by Bret Harte
CHAPTER III.
"VIGILANCIA."
Without exchanging another word with his escort, Senor Perkins followedhim to the main hatch, where they descended and groped their way throughthe half obscurity of the lower deck. Here they passed one or twoshadows, that, recognizing the Senor, seemed to draw aside in a halfawed, half suppressed shyness, as of caged animals in the presence oftheir trainer. At the fore-hatch they again descended, passing a figurethat appeared to be keeping watch at the foot of the ladder, and almostinstantly came upon a group lit up by the glare of a bull's-eye lantern.It was composed of the first and second mate, a vicious-looking Peruviansailor with a bandaged head, and, to the Senor's astonishment, themissing passenger Hurlstone, seated on the deck, heavily ironed.
"Tell him what you know, Pedro," said the first mate to the Peruviansailor curtly.
"It was just daybreak, Patrono, before we put about," began the manin Spanish, "that I thought I saw some one gliding along towards thefore-hatch; but I lost sight of him. After we had tumbled up to go onthe other tack, I heard a noise in the fore-hold. I went down and foundHIM," pointing to Hurlstone, "hiding there. He had some provisionsstowed away beside him, and that package. I grabbed him, Patrono.He broke away and struck me here"--he pointed to his still wetbandage--"and would have got out overboard through the port, but thesecond mate heard the row and came down just in time to stop him."
"When was this?" asked Senor Perkins.
"Guardia di Diana."
"You were chattering, you fellows."
"Quien sabe?" said the Peruvian, lifting his shoulders.
"How does he explain himself?"
"He refuses to speak."
"Take off his irons," said Senor Perkins, in English.
"But"--expostulated the first mate, with a warning gesture.
"I said--take off his irons," repeated Senor Perkins in a dry andunfamiliar voice.
The two mates released the shackles. The prisoner raised his eyes toSenor Perkins. He was a slightly built man of about thirty, fair-hairedand hollow-cheeked. His short upper lip was lifted over his teeth, asif from hurried or labored breathing; but his features were regular anddetermined, and his large blue eyes shone with a strange abstraction ofcourage and fatuity.
"That will do," continued the Senor, in the same tone. "Now leave himwith me."
The two mates looked at each other, and hesitated; but at a glancefrom Perkins, turned, and ascended the ladder again. The Peruvian aloneremained.
"Go!" said the Senor sharply.
The man cast a vindictive look at the prisoner and retreated sullenly.
"Did HE tell you," said the prisoner, looking after the sailor grimly,"that I tried to bribe him to let me go, but that I couldn't reachhis figure? He wanted too much. He thought I had some stolen money orvaluables here," he added, with a bitter laugh, pointing to the packagethat lay beside him.
"And you hadn't?" said Perkins shortly.
"No."
"I believe you. And now, my young friend," said Perkins, with a singularreturn of his beaming gentleness, "since those two efficient andcompetent officers and this energetic but discourteous seaman are gone,would you mind telling me WHAT you were hiding for?"
The prisoner raised his eyes on his questioner. For the last three weekshe had lived in the small community of which the Senor was a prominentmember, but he scarcely recognized him now.
"What if I refuse?" he said.
The Senor shrugged his shoulders.
"Those two excellent men would feel it their duty to bring the Peruvianto the captain, and I should be called to interpret to him."
"And I should throw myself overboard the first chance I got. I wouldhave done so ten minutes ago, but the mate stopped me."
His eye glistened with the same fatuous determination he had shown atfirst. There was no doubt he would do as he said.
"I believe you would," said the Senor benevolently; "but I see nopresent necessity for that, nor for any trouble whatever, if you willkindly tell me WHAT I am to say."
The young man's eyes fell.
"I DID try to conceal myself in the hold," he said bluntly. "I intendedto remain there hidden while the ship was at Mazatlan. I did not knowuntil now that the vessel had changed her course."
"And how did you believe your absence would be accounted for?" asked theSenor blandly.
"I thought it would be supposed that I had fallen overboard before weentered Mazatlan."
"So that anybody seeking you there would not find you, and you would bebelieved to be dead?"
"Yes." He raised his eyes quickly to Senor Perkins again. "I am neithera thief nor a murderer," he said almost savagely, "but I do not chooseto be recognized by any one who knows me on this side of the grave."
Senor Perkins' eyes sought his, and for an instant seemed to burnthrough the singular, fatuous mist that veiled them.
"My friend," he said cheerfully, after a moment's pause, "you have justhad a providential escape. I repeat it--a most providential escape.Indeed, if I were inclined to prophesy, I would say you were a manreserved for some special good fortune."
The prisoner stared at him with angry amazement.
"You are a confirmed somnambulist. Excuse me," continued the Senor, witha soft, deprecating gesture; "you are, of course, unaware of it--mostvictims of that singular complaint are, or at least fail to recognizethe extent of their aberration. In your case it has only been indicatedby a profound melancholy and natural shunning of society. In a paroxysmof your disorder, you rise in the night, fully dress yourself, and glideas unconsciously along the deck in pursuance of some vague fancy. Youpass the honest but energetic sailor who has just left us, who thinksyou are a phantom, and fails to give the alarm; you are precipitatedby a lurch of the ship through an open hatchway: the shock renders youinsensible until you are discovered and restored."
"And who will believe this pretty story?" said the young man scornfully.
"The honest sailor who picked you up, who has related it in his ownpicturesque tongue to ME, who will in turn interpret it to the captainand the other passengers," replied Senor Perkins blandly.
"And what of the two mates who were here?" said the prisonerhesitatingly.
"They are two competent officers, who are quite content to carry outthe orders of their superiors, and who understand their duty too well tointerfere with the reports of their subordinates, on which these ordersare based. Mr. Brooks, the first officer, though fairly intelligentand a good reader of history, is only imperfectly acquainted with thelanguages, and Mr. M'Carthy's knowledge of Spanish is confined to a fewobjurgations which generally preclude extended conversation."
"And who are you," said Hurlstone, more calmly, "who are willing to dothis for a stranger?"
"A friend--equally of yours, the captain's, and the other passengers',"replied Senor Perkins pleasantly. "A man who believes you, my dear sir,and, even if he did not, sees no reason to interrupt the harmony thathas obtained in our little community during our delightful passage.Were any scandal to occur, were you to carry out your idea of throwingyourself overboard, it would, to say nothing of my personal regret,produce a discord for which there is no necessity, and from which nopersonal good can be derived. Here at least your secret is secure, foreven I do not ask what it is; we meet here on an equality, based onour own conduct and courtesy to each other, limited by no antecedentprejudice, and restrained by no thought of the future. In a little whilewe shall be separated--why should it not be as friends? Why should wenot look back upon our little world of this ship as a happy one?"
Hurlstone gazed at the speaker with a troubled air. It was once morethe quaint benevolent figure whom he had vaguely noted among the otherpassengers, and as vaguely despised. He hesitated a moment, and then,half timidly, half reservedly, extended his hand.
"I thank you," he said, "at least for not asking my secret. Perhaps, ifit was only"--
"Your own--you might tell it," interrupted the Senor, gayly. "Iunderstand. I see you rec
ognize my principle. There is no necessity ofyour putting yourself to that pain, or another to that risk. And now, myyoung friend, time presses. I must say a word to our friends above,who are waiting, and I shall see that you are taken privately to yourstate-room while most of the other passengers are still on deck. If youwould permit yourself the weakness of allowing the steward to carry orassist you it would be better. Let me advise you that the excitement ofthe last three hours has not left you in your full strength. You mustreally give ME the pleasure of spreading the glad tidings of your safetyamong the passengers, who have been so terribly alarmed."
"They will undoubtedly be relieved," said Hurlstone, with ironicalbitterness.
"You wrong them," returned the Senor, with gentle reproach; "especiallythe ladies."
The voice of the first mate from above here checked his further speech,and, perhaps, prevented him, as he quickly reascended the upper deck,from noticing the slight embarrassment of his prisoner.
The Senor's explanations to the mate were evidently explicit and brief.In a few moments he reappeared with the steward and his assistant.
"Lean on these men," he said to Hurlstone significantly, "and do notoverestimate your strength. Thank Heaven, no bones are broken, and youare only bruised by the fall. With a little rest, I think we can getalong without laying the captain's medicine-chest under contribution.Our kind friend Mr. Brooks has had the lower deck cleared, so that youmay gain your state-room without alarming the passengers or fatiguingyourself."
He pressed Hurlstone's hand as the latter resigned himself to thesteward, and was half led, half supported, through the gloom of thelower deck. Senor Perkins remained for an instant gazing after himwith even more than his usual benevolence. Suddenly his arm was touchedalmost rudely. He turned, and encountered the lowering eyes of thePeruvian sailor.
"And what is to be done for me?" said the man roughly, in Spanish.
"You?"
"Yes. Who's to pay for this?" he pointed to his bandaged head.
Without changing his bland expression, Senor Perkins apparently allowedhis soft black eyes to rest, as if fondly, on the angry pupils of thePeruvian. The eyes of the latter presently sought the ground.
"My dear Yoto," said Senor Perkins softly, "I scarcely think thatthis question of personal damage can be referred to the State. I will,however, look into it. Meantime, let me advise you to control yourenthusiasm. Too much zeal in a subordinate is even more fatal thanlaxity. For the rest, son, be vigilant--and peaceful. Thou hast meantwell, much shall be--forgiven thee. For the present, vamos!"
He turned on his heel, and ascended to the upper deck. Here he found thepassengers thrilling with a vague excitement. A few brief orders, afew briefer explanations, dropped by the officers, had already whettedcuriosity to the keenest point. The Senor was instantly beset withinterrogations. Gentle, compassionate, with well-rounded periods, herelated the singular accident that had befallen Mr. Hurlstone, and hisprovidential escape from almost certain death. "At the most, he has nowonly the exhaustion of the shock, from which a day of perfect rest willrecover him; but," he added deprecatingly, "at present he ought not tobe disturbed or excited."
The story was received by those fellow-passengers who had been strongestin their suspicions of Hurlstone's suicide or flight, with a keen senseof discomfiture, only mitigated by a humorous perception of the causeof the accident. It was agreed that a man whose ludicrous infirmity hadbeen the cause of putting the ship out of her course, and the passengersout of their comfortable security, could not be wronged by attributingto him manlier and more criminal motives. A somnambulist on shipboardwas clearly a humorous object, who might, however, become a bore. "Itall accounts for his being so deuced quiet and reserved in the daytime,"said Crosby facetiously; "he couldn't keep it up the whole twenty-fourhours. If he'd only given us a little more of his company when he wasawake, he wouldn't have gallivanted round at night, and we'd have beenthirty miles nearer port." Equal amusement was created by the humoroussuggestion that the unfortunate man had never been entirely awake duringthe voyage, and that he would now, probably for the first time, reallymake the acquaintance of his fellow-voyagers. Listening to thisbadinage with bland tolerance, Senor Perkins no doubt felt that, for themaintenance of that perfect amity he so ardently apostrophized, it wasjust as well that Hurlstone was in his state-room, and out of hearing.
He would have been more satisfied, however, had he been permitted tohear the feminine comments on this incident. In the eyes of the ladypassengers Mr. Hurlstone was more a hero than ever; his mysteriousmalady invested him with a vague and spiritual interest; his escape fromthe awful fate reserved to him, in their excited fancy, gave him theeclat of having ACTUALLY survived it; while the supposed real incidentof his fall through the hatchway lent him the additional lustre of awounded and crippled man. That prostrate condition of active humanity,which so irresistibly appeals to the feminine imagination as segregatingtheir victim from the distractions of his own sex, and, as it were,delivering him helpless into their hands, was at once their opportunity,and his. All the ladies volunteered to nurse him; it was with difficultythat Mrs. Brimmer and Mrs. Markham, reinforced with bandages, flannels,and liniments, and supported by different theories, could be kept fromthe door of his state-room. Jellies, potted meats, and delicacies fromtheir private stores appeared on trays at his bedside, to be courteouslydeclined by the Senor Perkins, in his new functions of a benevolent typeof Sancho Panza physician. To say that this pleased the gentle optimismof the Senor is unnecessary. Even while his companion writhed under thesting of this enforced compassion, the good man beamed philosophicallyupon him.
"Take care, or I shall end this cursed farce in my own way," saidHurlstone ominously, his eyes again filming with a vague desperation.
"My dear boy," returned the Senor gently, "reflect upon the situation.Your suffering, real or implied, produces in the hearts of these gentlecreatures a sympathy which not only exalts and sustains their highernatures, but, I conscientiously believe, gratifies and pleases theirlower ones. Why should you deny them this opportunity of indulgingtheir twofold organisms, and beguiling the tedium of the voyage, merelybecause of some erroneous exhibition of fact?"
Later, Senor Perkins might have added to this exposition the singularlystimulating effect which Hurlstone's supposed peculiarity had uponthe feminine imagination. But there were some secrets which were notimparted even to him, and it was only to each other that the ladiesconfided certain details and reminiscences. For it now appeared thatthey had all heard strange noises and stealthy steps at night; and Mrs.Brimmer was quite sure that on one occasion the handle of her state-roomdoor was softly turned. Mrs. Markham also remembered distinctly thatonly a week before, being unable to sleep, she had ventured out into thesaloon in a dressing-gown to get her diary, which she had left with aportfolio on a chair; that she had a sudden consciousness of anotherpresence in the saloon, although she could distinguish nothing by thedim light of the swinging lantern; and that, after quickly returning toher room, she was quite positive she heard a door close. But the mostsurprising reminiscence developed by the late incident was from Mrs.Brimmer's nurse, Susan. As it, apparently, demonstrated the fact thatMr. Hurlstone not only walked but TALKED in his sleep, it possesseda more mysterious significance. It seemed that Susan was awakened onenight by the sound of voices, and, opening her door softly, saw a figurewhich she at first supposed to be the Senor Perkins, but which she nowwas satisfied was poor Mr. Hurlstone. As there was no one else to beseen, the voices must have proceeded from that single figure; and beingin a strange and unknown tongue, were inexpressibly weird and awful.When pressed to remember what was said, she could only distinguish oneword--a woman's name--Virgil--Vigil--no: Virginescia!
"It must have been one of those creatures at Callao, whose pictures youcan buy for ten cents," said Mrs. Brimmer.
"If it is one of them, Susan must have made a mistake in the first twosyllables of the name," said Mrs. Markham grimly.
"But sure
ly, Miss Keene," said Miss Chubb, turning to that young lady,who had taken only the part of a passive listener to this colloquy, andwas gazing over the railing at the sinking sun, "surely YOU can tellus something about this poor young man. If I don't mistake, you are theonly person he ever honored with his conversation."
"And only once, I think," said the young girl, slightly coloring. "Hehappened to be sitting next to me on deck, and I believe he spoke onlyout of politeness. At least, he seemed very quiet and reserved, andtalked on general topics, and I thought very intelligently. I--shouldhave thought--I mean," she continued hesitatingly--"I thought he was aneducated gentleman."
"That isn't at all inconsistent with photographs or sleep-walking," saidMrs. Brimmer, with one of her vague simplicities. "Uncle Quincey broughthome a whole sheaf of those women whom he said he'd met; and one of mycousins, who was educated at Heidelberg, used to walk in his sleep, asit were, all over Europe."
"Did you notice anything queer in his eyes, Miss Keene?" asked MissChubb vivaciously.
Miss Keene had noticed that his eyes were his best feature, albeitsomewhat abstracted and melancholy; but, for some vague reason she couldnot explain herself, she answered hurriedly that she had seen nothingvery particular in them.
"Well," said Mrs. Markham positively, "when he's able to be out again,I shall consider it my duty to look him up, and try to keep himsufficiently awake in the daytime to ensure his resting better atnight."
"No one can do it, dear Mrs. Markham, better than you; and no one wouldthink of misunderstanding your motives," said Mrs. Brimmer sweetly. "Butit's getting late, and the air seems to be ever so much colder. CaptainBunker says it's because we are really nearing the Californian coast. Itseems so odd! Mr. Brimmer wrote to me that it was so hot in Sacramentothat you could do something with eggs in the sun--I forget what."
"Hatch them?" suggested Miss Chubb.
"I think so," returned Mrs. Brimmer, rising. "Let us go below."
The three ladies rustled away, but Miss Keene, throwing a wrap aroundher shoulders, lingered by the railing. With one little hand supportingher round chin, she leaned over the darkly heaving water. She wasthinking of her brief and only interview with that lonely man whose namewas now in everybody's mouth, but who, until to-day, had been passedover by them with an unconcern equal to his own. And yet to her refinedand delicately feminine taste there appeared no reason why he should nothave mingled with his fellows, and have accepted the homage from themthat SHE was instinctively ready to give. He seemed to her like agentleman--and something more. In her limited but joyous knowledge ofthe world--a knowledge gathered in the happy school-life of an orphanwho but faintly remembered and never missed a parent's care--she knewnothing of the mysterious dominance of passion, suffering, or experiencein fashioning the outward expression of men, and saw only that Mr.Hurlstone was unlike any other. That unlikeness was fascinating. He hadsaid very little to her in that very brief period. He had not talkedto her with the general gallantry which she already knew her prettinesselicited. Without knowing why, she felt there was a subtle flattery inhis tacit recognition of that other self of which she, as yet, knew solittle. She could not remember what they had talked about--nor why. Norwas she offended that he had never spoken to her since, nor gone beyonda grave lifting of his hat to her when he passed.