it
seems. Jim called her by a word that means precious, in the sense of a
precious gem--jewel. Pretty, isn't it? But he was capable of anything.
He was equal to his fortune, as he--after all--must have been equal to
his misfortune. Jewel he called her; and he would say this as he might
have said "Jane," don't you know--with a marital, homelike, peaceful
effect. I heard the name for the first time ten minutes after I had
landed in his courtyard, when, after nearly shaking my arm off, he
darted up the steps and began to make a joyous, boyish disturbance at
the door under the heavy eaves. "Jewel! O Jewel! Quick! Here's a friend
come," . . . and suddenly peering at me in the dim verandah, he mumbled
earnestly, "You know--this--no confounded nonsense about it--can't tell
you how much I owe to her--and so--you understand--I--exactly as
if . . ." His hurried, anxious whispers were cut short by the flitting of
a white form within the house, a faint exclamation, and a child-like but
energetic little face with delicate features and a profound, attentive
glance peeped out of the inner gloom, like a bird out of the recess of a
nest. I was struck by the name, of course; but it was not till later
on that I connected it with an astonishing rumour that had met me on my
journey, at a little place on the coast about 230 miles south of Patusan
River. Stein's schooner, in which I had my passage, put in there, to
collect some produce, and, going ashore, I found to my great surprise
that the wretched locality could boast of a third-class deputy-assistant
resident, a big, fat, greasy, blinking fellow of mixed descent, with
turned-out, shiny lips. I found him lying extended on his back in a cane
chair, odiously unbuttoned, with a large green leaf of some sort on the
top of his steaming head, and another in his hand which he used lazily
as a fan . . . Going to Patusan? Oh yes. Stein's Trading Company. He
knew. Had a permission? No business of his. It was not so bad there now,
he remarked negligently, and, he went on drawling, "There's some sort of
white vagabond has got in there, I hear. . . . Eh? What you say?
Friend of yours? So! . . . Then it was true there was one of these
verdammte--What was he up to? Found his way in, the rascal. Eh? I had
not been sure. Patusan--they cut throats there--no business of ours." He
interrupted himself to groan. "Phoo! Almighty! The heat! The heat! Well,
then, there might be something in the story too, after all