Works of W. W. Jacobs

by Jacobs, W. W.

  Knight nodded. “He’ll be all right,” he said confidently. “He’s very popular with the crew owing to his democratic notions. Moreover, he is at the present moment suffering badly from unrequited affection. Mudge has bestowed her hand and heart upon Markham, and I fancy that Biggs is in the mood at present for any mischief that turns up. He is in a reckless mood.”

  The doctor rose. “There’ll be a little surgical work for me, if you are not careful,” he remarked. “Mind, I’m not going to assist; I shall content myself with holding a watching brief.”

  “I knew you were all right,” said Knight, with a grin. “Come along at ten to-night and see me handle Biggs.”

  As a matter of fact, very little handling was required. Mr. Biggs evinced no surprise at the recital, and, so far from objecting to Knight’s improvements, came forward with some really good suggestions.

  “That’ll be all right, sir,” he said, delicately puffing at a cigar Knight had given him. “The bo’sun has already told the crew what is to be done, and it’ll be quite easy to make a few alterations. I was one of the first he told, him wanting my assistance. I’ve been teaching ’em how to howl this afternoon, down in the fo’c’sle. Surprising how slow they are at learning. They seemed to think they were a Sunday-school choir at first.”

  “Excellent,” said Knight. “But you’ll have to be careful with the bo’sun. Give him to understand that the new instructions are from Mr. Pope and the skipper and they preferred him to get them in a roundabout way. Tell him that it’s Carstairs’ wish, but nobody wants to appear responsible for it.”

  “Ay, ay, sir!” said Biggs, with a confident nod. “Tam won’t give any trouble. He’s a stiff chap, but he’s got the brain of a five-year-old. He’ll believe anything I tell him. And if I could tell the hands that there was a fiver for them if things go off properly—”

  “Of course,” said Knight. “And, by the way, you had better not be one of the mutineers.”

  “Course not, sir,” replied Biggs, in an injured voice. “I’m one of the after-guard. I’ve already arranged with the chap that’s to knock me out. Showed him just where to pretend to hit me. And told him to remember that it is pretending, too.”

  He helped himself to a whisky and soda by request and went off.

  “I thought he would be all right,” said Knight, turning to the silent doctor. “He didn’t like Lady Penrose interfering. She gave good advice to Mudge about Markham, so Mrs. Ginnell tells me. Biggs and Tarn are as thick as thieves now, and this business’ll be a labour of love to ’em.”

  “I’ll get a few dressings ready,” said Maloney. “When is this affair supposed to start?”

  “When we get to the island. Vobster expects to make it to-morrow. He prefers it to happen with the ship laid to. Pope says he is like a particularly nasty bear with a particularly nasty sore head. Can’t get anything out of him except grunts.”

  The atoll, represented by the tops of a little cluster of coco-nut palms, came into sight an hour after lunch next day. Other scattered palms became visible as the Starlight drew near, and a little later the long, narrow strip of land with the surf thundering on the beach drew most of the company into the bows. They drifted back in ones and twos to the greater comfort to be found aft as the ship, steaming along the weather side, came into view of the lagoon.

  “How lovely!” said Miss Flack to Mrs. Ginnell, as the skipper shouted orders and the noise of the screw suddenly ceased. “I suppose this little play the crew have got up for us will be ready soon?”

  “I hope so,” said Mrs. Ginnell. “I am longing to get ashore.”

  “So interesting to see the dear sailors trying to act,” murmured Miss Flack. “I thought Mr. Carstairs was looking rather worried this morning; perhaps it will cheer him up. But why weren’t we allowed to tell the men?”

  Mrs. Ginnell shook her head. “Don’t know, I’m sure,” she replied, with a puzzled air. “Mr. Pope said it was part of the play.”

  The voice of Captain Vobster was heard again from the bridge in a series of angry barks.

  “The captain seems rather cross about something,” said Lady Penrose, turning to Carstairs, with a smile. “I am feeling so excited.”

  “I am ashamed of myself,” said Carstairs gravely. “It’s a sorry trick for a man to play on a guest.”

  “Guest?” said Lady Penrose. “I don’t understand you.”

  “Tollhurst,” said Carstairs, raising his eyebrows.

  Lady Penrose laughed. “Why should you think so particularly of Captain Tollhurst?” she inquired. “It’s the same for him as the others. Suppose that Sir Edward or Mr. Knight or any of the others behave badly?”

  “By Jove!” said the other, aghast. “I never thought of that. I may make several enemies instead of one; I shall not have a friend left. You will have to be very good to me.”

  “I will — if your fears are justified,” she said, with a smile.

  “Tiny little place,” said Tollhurst, lounging up and gazing at the island. “However, it’ll be a change after the ship.”

  “I hope it is uninhabited,” said Lady Penrose.

  “Plenty of ns to look after you if it is not,” returned Tollhurst, with a smile, “but Talwyn and I have been inspecting it with our glasses, and I don’t think there is any doubt. Knight has been examining it, too. He seemed quite anxious about it. You’re not looking very well, Carstairs! Feel all right?”

  “Quite,” replied Carstairs, who had been nervously glancing along the deck. “Ready for anything,” he added desperately as he met Lady Penrose’s gaze.

  He looked idly at Mr. Biggs, who had come up from the engine-room and was standing on the top of the ladder drinking in big draughts of fresh air. With a final gulp Biggs disappeared, and a minute later a couple of firemen, grasping iron bars and grinning sheepishly, came up the ladder and went forward. A seaman passed.

  “What’s that chap doing with a pistol?” exclaimed Tollhurst, gazing after him.

  Carstairs swallowed, and shook his head as a low threatening murmur was heard forward. It died away as Captain Vobster began to speak, and then broke out again in increased volume.

  “What’s the matter?” inquired Peplow, coming up.

  “Seems to be a little argument,” replied Tollhurst. “Looks like trouble,” he added, as an extraordinary storm of hoots and groans broke out.

  “Get back to your work,” bellowed Vobster. “The first man that moves—”

  A couple of pistol-shots rang out, and his voice was drowned in a prolonged and ferocious roar. The ladies, partly amused and partly scared, clustered round Carstairs.

  “What on earth’s happening?” shouted Knight. “By Jove! they’ve got the mate down. Well done, Vobster! Well done!”

  “He’s down, too,” said Effie Blake, clasping her hands. “Oh!”

  The burly form of the skipper disappeared in the press. Lady Penrose gave a faint scream. “Captain Tollhurst, save us!” she implored, as a body of seamen, waving pistols and clubs, came surging towards them.

  “Save us!” echoed the Misses Blake and Seacombe.

  “Extraordinary!” murmured Tollhurst.

  He sprang forward, and with a heavy blow knocked the leading man off his feet, and snatching a pistol from the hand of the next gave him a smart rap over the head with it. The next moment he was down and lost to view in a squirming mass of legs and arms. A seaman, extricating himself from the scrum, paid a profane but heartfelt compliment to the captain’s teeth.

  The whole thing was so rapid that for a few moments nobody moved. Then Peplow, moving forward, fell headlong over the foot of the watchful doctor. Biggs, dashing up from the engine-room, received a blow on the head as per arrangement and subsided; Talwyn was held back by Knight.

  “No use,” said the latter, in a hurried whisper. “Keep quiet and bide your time.”

  He caught his breath as Tam, having finished with the skipper, came rushing aft. The boatswain was transfigured. His eyes were blazi
ng and his face contorted. A faint scream from Miss Flack paid tribute to his appearance.

  “Now, my lads!” he bawled, “smartly with it. Into the boat with him; we don’t want no owners aboard.”

  Before the astounded Carstairs could move he was seized by willing hands and forced to the side.

  “Here! What the devil are you doing?” he gasped.

  “Shove him in the boat and put him ashore,” roared the boatswain. “Lively with it now. And you can put this lady in to keep him company.”

  “Stop, you fools!” shouted Carstairs, struggling violently, as a couple of hands seized Lady Penrose and bore her after him.

  “How dare you?” she demanded wrathfully as they moved towards the boat. Her gaze fell on Captain Vobster, who, with a dirty cloth over his mouth and trussed like a fowl, was sitting with his back against the smoke-room. “Captain Vobster!” she cried. “Why don’t you stop them? Stop them at once!”

  “In with them,” cried Tarn, levelling a pistol at the little knot of amazed passengers. “If any man moves I’ll shoot him.”

  He stood until the couple were placed in the boat, and then, placing the pistol in his pocket, stepped forward and seizing Miss Mudge raised her in his arms. Miss Mudge, buffeting his face with one hand, seized a handful of hair with the other.

  “Easy, my dear,” cried the boatswain, his eyes watering. “‘Ere, not quite so much of it. Lor’ lumme, I wish I was coming with you!”

  He relinquished her with relief. The boat was lowered and pulled rapidly towards the shore. Tam, wiping his brow, stood considering.

  “Take the others below while I make up my mind what to do with them,” he said at last.

  He walked to the side and stood for some time watching the receding boat. Then he turned, and bending down with his hands on his knees gazed respectfully at the protruding eyes and purple cheeks of the trussed Vobster.

  “I ‘ope I done it as you wished, sir,” he said, with an uneasy wriggle. “No bloodshed, and everybody ‘appy and comfortable.”

  CHAPTER XIX

  BREATHING hard after a struggle which had ended in his landing on the island in a very uncomfortable fashion, Carstairs, with a face of blank amazement, stood watching the receding boat as it pulled across the still waters of the lagoon. He stood until it had passed the reef, and, reduced by distance to a mere speck, drew alongside the yacht. He turned to Lady Penrose and Miss Mudge, who stood behind.

  “I don’t know—” he began.

  “Look!” exclaimed the girl breathlessly. Carstairs looked seawards again, and, hardly able to believe his eyes, stood motionless as the ship, after picking up her boat, swung round and steamed away from the island. In a dazed fashion he turned and met the scornful gaze of Lady Penrose.

  “Did you—” he began.

  “I?” said Lady Penrose, with a gesture of impotent wrath. “I Oh, this is too much!”

  She turned and walked away, waving an imperious hand as he offered to follow. Somewhat crestfallen he came back and stood gazing at Miss Mudge, who, having made a comfortable place in the sand, was sitting in it indulging in the luxury of a good cry.

  “There, there,” he said uneasily, “don’t cry.”

  “Ca-can’t help it,” said the girl, between her sobs. “I’m frightened. Have we got to stay here all night?”

  Carstairs stooped and began to turn over a pile of stores that had been put out of the boat with them. “I don’t know what the arrangements are exactly,” he said, at length, “but it looks like it. Suppose you leave off crying and lend me a hand with this tent.”

  He began to drag the canvas higher up the beach, and Miss Mudge, after an aggressive sniff or two, wiped her eyes and followed with the pole. Twice the half-suffocated Carstairs had to extricate himself from folds of billowing canvas, but the tent was pitched at last and the stores moved into it. The generous quantity of goods provided did not lessen his uneasiness. There were things in tins, things in bottles, a fair-sized cask of water, and half a bag of ship’s biscuit. A large axe and other tools, a gun and a revolver, blankets, and crockery of the enamelled order completed the tale of their belongings.

  “Well, we sha’n’t starve,” he said, looking around.

  “We sha’n’t sleep,” said Miss Mudge, eyeing the blankets dolefully. “Not even a pillow. And what are we to sit on?”

  Carstairs, who was watching the distant figure of Lady Penrose proceeding slowly along the beach, made no reply. He turned and walked in the same direction, and, pausing irresolutely after a few steps, came back to the tent again.

  He filled his pipe and sat for a long time smoking. The ship had disappeared and there was nothing in sight seawards but the still, blue waters of the lagoon and the tumbling seas beyond the reef. A glance sideways showed him Lady Penrose sitting down a quarter of a mile away and also looking out over the water. It was evident that she found his company distasteful.

  “Better make some tea,” he said, rising and fetching a small spirit-stove from the tent. “You can tell Lady Penrose that I have gone to explore the island and shall not be back for some time.”

  He went off in the opposite direction, and, reaching the end of the atoll, turned and proceeded along the weather side. The wind there was fresh and strong and the sea thundered at his feet in great white breakers. With his binoculars he scanned the horizon in vain for any sign of the missing ship. Puzzled and perturbed, he continued on his way until, the desolation of the beach proving too much for him, he made his way across to the lagoon again.

  Lady Penrose and Mudge went off together as he approached the tent, but, all things considered, he made a very substantial meal. He lit his pipe again when it was finished, and then, feeling himself somewhat in the way, went off along the beach and, making himself a comfortable seat in the white coral sand, sat down to think things over.

  He came back to find the tent closed for the night. A blanket which had been thrown outside was evidently intended for his use, and somewhat touched by this sign of consideration for his welfare he hollowed out a bed in the sand and tried to arrange himself comfortably before the short twilight should disappear.

  He fell asleep after a long period of wakefulness only to start up at dawn with a violent attack of cramp. The inhabitants of the tent awoke two seconds later, and the inflection of their whispers testified to their annoyance. Three times in all did Carstairs hurriedly forsake his couch and hop up and down on a leg that was trying to tie itself into knots; and three times did the murmuring of the people within add to his discomfort. He rose at last just in time to forestall a fourth attack, and, making his way along the beach, stripped and waded into the lagoon.

  Miss Mudge got up an hour later, and after a cautious glance round went down to the water and returned with a well-filled bucket.

  “Has Mr. Carstairs gone?” inquired Lady Penrose from the interior of the tent.

  The answer being satisfactory, she came out, and after a soapless wash in salt water sat down for Mudge to attend to her hair.

  At the sound of a not very distant cough she sprang to her feet and, with her hair flying, disappeared hastily inside the tent.

  “I beg pardon,” said Carstairs, as Mudge stood regarding him with a hostile stare. “I’m sorry I disturbed Lady Penrose, but I have just found this little comb in my pocket. She may be glad of it.”

  “Mudge!” cried an imperious voice from the tent.

  The girl stooped and put her head inside. “My lady doesn’t require a comb, sir,” she said, returning.

  “Oh, all right. Sorry,” said Carstairs, pitching it in front of her.

  “My lady doesn’t require a comb, sir,” repeated Mudge, in severe accents.

  “Just so,” said Carstairs mildly. “Just so; but I suppose I can leave it in my — er — sleeping apartment if I wish? I shall not be back for some time.”

  He turned, and, keeping the fate of Lot’s wife well in mind, disappeared in the distance. Lady Penrose, after watching from the ten
t, came out and sat on the beach again.

  “I do hope there’ll be no savages, my lady,” said Miss Mudge, gazing helplessly at her mistress’s hair. “Every time I woke up in the night I was thinking of them.”

  “I prefer savages to some civilised people,” said Lady Penrose, glancing in the direction Carstairs had taken.

  “Yes, my lady,” said the girl dutifully, “but I’d like to see that Mr. Tarn again, that I would — I got some of his hair when he caught hold of me.”

  Lady Penrose sighed, and then, as the girl proceeded to use her fingers as a comb, uttered a sharp exclamation.

  “You are not doing Mr. Tam’s hair,” she said sharply. “Oh! You are hurting me! Don’t be so clumsy!”

  “I’m very sorry, my lady,” murmured the offender, “but your hair is so thick. And I’ve never seen it in such a tangle before.”

  “It’s never had such a pillow before,” was the reply. “O-oh! Oh!”

  “It’s the sand in it, I think,” said the girl, pausing. “If we’d only got a comb—”

  “Yes, but we have not.”

  “No, we have not,” said Miss Mudge, with a longing glance at Carstairs’ comb. She tightened her lips and attacked her task once more.

  “You are very clumsy,” said the victim, wincing.

  “Yes, my lady,” said the girl, with a doleful sniff.” It isn’t my fault. I’ll do hair with anybody, if I’ve only got the things to do it with. And I’m afraid your hair will be ruined for ever. It does seem a shame.”

  Lady Penrose looked grave. “Has Mr. Carstairs gone for a walk?” she inquired.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “A long walk?”

  “He said he shouldn’t be back for some time,” replied the girl.

  There was a long silence, at the end of which Lady Penrose gave a slight cough. Miss Mudge started, and stepping backwards in an unobtrusive fashion picked up the comb, and, still using the fingers of her left hand, began to use the comb with the right.

  After a few seconds she abandoned the use of fingers altogether.

  “You see, you can do it all right if you like,” said her mistress.