Chapter XIX--The Lost Toy

by Jack London

　　"Well," Joan said with a sigh, "I've shown you hustling Americanmethods that succeed and get somewhere, and here you are beginningyour muddling again."

　　Five days had passed, and she and Sheldon were standing on theveranda watching the Martha, close-hauled on the wind, laying atack off shore. During those five days Joan had never oncebroached the desire of her heart, though Sheldon, in thisparticular instance reading her like a book, had watched her leadup to the question a score of times in the hope that he wouldhimself suggest her taking charge of the Martha. She had wantedhim to say the word, and she had steeled herself not to say itherself. The matter of finding a skipper had been a hard one. Shewas jealous of the Martha, and no suggested man had satisfied her.

　　"Oleson?" she had demanded. "He does very well on the Flibberty,with me and my men to overhaul her whenever she's ready to fall topieces through his slackness. But skipper of the Martha?Impossible!"

　　"Munster? Yes, he's the only man I know in the Solomons I'd careto see in charge. And yet, there's his record. He lost theUmbawa--one hundred and forty drowned. He was first officer on thebridge. Deliberate disobedience to instructions. No wonder theybroke him.

　　"Christian Young has never had any experience with large boats.Besides, we can't afford to pay him what he's clearing on theMinerva. Sparrowhawk is a good man--to take orders. He has noinitiative. He's an able sailor, but he can't command. I tell youI was nervous all the time he had charge of the Flibberty atPoonga-Poonga when I had to stay by the Martha."

　　And so it had gone. No name proposed was satisfactory, and,moreover, Sheldon had been surprised by the accuracy of herjudgments. A dozen times she almost drove him to the statementthat from the showing she made of Solomon Islands sailors, she wasthe only person fitted to command the Martha. But each time herestrained himself, while her pride prevented her from making thesuggestion.

　　"Good whale-boat sailors do not necessarily make good schooner-handlers," she replied to one of his arguments. "Besides, thecaptain of a boat like the Martha must have a large mind, seethings in a large way; he must have capacity and enterprise."

　　"But with your Tahitians on board--" Sheldon had begun anotherargument.

　　"There won't be any Tahitians on board," she had returned promptly."My men stay with me. I never know when I may need them. When Isail, they sail; when I remain ashore, they remain ashore. I'llfind plenty for them to do right here on the plantation. You'veseen them clearing bush, each of them worth half a dozen of yourcannibals."

　　So it was that Joan stood beside Sheldon and sighed as she watchedthe Martha beating out to sea, old Kinross, brought over from Savo,in command.

　　"Kinross is an old fossil," she said, with a touch of bitterness inher voice. "Oh, he'll never wreck her through rashness, restassured of that; but he's timid to childishness, and timid skipperslose just as many vessels as rash ones. Some day, Kinross willlose the Martha because there'll be only one chance and he'll beafraid to take it. I know his sort. Afraid to take advantage of aproper breeze of wind that will fetch him in in twenty hours, he'llget caught out in the calm that follows and spend a whole week ingetting in. The Martha will make money with him, there's no doubtof it; but she won't make near the money that she would under acompetent master."

　　She paused, and with heightened colour and sparkling eyes gazedseaward at the schooner.

　　"My! but she is a witch! Look at her eating up the water, andthere's no wind to speak of. She's not got ordinary white metaleither. It's man-of-war copper, every inch of it. I had thempolish it with cocoanut husks when she was careened at Poonga-Poonga. She was a seal-hunter before this gold expedition got her.And seal-hunters had to sail. They've run away from second classRussian cruisers more than once up there off Siberia.

　　"Honestly, if I'd dreamed of the chance waiting for me at Guvutuwhen I bought her for less than three hundred dollars, I'd neverhave gone partners with you. And in that case I'd be sailing herright now.

　　The justice of her contention came abruptly home to Sheldon. Whatshe had done she would have done just the same if she had not beenhis partner. And in the saving of the Martha he had played nopart. Single-handed, unadvised, in the teeth of the laughter ofGuvutu and of the competition of men like Morgan and Raff, she hadgone into the adventure and brought it through to success.

　　"You make me feel like a big man who has robbed a small child of alolly," he said with sudden contrition.

　　"And the small child is crying for it." She looked at him, and henoted that her lip was slightly trembling and that her eyes weremoist. It was the boy all over, he thought; the boy crying for thewee bit boat with which to play. And yet it was a woman, too.What a maze of contradiction she was! And he wondered, had shebeen all woman and no boy, if he would have loved her in just thesame way. Then it rushed in upon his consciousness that he reallyloved her for what she was, for all the boy in her and all the restof her--for the total of her that would have been a different totalin direct proportion to any differing of the parts of her.

　　"But the small child won't cry any more for it," she was saying."This is the last sob. Some day, if Kinross doesn't lose her,you'll turn her over to your partner, I know. And I won't nag youany more. Only I do hope you know how I feel. It isn't as if I'dmerely bought the Martha, or merely built her. I saved her. Itook her off the reef. I saved her from the grave of the sea whenfifty-five pounds was considered a big risk. She is mine,peculiarly mine. Without me she wouldn't exist. That bignor'wester would have finished her the first three hours it blew.And then I've sailed her, too; and she is a witch, a perfect witch.Why, do you know, she'll steer by the wind with half a spoke, giveand take. And going about! Well, you don't have to baby her,starting head-sheets, flattening mainsail, and gentling her withthe wheel. Put your wheel down, and around she comes, like a coltwith the bit in its teeth. And you can back her like a steamer. Idid it at Langa-Langa, between that shoal patch and the shore-reef.It was wonderful.

　　"But you don't love boats like I do, and I know you think I'mmaking a fool of myself. But some day I'm going to sail the Marthaagain. I know it. I know it."

　　In reply, and quite without premeditation, his hand went out tohers, covering it as it lay on the railing. But he knew, beyondthe shadow of a doubt, that it was the boy that returned thepressure he gave, the boy sorrowing over the lost toy. The thoughtchilled him. Never had he been actually nearer to her, and neverhad she been more convincingly remote. She was certainly notacutely aware that his hand was touching hers. In her grief at thedeparture of the Martha it was, to her, anybody's hand--at thebest, a friend's hand.

　　He withdrew his hand and walked perturbedly away.

　　"Why hasn't he got that big fisherman's staysail on her?" shedemanded irritably. "It would make the old girl just walk along inthis breeze. I know the sort old Kinross is. He's the skipperthat lies three days under double-reefed topsails waiting for agale that doesn't come. Safe? Oh, yes, he's safe--dangerouslysafe."

　　Sheldon retraced his steps.

　　"Never mind," he said. "You can go sailing on the Martha any timeyou please--recruiting on Malaita if you want to."

　　It was a great concession he was making, and he felt that he did itagainst his better judgment. Her reception of it was a surprise tohim.

　　"With old Kinross in command?" she queried. "No, thank you. He'ddrive me to suicide. I couldn't stand his handling of her. Itwould give me nervous prostration. I'll never step on the Marthaagain, unless it is to take charge of her. I'm a sailor, like myfather, and he could never bear to see a vessel mishandled. Didyou see the way Kinross got under way? It was disgraceful. Andthe noise he made about it! Old Noah did better with the Ark."

　　"But we manage to get somewhere just the same," he smiled.

　　"So did Noah."

　　"That was the main thing."

　　"For an antediluvian."

　　She took another lingering look at the Martha, then turned toSheldon.

　　"You are a slovenly lot down here when it comes to boats--most ofyou are, any way. Christian Young is all right though, Munster hasa slap-dash style about him, and they do say old Nielsen was acrackerjack. But with the rest I've seen, there's no dash, no go,no cleverness, no real sailor's pride. It's all hum-drum, andpodgy, and slow-going, any going so long as you get there heavenknows when. But some day I'll show you how the Martha should behandled. I'll break out anchor and get under way in a speed andstyle that will make your head hum; and I'll bring her alongsidethe wharf at Guvutu without dropping anchor and running a line."

　　She came to a breathless pause, and then broke into laughter,directed, he could see, against herself.

　　"Old Kinross is setting that fisherman's staysail," he remarkedquietly.

　　"No!" she cried incredulously, swiftly looking, then running forthe telescope.

　　She regarded the manoeuvre steadily through the glass, and Sheldon,watching her face, could see that the skipper was not making asuccess of it.

　　She finally lowered the glass with a groan.

　　"He's made a mess of it," she said, "and now he's trying it overagain. And a man like that is put in charge of a fairy like theMartha! Well, it's a good argument against marriage, that's all.No, I won't look any more. Come on in and play a steady,conservative game of billiards with me. And after that I'm goingto saddle up and go after pigeons. Will you come along?"

　　An hour later, just as they were riding out of the compound, Joanturned in the saddle for a last look at the Martha, a distant speckwell over toward the Florida coast.

　　"Won't Tudor be surprised when he finds we own the Martha?" shelaughed. "Think of it! If he doesn't strike pay-dirt he'll haveto buy a steamer-passage to get away from the Solomons."

　　Still laughing gaily, she rode through the gate. But suddenly herlaughter broke flatly and she reined in the mare. Sheldon glancedat her sharply, and noted her face mottling, even as he looked, andturning orange and green.

　　"It's the fever," she said. "I'll have to turn back."

　　By the time they were in the compound she was shivering andshaking, and he had to help her from her horse.

　　"Funny, isn't it?" she said with chattering teeth. "Likeseasickness--not serious, but horribly miserable while it lasts.I'm going to bed. Send Noa Noah and Viaburi to me. Tell Ornfirito make hot water. I'll be out of my head in fifteen minutes. ButI'll be all right by evening. Short and sharp is the way it takesme. Too bad to lose the shooting. Thank you, I'm all right."

　　Sheldon obeyed her instructions, rushed hot-water bottles along toher, and then sat on the veranda vainly trying to interest himselfin a two-months-old file of Sydney newspapers. He kept glancing upand across the compound to the grass house. Yes, he decided, thecontention of every white man in the islands was right; theSolomons was no place for a woman.

　　He clapped his hands, and Lalaperu came running.

　　"Here, you!" he ordered; "go along barracks, bring 'm black fellaMary, plenty too much, altogether."

　　A few minutes later the dozen black women of Berande were rangedbefore him. He looked them over critically, finally selecting onethat was young, comely as such creatures went, and whose body boreno signs of skin-disease.

　　"What name, you?" he demanded. "Sangui?"

　　"Me Mahua," was the answer.

　　"All right, you fella Mahua. You finish cook along boys. You stopalong white Mary. All the time you stop along. You savvee?"

　　"Me savvee," she grunted, and obeyed his gesture to go to the grasshouse immediately.

　　"What name?" he asked Viaburi, who had just come out of the grasshouse.

　　"Big fella sick," was the answer. "White fella Mary talk 'm toomuch allee time. Allee time talk 'm big fella schooner."

　　Sheldon nodded. He understood. It was the loss of the Martha thathad brought on the fever. The fever would have come sooner orlater, he knew; but her disappointment had precipitated it. Helighted a cigarette, and in the curling smoke of it caught visionsof his English mother, and wondered if she would understand how herson could love a woman who cried because she could not be skipperof a schooner in the cannibal isles.