THE TOMATO FINCA
Three weeks had passed since his interview with Austin before Jefferson
was ready to sail, and he spent most of the time in strenuous activity.
He had cabled to England for a big centrifugal pump and a second-hand
locomotive-type boiler, while, when they arrived, Macallister said that
five hundred pounds would not tempt him to raise full steam on the
latter. He also purchased a broken-down launch, and, though she was
cheap, the cost of her and the pump, with other necessaries, made a
considerable hole in his remaining AL2,000. It was for this reason he
undertook to make the needful repairs himself, with the help of a
steamer's donkey-man who had somehow got left behind, while Austin and
Macallister spent most of the week during which the _Estremedura_ lay at
Las Palmas in the workshop he had extemporised. He appeared to know a
little about machinery, and could, at least, handle hack-saw and file in
a fashion which moved Macallister to approbation, while Austin noticed
that the latter's sardonic smile became less frequent as he and the
American worked together.
Jefferson was grimly in earnest, and it was evident that his
thoroughness, which overlooked nothing, compelled the engineer's
admiration. It also occurred to Austin that, while there are many ways
in which a lover may prove his devotion, few other men would probably
have cared for the one Jefferson had undertaken. He was not a very
knightly figure when he emerged, smeared with rust and scale, from the
second-hand boiler, or crawled about the launch's engines with blackened
face and hands; but Austin, who remembered it was for Muriel Gascoyne he
had staked all his little capital in that desperate venture, forebore to
smile. He knew rather better than Jefferson did that it was a very
forlorn hope indeed the latter was venturing on. One cannot heave a
stranded steamer off without strenuous physical exertion, and the white
man who attempts the latter in a good many parts of Western Africa
incontinently dies.
At last all was ready, and one night Jefferson steamed off to the
African liner from Las Palmas mole, taking with him the steamboat
donkey-man and another English seafarer, who were at the time
disgracefully drunk, as well as six Spaniards from the coasting
schooners. He said that when he reached the _Cumbria_ he would hire
niggers, who would be quite as reliable, and considerably cheaper. As it
happened, the _Estremedura_ was going to sea that night, bound for the
eastern islands, and Mrs. Hatherly, who was never seasick, and had heard
that the climate of one of them where it scarcely ever rained was good
for rheumatic affections, had determined to visit it in her. Jacinta,
for no very apparent reason, decided to go with her, and it accordingly
came about that most of her few acquaintances were with Muriel Gascoyne
when she said good-bye to Jefferson at the head of the mole. She kissed
him unblushingly, and then, when the launch panted away across the
harbour, turned, a little pale in face, but with a firm step, towards
the _Estremedura_, and an hour later stood with Jacinta on the saloon
deck, watching the liner's black hull slide down the harbour. Then as
the steamer lurched out past the mole, with a blast of her whistle
throbbing across the dusky heave, Muriel shivered a little.
"I don't know whether we shall ever meet here again, but I think I could
bear that now, and it really couldn't be so very hard, after all," she
said. "It would have been horrible if he had gone and had not told me."
Jacinta looked thoughtful, as in fact she was. She was of a more
complex, and, in some respects, more refined nature than her companion,
while her knowledge of the world was almost startlingly extensive; but
wisdom carries one no further than simplicity when one approaches the
barriers that divide man's little life from the hereafter. Indeed, there
is warrant for believing that when at last they are rolled away, it is
not the wise who will see with clearest vision.
"I am not--quite--sure I understand," she said.
There was a trace of moisture on Muriel Gascoyne's cheek, but she held
herself erect, and she was tall and large of frame, as well as a
reposeful young woman. Though she probably did not know it, there was a
suggestion of steadfast unchangeableness in her unconscious pose.
"Now," she said, very simply, "he belongs to me and I to him. If he dies
out there--and I know that is possible--it can only be a question of
waiting."
Jacinta was a little astonished. She felt that there had been a great
and almost incomprehensible change in Muriel Gascoyne since she fell
very simply and naturally in love with Jefferson. It was also very
evident that she was not consoling herself with empty phrases, or
repeating commendable sentiments just because they appealed to her
fancy, as some women will. She seemed to be stating what she felt and
knew.
"Ah!" said Jacinta, "you knew he might die there, and you could let him
go?"
Muriel smiled. "My dear, I could not have stopped him, and now he is
gone I think I am in one way glad that it was so. I do not want money--I
have always had very little--but, feeling as he did, it was best that he
should go. He would not have blamed me afterwards--of that I am
certain--but I think I know what he would have felt if hardship came,
and I wanted to spare it him." Then, with a faint smile, which seemed to
show that she recognised the anti-climax, she became prosaic again. "One
has to think of such things. Eight thousand pounds will not go so very
far, you know."
Jacinta left her presently, and, as it happened, came upon Austin soon
after the _Estremedura_ steamed out to sea. He was leaning on the
forward rails while the little, yacht-like vessel--she was only some 600
tons or so--swung over the long, smooth-backed undulations with slanted
spars and funnel. There was an azure vault above them, strewn with the
lights of heaven, and a sea of deeper blue which heaved oilily below,
for, that night, at least, the trade breeze was almost still.
"The liner will be clear of the land by now," she said. "I suppose you
are glad you did not go with Jefferson? You never told me that he had
asked you to!"
Austin, who ignored the last remark, laughed in a somewhat curious
fashion.
"Well," he said, reflectively, "in one respect Jefferson is, perhaps, to
be envied. He is, at least, attempting a big thing, and if he gets wiped
out over it, which I think is quite likely, he will be beyond further
trouble, and Miss Gascoyne will be proud of him. In fact, it is she I
should be sorry for. She seems really fond of him."
"Is that, under the circumstances, very astonishing?"
"Jefferson is really a very good fellow," said Austin, with a smile. "In
fact, whatever it may be worth, he has my sincere approbation."
Jacinta made a little gesture of impatience. "Pshaw!" she said. "You
know exactly what I mean. I wonder if there is one among all the men I
have ever met who would--under any circumstances--do as much for me?"
She glanced at him for a moment in a fashion which sent a thrill through
him; but Austin seldom forgot that he was the _Estremedura_'s purser. He
had also a horror of cheap protestations, and he avoided the question.
"You could scarcely expect--me--to know," he said. "Suppose there was
such a man, what would you do for him?"
There was just a trace of heightened colour in Jacinta's face. "I think,
if it was necessary, and he could make me believe in him as Muriel
believes in Jefferson, I would die for him."
Austin said nothing for a space, and looked eastwards towards Africa,
across the long, smooth heave of sea, while he listened to the throbbing
of the screw and the swash of the water beneath the steamer's side. He
was quite aware that while Jacinta, on rare occasions, favoured her more
intimate masculine friends with a glimpse of her inner nature, she never
permitted them to presume upon the fact. He had, he felt, made some
little progress in her confidence and favour, but it was quite clear
that it would be inadvisable to venture further without a sign from her.
Jacinta was able to make her servants and admirers understand exactly
what line of conduct it was convenient they should assume. If they
failed to do so, she got rid of them.
"Whatever is Mrs. Hatherly going to Fuerteventura for?" he asked.
"Dry weather," said Jacinta, with a little smile.
Austin laughed. "One would fancy that Las Palmas was dry and dusty
enough for most people. I suppose you told her there is nowhere she can
stay? They haven't a hotel of any kind in the island."
"That," said Jacinta, sweetly, "will be your business. You are a friend
of Don Fernando, and he has really a comfortable house. Still, I expect
three days of it will be quite enough for Mrs. Hatherly. You can pick us
up, you know, when you come back from Lanzarote."
Austin made a little whimsical gesture of resignation. "There is,
presumably, no use in my saying anything. After all, she will be company
for Confidencia."
"Who is, by the way, a friend of yours, too."
"I have artistic tastes, as you know. Confidencia is--barring one or
two--the prettiest girl in these islands."
He moved away, but he turned at the top of the ladder, and Jacinta
smiled.
"It is almost a pity a taste of that kind does not invariably accompany
an artistic talent," she said.
Austin went down to his little room, which was almost as hot as an oven,
and strove to occupy himself with his papers. The attempt, however, was
not a success, for his thoughts would follow Jefferson, who was on his
way to Africa with a big centrifugal pump, a ricketty steam launch, and
a second-hand boiler of the locomotive type. In view of his ulterior
purpose, there was, it seemed to Austin, something ludicrously
incongruous about this equipment, though he realised that the gaunt
American possessed in full degree the useful practical point of view in
which he himself fell short. Jefferson was, in some respects, primitive,
but that was, after all, probably fortunate for him. He knew what he
desired, and set about the obtaining of it by the first means available.
Then he dismissed the subject, and climbing into his bunk went to sleep.
Next morning he took Jacinta, Mrs. Hatherly, and Muriel Gascoyne
ashore, and afterwards went on with the _Estremedura_ to the adjoining
island. It was three days later, and the steamer had come back again,
when he and her captain rode with the three ladies towards the coast,
after a visit to the black volcanic hills. Mrs. Hatherly and Muriel sat
in a crate-like affair upon the back of a camel, with distress in their
faces, for there is probably no more unpleasant form of locomotion to
anyone not used to it than camel-riding. The beast possesses a gait
peculiarly its own, and at every lurch of its shoulders the two women
jolted violently in the crate. The camel, however, proceeded
unconcerned, with long neck moving backwards and forwards like a
piston-rod. The rest rode horses, and a gun and several ensanguined
rabbits lay across the Captain's saddle. He rode like a Castilian, and
not a sailor, and Jacinta had noticed already that Austin was equally at
home in the saddle. The fact had, naturally, its significance for her.
It was then about two o'clock in the afternoon, and very hot, though the
fresh trade breeze blew long wisps of dust away from under the horses'
feet. Nobody could have called that part of Fuerteventura a beautiful
country, but it had its interest to two of the party, who had never seen
anything quite like it before. Behind them rose low hills, black with
streams of lava, red with calcined rock, and every stone on them was
outlined in harsh colouring in that crystalline atmosphere. In front lay
a desolation of ashes and scoriA|, with tracts of yellow sand, blown
there presumably from Africa, which swirled in little spirals before the
breeze. It was chequered with clumps of euphorbia and thorn, but they,
too, matched the prevailing tones of grey and brown and chrome, and
there was not in all the waste a speck of green. Further still in front
of them the sea flamed like a mirror, and a vault of dazzling blue hung
over all.
They wound down into a hollow, through which, as one could see by the
tortuous belt of stones, a little water now and then flowed, and
dismounted in the scanty shadow of a ruined wall. It had been built high
and solid of blocks of lava centuries ago, perhaps by the first of the
Spanish, or by dusky invaders from Morocco. As it was not quite so hot
there, Austin and the Captain made preparations for a meal when a
bare-legged peon led the beasts away. Then the Captain frowned darkly at
the prospect.
"Ah, mala gente. Que el infierno los come!" he said, with blazing eyes,
and swung a brown hand up, as though appealing to stones and sky before
he indulged in another burst of eloquence.
"What is he saying?" asked Muriel Gascoyne. "He seems very angry."
Austin smiled. "I scarcely think it would be altogether advisable to
enquire, but it is not very astonishing if he is angry," he said. "Don
Erminio is not, as a rule, a success as a business man, and this is a
farm he once invested all his savings in. I am particularly sorry to say
that I did much the same."
Miss Gascoyne appeared astonished, which was, perhaps, not altogether
unnatural, as she gazed at the wilderness in front of her. There were,
she could now see, signs that somebody had made a desultory attempt at
building a wall which was nearly buried again. A few odd heaps of lava
blocks had also been piled up here and there, but the hollow was strewn
with dust and ashes, and looked as though nothing had ever grown there
since that island was hurled, incandescent, out of the sea. It was very
difficult to discover the least evidence of fertility.
"Ah!" said Jacinta, "so this is the famous Finca de La Empreza
Financial?"
Oliviera overheard her, and once more made a gesture with arms flung
wide.
"Mira!" he said. "The cemetery where I bury the hopes of me. O much
tomate, mucho profit. I buy more finca and the cow for me. Aha! There is
also other time I make the commercial venture. I buy two mulo. Very good
mulo. I charge mucho dollar for the steamboat cargo cart. Comes the
locomotura weet the concrete block down Las Palmas mole. The mole is
narrow, the block is big, the man drives the locomotura behind it, he
not can look. Vaya, my two mulo, and the cart, she is in the sea. That
is also ruin me. I say, 'Vaya. In fifty year she is oll the same,' but
when I see the Finca de tomate I have the temper. Alors, weet
permission, me vais chasser the conejo."
"The unfortunate man!" said Jacinta, when he strode away in search of a
rabbit. "Still, the last of it wasn't quite unexceptional Castilian."
Austin laughed. "Don Erminio speaks French almost as well as he does
English. In fact, he's a linguist in his way. Still, I'm not sorry he
didn't insist upon me going shooting with him. It's risky, and I would
sooner he'd borrowed somebody else's gun."
They made a tolerable lunch, for the _Estremedura_'s cook knew his
business, and, though it very seldom rains there, some of the finest
grapes to be found anywhere grow in the neighbouring island of
Lanzarote. Then Mrs. Hatherly apparently went to sleep with her back
against the wall, while Muriel sat silent in the shadow, close beside
her. Perhaps the camel ride had shaken her, and perhaps she was thinking
of Jefferson, for she was gazing east towards Africa, across the flaming
sea. Jacinta, as usual, appeared delightfully fresh and cool, as she
sat with her long white dress tucked about her on a block of lava, while
Austin lay, contented, not far from her feet.
"You never told me you had a share in the Finca," she said.
"Well," said Austin, "I certainly had. I also made a speech at the
inaugural dinner, and Don Erminio almost wept with pride while I did it.
I had, though he did not mention it, a share in his mule cart, too, and
once or twice bought a schooner load of onions to ship to Havana at his
suggestion. You see, I had then a notion that it was my duty to make a
little money. Somehow, the onions never got to Cuba, and our other
ventures ended--like the Finca."
"Then you have given up all idea of making money now?"
"It really didn't seem much use continuing, and, after all, a little
money wouldn't be very much good to me. A chance of making twenty
thousand pounds might, perhaps, rouse me to temporary activity."
"Ah," said Jacinta, looking at him with thoughtful eyes, "you want too
much, my friend. You are not likely to make it by painting little
pictures on board the _Estremedura_."
A faint trace of darker colour showed through the bronze in Austin's
cheek. "Yes," he said, "that is exactly what is the matter with me.
Still, as I shall never get it, I am tolerably content with what I have.
Fortunately, I am fond of it--I mean the sea."
"Of course," said Jacinta, with a curious little sparkle in her eyes,
"contentment is commendable, though there is something that appeals to
one's fancy in the thought of a man struggling against everything to
acquire the unattainable."
"So long as it is unattainable, what would be the good? Besides, I am
almost afraid I am not that kind of man."
Jacinta said nothing further, and half an hour slipped by, until a trail
of smoke with a smear of something beneath it, crept up out of the
glittering sea.
"The _Andalusia_," said Austin. "She takes up our western run here under
the new time-table. I hope she's bringing no English folks from Las
Palmas to worry us."
As it happened, there was a man on board the _Andalusia_ who was to
bring one of the party increased anxiety and distress of mind, but they
did not know that then, and in the meanwhile the peon with the horses
and Don Erminio came back again. He brought no rabbits, but he had
succeeded in badly scratching one of the Damascene barrels of Austin's
gun.
"The conejo he no can eat the stone, and here there is nothing else," he
explained. "Otra vez--the other time, comes here a seA+-or Engleesman, and
we have the gun, but there is no conejo. Me I say, 'Mira. Conejo into
his hole he go!' Bueno! The Engleesman he put the white rat into that
hole, and wait, oh, he wait mucho tiempo. Me, away I go. I come back,
the Engleesman has bag the Captain of puerto."
Then he turned with a dramatic gesture to the camel, which stretched out
its little head towards his leg. "Bur-r-r. Hijo de diablo. Aughr-r-r.
Focha camello! Me, I also spick the Avar-r-ack. The condemn camello he
comprehend."
The long-necked beast at least knelt down as though it did, and Mrs.
Hatherly climbed into the crate with a somewhat apprehensive glance at
the gallant captain.