Limekiller!

These phrases now restored to the top-level of his mind, Jack now began to think about them and about their implications; and, whilst somebody’s record-player shrieked loud good times and loud bad music, think of them he did. He lacked the languorous tropical attitude toward carnal congress and parturition and the sus- tentation of children: and so, he was sure, did Felix. There was no likelihood that she would cut cane in the field till her time arrived and then retire behind a clump of trees, easily to give birth to the offspring of their love. There was no likelihood that Jack would simply give her what he chanced to have in his pockets and inform her that if rations grew scarce his great-aunt in Ladysmith Street would always have an extra plantain or an extra banana. And, although Grandy was always willing and indeed more than willing to take in the tot, Felix did not have a Grandy in the Colony, and neither did Jack, and in the colder climates hearts were at least in this respect less warm. Which left what? The choice. Abortion? And, if not. marriage.

In short, he was perhaps now being obliged to ask himself if he would rather slay the baby in her belly or at long last Settle Down and bend his sunburned neck beneath the yoke. “Shandygaff? Shandygaff?” this was Noddy asking, and, taking some murmur or motion for Yes, he stuck a glass in Jack’s hand and simultaneously and deftly, poured out half a bottle of Coca-Cola and half a bottle of Tennant’s Milk Stout (imported, and well worth the importation). Jack quaffed deeply. “Noddy, thank you,” he said. “Usually I don’t care for fantods in my drink, but this one is just great.” Noddy made a brief mock-bow, murmured something about Native Arts and Crafts, mimed that he would pour another, shook his head briefly at Jack’s No; was off. Mr. J.L.L. asked, “Hey, Felix, do you want,” her eyes turned away the exact second that they met his, and she rose from the rough bench and moved off. A prey once again to the Dismals, Jack said, “a drink,” in a low, helpless voice. Knew as well as he knew anything that if he did not follow after her he would later be furiously accused of neglect; that if he did follow after her, she would turn on him like a cornered wildcat, with a forced-out, “Don’t follow me!” Why, with all the Hazards of the World, did people feel the need to devise new' ones? The heavy air produced no answer. Jack decided he would pay his respects to the nominal host, a matter at which she would perhaps decide she need not resent; and, the second he saw her, call out an invitation to be introduced to the man. It would not be correct to say that he failed to meet Deak’s eye, or that he listened with half an ear; but his attention was not altogether with it.

Just at the moment, however, Major Deak was talking to the tw o Honourables andjack did not care to horn in. He was too well- bred for one thing, and for another he knew not but that the major as principal local landlord might not still exercise medieval powers — say, “the alcalde jurisdiction” or pervovnter in uccage and flemage, say, and order him to be staked out on the foreshore at Sandy Cave until two tides should have flowed and ebbed — and anyway a voice in his ear murmured, ’Jock” and he turned to fight.

“It’s not Jock, it’s — ah, Stickney!” They shook hands, Limekiller explaining that he didn’t wish to be Jock to anyone who w anted to trot out a sporranful of old Scotchman jokes, but, “and what brings you here? didn’t know you were a party-goer.?”

“Came to see Judge Deak, Major Deak, that is, my older brother knew him well when John Deak wras a judge in Golconda Colony and Richard was the Assistant Colonial Secretary. They both went back into the Army during the War, John became a major and Richard became dead; awfully pretty woman, that, you ugly young troll, ah youth! ah woe, the fleeting hours!” Very deftly did Stickney Forster give Jack all the information needed, and then turn the conversation so as to leave no room for feeling a formal need to express regret on the long ago death of someone he had never till now heard of, which expression could be nothing but hypocrisy, or, as Dr. Johnson called it, cant (Sir, clear your mind of cant!). “Deftly,” yes. Part of being a gentleman, and having nothing to do with money, position, and a command of the pickle forks. Jack envied.