【英文短篇小说】雨（4）

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After supper he saw Horn on the veranda¹ and, as though to have a casual word with him, went out.

‘She wants to know if you’ve seen the governor,’ the trader whispered.

‘Yes. He wouldn’t do anything. I’m awfully³ sorry, I can’t do anything more.’

‘I knew he wouldn’t. They daren’t go against the missionaries⁴.’

‘What are you talking about?’ said Davidson affably, coming out to join them. ‘I was just saying there was no chance of your getting over to Apia for at least another week,’ said the trader glibly⁶.

He left them, and the two men returned into the parlour. Mr Davidson devoted⁷ one hour after each meal to recreation. Presently a timid knock was heard at the door.

‘Come in,’ said Mrs Davidson, in her sharp voice.

The door was not opened. She got up and opened it. They saw Miss Thompson standing⁸ at the threshold. But the change in her appearance was extraordinary. This was no longer the flaunting⁹ hussy who had jeered¹⁰ at them in the road, but a broken, frightened woman. Her hair, as a rule so elaborately arranged, was tumbling untidily over her neck. She wore bedroom slippers¹¹ and a skirt and blouse. They were unfresh and bedraggled. She stood at the door with the tears streaming down her face and did not dare to enter.

‘What do you want?’ said Mrs Davidson harshly.

‘May I speak to Mr Davidson?’ she said in a choking voice.

The missionary¹² rose and went towards her.

‘Come right in, Miss Thompson,’ he said in cordial tones. ‘What can I do for you?’

She entered the room.

‘Say, I’m sorry for what I said to you the other day an’ for-for everythin’ else. I guess I was a bit lit up. I beg pardon.’

‘Oh, it was nothing. I guess my back’s broad enough to bear a few hard words.’

She stepped towards him with a movement that was horribly cringing¹³. ‘You’ve got me beat. I’m all in. You won’t make me go back to ‘Frisco?’

His genial¹⁴ manner vanished and his voice grew on a sudden hard and stern. ‘Why don’t you want to go back there?’

She cowered¹⁵ before him.

‘I guess my people live there. I don’t want them to see me like this. I’ll go anywhere else you say.’

‘Why don’t you want to go back to San Francisco?’

‘I’ve told you.’

He leaned forward, staring at her, and his great, shining eyes seemed to try to bore into her soul. He gave a sudden gasp¹⁶.

‘The penitentiary¹⁷.’

She screamed, and then she fell at his feet, clasping his legs.

‘Don’t send me back there. I swear to you before God I’ll be a good woman. I’ll give all this up.’

She burst into a torrent¹⁸ of confused supplication¹⁹ and the tears coursed down her painted cheeks. He leaned over her and, lifting her face, forced her to look at him.

‘Is that it, the penitentiary?’

‘I beat it before they could get me,’ she gasped²⁰. ‘If the bulls grab me it’s three years for me.’

He let go his hold of her and she fell in a heap on the floor, sobbing²¹ bitterly. Dr Macphail stood up.

‘This alters the whole thing,’ he said. ‘You can’t make her go back when you know this. Give her another chance. She wants to turn over a new leaf.’

‘I’m going to give her the finest chance she’s ever had. If she repents²³ let her accept her punishment.’

She misunderstood the words and looked up. There was a gleam of hope in her heavy eyes.

‘You’ll let me go?’

‘No. You shall sail for San Francisco on Tuesday.’

She gave a groan²⁴ of horror and then burst into low, hoarse²⁵ shrieks²⁶ which sounded hardly human, and she beat her head passionately²⁸ on the ground. Dr Macphail sprang to her and lifted her up.

‘Come on, you mustn’t do that. You’d better go to your room and lie down. I’ll get you something.’

He raised her to her feet and partly dragging her, partly carrying her, got her downstairs. He was furious with Mrs Davidson and with his wife because they made no effort to help. The half-caste was standing on the landing and with his assistance he managed to get her on the bed. She was moaning and crying. She was almost insensible. He gave her a hypodermic injection. He was hot and exhausted²⁹ when he went upstairs again.

‘I’ve got her to lie down.’

The two women and Davidson were in the same positions as when he had left them. They could not have moved or spoken since he went.

‘I was waiting for you,’ said Davidson, in a strange, distant voice. ‘I want you all to pray with me for the soul of our erring³¹ sister.’

He took the Bible off a shelf, and sat down at the table at which they had supped. It had not been cleared, and he pushed the tea-pot out of the way. In a powerful voice, resonant³² and deep, he read to them the chapter in which is narrated³³ the meeting of Jesus Christ with the woman taken in adultery.

Now kneel with me and let us pray for the soul of our dear sister, Sadie Thompson.’

He burst into a long, passionate²⁷ prayer in which he implored³⁴ God to have mercy on the sinful woman. Mrs Macphail and Mrs Davidson knelt with covered eyes. The doctor, taken by surprise, awkward and sheepish, knelt too. The missionary’s prayer had a savage³⁵ eloquence³⁶. He was extraordinarily³⁷ moved, and as he spoke³⁰ the tears ran down his cheeks. Outside, the pitiless rain fell, fell steadily³⁸, with a fierce malignity³⁹ that was all too human.

At last he stopped. He paused for a moment and said:

‘We will now repeat the Lord’s prayer.’

They said it and then, following him, they rose from their knees. Mrs Davidson’s face was pale and restful. She was comforted and at peace, but the Macphails felt suddenly bashful. They did not know which way to look. ‘I’ll just go down and see how she is now,’ said Dr Macphail.

When he knocked at her door it was opened for him by Horn. Miss Thompson was in a rocking-chair, sobbing quietly.

‘What are you doing there?’ exclaimed Macphail. ‘I told you to lie down.’

‘I can’t lie down. I want to see Mr Davidson.’

‘My poor child, what do you think is the good of it? You’ll never move him.’

‘He said he’d come if I sent for him.’

Macphail motioned to the trader.

‘Go and fetch him.’

He waited with her in silence while the trader went upstairs. Davidson came in.

‘Excuse me for asking you to come here,’ she said, looking at him sombrely. ‘I was expecting you to send for me. I knew the Lord would answer my prayer.’

They stared at one another for a moment and then she looked away. She kept her eyes averted⁴⁰ when she spoke.

‘I’ve been a bad woman. I want to repent²².’

‘Thank God! Thank God! He has heard our prayers.’

He turned to the two men.

‘Leave me alone with her. Tell Mrs Davidson that our prayers have been answered.’

They went out and closed the door behind them.

‘Gee whizz,’ said the trader.

That night Dr Macphail could not get to sleep till late, and when he heard the missionary come upstairs he looked at his watch. It was two o’clock. But even then he did not go to bed at once, for through the wooden partition that separated their rooms he heard him praying aloud, till he himself, exhausted, fell asleep.

When he saw him next morning he was surprised at his appearance. He was paler than ever, tired, but his eyes shone with inhuman⁴¹ fire. It looked as though he were filled with an overwhelming joy.

‘I want you to go down presently and see Sadie,’ he said. ‘I can’t hope that her body is better, but her soul-her soul is transformed.’

The doctor was feeling wan² and nervous.

‘You were with her very late last night,’ he said.

‘Yes, she couldn’t bear to have me leave her.’

‘You look as pleased as Punch,’ the doctor said irritably⁴².

Davidson’s eyes shone with ecstasy⁴³.

‘A great mercy has been vouchsafed⁴⁴ me. Last night I was privileged to bring a lost soul to the loving arms of Jesus.’

Miss Thompson was again in the rocking-chair. The bed had not been made. The room was in disorder⁴⁵. She had not troubled to dress herself, but wore a dirty dressing-gown, and her hair was tied in a sluttish knot. She had given her face a dab⁴⁶ with a wet towel, but it was all swollen⁴⁷ and creased⁴⁸ with crying. She looked a drab.

She raised her eyes dully when the doctor came in. She was cowed and broken.

‘Where’s Mr Davidson?’ she asked.

‘He’ll come presently if you want him,’ answered Macphail acidly. ‘I came here to see how you were.’

‘Oh, I guess I’m O.K. You needn’t worry about that.’

‘Have you had anything to eat?’

‘Horn brought me some coffee.’

She looked anxiously at the door.

D’you think he’ll come down soon? I feel as if it wasn’t so terrible when he’s with me.’

‘Are you still going on Tuesday?’

‘Yes, he says I’ve got to go. Please tell him to come right along. You can’t do me any good. He’s the only one as can help me now’

‘Very well,’ said Dr Macphail.

During the next three days the missionary spent almost all his time with Sadie Thompson. He joined the others only to have his meals. Dr Macphail noticed that he hardly ate.

‘He’s wearing himself out,’ said Mrs Davidson pitifully. ‘He’ll have a breakdown⁴⁹ if he doesn’t take care, but he won’t spare himself.’

She herself was white and pale. She told Mrs Macphail that she had no sleep. When the missionary came upstairs from Miss Thompson he prayed till he was exhausted, but even then he did not sleep for long. After an hour or two he got up and dressed himself, and went for a tramp along the bay. He had strange dreams.

‘This morning he told me that he’d been dreaming about the mountains of Nebraska,’ said Mrs Davidson.

‘That’s curious,’ said Dr Macphail.

He remembered seeing them from the windows of the train when he crossed America. They were like huge mole-hills, rounded and smooth, and they rose from the plain abruptly⁵⁰. Dr Macphail remembered how it struck him that they were like a woman’s breasts.

Davidson’s restlessness was intolerable even to himself But he was buoyed⁵¹ up by a wonderful exhilaration. He was tearing out by the roots the last vestiges⁵² of sin that lurked⁵³ in the hidden corners of that poor woman’s heart. He read with her and prayed with her.

‘It’s wonderful,’ he said to them one day at supper. ‘It’s a true rebirth. Her soul, which was black as night, is now pure and white like the new-fallen snow.

I am humble⁵⁴ and afraid. Her remorse⁵⁵ for all her sins is beautiful. I am not worthy⁵⁶ to touch the hem⁵ of her garment.’

‘Have you the heart to send her back to San Francisco?’ said the doctor. ‘Three years in an American prison. I should have thought you might have saved her from that.’

Ah, but don’t you see? It’s necessary. Do you think my heart doesn’t bleed for her? I love her as I love my wife and my sister. All the time that she is in prison I shall suffer all the pain that she suffers.’

‘Bunkum,’ cried the doctor impatiently.

‘You don’t understand because you’re blind. She’s sinned, and she must suffer. I know what she’ll endure. She’ll be starved and tortured and humiliated⁵⁷. I want her to accept the punishment of man as a sacrifice to God. I want her to accept it joyfully⁵⁸. She has an opportunity which is offered to very few of us. God is very good and very merciful.’

Davidson’s voice trembled with excitement. He could hardly articulate the words that tumbled passionately from his lips.

‘All day I pray with her and when I leave her I pray again, I pray with all my might and main, so that Jesus may grant her this great mercy. I want to put in her heart the passionate desire to be punished so that at the end, even if I offered to let her go, she would refuse. I want her to feel that the bitter punishment of prison is the thank-offering that she places at the feet of our Blessed Lord, who gave his life for her.’

The days passed slowly. The whole household, intent on the wretched, tortured woman downstairs, lived in a state of unnatural⁵⁹ excitement. She was like a victim that was being prepared for the savage rites⁶⁰ of a bloody⁶¹ idolatry. Her terror numbed⁶² her. She could not bear to let Davidson out of her sight; it was only when he was with her that she had courage, and she hung upon him with a slavish dependence⁶³. She cried a great deal, and she read the Bible, and prayed. Sometimes she was exhausted and apathetic⁶⁴. Then she did indeed look forward to her ordeal⁶⁵, for it seemed to offer an escape, direct and concrete, from the anguish⁶⁶ she was enduring. She could not bear much longer the vague terrors which now assailed⁶⁷ her. With her sins she had put aside all personal vanity, and she slopped about her room, unkempt and dishevelled, in her tawdry dressing-gown. She had not taken off her night-dress for four days, nor put on stockings. Her room was littered and untidy. Meanwhile the rain fell with a cruel persistence⁶⁸. You felt that the heavens must at last be empty of water, but still it poured down, straight and heavy, with a maddening iteration, on the iron roof Everything was damp and clammy. There was mildew⁶⁹ on the walls and on the boots that stood on the floor. Through the sleepless⁷⁰ nights the mosquitoes droned their angry chant.

‘If it would only stop raining for a single day it wouldn’t be so bad,’ said Dr Macphail.

They all looked forward to the Tuesday when the boat for San Francisco was to arrive from Sydney. The strain was intolerable. So far as Dr Macphail was concerned, his pity and his resentment⁷¹ were alike extinguished by his desire to be rid of the unfortunate woman. The inevitable⁷² must be accepted. He felt he would breathe more freely when the ship had sailed. Sadie Thompson was to be escorted on board by a clerk in the governor’s office. This person called on the Monday evening and told Miss Thompson to be prepared at eleven in the morning. Davidson was with her.

‘I’ll see that everything is ready. I mean to come on board with her myself.’ Miss Thompson did not speak.

When Dr Macphail blew out his candle and crawled cautiously under his mosquito curtains, he gave a sigh of relief.

Well, thank God that’s over. By this time tomorrow she’ll be gone.’

‘Mrs Davidson will be glad too. She says he’s wearing himself to a shadow,’ said Mrs Macphail. ‘She’s a different woman.’

‘Who?’

‘Sadie. I should never have thought it possible. It makes one humble.’

Dr Macphail did not answer, and presently he fell asleep. He was tired out, and he slept more soundly than usual.

He was awakened⁷³ in the morning by a hand placed on his arm, and, starting up, saw Horn by the side of his bed. The trader put his finger on his mouth to prevent any exclamation⁷⁴ from Dr Macphail and beckoned⁷⁵ to him to come. As a rule he wore shabby ducks, but now he was barefoot and wore only the lava-lava of the natives. He looked suddenly savage, and Dr Macphail, getting out of bed, saw that he was heavily tattooed⁷⁶. Horn made him a sign to come on to the veranda. Dr Macphail got out of bed and followed the trader out.

‘Don’t make a noise,’ he whispered. ‘You’re wanted. Put on a coat and some shoes. Quick.’

Dr Macphail’s first thought was that something had happened to Miss Thompson.

‘What is it? Shall I bring my instruments?’

‘Hurry, please, hurry.’

Dr Macphail crept back into the bedroom, put on a waterproof⁷⁷ over his pyjamas⁷⁸, and a pair of rubber-soled shoes. He rejoined the trader, and together they tiptoed down the stairs. The door leading out to the road was open and at it were standing half a dozen natives.

‘What is it?’ repeated the doctor.

‘Come along with me,’ said Horn.

He walked out and the doctor followed him. The natives came after them in a little bunch. They crossed the road and came on to the beach. The doctor saw a group of natives standing round some object at the water’s edge. They hurried along, a couple of dozen yards perhaps, and the natives opened out as the doctor came up. The trader pushed him forwards. Then he saw, lying half in the water and half out, a dreadful object, the body of Davidson. Dr Macphail bent⁷⁹ down-he was not a man to lose his head in an emergency-and turned the body over. The throat was cut from ear to ear, and in the right hand was still the razor with which the deed was done.

‘He’s quite cold,’ said the doctor. ‘He must have been dead some time.’

‘One of the boys saw him lying there on his way to work just now and came and told me. Do you think he did it himself?’

‘Yes. Someone ought to go for the police.’

Horn said something in the native tongue, and two youths started off ‘We must leave him here till they come,’ said the doctor.

‘They mustn’t take him into my house. I won’t have him in my house.’

‘You’ll do what the authorities say,’ replied the doctor sharply. ‘In point of fact I expect they’ll take him to the mortuary.’

They stood waiting where they were. The trader took a cigarette from a fold in his lava-lava and gave one to Dr Macphail. They smoked while they stared at the corpse⁸⁰. Dr Macphail could not understand.

‘Why do you think he did it?’ asked Horn.

The doctor shrugged⁸¹ his shoulders. In a little while native police came along, under the charge of a marine⁸², with a stretcher, and immediately afterwards a couple of naval⁸³ officers and a naval doctor. They managed everything in a businesslike manner.

‘What about the wife?’ said one of the officers.

‘Now that you’ve come I’ll go back to the house and get some things on. I’ll see that it’s broken to her. She’d better not see him till he’s been fixed⁸⁴ up a little.’

‘I guess that’s right,’ said the naval doctor.

When Dr Macphail went back he found his wife nearly dressed.

‘Mrs Davidson’s in a dreadful state about her husband,’ she said to him as soon as he appeared. ‘He hasn’t been to bed all night. She heard him leave Miss Thompson’s room at two, but he went out. If he’s been walking about since then he’ll be absolutely dead.’

Dr Macphail told her what had happened and asked her to break the news to Mrs Davidson.

‘But why did he do it?’ she asked, horror-stricken.

‘I don’t know’

‘But I can’t. I can’t.’

‘You must.’

She gave him a frightened look and went out. He heard her go into Mrs Davidson’s room. He waited a minute to gather himself together and then began to shave and wash. When he was dressed he sat down on the bed and waited for his wife. At last she came.

‘She wants to see him,’ she said.

‘They’ve taken him to the mortuary. We’d better go down with her. How did she take it?’

‘I think she’s stunned⁸⁵. She didn’t cry. But she’s trembling like a leaf.’

‘We’d better go at once.’

When they knocked at her door Mrs Davidson came out. She was very pale, but dry-eyed. To the doctor she seemed unnaturally⁸⁶ composed. No word was exchanged, and they set out in silence down the road. When they arrived at the mortuary Mrs Davidson spoke.

let me go in and see him alone.’

They stood aside. A native opened a door for her and closed it behind her. They sat down and waited. One or two white men came and talked to them in undertones. Dr Macphail told them again what he knew of the tragedy. At last the door was quietly opened and Mrs Davidson came out. Silence fell upon them.

‘I’m ready to go back now,’ she said.

Her voice was hard and steady. Dr Macphail could not understand the look in her eyes. Her pale face was very stern. They walked back slowly, never saying a word, and at last they came round the bend on the other side of which stood their house. Mrs Davidson gave a gasp, and for a moment they stopped still. An incredible sound assaulted their ears. The gramophone which had been silent for so long was playing, playing ragtime⁸⁷ loud and harsh.

‘What’s that?’ cried Mrs Macphail with horror.

Let’s go on,’ said Mrs Davidson.

They walked up the steps and entered the hall. Miss Thompson was standing at her door, chatting with a sailor. A sudden change had taken place in her. She was no longer the cowed drudge⁸⁸ of the last days. She was dressed in all her finery, in her white dress, with the high shiny boots over which her fat legs bulged⁸⁹ in their cotton stockings; her hair was elaborately arranged; and she wore that enormous hat covered with gaudy⁹⁰ flowers. Her face was painted, her eyebrows⁹¹ were boldly black, and her lips were scarlet⁹². She held herself erect⁹³. She was the flaunting queen that they had known at first. As they came in she broke into a loud, jeering⁹⁴ laugh; and then, when Mrs Davidson involuntarily stopped, she collected the spittle in her mouth and spat⁹⁵. Mrs Davidson cowered back, and two red spots rose suddenly to her cheeks. Then, covering her face with her hands, she broke away and ran quickly up the stairs. Dr Macphail was outraged⁹⁶. He pushed past the woman into her room.

‘What the devil are you doing?’ he cried. ‘Stop that damned machine.’ He went up to it and tore the record off. She turned on him.

‘Say, doc, you can stop that stuff with me. What the hell are you doin’ in my room?’

‘What do you mean?’ he cried. ‘What d’you mean?’

She gathered herself together. No one could describe the scorn of her expression or the contemptuous hatred⁹⁷ she put into her answer.

‘You men! You filthy⁹⁸, dirty pigs! You’re all the same, all of you. Pigs! Pigs!’ Dr Macphail gasped. He understood.

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