第23章

Mrs。Traversaskedherselfwhetherperchanceshehadnotsimplyscreamed。Ithadneveroccurredtoherbeforethatperhapsshehad。Atthetimeitseemedtohershehadnostrengthformorethanawhisper。Hadshebeenreallysoloud？Andthedeadlychill，thenightthathadgonebyherhadleftinherbody，vanishedfromherlimbs，passedoutofherinaflush。Herfacewasturnedawayfromthelight，andthatfactgavehercouragetocontinue。Moreover，themanbeforeherwassodetachedfromtheshamesandpridesandschemesoflifethatheseemednottocountatall，exceptthatsomehoworotherhemanagedattimestocatchthemereliteralsenseofthewordsaddressedtohim——andanswerthem。Andanswerthem！Answerunfailingly，impersonally，withoutanyfeeling。

"YousawTom——KingTom？Washethere？Imeanjustthen，atthemoment。Therewasalightatthegangway。Washeondeck？"

"No。Intheboat。"

"Already？CouldIhavebeenheardintheboatdownthere？Yousaythewholeshipheardme——andIdon’tcare。Butcouldhehearme？"

"WasitTomyouwereafter？"saidJorgensoninthetoneofanegligentremark。

"Can’tyouanswerme？"shecried，angrily。

"Tomwasbusy。Nochild’splay。Theboatshovedoff，"saidJorgenson，asifheweremerelythinkingaloud。

"Youwon’ttellme，then？"Mrs。Traversapostrophizedhim，fearlessly。ShewasnotafraidofJorgenson。Justthenshewasafraidofnothingandnobody。AndJorgensonwentonthinkingaloud。

"IguesshewillbekeptbusyfromnowonandsoshallI。"

Mrs。Traversseemedreadytotakebytheshouldersandshakethatdead—voicedspectretillitbeggedformercy。Butsuddenlyherstrongwhitearmsfelldownbyherside，thearmsofanexhaustedwoman。

"Ishallnever，neverfindout，"shewhisperedtoherself。

Shecastdownhereyesinintolerablehumiliation，inintolerabledesire，asthoughshehadveiledherface。Notasoundreachedthelonelinessofherthought。ButwhensheraisedhereyesagainJorgensonwasnolongerstandingbeforeher。

Foraninstantshesawhimallblackinthebrilliantandnarrowdoorway，andthenextmomenthehadvanishedoutside，asifdevouredbythehotblazeoflight。ThesunhadrisenontheShoreofRefuge。

WhenMrs。Traverscameoutondeckherselfitwasasitwerewithaboldlyunveiledface，withwide—openanddry，sleeplesseyes。

Theirgaze，undismayedbythesunshine，soughttheinnermostheartofthingseachdayofferedtothepassionofherdreadandofherimpatience。Thelagoon，thebeach，thecoloursandtheshapesstruckhermorethaneverasaluminouspaintingonanimmenseclothhidingthemovementsofaninexplicablelife。Sheshadedhereyeswithherhand。Therewerefiguresonthebeach，movingdarkdotsonthewhitesemicircleboundedbythestockades，backedbyroofridgesabovethepalmgroves。Furtherbackthemassofcarvedwhitecoralontheroofofthemosqueshonelikeawhiteday—star。Religionandpolitics——alwayspolitics！Totheleft，beforeTengga’senclosure，theloomoffirehadchangedintoapillarofsmoke。Butthereweresomebigtreesoverthereandshecouldn’ttellwhetherthenightcouncilhadprolongeditssitting。Somevagueformswerestillmovingthereandshecouldpicturethemtoherself：Daman，thesupremechiefofsea—robbers，withavengefulheartandtheeyesofagazelle；Sentot，thesourfanaticwiththebigturban，thatothersaintwithascantyloinclothandashesinhishair，andTenggawhomshecouldimaginefromhearsay，fat，good—tempered，crafty，butreadytospillbloodonhisambitiouswayandalreadyboldenoughtoflauntayellowstateumbrellaattheverygateofBelarab’sstockade——sotheysaid。

Shesaw，sheimagined，sheevenadmittednowtherealityofthosethingsnolongeramerepageantmarshalledforhervisionwithbarbaroussplendourandsavageemphasis。Shequestioneditnolonger——butshedidnotfeelitinhersoulanymorethanonefeelsthedepthoftheseaunderitspeacefulglitterortheturmoilofitsgreyfury。Hereyesrangedafar，unbelievingandfearful——andthenallatonceshebecameawareoftheemptyCagewithitsinteriorindisorder，thecampbedsteadsnottakenaway，apillowlyingonthedeck，thedyingflamelikeashredofdullyellowstuffinsidethelamplefthangingoverthetable。Thewholestruckherassqualidandasifalreadydecayed，aflimsyandidlephantasy。ButJorgenson，seatedonthedeckwithhisbacktoit，wasnotidle。Hisoccupation，too，seemedfantasticandsotrulychildishthatherheartsankattheman’sutterabsorptioninit。Jorgensonhadbeforehim，stretchedonthedeck，severalbitsofratherthinanddirty—lookingropeofdifferentlengthsfromacoupleofinchestoaboutafoot。Hehad（anidiotmighthaveamusedhimselfinthatway）setfiretotheendsofthem。Theysmoulderedwithamazingenergy，emittingnowandthenasplutter，andinthecalmairwithinthebulwarkssentupveryslender，exactlyparallelthreadsofsmoke，eachwithavanishingcurlattheend；andtheabsorptionwithwhichJorgensongavehimselfuptothatpastimewasenoughtoshakeallconfidenceinhissanity。

Inonehalf—openedhandhewasholdingthewatch。Hewasalsoprovidedwithascrapofpaperandthestumpofapencil。Mrs。

Traverswasconfidentthathedidnoteitherhearorseeher。

"CaptainJorgenson，younodoubtthink……"

Hetriedtowaveherawaywiththestumpofthepencil。Hedidnotwanttobeinterruptedinhisstrangeoccupation。Hewasplayingverygravelyindeedwiththosebitsofstring。"Ilightedthemalltogether，"hemurmured，keepingoneeyeonthedialofthewatch。Justthentheshortestpieceofstringwentout，utterlyconsumed。JorgensonmadeahastynoteandremainedstillwhileMrs。Traverslookedathimwithstonyeyesthinkingthatnothingintheworldwasanyuse。TheotherthreadsofsmokewentonvanishinginspiralsbeforetheattentiveJorgenson。

"Whatareyoudoing？"askedMrs。Travers，drearily。

"Timingmatch……precaution……"

HehadneverinMrs。Travers’experiencebeenlessspectralthanthen。Hedisplayedaweaknessoftheflesh。Hewasimpatientatherintrusion。Hedividedhisattentionbetweenthethreadsofsmokeandthefaceofthewatchwithsuchinterestthatthesuddenreportsofseveralgunsbreakingforthefirsttimefordaysthestillnessofthelagoonandtheillusionofthepaintedscenefailedtomakehimraisehishead。Heonlyjerkeditsidewaysalittle。Mrs。TraversstaredatthewispsofwhitevapourfloatingaboveBelarab’sstockade。Theseriesofsharpdetonationsceasedandtheircombinedechoescamebackoverthelagoonlikealong—drawnandrushingsigh。

"What’sthis？"criedMrs。Travers。

"Belarab’scomehome，"saidJorgenson。

ThelastthreadofsmokedisappearedandJorgensongotup。Hehadlostallinterestinthewatchandthrustitcarelesslyintohispocket，togetherwiththebitofpaperandthestumpofpencil。

Hehadresumedhisaloofnessfromthelifeofmen，butapproachingthebulwarkhecondescendedtolooktowardBelarab’sstockade。

"Yes，heishome，"hesaidverylow。

’’What’sgoingtohappen？"criedMrs。Travers。"What’stobedone？"Jorgensonkeptuphisappearanceofcommuningwithhimself。

"Iknowwhattodo，"hemumbled。

"Youarelucky，"saidMrs。Travers，withintensebitterness。

Itseemedtoherthatshewasabandonedbyalltheworld。Theoppositeshoreofthelagoonhadresumeditsaspectofapaintedscenethatwouldneverrolluptodisclosethetruthbehinditsblindingandsoullesssplendour。Itseemedtoherthatshehadsaidherlastwordstoallofthem：tod’Alcacer，toherhusband，toLingardhimself——andthattheyhadallgonebehindthecurtainforeveroutofhersight。OfallthewhitemenJorgensonalonewasleft，thatmanwhohaddonewithlifesocompletelythathismerepresencerobbeditofallheatandmystery，leavingnothingbutitsterrible，itsrevoltinginsignificance。AndMrs。Traverswasreadyforrevolt。Shecriedwithsuppressedpassion：

"Areyouaware，CaptainJorgenson，thatIamalive？"

Heturnedhiseyesonher，andforamomentshewasdauntedbytheircoldglassiness。Butbeforetheycoulddriveheraway，somethinglikethegleamofasparkgavethemaninstant’sanimation。

"Iwanttogoandjointhem。Iwanttogoashore，"shesaid，firmly。"There！"

Herbareandextendedarmpointedacrossthelagoon，andJorgenson’sresurrectedeyesglidedalongthewhitelimbandwanderedoffintospace。

"Noboat，"hemuttered。

"Theremustbeacanoe。Iknowthereisacanoe。Iwantit。"

Shesteppedforwardcompelling，commanding，tryingtoconcentrateinherglanceallherwillpower，thesenseofherownrighttodisposeofherselfandherclaimtobeservedtothelastmomentofherlife。Itwasasifshehaddonenothing。Jorgensondidn’tflinch。

"Whichofthemareyouafter？"askedhisblank，unringingvoice。

Shecontinued