Laura, who had grown up bilingual, commenced at first timidly. But the
desperate peril of their surroundings, the excitement of battle, the
thrill of seeing men run, the drop of negro blood that colored her
veins, were all circumstances that presently whirled her into a
resistless torrent of words. Never had she spoken with such a fluency;
never had she framed such sentences. It was all in the Okky tongue,
accurate, biting, glib, telling. Carter broke off from his own halting
speech to listen. He could not speak the language yet with any great
ease, but he could understand almost every word. He chilled as he
listened to her. He coughed a warning. He called sharply that she
should stop. But that drop of negro blood held her to her speech. The
Krooboy, thoroughly warmed up to his work, was yelling infamies down a
tube at the other end of the mess-room. Laura, with eyes glinting and
hands clinched, was growing almost beside herself with speech....
Carter gripped her arm and plucked her almost savagely away.
"You had better shut up. The Okky men have gone, minutes ago, and I do
not think you know what you are saying. Laura, do you hear me?"
She stared at him, and then spoke with a dry throat. "I said only what
you told me. It was to save our lives. And you--you could not
understand what I said. It was Okky talk; you surely could not follow
it. Why do you look at me like that? George, what is it?" She
laughed rather wildly, and plucked herself away from him. "Oh, I see.
Well, I warned you before that I was black, and now I suppose you
believe me."
He returned her look steadily enough. "My dear girl, you've gone
through more than you can stand, and you've just worn yourself to rags.
I never quite knew what hysterics meant before, but I fancy that in
about two minutes more you would show me. Now the trouble's over;
we've fixed 'em tight this time, and you needn't worry yourself any
more. Just you go to your room and lie down and sleep."
"Sleep! You think I could sleep?"
"Very well," he said coolly, "then Trouble and I must wait till you
can. But please understand, my sweetheart, that until you have put in
a four-hours' spell of sleep, and can get up rested to stand a watch,
neither the boy nor I must close an eye. So you see it's up to you to
arrange whether we shall all have a dose of overwork or not."
She came to him and put her slim brown hands on his shoulders and
looked him in the face. There were black rings under her eyes, and her
cheeks were white and drawn, but somehow with her delicious curves she
appealed to him more than ever, and he let her see it in his glance.
"You still call me by that name," she said, "you still call me
sweetheart even after what you have seen and heard?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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