any money. Then he, protesting to us that he was an honest man and
must be believed, described himself as being a thief
whenever he
took a drop too much, and told us that he went on board and passed
the rifles one by one without the slightest compunction to a canoe
which came
alongside that night, receiving ten dollars
apiece for
them.
"Next day he was ill with shame and grief, but had not the courage
to
confess his lapse to his
benefactor. When the gunboat stopped
the brig he felt ready to die with the
apprehension of the
consequences, and would have died happily, if he could have been
able to bring the rifles back by the sacrifice of his life. He
said nothing to Jasper, hoping that the brig would be released
presently. When it turned out
otherwise and his captain was
detained on board the gunboat, he was ready to
commitsuicide from
despair; only he thought it his duty to live in order to let the
truth be known. 'I am an honest man! I am an honest man!' he
repeated, in a voice that brought tears to our eyes. 'You must
believe me when I tell you that I am a thief - a vile, low,
cunning, sneaking thief as soon as I've had a glass or two. Take
me somewhere where I may tell the truth on oath.'
"When we had at last convinced him that his story could be of no
use to Jasper - for what Dutch court, having once got hold of an
English
trader, would accept such an
explanation; and, indeed, how,
when, where could one hope to find proofs of such a tale? - he made
as if to tear his hair in handfuls, but, calming down, said:
'Good-bye, then, gentlemen,' and went out of the room so crushed
that he seemed hardly able to put one foot before the other. That
very night he
committed
suicide by cutting his
throat in the house
of a half-caste with whom he had been
lodging since he came ashore
from the wreck."
That
throat, I thought with a
shudder, which could produce the
tender,
persuasive, manly, but
fascinating voice which had aroused
Jasper's ready
passion" target="_blank" title="n.同情;怜悯">
compassion and had secured Freya's sympathy! Who
could ever have
supposed such an end in store for the impossible,
gentle Schultz, with his idiosyncrasy of naive pilfering, so
absurdly straightforward that, even in the people who had suffered
from it, it aroused nothing more than a sort of amused
exasperation? He was really impossible. His lot
evidently should
have been a half-starved,
mysterious, but by no means tragic
existence as a mild-eyed, inoffensive beachcomber on the
fringe of
native life. There are occasions when the irony of fate, which
some people
profess to discover in the
working out of our lives,
wears the
aspect of crude and
savage jesting.
I shook my head over the manes of Schultz, and went on with my
friend's letter. It told me how the brig on the reef, looted by
the natives from the coast villages, acquired gradually the
lamentable
aspect, the grey ghastliness of a wreck; while Jasper,
fading daily into a mere shadow of a man,
strode brusquely all
along the "front" with
horriblylively eyes and a faint, fixed
smile on his lips, to spend the day on a
lonely spit of sand
looking
eagerly at her, as though he had expected some shape on
board to rise up and make some sort of sign to him over the
decaying bulwarks. The Mesmans were
taking care of him as far as
it was possible. The Bonito case had been referred to Batavia,
where no doubt it would fade away in a fog of official papers. . .
. It was heartrending to read all this. That active and zealous
officer, Lieutenant Heemskirk, his air of
sullen, darkly-pained
self-importance not lightened by the
approval of his action
conveyed to him unofficially, had gone on to take up his station in
the Moluccas. . . .
Then, at the end of the bulky, kindly-meant
epistle,
dealing with
the island news of half a year at least, my friend wrote: "A
couple of months ago old Nelson turned up here, arriving by the
mail-boat from Java. Came to see Mesman, it seems. A rather
mysterious visit, and
extraordinarily short, after coming all that
way. He stayed just four days at the Orange House, with apparently
nothing in particular to do, and then caught the south-going
steamer for the Straits. I remember people
saying at one time that
Allen was rather sweet on old Nelson's daughter, the girl that was