Читать книгу The Dark Road - Harold Bindloss - Страница 6

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At seven o'clock in the morning Welland went on deck. The engines were stopped and the yacht rolled languidly. Her freshly scrubbed deck began to dry in the rising sun, and Welland, pulling a chair where the bright beams struck, leisurely looked about.

In the west, a level belt of mist cut the sparkling sea. Somewhere behind it was the land, and Welland imagined that was all the captain knew. He himself was content to wait. He liked his American hosts; since he had much to do with cultivated people a number of years had gone, and after the African factories, the Shenandoah's cleanness was something fresh. Nickel and brass were polished, the narrow planks that followed the deck's curve were spotless. The ropes were white Manila, and the coils were even on the shining pins. All stood for wealth and calculated efficiency. Welland smiled, a dreary smile. At one time he had thought he might be rich; now he was a broken adventurer whom his hosts had hired.

He heard breathless shouts and saw Huysler and Nilson swim round the ship. Nilson swam like a porpoise, his powerful white body shining in the foam he tossed about. His hair was yellow and sparkled when his swinging arm lifted his head. Nilson's home was in Minnesota and his was the pure Nordic type. Welland understood his main occupation was to hunt Canadian moose and sail a yacht on the Great Lakes.

Twenty yards behind the other Huysler plowed along. Welland admitted the boy could swim, but he had not Nilson's splendid vitality and force. They turned to cross the bows, and Captain Grant jumped on the rail.

"Come on out of it, boys," he ordered. "I don't want to fight a shark for you."

They steered for the ladder and on the top platform Nilson stretched his arms and rubbed the water from his skin. His body was molded like a Greek statue, but his color was Scandinavian white and red. Huysler, climbing the steps, was rather pale-olive and brown. His type was the thick-necked, rather fleshy type that has recently emerged in the Middle Western States, but he was athletic and his look was frank. The captain gave them a dry approving smile.

"If you want to make old bones, you got to use some sense."

"I don't know if I'm keen," said Nilson with a laugh. "So long as you are young, the proper line's to let yourself go all out. When I do get stiff and cautious, I'll look for a skipper's job."

Singing in a full-throated voice, he ran along the deck; Huysler draped himself in a towel and sat down on the planks by Welland's chair.

"If we had thought you were up, we'd have waited for you to join us. Have you got a cigarette?"

Welland gave him a cigarette. "I have spent ten years in hot countries and when I bathe I use hot water. The habit has some advantages you may presently find out. But I don't suppose your object was to talk about your swim."

"Oh, well," said Huysler, with a smile, "after the plunge I like the sun on my skin; but there is another thing—I believe Helen means to talk to you about our excursion. She rather likes you, sir."

"That's something, Mr. Huysler. I have met people who did not like me."

The boy nodded as if he understood. Welland was very thin, his face was lined, and his shoulders were slightly bent. Nothing indicated muscular strength, but somehow his level glance was commanding. Huysler knew he was not the sort one bluffed.

"Among friends, I'm Jack Huysler, Jake for short. Anyhow, the old man kind of took a shine to you, and one can't cheat him. He reckoned if we got up against it and I was in doubt, what you said would go. Carthew, of course, is chief, and a good sort, but he's English, and somehow stands you off."

For all Carthew's charm, Welland had felt something like that, and, since he knew men, he was puzzled. Jack Huysler, by contrast, was boyishly sincere and frank; a good example of fearless, trustful youth.

"I'm rather bucked, Jack; but we will not bother to be polite. Miss Whitney is going to interview me. Well?"

"Now all's ready for us to push off, she begins to be disturbed. I think she feels herself accountable."

"Is Miss Whitney accountable?" Welland inquired.

"To some extent," said Huysler, with a touch of hesitation. "Helen's a sport, but she's serious. If you get me, it's the proper word. There's a type of American girl who doesn't give herself altogether to jazz and extravagance, you know. In fact, her notion is an American ought to work."

"I imagine a large number do work," Welland remarked.

Huysler gave him an apologetic smile. "I mustn't bore you; but I didn't mean to loaf. My plan was to take up car-racing, and when Carthew came along I was weighing an Alaskan aero-exploration stunt. The trouble was, Helen and my father did not approve. At the office, the old man is great, but you could buy for five dollars all the joy he gets from life. He thinks varnish; I guess he dreams varnish; and, but for two or three hours evenings, he lives at the factory. If all you want is an office chair, where's the use in getting rich? Anyhow, he's a good father, and since Helen and he agree, I've got to indulge them. Carthew's scheme is a business proposition."

Welland noticed that Jack did not inquire if he thought Carthew would find the gum. All the young fellow wanted was to persuade the girl he loved he was not a loafer. His ambition, so far as it went, was praiseworthy.

"Then my part is to satisfy Miss Whitney you do not run much risk? You'd sooner she thought our excursion something like a summer camping-trip. Well, although I don't know much about Central America, I doubt if I can honestly undertake the job."

"Helen is not a fool," said Huysler, smiling. "You do know something about swamps and fever. I don't want her to worry; that's all."

Light shoes tapped the planks and a girl's white clothes shone in the dazzling sun. Huysler jumped up and fled, and Welland frowned. If Miss Whitney had seen that they were engaged in confidential talk, he would sooner Jack had gone before. Then he saw the girl was not Miss Whitney. Adela Carthew was frankly English, although she was short and light. Her eyes were blue, her hair was yellow; she was young and not sophisticated, but Welland knew her to be a thoroughbred. He fetched her a chair.

"The engines are stopped," she said. "When does Captain Grant expect to land you?"

"In six or seven hours. We must wait for the mist to lift."

Adela Carthew studied the deck planks, and then gave Welland a hesitating glance.

"Are you keen about going? I expect you, at all events, understand the difficulties."

"I agreed to go. Since I'm not remarkably rash, that is something. But Mr. Carthew has explored the country, and if you want particulars, he is the proper man—"

Adela smiled. "You play up, but I'd like you to be open. My father, a long time since, surveyed the coast and was afterwards in the forests for, I think, two or three months. You have lived among savages in a country where sickness is common."

"The Africans are not altogether savages, and I believe the Central American natives, for the most part, anyhow, are tame and industrious. Then our party is supplied with all the stores and medicines Mr. Carthew and I imagine an expedition ought to carry. I really have no grounds to doubt our making good."

"Some supplies are rifle cartridges," said Adela meaningly. "You are second in command, and Father must consult with you. He is not young, Mr. Welland, and I think he feels to find the gum is the last chance he may get. Then he's something of a gambler and his habit is to trust his luck. Yours, perhaps, is not—"

Welland saw frankness cost her something, for delicate color touched her face. Although he was sympathetic, he felt her trust, in a way, was humorous. By contrast with her fresh youth, she thought him old and wise. Yet he was rather battered by adverse fortune, and he carried the marks he had got in Africa.

"Oh, well," he said, "on the whole, my luck has not been remarkably good."

"Father's is not good," said Adela impulsively. "I'm afraid he may be rash—and he is all I've got."

It looked as if she loved Carthew, and yet knew his drawbacks. Welland himself acknowledged his leader's charm.

"But you have some relations and friends."

"They are not numerous. My mother is dead, and when I came back from school we lived in France and Belgium—But you cannot be interested and perhaps I ought not to have bothered you. All the same, Father is not very cautious and the others are boys."

Welland admitted he had not Nilson's splendid youth and strength. To envy the young fellow was ridiculous, and the girl's trust moved him. She knew he would not think her disloyal, although she, so to speak, asked him to guard, and perhaps control, his commander. Besides, he rather thought she knew her embarrassed statements told him much. He wanted to soothe and comfort her, but he was neither young nor old enough to do so properly.

"Where Mr. Carthew needs my help, it is his," he said. "Then I'm not at all adventurous, and, so far as my counsel goes, you can reckon on our taking the prudent line."

Adela got up. "Thank you; it's all I want." She gave him a smile. "You don't promise rashly; but I think you're stanch."

Welland let her go and walked about the deck. Queer emotional impulses he had thought he had long since done with bothered him, but he was a broken adventurer and must not be cheated by romantic sentiment. By and by a bell rang and he joined the party in the white-and-gold saloon.

Although they had not known him long, his hosts were kind. The Americans, he knew, were a hospitable lot, and he felt they would be sorry to let their guests go. Welland frankly admitted that if he were as rich as the others, he would stop on board. His breakfast, for example, was skilfully served, and the sunbeams that pierced the skylights sparkled on fine silver and delicate glass. A sweet-potato vine trailed across the spotless beams, and the gilt molding shone behind the leaves.

Carthew rather cleverly steered the talk away from the expedition. The fellow certainly did not want to be thought an intrepid explorer; one felt he stood for the British navy's traditional reserve. Humorously urbane and cultivated, he led the others where he wanted them to go. Yet all were cultivated, and some were keen.

Welland saw that Miss Whitney studied Carthew. Her eyes and hair were brown; she was tall and nobly built, and her look was proud. Welland thought her forceful and keenly intelligent. His social talents, however, were not remarkable, and he concentrated on his breakfast. Before he got another of the sort some time might pass.

When breakfast was over the mist rolled back. The coast was like a low green band, and the Shenandoah went ahead. After five or six hours she stopped in an open bay. Dark forest rolled along the beach; in some places it looked as if the trees grew in the water, but one saw yellow sandy belts, bordered by white. The sea breeze blew fresh and the captain came down from his bridge.

"We have made it," he said. "All the same, some surf is running and I can't risk my boats on the bar. Maybe she'll smooth at sunset, when the wind comes off the land."

I'm afraid we must wait," Carthew agreed. "To ship salt water might damage our stores."

For all the boisterous wind, the afternoon was hot, and the passengers stole away to sleep, if possible, in shady spots. Welland found a cool corner under a lifeboat, and had begun to imagine he was back in the African hinterland when he was mechanically conscious of somebody about. In a moment his body was braced and his brain alert. Helen Whitney, a yard or two off, laughed.

"If I disturbed you, I am sorry."

"I'm not disturbed," said Welland. "If I'd had a moment's warning, I might have known the proper word."

"Sincerity is perhaps as useful as labored politeness. The queer thing is, you did not expect me, although I think you ought to have done so."

"Your keenness is rather remarkable," Welland rejoined.

"I know Jack. A girl does know her lover, and Jack, of course, is mine. Although he's a dear, he's rather obvious; but perhaps all young men are—"

"He declared you were not a fool," Welland observed.

Helen Whitney smiled. "When he gave you your cue? Perhaps it's strange, but I imagine one or two other people have recently given you their confidence. Can you account for it?"

"One must be modest. Besides, if your supposition were accurate, the people, for all you know, might be rash. However, you wanted to talk to me?"

"That is so, Mr. Welland. I wanted a sympathetic audience. I think I wanted to be comforted, and I'm willing for you to persuade me that Mr. Carthew's adventure is as safe as he claims. I do not doubt his honesty, but some men are recklessly hopeful."

Welland agreed. Carthew was hopeful. Although his hair was touched by white, he was marked by a sort of infectious, youthful enthusiasm. Yet two women, one of whom was his daughter, were not carried away.

"He satisfied Mr. Whitney and Mr. Huysler. They are American business men."

Helen turned. Her bantering smile vanished; her look was disturbed but not embarrassed. Welland fronted her calmly. In the worn adventurer she sensed a quiet steadfastness that somehow was comforting.

"Ah," she said, "my father and Huysler risk their money; I risk my lover. Then, in a way, I persuaded them, and but for me Jack would not have gone. Perhaps I wanted our friends to know the stuff he is; but it was not altogether girlish vanity—He ought to have a useful occupation, and, if Carthew did find the gum, I thought Jack might superintend—Where he's interested he's very keen; I feel he has qualities he doesn't yet know he's got. Well, I urged him to go, and now I'm afraid—"

She stopped, and with a rather dreary smile resumed: "For a modern young woman to feel she has foolishly meddled is humiliating; particularly when she is a self-confident American girl. But that's not important. The trouble is, if I have been foolish, Jack must pay."

"All that's worth getting costs something," said Welland quietly. "On the whole, I do not think you ought to be anxious. Carthew is a good leader and we are a pretty strong combine. Then we have used all the caution our knowledge of the tropics indicates; and there's another thing. As a rule, a tenderfoot's luck is extraordinary. Perhaps because he does not see the obstacles, he often gets, without much effort, where sober men hesitate to go. Youth carries one along, and Jack is a hefty fellow."

"You try to be kind," said Helen. "I think I am a little comforted. But you are perhaps not entitled to talk like an aged philosopher."

"Youth does not stand the African sun for long. Mine and all it implied melted ten years since."

"I wonder—" said Helen, and got up. "It's possible you don't yet know yourself, and if you find out you're not as sober as you think, I hope the discovery will not be embarrassing. At all events, you are kind, and I'm happier."

She went off and Welland went to sleep. When he woke, the yacht's anchor was down and she rolled awkwardly. The sea breeze was lighter, and ominous clouds floated about the coast, but the sun pierced the fluttering awnings and the heat was almost insupportable. Under the bridge was the coolest spot, and when a languid party gathered in the shade it looked as if Carthew knew how to wait. His jokes banished the tension and he told humorous tales.

About six o'clock the sun set and mist hid the land. The breeze dropped, and in the calm one smelt the sour mangrove swamps. Then a light wind began to blow from the coast, and the heat got worse. In the distance thunder rumbled, and sometimes lightning flickered across the sea.

"I guess you might chance it," said Captain Grant. "Stand by to see your stores on board and I'll swing out the boats."

The gasoline long-boat splashed in the sea, and two seamen pulled the service-gig round the yacht's stern. Welland was storekeeper, and for a time he was occupied loading his supplies. Then somebody called him to the top of the ladder and people gave him their hands. For the most part, he did not know who they were; the yacht rolled, and when the big hatch-light swung, the gloom was puzzling. All the same, he knew Adela Carthew's touch on his arm.

"You will take care of Father," she said.

Welland went down the ladder, and Carthew jumped on board.

"I suppose you have got everything?" he said. "Make the gig fast, cox'n, and shove off."

He seized the tiller and the engine throbbed. People shouted, the Shenandoah's whistle blew, and the boat plunged into the dark.