The Favorite Short Stories of W. Somerset Maugham (73 page)

The Resident gave the others a glance.

“All right. I’ll just finish this article and join you. Cut for me and deal. I shall only be five minutes.”

Neil went up to the three men.

“Oh, I say, Waring, thanks awfully, but I can’t move over to you after all. The Munros have asked me to stay on with them for good.”

A broad smile broke on Waring’s face.

“Fancy that.”

“It’s awfully nice of them, isn’t it? They made rather a point of it. I couldn’t very well refuse.”

“What did I tell you?” said Bishop.

“I don’t blame the boy,” said Waring.

There was something in their manner that Neil did not like. They seemed to be amused. He flushed.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he cried.

“Oh, come off it,” said Bishop. “We know our Darya. You’re not the first good-looking young fellow she’s had a romp with, and you won’t be the last.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth before Neil’s clenched fist shot out like a flash. He hit Bishop on the face and he fell heavily to the floor. Jonson sprang at Neil and seized him round the middle, for he was beside himself.

“Let me go,” he shouted. “If he doesn’t withdraw that I’ll kill him.”

The Resident, startled by the commotion, looked up and rose to his feet. He walked heavily towards them.

“What’s this? What’s this? What the hell are you boys playing at?”

They were taken aback. They had forgotten him. He was their master. Jonson let go of Neil and Bishop picked himself up. The Resident, a frown on his face, spoke to Neil sharply.

“What’s the meaning of this? Did you hit Bishop?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

“He made a foul suggestion reflecting on a woman’s honour,” said Neil, very haughtily, and still white with rage.

The Resident’s eyes twinkled, but he kept a grave face.

“What woman?”

“I refuse to answer,” said Neil, throwing back his head and drawing himself up to his full imposing height.

It would have been more effective if the Resident hadn’t been a good two inches taller, and very much stouter.

“Don’t be a damned young fool.”

“Darya Munro,” said Jonson.

“What did you say, Bishop?”

“I forget the exact words I used. I said she’d hopped into bed with a good many young chaps here, and I supposed she hadn’t missed the chance of doing the same with MacAdam.”

“It was a most offensive suggestion. Will you be so good as to apologize and shake hands. Both of you.”

“I’ve had a hell of a biff, sir. My eye’s going to look like the devil. I’m damned if I apologize for telling the truth.”

“You’re old enough to know that the fact that your statement is true only makes it more offensive, and as far as your eye is concerned I’m told that a raw beef-steak is very efficacious in these circumstances. Though I put my desire that you should apologize in the form of a request out of politeness, it is in point of fact an order.”

There was a moment’s silence. The Resident looked bland.

“I apologize for what I said, sir,” Bishop said sulkily.

“Now then, MacAdam.”

“I’m sorry I hit him, sir. I apologize, too.”

“Shake hands.”

The two young men solemnly did so.

“I shouldn’t like this to go any further. It wouldn’t be nice for Munro, whom I think we all like. Can I count on you all holding your tongues?”

They nodded.

“Now be off with you. You stay, MacAdam, I want to have a few words with you.”

When the two of them were left alone, the Resident sat down and lit himself a cheroot. He offered one to Neil, but he only smoked cigarettes.

“You’re a very violent young man,” said the Resident, with a smile. “I don’t like my officers to make scenes in a public place like this.”

“Mrs Munro is a great friend of mine. She’s been kindness itself to me. I won’t hear a word said against her.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have your job cut out for you if you stay here much longer.”

Neil was silent for a moment. He stood, tall and slim, before the Resident, and his grave young face was guileless. He flung back his head defiantly. His emotion made him speak in broader Scots even than usual.

“I’ve lived with the Munros for four months, and I give you my word of honour that so far as I am concerned there is not an iota of truth in what that beast said. Mrs Munro has never treated me with anything that you could call undue familiarity. She’s never by word or deed given me the smallest hint that she had an improper idea in her head. She’s been like a mother to me or an elder sister.”

The Resident watched him with ironical eyes.

“I’m very glad to hear it. That’s the best thing I’ve heard about her for a long time.”

“You believe me, sir, don’t you?”

“Of course. Perhaps you’ve reformed her.” He called out, “Boy. Bring me a gin pahit.” And then to Neil. “That’ll do. You can go now if you want to. But no more fighting, mind you, or you’ll get the order of the boot.”

When Neil walked back to the Munros’ bungalow the rain had stopped and the velvet sky was bright with stars. In the garden the fire-flies were flitting here and there. From the earth rose a scented warmth and you felt that if you stopped you would hear the growth of that luxuriant vegetation. A white flower of the night gave forth an overwhelming perfume. In the veranda Munro was typing some notes, and Darya, lying at full length on a long chair, was reading. The lamp behind her lit her smoky hair so that it shone like an aureole. She looked up at Neil and, putting down her book, smiled. Her smile was very friendly.

“Where have you been, Neil?”

“At the club.”

“Anybody there?”

The scene was so cosy and domestic, Darya’s manner so peaceful and quietly assured, that it was impossible not to be touched. The two of them there, each occupied with his own concerns, seemed so united, their intimacy so natural, that no one could have conceived that they were not perfectly happy in one another. Neil did not believe a single word of what Bishop had said and the

Resident had hinted. It was incredible. After all, he knew that what they had suspected of
him
was untrue, so what reason was there to think that the rest was any truer? They had dirty minds, all those people; because they were a lot of swine they thought everyone else as bad as they were. His knuckle hurt him a little. He was glad he had hit Bishop. He wished he knew who had started that filthy story. He’d wring his neck.

But now Munro fixed a date for the expedition that they had so much discussed, and in his careful way began to make preparations so that at the last moment nothing should be forgotten. The plan was to go as far up the river as possible and then make their way through the jungle and hunt for specimens on the little-known Mount Hitam. They expected to be away two months. As the day on which they were to start grew nearer Munro’s spirits rose, and though he did not say very much, though he remained quiet and self-controlled, you could tell by the light in his eyes and the jauntiness of his step how much he looked forward to it. One morning, at the museum, he was almost sprightly.

“I’ve got some good news for you,” he said suddenly to Neil, after they had been looking at some experiments they were making. “Darya’s coming with us.”

“Is she? That’s grand.”

Neil was delighted. That made it perfect.

“It’s the first time I’ve ever been able to induce her to accompany me. I told her she’d enjoy it, but she would never listen to me. Queer cattle, women, I’d given it up and never thought of asking her to come this time, and suddenly, last night, out of a blue sky she said she’d like to.”

“I’m awfully glad,” said Neil.

“I didn’t much like the idea of leaving her by herself so long; now we can stay just as long as we want to.”

They started early one morning in four prahus, manned by Malays, and besides themselves the party consisted of their servants and four Dyak hunters. The three of them lay on cushions side by side, under an awning; in the other boats were the Chinese servants and the Dyaks. They carried bags of rice for the whole party, provisions for themselves, clothes, books, and all that was necessary for their work. It was heavenly to leave civilization behind them and they were all excited. They talked. They smoked. They read. The motion of the river was exquisitely soothing. They lunched on a grassy bank. Dusk fell and they moored for the night. They slept at a long house and their Dyak hosts celebrated their visit with arrak, eloquence, and a fantastic dance. Next day the river, narrowing, gave them more definitely the feeling that they were adventuring into the unknown, and the exotic vegetation that crowded the banks to the water’s edge, like an excited mob pushed from behind by a multitude, caused Neil a breathless ravishment. O wonder and delight! On the third day, because the water was shallower and the stream more rapid, they changed into lighter boats, and soon it grew so strong that the boatmen could paddle no longer, and they poled against the current with powerful and magnificent gestures. Now and then they came to rapids and had to disembark, unload, and haul the boats through a rock-strewn passage. After five days they reached a point beyond which they could go no further. There was a government bungalow there, and they settled in for a couple of nights while Munro made arrangements for their excursion into the interior. He wanted bearers for their baggage, and men to build a house for them when they reached Mount Hitam. It was necessary for Munro to see the headman of a village in the vicinity, and thinking it would save time if he went himself rather than let the headman come to him, the day after they arrived he set out at dawn with a guide and a couple of Dyaks. He expected to be back in a few hours. When he had seen him off Neil thought he would have a bathe. There was a pool a little way from the bungalow, and the water was so clear that you saw every grain of the sandy bottom. The river was so narrow there that the trees over-arched it. It was a lovely spot. It reminded Neil of the pools in Scotch streams he had bathed in as a boy, and yet it was strangely different. It had an air of romance, a feeling of virgin nature, that filled him with sensations that he found hard to analyse. He tried, of course, but older heads than his have found it difficult to anatomize happiness. A kingfisher was sitting on an overhanging branch and its vivid blue was reflected as bluely in the crystal stream. It flew away with a flashing glitter of jewelled wings when Neil, slipping off his sarong and baju, scrambled down into the water. It was fresh without being cold. He splashed and tumbled about. He enjoyed the movement of his strong limbs. He floated and looked at the blue sky peeping through the leaves and the sun that here and there gilded the water. Suddenly he heard a voice.

“How white your body is, Neil.”

With a gasp he let himself sink and turning round saw Darya standing on the bank.

“I say, I haven’t got any clothes on.”

“So I saw. It’s much nicer bathing without. Wait a minute, I’ll come in, it looks lovely.”

She also was wearing a sarong and a baju. He turned away his head quickly, for he saw that she was taking them off. He heard her splash into the water. He gave two or three strokes in order that she should have room to swim about at a good distance from him, but she swam up to him.

“Isn’t the feel of the water on one’s body lovely?” she said.

She laughed and opening her hand splashed water in his face. He was so embarrassed he did not know which way to look. In that limpid water it was impossible not to see that she was stark naked. It was not so bad now, but he could not help thinking how difficult it would be to get out. She seemed to be having a grand time.

“I don’t care if I do get my hair wet,” she said.

She turned over on her back and with strong strokes swam round the pool. When she wanted to get out, he thought, the best thing would be if he turned his back and when she was dressed she could go and he would get out later. She seemed quite unconscious of the awkwardness of the situation. He was vexed with her. It really was rather tactless to behave like that. She kept on talking to him just as if they were on dry land and properly dressed. She even called his attention to herself.

“Does my hair look awful? It’s so fine it gets like rat tails when it’s wet. Hold me under the shoulders a moment while I try to screw it up.”

“Oh, it’s all right,” he said. “You’d better leave it now.”

“I’m getting frightfully hungry,” she said presently. “What about breakfast?”

“If you’ll get out first and put on your things, I’ll follow you in a minute.”

“All right.”

She swam the two strokes needed to bring her to the side, and he modestly looked away so that he should not see her get out nude from the water.

“I can’t get up,” she cried.

“You’ll have to help me.”

It had been easy enough to get in, but the bank overhung the water and one had to lift oneself up by the branch of a tree.

“I can’t. I haven’t got a stitch of clothing on.”

“I know that. Don’t be so Scotch. Get up on the bank and give me a hand.”