Part 27 (1/2)
”See here, Bananas,” he said to him, fixing his spectacles on his slippery nose, for it was very hot. ”I ain't going to fire you for this, but you know now that when I hit, I hit hard. Don't forget it and don't let me have any more funny business.”
Then he held out his hand and gave the mate that good-humoured, flas.h.i.+ng smile of his which was his greatest charm. The mate took the outstretched hand and twitched his swollen lips into a devilish grin.
The incident in the captain's mind was so completely finished that when the three of them sat at dinner he chaffed Bananas on his appearance. He was eating with difficulty and, his swollen face still more distorted by pain, he looked truly a repulsive object.
That evening, when he was sitting on the upper deck, smoking his pipe, a s.h.i.+ver pa.s.sed through the captain.
”I don't know what I should be s.h.i.+verin' for on a night like this,” he grumbled. ”Maybe I've gotten a dose of fever. I've been feelin' a bit queer all day.”
When he went to bed he took some quinine, and next morning he felt better, but a little washed out, as though he were recovering from a debauch.
”I guess my liver's out of order,” he said, and he took a pill.
He had not much appet.i.te that day and towards evening he began to feel very unwell. He tried the next remedy he knew, which was to drink two or three hot whiskies, but that did not seem to help him much, and when in the morning he surveyed himself in the gla.s.s he thought he was not looking quite the thing.
”If I ain't right by the time we get back to Honolulu I'll just give Dr Denby a call. He'll sure fix me up.”
He could not eat. He felt a great la.s.situde in all his limbs. He slept soundly enough, but he awoke with no sense of refreshment; on the contrary he felt a peculiar exhaustion. And the energetic little man, who could not bear the thought of lying in bed, had to make an effort to force himself out of his bunk. After a few days he found it impossible to resist the languor that oppressed him, and he made up his mind not to get up.
”Bananas can look after the s.h.i.+p,” he said. ”He has before now.”
He laughed a little to himself as he thought how often he had lain speechless in his bunk after a night with the boys. That was before he had his girl. He smiled at her and pressed her hand. She was puzzled and anxious. He saw that she was concerned about him and tried to rea.s.sure her. He had never had a day's illness in his life and in a week at the outside he would be as right as rain.
”I wish you'd fired Bananas,” she said. ”I've got a feeling that he's at the bottom of this.”
”d.a.m.ned good thing I didn't, or there'd be no one to sail the s.h.i.+p. I know a good sailor when I see one.” His blue eyes, rather pale now, with the whites all yellow, twinkled. ”You don't think he's trying to poison me, little girl?”
She did not answer, but she had one or two talks with the Chinese cook, and she took great care with the captain's food. But he ate little enough now, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that she persuaded him to drink a cup of soup two or three times a day. It was clear that he was very ill, he was losing weight quickly, and his chubby face was pale and drawn. He suffered no pain, but merely grew every day weaker and more languid. He was wasting away. The round trip on this occasion lasted about four weeks and by the time they came to Honolulu the captain was a little anxious about himself. He had not been out of his bed for more than a fortnight and really he felt too weak to get up and go to the doctor. He sent a message asking him to come on board. The doctor examined him, but could find nothing to account for his condition. His temperature was normal.
”See here, Captain,” he said, ”I'll be perfectly frank with you. I don't know what's the matter with you, and just seeing you like this don't give me a chance. You come into the hospital so that we can keep you under observation. There's nothing organically wrong with you, I know that, and my impression is that a few weeks in hospital ought to put you to rights.”
”I ain't going to leave my s.h.i.+p.”
Chinese owners were queer customers, he said; if he left his s.h.i.+p because he was sick, his owner might fire him, and he couldn't afford to lose his job. So long as he stayed where he was his contract safe-guarded him, and he had a first-rate mate. Besides, he couldn't leave his girl. No man could want a better nurse; if anyone could pull him through she would. Every man had to die once and he only wished to be left in peace. He would not listen to the doctor's expostulations, and finally the doctor gave in.
”I'll write you a prescription,” he said doubtfully, ”and see if it does you any good. You'd better stay in bed for a while.”
”There ain't much fear of my getting up, doc,” answered the captain. ”I feel as weak as a cat.”
But he believed in the doctor's prescription as little as did the doctor himself, and when he was alone amused himself by lighting his cigar with it. He had to get amus.e.m.e.nt out of something, for his cigar tasted like nothing on earth, and he smoked only to persuade himself that he was not too ill to. That evening a couple of friends of his, masters of tramp steamers, hearing he was sick came to see him. They discussed his case over a bottle of whisky and a box of Philippine cigars. One of them remembered how a mate of his had been taken queer just like that and not a doctor in the United States had been able to cure him. He had seen in the paper an advertis.e.m.e.nt of a patent medicine, and thought there'd be no harm in trying it. That man was as strong as ever he'd been in his life after two bottles. But his illness had given Captain Butler a lucidity which was new and strange, and while they talked he seemed to read their minds. They thought he was dying. And when they left him he was afraid.
The girl saw his weakness. This was her opportunity. She had been urging him to let a native doctor see him, and he had stoutly refused; but now she entreated him. He listened with hara.s.sed eyes. He wavered. It was very funny that the American doctor could not tell what was the matter with him. But he did not want her to think that he was scared. If he let a d.a.m.ned n.i.g.g.e.r come along and look at him, it was to comfort _her_. He told her to do what she liked.
The native doctor came the next night. The captain was lying alone, half awake, and the cabin was dimly lit by an oil lamp. The door was softly opened and the girl came in on tip-toe. She held the door open and some one slipped in silently behind her. The captain smiled at this mystery, but he was so weak now, the smile was no more than a glimmer in his eyes. The doctor was a little, old man, very thin and very wrinkled, with a completely bald head, and the face of a monkey. He was bowed and gnarled like an old tree. He looked hardly human, but his eyes were very bright, and in the half darkness, they seemed to glow with a reddish light. He was dressed filthily in a pair of ragged dungarees, and the upper part of his body was naked. He sat down on his haunches and for ten minutes looked at the captain. Then he felt the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet. The girl watched him with frightened eyes. No word was spoken. Then he asked for something that the captain had worn.
The girl gave him the old felt hat which the captain used constantly and taking it he sat down again on the floor, clasping it firmly with both hands; and rocking backwards and forwards slowly he muttered some gibberish in a very low tone.
At last he gave a little sigh and dropped the hat. He took an old pipe out of his trouser pocket and lit it. The girl went over to him and sat by his side. He whispered something to her, and she started violently.
For a few minutes they talked in hurried undertones, and then they stood up. She gave him money and opened the door for him. He slid out as silently as he had come in. Then she went over to the captain and leaned over him so that she could speak into his ear.
”It's an enemy praying you to death.”
”Don't talk fool stuff, girlie,” he said impatiently.