The Narrow Corner (23 page)

“If I were you the first thing I’d do is to go back to the
Fenton
and try and get a little sleep. You’re all in. You’ll be able to think better in the morning.”

“I can’t go back to the boat. I hate it. If you knew how often I’ve woken up in a cold sweat, with my heart beating, because those men opened the door of my cell, and I knew the rope was waiting for me! And now Erik’s lying there with half his head blown away. My God, how can I sleep?”

“Well, curl up on that chair. I’m going to bed.”

“Thanks. Go ahead. Will it disturb you if I smoke?”

“I’ll give you a little something. There’s no object in your lying awake.”

The doctor got out his hypodermic needle and gave the boy a shot of morphine. Then he put out the lamp and slipped under his mosquito curtain.

T
HE
doctor awoke when Ah Kay brought him a cup of tea. Ah Kay drew back the mosquito curtain and
raised the jalousie to let in the day. The doctor’s room looked on the garden, tangled and neglected, with its palm trees, its clumps of bananas their immense flat leaves still shining with the night, its bedraggled but splendid cassias; and the light filtered through cool and green. The doctor smoked a cigarette. Fred lay on the long chair, sleeping still, and his unlined boyish face, so calm, had an innocence in which the doctor, with a suspicion of sardonic humour, found a certain beauty.

“Shall I wake him?” asked Ah Kay.

“Not yet.”

While he slept he was at peace. He must awake to grief. An odd boy. Who would have thought that he could be so susceptible to goodness? For, though he didn’t know it, though he put what he felt in clumsy and stupid words, there was no doubt about it, what had knocked him off his feet in the Dane, what had excited his embarrassed admiration and made him feel that here was a man of a different sort, was the plain, simple goodness that shone in him with so clear and steadfast a light. You might have thought Erik a trifle absurd, you might have asked yourself uneasily whether his head were quite equal to his heart, but there was no doubt about it, he had, heaven only knew by what accident of nature, a real and simple goodness. It was specific. It was absolute. It had an aesthetic quality, and that commonplace lad, insensible to beauty in its
usual forms, had been moved to ecstasy by it as a mystic might be moved by the sudden overwhelming sense of union with the Godhead. It was a queer trait that Erik had possessed.

“It leads to no good,” said the doctor, with a grim smile as he got out of bed.

He went over to the mirror and stared at himself. He looked at his grey hair all disarranged after the night and his stubble of white beard that had grown since he had shaved the day before. He bared his teeth to look at his long yellow fangs. There were heavy pouches under his eyes. His cheeks had an unsightly purple. He was seized with disgust. He wondered why it was that of all creatures man was the only one that age so hideously disfigured. It was pitiful to think that Ah Kay, with his slender ivory beauty, must become nothing but a little shrivelled, wizened Chinaman, and that Fred Blake, so slim, upright and square-shouldered, would be just a red-faced old man with a bald head and a belly. The doctor shaved and had his bath. Then he awakened Fred.

“Come along, young fellow. Ah Kay’s just gone to see about our breakfast.”

Fred opened his eyes, immediately alert, eager in his youth to welcome another day, but then, looking about him, he remembered where he was, and everything else. His face on a sudden grew sullen.

“Oh, buck up,” said the doctor impatiently. “Go and have a wash down.”

Ten minutes later they were seated at breakfast, and the doctor noticed without surprise that Fred ate with a hearty appetite. He did not talk. Dr. Saunders congratulated himself. After so disturbed a night he felt none too well. His reflections upon life, then, were acid, and he preferred to keep them to himself.

When they were finishing the manager came up to them and addressed himself to Dr. Saunders in voluble Dutch. He knew the doctor did not understand, but talked nevertheless, and his signs and gestures would have made him comprehensible even if his manner, agitated and distressed, had not made what he was saying quite clear. Dr. Saunders shrugged his shoulders. He pretended he had no notion what the half-caste was talking about, and presently, in exasperation, the little man left them.

“They’ve found out,” said the doctor.

“How?”

“I don’t know. I suppose his house-boy went in to take him his tea.”

“Isn’t there anybody who can interpret?”

“We shall hear soon enough. Don’t forget, we neither of us know anything about it.”

They relapsed into silence. A few minutes later the manager returned with a Dutch official, in a white
uniform with brass buttons; he clicked his heels together, and mentioned an incomprehensible name. He spoke English with a very strong accent.

“I’m sorry to tell you that a Danish trader called Christessen has shot himself.”

“Christessen?” cried the doctor. “That tall fellow?”

He watched Fred out of the corner of his eye.

“He was found by his boys an hour ago. I am in charge of the inquiry. There can be no doubt that it is a case of suicide. Mr. van Ryk,” he motioned to the half-caste manager, “informs me that he was here last night to visit you.”

“That’s quite true.”

“How long did he stay?”

“Ten minutes or a quarter of an hour.”

“Was he sober?”

“Quite.”

“I never saw him drunk myself. Did he say anything that suggested he had the intention of doing away with himself?”

“No. He was quite cheerful. I didn’t know him very well, you know. I only arrived three days ago, and I’m waiting for the
Princess Juliana
.”

“Yes, I know. Then you can give no explanation of the tragedy?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“That is all I wanted to know. If I have any need of
anything more from you I will let you know. Perhaps you will not mind coming to my office.” He glanced at Fred. “And this gentleman can tell us nothing?”

“Nothing,” said the doctor. “He was not here. I was playing cards with the skipper of the ketch in the harbour just now.”

“I’ve seen her. I’m sorry for the poor fellow. He was very quiet and never gave any trouble. You could not help liking him. I’m afraid it’s the old story. It’s a mistake to live alone in a place like this. They brood. They get home-sick. The heat is killing. And then one day they can’t stand it any more, and they just put a bullet through their heads. I’ve seen it before, more than once. Much better to have a little girl to live with you, and it makes hardly any difference to your expenses. Well, gentlemen, I am much obliged to you. I won’t take up any more of your time. You have not been to the
gesellschaft
yet, I believe? We shall be very glad to see you there. You will find all the most important people of the island there from six or seven till nine. It is a jolly place. Quite a social centre. Well, good morning, gentlemen.”

He clicked his heels, shook hands with the doctor and Fred, and stumped somewhat heavily away.

I
N THAT
hot country not much time was permitted to pass between a person’s death and his burial, but in this case the examination had to be conducted, and it was not till latish in the afternoon that the funeral took place. It was attended by a few Dutch friends of Erik, Frith and Dr. Saunders, Fred Blake and Captain Nichols. This was an occasion after the skipper’s heart. He had managed to borrow a black suit from an acquaintance he had made on the island. It did not fit very well, since it belonged to a man both taller and stouter than he, and he was obliged to turn up the trousers and the sleeves, but in contrast with the others, clad in nondescript fashion, it produced a satisfactory note of respectability. The service was conducted in Dutch, which seemed to Captain Nichols a little out of place, and he could not take part in it, but there was much unction in his deportment; and when it was over he shook hands with the Lutheran pastor and the two or three Dutch officials present as though they had rendered him a personal service, so that they thought for a moment he must be a near relative of the deceased. Fred wept.

The four Britishers walked back together. They came to the harbour.

“If you gentlemen will come on board the
Fenton
,” said the skipper, “I’ll open a bottle of port for you. I ’appened to see it in the store this mornin’, and I always think a bottle of port’s the right thing after a funeral. I mean, it’s not like beer and whisky. There’s somethin’ serious about port.”

“I never thought of it before,” said Frith, “but I quite see what you mean.”

“I’m not coming,” said Fred. “I’ve got a hump. Can I go along with you, doctor?”

“If you like.”

“We’ve all got a ’ump,” said Captain Nichols. “That’s why I vote we ’ave a bottle of port. It won’t take the ’ump away. Not by any manner of means. It’ll make it worse if anythin’, at least that’s my experience, but it means you can enjoy it, if you follow me, you get something out of it, and it’s not wasted.”

“Go to hell,” said Fred.

“Come on, Frith. If you’re the man I take you for, you and me can drink a bottle of port without strainin’ ourselves.”

“We live in degenerate days,” said Frith. “Two-bottle men, three-bottle men, they’re as extinct as the dodo.”

“An Australian bird,” said Captain Nichols.

“If two grown men can’t drink one bottle of port between them I despair of the human race. Babylon is fallen, is fallen.”

“Exactly,” replied Captain Nichols.

They got into the dinghy and a blackfellow rowed them out to the
Fenton
. The doctor and Fred walked slowly on. When they reached the hotel they went in.

“Let’s go to your room,” said Fred.

The doctor poured himself out a whisky and soda and gave one to Fred.

“We’re sailing at dawn,” said the boy.

“Are you? Have you seen Louise?”

“No.”

“Aren’t you going to?”

“No.”

Dr. Saunders shrugged his shoulders. It was no business of his. For a while they drank and smoked in silence.

“I’ve told you so much,” the boy said at last, “I may as well tell you the rest.”

“I’m not curious.”

“I’ve wanted to tell someone badly. Sometimes I could hardly prevent myself from telling Nichols. Thank God, I wasn’t such a fool as that. Grand opportunity for blackmail it would have been for him.”

“He isn’t the sort of man I’d choose to confide a secret to.”

Fred gave a little derisive chuckle.

“It wasn’t my fault, really. It was just rotten luck. It is bloody that your life should be ruined by an accident like that. It’s so damned unfair. My people are in a very good position. I was in one of the best firms in Sydney. Eventually, my old man was going to buy me a partnership. He’s got a lot of influence and he could have thrown business in my way. I could have made plenty of money and sooner or later of course I should have married and settled down. I expect I should have gone into politics like father did. If ever anyone had a chance I had. And look at me now. No home, no name, no prospects, a couple of hundred pounds in my belt and whatever the old man’s sent to Batavia. Not a friend in the world.”

“You’ve got youth. You’ve got some education. And you’re not bad looking.”

“That’s what makes me laugh. If I’d had a squint in my eye or a hump-back I’d have been all right. I’d be in Sydney now. You’re no beauty, doctor.”

“I am conscious of the fact and resigned to it.”

“Resigned to it! Thank your lucky stars every day of your life.”

Dr. Saunders smiled.

“I’m not prepared to go as far as that.”

But the foolish boy was desperately serious.

“I don’t want you to think I’m conceited. God knows
I’ve got nothing to be conceited about. But you know, I’ve always been able to get any girl I wanted to. Oh, almost since I was a kid. I thought it rather a lark. After all, you’re only young once. I didn’t see why I shouldn’t have all the fun I could get. D’you blame me?”

“No. The only people who would are those who never had your opportunities.”

“I never went out of my way to get them. But when they practically asked for it, well, I should have been a fool not to take what I could get. It used to make me laugh sometimes to see them all in a dither and often I’d pretend I didn’t notice. They’d get furious with me. Girls are funny, you know, nothing makes them so mad as a chap standing off. Of course, I never let it interfere with my work; I’m not a fool, you know, in any sense of the word, and I wanted to get on.”

“An only child, were you?”

“No. I’ve got a brother. He went into the business with father. He’s married. And I’ve got a married sister, too.

“Well, one Sunday last year, a chap brought his wife to spend the day up at our house. His name was Hudson. He was a Roman Catholic, and he’d got a lot of influence with the Irish and the Italians. Father said he could make all the difference at the election, and he told mother she was to do them proud. They came up to
dinner, the Premier came and brought his wife, and mother gave them enough to eat to feed a regiment. After dinner father took them into his den to talk business and the rest of us went and sat in the garden. I’d wanted to go fishing, but father said I’d got to stay and make myself civil. Mother and Mrs. Barnes had been at school together.”

“Who was Mrs. Barnes?”

“Mr. Barnes is the Premier. He’s the biggest man in Australia.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“They always had a lot to talk about. They tried to be polite to Mrs. Hudson, but I could see they didn’t much like her. She was doing her best to be nice to them, admiring everything and buttering them up, but the more she laid it on the less they liked it. At last, mother asked me if I wouldn’t show her round the garden. We strolled off and the first thing she said was: ‘For God’s sake give me a cigarette.’ She gave me a look when I lit it for her and she said: ‘You’re a very good-looking boy.’ ‘D’you think so?’ I said. ‘I suppose you’ve been told that before?’ she said. ‘Only by mother,’ I said, ‘and I thought perhaps she was prejudiced.’ She asked me if I was fond of dancing and I said I was, so she said she was having tea at the Australia next day and if I liked to come in after the office we could have a dance together. I wasn’t keen on it, so I said I couldn’t; then
she said: ‘What about Tuesday or Wednesday?’ I couldn’t very well say I was engaged both days, so I said Tuesday would suit me all right; and when they’d gone away I told father and mother. She didn’t much like the idea, but father was all for it. He said it wouldn’t suit his book at all to have us stand-offish. ‘I didn’t like the way she kept on looking at him,’ said mother, but father told her not to be silly. ‘Why, she’s old enough to be his mother,’ he said. ‘How old is she?’ Mother said: ‘She’ll never see forty again.’