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Updated: May 7, 2025
To his unintermitting outcries Ducat's voice responded: "Shut your jaw!" and Cabasse silenced him more effectually by gagging him with an old blue handkerchief. Then, first waiting a moment to get their breath, they carried him, an inert mass, to the kitchen and deposited him upon the big table, beside the candle.
One night after dinner he and McHenry were bantering each other after a few drinks of rum. McHenry said, "Say, how's your kanaka woman?" Ducat's fingers tightened on his glass. Then, speaking English and very precisely, he asked, "Do you mean my wife?" "I mean your old woman. What's this wife business?" "She is my wife, and we have two children." McHenry grinned. "I know all that.
Our question was destined to remain unanswered. Whatever Ducat had said, it was something that hushed McHenry forever. He never mentioned the subject again, nor did any of us. But McHenry's attitude had subtly changed. Ducat's words had destroyed that last secret refuge of the soul in which every man keeps the vestiges of self-justification and self-respect.
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