Part 5 (2/2)

”You would almost think!” and Jefferson gazed at him a moment in astonishment. ”Well, I guess you were made that way, and you can't help it. Now, I'm open to tell anybody who cares to listen that that girl was a revelation to me. She's good all through, there's not a thought in her that isn't clean and wholesome. After all, that's what a man wants to fall back upon. Then she's dainty, clever, and refined, with sweetness and graciousness just oozing out of her. It's all round her like an atmosphere.”

Austin was slightly amused, though he would not for his life have shown it. It occurred to him that an excess of the qualities his companion admired in Miss Gascoyne might prove monotonous, especially if they were, as in her case, a little too obtrusive. He also fancied that this was the first time anybody had called her clever. Still, Jefferson's supreme belief in the woman he loved appealed to him in spite of its somewhat too vehement expression, and he reflected that there was probably some truth in Jacinta's observation that the woman whose lover credited her with all the graces might, at least, acquire some of them.

It seemed that a simple and somewhat narrow-minded English girl, without imagination, such as Miss Gascoyne was in reality, might still hear what Jacinta called the celestial music, and, listening, become transformed.

After all, it was not mere pa.s.sion which vibrated in Jefferson's voice and had shone in Muriel Gascoyne's eyes, and Austin vaguely realised that the faith that can believe in the apparently impossible and the charity that sees no shortcomings are not altogether of this earth.

Then he brushed these thoughts aside and turned to his companion with a little smile.

”How did you ever come to be here, Jefferson?” he asked, irrelevantly.

”It's rather a long way from the land of progress and liberty.”

Jefferson laughed in a somewhat curious fas.h.i.+on. ”Well,” he said, ”others have asked me, but I'll tell you, and I've told Miss Gascoyne. I had a good education, and I'm thankful for it now. There is money in the family, but it was born in most of us to go to sea. I went because I had to, and it made trouble. The man who had the money had plotted out quite a different course for me. Still, I did well enough until the night the _Sachem_--there are several of them, but I guess you know the one I mean--went down. I was mate, but it wasn't in my watch the Dutchman struck her.”

”Ah!” said Austin softly, ”that explains a good deal! It wasn't exactly a pleasant story.”

He eat looking at his companion with grave sympathy as the details of a certain grim tragedy in which the brutally handled crew had turned upon their persecutors when the s.h.i.+p was sinking under them came back to him.

Knowing tolerably well what usually happens when official enquiry follows upon a disaster at sea, he had a suspicion that the truth had never become altogether apparent, though the affair had made a sensation two or three years earlier. Still, while Jefferson had not mentioned his part in it, he had already exonerated him.

”It was so unpleasant that I couldn't find a s.h.i.+pping company on our side who had any use for the _Sachem_'s mate,” he said, and his voice sank a little. ”Of course, it never all came out, but there were more than two of the men who went down that night who weren't drowned. Well, what could you expect of a man with a pistol when the one friend he had in that floating h.e.l.l dropped at his feet with his head adzed open. That left me and Nolan aft. He was a brute--a murdering, pitiless devil; but there were he and I with our backs to the jigger-mast, and a few of the rest left who meant that we should never get into the quarter-boat.”

Austin was a trifle startled. ”You told Miss Gascoyne that?” he said.

”How did she take it?”

Jefferson made a curious little gesture. ”Of course,” he said simply. ”I had to. She believed in me; but do you think I'm going to tell--you--how it hurt her?”

It was borne in upon Austin that, after all, he understood very little about women. A few days earlier it would have seemed impossible to him that a girl with Muriel Gascoyne's straitened views should ever have linked her life with one who had played a leading part in that revolting tragedy. Now, however, it was evident that there was very little she would not do for the man who loved her.

”I'm sorry! You'll excuse it,” he said. ”Still, that scarcely explains how you came to Las Palmas.”

”I came as deck-hand on board a barque bringing tomato boxes over. They were busy at the coaling wharf just then, and I got put on. You know the rest of it. I was left forty thousand dollars.”

”You haven't told me yet how you're going to turn them into eighty thousand.”

”I'm coming to it. You know we coaled the _c.u.mbria_ before she went out to West Africa. A nearly new 1,500-ton tramp she was, light draught at that, or she'd never have gone where she did. You could put her down at 15,000 sterling. She went up into the half-charted creeks behind the shoals and islands south of Senegal, and was lost there. Among other things, it was a new gum she went for. It appears the n.i.g.g.e.rs find gums worth up to 5 the hundredweight in the bush behind that country. A Frenchman chartered her, but he's dead now, as is almost everybody connected with the _c.u.mbria_. They've fevers that will wipe you out in a week or two yonder--more fever, in fact, than anywhere else in Africa.

Well, as everybody knows, they got oil and sundries and a little gum, and went down with fever while they crawled about those creeks loading her. She got hard in the mud up one of them, and half of the boys were buried before they pulled her out at all, and then she hit something that started a plate or two in her. They couldn't keep the water down, and they rammed her into a mangrove forest to save her. More of them died there, and the salvage expedition lost three or four men before they turned up their contract.”

”That,” said Austin, ”is what might be termed the official version.”

Jefferson nodded. ”What everybody doesn't know is that the skipper played the Frenchman a crooked game,” he said. ”There was more gum put into her than was ever shown in her papers; while they had got at the trade gin before she went ash.o.r.e. In fact, I have a notion that it wasn't very unlike the _Sachem_ affair. I can't quite figure how they came to start those plates in the soft mud of a mangrove creek. Any way, the carpenter, who died there, was a countryman of mine. You may remember I did a few things for him, and the man was grateful. Well, the result is I know there's a good deal more than 20,000 sterling in the _c.u.mbria_.”

Austin surmised that this was possible. It was not, he knew, seafarers of unexceptional character who usually ventured into the still little known creeks of Western Africa, which the coast mailboats' skippers left alone. He was also aware that more or less responsible white men are apt to go a trifle off their balance and give their pa.s.sions free rein when under the influence of cheap spirits in that land of pestilence.

”Well?” he said.

”I've bought her, as she lies, for 6,000.”

Austin gasped. ”You will probably die off in two or three weeks after you put your foot in her.”

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