Part 16 (1/2)
Anyway, though the mate became gloomy and sallow-looking as the days went by, Ulysses got redder in the face and even perceptibly fatter. It would have pleased the devoutest hearts could they have seen the modest decorum of Mango Pango's private cabin on the cuddy's port side. Ulysses had made the cabin-boy fix it up in quite artistic style. A little German bronze mirror swung to and fro by the small port-hole, pictures of Biblical subjects decorated the low roof and walls, and all the niceties that a maid might require were to be found in the quickly extemporised apartment.
It must be admitted that the first few days were monotonous and quite unromantic. For a bit of a wind came up and made the _Sea Foam_ heave and lurch. This instability caused poor Mango Pango suddenly to rush from her chamber and groan with anguish as she knelt by the port-side scuppers. She was terribly seasick. Ulysses would give a ponderous, sympathetic wink as she rushed back to her bunk and closed the door of her cabin. Then the little Papuan cabin-boy, Tombo Nuvolo, would stand sentinel just by the saloon port-hole to see that no one quizzed or came near the modest maiden's abode. But Mango Pango soon recovered from her illness, and attired in her pretty blue robe, scarlet and yellow ribbon in her ma.s.s of coral-dyed hair, came out on deck to bask in the hot suns.h.i.+ne.
When Hillary sat down by her side and told her that the _Sea Foam_ was bound for New Guinea, and that Ulysses and he were going in search of Gabrielle Everard, she opened her pretty eyes and mouth in unbounded astonishment and said: ”Awaie!-Wearly! Going in searcher of poor Gabberlel who ams in New Ginner! Never!” And then, while she lifted her hands and uttered her quaint Samoan exclamations (she was born in Apia, Samoa) Hillary told her as much about the reason of the voyage and of all they had heard about Rajah Macka as he thought advisable.
Mango Pango was a real blessing to the apprentice; she was so full of childish vivacity, song and laughter that she dispelled his gloomy thoughts and made him quite cheerful at times. ”Thank heaven that she was fool enough to be persuaded to come on this extraordinary venture,”
thought Hillary, as the girl performed a native step-dance while he fiddled, and didn't appear to trouble about her position in the least.
Samuel Bilbao would stand by, his mighty viking moustachios rippling to the sea-breeze as he sang some romantic strain and gazed admiringly on the dancing Mango Pango, who revelled in his praise. Heaven knows what Bilbao's alleged harem of island Penelopes would have thought could they have seen their absent Ulyssess' ma.s.sive gallantry and the glance of his eyes as Mango danced by the galley amids.h.i.+ps. It is true that several of the sailors made eyes at Mango Pango when Ulysses was having his afternoon nap in the late captain's cosy bunk. And it must be confessed that she didn't seem to take the sailors' advances as though she thought them amiss. But still, she behaved with considerable propriety, and only very slyly blew surrept.i.tious kisses back to the aged bottle-nosed boatswain, Jonathan Snooks, who looked at the dusky maid and said more with his eyes than he should have done, considering that he had a wife in Shanghai and two more in 'Frisco!
What a voyage it was! Hillary thought of England, of his home. ”What would the mater, the governor, my sisters and Uncle William think could they see me sailing across the coral seas to rescue a white girl from the heathen temple of a Papuan Rajah?” He would incline his eyes from the sky-line and look back on the deck of the _Sea Foam_ to convince himself of the reality of it all.
”Don't stand there mooching about with that mournful look on yer ugly mug!” yelled Samuel Bilbao, as he stood there, nearly seven feet high, watching Mango Pango's five feet five inches dancing exquisitely beneath the shaded awning that he'd ordered to be rigged up by the cuddy's private deck. Then he yelled for the cook, demanding that worthy's presence aft to play the accordion and make up the _Sea Foam's_ scratch orchestra for a song and dance. Ulysses began to play his bone clappers (he was a crack hand at the clappers). And it was a sight worth seeing as the crew stood obediently in a semi-circle, opened their bearded mouths and exercised their big, hoa.r.s.e-throated voices to the full extent as they all roared the chorus of old Malayan sea-chanteys till far into the night. And if the pretty Samoan maid, Mango Pango, couldn't dance like a sea-faery, or mermaid, on the _Sea Foam's_ deck, under the full brilliance of the tropic moon, then no one on the seas ever will be able to do so.
Even the remorseful, bilious chief mate opened his mouth, mumbling a belated melody when Ulysses put forth his long arm and conducted the chorus of-
”For I went down South for to see my Sal, Singing Polly-wolly-doodle all the way.”
Then he inclined his ma.s.sive, curly head and, gazing sideways into Mango Pango's delighted eyes, he continued bellowing forth in such tones that the startled sea-birds far out of the night gave a frightened wail:
”Fare thee well, fare thee well, Fare thee well, my Faery Fay; For I'm off to Lousianna for to see my Susiannah, Singing Polly-wolly-doodle all the way!”
So did Samuel Bilbao pa.s.s his spare time on board the _Sea Foam_. There were only one or two cases of insubordination amongst the crew. Ulysses discovered that they'd had several stand-up fights on grog nights. And he was in a fearful rage when he heard of it. For if he had one weakness, it was his mad love of being umpire at a stand-up fight.
Excitement did not always prevail on the _Sea Foam_; sometimes the atmosphere became quite subdued. Hillary would sit for hours dreaming of Gabrielle, Mango Pango dreaming of her late mistress and Ulysses presumably thinking about his melancholy heathen kings and forlorn queens. The weather became terrifically hot. Even the crew became subdued in the heat of that tropic sea. It was only when the stars came out and a tiny breath of wind swept across the calm sea that things began to liven up on board. The sound of a faint, far-off song of England would come from the forecastle. Then Bully Beef, the boatswain's pet dog, would look through the scuppers and bark like a fiend at the mirrored stars that twinkled in the ocean as the _Sea Foam_ plopped and the rigging wailed. It was on such nights that Hillary, Mango and Bilbao would sit together and talk or sing.
One night as the sun was sinking and throwing magic colours over the western sky-line, and the hot winds flapped the sails, making a far-away musical clamour, Hillary sat by the cuddy door reading poems to Ulysses and Mango Pango. As the apprentice read out Byron's _Don Juan_, Ulysses stamped his mighty feet for an encore. Then he read them pa.s.sages from _The Corsair_, till Samuel Bilbao, with hand arched over his blue eyes, fell into a poetic mood, as Hillary's musical voice rippled off:
”She rose, she sprung, she clung to his embrace Till his heart heaved beneath her hidden face, He dared not raise to his that deep-blue eye.”
And when he read out the description of Medora and Conrad's sad farewell-
”Her long fair hair lay floating o'er his arms In all the wildness of dishevell'd charms”-
Ulysses almost wept. Hillary seemed to draw the romance of the sea out of those sparkling stanzas.
”Wish we had the cove who wrote those things on this venture,” said Bilbao; then he added: ”Is it all true? Who wrote 'em?”
”It's all written by Byron; and it's as true as gospel!”
”Byron? Is that the cove's name? I wish we had him here; he and I would hit it well, I know,” muttered Ulysses. Then he leaned forward and sang a song to Mango Pango's pretty eyes, as the youth read on. It was a strange sight to see that romantic swashbuckler of the seas so interested in all that Hillary read, and to hear his critical comments.
The highly coloured, rebellions poetry, written mostly by anaemic youth, did not appeal to Samuel Bilbao at all.
To him adventures came as a matter of course. To be on that vessel bound for New Guinea to rescue a maid in distress did not excite his emotions unduly; it was all in the day's work. Hillary often noticed this fact about Bilbao. The apprentice was astonished at the calm way he spoke of rescuing Gabrielle from the heathen's clutches; of killing Macka and sending his bleached skull, carefully packed up, to old Everard in Bougainville, as a substantial proof that he'd killed the man and rescued the daughter, and so had fulfilled the contract according to terms.
Hillary, as time went on, was inclined to be nervous and impatient, and Mango Pango became extremely superst.i.tious and swore that every shadow was a ghost. As for Ulysses, he roared with laughter about Solomon Island shadows, and when Mango spoke about such things he told her she was ”potty.” It may have been Bilbao's liberality with the cases of champagne that were found down in the lazaret that upset Hillary's nervous system. And if he did take a little more than was good for him he was to be excused, for the weather was terribly muggy and hot at times. Anyhow, Bilbao often cheered him up when he was down in the mouth.
”Don't get down in the mug, boy; we're making headway quick enough. The Rajah and his d.a.m.ned s.h.i.+p are not so far ahead. We'll be in New Guinea before him yet.”
But Hillary knew that Ulysses did not control the winds of heaven. And yet at times it seemed to him that these same winds were blowing in perfect sympathy with his wishes as the _Sea Foam_ went racing before the steady breeze.
On the evening of the eighth day out from Bougainville a typhoon blew the _Sea Foam_ leagues out of her course to the north-west. Ulysses roared forth his oaths as only _he_ could roar, while the crew slashed away at the tackle, endeavouring to relieve the thunderous flappings of the torn sails. Two boats were washed away. The boatswain nearly wept when the huge sea came and washed Bully Beef, his pet dog, overboard.