Chapter XIV--The Martha

by Jack London

　　They were deep in a game of billiards the next morning, after theeleven o'clock breakfast, when Viaburi entered and announced, -

　　"Big fella schooner close up."

　　Even as he spoke, they heard the rumble of chain through hawse-pipe, and from the veranda saw a big black-painted schooner,swinging to her just-caught anchor.

　　"It's a Yankee," Joan cried. "See that bow! Look at thatelliptical stern! Ah, I thought so--" as the Stars and Stripesfluttered to the mast-head.

　　Noa Noah, at Sheldon's direction, ran the Union Jack up the flag-staff.

　　"Now what is an American vessel doing down here?" Joan asked."It's not a yacht, though I'll wager she can sail. Look! Hername! What is it?"

　　"Martha, San Francisco," Sheldon read, looking through thetelescope. "It's the first Yankee I ever heard of in the Solomons.They are coming ashore, whoever they are. And, by Jove, look atthose men at the oars. It's an all-white crew. Now what reasonbrings them here?"

　　"They're not proper sailors," Joan commented. "I'd be ashamed of acrew of black-boys that pulled in such fashion. Look at thatfellow in the bow--the one just jumping out; he'd be more at homeon a cow-pony."

　　The boat's-crew scattered up and down the beach, ranging about witheager curiosity, while the two men who had sat in the stern-sheetsopened the gate and came up the path to the bungalow. One of them,a tall and slender man, was clad in white ducks that fitted himlike a semi-military uniform. The other man, in nondescriptgarments that were both of the sea and shore, and that must havebeen uncomfortably hot, slouched and shambled like an overgrownape. To complete the illusion, his face seemed to sprout in alldirections with a dense, bushy mass of red whiskers, while his eyeswere small and sharp and restless.

　　Sheldon, who had gone to the head of the steps, introduced them toJoan. The bewhiskered individual, who looked like a Scotsman, hadthe Teutonic name of Von Blix, and spoke with a strong Americanaccent. The tall man in the well-fitting ducks, who gave theEnglish name of Tudor--John Tudor--talked purely-enunciated Englishsuch as any cultured American would talk, save for the fact that itwas most delicately and subtly touched by a faint German accent.Joan decided that she had been helped to identify the accent by theshort German-looking moustache that did not conceal the mouth andits full red lips, which would have formed a Cupid's bow but forsome harshness or severity of spirit that had moulded themmasculinely.

　　Von Blix was rough and boorish, but Tudor was gracefully easy ineverything he did, or looked, or said. His blue eyes sparkled andflashed, his clean-cut mobile features were an index to hisslightest shades of feeling and expression. He bubbled withenthusiasms, and his faintest smile or lightest laugh seemedspontaneous and genuine. But it was only occasionally at firstthat he spoke, for Von Blix told their story and stated theirerrand.

　　They were on a gold-hunting expedition. He was the leader, andTudor was his lieutenant. All hands--and there were twenty-eight--were shareholders, in varying proportions, in the adventure.Several were sailors, but the large majority were miners, culledfrom all the camps from Mexico to the Arctic Ocean. It was the oldand ever-untiring pursuit of gold, and they had come to theSolomons to get it. Part of them, under the leadership of Tudor,were to go up the Balesuna and penetrate the mountainous heart ofGuadalcanar, while the Martha, under Von Blix, sailed away forMalaita to put through similar exploration.

　　"And so," said Von Blix, "for Mr. Tudor's expedition we must havesome black-boys. Can we get them from you?"

　　"Of course we will pay," Tudor broke in. "You have only to chargewhat you consider them worth. You pay them six pounds a year,don't you?"

　　"In the first place we can't spare them," Sheldon answered. "Weare short of them on the plantation as it is."

　　"We?" Tudor asked quickly. "Then you are a firm or a partnership?I understood at Guvutu that you were alone, that you had lost yourpartner."

　　Sheldon inclined his head toward Joan, and as he spoke she feltthat he had become a trifle stiff.

　　"Miss Lackland has become interested in the plantation since then.But to return to the boys. We can't spare them, and besides, theywould be of little use. You couldn't get them to accompany youbeyond Binu, which is a short day's work with the boats from here.They are Malaita-men, and they are afraid of being eaten. Theywould desert you at the first opportunity. You could get the Binumen to accompany you another day's journey, through the grass-lands, but at the first roll of the foothills look for them to turnback. They likewise are disinclined to being eaten."

　　"Is it as bad as that?" asked Von Blix.

　　"The interior of Guadalcanar has never been explored," Sheldonexplained. "The bushmen are as wild men as are to be foundanywhere in the world to-day. I have never seen one. I have neverseen a man who has seen one. They never come down to the coast,though their scouting parties occasionally eat a coast native whohas wandered too far inland. Nobody knows anything about them.They don't even use tobacco--have never learned its use. TheAustrian expedition--scientists, you know--got part way in beforeit was cut to pieces. The monument is up the beach there severalmiles. Only one man got back to the coast to tell the tale. Andnow you have all I or any other man knows of the inside ofGuadalcanar."

　　"But gold--have you heard of gold?" Tudor asked impatiently. "Doyou know anything about gold?"

　　Sheldon smiled, while the two visitors hung eagerly upon his words.

　　"You can go two miles up the Balesuna and wash colours from thegravel. I've done it often. There is gold undoubtedly back in themountains."

　　Tudor and Von Blix looked triumphantly at each other.

　　"Old Wheatsheaf's yarn was true, then," Tudor said, and Von Blixnodded. "And if Malaita turns out as well--"

　　Tudor broke off and looked at Joan.

　　"It was the tale of this old beachcomber that brought us here," heexplained. "Von Blix befriended him and was told the secret." Heturned and addressed Sheldon. "I think we shall prove that whitemen have been through the heart of Guadalcanar long before the timeof the Austrian expedition."

　　Sheldon shrugged his shoulders.

　　"We have never heard of it down here," he said simply. Then headdressed Von Blix. "As to the boys, you couldn't use them fartherthan Binu, and I'll lend you as many as you want as far as that.How many of your party are going, and how soon will you start?"

　　"Ten," said Tudor; "nine men and myself."

　　"And you should be able to start day after to-morrow," Von Blixsaid to him. "The boats should practically be knocked togetherthis afternoon. To-morrow should see the outfit portioned andpacked. As for the Martha, Mr. Sheldon, we'll rush the stuffashore this afternoon and sail by sundown."

　　As the two men returned down the path to their boat, Sheldonregarded Joan quizzically.

　　"There's romance for you," he said, "and adventure--gold-huntingamong the cannibals."

　　"A title for a book," she cried. "Or, better yet, 'Gold-HuntingAmong the Head-Hunters.' My! wouldn't it sell!"

　　"And now aren't you sorry you became a cocoanut planter?" heteased. "Think of investing in such an adventure."

　　"If I did," she retorted, "Von Blix wouldn't be finicky about myjoining in the cruise to Malaita."

　　"I don't doubt but what he would jump at it."

　　"What do you think of them?" she asked.

　　"Oh, old Von Blix is all right, a solid sort of chap in hisfashion; but Tudor is fly-away--too much on the surface, you know.If it came to being wrecked on a desert island, I'd prefer VonBlix."

　　"I don't quite understand," Joan objected. "What have you againstTudor?"

　　"You remember Browning's 'Last Duchess'?"

　　She nodded.

　　"Well, Tudor reminds me of her--"

　　"But she was delightful."

　　"So she was. But she was a woman. One expects something differentfrom a man--more control, you know, more restraint, moredeliberation. A man must be more solid, more solid and steady-going and less effervescent. A man of Tudor's type gets on mynerves. One demands more repose from a man."

　　Joan felt that she did not quite agree with his judgment; and,somehow, Sheldon caught her feeling and was disturbed. Heremembered noting how her eyes had brightened as she talked withthe newcomer--confound it all, was he getting jealous? he askedhimself. Why shouldn't her eyes brighten? What concern was it ofhis?

　　A second boat had been lowered, and the outfit of the shore partywas landed rapidly. A dozen of the crew put the knocked-down boatstogether on the beach. There were five of these craft--lean andnarrow, with flaring sides, and remarkably long. Each was equippedwith three paddles and several iron-shod poles.

　　"You chaps certainly seem to know river-work," Sheldon told one ofthe carpenters.

　　The man spat a mouthful of tobacco-juice into the white sand, andanswered, -

　　"We use 'em in Alaska. They're modelled after the Yukon poling-boats, and you can bet your life they're crackerjacks. Thiscreek'll be a snap alongside some of them Northern streams. Fivehundred pounds in one of them boats, an' two men can snake it alongin a way that'd surprise you."

　　At sunset the Martha broke out her anchor and got under way,dipping her flag and saluting with a bomb gun. The Union Jack ranup and down the staff, and Sheldon replied with his brass signal-cannon. The miners pitched their tents in the compound, and cookedon the beach, while Tudor dined with Joan and Sheldon.

　　Their guest seemed to have been everywhere and seen everything andmet everybody, and, encouraged by Joan, his talk was largely uponhis own adventures. He was an adventurer of adventurers, and byhis own account had been born into adventure. Descended from oldNew England stock, his father a consul-general, he had been born inGermany, in which country he had received his early education andhis accent. Then, still a boy, he had rejoined his father inTurkey, and accompanied him later to Persia, his father having beenappointed Minister to that country.

　　Tudor had always been a wanderer, and with facile wit and quickvivid description he leaped from episode and place to episode andplace, relating his experiences seemingly not because they werehis, but for the sake of their bizarreness and uniqueness, for theunusual incident or the laughable situation. He had gone throughSouth American revolutions, been a Rough Rider in Cuba, a scout inSouth Africa, a war correspondent in the Russo-Japanese war. Hehad mushed dogs in the Klondike, washed gold from the sands ofNome, and edited a newspaper in San Francisco. The President ofthe United States was his friend. He was equally at home in theclubs of London and the Continent, the Grand Hotel at Yokohama, andthe selector's shanties in the Never-Never country. He had shotbig game in Siam, pearled in the Paumotus, visited Tolstoy, seenthe Passion Play, and crossed the Andes on mule-back; while he wasa living directory of the fever holes of West Africa.

　　Sheldon leaned back in his chair on the veranda, sipping his coffeeand listening. In spite of himself he felt touched by the charm ofthe man who had led so varied a life. And yet Sheldon was notcomfortable. It seemed to him that the man addressed himselfparticularly to Joan. His words and smiles were directedimpartially toward both of them, yet Sheldon was certain, had thetwo men of them been alone, that the conversation would have beenalong different lines. Tudor had seen the effect on Joan anddeliberately continued the flow of reminiscence, netting her in theglamour of romance. Sheldon watched her rapt attention, listenedto her spontaneous laughter, quick questions, and passingjudgments, and felt grow within him the dawning consciousness thathe loved her.

　　So he was very quiet and almost sad, though at times he was awareof a distinct irritation against his guest, and he even speculatedas to what percentage of Tudor's tale was true and how any of itcould be proved or disproved. In this connection, as if the scenehad been prepared by a clever playwright, Utami came upon theveranda to report to Joan the capture of a crocodile in the trapthey had made for her.

　　Tudor's face, illuminated by the match with which he was lightinghis cigarette, caught Utami's eye, and Utami forgot to report tohis mistress.

　　"Hello, Tudor," he said, with a familiarity that startled Sheldon.

　　The Polynesian's hand went out, and Tudor, shaking it, was staringinto his face.

　　"Who is it? " he asked. "I can't see you."

　　"Utami."

　　"And who the dickens is Utami? Where did I ever meet you, my man?"

　　"You no forget the Huahine?" Utami chided. "Last time Huahinesail?"

　　Tudor gripped the Tahitian's hand a second time and shook it withgenuine heartiness.

　　"There was only one kanaka who came out of the Huahine that lastvoyage, and that kanaka was Joe. The deuce take it, man, I'm gladto see you, though I never heard your new name before."

　　"Yes, everybody speak me Joe along the Huahine. Utami my name allthe time, just the same."

　　"But what are you doing here?" Tudor asked, releasing the sailor'shand and leaning eagerly forward.

　　"Me sail along Missie Lackalanna her schooner Miele. We go Tahiti,Raiatea, Tahaa, Bora-Bora, Manua, Tutuila, Apia, Savaii, and FijiIslands--plenty Fiji Islands. Me stop along Missie Lackalanna inSolomons. Very soon she catch other schooner."

　　"He and I were the two survivors of the wreck of the Huahine,"Tudor explained to the others. "Fifty-seven all told on board whenwe sailed from Huapa, and Joe and I were the only two that ever setfoot on land again. Hurricane, you know, in the Paumotus. Thatwas when I was after pearls."

　　"And you never told me, Utami, that you'd been wrecked in ahurricane," Joan said reproachfully.

　　The big Tahitian shifted his weight and flashed his teeth in aconciliating smile.

　　"Me no t'ink nothing 't all," he said.

　　He half-turned, as if to depart, by his manner indicating that heconsidered it time to go while yet he desired to remain.

　　"All right, Utami," Tudor said. "I'll see you in the morning andhave a yarn."

　　"He saved my life, the beggar," Tudor explained, as the Tahitianstrode away and with heavy softness of foot went down the steps."Swim! I never met a better swimmer."

　　And thereat, solicited by Joan, Tudor narrated the wreck of theHuahine; while Sheldon smoked and pondered, and decided thatwhatever the man's shortcomings were, he was at least not a liar.