! And the man who falls into their hands alive before they’ve done with him will curse his mother for ever having borne him.”
“How do you propose to go—walk?”
“Walk!” He laughed—a laugh which wasn’t nice to hear. “I haven’t walked for twenty years—since they burned my legs off so that I shouldn’t. When the Great Joss goes abroad he travels in his palanquin—there it is. And as he passes the people throw themselves on to the ground and hide their faces in the dust, lest, at the sight of his godlike form, they should fall dead. You’ll have to fetch your chaps, and be quick about it! They’ll have to carry me, and I’ll stuff the palanquin as full as it will hold with the things which are best worth taking. I know ’em!”
I reflected for a moment. Then turned to Luke.
“Do you think you can find your way to Rudd?”
The girl interposed.
“Let me go; I shall be surer—and quicker.”
“You can’t go alone; they won’t take their orders from you.” An idea occurred to me. “I’ll come with you, and we’ll take as many things with us as we can carry. Luke, you stay behind and help Mr. Batters put the things together in convenient parcels. I doubt if there’ll be enough of us to take everything. Pick out the best. As time’s precious, what we can’t take we shall have to leave behind.”
I crammed my pockets with the smaller odds and ends, none the less valuable, perhaps, because they were small. I packed a lot of other things into a sort of sheet which I slung over my shoulder. The girl stowed as much as she could carry into the skirt of her queer fashioned gown. She held it up as children do their pinafores. Out we went into the night.
As we hurried along my breath came faster even than the pace warranted at the thought of being alone in the darkness with her.
We went some way before a word was spoken. Then I asked a question.
“Do you want to go to England?”
“Want!” She gave a sigh, as of longing. “I have wanted ever since I was born.”
“Then you shall go whoever has to stay behind.”
“Stay behind—how do you mean?” She seemed to read in my words a hidden significance. “My father must go. If he stays I stay also.”
“Is he really your father?”
“Of course he is my father. My mother was one of the women of the country. They burned her when I was born.”
“Burned her?”
“As a thank offering for having borne unto the Great Joss a child.”
She spoke in the most matter-of-fact tone. I wondered what sort of place this was I had got into, whether the people hereabouts were men or demons. She went on quietly.
“My father is the Great Joss. It was a great thing to the people that a woman should have borne to him a child.”
“A child who was a goddess.”
I was ashamed of myself directly the words were uttered. It seemed to be taking an unfair advantage to say things to her like that. But she didn’t seem to mind.
“A goddess? That is what men worship.”
“Just so. That is what men worship.”
She laughed to herself softly, so that only I, who was close at her side, could hear. There was that in the sound which set my blood on fire.
“If I am a goddess, whom you worship, then you must be god, and I must worship you. Shall it be?”
I did not answer. Whether she was playing with me I could not tell. I knew all the while that it was just as likely. But there was something in the question, and in the way in which she asked it, which put all my senses in confusion. It was a wonder I didn’t come a dozen times to the ground. My wits were wandering. We exchanged not another syllable. I had lost my tongue.
As we neared Rudd he challenged us.
“Who comes there?”
“It’s all right, Rudd; it’s I.” He was plainly surprised at the sight of my companion. But, being a discreet soul, asked no questions. Perhaps he had already concluded—being quite capable of drawing deductions on his own account—that queer things were in the air. “Stay where you are. I shall be back in a minute and shall want you. I’m going to fetch the men out of the boat. There’s a job of work on hand.”
We ran down the slope. Found the boat where I had left it. Deposited in it the things which we had brought away with us; no one offering a comment. As I unloaded I gave hurried instructions. In certainly not much more that the minute of which I had spoken to Rudd we were starting back to him. One man we left in the boat; five we took with us. Of their quality in a scrimmage I knew nothing; but, as I had suspected, each had brought with him something with which to make his mark in case of ructions. If one might judge from their demeanour the suggestion that there might be friction ahead seemed to give them satisfaction rather than otherwise. Especially when I added a hint that there was plunder to be got by those who cared to get it. They put no inconvenient inquiries. Whose property it might chance to be was their captain’s affair not theirs. For once in a way they recognised the force of the fact that it was theirs only to obey.
All they wanted was a share of the spoil.
Wepassed through the forest in single file; the girl first, I next; the men hard upon each other’s heels. We found Luke apparently alone. I thought that the Joss had returned for some purpose to the temple.
“What’s he gone for?” I asked.
Luke made a movement with his forefinger, suggesting caution. He spoke in a hoarse whisper.
“He’s not gone; he’s there—in the palanquin.” His voice sank lower. “I rather fancy that he don’t want to be looked at more than he can help. Poor chap! he feels that, to look at, he ain’t the man as once he was.”
Luke grinned. Sympathy did not go very deep with him.
The palanquin was drawn out upon the floor. The girl stooped over it.
“Father!” A voice proceeded from within—a surly voice:—
“I’m here all right; don’t let’s have any nonsense. Tell ’em to be careful how they carry me; I don’t want to be jolted to bits by a lot of awkward fools. They’re to hurry for all that; those devils may be back at any minute. We’ve arranged the things as best we can; Luke will tell them what’s to be taken first.”
Luke volunteered to be one of the palanquin bearers, suggesting that Isaac Rudd should be the other. Isaac glanced doubtfully towards me.
“It’s all right, Mr. Rudd. There’s a friend of mine in there, an invalid, who is not able to walk very well over uneven ground. If you will assist Mr. Luke, I’ll be obliged. You’ll find that you’ll be able to carry him very easily between you.”
Isaac expressed his willingness to lend a hand, though I could see that he still had his doubts as to what was in the palanquin. To be frank, I was doubtful too. I wondered what it contained besides Benjamin Batters.
Luke and his friend, considering the short time they had had at their disposal, had put the goods into convenient form for transit. Some had been packed in wooden cases, some in bundles, some in sacks. Each man took as much as he could carry—inquiring of himself, I make no doubt, what it was that he was bearing. I took my share. The girl took hers. Luke and Rudd shouldered the palanquin; the second in front, the first behind—Luke taking up his position in the rear, so that he might the more easily, if necessary, hold communication with its occupant.
The procession started. The girl was its guide, now in advance, now at the palanquin side holding converse with her father. I gathered from what I heard that he was not in the sweetest temper. Luke and Rudd were not practised bearers. The way was difficult. The light trying. Now and then one or the other would stumble. The palanquin was jolted. From its interior issued a curse which, if not loud, was deep and strong.
We reached the open on the crest of the slope without interruption. I was beginning to conclude that, consciously or unconsciously, Batters had exaggerated the danger which would attend his attempt at flight. We had borne him away if not in triumph, at least with impunity; looted the temple of its best belongings; no one had endeavoured to say us nay. It might be almost worth our while to return for what we had left behind. Actual peril there appeared to be none. No one seemed cognisant of what was going on, or seemed to care. If the temple itself had been portable, we might have carried it away entire; the result apparently would have been the same.
Thinking such thoughts I watched Luke and Rudd go swinging down the slope in the moonlight. I almost suspected them of intentional awkwardness; they treated that palanquin to such a continuous shaking. Its occupant must have been gripping the sides with his huge hands, or surely he would have been dislodged and shot on to the ground. With a stream of adjectives he enlivened the proceedings.
“Small blame to him,” said I to myself. “If jolting’s good for the liver, as I’ve heard, he’ll have had a good dose of the medicine before he’s through. If swearing ’ll make it easier, for the Lord’s sake let him swear.”
And he swore. And right in the middle of about as full flavoured a string of observations as I had ever heard there arose a wild cry from the forest behind us. In a second the Joss’ head appeared between the curtains.
“Quick! quick! It’s the devils—the devils!”
It needed no urging from me—or from him either—to induce everyone concerned to quicken his pace. On a sudden the forest where, a moment back, had reigned the silence of the grave, was now alive with shouts and noises. People were shrieking. What sounded like drums were being banged. Guns were being fired. The Great Joss’ absence was discovered. Possibly the absence of a good deal of valuable property had been discovered too. The alarm was being given. The priests—those pious souls who had burned the girl’s mother alive as a reward for having borne the Great Joss a child!—were warning the country far and wide of what had happened. In a few minutes the whole countryside would be upon us.
I don’t fancy the fighting instinct was very hot in any of us just then. There was something ominous about that din. We were few. The proceedings on which we were engaged might appear odd regarded from a certain point of view. Fortunately, we were near the boat.
As luck would have it, when he was within a dozen paces of the water’s edge, Luke, tripping over a bush, or something, dropped on to his knee. The palanquin, torn from Isaac’s shoulders, descended to the ground with a crash. What were Mr. Batters’ feelings I am unable to say. I expected to see him shot through the roof, like a jack-in-the-box. But he wasn’t. So far as I could tell in the haste and confusion he was silent. Which was ominous. The girl sank down beside the fallen palanquin with the evident intention of offering words of comfort to her revered, though maltreated, parent.
Before she had a chance of saying a word Luke had righted himself. Rudd had regained possession of the end which he had lost. Mr. Batters inside might be dead. That was a matter of comparative indifference. No inquiries were made. Somehow the palanquin was being borne towards the boat. Of exactly what took place during the next few minutes I have only vague impressions. I know that the palanquin was got into the boat somehow, with the Great Joss, or what was left of him, still inside. The men, disposing of their burdens anywhere or anyhow, began to get out their oars. I dropped my loot somewhere aft. The boat was got afloat. The girl—who had all at once got as frightened of the sea as a two-year-old child—I lifted in my arms, carried through three feet of water, and put aboard. I followed.
A wild-looking figure came tearing after us down the slope. There were others, but he was in front, and I noticed him particularly. He was a tall, thin old party, dressed in yellow, with a bald head, and a face that looked like a corpse’s in the moonlight. It was yellow, like his dress. As wicked a physiognomy as ever I set eyes upon. He was in a towering rage. When he got down to the shore we were in deep water, perhaps twenty yards away. He seemed so anxious to get at us I expected to see him start swimming after us. Not a bit of it. I rather imagine that the people just thereabouts were not fond of water in any form. He refused to allow the sea to damp so much as the tips of his toes. He screamed at us instead—to my surprise, in English—not bad English either.
“The Joss! The Great Joss! Give us back our Joss!”
“Wouldn’t you like it?” I returned.
I wasn’t over civil, not liking his looks. I wondered if he had had a hand in burning the girl’s mother. He looked that sort of man.
He raised his hands above his head and cursed us. He looked a quaint figure, standing there in the moon’s white rays. And ugly too. Dangerous if he had a chance. His voice was not a loud one, but he had a trick of getting it to travel.
“You dog! you thief! you accursed! you have stolen from us the Great Joss! But do not think that you can keep him. Wherever you may take him, though it be across the black water, to the land beyond the sun, we will follow. He shall be ours again. As for you, the flesh shall fall from off you; the foul waters shall rot your bones; you shall stink! Mocker of the gods!”
There was a good deal more of it. He continued his observations till we were out of hearing. Repeating that he would follow us pretty well everywhere before he would allow that Great Joss to be a bad debt. Though he was a barbarian and loose in his geography, it struck me that he meant what he said. If he could have laid his hands on me, and have had me in a position where I couldn’t have laid mine on him, I should have had a nice little experience before he’d done. That was the kind of mood he was in.
Long before he had said all that he had to say he was joined by quite a crowd. When he had about cursed himself out, he started on a funny little entertainment of another kind. He made a fire close down by the sea. His friends formed about it in a circle. He stood in the centre. As the flames rose and fell he dropped things on them, stuff which smoked and burned in different colours. The sort of rubbish which boys in England buy in ha’porths and penn’orths, and make themselves a nuisance with. Possibly, out there it costs more, so is thought a lot of. As he put his rubbish on his fire, his friends moved round first one way and then the other, behaving themselves generally like fantastic idiots. And he threw himself into attitudes which would have been a photographer’s joy. I had an impression that he was calling down the wrath of the gods upon our heads, and doing it in style.
Our return to the ship created a good deal of excitement. One might lay long odds that every man on board had been watching, for all that he was worth, whatever there was to watch, without being able to make head or tail of what he had seen. So that our arrival just gave the final touch to the general curiosity.
The things, whose departure those gentlemen on shore were weeping for, were got on board. The Great Joss wanted to be hoisted up in his palanquin. When I pointed out that there were obstacles in the way, he came out of it with a rush and shinned up the ship’s side like a monkey. His appearance on deck made things lively. The men took him for the devil, and shrank from him as such. Not wanting any more fuss than might be helped, I led the way down the companion as fast as I could. He came after me. Goodness alone knows how. It seemed to me he was as handy on no legs as some people upon two. His daughter followed.
I had been turning matters over in my mind coming along. There had never been such a thing as a passenger known onThe Flying Scud. At that moment there was a vacant two-berth cabin suited to people who might not be over and above particular. The Great Joss and his friend Luke should have it. The Great Joss’ daughter should have Luke’s quarters.
When Luke appeared he professed himself agreeable. Indeed, too agreeable. There was an eagerness about the way in which he snatched at my suggestion which made me thoughtful even in that first moment. It was against nature that a man should be half beside himself with delight at the prospect of being berthed with such a monster. As I eyed Luke, noting the satisfaction which he was unable to conceal, I wondered what was at the back of it.
However, so things were settled. Mr. Batters and the first mate were placed together. Miss Batters had the first mate’s quarters.
When I got on deck again land was out of sight: I was disposed for solitude and a quiet think. But I wasn’t to have them. I soon became conscious that Isaac Rudd was taking peeps at me. He kept coming up out of the engine room, an oily rag in his hand, and a sort of air about him as if he wondered when I proposed to speak to him. At last I took the hint.
“Well, Mr. Rudd, what is it?”
He came up, wiping his paws with his oily rag. His manner was sententious.
“I thought, sir, that you might have something which you wished to say to me.”
“About what?”
“This little game.”
“What little game?”
“The one we’ve just been playing. You see we’ve all been taking a hand in it, and there’s a kind of feeling aboard this ship that there might be something a little delicate about it, which might bring us into trouble before we’ve done. And no man likes to take a risk—for nothing.”
“I see. That’s it. You know me, and you know that I’m as good as my word. You may tell the men from me that if the venture is brought safely into port, and turns out what I expect, it will be twenty-five pounds in the pockets of every man on board this ship, and a hundred for each officer.”
“And what for the first engineer?” With that confounded oil rag of his he wiped his scrubby chin. “I’m thinking that, under the circumstances, I shouldn’t like to guarantee that the engines ’ll last out for a hundred pounds. They’re just a lot of bits of iron tied together with scraps of string. To keep them going will mean sleepless nights.”
I laughed.
“Are they so bad as that? I’m sorry to hear it, Mr. Rudd. Rudd, you’re a blackguard. You want to rob your captain—and the owners.”
“Damn the owners!”
“That’s against Scripture. An owner’s always blessed.”
“He’ll never be upon the other side if he sends a ship to sea with such engines as we have.”
“They are a trial, aren’t they, Rudd?”
“They’re that.”
“So I think we may say that, under the circumstances, if the engines do last out, it will mean five hundred pounds in the pocket of the chief engineer.”
“Five hundred pounds? I’m not denying it’s an agreeable sum. I’d like to handle it. And it’ll be no fault of mine if the machine blows up before it’s just convenient. There’s just one other question I’d like to put to you. Is it the devil that we’ve took aboard?”
“It’s not. But it’s something that’s seen the devil face to face, and tasted of hell fire.”
Turning on my heel I left Isaac to make of my words what he could. A variety of matters demanded my immediate consideration. I had pledged my word that every man on board that ship should, in case of a certain eventuality, receive a definite sum of money. The promise was perhaps a rash one. But there was reason behind it. It would have to be kept. Then there were the owners to be considered—and myself.
Where were the funds to come from with which to do these things? What would they amount to, leaving fancy figures out. I should have to have a clear understanding with the Great Joss. The sooner the better, while I still, as it were, had a pull on him. Isaac Rudd had lost no time. Neither would I.
I went down the companion ladder to have that understanding.
Thecabin door was fastened. I rapped. Luke inquired from within—
“Who’s there?”
“I! Open the door.” So far as I could judge no attempt was made to do as I requested. There were whispers instead. The voices were audible though the words were not. I rapped again. “Do you hear? open this door!”
Luke replied.
“Beggin’ your pardon, captain, but Mr. Batters isn’t feeling very well. He hopes that you’ll excuse him.”
A louder rapping.
“Open this door.”
There were sounds which suggested that something was being done in a hurry; an exchange of what were apparently expostulatory murmurs. Then the Great Joss spoke.
“This is my cabin, Captain Lander——”
I cut him short.
“Your cabin!” I brought my fist against the door with a bang. “If you don’t open at once, I’ll have the ship put about, take you back from where you came, and dump you on shore. I’m in command here, and all the cabins in this ship are mine. Now, which is it to be—open?—or back?”
Luke began to mutter excuses.
“If you’ll just wait five minutes, captain——”
I felt convinced that they were doing something they didn’t wish me to see, and which was highly desirable that I should see. I didn’t wait for Luke to finish. I just planted my shoulder against the door, and heaved. It leaped open. I had counted on the fastenings being rickety. There was Luke and the Great Joss with their hands full of papers and things which they had evidently just been attempting to conceal. The girl stood looking on. I took off my cap to her.
“Miss Batters, I wish to speak to your father in private. Might I ask you to leave us.” She went without a word. I turned to Luke. “Mr. Luke, go up on deck, and wait there till I come.”
There was an ugly look on his face.
“If you don’t mind, captain, I should just like——”
“Do as I tell you, sir or you cease to be an officer on board this ship.” He saw that I meant business; moved towards the door. “You needn’t trouble to take those things with you.”
“Put them down, you fool,” growled Mr. Batters.
Luke put them down, and departed, not looking exactly pretty. When he had gone, pushing the door to I stood with my back against it. The Great Joss and I exchanged glances. He spoke first.
“You’ve a queer way of doing things.”
“I have. Of which fact your presence here is an illustration.”
“I’ve not shipped as one of your crew. I’m a passenger.”
“At present. Whether you continue to be so depends on one or two things. One is that you behave. You come from a place where there are some queer customs.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“What I say.” He winced in a fashion I did not understand, causing me to surmise that the customs in question might be even queerer than I supposed. “The first time, Mr. Batters, you show disrespect for any orders I may give, or wishes I may express, the ship goes round—you go back. I fancy your friends will be glad to receive you back among them.”
He glared at me with his one eye in a manner I did not altogether relish. There was an uncanniness about his looks, his ways, his every movement. As he confronted me, squatted on the floor, he was the most repulsive-looking object I had ever seen. It was hard to believe that such a creature could be human. And English! The sight of him filled me with a sense of nausea. I hastened to go on.
“There is another point on which your continuance as a passenger depends. What do you propose to pay for your passage?”
“I’ve told you—halves.”
“That is too indefinite. I want something more definite. Moreover, it is the rule for passage money to be paid in advance.”
“If you prefer that way of doing business you shall have a hundred pounds apiece for us, and I’ll give you the money now.”
“Is that all? Then the ship goes round.”
“You shall have more if you’ll only wait.”
“How long?”
“Till I’ve had time to look about me. You can’t expect me to have everything cut and dried before I’ve been on board ten minutes. You see these things?” I did. They were everywhere. I wondered where Luke and he proposed to sleep. “They’re worth a million pounds.”
“Nonsense!”
“It’s not nonsense, you——fool.”
The opprobrious epithet was seasoned with a profusion of adjectives.
“Mr. Batters, that is not the way in which to address the commander of a ship. As I see that you and I are not likely to understand each other I will give instructions to put the ship about at once, and take you back. It’s plain I made a mistake in having anything to do with you.”
I made as if to go.
“Stop, you idiot!”
“Mr. Batters? What did you observe?”
“I apologise! I apologise! What you say is right. I have been used to rummy ways. I can’t slough ’em at sight. Even a snake takes time to change its skin. But when you talk about the value I set on the things I’ve got here being nonsense, it’s you who’re mistaken, not me. Look at that!”
He held up a hideous-looking image. I took it from him, to find it heavier than I had expected.
“That’s gold—solid. Weighs every bit of twenty pounds, sixteen ounces to the pound. It’s got diamonds for eyes, twenty-five or thirty carats apiece; pearls for teeth, and its forehead is studded with opals. The stones in the rings, bracelets, and bangles are all real. I tell you what you’re holding in your hands is not worth far short of fifty thousand pounds.”
“It may be so. I’m no judge of such things. But what proof have I of the correctness of your statements?”
“That’s it; what proof have you? You’ve only my word. You may cut my heart out if I’m wrong. And what I say is this. When we get to London we’ll have them all sold, or else valued—whichever you please. You shall either have half the things—toss for first choice, then choose turn and turn about; or half of whatever they fetch.”
“You’ll give me a written undertaking to that effect?”
“I will.”
“And I can take an inventory of everything you have?”
“If you like.”
“And remove them to my cabin for safer custody?”
“If you think that they will be safer there. You can stow ’em in the hold for all I mind. All I want is for them to be safe, and have my fair half. Only I don’t see what harm they’ll do in here, except that you’ve bursted off the lock, which is a thing as can be replaced. I’m not likely to leave the ship, and I’ll watch it that they don’t go without me.”
There seemed reason in what he said. It sounded fair; above-board enough. Though every pulse shrunk from his near neighbourhood, crying out that there was that about him which was good neither for man nor beast, I could not but admit to myself that this was so.
I was still holding in my hand the obscene image which, according to him, was worth fifty thousand pounds. I had been watching Mr. Batters. Glancing from him to it I saw that, perched upon its head, was a little doll-like looking figure, as long, perhaps, as my middle finger. It was not there a second before. I wondered whence it came, how it retained its place.