Chapter LIII

by William Somerset Maugham

　　Tenez, voila le Capitaine Brunot," said Tiare, one daywhen I was fitting together what she could tell me of Strickland."He knew Strickland well; he visited him at his house."I saw a middle-aged Frenchman with a big black beard, streakedwith gray, a sunburned face, and large, shining eyes. He wasdressed in a neat suit of ducks. I had noticed him atluncheon, and Ah Lin, the Chinese boy, told me he had comefrom the Paumotus on the boat that had that day arrived.Tiare introduced me to him, and he handed me his card, a largecard on which was printed Rene Brunot, and underneath,Capitaine au Long Cours. We were sitting on a littleverandah outside the kitchen, and Tiare was cutting out adress that she was making for one of the girls about thehouse. He sat down with us."Yes; I knew Strickland well," he said. "I am very fond ofchess, and he was always glad of a game. I come to Tahitithree or four times a year for my business, and when he was atPapeete he would come here and we would play. When hemarried" -- Captain Brunot smiled and shrugged his shoulders --"enfin, when he went to live with the girl that Tiaregave him, he asked me to go and see him. I was one of theguests at the wedding feast." He looked at Tiare, and theyboth laughed. "He did not come much to Papeete after that,and about a year later it chanced that I had to go to thatpart of the island for I forgot what business, and when I hadfinished it I said to myself: `Voyons, why should I notgo and see that poor Strickland?' I asked one or two nativesif they knew anything about him, and I discovered that helived not more than five kilometres from where I was. So I went.I shall never forget the impression my visit made on me.I live on an atoll, a low island, it is a strip of landsurrounding a lagoon, and its beauty is the beauty of the seaand sky and the varied colour of the lagoon and the grace ofthe cocoa-nut trees; but the place where Strickland lived hadthe beauty of the Garden of Eden. Ah, I wish I could make yousee the enchantment of that spot, a corner hidden away fromall the world, with the blue sky overhead and the rich,luxuriant trees. It was a feast of colour. And it wasfragrant and cool. Words cannot describe that paradise.And here he lived, unmindful of the world and by theworld forgotten. I suppose to European eyes it would haveseemed astonishingly sordid. The house was dilapidated and nonetoo clean. Three or four natives were lying on the verandah.You know how natives love to herd together. There was a youngman lying full length, smoking a cigarette, and he wore nothingbut a pareo"The pareo is a long strip of trade cotton, red or blue,stamped with a white pattern. It is worn round the waist andhangs to the knees."A girl of fifteen, perhaps, was plaiting pandanus-leaf tomake a hat, and an old woman was sitting on her haunchessmoking a pipe. Then I saw Ata. She was suckling a new-bornchild, and another child, stark naked, was playing at her feet.When she saw me she called out to Strickland, and hecame to the door. He, too, wore nothing but a pareo.He was an extraordinary figure, with his red beard and mattedhair, and his great hairy chest. His feet were horny andscarred, so that I knew he went always bare foot. He had gonenative with a vengeance. He seemed pleased to see me, andtold Ata to kill a chicken for our dinner. He took me intothe house to show me the picture he was at work on when I came in.In one corner of the room was the bed, and in the middlewas an easel with the canvas upon it. Because I was sorry forhim, I had bought a couple of his pictures for small sums, andI had sent others to friends of mine in France. And though Ihad bought them out of compassion, after living with them Ibegan to like them. Indeed, I found a strange beauty in them.Everyone thought I was mad, but it turns out that I was right.I was his first admirer in the islands."He smiled maliciously at Tiare, and with lamentations she toldus again the story of how at the sale of Strickland's effectsshe had neglected the pictures, but bought an American stovefor twenty-seven francs."Have you the pictures still?" I asked."Yes; I am keeping them till my daughter is of marriageableage, and then I shall sell them. They will be her dot."Then he went on with the account of his visit to Strickland."I shall never forget the evening I spent with him. I had notintended to stay more than an hour, but he insisted that Ishould spend the night. I hesitated, for I confess I did notmuch like the look of the mats on which he proposed that Ishould sleep; but I shrugged my shoulders. When I wasbuilding my house in the Paumotus I had slept out for weeks ona harder bed than that, with nothing to shelter me but wildshrubs; and as for vermin, my tough skin should be proofagainst their malice."We went down to the stream to bathe while Ata was preparingthe dinner, and after we had eaten it we sat on the verandah.We smoked and chatted. The young man had a concertina, and heplayed the tunes popular on the music-halls a dozen yearsbefore. They sounded strangely in the tropical nightthousands of miles from civilisation. I asked Strickland ifit did not irk him to live in that promiscuity. No, he said;he liked to have his models under his hand. Presently, afterloud yawning, the natives went away to sleep, and Stricklandand I were left alone. I cannot describe to you the intensesilence of the night. On my island in the Paumotus there isnever at night the complete stillness that there was here.There is the rustle of the myriad animals on the beach, allthe little shelled things that crawl about ceaselessly, andthere is the noisy scurrying of the land-crabs. Now and thenin the lagoon you hear the leaping of a fish, and sometimes ahurried noisy splashing as a brown shark sends all the otherfish scampering for their lives. And above all, ceaselesslike time, is the dull roar of the breakers on the reef.But here there was not a sound, and the air was scented with thewhite flowers of the night. It was a night so beautiful thatyour soul seemed hardly able to bear the prison of the body.You felt that it was ready to be wafted away on the immaterial air,and death bore all the aspect of a beloved friend."Tiare sighed."Ah, I wish I were fifteen again."Then she caught sight of a cat trying to get at a dish ofprawns on the kitchen table, and with a dexterous gesture anda lively volley of abuse flung a book at its scampering tail."I asked him if he was happy with Ata."`She leaves me alone,' he said. 'She cooks my food and looksafter her babies. She does what I tell her. She gives mewhat I want from a woman.'"`And do you never regret Europe? Do you not yearn sometimesfor the light of the streets in Paris or London, thecompanionship of your friends, and equals, que sais-je?for theatres and newspapers, and the rumble of omnibuses onthe cobbled pavements?'"For a long time he was silent. Then he said:"`I shall stay here till I die.'"`But are you never bored or lonely?' I asked."He chuckled."`Mon pauvre ami,' he said. `It is evident that you donot know what it is to be an artist.'"Capitaine Brunot turned to me with a gentle smile, and therewas a wonderful look in his dark, kind eyes."He did me an injustice, for I too know what it is to havedreams. I have my visions too. In my way I also am an artist."We were all silent for a while, and Tiare fished out of hercapacious pocket a handful of cigarettes. She handed one toeach of us, and we all three smoked. At last she said:"Since ce monsieur is interested in Strickland, why do younot take him to see Dr. Coutras? He can tell him somethingabout his illness and death.""Volontiers," said the Captain, looking at me.I thanked him, and he looked at his watch."It is past six o'clock. We should find him at home if youcare to come now."I got up without further ado, and we walked along the roadthat led to the doctor's house. He lived out of the town,but the Hotel de la Fleur was on the edge of it, and we werequickly in the country. The broad road was shaded by pepper-trees,and on each side were the plantations, cocoa-nut and vanilla.The pirate birds were screeching among the leaves of the palms.We came to a stone bridge over a shallow river,and we stopped for a few minutes to see the native boys bathing.They chased one another with shrill cries and laughter,and their bodies, brown and wet, gleamed in the sunlight.