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diff --git a/17642-h/17642-h.htm b/17642-h/17642-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d71641e --- /dev/null +++ b/17642-h/17642-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,20494 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Romance | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + div.middle { margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} +/* Poetry */ +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 5%; text-indent: 0em;} +/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry in browsers */ +/* .poetry {display: inline-block;} */ +/* large inline blocks don't split well on paged devices */ +@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } +.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block; margin-left: 5%} +.big {font-size: 1.2em;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Romance, by Joseph Conrad and F.M. Hueffer</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Romance</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Martin</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 31, 2006 [EBook #17642]<br> +[Most recently updated: February 19, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROMANCE ***</div> + + + <p> + <br> <br> + </p> + <h1> + ROMANCE + </h1> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="center big"> + By Joseph Conrad<br><br> and<br><br> F. M. Hueffer + </p> + <p> + <br> <br> + </p> + <div class="middle"> + COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY<br> DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY<br> ALL RIGHTS + RESERVED<br> PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES<br> AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, + GARDEN CITY, N. Y. + </div> + <p> + <br> <br> + </p> + <p class="center big"> + TO +<br> ELSIE AND JESSIE + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> +<p class="poetry"> + “C’est toi qui dors dans Vombre, O sacré Souvenir.” + If we could have remembrance now + And see, as in the days to come + We shall, what’s venturous in these hours: + The swift, intangible romance of fields at home, + The gleams of sun, the showers, + Our workaday contentments, or our powers + To fare still forward through the uncharted haze + Of present days.... + For, looking back when years shall flow + Upon this olden day that’s now, + We’ll see, romantic in dimm’d hours, + These memories of ours. +</p> + <p> + <br> <br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br> <br> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <span class="big"><b>CONTENTS</b></span> + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART1"> <b>PART FIRST — THE QUARRY AND THE BEACH</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FIVE </a> + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART2"> <b>PART SECOND — THE GIRL WITH THE LIZARD</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER FIVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER SIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER SEVEN </a> + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART3"> <b>PART THIRD — CASA RIEGO</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER FIVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER SIX </a> + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART4"> <b>PART FOURTH — BLADE AND GUITAR</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER FIVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER SIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER SEVEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER EIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER NINE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER TEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER ELEVEN </a> + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART5"> <b>PART FIFTH — THE LOT OF MAN</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER FIVE </a> + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2H_TOC"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br> <br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_PART1"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br> <br> + </p> + <h2> + PART FIRST — THE QUARRY AND THE BEACH + </h2> + <p> + ROMANCE <a id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER ONE + </h3> + <p> + To yesterday and to to-day I say my polite “vaya usted con Dios.” What are + these days to me? But that far-off day of my romance, when from between + the blue and white bales in Don Ramon’s darkened storeroom, at Kingston, I + saw the door open before the figure of an old man with the tired, long, + white face, that day I am not likely to forget. I remember the chilly + smell of the typical West Indian store, the indescribable smell of damp + gloom, of locos, of pimento, of olive oil, of new sugar, of new rum; the + glassy double sheen of Ramon’s great spectacles, the piercing eyes in the + mahogany face, while the tap, tap, tap of a cane on the flags went on + behind the inner door; the click of the latch; the stream of light. The + door, petulantly thrust inwards, struck against some barrels. I remember + the rattling of the bolts on that door, and the tall figure that appeared + there, snuffbox in hand. In that land of white clothes, that precise, + ancient, Castilian in black was something to remember. The black cane that + had made the tap, tap, tap dangled by a silken cord from the hand whose + delicate blue-veined, wrinkled wrist ran back into a foam of lawn ruffles. + The other hand paused in the act of conveying a pinch of snuff to the + nostrils of the hooked nose that had, on the skin stretched tight over the + bridge, the polish of old ivory; the elbow pressing the black cocked-hat + against the side; the legs, one bent, the other bowing a little back—this + was the attitude of Seraphina’s father. + </p> + <p> + Having imperiously thrust the door of the inner room open, he remained + immovable, with no intention of entering, and called in a harsh, aged + voice: “Señor Ramon! Señor Ramon!” and then twice: “Sera-phina—Seraphina!” + turning his head back. + </p> + <p> + Then for the first time I saw Seraphina, looking over her father’s + shoulder. I remember her face on that day; her eyes were gray—the + gray of black, not of blue. For a moment they looked me straight in the + face, reflectively, unconcerned, and then travelled to the spectacles of + old Ramon. + </p> + <p> + This glance—remember I was young on that day—had been enough + to set me wondering what they were thinking of me; what they could have + seen of me. + </p> + <p> + “But there he is—your Señor Ramon,” she said to her father, as if + she were chiding him for a petulance in calling; “your sight is not very + good, my poor little father—there he is, your Ramon.” + </p> + <p> + The warm reflection of the light behind her, gilding the curve of her face + from ear to chin, lost itself in the shadows of black lace falling from + dark hair that was not quite black. She spoke as if the words clung to her + lips; as if she had to put them forth delicately for fear of damaging the + frail things. She raised her long hand to a white flower that clung above + her ear like the pen of a clerk, and disappeared. Ramon hurried with a + stiffness of immense respect towards the ancient grandee. The door swung + to. + </p> + <p> + I remained alone. The blue bales and the white, and the great red oil jars + loomed in the dim light filtering through the jalousies out of the + blinding sunlight of Jamaica. A moment after, the door opened once more + and a young man came out to me; tall, slim, with very bright, very large + black eyes aglow in an absolute pallor of face. That was Carlos Riego. + </p> + <p> + Well, that is my yesterday of romance, for the many things that have + passed between those times and now have become dim or have gone out of my + mind. And my day before yesterday was the day on which I, at twenty-two, + stood looking at myself in the tall glass, the day on which I left my home + in Kent and went, as chance willed it, out to sea with Carlos Riego. + </p> + <p> + That day my cousin Rooksby had become engaged to my sister Veronica, and I + had a fit of jealous misery. I was rawboned, with fair hair, I had a good + skin, tanned by the weather, good teeth, and brown eyes. I had not had a + very happy life, and I had lived shut in on myself, thinking of the wide + world beyond my reach, that seemed to hold out infinite possibilities of + romance, of adventure, of love, perhaps, and stores of gold. In the family + my mother counted; my father did not. She was the daughter of a Scottish + earl who had ruined himself again and again. He had been an inventor, a + projector, and my mother had been a poor beauty, brought up on the farm we + still lived on—the last rag of land that had remained to her father. + Then she had married a good man in his way; a good enough catch; + moderately well off, very amiable, easily influenced, a dilettante, and a + bit of a dreamer, too. He had taken her into the swim of the Regency, and + his purse had not held out. So my mother, asserting herself, had insisted + upon a return to our farm, which had been her dowry. The alternative would + have been a shabby, ignominious life at Calais, in the shadow of Brummel + and such. + </p> + <p> + My father used to sit all day by the fire, inscribing “ideas” every now + and then in a pocket-book. I think he was writing an epic poem, and I + think he was happy in an ineffectual way. He had thin red hair, untidy for + want of a valet, a shining, delicate, hooked nose, narrow-lidded blue + eyes, and a face with the colour and texture of a white-heart cherry. He + used to spend his days in a hooded chair. My mother managed everything, + leading an out-of-door life which gave her face the colour of a wrinkled + pippin. It was the face of a Roman mother, tight-lipped, brown-eyed, and + fierce. You may understand the kind of woman she was from the hands she + employed on the farm. They were smugglers and night-malefactors to a man—and + she liked that. The decent, slow-witted, gently devious type of rustic + could not live under her. The neighbours round declared that the Lady Mary + Kemp’s farm was a hotbed of disorder. I expect it was, too; three of our + men were hung up at Canterbury on one day—for horse-stealing and + arson.... Anyhow, that was my mother. As for me, I was under her, and, + since I had my aspirations, I had a rather bitter childhood. And I had + others to contrast myself with. First there was Rooksby: a pleasant, + well-spoken, amiable young squire of the immediate neighbourhood; young + Sir Ralph, a man popular with all sorts, and in love with my sister + Veronica from early days. Veronica was very beautiful, and very gentle, + and very kind; tall, slim, with sloping white shoulders and long white + arms, hair the colour of amber, and startled blue eyes—a good mate + for Rooksby. Rooksby had foreign relations, too. The uncle from whom he + inherited the Priory had married a Riego, a Castilian, during the + Peninsular war. He had been a prisoner at the time—he had died in + Spain, I think. When Ralph made the grand tour, he had made the + acquaintance of his Spanish relations; he used to talk about them, the + Riegos, and Veronica used to talk of what he said of them until they came + to stand for Romance, the romance of the outer world, to me. One day, a + little before Ralph and Veronica became engaged, these Spaniards descended + out of the blue. It was Romance suddenly dangled right before my eyes. It + was Romance; you have no idea what it meant to me to talk to Carlos Riego. + </p> + <p> + Rooksby was kind enough. He had me over to the Priory, where I made the + acquaintance of the two maiden ladies, his second cousins, who kept house + for him. Yes, Ralph was kind; but I rather hated him for it, and was a + little glad when he, too, had to suffer some of the pangs of jealousy—jealousy + of Carlos Riego. + </p> + <p> + Carlos was dark, and of a grace to set Ralph as much in the shade as Ralph + himself set me; and Carlos had seen a deal more of the world than Ralph. + He had a foreign sense of humour that made him forever ready to sacrifice + his personal dignity. It made Veronica laugh, and even drew a grim smile + from my mother; but it gave Ralph bad moments. How he came into these + parts was a little of a mystery. When Ralph was displeased with this + Spanish connection he used to swear that Carlos had cut a throat or taken + a purse. At other times he used to say that it was a political matter. In + fine, Carlos had the hospitality of the Priory, and the title of Count + when he chose to use it. He brought with him a short, pursy, bearded + companion, half friend, half servant, who said he had served in Napoleon’s + Spanish contingent, and had a way of striking his breast with a wooden + hand (his arm had suffered in a cavalry charge), and exclaiming, “I, Tomas + Castro! ...” He was an Andalusian. + </p> + <p> + For myself, the first shock of his strangeness over-come, I adored Carlos, + and Veronica liked him, and laughed at him, till one day he said good-by + and rode off along the London road, followed by his Tomas Castro. I had an + intense longing to go with him out into the great world that brooded all + round our foothills. + </p> + <p> + You are to remember that I knew nothing whatever of that great world. I + had never been further away from our farm than just to Canterbury school, + to Hythe market, to Romney market. Our farm nestled down under the steep, + brown downs, just beside the Roman road to Canterbury; Stone Street—the + Street—we called it. Ralph’s land was just on the other side of the + Street, and the shepherds on the downs used to see of nights a + dead-and-gone Rooksby, Sir Peter that was, ride upon it past the quarry + with his head under his arm. I don’t think I believed in him, but I + believed in the smugglers who shared the highway with that horrible ghost. + It is impossible for any one nowadays-to conceive the effect these + smugglers had upon life thereabouts and then. They were the power to which + everything else deferred. They used to overrun the country in great bands, + and brooked no interference with their business. Not long before they had + defeated regular troops in a pitched battle on the Marsh, and on the very + day I went away I remember we couldn’t do our carting because the + smugglers had given us notice they would need our horses in the evening. + They were a power in the land where there was violence enough without + them, God knows! Our position on that Street put us in the midst of it + all. At dusk we shut our doors, pulled down our blinds, sat round the + fire, and knew pretty well what was going on outside. There would be long + whistles in the dark, and when we found men lurking in our barns we + feigned not to see them—it was safer so. The smugglers—the + Free Traders, they called themselves—were as well organized for + helping malefactors out of the country as for running goods in; so it came + about that we used to have comers and forgers, murderers and French spies—all + sorts of malefactors—hiding in our straw throughout the day, + wait-for the whistle to blow from the Street at dusk. I, born with my + century, was familiar with these things; but my mother forbade my meddling + with them. I expect she knew enough herself—all the resident gentry + did. But Ralph—though he was to some extent of the new school, and + used to boast that, if applied to, he “would grant a warrant against any + Free Trader”—never did, as a matter of fact, or not for many years. + </p> + <p> + Carlos, then, Rooksby’s Spanish kinsman, had come and gone, and I envied + him his going, with his air of mystery, to some far-off lawless adventures—perhaps + over there in Spain, where there were war and rebellion. Shortly + afterwards Rooksby proposed for the hand of Veronica and was accepted—by + my mother. Veronica went about looking happy. That upset me, too. It + seemed unjust that she should go out into the great world—to Bath, + to Brighton, should see the Prince Regent and the great fights on Hounslow + Heath—whilst I was to remain forever a farmer’s boy. That afternoon + I was upstairs, looking at the reflection of myself in the tall glass, + wondering miserably why I seemed to be such an oaf. + </p> + <p> + The voice of Rooksby hailed me suddenly from downstairs. “Hey, John—John + Kemp; come down, I say!” + </p> + <p> + I started away from the glass as if I had been taken in an act of folly. + Rooksby was flicking his leg with his switch in the doorway, at the bottom + of the narrow flight of stairs. + </p> + <p> + He wanted to talk to me, he said, and I followed him out through the yard + on to the soft road that climbs the hill to westward. The evening was + falling slowly and mournfully; it was dark already in the folds of the + sombre downs. + </p> + <p> + We passed the corner of the orchard. “I know what you’ve got to tell me,” + I said. “You’re going to marry Veronica. Well, you’ve no need of my + blessing. Some people have all the luck. Here am I ... look at me!” + </p> + <p> + Ralph walked with his head bent down. + </p> + <p> + “Confound it,” I said, “I shall run away to sea! I tell you, I’m rotting, + rotting! There! I say, Ralph, give me Carlos’ direction....” I caught hold + of his arm. “I’ll go after him. He’d show me a little life. He said he + would.” + </p> + <p> + Ralph remained lost in a kind of gloomy abstraction, while I went on + worrying him for Carlos’ address. + </p> + <p> + “Carlos is the only soul I know outside five miles from here. Besides, + he’s friends in the Indies. That’s where I want to go, and he could give + me a cast. You remember what Tomas Castro said....” + </p> + <p> + Rooksby came to a sudden halt, and began furiously to switch his corded + legs. + </p> + <p> + “Curse Carlos, and his Castro, too. They’ll have me in jail betwixt them. + They’re both in my red barn, if you want their direction....” + </p> + <p> + He hurried on suddenly up the hill, leaving me gazing upwards at him. When + I caught him up he was swearing—as one did in those days—and + stamping his foot in the middle of the road. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you,” he said violently, “it’s the most accursed business! That + Castro, with his Cuba, is nothing but a blasted buccaneer... and Carlos is + no better. They go to Liverpool for a passage to Jamaica, and see what + comes of it!” + </p> + <p> + It seems that on Liverpool docks, in the owl-light, they fell in with an + elderly hunks just returned from West Indies, who asks the time at the + door of a shipping agent. Castro pulls out a watch, and the old fellow + jumps on it, vows it’s his own, taken from him years before by some + picaroons on his outward voyage. Out from the agent’s comes another, and + swears that Castro is one of the self-same crew. He himself purported to + be the master of the very ship. Afterwards—in the solitary dusk + among the ropes and bales—there had evidently been some play with + knives, and it ended with a flight to London, and then down to Rooksby’s + red barn, with the runners in full cry after them. + </p> + <p> + “Think of it,” Rooksby said, “and me a justice, and... oh, it drives me + wild, this hole-and-corner work! There’s a filthy muddle with the Free + Traders—a whistle to blow after dark at the quarry. To-night of all + nights, and me a justice... and as good as a married man!” + </p> + <p> + I looked at him wonderingly in the dusk; his high coat collar almost hid + his face, and his hat was pressed down over his eyes. The thing seemed + incredible to me. Here was an adventure, and I was shocked to see that + Rooksby was in a pitiable state about it. + </p> + <p> + “But, Ralph,” I said, “I would help Carlos.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you,” he said fretfully. “You want to run your head into a noose; + that’s what it comes to. Why, I may have to flee the country. There’s the + red-breasts poking their noses into every cottage on the Ashford road.” He + strode on again. A wisp of mist came stealing down the hill. “I can’t give + my cousin up. He could be smuggled out, right enough. But then I should + have to get across salt water, too, for at least a year. Why——” + </p> + <p> + He seemed ready to tear his hair, and then I put in my say. He needed a + little persuasion, though, in spite of Veronica. + </p> + <p> + I should have to meet Carlos Riego and Castro in a little fir-wood above + the quarry, in half an hour’s time. All I had to do was to whistle three + bars of “Lillibulero,” as a signal. A connection had been already arranged + with the Free Traders on the road beside the quarry, and they were coming + down that night, as we knew well enough, both of us. They were coming in + force from Canterbury way down to the Marsh. It had cost Ralph a pretty + penny; but, once in the hands of the smugglers, his cousin and Castro + would be safe enough from the runners; it would have needed a troop of + horse to take them. The difficulty was that of late the smugglers + themselves had become demoralized. There were ugly rumours of it; and + there was a danger that Castro and Carlos, if not looked after, might end + their days in some marsh-dyke. It was desirable that someone well known in + our parts should see them to the seashore. A boat, there, was to take them + out into the bay, where an outward-bound West Indiaman would pick them up. + But for Ralph’s fear for his neck, which had increased in value since its + devotion to Veronica, he would have squired his cousin. As it was, he + fluttered round the idea of letting me take his place. Finally he settled + it; and I embarked on a long adventure. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER TWO + </h3> + <p> + Between moonrise and sunset I was stumbling through the bracken of the + little copse that was like a tuft of hair on the brow of the great white + quarry. It was quite dark, in among the trees. I made the circuit of the + copse, whistling softly my three bars of “Lillibulero.” Then I plunged + into it. The bracken underfoot rustled and rustled. I came to a halt. A + little bar of light lay on the horizon in front of me, almost colourless. + It was crossed again and again by the small fir-trunks that were little + more than wands. A woodpigeon rose with a sudden crash of sound, flapping + away against the branches. My pulse was dancing with delight—my + heart, too. It was like a game of hide-and-seek, and yet it was life at + last. Everything grew silent again and I began to think I had missed my + time. Down below in the plain, a great way off, a dog was barking + continuously. I moved forward a few paces and whistled. The glow of + adventure began to die away. There was nothing at all—a little + mystery of light on the tree-trunks. + </p> + <p> + I moved forward again, getting back towards the road. Against the glimmer + of dead light I thought I caught the outlines of a man’s hat down among + the tossing lines of the bracken. I whispered loudly: + </p> + <p> + “Carlos! Carlos!” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment of hoarse whispering; a sudden gruff sound. A shaft of + blazing yellow light darted from the level of the ground into my dazed + eyes. A man sprang at me and thrust something cold and knobby into my + neckcloth. The light continued to blaze into my eyes; it moved upwards and + shone on a red waistcoat dashed with gilt buttons. I was being + arrested.... “In the King’s name....” It was a most sudden catastrophe. A + hand was clutching my windpipe. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you so much as squeak, Mr. Castro,” a voice whispered in my ear. + </p> + <p> + The lanthorn light suddenly died out, and I heard whispers. + </p> + <p> + “Get him out on to the road.... I’ll tackle the other ... Darbies.... + Mind his knife.” + </p> + <p> + I was like a confounded rabbit in their hands. One of them had his fist on + my collar and jerked me out upon the hard road. We rolled down the + embankment, but he was on the top. It seemed an abominable episode, a + piece of bad faith on the part of fate. I ought to have been exempt from + these sordid haps, but the man’s hot leathery hand on my throat was like a + foretaste of the other collar. And I was horribly afraid—horribly—of + the sort of mysterious potency of the laws that these men represented, and + I could think of nothing to do. + </p> + <p> + We stood in a little slanting cutting in the shadow. A watery light before + the moon’s rising slanted downwards from the hilltop along the opposite + bank. We stood in utter silence. + </p> + <p> + “If you stir a hair,” my captor said coolly, “I’ll squeeze the blood out + of your throat, like a rotten orange.” + </p> + <p> + He had the calmness of one dealing with an everyday incident; yet the + incident was—it should have been—tremendous. We stood waiting + silently for an eternity, as one waits for a hare to break covert before + the beaters. From down the long hill came a small sound of horses’ hoofs—a + sound like the beating of the heart, intermittent—a muffled thud on + turf, and a faint clink of iron. It seemed to die away unheard by the + runner beside me. Presently there was a crackling of the short pine + branches, a rustle, and a hoarse whisper said from above: + </p> + <p> + “Other’s cleared, Thorns. Got that one safe?” + </p> + <p> + “All serene.” + </p> + <p> + The man from above dropped down into the road, a clumsy, cloaked figure. + He turned his lanthorn upon me, in a painful yellow glare. + </p> + <p> + “What! ’Tis the young ’un,” he grunted, after a moment. “Read the warrant, + Thorns.” + </p> + <p> + My captor began to fumble in his pocket, pulled out a paper, and bent down + into the light. Suddenly he paused and looked up at me. + </p> + <p> + “This ain’t——— Mr. Lilly white, I don’t believe this + ain’t a Jack Spaniard.” + </p> + <p> + The clinks of bits and stirrup-irons came down in a waft again. + </p> + <p> + “That be hanged for a tale, Thorns,” the man with the lanthorn said + sharply. “If this here ain’t Riego—or the other—I’ll ...” + </p> + <p> + I began to come out of my stupor. + </p> + <p> + “My name’s John Kemp,” I said. + </p> + <p> + The other grunted. “Hurry up, Thorns.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Lillywhite,” Thorns reasoned, “he don’t speak like a Dago. Split + me if he do! And we ain’t in a friendly country either, you know that. We + can’t afford to rile the gentry!” + </p> + <p> + I plucked up courage. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll get your heads broke,” I said, “if you wait much longer. Hark to + that!” + </p> + <p> + The approaching horses had turned off the turf on to the hard road; the + steps of first one and then another sounded out down the silent hill. I + knew it was the Free Traders from that; for except between banks they kept + to the soft roadsides as if it were an article of faith. The noise of + hoofs became that of an army. + </p> + <p> + The runners began to consult. The shadow called Thorns was for bolting + across country; but Lilly white was not built for speed. Besides he did + not know the lie of the land, and believed the Free Traders were mere + bogeys. + </p> + <p> + “They’ll never touch us,” Lillywhite grumbled. “We’ve a warrant... King’s + name....” He was flashing his lanthorn aimlessly up the hill. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” he began again, “we’ve got this gallus bird. If he’s not a + Spaniard, he knows all about them. I heard him. Kemp he may be, but he + spoke Spanish up there... and we’ve got something for our trouble. He’ll + swing, I’ll lay you a———” + </p> + <p> + From far above us came a shout, then a confused noise of voices. The moon + began to get up; above the cutting the clouds had a fringe of sudden + silver. A horseman, cloaked and muffled to the ears, trotted warily + towards us. + </p> + <p> + “What’s up?” he hailed from a matter of ten yards. “What are you showing + that glim for? Anything wrong below?” + </p> + <p> + The runners kept silence; we heard the click of a pistol lock. + </p> + <p> + “In the King’s name,” Lillywhite shouted, “get off that nag and lend a + hand! We’ve a prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + The horseman gave an incredulous whistle, and then began to shout, his + voice winding mournfully uphill, “Hallo! Hallo—o—o.” An echo + stole back, “Hallo! Hallo—o—o”; then a number of voices. The + horse stood, drooping its head, and the man turned in his saddle. + “Runners,” he shouted, “Bow Street runners! Come along, come along, boys! + We’ll roast ’em.... Runners! Runners!” + </p> + <p> + The sound of heavy horses at a jolting trot came to our ears. + </p> + <p> + “We’re in for it,” Lillywhite grunted. “D———n this + county of Kent.” + </p> + <p> + Thorns never loosed his hold of my collar. At the steep of the hill the + men and horses came into sight against the white sky, a confused crowd of + ominous things. + </p> + <p> + “Turn that lanthorn off’n me,” the horseman said. “Don’t you see you + frighten my horse? Now, boys, get round them....” + </p> + <p> + The great horses formed an irregular half-circle round us; men descended + clumsily, like sacks of corn. The lanthorn was seized and flashed upon us; + there was a confused hubbub. I caught my own name. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I’m Kemp... John Kemp,” I called. “I’m true blue.” + </p> + <p> + “Blue be hanged!” a voice shouted back. “What be you a-doing with + runners?” + </p> + <p> + The riot went on—forty or fifty voices. The runners were seized; + several hands caught at me. It was impossible to make myself heard; a fist + struck me on the cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Gibbet ’em,” somebody shrieked; “they hung my nephew! Gibbet ’em all the + three. Young Kemp’s mother’s a bad ’un. An informer he is. Up with ’em!” + </p> + <p> + I was pulled down on my knees, then thrust forward, and then left to + myself while they rushed to bonnet Lillywhite. I stumbled against a great, + quiet farm horse. + </p> + <p> + A continuous scuffling went on; an imperious voice cried: “Hold your + tongues, you fools! Hold your tongues!...” Someone else called: “Hear to + Jack Rangsley. Hear to him!” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence. I saw a hand light a torch at the lanthorn, and the + crowd of faces, the muddle of limbs, the horses’ heads, and the quiet + trees above, flickered into sight. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let them hang me, Jack Rangsley,” I sobbed. “You know I’m no spy. + Don’t let ’em hang me, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + He rode his horse up to me, and caught me by the collar. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue,” he said roughly. He began to make a set speech, + anathematizing runners. He moved to tie our feet, and hang us by our + finger-nails over the quarry edge. + </p> + <p> + A hubbub of assent and dissent went up; then the crowd became unanimous. + Rangsley slipped from his horse. + </p> + <p> + “Blindfold ’em, lads,” he cried, and turned me sharply round. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t struggle,” he whispered in my ear; his silk handkerchief came cool + across my eyelids. I felt hands fumbling with a knot at the back of my + head. “You’re all right,” he said again. The hubbub of voices ceased + suddenly. “Now, lads, bring ’em along.” + </p> + <p> + A voice I knew said their watchword, “Snuff and enough,” loudly, and then, + “What’s agate?” + </p> + <p> + Someone else answered, “It’s Rooksby, it’s Sir Ralph.” + </p> + <p> + The voice interrupted sharply, “No names, now. I don’t want hanging.” The + hand left my arm; there was a pause in the motion of the procession. I + caught a moment’s sound of whispering. Then a new voice cried, “Strip the + runners to the shirt. Strip ’em. That’s it.” I heard some groans and a + cry, “You won’t murder us.” Then a nasal drawl, “We will sure—<i>ly</i>.” + Someone else, Rangsley, I think, called, “Bring ’em along—this way + now.” + </p> + <p> + After a period of turmoil we seemed to come out of the crowd upon a very + rough, descending path; Rangsley had called out, “Now, then, the rest of + you be off; we’ve got enough here”; and the hoofs of heavy horses sounded + again. Then we came to a halt, and Rangsley called sharply from close to + me: + </p> + <p> + “Now, you runners—and you, John Kemp—here you be on the brink + of eternity, above the old quarry. There’s a sheer drop of a hundred feet. + We’ll tie your legs and hang you by your fingers. If you hang long enough, + you’ll have time to say your prayers. Look alive, lads!” + </p> + <p> + The voice of one of the runners began to shout, “You’ll swing for this—you———” + </p> + <p> + As for me I was in a dream. “Jack,” I said, “Jack, you won’t——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s all right,” the voice said in a whisper. “Mum, now! It’s all + <i>right</i>.” + </p> + <p> + It withdrew itself a little from my ear and called, “‘Now then, ready with + them. When I say three....” + </p> + <p> + I heard groans and curses, and began to shout for help. My voice came back + in an echo, despairingly. Suddenly I was dragged backward, and the bandage + pulled from my eyes, + </p> + <p> + “Come along,” Rangsley said, leading me gently enough to the road, which + was five steps behind. “It’s all a joke,” he snarled. “A pretty bad one + for those catchpolls. Hear ’em groan. The drop’s not two feet.” + </p> + <p> + We made a few paces down the road; the pitiful voices of the runners + crying for help came plainly to my ears. + </p> + <p> + “You—they—aren’t murdering them?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he answered. “Can’t afford to. Wish we could; but they’d make it + too hot for us.” + </p> + <p> + We began to descend the hill. From the quarry a voice shrieked: + </p> + <p> + “Help—help—for the love of God—I can’t....” + </p> + <p> + There was a grunt and the sound of a fall; then a precisely similar + sequence of sounds. + </p> + <p> + “That’ll teach ’em,” Rangsley said ferociously. “Come along—they’ve + only rolled down a bank. They weren’t over the quarry. It’s all right. I + swear it is.” + </p> + <p> + And, as a matter of fact, that was the smugglers’ ferocious idea of + humour. They would hang any undesirable man, like these runners, whom it + would make too great a stir to murder outright, over the edge of a low + bank, and swear to him that he was clawing the brink of Shakespeare’s + Cliff or any other hundred-foot drop. The wretched creatures suffered all + the tortures of death before they let go, and, as a rule, they never + returned to our parts. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER THREE + </h3> + <p> + The spirit of the age has changed; everything has changed so utterly that + one can hardly believe in the existence of one’s earlier self. But I can + still remember how, at that moment, I made the acquaintance of my heart—a + thing that bounded and leapt within my chest, a little sickeningly. The + other details I forget. + </p> + <p> + Jack Rangsley was a tall, big-boned, thin man, with something sinister in + the lines of his horseman’s cloak, and something reckless in the way he + set his spurred heel on the ground. He was the son of an old Marsh squire. + Old Rangsley had been head of the last of the Owlers—the aristocracy + of export smugglers—and Jack had sunk a little in becoming the head + of the Old Bourne Tap importers. But he was hard enough, tyrannical + enough, and had nerve enough to keep Free-trading alive in our parts until + long after it had become an anachronism. He ended his days on the gallows, + of course, but that was long afterwards. + </p> + <p> + “I’d give a dollar to know what’s going on in those runners’ heads,” + Rangsley said, pointing back with his crop. He laughed gayly. The great + white face of the quarry rose up pale in the moonlight; the dusky red + fires of the limekilns glowed at the base, sending up a blood-red dust of + sullen smoke. “I’ll swear they think they’ve dropped straight into hell. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have to cut the country, John,” he added suddenly, “they’ll have + got your name uncommon pat. I did my best for you.” He had had me tied up + like that before the runners’ eyes in order to take their suspicions off + me. He had made a pretence to murder me with the same idea. But he didn’t + believe they were taken in. “There’ll be warrants out before morning, if + they ain’t too shaken. But what were you doing in the business? The two + Spaniards were lying in the fern looking on when you come blundering your + clumsy nose in. If it hadn’t been for Rooksby you might have——— + Hullo, there!” he broke off. + </p> + <p> + An answer came from the black shadow of a clump of roadside elms. I made + out the forms of three or four horses standing with their heads together. + </p> + <p> + “Come along,” Rangsley said; “up with you. We’ll talk as we go.” + </p> + <p> + Someone helped me into a saddle; my legs trembled in the stirrups as if I + had ridden a thousand miles on end already. I imagine I must have fallen + into a stupor; for I have only a vague impression of somebody’s + exculpating himself to me. As a matter of fact, Ralph, after having egged + me on, in the intention of staying at home, had had qualms of conscience, + and had come to the quarry. It was he who had cried the watchword, “Snuff + and enough,” and who had held the whispered consultation. Carlos and + Castro had waited in their hiding-place, having been spectators of the + arrival of the runners and of my capture. I gathered this long afterwards. + At that moment I was conscious only of the motion of the horse beneath me, + of intense weariness, and of the voice of Ralph, who was lamenting his own + cowardice. + </p> + <p> + “If it had come at any other time!” he kept on repeating. “But now, with + Veronica to think of!——— You take me, Johnny, don’t + you?” + </p> + <p> + My companions rode silently. After we had passed the houses of a little + village a heavy mist fell upon us, white, damp, and clogging. Ralph reined + his horse beside mine. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry,” he began again, “I’m miserably sorry I got you into this + scrape. I swear I wouldn’t have had it happen, not for a thousand pounds—not + for ten.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn’t matter,” I said cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but,” Rooksby said, “you’ll have to leave the country for a time. + Until I can arrange. I will. You can trust me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he’ll have to leave the country, for sure,” Rangsley said jovially, + “if he wants to live it down. There’s five-and-forty warrants out against + me—but they dursent serve ’em. But he’s not me.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a miserable business,” Ralph said. He had an air of the profoundest + dejection. In the misty light he looked like a man mortally wounded, + riding from a battle-field. + </p> + <p> + “Let him come with us,” the musical voice of Carlos came through the mist + in front of us. “He shall see the world a little.” + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake hold your tongue!” Ralph answered him. “There’s mischief + enough. He shall go to France.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, let the young blade rip about the world for a year or two, squire,” + Rangsley’s voice said from behind us. + </p> + <p> + In the end Ralph let me go with Carlos—actually across the sea, and + to the West Indies. I begged and implored him; it seemed that now there + was a chance for me to find my world of romance. And Ralph, who, though + one of the most law-respecting of men, was not for the moment one of the + most valorous, was wild to wash his hands of the whole business. He did + his best for me; he borrowed a goodly number of guineas from Rangsley, who + travelled with a bag of them at his saddle-bow, ready to pay his men their + seven shillings a head for the run. + </p> + <p> + Ralph remembered, too—or I remembered for him—that he had + estates and an agent in Jamaica, and he turned into the big inn at the + junction of the London road to write a letter to his agent bidding him + house me and employ me as an improver. For fear of compromising him we + waited in the shadow of trees a furlong or two down the road. He came at a + trot, gave me the letter, drew me aside, and began upbraiding himself + again. The others rode onwards. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s all right,” I said. “It’s fine—it’s fine. I’d have given + fifty guineas for this chance this morning—and, Ralph, I say, you + may tell Veronica why I’m going, but keep a shut mouth to my mother. Let + her think I’ve run away—eh? Don’t spoil your chance.” + </p> + <p> + He was in such a state of repentance and flutter that he could not let me + take a decent farewell. The sound of the others’ horses had long died away + down the hill when he began to tell me what he ought to have done. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it at once after I’d let you go. I ought to have kept you out of + it. You came near being murdered. And to think of it—you, her + brother—to be———” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s all right,” I said gayly, “it’s all right. You’ve to stand by + Veronica. I’ve no one to my back. Good-night, good-by.” + </p> + <p> + I pulled my horse’s head round and galloped down the hill. The main body + had halted before setting out over the shingle to the shore. Rangsley was + waiting to conduct us into the town, where we should find a man to take us + three fugitives out to the expected ship. We rode clattering aggressively + through the silence of the long, narrow main street. Every now and then + Carlos Riego coughed lamentably, but Tomas Castro rode in gloomy silence. + There was a light here and there in a window, but not a soul stirring + abroad. On the blind of an inn the shadow of a bearded man held the shadow + of a rummer to its mouth. + </p> + <p> + “That’ll be my uncle,” Rangsley said. “He’ll be the man to do your + errand.” He called to one of the men behind. “Here, Joe Pilcher, do you go + into the White Hart and drag my Uncle Tom out. Bring ’un up to me—to + the nest.” + </p> + <p> + Three doors further on we came to a halt, and got down from our horses. + </p> + <p> + Rangsley knocked on a shutter-panel, two hard knocks with the crop and + three with the naked fist. Then a lock clicked, heavy bars rumbled, and a + chain rattled. Rangsley pushed me through the doorway. A side door opened, + and I saw into a lighted room filled with wreaths of smoke. A paunchy man + in a bob wig, with a blue coat and Windsor buttons, holding a churchwarden + pipe in his right hand and a pewter quart in his left, came towards us. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, captain,” he said, “you’ll be too late with the lights, won’t + you?” He had a deprecatory air. + </p> + <p> + “Your watch is fast, Mr. Mayor,” Rangsley answered surlily; “the tide + won’t serve for half an hour yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Cht, cht,” the other wheezed. “No offence. We respect you. But still, + when one has a stake, one likes to know.” + </p> + <p> + “My stake’s all I have, and my neck,” Rangsley said impatiently; “what’s + yours? A matter of fifty pun ten?... Why don’t you make them bring they + lanthorns?” + </p> + <p> + A couple of dark lanthorns were passed to Rangsley, who half-uncovered + one, and lit the way up steep wooden stairs. We climbed up to a tiny + cock-loft, of which the side towards the sea was all glazed. + </p> + <p> + “Now you sit there, on the floor,” Rangsley commanded; “can’t leave you + below; the runners will be coming to the mayor for new warrants to-morrow, + and he’d not like to have spent the night in your company.” + </p> + <p> + He threw a casement open. The moon was hidden from us by clouds, but, a + long way off, over the distant sea, there was an irregular patch of silver + light, against which the chimneys of the opposite houses were silhouetted. + The church clock began muffledly to chime the quarters behind us; then the + hour struck—ten strokes. + </p> + <p> + Rangsley set one of his lanthorns on the window and twisted the top. He + sent beams of yellow light shooting out to seawards. His hands quivered, + and he was mumbling to himself under the influence of ungovernable + excitement. His stakes were very large, and all depended on the flicker of + those lanthorns out towards the men on the luggers that were hidden in the + black expanse of the sea. Then he waited, and against the light of the + window I could see him mopping his forehead with the sleeve of his coat; + my heart began to beat softly and insistently—out of sympathy. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, from the deep shadow of the cloud above the sea, a yellow light + flashed silently cut—very small, very distant, very short-lived. + Rangsley heaved a deep sigh and slapped me heavily on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “All serene, my buck,” he said; “now let’s see after you. I’ve half an + hour. What’s the ship?” + </p> + <p> + I was at a loss, but Carlos said out of the darkness, “The ship the <i>Thames</i>. + My friend Señor Ortiz, of the Minories, said you would know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know, I know,” Rangsley said softly; and, indeed, he did know all + that was to be known about smuggling out of the southern counties of + people who could no longer inhabit them. The trade was a survival of the + days of Jacobite plots. “And it’s a hanging job, too. But it’s no affair + of mine.” He stopped and reflected for an instant. + </p> + <p> + I could feel Carlos’ eyes upon us, looking out of the thick darkness. A + slight rustling came from the corner that hid Castro. + </p> + <p> + “She passes down channel to-night, then?” Rangsley said. “With this wind + you’ll want to be well out in the Bay at a quarter after eleven.” + </p> + <p> + An abnormal scuffling, intermingled with snatches of jovial remonstrance, + made itself heard from the bottom of the ladder. A voice called up through + the hatch, “Here’s your uncle, Squahre Jack,” and a husky murmur + corroborated. + </p> + <p> + “Be you drunk again, you old sinner?” Rangsley asked. “Listen to me.... + Here’s three men to be set aboard the <i>Thames</i> at a quarter after + eleven.” + </p> + <p> + A grunt came in reply. + </p> + <p> + Rangsley repeated slowly. + </p> + <p> + The grunt answered again. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s three men to be set aboard the <i>Thames</i> at a quarter after + eleven....” Rangsley said again. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s... a-cop... three men to be set aboard <i>Thames</i> at quarter + after eleven,” a voice hiccoughed back to us. + </p> + <p> + “Well, see you do it,” Rangsley said. “He’s as drunk as a king,” he + commented to us; “but when you’ve said a thing three times, he remembers—hark + to him.” + </p> + <p> + The drunken voice from below kept up a constant babble of, “Three men to + be set aboard <i>Thames</i>... three men to be set ...” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll not stop saying that till he has you safe aboard,” Rangsley said. + He showed a glimmer of light down the ladder—Carlos and Castro + descended. I caught sight below me of the silver head and the deep red + ears of the drunken uncle of Rangsley. He had been one of the most + redoubtable of the family, a man of immense strength and cunning, but a + confirmed habit of consuming a pint and a half of gin a night had made him + disinclined for the more arduous tasks of the trade. He limited his + energies to working the underground passage, to the success of which his + fox-like cunning, and intimate knowledge of the passing shipping, were + indispensable. I was preparing to follow the others down the ladder when + Rangsley touched my arm. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like your company,” he said close behind my ear. “I know who they + are. There were bills out for them this morning. I’d blow them, and take + the reward, but for you and Squahre Rooksby. They’re handy with their + knives, too, I fancy. You mind me, and look to yourself with them. There’s + something unnatural.” + </p> + <p> + His words had a certain effect upon me, and his manner perhaps more. A + thing that was “unnatural” to Jack Rangsley—the man of darkness, who + lived forever as if in the shadow of the gallows—was a thing to be + avoided. He was for me nearly as romantic a figure as Carlos himself, but + for his forbidding darkness, and he was a person of immense power. The + silent flittings of lights that I had just seen, the answering signals + from the luggers far out to sea, the enforced sleep of the towns and + countryside whilst his plans were working out at night, had impressed me + with a sense of awe. And his words sank into my spirit, and made me afraid + for my future. + </p> + <p> + We followed the others downwards into a ground-floor room that was fitted + up as a barber’s shop. A rushlight was burning on a table. Rangsley took + hold of a piece of wainscotting, part of the frame of a panel; he pulled + it towards him, and, at the same moment, a glazed show-case full of razors + and brushes swung noiselessly forward with an effect of the supernatural. + A small opening, just big enough to take a man’s body, revealed itself. We + passed through it and up a sort of tunnel. The door at the other end, + which was formed of panels, had a manger and straw crib attached to it on + the outside, and let us into a horse’s stall. We found ourselves in the + stable of the inn. + </p> + <p> + “We don’t use this passage for ourselves,” Rangsley said. “Only the most + looked up to need to—the justices and such like. But gallus birds + like you and your company, it’s best for us not to be seen in company + with. Follow my uncle now. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + We went into the yard, under the pillars of the town hall, across the + silent street, through a narrow passage, and down to the sea. Old Rangsley + reeled ahead of us swiftly, muttering, “Three men to be set aboard the <i>Thames</i>... + quarter past eleven. Three men to be set aboard...” and in a few minutes + we stood upon the shingle beside the idle sea, that was nearly at the + full. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h3> + <p> + It was, I suppose, what I demanded of Fate—to be gently wafted into + the position of a hero of romance, without rough hands at my throat. It is + what we all ask, I suppose; and we get it sometimes in ten-minute + snatches. I didn’t know where I was going. It was enough for me to sail in + and out of the patches of shadow that fell from the moon right above our + heads. + </p> + <p> + We embarked, and, as we drew further out, the land turned to a shadow, + spotted here and there with little lights. Behind us a cock crowed. The + shingle crashed at intervals beneath the feet of a large body of men. I + remembered the smugglers; but it was as if I had remembered them only to + forget them forever. Old Rangsley, who steered with the sheet in his hand, + kept up an unintelligible babble. Carlos and Castro talked under their + breaths. Along the gunwale there was a constant ripple and gurgle. + Suddenly old Rangsley began to sing; his voice was hoarse and drunken. + </p> +<p class="poetry"> + “When Harol’ war in va—a—ded, + An’ fallin’, lost his crownd, + An’ Normun Willium wa—a—ded.” + </p> + <p> + The water murmured without a pause, as if it had a million tiny facts to + communicate in very little time. And then old Rangsley hove to, to wait + for the ship, and sat half asleep, lurching over the tiller. He was a + very, unreliable scoundrel. The boat leaked like a sieve. The wind + freshened, and we three began to ask ourselves how it was going to end. + There were no lights upon the sea. + </p> + <p> + At last, well out, a blue gleam caught our eyes; but by this time old + Rangsley was helpless, and it fell to me to manage the boat. Carlos was of + no use—he knew it, and, without saying a word, busied himself in + bailing the water out. But Castro, I was surprised to notice, knew more + than I did about a boat, and, maimed as he was, made himself useful. + </p> + <p> + “To me it looks as if we should drown,” Carlos said at one point, very + quietly. “I am sorry for you, Juan.” + </p> + <p> + “And for yourself, too,” I answered, feeling very hopeless, and with a + dogged grimness. + </p> + <p> + “Just now, my young cousin, I feel as if I should not mind dying under the + water,” he remarked with a sigh, but without ceasing to bail for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are sorry to be leaving home, and your friends, and Spain, and + your fine adventures,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + The blue flare showed a very little nearer. There was nothing to be done + but talk and wait. + </p> + <p> + “No; England,” he answered in a tone full of meaning—“things in + England—people there. One person at least.” + </p> + <p> + To me his words and his smile seemed to imply a bitter irony; but they + were said very earnestly. + </p> + <p> + Castro had hauled the helpless form of old Rangsley forward. I caught him + muttering savagely: + </p> + <p> + “I could kill that old man!” + </p> + <p> + He did not want to be drowned; neither assuredly did I. But it was not + fear so much as a feeling of dreariness and disappointment that had come + over me, the sudden feeling that I was going not to adventure, but to + death; that here was not romance, but an end—a disenchanted surprise + that it should soon be all over. + </p> + <p> + We kept a grim silence. Further out in the bay, we were caught in a heavy + squall. Sitting by the tiller, I got as much out of her as I knew how. We + would go as far as we could before the run was over. Carlos bailed + unceasingly, and without a word of complaint, sticking to his + self-appointed task as if in very truth he were careless of life. A + feeling came over me that this, indeed, was the elevated and the romantic. + Perhaps he was tired of his life; perhaps he really regretted what he left + behind him in England, or somewhere else—some association, some + woman. But he, at least, if we went down together, would go gallantly, and + without complaint, at the end of a life with associations, movements, + having lived and regretted. I should disappear in-gloriously on the very + threshold. + </p> + <p> + Castro, standing up unsteadily, growled, “We may do it yet! See, señor!” + </p> + <p> + The blue gleam was much larger—it flared smokily up towards the sky. + I made out ghastly parallelograms of a ship’s sails high above us, and at + last many faces peering unseeingly over the rail in our direction. We all + shouted together. + </p> + <p> + I may say that it was thanks to me that we reached the ship. Our boat went + down under us whilst I was tying a rope under Carlos’ arms. He was + standing up with the baler still in his hand. On board, the women + passengers were screaming, and as I clung desperately to the rope that was + thrown me, it struck me oddly that I had never before heard so many + women’s voices at the same time. Afterwards, when I stood on the deck, + they began laughing at old Rangsley, who held forth in a thunderous voice, + punctuated by hiccoughs: + </p> + <p> + “They carried I aboard—a cop—theer lugger and sinks I in the + cold, co—old sea.” + </p> + <p> + It mortified me excessively that I should be tacked to his tail and + exhibited to a number of people, and I had a sudden conviction of my small + importance. I had expected something altogether different—an + audience sympathetically interested in my desire for a passage to the West + Indies; instead of which people laughed while I spoke in panting jerks, + and the water dripped out of my clothes. After I had made it clear that I + wanted to go with Carlos, and could pay for my passage, I was handed down + into the steerage, where a tallow candle burnt in a thick, blue + atmosphere. I was stripped and filled with some fiery liquid, and fell + asleep. Old Rangsley was sent ashore with the pilot. + </p> + <p> + It was a new and strange life to me, opening there suddenly enough. The <i>Thames</i> + was one of the usual West Indiamen; but to me even the very ropes and + spars, the sea, and the unbroken dome of the sky, had a rich strangeness. + Time passed lazily and gliding. I made more fully the acquaintance of my + companions, but seemed to know them no better. I lived with Carlos in the + cabin—Castro in the half-deck; but we were all three pretty + constantly together, and they being the only Spaniards on board, we were + more or less isolated from the other passengers. + </p> + <p> + Looking at my companions at times, I had vague misgivings. It was as if + these two had fascinated me to the verge of some danger. Sometimes Castro, + looking up, uttered vague ejaculations. Carlos pushed his hat back and + sighed. They had preoccupations, cares, interests in which they let me + have no part. + </p> + <p> + Castro struck me as absolutely ruffianly. His head was knotted in a red, + white-spotted handkerchief; his grizzled beard was tangled; he wore a + black and rusty cloak, ragged at the edges, and his feet were often bare; + at his side would lie his wooden right hand. As a rule, the place of his + forearm was taken by a long, thin, steel blade, that he was forever + sharpening. + </p> + <p> + Carlos talked with me, telling me about his former life and his + adventures. The other passengers he discountenanced by a certain coldness + of manner that made me ashamed of talking to them. I respected him so; he + was so wonderful to me then. Castro I detested; but I accepted their + relationship without in the least understanding how Carlos, with his fine + grain, his high soul—I gave him credit for a high soul—could + put up with the squalid ferocity with which I credited Castro. It seemed + to hang in the air round the grotesque ragged-ness of the saturnine brown + man. + </p> + <p> + Carlos had made Spain too hot to hold him in those tortuous intrigues of + the Army of the Faith and Bourbon troops and Italian legions. From what I + could understand, he must have played fast and loose in an insolent + manner. And there was some woman offended. There was a gayness and + gallantry in that part of it. He had known the very spirit of romance, and + now he was sailing gallantly out to take up his inheritance from an uncle + who was a great noble, owning the greater part of one of the Intendencias + of Cuba. + </p> + <p> + “He is a very old man, I hear,” Carlos said—“a little doting, and + having need of me.” + </p> + <p> + There were all the elements of romance about Carlos’ story—except + the actual discomforts of the ship in which we were sailing. He himself + had never been in Cuba or seen his uncle; but he had, as I have indicated, + ruined himself in one way or another in Spain, and it had come as a + God-send to him when his uncle had sent Tomas Castro to bring him to Cuba, + to the town of Rio Medio. + </p> + <p> + “The town belongs to my uncle. He is very rich; a Grand d’Espagne ... + everything; but he is now very old, and has left Havana to die in his + palace in his own town. He has an only daughter, a Dona Seraphina, and I + suppose that if I find favour in his eyes I shall marry her, and inherit + my uncle’s great riches; I am the only one that is left of the family to + inherit.” He waved his hand and smiled a little. “<i>Vaya</i>; a little of + that great wealth would be welcome. If I had had a few pence more there + would have been none of this worry, and I should not have been on this + dirty ship in these rags.” He looked down good-humouredly at his clothes. + </p> + <p> + “But,” I said, “how do you come to be in a scrape at all?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed a little proudly. + </p> + <p> + “In a scrape?” he said. “I... I am in none. It is Tomas Castro there.” He + laughed affectionately. “He is as faithful as he is ugly,” he said; “but I + fear he has been a villain, too.... What do I know? Over there in my + uncle’s town, there are some villains—you know what I mean, one must + not speak too loudly on this ship. There is a man called O’Brien, who + mismanages my uncle’s affairs. What do I know? The good Tomas has been in + some villainy that is no affair of mine. He is a good friend and a + faithful dependent of my family’s. He certainly had that man’s watch—the + man we met by evil chance at Liverpool, a man who came from Jamaica. He + had bought it—of a bad man, perhaps, I do not ask. It was Castro + your police wished to take. But I, <i>bon Dieu</i>, do you think I would + take watches?” + </p> + <p> + I certainly did not think he had taken a watch; but I did not relinquish + the idea that he, in a glamorous, romantic way, had been a pirate. Rooksby + had certainly hinted as much in his irritation. + </p> + <p> + He lost none of his romantic charm in my eyes. The fact that he was + sailing in uncomfortable circumstances detracted little; nor did his + clothes, which, at the worst, were better than any I had ever had. And he + wore them with an air and a grace. He had probably been in worse + circumstances when campaigning with the Army of the Faith in Spain. And + there was certainly the uncle with the romantic title and the great + inheritance, and the cousin—the Miss Seraphina, whom he would + probably marry. I imagined him an aristocratic scapegrace, a corsair—it + was the Byronic period then—sailing out to marry a sort of + shimmering princess with hair like Veronica’s, bright golden, and a face + like that of a certain keeper’s daughter. Carlos, however, knew nothing + about his cousin; he cared little more, as far as I could tell. “What can + she be to me since I have seen your...?” he said once, and then stopped, + looking at me with a certain tender irony. He insisted, though, that his + aged uncle was in need of him. As for Castro—he and his rags came + out of a life of sturt and strife, and I hoped he might die by treachery. + He had undoubtedly been sent by the uncle across the seas to find Carlos + and bring him out of Europe; there was-something romantic in that mission. + He was now a dependent of the Riego family, but there were unfathomable + depths in that tubby little man’s past. That he had gone to Russia at the + tail of the Grande Armée, one could not help believing. He had been most + likely in the grand army of sutlers and camp-followers. He could talk + convincingly of the cold, and of the snows and his escape. And from his + allusions one could get glimpses of what he had been before and afterwards—apparently + everything that was questionable in a secularly disturbed Europe; no doubt + somewhat of a bandit; a guerrillero in the sixes and sevens; with the Army + of the Faith near the French border, later on. + </p> + <p> + There had been room and to spare for that sort of pike, in the muddy + waters, during the first years of the century. But the waters were + clearing, and now the good Castro had been dodging the gallows in the + Antilles or in Mexico. In his heroic moods he would swear that his arm had + been cut off at Somo Sierra; swear it with a great deal of asseveration, + making one see the Polish lancers charging the gunners, being cut down, + and his own sword arm falling suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Carlos, however, used to declare with affectionate cynicism that the arm + had been broken by the cudgel of a Polish peasant while Castro was trying + to filch a pig from a stable.... “I cut his throat out, though,” Castro + would grumble darkly; “so, like that, and it matters very little—it + is even an improvement. See, I put on my blade. See, I transfix you that + fly there.... See how astonished he was. He did never expect that.” He had + actually impaled a crawling cockroach. He spent his days cooking + extraordinary messes, crouching for hours over a little charcoal brazier + that he lit surreptitiously in the back of his bunk, making substitutes + for eternal <i>gaspachos</i>. + </p> + <p> + All these things, if they deepened the romance of Carlos’ career, + enhanced, also, the mystery. I asked him one day, “But why do you go to + Jamaica at all if you are bound for Cuba?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me, smiling a little mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Juan mio,” he said, “Spain is not like your England, unchanging and + stable. The party who reign to-day do not love me, and they are masters in + Cuba as in Spain. But in his province my uncle rules alone. There I shall + be safe.” He was condescending to roll some cigarettes for Tomas, whose + wooden hand incommoded him, and he tossed a fragment of tobacco to the + wind with a laugh. “In Jamaica there is a merchant, a Señor Ramon; I have + letters to him, and he shall find me a conveyance to Rio Medio, my uncle’s + town. He is an <i>afiliado</i>.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed again. “It is not easy to enter that place, Juanino.” + </p> + <p> + There was certainly some mystery about that town of his uncle’s. One night + I overheard him say to Castro: + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, O my Tomas, would it be safe to take this <i>caballero</i>, my + cousin, to Rio Medio?” + </p> + <p> + Castro paused, and then murmured gruffly: + </p> + <p> + “Señor, unless that Irishman is consulted beforehand, or the English lord + would undertake to join with the picaroons, it is very assuredly not + safe.” + </p> + <p> + Carlos made a little exclamation of mild astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Pero?</i> Is it so bad as that in my uncle’s own town?” + </p> + <p> + Tomas muttered something that I did not catch, and then: + </p> + <p> + “If the English <i>caballero</i> committed indiscretions, or quarrelled—and + all these people quarrel, why, God knows—that Irish devil could hang + many persons, even myself, or take vengeance on your worship.” + </p> + <p> + Carlos was silent as if in a reverie. At last he said: + </p> + <p> + “But if affairs are like this, it would be well to have one more with us. + The <i>caballero</i>, my cousin, is very strong and of great courage.” + </p> + <p> + Castro grunted, “Oh, of a courage! But as the proverb says, ‘If you set an + Englishman by a hornets’ nest they shall not remain long within.”: + </p> + <p> + After that I avoided any allusion to Cuba, because the thing, think as I + would about it, would not grow clear. It was plain that something illegal + was going on there, or how could “that Irish devil,” whoever he was, have + power to hang Tomas and be revenged on Carlos? It did not affect my love + for Carlos, though, in the weariness of this mystery, the passage seemed + to drag a little. And it was obvious enough that Carlos was unwilling or + unable to tell anything about what pre-, occupied him. + </p> + <p> + I had noticed an intimacy spring up between the ship’s second mate and + Tomas, who was, it seemed to me, forever engaged in long confabulations in + the man’s cabin, and, as much to make talk as for any other reason, I + asked Carlos if he had noticed his dependent’s familiarity. It was + noticeable because Castro held aloof from every other soul on board. + Carlos answered me with one of his nervous and angry smiles. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Juan mine, do not ask too many questions! I wish you could come with + me all the way, but I cannot tell you all I know. I do not even myself + know all. It seems that the man is going to leave the ship in Jamaica, and + has letters for that Señor Ramon, the merchant, even as I have. <i>Vaya</i>; + more I cannot tell you.” + </p> + <p> + This struck me as curious, and a little of the whole mystery seemed from + that time to attach to the second mate, who before had been no more to me + than a long, sallow Nova Scotian, with a disagreeable intonation and + rather offensive manners. I began to watch him, desultorily, and was + rather startled by something more than a suspicion that he himself was + watching me. On one occasion in particular I seemed to observe this. The + second mate was lankily stalking the deck, his hands in his pockets. As he + paused in his walk to spit into the sea beside me, Carlos said: + </p> + <p> + “And you, my Juan, what will you do in this Jamaica?” + </p> + <p> + The sense that we were approaching land was already all over the ship. The + second mate leered at me enigmatically, and moved slowly away. I said that + I was going to the Horton Estates, Rooksby’s, to learn planting under a + Mr. Macdonald, the agent. Carlos shrugged his shoulders. I suppose I had + spoken with some animation. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” he said, with his air of great wisdom and varied experience, of + disillusionment, “it will be much the same as it has been at your home—after + the first days. Hard work and a great sameness.” He began to cough + violently. + </p> + <p> + I said bitterly enough, “Yes. It will be always the same with me. I shall + never see life. You’ve seen all that there is to see, so I suppose you do + not mind settling down with an old uncle in a palace.” + </p> + <p> + He answered suddenly, with a certain darkness of manner, “That is as God + wills. Who knows? Perhaps life, even in my uncle’s palace, will not be so + safe.” + </p> + <p> + The second mate was bearing down on us again. + </p> + <p> + I said jocularly, “Why, when I get very tired of life at Horton Pen, I + shall come to see you in your uncle’s town.” + </p> + <p> + Carlos had another of his fits of coughing. + </p> + <p> + “After all, we are kinsmen. I dare say you would give me a bed,” I went + on. + </p> + <p> + The second mate was quite close to us then. + </p> + <p> + Carlos looked at me with an expression of affection that a little shamed + my lightness of tone: + </p> + <p> + “I love you much more than a kinsman, Juan,” he said. “I wish you could + come with me. I try to arrange it. Later, perhaps, I may be dead. I am + very ill.” + </p> + <p> + He was undoubtedly ill. Campaigning in Spain, exposure in England in a + rainy time, and then the ducking when we came on board, had done him no + good. He looked moodily at the sea. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you could come. I will try———” + </p> + <p> + The mate had paused, and was listening quite unaffectedly, behind Carlos’ + back. + </p> + <p> + A moment after Carlos half turned and regarded him with a haughty stare. + </p> + <p> + He whistled and walked away. + </p> + <p> + Carlos muttered something that I did not catch about “spies of that + pestilent Irishman.” Then: + </p> + <p> + “I will not selfishly take you into any more dangers,” he said. “But life + on a sugar plantation is not fit for you.” + </p> + <p> + I felt glad and flattered that a personage so romantic should deem me a + fit companion for himself. He went forward as if with some purpose. + </p> + <p> + Some days afterwards the second mate sent for me to his cabin. He had been + on the sick list, and he was lying in his bunk, stripped to the waist, one + arm and one leg touching the floor. He raised himself slowly when I came + in, and spat. He had in a pronounced degree the Nova Scotian peculiarities + and accent, and after he had shaved, his face shone like polished leather. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” he said. “See heeyur, young Kemp, does your neck just <i>itch</i> + to be stretched?” + </p> + <p> + I looked at him with mouth and eyes agape. + </p> + <p> + He spat again, and waved a claw towards the forward bulkhead. + </p> + <p> + “They’ll do it for yeh,” he said. “You’re such a green goose, it makes me + sick a bit. You hevn’t reckoned out the chances, not quite. It’s a kind of + dead reckoning yeh hevn’t had call to make. Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” I asked, bewildered. + </p> + <p> + He looked at me, grinning, half naked, with amused contempt, for quite a + long time, and at last offered sardonically to open my eyes for me. + </p> + <p> + I said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what will happen to you,” he asked, “ef yeh don’t get quit of + that Carlos of yours?” + </p> + <p> + I was surprised into muttering that I didn’t know. + </p> + <p> + “I can tell yeh,” he continued. “Yeh will get hanged.” + </p> + <p> + By that time I was too amazed to get angry. I simply suspected the Blue + Nose of being drunk. But he glared at me so soberly that next moment I + felt frightened. + </p> + <p> + “Hanged by the neck,” he repeated; and then added, “Young fellow, you + scoot. Take a fool’s advice, and <i>scoot</i>. That Castro is a blame + fool, anyhow. Yeh want men for that job. Men, I tell you.” He slapped his + bony breast. + </p> + <p> + I had no idea that he could look so ferocious. His eyes fascinated me, and + he opened his cavernous mouth as if to swallow me. His lantern jaws + snapped without a sound. He seemed to change his mind. + </p> + <p> + “I am done with yeh,” he said, with a sort of sinister restraint. He rose + to his feet, and, turning his back to me, began to shave, squinting into a + broken looking-glass. + </p> + <p> + I had not the slightest inkling of his meaning. I only knew that going out + of his berth was like escaping from the dark lair of a beast into a sunlit + world. There is no denying that his words, and still more his manner, had + awakened in me a sense of insecurity that had no precise object, for it + was manifestly absurd and impossible to suspect my friend Carlos. + Moreover, hanging was a danger so recondite, and an eventuality so + extravagant, as to make the whole thing ridiculous. And yet I remembered + how unhappy I felt, how inexplicably unhappy. Presently the reason was + made clear. I was homesick. I gave no further thought to the second mate. + I looked at the harbour we were entering, and thought of the home I had + left so eagerly. After all, I was no more than a boy, and even younger in + mind than in body. + </p> + <p> + Queer-looking boats crawled between the shores like tiny water beetles. + One headed out towards us, then another. I did not want them to reach us. + It was as if I did not wish my solitude to be disturbed, and I was not + pleased with the idea of going ashore. A great ship, floating high on the + water, black and girt with the two broad yellow streaks of her double tier + of guns, glided out slowly from beyond a cluster of shipping in the bay. + She passed without a hail, going out under her topsails with a flag at the + fore. Her lofty spars overtopped our masts immensely, and I saw the men in + her rigging looking down on our decks. The only sounds that came out of + her were the piping of boatswain’s calls and the tramping of feet. + Imagining her to be going home, I felt a great desire to be on board. + Ultimately, as it turned out, I went home in that very ship, but then it + was too late. I was another man by that time, with much queer knowledge + and other desires. Whilst I was looking and longing I heard Carlos’ voice + behind me asking one of our sailors what ship it was. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know a flagship when you see it?” a voice grumbled surlily. + “Admiral Rowley’s,” it continued. Then it rumbled out some remarks about + “pirates, vermin, coast of Cuba.” + </p> + <p> + Carlos came to the side, and looked after the man-of-war in the distance. + </p> + <p> + “<i>You</i> could help us,” I heard him mutter. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h3> + <p> + There was a lad called Barnes, a steerage passenger of about my own age, a + raw, red-headed Northumbrian yokel, going out as a recruit to one of the + West Indian regiments. He was a serious, strenuous youth, and I had talked + a little with him at odd moments. In my great loneliness I went to say + good-by to him after I had definitely parted with Carlos. + </p> + <p> + I had been in our cabin. A great bustle of shore-going, of leave-taking + had sprung up all over the ship. Carlos and Castro had entered with a + tall, immobile, gold-spectacled Spaniard, dressed all in white, and with a + certain air of noticing and attentive deference, bowing a little as he + entered the cabin in earnest conference with Tomas Castro. Carlos had + preceded them with a certain nonchalance, and the Spaniard—it was + the Señor Ramon, the merchant I had heard of—regarded him as if with + interested curiosity. With Tomas he seemed already familiar. He stood in + the doorway, against the strong light, bowing a little. + </p> + <p> + With a certain courtesy, touched with indifference, Carlos made him + acquainted with me. Ramon turned his searching, quietly analytic gaze upon + me. + </p> + <p> + “But is the <i>caballero</i> going over, too?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Carlos said, “No. I think not, now.” + </p> + <p> + And at that moment the second mate, shouldering his way through a + white-clothed crowd of shore people, made up behind Señor Ramon. He held a + letter in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am going over,” he said, in his high nasal voice, and with a certain + ferocity. + </p> + <p> + Ramon looked round apprehensively. + </p> + <p> + Carlos said, “The señor, my cousin, wishes for a Mr. Macdonald. You know + him, senor?” + </p> + <p> + Ramon made a dry gesture of perfect acquaintance. “I think I have seen him + just now,” he said. “I will make inquiries.” + </p> + <p> + All three of them had followed him, and became lost in the crowd. It was + then, not knowing whether I should ever see Carlos again, and with a + desperate, unhappy feeling of loneliness, that I had sought out Barnes in + the dim immensity of the steerage. + </p> + <p> + In the square of wan light that came down the scuttle he was cording his + hair-trunk—unemotional and very matter-of-fact. He began to talk in + an everyday voice about his plans. An uncle was going to meet him, and to + house him for a day or two before he went to the barracks. + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe we’ll meet again,” he said. “I’ll be here many years, I think.” + </p> + <p> + He shouldered his trunk and climbed unromantically up the ladder. He said + he would look for Macdonald for me. + </p> + <p> + It was absurd to suppose that the strange ravings of the second mate had + had an effect on me. “Hanged! Pirates!” Was Carlos really a pirate, or + Castro, his humble friend? It was vile of me to suspect Carlos. A couple + of men, meeting by the scuttle, began to talk loudly, every word coming + plainly to my ears in the stillness of my misery, and the large deserted + steerage. One of them, new from home, was asking questions. Another + answered: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I lost half a seroon the last voyage—the old thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t they routed out the scoundrels yet?” the other asked. + </p> + <p> + The first man lowered his voice. I caught only that “the admiral was an + old fool—no good for this job. He’s found out the name of the place + the pirates come from—Rio Medio. That’s the place, only he can’t get + in at it with his three-deckers. You saw his flagship?” + </p> + <p> + Rio Medio was the name of the town to which Carlos was going—which + his uncle owned. They moved away from above. + </p> + <p> + What was I to believe? What could this mean? But the second mate’s, + “Scoot, young man,” seemed to come to my ears like the blast of a trumpet. + I became suddenly intensely anxious to find Macdonald—to see no more + of Carlos. + </p> + <p> + From above came suddenly a gruff voice in Spanish. “Señor, it would be a + great folly.” + </p> + <p> + Tomas Castro was descending the ladder gingerly. He was coming to fetch + his bundle. I went hastily into the distance of the vast, dim cavern of + spare room that served for the steerage. + </p> + <p> + “I want him very much,” Carlos said. “I like him. He would be of help to + us.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s as your worship wills,” Castro said gruffly. They were both at the + bottom of the ladder. “But an Englishman there would work great mischief. + And this youth——” + </p> + <p> + “I will take him, Tomas,” Carlos said, laying a hand on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Those others will think he is a spy. I know them,” Castro muttered. “They + will hang him, or work some devil’s mischief. You do not know that Irish + judge—the <i>canaille</i>, the friend of priests.” + </p> + <p> + “He is very brave. He will not fear,” Carlos said. + </p> + <p> + I came suddenly forward. “I will not go with you,” I said, before I had + reached them even. + </p> + <p> + Castro started back as if he had been stung, and caught at the wooden hand + that sheathed his steel blade. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it is you, Señor,” he said, with an air of relief and dislike. + Carlos, softly and very affectionately, began inviting me to go to his + uncle’s town. His uncle, he was sure, would welcome me. Jamaica and a + planter’s life were not fit for me. + </p> + <p> + I had not then spoken very loudly, or had not made my meaning very clear. + I felt a great desire to find Macdonald, and a simple life that I could + understand. + </p> + <p> + “I am not going with you,” I said, very loudly this time. + </p> + <p> + He stopped at once. Through the scuttle of the half-deck we heard a hubbub + of voices, of people exchanging greetings, of Christian names called out + joyously. A tumultuous shuffling of feet went on continuously over our + heads. The ship was crowded with people from the shore. Perhaps Macdonald + was amongst them, even looking for me. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, <i>amigo mio</i>, but you <i>must</i> now,” said Carlos gently—“you + must———” And, looking me straight in the face with a + still, penetrating glance of his big, romantic eyes, “It is a good life,” + he whispered seductively, “and I like you, John Kemp. You are young-very + young yet. But I love you very much for your own sake, and for the sake of + one I shall never see again.” + </p> + <p> + He fascinated me. He was all eyes in the dusk, standing in a languid pose + just clear of the shaft of light that fell through the scuttle in a square + patch. + </p> + <p> + I lowered my voice, too. “What life?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Life in my uncle’s palace,” he said, so sweetly and persuasively that the + suggestiveness of it caused a thrill in me. + </p> + <p> + His uncle could nominate me to posts of honour fit for a <i>caballero</i>. + </p> + <p> + I seemed to wake up. “Your uncle the pirate!” I cried, and was amazed at + my own words. + </p> + <p> + Tomas Castro sprang up, and placed his rough, hot hand over my lips. + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet, John Kemp, you fool!” he hissed with sudden energy. + </p> + <p> + He had spruced himself, but I seemed to see the rags still nutter about + him. He had combed out his beard, but I could not forget the knots that + had been in it. + </p> + <p> + “I told your worship how foolish and wrong-headed these English are,” he + said sardonically to Carlos. And then to me, “If the senor speaks loudly + again, I shall kill him.” + </p> + <p> + He was evidently very frightened of something. + </p> + <p> + Carlos, silent as an apparition at the foot of the ladder, put a finger to + his lips and glanced upwards. + </p> + <p> + Castro writhed his whole body, and I stepped backwards. “I know what Rio + Medio is,” I said, not very loudly. “It is a nest of pirates.” + </p> + <p> + Castro crept towards me again on the points of his toes. “Señor Don Juan + Kemp, child of the devil,” he hissed, looking very much frightened, “you + must die!” + </p> + <p> + I smiled. He was trembling all over. I could hear the talking and laughing + that went on under the break of the poop. Two women were kissing, with + little cries, near the hatchway. I could hear them distinctly. + </p> + <p> + Tomas Castro dropped his ragged cloak with a grandiose gesture. + </p> + <p> + “By my hand!” he added with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + He was really very much alarmed. Carlos was gazing up the hatch. I was + ready to laugh at the idea of dying by Tomas Castro’s hand while, within + five feet of me, people were laughing and kissing. I should have laughed + had I not suddenly felt his hand on my throat. I kicked his shins hard, + and fell backwards over a chest. He went back a step or two, flourished + his arm, beat his chest, and turned furiously upon Carlos. + </p> + <p> + “He will get us murdered,” he said. “Do you think we are safe here? If + these people here heard that name they wouldn’t wait to ask who your + worship is. They would tear us to pieces in an instant. I tell you—<i>moi</i>, + Tomas Castro—he will ruin us, this white fool———-” + </p> + <p> + Carlos began to cough, shaken speechless as if by an invisible devil. + Castro’s eyes ran furtively all round him, then he looked at me. He made + an extraordinary swift motion with his right hand, and I saw that he was + facing me with a long steel blade displayed. Carlos continued to cough. + The thing seemed odd, laughable still. Castro began to parade round me: it + was as if he were a cock performing its saltatory rites before attacking. + There was the same tenseness of muscle. He stepped with extraordinary care + on the points of his toes, and came to a stop about four feet from me. I + began to wonder what Rooksby would have thought of this sort of thing, to + wonder why Castro himself found it necessary to crouch for such a long + time. Up above, the hum of many people, still laughing, still talking, + faded a little out of mind. I understood, horribly, how possible it would + be to die within those few feet of them. Castro’s eyes were dusky yellow, + the pupils a great deal inflated, the lines of his mouth very hard and + drawn immensely tight. It seemed extraordinary that he should put so much + emotion into such a very easy killing. I had my back against the bulkhead, + it felt very hard against my shoulder-blades. I had no dread, only a sort + of shrinking from the actual contact of the point, as one shrinks from + being tickled. I opened my mouth. I was going to shriek a last, despairing + call, to the light and laughter of meetings above when Carlos, still + shaken, with one white hand pressed very hard upon his chest, started + forward and gripped his hand round Castro’s steel. He began to whisper in + the other’s hairy ear. I caught: + </p> + <p> + “You are a fool. He will not make us to be molested, he is my kinsman.” + </p> + <p> + Castro made a reluctant gesture towards Barnes’ chest that lay between us. + </p> + <p> + “We could cram him into that,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bloodthirsty fool,” Carlos answered, recovering his breath; “is it + always necessary to wash your hands in blood? Are we not in enough danger? + Up—up! Go see if the boat is yet there. We must go quickly; up—up———-” + He waved his hand towards the scuttle. + </p> + <p> + “But still,” Castro said. He was reluctantly fitting his wooden hand upon + the blue steel. He sent a baleful yellow glare into my eyes, and stooped + to pick up his ragged cloak. + </p> + <p> + “Up—mount!” Carlos commanded. + </p> + <p> + Castro muttered, “<i>Vamos</i>,” and began clumsily to climb the ladder, + like a bale of rags being hauled from above. Carlos placed his foot on the + steps, preparing to follow him. He turned his head round towards me, his + hand extended, a smile upon his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Juan,” he said, “let us not quarrel. You are very young; you cannot + understand these things; you cannot weigh them; you have a foolish idea in + your head. I wished you to come with us because I love you, Juan. Do you + think I wish you evil? You are true and brave, and our families are + united.” He sighed suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “I do not want to quarrel!” I said. “I don’t.” + </p> + <p> + I did not want to quarrel; I wanted more to cry. I was very lonely, and he + was going away. Romance was going out of my life. + </p> + <p> + He added musically, “You even do not understand. There is someone else who + speaks for you to me, always—someone else. But one day you will. I + shall come back for you—one day.” He looked at me and smiled. It + stirred unknown depths of emotion in me. I would have gone with him, then, + had he asked me. “One day,” he repeated, with an extraordinary cadence of + tone. + </p> + <p> + His hand was grasping mine; it thrilled me like a woman’s; he stood + shaking it very gently. + </p> + <p> + “One day,” he said, “I shall repay what I owe you. I wished you with me, + because I go into some danger. I wanted you. Good-by. <i>Hasta mas ver</i>.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned over and kissed me lightly on the cheek, then climbed away. I + felt that the light of Romance was going out of my life. As we reached the + top of the ladder, somebody began to call harshly, startlingly. I heard my + own name and the words, “mahn ye were speerin’ after.” + </p> + <p> + The light was obscured, the voice began clamouring insistently. + </p> + <p> + “John Kemp, Johnnie Kemp, noo. Here’s the mahn ye were speerin’ after. + Here’s Macdonald.” + </p> + <p> + It was the voice of Barnes, and the voice of the every day. I discovered + that I had been tremendously upset. The pulses in my temples were + throbbing, and I wanted to shut my eyes—to sleep! I was tired; + Romance had departed. Barnes and the Macdonald he had found for me + represented all the laborious insects of the world; all the ants who are + forever hauling immensely heavy and immenlsely unimportant burdens up + weary hillocks, down steep places, getting nowhere and doing nothing. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless I hurried up, stumbling at the hatchway against a man who was + looking down. He said nothing at all, and I was dazed by the light. Barnes + remarked hurriedly, “This ’ll be your Mr. Macdonald”; and, turning his + back on me, forgot my existence. I felt more alone than ever. The man in + front of me held his head low, as if he wished to butt me. + </p> + <p> + I began breathlessly to tell him I had a letter from “my—my—Rooksby—brother-in-law—Ralph + Rooks-by”—I was panting as if I had run a long way. He said nothing + at all. I fumbled for the letter in an inner pocket of my waistcoat, and + felt very shy. Macdonald maintained a portentous silence; his enormous + body was enveloped rather than clothed in a great volume of ill-fitting + white stuff; he held in his hand a great umbrella with a vivid green + lining. His face was very pale, and had the leaden transparency of a + boiled artichoke; it was fringed by a red beard streaked with gray, as + brown flood-water is with foam. I noticed at last that the reason for his + presenting his forehead to me was an incredible squint—a squint that + gave the idea that he was performing some tortuous and defiant feat with + the muscles of his neck. + </p> + <p> + He maintained an air of distrustful inscrutability. The hand which took my + letter was very large, very white, and looked as if it would feel horribly + flabby. With the other he put on his nose a pair of enormous + mother-of-pearl-framed spectacles—things exactly like those of a + cobra’s—and began to read. He had said precisely nothing at all. It + was for him and what he represented that I had thrown over Carlos and what + <i>he</i> represented. I felt that I deserved to be received with + acclamation. I was not. He read the letter very deliberately, swaying, + umbrella and all, with the slow movement of a dozing elephant. Once he + crossed his eyes at me, meditatively, above the mother-of-pearl rims. He + was so slow, so deliberate, that I own I began to wonder whether Carlos + and Castro were still on board. It seemed to be at least half an hour + before Macdonald cleared his throat, with a sound resembling the coughing + of a defective pump, and a mere trickle of a voice asked: + </p> + <p> + “Hwhat evidence have ye of identitee?” + </p> + <p> + I hadn’t any at all, and began to finger my buttonholes as shamefaced as a + pauper before a Board. The certitude dawned upon me suddenly that Carlos, + even if he would consent to swear to me, would prejudice my chances. + </p> + <p> + I cannot help thinking that I came very near to being cast adrift upon the + streets of Kingston. To my asseverations Macdonald returned nothing but a + series of minute “humphs.” I don’t know what overcame his scruples; he had + shown no signs of yielding, but suddenly turning on his heel made a motion + with one of his flabby white hands. I understood it to mean that I was to + follow him aft. + </p> + <p> + The decks were covered with a jabbering turmoil of negroes with muscular + arms and brawny shoulders. All their shining black faces seem to be + momentarily gashed open to show rows of white teeth, and were spotted with + inlaid eyeballs. The sounds coming from them were a bewildering noise. + They were hauling baggage about aimlessly. A large soft bundle of bedding + nearly took me off my legs. There wasn’t room for emotion. Macdonald laid + about him with the handle of the umbrella a few inches from the deck; but + the passage that he made for himself closed behind him. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, in the pushing and hurrying, I came upon a little clear space + beside a pile of boxes. Stooping over them was the angular figure of + Nichols, the second mate. He looked up at me, screwing his yellow eyes + together. + </p> + <p> + “Going ashore,” he asked, “’long of that Puffing Billy?” + </p> + <p> + “What business is it of yours’” I mumbled sulkily. + </p> + <p> + Sudden and intense threatening came into his yellow eyes: + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you ever come to you know where,” he said; “I don’t want no spies + on what I do. There’s a man there’ll crack your little backbone if he + catches you. Don’t yeh come now. Never.” + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + PART SECOND — THE GIRL WITH THE LIZARD + </h2> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER ONE + </h3> + <p> + “Rio Medio?” Señor Ramon said to me nearly two years afterwards. “The <i>caballero</i> + is pleased to give me credit for a very great knowledge. What should I + know of that town? There are doubtless good men there and very wicked, as + in other towns. Who knows? Your worship must ask the boats’ crews that the + admiral has sent to burn the town. They will be back very soon now.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me, inscrutably and attentively, through his gold spectacles. + </p> + <p> + It was on the arcade before his store in Spanish Town. Long sunblinds + flapped slightly. Before the next door a large sign proclaimed “Office of + the <i>Buchatoro Journal</i>” It was, as I have said, after two years—years + which, as Carlos had predicted, I had found to be of hard work, and long, + hot sameness. I had come down from Horton Pen to Spanish Town, expecting a + letter from Veronica, and, the stage not being in, had dropped in to chat + with Ramon over a consignment of Yankee notions, which he was prepared to + sell at an extravagantly cheap price. It was just at the time when Admiral + Rowley was understood to be going to make an energetic attempt upon the + pirates who still infested the Gulf of Mexico and nearly ruined the + Jamaica trade of those days. Naturally enough, we had talked of the + mysterious town in which the pirates were supposed to have their + headquarters. + </p> + <p> + “I know no more than others,” Ramon said, “save, senor, that I lose much + more because my dealings are much greater. But I do not even know whether + those who take my goods are pirates, as you English say, or Mexican + privateers, as the Havana authorities say. I do not very much care. <i>Basta</i>, + what I know is that every week some ship with a letter of marque steals + one of my consignments, and I lose many hundreds of dollars.” + </p> + <p> + Ramon was, indeed, one of the most frequented merchants in Jamaica; he had + stores in both Kingston and Spanish Town; his cargoes came from all the + seas. All the planters and all the official class in the island had + dealings with him. + </p> + <p> + “It was most natural that the hidalgo, your respected cousin, should + consult me if he wished to go to any town in Cuba. Whom else should he go + to? You yourself, señor, or the excellent Mr. Topnambo, if you desired to + know what ships in a month’s time are likely to be sailing for Havana, for + New Orleans, or any Gulf port, you would ask me. What more natural? It is + my business, my trade, to know these things. In that way I make my bread. + But as for Rio Medio, I do not know the place.” He had a touch of irony in + his composed voice. “But it is very certain,” he went on, “that if your + Government had not recognized the belligerent rights of the rebellious + colony of Mexico, there would be now no letters of marque, no accursed + Mexican privateers, and I and everyone else in the island should not now + be losing thousands of dollars every year.” + </p> + <p> + That was the eternal grievance of every Spaniard in the island—and + of not a few of the English and Scotch planters. Spain was still in the + throes of losing the Mexican colonies when Great Britain had acknowledged + the existence of a state of war and a Mexican Government. Mexican letters + of marque had immediately filled the Gulf. No kind of shipping was safe + from them, and Spain was quite honestly powerless to prevent their + swarming on the coast of Cuba—the Ever Faithful Island, itself. + </p> + <p> + “What can Spain do,” said Ramon bitterly, “when even your Admiral Rowley, + with his great ships, cannot rid the sea of them?” He lowered his voice. + “I tell you, young señor, that England will lose this Island of Jamaica + over this business. You yourself are a Separationist, are you not?... No? + You live with Separationists. How could I tell? Many people say you are.” + </p> + <p> + His words gave me a distinctly disagreeable sensation. I hadn’t any idea + of being a Separationist; I was loyal enough. But I understood suddenly, + and for the first time, how very much like one I might look. + </p> + <p> + “I myself am nothing,” Ramon went on impassively; “I am content that the + island should remain English. It will never again be Spanish, nor do I + wish that it should. But our little, waspish friend there”—he lifted + one thin, brown hand to the sign of the <i>Buckatoro Journal</i>—“his + paper is doing much mischief. I think the admiral or the governor will + commit him to jail. He is going to run away and take his paper to + Kingston; I myself have bought his office furniture.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at him and wondered, for all his impassivity, what he knew—what, + in the depths of his inscrutable Spanish brain, his dark eyes concealed. + </p> + <p> + He bowed to me a little. “There will come a very great trouble,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Jamaica was in those days—and remained for many years after—in + the throes of a question. The question was, of course, that of the + abolition of slavery. The planters as a rule were immensely rich and + overbearing. They said, “If the Home Government tries to abolish our + slavery system, we will abolish the Home Government, and go to the United + States for protection.” That was treason, of course; but there was so much + of it that the governor, the Duke of Manchester, had to close his ears and + pretend not to hear. The planters had another grievance—the pirates + in the Gulf of Mexico. There was one in particular, a certain El Demonio + or Diableto, who practically sealed the Florida passage; it was hardly + possible to get a cargo underwritten, and the planters’ pockets felt it a + good deal. Practically, El Demonio had, during the last two years, gutted + a ship once a week, as if he wanted to help the Kingston Separationist + papers. The planters said, “If the Home Government wishes to meddle with + our internal affairs, our slaves, let it first clear our seas.... Let it + hang El Demonio....” + </p> + <p> + The Government had sent out one of Nelson’s old captains, Admiral Rowley, + a good fighting man; but when it came to clearing the Gulf of Mexico, he + was about as useless as a prize-fighter trying to clear a stable of rats. + I don’t suppose El Demonio really did more than a tithe of the mischief + attributed to him, but in the peculiar circumstances he found himself + elevated to the rank of an important factor in colonial politics. The + Ministerialist papers used to kill him once a month; the Separationists + made him capture one of old Rowley’s sloops five times a year. They both + lied, of course. But obviously Rowley and his frigates weren’t much use + against a pirate whom they could not catch at sea, and who lived at the + bottom of a bottle-necked creek with tooth rocks all over the entrance—that + was the sort of place Rio Medio was reported to be.... + </p> + <p> + I didn’t much care about either party—I was looking out for romance—but + I inclined a little to the Separationists, because Macdonald, with whom I + lived for two years at Horton Pen, was himself a Separationist, in a cool + Scotch sort of way. He was an Argyleshire man, who had come out to the + island as a lad in 1786, and had worked his way up to the position of + agent to the Rooksby estate at Horton Pen. He had a little estate of his + own, too, at the mouth of the River Minho, where he grew rice very + profitably. He had been the first man to plant it on the island. + </p> + <p> + Horton Pen nestled down at the foot of the tall white scars that end the + Vale of St. Thomas and are not much unlike Dover Cliffs, hanging over a + sea of squares of the green cane, alternating with masses of pimento + foliage. Macdonald’s wife was an immensely stout, raven-haired, sloe-eyed, + talkative body, the most motherly woman I have ever known—I suppose + because she was childless. + </p> + <p> + What was anomalous in my position had passed away with the next outward + mail. Veronica wrote to me; Ralph to his attorney and the Macdonalds. But + by that time Mrs. Mac. had darned my socks ten times. + </p> + <p> + The surrounding gentry, the large resident landowners, of whom there + remained a sprinkling in the Vale, were at first inclined to make much of + me. There was Mrs. Topnambo, a withered, very dried-up personage, who + affected pink trimmings; she gave the <i>ton</i> to the countryside as far + as ton could be given to a society that rioted with hospitality. She made + efforts to draw me out of the Macdonald environment, to make me + differentiate myself, because I was the grandson of an earl. But the + Topnambos were the great Loyalists of the place, and the Macdonalds the + principal Separationists, and I stuck to the Macdonalds. I was searching + for romance, you see, and could find none in Mrs. Topnambo’s white figure, + with its dryish, gray skin, and pink patches round the neck, that lay + forever in dark or darkened rooms, and talked querulously of “Your uncle, + the earl,” whom I had never seen. I didn’t get on with the men any better. + They were either very dried up and querulous, too, or else very liquorish + or boisterous in an incomprehensible way. Their evenings seemed to be a + constant succession of shouts of laughter, merging into undignified + staggers of white trousers through blue nights—round the corners of + ragged huts. I never understood the hidden sources of their humour, and I + had not money enough to mix well with their lavishness. I was too proud to + be indebted to them, too. They didn’t even acknowledge me on the road at + last; they called me poor-spirited, a thin-blooded nobleman’s cub—a + Separationist traitor—and left me to superintend niggers and save + money. Mrs. Mac, good Separationist though she was, as became the wife of + her husband, had the word “home” forever on her lips. She had once visited + the Rooksbys at Horton; she had treasured up a host of tiny things, parts + of my forgotten boyhood, and she talked of them and talked of them until + that past seemed a wholly desirable time, and the present a dull thing! + </p> + <p> + Journeying in search of romance—and that, after all, is our business + in this world—is much like trying to catch the horizon. It lies a + little distance before us, and a little <i>distance behind—about as + far as the eye can carry.</i> One, discovers that one has passed through + it just as one passed what is to-day our horizon—One looks back and + says. “Why there it is.” One looks forward and says the same. It lies + either in the old days when we used to, or in <i>the new days when we + shall</i>. I look back upon those days of mine, and little things remain, + come back to me, assume an atmosphere, take significance, go to the making + of a <i>temps jadis</i>. Probably, when I look back upon what is the dull, + arid waste of to-day, it will be much the same. + </p> + <p> + I could almost wish to take again one of the long, uninteresting night + rides from the Vale to Spanish Town, or to listen once more to one of old + Macdonald’s interminable harangues on the folly of Mr. Canning’s policy, + or the virtues of Scotch thrift. “Jack, lad,” he used to bellow in his + curious squeak of a voice, “a gentleman you may be of guid Scots blood. + But ye’re a puir body’s son for a’ that.” He was set on my making money + and turning honest pennies. I think he really liked me. + </p> + <p> + It was with that idea that he introduced me to Ramon, “an esteemed Spanish + merchant of Kingston and Spanish Town.” Ramon had seemed mysterious when I + had seen him in company with Carlos and Castro but re-introduced in the + homely atmosphere of the Macdonalds, he had become merely a saturnine, + tall, dusky-featured, gold-spectacled Spaniard, and very good company. I + learnt nearly all my Spanish from him. The only mystery about him was the + extravagantly cheap rate at which he sold his things under the flagstaff + in front of Admiral Rowley’s house, the King’s House, as it was called. + The admiral himself was said to have extensive dealings with Ramon; he had + at least the reputation of desiring to turn an honest penny, like myself. + At any rate, everyone, from the proudest planters to the editor of the <i>Buckatoro + Journal</i> next door, was glad of a chat with Ramon, whose knowledge of + an immense variety of things was as deep as a draw-well—and as + placid. + </p> + <p> + I used to buy island produce through him, ship it to New Orleans, have it + sold, and re-import parcels of “notions,” making a double profit. He was + always ready to help me, and as ready to talk, saying that he had an + immense respect for my relations, the Riegos. + </p> + <p> + That was how, at the end of my second year in the island, I had come to + talking to him. The stage should have brought a letter from Veronica, who + was to have presented Rooksby with a son and heir, but it was + unaccountably late. I had been twice to the coach office, and was making + my way desultorily back to Ramon’s. He was talking to the editor of the <i>Buckatoro + Journal</i>—the man from next door—and to another who had, + whilst I walked lazily across the blazing square, ridden furiously up to + the steps of the arcade. The rider was talking to both of them with + exaggerated gestures of his arms. He had ridden off, spurring, and the + editor, a little, gleaming-eyed hunchback, had remained in the sunshine, + talking excitedly to Ramon. + </p> + <p> + I knew him well, an amusing, queer, warped, Satanic member of society, who + was a sort of nephew to the Macdonalds, and hand in glove with all the + Scotch Separationists of the island. He had started an extraordinary, + scandalous paper that, to avoid sequestration, changed its name and + offices every few issues, and was said by Loyalists, like the Topnambos, + to have an extremely bad influence. + </p> + <p> + He subsisted a good deal on the charity of people like the Macdonalds, and + I used sometimes to catch sight of him at evenfall listening to Mrs. + Macdonald; he would be sitting beside her hammock on the veranda, his head + very much down on his breast, very much on one side, and his great hump + portending over his little white face, and ruffling up his ragged black + hair. Mrs. Macdonald clacked all the scandal of the Vale, and the <i>Buckatoro + Journal</i> got the benefit of it all, with adornments. + </p> + <p> + For the last month or so the Journal had been more than usually effective, + and it was only because Rowley was preparing to confound his traducers by + the boat attack on Rio Medio, that a warrant had not come against David. + When I saw him talking to Ramon, I imagined that the rider must have + brought news of a warrant, and that David was preparing for flight. He + hopped nimbly from Ramon’s steps into the obscurity of his own door. Ramon + turned his spectacles softly upon me. + </p> + <p> + “There you have it,” he said. “The folly; the folly! To send only little + boats to attack such a nest of villains. It is inconceivable.” + </p> + <p> + The horseman had brought news that the boats of Rowley’s squadron had been + beaten off with great loss, in their attack on Rio Medio. + </p> + <p> + Ramon went on with an air of immense superiority, “And all the while we + merchants are losing thousands.” + </p> + <p> + His dark eyes searched my face, and it came disagreeably into my head that + he was playing some part; that his talk was delusive, his anger feigned; + that, perhaps, he still suspected me of being a Separationist. He went on + talking about the failure of the boat attack. All Jamaica had been talking + of it, speculating about it, congratulating itself on it. British valour + was going to tell; four boats’ crews would do the trick. And now the boats + had been beaten off, the crews captured, half the men killed! Already + there was panic on the island. I could see men coming together in little + knots, talking eagerly. I didn’t like to listen to Ramon, to a Spaniard + talking in that way about the defeat of my countrymen by his. I walked + across the King’s Square, and the stage driving up just then, I went to + the office, and got my correspondence. + </p> + <p> + Veronica’s letter came like a faint echo, like the sound of very distant + surf, heard at night; it seemed impossible that any one could be as + interested as she in the things that were happening over there. She had + had a son; one of Ralph’s aunts was its godmother. She and Ralph had been + to Bath last spring; the country wanted water very badly. Ralph had used + his influence, had explained matters to a very great personage, had spent + a little money on the injured runners. In the meanwhile I had nearly + forgotten the whole matter; it seemed to be extraordinary that they should + still be interested in it. + </p> + <p> + I was to come back; as soon as it was safe I was to come back; that was + the main tenor of the letter. + </p> + <p> + I read it in a little house of call, in a whitewashed room that contained + a cardboard cat labelled “The Best,” for sole ornament. Four swarthy + fellows, Mexican patriots, were talking noisily about their War of + Independence, and the exploits of a General Trapelascis, who had been + defeating the Spanish troops over there. It was almost impossible to + connect them with a world that included Veronica’s delicate handwriting + with the pencil lines erased at the base of each line of ink. They seemed + to be infinitely more real. Even Veronica’s interest in me seemed a little + strange; her desire for my return irritated me. It was as if she had asked + me to return to a state of bondage, after having found myself. Thinking of + it made me suddenly aware that I had become a man, with a man’s aims, and + a disillusionized view of life. It suddenly appeared very wonderful that I + could sit calmly there, surveying, for instance, those four sinister + fellows with daggers, as if they were nothing at all. When I had been at + home the matter would have caused me extraordinary emotions, as many as if + I had seen an elephant in a travelling show. As for going back to my old + life, it didn’t seem to be possible. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER TWO + </h3> + <p> + One night I was riding alone towards Horton Pen. A large moon hung itself + up above me like an enormous white plate. Finally the sloping roof of the + Ferry Inn, with one dishevelled palm tree drooping over it, rose into the + disk. The window lights were reflected like shaken torches in the river. A + mass of objects, picked out with white globes, loomed in the high shadow + of the inn, standing motionless. They resolved themselves into a barouche, + with four horses steaming a great deal, and an army of negresses with + bandboxes on their heads. A great lady was on the road; her querulous + voice was calling to someone within the open door that let down a soft + yellow light from the top of the precipitous steps. A nondescript object, + with apparently two horns and a wheel, rested inert at the foot of the + sign-post; two negroes were wiping their foreheads beside it. That + resolved itself into a man slumbering in a wheelbarrow, his white face + turned up to the moon. A sort of buzz of voices came from above; then a + man in European clothes was silhouetted against the light in the doorway. + He held a full glass very carefully and started to descend. Suddenly he + stopped emotionally. Then he turned half-right and called back, “Sir + Charles! Sir Charles! Here’s the very man! I protest, the very man!” There + was an interrogative roar from within. It was like being outside a lion’s + cage. + </p> + <p> + People appeared and disappeared in front of the lighted door; windows + stood open, with heads craning out all along the inn face. I was hurrying + off the back of my horse when the admiral came out on to the steps. + Someone lit a torch, and the admiral became a dark, solid figure, with the + flash of the gold lace on his coat. He stood very high in the leg; had + small white whiskers, and a large nose that threw a vast shadow on to his + forehead in the upward light; his high collar was open, and a mass of + white appeared under his chin; his head was uncovered. A third male face, + very white, bobbed up and down beside his shining left shoulder. He kept + on saying: + </p> + <p> + “What? what? what? Hey, what?... That man?” He appeared to be halfway + between supreme content and violent anger. At last he delivered himself. + “Let’s duck him... hey?... Let’s duck him!” He spoke with a sort of + benevolent chuckle, then raised his voice and called, “Tinsley! Tinsley! + Where the deuce is Tinsley?” + </p> + <p> + A high nasal sound came from the carriage window. “Sir Charles! Sir + Charles! Let there be no scene in my presence, I beg.” + </p> + <p> + I suddenly saw, halfway up, laboriously ascending the steps, a black + figure, indistinguishable at first on account of deformities. It was David + Macdonald. Since his last, really terrible comments on the failure of the + boat-attack, he had been lying hidden somewhere. It came upon me in a + flash that he was making his way from one hiding place to another. In + making his escape from Spanish Town, either to Kingston or the Vale, he + had run against the admiral and his party returning from the Topnambos’ + ball. It was hardly a coincidence: everyone on the road met at the Ferry + Inn. But that hardly made the thing more pleasant. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles continued to clamour for Tinsley, his flag lieutenant, who, as + a matter of fact, was the man drunk in the wheelbarrow. When this was + explained by the shouts of the negroes, he grunted, “Umph!” turned on the + man at his side, and said, “Here, Oldham; you lend a hand to duck the + little toad.” It was the sort of thing that the thirsty climate of Jamaica + rendered frequent enough. Oldham dropped his glass and protested. + Macdonald continued silently and enigmatically to climb the steps; now he + was in for it he showed plenty of pluck. No doubt he recognized that, if + the admiral made a fool of himself, he would be afraid to issue warrants + in soberness. I could not stand by and see them bully the wretched little + creature. At the same time I didn’t, most decidedly, want to identify + myself with him. + </p> + <p> + I called out impulsively, “Sir Charles, surely you would not use violence + to a cripple.” + </p> + <p> + Then, very suddenly, they all got to action, David Macdonald reaching the + top of the steps. Shrieks came from the interior of the carriage, and from + the waiting négresses. I saw three men were falling upon a little thing + like a damaged cat. I couldn’t stand that, come what might of it. + </p> + <p> + I ran hastily up the steps, hoping to be able to make them recover their + senses, a force of purely conventional emotion impelling me. It was no + business of mine; I didn’t want to interfere, and I felt like a man + hastening to separate half a dozen fighting dogs too large to be pleasant. + </p> + <p> + When I reached the top, there was a sort of undignified scuffle, and in + the end I found myself standing above a ghastly white gentleman who, from + a sitting posture, was gasping out, “I’ll commit you!... I swear I’ll + commit you!...” I helped him to his feet rather apologetically, while the + admiral behind me was asking insistently who the deuce I was. The man I + had picked up retreated a little, and then turned back to look at me. The + light was shining on my face, and he began to call out, “I know him. I + know him perfectly well. He’s John Kemp. I’ll commit him at once. The + papers are in the barouche.” After that he seemed to take it into his head + that I was going to assault him again. He bolted out of sight, and I was + left facing the admiral. He stared at me contemptuously. I was streaming + with perspiration and upbraiding him for assaulting a cripple. + </p> + <p> + The admiral said, “Oh, that’s what you think? I will settle with you + presently. This is rank mutiny.” I looked at Oldham, who was the admiral’s + secretary. He was extremely dishevelled about his neck, much as if a + monkey had been clawing him thereabouts. Half of his roll collar flapped + on his heaving chest; his stock hung down behind like a cue. I had seen + him kneeling on the ground with his head pinned down by the hunchback. I + said loftily: + </p> + <p> + “What did you set him on a little beggar like that for? You were three to + one. What did you expect?” + </p> + <p> + The admiral swore. Oldham began to mop with a lace handkerchief at a + damaged upper lip from which a stream of blood was running; he even seemed + to be weeping a little. Finally, he vanished in at the door, very much + bent together. The undaunted David hopped in after him coolly. + </p> + <p> + The admiral said, “I know your kind. You’re a treasonous dog, sir. This is + mutiny. You shall be made an example of.” + </p> + <p> + All the same he must have been ashamed of himself, for presently he and + the two others went down the steps without even looking at me, and their + carriage rolled away. + </p> + <p> + Inside the inn I found a couple of merchant captains, one asleep with his + head on the table and little rings shining in his great red ears; the + other very spick and span—of what they called the new school then. + His name was Williams—Captain Williams of the <i>Lion</i>, which he + part owned; a man of some note for the dinners he gave on board his ship. + His eyes sparkled blue and very round in a round rosy face, and he clawed + effusively at my arm. + </p> + <p> + “Well done!” he bubbled over. “You gave it them; strike me, you did! It + did me good to see and hear. I wasn’t going to poke my nose in, not I. But + I admire you, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + He was a quite guileless man with a strong dislike for the admiral’s + blundering—a dislike that all the seamen shared—and for people + of the Topnambo kidney who affected to be above his dinners. He assured me + that I had burst upon those gentry roaring... “like the Bull of Bashan. + You should have seen!” and he drank my health in a glass of punch. + </p> + <p> + David Macdonald joined us, looming through wreaths of tobacco smoke. He + was always very nice in his dress, and had washed himself into a state of + enviable coolness. + </p> + <p> + “They won’t touch me now,” he said. “I wanted that assault and + battery....” He suddenly turned vivid, sarcastic black eyes upon me. “But + you,” he said—“my dear Kemp! You’re in a devil of a scrape! They’ll + have a warrant out against you under the Black Act. I know the gentry.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he won’t mind,” Williams struck in, “I know him; he’s a trump. Afraid + of nothing.” + </p> + <p> + David Macdonald made a movement of his head that did duty for an ominous + shake: + </p> + <p> + “It’s a devil of a mess,” he said. “But I’ll touch them up. Why did you + hit Topnambo? He’s the spitefullest beast in the island. They’ll make it + out high treason. They are capable of sending you home on this charge.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never say die.” Williams turned to me, “Come and dine with me on + board at Kingston to-morrow night. If there’s any fuss I’ll see what I can + do. Or you can take a trip with me to Havana till it blows over. My old + woman’s on board.” His face fell. “But there, you’ll get round her. I’ll + see you through.” + </p> + <p> + They drank some sangaree and became noisy. I wasn’t very happy; there was + much truth in what David Macdonald had said. Topnambo would certainly do + his best to have me in jail—to make an example of me as a + Separationist to please the admiral and the Duke of Manchester. Under the + spell of his liquor Williams became more and more pressing with his offers + of help. + </p> + <p> + “It’s the devil that my missus should be on board, just this trip. But + hang it! come and dine with me. I’ll get some of the Kingston men—the + regular hot men—to stand up for you. They will when they hear the + tale.” + </p> + <p> + There was a certain amount of sense in what he said. If warrants were out + against me, he or some of the Kingston merchants whom he knew, and who had + no cause to love the admiral, might help me a good deal. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, I did go down to Kingston. It happened to be the day when the + seven pirates were hanged at Port Royal Point. I had never seen a hanging, + and a man who hadn’t was rare in those days. I wanted to keep out of the + way, but it was impossible to get a boatman to row me off to the <i>Lion</i>. + They were all dying to see the show, and, half curious, half reluctant, I + let myself drift with the crowd. + </p> + <p> + The gallows themselves stood high enough to be seen—a long very + stout beam supported by posts at each end. There was a blazing sun, and + the crowd pushed and shouted and craned its thousands of heads every time + one heard the cry of “Here they come,” for an hour or so. There was a very + limpid sky, a very limpid sea, a scattering of shipping gliding up and + down, and the very silent hills a long way away. There was a large flavour + of Spaniards among the crowd. I got into the middle of a knot of them, + jammed against the wheels of one of the carriages, standing, hands down, + on tiptoe, staring at the long scaffold. There were a great many false + alarms, sudden outcries, hushing again rather slowly. In between I could + hear someone behind me talk Spanish to the occupants of the carriage. I + thought the voice was Ramon’s, but I could not turn, and the people in the + carriage answered in French, I thought. A man was shouting “Cool Drinks” + on the other side of them. + </p> + <p> + Finally, there was a roar, an irresistible swaying, a rattle of musket + ramrods, a rhythm of marching feet, and the grating of heavy iron-bound + wheels. Seven men appeared in sight above the heads, clinging to each + other for support, and being drawn slowly along. The little worsted balls + on the infantry shakos bobbed all round their feet. They were a + sorry-looking group, those pirates; very wild-eyed, very ragged, + dust-stained, weather-beaten, begrimed till they had the colour of + unpolished mahogany. Clinging still to each other as they stood beneath + the dangling ropes of the long beam, they had the appearance of a group of + statuary to forlorn misery. Festoons of chains completed the + “composition.” + </p> + <p> + One was a very old man with long yellow-white hair, one a negro whose skin + had no lustre at all. The rest were very dark-skinned, peak-bearded, and + had long hair falling round their necks. A soldier with a hammer and a + small anvil climbed into the cart, and bent down out of sight. There was a + ring of iron on iron, and the man next the very old man raised his arms + and began to speak very slowly, very distinctly, and very mournfully. It + was quite easy to understand him; he declared his perfect innocence. No + one listened to him; his name was Pedro Nones. He ceased speaking, and + someone on a horse, the High Sheriff, I think, galloped impatiently past + the cart and shouted. Two men got into the cart, one pulled the rope, the + other caught the pirate by the elbows. He jerked himself loose, and began + to cry out; he seemed to be lost in amazement, and shrieked: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Adonde está el padre?... Adonde está el padre?</i>” No one answered; + there wasn’t a priest of any denomination; I don’t know whether the + omission was purposed. The man’s face grew convulsed with agony, his + eyeballs stared out very white and vivid, as he struggled with the two + men. He began to curse us epileptically for compassing his damnation. A + hoarse patter of Spanish imprecations came from the crowd immediately + round me. The man with the voice like Ramon’s groaned in a lamentable way; + someone else said, “What infamy ... what infamy!” + </p> + <p> + An aged voice said tremulously in the carriage, “This shall be a matter of + official remonstrance.” Another said, “Ah, these English heretics!” + </p> + <p> + There was a forward rush of the crowd, which carried me away. Someone in + front began to shout orders, and the crowd swayed back again. The infantry + muskets rattled. The commotion lasted some time. When it ceased, I saw + that the man about to die had been kissing the very old man; tears were + streaming down the gray, parchment-coloured cheeks. Pedro Nones had the + rope round his neck; it curved upwards loosely towards the beam, growing + taut as the cart jolted away. He shouted: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Adiôs, viejo, para siempre adi———</i>” + </p> + <p> + My whole body seemed to go dead all over. I happened to look downwards at + my hands; they were extraordinarily white, with the veins standing out all + over them. They felt as if they had been sodden in water, and it was quite + a long time before they recovered their natural colour. The rest of the + men were hung after that, the cart jolting a little way backwards and + forwards and growing less crowded after every journey. One man, who was + very large framed and stout, had to go through it twice because the rope + broke. He made a good deal of fuss. My head ached, and after the + involuntary straining and craning to miss no details was over, I felt sick + and dazed. The people talked a great deal as they streamed back, loosening + over the broader stretch of pebbles; they seemed to wish to remind each + other of details. I have an idea that one or two, in the sheer largeness + of heart that seizes one after occasions of popular emotions, asked me in + exulting voices if I had seen the nigger’s tongue sticking out. + </p> + <p> + Others thought that there wasn’t very much to be exultant over. We had not + really captured the pirates; they had been handed over to the admiral by + the Havana authorities—as an international courtesy I suppose, or + else because they were pirates of no account and short in funds, or + because the admiral had been making a fuss in front of the Morro. It was + even asserted by the anti-admiral faction that the seven weren’t pirates + at all, but merely Cuban <i>mauvais sujets</i>, hawkers of derogatory <i>coplas</i>, + and known freethinkers. In any case, excited people cheered the High + Sheriff and the returning infantry, because it was pleasant to hang any + kind of Spaniard. I got nearly knocked down by the kettle-drummers, who + came through the scattering crowd at a swinging quick-step. As I cannoned + off the drums, a hand caught at my arm, and someone else began to speak to + me. It was old Ramon, who was telling me that he had a special kind of + Manchester goods at his store. He explained that they had arrived very + lately, and that he had come from Spanish Town solely on their account. + One made the eighth of a penny a yard more on them than on any other kind. + If I would deign to have some of it offered to my inspection, he had his + little curricle just off the road. He was drawing me gently towards it all + the time, and I had not any idea of resisting. He had been behind in the + crowd, he said, beside the carriage of the commissioner and the judge of + the Marine Court sent by the Havana authorities to deliver the pirates. + </p> + <p> + It was after that, that in Ramon’s dusky store, I had my first sight of + Seraphina and of her father, and then came my meeting with Carlos. I could + hardly believe my eyes when I saw him come out with extended hand. It was + an extraordinary sensation, that of talking to Carlos again. He seemed to + have worn badly. His face had lost its moist bloom, its hardly + distinguishable subcutaneous flush. It had grown very, very pale. Dark + blue circles took away from the blackness and sparkle of his eyes. And he + coughed, and coughed. + </p> + <p> + He put his arm affectionately round my shoulders and said, “How splendid + to see you again, my Juan.” His eyes had affection in them, there was no + doubt about that, but I felt vaguely suspicious of him. I remembered how + we had parted on board the <i>Thames</i>. “We can talk here,” he added; + “it is very pleasant. You shall see my uncle, that great man, the star of + Cuban law, and my cousin Seraphina, your kinsfolk. They love you; I have + spoken well of you.” He smiled gayly, and went on, “This is not a place + befitting his greatness, nor my cousin’s, nor, indeed, my own.” He smiled + again. “But I shall be very soon dead, and to me it matters little.” He + frowned a little, and then laughed. “But you should have seen the faces of + your officers when my uncle refused to go to their governor’s palace; + there was to have been a <i>fiesta</i>, a ‘reception’; is it not the word? + It will cause a great scandal.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled with a good deal of fine malice, and looked as if he expected me + to be pleased. I said that I did not quite understand what had offended + his uncle. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was because there was no priest,” Carlos answered, “when those + poor devils were hung. They were <i>canaille</i>. Yes; but one gives that + much even to such. And my uncle was there in his official capacity as a a + plenipotentiary. He was very much distressed: we were all. You heard, my + uncle himself had advised their being surrendered to your English. And + when there was no priest he repented very bitterly. Why, after all, it was + an infamy.” + </p> + <p> + He paused again, and leant back against the counter. When his eyes were + upon the ground and his face not animated by talking, there became + lamentably insistent his pallor, the deep shadows under his eyes, and + infinite sadness in the droop of his features, as if he were preoccupied + by an all-pervading and hopeless grief. When he looked at me, he smiled, + however. + </p> + <p> + “Well, at worst it is over, and my uncle is here in this dirty place + instead of at your palace. We sail back to Cuba this very evening.” He + looked round him at Ramon’s calicos and sugar tubs in the dim light, as if + he accepted almost incredulously the fact that they could be in such a + place, and the manner of his voice indicated that he thought our + governor’s palace would have been hardly less barbarous. “But I am sorry,” + he said suddenly, “because I wanted you—you and all your countrymen—to + make a good impression on him. You must do it yourself alone. And you + will. You are not like these others. You are our kinsman, and I have + praised you very much. You saved my life.” + </p> + <p> + I began to say that I had done nothing at all, but he waved his hand with + a little smile. + </p> + <p> + “You are very brave,” he said, as if to silence me. “I am not ungrateful.” + </p> + <p> + He began again to ask for news from home—from my home. I told him + that Veronica had a baby, and he sighed. + </p> + <p> + “She married the excellent Rooksby?” he asked. “Ah, what a waste.” He + relapsed into silence again. “There was no woman in your land like her. + She might have———- And to marry that—that + excellent personage, my good cousin. It is a tragedy.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a very good match,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + He sighed again. “My uncle is asleep in there, now,” he said, after a + pause, pointing at the inner door. “We must not wake him; he is a very old + man. You do not mind talking to me? You will wait to see them? Dona + Seraphina is here, too.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not married your cousin?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + I wanted very much to see the young girl who had looked at me for a + moment, and I certainly should have been distressed if Carlos had said she + was married. + </p> + <p> + He answered, “What would you have?” and shrugged his shoulders gently. A + smile came into his face. “She is very willful. I did not please her, I do + not know why. Perhaps she has seen too many men like me.” + </p> + <p> + He told me that, when he reached Cuba, after parting with me on the <i>Thames</i>, + his uncle, “in spite of certain influences,” had received him quite + naturally as his heir, and the future head of the family. But Seraphina, + whom by the laws of convenience he ought to have married, had quite calmly + refused him. + </p> + <p> + “I did not impress her; she is romantic. She wanted a very bold man, a + Cid, something that it is not easy to have.” + </p> + <p> + He paused again, and looked at me with some sort of challenge in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “She could have met no one better than you,” I said. + </p> + <p> + He waved his hand a little. “Oh, for that———-” he said + deprecatingly. “Besides, I am dying. I have never been well since I went + into your cold sea, over there, after we left your sister. You remember + how I coughed on board that miserable ship.” + </p> + <p> + I did remember it very well. + </p> + <p> + He went to the inner door, looked in, and then came back to me. + </p> + <p> + “Seraphina needs a guide—a controller—someone very strong and + gentle, and kind and brave. My uncle will never ask her to marry against + her wish; he is too old and has too little will. And for any man who would + marry her—except one—there would be great dangers, for her and + for him. It would need a cool man, and a brave man, and a good one, too, + to hazard, perhaps even life, for her sake. She will be very rich. All our + lands, all our towns, all our gold.” There was a suggestion of + fabulousness in his dreamy voice. “They shall never be mine,” he added. “<i>Vaya</i>.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me with his piercing eyes set to an expression that might + have been gentle mockery. At any rate, it also contained intense scrutiny, + and, perhaps, a little of appeal. I sighed myself. + </p> + <p> + “There is a man called O’Brien in there,” he said. “He does us the honour + to pretend to my cousin’s hand.” + </p> + <p> + I felt singularly angry. “Well, he’s not a Spaniard,” I said. + </p> + <p> + Carlos answered mockingly, “Oh, for Spaniard, no. He is a descendant of + the Irish kings.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s an adventurer,” I said. “You ought to be on your guard. You don’t + know these bog-trotting fortune-hunters. They’re the laughter of Europe, + kings and all.” + </p> + <p> + Carlos smiled again. “He’s a very dangerous man for all that,” he said. “I + should not advise any one to come to Rio Medio, my uncle’s town, without + making a friend of the Señor O’Brien.” + </p> + <p> + He went once more to the inner door, and, after a moment’s whispering with + someone within, returned to me. + </p> + <p> + “My uncle still sleeps,” he said. “I must keep you a little longer. Ah, + yes, the Señor O’Brien. He shall marry my cousin, I think, when I am + dead.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know these fellows,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know them very well,” Carlos smiled, “there are many of them at + Havana. They came there after what they call the ’98, when there was great + rebellion in Ireland, and many good Catholics were killed and ruined.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he’s a rebel, and ought to be hung,” I said. + </p> + <p> + Carlos laughed as of old. “It may be, but, my good Juan, we Christians do + not see eye to eye with you. This man rebelled against your government, + but, also, he suffered for the true faith. He is a good Catholic; he has + suffered for it; and in the Ever Faithful Island, that is a passport. He + has climbed very high; he is a judge of the Marine Court at Havana. That + is why he is here to-day, attending my uncle in this affair of delivering + up the pirates. My uncle loves him very much. O’Brien was at first my + uncle’s clerk, and my uncle made him a <i>juez</i>, and he is also the + intendant of my uncle’s estates, and he has a great influence in my + uncle’s town of Rio Medio. I tell you, if you come to visit us, it will be + as well to be on good terms with the Señor Juez O’Brien. My uncle is a + very old man, and if I die before him, this O’Brien, I think, will end by + marrying my cousin, because my poor uncle is very much in his hands. There + are other pretenders, but they have little chance, because it is so very + dangerous to come to my uncle’s town of Rio Medio, on account of this + man’s intrigues and of his power with the populace.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at Carlos intently. The name of the town had seemed to be + familiar to me. Now I suddenly remembered that it was where Nicolas el + Demonio, the pirate who was so famous as to be almost mythical, had beaten + off Admiral Rowley’s boats. + </p> + <p> + “Come, you had better see this Irish hidalgo who wants to do us so much + honour,”—he gave an inscrutable glance at me,—“but do not talk + loudly till my uncle wakes.” + </p> + <p> + He threw the door open. I followed him into the room, where the vision of + the ancient Don and the charming apparition of the young girl had + retreated only a few moments before. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER THREE + </h3> + <p> + The room was very lofty and coldly dim; there were great bars in front of + the begrimed windows. It was very bare, containing only a long black + table, some packing cases, and half a dozen rocking chairs. Of these, five + were very new and one very old, black and heavy, with a green leather seat + and a coat of arms worked on its back cushions. There were little heaps of + mahogany sawdust here and there on the dirty tiled floor, and a pile of + sacking in one corner. Beneath a window the flap of an open trap-door half + hid a large green damp-stain; a deep recess in the wall yawned like a + cavern, and had two or three tubs in the right corner; a man with a blond + head, slightly bald as if he had been tonsured, was rocking gently in one + of the new chairs. + </p> + <p> + Opposite him, with his aged face towards us, sat the old Don asleep in the + high chair. His delicate white hands lay along the arms, one of them + holding a gold vinaigrette; his black, silver-headed cane was between his + silk-stockinged legs. The diamond buckles of his shoes shot out little + vivid rays, even in that gloomy place. The young girl was sitting with her + hands to her temples and her elbows on the long table, minutely examining + the motionlessness of a baby lizard, a tiny thing with golden eyes, whom + fear seemed to have turned into stone. + </p> + <p> + We entered quietly, and after a moment she looked up candidly into my + eyes, and placed her finger on her lips, motioning her head towards her + father. She placed her hand in mine, and whispered very clearly: + </p> + <p> + “Be welcome, my English cousin,” and then dropped her eyes again to the + lizard. + </p> + <p> + She knew all about me from Carlos. The man of whom I had seen only the top + of his head, turned his chair suddenly and glinted at me with little blue + eyes. He was rather small and round, with very firm flesh, and very white, + plump hands. He was dressed in the black clothes of a Spanish judge. On + his round face there was always a smile like that which hangs around the + jaws of a pike—only more humorous. He bowed a little exaggeratedly + to me and said: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ye are that famous Mr. Kemp.” + </p> + <p> + I said that I imagined him the more famous Señor Juez O’Brien. + </p> + <p> + “It’s little use saying ye arren’t famous,” he said. His voice had the + faint, infinitely sweet twang of certain Irishry; a thing as delicate and + intangible as the scent of lime flowers. “Our noble friend”—he + indicated Carlos with a little flutter of one white hand—“has told + me what make of a dare-devil gallant ye are; breaking the skulls of half + the Bow Street runners for the sake of a friend in distress. Well, I + honour ye for it; I’ve done as much myself.” He added, “In the old days,” + and sighed. + </p> + <p> + “You mean in the ’98,” I said, a little insolently. + </p> + <p> + O’Brien’s eyes twinkled. He had, as a matter of fact, nearly lost his neck + in the Irish fiasco, either in Clonmel or Sligo, bolting violently from + the English dragoons, in the mist, to a French man-of-war’s boats in the + bay. To him, even though he was now a judge in Cuba, it was an episode of + heroism of youth—of romance, in fact. So that, probably, he did not + resent my mention of it. I certainly wanted to resent something that was + slighting in his voice, and patronizing in his manner. + </p> + <p> + The old Don slumbered placidly, his face turned up to the distant begrimed + ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I’ll make you a fair offer,” O’Brien said suddenly, after an intent + study of the insolent glance that I gave him. I disliked him because I + knew nothing about the sort of man he was. He was, as a matter of fact, + more alien to me than Carlos. And he gave me the impression that, if + perhaps he were not absolutely the better man, he could still make a fool + of me, or at least make me look like a fool. + </p> + <p> + “I’m told you are a Separationist,” he said. “Well, it’s like me. I am an + Irishman; there has been a price on my head in another island. And there + are warrants out against you here for assaulting the admiral. We can work + together, and there’s nothing low in what I have in mind for you.” + </p> + <p> + He had heard frequently from Carlos that I was a desperate and + aristocratically lawless young man, who had lived in a district entirely + given up to desperate and murderous smugglers. But this was the first I + had heard definitely of warrants against me in Jamaica. That, no doubt, he + had heard from Ramon, who knew everything. In all this little sardonic + Irishman said to me, it seemed the only thing worth attention. It stuck in + my mind while, in persuasive tones, and with airy fluency, he discoursed + of the profits that could be made, nowadays, in arming privateers under + the Mexican flag. He told me I needn’t be surprised at their being fitted + out in a Spanish colony. “There’s more than one aspect to disloyalty like + this,” said he dispassionately, but with a quick wink contrasting with his + tone. + </p> + <p> + Spain resented our recognition of their rebellious colonies. And with the + same cool persuasiveness, relieved by humorous smiles, he explained that + the loyal Spaniards of the Ever Faithful Island thought there was no sin + in doing harm to the English, even under the Mexican flag, whose legal + existence they did not recognize. + </p> + <p> + “Mind ye, it’s an organized thing, I have something to say in it. It hurts + Mr. Canning’s Government at home, the curse of Cromwell on him and them. + They will be dropping some of their own colonies directly. And as you are + a Separationist, small blame to you, and I am an Irishman, we shan’t cry + our eyes out over it. Come, Mr. Kemp, ’tis all for the good of the + Cause.... And there’s nothing <i>low</i>. You are a gentleman, and I + wouldn’t propose anything that was. The very best people in Havana are + interested in the matter. Our schooners lie in Rio Medio, but I can’t be + there all the time myself.” + </p> + <p> + Surprise deprived me of speech. I glanced at Carlos. He was watching us + inscrutably. The young girl touched the lizard gently, but it was too + frightened to move. O’Brien, with shrewd glances, rocked his chair.... + What did I want? he inquired. To see life? What he proposed was the life + for a fine young fellow like me. Moreover, I was half Scotch. Had I + forgotten the wrongs of my own country? Had I forgotten the ’45? + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have heard tell of a Scotch Chief Justice whose son spent in + Amsterdam the money his father earned on the justice seat in Edinb’ro’—money + paid for rum and run silks ...” + </p> + <p> + Of course I had heard of it; everybody had; but it had been some years + before. + </p> + <p> + “We’re backwards hereabouts,” O’Brien jeered. “But over there they winked + and chuckled at the judge, and they do the same in Havana at us.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly from behind us the voice of the young girl said, “Of what do you + discourse, my English cousin?” + </p> + <p> + O’Brien interposed deferentially. “Señorita, I ask him to come to Rio,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + She turned her large dark eyes scrutinizingly upon me, then dropped them + again. She was arranging some melon seeds in a rayed circle round the + lizard that looked motionlessly at her. + </p> + <p> + “Do not speak very loudly, lest you awaken my father,” she warned us. + </p> + <p> + The old Don’s face was still turned to the ceiling. Carlos, standing + behind his chair, opened his mouth a little in a half smile. I was really + angry with O’Brien by that time, with his air of omniscience, superiority, + and self-content, as if he were talking to a child or someone very + credulous and weak-minded. + </p> + <p> + “What right have you to speak for me, Señor Juez?” I said in the best + Spanish I could. + </p> + <p> + The young girl looked at me once more, and then again looked down. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can speak for you,” he answered in English, “because I know. Your + position’s this.” He sat down in his rocking chair, crossed his legs, and + looked at me as if he expected me to show signs of astonishment at his + knowing so much. “You’re in a hole. You must leave this island of Jamaica—surely + it’s as distressful as my own dear land—and you can’t go home, + because the runners would be after you. You’re ‘wanted’ here as well as + there, and you’ve nowhere to go.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at him, quite startled by this view of my case. He extended one + plump hand towards me, and still further lowered his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I offer you a good berth, a snug berth. And ’tis a pretty spot.” He + got a sort of languorous honey into his voice, and drawled out, “The—the + Señorita’s.” He took an air of businesslike candour. “You can help us, and + we you; we could do without you better than you without us. Our + undertaking—there’s big names in it, just as in the Free Trading you + know so well, don’t be saying you don’t—is worked from Havana. What + we need is a man we can trust. We had one—Nichols. You remember the + mate of the ship you came over in. He was Nicola el Demonio; he won’t be + any longer—I can’t tell you why, it’s too long a story.” + </p> + <p> + I did remember very vividly that cadaverous Nova Scotian mate of the <i>Thames</i>, + who had warned me with truculent menaces against showing my face in Rio + Medio. I remembered his sallow, shiny cheeks, and the exaggerated gestures + of his claw-like hands. + </p> + <p> + O’Brien smiled. “Nichols is alive right enough, but no more good than if + he were dead. And that’s the truth. He pretends his nerve’s gone; he was a + devil among tailors for a time, but he’s taken to crying now. It was when + your blundering old admiral’s boats had to be beaten off that his zeal + cooled. He thinks the British Government will rise in its strength.” There + was a bitter contempt in his voice, but he regained his calm business + tone. “It will do nothing of the sort. I’ve given them those seven poor + devils that had to die to-day without absolution. So Nichols is done for, + as far as we are concerned. I’ve got him put away to keep him from + blabbing. You can have his place—and better than his place. He was + only a sailor, which you are not. However, you know enough of ships, and + what we want is a man with courage, of course, but also a man we can + trust. Any of the Creoles would bolt into the bush the moment they’d five + dollars in hand. We’ll pay you well; a large share of all you take.” + </p> + <p> + I laughed outright. “You’re quite mistaken in your man,” I said. “You are, + really.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head gently, and brushed an invisible speck from his plump + black knees. + </p> + <p> + “You <i>must</i> go somewhere,” he said. “Why not go with us?” + </p> + <p> + I looked at him, puzzled by his tenacity and assurance. + </p> + <p> + “Ramon here has told us you battered the admiral last night; and there’s a + warrant out already against you for attempted murder. You’re hand and + glove with the best of the Separationists in this island, I know, but they + won’t save you from being committed—for rebellion, perhaps. You know + it as well as I do. You were down here to take a passage to-day, weren’t + you, now?” + </p> + <p> + I remembered that the Island Loyalists said that the pirates and + Separationists worked together to bother the admiral and raise discontent. + Living in the centre of Separationist discontent with the Macdonalds, I + knew it was not true. But nothing was too bad to say against the planters + who clamoured for union with the United States. + </p> + <p> + O’Brien leaned forward. His voice had a note of disdain, and then took one + of deeper earnestness; it sank into his chest. He extended his hand; his + eyebrows twitched. He looked—he was—a conspirator. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I do it for the sake of Ireland,” he said passionately. “Every + ship we take, every clamour they raise here, is a stroke and is disgrace + for them over there that have murdered us and ruined my own dear land.” + His face worked convulsively; I was in the presence of one of the primeval + passions. But he grew calm immediately after. “<i>You</i> want Separation + for reasons of your own. I don’t ask what they are. No doubt you and your + crony Macdonald and the rest of them will feather your own nests; I don’t + ask. But help me to be a thorn in their sides—just a little—just + a little longer. What do I put in your way? Just what you want. Have your + Jamaica joined to the United States. You’ll be able to come back with your + pockets full, and I’ll be joyful—for the sake of my own dear land.” + </p> + <p> + I said suddenly and recklessly—if I had to face one race-passion, he + had to look at another; we were cat and dog—Celt and Saxon, as it + was in the beginning: “I am not a traitor to my country.” Then I realized + with sudden concern that I had probably awakened the old Don. He stirred + uneasily in his chair, and lifted one hand. + </p> + <p> + “The moment I go out from here I’ll denounce you,” I said very low; “I + swear I will. You’re here; you can’t get away; you’ll swing.” + </p> + <p> + O’Brien started. His eyes blazed at me. Then he frowned. “I’ve been + misled,” he muttered, with a dark glance at Carlos. And recovering his + jocular serenity, “Ye mean it?” he asked; “it’s not British heroics?” + </p> + <p> + The old Don stirred again and sighed. The young girl glided swiftly to his + side. “Señor O’Brien,” she said, “you have so irritated my English cousin + that he has awakened my father.” + </p> + <p> + O’Brien grinned gently. “’Tis ever the way,” he said sardonically. “The + English fools do the harm and the Irish fool gets the kicking.” He rose to + his feet, quite collected, a spick-and-span little man. “I suppose I’ve + said too much. Well, well! You are going to denounce the senior judge of + the Marine Court of Havana as a pirate. I wonder who will believe you!” He + went behind the old Don’s chair with the gliding motion of a Spanish + lawyer, and slipped down the open trap-hatch near the window. + </p> + <p> + It was the disappearance of a shadow. I heard some guttural mutterings + come up through the hatch, a rustling, then silence. If he was afraid of + me at all he carried it off very well. I apologized to the young girl for + having awakened her father. Her colour was very high, and her eyes + sparkled. If she had not been so very beautiful I should have gone away at + once. She said angrily: + </p> + <p> + “He is odious to me, the Señor Juez. Too long my father has suffered his + insolence.” She was very small, but she had an extraordinary dignity of + command. “I could see, Señor, that he was annoying you. Why should you + consider such a creature?” Her head drooped. “But my father is very old.” + </p> + <p> + I turned upon Carlos, who stood all black in the light of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you make me meet him? He may be a judge of your Marine Court, but + he’s nothing but a scoundrelly bog-trotter.” + </p> + <p> + Carlos said a little haughtily, “You must not denounce him. You should not + leave this place if I feared you would try thus to bring dishonour on this + gray head, and involve this young girl in a public scandal.” His manner + became soft. “For the honour of the house you shall say nothing. And you + shall come with us. I need you.” + </p> + <p> + I was full of mistrust now. If he did countenance this unlawful + enterprise, whose headquarters were in Rio Medio, he was not the man for + me. Though it was big enough to be made, by the papers at home, of + political importance, it was, after all, neither more nor less than + piracy. The idea of my turning a sort of Irish traitor was so + extravagantly outrageous that now I could smile at the imbecility of that + fellow O’Brien. As to turning into a sea-thief for lucre—my blood + boiled. + </p> + <p> + No. There was something else there. Something deep; something dangerous; + some intrigue, that I could not conceive even the first notion of. But + that Carlos wanted anxiously to make use of me for some purpose was clear. + I was mystified to the point of forgetting how heavily I was compromised + even in Jamaica, though it was worth remembering, because at that time an + indictment for rebellion—under the Black Act—was no joking + matter. I might be sent home under arrest; and even then, there was my + affair with the runners. + </p> + <p> + “It is coming to pay a visit,” he was saying persuasively, “while your + affair here blows over, my Juan—and—and—making my last + hours easy, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at him; he was worn to a shadow—a shadow with dark wistful + eyes. “I don’t understand you,” I faltered. + </p> + <p> + The old man stirred, opened his lids, and put a gold vinaigrette to his + nostrils. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I shall not denounce O’Brien,” I said. “I, too, respect the + honour of your house.” + </p> + <p> + “You are even better than I thought you. And if I entreat you, for the + love of your mother—of your sister? Juan, it is not for myself, it + is———” + </p> + <p> + The young girl was pouring some drops from a green phial into a silver + goblet; she passed close to us, and handed it to her father, who had leant + a little forward in his chair. Every movement of hers affected me with an + intimate joy; it was as if I had been waiting to see just that carriage of + the neck, just that proud glance from the eyes, just that droop of + eyelashes upon the cheeks, for years and years. + </p> + <p> + “No, I shall hold my tongue, and that’s enough,” I said. + </p> + <p> + At that moment the old Don sat up and cleared his throat. Carlos sprang + towards him with an infinite grace of tender obsequiousness. He mentioned + my name and the relationship, then rehearsed the innumerable titles of his + uncle, ending “and patron of the Bishopric of Pinar del Rio.” + </p> + <p> + I stood stiffly in front of the old man. He bowed his head at intervals, + holding the silver cup carefully whilst his chair rocked a little. When + Carlos’ mellow voice had finished the rehearsing of the sonorous styles, I + mumbled something about “transcendent honour.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped me with a little, deferentially peremptory gesture of one hand, + and began to speak, smiling with a contraction of the lips and a trembling + of the head. His voice was very low, and quavered slightly, but every + syllable was enunciated with the same beauty of clearness that there was + in his features, in his hands, in his ancient gestures. + </p> + <p> + “The honour is to me,” he said, “and the pleasure. I behold my kinsman, + who, with great heroism, I am told, rescued my dearly loved nephew from + great dangers; it is an honour to me to be able to give him thanks. My + beloved and lamented sister contracted a union with an English hidalgo, + through whose house your own very honourable family is allied to my own; + it is a pleasure to me to meet after many years with one who has seen the + places where her later life was passed.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and breathed with some difficulty, as if the speech had + exhausted him. Afterwards he began to ask me questions about Rooksby’s + aunt—the lamented sister of his speech. He had loved her greatly, he + said. I knew next to nothing about her, and his fine smile and courtly, + aged, deferential manners made me very nervous. I felt as if I had been + taken to pay a ceremonial visit to a supreme pontiff in his dotage. He + spoke about Horton Priory with some animation for a little while, and then + faltered, and forgot what he was speaking of. Suddenly he said: + </p> + <p> + “But where is O’Brien? Did he write to the Governor here? I should like + you to know the Señor O’Brien. He is a spiritual man.” + </p> + <p> + I forbore to say that I had already seen O’Brien, and the old man sank + into complete silence. It was beginning to grow dark, and the noise of + suppressed voices came from the open trap-door. Nobody said anything. + </p> + <p> + I felt a sort of uneasiness; I could by no means understand the connection + between the old Don and what had gone before, and I did not, in a purely + conventional sense, know how long I ought to stop. The sky through the + barred windows had grown pallid. + </p> + <p> + The old Don said suddenly, “You must visit my poor town of Rio Medio,” but + he gave no specific invitation and said nothing more. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards he asked, rather querulously, “But where is O’Brien? He must + write those letters for me.” + </p> + <p> + The young girl said, “He has preceded us to the ship; he will write + there.” + </p> + <p> + She had gone back to her seat. Don Balthasar shrugged his shoulders to his + ears, and moved his hands from his knees. + </p> + <p> + “Without doubt, he knows best,” he said, “but he should ask me.” + </p> + <p> + It grew darker still; the old Don seemed to have fallen asleep again. Save + for the gleam of the silver buckle of his hat, he had disappeared into the + gloom of the place. I remembered my engagement to dine with Williams on + board the <i>Lion</i>, and I rose to my feet. There did not seem to be any + chance of my talking to the young girl. She was once more leaning + nonchalantly over the lizard, and her hair drooped right across her face + like clusters of grapes. There was a gleam on a little piece of white + forehead, and all around and about her there were shadows deepening. + Carlos came concernedly towards me as I looked at the door. + </p> + <p> + “But you must not go yet,” he said a little suavely; “I have many things + to say. Tell me——” + </p> + <p> + His manner heightened my uneasiness to a fear. The expression of his eyes + changed, and they became fixed over my shoulder, while on his lips the + words “You must come, you must come,” trembled, hardly audible. I could + only shake my head. At once he stepped back as if resigning. He was giving + me up—and it occurred to me that if the danger of his seduction was + over, there remained the danger of arrest just outside the door. + </p> + <p> + Some one behind me said peremptorily, “It is time,” and there was a + flickering diminution of the light. I had a faint instantaneous view of + the old Don dozing, with his head back—of the tall windows, cut up + into squares by the black bars. Something hairily coarse ran harshly down + my face; I grew blind; my mouth, my eyes, my nostrils were filled with + dust; my breath shut in upon me became a flood of warm air. I had no time + to resist. I kicked my legs convulsively; my elbows were drawn tight + against my sides. Someone grunted under my weight; then I was carried—down, + along, up, down again; my feet were knocking along a wall, and the top of + my head rubbed occasionally against what must have been the roof of a low + stone passage, issuing from under the back room of Ramon’s store. Finally, + I was dropped upon something that felt like a heap of wood-shavings. My + surprise, rage, and horror had been so great that, after the first stifled + cry, I had made no sound. I heard the footsteps of several men going away. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h3> + <p> + I remained lying there, bound hand and foot, for a long time; for quite + long enough to allow me to collect my senses and see that I had been a + fool to threaten O’Brien. I had been nobly indignant, and behold! I had a + sack thrown over my head for my pains, and was put away safely somewhere + or other. It seemed to be a cellar. + </p> + <p> + I was in search of romance, and here were all the elements; Spaniards, a + conspirator, and a kidnapping; but I couldn’t feel a fool and romantic as + well. True romance, I suppose, needs a whirl of emotions to extinguish all + the senses except that of sight, which it dims. Except for sight, which I + hadn’t at all, I had the use of them all, and all reported unpleasant + things. + </p> + <p> + I ached and smarted with my head in a sack, with my mouth full of flour + that had gone mouldy and offended my nostrils; I had a sense of ignominy, + and I was extremely angry; I could see that the old Don was in his dotage—but + Carlos I was bitter against. + </p> + <p> + I was not really afraid; I could not suppose that the Riegos would allow + me to be murdered or seriously maltreated. But I was incensed against Fate + or Chance or whatever it is—on account of the ignominious details, + the coarse sack, the mouldy flour, the stones of the tunnel that had + barked my shins, the tightness of the ropes that bound my ankles together, + and seemed to cut into my wrists behind my back. + </p> + <p> + I waited, and my fury grew in a dead silence. How would it end—with + what outrage? I would show my contempt and preserve my dignity by + submitting without a struggle—I despised this odious plot. At last + there were voices, footsteps; I found it very hard to carry out my + resolution and refrain from stifled cries and kicks. I was lifted up and + carried, like a corpse, with many stumbles, by men who sometimes growled + as they hastened along. From time to time somebody murmured, “Take care.” + Then I was deposited into a boat. The world seemed to be swaying, + splashing, jarring—and it became obvious to me that I was being + taken to some ship. The Spanish ship, of course. Suddenly I broke into + cold perspiration at the thought that, after all, their purpose might be + to drop me quickly overboard. “Carlos!” I cried. I felt the point of a + knife on my breast. “Silence, Señor!” said a gruff voice. + </p> + <p> + This fear vanished when we came alongside a ship evidently already under + way; but I was handled so roughly and clumsily that I was thoroughly + exhausted and out of breath, by the time I was got on board. All was still + around me; I was left alone on a settee in the main cabin, as I imagined. + For a long time I made no movement; then a door opened and shut. There was + a murmured conversation between two voices. This went on in animated + whispers for a time. At last I felt as if someone were trying, rather + ineffectually, to remove the sack itself. Finally, that actually did rub + its way over my head, and something soft and silken began to wipe my eyes + with a surprising care, and even tenderness. “This was stupidly done,” + came a discontented remark; “you do not handle a <i>caballero</i> like + this.” + </p> + <p> + “And how else was it to be done, to that kind of <i>caballero?</i>” was + the curt retort. + </p> + <p> + By that time I had blinked my eyes into a condition for remaining open for + minute stretches. Two men were bending over me—Carlos and O’Brien + himself. The latter said: + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, your mistake made this necessary. This young gentleman was + about to become singularly inconvenient, and he is in no way harmed.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke in a velvety voice, and walked away gently through the darkness. + Carlos followed with the lanthorn dangling at arm’s length; strangely + enough he had not even looked at me. I suppose he was ashamed, and I was + too proud to speak to him, with my hands and feet tied fast. The door + closed, and I remained sitting in the darkness. Long small windows grew + into light at one end of the place, curved into an outline that suggested + a deep recess. The figure of a crowned woman, that moved rigidly up and + down, was silhouetted over my body. Groaning creaks of wood and the faint + swish of water made themselves heard continuously. + </p> + <p> + I turned my head to a click, I saw a door open a little way, and the small + blue flame of a taper floated into the room. Then the door closed with a + definite sound of shutting in. The light shone redly through protecting + fingers, and upwards on to a small face. It came to a halt, and I made out + the figure of a girl leaning across a table and looking upwards. There was + a click of glass, and then a great blaze of light created a host of + shining things; a glitter of gilded carvings, red velvet couches, a + shining table, a low ceiling, painted white, on carved rafters. A large + silver lamp she had lighted kept on swinging to the gentle motion of the + ship. + </p> + <p> + She stood just in front of me; the girl that I had seen through the door; + the girl I had seen play with the melon seeds. She was breathing fast—it + agitated me to be alone with her—and she had a little shining dagger + in her hand. + </p> + <p> + She cut the rope round my ankles, and motioned me imperiously to turn + round. “Your hands—your hands!” + </p> + <p> + I turned my back awkwardly to her, and felt the grip of small, cool, very + firm fingers upon my wrists. My arms fell apart, numb and perfectly + useless; I was half aware of pain in them, but it passed unnoticed among a + cloud of other emotions. I didn’t feel my finger-tips because I had the + agitation, the flutter, the tantalization of looking at her. + </p> + <p> + I was all the while conscious of the—say, the irregularity of my + position, but I felt very little fear. There were the old Don, an + ineffectual, silver-haired old gentleman, who obviously was not a pirate; + the sleek O’Brien, and Carlos, who seemed to cough on the edge of a grave—and + this young girl. There was not any future that I could conceive, and the + past seemed to be cut off from me by a narrow, very dark tunnel through + which I could see nothing at all. + </p> + <p> + The young girl was, for the moment, what counted most on the whole, the + only thing the eye could rest on. She affected me as an apparition + familiar, yet absolutely new in her charm. I had seen her gray eyes; I had + seen her red lips; her dark hair, her lithe gestures; the carriage of her + head; her throat, her hands. I knew her; I seemed to have known her for + years. A rush of strange, sweet feeling made me dumb. She was looking at + me, her lips set, her eyes wide and still; and suddenly she said: + </p> + <p> + “Ask nothing. The land is not far yet. You can escape, Carlos thought.... + But no! You would only perish for nothing. Go with God.” She pointed + imperiously towards the square stern-ports of the cabin. + </p> + <p> + Following the direction of her hand, my eyes fell upon the image of a + Madonna; rather large—perhaps a third life-size; with a gilt crown, + a pink serious face bent a little forward over a pink naked child that + perched on her left arm and raised one hand. It stood on a bracket, + against the rudder casing, with fat cherubs’ heads carved on the supports. + The young girl crossed herself with a swift motion of the hand. The + stern-ports, glazed in small panes, were black, and gleaming in a white + frame-work. + </p> + <p> + “Go—go—go with God,” the girl whispered urgently. “There is a + boat———-” + </p> + <p> + I made a motion to rise; I wanted to go. The idea of having my liberty, of + its being again a possibility, made her seem of less importance; other + things began to have their share. But I could not stand, though the blood + was returning, warm and tingling, in my legs and hands. She looked at me + with a sharp frown puckering her brows a little; beat a hasty tattoo with + one of her feet, and cast a startled glance towards the forward door that + led on deck. Then she walked to the other side of the table, and sat + looking at me in the glow of the lamp. + </p> + <p> + “Your life hangs on a thread,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + I answered, “You have given it to me. Shall I never———-?” + I was acutely conscious of the imperfection of my language. + </p> + <p> + She looked at me sharply; then lowered her lids. Afterwards she raised + them again. “Think of yourself. Every moment is———-” + </p> + <p> + “I will be as quick as I can,” I said. + </p> + <p> + I was chafing my ankles and looking up at her. I wanted, very badly, to + thank her for taking an interest in me, only I found it very difficult to + speak to her. Suddenly she sprang to her feet: + </p> + <p> + “That man thinks he can destroy you. I hate him—I detest him! You + have seen how he treats my father.” + </p> + <p> + It struck me, like a blow, that she was merely avenging O’Brien’s + insolence to her father. I had been kidnapped against Don Balthasar + Riego’s will. It gave me very well the measure of the old man’s + powerlessness in face of his intendant—who was obviously confident + of afterwards soothing the resentment. + </p> + <p> + I was glad I had not thanked her for taking an interest in me. I was + distressed, too, because once more I had missed Romance by an inch. + </p> + <p> + Someone kicked at the locked door. A voice cried—I could not help + thinking—warningly, “Seraphina, Seraphina,” and another voice said + with excessive softness, “<i>Senorita! Voyons! quelle folie</i>.” + </p> + <p> + She sprang at me. Her hand hurt my wrist as she dragged me aft. I + scrambled clumsily into the recess of the counter, and put my head out. + The night air was very chilly and full of brine; a little boat towing by a + long painter was sheering about in the phosphorescent wake of the ship. + The sea itself was pallid in the light of the moon, invisible to me. A + little astern of us, on our port quarter, a vessel under a press of canvas + seemed to stand still; looming up like an immense pale ghost. She might + have been coming up with us, or else we had just passed her—I + couldn’t tell. I had no time to find out, and I didn’t care. The great + thing was to get hold of the painter. The whispers of the girl urged me, + but the thing was not easy; the rope, fastened higher up, streamed away + out of reach of my hand. At last, by watching the moment when it slacked, + and throwing myself half out of the stern window, I managed to hook it + with my finger-tips. Next moment it was nearly jerked away from me, but I + didn’t lose it, and the boat taking a run just then under the counter, I + got a good hold. The sound of another kick at the door made me swing + myself out, head first, without reflection. I got soused to the waist + before I had reached the bows of the boat. With a frantic effort I + clambered up and rolled in. When I got on my legs, the jerky motion of + tossing had ceased, the boat was floating still, and the light of the + stern windows was far away already. The girl had managed to cut the + painter. + </p> + <p> + The other vessel was heading straight for me, rather high on the water, + broad-beamed, squat, and making her way quietly, like a shadow. The land + might have been four or five miles away—I had no means of knowing + exactly. It looked like a high black cloud, and purple-gray mists here and + there among the peaks hung like scarves. + </p> + <p> + I got an oar over the stern to scull, but I was not fit for much exertion. + I stared at the ship I had left. Her stern windows glimmered with a slight + up-and-down motion; her sails seemed to fall into black confusion against + the blaze of the moon; faint cries came to me out of her, and by the + alteration of her shape I understood that she was being brought to, + preparatory to lowering a boat. She might have been half a mile distant + when the gleam of her stern windows swung slowly round and went out. I had + no mind to be recaptured, and began to scull frantically towards the other + vessel. By that time she was quite near—near enough for me to hear + the lazy sound of the water at her bows, and the occasional flutter of a + sail. The land breeze was dying away, and in the wake of the moon I + perceived the boat of my pursuers coming over, black and distinct; but the + other vessel was nearly upon me. I sheered under her starboard bow and + yelled, “Ship ahoy! Ship ahoy!” + </p> + <p> + There was a lot of noise on board, and no one seemed to hear my shouts. + Several voices yelled. “That cursed Spanish ship ahead is heaving-to + athwart our hawse.” The crew and the officers seemed all to be forward + shouting abuse at the “lubberly Dago,” and it looked as though I were + abandoned to my fate. The ship forged ahead in the light air; I failed in + my grab at her fore chains, and my boat slipped astern, bumping against + the side. I missed the main chain, too, and yelled all the time with + desperation, “For God’s sake! Ship ahoy! For God’s sake throw me a rope, + some-, body, before it’s too late!” + </p> + <p> + I was giving up all hope when a heavy coil—of a brace, I suppose—fell + upon my head, nearly knocking me over. Half stunned as I was, desperation + lent me strength to scramble up her side hand over hand, while the boat + floated away from under my feet. I was done up when I got on the poop. A + yell came from forward, “Hard aport.” Then the same voice addressed itself + to abusing the Spanish ship very close to us now. “What do you mean by + coming-to right across my bows like this?” it yelled in a fury. + </p> + <p> + I stood still in the shadows on the poop. We were drawing slowly past the + stern of the Spaniard, and O’Brien’s voice answered in English: + </p> + <p> + “We are picking up a boat of ours that’s gone adrift with a man. Have you + seen anything of her?” “No—confound you and your boat.” Of course + those forward knew nothing of my being on board. The man who had thrown me + the rope—a passenger, a certain Major Cowper, going home with his + wife and child—had walked away proudly, without deigning as much as + to look at me twice, as if to see a man clamber on board a ship ten miles + from the land was the most usual occurrence. He was, I found afterwards, + an absurd, pompous person, as stiff as a ramrod, and so full of his own + importance that he imagined he had almost demeaned himself by his + condescension in throwing down the rope in answer to my despairing cries. + On the other hand, the helmsman, the only other person aft, was so + astounded as to become quite speechless. I could see, in the light of the + binnacle thrown upon his face, his staring eyes and his open mouth. + </p> + <p> + The voice forward had subsided by then, and as the stern of the Spanish + ship came abreast of the poop, I stepped out of the shadow of the sails, + and going close to the rail I said, not very loud—there was no need + to shout—but very distinctly: + </p> + <p> + “I am out of your clutches, Mr. O’Brien, after all. I promise you that you + shall hear of me yet.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, another man had come up from forward on the poop, growling like + a bear, a short, rotund little man, the captain of the ship. The Spanish + vessel was dropping astern, silent, with her sails all black, hiding the + low moon. Suddenly a hurried hail came out of her. + </p> + <p> + “What ship is this?” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that to you, blank your eyes? The <i>Breeze</i>, if you want to + know. What are you going to do about it?” the little skipper shouted + fiercely. In the light wind the ships were separating slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you bound to?” hailed O’Brien’s voice again. + </p> + <p> + The little skipper laughed with exasperation. “Dash your blanked + impudence. To Havana, and be hanged to you. Anything more you want to + know? And my name’s Lumsden, and I am sixty years old, and if I had you + here, I would put a head on you for getting in my way, you———” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, out of breath. Then, addressing himself to his passenger: + </p> + <p> + “That’s the Spanish chartered ship that brought these sanguinary pirates + that were hanged this morning, major. She’s taking the Spanish + commissioner back. I suppose they had no man-of-war handy for the service + in Cuba. Did you ever———” + </p> + <p> + He had caught sight of me for the first time, and positively jumped a foot + high with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Who on earth’s that there?” + </p> + <p> + His astonishment was comprehensible. The major, Without deigning to + enlighten him, walked proudly away. He was too dignified a person to + explain. + </p> + <p> + It was left to me. Frequenting, as I had been doing, Ramon’s store, which + was a great gossiping centre of the maritime world in Kingston, I knew the + faces and the names of most of the merchant captains who used to gather + there to drink and swap yarns. I was not myself quite unknown to little + Lumsden. I told him all my story, and all the time he kept on scratching + his bald head, full of incredulous perplexity. Old Señor Ramon! Such a + respectable man. And I had been kidnapped? From his store! + </p> + <p> + “If I didn’t see you here in my cuddy before my eyes, I wouldn’t believe a + word you say,” he declared absurdly. + </p> + <p> + But he was ready enough to take me to Havana. However, he insisted upon + calling down his mate, a gingery fellow, short, too, but wizened, and as + stupid as himself. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s that Kemp, you know. The young fellow that Macdonald of the Horton + Pen picked up somewhere two years ago. The Spaniards in that ship + kidnapped him—so he says. He says they are pirates. But that’s a + government chartered ship, and all the pirates that have ever been in her + were hanged this morning in Kingston. But here he is, anyhow. And he says + that at home he had throttled a Bow Street runner before he went off with + the smugglers. Did you ever hear the likes of it, Mercer? I shouldn’t + think he was telling us a parcel of lies; hey, Mercer?” + </p> + <p> + And the two grotesque little chaps stood nodding their heads at me + sagaciously. + </p> + <p> + “He’s a desperate character, then,” said Mercer at last, cautiously. “This + morning, the very last thing I heard ashore, as I went to fetch the fresh + beef off, is that he had been assaulting a justice of the peace on the + highroad, and had been trying to knock down the admiral, who was coming + down to town in a chaise with Mr. Topnambo. There’s a warrant out against + him under the Black Act, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Then he brightened up considerably. “So he must have been kidnapped or + something after all, sir, or he would be in chokey now.” + </p> + <p> + It was true, after all. Romance reserved me for another fate, for another + sort of captivity, for more than one sort. And my imagination had been + captured, enslaved already by the image of that young girl who had called + me her English cousin, the girl with the lizard, the girl with the dagger! + And with every word she uttered romance itself, if I had only known it, + the romance of persecuted lovers, spoke to me through her lips. + </p> + <p> + That night the Spanish ship had the advantage of us in a freshening wind, + and overtook the <i>Breeze</i>. Before morning dawned she passed us, and + before the close of the next day she was gone out of sight ahead, + steering, apparently, the same course with ourselves. + </p> + <p> + Her superior sailing had an enormous influence upon my fortunes; and I was + more adrift in the world than ever before, more in the dark as to what + awaited me than when I was lugged along with my head in a sack. I gave her + but little thought. A sort of numbness had come over me. I could think of + the girl who had cut me free, and for all my resentment at the indignity + of my treatment, I had hardly a thought to spare for the man who had me + bound. I was pleased to remember that she hated him; that she had said so + herself. For the rest, I had a vague notion of going to the English Consul + in Havana. After all, I was not a complete nobody. I was John Kemp, a + gentleman, well connected; I could prove it. The Bow Street runner had not + been dead as I had thought. The last letter from Veronica informed me that + the man had given up thief-catching, and was keeping, now, a little inn in + the neighbourhood. Ralph, my brother-in-law, had helped him to it, no + doubt. I could come home safely now. + </p> + <p> + And I had discovered I was no longer anxious to return home. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h3> + <p> + There wasn’t any weirdness about the ship when I woke in the sunlight. She + was old and slow and rather small. She carried Lumsden (master), Mercer + (mate), a crew that seemed no better and no worse than any other crew, and + the old gentleman who had thrown me the rope the night before, and who + seemed to think that he had derogated from his dignity in doing it. He was + a Major Cowper, retiring from a West Indian regiment, and had with him his + wife and a disagreeable little girl, with a yellow pigtail and a bony + little chest and arms. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, they weren’t the sort of people that one would have chosen + for companions on a pleasure-trip. Major Cowper’s wife lay all day in a + deck chair, alternately drawing to her and repulsing the whining little + girl. The major talked to me about the scandals with which the world was + filled, and kept a suspicious eye upon his wife. He spent the morning in + shaving what part of his face his white whiskers did not cover, the + afternoon in enumerating to me the subjects on which he intended to write + to the Horse Guards. He had grown entirely amiable, perhaps for the reason + that his wife ignored my existence. + </p> + <p> + Meantime I let the days slip by idly, only wondering how I could manage to + remain in Havana and breathe the air of the same island with the girl who + had delivered me. Perhaps some day we might meet—who knows? I was + not afraid of that Irishman. + </p> + <p> + It never occurred to me to bother about the course we were taking, till + one day we sighted the Cuban coast, and I heard Lumsden and Mercer + pronounce the name of Rio Medio. The two ridiculous old chaps talked of + Mexican privateers, which seemed to rendezvous off that place. They + pointed out to me the headland near the bay. There was no sign of + privateer or pirate, as far as the eye could reach. In the course of + beating up to windward we closed in with the coast, and then the wind + fell. + </p> + <p> + I remained motionless against the rail for half the night, looking at the + land. Not a single light was visible. A wistful, dreamy longing, a quiet + longing pervaded me, as though I had been drugged. I dreamed, as young men + dream, of a girl’s face. She was sleeping there within this dim vision of + land. Perhaps this was as near as I should ever be able to approach her. I + felt a sorrow without much suffering. A great stillness reigned around the + ship, over the whole earth. At last I went below and fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + I was awakened by the idea that I had heard an extraordinary row—shouting + and stamping. But there was a dead silence, to which I was listening with + all my ears. Suddenly there was a little pop, as if someone had spat + rather vigorously; then a succession of shouts, then another little pop, + and more shouts, and the stamping overhead. A woman began to shriek on the + other side of the bulkhead, then another woman somewhere else, then the + little girl. I hurried on deck, but it was some minutes before I could + make things fit together. I saw Major Cowper on the poop; he was + brandishing a little pistol and apostrophizing Lumsden, who was waving + ineffectual arms towards the sky; and there was a great deal of shouting, + forward and overhead. Cowper rushed at me, and explained that something + was an abominable scandal, and that there were women on board. He waved + his pistol towards the side; I noticed that the butt was inlaid with + mother-of-pearl Lumsden rushed at him and clawed at his clothes, imploring + him not to be rash. + </p> + <p> + We were so close in with the coast that the surf along the shore gleamed + and sparkled in full view. + </p> + <p> + Someone shouted aloft, “Look out! They are firing again.” + </p> + <p> + Then only I noticed, a quarter of a mile astern and between the land and + us, a little schooner, rather low in the water, curtseying under a cloud + of white canvas—a wonderful thing to look at. It was as if I had + never seen anything so instinct with life and the joy of it. A snowy + streak spattered away from her bows at each plunge. She came at a great + speed, and a row of faces looking our way became plain, like a beady + decoration above her bulwarks. She swerved a little out of her course, and + a sort of mushroom of smoke grew out of her side; there was a little gleam + of smouldering light hidden in its heart. The spitting bang followed + again, and something skipped along the wave-tops beside us, raising little + pillars of spray that drifted away on the wind. The schooner came back on + her course, heading straight for us; a shout like groaned applause went up + from on board us. Lumsden hid his face in his hands. + </p> + <p> + I could hear little Mercer shrieking out orders forwards. We were + shortening sail. The schooner, luffing a little, ranged abreast. A hail + like a metal blare came out of her. + </p> + <p> + “If you donn’d heef-to we seenk you! We seenk you! By God!” + </p> + <p> + Major Cowper was using abominable language beside me. Suddenly he began to + call out to someone: + </p> + <p> + “Go down... go down, I say.” + </p> + <p> + A woman’s face disappeared into the hood of the companion like a rabbit’s + tail into its burrow. There was a great volley of cracks from the loose + sails, and the ship came to. At the same time the schooner, now on our + beam and stripped of her light kites, put in stays and remained on the + other tack, with her foresheet to windward. + </p> + <p> + Major Cowper said it was a scandal. The country was going to the dogs + because merchantmen were not compelled by law to carry guns. He spluttered + into my ears that there wasn’t so much as a twopenny signal mortar on + board, and no more powder than enough to load one of his duelling pistols. + He was going to write to the Horse Guards. + </p> + <p> + A blue-and-white ensign fluttered up to the main gaff of the schooner; a + boat dropped into the water. It all went breathlessly—I hadn’t time + to think. I saw old Cowper run to the side and aim his pistol overboard; + there was an ineffectual click; he made a gesture of disgust, and tossed + it on deck. His head hung dejectedly down upon his chest. + </p> + <p> + Lumsden said, “Thank God, oh, thank God!” and the old man turned on him + like a snarling dog. + </p> + <p> + “You infernal coward,” he said. “Haven’t you got a spark of courage?” + </p> + <p> + A moment after, our decks were invaded by men, brown and ragged, leaping + down from the bulwarks one after the other. + </p> + <p> + They had come out at break of day (we must have been observed the evening + before), a big schooner—full of as ill-favoured, ragged rascals as + the most vivid imagination could conceive. Of course, there had been no + resistance on our part. We were outsailed, and at the first ferocious hail + the halyards had been let go by the run, and all our crew had bolted + aloft. A few bronzed bandits posted abreast of each mast kept them there + by the menace of bell-mouthed blunderbusses pointed upwards. Lumsden and + Mercer had been each tied flat down to a spare spar. They presented an + appearance too ridiculous to awaken genuine compassion. Major Cowper was + made to sit on a hen-coop, and a bearded pirate, with a red handkerchief + tied round his head and a cutlass in his hand, stood guard over him. The + major looked angry and crestfallen. The rest of that infamous crew, + without losing a moment, rushed into the cuddy to loot the cabins for + wearing apparel, jewellery, and money. They squabbled amongst themselves, + throwing the things on deck into a great heap of booty. + </p> + <p> + The schooner flying the Mexican flag remained hove to abeam. But in the + man in command of the boarding party I recognized Tomas Castro! + </p> + <p> + He <i>was</i> a pirate. My surmises were correct. He looked the part to + the life, in a plumed hat, cloaked to the chin, and standing apart in a + saturnine dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to have us all murdered, Castro?” I asked, with + indignation. To my surprise he did not seem to recognize me; indeed, he + pretended not to see me at all. I might have been thin air for any sign he + gave of being aware of my presence; but, turning his back on me, he + addressed himself to the ignobly captive Lumsden, telling him that he, + Castro, was the commander of that Mexican schooner, and menacing him with + dreadful threats of vengeance for what he called the resistance we had + offered to a privateer of the Republic. I suppose he was pleased to + qualify with the name of armed resistance the miserable little pop of the + major’s pocket pistol. To punish that audacity he announced that no + private property would be respected. + </p> + <p> + “You shall have to give up all the money on board,” he yelled at the + wretched man lying there like a sheep ready for slaughter. The other could + only gasp and blink. Castro’s ferocity was so remarkable that for a moment + it struck me as put on. There was no necessity for it. We were meek and + silent enough, only poor Major Cowper muttered: + </p> + <p> + “My wife and child....” + </p> + <p> + The ragged brown men were pouring on deck from below; their arms full of + bundles. Half a dozen of them started to pull off the main hatch + tarpaulin. Up aloft the crew looked down with scared eyes. I began to say + excitedly, in my indignation, almost into his very ear: + </p> + <p> + “I know you, Tomas Castro—I know you—Tomas Castro.” + </p> + <p> + Even then he seemed not to hear; but at last he looked into my face + balefully, as if he wished to convey the plague to me. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue,” he said very quickly in Spanish. “This is folly!” His + little hawk’s beak of a nose nestled in his moustache. He waved his arm + and declared forcibly, “I don’t know you. I am Nicola el Demonio, the + Mexican.” + </p> + <p> + Poor old Cowper groaned. The reputation of Nicola el Demonio, if rumours + were to be trusted, was a horrible thing for a man with women depending on + him. + </p> + <p> + Five or six of these bandits were standing about Lumsden, the major, and + myself, fingering the locks of their guns. Poor old Cowper, breaking away + from his guard, was raging up and down the poop; and the big pirate kept + him off the companion truculently. The major wanted to get below; the + little girl was screaming in the cuddy, and we could hear her very + plainly. It was rather horrible. Castro had gone forward into the crowd of + scoundrels round the hatchway. It was only then that I realized that Major + Cowper was in a state of delirious apprehension and fury; I seemed to + remember at last that for a long time he had been groaning somewhere near + me. He kept on saying: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for God’s sake—for God’s sake—my poor wife.” + </p> + <p> + I understood that he must have been asking me to do something. + </p> + <p> + It came as a shock to me. I had a vague sensation of his fears. Up till + then I hadn’t realized that any one could be much interested in Mrs. + Cowper. + </p> + <p> + He caught hold of my arm, as if he wanted support, and stuttered: + </p> + <p> + “Couldn’t you—couldn’t you speak to———” He nodded + in the direction of Tomas Castro, who was bent and shouting down the + hatch. “Try to———-” the old man gasped. “Didn’t you hear + the child scream?” His face was pallid and wrinkled, like a piece of + crumpled paper; his mouth was drawn on one side, and his lips quivered one + against the other. + </p> + <p> + I went to Castro and caught him by the arm. He spun round and smiled + discreetly. + </p> + <p> + “We shall be using force upon you directly. Pray resist, Señor; but not + too much. What? His wife? Tell that stupid Inglez with whispers that she + is safe.” He whispered with an air of profound intelligence, “We shall be + ready to go as soon as these foul swine have finished their stealing. I + cannot stop them,” he added. + </p> + <p> + I could not pause to think what he might mean. The child’s shrieks + resounding louder and louder, I ran below. There were a couple of men in + the cabin with the women. Mrs. Cowper was lying back upon a sofa, her face + very white and drawn, her eyes wide open. Her useless hands twitched at + her dress; otherwise she was absolutely motionless, like a frozen woman. + The black nurse was panting convulsively in a corner—a palpitating + bundle of orange and purple and white clothes. The child was rushing round + and round, shrieking. The two men did nothing at all. One of them kept + saying in Spanish: + </p> + <p> + “But—we only want your rings. But—we only want your rings.” + </p> + <p> + The other made feeble efforts to catch the child as it rushed past him. He + wanted its earrings—they were contraband of war, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cowper was petrified with terror. Explaining the desires of the two + men was like shouting things into the ear of a very deaf woman. She kept + on saying: + </p> + <p> + “Will they go away then? Will they go away then?” All the while she was + drawing the rings off her thin fingers, and handing them to me. I gave + them to the ruffians whose presence seemed to terrify her out of her + senses. I had no option. I could do nothing else. Then I asked her whether + she wished me to remain with her and the child. She said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes. No. Go away. Yes. No—let me think.” + </p> + <p> + Finally it came into my head that in the captain’s cabin she would be able + to talk to her husband through the deck ventilator, and, after a time, the + idea filtered through to her brain. She could hardly walk at all. The + child and the nurse ran in front of us, and, practically, I carried her + there in my arms. Once in the stateroom she struggled loose from me, and, + rushing in, slammed the door violently in my face. She seemed to hate me. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER SIX + </h3> + <p> + I went on deck again. On the poop about twenty men had surrounded Major + Cowper; his white head was being jerked backwards and forwards above their + bending backs; they had got his old uniform coat off, and were fighting + for the buttons. I had just time to shout to him, “Your wife’s down there, + she’s all right!” when very suddenly I became aware that Tomas Castro was + swearing horribly at these thieves. He drove them away, and we were left + quite alone on the poop, I holding the major’s coat over my arm. Major + Cowper stooped down to call through the skylight. I could hear faint + answers coming up to him. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, some of the rascals left on board the schooner had filled on her + in a light wind, and, sailing round our stern, had brought their vessel + alongside. Ropes were thrown on board and we lay close together, but the + schooner with her dirty decks looked to me, now, very sinister and very + sordid. + </p> + <p> + Then I remembered Castro’s extraordinary words; they suggested infinite + possibilities of a disastrous nature, I could not tell just what. The + explanation seemed to be struggling to bring itself to light, like a name + that one has had for hours on the tip of a tongue without being able to + formulate it. Major Cowper rose stiffly, and limped to my side. He looked + at me askance, then shifted his eyes away. Afterwards, he took his coat + from my arm. I tried to help him, but he refused my aid, and jerked + himself painfully into it. It was too tight for him. Suddenly, he said: + </p> + <p> + “You seem to be deuced intimate with that man—deuced intimate.” + </p> + <p> + His tone caused me more misgiving than I should have thought possible. He + took a turn on the deserted deck; went to the skylight; called down, “All + well, still?” waited, listening with his head on one side, and then came + back to me. + </p> + <p> + “You drop into the ship,” he said, “out of the clouds. Out of the clouds, + I say. You tell us some sort of cock-and-bull story. I say it looks deuced + suspicious.” He took another turn and came back. “My wife says that you + took her rings and—and—gave them to———” + </p> + <p> + He had an ashamed air. It came into my head that that hateful woman had + been egging him on to this through the skylight, instead of saying her + prayers. + </p> + <p> + “Your wife!” I said. “Why, she might have been murdered—if I hadn’t + made her give them up. I believe I saved her life.” + </p> + <p> + He said suddenly, “Tut, tut!” and shrugged his shoulders. He hung his head + for a minute, then he added, “Mind, I don’t say—I don’t say that it + mayn’t be as you say. You’re a very nice young fellow.... But what I say + is—I am a public man—you ought to clear yourself.” He was + beginning to recover his military bearing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t be absurd,” I said. + </p> + <p> + One of the Spaniards came up to me and whispered, “You must come now. We + are going to cast off.” At the same time Tomas Castro prowled to the other + side of the ship, within five yards of us. I called out, “Tomas Castro! + Tomas Castro! I will not go with you.” The man beside me said, “Come, + señor! <i>Vamos!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Castro, stretching his arm out at me, cried, “Come, <i>hombres</i>. + This is the <i>caballero</i>; seize him.” And to me in his broken English + he shouted, “You may resist, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + This was what I meant to do with all my might. The ragged crowd surrounded + me; they chattered like monkeys. One man irritated me beyond conception. + He looked like an inn-keeper in knee-breeches, had a broken nose that + pointed to the left, and a double chin. More of them came running up every + minute. I made a sort of blind rush at the fellow with the broken nose; my + elbow caught him on the soft folds of flesh and he skipped backwards; the + rest scattered in all directions, and then stood at a distance, chattering + and waving their hands. And beyond them I saw old Cowper gesticulating + approval. The man with the double chin drew a knife from his sleeve, + crouched instantly, and sprang at me. I hadn’t fought anybody since I had + been at school; raising my fists was like trying a dubious experiment in + an emergency. I caught him rather hard on the end of his broken nose; I + felt the contact on my right, and a small pain in my left hand. His arms + went up to the sky; his face, too. But I had started forward to meet him, + and half a dozen of them flung their arms round me from behind. + </p> + <p> + I seemed to have an exaggerated clearness of vision; I saw each brown + dirty paw reach out to clutch some part of me. I was not angry any more; + it wasn’t any good being angry, but I made a fight for it. There were + dozens of them; they clutched my wrists, my elbows, and in between my + wrists and my elbows, and my shoulders. One pair of arms was round my + neck, another round my waist, and they kept on trying to catch my legs + with ropes. We seemed to stagger all over the deck; I expect they got in + each other’s way; they would have made a better job of it if they hadn’t + been such a multitude. I must then have got a crack on the head, for + everything grew dark; the night seemed to fall on us, as we fought. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards I found myself lying gasping on my back on the deck of the + schooner; four or five men were holding me down. Castro was putting a + pistol into his belt. He stamped his foot violently, and then went and + shouted in Spanish: + </p> + <p> + “Come you all on board. You have done mischief enough, fools of <i>Lugarenos</i>. + Now we go.” + </p> + <p> + I saw, as in a dream of stress and violence, some men making ready to cast + off the schooner, and then, in a supreme effort, an effort of lusty youth + and strength, which I remember to this day, I scattered men like chaff, + and stood free. + </p> + <p> + For the fraction of a second I stood, ready to fall myself, and looking at + prostrate men. It was a flash of vision, and then I made a bolt for the + rail. I clambered furiously; I saw the deck of the old barque; I had just + one exulting sight of it, and then Major Cowper uprose before my eyes and + knocked me back on board the schooner, tumbling after me himself. + </p> + <p> + Twenty men flung themselves upon my body. I made no movement. The end had + come. I hadn’t the strength to shake off a fly, my heart was bursting my + ribs. I lay on my back and managed to say, “Give me air.” I thought I + should die. + </p> + <p> + Castro, draped in his cloak, stood over me, but Major Cowper fell on his + knees near my head, almost sobbing: “My papers! My papers! I tell you I + shall starve. Make them give me back my papers. They ain’t any use to them—my + pension—mortgages—not worth a penny piece to you.” + </p> + <p> + He crouched over my face, and the Spaniards stood around, wondering. He + begged me to intercede, to save him those papers of the greatest + importance. + </p> + <p> + Castro preserved his attitude of a conspirator. I was touched by the + major’s distress, and at last I condescended to address Castro on his + behalf, though it cost me an effort, for I was angry, indignant, and + humiliated. + </p> + <p> + “Whart—whart? What do I know of his papers? Let him find them.” He + waved his hand loftily. + </p> + <p> + The deck was hillocked with heaps of clothing, of bedding, casks of rum, + old hats, and tarpaulins. Cowper ran in and out among the plunder, like a + pointer in a turnip field. He was groaning. + </p> + <p> + Beside one of the pumps was a small pile of shiny cases; ship’s + instruments, a chronometer in its case, a medicine chest. + </p> + <p> + Cowper tottered at a black dispatch-box. “There, there!” he said; “I tell + you I shall starve if I don’t have it. Ask him—ask him———-” + He was clutching me like a drowning man. + </p> + <p> + Castro raised the inevitable arm towards heaven, letting his round black + cloak fall into folds like those of an umbrella. Cowper gathered that he + might take his japanned dispatch-box; he seized the brass handles and + rushed towards the side, but at the last moment he had the good impulse to + return to me, holding out his hand, and spluttering distractedly, “God + bless you, God bless you.” After a time he remembered that I had rescued + his wife and child, and he asked God to bless me for that too. “If it is + ever necessary,” he said, “on my honour, if you escape, I will come a + thousand miles to testify. On my honour—remember.” He said he was + going to live in Clapham. That is as much as I remember. I was held pinned + down to the deck, and he disappeared from my sight. Before the ships had + separated, I was carried below in the cabin of the schooner. + </p> + <p> + They left me alone there, and I sat with my head on my arms for a long + time, I did not think of anything at all; I was too utterly done up with + my struggles, and there was nothing to be thought about. I had grown to + accept the meanness of things as if I had aged a great deal. I had seen + men scratch each other’s faces over coat buttons, old shoes—over + Mercer’s trousers. My own future did not interest me at this stage. I sat + up and looked round me. + </p> + <p> + I was in a small, bare cabin, roughly wainscotted and exceedingly filthy. + There were the grease-marks from the backs of heads all along a bulkhead + above a wooden bench; the rough table, on which my arms rested, was + covered with layers of tallow spots. Bright light shone through a + porthole. Two or three ill-assorted muskets slanted about round the foot + of the mast—a long old piece, of the time of Pizarro, all red velvet + and silver’ chasing, on a swivelled stand, three English fowling-pieces, + and a coachman’s blunderbuss. A man was rising from a mattress stretched + on the floor; he placed a mandolin, decorated with red favours, on the + greasy table. He was shockingly thin, and so tall that his head disturbed + the candle-soot on the ceiling. He said: “Ah, I was waiting for the + cavalier to awake.” + </p> + <p> + He stalked round the end of the table, slid between it and the side, and + grasped my arm with wrapt earnestness as he settled himself slowly beside + me. He wore a red shirt that had become rather black where his long brown + ringlets fell on his shoulders; it had tarnished gilt buttons ciphered “G. + R.,” stolen, I suppose, from some English ship. + </p> + <p> + “I beg the Señor Caballero to listen to what I have to record,” he said, + with intense gravity. “I cannot bear this much longer—no, I cannot + bear my sufferings much longer.” + </p> + <p> + His face was of a large, classical type; a close-featured, rather long + face, with an immense nose that from the front resembled the section of a + bell; eyebrows like horseshoes, and very large-pupilled eyes that had the + purplish-brown lustre of a horse’s. His air was mournful in the extreme, + and he began to speak resonantly as if his chest were a sounding-board. He + used immensely long sentences, of which I only understood one-half. + </p> + <p> + “What, then, is the difference between me, Manuel-del-Popolo Isturiz, and + this Tomas Castro? The Señor Caballero can tell at once. Look at me. I am + the finer man. I would have you ask the ladies of Rio Medio, and leave the + verdict to them. This Castro is an Andalou—a foreigner. And we, the + braves of Rio Medio, will suffer no foreigner to make headway with our + ladies. Yet this Andalusian is preferred because he is a humble friend of + the great Don, and because he is for a few days given the command. I ask + you, Señor, what is the radical difference between me, the sailing captain + of this vessel, and him, the fighting captain for a few days? Is it not I + that am, as it were, the brains of it, and he only its knife? I ask the + Señor Caballero.” + </p> + <p> + I didn’t in the least know what to answer. His great eyes wistfully + explored my face. I expect I looked bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “I lay my case at your feet,” he continued. “You are to be our chief + leader, and, on account of your illustrious birth and renowned + intelligence, will occupy a superior position in the council of the + notables. Is it not so? Has not the Señor Juez O’Brien so ordained? You + will give ear to me, you will alleviate my indignant sufferings?” He + implored me with his eyes for a long time. + </p> + <p> + Manuel-del-Popolo, as he called himself, pushed the hair back from his + forehead. I had noticed that the love-locks were plaited with black braid, + and that he wore large dirty silk ruffles. + </p> + <p> + “The <i>caballero</i>” he continued, marking his words with a long, white + finger a-tap on the table, “will represent my views to the notables. My + position at present, as I have had the honour to observe, is become + unbearable. Consider, too, how your worship and I would work together. + What lightness for you and me. You will find this Castro unbearably gross. + But I—I assure you I am a man of taste—an <i>improvisador</i>—an + artist. My songs are celebrated. And yet!...” + </p> + <p> + He folded his arms again, and waited; then he said, employing his most + impressive voice: + </p> + <p> + “I have influence with the men of Rio. I could raise a riot. We Cubans are + a jealous people; we do not love that foreigners should take our best from + us. We do not love it; we will not suffer it. Let this Castro bethink + himself and go in peace, leaving us and our ladies. As the proverb says, + ‘It is well to build a bridge for a departing enemy.’” + </p> + <p> + He began to peer at me more wistfully, and his eyes grew more luminous + than ever. This man, in spite of his grotesqueness, was quite in earnest, + there was no doubting that. + </p> + <p> + “I have a gentle spirit,” he began again, “a gentle spirit. I am + submissive to the legitimate authorities. What the Señor Juez O’Brien asks + me to do, I do. I would put a knife into any one who inconvenienced the + Señor Juez O’Brien, who is a good Catholic; we would all do that, as is + right and fitting. But this Castro—this Andalou, who is nearly as + bad as a heretic! When my day comes, I will have his arms flayed and the + soles of his feet, and I will rub red pepper into them; and all the men of + Rio who do not love foreigners will applaud. And I will stick little + thorns under his tongue, and I will cut off his eyelids with little + scissors, and set him facing the sun. <i>Caballero</i>, you would love me; + I have a gentle spirit. I am a pleasant companion.” He rose and squeezed + round the table. “Listen”—his eyes lit up with rapture—“you + shall hear me. It is divine—ah, it is very pleasant, you will say.” + </p> + <p> + He seized his mandolin, slung it round his neck, and leant against the + bulkhead. The bright light from the port-hole gilded the outlines of his + body, as he swayed about and moved his long fingers across the strings; + they tinkled metallically. He sang in a nasal voice: + </p> +<p class="poetry"> + “‘Listen!’ the young girls say as they hasten to the barred window. + ‘Listen! Ah, surely that is the guitar of Man—u—el—del-Popolo, + As he glides along the wall in the twilight.’” + </p> + <p> + It was a very long song. He gesticulated freely with his hand in between + the scratching of the strings, which seemed to be a matter of luck. His + eyes gazed distantly at the wall above my head. The performance bewildered + and impressed me; I wondered if this was what they had carried me off for. + It was like being mad. He made a decrescendo tinkling, and his lofty + features lapsed into their normal mournfulness. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Castro put his face round the door, then entered + altogether. He sighed in a satisfied manner, and had an air of having + finished a laborious undertaking. + </p> + <p> + “We have arranged the confusion up above,” he said to Manuel-del-Popolo; + “you may go and see to the sailing.... Hurry; it is growing late.” + </p> + <p> + Manuel blazed silently, and stalked out of the door as if he had an + electric cloud round his head. Tomas Castro turned towards me. + </p> + <p> + “You are better?” he asked benevolently. “You exerted yourself too much.... + But still, if you liked——” He picked up the + mandolin, and began negligently scratching the strings. I noticed an + alteration in him; he had grown softer in the flesh in the past years; + there were little threads of gray in the knotted curls of his beard. It + was as if he had lived well, on the whole. He bent his head over the + strings, plucked one, tightened a peg, plucked it again, then set the + instrument on the table, and dropped on to the mattress. “Will you have + some rum?” he said. “You have grown broad and strong, like a bull.... You + made those men fly, <i>sacré nom d’une pipe</i>.... One would have thought + you were in earnest.... Ah, well!” He stretched himself at length on the + mattress, and closed his eyes. + </p> + <p> + I looked at him to discover traces of irony. There weren’t any. He was + talking quietly; he even reproved me for having carried the pretence of + resistance beyond a joke. + </p> + <p> + “You fought too much; you struck many men—and hard. You will have + made enemies. The <i>picaros</i> of this dirty little town are as + conceited as pigs. You must take care, or you will have a knife in your + back.” + </p> + <p> + He lay with his hands crossed on his stomach, which was round like a + pudding. After a time he opened his eyes, and looked at the dancing white + reflection of the water on the grimy ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “To think of seeing you again, after all these years,” he said. “I did not + believe my ears when Don Carlos asked me to fetch you like this. Who would + have believed it? But, as they say,” he added philosophically, “‘The water + flows to the sea, and the little stones find their places.’” He paused to + listen to the sounds that came from above. “That Manuel is a fool,” he + said without rancour; “he is mad with jealousy because for this day I have + command here. But, all the same, they are dangerous pigs, these slaves of + the Señor O’Brien. I wish the town were rid of them. One day there will be + a riot—a function—with their jealousies and madness.” + </p> + <p> + I sat and said nothing, and things fitted themselves together, little + patches of information going in here and there like the pieces of a puzzle + map. O’Brien had gone on to Havana in the ship from which I had escaped, + to render an account of the pirates that had been hung at Kingston; the + Riegos had been landed in boats at Rio Medio, of course. + </p> + <p> + “That poor Don Carlos!” Castro moaned lamentably. “They had the barbarity + to take him out in the night, in that raw fog. He coughed and coughed; it + made me faint to hear him. He could not even speak to me—his Tomas; + it was pitiful. He could not speak when we got to the Casa.” + </p> + <p> + I could not really understand why I had been a second time kidnapped. + Castro said that O’Brien had not been unwilling that I should reach + Havana. It was Carlos that had ordered Tomas to take me out of the <i>Breeze</i>. + He had come down in the raw morning, before the schooner had put out from + behind the point, to impress very elaborate directions upon Tomas Castro; + indeed, it was whilst talking to Tomas that he had burst a blood-vessel. + </p> + <p> + “He said to me: ‘Have a care now. Listen. He is my dear friend, that Señor + Juan. I love him as if he were my only brother. Be very careful, Tomas + Castro. Make it appear that he comes to us much against his will. Let him + be dragged on board by many men. You are to understand, Tomas, that he is + a youth of noble family, and that you are to be as careful of compromising + him as you are of the honour of Our Lady.”! + </p> + <p> + Tomas Castro looked across at me. “You will be able to report well of me,” + he said; “I did my best. If you are compromised, it was you who did it by + talking to me as if you knew me.” + </p> + <p> + I remembered, then, that Tomas certainly had resented my seeming to + recognize him before Cowper and Lumsden. He closed his eyes again. After a + time he added: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Vaya!</i> After all, it is foolishness to fear being compromised. You + would never believe that his Excellency Don Balthasar had led a riotous + life—to look at him with his silver head. It is said he had three + friars killed once in Seville, a very, very long time ago. It was + dangerous in those days to come against our Mother, the Church.” He + paused, and undid his shirt, laying bare an incredibly hairy chest; then + slowly kicked off his shoes. “One stifles here,” he said. “Ah! in the old + days——” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he turned to me and said, with an air of indescribable interest, + as if he were gloating over an obscene idea: + </p> + <p> + “So they would hang a gentleman like you, if they caught you? What savages + you English people are!—what savages! Like cannibals! You did well + to make that comedy of resisting. <i>Quel pays!</i>... What a people... I + dream of them still.... The eyes; the teeth! Ah, well! in an hour we shall + be in Rio. I must sleep....” + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER SEVEN + </h3> + <p> + By two of the afternoon we were running into the inlet of Rio Medio. I had + come on deck when Tomas Castro had started out of his doze. I wanted to + see. We went round violently as I emerged, and, clinging to the side, I + saw, in a whirl, tall, baked, brown hills dropping sheer down to a strip + of flat land and a belt of dark-green scrub at the water’s edge; little + pink squares of house-walls dropped here and there, mounting the hillside + among palms, like men standing in tall grass, running back, hiding in a + steep valley; silver-gray huts with ragged dun roofs, like dishevelled + shocks of hair; a great pink church-face, very tall and narrow, pyramidal + towards the top, and pierced for seven bells, but having only three. It + looked as if it had been hidden for centuries in the folds of an ancient + land, as it lay there asleep in the blighting sunlight. + </p> + <p> + When we anchored, Tomas, beside me in saturnine silence, grunted and spat + into the water. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” I said. “What is the meaning of it all? What is it? What is + at the bottom?” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders gloomily. “If your worship does not know, who + should?” he said. “It is not for me to say why people should wish to come + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Then take me to Carlos,” I said. “I must get this settled.” + </p> + <p> + Castro looked at me suspiciously. “You will not excite him?” he said. “I + have known people die right out when they were like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I won’t excite him,” I said. + </p> + <p> + As we were rowed ashore, he began to point out the houses of the notables. + Rio Medio had been one of the principal ports of the Antilles in the + seventeenth century, but it had failed before the rivalry of Havana + because its harbour would not take the large vessels of modern draft. Now + it had no trade, no life, no anything except a bishop and a great + monastery, a few retired officials from Havana. A large settlement of + ragged thatched huts and clay hovels lay to the west of the cathedral. The + Casa Riego was an enormous palace, with windows like loopholes, facing the + shore. Don Balthasar practically owned the whole town and all the + surrounding country, and, except for his age and feebleness, might have + been an absolute monarch. + </p> + <p> + He had lived in Havana with great splendour, but now, in his failing + years, had retired to his palace, from which he had since only twice set + foot. This had only been when official ceremonies of extreme importance, + such as the international execution of pirates that I had witnessed, + demanded the presence of someone of his eminence and lustre. Otherwise he + had lived shut up in his palace. There was nowhere in Rio Medio for him to + go to. + </p> + <p> + He was said to regard his intendente O’Brien as the apple of his eye, and + had used his influence to get him made one of the judges of the Marine + Court. The old Don himself probably knew nothing about the pirates. The + inlet had been used by buccaneers ever since the days of Columbus; but + they were below his serious consideration, even if he had ever seen them, + which Tomas Castro doubted. + </p> + <p> + There was no doubting the sincerity of his tone. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you thought <i>I</i> was a pirate!” he muttered. “For a day—yes—to + oblige a Riego, my friend—yes! Moreover, I hate that familiar of the + priests, that soft-spoken Juez, intendente, intriguer—that O’Brien. + A sufferer for the faith! <i>Que picardia!</i> Have I, too, not suffered + for the faith? I am the trusted humble friend of the Riegos. But, perhaps, + you think Don Balthasar is himself a pirate! He who has in his veins the + blood of the Cid Campeador; whose ancestors have owned half this island + since the days of Christopher himself....” + </p> + <p> + “Has he nothing whatever to do with it?” I asked. “After all, it goes on + in his own town.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you English,” he muttered; “you are all mad! Would one of your great + nobles be a pirate? Perhaps they would—God knows. Alas, alas!” he + suddenly broke off, “when I think that my Carlos shall leave his bones in + this ungodly place....” + </p> + <p> + I gave up questioning Tomas Castro; he was too much for me. + </p> + <p> + We entered the grim palace by the shore through an imposing archway, and + mounted a broad staircase. In a lofty room, giving off the upper gallery + round the central court of the Casa Riego, Carlos lay in a great bed. I + stood before him, having pushed aside Tomas Castro, who had been + cautiously scratching the great brilliant mahogany panels with a dirty + finger-nail. + </p> + <p> + “Damnation, Carlos!” I said. “This is the third of your treacheries. What + do you want with me?” + </p> + <p> + You might well have imagined he was a descendant of the Cid Campeador, + only to look at him lying there without a quiver of a feature, his face + stainlessly white, a little bluish in extreme lack of blood, with all the + nobility of death upon it, like an alabaster effigy of an old knight in a + cathedral. On the red-velvet hangings of the bed was an immense + coat-of-arms, worked in silk and surrounded by a collar, with the golden + sheep hanging from the ring. The shield was patched in with an immense + number of quarterings—lions rampant, leopards courant, fleurs de + lis, castles, eagles, hands, and arms. His eyes opened slowly, and his + face assumed an easy, languorous smile of immense pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Juan,” he said, “<i>se bienvenido</i>, be welcome, be welcome.” + </p> + <p> + Castro caught me roughly by the shoulder, and gazed at me with blazing, + yellow eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You should not speak roughly to him,” he said. “English beast! He is + dying.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I won’t speak roughly to him,” I answered. “I see.” + </p> + <p> + I did see. At first I had been suspicious; it might have been put on to + mollify me. But one could not put on that blueness of tinge, that extra—nearly + final—touch of the chisel to the lines round the nose, that air of + restfulness that nothing any more could very much disturb. There was no + doubt that Carlos was dying. + </p> + <p> + “Treacheries—no. You had to come,” he said suddenly. “I need you. I + am glad, dear Juan.” He waved a thin long hand a little towards mine. “You + shall not long be angry. It had to be done—you must forgive the + means.” + </p> + <p> + His air was so gay, so uncomplaining, that it was hard to believe it came + from him. + </p> + <p> + “You could not have acted worse if you had owed me a grudge, Carlos,” I + said. “I want an explanation. But I don’t want to kill you....” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, oh, no,” he said; “in a minute I will tell.” + </p> + <p> + He dropped a gold ball into a silver basin that was by the bedside, and it + sounded like a great bell. A nun in a sort of coif that took the lines of + a buffalo’s horns glided to him with a gold cup, from which he drank, + raising himself a little. Then the religious went out with Tomas Castro, + who gave me a last ferocious glower from his yellow eyes. Carlos smiled. + </p> + <p> + “They try to make my going easy,” he said. “<i>Vamos!</i> The pillow is + smooth for him who is well loved.” He shut his eyes. Suddenly he said, + “Why do you, alone, hate me, John Kemp? What have I done?” + </p> + <p> + “God knows I don’t hate you, Carlos,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “You have always mistrusted me,” he said. “And yet I am, perhaps, nearer + to you than many of your countrymen, and I have always wished you well, + and you have always hated and mistrusted me. From the very first you + mistrusted me. Why?” + </p> + <p> + It was useless denying it; he had the extraordinary incredulity of his + kind. I remembered how I had idolized him as a boy at home. + </p> + <p> + “Your brother-in-law, my cousin Rooksby, was the very first to believe + that I was a pirate. I, a vulgar pirate! I, Carlos Riego! Did he not + believe it—and you?” He glanced a little ironically, and lifted a + thin white finger towards the great coat-of-arms. “That sort of thing,” he + said, “<i>amigo mio</i>, does not allow one to pick pockets.” He suddenly + turned a little to one side, and fixed me with his clear eyes. “My + friend,” he said, “if I told you that Rooksby and your greatest Kent earls + carried smugglers’ tubs, you would say I was an ignorant fool. Yet they, + too, are magistrates. The only use I have ever made of these ruffians was + to-day, to bring you here. It was a necessity. That O’Brien had gone on to + take you when you arrived. You would never have come alive out of Havana. + I was saving your life. Once there, you could never have escaped from that + man.” + </p> + <p> + I saw suddenly that this might be the truth. There had been something + friendly in Tomas Castro’s desire not to compromise me before the people + on board the ship. Obviously he had been acting a part, with a visible + contempt for the pilfering that he could not prevent. He <i>had</i> been + sent merely to bring me to Rio Medio. + </p> + <p> + “I never disliked you,” I protested. “I do not understand what you mean. + All I know is, that you have used me ill—outrageously ill. You have + saved my life now, you say. That may be true; but why did you ever make me + meet with that man O’Brien?” + </p> + <p> + “And even for that you should not hate me,” he said, shaking his head on + the silk pillows. “I never wished you anything but well, Juan, because you + were honest and young, of noble blood, good to look upon; you had done me + and my friend good service, to your own peril, when my own cousin had + deserted me. And I loved you for the sake of another. I loved your sister. + We have a proverb: ‘A man is always good to the eyes in which the sister + hath found favour.’” + </p> + <p> + I looked at him in amazement. “You loved Veronica!” I said. “But Veronica + is nothing at all. There was the Señorita.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled wearily. “Ah, the Señorita; she is very well; a man could love + her, too. But we do not command love, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + I interrupted him. “I want to know why you brought me here. Why did you + ask me to come here when we were on board the <i>Thames?</i>” + </p> + <p> + He answered sadly, “Ah, then! Because I loved your sister, and you + reminded me always of her. But that is all over now—done with for + good.... I have to address myself to dying as it becomes one of my race to + die.” He smiled at me. “One must die in peace to die like a Christian. + Life has treated me rather scurvily, only the gentleman must not repine + like a poor man of low birth. I would like to do a good turn to the friend + who is the brother of his sister, to the girl-cousin whom I do not love + with love, but whom I understand with affection—to the great + inheritance that is not for my wasted hands.” + </p> + <p> + I looked out of the open door of the room. There was the absolutely quiet + inner court of the palace, a colonnade of tall square pillars, in the + centre the little thread of a fountain. Round the fountain were tangled + bushes of flowers—enormous geraniums, enormous hollyhocks, a riot of + orange marigolds. + </p> + <p> + “How like our flowers at home!” I said mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “I brought the seeds from there—from your sister’s garden,” he said. + </p> + <p> + I felt horribly hipped. “But all these things tell me nothing,” I said, + with an attempt towards briskness. + </p> + <p> + “I have to husband my voice.” He closed his eyes. + </p> + <p> + There is no saying that I did not believe him; I did, every word. I had + simply been influenced by Rooks-by’s suspicions. I had made an ass of + myself over that business on board the <i>Thames</i>. The passage of + Carles and his faithful Tomas had been arranged for by some agent of + O’Brien in London, who was in communication with Ramon and Rio Medio. The + same man had engaged Nichols, that Nova Scotian mate, an unscrupulous + sailor, for O’Brien’s service. He was to leave the ship in Kingston, and + report himself to Ramon, who furnished him with the means to go to Cuba. + That man, seeing me intimate with two persons going to Rio Medio, had got + it into his head that I was going there, too. And, very naturally, he did + not want an Englishman for a witness of his doings. + </p> + <p> + But Rooksby’s behaviour, his veiled accusations, his innuendoes against + Carlos, had influenced me more than anything else. I remembered a hundred + little things now that I knew that Carlos loved Veronica. I understood + Rooksby’s jealous impatience, Veronica’s friendly glances at Carlos, the + fact that Rooksby had proposed to Veronica on the very day that Carlos had + come again into the neighbourhood with the runners after him. I saw very + well that there was no more connection between the Casa Riego and the + rascality of Rio Medio than there was between Ralph himself and old + drunken Rangsley on Hythe beach. There was less, perhaps. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you have had a sad life, my Carlos,” I said, after a long time. + </p> + <p> + He opened his eyes, and smiled his brave smile. “Ah, as to that,” he said, + “one kept on. One has to husband one’s voice, though, and not waste it + over lamentations. I have to tell you—ah, yes....” He paused and + fixed his eyes upon me. “Figure to yourself that this house, this town, an + immense part of this island, much even yet in Castile itself, much gold, + many slaves, a great name—a very great name—are what I shall + leave behind me. Now think that there is a very noble old man, one who has + been very great in the world, who shall die very soon; then all these + things shall go to a young girl. That old man is very old, is a little + foolish with age; that young girl knows very little of the world, and is + very passionate, very proud, very helpless. + </p> + <p> + “Add, now, to that a great menace—a very dangerous, crafty, subtle + personage, who has the ear of that old man; whose aim it is to become the + possessor of that young girl and of that vast wealth. The old man is much + subject to the other. Old men are like that, especially the very great. + They have many things to think of; it is necessary that they rely on + somebody. I am, in fact, speaking of my uncle and the man called O’Brien. + You have seen him.” Carlos spoke in a voice hardly above a whisper, but he + stuck to his task with indomitable courage. “If I die and leave him here, + he will have my uncle to himself. He is a terrible man. Where would all + that great fortune go? For the re-establishing of the true faith in + Ireland? <i>Quien sabe?</i> Into the hands of O’Brien, at any rate. And + the daughter, too—a young girl—she would be in the hands of + O’Brien, too. If I could expect to live, it might be different. That is + the greatest distress of all.” He swallowed painfully, and put his frail + hand on to the white ruffle at his neck. “I was in great trouble to find + how to thwart this O’Brien. My uncle went to Kingston because he was + persuaded it was his place to see that the execution of those unhappy men + was conducted with due humanity. O’Brien came with us as his secretary. I + was in the greatest horror of mind. I prayed for guidance. Then my eyes + fell upon you, who were pressed against our very carriage wheels. It was + like an answer to my prayers.” Carlos suddenly reached out and caught my + hand. + </p> + <p> + I thought he was wandering, and I was immensely sorry for him. He looked + at me so wistfully with his immense eyes. He continued to press my hand. + </p> + <p> + “But when I saw you,” he went on, after a time, “it had come into my head, + ‘That is the man who is sent in answer to my prayers.’ I knew it, I say. + If you could have my cousin and my lands, I thought, it would be like my + having your sister—not quite, but good enough for a man who is to + die in a short while, and leave no trace but a marble tomb. Ah, one + desires very much to leave a mark under God’s blessed sun, and to be able + to know a little how things will go after one is dead.... I arranged the + matter very quickly in my mind. There was the difficulty of O’Brien. If I + had said, ‘Here is the man who is to marry my cousin,’ he would have had + you or me murdered; he would stop at nothing. So I said to him very + quietly, ‘Look here, Señor Secretary, that is the man you have need of to + replace your Nichols—a devil to fight; but I think he will not + consent without a little persuasion. Decoy him, then, to Ramon’s, and do + your persuading.’ O’Brien was very glad, because he thought that at last I + was coming to take an interest in his schemes, and because it was bringing + humiliation to an Englishman. And Sera-phina was glad, because I had often + spoken of you with enthusiasm, as very fearless and very honourable. Then + I made that man Ramon decoy you, thinking that the matter would be left to + me.” + </p> + <p> + That was what Carlos had expected. But O’Brien, talking with Ramon, had + heard me described as an extreme Separationist so positively that he had + thought it safe to open himself fully. He must have counted, also, on my + youth, my stupidity, or my want of principle. Finding out his mistake, he + very soon made up his mind how to act; and Carlos, fearing that worse + might befall me, had let him. + </p> + <p> + But when the young girl had helped me to escape, Carlos, who understood + fully the very great risks I ran in going to Havana in the ship that + picked me up, had made use of O’Brien’s own picaroons to save me from him. + That was the story. + </p> + <p> + Towards the end his breath came fast and short; there was a flush on his + face; his eyes gazed imploringly at me. + </p> + <p> + “You will stay here, now, till I die, and then—I want you to + protect.———” He fell back on the pillows. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2H_PART3"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + PART THIRD — CASA RIEGO + </h2> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER ONE + </h3> + <p> + All this is in my mind now, softened by distance, by the tenderness of + things remembered—the wonderful dawn of life, with all the mystery + and promise of the young day breaking amongst heavy thunder-clouds. At the + time I was overwhelmed—I can’t express it otherwise. I felt like a + man thrown out to sink or swim, trying to keep his head above water. Of + course, I did not suspect Carlos now; I was ashamed of ever having done + so. I had long ago forgiven him his methods. “In a great need, you must,” + he had said, looking at me anxiously, “recur to desperate remedies.” And + he was going to die. I had made no answer, and only hung my head—not + in resentment, but in doubt of my strength to bear the burden of the great + trust that this man whom I loved for his gayety, his recklessness and + romance, was going to leave in my inexperienced hands. + </p> + <p> + He had talked till, at last exhausted, he sank back gently on the pillows + of the enormous bed emblazoned like a monument. I went out, following a + gray-headed negro, and the nun glided in, and stood at the foot with her + white hands folded patiently. + </p> + <p> + “Señor!” I heard her mutter reproachfully to the invalid. + </p> + <p> + “Do not scold a poor sinner, Dona Maria,” he addressed her feebly, with + valiant jocularity. “The days are not many now.” + </p> + <p> + The strangeness and tremendousness of what was happening came over me very + strongly whilst, in a large chamber with barred loopholes, I was throwing + off the rags in which I had entered this house. The night had come + already, and I was putting on some of Carlos’ clothes by the many flames + of candles burning in a tall bronze candelabrum, whose three legs figured + the paws of a lion. And never, since I had gone on the road to wait for + the smugglers, and been choked by the Bow Street runners, had I remembered + so well the house in which I was born. It was as if, till then, I had + never felt the need to look back. But now, like something romantic and + glamorous, there came before me Veronica’s sweet, dim face, my mother’s + severe and resolute countenance. I had need of all her resoluteness now. + And I remembered the figure of my father in the big chair by the ingle, + powerless and lost in his search for rhymes. He might have understood the + romance of my situation. + </p> + <p> + It grew upon me as I thought. Don Balthasar, I understood, was apprised of + my arrival. As in a dream, I followed the old negro, who had returned to + the door of my room. It grew upon me in the silence of this colonnaded + court. We walked along the upper gallery; his cane tapped before me on the + tessellated pavement; below, the water splashed in the marble basins; + glass lanthorns hung glimmering between the pillars and, in wrought silver + frames, lighted the broad white staircase. Under the inner curve of the + vaulted gateway a black-faced man on guard, with a bell-mouthed gun, rose + from a stool at our passing. I thought I saw Castro’s peaked hat and large + cloak flit in the gloom into which fell the light from the small doorway + of a sort of guardroom near the closed gate. We continued along the + arcaded walk; a double curtain was drawn to right and left before me, + while my guide stepped aside. + </p> + <p> + In a vast white apartment three black figures stood about a central + glitter of crystal and silver. At once the aged, slightly mechanical voice + of Don Balthasar rose thinly, putting himself and his house at my + disposition. + </p> + <p> + The formality of movements, of voices, governed and checked the unbounded + emotions of my wonder. The two ladies sank, with a rustle of starch and + stiff silks, in answer to my profound bow. I had just enough control over + myself to accomplish that, but mentally I was out of breath; and when I + felt the slight, trembling touch of Don Balthasar’s hand resting on my + inclined head, it was as if I had suddenly become aware for a moment of + the earth’s motion. The hand was gone; his face was averted, and a + corpulent priest, all straight and black below his rosy round face, had + stepped forward to say a Latin grace in solemn tones that wheezed a + little. As soon as he had done he withdrew with a circular bow to the + ladies, to Don Balthasar, who inclined his silvery head. His lifeless + voice propounded: + </p> + <p> + “Our excellent Father Antonio, in his devotion, dines by the bedside of + our beloved Carlos.” He sighed. The heavy carvings of his chair rose + upright at his back; he sat with his head leaning forward over his silver + plate. A heavy silence fell. Death hovered over that table—and also, + as it were, the breath of past ages. The multitude of lights, the polished + floor of costly wood, the bare whiteness of walls wainscotted with marble, + the vastness of the room, the imposing forms of furniture, carved heavily + in ebony, impressed me with a sense of secular and austere magnificence. + For centuries there had always been a Riego living in this fortress-like + palace, ruling this portion of the New World with the whole majesty of his + race. And I thought of the long, loop-holed, buttressed walls that this + abode of noble adventurers presented foursquare to the night outside, + standing there by the seashore like a tomb of warlike glories. They built + their houses thus, centuries ago, when the bands of buccaneers, + indomitable and atrocious, had haunted their conquest with a reminder of + mortality and weakness. + </p> + <p> + It was a tremendous thing for me, this dinner. The portly duenna on my + left had a round eye and an irritated, parrot-like profile, crowned by a + high comb, a head shaded by black lace. I dared hardly lift my eyes to the + dark and radiant presence facing me across a table furniture that was like + a display of treasure. + </p> + <p> + But I did look. She was the girl of the lizard, the girl of the dagger, + and, in the solemnity of the silence, she was like a fabulous apparition + from a half-forgotten tale. I watched covertly the youthful grace of her + features. The curve of her cheek filled me with delight. From time to time + she shook the heavy clusters of her curls, and I was amazed, as though I + had never before seen a woman’s hair. Each parting of her lips was a + distinct anticipation of a great felicity; when she said a few words to + me, I felt an inward trembling. They were indifferent words. + </p> + <p> + Had she forgotten she was the girl with the dagger? And the old Don? What + did that old man know? What did he think? What did he mean by that touch + of a blessing on my head? Did <i>he</i> know how I had come to his house? + But every turn of her head troubled my thoughts. The movements of her + hands made me forget myself. The gravity of her eyes above the smile of + her lips suggested ideas of adoration. + </p> + <p> + We were served noiselessly. A battalion of young lusty negroes, in blue + jackets laced with silver, walked about barefooted under the command of + the old major-domo. He, alone, had white silk stockings, and shoes with + silver buckles; his wide-skirted maroon velvet coat, with gold on the + collar and cuffs, hung low about his thin shanks; and, with a long ebony + staff in his hand, he directed the service from behind Don Balthasar’s + chair. At times he bent towards his master’s ear. Don Balthasar answered + with a murmur: and those two faces brought close together, one like a + noble ivory carving, the other black with the mute pathos of the African + faces, seemed to commune in a fellowship of age, of things far off, + remembered, lived through together. There was something mysterious and + touching in this violent contrast, toned down by the near approach to the + tomb—the brotherhood of master and slave. + </p> + <p> + At a given moment an enormous iron key was brought in on a silver salver, + and, bending over the chair, the gray-headed negro laid it by Don + Balthasar’s plate. + </p> + <p> + “Don Carlos’ orders,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + The old Don seemed to wake up; a little colour mounted to his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “There was a time, young <i>caballero</i>, when the gates of Casa Riego + stood open night and day to the griefs and poverty of the people, like the + doors of a church—and as respected. But now it seems ...” + </p> + <p> + He mumbled a little peevishly, but seemed to recollect himself. “The + safety of his guest is like the breath of life to a Castilian,” he ended, + with a benignant but attentive look at me. + </p> + <p> + He rose, and we passed out through the double lines of the servants ranged + from table to door. By the splash of the fountain, on a little round table + between two chairs, stood a many-branched candlestick. The duenna sat down + opposite Don Balthasar. A multitude of stars was suspended over the + breathless peace of the court. + </p> + <p> + “Señorita,” I began, mustering all my courage, and all my Spanish, “I do + not know———” + </p> + <p> + She was walking by my side with upright carriage and a nonchalant step, + and shut her fan smartly. + </p> + <p> + “Don Carlos himself had given me the dagger,” she said rapidly. + </p> + <p> + The fan flew open; a touch of the wind fanning her person came faintly + upon my cheek with a suggestion of delicate perfume. + </p> + <p> + She noticed my confusion, and said, “Let us walk to the end, Señor.” + </p> + <p> + The old man and the duenna had cards in their hands now. The intimate tone + of her words ravished me into the seventh heaven. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” she said, when we were out of ear-shot, “I have the spirit of my + house; but I am only a weak girl. We have taken this resolution because of + your <i>hidal-guidad</i>, because you are our kinsman, because you are + English. <i>Ay de mi!</i> Would I had been a man. My father needs a son in + his great, great age. Poor father! Poor Don Carlos!” + </p> + <p> + There was the catch of a sob in the shadow of the end gallery. We turned + back, and the undulation of her walk seemed to throw me into a state of + exaltation. + </p> + <p> + “On the word of an Englishman———” I began. + </p> + <p> + The fan touched my arm. The eyes of the duenna glittered over the cards. + </p> + <p> + “This woman belongs to that man, too,” muttered Seraphina. “And yet she + used to be faithful—almost a mother. <i>Misericordia!</i> Señor, + there is no one in this unhappy place that he has not bought, corrupted, + frightened, or bent to his will—to his madness of hate against + England. Of our poor he has made a rabble. The bishop himself is afraid.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the beginning of our first conversation in this court suggesting + the cloistered peace of a convent. We strolled to and fro; she dropped her + eyelids, and the agitation of her mind, pictured in the almost fierce + swiftness of her utterance, made a wonderful contrast to the leisurely + rhythm of her movements, marked by the slow beating of the fan. The + retirement of her father from the world after her mother’s death had made + a great solitude round his declining years. Yes, that sorrow, and the base + intrigues of that man—a fugitive, a hanger-on of her mother’s family—recommended + to Don Balthasar’s grace by her mother’s favour. Yes! He had, before she + died, thrown his baneful influence even upon that saintly spirit, by the + piety of his practices and these sufferings for his faith he always + paraded. His faith! Oh, hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite! His only faith + was hate—the hate of England. He would sacrifice everything to it. + He would despoil and ruin his greatest benefactors, this fatal man! + </p> + <p> + “Señor, my cousin,” she said picturesquely, “he would, if he could, drop + poison into every spring of clear water in your country.... Smile, Don + Juan.” + </p> + <p> + Her repressed vehemence had held me spellbound, and the silvery little + burst of laughter ending her fierce tirade had the bewildering effect of a + crash on my mind. The other two looked up from their cards. + </p> + <p> + “I pretend to laugh to deceive that woman,” she explained quickly. “I used + to love her.” + </p> + <p> + She had no one now about her she could trust or love. It was as if the + whole world were blind to the nefarious nature of that man. He had + possessed himself of her little father’s mind. I glanced towards the old + Don, who at that moment was brokenly taking a pinch of snuff out of a gold + snuff-box, while the duenna, very sallow and upright, waited, frowning + loftily at her cards. + </p> + <p> + “It seemed as if nothing could restrain that man,” Seraphina’s voice went + on by my side, “neither fear nor gratitude.” He seemed to cast a spell + upon people. He was the plenipotentiary of a powerful religious order—no + matter. Don Carlos knew these things better than she did. He had the ear + of the Captain-General through that. “Sh! But the intrigues, the + intrigues!” I saw her little hand clenched on the closed fan. There were + no bounds to his audacity. He wasted their wealth. “The audacity!” He had + overawed her father’s mind; he claimed descent from his Irish kings, he + who——— “Señor, my English cousin, he even dares aspire + to my person.” + </p> + <p> + The game of cards was over. + </p> + <p> + “Death rather,” she let fall in a whisper of calm resolution. + </p> + <p> + She dropped me a deep curtsey. Servants were ranging themselves in a row, + holding upright before their black faces wax lights in tall silver + candlesticks inherited from the second Viceroy of Mexico. I bowed + profoundly, with indignation on her behalf and horror in my breast; and, + turning away from me, she sank low, bending her head to receive her + father’s blessing. The major-domo preceded the <i>cortège</i>. The two + women moved away with an ample rustling of silk, and with lights carried + on each side of their black, stiff figures. Before they had disappeared up + the wide staircase, Don Balthasar, who had stood perfectly motionless with + his old face over his snuff-box, seemed to wake up, and made in the air a + hasty sign of the cross after his daughter. + </p> + <p> + They appeared again in the upper gallery between the columns. I saw her + head, draped in lace, carried proudly, with the white flower in her hair. + I raised my eyes. All my being seemed to strive upwards in that glance. + Had she turned her face my way just a little? Illusion! And the double + door above closed with an echoing sound along the empty galleries. She had + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Don Balthasar took three turns in the courtyard, no more. It was evidently + a daily custom. When he withdrew his hand from my arm to tap his + snuff-box, we stood still till he was ready to slip it in again. This was + the strangest part of it, the most touching, the most startling—that + he should lean like this on me, as if he had done it for years. Before me + there must have been somebody else. Carlos? Carlos, no doubt. And in this + placing me in that position there was apparent the work of death, the work + of life, of time, the pathetic realization of an inevitable destiny. He + talked a little disjointedly, with the uncertain swaying of a shadow on + his thoughts, as if the light of his mind had flickered like an expiring + lamp. I remember that once he asked me, in a sort of senile worry, whether + I had ever heard of an Irish king called Brian Boru; but he did not seem + to attach any importance to my reply, and spoke no more till he said + good-night at the door of my chamber. + </p> + <p> + He went on to his apartment, surrounded by lights and preceded by his + major-domo, who walked as bowed with age as himself; but the African had a + firmer step. + </p> + <p> + I watched him go; there was about his progress in state something + ghostlike and royal, an old-time, decayed majesty. It was as if he had + arisen before me after a hundred years’ sleep in his retreat—that + man who, in his wild and passionate youth, had endangered the wealth of + the Riegos, had been the idol of the Madrid populace, and a source of + dismay to his family. He had carried away, <i>vi et armis</i>, a nun from + a convent, incurring the enmity of the Church and the displeasure of his + sovereign. He had sacrificed all his fortune in Europe to the service of + his king, had fought against the French, had a price put upon his head by + a special proclamation. He had known passion, power, war, exile, and love. + He had been thanked by his returned king, honoured for his wisdom, and + crushed with sorrow by the death of his young wife—Seraphina’s + mother. + </p> + <p> + What a life! And what was my arm—my arm on which he had leaned in + his decay? I looked at it with a sort of surprise, dubiously. What was + expected of it? I asked myself. Would it have the strength? Ah, let <i>her</i> + only lean on it! + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me that I would have the power to shake down heavy pillars of + stone, like Samson, in her service; to reach up and take the stars, one by + one, to lay at her feet. I heard a sigh. A shadow appeared in the gallery. + </p> + <p> + The door of my room was open. Leaning my back against the balustrade, I + saw the black figure of the Father Antonio, muttering over his breviary, + enter the space of the light. + </p> + <p> + He crossed himself, and stopped with a friendly, “You are taking the air, + my son. The night is warm.” He was rubicund, and his little eyes looked me + over with priestly mansuetude. + </p> + <p> + I said it was warm indeed. I liked him instinctively. + </p> + <p> + He lifted his eyes to the starry sky. “The orbs are shining excessively,” + he said; then added, “To the greater glory of God. One is never tired of + contemplating this sublime spectacle.” + </p> + <p> + “How is Don Carlos, your reverence?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “My beloved penitent sleeps,” he answered, peering at me benevolently; “he + reposes. Do you know, young <i>caballero</i>, that I have been a prisoner + of war in your country, and am acquainted with Londres? I was chaplain of + the ship <i>San José</i> at the battle of Trafalgar. On my soul, it is, + indeed, a blessed, fertile country, full of beauty and of well-disposed + hearts. I have never failed since to say every day an especial prayer for + its return to our holy mother, the Church. Because I love it.” + </p> + <p> + I said nothing to this, only bowing; and he laid a short, thick hand on my + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “May your coming amongst us, my son, bring calmness to a Christian soul + too much troubled with the affairs of this world.” He sighed, nodded to me + with a friendly, sad smile, and began to mutter his prayers as he went. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER TWO + </h3> + <p> + Don Balthasar accepted my presence without a question. Perhaps he fancied + he had invited me; of my manner of coming he was ignorant, of course. + O’Brien, who had gone on to Havana in the ship which had landed the Riegos + in Rio Medio, gave no sign of life. And yet, on the arrival of the <i>Breeze</i>, + he must have found out I was no longer on board. I forgot the danger + suspended over my head. For a fortnight I lived as if in a dream. + </p> + <p> + “What is the action you want me to take, Carlos?” + </p> + <p> + I asked one day. + </p> + <p> + Propped up with pillows, he looked at me with the big eyes of his + emaciation. + </p> + <p> + “I would like best to see you marry my cousin. Once before a woman of our + race had married an Englishman. She had been happy. English things last + forever—English peace, English power, English fidelity. It is a + country of much serenity, of order, of stable affection....” + </p> + <p> + His voice was very weak and full of faith. I remained silent, overwhelmed + at this secret of my innermost heart, voiced by his bloodless lips—as + if a dream had come to pass, as if a miracle had taken place. He added, + with an indefinable smile of an almost unearthly wistfulness: + </p> + <p> + “I would have married your sister, my Juan.” + </p> + <p> + He had on him the glamour of things English—of English power + emerging from the dust of wars and revolution; of England stable and + undismayed, like a strong man who had kept his feet in the tottering of + secular edifices shaken to their foundations by an earthquake. It was as + if for him that were something fine, something romantic, just as for me + romance had always seemed to be embodied in his features, in his glance, + and to live in the air he breathed. On the other side of the bed the old + Don, lost in a high-backed armchair, remained plunged in that meditation + of the old which resembles sleep, as sleep resembles death. The priest, + lighted up by the narrow, bright streak of the window, was reading his + breviary through a pair of enormous spectacles. The white coif of the nun + hovered in distant corners of the room. + </p> + <p> + We were constantly talking of O’Brien. He was the only subject of all our + conversations; and when Carlos inveighed against the Intendente, the old + Don nodded sadly in his chair. He was dishonouring the name of the Riegos, + Carlos would exclaim feebly, turning his head towards his uncle. His + uncle’s own province, the name of his own town, stood for a refuge of the + scum of the Antilles. It wras a shameful sanctuary. Every ruffian, rascal, + murderer, and thief of the West Indies had come to think of this ancient + and honourable town as a safe haven. + </p> + <p> + I myself could very well remember the Jamaica household expression, “The + Rio Medio piracies,” and all these paragraphs in the home papers that + reached us a month old headed, “The Activity of the So-called Mexican + Privateers,” and urging upon our Government the necessity of energetic + remonstrances in Madrid. “The fact, incredible as it may appear,” said the + writers, “seeming to be that the nest of these Picaroons is actually + within the loyal dominions of the Spanish Crown.” If Spain, our press + said, resented our recognition of South American independence, let it do + so openly, not by countenancing criminals. It was unworthy of a great + nation. “Our West Indian trade is being stabbed in the back,” declaimed + the <i>Bristol Mirror</i>. “Where is our fleet?” it asked. “If the Cuban + authorities are unable or unwilling, let us take the matter in our own + hands.” + </p> + <p> + There was a great deal of mystery about this peculiar outbreak of + lawlessness that seemed to be directed so pointedly against the British + trade. The town of Rio Medio was alluded to as one of the unapproachable + towns of the earth—closed, like the capital of Prester John to the + travellers, or Mecca to the infidels. Nobody I ever met in Jamaica had set + eyes on the place. The impression prevailed that no stranger could come + out of it alive. Incredible stories were told of it in the island, and + indignation at its existence grew at home and in the colonies. + </p> + <p> + Admiral Rowley, an old fighter, grown a bit lazy, no diplomatist (the + stories of his being venal, I take it, were simply abominable calumnies), + unable to get anything out of the Cuban authorities but promises and lofty + protestations, had made up his mind, under direct pressure from home, to + take matters into his own hands. His boat attack had been a half-and-half + affair, for all that. He intended, he had said, to go to the bottom of the + thing, and find out what there was in the place; but he could not believe + that anybody would dare offer resistance to the boats of an English + squadron. They were sent in as if for an exploration rather than for an + armed landing. + </p> + <p> + It ended in a disaster, and a sense of wonder had been added to the + mystery of the fabulous Rio Medio organization. The Cuban authorities + protested against the warlike operations attempted in a friendly country; + at the same time, they had delivered the seven pirates—the men whom + I saw hanged in Kingston. And Rowley was recalled home in disgrace. + </p> + <p> + It was my extraordinary fate to penetrate into this holy city of the last + organized piracy the world would ever know. I beheld it with my eyes; I + had stood on the point behind the very battery of guns which had swept + Rowley’s boats out of existence. + </p> + <p> + The narrow entrance faced, across the water, the great portal of the + cathedral. Rio Medio had been a place of some splendour in its time. The + ruinous heavy buildings clung to the hillsides, and my eyes plunged into a + broad vista of an empty and magnificent street. Behind many of the + imposing and escutcheoned frontages there was nothing but heaps of rubble; + the footsteps of rare passers-by woke lonely echoes, and strips of grass + outlined in parallelograms the flagstones of the roadway. The Casa Riego + raised its buttressed and loop-holed bulk near the shore, resembling a + defensive outwork; on my other hand the shallow bay, vast, placid, and + shining, extended itself behind the strip of coast like an enormous + lagoon. The fronds of palm-clusters dotted the beach over the glassy + shimmer of the far distance. The dark and wooded slopes of the hills + closed the view inland on every side. + </p> + <p> + Under the palms the green masses of vegetation concealed the hovels of the + rabble. There were three so-called ‘villages’ at the bottom of the bay; + and that good Catholic and terrible man, Señor Juez O’Brien, could with a + simple nod send every man in them to the gallows. + </p> + <p> + The respectable population of Rio Medio, leading a cloistered existence in + the ruins of old splendour, used to call that thievish rabble <i>Lugarenos</i>—villagers. + They were sea-thieves, but they were dangerous. At night, from these + clusters of hovels surrounded by the banana plantations, there issued a + villainous noise, the humming of hived scoundrels. Lights twinkled. One + could hear the thin twanging of guitars, uproarious songs, all the sounds + of their drinking, singing, gambling, quarrelling, love-making, squalor. + Sometimes the long shriek of a woman rent the air, or shouting tumults + rose and subsided; while, on the other side of the cathedral, the houses + of the past, the houses without life, showed no light and made no sound. + </p> + <p> + There would be no strollers on the beach in the daytime; the masts of the + two schooners (bought in the United States by O’Brien to make war with on + the British Empire) appeared like slender sticks far away up the empty + stretch of water; and that gathering of ruffians, thieves, murderers, and + runaway slaves slept in their noisome dens. Their habits were obscene and + nocturnal. Cruel without hardihood, and greedy without courage, they were + no skull-and-crossbones pirates of the old kind, that, under the black + flag, neither gave nor expected quarter. Their usual practice was to hang + in rowboats round some unfortunate ship becalmed in sight of their coast, + like a troop of vultures hopping about the carcass of a dead buffalo on a + plain. When they judged the thing was fairly safe, they would attack with + a great noise and show of ferocity; do some hasty looting amongst the + cargo; break into the cabins for watches, wearing apparel, and so on; + perpetrate at times some atrocity, such as singeing the soles of some poor + devil of a ship-master, when they had positive information (from such + affiliated helpers as Ramon, the storekeeper in Jamaica) that there was + coined money concealed on board; and take themselves off to their sordid + revels on shore, and to hold auctions of looted property on the beach. + These Were attended by people from the interior of the province, and now + and then even the Havana dealers would come on the quiet to secure a few + pieces of silk or a cask or two of French wine. Tomas Castro could not + mention them without spitting in sign of contempt. And it was with that + base crew that O’Brien imagined himself to be making war on the British + Empire! + </p> + <p> + In the time of Nichols it did look as if they were really becoming + enterprising. They had actually chased and boarded ships sixty miles out + at sea. It seems he had inspired them with audacity by means of kicks, + blows, and threats of instant death, after the manner of Bluenose sailors. + His long limbs, the cadaverous and menacing aspect, the strange nasal + ferocity of tone, something mocking and desperate in his aspect, had + persuaded them that this unique sort of heretic was literally in league + with the devil. He had been the most efficient of the successive leaders + O’Brien had imported to give some sort of effect to his warlike + operations. I laugh and wonder as I write these words; but the man did + look upon it as a war and nothing else. What he had had the audacity to + propose to me had been treason, not thieving. It had a glamour for him + which, he supposed, a Separationist (as I had the reputation of being) + could not fail to see. He was thinking of enlarging his activity, of + getting really in touch with the Mexican Junta of rebels. As he had said, + he needed a gentleman now. These were Carlos’ surmises. + </p> + <p> + Before Nichols there had been a rather bloodthirsty Frenchman, but he got + himself stabbed in an <i>aguardiente</i> shop for blaspheming the Virgin. + Nichols, as far as I could understand, had really grown scared at + O’Brien’s success in repulsing Rowley’s boats; he had mysteriously + disappeared, and neither of the two schooners had been out till the day of + my kidnapping, when Castro, by order of Carlos, had taken the command. The + freebooters of Rio Medio had returned to their cautious and petty + pilfering in boats, from such unlucky ships as the chance of the weather + had delivered into their hands. I heard, also, during my walks with Castro + (he attended me wrapped in his cloak, and with two pistols in his belt), + that there were great jealousies and bickerings amongst that base + populace. They were divided into two parties. For instance, the rascals + living in the easternmost village accepted tacitly the leadership of a + certain Domingo, a mulatto, keeper of a vile grogshop, who was skilled in + the art of throwing a knife to a great distance. Man-uel-del-Popolo, the + extraordinary <i>improvisador</i> with the guitar, was an aspirant for + power with a certain following of his own. Words could not express + Castro’s scorn for these fellows. <i>Ladrones!</i> vermin of the earth, + scum of the sea, he called them. + </p> + <p> + His position, of course, was exceptional. A dependent of the Riegos, a + familiar of the Casa, he was infinitely removed from a Domingo or a + Manuel. He lived soberly, like a Spaniard, in some hut in the nearest of + the villages, with an old woman who swept the earth floor and cooked his + food at an outside fire—his <i>puchero</i> and <i>tortillas</i>—and + rolled for him his provision of cigarettes for the day. Every morning he + marched up to the Casa, like a courtier, to attend on his king. I never + saw him eat or drink anything there. He leaned a shoulder against the + wall, or sat on the floor of the gallery with his short legs stretched out + near the big mahogany door of Carlos’ room, with many cigarettes stuck + behind his ears and in the band of his hat. When these were gone he + grubbed for more in the depths of his clothing, somewhere near his skin. + Puffs of smoke issued from his pursed lips; and the desolation of his + pose, the sorrow of his round, wrinkled face, was so great that it seemed + were he to cease smoking, he would die of grief. + </p> + <p> + The general effect of the place was of vitality exhausted, of a body + calcined, of romance turned into stone. The still air, the hot sunshine, + the white beach curving around the deserted sheet of water, the sombre + green of the hills, had the motionlessness of things petrified, the + vividness of things painted, the sadness of things abandoned, desecrated. + And, as if alone intrusted with the guardianship of life’s sacred fire, I + was moving amongst them, nursing my love for Sera-phina. The words of + Carlos were like oil upon a flame; it enveloped me from head to foot with + a leap. I had the physical sensation of breathing it, of seeing it, of + being at the same time driven on and restrained. One moment I strode + blindly over the sand, the next I stood still; and Castro, coming up + panting, would remark from behind that, on such a hot day as this, it was + a shame to disturb even a dog sleeping in the shade. I had the feeling of + absolute absorption into one idea. I was ravaged by a thought. It was as + if I had never before imagined, heard spoken of, or seen a woman. + </p> + <p> + It was true. She was a revelation to my eye and my ear, as much as to my + heart and mind. Indeed, I seemed never before to have seen a woman. Whom + had I seen? Veronica? We had been too poor, and my mother too proud, to + keep up a social intercourse with our neighbours; the village girls had + been devoid of even the most rustic kind of charm; the people were too + poor to be handsome. I had never been tempted to look at a woman’s face; + and the manner of my going from home is known. In Jamaica, sharing with an + exaggerated loyalty the unpopularity of the Mac-donalds, I had led a + lonely life; for I had no taste for their friends’ society, and the + others, after a time, would have nothing to do with me. I had made a sort + of hermitage for myself out of a house in a distant plantation, and + sometimes I would see no white face for whole weeks together. She was the + first woman to me—a strange new being, a marvel as great as Eve + herself to Adam’s wondering awakening. + </p> + <p> + It may be that a close intimacy stands in the way of love springing up + between two young people, but in our case it was different. My passion + seemed to spring from our understanding, because the understanding was in + the face of danger. We were like two people in a slowly sinking ship; the + feeling of the abyss under our feet was our bond, not the real + comprehension of each other. Apart from that, she remained to me always + unattainable and romantic?—unique, with all the unexpressed promises + of love such as no world had ever known. And naturally, because for me, + hitherto, the world had held no woman. She was an apparition of dreams—the + girl with the lizard, the girl with the dagger, a wonder to stretch out my + hands to from afar; and yet I was permitted to whisper intimately to this + my dream, to this vision. We had to put our heads close together, talking + of the enemy and of the shadow over the house; while under our eyes Carlos + waited for death, made cruel by his anxieties, and the old Don walked in + the darkness of his accumulated years. + </p> + <p> + As to me, what was I to her? + </p> + <p> + Carlos, in a weak voice, and holding her hand with a feeble and tenacious + grasp, had told her repeatedly that the English cousin was ready to offer + up his life to her happiness in this world. Many a time she would turn her + glance upon me—not a grateful glance, but, as it were, searching and + pensive—a glance of penetrating candour, a young girl’s glance, + that, by its very trustfulness, seems to look one through and through. + </p> + <p> + And then the sense of my unworthiness made me long for her love as a + sinner, in his weakness, longs for the saving grace. + </p> + <p> + “Our English cousin is worthy of his great nation. He is very brave, and + very chivalrous to a poor girl,” she would say softly. + </p> + <p> + One day, I remember, going out of Carlos’ room, she had just paused on the + threshold for an almost imperceptible moment, the time to murmur, with + feeling, “May Heaven reward you, Don Juan.” This sound, faint and + enchanting, like a breath of sweet wind, staggered me. Castro, sitting + outside as usual, had scrambled to his feet and stood by, hat in hand, his + head bent slightly with saturnine deference. She smiled at him. I think + she felt kindly towards the tubby little bandit of a fellow. After all, + there was something touching and pathetic in his mournful vigil at the + door of our radiant Carlos. I could have embraced that figure of grotesque + and truculent devotion. Had she not smiled upon him? + </p> + <p> + The rest of that memorable day I spent in a state of delightful + distraction, as if I had been ravished into the seventh heaven, and feared + to be cast out again presently, as my unworthiness deserved. What if it + were possible, after all?—this, what Carlos wished, what he had + said. The heavens shook; the constellations above the court of Casa Riego + trembled at the thought. + </p> + <p> + Carlos fought valiantly. There were days when his courage seemed to drive + the grim presence out of the chamber, where Father Antonio with his + breviary, and the white coif of the nun, seemed the only reminders of + illness and mortality. Sometimes his voice was very strong, and a sort of + hopefulness lighted his wasted features. Don Balthasar paid many visits to + his nephew in the course of each day. He sat apparently attentive, and + nodding at the name of O’Brien. Then Carlos would talk against O’Brien + from amongst his pillows as if inspired, till the old man, striking the + floor with his gold-headed cane, would exclaim, in a quavering voice, that + he, alone, had made him, had raised him up from the dust, and could abase + him to the dust again. He would instantly go to Havana; orders would be + given to Cesar for the journey this very moment. He would then take a + pinch of snuff with shaky energy, and lean back in the armchair. Carlos + would whisper to me, “He will never leave the Casa again,” and an air of + solemn, brooding helplessness would fall upon the funereal magnificence of + the room. Presently we would hear the old Don muttering dotingly to + himself the name of Seraphina’s mother, the young wife of his old days, so + saintly, and snatched away from him in punishment of his early sinfulness. + It was impossible that she should have been deceived in Don Patricio + (O’Brien’s Christian name was Patrick). The intendente was a man of great + intelligence, and full of reverence for her memory. Don Balthasar admitted + that he himself was growing old; and, besides, there was that sorrow of + his life.... He had been fortunate in his affliction to have a man of + his worth by his side. There might have been slight irregularities, faults + of youth (O’Brien was five-and-forty if a day). The archbishop himself was + edified by the life of the upright judge—all Havana, all the island. + The intendente’s great zeal for the House might have led him into an + indiscretion or two. So many years now, so many years. A noble himself. + Had we heard of an Irish king? A king ... king... he could not recall + the name at present. It might be well to hear what a man of such abilities + had to say for himself. + </p> + <p> + Carlos and I looked at each other silently. “And his life hangs on a + thread,” whispered the dying man with something like despair. + </p> + <p> + The crisis of all these years of plotting would come the moment the old + Don closed his eyes. Meantime, why was it that O’Brien did not show + himself in Rio Medio? What was it that kept him in Havana? + </p> + <p> + “Already I do not count, my Juan,” Carlos would say. “And he prepares all + things for the day of my uncle’s death.” + </p> + <p> + The dark ways of that man were inscrutable. He must have known, of course, + that I was in Rio Medio. His presence was to be feared, and his absence + itself was growing formidable. + </p> + <p> + “But what do you think he will do? How do you think he will act?” I would + ask, a little bewildered by my responsibility. + </p> + <p> + Carlos could not tell precisely. It was not till some time after his + arrival from Europe that he became clearly aware of all the extent of that + man’s ambition. At the same time, he had realized all his power. That man + aimed at nothing less than the whole Riego fortune, and, of course, + through Seraphina. I would feel a rage at this—a sort of rage that + made my head spin as if the ground had reeled. “He would have found means + of getting rid of me if he had not seen I was not long for this world,” + Carlos would say. He had gained an unlimited ascendency over his uncle’s + mind; he had made a solitude round this solemn dotage in which ended so + much power, a great reputation, a stormy life of romance and passion—so + picturesque and excessive even in his old man’s love, whose after-effect, + as though the work of a Nemesis resenting so much brilliance, was casting + a shadow upon the fate of his daughter. + </p> + <p> + Small, fair, plump, concealing his Irish vivacity of intelligence under + the taciturn gravity of a Spanish lawyer, and backed by the influence of + two noble houses, O’Brien had attained to a remarkable reputation of + sagacity and unstained honesty. Hand in glove with the clergy, one of the + judges of the Marine Court, procurator to the cathedral chapter, he had + known how to make himself so necessary to the highest in the land that + everybody but the very highest looked upon him with fear. His occult + influence was altogether out of proportion to his official position. His + plans were carried out with an unswerving tenacity of purpose. Carlos + believed him capable of anything but a vulgar peculation. He had been + reduced to observe his action quietly, hampered by the weakness of + ill-health. As an instance of O’Brien’s methods, he related to me the + manner in which, faithful to his purpose of making a solitude about the + Riegos, he had contrived to prevent overtures for an alliance from the + Salazar family. The young man Don Vincente himself was impossible, an evil + liver, Carlos said, of dissolute habits. Still, to have even that shadow + of a rival out of the way, O’Brien took advantage of a sanguinary affray + between that man and one of his boon companions about some famous + guitar-player girl. The encounter having taken place under the wall of a + convent, O’Brien had contrived to keep Don Vincente in prison ever since—not + on a charge of murder (which for a young man of that quality would have + been a comparatively venial offence), but of sacrilege. The Salazars were + a powerful family, but he was strong enough to risk their enmity. “Imagine + that, Juan!” Carlos would exclaim, closing his eyes. What had caused him + the greatest uneasiness was the knowledge that Don Balthasar had been + induced lately to write some letter to the archbishop in Havana. Carlos + was afraid it was simply an expression of affection and unbounded trust in + his intendente, practically dictated to the old man by O’Brien. “Do you + not see, Juan, how such a letter would strengthen his case, should he ask + the guardians for Seraphina’s hand?” And perhaps he was appointed one of + the guardians himself. It was impossible to know what, were the + testamentary dispositions; Father Antonio, who had learned many things in + the confessional, could tell us nothing, but, when the matter was + mentioned, only rolled his eyes up to heaven in an alarming manner. It was + startling to think of all the unholy forces awakened by the temptation of + Seraphina’s helplessness and her immense fortune. Incorruptible himself, + that man knew how to corrupt others. There might have been combined in one + dark intrigue the covetousness of religious orders, the avarice of high + officials—God knows what conspiracy—to help O’Brien’s + ambition, his passions. He could make himself necessary; he could bribe; + he could frighten; he was able to make use of the highest in the land and + of the lowest, from the present Captain-General to the <i>Lugarenos</i>. + In Havana he had for him the reigning powers; in Rio Medio the lowest + outcasts of the island. + </p> + <p> + This last was the most dangerous aspect of his power for us, and also his + weakest point. This was the touch of something fanciful and imaginative; a + certain grim childishness in the idea of making war on the British Empire; + a certain disregard of risk; a bizarre illusion of his hate for the + abhorred Saxon. That he risked his position by his connection with such a + nest of scoundrels, there could be no doubt. It was he who had given them + such organization as they had, and he stood between them and the law. But + whatever might have been suspected of him, he was cautious enough not to + go too far. He never appeared personally; his agents directed the action—men + who came from Havana rather mysteriously. They were of all sorts; some of + them were friars. But the rabble, who knew him really only as the + intendente of the great man, stood in the greatest dread of him. Who was + it procured the release of some of them who had got into trouble in + Havana? The intendente. Who was it who caused six of their comrades, who + had been taken up on a matter of street-brawling in the capital, to be + delivered to the English as pirates? Again, the intendente, the terrible + man, the Juez, who apparently had the power to pardon and condemn. + </p> + <p> + In this way he was most dangerous to us in Rio Medio. He had that rabble + at his beck and call. He could produce a rising of cut-throats by lifting + his little finger. He was not very likely to do that, however. He was + intriguing in Havana—but how could we unmask him there? “He has cut + us off from the world,” Carlos would say. “It is so, my Juan, that, if I + tried to write, no letter of mine would reach its destination; it would + fall into his hands. And if I did manage to make my voice heard, he would + appeal to my uncle himself in his defence.” + </p> + <p> + Besides, to whom could he write?—who would believe him? O’Brien + would deny everything, and go on his way. He had been accepted too long, + had served too many people and known so many secrets. It was terrible. And + if I went myself to Havana, no one would believe me. But I should + disappear; they would never see me again. It was impossible to unmask that + man unless by a long and careful action. And for this he—Carlos—had + no time; and I—I had no standing, no relations, no skill even.... + </p> + <p> + “But what is my line of conduct, Carlos?” I insisted; while Father + Antonio, from whom Carlos had, of course, no secrets, stood by the bed, + his round, jolly face almost comical in its expression of compassionate + concern. + </p> + <p> + Carlos passed his thin, wasted hand over a white brow pearled with the + sweat of real anguish. + </p> + <p> + Carlos thought that while Don Balthasar lived, O’Brien would do nothing to + compromise his influence over him. Neither could I take any action; I must + wait and watch. O’Brien would, no doubt, try to remove me; but as long as + I kept within the Casa, he thought I should be safe. He recommended me to + try to please his cousin, and even found strength to smile at my + transports. Don Balthasar liked me for the sake of his sister, who had + been so happy in England. I was his kinsman and his guest. From first to + last, England, the idea of my country, of my home, played a great part in + my life then; it seemed to rest upon all our thoughts. To me it was but my + boyhood, the farm at the foot of the downs—Rooksby’s Manor—all + within a small nook between the quarry by the side of the Canterbury road + and the shingle beach, whose regular crashing under the feet of a + smuggling band was the last sound of my country I had heard. For Carlos it + was the concrete image of stability, with the romantic feeling of its + peace and of Veronica’s beauty; the unchangeable land where he had loved. + To O’Brien’s hate it loomed up immense and odious, like the form of a + colossal enemy. Father Antonio, in the naïve benevolence of his heart, + prayed each night for its conversion, as if it were a loved sinner. He + believed this event to be not very far off accomplishment, and told me + once, with an amazing simplicity of certitude, that “there will be a great + joy amongst the host of heaven on that day.” It is marvellous how that + distant land, from which I had escaped as if from a prison to go in search + of romance, appeared romantic and perfect in these days—all things + to all men! With Seraphina I talked of it and its denizens as of a + fabulous country. I wonder what idea she had formed of my father, of my + mother, my sister—“Señora Dona Veronica Rooksby,” she called her—of + the landscape, of the life, of the sky. Her eyes turned to me seriously. + Once, stooping, she plucked an orange marigold for her hair; and at last + we came to talk of our farm as the only perfect refuge for her. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER THREE + </h3> + <p> + One evening Carlos, after a silence of distress, had said, “There’s + nothing else for it. When the crisis comes, you must carry her off from + this unhappiness and misery that hangs over her head. You must take her + out of Cuba; there is no safety for her here.” + </p> + <p> + This took my breath away. “But where are we to go, Carlos?” I asked, + bending over him. + </p> + <p> + “To—to England,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + He was utterly worn out that evening by all the perplexities of his + death-bed. He made a great effort and murmured a few words more—about + the Spanish ambassador in London being a near relation of the Riegos; then + he gave it up and lay still under my amazed eyes. The nun was approaching, + alarmed, from the shadows. Father Antonio, gazing sadly upon his beloved + penitent, signed me to withdraw. + </p> + <p> + Castro had not gone away yet; he greeted me in low tones outside the big + door. + </p> + <p> + “Señor,” he went on, “I make my report usually to his Señoria Don Carlos; + only I have not been admitted to-day into his rooms at all. But what I + have to say is for your ear, also. There has arrived a friar from a Havana + convent amongst the <i>Lugarenos</i> of the bay. I have known him come + like this before.” + </p> + <p> + I remembered that in the morning, while dressing, I had glanced out of the + narrow outside window of my room, and had seen a brown, mounted figure + passing on the sands. Its sandalled feet dangled against the flanks of a + powerful mule. + </p> + <p> + Castro shook his head. “Malediction on his green eyes! He baptizes the + offspring of this vermin sometimes, and sits for hours in the shade before + the door of Domingo’s posada telling his beads as piously as a devil that + had turned monk for the greater undoing of us Christians. These women + crowd there to kiss his oily paw. What else they——— <i>Basta!</i> + Only I wanted to tell you, Señor, that this evening (I just come from + taking a <i>pasear</i> that way) there is much talk in the villages of an + evil-intentioned heretic that has introduced himself into this our town; + of an <i>Inglez</i> hungry for men to hang—of you, in short.” + </p> + <p> + The moon, far advanced in its first quarter, threw an ashen, bluish light + upon one-half of the courtyard; and the straight shadow upon the other + seemed to lie at the foot of the columns, black as a broad stroke of + Indian ink. + </p> + <p> + “And what do you think of it, Castro?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I think that Domingo has his orders. Manuel has made a song already. And + do you know its burden, Señor? Killing is its burden. I would the devil + had all these <i>Improvisadores</i>. They gape round him while he twangs + and screeches, the wind-bag! And he knows what words to sing to them, too. + He has talent. <i>Maladetta!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what do you advise?” + </p> + <p> + “I advise the senor to keep, now, within the Casa. No songs can give that + vermin the audacity to seek the senor here. The gate remains barred; the + firearms are always loaded; and Cesar is a sagacious African. But methinks + this moon would fall out of the heaven first before they would dare.... + Keep to the Casa, I say—I, Tomas Castro.” + </p> + <p> + He flung the corner of his cloak over his left shoulder, and preceded me + to the door of my room; then, after a “God guard you, Señor,” continued + along the colonnade. Before I had shut my door it occurred to me that he + was going on towards the part of the gallery on which Seraphina’s + apartments opened. Why? What could he want there? + </p> + <p> + I am not so much ashamed of my sudden suspicion of him—one did not + know whom to trust—but I am a little ashamed to confess that, + kicking off my shoes, I crept out instantly to spy upon him. + </p> + <p> + This part of the house was dark in the inky flood of shadow; and before I + had come to a recess in the wall, I heard the discreet scratching of a + finger-nail on a door. A streak of light darted and disappeared, like a + signal for the murmurs of two voices. + </p> + <p> + I recognized the woman’s at once. It belonged to one of Seraphina’s maids, + a pretty little quadroon—a favourite of hers—called La Chica. + She had slipped out, and her twitter-like whispering reached me in the + still solemnity of the quadrangle. She addressed Castro as “His Worship” + at every second word, for the saturnine little man, in his unbrushed cloak + and battered hat, was immensely respected by the household. Had he not + been sent to Europe to fetch Don Carlos? He was in the confidence of the + masters—their humble friend. The little tire-woman twittered of her + mistress. The senorita had been most anxious all day—ever since she + had heard the friar had come. Castro muttered: + </p> + <p> + “Tell the Excellency that her orders have been obeyed. The English <i>caballero</i> + has been warned. I have been sleepless in my watchfulness over the guest + of the house, as the senorita has desired—for the honour of the + Riegos. Let her set her mind at ease.” + </p> + <p> + The girl then whispered to him with great animation. Did not his worship + think that it was the senorita’s heart which was not at ease? + </p> + <p> + Then the quadrangle became dumb in its immobility, half sheen, half night, + with its arcades, the soothing plash of water, with its expiring lights, + in a suggestion of Castilian severity, enveloped by the exotic softness of + the air. + </p> + <p> + “What folly!” uttered Castro’s sombre voice. “You women do not mind how + many corpses come into your imaginings of love. The mere whisper of such a + thing———” + </p> + <p> + She murmured swiftly. He interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “Thine eyes, La Chica—thine eyes see only the silliness of thine own + heart. Think of thine own lovers, <i>nina. Por Dios!</i>”—he changed + to a tone of severe appreciation—“thy foolish face looks well by + moonlight.” + </p> + <p> + I believe he was chucking her gravely under the chin. I heard her soft, + gratified cooing in answer to the compliment; the streak of light flashed + on the polished shaft of a pillar; and Castro went on, going round to the + staircase, evidently so as not to pass again before my open door. + </p> + <p> + I forgot to shut it. I did not stop until I was in the middle of my room; + and then I stood still for a long time in a self-forgetful ecstasy, while + the many wax candles of the high candelabrum burned without a flicker in a + rich cluster of flames, as if lighted to throw the splendour of a + celebration upon the pageant of my thoughts. + </p> + <p> + For the honour of the Riegos! + </p> + <p> + I came to myself. Well, it was sweet to be the object of her anxiety and + care, even on these terms—on any terms. And I felt a sort of + profound, inexpressible, grateful emotion, as though no one, never, on no + day, on no occasion, had taken thought of me before. + </p> + <p> + I should not be able to sleep. I went to the window, and leaned my + forehead on the iron bar. There was no glass; the heavy shutter was thrown + open; and, under the faint crescent of the moon I saw a small part of the + beach, very white, the long streak of light lying mistily on the bay, and + two black shapes, cloaked, moving and stopping all of a piece like + pillars, their immensely long shadows running away from their feet, with + the points of the hats touching the wall of the Casa Riego. Another, a + shorter, thicker shape, appeared, walking with dignity. It was Castro. The + other two had a movement of recoil, then took off their hats. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Buenas noches, caballeros</i>,” his voice said, with grim politeness. + “You are out late.” + </p> + <p> + “So is your worship. <i>Vaya, Señor, con Dios</i>. We are taking the air.” + </p> + <p> + They walked away, while Castro remained looking after them. But I, from my + elevation, noticed that they had suddenly crouched behind some scrubby + bushes growing on the edge of the sand. Then Castro, too, passed out of my + sight in the opposite direction, muttering angrily. + </p> + <p> + I forgot them all. Everything on earth was still, and I seemed to be + looking through a casement out of an enchanted castle standing in the + dreamland of romance. I breathed out the name of Seraphina into the + moonlight in an increasing transport. “Seraphina! Seraphina! Seraphina!” + The repeated beauty of the sound intoxicated me. “Seraphina!” I cried + aloud, and stopped, astounded at myself. And the moonlight of romance + seemed to whisper spitefully from below: + </p> + <p> + “Death to the traitor! Vengeance for our brothers dead on the English + gallows!” “Come away, Manuel.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I am an artist. It is necessary for my soul...” + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet!” + </p> + <p> + Their hissing ascended along the wall from under the window. The two <i>Lugarenos</i> + had stolen in unnoticed by me. There was a stifled metallic ringing, as of + a guitar carried under a cloak. + </p> + <p> + “Vengeance on the heretic <i>Inglez!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Come away! They may suddenly open the gate and fall upon us with sticks.” + </p> + <p> + “My gentle spirit is roused to the accomplishment of great things. I feel + in me a valiance, an inspiration. I am no vulgar seller of <i>aguardiente</i>, + like Domingo. I was born to be the <i>capataz</i> of the <i>Lugarenos</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall be set upon and beaten, oh, thou Manuel. Come away!” + </p> + <p> + There were no footsteps, only a noiseless flitting of two shadows, and a + distant voice crying: + </p> + <p> + “Woe, woe, woe to the traitor!” + </p> + <p> + I had not needed Castro’s warning to understand the meaning of this. + O’Brien was setting his power to work, only this Manuel’s restless vanity + had taught me exactly how the thing was to be done. The friar had been + exciting the minds of this rabble against me; awakening their suspicions, + their hatred, their fears. + </p> + <p> + I remained at the casement, lost in rather sombre reflections. I was now a + prisoner within the walls of the Casa. After all, it mattered little. I + did not want to go away unless I could carry off Seraphina with me. What a + dream! What an impossible dream! Alone, without friends, with no place to + go to, without means of going; without, by Heaven, the right of even as + much as speaking of it to her. Carlos—Carlos dreamed—a dream + of his dying hours. England was so far, the enemy so near; and—Providence + itself seemed to have forgotten me. + </p> + <p> + A sound of panting made me turn my head. Father Antonio was mopping his + brow in the doorway. Though a heavy man, he was noiseless of foot. A + wheezing would be heard along the dark galleries some time before his + black bulk approached you with a gliding motion. He had the outward + placidity of corpulent people, a natural artlessness of demeanour which + was amusing and attractive, and there was something shrewd in his + simplicity. Indeed, he must have displayed much tact and shrewdness to + have defeated all O’Brien’s efforts to oust him from his position of + confessor to the household. What had helped him to hold his ground was + that, as he said to me once, “I, too, my son, am a legacy of that truly + pious and noble lady, the wife of Don Riego. I was made her spiritual + director soon after her marriage, and I may say that she showed more + discretion in the choice of her confessor than in that of her man of + affairs. But what would you have? The best of us, except for Divine grace, + is liable to err; and, poor woman, let us hope that, in her blessed state, + she is spared the knowledge of the iniquities going on here below in the + Casa.” + </p> + <p> + He used to talk to me in that strain, coming in almost every evening on + his way from the sick room. He, too, had his own perplexities, which made + him wipe his forehead repeatedly; afterwards he used to spread his red + bandanna handkerchief over his knees. + </p> + <p> + He sympathized with Carlos, his beloved penitent, with Seraphina, his dear + daughter, whom he had baptized and instructed in the mysteries of “our + holy religion,” and he allowed himself often to drop the remark that his + “illustrious spiritual son,” Don Balthasar, after a stormy life of which + men knew only too much, had attained to a state of truly childlike and + God-fearing innocence—a sign, no doubt, of Heaven’s forgiveness for + those excesses. He ended, always, by sighing heartily, to sit with his + gaze on the floor. + </p> + <p> + That night he came in silently, and after shutting the door with care, + took his habitual seat, a broad wooden armchair. + </p> + <p> + “How did your reverence leave Don Carlos?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Very low,” he said. “The disease is making terrible ravages, and my + ministrations———I ought to be used to the sight of human + misery, but———” He raised his hands; a genuine emotion + overpowered him; then, uncovering his face to stare at me, “He is lost, + Don Juan,” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I fear we are about to lose him, your reverence,” I said, + surprised at this display. It seemed inconceivable that he should have + been in doubt up to this very moment. + </p> + <p> + He rolled his eyes painfully. I was forgetting the infinite might of God. + Still, nothing short of a miracle———But what had we done + to deserve miracles? + </p> + <p> + “Where is the ancient piety of our forefathers which made Spain so great?” + he apostrophized the empty air, a little wildly, as if in distraction. + “No, Don Juan; even I, a true servant of our faith, am conscious of not + having had enough grace for my humble ministrations to poor sailors and + soldiers—men naturally inclined to sin, but simple. And now—there + are two great nobles, the fortune of a great house....” + </p> + <p> + I looked at him and wondered, for he was, in a manner, wringing his hands, + as if in immense distress. + </p> + <p> + “We are all thinking of that poor child—<i>mas que</i>, Don Juan, + imagine all that wealth devoted to the iniquitous purposes of that man. + Her happiness sacrificed.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot imagine this—I will not,” I interrupted, so violently that + he hushed me with both hands uplifted. + </p> + <p> + “To these wild enterprises against your own country,” he went on + vehemently, disregarding my exasperated and contemptuous laugh. “And she + herself, the <i>niña</i> I have baptized her; I have instructed her; and a + more noble disposition, more naturally inclined to the virtues and + proprieties of her sex———But, Don Juan, she has pride, + which doubtless is a gift of God, too, but it is made a snare of by Satan, + the roaring lion, the thief of souls. And what if her feminine rashness—women + are rash, my son,” he interjected with unction—“and her pride were + to lead her into—I am horrified at the thought—into an act of + mortal sin for which there is no repentance?” + </p> + <p> + “Enough!” I shouted at him. + </p> + <p> + “No repentance,” he repeated, rising to his feet excitedly, and I stood + before him, my arms down my sides, with my fists clenched. + </p> + <p> + Why did the stupid priest come to talk like this to me, as if I had not + enough of my own unbearable thoughts? + </p> + <p> + He sat down and began to flourish his handkerchief. There was depicted on + his broad face—depicted simply and even touchingly—the inward + conflict of his benevolence and of his doubts. + </p> + <p> + “I observe your emotion, my son,” he said. I must have been as pale as + death. And, after a pause, he meditated aloud, “And, after all, you + English are a reverent nation. You, a scion of the nobility, have been + brought up in deplorable rebellion against the authority of God on this + earth; but you are not a scoffer—not a scoffer. I, a humble priest———But, + after all, the Holy Father himself, in his inspired wisdom———I + have prayed to be enlightened....” + </p> + <p> + He spread the square of his damp handkerchief on his knees, and bowed his + head. I had regained command over myself, but I did not understand in the + least. I had passed from my exasperation into a careworn fatigue of mind + that was like utter darkness. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” he said, looking up naively, “the business of us priests is + to save souls. It is a solemn time when death approaches. The affairs of + this world should be cast aside. And yet God surely does not mean us to + abandon the living to the mercy of the wicked.” + </p> + <p> + A sadness came upon his face, his eyes; all the world seemed asleep. He + made an effort. “My son,” he said with decision, “I call you to follow me + to the bedside of Don Carlos at this very hour of night. I, a humble + priest, the unworthy instrument of God’s grace, call upon you to bring him + a peace which my ministrations cannot give. His time is near.” + </p> + <p> + I rose up, startled by his solemnity, by the hint of hidden significance + in these words. + </p> + <p> + “Is he dying now?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “He ought to detach his thoughts from this earth; and if there is no other + way———” + </p> + <p> + “What way? What am I expected to do?” + </p> + <p> + “My son, I had observed your emotion. We, the appointed confidants of + men’s frailties, are quick to discern the signs of their innermost + feelings. Let me tell you that my cherished daughter in God, Señorita Dona + Seraphina Riego, is with Don Carlos, the virtual head of the family, since + his Excellency Don Balthasar is in a state of, I may say, infantile + innocence.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, father?” I faltered. + </p> + <p> + “She is waiting for you with him,” he pronounced, looking up. And as his + solemnity seemed to have deprived me of my power to move, he added, with + his ordinary simplicity, “Why, my son, she is, I may say, not wholly + indifferent to your person.” + </p> + <p> + I could not have dropped more suddenly into the chair had the good <i>padre</i> + discharged a pistol into my breast. He went away; and when I leapt up, I + saw a young man in black velvet and white ruffles staring at me out of the + large mirror set frameless into the wall, like the apparition of a Spanish + ghost with my own English face. + </p> + <p> + When I ran out, the moon had sunk below the ridge of the roof; the whole + quadrangle of the Casa had turned black under the stars, with only a + yellow glimmer of light falling into the well of the court from the lamp + under the vaulted gateway. The form of the priest had gone out of sight, + and a far-away knocking, mingling with my footfalls, seemed to be part of + the tumult within my heart. Below, a voice at the gate challenged, “Who + goes there?” I ran on. Two tiny flames burned before Carlos’ door at the + end of the long vista, and two of Seraphina’s maids shrank away from the + great mahogany panels at my approach. The candlesticks trembled askew in + their hands; the wax guttered down, and the taller of the two girls, with + an uncovered long neck, gazed at me out of big sleepy eyes in a sort of + dumb wonder. The teeth of the plump little one—La Chica—rattled + violently like castanets. She moved aside with a hysterical little laugh, + and glanced upwards at me. + </p> + <p> + I stopped, as if I had intruded; of all the persons in the sick-room, not + one turned a head. The stillness of the lights, of things, of the air, + seemed to have passed into Seraphina’s face. She stood with a stiff + carriage under the heavy hangings of the bed, looking very Spanish and + romantic in her short black skirt, a black lace shawl enveloping her head, + her shoulders, her arms, as low as the waist. Her bare feet, thrust into + high-heeled slippers, lent to her presence an air of flight, as if she had + run into that room in distress or fear. Carlos, sitting up amongst the + snowy pillows of eider-down at his back, was not speaking to her. He had + done; and the flush on his cheek, the eager lustre of his eyes, gave him + an appearance of animation, almost of joy, a sort of consuming, flame-like + brilliance. They were waiting for me. With all his eagerness and air of + life, all he could do was to lift his white hand an inch or two off the + silk coverlet that spread over his limbs smoothly, like a vast crimson + pall. There was something joyous and cruel in the shimmer of this piece of + colour, contrasted with the dead white of the linen, the duskiness of the + wasted face, the dark head with no visible body, symbolically motionless. + The confused shadows and the tarnished splendour of emblazoned draperies, + looped up high under the ceiling, fell in heavy and unstirring folds right + down to the polished floor, that reflected the lights like a sheet of + water, or rather like ice. + </p> + <p> + I felt it slippery under my feet. I, alone, had to move, in this great + chamber, with its festive patches of colour amongst the funereal shadows, + with the expectant, still figures of priest and nun, servants of + passionless eternity, as if immobilized and made mute by hostile wonder + before the perishable triumph of life and love. And only the impatient + tapping of the sick man’s hand on the stiff silk of the coverlet was + heard. + </p> + <p> + It called to me. Seraphina’s unstirring head was lighted strongly by a + two-branched sconce on the wall; and when I stood by her side, not even + the shadow of the eyelashes on her cheek trembled. Carlos’ lips moved; his + voice was almost extinct; but for all his emaciation, the profundity of + his eyes, the sunken cheeks, the hollow temples, he remained attractive, + with the charm of his gallant and romantic temper worn away to an almost + unearthly fineness. + </p> + <p> + He was going to have his desire because, on the threshold of his spiritual + inheritance, he refused, or was unable, to turn his gaze away from this + world. Father Antonio’s business was to save this soul; and with a sort of + simple and sacerdotal shrewdness, in which there was much love for his + most noble penitent, he would try to appease its trouble by a romantic + satisfaction. His voice, very grave and profound, addressed me: + </p> + <p> + “Approach, my son—nearer. We trust the natural feelings of pity + which are implanted in every human breast, the nobility of your + extraction, the honour of your <i>hidalguidad</i>, and that + inextinguishable courage which, as by the unwearied mercy of God, + distinguishes the sons of your fortunate and unhappy nation.” His bass + voice, deepened in solemn utterance, vibrated huskily. There was a rustic + dignity in his uncouth form, in his broad face, in the gesture of the + raised hand. “You shall promise to respect the dictates of our conscience, + guided by the authority of our faith; to defer to our scruples, and to the + procedure of our Church in matters which we believe touch the welfare of + our souls.... You promise?” + </p> + <p> + He waited. Carlos’ eyes burned darkly on my face. What were they asking of + me? This was nothing. Of course I would respect her scruples—her + scruples—if my heart should break. I felt her living intensely by my + side; she could be brought no nearer to me by anything they could do, or I + could promise. She had already all the devotion of my love and youth, the + unreasoning and potent devotion, without a thought or hope of reward. I + was almost ashamed to pronounce the two words they expected. “I promise.” + </p> + <p> + And suddenly the meaning pervading this scene, something that was in my + mind already, and that I had hardly dared to look at till now, became + clear to me in its awful futility against the dangers, in all its remote + consequences. It was a betrothal. The priest—Carlos, too—must + have known that it had no binding power. To Carlos it was symbolic of his + wishes. Father Antonio was thinking of the papal dispensation. I was a + heretic. What if it were refused? But what was that risk to me, who had + never dared to hope? Moreover, they had brought her there, had persuaded + her; she had been influenced by her fears, impressed by Carlos. What could + she care for me? And I repeated: + </p> + <p> + “I promise. I promise, even at the cost of suffering and unhappiness, + never to demand anything from her against her conscience.” + </p> + <p> + Carlos’ voice sounded weak. “I answer for him, good father.” Then he + seemed to wander in a whisper, which we two caught faintly, “He resembles + his sister, O Divine———” + </p> + <p> + And on this ghostly sigh, on this breath, with the feeble click of beads + in the nun’s hands, a silence fell upon the room, vast as the stillness of + a world of unknown faiths, loves, beliefs, of silent illusions, of + unexpressed passions and secret motives that live in our unfathomable + hearts. + </p> + <p> + Seraphina had given me a quick glance—the first glance—which I + had rather felt than seen. Carlos made an effort, and, raising himself, + put her hand in mine. + </p> + <p> + Father Antonio, trying to pronounce a short allocution, broke down, naïve + in his emotion, as he had been in his dignity. I could at first catch only + the words, “Beloved child—Holy Father—poor priest....” He had + taken this upon himself; and he would attest the purity of our intentions, + the necessity of the case, the assent of the head of the family, my + excellent disposition. All the Englishmen had excellent dispositions. He + would, personally, go to the foot of the Holy See—on his knees, if + necessary. Meantime, a document—he should at once prepare a + justificative document. The archbishop, it is true, did not like him on + account of the calumnies of that man O’Brien. But there was, beyond the + seas, the supreme authority of the Church, unerring and inaccessible to + calumnies. + </p> + <p> + All that time Seraphina’s hand was lying passive in my palm—warm, + soft, living; all the life, all the world, all the happiness, the only + desire—and I dared not close my grasp, afraid of the vanity of my + hopes, shrinking from the intense felicity in the audacious act. Father + Antonio—I must say the word—blubbered. He was now only a + tender-hearted, simple old man, nothing more. + </p> + <p> + “Before God now, Don Juan.... I am only a poor priest, but invested with a + sacred office, an enormous power. Tremble, Señor, it is a young girl... I + have loved her like my own; for, indeed, I have in baptism given her the + spiritual life. You owe her protection; it is for that, before God, Señor———” + </p> + <p> + It was as if Carlos had swooned; his eyes were closed, his face like a + carving. But gradually the suggestion of a tender and ironic smile + appeared on his lips. With a slow effort he raised his arm and his + eyelids, in an appeal of all his weariness for my ear. I made a movement + to stoop over him, and the floor, the great bed, the whole room, seemed to + heave and sway. I felt a slight, a fleeting pressure of Seraphina’s hand + before it slipped out of mine; I thought, in the beating rush of blood to + my temples, that I was going mad. + </p> + <p> + He had thrown his arm over my neck; there was the calming austerity of + death on his lips, that just touched my ear and departed, together with + the far-away sound of the words, losing themselves in the remoteness of + another world: + </p> + <p> + “Like an Englishman, Juan.” + </p> + <p> + “On my honour, Carlos.” + </p> + <p> + His arm, releasing my neck, fell stretched out on the coverlet. Father + Antonio had mastered his emotion; with the trail of undried tears on his + face, he had become a priest again, exalted above the reach of his earthly + sorrow by the august concern of his sacerdocy. + </p> + <p> + “Don Carlos, my son, is your mind at ease, now?” + </p> + <p> + Carlos closed his eyes slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Then turn all your thoughts to heaven.” Father Antonio’s bass voice rose, + aloud, with an extraordinary authority. “You have done with the earth.” + </p> + <p> + The arm of the nun touched the cords of the curtains, and the massive + folds shook and fell expanded, hiding from us the priest and the penitent. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h3> + <p> + Seraphina and I moved towards the door sadly, as if under the oppression + of a memory, as people go back from the side of a grave to the cares of + life. No exultation possessed me. Nothing had happened. It had been a sick + man’s whim. + </p> + <p> + “Señorita,” I said low, with my hand on the wrought bronze of the + door-handle, “Don Carlos might have died in full trust of my devotion to + you—without this.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” she answered, hanging her head. + </p> + <p> + “It was his wish,” I said. “And I deferred.” + </p> + <p> + “It was his wish,” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Remember he had asked you for no promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is you only he has asked. You have remembered it very well, + Señor. And you—you ask for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I said; “neither from your heart nor from your conscience—nor + from your gratitude. Gratitude from you! As if it were not I that owe you + gratitude for having condescended to stand with your hand in mine—if + only for a moment—if only to bring peace to a dying man; for giving + me the felicity, the illusion of this wonderful instant, that, all my + life, I shall remember as those who are suddenly stricken blind remember + the great glory of the sun. I shall live with it, I shall cherish it in my + heart to my dying day; and I promise never to mention it to you again.” + </p> + <p> + Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes remained downcast, her head + drooped as if in extreme attention. + </p> + <p> + “I asked for no promise,” she murmured coldly. + </p> + <p> + My heart was heavy. “Thank you for that proof of your confidence,” I said. + “I am yours without any promises. Wholly yours. But what can I offer? What + help? What refuge? What protection? What can I do? I can only die for you. + Ah, but this was cruel of Carlos, when he knew that I had nothing else but + my poor life to give.” + </p> + <p> + “I accept that,” she said unexpectedly. “Señorita, it is generous of you + to accept so worthless a gift—a life I value not at all save for one + unique memory which I owe to you.” + </p> + <p> + I knew she was looking at me while I swung open the door with a low bow. I + did not trust myself to look at her. An unreasonable disenchantment, like + the awakening from a happy dream, oppressed me. I felt an almost angry + desire to seize her in my arms—to go back to my dream. If I had + looked at her then, I believed I could not have controlled myself. + </p> + <p> + She passed out; and when I looked up there was O’Brien booted and spurred, + but otherwise in his lawyer’s black, inclining his dapper figure + profoundly before her in the dim gallery. She had stopped short. The two + maids, huddled together behind her, stared with terrified eyes. The flames + of their candles vacillated very much. + </p> + <p> + I closed the door quietly. Carlos was done with the earth. This had become + my affair; and the necessity of coming to an immediate decision almost + deprived me of my power of thinking. The necessity had arisen too swiftly; + the arrival of that man acted like the sudden apparition of a phantom. It + had been expected, however; only, from the moment we had turned away from + Carlos’ bedside, we had thought of nothing but ourselves; we had dwelt + alone in our emotions, as if there had been no inhabitant of flesh and + blood on the earth but we two. Our danger had been present, no doubt, in + our minds, because we drew it in with every breath. It was the + indispensable condition of our contact, of our words, of our thoughts; it + was the atmosphere of our feelings; a something as all-pervading and + impalpable as the air we drew into our lungs. And suddenly this danger, + this breath of our life, had taken this material form. It was material and + expected, and yet it had the effect of an evil spectre, inasmuch as one + did not know where and how it was vulnerable, what precisely it would do, + how one should defend one’s self. + </p> + <p> + His bow was courtly; his gravity was all in his bearing, which was quiet + and confident: the manner of a capable man, the sort of man the great of + this earth find invaluable and are inclined to trust. His full-shaven face + had a good-natured, almost a good-humored expression, which I have come to + think must have depended on the cast of his features, on the setting of + his eyes—on some peculiarity not under his control, or else he could + not have preserved it so well. On certain occasions, as this one, for + instance, it affected me as a refinement of cynicism; and, generally, it + was startling, like the assumption of a mask inappropriate to the action + and the speeches of the part. + </p> + <p> + He had journeyed in his customary manner overland from Havana, arriving + unexpectedly at night, as he had often done before; only this time he had + found the little door, cut out in one of the sides of the big gate, bolted + fast. It was his knocking I had heard, as I hurried after the priest. The + major-domo, who had been called up to let him in, told me afterwards that + the senor intendente had put no question whatever to him as to this, and + had gone on, as usual, towards his own room. Nobody knew what was going on + in Carlos’ chamber, but, of course, he came upon the two girls at the + door. He said nothing to them either, only just stopped there and waited, + leaning with one elbow on the balustrade with his good-tempered, gray eyes + fixed on the door. He had fully expected to see Seraphina come out + presently, but I think he did not count on seeing me as well. When he + straightened himself up after the bow, we two were standing side by side. + </p> + <p> + I had stepped quickly towards her, asking myself what he would do. He did + not seem to be armed; neither had I any weapon about me. Would he fly at + my throat? I was the bigger, and the younger man. I wished he would. But + he found a way of making me feel all his other advantages. He did not + recognize my existence. He appeared not to see me at all. He seemed not to + be aware of Seraphina’s startled immobility, of my firm attitude; but + turning his good-humoured face towards the two girls, who appeared ready + to sink through the floor before his gaze, he shook his fore-finger at + them slightly. + </p> + <p> + This was all. He was not menacing; he was almost playful; and this + gesture, marvellous in its economy of effort, disclosed all the might and + insolence of his power. It had the unerring efficacy of an act of + instinct. It was instinct. He could not know how he dismayed us by that + shake of the finger. The tall girl dropped her candlestick with a clatter, + and fled along the gallery like a shadow. La Chica cowered under the wall. + The light of her candle just touched dimly the form of a negro boy, + waiting passively in the background with O’Brien’s saddle-bags over his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said Seraphina to me, in a swift, desolate murmur. “They are + all like this—all, all.” + </p> + <p> + Without a change of countenance, without emphasis, he said to her in + French: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Votre père dort sans doute, Señorita</i>.” + </p> + <p> + And she intrepidly replied, “You know very well, Señor Intendente, that + nothing can make him open his eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “So it seems,” he muttered between his teeth, stooping to pick up the + dropped candlestick. It was lying at my feet. I could have taken him at a + disadvantage, then; I could have felled him with one blow, thrown myself + upon his back. Thus may an athletic prisoner set upon a jailer coming into + his cell, if there were not the prison, the locks, the bars, the heavy + gates! the walls, all the apparatus of captivity, and the superior weight + of the idea chaining down the will, if not the courage. + </p> + <p> + It might have been his knowledge of this, or his absolute disdain of me. + The unconcerned manner in which he busied himself—his head within + striking distance of my fist—in lighting the extinguished candle + from the trembling Chica’s humiliated me beyond expression. He had some + difficulty with that, till he said to her just audibly, “Calm thyself, + niña,” and she became rigid in her appearance of excessive terror. + </p> + <p> + He turned then towards Seraphina, candlestick in hand, courteously saying + in Spanish: + </p> + <p> + “May I be allowed to help light you to your door, since that silly Juanita—I + think it was Juanita—has taken leave of her senses? She is not fit + to remain in your service—any more than this one here.” + </p> + <p> + With a gasp of desolation, La Chica began to sob limply against the wall. + I made one step forward; and, holding the candle well up, as though for + the purpose of examining my face carefully, he never looked my way, while + he and Seraphina were exchanging a few phrases in French which I did not + understand well enough to fellow. + </p> + <p> + He was politely interrogatory, it seemed to me. The natural, good-humoured + expression never left his face, as though he had a fund of inexhaustible + patience for dealing with the unaccountable trifles of a woman’s conduct. + Seraphina’s shawl had slipped off her head. La Chica sidled towards her, + sobbing a deep sob now and then, without any sign of tears; and with their + scattered hair, their bare arms, the disorder of their attire, they looked + like two women discovered in a secret flight for life. Only the mistress + stood her ground firmly; her voice was decided; there was resolution in + the way one little white hand clutched the black lace on her bosom. Only + once she seemed to hesitate in her replies. Then, after a pause he gave + her for reflection, he appeared to repeat his question. She glanced at me + apprehensively, as I thought, before she confirmed the previous answer by + a slow inclination of her head. + </p> + <p> + Had he allowed himself to make a provoking movement, a dubious gesture of + any sort, I would have flung myself upon him at once; but the nonchalant + manner in which he looked away, while he extended to me his hand with the + candlestick, amazed me. I simply took it from him. He stepped back, with a + ceremonious bow for Seraphina. La Chica ran up close to her elbow. I heard + her voice saying sadly, “You need fear nothing for yourself, child”; and + they moved away slowly. I remained facing O’Brien, with a vague notion of + protecting their retreat. + </p> + <p> + This time it was I who was holding the light before his face. It was calm + and colourless; his eyes were fixed on the ground reflectively, with the + appearance of profound and quiet absorption. But suddenly I perceived the + convulsive clutch of his hand on the skirt of his coat. It was as if + accidentally I had looked inside the man—upon the strength of his + illusions, on his desire, on his passion. Now he will fly at me, I + thought, with a tremendously convincing certitude. Now———All + my muscles, stiffening, answered the appeal of that thought of battle. + </p> + <p> + He said, “Won’t you give me that light?” + </p> + <p> + And I understood he demanded a surrender. + </p> + <p> + “I would see you die first where you stand,” was my answer. + </p> + <p> + This object in my hand had become endowed with moral meaning—significant, + like a symbol—only to be torn from me with my life. + </p> + <p> + He lifted his head; the light twinkled in his eyes. “Oh, <i>I</i> won’t + die,” he said, with that bizarre suggestion of humour in his face, in his + subdued voice. “But it is a small thing; and you are young; it may be yet + worth your while to try and please me—this time.” + </p> + <p> + Before I could answer, Seraphina, from some little distance, called out + hurriedly: + </p> + <p> + “Don Juan, your arm.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice, sounding a little unsteady, made me forget O’Brien, and, + turning my back on him, I ran up to her. She needed my support; and before + us La Chica tottered and stumbled along with the lights, moaning: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Madré de Dios!</i> What will become of us now! Oh, what will become of + us now!” + </p> + <p> + “You know what he had asked me to let him do,” Seraphina talked rapidly. + “I made answer, ‘No; give the light to my cousin.’ Then he said, ‘Do you + really wish it, Señorita? I am the older friend.’ I repeated, ‘Give the + light to my cousin, Señor.’ He, then, cruelly, ‘For the young man’s own + sake, reflect, Señorita.’ And he waited before he asked me again, ‘Shall I + surrender it to him?’ I felt death upon my heart, and all my fear for you—there.” + She touched her beautiful throat with a swift movement of a hand that + disappeared at once under the lace. “And because I could not speak, I———Don + Juan, you have just offered me your life—I——— <i>Misericordia!</i> + What else was possible? I made with my head the sign ‘Yes.’” + </p> + <p> + In the stress, hurry, and rapture encompassing my immense gratitude, I + pressed her hand to my side familiarly, as if we had been two lovers + walking in a lane on a serene evening. + </p> + <p> + “If you had not made that sign, it would have been worse than death—in + my heart,” I said. “He had allied me, too, to renounce my trust, my + light.” + </p> + <p> + We walked on slowly, accompanied in our sudden silence by the plash of the + fountain at the bottom of the great square of darkness on our left, and by + the piteous moans of La Chica. + </p> + <p> + “That is what he meant,” said the enchanting voice by my side. “And you + refused. That is your valour.” + </p> + <p> + “From no selfish motives,” I said, troubled, as if all the great + incertitude of my mind had been awakened by the sound that brought so much + delight to my heart. “My valour is nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “It has given me a new courage,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You did not want more,” I said earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I was very much alone. It is difficult to———” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “To live alone,” I finished. + </p> + <p> + “More so to die,” she whispered, with a new note of timidity. “It is + frightful. Be cautious, Don Juan, for the love of God, because I could not———” + </p> + <p> + We stopped. La Chica, silent, as if exhausted, drooped lamentably, with + her shoulder against the wall, by Seraphina’s door; and the pure + crystalline sound of the fountain below, enveloping the parting pause, + seemed to wind its coldness round my heart. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Don Carlos!” she said. “I had a great affection for him. I was + afraid they would want me to marry him. He loved your sister.” + </p> + <p> + “He never told her,” I murmured. “I wonder if she ever guessed.” + </p> + <p> + “He was poor, homeless, ill already, in a foreign land.” + </p> + <p> + “We all loved him at home,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “He never asked her,” she breathed out. “And, perhaps—but he never + asked her.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no more force,” sighed La Chica, suddenly, and sank down at the + foot of the wall, putting the candlesticks on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “You have been very good to him,” I said; “only he need not have demanded + this from you. Of course, I understood perfectly.... I hope you + understand, too, that I———” + </p> + <p> + “Señor, my cousin,” she flashed out suddenly, “do you think that I would + have consented only from my affection for him?” + </p> + <p> + “Señorita,” I cried, “I am poor, homeless, in a foreign land. How can I + believe? How can I dare to dream?—unless your own voice———” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are permitted to ask. Ask, Don Juan.” + </p> + <p> + I dropped on one knee, and, suddenly extending her arm, she pressed her + hand to my lips. Lighted up from below, the picturesque aspect of her + figure took on something of a transcendental grace; the unusual upward + shadows invested her beauty with a new mystery of fascination. A minute + passed. I could hear her rapid breathing above, and I stood up before her, + holding both her hands. + </p> + <p> + “How very few days have we been together,” she whispered. “Juan, I am + ashamed.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not count the days. I have known you always. I have dreamed of you + since I can remember—for days, for months, a year, all my life.” + </p> + <p> + The crash of a heavy door flung to, exploded, filling the galleries all + round the <i>patio</i> with the sonorous reminder of our peril. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! We had forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + I heard her voice, and felt her form in my arms. Her lips at my ear + pronounced: + </p> + <p> + “Remember, Juan. Two lives, but one death only.” + </p> + <p> + And she was gone so quickly that it was as though she had passed through + the wood of the massive panels. + </p> + <p> + La Chica crouched on her knees. The lights on the floor burned before her + empty stare, and with her bare shoulders the tone of old ivory emerging + from the white linen, with wisps of raven hair hanging down her cheeks, + the abandonment of her whole person embodied every outward mark and line + of desolation. + </p> + <p> + “What do you fear from him?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + She looked up; moved nearer to me on her knees. “I have a lover outside.” + </p> + <p> + She seized her hair wildly, drew it across her face, tried to stuff + handfuls of it into her mouth, as if to stop herself from shrieking. + </p> + <p> + “He shook his finger at me,” she moaned. + </p> + <p> + Her terror, as incomprehensible as the emotion of an animal, was gaining + upon me. I said sternly: + </p> + <p> + “What can he do, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + She did not know. She was like me. She feared for her love. Like myself! + Was there anything in the way of our undoing which it was not in his power + to achieve? + </p> + <p> + “Try to be faithful to your mistress,” I said, “and all may be well yet.” + </p> + <p> + She made no answer, but staggered to her feet, and went away blindly + through the door, which opened just wide enough to let her through. There + were clouds on the sky. The <i>patio</i>, in its blackness, was like the + rectangular mouth of a bottomless pit. I picked up the candlesticks, and + lighted myself to my room, walking upon air, upon tempestuous air, in a + feeling of insecurity and exultation. + </p> + <p> + The lights of my candelabrum had gone out. I stood the two candlesticks on + a table, and the shadows of the room, uplifted above the two flames as + high as the ceiling, filled the corners heavily like gathered draperies, + descended to the foot of the four walls in the shape of a military tent, + in which warlike objects vaguely gleamed: a trophy of ancient arquebuses + and conquering swords, arranged with bows, spears, the stick and stone + weapons of an extinct race, a war collar of shells or pebbles, a round + wicker-work shield in a halo of arrows, with a matchlock piece on each + side—of the sort that had to be served by two men. + </p> + <p> + I had left the door of my room open on purpose, so that he should know I + was back there, and ready for him. I took down a long straight blade, like + a rapier, with a basket hilt. It was a cumbrous weapon, and with a blunt + edge; still, it had a point, and I was ready to thrust and parry against + the world. I called upon my foes. No enemy appeared, and by the light of + two candles, with a sword in my hand, I lost myself in the foreshadowings + of the future. + </p> + <p> + It was positive and uncertain. I wandered in it like a soul outside the + gates of paradise, with an anticipation of bliss, and the pain of my + exclusion. There was only one man in the way. I was certain he had been + watching us across the blackness of the <i>patio</i>. He must have seen + the dimly-lit dumb show of our parting at Sera-phina’s door. I hoped he + had understood, and that my shadow, bearing the two lights, had struck him + as triumphant and undismayed, walking upon air. I strained my ears. I had + heard.... + </p> + <p> + Somebody was coming towards me along the silent galleries. It was he; I + knew it. He was coming nearer and nearer. In the profound, tomb-like + stillness of the great house, I had heard the sound of his footsteps on + the tessellated pavement from afar. Now he had turned the corner, and the + calm, strolling pace of his approach was enough to strike awe into an + adversary’s heart. It never hesitated, not once; never hurried; never + slowed till it stopped. He stood in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + I suppose, in that big room, by the light of two candles, I must have + presented an impressive picture of a menacing youth all in black, with a + tense face, and holding a naked, long rapier in his hand. At any rate, he + stood still, eyeing me from the doorway, the picture of a dapper Spanish + lawyer in a lofty frame; all in black, also, with a fair head and a + well-turned leg advanced in a black silk stocking. He had taken off his + riding boots. For the rest, I had never seen him dressed otherwise. There + was no weapon in his hand, or at his side. + </p> + <p> + I lowered the point, and, seeing he remained on the doorstep, as if not + willing to trust himself within, I said disdainfully: + </p> + <p> + “You don’t suppose I would murder a defenceless man.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I defenceless?” He had a slight lift of the eyebrows. “That is news, + indeed. It is you who are supposing. I have been a very certain man for + this many a year.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you know how an English gentleman would feel and act? I am + neither a murderer nor yet an intriguer.” + </p> + <p> + He walked right in rapidly, and, getting round to the other side of the + table, drew a small pistol out of his breeches pocket. + </p> + <p> + “You see—I am not trusting too much to your English generosity.” + </p> + <p> + He laid the pistol negligently on the table. I had turned about on my + heels. As we stood, by lunging between the two candlesticks, I should have + been able to run him through the body before he could cry out. + </p> + <p> + I laid the sword on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Would you trust a damned Irish rebel?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong in your surmise. I would have nothing to do with a rebel, + even in my thoughts and suppositions. I think that the Intendente of Don + Balthasar Riego would look twice before murdering in a bedroom the guest + of the house—a relation, a friend of the family.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s sensible,” he said, with that unalterable air of good nature, + which sometimes was like the most cruel mockery of humour. “And do you + think that even a relation of the Riegos would escape the scaffold for + killing Don Patricio O’Brien, one of the Royal Judges of the Marine Court, + member of the Council, Procurator to the Chapter....” + </p> + <p> + “Intendente of the Casa,” I threw in. + </p> + <p> + “That’s my gratitude,” he said gravely. “So you see....” + </p> + <p> + “Supreme chief of thieves and picaroons,” I suggested again. + </p> + <p> + He answered this by a gesture of disdainful superiority. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if you—-if any of you English—would have the courage + to risk your all—ambition, pride, position, wealth, peace of mind, + your dearest hope, your self-respect—like this. For an idea.” + </p> + <p> + His tone, that revealed something exalted and sad behind everything that + was sordid and base in the acts of that man’s villainous tools, struck me + with astonishment. I beheld, as an inseparable whole, the contemptible + result, the childishness of his imagination, the danger of his + recklessness, and something like loftiness in his pitiful illusion. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing’s too hot, too dirty, too heavy. Any way to get at you English; + any means. To strike! That’s the thing. I would die happy if I knew I had + helped to detach from you one island—one little island of all the + earth you have filched away, stolen, taken by force, got by lying.... + Don’t taunt me with your taunts of thieves. What weapons better worthy of + you could I use? Oh, I am modest. I am modest. This is a little thing, + this Jamaica. What do I care for the Separationist blatherskite more than + for the loyal fools? You are all English to me. If I had my way, your + Empire would die of pin-pricks all over its big, overgrown body. Let only + one bit drop off. If robbing your ships may help it, then, as you see me + standing here, I am ready to go myself in a leaky boat. I tell you + Jamaica’s gone. And that may be the beginning of the end.” + </p> + <p> + He lifted his arm not at me, but at England, if I may judge from his + burning stare. It was not to me he was speaking. There we were, Irish and + English, face to face, as it had been ever since we had met in the narrow + way of the world that had never been big enough for the tribes, the + nations, the races of man. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. O’Brien, I don’t know what you may do to me, but I won’t listen + to any of this,” I said, very red in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Who wants you to listen?” he muttered absently, and went away from the + table to look out of the loophole, leaving me there with the sword and the + pistol. + </p> + <p> + Whatever he might have said of the scaffold, this was very imprudent of + him. It was characteristic of the man—of that impulsiveness which + existed in him side by side with his sagacity, with his coolness in + intrigue, with his unmerciful and revengeful temper. By my own feelings I + understood what an imprudence it was. But he was turning his back on me, + and how could I?... His imprudence was so complete that it made for + security. He did not, I am sure, remember my existence. I would just as + soon have jumped with a dagger upon a man in the dark. + </p> + <p> + He was really stirred to his depths—to the depths of his hate, and + of his love—by seeing me, an insignificant youth (I was no more), + surge up suddenly in his path. He turned where he stood at last, and + contemplated me with a sort of thoughtful surprise, as though he had tried + to account to himself for my existence. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, to himself really, “I wonder when I look at you. How did + you manage to get that pretty reputation over there? Ramon’s a fool. He + shall know it to his cost. But the craftiness of that Carlos! Or is it + only my confounded willingness to believe?” + </p> + <p> + He was putting his finger nearly on the very spot. I said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he exclaimed, “when it’s all boiled down, you are only an English + beggar boy.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve come to a man’s estate since we met last,” I said meaningly. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to meditate over this. His face never changed, except, perhaps, + to an even more amused benignity of expression. + </p> + <p> + “You have lived very fast by that account,” he remarked artlessly. “Is it + possible now? Well, life, as you know, can’t last forever; and, indeed, + taking a better look at you in this poor light, you do seem to be very + near death.” + </p> + <p> + I did not flinch; and, with a very dry mouth, I uttered defiantly: + </p> + <p> + “Such talk means nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravely said. But this is not talk. You’ve gone too fast. I am giving you + a chance to turn back.” + </p> + <p> + “Not an inch,” I said fiercely. “Neither in thought, in deed; not even in + semblance.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed as though he wanted to swallow a bone in his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, there is more in life than you think. There is at your age, + more than...” he had a strange contortion of the body, as though in a + sudden access of internal pain; that humorous smile, that abode in the + form of his lips, changed into a ghastly, forced grin... “than one love in + a life—more than one woman.” + </p> + <p> + I believe he tried to leer at me, because his voice was absolutely dying + in his throat. My indignation was boundless. I cried out with the fire of + deathless conviction: + </p> + <p> + “It is not true. You know it is not true.” + </p> + <p> + He was speechless for a time; then, shaking and stammering with that + inward rage that seemed to heave like molten lava in his breast, without + ever coming to the surface of his face: + </p> + <p> + “What! Is it I, then, who have to go back? For—for you—-a boy—come + from devil knows where—an English, beggarly.... For a girl’s + whim.... I—a man.” + </p> + <p> + He calmed down. “No; you are mad. You are dreaming. You don’t know. You + can’t—you! You don’t know what a man is; you with your calf-love a + day old. How dare you look at me who have breathed for years in the very + air? You fool—you little, wretched fool! For years sleeping, and + waking, and working....” + </p> + <p> + “And intriguing,” I broke in, “and plotting, and deceiving—for + years.” + </p> + <p> + This calmed him altogether. “I am a man; you are but a boy; or else I + would not have to tell you that your love”—he choked at the word—“is + to mine like—like—” + </p> + <p> + His eyes fell on a cut-glass water-ewer, and, with a convulsive sweep of + his arm, he sent it flying far away from the table. It fell heavily, + shattering itself with the unringing thud of a piece of ice. “Like this.” + He remained for some time with his eyes fixed on the table, and when he + looked up at me it was with a sort of amused incredulity. His tone was not + resentful. He spoke in a business-like manner, a little contemptuously. I + had only Don Carlos to thank for the position in which I found myself. + What the “poor devil over there” expected from me, he, O’Brien, would not + inquire. It was a ridiculous boy-and-girl affair. If those two—meaning + Carlos and Seraphina—had not been so mighty clever, I should have + been safe now in Jamaica jail, on a charge of treasonable practices. He + seemed to find the idea funny. Well, anyhow, he had meant no worse by me + than my own dear countrymen. When he, O’Brien, had found how absurdly he + had been hoodwinked by Don Carlos—the poor devil—and misled by + Ramon—he would make him smart for it, yet—all he had intended + to do was to lodge me in Havana jail. On his word of honour... + </p> + <p> + “Me in jail!” I cried angrily. “You—you would dare! On what charge? + You could not....” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know what Pat O’Brien can do in Cuba.” + </p> + <p> + The little country solicitor came out in a flash from under the Spanish + lawyer. Then he frowned slightly at me. “You being an Englishman, I would + have had you taken up on a charge of stealing.” + </p> + <p> + Blood rushed to my face. I lost control over myself. “Mr. O’Brien,” I + said, “I dare say you could have trumped up anything against me. You are a + very great scoundrel.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Because I don’t lie about my motives, as you all do? I would wish + you to know that I would scorn to lie either to myself or to you.” + </p> + <p> + I touched the haft of the sword on the table. It was lying with the point + his way. + </p> + <p> + “I had been thinking,” said I, in great heat, “to propose to you that we + should fight it out between us two, man to man, rebel and traitor as you + have been.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil you have!” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “But really you are too much of a Picaroon. I think the gallows should be + your end.” + </p> + <p> + I gave rein to my exasperation, because I felt myself hopelessly in his + power. What he was driving at, I could not tell. I had an intolerable + sense of being as much at his mercy as though I had been lying bound hand + and foot on the floor. It gave me pleasure to tell him what I thought. + And, perhaps, I was not quite candid, either. Suppose I provoked him + enough to fire his pistol at me. He had been fingering the butt, absently, + as we talked. He might have missed me, and then.... Or he might have shot + me dead. But surely there was some justice in Cuba. It was clear enough + that he did not wish to kill me himself. Well, this was a desperate + strait; to force him to do something he did not wish to do, even at the + cost of my own life, was the only step left open to me to thwart his + purpose; the only thing I could do just then for the furtherance of my + mission to save Seraphina from his intrigues. I was oppressed by the + misery of it all. As to killing him as he stood—if I could do it by + being very quick with the old rapier—my bringing up, my ideas, my + very being, recoiled from it. I had never taken a life. I was very young. + I was not used to scenes of violence; and to begin like this in cold + blood! Not only my conscience, but my very courage faltered. Truth to + tell, I was afraid; not for myself—I had the courage to die; but I + was afraid of the act. It was the unknown for me—for my nerve—for + my conscience. And then the Spanish gallows! That, too, revolted me. To + kill him, and then kill myself.... No, I must live. “Two lives, one + death,” she had said..... For a second or two my brain reeled with horror; + I was certainly losing my self-possession. His voice broke upon that + nightmare. + </p> + <p> + “It may be your lot, yet,” it said. I burst into a nervous laugh. For a + moment I could not stop myself. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t murder you,” I cried. + </p> + <p> + To this he said astonishingly, “Will you go to Mexico?” + </p> + <p> + It sounded like a joke. He was very serious. “I shall send one of the + schooners there on a little affair of mine. I can make use of you. I give + you this chance.” It was as though he had thrown a bucketful of water over + me. I had an inward shiver, and became quite cool. It was his turn now to + let himself go. + </p> + <p> + It was a matter of delivering certain papers to the Spanish commandant in + Tamaulipas. There would be some employment found for me with the Royal + troops. I was a relation of the Riegos. And there came upon his voice a + strange ardour; a swiftness into his utterance. He walked away from the + table; came back, and gazed into my face in a marked, expectant manner. He + was not prompted by any love for me, he said, and gave an uncertain laugh. + </p> + <p> + My wits had returned to me wholly; and as he repeated “No love for you—no + love for you,” I had the intuition that what influenced him was his love + for Seraphina. I saw it. I read it in the workings of his face. His eyes + retained his good-humoured twinkle. He did not attach any importance to a + boy-and-girl affair; not at all—pah! The lady, naturally young, + warmhearted, full of kindness. I mustn’t think.... Ha, ha! A man of his + age, of course, understood.... No importance at all. + </p> + <p> + He walked away from the table trying to snap his fingers, and, suddenly, + he reeled; he reeled, as though he had been overcome by the poison of his + jealousy—as though a thought had stabbed him to the heart. There was + an instant when the sight of that man moved me more than anything I had + seen of passionate suffering before (and that was nothing), or since. He + longed to kill me—I felt it in the very air of the room; and he + loved her too much to dare. He laughed at me across the table. I had + ridiculously misunderstood a very proper and natural kindness of a girl + with not much worldly experience. He had known her from the earliest + childhood. + </p> + <p> + “Take my word for it,” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me that there were tears in his eyes. A stiff smile was + parting his lips. He took up the pistol, and evidently not knowing + anything about it, looked with an air of curiosity into the barrel. + </p> + <p> + It was time to think of making my career. That’s what I ought to be + thinking of at my age. “At your age—at your age,” he repeated + aimlessly. I was an Englishman. He hated me—and it was easy to + believe this, though he neither glared nor grimaced. He smiled. + </p> + <p> + He smiled continuously and rather pitifully. But his devotion to a—a—person + who.... His devotion was great enough to overcome even that, even that. + Did I understand? I owed it to the lady’s regard, which, for the rest, I + had misunderstood—stupidly misunderstood. + </p> + <p> + “Well, at your age it’s excusable!” he mumbled. “A career that...” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” I said slowly. Young as I was, it was impossible to mistake his + motives. Only a man of mature years, and really possessed by a great + passion—by a passion that had grown slowly, till it was exactly as + big as his soul—could have acted like this—with that profound + simplicity, with such resignation, with such horrible moderation—But + I wanted to find out more. “And when would you want me to go?” I asked, + with a dissimulation of which I would not have suspected myself capable a + moment before. I was maturing in the fire of love, of danger; in the lurid + light of life piercing through my youthful innocence. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” he said, banging the pistol on to the table hurriedly. “At once. + To-night. Now.” + </p> + <p> + “Without seeing anybody?” + </p> + <p> + “Without seeing... Oh, of course. In your own interest.” + </p> + <p> + He was very quiet now. “I thought you looked intelligent enough,” he said, + appearing suddenly very tired. “I am glad you see your position. You shall + go far in the Royal service, on the faith of Pat O’Brien, English as you + are. I will make it my own business for the sake of—the Riego + family. There is only one little condition.” + </p> + <p> + He pulled out of his pocket a piece of paper, a pen, a travelling + inkstand. He looked the lawyer to the life; the Spanish family lawyer + grafted on an Irish attorney. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t see anybody. But you ought to write. Dona Seraphina naturally + would be interested. A cousin and... I shall explain to Don Balthasar, of + course.... I will dictate: ‘Out of regard for your future, and the desire + for active life, of your own will, you accept eagerly Señor O’Brien’s + proposition.’ She’ll understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, she’ll understand,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And that you will write of your safe arrival in Tamaulipas. You must + promise to write. Your word...” + </p> + <p> + “By heavens, Señor O’Brien!” I burst out with inexpressible scorn, “I + thought you meant your villains to cut my throat on the passage. I should + have deserved no better fate.” + </p> + <p> + He started. I shook with rage. A change had come upon both of us as sudden + as if we had been awakened by a violent noise. For a time we did not speak + a word. One look at me was enough for him. He passed his hand over his + forehead. + </p> + <p> + “What devil’s in you, boy?” he said. “I seem to make nothing but + mistakes.” + </p> + <p> + He went to the loophole window, and, advancing his head, cried out: + </p> + <p> + “The schooner does not sail to-night.” + </p> + <p> + He had some of his cut-throats posted under the window. I could not make + out the reply he got; but after a while he said distinctly, so as to be + heard below: + </p> + <p> + “I give up that spy to you.” Then he came back, put the pistol in his + pocket, and said to me, “Fool! I’ll make you long for death yet.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve given yourself away pretty well,” I said. “Some day I shall unmask + you. It will be my revenge on you for daring to propose to me....” + </p> + <p> + “What?” he interrupted, over his shoulder. “You? Not you—and I’ll + tell you why. It’s because dead men tell no tales.” + </p> + <p> + He passed through the door—a back view of a dapper Spanish lawyer, + all in black, in a lofty frame. The calm, strolling footsteps went away + along the gallery. He turned the corner. The tapping of his heels echoed + in the <i>patio</i>, into whose blackness filtered the first suggestion of + the dawn. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h3> + <p> + I remember walking about the room, and thinking to myself, “This is bad, + this is very bad; what shall I do now?” A sort of mad meditation that in + this meaningless way became so tense as positively to frighten me. Then it + occurred to me that I could do nothing whatever at present, and I was + soothed by this sense of powerless-ness, which, one would think, ought to + have driven me to distraction. I went to sleep ultimately, just as a man + sentenced to death goes to sleep, lulled in a sort of ghastly way by the + finality of his doom. Even when I awoke it kept me steady, in a way. I + washed, dressed, walked, ate, said “Good-morning, Cesar,” to the old + major-domo I met in the gallery; exchanged grins with the negro boys under + the gateway, and watched the mules being ridden out barebacked by other + nearly naked negro boys into the sea, with great splashing of water and a + noise of voices. A small knot of men, unmistakably __Lugareños__, stood on + the beach, also, watching the mules, and exchanging loud jocular shouts + with the blacks. Rio Medio, the dead, forsaken, and desecrated city, was + lying, as bare as a skeleton, on the sands. They were yellow; the bay was + very blue, the wooded hills very green. + </p> + <p> + After the mules had been ridden uproariously back to the stables, wet and + capering, and shaking their long ears, all the life of the land seemed to + take refuge in this vivid colouring. As I looked at it from the outer + balcony above the great gate, the small group of __Lugareños__ turned + about to look at the Casa Riego. + </p> + <p> + They recognized me, no doubt, and one of them flourished, threateningly, + an arm from under his cloak. I retreated indoors. + </p> + <p> + This was the only menacing sign, absolutely the only sign that marked this + day. It was a day of pause. Seraphina did not leave her apartments; Don + Balthasar did not show himself; Father Antonio, hurrying towards the sick + room, greeted me with only a wave of the hand. I was not admitted to see + Carlos; the nun came to the door, shook her head at me, and closed it + gently in my face. Castro, sitting on the floor not very far away, seemed + unaware of me in so marked a manner that it inspired me with the idea of + not taking the slightest notice of him. Now and then the figure of a maid + in white linen and bright petticoat flitted in the upper gallery, and once + I fancied I saw the black, rigid carriage of the duenna disappearing + behind a pillar. + </p> + <p> + Señor O’Brien, old Cesar whispered, without looking at me, was extremely + occupied in the <i>Cancillería</i>. His midday meal was served him there. + I had mine all alone, and then the sunny, heat-laden stillness of + siesta-time fell upon the Castilian dignity of the house. + </p> + <p> + I sank into a kind of reposeful belief in the work of accident. Something + would happen. I did not know how soon and how atrociously my belief was to + be justified. I exercised my ingenuity in the most approved lover-fashion—in + devising means how to get secret speech with Seraphina. The confounded + silly maids fled from my most distant appearance, as though I had the + pest. I was wondering whether I should not go simply and audaciously and + knock at her door, when I fancied I heard a scratching at mine. It was a + very stealthy sound, quite capable of awakening my dormant emotions. + </p> + <p> + I went to the door and listened. Then, opening it the merest crack, I saw + the inexplicable emptiness of the gallery. Castro, on his hands and knees, + startled me by whispering at my feet: + </p> + <p> + “Stand aside, Señor.” + </p> + <p> + He entered my room on all-fours, and waited till I got the door closed + before he stood up. + </p> + <p> + “Even he may sleep sometimes,” he said. “And the balustrade has hidden + me.” + </p> + <p> + To see this little saturnine bandit, who generally stalked about + haughtily, as if the whole Casa belonged to him by right of fidelity, + crawl into my room like this was inexpressibly startling. He shook the + folds of his cloak, and dropped his hat on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Still, it is better so. The very women of the house are not safe,” he + said. “Señor, I have no mind to be delivered to the English for hanging. + But I have not been admitted to see Don Carlos, and, therefore, I must + make my report to you. These are Don Carlos’ orders. ‘Serve him, Castro, + when I am dead, as if my soul had passed into his body.’” + </p> + <p> + He nodded sadly. “<i>Si!</i> But Don Carlos is a friend to me and you—you.” + He shook his head, and drew me away from the door. “Two __Lugareños__,” he + said, “Manuel and another one, did go last night, as directed by the + friar”—he supposed—“to meet the <i>Juez</i> in the bush + outside Rio Medio.” + </p> + <p> + I had guessed that much, and told him of Manuel’s behaviour under my + window. How did they know my chamber? + </p> + <p> + “Bad, bad,” muttered Castro. “La Chica told her lover, no doubt.” He + hissed, and stamped his foot. + </p> + <p> + She was pretty, but flighty. The lover was a silly boy of decent, + Christian parents, who was always hanging about in the low villages. No + matter. + </p> + <p> + What he could not understand was why some boats should have been held in + readiness till nearly the morning to tow a schooner outside. Manuel came + along at dawn, and dismissed the crews. They had separated, making a great + noise on the beach, and yelling, “Death to the <i>Inglez!</i>” + </p> + <p> + I cleared up that point for him. He told me that O’Brien had the duenna + called to his room that morning. Nothing had been heard outside, but the + woman came out staggering, with her hand on the wall. He had terrified + her. God knows what he had said to her. The widow—as Castro called + her—had a son, an <i>escrivano</i> in one of the Courts of Justice. + No doubt it was that. + </p> + <p> + “There it is, Señor,” murmured Castro, scowling all round, as if every + wall of the room was an enemy. “He holds all the people in his hand in + some way. Even I must be cautious, though I am a humble, trusted friend of + the Casa!” + </p> + <p> + “What harm could he do you?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “He is civil to me. <i>Amigo Castro</i> here, and <i>Amigo Castro</i> + there. Bah! The devil, alone, is his friend! He could deliver me to + justice, and get my life sworn away. He could———<i>Quien + sabe?</i> What need he care what he does—a man that can get + absolution from the archbishop himself if he likes.” + </p> + <p> + He meditated. “No! there is only one remedy for him.” He tiptoed to my + ear. “The knife!” + </p> + <p> + He made a pass in the air with his blade, and I remembered vividly the + cockroach he had impaled with such accuracy on board the <i>Thames</i>. + His baneful glance reminded me of his murderous capering in the steerage, + when he had thought that the only remedy for <i>me</i> was the knife. + </p> + <p> + He went to the loop-hole, and passed the steel thoughtfully on the stone + edge. I had not moved. + </p> + <p> + “The knife; but what would you have? Before, when I talked of this to Don + Carlos, he only laughed at me. That was his way in matters of importance. + Now they will not let me come in to him. He is too near God—and the + Señorita—why, she is too near the saints for all the great nobility + of her spirit. But, <i>que dia-bleria</i>, when I—in my devotion—opened + my mouth to her I saw some of that spirit in her eyes....” + </p> + <p> + There was a slight irony in his voice. “No! Me—Castro! to be told + that an English Señora would have dismissed me forever from her presence + for such a hint. ‘Your Excellency,’ I said, ‘deign, then, to find it good + that I should avoid giving offence to that man. It is not my desire to run + my neck into the iron collar.’” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me fixedly, as if expecting me to make a sign, then shrugged + his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Bueno</i>. You see this? Then look to it yourself, Señor. You are to + me even as Don Carlos—all except for the love. No English body is + big enough to receive his soul. No friend will be left that would risk his + very honour of a noble for a man like Tomas Castro. Let me warn you not to + leave the Casa, even if a shining angel stood outside the gate and called + you by name. The gate is barred, now, night and day. I have dropped a hint + to Cesar, and that old African knows more than the Señor would suppose. I + cannot tell how soon I may have the opportunity to talk to you again.” + </p> + <p> + He peeped through the crack of the door, then slipped out, suddenly + falling at once on his hands and knees, so as to be hidden by the stone + balustrade from anybody in the <i>patio</i>. He, too, did not think + himself safe. + </p> + <p> + Early in the evening I descended into the court, and Father Antonio, + walking up and down the <i>patio</i> with his eyes on his breviary, + muttered to me: + </p> + <p> + “Sit on this chair,” and went on without stopping. + </p> + <p> + I took a chair near the marble rim of the basin with its border of English + flowers, its splashing thread of water. The goldfishes that had been lying + motionless, with their heads pointing different ways, glided into a bunch + to the fall of my shadow, waiting for crumbs of bread. + </p> + <p> + Father Antonio, his head down, and the open breviary under his nose, + brushed my foot with the skirt of his cassock. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any plan?” + </p> + <p> + When he came back, walking very slowly, I said, “None.” + </p> + <p> + At this next turn I pronounced rapidly, “I should like to see Carlos.” + </p> + <p> + He frowned over the edge of the book. I understood that he refused to let + me in. And, after all, why should I disturb that dying man? The news about + him was that he felt stronger that day. But he was preparing for eternity. + Father Antonio’s business was to save souls. I felt horribly crushed and + alone. The priest asked, hardly moving his lips: “What do you trust to?” + </p> + <p> + I had the time to meditate my reply. “Tell Carlos I think of escape by + sea.” + </p> + <p> + He made a little sign of assent, turned off towards the staircase, and + went back to the sick room. + </p> + <p> + “The folly of it,” I thought. How could I think of it? Escape where? I + dared not even show myself outside the Casa. My safety within depended on + old Cesar more than on anybody else. He had the key of the gate, and the + gate was practically the only thing between me and a miserable death at + the hands of the first ruffian I met outside. And with the thought I + seemed to stifle in that <i>patio</i> open to the sky. + </p> + <p> + That gate seemed to cut off the breath of life from me. I was there, as if + in a trap. Should I—I asked myself—try to enlighten Don + Balthasar? Why not? He would understand me. I would tell him that in his + own town, as he always called Rio Medio, there lurked assassination for + his guest. That would move him if anything could. + </p> + <p> + He was then walking with O’Brien after dinner, as he had walked with me on + the day of my arrival. Only Seraphina had not appeared, and we three men + had sat out the silent meal alone. + </p> + <p> + They stopped as I approached, and Don Balthasar listened to me + benignantly. “Ah, yes, yes! Times have changed.” But there was no reason + for alarm. There were some undesirable persons. Had they not arrived + lately? He turned to O’Brien, who stood by, in readiness to resume the + walk, and answered, “Yes, quite lately. Very undesirable,” in a + matter-of-fact tone. The excellent Don Patricio would take measures to + have them removed, the old man soothed me. But it was not really dangerous + for any one to go out. Again he addressed O’Brien, who only smiled gently, + as much as to say, “What an absurdity!” I must not forget, continued the + old man, the veneration for the very name of Riego that still, thank + Heaven, survived in these godless and revolutionary times in the Riegos’ + own town. He straightened his back a little, looking at me with dignity, + and then glanced at the other, who inclined his head affirmatively. The + utter and complete hopelessness of the position appalled me for a moment. + The old man had not put foot outside his door for years, not even to go to + church. Father Antonio said Mass for him every day in the little chapel + next the dining room. When O’Brien—for his own purposes, and the + better to conceal his own connection with the Rio Medio piracies—had + persuaded him to go to Jamaica officially, he had been rowed in state to + the ship waiting outside. For many years now it had been impossible to + enlighten him as to the true condition of affairs. He listened to people’s + talk as though it had been children’s prattle. I have related how he + received Carlos’ denunciations. If one insisted, he would draw himself up + in displeasure. But in his decay he had preserved a great dignity, a grave + firmness that intimidated me a little. + </p> + <p> + I did not, of course, insist that evening, and, after giving me my + dismissal in a gesture of blessing, he resumed his engrossing conversation + with O’Brien. It related to the services commemorating his wife’s death, + those services that, once every twelve months, draped in black all the + churches in Havana. A hundred masses, no less, had to be said that day; a + distribution of alms had to be made. O’Brien was charged with all the + arrangements, and I caught, as they crept past me up and down the <i>patio</i>, + snatches of phrases relating to this mournful function, when all the + capital was invited to pray for the soul of the illustrious lady. The + priest of the church of San Antonio had said this and that; the grand + vicar of the diocese had made difficulties about something; however, by + the archbishop’s special grace, no less than three altars would be draped + in the cathedral. + </p> + <p> + I saw Don Balthasar smile with an ineffable satisfaction; he thanked + O’Brien for his zeal, and seemed to lean more familiarly on his arm. His + voice trembled with eagerness. “And now, my excellent Don Patricio, as to + the number of candles....” + </p> + <p> + I stood for a while as if rooted to the spot, overwhelmed by my + insignificance. O’Brien never once looked my way. Then, hanging my head, I + went slowly up the white staircase towards my room. + </p> + <p> + Cesar, going his rounds along the gallery, shuffled his silk-clad shanks + smartly between two young negroes balancing lanthorns suspended on the + shafts of their halberds. That little group had a mediaeval and outlandish + aspect. Cesar carried a bunch of keys in one hand, his staff of office in + the other. He stood aside, in his maroon velvet and gold lace, holding the + three-cornered hat under his arm, bowing his gray, woolly head—the + most venerable and deferential of majordomos. His attendants, backing + against the wall, grounded their halberds heavily at my approach. + </p> + <p> + He stepped out to intercept me, and, with great discretion, “Señor, a + word,” he said in his subdued voice. “A moment ago I have been called + within the door of our senorita’s apartments. She has given me this for + your worship, together with many compliments. It is a seal. The Señor will + understand.” + </p> + <p> + I took it; it was a tiny seal with her monogram on it. “Yes,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “And Señorita Dona Seraphina has charged me to repeat”—he made a + stealthy sign, as if to counteract an evil influence—“the words, + ‘Two lives—one death.’ The Señor will understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, looking away with a pang at my heart. He touched my elbow. + “And to trust Cesar. Señor, I dandled her when she was quite little. Let + me most earnestly urge upon your worship not to go near the windows, + especially if there is light in your worship’s room. Evil men are gazing + upon the house, and I have seen myself the glint of a musket at the end of + the street. The moon grows fast, too. The senorita begs you to trust + Cesar.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there many men?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not many in sight; I have seen only one. But by signs, open to a man of + my experience, I suspect many more to be about.” Then, as I looked down on + the ground, he added parenthetically, “They are poor shots, one and all, + lacking the very firmness of manhood necessary to discharge a piece with a + good aim. Still, Señor, I am ordered to entreat you to be cautious. + Strange it is that to-night, from the great revelry at the Aldea Bajo, one + might think they had just visited an English ship outside.” + </p> + <p> + A ship! a ship! of any sort. But how to get out of the Casa? Murder + forbade me even as much as to look out of the windows. Was there a ship + outside? Cesar was positive there was not—not since I had arrived. + Besides, the empty sea itself was unattainable, it seemed. I pressed the + seal to my lips. “Tell the senorita how I received her gift,” I said; and + the old negro inclined his head lower still. “Tell her that as the letters + of her name are graved on this, so are all the words she has spoken graven + on my heart.” + </p> + <p> + They went away busily, the lanthorns swinging about the ax-heads of the + halberds, Cesar’s staff tapping the stones. + </p> + <p> + I shut my door, and buried my face in the pillows of the state bed. My + mental anguish was excessive; action, alone, could relieve it. I had been + battling with my thoughts like a man fighting with shadows. I could see no + issue to such a struggle, and I prayed for something tangible to encounter—something + that one could overcome or go under to. I must have fallen suddenly + asleep, because there was a lion in front of me. It lashed its tail, and + beyond the indistinct agitation of the brute I saw Seraphina. I tried to + shout to her; no voice came out of my throat. And the lion produced a + strange noise; he opened his jaws like a door. I sat up. It was like a + change of dream. A glare filled my eyes. In the wide doorway of my room, + in a group of attendants, I saw a figure in a short black cloak standing, + hat on head, and an arm outstretched. It was Don Balthasar. He held + himself more erect than I had ever seen him before. Stifled sounds of + weeping, a vast, confused rumour of lamentations, running feet and + flamming doors, came from behind him; his aged, dry voice, much firmer and + very distinct, was speaking to me. + </p> + <p> + “You are summoned to attend the bedside of Don Carlos Riego at the hour of + death, to help his soul struggling on the threshold of eternity, with your + prayers—as a kinsman and a friend.” + </p> + <p> + A great draught swayed the lights about that black and courtly figure. All + the windows and doors of the palace had been flung open for the departure + of the struggling soul. Don Balthasar turned; the group of attendants was + gone in a moment, with a tramp of feet and jostling of lights in the long + gallery. + </p> + <p> + I ran out after them. A wavering glare came from under the arch, and, + through the open gate, I saw the bulky shape of the bishop’s coach waiting + outside in the moonlight. A strip of cloth fell from step to step down the + middle of the broad white stairs. The staircase was brilliantly lighted, + and quite empty. The household was crowding the upper galleries; the + sobbing murmurs of their voices fell into the deserted <i>patio</i>. The + strip of crimson cloth laid for the bishop ran across it from the arch of + the stairway to the entrance. + </p> + <p> + The door of Carlos’ room stood wide open; I saw the many candles on a + table covered with white linen, the side of the big bed, surpliced figures + moving within the room. There was the ringing of small bells, and sighing + groans from the kneeling forms in the gallery through which I was making + my way slowly. + </p> + <p> + Castro appeared at my side suddenly. “Señor,” he began, with saturnine + stoicism, “he is dead. I have seen battlefields———” His + voice broke. + </p> + <p> + I saw, through the large portal of the death-chamber, Don Balthasar and + Seraphina standing at the foot of the bed; the bowed heads of two priests; + the bishop, a tiny old man, in his vestments; and Father Antonio, burly + and motionless, with his chin in his hand, as if left behind after leading + that soul to the very gate of Eternity. All about me, women and men were + crossing themselves; and Castro, who for a moment had covered his eyes + with his hand, touched my elbow. + </p> + <p> + “And you live,” he said, with sombre emphasis; then, warningly, “You are + in great danger now.” + </p> + <p> + I looked around, as if expecting to see an uplifted knife. I saw only a + lot of people—household negroes and the women—rising from + their knees. Below, the <i>patio</i> was empty. + </p> + <p> + “The house is defenceless,” Castro continued. We heard tumultuous voices + under the gate. O’Brien appeared in the doorway of Carlos’ room with an + attentive and dismayed expression on his face. I do not really think he + had anything to do with what then took place. He meant to have me killed + outside; but the rabble, excited by Manuel’s inflammatory speeches, had + that night started from the villages below with the intention of + clamouring for my life. Many of their women were with them. Some of the + __Lugareños__ carried torches, others had pikes; most of them, however, + had nothing but their long knives. They came in a disorderly, shouting mob + along the beach, intending this not for an attack, but as a simple + demonstration. + </p> + <p> + The sight of the open gate struck them with wonder. The bishop’s coach + blocked the entrance, and for a time they hesitated, awed by the mystery + of the house and by the rites going on in there. Then two or three bolder + spirits stole closer. The bishop’s people, of course, did not think of + offering any resistance. The very defencelessness of the house restrained + the mob for a while. A few more men from outside ran in. Several women + began to clamour scoldingly to them to bring the <i>Inglez</i> out. Then + the men, encouraging each other in their audacity, advanced further under + the arch. + </p> + <p> + A solitary black, the only guard left at the gate, shouted at them, “<i>Arria!</i> + Go back!” It had no effect. More of them crowded in, though, of course, + the greater part of that mob remained outside. The black rolled big eyes. + He could not stop them; he did not like to leave his post; he dared not + fire. “Go back! Go back!” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Not without the <i>Inglez</i>,” they answered. + </p> + <p> + The tumult we had heard arose when the <i>Lugareños</i> suddenly fell upon + the sentry, and wrenched his musket from him. + </p> + <p> + This man, when disarmed, ran away. I saw him running across the <i>patio</i>, + on the crimson pathway, to the foot of the staircase. His shouting, “The + <i>Lugareños</i> have risen!” broke upon the hush of mourning. Father + Antonio made a brusque movement, and Seraphina sent a startled glance in + my direction. + </p> + <p> + The cloistered court, with its marble basin and a jet of water in the + centre, remained empty for a moment after the negro had run across; a + growing clamour penetrated into it. In the midst of it I heard O’Brien’s + voice saying, “Why don’t they shut the gate?” Immediately afterwards a + woman in the gallery cried out in surprise, and I saw the <i>Lugareños</i> + pour into the <i>patio</i>. + </p> + <p> + For a time that motley group of bandits stood in the light, as if + intimidated by the great dignity of the house, by the mysterious prestige + of the Casa whose interior, probably, none of them had ever seen before. + They gazed about silently, as if surprised to find themselves there. + </p> + <p> + It looked as if they would have retired if they had not caught sight of + me. A murmur of “the <i>Inglez</i>” arose at once. By that time the + household negroes had occupied the staircase with what weapons they could + find upstairs. + </p> + <p> + Father Antonio pushed past O’Brien out of the room, and shook his arms + over the balustrade. + </p> + <p> + “Impious men,” he cried, “begone from this house of death.” His eyes + flashed at the ruffians, who stared stupidly from below. + </p> + <p> + “Give us the <i>Inglez</i>,” they growled. Seraphina, from within, cried, + “Juan.” I was then near the door, but not within the room. + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Inglez!</i> The heretic! The traitor!” came in sullen, subdued + mutter. A hoarse, reckless voice shouted, “Give him to us, and we shall + go!” + </p> + <p> + “You are putting in danger all the lives in this house!” O’Brien hissed at + me. “Señorita, pray do not.” He stood in the way of Seraphina, who wished + to come out. + </p> + <p> + “It is you!” she cried. “It is you! It is your voice, it is your hand, it + is your iniquity!” + </p> + <p> + He was confounded by her vehemence. + </p> + <p> + “Who brought him here?” he stammered. “Am I to find one of that accursed + brood forever in my way? I take him to witness that for your sake———” + </p> + <p> + A formidable roar, “Throw us down the <i>Inglez!</i>” filled the <i>patio</i>. + They were gaining assurance down there; and the ferocious clamouring of + the mob outside came faintly upon our ears. + </p> + <p> + O’Brien barred the way. Don Balthasar leaned on his daughter’s arm—she + very straight, with tears still on her face and indignation in her eye, he + bowed, and with his immovable fine features set in the calmness of age. + Behind that group there were two priests, one with a scared, white face, + another, black-browed, with an exalted and fanatical aspect. The light of + the candles from the improvised altar fell on the bishop’s small, bald + head, emerging with a patient droop from the wide spread of his cope, as + though he had been inclosed in a portable gold shrine. He was ready to go. + </p> + <p> + Don Balthasar, who seemed to have heard nothing, as if suddenly waking up + to his duty, left his daughter, and muttering to O’Brien, “Let me precede + the bishop,” came out, bare-headed, into the gallery. Father Antonio had + turned away, and his heavy hand fell on O’Brien’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Have you no heart, no reverence, no decency?” he said. “In the name of + everything you respect, I call upon you to stop this sacrilegious + outbreak.” + </p> + <p> + O’Brien shook off the priestly hand, and fixed his eyes upon Seraphina. I + happened to be looking at his face; he seemed to be ready to go out of his + mind. His jealousy, the awful torment of soul and body, made him + motionless and speechless. + </p> + <p> + Seeing Don Balthasar appear by the balustrade, the ruffians below had + become silent for a while. His aged, mechanical voice was heard asking + distinctly: + </p> + <p> + “What do these people want?” + </p> + <p> + Seraphina, from within the room, said aloud, “They are clamouring for the + life of our guest.” She looked at O’Brien contemptuously, “They are doing + this to please you.” + </p> + <p> + “Before God, I have nothing to do with this.” + </p> + <p> + It was true enough, he had nothing to do with this outbreak; and I believe + he would have interfered, but, in his dismay at having lost himself in the + eyes of Seraphina, in his rage against myself, he did not know how to act. + No doubt he had been deceiving himself as to his position with Seraphina. + He was a man who in his wishes. His desire of revenge on me, the downfall + of his hopes (he could no longer deceive himself), a desperate striving of + thought for their regaining, his impulse towards the impossible—all + these emotions paralyzed his will. + </p> + <p> + Don Balthasar beckoned to me. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t go near him,” said O’Brien, in a thick, mumbling voice. “I shall———I + must———” + </p> + <p> + I put him aside. Don Balthasar took my arm. “Misguided populace,” he + whispered. “They have been a source of sorrow to me lately. But this + wicked folly is incredible. I shall call upon them to come to their + senses. My voice———” + </p> + <p> + The court below was strongly lighted, so that I saw the bearded, bronzed, + wild faces of the <i>Lugareños</i> looking up. We, also, were strongly + shown by the light of the doorway behind us, and by the torches burning in + the gallery. + </p> + <p> + That morning, in my helplessness, I had come to put my trust in accident—in + some accident—I hardly knew of what nature—my own death, + perhaps—that would find a solution for my responsibilities, put an + end to my tormenting thoughts. And now the accident came with a terrible + swiftness, at which I shudder to this day. + </p> + <p> + We were looking down into the <i>patio</i>. Don Balthasar had just said, + “You are nowhere as safe as by my side,” when I noticed a <i>Lugareño</i> + withdrawing himself from the throng about the basin. His face came to me + familiarly. He was the pirate with the broken nose, who had had a taste of + my fist. He had the sentry’s musket on his shoulder, and was slinking away + towards the gate. + </p> + <p> + Don Balthasar extended his hand over the balustrade, and there was a + general movement of recoil below. I wondered why the slaves on the stairs + did not charge and clear the <i>patio</i>; but I suppose with such a mob + outside there was a natural hesitation in bringing the position to an + issue. The <i>Lugareños</i> were muttering, “Look at the <i>Inglez!</i>” + then cried out together, “Excellency, give up this <i>Inglez!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Don Balthasar seemed ten years younger suddenly. I had never seen him so + imposingly erect. + </p> + <p> + “Insensate!” he began, without any anger. + </p> + <p> + “He is going to fire!” yelled Castro’s voice somewhere in the gallery. + </p> + <p> + I saw a red dart in the shadow of the gate. The broken-nosed pirate had + fired at me. The report, deadened in the vault, hardly reached my ears. + Don Balthazar’s arm seemed to swing me back. Then I felt him lean heavily + on my shoulder. I did not know what had happened till I heard him say: + </p> + <p> + “Pray for me, gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + Father Antonio received him in his arms. + </p> + <p> + For a second after the shot, the most dead silence prevailed in the court. + It was broken by an affrighted howl below: and Seraphina’s voice cried + piercingly: + </p> + <p> + “Father!” + </p> + <p> + The priest, dropping on one knee, sustained the silvery head, with its + thin features already calm in death. Don Balthasar had saved my life; and + his daughter flung herself upon the body. O’Brien pressed his hands to his + temples, and remained motionless. + </p> + <p> + I saw the bishop, in his stiff cope, creep up to the group with the motion + of a tortoise. And, for a moment, his quavering voice pronouncing the + absolution was the only sound in the house. + </p> + <p> + Then a most fiendish noise broke out below. The negroes had charged, and + the <i>Lugareños</i>, struck with terror at the unforeseen catastrophe, + were rushing helter-skelter through the gate. The screaming of the maids + was frightful. They ran up and down the galleries with their hair + streaming. O’Brien passed me by swiftly, muttering like a madman. + </p> + <p> + I, also, got down into the courtyard in time to strike some heavy blows + under the gateway; but I don’t know who it was that thrust into my hands + the musket which I used as a club. The sudden burst of shrieks, the cries + of terror under the vault of the gate, yells of rage and consternation, + silenced the mob outside. The <i>Lugareños</i>, appalled at what had + happened, shouted most pitifully. They squeaked like the vermin they were. + I brought down the clubbed musket; two went down. Of two I am sure. The + rush of flying feet swept through between the walls, bearing me along. For + a time a black stream of men eddied in the moonlight round the bishop’s + coach, like a torrent breaking round a boulder. The great heavy machine + rocked, mules plunged, torches swayed. + </p> + <p> + The archway had been cleared. Outside, the slaves were forming in the open + space before the Casa, while Cesar, with a few others, laboured to swing + the heavy gates to. Hats, torn cloaks, knives strewed the flagstones, and + the dim light of the lamps, fastened high up on the walls, fell on the + faces of three men stretched out on their backs. Another, lying huddled up + in a heap, got up suddenly and rushed out. + </p> + <p> + The thought of Seraphina clinging to the lifeless body of her father + upstairs came to me; it came over me in horror, and I let the musket fall + out of my hand. A silence like the silence of despair reigned in the + house. She would hate me now. I felt as if I could walk out and give + myself up, had it not been for the sight of O’Brien. + </p> + <p> + He was leaning his shoulders against the wall in the posture of a man + suddenly overcome by a deadly disease. No one was looking at us. It came + to me that he could not have many illusions left to him now. He looked up + wearily, saw me, and, waking up at once, thrust his hands into the pockets + of his breeches. I thought of his pistol. No wild hope of love would + prevent him, now, from killing me outright. The fatal shot that had put an + end to Don Balthasar’s life must have brought to him an awakening worse + than death. I made one stride, caught him by both arms swiftly, and pinned + him to the wall with all my strength. We struggled in silence. + </p> + <p> + I found him much more vigorous than I had expected; but, at the same time, + I felt at once that I was more than a match for him. We did not say a + word. We made no noise. But, in our struggle, we got away from the wall + into the middle of the gateway I dared not let go of his arms to take him + by the throat. He only tried to jerk and wrench himself away. Had he + succeeded, it would have been death for me. We never moved our feet from + the spot, fairly in the middle of the archway but nearer to the gate than + to the <i>patio</i>. The slaves, formed outside, guarded the bishop’s + coach, and I do not know that there was anybody else actually with us + under the vault of the entrance. We glared into each other’s faces, and + the world seemed very still around us. I felt in me a passion—not of + hate, but of determination to be done with him; and from his face it was + impossible to guess his suffering, his despair, or his rage. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of our straining I heard a sibilant sound. I detached my eyes + from his; his struggles redoubled, and, behind him, stealing in towards us + from the court, black on the strip of crimson cloth, I saw Tomas Castro. + He flung his cloak back. The light of the lanthorn under the keystone of + the arch glimmered feebly on the blade of his maimed arm. He made a + discreet and bloodcurdling gesture to me with the other. + </p> + <p> + How could I hold a man so that he should be stabbed from behind in my + arms? Castro was running up swiftly, his cloak opening like a pair of + sable wings. Collecting all my strength, I forced O’Brien round, and we + swung about in a flash. Now he had his back to the gate. My effort seemed + to have uprooted him. I felt him give way all over. + </p> + <p> + As soon as our position had changed, Castro checked himself, and stepped + aside into the shadow of the guardroom doorway. I don’t think O’Brien had + been aware of what had been going on. His strength was overborne by mine. + I drove him backwards. His eyes blinked wildly. He bared his teeth. He + resisted, as though I had been forcing him over the brink of perdition. + His feet clung to the flagstones. I shook him till his head rolled. + </p> + <p> + “Viper brood!” he spluttered. + </p> + <p> + “Out you go!” I hissed. + </p> + <p> + I had found nothing heroic, nothing romantic to say—nothing that + would express my desperate resolve to rid the world of his presence. All I + could do was to fling him out. The Casa Riego was all my world—a + World full of great pain, great mourning, and love. I saw him pitch + headlong under the wheels of the bishop’s enormous carriage. The black + coachman who had sat aloft, unmoved through all the tumult, in his white + stockings and three-cornered hat, glanced down from his high box. And the + two parts of the gate came together with a clang of ironwork and a heavy + crash that seemed as loud as thunder under that vault. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER SIX + </h3> + <p> + Not even in memory am I willing to live over again those three days when + Father Antonio, the old major-domo, and myself would meet each other in + the galleries, in the <i>patio</i>, in the empty rooms, moving in the + stillness of the house with heavy hearts and desolate eyes, which seemed + to demand, “What is there to do?” + </p> + <p> + Of course, precautions were taken against the Lugareños. They were + besieging the Casa from afar. They had established a sort of camp at the + end of the street, and they prowled about amongst the old, barricaded + houses in their pointed hats, in their rags and finery; women, with food, + passed constantly between the villages and the panic-stricken town; there + were groups on the beach; and one of the schooners had been towed down the + bay, and was lying, now, moored stem and stern opposite the great gate. + They did nothing whatever active against us. They lay around and watched, + as if in pursuance of a plan traced by a superior authority. They were + watching for me. But when, by some mischance, they burnt the roof off the + outbuildings that were at some distance from the Casa, their chiefs sent + up a deputation of three, with apologies. Those men came unarmed, and, as + it were, under Castro’s protection, and absolutely whimpered with regrets + before Father Antonio. “Would his reverence kindly intercede with the most + noble senorita?...” + </p> + <p> + “Silence! Dare not pronounce her name!” thundered the good priest, + snatching away his hand, which they attempted to grab and kiss. + </p> + <p> + I, in the background, noted their black looks at me even as they cringed. + The man who had fired the shot, they said, had expired of his wounds after + great torments. Their other dead had been thrust out of the gate before. A + long fellow, with slanting eyebrows and a scar on his cheek, called El + Rechado, tried to inform Cesar, confidentially, that Manuel, his friend, + had been opposed to any encroachment of the Casa’s offices, only: “That + Domingo———” + </p> + <p> + As soon as we discovered what was their object (their apparent object, at + any rate), they were pushed out of the gate unceremoniously,—still + protesting their love and respect—by the Riego negroes. Castro + followed them out again, after exchanging a meaning look with Father + Antonio. To live in the two camps, as it were, was a triumph of Castro’s + diplomacy, of his saturnine mysteriousness. He kept us in touch with the + outer world, coming in under all sorts of pretences, mostly with messages + from the bishop, or escorting the priests that came in relays to pray by + the bodies of the two last Riegos lying in state, side by side, rigid in + black velvet and white lace ruffles, on the great bed dragged out into the + middle of the room. + </p> + <p> + Two enormous wax torches in iron stands flamed and guttered at the door; a + black cloth draped the emblazoned shields; and the wind from the sea, + blowing through the open casement, inclined all together the flames of a + hundred candles, pale in the sunlight, extremely ardent in the night. The + murmur of prayers for these souls went on incessantly; I have it in my + ears now. There would be always some figure of the household kneeling in + prayer at the door; or the old major-domo would come in to stand at the + foot, motionless for a time; or, through the open door, I would see the + cassock of Father Antonio, flung on his knees, with his forehead resting + on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped above his tonsure. + </p> + <p> + Apart from what was necessary for defence, all the life of the house + seemed stopped. Not a woman appeared; all the doors were closed; and the + numbing desolation of a great bereavement was symbolized by Don + Bal-thasar’s chair in the <i>patio</i>, which had remained lying + overturned in full view of every part of the house, till I could bear the + sight no longer, and asked Cesar to have it put away. “<i>Si, Señor</i>,” + he said deferentially, and a few tears ran suddenly down his withered + cheeks. The English flowers had been trampled down; an unclean hat floated + on the basin, now here, now there, frightening the goldfish from one side + to the other. + </p> + <p> + And Seraphina. It seems not fitting that I should write of her in these + days. I hardly dared let my thoughts approach her, but I had to think of + her all the time. Her sorrow was the very soul of the house. + </p> + <p> + Shortly after I had thrown O’Brien out the bishop had left, and then I + learned from Father Antonio that Seraphina had been carried away to her + own apartments in a fainting condition. The excellent man was almost + incoherent with distress and trouble of mind, and walked up and down, his + big head drooping on his capacious chest, the joints of his entwined + fingers cracking. I had met him in the gallery, as I was making my way + back to Carlos’ room in anxiety and fear, and we had stepped aside into a + large saloon, seldom used, above the gateway. I shall never forget the + restless, swift pacing of that burly figure, while, feeling utterly + crushed, now the excitement was over, I leaned against a console. Three + long bands of moonlight fell, chilly bluish, into the vast room, with its + French Empire furniture stiffly arranged about the white walls. + </p> + <p> + “And that man?” he asked me at last. + </p> + <p> + “I could have killed him with my own hands,” I said. “I was the stronger. + He had his pistols on him, I am certain, only I could not be a party to an + assassination....” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my son, it would have been no sin to have exerted the strength which + God had blessed you with,” he interrupted. “We are allowed to kill + venomous snakes, wild beasts; we are given our strength for that, our + intelligence....” And all the time he walked about, wringing his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your reverence,” I said, feeling the most miserable and helpless of + lovers on earth; “but there was no time. If I had not thrown him out, + Castro would have stabbed him in the back in my very hands. And that would + have been———” Words failed me. + </p> + <p> + I had been obliged not only to desist myself, but to save his life from + Castro. I had been obliged! There had been no option. Murderous enemy as + he was, it seemed to me I should never have slept a wink all the rest of + my life. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is just, it is just. What else? Alas!” Father Antonio repeated + disconnectedly. “Those feelings implanted in your breast——I + have served my king, as you know, in my sacred calling, but in the midst + of war, which is the outcome of the wickedness natural to our fallen + state. I understand; I understand. It may be that God, in his mercy, did + not wish the death of that evil man—not yet, perhaps. Let us submit. + He may repent.” He snuffled aloud. “I think of that poor child,” he said + through his handkerchief. Then, pressing my arm with his vigorous fingers, + he murmured, “I fear for her reason.” + </p> + <p> + It may be imagined in what state I spent the rest of that sleepless night. + At times, the thought that I was the cause of her bereavement nearly drove + me mad. + </p> + <p> + And there was the danger, too. + </p> + <p> + But what else could I have done? My whole soul had recoiled from the + horrible help Castro was bringing us at the point of his blade. No love + could demand from me such a sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + Next day Father Antonio was calmer. To my trembling inquiries he said + something consolatory as to the blessed relief of tears. When not praying + fervently in the mortuary chamber, he could be seen pacing the gallery in + a severe aloofness of meditation. In the evening he took me by the arm, + and, without a word, led me up a narrow and winding staircase. He pushed a + small door, and we stepped out on a flat part of the roof, flooded in + moonlight. + </p> + <p> + The points of land dark with the shadows of trees and broken ground + clasped the waters of the bay, with a body of shining white mists in the + centre; and, beyond, the vast level of the open sea, touched with glitter, + appeared infinitely sombre under the luminous sky. + </p> + <p> + We stood back from the parapet, and Father Antonio threw out a thick arm + at the splendid trail of the moon upon the dark water. + </p> + <p> + “This is the only way,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He had a warm heart under his black robe, a simple and courageous + comprehension of life, this priest who was very much of a man; a certain + grandeur of resolution when it was a matter of what he regarded as his + principal office. + </p> + <p> + “This is the way,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + Never before had I been struck so much by the gloom, the vastness, the + emptiness of the open sea, as on that moonlight night. And Father + Antonio’s deep voice went on: + </p> + <p> + “My son, since God has made use of the nobility of your heart to save that + sinner from an unshriven death———” + </p> + <p> + He paused to mutter, “Inscrutable! inscrutable!” to himself, sighed, and + then: + </p> + <p> + “Let us rejoice,” he continued, with a completely unconcealed resignation, + “that you have been the chosen instrument to afford him an opportunity to + repent.” + </p> + <p> + His tone changed suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “He will never repent,” he said with great force. “He has sold his soul + and body to the devil, like those magicians of old of whom we have + records.” + </p> + <p> + He clicked his tongue with compunction, and regretted his want of charity. + It was proper for me, however, as a man having to deal with a world of + wickedness and error, to act as though I did not believe in his + repentance. + </p> + <p> + “The hardness of the human heart is incredible; I have seen the most + appalling examples.” And the priest meditated. “He is not a common + criminal, however,” he added profoundly. + </p> + <p> + It was true. He was a man of illusions, ministering to passions that + uplifted him above the fear of consequences, Young as I was, I understood + that, too. There was no safety for us in Cuba while he lived. Father + Antonio nodded dismally. + </p> + <p> + “Where to go?” I asked. “Where to turn? Whom can we trust? In whom can we + repose the slightest confidence? Where can we look for hope?” + </p> + <p> + Again the <i>padre</i> pointed to the sea. The hopeless aspect of its + moonlit and darkling calm struck me so forcibly that I did not even ask + how he proposed to get us out there. I only made a gesture of + discouragement. Outside the Casa, my life was not worth ten minutes’ + purchase. And how could I risk her there? How could I propose to her to + follow me to an almost certain death? What could be the issue of such an + adventure? How could we hope to devise such secret means of getting away + as would prevent the <i>Lugareños</i> pursuing us? I should perish, then, + and she... + </p> + <p> + Father Antonio seemed to lose his self-control suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he cried. “The sea is a perfidious element, but what is it to the + blind malevolence of men?” He gripped my shoulder. “The risk to her life,” + he cried; “the risk of drowning, of hunger, of thirst—that is all + the sea can do. I do not think of that. I love her too much. She is my + very own spiritual child; and I tell you, Señor, that the unholy intrigue + of that man endangers not her happiness, not her fortune alone—it + endangers her innocent soul itself.” + </p> + <p> + A profound silence ensued. I remembered that his business was to save + souls. This old man loved that young girl whom he had watched growing up, + defenceless in her own home; he loved her with a great strength of + paternal instinct that no vow of celibacy can extinguish, and with a + heroic sense of his priestly duty. And I was not to say him nay. The sea—so + be it. It was easier to think of her dead than to think of her immured; it + was better that she should be the victim of the sea than of evil men; that + she should be lost with me than to me. + </p> + <p> + Father Antonio, with that naïve sense of the poetry of the sky he + possessed, apostrophized the moon, the “gentle orb,” as he called it, + which ought to be weary of looking at the miseries of the earth. His + immense shadow on the leads seemed to fling two vast fists over the + parapet, as if to strike at the enemies below, and without discussing any + specific plan we descended. It was understood that Seraphina and I should + try to escape—I won’t say by sea, but to the sea. At best, to ask + the charitable help of some passing ship, at worst to go out of the world + together. + </p> + <p> + I had her confidence. I will not tell of my interview with her; but I + shall never forget my sensations of awe, as if entering a temple, the + melancholy and soothing intimacy of our meeting, the dimly lit loftiness + of the room, the vague form of La Chica in the background, and the frail, + girlish figure in black with a very pale, delicate face. Father Antonio + was the only other person present, and chided her for giving way to grief. + “It is like rebellion—like rebellion,” he denounced, turning away + his head to wipe a tear hastily; and I wondered and thanked God that I + should be a comfort to that tender young girl, whose lot on earth had been + difficult, whose sorrow was great but could not overwhelm her indomitable + spirit, which held a promise of sweetness and love. + </p> + <p> + Her courage was manifest to me in the gentle and sad tones of her voice. I + made her sit in a vast armchair of tapestry, in which she looked lost like + a little child, and I took a stool at her feet. This is an unforgettable + hour in my life in which not a word of love was spoken, which is not to be + written of. The burly shadow of the priest lay motionless from the window + right across the room; the flickering flame of a silver lamp made an + unsteady white circle of light on the lofty ceiling above her head. A + clock was beating gravely somewhere in the distant gloom, like the + unperturbed heart of that silence, in which our understanding of each + other was growing, even into a strength fit to withstand every tempest. + </p> + <p> + “Escape by the sea,” I said aloud. “It would be, at least, like two lovers + leaping hand in hand off a high rock, and nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + Father Antonio’s bass voice spoke behind us. + </p> + <p> + “It is better to jeopardize the sinful body that returns to the dust of + which it is made than the redeemed soul, whose awful lot is eternity. + Reflect.” + </p> + <p> + Seraphina hung her head, but her hand did not tremble in mine. + </p> + <p> + “My daughter,” the old man continued, “you have to confide your fate to a + noble youth of elevated sentiments, and of a truly chivalrous heart....” + </p> + <p> + “I trust him,” said Seraphina. + </p> + <p> + And, as I heard her say this, it seemed really to me as if, in very truth, + my sentiments were noble and my heart chivalrous. Such is the power of a + girl’s voice. The door closed on us, and I felt very humble. + </p> + <p> + But in the gallery Father Antonio leaned heavily on my shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be a lonely old man,” he whispered faintly. “After all these + years! Two great nobles; the end of a great house—a child I had seen + grow up.... But I am less afraid for her now.” + </p> + <p> + I shall not relate all the plans we made and rejected. Everything seemed + impossible. We knew from Castro that O’Brien had gone to Havana, either to + take the news of Don Balthasar’s death himself, or else to prevent the + news spreading there too soon. Whatever his motive for leaving Rio Medio, + he had left orders that the house should be respected under the most awful + penalties, and that it should be watched so that no one left it. The + Englishman was to be killed at sight. Not a hair on anybody else’s head + was to be touched. + </p> + <p> + To escape seemed impossible; then on the third day the thing came to pass. + The way was found. Castro, who served me as if Carlos’ soul had passed + into my body, but looked at me with a saturnine disdain, had arranged it + all with Father Antonio. + </p> + <p> + It was the day of the burial of Carlos and Don Balthasar. That same day + Castro had heard that a ship had been seen becalmed a long way out to sea. + It was a great opportunity; and the funeral procession would give the + occasion for my escape. There was in Rio Medio, as in all Spanish towns + amongst the respectable part of the population, a confraternity for + burying the dead, “The Brothers of Pity,” who, clothed in black robes and + cowls, with only two holes for the eyes, carried the dead to their + resting-place, unrecognizable and unrecognized in that pious work. A + “Brother of Pity” dress would be brought for me into Father Antonio’s + room. Castro was confident as to his ability of getting a boat. It would + be a very small and dangerous one, but what would I have, if I neither + killed my enemy, nor let any one else kill him for me, he commented with + sombre sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + A truce of God had been called, and the burial was to take place in the + evening when the mortal remains of the last of the Riegos would be laid in + the vault of the cathedral of what had been known as their own province, + and had, in fact, been so for a time under a grant from Charles V. + </p> + <p> + Early in the day I had a short interview with Seraphina. She was resolute. + Then, long before dark, I slipped into Father Antonio’s room, where I was + to stay until the moment to come out and mingle with the throng of other + Brothers of Pity. Once with the bodies in the crypt of the cathedral, I + was to await Seraphina there, and, together, we should slip through a side + door on to the shore. Cesar, to throw any observer off the scent (three <i>Lugareños</i> + were to be admitted to see the bodies put in their coffins), posted two of + the Riego negroes with loaded muskets on guard before the door of my empty + room, as if to protect me. + </p> + <p> + Then, just as dusk fell, Father Antonio, who had been praying silently in + a corner, got up, blew his nose, sighed, and suddenly enfolded me in his + powerful arms for an instant. + </p> + <p> + “I am an old man—a poor priest,” he whispered jerkily into my ear, + “and the sea is very perfidious. And yet it favours the sons of your + nation. But, remember—the child has no one but you. Spare her.” + </p> + <p> + He went off; stopped. “Inscrutable! inscrutable!” he murmured, lifting + upwards his eyes. He raised his hand with a solemn slowness. “An old man’s + blessing can do no harm,” he said humbly. I bowed my head. My heart was + too full for speech, and the door closed. I never saw him again, except + later on in his surplice for a moment at the gate, his great bass voice + distinct in the chanting of the priests conducting the bodies. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Lugareños</i> would respect the truce arranged by the bishop. + </p> + <p> + No man of them but the three had entered the Casa. Already, early in the + night, their black-haired women, with coarse faces and melancholy eyes, + were kneeling in rows under the black <i>mantillas</i> on the stone floor + of the cathedral, praying for the repose of the soul of Seraphina’s + father, of that old man who had lived among them, unapproachable, almost + invisible, and as if infinitely removed. They had venerated him, and many + of them had never set eyes on his person. + </p> + <p> + It strikes me, now, as strange and significant of a mysterious human need, + the need to look upwards towards a superiority inexpressibly remote, the + need of something to idealize in life. They had only that and, maybe, a + sort of love as idealized and as personal for the mother of God, whom, + also, they had never seen, to whom they trusted to save them from a devil + as real. And they had, moreover, a fear even more real of O’Brien. + </p> + <p> + And, when one comes to think of it, in putting on the long spectacled robe + of a Brother of Pity, in walking before the staggering bearers of the + great coffin with a tall crucifix in my hand, in thus taking advantage of + their truce of God, I was, also, taking advantage of what was undoubtedly + their honour—a thing that handicapped them quite as much as had mine + when I found myself unable to strike down O’Brien. At that time, I was a + great deal too excited to consider this, however. I had many things to + think of, and the immense necessity of keeping a cool head. + </p> + <p> + It was, after all, Tomas Castro to whom all the credit of the thing + belonged. Just after it had fallen very dark, he brought me the black + robes, a pair of heavy pistols to gird on under them, and the heavy staff + topped by a crucifix. He had an air of sarcastic protest in the dim light + of my room, and he explained with exaggeratedly plain words precisely what + I was to do—which, as a matter of fact, was neither more nor less + than merely following in his own footsteps. + </p> + <p> + “And, oh, Señor,” he said sardonically, “if you desire again to pillow + your head upon the breast of your mother; if you would again see your + sister, who, alas! by bewitching my Carlos, is at the heart of all our + troubles; if you desire again to see that dismal land of yours, which + politeness forbids me to curse, I would beg of you not to let the mad fury + of your nation break loose in the midst of these thieves and scoundrels.” + </p> + <p> + He peered intently into the spectacled eyeholes of my cowl, and laid his + hand on his sword-hilt. His small figure, tightly clothed in black velvet + from chin to knee, swayed gently backwards and forwards in the light of + the dim candle, and his grotesque shadow flitted over the ghostly walls of + the great room. He stood gazing silently for a minute, then turned smartly + on his heels, and, with a gesture of sardonic respect, threw open the door + for me. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, Señor,” he said, “that the moon may not rise too soon.” + </p> + <p> + We went swiftly down the colonnades for the last time, in the pitch + darkness and into the blackness of the vast archway. The clumping staff of + my heavy crucifix drew hollow echoes from the flagstones. In the deep sort + of cave behind us, lit by a dim lanthorn, the negroes waited to unbar the + doors. Castro himself began to mutter over his beads. Suddenly he said: + </p> + <p> + “It is the last time I shall stand here. Now, there is not any more a + place for me on the earth.” + </p> + <p> + Great flashes of light began to make suddenly visible the tall pillars of + the immense mournful palace, and after a long time, absolutely without a + sound, save the sputter of enormous torches, an incredibly ghostly body of + figures, black-robed from head to foot, with large eyeholes peering + fantastically, swayed into the great arch of the hall. Above them was the + enormous black coffin. It was a sight so appalling and unexpected that I + stood gazing at them without any power to move, until I remembered that I, + too, was such a figure. And then, with an ejaculation of impatience, Tomas + Castro caught at my hand, and whirled me round. + </p> + <p> + The great doors had swung noiselessly open, and the black night, + bespangled with little flames, was framed in front of me. He suddenly + unsheathed his portentous sword, and, hanging his great hat upon his + maimed arm, stalked, a pathetic and sinister figure of grief, down the + great steps. I followed him in the vivid and extraordinary compulsion of + the sinister body that, like one fabulous and enormous monster, swayed + impenetrably after me. + </p> + <p> + My heart beat till my head was in a tumultuous whirl, when thus, at last, + I stepped out of that house—but I suppose my grim robes cloaked my + emotions—though, seeing very clearly through the eyeholes, it was + almost incredible to me that I was not myself seen. But these Brothers of + Pity were a secret society, known to no man except their spiritual head, + who chose them in turn, and not knowing even each other. Their good deeds + of charity were, in that way, done by pure stealth. And it happened that + their spiritual director was the Father Antonio himself. At that foot of + the palace steps, drawn back out of our way, stood the great glass coach + of state, containing, even then, the woman who was all the world to me, + invisible to me, unattainable to me, not to be comforted by me, even as + her great griefs were to me invisible and unassuageable. And there between + us, in the great coffin, held on high by the grim, shadowy beings, was all + that she loved, invisible, unattainable, too, and beyond all human + comfort. Standing there, in the midst of the whispering, bare-headed, + kneeling, and villainous crowd, I had a vivid vision of her pale, dim, + pitiful face. Ah, poor thing! she was going away for good from all that + state, from all that seclusion, from all that peace, mutely, and with a + noble pride of quietness, into a world of dangers, with no head but mine + to think for her, no arm but mine to ward off all the great terrors, the + immense and dangerous weight of a new world. + </p> + <p> + In the twinkle of innumerable candles, the priceless harness of the white + mules, waiting to draw the great coach after us, shone like streaks of ore + in an infinitely rich silver mine. A double line of tapers kept the road + to the cathedral, and a crowd of our negroes, the bell muzzles of their + guns suggested in the twinkling light, massed themselves round the coach. + Outside the lines were the crowd of rapscallions in red jackets, their + women and children—all the population of the Aldea Bajo, groaning. + The whole crowd got into motion round us, the white mules plunging + frantically, the coach swaying. Ahead of me inarched the sardonic, + gallantly grotesque figure of true Tomas, his sword point up, his motions + always jaunty. Ahead of him, again, were the white robes of many priests, + a cluster of tall candles, a great jewelled cross, and a tall saint’s + figure swaying, more than shoulder high, and disappearing up above into + the darkness. For me, under my cowl, it was suffocatingly hot; but I + seemed to move forward, following, swept along without any volition of my + own. It appeared an immensely long journey; and then, as we went at last + up the cathedral steps, a voice cried harshly, “Death to the heretic!” My + heart stood still. I clutched frantically at the handle of a pistol that I + could not disengage from folds of black cloth. But, as a matter of fact, + the cry was purely a general one; I was supposed to be shut up in the + palace still. + </p> + <p> + The sudden glow, the hush, the warm breath of incense, and the blaze of + light turned me suddenly faint; my ears buzzed, and I heard strange + sounds. + </p> + <p> + The cathedral was a mass of heads. Everyone in Rio Medio was present, or + came trooping in behind us. The better class was clustered near the blaze + of gilding, mottled marble, wax flowers, and black and purple drapery that + vaulted over the two black coffins in the choir. Down in the unlit body of + the church the riff-raff of O’Brien kept the doors. + </p> + <p> + I followed the silent figure of Tomas Castro to the bishop’s own stall, + right up in the choir, and we became hidden from the rest by the forest of + candles round the catafalque. Up the centre of the great church, and high + over the heads of the kneeling people, came the great coffin, swaying, its + bearers robbed of half their grimness by the blaze of lights. Tomas Castro + suddenly caught at my sleeve whilst they were letting the coffin down on + to the bier. He drew me unnoticed into the shadow behind the bishop’s + stall. In the swift transit, I had a momentary glance of a small, black + figure, infinitely tiny in that quiet place, and infinitely solitary, + veiled in black from head to foot, coming alone up the centre of the nave. + </p> + <p> + I stood hidden there beside the bishop’s stall for a long time, and then + suddenly I saw the black figure alone in the gallery, looking down upon me—from + the <i>loggia</i> of the Riegos. I felt suddenly an immense calm; she was + looking at me with unseeing eyes, but I knew and felt that she would + follow me now to the end of the world. I had no more any doubts as to the + issue of our enterprise; it was open to no unsuccess with a figure so + steadfast engaged in it; it was impossible that blind fate should be + insensible to her charm, impossible that any man could strike at or thwart + her. + </p> + <p> + Monks began to sing; a great brass instrument grunted lamentably; in the + body of the building there was silence. The bishop and his supporters + moved about, as if aimlessly, in front of the altar; the chains of the + gold censors clicked ceaselessly. Seraphina’s head had sunk forward out of + my sight. All the heads of the cathedral bowed down, and suddenly, from + round the side of the stall, a hand touched mine, and a voice said, “It is + time.” Very softly, as if it were part of the rite, I was drawn round the + stall through a door in the side of the screen. As we went out, in his + turnings, the old bishop gave us the benediction. Then the door closed on + the glory of his robes, and in a minute, in the darkness we were rustling + down a circular narrow staircase into the dimness of a crypt, lit by the + little blue flame of an oil lamp. From above came sounds like thunder, + immense, vibrating; we were immediately under the choir. Through the + cracks round a large stone showed a parallelogram of light. + </p> + <p> + In the dimness I had a glimpse of the face of my conductor—a thin, + wonderfully hollow-cheeked lay brother. He began, with great gentleness, + to assist me out of my black robes, and then he said: + </p> + <p> + “The senorita will be here very soon with the Señor Tomas,” and then + added, with an infinitely sad and tender, dim smile: + </p> + <p> + “Will not the Señor Caballero, if it is not repugnant, say a prayer for + the repose of...” He pointed gently upwards to the great flagstone above + which was the coffin of Don Balthasar and Carlos. The priest himself was + one of those very holy, very touching—-perhaps, very stupid—men + that one finds in such places. With his dim, wistful face he is very + present in my memory. He added: “And that the good God of us all may keep + it in the Señor Caballero’s heart to care well for the soul of the dear + senorita.” + </p> + <p> + “I am a very old man,” he whispered, after a pause. He was indeed an old + man, quite worn out, quite without hope on earth. “I have loved the + senorita since she was a child. The Señor Caballero takes her from us. I + would have him pray—to be made worthy.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst I was doing it, the place began to be alive with whispers of + garments, of hushed footsteps, a small exclamation in a gruff voice. Then + the stone above moved out of its place, and a blaze of light fell down + from the choir above. + </p> + <p> + I saw beside me Seraphina’s face, brilliantly lit, looking upwards. Tomas + Castro said: + </p> + <p> + “Come quickly... come quickly... the prayers are ending; there will be + people in the street.” And from above an enormous voice intoned: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Tu.. u.. ba mi.. i.. i..rum...</i>” And the serpent groaned + discordantly. The end of a great box covered with black velvet glided + forward above our heads; ropes were fastened round it. The priest had + opened a door in the shadowy distance, beside a white marble tablet in the + thick walls. The coffin up above moved forward a little again; the ropes + were readjusted with a rattling, wooden sound. A dry, formal voice intoned + from above: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Èrit... Justus Ab auditione...</i>” + </p> + <p> + From the open door the priest rattled his keys, and said, “Come, come,” + impatiently. + </p> + <p> + I was horribly afraid that Seraphina would shriek or faint, or refuse to + move. There was very little time. The pirates might stream out of the + front of the cathedral as we came from the back; the bishop had promised + to accentuate the length of the service. But Seraphina glided towards the + open door; a breath of fresh air reached us. She looked back once. The + coffin was swinging right over the hole, shutting out the light. Tomas + Castro took her hand and said, “Come... come,” with infinite tenderness. + </p> + <p> + He had been sobbing convulsedly. We went up some steps, and the door shut + behind us with a sound like a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + We walked fast, in perfect blackness and solitude, on the deserted beach + between the old town and the village. Every soul was near the cathedral. A + boat lay half afloat. To the left in the distance the light of the + schooner opposite the Casa Riego wavered on the still water. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Tomas Castro said: + </p> + <p> + “The senorita never before set foot to the open ground.” + </p> + <p> + At once I lifted her into the boat. “Shove off, Tomas,” I said, with a + beating heart. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2H_PART4"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + PART FOURTH — BLADE AND GUITAR + </h2> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER ONE + </h3> + <p> + There was a slight, almost imperceptible jar, a faint grating noise, a + whispering sound of sand—and the boat, without a splash, floated. + </p> + <p> + The earth, slipping as it were away from under the keel, left us borne + upon the waters of the bay, which were as still as the windless night + itself. The pushing off of that boat was like a launching into space, as a + bird opens its wings on the brow of a cliff, and remains poised in the + air. A sense of freedom came to me, the unreasonable feeling of exultation—as + if I had been really a bird essaying its flight for the first time. + Everything, sudden and evil and most fortunate, had been arranged for me, + as though I had been a lay figure on which Romance had been wreaking its + bewildering unexpectedness; but with the floating clear of the boat, I + felt somehow that this escape I had to manage myself. + </p> + <p> + It was dark. Dipping cautiously the blade of the oar, I gave another push + against the shelving shore. Seraphina sat, cloaked and motionless, and + Tomas Castro, in the bows, made no sound. I didn’t even hear him breathe. + Everything was left to me. The boat, impelled afresh, made a slight + ripple, and my elation was replaced in a moment by all the torments of the + most acute anxiety. + </p> + <p> + I gave another push, and then lost the bottom. Success depended upon my + resource, readiness, and courage. And what was this success? Immediately, + it meant getting out of the bay, and into the open sea in a twelve-foot + dinghy looted from some ship years ago by the Rio Medio pirates, if that + miserable population of sordid and ragged outcasts of the Antilles + deserved such a romantic name. They were sea-thieves. + </p> + <p> + Already the wooded shoulder of a mountain was thrown out intensely black + by the glow in the sky behind. The moon was about to rise. A great anguish + took my heart as if in a vice. The stillness of the dark shore struck me + as unnatural. I imagined the yell of the discovery breaking it, and the + fancy caused me a greater emotion than the thing itself, I flatter myself, + could possibly have done. The unusual silence in which, through the open + portals, the altar of the cathedral alone blazed with many flames upon the + bay, seemed to enter my very heart violently, like a sudden access of + anguish. The two in the boat with me were silent, too. I could not bear + it. + </p> + <p> + “Seraphina,” I murmured, and heard a stifled sob. + </p> + <p> + “It is time to take the oars, Señor,” whispered Castro suddenly, as though + he had fallen asleep as soon as he had scrambled into the bows, and only + had awaked that instant. “The mists in the middle of the bay will hide us + when the moon rises.” + </p> + <p> + It was time—if we were to escape. Escape where? Into the open sea? + With that silent, sorrowing girl by my side! In this miserable + cockleshell, and without any refuge open to us? It was not really a + hesitation; she could not be left at the mercy of O’Brien. It was as + though I had for the first time perceived how vast the world was; how + dangerous; how unsafe. And there was no alternative. There could be no + going back. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps, if I had known what was before us, my heart would have failed me + utterly out of sheer pity. Suddenly my eyes caught sight of the moon + making like the glow of a bush fire on the black slope of the mountain. In + a moment it would flood the bay with light, and the schooner anchored off + the beach before the Casa Riego was not eighty yards away. I dipped my oar + without a splash. Castro pulled with his one hand. + </p> + <p> + The mists rising on the lowlands never filled the bay, and I could see + them lying in moonlight across the outlet like a silvery white ghost of a + wall. We penetrated it, and instantly became lost to view from the shore. + </p> + <p> + Castro, pulling quickly, turned his head, and grunted at a red blur very + low in the mist. A fire was burning on the low point of land where Nichols—the + Nova Scotian—had planted the battery which had worked such havoc + with Admiral Rowley’s boats. It was a mere earthwork and some of the guns + had been removed. The fire, however, warned us that there were some people + on the point. We ceased rowing for a moment, and Castro explained to me + that a fire was always lit when any of these thieves’ boats were stirring. + There would be three or four men to keep it up. On this very night + Manuel-del-Popolo was outside with a good many rowboats, waiting on the <i>Indiaman</i>. + The ship had been seen nearing the shore since noon. She was becalmed now. + Perhaps they were looting her already. + </p> + <p> + This fact had so far favoured our escape. There had been no strollers on + the beach that night. Since the investment of the Casa Riego, Castro had + lived amongst the besiegers on his prestige of a superior person, of a <i>caballero</i> + skilled in war and diplomacy. No one knew how much the tubby, saturnine + little man was in the confidence of the Juez O’Brien; and there was no + doubt that he was a good Catholic. He was a very grave, a very silent <i>caballero</i>. + In reality his heart had been broken by the death of Carlos, and he did + not care what happened to him. His action was actuated by his scorn and + hate of the Rio Medio population, rather than by any friendly feeling + towards myself. + </p> + <p> + On that night Domingo’s partisans were watching the Casa Riego, while + Manuel (who was more of a seaman) had taken most of his personal friends, + and all the larger boats that would float, to do a bit of “outside work,” + as they called it, upon the becalmed West Indiaman. + </p> + <p> + This had facilitated Castro’s plan, and it also accounted for the + smallness of the boat, which was the only one of the refuse lot left on + the beach that did not gape at every seam. She was not tight by any means, + though. I could hear the water washing above the bottom-boards, and I + remember how concern about keeping Seraphina’s feet dry mingled with the + grave apprehensions of our enterprise. + </p> + <p> + We had been paddling an easy stroke. The red blurr of the fire on the + point was growing larger, while the diminished blaze of lights on the high + altar of the cathedral pierced the mist with an orange ray. + </p> + <p> + “The boat should be baled out,” I remarked in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + Castro laid his oar in and made his way to the thwart. It shows how well + we were prepared for our flight, that there was not even a half-cocoanut + shell in the boat. A gallon earthenware jar, stoppered with a bunch of + grass, contained all our provision of fresh water. Castro displaced it, + and, bending low, tried to bale with his big, soft hat. I should imagine + that he found it impracticable, because, suddenly, he tore off one of his + square-toed shoes with a steel buckle. He used it as a scoop, blaspheming + at the necessity, but in a very low mutter, out of respect for Seraphina. + </p> + <p> + Standing up in the stern-sheets by her side, I kept on sculling gently. + Once before I had gone desperately to sea—escaping the gallows, + perhaps—in a very small boat, with the drunken song of Rangsley’s + uncle heralding the fascination of the unknown to a very callow youth. + That night had been as dark, but the danger had been less great. The boat, + it is true, had actually sunk under us, but then it was only the sea that + might have swallowed me who knew nothing of life, and was as much a + stranger to fate as the animals on our farm. But now the world of men + stood ready to devour us, and the Gulf of Mexico was of no more account + than a puddle on a road infested by robbers. What were the dangers of the + sea to the passions amongst which I was launched—with my high + fortunes in my hand, and, like all those who live and love, with a sword + suspended above my head? + </p> + <p> + The danger had been less great on that old night, when I had heard behind + me the soft crash of the smugglers’ feet on the shingle. It had been less + great, and, if it had had a touch of the sordid, it had led me to this + second and more desperate escape—in a cockleshell, carrying off a + silent and cloaked figure, which quickened my heart-beats at each look. I + was carrying her off from the evil spells of the Casa Riego, as a knight a + princess from an enchanted castle. But she was more to me than any + princess to any knight. + </p> + <p> + There was never anything like that in the world. Lovers might have gone, + in their passion, to a certain death; but never, it seemed to me, in the + history of youth, had they gone in such an atmosphere of cautious + stillness upon such a reckless adventure. Everything depended upon + slipping out through the gullet of the bay without a sound. The men on the + point had no means of pursuit, but, if they heard or saw anything, they + could shout a warning to the boats outside. These were the real dangers—my + first concern. Afterwards... I did not want to think of afterwards. There + were only the open sea and the perilous coast. Perhaps, if I thought of + them, I should give up. + </p> + <p> + I thought only of gaining each successive moment and concentrated all my + faculties into an effort of stealthiness. I handled the boat with a + deliberation full of tense prudence, as if the oar had been a stalk of + straw, as if the water of the bay had been the film of a glass bubble an + unguarded movement could have shivered to atoms. I hardly breathed, for + the feeling that a deeper breath would have blown away the mist that was + our sole protection now. + </p> + <p> + It was not blown away. On the contrary, it clung closer to us, with the + enveloping chill of a cloud wreathing a mountain crag. The vague shadows + and dim outlines that had hung around us began, at last, to vanish utterly + in an impenetrable and luminous whiteness. And through the jumble of my + thoughts darted the sudden knowledge that there was a sea-fog outside—a + thing quite different from the nightly mists of the bay. It was rolling + into the passage inexplicably, for no stir of air reached us. It was + possible to watch its endless drift by the glow of the fire on the point, + now much nearer us. Its edges seemed to melt away in the flight of the + water-dust. It was a sea-fog coming in. Was it disastrous to us, or + favourable? It, at least, answered our immediate need for concealment, and + this was enough for me, when all our future hung upon every passing + minute. + </p> + <p> + The Rio picaroons, when engaged in thieving from some ship becalmed on the + coast, began by towing one of their schooners as far as the entrance. They + left her there as a rallying point for the boats, and to receive the + booty. + </p> + <p> + One of these schooners, as I knew, was moored opposite the Casa Riego. The + other might be lying at anchor somewhere right in the fairway ahead, + within a few yards. I strained my ears for some revealing sound from her, + if she were there—a cough, a voice, the creak of a block, or the + fall of something on her deck. Nothing came. I began to fear lest I should + run stem on into her side without a moment’s warning. I could see no + further than the length of our twelve-foot boat. + </p> + <p> + To make certain of avoiding that danger, I decided to shave close the spit + of sand that tipped the narrow strip of lowland to the south. I set my + teeth, and sheered in resolutely. + </p> + <p> + Castro remained on the after-thwart, with his elbows on his knees. His + head nearly touched my leg. I could distinguish the woeful, bent back, the + broken swaying of the plume in his hat. Seraphina’s perfect immobility + gave me the measure of her courage, and the silence was so profoundly + pellucid that the flutter of the flames that we were nearing began to come + loud out of the blur of the glow. Then I heard the very crackling of the + wood, like a fusillade from a great distance. Even then Castro did not + deign to turn his head. + </p> + <p> + Such as he was—a born vagabond, <i>contrabandista</i>, spy in armed + camps, sutler at the tail of the <i>Grande Armée</i> (escaped, God only + knows how, from the snows of Russia), beggar, <i>guerrillero</i>, bandit, + sceptically murderous, draping his rags in saturnine dignity—he had + ended by becoming the sinister and grotesque squire of our quixotic + Carlos. There was something romantically sombre in his devotion. He + disdained to turn round at the danger, because he had left his heart on + the coffin as a lesser affection would have laid a wreath. I looked down + at Seraphina. She too, had left a heart in the vaults of the cathedral. + The edge of the heavy cloak drawn over her head concealed her face from + me, and, with her face, her ignorance, her great doubts, her great fears. + </p> + <p> + I heard, above the crackling of dry wood, a husky exclamation of surprise, + and then a startled voice exclaiming: + </p> + <p> + “Look! <i>Santissima Madre!</i> What is this?” + </p> + <p> + Sheer instinct altered at once the motion of my hand so as to incline the + bows of the dinghy away from the shore; but a sort of stupefying amazement + seized upon my soul. We had been seen. It was all over. Was it possible? + All over, already? + </p> + <p> + In my anxiety to keep clear of the schooner which, for all I know to this + day, may not have been there at all, I had come too close to the sand, so + close that I heard soft, rapid footfalls stop short in the fog. A voice + seemed to be asking me in a whisper: + </p> + <p> + “Where, oh, where?” + </p> + <p> + Another cried out irresistibly, “I see it.” + </p> + <p> + It was a subdued cry, as if hushed in sudden awe. + </p> + <p> + My arm swung to and fro; the turn of my wrist went on imparting the + propelling motion of the oar. All the rest of my body was gripped + helplessly in the dead expectation of the end, as if in the benumbing + seconds of a fall from a towering height. And it was swift, too. I felt a + draught at the back of my neck—a breath of wind. And instantly, as + if a battering-ram had been let swing past me at many layers of stretched + gauze, I beheld, through a tattered deep hole in the fog, a roaring vision + of flames, borne down and springing up again; a dance of purple gleams on + the strip of unveiled water, and three coal-black figures in the light. + </p> + <p> + One of them stood high on lank black legs, with long black arms thrown up + stiffly above the black shape of a hat. The two others crouched low on the + very edge of the water, peering as if from an ambush. + </p> + <p> + The clearness of this vision was contained by a thick and fiery + atmosphere, into which a soft white rush and swirl of fog fell like a + sudden whirl of snow. It closed down and overwhelmed at once the tall + flutter of the flames, the black figures, the purple gleams playing round + my oar. The hot glare had struck my eyeballs once, and had melted away + again into the old, fiery stain on the mended fabric of the fog. But the + attitudes of the crouching men left no room for doubt that we had been + seen. I expected a sudden uplifting of voices on the shore, answered by + cries from the sea, and I screamed excitedly at Castro to lay hold of his + oar. + </p> + <p> + He did not stir, and after my shout, which must have fallen on the scared + ears with a weird and unearthly note, a profound silence attended us—the + silence of a superstitious fear. And, instead of howls, I heard, before + the boat had travelled its own short length, a voice that seemed to be the + voice of fear itself asking, “Did you hear that?” and a trembling mutter + of an invocation to all the saints. Then a strangled throat trying to + pronounce firmly, “The souls of the dead <i>Inglez</i>. Crying from pain.” + </p> + <p> + Admiral Rowley’s seamen, so miserably thrown away in the ill-conceived + attack on the bay, were making a ghostly escort for our escape. Those dead + boats’-crews were supposed to haunt the fatal spot, after the manner of + spectres that linger in remorse, regret, or revenge, about the gates of + departure. I had blundered; the fog, breaking apart, had betrayed us. But + my obscure and vanquished countrymen held possession of the outlet by the + memory of their courage. In this critical moment it was they, I may say, + who stood by us. + </p> + <p> + We, on our part, must have been disclosed, dark, indistinct, utterly + inexplicable; completely unexpected; an apparition of stealthy shades. The + painful voice in the fog said: + </p> + <p> + “Let them be. Answer not. They shall pass on, for none of them died on the + shore—all in the water. Yes, all in the water.” + </p> + <p> + I suppose the man was trying to reassure himself and his companions. His + meaning, no doubt, was that, being on shore, they were safe from the + ghosts of those <i>Inglez</i> who had never achieved a landing. From the + enlarging and sudden deepening of the glow, I knew that they were throwing + more brushwood on the fire. + </p> + <p> + I kept on sculling, and gradually the sharp fusillade of dry twigs grew + more distant, more muffled in the fog. At last it ceased altogether. Then + a weakness came over me, and, hauling my oar in, I sat down by + Sera-phina’s side. I longed for the sound of her voice, for some tender + word, for the caress of a murmur upon my perplexed soul. I was sure of + her, as of a conquered and rare treasure, whose possession simplifies life + into a sort of adoring guardianship—and I felt so much at her mercy + that an overwhelming sense of guilt made me afraid to speak to her. The + slight heave of the open sea swung the boat up and down. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Castro let out a sort of lugubrious chuckle, and, in low tones, I + began to upbraid him with his apathy. Even with his one arm he should have + obeyed my call to the oar. It was incomprehensible to me that we had not + been fired at. Castro enlightened me, in a few moody and scornful words. + The Rio Medio people, he commented upon the incident, were fools, of + bestial nature, afraid of they knew not what. + </p> + <p> + “Castro, the valour of these dead countrymen of mine was not wasted; they + have stood by us like true friends,” I whispered in the excitement of our + escape. + </p> + <p> + “These insensate English,” he grumbled.... + </p> + <p> + “A dead enemy would have served the turn better. If the <i>caballero</i> + had none other than dead friends....” + </p> + <p> + His harsh, bitter mumble stopped. Then Sera-phina’s voice said softly: + </p> + <p> + “It is you who are the friend, Tomas Castro. To you shall come a friend’s + reward.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, Señorita!” he sighed. “What remains for me in this world—for + me who have given for two masses for the souls of that illustrious man, + and of your cousin Don Carlos, my last piece of silver?” + </p> + <p> + “We shall make you very rich, Tomas Castro,” she said with decision, as if + there had been bags of gold in the boat. + </p> + <p> + He returned a high-flown phrase of thanks in a bitter, absent whisper. I + knew well enough that the help he had given me was not for money, not for + love—not even for loyalty to the Riegos. It was obedience to the + last recommendation of Carlos. He ran risks for my safety, but gave me + none of his allegiance. + </p> + <p> + He was still the same tubby, murderous little man, with a steel blade + screwed to the wooden stump of his forearm, as when, swelling his breast, + he had stepped on his toes before me like a bloodthirsty pigeon, in the + steerage of the ship that had brought us from home. I heard him mumble, + with almost incredible, sardonic contempt, that, indeed, the senor would + soon have none but dead friends if he refrained from striking at his + enemies. Had the senor taken the very excellent opportunity afforded by + Providence, and that any sane Christian man would have taken—to let + him stab the Juez O’Brien—we should not then be wandering in a + little boat. What folly! What folly! One little thrust of a knife, and we + should all have been now safe in our beds.... + </p> + <p> + His tone was one of weary superiority, and I remained appalled by that + truth, stripped of all chivalrous pretence. It was clear, in sparing that + defenceless life, I had been guilty of cruelty for the sake of my + conscience. There was Seraphina by my side; it was she who had to suffer. + I had let her enemy go free, because he had happened to be near me, + disarmed. Had I acted like an Englishman and a gentleman, or only like a + fool satisfying his sentiment at other people’s expense? Innocent people, + too, like the Riego servants, Castro himself; like Seraphina, on whom my + high-minded forbearance had brought all these dangers, these hardships, + and this uncertain fate. + </p> + <p> + She gave no sign of having heard Castro’s words. The silence of women is + very impenetrable, and it was as if my hold upon the world—since she + was the whole world for me—had been weakened by that shade of + decency of feeling which makes a distinction between killing and murder. + But suddenly I felt, without her cloaked figure having stirred, her small + hand slip into mine. Its soft warmth seemed to go straight to my heart + soothing, invigorating—as it she had slipped into my palm a weapon + of extraordinary and inspiring potency. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are generous,” I whispered close to the edge of the cloak + overshadowing her face. + </p> + <p> + “You must now think of yourself, Juan,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Of myself,” I echoed sadly. “I have only you to think of, and you are so + far away—out of my reach. There are your dead—all your loss, + between you and me.” + </p> + <p> + She touched my arm. + </p> + <p> + “It is I who must think of my dead,” she whispered. “But you, you must + think of yourself, because I have nothing of mine in this world now.” + </p> + <p> + Her words affected me like the whisper of remorse. It was true. There were + her wealth, her lands, her palaces; but her only refuge was that little + boat. Her father’s long aloofness from life had created such an isolation + round his closing years that his daughter had no one but me to turn to for + protection against the plots of her own Intendente. And, at the thought of + our desperate plight, of the suffering awaiting us in that small boat, + with the possibility of a lingering death for an end, I wavered for a + moment. Was it not my duty to return to the bay and give myself up? In + that case, as Castro expressed it, our throats would be cut for love of + the <i>Juez</i>. + </p> + <p> + But Seraphina, the rabble would carry to the Casa on the palms of their + hands—out of veneration for the family, and for fear of O’Brien. + </p> + <p> + “So, Señor,” he mumbled, “if to you to-morrow’s sun is as little as to me + let us pull the boat’s head, round.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us set our hands to the side and overturn it, rather,” Seraphina + said, with an indignation of high command. + </p> + <p> + I said no more. If I could have taken O’Brien with me into the other + world, I would have died to save her the pain of so much as a pinprick. + But because I could not, she must even go with me; must suffer because I + clung to her as men cling to their hope of highest good—with an + exalted and selfish devotion. + </p> + <p> + Castro had moved forward, as if to show his readiness to pull round. + Meantime I heard a click. A feeble gleam fell on his misty hands under the + black halo of the hat rim. Again the flint and blade clicked, and a large + red spark winked rapidly in the bows. He had lighted a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER TWO + </h3> + <p> + Silence, stillness, breathless caution were the absolute conditions of our + existence. But I hadn’t the heart to remonstrate with him for the danger + he caused Seraphina and myself. The fog was so thick now that I could not + make out his outline, but I could smell the tobacco very plainly. + </p> + <p> + The acrid odour of <i>picadura</i> seemed to knit the events of three + years into one uninterrupted adventure. I remembered the shingle beach; + the deck of the old <i>Thames</i>. It brought to my mind my first vision + of Seraphina, and the emblazoned magnificence of Carlos’ sick bed. It all + came and went in a whiff of smoke; for of all the power and charm that had + made Carlos so seductive there remained no such deep trace in the world as + in the heart of the little grizzled bandit who, like a philosopher, or a + desperado, puffed his cigarette in the face of the very spirit of murder + hovering round us, under the mask and cloak of the fog. And by the serene + heaven of my life’s evening, the spirit of murder became actually audible + to us in hasty and rhythmical knocks, accompanied by a cheerful tinkling. + </p> + <p> + These sounds, growing swiftly louder, at last induced Castro to throw away + his cigarette. Seraphina clutched my arm. The noise of oars rowing fast, + to the precipitated jingling of a guitar, swooped down upon us with a + gallant ferocity. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Caramba</i>,” Castro muttered; “it is the fool Manuel himself!” + </p> + <p> + I said, then: “We have eight shots between us two, Tomas.” + </p> + <p> + He thrust his brace of pistols upon my knees. + </p> + <p> + “Dispose of them as your worship pleases,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t <i>give</i> up, yet,” I whispered. + </p> + <p> + “What is it that I give up?” he mumbled wearily. “Besides, there grows + from my forearm a blade. If I shall find myself indisposed to quit this + world alone.... Listen to the singing of that imbecile.” + </p> + <p> + A carolling falsetto seemed to hang muffled in upper space, above the fog + that settled low on the water, like a dense and milky sediment of the air. + The moonlight fell into it strangely. We seemed to breathe at the bottom + of a shallow sea, white as snow, shining like silver, and impenetrably + opaque everywhere, except overhead, where the yellow disc of the moon + glittered through a thin cloud of steam. The gay truculence of the hollow + knocking, the metallic jingle, the shrill trolling, went on crescendo to a + burst of babbling voices, a mad speed of tinkling, a thundering shout, “<i>Altro, + Amigos!</i>” followed by a great clatter of oars flung in. The sudden + silence pulsated with the ponderous strokes of my heart. + </p> + <p> + To escape now seemed impossible. At least it seemed impossible while they + talked. A dark spot in the shining expanse of fog swam into view. It + shifted its place after I had first made it out, and then remained + motionless, astern of the dinghy. It was the shadow of a big boat full of + men, but when they were silent, I was not sure that I saw anything at all. + I made no doubt, had they been aware of our nearness, there were amongst + them eyes that could have detected us in the same elusive way. But how + could they even dream of anything of the kind? They talked noisily, and + there must have been a round dozen of them, at the least. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes they would fall a-shouting all together, and then keep quiet as + if listening. By-and-by I began to hear answering yells, that seemed to + converge upon us from all directions. + </p> + <p> + We were in the thick of it. It was Manuel’s boat, as Castro had guessed, + and the other boats were rallying upon it gropingly, keeping up a + succession of yells: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Ohe! Ohe!</i> Where, where?” + </p> + <p> + And the people in Manuel’s boat howled back at them, “<i>Ohe! Ohe...e!</i> + This way; here!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he struck the guitar a mighty blow, and chanted in an inspired + and grandiose strain: + </p> + <p> + “Steer—for—the—song.” + </p> + <p> + His fingers ran riot among the strings, and above the jingling his voice, + forced to the highest pitch, declaimed, as in the midst of a tempest: + </p> +<p class="poetry"> + “I adore the saints in the glory of heaven + And, on the dust of the earth, + The print of her footsteps.” + </p> + <p> + He was improvising. Sometimes he gasped; the rill of softened tinkle ran + on, and, glaring watchfully, I fancied I could detect his shape in the + white vapour, like a shadow thrown from afar by a tallow dip upon a snowy + sheet—the lank droop of his posturing, the greasy locks, the + attentive poise of his head, the sentimental rolling of his lustrous and + enormous eyes. + </p> + <p> + I had not forgotten his astonishing display in the cabin of the schooner + when, after the confiding of his woes and his ambitions, he had favoured + me with a sample of his art. As at that time, when he had been nursing his + truculent conceit, he sang, and the unsteady twanging of his guitar + lurched and staggered far behind his voice, like a drunken slave in the + footsteps of a raving master. Tinkle, tinkle, twang! A headlong rush of + muddled fingering; a sudden bang, like a heavy stumble. + </p> + <p> + “She is the proud daughter of the old Castile! <i>Olà! Olà!</i>” he + chanted mysteriously at the beginning of every stanza in a rapturous and + soft ecstasy, and then would shriek, as though he had been suddenly cast + up on the rock. The poet of Rio Medio was rallying his crew of thieves to + a rhapsody of secret and unrequited passion. <i>Twang, ping, tinkle tinkle</i>. + He was the <i>Capataz</i> of the valiant <i>Lugareños</i>! The true <i>Capataz!</i> + The only <i>Capataz. Olà! Olà! Twang, twang</i>. But he was the slave of + her charms, the captive of her eyes, of her lips, of her hair, of her + eyebrows, which, he proclaimed in a soaring shriek, were like rainbows + arched over stars. + </p> + <p> + It was a love-song, a mournful parody, the odious grimacing of an ape to + the true sorrow of the human face. I could have fled from it, as from an + intolerable humiliation. And it would have been easy to pull away unheard + while he sang, but I had a plan, the beginning of a plan, something like + the beginning of a hope. And for that I should have to use the fog for the + purpose of remaining within earshot. + </p> + <p> + Would the fog last long enough to serve my turn? That was the only + question, and I believed it would, for it settled lower; it settled down + denser, almost too heavy to be stirred by the fitful efforts of the + breeze. It was a true night fog of the tropics, that, born after sunset, + tries to creep back into the warm bosom of the sea before sunrise. Once in + Rio Medio, taking a walk in the early morning along the sand-dunes, I had + stood watching below me the heads of some people, fishing from a boat, + emerge strangely in the dawn out of such a fog. It concealed their very + shoulders more completely than water could have done. I trusted it would + not come so soon to our heads, emerging, though it seemed to me that + already, by merely clambering on Castro’s shoulders, I could attain to + clear moonlight; see the highlands of the coast, the masts of the English + ship. She could not be very far off if only one could tell the direction. + But an unsteady little dinghy was not the platform for acrobatic + exercises, and Castro not exactly the man. + </p> + <p> + The slightest noise would have betrayed us, and moreover, the thing was no + good, for even supposing I had got a hurried sight of the ship’s spars, I + should have to get down into the fog to pull, and there would be nothing + visible to keep us from going astray, unless at every dozen strokes I + clambered on Castro’s shoulders again to rectify the direction—an + obviously impracticable and absurd proceeding. + </p> + <p> + “She is the proud daughter of old Castile, <i>Olà, Olà</i>,” Manuel sang + confidentially with a subdued and gallant lilt... Obviously impracticable. + But I had another idea. + </p> +<p class="poetry"> + “<i>Tinkle tinkle pinnnng... Brrroum. Brrrroum</i>. + My soul yearns for the alms of a smile. + For a forgiving glance yearns my lofty soul...” + </p> + <p> + he sang. Ah, if one could have added another four feet to one’s stature. + Four or five feet only. There seemed to be nothing but a thin veil between + me and the moon. No more than a thin haze. But at the level of my eyes + everything was hidden. From behind the white veil came the crying of the + strings, a screeching, lugubrious and fierce in its artificial transport, + as if it were mocking my sad and ardent conviction of un-worthiness, the + crowning torment, and the inward pride of pure love. In the breathless + pauses I could hear the hollow bumping of gunwales knocking against each + other; faint splashings of oars; the distant hail of some laggards groping + their way on the shrouded sea. + </p> + <p> + The note of cruel passion that runs in the blood held these cut-throats + profoundly silent in their boats, as at home I could imagine a party of + smugglers (they would not stick at a murder or two, either) listening, + with pensive faces, to a sentimental ditty of some “sweet Nancy,” howled + dismally within the walls of a wayside taproom in the smoke of pipes. I + seemed to understand profoundly the difference of races that brings with + it the feeling of romance or awakens hate. My gorge rose at Manuel’s song. + I hated his lamentations. “Alas, alas; in vain, in vain.” He strummed with + vertiginous speed, with fury, and the distracted clamour of his voice, + wrestling madly with the ringing madness of the strings, ended in a + piercing and supreme shriek. + </p> + <p> + “Finished. It is finished.” A low and applauding murmur flowed to my ears, + the austere acclamations of connoisseurs. “Viva, viva, Manuele!”—a + squeak of fervid admiration. “Ah, our <i>Manuelito</i>.”... But a gruff + voice discoursed jovially, “Care not, Manuel. What of Paquita with the + broken tooth? Is she not left to thee? And <i>por Dios, hombres</i>, in + the dark all women are alike.” + </p> + <p> + “I will cram thy unclean mouth with live coals,” Manuel drawled + spitefully. + </p> + <p> + They roared with laughter at this sally. I depicted to myself their + shapes, their fierce gesticulations, their earrings, bound heads, rags, + and weapons, the vile scowls on their swarthy, grimacing faces. My anxiety + beheld them as plainly as anything seen with the eyes of the body. And, + with my sharpened hearing catching every word with preternatural + distinctness, I felt as if, the ring of Gyges on my finger, I had sat + invisible at the council of my enemies. + </p> + <p> + It was noisy, animated, with an issue of supreme interest for us. The + ship, seen at midday standing inshore with a light wind, had not + approached the bay near enough to be conveniently attacked till just after + dusk. They had waited for her all the afternoon, sleeping and gambling on + the spit of sand. But something heavy in her appearance had excited their + craven suspicions, and checked their ardour. She appeared to them + dangerous. What if she were an English man-of-war disguised? Some even + pretended to recognize in her positively one of the lighter frigates of + Rowley’s squadron. Night had fallen whilst they squabbled, and their + flotilla hung under the land, the men in a conflict of rapacity and fear, + arguing among themselves as to the ship’s character, but all unanimously + goading Manuel—since he <i>would</i> call himself their only <i>Capataz</i>—to + go boldly and find out. + </p> + <p> + It seems he had just been doing this with the help of a few choicer + spirits, and under cover of the fog. They had managed to steal near enough + to hear Englishmen conversing on board, orders given, and the yo-hoing of + invisible sailors, trimming the yards of the ship to the fitful airs. This + last, of course, was decisive. Such sounds are not heard on a man-of-war. + She was a merchant ship: she would be an easy prey. And Manuel, in a state + of exaltation at his venturesome bravery, had pulled back inshore, to + rally all the boats round his own, and lead them to certain plunder. They + would soon find out, he declaimed, what it was to have at their head their + own valiant Manuel, instead of that vagabond, that stranger, that + Andalusian starveling; that traitor, that infidel, that Castro. Hidden + away, he seemed to spout all this for our ears alone, as though he could + see us in our boat.... Patience; patience! Some day he would cut off that + interloper’s eyelids, and lay him on his back under a nice clear sun. + Castro made a brusque movement; a little shudder of disgust escaped + Seraphina.... Meantime, Manuel declared, by his audacity, that ship was as + good as theirs already. “<i>Viva el Capataz!</i>” they cheered. + </p> + <p> + The cloud-like vapours resting on the sea muffled the short roar; we heard + grim laughter, excited cries. He began to make a set speech, and his + voice, haranguing with vehement inflections in the shining whiteness of a + cloud, had an amazing and uncorporeal character; the quality of abstract + surprise; of phenomenal emotion shouted into empty space. And for me it + had, also, the fascination of a revealed depth. + </p> + <p> + It was like the oration of an ambitious leader in a farce; he held his + hearers with his eloquence, as much as he had done with the song of his + grotesque and desecrating love. He vaunted his sagacity and his valour, + and overwhelmed with invective all sorts of names—my own and + Castro’s among them. He revealed the unholy ideals of all that band of + scoundrels—ideals that he said should find fruition under his + captaincy. He boasted of secret conferences with O’Brien. There were + murmurs of satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + I don’t wonder at Seraphina’s shudder of horror, of disgust, of dismay, + and indignation. Robbed of the inexpugnable shelter of the Casa Riego, + she, too, was made to look into the depths; upon the animalism, the lusts, + and the reveries of that sordid, vermin-haunted crowd. I felt for her a + profound and shamed sorrow. It was like a profaning touch on the + sacredness of her mourning for the dead, and on her clear and passionate + vision of life. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Hombres de Rio Medio! Amigos! Valientes!...</i>” Manuel was beginning + his peroration. He would lead them, now, against the English ship. The + terrified heretics would surrender. There was always gold in English + ships. He stopped his speech, and then called loudly, “Let the boats keep + touch with each other, and not stray in that fog.” + </p> + <p> + “The dog,” grunted Castro. We heard a resolute bustle of preparation; oars + were being shipped. + </p> + <p> + “Make ready, Tomas,” I whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Ready for what?” he grumbled. “Where shall your worship run from these + swine?” + </p> + <p> + “We must follow them,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “The madness of the senor’s countrymen descends upon him,” he whispered + with sardonic politeness. “Wherefore follow?” + </p> + <p> + “To find the English ship,” I answered swiftly. + </p> + <p> + This, from the moment we had heard Manuel’s guitar, had been my idea. + Since the fog that concealed us from their sight made us, too, hopelessly + blind, those wretches must guide us themselves out of their own clutches, + as it were. I don’t put this forward as an inspired conception. It was a + most risky and almost hopeless expedient; but the position was so critical + that there was no other alternative to sitting still and waiting with + folded hands for discovery. Castro seemed more inclined for the latter. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately, the bandits wasted some time in blasphemous bickerings as to + the order of the boats in the procession of attack. I urged my views upon + Castro in hurried whispers. His assent was of importance, since he could + use an oar very well, and, if left to myself, I could not hope to scull + fast enough to keep within hearing of the flotilla. + </p> + <p> + “Of what use to us would be a ship in Manuel’s power?” he argued morosely. + On the other hand, if we waited near her till she had been plundered and + released, neither the fog nor the night would last forever. + </p> + <p> + “My countrymen will beat them off,” I affirmed confidently. “At any rate, + let us be on the spot. We may take a hand. And remember, Tomas, they are + not led by you, this time.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” he said, mollified. “But one thing more deserves the consideration + of your worship... If we follow this plan, we take the senorita among + flying bullets. And lead, alas! unlike steel, is blind, or that + illustrious man would not now be dead. If we wait here, the senorita, at + least, shall take no harm from these ruffians, as I have said.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you afraid of the bullets?” I asked Seraphina. + </p> + <p> + Before she had answered, Castro hissed at me: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you unspeakable English. Would you sacrifice the daughter, too, only + because she is brave?” + </p> + <p> + His sinister allusion made my blood boil with rage, and suddenly run cold + in my veins. Swathed in the brilliant cloud, we heard the sounds of + quarrelling and scrambling die away; cries of “Ready! ready!” an + unexpected and brutal laugh. Seraphina leaned forward. + </p> + <p> + “Tomas, I wish this thing. I command it,” she whispered imperiously. “We + shall help these English on the ship. We must; I command it. For these are + now my people.” + </p> + <p> + I heard him mutter to himself, “h, dear shade of my Carlos. Her people. + Where are now mine?” But he shipped his oar, and sat waiting. + </p> + <p> + In the moment before the picaroons actually started, I became the prey of + the most intense anxiety. I knew we were to seaward of the cluster. But of + our position relatively to the boats, and to the English ship they would + make for, I was profoundly ignorant. The dinghy might be lying right in + the way. Before I could master the sort of disorder I was thrown into by + that thought—which, strange to say, had not occurred to me till then—with + a shrill whistle Manuel led off. + </p> + <p> + We are always incited to trust, our eyes rather than our ears; and such is + the conventional temper in which we receive the impression of our senses + that I had no idea they were so near us. The destruction of my illusory + feeling of distance was the most startling thing in the world. Instantly, + it seemed, with the second swing and plash of the oars, the boats were + right upon us. They went clear. It was like being grazed by a fall of + rocks. I seemed to feel the wind of the rush. + </p> + <p> + The rapid clatter of rowing, the excited hum of voices, the violent + commotion of the water, passed by us with an impetuosity that took my + breath away. They had started in a bunch. There must have been amongst + them at least one crew of negroes, because somebody was beating a + tambourine smartly, and the rowers chorused in a quick, panting undertone, + “<i>Ho, ho, talibambo.... Ho, ho, talibambo</i>.” One of the boats + silhouetted herself for an instant, a row of heads swaying back and forth, + towered over astern by a full-length figure as straight as an arrow. A + retreating voice thundered, “Silence!” The sounds and the forms faded + together in the fog with amazing swiftness. + </p> + <p> + Seraphina, her cloak off, her head bare, stared forward after the fleeting + murmurs and shadows we were pursuing. Sometimes she warned us, “More to + the left”; or, “Faster!” We had to put forth our best, for Manuel, as if + in the very wantonness of confidence, had set a tremendous pace. + </p> + <p> + I suppose he took his first direction by the light on the point. I cannot + tell what guided him after that feeble sheen had become buried in the fog; + but there was no check in the speed, no sign of hesitation. We followed in + the track of the sound, and, for the most part, kept in sight of the + elusive shadow of the sternmost boat. Often, in a denser belt of fog, the + sounds of rowing became muffled almost to extinction; or we seemed to hear + them all round and, startled, checked our speed. Dark apparitions of boats + would surge up on all sides in a most inexplicable way; to the right; to + the left; even coming from behind. They appeared real, unmistakable, and, + before we had time to dodge them, vanished utterly. Then we had to spurt + desperately after the grind of the oars, caught, just in time, in an + unexpected direction. + </p> + <p> + And then we lost them. We pulled frantically. Seraphina had been urging + us, “Faster! faster!” From time to time I would ask her, “Can you see + them?” “Not yet,” she answered curtly. The perspiration poured down my + face. Castro’s panting was like the wheezing of bellows at my back. + Suddenly, in a despairing tone, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Stop! I can neither see nor hear anything now.” + </p> + <p> + We feathered our oars at once, and fell to listening with lowered heads. + The ripple of the boat’s way expired slowly. A great white stillness hung + slumbrously over the sea. + </p> + <p> + It was inconceivable. We pulled once or twice with extreme energy for a + few minutes after imaginary whistles or shouts. Once I heard them passing + our bows. But it was useless; we stopped, and the moon, from within the + mistiness of an immense halo, looked dreamily upon our heads. + </p> + <p> + Castro grunted, “Here is an end of your plan, Señor Don Juan.” + </p> + <p> + The peculiar and ghastly hopelessness of our position could not be better + illustrated than by this fresh difficulty. We had lost touch—with a + murderous gang that had every inducement not to spare our lives. And + positively it was a misfortune; an abandonment. I refused to admit to + myself its finality, as if it had reflected upon the devotion of tried + friends. I repeated to Castro that we should become aware of them directly—probably + even nearer than we wished. And, at any rate, we were certain of a mighty + loud noise when the attack on the ship began. She, at least, could not be + very far now. “Unless, indeed,” I admitted with exasperation, “we are to + suppose that your imbecile <i>Lugareños</i> have missed their prey and got + themselves as utterly lost as we ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + I was irritated—by his nodding plume; by his cold, perfunctory, as + if sleepy mutters, “Possibly, possibly, <i>puede ser</i>.” He retorted: + “Your English generosity could wish your countrymen no better luck than + that my <i>Lugareños</i>, as your worship pleases to call them, should + miss their way. They are hungry for loot—with much fasting. And it + is hunger that makes your wolf fly straight at the throat.” + </p> + <p> + All the time Seraphina breathed no word. But when I raised my voice, she + put out a hushing hand to my arm. And, from her intent pose, from the turn + of her shadowy head, I knew that she was peering and listening loyally. + </p> + <p> + Minutes passed—very few, I dare say—and brought no sound. The + restlessness of waiting made us dip our oars in a haphazard stroke, + without aim, without the means of judging whether we pulled to seaward, + inshore, north, or south, or only in a circle. Once we went excitedly in + chase of some splashing that must have been a leaping fish. I was hanging + my head over my idle oar when Seraphina touched me. + </p> + <p> + “I see!” she said, pointing over the bows. + </p> + <p> + Both Castro and I, peering horizontally over the water, did not see + anything. Not a shadow. Moreover, if they were so near, we ought to have + heard something. + </p> + <p> + “I believe it is land!” she murmured. “You are looking too low, Juan.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as I looked up I saw it, too, dark and beetling, like the overhang + of a low cliff. Where on earth had we blundered to? For a moment I was + confounded. Fiery reflections from a light played faintly above that + shape. Then I recognized what I was looking at. We had found the ship. + </p> + <p> + The fog was so shallow that up there the upper bulk of a heavy, square + stern, the very rails and stanchions crowning it like a balustrade, jutted + out in the misty sheen like the balcony of an invisible edifice, for the + lines of her run, the sides of her hull, were plunged in the dense white + layer below. And, throwing back my head, I traced even her becalmed sails, + pearly gray pinnacles of shadow uprising, tall and motionless, towards the + moon. + </p> + <p> + A redness wavered over her, as from a blaze on her deck. Could she be on + fire? And she was silent as a tomb. Could she be abandoned? I had promised + myself to dash alongside, but there was a weirdness in that fragment of a + dumb ship hanging out of a fog. We pulled only a stroke or two nearer to + the stern, and stopped. I remembered Castro’s warning—the blindness + of flying lead; but it was the profound stillness that checked me. It + seemed to portend something inconceivable. I hailed, tentatively, as if I + had not expected to be answered, “Ship, ahoy!” + </p> + <p> + Neither was I answered by the instantaneous, “Hallo,” of usual + watchfulness, though she was not abandoned. Indeed, my hail made a good + many men jump, to judge by the sounds and the words that came to me from + above. “What? What? A hail?” “Boat near?” “In English, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Dive for the captain, one of you,” an authoritative voice directed. “He’s + just run below for a minute. Don’t frighten the missus. Call him out + quietly.” + </p> + <p> + Talking, in confidential undertones, followed. + </p> + <p> + “See him?” “Can’t, sir.” “What’s the dodge, I wonder.” “Astern, I think, + sir.” “D———n this fog, it lies as thick as pea-soup on + the water.” + </p> + <p> + I waited, and after a perplexed sort of pause, heard a stern “Keep off.” + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER THREE + </h3> + <p> + They did not suspect how close I was to them. And their temper struck me + at once as unsafe. They seemed very much on the alert, and, as I imagined, + disposed to precipitate action. I called out, deadening my voice warily: + </p> + <p> + “I am an Englishman, escaping from the pirates here. We want your help.” + </p> + <p> + To this no answer was made, but by that time the captain had come on deck. + The dinghy must have drifted in a little closer, for I made out behind the + shadowy rail one, two, three figures in a row, looming bulkily above my + head, as men appear enlarged in mist. + </p> + <p> + “‘Englishman,’ he says.” “That’s very likely,” pronounced a new voice. + They held a hurried consultation up there, of which I caught only detached + sentences, and the general tone of concern. “It’s perfectly well known + that there <i>is</i> an Englishman here.... Aye, a runaway second mate.... + Killed a man in a Bristol ship.... What was his name, now?” + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you answer me?” I called out. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, we will answer you as soon as we see you.... Keep your eyes skinned + fore and aft on deck there.... Ready, boys?” + </p> + <p> + “All ready, sir”; voices came from further off. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me,” I entreated. + </p> + <p> + Someone called out briskly, “This is a bad place for pretty tales of + Englishmen in distress. We know very well where we are.” + </p> + <p> + “You are off Rio Medio,” I began anxiously; “and I———-” + </p> + <p> + “Speaks the truth like a Briton, anyhow,” commented a lazy drawl. + </p> + <p> + “I would send another man to the pump,” a reflective voice suggested. “To + make sure of the force, Mr. Sebright, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir.... Another hand to the brakes, bo’sun.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been held captive on shore,” I said. “I escaped this evening, + three hours ago.” + </p> + <p> + “And found this ship in the fog? You made a good shot at it, didn’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s no time for trifling, I swear to you,” I continued. “They are out + looking for you, in force. I’ve heard them. I was with them when they + started.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “They seem to have missed the ship.” + </p> + <p> + “So you came to have a friendly chat meantime. That’s kind. Beastly + weather, aint it?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to come aboard,” I shouted. “You must be crazy not to believe me.” + </p> + <p> + “But we do believe every single word you say,” bantered the Sebright voice + with serenity. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly another struck in, “Nichols, I call to mind, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, of course. This is the man.” + </p> + <p> + “My name’s not Nichols,” I protested. + </p> + <p> + “Now, now. You mustn’t begin to lie,” remonstrated Sebright. Somebody + laughed discreetly. + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, on my honour,” I said. “Nichols left Rio Medio some + time ago.” + </p> + <p> + “About three hours, eh?” came the drawl of insufferable folly in these + precious minutes. + </p> + <p> + It was clear that Manuel had gone astray, but I feared not for long. They + would spread out in search. And now I had found this hopeless ship, it + seemed impossible that anybody else could miss her. + </p> + <p> + “You may be boarded any moment by more than a dozen boats. I warn you + solemnly. Will you let me come?” + </p> + <p> + A low whistle was heard on board. They were impressed, “Why should he tell + us this?” an undertone inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Why the devil shouldn’t he? It’s no great news, is it? Some scoundrelly + trick. This man’s up to any dodge. Why, the ‘<i>Jane</i>’ was taken in + broad day by two boats that pretended they were going to sell vegetables.” + </p> + <p> + “Look out, or by heavens you’ll be taken by surprise. There’s a lot of + them,” I said as impressively as I could. + </p> + <p> + “Look out, look out. There’s a lot of them,” someone yelled in a sort of + panic. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s your game,” Sebright’s voice said to me. “Frighten us, eh? + Never you mind what this skunk says, men. Stand fast. We shall take a lot + of killing.” He was answered by a sort of pugnacious uproar, a clash of + cutlasses and laughter, as if at some joke. + </p> + <p> + “That’s right, boys; mind and send them away with clean faces, you + gunners. Jack, you keep a good lookout for that poor distressed + Englishman. What’s that? a noise in the fog? Stand by. Now then, cook!...” + </p> + <p> + “All ready to dish up, sir,” a voice answered him. + </p> + <p> + It was like a sort of madness. Were they thinking of eating? Even at that + the English talk made my heart expand—the homeliness of it. I seemed + to know all their voices, as if I had talked to each man before. It + brought back memories, like the voices of friends. + </p> + <p> + But there was the strange irrelevancy, levity, the enmity—the + irrational, baffling nature of the anguishing conversation, as if with the + unapproachable men we meet in nightmares. + </p> + <p> + We in the dinghy, as well as those on board, were listening anxiously. A + profound silence reigned for a time. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care for myself,” I tried once more, speaking distinctly. “But a + lady in the boat here is in great danger, too. Won’t you do something for + a woman?” + </p> + <p> + I perceived, from the sort of stir on board, that this caused some + sensation. + </p> + <p> + “Or is the whole ship’s company afraid to let one little boat come + alongside?” I added, after waiting for an answer. + </p> + <p> + A throat was cleared on board mildly, “Hem... you see, we don’t know who + you are.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve told you who I am. The lady is Spanish.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so. But there are Englishmen and Englishmen in these days. Some of + them keep very bad company ashore, and others afloat. I couldn’t think of + taking you on board, unless I know something more of you.” + </p> + <p> + I seemed to detect an intention of malice in the mild voice. The more so + that I overheard a rapid interchange of mutterings up there. “See him + yet?” “Not a thing, sir.” “Wait, I say.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing could overcome the fixed idea of these men, who seemed to enjoy so + much the cleverness of their suspicions. It was the most dangerous of + tempers to deal with. It made them as untrustworthy as so many lunatics. + They were capable of anything, of decoying us alongside, and stoving the + bottom out of the boat, and drowning us before they discovered their + mistake, if they ever did. Even as it was, there was danger; and yet I was + extremely loath to give her up. It was impossible to give her up. But what + were we to do? What to say? How to act? + </p> + <p> + “Castro, this is horrible,” I said blankly. That he was beginning to + chafe, to fret, and shuffle his feet only added to my dismay. He might + begin at any moment to swear in Spanish, and that was sure to bring a + shower of lead, blind, fired blindly. “We have nothing to expect from the + people of that ship. We cannot even get on board.” + </p> + <p> + “Not without Manuel’s help, it seems,” he said bitterly. “Strange, is it + not, Señor? Your countrymen—your excellent and virtuous countrymen. + Generous and courageous and perspicacious.” + </p> + <p> + Seraphina said suddenly, “They have reason. It is well for them to be + suspicious of us in this place.” She had a tone of calm reproof, and of + faith. + </p> + <p> + “They shall be of more use when they are dead,” Castro muttered. “The + senor’s other dead countrymen served us well.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall give you great, very great sums of money,” Seraphina suddenly + cried towards the ship. “I am the Señorita Seraphina Riego.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a woman—that’s a woman’s voice, I’ll swear,” I heard them + exclaim on board, and I cried again: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. There is a woman.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say. But where do you come in? You are a distressed Englishman, + aren’t you?” a voice came back. + </p> + <p> + “You shall let us come up on your ship,” Seraphina said. “I shall come + myself, alone—Seraphina Riego.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh, what?” the voice asked. + </p> + <p> + I felt a little wind on the back of my head. There was desperate hurry. + </p> + <p> + “We are escaping to get married,” I called out. They were beginning to + shout orders on the ship. “Oh, you’ve come to the wrong shop. A church is + what you want for <i>that</i> trouble,” the voice called back brutally, + through the other cries of orders to square the yards. + </p> + <p> + I shouted again, but my voice must have been drowned in the creaking of + blocks and yards. They were alert enough for every chance of getting away—for + every flaw of wind. Already the ship was less distinct, as if my eyes had + grown dim. By the time a voice on board her cried, “Belay,” faintly, she + had gone from my sight. Then the puff of wind passed away, too, and left + us more alone than ever, with only the small disk of the moon poised + vertically above the mists. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said Tomas Castro, after what seemed an eternity of crestfallen + silence. + </p> + <p> + He need not have spoken; there could be no doubt that Manuel had lost + himself, and my belief is that the ship had sailed right into the midst of + the flotilla. There was an unmistakable character of surprise in the + distant tumult that arose suddenly, and as suddenly ceased for a space of + a breath or two. “Now, Castro,” I shouted. “Ha! <i>bueno!</i>” + </p> + <p> + We gave way with a vigour that seemed to lift the dinghy out of the water. + The uproar gathered volume and fierceness. + </p> + <p> + From the first it was a hand-to-hand contest, engaged in suddenly, as if + the assailants had at once managed to board in a body, and, as it were, in + one unanimous spring. No shots had been fired. Too far to hear the blows, + and seeing nothing as yet of the ship, we seemed to be hastening towards a + deadly struggle of voices, of shadows with leathern throats; every cry + heard in battle was there—rage, encouragement, fury, hate, and pain. + And those of pain were amazingly distinct. They were yells; they were + howls. And suddenly, as we approached the ship, but before we could make + out any sign of her, we came upon a boat. We had to swerve to clear her. + She seemed to have dropped out of the fight in utter disarray; she lay + with no oars out, and full of men who writhed and tumbled over each other, + shrieking as if they had been flayed. Above the writhing figures in the + middle of the boat, a tall man, upright in the stern-sheets, raved awful + imprecations and shook his fists above his head. + </p> + <p> + The blunt dinghy foamed past that vision within an oar’s length, no more, + making straight for the clamour of the fight. The last puff of wind must + have thinned the fog in the ship’s track; for, standing up, face forward + to pull stroke, I saw her come out, stern-on to us, from truck to + water-line, mistily tall and motionless, but resounding with the most + fierce and desperate noises. A cluster of empty boats clung low to her + port side, raft-like and vague on the water. + </p> + <p> + We heard now, mingled with the fury and hate of shouts reverberating from + the placid sails, mighty thuds and crashes, as though it had been a combat + with clubs and battle-axes. + </p> + <p> + Evidently, in the surprise and haste of the unexpected coming together, + they had been obliged to board all on the same side. As I headed for the + other a big boat, full of men, with many oars, shot across our bows, and + vanished round the ship’s counter in the twinkling of an eye. The + defenders, engaged on the port side, were going to be taken in the rear. + We were then so close to the counter that the cries of “Death, death,” + rang over our heads. A voice on the poop said furiously in English, “Stand + fast, men.” Next moment, we, too, rounded the quarter only twenty feet + behind the big boat, but with a slightly wider sweep. + </p> + <p> + I said, “Have the pistols ready, Seraphina.” And she answered quite + steadily: + </p> + <p> + “They are ready, Juan.” + </p> + <p> + I could not have believed that any handiwork of man afloat could have got + so much way through the water. To this very day I am not rid of the absurd + impression that, at that particular moment, the dinghy was travelling with + us as fast as a cannon-ball. No sooner round than we were upon them. We + were upon them so fast that I had barely the time to fling away my oar, + and close my grip on the butt of the pistols Seraphina pressed into my + hand from behind. Castro, too, had dropped his oar, and, turning as swift + as a cat, crouched in the bows. I saw his good arm darting out towards + their boat. + </p> + <p> + They had cast a grapnel cleverly, and, swung abreast of the main chains, + were grimly busied in boarding the undefended side in silence. One had + already his leg over the ship’s rail, and below him three more were + clambering resolutely, one above the other. The rest of them, standing up + in a body with their faces to the ship, were so oblivious of everything in + their purpose, that they staggered all together to the shock of the + dinghy, heavily, as if the earth had reeled under them. + </p> + <p> + Castro knew what he was doing. I saw his only hand hop along the gunwale, + dragging our cockle-shell forward very swiftly. The tottering Spaniards + turned their heads, and for a moment we looked at each other in silence. + </p> + <p> + I was too excited to shout; the surprise seemed to have deprived them of + their senses, and they all had the same grin of teeth closed upon the + naked blades of their knives, the same stupid stare fastened upon my eyes. + I pulled the trigger in the nearest face, and the terrific din of the + fight going on above us was overpowered by the report of the pistol, as if + by a clap of thunder. The man’s gaping mouth dropped the knife, and he + stood stiffly long enough for the thought, “I’ve missed him,” to flash + through my mind before he tumbled clean out of the boat without touching + anything, like a wooden dummy tipped by the heels. His headlong fall sent + the water flying high over the stern of the dinghy. With the second barrel + I took a long shot at the man sitting amazed, astride of the rail above. I + saw him double up suddenly, and fall inboard sideways, but the fellow + following him made a convulsive effort, and leapt out of sight on to the + deck of the ship. I dropped the discharged weapon, and fired the first + barrel of the other at the upper of the two men clinging halfway up the + ship’s side. To that one shot they both vanished as if by enchantment, the + fellow I had hit knocking off his friend below. The crash of their fall + was followed by a great yell. + </p> + <p> + These had been all nearly point-blank shots, and, anyhow, I had had a good + deal of pistol practice. Macdonald had a little gallery at Horton Pen. The + <i>Lugareños</i>, huddled together in the boat, were only able to moan + with terror. They made soft, pitiful, complaining noises. Two or three + took headers overboard, like so many frogs, and then one began to squeak + exactly like a rat. + </p> + <p> + By that time, Castro, with his fixed blade, had cut their grapnel rope + close to the ring. As the ship kept forging ahead all the time, the boat + of the pirate bumped away lightly from between the vessel and our dinghy, + and we remained alongside, holding to the end of the severed line. I sent + my fourth shot after them and got in exchange a scream and a howl of + “Mercy! mercy! we surrender!” She swung clear of the quarter, all hushed, + and faded into the mist and moonlight, with the head and arms of a + motionless man hanging grotesquely over the bows. + </p> + <p> + Leaving Seraphina with Castro, and sticking the remaining pair of pistols + in my belt, I swarmed up the rope. The moon, the lights of several + lanthorns, the glare from the open doors, mingled violently in the steamy + fog between the high bulwarks of the ship. But the character of the + contest was changing, even as I paused on the rail to get my bearings. The + fellow who had leapt on board to escape my shot had bolted across the deck + to his friends on the other side, yelling: + </p> + <p> + “Fly, fly! The heretics are coming, shooting from the sea. All is lost. + Fly, oh fly!” + </p> + <p> + He had jumped straight overboard, but the infection of his panic was + already visible. The cries of “<i>Muerte, muerte!</i> Death, death!” had + ceased, and the Englishmen were cheering ferociously. In a moment, under + my eyes, the seamen, who had been holding their own with difficulty in a + shower of defensive blows, began to dart forward, striking out with their + fists, catching with their hands. I jumped upon the main hatch, and found + myself in the skirt ef the final rush. + </p> + <p> + A tall <i>Lugareño</i> had possessed himself of one of the ship’s capstan + bars, and, less craven than the others, was flourishing it on high, aiming + at the head of a sailor engaged in throttling a negro whom he held at the + full length of his immense arms. I fired, and the <i>Lugareño</i> tumbled + down with all the appearance of having knocked himself over with the bar + he had that moment uplifted. It rested across his neck as he lay stretched + at my feet. + </p> + <p> + I was not able to effect anything more after this, because the sailor, + after rushing his limp antagonist overboard with terrific force, turned + raging for more, caught sight of me—an evident stranger—and + flew at my throat. He was English, but as he squeezed my windpipe so hard + that I couldn’t utter a word I brought the butt of my pistol upon his + thick skull without the slightest compunction, for, indeed, I had to deal + with a powerful man, well able to strangle me with his bare hands, and + very determined to achieve the feat. He grunted under the blow, reeled + away a few steps, then, charging back at once, gripped me round the body, + and tried to lift me off my feet. We fell together into a warm puddle. + </p> + <p> + I had no idea spilt blood kept its warmth so much. And the quantity of it + was appalling; the deck seemed to swim with gore, and we simply weltered + in it. We rolled rapidly along the reeking scuppers, amongst the feet of a + lot of men who were hopping about us in the greatest excitement, the + hearty thuds of blows, aimed with all sorts of weapons, just missing my + head. The pistol was kicked out of my hand. + </p> + <p> + The horror of my position was very great. Must I kill the man? must I die + myself in this miserable and senseless manner? I tried to shout, “Drag + this maniac off me.” + </p> + <p> + He was pinning my arms to my body. I saw the furious faces bending over + me, the many hands murderously uplifted. They, of course, couldn’t tell + that I wasn’t one of the men who had boarded them, and my life had never + been in such jeopardy. I felt all the fury of rage and mortification. Was + I to die like this, villainously trodden underfoot, on the threshold of + safety, of liberty, of love? And, in those moments of violent struggle I + saw, as one sees in moments of wisdom and meditation, my soul—all + life, lying under the shadow of a perfidious destiny. And Seraphina was + there in the boat, waiting for me. The sea! The boat! They were in another + land, and I, I should no more.... never any more.... A sharp voice called, + “Back there, men. Steady. Take him alive.” They dragged me up. + </p> + <p> + I needn’t relate by what steps, from being terribly handled as a captive, + I was promoted to having my arms shaken off in the character of a saviour. + But I got any amount of praise at last, though I was terribly out of + breath—at the very last gasp, as you might say. A man, smooth-faced, + well-knit, very elated and buoyant, began talking to me endlessly. He was + mighty happy, and anyhow he could talk to me, because I was past doing + anything but taking a moment’s rest. He said I had come in the nick of + time, and was quite the best of fellows. + </p> + <p> + “If you had a fancy to be called the Archbishop of Canterbury, we’d ‘your + Grace’ you. I am the mate, Sebright. The captain’s gone in to show himself + to the missus; she wouldn’t like to have him too much chipped.... + Wonderful is the love of woman. She sat up a bit later to-night with her + fancy-sewing to see what might turn up. I told her at tea-time she had + better go in early and shut her stateroom door, because if any of the + Dagos chanced to come aboard, I couldn’t be responsible for the language + of my crowd. We are supposed to keep clear of profanity this trip, she + being a niece of Mr. Perkins of Bristol, our owner, and a Methodist. But, + hang it all, there’s reason in all things. You can’t have a ship like a + chapel—though <i>she</i> would. Oh, bless you, she would, even when + we’re beating off these picaroons.” + </p> + <p> + I was sitting on the afterhatch, and leaning my head on my arms. + </p> + <p> + “Feel bad? Do you? Handled you like a bag of shavings. Well, the boys got + their monkey up, hammering the Dagos. Here you, Mike, go look along the + deck, for a double-barrelled pistol. Move yourself a bit. Feel along under + the spars.” + </p> + <p> + There was something authoritative and knowing in his personality; boyishly + elated and full of business. + </p> + <p> + “We must put the ship to rights. You don’t think they’d come back for + another taste? The blessed old deck’s afloat. That’s my little dodge, + boiling water for these Dagos, if they come. So I got the cook to fire up, + and we put the suction-hose of the fire pump into the boiler, and we + filled the coppers and the kettles. Not a bad notion, eh? But ten times as + much wouldn’t have been enough, and the hose burst at the third stroke, so + that only one boat got anything to speak of. But Lord, <i>she</i> dropped + out of the ruck as if she’d been swept with langridge. Squealed like a + litter of pigs, didn’t they?” + </p> + <p> + What I had taken for blood had been the water from the burst hose. I must + say I was relieved. My new friend babbled any amount of joyous information + into me before I quite got my wind back. He rubbed his hands and clapped + me on the shoulder. But his heart was kind, and he became concerned at my + collapsed state. + </p> + <p> + “I say, you don’t think my chaps broke some of your ribs, do you? Let me + feel.” + </p> + <p> + And then I managed to tell him something of Seraphina that he would listen + to. + </p> + <p> + “What, what?” he said. “Oh, heavens and earth! there’s your girl. Of + course.... Hey, bo’sun, rig a whip and chair on the yardarm to take a lady + on board. Bear a hand. A lady! yes, a lady. Confound it, don’t lose your + wits, man. Look over the starboard rail, and you will see a lady alongside + with a Dago in a small boat. Let the Dago come on board, too; the + gentleman here says he’s a good sort. Now, do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + He talked to me a good deal more; told me that they had made a prisoner—“a + tall, comical chap; wears his hair like an old aunt of mine, a bunch of + curls flapping on each side of his face”—and then said that he must + go and report to Captain Williams, who had gone into his wife’s stateroom. + The name struck me. I said: + </p> + <p> + “Is this ship the <i>Lion?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye. That’s her. She is,” several seamen answered together, casting + curious glances from their work. + </p> + <p> + “Tell your captain my name is Kemp,” I shouted after Sebright with what + strength of lung I had. + </p> + <p> + What luck! Williams was the jolly little ship’s captain I was to have + dined with on the day of execution on Kingston Point—the day I had + been kidnapped. It seemed ages ago. I wanted to get to the side to look + after Seraphina, but I simply couldn’t remember how to stand. I sat on the + hatch, looking at the seamen. + </p> + <p> + They were clearing the ropes, collecting the lamps, picking up knives, + handspikes, crowbars, swabbing the decks with squashy flaps. A + bare-footed, bare-armed fellow, holding a bundle of brass-hilted cutlasses + under his arm, had lost himself in the contemplation of my person. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you bound to?” I inquired at large, and everybody showed a + friendly alacrity in answer. + </p> + <p> + “Havana.” “Havana, sir.” “Havana’s our next port. Aye, Havana.” + </p> + <p> + The deck rang with modulations of the name. + </p> + <p> + I heard a loud, “Alas,” sighed out behind me. A distracted, stricken voice + repeated twice in Spanish, “Oh, my greatness; oh, my greatness.” Then, + shiveringly, in a tone of profound self-communion, “I have a greatly + parched throat,” it said. Harshly jovial voices answered: + </p> + <p> + “Stow your lingo and come before the captain. Step along.” + </p> + <p> + A prisoner, conducted aft, stalked reluctantly into the light between two + short, bustling sailors. Dishevelled black hair like a damaged peruke, + mournful, yellow face, enormous stag’s eyes straining down on me. I + recognized Manuel-del-Popolo. At the same moment he sprang back, + shrieking, “This is a miracle of the devil—of the devil.” + </p> + <p> + The sailors fell to tugging at his arms savagely, asking, “What’s come to + you?” and, after a short struggle that shook his tatters and his raven + locks tempestuously like a gust of wind, he submitted to be walked up + repeating: + </p> + <p> + “Is it you, Señor? Is it you? Is it <i>you?</i>” + </p> + <p> + One of his shoulders was bare from neck to elbow; at every step one of his + knees and part of a lean thigh protruded their nakedness through a large + rent; a strip of grimy, blood-stained linen, torn right down to the waist, + dangled solemnly in front of his legs. There was a horrible raw patch + amongst the roots of his hair just above his temple; there was blood in + his nostrils, the stamp of excessive anguish on his features, a sort of + guarded despair in his eye. His voice sank while he said again, twice: + </p> + <p> + “Is it you? Is it you?” And then, for the last time, “Is it you?” he + repeated in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + The seamen formed a wide ring, and, looking at me, he talked to himself + confidentially. + </p> + <p> + “Escaped—the <i>Inglez!</i> Then thou art doomed, Domingo. Domingo, + thou art doomed. Dom... Señor!” + </p> + <p> + The change of tone, his effort to extend his hands towards me, surprised + us all. I looked away. + </p> + <p> + “Hold hard! Hold him, mate!” + </p> + <p> + “Señor, condescend to behold my downfall. I am led here to the slaughter, + Señor! To the slaughter, Señor! Pity! Grace! Mercy! And only a short while + ago—behold. Slaughter... I... Manuel. Señor, I am universally + admired—with a parched throat, Señor. I could compose a song that + would make a priest weep.... A greatly parched throat, Señor,” he added + piteously. + </p> + <p> + I could not help turning my head. I had not been used half as hard as he. + It was enough to look at him to believe in the dryness of his throat. + Under the matted mass of his hair, he was grinning in amiable agony, and + his globular eyes yearned upon me with a motionless and glassy lustre. + </p> + <p> + “You have not forgotten me, Señor? Forget Manuel! Impossible! Manuel, + Señor. For the love of God. Manuel. Manuel-del-Popolo. I did sing, deign + to remember. I offered you my fidelity, Señor. As you are a <i>caballero</i>, + I charge you to remember. Save me, Señor. Speak to those men.... For the + sake of your honour, Señor.” + </p> + <p> + His voice was extraordinarily harsh—not his own. Apparently, he + believed that he was going to be cut to pieces there and then by the + sailors. He seemed to read it in their faces, shuddering and shrinking + whenever he raised his eyes. But all these faces gaped with good-natured + wonder, except the faces of his two guardians, and these expressed a state + of conscientious worry. They were ridiculously anxious to suppress his + sudden contortions, as one would some gross indecency. In the scuffle they + hissed and swore under their breath. They were scandalized and made + unhappy by his behaviour. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready down there?” roared the bo’sun in the waist. + </p> + <p> + “Olla raight! Olla raight! Waita a leetle,” I heard Castro’s voice coming, + as if from under the ship. I said coldly a few words about the certain + punishment awaiting a pirate in Havana, and got on to my feet stiffly. But + Manuel was too terrified to understand what I meant. He attempted to + snatch at me with his imprisoned hands, and got for his pains a severe + jerking, which made his head roll about his shoulders weirdly. + </p> + <p> + “Pity, Señor!” he screamed. And then, with low fervour, “Don’t go away. + Listen! I am profound. Perhaps the Señor did not know that? Mercy! I am a + man of intrigue. A <i>politico</i>. You have escaped, and I rejoice at + it.”... He bared his fangs, and frothed like a mad dog.... “Señor, I am + made happy because of the love I bore you from the first—and + Domingo, who let you slip out of the Casa, is doomed. He is doomed. Thou + art doomed, Domingo! But the excessive affection for your noble person + inspires my intellect with a salutary combination. Wait, Señor! A moment! + An instant!... A combination!...” + </p> + <p> + He gasped as though his heart had burst. The seamen, open-mouthed, were + slowly narrowing their circle. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t he gabble!” remarked someone patiently. + </p> + <p> + His eyes were starting out of his head. He spoke with fearful rapidity. + </p> + <p> + “... There’s no refuge from the anger of the <i>Juez</i> but the grave—the + grave—the grave!... Ha! ha! Go into thy grave, Domingo. But you, + Señor—listen to my supplications—where will you go? To Havana. + The <i>Juez</i> is there, and I call the malediction of the priests on my + head if you, too, are not doomed. Life! Liberty! Señor, let me go, and I + shall run—I shall ride, Señor—I shall throw myself at the feet + of the <i>Juez</i>, and say... I shall say I killed you. I am greatly + trusted by the reason of my superior intelligence. I shall say, ‘Domingo + let him go—but he is dead. Think of him no more—of that <i>Inglez</i> + who escaped—from Domingo. Do not look for him. I, your own Manuel, + have killed him.’ Give me my life for yours, Señor. I shall swear I had + killed you with this right hand! Ah!” + </p> + <p> + He hung on my lips breathless, with a face so distorted that, though it + might have been death alone he hated, he looked, indeed, as if impatient + to set to and tear me to pieces with his long teeth. Men clutching at + straws must have faces thus convulsed by an eager and despairing hope. His + silence removed the spell—the spell of his incredible loquacity. I + heard the boatswain’s hoarse tones: + </p> + <p> + “Hold on well, ma’am. Right! Walk away steady with that whip!” + </p> + <p> + I ran limping forward. + </p> + <p> + “High enough,” he rumbled; and I received Seraphina into my arms. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h3> + <p> + I said, “This is home, at last. It is all over”; and she stood by me on + the deck. She pushed the heavy black cloak from over her head, and her + white face appeared above the dim black shadow of her mourning. She looked + silently round her on the mist, the groups of rough men, the spatterings + of light that were like violence, too. She said nothing, but rested her + hand on my arm. + </p> + <p> + She had her immense griefs, and this was the home I offered her. She + looked back at the side. I thought she would have liked to be in the boat + again. I said: + </p> + <p> + “The people in this ship are my old friends. You can trust them—and + me.” + </p> + <p> + Tomas Castro, clambering leisurely over the side, followed. As soon as his + feet touched the deck, he threw the corner of his cloak across his left + shoulder, bent down half the rim of his hat, and assumed the appearance of + a short, dark conspirator, overtopped by the stalwart sailors, who had + abandoned Manuel to crowd, bare-armed, bare-chested, pushing, and craning + their necks, round us. + </p> + <p> + She said, “I can trust you; it is my duty to trust you, and this is now my + home.” + </p> + <p> + It was like a definite pronouncement of faith—and of a line of + policy. She seemed, for that moment, quite apart from my love, a thing + very much above me and mine; closed up in an immense grief, but quite + whole-souledly determined to go unflinchingly into a new life, breaking + quietly with all her past for the sake of the traditions of all that past. + </p> + <p> + The sailors fell back to make way for us. It was only by the touch of her + hand on my arm that I had any hope that she trusted me, me personally, and + apart from the commands of the dead Carlos; the dead father, and the great + weight of her dead traditions that could be never anything any more for + her—except a memory. Ah, she stood it very well; her head was erect + and proud. The cabin door opened, and a rigid female figure with dry + outlines, and a smooth head, stood out with severe simplicity against the + light of the cabin door. The light falling on Seraphina seemed to show her + for the first time. A lamentable voice bellowed: + </p> + <p> + “Señorita!... Señorita!” and then, in an insinuating, heart-breaking tone, + “Señorita!...” + </p> + <p> + She walked quietly past the figure of the woman, and disappeared in the + brilliant light of the cabin. The door closed. I remained standing there. + Manuel, at her disappearance, raised his voice to a tremendous, incessant + yell of despair, as if he expected to make her hear. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Señorita... proteccion del opprimido; oh, hija de piedad... Señorita</i>.” + </p> + <p> + His lamentable noise brought half the ship round us; the sailors fell back + before the mate, Sebright, walking at the elbow of a stout man in loose + trousers and jacket. They stopped. + </p> + <p> + “An unexpected meeting, Captain Williams,” was all I found to say to him. + He had a constrained air, and shook hands in awkward silence. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do?” he said hurriedly. After a moment he added, with a sort + of confused, as if official air, “I hope, Kemp, you’ll be able to explain + satisfactorily...” + </p> + <p> + I said, rather off-handedly, “Why, the two men I killed ought to be + credentials enough for all immediate purposes!” + </p> + <p> + “That isn’t what I meant,” he said. He spoke rather with a mumble, and + apologetically. It was difficult to see in him any trace of the roystering + Williams who had roared toasts to my health in Jamaica, after the episode + at the Ferry Inn with the admiral. It was as if, now, he had a weight on + his mind. I was tired. I said: + </p> + <p> + “Two dead men is more than you or any of your crew can show. And, as far + as I can judge, you did no more than hold your own till I came.” + </p> + <p> + He positively stuttered, “Yes, yes. But...” + </p> + <p> + I got angry with what seemed stupid obstinacy. + </p> + <p> + “You’d be having a rope twisted tight round your head, or red-hot irons at + the soles of your feet, at this very moment, if it had not been for us,” I + said indignantly. + </p> + <p> + He wiped his forehead perplexedly. “Phew, how you do talk!” he + remonstrated. “What I mean is that my wife...” He stopped again, then went + on. “She took it into her head to come with me this voyage. For the first + time.... And you two coming alone in an open boat like this! It’s what she + isn’t used to.” + </p> + <p> + I simply couldn’t get at what he meant; I couldn’t even hear him very + well, because Manuel-del-Popolo was still calling out to Seraphina in the + cabin. Williams and I looked at each other—he embarrassed, and I + utterly confounded. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Williams thinks it’s irregular,” Sebright broke in, “you and your + young lady being alone—in an open boat at night, and that sort of + thing. It isn’t what they approve of at Bristol.” + </p> + <p> + Manuel suddenly bellowed out, “Señorita—save me from their + barbarity. I am a victim. Behold their bloody knives ready—and their + eyes which gloat.” + </p> + <p> + He shrank convulsively from the fellow with the bundle of cutlasses under + his arm, who innocently pushed his way close to him; he threw himself + forward, the two sailors hung back on his arms, nearly sitting on the + deck, and he strained dog-like in his intense fear of immediate death. + Williams, however, really seemed to want an answer to his absurdity that I + could not take very seriously. I said: + </p> + <p> + “What do you expect us to do? Go back to our boat, or what?” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to affect him a good deal. “Wait till you are caught by a good + woman yourself,” he mumbled wretchedly. + </p> + <p> + Was this the roystering Williams? The jolly good fellow? I wanted to + laugh, a little hysterically, because of the worry after great fatigue. + Was his wife such a terrifying virago? “A good woman,” Williams insisted. + I turned my eyes to Sebright, who looked on amusedly. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right,” he answered my questioning look. “She’s a good soul, but + she doesn’t see fellows like us in the congregation she worships with at + home.” Then he whispered in my ear, “Owner’s niece. Older than the + skipper. Married him for love. Suspects every woman—every man, too, + by George, except me, perhaps. She’s learned life in some back chapel in + Bristol. What can you expect? You go straight into the cabin,” he added. + </p> + <p> + At that moment the cabin door opened again, and the figure of the woman I + had seen before reappeared against the light. + </p> + <p> + “I was allowed to stand under the gate of the Casa, Excellency, I was in + very truth. Oh, turn not the light of your face from me.” Manuel, who had + been silent for a minute, immediately recommenced his clamour in the hope, + I suppose, that it would reach Seraphina’s ears, now the door was opened. + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done, Owen?” the woman asked, with a serenity I thought + very merciless. + </p> + <p> + She had precisely the air of having someone “in the house,” someone rather + questionable that you want, at home, to get rid of, as soon as a very + small charity permitted. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” I said rather coldly, “I appeal to your woman’s compassion....” + </p> + <p> + “Even thus the arch-enemy sets his snares,” she retorted on me a little + tremulously. + </p> + <p> + “Señorita, I have seen you grow,” Manuel called again. “Your father, who + is with the saints, gave me alms when I was a boy. Will you let them kill + a man to whom your father...” + </p> + <p> + “Snares. All snares. Can she be blessed in going away from her natural + guardians at night, alone, with a young man? How can we, consistently with + our duty...” + </p> + <p> + Her voice was cold and gentle. Even in the imperfect light her appearance + suggested something cold and monachal. The thought of what she might have + been saying, or, in the subtle way of women, making Seraphina feel, in + there, made me violently angry, but lucid, too. + </p> + <p> + “She comes straight from the fresh grave of her father,” I said. “I am her + only guardian.” + </p> + <p> + Manuel rose to the height of his appeal. “Señorita, I worshipped your + childhood, I threw my hat in the air many times before your coach, when + you drove out all in white, smiling, an angel from paradise. Excellency, + help me. Excel...” + </p> + <p> + A hand was clapped on his mouth then, and we heard only a great scuffle + going on behind us. The way to the cozy cabin remained barred. My heart + was kindled by resentment, but by the power of love my soul was made + tranquil, for come what absurdity might, I had Sera-phina safe for the + time. The woman in the doorway guarded the respectable ship’s cuddy from + the un-wedded vagabondage of romance. + </p> + <p> + “What’s to be done, Owen?” she asked again, but this time a little + irresolutely, I thought. “You know something of this—but I....” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, what an idea,” began Williams; and I heard his helpless mutters, + “Like a hero—one evening—admiral—old Topnambo—nothing + of her—on my soul—Lord’s son...” + </p> + <p> + Sebright spoke up from the side. “We could drive them overboard together, + certainly, Mrs. Williams, but that wouldn’t be quite proper, perhaps. Put + them each in a bag, separately, and drown them one on each side of the + ship, decently....” + </p> + <p> + “You will not put me off with your ungodly levity, Mr. Sebright.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am perfectly serious, Mrs. Williams. It may raise a mutiny amongst + these horrid, profane sailors, but I really don’t see how we are to get + rid of them else. The bo’sun has cut adrift their ramshackle, old sieve of + a boat, and she’s now a quarter of a mile astern, half-full of water. And + we can’t give them one of the ship’s boats to go and get their throats cut + ashore. J. Perkins, Esquire, wouldn’t like it. He would swear something + awful, if the boat got lost. Now, don’t say no, Mrs. Williams. I’ve heard + him myself swear a pound’s worth of oaths for a matter of tenpence. You + know very well what your uncle is. A perfect Turk in that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be scandalous, Mr. Sebright.” + </p> + <p> + “But I didn’t begin, Mrs. Williams. It’s you who are raising all this + trouble for nothing; because, as a matter of fact, they did not come + alone. They had a man with them. An elderly, most respectable man. There + he stands yonder, with a feather in his hat. Hey! You! <i>Señor caballero</i>, + hidalgo, Pedro—Miguel—José—what’s your particular saint? + Step this way a bit...” + </p> + <p> + Manuel managed to jerk a half-choked “Excellency,” and Castro, muffled up + to the eyes, began to walk slowly aft, pausing after each solemn stride. + The dark woman in the doorway was as effectual as an angel with a flaming + sword. She paralyzed me completely. + </p> + <p> + Sebright dropped his voice a little. “I don’t see that’s much worse than + going off at six o’clock in the morning to get married on the quiet; all + alone with a man in a hackney coach—you know you did—and being + given away by a perfect stranger.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sebright! Be quiet! How dare you?... Owen!” + </p> + <p> + Williams made a vague, growling noise, but Sebright, after muttering + hurriedly, “It’s all right, sir,” proceeded with the utmost coolness: + </p> + <p> + “Why, all Bristol knows it! There are those who said that you got out of + the scullery window into the back street. I am only telling you...” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be ashamed of yourself to believe such tales,” she cried in + great agitation. “I walked out at the gate!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And the gardener’s wife said you must have sneaked the key off the + nail by the side of the cradle—coming to the lodge the evening + before, to see her poor, ailing baby. You ought to know what love brings + the best of us to. And your uncle isn’t a bloody-handed pirate either. + He’s only a good-hearted, hard-swearing old heathen. And you, too, are + good-hearted. Come, Mrs. Williams. I know you’re just longing to tuck this + young lady up in bed—poor thing. Think what she has gone through! + You ought to be fussing with sherry and biscuits and what not—making + that good-for-nothing steward fly round. The beggar is hiding in the + lazarette, I bet. Now then—allow me.” + </p> + <p> + I got hold of the matter there again. I said—because I felt that the + matter only needed making clear: + </p> + <p> + “This young lady is the daughter of a great Spanish noble. Her father was + killed by these pirates. I am myself of noble family, and I am her + appointed guardian, and am trying to save her from a very horrible fate.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at me apprehensively. + </p> + <p> + “You would be committing a wicked act to try to interfere with this,” I + said. + </p> + <p> + I suppose I carried conviction. + </p> + <p> + “I must believe what you say,” she said. She added suddenly, with a sort + of tremulous, warm feeling, “There, there. I don’t mean to be unkind. I + knew nothing, and a married woman can’t be too careful. For all I could + have told, you might have been a—a libertine; one of the poor lost + souls that Satan...” + </p> + <p> + Manuel, as if struggling with the waves, managed to free his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Excellency, help!” he spluttered, like a drowning man. + </p> + <p> + “I will give the young lady every care,” Mrs. Williams said, “until light + shall be vouchsafed.” + </p> + <p> + She shut the door. + </p> + <p> + “You will go too far, Sebright,” Williams remonstrated; “and I’ll have to + give you the sack.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right, captain. I can turn her round my little finger,” said the + young man cheerily. “Somebody has to do it if you won’t—or can’t. + What shall we do with that yelping Dago? He’s a distressful beast to have + about the decks.” + </p> + <p> + “Put him in the coal-hole, I suppose, as far as Havana. I won’t rest till + I see him on his way to the gallows. The Captain-General shall be made + sick of this business, or my name isn’t Williams. I’ll make a breeze over + it at home. You shall help in that, Kemp. You ain’t afraid of big-wigs. + Not you. You ain’t afraid of anything....” + </p> + <p> + “He’s a devil of a fellow, and a dead shot,” threw in Sebright. “And jolly + lucky for us, too, sir. It’s simply marvellous that you should turn up + like this, Mr. Kemp. We hadn’t a grain of powder that wasn’t caked solid + in the canisters. Nothing’ll take it out of my head that somebody had got + at the magazine while we lay in Kingston....” + </p> + <p> + It did not occur to Williams to ask whether I was wounded, or tired, or + hungry. And yet all through the West Indies the dinners you got on board + the Lion were famous in shipping circles. But festive men of his stamp are + often like that. They do it more for the glory and romance of the + hospitality, and he could not, perhaps, under the circumstances, expect me + to intone “for he is a jolly good fellow” over the wine. He was by no + means a bad or unfeeling man; only he was not hungry himself, and + another’s mere necessity of that sort failed to excite his imagination. I + know he was no worse than other men, and I have reason to remember him + with gratitude; but, at the time, I was surprised and indignant at the + extraordinary way he took my presence for granted, as if I had come off + casually in a shore boat to idle away an hour or two on board. Since his + wife appeared satisfied, he did not seem to desire any explanation. I felt + as if I had for him no independent existence. When I had ceased to be a + source of domestic difficulty, I became a precious sort of convenience, a + most welcome person (“an English gentleman to back me up,” he repeated + several times), who would help him to make “these old women at the + Admiralty sit up!” A burning shame, this! It had gone on long enough, God + knows, but if they were to tackle an old trader, like the “Lion”, now, it + was time the whole country should hear of it. His owner, J. Perkins, his + wife’s uncle, wasn’t the man to go to sleep over the job. Parliament + should hear of it. Most fortunate I was there to be produced—eye-witness—nobleman’s + son. He knew I could speak up in a good cause. + </p> + <p> + “And by the way, Kemp,” he said, with sudden annoyance, recollecting + himself, as it were, “you never turned up for that dinner—sent no + word, nor anything....” + </p> + <p> + Williams had been talking to me, but it was with Sebright that I felt + myself growing intimate. The young mate of the “Lion” stood by, very + quiet, listening with a capable smile. Now he said, in a tone of dry + comment: + </p> + <p> + “Jolly sight more useful turning up here.” + </p> + <p> + “I was kidnapped away from Ramon’s back shop, if that’s a sufficient + apology. It’s rather a long story.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can’t tell it on deck, that’s very clear,” Sebright had to + shout to me. “Not while this infernal noise—what the deuce’s up? It + sounds more like a dog-fight than anything else.” + </p> + <p> + As we ran towards the main hatch I recognized the aptness of the + comparison. It was that sort of vicious, snarling, yelping clamour which + arises all at once and suddenly dies. + </p> + <p> + “Castro! Thou Castro!” + </p> + <p> + “Malediction... My eyelids...” + </p> + <p> + “Thou! Englishman’s dog!” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! <i>Porco</i>.” + </p> + <p> + The voices ceased. Castro ran tiptoeing lightly, mantled in ample folds. + He assumed his hat with a brave tap, crouched swiftly inside his cloak. It + touched the deck all round in a black cone surmounted by a peering, + quivering head. Quick as thought he hopped and sank low again. Everybody + watched with wonder this play, as of some large and diabolic toy. For my + part, knowing the deadly purpose of these preliminaries, I was struck with + horror. Had he chosen to run on him at once, nothing could have saved + Manuel. The poor wretch, vigorously held in front of Castro, was far too + terrified to make a sound. With an immovable sailor on each side, he + scuffled violently, and cowered by starts as if tied up between two stone + posts. His dumb, rapid panting was in our ears. I shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Castro! Stop!... Stop him, some of you! He means to kill the + fellow!” + </p> + <p> + Nobody heeded my shouting. Castro flung his cloak on the deck, jumped on + it, kicked it aside, all in the same moment as it seemed, dodged to the + right, to the left, drew himself up, and stepped high, paunchy in his + tight smalls and short jacket, making all the time a low, sibilant sound, + which was perfectly blood-curdling. + </p> + <p> + “He has a blade on his forearm!” I yelled. “He’s armed, I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + No one could comprehend my distress. A sailor, raising a lamp, had a broad + smile. Somebody laughed outright. Castro planted himself before Manuel, + nodded menacingly, and stooped ready for a spring. I was too late in my + grab at his collar, but Manuel’s guardians, acting with precision, put out + one arm each to meet his rush, and he came flying backwards upon me, as + though he had rebounded from a wall. + </p> + <p> + He had almost knocked me down, and while I staggered to keep my feet the + air resounded with urgent calls to shoot, to fire, to bring him down!... + “Kill him, Señor!” came in an entreating yell from Castro. And I became + aware that Manuel had taken this opportunity to wrench himself free. I + heard the hard thud of his leap. Straight from the hatch (as I was told + later by the marvelling sailors) he had alighted with both feet on the + rail. I only saw him already there, sitting on his heels, jabbering and + nodding at us like an enormous baboon. “Shoot, sir! Shoot!” “Kill! Kill, + Señor! As you love your life—kill!” + </p> + <p> + Unwittingly, without volition, as if compelled by the suggestion of the + bloodthirsty cries, my hand drew the remaining pistol out of my belt. I + raised it, and found myself covering the strange antics of an infuriated + ape. He tore at his flanks with both hands in the idea, I suppose, of + stripping for a swim. Rags flew from him in all directions; an astounding + eruption of rags round a huddled-up figure crouching, wildly active, in + front of the muzzle. I had him. I was sure of my shot. He was only an ape. + A dead ape. But why? Wherefore? To what end? What could it matter whether + he lived or died. He sickened me, and I pitied him, as I should have + pitied an ape. + </p> + <p> + I lowered my arm an almost imperceptible fraction of a second before he + sprang up and vanished. The sound of the heavy plunge was followed by a + regretful clamour all over the decks, and a general rush to the side. + There was nothing to be seen; he had gone through the layer of fog + covering the water. No one heard him blow or splutter. It was as if a lump + of lead had fallen overboard. + </p> + <p> + Williams wouldn’t have had this happen for a five-pound note. Sebright + expressed the hope that he wouldn’t cheat the gallows by drowning. The two + men who had held him slunk away abashed. To lower a boat for the purpose + of catching him in the water would have been useless and imprudent. + </p> + <p> + “His friends can’t be far off yet in the boats,” growled the bo’sun; “and + if they don’t pick him up, they would be more than likely to pick up our + chaps.” + </p> + <p> + Somebody expectorated in so marked a manner that I looked behind me. + Castro had resumed his cloak, and was draping himself with deliberate + dignity. When this undertaking had been accomplished, he came up very + close to me, and without a word looked up balefully from the heavy folds + thrown across his mouth and chin under the very tip of his hooked nose. + </p> + <p> + “I could not do it,” I said. “I could not. It would have been useless. Too + much like murder, Tomas.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the inconstancy, the fancifulness of these English,” he generalized, + with suppressed passion, right into my face. “I don’t know what’s worse, + their fury or their pity. The childishness of it! The childishness.... Do + you imagine, Señor, that Manuel or the Juez O’Brien shall some day spare + you in their turn? If I didn’t know the courage of your nation...” + </p> + <p> + “I despise the <i>Juez</i> and Manuel alike,” I interrupted angrily. I + despised Castro, too, at that moment, and he paid me back with interest. + There was no mistaking his scathing tone. + </p> + <p> + “I know you well. You scorn your friends, as well as your foes. I have + seen so many of you. The blessed saints guard us from the calamity of your + friendship....” + </p> + <p> + “No friendship could make an assassin of me, Mr. Castro....” + </p> + <p> + “... Which is only a very little less calamitous than your enmity,” he + continued, in a cold rage. “A very little less. You let Manuel go.... + Manuel!... Because of your mercy.... Mercy! Bah! It is all your pride—your + mad pride. You shall rue it, Señor. Heaven is just. You shall rue it, + Señor.” + </p> + <p> + He denounced me prophetically, wrapped up with an air of midnight secrecy; + but, after all, he had been a friend in the act, if not in the spirit, and + I contented myself by asking, with some pity for his imbecile craving + after murder: + </p> + <p> + “Why? What can Manuel do to me? He at least is completely helpless.” + </p> + <p> + “Did the Señor Don Juan ever ask himself what Manuel could do to me—Tomas + Castro? To me, who am poor and a vagabond, and a friend of Don Carlos, may + his soul rest with God. Are all you English like princes that you should + never think of anybody but yourselves?” + </p> + <p> + He revolted and provoked me, as if his opinion of the English could + matter, or his point of view signify anything against the authority of my + conscience. And it is our conscience that illumines the romantic side of + our life. His point of view was as benighted and primitive as the point of + view of hunger; but, in his fidelity to the dead architect of my fortunes, + he reflected dimly the light of Carlos’ romance, and I had taken advantage + of it, not so much for the saving of my life as for the guarding of my + love. I had reached that point when love displaces one’s personality, when + it becomes the only ground under our feet, the only sky over our head, the + only light of vision, the first condition of thought—when we are + ready to strive for it, as we fight for the breath of our body. Brusquely + I turned my back on him, and heard the repeated clicking of flint against + his blade. He lighted a cigarette, and crossed the deck to lean cloaked + against the bulwark, smoking moodily under his slouched hat. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h3> + <p> + Manuel’s escape was the last event of that memorable night. Nothing more + happened, and nothing more could be done; but there remained much talk and + wonderment to get through. I did all the talking, of course, under the + cuddy lamps. Williams, red and stout, sat staring at me across the table. + His round eyes were perfectly motionless with astonishment—the story + of what had happened in the Casa Riego was not what he had expected of the + small, badly reputed Cuban town. + </p> + <p> + Sebright, who had all the duties of the soiled ship and chipped men to + attend to, came in from the deck several times, and would stand listening + for minutes with his fingers playing thoughtfully about his slight + moustache. The dawn was not very far when he led me into his own cabin. I + was half dead with fatigue, and troubled by an inward restlessness. + </p> + <p> + “Turn in into my berth,” said Sebright. + </p> + <p> + I protested with a stiff tongue, but he gave me a friendly push, and I + tumbled like a log on to the bedclothes. As soon as my head felt the + pillow the fresh colouring of his face appeared blurred, and an arm, + mistily large, was extended to put out the light of the lamp screwed to + the bulkhead. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you know there are warrants out in Jamaica against you—for + that row with the admiral,” he said. + </p> + <p> + An irresistible and unexpected drowsiness had relaxed all my limbs. + </p> + <p> + “Hang Jamaica!” I said, with difficult animation. “We are going home.” + </p> + <p> + “Hang Jamaica!” he agreed. Then, in the dark, as if coming after me across + the obscure threshold of sleep, his voice meditated, “I am sorry, though, + we are bound for Havana. Pity. Great pity! Has it occurred to you, Mr. + Kemp, that...” + </p> + <p> + It is very possible that he did not finish his sentence; no more + penetrated, at least, into my drowsy ear. I awoke slowly from a + trance-like sleep, with a confused notion of having to pick up the thread + of a dropped hint. I went up on deck. + </p> + <p> + The sun shone, a faint breeze blew, the sea sparkled freshly, and the wet + decks glistened. I stood still, touched by the new glory of light falling + on me; it was a new world—new and familiar, yet disturbingly + beautiful. I seemed to discover all sorts of secret charms that I had + never seen in things I had seen a hundred times. The watch on deck were + busy with brooms and buckets; a sailor, coiling a rope over a pin, paused + in his work to point over the port-quarter, with a massive fore-arm like a + billet of red mahogany. + </p> + <p> + I looked about, rubbing my eyes. The “Lion”, close hauled, was heading + straight away from the coast, which stood out, not very far yet, outlined + heavily and flooded with light. Astern, and to leeward of us, against a + headland of black and indigo, a dazzling white speck resembled a snowflake + fallen upon the blue of the sea. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a schooner,” said the seaman. + </p> + <p> + They were the first words I heard that morning, and their friendly + hoarseness brushed away whatever of doubt might seem to mar the + inexplicability of my new glow of my happiness. It was because we were + safe—she and I—and because my undisturbed love let my heart + open to the beauty of the young day and the joyousness of a splendid sea. + I took deep breaths, and my eyes went all over the ship, embracing, like + an affectionate contact, her elongated shape, the flashing brasses, the + tall masts, the gentle curves of her sails soothed into perfect stillness + by the wind. I felt that she was a shrine, for was not Seraphina sleeping + in her, as safe as a child in its cradle? And presently the beauty, the + serenity, the purity, and the splendour of the world would be reflected in + her clear eyes, and made over to me by her glance. + </p> + <p> + There are times when an austere and just Providence, in its march along + the inscrutable way, brings our hearts to the test of their own unreason. + Which of us has not been tried by irrational awe, fear, pride, abasement, + exultation? And such moments remain marked by indelible physical + impressions, standing out of the ghostly level of memory like rocks out of + the sea, like towers on a plain. I had many of these unforgettable + emotions—the profound horror of Don Balthasar’s death; the first + floating of the boat, like the opening of wings in space; the first + fluttering of the flames in the fog—many others afterwards, more + cruel, more terrible, with a terror worse than death, in which the very + suffering was lost; and also this—this moment of elation in the + clear morning, as if the universe had shed its glory upon my feelings as + the sunshine glorifies the sea. I laughed in very lightness of heart, in a + profound sense of success; I laughed, irresponsible and oblivious, as one + laughs in the thrilling delight of a dream. + </p> + <p> + “Do I look so confoundedly silly?” asked Sebright, speaking as though he + had a heavy cold. “I am stupid—tired. I’ve been on my feet this + twenty-four hours—about the liveliest in my life, too. You haven’t + slept very long either—none of us have. I’m sure I hope your young + lady has rested.” + </p> + <p> + He put his hands in his pockets. He might have been very tired, but I had + never seen a boy fresh out of bed with a rosier face. The black pin-points + of his pupils seemed to bore through distance, exploring the horizon + beyond my shoulder. The man called Mike, the one I had had the tussle with + overnight, came up behind the indefatigable mate, and shyly offered me my + pistol. His head was bound over the top, and under the chin, as if for + toothache, and his bronzed, rough-hewn face looked out astonishingly + through the snowy whiteness of the linen. Only a few hours before, we had + been doing our best to kill each other. In my cordial glow, I bantered him + light-heartedly about his ferocity and his strength. + </p> + <p> + He stood before me, patiently rubbing the brown instep of one thick foot + with the horny sole of the other. + </p> + <p> + “You paid me off for that bit, sir,” he said bashfully. “It was in the way + of duty.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m uncommon glad you didn’t squeeze the ghost out of me,” I said; “a + morning like this is enough to make you glad you can breathe.” + </p> + <p> + To this day I remember the beauty of that rugged, grizzled, hairy seaman’s + eyelashes. They were long and thick, shadowing the eyes softly like the + lashes of a young girl. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure, sir, we wish you luck—to you and the young lady—all + of us,” he said shamefacedly; and his bass, half-concealed mutter was + quite as sweet to my ears as a celestial melody; it was, after all, the + sanction of simple earnestness to my desires and hopes—a witness + that he and his like were on my side in the world of romance. + </p> + <p> + “Well, go forward now, Mike,” Sebright said, as I took the pistol. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a blessing to talk to one’s own people,” I said, expansively, to + him. “He’s a fine fellow.” I stuck the pistol in my belt. “I trust I shall + never need to use barrel or butt again, as long as I live.” + </p> + <p> + “A very sensible wish,” Sebright answered, with a sort of reserve of + meaning in his tone; “especially as on board here we couldn’t find you a + single pinch of powder for a priming. Do you notice the consort we have + this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “What do I want with powder?” I asked. “Do you mean that?” I pointed to + the white sail of the schooner. Sebright, looking hard at me, nodded + several times. + </p> + <p> + “We sighted her as soon as day broke. D’you know what she means?” + </p> + <p> + I said I supposed she was a coaster. + </p> + <p> + “It means, most likely, that the fellow with the curls that made me think + of my maiden aunt, has managed to keep his horse-face above water.” He + meant Manuel-del-Popolo. “What mischief he may do yet before he runs his + head into a noose, it’s hard to say. The old Spaniard you brought with you + thinks he has already been busy—for no good, you may be sure.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that’s one of the Rio schooners?” I asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + That, with all its consequent troubles forme, was what he did mean. He + said I might take his word for it that, with the winds we had had, no + craft working along the coast could be just there now unless she came out + of Rio Medio. There was a calm almost up to sunrise, and it looked as if + they had towed her out with boats before daylight.... “Seems a rather + unlikely bit of exertion for the lazy brutes; but if they are as much + afraid of that confounded Irishman as you say they are, that would account + for their energy.” + </p> + <p> + They would steal and do murder simply for the love of God, but it would + take the fear of a devil to make them do a bit of honest work—and + pulling an oar <i>was</i> honest work, no matter why it was done. This was + the combined wisdom of Sebright and of Tomas Castro, with whom he had been + in consultation. As to the fear of the devil, O’Brien was very much like a + devil, an efficient substitute. And there was certainly somebody or + something to make them bestir themselves like this.... + </p> + <p> + Before my mind arose a scene: Manuel, the night before, pulled out of the + water into a boat—raging, half-drowned, eloquent, inspired. The + contemptible beast <i>was</i> inspired, as a politician is, a demagogue. + He could sway his fellows, as I had heard enough to know. And I felt a + slight chill on the warmth of my hope, because that bright sail, + brilliantly and furtively dodging along in our wake, must be the product + of Manuel’s inspiration, urged to perseverance by the fear of O’Brien. The + mate continued, staring knowingly at it: + </p> + <p> + “You know I am putting two and two together, like the old maids that come + to see my aunt when they want to take away a woman’s character. The Dagos + are out and no mistake. The question is, Why? You must know whether those + schooners can sail anything; but don’t forget the old <i>Lion</i> is + pretty smart. Is it likely they’ll attempt the ship again?” + </p> + <p> + I negatived that at once. I explained to Sebright that the store of + ammunition in Rio Medio would not run to it; that the <i>Lugareños</i> + were cowardly, divided by faction, incapable, by themselves, of combining + for any length of time, and still less of following a plan requiring + perseverance and hardihood. + </p> + <p> + “They can’t mean anything in the nature of open attack,” I affirmed. “They + may have attempted something of the sort in Nichols’ time, but it isn’t in + their nature.” + </p> + <p> + Sebright said that was practically Castro’s opinion, too—except that + Castro had emphasized his remarks by spitting all the time, “like an old + tomcat. He seems a very spiteful man, with no great love for you, Mr. + Kemp. Do you think it safe to have him about you? What are all these + grievances of his?” + </p> + <p> + Castro seemed to have spouted his bile like a volcano, and had rather + confused Sebright. He had said much about being a friend of the Spanish + lord—Carlos; and that now he had no place on earth to hide his head. + </p> + <p> + “As far as I could make out, he’s wanted in England,” said Sebright, “for + some matter of a stolen watch, years ago in Liverpool, I think. And your + cousin, the grandee, was mixed up in that, too. That sounds funny; you + didn’t tell us about that. Damme if he didn’t seem to imply that you, + too... But you have never been in Liverpool. Of course not....” + </p> + <p> + But that had not been precisely Castro’s point. He had affirmed he had + enemies in Spain; he shuddered at the idea of going to France, and now my + English fancifulness had made it impossible for him to live in Rio Medio, + where he had had the care of a good <i>pad-rona</i>. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he means a landlady,” Sebright chuckled. “Old but good, he + says. He expected to die there in peace, a good Christian. And what’s that + about the priests getting hold of his very last bit of silver? I must say + that sounded truest of all his rigmarole. For the salvation of his soul, I + suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my cousin’s soul,” I said gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “Humbugs. I only understood one word in three.” + </p> + <p> + Just then Tomas himself stalked into sight among the men forward. Coming + round the corner of the deck-house, he stopped at the galley door like a + crow outside a hut, waiting. We watched him getting a light for his + cigarette at the galley door with much dignified pantomime. The negro cook + of the <i>Lion</i>, holding out to him in the doorway a live coal in a + pair of tongs, turned his Ethiopian face and white ivories towards a group + of sailors lost in the contemplation of the proceedings.’ And, when Castro + had passed them, spurting jets of smoke, they swung about to look after + his short figure, upon whose draped blackness the sunlight brought out + reddish streaks as if bucketfuls of rusty water had been thrown over him + from hat to toe. The end of his broken plume hung forward aggressively. + </p> + <p> + “Look how the fellow struts! Night and thunder! Hey, Don Tenebroso! Would + your worship hasten hither....” Sebright hailed jocularly. + </p> + <p> + Castro, without altering his pace, came up to us. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of her now?” asked Sebright, pointing to the strange + sail. “She’s grown a bit plainer, now she is out of the glare.” + </p> + <p> + Castro, wrapping his chin, stood still, face to the sea. After a long + while: + </p> + <p> + “Malediction,” he pronounced slowly, and without moving his head shot a + sidelong glance at me. + </p> + <p> + “It’s clear enough how <i>he</i> feels about our friends over there. + Malediction. Just so. Very proper. But it seems as though he had a bone to + pick with all the world,” drawled Sebright, a little sleepily. Then, + resuming his briskness, he bantered, “So you don’t want to go to England, + Mr. Castro? No friends there? <i>Sus. per col.</i>, and that sort of + thing?” + </p> + <p> + Castro, contemptuous, staring straight away, nodded impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “But this gentleman you are so devoted to is going to England—to his + friends.” + </p> + <p> + Castro’s arms shook under the mantle falling all round him straight from + the neck. His whole body seemed convulsed. From his puckered dark lips + issued a fiendish and derisive squeal. + </p> + <p> + “Let his friends beware, then. <i>Por Dios!</i> Let them beware. Let them + pray and fast, and beg the intercession of the saints. Ha! ha! ha!...” + </p> + <p> + Nothing could have been more unlike his saturnine self-centred truculence + of restraint. He impressed me; and even Sebright’s steady, cool eyes grew + perceptibly larger before this sarcastic fury. Castro choked; the rusty, + black folds encircling him shook and heaved. Unexpectedly he thrust out in + front of the cloak one yellow, dirty little hand, side by side with the + bright end of his fixed blade. + </p> + <p> + “What do I hear? To England! Going to England! Ha! Then let him hasten + there straight! Let him go straight there, I say—I, Tomas Castro!” + </p> + <p> + He lowered his tone to impress us more, and the point of the knife, as it + were an emphatic forefinger, tapped the open palm forcibly. Did we think + that a man was not already riding along the coast to Havana on a fast + mule?—the very best mule from the stables of Don Balthasar himself—that + murdered saint. The Captain-General had no such mules. His late excellency + owned a sugar estate halfway between Rio Medio and Havana, and a relay of + riding mules was kept there for quickness when His Excellency of holy + memory found occasion to write his commands to the capital. The news of + our escape would reach the <i>Juez</i> next day at the latest. Manuel + would take care of that—unless he were drowned. But he could swim + like a fish. Malediction! + </p> + <p> + “I cried out to you to kill!” he addressed me directly; “with all my soul + I cried. And why? Because he had seen you and the senorita, too, alas! He + should have been made dumb—made dumb with your pistol, Señor, since + those two stupid English mariners were too much for an old man like me. + Manuel should have been made dumb—dumb forever, I say. What mattered + he—that gutter-born offspring of an evil <i>Gitana</i>, whom I have + seen, Señor! I, myself, have seen her in the days of my adversity in + Madrid, Señor—a red flower behind the ear, clad in rags that did not + cover all her naked skin, looking on while they fought for her with knives + in a wine-shop full of beggars and thieves. Si, senor. That’s his mother. + <i>Improvisador—politico—capataz</i>. Ha.... Dirt!” + </p> + <p> + He made a gesture of immense contempt. + </p> + <p> + “What mattered he? The coach would have returned from the cathedral, and + the Casa Riego could have been held for days—and who could have + known you were not inside. I had conversed earnestly with Cesar the + major-domo—an African, it is true, but a man of much character and + excellent sagacity. Ah, Manuel! Manuel! If I———But the + devil himself fathers the children of such mothers. I am no longer in + possession of my first vigour, and you, Señor, have all the folly of your + nation....” + </p> + <p> + He bared his grizzled head to me loftily. + </p> + <p> + “... And the courage! Doubtless, that is certain. It is well. You may want + it all before long, Señor... And the courage!” + </p> + <p> + The broken plume swept the deck. For a time he blinked his creased, brown + eyelids in the sun, then pulled his hat low down over his brows, and, + wrapping himself up closely, turned away from me to look at the sail to + leeward. + </p> + <p> + “What an old, old, wrinkled, little, puffy beggar he is!” observed + Sebright, in an undertone... + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what is your worship’s opinion as to the purpose of that + schooner?” + </p> + <p> + Castro shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows?”... He released the gathered + folds of his cloak, and moved off without a look at either of us. + </p> + <p> + “There he struts, with his wings drooping like a turkey-cock gone into + deep mourning,” said Sebright. “Who knows? Ah, well, there’s no hurry to + know for a day or two. I don’t think that craft could overhaul the Lion, + if they tried ever so. They may manage to keep us in sight perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + He yawned, and left me standing motionless, thinking of Seraphina. I + longed to see her—to make sure, as if my belief in the possession of + her had been inexplicably weakened. I was going to look at the door of her + cabin. But when I got as far as the companion I had to stand aside for + Mrs. Williams, who was coming up the winding stairs. + </p> + <p> + From above I saw the gray woollen shawl thrown over her narrow shoulders. + Her parting made a broad line on her brown head. She mounted busily, + holding up a little the front of her black, plain skirt. Her glance met + mine with a pale, searching candour from below. + </p> + <p> + Overnight she had heard all my story. She had come out to the saloon + whilst I had been giving it to Williams, and after saying reassuringly, + “The young lady, I am thankful, is asleep,” she had sat with her eyes + fixed upon my lips. I had been aware of her anxious face, and of the + slight, nervous movements of her hands at certain portions of my narrative + under the blazing lamps. We met now, for the first time, in the daylight. + </p> + <p> + Hastily, as if barring my road to Seraphina’s cabin, “Miss Riego, I would + have you know,” she said, “is in good bodily health. I have this moment + looked upon her again. The poor, superstitious young lady is on her knees, + crossing herself.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Williams shuddered slightly. It was plain that the sight of that + popish practice had given her a shock—almost a scare, as if she had + seen a secret and nefarious rite. I explained that Seraphina, being a + Catholic, worshipped as her lights enjoined, as we did after ours. Mrs. + Williams only sighed at this, and, making an effort, proposed that I + should walk with her a little. We began to pace the poop, she gliding with + short steps at my side, and drawing close the skimpy shawl about her. The + smooth bands of her hair put a shadow into the slight hollows of her + temples. No nun, in the chilly meekness of the habit, had ever given me + such a strong impression of poverty and renunciation. + </p> + <p> + But there was in that faded woman a warmth of sentiment. She flushed + delicately whenever caught (and one could not help catching her + continually) following her husband with eyes that had an expression of + maternal uneasiness and the captivated attention of a bride. And after she + had got over the idea that I, as a member of the male British aristocracy, + was dissolute—it was an article of faith with her—that warmth + of sentiment would bring a faint, sympathetic rosiness to her sunken + cheeks. + </p> + <p> + She said suddenly and trembling, “Oh, young sir, reflect upon these things + before it is too late. You young men, in your luxurious, worldly, + ungoverned lives...” + </p> + <p> + I shall never forget that first talk with her on the poop—her + hurried, nervous voice (for she was a timid woman, speaking from a sense + of duty), and the extravagant forms her ignorance took. With the emotions + of the past night still throbbing in my brain and heart, with the sight of + the sea and the coast, with the Rio Medio schooner hanging on our quarter, + I listened to her, and had a hard task to believe my ears. She was so + convinced that I was “dissolute,” because of my class—as an earl’s + grandson. + </p> + <p> + It is difficult to imagine how she arrived at the conviction; it must have + been from pulpit denunciations of the small Bethel on the outskirt of + Bristol. Her uncle, J. Perkins, was a great ruffian, certainly, and + Williams was dissolute enough, if one wished to call his festive + imbecilities by a hard name. But these two could, by no means, be said to + belong to the upper classes. And these two, apart from her favourite + preacher, were the only two men of whom she could be said to have more + than a visual knowledge. + </p> + <p> + She had spent her best years in domestic slavery to her bachelor uncle, an + old shipowner of savage selfishness; she had been the deplorable mistress + of his big, half-furnished house, standing in a damp garden full of trees. + The outrageous Perkins had been a sailor in his time—mate of a + privateer in the great French war, afterwards master of a slaver, + developing at last into the owner of a small fleet of West Indiamen. + Williams was his favourite captain, whom he would bring home in the + evening to drink rum and water, and smoke churchwarden pipes with him. The + niece had to sit up, too, at these dismal revels. Old Perkins would keep + her out of bed to mix the grogs, till he was ready to climb the bare stone + staircase, echoing from top to bottom with his stumbles. However, it seems + he dozed a good deal in snatches during the evening, and this, I suppose, + gave their opportunity to the pale, spiritual-looking spinster with the + patient eyes, and to the thick, staring Williams, florid with good living, + and utterly unused to the company of women of that sort. But in what way + these two unsimilar beings had looked upon each other, what she saw in + him, what he imagined her to be like, why, how, wherefore, an + understanding arose between them, remains inexplicable. It was her romance—and + it is even possible that he was moved by an unselfish sentiment. Sebright + accounted for the matter by saying that, as to the woman, it was no + wonder. Anything to get away from a bullying old ruffian, that would use + bad language in cold blood just to horrify her—and then burst into a + laugh and jeer; but as to Captain Williams (Sebright had been with him + from a boy), he ought to have known he was quite incapable of keeping + straight after all these free-and-easy years. + </p> + <p> + He used to talk a lot, about that time, of good women, of settling down to + a respectable home, of leading a better life; but, of course, he couldn’t. + Simply couldn’t, what with old friends in Kingston and Havana—and + his habits formed—and his weakness for women who, as Sebright put + it, could not be called good. Certainly there did not seem to have been + any sordid calculation in the marriage. Williams fully expected to lose + his command; but, as it turned out, the old beast, Perkins, was quite + daunted by the loss of his niece. He found them out in their lodgings, + came to them crying—absolutely whimpering about his white hairs, + talking touchingly of his will, and promising amendment. In the end it was + arranged that Williams should keep his command; and Mrs. Williams went + back to her uncle. That was the best of it. Actually went back to look + after that lonely old rip, out of pure pity and goodness of heart. Of + course old Perkins was afraid to treat her as badly as before, and + everything was going on fairly well, till some kind friend sent her an + anonymous letter about Williams’ goings on in Jamaica. Sebright strongly + suspected the master of another regular trading ship, with whom Williams + had a difference in Kingston the voyage before last—Sebright said—about + a small matter, with long hair—not worth talking about. She said + nothing at first, and nearly worried herself into a brain-fever. Then she + confessed she had a letter—didn’t believe it—but wanted a + change, and would like to come for one voyage. Nothing could be said to + that. + </p> + <p> + The worst was, the captain was so knocked over at the idea of his little + sins coming to light, that he—Sebright—had the greatest + difficulty in preventing him from giving himself away. + </p> + <p> + “If I hadn’t been really fond of her,” Sebright concluded, “I would have + let everything go by the board. It’s too difficult. And mind, the whole of + Kingston was on the broad grin all the time we were there—but it’s + no joke. She’s a good woman, and she’s jealous. She wants to keep her own. + Never had much of her own in this world, poor thing. She can’t help + herself any more than the skipper can. Luckily, she knows no more of life + than a baby. But it’s a most cruel set out.” + </p> + <p> + Sebright had exposed the domestic situation on board the <i>Lion</i> with + a force of insight and sympathy hardly to be expected from his years. No + doubt his attachment to the disparate couple counted for not a little. He + seemed to feel for them both a sort of exasperated affection; but I have + no doubt that in his way he was a remarkable young man with his contrasted + bringing up first at the hands of an old maiden lady; afterwards on board + ship with Williams, to whom he was indentured at the age of fifteen, when + as he casually mentioned—“a scoundrelly attorney in Exeter had run + off with most of the old girl’s money.” Indeed, looking back, they all + appear to me uncommon; even to the round-eyed Williams, cowed simply out + of respect and regard for his wife, and as if dazed with fright at the + conventional catastrophe of being found out before he could get her safely + back to Bristol. As to Mrs. Williams, I must confess that the poor woman’s + ridiculous and genuine misery, inducing her to undertake the voyage, + presented itself to me simply as a blessing, there on the poop. She had + been practically good to Seraphina, and her talking to me mattered very + little, set against that.... And such talk! + </p> + <p> + It was like listening to an earnest, impassioned, tremulous impertinence. + She seemed to start from the assumption that I was capable of every + villainy, and devoid of honour and conscience; only one perceived that she + used the words from the force of unworldly conviction, and without any + real knowledge of their meaning, as a precocious child uses terms borrowed + from its pastors and masters. + </p> + <p> + I was greatly disconcerted at first, but I was never angry. What of it, + if, with a sort of sweet absurdity, she talked in great agitation of the + depravity of hearts, of the sin of light-mindedness, of the self-deception + which leads men astray—a confused but purposeful jumble, in which + occasional allusions to the errors of Rome, and to the want of seriousness + in the upper classes, put in a last touch of extravagance? + </p> + <p> + What of it? The time was coming when I should remember the frail, homely, + as if starved, woman, and thank heaven for her generous heart, which was + gained for us from that moment. Far from being offended, I was drawn to + her. There is a beauty in the absolute conscience of the simple; and + besides, her distrust was for me, alone. I saw that she erected* herself + not into a judge, but into a guardian, against the dangers of our youth + and our romance. She was disturbed by its origin. + </p> + <p> + There was so much of the unusual, of the unheard of in its beginning, that + she was afraid of the end. I was so inexperienced, she said, and so was + the young lady—poor motherless thing—wilful, no doubt—so + very taking—like a little child, rather. Had I comprehended all my + responsibility? (And here one of the hurried side-allusions to the errors + of Rome came in with a reminder, touching the charge of another immortal + soul beside my own.) Had I reflected?... + </p> + <p> + It seems to me that this moment was the last of my boyishness. It was as + if the contact with her earnestness had matured me with a power greater + than the power of dangers, of fear, of tragic events. She wanted to know + insistently whether I were sure of myself, whether I had examined my + feelings, and had measured my strength, and had asked for guidance. I had + done nothing of this. Not till brought face to face with her unanswerable + simplicity did I descend within myself. It seemed I had descended so + deeply that, for a time, I lost the sound of her voice. And again I heard + her. + </p> + <p> + “There’s time yet,” she was saying. “Think, young sir (she had addressed + me throughout as ‘young sir.’) My husband and I have been talking it over + most anxiously. Think well before you commit the young lady for life. You + are both so young. It looks as if we had been sent providentially....” + </p> + <p> + What was she driving at? Did she doubt my love? It was rather horrible; + but it was too startling and too extravagant to be met with anger. We + looked at each other, and I discovered that she had been, in reality, + tremendously excited by this adventure. This was the secret of her + audacity. And I was also possessed by excitement. We stood there like two + persons meeting in a great wind. Without moving her hands, she clasped and + unclasped her fingers, looking up at me with soliciting eyes; and her + lips, firmly closed, twitched. + </p> + <p> + “I am looking for the means of explaining to you how much I love her,” I + burst out. “And if I found a way, you could not understand. What do you + know?—what can you know?...” + </p> + <p> + I said this not in scorn, but in sheer helplessness. I was at a loss + before the august magnitude of my feeling, which I saw confronting me like + an enormous presence arising from that blue sea. It was no longer a + boy-and-girl affair; no longer an adventure; it was an immense and serious + happiness, to be paid for by an infinity of sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + “I am a woman,” she said, with a fluttering dignity. “And it is because I + know how women suffer from what men say....” + </p> + <p> + Her face flushed. It flushed to the very bands of her hair. She was rosy + all over the eyes and forehead. Rosy and ascetic, with something outraged + and inexpressibly sweet in her expression. My great emotion was between us + like a mist, through which I beheld strange appearances. It was as if an + immaterial spirit had blushed before me. And suddenly I saw tears—tears + that glittered exceedingly, falling hard and round, like pellets of glass, + out of her faded eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Williams,” I cried, “you can’t know how I love her. No one in the + world can know. When I think of her—and I think of her always—it + seems to me that one life is not enough to show my devotion. I love her + like something unchangeable and unique—altogether out of the world; + because I see the world through her. I would still love her if she had + made me miserable and unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + She exclaimed a low “Ah!” and turned her head away for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “But one cannot express these things,” I continued. “There are no words. + Words are not meant for that. I love her so that, were I to die this + moment, I verily believe my soul, refusing to leave this earth, would + remain hovering near her....” + </p> + <p> + She interrupted me with a sort of indulgent horror. “Sh! sh!” I mustn’t + talk like that. I really must not—and inconsequently she declared + she was quite willing to believe me. Her husband and herself had not slept + a wink for thinking of us. The notion of the fat, sleepy Williams, sitting + up all night to consider, owlishly, the durability of my love, cooled my + excitement. She thought they had been providentially thrown into our way + to give us an opportunity of reconsidering our decision. There were still + so many difficulties in the way. + </p> + <p> + I did not see any; her utter incomprehension began to weary me, while she + still twined her fingers, wiped her eyes by stealth, as it were, and + talked unflinchingly. She could not have made herself clearly understood + by Seraphina. Moreover, women were so helpless—so very helpless in + such matters. That is why she was speaking to me. She did not doubt my + sincerity at the present time—but there was, humanly speaking, a + long life before us—and what of afterwards? Was I sure of myself—later + on—when all was well? + </p> + <p> + I cut her short. Seizing both her hands: + </p> + <p> + “I accept the omen, Mrs. Williams!” I cried. “That’s it! When all is well! + And all must be well in a very short time, with you and your husband’s + help, which shall not fail me, I know. I feel as if the worst of our + troubles were over already....” + </p> + <p> + But at that moment I saw Seraphina coming out on deck. She emerged from + the companion, bare-headed, and looked about at her new surroundings with + that air of imperious and childlike beauty which made her charm. The wind + stirred slightly her delicate hair, and I looked at her; I looked at her + stilled, as one watches the dawn or listens to a sweet strain of music + caught from afar. Suddenly dropping Mrs. Williams’ hand, I ran to her.... + </p> + <p> + When I turned round, Williams had joined his wife, and she had slipped her + arm under his. Her hand, thin and white, looked like the hand of an + invalid on the brawny forearm of that man bursting with health and good + condition. By the side of his lustiness, she was almost ethereal—and + yet I seemed to see in them something they had in common—something + subtle, like the expression of eyes. It <i>was</i> the expression of their + eyes. They looked at us with commiseration; one of them sweetly, the other + with his owlish fixity. As we two, Seraphina and I, approached them + together, I heard Williams’ thick, sleepy voice asking, “And so he says he + won’t?” To which his wife, raising her tone with a shade of indignation, + answered, “Of course not.” No, I was not mistaken. In their dissimilar + persons, eyes, faces, there was expressed a common trouble, doubt, and + commiseration. This expression seemed to go out to meet us sadly, like a + bearer of ill-news. And, as if at the sight of a downcast messenger, I + experienced the clear presentiment of some fatal intelligence. + </p> + <p> + It was conveyed to me late in the afternoon of that ‘same day out of + Williams’ own thick lips, that seemed as heavy and inert as his voice. + </p> + <p> + “As far as we can see,” he said, “you can’t stay in the ship, Kemp. It + would do no one any good—not the slightest good. Ask Sebright here.” + </p> + <p> + It was a sort of council of war, to which we had been summoned in the + saloon. Mrs. Williams had some sewing in her lap. She listened, her hands + motionless, her eyes full of desolation. Seraphina’s attitude, leaning her + cheek on her hand, reminded me of the time when I had seen her absorbed in + watching the green-and-gold lizard in the back room of Ramon’s store, with + her hair falling about her face like a veil. Castro was not called in till + later on. But Sebright was there, leaning his back negligently against the + bulkhead behind Williams, and looking down on us seated on both sides of + the long table. And there was present, too, in all our minds, the image of + the Rio Medio schooner, hull down on our quarter. In all the trials of + sailing, we had not been able to shake her off that day. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to hide from you, Mr. Kemp,” Sebright began, “that it was I + who pointed out to the captain that you would be only getting the ship in + trouble for nothing. She’s an old trader and favourite with shippers; and + if we once get to loggerheads with the powers, there’s an end of her + trading. As to missing Havana this trip, even if you, Mr. Kemp, could give + a pot of money, the captain could never show his nose in there again after + breaking his charter-party to help steal a young lady. And it isn’t as if + she were nobody. She’s the richest heiress in the island. The biggest + people in Spain would have their say in this matter. I suppose they could + put the captain in prison or something. Anyway, good-by to the Havana + business for good. Why, old Perkins would have a fit. He got over one + runaway match.... All right, Mrs. Williams, not another word.... What I + meant to say is that this is nothing else but a love story, and to knock + on the head a valuable old-established connection for it..Don’t bite your + lip, Mr. Kemp. I mean no disrespect to your feelings. Perkins would start + up to break things—let alone his heart. I am sure the captain and + Mrs. Williams think so, too.” + </p> + <p> + The festive and subdued captain of the <i>Lion</i> was staring straight + before him, as if stuffed. Mrs. Williams moved her fingers, compressed her + lips, and looked helplessly at all of us in turn. “Besides altering his + will,” Sebright breathed confidentially at the back of my head. I + perceived that this old Perkins, whom I had never seen, and was never to + see in the body, whose body no one was ever to see any more (he died + suddenly on the echoing staircase, with a flat candlestick in his hand; + was already dead at the time, so that Mrs. Williams was actually sitting + in the cabin of her very own ship)—I perceived that old Perkins was + present at this discussion with all the power of a malignant, bad-tempered + spirit. Those two were afraid of him. They had defied him once, it is true—but + even that had been done out of fear, as it were. + </p> + <p> + Dismayed, I spoke quickly to Seraphina. With her head resting on her hand, + and her eyes following the aimless tracings of her finger on the table, + she said: + </p> + <p> + “It shall be as God wills it, Juan.” + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven’s sake, don’t!” said Sebright, coughing behind me. He + understood Spanish fairly well. “What I’ve said is perfectly true. + Nevertheless the captain was ready to risk it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” ejaculated Williams profoundly, out of almost still lips, and + otherwise so motionless all over that the deep sound seemed to have been + produced by some person under the table. Mrs. Williams’ fingers were + clasped on her lap, and her eyes seemed to beg for belief all round our + faces. + </p> + <p> + “But the point is that it would have been no earthly good for you two,” + continued Sebright. “That’s the point I made. If O’Brien knows anything, + he knows you are on board this ship. He reckons on it as a dead certainty. + Now, it is very evident that we could refuse to give <i>you</i> up, Mr. + Kemp, and that the admiral (if the flagship’s off Havana, as I think she + must be by now) would have to back us up. How you would get on afterwards + with old Groggy Rowley, I don’t know. It isn’t likely he has forgotten you + tried to wipe the floor with him, if I am to take the captain’s yarn as + correct.” + </p> + <p> + “A regular hero,” Williams testified suddenly, in his concealed, + from-under-the-table tone. “He’s not afraid of any of them; not he. Ha! + ha! Old Topnambo must have....” He glanced at his wife, and bit his tongue—perhaps + at the recollection of his unsafe conjugal position—ending in + disjointed words, “In his chaise—warrant—separationist—rebel,” + and all this without moving a limb or a muscle of his face, till, with a + low, throaty chuckle, he fluttered a stony sort of wink to my address. + </p> + <p> + Sebright had paused only long enough for this ebullition to be over. The + cool logic of his surmise appalled me. He didn’t see why O’Brien or + anybody in Havana should want to interfere with me personally. But if I + wanted to keep my young lady, it was obvious she must not arrive in Havana + on board a ship where they would be sure to look for her the very first + thing. It was even worse than it looked, he declared. His firm conviction + was that if the <i>Lion</i> did not turn up in Havana pretty soon, there + would be a Spanish man-of-war sent out to look for her—or else Mr. + O’Brien was not the man we took him for. There was lying in harbour a + corvette called the <i>Tornado</i>, a very likely looking craft. I didn’t + expect them to fight a corvette. No doubt there would be a fuss made about + stopping a British ship on the high seas; but that would be a cold comfort + after the lady had been taken away from me. She was a person of so much + importance that even our own admiral could be induced—say, by the + Captain-General’s remonstrances—to sanction such an action. There + was no saying what Rowley would do if they only promised to present him + with half a dozen pirates to take home for a hanging. Why! that was the + very identical thing the flagship was kept dodging off Havana for! And + O’Brien knew where to lay his hands on a gross of such birds, for that + matter. + </p> + <p> + “No,” concluded Sebright, overwhelming me from behind, as I sat looking, + not at the uncertainties of the future, but at the paralyzing hopelessness + of the bare to-morrow. “The <i>Lion</i> is no place for you, whether she + goes into Havana or not. Moreover, into Havana she must go now. There’s no + help for it. It’s the deuce of a situation.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” I gasped. I tried to be resolute. I felt, suddenly, as if all + the air in the cabin had gone up the open skylight. I couldn’t remain + below another moment; and, muttering something about coming back directly, + I jumped up and ran out without looking at any one lest I should give + myself away. I ran out on deck for air, but the great blue emptiness of + the open staggered me like a blow over the heart. I walked slowly to the + side, and, planting both my elbows on the rail, stared abroad defiantly + and without a single clear thought in my head. I had a vague feeling that + the descent of the sun towards the waters, going on before my eyes with + changes of light and cloud, was like some gorgeous and empty ceremonial of + immersion belonging to a vast barren faith remote from consolation and + hope. And I noticed, also, small things without importance—the + hirsute aspect of a sailor; the end of a rope trailing overboard; and + Castro, so different from everybody else on board that his appearance + seemed to create a profound solitude round him, lounging before the cabin + door as if engaged in a deep conspiracy all by himself. I heard voices + talking loudly behind me, too. + </p> + <p> + I noted them distinctly, but with perfect indifference. A long time after, + with the same indifference, I looked over my shoulder. Castro had vanished + from the quarter-deck. And I turned my face to the sea again as a man, + feeling himself beaten in a fight with death, might turn his face to the + wall. + </p> + <p> + I had fought a harder battle with a more cruel foe than death, with the + doubt of myself; an endless contest, in which there is no peace of victory + or of defeat. The open sea was like a blank and unscalable wall + imprisoning the eternal question of conduct. Right or wrong? Generosity or + folly? Conscience or only weak fear before remorse? The magnificent ritual + of sunset went on palpitating with an inaudible rhythm, with slow and + unerring observance, went on to the end, leaving its funeral fires on the + sky and a great shadow upon the sea. Twice I had honourably stayed my + hand. Twice... to this end. + </p> + <p> + In a moment, I went through all the agonies of suicide, which left me + alive, alas, to burn with the shame of the treasonable thought, and + terrified by the revolt of my soul refusing to leave the world in which a + young girl lived! The vast twilight seemed to take the impress of her + image like wax. What did Seraphina think of me? I knew nothing of her but + her features, and it was enough. Strange, this power of a woman’s face + upon a man’s heart—this mastery, potent as witchcraft and mysterious + like a miracle. I should have to go and tell her. I did not suppose she + could have understood all of Sebright’s argumentation. Therefore, it was + for me to explain to what a pretty pass I had brought our love. + </p> + <p> + I was so greatly disinclined to stir that I let Sebright’s voice go on + calling my name half a dozen times from the cabin door. At last I faced + about. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Kemp! I say, Kemp! Aren’t you coming in yet?” + </p> + <p> + “To say good-by,” I said, approaching him. + </p> + <p> + It had fallen dark already. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by? No. The carpenter must have a day at least.” + </p> + <p> + Carpenter! What had a carpenter to do in this? However, nothing mattered—as + though I had managed to spoil the whole scheme of creation. + </p> + <p> + “You didn’t think of making a start to-night, did you?” Sebright wondered. + “Where would be the sense of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Sense,” I answered contemptuously. “There is no sense in anything. There + is necessity. Necessity.” + </p> + <p> + He remained silent for a time, peering at me. + </p> + <p> + “Necessity, to be sure,” he said slowly. “And I don’t see why you should + be angry at it.” + </p> + <p> + I was thinking that it was easy enough for him to keep cool—the + necessity being mine. He continued to philosophize with what seemed to me + a shocking freedom of mind. + </p> + <p> + “Must try to put some sense into it. That’s what we are here for, I guess. + Anyhow, there’s some room for sense in arranging the way a thing is to be + done, be it as hard as it may. And I don’t see any sense, either, in + exposing a woman to more hardship than is absolutely necessary. We have + talked it out now, and I can do no more. Do go inside for a bit. Mrs. + Williams is worrying the Señorita, rather, I’m afraid.” + </p> + <p> + I paused a moment to try and regain the command of my faculties. But it + was as if a bombshell had exploded inside my skull, scattering all my wits + to the four winds of heaven. Only the conviction of failure remained, + attended by a profound distress. + </p> + <p> + I fancy, though, I presented a fairly bold front. The lamp was lit, and + small changes had occurred during my absence. Williams had turned his bulk + sideways to the table. Mrs. Williams had risen from her place, and was now + sitting upright close to Seraphina, holding one little hand inclosed + caressingly between her frail palms, as if she had there something alive + that needed cherishing. And in that position she looked up at me with a + strange air of worn-out youth, cast by a rosy flush over her forehead and + face. Seraphina still leaned her head on her other hand, and I noted, + through the soft shadow of falling hair, the heightened colour on her + cheek and the augmented brilliance of her eye. + </p> + <p> + “‘How I wish she had been an English girl,” Mrs. Williams sighed + regretfully, and leaned forward to look into Seraphina’s half-averted + face. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, did you quite, quite understand what I have been saying to you?” + </p> + <p> + She waited. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Si Señora</i>,” said Seraphina. None of us moved. Then, after a time, + turning to me with sudden animation, “This woman asked me if I believed in + your love,” she cried. “She is old. Oh, Juan, can the years change the + heart? your heart?” Her voice dropped. “How am I to know that?” she went + on piteously. “I am young—and we may not live so long. I believe in + mine....” + </p> + <p> + The corners of her delicate lips drooped; but she mastered her desire to + cry, and steadied her voice which, always rich and full of womanly charm, + took on, when she was deeply moved, an imposing gravity of timbre. + </p> + <p> + “But I am a Spaniard, and I believe in my lover’s honour; in your—your + English honour, Juan.” + </p> + <p> + With the dignity of a supreme confidence she extended her hand. It was one + of the culminating moments of our love. For love is like a journey in + mountainous country, up through the clouds, and down into the shadows to + an unknown destination. It was a moment rapt and full of feeling, in which + we seemed to dwell together high up and alone—till she withdrew her + hand from my lips, and I found myself back in the cabin, as if + precipitated from a lofty place. + </p> + <p> + Nobody was looking at us. Mrs. Williams sat with downcast eyelids, with + her hands reposing on her lap: her husband gazed discreetly at a gold + moulding on the deck-beam; and the upward cast of his eyes invested his + red face with an air of singularly imbecile ecstasy. And there was Castro, + too, whom I had not seen till then, though I must have brushed against him + on entering. He had stood by the door a mute, and, as it were, a + voluntarily unmasked conspirator with the black round of the hat lying in + front of his feet. He, alone, looked at us. He looked from Seraphina to me—from + me to Seraphina. He looked unutterable things, rolling his crow-footed + eyes in pious horror and glowering in turns. When Seraphina addressed him, + he hastened to incline his head with his usual deference for the daughter + of the Riegos. + </p> + <p> + She said, “There are things that concern this <i>caballero</i>, and that + you can never understand. Your fidelity is proved. It has sunk deep + here.... It shall give you a contented old age—on the word of + Seraphina Riego.” + </p> + <p> + He looked down at his feet with gloomy submission. + </p> + <p> + “There is a proverb about an enamoured woman,” he muttered to himself, + loud enough for me to overhear. Then, stooping deliberately to pick up his + hat, he flourished it with a great sweep lower than his knees. His dumpy + black back flitted out of the cabin; and almost directly we heard the + sharp click of his flint and blade outside the door. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER SIX + </h3> + <p> + How often the activity of our life is the least real part of it! Life, + looked upon as a whole, presents itself to my fancy as a pursuit with open + arms of a winged and magnificent dream, hovering just over our heads and + casting its glory upon our hopes. It is in this simple vision, which is + one and enduring, and not in the changing facts, that we must look for + meaning and for truth. The three quiet days we spent together on board the + <i>Lion</i> remain to me memorable and full of import, eventless and + containing the very quintessence of existence. We shared the sunshine, + always together, very close, turning hand in hand to the sea, whose + unstained blueness continued under our feet the blue above our heads, as + though we had been snatched up into the sky. The insignificant words we + exchanged seemed informed by a sustaining certitude and an admirable + gravity, as though there had been some quality of unerring wisdom in the + blind love of man and woman. From the inexhaustible treasure of her + feelings she drew words, glances, gestures that appeased every uneasiness + of my heart. In some brief moment of illumination whose advent my man’s + eyes had utterly missed, she had learned all at once everything there was + to know. She knew. She no longer needed to survey my actions, my words, my + thoughts; but she accorded me the sincere flattery of spell-bound + attention, and it was made intoxicating by her smile. In those short days + of a pause, when, like a swimmer turning on his back, we lived in the + trustful confidence of the sustaining depths, instead of struggling with + the agitation of the surface—in these days we had the time to look + at each other profoundly; and I saw her smile come back again a little + changed, more meaning and a little less mirthful, as if her lips had been + made stiff by sorrow. But she was young; and youth, the time of softness, + of tenderness, of enthusiasm, and of pity, presents a surface as hard as + marble to the finality of death. + </p> + <p> + Breathing side by side, drinking in the sunshine, and talking of ourselves + not at all, but casting the sense of our love like a magnificent garment + over the wide significance of a world already conquered, we could not help + being made aware of the currents of excitement and sympathy that converged + upon our essential isolation from the life of the ship. It was the + excitement of the adventure brewing for our drinking according to + Sebright’s recipe. People approached us—spoke to us. We attended to + them as if called down from an elevation; we were aware of the kind tone; + and, remaining indistinct, they retreated, leaving us free to regain the + heights of the lovers’ paradise—a region of tender whispers and + intense silences. Suddenly there would be a short, throaty laugh behind + our backs, and Williams would begin, “I say, Kemp; do you call to mind + so-and-so?” Invariably some planter or merchant in Jamaica. I never could. + </p> + <p> + Williams would grunt, “No? I wonder how you passed your time away these + two years or more. The place isn’t that big.” His purpose was to cheer me + up by some gossip, if only he could find a common acquaintance to talk + over. I believe he thought me a queer fish. He told me once that everybody + he knew in Jamaica had that precise opinion of me. Then with à chuckle and + muttering, “Warrants—assault—Top—nambo—ha, ha!” he + would leave us to ourselves, and continue his waddle up and down the poop. + He wore loose silk trousers, and the round legs inside moved like a + contrivance made out of two gate-posts. + </p> + <p> + He was absurd. They all were that before our sweet reasonableness. But + this atmosphere, full of interest and good will, was good to breathe. The + very steward—the same who had been hiding in the lazarette during + the fight—a hunted creature, displaying the most insignificant + anatomy ever inhabited by a quailing spirit, devoted himself to the + manufacture of strange cakes, which at tea-time he would deposit smoking + hot in front of Seraphina’s place. After each such exploit, he appeared + amazed at his audacity in taking so much upon himself. The carpenter took + more than a day, tinkering at an old ship’s boat. He was a Shetlander—a + sort of shaggy hyperborean giant with a forbidding face, an appraising, + contemplative manner, and many nails in his mouth. At last the time came + when he, too, approached our oblivion from behind, with a large hammer in + his hand; but instead of braining us with one sweep of his mighty arm, he + remarked simply in uncouth accents, “There now; I am thinking she will do + well for what ye want her. I can do no more for ye.” + </p> + <p> + We turned round, arm-in-arm, to look at the boat. There she was, lying + careened on the deck, with patched sides, in a belt of chips, shavings, + and sawdust; a few pensive sailors stood about, gazing down at her with + serious eyes. Sebright, bent double, circled slowly on a prowl of minute + inspection. Suddenly straightening himself up, he pronounced a curt + “She’ll do”; and, without looking at us at all, went off busily with his + rapid stride. + </p> + <p> + A light sigh floated down upon our heads. Williams and his wife appeared + on the poop above us like an allegorical couple of repletion and + starvation, conceived in a fantastic vein on a balcony. A cigar smouldered + in his stumpy red fingers. She had slipped a hand under his arm, as she + would always do the moment they came near each other. She never looked + more wasted and old-maidish than when thus affirming her wifely rights. + But her eyes were motherly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dears!” (She usually addressed Seraphina as “miss,” and myself as + “young sir.”) “Ah, my dears! It seems so heartless to be sending you off + in such a small boat, even for your own good.” + </p> + <p> + “Never fear, Mary. Repaired. Carry six comfortably,” reassured Williams in + a tremendous mutter, like a bull. + </p> + <p> + “But why can’t you give them one of the others, Owen? That big one there?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Mary. Never see boat again. Wouldn’t grudge it. Only Sebright + is quite right. Didn’t you hear what Sebright said? Very sensible. Ask + Sebright. He will explain to you again.” + </p> + <p> + It was Sebright, with his asperity and his tact, with fits of brusqueness + subdued by an almost affectionate contempt, who conducted all their + affairs, as I have seen a trustworthy and experienced old nurse rule the + infinite perplexities of a room full of children. His clear-sightedness + and mental grip seemed independent of age and experience, like the ability + of genius. He had an imaginative eye for detail, and, starting from a mere + hint, would go scheming onwards with astonishing precision. His plan, to + which we were committed—committed helplessly and without resistance—was + based upon the necessity of our leaving the ship. + </p> + <p> + He had developed it to me that evening, in the cabin, directly Castro had + gone out. He had already got Williams and his wife to share his view of + our situation. He began by laying it down that in every desperate position + there was a loophole for escape. Like other great men, he was conscious of + his ability, and was inclined to theorize at large for a while. You had to + accept the situation, go with it in a measure, and as you had walked into + trouble with your eyes shut, you had only to continue with your eyes open. + Time was the only thing that could defeat one. If you had no time, he + admitted, you were at a dead wall. In this case he judged there would be + time, because O’Brien, warned already, would sit tight for a few days, + being sure to get hold of us directly the <i>Lion</i> came into port. It + was only if the <i>Lion</i> failed to turn up within a reasonable term in + Havana, that he would take fright, and take measures to hunt her up at + sea. But I might rest assured that the <i>Lion</i> was going to Havana as + fast as the winds would allow her. + </p> + <p> + What was, then, the situation? he continued, looking at me piercingly + above Williams’ cropped head. I had run away for dear life from Cuba + (taking with me what was best in it, to be sure, he interjected, with a + faint smile towards Seraphina). I had no money, no friends (except my + friends in this cabin, he was good enough to say); warrants out against me + in Jamaica; no means to get to England; no safety in the ship. It was no + use shirking that little fact. We must leave the <i>Lion</i>. This was a + hopeless enough position. But it was hopeless only because it was not + looked upon in the right way. We assumed that we had to leave her forever, + while the whole secret of the trick was in this, that we need only leave + her for a time. After O’Brien’s myrmidons had gone through her, and had + been hooted away empty-handed, she became again, if not absolutely safe, + then at least possible—the only possible refuge for us—the + only decent means of reaching England together, where, he understood, our + trouble would cease. Williams nodded approval heavily. + </p> + <p> + “The friends of Miss Riego would be glad to know she had made the passage + under the care of a respectable married lady,” Sebright explained, in that + imperturbable manner of his, which reflected faintly all his inner moods—whether + of recklessness, of jocularity or anxiety—and often his underlying + scorn. His gravity grew perfectly portentous. “Mrs. Williams,” he + continued, “was, of course, very anxious to do her part creditably. As it + happened, the <i>Lion</i> was chartered for London this voyage; and + notwithstanding her natural desire to rejoin, as soon as possible, her + home and her aged uncle in Bristol, she intended to go with the young lady + in a hackney coach to the very door.” + </p> + <p> + I had previously told them that the lately appointed Spanish ambassador in + London was a relation of the Riegos, and personally acquainted with + Seraphina, who, nearly two years before, had been on a short visit to + Spain, and had lived for some months with his family <i>in</i> Madrid, I + believe. No trouble or difficulty was to be apprehended as to proper + recognition, or in the mattei of rights and inheritance, and so on. The + ambassador would make that his own affair. And for the rest I trusted the + decision of her character and the strength of her affection. I was not + afraid she would let any one talk her out of an engagement, the dying wish + of her nearest kinsman, sealed, as it were, with the blood of her father. + This matter of temporary absence from the <i>Lion</i>, however, seemed to + present an insuperable difficulty. We could not, obviously, be left for + days floating in an open boat outside Havana harbour, waiting till the + ship came out to pick us up. Sebright himself admitted that at first he + did not see how it could be contrived. He didn’t see at all. He thought + and thought. It was enough to sicken one of every sort of thinking. Then, + suddenly, the few words Castro had let drop about the sugar estate and the + relay of mules came into his head—providentially, as Mrs. Williams + would say. He fancied that the primitive and grandiose manner for a + gentleman to keep a relay of mules—any amount of mules—in case + he should want to send a letter or two, caused the circumstance to stick + in his mind. At once he had “our little <i>hidalgo</i>” in, and put him + through an examination. + </p> + <p> + “He turned fairly sulky, and tried constantly to break out against you, + till Dona Seraphina here gave him a good talking to,” Sebright said. + </p> + <p> + Otherwise it was most satisfactory. The place was accessible from the sea + through a narrow inlet, opening into a small, perfectly sheltered basin at + the back of the sand-dunes. The little river watering the estate emptied + itself into that basin. One could land from a boat there, he understood, + as if in a dock—and it was the very devil if I and Miss Riego could + not lie hidden for a few days on her own property, the more so that, as it + came out in the course of the discussion, while I had “rushed out to look + at the sunset,” that the manager, or whatever they called him—the + fellow in charge—was the husband of Dona Seraphina’s old + nurse-woman. Of course, it behoved us to make as little fuss as possible—try + to reach the house along by-paths early in the morning, when all the + slaves would be out at work in the fields. Castro, who professed to know + the locality very well indeed, would be of use. Meantime, the <i>Lion</i> + would make her way to Havana, as if nothing was the matter. No doubt all + sorts of confounded <i>alguazils</i> and custom-house hounds would be + ready to swarm on board in full cry. They would be made very welcome. Any + strangers on board? Certainly not. Why should there be?... Rio Medio? What + about Rio Medio? Hadn’t been within miles and miles of Rio Medio; tried + this trip to beat up well clear of the coast. Search the ship? With + pleasure—every nook and cranny. He didn’t suppose they would have + the cheek to talk of the pirates; but if they did venture—what then? + Pirates? That’s very serious and dishonourable to the power of Spain. + Personally, had seen nothing of pirates. Thought they had all been + captured and hanged quite lately. Rumours of the <i>Lion</i> having been + attacked obviously untrue. Some other ship, perhaps.... That was the line + to take. If it didn’t convince them, it would puzzle them altogether. Of + course, Captain Williams, in his great regard for me, had abandoned the + intention of making an affair of state of the outrage committed on his + ship. He would not lodge any complaint in Havana—nothing at all. The + old women of the Admiralty wouldn’t be made to sit up this time. No report + would be sent to the admiral either. Only, if the ship were interfered + with, and bothered under any pretence whatever, once they had been given + every facility to have one good look everywhere, the admiral would be + asked to stop it. And the Spanish authorities would have not a leg to + stand on either, for this simple reason, that they could not very well own + to the sources of their information. Meantime, all hands on board the <i>Lion</i> + had to be taken into confidence; that could not be avoided. He, Sebright, + answered for their discretion while sober, anyhow; and he promised me that + no leave or money would be given in Havana, for fear they should get on a + spree, and let out something in the grogshops on shore. We all knew what a + sailor-man was after a glass or two. So that was settled. Now, as to our + rejoining the <i>Lion</i>. This, of necessity, must be left to me. + Counting from the time we parted from her to land on the coast, the <i>Lion</i> + would remain in Havana sixteen days; and if we did not turn up in that + time, and the cargo was all on board by then, Captain Williams would try + to remain in harbour on one pretence or another a few days longer. But + sixteen days should be ample, and it was even better not to hurry up too + much. To arrive on the fifteenth day would be the safest proceeding in a + way, but for the cutting of the thing too fine, perhaps. With all these + mules at our disposal, Sebright didn’t see why we should not make our way + by land, pass through the town at night, or in the earliest morning, and + go straight on board the <i>Lion</i>—perhaps use some sort of + disguise. He couldn’t say. He was out of it there. Blackened faces or + something. Anyway, we would be looked out for on board night and day. + </p> + <p> + Later on, however, we had learned from Castro that the estate possessed a + sailing craft of about twenty tons, which made frequent trips to Havana. + These sugar <i>droghers</i> belonging to the plantations (every estate on + the coast had one or more) went in and out of the harbour without being + taken much notice of. Sometimes the battery at the water’s edge on the + north side or a custom-house guard would hail them, but not often—and + even then only to ask the name, where from, and for the number of + sugar-hogsheads on board. “By heavens! That’s the very thing!” rejoiced + Sebright. And it was agreed that this would be our best way. We should + time our arrival for early morning, or else at dusk. The craft that + brought us in should be made, by a piece of unskillful management, to fall + aboard the <i>Lion</i>, and remain alongside long enough to give us time + to sneak in through an open deck-port. + </p> + <p> + The whole occurrence must be so contrived as to wear the appearance of a + pure accident to the onlookers, should there be any. Shouting and an + exchange of abuse on both parts should sound very true. Then the <i>drogher</i>, + getting herself clear, would proceed innocently to the custom-house steps, + where all such coasters had to report themselves on arrival. “Never fear. + We shall put in some loud and scandalous cursing,” Sebright assured me. + “The boys will greatly enjoy that part, I dare say.” + </p> + <p> + Remained to consider the purpose of the schooner that had come out of Rio + Medio to hang on our skirts. It was doubtful whether it was in our power + to shake her off. Sebright was full of admiration for her sailing + qualities, coupled with infinite contempt for the “lubberly gang on + board.” + </p> + <p> + “If I had the handling of her, now,” he said, “I would take my position as + near as I liked, and stick there. It seems almost as if she would do it of + herself, if those imbeciles would only let her have her own way. I never + yet saw a Spaniard, good or bad, that was anything of a sailor. As it is, + we may maintain a distance that would make it difficult for them to see + what we are about. And if not, then—why, you must take your leave of + us at night.” + </p> + <p> + He didn’t know that, but for the dismalness of such a departure, it were + not just as well. Who could tell what eyes might be watching on shore? + </p> + <p> + “You know I never pretended my plan was quite safe. But have you got + another?” + </p> + <p> + I made no answer, because I had no other, and could not think of one. + Incredible as it may appear, not only my heart, but my mind, also, in the + awakened comprehension of my love, refused to grapple with difficulties. + My thoughts raced ahead of ships and pursuing men, into a dream of + cloudless felicity without end. And I don’t think Sebright expected any + suggestion from me. This took place during one of our busy talks—only + he and I—alone in his cabin. He had been washing his hands, making + ready for tea. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” he said, turning full on me, and wiping his fingers + carefully with a coarse towel—“do you know, I shouldn’t wonder if + that schooner were not keeping watch on us, in suspicion of just some such + move on our part. ’Tis extraordinary how clever the greatest fool may show + himself sometimes. Only, with their lubberly Spanish seamanship, they + would expect us, probably, to make a whole ceremony of your landing: ship + hove to for hours close in shore, a boat going off to land and returning, + and all such pother. ‘We are sure to see their little show,’ they think to + themselves. Eh? What? Whereas we shall keep well clear of the land when + the time comes, and drop you in the dark without as much check on our way + as there is in the wink of an eye. Hey?... Mind, Mr. Kemp, you take the + boat out of sight up that little river, in case they should have a fancy, + as they go along after us, to peep into that inlet. As I have said it + wouldn’t do to trust too much in any fool’s folly.” + </p> + <p> + And now the time was approaching; the time to awake and step forth out of + the temple of sunshine and love—of whispers and silences. It had + come. The night before both Williams and Sebright had been on deck, + working the ship with an anxious care to take the utmost advantage of + every favouring flaw in the contrary breeze. In the morning I was told + there was a norther brewing. A norther is a tempestuous gale. I saw no + signs of it. The realm of the sun, like the vanished one of the stars, + appeared to my senses to be profoundly asleep, and breathing as gently as + a child upon the ship. The <i>Lion</i>, too, seemed to lie wrapped in an + enchanted slumber from the water-line to the tops of her upright masts. + And yet she moved with the breath of the world, but so imperceptibly that + it was the coast that seemed to be nearing her like a line of low vapour + blown along the water. Between Williams and Sebright Castro pointed with + his one arm, and a splutter of guttural syllables fell like hail out of + his lips. The other two seemed incredulous. He stamped with both his feet + angrily. Finally they went below together, to look at the chart, I + suppose. They came up again very fast, one after another, and stood in a + row, looking on as before. Three more dissimilar human beings it would + have been difficult to imagine. + </p> + <p> + Dazzling white patches, about the size of a man’s hand, came out between + sky and water. They grew in width, and ran together with a hummocky + outline into a continuous undulation of sand-dunes. Here and there this + rampart had a gap like a breach made by guns. Mrs. Williams, behind me, + blew her nose faintly; her eyes were red, but she did not look at us. No + eye was turned our way, and the spell of the coast was on her, too. A low, + dark headland broke out to view through the dunes, and stood there + conspicuous amongst the heaps of dazzling sand, like a small man frowning. + A voice on deck pronounced: + </p> + <p> + “That’s right. Here’s his landmark. The fellow knew very well what he was + talking about.” + </p> + <p> + It was Sebright’s voice, and Castro, strolling away triumphantly, affected + to turn his back on the land. He had recognized the formation of the coast + about the inlet long before anybody else could distinguish the details. + His word had been doubted. He was offended, and passed us by, wrapping + himself up closely. One of Seraphina’s locks blew against my cheek, and + this last effort of the breeze remained snared in the silken meshes of her + hair. + </p> + <p> + “There’s not enough wind to fill the sail of a toy boat,” grumbled + Sebright; “and you can’t pull this heavy gig ashore with only that + one-armed man at the other oar.” He was sorry he could not send us off + with four good rowers. The norther might be coming on before they could + return to the ship, and—apart from the presence of four English + sailors on the coast being sure to get talked about—there was the + difficulty in getting them back on board in Havana. We could, no doubt, + smuggle ourselves in; but six people would make too much of a show. On the + other hand, the absence of four men out of the ship’s company could not be + accounted for very well to the authorities. “We can’t say they all died, + and we threw them overboard. It would be too startling. No; you must go + alone, and leave us at the first breath of wind; and that, I fear, ’ll be + the first of the norther, too.” + </p> + <p> + He threw his head back, and hailed, “Do you see anything of that schooner + from aloft there?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of her, sir,” answered a man perched, with dangling feet, astride + the very end of the topsail yard-arm. He paused, scanned the space from + under the flat of his hand, and added, shouting with deliberation, + “There’s—a—haze—to seaward, sir.” The ship, with her + decks sprinkled over with men in twos and threes, sent up to his ears a + murmur of satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + If we could not see her, she could not see us. This was a favourable + circumstance. To the infinite gratification of everyone on board, it had + been discovered at daylight that the schooner had lost touch with us + during the hours of darkness—either through unskillful handling, or + from some accidental disadvantage of the variable wind. I had been + informed of it, directly I showed myself on deck in the morning, by + several men who had radiant grins, as if some great piece of luck had + befallen them, one and all. They shared their unflagging attention between + the land and the sea-horizon, pointing out to each other, with their + tattooed arms, the features of the coast, nodding knowingly towards the + open. At midday most of them brought out their dinners on deck, and could + be seen forward, each with a tin plate in the left hand, gesticulating + amicably with clasp knives. A small white handkerchief hung from Mrs. + Williams’ fingers, and now and then she touched her eyes lightly, one + after the other. Her husband and Sebright, with a grave mien, stamped + busily around the binnacle aft, changing places, making way for each + other, stooping in turns to glance carefully along the compass card at the + low bluff, like two gunners laying a piece of heavy ordnance for an + important shot. The steward, emerging out of the companion, rang a + handbell violently, and remained scared at the failure of that appeal. + After waiting for a moment, he produced a further feeble tinkle, and sank + down out of sight, with resignation. + </p> + <p> + A white sun, as if blazing with the pallor of fury, swung past the zenith + in a profound and universal stillness. There was not a wrinkle on the sea; + it presented a lustrous and glittering level, like the polished facet of a + gem. In the cabin we sat down to the meal, not even pretending a desire to + eat, exchanging vague phrases, hanging our heads over the empty plates. + But the regular footsteps of the boatswain left in charge hesitated, + stopped near the skylight. He said in an imperfectly assured voice, “Seems + as if there was a steadier draught coming now.” At this we rose from the + table impetuously, as though he had shouted an alarm of fire, and Mrs. + Williams, with a little cry, ran round to Seraphina. Leaving the two women + locked in a silent embrace, the captain, Sebright and myself hurried out + on deck. + </p> + <p> + Every man in the ship had done the same. Even the shiny black cook had + come out of his galley, and was already comfortably seated on the rail, + baring his white teeth to the sunshine. + </p> + <p> + “Just about enough to blow out a farthing dip,” said Sebright, in a + disappointed mutter. + </p> + <p> + He thought, however, we had better not wait for more. There would be too + much presently. Some sailors hauled the boat alongside, the rest lined the + rail as for a naval spectacle, and Williams stared blankly. We were + waiting for Seraphina, who appeared, attended by Mrs. Williams, looking + more kind, bloodless, and ascetic than ever. But my girl’s cheeks glowed; + her eyes sparkled audaciously. She had done up her hair in some way that + made it fit her head like a cap. It became her exceedingly, and the + decision of her movements, the white serenity of her brow, dazzled me as + if I had never seen her before. She seemed less childlike, older, ripe for + this adventure in a new development of strength and courage. She inclined + her head slowly at the gaping sailors, who had taken their caps off. + </p> + <p> + As soon as she appeared, Castro, who had been leaning against the bulwark, + started up, and with a muttered “<i>Adios, Señores</i>,” went down the + overside ladder and ensconced himself in the bow of the boat. The + leave-taking was hurried over. Williams gave no sign of feeling, except, + perhaps, for the greater intensity of his stare, which passed beyond our + shoulders in the very act of handshaking. Sebright helped Seraphina down + into the boat, and ran up again nimbly. Mrs. Williams, with her slim hand + held in both mine, uttered a few incoherent words—about men’s + promises and the happiness of women, as I thought; but, truth to say, my + own suppressed excitement was too considerable for close attention. I only + knew that I had given her my confidence, that complete and utter + confidence which neither wisdom nor power alone, can command. And, + suddenly, it occurred to me that the heiress of a splendid name and + fortune, down in the boat there, had no better friend in the world than + this woman, who had come to us out of the waste of the sea, opening her + simple heart to our need, like a pious and naive hermit in a wilderness + throwing open the door of his cell to strange wayfarers. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Williams,” I stammered. “If we—if I—there’s no saying + what may happen to any of us. If she ever comes to you—if she ever + is in want of help....” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. Always, always—like my own daughter.” + </p> + <p> + And the good woman broke down, as if, indeed, I were taking her own + daughter away. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Mary!” Williams advanced, muttering tremendously. “They are not + going round the world. Dare say get ashore in time for supper.” + </p> + <p> + He stared through her without expression, as if she had been thin air, but + she seized his arm, of course, and he gave me, then, an amazingly rapid + wink which, I suppose, meant that I should go.... + </p> + <p> + “All right there?” asked Sebright from above, as soon as I had taken my + seat in the stern sheets by the side of Seraphina. He was standing on the + poop deck ready with a sign for letting go the end of our painter on deck; + but before I could answer in the affirmative, Castro, ensconced forward + under his hat, drew his ready blade across the rope, as it were a throat. + </p> + <p> + At once a narrow strip of water opened between the boat and the ship, and + our long-prepared departure, hastened thus by half a second, seemed to + strike everybody dumb with surprise, as if we had taken wings to ourselves + to fly away. Hastily I grasped the tiller to give the boat a sheer, and + heard a sort of loud gasp in the air above. A row of heads, posed on chins + all along the rail, stared after us with unanimous fixity. Mrs. Williams + averted her face on her husband’s shoulder. Behind the couple, Sebright + raised his cap gravely. + </p> + <p> + Our little sail filled to a breeze which was much too feeble to produce a + perceptible effect on the ship, and we left behind us her towering form, + as one recedes from a tall white spire on a plain. I laid the boat’s head + straight for the dwarf headland, marking the mouth of the inlet on the + interminable range of sand-dunes. We drove on with a smart ripple, but + before we felt sufficiently settled to exchange a few words the animated + sound languished suddenly, paused altogether, and, with a renewed murmur + under our feet seemed to lose itself below the glassy waters. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER SEVEN + </h3> + <p> + The calm had returned. The sea, changing from the warm glitter of a gem, + and attuned to the grays and blacks of space, resembled a monstrous cinder + under a sky of ashes. + </p> + <p> + The sun had disappeared, smothered in these clouds that had formed + themselves all at once and everywhere, like some swift corruption of the + upper air. For the best part of the afternoon the ship and the boat + remained lying at right angles, within half a mile of each other. What + light was left in the world, cut off from the source of life, seemed to + sicken with a strange decay. The long stretch of sands and the sails of + the motionless vessel stood out lividly pale in universal gloom. And yet + the state of the atmosphere was such that we could see clear-cut the very + folds in the steep face of the dunes, and the figures of the people moving + on the poop of the <i>Lion</i>. There was always somebody there that had + the aspect of watching us. Then, with some excitement, we saw them on + board haul up the mainsail and lower the gig. + </p> + <p> + The four oars beat the sombre water, rising and falling apparently in the + same place. She was an interminable time coming on, but as she neared us I + was surprised at her dashing speed. Sebright, who steered, laid her + alongside smartly, and two of his men, clambering over without a word, + lowered our lug at once. + </p> + <p> + “We came to reef your sail for you. You couldn’t manage that very well + with a one-armed crew,” said the young mate quietly in the enormous + stillness. In his opinion, we couldn’t expect now any wind till the first + squall came down. This flurry, as he called it, would send us in smoking, + and he was sure it would help the ship, as well, into Havana, in about + twenty-four hours. He didn’t think that it would come <i>very</i> heavy at + first; and, once landed, we need not care how hard it blew. + </p> + <p> + He tendered me over the gunwale a pocket-flask covered with leather, and + with a screwed silver stopper in the shape of a cup. It was from the + captain; full of prime rum. We were pretty sure to get wet. He thrust, + also, into my hands a gray woollen shawl. Mrs. Williams thought my young + lady might be glad of it at night. “The dear old woman has shut herself up + inside their stateroom, and is praying for you now,” he concluded. “Look + alive, boys.” + </p> + <p> + His men did not answer him, but at some words he addressed to Castro, the + latter, in the bows and looking at the coast, growled with a surly + impatience. He was perfectly sure of the entrance. Had been in and out + several times. Yes. At night, too. Sebright then turned to me. After all, + it was not so difficult. The inlet bore due south from us, and the wind + would come true from the north. Always did in these bursts. I had only to + keep dead before it. “The clouds will light you in at the last,” he added + meaningly, glancing upwards. + </p> + <p> + The two sailors, having finished reefing, hoisted, lowered, and hoisted + again the yard to see that the gear ran clear, and without one look at us, + stepped back into the gig, and sat down in their places. For a moment + longer we lay together, touching sides. Sebright extended his hand from + boat to boat. + </p> + <p> + “You are in God’s care now, Kemp,” he said, looking up at me, and with an + unexpected depth of feeling in his tone. “Take no turn with the sheet on + any account, and if you feel it coming too heavy, let fly and chance it. + Did I tell you we have sighted the schooner from aloft? No? We can just + make her out from the main-yard away astern under the land. That don’t + matter now.... Señorita, I kiss your hands.” He liked to air his + Spanish.... “Keep cool whatever happens. Dead before it—mind. And + count on sixteen days from to-morrow. Well. No more. Give way, boys.” + </p> + <p> + He never looked back. We watched the boat being hoisted and secured. + Shortly afterwards, as we were observing the Lion shortening sail, the + first of the rain descended between her and us like a lowered veil. For a + time she remained mistily visible, dark and gaunt with her bared spars. + The downpour redoubled; she disappeared; and our hearts were stirred to a + faster beat. + </p> + <p> + The shower fell on us, around us, descending perpendicularly, with a + steady force; and the thunder rolled far off, as if coming from under the + sea. Sometimes the muffled rumbling stopped, and let us hear plainly the + gentle hiss and the patter of the drops falling upon a vast expanse. + Suddenly, mingled with a loud detonation right over our heads, a burst of + light outlined under the bellying strip of our sail the pointed crown of + Castro’s hat, reposing on a heap of black clothing huddled in the bows. + The darkness swallowed it all. I swung Seraphina in front of me, and made + her sit low on the stern sheets beneath my feet. A lot of foam boiled up + around the boat, and we had the sensation of having been sent flying from + a catapult. + </p> + <p> + Everything was black—perfectly black. At intervals, headlong gusts + of rain swept over our heads. I suppose I did keep sufficiently cool, but + in every flash of lightning the wind, the sea, the clouds, the rain, and + the boat appeared to rush together thundering upon the coast. The line of + sands, bordered with a belt of foam, zigzagged dazzlingly upon an earth as + black as the clouds; only the headland, with every vision, remained sombre + and unmoved. At last it rose up right before the boat. Blue lightning + streamed on a lane of tumbling waters at its foot. Was this the entrance? + With the vague notion of shortening sail, I let the sheet go from my hand. + There was a jerk, the crack of snapped wood, and the next flash showed me + Castro emerging from the ruins of mast and sail. He uprose, hurling the + wreck from him overboard, then flickered out of sight with his arm waving + to the left, and I bore accordingly on the tiller. In a moment I saw him + again, erect forward, with the arm pointing to the right, and I obeyed his + signal. The clouds, straining with water and fire, were, indeed, lighting + us on our way. A wave swelled astern, chasing us in; rocking frightfully, + we glanced past a stationary mass of foam—a sandbar—breakers.... + It was terrible.... Suddenly, the motion of the boat changed, and the + flickers of lightning fell into a small, land-locked basin. The wind tore + deep furrows in it, howling and scuffling behind the dunes. Spray flew + from the whole surface, the entire pool of a bay seemed to heave bodily + upwards, and I saw Castro again, with his face to me this time. His black + cloak was blowing straight out from his throat, his mouth yawned wide; he + shouted directions, but in an instant darkness sealed my eyes with its + impenetrable impress. It was impossible to steer now; the boat swung and + reeled where she listed; a violent shock threw me sideways off my seat. I + felt her turning over, and, gathering Seraphina in my arms, I leaped out + before she capsized. I leaped clear out into shallow water. + </p> + <p> + I should never in my life have thought myself capable of such a feat, and + yet I did it with assurance, with no effort that I can remember. More than + that—I managed, after the leap, to keep my feet in the clinging, + staggering clutch of water charged with sand, which swirled heavily about + my knees. It kept on hurling itself at my legs from behind, while I waded + across the narrow strip of sand with an inspired firmness of step defying + all the power of the elements. I felt the harder ground at last, but not + before I had caught a momentary glimpse of a black and bulky object + tumbling over and over in the advancing and withdrawing liquid flurry of + the beach. + </p> + <p> + “Sit still here on the ground,” I shouted to Seraphina, though flights of + spray enveloped us completely. “I am going back for Castro.” + </p> + <p> + I faced about, putting my head down. He had been undoubtedly knocked over; + and an old man, with only one hand to help himself with, ran a very + serious risk of being buffeted into insensibility, and thus coming to his + death in some four feet of water. The violent glare disclosed a body, + entangled in a cloak, rolling about helplessly between land and water, as + it were. I dashed on in the dark; a wave went over my head as I stooped, + nearly waist-deep, groping. His rotary motion, in that smother, made it + extremely difficult to obtain any sort of hold. A little more, and he + would have knocked my legs from under me, but it was as if my grim + determination were by itself of a saving nature. He submitted to being + hauled up the beach, passively, like a sack. It was a heavy drag on the + sand; I felt him bump behind me on the edge of the harder ground, and a + deluge fell uninterruptedly from above. He lay prone on his face, like a + corpse, between Seraphina and myself. We could not remain there, however. + </p> + <p> + But where to go? What to do? In what direction to look for a refuge? Was + there any shelter near by? How were we to reach it? How were we to move at + all? No doubt he had expired; and the earth, swept, deluged, glimmering + fiercely and devastated with an awful uproar, appeared no longer + habitable. A thunder-clap seemed to crash new life into him; the world + flared all round, as if turning to a spark, and he was seen sitting up + dazedly, like one called up from the dead. Through it all he had preserved + his hat. + </p> + <p> + It was fixed firmly down under his chin with a handkerchief, the side rims + over his ears like flaps, and, for the rest, presenting the appearance of + a coal-scuttle bonnet behind, as well as in front. We followed its + peculiar aspect. Driving on under this indestructible headgear, he + flickered in and out of the world, while, with entwined arms and leaning + back against the wind with all our might, Seraphina and myself were borne + along in his train. He knew of a shelter; and this knowledge, perhaps, and + also his evident familiarity with the topography of the country, made him + appear indomitably confident in the storm. + </p> + <p> + A small plain of coarse grass was bounded by the steep spur of a rise. To + the left a little river would burst, all at once, in all its windings into + a bluish sulphurous glow; and between the crashes of thunder there was + heard the long-drawn, whistling swish of the rushes and cane-brakes + springing on the boggy ground. We skirted the rise. The rain beat against + it; the lightning showed its streaming and furrowed surface. We stumbled + in the gusts. We felt under our feet, mud, sand, rocky inequalities of the + ground, and the moving stones in the bed of a torrent, which broke + headlong against our ankles. The entrance of a deep ravine opened. + </p> + <p> + Its lower sides palpitated with the ceaseless tossing of dwarf trees and + bushes; and, motionless above the sombre tumult of the slopes, the + monumental stretch of bare rock rose on high, level at the top, and + emitting a ghastly yellow sheen in the flashes. The thunderclaps rolled + ponderously between the narrowing walls of that chasm, that was all aflame + one moment, and all black the next. A torrent springing at its head, and + dashing with inaudible fury along the bottom, seemed to gleam placidly + amongst the rounded forms of inky bushes and pale boulders below our path. + Enormous eddies of wind from above made us stop short and totter + breathless, clinging to each other. + </p> + <p> + Castro sustained Seraphina on the other side; but frequently he had to + leave us and move ahead, looking for the way. There was, in fact, a + half-obliterated path winding along the less steep of the two sides; and + we struggled after our guide with the unthinking fortitude of despair. He + was being disclosed to us so suddenly, extinguished so swiftly, that he + appeared, always, as if motionless and posturing in a variety of climbing + attitudes. The rise of the bottom was very steep, and the last hundred + yards really stiff. We did them practically on our hands and knees. The + dislodged stones bounded away from under our feet, unheard, like + puff-balls. + </p> + <p> + At the top I tried to make of my body a shelter for Seraphina. The wind + howled and roared over us. “Up! <i>Vamos!</i> The worst is yet before us,” + shrieked Castro in my ear. + </p> + <p> + What could he mean by this? The play of lightning opened to view only a + vast and rolling upland. Fire flowed in sheets undulating with the + expanses of long grass amongst the trees, here and there, in coal-black + clumps, and flashed violently against a low edge of forests very dark and + far away. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go!” he cried. “Courage, Señorita!” + </p> + <p> + Courage! The populace said of her that she had never needed to put her + foot to the ground. If courage consists, for a being so tender, in toiling + and enduring without faltering and plaint,—even to the very limit of + physical power,—then she was the most courageous woman in the world, + as she was the most charming, most faithful, most generous, and the most + worthy of love. I tried not to think of her racked limbs, for the very + pain and pity of it. We retraced our steps, but now following the edge of + that precipice out of which we had emerged. I had peremptorily insisted on + carrying her. She put her arms round my neck and, to my uplifted heart, + she weighed no heavier than a feather. Castro, grasping my arm, guided my + steps and gave me support against the wind. + </p> + <p> + There was a distinct lull. Even the thunder had rolled away, dwindling to + a deep mutter. Castro fell on his knees in front of me. + </p> + <p> + “It is here,” I heard him scream. + </p> + <p> + I set Seraphina down. A hooked dart of fire tore in two the thick canopy + of clouds. I started back from the edge. + </p> + <p> + “What! Here?” I yelled. + </p> + <p> + “Señor—<i>Si!</i> There is a cavern below....” + </p> + <p> + I had seen a ledge clinging to the face of the rock. + </p> + <p> + It was a cornice inclining downwards upon the wall of the precipice, as + you see, sometimes, a flight of stairs built against the outside wall of a + house. And it resembled a stair roughly, with long, sloping steps, wet + with rain. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Por Dios</i>, Señor, do not let us stay to think here, or we shall + perish in this tempest.” + </p> + <p> + He howled, gesticulated, shrieked with all the strength of his lungs. He + knew these tornadoes. Brute beasts would be found lying dead in the fields + in the morning. This was the beginning only. The lightning showed his + kneeling form, the eager upturned face, and a finger pointing urgently + into the abyss. The wind was nothing! Nothing to what would come after. As + he shrieked these words I was feeling the crust of the earth vibrate, + absolutely vibrate, under the soles of my feet, with the sound of thunder. + </p> + <p> + He unfastened his cloak, and was seen to struggle above his head with the + hovering and flapping cloth, as though he had captured a black and + pugnacious bird. We mastered at last a corner each, and then we started to + twist the whole, as if to wring the water out. We produced, thus, a sort + of short rope, the thickness of a cable, and the descent began. + </p> + <p> + “Do not look behind you. Do not look,” Castro screeched. + </p> + <p> + The first downward steps were terrible, but as soon as our heads had sunk + below the level of the plain it was better, for we had turned about to the + rock, moving sideways, cautiously, one step at a time, as if inspecting + its fractured roughness for traces of a mysterious inscription. Castro, + with one end of the twisted cloak in his hand, went first; I held the + other; and between us, Seraphina, the rope at her back, imitated our + movements, with her loosened hair flying high in the wind, and her pale, + rigid head as if deaf to the crashes. I saw the drawn stillness of her + face, her dilated eyes staring within three inches of the strata. The + strain on our prudence was tremendous. The knowledge of the precipice + behind must have affected me. Explain it as you will, several times during + that descent I felt my brain slip away from my control, and suggest a + desire to fling myself over backwards. The twigs of the bushes, growing a + little below the outer edge of the path, swished at my calves. Castro + stopped. The cornice ended as a broken stairway hangs upon nothing. A + tall, narrow arch stood back in the rock, with a sill three feet high at + least. Castro clambered over; his head and torso, when he turned about, + were lighted up blindingly between the inner walls at every flash. Seeing + me lay hold of Seraphina, he yelled: + </p> + <p> + “Señor, mind! It’s death if you stagger back.” + </p> + <p> + I lifted her up, and put her over like a child; and, no sooner in myself, + felt my strength leave all my limbs as water runs out of an overturned + vessel. I could not have lifted up a child’s doll then. Directly, with a + wild little laugh, she said to me: + </p> + <p> + “Juan—I shall never dare come out.” + </p> + <p> + I hugged her silently to my breast. + </p> + <p> + Castro went ahead. It was a narrow passage; our elbows touched the sides + all the way. He struck at his flint regularly, sparks streamed down from + his hand; we felt a freshness, a sense of space, as though we had come + into another world. His voice directed us to turn to the left, then cried + in the dark, “Stand still.” A blue gleam darted after us, and retired + without having done anything against the tenebrous body of gloom, and the + thunder rolled far in, unobstructed, in leisurely, organ-like peals, as if + through an amazingly vast emptiness of a temple. But where was Castro? We + heard snappings, rustlings, mutters; sparks streamed, now here, now there. + We dared not move. There might have been steep ridges—deep holes in + that cavern. And suddenly we discovered him on all-fours, puffing out his + cheeks above a small flame kindled in a heap of dry sticks and leaves. + </p> + <p> + It was an abode of darkness, enormous, without sonority. Feeble currents + of air, passing on our faces, gave us a feeling of being in the open air + on a night more black than any known night had been before. One’s voice + lost itself in there without resonance, as if on a plain; the smoke of our + blaze drove aslant, scintillating with red sparks, and went trailing afar, + as if under the clouds of a starless sky. Ultimately, it must have escaped + through some imperceptible crevices in the roof of rock. In one place, + only, the light of the fire illuminated a small part of the rugged wall, + where the shadows of our bodies would surge up, repeating our movements, + and suddenly be gone from our sight. Everywhere else, pressing upon the + reflection of the flames, the blind darkness of the vault might have + extended away for miles and miles. + </p> + <p> + Castro thought it probable. He made me observe the incline of the floor. + It sloped down deep and far. For miles, no doubt. Nobody could tell; no + one had seen the end of it. This cavern had been known of old. This + brushwood, these dead leaves, that would make a couch for her Excellency, + had been stored for years—perhaps by men who had died long ago. Look + at the dry rot. These large piles of branches were found stacked up when + he first beheld this place. <i>Caramba!</i> What toil! What fatigue! Let + us thank the saints, however. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, he shook his head at the strangeness of it. His cloak, + spread out wide, was drying in the light, while he busied himself with his + hat, turning it before the blaze in both hands, tenderly; and his tight + little figure, lit up in front from head to foot, steamed from every limb. + His round, plump shoulders and gray-shock head smoked quietly at the top. + Suddenly, the fine mesh of wrinkles on his face ran together, shrinking + like a torn cobweb; a spasmodic sound, quite new to me, was heard. He had + laughed. + </p> + <p> + The warmth of the fire had penetrated our chilled bodies with a feeling of + comfort and repose. Williams’ flask was empty; and this was a new Castro, + mellowed, discoursive, almost genial. It was obvious to me that, had it + not been for him, we two, lost and wandering in the storm, should have + died from exposure and exhaustion—from some accident, perhaps. On + the other hand I had indubitably saved his life, and he had already + thanked me in high-flown language; very grave, but exaggerating the + horrors of his danger, as a woman might have done for the better + expression of gratitude. He had been greatly shocked. Spaniards, as a + race, have never, for all their conquests, been on intimate terms with the + sea. As individuals I have often observed in them, especially in the lower + classes, a sort of dread, a dislike of salt water, mingled with contempt + and fear. + </p> + <p> + Castro, lifting up his right arm, protested that I had given a proof of + very noble devotion in rushing back for an old man into that black water. + Ough! He shuddered. He had given himself up—<i>por Dios!</i> He + hinted that, at his age, he could not have cared much for life; but then, + drowning in the sea was a death abhorrent to an old Christian. You died + brutally—without absolution, and unable, even, to think of your + sins. He had had his mouth filled with horrid, bitter sand, too. Tfui! He + gave me a thousand thanks. But these English were wonderful in their + way.... Ah! <i>Caramba!</i> They were.... + </p> + <p> + A large protuberance of the rocky floor had been roughly chipped into the + semblance of a seat, God only knows by what hands and in what forgotten + age. Seraphina’s inclined pose, her torn dress, the wet tresses lying over + her shoulders, her homeless aspect, made me think of a beautiful and + miserable gipsy girl drying her hair before a fire. A little foot + advanced, gleamed white on the instep in front of the ruddy glare; her + clasped fingers nursed one raised knee; and, shivering no longer, her head + drooping in still profile, she listened to us, frowning thoughtfully upon + the flames. + </p> + <p> + In the guise of a beggar-maid, and fair, like a fugitive princess of + romance, she sat concealed in the very heart of her dominions. This cavern + belonged to her, as Castro remarked, and the bay of the sea, and the earth + above our heads, the rolling upland, herds of cattle, fields of sugar-cane—even + as far as the forest away there; the forest itself, too. And there were on + that estate, alone, over two hundred Africans, he was able to tell us. He + boasted of the wealth of the Riegos. Her Excellency, probably, did not + know such details. Two hundred—certainly. The estate of Don Vincente + Salazar was on the other side of the river. Don Vincente was at present + suffering the indignity of a prison for a small matter of a quarrel with + another <i>caballero</i>—who had died lately—and all, he + understood, through the intrigues of the prior of a certain convent; the + uncle, they said, of the dead <i>caballero</i>. Bah! There was something + to get. These fat friars were like the lean wolves of Russia—hungry + for everything they could see. Never enough, <i>Cuerpo de Bios!</i> Never + enough! Like their good friend who helped them in their iniquities, the + Juez O’Brien, who had been getting rich for years on the sublime + generosity of her Excellency’s blessed father. In the greatness of his + nobility, Don Balthasar of holy memory had every right to be obstinate.... + <i>Basta!</i> He would speak no more; only there is a saying in Castile + that fools and obstinate people make lawyers rich.... + </p> + <p> + “<i>Vuestra Señoria</i>,” he cried, checking himself, slapping his breast + penitently, “deign to forgive me. I have been greatly exalted by the + familiarity of the two last men of your house—allowed to speak + freely because of my fidelity.... Alas! Alas!” + </p> + <p> + Seraphina, on the other side of the fire, made a vague gesture, and took + her chin in her hand without looking at him. + </p> + <p> + “Patience,” he mumbled to himself very audibly. “He is rich, this picaro, + O’Brien. But there is, also, a proverb—that no riches shall avail in + the day of vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + Noticing that we had begun to whisper together, he threw himself before + the fire, and was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Promise me one thing, Juan,” murmured Seraphina. + </p> + <p> + I was kneeling by the side of her seat. + </p> + <p> + “By all that’s holy,” I cried, “I shall force him to come out and fight + fair—and kill him as an English gentleman may.” + </p> + <p> + “Not that! Not that!” she interrupted me. She did not mean me to do that. + It was what she feared. It would be delivering myself into that man’s + hands. Did I think what that meant? It would be delivering her, too, into + that man’s power. She would not survive it. And if I desired her to live + on, I must keep out of O’Brien’s clutches. + </p> + <p> + “In my thoughts I have bound my life to yours, Juan, so fast that the + stroke which cuts yours, cuts mine, too. No death can separate us.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I said. + </p> + <p> + And she took my head in her hands, and looked into my eyes. + </p> + <p> + “No more mourning,” she whispered rapidly. “No more. I am too young to + have a lover’s grave in my life—and too proud to submit....” + </p> + <p> + “Never,” I protested ardently. “That couldn’t be.” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore look to it, Juan, that you do not sacrifice your life which is + mine, either to your love—or—or—to revenge.” She bowed + her head; the falling hair concealed her face. “For it would be in vain.” + </p> + <p> + “The cloak is perfectly dry now, Señorita,” said Castro, reclining on his + elbow on the edge of the darkness. + </p> + <p> + We two stepped out towards the entrance, leaving her on her knees, in + silent prayer, with her hands clasped on her forehead, and leaning against + the rugged wall of rock. Outside, the earth, enveloped in fire and uproar, + seemed to have been given over to the fury of a devil. + </p> + <p> + Yes. She was right. O’Brien was a formidable and deadly enemy. I wished + ourselves on board the <i>Lion</i> chaperoned by Mrs. Williams, and in the + middle of the Atlantic. Nothing could make us really safe from his hatred + but the vastness of the ocean. Meantime we had a shelter, for that night, + at least, in this cavern that seemed big enough to contain, in its black + gloom of a burial vault, all the dust and passions and hates of a + nation.... + </p> + <p> + Afterwards Castro and I sat murmuring by the diminished fire. He had much + to say about the history of this cave. There was a tradition that the + ancient buccaneers had held their revels in it. The stone on which the + senorita had been sitting was supposed to have been the throne of their + chief. A ferocious band they were, without the fear of God or devil—mostly + English. The Rio Medio picaroons had used this cavern, occasionally, up to + a year or so ago. But there were always ugly affairs with the people on + the estate—the <i>vaqueros</i>. In his younger days Don Balthasar, + having whole leagues of grass land here, had introduced a herd of cattle; + then, as the Africans are useless for that work, he had ordered some peons + from Mexico to be brought over with their families—ignorant men, who + hardly knew how to make the sign of the cross. The quarrels had been about + the cattle, which the <i>Lugareños</i> killed for meat. The peons rode + over them, and there were many wounds on both sides. Then, the last time a + Rio Medio schooner was lying here (after looting a ship outside), there + was some gambling going on (they played round this very stone), and Manuel—(<i>Si, + Señor</i>, this same Manuel the singer—<i>Bestia!</i>)—in a + dispute over the stakes, killed a peon, striking him unexpectedly with a + knife in the throat. No vengeance was taken for this, because the <i>Lugareños</i> + sailed away at once; but the widow made a great noise, and some rumours + came to the ears of Don Balthasar himself—for he, Castro, had been + honoured with a mission to visit the estate. That was even the first + occasion of Manuel’s hate for him—Castro. And, as usual, the + Intendente after all settled the matter as he liked, and nothing was done + to Manuel. Don Balthasar was old, and, besides, too great a noble to be + troubled with the doings of such vermin.... And Castro began to yawn. + </p> + <p> + At daybreak—he explained—he would start for the <i>hacienda</i> + early, and return with mules for Seraphina and myself. The buildings of + the estate were nearly three leagues away. All this tract of the country + on the side of the sea was very deserted, the sugar-cane fields worked by + the slaves lying inland, beyond the habitations. Here, near the coast, + there were only the herds of cattle ranging the <i>savannas</i> and the + peons looking after them, but even they sometimes did not come in sight of + the sea for weeks together. He had no fear of being seen by anybody on his + journey; we, also, could start without fear in daylight, as soon as he + brought the mules. For the rest, he would make proper arrangements for + secrecy with the husband of Seraphina’s nurse—Enrico, he called him: + a silent Galician; a graybeard worthy of confidence. + </p> + <p> + One of his first cares had been to grub out of his soaked clothes a + handful of tobacco, and now he turned over the little drying heap + critically. He hunted up a fragment of maize leaf somewhere upon his + bosom. His face brightened. “<i>Bueno</i>,” he muttered, very pleased. + </p> + <p> + “Señor—good-night,” he said, more humanized than I had supposed + possible; or was it only that I was getting to know him better? “And + thanks. There’s that in life which even an old tired man.... Here I, + Castro... old and sad, Señor. Yes, Señor—nothing of mine in all the + world—and yet.... But what a death! Ouch! the brute water... <i>Caramba!</i> + Altogether improper for a man who has escaped from a great many battles + and the winter of Russia.... The snow, Señor....” + </p> + <p> + He drowsed, garrulous, with the blackened end of his cigarette hanging + from his lower lip, swayed sideways—and let himself go over gently, + pillowing his head on the stump of his arm. The thin, viperish blade, + stuck upwards from under his temple, gleamed red before the sinking fire. + </p> + <p> + I raised a handful of flaring twigs to look at Sera-phina. A terrible + night raged over the land; the inner arch of the opening growled, winking + bluishly time after time, and, like an enchanted princess enveloped in a + beggar’s cloak, she was lying profoundly asleep in the heart of her + dominions. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER EIGHT + </h3> + <p> + The first thing I noted, on opening my eyes, was that Castro had gone + already; I was annoyed. He might have called me. However, we had arranged + everything the evening before. The broad day, penetrating through the + passage, diffused a semicircle of twilight over the flooring. It extended + as far as the emplacement of the fire, black and cold now with a gray heap + of ashes in the middle. Farther away in the darkness, beyond the reach of + light, Seraphina on her bed of leaves did not stir. But what was that hat + doing there? Castro’s hat. It asserted its existence more than it ever did + on the head of its master; black and rusty, like a battered cone of iron, + reposing on a wide flange near the ashes. Then he was not gone. He would + not start to walk three leagues, bare-headed. He would appear presently; + and I waited, vexed at the loss of time. But he did not appear. “Castro,” + I cried in an undertone. The leaves rustled; Seraphina sat up. + </p> + <p> + We were pleased to be with each other in an inexpugnable retreat, to hear + our voices untinged by anxiety; and, going to the outer end of the short + passage, we breathed with joy the pure air. The tops of the bushes below + glittered with drops of rain, the sky was clear, and the sun, to us + invisible, struck full upon the face of the rock on the other side of the + ravine. A great bird soared, all was light and silence, and we forgot + Castro for a time. I threw my legs over the sill, and sitting on the stone + surveyed the cornice. The bright day robbed the ravine of half its + horrors. The path was rather broad, though there was a frightful sheer + drop of ninety feet at least. Two men could have walked abreast on that + ledge, and with a hand-rail one would have thought nothing of it. The most + dangerous part yet was at the entrance, where it ended in a rounded + projection not quite so wide as the rest. I bantered Seraphina as to going + out. She said she was ready. She would shut her eyes, and take hold of my + hand. Englishmen, she had heard, were good at climbing. Their heads were + steady. Then we became silent. There were no signs of Castro. Where could + he have gone? What could he be doing? It was unimaginable. + </p> + <p> + I grew nervous with anxiety at last, and begged Seraphina to go in. She + obeyed without a word, and I remained just within the entrance, watching. + I had no means to tell the time, but it seemed to me that an hour or two + passed. Hadn’t we better, I thought, start at once on foot for the <i>hacienda?</i> + I did not know the way, but by descending the ravine again to the sea, and + walking along the bank of the little river, I was sure to reach it. The + objection to this was that we should miss Castro. Hang Castro! And yet + there was something mysterious and threatening in his absence. Could he—could + he have stepped out for some reason in the dark, perhaps, and tumbled off + the cornice? I had seen no traces of a slip—there would be none on + the rock; the twigs of the growth below the edge would spring back, of + course. But why should he fall? The footing was good—however, a + sudden attack of vertigo.... I tried to look at it from every side. He was + not a somnambulist, as far as I knew. And there was nothing to eat—I + felt hungry already—or drink. The want of water would drive us out + very soon to the spring bubbling out at the head of the ravine, a mile in + the open. Then why not go at once, drink, and return to our lair as + quickly as possible? + </p> + <p> + But I did not like to think of her going up and down the cornice. I + remembered that we had a flask, and went in hastily to look for it. First, + I looked near the hat; then, Seraphina and I, bent double with our eyes on + the ground examined every square inch of twilight; we even wandered a long + way into the darkness, feeling about with our hands. It was useless! I + called out to her, and then we desisted, and coming together, wondered + what might have become of the thing. He had taken it—that was clear. + </p> + <p> + But if, as one might suppose, he had taken it away to get some water for + us, he ought to have been back long before. I was beginning to feel rather + alarmed, and I tried to consider what we had better do. It was necessary + to learn, first, what had become of him. Staring out of the opening, in my + perplexity, I saw, on the other side of the ravine, the lower part of a + man from his waist to his feet. + </p> + <p> + By crouching down at once, I brought his head into view. This was not + Castro. He wore a black sombrero, and on his shoulder carried a gun. He + turned his back on the ravine, and began to walk straight away, sinking + from my sight till only his hat and shoulders remained visible. He lifted + his arm then—straight up—evidently as a signal, and waited. + Presently another head and shoulders joined him, and they glided across my + line of sight together. But I had recognized their bandit-like aspect with + infinite consternation. <i>Lu-garenos!</i> + </p> + <p> + I caught Seraphina’s hand. My first thought was that we should have to + steal out of the cavern with the first coming of darkness. Castro must be + lying low in hiding somewhere above. The thing was plain. We must try to + make our way to the <i>hacienda</i> under the cover of the night, unseen + by those two men. Evidently they were emissaries sent from Rio Medio to + watch this part of the coast against our possible landing. I was to be + hunted down, it seems: and I reproached myself bitterly with the hardships + I was bringing upon her continually. Thinking of the fatigues she had + undergone—(I did not think of dangers—that was another thing—the + romance of dying together like all the lovers in the tradition of the + world)—I shook with rage and exasperation. The firm pressure of her + hands calmed me. She was content. But what if they took it into their + heads to come into the cavern? + </p> + <p> + The emptiness of the blue sky above the sheer yellow rock opposite was + frightful. It was a mere strip, stretched like a luminous bandage over our + eyes. They were, perhaps, even now on their way round the head of the + ravine. I had no weapon except the butt of my pistol. The charges had been + spoilt by the salt water, of course, and I had been tempted to fling it + out of my belt, but for the thought of obtaining some powder somewhere. + And those men I had seen were armed. At once we abandoned the + neighbourhood of the entrance, plunging straight away into the profound + obscurity of the cave. The rocky ground under our feet had a gentle slope, + then dipped so sharply as to surprise us; and the entrance, diminishing at + our backs, shone at last no larger than the entrance of a mouse-hole. We + made a few steps more, gropingly. The bead of light disappeared altogether + when we sat down, and we remained there hand-in-hand and silent, like two + frightened children placed at the centre of the earth. There was not a + sound, not a gleam. Sera-phina bore the crushing strain of this perfect + and black stillness in an almost heroic immobility; but, as to me, it + seemed to lie upon my limbs, to embarrass my breathing like a numbness + full of dread; and to shake that feeling off I jumped up repeatedly to + look at that luminous bead, that point of light no bigger than a pearl in + the infinity of darkness. And once, just as I was looking, it shut and + opened at me slowly, like the deliberate drooping and rising of the lid + upon a white eyeball. + </p> + <p> + Somebody had come in. + </p> + <p> + We watched side by side. Only one. Would he go out? The point of light, + like a white star setting in a coal-black firmament, remained uneclipsed. + Whoever had entered was in no haste to leave. Moreover, we had no means of + telling what another obscuring of the light might mean; a departure or + another arrival. There were two men about, as we knew; and it was even + possible that they had entered together in one wink of the light, treading + close upon each other’s heels. We both felt the sudden great desire to + know for certain. But, especially, we needed to find out if perchance this + was not Castro who had returned. We could not afford to lose his + assistance. And should he conclude, we were out—should he risk + himself outside again, in order to find us and be discovered himself, and + thus lost to us when we felt him so necessary? And the doubt came. If this + man was Castro, why didn’t he penetrate further, and shout our names? He + ought to have been intelligent enough to guess.... And it was this doubt + that, making suspense intolerable, put us in motion. + </p> + <p> + We circled widely in that subterranean darkness, which, unlike the darkest + night on the surface of the earth, had no suggestion of shape, no horizon, + and seemed to have no more limit than the darkness of infinite space. On + this floor of solid rock we moved with noiseless steps, like a pair of + timid phantoms. The spot of light grew in size, developed a shape—stretching + from a pearly bead to a silvery thread; and, approaching from the side, we + scanned from afar the circumscribed region of twilight about the opening. + There was a man in it. We contemplated for a time his rounded back, his + drooping head. It was gray. The man was Castro. He sat rocking himself + sorrowfully over the ashes. He was mourning for us. We were touched by + this silent faithfulness of grief. + </p> + <p> + He started when I put my hand on his shoulder, looked up, then, instead of + giving any signs of joy, dropped his head again. + </p> + <p> + “You managed to avoid them, Castro?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Señor, behold. Here I am. I, Castro.” + </p> + <p> + His tone was gloomy, and after sitting still for a while under our gaze, + he slapped his forehead violently. He was in his tantrums, I judged, and, + as usual, angry with me—the cause of every misfortune. He was upset + and annoyed beyond reason, as I thought, by this new difficulty. It meant + delay—a certain measure of that sort of danger of which we had + thought ourselves free for a time—night travelling for Seraphina. + But I had an idea to save her this. We did not all want to go. Castro + could start, alone, for the <i>hacienda</i> after dark, and bring, besides + the mules, half a dozen peons with him for an escort. There was nothing + really to get so upset about. The danger would have been if he had let + himself be caught. But he had not. As to his temper, I knew my man; he had + been amiable too long. But by this time we were so sure of his truculent + devotion that Seraphina spoke gently to him, saying how anxious we had + been—how glad we were to see him safe with us.... He would not be + conciliated easily, it seemed, and let out only a blood-curdling dismal + groan. Without looking at her, he tried hastily to make a cigarette. He + was very clever at it generally, rolling it with one hand on his knee + somehow; but this time all his limbs seemed to shake, he lost several + pinches of tobacco, dropped the piece of maize leaf. Seraphina, stooping + over his shoulder, took it up, twisted the thing swiftly. “Take, <i>amigo</i>,” + she said. + </p> + <p> + He was looking up at her, as if struck dumb, roiling his eye wildly. He + jumped up. + </p> + <p> + “You—Señorita! For a miserable old man! You break my heart.” + </p> + <p> + And with long strides he disappeared in the darkness, leaving us + wondering. + </p> + <p> + We sat side by side on the couch of leaves. With Castro there I felt we + were quite equal to dealing with the two Lugareños if they had the unlucky + idea of intruding upon us. Indeed, a vigilant man, posted on one side of + the end of the passage, could have disputed the entrance against ten, + twenty, almost any number, as long as he kept his strength and had + something heavy enough to knock them over. Faint sounds reached me, as if + at a great distance Castro had been shouting to himself. I called to him. + He did not answer, but unexpectedly his short person showed itself in the + brightest part of the light. + </p> + <p> + “Señor!” he called out with a strange intonation. I got up and went to + him. He seemed to be listening intently with his ear turned to the + opening. Then suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “Look at me, Señor. Am I Castro—the same Castro? old and + friendless?” + </p> + <p> + He stood biting his forefinger and looking up at me from under his knitted + eyebrows. I didn’t know what to say. What was this nonsense? + </p> + <p> + He ejaculated a sort of incomprehensible babble, and, passing by me, + rushed towards Seraphina; she sat up, startled, on her couch of leaves. + Falling before her on his plump knees, he seized her hand, pressed it + against his ragged moustache. + </p> + <p> + “Excellency, forgive me! No—no forgiveness! Ha! old man! Ha—thou + old man....” + </p> + <p> + He bowed before her shadowy figure, that sustained the pale oval of the + face, till his forehead struck the rock. Plunging his hand into the ashes, + he poured a fistful with inarticulate low cries over his gray hairs; and + the agitation of that obese little body on its knees had a lamentable and + grotesque inconsequence, as inexplicable in itself as the sorrow of a + madman. Full of wonder before his abject collapse, she murmured: + </p> + <p> + “What have you done?” + </p> + <p> + He tried to fling himself upon her feet, but my hand was in his collar, + and after an unmerciful shaking, I sat him down by main force. He gulped, + blinked the whites of his eyes, then, in a whisper full of rage: + </p> + <p> + “Horror, shame, misery, and malediction; I have betrayed you.” + </p> + <p> + At once she said soothingly, “Tomasr I do not believe this”; while I + thought to myself: How? Why? For what reason? In what manner betrayed? How + was it possible? And, if so, why did he come back to us? But, as things + stood, he would never dare approach a Lugareño. If he had, they would + never have let him go again. + </p> + <p> + “You told them we were here?” I asked, so perfectly incredulous that I was + not at all surprised to hear him protest, by all the saints, that he never + did—never would do. Never. Never.... But why should he? Was he the + prey of some strange hallucination? Rocking himself, he struck his breast + with his clenched hand, then suddenly caught at his hair and remained + perfectly motionless. Minutes passed; this despairing stillness inspired + in me a feeling of awe at last—the awe of something inconceivable. + My head buzzed so with the effort to think that I had the illusions of + faint murmurs in the cave, the very shadows of murmurs. And all at once a + real voice—his voice—burst out fearfully rapid and voluble. + </p> + <p> + He had really gone out to get a provision of water. Waking up early, he + saw us sleeping, and felt a great pity for the senorita. As to the <i>caballero</i>—his + saviour from drowning, alas!—the senorita would need every ounce of + his strength. He would let us sleep till his return from the spring; and, + there being a blessed freshness in the air, he caught up the flask and + started bare-headed. The sun had just risen. Would to God he had never + seen it! After plunging his face in the running water, he remained on his + knees and busied himself in rinsing and filling the flask. The torrent, + gushing with force, made a loud noise, and after he had done screwing the + top on, he was about to rise, when, glancing about carelessly, he saw two + men leaning on their <i>escopetas</i> and looking at him in perfect + silence. They were standing right over him; he knew them well; one they + called El Rubio; the other, the little one, was José—squinting José. + They said nothing; nothing at all. With a sudden and mighty effort he + preserved his self-command, affected unconcern and, instead of getting up, + only shifted his pose to a sitting position, took off his shoes and + stockings, and proceeded to bathe his feet. But it was as if a blazing + fire had been kindled in his breast, and a tornado had been blowing in his + head. + </p> + <p> + He could not tell whence these two had come, with what object, or how much + they knew. They might have been only messengers from Rio Medio to Havana. + They generally went in couples. If Manuel had escaped alive out of the + sea, everything was known in Rio Medio. From where he sat he beheld the + empty, open sea over the dunes, but the edge of the upland, cleft by many + ravines (of which the one we had ascended was the deepest), concealed from + him the little basin and the inlet. He was certain these men had not come + up that way. They had approached him over the plain. But there was more + than one way by which the upland could be reached from below. The thoughts + rushed round and round his head. He remembered that our boat must be + floating or lying stranded in the little bay, and resolved, in case of + necessity, to say that we two were dead, that we had been drowned. + </p> + <p> + It was El Rubio who put the very question to him, in an insolent tone, and + sitting on the ground out of his reach, with his gun across his knees. His + long knife ready in his hand, squinting José remained standing over + Castro. Those two men nodded to each other significantly at the + intelligence. He perceived that they were more than half disposed to + credit his story. They had nearly been drowned themselves pursuing that + accursed heretic of an Englishman. When, from their remarks, he learned + that the schooner was in the bay, he began putting on his shoes, though + the hope of making a sudden dash for his life down the ravine abandoned + him. + </p> + <p> + The schooner had been run in at night during the gale, and in such + distress that they let her take the ground. She was not injured, however, + and some of them were preparing to haul her off. Our boat, as I conceived, + after bumping along the beach, had drifted within the influence of the + current created by the little river, or else by the water forced into the + basin by the tempest, seeking to escape, and had been carried out towards + the inlet. She was seen at daylight, knocking about amongst the breakers, + bottom up, and in such shallow water that three or four men wading out + knee-deep managed to turn her over. They had found Mrs. Williams’ woollen + shawl and my cap floating underneath. At the same time the broken mast and + sail were made out, tossing upon the waves, not very far off to seaward. + That the boat had been in the bay at all did not seem to have occurred to + them. It had been concluded that she had capsized outside the entrance. It + was very possible that we had been drowned under her. Castro hastened to + confirm the idea by relating how he had been clinging to the bottom of the + boat for a long time. Thus he had saved himself, he declared. + </p> + <p> + “Manuel will be glad,” observed El Rubio then, with an evil laugh. And for + a long time nobody said a word. + </p> + <p> + El Rubio, cross-legged, was observing him with the eyes of a basilisk, but + Castro swore a great oath that, as to himself, he showed no signs of fear. + He looked at the water gushing from the rock, bubbling up, sparkling, + running away in a succession of tiny leaps and falls. Why should he fear? + Was he not old, and tired, and without any hope of peace on earth? What + was death? Nothing. It was absolutely nothing. It comes to all. It was + rest after much vain trouble—and he trusted that, through his + devotion to the Mother of God, his sins would be forgiven after a short + time in purgatory. But, as he had made up his mind not to fall into + Manuel’s hands, he resolved that presently he would stab himself to the + heart, where he sat—over this running water. For it would not be + like a suicide. He was doomed, and surely God did not want his body to be + tormented by such a devil as Manuel before death. + </p> + <p> + He would lean far over before he struck his faithful blade into his + breast, so as to fall with his face in the water. It looked deliciously + cool, and the sun was heavy on his bare head. Suddenly, El Rubio sprang to + his feet, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Now, José.” + </p> + <p> + It is clear that these ruffians stood in awe of his blade. In their + cowardly hearts they did not think it quite safe (being only two to one) + to try and disarm that old man. They backed away a step or two, and, + levelling their pieces, suddenly ordered him to get up and walk before. He + threw at them an obscene word. He thought to himself, “<i>Bueno!</i> They + will blow my head off my shoulders.” No emotion stirred in him, as if his + blood had already ceased to run in his veins. They remained, all three, in + a state of suspended animation, but at last El Rubio hissed through his + teeth with vexation, and grunted: + </p> + <p> + “Attention, José. Take aim. We will break his legs and take away the sting + of this old scorpion.” + </p> + <p> + Castro’s blood felt chilly in his limbs, but instead of planting his knife + in his breast, he spoke up to ask them where, supposing he consented, they + wished to conduct him. + </p> + <p> + “To Manuel—our captain. He would like to embrace you before you + die,” said El Rubio, advancing a stride nearer, his gun to his shoulder. + “Get up! March!” + </p> + <p> + And Castro found himself on his feet, looking straight into the black + holes of the barrels. + </p> + <p> + “Walk!” they exclaimed together, stepping upon him. + </p> + <p> + The time had come to die. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! <i>Canalla!</i>” he said. + </p> + <p> + They made a menacing clamour, “Walk <i>viejo</i>, traitor; walk.” + </p> + <p> + “Señorita—I walked.” The heartrending effort of the voice, the + trembling of this gray head, the sobs under the words, oppressed our + breast with dismay and dread. Ardently he would have us believe that at + this juncture he was thinking of us only—of us wondering, alone, + ignorant of danger, and hidden blindly under the earth. His purpose was to + provoke the two <i>Luga-reños</i> to shoot, so that we should be warned by + the reports. Besides, an opportunity for escape might yet present itself + in some most unlikely way, perhaps at the very last moment. Had he not his + own life in his own hands? He cared not for it. It was in his power to end + it at any time. And there would be dense thickets on the way; long grass + where one could plunge suddenly—who knows! And overgrown ravines + where one could hide—creep under the bushes—escape—and + return with help.... But when he faced the plains its greatness crushed + his poor strength. The uncovered vastness imprisoned him as effectually as + a wall. He knew himself for what he was: an old man, short of breath, + heavy of foot; nevertheless he walked on hastily, his eyes on the ground. + The footsteps of his captors sounded behind him, and he tried to edge + towards the ravine. When nearly above the opening of the cavern he would, + he thought, swerve inland, and dash off as fast as he was able. Then they + would have to fire at him; we would be sure to hear the shots, the warning + would be clear... and suddenly, looking up, he saw that a small band of <i>Lugareños</i>, + having just ascended the brow of the upland, were coming to meet him. Now + was the time to get shot; he turned sharply, and began to run over that + great plain towards a distant clump of trees. + </p> + <p> + Nobody fired at him. He heard only the mingled jeers and shouts of the two + men behind, “Quicker, Castro; quicker!” They followed him, holding their + sides. Those ahead had already spread themselves out over the plain, + yelling to each other, and were converging upon him. That was the time to + stop, and with one blow fall dead at their feet. He doubled round in front + of Manuel, who stood waving his arms and screeching orders, and ran back + towards the ravine. The plain rang with furious shouts. They rushed at him + from every side. He would throw himself over. It was a race for the + precipice. He won it. + </p> + <p> + I suppose he found it not so easy to die, to part with the warmth of + sunshine, the taste of food; to break that material servitude to life, + contemptible as a vice, that binds us about like a chain on the limbs of + hopeless slaves. He showered blows upon his chest, sitting before us, he + battered with his fist at the side of his head till I caught his arm. We + could always sell our lives dearly, I said. He would have to defend the + entrance with me. We two could hold it till it was blocked with their + corpses. + </p> + <p> + He jumped up with a derisive shriek; a cloud of ashes flew from under his + stumble, and he vanished in the darkness with mad gesticulations. + </p> + <p> + “Their corpses—their corpses—their... Ha! ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + The snarling sound died away; and I understood, then, what meant this + illusion of ghostly murmurs that once or twice had seemed to tremble in + the narrow region of gray light around the arch. The sunshine of the + earth, and the voices of men, expired on the threshold of the eternal + obscurity and stillness in which we were imprisoned, as if in a grave with + inexorable death standing between us and the free spaces of the world. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER NINE + </h3> + <p> + For it meant that. Imprisoned! Castro’s derisive shriek meant that. And I + had known it before. He emerged back out of the black depths, with livid, + swollen features, and foam about his mouth, to splutter: + </p> + <p> + “Their corpses, you say.... Ha! Our corpses,” and retreated again, where I + could only hear incoherent mutters. + </p> + <p> + Seraphina clutched my arm. “Juan—together—no separation.” + </p> + <p> + I had known it, even as I spoke of selling our lives dearly. They could + only be surrendered. Surrendered miserably to these wretches, or to the + everlasting darkness in which Castro muttered his despair. I needed not to + hear this ominous and sinister sound—nor yet Seraphina’s cry. She + understood, too. They would never come down unless to look upon us when we + were dead. I need not have gone to the entrance of the cave to understand + all the horror of our fate. The <i>Lugareños</i> had already lighted a + fire. Very near the brink, too. + </p> + <p> + It was burning some thirty feet above my head; and the sheer wall on the + other side caught up and sent across into my face the crackling of dry + branches, the loud excited talking, the arguments, the oaths, the + laughter; now and then a very shriek of joy. Manuel was giving orders. + Some advanced the opinion that the cursed <i>Inglez</i>, the spy who came + from Jamaica to see whom he could get for a hanging without a priest, was + down there, too. So that was it! O’Brien knew how to stir their hate. I + should get a short shrift. “He was a fiend, the <i>Inglez</i>: look how + many of us he has killed!” they cried; and Manuel would have loved to cut + my flesh, in small pieces, off my bones—only, alas! I was now beyond + his vengeance, he feared. However, somebody was left. + </p> + <p> + He must have thrown himself flat, with his head over the brink, for his + yell of “Castro!” exploded, and rolled heavily between the rocks. + </p> + <p> + “Castro! Castro! Castro!” he shouted twenty times, till he set the whole + ravine in an uproar. He waited, and when the clamour had quieted down + amongst the bushes below, called out softly, “Do you hear me, Castro, my + victim? Thou art my victim, Castro.” + </p> + <p> + Castro had crept into the passage after me. He pushed his head beyond my + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I defy thee, Manuel,” he screamed. + </p> + <p> + A hubbub arose. “He’s there! He is there!” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, Castro,” Manuel shouted from above. “I love thee because thou art + my victim. I shall sing a song for thee. Come up. Hey! Castro! Castro! + Come up.... No? Then the dead to their grave, and the living to their + feast.” + </p> + <p> + Sometimes a little earth, detached from the layer of soil covering the + rock, would fall streaming from above. The men told off to guard the + cornice walked to and fro near the edge, and the confused murmur of voices + hung subdued in the air of the cleft, like a modulated tremor. Castro, + moaning gently, stumbled back into the cave. + </p> + <p> + Seraphina had remained sitting on the stone seat. The twilight rested on + her knees, on her face, on the heap of cold ashes at her feet. But Castro, + who had stood stock-still, with a hand to his forehead, turned to me + excitedly: + </p> + <p> + “The peons, <i>for Dios!</i>” Had I ever thought of the peons belonging to + the <i>estancia?</i> + </p> + <p> + Well, that was a hope. I did not know exactly how matters stood between + them and the <i>Lugareños</i>. There was no love lost. A fight was likely; + but, even if no actual collision took place, they would be sure to visit + the camp above in no very friendly spirit; a chance might offer to make + our position known to these men, who had no reason to hate either me or + Castro—and would not be afraid of thwarting the miserable band of + ghouls sitting above our grave. How our presence could be made known I was + not sure. Perhaps simply by shouting with all our might from the mouth of + the cave. We could offer rewards—say who we were, summon them for + the service of their own Señorita. But, probably, they had never heard of + her. No matter. The news would soon reach the <i>hacienda</i>, and Enrico + had two hundred slaves at his back. One of us must always remain at the + mouth of the cave listening to what went on above. There would be the + trampling of horses’ hoofs—quarrelling, no doubt—anyway, much + talk—new voices—something to inform us. Only, how soon would + they come? They were not likely to be riding where there were no cattle. + Had Castro seen any signs of a herd on the uplands near by? + </p> + <p> + His face fell. He had not. There were many <i>savannas</i> within the belt + of forests, and the herds might be miles away, stampeded inland by the + storm. Sitting down suddenly, as if overcome, he averted his eyes and + began to scratch the rock between his legs with the point of his blade. + </p> + <p> + We were all silent. How long could we wait? How long could people live?... + I looked at Seraphina. How long could she live?... The thought seared my + heart like a hot iron. I wrung my hands stealthily. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! my blade!” muttered Castro. “My sting.... Old scorpion! They did not + take my sting away.... Only—bah!” + </p> + <p> + He, a man, had not risen to the fortitude of a venomous creature. He was + defeated. He groaned profoundly. Life was too much. It clung to one. A + scorpion—an insect—within a ring of flames, would lift its + sting and stab venom into its own head. And he—Castro—a man—a + man, <i>por Dios</i>—had less firmness than a creeping thing. Why—why, + did he not stab this dishonoured old heart? + </p> + <p> + “Señorita,” he cried agonizingly, “I swear I did shout to them to fire—so—in + to my breast—and then...” + </p> + <p> + Seraphina leaned over him pityingly. + </p> + <p> + “Enough, Castro. One lives because of hope. And grieve not. Thy death + would have done no good.” + </p> + <p> + Her face had a splendid pallor, the radiant whiteness and majesty of + marble; it had never before appeared to me more beautiful: and her hair + unrolling its dark undulations, as if tinged deep with the funereal gloom + of the background, covered her magnificently right down to her elbows. Her + eyes were incredibly profound. Her person had taken on an indefinable + beauty, a new beauty, that, like the comeliness that comes from joy, love, + or success, seemed to rise from the depths of her being, as if an + unsuspected and sombre quality of her soul had responded to the horror of + our situation. The fierce trials had gradually developed her, as burning + sunshine opens the bud of a flower; and I beheld her now in the plenitude + of her nature. From time to time Castro would raise up to her his blinking + old eyes, full of timidity and distress. + </p> + <p> + He had not been young enough to throw himself over—he had worn the + chain for too many years, had lived well and softly too long, was too old + a slave. And yet—if he had had the courage of the act! Who knows? I + rejected the thought far from me. It returned, and I caught myself looking + at him with irritated eyes. But this first day passed not intolerably. We + ignored our sufferings. Indeed, I felt none for my part. We had kept our + thoughts bound to the slow blank minutes. And if we exchanged a few words + now and then, it was to speak of patience, of resolution to endure and to + hope. + </p> + <p> + At night, from the hot ravine full of shadows, came the cool fretting of + the stream. The big blaze they kept up above crackled distinctly, throwing + a fiery, restless stain on the face of the rock in front of the cave, high + up under the darkness and the stars of the sky—and a pair of feet + would appear stamping, the shadow of a pair of ankles and feet, fantastic, + sustaining no gigantic body, but enormous, tramping slowly, resembling two + coffins leaping to a slow measure. I see them in my dreams now, sometimes. + They disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Manuel would sing; far in the night the monotonous staccato of the guitar + went on, accompanying plaintive murmurs, outbursts of anger and cries of + pain, the tremulous moans of sorrow. My nerves vibrated, I broke my nails + on the rock, and seemed to hear once more the parody of all the transports + and of every anguish, even to death—a tragic and ignoble rendering + of life. He was a true artist, powerful and scorned, admired with + derision, obeyed with jeers. It was a song of mourning; he sat on the + brink with his feet dangling over the precipice that sent him back his + inspired tones with a confused noise of sobs and desolation.... His idol + had been snatched from the humility of his adoring silence, like a falling + star from the sight of the worm that crawls.... He stormed on the strings; + and his voice emerged like the crying of a castaway in the tumult of the + gale. He apostrophized his instrument.... Woe! Woe! No more songs. He + would break it. Its work was done. He would dash it against the rock.... + His palm slapped the hollow wood furiously.... So that it should lie + shattered and mute like his own heart! + </p> + <p> + A frenzied explosion of yells, jests, and applause covered the finale. + </p> + <p> + A complete silence would follow, as if in the acclamations they had + exhausted at once every bestial sound. Somebody would cough pitifully for + a long time—and when he had done spluttering and cursing, the world + outside appeared lost in an even more profound stillness. The red stain of + the fire wavered across to play under the dark brow of the rock. The + irritated murmur of the torrent, tearing along below, returned timidly at + first, expanded, filled the ravine, ran through my ears in an angry + babble. The deadened footfalls on the brink sometimes dislodged a pebble: + it would start with a feeble rattle and be heard no more. + </p> + <p> + In the daytime, too, there were silences up there, perfect, profound. No + prowl of feet disturbed them; the sun blazed between the rocks, and even + the hum of insects could be heard. It seemed impossible not to believe + that they had all died by a miracle, or else had been driven away by a + silent panic. But two or more were always on the watch, directly above, + with their heads over the edge; and suddenly they would begin to talk + together in drowsy tones. It was as if some barbarous somnambulists had + mumbled in the daytime the bizarre atrocity of their thoughts. + </p> + <p> + They discussed Williams’ flask, which had been picked up. Was the cup made + of silver, they wondered. Manuel had appropriated it for his own use, it + seems. Well—he was the <i>capataz</i>. The <i>Inglez</i>, should he + appear by an impossible chance, was to be shot down at once; but Castro + must be allowed to give himself up. And they would snigger ferociously. + Sometimes quarrels arose, very noisy, a great hubbub of bickerings + touching their jealousies, their fears, their unspeakable hopes of murder + and rapine. They did not feel very safe where they were. Some would + maintain that Castro could not have saved himself, alone. The <i>Inglez</i> + was there, and even the senorita herself... Manuel scouted the idea with + contempt. He advanced the violence of the storm, the fury of the waves, + the broken mast, the position of the boat. How could they expect a + woman!.... No. It was as his song had it. And he defended his point of + view angrily, as though he could not bear being robbed of that source of + poetical inspiration. He emitted profound sighs and superb declamations. + </p> + <p> + Castro and I listened to them at the mouth of the cave. Our tongues were + dry and swollen in our mouths, there was the pressure of an iron clutch on + our windpipes, fire in our throats, and the pangs of hunger that tore at + us like iron pincers. But we could hear that the bandits above were + anxious to be gone; they had but very few charges for their guns, and it + was apparent that they were afraid of a collision with the peons of the <i>hacienda</i>. + Glaring at each other with bloodshot, uncertain eyes, Castro and I + imagined longingly a vision of men in <i>ponchos</i> spurring madly out of + the woods, bent low, and swinging <i>riatas</i> over the necks of their + horses—with the thunder of the galloping hoofs in the cave. + Seraphina had withdrawn further into the darkness. And, with a shrinking + fear, I would join her, to eat my heart out by the side of her tense and + mute contemplation. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes Manuel would begin again, “Castro! Castro! Castro!” till he + seemed to stagger the rocks and disturb the placid sunshine with an + immense wave of sound. He called upon his victim to drink once more before + he died. Long shrieks of derision rent the air, as if torn out of his + breast by far greater torments than any his fancy delighted to invent. + There was something terrible and weird in the abundance of words screeched + continuously, without end, as if in desperation. No wonder Castro fled + from the passage. And Seraphina and I, within, would be startled out of + our half-delirious state by the sudden appearance of that old man, + disordered, sordid, with a white beard sprouting, who wandered, weeping + aloud in the twilight. + </p> + <p> + More than once I would stagger off far away into the depths of the cavern + in an access of rage, fling myself on the floor, bite my arms, beat my + head on the rock. I would give myself up. She must be saved from this + tortured death. She had said she would throw herself over if I left her. + But would she have the strength? It was impossible to know. For days it + seemed she had been lying perfectly still, on her side, one hand under her + wan cheek, and only answering “Juan” when I pronounced her name. There was + something awful in our dry whispers. They were lifeless, like the tones of + the dead, if the dead ever speak to each other across the earth separating + the graves. The moral suffering, joined to the physical torture of hunger + and thirst, annihilated my will in a measure, but also kindled a vague, + gnawing feeling of hostility against her. She asked too much of me. It was + too much. And I would drag myself back to sit for hours, and with an + aching heart look towards her couch from a distance. + </p> + <p> + My eyes, accustomed to obscurity, traced an indistinct and recumbent form. + Her forehead was white; her hair merged into the darkness which was + gathering slowly upon her eyes, her cheeks, her throat. She was perfectly + still. It was cruel, it was odious, it was intolerable to be so still. + This must end. I would carry her out by main force. She said no word, but + there was in the embrace of those arms instantly thrown around my neck, in + the feel of those dry lips pressed upon mine, in the emaciated face, in + the big shining eyes of that being as light as a feather, a passionate + mournfulness of seduction, a tenacious clinging to the appointed fate, + that suddenly overawed my movement of rage. I laid her down again, and + covered my face with my hands. She called out to Castro. He reeled, as if + drunk, and waited at the head of her couch, with his chin dropped on his + breast. “<i>Vuestra, Señoria</i>,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “Listen well, Castro.” Her voice was very faint, and each word came alone, + as if shrunk and parched. “Can my gold—the promise of much gold—you + know these men—save the lives...?” + </p> + <p> + He uttered a choked cry, and began to tremble, groping for her hand. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Si, Señorita</i>. Excellency, <i>si</i>. It would. Mercy. Save me. I + am too old to bear this. Gold, yes; much gold. Manuel....” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Castro.... And Don Juan?” His head fell again. “Speak the truth, + Castro.” + </p> + <p> + He struggled with himself; then, rattling in his throat, shrieked “No!” + with a terrible effort. “No. Nothing can save thy English lover.” “Why?” + she breathed feebly. He raged at her in his weakness. Why? Because the + order had gone forth; because they dared not disobey. Because she had only + gold in the palm of her hand, while Señor O’Brien held all their lives in + his. The accursed <i>Juez</i> was for them like death itself that walks + amongst men, taking this one, leaving another. + </p> + <p> + He was their life, and their law, and their safety, and their death—and + the <i>caballero</i> had not killed him.... + </p> + <p> + His voice seemed to wither and dry up gradually in his throat. He crawled + away, and we heard him chuckling horribly somewhere, like a madman. + Seraphina stretched out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Then, Juan—why not together—like this?” + </p> + <p> + If she had the courage of this death, I must have even more. It was a + point of honour. I had no wish, and no right, to seek for some easier way + out of life. But she had a woman’s capacity for passive endurance, a + serenity of mind in this martyrdom confessing to something sinister in the + power of love that, like faith, can move mountains and order cruel + sacrifices. She could have walked out in perfect safety—and it was + that thought that maddened me. And there was no sleep; there were only + intervals in which I could fall into a delirious reverie of still lakes, + of vast sheets of water. I waded into them up to my lips. Never further. + They were smooth and cold as ice; I stood in them shivering and straining + for a draught, burning within with the fire of thirst, while a phantom all + pale, and with its hair streaming, called to me “Courage!” from the brink + in Seraphina’s voice. As to Castro, he was going mad. He was simply going + mad, as people go mad for want of food and drink. And yet he seemed to + keep his strength. He was never still. It was a factitious strength, the + restlessness of incipient insanity. Once, while I was trying to talk with + him about our only hope—the peons—he gave me a look of such + sombre distraction that I left off, intimidated, to wonder vaguely at this + glimpse of something hidden and excessive springing from torments which + surely could be no greater than mine. + </p> + <p> + He had the strength, and sometimes he could find the voice, to hurl abuse, + curses, and imprecations from the mouth of the cave. Great shouts of + laughter exploded above, and they seemed to hold their breath to hear + more; or Manuel, hanging over, would praise in mocking, mellifluous + accents the energy of his denunciations. I tried to pull him away from + there, but he turned upon me fiercely; and from prudence—for all + hope was not dead in me yet—I left him alone. + </p> + <p> + That night I heard him make an extraordinary sound chewing; at the same + time he was sobbing and cursing stealthily. He had found something to eat, + then! I could not believe my ears, but I began to creep towards the sound, + and suddenly there was a short, mad scuffle in the darkness, during which + I nearly spitted myself on his blade. At last, trembling in every limb, + with my blood beating furiously in my ears, I scrambled to my feet, + holding a small piece of meat in my hands. Instantly, without hesitating, + without thinking, I plunged my teeth into it only to fling it far away + from me with a frantic execration. This was the first sound uttered since + we had grappled. Lying prone near me, Castro, with a rattle in his throat, + tried to laugh. + </p> + <p> + This was a supreme touch of Manuel’s art; they were pressed for time, and + he had hit upon that deep and politic invention to hasten the surrender of + his beloved victim. I nearly cried with the fiery pain on my cracked lips. + That piece of half-putrid flesh was salt—horribly salt—salt + like salt itself. Whenever they heard him rave and mutter at the mouth of + the cave, they would throw down these prepared scraps. It was as if I had + put a live coal into my mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” he croaked feebly. “Have you thrown it away? I, too; the first + piece. No matter. I can no more swallow anything, now.” + </p> + <p> + His voice was like the rustling of parchment at my feet. + </p> + <p> + “Do not look for it, Don Juan. The sinners in hell.... Ha! Fiend. I could + not resist.” + </p> + <p> + I sank down by his side. He seemed to be writhing on the floor muttering, + “Thirst—thirst—thirst.” His blade clicked on the rock; then + all was still. Was he dead? Suddenly he began with an amazingly animated + utterance. + </p> + <p> + “Señor! For this they had to kill cattle.” + </p> + <p> + This thought had kept him up. Probably, they had been firing shots. But + there was a way of hamstringing a stalked cow silently; and the plains + were vast, the grass on them was long; the carcasses would lie hidden out + of sight; the herds were rounded up only twice every year. His despairing + voice died out in a mournful fall, and again he was as still as death. + </p> + <p> + “No! I can bear this no longer,” he uttered with force. He refused to bear + it. He suffered too much. There was no hope. He would overwhelm them with + maledictions, and then leap down from the ledge. “<i>Adios, Señor</i>.” + </p> + <p> + I stretched out my arm and caught him by the leg. It seemed to me I could + not part with him. It would have been disloyal, an admission that all was + over, the beginning of the end. We were exhausting ourselves by this sort + of imbecile wrestling. Meantime, I kept on entreating him to be a man; and + at last I managed to clamber upon his chest. “A man!” he sighed. I + released him. For a space, unheard in the darkness, he seemed to be + collecting all his remaining strength. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, those strange <i>Inglez!</i> Why should I not leap? and whom do you + love best or hate more, me or the senorita? Be thou a man, also, and pray + God to give thee reason to understand men for once in thy life. Ha! + Enamoured woman—he is a fool! But I, Castro....” + </p> + <p> + His whispering became appallingly unintelligible, then ceased, passing + into a moan. My will to restrain him abandoned me. He had brought this on + us. And if he really wished to give up the struggle.... + </p> + <p> + “Señor,” he mumbled brokenly, “a thousand thanks. Br-r-r! Oh, the ugly + water—water—water—water—salt water—salt! You + saved me. Why? Let God be the Judge. I would have preferred a malignant + demon for a friend. I forgive you. <i>Adios!</i> And—-Her Excellency—poor + Castro.... Ha! Thou old scorpion, encircled by fire—by fire and + thirst. No. No scorpion, alas! Only a man—not like you—therefore—a + Mass—or two—perhaps....” + </p> + <p> + The freshness of the night penetrated through the arch, as far as the + faint twilight of the day. I heard his tearful muttering creep away from + my side. “Thirst—thirst—thirst.” I did not stir; and an + incredulity, a weariness, the sense of our common fate, mingled with an + unconfessed desire—the desire of seeing what would come of it—a + desire that stirred my blood like a glimmer of hope, and prevented me from + making a movement or uttering a whisper. If his sufferings were so great, + who was I to... Mine, too. I almost envied him. He was free. + </p> + <p> + As if an inward obscurity had parted in two I looked to the very bottom of + my thoughts. And his action appeared like a sacrifice. It could liberate + us two from this cave before it was too late. He, he alone, was the prey + they had trapped. They would be satisfied, probably. Nay! There could be + no doubt. Directly he was dead they would depart. Ah! he wanted to leap. + He must not be allowed. Now that I understood perfectly what this meant, I + had to prevent him. There was no choice. I must stop him at any cost. + </p> + <p> + The awakening of my conscience sent me to my feet; but before I had + stumbled halfway through the passage I heard his shout in the open air, + “Behold me!” + </p> + <p> + A man outside cried excitedly, “He is out!” + </p> + <p> + An exulting tumult fell into the arch, the clash of twenty voices yelling + in different keys, “He is out—the traitor! He is out!” I was too + late, but I made three more hesitating steps and stood blinded. The + flaming branches they were holding over the precipice showered a multitude + of sparks, that fell disappearing continuously in the lurid light, + shutting out the night from the mouth of the cave. And in this light + Castro could be seen kneeling on the other side of the sill. + </p> + <p> + With his fingers clutching the edge of the slab, he hung outwards, his + head falling back, his spine arched tensely, like a bow; and the red + sparks coming from above with the dancing whirl of snowflakes, vanished in + the air before they could settle on his face. + </p> + <p> + “Manuel! Manuel!” + </p> + <p> + They answered with a deep, confused growl, jostling and crowding on the + edge to look down into his eyes. Meantime I stared at the convulsive + heaving of his breast, at his upturned chin, his swelling throat. He + defied Manuel. He would leap. Behold! he was going to leap—to his + own death—in his own time. He challenged them to come down on the + ledge; and the blade of the maimed arm waved to and fro stiffly, point up, + like a red-hot weapon in the light. He devoted them to pestilence, to + English gallows, to the infernal powers: while all the time commenting + murmurs passed over his head, as though he had extorted their sinister + appreciation. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Canalla!</i> dogs, thieves, prey of death, vermin of hell—I spit + on you—like this!” + </p> + <p> + He had not the force, nor the saliva, and remained straining mutely + upwards while they laughed at him all together, with something sombre, and + as if doomed in their derision.... “He will jump! No, he will not!” “Yes! + Leap, Castro! Spit, Castro!” “He will run back into the cave! <i>Maladetta!</i>”... + Manuel’s voiced cooed lovingly on the brink: + </p> + <p> + “Come to us and drink, Castro.” + </p> + <p> + I waited for his leap with doubt, with disbelief, in the helpless + agitation of the weak. Gradually he seemed to relax all over. + </p> + <p> + “Drink deep; drink, and drink, and drink, Castro. Water. Clear water, cool + water. Taste, Castro!” + </p> + <p> + He called on him in tones that were almost tender in their urgency, to + come and drink before he died. His voice seemed to cast a spell, like an + incantation, upon the tubby little figure, with something yearning in the + upward turn of the listening face. + </p> + <p> + “Drink!” Manuel repeated the word several times; then, suddenly he called, + “Taste, Castro, taste,” and a descending brightness, as of a crystal rod + hurled from above, shivered to nothing on the upturned face. The light + disappearing from before the cave seemed scared away by the inhuman + discord of his shriek; and I flung myself forward to lick the splash of + moisture on the sill. I did not think of Castro, I had forgotten him. I + raged at the deception of my thirst, exploring with my tongue the rough + surface of the stone till I tasted my own blood. Only then, raising my + head to gasp, and clench my fists with a baffled and exasperated desire, I + noticed how profound was the silence, in which the words, “Take away his + sting,” seemed to pronounce themselves over the ravine in the impersonal + austerity of the rock, and with the tone of a tremendous decree. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER TEN + </h3> + <p> + He had surrendered to his thirst. What weakness! He had not thrown himself + over, then. What folly! One splash of water on his face had been enough. + He was contemptible; and lying collapsed, in a sort of tormented apathy, + at the mouth of the cave, I despised and envied his good fortune. It could + not save him from death, but at least he drank. I understood this when I + heard his voice, a voice altogether altered—a firm, greedy voice + saying, “More,” breathlessly. And then he drank again. He was drinking. He + was drinking up there in the light of the fire, in a circle of mortal + enemies, under Manuel’s gloating eyes. Drinking! O happiness! O delight! + What a miserable wretch! I clawed the stone convulsively; I think I would + have rushed out for my share if I had not heard Manuel’s cruel and + caressing voice: + </p> + <p> + “How now? You do not want to throw yourself over, my Castro?” + </p> + <p> + “I have drunk,” he said gloomily. + </p> + <p> + I think they must have given him something to eat then. In my mind there + are many blanks in the vision of that scene, a vision built upon a few + words reaching me, suddenly, with great intervals of silence between, as + though I had been coming to myself out of a dead faint now and then. A + ferocious hum of many voices would rise sometimes impatiently, the + scrambling of feet near the edge; or, in a sinister and expectant + stillness, Manuel the artist would be speaking to his “beloved victim + Castro” in a gentle and insinuating voice that seemed to tremble slightly + with eagerness. Had he eaten and drunk enough? They had kept their + promises, he said. They would keep them all. The water had been cool—and + presently he, Manuel-del-Popolo, would accompany with his guitar and his + voice the last moments of his victim. Bursts of laughter punctuated his + banter. Ah! that Manuel, that Manuel! Some actually swore in admiration. + But was Castro really at his ease? Was it not good to eat and drink? Had + he quite returned to life? But, <i>Caramba, amigos</i>, what neglect! The + <i>caballero</i> who has honoured us must smoke. They shouted in high + glee: “Yes. Smoke, Castro. Let him smoke.” I suppose he did; and Manuel + expounded to him how pleasant life was in which one could eat, and drink, + and smoke. His words tortured me. Castro remained mute—from disdain, + from despair, perhaps. Afterwards they carried him along clear of the + cornice, and I understood they formed a half-circle round him, drawing + their knives. Manuel, screeching in a high falsetto, ordered the bonds of + his feet to be cut. I advanced my head out as far as I dared; their voices + reached me deadened; I could only see the profound shadow of the ravine, a + patch of dark clear sky opulent with stars, and the play of the firelight + on the opposite side. The shadow of a pair of monumental feet, and the + lower edge of a cloak, spread amply like a skirt, stood out in it, + intensely black and motionless, right in front of the cave. Now and then, + elbowed in the surge round Castro, the guitar emitted a deep and hollow + resonance. He was tumultuously ordered to stand up and, I imagine, he was + being pricked with the points of their knives till he did get on his feet. + “Jump!” they roared all together—and Manuel began to finger the + strings, lifting up his voice between the gusts of savage hilarity, + mingled with cries of death. He exhorted his followers to close on the + traitor inch by inch, presenting their knives. + </p> + <p> + “He runs here and there, the blood trickling from his limbs—but in + vain, this is the appointed time for the leap....” + </p> + <p> + It was an improvisation; they stamped their feet to the slow measure; they + shouted in chorus the one word “Leap!” raising a ferocious roar; and + between whiles the song of voice and strings came to me from a distance, + softened and lingering in a voluptuous and pitiless cadence that wrung my + heart, and seemed to eat up the remnants of my strength. But what could I + have done, even if I had had the strength of a giant, and a most fearless + resolution? I should have been shot dead before I had crawled halfway up + the ledge. A piercing shriek covered the guitar, the song, and the wild + merriment. + </p> + <p> + Then everything seemed to stop—even my own painful breathing. Again + Castro shrieked like a madman: + </p> + <p> + “Señorita—your gold. Señorita! Hear me! Help!” + </p> + <p> + Then all was still. + </p> + <p> + “Hear the dead calling to the dead,” sneered Manuel. + </p> + <p> + An awestruck sort of hum proceeded from the Spaniards. Was the senorita + alive? In the cave? Or where? + </p> + <p> + “Her nod would have saved thee, Castro,” said Manuel slowly. I got up. I + heard Castro stammer wildly: + </p> + <p> + “She shall fill both your hands with gold. Do you hear, hombres? I, + Castro, tell you—each man—both hands———” + </p> + <p> + He had done it. The last hope was gone now. And all that there remained + for me to do was to leap over or give myself up, and end this horrible + business. + </p> + <p> + “She was a creature born to command the moon and the stars,” Manuel mused + aloud in a vibrating tone, and suddenly smote the strings with emphatic + violence. She could even stay his vengeance. But was it possible! No, no. + It could not be—and yet.... + </p> + <p> + “Thou art alive yet, Castro,” he cried. “Thou hast eaten and drunk; life + is good—is it not, old man?—and the leap is high.” + </p> + <p> + He thundered “Silence!” to still the excited murmurs of his band. If she + lived Castro should live, too—he, Manuel, said so; but he threatened + him with horrible tortures, with two days of slow dying, if he dared to + deceive. Let him, then, speak the truth quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Speak, ‘viejo’. Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + And at the opening, fifty yards away, I was tempted to call out, as though + I had loved Castro well enough to save him from the shame and remorse of a + plain betrayal. That the moment of it had come I could have no doubt. And + it was I myself, perhaps, who could not face the certitude of his + downfall. If my throat had not been so compressed, so dry with thirst and + choked with emotion, I believe I should have cried out and brought them + away from that miserable man with a rush. Since we were lost, he at least + should be saved from this. I suffered from his spasmodic, agonized laugh + away there, with twenty knives aimed at his breast and the eighty-foot + drop of the precipice at his back. Why did he hesitate? + </p> + <p> + I was to learn, then, that the ultimate value of life to all of us is + based on the means of self-deception. Morally he had his back against the + wall, he could not hope to deceive himself; and after Manuel had cried + again at him, “Where are they?” in a really terrible tone, I heard his + answer: + </p> + <p> + “At the bottom of the sea.” + </p> + <p> + He had his own courage after all—if only the courage not to believe + in Manuel’s promises. And he must have been weary of his life—weary + enough not to pay that price. And yet he had gone to the very verge, + calling upon Seraphina as if she could hear him. Madness of fear, no doubt—succeeded + by an awakening, a heroic reaction. And yet sometimes it seems to me as if + the whole scene, with his wild cries for help, had been the outcome of a + supreme exercise of cunning. For, indeed, he could not have invented + anything better to bring the conviction of our death to the most sceptical + of those ruffians. All I heard after his words had been a great shout, + followed by a sudden and unbroken silence. It seemed to last a very long + time. He had thrown himself over! It is like the blank space of a swoon to + me, and yet it must have been real enough, because, huddled up just inside + the sill, with my head reposing wearily on the stone, I watched three + moving flames of lighted branches carried by men follow each other closely + in a swaying descent along the path on the other side of the ravine. They + passed on downwards, flickering out of view. Then, after a time, a voice + below, to the left of the cave, ascended with a hooting and mournful + effect from the depths. + </p> + <p> + “Manuel! Manuel! We have found him!... <i>Es muerte!</i>” + </p> + <p> + And from above Manuel’s shout rolled, augmented, between the rocks. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Bueno!</i> Turn his face up—for the birds!” + </p> + <p> + They continued calling to each other for a good while. The men below + declared their intention of going on to the sea shore; and Manuel shouted + to them not to forget to send him up a good rope early in the morning. + Apparently, the schooner had been refloated some time before; many of the + <i>Lugareños</i> were to sleep on board. They purposed to set sail early + next day. + </p> + <p> + This revived me, and I spent the night between Seraphina’s couch and the + mouth of the cave, keeping tight hold of my reason that seemed to lose + itself in this hope, in this darkness, in this torment. I touched her + cheek, it was hot—while her forehead felt to my fingers as cold as + ice. I had no more voice, but I tried to force out some harsh whispers + through my throat. They sounded horrible to my own ears, and she + endeavoured to soothe me by murmuring my name feebly. I believe she + thought me delirious. I tried to pray for my strength to last till I could + carry her out of that cave to the side of the brook—then let death + come. “Live, live,” I whispered into her ear, and would hear a sigh so + faint, so feeble, that it swayed all my soul with pity and fear, “Yes, + Juan.”... And I would go away to watch for the dawn from the mouth of the + cave, and curse the stars that would not fade. + </p> + <p> + Manuel’s voice always steadied me. A languor had come over them above, as + if their passion had been exhausted; as if their hearts had been saddened + by an unbridled debauch. There was, however, their everlasting + quarrelling. Several of them, I understood, left the camp for the + schooner, but avoiding the road by the ravine as if Castro’s dead body + down there had made it impassable. And the talk went on late into the + night. There was some superstitious fear attached to the cave—a + legend of men who had gone in and had never come back any more. All they + knew of it was the region of twilight; formerly, when they used the + shelter of the cavern, no one, it seems, ever ventured outside the circle + of the fire. Manuel disdained their fears. Had he not been such a profound + politico, a man of stratagems, there would have been a necessity to go + down and see.... They all protested. + </p> + <p> + Who was going down? Not they.... Their craven cowardice was amazing. + </p> + <p> + He begged them to keep themselves quiet. They had him for <i>Capataz</i> + now. A man of intelligence. Had he not enticed Castro out? He had never + believed there was any one else in there. He sighed. Otherwise Castro + would have tried to save his life by confessing. There had been nothing to + confess. But he had the means of making sure. A voice suggested that the + <i>Inglez</i> might have withdrawn himself into the depths. These English + were not afraid of demons, being devils themselves; and this one was + fiendishly reckless. But Manuel observed, contemptuously, that a man + trapped like this would remain near the opening. Hope would keep him there + till he died—unless he rushed out like Castro-Manuel laughed, but in + a mournful tone: and, listening to the craven talk of their doubts and + fears, it seemed to me that if I could appear at one bound amongst them, + they would scatter like chaff before my glance It seemed intolerable to + wait; more than human strength could bear. Would the day never come? A + drowsiness stole upon their voices. + </p> + <p> + Manuel kept watch. He fed the fire, and his incomplete shadow, projected + across the chasm, would pass and return, obscuring the glow that fell on + the rock. His footsteps seemed to measure the interminable duration of the + night. Sometimes he would stop short and talk to himself in low, exalted + mutters. A big bright star rested on the brow of the rock opposite, + shining straight into my eyes. It sank, as if it had plunged into the + stone. At last. Another came to look into the cavern. I watched the + gradual coming of a gray sheen from the side of Seraphina’s couch. This + was the day, the last day of pain, or else of life. Its ghostly edge + invaded slowly the darkness of the cave towards its appointed limit, + creeping slowly, as colourless as spilt water on the floor. I pressed my + lips silently upon her cheek. Her eyes were open. It seemed to me she had + a smile fainter than her sighs. She was very brave, but her smile did not + go beyond her lips. Not a feature of her face moved. I could have opened + my veins for her without hesitation, if it had not been a forbidden + sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + Would they go? I asked myself. Through Castro’s heroism or through his + weakness, perhaps through both the heroism and the weakness of that man, + they must be satisfied. They must be. I could not doubt it; I could not + believe it. Everything seemed improbable; everything seemed possible. If + they descended I would, I thought, have the strength to carry her off, + away into the darkness. If there was any truth in what I had overheard + them saying, that the depths of the cavern concealed an abyss, we would + cast ourselves into it. + </p> + <p> + The feeble, consenting pressure of her hand horrified me. They would not + come down. They were afraid of that place, I whispered to her—and I + thought to myself that such cowardice was incredible. Our fate was sealed. + And yet from what I had heard.... + </p> + <p> + We watched the daylight growing in the opening; at any moment it might + have been obscured by their figures. The tormenting incertitudes of that + hour were cruel enough to overcome, almost, the sensations of thirst, of + hunger, to engender a restlessness that had the effect of renewed vigour. + They were like a nightmare; but that nightmare seemed to clear my mind of + its feverish hallucinations. I was more collected, then, than I had been + for the last forty-eight hours of our imprisonment. But I could not remain + there, waiting. It was absolutely necessary that I should watch at the + entrance for the moment of their departure. + </p> + <p> + The morning was serenely cool and, in its stillness, their talk filled + with clear-cut words the calm air of the ravine. A party—I could not + tell how many—had already come up from the schooner in a great state + of excitement. They feared that their presence had, in some way, become + known to the peons of the <i>hacienda</i>. There was much abuse of a man + called Carneiro, who, the day before, had fired an incautious shot at a + fat cow on one of the inland <i>savannas</i>. They cursed him. Last night, + before the moon rose, those on board the schooner had heard the whinnying + of a horse. Somebody had ridden down to the water’s edge in the darkness + and, after waiting a while, had galloped back the way he came. The prints + of hoofs on the beach showed that. + </p> + <p> + They feared these horsemen greatly. A vengeance was owing for the man + Manuel had killed; and I could guess they talked with their faces over + their shoulders. “And what about finding out whether the <i>Inglez</i> was + there, dead or alive?” asked some. + </p> + <p> + I was sure, now, that they would not come down in a body. It would expose + them to the danger of being caught in the cavern by the peons. There was + no time for a thorough search, they argued. + </p> + <p> + For the first time that morning I heard Manuel’s voice, “Stand aside.” + </p> + <p> + He came down to the very brink. + </p> + <p> + “If the <i>Inglez</i> is down there, and if he is alive, he is listening + to us now.” + </p> + <p> + He was as certain as though he had been able to see me. He added: + </p> + <p> + “But there’s no one.” + </p> + <p> + “Go and look, Manuel,” they cried. + </p> + <p> + He said something in a tone of contempt. The Voices above my head sank + into busy murmurs. + </p> + <p> + “Give me the rope here,” he said aloud. + </p> + <p> + I had a feeling of some inconceivable danger nearing me; and in my state + of weakness I began to tremble, backing away from the orifice. I had no + strength in my limbs. I had no weapons. How could I fight? I would use my + teeth. With a light knocking against the rock above the arch, Williams’ + flask, tied by its green cord to the end of a thick rope, descended + slowly, and hung motionless before the entrance. + </p> + <p> + It had been freshly filled with water; it was dripping wet outside, and + the silver top, struck by the sunbeams, dazzled my eyes. + </p> + <p> + This was the danger—this bait. And it seems to me that if I had had + the slightest inkling of what was coming, I should have rushed at it + instantly. But it took me some time to understand—to take in the + idea that this was water, there, within reach of my hand. With a great + effort I resisted the madness that incited me to hurl myself upon the + flask. I hung back with all my power. A convulsive spasm contracted my + throat. I turned about and fled out of the passage. + </p> + <p> + I ran to Seraphina. “Put out your hand to me,” I panted in the darkness. + “I need your help.” + </p> + <p> + I felt it resting lightly on my bowed head. She did not even ask me what I + meant; as if the greatness of her soul was omniscient. There was, in that + silence, a supreme unselfishness, the unquestioning devotion of a woman. + </p> + <p> + “Patience, patience,” I kept on muttering. I was losing confidence in + myself. If only I had been free to dash my head against the rock. I had + the courage for that, yet. But this was a situation from which there was + no issue in death. + </p> + <p> + “We are saved,” I murmured distractedly. + </p> + <p> + “Patience,” she breathed out. Her hand slipped languidly off my head. + </p> + <p> + And I began to creep away from her side. I am here to tell the truth. I + began to creep away towards the flask. I did not confess this to myself; + but I know now. There was a devilish power in it. I have learned the + nature of feelings in a man whom Satan beguiles into selling his soul—the + horror of an irresistible and fatal longing for a supreme felicity. And in + a drink of water for me, then, there was a greater promise than in + universal knowledge, in unbounded power, in unlimited wealth, in + imperishable youth. What could have been these seductions to a drink? No + soul had thirsted after things unlawful as my parched throat thirsted for + water. No devil had ever tempted a man with such a bribe of perdition. + </p> + <p> + I suffered from the lucidity of my feelings. I saw, with indignation, my + own wretched self being angled for like a fish. And with all that, in my + forlorn state, I remained prudent. I did not rush out blindly. No. I + approached the inner end of the passage, as though I had been stalking a + wild creature, slowly, from the side. I crept along the wall of the + cavern, and protruded my head far enough to look at the fiendish + temptation. + </p> + <p> + There it was, a small dark object suspended in the light, with the yellow + rock across the ravine for a background. The silver top shivered the + sunbeams brilliantly. I had half hopes they had taken it away by this + time. When I drew my head back I lost sight of it, but all my being went + out to it with an almost pitiful longing. I remembered Castro for the + first time in many hours. Was I nothing better than Castro? He had been + angled for with salted meat. I shuddered. A darkness fell into the + passage. I put down my uplifted foot without advancing. The unexpectedness + of that shadow saved me, I believe. Manuel had descended the cornice. + </p> + <p> + He was alone. Standing before the outer opening, he darkened the passage, + through which his talk to the people above came loudly into my ears. They + could see now if he were not a worthy <i>Capataz</i>. If the <i>Inglez</i> + was in there he was a corpse. And yet, of these living hearts above, of + these <i>valientes</i> of Rio Medio, there was not one who would go alone + to look upon a dead body. He had contrived an infallible test, and yet + they would not believe him. Well, his valiance should prove it; his + valiance, afraid neither of light nor of darkness. + </p> + <p> + I could not hear the answers he got from up there; but the vague sounds + that reached me carried the usual commingling of derision and applause, + the resentment of their jeers at the admiration he knew how to extort by + the display of his talents. + </p> + <p> + They must kill the cattle, these <i>caballeros</i>. He scolded ironically. + Of course. They must feed on meat like lions; but their souls were like + the souls of hens born on dunghills. And behold! there was he, Manuel, not + afraid of shadows. + </p> + <p> + He was coming in, there could be no doubt. Out there in the full light, he + could not possibly have detected that rapid appearance of my head darted + forward and withdrawn at once; but I had a view of his arm putting aside + the swinging flask, of his leg raised to step over the high sill. I saw + him, and I ran noiselessly away from the opening. + </p> + <p> + I had the time to charge Seraphina not to move, on our lives—on the + wretched remnant of our lives—when his black shape stood in the + frame of the opening, edged with a thread of light following the contour + of his hat, of his shoulders, of his whole body down to his feet—whence + a long shadow fell upon the pool of twilight on the floor. + </p> + <p> + What had made him come down? Vanity? The exacting demands of his + leadership? Fear of O’Brien? The <i>Juez</i> would expect to hear + something definite, and his band pretended not to believe in the stratagem + of the bottle. I think that, for his part, from his knowledge of human + nature, he never doubted its efficacy. He could not guess how very little, + only, he was wrong. How very little! And yet he seemed rooted in + incertitude on the threshold. His head turned from side to side. I could + not make out his face as he stood, but the slightest of his movements did + not escape me. He stepped aside, letting in all the fullness of the light. + </p> + <p> + Would he have the courage to explore at least the immediate neighbourhood + of the opening? Who could tell his complex motives? Who could tell his + purpose or his fears? He had killed a man in there once. But, then, he had + not been alone. If he were only showing off before his unruly band, he + need not stir a step further. He did not advance. He leaned his shoulders + against the rock just clear of the opening. One half of him was lighted + plainly; his long profile, part of his raven locks, one listless hand, his + crossed legs, the buckle of one shoe. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody,” he pronounced slowly, in a dead whisper. + </p> + <p> + While I looked at him, the profound <i>politico</i>, the artist, the + everlastingly questioned <i>Capataz</i>, the man of talent and ability, he + thought himself alone, and allowed his head to drop on his breast, as if + saddened by the vanity of human ambition. Then, lifting it with a jerk, he + listened with one ear turned to the passage; afterwards he peered into the + cavern. Two long strides, over the cold heap of ashes, brought him to the + stone seat. + </p> + <p> + It was very plain to me from his starting movements and attitudes, that he + shared his uneasy attention between the inside and the outside of the + cave. He sat down, but seemed ready to jump up; and I saw him turn his + eyes upwards to the dark vault, as if on the alert for a noise from above. + I am inclined to think he was expecting to hear the galloping hoofs of the + peons’ horses every moment. I think he did. The words “I am safer here + than they above,” were perfectly audible to me in the mumbling he kept up + nervously. He wished to hear the sound of his own voice, as a timid person + whistles and talks on a lonely road at night. Only the year before he had + killed a man in that cavern, under circumstances that were, I believe, + revolting even to the honour of these bandits. He sat there between the + shadow of his murder and the reality of the vengeance. I asked myself what + could be the outcome of a struggle with him. He was armed; he was not + weakened by hunger; but he stood between us and the water. My thirst would + give me strength; the desire to end Seraphina’s sufferings would make me + invincible. On the other hand, it was dangerous to interfere. I could not + tell whether they would not try to find out what became of him. It was + safest to let him go. It was extremely improbable that they would sail + without him. + </p> + <p> + I am not conscious of having stirred a limb; neither had Seraphina moved, + I am ready to swear; but plainly something, some sort of sound, startled + him. He bounded out of his seated immobility, and in one leap had his + shoulders against the rock standing at bay before the darkness, with his + knife in his hand. I wonder he did not surprise me into an exclamation. I + was as startled as himself. His teeth and the whites of his eyes gleamed + straight at me from afar; he hissed with fear; for an instant I was firmly + convinced he had seen me. All this took place so quickly that I had no + time to make one movement towards receiving his attack, when I saw him + make a great sign of the cross in the air with the point of his dagger. + </p> + <p> + He sheathed it slowly, and sidled along the few feet to the entrance, his + shoulders rubbing the wall. He blocked out the light, and in a moment had + backed out of sight. + </p> + <p> + Before he got to the further end I was already, at the inner, creeping + after him. I had started at once, as if his disappearance had removed a + spell, as though he had drawn me after him by an invisible bond. Raising + myself on my forearms I saw him, from his knees up, standing outside the + sill, with his back to the precipice and his face turned up. + </p> + <p> + “There is nobody in there,” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + I sank down and wriggled forward on my stomach, raising myself on my + elbows, now and then, to look. Manuel was looking upwards conversing with + the people above, and holding Williams’ flask in both his hands. He never + once glanced into the passage; he seemed to be trying to undo the cord + knotted to the end of the thick rope, which hung in a long bight before + him. The flask captured my eyes, my thought, my energy. I would tear it + away from him directly. There was in me, then, neither fear nor + intelligence; only the desire of possessing myself of the thing; but an + instinctive caution prevented my rushing out violently. I proceeded with + an animal-like stealthiness, with which cool reason had nothing to do. + </p> + <p> + He had some difficulty with the knot, and evidently did not wish to cut + the green silk cord. How well I remember his fumbling fingers. He sat down + sideways on the sill, with his legs outside, of course, his face and hands + turned to the light, very absorbed in his endeavour. They shouted to him + from above. + </p> + <p> + “I come at once,” he cried to them, without lifting his head. + </p> + <p> + I had crept up almost near enough to grab the flask. It never occurred to + me that by flinging myself on him, I could have pushed him off the sill. + My only idea was to get hold. He did not exist for me. The leather-covered + bottle was the only real thing in the world. I was completely insane. I + heard a faint detonation, and Manuel got up quickly from the sill. The + flask was out of my reach. + </p> + <p> + There were more popping sounds of shots fired, away on the plain. The + peons were attacking an outpost of the <i>Lugareños</i>. A deep voice + cried, “They are driving them in.” Then several together yelled: + </p> + <p> + “Come away, Manuel. Come away. <i>Por Dios....</i>” + </p> + <p> + Stretched at full length in the passage, and sustaining myself on my + trembling arms, I gazed up at him. He stood very rigid, holding the flask + in both hands. Several muskets were discharged together just above, and in + the noise of the reports I remember a voice crying urgently over the edge, + “Manuel! Manuel!” The shadow of irresolution passed over his features. He + hesitated whether to run up the ledge or bolt into the cave. He shouted + something. He was not answered, but the yelling and the firing ceased + suddenly, as if the <i>Lugareños</i> had given up and taken to their + heels. I became aware of a sort of increasing throbbing sound that seemed + to come from behind me, out of the cave; then, as Manuel lifted his foot + hastily to step over the sill, I jumped up deliriously, and with + outstretched hands lurched forward at the flask in his fingers. + </p> + <p> + I believe I laughed at him in an imbecile manner. + </p> + <p> + Somebody laughed; and I remember the superior smile on his face passing + into a ghastly grin, that disappeared slowly, while his astonished eyes, + glaring at that gaunt and dishevelled apparition rising before him in the + dusk of the passage, seemed to grow to an enormous size. He drew back his + foot, as though it had been burnt; and in a panic-stricken impulse, he + flung the flask straight into my face, and staggered away from the sill. + </p> + <p> + I made a catch at it with a scream of triumph, whose unearthly sound + brought me back to my senses. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of God, retire,” he cried, as though I had been an apparition + from another world. + </p> + <p> + What took place afterwards happened with an inconceivable rapidity, in + less time than it takes to draw breath. He never recognized me. I saw his + glare of incredulous awe change, suddenly, to horror and despair. He had + felt himself losing his balance. + </p> + <p> + He had stepped too far back. He tried to recover himself, but it was too + late. He hung for a moment in his backward fall; his arms beat the air, + his body curled upon itself with an awful striving. All at once he went + limp all over, and, with the sunlight full upon his upturned face, + vanished downwards from my sight. + </p> + <p> + But at the last moment he managed to clutch the bight of the hanging rope. + The end of it must have been lying quite loose on the ground above, for I + saw its whole length go whizzing after him, in the twinkling of an eye. I + pressed the flask fiercely to my breast, raging with the thought that he + could yet tear it out of my hands; but by the time the strain came, his + falling body had acquired such a velocity that I didn’t feel the slightest + jerk when the green cord snapped—no more than if it had been the + thread of a cobweb. + </p> + <p> + I confess that tears, tears of gratitude, were running down my face. My + limbs trembled. But I was sane enough not to think of myself any more. + </p> + <p> + “Drink! Drink,” I stammered, raising Seraphina’s head on my shoulder, + while the galloping horses of the peons in hot pursuit passed with a + thundering rumble above us. Then all was still. + </p> + <p> + Our getting out of the cave was a matter of unremitting toil, through what + might have been a year of time; the recollection is of an arduous + undertaking, accomplished without the usual incentives of men’s activity. + Necessity, alone, remained; the iron necessity without the glamour of + freedom of choice, of pride. + </p> + <p> + Our unsteady feet crushed, at last, the black embers of the fires + scattered by the hoofs of horses; and the plain appeared immense to our + weakness, swept of shadows by the high sun, lonely and desolate as the + sea. We looked at the litter of the <i>Lugareños’ </i>camp, rags on the + trodden grass, a couple of abandoned blankets, a musket thrown away in the + panic, a dirty red sash lying on a heap of sticks, a wooden bucket from + the schooner, smashed water-gourds. One of them remained miraculously + poised on its round bottom and full to the brim, while everything else + seemed to have been overturned, torn, scattered haphazard by a furious + gust of wind. A scaffolding of poles, for drying strips of meat, had been + knocked over; I found nothing there except bits of hairy hide; but lumps + of scorched flesh adhered to the white bones scattered amongst the ashes + of the camp—and I thanked God for them. + </p> + <p> + We averted our eyes from our faces in very love, and we did not speak from + pity for each other. There was no joy in our escape, no relief, no sense + of freedom. The <i>Lugareños</i> and the peons, the pursued and the + pursuers, had disappeared from the upland without leaving as much as a + corpse in view. There were no moving things on the earth, no bird soared + in the pellucid air, not even a moving cloud on the sky. The sun declined, + and the rolling expanse of the plain frightened us, as if space had been + something alive and hostile. + </p> + <p> + We walked away from that spot, as if our feet had been shod in lead; and + we hugged the edge of the cruel ravine, as one keeps by the side of a + friend. We must have been grotesque, pathetic, and lonely; like two people + newly arisen from a tomb, shrinking before the strangeness of the + half-forgotten face of the world. And at the head of the ravine we + stopped. + </p> + <p> + The sensation of light, vastness, and solitude, rolled upon our souls + emerging from the darkness, overwhelmingly, like a wave of the sea. We + might have been an only couple sent back from the underworld to begin + another cycle of pain on a depopulated earth. It had not for us even the + fitful caress of a breeze; and the only sound of greeting was the angry + babble of the brook dashing down the stony slope at our feet. + </p> + <p> + We knelt over it to drink deeply and bathe our faces. Then looking about + helplessly, I discovered afar the belt of the sea inclosed between the + undulating lines of the dunes and the straight edge of the horizon. I + pointed my arm at the white sails of the schooner creeping from under the + land, and Seraphina, resting her head on my shoulder, shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go away from here.” + </p> + <p> + Our necessity pointed down the slope. We could not think of another way, + and the extent of the plain with its boundary of forests filled us with + the dread of things unknown. But, by getting down to the inlet of the sea, + and following the bank of the little river, we were sure to reach the <i>hacienda</i>, + if only a hope could buoy our sinking hearts long enough. + </p> + <p> + From our first step downwards the hard, rattling noise of the stones + accompanied our descent, growing in volume, bewildering our minds. We had + missed the indistinct beginning of the trail on the side of the ravine, + and had to follow the course of the stream. A growth of wiry bushes sprang + thickly between the large fragments of fallen rocks. On our right the + shadows were beginning to steal into the chasm. Towering on our left the + great stratified wall caught at the top of the glow of the low sun in a + rich, tawny tint, right under the dark blue strip of sky, that seemed to + reflect the gloom of the ravine, the sepulchral arid gloom of deep shadows + and gray rocks, through which the shallow torrent dashed violently with + glassy gleams between the sombre masses of vegetation. + </p> + <p> + We pushed on through the bunches of tough twigs; the massive boulders + closed the view on every side; and Seraphina followed me with her hands on + my shoulders. This was the best way in which I could help her descent till + the declivity became less steep; and then I went ahead, forcing a path for + her. Often we had to walk into the bed of the stream. It was icy cold. + Some strange beast, perhaps a bird, invisible somewhere, emitted from time + to time a faint and lamentable shriek. It was a wild scene, and the + orifice of the cave appeared as an inaccessible black hole some ninety + feet above our heads. + </p> + <p> + Then, as I stepped round a large fragment of rock, my eyes fell on + Manuel’s body. + </p> + <p> + Seraphina was behind me. With a wave of my hand I arrested her. It had not + occurred to me before that, following the bottom of the ravine, we must + come upon the two bodies. Castro’s was lower down, of course. I would have + spared her the sight, but there was no retracing our steps. We had no + strength and no time. Manuel was lying on his back with his hands under + him, and his feet nearly in the brook. + </p> + <p> + The lower portion of the rope made a heap of cordage on the ground near + him, but a great length of it hung perpendicularly above his head. The + loose end he had snatched over the edge of his fall had whipped itself + tight round the stem of a dwarf tree growing in a crevice high up the + rock; and as he fell below, the jerk must have checked his descent, and + had prevented him from alighting on his head. There was not a sign of + blood anywhere upon him or on the stones. His eyes were shut. He might + have lain down to sleep there, in our way; only from the slightly + unnatural twist in the position of his arms and legs, I saw, at a glance, + that all his limbs were broken. + </p> + <p> + On the other side of the boulder Seraphina called to me, and I could not + answer her, so great was the shock I received in seeing the flutter of his + slowly opening eyelids. + </p> + <p> + He still lived, then! He looked at me! It was an awful discovery to make, + and the contrast of his anxious and feverish stare with the collapsed + posture of his body was full of intolerable suggestions of fate blundering + unlawfully, of death itself being conquered by pain. I looked away only to + perceive something pitiless, belittling, and cruel in the precipitous + immobility of the sheer walls, in the dark funereal green of the foliage, + in the falling shadows, in the remoteness of the sky. + </p> + <p> + The unconsciousness of matter hinted at a weird and mysterious antagonism. + All the inanimate things seemed to have conspired to throw in our way this + man just enough alive to feel pain. The faint and lamentable sounds we had + heard must have come from him. He was looking at me. It was impossible to + say whether he saw anything at all. He barred our road with his remnant of + life; but, when suddenly he spoke, my heart stood still for a moment in my + motionless body. + </p> + <p> + “You, too!” he droned awfully. “Behold! I have been precipitated, alive, + into this hell by another ghost. Nothing else could have overcome the + greatness of my spirit.” + </p> + <p> + His red shirt was torn open at the throat. His bared breast began to + heave. He cried out with pain. Ready to fly from him myself, I shouted to + Seraphina to keep away. + </p> + <p> + But it was too late. Imagining I had seen some new danger in our path, she + had advanced to stand by my side. + </p> + <p> + “He is dying,” I muttered in distraction. “We can do nothing.” + </p> + <p> + But could we pass him by before he died? “This is terrible,” said + Seraphina. + </p> + <p> + My real hope had been that, after driving the <i>Lugareños</i> away, the + peons would off-saddle near the little river to rest themselves and their + horses. This is why I had almost pitilessly hurried Seraphina, after we + had left the cave, down the steep but short descent of the ravine. I had + kept to myself my despairing conviction that we could never reach the <i>hacienda</i> + unaided, even if we had known the way. I had pretended confidence in + ourselves, but all my trust was in the assistance I expected to get from + these men. I understood so well the slenderness of that hope that I had + not dared to mention it to her and to propose she should wait for me on + the upland, while I went down by myself on that quest. I could not bear + the fear of returning unsuccessful only to find her dead. That is, if I + had the strength to return after such a disappointment. + </p> + <p> + And the idea of her, waiting for me in vain, then wandering off, perhaps + to fall under a bush and die alone, was too appalling to contemplate. That + we must keep together, at all costs, was like a point of honour, like an + article of faith with us—confirmed by what we had gone through + already. It was like a law of existence, like a creed, like a defence + which, once broken, would let despair upon our heads. I am sure she would + not have consented to even a temporary separation. She had a sort of + superstitious feeling that, should we be forced apart, even to the + manifest saving of our lives, we would lay ourselves open to some calamity + worse than mere death could be. + </p> + <p> + I loved her enough to share that feeling, but with the addition of a man’s + half-unconscious selfishness. I needed her indomitable frailness to prop + my grosser strength. I needed that something not wholly of this world, + which women’s more exalted nature infuses into their passions, into their + sorrows, into their joys; as if their adventurous souls had the power to + range beyond the orbit of the earth for the gathering of their love, their + hate—and their charity. + </p> + <p> + “He calls for death,” she said, shrinking with horror and pity before the + mutters of the miserable man at our feet. Every moment of daylight was of + the utmost importance, if we were to save our freedom, our happiness, our + very lives; and we remained rooted to the spot. For it seemed as though, + at last, he had attained the end of his enterprise. He had captured us, as + if by a very cruel stratagem. + </p> + <p> + A drowsiness would come at times over those big open eyes, like a film + through which a blazing glance would break out now and then. He had + recognized us perfectly; but, for the most part, we seemed to him to be + the haunting ghosts of his inferno. + </p> + <p> + “You came from heaven,” he raved feebly, rolling his straining eyes + towards Seraphina. His internal injuries must have been frightful. Perhaps + he dared not shift his head—the only movement that was in his power. + “I reached up to the very angels in the inspiration of my song,” he + droned, “and would be called a demon on earth. <i>Manuel el Demonio</i>. + And now precipitated alive.... Nothing less. There is a greatness in me. + Let some dew fall upon my lips.” + </p> + <p> + He moaned from the very bottom of his heart. His teeth chattered. + </p> + <p> + “The blessed may not know anything of the cold and thirst of this place. A + drop of dew—as on earth you used to throw alms to the poor from your + coach—for the love of God.” + </p> + <p> + She sank on the stones nearer to him than I would willingly have done, + brave as a woman, only, can be before the atrocious depths of human + misery. I leaned my shoulders against the boulder and crossed my arms on + my breast, as if giving up an unequal struggle. Her hair was loose, her + dress stained with ashes, torn by brambles; the darkness of the cavern + seemed to linger in her hollow cheeks, in her sunken temples. + </p> + <p> + “He is thirsty,” she murmured to me. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said. + </p> + <p> + She tore off a strip of her dress, dipped it in the running water at her + side, and approached it, all dripping, to his lips which closed upon it + with avidity. The walls of the rock looked on implacably, but the rushing + stream seemed to hurry away, as if from an accursed spot. + </p> + <p> + “Dew from heaven,” he sighed out. + </p> + <p> + “You are on earth, Manuel,” she said. “You are given time to repent. This + is earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible,” he muttered with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + He had forced his human fellowship upon us, this man whose ambition it had + been to be called demon on the earth. He held us by the humanity of his + broken frame, by his human glance, by his human voice. I wonder if, had I + been alone, I would have passed on as reason dictated, or have had the + courage of pity and finished him off, as he demanded. Whenever he became + aware of our presence, he addressed me as “Thou, English ghost,” and + directed me, in a commanding voice, to take a stone and crush his head, + before I went back to my own torments. I withdrew, at last, where he could + not see me; but Seraphina never flinched in her task of moistening his + lips with the strip of cloth she dipped in the brook, time after time, + with a sublime perseverance of compassion. + </p> + <p> + It made me silent. Could I have stood there and recited the sinister + detail of that man’s crimes, in the hope that she would recoil from him to + pursue the road of safety? It was not his evil, but his suffering that + confronted us now. The sense of our kinship emerged out of it like a fresh + horror after we had escaped the sea, the tempest; after we had resisted + untold fatigues, hunger, thirst, despair. We were vanquished by what was + in us, not in him. I could say nothing. The light ebbed out of the ravine. + The sky, like a thin blue veil stretched between the earth and the spaces + of the universe, filtered the gloom of the darkness beyond. + </p> + <p> + I thought of the invisible sun ready to set into the sea, of the peons + riding away, and of our helpless, hopeless state. + </p> + <p> + “For the love of God,” he mumbled. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for the love of God,” I heard her expressionless voice repeat. And + then there was only the greedy sound of his lips sucking at the cloth, and + the impatient ripple of the stream. + </p> + <p> + “Come, death,” he sighed. + </p> + <p> + Yes, come, I thought, to release him and to set us free. All my prayer, + now, was that we should be granted the strength to struggle from under the + malignant frown of these crags, to close our eyes forever in the open. + </p> + <p> + And the truth is that, had we gone on, we should have found no one by the + sea. The routed <i>Lugareños</i> had been able to embark under cover of a + fusillade from those on board the schooner. All that would have met our + despair, at the end of our toilsome march, would have been three dead + pirates lying on the sand. The main body of the peons had gone, already, + up the valley of the river with their few wounded. There would have been + nothing for us to do but to stumble on and on upon their track, till we + lay down never to rise again. They did not draw rein once, between the sea + and the <i>hacienda</i>, sixteen miles away. + </p> + <p> + About the time when we began our descent into the ravine, two of the + peons, detached from the main body for the purpose of observing the + schooner from the upland, had topped the edge of the plain. We had then + penetrated into Manuel’s inferno, too deep to be seen by them. These men + spent some time lying on the grass, and watching over the dunes the course + of the schooner on the open sea. Their horses were grazing near them. The + wind was light; they waited to see the vessel far enough down the coast to + make any intention of return improbable. + </p> + <p> + It was Manuel who saved our lives, defeating his own aim to the bitter + end. Had not his vanity, policy, or the necessity of his artistic soul, + induced him to enter the cave; had not his cowardice prevented him joining + the <i>Lugareños</i> above, at the moment of the attack; had he not + recoiled violently in a superstitious fear before my apparition at the + mouth of the cave—we should have been released from our entombment, + only to look once more at the sun. He paid the price of our ransom, to the + uttermost farthing, in his lingering death. Had he killed himself on the + spot, he would have taken our only slender chance with him into that + nether world where he imagined himself to have been “precipitated alive.” + Finding him dead, we should have gone on. Less than ten minutes, no more + than another ten paces beyond the spot, we should have been hidden from + sight in the thickets of denser growth in the lower part of the ravine. I + doubt whether we should have been able to get through; but, even so, we + should have been going away from the only help within our reach. We should + have been lost. + </p> + <p> + The two <i>vaqueros</i>, after seeing the schooner hull down under the + low, fiery sun of the west, mounted and rode home over the plain, making + for the head of the ravine, as their way lay. And, as they cantered along + the side opposite to the cave, one of them caught sight of the length of + rope dangling down the precipice. They pulled up at once. + </p> + <p> + The first I knew of their nearness was the snorting of a horse forced + towards the edge of the chasm. I saw the animal’s forelegs planted tensely + on the very brink, and the body of the rider leaning over his neck to look + down. And, when I wished to shout, I found I could not produce the + slightest sound. + </p> + <p> + The man, rising in his stirrups, the reins in one hand and turning up the + brim of his sombrero with the other, peered down at us over the pricked + ears of his horse. I pointed over my head at the mouth of the cave, then + down at Seraphina, lifting my hands to show that I was unarmed. I opened + my lips wide. Surprise, agitation, weakness, had robbed me of every + vestige of my voice. I beckoned downwards with a desperate energy, Horse + and rider remained perfectly still, like an equestrian statue set up on + the edge of a precipice. Sera-phina had never raised her head. + </p> + <p> + The man’s intent scrutiny could not have mistaken me for a <i>Lugareno</i>. + I think he gazed so long because he was amazed to discover down there a + woman on her knees, stooping over a prostrate body, and a bareheaded man + in a ragged white shirt and black breeches, reeling between the bushes and + gesticulating violently, like an excited mute. But how a rope came to hang + down from a tree, growing in a position so inaccessible that only a bird + could have attached it there struck him as the most mysterious thing of + all. He pointed his finger at it interrogatively, and I answered this + inquiring sign by indicating the stony slope of the ravine. It seemed as + if he could not speak for wonder. After a while he sat back in his saddle, + gave me an encouraging wave of the hand, and wheeled his horse away from + the brink. + </p> + <p> + It was as if we had been casting a spell of extinction on each other’s + voices. No sooner had he disappeared than I found mine. I do not suppose + it was very loud but, at my aimless screech, Seraphina looked upwards on + every side, saw no one anywhere, and remained on her knees with her eyes, + full of apprehension, fixed upon me. + </p> + <p> + “No! I am not mad, dearest,” I said. “There was a man. He has seen us.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Juan!” she faltered out, “pray with me that God may have mercy on + this poor wretch and let him die.” + </p> + <p> + I said nothing. My thin, quavering scream after the peon had awakened + Manuel from his delirious dream of an inferno. The voice that issued from + his shattered body was awfully measured, hollow, and profound. + </p> + <p> + “You live!” he uttered slowly, turning his eyes full upon my face, and, as + if perceiving for the first time in me the appearance of a living man. + “Ha! You English walk the earth unscathed.” + </p> + <p> + A feeling of pity came to me—a pity distinct from the harrowing + sensations of his miserable end. He had been evil in the obscurity of his + life, as there are plants growing harmful and deadly in the shade, drawing + poison from the dank soil on which they flourish. He was as unconscious of + his evil as they—but he had a man’s right to my pity. + </p> + <p> + “I am b—roken,” he stammered out. + </p> + <p> + Seraphina kept on moistening his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Repent, Manuel,” she entreated fervently. “We have forgiven thee the evil + done to us. Repent of thy crimes—poor man.” + </p> + <p> + “Your voice, Señorita. What? You! You yourself bringing this blessing to + my lips! In your childhood I cried ‘<i>viva</i>’ many times before your + coach. And now you deign—in your voice—with your hand. Ha! I + could improvise—The star stoops to the crushed worm....” + </p> + <p> + A rising clatter of rolling stones mingled from afar with the broken + moanings of his voice. Looking over my shoulder, I saw one peon beginning + the descent of the slope, and, higher up, motionless between the heads of + two horses, the head of another man—with the purple tint of an + enlarged sky beyond, reflecting the glow of an invisible sun setting into + the sea. + </p> + <p> + Manuel cried out piercingly, and we shuddered. Seraphina shrank close to + my side, hiding her head on my breast. The peon staggered awkwardly down + the slope, descending sideways in small steps, embarrassed by the enormous + rowels of his spurs. He had a striped <i>serape</i> over his shoulder, and + grasped a broad-bladed <i>machete</i> in his right hand. His stumbling, + cautious feet sent into the ravine a crashing sound, as though we were to + be buried under a stream of stones. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Vuestra Señoria</i>” gasped Manuel. “I shall be silent. Pity me! Do + not—do not withdraw your hand from my extreme pain.” + </p> + <p> + I felt she had to summon all her courage to look at him again. She + disengaged herself, resolutely, from my enfolding arms. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; unfortunate man,” she said, in a benumbed voice. “Think of thy + end.” + </p> + <p> + “A crushed worm, senorita,” he mumbled. + </p> + <p> + The peon, having reached the bottom of the slope, became lost to view + amongst the bushes and the great fragments of rocks below. Every sound in + the ravine was hushed; and the darkening sky seemed to cast the shadow of + an everlasting night into the eyes of the dying man. + </p> + <p> + Then the peon came out, pushing through, in a great swish of parted + bushes. His spurs jingled at every step, his footfalls crunched heavily on + the pebbles. He stopped, as if transfixed, muttering his astonishment to + himself, but asking no questions. He was a young man with a thin black + moustache twisted gallantly to two little points. He looked up at the + sheer wall of the precipice; he looked down at the group we formed at his + feet. Suddenly, as if returning from an abyss of pain, Manuel declared + distinctly: + </p> + <p> + “I feel in me a greatness, an inspiration....” + </p> + <p> + These were his last words. The heavy dark lashes descended slowly upon the + faint gleam of the eyeballs, like a lowered curtain. The deep folds of the + ravine gathered the falling dusk into great pools of absolute blackness, + at the foot of the crags. + </p> + <p> + Rising high above our littleness, that watched, fascinated, the struggle + of lights and shadows over the soul entangled in the wreck of a man’s + body, the rocks had a monumental indifference. And between their great, + stony faces, turning pale in the gloom, with the amazed peon as if + standing guard, <i>machete</i> in hand, Manuel’s greatness and his + inspiration passed away without as much as an exhaled sigh. I did not even + know that he had ceased to breathe, till Seraphina rose from her knees + with a low cry, and flung far away from her, nervously, the strip of cloth + upon which his parted lips had refused to close. + </p> + <p> + My arms were ready to receive her. “Ah! At last!” she cried. There was + something resentful and fierce in that cry, as though the pity of her + woman’s heart had been put to too cruel a test. + </p> + <p> + I, too, had been humane to that man. I had had his life on the end of my + pistol, and had spared him from an impulse that had done nothing but + withhold from him the mercy of a speedy death. This had been my pity. + </p> + <p> + But it was Seraphina’s cry—this “At last,” showing the stress and + pain of the ordeal—that shook my faith in my conduct. It had brought + upon our heads a retribution of mental and bodily anguish, like a criminal + weakness. I was young, and my belief in the justice of life had received a + shock. If it were impossible to foretell the consequences of our acts, if + there were no safety in the motives within ourselves, what remained for + our guidance? + </p> + <p> + And the inscrutable immobility of towering forms, steeped in the shadows + of the chasm, appeared pregnant with a dreadful wisdom. It seemed to me + that I would never have the courage to lift my hand, open my lips, make a + step, obey a thought. A long sun-ray shot to the zenith from the beclouded + west, crossing obliquely in a faint red bar the purple band of sky above + the ravine. + </p> + <p> + The young <i>vaquero</i> had taken off his hat before the might of death, + and made a perfunctory sign of the cross. He looked up and down the lofty + wall, as if it could give him the word of that riddle. Twice his spurs + clashed softly, and, with one hand grasping the rope, he stooped low in + the twilight over the body. + </p> + <p> + “We looked for this <i>Lugareño</i>,” he said, replacing his hat on his + head carelessly. “He was a mad singer, and I saw him once kill one of us + very swiftly. They used to call him in jest, <i>El Demonio</i>. Ah! But + you... But you....” + </p> + <p> + His wonder overcame him. His bewildered eyes glimmered, staring at us in + the deepening dusk. + </p> + <p> + “Speak, <i>hombre</i>,” he cried. “Who are you and who is she? Whence came + you? Where are you going with this woman?...” + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER ELEVEN + </h3> + <p> + Not a soul stirred in the one long street of the negro village. The yellow + crescent of the diminished moon swam low in the pearly light of the dawn; + and the bamboo walls of huts, thatched with palm leaves, glistened here + and there through the great leaves of bananas. All that night we had been + moving on and on, slowly crossing clear <i>savannas</i>, in which nothing + stirred beside ourselves but the escort of our own shadows, or plunging + through dense patches of forest of an obscurity so impenetrable that the + very forms of our rescuers became lost to us, though we heard their low + voices and felt their hands steadying us in our saddles. Then our horses + paced softly on the dust of a road, while athwart an avenue of orange + trees whose foliage seemed as black as coal, the blind walls of the <i>hacienda</i> + shone dead white like a vision of mists. A Brazilian aloe flowered by the + side of the gate; we drooped in our saddles; and the heavy knocks against + the wooden portal seemed to go on without cause, and stop without reason, + like a sound heard in a dream. We entered Seraphina’s <i>hacienda</i>. The + high walls inclosed a square court deep as the yard of a prison, with + flat-roofed buildings all around. It rang with many voices suddenly. Every + moment the daylight increased; young négresses in loose gowns ran here and + there, cackling like chased hens, and a fat woman waddled out from under + the shadow of a veranda. + </p> + <p> + She was Seraphina’s old nurse. She was scolding volubly, and suddenly she + shrieked, as though she had been stabbed. Then all was still for a long + time. Sitting high on the back of my patient mount, with my fingers + twisted in the mane, I saw in a throng of woolly heads and bright garments + Seraphina’s pale face. An increasing murmur of sobs and endearing names + mounted up to me. Her hair hung down, her eyes seemed immense; these + people were carrying her off—and a man with a careworn, bilious face + and a straight, gray beard, neatly clipped on the edges, stood at the head + of my horse, blinking with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + The fat woman reappeared, rolling painfully along the veranda. + </p> + <p> + “Enrico! It is her lover! Oh! my treasure, my lamb, my precious child. Do + you hear, Enrico? Her lover! Oh! the poor darling of my heart.” + </p> + <p> + She appeared to be giggling and weeping at the same time. The sky above + the yard brightened all at once, as if the sun had emerged with a leap + from the distant waters of the Atlantic. She waved her short arms at me + over the railing, then plunged her dark fingers in the shock of iron-gray + hair gathered on the top of her head. She turned away abruptly, a yellow + head-kerchief dodged in her way, a slap resounded, a cry of pain, and a + negro girl bolted into the court, nursing her cheek in the palms of her + hands. Doors slammed; other negro girls ran out of the veranda dismayed, + and took cover in various directions. + </p> + <p> + I swayed to and fro in the saddle, but faithful to the plan of our escape, + I tried to make clear my desire that these peons should be sworn to + secrecy immediately. Meantime, somebody was trying to disengage my feet + from the stirrups. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. It is as your worship wishes.” + </p> + <p> + The careworn man at the head of my horse was utterly in the dark. + </p> + <p> + “Attention!” he shouted. “Catch hold, <i>hombres</i>. Carry the <i>caballero</i>.” + </p> + <p> + What <i>caballero?</i> A rosy flush tinged a boundless expanse above my + face, and then came a sudden contraction of space and dusk. There were big + earthen’ ware jars ranged in a row on the floor, and the two <i>vaqueros</i> + stood bareheaded, stretching their arms over me towards a black crucifix + on a wall, taking their oaths, while I rested on my back. A white beard + hovered about my face, a voice said, “It is done,” then called anxiously + twice, “Señor! Señor!” and when I had escaped from the dream of a cavern, + I found myself with my head pillowed on a fat woman’s breast, and drinking + chicken broth out of a basin held to my lips. Her large cheeks quivered, + she had black twinkling eyes and slight moustaches at the corners of her + lips. But where was her white beard? And why did she talk of an angel, as + if she were Manuel? + </p> + <p> + “Seraphina!” I cried, but Castro’s cloak swooped on my head like a sable + wing. It was death. I struggled. Then I died. It was delicious to die. I + followed the floating shape of my love beyond the worlds of the universe. + We soared together above pain, strife, cruelty, and pity. We had left + death behind us and everything of life but our love, which threw a radiant + halo around two flames which were ourselves—and immortality inclosed + us in a great and soothing darkness. + </p> + <p> + Nothing stirred in it. We drifted no longer. We hung in it quite still—and + the empty husk of my body watched our two flames side by side, mingling + their light in an infinite loneliness. There were two candles burning low + on a little black table near my head. Enrico, with his white beard and + zealous eyes, was bending over my couch, while a chair, on high runners, + rocked empty behind him. I stared. + </p> + <p> + “Señor, the night is far advanced,” he said soothingly, “and Dolores, my + wife, watches over Dona Seraphina’s slumbers, on the other side of this + wall.” + </p> + <p> + I had been dead to the world for nearly twenty hours, and the awakening + resembled a new birth, for I felt as weak and helpless as an infant. + </p> + <p> + It is extraordinary how quickly we regained so much of our strength; but I + suppose people recover sooner from the effects of privation than from the + weakness of disease. Keeping pace with the return of our bodily vigour, + the anxieties of mind returned, augmented tenfold by all the weight of our + sinister experience. And yet, what worse could happen to us in the future? + What other terror could it hold? We had come back from the very confines + of destruction. But Seraphina, reclining back in an armchair, very still, + with her eyes fixed on the high white wall facing the veranda across the + court, would murmur the word “Separation!” + </p> + <p> + The possibility of our lives being forced apart was terrible to her + affection, and intolerable to her pride. She had made her choice, and the + feeling she had surrendered herself to so openly must have had a supreme + potency. She had disregarded for it all the traditions of silence and + reserve. She had looked at me fondly through the very tears of her grief; + she had followed me—leaving her dead unburied and her prayers + unsaid. What more could she have done to proclaim her love to the world? + Could she, after that, allow anything short of death to thwart her + fidelity? Never! And if she were to discover that I could, after all, find + it in my heart to support an existence in which she had no share, then, + indeed, it would be more than enough to make her die of shame. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, dearest!” I said, “you shall never die of shame.” + </p> + <p> + We were different, but we had read each other’s natures by a fierce light. + I understood the point of honour in her constancy, and she never doubted + the scruples of my true devotion, which had brought so many dangers on her + head. We were flying not to save our lives, but to preserve inviolate our + truth to each other and to ourselves. And if our sentiments appear + exaggerated, violent, and overstrained, I must point back to their origin. + Our love had not grown like a delicate flower, cherished in tempered + sunshine. It had never known the atmosphere of tenderness; our souls had + not been awakened to each other by a gentle whisper, but as if by the + blast of a trumpet. It had called us to a life whose enemy was not death, + but separation. + </p> + <p> + The enemy sat at the gate of our shelter, as death sits at the gate of + life. These high walls could not protect us, nor the tearful mumble of the + old woman’s prayers, nor yet the careworn fidelity of Enrico. The couple + hung about us, quivering with emotion. They peeped round the corners of + the veranda, and only rarely ventured to come out openly. The silent + Galician stroked his clipped beard; the obese woman kept on crossing + herself with loud, resigned sighs. She would waddle up, wiping her eyes, + to stroke Seraphina’s head and murmur endearing names. They waited on us + hand and foot, and would stand close together, ready for the slightest + sign, in a rapt contemplation. Now and then she would nudge her husband’s + ribs with her thick elbow and murmur, “Her lover.” + </p> + <p> + She was happy when Seraphina let her sit at her feet, and hold her hand. + She would pat it with gentle taps, squatting shapelessly on a low stool. + </p> + <p> + “Why go so far from thy old nurse, darling of my heart? Ah! love is love, + and we have only one life to live, but this England is very far—very + far away.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded her big iron-gray head slowly; and to our longing England + appeared very distant, too, a fortunate isle across the seas, an abode of + peace, a sanctuary of love. + </p> + <p> + There was no plan open to us but the one laid down by Sebright. The + secrecy of our sojourn at the <i>hacienda</i> had, in a measure, failed, + though there was no reason to suppose the two peons had broken their oath. + Our arrival at dawn had been unobserved, as far as we knew, and the + domestic slaves, mostly girls, had been kept from all communication with + the field hands outside. All these square leagues of the estate were very + much out of the world, and this isolation had not been broken upon by any + of O’Brien’s agents coming out to spy. It seemed to be the only part of + Seraphina’s great possessions that remained absolutely her own. + </p> + <p> + Not a whisper of any sort of news reached us in our hiding-place till the + fourth evening, when one of the <i>vaqueros</i> reported to Enrico that, + riding on the inland boundary, he had fallen in with a company of infantry + encamped on the edge of a little wood. Troops were being moved upon Rio + Medio. He brought a note from the officer in command of that party. It + contained nothing but a requisition for twenty head of cattle. The same + night we left the <i>hacienda</i>. + </p> + <p> + It was a starry darkness. Behind us the soft wailing of the old woman at + the gate died out: + </p> + <p> + “So far! So very far!” + </p> + <p> + We left the long street of the slave village on the left, and walked down + the gentle slope of the open glade towards the little river. Seraphina’s + hair was concealed in the crown of a wide sombrero and, wrapped up in a + serape, she looked so much like a cloaked vaquero that one missed the + jingle of spurs out of her walk. Enrico had fitted me out in his own + clothes from top to toe. He carried a lanthorn, and we followed the circle + of light that swayed and trembled upon the short grass. There was no one + else with us, the crew of the <i>drogher</i> being already on board to + await our coming. + </p> + <p> + Her mast appeared above the roof of some low sheds grouped about a short + wooden jetty. Enrico raised the lamp high to light us, as we stepped on + board. + </p> + <p> + Not a word was spoken; the five negroes of the crew (Enrico answered for + their fidelity) moved about noiselessly, almost invisible. Blocks rattled + feebly aloft. + </p> + <p> + “Enrico,” said Seraphina, “do not forget to put a stone cross over poor + Castro’s grave.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Señorita. May you know years of felicity. We would all have laid down + our lives for you. Remember that, and do not forget the living. Your + childhood has been the consolation of the poor woman there for the loss of + our little one, your foster brother, who died. We have given to you much + of our affection for him who was denied to our old age.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped back from the rail. “Go with God,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The faint air filled the sail, and the outlines of wharf and roof fell + back into the sombre background of the land, but the lanthorn in Enrico’s + hand glimmered motionless at the end of the jetty, till a bend of the + stream hid it from our sight. + </p> + <p> + We glided smoothly between the banks. Now and then a stretch of osiers and + cane brakes rustled alongside in the darkness. All was strange; the + contours of the land melted before our advance. The earth was made of + shifting shadows, and only the stars remained in unchanged groups of + glitter on the black sky. We floated across the land-locked basin, and + under the low headland we had steered for from the sea in the storm. All + this, seen only once under streams of lightning, was unrecognizable to us, + and seemed plunged in deep slumber. But the fresh feel of the sea air, and + the freedom of earth and sky wedded on the sea horizon, returned to us + like old friends, the companions of that time when we communed in words + and silences on board the <i>Lion</i>, that fragment of England found in a + mist, boarded in battle, with its absurd and warmhearted protection. On + our other hand, the rampart of white dunes intruded the line of a ghostly + shore between the depth of the sea and the profundity of the sky; and when + the faint breeze failed for a moment, the negro crew troubled the silence + with the heavy splashes of their sweeps falling in slow and solemn + cadence. The rudder creaked gently; the black in command was old and of + spare build, resembling Cesar, the major-domo, without the splendour of + maroon velvet and gold lace. He was a very good sailor, I believe, + taciturn and intelligent. He had seen the <i>Lion</i> frequently on his + trips to Havana, and would recognize her, he assured me, amongst a whole + host of shipping. When I had explained what was expected of him, according + to Sebright’s programme, a bizarre grimace of a smile disturbed the bony, + mournful cast of his African face. + </p> + <p> + “Fall on board by accident, Señor. <i>Si!</i> Now, by St. Jago of + Compostella, the patron cf our <i>hacienda</i>, you shall see this old + Pedro—who has been set to sail the craft ever since she was built—as + overcome by an accident as a little rascal of a boy that has stolen a + boat.” + </p> + <p> + After this wordy declaration he never spoke to us again. He gave his short + orders in low undertones, and the others, four stalwart blacks, in the + prime of life, executed them in silence. Another night brought the + unchanging stars to look at us in their multitudes, till the dawn put them + out just as we opened the entrance of the harbour. The daylight discovered + the arid colouring of the coast, a castle on a sandy hill, and a few small + boats with ragged sails making for the land. A brigantine, that seemed to + have carried the breeze with her right in, threw up the Stars and Stripes + radiantly to the rising sun, before rounding the point. The sound of bells + came out to sea, and met us while we crept slowly on, abreast of the + battery at the water’s edge. + </p> + <p> + “A feast-day in the city,” said the old negro at the helm. “And here is an + English ship of war.” + </p> + <p> + The sun-rays struck from afar full at her belted side; the water was like + glass along the shore. She swam into the very shade of the hill, before + she wore round, with great deliberation, in an ample sweep of her headgear + through a complete half-circle. She came to the wind on the other tack + under her short canvas; her lower deck ports were closed, the hammock + cloths like a ridge of unmelted snow lying along her rail. + </p> + <p> + It was evident she was kept standing off and on outside the harbour, as an + armed man may pace to and fro before a gate. With the hum of six hundred + wakeful lives in her flanks, the tap-tapping of a drum, and the shrill + modulations of the boatswain’s calls piping some order along her decks, + she floated majestically across our path. But the only living being we saw + was the red-coated marine on sentry by the lifebuoys, looking down at us + over the taffrail. We passed so close to her that I could distinguish the + whites of his eyes, and the tompions in the muzzles of her stern-chasers + protruding out of the ports belonging to the admiral’s quarters. + </p> + <p> + I knew her. She was Rowley’s flagship. She had thrown the shadow of her + sails upon the end of my first sea journey. She was the man-of-war going + out for a cruise on that day when Carlos, Tomas, and myself arrived in + Jamaica in the old <i>Thames</i>. And there she was meeting me again, + after two years, before Havana—the might of the fortunate isle to + which we turned our eyes, part and parcel of my inheritance, formidable + with the courage of my countrymen, humming with my native speech—and + as foreign to my purposes as if I had forfeited forever my birthright in + her protection. I had drifted into a sort of outlaw. You may not break the + king’s peace and be made welcome on board a king’s ship. You may not hope + to make use of a king’s ship for the purposes of an elopement. There was + no room on board that seventy-four for our romance. + </p> + <p> + As it was, I very nearly hailed her. What would become of us if the Lion + had already left Havana? I thought. But no. To hail her meant separation—the + only forbidden thing to those who, in the strength of youth and love, are + permitted to defy the world together. + </p> + <p> + I did not hail; and the marine dwindled to a red speck upon the noble hull + forging away from us on the offshore tack. The brazen clangour of bells + seemed to struggle with the sharp puff of the breeze that sent us in. + </p> + <p> + The shipping in harbour was covered with bunting in honour of the + feast-day; for the same reason, there was not a sign of the usual crowd of + small boats that give animation to the waters of a port; the middle of the + harbour was strangely empty. A solitary bumboat canoe, with a yellow bunch + of bananas in the bow, and an old negro woman dipping a languid paddle at + the stern, were all that met my eye. Presently, however, a six-oared + custom-house galley darted out from the tier of ships, pulling for the + American brigantine. I noticed in her, beside the ordinary port officials, + several soldiers, and a person astonishingly like the <i>alguazil</i> of + the illustrations to Spanish romances. One of the uniformed sitters waved + his hand at us, recognizing an estate <i>drogher</i>, and shouted some + directions, of which we only caught the words: + </p> + <p> + “Steps—examination—to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Our steersman took off his old hat humbly, to hail back, “<i>Muy bien, + Señor</i>.” + </p> + <p> + I breathed freely, for they gave us no more of their attention. Soldiers, + <i>alguazil</i>, and custom-house officers were swarming aboard the + American, as if bent on ransacking her from stem to stern in the shortest + possible time, so as not to be late for the procession. + </p> + <p> + The absence of movement in the harbour, the festive and idle appearance of + the ships, with the flutter of innumerable flags on the forest of masts, + and the great uproar of church bells in the air, made an impressive + greeting for our eyes and ears. And the deserted aspect of the harbour + front of the city was very striking, too. The feast had swept the quays of + people so completely that the tiny pair of sentries at the foot of a tall + yellow building caught the eye from afar. Sera-phina crouched on a coil of + rope under the bulwark; old Pedro, at the tiller, peered about from under + his hand, and I, trying to expose myself to view as little as possible, + helped him to look for the <i>Lion</i>. There she is. Yes! No! There she + was. A crushing load fell off my chest. We had made her out together, old + Pedro and I. + </p> + <p> + And then the last part of Sebright’s plan had to be carried out at once. + The foresheet of the <i>drogher</i> appeared to part, our mainsail shook, + and before I could gasp twice, we had drifted stern foremost into the <i>Lion’s</i> + mizzen chains with a crash that brought a genuine expression of concern to + the old negro’s face. He had managed the whole thing with a most + convincing skill, and without even once glancing at the ship. We had done + our part, but the people of the Lion seemed to fail in theirs + unaccountably. Of all the faces that crowded her rail at the shock, not + one appeared with a glimmer of intelligence. All the cargo ports were + down. Their surprise and their swearing appeared to me alarmingly + unaffected; with a most imbecile alacrity they exerted themselves, with + small spars and boathooks, to push the drogher off. Nobody seemed to + recognize me; Seraphina might have been a peon sitting on deck, cloaked + from neck to heels and under a sombrero. I dared not shout to them in + English, for fear of being heard on board the other ships around. At last + Sebright himself appeared on the poop. + </p> + <p> + He gave one look over the side. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil...” he began. Was he blind, too? + </p> + <p> + Suddenly I saw him throw up his arms above his head. He vanished. A port + came open with a jerk at the last moment. I lifted Seraphina up: two hands + caught hold of her, and, in my great hurry to scramble up after her, I + barked my shins cruelly. The port fell; the drogher went on bumping + alongside, completely disregarded. Seraphina dropped the cloak at her feet + and flung off her hat. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, <i>amigos</i>,” she said gravely. + </p> + <p> + A hissed “Damn you fools—keep quiet!” from Sebright, stifled the + cheer in all those bronzed throats. Only a thin little poor “hooray” + quavered along the deck. The timid steward had not been able to overcome + his enthusiasm. He slapped his head in despair, and rushed away to bury + himself in his pantry. + </p> + <p> + “Turned up, by heavens!... Go in.... Good God!... Bucketfuls of tears....” + stammered Sebright, pushing us into the cuddy. “Go in! Go in at once!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Williams rose from behind the table wide-eyed, clasping her hands, + and stumbled twice as she ran to us. + </p> + <p> + “What have you done to that child, Mr. Kemp!” she cried insanely at me. + “Oh, my dear, my dear! You look like your own ghost.” + </p> + <p> + Sebright, burning with impatience, pulled me away. The cabin door fell + upon the two women, locked in a hug, and, stepping into his stateroom, we + could do nothing at first but slap each other on the back and ejaculate + the most unmeaning exclamations, like a couple of jocular idiots. But + when, in the expansion of my heart, I tried to banter him about not + keeping his word to look out for us, he bent double in trying to restrain + his hilarity, slapped his thighs, and grew red in the face. + </p> + <p> + The excellent joke was that, for the past six days, we had been supposed + to be dead—drowned; at least Dona Seraphina had been provided with + that sort of death in her own name; I was drowned, too, but in the + disguise of a piratical young English nobleman. + </p> + <p> + “There’s nothing too bad for them to believe of us,” he commented, and + guffawed in his joy at seeing me unscathed. “Dead! Drowned! Ha! Ha! Good, + wasn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Williams—he said—had been weeping her eyes out over our + desolate end; and even the skipper had sulked with his food for a day or + two. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! Ha! Drowned! Excellent!” He shook me by the shoulders, looking me + straight in the eyes—and the bizarre, nervous hilarity of my + reception, so unlike his scornful attitude, proved that he, too, had + believed the rumour. Indeed, nothing could have been more natural, + considering my inexperience in handling boats and the fury of the norther. + It had sent the Lion staggering into Havana in less than twenty hours + after we had parted from her on the coast. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a change came over him. He pushed me on to the settee. + </p> + <p> + “Speak! Talk! What has happened? Where have you been all this time? Man, + you look ten years older.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten years. Is that all?” I said. + </p> + <p> + And after he had heard the whole story of our passages he appeared greatly + sobered. + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful! Wonderful!” he muttered, lost in deep thought, till I reminded + him it was his turn, now, to speak. + </p> + <p> + “You are the talk of the town,” he said, recovering his elasticity of + spirit as he went on. The death of Don Balthasar had been the first great + sensation of Havana, but it seemed that O’Brien had kept that news to + himself, till he heard by an overland messenger that Sera-phina and I had + escaped from Casa Riego. + </p> + <p> + Then he gave it to the world; he let it be inferred that he had the news + of both events together. The story, as sworn to by various suborned + rascals, and put out by his creatures, ran that an English desperado, + arriving in Rio Medio with some Mexicans in a schooner, had incited the + rabble of the place to attack the Casa Riego. Don Balthasar had been shot + while defending his house at the head of his negroes; and Don Bal-thasar’s + daughter had been carried off by the English pirate. + </p> + <p> + The amazement and sensation were extreme. Several of the first families + went into mourning. A service for the repose of Don Balthasar’s soul was + sung in the Cathedral. Captain Williams went there out of curiosity, and + returned full of the magnificence of the sight; nave draped in black, an + enormous catafalque, with silver angels, more than life-size, kneeling at + the four corners with joined hands, an amazing multitude of lights. A + demonstration of unbounded grief from the Judge of the Marine Court had + startled the distinguished congregation. In his place amongst the body of + higher magistrature, Don Patricio O’Brien burst into an uncontrollable + paroxysm of sobs, and had to be assisted out of the church. + </p> + <p> + It was almost incredible, but I could well believe it. With the thunderous + strains of <i>Dies Irae</i> rolling over his bowed head, amongst all these + symbols and trappings of woe, he must have seen, in the black anguish of + his baffled passion, the true image of death itself, and tasted all the + profound deception of life. Who could tell how much secret rage, jealousy, + regret, and despair had gone to that outburst of grief, whose truth had + fluttered a distinguished company of mourners, and had nearly interrupted + their official supplications for the repose of that old man, who had been + dead to the world for so many years? I believe that, on that very day, + just as he was going to the service, O’Brien had received the news of our + supposed death by drowning. The music, the voices, the lights of the + grave, the pomp of mourning, awe, and supplication crying for mercy upon + the dead, had been too much for him. He had presumed too much upon his + fortitude. He wept aloud for his love lost, for his vengeance defeated, + for the dreams gone out of his life, for the inaccessible consummation of + his desire. + </p> + <p> + “And, you know, with all these affairs, he feels himself wobbling in his + socket,” Sebright began again, after musing for a while. Indeed, the last + events in Rio Medio were endangering his position. He could no more + present his reports upon the state of the province with incidental + reflections upon the bad faith of the English Government (who encouraged + the rebels against the Catholic king), the arrogance of the English + admiral, and concluding with the loyalty and honesty of the Rio Medio + population, “who themselves suffered many acts of molestation from the + Mexican pirates.” The most famous of these papers, printed at that time in + the official <i>Gazette</i>, had recommended that the loyal town should be + given a battery of thirty-six pounders for purposes of self-defence. They + had been given them just in time to be turned on Rowley’s boats; it is + known with what deadly effect. O’Brien’s report after that event had made + it clear that that virtuous population of the bay, exasperated by the + intrusions of the Mexicanos upon their peaceful state, and abhorring in + their souls the rebellion trying to lift its envenomed head, etc., + etc.,... heroically manned the battery to defend their town from the boats + which they took to be these very pirates the British admiral was in search + of. He pleaded for them the uncertain light of the early morning, the + ardour of citizens, valorous, but naturally inexperienced in matters of + war, and the impossibility to suppose that the admiral of a friendly power + would dispatch an armed force to land on these shores. I have read these + things with my own eyes; there were old files of the <i>Gazette</i> on + board, and Sebright, who had been reading up his O’Brien, pointed them out + to me with his finger, muttering: + </p> + <p> + “Here—look there. Pretty, ain’t it?” + </p> + <p> + But that was all over. The bubble had burst. It was reported in town that + the private audience the <i>Juez</i> had lately from the Captain-General + was of a most stormy description. They say old Marshal What-d’ye-call-’um + ended by flinging his last report in his face, and asking him how dared he + work his lawyer’s tricks upon an old soldier. Good old fighting cock. But + stupid. All these old soldiers were stupid, Sebright declared. Old + admirals, too. However, the land troops had arrived in Rio Medio by this + time; the <i>Tornado</i> frigate, too, no doubt, having sailed four days + ago, with orders to burn the villages to the ground; and the good <i>Lugareños</i> + must be catching colds trying to hide from the carabineers in the deep, + damp woods. + </p> + <p> + Our admiral was awaiting the issue of that expedition. Returning home + under a cloud, Rowley wanted to take with him the assurance of the pirate + nest being destroyed at last, as a sort of diplomatic feather in his cap. + </p> + <p> + “He may think,” Sebright commented, “that it’s his sailorly bluff that has + done it, but, as far as I can see, nobody but you yourself, Kemp, had + anything to do with bringing it about. Funny, is it not? Old Rowley keeps + his ship dodging outside because it’s cooler at sea than stewing in this + harbour, but he sends in a boat for news every morning. What he is most + anxious for is to get the notorious Nichols into his hands; take him home + for a hanging. It seems clear to me that they are humbugging him ashore. + Nichols! Where’s Nichols? There are people here who say that Nichols has + had free board and lodging in Havana jail for the last six months. Others + swear that it is Nichols who has killed the old gentleman, run off with + Dona Seraphina, and got drowned. Nichols! Who’s Nichols? On that showing + you are Nichols. Anybody may be Nichols. Who has ever seen him outside Rio + Medio? I used to believe in him at one time, but, upon my word I begin to + doubt whether there ever was such a man.” + </p> + <p> + “But the man existed, at any rate,” I said. “I knew him—I’ve talked + with him. He came out second mate in the same ship with me—in the + old <i>Thames</i>. Ramon took charge of him in Kingston, and that’s the + last positive thing I can swear to, of him. But that he was in Rio Medio + for two years, and vanished from there almost directly after that unlucky + boat affair, I am absolutely certain.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose O’Brien knows where to lay his hand on him. But no matter + where the fellow is, in jail or out of it, the admiral will never get hold + of him. If they had him they could not think of giving him up. He knows + too much of the game; and remember that O’Brien, if he wobbles in the + socket, is by no means down yet. A man like that doesn’t get knocked over + like a ninepin. You may be sure he has twenty skeletons put away in good + places, that he will haul out one by one, rather than let himself be + squashed. He’s not going to give in. A few days ago, a priest—your + priest, you know—turned up here on foot from Rio Medio, and went + about wringing his hands, declaring that he knew all the truth, and meant + to make a noise about it, too. O’Brien made short work of him, though; got + the archbishop to send him into retreat, as they call it, to a Franciscan + convent a hundred miles from here. These things are whispered about all + along the gutters of this place.” + </p> + <p> + I imagined the poor Father Antonio, with his simple resignation, mourning + for us in his forced retreat, brokenhearted, and murmuring, “Inscrutable, + inscrutable.” I should have liked to see the old man. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you the town is fairly buzzing with the atrocities of this + business,” Sebright went on. “It’s the thing for fashionable people to go + and see what I may call the relics of the crime. They are on show in the + waiting-hall of the Palace of Justice. Why, I went there myself. You go + through a swing door into a big place that, for cheerfulness, is no better + than a monster coal cellar, and there you behold, laid out on a little + black table, Mrs. Williams’ woollen shawl, your Señorita’s tortoise-shell + comb, that had got entangled in it somehow, and my old cap that I lent you—you + remember. I assure you, it gave me the horrors to see the confounded + things spread out there in that dim religious light. Dash me, if I didn’t + go queer all over. And all the time swell carriages stopping before the + portico, dressed-up women walking up in pairs and threes, sighing before + the missus’ shawl, turning up their eyes, ‘Ah! <i>Pobrecita! Pobrecita!</i> + But what a strange wrap for her to have. It is very coarse. Perished in + the flower of her youth. Incredible! Oh, the savage, cruel Englishman.’ + The funniest thing in the world.” + </p> + <p> + But if this was so, Manuel’s <i>Lugareños</i> were now in Havana. Sebright + pointed out that, as things stood, it was the safest place for them, under + the wing of their patron. Sebright had recognized the schooner at once. + She came in very early one morning, and hauled herself unostentatiously + out of sight amongst a ruck of small craft moored in the lower part of the + harbour. He took the first opportunity to ask one of the guards on the + quay what was that pretty vessel over there, just to hear what the man + would say. He was assured that she was a Porto Rico trader of no + consequence, well known in the port. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the scoundrels; they can do nothing more to you.” + </p> + <p> + Sebright dismissed the <i>Lugareños</i> out of my life. The unfavourable + circumstance for us was that the captain had gone ashore. The ship was + ready for sea; absolutely cleared; papers on board; could go in an hour if + it came to that; but, at any rate, next morning at daylight, before + O’Brien could get wind of the Riego <i>drogher</i> arriving. Every + movement in port was reported to the <i>Juez</i>; but this was a feast, + and he would not hear of it probably till next day. Even <i>fiestas</i> + had their uses sometimes. In his anxiety to discover Seraphina, O’Brien + had played such pranks amongst the foreign shipping (after the <i>Lion</i> + had been drawn blank) that the whole consular body had addressed a joint + protest to the Governor, and the <i>Juez</i> had been told to moderate his + efforts. No ship was to be visited more than once. Still I had seen, + myself, soldiers going in a boat to board the American brigantine: a + garlic-eating crew, poisoning the cabins with their breath, and poking + their noses everywhere. Of course, since our supposed drowning, there had + been a lull; but the least thing might start him off again. He was reputed + to be almost out of his mind with sorrow, arising from his great + attachment for the family. He walked about as if distracted, suffered from + insomnia, and had not been fit to preside in his court for over a week, + now. + </p> + <p> + “But don’t you expect Williams back on board directly?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No. Not even to-night. He told the missus he was going to spend the day + out of town with his consignee, but he tipped me the wink. This evening he + will send a note that the consignee detains him for the night, because the + letters are not ready, and I’ll have to go to her and lie, the best I am + able, that it’s quite the usual thing. Damn!” + </p> + <p> + I was appalled. This was too bad. And, as I raged against the dissolute + habits of the man, Sebright entreated me to moderate my voice so as not to + be heard in the cabin. Did I expect the man to change his skin? He had + been doing the gay bachelor about here all his life; had never suspected + he was doing anything particularly scandalous either. + </p> + <p> + “He married the old girl out of chivalry,—the romantic fat beggar,—and + never realized what it meant till she came out with him,” Sebright went on + whispering to me. “He loves and honours her more than you may think. That + is so, for all your shrugs, Mr. Kemp. It is not so easy to break the old + connection as you imagine. Why, the other evening, two of his dissolute + habits (as you call them) came off, with mantillas over their heads, in a + boat, in company with a male scallawag of sorts, pinching a mandolin, and + serenaded the ship for him. We were all in the cabin after supper, and + poor Mrs. Williams, with her eyes still red from weeping over you people, + says to us, ‘How sweet and melancholy that sounds,’ says she. You should + have seen the skipper rolling his eyes at me. The perspiration of fright + was simply pouring down his face. I rushed on deck, and it took me all my + Spanish to stop them from coming aboard. I had to swear by all the saints, + and the honour of a <i>caballero</i>, that there was a wife. They went + away laughing at last. They did not want to make trouble. They simply had + not believed the tale before. Thought it was some dodge of his. I could + hear their peals of laughter all the way up the harbour. These are the + difficulties we have. The old girl must be protected from that sort of + eye-opener, if I’ve to forswear my soul. I’ve been keeping guard over her + ever since we arrived here—besides looking out for you people, as + long as there was any hope.” + </p> + <p> + I was greatly cast down. Perhaps Williams was justified in making + concessions to the associates of his former jolly existence to save some + outrage to the feelings of his consort. I did not want to criticise his + motives—but what about getting him back on board at once? + </p> + <p> + Sebright was biting his lip. The necessity was pressing, he admitted. + </p> + <p> + He had an idea where to find him. But for himself he could not <i>go</i>—that + was evident. Neither would I wish him to leave the ship, even for a + moment, now Seraphina was on board. An unexpected visit from some zealous + police understrapper, a momentary want of presence of mind on the part of + the timid steward; there was enough to bring about our undoing. Moreover, + as he had said, he must remain on guard over the missus. But whom to send? + There was not a single boatman about. The harbour was a desert of water + and dressed ships; but even the crews of most of them were ashore—“on + a regular spree of praying,” as he expressed it vexedly. As to our own + crew, not one of them knew anything more of Spanish than a few terms of + abuse, perhaps. Their hearts were in the right place, but as to their + wits, he wouldn’t trust a single one of them by himself—no, not an + inch away from the ship. How could he send one of them ashore with the + wineshops yawning wide on all sides, and not enough lingo to ask for the + way. Sure to get drunk, to get lost, to get into trouble in some way, and + in the end get picked up by the police. The slightest hitch of that sort + would call attention upon the ship—and with O’Brien to draw + inferences.... He rubbed his head. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I’ll have to go,” he grunted. “But I am known; I may be + followed. They may wonder why I rush to fetch my skipper. And yet I feel + this is the time. The very time. Between now and four o’clock to-morrow + morning we have an almost absolute certitude of getting away with you two. + This is our chance and your chance.” + </p> + <p> + He was lost in perplexity. Then, as if inspired, I cried: + </p> + <p> + “I will go!” + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” he said, amazed. “Would you?” + </p> + <p> + I rushed at him with arguments. No one would know me. My clothes were all + right and clean enough for a feast-day. I could slip through the crowds + un-perceived. The principal thing was to get Seraphina out of O’Brien’s + reach. At the worst, I could always find means to get away from Cuba by + myself. There was Mrs. Williams to look after her, and if I missed + Williams by some mischance, and failed to make my way back to the ship in + time, I charged them solemnly not to wait, but sail away at the earliest + possible moment. + </p> + <p> + I said much more than this. I was eloquent. I became as if suddenly + intoxicated by the nearness of freedom and safety. The thought of being at + sea with her in a few hours away from all trouble of mind or heart, made + my head swim. It seemed to me I should go mad if I was not allowed to go. + My limbs tingled with eagerness. I stuttered with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Well—after all!” Sebright mumbled. + </p> + <p> + “I must go in and tell her,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “No. Don’t do that,” said that wise young man. “Have you made up your + mind?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have,” I answered. “But she’s reasonable.” + </p> + <p> + “Still,” he argued, “the old girl is sure to say that nothing of the kind + is necessary. The captain told her that he was coming back for tea. What + could we say to that? We can’t explain the true state of the case, and if + you persist in going, it will look like pig-headed folly on your part.” + </p> + <p> + He threw his writing-desk open for me. + </p> + <p> + “Write to her. Write down your arguments—what you have been telling + me. It’s a fact that the door stands open for a few hours. As to the + rest,” he pursued, with a weary sigh, “I’ll do the lying to pass it off + with Mrs. Williams.” + </p> + <p> + Thus it came about that, with only two flimsy bulkheads between us, I + wrote my first letter to Seraphina, while Sebright went on deck to make + arrangements to send me ashore. He was some time away; long enough for me + to pour out on paper the exultation of my thought, the confidence of my + hope, my desire to have her safe at last with me upon the blue sea. One + must seize a propitious moment lest it should slip away and never return, + I wrote. I begged her to believe I was acting for the best, and only from + my great love, that could not support the thought of her being so near + O’Brien, the arch-enemy of our union. There was no separation on the sea. + </p> + <p> + Sebright came in brusquely. + </p> + <p> + “Come along.” + </p> + <p> + The American brigantine was berthed by then, close astern of the <i>Lion</i>, + and Sebright had the idea of asking her mate to let his boat (it was in + the water) put ashore a visitor he had on board. His own were hoisted, he + explained, and there were no boatmen plying for hire. + </p> + <p> + His request was granted. I was pulled ashore by two American sailors, who + never said a word to each other, and evidently took me for a Spaniard. + </p> + <p> + It was an excellent idea. By borrowing the Yankee’s boat, the track of my + connection with the <i>Lion</i> was covered. The silent seamen landed me, + as asked by Sebright, near the battery on the sand, quite clear of the + city. + </p> + <p> + I thanked them in Spanish, and, traversing a piece of open ground, made a + wide circle to enter the town from the land side, to still further cover + my tracks. I passed through a sort of squalid suburb of huts, hovels, and + negro shanties. I met very few people, and these mostly old women, looking + after the swarms of children of all colours and sizes, playing in the + dust. Many curs sunned themselves among heaps of rubbish, and took not the + trouble to growl at me. Then I came out upon a highroad, and turned my + face towards the city lying under a crude sunshine, and in a ring of + metallic vibrations. + </p> + <p> + Better houses with plastered fronts washed yellow or blue, and even pinky + red, alternated with tumble-down wooden structures. A crenellated squat + gateway faced me with a carved shield of stone above the open gloom. A + young smooth-faced mulatto, in some sort of dirty uniform, but wearing new + straw slippers with blue silk rosettes over his naked feet, lounged + cross-legged at the door of a kind of guardroom. He held a big cigar + tilted up between his teeth, and ogled me, like a woman, out of the + corners of his languishing eyes. He said not a word. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately my face had tanned to a dark hue. Enrico’s clothes would not + attract attention to me, of course. The light colour of my hair was + concealed by the handkerchief bound under my hat; my footsteps echoed + loudly under the vault, and I penetrated into the heart of the city. + </p> + <p> + And directly, it seemed to me, I had stepped back three hundred years. I + had never seen anything so old; this was the abandoned inheritance of an + adventurous race, that seemed to have thrown all its might, all its + vigour, and all its enthusiasm into one supreme effort of valour and + greed. I had read the history of the Spanish Conquest; and, looking at + these great walls of stone, I felt my heart moved by the same wonder, and + by the same sadness. With what a fury of heroism and faith had this whole + people flung itself upon the opulent mystery of the New World. Never had a + nation clasped closer to its heart its dream of greatness, of glory, and + of romance. There had been a moment in its destiny, when it could believe + that Heaven itself smiled upon its massacres. I walked slowly, awed by the + solitude. They had conquered and were no more, and these wrought stones + remained to testify gloomily to the death of their success. Heavy houses, + immense walls, pointed arches of the doorways, cages of iron bars + projecting balcony wise around each square window. And not a soul in + sight, not a head looking out from these dwellings, these houses of men, + these ancient abodes of hate, of base rivalries, of avarice, of ambitions—these + old nests of love, these witnesses of a great romance now past and gone + below the horizon. They seemed to return mournfully my wondering glances; + they seemed to look at me and say, “What do you here? We have seen other + men, heard other footsteps!” The peace of the cloister brooded over these + aged blocks of masonry, stained with the green trails of mosses, + infiltrated with shadows. + </p> + <p> + At times the belfry of a church would volley a tremendous crash of bronze + into the narrow streets; and between whiles I could hear the faint echoes + of far-off chanting, the brassy distant gasps of trombones. A woman in + black whisked round a corner, hurrying towards the route of the + procession. I took the same direction. From a wine-shop, yawning like a + dirty cavern in the basement of a palatial old building, issued suddenly a + brawny ruffian in rags, wiping his thick beard with the back of a hairy + paw. He lurched a little, and began to walk before me hastily. I noticed + the glitter of a gold earring in the lobe of his huge ear. His cloak was + frayed at the bottom into a perfect fringe and, as he flung it about, he + showed a good deal of naked skin under it. His calves were bandaged + crosswise; his peaked hat seemed to have been trodden upon in filth before + he had put it on his head. Suddenly I stopped short. A <i>Lugareño</i>! + </p> + <p> + We were then in the empty part of a narrow street, whose lower end was + packed, close with a crowd viewing the procession which was filing slowly + past, along the wide thoroughfare. It was too late for me to go back. + Moreover, the ruffian paid no attention to me. It was best to go on. The + people, packed between the houses with their backs to us, blocked our way. + I had to wait. + </p> + <p> + He took his position near me in the rear of the last rank of the crowd. He + must have been inclined to repentance in his cups, because he began to + mumble and beat his breast. Other people in the crowd were also beating + their breasts. In front of me I had the façade of a building which, + according to the little plan of my route Sebright drew for me, was the + Palace of Justice. It had a peristyle of ugly columns at the top of a + flight of steps. A cordon of infantry kept the roadway clear. The singing + went on without interruption; and I saw tall saints of wood, gilt and + painted red and blue, pass, borne shoulder-high, swaying and pitching + above the heads of the crowd like the masts of boats in a seaway. + Crucifixes were carried, flashing in the sun; an enormous Madonna, which + must have weighed half a ton, tottered across my line of sight, dressed up + in gold brocade and with a wreath of paper roses on her head. A military + band sent a hurricane blast of brasses as it went by. Then all was still + at once, except the silvery tinkling of hand-bells. The people before me + fell on their knees together and left me standing up alone. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact I had been caught gaping at the ceremony quite new to + me, and had not expected a move of that sort. The ruffian kneeling within + a foot of me thumped and bellowed in an ecstasy of piety. As to me, I own + I stood there looking with impatience at a passing canopy that seemed all + gold, with three priests in gorgeous capes walking slowly under it, and I + absolutely forgot to take off my hat. The bearded ruffian looked up from + the midst of his penitential exercises, and before I realized I was + outraging his or anybody else’s feelings, leaped up with a yell, “Thou + sacrilegious infidel,” and sent my hat flying off my head. + </p> + <p> + Just then the band crashed again, the bells pealed out, and no one heard + his shout. With one blow of my fist I sent him staggering backwards. The + procession had passed; people were rising from their knees and pouring out + of the narrow street. Swearing, he fumbled under his cloak; I watched him + narrowly; but in a moment he sprang away and lost himself amongst the + moving crowd. I picked up my hat. + </p> + <p> + For a time I stood very uneasy, and then retreated under a doorway. + Nothing happened, and I was anxious to get on. It was possible to cross + the wide street now. That <i>Lugareño</i> did not know me. He was a <i>Lugareño</i>, + though. No doubt about it. I would make a dash now; but first I stole a + hasty glance at the plan of my route which I kept in the hollow of my + palm. + </p> + <p> + “Señor,” said a voice. I lifted my head. + </p> + <p> + An elderly man in black, with a white moustache and imperial, stood before + me. The ruffian was stalking up to his side, and four soldiers with an + officer were coming behind. I took in the whole disaster at a glance. + </p> + <p> + “The Señor is no doubt a foreigner—perhaps an Englishman,” said the + official in black. He had a lace collar, a chain on his neck, velvet + breeches, a well-turned leg in black stockings. His voice was soft. + </p> + <p> + I was so disconcerted that I nodded at him. + </p> + <p> + “The Señor is young and inconsiderate. Religious feelings ought to be + respected.” The official in black was addressing me in sad and measured + tones. “This good Catholic,” he continued, eying the bearded ruffian + dubiously, “has made a formal statement to me of your impious + demonstration.” + </p> + <p> + What a fatal accident, I thought, appalled; but I tried to explain the + matter. I expressed regret. The other gazed at me benevolently. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, Señor, pray follow me. Even for your own safety. You must + give some account of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + This I was firmly resolved not to give. But the <i>Lugareño</i> had been + going through a pantomime of scrutinizing my person. He crouched up, + stepped back, then to one side. + </p> + <p> + “This worthy man,” began the official in black, “complains of your + violence, too....” + </p> + <p> + “This worthy man,” I shouted stupidly, “is a pirate. He is a Rio Medio <i>Lugareño</i>. + He is a criminal.” + </p> + <p> + The official seemed astounded, and I saw my idiotic mistake at once—too + late! + </p> + <p> + “Strange,” he murmured, and, at the same time, the ruffianly wretch began + to shout: + </p> + <p> + “It is he! The traitor! The heretic! I recognize him!” + </p> + <p> + “Peace, peace!” said the man in black. + </p> + <p> + “I demand to be taken before the Juez Don Patricio for a deposition,” + shrieked the <i>Lugareño</i>. A crowd was beginning to collect. + </p> + <p> + The official and the officer exchanged consulting glances. At a word from + the latter, the soldiers closed upon me. + </p> + <p> + I felt utterly overcome, as if the earth had crumbled under my feet, and + the heavens had been rent in twain. + </p> + <p> + I walked between my captors across the street amongst hooting knots of + people, and up the steps of the portico, as if in a frightful dream. + </p> + <p> + In the gloomy, chilly hall they made me wait. A soldier stood on each side + of me, and there, absolutely before my eyes on a little table, reposed + Mrs. Williams’ shawl and Sebright’s cap. This was the very hall of the + Palace of Justice of which Sebright had spoken. It was more than ever like + an absurd dream, now. But I had the leisure to collect my wits. I could + not claim the Consul’s protection simply because I should have to give him + a truthful account of myself, and that would mean giving up Seraphina. The + Consul could not protect her. But the <i>Lion</i> would sail on the + morrow. Sebright would understand it if Williams did not. I trusted + Sebright’s sagacity. Yes, she would sail tomorrow evening. A day and a + half. If I could only keep the knowledge of Seraphina from O’Brien till + then—she was safe, and I should be safe, too, for my lips would be + unsealed. I could claim the protection of my Consul and proclaim the + villainy of the <i>Juez</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Go in there now, Señor, to be confronted with your accuser,” said the + official in black, appearing before me. He pointed at a small door to the + left. My heart was beating steadily. I felt a sort of intrepid + resignation. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2H_PART5"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + PART FIFTH — THE LOT OF MAN + </h2> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER ONE + </h3> + <p> + “Why have I been brought here, your worships?” I asked, with a great deal + of firmness. + </p> + <p> + There were two figures in black, the one beside, the other behind a large + black table. I was placed in front of them, between two soldiers, in the + centre of a large, gaunt room, with bare, dirty walls, and the arms of + Spain above the judge’s seat. + </p> + <p> + “You are before the <i>Juez de la Primiera Instancia</i>,” said the man in + black beside the table. He wore a large and shadowy tricorn. “Be silent, + and respect the procedure.” + </p> + <p> + It was, without doubt, excellent advice. He whispered some words in the + ear of the Judge of the First Instance. It was plain enough to me that the + judge was a quite inferior official, who merely decided whether there were + any case against the accused; he had, even to his clerk, an air of + timidity, of doubt. + </p> + <p> + I said, “But I insist on knowing....” + </p> + <p> + The clerk said, “In good time....” And then, in the same tone of + disinterested official routine, he spoke to the <i>Lugareño</i>, who, from + beside the door, rolled very frightened eyes from the judges and the clerk + to myself and the soldiers—“Advance.” + </p> + <p> + The judge, in a hurried, perfunctory voice, put questions to the <i>Lugareño</i>; + the clerk scratched with a large quill on a sheet of paper. + </p> + <p> + “Where do you come from?” + </p> + <p> + “The town of Rio Medio, Excellency.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what occupation?” + </p> + <p> + “Excellency—a few goats....” + </p> + <p> + “Why are you here?” + </p> + <p> + “My daughter, Excellency, married Pepe of the posada in the Calle....” + </p> + <p> + The judge said, “Yes, yes,” with an unsanguine impatience. The <i>Lugareño’s</i> + dirty hands jumped nervously on the large rim of his limp hat. + </p> + <p> + “You lodge a complaint against the senor there.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk pointed the end of his quill towards me. + </p> + <p> + “I? God forbid, Excellency,” the <i>Lugareño</i> bleated. “The <i>Alguazil</i> + of the Criminal Court instructed me to be watchful.” + </p> + <p> + “You lodge an information, then?” the <i>juez</i> said. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe it is an information, Excellency,” the <i>Lugareño</i> answered, + “as regards the senor there.” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Alguazil</i> of the Criminal Court had told him, and many other men + of Rio Medio, to be on the watch for me, “undoubtedly touching what had + happened, as all the world knew, in Rio Medio.” + </p> + <p> + He looked me full in the face with stupid insolence, and said: + </p> + <p> + “At first I much doubted, for all the world said this man was dead—though + others said worse things. Perhaps, who knows?” + </p> + <p> + He had seen me, he said, many times in Rio Medio, outside the Casa; on the + balcony of the Casa, too. And he was sure that I was a heretic and an evil + person. + </p> + <p> + It suddenly struck me that this man—I was undoubtedly familiar with + his face—must be the lieutenant of Manuel-del-Popolo, his boon + companion. Without doubt, he had seen me on the balcony of the Casa. + </p> + <p> + He had gained a lot of assurance from the conciliatory manner of the <i>Juez</i>, + and said suddenly, in a tentative way: + </p> + <p> + “An evil person; a heretic? Who knows? Perhaps it was he who incited some + people there to murder his señoria, the illustrious Don.” + </p> + <p> + I said almost contemptuously, “Surely the charge against me is most + absurd? Everyone knows who I am.” + </p> + <p> + The old judge made a gentle, tired motion with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Señor,” he said, “there is no charge against you—except that no one + knows who you are. You were in a place where very lamentable and + inexplicable things happened; you are now in Havana: you have no passport. + I beg of you to remain calm. These things are all in order.” + </p> + <p> + I hadn’t any doubt that, as far as he knew, he was speaking the truth. He + was a man, very evidently, of a weary and naïve simplicity. Perhaps it was + really true—that I should only have to explain; perhaps it was all + over. + </p> + <p> + O’Brien came into the room with the casual step of an official from an + office entering another’s room. + </p> + <p> + It was as if seeing me were a thing that he very much disliked—that + he came because he wanted to satisfy himself of my existence, of my + identity, and my being alone. The slow stare that he gave me did not + mitigate the leisureliness of his entry. He walked behind the table; the + judge rose with immense deference; with his eternal smile, and no word + spoken, he motioned the judge to resume the examination; he stood looking + at the clerk’s notes meditatively, the smile still round lips that had a + nervous tremble, and eyes that had dark marks beneath them. He seemed as + if he were still smiling just after having been violently shaken. + </p> + <p> + The judge went on examining the <i>Lugareño</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know whence the señor came?” + </p> + <p> + “Excellency, Excellency....” The man stuttered, his eyes on O’Brien’s + face. + </p> + <p> + “Nor how long he was in the town of Rio Medio?” the judge went on. + </p> + <p> + O’Brien suddenly drooped towards his ear. “All those things are known, + senor, my colleague,” he said, and began to whisper. + </p> + <p> + The old judge showed signs of very naïve astonishment and joy. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible?” he exclaimed. “This man? He is very young to have + committed such crimes.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk hurriedly left the room. He returned with many papers. O’Brien, + leaning over the judge’s shoulder, emphasized words with one finger. What + new villainies could O’Brien be meditating? It wasn’t possibly the <i>Lugareño’s</i> + suggestion that I had lured men to murder Don Balthasar? Was it merely + that I had infringed some law in carrying off Seraphina? + </p> + <p> + The old judge said, “How lucky, Don Patricio! We may now satisfy the + English admiral. What good fortune!” + </p> + <p> + He suddenly sat straight in his chair; O’Brien behind him scrutinized my + face—to see how I should bear what was coming. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” the judge asked peremptorily. + </p> + <p> + I said, “Juan—John Kemp. I am of noble English family; I am well + enough known. Ask the Señor O’Brien.” + </p> + <p> + On O’Brien’s shaken face the smile hardened. + </p> + <p> + “I heard that in Rio Medio the senor was called... was called...” He + paused and appealed to the <i>Lugareño</i>. + </p> + <p> + “What was he called—the <i>capataz</i> the man who led the + picaroons?” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Lugareño</i> stammered, “Nikola... Nikola el Escoces, Señor Don + Patricio.” + </p> + <p> + “You hear?” O’Brien asked the judge. “This villager identifies the man.” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly—undoubtedly,” the <i>Juez</i> said. “We need no more + evidence.... You, Señor, have seen this villain in Rio Medio, this + villager identifies him by name.” + </p> + <p> + I said, “This is absurd. A hundred witnesses can say that I am John + Kemp....” + </p> + <p> + “That may be true,” the <i>Juez</i> said dryly, and then to his clerk: + </p> + <p> + “Write here, ‘John Kemp, of noble British family, called, on the scene of + his crimes, Nikola el Escoces, otherwise El Demonio.’” + </p> + <p> + I shrugged my shoulders. I did not, at the moment, realize to what this + all tended. + </p> + <p> + The judge said to the clerk, “Read the Act of Accusation. Read here....” + He was pointing to a paragraph of the papers the clerk had brought in. + They were the Act of Accusation, prepared long before, against the man + Nichols. + </p> + <p> + This particular villainy suddenly became grotesquely and portentously + plain. The clerk read an appalling catalogue of sordid crimes, working + into each other like kneaded dough—the testimony of witnesses who + had signed the record. Nikola had looted fourteen ships, and had + apparently murdered twenty-two people with his own hand—two of them + women—and there was the affair of Rowley’s boats. “The pinnace,” the + clerk read, “of the British came within ten yards. The said Nikola then + exclaimed, ‘Curse the bloodthirsty hounds,’ and fired the grapeshot into + the boat. Seven were killed by that discharge. This I saw with my own + eyes.... Signed, Isidoro Alemanno.” And another swore, “The said Nikola + was below, but he came running up, and with one blow of his knife severed + the throat of the man who was kneeling on the deck....” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt that Nikola had committed these crimes; that the + witnesses had sworn to them and signed the deposition.... The old judge + had evidently never seen him, and now O’Brien and the <i>Lugareño</i> had + sworn that I was Nikola el Escoces, alias El Demonio. + </p> + <p> + My first impulse was to shout with rage; but I checked it because I knew I + should be silenced. I said: + </p> + <p> + “I am not Nikola el Escoces. That I can easily prove.” + </p> + <p> + The Judge of the First Instance shrugged his shoulders and looked, with + implicit trust, up into O’Brien’s face. + </p> + <p> + “That man,” I pointed at the <i>Lugareño</i>, “is a pirate. And, what is + more, he is in the pay of the Señor Juez O’Brien. He was the lieutenant of + a man called Manuel-del-Popolo, who commanded the <i>Lugareños</i> after + Nikola left Rio Medio.” + </p> + <p> + “You know very much about the pirates,” the <i>Juez</i> said, with the + sardonic air of a very stupid man. “Without doubt you were intimate with + them. I sign now your order for committal to the <i>carcel</i> of the + Marine Court.” + </p> + <p> + I said, “But I tell you I am not Nikola....” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Juez</i> said impassively, “You pass out of my hands into those of + the Marine Court. I am satisfied that you are a person deserving of a + trial. That is the limit of my responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + I shouted then, “But I tell you this O’Brien is my personal enemy.” + </p> + <p> + The old man smiled acidly. + </p> + <p> + “The señor need fear nothing of our courts. He will be handed over to his + own countrymen. Without doubt of them he will obtain justice.” He signed + to the <i>Lugareño</i> to go, and rose, gathering up his papers; he bowed + to O’Brien. “I leave the criminal at the disposal of your worship,” he + said, and went out with his clerk. + </p> + <p> + O’Brien sent out the two soldiers after him, and stood there alone. He had + never been so near his death. But for sheer curiosity, for my sheer desire + to know what he <i>could</i> say, I would have smashed in his brains with + the clerk’s stool. I was going to do it; I made one step towards the + stool. Then I saw that he was crying. + </p> + <p> + “The curse—the curse of Cromwell on you,” he sobbed suddenly. “You + send me back to hell again.” He writhed his whole body. “Sorrow!” he said, + “I know it. But what’s this? What’s <i>this?</i>” + </p> + <p> + The many reasons he had for sorrow flashed on me like a procession of + sombre images. + </p> + <p> + “Dead and done with a man can bear,” he muttered. “But this—Not to + know—perhaps alive—perhaps hidden—She may be dead....” + With a change like a flash he was commanding me. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how you escaped.” + </p> + <p> + I had a vague inspiration of the truth. + </p> + <p> + “You aren’t fit for a decent man’s speaking to,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “You let her drown.” + </p> + <p> + It gave me suddenly the measure of his ignorance; he did not know anything—nothing. + His hell was uncertainty. Well, let him stay there. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” he said. “Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Where she’s no need to fear you,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + He had a sudden convulsive gesture, as if searching for a weapon. + </p> + <p> + “If you’ll tell me she’s alive...” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m not dead,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Never a drowned puppy was more,” he said, with a flash of vivacity. “You + hang here—for murder—or in England for piracy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’ve little to want to live for,” I sneered at him. + </p> + <p> + “You let her drown,” he said. “You took her from that house, a young girl, + in a little boat. And you can hold up your head.” + </p> + <p> + “I was trying to save her from you,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “By God,” he said. “These English—I’ve seen them, spit the child on + the mother’s breast. I’ve seen them set fire to the thatch of the widow + and childless. But this.... But this.... I can save you, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t make me go through worse than I’ve borne,” I answered. Sorrow + and all he might wish on my head, my life was too precious to him till I + spoke. I wasn’t going to speak. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll search every ship in the harbour,” he said passionately. + </p> + <p> + “Do,” I said. “Bring your <i>Lugareños</i> to the task.” + </p> + <p> + Upon the whole, I wasn’t much afraid. Unless he got definite evidence he + couldn’t—in the face of the consul’s protests, and the presence of + the admiral—touch the <i>Lion</i> again. He fixed his eyes intently + upon me. + </p> + <p> + “You came in the American brigantine,” he said. “It’s known you landed in + her boat.” + </p> + <p> + I didn’t answer him; it was plain enough that the <i>drogher’s</i> arrival + had either not been reported to him, or it had been searched in vain. + </p> + <p> + “In her boat,” he repeated. “I tell you I know she is not dead; even you, + an Englishman, must have a different face if she were.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t at least ask you for life,” I said, “to enjoy with her.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s alive,” he said. “Alive! As for where, it matters little. I’ll + search every inch of the island, every road, every <i>hacienda</i>. You + don’t realize my power.” + </p> + <p> + “Then search the bottom of the sea,” I shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s look at the matter in the right light.” + </p> + <p> + He had mastered his grief, his incertitude. He was himself again, and the + smile had returned—as if at the moment he forced his features to + their natural lines. + </p> + <p> + “Send one of your friars to heaven—you’ll never go there yourself to + meet her.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will tell me she’s alive, I’ll save you.” + </p> + <p> + I made a mute, obstinate gesture. + </p> + <p> + “If she’s alive, and you don’t tell me, I can’t but find her. And I’ll + make you know the agonies of suspense—a long way from here.” + </p> + <p> + I was silent. + </p> + <p> + “If she’s dead, and you’ll tell me, I’ll save you some trouble. If she’s + dead and you don’t, you’ll have your own remorse and the rest, too.” + </p> + <p> + I said, “You’re too Irish mysterious for me to understand. But you’ve a + choice of four evils for me—choose yourself.” + </p> + <p> + He continued with a quivering, taut good-humour: “Prove to me she’s dead, + and I’ll let you die sharply and mercifully.” + </p> + <p> + “You won’t believe!” I said; but he took no notice. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you plainly,” he smiled. “If we find... if we find her dear body—and + I can’t help; but I’ve men on the watch all along the shores—I’ll + give you up to your admiral for a pirate. You’ll have a long slow agony of + a trial; I know what English justice is. And a disgraceful felon’s death.” + </p> + <p> + I was thinking that, in any case, a day or so might be gained, the <i>Lion</i> + would be gone; they could not touch her while the flagship remained + outside. I certainly didn’t want to be given up to the admiral; I might + explain the mistaken identity. But there was the charge of treason in + Jamaica. I said: + </p> + <p> + “I only ask to be given up; but you daren’t do it for your own credit. I + can show you up.” + </p> + <p> + He said, “Make no mistake! If he gets you, he’ll hang you. He’s going home + in disgrace. Your whole blundering Government will work to hang you.” + </p> + <p> + “They know pretty well,” I answered, “that there are queer doings in + Havana. I promise you, I’ll clear things up. I know too much....” + </p> + <p> + He said, with a sudden, intense note of passion, “Only tell me where her + grave is, I’ll let you go free. You couldn’t, you dare not, dastard that + you are, go away from where she died—without... without making + sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Then search all the new graves in the island,” I said, “I’ll tell you + nothing.... Nothing!” + </p> + <p> + He came at me again and again, but I never spoke after that. He made all + the issues clearer and clearer—his own side involuntarily and all + the griefs I had to expect. As for him, he dared not kill me—and he + dared not give me up to the admiral. In his suspense, since, for him, I + was the only person in the world who knew Seraphina’s fate, he dared not + let me out of his grip. And all the while he had me he must keep the + admiral there, waiting for the surrender either of myself or of some other + poor devil whom he might palm off as Nikola el Escoces. While the admiral + was there the <i>Lion</i> was pretty safe from molestation, and she would + sail pretty soon. + </p> + <p> + At the same time, except for the momentary sheer joy of tormenting a man + whom I couldn’t help regarding as a devil, I had more than enough to fear. + I had suffered too much; I wanted rest, woman’s love, slackening off. And + here was another endless coil—endless. If it didn’t end in a knife + in the back, he might keep me for ages in Havana; or he might get me sent + to England, where it would take months, an endless time, to prove merely + that I wasn’t Nikola el Escoces. I should prove it; but, in the meantime, + what would become of Sera-phina? Would she follow me to England? Would she + even know that I had gone there? Or would she think me dead and die + herself? O’Brien knew nothing; his spies might report a hundred + uncertainties. He was standing rigidly still now, as if afraid to move for + fear of breaking down. He said suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “You came in some ship; you can’t deceive me, I shall have them all + searched again.” + </p> + <p> + I said desperately, “Search and be damned—whatever ships you like.” + </p> + <p> + “You cold, pitiless, English scoundrel,” he shrieked suddenly. The + breaking down of his restraint had let him go right into madness. “You + have murdered her. You cared nothing; you came from nowhere. A beggarly + fool, too stupid to be even an adventurer. A miserable blunderer, coming + in blind; coming out blind; and leaving ruin and worse than hell. What + good have you done yourself? What could you? What did you see? What did + you hope?... Sorrow? Ruin? Death? I am acquainted with them. It is in the + blood; ’tis in the tone; in the entrails of us, in our mother’s milk. Your + accursed land has brought always that on our own dear and sorrowful + country.... You waste, you ruin, you spoil. What for?... Tell me what for? + Tell me? Tell me? What did you gain? What will you ever gain? An unending + curse!... But, ah, ye’ve no souls.” + </p> + <p> + He called very loudly, as if with a passionate relief, his voice giving + life to an unsuspected, misgiving echo: + </p> + <p> + “Guards! Soldiers!... You shall be shot, now!” + </p> + <p> + He was going to cut the knot that way. Two soldiers pushed the door + noisily open, their muskets advanced. He took no notice of them; and they + retained an attitude of military stupidity, their eyes upon him. He + whispered: + </p> + <p> + “No, no! Not yet!” + </p> + <p> + Then he looked at me searchingly, as if he still hoped to get some + certainty from my face, some inkling, perhaps some inspiration of what + would persuade me to speak. Then he shook his wrists violently, as if in + fear of himself. + </p> + <p> + “Take him away,” he said. “Away! Out of reach of my hands. Out of reach of + my hands.” + </p> + <p> + I was trembling a good deal; when the soldiers entered I thought I had got + to my last minute. But, as it was, he had not learnt a thing from me. Not + a thing. And I did not see where else he could go for information. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER TWO + </h3> + <p> + The entrance to the common prison of Havana was a sort of lofty tunnel, + finished by great, iron-rusted, wooden gates. A civil guard was exhibiting + the judge’s warrant for my committal to a white-haired man, with a red + face and blue eyes, that seemed to look through tumbled bushes of silver + eyebrows—the <i>alcayde</i> of the prison. He bowed, and rattled two + farcically large keys. A practicable postern was ajar on the yellow wood + of the studded gates. It was as if it afforded a glimpse of the other side + of the world. The venerable turnkey, a gnome in a steeple-crowned hat, + protruded a blood-red hand backwards in the direction of the postern. + </p> + <p> + “Señor Caballero,” he croaked, “I pray you to consider this house your + own. My servants are yours.” + </p> + <p> + Within was a gravel yard, shut in by portentous lead-white house-sides + with black window holes. Under each row of windows was a vast vaulted + tunnel, caged with iron bars, for all the world like beasts’ dens. It + being day, the beasts were out and lounging about the <i>patio</i>. They + had an effect of infinite tranquillity, as if they were ladies and + gentlemen parading in a Sunday avenue. Perhaps twenty of them, in snowy + white shirts and black velvet knee-breeches, strutted like pigeons in a + knot, some with one woman on the arm, some with two. Bundles of variegated + rags lay against the walls, as if they were sweepings. Well, they were the + sweepings of Havana jail. The men in white and black were the great + thieves... and there were children, too—the place was the city + orphanage. For the fifth part of a second my advent made no difference. + Then, at the far end, one of the men in black and white separated himself, + and came swiftly to me across the sunny <i>patio</i>. The others followed + slowly, with pea-fowl steps, their women hanging to them and whispering. + The bundles of rags rose up towards me; others slunk furtively out of the + barred dens. The man who was approaching had the head of a Julius Cæsar of + fifty, for all the world as if he had stolen a bust and endowed it with + yellow skin and stubby gray and silver hair. He saluted me with intense + gravity and an imperial glance of yellow eyes along a hooked nose. His + linen was the most spotless broidered and embossed stuff; from the crimson + scarf round his waist protruded the shagreen and silver handle of a long + dagger. He said: + </p> + <p> + “Señor, I have the honour to salute you. I am Crisostomo Garcia. I ask the + courtesy of your trousers.” + </p> + <p> + I did not answer him. I did not see what he wanted with my trousers, which + weren’t anyway as valuable as his own. The others were closing in on me + like a solid wall. I leant back against the gate; I was not frightened, + but I was mightily excited. The man like Cæsar looked fiercely at me, + swayed a long way back on his haunches, and imperiously motioned the crowd + to recede. + </p> + <p> + “Señor Inglesito,” he said, “the gift I have the honour to ask of you is + the price of my protection. Without it these, my brothers, will tear you + limb from limb, there will nothing of you remain.” + </p> + <p> + His brothers set up a stealthy, sinister growl, that went round among the + heads like the mutter of an obscene echo among the mountain-tops. I + wondered whether this, perhaps, was the man who, O’Brien said, would put a + knife in my back. I hadn’t any knife; I might knock the fellow’s teeth + down his throat, though. + </p> + <p> + The <i>alcayde</i> thrust his immense hat, blood-red face, and long, + ragged, silver locks out of the little door. His features were convulsed + with indignation. He had been whispering with the Civil Guard. + </p> + <p> + “Are you mad, gentlemen?” he said. “Do you wish to visit hell before your + times? Do you know who the senor is? Did you ever hear of Carlos el + Demonio? This is the <i>Inglesito</i> of Rio Medio!” + </p> + <p> + It was plain that my deeds, such as they were, reported by O’Brien spies, + by the <i>Lugareños</i>, by all sorts of credulous gossipers, had got me + the devil of a reputation in the <i>patio</i> of the jail. Men detached + themselves from the crowd, and went running about to announce my arrival. + The <i>alcayde</i> drew his long body into the <i>patio</i>, and turned to + lock the little door with an immense key. In the crowd all sorts of little + movements happened. Women crossed themselves, and furtively thrust pairs + of crooked, skinny, brown, black-nailed fingers in my direction. The man + like Cæsar said: + </p> + <p> + “I ask your pardon, Señor Caballero. I did not know. How could I tell? You + are free of all the <i>patios</i> in this land.” + </p> + <p> + The tall <i>alcayde</i> finished grinding the immense key in the lock, and + touched me on the arm. + </p> + <p> + “If the senor will follow me,” he said. “I will do the honours of this + humble mansion, and indicate a choice of rooms where he may be free from + the visits of these gentry.” + </p> + <p> + We went up steps, and through long, shadowy corridors, with here and there + a dark, lounging figure, like a stag seen in the dim aisles of a wood. The + <i>alcayde</i> threw open a door. + </p> + <p> + The room was like a blazing oblong-box, filled with light, but without + window or chimney. Two men were fencing in the illumination of some twenty + candles stuck all round the mildewed white walls on lumps of clay. There + was a blaze of silver things, like an altar of a wealthy church, from a + black, carved table in the far corner. The two men, in shirts and + breeches, revolved round each other, their rapiers clinking, their left + arms scarved, holding buttoned daggers. The <i>alcayde</i> proclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Don Vincente Salazar, I have the honour to announce an English senor.” + </p> + <p> + The man with his face to me tossed his rapier impatiently into a corner. + He was a plump, dark Cuban, with a brooding truculence. The other faced + round quickly. His cheeks shone in the candle-light like polished yellow + leather, his eyes were narrow slits, his face lugubrious. He scrutinized + me intently, then drawled: + </p> + <p> + “My! You?... Hang me if I didn’t think it would be you!” + </p> + <p> + He had the air of surveying a monstrosity, and pulled the neck of his + dirty print shirt open, panting. He slouched out into the corridor, and + began whispering eagerly to the <i>alcayde</i>. The little Cuban glowered + at me; I said I had the honour to salute him. + </p> + <p> + He muttered something contemptuous between his teeth. Well, if he didn’t + want to talk to me, I didn’t want to talk to him. It had struck me that + the tall, sallow man was undoubtedly the second mate of the <i>Thames</i>. + Nicholas, the real Nikola el Escoces! The Cuban grumbled suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “You, Señor, are without doubt one of the spies of that friend of the + priests, that O’Brien. Tell him to beware—that I bid him beware. I, + Don Vincente Salazar de Valdepefias y Forli y...” + </p> + <p> + I remembered the name; he was once the suitor of Seraphina—the man + O’Brien had put out of the way. He continued with a grotesque frown of + portentous significance: + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow I leave this place. And your compatriot is very much afraid, + Señor. Let him fear! Let him fear! But a thousand spies should not save + him.” + </p> + <p> + The tall <i>alcayde</i> came hurriedly back and stood bowing between us. + He apologized abjectly to the Cuban for intruding me upon him. But the + room was the best in the place at the disposal of the prisoners of the + Juez O’Brien. And I was a noted <i>caballero</i>. Heaven knows what I had + not done in Rio Medio. Burnt, slain, ravished.... The Señor Juez was + understood to be much incensed against me. The gloomy Cuban at once rushed + upon me, as if he would have taken me into his arms. + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Inglesito</i> of Rio Medio!” he said. “Ha, ha! Much have I heard + of you. Much of the senor’s valiance! Many tales! That foul eater of the + carrion of the priests wishes your life! Ah, but let him beware! I shall + save you, Señor—I, Don Vincente Salazar.” + </p> + <p> + He presented me with the room—a remarkably bare place but for his + properties: silver branch candlesticks, a silver chafing-dish as large as + a basin. They might have been chased by Cellini—one used to find + things like that in Cuba in those days, and Salazar was the person to have + them. Afterwards, at the time of the first insurrection, his eight-mule + harness was sold for four thousand pounds in Paris—by reason of the + gold and pearls upon it. The atmosphere, he explained, was fetid, but his + man was coming to burn sandal-wood and beat the air with fans. + </p> + <p> + “And to-morrow!” he said, his eyes rolling. Suddenly he stopped. “Señor,” + he said, “is it true that my venerated friend, my more than father, has + been murdered—at the instigation of that fiend? Is it true that the + senorita has disappeared? These tales are told.” + </p> + <p> + I said it was very true. + </p> + <p> + “They shall be avenged,” he declared, “to-morrow! I shall seek out the + senorita. I shall find her. I shall find her! For me she was destined by + my venerable friend.” + </p> + <p> + He snatched a black velvet jacket from the table and put it on. + </p> + <p> + “Afterwards, Señor, you shall relate. Have no fear. I shall save you. I + shall save all men oppressed by this scourge of the land. For the moment + afford me the opportunity to meditate.” He crossed his arms, and dropped + his round head. “Alas, yes!” he meditated. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he waved towards the door. “Señor,” he said swiftly, “I must have + air; I stifle. Come with me to the corridor....” + </p> + <p> + He went towards the window giving on to the <i>patio</i>; he stood in the + shadow, his arms folded, his head hanging dejectedly. At the moment it + grew suddenly dark, as if a veil had been thrown over a lamp. The sun had + set outside the walls. A drum began to beat. Down below in the obscurity + the crowd separated into three strings and moved slowly towards the barren + tunnels. Under our feet the white shirts disappeared; the ragged crowd + gravitated to the left; the small children strung into the square + cage-door. The drum beat again and the crowd hurried. Then there was a + clang of closing grilles and lights began to show behind the bars from + deep recesses. In a little time there was a repulsive hash of heads and + limbs to be seen under the arches vanishing a long way within, and a + little light washed across the gravel of the <i>patio</i> from within. + </p> + <p> + “Señor,” the Cuban said suddenly, “I will pronounce his panegyric. He was + a man of a great gentleness, of an inevitable nobility, of an invariable + courtesy. Where, in this degenerate age, shall we find the like!” He + stopped to breathe a sound of intense exasperation. + </p> + <p> + “When I think of these Irish,...” he said. “Of that O’Brien....” A servant + was arranging the shining room that we had left. Salazar interrupted + himself to give some orders about a banquet, then returned to me. “I tell + you I am here for introducing my knife to the spine of some sort of Madrid + <i>embustero</i>, a man who was insolent to my <i>amiga</i> Clara. Do you + believe that for that this O’Brien, by the influence of the priests whose + soles he licks with his tongue, has had me inclosed for many months? + Because he feared me! Aha! I was about to expose him to the noble don who + is now dead! I was about to wed the Señorita who has disappeared. But + to-morrow... I shall expose his intrigue to the Captain-General. You, + Señor, shall be my witness! I extend my protection to you....” He crossed + his arms and spoke with much deliberation. “Señor, this Irishman + incommodes me, Don Vincente Salazar de Valdepeñas y Forli....” He nodded + his head expressively. “Señor, we offered these Irish the shelter of our + robe for that your Government was making martyrs of them who were good + Christians, and it behoves us to act in despite of your Government, who + are heretics and not to be tolerated upon God’s Christian earth. But, + Señor, if they incommoded your Government as they do us, I do not wonder + that there was a desire to remove them. Señor, the life of that man is not + worth the price of eight mules, which is the price I have paid for my + release. I might walk free at this moment, but it is not fitting that I + should slink away under cover of darkness. I shall go out in the daylight + with my carriage. And I will have an offering to show my friends who, like + me, are incommoded by this....” The man was a monomaniac; but it struck me + that, if I had been O’Brien, I should have felt uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + In the dark of the corridor a long shape appeared, lounging. The Cuban + beside me started hospitably forward. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Vamos</i>,” he said briskly; “to the banquet....” He waved his hand + towards the shining door and stood aside. We entered. + </p> + <p> + The other man was undoubtedly the Nova Scotian mate of the <i>Thames</i>, + the man who had dissuaded me from following Carlos on the day we sailed + into Kingston Harbour. He was chewing a toothpick, and at the ruminant + motion of his knife-jaws I seemed to see him, sitting naked to the waist + in his bunk, instead of upright there in red trousers and a blue shirt—an + immense lank-length of each. I pieced his history together in a sort of + flash. He was the true Nikola el Escoces; his name was Nichols, and he + came from Nova Scotia. He had been the chief of O’Brien’s <i>Lugareños</i>. + He surveyed me now with a twinkle in his eyes, his yellow jaws as + shiny-shaven as of old; his arms as much like a semaphore. He said + mockingly: + </p> + <p> + “So you went there, after all?” + </p> + <p> + But the Cuban was pressing us towards his banquet; there was <i>gaspacho</i> + in silver plates, and a man in livery holding something in a napkin. It + worried me. We surveyed each other in silence. I wondered what Nichols + knew; what it would be safe to tell him; how much he could help me? One or + other of these men undoubtedly might. The Cuban was an imbecile; but he + might have some influence—and if he really were going out on the + morrow, and really did go to the Captain-General, he certainly could + further his own revenge on O’Brien by helping me.... But as for + Nichols.... + </p> + <p> + Salazar began to tell a long, exaggerated story about his cook, whom he + had imported from Paris. + </p> + <p> + “Think,” he said; “I bring the fool two thousand miles—and then—not + even able to begin on a land-crab. A fool!” + </p> + <p> + The Nova Scotian cast an uninterested side glance at him, and said in + English, which Salazar did not understand: + </p> + <p> + “So you went there, after all? And now <i>he’s</i> got you.” I did not + answer him. “I know all about you,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “It’s more than I do about you,” I said. + </p> + <p> + He rose and suddenly jerked the door open, peered on each side of the + corridor, and then sat down again. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not afraid to tell,” he said defiantly. “I’m not afraid of anything. + I’m safe.” + </p> + <p> + The Cuban said to me in Spanish: “This senor is my friend. Everyone who + hates that devil is my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m safe,” Nichols repeated. “I know too much about our friend the + raparee.” He lowered his voice. “They say you’re to be given up for + piracy, eh?” His eyes had an extraordinarily anxious leer. “You are now, + eh? For how much? Can’t you tell a man? We’re in the same boat! I kin help + you!” + </p> + <p> + Salazar accidentally knocked a silver goblet off the table and, at the + sound, Nichols sprang half off his chair. He glared in a wild stare around + him then grasped at a flagon of <i>aguardiente</i> and drank. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not afraid of any damn thing” he said. “I’ve got a hold on that man. + He dursen’t give me up. I kin see! He’s going to give you up and say + you’re responsible for it all.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what he’s going to do,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Will you not, Señor,” Salazar said suddenly, “relate, if you can without + distress, the heroic death of that venerated man?” + </p> + <p> + I glanced involuntarily at Nichols. “The distress,” I said, “would be very + great. I was Don Balthasar’s kinsman. The Señor O’Brien had a great fear + of my influence in the Casa. It was in trying to take me away that Don + Balthasar, who defended me, was slain by the <i>Lugareños</i> of O’Brien.” + </p> + <p> + Salazar said, “Aha! Aha! We are kindred spirits. Hated and loved by the + same souls. This fiend, Señor. And then....” + </p> + <p> + “I escaped by sea—in an open boat, in the confusion. When I reached + Havana, the <i>Juez</i> had me arrested.” + </p> + <p> + Salazar raised both hands; his gestures, made for large, grave men, were + comic in him. They reduced Spanish manners to absurdity. He said: + </p> + <p> + “That man dies. That man dies. To-morrow I go to the Captain-General. He + shall hear this story of yours, Señor. He shall know of these machinations + which bring honest men to this place. We are a band of brothers....” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what I say.” Nichols leered at me. “We’re all in the same boat.” + </p> + <p> + I expect he noticed that I wasn’t moved by his declaration. He said, still + in English: + </p> + <p> + “Let us be open. Let’s have a council of war. This O’Brien hates me + because I wouldn’t fire on my own countrymen.” He glanced furtively at me. + “I wouldn’t,” he asserted; “he wanted me to fire into their boats; but I + wouldn’t. Don’t you believe the tales they tell about me! They tell worse + about you. Who says I would fire on my countrymen? Where’s the man who + says it?” He had been drinking more brandy and glared ferociously at me. + “None of your tricks, my hearty,” he said. “None of your getting out and + spreading tales. O’Brien’s my friend; he’ll never give me up. He dursen’t. + I know too much. You’re a pirate! No doubt it was you who fired into them + boats. By God I’ll be witness against you if they give me up. I’ll show + you up.” + </p> + <p> + All the while the little Cuban talked swiftly and with a saturnine + enthusiasm. He passed the wine rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “My own countrymen!” Nichols shouted. “Never! I shot a Yankee lieutenant—Allen + he was—with my own hand. That’s another thing. I’m not a man to + trifle with. No, sir. Don’t you try it.... Why, I’ve papers that would + hang O’Brien. I sent them home to Halifax. I know a trick worth his. By + God, let him try it! Let him only try it. He dursen’t give me up....” + </p> + <p> + The man in livery came in to snuff the candles. Nichols sprang from his + seat in a panic and drew his knife with frantic haste. He continued, + glaring at me from the wall, the knife in his hand: + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you dream of tricks. I’ve cut more throats than you’ve kissed gals + in your little life.” + </p> + <p> + Salazar himself drew an immense pointed knife with a shagreen hilt. He + kissed it rapturously. + </p> + <p> + “Aha!... Aha!” he said, “bear this kiss into his ribs at the back.” His + eyes glistened with this mania. “I swear it; when I next see this dog; + this friend of the priests.” He threw the knife on the table. “Look,” he + said, “was ever steel truer or more thirsty?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you make no mistake,” Nichols continued to me. “Don’t you think to + presume. O’Brien’s my friend. I’m here snug and out of the way of the old + fool of an admiral. That’s why he’s kept waiting off the Morro. When he + goes, I walk out free. Don’t you try to frighten me. I’m not a man to be + frightened.” + </p> + <p> + Salazar bubbled: “Ah, but now the wine flows and is red. We are a band of + brothers, each loving the other. Brothers, let us drink.” + </p> + <p> + The air of close confinement, the blaze, the feel of the jail, pressed + upon me, and I felt sore, suddenly, at having eaten and drunk with those + two. The idea of Seraphina, asleep perhaps, crying perhaps, something pure + and distant and very blissful, came in upon me irresistibly. + </p> + <p> + The little Cuban said, “We have had a very delightful conversation. It is + very plain this O’Brien must die.” + </p> + <p> + I rose to my feet. “Gentlemen,” I said in Spanish, “I am very weary; I + will go and sleep in the corridor.” + </p> + <p> + The Cuban sprang towards me with an immense anxiety of hospitableness. I + was to sleep on his couch, the couch of cloth of gold. It was impossible, + it was insulting, that I should think of sleeping in the corridor. He + thrust me gently down upon it, making with his plump hands the motions of + smoothing it to receive me. I lay down and turned my face to the wall. + </p> + <p> + It wasn’t possible to sleep, even though the little Cuban, with a tender + solicitude, went round the walls blowing out the candles. He might be + useful to me, might really explain matters to the Captain-General, or + might even, as a last resource, take a letter from me to the British + Consul. But I should have to be alone with him. Nichols was an abominable + scoundrel; bloodthirsty to the defenceless; a liar; craven before the + ghost of a threat. No doubt O’Brien did not want to give him up. Perhaps + he <i>had</i> papers. And no doubt, once he could find a trace of + Seraphina’s whereabouts, O’Brien would give me up. All I could do was to + hope for a gain of time. And yet, if I gained time, it could only mean + that I should in the end be given up to the admiral. + </p> + <p> + And Seraphina’s whereabouts. It came over me lamentably that I myself did + not know. The <i>Lion</i> might have sailed. It was possible. She might be + at sea. Then, perhaps, my only chance of ever seeing her again lay in my + being given up to the admiral, to stand in England a trial, perhaps for + piracy, perhaps for treason. I might meet her only in England, after many + years of imprisonment. It wasn’t possible. I would not believe in the + possibility. How I loved her! How wildly, how irrationally—this + woman of another race, of another world, bound to me by sufferings + together, by joys together. Irrationally! Looking at the matter now, the + reason is plain enough. Before then I had not lived. I had only waited—for + her and for what she stood for. It was in my blood, in my race, in my + tradition, in my training. We, all of us for generations, had made for + efficiency, for drill, for restraint. Our Romance was just this very + Spanish contrast, this obliquity of vision, this slight tilt of the convex + mirror that shaped the same world so differently to onlookers at different + points of its circle. + </p> + <p> + I could feel a little of it even then, when there was only the merest + chance of my going back to England and getting back towards our old + position on the rim of the mirror. The deviousness, the wayward passion, + even the sempiternal abuses of the land were already beginning to take the + aspect of something like quaint impotence. It was charm that, now I was on + the road away, was becoming apparent. The inconveniences of life, the + physical discomforts, the smells of streets, the heat, dropped into the + background. I felt that I did not want to go away, irrevocably from a land + sanctioned by her presence, her young life. I turned uneasily to the other + side. At the heavy black table, in the light of a single candle, the Cuban + and the Nova Scotian were discussing, their heads close together. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you no,” Nichols was saying in a fluent, abominable, literal + translation into Spanish. “Take the knife so... thumb upwards. Stab down + in the soft between the neck and the shoulder-blade. You get right into + the lungs with the point. I’ve tried it: ten times. Never stick the back. + The chances are he moves, and you hit a bone. There are no bones there. + It’s the way they kill pigs in New Jersey.” + </p> + <p> + The Cuban bent his brows as if he were reflecting over a chessboard. + “Ma....” he pondered. His knife was lying on the table. He unsheathed it, + then got up, and moved behind the seated Nova Scotian. + </p> + <p> + “You say... there?” he asked, pressing his little finger at the base of + Nichols’ skinny column of a neck. “And then...” He measured the length of + the knife on Nichols’s back twice with elaborate care, breathing through + his nostrils. Then he said with a convinced, musing air, “It is true. It + would go down into the lungs.” + </p> + <p> + “And there are arteries and things,” Nichols said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” the Cuban answered, sheathing the knife and thrusting it into + his belt. + </p> + <p> + “With a knife that length it’s perfect.” Nichols waved his shadowy hand + towards Salazar’s scarf. Salazar moved off a little. + </p> + <p> + “I see the advantages,” he said. “No crying out, because of the blood in + the lungs. I thank yous Señor Escoces.” + </p> + <p> + Nichols rose, lurching to his full height, and looked in my direction. I + closed my eyes. I did not wish him to talk to me. I heard him say: + </p> + <p> + “Well, <i>hasta mas ver</i>. I shall get away from here. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + He swayed an immense shadow through the door. Salazar took the candle and + followed him into the corridor. + </p> + <p> + Yes, that was it, why she was so great a part, a whole wall, a whole beam + of my life’s house. I saw her suddenly in the blackness, her full red + lips, her quivering nostrils, the curve of her breasts, her lithe + movements from the hips, the way she set her feet down, the white flower + waxen in the darkness of her hair, and the robin-wing flutter of her lids + over her gray eyes when she smiled. I moved convulsively in my intense + desire. I would have given my soul, my share of eternity, my honour, only + to see that flutter of the lids over the shining gray eyes. I never felt I + was beneath the imponderable pressure of a prison’s wall till then. She + was infinite miles away; I could not even imagine what inanimate things + surrounded her. She must be talking to someone else; fluttering her lids + like that. I recognized with a physical agony that was more than jealousy + how slight was my hold upon her. It was not in her race, in her blood as + in mine, to love me and my type. She had lived all her life in the middle + of Romance, and the very fire and passion of her South must make me dim + prose to her. I remember the flicker of Salazar’s returning candle, cast + in lines like an advancing scythe across the two walls from the corridor. + I slept. + </p> + <p> + I had the feeling of appalled horror suddenly invading my sleep; a vast + voice seemed to be exclaiming: + </p> + <p> + “Tell me where she is!” + </p> + <p> + I looked at the glowing horn of a lanthorn. It was O’Brien who held it. He + stood over me, very sombre. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me where she is,” he said, the moment my eyes opened. + </p> + <p> + I said, “She’s... she’s———I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + It appalls me even now to think how narrow was my escape. It was only + because I had gone to sleep in the thought that I did not know, that I + answered that I did not know. Ah—he was a cunning devil! To suddenly + wake one; to get one’s thoughts before one had had time to think! I lay + looking at him, shivering. I couldn’t even see much of his face. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” he said again. “Where? Dead? Dead? God have mercy on your + soul if the child is dead!” + </p> + <p> + I was still trembling. If I had told him!—I could hardly believe I + had not. He continued bending over me with an attitude that hideously + mocked solicitude. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” he asked again. + </p> + <p> + “Ransack the island,” I said. He glared at me, lifting the lamp. “The + whole earth, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + He ground his teeth, bending very low over me; then stood up, raising his + head into the shadow above the lamp. + </p> + <p> + “What do I care for all the admirals?” he was speaking to himself. “No + ship shall leave Havana till....” He groaned. I heard him slap his + forehead, and say distractedly, “But perhaps she is not in a ship.” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence in which I heard him breathe heavily, and then he + amazed me by saying: + </p> + <p> + “Have pity.” + </p> + <p> + I laughed, lying on my back. “On you!” + </p> + <p> + He bent down. “Fool! on yourself.” + </p> + <p> + A vast and towering shadow ran along the wall. + </p> + <p> + There wasn’t a sound. The face of Salazar appeared behind him, and an + uplifted hand grasping a knife. O’Brien saw the horror in my eyes. I + gasped to him: “Look....” and before he could move the knife went softly + home between neck and shoulder. Salazar glided to the door and turned to + wave his hand at me. O’Brien’s lips were pressed tightly together, the + handle of the knife was against his ear, the lanthorn hung at the end of + his rigid arm for a moment. As he lowered it, the blood spurted from his + shoulder as if from a burst stand-pipe, only black and warm. It fell over + my face, over my hands, everywhere. For a minute of eternity his agonized + eyes searched my features, as if to discern whether I had connived, + whether I condoned. + </p> + <p> + I had started up, my face coming right against his. I felt an immense + horror. What did it mean? What had he done? He had been such a power for + so long, so inevitably, over my whole life that I could not even begin to + understand that this was not some new subtle villainy of his. He shook his + head slowly, his ear disturbing the knife. + </p> + <p> + Then he turned jerkily on his heel, the lanthorn swinging round and + leaving me in his shadow. There were ten paces to reach the door. It was + like the finish of a race whether he would cover the remaining seven after + the first three steps. The dangling lanthorn shed small patches of light + through the holes in the metal top, like sunlight through leaves, upon the + gloom of the remote ceiling. At the fifth step he pressed his hand + spasmodically to his mouth; at the sixth he wavered to one side. I made a + sudden motion as if to save him from falling. He was dying! He was dying! + I hardly realized what it meant. This immense weight was being removed + from me. I had no need to fear him any more. I couldn’t understand, I + could only look. This was his passing. This.... + </p> + <p> + He sank, knelt down, placing the Ian thorn on the floor. He covered his + face with his hands and began to cough incessantly, like a man dying of + consumption. The glowing top of the lanthorn hissed and sputtered out in + little sharp blows, like hammer strokes... Carlos had coughed like that. + Carlos was dead. Now O’Brien! He was going. I should escape. It was all + over. Was it all over? He bowed stiffly forward, placing his hands on the + stones, then lay over on his side with his face to the light, his eyes + glaring at it. I sat motionless, watching him. The lanthorn lit the carved + leg of the black table and a dusty circle of the flags. The spurts of + blood from his shoulder grew less long in answer to the pulsing of his + heart; his fists unclenched, he drew his legs up to his body, then sank + down. His eyes looked suddenly at mine and, as the features slowly + relaxed, the smile seemed to come back, enigmatic, round his mouth. + </p> + <p> + He was dead; he was gone; I was free! He would never know where she was; + never! He had gone, with the question on his lips; with the agony of + uncertainty in his eyes. From the door came an immense, grotesque, and + horrible chuckle. + </p> + <p> + “Aha!-Aha! I have saved you, Señor, I have protected you. We are as + brothers.” + </p> + <p> + Against the tenuous blue light of the dawn Salazar was gesticulating in + the doorway. I felt a sudden repulsion; a feeling of intense disgust. + O’Brien lying there, I almost wished alive again—I wanted to have + him again, rather than that I should have been relieved of him by that + atrocious murder. I sat looking at both of them. + </p> + <p> + Saved! By that lunatic? I suddenly appreciated the agony of mind that + alone could have brought O’Brien, the cautious, the all-seeing, into this + place—. to ask me a question that for him was answered now. Answered + for him more than for me. + </p> + <p> + Where was Seraphina? Where? How should I come to her? O’Brien was dead. + And I.... Could I walk out of this place and go to her? O’Brien was dead. + But I... + </p> + <p> + I suddenly realized that now I was the pirate Nikola el Escoces—that + now he was no more there, nothing could save me from being handed over to + the admiral. Nothing. + </p> + <p> + Salazar outside the door began to call boastfully towards the sound of + approaching footsteps.’ + </p> + <p> + “Aha! Aha! Come all of you! See what I have done! Come, Señor Alcayde! + Come, brave soldiers...” + </p> + <p> + In that way died this man whose passion had for so long hung over my life + like a shadow. Looking at the matter now, I am, perhaps, glad that he fell + neither by my hand nor in my quarrel. I assuredly had injured him the + first; I had come upon his ground; I had thwarted him; I had been a heavy + weight at a time when his fortunes had been failing. Failing they + undoubtedly were. He had run his course too far. + </p> + <p> + And, if his death removed him out of my path, the legacy of his intrigue + caused me suffering enough. Had he lived, there is no knowing what he + might have done. He was bound to deliver someone to the British—either + myself or Nichols. Perhaps, at the last moment, he would have kept me in + Havana. There is no saying. + </p> + <p> + Undoubtedly he had not wished to deliver Nichols; either because he really + knew too much or because he had scruples. Nichols had certainly been + faithful to him. And, with his fine irony, it was delightful to him to + think that I should die a felon’s death in England. For those reasons he + had identified me with Nikola el Escoces, intending to give up whichever + suited him at the last moment. + </p> + <p> + Now that was settled for him and for me. The delivery was to take place at + dawn, and O’Brien not to be found, the old Judge of the First Instance had + been sent to identify the prisoner. He selected me, whom, of course, he + recognized. There was no question of Nichols, who had been imprisoned on a + charge of theft trumped up by O’Brien. + </p> + <p> + Salazar, whether he would have gone to the Captain-General or not, was now + entirely useless. He was retained to answer the charge of murder. And to + any protestations I could make, the old <i>Juez</i> was entirely deaf. + </p> + <p> + “The senor must make representations to his own authorities,” he said. “I + have warrant for what I have done.” + </p> + <p> + It was impossible to expose O’Brien to him. The soldiers of the escort, in + the dawn before the prison gates, simply laughed at me. + </p> + <p> + They marched me down through the gray mists, to the water’s edge. Two + soldiers held my arms; O’Brien’s blood was drying on my face and on my + clothes. I was, even to myself, a miserable object. Among the négresses on + the slimy boat-steps a thick, short man was asking questions. He opened + amazed eyes at the sight of me. It was Williams—the <i>Lion</i> was + not yet gone then. If he spoke to me, or gave token of connection with + Seraphina, the Spaniards would understand. They would take her from him + certainly; perhaps immure her in a convent. And now that I was bound + irrevocably for England, she must go, too. He was shouldering his way + towards my guards. + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” I shouted, without looking at him. “Go away, make sail.... Tell + Sebright....” + </p> + <p> + My guards seemed to think I had gone mad; they laid hands upon me. I + didn’t struggle, and we passed down towards the landing steps, brushing + Williams aside. He stood perturbedly gazing after me; then I saw him + asking questions of a civil guard. A man-of-war’s boat, the ensign + trailing in the glassy water, the glazed hats of the seamen bobbing like + clockwork, was flying towards us. Here was England! Here was home! I + should have to clear myself of felony, to strain every nerve and cheat the + gallows. If only Williams understood, if only he did not make a fool of + himself. I couldn’t see him any more; a jabbering crowd all round us was + being kept at a distance by the muskets of the soldiers. My only chance + was Sebright’s intelligence. He might prevent Williams making a fool of + himself. The commander of the guard said to the lieutenant from the + flagship, who had landed, attended by the master-at-arms: + </p> + <p> + “I have the honour to deliver to your worship’s custody the prisoner + promised to his excellency the English admiral. Here are the papers + disclosing his crimes to the justice. I beg for a receipt.” + </p> + <p> + A shabby <i>escrivano</i> from the prison advanced bowing, with an + inkhorn, shaking a wet goose-quill. A <i>guardia civil</i> offered his + back. The lieutenant signed a paper hastily, then looking hard at me, gave + the order: + </p> + <p> + “Master-at-arms, handcuff one of the prisoner’s hands to your own wrist. + He is a desperate character.” + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER THREE + </h3> + <p> + The first decent word I had spoken to me after that for months came from + my turnkey at Newgate. It was when he welcomed me back from my examination + before the Thames Court magistrate. The magistrate, a bad-tempered man, + snuffy, with red eyes, and the air of being a piece of worn and dirty + furniture of his court, had snapped at me when I tried to speak: + </p> + <p> + “Keep your lies for the Admiralty Session. I’ve only time to commit you. + Damn your Spaniards; why can’t they translate their own papers;” had + signed something with a squeaky quill, tossed it to his clerk, and + grunted, “Next case.” + </p> + <p> + I had gone back to Newgate. + </p> + <p> + The turnkey, a man with the air of an innkeeper, bandy-legged, with a + bulbous, purple-veined nose and watering eyes, slipped out of the + gatehouse door, whilst the great, hollow-sounding gate still shook behind + me. He said: + </p> + <p> + “If you hurries up you’ll see a bit of life.... Do you good. Condemned + sermon. Being preached in the chapel now; sheriffs and all. They swing + tomorrow—three of them. Quick with the stumps.” + </p> + <p> + He hurried me over the desolate mossy-green cobbles of the great solitary + yard into a square, tall, bare, whitewashed place. Already from the + outside one caught a droning voice. There might have been three hundred + people there, boxed off in pews, with turnkeys at each end. A vast king’s + arms, a splash of red and blue gilt, sprawled above a two-tiered pulpit + that was like the trunk of a large broken tree. The turnkey pulled my hat + off, and nudged me into a box beside the door. + </p> + <p> + “Kneel down,” he whispered hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + I knelt. A man with a new wig was droning out words, waving his hands now + and then from the top of the tall pulpit. Beneath him a smaller man in an + old wig was dozing, his head bent forward. The place was dirty, and + ill-lighted by the tall, grimy windows, heavily barred. A pair of candles + flickered beside the preacher’s right arm.... + </p> + <p> + “They that go down to the sea in ships, my poor brethren,” he droned, + “lying under the shadow...” + </p> + <p> + He directed his hands towards a tall deal box painted black, isolated in + the centre of the lower floor. A man with a red head sat in it, his arms + folded; another had his arms covering his head, which leant abjectly + forward on the rail in front. There were large rusty gyves upon his + wrists. + </p> + <p> + “But observe, my poor friends,” the chaplain droned on, “the psalmist + saith, ‘At the last He shall bring them unto the desired haven.’ Now...” + </p> + <p> + The turnkey whispered suddenly into my ear: “Them’s the condemned he’s + preaching at, them in the black pew. See Roguey Cullen wink at the woman + prisoners up there in the gallery.... Him with the red hair.... All swings + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “After they have staggered and reeled to and fro, and been amazed... + observe. After they have been tempted; even after they have fallen....” + </p> + <p> + The sheriffs had their eyes decorously closed. The clerk reached up from + below the preacher, and snuffed one of the candles. The preacher paused to + rearrange his shining wig. Little clouds of powder flew out where he + touched it. He struck his purple velvet cushion, and continued: + </p> + <p> + “At the last, I say, He shall bring them to the haven they had desired.” + </p> + <p> + A jarring shriek rose out of the black pew, and an insensate jangling of + irons rattled against the hollow wood. The ironed man, whose head had been + hidden, was writhing in an epileptic fit. The governor began signalling to + the jailers, and the whole dismal assembly rose to its feet, and craned to + get a sight. The jailers began hurrying them out of the building. The + redheaded man was crouching in the far corner of the black box. + </p> + <p> + The turnkey caught the end of my sleeve, and hurried me out of the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come away,” he said. “Come out of it.... Damn my good nature.” + </p> + <p> + We went swiftly through the tall, gloomy, echoing stone passages. All the + time there was the noise of the prisoners being marshalled somewhere into + their distant yards and cells. We went across the bottom of a well, where + the weeping December light struck ghastly down on to the stones, into a + sort of rabbit-warren of black passages and descending staircases, a + horror of cold, solitude, and night. Iron door after iron door clanged to + behind us in the stony blackness. After an interminable traversing, the + turnkey, still with his hand on my sleeve, jerked me into my familiar + cell. I hadn’t thought to be glad to get back to that dim, frozen, + damp-chilled little hole; with its hateful stone walls, stone ceiling, + stone floor, stone bed-slab, and stone table; its rope mat, foul + stable-blanket, its horrible sense of eternal burial, out of sound, out of + sight under a mined mountain of black stones. It was so tiny that the + turnkey, entering after me, seemed to be pressed close up to my chest, and + so dark that I could not see the colour of the dirty hair that fell matted + from the bald patch on the top of his skull; so familiar that I knew the + feel of every little worming of rust on the iron candlestick. He wiped his + face with a brown rag of handkerchief, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Curse me if ever I go into that place again.” After a time he added: + “Unless ’tis a matter of duty.” + </p> + <p> + I didn’t say anything; my nerves were still jangling to that shrieking, + and to the clang of the iron doors that had closed behind me. I had an + irresistible impulse to get hold of the iron candlestick and smash it home + through the skull of the turnkey—as I had done to the men who had + killed Seraphina’s father... to kill this man, then to creep along the + black passages and murder man after man beside those iron doors until I + got to the open air. + </p> + <p> + He began again. “You’d think we’d get used to it—you’d think we + would—but ’tis a strain for us. You never knows what the prisoners + will do at a scene like that there. It drives ’em mad. Look at this scar. + Machell the forger done that for me, ’fore he was condemned, after a + sermon like that—a quiet, gentlemanly man, much like you. Lord, yes, + ’tis a strain....” He paused, still wiping his face, then went on: “<i>And</i> + I swear that when I sees them men sit there in that black pew, an’ hev + heard the hammers going clack, clack on the scaffolding outside, and knew + that they hadn’t no more chance than you have to get out of there...” He + pointed his short thumb towards the handkerchief of an opening, where the + little blurr of blue light wavered through the two iron frames crossed in + the nine feet of well. “Lord, you <i>never</i> gets used to it. You <i>wants</i> + them to escape; ’tis in the air through the whole prison, even the + debtors. I tells myself again and again, ‘You’re a fool for your pains.’ + But it’s the same with the others—my mates. You can’t get it out of + your mind. That little kid now. I’ve seen children swing; but that little + kid—as sure to swing as what... as what <i>you</i> are....” + </p> + <p> + “You think I am going to swing?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + I didn’t want to kill him any more; I wanted too much to hear him talk. I + hadn’t heard anything for months and months of solitude, of darkness—on + board the admiral’s ship, stranded in the guardship at Plymouth, bumping + round the coast, and now here in Newgate. And it had been darkness all the + time. Jove! That Cuban time, with its movements, its pettiness, its + intrigue, its warmth, even its villainies showed plainly enough in the + chill of that blackness. It had been romance, that life. + </p> + <p> + Little, and far away, and irrevocably done with, it showed all golden. + There wasn’t any romance where I lay then; and there had been irons on my + wrists; gruff hatred, the darkness, and always despair. + </p> + <p> + On board the flagship coming home I had been chained down in the + cable-tier—a place where I could feel every straining of the great + ship. Once these had risen to a pandemonium, a frightful tumult. There was + a great gale outside. A sailor came down with a lanthorn, and tossed my + biscuit to me. + </p> + <p> + “You d———d pirate,” he said, “maybe it’s you saving us + from drowning.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the gale very bad?” I had called. + </p> + <p> + He muttered—and the fact that he spoke to me at all showed how great + the strain of the weather must have been to wring any words out of him: + </p> + <p> + “Bad—there’s a large Indiaman gone. We saw her one minute and + then...” He went away, muttering. + </p> + <p> + And suddenly the thought had come to me. What if the Indiaman were the <i>Lion</i>—the + <i>Lion</i> with Seraphina on board? The man would not speak to me when he + came again. No one would speak to me; I was a pirate who had fired on his + own countrymen. And the thought had pursued me right into Newgate—if + she were dead; if I had taken her from that security, from that peace, to + end there.... And to end myself. + </p> + <p> + “Swing!” the turnkey said; “you’ll swing right enough.” He slapped the + great key on his flabby hand. “You can tell that by the signs. You, being + an Admiralty case, ought to have been in the Marshalsea. And you’re + ordered solitary cell, and I’m tipped the straight wink against your + speaking a blessed word to a blessed soul. Why don’t they let you see an + attorney? Why? Because they <i>mean</i> you to swing.” + </p> + <p> + I said, “Never mind that. Have you heard of a ship called the <i>Lion?</i> + Can you find out about her?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head cunningly, and did not answer. If the <i>Lion</i> had + been here, I must have heard. They couldn’t have left me here. + </p> + <p> + I said, “For God’s sake find out. Get me a shipping gazette.” + </p> + <p> + He affected not to hear. + </p> + <p> + “There’s money in plenty,” I said. + </p> + <p> + He winked ponderously and began again. “Oh, you’ll swing all right. A man + with nothing against him has a chance; with the rhino he has it, even if + he’s guilty. But you’ll <i>swing</i>. Charlie, who brought you back just + now, had a chat with the ’Torney-General’s devil’s clerk’s clerk, while + old Nog o’ Bow Street was trying to read their Spanish. He says it’s a + Gov’nment matter. They wants to hang you bad, they do, so’s to go to the + Jacky Spaniards and say, ‘He were a nob, a nobby nob.’ (So you are, aren’t + you? One uncle an earl and t’other a dean, if so be what they say’s true.) + ‘He were a nobby nob and we swung ’im. Go you’n do likewise.’ They want a + striking example t’ keep the West India trade quiet...” He wiped his + forehead and moved my water jug of red earth on the dirty deal table under + the window, for all the world like a host in front of a guest. “They means + you to swing,” he said. “They’ve silenced the Thames Court reporters. Not + a noospaper will publish a correct report t’morrer. And you haven’t see + nobody, nor you won’t, not if I can help it.” + </p> + <p> + He broke off and looked at me with an expression of candour. + </p> + <p> + “Mind you,” he said, “I’m not uffish. To ’n ornery gentleman—of the + road or what you will—I’m not, if so be he’s the necessary. I’d take + a letter like another. But for you, no—fear. Not that I’ve my knife + into you. What I can do to make you comfor’ble I will do, <i>both</i> now + an’ hereafter. But when I gets the wink, I looks after my skin. So’d any + man. You don’t see nobody, nor you won’t; nor your nobby relations won’t + have the word. Till the Hadmir’lty trile. Charlie says it’s + unconstitutional, you ought to see your ’torney, if you’ve one, or your + father’s got one. But Lor’, I says, ‘Charlie, if they wants it they gets + it. This ain’t no <i>habeas carpis</i>, give-the-man-a-chance case. It’s + the Hadmir’lty. And not a man tried for piracy this thirty year. See what + a show it gives them, what bloody Radicle knows or keeres what the + perceedin’s should be? Who’s a-goin’ t’ make a question out of it? Go + away,’ says I to Charlie. And that’s it straight.” + </p> + <p> + He went towards the door, then turned. + </p> + <p> + “You should be in the Marshalsea common yard; even I knows that. But + they’ve the wink there. ‘Too full,’ says they. Too full be d———d. + I’ve know’d the time—after the Vansdell smash it were—when + they found room for three hundred more improvident debtors over and above + what they’re charted for. Too full! Their common yard! They don’t want you + to speak to a soul, an’ you won’t till this day week, when the Hadmir’lty + Session is in full swing.” He went out and locked the door, snorting, “Too + full at the Marshalsea!... Go away!” + </p> + <p> + “Find out about the <i>Lion</i>,” I called, as the door closed. + </p> + <p> + It cleared the air for me, that speech. I understood that they wanted to + hang me, and I wanted not to be hung, desperately, from that moment. I had + not much cared before; I had—call it, moped. I had not really + believed, really sensed it out. It isn’t easy to conceive that one is + going to be hanged, I doubt if one does even with the rope round one’s + neck. I hadn’t much wanted to live, but now I wanted to fight—one + good fight before I went under for good and all, condemned or acquitted. + There wasn’t anything left for me to live for, Seraphina could not be + alive. The <i>Lion</i> must have been lost. + </p> + <p> + But I was going to make a fight for it; curse it, I was going to give them + trouble. My “them” was not so much the Government that meant to hang me as + the unseen powers that suffered such a state of things, that allowed a + number of little meannesses, accidents, fatalities, to hang me. I began to + worry the turnkey. He gave me no help, only shreds of information that let + me see more plainly than ever how set “they” were on sacrificing me to + their exigencies. + </p> + <p> + The whole West Indian trade in London was in an uproar over the Pirate + Question and over the Slave Question. Jamaica was still squealing for + Separation before the premonitory grumbles of Abolition. Horton Pen, over + there, came back with astonishing clearness before me. I seemed to hear + old, wall-eyed, sandy-headed Macdonald, agitating his immense bulk of + ill-fitting white clothes in front of his newspaper, and bellowing in his + ox-voice: + </p> + <p> + “Abolition, they give us Abolition... or ram it down our throats. <i>They</i> + who haven’t even the spunk to rid us o’ the d———d + pirates, not the spunk to catch and hang one.... Jock, me lahd, we’s + abolush them before they sail touch our neegurs.... Let them clear oor + seas, let them hang <i>one</i> pirate, and then talk.” + </p> + <p> + I was the one they were going to hang, to consolidate the bond with the + old island. The cement wanted a little blood in the mixing. Damn them! I + was going to make a fight; they had torn me from Seraphina, to fulfill + their own accursed ends. I felt myself grow harsh and strong, as a tree + feels itself grow gnarled by winter storms. I said to the turnkey again + and again: + </p> + <p> + “Man, I will promise you a thousand pounds or a pension for life, if you + will get a letter through to my mother or Squire Rooksby of Horton.” + </p> + <p> + He said he daren’t do it; enough was known of him to hang him if he gave + offence. His flabby fingers trembled, and his eyes grew large with + successive shocks of cupidity. He became afraid of coming near me; of the + strain of the temptation. On the next day he did not speak a word, nor the + next, nor the next. I began to grow horribly afraid of being hung. The day + before the trial arrived. Towards noon he flung the door open. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s paper, here’s pens,” he said. “You can prepare your defence. You + may write letters. Oh, hell! why did not they let it come sooner, I’d have + had your thousand pounds. I’ll run a letter down to your people fast as + the devil could take it. I know a man, a gentleman of the road. For twenty + pun promised, split between us, he’ll travel faster’n Turpin did to York.” + He was waving a large sheet of newspaper agitatedly. + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean?” I asked. My head was whirling. + </p> + <p> + “Radical papers got a-holt of it,” he said. “Trust them for nosing out. + And the Government’s answering them. They say you’re going to suffer for + your crimes. Hark to this... um, um... ‘The wretched felon now in Newgate + will incur the just penalty...’ Then they slaps the West Indies in the + face. ‘When the planters threaten to recur to some other power for + protection, they, of course, believe that the loss of the colonies would + be severely felt. But...’” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Lion’s</i> home,” I said. + </p> + <p> + It burst upon me that she was—that she must be. Williams—or + Sebright—he was the man, had been speaking up for me. Or Seraphina + had been to the Spanish ambassador. + </p> + <p> + She was back; I should see her. I started up. + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Lion’s</i> home,” I repeated. + </p> + <p> + The turnkey snarled, “She was posted as overdue three days ago.” + </p> + <p> + I couldn’t believe it was true. + </p> + <p> + “I saw it in the papers,” he grumbled on. “I dursn’t tell you.” He + continued violently, “Blow my dickey. It would make a cat sick.” + </p> + <p> + My sudden exaltation, my sudden despair, gave way to indifference. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, coming, coming!” he shouted, in answer to an immense bellowing cry + that loomed down the passage without. + </p> + <p> + I heard him grumble, “Of course, of course. I shan’t make a penny.” Then + he caught hold of my arm. “Here, come along, someone to see you in the + press-yard.” + </p> + <p> + He pulled me along the noisome, black warren of passages, slamming the + inner door viciously behind him. + </p> + <p> + The press-yard—the exercising ground for the condemned—was + empty; the last batch had gone out, <i>my</i> batch would be the next to + come in, the turnkey said suddenly. It was a well of a place, high black + walls going up into the desolate, weeping sky, and quite tiny. At one end + was a sort of slit in the wall, closed with tall, immense windows. From + there a faint sort of rabbit’s squeak was going up through the immense + roll and rumble of traffic on the other side of the wall. The turnkey + pushed me towards it. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he said. “I’ll not listen; I ought to. But, curse me, I’m not a + bad sort,” he added gloomily; “I dare say you’ll make it worth my while.” + </p> + <p> + I went and peered through the bars at a faint object pressed against other + bars in just another slit across a black passage. + </p> + <p> + “What, Jackie, boy; what, Jackie?” Blinking his eyes, as if the dim light + were too strong for them, a thin, bent man stood there in a brilliant new + court coat. His face was meagre in the extreme, the nose and cheekbones + polished and transparent like a bigaroon cherry. A thin tuft of reddish + hair was brushed back from his high, shining forehead. It was my father. + He exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “What, Jackie, boy! How old you look!” then waved his arm towards me. “In + trouble?” he said. “You in trouble?” + </p> + <p> + He rubbed his thin hands together, and looked round the place with a + cultured man’s air of disgust. I said, “Father!” and he suddenly began to + talk very fast and agitatedly of what he had been doing for me. My mother, + he said, was crippled with rheumatism, and Rooksby and Veronica on the + preceding Thursday had set sail for Jamaica. He had read to my mother, + beside her bed, the newspaper containing an account of my case; and she + had given him money, and he had started with violent haste for London. The + haste and the rush were still dazing him. He had lived down there in the + farmhouse beneath the downs, with the stackyards under his eyes, with his + books of verse and his few prints on the wall———My God, + how it all came back to me. + </p> + <p> + In his disjointed speeches, I could see how exactly the same it all + remained. The same old surly man with a squint had driven him along the + muddy roads in the same ancient gig, past the bare elms, to meet the + coach. And my father had never been in London since he had walked the + streets with the Prince Regent’s friends. + </p> + <p> + Whilst he talked to me there, lines of verse kept coming to his lips; and, + after the habitual pleasure of the apt quotation, he felt acutely shocked + at the inappropriateness of the place, the press-yard, with the dim light + weeping downwards between immensely high walls, and the desultory + snowflakes that dropped between us. And he had tried so hard, in his + emergency, to be practical. When he had reached London, before even + attempting to see me, he had run from minister to minister trying to + influence them in my favour—and he reached me in Newgate with + nothing at all effected. + </p> + <p> + I seemed to know him then, so intimately, so much better than anything + else in the world. + </p> + <p> + He began, “I had my idea in the up-coach last night. I thought, ‘A very + great personage was indebted to me in the old days (more indebted than you + are aware of, Johnnie). I will intercede with him.’ That was why my first + step was to my old tailor’s in Conduit Street. Because... what is fit for + a farm for a palace were low.” He stopped, reflected, then said, “What is + fit for <i>the</i> farm for <i>the</i> palace were low.” + </p> + <p> + He felt across his coat for his breast pocket. It was what he had done + years and years ago, and all these years between, inscribe ideas for lines + of verse in his pocket-book. I said: + </p> + <p> + “You have seen the king?” + </p> + <p> + His face lengthened a little. “Not <i>seen</i> him. But I found one of the + duke’s secretaries, a pleasant young fellow... not such as we used to be. + But the duke was kind enough to interest himself. Perhaps my name has + lived in the land. I was called Curricle Kemp, as I may have told you, + because I drove a vermilion one with green and gilt wheels....” + </p> + <p> + His face, peering at me through the bars, had, for a moment, a flush of + pride. Then he suddenly remembered, and, as if to propitiate his own + reproof, he went on: + </p> + <p> + “I saw the Secretary of State, and he assured me, very civilly, that not + even the highest personage in the land....” He dropped his voice, “Jackie, + boy,” he said, his narrow-lidded eyes peering miserably across at me, + “there’s not even hope of a reprieve afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + I leaned my face wearily against the iron bars. What, after all, was the + use of fighting if the <i>Lion</i> were not back? + </p> + <p> + Then, suddenly, as the sound of his words echoed down the bare, black + corridors, he seemed to realize the horror of it. His face grew absolutely + white, he held his head erect, as if listening to a distant sound. And + then he began to cry—horribly, and for a long time. + </p> + <p> + It was I that had to comfort him. His head had bowed at the conviction of + his hopeless uselessness; all through his own life he had been made + ineffectual by his indulgence in perfectly innocent, perfectly trivial + enjoyments, and now, in this extremity of his only son, he was rendered + almost fantastically of no avail. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, sir! You have done all that any one could; you couldn’t break + these walls down. Nothing else would help.” + </p> + <p> + Small, hopeless sobs shook him continually. His thin, delicate white + fingers gripped the black grille, with the convulsive grasp of a very weak + man. It was more distressing to me than anything I had ever seen or felt. + The mere desire, the intense desire to comfort him, made me get a grip + upon myself again. And I remembered that, now that I could communicate + with the outer air, it was absolutely easy; he would save my life. I said: + </p> + <p> + “You have only to go to Clapham, sir.” + </p> + <p> + And the moment I was in a state to command him, to direct him, to give him + something to do, he became a changed man. He looked up and listened. I + told him to go to Major Cowper’s. It would be easy enough to find him at + Clapham. Cowper, I remembered, could testify to my having been seized by + Tomas Castro. He had seen me fight on the decks. And what was more, he + would certainly know the addresses of Kingston planters, if any were in + London. They could testify that I had been in Jamaica all the while Nikola + el Escoces was in Rio Medio. I knew there were some. My father was + fidgeting to be gone. He had his name marked for him, and a will directing + his own. He was not the same man. But I particularly told him to send me a + lawyer first of all. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” he said, fidgeting to go, “to Major Cowper’s. Let me write his + address.” + </p> + <p> + “And a solicitor,” I said. “Send him to me on your way there.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” he said, “I shall be able to be of use to the solicitor. As a + rule, they are men of no great perspicacity.” + </p> + <p> + And he went hurriedly away. + </p> + <p> + The real torture, the agony of suspense began then. I steadied my nerves + by trying to draw up notes for my speech to the jury on the morrow. That + was the turnkey’s idea. + </p> + <p> + He said, “Slap your chest, ’peal to the honour of a British gent, and + pitch it in strong.” + </p> + <p> + It was not much good; I could not keep to any logical sequence of thought, + my mind was forever wandering to what my father was doing. I pictured him + in his new blue coat, running agitatedly through crowded streets, his + coat-tails flying behind his thin legs. The hours dragged on, and it was a + matter of minutes. I had to hold upon the table edge to keep myself from + raging about the cell. I tried to bury myself again in the scheme for my + defence. I wondered whom my father would have found. There was a man + called Cary who had gone home from Kingston. He had a bald head and blue + eyes; he must remember me. If he would corroborate! And the lawyer, when + he came, might take another line of defence. It began to fall dusk slowly, + through the small barred windows. + </p> + <p> + The entire night passed without a word from my father. I paced up and down + the whole time, composing speeches to the jury. And then the day broke. I + calmed myself with a sort of frantic energy. + </p> + <p> + Early the jailer came in, and began fussing about my cell. + </p> + <p> + “Case comes on about one,” he said. “Grand jury at half after twelve. No + fear they won’t return a true bill. Grand jury, five West India merchants. + They means to have you. ’Torney-General, S’lic’tor-General. S’r Robert + Mead, and five juniors agin you... You take my tip. Throw yourself on the + mercy of the court, and make a rousing speech with a young ’ooman in it. + Not that you’ll get much mercy from them. They Admir’lty jedges is all + hangers. ’S we say, ‘Oncet the anchor goes up in the Old Bailey, there + ain’t no hope. We begins to clean out the c’ndemned cell, here. Sticks the + anchor up over their heads, when it is Hadmir’lty case,’” he commented. + </p> + <p> + I listened to him with strained attention. I made up my mind to miss not a + word uttered that day. It was my only chance. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know any one from Jamaica?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + He shook his bullet head, and tapped his purple nose. “Can’t be done,” he + said. “You’d get a ornery hallybi fer a guinea a head, but they’d keep out + of this case. They’ve necks like you and me.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst he was speaking, the whole of the outer world, as far as it + affected me, came suddenly in upon me—that was what I meant to the + great city that lay all round, the world, in the centre of which was my + cell. To the great mass, I was matter for a sensation; to them I might + prove myself beneficial in this business. Perhaps there were others who + were thinking I might be useful in one way or another. There were the + ministers of the Crown, who did not care much whether Jamaica separated or + not. But they wanted to hang me because they would be able to say + disdainfully to the planters, “Separate if you like; we’ve done our duty, + we’ve hanged a man.” + </p> + <p> + All those people had their eyes on me, and they were about the only ones + who knew of my existence. That was the end of my Romance! Romance! The + broadsheet sellers would see to it afterwards with a “Dying confession.” + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h3> + <p> + I never saw my father again until I was in the prisoner’s anteroom at the + Old Bailey. It was full of lounging men, whose fleshy limbs bulged out + against the tight, loud checks of their coats and trousers. These were + jailers waiting to bring in their prisoners. On the other side of one + black door the Grand Jury was deliberating on my case, behind another the + court was in waiting to try me. I was in a sort of tired lull. All night I + had been pacing up and down, trying to bring my brain to think of points—points + in my defence. It was very difficult. I knew that I must keep cool, be + calm, be lucid, be convincing; and my brain had reeled at times, even in + the darkness of the cell. I knew it had reeled, because I remembered that + once I had fallen against the stone of one of the walls, and once against + the door. Here, in the light, with only a door between myself and the last + scene, I regained my hold. I was going to fight every inch from start to + finish. I was going to let no chink of their armour go untried. I was + going to make a good fight. My teeth chattered like castanets, jarring in + my jaws until it was painful. But that was only with the cold. + </p> + <p> + A hubbub of expostulation was going on at the third door. My turnkey + called suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “Let the genman in, Charlie. Pal o’ ourn,” and my father ran huntedly into + the room. He began an endless tale of a hackney coachman who had stood in + front of the door of his coach to prevent his number being taken; of a + crowd of caddee-smashers, who had hustled him and filched his purse. “Of + course, I made a fight for it,” he said, “a damn good fight, considering. + It’s in the blood. But the watch came, and, in short—on such an + occasion as this there is no time for words—I passed the night in + the watch-house. Many and many a night I passed there when I and Lord———But + I am losing time.” + </p> + <p> + “You ain’t fit to walk the streets of London alone, sir,” the turnkey + said. + </p> + <p> + My father gave him a corner of his narrow-lidded eyes. “My man,” he said, + “I walked the streets with the highest in the land before your mother bore + you in Bridewell, or whatever jail it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no offence,” the turnkey muttered. + </p> + <p> + I said, “Did you find Cowper, sir? Will he give evidence?” + </p> + <p> + “Jackie,” he said agitatedly, as if he were afraid of offending me, “he + said you had filched his wife’s rings.” + </p> + <p> + That, in fact, was what Major Cowper <i>had</i> said—that I had + dropped into their ship near Port Royal Heads, and had afterwards gone + away with the pirates who had filched his wife’s rings. My father, in his + indignation, had not even deigned to ask him for the address of Jamaica + planters in London; and on his way back to find a solicitor he had come + into contact with those street rowdies and the watch. He had only just + come from before the magistrates. + </p> + <p> + A man with one eye poked his head suddenly from behind the Grand Jury + door. He jerked his head in my direction. + </p> + <p> + “True bill against that ’ere,” he said, then drew his head in again. + </p> + <p> + “Jackie, boy,” my father said, putting a thin hand on my wrist, and gazing + imploringly into my eyes, “I’m... I’m ... I can’t tell you how....” + </p> + <p> + I said, “It doesn’t matter, father.” I felt a foretaste of how my past + would rise up to crush me. Cowper had let that wife of his coerce him into + swearing my life away. I remembered vividly his blubbering protestations + of friendship when I persuaded Tomas Castro to return him his black + deed-box with the brass handle, on that deck littered with rubbish.... + “Oh, God bless you, God bless you. You have saved me from starvation....” + There had been tears in his old blue eyes. “If you need it I will go + anywhere... do anything to help you. On the honour of a gentleman and a + soldier.” I had, of course, recommended his wife to give up her rings when + the pirates were threatening her in the cabin. The other door opened, + another man said: + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, in with that carrion. D’you want to keep the judges waiting?” + </p> + <p> + I stepped through the door straight down into the dock; there was a row of + spikes in the front of it. I wasn’t afraid; three men in enormous wigs and + ermine robes faced me; four in short wigs had their heads together like + parrots on a branch. A fat man, bareheaded, with a gilt chain round his + neck, slipped from behind into a seat beside the highest placed judge. He + was wiping his mouth and munching with his jaws. On each side of the + judges, beyond the short-wigged assessors, were chairs full of ladies and + gentlemen. They all had their eyes upon me. I saw it all very plainly. I + was going to see everything, to keep my eyes open, not to let any chance + escape. I wondered why a young girl with blue eyes and pink cheeks + tittered and shrugged her shoulders. I did not know what was amusing. What + astonished me was the smallness, the dirt, the want of dignity of the room + itself. I thought they must be trying a case of my importance there by + mistake. + </p> + <p> + Presently I noticed a great gilt anchor above the judges’ heads. I + wondered why it was there, until I remembered it was an Admiralty Court. I + thought suddenly, “Ah! if I had thought to tell my father to go and see if + the <i>Lion</i> had come in in the night!” + </p> + <p> + A man was bawling out a number of names.... “Peter Plimley, gent., any + challenge.... Lazarus Cohen, merchant, any challenge....” + </p> + <p> + The turnkey beside me leant with his back against the spikes. He was + talking to the man who had called us in. + </p> + <p> + “Lazarus Cohen, West Indian merchant.... Lord, well, I’d challenge....” + </p> + <p> + The other man said, “S—sh.” + </p> + <p> + “His old dad give me five shiners to put him up to a thing if I could,” + the turnkey said again. + </p> + <p> + I didn’t catch his meaning until an old man with a very ragged gown was + handing up a book to a row of others in a box so near that I could almost + have touched them. Then I realized that the turnkey had been winking to me + to challenge the jury. I called out at the highest of the judges: + </p> + <p> + “I protest against that jury. It is packed. Half of them, at least, are + West Indian merchants.” + </p> + <p> + There was a stir all over the court. I realized then that what had seemed + only a mass of stuffs of some sort were human beings all looking at me. + The judge I had called to opened a pair of dim eyes upon me, clasped and + unclasped his hands, very dry, ancient, wrinkled. The judge on his right + called angrily: + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, it is too late.... They are being sworn. You should have spoken + when the names were read.” Underneath his wig was an immensely broad face + with glaring yellow eyes. + </p> + <p> + I said, “It is scandalous. You want to murder me, How should I know what + you do in your courts? I say the jury is packed.” + </p> + <p> + The very old judge closed his eyes, opened them again, then gasped out: + </p> + <p> + “Silence. We are here to try you. This is a court of law.” + </p> + <p> + The turnkey pulled my sleeve under cover of the planking. “Treat him + civil,” he whispered, “Lord Justice Stowell of the Hadmir’lty. ’Tother’s + Baron Garrow of the Common Law; a beast; him as hanged that kid. You can + sass him; it doesn’t matter.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Stowell waved his hand to the clerk with the ragged gown; the book + passed from hand to hand along the faces of the jury, the clerk gabbling + all the while. The old judge said suddenly, in an astonishingly deep, + majestic voice: + </p> + <p> + “Prisoner at the bar, you must understand that we are here to give you an + impartial trial according to the laws of this land. If you desire advice + as to the procedure of this court you can have it.” + </p> + <p> + I said, “I still protest against that Jury. I am an innocent man, and———” + </p> + <p> + He answered querulously, “Yes, yes, afterwards.” And then creaked, “Now + the indictment....” + </p> + <p> + Someone hidden from me by three barristers began to read in a loud voice + not very easy to follow. I caught: + </p> + <p> + “For that the said John Kemp, alias Nichols, alias Nikola el Escoces, + alias el Demonio, alias el Diabletto, on the twelfth of May last, did + feloniously and upon the high seas piratically seize a certain ship called + the <i>Victoria</i>... um... um, the properties of Hyman Cohen and + others... and did steal and take therefrom six hundred and thirty barrels + of coffee of the value of... um... um... um... one hundred and one barrels + of coffee of the value of... ninety-four half kegs... and divers + others...” + </p> + <p> + I gave an immense sigh.... That was it, then. I had heard of the <i>Victoria</i>; + it was when I was at Horton that the news of her loss reached us. Old + Macdonald had sworn; it was the day a negro called Apollo had taken to the + bush. I ought to be able to prove that. Afterwards, one of the judges + asked me if I pleaded guilty or not guilty. I began a long wrangle about + being John Kemp but not Nikola el Escoces. I was going to fight every inch + of the way. They said: + </p> + <p> + “You will have your say afterwards. At present, guilty or not guilty?” + </p> + <p> + I refused to plead at all; I was not the man. The third judge woke up, and + said hurriedly: + </p> + <p> + “That is a plea of not guilty, enter it as such.” Then he went to sleep + again. The young girl on the bench beside him laughed joyously, and Mr. + Baron Garrow nodded round at her, then snapped viciously at me: + </p> + <p> + “You don’t make your case any better by this sort of foolery.” His eyes + glared at me like an awakened owl’s. + </p> + <p> + I said, “I’m fighting for my neck... and you’ll have to fight, too, to get + it.” + </p> + <p> + The old judge said angrily, “Silence, or you will have to be removed.” + </p> + <p> + I said, “I am fighting for my life.” + </p> + <p> + There was a sort of buzz all round the court. + </p> + <p> + Lord Stowell said, “Yes, yes;” and then, “Now, Mr. King’s Advocate, I + suppose Mr. Alfonso Jervis opens for you.” + </p> + <p> + A dusty wig swam up from just below my left hand, almost to a level with + the dock. + </p> + <p> + The old judge shut his eyes, with an air of a man who <i>is</i> going a + long journey in a post-chaise. Mr. Baron Garrow dipped his pen into an + invisible ink-pot, and scratched it on his desk. A long story began to + drone from under the wig, an interminable farrago of dull nonsense, in a + hypochondriacal voice; a long tale about piracy in general; piracy in the + times of the Greeks, piracy in the times of William the Conqueror... <i>pirata + nequissima Eustachio</i>, and thanking God that a case of the sort had not + been heard in that court for an immense lapse of years. Below me was an + array of wigs, on each side a compressed mass of humanity, squeezed so + tight that all the eyeballs seemed to be starting out of the heads towards + me. From the wig below, a translation of the florid phrases of the Spanish + papers was coming: + </p> + <p> + “His very Catholic Majesty, out of his great love for his ancient friend + and ally, his Britannic Majesty, did surrender the body of the notorious + El Demonio, called also...” + </p> + <p> + I began to wonder who had composed that precious document, whether it was + the <i>Juez de la Primera Instancia</i>, bending his yellow face and + sloe-black eyes above the paper, over there in Havana—or whether it + was O’Brien, who was dead since the writing. + </p> + <p> + All the while the barrister was droning on. I did not listen because I had + heard all that before—in the room of the Judge of the First Instance + at Havana. Suddenly appearing behind the backs of the row of gentlefolk on + the bench was the pale, thin face of my father. I wondered which of his + great friends had got him his seat. He was nodding to me and smiling + faintly. I nodded, too, and smiled back. I was going to show them that I + was not cowed. The voice of the barrister said: + </p> + <p> + “M’luds and gentlemen of the jury, that finishes the Spanish evidence, + which was taken on commission on the island of Cuba. We shall produce the + officer of H. M. S. Elephant, to whom he was surrendered by the Spanish + authorities at Havana, thus proving the prisoner to be the pirate Nikola, + and no other. We come, now, to the specific instance, m’luds and + gentlemen, an instance as vile...” + </p> + <p> + It was some little time before I had grasped how absolutely the Spanish + evidence damned me. It was as if, once I fell into the hands of the + English officer on Havana quays, the identity of Nikola could by no manner + of means be shaken from round my neck. The barrister came to the facts. + </p> + <p> + A Kingston ship had been boarded... and there was the old story over + again. I seemed to see the Rio Medio schooner rushing towards where I and + old Cowper and old Lumsden looked back from the poop to see her come + alongside; the strings of brown pirates pour in empty-handed, and out + laden. Only in the case of the <i>Victoria</i> there were added the + ferocities of “the prisoner at the bar, m’luds and gentlemen of the jury, + a fiend in human shape, as we shall prove with the aid of the most + respectable witnesses....” + </p> + <p> + The man in the wig sat down, and, before I understood what was happening, + a fat, rosy man—the Attorney-General—whose cheerful gills gave + him a grotesque resemblance to a sucking pig, was calling “Edward Sadler,” + and the name blared like sudden fire leaping up all over the court. The + Attorney-General wagged his gown into a kind of bunch behind his hips, and + a man, young, fair, with a reddish beard and a shiny suit of clothes, + sprang into a little box facing the jury. He bowed nervously in several + directions, and laughed gently; then he looked at me and scowled. The + Attorney-General cleared his throat pleasantly... + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Edward Sadler, you were, on May 25th, chief mate of the good ship <i>Victoria....</i>” + </p> + <p> + The fair man with the beard told his story, the old story of the ship with + its cargo of coffee and dye-wood; its good passage past the Gran Caymanos; + the becalming off the Cuban shore in latitude so and so, and the boarding + of a black schooner, calling itself a Mexican privateer. I could see all + that. + </p> + <p> + “The prisoner at the bar came alongside in a boat, with seventeen + Spaniards,” he said, in a clear, expressionless voice, looking me full in + the face. + </p> + <p> + I called out to the old judge, “My Lord... I protest. This is perjury. I + was not the man. It Was Nichols, a Nova Scotian.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baron Garrow roared, “Silence,” his face suffused with blood. + </p> + <p> + Old Lord Stowell quavered, “You must respect the procedure....” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to hear my life sworn away without a word?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + He drew himself frostily into his robes. “God forbid,” he said; “but at + the proper time you can cross-examine, if you think fit.” + </p> + <p> + The Attorney-General smiled at the jury-box and addressed himself to + Sadler, with an air of patience very much tried: + </p> + <p> + “You swear the prisoner is the man?” + </p> + <p> + The fair man turned his sharp eyes upon me. I called, “For God’s sake, + don’t perjure yourself. You are a decent man.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I won’t swear,” he said slowly. “I think he was. He had his face + blacked then, of course. When I had sight of him at the Thames Court I + thought he was; and seeing the Spanish evidence, I don’t see where’s the + room....” + </p> + <p> + “The Spanish evidence is part of the plot,” I said. + </p> + <p> + The Attorney-General snickered. “Go on, Mr. Sadler,” he said. “Let’s have + the rest of the plot unfolded.” + </p> + <p> + A juryman laughed suddenly, and resumed an abashed sudden silence. Sadler + went on to tell the old story.... I saw it all as he spoke; only gaunt, + shiny-faced, yellow Nichols was chewing and hitching his trousers in place + of my Tomas, with his sanguine oaths and jerked gestures. And there was + Nichol’s wanton, aimless ferocity. + </p> + <p> + “He had two pistols, which he fired twice each, while we were hoisting the + studding-sails by his order, to keep up with the schooner. He fired twice + into the crew. One of the men hit died afterwards....” + </p> + <p> + Later, another vessel, an American, had appeared in the offing, and the + pirates had gone in chase of her. He finished, and Lord Stowell moved one + of his ancient hands. It was as if a gray lizard had moved on his desk, a + little toward me. + </p> + <p> + “Now, prisoner,” he said. + </p> + <p> + I drew a deep breath. I thought for a minute that, after all, there was a + little fair play in the game—that I had a decent, fair, blue-eyed + man in front of me. He looked hard at me; I hard at him; it was as if we + were going to wrestle for a belt. The young girl on the bench had her lips + parted and leant forward, her head a little on one side. + </p> + <p> + I said, “You won’t swear I was the man... Nikola el Escoces?” + </p> + <p> + He looked meditatively into my eyes; it was a duel between us. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t swear,” he said. “You had your face blacked, and didn’t wear a + beard.” + </p> + <p> + A soft growth of hair had come out over my cheeks whilst I lay in prison. + I rubbed my hand against it, and thought that he had drawn first blood. + </p> + <p> + “You must not say ‘you,’” I said. “I swear I was not the man. Did he talk + like me?” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t say that he did,” Sadler answered, moving from one foot to the + other. + </p> + <p> + “Had he got eyes like me, or a nose, or a mouth?” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t say,” he answered again. “His face was blacked.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t he talk Blue Nose—in the Nova Scotian way?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he did,” Sadler assented slowly. “But any one could for a disguise. + It’s as easy as...” + </p> + <p> + Beside me, the turnkey whispered suddenly, “Pull him up; stop his mouth.” + </p> + <p> + I said, “Wasn’t he an older man? Didn’t he look between forty and fifty?” + </p> + <p> + “What do <i>you</i> look like?” the chief mate asked. + </p> + <p> + “I’m twenty-four,” I answered; “I can prove it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you look forty and older,” he answered negligently. “So did he.” + </p> + <p> + His cool, disinterested manner overwhelmed me like the blow of an immense + wave; it proved so absolutely that I had parted with all semblance of + youth. It was something added to the immense waste of waters between + myself and Seraphina; an immense waste of years. I did not ask much of the + next witness; Sadler had made me afraid. Septimus Hearn, the master of the + <i>Victoria</i>, was a man with eyes as blue and as cold as bits of round + blue pebble; a little goat’s beard, iron-gray; apple-coloured cheeks, and + small gold earrings in his ears. He had an extraordinarily mournful voice, + and a retrospective melancholy of manner. He was just such another master + of a trader as Captain Lumsden had been, and it was the same story over + again, with little different touches, the hard blue eyes gazing far over + the top of my head; the gnarled hands moving restlessly on the rim of his + hat. + </p> + <p> + “Afterwards the prisoner ordered the steward to give us a drink of brandy. + A glass was offered me, but I refused to drink it, and he said, ‘Who is it + that refuses to drink a glass of brandy?’ He asked me what countryman I + was, and if I was an American.” + </p> + <p> + There were two others from the unfortunate <i>Victoria</i>—a Thomas + Davis, boatswain, who had had one of Nikola’s pistol-balls in his hip; and + a sort of steward—I have forgotten his name—who had a scar of + a cutlass wound on his forehead. + </p> + <p> + It was horrible enough; but what distressed me more was that I could not + see what sort of impression I was making. Once the judge who was generally + asleep woke up and began to scratch furiously with his quill; once three + of the assessors—the men in short wigs—began an animated + conversation; one man with a thin, dark face laughed noiselessly, showing + teeth like a white waterfall. A man in the body of the court on my left + had an enormous swelling, blood-red, and looking as if a touch must burst + it, under his chin; at one time he winked his eyes furiously for a long + time on end. It seemed to me that something in the evidence must be + affecting all these people. The turnkey beside me said to his mate, “Twig + old Justice Best making notes in his stud-calendar,” and suddenly the + conviction forced itself upon me that the whole thing, the long weary + trial, the evidence, the parade of fairness, was being gone through in a + spirit of mockery, as a mere formality; that the judges and the assessors, + and the man with the goitre took no interest whatever in my case. It was a + foregone conclusion. + </p> + <p> + A tiny, fair man, with pale hair oiled and rather long for those days, and + with green and red signet rings on fingers that he was forever running + through that hair, came mincingly into the witness-box. He held for a long + time what seemed to be an amiable conversation with Sir Robert Gifford, a + tall, portentous-looking man, who had black beetling brows, like tufts of + black horsehair sticking in the crannies of a cliff. The conversation went + like this: + </p> + <p> + “You are the Hon. Thomas Oldham?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You know Kingston, Jamaica, very well?” + </p> + <p> + “I was there four years—two as the secretary to the cabinet of his + Grace the Duke of Manchester, two as civil secretary to the admiral on the + station.” + </p> + <p> + “You saw the prisoner?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, three times.” + </p> + <p> + I drew an immense breath; I thought for a moment that they had delivered + themselves into my hands. The thing must prove of itself that I had been + in Jamaica, not in Rio Medio, through those two years. My heart began to + thump like a great solemn drum, like Paul’s bell when the king died—solemn, + insistent, dominating everything. The little man was giving an account of + the “’bawminable” state of confusion into which the island’s trade was + thrown by the misdeeds of a pirate called Nikola el Demonio. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, my luds,” he squeaked, turning suddenly to the judges, “the + island was wrought up into a pitch of... ah... almost disloyalty. The... + ah... planters were clamouring for... ah... separation. And, to be sure, I + trust you’ll hang the prisoner, for if you don’t...” + </p> + <p> + Lord Stowell shivered, and said suddenly with haste, “Mr. Oldham, address + yourself to Sir Robert.” + </p> + <p> + I was almost happy; the cloven hoof had peeped so damningly out. The + little man bowed briskly to the old judge, asked for a chair, sat himself + down, and arranged his coat-tails. + </p> + <p> + “As I was saying,” he prattled on, “the trouble and the worry that this + man caused to His Grace, myself, and Admiral Rowley were inconceivable. + You have no idea, you... ah... can’t conceive. And no wonder, for, as it + turned out, the island was simply honeycombed by his spies and agents. You + have no idea; people who seemed most respectable, people we ourselves had + dealings with...” + </p> + <p> + He rattled on at immense length, the barrister taking huge pinches of + yellow snuff, and smiling genially with the air of a horse-trainer + watching a pony go faultlessly through difficult tricks. Every now and + then he flicked his whip. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Oldham, you saw the prisoner three times. If it does not overtax your + memory pray tell us.” And the little creature pranced off in a new + direction. + </p> + <p> + “Tax my memory! Gad, I like that. You remember a man who has had your + blood as near as could be, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + I had been looking at him eagerly, but my interest faded away now. It was + going to be the old confusing of my identity with Nikola’s. And yet I + seemed to know the little beggar’s falsetto; it was a voice one does not + forget. + </p> + <p> + “Remember!” he squeaked. “Gad, gentlemen of the jury, he came as near as + possible———You have no idea what a ferocious devil it + is.” + </p> + <p> + I was wondering why on earth Nichols should have wanted to kill such a + little thing. Because it was obvious that it must have been Nichols. + </p> + <p> + “As near as possible murdered myself and Admiral Rowley and a Mr. + Topnambo, a most enlightened and loyal... ah... inhabitant of the island, + on the steps of a public inn.” + </p> + <p> + I had it then. It was the little man David Mac-donald had rolled down the + steps with, that night at the Ferry Inn on the Spanish Town road. + </p> + <p> + “He was lying in wait for us with a gang of assassins. I was stabbed on + the upper lip. I lost so much blood... had to be invalided... cannot think + of horrible episode without shuddering.” + </p> + <p> + He had seen me then, and when Ramon (“a Spaniard who was afterwards proved + to be a spy of El Demonio’s—of the prisoner’s. He was hung since”) + had driven me from the place of execution after the hanging of the seven + pirates; and he had come into Ramon’s store at the moment when Carlos (“a + piratical devil if ever there was one,” the little man protested) had + drawn me into the back room, where Don Balthasar and O’Brien and Seraphina + sat waiting. The men who were employed to watch Ramon’s had never seen me + leave again, and afterwards a secret tunnel was discovered leading down to + the quay. + </p> + <p> + “This, apparently, was the way by which the prisoner used to arrive and + quit the island secretly,” he finished his evidence in chief, and the + beetle-browed, portly barrister sat down. I was not so stupid but what I + could see a little, even then, how the most innocent events of my past + were going to rise up and crush me; but I was certain I could twist him + into admitting the goodness of my tale which hadn’t yet been told. He knew + I had been in Jamaica, and, put what construction he liked on it, he would + have to admit it. I called out: + </p> + <p> + “Thank God, my turn’s come at last!” + </p> + <p> + The faces of the Attorney-General, the King’s Advocate, Sir Robert + Gifford, Mr. Lawes, Mr. Jervis, of all the seven counsel that were arrayed + to crush me, lengthened into simultaneous grins, varying at the jury-box. + But I didn’t care; I grinned, too. I was going to show them. + </p> + <p> + It was as if I flew at the throat of that little man. It seemed to me that + I must be able to crush a creature whose malice was as obvious and as + nugatory as the green and red rings that he exhibited in his hair every + few minutes. He wanted to show the jury that he had rings; that he was a + mincing swell; that I hadn’t and that I was a bloody pirate. I said: + </p> + <p> + “You know that during the whole two years Nichols was at Rio I was an + improver at Horton Pen with the Macdonalds, the agents of my + brother-in-law, Sir Ralph Rooksby. You must know these things. You were + one of the Duke of Manchester’s spies.” + </p> + <p> + We used to call the Duke’s privy council that. “I certainly know nothing + of the sort,” he said, folding his hands along the edge of the + witness-box, as if he had just thought of exhibiting his rings in that + manner. He was abominably cool. I said: + </p> + <p> + “You must have heard of me. The Topnambos knew me.” + </p> + <p> + “The Topnambos used to talk of a blackguard with a name like Kemp who kept + himself mighty out of the way in the Vale.” + </p> + <p> + “You knew I was on the island,” I pinned him down. + </p> + <p> + “You used to <i>come</i> to the island,” he corrected. “I’ve just + explained how. But you were not there much, or we should have been able to + lay hands on you. We wanted to. There was a warrant out after you tried to + murder us. But you had been smuggled away by Ramon.” + </p> + <p> + I tried again: + </p> + <p> + “You have heard of my brother-in-law, Sir Ralph Rooksby?” + </p> + <p> + I wanted to show that, if I hadn’t rings, I had relations. + </p> + <p> + “Nevah heard of the man in my life,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “He was the largest land proprietor on the island,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Dessay,” he said; “I knew forty of the largest. Mostly sharpers in the + boosing-kens.” He yawned. + </p> + <p> + I said viciously: + </p> + <p> + “It was your place to know the island. You knew Horton Pen—the + Macdonalds?” + </p> + <p> + The face of jolly old Mrs. Mac. came to my mind—the impeccable, + Scotch, sober respectability. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I knew the Macdonalds,” he said—“<i>of</i> them. The uncle was + a damn rebellious, canting, planting Scotchman. Horton Pen was the centre + of the Separation Movement. We could have hung <i>him</i> if we’d wanted + to. The nephew was the writer of an odious blackmailing print. He + calumniated all the decent, loyal inhabitants. He was an agent of you + pirates, too. We arrested him—got his papers; know all about your + relations with him.” + </p> + <p> + I said, “That’s all nonsense. Let us hear”—the Attorney-General had + always said that—“what you know of myself.” + </p> + <p> + “What I know of you,” he sniffed, “if it’s a pleasuah, was something like + this. You came to the island in a mysterious way, gave out that you were + an earl’s son, and tried to get into the very excellent society of... + ah... people like my friends, the Topnambos. But they would not have you, + and after that you kept yourself mighty close; no one ever saw you but + once or twice, and then it was riding about at night with that humpbacked + scoundrel of a blackmailer. + </p> + <p> + “You, in fact, weren’t on the island at all, except when you came to spy + for the pirates. You used to have long confabulations with that scoundrel + Ramon, who kept you posted about the shipping. As for the blackmailer, + with the humpback, David Macdonald, you kept him, you... ah... subsidized + his filthy print to foment mutiny and murder among the black fellows, and + preach separation. You wanted to tie our hands, and prevent our... ah... + prosecuting the preventive measures against you. When you found that it + was no good you tried to murder the admiral and myself, and that very + excellent man Topnambo, coming from a ball. After that you were seen + encouraging seven of your... ah... pirate fellows whom we were hanging, + and you drove off in haste with your agent, Ramon, before we could lay + hands on you, and vanished from the island.” + </p> + <p> + I didn’t lose my grip; I went at him again, blindly, as if I were boxing + with my eyes full of blood, but my teeth set tight. I said: + </p> + <p> + “You used to buy things yourself of old Ramon; bought them for the admiral + to load his frigates with; things he sold at Key West.” + </p> + <p> + “That was one of the lies your scoundrel David Macdonald circulated + against us.” + </p> + <p> + “You bought things... even whilst you were having his store watched.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my soul!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You used to buy things....” I pinned him. He looked suddenly at the + King’s Advocate, then dropped his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Nevah bought a thing in my life,” he said. + </p> + <p> + I knew the man had; Ramon had told me of his buying for the admiral more + than three hundred barrels of damaged coffee for thirty pounds. I was in a + mad temper. I smashed my hand upon the spikes of the rail in front of me, + and although I saw hands move impulsively towards me all over the court, I + did not know that my arm was impaled and the blood running down. + </p> + <p> + “Perjurer,” I shouted, “Ramon himself told me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you were mighty thick with Ramon...” he said. + </p> + <p> + I let him stand down. I was done. Someone below said harshly, “That closes + our case, m’luds,” and the court rustled all over. Old Lord Stowell in + front of me shivered a little, looked at the window, and then said: + </p> + <p> + “Prisoner at the bar, our procedure has it that if you wish to say + anything, you may now address the jury. Afterwards, if you had a counsel, + he could call and examine your witnesses, if you have any.” + </p> + <p> + It was growing very dark in the court. I began to tell my story; it was so + plain, so evident, it shimmered there before me... and yet I knew it was + so useless. + </p> + <p> + I remembered that in my cell I had reasoned out that I must be very + constrained; very lucid about the opening. “On such and such a day I + landed at Kingston, to become an improver on the estate of my + brother-in-law. He is Sir Ralph Rooksby of Horton Priory in Kent.” I <i>did</i> + keep cool; I <i>was</i> lucid; I spoke like that. I had my eyes fixed on + the face of the young girl upon the bench. I remember it so well. Her eyes + were fixed, fascinated, upon my hand. I tried to move it, and found that + it was stuck upon the spike on which I had jammed it. I moved it + carelessly away, and only felt a little pain, as if from a pin-prick; but + the blood was dripping on to the floor, pat, pat. Later on, a man lit the + candles on the judge’s desk, and the court looked different. There were + deep shadows everywhere; and the illuminated face of Lord Stowell looked + grimmer, less kind, more ancient, more impossible to bring a ray of + sympathy to. Down below, the barristers of the prosecution leaned back + with their arms all folded, and the air of men resting in an interval of + cutting down a large tree. The barristers who were, merely listeners + looked at me from time to time. I heard one say, “That man ought to have + his hand bound up.” I was telling the story of my life, that was all I + could do. + </p> + <p> + “As for Ramon, how could I know he was in the pay of the pirates, even if + he were? I swear I did not know. Everyone on the island had dealings with + him, the admiral himself. That is not calumny. On my honour, the admiral + did have dealings. Some of you have had dealings with forgers, but that + does not make you forgers.” + </p> + <p> + I warmed to it; I found words. I was telling the story for that young + girl. Suddenly I saw the white face of my father peep at me between the + head of an old man with an enormous nose, and a stout lady in a brown + cloak that had a number of little watchmen’s capes. He smiled suddenly, + and nodded again and again, opened his eyes, shut them; furtively waved a + hand. It distracted me, threw me off my balance, my coolness was gone. It + was as if something had snapped. After that I remembered very little; I + think I may have quoted “The Prisoner of Chillon,” because he put it into + my head. + </p> + <p> + I seemed to be back again in Cuba. Down below me the barristers were + talking. The King’s Advocate pulled out a puce-coloured bandanna, and + waved it abroad preparatorily to blowing his nose. A cloud of the perfume + of a West Indian bean went up from it, sweet and warm. I had smelt it last + at Rio, the sensation was so strong that I could not tell where I was. + </p> + <p> + The candles made a yellow glow on the judge’s desk; but it seemed to be + the blaze of light in the cell where Nichols and the Cuban had fenced. I + thought I was back in Cuba again. The people in the court disappeared in + the deepening shadows. At times I could not speak. Then I would begin + again. + </p> + <p> + If there were to be any possibility of saving my life, I had to tell what + I had been through—and to tell it vividly—I had to narrate the + story of my life; and my whole life came into my mind. It was Seraphina + who was the essence of my life; who spoke with the voice of all Cuba, of + all Spain, of all Romance. I began to talk about old Don Balthasar Riego. + I began to talk about Manuel-del-Popolo, of his red shirt, his black eyes, + his mandolin; I saw again the light of his fires flicker on the other side + of the ravine in front of the cave. + </p> + <p> + And I rammed all that into my story, the story I was telling to that young + girl. I knew very well that I was carrying my audience with me; I knew how + to do it, I had it in the blood. The old pale, faded, narrow-lidded father + who was blinking and nodding at me had been one of the best raconteurs + that ever was. I knew how. In the black shadows of the wall of the court I + could feel the eyes upon me; I could see the parted lips of the young girl + as she leaned further towards me. I knew it because, when one of the + barristers below raised his voice, someone hissed “S—sh” from the + shadows. And suddenly it came into my head, that even if I did save my + life by talking about these things, it would be absolutely useless. I + could never go back again; never be the boy again; never hear the true + voice of the Ever Faithful Island. What did it matter even if I escaped; + even if I could go back? The sea would be there, the sky, the silent dim + hills, the listless surge; but <i>I</i> should never be there, I should be + altered for good and all. I should never see the breathless dawn in the + pondwater of Havana harbour, never be there with Seraphina close beside me + in the little <i>drogher</i>. All that remained was to see this fight + through, and then have done with fighting. I remember the intense + bitterness of that feeling and the oddity of it all; of the one “I” that + felt like that, of the other that was raving in front of a lot of + open-eyed idiots, three old judges, and a young girl. And, in a queer way, + the thoughts of the one “I” floated through into the words of the other, + that seemed to be waving its hands in its final struggle, a little way in + front of me. + </p> + <p> + “Look at me... look at what they have made of me, one and the other of + them. I was an innocent boy. What am I now? They have taken my life from + me, let them finish it how they will, what does it matter to me, what do I + care?” + </p> + <p> + There was a rustle of motion all round the court. On board Rowley’s + flagship the heavy irons had sawed open my wrists. I hadn’t been ironed in + Newgate, but the things had healed up very little. I happened to look down + at my claws of hands with the grime of blood that the dock spikes had + caused. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a premium is it that you set on sticking to the right? Is + this how you are going to encourage the others like me? What do I care + about your death? What’s life to me? Let them get their scaffold ready. I + have suffered enough to be put out of my misery. God, I have suffered + enough with one and another. Look at my hands, I say. Look at my wrists, + and say if I care any more.” I held my ghastly paws high, and the candle + light shone upon them. + </p> + <p> + Out of the black shadows came shrieks of women and curses. I saw my young + girl put her hands over her face and slip slowly, very slowly, from her + chair, down out of sight. People were staggering in different directions. + I had had more to say, but I forgot in my concern for the young girl. The + turnkey pulled my sleeve and said: + </p> + <p> + “I say, that ain’t <i>true</i>, is it, it ain’t <i>true?</i>” Because he + seemed not to want it to have been true, I glowed for a moment with the + immense pride of my achievement. I had made them see things. + </p> + <p> + A minute after, I understood how futile it was. I was not a fool even in + my then half-mad condition. The real feeling of the place came back upon + me, the “Court of Law” of it. The King’s Advocate was whispering to the + Attorney-General, he motioned with his hand, first in my direction, then + towards the jury; then they both laughed and nodded. They knew the ropes + too well for me, and there were seven West India merchants up there who + would remember their pockets in a minute. But I didn’t care. I had made + them see things. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h3> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h3> + <p> + I had shot my bolt and I was going to die; I could see it in the way the + King’s Advocate tossed his head back, fluttered his bands, looked at the + jury-box, and began to play with the seals on his fob. The court had + resumed its stillness. A man in some sort of livery passed a square paper + to the Lord Mayor, the Lord Mayor passed it to Lord Stowell, who opened it + with a jerking motion of an ancient fashion that impressed me immensely. + It was as if I, there at the end of my life, were looking at a man opening + a letter of the reign of Queen Anne. The shadows of his ancient, wrinkled + face changed as he read, raising his eyebrows and puckering his mouth. He + handed the unfolded paper to Mr. Baron Garrow, then with one wrinkled + finger beckoned the Attorney-General to him. The third judge was still + asleep. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil’s this?” the turnkey beside me said to his companion. + </p> + <p> + I was in a good deal of pain, and felt sickly that every pulse of my heart + throbbed in my mangled hand. The other spat straight in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “Damme if I know,” he said. “This cursed business ought to have been over + and done with an hour agone. I told Jinks to have my rarebit and noggin + down by the gate-house fire at half-past five, and it’s six now.” + </p> + <p> + They began an interminable argument under their breaths. + </p> + <p> + “It’s that wager of Lord March’s... run a mile, walk a mile, eat five + pounds of mutton, drink five pints of claret. No, it ain’t.. Medmenham + coach ain’t in yet... roads too heavy.... It is. What else would stop the + Court at this time of night? It isn’t, or Justice Best ’d be awake and + hedging his bets.” + </p> + <p> + In a dizzy way I noted the Attorney-General making his way carefully back + between the benches to his knot of barristers, and their wigs went all + together in a bunch like ears of corn drawn suddenly into a sheaf. The + heads of the other barristers were like unreaped ears. A man with a face + like a weasel’s called to a man with a face like a devil’s—he was + leaving the court—something about an ambassador. The other stopped, + turned, and deposited his bag again. I heard the deep voice of Sir Robert + Gifford say: “What!... Never!... too infamous...” and then the interest + and the light seemed to flicker out together. I could hardly see. Voices + called out to each other, harsh, dry, as if their owners had breathed + nothing but dust for years and years. + </p> + <p> + One loud one barked, “You can’t hear him, m’luds; in <i>Rex v. + Marsupenstein....</i>” + </p> + <p> + A lot began calling all together, “Ah, but that was different, Mr. + Attorney. You couldn’t subpoena him, he being in the position of <i>extra + lege commune</i>. But if he offers a statement....” + </p> + <p> + The candles seemed to be waving deliberately like elm-tops in a high wind. + </p> + <p> + Someone called, “Clerk, fetch me volume xiii.... I think we shall find + there.... You recollect the case of <i>Hildeshein v. Roe....</i> Wasn’t it + <i>Hildegaulen and another</i>, m’lud?”... “I tried the case myself. The + Prussian Plenipotentiary....” + </p> + <p> + I wanted to call out to them that it was not worth while to try their dry + throats any more; that having shot my bolt, I gave in. But I could not + think of any words, I was so tired. “I didn’t sleep at all last night,” I + found myself saying to myself. + </p> + <p> + The sleeping judge woke up suddenly and snarled, “Why in Heaven’s name + don’t we get on? We shall be all night. Let him call the second name on + the list. We can take the Spanish ambassador when you have settled. For my + part I think we ought to hear him....” + </p> + <p> + Lord Stowell said suddenly, “Prisoner at the bar, some gentlemen have + volunteered statements on your behalf. If you wish it, they can be + called.” + </p> + <p> + I didn’t answer; I did not understand; I wanted to tell him I did not + care, because the <i>Lion</i> was posted as overdue and Seraphina was + drowned. The Court seemed to be moving slowly up and down in front of me + like the deck of a ship. I thought I was bound again, and on the sofa in + the gorgeous cabin of the <i>Madre-de-Dios</i>. Someone seemed to be + calling, “Prisoner at the bar... Prisoner at the bar....” It was as if the + candles had been lit in front of the Madonna with the pink child, only she + had a gilt anchor instead of the spiky gilt glory above her head. Somebody + was saying, “Hello there.... Hold up!... Here, bring a chair,...” and + there were arms around me. Afterwards I sat down. A very old judge’s voice + said something rather kindly, I thought. I knew it was the very old judge, + because he was called the star of Cuban law. Someone would be bending over + me soon, with a lanthorn, and I should be wiping the flour out of my eyes + and blinking at the red velvet and gilding of the cabin ceiling. In a + minute Carlos and Castro would come... or was it O’Brien who would come? + No, O’Brien was dead; stabbed, with a knife in his neck; the blood was + still sticky between my first and second fingers. I could feel it. I ought + to have been allowed to wash my hands before I was tried; or was it before + I spoke to the admiral? One would not speak to a man with hands like that. + </p> + <p> + A loud, high-pitched voice called from up in the air, “I will give any of + you gentlemen of the robe down there fifty pounds to conduct the remainder + of the case for him. I am the prisoner’s father.” + </p> + <p> + My father’s voice broke the spell. I was in the court; the candles were + still burning; all the faces, lit up or in the shadow, were bunched + together in little groups; hands waved. The barrister whose face was like + the devil’s under his wig held in his hands the paper that had been handed + to Lord Stowell; my father was talking to him from the bench. The + barrister, tall, his robes old and ragged, silhouetted against the light, + glanced down the paper, fluttered it in his hand, nodded to my father, and + began a grotesque, nasal drawl: + </p> + <p> + “M’luds, I will conduct the case for the prisoner, if your lordships will + bear with me a little. He obviously can’t call his own witnesses. If he + has been treated as he says, it has been one of the most abominable...” + </p> + <p> + Old Lord Stowell said, “Ch’t, ch’t, Mr. Walker; you know you must not make + a speech for the prisoner. Call your witness. It is all that is needed.” + </p> + <p> + I wondered what he meant by that. The barrister was calling a man of the + name of Williams. I seemed to know the name. I seemed to know the man, + too. + </p> + <p> + “Owen Williams, Master of the ship <i>Lion</i>.... Coffee and dye-wood.... + Just come in under a jury-rig. Had been dismasted and afterwards becalmed. + Heard of this trial from the pilot in Graves-end. Had taken + post-chaises...” + </p> + <p> + I only heard snatches of his answers. + </p> + <p> + “On the twenty-fifth of August last I was close in with the Cuban + coast.... The mate, Sebright, got boiling water for them.... Afterwards a + heavy fog. They boarded us in many boats....” He was giving all the old + evidence over again, fastening another stone around my neck. But suddenly + he said: “This gentleman came alongside in a leaky dinghy. A dead shot. He + saved all our lives.” + </p> + <p> + His bullet-head, the stare of his round blue eyes seemed to draw me out of + a delirium. I called out: + </p> + <p> + “Williams, for God’s sake, Williams, where is Seraphina? Did she come with + you?” There was an immense roaring in my head, and the ushers were + shouting, “Silence! Silence!” I called out again. + </p> + <p> + Williams was smiling idiotically; then he shook his head and put his + finger to his mouth to warn me to keep silence. I only noted the shake of + the head. Sera-phina had not come. The Havana people must have taken her. + It was all over with me. The roaring noise made me think that I was on a + beach by the sea, with the smugglers, perhaps, at night down in Kent. The + silence that fell upon the court was like the silence of a grave. Then + someone began to speak in measured, portentous Spanish, that seemed a + memory of the past. + </p> + <p> + “I, the ambassador of his Catholic Majesty, being here upon my honour and + on my oath, demand the re-surrender of this gentleman, whose courage + equals his innocence. Documents which have just reached my hands establish + clearly the mistake of which he is the victim. The functionary who is + called <i>Alcayde</i> of the <i>carcel</i> at Havana confused the men. + Nikola el Escoces escaped, having murdered the judge whose place it was to + identify. I demand that the prisoner be set at liberty...” + </p> + <p> + A long time after a harsh voice said: + </p> + <p> + “Your Excellency, we retire, of course, from the prosecution.” + </p> + <p> + A different one directed: + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen of the jury, you will return a verdict of ‘Not Guilty’...” + </p> + <p> + Down below they were cheering uproariously because my life was saved. But + it was I that had to face my saved life. I sat there, my head bowed into + my hands. The old judge was speaking to me in a tone of lofty compassion: + </p> + <p> + “You have suffered much, as it seems, but suffering is the lot of us men. + Rejoice now that your character is cleared; that here in this public place + you have received the verdict of your countrymen that restores you to the + liberties of our country and the affection of your kindred. I rejoice with + you who am a very old man, at the end of my life....” + </p> + <p> + It was rather tremendous, his deep voice, his weighted words. Suffering is + the lot of us men!... The formidable legal array, the great powers of a + nation, had stood up to teach me that, and they had taught me that—suffering + is the lot of us men! + </p> + <p> + It takes long enough to realize that someone is dead at a distance. I had + done that. But how long, how long it needs to know that the life of your + heart has come back from the dead. For years afterwards I could not bear + to have her out of my sight. + </p> + <p> + Of our first meeting in London all I remember is a speechlessness that was + like the awed hesitation of our overtried souls before the greatness of a + change from the verge of despair to the opening of a supreme joy. + </p> + <p> + The whole world, the whole of life, with her return, had changed all + around me; it enveloped me, it enfolded me so lightly as not to be felt, + so suddenly as not to be believed in, so completely that that whole + meeting was an embrace, so softly that at last it lapsed into a sense of + rest that was like the fall of a beneficent and welcome death. + </p> + <p> + For suffering is the lot of man, but not inevitable failure or worthless + despair which is without end—suffering, the mark of manhood, which + bears within its pain a hope of felicity like a jewel set in iron.... + </p> + <p> + Her first words were: + </p> + <p> + “You broke our compact. You went away from me whilst I was sleeping.” Only + the deepness of her reproach revealed the depth of her love, and the + suffering she too had endured to reach a union that was to be without end—and + to forgive. + </p> + <p> + And, looking back, we see Romance—that subtle thing that is mirage—that + is life. It is the goodness of the years we have lived through, of the old + time when we did this or that, when we dwelt here or there. Looking back, + it seems a wonderful enough thing that I who am this, and she who is that, + commencing so far away a life that, after such sufferings borne together + and apart, ended so tranquilly there in a world so stable—that she + and I should have passed through so much, good chance and evil chance, sad + hours and joyful, all lived down and swept away into the little heap of + dust that is life. That, too, is Romance! + </p> + <p> + THE END <br> <br> + </p> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROMANCE ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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