Courts of Idleness (4 page)

“Pleasures. I’m sure of it. That’s what’s so tantalizing. Besides,” added Broke, spreading the coat carefully over my lady’s limbs, “big feet and big eyes never go together.”

“Another bow at a venture?”

“Not at all, my dear. You see, you’re only a dark horse. And I always put my shirt on a dark horse.”

“You’ve put your coat on this one.”

“And my shirt. Listen.” He flicked a startling example of the shirt-maker’s skill from another hook and laid it across her feet. “Now I’ve backed you both ways – a coat to win and a shirt for a place in your heart. Selah.”

The girl broke into long laughter. At length:

“You are mad,” she said. “But you’re very kind; and I’m going to make my dash in a minute. I think I’ve done enough trespassing.”

“I never prosecute,” said Robin.

“No? Still…”

She hesitated.

“Go on,” said Robin.

“Ships that pass in the night,” she murmured dreamily. “That’s what we are.”

“Are we?”

“Yes. Ships that pass. And that’s why I must go.”

“Aren’t they ever becalmed?”

“Never for long. When day comes, they’re always out of sight.”

“Not always.”

“Invariably.”

“I see,” said Robin meditatively. “The difficulty here is that I am disabled. Lost my figure-head somewhere in the Channel. Won’t you take me in tow as far as the Lost Property Office?”

“No.”

Robin sighed. Then:

“I shall know you again, anyway,” he said. “Instinctively. Besides, the moment you open your mouth – oh, I’d love just one look at you. Mayn’t I?”

He could hear the girl shake her head. Then:

“No,” she said gently. “I hate to say it, when you’ve been so awfully good. But you see – besides, you’re going to know me again anyway, aren’t you? Instinctively, too.” This in a grave tone, the faintest suggestion of mockery lurking behind it.

“You witch,” said Robin. “You maddening, unprincipled witch.”

A low ripple of merriment answered him. He set his teeth.

“That’s right,” he said bitterly. “Deride the helpless male. And now you’ve roused me. I will find you, if I have to scour the ship.”

My lady stretched out what was a shapely arm, the hand groping its way towards her companion.

“Where is he?” she said, her voice all uncertain with laughter. “Oh, there you are.” The fingers closed about his sleeve. “No. Don’t move. Perhaps you will find me. But that’s for tomorrow. At the present moment you shall look for somebody else. There’s a stewardesses’ room place just across this floor or deck – whichever you call it – a little way down the other passage. Will you go and see if there’s one there? She’ll know where my cabin is, and help me to get to it.”

“But why can’t I—”

The grip on his sleeve tightened.

“Please.”

“Oh, all right,” said Robin. “Are you sure one’s enough?”

“I think so. And thank you once again for being so good to another ship in distress.”

As the fingers slipped away, Robin caught them. Smooth, cool, pointed they were – he could feel that. Ringless, too – it was her left hand – and their nails polished. For a moment he held them.

“Wireless communication with the mainland has its points,” he said slowly. “Personally, I’d always sooner be in touch with a sister ship.”

“Even if she only passed in the night?”

Robin lifted the fingers to his lips.

“Till tomorrow,” he said.

The next moment he was in the passage. With some difficulty he found the stewardesses’ room, but there was no one there. He went the length of both passages, but apparently not a soul was abroad. So he came again to his cabin, unevenly, for the liner was still all over the place. They were getting a dusting, certainly.

“I say,” he said, as he opened the door, “there’s no one anywhere. It must be the dog-watch.”

No answer.

“My dear,” he said, leaning forward and stretching a hand towards the head of the bunk.

But where her shoulder should have been there was nothing. Save for its sheets and blankets, the bunk was empty. The ship had passed.

Robin Broke swore thoughtfully. Then he sat down on the edge of the bunk and began to laugh…

Preparation for the night upon a ship which is wallowing in the midst of an angry sea is a business to be gone about circumspectly. The fact that his electric light was out of order hampered Robin considerably. For all his care, rails, corners, and similar excrescences, which at the more outrageous moments he essayed to grasp, eluded his groping fingers, and by the time he was ready to clamber into his bunk, he had sustained a whole series of bruises and a most painful abrasion of the left shin. It was while endeavouring to remove his trousers that he had been precipitated violently on to the floor. There and then he had dealt with the Atlantic Ocean. From one point of view his description of it was masterly.

As he was disposing the sheets, his hand encountered something hard and rough to the touch – almost sharp-edged, able to scratch. For a moment he fingered it curiously. Was it a brooch? No. Yet… The next second he knew what it was. An earring. Instantly his thoughts flew to the fair South African. But it was of a different shape to those she had been wearing. Besides, it had not been her voice.

Broke forgot the Atlantic and his recent battery, even the abrasion upon his shin. With a smile he slipped the earring into the breast-pocket of his pyjamas.

“Lost,” he murmured, “one dainty earring. The finder will be – ah, suitably rewarded. And this is going to save me a lot of trouble.”

“And may I ask,” said Fairie, “if the arena of political life (
sic
) has never beckoned you?”

The eminent King’s Counsel frowned.

“There are some invitations,” he said, “which I disregard. One cannot be too careful of the company one keeps.”

Sunday. The three men were sitting easily in the afternoon sun. It was good to rest a little after a heavy lunch. Already the air was appreciably warmer, while the wind had dropped to a stiff breeze. Somehow it was difficult to realize that it was not yet twenty-four hours since they had left Southampton. A fair sea was running, but it was not nearly so rough.

Broke rose to his feet, laughing.

“Where are you going?” said Fairie.

“To get some cigarettes.”

“All right,” said his cousin. “But how did you know I wanted one?”

But Broke was already out of earshot.

When he reached his cabin, he fastened the door back, took out his keys, and stooped to unlock his dressing case. It was then that he noticed the envelope, lying upon his pillow, addressed to “—Broke, Esq.” The note it contained was short enough in all conscience.

Dear Ship – Please, have you got my earring? I think it must have come unscrewed whilst I was lying down. If you have, will you leave it with the Purser? Please. – Your Sister Ship.

PS – You were very nice to me.

When he had read it twice, Robin slipped the note into his pocket, turned again to his case and extracted the cigarettes. Before rejoining his cousin and the man of law, he made his way to the writing-room. There he sat down and wrote his answer.

Sister Ship Dear, – Yes, I have. No, I will not leave it with the Purser. You shall ask for it nicely in person. You know me, and I want to know you. Thank you for saying I was nice. You were sweet. – Your Ship.

PS – I get off at Rih.”

Then he went to the Purser’s office.

“It’s just this,” he said. “If anyone should come and ask about a lost earring, this note’s for the owner.”

The Purser nodded.

“I’ll see she gets it,” he said.

Robin thanked him and made his way back to the others.

“You have been quick,” said Fairie. “Did they have to move much luggage to get at yours? In the hold, I mean.”

“I saw no reason to hurry,” said Broke coolly. “You smoke too many cigarettes. I’ve had to speak to you about it before. By the way,” he added, “did I tell you that when I went to turn in last night, my electric light wouldn’t work?”

The lawyer gazed at him.

“Am I to understand,” he said, “that you were therefore compelled to essay those preparations, which precede repose, in total darkness?”

“You are,” said Broke.

“In that case, I fear you must have sustained several contused wounds.”

“Yes,” said Fairie. “Was it a darkness that could be felt, brother?”

“I don’t know about the darkness,” said Broke. “The furniture was there all right.”

“How incredibly chastening!” mused the lawyer.

“It was, rather,” said Broke. “What would you have done?”

“And or said?” said Fairie.

The KC rose to his feet before replying.

“I do not think,” he replied, “that I should have hurried down the alphabet.”

As he strolled leisurely away down the deck:

“Brother,” said Broke to Fairie, “this man is a privilege.”

“More,” said Fairie. “I see in him The White Hope.”

The weather continued to improve, making their path smooth, the voyage very pleasant. The Brokes and the Fairies made the most of their time. But then, so they did always. Besides The White Hope and the girl bound for South Africa, they came to know many people. The ship liked them. Fairie organized the ‘sweep’ on the day’s run, Broke helping him, so that the auction was successful beyond expectation. Even the smoking-room steward, a hardened veteran, was surprised at the bidding. That was on Monday. And an hour and a half’s cricket in the afternoon served to pass the time. Not that it hung heavily. So far from mattering, the fact that there was little or nothing to do was very comfortable. So engaging may be the atmosphere of fresh surroundings. The voyage had not had time to begin to pall.

The hours slipped by, the ship’s bells telling them; yet the earring’s owner did not make herself known. Robin Broke had done nothing. His policy was to wait. Obviously, it was up to my lady to make the move. Of course, when opportunity offered, he had looked closely at three or four of his fellow-passengers who seemed to answer more or less roughly to the slight description he could have given. But it was very difficult. Once he made up his mind that he had discovered the girl. He had run into her on Monday morning at the top of the stairs. So pretty and graceful she was, with her small gloved hands and an innocent look on her face that was full of promise. Big-eyed, too, and wearing no earrings, though that was nothing to go by. Something about her seemed to suggest the identity he sought. Gravely he had asked if she would take tickets for the ‘sweep,’ almost sure of his ground. Almost… Then she had opened the red lips. Her he-American accent stung Broke like a lash. The ground crumbled away suddenly.

Broke wandered down to his cabin on Tuesday night a little uneasily. The liner would arrive at Rih early the next morning, and, even supposing my lady were herself going no further, it seemed awkward not to restore the earring before he left the ship. After all, it was her property, and if he could not find her on board, it was longer odds against his identifying her in Rih. Moreover, she might not know where he was going to stay. Looming always in the background was the possibility that she was going on to the Cape.

It was with something more than irritation that he discovered, on entering his cabin, that once again the electric switch would not answer to his touch, Robin let out a rugged oath.

“Hush,” said my lady.

“Herself,” said Robin.

“In person. And now, please, may I have my earring?”

His reply was to twist the switch-button furiously. But it was no good – the light would not come on.

“This is the limit,” groaned Robin. Then: “Come into the corridor,” he added. “I’ll give it to you there.”

“No,” said the girl. “I was to ask for it nicely in person. I’ve done so.”

“I believe you’re a shadow,” said Robin; “the Spirit of Darkness. Yet your fingers were firm,” he added musingly, “and there was a faint scent—”

“Ships that pass in the night,” she said slowly. “In the night.”

“Perhaps,” said Robin. “But the fourth line says: ‘Only a look and a voice, then…’”

“I had the look, ship. I saw you, you know.”

“And you have the voice, my dear. The softest I ever heard. But you can’t have everything. Where do I come in?”

“Haven’t you got the earring?”

Broke shifted his ground.

“Why should we keep to the poem?” he said. “It’s a great mistake to sail too close to the wind, sister ship. Didn’t you know that?”

“Yes. And that’s why you’re going to give me my property and let me go.”

“Do you ask that?”

“I do.”

In silence Broke drew the earring out of his waistcoat pocket.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

Fingers brushed against his sleeve. Gently he took the slight wrist and put the earring into the little palm. The fingers closed over it.

“Thank you,” in a low voice.

“I say,” said Robin.

“Well?”

Still holding the one, he sought for and found another cool wrist.

“I think we ought to salute one another, sister ship.”

“I’ve presented arms, haven’t I?”

“Charmingly. But at sea…”

He raised her wrists slowly and set them upon his shoulders. Then he released his hold. The soft arms might have slipped away…

For a second she let him hold her. Then:

“I don’t think the switch is out of order,” she whispered, moving towards the door. “It was all right when I tried it. And – and you’ll find the lamp in your bunk.”

The next moment she was gone.

At seven o’clock the next morning the Brokes and the Fairies started to go ashore. And The White Hope with them. As Robin stepped on to the accommodation ladder, something impelled him to look up. Exactly above him, leaning upon the rail of the promenade deck, was the he-American girl he had encountered on Monday. She looked at him steadily, a faint smile on her lips, open merriment in the big brown eyes. For a moment Broke stared at her. Then he took off his hat… Even a disinterested party must have remarked her earrings.

“Shall we rest here a minute?” said The White Hope. “It’s rather a climb, isn’t it?”

“Oh, but it is so lovely,” said Betty, sinking on to a low stone seat, to gaze down and over the smiling bay. “Isn’t this wonderful, Robin?”

Her cousin deposited three heavy coats, two tennis rackets and a despatch-case upon the parapet before replying. Then:

“Glorious,” he said.

A ripple of laughter floated up from the curling flight of steps they had just ascended. The next moment Fay Broke stumbled into view, her fresh young face alight with merriment.

“Oh,” she cried, “Bill’s being so awfully funny about your bag, darling. He says – Oh, I say how lovely! Look at the sun on the mountains.”

The prospect was very pleasing.

The terrace was set upon the edge of the cliff, down whose side steps had been built and fashioned in odd curving flights to the dark rocks below. Here was a rough-hewn landing-place, to which a launch belonging to the hotel was used to bring visitors from the liners in the bay. So it had brought the Fairies, Betty, and Bill, at half-past seven o’clock that fair March morning. The Brokes, too, and the man of law. The latter had constituted himself their guide. Had he not been to Rih before – many times?

Rih. From islands set in the midst of shifting ocean, you have almost a right to expect something. Perilous seas and faery lands seem to go together – the one but the toll-bar to the other. Rih.

Far at the back, high mountains stood up against the sky, their steep heights thickly wooded, the line of them broken now and again by a sheer gorge, for all the world as if the ridge had started asunder at some mighty shock, suffered when Time was young. Very fair, these timbered heights, very arresting; but the mighty sweep of the mountains away and down into the glistening sea – that was the thing. A sweep miles long, steep at the first and then growing ever more gentle, its warm slopes rich with wood and sward and plantation and, presently, with flower-gardens, yet never losing the line of its grand curve, till the ribbon of surf in the bay cut it across, noisily marking the place where land slipped under water. All about the sides of the bay hung the little town of Starra, its white-walled houses clustering thick by the water’s edge and thence scrambling creeper-wise up the long slopes, to lose their fellows and at last themselves in the deep gardens and the woods above. The blue of the sea itself was wonderful, and the great sky matched it. The hue was almost that of the Mediterranean. On the horizon, straight ahead, two shadowy forms seemed to float upon the face of the waters – baby islands, these. Except for them, beyond the bay itself, there was no land, no sail, nothing. Miles away a faint wisp of smoke betrayed the whereabouts of some liner, herself hulled down behind the vast spaces of the Atlantic, which appeared to stretch endlessly into the distance, about it an air of such superb immensity that all talk of mastery and subjection, ruling the waves, and the like, seemed on a sudden impertinent, vain, very ridiculous. Over all, the sun blazed out of the heaven, crowning beauty with splendour, making the blue sea brilliant, the grand sweep of the mountains glorious indeed.

The prospect was very pleasing.

Fairie’s head appeared above the topmost step. For a moment he stood regarding the others, who were gazing over the sunlit bay. Then: “If I were to drop this bag,” he said, “it would imbed itself in the rock.”

“It isn’t really heavy,” said Broke, looking round. “The trouble is, you’re not carrying enough in the other hand. If you were, you wouldn’t notice it. All a matter of balance, you know,” he added airily.

Fairie looked at him.

“Would you rather die now, or after breakfast?” he said. “I mean to say, it doesn’t matter to me. The bears are waiting on the tennis-court.” He nodded towards where the wire-netting rose high among the bushes on the right. “Within call. You see, you shouldn’t have mocked me.”

“Poor old boy,” said Betty. “But you gave me the bag, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t fill it with ingots,” returned her husband, heaving himself up the remaining steps on to the terrace. “Incidentally, if Fay’s bag’s half as heavy as this, Falcon’ll never get up these steps alive. However.” He set the offending receptacle down gingerly. “Not another inch,” he added defiantly.

“But you can’t leave it here,” cried Betty.

“Can’t I?” said Bill. “Well, I’m going to have a devilish good try. And when we get up to the hotel, I’ll send some men down with a truck and ropes and things. I don’t know why you didn’t bring the safe. It would have taken your hats easily. Did I tell you that the hideous strain has displaced several of my organs?”

“This manual labour,” murmured The White Hope. “Well, well,” he added, “I think Mrs Fairie’s fears are groundless. The bag will be all right here. So will the garments and sporting requisites at present embarrassing your left arm. The porters can bring them.”

With a sigh of relief Fairie laid four coats and two rackets upon the stone seat.

“I am in your debt,” he said. “And now, I take it that we are now in the hotel’s ‘unrivalled garden’?”

“Yes,” said the lawyer, “and this is one of the ‘extensive views.’” With a sweep of his hand he indicated the bay of Starra and its surroundings. “Is it to your liking?”

“Every time,” said Fairie. “But breakfast would be more.”

“Shame,” said Robin. “The air is champagne, this prospect a meal in itself.”

“Good for you,” said Betty.

“Perhaps,” said Fairie. “But not for me. That’s just it. Alas, my diet does not include air, and prospects, like pork, are poison to me.”

“Fool!” said his wife.

“That’s right,” said Fairie. “Revile the hungry sage. Personally, I’m not used to doing weightlifting stunts on an empty—”

“As a matter of fact,” said the man of law, “the view from the hotel’s verandah is rather finer than this, so that, if we were to continue our progress, our differing appetites might be respectively indulged. Incidentally, the various fruits peculiar to Rih are very toothsome.”

“At once rare and refreshing?” said Fairie.

“More,” said The White Hope. “They are tangible.”

Slowly they passed up through the fair garden, over the cobbled paths. Some new wonder of blossoms met them at every step, gladdening their eyes with colour, filling the morning air with perfume. Here was a riot of roses, and here luxuriant honeysuckle scrambling beside them. Here again were thick growing daisies, the gentle blue of plumbago bushes rising in their white midst, while there, at a bend of the pathway, flamed a deep mass of bougainvillea, which, like nothing so much as some red tumbling torrent, streamed down over a pillared arbour, drenching the white walls with scarlet, and magically arrested, somehow stayed in its fall, spell-bound, perhaps, at its own loveliness. Everywhere rose up great palms: shady junipers, too, and trees, fragrant and flowering, without number. Now the path was shadowed, and now again all open to the sun, but for the most part its reaches lay in a shade, splashed here and there with sunlight, odd rents in the protecting screen of foliage just suffering the great fellow to plant rude badges of glory by the way, lest you should think he was not shining and so the spring morning the poorer for his loss.

Through all this matchless beauty passed the five wayfarers, fascinated and, for a little space, speechless, lizards darting at their approach on every sunlit wall, canaries innumerable leaping and singing in the boughs above. It was a royal progress indeed.

This, then, was Rih. Of a truth the entering in of the island was a thing to remember.

Suddenly:

“Listen to the birds,” said Betty, turning to throw a reproving glance in the direction of her spouse. “They aren’t worrying about breakfast.”

“Rot!” replied that gentleman. “They had theirs at cock-crow.”

“How d’you know?” said Fay. “I believe they started singing directly they woke up, and it’s all so lovely they haven’t had the heart to stop.”

The White Hope looked round with a quiet smile.

“One might almost say ‘Songs without Worms,’” he said.

Some two hours later Broke and Fairie were leaning upon the rail of the broad verandah, contemplating the bay of Starra, where the liner that had brought them to Rih rode easily, her burnished metal-work gleaming in the sunshine, boats of all shapes and sizes dancing about her great flanks. A slight haze of smoke drifted above her funnels, and, as they stood watching her, the breeze brought the faint sound of three bells to their ears. Half-past nine. Another hour and a half and she would sail.

“Aha,” said Fairie, tilting his hat over his eyes. “This is what I call good. Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of Rih.”

Before his cousin could reply:

“That’s right,” said the KC, who had come up behind them noiselessly in his rubber-soled shoes. Smilingly he tapped Broke on the shoulder. “Your bruised arms hang up for monuments,” he added, referring to the latter’s recent battery on shipboard. “Or was it the shins that suffered? In that case you must put your feet up.”

“Yes,” said Fairie. “They’d make rather good monuments, wouldn’t they? Slabs always do.”

“They’d be up now,” said Broke, ignoring the offensive allusion, “only there don’t seem to be any public chairs. All these are labelled with some visitor’s name, and we’re afraid to sit in them in case the owners turn up.”

“It’s the custom here to purchase your own chairs on arrival,” explained the lawyer. “When you go, you take them to use on board. As I come every year, mine is kept for me. Are you going down into the town?”

“We’re only waiting for the girls. I understand the luggage won’t be up before noon, so we may as well move round till it comes.”

“Then I should get four chairs without delay. Insist upon their being delivered this afternoon. And here come the ladies.”

Betty and Fay appeared on the verandah.

“At last,” said Robin. “What have you been doing? Having your hair washed?”

“No,” said his sister coolly. “We’ve been putting our gloves on.”

“That admission,” said Robin, “is in the nature of a gratuitous insult.”

“Come along,” said Fairie, moving towards the lounge. “I ordered a taxi twenty minutes ago.”

The taxi proved to be a large open touring car, high-powered, too, and driven by a dark-eyed Portuguese, a shy smile on his merry face. He greeted the party with easy politeness, raising his peaked cap. But he could speak no English, so the concierge told him where to go – that was, just down Town, say, to the top of the Avenue Fayal. It seemed that there was a café there, “The Golden Gate” by name. This place was, as it were, the hub of Starra.

It was a pretty run, some ten minutes long.

The avenue led from the quay up to a broad place, full of noise and movement, all dazzling in the bright sun. Movement, mark you, not bustle. There is no hastening in Rih. Men go about their business as it were leisure. Often enough it is.

And there, at the corner of the place and the avenue, stood “The Golden Gate.” In a sense the spot seemed a terminus, a bourn. In London, omnibuses would start from such a place instinctively. There would be no question about it. And we should call the site a circus. But here there were no police and no pavements, and the traffic went as it pleased. Motors and bullock-carts, some occupied, others awaiting that honour and so at rest by the low wall, men all in white, standing in groups, passing the time of day, black-haired girls in coloured stuffs, baskets upon their bare brown arms, lingering as they turned their steps marketwards, dogs asprawl on the cobbles, blinking sleepily in the hot sunshine, and little brown boys everywhere, now scrambling at play, now rushing to press tight-tied posies of wild flowers on such English visitors as passed by – these and their like made up the scene. Up the avenue a string of mules was slowly making its way, the poor beasts grateful for the shade of the tall plane-trees.

Betty and Fay were out of the car and across the avenue before Bill Fairie had paid the driver.

“What’s the matter with them?” said that gentleman.

“Embroidery,” replied his cousin, with a bored air. “I don’t suppose we shall get them away under five pounds.”

“Leave it to me,” said Bill.

Together they crossed over, to find the girls excitedly examining large piles of exquisitely worked doilies, while a fat Portuguese stood benignantly by, supervising their inspection and smoking a cigar which was curved like a banana. A comfortable smile of anticipation had already spread over his countenance.

“More underwear?” said Fairie pleasantly, as they came up. “I thought—”

“If you don’t go and wait outside, I’ll buy the lot,” said his wife. “Oh, Fay dear, just look at this one.”

The case seeming hopeless, the men retired to the doorway in some dudgeon. They were, indeed, on the point of crossing over to test the hospitality of “The Golden Gate,” when there appeared two of their late fellow-passengers, who, bound for South Africa, were slowly returning to the quay laden with all manner of purchases and looking rather like free-booters who had had a good morning.

“Aha,” cried Fairie. “The sack of Starra. Have you put many to the sword?”

Mrs Merrow laughed.

“It’s we who’ve been bled,” she cried, “or, rather, Denis. He hadn’t been ashore a quarter of an hour before he’d gone and bought a hundred bananas and a hundred and fifty passion fruit. Says we must have some fruit on board. Of course, everybody thinks we’re victualling the ship.”

“I’m going to count them on the quay,” said Denis. “That’s why we’re so early.”

“While I go round with the tambourine?” said his wife. “How much do you think we shall take?”

“I for one would gladly contribute fourpence,” said Fairie, “for the privilege of watching your husband tell over his fruit amid the plaudits of a helpful crowd. Friend,” he added, turning to the culprit, “you are about to be stung. Of course, they’ll give you short measure, and any idea of reckoning’s out of the question.”

“Yes,” said Robin. “Each time you got going, some kid’d roll up and badger you to buy his flowers or something, and by the time you’d told him off, you’d have lost your place in the produce.”