THE PLAGUE IS ANNOUNCED
The next morning, a steamship flying the English flag came to anchor off
Aratat, delivered and received mail bags, and after an hour's stay
steamed away in the drift of the southeast trade winds, Bombay to Cape
Colony. The men at the château gazed longingly, helplessly through their
glasses at this black hulled visitor from the world they loved; they
watched it until nothing was left to be seen except the faint cloud of
smoke that went to a pin point in the horizon. There had been absolutely
no opportunity to communicate with the officers of the ship; they sailed
away hurriedly, as if in alarm. Their haste was significant.
"I guess we'd better not tell the women," said Bobby Browne, heaving a
deep sigh. "It won't add to their cheerfulness if they hear that a ship
has called here."
"It couldn't matter in any event," said Deppingham. "We've got to stick
here two weeks longer, no matter how many ships call. I'm demmed if I'll
funk now, after all these rotten months."
"Perhaps Bowles succeeded in getting a word with the officer who came
ashore," said Browne hopefully. "He knows the danger we are in."
"My dear Browne, Bowles hadn't the ghost of a chance to communicate with
the ship," said Chase. "He can't bully 'em any longer with his Tommy
Atkins coat. They've outgrown it, just as he has. It was splendid while
it lasted, but they're no more afraid of it now than they are of my
warships. I wish there was some way to get him and his English
assistants into the château. It's awful to think of what is coming to
them, sooner or later."
"Good God, Chase, is there no way to help them?" groaned Deppingham.
"I'll never forget poor Bowles, the first time I saw him in his dinky
red jacket and that Hooligan cap of his," reflected Chase, as if he had
not heard Deppingham's remark. "He put them on and tried to overawe the
crowd that night when I was threatened in the market-place. He did his
best, poor chap, and I----"
"Look!" exclaimed Britt suddenly, pointing toward one of the big gates
in the upper end of the park. "I believe they're making an attack!"
The next instant the men in the balcony were leaving it pell-mell,
picking up the ever-ready rifles as they dashed off through the halls
and out into the park. What they had seen at the gate--which was one
rarely used--was sufficient to demand immediate action on their part; a
demonstration of some sort was in progress at this particular entrance
to the grounds. Saunders was left behind with instructions to guard the
château against assault from other sources. Headed by Chase, the four
men hurried across the park, prepared for an encounter at the gate. They
kept themselves as well covered as possible by the boxed trees, although
up to this time there had been no shooting.
Chase, in advance, suddenly gave vent to a loud cry and boldly dashed
out into the open, disregarding all shelter. Two of the native park
patrol were hastening toward the gate from another direction. Outside
the huge, barred gate a throng of men and women were congregated. Some
of the men were vigorously slashing away at the bars with sledges and
crow-bars; others were crouching with rifles levelled--in the other
direction!
"It's Bowles!" shouted Chase eagerly.
The situation at once became clear to those inside the walls. Bowles and
his friends, a score all told, had managed to reach the upper gate and
were now clamouring for admission, beset on all sides by the pickets who
were watching the château. Bowles, with his pathetic red jacket, could
be distinguished in the midst of his huddled followers, shouting
frantically for haste on the part of those inside. Some one was waving a
white flag of truce. A couple of shots were fired from the forest above,
and there were screams from the frightened women, shouts from the men,
who had ceased battering the gates at the signs of rescue from within.
"For God's sake, be quick," shouted Bowles. "There's a thousand of them
coming up the mines' road!"
The gates were unlocked by the patrol and the panic-stricken throng
tumbled through them and scattered like sheep behind the high,
sheltering walls. Once more the massive gates were closed and the bolts
thrown down, just in time to avoid a fusillade of bullets from the
outside. It was all over in a minute. A hundred throats emitted shouts
of rage, curses and threats, and then, as if by magic, the forest became
as still as death.
Once inside the château, the fugitives, shivering with terror, fairly
collapsed. There were three Englishmen in the party besides Bowles,
scrubby, sickly chaps, but men after all. It was with unfeigned surprise
that Chase recognised the Persian wives of Jacob von Blitz among the
women who had been obliged to cast their lot with the refugees from
Aratat. The sister of Neenah and five or six other women who had been
sold into the island made up the remainder of the little group of
trembling females. Their faces were veiled; their persons were bedecked
with all of the gaudy raiment and jewels that their charms had won from
their liege lords. They were slaves, these Persians and Turks and
Egyptians, but they came out of bondage with the trophies of queens
stuck in their hair, in their ears, on their hands and arms and about
their waists and throats.
The remainder of the men in the party, fourteen or fifteen in all, were
of many castes and nationalities, and of various ages. There were
brown-skinned fellows from Calcutta, a couple of sturdy Greeks, an
Egyptian and a Persian, three or four Assyrians and as many Maori. As to
their walks in life: among them were clerks and guards from the bank,
members of the native constabulary, Indian fakirs and showmen, and
venders of foreign gewgaws.
Bowles, his thin legs still shaking perceptibly, although he strove
mightily to hold them at strict "attention," was the spokesman. A
valiant heart thumped once more against the seams of the little red
jacket; if his hand trembled and his voice shook, it was because of the
unwonted exertion to which both had been put in that stirring flight at
dawn. He had eager, anxious listeners about him, too--and of the
nobility. Small wonder that his knees were intractable.
"For some time we have been preparing for the outbreak," he said,
fingering the glass of brandy that Britt had poured for him. "Ever since
Chase began to go in so noticeably for the ladies--ahem!"
Chase glared at him. The others tittered.
"I don't mean the old story, sir, of the Persians--and I'm saying, sir,
what's more, there wasn't a word of truth in it--I mean the ladies of
the château, begging pardon, too. Von Blitz came to me often with
complaints that you were being made a fool of by a pretty face or two,
and that you were going over to the enemy, body and soul. Of course, I
stood out for you, sir. It wasn't any use. They'd made up their minds to
get rid of you. When I heard that they tried to kill you the night
before last, I made up my mind that no white man was to be left to tell
the tale. Last night we locked all the company's books in the vaults,
got together all the banknotes and gold we had on hand, and made
preparations to go on board the steamer when she called this morning. My
plan was to tell them of the trouble here and try to save you. We were
all expected to die of the plague, that's what we were, and I realised
that Tommy Atkins was off the boards forever.
"We hadn't any more than got the cash and valuables ready to smuggle
aboard, when down came Rasula upon us. Ten o'clock last night, your
lordship. That's what it was--ten P.M. He had a dozen men with him and
he told every mother's son of us that our presence in the town was not
desired until after the ship had sailed away. We were ordered to leave
the town and go up into the hills under guard. There wasn't any chance
to fight or argue. We said we'd go, but we'd have the government on them
for the outrage. We left the rooms in the bank building, carrying away
what money we could well conceal. Later we were joined by the other men
you found with us, all of whom had refused to join in the outrage.
"We were taken up into the hills by a squad of men. There wasn't a man
among us that didn't know that we were to be killed as soon as the ship
had gone. With our own eyes, we saw the mail bags rifled, and nearly all
of the mail destroyed. The pouches from the château were burned. Rasula
politely informed us that the plague had broken out among the château
servants and that no mail could be sent out from that place. He said he
intended to warn the ship's officer of the danger in landing and--well,
that explains the short stay of the ship and the absence of nearly all
mail from the island. We had no means of communicating with the
officers. There won't be another boat for three weeks, and they won't
land because of the plague. They will get word, however, that every one
in the château has died of the disease, and that scores of natives are
dying every day.
"Well, we decided to break away from the guard and try to get to the
château. It was our only chance. It was their intention to take some of
us back to the bank this morning to open the vault and the safes. That
was to be our last act, I fancy. I think it was about four this morning
when a dozen of the women came up to where we were being held. They were
flying from the town and ran into the arms of our guard before they knew
of their presence. It seems that those devils down there had set out to
kill their women because it was known that one of them had warned Mr.
Chase of his danger. According to the women who came with us, at least a
score of these unlucky wives were strangled. Von Blitz's wives succeeded
in getting word to a few of their friends and they fled.
"During the excitement brought about by their arrival in our camp, we
made a sudden attack upon our guards. They were not expecting it and we
had seized their rifles before they could recover from their surprise. I
regret to say that we were obliged to kill a few of them in the row that
followed. But that is neither here nor there. We struck off for the
lower park as lively as possible. The sun was well up, and we had no
time to lose. We found the gates barred and went on to the upper gates.
You let us in just in time. The alarm had gone back to the town and we
could see the mob coming up the mines' road. My word, it was a close
shave."
He mopped his brow with trembling hand and smiled feebly at his
countrymen for support. The colour was coming back into their faces and
they could smile with the usual British indifference.
"A very close shave, my crimes!" vouchsafed the stumpy gentleman who
kept the books at the bank.
"It's an ill wind that blows all evil," said Deppingham. "Mr. Bowles,
you are most welcome. We were a bit short of able-bodied soldiers. May
we count on you and the men who came with you?"
"To the end, my lord," said Bowles, almost bursting his jacket by
inflation. The others slapped their legs staunchly.
"Then, we'll all have breakfast," announced Lord Deppingham. "Mr.
Saunders, will you be good enough to conduct the recruits to quarters?"
The arrival of the refugees from Aratat gave the château a staunch
little garrison, not counting the servants, whose loyalty was an
uncertain quantity. The stable men in the dungeon below served as
illustrations of what might be expected of the others, despite their
profession of fidelity. Including the house servants, who, perforce,
were loyal, there was an able-bodied garrison of sixty men. After
luncheon, Deppingham called his forces together. He gave fresh
instructions, exacted staunch promises, and heard reports from all of
his aides. The château by this time had been made practically
impregnable to attack from the outside.
"For the time being we are as snug as bugs in a rug," said Deppingham,
when all was over. "Shall we rejoin the ladies, gentlemen?" He was as
calm as a May morning.
The three leaders found the ladies in the shaded balcony, lounging
lazily as if no such thing as danger existed. Below them in the grassy
courtyard, a dozen indolent, sensuous Persians were congregated, lying
about in the shade with all the abandon of absolute security. The three
women in the balcony had been watching them for an hour, commenting
freely upon these creatures from another world. Neenah, the youngest and
prettiest of them all, had wafted kisses to the proud dames above. She
had danced for their amusement. Her companions sat staring at the ladies
at the railing, dark eyes peering with disdain above the veils which hid
their faces.
Lady Agnes waved her hand lazily toward the group below, sending a
mocking smile to Chase. "The Asiatic plague," she said cheerfully.
"The deuce," broke in her husband, not catching her meaning. "Has it
really broken out--"
"Deppy, you are the dumbest creature I know," exclaimed his wife.
Chase smiled broadly. "She refers to the newly acquired harem, Lord
Deppingham. We're supposed to die with the Asiatic plague, not to--not
to--"
"Not to live with it! Ho, ho, I see, by Jove!" roared Deppingham
amiably. "Splendid! Harem! I get the point. Ripping!"
"They're not so bad, are they, Bobby?" asked Lady Agnes coolly, going to
Browne's side at the railing. Chase hesitated a moment and then walked
over to Drusilla Browne, who was looking pensively into the courtyard
below. He was sorry for her. She laughed and chatted with him for ten
minutes, but there was a strained note in her voice that did not escape
his notice. It may not have been true that Browne was in love with Lady
Deppingham, but it was more than evident that his wife felt convinced
that he was.
"Splendid!" was the sudden exclamation of Drusilla's vagrant lord. The
others looked up, interested. "Say, everybody, Lady Agnes and I have hit
upon a ripping scheme. It's great!"
"To better our position?" asked Deppingham.
"Position? What--oh, I see. Not exactly. What do you say to a charity
ball, the proceeds to go to the survivors of the plague we're expected
to have?"
The Princess gave a quick, involuntary look at Chase's face. Browne's
tall fellow-countryman was now leaning against the rail beside her
chair. She saw a look of surprised amusement flit across his face,
succeeded almost instantly by a hard, dark frown of displeasure. He
waited a moment and then looked down at her with unmistakable shame and
disapproval in his eyes. Bobby Browne was going on volubly about the
charity ball, Deppingham listening with a fair show of tolerance.
"We might just as well be merry while we can," he was saying. "Think of
what the French did at the time of the Commune. They danced and died
like ladies and gentlemen. And our own forefathers, Chase, at the time
of the American Revolution--remember them, too. They gave their balls
and parties right under the muzzles of British cannon. And
Vicksburg--New Orleans, too--in the Civil War! Think of 'em! Why
shouldn't we be as game and as gay as they?"
"But they were earnest in their distractions," observed Deppingham, with
a glance at his wife's eager face. "This could be nothing more than a
travesty, a jest."
"Oh, let us be sports," cried Lady Agnes, falling into an Americanism
readily. "It may be a jest, but what odds? Something to kill time with."
Chase and the Princess watched Deppingham's expressionless face as he
listened to his wife and Bobby Browne. They were talking of
arrangements. He looked out over the roof of the opposite wing, beyond
the group of Persians, and nodded his head from time to time. There was
no smile on his lips, however.
"I don't like Mr. Browne," whispered Genevra suddenly. Chase did not
reply. She waited a moment and then went on. "He is not like Deppingham.
Do you understand?"
Lady Deppingham came over to them at that instant, her eyes sparkling.
"It's to be to-night," she said. "A fashionable charity ball--everything
except the newspaper accounts, don't you know. Committees and all that.
It's short notice, of course, but life may be short. We'll have Arab
acrobatics, Persian dances, a grand march, electric lights and
absolutely no money to distribute. That's the way it usually is. Now,
Mr. Chase, don't look so sour! Be nice, please!" She put her hand on his
arm and smiled up at him so brightly that he could not hold out against
her. She caught the touch of disapproval in Genevra's glance, and a
sharp, quick flash of rebellion came into her own eyes--a stubborn line
stopped for an instant at the corners of her mouth.
"What is a charity ball?" asked Genevra after a moment.
"A charity ball is a function where one set of women sit in the boxes
and say nasty things about the women on the floor, and those on the
floor say horrid things about the women in the boxes. It's great fun."
"Charity is simply a hallucination, then?"
"Yes, but don't mention it aloud. Mr. Britt is trying with might and
main to prove that Bobby and I have hallucinations without end. If I
happen to look depressed at breakfast time, he jots it down--spells of
depression and melancholia, do you see? He's a dreadful man."
Saunders was approaching from the lower end of the balcony. He appeared
flustered. His face was red and perspiring and his manner distrait.
Saunders, since his failure to establish the advantages of polygamy, had
shrunk farther into the background than ever, quite unlike Britt, who
had not lost confidence in the divorce laws. The sandy-haired solicitor
was now exhibiting symptoms of unusual discomfiture.
"Well, Saunders?" said Deppingham, as the lawyer stopped to clear his
throat obsequiously.
"I have found sufficient food of all descriptions, sir, to last for a
month, at least," said Saunders, in a strained, unnatural voice.
"Good! Has Miss Pelham jilted you, Saunders?" He put the question in a
jocular way. Its effect on Saunders was startling. His face turned
almost purple with confusion.
"No, sir, she has not, sir," he stammered.
"Beg pardon, Saunders. I didn't mean to offend. Where is she, pray, with
the invoice?"
"I'm--I'm sure I don't know, sir," responded Saunders, striving to
regain his dignity.
"Have a cigarette, Deppy?" interposed Browne, seeing that something was
amiss with Saunders. In solemn order the silver box went the rounds.
Drusilla alone refused to take one. Her husband looked surprised.
"Want one, Drusie?"
"No, thank you, Bobby," she said succinctly. "I've stopped. I don't
think it's womanly."
Lady Deppingham's hand was arrested with the match half way to her lips.
She looked hard at Drusilla for a moment and then touched the light
serenely to her cigarette.
"Pooh!" was all that she said. Genevra did not light hers at all.
Saunders spoke up, as if suddenly recollecting something. "I have also
to report, sir, that the stock of cigarettes is getting very low. They
can't last three days at this rate, sir."
The three men stared at him.
"Good Lord!" exclaimed Chase, who could face any peril and relish the
experience if needs be, but who now foresaw a sickening deprivation.
"You can't mean it, Saunders?"
"I certainly do, sir. The mint is holding out well, though, sir. I think
it will last."
"By George, this is a calamity," groaned Chase. "How is a man to fight
without cigarettes?"
Genevra quietly proffered the one she had not lighted, a quizzical smile
in her eyes.
"My contribution to the cause," she said gaily. "What strange creatures
men are! You will go out and be shot at all day and yet--" she paused
and looked at the cigarette as if it were entitled to reverence.
"It does seem a bit silly, doesn't it?" lamented the stalwart Chase.
Then he took the cigarette.