Wyndham's Pal Part 31

Marston, looking from one to the other, felt the crisis had come. Both were calm, but he thought Harry was highly strung. Their glances were strangely keen; they looked like fencers about to engage. Marston reflected that Rupert did not know Harry's new plans; nor did he know Peters meant to meddle.

"Well," said Rupert, "suppose I agree? What have you to offer?"

"Much, I think. Your return to civilized life and the place where you properly belong. However, we'll be practical. You can resume the partnership in Wyndhams' that is really yours. I'll give you any just share to which Bob will consent, and we'll use your knowledge as far as we can do so lawfully. Our business could be extended and the house ought to prosper in our joint control."

Rupert laughed. "You offer money! In England, it would buy no power I have not got, and the things I like I have. We'll let this go. You are my nephew and perhaps you feel you must be generous; but don't you think you're rash? Have you forgotten the years I've lived in the dark? Habits stick. It would be embarra.s.sing if your relation used the manners of a savage, and I have idiosyncrasies that would give fastidious people a nasty jolt. Then, since you have married, what about your wife? Women are rather strict about conventional niceties."

"My wife agrees," Wyndham replied, incautiously.

"To your plans for my reform? Then, you have some plans. You are, so to speak, missionaries. Well, I imagine Marston is fitter for the job. His confidence can't be shaken, and he doesn't bother about the other fellow's point of view. The successful missionary is a fanatic."

"Give the thing up," said Marston, with some sternness. "You're white, you're English! Come out of the mud!"

Rupert shrugged and turned to Wyndham. "Your partner's staunch, but does not use much tact. Can you see me ordering smart young clerks, talking at an old men's club, and amusing your wife's friends in a conventional drawing-room? If so, your imagination's vivid. I can't see myself." He laughed, a harsh laugh. "In the bush I rule with power that n.o.body challenges."

Wyndham made a sign of resignation, and Marston owned defeat. After all, he had not expected to persuade the Bat. Then the latter resumed:

"You refuse to supply the goods I need?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you stay and keep your agent at the village?"

"Moreau will not stay long," said Wyndham, and Marston, seeing where Rupert's question led, wondered how Harry would account for their haunting the lagoon.

"We came to trade," Wyndham went on. "Although I now see it won't pay to keep an agent, we must clear off our stock of goods."

"You can't do so without my leave."

"I doubt this," said Wyndham. "Anyhow, we're going to try. It's obvious you have some power, but a firm rule generally provokes opposition and we may do some business with the dissatisfied."

Rupert looked hard at him. "You may find the experiment dangerous. On the whole, my servants are staunch and know the advantage of keeping out foreigners. Well, this is your affair, and since it's plain we can't agree, I won't stay."

He got up and while Marston studied him with a touch of horror he seemed to change, as if he shook off the superficial civilization he had worn.

His lips got thick and stuck out; they looked strangely red and sensual.

His eyes got dull and the colored veins were plainer, and he rubbed one bare foot with the other's flexible toes. Marston felt he had reverted to the old mulatto.

"You go dash me them bottle?" he said with a grin.

They let him pick up the bottle of brandy, he climbed the ladder, and the hatch slid back. There was no noise on deck and they did not hear a paddle splash, but they knew he had gone. Marston drained his gla.s.s and looked at Wyndham, whose face was rather white. He saw Harry had got a jar, and said nothing.

After a few moments Wyndham broke out: "At the last, he looked a half-breed. A trick of pushing out his lips and stretching his nostrils, perhaps; but one feels he is a half-breed. I think he will never really be a white man again. He gave no hint of regret for all that he has lost; it was rather horrible to see he was content."

"He is content, he has done with civilization," said Marston quietly.

"We must remember this."

Wyndham nodded. "From now, we have not to deal with Rupert Wyndham, but with the Bat. To some extent, it makes the job easier. All the same, we can't give him up to Larrinaga. It's unlucky we could not have kept him on board."

"That was impossible. Your asking him to come implied that he was safe.

Besides, we were forced to try persuasion first. Well, we have tried.

What's the next plan?"

"I have none. We must wait."

"Do you think he was satisfied with the grounds we gave for stopping? I mean, do you imagine he believes we merely want to trade?"

"I don't know," said Wyndham moodily. "Perhaps I made a lucky shot when I talked about our trading with the opposition. I imagine it touched him; looks as if there was an opposition. Then I don't suppose he knows Peters is on our track and his. Well, in the meantime we must use patience and trust our luck."

He went up on deck and Marston went to bed. For a time he heard Wyndham's restless tread on the planks above him, and then he went to sleep.

CHAPTER IV

WYNDHAM FINDS A CLEW

A few days after Rupert's visit to the schooner, a quant.i.ty of cargo arrived. The goods were not valuable, but the owners were satisfied with the payment Wyndham told his agent to offer and Marston was surprised they had got a load at all.

"It's strange," said Wyndham thoughtfully when they lounged under the awning while the negroes unloaded the canoes. "Of course, the Bat may have allowed the stuff to come down, for reasons that are not very plain. On the other hand, it's possible some of the half-breeds don't yet own his rule. Since this might be important, I'd rather like to know, but don't see much chance of our finding out."

Marston noted that Harry called Rupert the Bat, but he agreed. Rupert was no longer a white man. All the same he was Harry's relation.

"I imagine our chance of finding out anything useful here is very small," he rejoined.

"Then suppose we take the cargo across for transshipment and see if we can pick up a clew at the other end?" Wyndham suggested. "If we knew something about Larrinaga's plans, it might help."

Although the schooner was not half-loaded, Marston agreed. Any excuse was good that took him away from the lagoon, and at noon next day _Columbine_ went to sea. The voyage to the white town was short and on the evening of their arrival Marston lounged contentedly on the arcade in front of his hotel. A full moon shone above the flat roofs, the hotel was lighted, and the glow from the windows touched the pavement beyond the pillars. Citizens, enjoying the cool of the evening, crowded the streets, and sometimes stopped at the small tables to drink a gla.s.s of wine. On the opposite side of the street, the straight-fronted houses threw a dark shadow. The band of the _cazadores_ regiment played on the plaza.

Wyndham was talking to a gentleman from whom his agent bought goods. Don Luis came to town to gamble at the casino, and Marston had met him before.

"You must come and see my _finca_," he said. "There are ducks on the marsh and you English are fond of sport."

Marston said he would be pleased to go if they stopped long enough; and then letting Wyndham carry on the talk, watched the pa.s.sers-by. After a few minutes, a big muscular negro entered the belt of light, and Marston glanced at him with some surprise.

"There's Pepe!" he exclaimed.

He doubted if the negro heard him through the clink of gla.s.ses and hum of talk, but it looked as if he saw his quick movement, for he turned his head and went behind a group at a table.

"Somebody like him," said Wyndham carelessly, and when Marston looked back across the street the negro had vanished.

People moved about and Marston imagined he had retired into the gloom, where one could not distinguish him from the others. Pepe was the pilot at the lagoon, a good-humored fellow whom they had generally given a small present besides his pay. As a rule, he did not wear much clothes on board, but he was now rather neatly dressed in white cotton and his hat was good. On the Caribbean coast, men spend large sums on their hats. It looked as if Pepe was getting rich, but Marston could not imagine why he did not want to be seen. He was going to talk about this when he caught Wyndham's eye and he lighted a cigarette.

"My partner is a good shot," Wyndham said to their companion. "We will be occupied for two or three days, but perhaps after that----"

Don Luis fixed a day for their visit, and when he went off Marston turned to Wyndham.

"It was Pepe," he declared.