Symonds and the Polyanthus

Symonds and the Polyanthus

“Talking of warnings of that sort,” said the Naval Lieutenant, “it’s odd how the very people who send them sometimes get left. Have you fellows ever heard the story of Symonds—Sierra Leone Symonds—and the Polyanthus?”

“Your manner, my dear Cunningham, sufficiently indicates[1] that we shall hear it now, at any rate.”

“Not unless you shut up,” returned the Naval Lieutenant equably, when the laugh subsided, “and not if Boyce asks me, as I see he means to do, whether Symonds was a botanist, and the Polyanthus a rare find among West Coast flora.”

“All right, he shan’t. Drive on, Cunningham, and don’t pay any attention to ill-bred remarks. We’re all dying to hear your tale.”

“Well,” said the Naval Lieutenant, lighting a fresh cigar, “it isn’t much of a yarn, but it may perhaps interest you as I can give you part of it first-hand. And it just shows how inconsistent some folks are. Symonds, you know, was a hut-tax collector, a rum sort of chap; very smart man, and, I believe, popular with the natives—though I can’t myself imagine how a collector can[2] be that. There’s no doubt that he was popular with Europeans, anyhow. The funny thing about him was that though he was so smart, he was so awfully casual—the kind of man who would get you out of a tight place in no time, and enjoy doing it, but would probably be too lazy to trouble about his own skin—”

“We used to call him Casual Symonds at school,” put in a voice from the corner.

“Oh! you were at school with him, were you? Well, wasn’t he what I have said?”

“Exactly, and very popular.”[3]

“I had never met Symonds,” resumed the narrator, “but having already been stationed on the West Coast for more than a year I used now and then to hear about him. I was in the Polyanthus then—third class cruiser, about 1800 tons, and Wilberforce was the skipper, the Wilberforce who has just got the Gigantic. We used to call him Didymus because there’s another Wilberforce in the service, just of his standing then—commander—rather like him to look at, but absolutely no relation. Someone started a tale that they were twins, and as a matter of face there was no love lost between them, so the great thing was to get a new-comer on to talk to the skipper about his ‘brother’. Old Didymus—he’s not really old, you know—is a very decent chap, rather slow perhaps, but a good man take him altogether, or he wouldn’t have got the Gigantic, I suppose. But there, he owes that to Symonds in a way, as you’ll see. The Lalage was the flagship then—I’m speaking of three years ago—and Murchison the admiral.

“No, this is not a hut-tax story, though the papers thought it was. You don’t always get the right end of the stick here in London. But I daresay the hut-taxes had a lot to do with the affair, and made a sort of groundwork of discontent. Oh yes, it was in the papers; you must have seen it—‘British trading-station in danger. Prompt action of Commander Wilberforce.’ One of the halfpenny papers that my people sent me out afterwards had lit upon the same idea that was going to occur to Boyce just now, and sported a heading about the Polyanthus flourishing in the swamps—not that there were any where we were, but it couldn’t know that. Symonds’s part was not in, I fancy; that wasn’t Wilberforce’s fault, for he was tremendously grateful to Symonds, and that was why he was so cut up when—well, I’ll come to that.

“We used to be in Freetown harbour a good bit; at times there would be as many as five or six of us there, and Freetown has its points; it’s jolly pretty from a distance, anyhow. I used to like seeing the little nigger boys strolling about with English grammars in their hands. But just at the time I’m going to tell you about Murchison sent us further North, to the mouth of the Tanene—if you’re any the wiser. This river is almost the extreme Northern boundary of the protectorate, and has a good wide mouth, being in fact navigable for quite a long way. Not very far up stands a smallish trading station, Seboah by name, which for its size has a fair number of whites in it, nearly all Englishmen; the[4] trade in mostly in rubber and kola nuts. Now Murchison thought that there was something brewing at Seboah; I can’t say how much he really knew and how much he merely guessed, though my private opinion is that he knew very little. However, he thought it would be as well for us to be lying off in case of need, so off we went, and hung about the mouth of the Tanene for more than a fortnight. Everything was serene, and the skipper got rather sick of it, and said he should put back, the admiral not having given very definite orders. If we had I shouldn’t be boring you with this story, and there would have been something different in the papers, and probably Didymus would not be bossing it on the quarter-deck of the Gigantic up the Straits, and wondering how long it will be before he gets his flag.

“Well, as I was saying, he made up his mind to go back to Sierra Leone, but something—I forget what—made him hang on for a night longer, and next morning we were all jolly glad he had done so. For about ten o’clock off comes a boat from the shore with a native, a funny little shrivelled chap, who demanded the captain. By his loose get-up, and the little tight pigtails on either side of his face, we saw that he was not of those parts, but a Kuranku. When this old fellow saw Wilberforce, without a word, and without the usual salutations, he pulled out a paper and thrust it into the skipper’s hands. I was on the quarter-deck at the time. Didymus looked pretty serious by the time he had finished reading it, and he and the first lieutenant went down as grave as judges into his cabin.

“The next thing that we heard was that we were really going to have some fun for our money. It turned out that this paper was a letter from Symonds at Seboah, to the effect that if Wilberforce didn’t hurry up, there would not be a single white left alive in the place. There were, he said, some scoundrelly Portuguese handing round, the scum of St Paul de Loanda; they were headed by one Narvaez, a disreputable fellow-countryman from the interior, who had got hold of the natives, and incited them to a massacre of the English floating population. Afterwards, I suppose, he and his crew meant to rule the roost at Seboah. This was the bare outline of Symonds’s message, for he gave more definite details. It was Monday morning when it arrived, and the attack was planned for midnight. We had just nice time to get up there.

“I will not trouble you with any description of the expedition, especially as[5] nothing happened on the way. There were the first and second cutters, forty men each, you know; I was in charge of the second, and we had the steam cutter with a crew of twelve to tow the lot. The skipper went, of course. We had no bother about engaging carriers as we could go all the way by water.[6] I suppose Seboah is about twenty miles from where we were lying; at any rate, we got there between six and seven in the evening, and found it to be an odd little place, half native, half European. It had once evidently been a war town, for there were the remains of the stockade and the ditch, which was possibly what made Narvaez imagine he could hold it. The few English were expecting us, and the whole place was excited and under arms. But there was no attack that night, and in the morning we found out the reason; Narvaez and his friends had bolted.

“So it was not very interesting after all,” continued the Lieutenant regretfully; “though there’s not the slightest doubt that Symonds’s timely message, and our appearance, did avert the biggest kind of a slaughter. It took us three days to put things in to shape; I mean to see that the Portuguese had really cleared out, to punish the native ringleaders, &[7] to feel sure that the other rebellious spirits were sufficiently impressed to be harmless. And really, as Symonds had hinted, the natives were more misguided than malicious, & when the man who had put them up to this idea had hooked it, they seemed quite willing to settle down quietly. Not, you know, that they are as easily intimidated as some of the tribes further South, for they are Susu up the Tanene, Mohammedans by religions, & rather a fine race. But the notion of attacking the whites having merely been jammed into their heads by Narvaez, they appeared glad to be rid of it, & I believe they were.

“The odd thing was that there was no Symonds. Old Diddums was longing to meet him & to expressed his gratitude, & all that sort of thing, but no Symonds was to be seen. At the place they called the hotel, where he had put up, they knew nothing of him. Since Sunday evening no one had set eyes on him. The native he had sent knew nothing of his master’s whereabouts.[8] There seemed to be a general impression that he had gone to Sierra Leone. ‘Very wise thing,’ said the skipper, ‘for if, as I suppose was the case, the Portuguese had found out before we came that Symonds had sent us information, his life might be in considerable danger, I should fancy.’ Someone there who knew Symonds, said that was exactly the reason why he would not have gone, but the general belief was that he had done so, & we pictured him telling the story in Dutscher’s new hotel at Freetown, which had just been opened. Another idea was that he had gone for more assistance, either to the Admiral, or to the Governor for a detachment of the 2nd West India Regiment. The man who made this really very likely suggestion was regarded, I remember, as wishing to cast aspersions on the capability of the Polyanthus to crush unaided any rising, incipient or otherwise. Besides, Symonds had said nothing of this intention in his message. So it is not surprising that we did not think much of his disappearance, when we found the English at Seboah. Though they were not at all disturbed about it, they were quite aware of the debt they owed him. ‘He’s always going off suddenly,’ we were told.[9] He had come hastily into the town, told three or four men of the intending attack, & of the messenger that he was about to send to us, adding that he had left him awaiting the letter a little further down the river, so as to avoid suspicion, had gone off to give him the letter, and had not put in an appearance since. But, as I say, no one worried about that.

“By Wednesday things seemed all right again, & Wilberforce began to think of sending back one boat to the ship. He settled to send back the second cutter and crew, & me with her. He told me this about noon, & we were not to start till four o’clock, so I got leave, as it was my last chance of seeing the place, to have a look round. The doctor was coming too, for I knew that our cautious old skipper would not have let me go alone after the recent upset, though it was perfectly safe. However, just as we were on the point of starting, the doctor was stopped by the news that a seaman gunner had jammed his hand badly in the Maxim when cleaning it. I did not see why I shouldn’t have a short turn by myself, and set out.

“Having seen something of the river as we came up, I thought that I would go inland a bit, and took the shortest cut for the bush. I had not meant to go roaming about alone in the jungle, but it looked so odd and fascinating that directly I saw an opportunity I plunged in. It was fairly weird; desperately lonely. But I am no hand at scenery, and couldn’t describe it if I tried. At last I struck a path again, and I was tramping slowly along, thinking it was about time to turn, when without any warning I was suddenly hailed; a voice, an English voice, called out, ‘Hallo! Polly!’

“Now my Christian name is Paul, & since some idiot in the Britannia promulgated it, this form has stuck to me through the service. But it was the last greeting I expected to hear in the middle of that jungle, I assure you.”

“Parrot, of course!” shouted three or four voices.

“Don’t interrupt. I am coming to that. I never thought for a moment of a parrot, & I can tell you fellows, you wouldn’t have thought of it either, I bet. The voice was quite as human as any of yours. Besides, you don’t expect jungle parrots to talk English. I was fairly startled, brought up, & began to stare all round into the thick masses of creepers & what not. Almost immediately I heard it again, & it came from my right hand, but this time I knew it was not a human voice, for it laughed, a horrid uncanny sort of cackle. You know how a parrot laughs. But I am not sure that I thought of a parrot even then—a man out there gets his head filled with Obi & all his works. This chuckling continued, so that I was able more or less to locate it, & after pushing my way a bit through the jungle growth, I came all at once upon a tiny clearing, & in the midst of this, rather to my surprise, a small round native hut. It was an unlikely place for a habitation of any kind, but there it stood, the regular sort of thing, mud walls & high-pitched, projecting roof. The only light these arrangements get, you know, is from the two opposite doorways, but as the further one of these was blocked, I could see nothing inside. For one moment I hesitated, then I pulled out my revolver & went in.

“It was abominably dark inside at first, but when I had stepped aside from the doorway it cleared quickly. Then I saw, near the wall on my left, something stretched on the ground. It was long and straight, it had a white face, a white hand, & in the hand a revolver, pointed full at me. I saw the glint of the barrel, and moreover I heard the hammer click.

“I knew in a moment, and I think he must have realised the situation even sooner, for the hand sank down again. I was sure too from the way he was lying that there was something wrong. In another second or two I saw what it was.

“‘Good Lord!’ I exclaimed, very much shocked. ‘You are Symonds!’

“‘I believe I am,’ he returned in rather a hollow voice, ‘& you are one of the Polyanthus’s officers. I am very glad to see you.’

“I could see quite well now. I should have known who it was anyhow, from the description I had had of him,—a tallish fair man with a moustache much lighter than his hair. He lay on a grass mat, with his head on another, rolled up, & his feet towards me, & he was—well, in rather a ghastly mess—his left shoulder, the thin silk shirt all caked with blood, & the mat too, a dried pool. It was sufficiently horrid, & I stood staring like an idiot. Symonds went on quite calmly:

“‘I am very glad to see you, for I have been wondering how I could ask your captain if he would mind having me moved from here. You see, if any of his gang were to return, I am afraid that in spite of Narvaez’s revolver—’

“‘Good Heavens,’ said I, coming up to him, ‘of course. But how the dickens—or rather, can I do anything for you?’

“‘Nothing, thanks,’ replied Symonds in the politest tone; ‘I am really very fairly comfortable, except that my shoulder is damnably stiff and painful. But it hasn’t bled for the last two days—’

“‘How long have you been there?’ I asked, feeling rather shaken, and kneeling down by him.

“‘Since Sunday night. And today is—?’

“‘Wednesday,’ I answered. ‘Your shoulder, you know, looks—’

“‘A bit queer, I daresay,’ he returned with great tranquility, ‘but really it’s doing all right, only I can’t move.’

“‘You must be starving then!’ I exclaimed in horror; not the least horrible part of the business was his composure.

“‘Oh dear no! Biscuits—brandy,’ he replied cheerfully, indicating with his right hand a tin and a flask within reach. At that very moment the mysterious voice spoke again. ‘Biscuit. Give Polly a biscuit!’ it demanded, and a large grey parrot came hobbling out from a dark corner. It clambered on to Symonds’s ankle, and stood there on one leg, inviting me, with the other, to scratch its head.

“Symonds gave a sort of weak laugh. ‘You deserve one, old boy,’ he said, ‘for you heard him, I suppose, Mr—’

“‘Cunningham.’

“‘—Cunningham. I knew nothing about you till you stood in the doorway. I had thought at first whether I shouldn’t shoot the bird for fear of his attracting Narvaez or his friends back again, but I didn’t like to, & now I am rewarded for my kindness to animals.’

“‘Narvaez!’ I exclaimed. ‘Then this is his doing?’

“‘Of course. More fool I;—but I’ll tell you how it happened.’ And he told me very briefly how in the Sunday night the Portuguese, having got wind of his message, had shot him while he was asleep,[10] or nearly so, & then had left his—Narvaez’s—revolver in his hand, apparently with the idea of passing off the murder as a suicide. It was not till afterwards, when he gave us the account at length, that I found out what Symonds was doing at the hut; it didn’t seem the best time to question him then, so I did not press the point. But I did gather that he had been too careless of his safety to sacrifice his night’s rest to it.

“Symonds ended by handing me Narvaez’s revolver, which I examined. It was a Colt’s .38. ‘There is only one chamber empty, I fancy. My head goes a bit when I try to count,’ he said apologetically.

“‘Only one charge gone,’ I assented.

“‘And I have that too, in a sense,’ put in he with a grin.

“‘Lucky for you the blackguard didn’t possess one of these,’ I remarked, holding up my own heavy service revolver.

“‘Ye-es. I imagine there would have been little left of my shoulder if he had,’ answered Symonds coolly. He was breaking up a biscuit with his sound hand, and feeding the parrot, who, finding himself unnoticed, had been performing a careful journey up his master’s body, and was on the point of attempting to scale the biscuit tin.

“‘Well, it must be[11] pretty bad as it is,’ I rejoined. ‘How on earth have you got on? Haven’t you had any fever?’

Symonds turned his head slowly on the grass mat. ‘A little,’ he replied, ‘at least, I’ve been a bit light-headed now and then. I thought, for instance—the parrot—carrion crow—all nonsense, of course!’ and he laughed rather oddly. ‘But I tied up my shoulder as well as I could; naturally a bullet at such close quarters makes a goodish hole, but I think the flash went a long way towards cauterizing it. And sometimes I could sleep a bit, and luckily I had this prog within reach. Polly’s quite good company too, at times. And then I had Narvaez’s present—by Jove,’ he added with an accession of interest, ‘I only wish the giver would come back for it!’

“‘No doubt you will see him,’ I replied, ‘though we have not caught him yet. But that reminds me, that the sooner I go & bring back assistance the better for you;—if you are sure I can’t do anything for you first?’

“I looked at him with some anxiety as I rose, for he was fairly grey about the face, with the stubble of a three days’ beard too. As for his shoulder, I could only wonder what the doctor would say. Now that I had been close to him I could see what I remembered once being told about the man, namely, that one of his eyes was grey, the other blue. It was quite noticeable, and I bet it had sent shudders down many a native back.

“‘Really there’s nothing, thanks,’ replied Symonds pleasantly. His tone would have done for a girl refusing an ice at a dance. ‘Unless you are a surgeon I daresay it is as well to let this shoulder of mine alone.’

“‘Then I’ll go at once,’ I replied.[12] ‘I hope there’s no chance of any of that lot coming back to you—I don’t honestly think there is, but I’ll leave you my revolver too, in case.’

“Symonds protested strongly, saying that he had more firearms than he could manage as it was, but I insisted—though when you come to think of it, it was rather ridiculous. But I had got to such a pitch of nervousness about him, and he looked so horribly helpless as he lay there, that I got my way.[13] ‘I shall be back in an hour at longest,’ I assured him, as I turned at the doorway.

“‘Mind you tell Captain Wilberforce how sorry I am to trouble him with the results of my carelessness,’ were his last words.

“The apology seemed absurdly out of place, more especially considering all that we owed him, but I could not help thinking, as I made my way through the tangle, that he had probably put a name to his conduct. Rashness I fancied, was not the word; it was carelessness, or pure indifference. Yet how neatly he had saved Seboah! I didn’t half like leaving him, as I say, and when I struck the broader track, I pelted back as hard as I could go.

“The skipper was in a great state when I came in with my news. It would have looked rather bad if, after what he had done, we had calmly gone off and left Symonds to die in the bush. Didymus went back himself with the ambulance party, & was ready, I know with the profusest apologies, but unluckily Symonds was not in a state to listen to them. He was a bit more than light-headed, poor chap, and the parrot had overturned the biscuit-tin, and having a grand time.

“We got him safely to Seboah, and the parrot too. Symonds ought to think a lot of that bird. It was several days before he could be taken down to the Polyanthus. The skipper would not leave him behind to the rough nursing he would have had at Seboah. The doctor said the whole case was a perfect miracle, firstly because the bullet had not reached a vital part, and secondly because he had neither died from exhaustion, nor fever, nor bloodpoisoning. Each of these things, he gave us to understand, ought to have happened, so that according to him, Symonds was a four times dead man. Only he wasn’t. The bullet, by the way, had deflected on the collar-bone, which it smashed, slid along the shoulder-blade in some way, and come to a standstill in the muscles of the back. I got it from the doctor afterwards, and I keep it in memory of my rather gruesome meeting with one of the best—and oddest—fellows I have ever come across.

“We took Symonds to Freetown, and when he was convalescent we got the whole account out of him. It seems that after despatching his messenger Symonds thought he would do a little reconnoitring. (I ought to have mentioned that he had elicited the information he sent us from a native who had let fall some words which had aroused his suspicions.)[14] He therefore struck out at right angles from the river, and after wandering about for a couple of hours without any result he found himself near the hut which I had lighted on.

“‘I had a sort of right to that hut,’ said Symonds when telling us this, ‘for Harris and the rest of them at Seboah used it as a kind of shooting box on occasions, and they had told me that during my stay in the place I was welcome to use it for that purpose or to sleep there whenever I liked. It happened that a few days before I had conveyed my parrot thither;—oh! don’t go away with the idea that I carry it about[15] with me when I travel, like an old lady. I had only had the bird a fortnight or so; it was a present, which I did not much want, from a man I knew up country. I was thinking of secretly getting rid of it at Freetown next time I went there. At Seboah tame parrots were not much in favour, and people said mine made such a noise that they might as well be in the Zoo; altogether they kicked up such a fuss about him that I sent him down to the hut for the few remaining days of my stay. So when I found myself at the place that evening, as it was late,[16] and I rather tired, it occurred to me to spend the night there, as I had done once before. I will not own that under the circumstances it was foolish, but I give you my word that I never thought of it at the time. I had no reason to think that Narvaez had discovered that I was in possession of his plans—in fact, I don’t quite know to this day how he found out; as it turned out, it was a regular case of the tracker tracked,’ added Symonds, smiling a little ruefully. ‘However, I did put my rifle within reach, and by great good luck I was too lazy to restore the tin of biscuits I had foraged out to its place. I found two grass mats, rolled one up for a pillow, and was soon fast asleep. I must explain that I have a habit—which I am now thinking of abandoning—of sleeping on my face, and I probably dropped off in this position.

“‘I don’t know how long afterwards it was that I became aware that some one was touching me. This consciousness and the actual contact were, I expect, simultaneous, for as I realised the fact, a heavy pressure between my shoulders woke me completely. I made a convulsive movement, there was a muttered exclamation above me, & then the muzzle of a pistol was quickly shoved against my left ear—Narvaez is left-handed, & that one came handiest, as it was uppermost. It was cold and suggestive, and I tell you frankly that I had time to be horribly frightened. Lying as I was, and with the man’s whole weight on me, I could do almost nothing, but in the fraction of a second between his putting the revolver there & pulling the trigger, I did manage to grab the barrel away a little. Instantly there was a deafening report by my ear, a great flash of light and a horrid numbing pain in my shoulder. But I knew at least that my head was still whole. On the whole I expect it was lucky that I did not succeed in avoiding the bullet altogether, as Narvaez would inevitably have fired again.. I can’t imagine why he did not as it was. I thought at the time he would be sure to, but it didn’t seem to matter much, I was so dazed; I felt as I suppose one would on falling from a great height. Probably I was all but insensible when I was roused by the fellow tugging me over on to my back, a sufficiently painful operation. No doubt I might have shammed dead if there had been an alternative, but there wasn’t; I couldn’t move, so there was nothing to do but wait. He waited too; it seemed ages; I thought of all sorts of queer things that had nothing to do with the situation. Then he struck a match, at which I had the sense to shut my eyes—and surveyed me, felt me over a bit, and finally settled, I suppose, that he had done for me, and that there was no need to risk another shot. By this time I was getting very faint again, but I could feel the blood fairly pouring over me, and I heard his heavy breathing, which gradually seemed to grow fainter & further away. I no longer knew where I was or what was happening, but I felt something seize my right hand,[17] a cold object was pressed into it, and some one else—so it seemed—gave a little exclamation, & a sound between a laugh and a cough, and then went away, I suppose. I don’t know.

“‘It was all but pitch dark when I came to myself. I had forgotten all about the affair until I tried to move, when I remembered with a vengeance. At first I could not for the life of me think what[18] I was holding so limply in my hand, & when I discovered the revolver it puzzled me to find a reason for its being there. Finally I decided that it was to represent suicide to a deploring public. I was glad to have it. After a bit I managed to strike a light, and I admit that I was somewhat taken aback at my own appearance. However my shoulder was not bleeding much; I suppose it had got tired of it, and after[19] experimenting very gingerly for half an hour or so, I succeeded in getting my handkerchief round it. My ideas of surgery are somewhat crude, but I thought I had struck a grand plan when I tried to use the barrel of the revolver to tighten the bandage à la tourniquet, but the broken bones didn’t seem to like it at all, and when I turned the matter over it appeared to me that under the circumstances there was not much call for it.[20]

“‘I think that’s all. The parrot, which had apparently slumbered peacefully during Narvaez’s incursion, woke up soon after dawn and made cheering remarks. At least some were cheering, some not; it was not exactly enlivening to have him repeating now & then ‘Goodbye, old boy’, which must have been what his late master used to say to him on leaving him. Did I think I was going out? I really don’t know; I fancy I was getting a bit down in the mouth when Cunningham here came by; the business was becoming a little monotonous.’”

The Naval Lieutenant paused for a moment. ‘Symonds bestowed no more startling epithet than that to those three days and nights. Jove! they must have been ghastly. Queer chap; he wouldn’t let on to it though, and the only thing he seemed really vexed about was having been bagged so easily. When you come to think of it, it was culpable carelessness.

“Narvaez was never caught, but Didymus, as you know, got a lot of kudos for the rest of the business. Oh, Symonds? He’s still out there, and perhaps he and his Portuguese have come across each other by now. If so, I sometimes wonder what Symonds has done.”

“Returned the bullet in kind,” suggested the Captain of Marines.

“Run him in.”

“Forgotten all about it,” said the man who had been at school with Symonds.