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Edward Barry: South Sea Pearler, a novel by Louis Becke |
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Chapter 13. "The Little Celebration" Comes Off |
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_ CHAPTER XIII. "THE LITTLE CELEBRATION" COMES OFF Very smart and clean did the _Mahina_ look as the dinghy ran alongside and Barry stepped on deck. Her newly-painted sides shone snow-white in the bright tropic sun, and her decks had been scrubbed and scrubbed again and again with soft pumice stone till they were as smooth to the touch as the breast of a sea-bird. Aloft, her brightly scraped spars and carefully tended running and standing gear matched her appearance below, and even the cabins had been thoroughly overhauled and repainted. The two large boats used during the pearling operations yet lay astern; for Barry, who, as Mrs. Tracey said, "thought of everything," had his own reasons for delaying to hoist them inboard. "Leave them till the last thing to-morrow morning," he suggested to Rawlings, "as the men are having liberty to-day." "You fellows must cook that pig and the turtle on shore," said Barry to some of the crew who were leaning over the rail looking into the boat; "we don't want a dirty mess made on the decks now." "Aye, aye," responded Joe, and one of the other white seamen, jumping into the dinghy, followed, at a sign from Velo, by two or three natives. She pushed off from the side, and was rowed ashore with Velo in charge. The two whaleboats were already on shore with some of the crew, and their nude, brown-skinned figures could be seen walking about on the beach, or gathering a last lot of coconuts for the voyage. At dark the dinghy returned, having left Velo on shore to superintend the feast, which the men were to eat on shore. But before then, and while it was still daylight, and Rawlings was below, and the Greek on the poop, Barry and the second mate were standing on the topgallant foc's'le, looking up and apparently scrutinising the condition of things aloft. Barry was speaking. "Watch me to-night. When you see me rise from the table after supper is over, I'll collar Rawlings, and you must tackle the Greek. The steward will be behind him to help you, but you must see that he doesn't get out his knife. He's as strong as a buffalo. Don't hurt him if you can help it. I have leg-irons and handcuffs all ready in my berth. We'll get all the help we want in a few seconds--before either of them know what has happened. Warner will be too drunk to offer any resistance, and our men and Mrs. Tracey's people will tackle his niggers if they show fight. They are coming on board to-night. Are you clear, Barradas?" The Spaniard gave an affirmative gesture. "Quite clear, Mr. Barry. Trust me to settle the Greek. But be careful of Rawlings, he always carries a derringer and might put a bullet into you before you could get your hands on him." "Don't be afraid of that, Barradas. I'll get him by the throat so suddenly that he'll have no chance to use it. The only thing I feel anxious about is that Velo and Joe and our natives will be able to dispose of Warner's niggers without much bloodshed, and----" He ceased, for he saw the boatswain coming towards them, and then he added in his natural voice, as he ran his eye up and down the fore stay-- "Well, perhaps so, Mr. Barradas, but give me wire any day for standing gear; it's better in every way to set up, and looks neater." Then he went aft again, and sat on the skylight smoking his pipe, and now and then looking shorewards through the fast-gathering darkness. He had told Velo not to light the two signal fires until it was quite dark. Presently Rawlings, dressed as usual in a natty, spotless white duck suit, and smoking a cigar, came up from below. "It's dark, isn't it?" he said genially, as he took a few brisk turns up and down the poop, and taking off his wide, soft hat of _fala_ leaf, he let the cool night breeze play upon his head. And as he walked past the light of the lantern hanging from the centre of the awning, just over the skylight, and Barry noticed his clean-cut handsome features, and calm, smiling face, he ground his teeth together, and thought of the Nemesis that in so strange a way was so soon to overtake the heartless little fiend. "Well, Barry, my dear fellow," said the captain, "I suppose you are just as glad as I am that the work is over at last. After all our troubles we have had most excellent luck, have we not?" "Yes, you have had splendid luck so far, Captain Rawlings--extraordinary good luck." "For which I am largely indebted to you, Barry. Your judgment, knowledge, and resourcefulness are, I can assure you, very fully appreciated by me. You have been the guiding spirit in the whole affair; and, to be perfectly candid with you, my dear fellow, I don't know how I should have managed without you. Our native crew are so devoted to, and have worked so splendidly under you that I intend to give every one of them a handsome present. And, although you once refused to accept anything from me, I shall indeed feel hurt if you will not now reconsider your former decision. It will add considerably to the pleasure I feel at this moment." "The native boys certainly do deserve a handsome present from the owner of the _Mahina_," replied the chief officer, emphasising the word "owner." "They have worked with an energy that I alone, perhaps, can understand. And I can assure you that, with every facility to steal, not a single pearl has been taken by them. Their honesty is above suspicion." "I am sure of it, my dear fellow," answered Rawlings effusively, "and they shall be treated properly by me, I can assure you. Twelve thousand pounds' worth of pearls----" "Say sixteen," said Barry; "my estimate of their value is based on the price they would fetch in the colonies or Singapore--not London or Amsterdam." "Just so. Well, sixteen thousand pounds' worth of pearls, and thirty thousand pounds' worth of shell is a big haul in less than six months. But you have evaded my suggestion about your own--what shall I call it--bonus, lucky-penny?" "I can only repeat to you that I cannot accept anything from you," replied Barry quietly, though his hands were twitching to catch the handsome, plausible little scoundrel by the throat and strangle him there and then. Rawlings flung out his hands with a pained expression and sighed. "You are too proud to accept a present from me, a gift to which you are well entitled and which I have sincere pleasure in offering. A thousand pounds will be nothing to me----" "For God's sake, stop!" and Barry turned away fiercely. "I tell you that I want nothing from you." Rawlings looked at him quietly with the faintest flicker of a smile. "Ah, I won't offend you again, my dear fellow. I'm afraid that I'm a bit too impulsive, and that you are too proud a man even to listen to a well-meant and kindly suggestion for your own benefit." Barry swung round and looked at him for a moment. Rawlings met his glance with a calm, unperturbed countenance, as cigar in mouth and with his hands in his pockets he leant against one of the awning stanchions. Fearful of betraying himself by an outburst of temper and perhaps ruining everything, the mate did not trust himself to speak again, and was glad when Rawlings said-- "Ha, here is Warner coming alongside with his people. You'll find that both he and his natives will cause us no trouble this time, Mr. Barry. The man himself is really not a bad-hearted fellow, but his drinking habits are very disgusting and lead him into mischief. However, he is sorry for what has occurred and has promised me not to offend again." "He certainly is brute enough when sober, but he's fifty times worse when he's drunk," said Barry. "I daresay, though, that he has some good in him, or else his niggers wouldn't let him knock them about in the manner he does." The captain laughed. "Yes, every one has some good points. Poor Warner is simply his own enemy. By the way, he now wishes me to land him at Guam, in the Ladrones, so we won't have his company all the voyage." Presently Warner came aft, nodded to Rawlings, and held out his hand to the chief officer. "Shake hands, mister. Guess I've been a bit of a hog, but I'm sorry. It's all the fault of the whiskey." Concealing his disgust, Barry took the proffered hand of the treacherous ruffian and made some commonplace reply; then the three began talking about the ship and her cargo. Suddenly a bright flame lit up the black line of palms on the island, and then another, as two fires shone brightly out upon the beach, and continued to burn steadily. "Ah," said the Greek, who just then came on deck, "the kanakas will have gooda time to-nighta--pork, turtle, biskeet, feesh, everythings. They are alla gooda comrade to-night too," and he showed his teeth in a hideous grimace which was intended for a friendly smile for the chief officer. Supper was late that night on board the _Mahina_; for Mose, the brown-skinned Manhiki steward, was, aided by the cook, preparing such a supper as had never before been seen on the brig--at least so he told Rawlings, who had cheerfully agreed that eight o'clock was not too late. And at half-past seven Rawlings himself came below to see the table and Mose's ideas of decoration. "Why, Mose, you're quite an artist," he said as he went into his state-room. "Keep the lager as cool as you can. Put half a dozen bottles and some hock on the poop with some wet towels round them. We'll be up late to-night." "Yes, sir," answered the man, and as he turned away a grim smile for a second flitted across his swarthy features. Eight bells struck, and as Rawlings, Barradas, and the Greek took their seats, Barry came out of his own cabin and sat at the for'ard end of the table. Rawlings was opposite to him, and the Greek and Barradas also faced each other, Warner being on the same side as the Greek. As the steward brought in the turtle soup there came the strains of a wheezy accordion from the main deck, and then three or four voices joined in a native chorus, broken now and then by a laugh, and the sound of naked feet stamping time to the music. "Hallo," observed the Greek with his usual grin. "Billy Onotoa and the other fella on boarda are hava a bita singa-songa and danca too." "Let them enjoy themselves to-night," said Rawlings pleasantly. "And, steward, send them up a couple of bottles of grog. When the rest of them come aboard they shall have half a dozen between them. It won't hurt them once in a while." The grog seemed to have a rapidly stimulating effect on the men on deck, for the "harmony" began with renewed vigour; and amid it all, as Billy Onotoa and four others of his shipmates thumped their feet, and slapped their bare chests and chanted their song louder than before, the two boats from the shore came silently alongside, filled with two score of naked figures and the remainder of the brig's native crew, Joe and one of his mates with them. Velo took a quick glance along the deck. None of the Solomon Islanders were visible, they all having taken up their quarters in the main-hold on top of the cases of pearl shell, where they had spread their rough mats of coconut leaf. Two of the hatches were off, and Veto looking down at the savages saw that they were sitting or lying about smoking or chewing their inevitable betel-nut. "Stand by to clap on the hatches," he said quietly to Sam Button. The white sailor obeyed him promptly, for Barry had told him to take his orders from the Samoan; so he and three native seamen took up their places, two on each side of the hatch coamings. Then Velo stepped to the port side and called to Joe in a whisper-- "It's all right, Joe. You can all come aboard in a minute, but let Mrs. Tracey and the girls come first." Mrs. Tracey and Pani and Toea clambered up over the bulwarks, and Velo noiselessly conducted them to the sail locker in the deck-house and bade them remain there for the present. Then, cutlass in hand, he crouched before the door and listened to the murmur of voices from the cabin. Rawlings was in such excellent spirits that he could not refrain from "chaffing" his chief officer upon his want of appetite, and kept pressing him to drink. "My dear Barry," he said, "you really want livening up. You have worked too hard altogether, and seem a bit run down. Come, if you won't drink lager, try a glass of hock." "Yesa," said the Greek, with the grin that was so intolerable to the man he meant to murder, "you have worka too harda, Mr. Barry. Ah! when we get to Singapore you will feela betta; there is fine prawna curry there in Singapore--make you feel stronga. Make you feela you wanta come back quick to Arrecifos, and finda more pearla." Barry looked up wearily, but for the twentieth part of a second his eye met that of Mose the steward, who slipped behind the Greek's chair and filled his glass. "No, thank you," he said to Rawlings, "I won't drink anything just now. I have a bit of a headache. I'll sit on the transoms a bit, and get a breath of fresh air from the stern port." "Guess it isn't on account of the liquor you've drunk, mister," said Warner, with a sneering laugh. He himself had been drinking freely and, despite warning glances from the captain, he had several times rudely insisted upon Barry drinking with him, and the officer's refusals had evidently aroused his brutal temper. "I tell you that I don't want to drink anything," he said quietly. He rose from his seat and walked toward the stern, but as he was passing Rawlings his left arm shot out like lightning and seized the captain by the throat; and at the same instant Barradas, rising to his feet, leant across the table and struck the Greek a fearful blow between the eyes. There was no need for the steward's help--the man went down like a stone dropped into a well. And then came a rush of naked feet and wild cries, and an English cheer from Joe and the white seamen as the cabin was filled with the excited crew and their island allies. Warner made a desperate dash towards the companion, and by sheer strength fought his way out through the white and native seamen with his fists, striking out right and left, and felling a man at each blow. Calling loudly upon his Solomon Islanders, he gained the deck, where he was met by Billy Onotoa, who presented a Snider carbine to his breast. Dashing the weapon aside the American struck the Gilbert Islander a blow on the chest which sent him reeling across the deck, and still shouting for Togaro and the rest of his followers to come to the rescue, he reached the main-hatch, which he found covered, and in the possession of a dozen of the Tebuan people. There was nothing of the coward about him. Unarmed as he was he leaped into the midst of them and wresting a hatchet from one of their number he set to work, dealing out death at every blow, while from beneath came the cries of his imprisoned followers. But great as was his strength he had but little chance amongst so many, and presently a boy of fifteen dealt him a blow with his tomahawk across the small of the back which severed his spine. He fell with a groan on the blood-stained hatch. In the cabin Rawlings lay gasping upon the cushioned transoms with Barry standing over him; the Greek had been dragged up into a sitting posture, and placed with his back against a cabin door, whilst Barradas proceeded to handcuff and leg-iron him. Then, together with Velo, who was carrying another set of irons, the second mate came towards Barry and Rawlings. "This fellow's pretty little hands and feet are too small for them," said Barry; "carry him up on deck, you Velo, and Joe, and wait till he comes to. Then lash his hands athwartships behind his back, and take him and the Greek ashore. Keep a good look-out over them, and see that they have water to drink when they ask for it. They will swing at the gallows for their crimes. Let us be as merciful to them as we can; but for God's sake take them away from here quickly; their very presence poisons me. Barradas, come here . . . give me your hand. You have stood to me manfully. Now I must go on deck and see to Warner." "He is dying, sir," said one of the white seamen who just then entered the cabin; "some of the Tebuan natives cut him down, but not until he had killed three of them. His niggers are safe under the main-hatch." Followed by Mose the steward and big Joe, Barry ran on deck. On the hatch were three dead or dying natives, and Warner lay upon the deck with his head against the coamings. "Bring some lights," cried Barry to the steward, as he knelt beside the wounded man. "I guess that lights are just what I want, young feller," said Warner faintly, with a grim smile. "That darned kanaka boy just drove his hatchet inter my back, and I reckon I haven't much lights or liver left." Barry tried to examine the man's wound, but the American stayed him. "Let me be, mister. I meant to do for you, and would have done it later on. But I'm wiped out and don't want to make a song. Is Jim dead?" "No," replied Barry, "he is not dead." "Mister, you are a darned good sort. Me and Jim meant to do for you." "Don't talk about that, Warner. I have no enmity against you. And I don't think you have long to live." "That is so, mister. I guess I'm about done. I'd like to see Togaro and the rest of my niggers before I slip, if you have no objections." Barry motioned to the crew to take off the hatches and let the Solomon Islanders come on deck to see their dying master. Then with a few kindly words he left him to return to the cabin, and watched Rawlings and the Greek being carried on deck in irons. Mrs. Tracey, who had followed, overtook him at the companion way and touched his arm. "Thank God, it is all over, Mr. Barry." Then her tears began to fall. Barry raised her hand and touched it with his lips. "All over, thank God. Now will you come and speak to Barradas?" She followed him below. Barradas was sitting at the table with his hands over his eyes. Mrs. Tracey placed her hand upon his shoulder, and said softly-- "As Christ forgives us all, so may He forgive you, Manuel Barradas; and so may He forgive those who . . ." Barry stole swiftly up on deck and left them praying together. _ |
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