Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Novelists -- Fiction; Secretaries -- Fiction; Voyages and travels -- Fiction; West Indies -- Fiction
The island of Dominica is very beautiful and I remembered enjoying this
ride greatly on my previous visit. The vegetation is thoroughly
tropical. The excessive moisture caused by rains which occur daily
through most of the year gives to everything a luxuriance not exceeded
north of the equator, I believe. The mountain path by which we went is
too narrow in most places to ride abreast, but wherever we could get
side by side I managed to do so. At such times the sense of
companionship was thrillingly delicious, and while I dared not risk
offending by becoming too familiar, I managed to play the discreet lover
and was very happy.
I thought I was certainly improving. There had been a time, not so very
long before, when I would Have planted myself in the lady's way, and
exacted tribute before letting her by, trusting to her forgiveness after
the deed was done. I would have given much to have dared the same thing
now, but the thought did not seriously enter my head. I was certainly
growing better under my excellent teacher.
There was one point at which I had a jealous pang, so ridiculous that I
think it only right to detail the occurrence. We went out of our way to
view a sulphur pit, where the Evil One or some of his satellites have
apparently secured an opening to the air from the very Bottomless Pit
itself. The atmosphere is charged with fumes, while the deposit bubbles
and froths in a way to strike terror into the heart of an infidel. To
get a near view, one must be carried across a small stream by a couple
of negroes, or--take off his shoes and stockings and wade. Miss May
looked somewhat aghast at both propositions, and I allowed the boys to
carry me over first, to show her how safe the process was. But, though
it might be safe, it was clearly not graceful, for they handled a human
being quite as if he were a sack, thinking their duty done if they got
him across without dropping him in the brook.
She said, at first, that she believed she would rather wade and sat down
to take off her boots. Then, when it came to the hosiery and her fingers
had begun to wander toward the fastenings, she had another period of
doubt, calling to me to know if there was really anything worth seeing.
Finally putting on her boots again, she directed the negroes how to make
a sort of "cat's-cradle" chair and arrived safely in that manner.
It was then that I had my pang. For she put both her fair arms around
the neck of the bearers to steady herself in transit.
"I shall insist on being one of your porteurs, on your return," I said,
as she was placed on her feet. "If you are going to put your arms around
the neck of any man in this island it must be myself."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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