CHAPTER VI
MR. HASWELL LOSES HIS TEMPER
Alan and Barbara sat in Mr. Champers-Haswell's private sitting-room
with the awful decorations, and before them by the fire Mr. Champers-
Haswell reclined upon his couch. Alan in a few, brief, soldier-like
words had just informed him of his engagement to Barbara. During the
recital of this interesting fact Barbara said nothing, but Mr. Haswell
had whistled several times. Now at length he spoke, in that tone of
forced geniality which he generally adopted towards his cousin.
"You are asking for the hand of a considerable heiress, Alan my boy,"
he said, "but you have neglected to inform me of your own position."
"Where is the use of telling you what you know already, Mr. Haswell? I
have left the firm, therefore I have practically nothing."
"You have practically nothing, and yet---- Well, in my young days men
were more delicate, they did not like being called fortune-hunters,
but of course times have changed."
Alan bit his lip and Barbara sat up quite straight in her chair,
observing which indications, Mr. Haswell went on hurriedly:
"Now if you had stopped in the firm and earned the very handsome
competence in a small way which would have become due to you this
week, instead of throwing us over at the last moment for some quixotic
reasons of your own, it might have been a different matter. I do not
say it would have been, I say it might have been, and you may remember
a proverb about winks and nods and blind horses. So I ask you whether
you are inclined to withdraw that resignation of yours and bring up
this question again let us say, next Sunday?"
Alan thought a while before he answered. As he understood Mr. Haswell
practically was promising to assent to the engagement upon these
terms. The temptation was enormously great, the fiercest that he had
ever been called upon to face. He looked at Barbara. She had closed
her eyes and made absolutely no sign. For some reason of her own she
had elected that he should determine this vital point without the
slightest assistance from her. And it must be determined at once;
procrastination was impossible. For a moment he hesitated. On the one
side was Barbara, on the other his conscience. After long doubts he
had come to a certain conclusion which he quite understood to be
inconvenient to his partners. Should he throw it over now? Should he
even try to make a sure and certain bargain as the price of his
surrender? Probably he would not suffer if he did. The flotation was
underwritten and bound to go through; the scandal would come
afterwards, months or years hence, long before which he might get out,
as most of the others meant to do. No, he could not. His conscience
was too much for him.
"I do not see any use in reconsidering that question, Mr. Haswell," he
said quietly; "we settled it on Friday night."
Barbara reopened her brown eyes and stared amiably at the painted
ceiling, and Mr. Haswell whistled.
"Then I am afraid," he said, "that I do not see any use in discussing
your kind proposal for my niece's hand. Listen--I will be quite open
with you. I have other views for Barbara, and as it happens I have the
power to enforce them, or at any rate to prevent their frustration by
you. If Barbara marries against my will before she is five and twenty,
that is within the next two years, her entire fortune, with the
exception of a pittance, goes elsewhere. This I am sure is a fact that
will influence you, who have nothing and even if it did not, I presume
that you are scarcely so selfish as to wish to beggar her."
"No," answered Alan, "you need not fear that, for it would be wrong. I
understand that you absolutely refuse to sanction my suit on the
ground of my poverty, which under the circumstances is perhaps not
wonderful. Well, the only thing to do is to wait for two years, a long
time, but not endless, and meanwhile I can try to better my position."
"Do what you will, Alan," said Mr. Haswell harshly, for now all his
/faux bonhomme/ manner had gone, leaving him revealed in his true
character of an unscrupulous tradesman with dark ends of his own to
serve. "Do what you will, but understand that I forbid all
communication between you and my niece, and that the sooner you cease
to trespass upon a hospitality which you have abused, the better I
shall be pleased."
"I will go at once," said Alan, rising, "before my temper gets the
better of me and I tell you some truths that I might regret, for after
all you are Barbara's uncle. But on your part I ask you to understand
that I refuse to cut off from my cousin, who is of full age and has
promised to be my wife," and he turned to go.
"Stop a minute, Alan," said Barbara, who all this while had sat
silent. "I have something to say which I wish you to hear. You told us
just now, uncle, that you have other views for me, by which you meant
that you wish me to marry Sir Robert Aylward, whom, as you are
probably aware, I refused definitely this afternoon. Now I wish to
make it clear at once that no earthly power will induce me to take as
a husband a man whom I dislike, and whose wealth, of which you think
so much, has in my opinion been dishonestly acquired."
"What are you saying?" broke in her uncle furiously. "He has been my
partner for years, you are reflecting upon me."
"I am sorry, uncle, but I withdraw nothing. Even if Alan here were
dead, I would not marry that man, and perhaps you will make him
understand this," she added with emphasis. "Indeed I had sooner die
myself. You told us also that if I marry against your will, you can
take away all the property that my father left to me. Uncle, I shall
not give you that satisfaction. I shall wait until I am twenty-five
and do what I please with myself and my fortune. Lastly, you said that
you forbade us to see each other or to correspond. I answer that I
shall both write to and see Alan as often as I like. If you attempt to
prevent me from doing so, I shall go to the Court of Chancery, lay all
the facts before it, as I have been advised that I can do--not by Alan
--please remember, /all/ the facts, and ask for its protection and for
a separate maintenance out of my estate until I am twenty-five. I am
sure that the Court would grant me this and would declare that
considering his distinguished family and record Alan is a perfectly
proper person to be my affianced husband. I think that is all I have
to say."
"All you have to say!" gasped Mr. Haswell, "all you have to say, you
impertinent and ungrateful minx!" Then he fell into a furious fit of
rage and in language that need not be repeated, poured a stream of
threats and abuse upon Alan and herself. Barbara waited until he
ceased from exhaustion.
"Uncle," she said, "you should remember that your heart is weak and
you must not overexcite yourself, also when you are calmer, that if
you speak to me like that again, I shall go to the Court at once, for
I will not be sworn at by you or by any other man. I apologize to you,
Alan; I am afraid I have brought you into strange company. Come, my
dear, we will go and order your dogcart," and putting her arm
affectionately through his, she went with him from the room.
"I wonder who put her up to all this?" gasped Haswell, as the door
closed behind them. "Some infernal lawyer, I'll be bound. Well, she
has got the whip hand of me, and I can't face an investigation in
Chancery, especially as the only thing against Vernon is that the
value of his land has fallen. But I swear that she shall never marry
him while I live," he ended in a kind of shout and the domed and
painted ceiling echoed back his words--"/while I live/" after which
the room was silent, save for the heavy thumping of his heart.
When Alan reached home that night after his ten-mile drive he sent
Jeekie to tell the housekeeper to find him some food. In his
mysterious African fashion the negro had already collected much
intelligence as to the events of the day, mostly in the servants'
hall, and more particularly from the two golf-caddies, sons of one of
the gardeners, who it seemed instead of retiring with the clubs, had
taken shelter in some tall whins and thence followed the interview
between Barbara and Sir Robert with the intensest interest. Reflecting
that this was not the time to satisfy his burning curiosity, Jeekie
went and in due course returned with some cold mutton and a bottle of
claret. Then came his chance, for Alan could scarcely touch the mutton
and demanded toast and butter.
"Very inferior chop"--that was his West African word for food--"for a
gentleman, Major," he said, shaking his white head sympathetically and
pointing to the mutton,--"specially when he has unexpectedly departed
from magnificent eating of The Court. Why did you not wait till after
dinner, Major, before retiring?"
Alan laughed at the man's inflated English, and answered in a more
nervous and colloquial style:
"Because I was kicked out, Jeekie."
"Ah! I gathered that kicking was in the wind, Major. Sir Robert
Aylward, Bart., he also was kicked out, but by smaller toe."
Again Alan laughed and, as it was a relief to talk even to Jeekie,
asked him:
"How do you know that?"
"I gathered it out of atmosphere, Major; from Sir Robert's gentleman,
from two youths who watch Sir Robert and Miss Barbara talking upon
golf green No. 9, from the machine driver of Sir Robert whose eyes he
damn in public, and last but not least from his own noble
countenance."
"I see that you are observant, Jeekie."
"Observation, Major, it is art of life. I see Miss Barbara's eyes red
like morning sky and I deduct. I see you shot out and gloomy like
evening cloud, and I deduct. I listen at door of Mr. Haswell's room, I
hear him curse and swear like holy saint in Book, and you and Miss
Barbara answer him not like saint, though what you speak I cannot
hear, and I deduct. Jeekie deduct this--that you make love to Miss
Barbara in proper gentlemanlike, 'nogamous, Christian fashion such as
your late Reverend Uncle approve, and Miss Barbara, she make love to
you with ten per cent. compound interest, but old gent with whistle,
he /not/ approve; he say, 'Where corresponding cash!' He say 'Noble
Sir Robert have much cash and interested in identical business. I
prefer Sir Robert. Get out, you Cashless.' Often I see this same thing
when boy in West Africa, very common wherever sun shine. I note all
these matters and I deduct--that Jeekie's way and Jeekie seldom
wrong."
Alan laughed for the third time, until the tears ran down his face
indeed.
"Jeekie," he said, "you are a great rascal----"
"Yes, yes," interrupted Jeekie, "great rascal. Best thing to be in
this world, Major. Honourable Sir Robert, Bart., M.P., and Mr.
Champers-Haswell, D.L., J.P., they find that out long ago and sit on
top of tree of opulent renown. Jeekie great rascal and therefore have
Savings Bank account--go on, Major."
"Well, Jeekie, because if you are a rascal you are kind-hearted and
because I believe that you care for me----"
"Oh! Major," broke in Jeekie again, "that most 'utterably true. Honour
bright I love you, Major, better than anyone on earth, except my late
old woman, now happily dead, gone and forgotten in best oak coffin, £4
10 without fittings but polished, and perhaps your holy uncle,
Reverend Mr. Austin, also coffined and departed, who saved me from
early extinction in a dark place. Major, I no like graves, I see too
much of them, and can't tell what lie on other side. Though everyone
say they know, Jeekie not quite sure. May be all light and crowns of
glory, may be damp black hole and no way out. But this at least true,
that I love you better, yes, better than Miss Barbara, for love of
woman very poor, uncertain thing, quick come, quick go. Jeekie find
that out--often. Yes, if need be, though death most nasty, if need be
I say I die for you, which great unpleasant sacrifice," and Jeekie in
the genuine enthusiasm of his warm heart, throwing himself upon his
knees after the African fashion, seized his master's hand and kissed
it.
"Thanks, Jeekie," said Alan, "very kind of you, I am sure. But we
haven't come to that yet, though no one knows what may happen later
on. Now sit upon that chair and take a little whisky--not too much--
for I am going to ask your advice."
"Major," said Jeekie, "I obey," and seizing the whisky bottle in a
casual manner, he poured out half a tumbler full, for Jeekie was fond
of whisky. Indeed before now this taste had brought him into conflict
with the local magistrates.
"Put back three parts of that," said Alan, and Jeekie did so. "Now,"
he went on, "listen: this is the case, Miss Barbara and I are----" and
he hesitated.
"Oh! I know; like me and Mrs. Jeekie once," said Jeekie, gulping down
some of the neat whisky. "Go on, Major."
"And Sir Robert Aylward is----"
"Same thing, Major. Continue."
"And Mr. Haswell has----"
"Those facts all ascertained, Major," said Jeekie, contemplating his
glass with a mournful eye. "Now come to the point, Major."
"Well, the point is, Jeekie, that I am what you called just now
cashless, and therefore----"
"Therefore," interrupted Jeekie again, "stick fast in honourable
intention towards Miss Barbara owing to obstinate opposition of Mr.
Haswell, legal uncle with control of property fomented by noble Sir
Robert who desire same girl."
"Quite right, Jeekie, but if you would talk a little less and let me
talk a little more, we might get on better."
"I henceforth silent, Major," and lifting his empty tumbler Jeekie
looked through it as if it were a telescope, a hint that Alan ignored.
"Jeekie, you infernal old fool, I want money."
"Yes, Major, I understand, Major. Forgive me for breaking conspiracy
of silence, but if £500 in Savings Bank any use, very much at your
service, Major; also £20 more extracted last night from terror of
wealthy Jew who fear fetish."
"Jeekie, you old donkey, I don't want your £500; I want a great deal
more, £50,000 or £500,000. Tell me how to get it."
"City best place, Major. But you chuck City, too much honest man,
great mistake to be honest in this terrestrial sphere. Often notice
that in West Africa."
"Perhaps, Jeekie, but I have done with the City. As you would say, for
me it is 'wipe out, finish.'"
"Yes, Major, too much pickpocket, too much dirt. Bottom always drop
out of bucket shop at last. I understand, end in police court and
severe magistrate, or perhaps even 'Gentlemen of Jury'; etcetera."
"Well, Jeekie, then what remains? Now last night when you told us that
amazing yarn of yours, you said something about a mountain full of
gold, and houses full of gold, among your people. Jeekie, do you
think----" and he paused, looking at him.
Jeekie rolled his black eyes round the room and in a fit of
absentmindedness helped himself to some more whisky.
"Do I think, Major, that this useless lucre could be converted into
coin of gracious King Edward? Not at all, Major, by no one, Major, by
no one whatsoever, except possibly by Major Alan Vernon, D.S.O., and
by one, Jeekie, Christian surname Smith."
"Proceed, Jeekie," said Alan, removing the whisky bottle, "proceed and
explain."
"Major, thus: The Asiki tribe care nothing about all that gold, it no
good to them. Dead people who live long, long ago, no one know when,
dig it up and store it there and make the great fetish which they call
Bonsa to keep away enemy who want to steal. Also old custom when any
one in country round find big nugget, or pretty stone, like ladies
wear on bosom, to bring it as offering to Bonsa, so that there now
great plenty of all this stuff. But no one use it for anything except
to set on walls of house of Asiki, or to make basin, stool, table and
pot to cook with. Once Arab come there and I see the priests give him
weight in gold for iron hoe, though afterwards they murder him, not
for the gold, but lest he go away and tell their secret."
"One might trade with them then, Jeekie?"
He shook his white head doubtfully.
"Yes, perhaps, if you can find anything they want buy and can carry it
there. But I think there only one thing they want, and you got that,
Major."
"I, Jeekie! What have I got?"
The negro leant forward and tapped his master on the knee, saying in a
portentous whisper:
"You got Little Bonsa, which much more holy than anything, even than
Big Bonsa her husband, I mean greater, more powerful devil. That
Little Bonsa sit in front room Asika's house, and when she want see
things, she put it in big basin of gold, but I no tell you what it
float in. Also once or twice every year they take out Little Bonsa;
Asika wear it on head as mask, and whoever they meet they kill as
offering to Little Bonsa, so that spirit come back to world to be
priest of Bonsa. I tell you, Major, that Yellow God see many thousand
of people die."
"Indeed," said Alan. "A pleasing fetish truly. I should think that the
Asiki must be glad it is gone."
"No, not glad, very sorry. No luck for them when Little Bonsa go away,
but plenty luck for those who got her. That why firm Aylward & Haswell
make so much money when you join them and bring her to office. She
drop green in eye of public so they no smell rat. That why you so
lucky, not die of blackwater fever when you should; get safe out of
den of thieves in City with good name; win love of sweet maiden, Miss
Barbara. Little Bonsa do all those things for you, and by and by do
plenty more, as Little Bonsa bring my old master, your holy uncle,
safe out of that country because all the Asiki run away when they see
him wear her on head, for they think she come sacrifice them after she
eat up my life."
"I don't wonder that they ran," said Alan, laughing, for the vision of
a missionary with Little Bonsa on his head caught his fancy. "But come
to the point, you old heathen. What do you mean that I should do?"
"Jeekie not heathen now, Major, but plenty other things true in this
world, besides Christian religion. I no want you do anything, but I
say this--you go back to Asiki wearing Little Bonsa on head and
dressed like Reverend uncle whom you very like, for he just your age
then thirty years ago, and they give you all the gold you want, if you
give them back Little Bonsa whom they love and worship for ever and
ever, for Little Bonsa very, very old."
Alan sat up in his chair and stared at Jeekie, while Jeekie nodded his
head at him.
"There is something in it," he said slowly, speaking more to himself
than to the negro, "and perhaps that is why I would not sell the
fetish, for as you say, there are plenty of true things in the world
besides those which we believe. But, Jeekie, how should I find the
way?"
"No trouble, Major, Little Bonsa find way, want to get back home, very
hungry by now, much need sacrifice. Think it good thing kill pig to
Little Bonsa--or even lamb. She know you do your best, since human
being not to be come at in Christian land, and say 'thank you for life
of pig.'"
"Stop that rubbish," said Alan. "I want a guide; if I go, will you
come with me?"
At this suggestion the negro looked exceedingly uncomfortable.
"Not like to, not like to at all," he said, rolling his eyes. "Asiki-
land very funny place for native-born. But," he added sadly, "if you
go Jeekie must, for I servant of Little Bonsa and if I stay behind,
she angry and kill me because I not attend her where she walk. But
perhaps if I go and take her to Gold House again, she pleased and let
me off. Also I able help you there. Yes, if you and Little Bonsa go,
think I go too."
After this announcement Jeekie rose and walked down the room, carrying
the cold mutton in his hand. Then he returned, replaced it on the
table and standing in front of Alan, said earnestly:
"Major, I tell you all truth, just this once. Jeekie believe he /got/
go with you to Asiki-land. Jeekie have plenty bad dream lately, Little
Bonsa come in middle of the night and sit on his stomach and scratch
his face with her gold leg, and say, 'Jeekie, Jeekie, you son of
Bonsa, you get up quick and take me back Bonsa Town, for I darned
tired of City fog and finished all I come here to do. Now I want jolly
good sacrifice and got plenty business attend to there at home, things
you not understand just yet. You take me back sharp, or I make you sit
up, Jeekie, my boy;'" and he paused.
"Indeed," said Alan; "and did she tell you anything else in her
midnight visitations?"
"Yes, Major. She say, 'You take that white master of yours along also,
for I want come back Asiki-land on his head, and someone wish see him
there, old pal, what he forget but what not forget him. You tell him
Little Bonsa got score she wants settle with that party and wish use
him to square account. You tell him too that she pay him well for
trip; he lose nothing if he play her game 'cause she got no score
against him. But if he not go, that another matter, then he look out,
for Little Bonsa very nasty customer if she riled, as his late
partners find out one day.'"
"Oh! shut up, Jeekie. What's the use of wasting time telling me your
nightmares?"
"Very well, Major, just as you like, Major. But I got other reasons
why I willing go. Jeekie want see his ma."
"Your ma? I never heard you had a ma. Besides she must be dead long
ago."
"No, Major, 'cause she turn up in dream too, very much alive, swear at
me 'cause I bag her blanket. Also she tough old woman, take lot kill
her."
"Perhaps you have a pa too," suggested Alan.
"Think not, Major, my ma always say she forget him. What she mean, she
not like talk about him, he such a swell. Why Jeekie so strong, so
clever and with such beautiful face? No doubt because he is son of
very great man. All this true reason why he want to go with you,
Major. Still, p'raps poor old Jeekie make mistake, p'raps he dream
'cause he eat too much supper, p'raps his ma dead, after all. If so,
p'raps better stay at home--not know."
"No," answered Alan, "not know. What between Little Bonsa and one
thing and another my head is swimming--like Little Bonsa in the
water."
"Big Bonsa swim in water," interrupted Jeekie. "Little Bonsa swim in
gold tub."
"Well, Big Bonsa, or Little Bonsa, I don't care which. I'm going to
bed and you had better clear away these things and do the same. But,
Jeekie, if you say a word of our talk to anyone, I shall be very
angry. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Major, I understand. I understand that if I tell secrets of
Little Bonsa to anyone except you with whom she live in strange land
far away from home, Little Bonsa come at me like one lion, and cut my
throat. No fear Jeekie split on Little Bonsa, oh! no fear at all," and
still shaking his head solemnly, for the second time he seized the
cold mutton and vanished from the room.
"A farrago of superstitious nonsense," thought Alan to himself when he
had gone. "But still there may be something to be made out of it.
Evidently there is lots of gold in this Asiki country, if only one can
persuade the people to deal."
Then weary of Jeekie and his tribal gods, Alan lit his pipe and sat a
while thinking of Barbara and all the events of that tumultuous day.
Notwithstanding his rebuff at the hands of Mr. Haswell and the
difficulties and dangers which threatened, he felt even then that it
had been a happy and a fortunate day. For had he not discovered that
Barbara loved him with all her heart and soul as he loved Barbara? And
as this was so, he did not care a--Little Bonsa about anything else.
The future must look to itself, sufficient to the day was the abiding
joy thereof.
So he went to bed and for a while to sleep, but he did not sleep very
long, for presently he fell to dreaming, something about Big Bonsa and
Little Bonsa which sat, or rather floated on either side of his couch
and held an interminable conversation over him, while Jeekie and Sir
Robert Aylward, perched respectively at its head and its foot, like
the symbols of the good and evil genii on a Mahommedan tomb, acted as
a kind of insane chorus. He struck his repeater, it was only one
o'clock, so he tried to go to sleep again, but failed utterly. Never
had he been more painfully awake.
For an hour or more Alan persevered, then at last in despair he jumped
out of bed wondering what he could do to occupy his mind. Suddenly he
remembered the diary of his uncle, the Rev. Mr. Austin, which he had
inherited with the Yellow God and a few other possessions, but never
examined. They had been put away in a box in the library about fifteen
years before, just at the time he entered the army, and there
doubtless they remained. Well, as he could not sleep, why should he
not examine them now, and thus get through some of this weary night?
He lit a candle and went down to the library, an ancient and beautiful
apartment with black oak panelling between the bookcases, set there in
the time of Elizabeth. In this panelling there were cupboards, and in
one of the cupboards was the box he sought, made of teak wood. On its
lid was painted, "The Reverend Henry Austin. Passenger to Acra,"
showing that it had once been his uncle's cabin box. The key hung from
the handle, and having lit more candles, Alan drew it out and unlocked
it, to be greeted by a smell of musty documents done up in great
bundles. One by one he placed them on the floor. It was a dreary
occupation alone there in that great, silent room at the dead of
night, one indeed with which he was soon satisfied, for somehow it
reminded him of rifling coffins in a vault. Before him so carefully
put away lay the records of a good if not a distinguished life, and
until this moment he had never found the energy even to look through
them.
At length he came to the end of the bundles and saw that beneath lay a
number of manuscript books packed closely with their backs upwards,
marked--"Journal"--and with the year and sometimes the place of the
author's residence. As he glanced at them in dismay, for they were
many, his eye caught the title of one inscribed--as were several
others--"West Africa," and written in brackets beneath--"This vol.
contains all that is left of the notes of my escape with Jeekie from
the Asiki Devil-worshippers."
Alan drew it out, and having refilled and closed the box, bore it off
to his room, where he proceeded to read it in bed. As a matter of fact
he found that there was not very much to read, for the reason that
most of the closely-written volume had been so damaged by water, that
the pencilled writing had run and become utterly illegible. The centre
pages, however, not having been soaked, could still be deciphered, at
any rate in part, also there was a large manuscript map, executed in
ink, apparently at a later date, on the back of which was written: "I
purpose, D.V., to re-write at some convenient time all the history of
my visit to the unknown Asiki people, as my original notes were
practically destroyed when the canoe overset in the rapids and most of
our few possessions were lost, except this book and the gold fetish
mask which is called Little Bonsa or Small Swimming Head. This I think
I can do with the aid of Jeekie from memory, but as the matter has
only a personal and no religious interest, seeing that I was not able
even to preach the Word among those benighted and blood-thirsty
savages in whose country, as I verily believe, the Devil has one of
his principal habitations, it must stand over till a convenient
season, such as the time of old age or sickness. H.A."
"P.S. I ought to add with gratitude that even out of this hell fire I
was enabled to snatch one brand from the burning, namely, the negro
lad, Jeekie, to whose extraordinary resource and faithfulness I owe my
escape. After a long hesitation I have been able to baptize him,
although I fear that the taint of heathenism still clings to him. Thus
not six months ago I caught him sacrificing a white cock to the image,
Little Bonsa, in gratitude, as to my horror he explained, for my
having been appointed an Honorary Canon of the Cathedral. I have told
him to take that ugly mask which has been so often soaked in human
blood, and melt it down over the kitchen stove, after picking out the
gems in the eyes, that the proceeds may be given to the poor. /Note./
I had better see to this myself, as where Little Bonsa is concerned,
Jeekie is not to be trusted. He says (with some excuse) that it has
magic, and that if he melts it down, he will melt down too, and so
shall I. How dark and ridiculous are the superstitions of the heathen!
Perhaps, however, instead of destroying the thing, which is certainly
unique, I might sell it to a museum, and thus spare the feelings of
that weak vessel, Jeekie, who otherwise would very likely take it into
his head to waste away and die, as these Africans do when their nerves
are affected by terror of their fetish."
