be undone by punching a fellow's head. I'm not looking for trouble,"
went on Craig, gaining assurance. "I am practically down and out
myself. I can't go back to the States for a while. All I want is to
get to Hongkong in peace for the April races. What stand are you going
to take on board here? That's all I want to know."
"It would give me great pleasure, Craig, to take you by the scruff of
your neck and drop you overboard. But as you say, what's been done
can't be remedied by bashing in a man's head. Well, here you are,
since you ask. If you speak to me, if I catch you playing cards or
auctioneering a pool, if you make yourself obnoxious to any of the
passengers, I promise to give you the finest thrashing you ever had,
the moment we reach Penang. If you don't go ashore there, I'll do it
in Singapore. Have I made myself clear?"
"That's square enough, Paul," said the gambler resignedly. There
wasn't much money on board these two-by-four boats, anyhow, so he
wasn't losing much.
Warrington leaned forward. "Paul? You said Paul?"
"Why, yes," wonderingly.
"Better go."
"All right." Craig returned to his mattress. "Now, what made him curl
up like that because I called him Paul? Bah!" He dug a hole in his
pillow and tried to sleep.
"Paul!" murmured Warrington.
He stared down at the flashes of phosphorescence, blindly. The man had
called him Paul. After ten years to learn the damnable treachery of
it! Suddenly he clenched his hand and struck the rail. He would go
back. All his loyalty, all his chivalry, had gone for naught. This
low rascal had called him Paul.
IX
TWO SHORT WEEKS
When Elsa stepped out of the companionway the next morning she winced
and shut her eyes. The whole arc of heaven seemed hung with
fire-opals; east, west, north and south, whichever way she looked,
there was dazzling iridescence. The long flowing swells ran into the
very sky, for there was visible no horizon. Gold-leaf and opals,
thought Elsa. What a wonderful world! What a versatile mistress was
nature! Never two days alike, never two human beings; animate and
inanimate, all things were singular. She paused at the rail and
glanced down the rusty black side of the ship and watched the thread of
frothing water that clutched futilely at the red water-line. Never two
living things alike, in all the millions and millions swarming the
globe. What a marvel! Even though this man Warrington and Arthur
looked alike, they were not so. In heart and mind they were as
different as two days.
She began her usual walk, and in passing the smoke-room door on the
port side she met Warrington coming out. How deep-set his eyes were!
He was about to go on, but she looked straight into his eyes, and he
stopped. She laughed, and held out her hand.
"I really believe you were going to snub me."
"Then you haven't given me up?"
"Never mind what I have or have not done. Walk with me. I am going to
talk plainly to you. If what I say is distasteful, don't hesitate to
interrupt me. You interest me, partly because you act like a boy,
partly because you are a man."
"I haven't any manners."
"They need shaking up and readjusting. I have just been musing over a
remarkable thing, that no two objects are alike. Even the most
accurate machinery can not produce two nails without variation. So it
is with humans. You look so like the man I know back home that it is
impossible not to ponder over you." She smiled into his face. "Why
should nature produce two persons who are mistaken for each other, and
yet give them two souls, two intellects, totally different?"
"I have often wondered."
"Is nature experimenting, or is she slyly playing a trick on humanity?"
"Let us call it a trick; by all means, let us call it that."
"Your tone . . ."
"Yes, yes," impatiently; "you are going to say that it sounds bitter.
But why should another man have a face like mine, when we have nothing
in common? What right has he to look like me?"
"It is a puzzle," Elsa admitted.
"This man who looks like me--I have no doubt it affects you
oddly--probably lives in ease; never knew what a buffet meant, never
knew what a care was, has everything he wants; in fact, a gentleman of
your own class, whose likes and dislikes are cut from the same pattern
as your own. Well, that is as it should be. A woman such as you are
ought to marry an equal, a man whose mind and manners are fitted to the
high place he holds in your affection and in your world. How many
worlds there are, man-made and heaven-made, and each as deadly as the
other, as cold and implacable! To you, who have been kind to me, I
have acted like a fool. The truth is, I've been skulking. My vanity
was hurt. I had the idea that it was myself and not my resemblance
that appealed to your interest. What makes you trust me?" bluntly; and
he stopped as he asked the question.
"Why, I don't know," blankly. Instantly she recovered herself. "But I
do trust you." She walked on, and perforce he fell into her stride.
"It is because you trust the other man."
"Thanks. That is it precisely; and for nearly two weeks I've been
trying to solve that very thing."
After a pause he asked: "Have you ever read Reade's _Singleheart and
Doubleface_?"
"Yes. But what bearing has it upon our discussion?"
"None that you would understand," evasively. His tongue had nearly
tripped him.
"Are you sure?"
"Of this, that I shall never understand women."
"Do not try to," she advised. "All those men who knew most about women
were the unhappiest."
They made a round in silence. Passengers were beginning to get into
their deck-chairs; and Elsa noted the backs of the many novels that
ranged from the pure chill altitudes of classic and demi-classics down
to the latest popular yarn. Many an eye peered over the tops of the
books; and envy and admiration and curiosity brought their shafts to
bear upon her. It was something to create these variant expressions of
interest. She was oblivious.
"We stop at Penang?" she asked.
"Five or six hours, long enough to see the town."
"We went directly from Singapore to Colombo, so we missed the town
coming out. I should like to see that cocoanut plantation of yours."
"It is too far inland. Besides, I am a _persona non grata_ there."
As, indeed, he was. His heart burned with shame and rage at the
recollection of the last day there. Three or four times, during the
decade, the misfortune of being found out had fallen to his lot, and
always when he was employed at something worth while.
Elsa discreetly veered into another channel. "You will go back to
Italy, I suppose. How cheaply and delightfully one may live there,
when one knows something of the people! I had the Villa Julia one
spring. You know it; Sorrento. Is there anything more stunning than
oranges in the rain?" irrelevantly.
"Yes, I shall go to Italy once more. But first I am going home." He
was not aware of the grimness that entered his voice as he made this
statement.
"I am glad," she said. "After all, that is the one place."
"If you are happy enough to find a welcome."
"And you will see your mother again?"
He winced. "Yes. Do you know, it does not seem possible that I met
you but two short weeks ago? I have never given much thought to this
so-called reincarnation; but somewhere in the past ages I knew you;
only . . ."
"Only what?"
"Only, you weren't going home to marry the other fellow."
She stopped at the rail. "Who knows?" she replied ruminatingly.
"Perhaps I am not going to marry him."
"Don't you love him? . . . I beg your pardon, Miss Chetwood!"
"You're excused."
"I still need some training. I have been alone so much that I haven't
got over the trick of speaking my thoughts aloud."
"No harm has been done. The fault lay with me."
"I used to learn whole pages from stories and recite them to the trees
or to the parrot. It kept me from going mad, I believe. In camp I
handled coolies; none of whom could speak a word of English. I didn't
have James with me at that time. During the day I was busy enough
seeing that they did their work well. When things ran smoothly I'd
take out a book and study. At night I'd stand before my tent and
declaim. I could not read at night. If I lighted a lantern the tent
would become alive with abominable insects. So I'd declaim, merely to
hear the sound of my voice. Afterward I learned that the coolies
looked upon me as a holy man. They believed I was nightly offering
prayers to one of my gods. Perhaps I was; the god of reason. In the
mornings I used to have to shake my boots. Frogs and snakes would get
in during the night, the latter in search of the former. Lively times!
All that seems like a bad dream now."
"And how is Rajah?"
"Ugly as ever."
"Are you going to take him with you?"
"Wherever I go. Looks silly, doesn't it, for a man of my size to tote
around a parrot-cage? But I don't care what people think. Life is too
short. It's what you think of yourself that really counts."
"That is one of the rules I have laid down for myself. If only we all
might go through life with that idea! There wouldn't be any gossip or
scandal, then."
"Some day I am going to tell you why I have lived over here all these
years."
"I shouldn't, not if it hurts you."
"On the contrary, there's a kind of happiness in unburdening one's
conscience. I called that day in Rangoon for the express purpose of
telling you everything, but I couldn't in the presence of a third
person."
"I do not demand it."
"But it's a duty I owe to myself," he insisted gravely. "Besides, it
is not impossible that you may hear the tale from other lips; and I
rather prefer to tell it myself."
"But always remember that I haven't asked you."
"Are you afraid to hear it?"
"No. What I am trying to convince you with is the fact that I trust
you, and that I give you my friendship without reservations."
He laid his hand on hers, strongly. "God bless you for that!"
She liked him because there was lacking in his words and tones that
element of flattery so distasteful to her. Men generally entertain the
fallacy that a woman demands homage, first to her physical appearance,
next to her taste in gowns, and finally to her intellect, when in the
majority of cases it is the other way around. Elsa knew that she was
beautiful, but it no longer interested her to hear men state the fact,
knowing as she did that it was simply to win her good will.
"Would you like to sit next to me at the table?"
"May I?" eagerly.
"I'll have Martha change her chair for yours. Do you speak Italian?"
"Enough for ordinary conversation. It is a long time since I have
spoken the tongue."
"Then, let us talk it as much as possible at the table, if only to
annoy those around us."
He laughed.
"I was educated in Rome," she added.
"Are you religious?"
Elsa shrugged. "At present I don't know just what my religion is.
Scandalous, isn't it? But for many weeks a thousand gods have beset
me. I've got to get back to civilization in order to readjust my
views. At luncheon, then. I am beginning to feel snoozy."
Craig had been eying the two, evilly. Set the wind in that direction?
An idea found soil in his mind, and grew. He would put a kink, as he
vulgarly expressed it, into that affair. He himself wasn't good enough
for her. The little cat should see. Warrington's ultimatum of the
night before burned and rankled, and a man of Craig's caliber never
accepted the inevitable without meditating revenge, revenge of a
roundabout character, such as would insure his physical safety. The
man could not play fair; there was nothing either in his heart or in
his mind upon which square play could find foothold. There was nothing
loyal or generous or worthy in the man. There is something admirable
in a great rascal; but a sordid one is a pitiful thing. Craig entered
the smoke-room and ordered a peg. At luncheon he saw them sitting
together, and he smothered a grin. Couldn't play cards, or engineer a
pool, eh? All right. There were other amusements.
That afternoon Martha chanced to sit down in a vacant chair, just out
of the range of the cricketers. She lolled back and idly watched the
batsmen. And then she heard voices.
"She is Elsa Chetwood. I remember seeing her pictures. She is a
society girl, very wealthy, but something of a snob."
Martha's ears tingled. A snob, indeed, because she minded principally
her own affairs!
"They think because they belong to the exclusive sets they can break as
many laws of convention as they please. Well, they can't. There's
always some scandal in the papers about them. There was some rumor of
her being engaged to the Duke of What's-his-name, but it fell through
because she wouldn't settle a fortune on him. Only sensible thing she
ever did, probably."
"And did you notice who sat next to her at luncheon?"
"A gentleman with a past, Mr. Craig tells me."
"I dare say Miss Chetwood has a past, too, if one but knew. To travel
alone like this!"
Busybodies! Martha rose indignantly and returned to the other side of
the deck. Meddlers? What did they know? To peck like daws at one so
far above them, so divinely far above them! Her natural impulse had
been to turn upon them and give them the tongue-lashing they deserved.
But she had lived too long with Elsa not to have learned
self-repression, and that the victory is always with those who stoop
not to answer. Nevertheless, she was alarmed. Elsa must be warned.
All Elsa said was: "My dear Martha, in a few days they and their
tittle-tattle will pass out of my existence, admitting that they have
ever entered it. I repeat, my life is all my own, and that I am
concerned only with those whom I wish to retain as my friends. Gossip
is the shibboleth of the mediocre, and, thank heaven, I am not
mediocre."
While dressing for dinner Elsa discovered a note on the floor of her
cabin. The writing was unfamiliar. She opened it and sought first the
signature. Slowly her cheeks reddened, and her lips twisted in
disdain. She did not read the note, but the natural keenness of her
eye caught the name of Warrington. She tore the letter into scraps
which she tossed out the port-hole. What a vile thing the man was! He
had had the effrontery to sign his name. He must be punished.
It was as late as ten o'clock when she and Warrington went up to the
bow and gazed down the cut-water. Never had she seen anything so
weirdly beautiful as the ribbons of phosphorescence which fell away on
each side, luminously blue and flaked with dancing starlike particles,
through which, ever and anon, flying-fish, dripping with the fire, spun
outward like tongues of flame.
"Beautiful, beautiful! This is the one spot on the ship. And in all
my travels I have never seen this before. All silence and darkness in
front of us, and beneath, that wonderful fire. Thanks for bringing me
here. I should not have known what I was missing."
"Often, when I was stoking, during an hour or so of relief, I used to
steal up here and look down at the mystery, for it will ever be a
mystery to me. And I found comfort."
"Are you religious, too?"
"In one thing, that God demands that every man shall have faith in
himself."
How deep his voice was as compared to Arthur's! Arthur. Elsa frowned
at the rippling magic. Why was she invariably comparing the two men?
What significance did it have upon the future, since, at the present
moment, it was not understandable?
"There is a man on board by the name of Craig," she said. "I advise
you to beware of him."
"Who introduced him to you?" The anger in his voice was very agreeable
to her ears. "Who dared to?"
"No one. He introduced himself on the way up to Mandalay. In Rangoon
I closed the acquaintance, such as it was, with the aid of a hat-pin."
"A hat-pin! What did he say to you?" roughly.
"Nothing that I care to repeat. . . . Stop! I am perfectly able to
take care of myself. I do not need any valiant champion."
"He has spoken to you about me?"
"A letter. I saw only his name and yours. I tore it up and threw it
overboard. Let us go back. Somehow, everything seems spoiled. I am
sorry I spoke."
"I shall see that he does not bother you again," ominously.
They returned to the promenade deck in silence. When Warrington found
Craig the man was helplessly intoxicated. He lay sprawled upon his
mattress, and the kick administered did not stir him. Warrington
looked down at the sodden wretch moodily.
Craig's intoxication was fortunate for him, otherwise he would have
been roughly handled; for there was black murder in the heart of the
broken man standing above him. Warrington relaxed his clenched hands.
This evil-breathing thing at his feet was the primal cause of it all,
he and a man's damnable weakness. Of what use his new-found fortune?
Better for him had he stayed in the jungle, better have died there,
hugging his poor delusion. Oh, abysmal fool that he had been!
X
THE CUT DIRECT
It was after five in the morning when the deckhands tried to get Craig
to go down to his room. With the dull obstinacy of a drunken man, he
refused to stir; he was perfectly satisfied to stay where he was. The
three brown men stood irresolutely and helplessly around the man.
Every one had gone below. The hose was ready to flush the deck. It
did not matter; he, Craig, would not budge.
"Leave me alone, you black beggars!"
"But, Sahib," began one of the Lascars, who spoke English.
"Don't talk to me. I tell you, get out!" striking at their feet with
his swollen hands.
Warrington, who had not lain down at all, but who had wandered about
the free decks like some lost soul from _The Flying Dutchman_,
Warrington, hearing voices, came out of the smoke-room. A glance was
sufficient. A devil's humor took possession of him. He walked over.
"Get up," he said quietly.
Craig blinked up at him from out of puffed eyes. "Go to the devil!
Fine specimen to order me about."
"Will you get up peacefully? These men have work to do."
Craig was blind to his danger. "What's that to me? Go away, all of
you, to the devil, for all I care. I'll get up when I get damn good
and ready. Not before."
Warrington picked up the hose.
"Sahib!" cried the Lascar in protest.
"Be still!" ordered Warrington. "Craig, for the last time, will you
get up?"
"No!"
Warrington turned the key, and a deluge of cold salt-water struck Craig
full in the chest. He tried to sit up, but was knocked flat. Then he
rolled over on the deck, choking and sputtering. He crawled on his
hands and knees until he reached the chair-rail, which he clutched
desperately, drawing himself up. The pitiless stream never swerved.
It smacked against the flat of his back like the impact of a hand.
"For God's sake stop it!" cried Craig, half strangled.
"Will you go below?"
"Yes, yes! Turn it away!" sober enough by now.
Warrington switched off the key, his face humorless, though there was a
sparkle of grim humor in his sleep-hungry eyes. Craig leaned against
the deck-house, shaking and panting.
"I would I could get at your soul as easily." Warrington threw aside
the hose, and the Lascars sprang upon it, not knowing what the big
blond Sahib might do next.
Craig turned, venom on his tongue. He spoke a phrase. In an instant,
cold with fury, Warrington had him by the throat.
"You low base cur!" he said, shaking the man until he resembled a
manikin on wires. "Had you been sober last night, I'd have thrown you
into the sea. Honorless dog! You wrote to Miss Chetwood. You
insulted her, too. If you wish to die, speak to her again."
Craig struggled fiercely to free himself. He wasn't sure, by the look
of the other man's eyes, that he wasn't going to be killed then and
there. There was something cave-mannish and cruel in the way
Warrington worried the man, shaking him from side to side and forcing
him along the deck. Suddenly he released his hold, adding a buffet on
the side of the head that sent Craig reeling and sobbing into the
companionway.
"Here, I say, what's the row?"
Warrington looked over his shoulder. The call had come from the first
officer.
"A case of drunkenness," coolly.
"But I say, we can't have brawling on deck, sir. You ought to know
that. If the man's conduct was out of order, you should have brought
your complaint before the captain or me. We really can't have any
rowing, sir."
Warrington replied gravely: "Expediency was quite necessary."
"What's this?" The officer espied the soaked bedding. "Who turned the
hose here?"
"I did," answered Warrington.
"I shall have to report that to the captain, sir. It's against the
rules aboard this steamship for passengers to touch anything of that
sort." The officer turned and began violently to abuse the bewildered
Lascars.
"I shouldn't bullyrag them, sir," interposed Warrington. "They
protested. I helped myself. After all, perhaps it was none of my
affair; but the poor devils didn't know what to do."
The officer ordered the Lascars to take the mattress and throw it on
the boat-deck, where it would dry quickly when the sun rose. Already
the world was pale with light, and a slash of crimson lay low on the
rim of the east.
"I shouldn't like to be disagreeable, sir," said the officer. "I dare
say the man made himself obnoxious; but I'm obliged to report anything
of this order."
"Don't be alarmed on my account. My name is Warrington, cabin 78.
Good morning."
Warrington entered the companionway; and a moment later he heard the
water hiss along the deck. He was not in the least sorry for what he
had done; still, he regretted the act. Craig was a beast, and there
was no knowing what he might do or say. But the hose had been simply
irresistible. He chuckled audibly on the way down to his cabin. There
was one thing of which he was assured; Craig would keep out of his way
in the future. The exhilaration of the struggle suddenly left him, and
he realized that he was dreadfully tired and heart-achy. Still
dressed, he flung himself in his bunk, and immediately fell into a
heavy dreamless sleep that endured until luncheon.
Shortly after luncheon something happened down in the engine-room; and
the chief engineer said that they would have to travel at half speed to
Penang. In other words, they would not make the port to-day, Sunday,
but to-morrow. Another day with this mysterious tantalizing woman,
thought Warrington. He went in search of her, but before he found her,
he was summoned to the captain's cabin. Warrington presented himself,
mildly curious. The captain nodded to a stool.
"Sit down, Mr. Warrington. Will you have a cheroot?"
"Yes, thanks."
A crackle of matches followed.
"This fellow Craig has complained about his treatment by you this
morning. I fancy you were rather rough with him."
"Perhaps. He was very drunk and abusive, and he needed cold water more
than anything else. I once knew the man."
"Ah! But it never pays to manhandle that particular brand of tippler.
They always retaliate in some way."
"I suppose he has given you an excerpt from my history?"
"He says you can not return to the States."
"I am returning on the very first boats I can find."
"Then he was lying?"
"Not entirely. I do not know what he has told you, and I really do not
care. The fact is, Craig is a professional gambler, and I warned him
not to try any of his tricks on board. It soured him."
"And knowing myself that he was a professional, I gave no weight to his
accusations. Besides, it is none of my business. The worst scoundrel
unhung has certain rights on my ship. If he behaves himself, that is
sufficient for me. Now, what Craig told me doesn't matter; but it
matters that I warned him. A word to any one else, and I'll drop him
at Penang to-morrow, to get out the best way he can. Ships passing
there this time of year are generally full-up. Will you have a peg?"
"No, thanks. But I wish to say that it is very decent of you."
Warrington rose.
"I have traveled too long not to recognize a man when I see him. Do
you play cricket?" asked the captain, his gaze critically covering the
man before him.
"No; I regret I'm not familiar with the game."
"Ah! Well, drop in any night after ten, if you care to."
"I shall be glad to accept your hospitality."
Outside, Warrington mused on the general untruths of first impressions.
He had written down the captain as a pompous, self-centered individual.
One never could judge a man until he came to the scratch. It heartened
him to find that there was a man on board who respected his misfortune,
whether he believed it or not. He sought Elsa, and as they promenaded,
lightly recounted the episode of the morning.