“What are the odds on Lew?” she asked.
“It’s not that way at all.”
“How is it, then?”
“We’re sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Don’t be anything. It’s my problem.”
“I suppose so.”
“Oh, it is. It’s nobody’s business.”
“Yes.”
“And I do like him, Jay.”
“That’s fine.”
The very old men had begun to dance. They danced with stiff legs, their backs bent, their necks outthrust. The chorus came in, woo-woo, behind the voice of the Chief Musician. A dozen old men danced. Their skin was the color of gray clay. They did not sweat. They looked like dancing storks.
“He doesn’t know any other way,” she said. “He’s not bad at heart. He’s quite sensitive. He just needs someone to take him in hand.”
It was like a woman to assign to a bull of a man like Cable a sensitive nature, Jay thought. Women often did that. No wonder he knocked out the bartender, one would say of some thug. He’s so sensitive. He didn’t like the bartender’s tie. No wonder he had the quarrel here and the fight there and ruined this woman and deserted that one. He’s so sensitive. It was a good racket and a lot of big, ugly bastards worked it. They could work it as long as they could make women believe they were better in bed than other men.
“I’d like to take him in hand,” Jay said. “I’d like to break his neck.”
Cable came around the tent. “Would you, Boy Scout?” His voice was ugly. The mosquito netting diffused the light from the safari lantern, but Jay could see his face as he moved in. Cable looked at Eve. “Please go to your tent,” he said.
“I’d rather stay,” Eve said.
“I want to talk with Jay.”
“I shall stay.”
“All right. I’ll talk to him later.”
“No,” Jay said. “Let’s get it over with. Please go, Eve.”
“You won’t knock him about?” she asked Cable.
“Of course not.”
“Please don’t.”
“I won’t, Eve.”
“Lew, I’ve made up my mind,” she said.
“Have you?”
“I’ll do whatever you say,” she said.
“Good.”
“Must you still talk with Jay?”
“Yes.” There was excitement and triumph in Cable’s voice. “For a moment. Then I’ll see you in your tent.”
“Not tonight.”
“Yes, tonight.”
“All right.” Her voice was flat. “Good-by, Jay.”
“Good-by.”
She went away.
“Now,” said Cable.
“Now what?”
“I’m going to knock you about, as the lady says.”
“You can lick me,” Jay said. “You won’t be proving anything.”
“No. But I’ll enjoy myself.”
Cable came towards him, hands low, moving sideways, his jaw half hidden by a hunched left shoulder, his right foot dragging a little. “Are you yellow?” he asked. His left hand came out and hit Jay on the cheekbone. It was not a hard blow, but it hurt.
“Come on,” he said. “Come on, Boy Scout.”
Jay kicked Cable’s lame leg, ducked a blow and threw himself at Cable’s legs like a blocking halfback. Cable fell sideways, half against a camp chair, half on Jay. He grunted as he hit the ground. Jay scrambled clear of his legs, got to his feet in time to kick Cable in the face as he sat up. Cable rolled with the kick and was on his feet before Jay could kick him again. His leg was hurt, but he came limping forward. His nose was bleeding. He limped towards Jay with his jaw behind his hunched shoulder. He blocked two punches, hit Jay with his left hand on the temple and then moved in and drove his hands against Jay’s body. The blows forced the breath out of Jay’s lungs. He tried to come in closer and Cable clubbed him twice on the face with his right hand.
He got off the ground and swung at Cable and missed and Cable hit him with his left hand. He had a harder time getting up this time. He could not see Cable very well. He tried to grapple with him and Cable hit him twice; with his left and then with his right as he was going down. Now he did not know what he was doing. He was no longer angry. He did not even know who he was fighting. He got to his knees and something exploded in his face and he was on the ground again. Twice more he got part of his body off the ground, but there was always the explosion. He could not get up again. He tried, but he could not get up. The water made his face ache. The water was cool and it ran in his mouth. His face and his head and his body ached. Cable was pouring water from the canteen on his face.
“Feel better?” Cable asked.
“No.”
“You will.” Cable hung up the canteen. “Why did you keep getting up?”
“I didn’t know I did.”
“The last time I didn’t have to hit you. You fell over.”
“Did I?”
“Come on.” Cable bent over him and put an arm under his armpits. “I’ll take you to your tent.”
“Let me down, you bastard.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Let me down.”
Cable put him down and went away. Jay lay on the ground, his face in the mud made by the canteen water. The pygmies were still dancing. It seemed a long time since he had watched them, but he supposed it was only a few minutes. The dancer with the sticks had a new rhythm: clack, chack-clack; chack, clack-clack. A beetle was trying to get through the mosquito netting to the safari lantern, its wings noisy with rage. The mud felt good against his face.
He hated Cable with an ice-cold anger. He would not kill him, though. It was not worth that. He could not justify killing Cable. He wished he had something that would justify killing him. He got to his hands and knees and was sick. What a bloody business! he thought. Cable was not altogether to blame. He should not have been listening, but he had a right to resent what Jay had said. Jay got to his feet. His whole body hurt and he was dizzy. Blood kept running into his mouth from a cut on his lip. It hurt him to breathe. He walked slowly to his tent, the pygmies’ song in his ears. Bill was not there. He took off his boots and wet a handkerchief and put it on his lip and got in bed. It was funny, but he felt no shame at having been licked.
He wondered what it was that made brawlers of some men. Cable liked to fight. He had been notorious in New York for his fighting. In a man like Cable, Jay thought, it was a form of sadism. He was fairly careful to get into brawls with people he could lick. Drunks, newspapermen, clumsy bouncers, elderly bartenders and members of his social set had been his victims. Nobody really tough. It was partly a way of building yourself up, but it was partly sadism. It was a way you could be cruel and still have people approve of you. It was sporting to fight with your fists as long as you did not lick women, children or midgets. But you did not see the boys with real guts doing that. Not the really capable boys like Dempsey and Tunney and Louis. They fought only when it was necessary to fight and not for cruelty or to build up their ego.
This was getting a little complicated. He was trying to justify his hatred of Cable. He could do it easily enough by thinking of Eve. What were her last words with Cable?
“Not tonight.”
“Yes, tonight.”
“All right.”
If only there was something he could do. Yet she did not want any interference. He would not think of the stealthy hand on the canvas, of the whispered, “Come in,” of the soft flesh and the lilac perfume and the excitement——
After a time Bill came into the tent.
“You here, Jay?”
“Yes.”
“Drink too much?”
“Yes.”
“We wondered where you’d gone.”
“I got sleepy.”
“I had a snootful, too,” Bill said. “But I’m all right now.”
“Aren’t you going to bed?”
“You bet. No place like bed.”
Bil
l undressed and turned off the lantern.
“Is there?” he asked.
“Is there what?”
“No place like bed.”
“No.”
CHAPTER 22
JAY SLEPT BADLY. His chest and face hurt and he had dreams. He dreamed he was dancing with the pygmies, the sound of their tom-tom close behind him. He woke for a moment and heard the pygmy music. The chorus was louder now and a pygmy with a baritone voice had joined the Chief Musician. The voices and the tom-toms were weird. He dreamed there was a leopard in the tent. He lit his flashlight, but the tent was empty. He lay on his back and listened to the pygmies. There was singing and laughter and the sound of many hands clapping time. He felt sick about Eve. He did not know if he loved her or not, but it was awful to think of her giving herself to Lew Cable.
“Not tonight.”
“Yes, tonight.”
“All right.”
He went to sleep watching a moonbeam on the mosquito netting. Still later, he thought he heard the sound of a shot. He listened, half awake, not moving in his bed. There was a second shot.
“What was that?” Bill asked, sitting up in bed.
“Somebody shooting.”
Bill got up. Jay put on his boots and followed him out of the tent. The clearing was in bright moonlight, the tents white against the dark background of the forest, the earth a soapy gray. Eve, Mr. Palmer and Herbert were in front of Eve’s tent.
“What happened?” Bill asked.
“A very pretty mess,” Mr. Palmer said. “Cable’s been shot.”
“Where is he?”
“Right there.”
They hadn’t noticed him. He was lying in the shadow of Eve’s tent, almost under their feet. Now Jay could hear him breathing. He glanced at Eve. She had on pajamas. Her face was white and expressionless.
“Who shot him?” Bill asked.
“I did,” Herbert said. “The bastard tried to get into Mrs. Salles’ tent.”
Bill knelt beside Cable.
“Is he dying?” Jay asked.
“No. Shoulder wound.”
“Must put him on something,” Mr. Palmer said. “Ground’s very bad.”
He helped Bill lift Cable off the ground.
“The bloody bastard,” Herbert said.
“Careful,” Mr. Palmer said. “Haven’t you done enough?”
Cable was very heavy. Jay helped them. They started across the clearing. Herbert followed them. Eve went into her tent. The bonfires of the pygmies were burning, but the dancers had vanished. Cable groaned.
“Why didn’t you call for help?” Mr. Palmer asked Herbert.
“And have him bash me, like he did Mr. Nichols?”
Bill and Mr. Palmer looked at Jay.
“We had a little argument,” Jay said.
They carried Cable into his tent and put him on his bed. He had on yellow silk pajamas with his monogram in black thread above the pocket. The coat was soaked with blood. Bill took it off. The bullet had entered the shoulder just outside the collarbone.
“Where’d the other shot go?” Jay asked.
“I fired over his head the first time,” Herbert said. “But when the bloke came for me, I had to shoot him.”
“How’d you happen to see him?” Mr. Palmer asked.
“I was watching. She asked me. She told me to let nobody in. Particularly him.”
Jay had a sudden good feeling. She had changed her mind. She hadn’t been able to go through with it. And now she might never have to.
Cable opened his eyes. “How bad?” he asked.
“You’re all right,” Bill said.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Why the hell should I? I wish he had got you between the eyes.”
Cable’s eyes went to the others, but he closed them when he saw their faces were unfriendly. He was white from the loss of blood. Juma and Mulu were standing in the entrance to the tent, their eyes large and alarmed. The other boys were behind them.
“Mulu,” Mr. Palmer said.
“Yes, bwana.”
“Fetch my medicine kit.”
Mulu went away. Mr. Palmer sent the other boys for boiling water. Cable lay on the bed with his eyes closed. The wound was bleeding a little, but the blood had begun to thicken. It was possible that the shoulder was broken. Mr. Palmer stared at Jay.
“You did have an argument,” he said.
“He won, too,” Jay said.
He tried to smile, but it hurt his split lip. He was glad Cable had been shot. He was glad about Eve. Mulu came with the kit and Mr. Palmer opened a bottle of iodine and emptied it into Cable’s wound. Cable bucked on the bed. He tried to sit up.
“Hold still,” Bill said, pushing him down. “You’ll start the bleeding again.”
Cable lay back on the bed, his hands clenched, his breath coming through his teeth. His face was twisted. Juma brought the hot water. Mr. Palmer took a clean towel and washed around the wound. Then he put an absorbent pad over the bullet hole and bandaged the shoulder. Cable groaned again.
“Wait until they probe for the bullet,” Mr. Palmer said. “Then you will yell.”
“How soon can you get me to a doctor?” Cable asked.
“Have you there by noon.”
“What time is it?”
“Past four.”
“Eight hours. I don’t know if I can make it.”
“Yes, you can.”
“You’ve never been shot.”
“Oh, haven’t I? Five times, if you must know. Still sproutin’ shrapnel from a burst at Ypres.”
Bill said, “Let’s give him a drink.”
“Right.”
“I’ll get it,” Jay said.
He went to the supply tent. He got a paper cup and a bottle of whisky. He poured himself a drink, drank it and threw the cup away. The whisky burned his cut lip. He got another cup for Cable. On his way back he saw the porters and Mr. Palmer’s boys huddled around the cook’s fire. They were frightened. The pygmies’ fires were low, and the dance ground was empty. He couldn’t see any pygmies. Eve had come into the tent while he was gone. She had put a tan camel’s-hair coat over her pajamas. He gave the bottle and the cup to Bill.
Eve said, “Jay!”
“What?”
“You’re hurt.”
“No.”
“But your face!”
Cable laughed. “Sure he’s hurt. Ask him how.”
Eve looked at Jay.
Cable said, “He got beat up.”
“You’ve had a big evening, haven’t you?” Eve said.
Bill was holding the paper cup to Cable’s lips. “Drink this and shut up.”
Cable pushed the whisky aside. “I should have fixed you, too, Boy Scout,” he said.
“Drink,” Bill said.
“Though I guess you’re fixed already,” Cable said. “You’re just yellow. You don’t have to be fixed.”
“For Christ’s sake, drink,” Bill said. “Before I throw it in your face.”
Cable drank the whisky and they left him. They went to the dining tent. Eve’s face was composed. Jay wondered what she was feeling. Her expression didn’t show anything.
“What a bloody mess!” Mr. Palmer said.
“May I use the medicine kit?” Eve asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m going to doctor Jay’s face.”
“I don’t need it,” Jay said.
“Best let her,” Mr. Palmer said. “You don’t look too healthy, laddybucks.”
Eve washed Jay’s face with a towel and hot water. She put iodine on his cut lip, on a cut he had not known about over his left eye and on the knuckles of his right hand. Her hands were gentle and it was nice to have her so close.
Then he went to bed. He lay awake in bed until dawn. Bill did not sleep either. Jay could hear him turning on his bed. It was too bad Cable had called him yellow. It was too bad being called yellow made such an impression on him. So far, it had been a hell of a trip for him. Maybe, now,
things would be better. It was a curious thing how some people took a constant beating from life while others did not. Was it possible that life found your weakness and then gave you a beating? Bill’s weakness was a fear of being afraid. His had been Linda. It was quite possible things were that way. He got up when the monkeys began to chatter in the trees. Bill got up, too, and they found Mr. Palmer in front of Cable’s tent. It was a gray dawn.
“How is he?” Jay asked.
“Holding up quite well.”
“Too bad,” Bill said.
The porters were waiting by a litter of vines and poles. Bill and Mr. Palmer went in the tent to carry out Cable. Jay watched the porters. They looked frightened. He heard Cable groan and Mr. Palmer say: “Easy does it,” and then Cable was brought out and put on the litter. The porters rolled their eyes at him. A little blue had come into the sky.
Cable said, “Give me a cigarette.”
Bill gave him a cigarette and lit it for him. Cable let the smoke roll out of his mouth.
“I’m bleeding internally,” he said.
“No, you’re not,” Mr. Palmer said.
“Goddamn it! I know.” Cable swung his head to look up at them. “Why don’t we start?”
“Take it easy,” Bill said.
“Are you bastards going to leave me here to bleed to death? Where’s Eve? Why don’t we start?”
Eve came with Herbert. “Here I am.”
“Let’s go,” Cable said. “For God’s sake, let’s go.”
Herbert had a suitcase. One of the porters took it.
“Where are your things, Eve?” Mr. Palmer asked.
“I’m not going.” She smiled at him. “Bill and Jay will take care of me.”
Cable was up on one arm. He was looking at Eve. “You can’t stay.”
“Yes, I can.”
“I forbid you to stay,” Cable said. “Palmer, I order you to take her along.”
“I can’t do that, you know.”
“I’m in charge. I order all of you to break camp and return to Lubero.”
“We’ll be in soon,” Bill said.
“Damn you,” Cable said. “Then I won’t go.”
Mr. Palmer motioned for the porters to lift the litter.
“No!” Cable yelled at the porters. They backed away from the litter. “I’ll jump if they lift me,” he said. “Eve goes, or I don’t.”
Dark Memory Page 21
