Long Odds

by Harold Bindloss

  CHAPTER XVIII

  DOM CLEMENTE LOOKS ON

  A little breeze blew in between the slender pillars delightfully freshand cool, and Dom Clemente Figuera, who had taken off his heavy kepi,lay in a cane chair with a smile in his half-closed eyes. The teno'clock breakfast had just been cleared away, but two cups of bitterblack coffee still stood upon the table beside a bundle of cigars anda flask of light red wine. He was, as he now and then laughinglyadmitted, usually in an excellent humor after breakfast, and one couldhave fancied just then that he had not a care in the world. Therewere, however, men who said that in the case of Dom Clementetranquillity was not always a favorable sign.

  Opposite him sat the trader Herrero, who was not quite so much at easeas he desired to be. His manners were usually characterized by acertain truculence, which as a rule served him well in the bush, buthe had sense enough to realize that it was not likely to have mucheffect upon his companion. There was something about the littlesmiling gentleman in the immaculate white uniform on the other side ofthe table which would have made it difficult for one to adopt anaggressive attitude towards him, even if he had not been one who heldauthority. Herrero had therefore laid a somewhat unusual restraintupon himself while he expressed his views, and now sat watching hiscompanion anxiously. Dom Clemente lighted a cigar before he answeredhim.

  "This Englishman," he said, "is apparently a turbulent person. I havejust received a letter concerning him from the Chefe at San Roque, asyou are, no doubt, aware."

  There was a question in his glance which Herrero could not ignore,though he would have liked to do so. He felt it was unfortunate thathe did not know exactly what was in the letter.

  "I addressed my complaint to the Chefe in the first case," he said."Since Ormsgill is believed to have traveled towards the coast it wasto be expected that Dom Erminio should communicate with you."

  "Exactly!" and Dom Clemente smiled. "The complaint, it seems, is adouble one. The Englishman Ormsgill has, I am informed, abducted anative girl who was in your company, but one can not quite understandhow he has offended in this, since it appears that she was content togo with him. In one case only you have a remedy. If you have anyrecord of a marriage with this woman the affair shall be looked into."

  "I have none," and Herrero made a little gesture. "There are, youunderstand, certain customs in the bush."

  Dom Clemente reproachfully shook his head. "They are," he said, "notrecognized by the law, and that being so your grievance against theEnglishman is a purely personal one. It is no doubt exasperating thatthe woman should prefer him, and she is probably unwise in this, butit is not a matter that concerns any one else."

  "It is not alleged that she preferred him," and the trader's faceflushed a trifle.

  "Still," said his companion, "she went with him. Now you do not wishto tell me that you had laid any restraint upon her to keep her withyou, or that there was anything to warrant you doing so. For instance,you do not wish me to believe that you had bought her?"

  Herrero did not, at least, consider it prudent. The law, as he wasaware, did not countenance such transactions, and while he sat silenthis companion smiled at him.

  "Then," he said, "I am afraid I can only offer you my sympathy, and wewill proceed to the next complaint. This Englishman, it is alleged,has also stolen certain boys from Domingo. Now the law allows a nativeto bind himself to labor for a specified time, and while theengagement lasts he is in a sense the property of the man he makes itwith. The engagement, of course, can only be made in due form on thecoast, but the man who brings the boys down and feeds them on thestrength of their promise may be considered to have some claim onthem. It seems to me that person was Domingo. Why did he not make thecomplaint himself?"

  "He is busy, and it would necessitate a long journey. Besides, I havea share in his business ventures."

  "That," said Dom Clemente reflectively, "is a sufficient reason. ThisDomingo seems to be an enterprising man. One wonders if he has manybusiness associates up yonder."

  Again Herrero did not answer. He did not like the little shrewd smilein his companion's eyes, for, as he was aware, the only white men inthe forests Domingo frequented were missionaries and administrators,who were, at least, not supposed to participate in purely commercialventures. He could not understand Dom Clemente at all, for it was verynatural that it should not occur to him that he was an honest man, aswell as an astute one who had been entrusted with a difficult task. Hewould, in fact, have been startled had he known what was in hiscompanion's mind. Seeing he did not speak, Dom Clemente waved hishand.

  "It seems," he said, "that Ormsgill will make for the coast with theboys in question, and you have come to warn me, partly because it isto your interest, and partly from the sense of duty. Well, with thisknowledge in my possession it should be difficult for him to get themaway."

  He stopped a moment, but Herrero saw nothing significant in the factthat he glanced languidly towards the _Palestrina_. She lay gleamingwhite like ivory on the glittering stretch of water he could seeacross the roofs of the city, and, as it happened, he was going offthat evening to a function which Desmond, who had brought her in theday before, had arranged.

  "Steps will be taken to intercept him when we have news of hiswhereabouts, and in the meanwhile I have another question," he said."There is discontent up yonder among the bushmen?"

  His manner was indifferent, but Herrero was on his guard. "A little,"he said. "If it becomes more serious it will be due to this Ormsgill,and, perhaps, to the missionaries. He and the American are teachingthe bushmen to be mutinous."

  Dom Clemente took up a letter which had, as it happened, been sent himby Father Tiebout, from the table, and read it meditatively. Then herose with a little smile.

  "The affair shall be looked into," he said.

  Herrero withdrew, not altogether satisfied. Dom Clemente had beenuniformly courteous, but now and then a just perceptible hardness hadcrept into his eyes. The latter, however, smiled as he poured himselfout another glass of wine, and then turned quietly, as his daughterappeared in the doorway. She came nearer, and stood looking down athim.

  "That man has gone away?" she said. "He is an infamous person."

  Dom Clemente glanced at the little green lattice on the white wallbehind her with a faint twinkle in his eyes. It was not very far away,and he remembered that Herrero had spoken distinctly.

  "One would admit that he is not a particularly estimable man, but hehas, like most of us, his little role to play," he said. "He does not,however, play it brilliantly."

  Benicia made a gesture of impatience. "The Englishman is on his wayto the coast. You are going to arrest him?"

  "When we know where he is. What would you have me do? A man inauthority has his duty."

  "Is it a duty to bring trouble on a man who has done no wrong?"

  Dom Clemente leaned forward with his arms on the table, and looked ather with a curious little smile.

  "I almost think," he said reflectively, "if I was a great friend ofthis Englishman's I would prefer him to fall into the hands of--such aman as I am. In that case, he would, at least, be prevented from goingback to the bush, which is just now unsafe for him."

  Benicia felt her face grow hot under his steady gaze. "The difficultyis that there are men without scruples who would blame him forwhatever trouble may be going on up yonder in the forest," she said."You would have to listen to them. If their complaints were seriouswhat would you do?"

  "Ah," said Dom Clemente, "that is rather more than I can tell. Whenone is young one feels that he is always expected to do something.Afterwards, however, one becomes content to leave it to the others nowand then. It is sometimes wiser to--look on. That may be my attitudein this case, but I am not sure that the affair is one that concernsyou."

  He made a little deprecatory gesture as he turned to the papers infront of him, and Benicia went out quietly. It was an affair thatconcerned her very much indeed, but she knew that Dom Clemente couldbe reticent, and she fancied tha
t he had something in his mind. As ithappened, this was the case with her. In the meanwhile he sat still,gazing thoughtfully at the sun-scorched town while he smoked anothercigar. Then he rose with a little jerk of his shoulders, and bucklingon his big sword went down the stairway.

  When evening came he went off to the _Palestrina_ with his daughter,her attendant Senora Castro, and one or two officials and their wives,and enjoyed an excellent dinner on board the yacht. He fancied Beniciawas rather silent during part of it, and glanced at her once or twice,which she naturally noticed, and as the result of it roused herself tojoin in the conversation. Still, she was a trifle relieved when thedinner was over and Desmond led them up on deck. Clear moonlightstreamed in between the awnings, and, as it happened, Desmond seatedhimself beside the rail at some distance from her Madeira chair. Twiceshe ventured to make him a little sign, which he apparentlydisregarded, but at last he rose and walked forward, and she turned tothe black-robed Senora Castro, who had clung persistently to her side.

  "The dew is rather heavy. I brought a wrap or two, but I think I leftthem in the saloon," she said.

  The little portly lady waddled away, and a minute or two later Beniciarose languidly, and moved towards the companion door through which shehad disappeared. Instead of descending the stairway, the girl slippedout by the other door, and flitted forward in the shadow of thedeckhouse until she came upon Desmond standing beneath the bridge.

  "You do not seem to notice things to-night. I signed to you twice,"she said.

  Desmond smiled. "I saw you," he said. "Still, I wasn't quite sure thatanother of my guests did not do so, too. You have something to say tome."

  Benicia turned and glanced down the long deck. There was nobodyvisible on that part of it.

  "Yes," she said a trifle breathlessly. "But nobody must know that Ihave talked to you alone."

  Desmond opened the door of the little room beneath the bridge. A lampburned in it, and he flung a shade across the port before he drew thegirl in, and then closing the door, leaned with his back against it.

  "I do not think we shall be disturbed," he said.

  Benicia stood still a moment looking at him. It was in the case of ayoung woman from The Peninsula a very unusual thing she had done, butthere was inconsequent courage in her, and a certain quietimperiousness in her manner.

  "You have coal and water on board?" she said.

  "I have," said Desmond. "I have also clearance papers for BritishNigeria, but we haven't steam up. You see, I expected to stay here atleast a day or two."

  "Then you must raise it. You must sail for the Bahia Santiago beforeto-morrow."

  "You have word of Ormsgill?" and Desmond became suddenly intent. "Heis a man who is never late, but on this occasion he is a week or twobefore his time. Well, I dare say we can sail to-morrow. You will tellme what you know?"

  He leaned against the door with a quiet thoughtful face while she didso, and then the Celtic temperament revealed itself in the flash inhis eyes.

  "It will evidently be a tight fit, but we'll get him if I have to armevery man on board and bring him off," he said. "That there may becomplications afterwards doesn't in the least matter."

  "Ah," said Benicia, "you are one who would do a good deal for afriend."

  Desmond looked at her with a little wry smile. "Miss Figuera," he saidslowly, "I think I would gladly do a very great deal for you."

  A just perceptible flicker of color crept into the girl's face. "Butwhat you are about to do now is for your friend Ormsgill."

  "Yes," said Desmond, still with the curious little smile. "In one way,at least, I suppose it is."

  Benicia turned and faced him, with the color growing plainer in hercheeks, and for a moment there was hot anger in her, for she knew whathe meant. Then the fierce resentment vanished suddenly, as she oncemore met his eyes. There was something that suggested a deep regret inthem, and his manner was wholly deferential.

  "I only wish you to understand that if I fail it will not be because Ihave not done all I can," he said. "You see, I would, at least, liketo keep your good opinion, and in spite of every effort one can'talways be successful. Still, if it is possible, I will bring Ormsgillsafely off. As you say, he is my friend."

  There was silence for, perhaps, half a minute, and during it each knewwhat the other was thinking. Then Benicia made this clear.

  "Ah," she said, "you are a very generous man." She stopped a moment,and there was a faint tremble in her voice when she turned to himagain. "You have come from Las Palmas?"

  "I have," said Desmond. "I saw Miss Ratcliffe there. I think I mayventure to tell you that Ormsgill will never marry her."

  Benicia's face flamed, but the color died out of it again, and shelooked at him quietly. "To no one else could I have forgiven that.Still, one can forgive everything to one who has your courage--anddevotion."

  Desmond made a little gesture. "Well," he said simply, "we sail beforeto-morrow, and I will do what I can. There is this in my favor--yourfriends probably don't know where Ormsgill is heading for."

  Then the girl started suddenly with consternation in her eyes, forthere was a tapping at the door, but Desmond's hand fell on hershoulder and she felt that he would do what was most advisable. Nextmoment he leaned forward and turned the lamp out before he threw thedoor open.

  "Well," he said, "what do you want? I am, as you see, just comingout."

  There was moonlight outside, though the awnings dimmed it, and justthere the bridge flung a shadow on the deck, and he recognized withthe first glance that it was one of his guests who had tapped uponthe door which he flung carelessly to behind him.

  "One wondered where you had gone to," said the man.

  Desmond laughed, and slipping his hand beneath the inquirer's armstrolled aft with him, but he sighed with relief when, as they joinedthe others on the opposite side of the deck-house, he saw Beniciaalready sitting there. He did not know how she had contrived it, untilhe remembered that to slip through the companion would shorten thedistance. It was, however, half an hour later when she found anopportunity of standing beside him for a moment or two.

  "It seems that one is watched," she said. "You must be careful."

  Desmond was on the whole not sorry when his guests took themselvesaway, and he laughed as he stood at the gangway shaking hands withthem.

  "I am afraid I shall not be ashore to-morrow," he said. "It is verylikely that we shall be out at sea by then."

  One or two of them expressed their regret, and the boat slid away,while some little time afterwards Dom Clemente glanced at his daughteras they stood on the outer stairway of his house. Beneath them theycould see the _Palestrina_ dotted here and there with blinking lights,and a dingy smear of smoke was steaming from her funnel.

  "So he is going away again to-morrow," he said reflectively. "Well, Isuppose one is always permitted to change his mind."

  Benicia made no answer, and Dom Clemente stood still, glancingtowards the steamer with a somewhat curious expression when she wentinto the house. Then he made a little abrupt gesture, as of one whoresigns himself, before he turned away and went in after her.

  "In the meanwhile I look on," he said.