his opinion of them was low. Women who had "missions" were always
tiresome, he had discovered. This one, it appeared, was unusual only in
that she had adopted a particularly exacting form of charitable work.
Nursing, even as a rich woman's diversion, must be anything but
agreeable. O'Reilly pictured this Evans person in his mind--a large,
plain, elderly creature, obsessed with impractical ideas of uplifting
the masses! She would undoubtedly bore him stiff with stories of her
work: she would reproach him with neglect of his duties to the
suffering. Johnnie was too poor to be charitable and too deeply
engrossed at the moment with his own troubles to care anything whatever
about the "masses."
And she was a "miss." That meant that she wore thick glasses and
probably kept cats.
A ringing laugh from the cramped hallway interrupted these reflections;
then a moment later Doctor Alvarado was introducing O'Reilly to a young
woman so completely out of the picture, so utterly the opposite of his
preconceived notions, that he was momentarily at a loss. Johnnie found
himself looking into a pair of frank gray eyes, and felt his hand
seized by a firm, almost masculine grasp. Miss Evans, according to his
first dazzling impression, was about the most fetching creature he had
ever seen and about the last person by whom any young man could be
bored. If she kept cats they must be pedigreed Persian cats, and well
worth keeping, Johnnie decided. The girl--and she was a girl--had
brought into the room an electric vitality, a breeziness hard to
describe. Her eyes were humorous and intelligent; her teeth, which she
seemed always ready to show in a friendly, generous smile, were strong
and white and sparkling. Altogether she was such a vision of healthy,
unaffected, and smartly gotten-up young womanhood that O'Reilly could
only stammer his acknowledgment of the introduction, inwardly berating
himself for his awkwardness. He was aware of Alvarado's amusement, and
this added to his embarrassment.
"The doctor has told me all about you." Miss Evans addressed Johnnie
over her shoulder as she laid off her furs and a stylish little turban
hat. "I'm dying to hear what happened on your trip."
"So am I," confessed Alvarado. "You know, Mr. O'Reilly has seen my
brothers."
"You men must go right ahead and talk as if I weren't here. I won't
interrupt, except with a few vivas or carambas or--What are some other
lady-like Spanish exclamations?"
"There aren't very many," Johnnie acknowledged. "I always try to swear
in English."
Alvarado placed an affectionate hand upon Miss Evans's shoulder.
"O'Reilly, this girl has done more for Cuba than any of us. She has
spent a small fortune for medical supplies," said he.
"Those poor men must live on quinine," the girl exclaimed. "Any one who
can bear to take the stuff ought to have all he wants. I've a perfect
passion for giving pills."
"Oh, you may joke about it. All the same, if others would make the same
sacrifice--"
Miss Evans interrupted breezily: "It wasn't any sacrifice at all.
That's the worst of it. The salve I bought was really for my
conscience, if you must know. I squander altogether too much on
myself." Then, turning to O'Reilly, "I love extravagance, don't you?"
"Dearly! It's my one unconquerable vice," he told her. He thought
grimly of the four dollars in his pocket which represented his and
Leslie Branch's total wealth, but it seemed to him that he was called
upon to agree with anything Miss Evans might choose to say.
O'Reilly liked this girl. He had liked her the instant she favored him
with her friendly smile, and so, trusting fatuously to his masculine
powers of observation, he tried to analyze her. He could not guess her
age, for an expensive ladies' tailor can baffle the most discriminating
eye. Certainly, however, she was not too old--he had an idea that she
would tell him her exact age if he asked her. While he could not call
her beautiful, she was something immensely better--she was alive,
human, interesting, and interested. The fact that she did not take her
"mission" over-seriously proved that she was also sensible beyond most
women. Yes, that was it, Norine Evans was a perfectly sensible,
unspoiled young person, who showed the admirable effects of clean
living and clean thinking coupled with a normal, sturdy constitution.
O'Reilly told himself that here was a girl who could pour tea, nurse a
sick man, or throw a baseball.
And she was as good as her promise. She did not interrupt when, during
dinner, Alvarado led Johnnie to talk about his latest experience in
Cuba, but, on the contrary, her unflagging interest induced O'Reilly to
address his talk more often to her than to the doctor. He soon
discovered that she understood the Cuban situation as well as or better
than he, and that her sympathies were keen. When she did speak it was
to ask intelligent questions, some of which, by the way, it taxed
O'Reilly's wits to answer satisfactorily. Heretofore, Johnnie had
looked upon the war primarily as an unfortunate condition of affairs
which had played the mischief with his own personal fortunes; he had
not allowed himself to be very deeply affected by the rights or the
wrongs of either party. But Norine Evans took a much deeper and broader
view of the matter. She was genuinely moved by the gallant struggle of
the Cuban people, and when the dinner was over she exploded a surprise
which left both men speechless.
"This settles it with me," she announced. "I'm going down there."
Alvarado stared at her for a moment. "My dear--" he began.
But she warned him: "Don't argue with me. You know I detest arguments.
I've been thinking about it for some time, and--"
"It is quite impossible," the doctor declared, firmly; and O'Reilly
agreed.
"Of course you could go to Havana," said the latter, "but you wouldn't
be allowed to see anything."
"I'm going right to the Insurrectos with you."
"WITH ME!" O'Reilly could not conceal his lack of enthusiasm. "I don't
know that the Junta will take me."
"They will if I ask them."
Alvarado inquired, "What ever put such a ridiculous idea into your
head?"
The girl laughed. "It's the only kind of ideas I have. But there are
ten thousand reasons why I want to go. In the first place, I fairly
itch to give pills. You say the rebels have no hospitals, no nurses--"
"We do the best we can, with our equipment."
"Well, I'll supply better equipment, and I'll handle it myself. I'm in
earnest. You sha'n't stop me."
O'Reilly was uncomfortably aware of the speaker's determination;
protests had no effect upon her; her clear cheeks had flushed, her eyes
were dancing. Evidently here was a girl who did very much as she chose.
"You don't realize what you are saying," he told her, gravely. "You'd
have to go as a filibuster, on some decrepit, unseaworthy freighter
loaded to the guards and crowded with men of all sorts. It's dangerous
business, running the Spanish blockade. If captured you would be
treated just like the rest of us."
"Lovely! We'd land in small boats some dark night. Maybe we'd have a
fight!"
"And if you got through, what then? Life in a bark hut, with nothing to
eat. Bugs! Snakes! Hardships!"
"That decides me. I eat too much--Doctor Alvarado tells me I do. I
adore huts, and I don't seriously object to insects."
The physician stirred uneasily. "It's utterly absurd," he expostulated.
"Some women might do it, but you're not the sort. You are--pardon me--a
most attractive young person. You'd be thrown among rough men."
"Mr. O'Reilly will look out for me. But for that matter I can take care
of myself. Oh, it's of no use trying to discourage me. I always have my
own way; I'm completely spoiled."
"Your family will never consent," O'Reilly ventured; whereupon Miss
Evans laughed.
"I haven't such a thing. I'm alone and unencumbered. No girl was ever
so fortunate. But wait--I'll settle this whole thing in a minute." She
quitted the table, ran to Alvarado's telephone, and called a number.
"She's after Enriquez," groaned the physician. "He's weak; he can't
refuse her anything."
"I don't want a woman on my hands," O'Reilly whispered, fiercely.
"Suppose she got sick? Good Lord! I'd have to NURSE her." He wiped a
sudden moisture from his brow.
"Oh, she won't get sick. She'll probably nurse you--and--and all the
other men. You'll like it, too, and you will all fall in love with
her--everybody does--and start fighting among yourselves. There! She
has Enriquez. Listen."
Johnnie shivered apprehensively at the directness with which Miss Evans
put her request. "You understand, I want to go and see for myself," she
was saying. "If you need medicines I'll give them--bushels of the
nastiest stuff I can buy. I'll organize a field hospital. ... Oh, very
well, call it a bribe, if you like. Anyhow, I've fully determined to
go, and Mr. O'Reilly has volunteered to take care of me. He's charmed
with the idea." Miss Evans giggled. "That means you'll have to take him
along, too."
There followed a pause during which the two men exchanged dismayed
glances.
"She doesn't seem to care what she says," O'Reilly murmured. "But--I'll
put a flea in Enriquez's ear."
"Put it in writing, please." There was another wait. "Now read it to
me. ... Good!" Miss Evans fairly purred over the telephone. "Send it to
me by messenger right away; that's a dear. I'm at Doctor Alvarado's
house, and he's beside himself with joy. Thanks, awfully. You're so
nice." A moment, and she was back in the dining-room facing her two
friends--a picture of triumph. "You have nothing more to say about it,"
she gloated. "'The Provisional Government of Cuba, through its New York
representatives, extends to Miss Norine Evans an invitation to visit
its temporary headquarters in the Sierra de--something-or-other, and
deems it an honor to have her as its guest so long as she wishes to
remain there. It requests that all military and civil officers afford
her every safety and convenience within their power.' That's
practically what Mr. Enriquez read to me. In fifteen minutes it will be
here in black and white. Now then, let's celebrate."
She executed a dance step, pirouetted around the room, then plumped
herself down into her chair. She rattled her cup and saucer noisily,
crying, "Fill them up, Doctor Gloom. Let's drink to Cuba Libre."
Johnnie managed to smile as he raised his demi-tasse. "Here's to my
success as a chaperon," said he. "I'm disliked by the Spaniards, and
now the Cubans will hate me. I can see happy days ahead."
XV
FILIBUSTERS
Leslie Branch was asleep when O'Reilly returned to their room, but he
awoke sufficiently to listen to the latter's breathless account of the
dinner-party.
"I'm rattled," Johnnie confessed. "Why, that girl just bounced right
into the middle of everything, and--and I can't bounce her out again."
"You say she's young, and PRETTY, and--RICH?" Leslie was incredulous.
"Y-yes! All of that."
"Um-m! Doctor Alvarado must mix a good cocktail."
"Why?"
"Because you're drunk and delirious. They don't come that way, my boy.
When they're rich they're old and ugly."
"I tell you this girl is young and--stunning."
"Of course she is," Branch agreed, soothingly. "Now go to sleep and
don't think any more about her, there's a good boy! Everything will be
all right in the morning. Perhaps it never happened; perhaps you didn't
meet any woman at all." The speaker yawned and turned over.
"Don't be an ass," Johnnie cried, impatiently. "What are we going to do
with a woman on our hands?"
"WE? Don't divide her with me. What are YOU going to do? The truth is
plain, this Miss Evans is in love with you and you don't know it. She
sees in you her soul mate. Well, if you don't want her, I want her.
I'll eat her medicine. I'll even--marry the poor old soul, if she's
rich."
O'Reilly arose early the next morning and hurried down to the office of
the Junta, hoping that he could convince Mr. Enriquez of the folly of
allowing Norine Evans to have her way. By the light of day Miss Evans's
project seemed more hare-brained than ever, and he suspected that
Enriquez had acquiesced in it only because of a natural inability to
refuse anything to a pretty woman--that was typically Cuban. But his
respect for Miss Evans's energy and initiative deepened when, on
arriving at 56 New Street, he discovered that she had forestalled him
and was even then closeted with the man he had come to see. Johnnie
waited uneasily; he was dismayed when the girl finally appeared, with
Enriquez in tow, for the man's face was radiant.
"It's all settled," she announced, at sight of O'Reilly. "I've speeded
them up."
"You're an early riser," the latter remarked. "I hardly expected--"
Enriquez broke in. "Such enthusiasm! Such ardor! She whirls a person
off his feet."
"It seems that the Junta lacks money for another expedition, so I've
made up the deficit. We'll be off in a week."
"Really? Then you're actually--going?"
"Of course."
"It was like a gift from Heaven," Enriquez cried. "Our last
embarrassment is removed, and--"
But Johnnie interrupted him. "You're crazy, both of you," he declared,
irritably. "Cuba is no place for an American girl. I'm not thinking so
much about the danger of capture on the way down as the hardship after
she gets there and the fact that she will be thrown among all sorts of
men."
The elder man lifted his head. "Every Cuban will know who Miss Evans
is, and what she has done for our cause. You do not seem to have a high
regard for our chivalry, sir."
"There!" Norine was triumphant.
"There is bound to be some danger, of course," Enriquez continued, "for
the coast is well patrolled; but once the expedition is landed, Miss
Evans will be among friends. She will be as safe in our camps as if she
were in her own home."
"Don't be hateful, and argumentative, or I'll begin to think you're a
born chaperon," Miss Evans exclaimed. "Come! Make up your mind to
endure me. And now you're going to help me buy my tropical outfit."
With a smile and a nod at Enriquez she took O'Reilly's arm and bore him
away.
In spite of his panic-struck protestations that he knew less than
nothing about woman's requirements, she led him up-town. And she kept
him at her side all that morning while she made her purchases; then
when she had loaded him down with parcels she invited him to take her
to lunch. The girl was so keenly alive and so delighted with the
prospect of adventure that Johnnie could not long remain displeased
with her. She had an irresistible way about her, and he soon found
himself sharing her good spirits. She had a healthy appetite, too; when
O'Reilly set out for his lodgings after escorting her home he walked in
order to save car fare. Clams, consomme, chicken salad, French pastry,
and other extravagances had reduced his capital to zero.
The days of idle waiting that followed were trying, even to one of
O'Reilly's philosophic habit of mind. He could learn nothing about the
Junta's plans, and, owing to his complete uncertainty, he was unable to
get work. Leslie Branch, too, failed to find steady employment, though
he managed, by the sale of an occasional column, to keep them both from
actual suffering. His cough, meanwhile, grew worse day by day, for the
spring was late and raw. As a result his spirits rose, and he became
the best of all possible good companions. Johnnie, who was becoming
constantly more fond of him, felt his anxiety increase in proportion to
this improvement in mood; it seemed to him that Branch was on the very
verge of a collapse.
At last there came a message which brought them great joy. Enriquez
directed them to be in readiness to leave Jersey City at seven o'clock
the following morning. Neither man slept much that night.
As they waited in the huge, barn-like station Enriquez appeared with
Norine Evans upon his arm. The girl's color was high; she was tremulous
with excitement. Leslie Branch, who saw her for the first time, emitted
a low whistle of surprise.
"Glory be! That goddess!" he cried. "And I called her a 'poor old
soul'!"
When Norine took his bony, bloodless hand in her warm grasp and flashed
him her frank, friendly smile, he capitulated instantly. In
hyperbolical terms he strove to voice his pleasure at the meeting; but
he lost the thread of his thought and floundered so hopelessly among
his words that Norine said, laughingly:
"Now, Mr. Branch, bold buccaneers don't make pretty speeches. Hitch up
your belt and say, 'Hello, Norine!' I'll call you Leslie."
"Don't call me 'Leslie,'" he begged. "Call me often."
Then he beamed upon the others, as if this medieval pun were both
startling and original. It was plain that he wholly and inanely
approved of Norine Evans.
Enriquez was introducing a new-comer now, one Major Ramos, a
square-jawed, forceful Cuban, who, it seemed, was to be in command of
the expedition.
"My duties end here," Enriquez explained. "Major Ramos will take charge
of you, and you must do exactly as he directs. Ask no questions, for he
won't answer them. Do you think you can follow instructions?"
"Certainly not. I sha'n't even try," Norine told him. "I'm fairly
bursting with curiosity at this moment."
"Remember, Ramos, not a word."
"I promise," smiled the major.
"Good-by and good luck." Enriquez shook hands all around; then he bowed
and kissed Miss Evans's fingers. "I shall pray that you escape all
danger, senorita, and I shall see that Cuba remembers her debt to you."
When he had gone the three Americans followed their new guide through
the iron gates.
Major Ramos proved that he knew how to obey orders even though the
other members of his party did not. He remained utterly deaf to Miss
Evans's entreaties that he let her know something about the plans of
the expedition; he would not even tell her where he was taking her,
where the other filibusters had assembled, or from what port their ship
would sail. He did go so far, however, as to explain that an inkling of
the Junta's plans had leaked out, and that determined efforts to upset
them were being made, efforts which necessitated the greatest care on
his part. This, of course, whetted the girl's curiosity; but to her
most artful queries he opposed a baffling silence. When Philadelphia,
Washington, then Baltimore, and finally Richmond were left behind, Miss
Evans was, in truth, ready to explode, and her two companions were in a
similar frame of mind.
Major Ramos was not naturally a silent man; he had all the loquacity of
the Latin, and all the Latin's appreciation of a pretty woman; he made
no secret of the fact that his orders irked him. Despite his official
reserve he proved himself a pleasant traveling-companion, and he talked
freely on all but one subject. He played a good game of cards, too, and
he devoted himself with admirable courtesy to Norine's comfort. It was
not until the train was approaching Charleston that he finally
announced:
"Now then, my first command. This is the end of our journey; the other
members of the expedition are here. But I must ask you not to talk with
them or with any strangers, for our friends are being watched by
detectives in the employ of the Spanish minister at Washington and by
United States deputy-marshals. One little indiscretion might ruin
everything."
"Spies! Oh, goody!" cried Miss Evans.
"The local authorities intend to seize any vessel we try to sail on. We
must be careful."
The hotel to which Major Ramos led his guests appeared to be well
filled; there were many Cubans in the lobby, and the air was heavy with
the aroma of their strong, black cigarettes. As the major entered they
turned interested and expectant faces toward him and they eyed his
companions with frank curiosity. Miss Evans became the target for more
than one warmly admiring glance.
As for O'Reilly, the familiar odor of those Cuban cigarettes, the
snatches of Spanish conversation which he overheard, awoke in him a
great excitement; he realized with an odd thrill that these eager,
dark-visaged men were now his friends and comrades, and that those
Americans loitering watchfully among them were his enemies--the spies
of whom Ramos had spoken. There were at least a score of the latter,
and all were plainly stamped with the distinctive marks of their
calling. That they, too, were interested in the latest arrivals was
soon made evident by their efforts to get acquainted.
To Norine Evans it was all immensely exciting. The attention she evoked
delighted her vastly, and she was almost offended when O'Reilly
threatened one particularly forward sleuth with a thrashing, thereby
ending her fun.
It was a strangely restless gathering. The Cubans sat in groups or in
pairs with their heads together, smoking furiously and whispering,
pausing now and then to glare balefully at some detective who drew
within ear-shot. Every hour increased the strain.
On the street it became known that a party of filibusters was in the
city and curious townspeople came to investigate, while others
journeyed to the water-front to stare at the big ocean-going tug which
had slipped into the harbor on the evening previous. When they learned
that she was none other than the Dauntless, that most famous of Cuban
blockade-runners, and that "Dynamite Johnny" O'Brien himself was in
command, interest grew. The exploits of that redoubtable mariner were
familiar to the citizens of Charleston, and their sympathies were quite
naturally with the cause he served; therefore they were disappointed to
behold a revenue cutter at anchor close alongside the Dauntless. Her
steam was up; she was ready for instant action; it seemed impossible
for "Dynamite Johnny" to get his cargo and his passengers aboard under
her very nose. Some imaginative person claimed to have a tip that the
Dauntless intended to ram the revenue cutter, and a warning to that
effect appeared in the evening paper, together with the rumor that a
Spanish cruiser was waiting just outside the three-mile limit.
Charleston awoke with a start, and the Cuban patriots who found
themselves the object of this sudden interest buzzed like flies. They
muttered and whispered more mysteriously than ever, and consumed even
greater quantities of tobacco. The detectives became painfully alert.
To O'Reilly and his two companions it seemed that the expedition had
already failed. Through some blunder its plans had evidently become
known, and all was ruined. That was the worst of these Cubans; they
couldn't keep a secret. Branch stalked the hotel lobby like a restless
wraith. O'Reilly was furious. Of the entire party Ramos alone
maintained an unruffled pleasantry; he spent the evening in Miss
Evans's company, quite oblivious to the general feeling of dismay.
On the next afternoon word was quietly passed to get ready, and the
filibusters, carrying their scant hand-baggage, began to leave the
hotel in groups, followed, of course, by the watchful spies.
As the three Americans prepared for departure Norine whispered:
"Listen! Everything is all right. We're not going aboard the Dauntless
at all; she's here as a blind."
"Are you sure?" O'Reilly shot her a quick glance.
"Major Ramos himself gave that story to the news-papers; it's all a
part of his plan. I promised not to tell, but--I just can't help
myself. Gee! I'm having a good time."
Leslie Branch shook his head mournfully. "You may enjoy it, but I
don't," he grumbled. "We'll end by being pinched, and that will finish
me. One week in a damp cell, with my lungs--"
O'Reilly, whose spirits had risen magically, clapped him heartily on
the back, crying: "Congratulations! You're feeling better."
"I never felt worse!" the other complained.
"Nonsense! That's the first kick you've made since we hit cold weather.
By the time we reach Cuba you'll be nice and melancholy and your cough
will be all gone."
Ramos led his three charges to the railroad station and into the rear
coach of a south-bound train, where the other members of the expedition
had already found seats. As they climbed aboard, a Secret Service agent
essayed to follow them, but he was stopped by a brakeman, who said:
"You can't ride in here; this is a special car. Some sort of a picnic
party. They're 'wops' or Greeks or something."
Other detectives who attempted to invade the privacy of that rear coach
after the train had gotten under way were also denied. Meanwhile, the
filibusters cast restraint aside, and for the first time intermingled
freely.
Evening came, then night, and still the party was jerked along at the
tail of the train without a hint as to its destination. About midnight
those who were not dozing noted that they had stopped at an obscure
pine-woods junction, and that when the train got under way once more
their own car did not move. The ruse was now apparent; owing to the
lateness of the hour, it was doubtful if any one in the forward coaches
was aware that the train was lighter by one car.