Marston studied him with some curiosity and on the whole felt repelled. The old fellow looked cunning and greedy, but not debased. One got a hint of cruelty and power, and his manner was very calm. In West Africa, Marston would perhaps have kicked him out, but pure white men are not numerous on the south and west coasts of the Caribbean and the distinction of color is relaxed. Besides, he reflected, he was engaged in trading with the natives.
"You lib for here for buy thing," the other remarked presently. "What thing you want?"
Marston mentioned some articles Wyndham had talked about, and the other nodded. "You go make me dash and you get them thing. Agent man fool man; him no savvy black man's way in bush."
"If the stuff comes along, we'll talk about the dash," Marston answered cautiously, although he did not like his visitor and wondered when he would go.
"When white cappy come back?" the old fellow asked.
"In the morning, I expect," said Marston with a yawn.
The other got up as if he were going, and turned sideways in order to pass between the swing-table and the locker. There was not much room, for one does not lean against a swing-table, which keeps its level by a counterbalance underneath when the vessel rolls. It looked as if the mulatto knew this, and Marston thought it strange. Next moment, however, he struck his naked foot against the fastenings in the deck and, stumbling, put his arm on the table. The table tilted and the medicine chest slipped off. It turned over as it fell and emptied bottles, packets, scales, and measures on the deck.
The mulatto looked at the disordered pile and made for the ladder. Marston did not stop him, although he was angry, and kneeling down began to pick up the articles. The bottles were strong and had not broken, and in a minute or two he replaced them and the other things in the box. Then he went up the ladder and looked out on deck. A lamp hung on the forestay as a beacon for the boats and one could see the sweep of planks and line of the rail. There was nobody about and nothing broke the silence. Beyond the feeble glimmer of the lamp it was very dark, but the night was calm and Marston knew the splash of a paddle would carry far.
He crossed the deck and looked over the rail. The water caught a faint reflection and he saw muddy foam and weed float past. The tide was rising and running up the lagoon. One could hardly wade to land and it was obviously impossible to do so without making a noise. Yet his visitor had vanished and he had not heard him go. Marston remembered stories about the Ghost Leopards he had heard in Africa, and laughed, but the laugh was forced.
He went back to the cabin and, shutting the hatch, examined the medicine chest. He did not know if he was surprised to find two articles had gone; one was a bottle of laudanum and the other a packet of new and powerful drugs. The book warned one to be careful about their use. Marston lighted a cigarette and pondered. He was not certain the bottle and packet were in the box when he got it down, although he thought they were; he had sometimes taken things out when he dosed the crew and he had used laudanum. Moreover, it looked impossible that the mulatto had picked them up. So far as Marston remembered, he did stoop down or stop. Then, supposing he had taken the stuff, it was hard to see why a man who was half a savage should steal laudanum and the other drug.