CAPTAIN SANTOSA VISITS HIS SUPERIOR OFFICER
Hemming got back to the village in time to change and dine with the
family. The President's mind was otherwhere than at the table. He
would look about the room, staring at the shadows beyond the
candle-light, as if seeking something. He pushed the claret past
him, and ordered rye whiskey. His kind face showed lines unknown to
it a month before. Mrs. Tetson watched him anxiously. Marion and
the commander-in-chief talked together like well-tried comrades,
laughing sometimes, but for the most part serious. Marion was paler
than of old, but none the less beautiful for that. Her eyes were
brighter, with a light that seemed to burn far back in them, steady
and tender. Her lips were ever on the verge of smiling. Hemming
told her all of his interview with the peasant woman, and part of his
interview with Scott.
"There will be trouble soon," he said.
She begged him not to stir it up until Valentine was well enough to
have a finger in it.
"You may not think him very clever," she said, "but even you will
admit that he shoots straight, and has courage."
"I will admit anything in his favour," replied Hemming, "but as for
his shooting, why, thank Heaven, I have never tested it."
"Wasn't he very rude to you one night?" she asked.
He laughed quietly. "The circumstances warranted it, but he was rude
to the wrong person, don't you think?"
"No, indeed," she cried, "for no matter how minus a quantity your
guilt, or how full of fault I had been, it would never have done for
him to threaten me with a--" She paused.
"Service revolver?" said Hemming, "and one of my own at that."
"Fever is a terrible thing," she said, gazing at the red heart of the
claret.
"My dear sister," said the Englishman, "a man would gladly suffer
more to win less."
They smiled frankly into one another's eyes.
"Then you do not think too badly of me?" she asked.
"I think everything that is jolly--of both of you," he replied.
"I like your friendship," she said, "for, though you seem such a good
companion, I do not believe you give it lightly."
After the coffee and an aimless talk with Tetson, Hemming looked in
at Hicks and found him drinking chicken broth as if he liked it. The
invalid was strong enough to manage the spoon himself, but Marion
held the bowl. Hemming went to his own room, turned on the light
above his desk, and began to write. He worked steadily until ten
o'clock. Then he walked up and down the room for awhile, rolling and
smoking cigarettes. The old ambition had him in its clutches.
Pernamba, with its heat, its dulness, its love and hate, had faded
away. Now he played a bigger game--a game for the world rather than
for half a battalion of little brown soldiers. A knock sounded on
his door, and, before he could answer it, Captain Santosa, glorious
in his white and gold, stepped into the room. The sight of the
Brazilian brought his dreams to the dust. "Damn," he said, under his
breath.
Then he waved his subordinate to a seat.
The captain's manner was as courteous as ever, his smile as urbane,
his eyes as unfathomable. But his dusky cheek showed an unusual
pallor, and as he sat down he groaned. Hemming eyed him sharply; men
like Santosa do not groan unless they are wounded--maybe in their
pride, by a friend's word, maybe in their vitals by an enemy's knife.
There was no sign of blood on the spotless uniform.
"A drink?" queried Hemming, turning toward the bell.
"Not now," said the captain, "but afterward, if you then offer it to
me." He swallowed hard, looked down at his polished boots, aloft at
the ceiling, and presently at his superior officer's staring
eye-glass. From this he seemed to gather courage.
"I have disturbed you at your rest, at your private work," he said,
with a motion of the hand toward the untidy desk, "but my need is
great. I must choose between disloyalty to my brother officers, and
disloyalty to you and the President. I have chosen, sir, and I now
resign my commission. I will no longer ride and drink and eat with
robbers and liars. It is not work for a gentleman." He paused and
smiled pathetically. "I will go away. There is nothing else for my
father's son to do."
"I heard something of this--no longer ago than to-day," said Hemming.
Santosa lit a cigar and puffed for awhile in silence.
"I winked at it too long," he said, at last, "for I was dreaming of
other things. So that I kept my own hands clean I did not care.
Then you came, and I watched you. I saw that duty was the great
thing, after all--even for a soldier. And I saw that even a
gentleman might earn his pay decently."
Hemming smiled, and polished his eye-glass on the lining of his
dinner-jacket.
"Thank you, old chap. You have a queer way of putting it, but I
catch the idea," he said.
The captain bowed. "I will go away, but not very far, for I would
like to be near, to help you in any trouble. Our dear friend
Valentine, whom I love as a brother, is not yet strong. The
President, whom I honour, is not a fighter, I think. The ladies
should go to the coast."
"You are right," said Hemming, "but do not leave us for a day or two.
I will consider your resignation. Now for a drink."
He rang the bell, and then pulled a chair close to Santosa. When
Smith had gone from the room, leaving the decanter and soda-water
behind him, the two soldiers touched glasses and drank. They were
silent. The Brazilian felt better now, and the Englishman was
thinking too hard to talk. A gust of wind banged the wooden shutters
at the windows. It was followed by a flash of lightning. Then came
the rain, pounding and splashing on the roof, and hammering the palms
in the garden.
"That's sudden," said Hemming.
"Things happen suddenly in this country," replied Santosa.
Hemming leaned back and crossed his legs.
"Have you seen Hicks since the fever bowled him?" he asked.
"No," replied the captain, "no, I have not seen him, but he is my
friend and I wish him well. Is it not through our friends, Hemming,
that we come by our griefs? It has seemed so to me."
Hemming glanced at him quickly, but said nothing. Santosa was a
gentleman, and might safely be allowed to make confessions.
"When I first came here," continued the captain, "I was poor, and the
Brazilian army owed me a whole year's back pay. I had spent much on
clothes and on horses, trying hard to live like my father's son. Mr.
Tetson offered me better pay, and a gayer uniform. I was willing to
play at soldiering, for I saw that some gain might be made from it,
outside the pay. My brother officers saw this also, and we talked of
it often. Then Miss Tetson came to Pernamba. I rode out with her to
show her the country. I told her of my father, and of how, when they
carried him in from the field, they found that the Order of Bolivar
had been driven edgewise through his tunic and into his breast by the
blow of a bullet. And when I saw the look on her face, my pride
grew, but changed in some way, and it seemed to me that the son of
that man should leave thieving and the crushing of the poor to men of
less distinction.
"Sometimes my heart was bitter within me, and my fingers itched for
the feel of Valentine's throat. But I hope I was always polite,
Hemming." He got lightly to his feet, and held out his hand.
"Young ladies talk so in convent-schools," he said.
"Not at all," replied Hemming, gravely, "and I can assure you that
your attitude toward all concerned has left nothing to be desired. I
will look you up at your quarters after breakfast."
Captain Santosa went through the gardens, humming a Spanish
love-song. He turned near a fountain and looked up at a lighted
window. His white uniform gleamed in the scented dusk. He kissed
his finger-tips to the window. "The end of that dream," he said,
lightly, and his eyes were as unfathomable as ever. The water
dripped heavily on to the gold of his uniform.
Hemming went in search of the President, and found him in the
billiard-room, idly knocking the balls about with a rasping cue.
"Have a game, like a good chap," urged the great man.
The commander-in-chief shook his head.
"Not now, sir. I came to tell you something about the army," he
replied. He was shocked at Tetson's sudden pallor. The yellow cigar
was dropped from nerveless fingers and smeared a white trail of ash
across the green cloth.
"What do they want?" asked Tetson, in a husky voice.
"Oh, they take whatever they want," replied Hemming; "the taxes that
are due you, and something besides from the unprotected." Then he
retailed the case of the poor woman. When he had finished Tetson did
not speak immediately. His benevolent face wore an expression that
cut Hemming to the heart.
"I must think it over," he said, wearily, "I must think it over."