The Moon Rock by Arthur J. Rees (each kindness read aloud .txt) 📖

throaty chuckle near by, and turned in affright to see a large bird regarding them from the shadow of the rocks—a sea bird with rounded wings, light-coloured plumage, and curiously staring eyes above a yellow beak. When it saw it was observed it vanished swiftly seaward in noiseless flight.

The division, commenced good-humouredly enough, soon developed the elements of a gamble between Robert Turold and Remington. They forgot Thalassa’s existence as they argued and disputed over the allotment of certain stones. The foot or so of flat rock became the circumference of their thoughts, ambitions, and passions—their world for the time being. In that sordid drama of greed Thalassa seemed to have comported himself with greater dignity than his two superiors by birth and education. He even took it upon himself to reason with them on their folly. Perhaps he knew from his own seamy experience of life what such things developed into. At all events, he urged his companions to defer the division until they returned to civilization and could get the spoils appraised by eyes expert in the knowledge of precious stones. But they would not listen, so, not liking the look of things, he withdrew a little distance off and watched them, leaning against a rock. That was his tacit admission (so Charles interpreted this action) that he was on Robert Turold’s side, and felt that his own interests were identical with those of the master mind. The two, left to themselves, wrangled more fiercely than ever. There were unpleasant taunts and mutual revilings. The listener by the rock learnt definitely what he had previously suspected—that there was bitter blood and bad feeling between the two men, buried for a time, but now revived with a savageness which revealed the hollowness of their supposed reconciliation. It was about a girl, some girl in England with whom they had both been in love. Thalassa gathered that Remington had left England as the favoured suitor. He had (in Thalassa’s words) “cut Turold out.”

Charles Turold could not forbear a faint exclamation of astonishment. His brain reeled in trying to imagine the austere figure of Robert Turold squabbling over a girl and some diamonds on a lonely island in the South Pacific. He was too amazed at the moment to see the implications of this part of the story.

“They went on snarling and showing their teeth, but not biting,” continued Thalassa, “sorting out the little stones all right, but quarrelling over the bigger. There was two—the biggest in the bunch by far—which they kept putting aside because they couldn’t agree about the sharing of them. At last it came about that there was only these two big ‘uns left, lying like two beans on the bit o’ rock, side by side. Before I could guess what was likely to happen Turold grabbed them up quick, and put them in his bottle. ‘These two are mine, Thalassa’s and mine,’ he said. ‘You’ve had your share, Remington.’ Remington sprang from the rock quick as a snake. ‘One’s mine,’ he said. But Turold was up as quick. ‘It’s not for you,’ he says, with his dark smile. ‘We’ll put it against the girl you filched from me, and call it an even deal. What does a happy lover want with diamonds?’ ‘Damn you!’ cries the other, and hit him in the face. They both went down, scuffling and panting in the sand. I stood where I was, for I weren’t going to come between them till I saw how it was going to be. Presently I could see that Remington was stronger, and that Turold was getting the worst of it. After a bit Turold called out, ‘Thalassa!’

“I ran down at that fast enough, and got out my knife as I went. They’d slipped down the sloping beach half-way to the sea, writhing like a couple of the blind-worms that I kept stepping on, going over and over so quick that I couldn’t do anything at first. But one of them was sobbing in his breath as though he was pretty well finished, and I guessed it was Turold. Then I saw Remington’s face on top, and before they could swing round again I got a good stroke in his neck where it gleamed white in the moonlight. The blood jumped out warm on my hand, and he rolled over so quick that I thought I had killed him. But as I stooped over him he was up like a flash, staggering up the steep beach, his feet plopping and sucking in the water underneath. Turold was on his feet by that time, breathing hard, getting back his breath. ‘After him—quick!’ he says to me, his face black with rage—‘he’s got the diamonds.’

“I ran after him up the beach, but he heard me coming and had the start of me. He had firm ground under him by then, and was tearing along the rocks towards the path I’d taken them that afternoon, turning round now and again to look back, the blood glistening in the moonlight on his white face. There we was—him going higher and higher, me after him, and Turold standing below on the beach, staring up at the two of us.

“Run my best, I couldn’t get near him. I suppose he thought he was done for if I caught him, and by that time my blood was pretty well up. I had one pull over him—I knew the island, and he didn’t. The path he was taking led to the top of the island, where the crater was, with a kind of wall of rocks round it. But before you came to that there was a great hole which fell down God Almighty knows how deep, and was supposed to have been another volcano at some time or other. This hole was divided into two by a narrow ridge running right across it, and the path Remington was on took him straight to the edge. So he’d either got to go across this ridge when he come to it or turn back and be caught.

“He was a long way ahead when he come to it, but he never stopped. He just gave one glance down at me, and went on to the ridge. I watched him balancing along it like a man on a tight rope, mounting higher and higher, for the ridge went up steep on the far side. Thinks I to myself, ‘You’re a plucky one,’ then all of a sudden I heard a shout from below, and looked down. There stood Turold, waving me out of the way. He’d been to the boat for a gun we’d brought with us, and was taking aim at Remington. The next thing I saw was Remington turning round on the ledge to come back to my side, having found out, I suppose, that the ridge would take him into the crater. Just as he turned I heard the shot. It must have winged Remington pretty bad, because he went tumbling off the ridge head first, like a man taking a dive into the water. I turned and climbed down to where I’d left Turold. His face was all aglow with rage. ‘The infernal scoundrel!’ he said, then—‘Did you get the diamonds?’ ‘How was I to get them when I never caught him?’ I said. ‘Then we’ll get them off his body in the morning,’ he said in a low tone. ‘You’ll never do that,’ says I. He asks me why not, turning on me a face as savage as a dog’s. ‘Because whichever side he’s dropped he’s safe from us,’ I said. ‘There’s a hole that no man’s ever seen the bottom of on one side of the ridge, and on the other a stinking lake of green boiling sulphur. When you shot him you sent him into one or the other, so you can say good-bye to him and the diamonds.’ ‘Oh!’ he cries, when he heard that—just like that; then after a bit he points up the path, and asks me to go back and have a look for him. I went back as far as the ridge. The moon was clear as day, shining on that infernal green lake on the one side, and into the deep hole on the other. The lake was bubbling and stewing in the moonlight like a witchpot, and the other side of the ridge was just black emptiness, and there was no sign of Remington—I knowed there couldn’t be. Back I went again, and as I was climbing down the path to where Turold was standing I saw something glinting in the black sand at his feet, and when I got there I picked up the bottle of diamonds where Remington must have dropped them when struggling with Turold. I gave them to Turold. ‘And now,’ says I, ‘let’s get out of here. The moon’s bright enough to let me find my way through the reefs, and this island ain’t a healthy place to stay too long on. I know it, and you don’t.’ He was glad enough to follow me to the boat, and we got through on a good flowing tide.”

Thalassa stopped abruptly, as though to leave on his listener’s mind an impression of that furtive departure on a dark whispering sea beneath a blood-red moon.

“You got back to the mainland?” queried Charles, as he remained silent.

“Ay—and to England. Afore we got there Turold had persuaded himself that Remington slipped off the ridge accidental, and that he missed him when he fired.”

“Perhaps his conscience pricked him. Go on.”

“There’s nowt much more to tell. Turold got me my share of the money, and then we parted. He offered to invest it for me, but I wasn’t going to trust no banks—not I. It took me two years to waste it on gambling and women. Then I took to sea again. That lasted another year. Then I found myself in ‘Frisco, where I shipped in a four-masted barque and come home round the Horn. I was pretty sick of the sea after two bad goes of rheumatic fever, so I made up my mind to hunt up Turold. I found him after a while. He didn’t seem best pleased to see me at first, but he said I could stay till he had time to think out what he could do for me. That was the beginning of it. We never parted again, him and me, until he was carried out of yon house feet first. We got used to each other’s ways, and I was worth all he paid me because I saved him worry and expense. He was all for saving, in those days. Married he was too, to a little timid thing of a girl who was in fear and trembling of him. ‘Twas a black day for her when she married that headstrong stubborn devil. ‘Mr.’ Thalassa she always called me, poor woman. I married a maid-servant they had. That was Turold’s idea—he thought by that way he could get his household looked after very cheaply by the pair of us. I wasn’t keen on marrying, but it didn’t make much odds one way or the other, for no living woman, wife or no wife, would have kept me in England if I’d wanted to get out. As it happened, I never did. I stayed on, going from place to place where they went—where Turold took us.”

“Whom did my uncle marry?” asked Charles.

“You might a’ guessed that. ‘Twas the girl t’other had cut him out of. I thought the masterful devil’d get her when Remington was out of the way, but I asked him once straight out, and he said yes, it was the same girl. She was a pretty timid little thing in those days, but I don’t know why they was both so mad after her. However, there it was.”

“And do you think that after all these years, Remington is really alive?” said Charles, looking at him earnestly. “Do you think it was he who murdered my uncle?”

“Happen maybe, happen not. The night he was killed I found him in a rare funk in his room. He rang his bell like a fury, and when I went up he swore he heard the footsteps of Remington just afore, running round the rocks outside of Flint House just as he heard him pattering along the rocks on the island that night. I didn’t believe ‘un then, but I’m not so sure since. If he’s come back to get Turold it’s for sure he’s still somewhere about, waiting his chance to get me as well. I’m keeping my eye open for ‘un—walked the coast for miles, I have, looking for him. He won’t take me unawares, same as Turold.” His eyes searched the cliffs behind them.

“You may not recognize him if you meet him. It is thirty