Boothby Guy
In Strange Company: A Story of Chili and the Southern Seas

"Oh, how good you are to me!" she repeated. "And what boat do you think you can get? There's Phelp's Ocean Queen, but she's too large; there's the Alberta, but she's not large enough. Oh, what boat can we find?"

"I was thinking of the Mother of Pearl," I answered. "She's quite big enough; and I know Jameson would let us buy her outright for a small sum cash. He's in low water, and wants a smaller boat."

"Yes; she would do beautifully," she continued, clapping her hands. "You must go and see about her this very hour, and then we may get away to-morrow, perhaps."

As she said this she looked up into my face with such an air of entreaty that I convinced myself that I was more in love with her than ever.

"Well, hardly to-morrow, I fancy," I replied. "You see there's so much to be seen to; a crew to be hunted up, stores, and a thousand and one things to be attended to, that all take time. What's more, I expect she'll want overhauling; she's been lying out there these six months past, just going to rack and ruin."

"Then when, my Jack, may we sail?"

"Perhaps the day after to-morrow – hardly before."

This at first caused her to look disappointed, for she seemed impatient of even an hour's delay; but she soon regained her spirits, and we set off back to the township on the best of terms.

Leaving her at her door, I passed on along the Sea-Front, to a spot where I knew I should find the owner of the Mother of Pearl. Just as I expected, he was seated on a bench, sunning himself between drinks; and as it was about time to hunt up another, I invited him to step inside the shanty and lubricate at my expense. This he willingly consented to do; and when the operation had been safely accomplished, and not till then, I began to lead up to the subject of the schooner.

As my reputation in the island was not exactly that of a monied man, he was thrown completely off his guard, and forthwith entered upon a string of abuse regarding the unfortunate vessel. She was too big for diving purposes; she cost twice as much to keep up as he could afford; she took a young man-o'-war's crew to work her; and altogether he wished he'd never set eyes on her. I waited my opportunity, and then said —

"Don't you wish you could sell her?"

"Sell her! You'd just better believe I do!" he replied with considerable energy. "I'm dead sick of her, – there never was a rottener bargain going."

He looked across the smooth stretch of the bay to where the object of his animadversions lay swinging to the tide. Then smothering a curse, he turned to me —

"Look here, Jack," he said, never of course dreaming I meant serious business, "I'm not what you'd call a big bug for style; but I'll tell you what I will do. I'll make you a present of that craft for two fifty, cash on the nail, and lose a hundred pounds by it. Now then, there you are; I couldn't say fairer than that if you was my missus's first husband's uncle, could I?"

He had made me the offer so often "just for style," that such a thing as my accepting it never for an instant crossed his mind. Therefore when I said quietly —

"Make it two hundred, Jim, and I'm your man, cash on the capstan when you please," there never was a man more overcome with astonishment.

"You don't mean it," he gasped; "you don't mean to go and say you've got two hundred pounds, Jack?"

His surprise was almost pathetic.

"I do," I answered, smiling at his earnestness; "and what's more, remember you've offered me the Mother of Pearl for two hundred and fifty pounds. I offer two hundred, cash, if she suits me, and we'll go off and look at her this very minute."

Taking him by the arm, I led the way to the beach, and pushed a boat into the water.

"You can pull," I said, seating myself comfortably in the stern-sheets.

"Who? Me? Not much," he replied; "there's no beastly pride about me. Here you, Tommy," turning to a Solomon boy who stood watching us, "just you jump in and put us aboard the Mother of Pearl yonder, and I won't say but what there mayn't be a plug of tobacco at the end of it."

Five minutes later we were aboard the schooner, and I was closely inspecting her, satisfying myself as to her good and bad qualities. When I had made up my mind, I turned to look for the owner. He was in the boat alongside, refreshing himself from a black bottle he had brought with him. As we pulled ashore, I said —

"Well, Jim, is it to be business?"

"Two fifty, not a red cent under."

"All right," I answered carelessly, "you're the best judge of that. She's not worth two hundred, but I'll give you that cash, otherwise no trade!"

He hung in the wind. Two hundred pounds, he reflected, would not only buy the new boat he wanted, but would enable him to extend his present drinking bout another week. An inspiration struck him —

"Two hundred cash," he said, "and I keep the pumps in her."

"There I'll meet you, though it's giving you the whole business. Is it a bargain?"

"My Colonial!" he replied, and the next moment we stepped ashore.

"Now," I said, "you just toddle away and fix up the papers. I'll be along with the money before you can turn round."

With that we separated, he returning to the hotel where we had met, while I made across the island to the Albino's abode. I found the dwarf at the wash-tub.

"What news?" he shouted, as soon as I approached; "have you talked her over? But there, of course you have, I can see it in your face! Well, what's the result?"

"That I've bought the schooner Mother of Pearl for two hundred pounds."

He eyed me suspiciously for a second, then flicking his fingers to clear them of soap-suds, led the way into the house. Seating himself on the bed, he dried his hands and spoke —

"Bought the Mother of Pearl, have you, and for two hundred pounds? Very good. You'll want another hundred to see you on your way."

Here he took from his drawer a leather bag which he tossed towards me.

"There you are, you'll find it correct, I think. Count it."

Doing as he bade me, I counted the sum out on the rickety little table; three hundred sovereigns in bright gold coin. When I had returned them to their bag, he continued —

"You find it as I say? Well, so much for that. Now, listen to me; have you breathed a word of my existence to your sweetheart? Think carefully before you speak, for I shall be sure to find out if you have."

"I gave you my word I would not," I replied, "and I have kept it; if you doubt me, take your money back."

"No, no," he hastened to say; "bless you, I don't doubt you, not a bit of it; I only wanted to be sure. Now just run along back and complete your bargain."

Before I went, I endeavoured to thank him again for his generosity, but he would not let me. One thing was certain; the more I thought about his action the further I was from understanding it.

Reaching the township I rejoined Jameson, and counted out to him the price of the schooner, which he repeatedly informed me was "dirt cheap at the money." Then leaving him to drink himself into delirium tremens, I pushed on to the "Orient," that I might inform Juanita of my success. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and urged on by it, before bed-time I had not only secured my crew, but had arranged my stores, and accepted the services of a mate.

Next morning I crossed the island to bid the Albino farewell. My surprise may be imagined when I found him gone. Not a trace of his whereabouts could be discovered, and, considerably exercised in my mind regarding him, I returned to make my final preparations. Shortly after midday I escorted Juanita (who had said farewell to the "Orient," amid much lamentation) aboard, and at three o'clock the Mother of Pearl stood out of the bay, bound on the most curious errand she had ever weighed anchor to accomplish. Only then did I learn our destination.

Though she certainly did not realize all the good qualities her late owner had (since the sale) led me to suppose she possessed, the schooner was a handy enough craft, and likely to serve the purpose for which we required her, every bit as well as one costing ten thousand pounds could have done. The best description of her would be to say that she was just a steady-going, serviceable old tub; and as I was not likely, with Juanita on board, to be in too much of a hurry to complete the voyage, that was all we wanted.

The mate proved a decent sort of young fellow. The crew were Kanakas, with a Chinaman cook, who also officiated as steward.

And now comes a portion of my yarn that I am tempted to dwell upon. How can I describe the beauties of that summer voyage? How resist the temptation it offers of indulging in extravagant waste of language? As I sit here recalling it, a strange longing rises in my heart that will not be suppressed; a longing that is not without a touch of sadness and regret. It is impossible, I have to tell myself, that I can expect to cross an old trail without some mixture of pain. Can I, in this fog-ridden England, hope to be allowed to stir up recollections of enchanting islands lifting their green heads from bright blue seas, of umber cliffs peering out of clustering foliage, of azure skies, and trade winds redolent of sweet perfumes, and yet expect to escape scot free?

The only thing regrettable about the voyage was its brevity. Is it therefore to be wondered at that, madly infatuated as I was with the woman who accompanied me, I viewed the prospect of calms with equanimity, and was loth to employ any exertions that would help to hurry it or get it over?

But every moment was bringing us nearer our destination; and at last, one sunset, I was able to tell Juanita, that in all probability another twenty-four hours would find us abreast of the island which contained her husband's grave.

As it turned out, my prophecy proved a correct one, for towards five o'clock on the following afternoon, the high peaks of Vanua Lava appeared above the horizon. By tea-time the schooner had brought the island abeam, and before darkness fell we were anchored off a thickly-wooded promontory, to the right of which Juanita declared her former lord and master lay buried.

CHAPTER V
A CURIOUS QUEST

Apart from the fact that it was being undertaken solely for the purpose of digging up and rifling a dead man's body, there was something peculiarly uncanny to me about this voyage to Vanua Lava. And the more I allowed my mind to dwell upon it, the more convinced I became that, somehow or other, what we found would materially affect my welfare. It may therefore be imagined with what interest I gazed across the intervening stretch of water at the thickly-timbered island, now disappearing into the fast-falling shadows. Juanita was wildly excited, and would have liked nothing better than to have gone ashore and commenced operations that very night. Indeed, I could not help thinking that the fortune her husband had hidden away must be even larger than she had led me to suppose, if I might estimate its size by her anxiety to obtain possession of the locket.

As soon as tea was over we returned on deck. It was a glorious night. Overhead, in a coal-black sky, the great stars hung lustrous and wonderful. Below them all was silence. Not a sound save the subdued voices of the crew forward, and now and again a tiny wave, stirred by some gentle zephyr, breaking against the schooner's side, disturbed the stillness. Then, little by little, the eastern stars began to lose their brilliance. The sky at that end of the island relinquished some of its blackness, and presently, with a majesty untranslatable, the great moon rose into the heavens, casting a mellow light across the silent deep, and touching with silver the topmost trees ashore. With her coming a faint breeze stole down to meet us and set the schooner gently rocking.

When we had paced the deck together for a while Juanita drew me to the taffrail, and passing her arm through mine in a caressing manner peculiar to herself, fell to talking in a strain which I had never discovered in her before. The impression her conversation forced upon me was that she was trying to excuse herself for a great wrong she had already done or was about to do me, and yet nothing in her actual speech lent any reason to this supposition.

"To-morrow," she said, half to herself, "will decide a great deal for both of us."

"How for both of us, Juanita?" I asked. "If you find what you want over yonder you'll be a rich lady, and then 'good-bye' to poor Jack."

She started as if frightened, and pressed my arm tighter.

"You have been so good to me that I don't know what to say to you," she continued, disregarding my last speech. "Oh, Jack! if we could only be ourselves, free to act and to do whatsoever we wished, instead of being driven so relentlessly on and on by destiny, how much happier we should be! Do you believe in fate?"

"I believe you are my fate," I replied, pressing her hand with all the ardour of a lover, "and what better fate could I ask?"

"Or what worse?" she said sadly. "Jack, my poor Jack, you don't know how you will hate me some day."

"Never, Juanita, and that I'll swear to."

She was silent for a minute or two. When she spoke again there was a bitterness in her voice I had never heard in it before.

"If I had only known and loved you sooner," she went on, "I might have been a better woman. But I was cursed from the very beginning; cursed with a bad mother, cursed with a bad father, cursed with a beauty that was only a snare for sin; lured to my ruin before I was old enough to understand, driven by poverty and despair to be what I am – a woman at war with all the world. Oh, Jack, may the Holy Mother forbid that you may ever know what my life has been! But there, why should I tell you all this? let us be happy and believe in each other to-night, if only for to-night."

"My darling," I cried with real alarm, noticing that big tears were rolling down her cheeks, "what is the matter? Tell me, and let me comfort you. This monotonous voyage has tired you, to-morrow you will be better. Don't give way just at the time when you want all your nerve."

But my advice came too late; she threw herself into my arms and wept as if her heart would break. I could see that she was thoroughly upset, but what had occasioned it I could not of course understand. Since then, however, I have become wiser, and whenever I think of that night on the schooner's deck, under the shadow of the island, I say to myself, "Well, however she may have acted towards me afterwards, at least Juanita loved me then."

When she grew calmer she began again, this time with a sort of malignant fierceness that was equally inexplicable.

"My Jack, if I told you that I was a despicable coward and asked you to weigh anchor to-night and to leave the island without as much as going ashore, would you do it? Think before you answer, for heaven and hell depend upon it."

I suppose at some period of his life every man has his fate in his hand to do as he likes with. I had mine then, and, as will be seen, I threw it from me. Oh, if I had only taken the opportunity she offered and set sail without rifling that grave, what awful misery for both of us I should have averted! But, blind bat that I was, it was ordained that I should see everything in a wrong light, and so I began immediately to reproach her for her weakness, telling her that since she had come so far to do it, it would be worse than cowardice to return without carrying out her work.

"But, Jack," she said, "if you only knew, if you only knew?"

"If I knew what?" I asked. "Come, come, Juanita, what does all this mystery mean? What are you hinting at? You're in a very extraordinary mood to-night." I was beginning to grow impatient with her.

"Don't," she cried, preparing to burst into tears again, "don't scold me. If you could only know how we shall both look back on this night some day, and how it will comfort me to remember that at least you were not angry then!"

When she went below I lit my pipe and fell to work upon my own thoughts. I tried to recall her conversation and to find a reason for her extraordinary behaviour, but it was impossible. In vain also I endeavoured to rid myself of the feeling of approaching danger which possessed me. At last, unable to make head or tail of it, and thoroughly wretched, I sought my bunk in the hope of obtaining a little rest against the labours of the morrow.

My dreams were not pleasant ones. Juanita seemed to stand before me continually, gazing at me as she had done on deck, with tear-streaming face, imploring me to forgive her, always to forgive her. I don't remember ever to have spent a more miserable night. But it was only a foretaste of what was to come.

Shortly after daylight I awoke to hear the hands "washing down." I went on deck and had a bath; the clear green water braced me like a tonic. A more perfect morning could not be imagined. The sea lay around us, in colour a pale grey, and smooth as the inside of an oyster-shell. Ashore the rugged mountain peaks were enveloped in vast masses of white cloud, while on the lower lands every shrub and tree was gemmed with dew. A few sea-birds hovered round the schooner, and from far down the northern beach a spiral column of palest blue smoke ascended into the still morning air.

About half-an-hour before breakfast-time, Juanita came on deck, looking radiant; all signs of her last night's trouble had completely disappeared. Stepping out of the companion, she swept the sea with a proud, defiant glance, as though she had at length achieved something which other people had deemed impossible. Then her eyes fell on me, and she came across to where I stood, wishing me "good-morning" with a bright smile. I felt inclined to ask myself if this could be the same woman who had wept upon my shoulder the night before, and begged me in heart-broken accents to forgive her some imaginary transgression. After a few moments her glance wandered from the schooner and the open sea to the island, and then the expression upon her face (for I watched it continually) changed. When she came on deck, it was that of a woman who through much suffering had conquered; but when she looked towards the spot where the man she had once loved lay buried, it was the face of one who had still to prove that the struggle was not going against her. Just at that moment the bell sounded for breakfast, and leaving the deck to the mate, I escorted her below.

As soon as we had finished our meal, I gave orders for the long-boat to be swung out, and a crowbar and a couple of shovels put into her. I had already chosen the hands who should accompany us, so nothing remained but to assist my sweetheart down the gangway, take our places in the boat, and set out for the shore. It was no use trying to persuade Juanita to remain on board, and let me do the work. She would not hear of it. On the way I could not help noticing the appearance of her face; it had become deadly white and haggard, a circumstance which I could only attribute to the ghastly nature of our errand.

Owing to the fact of there being no reef on this side of the island, we were able to bring the boat flush up to the shore, and to secure her by a long painter to a tree.

As I helped Juanita out, I asked her in which direction she supposed the grave to lie, and without any hesitation she pointed to a little wooded knoll, about a hundred yards to our left. Off we set towards it.

By this time the pallor of her face was such as to quite frighten me. I asked her if she did not think she'd better sit down and rest a while. Her answer, if not assuring, was emphatic.

"Rest! What rest can I have? No, no, no; on, on! I can't rest; I can't think till we've done the work. Oh, be quick! be quick!"

Reaching the spot she had pointed out, we commenced our search for the grave. Though she declared her husband had only been buried a few months, no sign of his resting-place was to be seen. This I accounted for by the fact that it was situated on a slope, and the wash of the water (for the rains had occurred since the burial took place) had smoothed the earth all along the hill-side, levelling and obliterating all traces of the mound. However, after much diligent search, I found amid some rank grass a spot which seemed to bear some resemblance to what we sought, and here I decided to dig.

The ground was by no means hard, and as the two men I had brought ashore were muscular fellows, it was not long before we had a good hole to show for our work. Suddenly the shovel struck something with a hollow sound, bringing my heart into my mouth with a jump. Next moment a corner of a roughly-made coffin came into view. And as it did so, Juanita gave a little cry, while I felt large clammy beads of sweat ooze out and down my own forehead.

Bidding the two men exert all their strength, I worked the crowbar underneath the coffin, and leant my weight upon it. Inch by inch it uncovered itself, and at last we were able, by getting our hands under it, to lift it out on to the level ground. As we laid it down, I heard Juanita gasp for breath. And when I told her we were going to prize the lid off, she could bear it no longer, but turned her back, and burying her face in her hands, bade me search round the dead man's neck for the locket. She could not do it herself.

Inserting a corner of the shovel between the lid and the side, I tried to force it open, but it was securely fastened, and defied me. There was nothing for it but to send off to the schooner for a screwdriver. How bitterly I reproached myself for not having brought one with me!

The waiting was intolerable. Though it was in reality not ten minutes, it seemed an hour before the man returned with the tool. Then, one by one, my hands shaking with nervousness, I withdrew the screws. That work accomplished, I ordered one of the Kanakas to lift off the lid. As he prepared to do so, I could not repress a feeling of wonderment as to what this former lover of Juanita's would be like; at the same time, I braced my nerves for what we should see.

The lid was off. I looked; I rubbed my eyes and looked again – could I be dreaming?

Save for a large roll of sheet-lead, the coffin was empty. No man had ever been buried in it!

The whole funeral must have been a farce, intended to deceive some one. Could that some one, I asked myself, have been Juanita?

My exclamations must have puzzled her, for she cried out —

"Oh, what have you found?"

I was so overcome with surprise that I had some difficulty in finding voice enough to reply to her. Then I said —

"Juanita, you've been hoaxed! No man was ever buried here. There's only a sheet of lead in the coffin!"

With that she faced round on me, and never, before or since, have I seen such an expression of fear in the human face. She stood there, wildly staring, first at the open coffin, then at the grave, unable to speak. Her face seemed to grow every moment paler. Then, turning to me, she said very softly, so softly that I asked myself whether the shock could have been too much for her brain —

"I have been the victim of a conspiracy; take me back to the schooner."

I signed to the men to collect the tools, and we were in the act of starting on our return to the beach, when I heard unmistakable sounds of some one moving through the undergrowth on the bank above us. Juanita heard them too, and by some means, for which I cannot account, must have divined their cause, for she faced round like a tigress at bay. Then the bushes parted, and the Albino stood before us!

Anything so uncanny as his appearance at that moment cannot be imagined. He gazed at us, his fingers cracking, his little pink eyes gleaming maliciously, and his long white hair floating in the breeze. As I looked, I felt Juanita fall heavily on my arm. She had fainted.