The Delilah of the Moment

New Zealand Times, Volume L, Issue 11423, 20 January 1923, Page 12

The Delilah of the Moment

By

JOHN HASLETTE VAHEY

Author of “Johnny Madison*'* “The Man Who Pulled the Strings/* etc. Chapter 11,

I. Bel lard awoke to the consciousness of a burning sensation on his tongue, his palate, his throat; to the feeling that he was held up by the arms. His legs felt dead; his chest constricted painfully. He heard voicee murmur, nig. without sense, its if they had spoken in a foreign language. ‘ Chuck him in again,” 6aid someone; “he's through. ’ "No,” said a second voice; “I can’t. He'll have his chance.”

“Chance? Another fool to quarrel with ! l)amn it, man! he’ll be better dead than here.” “I don’t care,” said the first voicS',’ pettishly. “He mayn’t care f-sr her. Vou can scrag him yourself if he heads that way.” There were two men, and they had dragged Bellard out of the boat, and were administering first aid to him on the outer reef of an atoll-island. The man who had spoken first was tall and weedy, not ill-looking, but .with a weak mouth and pale-blue eyes. Tliy ether man, who had interceded for Bellard, was dark-ljjsired, dark-eyed, of a Celtic type, better built than the other, with a face that was keen, vital, expressive. Within the ring of the reef was a lagoon, and in the lagoon an islet, well wooded, green, a smiling oasis Jn the middle of the waters, a place < f sweet seclusion bordered by its coral harrier, with the fringe of palms, washed by the translucent waters oi the miniature sea. A faint plume of smoke rose from the islet, and streamed lazily up towards the blue uncloudThe men lifted Bellard, crossed the reef, and laid him in a dinghy which floated on the edge of the lagoon. They climbed in after him, and one of them took the sculls and began to paddle. The 6tupor descended again on Bellard. The men landed on the islet, and carried him ashore. It was an irregularly shaped piece of land, in form something like a rough triangle, about one mile long, and almost, three-quarters of a mile in the broadest part. Groves of plantains, of breadfruit, and a certain amount of bush hid from the sea three buildings built almost in the middle of the islet. One was a house, built, like Bellard’s, with blocks of coral. The other buildings had obviously been godowns. A big brass hammock was slung on the verandah of the house, and in it a woman reclined.

She appeared to be asleep. The two men, Grain, who was tall and weedy, and Hughes, -his companion, emerged from the screen of trees and turned their heads towards her curiously. They moved very softly, as if afraid of waking her, and carried Ballard into the farther godown, where they laid him on a heap of cotton doth.

The woman in the hammock yawned Blightly, stretching out her arms. Dressed in a graceful frock of thin tussore silk, which outlined her slender shape, was a mass of burnished golden hair, a pretty oval face, warmly coloured, with eyes of extraordinary depth and fineness, that now gazed languidly about her, she made a striking picture. That she was beautiful admitted of no doubt; but it was not an ordinary beauty of form and line; it was as well a beauty of intelligence and expression, a vivid and vital thing which is all too rare. As the men took Bellard into the godown she listened to their tiptoeing footsteps, and a smile curved her red mouth, a smile which was slightly oruel, slightly amused, which definitely stale from her face those soft traces that had come with sleep. Marianne Coelho was the child of a mixed marriage, the father a Portuguese, the mother a native of Tahiti. Her mother had been a beautiful woman, her father a little monkey of a man, small, very dark, simian in face and gesture, but with some fascination about him for women that Was unexplicable but undoubted. The mother had died on the islet, and old Coelho had suddenly fallen into a state of senile decay, bordering on lunacy, so that be ceased to think of trading, and had begun to believe that he was King, of the Pacific. It is a serious thing to have a rifle and delusions at the same time. Dbelho had commanded the few na lives who lived on the islet to do things which no idle, self-respecting native will do. He shot eight out of hand, and the rest, terrified by the crazy old man, fled To the sea He himself died a year later, solemnly drowning himself in the lagoon after he had made himself a crown of pearl •hell, and donned it with every ceremony. Marianne, who had been compelled to kneel down and do him homage, watched him go down to the beach without regret. It was impossible for a woman like Alarianne to think of a monkey-like old man who was mad, and murdered people on occasion, as of a father. She nad often shaken out her mane of golden hair, and laughed when she looked at he» father’s black, curled locks. It only occurred to her after ho was gone that life alone on the islet might be inconvenient and laborious. The na tives of neighbouring islands had da cided that Coelho was devil-haunted. They never came near tbo place. The tropics furnished easy food, but unvaried, unless one can cook. .Marianne grew tired of raw plaintam breadfruit, and yam. She hated cooking; she was lazy as only a Tahitian can be; but she was a healthy young woman, with an excellent appetite, and she would soon have given her soul for a servant. One thing kept her from descending to the level of the natives—her ob vioua beauty. She was inordinately vain. Her father had ordered clothes from Sydney two years before i his death. They were such as any colonial lady might wear, and Marianne took as much trouble in her dressing each day aa if she had received an in vitation to a garden party with the Governor-General. 11. Hughes and Grain had come to tho islet together in a pearling lugger with a small crew of Kanakas. Marianne welcomed them, and they were delighted and amazed at the eight of this beanty flowering alone on an atollisland, deserted save for herself. Sne invited them to her house. The lugger was anchored in the lagoon. .Within a week tho fast friends were enemies, and both were mad with love fascinating and wonderful woman whose guests they were. They forgot their pearling, forgot everything but the smiles of Marianne. For days they never went near their boat, but enjoyed a continuous and glorified picnic. Their Kngakas had an inspiration. The white fellows Weic under a spell cast by this cunning White-Mary. They were blind and fleaf. Let them stay there for ever.

One morning they woke up to find the lugger gone. They swore idly for a little; then put it from their minds. They had brought their small stock of pearls ashore. They now gave them to Marianne. She accepted them with joy, but she was rather more pleased with Hughes’s offering, which included a pearl of the best pink colour. The next day, at risk of her life, she separated the two men, who were struggling to gain possession of a revolver. They parted apparent friends, hut the enmity was only hidden. She saw

it, stole their weapons while they lay asleep, and threw them into the lagoon. She had her father’s rifle, which 'she hid in the grove, and a small automatic with mother-o’-pearl butt, given her once by the skipper of a trading schooner. This she carried hidden in her corsage. It was not her intention to allow these two men to kill one another. They should be servants while their madness lasted, fetch and carry for her, amuse her in her lighter hours. It would be entertaining, too, to 6ee the moral struggle between them over the prize that she herself represented. Each should be in turn her protector and her disappointed lover. She would play them off against each other. Their worship, ministered to her vanity, their love-making to the sensuous streak in her, an inheritance from her Tahitian mother.

“But you must he good,” she said to them, smiling. “I have not made up my mind yet. When I do you shall know. Love is a great thing, as everyone knows, and a woman has to protect herself.” “Against whom, Marianne?” Hughes had asked, while Grain stood by, his eyes fixed with bitterness upon his former friend. “Against? herself, foolish one!” said Marianne, looking at him through her long curved lashes. 111. So matters stood when Bellard was brought ashore. Marianne lived in the coral house; the two men slept each in a separate godown, and at night each barricaded his door. By day they worked for their fickle mistress, they waited upon her with the dumb devotion of spaniels, and so far she had not cast down the glove. Her sharp ears now told her that th*. two men were walking together. This was unusual when they were not with her. She got up from the hammock, and went stealthily, with wonderful grace in her swift, gliding movements, towards the farther godown. She heard voices, and peeped in. She saw the two men bending over a body that lay in a corner. “What is this?”"she demanded in her silkiest voice, and took a step inwards. “Is it something dead?” They started and turned. Hughes, who was always the quicker with his tongue, explained, “A man we found driven ashore on the reef; that’s what it is. He’s still alive.”

Alarianne advanced swiftly. Both men watched her like hawks, their jealous brains busy with questions, their _ minds full of suspicions. They saw her bend and look into Bellard’s face, her eyes appraising, searching. Then with extraordinary rapidity she turned on them, before they could wipe from their faces the expressions of fear and anger mingled with dbubt. “He does not look handsome at the moment,” she said slowly, and saw how their faces brightened. “Well, I suppose we must keep him here until he is well, and then let him go.” “I said so,” observed Hughes. “Grain wanted to chuck him in.” “Perhaps he was right,” said Alarianne softly. “However, he is here. See to himi, both of you. The sooner he is well, the eooner he can go.” Grain laughed. “We’ll make him well quick enough,” he said. Marianne smiled, shrugged, and tripping daintily from the godown, went back to her hammock. When she had first seen the prostrate man she had thought instinctively of nursing him. But his face was haggard with -hunger,- burned almost black by the sun ; his hair was matted, his face unshaven. Slhe did not want to touch him. Indeed, as she had half-hinted to the two men, she had thought it almost a pity that they had taken him from the boat and brought him here. There was no soul in the woman, only vanity, a love of admiration, an insatiable desire to see men at her feet, an indomitable idleness which forbade her to work when she had others to work for her.

The two men, utterly devoured by their passion for her, were not disillusioned or disappointed at her show of oruel callousness. To them ehe was a goddess. If they had any thought, it was one of relief that a possible rival had been dismissed with contempt. All that-was sound and sweet in them had been gradually submerged and lost in their mad hut hidden struggle for this beautiful and undeserving woman. Love had not brought the ideal to them, hut, like the crop of dragons’ teeth Bown in the classic story, it had sprung up in armed thoughts, in rancorous jealousy. Bellard owed his recovery not so .much to their compassion as to their desire to set him on hi 3 feet and get rid of him as soon as possible. Alarianne did not come near Bellard again. He recovered gradually, his strength coming back, unaccompanied, however, by an equal growth in his mental powers. His brain seemed weighed down by some incubus. He was aware that he was alive, but he was only dimly aware who he was, from where he had come. Hughes and Grain kept him away from the house when he was able to get out. They roused him early in the morning, and made him walk on tho beach. Most of the day he was shut up (in the godown. He accepted all these things with silent, or stupid, resignation. He spoke little to them, did not appear either grateful or the reverse, just neutral. He vegetated rather than lived, but daily he felt stronger; and at last there came to him an irrelevant but urgent desire to shave. Grain had left a razor in the godown. Bellard felt his rough face, and frowned at the growth of beard. He took the razor. He had no soap, just some water. It was a painiul operation, but he kept on determinedly, and found himself presently with a shaven but smarting face. He strefehed out his arms. He had always been a strong man, but his muscles felt flaccid now. He began to exercise, staring straight before him with that pondering absent look wbioh had come to be his constant expression. Grain noticed the shaven appearance of tho man, and was angry.

“What have you done with my razor, you fool ?’ ’ lie cried. Bellard had hidden it. He stared in Grain’s race, hut did nat reply. Grain advanced on lum passionately. “Give it me at once!” He raised Ins hand. Bellard put out a long arm and pushed him violently. rie fell like a crumplod-up jack-knife, and rose, swearing but suodued “You’ll have to clear out of this 1 ’ ’

“When you like,” said Bellard without emotion. Grain went away to tell Hughes. “The fellow isn’t half had looking now.” he complained. “We must get him away before she sees him.” “To-morrow,” said Hughes, frowning, “I’ll make his boat ready’. I was a fool, but that’s soon remedied.” IV. They came to him quioily at five tho next morning, and guided him down to the beacn of the lagoon. Th© quarter boat was there. They had piled provisions in tho how, and there was a beaker of water. Hughes had routed among the stores in his godown and found a spar and a sprit-saii. He had rigged the boat with these, caulked one or two open seams, and 6eemed proud of his work. Bellard walked between them, his head in the air. tie could never remembeV who he was for very long together, and he was trying to puzzle it out. ( Lp at th e house Alarianne was already stirring. In her idle way she had been watching Hughes and Grain the last day or two. She suspected something from their unusual association. What were they up to ? The day before, through a pair of fieldglaases, she iljaid seen them something down at the lagoon; she had seen Grain slip down through the trees, carrying a spar. Curiosity spurred her to an unusual display oi energy. Bellard got into the boat. Grain and Hughes, for once united in an effort, prepared to push her off. It was at this moment that they saw Bellard look oyer their heads,, instead of taking his seat ou the thwart. Grain’s mouth fell open. He jdrew a deep breathy and cursed softly. Hughes turned, to see Alarianne coming quickly down to them. “Push, you fool!” he cried to his companion. “Shove her —off—quick !” Bellard remained standing, looking with surprise at the beautiful woman who advanced at a little run. Grain gave a half-hearted shove to the boat; Hughes, his back obstinately turned on Alarianne. was driving with all his might-.

“Stop I” cried Marianne, coining up breathless, panting, the colour nigh in her cheeks. “What are you doing?’ Her eyes met Bellard’s, and she smiled. • Washed, shaven, more like the man he had been, she saw in him a very different being from the hag gard, bearded breature fate had tossed up on the reef. Ho towered above Hughes, and was a full inch taller than Grain, with an air of distinction that both lacked., witb them he looked handsome, debonair. She continued to smile silently, and Bellard returned her gaze with interest, not unmixed with admiration. “You said he was to go,” Grain observed just above his breath. “I’ve changed my mind,” she said, her eyes Btill on tho tall liguro in in© boat. Hughes dropped his hands, hunched his shouldeis almost up to his ears, and left them. Ho strode back up the beach, and disappeared in the grove. ■

“You know you did!” said Grain aggrievedly, “Won’t you come ashore?” said ehe, ignoring him and addressing Bellafd. “I didn’t know you were bet ter. They never told me. ’ ’ Grain, went ✓ off. Bellard wrinkled his urevs as if puzzled, then came to laud. He paused before her, looked into her fine eyes. “I didn’t know,” he said—“l didn’t know there was—any one on the island except—those!” He pointed up towards the grove. “You were mistaken, you see,” said Marianne coquettisbly. “I wonder you agreed to go. It would be dangerous. You might not have been picked up.- Who knows?” “I didn’t care,” said Bellard deliberately. “I seem to have lost myself. I had a station somewhere.” “Don’t you even know your name? Mine is Alarianne Coelho.’ ’ “Yes, I know my name. It’s Bellard. I’m confused, Alisa Coelho, that’s it. Yesterday I remembered what brought me here; hut to-day it’s gone.” “Never mind,” she said soothingly. “You are here, artd you must stay, for a little as my guest. You’re not fit to go alone to sea. I expect they knew that; hoped yon wouldn’t get far.” She laughed a little. “Pm glad I kept my eye upon them.” , ‘‘Those two men?” said Bellard. “But why ” “There are reasons,” she said. “But never mind that either. Won’t you come up with me, and have some breakfast? I am dying of ennui. You can leave when you have really recovered your strength.” Her voice was cooing, persuasive. Bellard was drawn to her. She seemed sympathetic; his eyes told him that her physical attractions would have outweighed even an unsympathetic attitude. It was true that he was not quite fit yet for exposure in an open boat, though he was many times’ better than when he was carried ashore. “Thank you,” he said simply; “I should like that. I shan’t burden you very long. I must get dn, you know when I feel really fit.” “Come, then,” said Alarianne, and slipped her hand under his arm with an innocent gesture. “My house • is just inside the grove.” V. The warmth of her arm in his excited him strangely. The whole thing Beemed like a dream. Who was she, this kind, fair woman; and who were the two men who had tried to hurry him away from the island? “You live here, then??’ he said. “All alone ”

In my house—yes. The two men live in the godowns. The tall one is Grain, and the other Hughes.” “Are they your servants ” She smiled enigmatically. “You shall see—but here we are at my house. Will you sit on the verandah and smoke while I see if breakfast is ready?” “Thank you—hut I am afraid I have no tobacco,” he said, mounting the stops of the verandah with her, ana sitting down with relief in a long cane chair. “I forgot,” she said, beamed upon him, and disappeared into the house, to return with a box of cigarettes. “Smoke, then, while I leave you for a few minutes.” He took a cigarette quickly. She lighted and held a match for him, and he inhaled greedily. He sat there for a while smoking and thinking. It was years since he had seen a pretty white woman. There had been one other woman in his life. Who was she? It seemed very long ago, an incident in a confused and misty past. The cigarette soothed him; he took another, and lit it from the first. He did not know that Marianne’s cooks were away in the sulks. Of late he had not thought of passing time. It did not seem to him long before Alarianne returned, though she had been away half an hour. Hughes had disappeared; hut she had found Grain, and brought

him hack with her. He was the more cunning of the two, the more subtle. He mart© a virtue of submission, to curry favour with the fickle Alarianne, while he hoped to work out some plan for ousting the newcomer. In so doing ho put Hughes in the wrong. He had two enemies now to combat, his former friend and Bellard. Plunged in despair, he assumed a face of careless good humour, a mask covering seething passions. Had he had the means and the possibility of escaping suspicion, he would have poisoned Bellard with all tho pleasure in the world. In his obsession he had lost sight of morals. But because he was a coward at heart he hesitated to revenge himself. “The poor chap has had a regular doing,” he told Alarianne. “Bless you l don’t mind cooking for him. Hughes, now, would refuse. Hughes doesn’t forget things. I wouldn’t trust Hughes *f he caught that fellow napping somewhere.”

Alarianne 6miled. “I don’t trust any one,” she said to herself, carelessly. “J.’U shoot anyone who interferes,’’ she added aloud. Grain grinned in a sickly way. “Who’s going to? Dash it all, Alarianne ! no man with an eye in his head could quarrel with you.” So Alarianne and Bellard breakfasted together. She talked to him gaily the while, exerting all her feminirfe arts to ensnare his heart, to awaken in him a fire which she could fan into a blaze. “You don’t know how lonely I’ve been,” she said, presently, taking a cigarette. “To he here with two jealous fools is worse than being alone. You’ve seen for yourself what kind of fellows they are. I don’t feel safe with them.” “Don’t you?” He could not take his eyey off her now. “Why, as to that, I am here now, and I can see that they don’t do you any harm.” “But how long?” she asked, sighing, and looking at him with her melting eyes. “You will go. I cannot try to keep you.” Bellard frowned. Go where ? It was quite true that he thought of going somewhere, but he was fogged again, and little doubts began to creep into his mind. Why not stay on here? “I feel myself 60 safe with you,” she went on. “Yes, absolutely safe. I trusted you the moment I saw you in the boat. We women know a man at once. We don’t reason; we know. How I wish you would stay!”

“No, no,” said Bellard, fidgeting, “I can’t do that. There is something I ought to do. But while/I’m here I’ll keep an eye on these fellows.” She volunteered presently to show him the islet, and took his arm as they set out. Again he was conscious of that strange feeling of emotion, but he said nothing. They strolled over the islet, and Alarianne extolled its advantages to him. “If only I had some na tive servants,” she said. “It is impos rible to do one’s own work in a climate like this.” “Who does it?” “Oh, look!” She directed his atten tion to a large bird that was soaring without a wing-beat above the tops of, the trees. “What would one give to fly like that, away from this place, away to some sanctuary where no one could come?” “She’s beautiful,” said Bellard to himself. “She’s an extraordinarily fine woman.” “But one can’t fly,” added Alarianne sorrowfully. “I bore you, my friend, with my imaginings. Let us return.” (To ,be continued.)