The Delilah of the Moment

New Zealand Times, Volume L, Issue 11435, 3 February 1923, Page 12

The Delilah of the Moment

By

JOHN HASLETTE VAHEY

Author of “Johnny Msdison,” "The Man Who Pulled tho Strings,” etc.

Chapter IV

i'll, early morning sun, turning nil ;ho ousu rn’ luuvcns iiilurru-y gold, and , lUlu ,, all the «a aflame witn colour, showo3 the boat on me Up ol the lanoon. and Grain sitting m her, hu cvi's rial with laok ot strep, his taco haggard with ieae, with strained wale,ling. He was at raid to sleep, afraid to commit hinuolt to the hard ohances 01 tho ocean, hut even mote afraid to face the infuriated Hughes. Still, no one came to the deserted white spaces of the beat'll. No one moved. He thought ot the vigil that lay before him. Inlallibly he wotnd fall asleep sooner or later. Avlint then ? . 1 eye, searching the grove, turned to the barrier reef and swept it, and went on blankly to survey tlie sinning bluo sea. His eye suddenly paused 111 its sweeping glanoe. He started, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. A whaleboat was approaching the outer reef, under what looked like an improvised sail. He could see her for a moment before ‘he scarp of the reef hid her from view, exoept for the top of her mast, and he saw that two men were in her—white men or coloured men he could not say. A hope leaped up in his heart. Ho was done with .Marianne. Hughes would certainly kill him if he caught him; Bollard was a tremendously dangerous man. Eien the passion for tho beautiful woman up there in the house could m> longer drive to face the perils of his life on the island. His nerve was gone. It would be better to escape while lie had the chance. He pushed off at once, using an oar at the stern, as likely to make less noise. He went on across- the lagoon towards tho break in the reef, and only ceased sculling when the boat began to heave to the swell between the heads. As he looked out through the break he could see the whaleboat nose round and come quickly into view. Ihe men in her were white. One of them, who was steering, had his left arm in a sling; the other sat forward, ready to con the boat through the passage." The muttering thunder of tho swell on the barrier reef would cover the sound of his voice, and ho called to the men, waving his hand at the same time. ‘To your right when you come through. Chuck us a rope.” The whaleboat shot through tho break, and, carrying way on her, swung round to the right into the lagoon. Grain sculled desperately after her, caught the rope one of the men threw to him as their boat slowed, and drew up alongside; pulling hand over hand. As ho pulled in, his face was turned towards the grove, tho beaches of the islet. No one stirred there yet. ‘‘What d’ye want?” asked one of the big men. “What are you after, anyway?” . “A passage off,” said Grain, looking from on© to the other. “I’ve been stuck here for ages. It’s a hole. Til pay vou if you take me to any of the wlanas that are inhabited.” “Why, the boob’s a capitalist!” said the man who had first spoken. “Well, bud, we’ll think it over. But we’-e had our bellyful of sea for the mo. ment. Got "caught in the tail of a buster, and bin disentangling ourselves ever since. Yes, sir, we land here to refit, to refresh ourselves with Borne of Nature's fruits, sure. Give us a week to work the salt out of our systems, and we’ll talk again, but nix on tho navigation this morning.” The other man had been watching Grain thoughtfully. “Are you alone here?” 110 asked slowly. “Yes,” said Grain, whose only hope was to get away before Hughes could come. “But look here, I must get away at once. I’ll pay you sixtypounds if you'll take me off now. The second man laughed. “Then who owns the dinghy I see, eh? And that quarter-boat you’re in? —Bailey, do you observe that we have seen something like this quarter-boat before—that it is wonderfully like the one we saw a little while ago—earae name on it, too?” The man with - his arm in a sling surned and looked. “Sure thing. Now, isn’t this what you call propitious, and os thinking old Davy had tho fellow under lock and key below ?” He turned and frowned portentously at the puzzled Grain. “You long slab of lie*l” he said, fiercely, “what do you mean by trying to josh us? What’s your little game? Alone, are you? I think not. I sabe your little wheeze, my son.’’ “What do you mean?” Grain gasped. “That’s what I’m asking you.—Hopstone, this guy is trying to run the rule over us. I’ll bet the other fellow is lying doggo somewhere ashore, watching" for us with his rifle.” Grain rubbed his chin. “What fellow? I don’t understand.”

Bailey reached suddenly over, caught him by the collar, and dragged him into the whaleboat. “Why, the fellow that owns the quarter-boat,” he said. “The fellow you’re in with ashore. I’ve a good mind to make sharks’ pap of you, you lop-eared four-flusher!” Grain struggled up on to a thwart. These men knew Bellard. It must he so. They knew him. and had some feud against him. Surely Bellard had been delivered into his hands. He gripped Bailey by the sleeve, and stammered oat a hurried description of Bellard. “Is that him, the dog? If it is, he’s here. He kicked me last night, the brute. lie’s lorded it over us ever since wo took him out of his blasted boat.”

The two men exchanged glances. Hopstone spoke. “80 Bollard’s his name, is it? But he didn’t strike us as a very pugnacious gentleman, did he, Bailey? What did you two want to fight about, anyway ?” Grain, his face distorted with rage, poured out a torrent of complaints; told them of Marianne, of Hughes, of Bellard’s arrogant monopolisation of the woman’s society. “If you’ll help me out him, I’ll give you all I have,” he ended. “Help mo to get her, and I’ll see you homo. There’s hundreds of pounds’ worth of trade up there going to rot. Bellard and Hughes haven’t got guns. It’s a cinoh if you’ll throw in with me.” Again the two men exchanged a look. It was full of amusement, of contempt for the blustering traitor, and of a determination to servo themselves at this table spread providentially for them. “That’s all right,” said Bailey; “we don’t want any pay. We’ll do" it for tho love of the' thing. This old son-of-a-gbn and me make a business of-resell-ing distressed maidens, and seeing justice done in the land. We’ll buckle up Bellard, get tho yellow lady for you, and set up in trade, won’t we, Hopstone?”

“Certainly,” said Hopstone. “But now we want to settle how it's to be done my friend. If your friends live on

the island, they don’t seem to be stirring. What about landing now, rushing the place, and getting done with it? With our guns we can mop the two beggars up in no time.” ■‘No,’’ said Grain. “They might hear us coming across the lagoon, I hey may see us now. Tf they haven't, I can pilot you round the lagoon to a bit of the island where there’s a sort «f little cliff, and you could lie up there out of sight, and leave it till dark.” "Get busy, then,” said Bailey. “Go forward. There’s enough breeze to take us. But if you try any signalling inshore, or any other hanky-panky, I'll blow your head off.” H. It seemed as if Grain’s advice was good. No sign of life showed front the Islet; no one walked in the grove, so far as they could see; and there was no smoke to indicate preparations for breakfast. Grain told them that Hughes had probably staggered into one of the godowns, and was sleeping off his aches and pains. Bellard, too, was probably asleep still; while Marianne was inveterately opposed to early rising. The whale-boat sailed slowly along, until she was brought up and anchored under the shelter of the little cliff. They unstepped the mast, and, making Grain 6it down between them, they lighted pipes and discussed their plans. It was decided that the attack must be made after dark, about midnight, when everyone was asleep. To Hopstone and Bailey It seemed an even easier job than the robbing of Bellard. Hopstone stared presently at Grain, and made a laughing remark. “What sort of woman is this to make you two ducks first fight over her, and then want to scrap with Bellard? Aren’t there plenty of islands, and plenty of pretty Kanakas on them, that you stick here and squabble like a lot of tomcats?”

Grain smiled sourly. “You haven’t seen her. She isn’t a Kanaka. Her mother was a Tahitian, and her father a Portuguese.” “Oh, cut it out,” said Bailey. “I’ll bet she has a face like a mustardplaster, only you boobs are so blinded by love’s young dream that you don’t know wash-leather from roses and cream.” “She’s beautiful!” cried Grain, hotly. “She’d beat any of your. -New York' belles to a frazzle. There isn’t a woman like her from here to Ireland.” Hopstone smiled at Bailey. Bailey smiled at him. Grain caught this interchange of amused glances, and suddenly the blood in him ran cold. He studied their faces, looking from one to the other. Both were hard, Bailey’s the more repellant, but Hopstone’a cruelly cynical and ruthless. Of all the men he had ever seen they looked least like descendants of Don Quixote. But it -was too late to draw back now. He must trust again to his cunning, try to play one oil against the other, as he had tried to play off Bellard against Hughes. They read him like a book. Hopstone murmured, “I am pleased .to hear it, for your sake—Mr Bailey and I have long turned misogynist. If I’d been 1 Paris, I’d have pinched the apple and given the goddesses a miss. Well, smoke up, son, and dream about her. Mum’s the word if we are going to pull this off.” “That’s right,” said Grain, somewhat relieved. • “Marianne is my share. You can haffe the trade, and anything else that’s up above.” “Thank you,” said Hopstone, with feigned gratitude. “While you’re -with us you can have a share of the hoddle if you like!” 111. That morning Bellard came moodily to breakfast. To his surprise, Hughes was there. Hughes had cooked the meal. He sat near Marianne on the verandah. There was a great bruise on his chin where Bellard had struck him, but the fire in his eyes was. unsubdued. He did not scowl at Bellard, nor did he speak. Ho watched him talking to Marianne a 6 he ate, with the eye of a boxer who looks for an opening in his opponent’s guard. Marianne seemed to have forgotten the events of the night before. If she had not forgiven Bellard, at least she showed no signs of it. Bellard, on the oilier hand, said little. He was more absent than ever. “Where’s Grain?” he asked suddenly of Hughes, interrupting a remark of Marianne’s ceremony. • “I don’t know,” said Hughes. “You ought to hare killed him.” “f shall kill you both some day if you’re not careful;”

_ Bedard spoke as indifferently as if he were asking for another helping of fish. Marianne looked from one to the other. “Have you been quarrelling again?” she asked. Bellard laughed stridently. “Quar-relling-—with -those two! Why, they can’t even work together. They make me laugh. One can’t hate things like that.” “What’s the matter with you this morning?” Marianne asked him in a whisper. “You aren’t displeased with me, are youP”

“With you? What about? I’m'your guest; that’s all there is to it. You haven’t got any claim on me, have you?” Her face changed colour. She understood him to-day loss than ever. Hearing Hughes chuckle sardonically, she bit her lip, and an angry light came into her eye*. yon forgotten w-hat you said to me last night?” she whispered again.. “I shall never forget it.” “Last nightP” he said, indifferently. “I never remember what I said last night. One is always a damn fool at night, if it comes to that.” He rose, shrugged, took- a cigarette from her box, lighted it, - and wont away. Hughes drew his chair closer. “I told you so,’’ ho said eagerly. “He doesn’t think any more of yon than he does of us. He’s making a fool of you, taking your kisses, and thinking of another woman.”

Her face flamed; her eyes flashed furiously. “You lie, you‘little beast! There isn’t any other woman for'him. He told me so last night. You’re both jealous of him. You hate him. You don’t care what you say if you can damage him with me.” She felt in her dress, took out tho little mother-o’-pcarl automatic, and showed her white teeth. “He’s not safe while you’re here. I believe you tell lies about mo to him behind my back. It can’t he anything else.” , Hughes’s smile was cold hut faintly triumphant. He felt in his pocket, and took from it a photograph, which 110 placed face down on his knee. “He’s trying to think of her,” he said, in a

quiet voice. “I’ve been watching him. He’s crazy, or near it, and that’s the truth. 1 couldn't make him out at lirst—not till last night. I’ve been thinking over it while you were sleeping. Something that happened to him on that boat lips affected his brain. Malt his time lie’s trying to remember who he is, trying to think of the woman ho loved. In his crazy times he makes love to you, an,'! then he gets a kind of glimpse of his former life. He gets up and leaves you. He can’t make out what you’re getting at when you make eyes at him. Oh, I’ve doped it out all right.” “Crazy or not crazy, I don’t care,” she said, slipping the automatic back into hiding. “I can keep him in spite of you.” “You can’t!” said Hughes, and his voice mocked her. “He’s coming to himself. Already he remembers more. It’s wearing off. You can’t hold him, and you can’t keep him. His brain's clearing.’’ ’1 ears of rage and jealousy came into her eyes. “What have you got. there? Is it her photograph? Where ” “I found it in the godown,” said Hughes, and handed it to her. “His wife or his sweetheart. I don’t know.” She took it, a hand pressed to her heart, her lips white, her eyes glazed. S'he looked at it steadily for a few minutes, then tore it across and across, and threw the pieces from her. “You fool! You shan’t show it to him now. Go away before I kill you!” Hughes rose, bowed mockingly, and went down the steps. She got up and went into the house, came \i L wearing a aide sun-hat, and, like a wbman who is blind, she went falteringly along tho grove, and away towards the sea. Bellaid had gone down to the lagoon, and sat staring across the barrier reef. Hughes came back to the verandah, and helping himself to cigarettes, sat thinking and smoking. The woman left the grove and passed straight across the islet, to sit down presently on the verge of the coral. She seemed stupefied and inert, but occasionally she shivered as at some intolerably melancholy thought. IV. She was still there when tho afternoon came., t Her face had lost all its softnoss; hfr eyes were' fierce, brooding. She had been conscious during the last hour of a faint odour of tobacco coming to' her on the light breeze. To her lett was a little cliff. It seemed to come from there. Perhaps Bellard had chosen this lonely spot to avoid her, and was smoking, and planning to get away. She drew her little automatic, and, smiling bitterly, rose and went very softly, in that direction. She had often laugued to think herself old Coelho’s daughter, but there was something of the old man in her now. She attained the summit of the little cliff, leaned over, and looked down'. A boat lay below here, heaving gently on the water. Three men lay m her drowsily. One, Grain, was in the bows, his arm on the gunwale, hiG head resting on it. He appeared to sleep. The other men stirred. They sat up gently, and Marianne could see their eyes fastened on Grain. The coars-er-lookiag of them made an unmistababile gesture to his fellow. Hopstone nodded. In that moment they discovered to each other the utter uselessness of their new ally, and their determination to have done with him. Marianne, her mind working quickly, understood,. but was not shocked. She had always hated Grain, and now she saw that he was a traitor to them all. Let them do what they would with him. She sensed their purpose imxbbDotlvetv Thev wiege hiding, waiting for night. Whatever their purpose, they were enemies, who might be allies. Only Bellard must have his chance first. “Bellard’s number’s up!” said one, as she listened. “I’ll take it out of him for this arm of mine.” The other nodded. “As you please. Funny our running up against him again, though. I’m glad we didn’t stav_ on that atoll we struck before coming on here.” “Couldn’t, anyway,” said Bailey softly. “No water, my son. All the same, this beats the band. Unless this fellow’s lying, there’s more boodle for us up above.” Marianne went away silently and swiftly She did not know what had passed between Bellard and these men, but obviously they would do him an ill turn if they could. Confident in the power of her beauty, her charm, she felt able to deal with then. If Bellard were fooling her, let him take caro.

She ran lightly away once she had -withdrawn a little distance from the tiny cliff, and saw presently through an opening in the trees a glimpse of the beach. Bollard was standing there motionless. He seemed to be plunged in thought. Once, ns she drew nearer, he threw out his arms ! n , a Kesture of impatient anger, then let them drop to his sides. He stared at her with a frown when she came to him and spoke. “What do you said harshly. Her hands clasped hie arm. “I can t bear it,” she said passionately. Jrfist n'ght you 6aid you loved me. Have you given me up?” _ He shrugged, and looked puzzled. never said that. I don’t love you. What is the use of talking to me like that disturbing me when I try to dunk things out? When you came up I nearly nad it. I was thinking of tho boat I came here in. There was a storm before that —must have been. Hid you save me, oy did some one else ? No, it could not have been you. I remember I- was ill some time. You didn t' come near me. What do you want?” J I love you,” she said quickly. “I’m mad to tell you that, but 1 do tell you. 11l go with you anywhere; I’ll' he more to you than any other woman to? kill, those men for you. 1 11 stop at nothing,” she panted, her eves blazed. “But you must tell me that you love me—tell me now. You have only to sav the word —nosv. I n ’ l—l daren’t wait. Something C”' o ’ l tens you. Say you love me, and 111 save you. I am afraid of no one. I have a pistol. Nobody shall stop me —not two men or four.”

Something pathetic, even in her fury, penetrated Bellard’s logged brain. But, even as lie put his .hand gently on her arm, he shook his liond. “No, that’s impossible. If it would make you nappy I could tell lies; hut you don’t want lies—you want lovo, *nd I have nono to give.” Sho sprang away from him. “It’s that other woman! I know it.” His eves vliowed a trace of eagerness, of excitement. “Do you know about her? Tell 1110! Where is she? I lost her somehow, hut I know she is somewhere. How did you know I loved her? Come, you must toll me.” “Never!” said Marianne, her eyes sombre. Sho «hook from head to foot. “So, you’ve fooled me . . . Lies? YVhat lies have you not told me —last night, when you kissed me, when yon swore you would give up all the world for mo?” He stared. “I don’t remember.” Marianne gave him one fierce look, and turned away. He made as to follow her, then shrugged dejectedly, and sat down on tho sand. She passed on among the trees, and disappeared. Hughes was asleep in her hammock on the verandah. She wont qutcltlv towards the, other side of the island. It was hidden from the beach where

Bellard sat. The two men in the boat under the cliff heard a voice from above them, and looked up wonderingly at Marianne, who was looking down. “Great Scott!” said Hopstone. “Venus Aphrodite!” ’ ’ “Some woman!” growled Bailey under his breath, his eyes fascinated. Grain was not to he seen. No one ever saw him again, Futile even in hi-) treachery, he had paid the price of supping with the rlevil. Marianne spoke again. “You want Bollard?” she said softly. “I can give him to y-ou Arc you willing?” Bailey still gaped admiringly. Hop j stone replied smoothly, “If you want to get rid of him, we’re your men.” “Bring your boat a little hack,” said Marianne. “I’ll come to talk to yoti. But don’t do anything until night. He> strong as a bull, and there’s Hughes, too. To-night !” V. The ciiort twilight passed; the dark fell. Hughes cooked supper. Marianne had returned from the cliff, and reclined in her hammock. She was smiling and easy, as if nothing untoward had occurred that day. Bellard had come up from the beach. The curtain had fallen again over his inquiring thoughts. His brain, fatigued witjj ceaseless exploring in the past, was tired, and all hie old memories slept. “Grain has gone,” said Hughes suddenly. “He's taken both the boats. How he got clean awav with them I don’t know. He must have scooted last night.” “There was the sail on the quarterboat,” said Marianne. “I expect he towed the dinghy.” “Then we’re stuck here,” said Hughes. “What does it matter?” Hughes growled. “I’m not going to have Bellard sleeping in my godown any more. I’ve locked it up —both.” Bellard glanced at him. “1 don’t want 'to. I can sleep here, if I wish, any time.” Marianne’s eyes glittered. “Of course. I asked you to. before. 1 shall he happier if you do.” “I will.” said Bellard. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t. I’ll go in and see about making up a bed now.” He got up and disappeared inside. Hughes laughed. “I told you he was crazy. Better strike in with me, and leave him to it.” “Not if you were the last man in the world! I hate you! I hate him!” “Hato him?”

Marianne made no reply. She- listened to Bellard fossicking about inside the house, and her lips curled. The die was cast now. If she couid not have Bellard, no other woman should. She flogged her brain to madness with thoughts of that other woman, whose sweet face had looked up at her from the photograph she had destroyed. She utterly disbelieved Hughes’s theory. No, Bellard had flouted her, lied to her, made false love to her, while all the time his heart, hie mind, was busy with thoughts of this other woman. And now he was to sleep in the house. He was delivered into her hands. He _ had had his chance, and rejected it. Now it was her turn. VI. Bellard did not come out again. Hughes ,sat for a while, smoking; theu he too went, sho did not know where. Marianne remained in the dark for an hour, before she passed into the house, and paused outside the room Bellard had chosen. Sho c-ould hear him breathing evenly and slowly. She waited there for a few minutes, her eyes fixed in anguish, the perspiration standing out on her brow. Then she stiffened, turned about, and left the house. She went silently along the grove. Somewhere at its end she saw a match flicker and go out. Tho men. were there. She found them waiting under a tree in the star-lit night, and told them that Bellard was in lier house. “Delilah!” said Hopstone under his breath; then aloud, “Right. Well fix him. Show us the way.” They went back through the grove to the house. The two men had weapons in their hands. Marianne indicated the door, and they stole in. She preceded them down the dark passage. As Hopstone gently stepped over the threshold of Bollard's room something in Marianne’s brain seemed to snap. Her hand fumbled in her corsage. Almost simultaneously there was a noise as if some one had jumped softly into the loom through the Window-opening. Marianne did not hear it. She only knew that she had betrayed Bellard into the hands of men who were going! to kill him. Without a word she fired at Bailey’s hack. The thud of his fall was lost in the crash of the shot. Hopstone had gone inside the room. He saw a man’s figure occluding the window, and fired, then swung suddenly round towards the door, and stumbled across Bailey. He thought the figure in the doorway must he Hughes, who had shot his partner, and fired again point-blank. Then Bellard, springing up from the floor, got him. Hopstone felt hands about his throat;, he was lifted like a child and dashed to one side. His head struck the wall; his neck - was twisted under him as he fell. VII. Bellard leaped from the window and ran to the grove. He did not know what had happened. He only knew that shots had been fired, that some one had tried to kill him. Was it Hughes? He had fought his way out. He had silenced the beggar, whoever he was. What did it all mean ?

He sat under a tree until dawn. Then he rose and made his way back to the house. There was no one on the verandah. He called out for Marianne, but she did not come. At last he ventured indoors, and came out a minute later, his fact white, his whole hody trembling He had found Marianne lying dead near the door; Hughes near the window, shot through the heart. And lie had seen a vision—the vision of two men lie had known before. It all came hack to him; his homo on tlio island, liis six years of labour for Mary. Then the arrival of the two men, the robbery, his chase across the sea, the storm which had carried him here. It had all ended thus. He sat for a long time thinking, his brain clearer than it had been for manv days. Presently lie rose. Working throughout the day, with infinite labour be buried the dead out of eight, lie did not go back to the house again. He felt that he must get away from this accursed place. The boat must he somewhere. He would search until lie found it. Then he would go. He was not afraid of a storm; anything was better than to be immersed here, to breathe this atmosphere of tragedy and horror. ° He oame on the boats the next day. Tho quarter-boat was the easier to manage. He gathered provisions eagerly, filled two kegs with water, and placed them in the boat. He refitted her with a foresail from the whaleboat, and towards midday he pushed off, and rowed furiously across the lagoon to the break in the reef. Hero ho hoisted sail. The canvas filled to the breeze that stirred the heav* ing waters outside the barrier. He sailed on until it was near sundown. He had removed everything from the whaleboat except the oars and the mast, and now lie searched among the things when the quarterboat ran into a calm. He had sudden-

ly remembered that Hopstone and Bailey had taken his pearls, his money. Had they lost them, or were they conceivably among the articles lie had taken from the boat? A tarpaulin coat was the first thing he handled. It was bunched np, tied about with a piece of spun-yarn. When he opened it out he gave a cry of delight, of wonder. It was tied about a box containing his pearls, and tho wash-leather bag in which he had kept his money. Night fell, and day came again. The island had dropped below the horizon. Bellard sailed on. The sun glared upon him by day, and at night the chilling dew fell upon him. He had begun to think that he was sailing on an infinite, untenanted ocean, without hope or help. Despair grew again. He had escaped, only to find himself consigned to the ultimate torture of hunger and thirst.

A fortnight after he had left the island Bellard was picked up. by the tramp steamer Corunna. He was babbling then of Devonshire brooks, of a girl who called to him across a wide moor, of a woman who had lived on an enchanted island, and held him for a while in her spell. They took him into Valdivia, down with braid-fever. Everything was done for him there. The fever passed; he was weak, but his brain was clear. -He had forgotten Marianne, but he thought of Mary, who waited for him across the ocean, and they told him that in three weeks he could go back to England. A kindly resident took an interest in him. He valued the pearls for Bellard, and put him in the way of selling them. Three weeks later -eliard was on the sea again. He was taken to Sydney. At Sydney he caught the mail-steamer home, and here he cabled to Mary Burgin: “Coming home —at last.” fie lives “how with Mary on the moor to which his eyes had always turned. If he remembers those terrible days on the island, he never speaks of them, it appears to Mary that life in the ! Pacific among the islands is much like life at home, though under warmer The island has sunk beneath the horizon of memory, and with it the men -who fought for an unworthy woman, and the Delilah who had forgotten for a moment the one real love of her life.