Because of the Dollars

by Joseph Conrad

CHAPTER IWhile we were hanging about near the water's edge, as sailorsidling ashore will do (it was in the open space before the HarbourOffice of a great Eastern port), a man came towards us from the"front" of business houses, aiming obliquely at the landing steps.He attracted my attention because in the movement of figures inwhite drill suits on the pavement from which he stepped, hiscostume, the usual tunic and trousers, being made of light greyflannel, made him noticeable.I had time to observe him. He was stout, but he was not grotesque.His face was round and smooth, his complexion very fair. On hisnearer approach I saw a little moustache made all the fairer by agood many white hairs. And he had, for a stout man, quite a goodchin. In passing us he exchanged nods with the friend I was withand smiled.My friend was Hollis, the fellow who had so many adventures and hadknown so many queer people in that part of the (more or less)gorgeous East in the days of his youth. He said: "That's a goodman. I don't mean good in the sense of smart or skilful in histrade. I mean a really GOOD man."I turned round at once to look at the phenomenon. The "really GOODman" had a very broad back. I saw him signal a sampan to comealongside, get into it, and go off in the direction of a cluster oflocal steamers anchored close inshore.I said: "He's a seaman, isn't he?""Yes. Commands that biggish dark-green steamer: 'Sissie--Glasgow.' He has never commanded anything else but the 'Sissie--Glasgow,' only it wasn't always the same Sissie. The first he hadwas about half the length of this one, and we used to tell poorDavidson that she was a size too small for him. Even at that timeDavidson had bulk. We warned him he would get callosities on hisshoulders and elbows because of the tight fit of his command. AndDavidson could well afford the smiles he gave us for our chaff. Hemade lots of money in her. She belonged to a portly Chinamanresembling a mandarin in a picture-book, with goggles and thindrooping moustaches, and as dignified as only a Celestial knows howto be."The best of Chinamen as employers is that they have suchgentlemanly instincts. Once they become convinced that you are astraight man, they give you their unbounded confidence. You simplycan't do wrong, then. And they are pretty quick judges ofcharacter, too. Davidson's Chinaman was the first to find out hisworth, on some theoretical principle. One day in his counting-house, before several white men he was heard to declare: 'CaptainDavidson is a good man.' And that settled it. After that youcouldn't tell if it was Davidson who belonged to the Chinaman orthe Chinaman who belonged to Davidson. It was he who, shortlybefore he died, ordered in Glasgow the new Sissie for Davidson tocommand."We walked into the shade of the Harbour Office and leaned ourelbows on the parapet of the quay."She was really meant to comfort poor Davidson," continued Hollis."Can you fancy anything more naively touching than this oldmandarin spending several thousand pounds to console his white man?Well, there she is. The old mandarin's sons have inherited her,and Davidson with her; and he commands her; and what with hissalary and trading privileges he makes a lot of money; andeverything is as before; and Davidson even smiles--you have seenit? Well, the smile's the only thing which isn't as before.""Tell me, Hollis," I asked, "what do you mean by good in thisconnection?""Well, there are men who are born good just as others are bornwitty. What I mean is his nature. No simpler, more scrupulouslydelicate soul had ever lived in such a--a--comfortable envelope.How we used to laugh at Davidson's fine scruples! In short, he'sthoroughly humane, and I don't imagine there can be much of anyother sort of goodness that counts on this earth. And as he's thatwith a shade of particular refinement, I may well call him a'REALLY good man.'"I knew from old that Hollis was a firm believer in the final valueof shades. And I said: "I see"--because I really did see Hollis'sDavidson in the sympathetic stout man who had passed us a littlewhile before. But I remembered that at the very moment he smiledhis placid face appeared veiled in melancholy--a sort of spiritualshadow. I went on."Who on earth has paid him off for being so fine by spoiling hissmile?""That's quite a story, and I will tell it to you if you like.Confound it! It's quite a surprising one, too. Surprising inevery way, but mostly in the way it knocked over poor Davidson--andapparently only because he is such a good sort. He was telling meall about it only a few days ago. He said that when he saw thesefour fellows with their heads in a bunch over the table, he at oncedidn't like it. He didn't like it at all. You mustn't supposethat Davidson is a soft fool. These men -"But I had better begin at the beginning. We must go back to thefirst time the old dollars had been called in by our Government inexchange for a new issue. Just about the time when I left theseparts to go home for a long stay. Every trader in the islands wasthinking of getting his old dollars sent up here in time, and thedemand for empty French wine cases--you know the dozen of vermouthor claret size--was something unprecedented. The custom was topack the dollars in little bags of a hundred each. I don't knowhow many bags each case would hold. A good lot. Pretty tidy sumsmust have been moving afloat just then. But let us get away fromhere. Won't do to stay in the sun. Where could we--? I know! letus go to those tiffin-rooms over there."We moved over accordingly. Our appearance in the long empty roomat that early hour caused visible consternation amongst the Chinaboys. But Hollis led the way to one of the tables between thewindows screened by rattan blinds. A brilliant half-light trembledon the ceiling, on the whitewashed walls, bathed the multitude ofvacant chairs and tables in a peculiar, stealthy glow."All right. We will get something to eat when it's ready," hesaid, waving the anxious Chinaman waiter aside. He took histemples touched with grey between his hands, leaning over the tableto bring his face, his dark, keen eyes, closer to mine."Davidson then was commanding the steamer Sissie--the little onewhich we used to chaff him about. He ran her alone, with only theMalay serang for a deck officer. The nearest approach to anotherwhite man on board of her was the engineer, a Portuguese half-caste, as thin as a lath and quite a youngster at that. For allpractical purposes Davidson was managing that command of hissingle-handed; and of course this was known in the port. I amtelling you of it because the fact had its influence on thedevelopments you shall hear of presently."His steamer, being so small, could go up tiny creeks and intoshallow bays and through reefs and over sand-banks, collectingproduce, where no other vessel but a native craft would think ofventuring. It is a paying game, often. Davidson was known tovisit in her places that no one else could find and that hardlyanybody had ever heard of."The old dollars being called in, Davidson's Chinaman thought thatthe Sissie would be just the thing to collect them from smalltraders in the less frequented parts of the Archipelago. It's agood business. Such cases of dollars are dumped aft in the ship'slazarette, and you get good freight for very little trouble andspace."Davidson, too, thought it was a good idea; and together they madeup a list of his calls on his next trip. Then Davidson (he hadnaturally the chart of his voyages in his head) remarked that onhis way back he might look in at a certain settlement up a merecreek, where a poor sort of white man lived in a native village.Davidson pointed out to his Chinaman that the fellow was certain tohave some rattans to ship."'Probably enough to fill her forward,' said Davidson. 'Andthat'll be better than bringing her back with empty holds. A daymore or less doesn't matter.'"This was sound talk, and the Chinaman owner could not but agree.But if it hadn't been sound it would have been just the same.Davidson did what he liked. He was a man that could do no wrong.However, this suggestion of his was not merely a business matter.There was in it a touch of Davidsonian kindness. For you must knowthat the man could not have continued to live quietly up that creekif it had not been for Davidson's willingness to call there fromtime to time. And Davidson's Chinaman knew this perfectly well,too. So he only smiled his dignified, bland smile, and said: 'Allright, Captain. You do what you like.'"I will explain presently how this connection between Davidson andthat fellow came about. Now I want to tell you about the part ofthis affair which happened here--the preliminaries of it."You know as well as I do that these tiffin-rooms where we aresitting now have been in existence for many years. Well, next dayabout twelve o'clock, Davidson dropped in here to get something toeat."And here comes the only moment in this story where accident--mereaccident--plays a part. If Davidson had gone home that day fortiffin, there would be now, after twelve years or more, nothingchanged in his kindly, placid smile."But he came in here; and perhaps it was sitting at this very tablethat he remarked to a friend of mine that his next trip was to be adollar-collecting trip. He added, laughing, that his wife wasmaking rather a fuss about it. She had begged him to stay ashoreand get somebody else to take his place for a voyage. She thoughtthere was some danger on account of the dollars. He told her, hesaid, that there were no Java-sea pirates nowadays except in boys'books. He had laughed at her fears, but he was very sorry, too;for when she took any notion in her head it was impossible to argueher out of it. She would be worrying herself all the time he wasaway. Well, he couldn't help it. There was no one ashore fit totake his place for the trip."This friend of mine and I went home together in the same mail-boat, and he mentioned that conversation one evening in the Red Seawhile we were talking over the things and people we had just left,with more or less regret."I can't say that Davidson occupied a very prominent place. Moralexcellence seldom does. He was quietly appreciated by those whoknew him well; but his more obvious distinction consisted in this,that he was married. Ours, as you remember, was a bachelor crowd;in spirit anyhow, if not absolutely in fact. There might have beena few wives in existence, but if so they were invisible, distant,never alluded to. For what would have been the good? Davidsonalone was visibly married."Being married suited him exactly. It fitted him so well that thewildest of us did not resent the fact when it was disclosed.Directly he had felt his feet out here, Davidson sent for his wife.She came out (from West Australia) in the Somerset, under the careof Captain Ritchie--you know, Monkey-face Ritchie--who couldn'tpraise enough her sweetness, her gentleness, and her charm. Sheseemed to be the heaven-born mate for Davidson. She found onarrival a very pretty bungalow on the hill, ready for her and thelittle girl they had. Very soon he got for her a two-wheeled trapand a Burmah pony, and she used to drive down of an evening to pickup Davidson, on the quay. When Davidson, beaming, got into thetrap, it would become very full all at once."We used to admire Mrs. Davidson from a distance. It was a girlishhead out of a keepsake. From a distance. We had not manyopportunities for a closer view, because she did not care to givethem to us. We would have been glad to drop in at the Davidsonbungalow, but we were made to feel somehow that we were not verywelcome there. Not that she ever said anything ungracious. Shenever had much to say for herself. I was perhaps the one who sawmost of the Davidsons at home. What I noticed under thesuperficial aspect of vapid sweetness was her convex, obstinateforehead, and her small, red, pretty, ungenerous mouth. But then Iam an observer with strong prejudices. Most of us were fetched byher white, swan-like neck, by that drooping, innocent profile.There was a lot of latent devotion to Davidson's wife hereabouts,at that time, I can tell you. But my idea was that she repaid itby a profound suspicion of the sort of men we were; a mistrustwhich extended--I fancied--to her very husband at times. And Ithought then she was jealous of him in a way; though there were nowomen that she could be jealous about. She had no women's society.It's difficult for a shipmaster's wife unless there are othershipmasters' wives about, and there were none here then. I knowthat the dock manager's wife called on her; but that was all. Thefellows here formed the opinion that Mrs. Davidson was a meek, shylittle thing. She looked it, I must say. And this opinion was souniversal that the friend I have been telling you of remembered hisconversation with Davidson simply because of the statement aboutDavidson's wife. He even wondered to me: 'Fancy Mrs. Davidsonmaking a fuss to that extent. She didn't seem to me the sort ofwoman that would know how to make a fuss about anything.'"I wondered, too--but not so much. That bumpy forehead--eh? I hadalways suspected her of being silly. And I observed that Davidsonmust have been vexed by this display of wifely anxiety."My friend said: 'No. He seemed rather touched and distressed.There really was no one he could ask to relieve him; mainly becausehe intended to make a call in some God-forsaken creek, to look up afellow of the name of Bamtz who apparently had settled there.'"And again my friend wondered. 'Tell me,' he cried, 'whatconnection can there be between Davidson and such a creature asBamtz?'"I don't remember now what answer I made. A sufficient one couldhave been given in two words: 'Davidson's goodness.' THAT neverboggled at unworthiness if there was the slightest reason forcompassion. I don't want you to think that Davidson had nodiscrimination at all. Bamtz could not have imposed on him.Moreover, everybody knew what Bamtz was. He was a loafer with abeard. When I think of Bamtz, the first thing I see is that longblack beard and a lot of propitiatory wrinkles at the corners oftwo little eyes. There was no such beard from here to Polynesia,where a beard is a valuable property in itself. Bamtz's beard wasvaluable to him in another way. You know how impressed Orientalsare by a fine beard. Years and years ago, I remember, the graveAbdullah, the great trader of Sambir, unable to repress signs ofastonishment and admiration at the first sight of that imposingbeard. And it's very well known that Bamtz lived on Abdullah offand on for several years. It was a unique beard, and so was thebearer of the same. A unique loafer. He made a fine art of it, orrather a sort of craft and mystery. One can understand a fellowliving by cadging and small swindles in towns, in large communitiesof people; but Bamtz managed to do that trick in the wilderness, toloaf on the outskirts of the virgin forest."He understood how to ingratiate himself with the natives. Hewould arrive in some settlement up a river, make a present of acheap carbine or a pair of shoddy binoculars, or something of thatsort, to the Rajah, or the head-man, or the principal trader; andon the strength of that gift, ask for a house, posing mysteriouslyas a very special trader. He would spin them no end of yarns, liveon the fat of the land, for a while, and then do some mean swindleor other--or else they would get tired of him and ask him to quit.And he would go off meekly with an air of injured innocence. Funnylife. Yet, he never got hurt somehow. I've heard of the Rajah ofDongala giving him fifty dollars' worth of trade goods and payinghis passage in a prau only to get rid of him. Fact. And observethat nothing prevented the old fellow having Bamtz's throat cut andthe carcase thrown into deep water outside the reefs; for who onearth would have inquired after Bamtz?"He had been known to loaf up and down the wilderness as far northas the Gulf of Tonkin. Neither did he disdain a spell ofcivilisation from time to time. And it was while loafing andcadging in Saigon, bearded and dignified (he gave himself out thereas a bookkeeper), that he came across Laughing Anne."The less said of her early history the better, but something mustbe said. We may safely suppose there was very little heart left inher famous laugh when Bamtz spoke first to her in some low cafe.She was stranded in Saigon with precious little money and in greattrouble about a kid she had, a boy of five or six."A fellow I just remember, whom they called Pearler Harry, broughther out first into these parts--from Australia, I believe. Hebrought her out and then dropped her, and she remained knockingabout here and there, known to most of us by sight, at any rate.Everybody in the Archipelago had heard of Laughing Anne. She hadreally a pleasant silvery laugh always at her disposal, so tospeak, but it wasn't enough apparently to make her fortune. Thepoor creature was ready to stick to any half-decent man if he wouldonly let her, but she always got dropped, as it might have beenexpected."She had been left in Saigon by the skipper of a German ship withwhom she had been going up and down the China coast as far asVladivostok for near upon two years. The German said to her:'This is all over, mein Taubchen. I am going home now to getmarried to the girl I got engaged to before coming out here.' AndAnne said: 'All right, I'm ready to go. We part friends, don'twe?'"She was always anxious to part friends. The German told her thatof course they were parting friends. He looked rather glum at themoment of parting. She laughed and went ashore."But it was no laughing matter for her. She had some notion thatthis would be her last chance. What frightened her most was thefuture of her child. She had left her boy in Saigon before goingoff with the German, in the care of an elderly French couple. Thehusband was a doorkeeper in some Government office, but his timewas up, and they were returning to France. She had to take the boyback from them; and after she had got him back, she did not like topart with him any more."That was the situation when she and Bamtz got acquainted casually.She could not have had any illusions about that fellow. To pick upwith Bamtz was coming down pretty low in the world, even from amaterial point of view. She had always been decent, in her way;whereas Bamtz was, not to mince words, an abject sort of creature.On the other hand, that bearded loafer, who looked much more like apirate than a bookkeeper, was not a brute. He was gentle--rather--even in his cups. And then, despair, like misfortune, makes usacquainted with strange bed-fellows. For she may well havedespaired. She was no longer young--you know."On the man's side this conjunction is more difficult to explain,perhaps. One thing, however, must be said of Bamtz; he had alwayskept clear of native women. As one can't suspect him of moraldelicacy, I surmise that it must have been from prudence. And he,too, was no longer young. There were many white hairs in hisvaluable black beard by then. He may have simply longed for somekind of companionship in his queer, degraded existence. Whatevertheir motives, they vanished from Saigon together. And of coursenobody cared what had become of them."Six months later Davidson came into the Mirrah Settlement. It wasthe very first time he had been up that creek, where no Europeanvessel had ever been seen before. A Javanese passenger he had onboard offered him fifty dollars to call in there--it must have beensome very particular business--and Davidson consented to try.Fifty dollars, he told me, were neither here nor there; but he wascurious to see the place, and the little Sissie could go anywherewhere there was water enough to float a soup-plate."Davidson landed his Javanese plutocrat, and, as he had to wait acouple of hours for the tide, he went ashore himself to stretch hislegs."It was a small settlement. Some sixty houses, most of them builton piles over the river, the rest scattered in the long grass; theusual pathway at the back; the forest hemming in the clearing andsmothering what there might have been of air into a dead, hotstagnation."All the population was on the river-bank staring silently, asMalays will do, at the Sissie anchored in the stream. She wasalmost as wonderful to them as an angel's visit. Many of the oldpeople had only heard vaguely of fire-ships, and not many of theyounger generation had seen one. On the back path Davidsonstrolled in perfect solitude. But he became aware of a bad smelland concluded he would go no farther."While he stood wiping his forehead, he heard from somewhere theexclamation: 'My God! It's Davy!'"Davidson's lower jaw, as he expressed it, came unhooked at thecrying of this excited voice. Davy was the name used by theassociates of his young days; he hadn't heard it for many years.He stared about with his mouth open and saw a white woman issuefrom the long grass in which a small hut stood buried nearly up tothe roof."Try to imagine the shock: in that wild place that you couldn'tfind on a map, and more squalid than the most poverty-strickenMalay settlement had a right to be, this European woman comingswishing out of the long grass in a fanciful tea-gown thing, dingypink satin, with a long train and frayed lace trimmings; her eyeslike black coals in a pasty-white face. Davidson thought that hewas asleep, that he was delirious. From the offensive villagemudhole (it was what Davidson had sniffed just before) a couple offilthy buffaloes uprose with loud snorts and lumbered off crashingthrough the bushes, panic-struck by this apparition."The woman came forward, her arms extended, and laid her hands onDavidson's shoulders, exclaiming: 'Why! You have hardly changedat all. The same good Davy.' And she laughed a little wildly."This sound was to Davidson like a galvanic shock to a corpse. Hestarted in every muscle. 'Laughing Anne,' he said in an awe-struckvoice."'All that's left of her, Davy. All that's left of her.'"Davidson looked up at the sky; but there was to be seen no balloonfrom which she could have fallen on that spot. When he brought hisdistracted gaze down, it rested on a child holding on with a brownlittle paw to the pink satin gown. He had run out of the grassafter her. Had Davidson seen a real hobgoblin his eyes could nothave bulged more than at this small boy in a dirty white blouse andragged knickers. He had a round head of tight chestnut curls, verysunburnt legs, a freckled face, and merry eyes. Admonished by hismother to greet the gentleman, he finished off Davidson byaddressing him in French."'Bonjour.'"Davidson, overcome, looked up at the woman in silence. She sentthe child back to the hut, and when he had disappeared in thegrass, she turned to Davidson, tried to speak, but after gettingout the words, 'That's my Tony,' burst into a long fit of crying.She had to lean on Davidson's shoulder. He, distressed in thegoodness of his heart, stood rooted to the spot where she had comeupon him."What a meeting--eh? Bamtz had sent her out to see what white manit was who had landed. And she had recognised him from that timewhen Davidson, who had been pearling himself in his youth, had beenassociating with Harry the Pearler and others, the quietest of arather rowdy set."Before Davidson retraced his steps to go on board the steamer, hehad heard much of Laughing Anne's story, and had even had aninterview, on the path, with Bamtz himself. She ran back to thehut to fetch him, and he came out lounging, with his hands in hispockets, with the detached, casual manner under which he concealedhis propensity to cringe. Ya-a-as-as. He thought he would settlehere permanently--with her. This with a nod at Laughing Anne, whostood by, a haggard, tragically anxious figure, her black hairhanging over her shoulders."'No more paint and dyes for me, Davy,' she struck in, 'if only youwill do what he wants you to do. You know that I was always readyto stand by my men--if they had only let me.'"Davidson had no doubt of her earnestness. It was of Bamtz's goodfaith that he was not at all sure. Bamtz wanted Davidson topromise to call at Mirrah more or less regularly. He thought hesaw an opening to do business with rattans there, if only he coulddepend on some craft to bring out trading goods and take away hisproduce."'I have a few dollars to make a start on. The people are allright.'"He had come there, where he was not known, in a native prau, andhad managed, with his sedate manner and the exactly right kind ofyarn he knew how to tell to the natives, to ingratiate himself withthe chief man."'The Orang Kaya has given me that empty house there to live in aslong as I will stay,' added Bamtz."'Do it, Davy,' cried the woman suddenly. 'Think of that poorkid.'"'Seen him? 'Cute little customer,' said the reformed loafer insuch a tone of interest as to surprise Davidson into a kindlyglance."'I certainly can do it,' he declared. He thought of at firstmaking some stipulation as to Bamtz behaving decently to the woman,but his exaggerated delicacy and also the conviction that such afellow's promises were worth nothing restrained him. Anne went alittle distance down the path with him talking anxiously."'It's for the kid. How could I have kept him with me if I had toknock about in towns? Here he will never know that his mother wasa painted woman. And this Bamtz likes him. He's real fond of him.I suppose I ought to thank God for that.'"Davidson shuddered at any human creature being brought so low asto have to thank God for the favours or affection of a Bamtz."'And do you think that you can make out to live here?' he askedgently."'Can't I? You know I have always stuck to men through thick andthin till they had enough of me. And now look at me! But inside Iam as I always was. I have acted on the square to them all oneafter another. Only they do get tired somehow. Oh, Davy! Harryought not to have cast me off. It was he that led me astray.'"Davidson mentioned to her that Harry the Pearler had been dead nowfor some years. Perhaps she had heard?"She made a sign that she had heard; and walked by the side ofDavidson in silence nearly to the bank. Then she told him that hermeeting with him had brought back the old times to her mind. Shehad not cried for years. She was not a crying woman either. Itwas hearing herself called Laughing Anne that had started hersobbing like a fool. Harry was the only man she had loved. Theothers -"She shrugged her shoulders. But she prided herself on her loyaltyto the successive partners of her dismal adventures. She had neverplayed any tricks in her life. She was a pal worth having. Butmen did get tired. They did not understand women. She supposed ithad to be."Davidson was attempting a veiled warning as to Bamtz, but sheinterrupted him. She knew what men were. She knew what this manwas like. But he had taken wonderfully to the kid. And Davidsondesisted willingly, saying to himself that surely poor LaughingAnne could have no illusions by this time. She wrung his hand hardat parting."'It's for the kid, Davy--it's for the kid. Isn't he a brightlittle chap?'CHAPTER II"All this happened about two years before the day when Davidson,sitting in this very room, talked to my friend. You will seepresently how this room can get full. Every seat'll be occupied,and as you notice, the tables are set close, so that the backs ofthe chairs are almost touching. There is also a good deal of noisytalk here about one o'clock."I don't suppose Davidson was talking very loudly; but very likelyhe had to raise his voice across the table to my friend. And hereaccident, mere accident, put in its work by providing a pair offine ears close behind Davidson's chair. It was ten to oneagainst, the owner of the same having enough change in his pocketsto get his tiffin here. But he had. Most likely had rookedsomebody of a few dollars at cards overnight. He was a brightcreature of the name of Fector, a spare, short, jumpy fellow with ared face and muddy eyes. He described himself as a journalist ascertain kind of women give themselves out as actresses in the dockof a police-court."He used to introduce himself to strangers as a man with a missionto track out abuses and fight them whenever found. He would alsohint that he was a martyr. And it's a fact that he had beenkicked, horsewhipped, imprisoned, and hounded with ignominy out ofpretty well every place between Ceylon and Shanghai, for aprofessional blackmailer."I suppose, in that trade, you've got to have active wits and sharpears. It's not likely that he overheard every word Davidson saidabout his dollar collecting trip, but he heard enough to set hiswits at work."He let Davidson go out, and then hastened away down to the nativeslums to a sort of lodging-house kept in partnership by the usualsort of Portuguese and a very disreputable Chinaman. Macao Hotel,it was called, but it was mostly a gambling den that one used towarn fellows against. Perhaps you remember?"There, the evening before, Fector had met a precious couple, apartnership even more queer than the Portuguese and the Chinaman.One of the two was Niclaus--you know. Why! the fellow with aTartar moustache and a yellow complexion, like a Mongolian, onlythat his eyes were set straight and his face was not so flat. Onecouldn't tell what breed he was. A nondescript beggar. From acertain angle you would think a very bilious white man. And Idaresay he was. He owned a Malay prau and called himself TheNakhoda, as one would say: The Captain. Aha! Now you remember.He couldn't, apparently, speak any other European language thanEnglish, but he flew the Dutch flag on his prau."The other was the Frenchman without hands. Yes. The very same weused to know in '79 in Sydney, keeping a little tobacco shop at thelower end of George Street. You remember the huge carcase hunchedup behind the counter, the big white face and the long black hairbrushed back off a high forehead like a bard's. He was alwaystrying to roll cigarettes on his knee with his stumps, tellingendless yarns of Polynesia and whining and cursing in turn about'mon malheur.' His hands had been blown away by a dynamitecartridge while fishing in some lagoon. This accident, I believe,had made him more wicked than before, which is saying a good deal."He was always talking about 'resuming his activities' some day,whatever they were, if he could only get an intelligent companion.It was evident that the little shop was no field for hisactivities, and the sickly woman with her face tied up, who used tolook in sometimes through the back door, was no companion for him."And, true enough, he vanished from Sydney before long, after sometrouble with the Excise fellows about his stock. Goods stolen outof a warehouse or something similar. He left the woman behind, buthe must have secured some sort of companion--he could not haveshifted for himself; but whom he went away with, and where, andwhat other companions he might have picked up afterwards, it isimpossible to make the remotest guess about."Why exactly he came this way I can't tell. Towards the end of mytime here we began to hear talk of a maimed Frenchman who had beenseen here and there. But no one knew then that he had foregatheredwith Niclaus and lived in his prau. I daresay he put Niclaus up toa thing or two. Anyhow, it was a partnership. Niclaus wassomewhat afraid of the Frenchman on account of his tempers, whichwere awful. He looked then like a devil; but a man without hands,unable to load or handle a weapon, can at best go for one only withhis teeth. From that danger Niclaus felt certain he could alwaysdefend himself."The couple were alone together loafing in the common-room of thatinfamous hotel when Fector turned up. After some beating about thebush, for he was doubtful how far he could trust these two, herepeated what he had overheard in the tiffin-rooms."His tale did not have much success till he came to mention thecreek and Bamtz's name. Niclaus, sailing about like a native in aprau, was, in his own words, 'familiar with the locality.' Thehuge Frenchman, walking up and down the room with his stumps in thepockets of his jacket, stopped short in surprise. 'Comment?Bamtz! Bamtz!'"He had run across him several times in his life. He exclaimed:'Bamtz! Mais je ne connais que ca!' And he applied such acontemptuously indecent epithet to Bamtz that when, later, healluded to him as 'une chiffe' (a mere rag) it sounded quitecomplimentary. 'We can do with him what we like,' he assertedconfidently. 'Oh, yes. Certainly we must hasten to pay a visit tothat--' (another awful descriptive epithet quite unfit forrepetition). 'Devil take me if we don't pull off a coup that willset us all up for a long time.'"He saw all that lot of dollars melted into bars and disposed ofsomewhere on the China coast. Of the escape after the coup henever doubted. There was Niclaus's prau to manage that in."In his enthusiasm he pulled his stumps out of his pockets andwaved them about. Then, catching sight of them, as it were, heheld them in front of his eyes, cursing and blaspheming andbewailing his misfortune and his helplessness, till Niclaus quietedhim down."But it was his mind that planned out the affair and it was hisspirit which carried the other two on. Neither of them was of thebold buccaneer type; and Fector, especially, had never in hisadventurous life used other weapons than slander and lies."That very evening they departed on a visit to Bamtz in Niclaus'sprau, which had been lying, emptied of her cargo of cocoanuts, fora day or two under the canal bridge. They must have crossed thebows of the anchored Sissie, and no doubt looked at her withinterest as the scene of their future exploit, the great haul, legrand coup!"Davidson's wife, to his great surprise, sulked with him forseveral days before he left. I don't know whether it occurred tohim that, for all her angelic profile, she was a very stupidlyobstinate girl. She didn't like the tropics. He had brought herout there, where she had no friends, and now, she said, he wasbecoming inconsiderate. She had a presentiment of some misfortune,and notwithstanding Davidson's painstaking explanations, she couldnot see why her presentiments were to be disregarded. On the verylast evening before Davidson went away she asked him in asuspicious manner:"'Why is it that you are so anxious to go this time?'"'I am not anxious,' protested the good Davidson. 'I simply can'thelp myself. There's no one else to go in my place.'"'Oh! There's no one,' she said, turning away slowly."She was so distant with him that evening that Davidson from asense of delicacy made up his mind to say good-bye to her at onceand go and sleep on board. He felt very miserable and, strangelyenough, more on his own account than on account of his wife. Sheseemed to him much more offended than grieved."Three weeks later, having collected a good many cases of olddollars (they were stowed aft in the lazarette with an iron bar anda padlock securing the hatch under his cabin-table), yes, with abigger lot than he had expected to collect, he found himselfhomeward bound and off the entrance of the creek where Bamtz livedand even, in a sense, flourished."It was so late in the day that Davidson actually hesitated whetherhe should not pass by this time. He had no regard for Bamtz, whowas a degraded but not a really unhappy man. His pity for LaughingAnne was no more than her case deserved. But his goodness was of aparticularly delicate sort. He realised how these people weredependent on him, and how they would feel their dependence (if hefailed to turn up) through a long month of anxious waiting.Prompted by his sensitive humanity, Davidson, in the gatheringdusk, turned the Sissie's head towards the hardly discerniblecoast, and navigated her safety through a maze of shallow patches.But by the time he got to the mouth of the creek the night hadcome."The narrow waterway lay like a black cutting through the forest.And as there were always grounded snaggs in the channel which itwould be impossible to make out, Davidson very prudently turned theSissie round, and with only enough steam on the boilers to give hera touch ahead if necessary, let her drift up stern first with thetide, silent and invisible in the impenetrable darkness and in thedumb stillness."It was a long job, and when at the end of two hours Davidsonthought he must be up to the clearing, the settlement sleptalready, the whole land of forests and rivers was asleep."Davidson, seeing a solitary light in the massed darkness of theshore, knew that it was burning in Bamtz's house. This wasunexpected at this time of the night, but convenient as a guide.By a turn of the screw and a touch of the helm he sheered theSissie alongside Bamtz's wharf--a miserable structure of a dozenpiles and a few planks, of which the ex-vagabond was very proud. Acouple of Kalashes jumped down on it, took a turn with the ropesthrown to them round the posts, and the Sissie came to rest withouta single loud word or the slightest noise. And just in time too,for the tide turned even before she was properly moored."Davidson had something to eat, and then, coming on deck for a lastlook round, noticed that the light was still burning in the house."This was very unusual, but since they were awake so late, Davidsonthought that he would go up to say that he was in a hurry to be offand to ask that what rattans there were in store should be sent onboard with the first sign of dawn."He stepped carefully over the shaky planks, not being anxious toget a sprained ankle, and picked his way across the waste ground tothe foot of the house ladder. The house was but a glorified hut onpiles, unfenced and lonely."Like many a stout man, Davidson is very lightfooted. He climbedthe seven steps or so, stepped across the bamboo platform quietly,but what he saw through the doorway stopped him short."Four men were sitting by the light of a solitary candle. Therewas a bottle, a jug and glasses on the table, but they were notengaged in drinking. Two packs of cards were lying there too, butthey were not preparing to play. They were talking together inwhispers, and remained quite unaware of him. He himself was tooastonished to make a sound for some time. The world was still,except for the sibilation of the whispering heads bunched togetherover the table."And Davidson, as I have quoted him to you before, didn't like it.He didn't like it at all."The situation ended with a scream proceeding from the dark,interior part of the room. 'O Davy! you've given me a turn.'"Davidson made out beyond the table Anne's very pale face. Shelaughed a little hysterically, out of the deep shadows between thegloomy mat walls. 'Ha! ha! ha!'"The four heads sprang apart at the first sound, and four pairs ofeyes became fixed stonily on Davidson. The woman came forward,having little more on her than a loose chintz wrapper and strawslippers on her bare feet. Her head was tied up Malay fashion in ared handkerchief, with a mass of loose hair hanging under itbehind. Her professional, gay, European feathers had literallydropped off her in the course of these two years, but a longnecklace of amber beads hung round her uncovered neck. It was theonly ornament she had left; Bamtz had sold all her poor-enoughtrinkets during the flight from Saigon--when their associationbegan."She came forward, past the table, into the light, with her usualgroping gesture of extended arms, as though her soul, poor thing!had gone blind long ago, her white cheeks hollow, her eyes darklywild, distracted, as Davidson thought. She came on swiftly,grabbed him by the arm, dragged him in. 'It's heaven itself thatsends you to-night. My Tony's so bad--come and see him. Comealong--do!'"Davidson submitted. The only one of the men to move was Bamtz,who made as if to get up but dropped back in his chair again.Davidson in passing heard him mutter confusedly something thatsounded like 'poor little beggar.'"The child, lying very flushed in a miserable cot knocked up out ofgin-cases, stared at Davidson with wide, drowsy eyes. It was a badbout of fever clearly. But while Davidson was promising to go onboard and fetch some medicines, and generally trying to sayreassuring things, he could not help being struck by theextraordinary manner of the woman standing by his side. Gazingwith despairing expression down at the cot, she would suddenlythrow a quick, startled glance at Davidson and then towards theother room."'Yes, my poor girl,' he whispered, interpreting her distraction inhis own way, though he had nothing precise in his mind. 'I'mafraid this bodes no good to you. How is it they are here?'"She seized his forearm and breathed out forcibly: 'No good to me!Oh, no! But what about you! They are after the dollars you haveon board.'"Davidson let out an astonished 'How do they know there are anydollars?'"She clapped her hands lightly, in distress. 'So it's true! Youhave them on board? Then look out for yourself.'"They stood gazing down at the boy in the cot, aware that theymight be observed from the other room."'We must get him to perspire as soon as possible,' said Davidsonin his ordinary voice. 'You'll have to give him hot drink of somekind. I will go on board and bring you a spirit-kettle amongstother things.' And he added under his breath: 'Do they actuallymean murder?'"She made no sign, she had returned to her desolate contemplationof the boy. Davidson thought she had not heard him even, when withan unchanged expression she spoke under her breath."'The Frenchman would, in a minute. The others shirk it--unlessyou resist. He's a devil. He keeps them going. Without him theywould have done nothing but talk. I've got chummy with him. Whatcan you do when you are with a man like the fellow I am with now.Bamtz is terrified of them, and they know it. He's in it fromfunk. Oh, Davy! take your ship away--quick!'"'Too late,' said Davidson. 'She's on the mud already.'"If the kid hadn't been in this state I would have run off withhim--to you--into the woods--anywhere. Oh, Davy! will he die?' shecried aloud suddenly."Davidson met three men in the doorway. They made way for himwithout actually daring to face his glance. But Bamtz was the onlyone who looked down with an air of guilt. The big Frenchman hadremained lolling in his chair; he kept his stumps in his pocketsand addressed Davidson."'Isn't it unfortunate about that child! The distress of thatwoman there upsets me, but I am of no use in the world. I couldn'tsmooth the sick pillow of my dearest friend. I have no hands.Would you mind sticking one of those cigarettes there into themouth of a poor, harmless cripple? My nerves want soothing--uponmy honour, they do.'"Davidson complied with his naturally kind smile. As his outwardplacidity becomes only more pronounced, if possible, the morereason there is for excitement; and as Davidson's eyes, when hiswits are hard at work, get very still and as if sleepy, the hugeFrenchman might have been justified in concluding that the manthere was a mere sheep--a sheep ready for slaughter. With a 'mercibien' he uplifted his huge carcase to reach the light of the candlewith his cigarette, and Davidson left the house."Going down to the ship and returning, he had time to consider hisposition. At first he was inclined to believe that these men(Niclaus--the white Nakhoda--was the only one he knew by sightbefore, besides Bamtz) were not of the stamp to proceed toextremities. This was partly the reason why he never attempted totake any measures on board. His pacific Kalashes were not to bethought of as against white men. His wretched engineer would havehad a fit from fright at the mere idea of any sort of combat.Davidson knew that he would have to depend on himself in thisaffair if it ever came off."Davidson underestimated naturally the driving power of theFrenchman's character and the force of the actuating motive. Tothat man so hopelessly crippled these dollars were an enormousopportunity. With his share of the robbery he would open anothershop in Vladivostok, Haiphong, Manila--somewhere far away."Neither did it occur to Davidson, who is a man of courage, if everthere was one, that his psychology was not known to the world atlarge, and that to this particular lot of ruffians, who judged himby his appearance, he appeared an unsuspicious, inoffensive, softcreature, as he passed again through the room, his hands full ofvarious objects and parcels destined for the sick boy."All the four were sitting again round the table. Bamtz not havingthe pluck to open his mouth, it was Niclaus who, as a collectivevoice, called out to him thickly to come out soon and join in adrink."'I think I'll have to stay some little time in there, to help herlook after the boy,' Davidson answered without stopping."This was a good thing to say to allay a possible suspicion. And,as it was, Davidson felt he must not stay very long."He sat down on an old empty nail-keg near the improvised cot andlooked at the child; while Laughing Anne, moving to and fro,preparing the hot drink, giving it to the boy in spoonfuls, orstopping to gaze motionless at the flushed face, whispereddisjointed bits of information. She had succeeded in makingfriends with that French devil. Davy would understand that sheknew how to make herself pleasant to a man."And Davidson nodded without looking at her."The big beast had got to be quite confidential with her. She heldhis cards for him when they were having a game. Bamtz! Oh! Bamtzin his funk was only too glad to see the Frenchman humoured. Andthe Frenchman had come to believe that she was a woman who didn'tcare what she did. That's how it came about they got to talkbefore her openly. For a long time she could not make out whatgame they were up to. The new arrivals, not expecting to find awoman with Bamtz, had been very startled and annoyed at first, sheexplained."She busied herself in attending to the boy; and nobody lookinginto that room would have seen anything suspicious in those twopeople exchanging murmurs by the sick-bedside."'But now they think I am a better man than Bamtz ever was,' shesaid with a faint laugh."The child moaned. She went down on her knees, and, bending low,contemplated him mournfully. Then raising her head, she askedDavidson whether he thought the child would get better. Davidsonwas sure of it. She murmured sadly: 'Poor kid. There's nothingin life for such as he. Not a dog's chance. But I couldn't lethim go, Davy! I couldn't.'"Davidson felt a profound pity for the child. She laid her hand onhis knee and whispered an earnest warning against the Frenchman.Davy must never let him come to close quarters. Naturally Davidsonwanted to know the reason, for a man without hands did not strikehim as very formidable under any circumstances."'Mind you don't let him--that's all,' she insisted anxiously,hesitated, and then confessed that the Frenchman had got her awayfrom the others that afternoon and had ordered her to tie a seven-pound iron weight (out of the set of weights Bamtz used inbusiness) to his right stump. She had to do it for him. She hadbeen afraid of his savage temper. Bamtz was such a craven, andneither of the other men would have cared what happened to her.The Frenchman, however, with many awful threats had warned her notto let the others know what she had done for him. Afterwards hehad been trying to cajole her. He had promised her that if shestood by him faithfully in this business he would take her with himto Haiphong or some other place. A poor cripple needed somebody totake care of him--always."Davidson asked her again if they really meant mischief. It was,he told me, the hardest thing to believe he had run up against, asyet, in his life. Anne nodded. The Frenchman's heart was set onthis robbery. Davy might expect them, about midnight, creeping onboard his ship, to steal anyhow--to murder, perhaps. Her voicesounded weary, and her eyes remained fastened on her child."And still Davidson could not accept it somehow; his contempt forthese men was too great."'Look here, Davy,' she said. 'I'll go outside with them when theystart, and it will be hard luck if I don't find something to laughat. They are used to that from me. Laugh or cry--what's the odds.You will be able to hear me on board on this quiet night. Dark itis too. Oh! it's dark, Davy!--it's dark!'"'Don't you run any risks,' said Davidson. Presently he called herattention to the boy, who, less flushed now, had dropped into asound sleep. 'Look. He'll be all right.'"She made as if to snatch the child up to her breast, butrestrained herself. Davidson prepared to go. She whisperedhurriedly:"'Mind, Davy! I've told them that you generally sleep aft in thehammock under the awning over the cabin. They have been asking meabout your ways and about your ship, too. I told them all I knew.I had to keep in with them. And Bamtz would have told them if Ihadn't--you understand?'"He made a friendly sign and went out. The men about the table(except Bamtz) looked at him. This time it was Fector who spoke.'Won't you join us in a quiet game, Captain?'"Davidson said that now the child was better he thought he would goon board and turn in. Fector was the only one of the four whom hehad, so to speak, never seen, for he had had a good look at theFrenchman already. He observed Fector's muddy eyes, his mean,bitter mouth. Davidson's contempt for those men rose in his gorge,while his placid smile, his gentle tones and general air ofinnocence put heart into them. They exchanged meaning glances."'We shall be sitting late over the cards,' Fector said in hisharsh, low voice."'Don't make more noise than you can help.'"'Oh! we are a quiet lot. And if the invalid shouldn't be so well,she will be sure to send one of us down to call you, so that youmay play the doctor again. So don't shoot at sight.'"'He isn't a shooting man,' struck in Niclaus."'I never shoot before making sure there's a reason for it--at anyrate,' said Davidson."Bamtz let out a sickly snigger. The Frenchman alone got up tomake a bow to Davidson's careless nod. His stumps were stuckimmovably in his pockets. Davidson understood now the reason."He went down to the ship. His wits were working actively, and hewas thoroughly angry. He smiled, he says (it must have been thefirst grim smile of his life), at the thought of the seven-poundweight lashed to the end of the Frenchman's stump. The ruffian hadtaken that precaution in case of a quarrel that might arise overthe division of the spoil. A man with an unsuspected power to dealkilling blows could take his own part in a sudden scrimmage round aheap of money, even against adversaries armed with revolvers,especially if he himself started the row."'He's ready to face any of his friends with that thing. But hewill have no use for it. There will be no occasion to quarrelabout these dollars here,' thought Davidson, getting on boardquietly. He never paused to look if there was anybody about thedecks. As a matter of fact, most of his crew were on shore, andthe rest slept, stowed away in dark corners."He had his plan, and he went to work methodically."He fetched a lot of clothing from below and disposed it in hishammock in such a way as to distend it to the shape of a humanbody; then he threw over all the light cotton sheet he used to drawover himself when sleeping on deck. Having done this, he loadedhis two revolvers and clambered into one of the boats the Sissiecarried right aft, swung out on their davits. Then he waited."And again the doubt of such a thing happening to him crept intohis mind. He was almost ashamed of this ridiculous vigil in aboat. He became bored. And then he became drowsy. The stillnessof the black universe wearied him. There was not even the lappingof the water to keep him company, for the tide was out and theSissie was lying on soft mud. Suddenly in the breathless,soundless, hot night an argus pheasant screamed in the woods acrossthe stream. Davidson started violently, all his senses on thealert at once."The candle was still burning in the house. Everything was quietagain, but Davidson felt drowsy no longer. An uneasy premonitionof evil oppressed him."'Surely I am not afraid,' he argued with himself."The silence was like a seal on his ears, and his nervous inwardimpatience grew intolerable. He commanded himself to keep still.But all the same he was just going to jump out of the boat when afaint ripple on the immensity of silence, a mere tremor in the air,the ghost of a silvery laugh, reached his ears."Illusion!"He kept very still. He had no difficulty now in emulating thestillness of the mouse--a grimly determined mouse. But he couldnot shake off that premonition of evil unrelated to the mere dangerof the situation. Nothing happened. It had been an illusion!"A curiosity came to him to learn how they would go to work. Hewondered and wondered, till the whole thing seemed more absurd thanever."He had left the hanging lamp in the cabin burning as usual. Itwas part of his plan that everything should be as usual. Suddenlyin the dim glow of the skylight panes a bulky shadow came up theladder without a sound, made two steps towards the hammock (it hungright over the skylight), and stood motionless. The Frenchman!"The minutes began to slip away. Davidson guessed that theFrenchman's part (the poor cripple) was to watch his (Davidson's)slumbers while the others were no doubt in the cabin busy forcingoff the lazarette hatch."What was the course they meant to pursue once they got hold of thesilver (there were ten cases, and each could be carried easily bytwo men) nobody can tell now. But so far, Davidson was right.They were in the cabin. He expected to hear the sounds ofbreaking-in every moment. But the fact was that one of them(perhaps Fector, who had stolen papers out of desks in his time)knew how to pick a lock, and apparently was provided with thetools. Thus while Davidson expected every moment to hear thembegin down there, they had the bar off already and two casesactually up in the cabin out of the lazarette."In the diffused faint glow of the skylight the Frenchman moved nomore than a statue. Davidson could have shot him with the greatestease--but he was not homicidally inclined. Moreover, he wanted tomake sure before opening fire that the others had gone to work.Not hearing the sounds he expected to hear, he felt uncertainwhether they all were on board yet."While he listened, the Frenchman, whose immobility might have butcloaked an internal struggle; moved forward a pace, then another.Davidson, entranced, watched him advance one leg, withdraw hisright stump, the armed one, out of his pocket, and swinging hisbody to put greater force into the blow, bring the seven-poundweight down on the hammock where the head of the sleeper ought tohave been."Davidson admitted to me that his hair stirred at the roots then.But for Anne, his unsuspecting head would have been there. TheFrenchman's surprise must have been simply overwhelming. Hestaggered away from the lightly swinging hammock, and beforeDavidson could make a movement he had vanished, bounding down theladder to warn and alarm the other fellows."Davidson sprang instantly out of the boat, threw up the skylightflap, and had a glimpse of the men down there crouching round thehatch. They looked up scared, and at that moment the Frenchmanoutside the door bellowed out 'Trahison--trahison!' They boltedout of the cabin, falling over each other and swearing awfully.The shot Davidson let off down the skylight had hit no one; but heran to the edge of the cabin-top and at once opened fire at thedark shapes rushing about the deck. These shots were returned, anda rapid fusillade burst out, reports and flashes, Davidson dodgingbehind a ventilator and pulling the trigger till his revolverclicked, and then throwing it down to take the other in his righthand."He had been hearing in the din the Frenchman's infuriated yells'Tuez-le! tuez-le!' above the fierce cursing of the others. Butthough they fired at him they were only thinking of clearing out.In the flashes of the last shots Davidson saw them scrambling overthe rail. That he had hit more than one he was certain. Twodifferent voices had cried out in pain. But apparently none ofthem were disabled."Davidson leaned against the bulwark reloading his revolver withouthaste. He had not the slightest apprehension of their coming back.On the other hand, he had no intention of pursuing them on shore inthe dark. What they were doing he had no idea. Looking to theirhurts probably. Not very far from the bank the invisible Frenchmanwas blaspheming and cursing his associates, his luck, and all theworld. He ceased; then with a sudden, vengeful yell, 'It's thatwoman!--it's that woman that has sold us,' was heard running off inthe night."Davidson caught his breath in a sudden pang of remorse. Heperceived with dismay that the stratagem of his defence had givenAnne away. He did not hesitate a moment. It was for him to saveher now. He leaped ashore. But even as he landed on the wharf heheard a shrill shriek which pierced his very soul."The light was still burning in the house. Davidson, revolver inhand, was making for it when another shriek, away to his left, madehim change his direction."He changed his direction--but very soon he stopped. It was thenthat he hesitated in cruel perplexity. He guessed what hadhappened. The woman had managed to escape from the house in someway, and now was being chased in the open by the infuriatedFrenchman. He trusted she would try to run on board forprotection."All was still around Davidson. Whether she had run on board ornot, this silence meant that the Frenchman had lost her in thedark."Davidson, relieved, but still very anxious, turned towards theriver-side. He had not made two steps in that direction whenanother shriek burst out behind him, again close to the house."He thinks that the Frenchman had lost sight of the poor womanright enough. Then came that period of silence. But the horribleruffian had not given up his murderous purpose. He reasoned thatshe would try to steal back to her child, and went to lie in waitfor her near the house."It must have been something like that. As she entered the lightfalling about the house-ladder, he had rushed at her too soon,impatient for vengeance. She had let out that second scream ofmortal fear when she caught sight of him, and turned to run forlife again."This time she was making for the river, but not in a straightline. Her shrieks circled about Davidson. He turned on his heels,following the horrible trail of sound in the darkness. He wantedto shout 'This way, Anne! I am here!' but he couldn't. At thehorror of this chase, more ghastly in his imagination than if hecould have seen it, the perspiration broke out on his forehead,while his throat was as dry as tinder. A last supreme scream wascut short suddenly."The silence which ensued was even more dreadful. Davidson feltsick. He tore his feet from the spot and walked straight beforehim, gripping the revolver and peering into the obscurityfearfully. Suddenly a bulky shape sprang from the ground within afew yards of him and bounded away. Instinctively he fired at it,started to run in pursuit, and stumbled against something softwhich threw him down headlong."Even as he pitched forward on his head he knew it could be nothingelse but Laughing Anne's body. He picked himself up and, remainingon his knees, tried to lift her in his arms. He felt her so limpthat he gave it up. She was lying on her face, her long hairscattered on the ground. Some of it was wet. Davidson, feelingabout her head, came to a place where the crushed bone gave wayunder his fingers. But even before that discovery he knew that shewas dead. The pursuing Frenchman had flung her down with a kickfrom behind, and, squatting on her back, was battering in her skullwith the weight she herself had fastened to his stump, when thetotally unexpected Davidson loomed up in the night and scared himaway."Davidson, kneeling by the side of that woman done so miserably todeath, was overcome by remorse. She had died for him. His manhoodwas as if stunned. For the first time he felt afraid. He mighthave been pounced upon in the dark at any moment by the murderer ofLaughing Anne. He confesses to the impulse of creeping away fromthat pitiful corpse on his hands and knees to the refuge of theship. He even says that he actually began to do so. . ."One can hardly picture to oneself Davidson crawling away on allfours from the murdered woman--Davidson unmanned and crushed by theidea that she had died for him in a sense. But he could not havegone very far. What stopped him was the thought of the boy,Laughing Anne's child, that (Davidson remembered her very words)would not have a dog's chance."This life the woman had left behind her appeared to Davidson'sconscience in the light of a sacred trust. He assumed an erectattitude and, quaking inwardly still, turned about and walkedtowards the house."For all his tremors he was very determined; but that smashed skullhad affected his imagination, and he felt very defenceless in thedarkness, in which he seemed to hear faintly now here, now there,the prowling footsteps of the murderer without hands. But he neverfaltered in his purpose. He got away with the boy safely afterall. The house he found empty. A profound silence encompassed himall the time, except once, just as he got down the ladder with Tonyin his arms, when a faint groan reached his ears. It seemed tocome from the pitch-black space between the posts on which thehouse was built, but he did not stop to investigate."It's no use telling you in detail how Davidson got on board withthe burden Anne's miserably cruel fate had thrust into his arms;how next morning his scared crew, after observing from a distancethe state of affairs on board, rejoined with alacrity; how Davidsonwent ashore and, aided by his engineer (still half dead withfright), rolled up Laughing Anne's body in a cotton sheet andbrought it on board for burial at sea later. While busy with thispious task, Davidson, glancing about, perceived a huge heap ofwhite clothes huddled up against the corner-post of the house.That it was the Frenchman lying there he could not doubt. Takingit in connection with the dismal groan he had heard in the night,Davidson is pretty sure that his random shot gave a mortal hurt tothe murderer of poor Anne."As to the others, Davidson never set eyes on a single one of them.Whether they had concealed themselves in the scared settlement, orbolted into the forest, or were hiding on board Niclaus's prau,which could be seen lying on the mud a hundred yards or so higherup the creek, the fact is that they vanished; and Davidson did nottrouble his head about them. He lost no time in getting out of thecreek directly the Sissie floated. After steaming some twentymiles clear of the coast, he (in his own words) 'committed the bodyto the deep.' He did everything himself. He weighted her downwith a few fire-bars, he read the service, he lifted the plank, hewas the only mourner. And while he was rendering these lastservices to the dead, the desolation of that life and the atrociouswretchedness of its end cried aloud to his compassion, whispered tohim in tones of self-reproach."He ought to have handled the warning she had given him in anotherway. He was convinced now that a simple display of watchfulnesswould have been enough to restrain that vile and cowardly crew.But the fact was that he had not quite believed that anything wouldbe attempted."The body of Laughing Anne having been 'committed to the deep' sometwenty miles S.S.W. from Cape Selatan, the task before Davidson wasto commit Laughing Anne's child to the care of his wife. And therepoor, good Davidson made a fatal move. He didn't want to tell herthe whole awful story, since it involved the knowledge of thedanger from which he, Davidson, had escaped. And this, too, afterhe had been laughing at her unreasonable fears only a short timebefore."'I thought that if I told her everything,' Davidson explained tome, 'she would never have a moment's peace while I was away on mytrips.'"He simply stated that the boy was an orphan, the child of somepeople to whom he, Davidson, was under the greatest obligation, andthat he felt morally bound to look after him. Some day he wouldtell her more, he said, and meantime he trusted in the goodness andwarmth of her heart, in her woman's natural compassion."He did not know that her heart was about the size of a parchedpea, and had the proportional amount of warmth; and that herfaculty of compassion was mainly directed to herself. He was onlystartled and disappointed at the air of cold surprise and thesuspicious look with which she received his imperfect tale. Butshe did not say much. She never had much to say. She was a foolof the silent, hopeless kind."What story Davidson's crew thought fit to set afloat in Malay townis neither here nor there. Davidson himself took some of hisfriends into his confidence, besides giving the full storyofficially to the Harbour Master."The Harbour Master was considerably astonished. He didn't think,however, that a formal complaint should be made to the DutchGovernment. They would probably do nothing in the end, after a lotof trouble and correspondence. The robbery had not come off, afterall. Those vagabonds could be trusted to go to the devil in theirown way. No amount of fuss would bring the poor woman to lifeagain, and the actual murderer had been done justice to by a chanceshot from Davidson. Better let the matter drop."This was good common sense. But he was impressed."'Sounds a terrible affair, Captain Davidson.'"'Aye, terrible enough,' agreed the remorseful Davidson. But themost terrible thing for him, though he didn't know it yet then, wasthat his wife's silly brain was slowly coming to the conclusionthat Tony was Davidson's child, and that he had invented that lamestory to introduce him into her pure home in defiance of decency,of virtue--of her most sacred feelings."Davidson was aware of some constraint in his domestic relations.But at the best of times she was not demonstrative; and perhapsthat very coldness was part of her charm in the placid Davidson'seyes. Women are loved for all sorts of reasons and even forcharacteristics which one would think repellent. She was watchinghim and nursing her suspicions."Then, one day, Monkey-faced Ritchie called on that sweet, shy Mrs.Davidson. She had come out under his care, and he consideredhimself a privileged person--her oldest friend in the tropics. Heposed for a great admirer of hers. He was always a greatchatterer. He had got hold of the story rather vaguely, and hestarted chattering on that subject, thinking she knew all about it.And in due course he let out something about Laughing Anne."'Laughing Anne,' says Mrs. Davidson with a start. 'What's that?'Ritchie plunged into circumlocution at once, but she very soonstopped him. 'Is that creature dead?' she asks."'I believe so,' stammered Ritchie. 'Your husband says so.'"'But you don't know for certain?'"'No! How could I, Mrs. Davidson!'"'That's all wanted to know,' says she, and goes out of the room."When Davidson came home she was ready to go for him, not withcommon voluble indignation, but as if trickling a stream of coldclear water down his back. She talked of his base intrigue with avile woman, of being made a fool of, of the insult to her dignity."Davidson begged her to listen to him and told her all the story,thinking that it would move a heart of stone. He tried to make herunderstand his remorse. She heard him to the end, said 'Indeed!'and turned her back on him."'Don't you believe me?' he asked, appalled."She didn't say yes or no. All she said was, 'Send that brat awayat once.'"'I can't throw him out into the street,' cried Davidson. 'Youdon't mean it.'"'I don't care. There are charitable institutions for suchchildren, I suppose.'"'That I will never do,' said Davidson."'Very well. That's enough for me.'"Davidson's home after this was like a silent, frozen hell for him.A stupid woman with a sense of grievance is worse than an unchaineddevil. He sent the boy to the White Fathers in Malacca. This wasnot a very expensive sort of education, but she could not forgivehim for not casting the offensive child away utterly. She workedup her sense of her wifely wrongs and of her injured purity to sucha pitch that one day, when poor Davidson was pleading with her tobe reasonable and not to make an impossible existence for themboth, she turned on him in a chill passion and told him that hisvery sight was odious to her."Davidson, with his scrupulous delicacy of feeling, was not the manto assert his rights over a woman who could not bear the sight ofhim. He bowed his head; and shortly afterwards arranged for her togo back to her parents. That was exactly what she wanted in heroutraged dignity. And then she had always disliked the tropics andhad detested secretly the people she had to live amongst asDavidson's wife. She took her pure, sensitive, mean little soulaway to Fremantle or somewhere in that direction. And of coursethe little girl went away with her too. What could poor Davidsonhave done with a little girl on his hands, even if she hadconsented to leave her with him--which is unthinkable."This is the story that has spoiled Davidson's smile for him--whichperhaps it wouldn't have done so thoroughly had he been less of agood fellow."Hollis ceased. But before we rose from the table I asked him if heknew what had become of Laughing Anne's boy.He counted carefully the change handed him by the Chinaman waiter,and raised his head."Oh! that's the finishing touch. He was a bright, taking littlechap, as you know, and the Fathers took very special pains in hisbringing up. Davidson expected in his heart to have some comfortout of him. In his placid way he's a man who needs affection.Well, Tony has grown into a fine youth--but there you are! Hewants to be a priest; his one dream is to be a missionary. TheFathers assure Davidson that it is a serious vocation. They tellhim he has a special disposition for mission work, too. SoLaughing Anne's boy will lead a saintly life in China somewhere; hemay even become a martyr; but poor Davidson is left out in thecold. He will have to go downhill without a single human affectionnear him because of these old dollars."Jan. 1914[From Within the Tides]

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