按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
… Page 179…
The Moon and Sixpence
of hospital；〃 he said to Strickland； when they had got back to the Chink's
Head and were cleaning themselves。
〃This beats cock…fighting；〃 said Strickland。
I could see his sardonic smile。
Captain Nichols was anxious。 He knew Tough Bill's vindictiveness。
Strickland had downed the mulatto twice； and the mulatto； sober； was a
man to be reckoned with。 He would bide his time stealthily。 He would
be in no hurry； but one night Strickland would get a knife…thrust in his
back； and in a day or two the corpse of a nameless beach…comber would be
fished out of the dirty water of the harbour。 Nichols went next evening to
Tough Bill's house and made enquiries。 He was in hospital still； but his
wife； who had been to see him； said he was swearing hard to kill
Strickland when they let him out。
A week passed。
〃That's what I always say；〃 reflected Captain Nichols； 〃when you hurt
a man； hurt him bad。 It gives you a bit of time to look about and think
what you'll do next。〃
Then Strickland had a bit of luck。 A ship bound for Australia had
sent to the Sailors' Home for a stoker in place of one who had thrown
himself overboard off Gibraltar in an attack of delirium tremens。
〃You double down to the harbour； my lad；〃 said the Captain to
Strickland； 〃and sign on。 You've got your papers。〃
Strickland set off at once； and that was the last Captain Nichols saw of
him。 The ship was only in port for six hours； and in the evening Captain
Nichols watched the vanishing smoke from her funnels as she ploughed
East through the wintry sea。
I have narrated all this as best I could； because I like the contrast of
these episodes with the life that I had seen Strickland live in Ashley
Gardens when he was occupied with stocks and shares； but I am aware
that Captain Nichols was an outrageous liar； and I dare say there is not a
word of truth in anything he told me。 I should not be surprised to learn
that he had never seen Strickland in his life； and owed his knowledge of
Marseilles to the pages of a magazine。
179
… Page 180…
The Moon and Sixpence
Chapter XLVIII
It is here that I purposed to end my book。 My first idea was to begin
it with the account of Strickland's last years in Tahiti and with his horrible
death； and then to go back and relate what I knew of his beginnings。
This I meant to do； not from wilfulness； but because I wished to leave
Strickland setting out with I know not what fancies in his lonely soul for
the unknown islands which fired his imagination。 I liked the picture of
him starting at the age of forty…seven； when most men have already settled
comfortably in a groove； for a new world。 I saw him； the sea gray under
the mistral and foam…flecked； watching the vanishing coast of France；
which he was destined never to see again； and I thought there was
something gallant in his bearing and dauntless in his soul。 I wished so to
end on a note of hope。 It seemed to emphasise the unconquerable spirit
of man。 But I could not manage it。 Somehow I could not get into my
story； and after trying once or twice I had to give it up； I started from the
beginning in the usual way； and made up my mind I could only tell what I
knew of Strickland's life in the order in which I learnt the facts。
Those that I have now are fragmentary。 I am in the position of a
biologist who from a single bone must reconstruct not only the appearance
of an extinct animal； but its habits。 Strickland made no particular
impression on the people who came in contact with him in Tahiti。 To
them he was no more than a beach…comber in constant need of money；
remarkable only for the peculiarity that he painted pictures which seemed
to them absurd； and it was not till he had been dead for some years and
agents came from the dealers in Paris and Berlin to look for any pictures
which might still remain on the island； that they had any idea that among
them had dwelt a man of consequence。 They remembered then that they
could have bought for a song canvases which now were worth large sums；
and they could not forgive themselves for the opportunity which had
escaped them。 There was a Jewish trader called Cohen； who had come
by one of Strickland's pictures in a singular way。 He was a little old
Frenchman； with soft kind eyes and a pleasant smile； half trader and half
seaman； who owned a cutter in which he wandered boldly among the
180
… Page 181…
The Moon and Sixpence
Paumotus and the Marquesas； taking out trade goods and bringing back
copra； shell； and pearls。 I went to see him because I was told he had a
large black pearl which he was willing to sell cheaply； and when I
discovered that it was beyond my means I began to talk to him about
Strickland。 He had known him well。
〃You see； I was interested in him because he was a painter；〃 he told me。
〃We don't get many painters in the islands； and I was sorry for him
because he was such a bad one。 I gave him his first job。 I had a
plantation on the peninsula； and I wanted a white overseer。 You never get
any work out of the natives unless you have a white man over them。 I
said to him： ‘You'll have plenty of time for painting； and you can earn a bit
of money。' I knew he was starving； but I offered him good wages。〃
〃I can't imagine that he was a very satisfactory overseer；〃 I said；
smiling。
〃I made allowances。 I have always had a sympathy for artists。 It is in
our blood； you know。 But he only remained a few months。 When he
had enough money to buy paints and canvases he left me。 The place had
got hold of him by then； and he wanted to get away into the bush。 But I
continued to see him now and then。 He would turn up in Papeete every
few months and stay a little while； he'd get money out of someone or other
and then disappear again。 It was on one of these visits that he came to
me and asked for the loan of two hundred francs。 He looked as if he
hadn't had a meal for a week； and I hadn't the heart to refuse him。 Of
course； I never expected to see my money again。 Well； a year later he
came to see me once more； and he brought a picture with him。 He did
not mention the money he owed me； but he said： ‘Here is a picture of
your plantation that I've painted for you。' I looked at it。 I did not know
what to say； but of course I thanked him； and when he had gone away I
showed it to my wife。〃
〃What was it like？〃 I asked。
〃Do not ask me。 I could not make head or tail of it。 I never saw
such a thing in my life。 ‘What shall we do with it？' I said to my wife。
‘We can never hang it up；' she said。 ‘People would laugh at us。' So she
took it into an attic and put it away with all sorts of rubbish； for my wife
181
… Page 182…
The Moon and Sixpence
can never throw anything away。 It is her mania。 Then； imagine to
yourself； just before the war my brother wrote to me from Paris； and said：
‘Do you know anything about an English painter who lived in Tahiti？ It
appears that he was a genius； and his pictures fetch large prices。 See if
you can lay your hands on anything and send it to me。 There's money to
be made。' So I said to my wife。 ‘What about that picture that Strickland
gave me？' Is it possible that