within the tides-第33部分

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to　get　his　tiffin　here。　　But　he　had。　　Most　likely　had　rooked



somebody　of　a　few　dollars　at　cards　overnight。　　He　was　a　bright



creature　of　the　name　of　Fector；　a　spare；　short；　jumpy　fellow　with　a



red　face　and　muddy　eyes。　　He　described　himself　as　a　journalist　as



certain　kind　of　women　give　themselves　out　as　actresses　in　the　dock



of　a　police…court。







〃He　used　to　introduce　himself　to　strangers　as　a　man　with　a　mission



to　track　out　abuses　and　fight　them　whenever　found。　　He　would　also



hint　that　he　was　a　martyr。　　And　it's　a　fact　that　he　had　been



kicked；　horsewhipped；　imprisoned；　and　hounded　with　ignominy　out　of



pretty　well　every　place　between　Ceylon　and　Shanghai；　for　a



professional　blackmailer。







〃I　suppose；　in　that　trade；　you've　got　to　have　active　wits　and　sharp



ears。　　It's　not　likely　that　he　overheard　every　word　Davidson　said



about　his　dollar　collecting　trip；　but　he　heard　enough　to　set　his



wits　at　work。







〃He　let　Davidson　go　out；　and　then　hastened　away　down　to　the　native



slums　to　a　sort　of　lodging…house　kept　in　partnership　by　the　usual



sort　of　Portuguese　and　a　very　disreputable　Chinaman。　　Macao　Hotel；



it　was　called；　but　it　was　mostly　a　gambling　den　that　one　used　to



warn　fellows　against。　　Perhaps　you　remember？







〃There；　the　evening　before；　Fector　had　met　a　precious　couple；　a



partnership　even　more　queer　than　the　Portuguese　and　the　Chinaman。



One　of　the　two　was　Niclaus　…　you　know。　　Why！　the　fellow　with　a



Tartar　moustache　and　a　yellow　complexion；　like　a　Mongolian；　only



that　his　eyes　were　set　straight　and　his　face　was　not　so　flat。　　One



couldn't　tell　what　breed　he　was。　　A　nondescript　beggar。　　From　a



certain　angle　you　would　think　a　very　bilious　white　man。　　And　I



daresay　he　was。　　He　owned　a　Malay　prau　and　called　himself　The



Nakhoda；　as　one　would　say：　　The　Captain。　　Aha！　　Now　you　remember。



He　couldn't；　apparently；　speak　any　other　European　language　than



English；　but　he　flew　the　Dutch　flag　on　his　prau。







〃The　other　was　the　Frenchman　without　hands。　　Yes。　　The　very　same　we



used　to　know　in　'79　in　Sydney；　keeping　a　little　tobacco　shop　at　the



lower　end　of　George　Street。　　You　remember　the　huge　carcase　hunched



up　behind　the　counter；　the　big　white　face　and　the　long　black　hair



brushed　back　off　a　high　forehead　like　a　bard's。　　He　was　always



trying　to　roll　cigarettes　on　his　knee　with　his　stumps；　telling



endless　yarns　of　Polynesia　and　whining　and　cursing　in　turn　about



'MON　MALHEUR。'　　His　hands　had　been　blown　away　by　a　dynamite



cartridge　while　fishing　in　some　lagoon。　　This　accident；　I　believe；



had　made　him　more　wicked　than　before；　which　is　saying　a　good　deal。







〃He　was　always　talking　about　'resuming　his　activities'　some　day；



whatever　they　were；　if　he　could　only　get　an　intelligent　companion。



It　was　evident　that　the　little　shop　was　no　field　for　his



activities；　and　the　sickly　woman　with　her　face　tied　up；　who　used　to



look　in　sometimes　through　the　back　door；　was　no　companion　for　him。







〃And；　true　enough；　he　vanished　from　Sydney　before　long；　after　some



trouble　with　the　Excise　fellows　about　his　stock。　　Goods　stolen　out



of　a　warehouse　or　something　similar。　　He　left　the　woman　behind；　but



he　must　have　secured　some　sort　of　companion　…　he　could　not　have



shifted　for　himself；　but　whom　he　went　away　with；　and　where；　and



what　other　companions　he　might　have　picked　up　afterwards；　it　is



impossible　to　make　the　remotest　guess　about。







〃Why　exactly　he　came　this　way　I　can't　tell。　　Towards　the　end　of　my



time　here　we　began　to　hear　talk　of　a　maimed　Frenchman　who　had　been



seen　here　and　there。　　But　no　one　knew　then　that　he　had　foregathered



with　Niclaus　and　lived　in　his　prau。　　I　daresay　he　put　Niclaus　up　to



a　thing　or　two。　　Anyhow；　it　was　a　partnership。　　Niclaus　was



somewhat　afraid　of　the　Frenchman　on　account　of　his　tempers；　which



were　awful。　　He　looked　then　like　a　devil；　but　a　man　without　hands；



unable　to　load　or　handle　a　weapon；　can　at　best　go　for　one　only　with



his　teeth。　　From　that　danger　Niclaus　felt　certain　he　could　always



defend　himself。







〃The　couple　were　alone　together　loafing　in　the　common…room　of　that



infamous　hotel　when　Fector　turned　up。　　After　some　beating　about　the



bush；　for　he　was　doubtful　how　far　he　could　trust　these　two；　he



repeated　what　he　had　overheard　in　the　tiffin…rooms。







〃His　tale　did　not　have　much　success　till　he　came　to　mention　the



creek　and　Bamtz's　name。　　Niclaus；　sailing　about　like　a　native　in　a



prau；　was；　in　his　own　words；　'familiar　with　the　locality。'　　The



huge　Frenchman；　walking　up　and　down　the　room　with　his　stumps　in　the



pockets　of　his　jacket；　stopped　short　in　surprise。　　'COMMENT？



BAMTZ！　　BAMTZ！'







〃He　had　run　across　him　several　times　in　his　life。　　He　exclaimed：



'BAMTZ！　　MAIS　JE　NE　CONNAIS　QUE　CA！'　　And　he　applied　such　a



contemptuously　indecent　epithet　to　Bamtz　that　when；　later；　he



alluded　to　him　as　'UNE　CHIFFE'　（a　mere　rag）　it　sounded　quite



complimentary。　　'We　can　do　with　him　what　we　like；'　he　asserted



confidently。　　'Oh；　yes。　　Certainly　we　must　hasten　to　pay　a　visit　to



that　…　'　（another　awful　descriptive　epithet　quite　unfit　for



repetition）。　　'Devil　take　me　if　we　don't　pull　off　a　coup　that　will



set　us　all　up　for　a　long　time。'







〃He　saw　all　that　lot　of　dollars　melted　into　bars　and　disposed　of



somewhere　on　the　China　coast。　　Of　the　escape　after　the　COUP　he



never　doubted。　　There　was　Niclaus's　prau　to　manage　that　in。







〃In　his　enthusiasm　he　pulled　his　stumps　out　of　his　pockets　and



waved　them　about。　　Then；　catching　sight　of　them；　as　it　were；　he



held　them　in　front　of　his　eyes；　cursing　and　blaspheming　and



bewailing　his　misfortune　and　his　helplessness；　till　Niclaus　quieted



him　down。







〃But　it　was　his　mind　that　planned　out　the　affair　and　it　was　his



spirit　which　carried　the　other　two　on。　　Neither　of　them　was　of　the



bold　buccaneer　type；　and　Fector；　especially；　had　never　in　his



adventurous　life　used　other　weapons　than　slander　and　lies。







〃That　very　evening　they　departed　on　a　visit　to　Bamtz　in　Niclaus's



prau；　which　had　been　lying；　emptied　of　her　cargo　of　cocoanuts；　for



a　day　or　two　under　the　canal　bridge。　　They　must　have　crossed　the



bows　of　the　anchored　Sissie；　and　no　doubt　looked　at　her　with



interest　as　the　scene　of　their　future　exploit；　the　great　haul；　LE



GRAND　COUP！







〃Davidson's　wife；　to　his　great　surprise；　sulked　with　him　for



several　days　before　he　left。　　I　don't　know　whether　it　occurred　to



him　that；　for　all　her　angelic　profile；　she　was　a　very　stupidly



obstinate　girl。　　She　didn't　like　the　tropics。　　He　had　brought　her



out　there；　where　she　had　no　friends；　and　now；　she　said；　he　was



becoming　inconsiderate。　　She　had　a　presentiment　of　some　misfortune；



and　notwithstanding　Davidson's　painstaking　explanations；　she　could



not　see　why　her　presentiments　were　to　be　disregarded。　　On　the　very



last　evening　before　Davidson　went　away　she　asked　him　in　a



suspicious　manner：







〃'Why　is　it　that　you　are　so　anxious　to　go　this　time？'







〃'I　am　not　anxious；'　protested　the　good　Davidson。　　'I　simply　can't



help　myself。　　There's　no　one　else　to　go　in　my　place。'







〃'Oh！　　There's　no　one；'　she　said；　turning　away　slowly。







〃She　was　so　distant　with　him　that　evening　that　Davidson　from　a



sense　of　delicacy　made　up　his　mind　to　say　good…bye　to　her　at　once



and　go　and　sleep　on　board。　　He　felt　very　miserable　and；　strangely



enough；　more　on　his　own　account　than　on　account　of　his　wife。　　She



seemed　to　him　much　more　offended　than　grieved。







〃Three　weeks　later；　having　collected　a　good　many　cases　of　old



dollars　（they　were　stowed　aft　in　the　lazarette　with　an　iron　bar　and



a　padlock　securing　the　hatch　under　his　cabin…table）；　yes；　with　a



bigger　lot　than　he　had　expected　to　collect；　he　found　himself



homeward　bound　and　off　the　entrance　of　the　creek　where　Bamtz　lived



and　even；　in　a　sense；　flourished。







〃It　was　so　late　in　the　day　that　Davidson　actually　hesitated　whether



he　should　not　pass　by　this　time。　　He　had　no　regard　for　Bamtz；　who



was　a　degraded　but　not　a　really　unhappy　man。　　His　pity　for　Laughing



Anne　was　no　more　than　her　case　deserved。　　But　his　goodness　was　of　a



particularly　delicate　sort。　　He　realised　how　these　people　were



dependent　on　him；　and　how　they　would　feel　their　dependence　（if　he



failed　to　turn　up）　through　a　long　month　of　anxious　waiting。



Prompted　by　his　sensitive　humanity；　Davidson；　in　the　gathering



dusk；　turned　the　Sissie's　head　towards　the　hardly　discernible



coast；　and　navigated　her　safety　through　a　maze　of　shallow　patches。



But　by　the　time　he　got　to　the　mouth　of　the　creek　the　night　had



come。







〃The　narrow　waterway　lay　like　a　black　cutting　through　the　forest。



And　as　there　were　always　grounded　snaggs　in　the　channel　which　it



would　be　impossible　to　make　out；　Davidson　very　prudently　turned　the



Sissie　round；　and　with　only　enough　steam　on　the　boilers　to　give　her



a　touch　ahead　if　necessary；　let　her　drift　up　stern　first　with　the



tide；　silent　and　invisible　in　the　impenetrable　darkness　and　in　the



dumb　stillness。







〃It　was　a　long　job；　and　when　at　the　end　of　two　hours　Davidson



thought　he　must　be　up　to　the　clearing；　the　settlement　slept



already；　the　whole　land　of　forests　and　rivers　was　asleep。







〃Davidson；　seeing　a　solitary　light　in　the　massed　darkness　of　the



shore；　knew　that　it　was　burning　in　Bamtz's　house。　　This　was



unexpected　at　this　time　of　the　night；　but　convenient　as　a　guide。



By　a　turn　of　the　screw　and　a　touch　of　the　helm　he　sheered　the



Sissie　alongside　Bamtz's　wharf　…　a　miserable　structure　of　a　dozen



piles　and　a　few　planks；　of　which　the　ex…vagabond　was　very　proud。　　A



couple　of　Kalashes　jumped　down　on　it；　took　a　turn　with　the　ropes



thrown　to　them　round　the　posts；　and　the　Sissie