the idea that the missionary was mysteriously at work. He had an
impression that he was weaving a net around the woman, carefully,
systematically, and suddenly, when everything was ready would pull the
strings tight.
"He told me to tell her," said the trader, "that if at any time she
wanted him she only had to send and he'd come."
"What did she say when you told her that?"
"She didn't say nothing. I didn't stop. I just said what he said I was
to and then I beat it. I thought she might be going to start weepin'."
"I have no doubt the loneliness is getting on her nerves," said the
doctor. "And the rain--that's enough to make anyone jumpy," he continued
irritably. "Doesn't it ever stop in this confounded place?"
"It goes on pretty steady in the rainy season. We have three hundred
inches in the year. You see, it's the shape of the bay. It seems to
attract the rain from all over the Pacific."
"Damn the shape of the bay," said the doctor.
He scratched his mosquito bites. He felt very short-tempered. When the
rain stopped and the sun shone, it was like a hothouse, seething, humid,
sultry, breathless, and you had a strange feeling that everything was
growing with a savage violence. The natives, blithe and childlike by
reputation, seemed then, with their tattooing and their dyed hair, to
have something sinister in their appearance; and when they pattered
along at your heels with their naked feet you looked back instinctively.
You felt they might at any moment come behind you swiftly and thrust a
long knife between your shoulder blades. You could not tell what dark
thoughts lurked behind their wide-set eyes. They had a little the look
of ancient Egyptians painted on a temple wall, and there was about them
the terror of what is immeasurably old.
The missionary came and went. He was busy, but the Macphails did not
know what he was doing. Horn told the doctor that he saw the governor
every day, and once Davidson mentioned him.
"He looks as if he had plenty of determination," he said, "but when you
come down to brass tacks he has no backbone."
"I suppose that means he won't do exactly what you want," suggested the
doctor facetiously.
The missionary did not smile.
"I want him to do what's right. It shouldn't be necessary to persuade a
man to do that."
"But there may be differences of opinion about what is right."
"If a man had a gangrenous foot would you have patience with anyone who
hesitated to amputate it?"
"Gangrene is a matter of fact."
"And Evil?"
What Davidson had done soon appeared. The four of them had just finished
their midday meal, and they had not yet separated for the siesta which
the heat imposed on the ladies and on the doctor. Davidson had little
patience with the slothful habit. The door was suddenly flung open and
Miss Thompson came in. She looked round the room and then went up to
Davidson.
"You low-down skunk, what have you been saying about me to the
governor?"
She was spluttering with rage. There was a moment's pause. Then the
missionary drew forward a chair.
"Won't you be seated, Miss Thompson? I've been hoping to have another
talk with you."
"You poor low-life bastard."
She burst into a torrent of insult, foul and insolent. Davidson kept his
grave eyes on her.
"I'm indifferent to the abuse you think fit to heap on me, Miss
Thompson," he said, "but I must beg you to remember that ladies are
present."
Tears by now were struggling with her anger. Her face was red and
swollen as though she were choking.
"What has happened?" asked Dr Macphail.
"A feller's just been in here and he says I gotter beat it on the next
boat."
Was there a gleam in the missionary's eyes? His face remained impassive.
"You could hardly expect the governor to let you stay here under the
circumstances."
"You done it," she shrieked. "You can't kid me. You done it."
"I don't want to deceive you. I urged the governor to take the only
possible step consistent with his obligations."
"Why couldn't you leave me be? I wasn't doin' you no harm."
"You may be sure that if you had I should be the last man to resent it."
"Do you think I want to stay on in this poor imitation of a burg? I
don't look no busher, do I?"
"In that case I don't see what cause of complaint you have," he
answered.
She gave an inarticulate cry of rage and flung out of the room. There
was a short silence.
"It's a relief to know that the governor has acted at last," said
Davidson finally. "He's a weak man and he shilly-shallied. He said she
was only here for a fortnight anyway, and if she went on to Apia that
was under British jurisdiction and had nothing to do with him."
The missionary sprang to his feet and strode across the room.
"It's terrible the way the men who are in authority seek to evade their
responsibility. They speak as though evil that was out of sight ceased
to be evil. The very existence of that woman is a scandal and it does
not help matters to shift it to another of the islands. In the end I had
to speak straight from the shoulder."
Davidson's brow lowered, and he protruded his firm chin. He looked
fierce and determined.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Our mission is not entirely without influence at Washington. I pointed
out to the governor that it wouldn't do him any good if there was a
complaint about the way he managed things here."
"When has she got to go?" asked the doctor, after a pause.
"The San Francisco boat is due here from Sydney next Tuesday. She's to
sail on that."
That was in five days' time. It was next day, when he was coming back
from the hospital where for want of something better to do Macphail
spent most of his mornings, that the half-caste stopped him as he was
going upstairs.
"Excuse me, Dr Macphail, Miss Thompson's sick. Will you have a look at
her."
"Certainly."
Horn led him to her room. She was sitting in a chair idly, neither
reading nor sewing, staring in front of her. She wore her white dress
and the large hat with the flowers on it. Macphail noticed that her skin
was yellow and muddy under her powder, and her eyes were heavy.
"I'm sorry to hear you're not well," he said.
"Oh, I ain't sick really. I just said that, because I just had to see
you. I've got to clear on a boat that's going to 'Frisco."
She looked at him and he saw that her eyes were suddenly startled. She
opened and clenched her hands spasmodically. The trader stood at the
door, listening.
"So I understand," said the doctor.
She gave a little gulp.
"I guess it ain't very convenient for me to go to 'Frisco just now. I
went to see the governor yesterday afternoon, but I couldn't get to him.
I saw the secretary, and he told me I'd got to take that boat and that
was all there was to it. I just had to see the governor, so I waited
outside his house this morning, and when he come out I spoke to him. He
didn't want to speak to me, I'll say, but I wouldn't let him shake me
off, and at last he said he hadn't no objection to my staying here till
the next boat to Sydney if the Rev. Davidson will stand for it."
She stopped and looked at Dr Macphail anxiously.
"I don't know exactly what I can do," he said.
"Well, I thought maybe you wouldn't mind asking him. I swear to God I
won't start anything here if he'll just only let me stay. I won't go out
of the house if that'll suit him. It's no more'n a fortnight."
"I'll ask him."
"He won't stand for it," said Horn. "He'll have you out on Tuesday, so
you may as well make up your mind to it."
"Tell him I can get work in Sydney, straight stuff, I mean. 'Tain't
asking very much."
"I'll do what I can."
"And come and tell me right away, will you? I can't set down to a thing
till I get the dope one way or the other."
It was not an errand that much pleased the doctor, and,
characteristically perhaps, he went about it indirectly. He told his
wife what Miss Thompson had said to him and asked her to speak to Mrs
Davidson. The missionary's attitude seemed rather arbitrary and it could
do no harm if the girl were allowed to stay in Pago-Pago another
fortnight. But he was not prepared for the result of his diplomacy. The
missionary came to him straightway.
"Mrs Davidson tells me that Thompson has been speaking to you."
Dr Macphail, thus directly tackled, had the shy man's resentment at
being forced out into the open. He felt his temper rising, and he
flushed.
"I don't see that it can make any difference if she goes to Sydney
rather than to San Francisco, and so long as she promises to behave
while she's here it's dashed hard to persecute her."
The missionary fixed him with his stern eyes.
"Why is she unwilling to go back to San Francisco?"
"I didn't enquire," answered the doctor with some asperity. "And I think
one does better to mind one's own business."
Perhaps it was not a very tactful answer.
"The governor has ordered her to be deported by the first boat that
leaves the island. He's only done his duty and I will not interfere. Her
presence is a peril here."
"I think you're very harsh and tyrannical."
The two ladies looked up at the doctor with some alarm, but they need
not have feared a quarrel, for the missionary smiled gently.
"I'm terribly sorry you should think that of me, Dr Macphail. Believe
me, my heart bleeds for that unfortunate woman, but I'm only trying to
do my duty."
The doctor made no answer. He looked out of the window sullenly. For
once it was not raining and across the bay you saw nestling among the
trees the huts of a native village.
"I think I'll take advantage of the rain stopping to go out," he said.
"Please don't bear me malice because I can't accede to your wish," said
Davidson, with a melancholy smile. "I respect you very much, doctor, and
I should be sorry if you thought ill of me."
"I have no doubt you have a sufficiently good opinion of yourself to
bear mine with equanimity," he retorted.
"That's one on me," chuckled Davidson.
When Dr Macphail, vexed with himself because he had been uncivil to no
purpose, went downstairs, Miss Thompson was waiting for him with her
door ajar.
"Well," she said, "have you spoken to him?"
"Yes, I'm sorry, he won't do anything," he answered, not looking at her
in his embarrassment.
But then he gave her a quick glance, for a sob broke from her. He saw
that her face was white with fear. It gave him a shock of dismay. And
suddenly he had an idea.
"But don't give up hope yet. I think it's a shame the way they're
treating you and I'm going to see the governor myself."
"Now?"
He nodded. Her face brightened.
"Say, that's real good of you. I'm sure he'll let me stay if you speak
for me. I just won't do a thing I didn't ought all the time I'm here."
Dr Macphail hardly knew why he had made up his mind to appeal to the
governor. He was perfectly indifferent to Miss Thompson's affairs, but
the missionary had irritated him, and with him temper was a smouldering
thing. He found the governor at home. He was a large, handsome man, a
sailor, with a grey toothbrush moustache; and he wore a spotless uniform
of white drill.
"I've come to see you about a woman who's lodging in the same house as
we are," he said. "Her name's Thompson."
"I guess I've heard nearly enough about her, Dr Macphail," said the
governor, smiling. "I've given her the order to get out next Tuesday and
that's all I can do."
"I wanted to ask you if you couldn't stretch a point and let her stay
here till the boat comes in from San Francisco so that she can go to
Sydney. I will guarantee her good behaviour."
The governor continued to smile, but his eyes grew small and serious.
"I'd be very glad to oblige you, Dr Macphail, but I've given the order
and it must stand."
The doctor put the case as reasonably as he could, but now the governor
ceased to smile at all. He listened sullenly, with averted gaze.
Macphail saw that he was making no impression.
"I'm sorry to cause any lady inconvenience, but she'll have to sail on
Tuesday and that's all there is to it."
"But what difference can it make?"
"Pardon me, doctor, but I don't feel called upon to explain my official
actions except to the proper authorities."
Macphail looked at him shrewdly. He remembered Davidson's hint that he
had used threats, and in the governor's attitude he read a singular
embarrassment.
"Davidson's a damned busybody," he said hotly.
"Between ourselves, Dr Macphail, I don't say that I have formed a very
favourable opinion of Mr Davidson, but I am bound to confess that he
was within his rights in pointing out to me the danger that the presence
of a woman of Miss Thompson's character was to a place like this where a
number of enlisted men are stationed among a native population."
He got up and Dr Macphail was obliged to do so too.
"I must ask you to excuse me. I have an engagement. Please give my
respects to Mrs Macphail."
The doctor left him crest-fallen. He knew that Miss Thompson would be
waiting for him, and unwilling to tell her himself that he had failed,
he went into the house by the back door and sneaked up the stairs as
though he had something to hide.
At supper he was silent and ill-at-ease, but the missionary was jovial
and animated. Dr Macphail thought his eyes rested on him now and then
with triumphant good-humour. It struck him suddenly that Davidson knew
of his visit to the governor and of its ill success. But how on earth
could he have heard of it? There was something sinister about the power
of that man. After supper he saw Horn on the verandah and, as though to
have a casual word with him, went out.
"She wants to know if you've seen the governor," the trader whispered.
"Yes. He wouldn't do anything. I'm awfully sorry, I can't do anything
more."
"I knew he wouldn't. They daren't go against the missionaries."
"What are you talking about?" said Davidson affably, coming out to join
them.
"I was just saying there was no chance of your getting over to Apia for
at least another week," said the trader glibly.
He left them, and the two men returned into the parlour. Mr Davidson
devoted one hour after each meal to recreation. Presently a timid knock
was heard at the door.
"Come in," said Mrs Davidson, in her sharp voice.
The door was not opened. She got up and opened it. They saw Miss
Thompson standing at the threshold. But the change in her appearance was
extraordinary. This was no longer the flaunting hussy who had jeered at
them in the road, but a broken, frightened woman. Her hair, as a rule so
elaborately arranged, was tumbling untidily over her neck. She wore
bedroom slippers and a skirt and blouse. They were unfresh and
bedraggled. She stood at the door with the tears streaming down her face
and did not dare to enter.
"What do you want?" said Mrs Davidson harshly.
"May I speak to Mr Davidson?" she said in a choking voice.
The missionary rose and went towards her.
"Come right in, Miss Thompson," he said in cordial tones. "What can I do
for you?"
She entered the room.
"Say, I'm sorry for what I said to you the other day an' for--for
everythin' else. I guess I was a bit lit up. I beg pardon."
"Oh, it was nothing. I guess my back's broad enough to bear a few hard
words."
She stepped towards him with a movement that was horribly cringing.
"You've got me beat. I'm all in. You won't make me go back to 'Frisco?"
His genial manner vanished and his voice grew on a sudden hard and
stern.
"Why don't you want to go back there?"
She cowered before him.
"I guess my people live there. I don't want them to see me like this.
I'll go anywhere else you say."
"Why don't you want to go back to San Francisco?"
"I've told you."
He leaned forward, staring at her, and his great, shining eyes seemed to
try to bore into her soul. He gave a sudden gasp.
"The penitentiary."
She screamed, and then she fell at his feet, clasping his legs.
"Don't send me back there. I swear to you before God I'll be a good
woman. I'll give all this up."
She burst into a torrent of confused supplication and the tears coursed
down her painted cheeks. He leaned over her and, lifting her face,
forced her to look at him.
"Is that it, the penitentiary?"
"I beat it before they could get me," she gasped. "If the bulls grab me
it's three years for mine."
He let go his hold of her and she fell in a heap on the floor, sobbing
bitterly. Dr Macphail stood up.
"This alters the whole thing," he said. "You can't make her go back when
you know this. Give her another chance. She wants to turn over a new
leaf."
"I'm going to give her the finest chance she's ever had. If she repents
let her accept her punishment."
She misunderstood the words and looked up. There was a gleam of hope in
her heavy eyes.
"You'll let me go?"
"No. You shall sail for San Francisco on Tuesday."
She gave a groan of horror and then burst into low, hoarse shrieks which
sounded hardly human, and she beat her head passionately on the ground.
Dr Macphail sprang to her and lifted her up.
"Come on, you mustn't do that. You'd better go to your room and lie
down. I'll get you something."
He raised her to her feet and partly dragging her, partly carrying her,
got her downstairs. He was furious with Mrs Davidson and with his wife
because they made no effort to help. The half-caste was standing on the
landing and with his assistance he managed to get her on the bed. She
was moaning and crying. She was almost insensible. He gave her a
hypodermic injection. He was hot and exhausted when he went upstairs
again.
"I've got her to lie down."
The two women and Davidson were in the same positions as when he had
left them. They could not have moved or spoken since he went.
"I was waiting for you," said Davidson, in a strange, distant voice. "I
want you all to pray with me for the soul of our erring sister."
He took the Bible off a shelf, and sat down at the table at which they
had supped. It had not been cleared, and he pushed the tea-pot out of
the way. In a powerful voice, resonant and deep, he read to them the
chapter in which is narrated the meeting of Jesus Christ with the woman
taken in adultery.
"Now kneel with me and let us pray for the soul of our dear sister,
Sadie Thompson."
He burst into a long, passionate prayer in which he implored God to have
mercy on the sinful woman. Mrs Macphail and Mrs Davidson knelt with
covered eyes. The doctor, taken by surprise, awkward and sheepish, knelt
too. The missionary's prayer had a savage eloquence. He was
extraordinarily moved, and as he spoke the tears ran down his cheeks.
Outside, the pitiless rain fell, fell steadily, with a fierce malignity
that was all too human.
At last he stopped. He paused for a moment and said:
"We will now repeat the Lord's prayer."
They said it and then; following him, they rose from their knees. Mrs
Davidson's face was pale and restful. She was comforted and at peace,
but the Macphails felt suddenly bashful. They did not know which way to
look.
"I'll just go down and see how she is now," said Dr Macphail.
When he knocked at her door it was opened for him by Horn. Miss Thompson
was in a rocking-chair, sobbing quietly.
"What are you doing there?" exclaimed Macphail. "I told you to lie
down."
"I can't lie down. I want to see Mr Davidson."
"My poor child, what do you think is the good of it? You'll never move
him."
"He said he'd come if I sent for him."
Macphail motioned to the trader.
"Go and fetch him."
He waited with her in silence while the trader went upstairs. Davidson
came in.
"Excuse me for asking you to come here," she said, looking at him
sombrely.
"I was expecting you to send for me. I knew the Lord would answer my
prayer."
They stared at one another for a moment and then she looked away. She
kept her eyes averted when she spoke.
"I've been a bad woman. I want to repent."
"Thank God! thank God! He has heard our prayers."
He turned to the two men.
"Leave me alone with her. Tell Mrs Davidson that our prayers have been
answered."
They went out and closed the door behind them.
"Gee whizz," said the trader.
That night Dr Macphail could not get to sleep till late, and when he
heard the missionary come upstairs he looked at his watch. It was two
o'clock. But even then he did not go to bed at once, for through the
wooden partition that separated their rooms he heard him praying aloud,
till he himself, exhausted, fell asleep.
When he saw him next morning he was surprised at his appearance. He was
paler than ever, tired, but his eyes shone with an inhuman fire. It
looked as though he were filled with an overwhelming joy.
"I want you to go down presently and see Sadie," he said. "I can't hope
that her body is better, but her soul--her soul is transformed."
The doctor was feeling wan and nervous.
"You were with her very late last night," he said.
"Yes, she couldn't bear to have me leave her."
"You look as pleased as Punch," the doctor said irritably.
Davidson's eyes shone with ecstasy.
"A great mercy has been vouchsafed me. Last night I was privileged to
bring a lost soul to the loving arms of Jesus."
Miss Thompson was again in the rocking-chair. The bed had not been made.
The room was in disorder. She had not troubled to dress herself, but
wore a dirty dressing-gown, and her hair was tied in a sluttish knot.
She had given her face a dab with a wet towel, but it was all swollen
and creased with crying. She looked a drab.
She raised her eyes dully when the doctor came in. She was cowed and
broken.
"Where's Mr Davidson?" she asked.
"He'll come presently if you want him," answered Macphail acidly. "I
came here to see how you were."
"Oh, I guess I'm O. K. You needn't worry about that."
"Have you had anything to eat?"
"Horn brought me some coffee."
She looked anxiously at the door.
"D'you think he'll come down soon? I feel as if it wasn't so terrible
when he's with me."
"Are you still going on Tuesday?"
"Yes, he says I've got to go. Please tell him to come right along. You
can't do me any good. He's the only one as can help me now."
"Very well," said Dr Macphail.
During the next three days the missionary spent almost all his time with
Sadie Thompson. He joined the others only to have his meals. Dr Macphail
noticed that he hardly ate.
"He's wearing himself out," said Mrs Davidson pitifully. "He'll have a
breakdown if he doesn't take care, but he won't spare himself."
She herself was white and pale. She told Mrs Macphail that she had no
sleep. When the missionary came upstairs from Miss Thompson he prayed
till he was exhausted, but even then he did not sleep for long. After an
hour or two he got up and dressed himself, and went for a tramp along
the bay. He had strange dreams.
"This morning he told me that he'd been dreaming about the mountains of
Nebraska," said Mrs Davidson.
"That's curious," said Dr Macphail.
He remembered seeing them from the windows of the train when he crossed
America. They were like huge mole-hills, rounded and smooth, and they
rose from the plain abruptly. Dr Macphail remembered how it struck him
that they were like a woman's breasts.
Davidson's restlessness was intolerable even to himself. But he was
buoyed up by a wonderful exhilaration. He was tearing out by the roots
the last vestiges of sin that lurked in the hidden corners of that poor
woman's heart. He read with her and prayed with her.
"It's wonderful," he said to them one day at supper. "It's a true
rebirth. Her soul, which was black as night, is now pure and white like
the new-fallen snow. I am humble and afraid. Her remorse for all her
sins is beautiful. I am not worthy to touch the hem of her garment."
"Have you the heart to send her back to San Francisco?" said the doctor.
"Three years in an American prison. I should have thought you might have
saved her from that."
"Ah, but don't you see? It's necessary. Do you think my heart doesn't
bleed for her? I love her as I love my wife and my sister. All the time
that she is in prison I shall suffer all the pain that she suffers."
"Bunkum," cried the doctor impatiently.
"You don't understand because you're blind. She's sinned, and she must
suffer. I know what she'll endure. She'll be starved and tortured and
humiliated. I want her to accept the punishment of man as a sacrifice to
God. I want her to accept it joyfully. She has an opportunity which is
offered to very few of us. God is very good and very merciful."
Davidson's voice trembled with excitement. He could hardly articulate
the words that tumbled passionately from his lips.