WYNDHAM TRIES PERSUASION
The moon had not risen and thick mist drifted past the schooner before
the hot land-breeze. Marston was talking to Wyndham in the cabin, but
stopped when something bumped against the vessel's side.
"What's that?" he asked sharply.
"A canoe, I think," said Wyndham, and both listened.
Marston wanted to run up on deck, but did not. Since his adventure on
the flat had rather shaken his nerve, he meant to use some control. For
a few moments they heard nothing and then the sliding hatch rattled, as
if somebody pulled it back. Marston thought it significant that none of
the crew had challenged the stranger. The hatch opened and the old
mulatto came down. He did not squat on the deck, as he had done before,
but sat, like a white man, on the side locker.
"Give me a drink; you know my taste," he said, and Marston noticed that
he spoke good English.
Wyndham gave him some old brandy and he drank with leisurely enjoyment.
Although he wore ragged and dirty cotton and his legs were bare, it was
obvious that Rupert Wyndham had now done with pretense.
"I'm your guest," he said to Wyndham. "Perhaps it's not good manners,
but I'd sooner Mr. Marston left us alone."
"Bob's my partner; I think we'll let him stay," Wyndham replied. "All
that interests me interests him."
Rupert shrugged. "It looks as if you had given him your confidence."
"He knows who you are."
"Oh, well!" said Rupert. "You sent for me. I don't know if I approve the
form of the invitation you gave my servant."
"Something like _le Majeste_?" Wyndham suggested.
"Something like that," said Rupert with a touch of dryness. "After all,
I'm king _de facto_ in the bush."
"Then I think you ought to be content," Wyndham rejoined. "The republic
is forced to challenge a king _de jure_."
Rupert looked at him with half-closed, bloodshot eyes, and Marston
thought his face was now like a negro's. After all, his civilized talk
and manners were a mask; the fellow was a negro underneath.
"We'll talk about this again," he said in a careless voice. "You seem to
have got scrupulous since you went home. Is it a prudish girl's
influence or your partner's?"
"My wife's, for the most part. If you take it for granted that I agree,
it will clear the ground."
"Ah,"--said Rupert, frowning, "it looks as if I were foolish when I
helped you to marry. Perhaps I forgot--it's long since I studied things
from the white man's point of view and women don't count in the bush.
They are toys and don't make rules for their lovers."
"Unless human nature's different in the jungle, I expect some do so,"
Marston remarked.
"Their end is generally sudden," said Rupert, with grim humor. Then he
turned to Wyndham. "I promised to make you rich. Have I cheated you?"
"No. In a sense, you have kept your promise; but, for all that, I was
cheated. My reward vanished when I got it."
Rupert gave him a mocking smile. "Sometimes it happens so, but this is
your affair and we will not philosophize. You made a bargain and got the
goods, for which you must pay."
"I'm willing to pay. We have brought a load of stuff that has a standard
value in the bush. If this won't satisfy you, I've paid a sum to your
account at my bank. You can draw it when you like."
"Neither plan will do. I don't want trade rubbish and money is not much
use. I need the goods I expected you to bring. If you refuse to supply
me, you miss a chance you will not get again."
"I'm not sure that to seize the chance would be a very sound
speculation," Wyndham rejoined in a thoughtful voice.
Marston looked hard at him. Harry's manner almost hinted that he was
hesitating, but this was unthinkable. Rupert, however, smiled.
"You are a tactful fellow! You want me to state things plainly in order
to persuade you? Well, I will be frank, and if I can banish your
scruples, so much the better. We are relations and ought not to be
enemies----"
Rupert paused for a moment or two and then went on: "I sent you rare
goods--that sell for high prices in England, but so far I have not sent
you the best. There are plants in the swamps for which doctors and
chemists would give very much. A few of my people know where they can be
found, but I am perhaps the only man who knows how the essences can be
distilled. After all, I am not a magician for nothing."
"There is not much modern chemists do not know," Marston interposed.
"Your manufacturing chemists have not got the plants," said Rupert
dryly. "The finished product is scarce and valuable; I have the
knowledge that can bring the raw material to the distilling retorts.
Well, if I use this knowledge, I make my charge, and I have offered my
nephew a generous share."
"On some conditions, to which I can't agree," Wyndham rejoined. "Your
secret is worth money, but you can use it in one of two ways. You mean
to smuggle the stuff into England in small quantities at a monopoly
price; I think the other line would pay you better. Ship all you can,
develop the trade openly, and although the price will drop and you may
have rivals, the sums paid will be large and you will be first on the
ground."
Rupert gave him an ironical smile. "You are rather obvious, Harry. You
want me to come out of my seclusion and engage in conventional trade. I
see drawbacks. In six months, English, American, and German buyers would
overrun the country, touting for business. The country's mine and my
people will not let white men get control. We are satisfied with the
old rules and don't want tram-roads, clearings, and factories. In fact,
we don't mean to be exploited for the advantage of Larrinaga's greedy
politicians, who'd sell the foreigners trading privileges for bribes."
He stopped and drained his glass, and there was silence for a minute or
two. Wyndham understood his uncle and rather sympathized. Independence
and liberty to follow one's bent were worth much; one would not change
them carelessly for the commercialism that gave a man no choice but to
work by rule or starve. Marston, however, was puzzled and presently
remarked:
"Clearings would let in some light, which the country needs."
"The light your industrial civilization gives is dim. I and the others
would sooner have the dark. You hate the shadowy world because you do
not know it; I have lived in it long."
"How have you lived?" Marston asked. "You are a white man and it's plain
you have unusual gifts. Yet you're satisfied to skulk about the swamps
in dirt and rags, cheating superstitious brutes by conjuring tricks! The
thing's unthinkable."
Rupert looked at him with the smile Marston hated. It was malevolent and
mocked his philosophy.
"Some of the tricks are clever; they have puzzled you. We will not argue
whether all are tricks or not. Anyhow, the clever impostor is a common
type. Men who claim magic power direct your company-floating and
manipulate your politics; but perhaps it's among primitive people the
fakir has most influence. In the bush, I'm high-priest, and something of
a prophet."
"You claim to be king," said Wyndham, very dryly. "Prophecy's not
difficult when you rather trust to knowledge your disciples haven't got
than inspiration. No doubt, you make lucky shots, but royalty's another
job. An unacknowledged king must fight for his crown. I want you to
think if you hadn't better give it up."
Marston, looking from one to the other, felt the crisis had come. Both
were calm, but he thought Harry was highly strung. Their glances were
strangely keen; they looked like fencers about to engage. Marston
reflected that Rupert did not know Harry's new plans; nor did he know
Peters meant to meddle.
"Well," said Rupert, "suppose I agree? What have you to offer?"
"Much, I think. Your return to civilized life and the place where you
properly belong. However, we'll be practical. You can resume the
partnership in Wyndhams' that is really yours. I'll give you any just
share to which Bob will consent, and we'll use your knowledge as far as
we can do so lawfully. Our business could be extended and the house
ought to prosper in our joint control."
Rupert laughed. "You offer money! In England, it would buy no power I
have not got, and the things I like I have. We'll let this go. You are
my nephew and perhaps you feel you must be generous; but don't you think
you're rash? Have you forgotten the years I've lived in the dark? Habits
stick. It would be embarrassing if your relation used the manners of a
savage, and I have idiosyncrasies that would give fastidious people a
nasty jolt. Then, since you have married, what about your wife? Women
are rather strict about conventional niceties."
"My wife agrees," Wyndham replied, incautiously.
"To your plans for my reform? Then, you have some plans. You are, so to
speak, missionaries. Well, I imagine Marston is fitter for the job. His
confidence can't be shaken, and he doesn't bother about the other
fellow's point of view. The successful missionary is a fanatic."
"Give the thing up," said Marston, with some sternness. "You're white,
you're English! Come out of the mud!"
Rupert shrugged and turned to Wyndham. "Your partner's staunch, but does
not use much tact. Can you see me ordering smart young clerks, talking
at an old men's club, and amusing your wife's friends in a conventional
drawing-room? If so, your imagination's vivid. I can't see myself." He
laughed, a harsh laugh. "In the bush I rule with power that nobody
challenges."
Wyndham made a sign of resignation, and Marston owned defeat. After all,
he had not expected to persuade the Bat. Then the latter resumed:
"You refuse to supply the goods I need?"
"Yes."
"Then why do you stay and keep your agent at the village?"
"Moreau will not stay long," said Wyndham, and Marston, seeing where
Rupert's question led, wondered how Harry would account for their
haunting the lagoon.
"We came to trade," Wyndham went on. "Although I now see it won't pay
to keep an agent, we must clear off our stock of goods."
"You can't do so without my leave."
"I doubt this," said Wyndham. "Anyhow, we're going to try. It's obvious
you have some power, but a firm rule generally provokes opposition and
we may do some business with the dissatisfied."
Rupert looked hard at him. "You may find the experiment dangerous. On
the whole, my servants are staunch and know the advantage of keeping out
foreigners. Well, this is your affair, and since it's plain we can't
agree, I won't stay."
He got up and while Marston studied him with a touch of horror he seemed
to change, as if he shook off the superficial civilization he had worn.
His lips got thick and stuck out; they looked strangely red and sensual.
His eyes got dull and the colored veins were plainer, and he rubbed one
bare foot with the other's flexible toes. Marston felt he had reverted
to the old mulatto.
"You go dash me them bottle?" he said with a grin.
They let him pick up the bottle of brandy, he climbed the ladder, and
the hatch slid back. There was no noise on deck and they did not hear a
paddle splash, but they knew he had gone. Marston drained his glass and
looked at Wyndham, whose face was rather white. He saw Harry had got a
jar, and said nothing.
After a few moments Wyndham broke out: "At the last, he looked a
half-breed. A trick of pushing out his lips and stretching his nostrils,
perhaps; but one feels he is a half-breed. I think he will never really
be a white man again. He gave no hint of regret for all that he has
lost; it was rather horrible to see he was content."
"He is content, he has done with civilization," said Marston quietly.
"We must remember this."
Wyndham nodded. "From now, we have not to deal with Rupert Wyndham, but
with the Bat. To some extent, it makes the job easier. All the same, we
can't give him up to Larrinaga. It's unlucky we could not have kept him
on board."
"That was impossible. Your asking him to come implied that he was safe.
Besides, we were forced to try persuasion first. Well, we have tried.
What's the next plan?"
"I have none. We must wait."
"Do you think he was satisfied with the grounds we gave for stopping? I
mean, do you imagine he believes we merely want to trade?"
"I don't know," said Wyndham moodily. "Perhaps I made a lucky shot when
I talked about our trading with the opposition. I imagine it touched
him; looks as if there was an opposition. Then I don't suppose he knows
Peters is on our track and his. Well, in the meantime we must use
patience and trust our luck."
He went up on deck and Marston went to bed. For a time he heard
Wyndham's restless tread on the planks above him, and then he went to
sleep.