Warm heart and
weak head--that is the word of the riddle; and it is a fact that the
bitterest contradictions and the deadliest conflicts of the world are
carried on in every individual breast capable of feeling and passion.
From personal inquiry I can vouch that the story of the convict mutiny
was in every particular as stated by him.
When I got back to Horta from Cayenne and saw the "Anarchist" again, he
did not look well. He was more worn, still more frail, and very livid
indeed under the grimy smudges of his calling. Evidently the meat of the
company's main herd (in its unconcentrated form) did not agree with him
at all.
It was on the pontoon in Horta that we met; and I tried to induce him to
leave the launch moored where she was and follow me to Europe there and
then. It would have been delightful to think of the excellent manager's
surprise and disgust at the poor fellow's escape. But he refused with
unconquerable obstinacy.
"Surely you don't mean to live always here!" I cried. He shook his head.
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