FUNNEL-PAINT'S PROPOSITION
Deep stillness hung over the dingy mangroves, and there was not a breath
of air astir, while Austin, who lay among the palm oil puncheons beside
the creek, was oppressed by a sense of suffocation. A few yards away two
Spaniards lay, apparently asleep, huddled, shapeless heaps of ragged
clothing, beneath a strip of tarpaulin raised on poles, and it was then,
though there was no sun visible, a little past the hottest part of the
afternoon. A yellow vapour that seemed suffused with heat had obscured
the heavens for a week or more, and the swamps lay sweltering beneath it
waiting for the rain. Austin longed for it ardently, for there was an
almost unendurable tension in the atmosphere.
He had shaken off the fever, but he was worn and dazed by toil, for the
strain was not without its effect upon him, and he had become subject to
curious tricks of fancy. He had brought the coal from Dakar, and it now
lay piled upon a down river beach; but he had obtained only two or three
men, and the steamy heat of the swamp belt had melted the sustaining
energy out of the _Cumbria_'s company. Individually, he felt that it was
a hopeless struggle they were making. They had untrammelled nature
against them, and, he could almost fancy, the malevolent spirits of the
bush the negroes believed in. A man, he admitted, could believe in
anything in that country, and he had of late been troubled by a feeling
that something sinister and threatening was hovering near him.
He was unpleasantly conscious of it then, which was partly why he lay
raised on his elbow, with his eyes fixed on the bush that shut in the
narrow strip of land. It rose before him, laced with tangled creepers,
mysterious, and shadowy, and it seemed to him that somebody or something
was watching him from its dim recesses. He had been conscious of the
same sensation when he plodded with a Spanish seaman along the narrow
trail to the dug up beach, an hour earlier, but it was stronger now, and
instinctively he slipped his hand into a pocket where the pistol he had
bought in Grand Canary lay. Then he laughed in a listless fashion, for
they had seen no more of the negroes since the blowing up of the
headman's house, and he felt that he had not them to fear. There was, in
fact, no tangible cause for apprehension at all.
Presently something seemed to materialise amidst the shadows where the
creepers streamed from a cottonwood in dense festoons, and, lying still,
with fingers closing on the pistol, he could almost fancy he made out a
dim human form. There was, at least, one black patch among the leaves
that suggested greasy naked skin. It vanished again, however, and
Austin, who felt his heart beating, abused the intolerable glare the
sand flung up that dazzled his vision, and then stiffened himself in
tenser watchfulness as for a moment he made out a pair of rolling eyes.
The creepers rustled, a twig snapped, and he was about to call out, when
one of the Canarios raised himself a trifle.
"Ave Maria!" he said, with drowsy hoarseness, and, though the words are
frequently used to express astonishment in his country, it was evident
that he meant them as a pious appeal.
In any case, the creepers became suddenly still again, and Austin, who
rose a trifle stiffly, found nothing when he pushed his way through the
midst of them. There was no sound in the steamy bush, not a leaf seemed
bruised or bent, and he went back again, with the perspiration dripping
from him. Nevertheless, he was annoyed to notice that the Canario was
watching him curiously.
"Nothing!" he said, with a dramatic gesture. "Nothing that one can see."
"What do you mean?" asked Austin sharply.
The Canario flung out an arm again. "Who knows! Though one cannot see
it, it comes now and then. There are evil things in this land of the
devil, and the saints are very far away. This is no place for them."
Austin sat down again and took out his pipe. He felt that there was
nothing to be gained by continuing the discussion, for of late he had
become almost superstitiously apprehensive himself. He lay watching the
bush for another hour, and then, though it was the last thing he had
intended, went to sleep. He had borne a heavy strain, and his will was
weakening.
It was dark when he was awakened by a splash of paddles as the
_Cumbria_'s surfboat crept up the creek with the relief watch, and
another hour had passed when they made the craft fast alongside the
gangway and climbed wearily on board the steamer. There was no sound or
light on board her, for half the crew were sick, and the pump had
stopped. She lay, a black mass, amidst the sliding mist, and he stumbled
over the kernel bags upon her slanted deck as he groped his way to his
room in the poop. It was seldom he or Jefferson slept soundly now, and
as they only awakened each other, Austin had moved to a room aft.
He lighted the oil lamp and flung himself, dressed as he was, into his
berth, but found he could not sleep, though he could not remember how
long he lay awake listening. He could hear mysterious splashings in the
forest and the low gurgle of the creek, while now and then a timber
creaked, or a drop of moisture fell from the iron beams with a splash
that startled him. At last, when his eyes were growing heavy, there was
a different and very faint sound on deck, and as he raised himself the
door that stood a little open swung back gently. The lamp was still
burning, for he found the light comforting, as white men are
occasionally apt to do in that country, and it was with a little gasp of
relief he felt for the pistol beneath his pillow as Funnel-paint came
in. He was almost naked, and the water ran from him, but the strip of
cloth about his loins was bound by a leather belt, with a sheath hung to
it such as seamen wear, and the knife from the latter gleamed in his wet
hand. He, however, dropped it upon the deck, and squatted on the
water-ledge that rose a foot beneath the door. Austin watched him
quietly, for he was, at least, not afraid of Funnel-paint.
"What the devil do you want?" he said.
"Halluf them gum," said the negro, with a wicked grin.
"How are we to give it you when we haven't found a bag of it?"
The negro grinned again. "S'pose I done tell you where him lib?"
"If you knew why didn't you get it for yourself?"
Funnel-paint shook his head. "Them book I got savvy--I no savvy make him
tell me," he said. "You dash me halluf them gum you get them book."
Austin lay silent, resting on one elbow, for a moment or two. He knew
that book means anything which is written on in that country, and it
occurred to him that if the gum had been hidden ashore, it was very
probable that the man who buried it had made a rough sketch or other
record of the spot. The document, it was conceivable, might have come
into the negro's possession. Still, he was suspicious.
"There's another boy who speaks English in the headman's village," he
said.
"Him only dam bushman--no savvy book, no savvy anyt'ing. Him them
headman's boy. Headman he want everyt'ing."
"Ah!" said Austin, who was more dubious about his visitor's good faith
than ever, since it was clear that it was his intention to trick his
confederate out of his share of the plunder. "I suppose, since you swam
off, you haven't the book about you?"
The negro let one eyelid droop a little. "You t'ink black man one dam
fool?"
"No," said Austin, reflectively, "if you understand me, I should rather
call you an infernal rogue. Any way, you lib for get out one time, and
come back to-morrow. I'll palaver with them other white man by then,
savvy?"
Funnel-paint unobtrusively laid a wet prehensile toe upon the haft of
the knife, but Austin, who was careful not to betray the fact, noticed
it.
"Them other white man he do go dash me anyt'ing," he said decisively. "I
savvy him. S'pose you done tell him you no go catch them book?"
"Then how do you fancy I'm going to give you half the gum without his
knowing?"
Funnel-paint grinned unpleasantly. "Bimeby them white cappy man he die,"
he said, as though he were sure of it. "White man sick too much in dis
country. I savvy."
Austin contrived to hold in check the indignant wrath he felt. A man's
life, he was quite aware, was worth very little in those swamps; and,
because he placed some small value on the one that belonged to him, it
was evidently advisable to proceed circumspectly. Funnel-paint was, he
recognised, a diplomatist in his way, and had said very little, though
that was sufficient to show Austin what his proposition meant. It was,
at least, clear that he was to ask no questions if anything unexpected
happened to Jefferson, and in reward of this he would be permitted to
carry off half the gum. It appeared that Funnel-paint was sure of its
existence, or he would never have ventured to creep on board at night at
all, and Austin decided that since he certainly could not be trusted,
the boldest course was best. The rage he felt also prompted him to it,
and he lay still, considering, with a hand beneath the pillow, and a
flush in his face, while the negro squatted, huge and motionless, on the
door-ledge, watching him with a little cunning smile. It seemed to
Austin that it would simplify matters considerably if he could secure
Funnel-paint's person, though he could not quite see how it was to be
done, especially since it was evident that the negro would be no use to
them dead.
In the meanwhile there was deep stillness without, intensified by the
oily gurgle of the creek, until Austin fancied he heard another faint
and stealthy sound on deck. Funnel-paint did not appear to notice it,
which was, it seemed to Austin, significant, for he sat still, though
with a scarcely perceptible motion he drew the knife a little nearer to
him with his toe. Austin decided that the proposition he had made was,
after all, probably a blind, and the friends he had expected were now
arriving.
"Keep still!" he said abruptly, whipping out the pistol.
The negro started, and would apparently have fallen backwards in his
alarm had he not seized the edge of the cushion on the settee in a wet
hand. Then he gazed at Austin as though in bewilderment or
consternation.
"Bushman lib!" he said.
He glanced towards the open ring of the port, and for a second Austin
turned his eyes in the same direction, but that was long enough, for the
big cushion of the settee fell upon his head, and he rolled over under
it. It was a moment or two before he had flung it from him and sprung
out of his berth, and then there was no sign of Funnel-paint, though he
could hear a rush of feet and the sound of a scuffle on deck. They were
also booted feet, and Austin ran out into the black darkness beneath the
poop. He could see nothing for a moment, but he heard a hoarse
ejaculation that was followed by a splash in the creek. Then a shadowy
figure grew out of the blackness, and he dropped the pistol to his side
at the sound of an English voice.
"All right, Mr. Austin?" it said.
"I am," said Austin. "Is that you, Bill?"
The half-seen man assured him that it was, and then followed him back
into the lighted room, where he sat down and held up a hand from which a
red trickle dripped down his arm.
"The dam brute's got away," he said. "P'r'aps you could fix this up for
me."
Austin lugged a little chest out from under the settee, and glanced at
the injured hand. "Nothing serious, though I have no doubt it stings,"
he said. "You were in one sense lucky in getting it there. How did you
happen to come along?"
"It was my watch," said Bill. "I had just come down from the bridge-deck
when I thought I heard talking, and that brought me here as quietly as I
could. If I'd had the sense to take my boots off I'd have had him. I
gripped him by the rail, but he shoved the knife into my hand and slung
himself over."
Austin bound his hand up, and then looked at him thoughtfully.
"I don't think there's anything to be gained by letting the others
know," he said. "Any way, I'd consider it a favour if you said nothing
about the thing until I've talked it over with Mr. Jefferson."
Bill grinned comprehendingly. "I'll tell Tom, but nobody else. We have
our own little row with the vermin, and the next time I get my grip on
him there'll be an end of him!"
He went out, and by and by Austin contrived to go to sleep, while it was
next day, and they sat in the dripping engine room, from which the water
was sinking, when he told Jefferson what had passed. The latter listened
thoughtfully, and then broke into a little hollow laugh.
"It seems to me that you missed your chance," he said. "Funnel-paint
knows a good deal--I have guessed that for some time--but he has found
out he can't get at the gum without one of us helping him, at last. That
is probably why he has left us alone so long. He wasn't sure whether
there was any of it on board the ship, and was, naturally, willing that
we should decide that point for him."
"What would he gain by that?" asked Austin.
"The gum!" and Jefferson laughed again, but not pleasantly. "He's an
inconsequent devil, but he seems to have scraped up a little sense as he
went on with the game. You see, white men are apt to die off suddenly in
this country, and I scarcely think that anybody who could make trouble
knows we're here. Any way, there's no unusual need for worry. It only
means double watches."
"Still, one could fancy you had a good deal on your mind."
"I have. We have stripped this ship all but the engine room to the
ballast tanks--there was, you may remember, a manhole lid lifted on the
forward one, which may account for some of the water getting in--and the
five hundred dollars I raised the offer to hasn't produced a pound of
gum. Half the men are down now, and we can't send them all away, while
even if we wanted to they're most of them unwilling to go. They're as
keen on their share--and it's quite a big one--as I am. Then we'll have
the rains on us in a week or two."
Austin sat silent awhile. He knew that the feverish search for the
treasure had stirred the cupidity of the Latins until they were as
determined on finding it as their leader. Nothing else was thought of,
the sick men raved of it, and, in any case, those who had held out so
long and staunchly had their percentage on the value of the steamer's
hull and cargo to gain. It meant comparative affluence to the barefooted
sailormen. That, however, was only one side of the question, after all,
for while their willingness was evident, their physical capacity for
work was lessening every day.
"The rains will flood every beach," he said. "If we don't find the gum
before they come, what then?"
"If it's necessary, we'll stay here until the water falls again. That
is, at least, some of us will."
Austin rose up slowly with a little sign of comprehension. Two men had
been buried while he was away, and he did not think that many of them
would be left there to see the waters fall.