Suddenly her attention was attracted by the strident sound of a siren. Her eyes, bedewed with tears of impotent rage, turned once more to the imposing bulk which the outline of the Bahia revealed on the immobile mirror of these calm blue waters.
It was without a doubt the Bahia announcing her departure. It was the Bahia calling to her. Irene shouted aloud as though she could make the vessel hear. But the Bahia did not hear and the sound of her siren continued to call....
CHAPTER XI
“TIRED OF LIFE”
“TIRED OF LIFE and yet afraid to die.” — Verlaine.
SHE darted towards the deck-house into which the polite young officer, who held so firmly to his orders, had disappeared. She knew that sailors were sticklers for discipline, but there were times when a mere man might be influenced. To achieve such a result she would put forward all her powers as an actress. She was prompted to make the effort by the seriousness of her position and her natural impulse. Already she began to assume a picturesque disorder. Let him come and he would be unable to resist a dishevelled Irene who in an attitude of tragic abandonment would know how to make him forget all the orders in the world.
Alas, he must have suspected her, the monster, for he did not show himself. And the sailors emerged from the deck-house in which she looked for him, barring her path with their boisterous merriment.
The siren still continued to sound. It was now a poignant call, a desperate clamour. The Bahia could never have called like that before, nor Irene either, assuredly. She pictured to herself the scenes which were being enacted on board. No one could have remained indifferent. All were delighted to travel with Mademoiselle Irene de Troie. And she was not in the ship! They were about to sail without Mademoiselle Irene de Troie of the Comédie Française. The passengers, the company, Monsieur Hauptmann, the impresario, would obviously entreat the captain to postpone their departure. But sailors were slaves to orders!
And what was Sylvia’s state? — a maid whose devotion she was no longer entitled to doubt! Whatever might have been the result of the sacrifice which Irene had imposed on her, and its extent depended on Don Manoel’s sense of gallantry, she knew Sylvia well enough to picture her dismay — before which even the events of the night before would pale — confronted by this inexplicable calamity — her mistress’s absence.
But the Bahia sailed; and the motor-boat failed to return.... Three hours went by. Irene ceased to weep, ceased to shout. She was overwhelmed.
Nevertheless, as her common sense always gained the mastery in the end, she collected her thoughts while the sailors between decks continued their drinking song with its piercing refrain. She was convinced that there could be no question of an abduction. The first reason was simple enough. Ma Casa might have weighed anchor. The smart little vessel seemed in no hurry to sail, and her owner showed no undue haste to come on board. All things considered, the extraordinary blunder could be explained quite naturally as the result of a phrase imperfectly understood by an unintelligent sailor, and a too rigorous interpretation of his orders by an officer reluctant to undertake any personal responsibility in the muddle.
Nothing was to be done but to wait for the captain. Everything would be cleared up, and she would be free to find other means of reaching Montevideo. Hauptmann was more than ordinarily sharp, and when he received her telegram, he would make arrangements to postpone the first performance for a couple of days if such were necessary.
Ashamed of her weakness, she went into the little cabin, took a few sips of milk, drew a mirror from her vanity bag, tidied her hair, powdered her face, and passed her lip-stick over her lips. She came out mistress of herself, ready once more to control events.
As it happened, the motor-boat then hove in sight, making for Ma Casa at full speed, which boded well. She imagined that the sailor in charge had been vainly hunting for hours for his governor, finding him at last, and now that he was aware of the facts he was hastening to the rescue.
Leaning over the stern rail she descried a man standing up, waving his handkerchief to her. Who was he? He was dressed in white with gold stripes on sleeves and cap.
She first recognized him by his unusual stature, then by his manner of addressing her as “Most illustrious senhora” and finally by his face. It was Languequetrou himself, the king of the Patagonians!
She no longer knew what to think, but the boat having drawn alongside the gangway ladder, Languequetrou in two leaps stood beside her.
“Oh, most illustrious senhora, what an extraordinary thing, what an extraordinary thing! This man has told me all about it... I am so sorry — really sorry.”
He seemed indeed extremely concerned.
“I hope it is merely a most unfortunate misunderstanding,” she said dryly.
“Why, of course it is! Yes, assuredly, we may call it a most unfortunate misunderstanding. You see that I am extremely upset about it — extremely. And so are you, are you not? Don’t say that you are not. I see everything.”
“I don’t say that I am not,” returned Irene, still on the defensive.
“Well, I will do everything to set things right — everything possible. I will myself take you to Montevideo. I will take you on my ship — your ship. You are the mistress here. Everything is yours — ship, crew, officers and myself, senhora.” And he shouted in a stentorian voice, “Antonio!”
The young officer appeared and stood to attention.
“Antonio, give the necessary orders. We must sail at once. We’re going to Montevideo.”
“No,” said Irene. “We must overtake the Bahia as soon as possible.”
“As you please, senhora. Ma Casa is a fast boat, and the Bahia is bound to put into Santos. We will come up with her before she sails again, you may be sure.”
He seemed so distressed by the trouble and annoyance for which he was responsible that at last she held out her hand.
“I forgive you,” she said.
“You forgive me!” he cried. “My heart is overcome with joy. I would have paid untold gold for a misunderstanding which gives me the pleasure of your company a little while longer, senhora.”
The anchor was weighed — the ship began to move. The young officer, as he shouted an order, could not restrain a smile when he saw how quickly these two persons had come to an understanding, one of whom at least had reason to be annoyed with the other.
“I told you so, senhora,” he said as he passed Irene.
Languequetrou stopped him, bringing his hand down heavily on his shoulder.
“Has he behaved properly towards you?” he asked.
Had she hesitated in her answer he would probably have thrown the officer overboard.
“Oh, quite nicely,” she hastened to say. “But he is a bit shy. After sending the motorboat ashore he shut himself up in his cabin, and I didn’t see him again.”
That was her only revenge. They left the roadstead heading for Santos. Irene had no further cause to cherish any resentment against these good people. Luncheon, to which Antonio was invited, was a very lively function. Antonio could not keep his eyes off Irene, who exercised all her powers of fascination. Here was another man who would face death for her. As she forbore in general to ask this sacrifice, or any other for that matter, but declared herself satisfied with a mute adoration, she might be forgiven for regarding herself as without fault. But these poor men were deserving of pity!
When Antonio left the cabin Irene lit a cigarette and looking at Languequetrou out of the corner of her eye said:
“My dear prince, you haven’t told me yet how this happy misunderstanding came about, and I do not deny that, until I am better informed, I shall be inclined to believe that it was more due to you than you have yet admitted.”
“It was all my fault,” he said ingenuously.
“What became of the lady who was to accompany you?” she asked slyly.
“There was never any question of another lady.”
“Then, you will admit, you deserve every punishment?”
“Yes.”
“I ought never to have left Rio with you, and if you felt so keen to take me to Montevideo it would have been much easier to tell me so last night. And there would have been no need for all these subterfuges which I dislike.”
“Of course. But I couldn’t make the suggestion to you last night because my yacht only arrived here during the night. And you will see how simple the whole thing is in reality. Having learnt from my man of her arrival, I at once gave him orders to hold himself in readiness to sail again this morning. I said: ‘I am coming on board with a lady who was to sail on the Bahia but she will make the trip on Ma Casa. It is possible that she will arrive before me, in which case don’t keep her waiting but take her on board at once.’ I thought, in fact, that after letting you know this, I should still have certain business to transact in Rio. And I hoped that you wouldn’t refuse me the favour which I was about to ask you. Imagine, therefore, my vexation when I learnt on calling at your hotel this morning, that you were already on board the Bahia and your maid had joined you with your luggage. I went back to my place, where my presence was absolutely necessary, quite heart-broken, but resolved to make another attempt this morning. I intended to go on board the Bahia, but a messenger from Patagonia, who landed from the Puntas Arenas boat this morning, asked to see me at once. This most important interview kept me longer than I expected. Fortunately in the meantime I learnt from my man what had happened, and that you were on board my ship. You can imagine my delight...”
“Your delight!... Well, and what about your pretence of regret when you came on board?” she asked smilingly, for indeed everything was explained quite naturally.
“I can’t hide anything from you, senhora. It’s true. My heart was overjoyed at the sight of you, for this poor Languequetrou up to the last moment feared lest he should see on board another lady who might also have been waiting on the landing stage to join the Bahia.”
“You may, boast of giving me a great deal of anxiety.”
He kissed her hand like a faithful dog.
“Strike me,” he said.
Not only did she not strike him, but she did not at once withdraw her hand.
“My happiness would be complete, senhora,” he said with a sigh of extreme humility, “if you would allow me to take you, as I proposed, to Montevideo. Remember, you will arrive there before the Bahia. She is a big, heavily-laden vessel, which hugs the coast from Guiana to Buenos Ayres and touches at nearly every port. You would put in at such places as Santos, Paraguay, Laguna, Rio Grande do Sul, and what not. They cannot be of any interest to you, senhora.”
“Prince, you are like a big baby. What you ask is impossible. I can’t stay on your ship without clothes or linen or maid.”
“But we will call at Santos to pick up your maid and luggage, and in this way you will relieve everybody’s mind and reassure your impresario, who must be very anxious.”
“Of course that is one solution of the difficulty.”
“Remember, senhora, if you agree we shall have the time to spend a day in the sertao, and I shall be able to do the honours of my fazendo.”
“What is the sertao?”
“Do you mean to say you have never been in the sertao?... But that’s very strange.”
“Oh, prince, you tempt me. With your airs of a little bow-wow, you know, you make me do just as you please.”
When they arrived at Santos they discovered that the Bahia had just left the port.
“We will come up with her before the day is over,” said Languequetrou. “She had three hours start of us, and we missed her by very little.”
Indeed they soon sighted her on the skyline ahead of them. Ma Casa put on steam. Irene became easy in her mind. A sea as calm as a millpond, a pleasant passage, slaves at her feet, a charming cabin — she was able to enjoy a good sleep.
When they arrived off Paraguay, where the Bahia lay, Languequetrou made a new suggestion which she accepted as quite natural.
“Why disturb yourself, senhora? My captain or I, if you wish it, will go on board the Bahia with a letter from you to your maid, and bring her here with your luggage. You can also send word to your impresario.”
She went into the smoking-room and wrote a letter to Sylvia on Ma Casa notepaper, a handsome blue paper bearing a golden crown and the sun in the form of a shield pierced with two arrows, doubtless the Patagonian royal arms:
“MY DEAR SYLVIA, — You must be wondering what has happened to me. When I see you I will tell you the story of my adventure, which was the funniest thing imaginable. I am on board Ma Casa with the king of the Patagonians, who is wonderfully nice to me and carries out my every wish. Do the same as he does, and I shall continue to treat you as my friend, for I now look upon you as a friend. Come along with the officer who will bring you this letter, and don’t forget any part of the luggage. I am writing, by the same messenger, to Hauptmann, who must be in a sad state! But it has been through no fault of mine that I could not communicate with him, as I will explain to him. See you soon, my dear Sylvia. Yours,
“IRENE DE TROIE (of the Comédie Française).”
She gave the letter to Languequetrou, who put it in his pocket, thanking her effusively.
“Wait a moment,” she said. “I must also write to my impresario.”
“At your service,” he answered, bowing, and went for a turn on the bridge.
She was still writing when Antonio came into the smoking-room.
“Are you glad you’re going to take me to Montevideo?” she asked.
“I should like to take you round the world for the rest of my life,” he said, gazing at her with sentimental tenderness.
“That would be delightful on board the Ma Casa,” she returned politely.
“Oh, we are well provided with everything on board Ma Casa. In fact we had plenty of time to take in stores at Rio.”
“But you arrived during the night,” she said.
“Yes, but we lay there a week.”
“How do you mean?” she cried in amazement. “When I came on board had you been in Rio a week?”
“A full week, senhora.”
So Languequetrou had lied in declaring that Ma Casa had only just arrived at Rio, and it was impossible to suggest a trip in her sooner. She began to think things out while writing to Hauptmann. Seeing her thus occupied Antonio discreetly withdrew. And she tore up the letter which she was writing to the impresario. Just then Languequetrou came in and saw the pieces of paper.
“You find it rather difficult to explain your little frolic to Monsieur Hauptmann,” he said, smiling.
“Yes,” she admitted, “I have thought it over. It would be better for me to see him myself.
Afterwards we would continue this delightful trip, and I should be easy in my mind.”
“As you please, senhora,” he said, without moving a muscle of his face; and he went on deck.
Some minutes later, as she was congratulating herself on her craft, and getting ready to leave the ship, she remembered that Languequetrou still had in his pocket her letter to Sylvia. She went on deck to him.
“That letter which I gave you is now unnecessary. Will you give it back to me?”
“I have handed it to Antonio to take to the Bahia.”
“Do you mind asking him for it?”
“I will not fail to do so, senhora.”
“In fact, I will ask him myself. Is he to take me to the Bahia?”
“No, senhora.”
“Then you will?”
“No, senhora.”
“Who is going to take me to the Bahia?”
“No one, senhora.”
At that moment a slight vibration swept through the smart little yacht. It was the throb of the propeller churning the sea. And Ma Casa began to glide over the waters.
‘“What! Are we starting?” exclaimed Irene. “Yes, senhora. You have no further confidence in me. I have no further confidence in you. You would not have returned to Ma Casa.”
; “Oh, this is really too much,” she cried. “You will be good enough to give the order to stop at once. Do you realize, monsieur, that what you have done is unworthy of a gentleman?”
“Languequetrou is not a gentleman since he is unworthy of the senhora’s confidence.”
“But you are kidnapping me. This time you are kidnapping me. Take time to think! The consequences may be serious.”
“I am kidnapping you,” he said. “I am carrying you off as far as Montevideo. It is a crime, I know, but if you must kill me, don’t kill me, senhora, until we get there. Languequetrou will have spent a few more hours in the senhora’s company.”
As he spoke his eyes assumed their inscrutable expression. He had become Sad Heart.
Irene gazed at him with considerable disquiet, and then left him, raging within herself. She was conscious that any entreaties to be allowed to join the Bahia would be futile. She locked herself in her cabin, and sent word that she did not need any dinner. At nightfall she mounted the deck for a moment and encountered Antonio.
“What your governor has done is beyond the limits of a practical joke. One does not behave in this way to a woman like me. Your governor is a savage. You can tell him so from me. He has forfeited all my esteem. When shall we get to Montevideo?”
“That depends on how long you stay at the fazendo,” returned the officer sadly.
“I don’t intend to go to the fazendo. Tell him so from me. Don’t forget.... By the way, give me back my letter.”
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 441