When Sarah got back to the house she worked the camphor into Ronnie’s hand. It was now black and blue all over, and although it was not so swollen as to prevent the movement of his fingers, she knew they must be stiff and painful to bend. Ronnie also knew they were, but said nothing.
‘Please, darling,’ she begged him, ‘please change your mind. There’s no shame in telling the man that you’ve had an accident. I’m sure any gentleman would be willing to postpone.’
‘I dinna think he’s a gentleman,’ Ronnie replied, ‘and I’m not going to gie him the satisfaction of turning me down. We’ll meet tonight. Enough on it, my love.’
She sat with him most of the afternoon, bathing his hand and gently working the camphor into his hand and fingers. She kissed his hand before she went off with his father to clean and test the pistols––the same pistols they had fired on their first outing together.
At five o’ clock, Captain Pearl arrived and was admitted to the house. ‘I have the horses ready,’ he said, ‘What happened to your hand, Ronnie?’
‘You’re early, James,’ Ronnie replied, ‘but very welcome. Thank you for agreeing to do this for me. Ship’s rope fell on it, but I can still move my fingers. Let me just change my shirt and freshen myself up afore we go.’
He walked to the bedroom that he and Sarah shared. Sarah followed him in, and so did Captain Pearl. He wondered about that as he pulled off his shirt, but it was too late. Before he could say anything Pearl dropped a sack over his shoulders and pushed him hard down onto the bed. He was so completely surprised that they had him pinned down and his arms and legs bound before he could resist. They sat him on a chair and tied him to it, leaving his hands free to prevent further swelling, but with a gag in his mouth to prevent him from cursing them all to high heaven and deepest hell. He stared at them in anger and amazement. His father came into the room, but did nothing. In fact he did not look in the least surprised.
‘John’s going to stay with you until it is over,’ Sarah said, and kissed him hard on his open lips.
‘I’m going to take your place,’ she explained. ‘Forgive me, but your hand is no good and you know I’m a better shot.’
Ronnie shook his head violently, and struggled desperately with the ropes, but to no avail. Captain Pearl and Sarah left, and his father turned his head away to avoid his son’s accusing eyes. While Captain Pearl waited outside with the horses and the pistols, Sarah changed into a suit of Ronnie’s clothes: white shirt and a black coat and britches. She was grateful that they were about the same size and build, except for…but it was a big shirt. She picked up his captain’s tricorn and a roll of bandages and pins, and joined Captain Pearl outside.
They rode out the road to Bukit Selegie, and stopped at the edge of the jungle. Sarah took off the tricorn, and wrapped the bandages around her head, leaving only her eyes, nostrils and mouth exposed. She put the tricorn back on, and then got Captain Pearl to wrap another bandage around her right hand, but loose enough to keep her fingers free.
‘It might just work,’ Pearl mused. ‘The light is growing faint, and it will be dark soon. But are you sure you want to go ahead with this?’ When she assured him that she did, Pearl said, ‘You’re a very brave woman, Sarah Simpson. Your husband must be very proud of you.’
‘Proud is the last thing he is at the moment, Captain Pearl,’ she said. ‘Let’s get on with it.’ Then they rode off into the jungle, with Captain Pearl in the lead. When they entered the clearing, they saw Purser and the Negro on the opposite side. Purser was in his shirtsleeves, checking his own weapon; his coat, waistcoat and watch and chain were neatly folded on a log beside him. The Negro carried a shotgun, both barrels leveled towards them.
They dismounted and tethered the horses. Sarah removed the pistols and began to prime the one she considered the better balanced, while Captain Pearl walked across to Purser and the Negro and showed his empty hands. Purser nodded to the Negro, who raised the shotgun and slung the barrels over his shoulder.
‘Good evening, Captain Pearl,’ said Purser in a conversational tone. ‘I trust all is well with your party.’
‘And to you, Mr Purser,’ Pearl replied. ‘Mr Simpson has had an accident. He was struck on the head and the hand by a falling rope, but he will not be deterred. You could of course grant a postponement, or you could forget the matter altogether. I’m sure it did not merit this dangerous meeting.’
‘We heard about his hand, but not about his head,’ Purser replied. ‘But if he is not deterred, then neither am I. On your count of ten, then, when you’re ready, Captain. I must say, though, that your fellow looks like some phantom from the grave. A good job I’m not of a nervous disposition.’
A phantom from the grave. So she does, Pearl thought to himself as he returned to where Sarah stood … but it suits our purpose well enough.
Sarah was ready. She thought for a moment about the absurdity of his choice of this place as the dueling ground, the place where she had first kissed him. But perhaps he had hoped it would bring him luck. She hoped it would bring her luck, as she began to walk out to the centre of the clearing, her pistol by her side, and Purser came out to meet her.
Beads of sweat began to form on her neck, but only on account of the humid air. Her hand was steady and she was not afraid. She was not going to let this man kill her husband.
Suddenly she heard the drumming of hooves, getting closer and closer. The Negro lowered his shotgun, and Purser cocked his pistol. Sarah cocked her own, and Captain Pearl drew his own pistol from beneath his coat.
Their guns all pointed at the approaching riders. Pearl saw them first, and called to the others. ‘Hold your fire! It’s Ronnie Simpson and his father.’
‘What’s this? A trick?’ cried Purser. ‘Then who’s that villain with the bandages? Damn you all and your cheating ways.’
‘His wife,’ replied Pearl, as Sarah removed her tricorn and the bandages around her head. Her brown curls fell over her shoulders.
‘My, my,’ said Purser, with a sneer, as Ronnie reigned in his horse. ‘Well here’s a pretty picture. A man sends his wife to fight for him––some poor excuse of a man.’
‘I did nothing of the kind, Purser,’ Ronnie replied, dismounting. ‘But I’ll spare you the story.’ He handed the reins to his father, who had ridden up behind him.
‘I’m sorry tae the both o’ ye,’ John Simpson said, in a tortured voice, to Sarah and Captain Pearl. ‘I let his gag loose to gie him a drink o’ water, and he cursed me and called me a’ the names o’ the devil. He said he wid never forgive me if I let Sarah die, and that he’d kill the both o’ us if I did. I’ve got a strong constitution, but he was worse than a crowd o’ harpies. I dinna think auld Odysseus himself could have bided it, and that’s the truth.’
‘A touching scene,’ said Purser, as Ronnie embraced Sarah. ‘But which one of you do I kill tonight?’
‘I love you for what you did,’ Ronnie said and kissed her quickly. ‘But I canna let you take my place.’ He eased the pistol from her hand. She saw him flinch as he took it in his. But she did not resist or try to argue with him. She knew her chance was gone.
Purser continued to taunt him. ‘I don’t mind killing your dear wife,’ he said, ‘but I’d much prefer to kill you, Simpson. That would make her a very eligible widow, very eligible indeed! But it grows dark, and we must get on. I must say, all you fellows being here is really quite irregular, but I’m willing to tolerate it for the satisfaction of my honour. But if anyone makes a false move the Negro will blast you to hell.’
‘Let’s get to it then,’ said Ronnie, and went forward to meet him. They stood back to back in the centre of the clearing, as the sun sunk behind the tall palms and the golden gloom began to descend.
‘Goodbye, Mr Simpson,’ said Purser, as Captain Pearl began the count, and they began to pace.
‘One, two, three, four, five …’
‘Good riddance, Mr Purser,’ Ronnie replied.
‘Six, seven, eight, nine, ten,’ Pearl finished, and they turned and faced each other, pistols raised.
Ronnie fired first, but the pain in his swollen fingers caused his hand to flinch––only by a fraction, but enough that his shot flew harmlessly by the side of Purser’s head.
Purser’s pistol was now pointed directly at his brow. Ronnie looked death in the face––in the blue ice of Purser’s eyes, and the cruel smile on his lips. He wanted to turn to look at Sarah one last time, but he could not––it would look like an act of cowardice. Damn him, but the man was taking his time … he was savouring the moment. Then he saw his finger close over the trigger, and heard the sharp crack of the pistol. And then he thought he heard a second shot, as the ball whistled past his right ear.