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Ebb-Tide: A Trio And Quartette, The
PART II. THE QUARTETTE   PART II. THE QUARTETTE - CHAPTER 9. THE DINNER PARTY
Robert Louis Stevenson
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       _ They sat down to an island dinner, remarkable for its variety and
       excellence; turtle soup and steak, fish, fowls, a sucking pig, a
       cocoanut salad, and sprouting cocoanut roasted for dessert. Not a tin
       had been opened; and save for the oil and vinegar in the salad, and some
       green spears of onion which Attwater cultivated and plucked with his own
       hand, not even the condiments were European. Sherry, hock, and claret
       succeeded each other, and the Farallone champagne brought up the rear
       with the dessert.
       It was plain that, like so many of the extremely religious in the
       days before teetotalism, Attwater had a dash of the epicure. For such
       characters it is softening to eat well; doubly so to have designed and
       had prepared an excellent meal for others; and the manners of their host
       were agreeably mollified in consequence.
       A cat of huge growth sat on his shoulders purring, and occasionally,
       with a deft paw, capturing a morsel in the air. To a cat he might be
       likened himself, as he lolled at the head of his table, dealing
       out attentions and innuendoes, and using the velvet and the claw
       indifferently. And both Huish and the captain fell progressively under
       the charm of his hospitable freedom.
       Over the third guest, the incidents of the dinner may be said to have
       passed for long unheeded. Herrick accepted all that was offered him, ate
       and drank without tasting, and heard without comprehension. His mind
       was singly occupied in contemplating the horror of the circumstances in
       which he sat. What Attwater knew, what the captain designed, from which
       side treachery was to be first expected, these were the ground of his
       thoughts. There were times when he longed to throw down the table and
       flee into the night. And even that was debarred him; to do anything,
       to say anything, to move at all, were only to precipitate the barbarous
       tragedy; and he sat spellbound, eating with white lips. Two of his
       companions observed him narrowly, Attwater with raking, sidelong glances
       that did not interrupt his talk, the captain with a heavy and anxious
       consideration.
       'Well, I must say this sherry is a really prime article,' said Huish.
       ''Ow much does it stand you in, if it's a fair question?'
       'A hundred and twelve shillings in London, and the freight to
       Valparaiso, and on again,' said Attwater. 'It strikes one as really not
       a bad fluid.'
       'A 'undred and twelve!' murmured the clerk, relishing the wine and the
       figures in a common ecstasy: 'O my!'
       'So glad you like it,' said Attwater. 'Help yourself, Mr Whish, and keep
       the bottle by you.'
       'My friend's name is Huish and not Whish, sit,' said the captain with a
       flush.
       'I beg your pardon, I am sure. Huish and not Whish, certainly,' said
       Attwater. 'I was about to say that I have still eight dozen,' he added,
       fixing the captain with his eye.
       'Eight dozen what?' said Davis.
       'Sherry,' was the reply. 'Eight dozen excellent sherry. Why, it seems
       almost worth it in itself; to a man fond of wine.'
       The ambiguous words struck home to guilty consciences, and Huish and the
       captain sat up in their places and regarded him with a scare.
       'Worth what?' said Davis.
       'A hundred and twelve shillings,' replied Attwater.
       The captain breathed hard for a moment. He reached out far and wide to
       find any coherency in these remarks; then, with a great effort, changed
       the subject.
       'I allow we are about the first white men upon this island, sir,' said
       he.
       Attwater followed him at once, and with entire gravity, to the new
       ground. 'Myself and Dr Symonds excepted, I should say the only ones,' he
       returned. 'And yet who can tell? In the course of the ages someone may
       have lived here, and we sometimes think that someone must. The cocoa
       palms grow all round the island, which is scarce like nature's planting.
       We found besides, when we landed, an unmistakable cairn upon the beach;
       use unknown; but probably erected in the hope of gratifying some mumbo
       jumbo whose very name is forgotten, by some thick-witted gentry whose
       very bones are lost. Then the island (witness the Directory) has been
       twice reported; and since my tenancy, we have had two wrecks, both
       derelict. The rest is conjecture.'
       'Dr Symonds is your partner, I guess?' said Davis.
       'A dear fellow, Symonds! How he would regret it, if he knew you had been
       here!' said Attwater.
       ''E's on the Trinity 'All, ain't he?' asked Huish.
       'And if you could tell me where the Trinity 'All was, you would confer a
       favour, Mr Whish!' was the reply.
       'I suppose she has a native crew?' said Davis.
       'Since the secret has been kept ten years, one would suppose she had,'
       replied Attwater.
       'Well, now, see 'ere!' said Huish. 'You have everything about you in
       no end style, and no mistake, but I tell you it wouldn't do for me. Too
       much of "the old rustic bridge by the mill"; too retired, by 'alf. Give
       me the sound of Bow Bells!'
       'You must not think it was always so,' replied Attwater, 'This was once
       a busy shore, although now, hark! you can hear the solitude. I find it
       stimulating. And talking of the sound of bells, kindly follow a little
       experiment of mine in silence.' There was a silver bell at his right
       hand to call the servants; he made them a sign to stand still, struck
       the bell with force, and leaned eagerly forward. The note rose clear and
       strong; it rang out clear and far into the night and over the deserted
       island; it died into the distance until there only lingered in the
       porches of the ear a vibration that was sound no longer. 'Empty houses,
       empty sea, solitary beaches!' said Attwater. 'And yet God hears the
       bell! And yet we sit in this verandah on a lighted stage with all heaven
       for spectators! And you call that solitude?'
       There followed a bar of silence, during which the captain sat
       mesmerised.
       Then Attwater laughed softly. 'These are the diversions of a lonely,
       man,' he resumed, 'and possibly not in good taste. One tells oneself
       these little fairy tales for company. If there SHOULD happen to be
       anything in folk-lore, Mr Hay? But here comes the claret. One does not
       offer you Lafitte, captain, because I believe it is all sold to the
       railroad dining cars in your great country; but this Brine-Mouton is of
       a good year, and Mr Whish will give me news of it.'
       'That's a queer idea of yours!' cried the captain, bursting with a sigh
       from the spell that had bound him. 'So you mean to tell me now, that
       you sit here evenings and ring up... well, ring on the angels... by
       yourself?'
       'As a matter of historic fact, and since you put it directly, one does
       not,' said Attwater. 'Why ring a bell, when there flows out from oneself
       and everything about one a far more momentous silence? the least beat of
       my heart and the least thought in my mind echoing into eternity for ever
       and for ever and for ever.'
       'O look 'ere,' said Huish, 'turn down the lights at once, and the Band
       of 'Ope will oblige! This ain't a spiritual seance.'
       'No folk-lore about Mr Whish--I beg your pardon, captain: Huish not
       Whish, of course,' said Attwater.
       As the boy was filling Huish's glass, the bottle escaped from his hand
       and was shattered, and the wine spilt on the verandah floor. Instant
       grimness as of death appeared on the face of Attwater; he smote the
       bell imperiously, and the two brown natives fell into the attitude
       of attention and stood mute and trembling. There was just a moment of
       silence and hard looks; then followed a few savage words in the native;
       and, upon a gesture of dismissal, the service proceeded as before.
       None of the party had as yet observed upon the excellent bearing of the
       two men. They were dark, undersized, and well set up; stepped softly,
       waited deftly, brought on the wines and dishes at a look, and their eyes
       attended studiously on their master.
       'Where do you get your labour from anyway?' asked Davis.
       'Ah, where not?' answered Attwater.
       'Not much of a soft job, I suppose?' said the captain.
       'If you will tell me where getting labour is!' said Attwater with a
       shrug. 'And of course, in our case, as we could name no destination,
       we had to go far and wide and do the best we could. We have gone as far
       west as the Kingsmills and as far south as Rapa-iti. Pity Symonds isn't
       here! He is full of yarns. That was his part, to collect them. Then
       began mine, which was the educational.'
       'You mean to run them?' said Davis.
       'Ay! to run them,' said Attwater.
       'Wait a bit,' said Davis, 'I'm out of my depth. How was this? Do you
       mean to say you did it single-handed?'
       'One did it single-handed,' said Attwater, 'because there was nobody to
       help one.'
       'By God, but you must be a holy terror!' cried the captain, in a glow of
       admiration.
       'One does one's best,' said Attwater.
       'Well, now!' said Davis, 'I have seen a lot of driving in my time and
       been counted a good driver myself; I fought my way, third mate, round
       the Cape Horn with a push of packet rats that would have turned the
       devil out of hell and shut the door on him; and I tell you, this racket
       of Mr Attwater's takes the cake. In a ship, why, there ain't nothing to
       it! You've got the law with you, that's what does it. But put me down on
       this blame' beach alone, with nothing but a whip and a mouthful of bad
       words, and ask me to... no, SIR! it's not good enough! I haven't got the
       sand for that!' cried Davis. 'It's the law behind,' he added; 'it's the
       law does it, every time!'
       'The beak ain't as black as he's sometimes pynted,' observed Huish,
       humorously.
       'Well, one got the law after a fashion,' said Attwater. 'One had to be a
       number of things. It was sometimes rather a bore.'
       'I should smile!' said Davis. 'Rather lively, I should think!'
       'I dare say we mean the same thing,' said Attwater. 'However, one way
       or another, one got it knocked into their heads that they MUST work, and
       they DID... until the Lord took them!'
       ''Ope you made 'em jump,' said Huish.
       'When it was necessary, Mr Whish, I made them jump,' said Attwater.
       'You bet you did,' cried the captain. He was a good deal flushed, but
       not so much with wine as admiration; and his eyes drank in the huge
       proportions of the other with delight. 'You bet you did, and you bet
       that I can see you doing it! By God, you're a man, and you can say I
       said so.'
       'Too good of you, I'm sure,' said Attwater.
       'Did you--did you ever have crime here?' asked Herrick, breaking his
       silence with a pungent voice.
       'Yes,' said Attwater, 'we did.'
       'And how did you handle that, sir?' cried the eager captain.
       'Well, you see, it was a queer case,' replied Attwater, 'it was a case
       that would have puzzled Solomon. Shall I tell it you? yes?'
       The captain rapturously accepted.
       'Well,' drawled Attwater, 'here is what it was. I dare say you know two
       types of natives, which may be called the obsequious and the sullen?
       Well, one had them, the types themselves, detected in the fact; and one
       had them together. Obsequiousness ran out of the first like wine out
       of a bottle, sullenness congested in the second. Obsequiousness was all
       smiles; he ran to catch your eye, he loved to gabble; and he had about
       a dozen words of beach English, and an eighth-of-an-inch veneer of
       Christianity. Sullens was industrious; a big down-looking bee. When
       he was spoken to, he answered with a black look and a shrug of one
       shoulder, but the thing would be done. I don't give him to you for a
       model of manners; there was nothing showy about Sullens; but he was
       strong and steady, and ungraciously obedient. Now Sullens got into
       trouble; no matter how; the regulations of the place were broken, and
       he was punished accordingly--without effect. So, the next day, and the
       next, and the day after, till I began to be weary of the business, and
       Sullens (I am afraid) particularly so. There came a day when he was in
       fault again, for the--oh, perhaps the thirtieth time; and he rolled a
       dull eye upon me, with a spark in it, and appeared to speak. Now
       the regulations of the place are formal upon one point: we allow no
       explanations; none are received, none allowed to be offered. So one
       stopped him instantly; but made a note of the circumstance. The next
       day, he was gone from the settlement. There could be nothing more
       annoying; if the labour took to running away, the fishery was wrecked.
       There are sixty miles of this island, you see, all in length like the
       Queen's Highway; the idea of pursuit in such a place was a piece of
       single-minded childishness, which one did not entertain. Two days later,
       I made a discovery; it came in upon me with a flash that Sullens had
       been unjustly punished from beginning to end, and the real culprit
       throughout had been Obsequiousness. The native who talks, like the woman
       who hesitates, is lost. You set him talking and lying; and he talks, and
       lies, and watches your face to see if he has pleased you; till at
       last, out comes the truth! It came out of Obsequiousness in the regular
       course. I said nothing to him; I dismissed him; and late as it was, for
       it was already night, set off to look for Sullens. I had not far to go:
       about two hundred yards up the island, the moon showed him to me. He was
       hanging in a cocoa palm--I'm not botanist enough to tell you how--but
       it's the way, in nine cases out of ten, these natives commit suicide.
       His tongue was out, poor devil, and the birds had got at him; I spare
       you details, he was an ugly sight! I gave the business six good hours of
       thinking in this verandah. My justice had been made a fool of; I don't
       suppose that I was ever angrier. Next day, I had the conch sounded and
       all hands out before sunrise. One took one's gun, and led the way, with
       Obsequiousness. He was very talkative; the beggar supposed that all was
       right now he had confessed; in the old schoolboy phrase, he was
       plainly 'sucking up' to me; full of protestations of goodwill and
       good behaviour; to which one answered one really can't remember what.
       Presently the tree came in sight, and the hanged man. They all burst out
       lamenting for their comrade in the island way, and Obsequiousness was
       the loudest of the mourners. He was quite genuine; a noxious creature,
       without any consciousness of guilt. Well, presently--to make a long
       story short--one told him to go up the tree. He stared a bit, looked at
       one with a trouble in his eye, and had rather a sickly smile; but went.
       He was obedient to the last; he had all the pretty virtues, but the
       truth was not in him. So soon as he was up, he looked down, and there
       was the rifle covering him; and at that he gave a whimper like a dog.
       You could bear a pin drop; no more keening now. There they all crouched
       upon the ground, with bulging eyes; there was he in the tree top, the
       colour of the lead; and between was the dead man, dancing a bit in the
       air. He was obedient to the last, recited his crime, recommended his
       soul to God. And then...'
       Attwater paused, and Herrick, who had been listening attentively, made a
       convulsive movement which upset his glass.
       'And then?' said the breathless captain.
       'Shot,' said Attwater. 'They came to ground together.'
       Herrick sprang to his feet with a shriek and an insensate gesture.
       'It was a murder,' he screamed. 'A cold-hearted, bloody-minded
       murder! You monstrous being! Murderer and hypocrite--murderer and
       hypocrite--murderer and hypocrite--' he repeated, and his tongue
       stumbled among the words.
       The captain was by him in a moment. 'Herrick!' he cried, 'behave
       yourself! Here, don't be a blame' fool!'
       Herrick struggled in his embrace like a frantic child, and suddenly
       bowing his face in his hands, choked into a sob, the first of many,
       which now convulsed his body silently, and now jerked from him
       indescribable and meaningless sounds.
       'Your friend appears over-excited,' remarked Attwater, sitting unmoved
       but all alert at table.
       'It must be the wine,' replied the captain. 'He ain't no drinking
       man, you see. I--I think I'll take him away. A walk'll sober him up, I
       guess.'
       He led him without resistance out of the verandah and into the night, in
       which they soon melted; but still for some time, as they drew away,
       his comfortable voice was to be heard soothing and remonstrating, and
       Herrick answering, at intervals, with the mechanical noises of hysteria.
       ''E's like a bloomin' poultry yard!' observed Huish, helping himself to
       wine (of which he spilled a good deal) with gentlemanly ease. 'A man
       should learn to beyave at table,' he added.
       'Rather bad form, is it not?' said Attwater. 'Well, well, we are left
       tete-a-tete. A glass of wine with you, Mr Whish!' _