JACINTA BECOMES INDIGNANT
It was fifteen days after he boarded the steamer when Austin reached Las
Palmas in a condition which, at least, prevented him chafing at the
delay as he otherwise would have done. On the second day something went
wrong with the high-pressure engine, and the little, deep-loaded vessel
lay rolling idly athwart the swell, while her engineers dismantled and
re-erected it. Then the trouble they had already had with the condenser
became more acute, so that they would scarcely keep a vacuum, and it
also happened that the trade-breeze she had to steam against blew
unusually fresh that season.
Austin, however, was not aware of this at the time. He lay rambling
incoherently for several days, and when at last his senses came back to
him, found himself too weak and listless to trouble about anything. He
gained strength rapidly, for the swamp fever does not, as a rule, keep
its victim prostrate long. It either kills him without loss of time, or
allows him to escape for a season; but its effect is frequently mental
as well as physical, and Austin's listlessness remained. He had borne a
heavy strain, and when he went ashore at Las Palmas the inevitable
reaction was intensified by the black dejection the fever had left
behind. It seemed to him that he and Jefferson were only wasting their
efforts, and though he still meant to go on with them, he expected no
result, since he now felt that there was not the slightest probability
of their ever getting the _Cumbria_ off. It was a somewhat unusual mood
for a young Englishman to find himself in, though by no means an
incomprehensible one in case of a man badly shaken by the malaria fever,
while one of Austin's shortcomings was, or so, at least, Jacinta Brown
considered, a too complaisant adaptation of himself to circumstances.
She held the belief that when the latter were unpropitious, a determined
attempt to alter them was much more commendable, and not infrequently
successful.
In any case, Austin found Pancho Brown was away buying tomatoes when he
called at his office, and the Spanish clerk also informed him that Miss
Brown and Mrs. Hatherly had left Las Palmas for a while. He fancied they
had gone to Madeira, but was not certain, and Austin, who left him a
message for Brown and a letter Jefferson had charged him with to be
forwarded to Miss Gascoyne, went on to the telegraph office more
dejected than ever. Jacinta had, usually, a bracing effect upon those
she came into contact with, and Austin, who felt he needed a mental
stimulant, realised now that one of the things that had sustained him
was the expectation of hearing her express her approval of what he had
done. He had not looked for anything more, but it seemed that he must
also dispense with this consolation.
He delivered one of the canarios, who was apparently recovering, to his
friends, and saw the other bestowed in the hospital, and then, finding
that he could not loiter about Las Palmas waiting an answer to his
cable, which he did not expect for several days, decided to go across to
Teneriffe with the _Estremedura_. There was no difficulty about this,
though funds were scanty, for the Spanish manager told him he could make
himself at home on board her as long as he liked, if he would instruct
the new sobrecargo in his duties, as he, it appeared, had some
difficulty in understanding them.
On the night they went to sea he lay upon the settee in the engineers'
mess-room, with Macallister sitting opposite him, and a basket of white
grapes and a garafon of red wine on the table between them. Port and
door were wide open, and the trade-breeze swept through the room, fresh,
and delightfully cool. Austin had also an unusually good cigar in his
hand, and stretched himself on the settee with a little sigh of content
when he had recounted what they had done on board the _Cumbria_.
"I don't know if we'll ever get her off, and the astonishing thing is,
that since I had the fever I don't seem to care," he said. "In the
meanwhile, it's a relief to get away from her. In fact, I feel I would
like to lie here and take it easy for at least a year."
Macallister nodded comprehendingly. Austin's face was blanched and
hollow, and he was very thin, while the stamp of weariness and lassitude
was plain on him. Still, as he glanced in his direction a little sparkle
crept into the engineer's eyes.
"So Jefferson made the pump go, and ran the forehold dry!" he said.
"When ye come to think of it, yon is an ingenious man."
Austin laughed. "He is also, in some respects, an astonishing one. He
was perfectly at home among the smart people at the Catalina, and I
fancy he would have been equally so in the Bowery, whose inhabitants,
one understands, very much resemble in their manners those of your
Glasgow closes or Edinburgh wynds. In fact, I've wondered, now and then,
if Miss Gascoyne quite realises who she is going to marry. There are
several sides to Jefferson's character, and she has, so far, only seen
one of them."
"Well," said Macallister, reflectively, "I'm thinking she will never
see the rest. There are men, though they're no exactly plentiful, who
can hide them, and it's scarcely likely that Jefferson will rive a
steamboat out of the African swamps again."
"Once is quite enough in a lifetime, but it's when the work is done, and
he has to quiet down, I foresee trouble for Jefferson. I'm not sure Miss
Gascoyne's English friends would altogether appreciate him."
Again Macallister nodded. "Still," he said, "what yon man does not know
he will learn. I would back him to do anything now he has made that
boiler steam. Then ye will mind it's no the clever women who are the
easiest to live with when ye have married them, and there's a good deal
to be said for girls like Miss Gascoyne, who do not see too much. It is
convenient that a wife should be content with her husband, and not be
wanting to change him into somebody else, which is a thing I would not
stand at any price myself."
Austin grinned, for it was known that Macallister had, at least now and
then, found it advisable to entertain his friends on board the
_Estremedura_ by stealth. The engineer however, did not appear to notice
his smile.
"Ye will go back when ye get the money?" he said.
"Of course. I have to see the thing out now, though I don't quite
understand how I ever came to trouble myself about it in the first
place."
This time it was Macallister who grinned. "I have been in this world a
weary while, and would ye pull the wool over my eyes? Ye are aware that
the notion was driven into ye."
Austin was astonished, and a trifle annoyed, as he remembered a certain
very similar conversation he had had with Jefferson. It was
disconcerting to find that Macallister was as conversant with his
affairs as his partner had shown himself to be, especially as they had
both apparently drawn the same inference.
"I wonder what made you say that?" he asked, with lifted brows.
Macallister laughed. "Well," he said drily, "I'm thinking Miss Brown
knows, as well as I do, that ye would not have gone of your own accord."
"Why should Miss Brown have the slightest wish that I should go to
Africa?"
"If ye do not know, how could ye expect me to? Still, it should be plain
to ye that it was not for your health."
Austin raised himself a trifle, and looked at his comrade steadily. "The
drift of your remarks is tolerably clear. Any way, because I would
sooner you made no more of them, it might be as well to point out that
no girl who cared twopence about a man would send him to the swamps
where the _Cumbria_ is lying."
"Maybe she would not. There are things I do not know, but ye will mind
that Jacinta Brown is not made on quite the same model as Miss Gascoyne.
She sees a good deal, and if she was not content with her husband she
would up and alter him. I'm thinking it would not matter if it hurt the
pair o' them."
"The difficulty is that she hasn't got one."
Macallister laughed softly. "It's one that can be got over, though
Jacinta's particular. It's not everybody who would suit her. Ye are
still wondering why ye went to Africa?"
"No," said Austin, with a trace of grimness. "I don't think it's worth
while. Mind, I'm not admitting that I didn't go because the notion
pleased me, and if Miss Brown wished me to, it was certainly because of
Muriel Gascoyne."
"Maybe," said Macallister, with a little incredulous smile. He rose,
and, moving towards the doorway, turned again. "She might tell ye
herself to-morrow. She's now in Santa Cruz."
He went out, apparently chuckling over something, and Austin
thoughtfully smoked out his cigar. To be a friend of Jacinta Brown's
was, as he had realised already, a somewhat serious thing. It implied
that one must adopt her point of view, and, what was more difficult, to
some extent, at least, sink his own individuality. Macallister and
Jefferson were, he fancied, perhaps right upon one point, and that was
that Jacinta had decided that a little strenuous action might be
beneficial in his case; but if this was so, Austin was not sure that he
was grateful to her. He was willing to do anything that would afford her
pleasure, that was, so long as he could feel she would gain anything
tangible, if it was only the satisfaction of seeing Muriel Gascoyne made
happy through his endeavours. In fact, what he wished was to do her a
definite service, but the notion of being reformed, as it were, against
his wishes, when he was not sure that he needed it, did not please him.
This was carrying a friendly interest considerably too far, and it was
quite certain, he thought, that he could expect nothing more from her.
He almost wished that he had never seen her, which was a desire he had
hovered on the brink of before; but while he considered the matter the
trade-breeze was sighing through the port, and the engines throbbed on
drowsily, while from outside came the hiss and gurgle of parted seas.
Austin heard it all, until the sounds grew fainter, and he went to
sleep.
It also happened that while he slept and dreamed of her, Jacinta sat
with Muriel Gascoyne in the garden of a certain hotel on the hillside
above Santa Cruz, Teneriffe. The house had been built long ago,
evidently for a Spanish gentleman of means and taste, and its latest
proprietor had sufficient sense to attempt no improvement on its
old-world beauty. It stood on a terrace of the hillside, quiet, quaint,
and cool, with its ancient, bronze-railed balconies, red-tiled roof, and
pink-washed walls, but its garden of palms and oleanders was its
greatest charm.
On the night in question a full moon hung over the CaA+-adas' splintered
rampart, and its soft radiance fell upon the white-walled city and smote
a track of glittering silver across the vast plain of sea. The smell of
oleanders and heliotrope was heavy in the air, and a cluster of blossoms
swayed above Jacinta's shoulder. She was just then looking up at a
Spanish officer in dark green uniform, who stood close by, with sword
girt tight to his thigh. He had a dark, forceful face, with the stamp of
distinction on it, but he received no encouragement, though he glanced
at the vacant place on the stone bench suggestively.
"No," said Jacinta. "I do not think I shall go to-morrow, so you need
not call for me. I have scrambled through the Mercedes Wood several
times already, and we came here to be quiet. That is why we are sitting
outside to-night. There are two or three tiresome people in the house
who will insist upon talking."
It is seldom necessary to furnish a Spaniard, who is usually skilled in
innuendo, with a second hint, and the officer took his departure
gracefully. When he vanished, with jingling sword, into the shadow of
the palms, Muriel looked at her companion.
"You meant me to stay?" she said.
"Of course," said Jacinta. "Still, I didn't mean you to let him see that
I did, and I really did not kick you very hard. Any way, it doesn't
matter. The great thing is that he is gone."
"You were anxious that he should go?"
"Yes," said Jacinta. "I feel relieved now. He is, in some respects, a
very silly man. In fact, he has been wanting to marry me for ever so
long."
"Why?" said Muriel, and stopped abruptly. "Of course, I mean that he is
a Spaniard, you know."
Jacinta laughed, and apparently indicated herself by a little wave of
her fan. She was once more attired in an evening dress that appeared to
consist largely of black lace, and looked curiously dainty and
sylph-like in the diaphanous drapery. The moonlight was also on her
face.
"The reason," she said, "ought to be sufficiently plain. He is, as you
point out, certainly Spanish, but there really are a few estimable
gentlemen of that nationality. This one was Governor or Commandante in
some part of Cuba, and I believe he got comparatively rich there. They
usually do. Still, he's a little fond of the casino, and is reported to
be unlucky, while, in spite of my obvious disadvantages, I am the
daughter of Pancho Brown."
She stopped with another laugh that had a faintly suggestive ring in it.
"There are times when I wish I was somebody else who hadn't a penny!"
"But it can't be nice to be poor," said Muriel, looking at her with a
trace of bewilderment in her big blue eyes.
"It is probably distinctly unpleasant. Still, it would be consoling to
feel that your money could neither encourage nor prevent anybody you
liked falling in love with you, and it would, in one sense, be nice to
know that the man you graciously approved of would have to get whatever
you wanted for you. You ought to understand that."
There was a trace of pride in Muriel's smile. "Of course; but, after
all, there are not many men who can do almost anything, like--Harry
Jefferson. Some of the very nicest ones seem quite unable to make
money."
"I really don't think there are," and Jacinta's tone was, for no very
apparent reason, slightly different now. "The nicest ones are, as you
suggest, usually lazy. It's sad, but true. Still, you see, if ever I
married, my husband would have to shake off his slothfulness and do
something worth while."
"But he mightn't want to."
"Of course," said Jacinta, drily. "He probably wouldn't. Still, he would
have to. I should make him."
"Ah," said Muriel. "Do you know that you are just a little hard, and I
think when one is too hard one is generally sorry afterwards. Now, I
don't understand it all, but you once told me you had got something you
wished for done, and were sorry you had. I fancied you were even sorrier
than you wished me to know."
Jacinta sat silent a moment or two, with a curious expression in her
face, as she looked out across the clustered roofs towards the sparkling
sea. It was a custom she had fallen into lately, and it was always
towards the east she gazed. Then she smiled.
"Well," she said, "perhaps I was, but it was certainly very silly of
me."
Neither of them spoke again for a while, and by and by a man came out of
the house bearing an envelope upon a tray. Jacinta tore it open, and
Muriel saw the blood surge to her face as she spread out the telegraphic
message. Then the swift colour faded, and there was only a little angry
glint in her eyes.
"It's from my father, and good news for you," she said. "Tell Muriel
Austin was here. Salvage operations difficult, but he left Jefferson,
who expects to be successful, well. Forwarding letter."
"Ah!" said Muriel, with a little gasp, "you don't know what a relief
that is to me. But you seem almost angry."
Jacinta laughed a trifle harshly. "I almost think I am. It isn't exactly
pleasant to find one's self mistaken, and I had expected something
better from Mr. Austin. The difficulties he mentions were evidently too
much for him. You were quite right, my dear. There are not many men like
Jefferson."
Now Muriel Gascoyne had no very keen perceptions, and was, moreover,
wrapped up in her own and Jefferson's affairs, or she might have seen
that anger was not all that Jacinta was feeling. As it was, overcome by
the relief the message had brought her, she quite failed to notice the
pain in her companion's face or the quivering of her hands. In a minute
or two Jacinta, who waited until she fancied she could do so without it
appearing significant, rose and left her.
She, however, stopped on the terrace, and once more looked down on the
glittering sea, with one hand closed at her side. Then, as though
remembering something, she turned hastily.
"I could never have believed you were a coward--and you went out for
me!" she said, and moved towards the hotel with a little air of
resolution, as one who had made a painful decision.