In Search of the Unknown Page 4

  IV

  I dined well--or, rather, I might have enjoyed my dinner if Mr.Halyard had been eliminated; and the feast consisted exclusively of ajoint of beef, the pretty nurse, and myself. She was exceedinglyattractive--with a disturbing fashion of lowering her head and raisingher dark eyes when spoken to.

  As for Halyard, he was unspeakable, bundled up in his snuffy shawls,and making uncouth noises over his gruel. But it is only just to saythat his table was worth sitting down to and his wine was sound as abell.

  "Yah!" he snapped, "I'm sick of this cursed soup--and I'll trouble youto fill my glass--"

  "It is dangerous for you to touch claret," said the pretty nurse.

  "I might as well die at dinner as anywhere," he observed.

  "Certainly," said I, cheerfully passing the decanter, but he did notappear overpleased with the attention.

  "I can't smoke, either," he snarled, hitching the shawls around untilhe looked like Richard the Third.

  However, he was good enough to shove a box of cigars at me, and I tookone and stood up, as the pretty nurse slipped past and vanished intothe little parlor beyond.

  We sat there for a while without speaking. He picked irritably at thebread-crumbs on the cloth, never glancing in my direction; and I,tired from my long foot-tour, lay back in my chair, silentlyappreciating one of the best cigars I ever smoked.

  "Well," he rasped out at length, "what do you think of my auks--and myveracity?"

  I told him that both were unimpeachable.

  "Didn't they call me a swindler down there at your museum?" hedemanded.

  I admitted that I had heard the term applied. Then I made a cleanbreast of the matter, telling him that it was I who had doubted; thatmy chief, Professor Farrago, had sent me against my will, and that Iwas ready and glad to admit that he, Mr. Halyard, was a benefactor ofthe human race.

  "Bosh!" he said. "What good does a confounded wobbly, bandy-toed birddo to the human race?"

  But he was pleased, nevertheless; and presently he asked me, notunamiably, to punish his claret again.

  "I'm done for," he said; "good things to eat and drink are no good tome. Some day I'll get mad enough to have a fit, and then--"

  He paused to yawn.

  "Then," he continued, "that little nurse of mine will drink up myclaret and go back to civilization, where people are polite."

  Somehow or other, in spite of the fact that Halyard was an old pig,what he said touched me. There was certainly not much left in life forhim--as he regarded life.

  "I'm going to leave her this house," he said, arranging his shawls."She doesn't know it. I'm going to leave her my money, too. Shedoesn't know that. Good Lord! What kind of a woman can she be to standmy bad temper for a few dollars a month!"

  "I think," said I, "that it's partly because she's poor, partlybecause she's sorry for you."

  He looked up with a ghastly smile.

  "You think she really is sorry?"

  Before I could answer he went on: "I'm no mawkish sentimentalist, andI won't allow anybody to be sorry for me--do you hear?"

  "Oh, I'm not sorry for you!" I said, hastily, and, for the first timesince I had seen him, he laughed heartily, without a sneer.

  We both seemed to feel better after that; I drank his wine and smokedhis cigars, and he appeared to take a certain grim pleasure inwatching me.

  "There's no fool like a young fool," he observed, presently.

  As I had no doubt he referred to me, I paid him no attention.

  After fidgeting with his shawls, he gave me an oblique scowl and askedme my age.

  "Twenty-four," I replied.

  "Sort of a tadpole, aren't you?" he said.

  As I took no offence, he repeated the remark.

  "Oh, come," said I, "there's no use in trying to irritate me. I seethrough you; a row acts like a cocktail on you--but you'll have tostick to gruel in my company."

  "I call that impudence!" he rasped out, wrathfully.

  "I don't care what you call it," I replied, undisturbed, "I am notgoing to be worried by you. Anyway," I ended, "it is my opinion thatyou could be very good company if you chose."

  The proposition appeared to take his breath away--at least, he saidnothing more; and I finished my cigar in peace and tossed the stumpinto a saucer.

  "Now," said I, "what price do you set upon your birds, Mr. Halyard?"

  "Ten thousand dollars," he snapped, with an evil smile.

  "You will receive a certified check when the birds are delivered," Isaid, quietly.

  "You don't mean to say you agree to that outrageous bargain--and Iwon't take a cent less, either--Good Lord!--haven't you any spiritleft?" he cried, half rising from his pile of shawls.

  His piteous eagerness for a dispute sent me into laughter impossibleto control, and he eyed me, mouth open, animosity rising visibly.

  Then he seized the wheels of his invalid chair and trundled away, toomad to speak; and I strolled out into the parlor, still laughing.

  The pretty nurse was there, sewing under a hanging lamp.

  "If I am not indiscreet--" I began.

  "Indiscretion is the better part of valor," said she, dropping herhead but raising her eyes.

  So I sat down with a frivolous smile peculiar to the appreciated.

  "Doubtless," said I, "you are hemming a 'kerchief."

  "Doubtless I am not," she said; "this is a night-cap for Mr.Halyard."

  A mental vision of Halyard in a night-cap, very mad, nearly set melaughing again.

  "Like the King of Yvetot, he wears his crown in bed," I said,flippantly.

  "The King of Yvetot might have made that remark," she observed,re-threading her needle.

  It is unpleasant to be reproved. How large and red and hot a man'sears feel.

  To cool them, I strolled out to the porch; and, after a while, thepretty nurse came out, too, and sat down in a chair not far away. Sheprobably regretted her lost opportunity to be flirted with.

  "I have so little company--it is a great relief to see somebody fromthe world," she said. "If you can be agreeable, I wish you would."

  The idea that she had come out to see me was so agreeable that Iremained speechless until she said: "Do tell me what people are doingin New York."

  So I seated myself on the steps and talked about the portion of theworld inhabited by me, while she sat sewing in the dull light thatstraggled out from the parlor windows.

  She had a certain coquetry of her own, using the usual methods with anindividuality that was certainly fetching. For instance, when she losther needle--and, another time, when we both, on hands and knees,hunted for her thimble.

  However, directions for these pastimes may be found in contemporaryclassics.

  I was as entertaining as I could be--perhaps not quite as entertainingas a young man usually thinks he is. However, we got on very welltogether until I asked her tenderly who the harbor-master might be,whom they all discussed so mysteriously.

  "I do not care to speak about it," she said, with a primness of whichI had not suspected her capable.

  Of course I could scarcely pursue the subject after that--and, indeed,I did not intend to--so I began to tell her how I fancied I had seen aman on the cliff that afternoon, and how the creature slid over thesheer rock like a snake.

  To my amazement, she asked me to kindly discontinue the account of myadventures, in an icy tone, which left no room for protest.

  "It was only a sea-otter," I tried to explain, thinking perhaps shedid not care for snake stories.

  But the explanation did not appear to interest her, and I wasmortified to observe that my impression upon her was anything butpleasant.

  "She doesn't seem to like me and my stories," thought I, "but she istoo young, perhaps, to appreciate them."

  So I forgave her--for she was even prettier than I had thought her atfirst--and I took my leave, saying that Mr. Halyard would doubtlessdirect me to my room.

  Halyard was in his library, cleaning a revolver, when I entered.
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  "Your room is next to mine," he said; "pleasant dreams, and kindlyrefrain from snoring."

  "May I venture an absurd hope that you will do the same!" I replied,politely.

  That maddened him, so I hastily withdrew.

  I had been asleep for at least two hours when a movement by my bedsideand a light in my eyes awakened me. I sat bolt upright in bed,blinking at Halyard, who, clad in a dressing-gown and wearing anight-cap, had wheeled himself into my room with one hand, while withthe other he solemnly waved a candle over my head.

  "I'm so cursed lonely," he said--"come, there's a good fellow--talk tome in your own original, impudent way."

  I objected strenuously, but he looked so worn and thin, so lonely andbad-tempered, so lovelessly grotesque, that I got out of bed andpassed a spongeful of cold water over my head.

  Then I returned to bed and propped the pillows up for a back-rest,ready to quarrel with him if it might bring some little pleasure intohis morbid existence.

  "No," he said, amiably, "I'm too worried to quarrel, but I'm muchobliged for your kindly offer. I want to tell you something."

  "What?" I asked, suspiciously.

  "I want to ask you if you ever saw a man with gills like a fish?"

  "Gills?" I repeated.

  "Yes, gills! Did you?"

  "No," I replied, angrily, "and neither did you."

  "No, I never did," he said, in a curiously placid voice, "but there'sa man with gills like a fish who lives in the ocean out there. Oh, youneedn't look that way--nobody ever thinks of doubting my word, and Itell you that there's a man--or a thing that looks like a man--as bigas you are, too--all slate-colored--with nasty red gills like afish!--and I've a witness to prove what I say!"

  "Who?" I asked, sarcastically.

  "The witness? My nurse."

  "Oh! She saw a slate-colored man with gills?"

  "Yes, she did. So did Francis Lee, superintendent of the Mica QuarryCompany at Port-of-Waves. So have a dozen men who work in the quarry.Oh, you needn't laugh, young man. It's an old story here, and anybodycan tell you about the harbor-master."

  "The harbor-master!" I exclaimed.

  "Yes, that slate-colored thing with gills, that looks like aman--and--by Heaven! _is_ a man--that's the harbor-master. Ask anyquarryman at Port-of-Waves what it is that comes purring around theirboats at the wharf and unties painters and changes the mooring ofevery cat-boat in the cove at night! Ask Francis Lee what it was hesaw running and leaping up and down the shoal at sunset last Friday!Ask anybody along the coast what sort of a thing moves about thecliffs like a man and slides over them into the sea like an otter--"

  "I saw it do that!" I burst out.

  "Oh, did you? Well, _what was it?_"

  Something kept me silent, although a dozen explanations flew to mylips.

  After a pause, Halyard said: "You saw the harbor-master, that's whatyou saw!"

  I looked at him without a word.

  "Don't mistake me," he said, pettishly; "I don't think that theharbor-master is a spirit or a sprite or a hobgoblin, or any sort ofdamned rot. Neither do I believe it to be an optical illusion."

  "What do you think it is?" I asked.

  "I think it's a man--I think it's a branch of the human race--that'swhat I think. Let me tell you something: the deepest spot in theAtlantic Ocean is a trifle over five miles deep--and I suppose youknow that this place lies only about a quarter of a mile off thisheadland. The British exploring vessel, _Gull_, Captain Marotte,discovered and sounded it, I believe. Anyway, it's there, and it's mybelief that the profound depths are inhabited by the remnants of thelast race of amphibious human beings!"

  This was childish; I did not bother to reply.

  "Believe it or not, as you will," he said, angrily; "one thing I know,and that is this: the harbor-master has taken to hanging around mycove, and he is attracted by my nurse! I won't have it! I'll blow hisfishy gills out of his head if I ever get a shot at him! I don't carewhether it's homicide or not--anyway, it's a new kind of murder and itattracts me!"

  I gazed at him incredulously, but he was working himself into apassion, and I did not choose to say what I thought.

  "Yes, this slate-colored thing with gills goes purring and grinningand spitting about after my nurse--when she walks, when she rows, whenshe sits on the beach! Gad! It drives me nearly frantic. I won'ttolerate it, I tell you!"

  "No," said I, "I wouldn't either." And I rolled over in bed convulsedwith laughter.

  The next moment I heard my door slam. I smothered my mirth and rose toclose the window, for the land-wind blew cold from the forest, and adrizzle was sweeping the carpet as far as my bed.

  That luminous glare which sometimes lingers after the stars go out,threw a trembling, nebulous radiance over sand and cove. I heard theseething currents under the breakers' softened thunder--louder than Iever heard it. Then, as I closed my window, lingering for a last lookat the crawling tide, I saw a man standing, ankle-deep, in the surf,all alone there in the night. But--was it a man? For the figuresuddenly began running over the beach on all fours like a beetle,waving its limbs like feelers. Before I could throw open the windowagain it darted into the surf, and, when I leaned out into thechilling drizzle, I saw nothing save the flat ebb crawling on thecoast--I heard nothing save the purring of bubbles on seething sands.