"This is my mother," said Willatopy proudly. Madame held out her hands, and the native woman came to her, shyly at first, and then eagerly as she drew courage from the sweet irresistible smile of welcome on the most beautiful face in the world. She took both Madame's hands and knelt at her feet.
"No," said Madame Gilbert. "Here," and lifting the poor shy, humble creature in her strong arms, she took her to the wet trench coat and kissed her on both cheeks.
And that is how Madame Gilbert came to Tops Island. One may well ask what Sir John Toppys, Baronet of Wigan, the entirely neglected paymaster of Madame's most expensive expedition, would have thought of that pretty little scene.
CHAPTER IX WILLATOPY: SPORTSMAN
Between the arrival of Madame Gilbert at Tops Island and the coming of the Hedge Lawyer there interposed three or four brief weeks of happiness. Not for years had Madame been so purely and childishly happy. She had sailed away from that man-destroying white civilisation which during four desperate years of savagery had torn her own world into rags; she had descended upon an island where the joy of life reigned as King, and death had no terrors. From a Europe worn out by passion, a Europe grown old and weary and corrupt, she had flown back, as it were, to the sparkling morning of free, joyous human life. And with quick sympathy she revelled in her new experiences.
The Humming Top was moored in shelter hard by the shore of Tops Island where the tide rose and fell ten feet, and the Pacific swell rolled continuously. And with it the yacht rolled, too, continuously in spite of her sturdy bilge keels. She was long and narrow and of light draught, she was built for speed in the open sea, not for threading the labyrinths of coral reefs or for lying up indefinitely in the lee of mangrove swamps. It took all the superb skill of a Willatopy to navigate her in safety through the channels of the Coral Sea, but not even the stomach of Willatopy, sound though it was by practice and inheritance, would have relished the perpetual roll of the Humming Top at anchor. Madame cleared out of her most comfortable sea home, and took with her Marie, who had all the Frenchwoman's hatred of uneasy salt water. Sir John Toppys, at a hint from Madame months before, had purchased three large tents of the Thames pattern, oblong in shape, and with a wide air space between walls and roof. These tents were borne ashore and pitched in an agreeable clearing about a quarter of a mile from Willatopy's home. Madame desired privacy for herself, and had no wish to intrude upon that of the Family of Toppys. One tent was equipped for the use of Madame and Marie, a second contained the gear of a cook and steward, and the third was set aside for any of the officers or men who might be assigned to Madame as her shore escort. There were a score or more of native families on the island, and both Ching and Ewing set their faces against leaving Madame Gilbert unguarded in their midst. Ching hinted that head hunting, though a dying industry in the Straits, might be capable of revival under severe provocation. And Ewing, as he contemplated Madame's gorgeous copper mane shining in coils upon her bonny head, hinted that the provocation to secure so unique a specimen might prove irresistible. Madame laughed and flicked at them both the muzzle of her Webley automatic.
"I am a perfect shot," quoth she, "and if you will be reassured, I will promise to keep my gun ever beside my virtuous couch." But in spite of Madame's skill in shooting—of which she gave an impressive demonstration on the boat deck—they insisted upon the necessity for an escort I suspect that neither Ching nor Ewing could endure a long separation from their Madame Gilbert, and that both senior and junior officers welcomed a few days of respite from the ever restless Humming Top. There was never any lack of volunteers for the duty of furnishing the escort and of beguiling the ample leisure of the capacious-hearted Marie Lambert.
"Profiteering has solid advantages," observed Madame to me, "for those who draw upon its unfathomable resources of ill-gotten wealth. That dear old John Toppys of Wigan said nothing to me at the time, but it appeared that he dredged London and Southampton for the latest and most luxurious of camp equipment. Our tents had floor boards covered with thick rubber, and strewn with extravagantly costly rugs. There were beds with the springiest of mattresses, adjustable rest chairs, dressing tables, and the dinkiest of toilet apparatus. Unbeknownst, as Ching expressed it—Sir John had laid down for my use a camp toilet service in solid silver—and with silver at famine prices!—and had stuck in a card requesting me to honour it with my gracious acceptance, for keeps. You see, I had told him that I was a forlorn widow! He had not overlooked equipment for my maid. Every conceivable device for cooking and serving food in camp had been thought of and provided, including Primus stoves, and the men's tent—though less like a bower of Venus than my own—was good enough for anyone below the exalted standing of a goddess. Even Ching and Ewing, who had managed to decide in their wise heads that I was not Sir John Toppys' wayward mistress, opened their eyes at his lavish provision for my comfort. When he saw his own tent, Alexander became, if possible, more convinced a business man than ever. 'Wealth is power,' said he gravely, 'even in a desert island. I have done no so badly with the dopes and the legitimate trade, but I must do a power of robbery yet before I can count dollars with Sir John Toppys.' We camped out on Tops Island, but there was not much of roughing it about Sir John's notions of camp life."