The Ebb-Tide Chapter 9 - The Dinner Party

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THE Ebb Tide The Ebb Tide by Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd Osborne Chapter 9 THE DINNER PARTY They sat down to an island dinner, remarkable for its variety and excellence, turtle soup and steak, fish, fowls, a sucking pig, a coconut salad, and sprouting coconut roasted for dessert. Not a tin had been opened, and save for the oil and vinegar in the salad, and some green spears of onion which Atwater cultivated and plucked with his own hand, not even the condiments were European. Sherry, Hock, and Claret succeeded each other, and the far-loan champagne brought up the rear with the dessert.

It was plain that, like so many of the extremely religious in the days before teetotalism, Atwater had a dash of the epicure. For such characters it is softening to eat well. Doubly so to have designed and have prepared an excellent meal for others, and the manners of their host were agreeably mollified in consequence.

A cat of huge growth sat on his shoulders purring, and occasionally with a deft paw capturing a morsel in the air. To a cat he might be likened himself, as he lulled at the head of his table, dealing out attentions and innuendos, and using the velvet and the claw indifferently. And both Wish and the captain fell progressively under the charm of his hospitable freedom.

Over the third guest, the incidence of the dinner may be said to have passed for long unheeded. Herrick accepted all that was offered him, ate and drank without tasting, and heard without comprehension. His mind was singly occupied in contemplating the horror of the circumstances in which he sat. What Appwater knew, what the captain designed, from which side treachery was to be first expected, these were the ground of his thoughts. There were times when he longed to throw down the table and flee into the night, and even that was debarred him, to do anything, to say anything, to move at all, were only to precipitate the barbarous tragedy, and he sat spellbound, eating with white lips. Two of his companions observed him narrowly. Appwater, with raking, sidelong glances that did not interrupt his talk, the captain with a heavy and anxious consideration.

Well, I must say, this sherry is a really prime article, said Whish. How much does it stand you in, if it's a fair question? A hundred and twelve shillings in London, and the freight to Valparaiso, and on again, said Appwater. It strikes one as really not a bad fluid. A hundred and twelve, murmured the clerk, relishing the wine and the figures in a common ecstasy. Oh, my! So glad you like it, said Appwater. Help yourself, Mr. Wish, and keep the bottle by you. My friend's name is Whish, and not Wish, sir, said the captain, with a flush. I beg your pardon, I am sure. Whish and not Wish, certainly, said Appwater. I was about to say that I have still eight dozen, he added, fixing the captain with his eye.

Eight dozen what? said Davis. Sherry, was the reply. Eight dozen excellent sherry. Why, it seems almost worth it in itself, to a man fond of wine. The ambiguous word struck home to guilty consciences, and Whish and the captain sat up in their places and regarded him with a scare. Worth what? said Davis.

A hundred and twelve shillings, replied Atwater.

The captain breathed hard for a moment. He reached out far and wide to find any coherency in these remarks. Then with a great effort, changed the subject. I allow we are about the first white men upon this island, sir, said he.

Atwater followed him at once, and with entire gravity, to the new ground.

Myself and Dr. Simons accepted, I should say, the only ones, he returned. And yet, who can tell? In the course of the ages, someone may have lived here, and we sometimes think that someone must. The cocoa palms grow all round the island, which is scarce like nature's planting. We found, besides, when we landed, an unmistakable carn upon the beach, use unknown, but probably erected in the hope of gratifying some mumbo-jumbo whose very name is forgotten, by some thick-witted gentry whose very bones are lost. Then the island, witnessed the directory, has been twice reported, and since my tenancy, we have had two wrecks, both derelict. The rest is conjecture. Dr. Simons is your partner, I guess, said Davis.

A dear fellow, Simons. How he would regret it if he knew you had been here, said Atwater. He's on the Trinity All, ain't he? asked Wish. And if you could tell me where the Trinity All was, you could confer a favour, Mr. Wish, was the reply. I suppose she has a native crew, said Davis. Since the secret has been kept ten years, one would suppose she had, replied Atwater. Well, now, see here, said Wish. You have everything about you in no end style, and no mistake. But I tell you, it wouldn't do for me. Too much of the old rustic bridge by the mill, too retired by half. Give me the sound of the bow bells. You must not think it was always so, replied Atwater. This was once a busy shore, although now, hark! You can hear the solitude. I find it stimulating. And talking of the sound of bells, kindly follow a little experiment of mine in silence. There was a silver bell at his right hand to call the servants. He made them a sign to stand still, struck the bell with force, and leaned eagerly forward. The note rose clear and strong. It rang out clear and far into the night and over the deserted island. It died into the distance until there were only lingered in the porches of the ear a vibration that was sound no longer. Empty houses, empty sea, solitary beaches, said Atwater. And yet God hears the bell. And yet we sit in this veranda on a lighted stage with all heaven for spectators. And you call that solitude? There followed a bar of silence, during which the captain sat mesmerized.