typical American woman—a frank and ignorant young savage! It was a joy
to be with her, Doctor; a joy to watch the primitive workings of her
mind—and her little efforts at deception I found adorable. She was
transparent as a naughty child——’ He began to blubber.
“‘She appears to have possessed certain rudiments of guile,’ I replied.
‘You have taken too much for granted. A Parisienne would have
understood; the ethical situation was too delicate for an American; she
was too narrow-minded to combine adultery and domestic tranquillity.’
“‘They are so crude, these Americans!’ he wailed. ‘So crude!’
“An extraordinary situation, Doctor, and yet reasonable when one pauses
to consider. The Count was highly esthetic; his wife charmed him in
really a very elevated way; he enjoyed her beauty, her society, her
_bonhomie_, no doubt her care and strength, for she was kind-hearted
where her passions were not concerned; he may have leaned upon her
vigorous young vitality. She and the tomb could not be pictured in the
same frame. He appreciated her; wanted her to be happy; was thoroughly
good to her, and did not mean that because she was tied to a broken
invalid she should be deprived of the fullness of life. An archaic and
rather pathetic casuistry, was it not?
“I pondered. ‘They are in a small sail-boat,’ thought I, and glanced at
the map of the archipelago hanging from the wall. ‘They will, of course,
make for Zamboanga, but on the way they are apt to stop at Port
Isabella.’ You know the place, Doctor—in Basilan; a beautiful spot: the
little village, the hot slope of open country rolling gradually upward
to meet the cool forests on the heights; the late sun painting it all
golden and shining back from the towering boles that form the ramparts
of the primeval woods? They were most apt to be in Basilan.
“‘I think we can find them,’ said I. ‘There should be no great
difficulty in coaxing back two naughty children with the sweets you have
to offer.’
“He kissed me on both cheeks; then nothing would do but I must go with
him; a cruise _de luxe_ would set me on my feet, clinch the nail of my
convalescence. He began to plan a touching reconciliation, the little
dinner which would attend this _fête d’amour_, the wines, the touching
speech which he would make, all of which so overcame him that he wept
upon my shoulder.
“Of course, I promised to go with him; one could scarcely do otherwise;
and, indeed, Doctor, I had a real esteem for the poor fellow, who in
many ways had the heart of a child. But the excitement of the whole
affair proved too much for his organically diseased heart, and that
night he nearly died.
“His steward came in to tell me that he feared his master was moribund,
so I got a Spanish surgeon and we worked over him throughout the night.
It was several days before he was out of immediate danger, and then
there came a typhoon, and his captain wished to put to sea to ride it
out. The yacht took the gale like a gull, but altogether it was two
weeks before the Count was fit to proceed on the quest of his errant
wife.
“We left Jolo early in the morning, and when I awoke the next day we
were lying off Port Isabella. I took the gig and went ashore, leaving
the Count taking digitalis and almost in a syncope. I was firm in
refusing to allow him to land, and, to tell the truth, I did not much
expect to find the couple. Having found the local padre, a Mestizo, I
asked after the fugitives.
“‘Yes,’ he said, ‘they were here, but they have gone, blessed be the
name of the Virgin! A pair of devils—with apologies to the Señor if he
should be so unfortunate as to be a friend. Myself, I believe them to be
quite mad. First they would quarrel, then they would kiss—then they
would quarrel again. Never have I seen so many quarrels—nor so much
kissing,’ he added, thoughtfully.
“‘When did they leave?’ I asked.
“‘But three days ago; St. Christopher grant that they do not return! He
was a devil—a white devil, this man—they were both devils.’ He
shuddered. ‘The kissings were growing less and the quarrels more. The
night before they left she came flying to the convent and begged for an
asylum. I was tempted, Señor, for she was very beautiful, like the women
of Paris, where I was educated, and a poor priest grows weary of nothing
but native women—but I thought of this purple-eyed devil and refused her
sanctuary. It was fortunate, for as we were discussing it he came up and
ordered her to return to the house which they were occupying. I do not
know by what powers she cursed him, but it must have been very terrible,
for he seized her by the shoulder and thrashed her with a bamboo until
she howled like a beaten bitch.
“‘I have no doubt it did her a world of good,’ I answered. In fact,
Doctor, this was the most cheering intelligence which I had received. I
began to believe that the Providence which had ordered these things was
not unwise.
“‘The Señor is correct,’ replied the priest, gravely, ‘for when I passed
the house on the way to mass they were on the verandah, and she was
crouching at his feet, with her head upon his knee. There is nothing
like a bamboo shoot for a bad-tempered woman, no matter how beautiful,’
he added, thoughtfully.
“I returned to the schooner and told the Count I thought that we would
find them in Zamboanga; I told him also of the discipline which his wife
was under. He looked pensive.
“‘Perhaps it will do her no harm,’ said he. ‘She is strong as a young
donkey, and it may be well for her to lick the paint off her toy.’
“You see, Doctor, he did not love this woman in any sense, conjugal or
paternal. He was grieved at her loss, as one might be at the loss of a
pretty and interesting pet—a Persian cat—and he was determined to get
her back, no matter how large the reward he was compelled to offer. When
he got her he might confine, but not punish her. Stewart really was far
the more practical of the two.
“Early the following morning we reached Zamboanga, and hardly had the
anchor splashed when a boat from the shore shot alongside, and, to my
utter amazement whom should I see in the stern but Stewart himself.
“The Count, who was below, sent word asking him to descend, which he
did, with a curt salutation to me. He was a blackguard of direct
methods, was Stewart, employing the weight of his vitality to project
his purpose and driving it to the mark with sheer physical force; with
him logic filled the place of imagination.
“He entered that cabin and confronted the outraged husband precisely as
if their relative situations had been reversed—certainly a cool hand,
utterly fearless and indifferent to possible redress.
“The Count regarded him mildly. I was amazed at his composure.
“‘I suppose you are looking for your wife,’ said Stewart, bluntly.
“‘Monsieur is correct,’ replied the Count, politely, but I saw a shadow
cross his face. It was evident that his sensitive nature found the
other’s manner offensive.
“‘Then I’ll fetch her back,’ said Stewart. ‘She won’t come without.’
“‘I am pained,’ murmured the Count, gently, but I could see the pupils
of his reddish-brown eyes dilate. One could not conceive of the man in a
rage; yet he looked quietly dangerous. ‘Is it that the Countess fears my
anger—my reproaches?’ His grizzled eyebrows were lifted in concern.
“Stewart gave a laugh of such coarse brutality that one longed to kick
him.
“‘No,’ he said, contemptuously, ‘hardly! I fancy she’s taken a bit of a
liking to me.’ There was no braggadocio mixed with his brutality,
Doctor; in fact, he colored as he said this and seemed embarrassed. I
believe that he was telling the truth.
“‘In that case,’ replied the Count, thoughtfully, and his face resumed
its former expression of indulgence, ‘why do you not return with her?’
He leaned back in his chair, brought the tips of his fingers together,
rested his chin on the indices and looked cordially at Stewart, who was
staring at him in angry bewilderment. ‘You have been acting under a
misconception, Mr. Stewart. I find you agreeable; you have done much to
relieve my _ennui_; besides this, you appear to be necessary to the
contentment of Madame the Countess.’ He was putting Stewart with the
servants, you see, Doctor, or lower. ‘Go fetch the Countess,’ he
continued, briskly, ‘and we will forget this folly; we will take our
dear friend Dr. Leyden to Singapore. If it is that you cannot afford to
lose the time from your affairs, I will make you my secretary at a
salary of your own choosing.’
“Stewart for the moment was stricken dumb, too utterly amazed to speak;
then the blood came pouring into his florid face and his eyes narrowed
to mere slits—and then I grieve to say that all of his blackguardism
came ripping out. He cursed the Count, the Countess, the schooner,
himself; in fact, he gave such an exhibition of savage and unbridled
rage as I have never seen before but once. You see, Doctor, the man was
sufficiently intelligent to appreciate that he was several very
undesirable things—a scoundrel, an ass, and an object, as it appeared to
him, of such utter contempt to this French nobleman as to be quite
beneath his resentment—and he felt that when a man’s behavior crawled
beneath the contempt of a Frenchman he was quite a way down! As Stewart
read it, and I wonder to this day if he was right, he represented a toy
to be purchased for the amusement of a pet—a sort of sub-plaything.
“As all of this struck Stewart in a sort of final, knockout insult he
leaped up so suddenly as to capsize his chair and rushed from the cabin,
a stream of curses standing out behind him like the tail of a comet.
“I glanced at the Count to see how he had stood the shock of the
interview, and, would you believe it, Doctor, his face wore the flush of
actual health and there was an entirely new glow in the depths of his
lustrous eyes. His valet was standing at his elbow, and he leaned back
and said a quick word, which I did not catch. The man slipped into the
pantry and I heard him skipping up the ladder to the deck.
“The Count looked at me. ‘The _canaille_!’ he said. ‘I knew that he was
theoretically a scoundrel, but I did not suspect that he was the
low-bred pig which he has proved himself. He once told me that his
father was a lord; if so, his mother must have been a fish-wife!... Ah!’
“I sprang to my feet, for there came from above the sounds of a most
terrific struggle, the impact of wicked blows, hoarse bellows of rage;
then there was a crash, followed by silence, save for labored
breathings.
“‘Sit down, Doctor, I beg of you!’ exclaimed the Count, and there was a
note of apology in his voice. ‘It has seemed best to me to detain this
fellow until we are able to obtain custody of the Countess. A deplorable
state of affairs’—he spread both hands palm downward in front of
him—‘but what is one to do? Have I not offered this young man every
courtesy—every hospitality? Yet you have heard his insults. Evidently he
came aboard because he was anxious to be rid of the Countess.’ (It is my
private belief, Doctor, that the scoundrel had some design of selling
her back to her husband.) ‘He has taxed my forbearance excessively——’
“‘What shall you do with him?’ I inquired.
“He shrugged his shoulders and made a wave of the hand. ‘I do not
know—that is immaterial; the important thing is to secure my wife. Is it
too much to ask you to go in and look for her, my dear Doctor?’
“I went in, of course, but in the meantime she had learned that Stewart
had gone off to the schooner, and, fearing violence for him at the hands
of her husband, she had gone out herself. When I returned the situation
was interesting. Madame was confined to her room in a state of frantic
and screaming defiance; Stewart was double-ironed in the lazarette, and,
although I did not see him again, I learned afterwards that he had not
been over gently handled by the sailors, and the Count was sipping
absinthe in the saloon and listening to the ravings of his wife with an
expression of amused indulgence.
“‘But listen to her, Doctor,’ he observed, gently stroking his gray
imperial. ‘Primitive woman howling for her mate; Eve, haled back from
outer darkness, screaming to Adam, whose admittance is denied. My faith!
she is more beautiful than ever—although,’ and his brow clouded,
‘bearing the marks of ill usage.’ He arose and began to slowly pace the
beam of the saloon; his scholarly face seamed in thought, the lustre
gone from his eyes. It was evident that he was thinking deeply. From the
other side of the after bulkhead came the short, angry sobs of the
Countess. He listened for an instant, and at the sound of a sudden
little snarl of rage he slowly shook his head and smiled.
“‘Interesting, Doctor, is it not? It would be beautiful in a way,
primevally beautiful—an idyll of the callow world when the rocks were
jagged like molten lead thrown into water, the vegetation chiefly
fungoid, and it was necessary to clip the wings of one’s horned cattle.
But for the man—he is a late, mongrel, low-grade production, with merely
a few primitive impulses.’ He paused to ponder. Madame’s sobs continued
rhythmically, broken now and then by a little _‘gr’r’r’_—pure rage—the
sounds which babies make when too angry to scream.
“‘Oh, these children—it is hard to know what course to take.’ The Count
turned to me in his perplexity. ‘As far as this man is concerned, I
suppose that the best thing would be to give him a good flogging and let
him go—eh, Doctor?’
“‘A flogging!’ I echoed, with a sort of horror.
“‘Why not? He is not a gentleman. He has endangered my life, which I
forgive; he has seduced my wife, for which I make due allowance; he has
insulted me to my face, for which I do not bear malice; but—he is
_canaille_, which makes it impossible for him to do all of these things
which one might forgive in a gentleman. He uses the wrong sort of
profanity; he chastises his mistress with his fists instead of his wit;
he forgets his dignity before my servants; when disarmed he disgorged a
_knife_—and he an Englishman! _Br’r’rgh!_ he is a nauseous animal. Let
him have a few lashes and be set ashore.’
“Perhaps I was wrong, Doctor, but I could not forget the rascal’s care
of me when I was ill. I told the Count flatly that I would not permit
it, and when he proved obstinate told him outright that to flog Stewart
he would first have to use violence towards me. He broke down and wept
at the bare suggestion of this, commemorated my treatment and care of
him when he was ill, and then embraced me and swore that he loved me
like a brother, and in the same breath gave orders that Stewart be
immediately set ashore, with no further ill-treatment.
“Stewart was accordingly landed and went his way in peace. The Countess
got over her fit of temper in about an hour, ate a hearty dinner, drank
several glasses of champagne, cheered up, and when I retired she was
sitting on the arm of her husband’s chair and, assured of his
unqualified forgiveness, was _relating her adventure_, while he chuckled
to himself like a mischievous schoolboy.
“The savage was back on the reservation; glad to be there; fed,
forgiven, petted and quite content to be good—until the next time.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TWO GENTLEMEN
“LOOK at that cat, Doctor,” said Leyden, “but do not let her see that
you are looking. There!—did you see the beast crouch, and glance at us,
and then begin to wash its face?”
I glanced at the ship’s cat—an interesting beast, as are most ship’s
cats, either because one has more time to study their actions, or
because a limited sphere develops the animal’s ingenuity. Some one had
brought aboard a _tulu-pial_ bird and hung its cage over the hand
steering-gear, where the pineapples are strung out to ripen. The cat had
lost no time in locating the bird and was busy measuring distances when
we interrupted.
“That cat,” said Leyden, “would be typified by a sneak-thief among men.
Do you know, Doctor, I believe that domestic animals, like men, have
their grades of honesty. Have you not seen a finely bred dog of high
courage subdue an animal impulse which he feels to be degrading?”
I _had_ observed this thing, but, seeing that the subject had suggested
something to Leyden’s mind, I merely nodded. Few men had looked as
deeply into the nature of all things made as had this keen-sensed Teuton
collector, who seemed equally at home in any part of the civilized or
savage world. He had at times played the same quiet, modest part in the
founding of empires as in the advancement of science; his friends were
to be found from the palm tree to the palace, and I fear that a great
many of his enemies were dead.
“I had once an occasion to watch a striking case of _noblesse oblige_ in
an animal,” Leyden continued. “I would not tell the story if it were a
simple animal yarn, as such tales are, as a rule, tiresome and
untruthful. This story concerns people, principally, but as those upon
whom it reflects discreditably are dead—with certain others—there is no
reason why it should not be told.
“This was a good many years ago, Doctor, when the steamer transportation
in the Pacific was less efficient than to-day. I had engaged passage
from ‘Frisco to Samoa on a schooner which was owned and captained by the
son of one of those early blackguards who used to land their crews upon
an island full of harmless cannibals, show them the way of civilization,
demonstrate the wickedness of their present lives, and then go off and
leave them to infect each other with constitutional disease in the place
of eating one another. I hope there is an interesting corner of hell
reserved for all such! Our captain, whose name was Deshay, was the
frequent handsome outcrop of a vicious sire; his father had eloped with
his mother, who was the half-caste wife of a missionary in the Marquesas
and one of the most beautiful women I ever saw. Later, Deshay, senior,
had made a good bit of money in the island trade, sent his son to
England to be educated, and while the boy was there the parents had been
lost in a typhoon.
“When I went down to the schooner on the morning of her sailing date I
found aboard her a young man of very pleasing appearance, who introduced
himself as Claud Dillingham and told me that we were to be shipmates.
“‘You are related to Claud Dillingham, the owner of the Great Bear
Mine?’ I asked. This Dillingham was a Virginia gentleman, who had made a
great fortune in mining claims, and was at that time the richest man on
‘the Slope.’
“‘I am his son,’ said he; and as he was speaking, a magnificent
bloodhound walked from behind the house, his fine, velvety head raised,
the delicate nostrils twitching and the dreamy, half-closed eyes
reinforcing the more potent sense of smell.
“‘What a magnificent animal!’ said I.
“‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘I am taking him with me; he is so intelligent that
he soon accustoms himself to new surroundings; besides, he would die if
I left him behind.’
“I remarked that I had heard of dogs being devoted to their masters to
that extent. There was no skepticism in my voice, but he was so
sensitive that he flushed like a girl.
“‘I speak from experience,’ said he, quickly. ‘I once left him for a
fortnight and then had to return, as they wrote me that he had not eaten
since I left. When I got back he was as thin as a coyote. I always took
him with me after that.’
“We talked together for a little while, and it did not take me long to
discover that the master was as thoroughbred as the hound; in fact, he
impressed one as a trifle too finely bred—_in_bred, possibly. He was
_too_ delicately charming—six feet in height, gracefully and slenderly
built, very fair, with the pure complexion and blue eyes of a very
pretty girl. I almost laughed when he presently confided in me that he
was taking the voyage in the hope of overcoming the liquor habit. I
suspected that there was a girl in the case—that Claud was in love and
had conceived that he was in danger of becoming addicted to the vice
because he sometimes drank a glass of beer when in college.
“As we were chatting together the hound walked suddenly to me and raised
his handsome head as if inviting a caress.
“‘That is unusual,’ said Claud. ‘His reception of people is often
embarrassing. He will not go near Captain Deshay. He is too polite to
growl; he simply gets out of the way, but he can’t keep his hair from
bristling a little.’
“I asked Claud presently if he had met the mate, and he said that he had
not, that he had not even seen him, which I thought rather singular.
Claud told me that we had another fellow-passenger, a Professor Lentz, a
scientist, not a mere collector like myself. He added that Professor
Lentz was below, engaged in storing a wagon-load of instruments for
recording everything from a falling star to his last bottle of beer. A
little while later I met him, and he proved to be a genial, if somewhat
secretive, old crank, who apparently had some complex theory regarding
ocean currents which he was afraid that some of us might try to steal.
“Captain Deshay came aboard at noon, and with him came a squat, heavily
bearded individual, who proved to be the mate. Deshay himself was a
well-educated man, of very finished manners and strikingly handsome in a
rather animal way. The casual observer would have described his face as
strong, but it was not—it was well-featured; but he had a lumpish jaw,
which is different from a masterful jaw, and his eyes were petulant
rather than determined. His manner was inclined to be loud,
authoritative and with a coarse _bonhomie_ always repellant to me. The
most assertive thing about him was a big voice, and a big voice is
scarcely ever associated with cold-blooded courage; it belongs to the
blustering, bullying kind.
“It was at once evident to me that Deshay was very nervous about
something; we were anchored half a mile out, and I noticed that he
frequently scanned the water-front while getting under way. His crew
appeared to be the scrapings of the wharves, a sulky-looking lot of
ragamuffins, but Deshay seemed to have them well in hand.
“As the weather had been cold and raw, we three passengers went below,
and as soon as we got under way Deshay left the deck to his mate and
joined us. He called at once for spirits and the steward brought
whiskey. I noticed an expression of surprised resentment in Claud’s face
at this proceeding; it appears that Deshay had given him to understand
that he did not drink himself and that he did not expect any other
passengers, and therefore he might never be subjected to temptation. I
was not aware of this at the time; nevertheless, I knew that there was a
struggle going on. You are aware, Doctor, of the faculty possessed by
certain people of placing themselves in a condition receptive to the
more potent impulses of another; it is an inherent faculty, but can by
training be developed to an amazing extent—a faculty with which women
are more generously endowed than men, but in most cases a woman
possessing this will depend upon it to the exclusion of logic; more than
that, she abuses it, overworks it, lazily attempts to make it do the
work of her mind to a point where it is no longer accurate, hence a
negative benefit. A diplomat must possess it; the best diplomats develop
it, just as a great musician of rich natural talent must develop this by
years of arduous practice; perhaps an explorer or collector like myself
may possess it even most of all, because he must be a trained observer,
which enables him to buttress the psychic and the mental with a precise
faculty for grasping subtle physical signs.