AUSTIN'S POINT OF VIEW
Mrs. Hatherly decided during the ride to the beach that she had seen
quite enough of that island in the three days she had spent there, and
she had already gone off to the _Estremedura_ with Muriel and Jacinta
when Austin stood smoking on the little mole. Long undulations of
translucent brine seethed close past his feet to break with a drowsy
roar upon the lava reefs, and the _Estremedura_ lay rolling wildly a
quarter of a mile away. A cluster of barefooted men were with difficulty
loading her big lancha beneath the mole with the barley-straw the row of
camels, kneeling in the one straggling street behind him, had brought
down. The men were evidently tired, for they had toiled waist-deep in
the surf since early morning, and Austin decided to spare them the
journey for his despatch gig.
Accordingly, when the lancha was loaded high with the warm yellow bales
he clambered up on them and bade the crew get under way. The long sweeps
dipped, and the craft went stern first towards the reef for a moment or
two before she crawled out to sea, looking very like a cornstack set
adrift as she lurched over the shining swell. Austin lay upon the straw,
smoking tranquilly, for everybody leaves a good deal to chance in Spain,
and now and then flung a little Castilian badinage at the gasping men
who pulled the big sweeps below. As it happened, they could not see him
because the straw rose behind them in a yellow wall. They were cheerful,
inconsequent fishermen, who would have done a good deal for him, and not
altogether because of the bottle of caA+-a he occasionally gave them.
They had traversed half the distance, when, opening up a point, they met
a steeper heave, and when the dripping bows went up after the plunge
there was a movement of the barley-straw. Austin felt for a better hold,
but two or three bales fetched away as he did so, and in another moment
he plunged down headforemost into the sea. When he came up he found a
straw bale floating close beside him, and held on by it while he looked
about him. The lancha was apparently going on, and it was evident that
although the men must have heard the straw fall, they were not aware
that he had gone with it. There was, he surmised, no room for the lost
bales, and the men could not have heaved them up on top of the load. It
therefore appeared probable that they purposed unloading the lancha
before they came back for them, and he decided to climb up on the bale.
He found it unexpectedly difficult, for when he had almost dragged
himself up the bale rolled over and dropped him in again; while, when he
tried to wriggle up the front of it, it stood upright and then fell upon
him. After several attempts he gave it up, and set out for the steamer
with little pieces of barley-straw and spiky ears sticking all over him.
He could swim tolerably well, and swung along comfortably enough over
the smooth-backed swell, for his light clothing did not greatly cumber
him. Still, he did not desire that any one beyond the _Estremedura_'s
crew should witness his arrival.
He was, accordingly, by no means pleased to see Jacinta and Miss
Gascoyne stroll out from the deck-house as he drew in under the
_Estremedura_'s side, especially as there were no apparent means of
getting on board quietly. The lancha had vanished round the stern, the
ladder was triced up, and the open cargo gangway several feet above the
brine. The steamer also hove up another four or five feet of streaming
plates every time she rolled. Still, it was evident that he could not
stay where he was on the chance of the ladies not noticing him
indefinitely, and as he swam on again Miss Gascoyne broke into a
startled scream.
"Oh!" she said, "there's somebody drowning!"
The cry brought Macallister to the gangway, and he was very grimy in
engine-room disarray. Austin, in the water, saw the wicked twinkle in
his eyes, and was not pleased to hear Jacinta laugh musically.
"I really don't think he is in any danger," she said.
Austin set his lips, and swam for the gangway as the _Estremedura_
rolled down. His flung up hand came within a foot of the opening, and
then he sank back a fathom or more below it as the _Estremedura_ hove
that side of her out of the water. When he swung up again Macallister
was standing above him with a portentiously sharp boat hook, while two
or three grinning seamen clustered round. The girls were also leaning
out from the saloon-deck rails.
"Will ye no keep still while I hook ye!" said the engineer.
"If you stick that confounded thing into my clothes I'll endeavour to
make you sorry," said Austin savagely.
Macallister made a sweep at him, and Austin went down, while one of the
seamen, leaning down, grabbed him by the shoulder, when he rose.
"Let go!" he sputtered furiously. "Give me your hand instead!"
He evidently forgot that the seaman, who held on, was not an Englishman,
and next moment he was hove high above the water. Then there was a
ripping and tearing, and while the seaman reeled back with a long strip
of alpaca in his hand, Austin splashed into the water. He came up in
time to see Macallister smiling in Jacinta's direction reassuringly.
"There's no need to be afraid," he said. "Though I'm no sure he's worth
it, I'll save him for ye."
Now, Jacinta was usually quite capable of making any man who offended
her feel sorry for himself, but the sight of Austin's savage red face as
he gazed at Macallister, with the torn jacket flapping about him in the
water and the barley-straw sticking all over him, was too much for her,
and she broke into a peal of laughter.
In another moment Macallister contrived to get his boat hook into the
slack of Austin's garments, and when two seamen seized the haft they
hove him out, wrong side uppermost, and incoherent with wrath. When they
dropped him, a tattered, dripping heap, on the deck, Miss Gascoyne
leaned her face upon her hands, and laughed almost hysterically, until
Jacinta touched her shoulder.
"Mr. Austin evidently believes he has a good deal to thank his comrade
for. I think you had better come away," she said.
Austin put himself to some trouble in endeavouring to make Macallister
understand what he thought of him, when they had gone, but the engineer
only grinned.
"Well," he said, "I'll forgive ye. If I had looked like ye do with two
ladies watching me, I might have been a bit short in temper myself, but
come away to your room. The _Andalusia_'s boat came across a while ago,
and there's business waiting ye."
Austin went with him, but stopped a moment when he approached his room.
The door was open, as usual, and a stranger, in grey tourist tweed, upon
whom Englishman and clergyman was stamped unmistakably, sat inside the
room. Austin felt that he knew who the man must be.
"Does he know Miss Gascoyne is on board?" he asked.
"No," said Macallister. "The boat came round under our quarter, and we
landed him through the lower gangway. He said he'd stay here and wait
for ye. He's no sociable, anyway. I've offered him cigars and anisow,
besides some of my special whisky, but he did not seem willing to talk
to me."
Austin fancied he could understand it. Macallister, who had discarded
his jacket, was very grimy, and his unbuttoned uniform vest failed to
conceal the grease stains on his shirt. Then he remembered that his own
jacket was torn to rags, and he was very wet; but Macallister raised his
voice:
"Here's Mr. Austin, sir," he said.
The clergyman, who said nothing, gazed at him, and Austin, who realised
that his appearance was against him, understood his astonishment. He
also fancied that the stranger was one with whom appearances usually
counted a good deal.
"If you will wait a minute or two while I change my clothes, I will be
at your service, sir," he said. "As you may observe, I have been in the
sea."
"Swum off to the steamer," said Macallister, with a wicked smile. "It
saves washing. He comes off yon way now and then."
Austin said nothing, but stepped into the room, and, gathering up an
armful of clothing, departed, leaving a pool of water behind him. The
clergyman, it was evident, did not know what to make of either of them.
A few minutes later Austin, who came back and closed the door, sat down
opposite him.
"My name is Gascoyne," said the stranger, handing him an open note.
"Mr. Brown of Las Palmas, who gave me this introduction, assured me that
I could speak to you confidentially, and that you would be able to tell
me where my daughter and Mrs. Hatherly are staying."
Austin glanced at him with misgivings. He was a little man, with pale
blue eyes, and hair just streaked with grey. His face was white and
fleshy, without animation or any suggestion of ability in it, but there
had been something in the tone which seemed to indicate that he had, at
least, been accustomed to petty authority. Austin at once set him down
as a man of essentially conventional views, who was deferred to in some
remote English parish; in fact, just the man he would have expected
Muriel Gascoyne's father to be; that is, before she had revealed her
inner self. It was a type he was by no means fond of, and he was quite
aware that circumstances were scarcely likely to prepossess a man of
that description in his favour. Still, Austin was a friend of
Jefferson's, and meant to do what he could for him.
"I know where Miss Gascoyne is, but you suggested that you had something
to ask me, and I shall be busy by and by," he said.
Gascoyne appeared anxious, but evidently very uncertain whether it would
be advisable to take him into his confidence.
"I understand that you are a friend of Mr. Jefferson's?" he said.
"I am. I may add that I am glad to admit it, and I almost fancy I know
what you mean to ask me."
Gascoyne, who appeared grateful for this lead, looked at him steadily.
"Perhaps I had better be quite frank. Indeed, Mr. Brown, who informed me
that you could tell more about Jefferson than any one in the islands,
recommended it," he said. "I am, Mr. Austin, a clergyman who has never
been outside his own country before, and I think it is advisable that I
should tell you this, because there may be points upon which our views
will not coincide. It was not easy for me to get away now, but the
future of my motherless daughter is a matter of the greatest concern to
me, and I understand that Mr. Jefferson is in Africa. I want you to tell
me candidly--as a gentleman--what kind of man he is."
Austin felt a little better disposed towards Gascoyne after this. His
anxiety concerning his daughter was evident, and he had, at least, not
adopted quite the attitude Austin had expected. But as Austin was not by
any means brilliant himself, he felt the difficulty of making Gascoyne
understand the character of such a man as Jefferson, while his task was
complicated by the fact that he recognised his responsibility to both of
them. Gascoyne had put him on his honour, and he could not paint
Jefferson as he was not. In the meanwhile he greatly wished to think.
"I wonder if I might offer you a glass of wine, sir, or perhaps you
smoke?" he said.
"No, thanks," said Gascoyne, with uncompromising decision. "I am aware
that many of my brethren indulge in these luxuries. I do not."
"Well," said Austin, "if you will tell me what you have already heard
about Jefferson it might make the way a little plainer."
"I have been told that he is an American seafarer, it seems of the usual
careless type. Seafarers are, perhaps, liable to special temptations,
and it is generally understood that the lives most of them lead are not
altogether----"
Austin smiled a little when Gascoyne stopped abruptly. "I'm afraid that
must be admitted, sir. I can, however, assure you that Jefferson is an
abstemious man--Americans are, as a rule, you see--and, though there are
occasions when his conversation might not commend itself to you, he has
had an excellent education. Since we are to be perfectly candid, has it
ever occurred to you that it was scarcely likely a dissolute sailor
would meet with Miss Gascoyne's approbation?"
Gascoyne flushed a trifle. "It did not--though, of course, it should
have. Still, he told her that he was mate of the _Sachem_, which was a
painful shock to me. I, of course, remember the revolting story."
He stopped a moment, and his voice was a trifle strained when he went on
again. "I left England, Mr. Austin, within three days of getting my
daughter's letter, and have ever since been in a state of distressing
uncertainty. Mr. Jefferson is in Africa--I cannot even write him. I do
not know where my duty lies."
Had the man's intense anxiety been less evident, Austin would have been
almost amused. The Reverend Gascoyne appeared to believe that his
affairs were of paramount importance to everybody, as, perhaps, they
were in the little rural parish he came from; but there was something in
his somewhat egotistical simplicity that appealed to the younger man.
"One has to face unpleasant facts now and then, sir," he said. "There
are times when homicide is warranted at sea, and man's primitive
passions are very apt to show themselves naked in the face of imminent
peril. It is in one respect unfortunate that you have probably never
seen anything of the kind, but one could not expect too much from a man
whose comrade's head had just been shorn open by a drink-frenzied
mutineer. Can you imagine the little handful of officers, driven aft
away from the boats while the ship settled under them, standing still to
be cut down with adze and axe? You must remember, too, that they were
seafarers and Americans who had few of the advantages you and your
friends enjoy in England."
He could not help the last piece of irony, but Gascoyne, who did not
seem to notice it, groaned.
"To think of a man who appears to hold my daughter's confidence being
concerned in such an affair at all is horribly unpleasant to me."
"I have no doubt it was almost as distressing to Jefferson at the time.
Still, as you have probably never gone in fear of your life for weeks
together, you may not be capable of understanding what he felt, and we
had perhaps better get on a little further."
Gascoyne seemed to pull himself together. "Mr. Jefferson has, I
understand, no means beyond a certain legacy. It is not, after all, a
large one."
"If he is alive in six months I feel almost sure he will have twice as
much, which would mean an income of close upon AL600 a year from sound
English stock, and that, one would fancy, would not be considered abject
poverty in a good many English rural parishes."
Gascoyne sighed. "That is true--it is certainly true. You said--if he
were alive?"
"As he is now on his way to one of the most deadly belts of swamp and
jungle in Western Africa, I think I was warranted. Knowing him as I do,
it is, I fancy, certain that if he does not come back with AL16,000 in
six months he will be dead."
"Ah," said Gascoyne, with what was suspiciously like a sigh of relief.
"One understands that it is a particularly unhealthy climate. Still,
when one considers that all is arranged for the best----"
Austin, who could not help it, smiled sardonically, though he felt he
had an almost hopeless task. It appeared impossible that Gascoyne should
ever understand the character of a man like Jefferson. But he meant to
do what he could.
"It is naturally easier to believe that when circumstances coincide with
our wishes, sir," he said. "Now, I do not exactly charge you with
wishing Jefferson dead, though your face shows that you would not be
sorry. I am, of course, another careless seafarer, a friend of his, and
I can understand that what you have seen of me has not prepossessed you
in my favour. Still, if I can, I am going to show you Jefferson as he
is. To begin with, he believes, as you do, that Miss Gascoyne is far
above him--and in this he is altogether wrong. Miss Gascoyne is
doubtless a good woman, but Jefferson is that harder thing to be, a good
man. His point of view is not yours, it is, perhaps, a wider one; but he
has, what concerns you most directly now, a vague, reverential respect
for all that is best in womanhood, which, I think, is sufficient to
place Miss Gascoyne under a heavy responsibility."
He stopped a moment, looking steadily at Gascoyne, who appeared blankly
astonished.
"Because it was evident to him that a woman of Miss Gascoyne's
conventional upbringing must suffer if brought into contact with the
unpleasant realities of the outside world, he has staked his life
willingly--not recklessly--on the winning of enough to place her
beyond the reach of adversity. He realised that it was, at least, even
chances he never came back from Africa; but it seemed to him better
that she should be proud of him dead than have to pity him and herself
living. I know this, because he told me he would never drag the woman
who loved him down. He fell in love with her without reflection,
instinctively--or, perhaps, because it was arranged so--I do not
understand these things. As surely--conventionalities don't always
count--she fell in love with him, and then he had to grapple with the
position. Your daughter could not live, as some women do, unshocked
and cheerfully among rude and primitive peoples whose morality is not
your morality, in the wilder regions of the earth. It was also evident
that she could not live sumptuously in England on the interest of
AL8,000. You see what he made of it. If he died, Miss Gascoyne would be
free. If he lived, she could avoid all that would be unpleasant. Isn't
that sufficient? Could there be anything base or mean in a nature
capable of devotion of that description?"
Gascoyne sat silent almost a minute. Then he said very quietly: "I have
to thank you, Mr. Austin--the more so because I admit I was a little
prejudiced against you. Perhaps men living as I do acquire too narrow a
view. I am glad you told me. And now where is my daughter and Mrs.
Hatherly?"
"Wait another minute! Jefferson is, as you will recognise, a man of
exceptional courage, but he is also a man of excellent education, and,
so far as that goes, of attractive presence; such a one, in fact, as I
think a girl of Miss Gascoyne's station is by no means certain to come
across again in England. Now, if I have said anything to offend you, it
has not been with that object, and you will excuse it. Your daughter and
Mrs. Hatherly are on board this ship. It seemed better that you should
hear me out before I told you."
"Ah," said Gascoyne. "Well, I think you were right, and again I am much
obliged to you. Will you take me to Mrs. Hatherly?"
Austin did so, and coming back flung himself down on the settee in
Macallister's room.
"Give me a drink--a long one. I don't know that I ever talked so much at
once in my life, and I only hope I didn't make a consummate ass of
myself," he said.
"It's no that difficult," said Macallister, reflectively, as he took out
a syphon and a bottle of wine. "Ye made excuses for yourself and
Jefferson?"
Austin laughed. "No," he said. "I made none for Jefferson. I think I
rubbed a few not particularly pleasant impressions into the other man. I
felt I had to. It was, of course, a piece of abominable presumption."
Macallister leaned against the bulkhead and regarded him with a sardonic
grin.
"I would have liked to have heard ye," he said.