by Guy Boothby
CHAPTER III.
THE ISLAND.
As I splashed my way ashore, I could not help a feeling of wonderment asto whether the whole circumstances preceding and attending our arrivalat the island were not part of some horrible dream, from which I shouldpresently awaken. In fact, my whole existence, from the day I left the_Beretania_ at Port Adelaide up to the moment of my setting foot uponthese sands, appeared almost too strange to be possible. With thedwelling of my mind upon the subject, all the events which hadaccompanied my chequered career rose before me like sheeted phantoms ofa dead past. They embraced even my monotonous employment in theship-chandler's office, my experience on the gold-fields, and mystarvation and illness at Broken Hill; took in my life as a fireman, asa station store-keeper, as cook on a cattle camp, as a loafer inBrisbane, and a pearler in Torres Straits; included my love for Juanita,my introduction to the Albino, our voyage to the island, the hoax, mybetrayal in Batavia, and my meeting with and participation in the escapeof Veneda; his accident, and finally our arrival at the place where Inow stood.
I must risk the charge of being called a Fatalist when I affirm that Ihonestly believe that everything in our lives, down to the most triflingcircumstance, is mapped out for us beforehand by an all-wise Providenceto bring about a certain pre-arranged result. If this is not so, why didI give up the sea?--why was I allowed to meet Juanita and theAlbino?--and why was I brought to Batavia? Could it have been onlychance that led me to rescue Veneda, and by so doing to work out my ownultimate--but there you must let me cry a halt; to go into it anyfurther would be to anticipate the strange things I have yet to tellyou.
Having reached the shore, I looked about me for the best point at whichto strike into the undergrowth, for, as I have said, the island wasdensely covered from end to end with vegetation. A spot decided on, Ithrew a glance towards the boat, and plunged into the thicket.
From the beach the land rose abruptly till it reached a sandy plateau,something less than a hundred yards long. Round this on every side treesand shrubs throve luxuriantly, not only protecting it from the violenceof the sea-breeze, but lending to it a picturesqueness that was like aglimpse of fairyland. What was more to my taste, however, I discoveredat the further end a stream of purest water, bubbling its tiny torrentthrough the thicket down to the sea below, and here I determined topitch our camp, if only I could manage to convey Veneda up to it.
Above the plateau rose another slight elevation, from the summit ofwhich a splendid view of the sea might be obtained. Before returning tothe boat I climbed to it, and searched the offing for a sail, but not asign of such a thing was to be seen. The sun by this time was nearlydown, so bestowing a hasty glance upon the other side of the island, Ihastened back to the shore to fetch Veneda. Though I did not anticipateany danger, it was with a feeling of relief that I espied the boat lyingjust as I had left her, the Malay still seated forward, and my poorfriend propped up in the shelter astern.
Very well satisfied with the success of my visit of inspection, Isplashed out to his side and informed him of the result. But when Ioffered to carry him up to the plateau, he was quick to point out thedifficulties of the climb, and to suggest a far safer and morecomfortable means of transit.
Once more I waded ashore, this time to return with two stout saplings,to which I fastened a strong piece of sail-cloth, thus making a rude butcomfortable litter.
At Veneda's command the Malay jumped overboard, and placed himselfbetween the poles at the further end, leaving the after part resting onthe gunwale of the boat. Raising the sick man carefully in my arms, Iplaced him on it, and then taking the other end myself, we werepresently bearing him triumphantly ashore.
After pausing for a moment on the beach to recover our breath, westarted on again through the thicket and across the stream, up to thespot I had marked out for our camping-place. There, under the shadow ofa large rock, we set him down, and I returned with the Malay to securesome necessaries from the boat.
Ere this work was accomplished the sun had disappeared, and it was timefor our evening meal. Our fare was necessarily simple, consisting ofboiled rice and a small portion of dried fish; but while I partook of itgreedily, Veneda could not be induced to touch a particle.
In truth, I was beginning to be more and more alarmed about him, forinstead of improving, his condition was growing perceptibly worse. Hisface, always thin, was now pinched and contracted almost out ofrecognition; only his great eyes burned like live coals in his head. Hisfortitude was marvellous. In place of the hasty, ill-tempered manJuanita had always described him to be, I found him patient,long-suffering, and even hopeful to an extraordinary degree. It was apiteous sight to see one hitherto so strong lying like a log, unableeven to turn himself without assistance.
As soon as our meal was eaten I set to work to construct a rough sort ofshelter for him with saplings and branches of trees, pressing the Malayinto my service. When it was completed it was not much to look at, butit answered my purpose very well. The Malay then left us to return tohis boat, a proceeding for which I was not sorry, having no desire forhis company on that lonely spot all night.
You will notice that I had quite constituted myself Veneda's protector.And what a strange and wonderful thing it is, that responsibility ofprotection! Take for instance the man who is playing a lone hand in theGame of Life. When he has only his own safety to consider he is carelessof danger to an extraordinary degree; on the other hand, give him butthe slightest control over, or the right to protect any one weaker thanhimself, and he begins at once to discover all sorts of dangers in thevery things which hitherto he has most vehemently despised. It is thesame feeling which makes the strong man tremble when, in the first flushof his golden love-dream, he catches the ominous word _infection_, andremembers that even his great love is insufficient to protect his dearone from the insidious inroads of disease.
After the sun had been down about an hour the moon rose like a ball ofgold above the farthest point of the island, revealing the waste of sea,the coral sands, the tree-tops just rocking in the evening breeze, andthe dim stretch of land on either side of us. The soft ripple of thewavelets on the shore sounded like faintest music in the intensestillness, and the crooning of some belated sea-bird came like a cryacross the waters. Our fire burnt merrily, and when we had sat for sometime gazing into it, occupied with our own thoughts, which I can promiseyou were none of the happiest, Veneda said he should like to tell me hishistory.
Thinking it might distract his thoughts from his unhappy position, Iprofessed myself delighted to listen, and giving the fire a finalarmful of fuel, stretched myself beside him.
It was then that I learnt the queer story which my Cousin Luke has toldyou in the first part of this book, only saving the fact that Venedamade no mention of the amount of his treasure, in what manner he hadobtained it, where it was hidden away, or how another person mightprocure it. Even in the hour of his extremity his habitual caution didnot desert him; and though he must have known himself to be littlebetter than a dead man, he was not going to share his secret with anyone else until convinced that it was impossible for him to enjoy thefruits of it himself.
Another strange point about this remarkable man was the affection hedisplayed for small matters connected with his boyhood. He would lingerwith the fondest remembrances on the most insignificant trifles. Forinstance, on a certain tiny trout stream in which he had been in thehabit of fishing; on the different names scratched upon the pews in hisschool chapel; on the various natures of his boyish pets, andparticularly on the vagaries of a certain one-eyed fox terrier, for whomhe seemed to have cherished a singular regard. I have often noticed thispeculiarity in men of his stamp, but never before in such a markeddegree.
While his mind was recalling these ancient recollections his face worean expression of unaccustomed gentleness but a moment or two later, whenthe name of the Albino happened to occur, the look that accompanied theutterance of it was almost diabolical in its malignity. Wrecked thoughhe was, it would have b
een an ill moment for the dwarf had he venturedwithin the reach of those muscular brown hands.
One subject I was surprised to hear him touch upon, and that was hisdismissal from the service of a London bank on a suspicion of forgery.This charge he contended, with considerable earnestness, was altogetherfalse. He was innocent; some one else had committed the crime, and hadsaddled it upon him, convinced that his reckless conduct, badreputation, and proverbial want of money would supply sufficient motivesfor the deed.
"Ramsay," he asserted vigorously, "it was just that false accusationwhich sent me to the devil. I was on the brink before, but that fairlytoppled me over. And, as God is my witness, whatever sins I havecommitted since that time must be laid to the charge of that real thief,whoever he may have been."
"How did you manage to get out of it?" I asked.
"Simply because my uncle, Sir Benjamin Plowden--a pious, New Jerusalempatriarch of East India Avenue--not caring to have the family namefiguring in the police reports, took the matter in hand, and used hisinfluence to square it."
"Sir Benjamin Plowden!" I gasped. "You don't mean to tell me SirBenjamin is your uncle?"
"He was my father's brother. My real name is Plowden. But, goodgracious, man, you don't surely know him?"
"Know him! Why, I should rather think I do! Wasn't I in his office foryears? And wasn't I engaged to his daughter Maud until I was blackguardenough to think her false to me?"
Veneda was silent. After a while he said, as I thought, rather sadly--
"What a rat-trap of a world it is, after all! Ramsay, this is too muchof a coincidence; there's fatality in it. Fate must have willed that weshould meet!... And so you were engaged to little Maud! By Jove! howwell I remember her--a tiny slip of a thing in a white frock, tied upwith blue ribbons. She came into her father's study one day when I waswaiting for him, pretended she came for a book, but I believe myself itwas just to steal a look at wicked Cousin Marmaduke, whom the women-folkhad piously permitted to figure in her mind as a sort of cross betweenGiant Blunderbore and the devil. Perhaps Cousin Satan was not quite sougly as she had expected him to be, for when Sir Benjamin entered later,he found us seated side by side on the hearthrug, making paper boats. Ican see his face now! And so--she's a grown woman!--and I--well, I'mjust a derelict on the ocean of life, useless to myself, and harmful tomy fellow-men. But there, I can't complain; I've made my bed, and Isuppose I must lie on it. Ramsay, shall I tell you what I was going todo if I had reached home?"
"What?"
"I should have been a rich man, remember. And I had figured it that Iwould purchase an estate in a county where nobody would know my past,marry some nice quiet English girl, and settle down to bring up mychildren, if I had any, to be as honest as their father was crooked, todo good to my neighbours, and when I went down to my grave, to havelived so that somebody should be able to say, 'There's an Englishgentleman gone to his rest!' An English gentleman, mark you, and there'sno prouder title under the sun than that. As it is, I shall peg outhere, cut off from all who knew me, and--as somebody has it--going intomy grave 'unwept, unhonoured, and unsung!' A grand end, isn't it?"
Not knowing how to comfort him, I held my tongue. He continued--
"Somehow I've been an outcast all my life, and I shall certainly dieone. After my first slip I was never given a chance, but was badgeredfrom pillar to post, until I was driven out of England, the victim ofwhat we may call uncivilized Christianity. It was rough on me, deucedrough."
After this our conversation dropped off bit by bit, till it ceasedaltogether. I made him as comfortable as I could, and then sought my owncouch on the other side of the fire. Hours passed before sleep came tome, my brain was full of the thoughts his words had conjured up.Strangely enough, it was not of Juanita I had thought within the lastfew days. She seemed almost to have passed out of my life. It was onanother and a purer love I pondered. "Oh, Maud, Maud, my own lost love,"I moaned, "if only I could live those fatal days again!" But it wasimpossible. Like Dryden, I must cry henceforth--
"Not heaven itself upon the past has power; But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour."
Next morning I discovered that Veneda had not slept at all. It neededbut little medical knowledge to tell that his condition was worse thanon the previous night. His face was fast losing even the faint colour ithad hitherto possessed. His forehead was covered with a clammy sweat,and at times he moaned softly and wandered in his talk. I was moredistressed about him than I can say. But what could I do? To carry himelsewhere in search of help would have been useless, had it even beenpossible; besides, it would only have hastened his death to have movedhim. In addition to this, I found the Malay had taken advantage of theopportunity to clear out, and his boat was already a dim speck upon thehorizon. There was nothing for it but to make Veneda as comfortable as Icould, and to patiently await the end.
In his moments of consciousness I think he must have been aware that hehad not much longer to live; indeed, he hinted as much to me when Iasked if I could do anything to relieve his pain. His patience wasmarvellous. He uttered no sign of complaint, but met his fate with afortitude that was inexpressibly touching.
Towards the middle of the morning I struggled up the hill to scour theoffing for a sail. But no sign of a ship was to be seen, only the blueexpanse of water, other islands peeping up to right and left of us, andthe dim outline of the Sumatra coast away to the westward. Round my headwhite sea-gulls wheeled with discordant cries, while from the fartherside of the island the boom of surf sounded like mimic thunder. Whatwould I not have given for a sail, or anything that could have broughtrelief to my dying companion! But it was no use wishing, so as soon as Ihad satisfied myself that no assistance was forthcoming, I descended tothe plateau and anxiously approached Veneda.
I found him in an excited condition, his face flushed and his eyesbrighter than when I had left him half an hour before. He was talking inthe wildest fashion, and at the same time endeavoring to raise himselffrom the ground.
Hastening to his side, I tried by every means in my power to soothe him,but it was useless. He imagined himself back in Chili, and for some timehis utterances were in the Spanish tongue. For nearly two hours heremained in this state, eventually falling into a heavy sleep whichlasted until about three o'clock. When he awoke his delirium had lefthim, but he was much weaker; his voice, when he tried to speak, washardly louder than a whisper. I could see that the end was only a matterof a short time now.
"Ramsay," he managed to say, "I know all about it; I'm down and donefor. It seems like a joke, old man, but Marcos Veneda's played out."
As he mentioned his assumed name a faint but bitter smile flickeredacross his face. I knelt by his side, and, thinking it might afford himrelief, raised his head, but he bade me let it lie.
"I shan't be able to talk much longer," he said, and his voice was evenweaker than before. "Feel round my neck; you'll find a locket there--thefamous locket--take it off."
I did so, placing it in his hand.
"You've been very good to me, Ramsay, one of the only men in the worldwho ever was, and in return I want to do something for you. Take thislocket, it's all I have to leave you, but, as the others knew, it's thekey to my fortune. It will make you a rich man."
He paused to regain his strength.
"As soon as you get away from here work your way home to London. Andwhen you have been there a month--_swear you will not do so before_, Ihave the best of reasons for asking it--open it."
I swore that I would respect his wishes, and he continued--
"You will find in the locket a small slip of paper on which is written aname and address. Go to the address, show the paper just as you have itthere, and demand from the man Two Hundred Thousand Pounds. When he seesthat slip of paper in your possession he will pay it without demur. Andmay you be as happy with the money as I intended to be. Above all thingssteer clear of John Macklin, for if he dreams that you have the lockethe'll stick at nothing to get it from you."
"But is there nothing I can do for you?" I asked, thinking he mightlike to send some message to the old land he appeared to love so well.
He only shook his head sadly, intimating that there was no one there whowould be either glad or sorry for his death.
After this for a long while he remained silent, till I began to thinkthat perhaps the end had come. At last, without opening his eyes, hesaid slowly--
"Little Maud--she was the only one of that set who ever trusted me.Somehow I'd like her to have a share of that money. Ramsay, I know youlove her still; you must marry her after all."
"It's too late," I groaned; "too late."
"No, no, I have a conviction that you will win her yet. Try. Swear youwill!"
I swore!
For a minute or two only the sighing of the wind through the trees andthe crackling of the fire was to be heard. Then that weary voice beganagain--
"Ramsay, it's a strange request for a man like me to make, but d'youknow, if you could manage to scramble out some sort of a prayer Ibelieve I should die easier."
Like a flash my memory flew back across the waste of years, and oncemore I was a tiny chap worshipping at my mother's knee. With a great aweupon me I knelt and commenced the Lord's Prayer. When I had finished heslowly repeated the last few words, "For ever and ever, Amen."
Then a wonderful thing happened. He raised his head, and, as he did so,his eyes, which had hitherto been shut, opened wide, and his voice camefrom him quite clear and strong. It was a grander and a nobler voicethan I had ever expected to hear. He said--
"My Lord, I urge nothing in my own defence; I simply throw myself uponthe mercy of the Court."
Then with a little sigh his head fell back again. Marcos Veneda wasdead!