The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 19

by Robert Louis Stevenson

  CHAPTER XI

  DAVID AND GOLIATH

  Huish had bundled himself up from the glare of the day--his face to thehouse, his knees retracted. The frail bones in the thin tropical raimentseemed scarce more considerable than a fowl's; and Davis, sitting on therail with his arm about a stay, contemplated him with gloom, wonderingwhat manner of counsel that insignificant figure should contain. Forsince Herrick had thrown him off and deserted to the enemy, Huish, aloneof mankind, remained to him to be a helper and oracle.

  He considered their position with a sinking heart. The ship was a stolenship; the stores, whether from initial carelessness or illadministration during the voyage, were insufficient to carry them to anyport except back to Papeete; and there retribution waited in the shapeof a gendarme, a judge with a queer-shaped hat, and the horror ofdistant Noumea. Upon that side there was no glimmer of hope. Here, atthe island, the dragon was roused; Attwater with his men and hisWinchesters watched and patrolled the house; let him who dare approachit. What else was then left but to sit there, inactive, pacing thedecks, until the _Trinity Hall_ arrived and they were cast into irons,or until the food came to an end, and the pangs of famine succeeded? Forthe _Trinity Hall_ Davis was prepared; he would barricade the house, anddie there defending it, like a rat in a crevice. But for the other? Thecruise of the _Farallone_, into which he had plunged, only a fortnightbefore, with such golden expectations, could this be the nightmare endof it? The ship rotting at anchor, the crew stumbling and dying in thescuppers? It seemed as if any extreme of hazard were to be preferred toso grisly a certainty; as if it would be better to up-anchor after all,put to sea at a venture, and, perhaps, perish at the hands of cannibalson one of the more obscure Paumotus. His eye roved swiftly over sea andsky in quest of any promise of wind, but the fountains of the Trade wereempty. Where it had run yesterday and for weeks before, a roaring blueriver charioting clouds, silence now reigned; and the whole height ofthe atmosphere stood balanced. On the endless ribbon of island thatstretched out to either hand of him its array of golden and green andsilvery palms, not the most volatile frond was to be seen stirring; theydrooped to their stable images in the lagoon like things carved ofmetal, and already their long line began to reverberate heat. There wasno escape possible that day, none probable on the morrow. And still thestores were running out!

  Then came over Davis, from deep down in the roots of his being, or atleast from far back among his memories of childhood and innocence, awave of superstition. This run of ill-luck was something beyond natural;the chances of the game were in themselves more various: it seemed as ifthe devil must serve the pieces. The devil? He heard again the clearnote of Attwater's bell ringing abroad into the night, and dying away.How if God...?

  Briskly he averted his mind. Attwater: that was the point. Attwater hadfood and a treasure of pearls; escape made possible in the present,riches in the future. They must come to grips with Attwater; the manmust die. A smoky heat went over his face, as he recalled the impotentfigure he had made last night, and the contemptuous speeches he mustbear in silence. Rage, shame, and the love of life, all pointed the oneway; and only invention halted: how to reach him? had he strengthenough? was there any help in that misbegotten packet of bones againstthe house?

  His eyes dwelled upon him with a strange avidity, as though he wouldread into his soul; and presently the sleeper moved, stirred uneasily,turned suddenly round, and threw him a blinking look. Davis maintainedthe same dark stare, and Huish looked away again and sat up.

  "Lord, I've an 'eadache on me!" said he. "I believe I was a bit swipeylast night. W'ere's that cry-byby 'Errick?"

  "Gone," said the captain.

  "Ashore?" cried Huish. "O, I say! I'd 'a gone too."

  "Would you?" said the captain.

  "Yes, I would," replied Huish. "I like Attwater. 'E's all right; we goton like one o'clock when you were gone. And ain't his sherry in it,rather? It's like Spiers and Pond's Amontillado! I wish I 'ad a drain ofit now." He sighed.

  "Well, you'll never get no more of it--that's one thing," said Davisgravely.

  "'Ere, wot's wrong with you, Dyvis? Coppers 'ot? Well, look at _me_! _I_ain't grumpy," said Huish; "I'm as plyful as a canary-bird, I am."

  "Yes," said Davis, "you're playful; I own that; and you were playfullast night, I believe, and a damned fine performance you made of it."

  "'Allo!" said Huish. "'Ow's this? Wot performance?"

  "Well, I'll tell you," said the captain, getting slowly off the rail.

  And he did: at full length, with every wounding epithet and absurddetail repeated and emphasised; he had his own vanity and Huish's uponthe grill, and roasted them; and as he spoke he inflicted and enduredagonies of humiliation. It was a plain man's masterpiece of thesardonic.

  "What do you think of it?" said he, when he had done, and looked down atHuish, flushed and serious, and yet jeering.

  "I'll tell you wot it is," was the reply: "you and me cut a pretty dickyfigure."

  "That's so," said Davis, "a pretty measly figure, by God! And, by God,I want to see that man at my knees."

  "Ah!" said Huish. "'Ow to get him there?"

  "That's it!" cried Davis. "How to get hold of him! They're four to two;though there's only one man among them to count, and that's Attwater.Get a bead on Attwater, and the others would cut and run and sing outlike frightened poultry--and old man Herrick would come round with hishat for a share of the pearls. No, _sir_! it's how to get hold ofAttwater! And we daren't even go ashore; he would shoot us in the boatlike dogs."

  "Are you particular about having him dead or alive?" asked Huish.

  "I want to see him dead," said the captain.

  "Ah, well!" said Huish, "then I believe I'll do a bit of breakfast."

  And he turned into the house.

  The captain doggedly followed him.

  "What's this?" he asked. "What's your idea, anyway?"

  "O, you let me alone, will you?" said Huish, opening a bottle ofchampagne. "You'll 'ear my idea soon enough. Wyte till I pour some chamon my 'ot coppers." He drank a glass off, and affected to listen."'Ark!" said he, "'ear it fizz. Like 'am frying, I declyre. 'Ave aglass, do, and look sociable."

  "No!" said the captain, with emphasis; "no, I will not! there'sbusiness."

  "You p'ys your money and you tykes your choice, my little man," returnedHuish. "Seems rather a shyme to me to spoil your breakfast for wot'sreally ancient 'istory."

  He finished three parts of a bottle of champagne, and nibbled a cornerof biscuit, with extreme deliberation; the captain sitting opposite andchamping the bit like an impatient horse. Then Huish leaned his arms onthe table and looked Davis in the face.

  "W'en you're ready!" said he.

  "Well, now, what's your idea?" said Davis, with a sigh.

  "Fair play!" said Huish. "What's yours?"

  "The trouble is that I've got none," replied Davis; and wandered forsome time in aimless discussion of the difficulties of their path, anduseless explanations of his own fiasco.

  "About done?" said Huish.

  "I'll dry up right here," replied Davis.

  "Well, then," said Huish, "you give me your 'and across the table, andsay, 'Gawd strike me dead if I don't back you up.'"

  His voice was hardly raised, yet it thrilled the hearer. His face seemedthe epitome of cunning, and the captain recoiled from it as from a blow.

  "What for?" said he.

  "Luck," said Huish. "Substantial guarantee demanded."

  And he continued to hold out his hand.

  "I don't see the good of any such tomfoolery," said the other.

  "I do, though," returned Huish. "Gimme your 'and and say the words; thenyou'll 'ear my view of it. Don't, and you don't."

  The captain went through the required form, breathing short, and gazingon the clerk with anguish. What to fear he knew not, yet he fearedslavishly what was to fall from the pale lips.

  "Now, if you'll excuse me 'alf a second," said Huish, "I'll go and fetchthe byby."
r />   "The baby?" said Davis. "What's that?"

  "Fragile. With care. This side up," replied the clerk with a wink, as hedisappeared.

  He returned, smiling to himself, and carrying in his hand a silkhandkerchief. The long stupid wrinkles ran up Davis's brow as he saw it.What should it contain? He could think of nothing more recondite than arevolver.

  Huish resumed his seat.

  "Now," said he, "are you man enough to take charge of 'Errick and theniggers? Because I'll take care of Hattwater."

  "How?" cried Davis. "You can't!"

  "Tut, tut!" said the clerk. "You gimme time. Wot's the first point? Thefirst point is that we can't get ashore, and I'll make you a present ofthat for a 'ard one. But 'ow about a flag of truce? Would that do thetrick, d'ye think? or would Attwater simply blyze aw'y at us in thebloomin' boat like dawgs?"

  "No," said Davis, "I don't believe he would."

  "No more do I," said Huish; "I don't believe he would either; and I'msure I 'ope he won't! So then you can call us ashore. Next point is toget near the managin' direction. And for that I'm going to 'ave youwrite a letter, in w'ich you s'y you're ashymed to meet his eye, andthat the bearer, Mr. J. L. 'Uish, is empowered to represent you. Armedwith w'ich seemin'ly simple expedient, Mr. J. L. 'Uish will proceed tobusiness."

  He paused, like one who had finished, but still held Davis with his eye.

  "How?" said Davis. "Why?"

  "Well, you see, you're big," returned Huish; "'e knows you 'ave a gun inyour pocket, and anybody can see with 'alf an eye that you ain't the manto 'esitate about usin' it. So it's no go with you, and never was;you're out of the runnin', Dyvis. But he won't be afryde of me, I'm sucha little 'un! I'm unarmed--no kid about that--and I'll hold my 'ands upright enough." He paused. "If I can manage to sneak up nearer to him aswe talk," he resumed, "you look out and back me up smart. If I don't, wego aw'y again, and nothink to 'urt. See?"

  The captain's face was contorted by the frenzied effort to comprehend.

  "No, I don't see," he cried; "I can't see. What do you mean?"

  "I mean to do for the beast!" cried Huish, in a burst of venomoustriumph. "I'll bring the 'ulkin' bully to grass. He's 'ad his larks outof me; I'm goin' to 'ave my lark out of 'im, and a good lark too!"

  "What is it?" said the captain, almost in a whisper.

  "Sure you want to know?" asked Huish.

  Davis rose and took a turn in the house.

  "Yes, I want to know," he said at last with an effort.

  "W'en your back's at the wall, you do the best you can, don't you?"began the clerk. "I s'y that, because I 'appen to know there's aprejudice against it; it's considered vulgar, awf'ly vulgar." Heunrolled the handkerchief and showed a four-ounce jar. "This 'ere'svitriol, this is," said he.

  The captain stared upon him with a whitening face.

  "This is the stuff!" he pursued, holding it up. "This'll burn to thebone; you'll see it smoke upon 'im like 'ell-fire! One drop upon 'isbloomin' heyesight, and I'll trouble you for Attwater!"

  "No, no, by God!" exclaimed the captain.

  "Now, see 'ere, ducky," said Huish, "this is my bean-feast, I believe?I'm goin' up to that man single-'anded, I am. 'E's about seven foothigh, and I'm five foot one. 'E's a rifle in his 'and, 'e's on thelook-out, 'e wasn't born yesterday. This is Dyvid and Goliar, I tellyou! If I'd ast you to walk up and face the music I could understand.But I don't. I on'y ast you to stand by and spifflicate the niggers.It'll all come in quite natural; you'll see, else! Fust thing, you know,you'll see him running round and 'owling like a good 'un...."

  "Don't!" said Davis. "Don't talk of it!"

  "Well, you _are_ a juggins!" exclaimed Huish. "What did you want? Youwanted to kill him, and tried to last night. You wanted to kill the 'olelot of them, and tried to, and 'ere I show you 'ow; and because there'ssome medicine in a bottle you kick up this fuss!"

  "I suppose that's so," said Davis. "It don't seem someways reasonable,only there it is."

  "It's the happlication of science, I suppose?" sneered Huish.

  "I don't know what it is," cried Davis, pacing the floor; "it's there! Idraw the line at it. I can't put a finger to no such piggishness. It'stoo damned hateful!"

  "And I suppose it's all your fancy pynted it," said Huish, "w'en youtake a pistol and a bit o' lead, and copse a man's brains all over him?No accountin' for tystes."

  "I'm not denying it," said Davis; "it's something here, inside of me.It's foolishness; I daresay it's dam foolishness. I don't argue; I justdraw the line. Isn't there no other way?"

  "Look for yourself," said Huish. "I ain't wedded to this, if you think Iam; I ain't ambitious; I don't make a point of playin' the lead; I offerto, that's all, and if you can't show me better, by Gawd, I'm goin' to!"

  "Then the risk!" cried Davis.

  "If you ast me straight, I should say it was a case of seven to one, andno takers," said Huish. "But that's my look-out, ducky, and I'm gyme.Look at me, Dyvis, there ain't any shilly-shally about me. I'm gyme,that's wot I am: gyme all through."

  The captain looked at him. Huish sat there preening his sinister vanity,glorying in his precedency in evil; and the villainous courage andreadiness of the creature shone out of him like a candle from a lantern.Dismay and a kind of respect seized hold on Davis in his own despite.Until that moment he had seen the clerk always hanging back, alwayslistless, uninterested, and openly grumbling at a word of anything todo; and now, by the touch of an enchanter's wand, he beheld him sittinggirt and resolved, and his face radiant. He had raised the devil, hethought; and asked who was to control him, and his spirits quailed.

  "Look as long as you like," Huish was going on. "You don't see any greenin my eye! I ain't afryde of Attwater, I ain't afryde of you, and Iain't afryde of words. You want to kill people, that's wot _you_ want;but you want to do it in kid gloves, and it can't be done that w'y.Murder ain't genteel, it ain't easy, it ain't safe, and it tykes a manto do it. 'Ere's the man."

  "Huish!" began the captain with energy; and then stopped, and remainedstaring at him with corrugated brows.

  "Well, hout with it!" said Huish. "'Ave you anythink else to put up? Isthere any other chanst to try?"

  The captain held his peace.

  "There you are then!" said Huish, with a shrug.

  Davis fell again to his pacing.

  "O, you may do sentry-go till you're blue in the mug, you won't findanythink else," said Huish.

  There was a little silence; the captain, like a man launched on a swing,flying dizzily among extremes of conjecture and refusal.

  "But see," he said, suddenly pausing. "Can you? Can the thing be done?It--it can't be easy."

  "If I get within twenty foot of 'im it'll be done; so you look out,"said Huish, and his tone of certainty was absolute.

  "How can you know that?" broke from the captain in a choked cry. "Youbeast, I believe you've done it before!"

  "O, that's private affyres," returned Huish; "I ain't a talking man."

  A shock of repulsion struck and shook the captain; a scream rose almostto his lips; had he uttered it, he might have cast himself at the samemoment on the body of Huish, might have picked him up, and flung himdown, and wiped the cabin with him, in a frenzy of cruelty that seemedhalf moral. But the moment passed; and the abortive crisis left the manweaker. The stakes were so high--the pearls on the one hand--starvationand shame on the other. Ten years of pearls! the imagination of Davistranslated them into a new, glorified existence for himself and hisfamily. The seat of this new life must be in London; there were deadlyreasons against Portland, Maine; and the pictures that came to him wereof English manners. He saw his boys marching in the procession of aschool, with gowns on, an usher marshalling them and reading as hewalked in a great book. He was installed in a villa, semi-detached; thename, "Rosemore," on the gateposts. In a chair on the gravel walk heseemed to sit smoking a cigar, a blue ribbon in his buttonhole, victorover himself and circumstances and the malignity of bankers. He saw theparlour, with red curtains, a
nd shells on the mantelpiece--and, with thefine inconsistency of visions, mixed a grog at the mahogany table ere heturned in. With that the _Farallone_ gave one of the aimless andnameless movements which (even in an anchored ship, and even in the mostprofound calm) remind one of the mobility of fluids; and he was backagain under the cover of the house, the fierce daylight besieging it allround and glaring in the chinks, and the clerk in a rather airyattitude, awaiting his decision.

  He began to walk again. He aspired after the realisation of thesedreams, like a horse nickering for water; the lust of them burned in hisinside. And the only obstacle was Attwater, who had insulted him fromthe first. He gave Herrick a full share of the pearls, he insisted onit; Huish opposed him, and he trod the opposition down; and praisedhimself exceedingly. He was not going to use vitriol himself; was heHuish's keeper? It was a pity he had asked, but after all! ... he saw theboys again in the school procession, with the gowns he had thought to beso "tony" long since.... And at the same time the incomparable shame ofthe last evening blazed up in his mind.

  "Have it your own way!" he said hoarsely.

  "O, I knew you would walk up," said Huish. "Now for the letter. There'spaper, pens, and ink. Sit down and I'll dictyte."

  The captain took a seat and the pen, looked a while helplessly at thepaper, then at Huish. The swing had gone the other way; there was a blurupon his eyes. "It's a dreadful business," he said, with a strong twitchof his shoulders.

  "It's rather a start, no doubt," said Huish. "Tyke a dip of ink. That'sit. _William John Hattwater, Esq. Sir:_" he dictated.

  "How do you know his name is William John?" asked Davis.

  "Saw it on a packing-case," said Huish. "Got that?"

  "No," said Davis. "But there's another thing. What are we to write?"

  "O my golly!" cried the exasperated Huish. "Wot kind of man do _you_call yourself? _I'm_ goin' to tell you wot to write; that's _my_ pitch;if you'll just be so bloomin' condescendin' as to write it down!_William John Attwater, Esq., Sir:_" he reiterated. And, the captain atlast beginning half mechanically to move his pen, the dictationproceeded: "_It is with feelings of shyme and 'artfelt contrition that Iapproach you after the yumiliatin' events of last night. Our Mr. 'Errickhas left the ship, and will have doubtless communicated to you thenature of our 'opes. Needless to s'y, these are no longer possible: Fate'as declyred against us, and we bow the 'ead. Well awyre as I am of thejust suspicions with w'ich I am regarded, I do not venture to solicitthe fyvour of an interview for myself, but in order to put an end to asituytion w'ich must be equally pyneful to all, I 'ave deputed my friendand partner, Mr. J. L. Huish, to l'y before you my proposals, and w'ichby their moderytion, will, I trust, be found to merit your attention.Mr. J. L. Huish is entirely unarmed, I swear to Gawd! and will 'old 'is'ands over 'is 'ead from the moment he begins to approach you. I am yourfytheful servant, John Dyvis._"

  Huish read the letter with the innocent joy of amateurs, chuckledgustfully to himself, and reopened it more than once after it wasfolded, to repeat the pleasure, Davis meanwhile sitting inert andheavily frowning.

  Of a sudden he rose; he seemed all abroad. "No!" he cried. "No! it can'tbe! It's too much; it's damnation. God would never forgive it."

  "Well, and 'oo wants Him to?" returned Huish, shrill with fury. "Youwere damned years ago for the _Sea Rynger_, and said so yourself. Wellthen, be damned for something else, and 'old your tongue."

  The captain looked at him mistily. "No," he pleaded, "no, old man! don'tdo it."

  "'Ere now," said Huish, "I'll give you my ultimytum. Go or st'y w'ereyou are; I don't mind; I'm goin' to see that man and chuck this vitriolin his eyes. If you st'y I'll go alone; the niggers will likely knock meon the 'ead, and a fat lot you'll be the better! But there's one thingsure: I'll 'ear no more of your moonin' mullygrubbin' rot, and tyke itstryte."

  The captain took it with a blink and a gulp. Memory, with phantomvoices, repeated in his ears something similar, something he had oncesaid to Herrick--years ago it seemed.

  "Now, gimme over your pistol," said Huish. "I 'ave to see all clear. Sixshots, and mind you don't wyste them."

  The captain, like a man in a nightmare, laid down his revolver on thetable, and Huish wiped the cartridges and oiled the works.

  It was close on noon, there was no breath of wind, and the heat wasscarce bearable, when the two men came on deck, had the boat manned, andpassed down, one after another, into the stern-sheets. A white shirt atthe end of an oar served as flag of truce; and the men, by direction,and to give it the better chance to be observed, pulled with extremeslowness. The isle shook before them like a place incandescent; on theface of the lagoon blinding copper suns, no bigger than sixpences,danced and stabbed them in the eyeballs: there went up from sand andsea, and even from the boat, a glare of scathing brightness; and as theycould only peer abroad from between closed lashes, the excess of lightseemed to be changed into a sinister darkness, comparable to that of athundercloud before it bursts.

  The captain had come upon this errand for any one of a dozen reasons,the last of which was desire for its success. Superstition rules allmen; semi-ignorant and gross natures, like that of Davis, it rulesutterly. For murder he had been prepared; but this horror of themedicine in the bottle went beyond him, and he seemed to himself to beparting the last strands that united him to God. The boat carried him onto reprobation, to damnation; and he suffered himself to be carriedpassively consenting, silently bidding farewell to his better self andhis hopes.

  Huish sat by his side in towering spirits that were not wholly genuine.Perhaps as brave a man as ever lived, brave as a weasel, he must stillreassure himself with the tones of his own voice; he must play his partto exaggeration, he must out-Herod Herod, insult all that wasrespectable, and brave all that was formidable, in a kind of desperatewager with himself.

  "Golly, but it's 'ot!" said he. "Cruel 'ot, I call it. Nice d'y to getyour gruel in! I s'y, you know, it must feel awf'ly peculiar to getbowled over on a d'y like this. I'd rather 'ave it on a cowld and frostymorning, wouldn't you? (Singing) ''_Ere we go round the mulberry bush ona cowld and frosty mornin'._' (Spoken) Give you my word, I 'aven'tthought o' that in ten year; used to sing it at a hinfant school in'Ackney, 'Ackney Wick it was. (Singing) '_This is the way the tylerdoes, the tyler does._' (Spoken) Bloomin' 'umbug.--'Ow are you off now,for the notion of a future styte? Do you cotton to the tea-fight views,or the old red-'ot bogey business?"

  "O, dry up!" said the captain.

  "No, but I want to know," said Huish. "It's within the sp'ere ofpractical politics for you and me, my boy; we may both be bowled over,one up, t'other down, within the next ten minutes. It would be rather alark, now, if you only skipped across, came up smilin' t'other side, anda hangel met you with a B. and S. under his wing. 'Ullo, you'd s'y:come, I tyke this kind."

  The captain groaned. While Huish was thus airing and exercising hisbravado, the man at his side was actually engaged in prayer. Prayer,what for? God knows. But out of his inconsistent, illogical, andagitated spirit, a stream of supplication was poured forth, inarticulateas himself, earnest as death and judgment.

  "Thou Gawd seest me!" continued Huish. "I remember I had that written inmy Bible. I remember the Bible too, all about Abinadab andparties.--Well, Gawd!" apostrophising the meridian, "you're goin' to seea rum start presently, I promise you that!"

  The captain bounded.

  "I'll have no blasphemy!" he cried, "no blasphemy in my boat."

  "All right, cap'," said Huish. "Anythink to oblige. Any other topic youwould like to sudgest, the ryne-gyge, the lightnin'-rod, Shykespeare, orthe musical glasses? 'Ere's conversation on tap. Put a penny in theslot, and ... 'ullo! 'ere they are!" he cried. "Now or never! is 'egoin' to shoot?"

  And the little man straightened himself into an alert and dashingattitude, and looked steadily at the enemy.

  But the captain rose half up in the boat with eyes protruding.

  "What's that?" he cried.

  "Wot's wot?" said Hu
ish.

  "Those--blamed things," said the captain.

  And indeed it was something strange. Herrick and Attwater, both armedwith Winchesters, had appeared out of the grove behind the figure-head;and to either hand of them, the sun glistened upon two metallic objects,locomotory like men, and occupying in the economy of these creatures theplaces of heads--only the heads were faceless. To Davis, between windand water, his mythology appeared to have come alive and Tophet to bevomiting demons. But Huish was not mystified a moment.

  "Divers' 'elmets, you ninny. Can't you see?" he said.

  "So they are," said Davis, with a gasp. "And why? O, I see, it's forarmour."

  "Wot did I tell you?" said Huish. "Dyvid and Goliar all the w'y andback."

  The two natives (for they it was that were equipped in this unusualpanoply of war) spread out to right and left, and at last lay down inthe shade, on the extreme flank of the position. Even now that themystery was explained, Davis was hatefully preoccupied, stared at theflame on their crests, and forgot, and then remembered with a smile, theexplanation.

  Attwater withdrew again into the grove, and Herrick, with his gun underhis arm, came down the pier alone.

  About halfway down he halted and hailed the boat.

  "What do you want?" he cried.

  "I'll tell that to Mr. Attwater," replied Huish, stepping briskly on theladder. "I don't tell it to you, because you played the trucklin' sneak.Here's a letter for him: tyke it, and give it, and be 'anged to you!"

  "Davis, is this all right?" said Herrick.

  Davis raised his chin, glanced swiftly at Herrick and away again, andheld his peace. The glance was charged with some deep emotion, butwhether of hatred or of fear, it was beyond Herrick to divine.

  "Well," he said, "I'll give the letter." He drew a score with his footon the boards of the gangway. "Till I bring the answer, don't move astep past this."

  And he returned to where Attwater leaned against a tree, and gave himthe letter. Attwater glanced it through.

  "What does that mean?" he asked, passing it to Herrick. "Treachery?"

  "O, I suppose so!" said Herrick.

  "Well, tell him to come on," said Attwater. "One isn't a fatalist fornothing. Tell him to come on and to look out."

  Herrick returned to the figure-head. Half-way down the pier the clerkwas waiting, with Davis by his side.

  "You are to come along, Huish," said Herrick. "He bids you to lookout--no tricks."

  Huish walked briskly up the pier, and paused face to face with the youngman.

  "W'ere is 'e?" said he, and to Herrick's surprise, the low-bred,insignificant face before him flushed suddenly crimson and went whiteagain.

  "Right forward," said Herrick, pointing. "Now, your hands above yourhead."

  The clerk turned away from him and towards the figure-head, as though hewere about to address to it his devotions; he was seen to heave a deepbreath; and raised his arms. In common with many men of his unhappyphysical endowments, Huish's hands were disproportionately long andbroad, and the palms in particular enormous; a four-ounce jar wasnothing in that capacious fist. The next moment he was plodding steadilyforward on his mission.

  Herrick at first followed. Then a noise in his rear startled him, and heturned about to find Davis already advanced as far as the figure-head.He came, crouching and open-mouthed, as the mesmerised may follow themesmeriser; all human considerations, and even the care of his own life,swallowed up in one abominable and burning curiosity.

  "Halt!" cried Herrick, covering him with his rifle. "Davis, what are youdoing, man? You are not to come."

  Davis instinctively paused, and regarded him with a dreadful vacancy ofeye.

  "Put your back to that figure-head--do you hear me?--and stand fast!"said Herrick.

  The captain fetched a breath, stepped back against the figure-head, andinstantly redirected his glances after Huish.

  There was a hollow place of the sand in that part, and, as it were, aglade among the coco-palms in which the direct noonday sun blazedintolerably. At the far end, in the shadow, the tall figure of Attwaterwas to be seen leaning on a tree; towards him, with his hands over hishead, and his steps smothered in the sand, the clerk painfully waded.The surrounding glare threw out and exaggerated the man's smallness; itseemed no less perilous an enterprise, this that he was gone upon, thanfor a whelp to besiege a citadel.

  "There, Mr. Whish. That will do," cried Attwater. "From that distance,and keeping your hands up, like a good boy, you can very well put me inpossession of the skipper's views."

  The interval betwixt them was perhaps forty feet; and Huish measured itwith his eye, and breathed a curse. He was already distressed withlabouring in the loose sand, and his arms ached bitterly from theirunnatural position. In the palm of his right hand the jar was ready; andhis heart thrilled, and his voice choked, as he began to speak.

  "Mr. Hattwater," said he, "I don't know if ever you 'ad a mother...."

  "I can set your mind at rest: I had," returned Attwater; "andhenceforth, if I may venture to suggest it, her name need not recur inour communications. I should perhaps tell you that I am not amenable tothe pathetic."

  "I am sorry, sir, if I 'ave seemed to tresparse on your privatefeelin's," said the clerk, cringing and stealing a step. "At least, sir,you will never pe'suade me that you are not a perfec' gentleman; I knowa gentleman when I see him; and as such, I 'ave no 'esitation inthrowin' myself on your merciful consideration. It _is_ 'ard lines, nodoubt; it's 'ard lines to have to hown yourself beat; it's 'ard lines to'ave to come and beg to you for charity."

  "When, if things had only gone right, the whole place was as good asyour own?" suggested Attwater. "I can understand the feeling."

  "You are judging me, Mr. Attwater," said the clerk, "and God knows howunjustly! _Thou Gawd seest me_, was the tex' I 'ad in my Bible, w'ich myfather wrote it in with 'is own 'and upon the fly-leaft."

  "I am sorry I have to beg your pardon once more," said Attwater; "but,do you know, you seem to me to be a trifle nearer, which is entirelyoutside of our bargain. And I would venture to suggest that you takeone--two--three--steps back; and stay there."

  The devil, at this staggering disappointment, looked out of Huish'sface, and Attwater was swift to suspect. He frowned, he stared on thelittle man, and considered. Why should he be creeping nearer? The nextmoment his gun was at his shoulder.

  "Kindly oblige me by opening your hands. Open your hands wide--let mesee the fingers spread, you dog--throw down that thing you're holding!"he roared, his rage and certitude increasing together.

  And then, at almost the same moment, the indomitable Huish decided tothrow, and Attwater pulled a trigger. There was scarce the difference ofa second between the two resolves, but it was in favour of the man withthe rifle; and the jar had not yet left the clerk's hand, before theball shattered both. For the twinkling of an eye the wretch was inhell's agonies, bathed in liquid flames, a screaming bedlamite; and thena second and more merciful bullet stretched him dead.

  The whole thing was come and gone in a breath. Before Herrick could turnabout, before Davis could complete his cry of horror, the clerk lay inthe sand, sprawling and convulsed.

  Attwater ran to the body; he stooped and viewed it; he put his finger inthe vitriol, and his face whitened and hardened with anger.

  Davis had not yet moved; he stood astonished, with his back to thefigure-head, his hands clutching it behind him, his body inclinedforward from the waist.

  Attwater turned deliberately and covered him with his rifle.

  "Davis," he cried, in a voice like a trumpet, "I give you sixty secondsto make your peace with God!"

  Davis looked, and his mind awoke. He did not dream of self-defence, hedid not reach for his pistol. He drew himself up instead to face death,with a quivering nostril.

  "I guess I'll not trouble the Old Man," he said; "considering the job Iwas on, I guess it's better business to just shut my face."

  Attwater fired; there came a spasmodic movement o
f the victim, andimmediately above the middle of his forehead a black hole marred thewhiteness of the figure-head. A dreadful pause; then again the report,and the solid sound and jar of the bullet in the wood; and this time thecaptain had felt the wind of it along his cheek. A third shot, and hewas bleeding from one ear; and along the levelled rifle Attwater smiledlike a red Indian.

  The cruel game of which he was the puppet was now clear to Davis; threetimes he had drunk of death, and he must look to drink of it seven timesmore before he was despatched. He held up his hand.

  "Steady!" he cried; "I'll take your sixty seconds."

  "Good!" said Attwater.

  The captain shut his eyes tight like a child: he held his hands up atlast with a tragic and ridiculous gesture.

  "My God, for Christ's sake, look after my two kids," he said; and then,after a pause and a falter, "for Christ's sake. Amen."

  And he opened his eyes and looked down the rifle with a quivering mouth.

  "But don't keep fooling me long!" he pleaded.

  "That's all your prayer?" asked Attwater, with a singular ring in hisvoice.

  "Guess so," said Davis.

  "So?" said Attwater, resting the butt of his rifle on the ground, "isthat done? Is your peace made with Heaven? Because it is with me. Go,and sin no more, sinful father. And remember that whatever you do toothers, God shall visit it again a thousandfold upon your innocents."

  The wretched Davis came staggering forward from his place against thefigure-head, fell upon his knees, and waved his hands, and fainted.

  When he came to himself again, his head was on Attwater's arm, andclose by stood one of the men in diver's helmets, holding a bucket ofwater, from which his late executioner now laved his face. The memory ofthat dreadful passage returned upon him in a clap; again he saw Huishlying dead, again he seemed to himself to totter on the brink of anunplumbed eternity. With trembling hands he seized hold of the man whomhe had come to slay; and his voice broke from him like that of a childamong the nightmares of fever: "O! isn't there no mercy? O! what must Ido to be saved?"

  "Ah!" thought Attwater, "here is the true penitent."