Kitabı oku: «The Heart of Denise, and Other Tales», sayfa 9
"Aho, Mohonagh! Thy blessing is on me, the Sansi." He said this loudly in bravado, and was almost frightened again at the echoes of his own voice in the vault of the dome. He had spoken with the same feeling in his heart that makes a timid traveller whistle when passing a place he dreads. He had spoken to keep his heart up, and the very sound of his own voice terrified him. At last the echoes died away and there was silence in the shrine. Large beads of sweat stood on the man's forehead. Almost did he feel it in his heart to flee at once; but to leave that priceless treasure now! It could not be. In two strides he was beside the tree. A wrench of the claw-hammer and a jewelled bracelet was in his hand; another wrench and he had secured another blazing trophy.
"Beeroo!"
The man looked up in guilty amazement. To his horror he saw that the three heads of the idol, which were facing the door when he entered, had moved round, and were now facing him. The hammer fell from his hand with a crash, and he stood shivering, a grey figure with staring eyes and open gasping mouth.
"Ai, Mohonagh!" he said in a choking voice.
"The blessing of Mohonagh is on thee;" and something that seemed all on fire rose from behind the idol, and laid its hand on Beeroo's face. With a shriek of agony the Sansi rolled on the floor, and twisted and curled there like a snake with a broken back.
When, roused by his cries, the people and the priests awoke and hurried to the temple, they shrank back in terror; and none dared enter, not even the priests, for from the mouths of the idol three long tongues of flame played, paling the glow of the cressets and throwing its light on the blind and writhing wretch at its feet.
Suddenly a quiet voice spoke at the temple-door, and Prem Sagar the high-priest appeared. "O pilgrims," he said, "be not afraid! Mohonagh has but protected his treasure, and given us a sign. Said I not he would do this, Purun Chand? See," he added, as he stepped into the temple, and lifted up the gems from the floor, "this man would have robbed a god!" And the people, together with the priests, fell on their knees and touched the earth with their foreheads, crying "Ai, ai, Mohonagh!"
Prem Sagar pointed to Beeroo. "Bear him outside the temple-gates and leave him there," he said; "he is blind and cannot see."
Two or three men volunteered to do this, and they bore him out as Prem Sagar had ordered, and cast him on the roadside without the temple-gates; and he, to whom day and night were to be henceforth ever the same, lay there moaning in the dust.
Late that morning certain pilgrims returning to their houses found him there, and, being pitiful, offered to guide him back. It is said that the first question he asked was, "When will it be daylight?" And a Dogra of the hills answered bluntly, "Fool, thou art blind"; whereat the Sansi lapsed into a stony silence, and was led away like a child.
In the tribe of the Sansis, who wander from Tajawala to Jagadhri where the brass-workers are, and from Jagadhri to Karnal, is a blind madman who bears on his scarred face the impress of a hand. It is said that he can cure all diseases at will, for he is the only man living who has stood face to face with a god.
THE FOOT OF GAUTAMA
The Gregory Gasper, or, as the Lascars insisted on calling her, the Gir Giri Gaspa, bound from Calcutta to Rangoon and the Straits, had injured her machinery, and was now going, as it were, on one leg, and going very lamely, across the Bay of Bengal. We had got into a dead calm. The sea and the sky fused into each other in the horizon, and the water around us was as molten glass, parting sluggishly before the bows of the ship, instead of dancing back in a creamy foam.
"By Jove!" said Sladen, as he leaned over the side and watched the lazy brown swell lounge backward from our course, "this is a dirty bit of water: that wave should have had a white head to it. I believe we've got into a sea of flat beer."
"We've got to go to Rangoon for hospital, and this is the outwater of the Irawadi," said a passenger from his seat. "We can't be more than sixty miles from the coast, and an Irawadi flood shoots its slime out quite as far as that."
"I prefer to think it's flat ale. It's too hot to go into physical geography, Burgess"; and Sladen, flinging the half-burnt stump of his cheroot overboard, joined us who sat in torpid silence. The heat was intense. We had tried every known way to kill time, and failed.
The small excitement of the morning, caused by a shoal of turtles drifting by solemnly, had passed. They looked like so many inverted earthen pots in the water, and we had wasted about fifty of the ship's snider cartridges on them, until, finally, they floated out of range and sight, unhurt and safe. Then an Indian Marine vessel passed us in the offing, and there was a hot discussion between Sladen and myself whether it was the Warren Hastings or the Lord Clive. We appealed to the captain, who, being a member of the Royal Naval Reserve, looked with profound scorn on the Indian Marine. He scarcely deigned to glance at the ship as he grunted out:
"Oh, it's one of those damned cockroach navy boats: it's that old tub the Lord Clive," and he walked off to the bridge. Ten minutes afterwards we lost the grey sides of the old tub in the grey of the sea, and a dark line of smoke running from east to west was the only sign of the Lord Clive, as she steamed through the dead calm at fourteen knots an hour. Then we tried nap, we adventured at loo, and we bluffed at poker. There was no balm in them, and Sladen twice held a flush sequence of hearts. Therefore we sat moody and silent, some of us too sleepy even to smoke.
It was at this moment that the skipper rejoined us, and behind him came his stout Madrassee butler, with a tray full of long glasses, in which the ice chinked pleasantly.
"Drink, boys!" he said, settling himself in the special chair reserved for him. "It's the chief's watch, and I've brought you a particular brew, as you seem dull and lonesome, so to speak."
It was a particular brew, and we sucked at it lovingly through the long amber straws.
"Ha!" said the skipper, "I thought that would stiffen your backbones. Phew! it is hot!" and he mopped his face with a huge handkerchief.
Sladen burst out: "We've got absolutely on the hump. Somebody do something to kill time. Can't some of you fellows tell a story? Any lie will do! Come, Captain!"
"No, no!" said the skipper. "I'm the senior officer here, and speak last. Here's Mr. Burgess: he's been in all sorts of uncanny places, and should be able to tell us something. I put the call on him-so heave away."
Burgess, the man who had spoken about the outwater of the Irawadi, leaned back for a moment in his chair, with half-closed eyes. He was a short, squarely built man, very sunburnt, with mouth and chin hidden by the growth of a large moustache and beard. There was nothing particular in his appearance; yet in following his calling-that of an orchid-hunter-he had been to strange places and seen strange things. Sladen, who knew him well, hinted darkly that he had traversed unknown tracts of country, had hobnobbed with cannibals, and held his life in his hands for the past thirty years.
"You've hit on the very man, Captain," said Sladen. "Now, Burgess, tell us how you found the snake-orchid, and sold it to a duchess for a thousand pounds. You promised to tell me the story one day, you remember?"
"That's too long. I'll tell you a story, however"; and Burgess lifted up his drink, took a pull at it, and, picking up the straw that leaned back in a helpless manner against the edge of the glass, began twisting it round his fingers as he spoke.
"All this happened many years ago-"
"When flowers and birds could talk," interrupted the Boy; and Burgess, turning on him, said slowly: "Flowers and birds can talk now. When you are older you will understand."
The Boy looked down a little abashed, and Burgess continued: "I am afraid to say how many years ago I first went to Burma. I was as poor as a rat, and things had panned out badly for me. Rangoon then was not the Rangoon of to-day, and the old king Min-Doon Min, who succeeded to the throne after the war, was still almost all-powerful. He was not a bad fellow, and I once did a roaring trade with him at Mandalay: exchanged fifty packets of coloured candles for fifty pigeon's-blood rubies. They had a big illumination at the palace that night, and I only narrowly escaped being made a member of the cabinet. I, however, got the right of travelling through his majesty's dominions, wherever and whenever I pleased; but the chief queen made it a condition that I should supply no more coloured candles. She preferred the rubies; and I fancy old Min-Doon Min must have had a bad time of it, for the queen was as remarkable for her thrift as for her tongue. She was as close as that" – Burgess held up a square brown fist before us, and, as he did so, I noticed the white line of a scar running across it, below the knuckles, from thumb to little finger. He caught my eye resting on it, and laughingly said: "It's a seal of the kind friends I have in Kinnabalu. But to resume, as the story-books say. All this about Min-Doon is a 'divarsion,' and I'll go back to the point when I found myself first at Rangoon, with all my wardrobe on my back, and a two-dollar bill in my pocket. After drifting about for some time, I got employment in a rice-shipping firm, and set myself to work to learn the language. In about a year I could speak it well, and, having got promotion in the firm, felt myself on the high road to fortune. It was hard work: the boss knew the value of every penny he spent, and took every ounce he could out of his men."
"Bosses are cut out of the same pattern even now," murmured the Boy. "The breed don't seem to improve."
Burgess took no notice of the interruption, but went on: "I was finally placed in charge of some work at Syriam; and a little misfortune happened-my over-man died. It was rather a job to get another. Men were not easily picked up in those days. But at last I unearthed one, or rather he unearthed himself. He hailed from the States, and described himself as a Kentucky man-the real 'half-horse, half-alligator' breed. I asked no questions, but set him to work, and reported to the boss, who said 'All right.' The new man seemed to be a gem: he turned up regularly, stayed till all hours, and never spared himself. He was a great lanky fellow, with dark hair, and eyes so palely grey that they seemed almost white. They gave him an odd appearance; but, as good looks were not a qualification in our business, it did not matter much what he was like. He had been a miner, and had also been to sea, and knew how to obey an order at the double. One day he suddenly looked up from his table-we sat in the same room-and asked if I had heard of treasure ever being buried in or near old pagodas.
"'Every one hears such stories,' I answered; 'but why do you ask?'
"'Wal,' he went on, in his slow drawl, 'I've bin readin' ez haow a Portugee called Brito, or some sich name, did a little bit of piracy in these hyar parts, until his games were stopped by the local Jedge Lynch. They ran a stick through him, as the Burmese do now to a dried duck.'
"'What's that got to do with buried treasure?'
"'You air smart! This Brito, before his luck petered out, had a pow'ful soothin' time of it with the junks an' pagodas, and poongyies, as they call their clergy. Guess he didn't lay round hyar for nuthin', an' if all I've heard be true, vermilion isn't the name for the paint he put on the squint-eyes.
"'But-'
"He put up his hand. 'So long. I'm thinkin' that, ef I'd a smart pard-one who saveyed their lingo-we might strike a lead of luck.'
"I was always a bit of a roving character, and fond of a little adventure, so that the conversation interested me; still, however, I objected, more with a desire to see how much Stevens, as he called himself, knew than anything else.
"'See thar,' he said, pulling out a map from his drawer and unrolling it on the table. 'See thar! This is where Brito and his crowd were,' and he laid a long forefinger on the mouths of the Irawadi. 'When they bested him, the Burmese got little or nuthin' back. I want a pard-one who knows the lingo, an' is a white man. You set me up when I'd struck bed rock; an' I says to myself, Wal, this 'ere is a white man. Ef ever Hake Stevens gets a pile, it's to be halves. The pile's thar-will you jine?'
"He stood up, and put his hand on my shoulder. It really wasn't good enough. Stevens had simply got hold of a very ordinary legend after all, and I laughed back, 'You'll make more out of a rice-boom, Stevens, some day, than ever you will out of Brito's treasure.' He rolled up the map and put it back into his drawer.
"'I've done the squar' thing by you, pard,' he said. 'No one can deny ez I haven't done the squar' by you.'
"'Of course,' I answered, and turned to my duties. From that time, however, Stevens seemed to be able to think of nothing but his imaginary treasure. Some days afterwards he did not come to work, and the following day we got an ill-spelt letter, resigning his post, and asking that the money due to him should be sent to a certain address. We paid up, and got a Chinaman in his place."
"In a short time the Chinaman will be doing everybody's work in Burma," said Sladen. "Hand over the baccy, please, Captain."
The skipper flung Sladen a black rubber tobacco pouch, and Burgess, in this interlude, finished his glass.
"I clean forgot all about Stevens, when one evening, as I was sitting in my rooms over a pipe, my servant told me some one wished to see me. I told the man to admit him, and Stevens came in. He seemed fairly well off; but was, if possible, a trifle thinner than when I last saw him. He shook me by the hand, disjointed himself like a fishing-rod, and sank into a chair.
"'Wal, pard, will you jine?'
"'Still at the old game, Stevens? No, I don't think I'll join on a fool's search like that.'
"'Fool's search, you call it. Very wal, let it be naow; but I want you to come with me this evening to an entertainment. It's a sort of swarrey; but I guess ez we'll be the only guests.'
"'Have a whiskey first?'
"'I guess ez haow a wet won't hurt,' and he poured himself out a glass from the bottle-we weren't up to decanters in Burma then.
"I thought I might as well go, and, having made up my mind, we were walking down the street in the next ten minutes. Rangoon was not laid out in squares as it is now, with each street numbered, so that losing your way is an impossibility. Well as I knew the place, I found that Hake Stevens was aware of short cuts and by-lanes which I had never seen before. We entered the Chinese quarter. It was a feast-day for John, and the street was alight with paper lanterns: dragons, serpents, globes, and tortoises swung to and fro in all manner of colours. Here a green dragon went openmouthed at a yellow serpent, there an amber tortoise swung in a circle of crimson-and-blue globes. We passed a joss house, where there was an illuminated inscription to the effect that enlightenment finds its way even amongst the outer barbarians, and, turning to the left, much where Twenty-Seven Street is now-a fire wiped out all that part of Rangoon years ago-went up a gully, and finally stopped before a small shop. Sitting in a cane chair in the doorway was a short man, so enormously stout that he was almost globular. 'Is he in?' asked Stevens, in English; and the man, with his teeth closed on the stem of the opium pipe he smoked, answered 'Yess,' or rather hissed the words between his lips. We passed by him with some little difficulty, for he made no effort to move, and, ascending a rickety staircase, entered a small room, dimly lighted by a cheap kerosene lamp. In one corner of the room an old man was seated. He rose as we entered, and saluted us.
"'This is the host,' and Stevens waved his hand in introduction. 'But he knows only about six words of English, and I know nothing of his derned lip, so you see my new pard an' I cayn't very well exchange confidences.'
"I confess to a feeling of utter disappointment when I saw what we had come to; but there was no use in saying anything. 'Who is he? How did you get to know him?' I asked Stevens. He closed an eyebrow over one of his white-grey eyes with a portentous wink.
"'That, pard, is one of the secrets of the past. We hev the future before us.'
"I never could quite make Stevens out. He spoke the most obtrusive Yankee; yet with turns of expression which at times induced me to think he was playing a part.
"'Very well,' I laughed,' I don't want to look back; but may I ask what is the entertainment this gentleman has provided for us?'
"'Wal,' replied Stevens, 'he's just one of their medicine-men: goes off to sleep, and then tells you all about everything. I'm goin' to lay round for him to tell us where Brito's pile is. Spirit-rappin' does strange things in my country, an' I don't see ez how this old cuss moutn't be of help.'
"The old tack again! – I resigned myself to fate. There is no use in going into preliminaries. Stevens stated what he wanted, and I explained fully and clearly what was required. We then paid our fee, which the old gentleman wrapped up for security in a corner of the saffron sash he wore round his head, and told us to sit down before him. Then he stripped himself to the waist-there wasn't much to remove-and spread a square of white cloth on the floor; on this he placed a mirror, brought the light close to the mirror, and then settled himself cross-legged before his arrangement of mirror and light.
"'Listen!' he said in Burmese. 'I have given my word, and will show you what you want; but you must not speak, and you must follow my directions implicitly.'
"I translated to Stevens, who willingly agreed. "'Now shut your eyes.'
"We did so, and I felt his hands passing over my face. Then something cold touched my forehead, leaving a sensation much like that caused by a menthol crystal. A moment later a subtle odour filled the room-an odour indescribably sweet and heavy, the effect of which on me was to make me feel giddy.
"'Open your eyes!'
"I almost started, for the words were spoken in the purest English. We obeyed, and found the room full of a pale blue vapour. The lamp had gone out; but the mirror was instinct with light, and threw a halo around it, showing the dim outline of the sorcerer crouched low down with his face between his hands. "'Look!'
"The voice seemed to come from all parts of the room at once, and Stevens' hand clutched on to my shoulder, the fingers gripping in like a vice. We bent over the glass, and saw reflected in it, not our own faces, but a wide creek, overhung by forest on each side, and a row of six colossal images of Buddha, or Gautamas as they are called, lining one of the banks. Whilst we looked on this silent scene, a boat with a couple of native oarsmen came round the elbow of the creek. In the stern sat a man in an old-fashioned dress, with a cuirass on; and as the boat grounded lightly near the figure of the largest Gautama, he leaped actively to land, holding up from the ground a long, basket-hilted rapier. The two men followed, bearing with them an iron-bound chest, and laid it at the feet of the biggest Gautama; then returning to the boat, they brought picks therefrom, and began to dig, the man with the rapier standing over them, resting on the hilt of his sword. They dug away under the foot of the idol, and finally concluded they had gone far enough. The chief examined their work, and some words passed. We saw the lips moving, but heard nothing. The box was buried carefully, and the stones and earth put back, so as to remove all traces of the hiding-place of the treasure. Some further directions were given, and one of the two natives stooped as if to throw some brushwood over the spot. The next moment the rapier passed through his body. He twisted himself double, and rolled over dead. The other turned to flee, but there was a flash, a small curl of blue and grey smoke, and he fell forward on his face into the water and sank. The cavalier, still holding the pistol in his hand, went up to the first man. There was no doubt he was dead; so the Don put back his pistol, wiped his sword carefully with a handful of grass, and returned it to its scabbard; then he dragged the body to the creek and flung it in. After that he gave a last look at the foot of the Gautama, and, jumping into the boat, began to paddle himself away.
"'Dead men tell no tales.' The words seemed to burst from Stevens. Instantly there was a blinding flash, and when we recovered ourselves the room was as before. The cloth and mirror had gone, and the old sorcerer was seated on his stool in the corner of the room, the lamp burning dimly beside him.
"'You spoke,' he said. 'I can do no more.'
"I looked at Stevens reproachfully, and he understood. His face was very pale, and his lips blue with excitement. After a little he recovered himself, and said, with a shake of eagerness in his voice:
"'Cayn't this old cuss start fresh, an' give us another run?'
"'I can do nothing,' replied the man to my inquiry. 'You must go now.'
"We turned to depart, and when we got into the street Stevens said to me: 'I'll see you home. I'm afraid I busted the show.'
"'I'm afraid you have; but it's no use crying over spilt milk.'
"Stevens made no answer, and we walked back to my rooms without saying a word. At the door he left me abruptly, refusing all offers to come in. Once in my rooms, I tried to think out the matter, but gave it up and went to bed. Sleep wouldn't come, so I lay awake the whole night, picturing to myself over and over again the grim scene I had seen enacted in the mirror. Towards morning I dropped into a troubled sleep, and awoke rather late. I got out of bed thinking that the events of the past night were, after all, nothing more than a dream; but it all came back to me. When I went down to breakfast I found Stevens waiting for me, and he pressed me earnestly to join him in a search for the place we had seen in the looking-glass. I was in an irritable mood. 'Great Scott!' I said, 'can't you see that all this is only a conjurer's trick? How many thousand Gautamas are there in Burma? Are you going to dig them all up?'
"'Some men don't know their luck, pard,' he said, as he left me; and, although I thought of him sometimes, I never heard anything more of him for a long time.
"A run of bad luck came now, and the boss suspended payment-went bung, in fact-and I was thrown on my beam ends. I had something in the stocking, though; and it was about this time that my thoughts kept turning continually towards the orchid trade. It first struck me in this way: A friend of mine had written from home, pointing out that a demand had arisen for orchids; and the small supply I sent was sold on such favourable terms that I was seriously considering a larger venture. I thought the matter over, and one evening after dinner determined to give it a final consideration. So I lit my pipe, and strolled out towards the jetties-a favourite walk of mine. It was bright moonlight; and I walked up and down the planking, more and more resolved at every turn I took to decide upon the orchid business.
"At one end of the jetty there was a crane that stretched out its arm in a how-de-do sort of manner to the river below it. I walked up to it with idle curiosity, and when I came close, saw the figure of a European, apparently fast asleep, near the carriage of the crane. A common 'drunk' or a loafer, I thought to myself-when the figure rose to a sitting posture, and, as the moonlight shone on its face, I could not make a mistake.
"'Stevens!' I said.
"'Wal, pard?' and Hake Stevens, without another word, rose up and stood before me.
"I saw at a glance that he was in rags, and that about the third of one stockingless foot was protruding in an easy manner from his boot; the other boot seemed more or less wearable. Stevens had a habit of walking with a lurch to his left-heeling over to port, as it were-which accounted for the fact I observed.
"'Why,' I said, putting my hand on his shoulder, 'how has it come to this? Why didn't you come to me?'
"'Have you got a smoke?' he asked.
"For answer I handed him my baccy pouch, and he loaded an old pipe.
"'Light-o!'
"I struck a vesta, and handed it to him. By the flare of it I could see him very white and starved.
"'Now,' I added, 'you come straight home with me.'
"'Guess ez haow I was making tracks thar, when I broke down, an' had to heave to. I hev found it this time. See hyar.'
"'First come home with me, and then you can tell me all about it. I won't hear a word till you've had something to eat and a rest.'
"It was only a few minutes' walk to my rooms; but I had to half carry Stevens there. Those were the days when cabs were unknown, remember. As soon as we arrived, I told my boy to raise supper; and in the meantime Stevens had a stiff whiskey, a bath, and changed into some of my things. He looked a figure of fun as he came out, with about a yard of lean leg and leaner arm sticking out of the things I'd given him. But, Lord! you should have seen him wolf the cold meat and pickles! When he'd done, I was for just marching him straight to bed. But, no: he was determined to tell me his story; so I let him run his course.
"'Pard,' he said, 'when I busted the caboodle that night, an' left you, I said to myself: "Hake Stevens, you chowder-headed clam, you jest make this level; you've done an all-fired foolish thing, an' now you've got ter eat yer leek." The next mornin' I gave you another try, but you wouldn't rise to it; so I went off an' took a passage to Henzada. It was all in the low countries that Brito was, an' I determined to work the thing in square-work every inch of it, ef it took me a hundred years, until I found thet creek with the images. I got to Henzada in a rice boat; then I pulled out my map, marked my square, an' set to work. I bought a paddle canoe, an' blazed every creek I went up. I made up my mind ez I should work down'erds from Henzada, ez thet was the furthest point old Brito struck. I calc'lated thet ef he was hard pressed, an' the Burmee squint-eyes were gettin' the jamb on him, he would lay fur to hide his greenbacks ez far from his usual bars ez possible. Wal, I worked those creeks up an' down, night an' day, gettin' what I could out of the villagers on payment, an' when the dollars ran out, got it without payment. Snakes! How the squitters fed on me! An' I was a'most so starved thet, ef I could on'y hev managed it, I'd hev fed on them like a fish, an' got some of myself back agen. Wal, it woke snakes when they found I swooped down on their cokynut plantations, and one thing and another; but a freeborn American ain't goin' fur to starve when these hyar yeller Burmans gits their bellies full. The local sheriff and his posse turned out, an' thar was a vigilance committee behind every tree. Shootin' was not in my line, unless forced to; so I skedaddled, an' they after me. It was a tight race, an' I was so weak I felt I could hardly hold out; so I thought I'd better take to land. I shot the canoe under some branches, an', to my surprise, found they overhung an' concealed a small passage, hardly wide enough for two canoes abreast. Up this I went: it was easier goin' than walkin' through the thorns. After about four hours of shovin' through slime, it widened out; an' then, turnin' a great clump of bamboos, I swung round to my right-an' what do you think I saw?'
"He stretched his hand out to me, and the grey of his eyes seemed absolutely to whiten. "'Ez I live, I saw the six big images all in a row, each one bigger than the other; an' they war smilin' across the creek, as they smiled when Brito buried his treasure thar, an' God knows how many years before. I ran the boat ashore, jumped off, an' patted the big idol's knee-couldn't reach further up; an' then I came back to find you. The gold lies thar, pard, an' we are made men: it's thar, I say. Come back with me; share an' share alike-hands on it.'
"His voice cracked as he brought his story to this abrupt close; and I said nothing, but shook his outstretched hand.
"'When can we start?' he asked.
"'You must pull yourself together a bit, Stevens, before we do anything of the kind.'
"Then I told him briefly how I was a free man, and able to go where I listed; and that, as I could combine my first essay in orchid-hunting with the search for Brito's treasure, I didn't care how soon I went. But it could not be until Stevens was better able to travel, as the rains were coming on, and further exposure might mean death to him.
"'And now,' I said, 'you'd better turn in and have a snooze. I'm a bit sleepy myself.'
"With that he got up and shambled off to bed. The next morning he was in a high fever, and it was some time before he was right again. At length he said he was once more fit 'to fight his weight in wild cats.' He wasn't by any means that: he was still weak, and not able to face any great hardship; but enforced idleness was sending the man mad, and I thought we'd better make a start. I did not mean to go in for any particular roughing it. It was only subsequently that I learned what sort of music an orchid-hunter has to face."
Burgess stopped for a moment, and pointed his finger at the Boy, who lay flat on his back, sound asleep, with his lower jaw open.
"If you're feeling like that, I'll reel up."
"Go ahead," said the skipper: "if you've done nothing else you've quieted that young limb for the present, and we owe you a vote of thanks for that."
"Go on, Burgess," said Sladen: "you've burnt your ships now, and can't go back."
The man laughed-a pleasant, low laugh, that was good to hear.
"Very well-I'll go on. I totted up my savings, and found I could fairly risk the venture. We made arrangements to go to Henzada first, and the passage was done in a big rice boat: there was no flotilla company in those days. We simply crawled to our destination, and I was pretty sick of the journey. It nearly drove Stevens mad, however; he fretted and fumed until I almost thought he'd be ill again. Whenever we could stop, we did; and I collected as many orchids as I could. Heavens! the rubbish I picked up in those days! Stevens did nothing but swear at the serang and pore over the notes in his pocket-book. He got into a way of repeating the notes in his book aloud. 'Third turnin' to the right, first to the left, three big jack trees, and then the passage.' He was learning his notes by heart, he said, in case anything happened.
