Chapter XII: In New Guinea (2)

Notwithstanding all that the man had done to Hillary the young apprentice felt some sympathy for the afflicted Rajah. It was so unexpected. Ulysses, who had sworn to do so much when he had Macka in his grasp, re-echoed the horror, the murmur that went up from the huddled, onlooking crew. And no wonder, for as they watched a woman's scream of anguish echoed to the mountains. In a moment they all moved back as the Rajah, hearing that scream, put his hand forth in mute appeal. _He_ heard the sympathetic wail in that blood-curdling cry. The final act of the terrible drama, enacted before Ulysses and his crew, was strangely in harmony with its wild setting. None expected that final act, the thrilling exit from the stage when Maroshe the Koiari woman forgave and became united to the Rajah! Mango Pango jumped with fright and clutched Bilbao's arm. "Saver me, poor Mango," she wailed. Bilbao dispelled the tense silence by yelling out: "By thunder!"

The hollow-eyed mate stood like a spectre of misery who saw retribution ahead as he lifted his shrunken hands and stared upward at the stars.

The hubbub of the cowardly natives had suddenly ceased as they too watched Macka's exit from his old life. Gabrielle clutched Hillary in fear; indeed, every onlooker drew in a mighty breath as they saw them go--Macka, a blind, groping figure, looking like some demon of the night flying onward, and shouting in his Malayan tongue, one hand waving in the air, Maroshe clinging to his other arm. They were reunited at last, and she was leading him away to watch over him in his eternal darkness.

For quite twenty seconds Ulysses and all the crew stared after them.

By now the cowardly natives, who had sought to give no help to one of their own kind, had begun their infernal hubbub and were clamouring round Ulysses, begging for the several bribes he had promised should they lead him to the place where the Rajah had taken the white girl.

Bilbao, who had lived with the natives from Dampier Strait to Sarawak, Borneo, knew they were a treacherous lot and liable to turn on him and his scanty crew at any moment, so he was anxious to get back to the _Sea Foam_. He wiped the perspiration from his brow. His voice was almost gentle as he turned to Hillary and Gabrielle and said, with evidently simulated calm: "I say, we'd better clear out of this at once." Then he turned to the crew: "Hurry up, boys; let's get back to the boats." The sallow mate, who had fallen down in a kind of fit, rose to his feet, and stood swaying like a branch in a wind as he brushed the dust from his brass-bound, peaked cap.

In a moment Hillary, Gabrielle, Mango Pango and the crew had started off, hurrying down the track as Ulysses led the way; the natives came clamouring behind them, whirling and humming in guttural appeals like bunches of monstrous two-legged stalk-flies.

It all seemed like a wonderful dream to Hillary as Gabrielle once more walked by his side, her hair blowing against his face. Even dusky Mango Pango had a shadowy look as she clung to Gabrielle's arm, her broad showy yellow sash blowing out behind her as the two girls kept close to the heels of the hurrying crew.

"Don't tremble, dear. I've come, you see. I never thought to see you again," said Hillary, as he realised that he did not move through a shadow world of phantoms and dreams.

"I knew you'd come," said Gabrielle, as she looked him in the eyes.

Hillary half noticed that strange look of her in the hurry and bustle of the flight back to the boats--a bustle and hurry that Gabrielle appreciated. At last they arrived on the beach. In a moment the natives who were waiting paddled their canoes to the shore. A tremendous hubbub had begun just behind them. What was it?

Gabrielle gasped as she heard that loud, terrible voice yelling from far off: "Butih Bunga, my kali bini!"

It was the enraged voice of old _bapa_ (Macka's father) hurrying through the jungle. He wanted to know where his son was, and so he called aloud for the beautiful white wife (_putih bini_).

The natives whom Ulysses had bribed had rushed straight away to Macka's people and told them all that had occurred.

"Hurry up, you damned niggers," yelled Ulysses, as he looked behind him. He was busy undoing the knotted tackle that held the ship's boat.

"Now we shan't be long!" he said, as he gave a low whistle. For he had spotted the huddled masses of dusky figures who had just rushed out of the forest of mahogany-trees, as old _bapa_ drove them on, keeping warily behind them! Old _bapa_ could distinctly be seen waving his arms as he came into sight just round the edge of the belt of mangroves; he was following closely behind the heathen horde who were rushing down to the beach. From the loud shouts, and the courage of the pursuers, it was every evident that old _bapa_ was yelling forth mighty promises of prizes for those who could clutch hold of the Rajah's _putih bini_.

"Jump into the boat, never mind me," whispered Hillary. In a moment Gabrielle was safely sitting just behind Mango Pango in the ship's one boat, as the rest of the crew embarked in the unstable canoes in which they had come ashore.

Hillary and Ulysses still stood on the shore. As the apprentice turned his head he saw a dusky Papuan crouch down by the reefs just up the shore. Swish! A spear was thrown.

"Crack! crack!" Hillary had fired his revolver to make sure. He was taking no risks. Old _bapa's_ voice was still shouting lustily, till his words echoed in the mountains: "Putih bini! The Rajah's beautiful bunga bini!" And though the top of the dusky Papuan's head had been blown off, and Ulysses had given a muffled oath and told Hillary to jump into the canoe and not stand there on the beach writing poetry, those dreadful words echoed in the young apprentice's brain--for he knew the meaning of them.

Hillary, recovering his mental equilibrium, turned to embark, and was helped by a shove from the irritated Ulysses into the canoe.

In a moment the paddles were splashing. They were off! The covey of canoes shot out into the silent waters of the forest-locked bay! In a quarter of an hour they had all safely reached the decks of the hospitable _Sea Foam_.

"Clear off, you niggers," said Ulysses, as the clamouring natives received payment for the job in tins of condensed milk, sugar, tea and tobacco plug. But still they clamoured for more! In no time Ulysses had picked up a deck broom and cleared them over the side, back into their canoes. In less than an hour the _Sea Foam_ was stealing along the coast to the north-west.

It appeared that Samuel Bilbao had got wind that the North German steamer _Lubeck_ was about due from Apia, bound for the ports of German New Guinea along the western coast. The _Sea Foam_ was right dead in the trading course. He was anxious to get Hillary and Gabrielle off the _Sea Foam_ in case of trouble. Ulysses was no fool: he well knew that the original skipper of the _Sea Foam_ would not stagnate in Bougainville, but would make a hue-and-cry and seek Government help to trace the whereabouts of his vessel. Bilbao loved liberty, and the idea of languishing for five or ten years in some island _calaboose_ (jail) or in Darlinghurst, New South Wales, a punishment that would not be out of place in the verdict of the kindest judge and jury extant, made him anxious to seek the outer seas. Consequently, before dawn the _Sea Foam_ once more dropped anchor, under the cover of dark, some miles to the east of Astrolabe Bay.

"Come along, boy, now's yer chance. Bring the gal forward," said Ulysses, as he put his hand to his brow and scanned the sea horizon.

"What's the matter?" whispered Gabrielle, as she stepped forward, half recovering from the stupor that had made her fall asleep as she had sobbed in Hillary's arms under the awning aft. Hillary, who had hardly spoken a word to her during the three hours they had been on board the _Sea Foam_, said: "We are going to leave the _Sea Foam_. Our friend here has got to fly, to go a voyage that we cannot take." Hillary said no more. He could not very well explain to the girl, especially in her distressed condition, _how_ Samuel Bilbao had obtained possession of the _Sea Foam_ and that now that Gabrielle had been rescued from the kidnapper, Macka, he must sail her to remote isles where he could strand her, make a bolt, or do anything he liked except go back to Bougainville. Indeed, Ulysses, Hillary and the bilious, haunted mate had planned the whole programme before they had first dropped anchor off Tumba-Tumba. Ulysses knew that Hillary could easily obtain a passage from Astrolabe Bay for the Admiralty Isles, and then again ship for Bougainville. And so it happened that at the first flush of dawn, when all the stars were taking flight, Samuel Bilbao put forth his big hand and gripped Hillary affectionately by the wrist: "Farewell, pal; good luck to ye."

"Good-bye, Bilbao; and may good luck come to you," said Hillary, with deep meaning and sincerity in his voice as he looked into the clear eyes of the Homeric sailorman.

"Awaie! O le Sona Gaberlel," wailed sad Mango Pango, as she threw her arms affectionately round the white girl's neck. She had known Gabrielle as a child in Bougainville. For a moment the two girls wept. It was a strange sight to see Mango Pango's brown arms entwined with Gabrielle's white arms as they bade each other farewell and wept together. They were only girls after all. Then the mate crept out of the shadows of the awning aft; he had worried so much over his share in stealing the _Sea Foam_ and in helping to install Ulysses as skipper, and he had so reduced his frame, that he seemed to consist only of clothes and bones, a veritable skeleton of sorrow with a cheese-cutter on its skull. "Farewell, for ever, friends; farewell!" he almost sobbed, as his bones creaked. At hearing that melancholy voice, Samuel Bilbao, in his thunderous, inconsequential style, gave a loud guffaw and brought his fist down with wonderful artistic gentleness on the mate's bowed form. Had Ulysses struck the mate with his usual forcible exuberance he would have surely doubled up as though he were no more than a bit of muslin wrapped round an upright skeleton.

Then Ulysses gently took hold of Gabrielle's hand and said: "I knew yer brave old father years ago!" Then he added: "Good-bye, girl; he's a good boy, he is."

Hillary felt truly sorry to say farewell to that strange man of the seas. Samuel Bilbao still held the girl's hand. His voice had gone as tender as the girl's. And Mango Pango's eyes looked very fierce as Ulysses, stooping forward, bent one knee with a massive gallantry that belonged to another age:

"Farewell, Miss Gabrielle; farewell!"

Even the huddled crew seemed to come under the spell of Bilbao's personality as the first pallid hint of dawn swept across the seas. A hot wind from the inland forests on the starboard side stirred Ulysses' magnificent moustache as he slowly rose to his feet, and with his hand arched over his clear blue eyes stared seaward. Then he lifted his dilapidated helmet-hat. The soft sea winds fluttered the bronze-hued curls that hung like an insignia of chivalry over his lofty brow. With a magnificent gesture he gently pulled the disheveled golden head towards his big bosom, then softly kissed Gabrielle's upturned face as though he had loved her a thousand years ago, and now, once again, they must part, each going their separate ways.

Gabrielle couldn't help coming under the influence of that extraordinary man: she too felt a definite sorrow over the parting. And as she looked up into the flushed, honest countenance, half in wonder at her own thoughts, and caught one glimpse from those fine eyes, she saw the _real_ Ulysses--all that he might have been.

"Captain, it's a-getting loight, dye's a-coming!" came like a rasp from the Cockney seaman. But even that voice could hardly break the romance of the farewell scene.

Then a mist seemed to come over the silent world as Ulysses, standing like a giant on deck amidst his wondering crew, dissolved into the shadows.

"Dip, dip," went the splashing oars as Gabrielle and Hillary looked into each other's eyes. They were in the ship's boat being rowed hurriedly ashore at Aufurao.

Half-an-hour after they both stood on the beach of a strange, desolate land. Sunrise had just begun to throw ineffable hues over the mountain peaks just behind them. Once more they stared seaward and saw the _Sea Foam_ fading away on the wine-dark seas, the sails fast disappearing like a grey bird, taking Ulysses, his remorseful mate and crew, and laughing Mango Pango, beyond the horizon, out of sight, far from their aching, watching eyes.

It was a wild god-forsaken spot where Hillary and Gabrielle found themselves stranded. They were miles away from A----, where a scanty population of white men, half-a-dozen in all, owned copra, coffee and sugar plantations. But though it was the wildest spot in the whole of New Guinea, the young apprentice preferred it to any other. Even the great loneliness, that seemed to come out of the wide, endless seas into which the _Sea Foam_ had faded, was more welcome than his own thoughts.

"Come on, Gabrielle," he said, as he sighed, and looked seaward. He thought how he was seeing the great world with a vengeance, reaping life's full meed of romance and sorrow. He realised how one by one his old ideals had disappeared, receding into the past like frightened birds. But who can tell what thoughts haunted the young apprentice as the tropic sun blazed over the wild coast of New Guinea and as Gabrielle, exhausted, slept beneath the mountain trees.

As she lay there in the leafy glooms of the dwarf ivory-nut palms, he looked down on her sleeping face till the soft-lashed eyelids seemed to be two tiny graves wherein lay buried all the purest passion of his dreams.

Up in the tall, dark-green-fingered palms a strange yellow iris bird was singing. And it seemed to him that it had come to serenade him in his loneliness and whistle some hope into his heart. Then it flew away, and he, too, lay down and slept till once more the great tropic night crept with stars over that wild, godforsaken forest coast. He heard the call of the red-wings in the jungle and the forest that ran sheer to the rugged mountains that overlooked the shore. It seemed that he and she dwelt alone in all that primitive world of sombre forest lands and interminable gullies.

"Gabrielle, we must get away from here," he said, as she stood beside him trembling. She had just awakened from a dream that had given her Hillary's love and the security of civilisation far from the unreal world of jungle that met her eyes.

"Come on, Gabrielle." The girl took his hand like an obedient child, and then walked with him out on to the reefs where the waves came hurrying in, tossing their white, foamy hands by the caves and coral bars. Neither spoke one word about the arranged trip up the coast to the settlements, and of the _Lubeck_, N.G.L. steamer, and all that Ulysses had so carefully planned, so that they might not be stranded on that dreadful, fever-stricken coast. It seemed that they had read each other's souls and by instinctive communion stood there caring not where their steps might take them so long as they were together.

As they stood there at the edge of the promontory, beneath the bright stars, Hillary half imagined he stood again on the old hulk off Bougainville; the two dead screw-pines ahead of them looked just like the rotting masts of an old wreck.

"Come nearer, dearest," said the young apprentice, just as he had done on the derelict hulk. Then he said: "Gabrielle, don't cry, dearest. I love you with all my heart and soul. I realise now how you must have felt that night on the old hulk off Bougainville, when you wanted me to jump into the sea and die with you."

He pulled her softly towards him, rained impassioned kisses on her mouth and once more looked down into the depths of her eyes. Their lips met again and again. He placed his fingers in the folds of her glorious hair and breathed the music of his soul into her ears.

Like some herald of a phantom day, a great radiance flushed the horizon--it was the moon rising far out to sea. It was then that Hillary looked into the girl's eyes and said tenderly: "Is this to be the end, dearest?"

"I'll go anywhere with you," said Gabrielle.

A soft drift of wind came across the hot seas, ruffled the glassy deep swell of the ocean, blowing Gabrielle's tresses out as she stood there. Nor did the torn blue blouse, the dilapidated shoes and her jungle-scratched face impair her beauty.

Gabrielle simply pressed her lips to his and repeated: "I'll go wherever you go."

It was not till then that Hillary realised the soundness of Ulysses' advice. A moment before in his dreamy, melancholy mood he had thought of putting out to sea with Gabrielle in an old canoe which he had found among the reefs. It would make so romantic a climax to their adventure: he had thought of the mysterious and wonderful shores on which they might find themselves driven by the sea, without chart or compass. Gabrielle said she would go wherever he went. Well, after all, they would make their way to the small white settlement, and see what turned up then. Hillary would probably be able to find a ship to take him and Gabrielle away. And then--and then.

He turned again to the girl who was still staring out to sea.

"Are you ready?" he said, rousing himself. "For it seems to me the first thing we've got to do is a good long tramp. That'll bring us to the settlement. Don't you want to see people who are more or less civilised once again?"

"Of course I do. But when you said that about going away with you wherever you went, I thought--I thought you meant----" She hesitated.

"Oh! so you thought that," said Hillary. "Well, never mind. Come, we ought to make a move. And as we go you can tell me of everything that's happened." His face darkened. "Gabrielle," he added a moment later, "you know that I always believed in you."

"Yes," she added simply. "And--and, Hillary, thank God you _were_ in time to rescue me from that Rajah Macka. Oh, if you had been too late!"

Hillary for a moment turned away, his eyes wet with emotion. He had feared such unutterable things.

"Yes," he said, his voice hardly steady; "thank God, we were in time. What an adventure it has been. But now everything seems to have come right again. And I've got you for always, haven't I?" he added. And the wind, singing in the palms, drifted a tress of Gabrielle's hair against his face as they stood there gazing on the great moonlit ocean before them.