CHAPTER III
Jacobus having put me in mind of his wealthy brother I concluded I
would pay that business call at once. I had by that time heard a
little more of him. He was a member of the Council, where he made
himself objectionable to the authorities. He exercised a
considerable influence on public opinion. Lots of people owed him
money. He was an importer on a great scale of all sorts of goods.
For instance, the whole supply of bags for sugar was practically in
his hands. This last fact I did not learn till afterwards. The
general impression conveyed to me was that of a local personage.
He was a bachelor and gave weekly card-parties in his house out of
town, which were attended by the best people in the colony.
The greater, then, was my surprise to discover his office in shabby
surroundings, quite away from the business quarter, amongst a lot
of hovels. Guided by a black board with white lettering, I climbed
a narrow wooden staircase and entered a room with a bare floor of
planks littered with bits of brown paper and wisps of packing
straw. A great number of what looked like wine-cases were piled up
against one of the walls. A lanky, inky, light-yellow, mulatto
youth, miserably long-necked and generally recalling a sick
chicken, got off a three-legged stool behind a cheap deal desk and
faced me as if gone dumb with fright. I had some difficulty in
persuading him to take in my name, though I could not get from him
the nature of his objection. He did it at last with an almost
agonised reluctance which ceased to be mysterious to me when I
heard him being sworn at menacingly with savage, suppressed growls,
then audibly cuffed and finally kicked out without any concealment
whatever; because he came back flying head foremost through the
door with a stifled shriek.
To say I was startled would not express it. I remained still, like
a man lost in a dream. Clapping both his hands to that part of his
frail anatomy which had received the shock, the poor wretch said to
me simply:
"Will you go in, please." His lamentable self-possession was
wonderful; but it did not do away with the incredibility of the
experience. A preposterous notion that I had seen this boy
somewhere before, a thing obviously impossible, was like a delicate
finishing touch of weirdness added to a scene fit to raise doubts
as to one's sanity. I stared anxiously about me like an awakened
somnambulist.
"I say," I cried loudly, "there isn't a mistake, is there? This is
Mr. Jacobus's office."
The boy gazed at me with a pained expression--and somehow so
familiar! A voice within growled offensively:
"Come in, come in, since you are there. . . . I didn't know."
I crossed the outer room as one approaches the den of some unknown
wild beast; with intrepidity but in some excitement. Only no wild
beast that ever lived would rouse one's indignation; the power to
do that belongs to the odiousness of the human brute. And I was
very indignant, which did not prevent me from being at once struck
by the extraordinary resemblance of the two brothers.
This one was dark instead of being fair like the other; but he was
as big. He was without his coat and waistcoat; he had been
doubtless snoozing in the rocking-chair which stood in a corner
furthest from the window. Above the great bulk of his crumpled
white shirt, buttoned with three diamond studs, his round face
looked swarthy. It was moist; his brown moustache hung limp and
ragged. He pushed a common, cane-bottomed chair towards me with
his foot.
"Sit down."
I glanced at it casually, then, turning my indignant eyes full upon
him, I declared in precise and incisive tones that I had called in
obedience to my owners' instructions.
"Oh! Yes. H'm! I didn't understand what that fool was saying. .
. . But never mind! It will teach the scoundrel to disturb me at
this time of the day," he added, grinning at me with savage
cynicism.
I looked at my watch. It was past three o'clock--quite the full
swing of afternoon office work in the port. He snarled
imperiously: "Sit down, Captain."
I acknowledged the gracious invitation by saying deliberately:
"I can listen to all you may have to say without sitting down."
Emitting a loud and vehement "Pshaw!" he glared for a moment, very
round-eyed and fierce. It was like a gigantic tomcat spitting at
one suddenly. "Look at him! . . . What do you fancy yourself to
be? What did you come here for? If you won't sit down and talk
business you had better go to the devil."
"I don't know him personally," I said. "But after this I wouldn't
mind calling on him. It would be refreshing to meet a gentleman."
He followed me, growling behind my back:
"The impudence! I've a good mind to write to your owners what I
think of you."
I turned on him for a moment:
"As it happens I don't care. For my part I assure you I won't even
take the trouble to mention you to them."
He stopped at the door of his office while I traversed the littered
anteroom. I think he was somewhat taken aback.
"I will break every bone in your body," he roared suddenly at the
miserable mulatto lad, "if you ever dare to disturb me before half-
past three for anybody. D'ye hear? For anybody! . . . Let alone
any damned skipper," he added, in a lower growl.
The frail youngster, swaying like a reed, made a low moaning sound.
I stopped short and addressed this sufferer with advice. It was
prompted by the sight of a hammer (used for opening the wine-cases,
I suppose) which was lying on the floor.
"If I were you, my boy, I would have that thing up my sleeve when I
went in next and at the first occasion I would--"
What was there so familiar in that lad's yellow face? Entrenched
and quaking behind the flimsy desk, he never looked up. His heavy,
lowered eyelids gave me suddenly the clue of the puzzle. He
resembled--yes, those thick glued lips--he resembled the brothers
Jacobus. He resembled both, the wealthy merchant and the pushing
shopkeeper (who resembled each other); he resembled them as much as
a thin, light-yellow mulatto lad may resemble a big, stout, middle-
aged white man. It was the exotic complexion and the slightness of
his build which had put me off so completely. Now I saw in him
unmistakably the Jacobus strain, weakened, attenuated, diluted as
it were in a bucket of water--and I refrained from finishing my
speech. I had intended to say: "Crack this brute's head for him."
I still felt the conclusion to be sound. But it is no trifling
responsibility to counsel parricide to any one, however deeply
injured.
"Beggarly--cheeky--skippers."
I despised the emphatic growl at my back; only, being much vexed
and upset, I regret to say that I slammed the door behind me in a
most undignified manner.
It may not appear altogether absurd if I say that I brought out
from that interview a kindlier view of the other Jacobus. It was
with a feeling resembling partisanship that, a few days later, I
called at his "store." That long, cavern-like place of business,
very dim at the back and stuffed full of all sorts of goods, was
entered from the street by a lofty archway. At the far end I saw
my Jacobus exerting himself in his shirt-sleeves among his
assistants. The captains' room was a small, vaulted apartment with
a stone floor and heavy iron bars in its windows like a dungeon
converted to hospitable purposes. A couple of cheerful bottles and
several gleaming glasses made a brilliant cluster round a tall,
cool red earthenware pitcher on the centre table which was littered
with newspapers from all parts of the world. A well-groomed
stranger in a smart grey check suit, sitting with one leg flung
over his knee, put down one of these sheets briskly and nodded to
me.
I guessed him to be a steamer-captain. It was impossible to get to
know these men. They came and went too quickly and their ships lay
moored far out, at the very entrance of the harbour. Theirs was
another life altogether. He yawned slightly.
"Dull hole, isn't it?"
I understood this to allude to the town.
"Do you find it so?" I murmured.
"Don't you? But I'm off to-morrow, thank goodness."
He was a very gentlemanly person, good-natured and superior. I
watched him draw the open box of cigars to his side of the table,
take a big cigar-case out of his pocket and begin to fill it very
methodically. Presently, on our eyes meeting, he winked like a
common mortal and invited me to follow his example. "They are
really decent smokes." I shook my head.
"I am not off to-morrow."
"What of that? Think I am abusing old Jacobus's hospitality?
Heavens! It goes into the bill, of course. He spreads such little
matters all over his account. He can take care of himself! Why,
it's business--"
I noted a shadow fall over his well-satisfied expression, a
momentary hesitation in closing his cigar-case. But he ended by
putting it in his pocket jauntily. A placid voice uttered in the
doorway: "That's quite correct, Captain."
The large noiseless Jacobus advanced into the room. His quietness,
in the circumstances, amounted to cordiality. He had put on his
jacket before joining us, and he sat down in the chair vacated by
the steamer-man, who nodded again to me and went out with a short,
jarring laugh. A profound silence reigned. With his drowsy stare
Jacobus seemed to be slumbering open-eyed. Yet, somehow, I was
aware of being profoundly scrutinised by those heavy eyes. In the
enormous cavern of the store somebody began to nail down a case,
expertly: tap-tap . . . tap-tap-tap.
Two other experts, one slow and nasal, the other shrill and snappy,
started checking an invoice.
"A half-coil of three-inch manilla rope."
"Right!"
"Six assorted shackles."
"Right!"
"Six tins assorted soups, three of pate, two asparagus, fourteen
pounds tobacco, cabin."
"Right!"
"It's for the captain who was here just now," breathed out the
immovable Jacobus. "These steamer orders are very small. They
pick up what they want as they go along. That man will be in
Samarang in less than a fortnight. Very small orders indeed."
The calling over of the items went on in the shop; an extraordinary
jumble of varied articles, paint-brushes, Yorkshire Relish, etc.,
etc. . . . "Three sacks of best potatoes," read out the nasal
voice.
At this Jacobus blinked like a sleeping man roused by a shake, and
displayed some animation. At his order, shouted into the shop, a
smirking half-caste clerk with his ringlets much oiled and with a
pen stuck behind his ear, brought in a sample of six potatoes which
he paraded in a row on the table.
Being urged to look at their beauty I gave them a cold and hostile
glance. Calmly, Jacobus proposed that I should order ten or
fifteen tons--tons! I couldn't believe my ears. My crew could not
have eaten such a lot in a year; and potatoes (excuse these
practical remarks) are a highly perishable commodity. I thought he
was joking--or else trying to find out whether I was an unutterable
idiot. But his purpose was not so simple. I discovered that he
meant me to buy them on my own account.
"I am proposing you a bit of business, Captain. I wouldn't charge
you a great price."
I told him that I did not go in for trade. I even added grimly
that I knew only too well how that sort of spec. generally ended.
He sighed and clasped his hands on his stomach with exemplary
resignation. I admired the placidity of his impudence. Then
waking up somewhat:
"Won't you try a cigar, Captain?"
"No, thanks. I don't smoke cigars."
"For once!" he exclaimed, in a patient whisper. A melancholy
silence ensued. You know how sometimes a person discloses a
certain unsuspected depth and acuteness of thought; that is, in
other words, utters something unexpected. It was unexpected enough
to hear Jacobus say:
"The man who just went out was right enough. You might take one,
Captain. Here everything is bound to be in the way of business."
I felt a little ashamed of myself. The remembrance of his horrid
brother made him appear quite a decent sort of fellow. It was with
some compunction that I said a few words to the effect that I could
have no possible objection to his hospitality.
Before I was a minute older I saw where this admission was leading
me. As if changing the subject, Jacobus mentioned that his private
house was about ten minutes' walk away. It had a beautiful old
walled garden. Something really remarkable. I ought to come round
some day and have a look at it.
He seemed to be a lover of gardens. I too take extreme delight in
them; but I did not mean my compunction to carry me as far as
Jacobus's flower-beds, however beautiful and old. He added, with a
certain homeliness of tone:
"There's only my girl there."
It is difficult to set everything down in due order; so I must
revert here to what happened a week or two before. The medical
officer of the port had come on board my ship to have a look at one
of my crew who was ailing, and naturally enough he was asked to
step into the cabin. A fellow-shipmaster of mine was there too;
and in the conversation, somehow or other, the name of Jacobus came
to be mentioned. It was pronounced with no particular reverence by
the other man, I believe. I don't remember now what I was going to
say. The doctor--a pleasant, cultivated fellow, with an assured
manner--prevented me by striking in, in a sour tone:
"Ah! You're talking about my respected papa-in-law."
Of course, that sally silenced us at the time. But I remembered
the episode, and at this juncture, pushed for something
noncommittal to say, I inquired with polite surprise:
"You have your married daughter living with you, Mr. Jacobus?"
He moved his big hand from right to left quietly. No! That was
another of his girls, he stated, ponderously and under his breath
as usual. She . . . He seemed in a pause to be ransacking his mind
for some kind of descriptive phrase. But my hopes were
disappointed. He merely produced his stereotyped definition.
"She's a very different sort of person."
"Indeed. . . . And by the by, Jacobus, I called on your brother the
other day. It's no great compliment if I say that I found him a
very different sort of person from you."
He had an air of profound reflection, then remarked quaintly:
"He's a man of regular habits."
He might have been alluding to the habit of late siesta; but I
mumbled something about "beastly habits anyhow"--and left the store
abruptly.
