THE TREMBLING OF A LEAF
By Somerset Maugham
VI
Honolulu
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THE
wise traveller travels only in imagination. An old Frenchman (he was
really a Savoyard) once wrote a book called Voyage autour de ma
Chambre. I have not read it and do not even know what it is about, but
the title stimulates my fancy. In such a journey I could circumnavigate
the globe. An eikon by the chimneypiece can take me to Russia with its
great forests of birch and its white, domed churches. The Volga is wide,
and at the end of a straggling village, in the wine-shop, bearded men in
rough sheepskin coats sit drinking. I stand on the little hill from
which Napoleon first saw Moscow and I look upon the vastness of the
city. I will go down and see the people whom I know more intimately than
so many of my friends, Alyosha, and Vronsky, and a dozen more. But my
eyes fall on a piece of porcelain and I smell the acrid odours of China.
I am borne in a chair along a narrow causeway between the padi fields,
or else I skirt a tree-clad mountain. My bearers chat gaily as they
trudge along in the bright morning and every now and then, distant and
mysterious, I hear the deep sound of a monastery bell. In the streets of
Peking there is a motley crowd and it scatters to allow passage to a
string of camels, stepping delicately, that bring skins and strange
drugs from the stony deserts of Mongolia. In England, in London, there
are certain afternoons in winter when the clouds hang heavy and low and
the light is so bleak that your heart sinks, but then you can look out
of your window, and you see the coconut trees crowded upon the beach of
a coral island. The sand is silvery and when you walk along in the
sunshine it is so dazzling that you can hardly bear to look at it.
Overhead the mynah birds are making a great to-do, and the surf beats
ceaselessly against the reef. Those are the best journeys, the journeys
that you take at your own fireside, for then you lose none of your
illusions.
But there are people who take salt in their coffee. They say it gives it
a tang, a savour, which is peculiar and fascinating. In the same way
there are certain places, surrounded by a halo of romance, to which the
inevitable disillusionment which you must experience on seeing them
gives a singular spice. You had expected something wholly beautiful and
you get an impression which is infinitely more complicated than any that
beauty can give you. It is like the weakness in the character of a great
man which may make him less admirable but certainly makes him more
interesting.
Nothing had prepared me for Honolulu. It is so far away from Europe, it
is reached after so long a journey from San Francisco, so strange and so
charming associations are attached to the name, that at first I could
hardly believe my eyes. I do not know that I had formed in my mind any
very exact picture of what I expected, but what I found caused me a
great surprise. It is a typical western city. Shacks are cheek by jowl
with stone mansions; dilapidated frame houses stand next door to smart
stores with plate glass windows; electric cars rumble noisily along the
streets; and motors, Fords, Buicks, Packards, line the pavement. The
shops are filled with all the necessities of American civilisation.
Every third house is a bank and every fifth the agency of a steamship
company.
Along the streets crowd an unimaginable assortment of people. The
Americans, ignoring the climate, wear black coats and high, starched
collars, straw hats, soft hats, and bowlers. The Kanakas, pale brown,
with crisp hair, have nothing on but a shirt and a pair of trousers; but
the half-breeds are very smart with flaring ties and patent-leather
boots. The Japanese, with their obsequious smile, are neat and trim in
white duck, while their women walk a step or two behind them, in native
dress, with a baby on their backs. The Japanese children, in bright
coloured frocks, their little heads shaven, look like quaint dolls. Then
there are the Chinese. The men, fat and prosperous, wear their American
clothes oddly, but the women are enchanting with their tightly-dressed
black hair, so neat that you feel it can never be disarranged, and they
are very clean in their tunics and trousers, white, or powder blue, or
black. Lastly there are the Filipinos, the men in huge straw hats, the
women in bright yellow muslin with great puffed sleeves.
It is the meeting-place of East and West. The very new rubs shoulders
with the immeasurably old. And if you have not found the romance you
expected you have come upon something singularly intriguing. All these
strange people live close to each other, with different languages and
different thoughts; they believe in different gods and they have
different values; two passions alone they share, love and hunger. And
somehow as you watch them you have an impression of extraordinary
vitality. Though the air is so soft and the sky so blue, you have, I
know not why, a feeling of something hotly passionate that beats like a
throbbing pulse through the crowd. Though the native policeman at the
corner, standing on a platform, with a white club to direct the traffic,
gives the scene an air of respectability, you cannot but feel that it is
a respectability only of the surface; a little below there is darkness
and mystery. It gives you just that thrill, with a little catch at the
heart, that you have when at night in the forest the silence trembles on
a sudden with the low, insistent beating of a drum. You are all
expectant of I know not what.
If I have dwelt on the incongruity of Honolulu, it is because just this,
to my mind, gives its point to the story I want to tell. It is a story
of primitive superstition, and it startles me that anything of the sort
should survive in a civilisation which, if not very distinguished, is
certainly very elaborate. I cannot get over the fact that such
incredible things should happen, or at least be thought to happen, right
in the middle, so to speak, of telephones, tram-cars, and daily papers.
And the friend who showed me Honolulu had the same incongruity which I
felt from the beginning was its most striking characteristic.
He was an American named Winter and I had brought a letter of
introduction to him from an acquaintance in New York. He was a man
between forty and fifty, with scanty black hair, grey at the temples,
and a sharp-featured, thin face. His eyes had a twinkle in them and his
large horn spectacles gave him a demureness which was not a little
diverting. He was tall rather than otherwise and very spare. He was born
in Honolulu and his father had a large store which sold hosiery and all
such goods, from tennis racquets to tarpaulins, as a man of fashion
could require. It was a prosperous business and I could well understand
the indignation of Winter phre when his son, refusing to go into it,
had announced his determination to be an actor. My friend spent twenty
years on the stage, sometimes in New York, but more often on the road,
for his gifts were small; but at last, being no fool, he came to the
conclusion that it was better to sell sock-suspenders in Honolulu than
to play small parts in Cleveland, Ohio. He left the stage and went into
the business. I think after the hazardous existence he had lived so
long, he thoroughly enjoyed the luxury of driving a large car and living
in a beautiful house near the golf-course, and I am quite sure, since he
was a man of parts, he managed the business competently. But he could
not bring himself entirely to break his connection with the arts and
since he might no longer act he began to paint. He took me to his studio
and showed me his work. It was not at all bad, but not what I should
have expected from him. He painted nothing but still life, very small
pictures, perhaps eight by ten; and he painted very delicately, with the
utmost finish. He had evidently a passion for detail. His fruit pieces
reminded you of the fruit in a picture by Ghirlandajo. While you
marvelled a little at his patience, you could not help being impressed
by his dexterity. I imagine that he failed as an actor because his
effects, carefully studied, were neither bold nor broad enough to get
across the footlights.
I was entertained by the proprietary, yet ironical air with which he
showed me the city. He thought in his heart that there was none in the
United States to equal it, but he saw quite clearly that his attitude
was comic. He drove me round to the various buildings and swelled with
satisfaction when I expressed a proper admiration for their
architecture. He showed me the houses of rich men.
Thats the Stubbs house, he said. It cost a hundred thousand dollars
to build. The Stubbs are one of our best families. Old man Stubbs came
here as a missionary more than seventy years ago. He hesitated a little and looked at me with twinkling eyes through his
big round spectacles.
All our best families are missionary families, he said. Youre not
very much in Honolulu unless your father or your grandfather converted
the heathen. Is that so? Do you know your Bible? Fairly, I answered.
There is a text which says: The fathers have eaten sour grapes and the
childrens teeth are set on edge. I guess it runs differently in
Honolulu. The fathers brought Christianity to the Kanaka and the
children jumped his land. Heaven helps those who help themselves, I murmured.
It surely does. By the time the natives of this island had embraced
Christianity they had nothing else they could afford to embrace. The
kings gave the missionaries land as a mark of esteem, and the
missionaries bought land by way of laying up treasure in heaven. It
surely was a good investment. One missionary left the business—I think
one may call it a business without offence—and became a land agent, but
that is an exception. Mostly it was their sons who looked after the
commercial side of the concern. Oh, its a fine thing to have a father
who came here fifty years ago to spread the faith. But he looked at his watch.
Gee, its stopped. That means its time to have a cocktail. We sped along an excellent road, bordered with red hibiscus, and came
back into the town.
Have you been to the Union Saloon? Not yet. Well go there. I knew it was the most famous spot in Honolulu and I entered it with a
lively curiosity. You get to it by a narrow passage from King Street,
and in the passage are offices, so that thirsty souls may be supposed
bound for one of these just as well as for the saloon. It is a large
square room, with three entrances, and opposite the bar, which runs the
length of it, two corners have been partitioned off into little
cubicles. Legend states that they were built so that King Kalakaua might
drink there without being seen by his subjects, and it is pleasant to
think that in one or other of these he may have sat over his bottle, a
coal-black potentate, with Robert Louis Stevenson. There is a portrait
of him, in oils, in a rich gold frame; but there are also two prints of
Queen Victoria. On the walls, besides, are old line engravings of the
eighteenth century, one of which, and heaven knows how it got there, is
after a theatrical picture by De Wilde; and there are oleographs from
the Christmas supplements of the Graphic and the Illustrated London
News of twenty years ago. Then there are advertisements of whisky, gin,
champagne, and beer; and photographs of baseball teams and of native
orchestras.
The place seemed to belong not to the modern, hustling world that I had
left in the bright street outside, but to one that was dying. It had the
savour of the day before yesterday. Dingy and dimly lit, it had a
vaguely mysterious air and you could imagine that it would be a fit
scene for shady transactions. It suggested a more lurid time, when
ruthless men carried their lives in their hands, and violent deeds
diapered the monotony of life.
When I went in the saloon was fairly full. A group of business men stood
together at the bar, discussing affairs, and in a corner two Kanakas
were drinking. Two or three men who might have been store-keepers were
shaking dice. The rest of the company plainly followed the sea; they
were captains of tramps, first mates, and engineers. Behind the bar,
busily making the Honolulu cocktail for which the place was famous,
served two large half-castes, in white, fat, clean-shaven and dark
skinned, with thick, curly hair and large bright eyes.
Winter seemed to know more than half the company, and when we made our
way to the bar a little fat man in spectacles, who was standing by
himself, offered him a drink.
No, you have one with me, Captain, said Winter.
He turned to me.
I want you to know Captain Butler. The little man shook hands with me. We began to talk, but, my attention
distracted by my surroundings, I took small notice of him, and after we
had each ordered a cocktail we separated. When we had got into the motor
again and were driving away, Winter said to me:
Im glad we ran up against Butler. I wanted you to meet him. What did
you think of him? I dont know that I thought very much of him at all, I answered.
Do you believe in the supernatural? I dont exactly know that I do, I smiled.
A very queer thing happened to him a year or two ago. You ought to have
him tell you about it. What sort of thing? Winter did not answer my question.
I have no explanation of it myself, he said. But theres no doubt
about the facts. Are you interested in things like that? Things like what? Spells and magic and all that. Ive never met anyone who wasnt . Winter paused for a moment.
I guess I wont tell you myself. You ought to hear it from his own lips
so that you can judge. How are you fixed up for to-night? Ive got nothing on at all. Well, Ill get hold of him between now and then and see if we cant go
down to his ship. Winter told me something about him. Captain Butler had spent all his
life on the Pacific. He had been in much better circumstances than he
was now, for he had been first officer and then captain of a
passenger-boat plying along the coast of California, but he had lost his
ship and a number of passengers had been drowned.
Drink, I guess, said Winter.
Of course there had been an enquiry, which had cost him his certificate,
and then he drifted further afield. For some years he had knocked about
the South Seas, but he was now in command of a small schooner which
sailed between Honolulu and the various islands of the group. It
belonged to a Chinese to whom the fact that his skipper had no
certificate meant only that he could be had for lower wages, and to have
a white man in charge was always an advantage.
And now that I had heard this about him I took the trouble to remember
more exactly what he was like. I recalled his round spectacles and the
round blue eyes behind them, and so gradually reconstructed him before
my mind. He was a little man, without angles, plump, with a round face
like the full moon and a little fat round nose. He had fair short hair,
and he was red-faced and clean shaven. He had plump hands, dimpled on
the knuckles, and short fat legs. He was a jolly soul, and the tragic
experience he had gone through seemed to have left him unscarred. Though
he must have been thirty-four or thirty-five he looked much younger. But
after all I had given him but a superficial attention, and now that I
knew of this catastrophe, which had obviously ruined his life, I
promised myself that when I saw him again I would take more careful note
of him. It is very curious to observe the differences of emotional
response that you find in different people. Some can go through terrific
battles, the fear of imminent death and unimaginable horrors, and
preserve their soul unscathed, while with others the trembling of the
moon on a solitary sea or the song of a bird in a thicket will cause a
convulsion great enough to transform their entire being. Is it due to
strength or weakness, want of imagination or instability of character? I
do not know. When I called up in my fancy that scene of shipwreck, with
the shrieks of the drowning and the terror, and then later, the ordeal
of the enquiry, the bitter grief of those who sorrowed for the lost, and
the harsh things he must have read of himself in the papers, the shame
and the disgrace, it came to me with a shock to remember that Captain
Butler had talked with the frank obscenity of a schoolboy of the
Hawaiian girls and of Ewelei, the Red Light district, and of his
successful adventures. He laughed readily, and one would have thought he
could never laugh again. I remembered his shining, white teeth; they
were his best feature. He began to interest me, and thinking of him and
of his gay insouciance I forgot the particular story, to hear which I
was to see him again. I wanted to see him rather to find out if I could
a little more what sort of man he was.
Winter made the necessary arrangements and after dinner we went down to
the water front. The ships boat was waiting for us and we rowed out.
The schooner was anchored some way across the harbour, not far from the
breakwater. We came alongside, and I heard the sound of a ukalele. We
clambered up the ladder.
I guess hes in the cabin, said Winter, leading the way.
It was a small cabin, bedraggled and dirty, with a table against one
side and a broad bench all round upon which slept, I supposed, such
passengers as were ill-advised enough to travel in such a ship. A
petroleum lamp gave a dim light. The ukalele was being played by a
native girl and Butler was lolling on the seat, half lying, with his
head on her shoulder and an arm round her waist.
Dont let us disturb you, Captain, said Winter, facetiously.
Come right in, said Butler, getting up and shaking hands with us. Whatll you have? It was a warm night, and through the open door you saw countless stars
in a heaven that was still almost blue. Captain Butler wore a sleeveless
under-shirt, showing his fat white arms, and a pair of incredibly dirty
trousers. His feet were bare, but on his curly head he wore a very old,
a very shapeless felt hat.
Let me introduce you to my girl. Aint she a peach? We shook hands with a very pretty person. She was a good deal taller
than the captain, and even the Mother Hubbard, which the missionaries of
a past generation had, in the interests of decency, forced on the
unwilling natives, could not conceal the beauty of her form. One could
not but suspect that age would burden her with a certain corpulence, but
now she was graceful and alert. Her brown skin had an exquisite
translucency and her eyes were magnificent. Her black hair, very thick
and rich, was coiled round her head in a massive plait. When she smiled
in a greeting that was charmingly natural, she showed teeth that were
small, even, and white. She was certainly a most attractive creature. It
was easy to see that the captain was madly in love with her. He could
not take his eyes off her; he wanted to touch her all the time. That was
very easy to understand; but what seemed to me stranger was that the
girl was apparently in love with him. There was a light in her eyes that
was unmistakable, and her lips were slightly parted as though in a sigh
of desire. It was thrilling. It was even a little moving, and I could
not help feeling somewhat in the way. What had a stranger to do with
this love-sick pair? I wished that Winter had not brought me. And it
seemed to me that the dingy cabin was transfigured and now it seemed a
fit and proper scene for such an extremity of passion. I thought I
should never forget that schooner in the harbour of Honolulu, crowded
with shipping, and yet, under the immensity of the starry sky, remote
from all the world. I liked to think of those lovers sailing off
together in the night over the empty spaces of the Pacific from one
green, hilly island to another. A faint breeze of romance softly fanned
my cheek.
And yet Butler was the last man in the world with whom you would have
associated romance, and it was hard to see what there was in him to
arouse love. In the clothes he wore now he looked podgier than ever, and
his round spectacles gave his round face the look of a prim cherub. He
suggested rather a curate who had gone to the dogs. His conversation was
peppered with the quaintest Americanisms, and it is because I despair of
reproducing these that, at whatever loss of vividness, I mean to narrate
the story he told me a little later in my own words. Moreover he was
unable to frame a sentence without an oath, though a good-natured one,
and his speech, albeit offensive only to prudish ears, in print would
seem coarse. He was a mirth-loving man, and perhaps that accounted not a
little for his successful amours; since women, for the most part
frivolous creatures, are excessively bored by the seriousness with
which men treat them, and they can seldom resist the buffoon who makes
them laugh. Their sense of humour is crude. Diana of Ephesus is always
prepared to fling prudence to the winds for the red-nosed comedian who
sits on his hat. I realised that Captain Butler had charm. If I had not
known the tragic story of the shipwreck I should have thought he had
never had a care in his life.
Our host had rung the bell on our entrance and now a Chinese cook came
in with more glasses and several bottles of soda. The whisky and the
captains empty glass stood already on the table. But when I saw the
Chinese I positively started, for he was certainly the ugliest man I had
ever seen. He was very short, but thick-set, and he had a bad limp. He
wore a singlet and a pair of trousers that had been white, but were now
filthy, and, perched on a shock of bristly, grey hair, an old tweed
deer-stalker. It would have been grotesque on any Chinese, but on him it
was outrageous. His broad, square face was very flat as though it had
been bashed in by a mighty fist, and it was deeply pitted with smallpox;
but the most revolting thing in him was a very pronounced harelip which
had never been operated on, so that his upper lip, cleft, went up in an
angle to his nose, and in the opening was a huge yellow fang. It was
horrible. He came in with the end of a cigarette at the corner of his
mouth, and this, I do not know why, gave him a devilish expression.
He poured out the whisky and opened a bottle of soda.
Dont drown it, John, said the captain.
He said nothing, but handed a glass to each of us. Then he went out.
I saw you lookin at my Chink, said Butler, with a grin on his fat,
shining face.
I should hate to meet him on a dark night, I said.
He sure is homely, said the captain, and for some reason he seemed to
say it with a peculiar satisfaction. But hes fine for one thing, Ill tell the world; you just have to have a drink every time you look at
him. But my eyes fell on a calabash that hung against the wall over the
table, and I got up to look at it. I had been hunting for an old one and
this was better than any I had seen outside the museum.
It was given me by a chief over on one of the islands, said the
captain, watching me. I done him a good turn and he wanted to give me
something good. He certainly did, I answered.
I was wondering whether I could discreetly make Captain Butler an offer
for it, I could not imagine that he set any store on such an article,
when, as though he read my thoughts, he said:
I wouldnt sell that for ten thousand dollars. I guess not, said Winter. It would be a crime to sell it. Why? I asked.
That comes into the story, returned Winter. Doesnt it, Captain? It surely does. Lets hear it then. The nights young yet, he answered.
The night distinctly lost its youth before he satisfied my curiosity,
and meanwhile we drank a great deal too much whisky while Captain Butler
narrated his experiences of San Francisco in the old days and of the
South Seas. At last the girl fell asleep. She lay curled up on the seat,
with her face on her brown arm, and her bosom rose and fell gently with
her breathing. In sleep she looked sullen, but darkly beautiful.
He had found her on one of the islands in the group among which,
whenever there was cargo to be got, he wandered with his crazy old
schooner. The Kanakas have little love for work, and the laborious
Chinese, the cunning Japs, have taken the trade out of their hands. Her
father had a strip of land on which he grew taro and bananas and he had
a boat in which he went fishing. He was vaguely related to the mate of
the schooner, and it was he who took Captain Butler up to the shabby
little frame house to spend an idle evening. They took a bottle of
whisky with them and the ukalele. The captain was not a shy man and when
he saw a pretty girl he made love to her. He could speak the native
language fluently and it was not long before he had overcome the girls timidity. They spent the evening singing and dancing, and by the end of
it she was sitting by his side and he had his arm round her waist. It
happened that they were delayed on the island for several days and the
captain, at no time a man to hurry, made no effort to shorten his stay.
He was very comfortable in the snug little harbour and life was long. He
had a swim round his ship in the morning and another in the evening.
There was a chandlers shop on the water front where sailormen could get
a drink of whisky, and he spent the best part of the day there, playing
cribbage with the half-caste who owned it. At night the mate and he went
up to the house where the pretty girl lived and they sang a song or two
and told stories. It was the girls father who suggested that he should
take her away with him. They discussed the matter in a friendly fashion,
while the girl, nestling against the captain, urged him by the pressure
of her hands and her soft, smiling glances. He had taken a fancy to her
and he was a domestic man. He was a little dull sometimes at sea and it
would be very pleasant to have a pretty little creature like that about
the old ship. He was of a practical turn too, and he recognised that it
would be useful to have someone around to darn his socks and look after
his linen. He was tired of having his things washed by a Chink who tore
everything to pieces; the natives washed much better, and now and then
when the captain went ashore at Honolulu he liked to cut a dash in a
smart duck suit. It was only a matter of arranging a price. The father
wanted two hundred and fifty dollars, and the captain, never a thrifty
man, could not put his hand on such a sum. But he was a generous one,
and with the girls soft face against his, he was not inclined to
haggle. He offered to give a hundred and fifty dollars there and then
and another hundred in three months. There was a good deal of argument
and the parties could not come to any agreement that night, but the idea
had fired the captain, and he could not sleep as well as usual. He kept
dreaming of the lovely girl and each time he awoke it was with the
pressure of her soft, sensual lips on his. He cursed himself in the
morning because a bad night at poker the last time he was at Honolulu
had left him so short of ready money. And if the night before he had
been in love with the girl, this morning he was crazy about her.
See here, Bananas, he said to the mate, Ive got to have that girl.
You go and tell the old man Ill bring the dough up to-night and she can
get fixed up. I figure well be ready to sail at dawn. I have no idea why the mate was known by that eccentric name. He was
called Wheeler, but though he had that English surname there was not a
drop of white blood in him. He was a tall man, and well-made though
inclined to stoutness, but much darker than is usual in Hawaii. He was
no longer young, and his crisply curling, thick hair was grey. His upper
front teeth were cased in gold. He was very proud of them. He had a
marked squint and this gave him a saturnine expression. The captain, who
was fond of a joke, found in it a constant source of humour and
hesitated the less to rally him on the defect because he realised that
the mate was sensitive about it. Bananas, unlike most of the natives,
was a taciturn fellow and Captain Butler would have disliked him if it
had been possible for a man of his good nature to dislike anyone. He
liked to be at sea with someone he could talk to, he was a chatty,
sociable creature, and it was enough to drive a missionary to drink to
live there day after day with a chap who never opened his mouth. He did
his best to wake the mate up, that is to say, he chaffed him without
mercy, but it was poor fun to laugh by oneself, and he came to the
conclusion that, drunk or sober, Bananas was no fit companion for a
white man. But he was a good seaman and the captain was shrewd enough to
know the value of a mate he could trust. It was not rare for him to come
aboard, when they were sailing, fit for nothing but to fall into his
bunk, and it was worth something to know that he could stay there till
he had slept his liquor off, since Bananas could be relied on. But he
was an unsociable devil, and it would be a treat to have someone he
could talk to. That girl would be fine. Besides, he wouldnt be so
likely to get drunk when he went ashore if he knew there was a little
girl waiting for him when he came on board again.
He went to his friend the chandler and over a peg of gin asked him for a
loan. There were one or two useful things a ships captain could do for
a ships chandler, and after a quarter of an hours conversation in low
tones (there is no object in letting all and sundry know your business),
the captain crammed a wad of notes in his hip-pocket, and that night,
when he went back to his ship, the girl went with him.
What Captain Butler, seeking for reasons to do what he had already made
up his mind to, had anticipated, actually came to pass. He did not give
up drinking, but he ceased to drink to excess. An evening with the
boys, when he had been away from town two or three weeks, was pleasant
enough, but it was pleasant too to get back to his little girl; he
thought of her, sleeping so softly, and how, when he got into his cabin
and leaned over her, she would open her eyes lazily and stretch out her
arms for him: it was as good as a full hand. He found he was saving
money, and since he was a generous man he did the right thing by the
little girl: he gave her some silver-backed brushes for her long hair,
and a gold chain, and a reconstructed ruby for her finger. Gee, but it
was good to be alive.
A year went by, a whole year, and he was not tired of her yet. He was
not a man who analysed his feelings, but this was so surprising that it
forced itself upon his attention. There must be something very wonderful
about that girl. He couldnt help seeing that he was more wrapped up in
her than ever, and sometimes the thought entered his mind that it might
not be a bad thing if he married her.
Then, one day the mate did not come in to dinner or to tea. Butler did
not bother himself about his absence at the first meal, but at the
second he asked the Chinese cook:
Wheres the mate? He no come tea? No wantchee, said the Chink.
He aint sick? No savvy. Next day Bananas turned up again, but he was more sullen than ever, and
after dinner the captain asked the girl what was the matter with him.
She smiled and shrugged her pretty shoulders. She told the captain that
Bananas had taken a fancy to her and he was sore because she had told
him off. The captain was a good-humoured man and he was not of a jealous
nature; it struck him as exceeding funny that Bananas should be in love.
A man who had a squint like that had a precious poor chance. When tea
came round he chaffed him gaily. He pretended to speak in the air, so
that the mate should not be certain that he knew anything, but he dealt
him some pretty shrewd blows. The girl did not think him as funny as he
thought himself, and afterwards she begged him to say nothing more. He
was surprised at her seriousness. She told him he did not know her
people. When their passion was aroused they were capable of anything.
She was a little frightened. This was so absurd to him that he laughed
heartily.
If he comes bothering round you, you just threaten to tell me. Thatll fix him. Better fire him, I think. Not on your sweet life. I know a good sailor when I see one. But if he
dont leave you alone Ill give him the worst licking hes ever had. Perhaps the girl had a wisdom unusual in her sex. She knew that it was
useless to argue with a man when his mind was made up, for it only
increased his stubbornness, and she held her peace. And now on the
shabby schooner, threading her way across the silent sea, among those
lovely islands, was enacted a dark, tense drama of which the fat little
captain remained entirely ignorant. The girls resistance fired Bananas
so that he ceased to be a man, but was simply blind desire. He did not
make love to her gently or gaily, but with a black and savage ferocity.
Her contempt now was changed to hatred and when he besought her she
answered him with bitter, angry taunts. But the struggle went on
silently, and when the captain asked her after a little while whether
Bananas was bothering her, she lied.
But one night, when they were in Honolulu, he came on board only just in
time. They were sailing at dawn. Bananas had been ashore, drinking some
native spirit, and he was drunk. The captain, rowing up, heard sounds
that surprised him. He scrambled up the ladder. He saw Bananas, beside
himself, trying to wrench open the cabin door. He was shouting at the
girl. He swore he would kill her if she did not let him in.
What in hell are you up to? cried Butler.
The mate let go the handle, gave the captain a look of savage hate, and
without a word turned away.
Stop here. What are you doing with that door? The mate still did not answer. He looked at him with sullen, bootless
rage.
Ill teach you not to pull any of your queer stuff with me, you dirty,
cross-eyed nigger, said the captain.
He was a good foot shorter than the mate and no match for him, but he
was used to dealing with native crews, and he had his knuckle-duster
handy. Perhaps it was not an instrument that a gentleman would use, but
then Captain Butler was not a gentleman. Nor was he in the habit of
dealing with gentlemen. Before Bananas knew what the captain was at, his
right arm had shot out and his fist, with its ring of steel, caught him
fair and square on the jaw. He fell like a bull under the pole-axe.
Thatll learn him, said the captain.
Bananas did not stir. The girl unlocked the cabin door and came out.
Is he dead? He aint . He called a couple of men and told them to carry the mate to his bunk.
He rubbed his hands with satisfaction and his round blue eyes gleamed
behind his spectacles. But the girl was strangely silent. She put her
arms round him as though to protect him from invisible harm.
It was two or three days before Bananas was on his feet again, and when
he came out of his cabin his face was torn and swollen. Through the
darkness of his skin you saw the livid bruise. Butler saw him slinking
along the deck and called him. The mate went to him without a word.
See here, Bananas, he said to him, fixing his spectacles on his
slippery nose, for it was very hot. I aint going to fire you for this,
but you know now that when I hit, I hit hard. Dont forget it and dont let me have any more funny business. Then he held out his hand and gave the mate that good-humoured, flashing
smile of his which was his greatest charm. The mate took the
outstretched hand and twitched his swollen lips into a devilish grin.
The incident in the captains mind was so completely finished that when
the three of them sat at dinner he chaffed Bananas on his appearance. He
was eating with difficulty and, his swollen face still more distorted by
pain, he looked truly a repulsive object.
That evening, when he was sitting on the upper deck, smoking his pipe, a
shiver passed through the captain.
I dont know what I should be shiverin for on a night like this, he
grumbled. Maybe Ive gotten a dose of fever. Ive been feelin a bit
queer all day. When he went to bed he took some quinine, and next morning he felt
better, but a little washed out, as though he were recovering from a
debauch.
I guess my livers out of order, he said, and he took a pill.
He had not much appetite that day and towards evening he began to feel
very unwell. He tried the next remedy he knew, which was to drink two or
three hot whiskies, but that did not seem to help him much, and when in
the morning he surveyed himself in the glass he thought he was not
looking quite the thing.
If I aint right by the time we get back to Honolulu Ill just give Dr
Denby a call. Hell sure fix me up. He could not eat. He felt a great lassitude in all his limbs. He slept
soundly enough, but he awoke with no sense of refreshment; on the
contrary he felt a peculiar exhaustion. And the energetic little man,
who could not bear the thought of lying in bed, had to make an effort to
force himself out of his bunk. After a few days he found it impossible
to resist the languor that oppressed him, and he made up his mind not to
get up.
Bananas can look after the ship, he said. He has before now. He laughed a little to himself as he thought how often he had lain
speechless in his bunk after a night with the boys. That was before he
had his girl. He smiled at her and pressed her hand. She was puzzled and
anxious. He saw that she was concerned about him and tried to reassure
her. He had never had a days illness in his life and in a week at the
outside he would be as right as rain.
I wish youd fired Bananas, she said. Ive got a feeling that hes at
the bottom of this. Damned good thing I didnt , or thered be no one to sail the ship. I
know a good sailor when I see one. His blue eyes, rather pale now, with
the whites all yellow, twinkled. You dont think hes trying to poison
me, little girl? She did not answer, but she had one or two talks with the Chinese cook,
and she took great care with the captains food. But he ate little
enough now, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that she
persuaded him to drink a cup of soup two or three times a day. It was
clear that he was very ill, he was losing weight quickly, and his chubby
face was pale and drawn. He suffered no pain, but merely grew every day
weaker and more languid. He was wasting away. The round trip on this
occasion lasted about four weeks and by the time they came to Honolulu
the captain was a little anxious about himself. He had not been out of
his bed for more than a fortnight and really he felt too weak to get up
and go to the doctor. He sent a message asking him to come on board. The
doctor examined him, but could find nothing to account for his
condition. His temperature was normal.
See here, Captain, he said, Ill be perfectly frank with you. I dont know whats the matter with you, and just seeing you like this dont give me a chance. You come into the hospital so that we can keep you
under observation. Theres nothing organically wrong with you, I know
that, and my impression is that a few weeks in hospital ought to put you
to rights. I aint going to leave my ship. Chinese owners were queer customers, he said; if he left his ship
because he was sick, his owner might fire him, and he couldnt afford to
lose his job. So long as he stayed where he was his contract
safe-guarded him, and he had a first-rate mate. Besides, he couldnt leave his girl. No man could want a better nurse; if anyone could pull
him through she would. Every man had to die once and he only wished to
be left in peace. He would not listen to the doctors expostulations,
and finally the doctor gave in.
Ill write you a prescription, he said doubtfully, and see if it does
you any good. Youd better stay in bed for a while. There aint much fear of my getting up, doc, answered the captain. I
feel as weak as a cat. But he believed in the doctors prescription as little as did the doctor
himself, and when he was alone amused himself by lighting his cigar with
it. He had to get amusement out of something, for his cigar tasted like
nothing on earth, and he smoked only to persuade himself that he was not
too ill to. That evening a couple of friends of his, masters of tramp
steamers, hearing he was sick came to see him. They discussed his case
over a bottle of whisky and a box of Philippine cigars. One of them
remembered how a mate of his had been taken queer just like that and not
a doctor in the United States had been able to cure him. He had seen in
the paper an advertisement of a patent medicine, and thought thered be
no harm in trying it. That man was as strong as ever hed been in his
life after two bottles. But his illness had given Captain Butler a
lucidity which was new and strange, and while they talked he seemed to
read their minds. They thought he was dying. And when they left him he
was afraid.
The girl saw his weakness. This was her opportunity. She had been urging
him to let a native doctor see him, and he had stoutly refused; but now
she entreated him. He listened with harassed eyes. He wavered. It was
very funny that the American doctor could not tell what was the matter
with him. But he did not want her to think that he was scared. If he let
a damned nigger come along and look at him, it was to comfort her. He
told her to do what she liked.
The native doctor came the next night. The captain was lying alone,
half awake, and the cabin was dimly lit by an oil lamp. The door was
softly opened and the girl came in on tip-toe. She held the door open
and some one slipped in silently behind her. The captain smiled at this
mystery, but he was so weak now, the smile was no more than a glimmer in
his eyes. The doctor was a little, old man, very thin and very wrinkled,
with a completely bald head, and the face of a monkey. He was bowed and
gnarled like an old tree. He looked hardly human, but his eyes were very
bright, and in the half darkness, they seemed to glow with a reddish
light. He was dressed filthily in a pair of ragged dungarees, and the
upper part of his body was naked. He sat down on his haunches and for
ten minutes looked at the captain. Then he felt the palms of his hands
and the soles of his feet. The girl watched him with frightened eyes. No
word was spoken. Then he asked for something that the captain had worn.
The girl gave him the old felt hat which the captain used constantly and
taking it he sat down again on the floor, clasping it firmly with both
hands; and rocking backwards and forwards slowly he muttered some
gibberish in a very low tone.
At last he gave a little sigh and dropped the hat. He took an old pipe
out of his trouser pocket and lit it. The girl went over to him and sat
by his side. He whispered something to her, and she started violently.
For a few minutes they talked in hurried undertones, and then they stood
up. She gave him money and opened the door for him. He slid out as
silently as he had come in. Then she went over to the captain and leaned
over him so that she could speak into his ear.
Its an enemy praying you to death. Dont talk fool stuff, girlie, he said impatiently.
Its truth. Its Gods truth. Thats why the American doctor couldnt do anything. Our people can do that. Ive seen it done. I thought you
were safe because you were a white man. I havent an enemy. Bananas. Whats he want to pray me to death for? You ought to have fired him before he had a chance. I guess if I aint got nothing more the matter with me than Bananas hoodoo I shall be sitting up and taking nourishment in a very few days. She was silent for a while and she looked at him intently.
Dont you know youre dying? she said to him at last.
That was what the two skippers had thought, but they hadnt said it. A
shiver passed across the captains wan face.
The doctor says there aint nothing really the matter with me. Ive only to lie quiet for a bit and I shall be all right. She put her lips to his ear as if she were afraid that the air itself
might hear.
Youre dying, dying, dying. Youll pass out with the old moon. Thats something to know. Youll pass out with the old moon unless Bananas dies before. He was not a timid man and he had recovered already from the shock her
words, and still more her vehement, silent manner, had given him. Once
more a smile flickered in his eyes.
I guess Ill take my chance, girlie. Theres twelve days before the new moon. There was something in her tone that gave him an idea.
See here, my girl, this is all bunk. I dont believe a word of it. But
I dont want you to try any of your monkey tricks with Bananas. He aint a beauty, but hes a first-rate mate. He would have said a good deal more, but he was tired out. He suddenly
felt very weak and faint. It was always at that hour that he felt worse.
He closed his eyes. The girl watched him for a minute and then slipped
out of the cabin. The moon, nearly full, made a silver pathway over the
dark sea. It shone from an unclouded sky. She looked at it with terror,
for she knew that with its death the man she loved would die. His life
was in her hands. She could save him, she alone could save him, but the
enemy was cunning, and she must be cunning too. She felt that someone
was looking at her, and without turning, by the sudden fear that seized
her, knew that from the shadow the burning eyes of the mate were fixed
upon her. She did not know what he could do; if he could read her
thoughts she was defeated already, and with a desperate effort she
emptied her mind of all content. His death alone could save her lover,
and she could bring his death about. She knew that if he could be
brought to look into a calabash in which was water so that a reflection
of him was made, and the reflection were broken by hurtling the water,
he would die as though he had been struck by lightning; for the
reflection was his soul. But none knew better than he the danger, and he
could be made to look only by a guile which had lulled his least
suspicion. He must never think that he had an enemy who was on the watch
to cause his destruction. She knew what she had to do. But the time was
short, the time was terribly short. Presently she realised that the mate
had gone. She breathed more freely.
Two days later they sailed, and there were ten now before the new moon.
Captain Butler was terrible to see. He was nothing but skin and bone,
and he could not move without help. He could hardly speak. But she dared
do nothing yet. She knew that she must be patient. The mate was cunning,
cunning. They went to one of the smaller islands of the group and
discharged cargo, and now there were only seven days more. The moment
had come to start. She brought some things out of the cabin she shared
with the captain and made them into a bundle. She put the bundle in the
deck cabin where she and Bananas ate their meals, and at dinner time,
when she went in, he turned quickly and she saw that he had been looking
at it. Neither of them spoke, but she knew what he suspected. She was
making her preparations to leave the ship. He looked at her mockingly.
Gradually, as though to prevent the captain from knowing what she was
about, she brought everything she owned into the cabin, and some of the
captains clothes, and made them all into bundles. At last Bananas could
keep silence no longer. He pointed to a suit of ducks.
What are you going to do with that? he asked.
She shrugged her shoulders.
Im going back to my island. He gave a laugh that distorted his grim face. The captain was dying and
she meant to get away with all she could lay hands on.
Whatll you do if I say you cant take those things? Theyre
the captains.
Theyre no use to you, she said.
There was a calabash hanging on the wall. It was the very calabash I had
seen when I came into the cabin and which we had talked about. She took
it down. It was all dusty, so she poured water into it from the
water-bottle, and rinsed it with her fingers.
What are you doing with that? I can sell it for fifty dollars, she said.
If you want to take it youll have to pay me. What dyou want? You know what I want. She allowed a fleeting smile to play on her lips. She flashed a quick
look at him and quickly turned away. He gave a gasp of desire. She
raised her shoulders in a little shrug. With a savage bound he sprang
upon her and seized her in his arms. Then she laughed. She put her arms,
her soft, round arms, about his neck, and surrendered herself to him
voluptuously.
When the morning came she roused him out of a deep sleep. The early rays
of the sun slanted into the cabin. He pressed her to his heart. Then he
told her that the captain could not last more than a day or two, and the
owner wouldnt so easily find another white man to command the ship. If
Bananas offered to take less money he would get the job and the girl
could stay with him. He looked at her with love-sick eyes. She nestled
up against him. She kissed his lips, in the foreign way, in the way the
captain had taught her to kiss. And she promised to stay. Bananas was
drunk with happiness.
It was now or never.
She got up and went to the table to arrange her hair. There was no
mirror and she looked into the calabash, seeking for her reflection. She
tidied her beautiful hair. Then she beckoned to Bananas to come to her.
She pointed to the calabash.
Theres something in the bottom of it, she said.
Instinctively, without suspecting anything, Bananas looked full into the
water. His face was reflected in it. In a flash she beat upon it
violently, with both her hands, so that they pounded on the bottom and
the water splashed up. The reflection was broken in pieces. Bananas
started back with a sudden hoarse cry and he looked at the girl. She was
standing there with a look of triumphant hatred on her face. A horror
came into his eyes. His heavy features were twisted in agony, and with
a thud, as though he had taken a violent poison, he crumpled up on to
the ground. A great shudder passed through his body and he was still.
She leaned over him callously. She put her hand on his heart and then
she pulled down his lower eye-lid. He was quite dead.
She went into the cabin in which lay Captain Butler. There was a faint
colour in his cheeks and he looked at her in a startled way.
Whats happened? he whispered.
They were the first words he had spoken for forty-eight hours.
Nothings happened, she said.
I feel all funny. Then his eyes closed and he fell asleep. He slept for a day and a night,
and when he awoke he asked for food. In a fortnight he was well.
It was past midnight when Winter and I rowed back to shore and we had
drunk innumerable whiskies and sodas.
What do you think of it all? asked Winter.
What a question! If you mean, have I any explanation to suggest, I
havent . The captain believes every word of it. Thats obvious; but you know thats not the part that interests me
most, whether its true or not, and what it all means; the part that
interests me is that such things should happen to such people. I wonder
what there is in that commonplace little man to arouse such a passion in
that lovely creature. As I watched her, asleep there, while he was
telling the story I had some fantastic idea about the power of love
being able to work miracles. But thats not the girl, said Winter.
What on earth do you mean? Didnt you notice the cook? Of course I did. Hes the ugliest man I ever saw. Thats why Butler took him. The girl ran away with the Chinese cook
last year. This is a new one. Hes only had her there about two months. Well, Im hanged. He thinks this cook is safe. But I wouldnt be too sure in his place.
Theres something about a Chink, when he lays himself out to please a
woman she cant resist him.
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