“It is not even sprained,” she said truthfully. “There—see how I can move it. It didn’t amount to anything, only I am such a coward.”
“You are sure now?” said Martin. She was only too glad to say that she was.
An hour later, a waveless sea was gurgling musically as the launch cut through it, and a tropical moon was scattering a pathway of brilliants into which the little craft seemed desirous of plunging herself, but which she could never quite attain. The Filipino steersman shifted from foot to foot, a dim moving shape at his shadowed post. Mysterious clanks and groans issued at intervals from the engine-room below. There was no longer a wavering dark line across the night sky, though the light on Cuyo was still visible. And in the exquisite peace a woman, reared to luxury and social exclusiveness, lay in her deck chair and listened to the talk of men who had known most of the shadows of life and some of its pits of evil, took their homage, too, and found it tasty.
Each had drawn up one of the three-legged, rattan stools which are so common in the Philippines and they were seated one on each side of her. Their talk wandered over many themes, but was always terse and vivid. They agreed in damning the Government. All civilian non-employees do that continually. They spoke of affairs on the island, and discussed the administration of local justice with the simplicity of men who do not quibble over political documents, but who have a strong conviction that the powerful must rule the weak. One of the Japanese divers was making trouble with the launch crew, preaching the inferiority of the white race and the drubbing one part of it was destined to receive. “I guess he’s right on the Russians,” said Collingwood. “I believe the Japs will thrash them into the middle of kingdom come; but if he goes to putting on any airs around me, I’ll kick him into the China Sea.”
“No need,” said Maclaughlin cheerily, “I did it for him last week. It did him a world of good.”
“How are findings?”
“None too good. We’ll not make our fortunes this year, but we’ll make our keep, and a little to spare.” The smile on the keen face told Charlotte that the speaker was not dissatisfied.
“How’s Kingsnorth?”
“Just himself.”
“Poor devil,” said Martin feelingly. Maclaughlin broke into a hearty laugh. “Hear the married man,” he cried, “an’ if you could ha’ heard him six months gone, Mrs. Collingwood!”