Old Mary
Produced by David Widger
"OLD MARY"
By Louis Becke
T. Fisher Unwin, 1901
I
Early one morning, just as the trade wind began to lift the whitemountain mist which enveloped the dark valleys and mountain slopes ofthe island, Denison, the supercargo of the trading schooner _Palestine_,put off from her side and was pulled ashore to the house of theone white trader. The man's name was Handle, and as he heard thesupercargo's footstep he came to the door and bade him good morning.
"How are you, Randle?" said the young man, shaking hands with thequiet-voiced, white-haired old trader, and following him inside. "I'mgoing for a day's shooting while I have the chance. Can you come?"
Randle shook his head. "Would like to, but can't spare the time to-day;but Harry and the girls will be delighted to go with you. Wait a minute,and have a cup of coffee first. They'll be here presently."
Denison put down his gun and took a seat in the cool,comfortable-looking sitting-room, and in a few minutes Hester and KateRandle and their brother came in. The two girls were both over twentyyears of age. Hester, the elder, was remarkably handsome, and muchresembled her father in voice and manner. Kate was of much smallerbuild, full of vivacity, and her big, merry brown eyes matched thedimples on her soft, sun-tanned cheeks. Harry, who was Randle's youngestchild, was a heavily-built, somewhat sullen-faced youth of eighteen, andthe native blood in his veins showed much more strongly than it did withhis sisters. They were all pleased to see the supercargo, and at onceset about making preparations, Harry getting their guns ready and thetwo girls packing a basket with cold food.
"You'll get any amount of pigeons about two miles from here," said theold trader, "and very likely a pig or two. The girls know the way, andif two of you take the right branch of the river and two the left you'llhave some fine sport."
"Father," said the elder girl, in her pretty, halting English, as shepicked up her gun, "don' you think Mr. Denison would like to see ol'Mary? We hav' been tell him so much about her. Don' you think we mightstop there and let Mr. Denison have some talk with her?"
"Ay, ay, my girl. Yes; go and see the poor old thing. I'm sure she'll bedelighted. You'll like her, Mr. Denison. She's as fine an old woman asever breathed. But don't take that basket of food with you, Kate. She'dfeel awfully insulted if you did not eat in her house."
The girls obeyed, much to their brother's satisfaction, inasmuch as thebasket was rather heavy, and also awkward to carry through the mountainforest. In a few minutes the four started, and Hester, as she steppedout beside Denison, said that she was glad he was visiting old Mary."You see," she said, "she hav' not good eyesight now, and so she cannotnow come an' see us as she do plenty times before."
"I'm glad I shall see her," said the young man; "she must be a good oldsoul."
"Oh, yes," broke in Kate, "she _is_ good and brave, an' we all love her.Every one _mus_' love her. She hav' known us since we were born, andwhen our mother died in Samoa ten years ago old Mary was jus' like asecond mother to us. An' my father tried so hard to get her to come andlive with us; but no, she would not, not even fo' us. So she went backto her house in the mountain, because she says she wants to die there.Ah, you will like her... and she will tell you how she saved the shipwhen her husband was killed, and about many, many things."
*****
Two hours later Denison and his friends emerged out upon cultivatedground at the foot of the mountain, on which stood three or four nativehouses, all neatly enclosed by low stone walls formed of coral slabs.In front of the village a crystal stream poured swiftly and noisily overits rocky bed on its way seaward, and on each thickly wooded bank thestately boles of some scores of graceful coco-palms rose high above thesurrounding foliage. Except for the hum of the brawling stream and thecries of birds, the silence was unbroken, and only two or three smallchildren, who were playing under the shade of a breadfruit-tree, werevisible. But these, as they heard the sound of the visitors' voices,came towards them shouting out to their elders within the huts that"four white people with guns" had come. In a moment some grown people ofboth sexes came out and shook hands with the party.
"This is Mary's house," said Hester to Denison, pointing out thelargest; "let us go there at once. Ah, see, there she is at the doorwaiting for us."
"Come, come inside," cried the old woman in a firm yet pleasant voice,and Denison, looking to the right, saw that "Mary," in spite of heryears and blindness, was still robust and active-looking. She wasdressed in a blue print gown and blouse, and her grey hair was neatlydressed in the island fashion. In her smooth, brown right hand shegrasped the handle of a polished walking-stick, her left arm she heldacross her bosom--the hand was missing from the wrist.
"How do you do, sir?" she said in clear English, as, giving her stick toKate Randle, she held out her hand to the supercargo. "I am so gladthat you have come to see me. You are Mr. Denison, I know. Is CaptainPackenham quite well? Come, Kitty, see to your friend. There, that canelounge is the most comfortable. Harry, please shoot a couple of chickensat once, and then tell my people to get some taro, and make an oven."
"Oh, that is just like you, Mary," said Kate, laughing, "before we havespoken three words to you you begin cooking things for us."
The old woman turned her sunburnt face towards the girl and shook herstick warningly, and said in the native tongue--
"Leave me to rule in mine own house, saucy," and then Denison had aneffort to restrain his gravity as Mary, unaware that he had a very fairknowledge of the dialect in which she spoke, asked the two girls ifeither of them had thought of him as a husband. Kate put her hand overMary's mouth and whispered to her to cease. She drew the girl to her andhugged her.
Whilst the meal was being prepared Denison was studying the house andits contents. Exteriorly the place bore no difference to the usualnative house, but within it was plainly but yet comfortably furnishedin European fashion, and the tables, chairs, and sideboard had evidentlybeen a portion of a ship's cabin fittings. From the sitting-room--thefloor of which was covered by white China matting--he could see abedroom opposite, a bed with snowy white mosquito curtains, and twomahogany chairs draped with old-fashioned antimacassars. The sight ofthese simple furnishings first made him smile, then sigh--he had notseen such things since he had left his own home nearly six years before.Hung upon the walls of the sitting-room were half a dozen old and fadedengravings, and on a side-table were a sextant and chronometer case,each containing instruments so clumsy and obsolete that a modern seamanwould have looked upon them as veritable curiosities.
From the surroundings within the room Denison's eyes wandered to theplacid beauty of the scene without, where the plumes of the coco-palmsoverhanging the swift waters of the tiny stream scarce stirred to thelight air that blew softly up the valley from the sea, and when they didmove narrow shafts of light from the now high-mounted sun would glintand shine through upon the pale green foliage of the scrub beneath.Then once again his attention was directed to their hostess, who wasnow talking quietly to the two Randle girls, her calm, peaceful featuresseeming to him to derive an added but yet consistent dignity from theharmonies of Nature around her.
What was the story of her infancy? he wondered. That she did not know itherself he had been told by old Randle, who yet knew more of her historyand the tragedy of her later life than any one else. Both young Denison,the supercargo of five-and-twenty, and Randle, the grizzled wanderer andveteran of sixty-five, had known many tragedies during their career inthe Pacific; but the story of this half-blind, crippled old woman, whenhe learnt it in full, appealed strongly to the younger man, and wasnever forgotten in his after life.
*****
They had had a merry midday meal, during which Mary Eury--for that washer name--promised Deni
son that she would tell him all about herselfafter he and the Randles came back from shooting, "but," she added, withher soft, tremulous laugh, "only on one condition, Mr. Denison--onlyon one condition. You must bring Captain Packenham to see me before the_Palestine_ sails. I am an old woman-now, and would like to see him. Iknew him many years ago when he was a lad of nineteen. Ah, it is so longago! That was in Samoa. Has he never spoken of me?"
"Often, Mrs. Eury----"
"Don't call me Mrs. Eury, Mr. Denison. Call me 'Mary,' as do these dearfriends of mine. 'Mary'--'old' Mary if you like. Every one who knew meand my dear husband in those far, far back