Part 18

His Majesty's kinsman, then, was appointed Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary, and instructed to proceed, in that capacity, to the neighbouring territory of Hampa-Denga, and inform the British Resident there that His Majesty the King of Zumba-Lumba wished to place himself under British protectorate at once.

One morning, a few days later, the Admiral lay in his hammock on deck, H.M.'s late consort in another hammock at his side, fanning him with a palm-branch. He was in the best of spirits, refreshed alike by his morning bath and an excellent breakfast. The parrots were chattering noisily in the great fragrant agaves on shore, birds of paradise rocked on the topmost crests of the palms, with impertinent young monkeys vainly trying to tweak their tails. The ex-queen chewed betel and smiled at him, and he, in return, tickled the soles of her feet till she screamed. It was a perfect little idyll; a very paradise.

Neither of the pair noticed anything unusual until suddenly a young English officer appeared on deck.

He had come, it appeared, to deliver a dispatch to the Officer Commanding the Fleet. And this is how it ran:

"SIR,--Pursuant to negotiations with His Majesty the King of Zumba-Lumba, I have the honour to inform you that His Majesty has this day placed himself under British protectorate.

"Accordingly, the Zumba-Lumba navy will henceforward be under the Administration of the Governor at Hampa-Denga and the naval station there.

"The bearer of this, Sub-Lieutenant Algernon Smith, is deputed to take over for the present the command of the Zumba-Lumba Fleet.--I have the honour to be, Sir, your obedient servant,

"C. W. MELVILLE ST. PATRICK, C.B., R.N.

"H.B.M.S. _Cyclope_, 6th February 1873."

The Admiral's first impulse was to take this young spark by the collar and throw him overboard, as he had done a day or so before with His Majesty and his wife. But on glancing over the side, he perceived, under shelter of a small island, the white painted hull of H.M.S. _Cyclope_, and thought better of it; instead, he turned to the bearer of the letter, and, with kindly condescension, invited him to come below and have a drink.

Whereupon they descended to the cabin, where the Admiral initiated his young colleague into the maritime affairs of the Zumba-Lumba.

Then the Admiral packed up his things.

He regretted that he had not a visiting-card, not even a photograph to give his successor, but handed over instead the younger wife of his late master as a trifling souvenir.

On reaching the deck, to his indescribable annoyance he perceived the King, with his brother-in-law, his four hundred warriors, and the elder wife, standing on the shore, slapping their stomachs, the superlative expression of mischievous delight in those parts.

The foregoing brief narrative is to be taken as a truthful and dispassionate account of the manner in which the Admiral attained his title and dignity.

The remainder of his doings during his sojourn abroad, before he returned to settle down in his native town on the coast, is soon told.

The Admiral was not a man to be long idle, and, as a sailor, he could always find a way. He captained vessels for Chinese and Japanese owners, both sail and steam. He started a fleet of tugs at Tientsin, and obtained a concession for dredging the harbour of Shanghai, with a host of other things, making a very considerable fortune out of the whole.

Then he turned his steps towards home, and purchased the house of his fathers on the hill just above the Custom House.

He dismantled the old place almost entirely of its furniture, and had it fitted up according to his own ideas, as a sort of bungalow.

There were weapons all over the place; spears, bows and arrows, pistols and guns of all sorts. Pot-bellied idols smirked in every corner; lion and tiger skins were spread on the floor. But the drawing-room on the ground floor and the office in the side wing, that had been his father's in the old days, he left untouched. He even went so far as to have the successive layers of wallpaper, that in course of years had been hung one over another, carefully removed one by one until he came to the identical one that had adorned the place when he was a little lad and his mother and father were still alive. Then he went about all over the town, trying to buy up the old pieces of furniture that had been sold and scattered about thirty or forty years before. He went far up into one of the outlying villages to get hold of one particular birchwood cabinet which he had learned was to be found there. He also managed to unearth his father's old writing-desk, and had it set up in its old place in the "office." And at last he really succeeded in restoring the two rooms almost completely to their former state. Then and not till then was he satisfied, and began, as it were, to live his life over again.

The Admiral was now a man about sixty. A giant of a man to look at, with hands and arms of an athlete and well proportioned.

He had a big, curved nose, a trifle over large, perhaps. And the eyes that shone out from beneath the great bushy brows were not of the sort that give way. His whole face bore the stamp of unscrupulous firmness, softened a little, however, by the heavy whiskers generally affected by naval officers in those days, and which in his case were now perfectly white.

When the Admiral came home he brought with him a little girl twelve years old. A queer little creature she was, with somewhat darker skin than we are accustomed to see, and brilliant black eyes.

"My daughter," said the Admiral, and that was all the information to be obtained from that quarter.

It was generally surmised that she must be the offspring of his alliance with the young Queen of Zumba-Lumba, who had, as we know, been on board the gunboat; _ergo_, she was of royal blood. And the whole town accordingly styled her simply "The Princess."

As to whether he had contracted other alliances elsewhere none could say, for the old servant, or lady companion, whom he had brought with him from abroad, was dumb as a door-post when the talk turned in that direction.

She was English and somewhat over fifty. Miss Jenkins was her name, but the Admiral invariably called her "Missa." Missa was the only person who ever ventured to oppose him. Now and then the pair of them might be heard arguing hotly, always in English, till at last he would shout at her: "Mind your own business, please!" This was his stock phrase for terminating an argument when he did not care to discuss the matter further.

The Princess was to be confirmed. And there was a great to-do in view of the event.

The parson, naturally enough, requested the usual particulars--parents' names, place of birth, date, certificate of vaccination, etc. The whole town was curious now, and great excitement prevailed; at last the mystery would be solved. The parson had to go down to the Admiral himself, and inform him, as politely as possible, that the law required compliance with certain formalities; an especially important point was that the names of both father and mother should be correctly stated.

"She has no mother," the Admiral categorically declared.

"But, my dear Admiral, she must have had a mother. In the ordinary course of nature...."

"The course of nature's extraordinary where she comes from."

"But you must have been married, surely?"

The Admiral glared, and his bushy brows contracted.

"Who?"

"You."

"I?" The Admiral chuckled.

"Yes," said the parson, lowering his voice a little; he was beginning to feel a trifle uncomfortable.

"Oh, in the tropics, you know, there are no such formalities."

"But surely that's immoral?"

"We don't know the word in those parts." And the Admiral rose to his feet.

The parson plucked up courage and said quietly: "But you yourself were a Christian, Admiral, were you not?"

"Mind your own business, please," answered the Admiral, at the same time opening the door politely, that the parson might slip out. The latter also availed himself of the chance; he was not without a certain uneasy feeling that if he failed to do so now, his exit might take a less peaceable form.

How the question was finally settled the writer cannot say; the fact remains that the town was no wiser than before.

The Princess was confirmed, and received into the best society of the town, as one of themselves. She was slender and finely built, with a pretty face and charming eyes. The only thing that marked her as different from the other girls was the yellowish-brown of her skin, and even this seemed to be growing fainter as the years went by.

As to her antecedents, she herself never referred to the subject, and no one was ever indelicate enough to ask her.

Altogether, then, matters were going very well indeed, both for the Admiral and the Princess. He began to feel at home in his old town, and did not regret having settled down there.

And the townsfolk, for the most part, gradually got used to the rough old fellow and his ways, though there were still a few who declared they could not "abide" him.

Consul Endresen, for instance, and Henry B. Karsten the ship-chandler were not accustomed to be treated with such utter disregard by a so-called "Admiral."

Admiral indeed! Ha, ha! The whole thing was a farce. The old humbug; he was no more an admiral than Ferryman Arne. They turned up their noses at him, but kept their distance all the same, with an instinctive feeling that he might literally go so far as to take them by the scruff of the neck if he felt like it.

The two firms were old-established and respected in the place, having occupied a leading position in the commercial life of the town for generations, by reason of their wealth, superior education and incontestable ability. And in consequence neither felt at home elsewhere than in their native place, where they were used to play first fiddle generally. There was no competition between the two; they were wise enough to realise that any such conflicting element might easily destroy the lead their fathers had established.

But they would not suffer any outsider to intrude on their domains, whether in business or in social life; here they shared in common an undisputed supremacy.

The young Karstens and Endresens were brought up according to the principles of their respective dynasties, and were sent abroad for their commercial education, that they might be properly fitted for the distinguished position they would be called to fill.

Skipper Hansen and Blacksmith Olsen's offspring found it was no easy matter to compete with them.

Wealth, however, was the only thing they really respected at heart, the old as well as the younger generation.

They would devote themselves several times a week to calculating how much the other notables might be worth, and were ill pleased that anyone should be better off than themselves.

It was even said that old Karsten took to his bed out of sheer envy on hearing that someone else had made a heap of money.

Endresen was wilier and rarely showed his feelings, but it was a well-known fact that he would be irritable and unreasonable when he heard of others making a successful deal. The clerks in his office said so.

Then came the sudden appearance of the Admiral in their midst. At first they did not understand this brutal and domineering force. The old Karstens themselves had been accounted proud and haughty enough--though perhaps not exactly brutal; but they were, as we have said, of a privileged caste. But this so-called Admiral, what was he? A scion of the town, it is true, inasmuch as he was a son of the old shipbroker who had formerly occupied the house now purchased by the newcomer. But he, the father, that is, had been no more than a "measly broker," who had just managed to scrape some sort of a livelihood together by fixing contracts for the vessels owned by Endresens and selling coal to the Karstens' factories.

The Admiral himself, however, was evidently rich, a man of unbounded wealth, indeed, and enough to buy up Endresen's and Karsten's together. His Income Tax Return spoke plainly in plain figures; no farce about that! The fact was there, and could not be ignored; an abominable thing, but none the less true. There was nothing for it but to give him his title of Admiral, and with a serious face. Had it been some poor devil without means, they would have jeered him out of the place.

When the Admiral came striding up the main street, a stout, imposing figure, even Henry B. Karsten himself had to make way. He would wave one hand in salutation and say "Morning!" in English, using the same form of greeting to all, with the sole exception of Arne the Ferryman, who was always honoured with a shake of the hand.

But the Princess fluttered about the place like a dainty little butterfly. Old Missa looked after her as well as she could, and never lost sight of her if she could help it. But the Princess seemed to have wings! She would manage somehow or other to vanish in a moment: _presto!_ gone! And there was Missa left behind in despair.

She would soon come fluttering back again, however, smiling and irresistible as ever, and throw her arms round Missa's neck and beg to be forgiven.

The Admiral grumbled and swore he would "put the youngster in irons" if she did not keep to the house; but the youngster only laughed, perched herself on the Admiral's knee, and pulled his long white whiskers; and then he might fall to dreaming ... dreaming of distant lands, of moonlight nights beneath the palms and agaves, long and long ago.

He fussed and grumbled and stamped about the house, calling Missa a lumbering old mud-barge that couldn't keep a proper look-out; but the Princess fluttered on as before, entirely undismayed.

There was to be a grand festival in the town, a charity entertainment in aid of the Children's Home.

All the young people of the town were to assist. There was to be a theatrical performance, and an exhibition of dancing on the stage. Young Endresen and Karsten junior, of course, took a leading part in the arrangements; "for a charitable object," they could do no less. It was generally understood, however, that the real object of both young gentlemen was to see something of the Princess.

The two heirs-apparent waged a violent struggle for the Princess's favour. True, they had been duly instructed by their respective fathers, as these by their respective fathers before them, in the principle that "the house of Endresen" or "the house of Karsten" expected every son to do his duty--_i.e._ not to marry beneath his rank, and also, to "consolidate the standing of the firm," as it was conveniently put. As regards the question of rank, this was, in the present instance, a somewhat debatable one, but the question of consolidation was plain as could be wished. Here was a considerable fortune to be gained for the town, and thus for one of the two firms. It was certainly worth a struggle.

The Admiral had grumbled and stormed for a whole week before consenting to the Princess participating in the affair.

The Princess was to dance--a dance she had composed herself.

There was great excitement; the local theatre was crammed. The leading notabilities of the place had booked up all the stalls at more than twice the usual prices. Everyone who could get about at all was present. Even old Endresen, who generally affected to despise all such theatrical tomfoolery, had found a seat in the front row, and confided to his next-door neighbour that he had seen "Pepita" dance in Paris--had even thrown her a bouquet--"but I was very young, then, I must say," he added, with a smile.

Old folk in the town still told the story of how Endresen, as a young man, had led a gay life in Paris; a life so gay, and so expensive, that the Endresen senior of the period had promptly ordered him to come back home at once. "And he's turned out a real good man for all that," they would hasten to add.

The theatrical performance went off quite successfully, but without arousing any great amount of enthusiasm. There was applause, of course, and the principal actors had to appear before the curtain; the leading lady was duly praised for her interpretation. But it was the Princess all were waiting for.

At last the curtain rose. The scenery was ordinary enough: a "woodland scene," with the usual trees and a pale moon painted on the background. It was the standard setting, as used for classical tragedy, vaudeville and, in fact, almost anything.

Enter the Princess, daintily as if on wings. She wore a long white robe, that moved in graceful waves about her slender figure; diamonds shone and glittered in her hair. No one present had ever seen such stones, and young Endresen swore they were genuine. She wore a row of pearls too round her neck, and heavy gold rings about her bare ankles.

The spectators seemed literally to hold their breath with every nerve on the strain. The little figure up there was like a vision; her feet hardly touched the floor.

First, she glided softly across the stage, her white robe rising and falling like the gentle swell of the sea on a summer's day, then faster and faster. She whirled round, bent right down to the ground, and fell in a heap, only to spring up again in a moment and whirl round again at a furious pace.

The public was simply spell-bound. No one had ever seen, ever dreamed of such a sight.

Her great black eyes shone towards them, while that queer smile played about her mouth; she seemed to move in a world of her own. The dusty old scenery faded into nothingness; they saw but the girl herself, and sat staring, enchanted, hypnotised.

Gone! It was over. The curtain fell, and a silence as in church reigned for some seconds after; the spectators were getting their breath again, so to speak. Then something unusual happened. Old Endresen rose to his feet, clapped his hands and cried: "Encore, encore!"

Forgotten were his seventy years, his dignity, everything; he was young again, young and infatuated as he had been in Paris half a century before, when he joined in the cry of the thousands shouting, "_Vive Pepita, vive l'Espagne!_"

At last the general enthusiasm found vent in shouts of applause like the roar of a bursting dam. Handkerchiefs were waved; all rose to their feet.

Then once more she glided in across the stage.

Again an outburst of delighted applause.

One young man in particular seemed intent on outdoing all the rest--a fair-haired little fellow with a snub nose and pince-nez.

He sat in the stage box, and his shrill voice could be heard all over the theatre as he cried in unmistakable west coast dialect: "Bravo, bravissimo! Bravo, bravissimo!"

All looked at him and laughed. It was Doffen Eriksen, or Doffen, simply, as he was generally called. He came from Mandal originally, but had been several years in the town, first as head clerk at Eriksen's, and later with other local firms. His natural tendency to continual opposition, and lack of respect for his superiors, indeed for all recognised authority, prevented him from ever keeping a situation long.

He had recently gone over to the Socialist party, but at the very first meeting had abused his new comrades with emphasis: thieves, scoundrels and political mugwumps were among the expressions he used. The last in particular aroused their indignation, and after a few weeks he was excluded from the party. He was now a free-lance, with no regular employment.

Then it happened that the Admiral advertised for an assistant to help in the office. The Admiral used his office chiefly as a place where he could give way to bad language as often as he pleased; he felt he ought to keep himself in training, and arguing with Missa was too milk and watery for his taste.

The work in the office consisted for the most part of keeping the accounts of a couple of small vessels which he owned, together with the cutting out of coupons and cashier work. The Admiral himself never condescended to take up a pen; one had coolies to do that sort of thing, he would say.

His two skippers were rated and bullied every time they came home from a voyage, but they were so used to the treatment that they never noticed it.

It was worse, however, for the clerk, who had to endure the same thing day after day.

During the last year or so, the Admiral had had four or five different specimens in the office, but they always made haste to better themselves at the earliest opportunity, or simply "got the sack." They were all either "a pack of fools that couldn't think for themselves," or "a lot of impertinent donkeys that fancied they knew everything."

And when, after one of his usual outbursts, the unfortunate in question found it too much, and gave notice to leave, the Admiral's standard answer was "All right! then I'll have to get another idiot from somewhere."

Doffen applied for the post, referring to his previous experience, and stated that he had been "simply thrown out of various situations, not through any lack of ability, but because the principals were so many blockheads, who could not bear to hear a free and independent man express his frank opinion." He was at present disengaged, on the market, and perfectly willing to undertake any kind of work whatever, "even to playing croquet." The Admiral read the application through; it was the only one he had received in answer to his advertisement.

He grunted once or twice as he read. Missa laid down her needlework and prepared for a direct attack.

The opening seemed to take his fancy, but when he came to the part about playing croquet, he exclaimed:

"What the devil does the fellow mean? Playing croquet?"

"Who?"

"Oh, the new slave I'm getting for the office."

"Well, why not. He might play with Baby."

"Oh go to...." The Admiral got up and put the application into the fire.

Next day Doffen, as the sole applicant, was accorded the post. He sat down at the high desk, on one of those scaffold-like office stools with a big wooden screw in the middle. It was a matter of some difficulty to climb up, Doffen being small of stature, but with the aid of some acrobatic backwork, he soon learned to manage it.

Opposite his place was the Admiral's seat. He loved to sit there, in the very spot where his father had sat, year after year, as far back as he could remember.

It was not often the Admiral showed any evidence of gentler feeling, but it happened at times, when very old folk chanced to come into the office. They would stand still for a long time, looking round in wonder, and finally exclaim:

"Why, if it's not exactly as it used to be in your father's time!" and then the Admiral would jump down from his stool and slap the speaker on the shoulder.

During the first few days Doffen had not seen much of the Admiral, who had hardly looked in at the office at all. He wanted to get some idea of the "new slave's" manner and behaviour before he sat down.

On the day after the performance, the Admiral walked in and took his seat. Silence for a few minutes.

At last Doffen thought he ought to say something, and observed with the utmost coolness:

"Your daughter danced very nicely last night."

"H'm." The Admiral only grunted, and looked out of the window. Doffen imagined he had not heard.

"I was saying, Admiral, your daughter gave a deuced fine performance last night." Doffen raised his voice a little, thinking the Admiral must be hard of hearing.

"And what the devil's that got to do with you?" Doffen slammed down the lid of his desk with a bang.

"To do with me? Why, I paid for my ticket, anyway."

"I didn't ask her to dance for you, my lad, and devil take me but it shall be the last time."

"What's that to do with me?" retorted Doffen coldly.

The Admiral began to feel in his element; here at last was a man who could stand up to him.

"Can't you see she's like a young palm? Haven't you got a spice of feeling in you, man?"