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diff --git a/28008-8.txt b/28008-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f0f4f57 --- /dev/null +++ b/28008-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3482 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Under the Southern Cross, by Elizabeth +Robins, Illustrated by John Rae + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Under the Southern Cross + + +Author: Elizabeth Robins + + + +Release Date: February 5, 2009 [eBook #28008] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER THE SOUTHERN CROSS*** + + +E-text prepared by Sankar Viswanathan, Suzanne Shell, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations in colour. + See 28008-h.htm or 28008-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/0/0/28008/28008-h/28008-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/0/0/28008/28008-h.zip) + + + + + +UNDER THE SOUTHERN CROSS + +by + +Elizabeth Robins + +Author of "The Magnetic North," +"The Open Question" etc. + +Illustrated & Decorated by John Rae + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "FRUITS AND FLOWERS WERE SHOWERED UPON US"--_Page 3_] + + + +New York +Frederick A. Stokes Company +Publishers + +Copyright, 1907, by +Frederick A. Stokes Company +October, 1907 + + + + +_Contents_ + + + PAGE + I. OUR AGREEABLE FELLOW PASSENGER 1 + + II. MY INTERPRETER AT MAZATLAN 39 + +III. I AM LECTURED 65 + + IV. I DRINK COCOANUT MILK AND GO FISHING FOR PEARLS 101 + + V. THE BARON IS CRAZY WITH MADNESS 133 + + VI. THE BARANCA 165 + +VII. THE INCA EYE 199 + + + + +_Illustrations_ + + +"FRUITS AND FLOWERS WERE SHOWERED UPON US" _Frontispiece_ + +"LOOK, SEÑORITA!" _Facing page_ 48 + +"THE BARON HAS FOUND A PEARL!" " " 112 + +"YOU MUST TAKE ME BACK!" " " 210 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +[Illustration: Chapter One] + +OUR AGREEABLE FELLOW PASSENGER + + +In the same spirit in which a solicitous mamma or benevolent +middle-aged friend will sometimes draw forth from the misty past some +youthful misdeed, and set the faded picture up before a girl's eyes, +framed in fiery retribution--for an object lesson and a terrible +example--so will I, benevolent, if not middle-aged, put before the +eyes of my sisters a certain experience of mine. I expect my little +act of self-abasement for the instruction of my sex to have this +merit: the picture I will show you is not dim with age, and not cut +and cramped to fit the frame of a special case. The colours are hardly +dry, and both picture and tale are quite unvarnished. + +I am a plain American girl of twenty. I am not so plain, as I come to +think of it, as one or two others I know--not being distinguished even +by unusual or commanding ugliness. I spent last winter in San +Francisco with relatives, and intended returning home as I +came--overland. But the invalid friend who was asked to chaperon me +back to New York, was advised by her physicians to take the trip by +sea _via_ Panama, for health's sake, and I was easily induced to +change my arrangements and bear her company. + +It was on a sunny April morning that our friends met us at the wharf +of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company to bid us God-speed on our +month's voyage from the Golden Gate to the harbour of New York. + +Fruits and flowers, boxes of salted almonds and Maskey's best bonbons, +as well as books, from Prescott's "Conquest of Mexico" to the latest +novels, were showered upon us, with the understanding that it was to +be a long and tedious voyage, and we should need all the comfort +obtainable to support existence, with the knowledge that if we +survived, we might be the better for the journey. The signal for +visitors to leave the ship had been given, and Major Sanford, turning +to go, stood face to face with a tall, foreign-looking young man, who +smiled with quick recognition, showing small white teeth like a +woman's. + +"You raimembair me, Major?" + +Major Sanford did "raimembair," and, turning to me, presented "Baron +de Bach." + +"--he knows all our good friends, was here four years ago on his way +round the world in his steam yacht--glad to think you'll have such +good company. Good-bye!" And Major Sanford was the last to run down +the gangway. How little he knew what entertainment he was providing in +coupling my farewell to him with "hail" to Baron de Bach! + +Slowly we moved away from the dense crowd that covered the wharf. In +the cloud of fluttering handkerchiefs, our friends' faces grew dim and +slowly faded; the fair city at our Western portal looked like +dreamland in a haze. + +"You air not sorry dthat you go?" says a voice over my shoulder. + +"No," I say, without turning; "I'm always glad of a change. You must +have had a good time in that yacht of yours, going where you liked, +and getting up steam the moment you had seen enough." + +"Yes," says the new acquaintance meditatively, coming forward to the +side of the vessel where I can see his face, "_Mais je suis très +fatigué._ I am glad dthat I now go home." + +"You are young to be tired." I look sideways at the boyish face. He is +German, I think to myself, making a mental note of his complexion, +strangely fair for a yachtsman the eyes--heavily fringed blue +eyes--the full-lipped, sensuous mouth, shapely of its kind, shadowed +by a curling blond moustache. + +"You are going home round Robin Hood's barn, aren't you?" + +"Robeen Hoohd? Pardon, vill you tell me who is he _en français_?" + +"No, I'm not proud of my French, and if mistakes must be made I would +rather you made them. I meant isn't this a curious way to go to +Germany, if you are tired of travel and in haste to get home?" + +"I lif not in Jhermany, how could you dthink----" + +"Oh, I fancied the name was German, and----" + +"Yes--yes, dthe name, but----" + +"And you look a little German." + +"Ah, mademoiselle, look at me more, I am in nodthing like Jhermans." + +I could see the tall young stranger was a bit distressed that his +Teutonic cast betrayed him. + +"My fadthur was Jherman--my modthur is Castilian, my home is Lima, I +am Peruvian, but I am educate in France. I am _cosmopolite_. And +you--air Frainch?" + +"I wonder where Mrs. Steele is?" I say, and turn away to find my +friend standing at the stern, with the tears streaming down her +handsome, care-worn face, and her great hollow eyes fixed on the +fading outlines of the San Franciscan harbour. The Baron has followed, +but I turn my back and devote myself to diverting Mrs. Steele. + +"We must arrange our stateroom before we are ill," she says presently, +in a state of hopeful anticipation, and we retire to No. 49 in the +Steamship _San Miguel_, which all who have taken this journey know to +be the best double room on the "crack" steamer of the line. We put up +hangers, divide pockets and racks, and prepare for a three weeks' +occupancy. Having finished our work, we go to the stern to get a whiff +of the stiff breeze blowing from the southeast. The air is sweet and +sun-laden, the rhythmic rise and fall of the little steamer seems a +bit of caressing pastime between ship and sea--"the whole world is +shining and exultant," think I, "and the contagion reaches me." + +"Mademoiselle ees fery happy for somedthing," says the Baron's deep, +low voice. + +"Yes, I'm always happy, but especially just now. Mrs. Steele--Baron +de Bach, a friend of Major Sanford." + +For half an hour the young Peruvian devotes himself making a good +impression on Mrs. Steele. He carries her chair about until a place is +discovered sufficiently sheltered from the sun and yet not too cold; +he puts all our wraps and rugs on and about "Madame," who watches him +with quiet amusement until I ask: + +"And now, pray, what am I to do for a rug?" + +"You need not a rug; you vill valk dthe deck, vill you not?" + +To tell the truth, walking the deck is much more in my line than being +swathed and pinioned in a chair, but---- + +"Yes, my dear, it will do you good--bring me a book, and then you may +explore if you like." + +So Madame is left with her French romance, and up and down in the +sunshine I walk with our new acquaintance at my side. + +"You air not Frainch?" he asks with a scrutinising side glance out of +his fine eyes. + +"I am happy to say that I am an American, and so are my ancestors for +three hundred years." + +"Naixt to dthe Frainch, dthe American ladies air most beautiful, +charmante and clevair, but you haf chic, and more dthings; you might +be angry I vould say. Vhen I stood at dthe ship and see you coming +_abord du San Miguel_ I vas so happy, for I haf fear for a dull +voyage." + +"H'm! You fancy then I may entertain you?" + +"_Mademoiselle!_" + +Very reproachful is the droop of the long lashes. + +"It ess my gude hope ve may be friends, and if I succeed to amuse +_you_, I am content _à présent_." + +"And what office do you aspire to in the future? Shall you instruct, +perhaps?" + +"Dthat ees more your rôle, for if you pairmeet me to listen to your so +beautiful Eenglish, I must learn much. But you will let me spik to you +a leedle in Frainch, mademoiselle? Dthere air zome dthings I cannot +say in Eenglish." + +We stop at the vessel's side, and in a glance across to Mrs. Steele I +see her looking with wide-eyed amusement and a dash of concern at my +companion. I turn in time to catch a queer, earnest look in the boyish +face, as he stands with one hand grasping the rope ladder and his head +bent down to mine. + +"Anything clever or graceful that occurs to you in French, you may say +to Madame Steele if you like, but you must speak English to me. +There's the gong for dinner." + +At the table I am placed at the Captain's right. My friends had given +him special charges about me, and in a rough, kind-hearted way he +shows me every attention. On my right sits a Guatemalan, Señor José +Noma, then Mrs. Steele, and beside her, Baron de Bach. Opposite is an +army officer, Captain Ball, and his wife, and several Mexicans. I feel +a little unsteady and disinclined to eat, but the Baron sends me, by +the Chinese waiter, a glass of champagne frappé--and my courage and +interest in life return. + +The Guatemalan proves to be a rich coffee planter exiled from home for +political reasons, and returning now after an absence of several years +to make his peace with the government. Señor José Noma is a clever, +entertaining person, and one thing about him I am not likely to +forget. He ate more chili-peppers, more mustard, more pickled +chow-chow, more curry, and more cayenne pepper than I would have +believed any mortal could dispose of and live. + +I used to wonder whether his diet had any share in making him such a +flaming firebrand of rebellion that he must needs be sent North to +cool off! I am convinced, at least, that had he not drunk a generous +amount of wine he must inevitably have been scorched to a cinder. He +was always passing me his favourite dainties and urging upon me +garlic, and some particularly awful and populous cheese. I was +especially impressed in this, my first intercourse with a +Spanish-speaking race, by their invincible habit of paying +compliments, and yet their inability to convince even an +unsophisticated person like myself that they meant one word they were +saying. + +The afternoon I devote to Mrs. Steele in our airy, pleasant stateroom. +She is not exactly ill, but wants to lie down and to be read to. So we +begin the "Conquest of Mexico." Towards evening I emerge from +retirement, and Baron de Bach drops from somewhere at my side. + +"Gude-efening, Mademoiselle. You haf us long deserted." + +I explain that my friend is not well. + +"But she vill make you ill vhen you stay inside. I vill tell her." + +"In French it may be safe, but don't attempt it in English." + +He looks mystified. + +"Pardon, Mademoiselle, you look efer as if you laugh at me, but I am +not sure." + +"No, it's only my natural buoyancy that gives me a smiling aspect," +and I turn the conversation to Mexico. "We shall go ashore at Mazatlan +and dine at a native hotel and see the people." + +"May I accompany you?" says the Baron. + +"Mrs. Steele makes all the arrangements; you must see her about +that." + +"Ah, but you spik not Spanish, and you must haf intairpretair. Madame +Steele!" he says, as my friend appears, looking refreshed from her +long rest, "desire you not an intairpretair at Mazatlan, or spik you +Spanish?" + +Mrs. Steele does not "spik Spanish," and accepts his offices. In some +way the Peruvian has secured the confidence and goodwill of my friend +in a very brief acquaintance. He is decidedly agreeable, but his +slight knowledge of English puts him at constant and amusing +disadvantage. + +The next evening as we stand at the vessel's side, watching the +marvellous display of phosphorescence that plays about the prow of the +_San Miguel_, Mrs. Steele is joined by Señor Noma, and the Baron +urges me to come a little further away from the light--"ve can see +dthe yelly fishes viel besser." I move away unsuspectingly out of the +shine of the ship's lanterns, and the Baron, folding his arms on the +railing beside me, begins quite low to recite a Spanish sonnet, +liquid, musical, impassioned. I look out over the waters well-named +Pacific, and yield my luxurious sense a moment to the charm of the +dusky beauty stretching away endless in the night, listening half in a +dream to the lapping of the weirdly lit water against the side of the +_San Miguel_, and to the sweet, low music of the Spanish tongue. The +spell is broken when the Peruvian begins in a rapid, excited French a +sentimental declaration. + +"I'm afraid I don't quite follow you," I interrupt. "Are you telling +me about jelly fish or the Peruvians?" + +"_Sacre!..._" + +A low, repressed volley of Castilian followed by a few words in +German. + +"_Seit jenem Tage wo ich zum ersten Male in deinen schönen Augen +geblickt habe, habe ich dich grenzenlos geliebt._" + +"I'm sorry I can understand nothing but English," I say, turning to +see if I can catch a glimpse of Mrs. Steele. + +"Señorita!" + +The Peruvian holds my finger tips fast to the rail with a hand that +trembles a little. + +"Señorita, I must gif you anodther proof dthat I am not Jherman, and +am unlike your--how you say--practi_cal_ countrymen. I haf know you +two days, yust so long haf I loaf you, and being Peruvian, I must die +if I tell you not." + +"Blanche, where are you?" It is Mrs. Steele's voice, and I call out: + +"Do come here, the jelly fish are simply resplendent on this side." + +The Peruvian moves out of range of recognition, into the darkness +beyond, while Mrs. Steele joins me on the other side. + +"Where is Baron de Bach? I thought he was with you." + +"So he was, but he's just gone daft--I mean aft." + +"What is the matter?" says my friend; "have you disagreed about +something?" + +"Yes," I say, "we've disagreed, and he has the best of it, for he can +argue his point with four tongues and I've only one." + +Mrs. Steele is curious; she slips her arm through mine. + +"Has he been overpolite to you, my dear?" + +"Mrs. Steele," I say, thoughtfully, "I'm a little amused and still +more perplexed by this man. Will you allow me the American girl's +privilege of taking care of herself and promise not to interfere if I +tell you how matters go?" + +"Yes," says Mrs. Steele quickly, "I need no convincing that you can +take care of yourself, but I rather like that big Peruvian with all +his worldly experience and boyish heart. I hope he hasn't been +translating into broken English the eloquence of his face. If you're +wise, you'll keep him on friendly ground till near the end of the +voyage at least; he will make an agreeable third in our excursions on +shore. His knowledge of Spanish and Mexican customs will be useful, +but if you allow him to make a goose of himself, there's an end to all +friendly intercourse." + +She pauses a moment and then adds hopefully: + +"But still we've known him only two days; I merely warn you in time +for future need." + +"It's too late," I say, leaning far over the railing to watch the +phosphorescence gleam and darken. "He has just been making furious +love in four languages. Let's go in, dear." + +That night I wake out of some unpleasant dream to hear Mrs. Steele +saying: + +"You sleep like the dead; we shall all go to the bottom and you will +never find it out till the fish begin to nibble." + +I realise sleepily there's a great commotion without; hurried feet +fly about the decks; loud orders are shouted under our window, and +with a mighty trembling and throbbing, the ship's engine seems to stop +suddenly. Mrs. Steele is scrambling into her _robe de chambre_, and +has her head out of the porthole, while I, hardly awake even yet, lean +in a bewildered way over the side of my berth to listen. + +"What has happened?" Mrs. Steele calls out. + +"Man overboard," answers one of the sailors; "we're lowering a boat." + +"Dthere ees no fear, Madame," says the Peruvian's voice outside. + +I am so sleepy I gladly take his word for it, and am off again to the +Land of Nod. Mrs. Steele's voice comes to me from afar off, with some +question about a pistol, but the real soon mixes with a dream, and I +know no more. + +The next morning I hear that for two hours the whole ship was in a +commotion. A drunken passenger of the intermediate class had tumbled +overboard, been sobered by his bath, and swam valiantly till the +ship's engine could be reversed and a boat lowered to his rescue. This +occupied so much time that he was sinking from exhaustion when finally +the sailors pulled him in. The passengers were in a panic during the +outcry and subsequent stoppage of the machinery. Many believed the +last hour was at hand, and appeared on deck in ascension robes, and +faces by no means expressive of joy at the immediate prospect of +Heaven. It was great fun hearing the various experiences at breakfast. +Every one had some joke on his neighbour--only the Peruvian was quiet +and rather pale. As we sat on deck in the later morning sunshine, he +said to me in German: + +"You face danger bravely. I heard Madame Steele cry out last night, +but no word from you." + +"Good reason for that; I was asleep nearly all the time." + +"Asleep!" he repeats. "Impossible!" + +"But quite true; I only heard you say there was no fear, and then I +turned over and went on with my dream." + +"Ah!" he says, making the German words rumble and bristle with +emphasis, "I am happy that assurance from me could so calm and comfort +you." + +"Yes," I say hypocritically, "the effect was magical; but were you +frightened?" + +"Yes, I admit it. Very much. But not for myself, I hardly need +say----" + +"What was that I heard about a pistol?" I interrupt, "or did I dream +it?" A faint flush passes over the Peruvian's face. + +"Did you hear? I was looking to see if it was in order when Madame +Steele opened her window. I was waked very suddenly, you see, and my +neighbour was shrieking that the boiler had broken and in a moment we +would all be in Eternity. I thought of you, Fräulein----" + +"In English, please," I say, "I can't follow you in German." + +He stops an instant, eying me doubtfully; a moment longer he +hesitates, and then, seeing that Mrs. Steele is busily talking of the +terrors of the night to a group of passengers, he continues in a lower +tone: + +"I dthought about you, it is needless dthat I zay. I hurry on mit my +long ofercoat and hold mine pistol deep in mine--mine--how you zay?" + +"Pocket." + +"Yes, in mine pawket, and I come dthree steps by a time up here to +your door." + +"Heavens!" I say, "did you want to shoot me?" + +"No, I vould safe you!" + +"What was the pistol for?" + +"You zee a Peruvian vill dthink qvick by a time like zo--he vill zay: +'I must safe dthe life of Señorita--dthere vill be boats, but dthere +vill be many to crowd in and all vill be lost. So I vill take von +leedle boat and I put dtherein Madame Steele and Señorita; if any +people try to growd in, I hold dthem back; if any inseest, I shoot +dthem dead, and safe Señorita.'" + +"Very humane of you.--Señor Noma," I call out suddenly, as that fiery +gentleman is passing by, "I want to hear how heroic _you_ were last +night." + +"Ah, mees," says the Guatemalan deprecatingly, as he stops before us, +"I did sit one meeserable quarter-hour by the rail with two life +presairvairs and try to raimember _one_ Ave Maria." + +Acting on Mrs. Steele's wise suggestion, I keep the Peruvian at bay as +much as possible; but this is not so easy as it might seem, and my +best safeguard is to stay with Mrs. Steele every moment and insist I +understand only English. Baron de Bach observes a day or two after +this: + +"Señorita's knowledge of French and Jherman ees better zome days dthan +odthers. But it ees gude for me that I vill learn spik zo beautiful +Eenglish." + +"Forgif me, Señorita," he says, beginning afresh after a pause, "but +_vhat_ blue eyes you haf!" + +"You are colour blind, Baron," observes Mrs. Steele, with a quiet +smile. The Peruvian starts slightly. Had he forgotten her? + +"Madame----" he begins. + +"Hush!" I say, with uplifted finger, "I hear the bells of San Blas." + +Mrs. Steele shades her eyes with one little grey-gloved hand, and +looks intently towards the undulating outline of the coast. The flood +of sunshine that bathes the world is flung back ceaselessly from the +shimmering sea, till the poor eyes of mortals are dazed and blinded +with the shifting splendour. + +Beyond, the rugged coast of misty purple has rest and charm for the +dazzled vision. There is a sympathetic interest in Mrs. Steele's +beautiful face, and I knew her fancy, like my own, had restored the +ancient Jesuit mission to the far-off headland, and the legend of +consecrated bells--that still ring out from a tower long since +crumbled--is fresh and vivid in her memory. + +"I really believe I hear the bells, don't you, Mrs. Steele?" She puts +the grey-gloved hand over her eyes as if she were tired. + +"I could hear them, dear, if I were twenty." + +"Vhat bells ees dthat?" The Peruvian turns away his fine head to +listen. "I hear nodthing." + +"You are the only one that hears them, Blanche; tell us what they +say." + +"Even Longfellow can't do that," I answer, "and his sense was so acute +and fine he heard them half across the world." + +I look out to the misty coast line and repeat: + + "What say the Bells of San Blas + To the ships that outward pass + To the harbour of Mazatlan? + To them it is nothing more + Than the sound of surf on the shore-- + Nothing more to master or man. + But to me, a dreamer of dreams, + To whom what is and what seems + Are often one and the same, + The Bells of San Blas to me + Have a strange wild melody, + And are something more than a name." + +"Ah, vas I not right, Madame Steele? I vill learn zo beautiful +Eenglish on dthis voyage." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +[Illustration: Chapter Two] + +MY INTERPRETER AT MAZATLAN + + +On the fifth day out from San Francisco we make the harbour of +Mazatlan, on the Mexican coast. The courtesy of the Captain secures us +a good view from "the bridge" as we approach our first port. A great +white rock juts up in the bay like a fragment of some Titan's +fortress; a lighthouse stares out to sea from a cliff at the harbour's +entrance; the tall cocoa palms wave their fern leaves in the blinding +sunshine, and red-roofed houses huddle below the dome of the Cathedral +rising white above the town. + +The harbour soon swarms with the countless boats of the natives coming +with fruit and wares to sell or hoping to earn a few _reales_ by +rowing the curious to the wharf. + +Señor Noma engages the largest of these boats and invites as many as +it will hold to go ashore with him. He helps in Mrs. Steele, Baron de +Bach brings me, and we are soon followed by Captain Ball and his wife, +and Miss Rogers, a pretty girl with her photographic camera and her +mamma, who is an Episcopal clergyman's wife, and so proud of the +circumstance that the gentlemen have dubbed her "The Church of +England." + +The Mexican oarsmen make one think of comic opera brigands, except +that they look rather dirtier and their speech is music without song. +We land at a rude wharf in the low sea wall and pass through groups of +dark-skinned natives who eye us with sleepy interest. Through narrow +streets we troop one after another towards the heart of Mazatlan. + +It is oppressively warm, and Captain Ball begs us all to come into a +restaurant and get some cooling drink. Mrs. Steele and I have limes +and Apollinaris, while Señor Noma, true to his red-hot appetite, +tosses off a glass of mezcal, the fire-water of the Mexicans, the +most scorching beverage ever concocted. + +"How would you like a true Megsican dinair, Mees?" says Señor Noma, +blinking a little as the liquid fire pours down his throat. "It ees +not bad." + +"I should fancy it might be very interesting," I say. + +"Well, then, if Madama Steele and the ladies and zhentlemen present +will do me so much honour I will await them at the Hotel Nacional at +seven o'clock. I must now see a friend. _Adios!_" + +While the rest are taking leave Baron de Bach bows to me with his +glass of Rhine wine held out to touch mine. With a comparatively +serene face he mutters: + +"You talk to efery one but me; I vould like to shoot dhem all." + +"It mightn't do," I say, "even in Mexico." + +He turns away with a frown between his fine, straight brows. + +"Madame, vill you and Señorita come to drive? I know dthe place and +vill be intairpretair?" + +"Yes," says Mrs. Steele. "I intend sending for a carriage; we can get +over more ground in that way, and we have so little time." + +The Peruvian gives an order to the servant and shortly a vehicle +stands at the door. It is a lumbering old open carriage that has +evidently been grand in its day--with two white horses that match it +in age and decrepitude. In the best of spirits we drive off. The Baron +talks Spanish with the driver and answers all our million inquiries. + +We learn that the best houses are built round a hollow square called a +_patio_, and the occasional glimpses through the opening of massive +doors into these courts reveal a sun-shiny garden of tropical fruits +and flowers. Roses everywhere fill the afternoon with fragrance, and +the strong aroma of ripening bananas and pines makes the hot air +heavy. + +"Ees it like vhat you dthought?" asks the Peruvian. + +"Much better in some respects," I say, "but the houses look +dreadfully dreary outside; they are more like prisons than homes, with +their great blank walls and here and there an arched and grated +window." + +"And there's not a pane of glass in the town," says Mrs. Steele, +"lattices inside and wooden shutters without." + +"Yes, and I've noticed ever so many pairs of bright eyes peering +through those lattices. Poor things!" I say feelingly, "I suppose a +Mexican girl of good family must have a very stupid time." + +"Not in dthe slightes'," says the Peruvian with decision. "Vomans air +much better take care off; dthey air fery happy, I 'sure you," and +turning to me--"You vould like it yourself after a leedle." + +"Indeed I shouldn't! And neither would the unfortunates who had charge +of me." + +We pass a Catholic graveyard with high adobe wall and are at the +Hospital Municipal, our objective point. A dark young man in +ill-fitting clothes receives us and shows us about this primitive +refuge. The floors are tiled and all the appointments are rude, but +very clean. + +Baron de Bach distributes his Mexican dollars so generously the dark +young man is quite overcome. He asks some question with solemn black +eyes fixed on me. The Peruvian laughs with slight confusion and I +catch "_Si_" in his reply. The dark young man puts another query. + +"What's it all about?" says Mrs. Steele; "you promised to interpret." + +"Oh, yes, if I must. Dthis zhentleman ask if dthis young lady ees my +wife and if she like roses." + +"Oh, let us see the roses," says Mrs. Steele, calmly ignoring the +wretch's prevarication, for I know to the first question he said +"Yes." With my nose in the air I follow the rest into the rose garden +of the hospital, where all is so lovely I quite forget I am offended. + +Oh, the rose trees and the wilderness of bloom! + +The dark young man gathers for Mrs. Steele and the Baron de Bach for +me. + +"You ask me vonce vhat kind was a Castilian rose. Look, Señorita, so +_weich so süss, so fein, wie die Castilien Frauen_," and he hands me a +pale pink rose, loose-petalled, fragile, and very fragrant. With great +bunches in our hands we leave the hospital garden, and I notice with +irritation that the dark young man in bidding me good-bye, long life +and happiness, salutes me as "Señora." + +It is six o'clock and we drive towards the town. The narrow streets +are full of idlers in every attitude of picturesque languor. Mrs. +Steele sympathises deeply with the lean and patient little burros +with wooden racks on their backs holding on either side a clay jar +filled with water. + +[Illustration: "LOOK, SENORITA!"--_Page 48_] + +"Efery yar ees two media, about twenty-five cent your money. Vater ees +more dearer dthan vine," explains our interpreter. + +We find all the rest of the company assembled at the Hotel Nacional in +the gallery on the ground floor that looks into the _patio_. Mrs. +Steele and I are shown by a native servant (half Indian, I should +think) into a room across the court, where we make a primitive toilet. +This is the very best hotel of Mazatlan, but the guest chamber is +guiltless of carpet or rug; the one high window, grated and latticed, +looks into the narrow street. A bed heavily draped with coarse +curtains stands in one corner, and under a cracked glass giving forth +a freckled and bilious reflection stands the deal toilet-table. A tin +pan does duty for bowl, a delightful old clay carafe holds the water, +and an abalone shell contains a bit of yellow laundry soap. + +With these aids to beauty we reappear refreshed and ready for the dinner +that is spread in the half-open gallery. Only a trellis thickly mantled +with grape vines is between us and the garden; indeed, over the top of +this screen I can see, as I sit at the table, the vine-leaves rise and +fall in the soft air, and the more ambitious tendrils daintily +pencilled against the red sky of that lovely Mexican evening. An odd +dinner it is; but Señor Noma makes a most courteous host, and the dishes +are certainly rare and interesting--generally peppery beyond words to +describe and most of them liberally seasoned with garlic. But the +luscious fruits, the "_vino blanco_," and champagne cool our smarting +palates and reconcile us to our gastronomic ventures. At the beginning +of the meal, out of the meditative mood that has overtaken him, Baron de +Bach rouses himself to enter into earnest conversation with the little +Mexican boy who is helping to serve us. I notice the boy's snapping +black eyes and fine oval face, and how he nods with an added gleam as +he says "_Si! si!_" to every remark of the Baron's, and finally +disappears. In a few minutes he returns and presents a large bunch of +lovely orchids to Mrs. Steele. Then he exchanges a few words with the +Baron and is off again like a shot. + +"Yust to show you dthat flowers can grow here _out_ of a hospital +garden," explains the Baron, bowing across the table to my friend and +adding under his breath: + +"I haf send for odthers for you, Señorita." + +Towards the end of this curious dinner the Mexican boy returns with a +great round native basket piled high with roses and strange rare +flowers I have never seen before--such wonderful fantastic conceits in +bloom that I can only look and clasp my hands about the dainty store. +Mrs. Steele recalls Hernando Cortes' wonder and delight at the flowery +surprises of the new world three hundred years ago. + +"Ah, yes," says Señor Noma, who has caught the remark, "you see we haf +something worth your notice in this dark corner of America. If you +stay here longer you will find we haf many things you would like." + +Baron de Bach is strangely quiet all the evening, but the unfailing +good temper of our host and the gaiety of the others keep us at the +table till the pale crescent of the new moon looks in over the vine +trellis to warn us of the waning hours. + +"We must remember the Captain's caution to be back by eleven," says +Captain Ball, consulting his watch. + +"Yes, but it ees scarce nine o'clock," says Señor Noma. "Mrs. Steele, +will you accept my escor'?" And our clever host, having won over the +only possible objector, leads the way out into the dim, mysterious +street. + +"Vill you haf zome Eendian dthings, _en souvenir_?" asks the Baron, +offering me his arm. + +"Indian things!" I echoed, delighted. "I should like to see them +immensely, wouldn't you, Mrs. Steele?" and I explain. The notion is +received with enthusiasm, and Baron de Bach takes us to a little shop, +where some sinister-looking men and women show us glazed clay mugs +rudely decorated and often adorned with some Spanish name in scrawling +script. There are carafes with cups to match, pipes, whistles, and +animals in clay and little dishes of every description. The Baron buys +a great tray full of these things, and hires a barefooted "moso" to +carry them down to the wharf. We go on to the garden-planted Plaza +that had so attracted us by day. Now it is a blaze of light and +resonant with the strains of a Mexican band. Dark-visaged idlers +lounge on the long seats about the garden, and a constantly shifting +throng moves up and down on every side. + +Affecting to show me a white flower that thrust its dainty head +through the garden's iron fence and filled the air with heavy, strange +perfume, Baron de Bach separates me a few moments from my friends. + +"At last," he says, with a deep breath, looking around and seeing that +the others have passed on, "I haf you a moment alone. I haf been in +torture dthese seven hours." + +"Very polite speech," I answer, peering through the garden's iron +palings, "seeing that you have been with me these seven sad hours." + +"Ah, Señorita, it ees no use dthat I egsplain, you air zo fery +heartless. I do not find myself possible to make you out. You haf +pairhaps had too many tell you 'I loaf you'--you care not any more. I +haf travel dthe vorld ofer, many beautiful and clevair vomans haf loaf +me. I haf seen nefer a voman like you for not to care. Efery body loaf +you, you loaf nobody, and vhen a man say 'You air charmante,' you say +'Vill ve feeshe to-day?' If a man say 'You haf eyes wie die Sternen im +Himmel' you ask 'Hear you dthose bells of San Blas?' and vhen a man +say 'I loaf you to deestraction' you tell him 'I do so like dthose +qveer Megsican Eendians.'" The Baron strikes the pavement violently +with his stick. "Vill you marry von qveer Megsican Eendian, Señorita?" +I laugh at the funny conclusion and the Peruvian's excited face. + +"Monsieur," I say, "I'm told that nearly every man says 'I love you' +to an average of eighteen women in a lifetime; he perhaps really cares +at various times for three, and the rest do well to let the mistake +pass unchallenged and soon forgotten. I am not especially +strong-minded myself, and I don't object to your talking a little +nonsense, for I find you very entertaining; but I won't deceive you +so far as to let you think I believe you." + +A low volley of French so quick and excited that I cannot follow it is +the Peruvian's reply. I am a little bit uneasy at the look in his +face; the glow of ruddy health runs out like a fast-ebbing tide, and +although I have not understood his French, with the intuition of my +sex I comprehend his face, and I look around for the rest of the +party. He catches the glance and seems to struggle for self-control. + +"Señorita, take my arm; ve shall valk. I vill hope to teach Señorita +zome day dthat Peruvians air no liars." + +"Ah, Baron," I say deprecatingly, "I never meant that, you didn't +understand me--I----" + +"No," he interrupts--"I know dthat often I understand you not and +zometimes it ees my so bad Eenglish dthat ees to blame. If I could +tell you all in Spanish you _must_ believe," and before all the people +in the Plaza he lifts the hand that lies on his arm and kisses it. + +I flash a horrified look around, but no one seems to have noticed. + +"Like you dthe Spanish tongue?" he asks quite unconcerned. + +"Yes, very much," I say, glad to get him on some impersonal subject, +"it is the most musical in the world, I believe." + +"You vould soon learn it," he says, "you understand many words now, I +know by your face. Can you say my name, I vondair; try! Federico +Guillermo." + +"Federico Guillermo," I repeat imperfectly--"what a beautiful name!" + +"Dthen Blanca vill call me 'Guillermo.' I like not 'de Baron de Bach' +from her lips. Besides ve use not titles in Peru." + +Mrs. Steele and Señor Noma call us from the corner of the Plaza as we +approach. + +"We've been round four times hunting for you; where in the world have +you been?" says Mrs. Steele, looking disapproving and a little out of +breath. + +"Walking about here looking for you! I couldn't imagine where you +were," I say. + +The others come up and we turn our faces towards the harbour. The +dusky oarsmen are waiting for us, and we are soon skimming over the +dark water--I with my hoard of flowers in my lap and my eyes fixed on +the great dim hulk of the _San Miguel_ anchored out in the bay. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +[Illustration: Chapter Three] + +I AM LECTURED + + +"Blanche," says Mrs. Steele the next morning as she brushes out the +lovely waves of prematurely grey hair, "what are you going to do about +t h e Baron?" + +"Do?" I repeat innocently. "What's the matter with him?" + +"Now, Blanche, you said if I would promise not to interfere you would +be frank. I'm not sure I am wise to adhere to my side of the bargain +under any circumstances. I never thought you the kind of a girl to go +on letting a man fall more and more in love knowing all the while you +would never be able to give him more than a passing interest." + +"How do you know that? Perhaps I'm disguising all sorts of fierce and +fiery feelings under my cool exterior?" + +"No, my dear, you can't impose on an old friend so far as that. You +are a queer girl and not always easy to understand, but you care less +for the Baron de Bach than I do, and you know it. Now, what makes you +act so?" and she arraigns me with uplifted brush. + +"Dear Mrs. Steele, I'm a student of human nature in a small way. If I +know anything about our Peruvian friend he will fall out of 'love,' as +you are pleased to call his chronic state of sentiment, as readily as +he fell in, and no bones broke, either. He would have forgotten all +about me before this and gone over to pretty Miss Rogers and the study +of photography except that I've been a bit obdurate--unusually so, he +is naïve enough to assure me, and his vanity is piqued." + +Mrs. Steele lays down her brush and begins to coil up the long, soft +hair. + +"My dear, you are very old for your years. When I was twenty I would +have made a hero out of that man instead of calmly picking out his +foibles--girls are not what they used to be." + +I retire to my stateroom after breakfast to read. The Baron retaliates +by becoming aware of pretty Miss Rogers' existence. Pretty Miss +Rogers' mamma is conspicuously polite to him, and pretty Miss Rogers' +self offers to play the piano to his violin. It is Mrs. Steele who +brings me these tidings and assures me that Miss Rogers plays well, +and, as for the Baron de Bach, he is a master! I resolutely read my +book till luncheon time and, going up on deck afterwards, I am +surprised that the ever-watchful Baron has not hurried to meet me. He +seems utterly indifferent to the fact of my presence and leans beside +Miss Rogers at the ship's rail talking contentedly. + +"H'm!" I muse, "music _hath_ charms! At all events he must not be +allowed to suppose that I notice, much less care for, his defection," +and I turn to talk animatedly with Captain Ball about Mazatlan. His +wife comes up with an aggressive-looking Californian who has asked +several persons to present him, but I've successfully evaded his +acquaintance till now. + +"It's not often we have the pleasure of a word with you," says Mrs. +Ball, after introducing her companion. "Baron de Bach is such a +monopolist. Just see how he is engrossing Miss Rogers now. What a +pretty girl she is, and how well she plays. Did you hear her and the +Baron this morning?" + +"No," I say calmly, "I was so unfortunate as to miss that. Baron de +Bach has contracted a benevolent habit of reading French aloud to Mrs. +Steele and me every morning, and one doesn't _always_ yearn to listen +to French with a dreadful German accent, so I excused myself and +passed the forenoon in my room." + +"You must be glad to hear the Baron has found some other congenial +occupation." Mrs. Ball laughs, and exchanges a look with the +Californian. + +"It may have its advantages," I reply, determined not to be ruffled. + +At that moment the Peruvian comes up to ask me if I will sit in a +group to be photographed. + +"Oh, please don't ask me," I say pleasantly; "I hate sitting for my +picture." + +"But I beg you. Madame Steele haf promise to help us. She ask me to +zay she will spik vidth you." + +With a show of indolence I accompany him to where Mrs. Steele's chair +is stretched out under the awning, for the day is very sultry. + +"I haf play vidth Mees Rogair," he whispers on the way, "and haf make +her promise to get out her camarah--I vould haf your photographie." + +Mrs. Steele groups the party, and we succeed in getting several +unusually grotesque and dreadful pictures. If anything could cure one +person's sentimental regard for another, it would be the sight of just +such amateur caricatures as were turned out that afternoon. Mrs. +Steele looks a little like her handsome self in the proofs shown us +next day. Miss Rogers develops an unflattering likeness to a dutch +doll--I am as black as a Congo negro and wear the scowl of a brigand, +while Baron de Bach, after carefully brushing his hair and twirling +his moustache to the proper curve, comes out with a white blot +instead of a face; a suggestion of one eye peers shyly forth from the +moon-like mask, and the Peruvian is greatly disgusted. I shall ever +regard an amateur's camera as a great moral engine for the extirpation +of personal vanity. + +On the evening of the eighth day we steam into the far-famed Bay of +Acapulco. + +It is sunset, and from the Captain's bridge we watch the headlands +taking bolder shape against the brilliant sky, the lighthouse flushing +pink in the reflection. We see the long, low red-roofed Lazaretto set +peacefully among the hills, and away to the right the straggling town +of Acapulco, fringed with cocoa palms and guarded on the other side +by an old and primitive fort. + +A wonderful land-locked harbour is Acapulco, and the bold hills +circling it seemed that night to shut it out from all the rest of the +world. + +"That town is more like old Spain than Spain herself," I hear a +gentleman from Madrid say to Mrs. Steele. "It has remained since +Cortes' day, with no other land communication than an occasional mule +train affords; and the manners and customs and speech of Cortes' +followers are preserved there to-day." + +"Can't we go ashore?" I ask the Captain, pleadingly. + +"Well, you can't stay long," is the gruff answer. "We must get away +early to-morrow morning." + +But Baron de Bach, overhearing, says: + +"I tell Madame Steele ve can haf supper in dthe town. Vill you come, +Señorita?" + +"Thanks, with pleasure, if Mrs. Steele agrees," and my spirits rise +high at the prospect. + +The great red sun rests one splendid moment on the wooded heights and +dyes the waters of Acapulco's bay in dusky carmine, and it throws into +bolder silhouette the black hull of the disabled man-of-war _Alaska_, +anchored after many storms in this fair and quiet haven. The health +commissioners are long in coming, and it is late before Mrs. Steele, +the Baron and I are pushed off from the _San Miguel_ and headed +towards the town. It is dark when we reach the wharf, and Baron de +Bach gives us each an arm, saying: + +"It ees not safe dthat you leaf me; stay close beside." + +"Yes," observes Mrs. Steele encouragingly, "I've heard that these +wretches think nothing of murdering a stranger for a ring or a few +reales." + +"Dthere ees no fear; I haf mine pistol." + +But nevertheless I have a delightfully creepy sensation as we pass the +occasional groups of evil-looking natives, and I keep close beside the +muscular Peruvian, with a new sense of comfort in his presence. At +the little hotel not far from the wharf the Baron orders supper, and +then takes us into the market. + +This interesting place is lit with smoky old lamps and flaring +torches, and the fitful light shows weird pictures to our unaccustomed +eyes. Each booth is in charge of one or more women, and here and there +is a man resplendent in overshadowing sombrero, with heavy silver +braid wound about the crown. The women have the scantiest of clothing, +arms and neck bare, dark eyes glittering, and dusky unkempt hair. The +atmosphere is stifling, but we must endure it long enough to get some +of the wares. The women chatter volubly, and even leave their booths +to come and take us by the dress and urge us to some dingy stall. +Vegetables and fruit are piled about in profusion, but we make our way +to the pottery tables. I am afraid to admire the curious designs and +archaic workmanship, for everything I notice approvingly the Peruvian +straightway buys, and we soon have a basket full. + +"Ah! Figurines you must haf!" he exclaims as we approach a booth +populous with little clay figures, tiny men and women in native dress, +engaged in native avocations. These evidence no small cleverness in +the modeller, and the Baron insists on taking a dozen. Far on the +other side of the market some Indian women crouch in a semi-circle +over an open air fire. + +"What are they doing?" asks Mrs. Steele. + +"Dthey make tortillas," says the Baron. + +"Oh, yes, I've heard about these meal cakes," says my friend, stopping +to look at the queer group. One old woman jumps up and offers her +something smoking in a pan. Mrs. Steele, bent upon discovery, bravely +tears off a bit and tastes it, throwing the woman a coin. + +"Give me some," I say. + +"No," interposes the Baron, with a fatherly decision; "you vill haf +supper soon, and I haf order tortillas. Mine vill be better. Vait +leedle." + +Really, the Baron has quite taken me in hand, I think, half amused. +But he is a very necessary quantity in this pilgrimage ashore, and I +walk on obediently by his side, meditating how queer that one who +appeared so masterful and imperious at times could be at others so +weak and almost childish. It shed a new light on his character to see +him ashore. Here he knows the people and their tongue, all our wants +must pass through his interpretation, and he is master of the +situation. He seems, moreover, to fall naturally and simply into the +new office, and treats me quite as if I were a child. I want to stop +and get some plantains as we pass a fruit stall. + +"No," says the Baron, "you must not eat dthem; dthey air--_unreif_." + +"Ah, but really," I say, "I _must_ taste a plaintain; suppose you had +never seen one of that kind before." + +"I vill not buy dthem; I vill not see you ill," he says. + +"Very well, I'll buy one for myself." I drop his arm and run to the +booth, and, laying my finger on the greenest plantain I can find, I +say: + +"_Quantos?_" + +The old woman in charge gabbles away for dear life, and, not feeling +that I am progressing very rapidly, I lay down a media and take up +the plantain. The Baron comes to my rescue with a half-amused, +half-vexed smile. + +"She haf cheat you," and he levels a volley of Spanish at the old +criminal. "See," he says, "she vill gif you all dthose limes if you +gif back dthat plantain, you vill be glad of limes _abord du San +Miguel_." + +"Yes," I say. "I'll have the limes, too." And I put down another +media. He looks at me curiously. + +"Ask her to send them to the hotel," I say. He gives the old woman +some rapid directions. + +"Now ve vill haf supper," and we are soon sitting in a private room at +the hotel discussing soup, fish, tortillas and frejoles (the Mexican +black bean) and enchalades, which are only the coarse Indian meal +cakes, "tortillas," rolled up like a French pancake, with cheese and +cayenne pepper and a variety of disagreeable things inside, but +considered quite a delicacy among Mexicans. It is long before I +recover from my first mouthful, and the Baron stands over me with a +fan and a glass of wine, while Mrs. Steele laughs until the tears come +into her eyes. + +"Water! water!" I gasp. + +"No, _vino blanco_, Señorita," says the Baron, putting the glass to my +lips. I drain the last drop. + +"Now some water, please." + +"Yes, leedle more _vino blanco_," says the Peruvian, pouring out +another glass. + +"Don't you understand?" I say hotly. "I want water--_Wasser_! _De +l'eau--Aqua!_" + +The waiter starts at the last word and takes up a clay carafe. + +The Baron shakes his head and gives some brief command in Spanish. The +servant looks sulky and puts down the bottle. + +"What do you mean?" I say, with still smarting tongue. "Is it Spanish +etiquette to ask a lady to supper and then refuse her a glass of +water?" + +"Madame," says the Peruvian quietly to Mrs. Steele, "no von here +drink vater; it makes always fery seeck," and he signs to the servant +to serve the next course. + +"I despise _vino blanco_," I say; "I'd as soon drink weak vinegar." +Nevertheless I sip my second glass, as there is no prospect of +anything else. + +A "moso" comes in with a big basket containing our purchases. I beckon +him to bring it to me, and look among the limes for my precious +plantain. + +"Señorita," says the Peruvian, breaking off a conversation with Mrs. +Steele upon native dishes, "I haf here pineapple sairve vidth ice and +sugar and vine; it is dthe most delicieux of all fruit. Allow me to +raicommend you." And the waiter puts the tempting plate before me. + +"Thank you," I say, "but I am looking for my plantain. Will you have +the boy find it, there are so many things in this basket?" A few words +between the "moso" and the Baron, the latter smiles a little. + +"_Très curieux_, dthat old voman forget to put in dthat plantain!" + +Mrs. Steele's amusement is most offensive. + +"My dear, you are in the power of the interpreter; you will find our +friend less manageable on shore than on board the _San Miguel_." + +The Baron looks innocence itself and creates a diversion by throwing +pieces of roll out over the lattice to the street children, whose +black eyes and black fingers appear through the slats. Each piece is +received with squeals, a grand rush and protracted squabbling, and +finally the more audacious appear at the door. They peep in, throw us +a flower and then scuttle away. One tiny beggar brings a small bouquet +and puts it in my lap. The Baron gives her a media and says something +about "vamos." She flies off, but only to tell the rest of the success +of her mission, and the whole horde troop in and pile the corner of +the table with more or less faded roses and appeal vociferously for +"Media! media!" The Baron, seeing that we are amused, tosses a coin +over their heads. It goes over the lattice and into the street, and +the black little troop tear out and fight and scuffle under the +window. They come in again and again, but finally, Peruvian patience +and Mexican medias being alike exhausted, the Baron rises in his seat +looking remarkably ferocious, and addresses them in stirring Spanish. +The whole crowd take to their heels, tumbling one over another in +excited haste. + +"What in the world have you said?" asked Mrs. Steele, greatly amused. + +"Oh, nodthing much," says the Baron in his usual low and gentle tone; +"I only zay if dthey effer come again I vill cut dthem up vidth a big +knife and haf dthem boil for breakfast." + +"You barbarian!" laughs Mrs. Steele, rising. And then she looks about. +"We might have a glimpse of the church before we go if there's time." + +"Sairtainly!" agrees the Baron, and we find our way through the now +quieter and dimmer thoroughfare to the Catholic Cathedral behind the +Plaza. The occasional candle gives out too dim a light for us to form +much of an idea of the interior, but it is cool and damp and +mysterious. Mrs. Steele, who is a thorough and highly intelligent +sightseer, explores the dim corners and finally goes back for a last +look at some detail she found specially interesting. I wait for her +in the dusk down by the door; the Baron has disappeared for the +moment. "I wish Mrs. Steele wouldn't be so particular about taking +notes," I say to myself. "I'm tired, and it's very uncanny and +grave-like here." A little sound beside me, and I turn with a start. +In the dim light I see a chimpanzee-like face looking up to mine. It +is horribly seared and wrinkled, one tooth sticks out from the wide, +shrivelled lips, and the beady animal-like eyes glare through grey elf +locks. I am speechless with fright, till the dreadful apparition +stretches out a skinny arm and with some strange words lays a +claw-like hand on my bare wrist. I shrink back, uttering a little +muffled cry of horror. + +The big Peruvian comes hurriedly towards me from the other side of the +church. + +"Vas dthat you, Señorita?" he says. + +Faint with fatigue and fright, I put out a shaking hand to steady +myself self against the damp pillar. + +"Señorita, you air so white!" he says hurriedly, and coming near he +draws me away from the clammy wall. + +"You haf been frighten?" he asks softly, his face close to mine. + +"Yes," I find breath to say; "a witch or a monkey is in the church, +and it touched me in the dark." + +A shiver runs over me again at the remembrance, but I try to draw away +from the strong, close grasp. + +"You vill faint, Señorita--I cannot let you go; dthere ees no seat +here." He takes off my hat and fans me. "Zome boy try to frighten +you," he says consolingly. + +Mrs. Steele calls from the other side: "Where are you, Blanche?" + +The Baron answers for me, holds me closer for an instant, and I think +he touches my hair lightly with his lips. + +"Forgif me, Señorita. I vill find dthat boy vhat frighten you zo; I +vill gif him von hundred pesos for my sake, and I vill kill him +afterwards for yours." + +I put on my hat a little unsteadily, still thinking more of that awful +brutish face than of the Baron. Mrs. Steele comes up with note-book +open in her hand. + +"I've just seen the most dreadful little old crone," she says +cheerily; "she's like some grotesque dream--why, what's the +matter----?" + +She breaks off, looking at me as we stand under the lamplight just +outside the door. + +"It must be the same thing I saw," I say to the Baron; "what a goose I +am--but it looked like nothing human in the half light. I was so +scared," I confess, a little nervously. + +"You look like a ghost, child; it was only a withered old beggar." And +Mrs. Steele puts her arm about me, and we go to inspect an ancient +well where the native women are filling clay jars and chatting merrily +as they file in and out of the gateway of the enclosure with their +picturesque burdens gracefully poised on head or shoulder. + +"Let us go to dthe Plaza; Madame and Señorita can sit down for a +leedle." + +It is only a step, and we are soon resting on one of the semi-circular +stone seats, listening to some primitive music and watching the +enjoyment of the people. Mrs. Steele draws my head down on her +shoulder and I shut my eyes. The Baron puts a coat over me and hums a +low accompaniment to the fantastic air. Suddenly I become aware of +someone touching me from behind the stone seat. I start up and turn +quickly, to find my apparition of the church chattering at my back. +Her restless eyes and the one white fang shine out from the shrivelled +monkey-face, and the skeleton arms with wrinkled, black skin drawn +loosely over the bones hold out long strings of shells. The strong +light shows her even uglier than I had thought, but it robs her of her +ghostliness, and I interrupt the Baron's probably impolite remarks by +saying: + +"Don't drive her away. I'll buy some of her shells in remembrance of +the worst shock I've received in Mexico." + +Soon I am decorated with chains of sea-treasures wound about waist and +neck and arms, and the old crone stands by gibbering and nodding +approval. + +The Baron laughs at her last shot as she moves away with my media in +her hand and some unusually rich guerdon from him. + +"What is she chattering about?" asks Mrs. Steele. + +"She zay she know dthe Señorita vidth dthe pretty eyes would like dthe +shaills, and dthat vas vhy she follow her in dthe church, but Señorita +ees easy frighten. Señor must take gude care off her and nefer leaf +her." + +Mrs. Steele smiles indulgently and draws out her watch. + +"It's time we were going," she says. "The _San Miguel's_ lights will +be all out, I'm afraid." + +The Baron's "cargodor" meets us at the wharf laden with our bizarre +purchases, and, after bestowing us and them in the boat, he dips his +oars and we glide out into the bay. The far-off steamer is wrapped in +darkness, the lamps are all extinguished in the staterooms, for it is +long past eleven, but the waves flash every attack of the oar, and the +Southern Cross shines aslant the sky. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +[Illustration: Chapter Four] + +I DRINK COCOANUT MILK AND GO FISHING FOR PEARLS + + +I fancy I have just fallen asleep when I am roused by hearing someone +speaking at the port hole. I open my eyes to find it is the peep o' +day, and out of the dull, grey dawn a Mexican's face looks in at my +window. + +"What do you want?" I demand, and in the same breath, "Go away! Mrs. +Steele! Mrs. Steele!" To my amazement Mrs. Steele appears in the +doorway all dressed. + +"That's only the Baron's boatman, my dear, come to call you. I've had +a raging headache, and the place was so hot I dressed and went up on +deck, and there was the Baron de Bach pacing up and down--_he_ +couldn't sleep, either. He suggests we take a boat and go out to catch +the early breeze and see the sun rise from the other side of the bay. +Will you come?" + +"Of course I will," I say sleepily, and not in the best of tempers. +"There was no need to send that evil-looking brigand to wake me! My +nerves are in a continual tremor in this blessed place. Do you know, +Mrs. Steele," I say, fishing under the berth for a renegade stocking, +"I've a sort of presentiment I shan't leave the shores of the Pacific +without some kind of misfortune or hair-breadth escape." + +"Nonsense!" says my practical friend, "you've eaten something that has +disagreed with you. Hurry as fast as you can; the Captain says we +weigh anchor at eight o'clock." + +I finish a hasty toilet and follow Mrs. Steele on deck. The Baron is +waiting--he looks pale and rather graver than usual. + +"Good-morning, Señorita," he says, and we shake hands. "Haf you +sleep?" + +"Oh, yes," I say, accepting the coffee he has ordered. "I always +sleep." + +The first faint flush of the coming splendour spreads above the hills +as we push off from the _San Miguel_. Deeper and deeper grow the +purple and the saffron till long shafts of golden light shoot up from +hilltop to high heaven, and the great red sun of the tropics peers an +instant over the mountain wall that shuts in Acapulco. + +"This is a sunrise I think we shall never forget," says Mrs. Steele +with grave enjoyment. + +The Baron and I say nothing. + +The air blows cool and fresh, and we skirt the rugged beach, close to +the high-piled rocks at the water's edge, till we come to a cocoa +grove sheltering a few thatched cottages. + +The Baron gives some direction to the boatman, and we are moored in +shallow water. The Mexican jumps out of the boat and disappears in the +grove. The water is so clear we have been able to see the bottom for a +long time, and now the Baron shows me how to use a boathook in +spearing the red starfish. We succeed in bringing up several, but they +turn brown when out of the water and are said to sting. So we throw +them back and turn to hear the Indian water-women singing and laughing +as they follow the winding, rugged path half way up the heights. The +red-brown feet and ankles must be as strong as they are shapely; the +arms holding aloft the water jars are well moulded and taper finely to +the wrist; splendid freedom is in every motion and a grace their +fairer sisters have forgotten. I see the admiration in Baron de Bach's +face. + +"You like that type?" I ask. + +"It ees part of dthe landscape," he answers; "ve like it in dthe +picture. Ve put more deeferent vomans in our hearts and homes." + +"H'm!" coughs Mrs. Steele. "My dear, the boatman is coming back with a +huge bunch of cocoanuts." + +"Yes," the Baron says, "I dthought you vould like to taste dthe +milk." + +The Mexican rolls up his white trousers and wades back to the boat. He +pulls his naked knife out of his sash and begins to cut away the thick +green rind of the nut. That done, the Baron takes it from him and +shows us the three eyes at one end where the fibre is soft. When the +sharp point of the knife is inserted the liquid within spurts up into +the Baron's face. + +"Oh!" he says, with a comical look of dismay, "ve haf no cup; ve must +drink like dthe natives," and he saws away an opening and hands the +cocoanut to Mrs. Steele. She puts her lips to the shell and tastes a +drop with dainty distrust. + +"Oh, Madame, it ees fery gude--you vill like it if you drink more!" +But Mrs. Steele passes it on to me. The first sip is so cool and +refreshing I greedily tip the shell to take a long draught, and the +liquid runs down both sides of my mouth into my lap. The Baron insists +there is an art in cocoanut tippling. + +"You must hold dthe mout' zo--" and he illustrates, "and dthe cocoa +zo." He puts it cautiously to his lips. "Now!" he says, after taking a +sip, "you try!" + +With childish good faith I take the clumsy nut, but as I lift it to +drink I notice a covert gleam of satisfaction in the Peruvian's eyes, +and I realise in a flash that the cocoa shell is becoming a sort of a +loving-cup--for there was but one little place cut for drinking where +first I essayed the draught and then the Baron. + +"My dear," remarks my quiet but observant chaperon, "I have never been +able before to account for the milk in the cocoanut. I know all about +it now!" + +I throw the shell into the water with an impatient gesture. + +"I know all I wish to. It's a great bother and very little gained." + +The Baron looks disagreeably amused, and I feel hot. + +"Capitan," he says to me, "vill you take dthe tiller again?" + +I pick up the tiller ropes and steer out towards some small schooners +grouped to the left of the town near the entrance of the harbour. + +"I do believe those are pearl fishers," says Mrs. Steele, who has been +looking through her glass. The Baron starts up and questions the +Mexican. + +"_Si! Si!_" he answers, and with long, even strokes he brings us +within speaking distance of the nearest vessel. Baron de Bach stands +up and shouts out a series of inquiries in Spanish. I look over the +side of the boat, and at a vision in the water I start from my seat +with a shriek of delight and almost capsize the poor Peruvian. He +clutches wildly at the air and finally keels over backwards on the +astonished Mexican. + +When they recover they find Mrs. Steele and me leaning over the side +of the boat following the uncertain motions of a bloated crab-like +monster crawling along the bottom of the deep. + +"Why, that's the diver," explains Mrs. Steele. "You see that rubber +tube--one end is attached to the machine on the schooner, the other to +his helmet; he breathes through that. They are pumping air through it +every moment." + +"Yes," says the Baron, having regained his equilibrium. "You cannot +zee, but he haf a basket tie vidth a cord to hees belt; he fill it +vidth shaills, and vhen he make a pull dthey draw it up and empty it. +Zee, now!" + +He points to the steamer where, hand over hand, they haul in a cable. +At the end is the square wicker basket filled with great pearl shell +oysters. They turn them out and lower the receptacle for another load. +The Baron throws some money to a man in the schooner, and soon three +or four pearl oysters are tossed into our boat. The Mexican's knife is +again called into requisition and the shells are forced open. Nothing +in the first--nothing in the second--nothing in th----stop! the Baron +has found a pearl! + +[Illustration: "THE BARON HAS FOUND A PEARL!"--_Page 112_] + +"It ees von chance out of a dthousand!" he says, amazed. "I nefer +found von before--but it ees so leedle!" + +"Never mind!" I say with enthusiasm. "We've been pearl-fishing and +we've found a pearl!" + +Mrs. Steele is examining it minutely; the Baron leans over to me and +says low, in German: + +"It shall be set for you in diamonds, Fräulein; it will remind you of +spilt cocoanut milk and pearl-fishing in Acapulco's shining bay--it +will mean to me a woman, Blanca, fine and fair, I found on the ocean. +As I think of all it signifies to me, I believe I must ask you to let +me keep my pearl," and he gazes into my eyes with such a world of +meaning in his own, I look away and trail my hand in the water. "What +say you, Fräulein?" he persists. "I have travelled so far to find it, +I have so nearly missed it, and here at last it lies in my +possession." + +"Are you so sure it is in your possession?" I say, looking across to +Mrs. Steele, who is rolling the tiny treasure about in her palm. + +"At least," he says, "it is within the reach of a strong arm, and if a +jewel begged is not generously given, it can be snatched out of a +capricious hand, if only for safer keeping----" and the Peruvian's +deep eyes look into my half-averted face. + +"My friend does not speak German," I say; "she will think you very +rude." Then in English, "Please let me see the pearl again, Mrs. +Steele." + +"It is absolutely flawless," she says, holding it out to me. The +Peruvian intercepts it. He draws out of an inner pocket a gold-mounted +letter-case and a book of cigarette paper. Deliberately he wraps the +pearl in one of the tissue leaves, and, looking steadily at me, pushes +the new treasure far into a corner of the crested case. There is more +significance than mirth in the laugh with which he says: + +"I vill show all unbeliefers dthat I know how to value and to _keep_ a +pearl vhen I find von." + +Mrs. Steele succumbs to one of her old headaches on our return to the +steamer, and I pass the greater part of the day in seclusion with her. +After luncheon, as I linger to superintend the arrangements of the +invalid's tea-tray, the Baron joins me. + +"I am vairy sorry about Madame Steele's headache. Tell me, please, +vhat can I do?" + +"Nothing, thank you," I say; "there is no remedy. She is accustomed to +these attacks." + +"If nodthing does gude dthen vhy stay you efer in dthat room; you vill +be ill, too." + +"Oh, no," I say, "no fear of that." + +"But," he insists, "if you do nodthing only sit in dthat room, let me +stay vidth her and you come out in dthe air. Madame Steele ees not +like you; she like me vairy vell." + +"She likes me better, and I can't leave her." + +"Haf you no care for your healdth? You air not fit to take care of +yourself--dthat old voman in Acapulco vas right; you should nefer be +leaf alone." + +"Doesn't it ever occur to you that I might be so accustomed to +managing my own affairs that interference from an outsider might seem +strange?" + +"Outsidah!" he repeats. "I know not dthat word. I know only dthat you +American vomans haf yust one fault: you air--how you zay?--spoil vidth +too great power; you raispect no von's judgment, you need zome strong +man to rule." + +"To rule!" I echo, scornfully; "that may do for Peruvians, but our +women are neither slaves nor imbeciles." + +"No," he retorts, "but zome zay your men air a leedle of bodth!" + +"It is not to the credit of 'some'"--I set down the salt cellar hard +on the tray--"that they fail to appreciate my countrymen. They have at +least encouraged our learning to take such good care of ourselves that +no Peruvian need trouble his head about us." + +I beckon to the Chinese waiter. + +"Take this tray up to 49," and I follow him with some show of +disdain. Señor Noma meets me at the foot of the dining-room stairs. + +"I haf sent for a jar of chili-peppers for Mrs. Steele. Will you say +your friend I raicommend chili-peppers, and I advice you put a little +cayenne in the bif-tea. It makes vairy seeck without." + +"Thank you, Señor Noma," I say; "Wah-Ching will bring up the peppers +and I will tell Mrs. Steele what you say." I glance back at the +Peruvian. He is sitting by the table just as I left him, his chin in +one hand, while with the other he strokes the wavy moustache and +regards me with lowering looks. "He's a handsome creature," I think, +as I go upstairs; "but he's been told it too often, and he has +abominably mediæval ideas about women." + +All that hot afternoon I sit in the stuffy stateroom with Mrs. Steele. +The wind has veered to the other side and not a breath stirs the +curtains at our little window. About four o'clock the "Church of +England" knocks at the door. She is profuse in proffers of assistance, +and kindly tells me I am looking very badly. "You'd better go out for +a little air," she says; "you'll find my daughter and Baron de Bach +sitting in the breeze on the other side. He has teased Nellie to get +out her guitar; we've had quite a concert. What a charming, bright +companion he is!" she says, appealing to me. + +"Very, very!" I assent, with a slight yawn. + +"Do go out, Blanche, I don't need you here." Mrs. Steele looks a +little self-reproached. + +"No, dear, I know you don't care about my staying," I answer, "but I'm +a little tired of the deck." + +The "Church of England" drones on about Nellie, who is "such a child, +only seventeen; so unsophisticated and so unworldly." + +"Just imagine, she quite snubs that handsome Peruvian nobleman, and he +is really _delightful_, you know." + +We draw a simultaneous sigh of relief when the "Church of England" +leaves us to ourselves. + +"Blanche," says Mrs. Steele, "you've been fighting again with the +Baron. Those Rogers people would be only too glad to attach him to +their party. I wouldn't let them do it if I were you. It would be too +much of a feather in their cap to have distracted him from us after +his very palpable devotion and our unusual friendliness." + +"No, dear, I won't let our interpreter be wiled away from us. Leave +him to me. He's very exasperating at times, but I'll bear with him in +future; there's no denying it would be comparatively stupid without +him." + +Mrs. Steele raises the bandage from her eyes and looks at me. + +"It strikes me you are about to experience a change of heart. If it +were almost any other girl, I'd say beware!" + +I laugh with confident unconcern. + +"Oh, I don't deny I find him more interesting than I did at first. He +enrages me with his imperious self-confidence, and then charms me with +his curious, romantic ways. I look upon the Baron de Bach as a kind of +blessed invention for my entertainment on this trip, and that I've +grown to like him better than I expected makes the amusement keener, +of course. I'm tired to death of the commonplace, mild and +circumspect adorer. Baron de Bach is a continual surprise and an +occasional alarm! Nothing reprehensible!" I say, in answer to the +quick lifting of the bandage a second time. "Only he is so unlike all +the other men I have known I can't judge him by any previous standard. +I have the same interest in him Uncle John had in the new variety of +anthropoid ape in the Zoo at home. I study his possibilities, I starve +him, I feed him, I poke him, just to see what he'll do." + +"You're a wicked girl," says Mrs. Steele, slowly, "and I'm afraid a +righteous judgment will overtake you. Do you remember telling me how +that same ape tore your Uncle John's hand one day?--and _he_ was +caged." + +"Maybe the element of uncertainty accounts for some of the interest," +I say, yawning. "I believe I'll have a nap before dinner." And soon +all is quiet in stateroom 49. + +On Saturday morning, the day following, Mrs. Steele, the Baron and I +are sitting as usual under the deck awning. Baron de Bach is reading a +French story aloud to Mrs. Steele, and I, lying back in my steamer +chair, regard the reader with half-shut but attentive eyes. + +"He's only a boy," I ruminate, "a romantic, absurd, but very nice boy. +There's no reason why I shouldn't like him very much; and if he must +be in love with someone, I'm a very safe person for him to select as +the victim." I smile as the last word comes across my mind, for I am +honest enough to doubt if I really mind it so much. The Baron turns a +page and sees the look. + +"Vhy you laugh, Señorita?" + +"Thinking about something funny." + +"I'd think you laugh at me." + +"Don't you suppose I may once in a while think of someone else besides +you?" The Baron looks puzzled and a little bit offended. + +"Good-morning, Mrs. Steele," says the "Church of England," bustling up +to my friend with Mrs. Ball behind her. "How tired you look! Haven't +you had enough of that French? Baron de Bach has promised to come and +practise over the chants and hymns for to-morrow; can you spare him? +As for you," she says, turning to me, "we shall earn your eternal +gratitude if we carry off the Baron. You know her pet aversion is +having French read out loud"--she nods in a commiserating way to the +Peruvian. + +"Certainly, don't let us keep you"--Mrs. Steele with her pleasant tact +ignores the reference to me--"we will finish that charming chapter +another time." + +"Vhat means petta-vairsion?" says the Baron, looking undecided and not +exactly delighted. + +"Oh, it means favourite pastime," says Mrs. Steele. + +"Oh! oh!" giggles Mrs. Ball. "Miss Blanche said the reading made her +tired." + +The Baron shuts up the book with a snap. + +"Madame Rogair, I am at your sairvice!" + +Without looking at me he raises his cap to Mrs. Steele and follows the +"Church of England." + +"_Did_ you say the reading tired you?" asks Mrs. Steele. + +"I believe I did, or something of the kind." + +"Pity! Those people will make all they can out of it. The Baron told +me at breakfast that Mrs. Rogers had asked him to join their party at +the next port." + +"But he won't"--I open my journal to write up the previous day. + +The morning was rather dull, to tell the truth, and the sounds of +revelry that floated up from the scene of the practising below were +not too "sacred" to be irritatingly attractive. But even after +luncheon the Baron remains with the "Church of England." + +"Gone over to the enemy. I told you so," Mrs. Steele observes, as we +sit alone in our corner of the deck, while over on the opposite side +Baron de Bach stands laughing and chatting with pretty Miss Rogers. + +"Mrs. Steele," I whisper, "I believe he only does it for our +edification and because I said the reading tired me. Let us go to our +stateroom; the wind is on our side to-day." We read and sleep in +seclusion until evening. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +[Illustration: Chapter Five] + +THE BARON IS CRAZED WITH MADNESS + + +At dinner, refreshed with my long rest, I feel unusually light-hearted +and gay. I laugh and chat with Señor Noma and the rough old Captain, +till Mrs. Steele leans over and gives me a look of surprise. Not once +do the eyes of the Peruvian turn in my direction, and he leaves the +table before dessert. He is not visible on deck when we go up later +and, after talking a while to the others, I start off on a tour of +discovery. + +Down at the further end of the steamer, to windward of the smokestack, +stands the Baron in a depressed attitude smoking a pipe and looking +out to sea. + +"Oh, you're here!" I call out in friendly fashion. "I've been looking +for you. I'm sorry if I was rude about the reading"--I look as meek +and penitent as I know how. + +The Baron takes out his pipe and walks to the vessel's side, where he +knocks out the ashes. + +"Well!" I insist, "I've said I'm sorry, and in English the proper +reply to that is 'I forgive you.'" + +A curious, lingering look out of those dark eyes of his. + +"I forgif you," he says, as a child repeats a lesson. + +"And we must be friends again, _nicht wahr_?" I hold out my hand. + +"No, Señorita." He takes the hand, but shakes his head. + +"No!" I echo; "why not?" + +"Because I haf nefer been your friend. I haf always loaf you, I haf +forget vhat it vas like not to loaf you. It ees true you vere scarce +polite about dthe reading. I did not know I bore you. I feel it fery +deep. It might not matter to zome Nordthern zhentlemen, but I am dthe +most sensible man you ever know." + +"Sensible!" I say, in a tone scarcely flattering, trying to keep my +lips from twitching. + +"Yes, I am terrible sensible; a fery leedle dthing vill hurt me." + +"Well, well, I'll be _your_ friend, anyhow, and I'll try to be very +considerate. I'll show you what a good friend a North American can +be." + +"My gude friend haf make my head zo ache I dthink it vill burst." + +He pushes back his cap, and carries my hand to his forehead; it is +very hot and the temples throb under my fingers. + +"Poor fellow!" I say, hoping with might and main that no one sees. +"Shall I send you some _eau de Cologne_?" + +"No! no! If you vould gif me your hand again." + +"No," I say, "not here. Anyone who saw us would misunderstand. Come to +Mrs. Steele; she'll give you something." + +"No!" says the Peruvian. "I vill stay here; you stay, too. Ah, +Señorita, how can you be so indifferent to my loaf?" + +"I can't stay here if you talk nonsense." + +"Mein Gott! Vhat more sense can a man haf dthan to loaf you?" + +"Oh, see the porpoises!" I say abruptly. The great clumsy fish are +floundering about us in schools. + +"Vhat heafen eyes you haf, Señorita!" + +"I do believe that's 'San José Joe.'" I run to the rail. "You know! +the huge old shark all covered with barnacles the seamen tell about." + +"You vill nefer listen," says the Peruvian, plunging his hands far +down in his yachtsman's jacket. "I dthink, Señorita, ven you die, and +St. Peter meet you at dthe gate and say, 'You haf lif gude life, come +into Heaven'--you vill fery like look over your shoulder and say, 'Oh, +Peter! vhere go all dthose nice leedle devils?'" + +The Peruvian's last shot certainly diverts me from all finny +creatures, and we sit down on a pile of lumber, and the Baron shows me +his rings and seals--tells me where each came from and the story +attached. He finally pulls out of his pocket a rosary. "I haf carry +dthis efer since I was in Egypt." + +This simple little string of olive stones and carved ebony beads quite +captivates my fancy, and the penalty for the expression of my liking +is that I must try it on. He winds it about my wrist and, having +forced open one of the silver links, he bends down and with those +sharp, white teeth bites the open link close again--the blond +moustache sweeps my wrist and the rosary is securely fastened. + +"Now," I say, "see what you've done! How will you get it off?" + +"It comes not off till you are zomething less dthan my friend or +zomething more." + +"Oh, but I can't take your rosary; that's absurd!" + +"You cannot take a few leedle pieces of vood from your friend? Vhy, +dthose leedle voods are only dthe--dthe--dthe--how you say?--bones off +dthe olive." + +I laugh till I ache. "Bones of the olive!" I almost roll off the +lumber in a spasm of merriment. Mrs. Steele, who wonders at my long +absence, comes with Señor Noma to find me, and soon there are three +laughing at the poor Baron's expense. + +"Hush, Blanche, it's really too bad--you must pardon her, Baron," +says Mrs. Steele. + +"I mind it not more," says the Peruvian, with new philosophy. +"Señorita vould laugh in dthe face of St. Peter." + +When the gong sounds for service on the morning of the second Sunday +out, the Baron grumbles feelingly at the interruption. He is sketching +Mrs. Steele and me and says he "hates playing on a zo bad violin"--but +a promise is a promise, and we all go down "to church" in the close +dining-room. The Captain reads the beautiful Morning Prayers and +Litanies like a schoolboy, but the music is really admirable. Pretty +Miss Rogers appears to striking advantage. Dressed simply in white, +she plays the accompaniments and leads the singing in a sweet, true +voice. Mrs. Steele and I sit in the background, and I'm afraid I think +but little of the service. Now what perversity is in the mind of man, +I meditate, that blinds him to such real beauty and accomplishment as +Miss Rogers is blessed with? Of course, I'm not such a fool as not to +see that with all my sadly palpable defects of face and temper, the +big Peruvian finds me somehow interesting and "Miss Rogair a nice +girl, but, like a dthousand odthers I haf know, a leedle stupeed." Ah, +the "stupidity" is on the other side, I'm afraid! Miss Rogers is too +inexperienced, my thoughts run on, to disguise her liking for the +Baron, and instead of being pleased or flattered as he should be, he +will leave her at a look from me, only to get laughed at for his +pains. A strange world! I say to myself. "As it was in the beginning, +is now, and ever shall be!" sings the choir, and Miss Rogers' clear +voice lingers in the "Amen." + +As I walk the deck with the Baron that evening he tells me about his +lovely sister, "Alvida," and about Peruvian customs. + +"My sister ees dthe most beautiful voman in Peru; she haf many +suitors, but she ees nefer allow to see dthem except when dthe family +air vidth her. It ees not like your country; a man can nefer know +dthe voman he loaf till he marry her." + +"Very stupid custom," I say. "I wouldn't give a fig for such love. You +could only care for the face or the fortune of a woman so hemmed +about. What could you know of the character, of the real individual, +that after all is the only safe thing to pin one's faith to." + +"I like your customs better in zome dthings, but it makes you vomans +too clevair; you know men better dthan ve know you." + +"You have the same opportunities. It's not our fault if you don't +profit by them." + +"You tell me yourself," he goes on, unheeding, "you haf many gude +friends among your fadther's and brodthers' acquaintances; dthat make +you care so leedle for men." + +"Not a bit of it!" I laugh. "On the contrary, it has so accustomed me +to their friendship I would find life utterly unendurable without it." + +"I vill make you fery angry pairhaps, but I have deescovair you like +_me_ leedle more dthan a friend." + +"I suppose it is often flattering to a man's vanity to have a fancy +like that," I say coolly, but I am conscious of a twinge; what if I do +like him more than I want to think? + +"It ees not fancy, Señorita; you do not know yourself you care, but +you do." + +"Nonsense; I know all about it. I'm not a sentimental person and I +don't mind telling you in plain English I _like_ you. I must like you +rather more than usual, or I wouldn't see so much of you." By this +time we are away from the rest of the passengers, down by the +smokestack. "I feel as if I'd known you _for years_!" I end with a +sense of having turned the tide of sentiment by a little frank +speaking, and feel rather proud of myself. + +"Señorita," he clasps his hand over mine and speaks hurriedly, "I know +you loaf me; tell me so." + +Oddly enough, I feel no indignation, but I open my lips for a denial. + +"If you tell me not," he says excitedly, laying one hand on the rail +and looking greatly wrought-up, tragic and comical all at once, "if +you tell me not," he repeats, raising his voice, "I yump in dthe +vater." + +I tighten my hold on his arm, trying not to let him see how much I +want to laugh. + +"Of course, one loves one's friends; don't be silly." + +A quick light leaps into the dark eyes. I am reproached and vaguely +uneasy at the sight of his gladness. + +"I'm going back to Mrs. Steele; she doesn't like me to leave her so +long." I turn away and like a flash he is at my side. He draws my +hand through his arm, holding it against his heart. I can feel the +great leaps under the yachtman's gay jacket. + +"Ah!" sighs the wearer, "I feel suffocate on dthis boat--it ees so +small, people eferywhere and you and I so leedle alone. Ah, ve vill +soon be at San José!" + +"I don't see how that will mend matters." I am anxious to see what he +has in mind. + +"Madame Steele vant to go to Guatemala." + +"Yes, but so do most of the other passengers." + +"From San José to Guatemala ees seventy mile, and dthe Paris of +Central America ees zomething more large dthan dthis _San Miguel_. +Much can happen before ve come back." + +We join Mrs. Steele and talk over our plan. + +The next day we arrive at Champerico, but no one goes ashore; we stay +so short a time. + +The deck party breaks up early that night, everyone anxious to be +ready for the six o'clock breakfast call next morning. + +"To-morrow ve air at San José de Guatemala, and much can happen before +ve see _San Miguel_ again." The Baron takes my hand at the saloon door +as I say good-night. + +"That's the second time you've made that ominous remark, Baron de +Bach. What do you mean?" + +"Baron de Bach!" he echoes. "My name ees 'Guillermo,' Blanca." + +Somehow it doesn't seem so familiar or significant as if he said +"Blanche." + +"What do you think will happen to us in Guatemala, Guillermo?" + +"Blanca vill see;" he lifts the hand with the rosary falling about it +to his lips and kisses the crucifix. + +"Good-night, Guillermo." + +"Good-night, Blanca." + +By half-past seven the next morning all who purpose going ashore are +standing on the lower deck of the _San Miguel_, wondering how they are +to get from the steamer to the clumsy "lighter" or freight boat that +the great breakers are tossing about below, and which is reported to +be our sole means of making the shore. + +"The passengers are hauled up and down in a big barrel," says the +Captain, who has come from the bridge to receive some official from +the settlement. "You're not going ashore, Mrs. Steele!" He fixes a +look of astonishment on my friend in her travelling dress. + +"Of course I am." + +"Why, there's nothing to see but huts and sand-piles." + +"Ve go to Guatemala," says the Baron, giving our wraps to the Chinese +porter. + +"You do nothing of the kind." The brusque Captain is nothing if not +unceremonious. "We'll have this Hamburg cargo loaded in a day, and +you can't go and get back in time; and I won't wait--I won't wait a +second for anyone mad enough to go to Guatemala! You'll have to give +it up," he says to Mrs. Steele. + +There is a chorus of disappointment from the assembled crowd, but Mrs. +Steele, with evident reluctance, says: + +"Of course, it would never do to be left behind; there's yellow fever +in all these ports, I'm told." + +"Place is full of it--stay on the ship like sensible people. There's +nothing worth seeing in Guatemala. I hate to be bothered with +passengers going off--" and the Captain walks to the railing to wave +his hand with stiff pomposity to a Mexican who sits in the lighter. + +"You air meestake, Captain," says the Baron de Bach; "all dthose +vorkmen say it vill be two days loading dthis café." + +The Captain, never very good-tempered at the best of times, is +especially peppery to-day. + +"Are you runnin' this ship, young man, or am I?" He seems to think he +has made a forcible and irrefutable rejoinder and turns away like one +who has settled something forever. + +"I vill spik vidth you inside." The Baron sets down his small valise +and follows the apparently unheeding Captain into the saloon. We +stand undecided, looking down at the lighter shifting about in the +breakers, and watching a stout Mexican get into a huge barrel that has +one side cut down and a seat fitted in--a rope with huge iron hook +attached is lowered from a pulley on the steamer, and the barrel full +of San José official is lifted into the air. The barrel twirls about, +the official puts his hand to his eyes, and in a moment he is landed +like a mammoth fish on the deck of the _San Miguel_. + +We hear the voices in the saloon rising with anger. Mrs. Steele looks +apprehensive and makes a step towards the door. Out strides the Baron, +looking hot and excited. + +"Ladies, ve vill go. I promise you ve vill be back in time." + +Already the crowd is lessened and some have given up going even to San +José, and several have made the trip in the barrel and are safely +landed in the lighter. + +"I think we won't run any risk," says Mrs. Steele gently, "though we +can go to San José, of course." + +"Madame, I do assure you," and the Baron is most emphatic, "if you +vill trust to go vidth me I see dthat you come safe back before _San +Miguel_ sails." + +The second mate comes up with an amused look. + +"You ladies jest go 'long; th' Cap'n's alwus like that; nobuddy +minds. We can't get away under two days, and he knows it. We ain't +'lowed to leave under forty-eight hours on 'count o' passengers from +the coast." + +That settles it, and each in turn we go spinning down in the barrel +and sit on piles of freight in the unsteady lighter. The Mexican +oarsmen stand up and propel the boat through the surf with long oars. +It is rougher than it looks, and I suffer my first touch of +sea-sickness. We understand why we are anchored so far away, and why +the huge iron pier running out from San José extends such a distance +seawards. I am quite faint and miserable when we reach the landing. +The Baron is still so consumed with rage at the Captain's +"interference," he has no eyes, happily, for my pitiable condition. I +look about disconsolately for the barrel elevator, for the pier is far +above our heads, and the great waves are dashing us against its iron +side. To Mrs. Steele's horror, we perceive a sort of iron cage is +employed in the process of elevation at this end of the journey, and +soon we three are swinging in mid-air between the angry waves and the +iron pier. + +"Oh!" I say, breathlessly, clutching at Mrs. Steele, "what _would_ +Uncle John say if he could see me now?" + +"He would probably advise you to follow his example and make your +observations from the _outside_ of the cage." + +I've observed that Mrs. Steele is sometimes lacking in sympathy at +trying moments. + +At last we are landed, and at the end of the long pier we find a +narrow-gauge train--strange, primitive little cars and very dirty +withal. We make ourselves as comfortable as possible--opening the +windows and each one occupying a double seat, for the carriage is only +half full. + +"It's not more than seventy miles, I believe," says Mrs. Steele, "but +it takes five hours to get there; it's an up-hill grade all the way." + +"Five hours!" I repeat, dismayed. "Oh, why did no one tell me that +before? I had scarcely a mouthful of breakfast." + +"We haf another breakfast at Escuintla, mees, a gude one," says Señor +Noma, passing through our coach to the smoking-car. I am consoled and +full of interest at the prospect, as the dingy little train moves off. +Mrs. Steele and I are facing each other, while the Baron sits behind +me and points out the most noteworthy features of this notable +expedition. We are in the tropics truly; the heat is overpowering, and +the Baron leans over the back of my seat with my rough Mazatlan fan, +and uses it with a generous devotion that tires him and does not cool +me. + +"Do fan yourself a little," I say. "You've been the colour of a +lobster ever since your interview with the Captain." + +The Peruvian's brows contract--he looks ferocious in the extreme--and +I am a little sorry I mentioned the Captain. + +"Dthat Capitan ees von fool! He know not how to treat a zhentleman. I +tell him I make a procès to dthe company and get him reprimand for how +he spik to me." + +"Why, what did he say?" asks Mrs. Steele. + +"He tell me I act like _I_ vas Capitan, dthen he call me 'damn.' I +tell him he vas a coachman!" + +The Baron looks surprised and a bit resentful at our laughter. + +"What made you call him a coachman?" Mrs. Steele is the first, as +usual, to pull a straight face. + +"Madame forget I know not all Eenglish vords. I could dthink of +nodthing more vorse--I vas zo crazy vidth madness." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +[Illustration: Chapter Six] + +THE BARANCA + + +"See the banana plantations! Oh, those date-palms!" Mrs. Steele leans +out of her window, full of delight at the curious panorama moving +past. + +"Mrs. Steele!" I bend over and take her hand. "I hope all this will +never grow dim. I want to remember it all my life." + +"You will, dear." She turns away absorbed, eager to lose nothing of +this new phase of Nature. + +"Haf no fear--you vill not forget--Blanca." + +The low voice over my shoulder is an interruption; to enjoy the gift +of sight is all-sufficient for a time. With happy disregard of the man +at my back, I take in the changeful, fantastic vision. + +The adobe houses standing in orange groves, the long stretches of +jungle, wild tangles of rank growth, cactus, giant ferns, brake and +netted vines; birds of gorgeous plumage and discordant note, +alligators basking on the sunny bank of a sluggish stream, +half-dressed natives at work in coffee fincas, sugar-cane and cotton +fields; nude children standing in the doorways of palm-thatched huts, +staring with still and stupid wonder at the train, and looking like +inanimate clay models of a fairer, finer race to come. It is all like +a curious dream from which we waken at Escuintla to take our eleven +o'clock breakfast. This place has been partially destroyed by +earthquake, and Mrs. Steele urges despatch with breakfast that we may +see what is left. A very tolerable meal is served in the wide, open +veranda of the station. + +"What a nice little spoon!" Mrs. Steele remarks, as we sit down, +noticing one of tortoise shell quaintly carved. + +"You like it?" is all the Baron says, and coolly puts it in his +pocket. Mrs. Steele is aghast. "I pay dthem," he says unconcernedly. +"Haf leedle salade?" + +I have finished first and go out to the platform. Groups of natives +are gathered about, carrying on their heads round shallow baskets like +trays displaying fruit, eggs and _water_ for sale. These people seem +very different from the Mexican Indians. They are blacker, their faces +are more flat and stupid, and the women's dress is a straight piece of +gay cotton cloth wound round the lower half of the body and secured at +the waist with a scarf tied over. The only other encumbrance is a thin +white cotton sacque, short and loose. The women immediately attack me +with vociferous gibberish, offering me their wares. Mrs. Steele sends +the Baron out to look after me, and when he has bought a basket full +of pineapples, sappadillos, mangoes and grenadillas, he proposes a +little walk up the road. We have twenty minutes yet, he says, and Mrs. +Steele is stopping to buy some grass baskets and fans. We walk up the +dusty little highway, and the burning sun beats down strong and hot in +our unaccustomed faces. + +"How can people endure it?" I marvel, wiping away great drops of +moisture. + +"See dthat big house all come down? Dthat ees eardthquake," explains +my escort. + +"How dreadful! Look at the thatch roofs of those queer little huts--it +makes me think of peaked Robinson Crusoe hats. Just see how they're +pulled far down over the sun-burnt wall as if to shade their eyes from +the scorching sun." + +"Robeen Crusa?" The Baron looks puzzled. "I know not dthat kind of +hat. Ees it like vhat you tell me about vhen I first see you--dthat +'Robeen Hood'?" + +I stand still in the quiet street and wake a far-off echo with my +laughter. The Peruvian gets red in the face and begins to look +offended. + +"Please don't mind me; I think you've said something a little +'komisch'--but perhaps I've got a sunstroke and it acts like laughing +gas. Don't be cross, Guillermo." I take his arm and notice covertly +that he is mollified. + +"Blanca," he says, with a half smile, "dthat adobe house vidth vines +look cool--suppose I buy dthat and ve stay here leedle vhile." + +I follow his eyes. + +"That mansion would hardly hold our party; it doesn't look as if it +boasted more than two rooms." + +"Dthat vould be enough. Madame Steele vish much to see Guatemala; she +go on and ve miss dthat train." + +"Brilliant scheme!" I admit, "but----" A shrill blast cuts through +the air. "Heavens and earth! that's the whistle!" + +Like one possessed I tear down the road with never a glance behind--it +seems miles to the station, and as I come near I see the train is +moving. I make a rush for the rear platform. Voices behind scream +reproof and warning, but I never look back; I grasp the iron railing +and am whisked off my feet by the motion. With a desperate wrench I +pull myself up the steps and steady my trembling body against the door +of the baggage car. I look in. It's locked, and no one is there. +"Stupid idiot!" I mutter. "That mooning Baron hasn't the smallest +grain of sense--saying we had twenty minutes! Well, _he's_ left +anyhow--serves him right!" And then I cool down and reflect that going +to Guatemala without the Baron may not be so amusing. I shake the door +of the car, but no one hears, and I notice the train is slowing. "Mrs. +Steele thinks I'm left and has made them come back--well, I'm not +sorry, for now we'll get that stupid Baron again. Yes, just as I +thought----" as we begin to move back to Escuintla--"there's the +vine-covered hut that idiotic person proposed buying--here's the +station and ... who's that?" Before my astonished eyes stand Mrs. +Steele and the Baron de Bach, looking anxiously for the advancing +train. As it stops they run forward. + +"My dear, don't you ever do such a foolhardy thing again," begins Mrs. +Steele, severely. + +"If I had known vhat you vould do, I vould haf hold you till----" + +"The train doesn't go for ten minutes," Mrs. Steele interrupts; "it +was only shifting to another track. You might have known the Baron +would watch the time." + +Mrs. Steele looks weak with apprehension--it is only when she has been +alarmed that I realise how delicate she is. + +"I'm so sorry you were frightened," I say, feeling too utterly reduced +to rebuff the Baron for lifting me down from the platform as he would +have taken a child. + +"Come," says Mrs. Steele, "we will get our old places." + +An Indian woman comes to the window after we are seated and offers a +paraquito for sale. The Baron buys it and shows me how to hold it on +my fan and let it take a piece of sappadilla from my teeth. This +performance somewhat restores my spirits, and the incident of catching +the wrong train at the risk of life and limb fades before the crowding +interests of an eventful day. It seems hotter and closer in the +cramped little car. Mrs. Steele grows faint. + +"Come in dthe air." The Baron and I support her to the door. She +recovers a little and the Peruvian returns for his valise. He brings +out a silver travelling flask and sprinkles a white silk handkerchief +with delicious _eau de Cologne_ and gives it to Mrs. Steele. I can see +it refreshes her, and I throw the Peruvian a grateful glance for his +thoughtfulness. From the platform we have a far finer view of the +country. The rugged wilderness of the Cordilleras hems us in on every +side. + +"Dthose air yust the zame mountains I look on from my home in Peru; it +ees von chain from Tierra del Fuego to Mexico," and a look of welcome +comes into the handsome face. "It ees four years since I zee dthose +Cordilleras. I am glad I am near dthem vonce more. _Ah!_" he exclaims, +as we break through the close circle of the mountains, and, coming out +on a wide plateau, a shining sheet of water bursts on our delighted +vision. "Lake Amatitlan!" + +The world up here is wild and silent; one feels a breathless sense of +discovery and is vaguely glad there is no trace of man. No canoe rises +the waves save the grey feather-boat of the wild duck, and the +majestic circling hawk is the only fisherman. + +"It was like this when Cortes saw it!" I say. + +"It was like this when God made it!" says Mrs. Steele, under her +breath. + +The train stops by the lake and we gather wild Lantana and many a new +flower during the few minutes' stay. I rush into a thicket after a red +lily, and come out a mass of thorns and Spanish needles. When the +train starts Mrs. Steele is tired, and goes inside to rest, but the +Baron and I still stay on the platform. He sits on the top step and +laboriously picks the needles off my dress. + +"You zee dthat smoke, Blanca? Dthat ees a volcano." + +"Oh, how delightful! but there's no fire!" + +"No, not at present!" + +"It's very disappointing," I say, "and the geography pictures are all +wrong. They show a great burst of smoke and flame, and huge rocks +shooting up out of the crater. I supposed a volcano was a sort of +perpetual 'Fourth of July.'" + +"Fourdth of Yuly! how mean you?" + +"Oh, fireworks and explosions! but that little white funnel of +steam--well, it's a disappointment!" + +"You vill zee dthree volcano near Guatemala; dthey air dthe 'spirits' +of dthe place--call in Eenglish 'Air,' 'Fire' and 'Vater.' Zee on +dthis leedle coin dthey haf all dthree mountains on dthe back." + +"Why, what's the matter with your hands?" I say, taking the coin. + +"All dthose burrs on your dress make bleed," he says, looking a bit +ruefully at his finger-tips, sore and red, and one stained a little +where some obstinate briar or needle has drawn the blood. + +"Oh! what a shame!" I take the shapely hand in mine and look +compassionately at the hurt fingers. + +"I feel it not, Blanca, vhen you hold it so!" + +I drop the hand, instinctively steeling myself against all show of +sympathy with this boyish sentimentalism. + +"It should teach you a lesson. You take too much care of your hands; +they are whiter and softer than most women's--such hands are good for +nothing." + +"I vill show you you can be meestake." His face is quite changed, and +there's something dimly threatening in the deep eyes. + +"When will you show me?" I say, affecting a carelessness I do not +quite feel. + +"Perhaps in Guatemala." I leave that side of the platform and lean out +over the other. "Come back, Blanca; it ees not zafe!" + +His tone is entirely too dictatorial. I close my hand firmly round the +iron rail and lean out further still. At that instant, as ill-luck +would have it, the train encounters some obstruction on the track, +something is struck, and there is a jolt and concussion. Before I +have time to recover myself I feel my hand wrested from the iron, and +a powerful arm is closed around me, but instead of being drawn back, I +am held out in the very position I myself had taken. Bewildered and +frightened, I give one scream "on account" and turn my head with an +endeavour to grasp the horrible situation. The Peruvian is holding to +the rail with one hand and has me grasped under one arm as an +inconsiderate child holds a kitten. + +"Let me go!" + +"I ask you before dthat you lean not out--but if you vill, I must zee +dthat you fall not." + +"I tell you I'll come back, let me go!" and I glance out +shudderingly. We have passed over the obstruction, whatever it was, +and are running along the side of a steep descent. + +"I am sorry you dthink my hands zo weak, for if dthey fail ve bodth go +down." + +"Oh, please, please!" I gasp. + +"Now ve come to a baranca. I am curious to zee vill you like a +'baranca.'" + +The wretch speaks as calmly as if we sat in a Pullman car. Through all +my fright and indignation I wonder what on earth's a "baranca"--and +forget to scream. + +"Now, Señorita, if I hold you not zo far out as you like, tell me." + +I look down, and under my very eyes the solid ground ends, my +horrified vision drops hundreds of feet to the bottom of a mighty gash +in Cordilleras' flank, and for one sick instant I shut my eyes. + +"How like you a baranca?" + +Is it the wind jeering after me as I drop down, down, down? With a +supreme effort I turn to see if that face is behind me, and behold! +the Peruvian calmly meets my eyes with actually a smile on his lips. +He is still holding me jauntily over the platform steps, and it was +only my giddy fancy that fell so far. + +We have passed the gorge, and, looking back, I see the "narrow-gauge" +track lying across the chasm like a herring-bone over a hole. + +"Ve haf more barancas if you like dthem." + +"Oh, Guillermo," I say, "please let me go in!" + +"Not for my sake! I can hold you here von hour vidth dthese +'gude-for-nodthing' hands." + +"Oh, I don't doubt it; you're the strongest man I ever knew, but I +don't like barancas. Please, _please_, Guillermo!" + +He draws me back on the platform, and without asking my pardon or +looking the least bit penitent, he opens the door for me to go inside. + +Mrs. Steele looks away from her window as we take our former seats. + +"How deliciously cool it's grown," she says. "What makes you so +white, Blanche?" + +"Vas it not for dthat she ees call Blanca?" + +"What is it, child? Are you faint?" + +"Yes, a little," I answer, wondering whether I had better tell how +that Peruvian monster has been behaving. + +"That's strange! It's quite unlike you to be faint. Baron, will you +mix a little of this brandy with some water? That will make her feel +better." + +Again he takes out his traveller's cup of silver. Calling the negro +conductor, he tells him to bring some "agua." + +"He's afraid to leave us," I think indignantly; "he doesn't want me to +tell Mrs. Steele." + +"Did you notice that great cleft in the mountain we went over?" asks +the latter, fanning me gently. + +"Yes, dthat ees call 'baranca.' Señorita seem not to like it." + +"Neither would Mrs. Steele if she had----" + +"She nefer vould! Madame Steele ees a too vise voman. Vhat you dthink, +Madame? Señorita inseest to lean out far ofer dthose steps; I beg her +not, but----" he ends with a modest gesture of incompetence. + +"And you," I begin, with a sudden determination to unmask his +villainy, "you rushed over and----" + +"And hold you zo dthat you fall not. Madame Steele, desairve I not +dthanks?" + +"Ah! yes, Baron. You are certainly very kind and watchful; but, +Blanche, if you don't care for yourself, you ought to consider other +people. It's a terrible responsibility to travel with such a foolhardy +person. I can't say I'm sorry if you've been a little frightened. Take +the brandy, dear." + +My good friend is never severe long. The Baron holds the silver cup to +my lips, and I shut out the sight of him--with closed eyes I drink the +mixture obediently. + +I lean my head against the window, and the voices of my friend and the +Baron grow less and less distinct. The next thing I know Mrs. Steele +is saying, "Is that Guatemala?" I rouse myself and look out. A white +city on a wide plateau. Is this the "Paris of Central America," with +its 70,000 inhabitants? Mrs. Steele is met in the dépot by some +friends, Californians, who live here part of the year. We promise to +dine with them, and the Baron comes back from his search for a +carriage, saying one will be here presently. + +"Vhile Madame Steele talks vidth her friends, vill you come zee dthe +Trocadero, vhere dthey haf bull-fights?" + +"No, thank you." + +"Oh, I dthought you vould like." + +"Where is it?" + +"Yust ofer dthere, dthree steps--dthat round house." + +"I'd better see it perhaps while I have time," I think, and I walk +towards the circular building indicated. Baron de Bach keeps at my +side. He tries the door--shakes it--but it is evidently locked; he +leans down and looks through the keyhole. + +"Oh, you can zee qvite vell dthrough here." + +I put my eye to the little opening and can dimly descry an open arena +with seats in tiers opposite. + +"Dthey zay dthey haf a bull-fight Dthursday"--the Baron is reading +the Spanish bill posted at the door. "Ve had better stay and let you +zee." + +"There's the carriage!" I exclaim, and we hurry back, take leave of +Mrs. Steele's friends and drive over roughly cobbled streets to the +Gran Hotel. Our rooms are secured to us in three languages by the +Baron; he scolds the proprietor for delays in German, conciliates the +wife in French, and gives orders to the servant of this polyglot +establishment in Spanish. Finally we are stowed in rooms opening on +the wide veranda that encloses the patio. A hasty toilet and we meet +the Baron in the vestibule downstairs. We wander about the crooked +streets from shop to shop, getting at a jeweller's some ancient +coins, unalloyed gold and silver rudely stamped and cut out in +irregular shapes, the only currency when Central America was a Spanish +province. We are longest in the great market, buying curious pottery +from the Indians--calabash cups, brilliant serapes of native weaving +and lovely silk rebosas. We order a variety of fans--one kind is of +braided palm with clumsy handle ending in a rude brush. An Indian girl +shows me how the fan is used to make the fire burn more brightly, and +the brush to sweep the hearth. From market into the main Plaza, and +then to the cool shelter of the Cathedral, brings our short afternoon +to an end; we must hurry back to our dinner appointment. The Baron +grumbles vigorously when he discovers he was included in the +invitation, and that Mrs. Steele promised to bring him. + +"Really, he hasn't seemed like himself all this afternoon," says Mrs. +Steele, when we are once more in our rooms, which conveniently adjoin. + +"No, he can be conspicuously disagreeable when he likes." I have in +mind the "baranca" episode. + +"What do you suppose makes him so absent-minded and constrained, +Blanche?" + +"Simple perversity, very likely." I stand in the communicating +doorway, brushing a jacket. I am conscious that Mrs. Steele pauses in +her toilet and looks keenly in my direction. + +"I still like the Baron extremely, but I'm glad to see you are not so +unsophisticated or so unpractical as to be captivated by a pair of +fine eyes and a melodious voice. I was once uncomplimentary enough to +be afraid of the effect of such close intercourse for both of you. You +two are cut out to make each other happy for a few weeks, and +miserable for a lifetime. You should both be thankful that your +acquaintance is to be counted by pleasant days and ended before the +regretful years begin." + +"Really, I don't know what put all that in your head!" + +"Observation, my dear! In spite of the velvet cloak of courtesy, our +Peruvian is a born tyrant, and you--forgive me--but you know you're +the very child of caprice. I am most thankful, however, that you are +not impressionable. Otherwise this experience might leave a bitter +taste in your mouth." + +"You seem content with _my_ escape. You don't feel any concern that +the Baron may lack the valuable qualities you think are my safeguard? +Suppose, just for argument's sake, he should say I had----?" + +"Broken his heart? Ah, my dear, he has probably said that to a dozen. +It's a tough article, the masculine heart, and the kind of women who +strain it most are----" + +"Bewildering beauties, such as _you_ were at twenty! And I may rest in +my defects with an easy conscience. Thank you!" + +"That was not what I was going to say." + +In my heart I knew it was what she was thinking. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +[Illustration: Chapter Seven] + +THE INCA EYE + + +Mr. and Mrs. Dalton give us a beautiful Spanish-French dinner in a +private room of the Gran Hotel where they live. Mrs. Dalton is +palpably delighted with the Baron de Bach. He is unusually reserved, +but gravity sits well on him, and, as I see him crossing swords with +this clever woman of the world, I find my admiration growing. He seems +not to see me all through dinner, and, like the stupid young person I +am, I fall to regretting that by the side of our brilliant, travelled +hostess I must seem provincial and dull. I am not sorry when, shortly +after dinner, Mrs. Steele, regretting we have to leave so early the +following day, remembers a friend she must see that night, and we take +our leave. + +"Señorita look fery tire--she better stay in dthe hotel. I vill escort +you, Madame, vidth plaisir." + +We stop a moment on the stairs. + +"Oh, no! I especially want Blanche to see the interior of a handsome +native house. You're not too tired, are you, dear?" + +"No," I say, "I'll go." + +"She vould zay dthat if she die. You stay here, Señorita; Madame +Steele be not long." + +The idea flits across my mind he has some reason of his own for not +wanting me to go; but I've no notion of being left alone. + +"No, I'll go with you, Mrs. Steele." + +"After I escort Madame, I go to dthe photographic gallery; I buy you +all dthose pictures ve haf not time to get dthis afternoon. I send +dthem to your room; you vill not be lonely." + +"Oh, why can't we all go to the gallery? I do so want a collection of +views. I want nothing else so much!" I plead. + +It ends by our driving to Casa 47, in a wide street opposite the +public gardens. The Baron dismisses the coachman, telling him to come +back in a couple of hours, and I drop the iron knocker on the massive +door. A native servant draws the bolts, and our interpreter asks for +"Señora Baldwin." We follow the picturesque little maid through a +tiled vestibule into a starlight patio. The usual ground veranda +encloses this fragrant court, the various rooms opening on it. + +We are ushered into one brilliantly lit and luxuriously furnished, and +the hostess and her sister make us welcome. The French consul is there +with his secretary, and the conversation is mostly in their tongue. +Mrs. Baldwin shows us an album of enchanting views of Guatemala and +the abandoned city of Antigua, so beautifully situated and so +earthquake-cursed. + +"More than ever," says Mrs. Steele, "I regret we did not omit +something else, and take time to get photographs." + +"It's not too late," our hostess says. + +"Oh, no," the Baron interposes. "I go now to get dthem. I vas +dthinking if Madame vould like Señorita to choose them." + +"No; Blanche does seem a little tired. I couldn't let her go. I think +we must trust your taste, Baron; I can hardly spare the time and +strength for any more exploring tonight." + +"No, indeed, you mustn't go," says Mrs. Baldwin. "I've some wonderful +antiquities from a buried Aztec city to show you. When you finish +those views"--she glances at me--"you'll find us in the next room. I +won't say good-bye to you, Baron; of course, you'll be back. Come, +Mrs. Steele"--and they go into an adjoining room. + +"If you air not too tire, Señorita, you better come to dthe gallery +and choose dthe pictures. Dthe Consul say it ees near here." + +"Oh, really? Yes, I'll go; I know just the ones Mrs. Steele wants. You +will tell her where we've gone, won't you?--we won't be long," I say +to Mrs. Baldwin's young sister, who is chattering French to the +consul. + +"Yes," she answers. "It's my opinion you won't find the gallery open +so late as this; but, of course, you can try." + +"Oh, I hope it won't be shut. Good-bye." + +"Good-bye." + +The small servant nodding on the veranda takes us past the palm-shaded +_patio_, and through the dark vestibule. + +"_Gracias!_" I say to the dusky little servitor as the huge door +opens. + +"_Si! Si!_ Dthousand thanks," mutters the Baron as the bolts fall +behind us, and we are out in the moonlit street. He draws my hand +through his arm. + +"What makes your heart beat so?" I say. + +"Come on the right side;" he changes me quickly to the other arm, and +I laugh at my acuteness, little dreaming what the Baron's +well-disguised excitement foreboded. We turn down a narrow, +ill-lighted street. + +"What a lovely night! It makes one feel strangely, doesn't it, to be +out after dark in a foreign city that no one you know has ever +visited, and that seemed in geography days as far off as the moon?" I +get no answer to my small observations, and we walk on. "The gallery +isn't as near as I thought." + +"It ees not far, Blanca; you air fery lofely in dthe moonlight." + +"I'm glad to know what is required to make me lovely." + +"You air alvays 'wonderschön' to me--but you look too clevair +zometimes in dthe day. In dthis moonlight you look so gentle--like a +leedle child. Blanca, zay again you loaf me." + +He holds my hand close and bends down until I feel his hot breath on +my cheek. + +"I can't say _again_ what I never said once." + +I begin to walk faster. + +"Ve air not _abord du San Miguel_; no von see, no von hear. I know in +my heart you loaf me; tell me so vonce! Blanca!" The music and +entreaty in the deep voice thrill me strangely. "Oh, Blanca darling, +keess me!" My puny resistance is nothing to those athlete's arms; he +holds me close one instant and I, breathless, struggle to free my +hands, and push his hot cheek away from mine. + +"How dare you; you are no gentleman!" + +"No, I am a loaver, Blanca, not von cold Nordthern zhentleman, who haf +so leedle heart it can be hush, and zo dthin, poor blood it nefer rush +fire at a voman's touch. Blanca, I haf been still for days, vaiting +for dthis hour. I loaf you, darling, till all my life is nodthing but +von longing--I loaf you till I haf no conscience, no _religion_ but my +loaf. No, you shall not spik now! Blanca, you must marry me, _here_ in +Guatemala. You and I go not back to _San Miguel_ unless you air my +vife." + +"Baron!" + +"Hush! Spik not so loud, and if you vill not make me mad call me not +Baron." + +An awful sense of loneliness chokes me. The streets of that buried +Aztec city are not more silent than this one in Guatemala. + +"Guillermo, listen! I have no friend here but you; you must take me +back to Mrs. Steele. Come!" + +"How vell you know men! But not _me_, Blanca--not a Peruvian. I know +it ees better for you, as vell as for myself, dthat you marry me. You +haf nefer been so gentle and so gude as since I hold you near dthat +baranca. But you did not like it! You loaf me, but you air like a vild +deer; you air so easy startle, and so hard to hold. But I vill be zo +gude to Blanca, I vill make her glad I vas so strong not to let her +haf her own way. If you keess me and zay before God you marry me, I +take you back to Casa 47--if not, Madame Steele go alone to _San +Miguel_." + +[Illustration: "YOU MUST TAKE ME BACK!"--_Page 210_] + +"Baron de Bach, you're talking crazy nonsense. You don't frighten +me, but you _do_ disgust me. You think to get some Peruvian amusement +out of frightening a woman; well, you had better go to a bull-fight. I +detest you! Let me go or I'll cry out!" + +He puts one hand over my mouth and holds me as in a vise. + +"Dthank you, Blanca! You gif me courage. I haf tell you how a Peruvian +loaf; I vill tell you how he plan. In dthe bay off Panama ees my +yacht. I vill keep you in Guatemala vhile I send for her, and dthen ve +go to Peru, to Ceylon--anyvhere you like but America. I write Madame +Steele you air my vife, and she vill soon zee ve air not to be find; +she vill go back to New York. It ees no use dthat you cry out, no von +hear, or if von do, you spik no Spanish, and I haf my pistol if any +interfere. I tell you so much dthat you make no meestake. Ve air not +far from dthe house of two old friends of me. Dthey vill take care off +you, till my yacht come; you need not fear me, Señorita." He loosens +his grasp for an instant, and the dark street seems to whirl. I would +have fallen if he had not caught me. I hear, as one dreaming, the +caressing words of Spanish--I scarcely feel the hot kisses. + +"I'm all alone," I think, looking down the silent street to a far-off +lamp, and then up to the brilliant sky, but even that seems strange, +for instead of my old friends in heaven, the Southern Cross shines +cold and far above me. + +"Guillermo," I say, steadying myself against his arm, "you would make +a terrible mistake. You don't understand Northern women. You say you +love me, and in the next breath you plan to ruin my whole life. I +would make you more misery than ever a man endured, and I should hate +you bitterly and without end." + +"It ees no use dthat you zay such dthings." + +"Guillermo, don't let your love be such a curse to me." + +"A curse----" + +"Yes. If any other man had roughly treated me, had abused my +confidence, and, finding me defenceless, had forgotten what all brave +men owe to women--what would you do to such a man?" + +The Peruvian puts his hand before his eyes. + +"I listen not to anydthing you zay." + +"Yes, you will. You know you would half kill the man who would strike +a woman. Some half-mad man has done worse than strike me, Guillermo, +and his name is Guillermo de Bach. You are so strong, and you say you +love me; will you take my part against this man?" + +The moon comes out of a cloud, and shows me a white face above my +own, drawn tense with emotion. "It ees all settle, Blanca; I go not +back." + +"Oh, God! what shall I do! What kind of man are you? You complain that +my countrymen are cold and deliberate; do you know why we love them? +They know how to keep faith, but _you_ not twenty-four hours." + +"Vhat mean you?" His voice is husky and sounds strange. + +"You promised in the _San Miguel_ this morning, if we trusted you +enough to come with you to Guatemala, you would see that the _San +Miguel_ did not sail without us. Guillermo!"--with an inspiration I +draw the white face down to mine--"forgive me for doubting you; you +will keep your word," and I kiss him between the pain-contracted +brows. + +"Oh, Blanca, Blanca, you vill kill me!" + +Is it a tear that drops on my face? I put my arm in his and draw him +up the dark street, whispering some incoherent prayer. + +"Blanca, I _cannot_! I am not a man dthat I gif you up!" + +We have turned into the broad avenue and an occasional pedestrian +passes by. The Baron seems to see nothing. + +"You are not a man when you break your word. Come, Guillermo!" + +We are back at last before the great door; I lift a hand trembling +with excitement to raise the iron knocker. The Baron stops me. + +"I am von fool, Blanca! Like your countrymen, I let you rule. But vhen +you forget all else off me, remembair you haf find von Peruvian who +loaf you so he let you ruin hees life--you vill nefer see anodther +such Peruvian madman. If I haf trouble you, I haf not spare myself, +keess me gude-night, Blanca ... and good-bye." + +A moment later the great knocker had fallen. + +Mrs. Steele and Mrs. Baldwin are waiting for us in the star-lit +_patio_. My friend is evidently displeased at my having gone out +without consulting her. I feel with sharp self-condemnation that in +agreeing to go I was not only rash, but seemed even worse; it looked +as if I had courted a _tête-à-tête_ alone at night with the Baron. Ah, +why can't we see things in the present as we shall be obliged to see +them when the time is past and the mistake beyond recall! + +"Well, I suppose you've ordered an album full of views," says Mrs. +Baldwin, pleasantly trying to cover up the awkwardness of our return. + +"No," I answer, taken unawares, for by this time I have quite +forgotten the object of my errand. "We found the gallery farther away +than I expected, and----" + +"Vhen ve get dthere it vas close," says the Baron in a calm, +well-controlled voice. The carriage is announced, and we bid Mrs. +Baldwin good-bye. The drive home is very quiet, and we say good-night +to the Baron in the vestibule. + +Mrs. Steele oddly enough asks me no questions, and I know her +disapproval must be strong. I think little about that, however--I am +going over and over that sharp conflict in the dim, deserted street. +Did it really happen or did I dream it! This is the nineteenth century +and I am a plain American girl to whom nothing remarkable ever +happened before, and yet it _was_ true! How was I to blame for +it--what will the Baron do--how long will he remember? My last waking +sensation is a weary surprise to find my pillow wet with tears. + +Mrs. Steele rouses me the next morning, holding an open letter in her +hand: + +"Blanche! Blanche! Wake up! We've overslept and lost our train. Here's +a note the Baron's just sent up. The servant has neglected to call him +as well, and he thinks we could not by any exertion catch the train we +intended. He has ascertained that a 'special' leaving Guatemala two +hours after regular train time will reach San José an hour at least +before the steamer can possibly sail. He has engaged this 'special' +and will see us safely on board at ten o'clock. He begs I will excuse +his absence at breakfast, as he has already been served, and remains +with assurances of his profound regard, my obedient servant, Federico +Guillermo de Bach! So there's no time to be lost!" + +My friend returns to her room to dress; I sit bolt upright in bed +staring straight before me at the great shaft of yellow sunlight that +lies across the floor. "You and I go not back to _San Miguel_ unless +you air my vife." Was it a curious dream or had he said those words? + +"Are you hurrying, Blanche?" calls Mrs. Steele. "It won't do to miss +our last train unless you've decided you would like to stay in +Guatemala." + +I fly out of bed and begin to rush into my clothes. Mrs. Steele's +voice has a touch of sarcasm in it that reminds me she may still be +dissatisfied and suspicious about last night. "She mustn't think +there's been any scene," I admonish myself; "she would say it was +entirely my fault, and she will lose all confidence in me. No! Mrs. +Steele must never know!" + +As we enter the breakfast room an officious waiter bows and scrapes, +and seats us at a table giving full view of the sunny _patio_. We have +a quiet breakfast, boasting neither special cheer nor appetite, and it +is soon finished. We are beginning to wonder how we shall manage to +find our train if the Baron does not come for us, when the doorway is +darkened and a shadow falls across the table. + +Without looking up, I am sure it is he. + +"Gude-morning, Madame Steele. Gude-morning, Señorita. I hope you haf +slept well?" + +"Good-morning," I say, observing how white and heavy-eyed he looks in +the sunlight. + +"Yes, thank you, _we've_ slept well," says Mrs. Steele, "too well, I'm +afraid." + +"Oh, no, belief me, dthis extra train ees better." + +"You look ill, Baron; how did you sleep?" + +"Dthank you, I sleep not at all till yust dthe time to +rise--dtherefore am I late. If your dthings air ready ve vill start at +once." He sends a servant upstairs after our various purchases and +wraps, etc., and we find them all stowed in the carriage waiting at +the entrance, when we come down a few minutes later. The Baron stands +by the landau, waiting to help us in. On our drive to the station he +points out this and that bit of interest, quite in his usual way. + +"You zee dthat, Madame?" He points to a circular roof supported on +stone pillars sheltering water-tanks and primitive laundry essentials +"Dthat ees a 'pila,' a place vhere dthe vomans vash dthe garments." It +is surrounded by buxom young girls with dripping linen in their hands +which they seemed to be beating on stone slabs. "Dthat tree dthat grow +beside ees palma cristi." + +"Why, it's only what we call the castor-bean, only this is larger," I +venture to say. + +"Of course, my dear! 'A palma cristi by the pila' is the Baron's way +of saying a castor-oil bean by the wash-house." + +My laugh is a little forced, I'm afraid, and the Baron seems not to +have heard. + +"What is growing inside that fence?" I ask, with a stern +determination to keep up appearances. + +"A kind off cactus," says the Baron, "vhat cochineal bugs lif +on--dthey--how you say it?--'raise' much cochineal bugs in Guatemala." + + * * * * * + +The three volcanoes loom up mightily. The smoke is denser and darker +to-day, the "spirits" of Air, Fire and Water look down with menacing +aspect on the white city in the plain. + +"You must notice after you leaf Acajulta dthe volcano 'Yzalco'; it ees +_acteef_, as you say; it ees all fire by dthe dark of dthe night. And +in dthose bay off La Libertad and Puenta Arenas you must look at +dthose devil-feesh--_ach schrecklich_; dthey haf terrible great vings +vhat dthey wrap around vhat dthey eat." + +"You speak almost as if you would not be there to point them out on +the spot," says Mrs. Steele, smiling as we pass the Trocadero and draw +up at the station. + +"Qvite right! I am advise by a friend to stay and zee dthe Dthursday +bull-fight--I dthink I must." + +He helps us out of the carriage without noticing my unspoken amazement +or Mrs. Steele's incredulous, "What nonsense." + +"I vill put you in dthe train and then come back to zee your dthings +come." He leads the way to the "special" standing with snorting +engine on the furthest track. He seats us and is gone again. A servant +brings in our effects and the Baron follows. + +"Madame," he says, dropping into the seat behind Mrs. Steele, "I haf +arrange to haf dthis man zee you to the ship--he spik leedle English +and I am told gude off him as sairvant. I haf give him all +direction--he vill take gude care off you and you vill reach _San +Miguel_ in gude time, as I promeese." + +"But when are you coming?" I say. + +"I come not back to _San Miguel_." He speaks to Mrs. Steele and does +not meet my look. "I haf telegraph to Panama for my yacht. I vill +vait here till she come." + +"But I don't understand, Baron; this is very sudden, isn't it?" Mrs. +Steele looks greatly astonished. + +"Not so fery! Dthis train go soon; I must zay gude-bye. Here ees dthe +leedle carve spoon from Escuintla you zay you like. I haf had much +plaisir to know you, Madame. Gude-bye!" He holds out his shapely white +hand and Mrs. Steele takes it warmly. + +"Indeed, Baron, I'm quite breathless with surprise, and really very +sorry to lose you. Blanche and I will miss you sorely. If you ever +come to New York you know where to find me and a warm welcome. Our +kindest thoughts will follow you. Thank you for the spoon, although at +any other time I might hesitate to become the receiver of stolen +goods. Good-bye!" + +"Gude-bye, Madame--gude-bye, Señorita." He holds my hand the briefest +moment, and I feel a big lump come in my throat at the sight of his +face. My voice wavers a little as I say: + +"I am so sorry to say good-bye to you." + +"Dthank you, Señorita. I haf somedthing off yours I must not forget." +He puts a hand in his breast pocket and brings out the gold-crested +letter-book. He takes from it a tiny roll of cigarette paper. "Vidth +all my boast I haf not succeed to 'keep my pearl'; it ees yours, +Señorita." + +"No, Baron----" I begin, with warm protest. + +"If you vant me to haf it, Señorita, write me and I vill come from +dthe end of dthe vorld to get it. But you vill not, zo put dthis Inca +eye beside it. Dthey zay in my country it bring gude luck. But it look +like dthat sun ve haf ofer our heads in Acapulco Bay, dthink you not +zo, Madame?" + +He shows her the curious jewel, like opaque amber sprinkled with gold +dust. + +"It is very curious and interesting," says Mrs. Steele. + +"Indeed it is," I agree; "thank you very much." But I scarcely see the +Inca eye; I am looking into his and trying to read his face. + +"Zo, Señorita, dthough you go far nordthvard dthe Inca's eye from Peru +ees still upon you; I haf send him to take care off ... dthe _pearl_. +Gude-bye--Gude-bye, Madame!" + +The tall figure turns away, and in a moment is gone. + +"Why, Blanche, what is the matter?" Mrs. Steele's voice is sharp with +concern. I try to smile and instinctively my hand goes to my tightened +throat. "My poor child, do you care?" + +"How absurd!" I say, with what scorn I can command. "Care about +_what_, anyhow?" + +"Señorita!" The handsome face of the Peruvian looks in at an open +window near the far end of the car. A bell rings, the conductor shouts +some warning in Spanish. In the din I run to the window and the Baron +holds up a bunch of roses. "Dthink dthe best you can of me, Blanca; I +vill loaf you all my life." + +The look of suffering in the wonderful dark eyes brings the lump again +to my throat. I take the roses and I know my eyes are misty. + +"Thank you, Guillermo; it won't be hard to think good things of +you...." + +I feel a warning hand on my shoulder. It is Mrs. Steele, and the +touch recalls all my resolutions. + +"I shall always remember.... Good-bye!" + +The train moves off, the Baron steps back with that same look in his +face, and lifts his hat. His courtesy shows at the last some flaw, +for, although Mrs. Steele is there, his lips and eyes say only: + +"Gude-bye, Blanca!" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER THE SOUTHERN CROSS*** + + +******* This file should be named 28008-8.txt or 28008-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/0/0/28008 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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