Dead Man's Land Part 4

"Bother! I thought as soon as we got ash.o.r.e it was all going to be interesting and beautiful, and that we should be having glorious adventures. I don't know how we are going to get through it."

"Get through what?"

"Those three days before we can start up the country."

"Oh, there they are," said Dean sharply.

"Who?"

"Our two keepers."

"Let's go and talk to them, then. Poor old Bacon. If it's going to be like this Bob will be frizzled."

"Well, don't walk so fast. I say, it must be hot."

"Why?"

"Because I feel as if I had got too many clothes on."

"Ah, it will be hotter than this; but it's the only thing that makes me think we are in a foreign country. Here, who's this? Why, it's that sailor again."

"Yes," said Dean. "What does he want? He was following us about all day yesterday when we were trying to look at the town."

"What does he want? Coppers, of course. He's a beggar."

"Well, he doesn't look like one. No, that isn't it. He's got a boat somewhere, and wants to take us up the river for a row. Shall we go?"

"No; it's too hot. Think we could buy an umbrella somewhere?"

"What for? It looks as if it had not rained here for a twelvemonth."

"Keep the sun off."

"Oh, I see. Come along, then, till we get to those stores, and we can buy one there, I daresay; but I shan't walk with you if you put it up.

Bother you and your umbrella! Are you afraid you'll melt?"

"I am melting."

As Dean spoke very surlily, "that sailor," as Mark called him, a little stumpy fellow who looked as though he should have been plump and rosy, but who was ghastly pale instead, sauntered up slowly, looking very hard at Mark, and opened his lips as if to say something, but closed them again as if with an effort.

He was dressed in a sailor's canvas frock and loose trousers, both of which articles of attire were old and shabby but scrupulously clean, while his hat, a very old straw, showed an ugly rent which its owner had apparently tried to hide by means of the silken band just above its brim. But the band had slipped upwards so that a good-sized patch of crisp, curly, black hair had escaped and thrust its way out into the sun.

As the man came abreast, he opened his lips and closed them twice before pa.s.sing on, and in the sultry stillness of the sleepy place they heard him give a faint sigh.

"Doesn't look much like a beggar," said Dean. "He's had a fever, or something."

"Well, I shouldn't like to have a fever here," said Mark. "I don't mean to be ill. If I am it's because I have come to a place where there's nothing to do and nothing to see. Oh, I am disappointed! Here he comes back again. He must be a beggar, and he's ashamed to ask us to give him something. No, it can't be that. For foreign beggars are not ashamed to beg. I shall ask him if he has been ill."

"No, don't. He mightn't like it," said Dean.

"Then he will have to dislike it."

"Don't talk so loud," whispered Dean, for the sailor pa.s.sed close to them again, looking from one to the other wistfully.

"Poor beggar!" said Mark, as the man pa.s.sed on. "I am sure he is a beggar, and he's too stupid and drowsy to beg."

"'Tisn't that," said Dean. "He wants a job."

"Well, that means he wants money. _Hola_!"

The man stopped and looked round eagerly, and the boys could see that his lips were quivering as he made a movement with his hand as if in salute.

"_Dinheiro_," continued Mark, slapping his pocket.

"Ah, gentlemen, then you are English?"

"Rather!" said Mark. "Are you hard up in this sleepy place?"

"Yes, sir--no, sir," cried the man hastily.

"What is it, then? Do you want a job?" And Mark drew out a s.h.i.+lling.

"Yes, sir; badly, sir."

"Well, have you got a boat?"

"No, sir; I wish I had. No, sir; thank you, sir. I did not mean that;"

and the man thrust his hands deeply into his pockets, while Mark thrust his out of sight as well, s.h.i.+lling and all, and somehow his cheeks felt a little hotter than before, as he felt that he had made a mistake.

"I thought you wanted to take us for a row."

"Oh no, sir."

"Then what are you doing here in this out-of-the-way place?"

"Ask him where his s.h.i.+p is," whispered Dean.

"Yes, that's it. Do you belong to some s.h.i.+p in the harbour?"

"No, sir. She sailed away three months ago. I was too bad to go away with her. Fever, gentlemen."

"Oh, that's bad," said Mark. "Sick in a strange place."

"Oh, I haven't got anything to grumble at, sir. The consul's been very good to me; but I am as weak as a rat, sir, and--and--"

The poor fellow's voice during the last few words had trailed off, and ended in silence, while the two boys looked at him sympathetically and felt very uncomfortable.

"I shall be better directly, gentlemen," he said at last, with quite a gasp; and then with an effort he went on, "I beg pardon, but I heard of you. Someone told me about a party of English gentlemen going up the country towards the mountains where a fellow could shake off the fever.

I can't get on, gentlemen--so weak. Better directly."