In Strange Company: A Story of Chili and the Southern Seas

Before I went, I endeavoured to thank him again for his generosity, but he would not let me. One thing was certain; the more I thought about his action the further I was from understanding it.

Reaching the township I rejoined Jameson, and counted out to him the price of the schooner, which he repeatedly informed me was "dirt cheap at the money." Then leaving him to drink himself into delirium tremens, I pushed on to the "Orient," that I might inform Juanita of my success. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and urged on by it, before bed-time I had not only secured my crew, but had arranged my stores, and accepted the services of a mate.

Next morning I crossed the island to bid the Albino farewell. My surprise may be imagined when I found him gone. Not a trace of his whereabouts could be discovered, and, considerably exercised in my mind regarding him, I returned to make my final preparations. Shortly after midday I escorted Juanita (who had said farewell to the "Orient," amid much lamentation) aboard, and at three o'clock the Mother of Pearl stood out of the bay, bound on the most curious errand she had ever weighed anchor to accomplish. Only then did I learn our destination.

Though she certainly did not realize all the good qualities her late owner had (since the sale) led me to suppose she possessed, the schooner was a handy enough craft, and likely to serve the purpose for which we required her, every bit as well as one costing ten thousand pounds could have done. The best description of her would be to say that she was just a steady-going, serviceable old tub; and as I was not likely, with Juanita on board, to be in too much of a hurry to complete the voyage, that was all we wanted.

The mate proved a decent sort of young fellow. The crew were Kanakas, with a Chinaman cook, who also officiated as steward.

And now comes a portion of my yarn that I am tempted to dwell upon. How can I describe the beauties of that summer voyage? How resist the temptation it offers of indulging in extravagant waste of language? As I sit here recalling it, a strange longing rises in my heart that will not be suppressed; a longing that is not without a touch of sadness and regret. It is impossible, I have to tell myself, that I can expect to cross an old trail without some mixture of pain. Can I, in this fog-ridden England, hope to be allowed to stir up recollections of enchanting islands lifting their green heads from bright blue seas, of umber cliffs peering out of clustering foliage, of azure skies, and trade winds redolent of sweet perfumes, and yet expect to escape scot free?

The only thing regrettable about the voyage was its brevity. Is it therefore to be wondered at that, madly infatuated as I was with the woman who accompanied me, I viewed the prospect of calms with equanimity, and was loth to employ any exertions that would help to hurry it or get it over?

But every moment was bringing us nearer our destination; and at last, one sunset, I was able to tell Juanita, that in all probability another twenty-four hours would find us abreast of the island which contained her husband's grave.

As it turned out, my prophecy proved a correct one, for towards five o'clock on the following afternoon, the high peaks of Vanua Lava appeared above the horizon. By tea-time the schooner had brought the island abeam, and before darkness fell we were anchored off a thickly-wooded promontory, to the right of which Juanita declared her former lord and master lay buried.

CHAPTER V

A CURIOUS QUEST

Apart from the fact that it was being undertaken solely for the purpose of digging up and rifling a dead man's body, there was something peculiarly uncanny to me about this voyage to Vanua Lava. And the more I allowed my mind to dwell upon it, the more convinced I became that, somehow or other, what we found would materially affect my welfare. It may therefore be imagined with what interest I gazed across the intervening stretch of water at the thickly-timbered island, now disappearing into the fast-falling shadows. Juanita was wildly excited, and would have liked nothing better than to have gone ashore and commenced operations that very night. Indeed, I could not help thinking that the fortune her husband had hidden away must be even larger than she had led me to suppose, if I might estimate its size by her anxiety to obtain possession of the locket.

As soon as tea was over we returned on deck. It was a glorious night. Overhead, in a coal-black sky, the great stars hung lustrous and wonderful. Below them all was silence. Not a sound save the subdued voices of the crew forward, and now and again a tiny wave, stirred by some gentle zephyr, breaking against the schooner's side, disturbed the stillness. Then, little by little, the eastern stars began to lose their brilliance. The sky at that end of the island relinquished some of its blackness, and presently, with a majesty untranslatable, the great moon rose into the heavens, casting a mellow light across the silent deep, and touching with silver the topmost trees ashore. With her coming a faint breeze stole down to meet us and set the schooner gently rocking.

When we had paced the deck together for a while Juanita drew me to the taffrail, and passing her arm through mine in a caressing manner peculiar to herself, fell to talking in a strain which I had never discovered in her before. The impression her conversation forced upon me was that she was trying to excuse herself for a great wrong she had already done or was about to do me, and yet nothing in her actual speech lent any reason to this supposition.

"To-morrow," she said, half to herself, "will decide a great deal for both of us."

"How for both of us, Juanita?" I asked. "If you find what you want over yonder you'll be a rich lady, and then 'good-bye' to poor Jack."

She started as if frightened, and pressed my arm tighter.

"You have been so good to me that I don't know what to say to you," she continued, disregarding my last speech. "Oh, Jack! if we could only be ourselves, free to act and to do whatsoever we wished, instead of being driven so relentlessly on and on by destiny, how much happier we should be! Do you believe in fate?"

"I believe you are my fate," I replied, pressing her hand with all the ardour of a lover, "and what better fate could I ask?"

"Or what worse?" she said sadly. "Jack, my poor Jack, you don't know how you will hate me some day."

"Never, Juanita, and that I'll swear to."

She was silent for a minute or two. When she spoke again there was a bitterness in her voice I had never heard in it before.

"If I had only known and loved you sooner," she went on, "I might have been a better woman. But I was cursed from the very beginning; cursed with a bad mother, cursed with a bad father, cursed with a beauty that was only a snare for sin; lured to my ruin before I was old enough to understand, driven by poverty and despair to be what I am – a woman at war with all the world. Oh, Jack, may the Holy Mother forbid that you may ever know what my life has been! But there, why should I tell you all this? let us be happy and believe in each other to-night, if only for to-night."

"My darling," I cried with real alarm, noticing that big tears were rolling down her cheeks, "what is the matter? Tell me, and let me comfort you. This monotonous voyage has tired you, to-morrow you will be better. Don't give way just at the time when you want all your nerve."

But my advice came too late; she threw herself into my arms and wept as if her heart would break. I could see that she was thoroughly upset, but what had occasioned it I could not of course understand. Since then, however, I have become wiser, and whenever I think of that night on the schooner's deck, under the shadow of the island, I say to myself, "Well, however she may have acted towards me afterwards, at least Juanita loved me then."

When she grew calmer she began again, this time with a sort of malignant fierceness that was equally inexplicable.

"My Jack, if I told you that I was a despicable coward and asked you to weigh anchor to-night and to leave the island without as much as going ashore, would you do it? Think before you answer, for heaven and hell depend upon it."

I suppose at some period of his life every man has his fate in his hand to do as he likes with. I had mine then, and, as will be seen, I threw it from me. Oh, if I had only taken the opportunity she offered and set sail without rifling that grave, what awful misery for both of us I should have averted! But, blind bat that I was, it was ordained that I should see everything in a wrong light, and so I began immediately to reproach her for her weakness, telling her that since she had come so far to do it, it would be worse than cowardice to return without carrying out her work.

"But, Jack," she said, "if you only knew, if you only knew?"

"If I knew what?" I asked. "Come, come, Juanita, what does all this mystery mean? What are you hinting at? You're in a very extraordinary mood to-night." I was beginning to grow impatient with her.

"Don't," she cried, preparing to burst into tears again, "don't scold me. If you could only know how we shall both look back on this night some day, and how it will comfort me to remember that at least you were not angry then!"

When she went below I lit my pipe and fell to work upon my own thoughts. I tried to recall her conversation and to find a reason for her extraordinary behaviour, but it was impossible. In vain also I endeavoured to rid myself of the feeling of approaching danger which possessed me. At last, unable to make head or tail of it, and thoroughly wretched, I sought my bunk in the hope of obtaining a little rest against the labours of the morrow.

My dreams were not pleasant ones. Juanita seemed to stand before me continually, gazing at me as she had done on deck, with tear-streaming face, imploring me to forgive her, always to forgive her. I don't remember ever to have spent a more miserable night. But it was only a foretaste of what was to come.

Shortly after daylight I awoke to hear the hands "washing down." I went on deck and had a bath; the clear green water braced me like a tonic. A more perfect morning could not be imagined. The sea lay around us, in colour a pale grey, and smooth as the inside of an oyster-shell. Ashore the rugged mountain peaks were enveloped in vast masses of white cloud, while on the lower lands every shrub and tree was gemmed with dew. A few sea-birds hovered round the schooner, and from far down the northern beach a spiral column of palest blue smoke ascended into the still morning air.

About half-an-hour before breakfast-time, Juanita came on deck, looking radiant; all signs of her last night's trouble had completely disappeared. Stepping out of the companion, she swept the sea with a proud, defiant glance, as though she had at length achieved something which other people had deemed impossible. Then her eyes fell on me, and she came across to where I stood, wishing me "good-morning" with a bright smile. I felt inclined to ask myself if this could be the same woman who had wept upon my shoulder the night before, and begged me in heart-broken accents to forgive her some imaginary transgression. After a few moments her glance wandered from the schooner and the open sea to the island, and then the expression upon her face (for I watched it continually) changed. When she came on deck, it was that of a woman who through much suffering had conquered; but when she looked towards the spot where the man she had once loved lay buried, it was the face of one who had still to prove that the struggle was not going against her. Just at that moment the bell sounded for breakfast, and leaving the deck to the mate, I escorted her below.

As soon as we had finished our meal, I gave orders for the long-boat to be swung out, and a crowbar and a couple of shovels put into her. I had already chosen the hands who should accompany us, so nothing remained but to assist my sweetheart down the gangway, take our places in the boat, and set out for the shore. It was no use trying to persuade Juanita to remain on board, and let me do the work. She would not hear of it. On the way I could not help noticing the appearance of her face; it had become deadly white and haggard, a circumstance which I could only attribute to the ghastly nature of our errand.

Owing to the fact of there being no reef on this side of the island, we were able to bring the boat flush up to the shore, and to secure her by a long painter to a tree.

As I helped Juanita out, I asked her in which direction she supposed the grave to lie, and without any hesitation she pointed to a little wooded knoll, about a hundred yards to our left. Off we set towards it.

By this time the pallor of her face was such as to quite frighten me. I asked her if she did not think she'd better sit down and rest a while. Her answer, if not assuring, was emphatic.

"Rest! What rest can I have? No, no, no; on, on! I can't rest; I can't think till we've done the work. Oh, be quick! be quick!"

Reaching the spot she had pointed out, we commenced our search for the grave. Though she declared her husband had only been buried a few months, no sign of his resting-place was to be seen. This I accounted for by the fact that it was situated on a slope, and the wash of the water (for the rains had occurred since the burial took place) had smoothed the earth all along the hill-side, levelling and obliterating all traces of the mound. However, after much diligent search, I found amid some rank grass a spot which seemed to bear some resemblance to what we sought, and here I decided to dig.

The ground was by no means hard, and as the two men I had brought ashore were muscular fellows, it was not long before we had a good hole to show for our work. Suddenly the shovel struck something with a hollow sound, bringing my heart into my mouth with a jump. Next moment a corner of a roughly-made coffin came into view. And as it did so, Juanita gave a little cry, while I felt large clammy beads of sweat ooze out and down my own forehead.

Bidding the two men exert all their strength, I worked the crowbar underneath the coffin, and leant my weight upon it. Inch by inch it uncovered itself, and at last we were able, by getting our hands under it, to lift it out on to the level ground. As we laid it down, I heard Juanita gasp for breath. And when I told her we were going to prize the lid off, she could bear it no longer, but turned her back, and burying her face in her hands, bade me search round the dead man's neck for the locket. She could not do it herself.

Inserting a corner of the shovel between the lid and the side, I tried to force it open, but it was securely fastened, and defied me. There was nothing for it but to send off to the schooner for a screwdriver. How bitterly I reproached myself for not having brought one with me!

The waiting was intolerable. Though it was in reality not ten minutes, it seemed an hour before the man returned with the tool. Then, one by one, my hands shaking with nervousness, I withdrew the screws. That work accomplished, I ordered one of the Kanakas to lift off the lid. As he prepared to do so, I could not repress a feeling of wonderment as to what this former lover of Juanita's would be like; at the same time, I braced my nerves for what we should see.

The lid was off. I looked; I rubbed my eyes and looked again – could I be dreaming?

Save for a large roll of sheet-lead, the coffin was empty. No man had ever been buried in it!

The whole funeral must have been a farce, intended to deceive some one. Could that some one, I asked myself, have been Juanita?

My exclamations must have puzzled her, for she cried out —

"Oh, what have you found?"