"Of course when we arrived at Durban--for it was while I was in the
Natal trade, in this same little barque--there were a couple of letters
waiting for me that had passed us on the road out; and every mail that
arrived while we were lying in the harbour brought me another, each more
cheerful than the last, because the time was passing away and bringing
our reunion nearer.
"And when at last I got home again, sir, all that they had to show me
was my darling's new-made grave. She had taken typhoid fever, died, and
was carried out of the house in her coffin at the moment that the
telegram announcing my arrival in England was handed in."
Something very like a sob seemed to rise in Roberts's throat and choke
him at this point in his story; but before I had time to frame and
arrange the words of sympathy that struggled to my lips--for I am not a
quick man with my tongue--he resumed--
"I hope, Captain Saint Leger, that if my manner has seemed to you a
little curious to-night, you will not put it down to timorousness, or
faintheartedness, or anything of that sort. I _do_ feel very queer, I
admit; not ill, you understand, but _strange_; a kind of--well, it's
more than a presentiment; I might say it's an absolute certainty that
I'm going to die to-night, coupled with another absolute certainty that
those treacherous fiends of Malays are gathering round us out there in
the darkness. But if my presentiment should prove true, and it comes to
a fight, have no fears on my account. I'll not fail you, sir, in the
moment of need and danger. Danger has long ceased to be an enemy of
mine, and Death lost all his terrors for me when I stood for the first
time beside my Nellie's grave. I am quite ready to die whenever it may
please the Almighty to call me; and if I can do so in defence of those
dear, helpless women and children down below, it will suit me well
enough."
"Thank you, Roberts; thank you, my friend," said I, grasping the hand he
held out to me. "Yours is a very sad, pathetic story, and you have my
hearty sympathy. As to doubting your courage, my good fellow, no such
thought ever entered my head. But I am certain, despite all you say to
the contrary, that you are not quite yourself to-night. Therefore, if
you will not take any medicine, at least go below and try to get a
little sleep; that perhaps will do you as much good as anything. I will
keep the remainder of your watch for you; and should anything occur to
confirm your suspicions as to the Malays, you may reckon on my calling
you in good time."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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