Cornelius Houten's trading post was no longer a place of commonplace
commerce. With the return of the injured men, the dim, cool main hut was
transformed into a quiet hospital, in which two sore and weary men were
ministered to by two gentle, capable nurses. There was something
amazingly mysterious in the swift change; for Barry and Little were
carried inside, placed on ready cots, and soothed with cooling unguents
without a moment's delay, as if they had been expected in just such a
fashion ever since their advent on the river.
Mrs. Goring came in without the least visible surprise and with her
usual sweet smile, her low voice was that of a woman intent on a
customary duty; she directed Natalie Sheldon in the work and received
her unquestioning obedience. When the side of the hut was raised to
admit the afternoon sunlight, Little sought Barry's eyes with whimsical
wonder, and the skipper shook his head painfully and growled back:
"Oh, what's the use! May as well hold tight and give the cure a chance.
No good asking me what I think of it all. I give it up. No good at
conundrums!"
The last words drawled out, and Barry fell asleep. Then Natalie bent
over him, drew a mosquito curtain around his head, and gazed down at him
with a soft, uncertain light in her luminous eyes. Mrs. Goring watched
from a dark corner, and when the girl moved away from Barry's cot and
approached Little, the older woman smiled with great sympathy and went
quietly out.
The ex-salesman watched too; and his eyes twinkled when Natalie bent
that searching look upon Barry. He noted with a grin her tender little
touches at the skipper's couch and settled himself complacently in
expectation of similar attention. His eyes closed, and he folded his
hands placidly over his chest as Natalie stepped to his side, and then
he peeped slyly at her, ready to give her some characteristically
humorous greeting.
But to his discomfiture he saw tears brimming her eyes, and the small
hand that drew his curtains trembled piteously. Tom Little lost all his
humor and lay quite still until she turned away. Then, with a sob, she
ran outside after Mrs. Goring, and so unsettled by her trouble was
Little that the sleep which should have placed him on the road to
recovery utterly deserted him, and the heat became suddenly oppressive.
So he tossed and writhed through the hours, while Barry slumbered
peacefully and breathed in new strength. Little was aware of a subtle
drone and hum all around the place; he placed it to the further credit
of pestiferous insects and cursed them dully. From the river crept in a
rank odor of musk and mud that mingled with the sleepy sounds to lull
him, yet his brain refused to rest. He sweat and twisted in the depths
of dire discomfort.
Wondering how many hours went to a Celebes minute, how many ages into an
hour, he was suddenly aware of a silent figure that crept into the hut
and sat on a low stool beside the medicine chest. It was a man, shod,
therefore a white man; and some vaguely familiar, yet utterly strange
gesture gave Little a hint of his identity.
"Gordon!" he whispered, and the man sprang up with a muffled exclamation
of annoyance.
"It is Gordon, isn't it?" whispered Little, welcoming any break to the
awful monotony, doubly glad that it was Gordon who made the break. "I
can't sleep, old chap. Come and chat, there's a good sport."
"I'll give you a draft to help you sleep," muttered Gordon, searching
out a bottle. Little noticed even in the poor light that this was a
different Gordon from the shattered wreck he had first seen. There was
no tremor, no uncertainty, in the fingers that unstoppered a small
bottle and poured out a draft; when the man leaned over him, drawing
aside the curtains, the eyes that looked down at Little were bright and
clear, true windows of a healthy soul.
"Drink this and try to sleep," urged Gordon gently. "I ought not to talk
to you at all, you know. You're a pretty sick man, Little, and I'm only
convalescent yet. Come, drink it; it's harmless and very efficacious."
"I'll swallow that stuff if you'll talk to me a bit, Gordon," Little
bargained. "Unless it's powerful dope, it won't make me sleep. I simply
can't sleep."
"Drink it then, and I'll chat with you until you drop off," replied
Gordon, and his tone revealed uneasiness. He pressed the glass into
Little's fingers and repeated, "Drink it."
Little gulped the stuff down, and a glad warmth shot through his veins,
soothing him, to his surprise. He returned the glass and grinned up at
Gordon. Already the heat seemed less oppressive, the outside sounds more
lulling.
"That's fine stuff, Gordon. Some class to our hospital. Glad to see
you've benefited by it too. But when do our fair nurses come on duty
again?" His eyes drooped, and Gordon regarded him with a smile of
understanding.
"Oh, very soon, very soon, Little. I'm only lending a hand while they
attend to your crew. You were supposed to be asleep, or I would not have
come inside. Now sleep, man, sleep. When you wake up, one of the ladies
will be here."
Gordon gazed into Little's dulling eyes, and as he watched, his head was
bent alertly as if to catch outside sounds. Voices were heard
approaching, and Gordon started with faint alarm as Little's eyes opened
wide. The next minute a peaceful grin overspread the sufferer's face,
the wide eyes closed, and Little fell into a deep, healing sleep.
And into the hut stepped Vandersee, silent as a great cat, and with him
two other men in uniform,--naval uniform and legitimate this time. A
silent question was flashed at Gordon, and he nodded relievedly; then
Vandersee stepped over and peered at Barry, giving a deft and tender
touch here and there to displaced bandages. For a long moment the big
Hollander regarded the sleeping skipper, then moved over to Little's cot
and repeated the scrutiny. His blond face was soft and serious, his
large round eyes glowed with pity. He turned at length to his
companions, and they saluted him with deep respect.
"This would be only well repaid if we permitted Captain Barry to fix the
payment," he murmured to them. "Such fiendish barbarity deserves payment
in kind; and if it were only an official matter, gentlemen, I would
gladly send you and your men away and stand by while settlement was
made. As it is, I cannot permit these men to rob me of Leyden. That foul
devil is mine by all the laws of God and Justice."
Gordon stood by, his gaze fixed full on Vandersee, his face alight with
the fervor of high hope. When the Hollander paused, Gordon moistened his
lips and whispered:
"Mine too, Hendrik! Can't you let me do this? I'm fit now, a man again.
Let him be mine."
Vandersee smiled back, compassionately and understandingly, and laid a
tremendous hand on Gordon's shoulder.
"I know, old fellow, I know," he said. "Nobody knows as I do. But half
of our vengeance would be defeated should anything happen to you. No.
This is mine, Gordon, and--"
Barry stirred, and Vandersee stopped speaking; shooting a hurried look
at the skipper and then motioning to the others to follow, he went
swiftly out of the hut. Gordon remained and stared full into the
wide-open eyes of Barry.
"What was Vandersee doing here?" demanded Barry, not yet distinguishing
Gordon's face.
"You've been dreaming, skipper," returned Gordon, busying himself with
fresh bandages to avoid facing Barry for a moment.
"Dreaming my aunt!"
"I think you have," insisted Gordon, and now he came to the cot and
began to remove Barry's bandages. "Let me renew your dressings."
"Oh, it's you, is it, Gordon?" exclaimed Barry, now wide awake, if he
had been dreaming before. "Then you'll tell me the truth, won't you? If
that wasn't Vandersee I saw a moment ago, and two naval officers with
him, my brain's cracked, that's all."
"Not cracked, Captain. That's the effect of the medicine you've taken.
No doubt Mr. Little will have some queer notions, too, when he wakes
up. It's better for you to throw out all these notions as soon as they
form. They only hinder your recovery. Now let me fix you up."
"Not one damned bandage! If I'm to be treated like a baby, I'll act like
one. Let Miss Sheldon do it. She won't lie, anyhow."
Gordon laid down his dressings and left the hut without a reply. And
Barry lay there, fuming, sore, and sick, waiting for the nurse who never
appeared. Hours seemed to pass; certainly one hour had gone; then it was
Mrs. Goring who came in, swiftly hiding a troubled expression beneath a
sunny smile of greeting.
"I'll have to inflict myself on you, Captain," she said, deftly removing
his bandages, in spite of his petulant objections. "Miss Sheldon has not
yet returned," she went on. "She visited your men, you know. She will
come to you as soon as possible, for she considers you her own private
patient."
Mrs. Goring beamed kindly upon him, and the skipper's irritation passed
under her sympathetic touch.
"Tell me," he begged cajolingly, "wasn't that Vandersee in here awhile
ago?"
"Oh, he's been here many times, Captain," smiled back Mrs. Goring.
"Yes, yes, I know. I mean while Gordon was here with us."
"Why, didn't you ask him?"
"Oh, tell me, or say you won't," Barry burst out angrily. "Of course I
asked him. He said not. Gordon's a liar!"
"S-sh!" she soothed, laying a cool hand on Barry's heated forehead. He
failed to catch the look of pain his words brought into her eyes, or he
must have cringed with shame. "This is not like you, Captain Barry, to
say such things behind one's back."
"I beg your pardon," mumbled the skipper humbly. And he relapsed into
sullen silence, feigning sleep again simply to escape her steady gaze.
She watched him awhile, then giving an inquiring glance at Little,
adjusting his curtains and pillow, she left the room, and silence once
more settled down that lasted until Little emerged from his drugged
sleep and sat up with a noisy yawn.
"Say, Barry; what did you dream about?" he cried, rubbing his eyes
furiously as if to clear cobwebs from his brain. "Did you have any dope
in your physic?"
"I don't know," growled the skipper. "I know I saw Vandersee here, the
moment I woke up, with some sailors, and they tell me I dreamed it!"
"Oh, then, it's all right," replied Little carelessly. "You must have
had the same dope. I dreamed they were here just as I dropped off to
sleep. Was Gordon with you, too?"
"He was, and he was no dream!"
"That's right, too. He gave me some dope that made me sleep like an
infant. I suppose it's the poison of those ants that makes us imagine
creepy things."
"By Godfrey, I don't imagine anything!" cried Barry, and he tore down
his curtains and leaped to the floor. "I'm going to dress and put an end
to this Hobson-Jobson flummery!" He tottered, clawed wildly at the air,
and pitched headlong beside Little's cot.
"There! It's the poison," moaned Little, squirming out of his bed and
trying to lift his friend up. Then his own world spun around him, and he
fell beside Barry, every inch of ant-bitten skin a blazing patch of
torture.
Mrs. Goring and Natalie, entering together five minutes later, found
them there; and all the good already accomplished had to be done over.
It was two days now before the patients were able to recognize their
nurses; but when recognition came, at least one of the women sighed
thankfully to notice that Barry no longer harped upon naval officers and
Vandersee. His relapse seemed to have driven all earlier ideas from his
head; his bodily weakness was so intense that Mrs. Goring found him a
babe in her hands, and Natalie could scarcely tend him for the weakness
that attacked her at sight of him.
But the day came when he and Little were permitted to walk, and then the
stockade formed their promenade ground. With a nurse for each, their
convalescence could have been no more agreeable in the midst of
civilization. And as Barry gained strength, yet before Jerry Rolfe was
allowed in to worry him about the ship, he found himself and Natalie,
Little and Mrs. Goring, pairing off in their slow rambles, and once more
awkwardness of speech descended upon him like a wet blanket. He had
caught a suggestive look on Little's face, and an answering smile on
Mrs. Goring's, that told him as plainly as words that his opportunity
was thus given to him.
So, while his heart burst with sentiment, and his arms ached to take
Natalie in them, his tongue declined its office and left him a gaping,
speechless sailor. Natalie did not help him either; for as his
awkwardness increased, he sensed at first, then saw, that she was
consumed with some powerful emotion that certainly was not love for him.
Then he surprised her regarding him with fixed attention, when he had
turned away to gather a flower for her hair; and in a flash he saw what
her emotion was. It was dull, rankling uncertainty, and all the lover
fled from him, leaving only the keen sailor with a keen sailor's sense.
"Miss Sheldon, I was just going to call you Natalie and tell you
something very near to my heart," he blurted out. "I'm going to forget
that, now, and wait until you get what's troubling you off your mind."
"Why, Captain Barry!" she cried, blushing furiously, "whatever do you
mean? There is nothing troubling me, except the trouble that has come
upon this peaceful little station."
"I beg your pardon, but there is," persisted Barry bluntly. "You still
doubt me and my business and feel that I have painted Leyden black out
of spite. Now, if Vandersee and Mrs. Goring and the rest can't convince
you, I'm going to let you see it for yourself when the time comes. Let
me tell you one thing, though; if Leyden were on the square, he'd be
down at his ship seeing about getting her out of this hole. You don't
see him around, do you?"
"No!" the girl cried hotly. "Of course we don't. What is the use of Mr.
Leyden staying here when your ship blocks him in? He told me he was
going to the other side of the island for official help."
"Official help!" gasped Barry, peering hard into the girl's eyes, in
amazement at her utter belief. "He told you! Why, he can get all the
official help right here, any time Vandersee's around. He don't dare,
though. What did he sink my ship for?"
"He would dare, I know, if Mr. Vandersee's friends were true sailors.
Mr. Leyden has told me repeatedly that those naval seamen are false; and
since Mr. Vandersee disappeared a few days ago, never inquiring into the
matter of these two ships in the river, I'm inclined to believe him,
though I was almost persuaded that you were right and he was wrong."
"But my ship! He sunk her, didn't he?"
"I don't believe he did, Captain Barry," returned Natalie simply.
"Whether you know it or not, and I'd rather think you did not, I believe
somebody in your own crew sank your ship simply to annoy Mr. Leyden."
The skipper panted heavily, almost choked by his rising spleen,
tottering shakily, as temper battled with imperfect recovery of
strength. His lips opened and remained open, speechless; and his face
grew purple, then white, until Miss Sheldon cast off her own trouble and
saw in him only a patient needing the tenderest care. She assisted him
back to the hut and saw him safely on his cot; then he was given a
strong sleeping draft and slept clear through the night, awaking with
clearer head and a determination to say no more to Natalie until things
had straightened themselves out.
In the morning Mrs. Goring entered hurriedly and her first words were:
"Captain Barry, Miss Sheldon's disappeared! Gone utterly!"