The Pagan Madonna Read online

  CHAPTER XI

  That first dinner would always remain vivid and clear-cut in Jane Norman'smind. It was fantastic. To begin with, there was that picturesque stoneimage at the head of the table--Cleigh--who appeared utterly oblivious ofhis surroundings, who ate with apparent relish, and who ignored both men,his son and his captor. Once or twice Jane caught his glance--a blue eye,sharp-pupiled, agate-hard. But what was it she saw--a twinkle or asparkle? The breadth of his shoulders! He must be very powerful, like theson. Why, the two of them could have pulverized this pretty fellowopposite!

  Father and son! For seven years they had not met. Their indifferenceseemed so inhuman! Still, she fancied that the son dared not make anyapproach, however much he may have longed to. A woman! They had quarrelledover a woman! Something reached down from the invisible and pinched herheart.

  All this while Cunningham had been talking--banter. The blade would flashtoward the father or whirl upon the son, or it would come toward her bythe handle. She could not get away from the initial idea--that his eyeswere like fire opals.

  "Miss Norman, you have very beautiful hair."

  "You think so?"

  "It looks like Judith's. You remember, Cleigh, the one that hangs in thePitti Galleria in Florence--Allori's?"

  Cleigh reached for a piece of bread, which he broke and buttered.

  Cunningham turned to Jane again.

  "Will you do me the favour of taking out the hairpins and loosing it?"

  "No!" said Dennison.

  "Why not?" said Jane, smiling bravely enough, though there ran over herspine a chill.

  It wasn't Cunningham's request--it was Dennison's refusal. That syllable,though spoken moderately, was the essence of battle, murder, and suddendeath. If they should clash it would mean that Denny--how easy it was tocall him that!--Denny would be locked up and she would be all alone. Forthe father seemed as aloof and remote as the pole.

  "You shall not do it!" declared Dennison. "Cunningham, if you force her Iwill break every bone in your body here and now!"

  Cleigh selected an olive and began munching it.

  "Nonsense!" cried Jane. "It's all awry anyhow." And she began to extractthe hairpins. Presently she shook her head, and the ruddy mass of hairfell and rippled across and down her shoulders.

  "Well?" she said, looking whimsically into Cunningham's eyes. "It wasn'tthere, was it?"

  This tickled Cunningham.

  "You're a woman in a million! You read my thought perfectly. I like readywit in a woman. I had to find out. You see, I had promised those beads toCleigh, and when I humanly can I keep my promises. Sit down, captain!" ForDennison had risen to his feet. "Sit down! Don't start anything you can'tfinish." To Jane there was in the tone a quality which made her compare itwith the elder Cleigh's eyes--agate-hard. "You are younger and stronger,and no doubt you could break me. But the moment my hand is withdrawn fromthis business--the moment I am off the board--I could not vouch for thecrew. They are more or less decent chaps, or they were before this damnedwar stood humanity on its head. We wear the same clothes, use the samephrases; but we've been thrust back a thousand years. And Miss Norman is awoman. You understand?"

  Dennison sat down.

  "You'd better kill me somewhere along this voyage."

  "I may have to. Who knows? There's no real demarcation between comedy andtragedy; it's the angle of vision. It's rough medicine, this; but yourfather has agreed to take it sensibly, because he knows me tolerably well.Still, it will not do him any good to plan bribery. Buy the crew, Cleigh,if you believe you can. You'll waste your time. I do not pretend to holdthem by loyalty. I hold them by fear. Act sensibly, all of you, and thiswill be a happy family. For after all, it's a joke, a whale of a joke. Andsome day you'll smile over it--even you, Cleigh."

  Cleigh pressed the steward's button.

  "The jam and the cheese, Togo," he said to the Jap.

  "Yess, sair!"

  A hysterical laugh welled into Jane's throat, but she did not permit it toescape her lips. She began to build up her hair clumsily, because herhands trembled.

  Adventure! She thrilled! She had read somewhere that after seven thousandyears of tortuous windings human beings had formed about themselves a thinshell which they called civilization. And always someone was breakingthrough and retracing those seven thousand years. Here was an example inCunningham. Only a single step was necessary. It took seven thousand yearsto build your shell, and only a minute to destroy it. There was somethingfascinating in the thought. A reckless spirit pervaded Jane, a longing toburst through this shell of hers and ride the thunderbolt. Monotony--thathad been her portion, and only her dreams had kept her from withering.From the house to the hospital and back home again, days, weeks, years.She had begun to hate white; her soul thirsted for colour, movement,thrill. The call that had been walled in, suppressed, broke through.Piracy on high seas, and Jane Norman in the cast!

  She was not in the least afraid of the whimsical rogue opposite. He wasmore like an uninvited dinner guest. Perhaps this lack of fear had itsorigin in the oily smoothness by which the yacht had changed hands. Beyondthe subjugation of Dodge, there had not been a ripple of commotion. It wastoo early to touch the undercurrents. All this lulled and deceived her.Piracy? Where were the cutlasses, the fierce moustaches, the redbandannas, the rattle of dice, and the drunken songs?--the piracy oftradition? If she had any fear at all it was for the man at herleft--Denny--who might run amuck on her account and spoil everything. Allher life she would hear the father's voice--"The jam and the cheese,Togo." What men, all three of them!

  Cunningham laid his napkin on the table and stood up.

  "Absolute personal liberty, if you will accept the situation sensibly."

  Dennison glowered at him, but Jane reached out and touched the soldier'ssleeve.

  "Please!"

  "For your sake, then. But it's tough medicine for me to swallow."

  "To be sure it is," agreed the rogue. "Look upon me as a supercargo forthe next ten days. You'll see me only at lunch and dinner. I've a lot ofwork to do in the chart house. By the way, the wireless man is mine,Cleigh, so don't waste any time on him. Hope you're a good sailor, MissNorman, for we are heading into rough weather, and we haven't much beam."

  "I love the sea!"

  "Hang it, you and I shan't have any trouble! Good-night."

  Cunningham limped to the door, where he turned and eyed the elder Cleigh,who was stirring his coffee thoughtfully. Suddenly the rogue burst into agale of laughter, and they could hear recurrent bursts as he wended hisway to the companion.

  When this sound died away Cleigh turned his glance levelly upon Jane. Thestone-like mask dissolved into something that was pathetically human.

  "Miss Norman," he said, "I don't know what we are heading into, but if weever get clear I will make any reparation you may demand."

  "Any kind of a reparation?"--an eager note in her voice.

  Dennison stared at her, puzzled, but almost instantly he was conscious ofthe warmth of shame in his cheeks. This girl wasn't that sort--to ask formoney as a balm for the indignity offered her. What was she after?

  "Any kind of reparation," repeated Cleigh.

  "I'll remember that--if we get through. And somehow I believe we shall."

  "You trust that scoundrel?" asked Cleigh, astonishedly.

  "Inexplicably--yes."

  "Because he happens to be handsome?"--with frank irony.

  "No." But she looked at the son as she spoke. "He said he never broke hisword. No man can be a very great villain who can say that. Did he everbreak his word to you?"

  "Except in this instance."

  "The beads?"

  "I am quite confident he knows where they are."

  "Are they so precious? What makes them precious?"

  "I have told you--they are love beads."

  "That's rank nonsense! I'm no child!"

  "Isn't love rank nonsense?" Cleigh countered. He was something of abanterer himself.

  "Have
you never loved anybody?" she shot back at him.

  A shadow passed over the man's face, clearing the ironic expression.

  "Perhaps I loved not wisely but too well."

  "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean----"

  "You are young; all about you is sunshine; I myself have gone down amongthe shadows. Cunningham may keep his word; but there is always thepossibility of his not being able to keep it. He has become an outlaw; heis in maritime law a pirate. The crew are aware of it; prison stares themin the face, and that may make them reckless. If you weren't on board Ishouldn't care. But you are young, vital, attractive, of the type thatappeals to strong men. In the dry stores there are many cases of liquorand wine. The men may break into the stuff before we reach the Catwick.That will take ten or twelve days if Cunningham lays a course outsideFormosa. What's his game? I don't know. Probably he will maroon us on theCatwick, an island I know nothing about, except that it is nearer toSaigon than to Singapore. So then in the daytime stay where I am or whereCaptain Dennison is. Good-night."

  Dennison balanced his spoon on the rim of the coffee cup--not aparticularly easy job.

  "Whatever shall I do with the jade?" Jane asked, irrelevantly.

  "What?"

  "The jade necklace. That poor Chinaman!"

  "Ling Foo? I wish I had broken his infernal yellow neck! But for himneither of us would be here. But he is right," Dennison added, with a jerkof his head toward the door. "You must always be with one or the other ofus--preferably me." He smiled.

  "Will you promise me one thing?"

  "Denny."

  "Will you promise me one thing, Denny?"

  "And that is not to attempt to mix it with the scoundrel?"

  "Yes."

  "I promise--so long as he keeps his. But if he touches you--well, God helphim!"

  "And me! Oh, I don't mean him. It is you that I am afraid of. You're soterribly strong--and--and so heady. I can never forget how you went intothat mob of quarrelling troopers. But you were an officer there; youruniform doesn't count here. If only you and your father stood together!"

  "We do so far as you are concerned. Never doubt that. Otherwise, though,it's hopeless. What are you going to demand of him--supposing we comethrough safely?"

  "That's my secret. Let's go on deck."

  "It's raining hard, and there'll be a good deal of pitching shortly.Better turn in. You've been through enough to send the average woman intohysterics."

  "It won't be possible to sleep."

  "I grant that, but I'd rather you would go at once to your cabin."

  "I wonder if you will understand. I'm not really afraid. I know I ought tobe, but I'm not. All my life has been a series of humdrum--and here isadventure, stupendous adventure!" She rose abruptly, holding out her armsdramatically toward space. "All my life I have lived in a shell, andchance has cracked it. If only you knew how wonderfully free I feel atthis moment! I want to go on deck, to feel the wind and the rain in myface!"

  "Go to bed," he said, prosaically.

  Though never had she appeared so poignantly desirable. He wanted to seizeher in his arms, smother her with kisses, bury his face in her hair. Andswiftly upon this desire came the thought that if she appealed to him sostrongly, might she not appeal quite as strongly to the rogue? He laid thespoon on the rim of the cup again and teetered it.

  "Go to bed," he repeated.

  "An order?"

  "An order. I'll go along with you to the cabin. Come!" He got up.

  "Can you tell me you're not excited?"

  "I am honestly terrified. I'd give ten years of my life if you were safelyout of this. For seven long years I have been knocking about this world,and among other things I have learned that plans like Cunningham's neverget through per order. I don't know what the game is, but it's bound tofail. So I'm going to ask you, in God's name, not to let any romanticalideas get into your head. This is bad business for all of us."

  There was something in his voice, aside from the genuine seriousness, thatsubdued her.

  "I'll go to bed. Shall we have breakfast together?"

  "Better that way."

  To reach the port passage they had to come out into the main salon. Cleighwas in his corner reading.

  "Good-night," she called. All her bitterness toward him was gone. "Anddon't worry about me."

  "Good-night," replied Cleigh over the top of the book. "Be sure of yourdoor. If you hear any untoward sounds in the night call to the captainwhose cabin adjoins yours."

  When she and Dennison arrived at the door of her cabin she turnedimpulsively and gave him both her hands. He held them lightly, because hisemotions were at full tide, and he did not care to have her sense it inany pressure. Her confidence in him now was absolute, and he must guardhimself constantly. Poor fool! Why hadn't he told her that last night onthe British transport? What had held him back?

  The uncertain future--he had let that rise up between. And now he couldnot tell her. If she did not care, if her regard did not go beyondcomradeship, the knowledge would only distress her.

  The yacht was beginning to roll now, for they were making the East ChinaSea. The yacht rolled suddenly to starboard, and Jane fell against him. Hecaught her, instantly turned her right about and gently but firmly forcedher into the cabin.

  "Good-night. Remember! Rap on the partition if you hear anything you don'tlike."

  "I promise."

  After she had locked and latched the door she set about the business ofemptying her kit bags. She hung the evening gown she had worn all day inthe locker, laid her toilet articles on the dresser, and set the brasshand warmer on the lowboy. Then she let down her hair and began to brushit. She swung a thick strand of it over her shoulder and ran her hand downunder it. The woman in "Phra the Phoenician," Allori's Judith--and she hadalways hated the colour of it! She once more applied the brush, balancingherself nicely to meet the ever-increasing roll.

  Nevertheless, she did feel free, freer than she had felt in all her lifebefore. A stupendous adventure! After the braids were completed she flungthem down her back, turned off the light, and peered out of therain-blurred port. She could see nothing except an occasional flash ofangry foam as it raced past. She slipped into bed, but her eyes remainedopen for a long time.

  Dennison wondered if there would be a slicker in his old locker. He openedthe door. He found an oilskin and a yellow sou'wester on the hooks. Hetook them down and put them on and stole out carefully, a hand extendedeach side to minimize the roll. He navigated the passage and came out intothe salon.

  Cleigh was still immersed in his book. He looked up quickly, butrecognizing the intruder, dropped his gaze instantly. Dennison crossed thesalon to the companionway and staggered up the steps. Had his father everreally been afraid of anything? He could not remember ever having seen theold boy in the grip of fear. What a devil of a world it was!

  Dennison was an able seaman. He had been brought up on the sea--sevenyears on the first _Wanderer_ and five on the second. He had, in companywith his father, ridden the seven seas. But he had no trade; he hadn't themoney instinct; he would have to stumble upon fortune; he knew no way ofmaking it. And this knowledge stirred his rancor anew--the father hadn'tplayed fair with the son.

  He gripped the deck-house rail to steady himself, for the wind and raincaught him head-on.

  Then he worked his way slowly along to the bridge. Twice a comber broke onthe quarter and dropped a ton of water, which sloshed about the deck,drenching his feet. He climbed the ladder, rather amused at the recurrenceof an old thought--that climbing ship ladders in dirty weather was a gooddeal like climbing in nightmares: one weighed thousands of pounds and hadfeet of lead.

  Presently he peered into the chart room, which was dark except for thesmall hooded bulbs over the navigating instruments. He could see the chinand jaws of the wheelman and the beard of old Captain Newton. From time totime a wheel spoke came into the light.

  On the chart table lay a pocket lamp, facing sternward, the light pouringupon what l
ooked to be a map; and over it were bent three faces, one ofwhich was Cunningham's. A forefinger was tracing this map.

  Dennison opened the door and stepped inside.