The Foot of Time: A Novel of Australia and the South Seas: (1933)

198 THE FOOT OF TIME
as though the official were an apparition from the
nether regions.
Molota saw her man catch his breath, his mouth
harden, his square chin set itself rock fashion. She
saw his nostrils distend, as drawing deep breaths,
the organ had to do double duty unaided.
"Do you hear what I say?" rasped out the visitor.
"Don't sit there like a stuffed image. I've come to
take you back home. What do you mean by it,
absenting yourself in this disgraceful fashion.
Living like a native! You ought to be ashamed of
yourself. How dare you! Why haven't you returned?
Tell me that."
The official's black beard fairly shook in the agitation
of his bitter vituperation.
"For the simple reason that I can't, Sir," replied
Bruce quietly. You see, our launch was smashed
beyond repair. Poor old Brian—my Sydney friend,
you know—was killed, and with no possible means
of communication between here and the nearest
civilisation"—he gave a hollow laugh—"well, you
must see how it is, Sir. I'm practically marooned."
"Do you mean to tell me the black heathen are
holding you. Why, I'll have the island set afire from
top to toe!"
"I shouldn't like you to hurt them, Sir," replied
Bruce, "but—"
"But," finished the other for him, "you return
with me to Fungi, and thence home. Do you hear
me, Sir? Home, by Thursday's boat!"
The boy sprang to his feet, grasped capable
hands in his. "Do you mean you can really get me
THE FOOT OF TIME 199
out of this hole? Are you sure you're not pulling
my dear God! it sounds too good to be
eSgi.rr Oh,
true,
"Don't maul me, young man," came from the
other. "Pack! Do you hear me? Pack! We leave
to-morrow morning, and for good."
Bruce turned to his native wife. "Leave us,
Molota. I'll tell you when I want you again."
"Oui, Monsieur 'usband," said Molota obediently,
her eyes all for her babe rather than for him. "I
go, Monsieur."
The Consul turned to Bruce. "Not content with
lying down to it, making ineffectual effort to force
your will"—he sniffed contemptuously—"your
will, I repeat, upon these ignorant weak heathen
infidels, you must needs take one of them to wife
and give her your wretched babe--"
"Pardon me, Sir," said Bruce, putting restraining
hands upon the other, "but we'll leave the girl out
of it. Also the child. He's a fine youngster, damn
you, and I'm proud of him!"
"You needn't," retorted the official, "I'm damned
enough already without your proffered help, young
man," and Bruce stared at him in wonder.
"It's curious, damn curious," Bruce let out, "but
I seem to have met you somewhere." He passed the
back of his hand across his forehead. His manner
seemed dai d. reamy, as though the long drawn-out
native life and sojourn in the tropics had bemused
his
"You remind me of someone I once knew,"