THE END OF THE WORLD
In the morning he met Miss Leslie with a sullen bearing, which, however,
did not altogether conceal his desire to be on friendly terms. Having
regained her self-control, she responded to this with such tact that
by evening each felt more at ease in the new relationship, and Blake
had lost every trace of his moroseness. The fact that both were
passionately fond of music proved an immense help. It gave them an
impersonal source of mutual sympathy and understanding,--a common
meeting-ground in the world of art and culture, apart from and above
the plane of their material wants.
Yet for all his enjoyment of the girl's wide knowledge of everything
relating to music, Blake took care that their talks and discussions did
not interfere with the activities of their primitive mode of life. As
soon as he had finished with the barricade, he devoted himself to his
tailoring and shoe-making; while Miss Leslie, between her cooking and
wood-gathering and daily visits to the cliff for eggs, had much to occupy
both her thoughts and her hands.
At first every ascent of the cliff was embittered by a painful
consciousness of the cairn upon the north edge. Fortunately it was not
in sight from the direct path to the headland, and, as she refrained
from visiting it, the new happenings of her wild life soon thrust
Winthrope and his death out of the foreground of her thoughts. Each day
she had to nerve herself to meet the beaks and wings of the despoiled
nest-owners; each day she looked with greater hope for the expected
rescue ship, only to be increasingly disappointed.
But the hours she spent on the cliff crest after gathering the day's
supply of eggs were not spent merely in watching and longing. The
inconvenience of carrying the eggs in a handkerchief or in one of the
heavy jars suggested a renewal of her attempt at basket-making. Memory,
perseverance, and a trace of inventiveness enabled her to produce a
small but serviceable hamper of split bamboo.
Encouraged by this success she gathered a quantity of tough, wiry grass,
and wove a hat to take the place of the flimsy palm-leaf makeshift.
The result was by no means satisfactory with regard to style, its shape
being intermediate between a Mexican sombrero and a funnel; but aside
from its appearance, she could not have wished for a more comfortable
head-cover. Before showing it to Blake, she wove a second one for him,
so that they were able to cast aside the grotesque, palm-leaf affairs
at the same time.
The following morning Blake appeared in an outfit to match her
leopard-skin dress. He had singed off the hair of the hide out of which
he had made his moccasins, and his hyena-skin trousers quite matched
the bristling stubble on his face.
"Hey, Miss Jenny!" he hailed; "what d' you think of this for fancy
needlework?"
"Splendid! You're the very picture of an Argentine vaquero."
"Greaser?--ugh! Let me get back to the Weary Willy pants!"
"I mean you are very picturesque."
"That's it, is it? Glad I've got something to call your leopardine
gown that won't make you huffy."
"We can at least call our costumes serviceable, and mine has proved much
cooler than I expected."
"But our new hats beat all for that--regular sunshades. What do you
say?--there's a good breeze-- Let's take a hike."
"Not to the river! The very thought of that dreadful snake--"
"No; just the other way. I've been thinking for some time that we
ought to run down to that south headland, and take a squint at the coast
beyond. Ten to one, it's another stretch of swamps, but--"
"You think there is a chance we may find a town?"
"About one chance in a million, even for a native village. The slave
trade wiped the niggers off this coast, and I guess those that hit out
upcountry ran so hard they haven't been able to get back yet."
"But it has been years since the slave trade was forbidden."
"And they don't sell beer in Kansas--oh, no! I'll bet the dhows still
slip over from Madagascar when the moon is in the right quarter. At
any rate, niggers are mighty scarce or mighty shy around here. I've
kept a watch for smoke, and haven't seen a suspicion of it anywhere.
Maybe the swamps swing around inland and cut off this strip of coast.
It looked that way to me when I made that trip along the ridge. But
there's a chance it used to be inhabited, and we may run across an
abandoned village."
"I do not see that the discovery would do us any good."
"How about the chance of grain or bananas still growing? But that's
all a guess. We're going because we need a change."
She nodded, and hastened to prepare breakfast, while he packed a skin
bag with food, and examined the slender tips of his arrows. As a matter
of precaution, he had been keeping them in the cigarette case, where
the points would be certain of a coat of the sticky poison and at the
same time guarded against inflicting a chance wound. But as he was now
about to set out on a journey, he fitted tips into the heads of his
two straightest shafts.
The morning was still fresh when they closed the barricade behind them
and descended to the pool. There was no game in sight, but Blake had no
wish to hunt at the commencement of the trip. The steady southwest wind
had blown the sky clear of its malarial haze, and gave promise of a day
which should know nothing of sultry calm--a day on which game would be
hard to stalk, but one perfectly suited for a long tramp.
Mindful of ticks, Blake headed obliquely across to the beach. Once on
the smooth, hard sand, they swung along at a brisk pace, light-hearted
and keen with the spirit of adventure. Never had they felt more
companionable. Miss Leslie laughed and chatted and sang snatches of
songs, while Blake beat time with his club, or sought to whistle grand
opera--he had healed his blistered lips some time before by liberal
applications of antelope tallow.
Gulls and terns circled about them, or hovered over the water, ready to
swoop down upon their finny prey. Sandpipers ran along the beach within a
stone's throw, but the curlews showed their greater knowledge of mankind
by keeping beyond gunshot.
Once a great flock of geese drove high overhead, their leader honking
the alarm as they swept above the suspicious figures on the beach. Like
the curlews, they had knowledge of mankind. But the flock of white
pelicans which came sailing along in stately leisure on their immense
wings floated past so low that Blake felt certain he could shoot one.
He raised his bow and took aim, but refrained from shooting, at the
thought that it might be a sheer waste of his precious poison.
A little later a herd of large animals appeared on the border of the
grass jungle, but wheeled and dashed back into cover so quickly that
Blake barely had time to make out that they were buffaloes--the first
he had seen on this coast, but easily recognized by their resemblance
to the Cape variety. Their flight gave him small concern; for the time
being he was more interested in topography than game.
The southern headland now lay close before them, its seaward face rearing
up sheer and lofty, but the approach behind running down in broken
terraces. Mid-morning found the explorers at the foot of the ridge.
Blake squinted up at the boulder-strewn slopes and the crannies of the
broken ledges.
"Likely place for snakes, Miss Jenny," he remarked. "Guess I'd better
lead."
Eager as she was to look over into the country beyond, the girl dropped
into second place, and made no complaint about the wary slowness of
her companion's advance. She found the most difficult parts of the
ascent quite easy after her training on the tree-ladder. Blake could
have taken ledges and all at a run, but as he mounted each terrace, he
halted to spy out the ground before him. Like Miss Leslie, he was looking
for snakes, though for an exactly opposite reason. He wished to add
to the contents of the cigarette case.
Greatly to his disappointment and the girl's relief, neither snake nor
sign of snake was to be seen all the way up the ridge. As they neared
the crest Blake turned to offer her his hand up the last ledges, and in
the instant they gained the top.
The wind, now freshening to a gale, struck the girl with such force that
she would have been blown back down the ledges had not Blake clutched
her wrist. Heedless alike of the painful grip which held her and of the
gusts which tore at her skirt, the girl stood gazing out across the
desolate swamps which stretched away to the southwest as far as the
eye could see. She did not speak until Blake led her down behind the
shelter of the crest ledges.
"What's the matter?" he demanded. "Didn't I warn you?"
She looked away to hide the tears which sprang into her eyes.
"I can't explain--only, it makes me feel so--so lonely!"
"Oh, come now, little woman; don't take on so!" he urged. "It might
be a lot worse, you know. We've gotten along pretty well, considering."
"You have been very kind, Mr. Blake, and as you say, matters might have
been worse. I do not forget how far more terrible was our situation the
morning after the storm. Yet you must realize how disappointing it is to
lose even the slightest hope of escape."
"Well, I don't know. If it wasn't for the fever that's bound to come
with the rains, I, for one, would just as leave stick to this camp right
along, providing the company don't change."
She turned upon him with flashing eyes, all thought of caution lost in
her anger. "How dare you say such a thing? You are contemptible! I
despise you!"
"My, Miss Jenny, but you are pretty when you get mad!" he exclaimed.
The answer took her completely aback. He was neither angry nor laughing
at her, but met her defiant glance with candid, sober admiration. There
was something more than admiration in his glowing eyes; yet she could
not but see that her alarm had been baseless. His manner had never been
more respectful. Suddenly she found that she could no longer meet his
gaze. She looked away and stammered lamely, "You--you shouldn't say
such things, you know."
"Why not? Hasn't everything been running smooth the last few days?
Haven't we been good chummy comrades? Of course you've got the worst of
the deal. I know I'm not much on fancy talk; but I like to hear it when
I've a chance. I've led a lonesome sort of life since they did for my
sisters-- No; I'm not going to rake that up again. I'm only trying
to give you an idea what it means to a fellow to be with a lady like
you. May be it isn't polite to tell you all this, but it's just what
I feel, and I never did amount to shucks as a liar."
"I believe I understand you, Mr. Blake, and I really feel highly
complimented."
"No, you don't, any such thing, Miss Jenny. Own up, now! If I met you
to-morrow on your papa's doorstep, you'd cut me cold."
"I should if you continued to be so rude. Have you no regard for my
feelings? But here we are, talking nonsense, when we should be going--"
"Is it nonsense?" he broke in. "What does life mean, anyway? Here we
can be true friends and comrades,--real, free living people. It can't
be that you want to go back to all those society shams, after you've
seen real life! As for me, what have I to gain by going back to the
everlasting grind? I don't mind work; but when a man has nothing ahead
to work for but a bank account, when it's grind, grind, grind till
your head goes stale and all the world looks black, then there's no
choice but throw up your job and go on a drunk, if you want to keep from
a gun accident. Maybe you don't understand it. But that's what I've
had to go through, time and again. Do you wonder I like to fancy an
everlasting picnic here, with a little partner who wouldn't let me
come within shouting distance of her in the land of lavender--trousers
and peek-a-boos?"
"Mr. Blake, really you are most unjust! I could not be so--so
ungrateful, after all your kindness. I--we should certainly be glad to
number you among our friends."
"Drink and all, eh?"
"A man of your will-power has no need whatever to give way to such a
habit."
"Course not, if he's got anything in sight worth while. Guess, though,
my folks must have been poor white trash. I never could go after money
just for the fun of the game. No family, no friends, no--what-you
-call-it?--culture-- What's the use? I have a fair head for figures; but
all the mathematics that I know I've had to catch hot off the bat.
It's true I grubbed my C. E. out of a correspondence school; but a
fellow has to have an all-round, crack-up education to put him where
it's worth while."
"You still have time to work up. You are not much over thirty."
"Twenty-seven."
"Twenty-seven! I should have thought-- What a hard life you must have
had!"
"Hard work? Well, I suppose Panama did do for me some. But it wasn't
so much that. Few fellows could hit up the pace I've set and come out
at all."
"I do not understand."
"Just what you might expect of a fellow in my fix--all kinds of gamble
and drink and--the rest of it."
Miss Leslie looked away, visibly distressed. She had not been reared
after the French method. Young as she was, she had fluttered at will
about the borders of the garden of vice, knowing well that the gaudy
blossoms were lures to entice one into the pitfall. Yet never before
had she caught so clear a glimpse of the slimy depths.
"That's it!" growled Blake. "Throw me down cold, just because I'm
square enough to tell you straight out. You make me tired! I'm not
one of the work-ox sort, that can chew the cud all the year round, and
cork the blood out of their brains. I've got to cut loose from the
infernal grind once in a while, and barring a chance now and then at
opera, there's never been anything but a spree--"
"Oh, but that's so dreadfully shocking, Mr. Blake!"
"And then like all the other little hypocrites, you'll go and marry
one of those swell dudes who's made that sort of thing his business, and
everybody knows it, but it's all politely understood to've been done
sub rosa, so it's all right, because he knows how to part his name in
the middle and--"
"Please, please stop, Mr. Blake! You don't know how cruel you are!"
"Cruel? Suppose I told you about the millionaire cur that-- Oh, now,
don't go and cry! Please don't cry, Miss Jenny! I wouldn't hurt your
feelings for the world! I didn't mean anything out of the way, really
I didn't! It's only that when I get to thinking of--of things, it sets
me half crazy. And now, can't you see how it's going to be ten times
worse for me after--with you so altogether beyond me--" He stopped
short, flushed, and stammered lamely, "I--I didn't mean to say that!"
She looked down, no less embarrassed.
"Please let us talk of something else," she murmured. "It has
been such a pleasant morning, until you--until we began this silly
discussion."
"All right, all right! Only mop up the dewdrops, and we'll turn on
the sun machine. I really didn't mean to rip out that way at all. But,
you see, the thing's been rankling in me ever since we came aboard ship
at the Cape, and Winthrope and Lady Bayrose had my seat changed so I
couldn't see you-- Not that I hold anything against them now--"
"Mr. Blake, I suppose you know that this African coast is particularly
dangerous for women. So far I have escaped the fever. But you yourself
said that the longer the attack is delayed, the worse it will be."
Blake's face darkened, and he turned to stare inland along the ridge.
She had flicked him on the raw, and he thought that she had done so
intentionally.
"You think I haven't tried--that I've been shamming!" he burst out
bitterly. "You're right. There's the one chance-- But I couldn't
leave you till the barricade was finished, and it's been only a few days
since-- All the same, I oughtn't to've waited a day. I'll start it
to-morrow."
"What! Start what?"
"A catamaran. I can rig one up, in short order, that, with a skin
sail and an outrigger, will do fairly well to coast along inside the
reefs--barring squalls. Worst thing is that it's all a guess whether
the nearest settlement is up the coast or down."
"And you can think of going, and leaving me all alone here!"
"That's better than letting you risk two-to-one chances on feeding the
sharks."
"But you'd be risking it!"
Blake uttered a short harsh laugh.
"What's the difference?" He paused a moment; then added, with grim
humor, "Anyway, they'll have earned a meal by the time they get me
chewed up."
"You sha'n't go!"
"Oh, I don't know. We'll see about it to-morrow. There's a grove
of cocoanuts yonder. Come on, and I'll get some nuts. I can't see any
water around here, and it would be dry eating, with only the flask."