We said no more about Heyst on that occasion, and it so happened that
I did not meet Davidson again for some three months. When we did come
together, almost the first thing he said to me was:
"I've seen him."
Before I could exclaim, he assured me that he had taken no liberty, that he had not intruded. He was called in. Otherwise he would not have dreamed of breaking in upon Heyst's privacy.
"I am certain you wouldn't," I assured him, concealing my amusement at
his wonderful delicacy. He was the most delicate man that ever took a
small steamer to and fro among the islands. But his humanity, which was
not less strong and praiseworthy, had induced him to take his
steamer past Samburan wharf (at an average distance of a mile) every
twenty-three days--exactly. Davidson was delicate, humane, and regular.
"Heyst called you in?" I asked, interested.
Yes, Heyst had called him in as he was going by on his usual date. Davidson was examining the shore through his glasses with his unwearied and punctual humanity as he steamed past Samburan.
I saw a man in white. It could only have been Heyst. He had fastened
some sort of enormous flag to a bamboo pole, and was waving it at the
end of the old wharf.
Davidson didn't like to take his steamer alongside--for fear of being
indiscreet, I suppose; but he steered close inshore, stopped his
engines, and lowered a boat. He went himself in that boat, which was
manned, of course, by his Malay seamen.
Heyst, when he saw the boat pulling towards him, dropped his
signalling-pole; and when Davidson arrived, he was kneeling down engaged
busily in unfastening the flag from it.
"Was there anything wrong?" I inquired, Davidson having paused in his
narrative and my curiosity being naturally aroused. You must remember
that Heyst as the Archipelago knew him was not--what shall I say--was
not a signalling sort of man.
"The very words that came out of my mouth," said Davidson, "before I
laid the boat against the piles. I could not help it!"
Heyst got up from his knees and began carefully folding up the flag
thing, which struck Davidson as having the dimensions of a blanket.
"No, nothing wrong," he cried. His white teeth flashed agreeably below
the coppery horizontal bar of his long moustaches.
I don't know whether it was his delicacy or his obesity which prevented
Davidson from clambering upon the wharf. He stood up in the boat, and, above him, Heyst stooped low with urbane smiles, thanking him and apologizing for the liberty, exactly in his usual manner. Davidson had expected some change in the man, but there was none. Nothing in him betrayed the momentous fact that within that jungle there was a girl, a performer in a ladies' orchestra, whom he had carried straight off the concert platform into the wilderness. He was not ashamed or defiant or abashed about it. He might have been a shade confidential when addressing Davidson. And his words were enigmatical.
"I took this course of signalling to you," he said to Davidson, "because
to preserve appearances might be of the utmost importance. Not to me, of
course. I don't care what people may say, and of course no one can hurt
me. I suppose I have done a certain amount of harm, since I allowed
myself to be tempted into action. It seemed innocent enough, but all
action is bound to be harmful. It is devilish. That is why this world
is evil upon the whole. But I have done with it! I shall never lift a
little finger again. At one time I thought that intelligent observation
of facts was the best way of cheating the time which is allotted to us
whether we want it or not; but now I, have done with observation, too."
Imagine poor, simple Davidson being addressed in such terms alongside
an abandoned, decaying wharf jutting out of tropical bush. He had
never heard anybody speak like this before; certainly not Heyst, whose
conversation was concise, polite, with a faint ring of playfulness in
the cultivated tones of his voice.
"He's gone mad," Davidson thought to himself.