Traffics and Discoveries Part 48

The owner emerged later. His face didn't read off at all, so I fell back on his c.o.x, 'oo'd been eight years with him and knew him better than boat signals. Lamson--that was the c.o.x's name--crossed 'is bows once or twice at low speeds an' dropped down to me visibly concerned. 'He's shipped 'is court-martial face,' says Lamson. 'Some one's goin' to be 'ung. I've never seen that look but once before when they chucked the gun-sights overboard in the _Fantastic_.' Throwin' gun-sights overboard, Mr. Hooper, is the equivalent for mutiny in these degenerate days. It's done to attract the notice of the authorities an' the _Western Mornin' News_--generally by a stoker. Naturally, word went round the lower deck an' we had a private over'aul of our little consciences. But, barrin' a shirt which a second- cla.s.s stoker said 'ad walked into 'is bag from the marines flat by itself, nothin' vital transpired. The owner went about flyin' the signal for 'attend public execution,' so to say, but there was no corpse at the yardarm. 'E lunched on the beach an' 'e returned with 'is regulation harbour-routine face about 3 P. M. Thus Lamson lost prestige for raising false alarms. The only person 'oo might 'ave connected the epicycloidal gears correctly was one Pyecroft, when he was told that Mr. Vickery would go up country that same evening to take over certain naval ammunition left after the war in Bloemfontein Fort. No details was ordered to accompany Master Vickery. He was told off first person singular--as a unit---by himself."

The marine whistled penetratingly.

"That's what I thought," said Pyecroft. "I went ash.o.r.e with him in the cutter an' 'e asked me to walk through the station. He was clickin'

audibly, but otherwise seemed happy-ish.

"'You might like to know,' he says, stoppin' just opposite the Admiral's front gate, 'that Phyllis's Circus will be performin' at Worcester to-morrow night. So I shall see 'er yet once again. You've been very patient with me,' he says.

"'Look here, Vickery,' I said, 'this thing's come to be just as much as I can stand. Consume your own smoke. I don't want to know any more.'

"'You!' he said. 'What have you got to complain of?--you've only 'ad to watch. I'm _it_,' he says, 'but that's neither here nor there,' he says.

'I've one thing to say before shakin' 'ands. Remember,' 'e says--we were just by the Admiral's garden-gate then--'remember, that I am _not_ a murderer, because my lawful wife died in childbed six weeks after I came out. That much at least I am clear of,' 'e says.

"'Then what have you done that signifies?' I said. 'What's the rest of it?'

"'The rest,' 'e says, 'is silence,' an' he shook 'ands and went clickin'

into Simons Town station."

"Did he stop to see Mrs. Bathurst at Worcester?" I asked.

"It's not known. He reported at Bloemfontein, saw the ammunition into the trucks, and then 'e disappeared. Went out--deserted, if you care to put it so--within eighteen months of his pension, an' if what 'e said about 'is wife was true he was a free man as 'e then stood. How do you read it off?"

"Poor devil!" said Hooper. "To see her that way every night! I wonder what it was."

"I've made my 'ead ache in that direction many a long night."

"But I'll swear Mrs. B. 'ad no 'and in it," said the Sergeant unshaken.

"No. Whatever the wrong or deceit was, he did it, I'm sure o' that. I 'ad to look at 'is face for five consecutive nights. I'm not so fond o'

navigatin' about Cape Town with a South-Easter blowin' these days. I can hear those teeth click, so to say."

"Ah, those teeth," said Hooper, and his hand went to his waistcoat pocket once more. "Permanent things false teeth are. You read about 'em in all the murder trials."

"What d'you suppose the captain knew--or did?" I asked.

"I never turned my searchlight that way," Pyecroft answered unblushingly.

We all reflected together, and drummed on empty beer bottles as the picnic-party, sunburned, wet, and sandy, pa.s.sed our door singing "The Honeysuckle and the Bee."

"Pretty girl under that kapje," said Pyecroft.

"They never circulated his description?" said Pritchard.

"I was askin' you before these gentlemen came," said Hooper to me, "whether you knew w.a.n.kies--on the way to the Zambesi--beyond Buluwayo?"

"Would he pa.s.s there--tryin' to get to that Lake what's 'is name?" said Pritchard.

Hooper shook his head and went on: "There's a curious bit o' line there, you see. It runs through solid teak forest--a sort o' mahogany really-- seventy-two miles without a curve. I've had a train derailed there twenty- three times in forty miles. I was up there a month ago relievin' a sick inspector, you see. He told me to look out for a couple of tramps in the teak."

"Two?" Pyecroft said. "I don't envy that other man if----"

"We get heaps of tramps up there since the war. The inspector told me I'd find 'em at M'Bindwe siding waiting to go North. He'd given 'em some grub and quinine, you see. I went up on a construction train. I looked out for 'em. I saw them miles ahead along the straight, waiting in the teak. One of 'em was standin' up by the dead-end of tke siding an' the other was squattin' down lookin' up at 'im, you see."

"What did you do for 'em?" said Pritchard.

"There wasn't much I could do, except bury 'em. There'd been a bit of a thunderstorm in the teak, you see, and they were both stone dead and as black as charcoal. That's what they really were, you see--charcoal. They fell to bits when we tried to shift 'em. The man who was standin' up had the false teeth. I saw 'em shinin' against the black. Fell to bits he did too, like his mate squatting down an' watchin' him, both of 'em all wet in the rain. Both burned to charcoal, you see. And--that's what made me ask about marks just now--the false-toother was tattooed on the arms and chest--a crown and foul anchor with M.V. above."

"I've seen that," said Pyecroft quickly. "It was so."

"But if he was all charcoal-like?" said Pritchard, shuddering.

"You know how writing shows up white on a burned letter? Well, it was like that, you see. We buried 'em in the teak and I kept... But he was a friend of you two gentlemen, you see."

Mr. Hooper brought his hand away from his waistcoat-pocket--empty.

Pritchard covered his face with his hands for a moment, like a child shutting out an ugliness.

"And to think of her at Hauraki!" he murmured--"with 'er 'air-ribbon on my beer. 'Ada,' she said to her niece... Oh, my Gawd!"...

"On a summer afternoon, when the honeysuckle blooms, And all Nature seems at rest, Underneath the bower, 'mid the perfume of the flower, Sat a maiden with the one she loves the best----"

sang the picnic-party waiting for their train at Glengariff.

"Well, I don't know how you feel about it," said Pyecroft, "but 'avin'

seen 'is face for five consecutive nights on end, I'm inclined to finish what's left of the beer an' thank Gawd he's dead!"

BELOW THE MILL DAM

"OUR FATHERS ALSO"

By--they are by with mirth and tears, Wit or the works of Desire-- Cushioned about on the kindly years Between the wall and the fire.

The grapes are pressed, the corn is shocked-- Standeth no more to glean; For the Gates of Love and Learning locked When they went out between.

All lore our Lady Venus bares Signalled it was or told By the dear lips long given to theirs And longer to the mould.

All Profit, all Device, all Truth Written it was or said By the mighty men of their mighty youth.

Which is mighty being dead.

The film that floats before their eyes The Temple's Veil they call; And the dust that on the Shewbread lies Is holy over all.

Warn them of seas that slip our yoke Of slow conspiring stars-- The ancient Front of Things unbroke But heavy with new wars?

By--they are by with mirth and tears.

Wit or the waste of Desire-- Cushioned about on the kindly years Between the wall and the fire.