“Well?” I queried, looking up at him.
“I’ve introduced myself to her,” he said, and waited for me to question him.
“Tell me?” I prompted.
“Paid some larrikins to bail ’em up, so’s to give me the chance of playing ‘ ’Ere the conquering ’ero comes;’ but it went a bit flat, I must own,” he concluded.
“Yes,” I said, and waited.
“You see, my men collared ’em down by the swamp. I’d followed at a reasonable distance, so as to be ready to march on when the band struck up; but the first thing I knew there was a flash, bang, bang, and the crowd of them were running like sheep, with the red-haired chap blazing hot and strong after ’em.”
At that I laughed heartily, my chum joining in somewhat disconsolately.
“And so it’s the other man who’s the hero,” I remarked.
Jack nodded, looking rueful.
“I did the best I could under the circs,” he explained. “Ran up at a great pelt, and asked what was wrong, and could I be of any assistance, and all that sort of thing; but the red-haired chap said they’d driven ’em off quicker’n they’d want to come back, he guessed. And so there was nothing to do but receive their thanks, which I did gracefully enough, and then walked back here with the two of them. However, I’ve got to speech with them, and that’s something; though one of the larrys has been sent up by the others to say that they hadn’t bargained to be shot at, and the result is I’ll have to tip up pretty handsomely.”
The next day Jack spent in hunting round after the grey-eyed girl, and in making himself as useful and agreeable as possible. That night he told me he had invited them for a sail in his yacht on the following day.
“But you haven’t got a yacht,” I protested.
“Haven’t I?” he said. “I bought one to-day, after getting her to promise. I paid fifty down, and I’m to pay the other hundred to-morrow.”
“But—but—” I said, and halted.
“It’s all right, old man,” he replied. “I’m making the running, and I’ll cut that red-haired chap out, or else drown him. Did you ever know me not get my way when I was set on a thing?”
“This is different,” I answered. “If the girl’s really fond of the other chap, all the yachts and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men won’t be of any use to help you to get your way.”
‘‘Well, my boy,” he replied, with an air of tremendous assurance, “you wait and see.”
Three days passed, and on each one of them my chum took the grey-eyed girl and “the red-haired chap”—as he would persist in calling her friend—out in his newly acquired yacht. Yet, at the end of the third day, as he informed me in a somewhat disconsolate manner, he was unable to say conscientiously that he had made any visible progress in the lady’s affections; whereat I laughed loud and long, and begged him, at least, to try and remember that he couldn’t very well expect to cut out “the other man” and win the grey-eyed girl’s affections all within a few hours after making her acquaintance. Yet, for all my assurance, I could see that my chum was revolving some matter in his mind, which I doubted not was some plan whereby his end might be the more immediately achieved., That I was right the next day proved, for he came into the hotel all dripping with sea-water, and followed by the grey-eyed girl and her friend, all in equally disconsolate state.
When my chum had changed, I got from him some of the details, and found that he had deliberately capsized the yacht in a squall, intending to take his chance to pose as the lady’s rescuer; but, as fate would have it, he got tangled in the wet sail, and would probably have been drowned had it not been for the other man, who, having first assisted the girl to a place of safety astride the keel of the boat, had gone to his assistance and rescued him, practically at the last gasp.
Yet such is human nature in love that my ungrateful chum actually cursed his saviour for a “red-haired devil.”
The following day came the climax. My chum, meeting the other man outside, had with intentional brutality offered to pay him for “service rendered” in freeing him from beneath the sail. This the other man haughtily refused to discuss, but my chum pressing it, he grew angry, and soon after that—my chum having chosen to offer his undesired gold at a place where they were quite to themselves— the two of them were plying vigorous fists. Here, as it proved, my chum came out top man, and presently, having come more to possession of his senses, was tending the needs of his less fortunate preserver.
For the next three or four days Jack kept to his room, for he had come off by no means free of damage in the fight, and he had little wish for his desired lady-love to see him all be-battered as he was, his nose puffy and his left eye encircled with blue and purple tints.
At last, however, he was once more presentable, and made his appearance next morning at breakfast. The grey-eyed girl was opposite to him, as usual, and it struck me, by the brightness of those same eyes and the expression of her face, that my chum was in for a bad time when she should have him alone. Nor was I mistaken.
So soon as breakfast was over, she left her man friend, and came right across to us. Me she ignored; but, bowing slightly to my chum, she requested him, speaking in a very quiet voice, to escort her out on to the verandah. The rest I must give as my chum told it me an hour or two later in the privacy of my room.
“Well, she gave me jip,” he began, in answer to the question in my eyes. “Just socked it into me for all she was worth, and I’m hanged if I didn’t love her better for her temper—she looked like a little angel. And she calmed down after a bit, and gave me a chance to speak, and I told her straight that I was confoundedly sorry and ashamed of myself; and then I said right out that I loved her, and that I would never have been such a cad if it hadn’t been that I was so confoundedly jealous of the other chap that I couldn’t bear the sight of him. At that I expected her to give me the go-by; but she didn’t, only an awfully queer look came into her face, and, somehow, you know, she didn’t seem half so angry with me after that, though she was still very much on her high horse. Before she sent me away, I asked her if there was any chance for me, and whether she really loved the other chap; and she said how dare I, and that she loved him very much, and that I wasn’t to dare ever to speak to her again in that fashion. And that’s all.”
From week to week my chum delayed our departure, for he was, as he himself put it, “Dead set on winning.” And gradually, it must be said, the little grey-eyed girl ceased to keep him coldly at a distance; though it was plain to me that my chum had never a chance, for the other man was constantly with her, and seemed to be more in her favour than ever.
Then one day, after we had been in Melbourne something over six weeks, my chum came bursting into my room.
“I’ve won!” he exclaimed, and thumped the table with one great fist. “Bless her! I’ll marry her this week, if she’ll only be sensible!”
“But the other man?” I exclaimed, confounded, for I had seen her kiss him but the previous day.
My chum sat down, then he said, speaking with great solemnity:
“He’s her brother.”
“O-h-h!” I said, and began to see things in their true light.
“And the little beggar kept it back ever since our row, and left me to go on believing that he was her sweetheart. It only came out by chance to-day, and I tackled her right off, and she caved in, and promised never to do it again. Wasn’t that like her?”
“You ought to know,” I replied.
And directly afterwards that self-willed man went away to arrange the date.
Kind, Kind and Gentle Is She
“Kind, kind and gentle is she,
Kind is my Mary;
The tender blossoms on the tree
Cannot compare wi’ Mary.”
LOVE!” said little Tripe Jones gloomily. “Of course I know
wot love is. I’m bothered with it. I always ’ave been. It’s you great hulkin’ brutes as don’t know! You ain’t got the ’eart, n
ot for all your size! Look at you!”
Jell Murphy, the big man sitting on the next cot, nodded soberly.
“I guess you’re right, Tripe,” he said slowly. “I never felt it that way, nohow; but I’d like mighty fine to. I used often to say a man hadn’t come proper alive until he’d gone and fallen in love, but it’s never come my way.”
“Garn!” said Tripe jealously. “There’s Maggie, the colonel’s wife’s maid, is proper struck on you. She won’t never give me a word, an’ me never stoppin’ thinkin’ about ’er.”
Jell Murphy shook his head. “That ain’t no use to me,” he said. “She don’t count with me. I ain’t said a word to make her like me, and she ain’t my sort. I want someone that’ll make me feel I’m going to do some blessed thing. Maggie’s a nice woman, but she’s not what I got in my thoughts, anyhow.”
“A bloomin’ princess you wants!” said Tripe Jones, sneering whimsically. “You got some neck on to you, you ’ave! Your idees ain’t no sorter use for a bloomin’ privit. Maybe you?d like to offer your ’and an’ ’eart to the colonel’s daughter. Give me Maggie. She’s a proper dandy.”
An orderly stuck his head in through the farthest doorway of the great, whitewashed barrack-room.
“Jell Murphy ’ere?” he shouted.
“Yes,” said the big man, rising, and reaching mechanically for his belt.
“Cap’n ’Arrison wants you up to his quarters immejit!” said the orderly, and departed.
Jell stood a moment, with a slight frown; then began to buckle his belt.
“I reck’n the cap’n is goin’ to offer you the charnst to be body servant to ’im!” said little Tripe Jones, grinning perversely up at his big comrade; for he knew Jell’s fiercely independent spirit. “You’ll be a gentleman’s gentleman then,” he added. “An’ the cap’n ’ll give you his old clo’es, an’ you’ll bloomin’ well ’ave to see there ain’t no creases in ’is best toonic! Ain’t you bloomin’ grieved we ain’t at ’ome, where a white man ’d stand a charnst of a fine job like that? That’s the worst of India.”
“Hell!” said Murphy; and walked out through the doorway, across the courtyard to where Captain Harrison had his quarters.
He found the captain standing on his balcony, talking to a peculiarly beautiful woman, whom he knew by sight—as did all the station—to be the Lady Mary Worthington, always spoken of as Lady Mary.
“You sent for me, sir,” said Jell Murphy, saluting.
“That you, Murphy?” said the captain. Come up on the verandah! I want you to oblige me in something, if you will.”
He turned to the lady:
“This is the man I was speaking to you about,” he said, as Jell stopped at the top of the steps. “If you can persuade Murphy to sing for you, I can guarantee your concert will be a success. He’s got easily the finest voice in the regiment.”
Lady Mary Worthington stared at Murphy with undisguised interest. She had only recently come up to the hill station, where she was paying a visit to the colonel and his wife, the latter being her sister. She had never seen the man before, but he was certainly worth the seeing, for a finer specimen of manhood she had never seen. Jell Murphy stood over six feet in height, and weighed nearly sixteen stone of shapely bone, muscle, and sinew, without an ounce of fat to spoil his clean symmetry. Moreover, he had rather a fine head and face; and he was very distinctly young, and in some ways was plainly a little unsophisticated.
Lady Mary, woman of more seasons than she was beginning to want to remember, was impressed, and smiled entrancingly as she spoke.
“Will you?” she asked. And Murphy’s big grey eyes grew bewildered as she looked into them. “Captain Harrison assures me that you have the best voice in the station,” she continued, still looking at him bewitchingly. “I want you on my programme. Now will you let me put your name down—some good old home-country song? All the songs are to be the old home-country songs. May I put you down, Mr. Murphy?”
Jell Murphy stirred slightly at the title, then nodded his dark head, clearing his throat nervously.
“Yes,” he said. “I should be proud to do anything to please you,” he ended simply. “When would you want me?” he added.
Lady Mary stuck a provoking forefinger under her lower lip, and pondered.
“I should like to try you over to-day, if possible,” she said. “How would half-past five do, if that will suit Captain Harrison?”—turning to the officer.
“Perfectly all right,” said the captain enthusiastically. “I’ll see that Murphy is free.”
“At five-thirty, then, up at the bungalow,” said the Lady Mary, bowing slightly to Jell. “I shall expect you, and we can settle your song then. Ask for me when you come Good-bye.”
Jell Murphy muttered something confusedly, saluted, and wheeled to the steps, which he stumbled down, though gracefully enough, as the lady noticed; for she was perfectly aware of the kind of impression she had made.
“A fine-looking man,” she remarked to Captain Harrison. “Now to get on with my list of names. What a pity you’ve no voice, Captain Harrison! I should have insisted on having a song from you. My sister will sing, ‘When other lips;’ and I suppose I must let that old frump, Mrs. Stanmey, put all our nerves on edge with her ‘Ben Bowling.’ Why can’t she sing something feminine? Then there’s Miss Tolfrey, and her brother, that young lieutenant. I’ve put them down,” etc., etc.
II
“What are your favourite songs?” asked Lady Mary, as she seated herself at the piano that evening.
“I’ve lots,” he said. “But there’s none of them I like as well as ‘Kathleen Mavourneen,’ and ‘Mary, My Mary.’ “
“They’re both of them love-songs, Mr. Murphy,” said Lady Mary, glancing up at him. “Somehow I shouldn’t have thought you cared for love-songs.”
Yet, really, she had guessed all the time that his taste would run that way. She had seen a good deal of men, and had readily perceived the possibilities that lay but a little way down in this big, rather earnest young man.
“I know plenty of barrack-room songs,” hastily said Jell, who had flushed a little at her remark. “Maybe you’d like one of them?”
“No,” said the woman, smiling down at the notes, so that he could not see her expression. “I think one of the two you mentioned will do very well. I like love-songs myself. Shall we try the Mavourneen one?”
She rippled out the prelude, and Murphy broke into the song, a little nervously; but his voice was magnificent, and tears of sheer ecstasy came into Lady Mary’s eyes. The song ended, and she let her fingers rest on the notes as she looked up at the man.
“You really have a splendid voice,” she said. “Shall we try the second one?”
By this time big Murphy had his voice in full control, and he let himself go; whilst the woman at the piano shivered a little, because of the beauty of the voice and the force of feeling that seemed to be behind the words. Jell was looking down at her head of bronze-gold hair as he sang, and she was perfectly aware of the fact. Probably it was her temperament which made her read more into his accentuation than ever he had any thought of putting there; though, possibly, he was stirred to an expression of vague feelings, that he had no intimate knowledge of at the time.
“Oh!” she said to herself several times, under her breath. “What a voice! What a voice!” But though it was truly a wonderful voice, the man’s clean vigour and unspoilt personality had also its effect in helping so to impress her. Somehow, she could not get rid of a feeling that there was something strange, something personal in the accentuation of the words of the song, yet nothing that held the least offence for her. If she felt aright, it was but one more tribute among, oh, so many to her fascination. Quite an absurd number had betrayed “symptoms” at the first meeting!
The song ended; but she did not look up at him. She had been stirred peculiarly; and she turned over the leaves of Murphy’s song-book until she had steadied. The beauty that has its primary effect on the em
otions reached home to her quickly.
“You have really a splendid voice, Mr. Murphy,” she said, for the second time, “It is a real gift. If you were trained, nothing would stop you. I have troubled you enough for to-night, I think. I like the second song best”—she was aware that her choice had pleased the man in some vague way. “We must go through it together a few times before the concert.” She rose, and shook hands with him, feeling him quiver, as her firm hand gripped his enormously muscular one. “You must be tremendously strong,” she said, without any intention of speaking. Then, hastily: “ Good-night; so good of you to agree to sing for me.” And ushered him out.
“What on earth did I say that for?” she asked herself, half irritably, half amusedly, as she passed into the next room. “But I’m sure he is.”
III
“You’re mighty struck on your Lady Mary!” said little Tripe Jones, something like a fortnight later.
Tripe had put one or two details together with his accustomed acuteness. He had dug some unwillingly willing facts out of Jell by the aid of remorseless questions, and, for the rest, he had used his eyes and his ears.
“You’re always hummin’ an’ hummin’ that Mary song of yourn!” added Tripe. “You must be struck on the fine lady as is teachin’ you singin’ better ’n the Almighty knew ’ow!”
The big man, lying on the next cot in his shirt and trousers, stopped his soft humming, and turned his head towards where the little man lay.
“What’s that?” he said. “What d’you mean?”
“Well, you ain’t never done singin’ ‘Kind is your Mary,’ “ replied Tripe, almost pugnaciously. “An’ you go about lookin’ every blessed moment as if you was kissin’ saints in ’eaven—wimmin saints, I mean. I know the signs; and well I should, too. I’ve ’ad the experience, w’ich you ain’t; only I always ’ad the sense to bother with my own sort. An’ you can take it from me you has it good an’ hard, and the Lord help you, Mister Jell Murphy, privit; for there ain’t nothing in it but trouble. You’d ’a better took Maggie, an’ got spliced proper an’ settled—”
The Night Land & Other Romances Page 58