“More better she die,” he said; and then, with a dramatic gesture, he pointed to the shore, and asked me in his broken English whether she could have endured a year of it with that man.
“More better she die,” he repeated, and regarded me with a deep solemnity.
There was not much dinner eaten that day, though one must needs be cooked and served. I looked fearfully into the trade-room, and saw Frenchy’s body stretched out on the counter, a towel drawn over his swarthy face. Lum and I closed the galley doors, and smoked countless cigarettes together in the semi-darkness, finding consolation in one another’s company. The tragedy hung heavy upon us both; and the knowledge that one of its victims lay but a yard away seemed to bring death close to us all; so that we trembled for ourselves and sat near together in a sort of horror. Towards three o’clock some one pounded violently at the door, and on Lum’s unlocking it, we found ourselves confronted by Johnny the boatswain.
He told us bluntly he wanted the girl’s body, to bury it ashore.
“Captain’s orders,” he said, with a nasty look at the Chinaman.
“You make two hole?” queried Lum—“two grave?”
“One, that’s all,” said Johnny, with a grin. “We bury them together, you China fool.”
“No, that you will not!” cried Lum, with a sudden flame in his almond eyes. “You can bury Frenchy, but me and Bence make hole for the girl.”
“No, you won’t,” cried Johnny, making a movement to force his way in; but Lum caught up the cleaver, and stood there, looking so incensed and defiant that the Kanaka was glad to move away. He went off, swearing all kinds of things, and we saw him afterwards complaining angrily to Old Bee.
But the Chinaman was in a fighting humour. It would have taken more than mere words to cow his spirit. He called me out on deck, and there, between us, we got the dinghy off the beds and launched her alongside the ship—without asking by your leave or anything—and pulled her round to the gangway ladder. Then, as I held her fast with the boat-hook, Lum went back, and reappeared a minute later with Elsie’s corpse in his arms. Settling it carefully in the bottom of the boat, her comely head resting on a bundle tied in yellow silk, the Chinaman took one of the oars and bade me pull with the other. Even as I did so I noticed the meat-cleaver bulging out his jumper and a six-shooter in the hind pocket of his jeans.