Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated)

by William Somerset Maugham

  ‘I’ve just seen a native messenger that Mindabi sent me.’

  ‘Anything important?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Alec’s answer was so curt that it was impossible to question him further. He turned to Walker.

  ‘How’s the arm?’

  ‘Oh, that’s nothing. It’s only a scratch.’

  ‘You’d better not make too light of it. The smallest wound has a way of being troublesome in this country.’

  ‘He’ll be all right in a day or two,’ said the doctor.

  Alec sat down. For a minute he did not speak, but seemed plunged in thought. He passed his fingers through his beard, ragged now and longer than when he was in England.

  ‘How are the others?’ he asked suddenly, looking at Adamson.

  ‘I don’t think Thompson can last till the morning.’

  ‘I’ve just been in to see him.’

  Thompson was the man who had been shot through the head and had lain unconscious since the day before. He was an old gold-prospector, who had thrown in his lot with the expedition against the slavers.

  ‘Perkins of course will be down for several days longer. And some of the natives are rather badly hurt. Those devils have got explosive bullets.’

  ‘Is there anyone in great danger?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. There are two men who are in a bad way, but I think they’ll pull through with rest.’

  ‘I see,’ said Alec, laconically.

  He stared intently at the table, absently passing his hand across the gun which Walker had left there.

  ‘I say, have you had anything to eat lately?’ asked Walker, presently.

  Alec shook himself out of his meditation and gave the young man one of his rare, bright smiles. It was plain that he made an effort to be gay.

  ‘Good Lord, I quite forgot; I wonder when the dickens I had some food last. These Arabs have been keeping us so confoundedly busy.’

  ‘I don’t believe you’ve had anything to-day. You must be devilish hungry.’

  ‘Now you mention it, I think I am,’ answered Alec, cheerfully. ‘And thirsty, by Jove! I wouldn’t give my thirst for an elephant tusk.’

  ‘And to think there’s nothing but tepid water to drink!’ Walker exclaimed with a laugh.

  ‘I’ll go and tell the boy to bring you some food,’ said the doctor. ‘It’s a rotten game to play tricks with your digestion like that.’

  ‘Stern man, the doctor, isn’t he?’ said Alec, with twinkling eyes. ‘It won’t hurt me once in a way, and I shall enjoy it all the more now.’

  But when Adamson went to call the boy, Alec stopped him.

  ‘Don’t trouble. The poor devil’s half dead with exhaustion. I told him he might sleep till I called him. I don’t want much, and I can easily get it myself.’

  Alec looked about and presently found a tin of meat and some ship biscuits. During the fighting it had been impossible to go out on the search for game, and there was neither variety nor plenty about their larder. Alec placed the food before him, sat down, and began to eat. Walker looked at him.

  ‘Appetising, isn’t it?’ he said ironically.

  ‘Splendid!’

  ‘No wonder you get on so well with the natives. You have all the instincts of the primeval savage. You take food for the gross and bestial purpose of appeasing your hunger, and I don’t believe you have the least appreciation for the delicacies of eating as a fine art.’

  ‘The meat’s getting rather mouldy,’ answered Alec.

  He ate notwithstanding with a good appetite. His thoughts went suddenly to Dick who at the hour which corresponded with that which now passed in Africa, was getting ready for one of the pleasant little dinners at the Carlton upon which he prided himself. And then he thought of the noisy bustle of Piccadilly at night, the carriages and ‘buses that streamed to and fro, the crowded pavements, the gaiety of the lights.

  ‘I don’t know how we’re going to feed everyone to-morrow,’ said Walker. ‘Things will be going pretty bad if we can’t get some grain in from somewhere.’

  Alec pushed back his plate.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about to-morrow’s dinner if I were you,’ he said, with a low laugh.

  ‘Why?’ asked Walker.

  ‘Because I think it’s ten to one that we shall be as dead as doornails before sunrise.’

  The two men stared at him silently. Outside, the wind howled grimly, and the rain swept against the side of the tent.

  ‘Is this one of your little jokes, MacKenzie?’ said Walker at last.

  ‘You have often observed that I joke with difficulty.’

  ‘But what’s wrong now?’ asked the doctor quickly.

  Alec looked at him and chuckled quietly.

  ‘You’ll neither of you sleep in your beds to-night. Another sell for the mosquitoes, isn’t it? I propose to break up the camp and start marching in an hour.’

  ‘I say, it’s a bit thick after a day like this,’ said Walker. ‘We’re all so done up that we shan’t be able to go a mile.’

  ‘You will have had two hours rest.’

  Adamson rose heavily to his feet. He meditated for an appreciable time.

  ‘Some of those fellows who are wounded can’t possibly be moved,’ he said.

  ‘They must.’

  ‘I won’t answer for their lives.’

  ‘We must take the risk. Our only chance is to make a bold dash for it, and we can’t leave the wounded here.’

  ‘I suppose there’s going to be a deuce of a row,’ said Walker.

  ‘There is.’

  ‘Your companions seldom have a chance to complain of the monotony of their existence,’ said Walker, grimly. ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘At this moment I’m going to fill my pipe.’

  With a whimsical smile, Alec took his pipe from his pocket, knocked it out on his heel, filled and lit it. The doctor and Walker digested the information he had given them. It was Walker who spoke first.

  ‘I gather from the general amiability of your demeanour that we’re in rather a tight place.’

  ‘Tighter than any of your patent-leather boots, my friend.’

  Walker moved uncomfortably in his chair. He no longer felt sleepy. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

  ‘Have we any chance of getting through?’ he asked gravely.

  It seemed to him that Alec paused an unconscionable time before he answered.

  ‘There’s always a chance,’ he said.

  ‘I suppose we’re going to do a bit more fighting?’

  ‘We are.’

  Walker yawned loudly.

  ‘Well, at all events there’s some comfort in that. If I am going to be done out of my night’s rest, I should like to take it out of someone.’

  Alec looked at him with approval. That was the frame of mind that pleased him. When he spoke again there was in his voice a peculiar charm that perhaps in part accounted for the power he had over his fellows. It inspired an extraordinary belief in him, so that anyone would have followed him cheerfully to certain death. And though his words were few and bald, he was so unaccustomed to take others into his confidence, that when he did so, ever so little, and in that tone, it seemed that he was putting his hearers under a singular obligation.

  ‘If things turn out all right, we shall come near finishing the job, and there won’t be much more slave-trading in this part of Africa.’

  ‘And if things don’t turn out all right?’

  ‘Why then, I’m afraid the tea tables of Mayfair will be deprived of your scintillating repartee for ever.’

  Walker looked down at the ground. Strange thoughts ran through his head, and when he looked up again, with a shrug of the shoulders, there was a queer look in his eyes.

  ‘Well, I’ve not had a bad time in my life,’ he said slowly. ‘I’ve loved a little, and I’ve worked and played. I’ve heard some decent music, I’ve looked at nice pictures, and I’ve read some thundering fine books. If I can only account for a f
ew more of those damned scoundrels before I die, I shouldn’t think I had much to complain of.’

  Alec smiled, but did not answer. A silence fell upon them. Walker’s words brought to Alec the recollection of what had caused the trouble which now threatened them, and his lips tightened. A dark frown settled between his eyes.

  ‘Well, I suppose I’d better go and get things straight,’ said the doctor. ‘I’ll do what I can with those fellows and trust to Providence that they’ll stand the jolting.’

  ‘What about Perkins?’ asked Alec.

  ‘Lord knows! I’ll try and keep him quiet with choral.’

  ‘You needn’t say anything about our striking camp. I don’t propose that anyone should know till a quarter of an hour before we start.’

  ‘But that won’t give them time.’

  ‘I’ve trained them often enough to get on the march quickly,’ answered Alec, with a curtness that allowed no rejoinder.

  The doctor turned to go, and at the same moment George Allerton appeared.

  XI

  George Allerton had changed since he left England. The flesh had fallen away from his bones, and his face was sallow. He had not stood the climate well. His expression had changed too, for there was a singular querulousness about his mouth, and his eyes were shifty and cunning. He had lost his good looks.

  ‘Can I come in?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ answered Alec, and then turning to the doctor: ‘You might stay a moment, will you?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  Adamson stood where he was, with his back to the flap that closed the tent. Alec looked up quickly.

  ‘Didn’t Selim tell you I wanted to speak to you?’

  ‘That’s why I’ve come,’ answered George.

  ‘You’ve taken your time about it.’

  ‘I say, could you give me a drink of brandy? I’m awfully done up.’

  ‘There’s no brandy left,’ answered Alec.

  ‘Hasn’t the doctor got some?’

  ‘No.’

  There was a long pause. Adamson and Walker did not know what was the matter; but they saw that there was something serious. They had never seen Alec so cold, and the doctor, who knew him well, saw that he was very angry. Alec lifted his eyes again and looked at George slowly.

  ‘Do you know anything about the death of that Turkana woman?’ he asked abruptly.

  George did not answer immediately.

  ‘No. How should I?’ he said presently.

  ‘Come now, you must know something about it. Last Tuesday you came into camp and said the Turkana were very much excited.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember,’ answered George, unwillingly

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I’m not very clear about it. The woman had been shot, hadn’t she? One of the station boys had been playing the fool with her, and he seems to have shot her.’

  ‘Have you made no attempt to find out which of the station boys it was?’

  ‘I haven’t had time,’ said George, in a surly way. ‘We’ve all been worked off our legs during the last three days.’

  ‘Do you suspect no one?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Think a moment.’

  ‘The only man who might have done it is that big scoundrel we got on the coast, the Swahili beggar with one ear.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘He’s been making an awful nuisance of himself, and I know he’s been running after the women.’

  Alec did not take his eyes off George. Walker saw what was coming and looked down at the ground.

  ‘You’ll be surprised to hear that when the woman was found she wasn’t dead.’

  George did not move, but his cheeks became if possible more haggard. He was horribly frightened.

  ‘She didn’t die for nearly an hour.’

  There was a very short silence. It seemed to George that they must hear the furious beating of his heart.

  ‘Was she able to say anything?’

  ‘She said you’d shot her,’

  ‘What a damned lie!’

  ‘It appears that you were — playing the fool with her. I don’t know why you quarrelled. You took out your revolver and fired point blank.’

  George laughed.

  ‘It’s just like these beastly niggers to tell a stupid lie like that. You wouldn’t believe them rather than me, would you? After all, my word’s worth more than theirs.’

  Alec quietly took from his pocket the case of an exploded cartridge. It could only have fitted a revolver.

  ‘This was found about two yards from the body and was brought to me this evening.’

  ‘I don’t know what that proves.’

  ‘You know just as well as I do that none of the natives has a revolver. Beside ourselves only one or two of the servants have them.’

  George took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. His throat was horribly dry, and he could hardly breathe.

  ‘Will you give me your revolver,’ said Alec, quietly.

  ‘I haven’t got it. I lost it this afternoon when we made that sortie. I didn’t tell you as I thought you’d get in a wax about it.’

  ‘I saw you cleaning it less than an hour ago,’ said Alec, gravely.

  George shrugged his shoulders pettishly.

  ‘Perhaps it’s in my tent. I’ll go and see.’

  ‘Stop here,’ said Alec sharply.

  ‘Look here, I’m not going to be ordered about like a dog. You’ve got no right to talk to me like that. I came out here of my own free will, and I won’t let you treat me like a damned nigger.’

  ‘If you put your hand to your hip-pocket I think you’ll find your revolver there.’

  ‘I’m not going to give it you,’ said George, his lips white with fear.

  ‘Do you want me to come and take if from you myself?’

  The two men stared at one another for a moment. Then George slowly put his hand to his pocket and took out the revolver. But a sudden impulse seized him. He raised it, quickly aimed at Alec, and fired. Walker was standing near him, and seeing the movement, instinctively beat up the boy’s hand as pulled the trigger. In a moment the doctor had sprung forward and seizing him round the waist, thrown him backwards. The revolver fell from his hand. Alec had not moved.

  ‘Let me go, damn you!’ cried George, his voice shrill with rage.

  ‘You need not hold him,’ said Alec.

  It was second nature with them all to perform Alec’s commands, and without thinking twice they dropped their hands. George sank cowering into a chair. Walker, bending down, picked up the revolver and gave it to Alec, who silently fitted into an empty chamber the cartridge that had been brought to him.

  ‘You see that it fits,’ he said. ‘Hadn’t you better make a clean breast of it?’

  George was utterly cowed. A sob broke from him.

  ‘Yes, I shot her,’ he said brokenly. ‘She made a row and the devil got into me. I didn’t know what I’d done till she screamed and I saw the blood.’

  He cursed himself for being such a fool as to throw the cartridge away. His first thought had been to have all the chambers filled.

  ‘Do you remember that two months ago I hanged a man to the nearest tree because he’d murdered one of the natives?’

  George sprang up in terror, and he began to tremble.

  ‘You wouldn’t do that to me.’

  A wild prayer went up in his heart that mercy might be shown him, and then bitter anger seized him because he had ever come out to that country.

  ‘You need not be afraid,’ answered Alec coldly. ‘In any case I must preserve the native respect for the white man.’

  ‘I was half drunk when I saw the woman. I wasn’t responsible for my actions.’

  ‘In any case the result is that the whole tribe has turned against us.’

  The chief was Alec’s friend, and it was he who had sent him the exploded cartridge. The news came to Alec like a thunderclap, for the Turkana were the best part of
his fighting force, and he had always placed the utmost reliance on their fidelity. The chief said that he could not hold in his young men, and not only must Alec cease to count upon them, but they would probably insist on attacking him openly. They had stirred up the neighbouring tribes against him and entered into communication with the Arabs. He had been just at the turning point and on the verge of a great success, but now all that had been done during three years was frustrated. The Arabs had seized the opportunity and suddenly assumed the offensive. The unexpectedness of their attack had nearly proved fatal to Alec’s party, and since then they had all had to fight for bare life.

  George watched Alec as he stared at the ground.

  ‘I suppose the whole damned thing’s my fault,’ he muttered.

  Alec did not answer directly.

  ‘I think we may take it for certain that the natives will go over to the slavers to-morrow, and then we shall be attacked on all sides. We can’t hold out against God knows how many thousands. I’ve sent Rogers and Deacon to bring in all the Latukas, but heaven knows if they can arrive in time.’

  ‘And if they don’t?’

  Alec shrugged his shoulders, but did not speak. George’s breathing came hurriedly, and a sob rose to his throat.

  ‘What are you going to do to me, Alec?’

  MacKenzie walked up and down, thinking of the gravity of their position. In a moment he stopped and looked at Walker.

  ‘I daresay you have some preparations to make,’ he said.

  Walker got up.

  ‘I’ll be off,’ he answered, with a slight smile.

  He was glad to go, for it made him ashamed to watch the boy’s humiliation. His own nature was so honest, his loyalty so unbending, that the sight of viciousness affected him with a physical repulsion, and he turned away from it as he would have done from the sight of some hideous ulcer. The doctor surmised that his presence too was undesired. Murmuring that he had no time to lose if he wanted to get his patients ready for a night march, he followed Walker out of the tent. George breathed more freely when he was alone with Alec.

  ‘I’m sorry I did that silly thing just now,’ he said. ‘I’m glad I didn’t hit you.’