THE sun was low, and the town lay in grateful shadow when Appleby walked
slowly down the calle that leads out of Santa Marta. He was dressed
plainly in white duck, and no longer carried a rifle, while he scarcely
seemed to hear the observations of Harper, who walked at his side. His
brown face was a trifle grave, and Maccario, who went with them, smiled
dryly when he noticed that once or twice he sighed.
Stone pavements and white walls were hot still, but the dazzling glare
had faded, and the street was thronged with citizens enjoying the faint
coolness of the evening. Here and there one of them greeted the little
group with signs of respect, but Appleby scarcely noticed them. Looking
straight before him he saw the shattered lattices, and the scars and
stains of smoke on the white walls which marked the scene of the last
grim struggle with Morales. Morales lay at rest in the little campo
santo, and in a few more minutes Appleby would in all probability have
turned his back forever on Santa Marta. It was with confused feelings,
through which there ran a keen regret, he remembered what had befallen
him there.
Then, as they approached the strip of uneven pavement hastily flung down
on the spot where the Sin Verguenza had only a few days ago swept over
the barricade, he stopped a moment as brown-faced men with rifles,
regardless of discipline--which was, however, seldom much in evidence
among the Sin Verguenza--thronged about him. Amidst cries and
gesticulations they thumped his shoulders and wrung his hands, while
once more Appleby wondered whether he had decided wisely as he
recognized the sincerity of the good will in their dark eyes. He had
fought with them, faced imminent peril, borne with anxiety and short-
comings, and feasted riotously, in their company, and now he found it
harder to part from them than it would have been from more estimable
men.
Maccario, it seemed, understood what he was thinking, for his face was
sympathetic as he glanced at his companion.
"One would fancy that they were sorry to let you go," he said. "It is a
good life, a man's life, the one you are leaving. Will you find better
comrades in your smoky cities?"
Appleby smiled a trifle wistfully, and did not answer for a moment. The
vivid, untrammelled life appealed to him, and for a time he had found
delight in it, but he was wise, and knew that once peace was established
there would be no room in Cuba for the Sin Verguenza. They must once
more become toilers, or descend to intrigue and conspiracy, and he knew
the Castilian jealousy of the alien, and that past services are lightly
remembered in the day of prosperity. He and his comrades had borne the
stress and the strain, and it seemed wiser to leave them now before the
distrust and dissension came.
"None better to face peril or adversity with, but a change is coming,
and one cannot always wear the bandolier," he said. "If I go now they
will only think well of me."
A little gleam of comprehension came into Maccario's dark eyes. "Still,"
he said slowly, "the Sin Verguenza will be remembered, and you with
them."
Then a man leading two mules on which their baggage was strapped came
up, and Maccario held out his hand.
"Good-bye," said Appleby simply. "I shall hope for your prosperity."
He laid his foot in the stirrup, and Maccario swept off his hat.
"While there is one of the Sin Verguenza left you will never be without
a friend in Cuba," he said.
Appleby swung himself to the saddle, Harper mounted clumsily, and there
was a beat of hoofs; but in a minute or two Appleby drew bridle, and
twisted himself round in his saddle. With the two church towers rising
high above it against the paling sky Santa Marta lay, still gleaming
faintly white, upon the dusky plain behind him, and he fancied he could
see Maccario standing motionless in the gap between the houses where the
last fight had been. A cheerful hum of voices and a tinkle of guitars
drifted out with a hot and musky smell from the close-packed town, and
he turned his eyes away and glanced at the tall black cross on a rise
outside the walls. Anthony Palliser of Northrop slept beneath it among
the Sin Verguenza.
Then the crash of the sunset gun rose from the cuartel, and there was a
roll of drums, the drums of the cazadores beaten by insurgent hands, and
with a little sigh Appleby shook his bridle. He could picture his
comrades laughing over their wine in the cafes, or mingling with the
light-hearted crowd in the plaza, but he would never meet their badinage
or see them sweeping through the smoke and dust again.
"It was pleasant while it lasted, and who knows what is in front of us
now?" he said.
Harper, lurching in his saddle, laughed a little. "Well," he said, "one
gets accustomed to changes in this country, and I can hear the sea."
"Then you have good ears. We may have trouble before we reach it," said
Appleby dryly.
They pushed on through the coolness of the night until the stars were
growing dim in the eastern sky, and then rested in a little aldea until
dusk came round again. The Sin Verguenza were masters of the country
round Santa Marta, but sympathies were as yet divided in the region
between it and the sea, and Appleby decided that it was advisable to
travel circumspectly. Events proved him right, for two days later they
narrowly avoided an encounter with a company of loyalist troops, and
spent the next week lying close by day, and plodding by bypaths through
the cane at night, while it became evident to both of them that they
would never have reached the coast without the credentials with which
Maccario had supplied them.
They found it was watched by gunboats when at last they reached a lagoon
among the mangrove swamps, and were assured that it would be perilous to
attempt to get on board a steamer in any of the ports. A small vessel
with arms was expected, but when Appleby heard that she might not arrive
for a month, and perhaps land her freight somewhere else, he decided to
buy a fishing barquillo and put to sea at once. Harper concurred in
this, and said there was little doubt that they would intercept one of
the steamers from Havana.
The night was clearer than they cared about when with the big latine set
they slipped out of the lagoon, but the land breeze which was blowing
fresh, drove steamy vapors across the moon and it was almost dark when
they reeled into the white surf on the bar. They went through it
shipping water at every plunge, Harper sitting high on the boat's
quarter with his hand on the tiller and the sheet of the latine round
his other wrist, while Appleby crouched among the ballast and bailed.
Then the sea grew smooth again, save for the little white ripples made
by the hot breeze, and Appleby, standing up ankle-deep in water, looked
about him.
The mangroves lay behind him, a dusky blur streaked with a thick white
steam which trailed out in long wisps across the sea that heaved blackly
beneath the boat. Then the trees were blotted out as she ran into a
denser belt of mist that was heavy with a hot, sour smell, and there was
nothing to be seen but a strip of shining water shut in by sliding haze
when she came out again. Appleby glanced at the froth that swirled past
the gunwale, and turned to Harper.
"She is travelling fast, and we should be clear of the land by sunrise,"
he said.
Harper glanced up at the moon. "If it had been darker it would have
suited me just as well," he said. "The trouble is that if a gunboat came
along you wouldn't see her in the mist."
"Still, that should cut both ways."
Harper shook his head. "It's not easy to make a boat out until you're
close up with her, but you can see a steamer quite a long way off," he
said.
Appleby said nothing further for a while, and the boat's gunwale became
level with the froth that splashed about it, for the breeze freshened as
they drew out from the land. A thin wisp of haze had stretched across
the moon and dimmed the silvery light, but there was a wide strip of
faintly shining water in front of them when he fancied he caught a
faint, pulsating sound.
"You hear it?" he said.
"Oh yes," said Harper dryly. "It's a steamer's engines. I kind of fancy
she's outside of us."
They strained their ears to listen, but it is difficult to locate a
sound among belts of haze, and when at last the measured throbbing was
unpleasantly distinct Harper held up his hand.
"They're shoving her along, and she's not far away, but that's 'bout all
I know," he said. "Get forward, and drop the latine."
Appleby did as he was bidden, and stood staring forward in the bows when
the sail came down. The boat lay plunging on the heave that was streaked
with flecks of froth, and there was a long trail of sliding haze not far
away from them. From out of it came the sound of water parting under
iron bows. Then two tall spars that swung a little rose out of the
vapor, and next moment a blur of shadowy hull grew into visibility. It
lengthened rapidly, a smear of smoke streamed across the sea, but there
was no blink of light beneath it, and with the froth piled up at her
bows the vessel came down upon them, portentous in her blackness and
silence.
"A gunboat sure!" said Harper. "Lie down."
Appleby crouched at the foot of the mast with straining eyes. He could
see the long black strip of hull swing with the heave until all the
deck, which caught a flash of the dim moonlight, was visible. Then it
swung back with slanted spars and funnel, and there was a white frothing
about the tip of the lifted screw. It was evident that the gunboat would
pass them unpleasantly close, and already the black shape of the man
upon her forecastle was discernible against the sky, while hazy figures
upon her slanting bridge grew into sharper form, and it seemed to
Appleby that they could scarcely escape observation. Still, a boat lying
low on the dusky water is difficult to see, and while he held his breath
the war vessel drew abreast of them.
The roar of flung-up water and the pounding of engines throbbed about
him, he could see a man upon the inclined deck clutch at something as
she rolled, and now the funnel was level with him and a strip of
streaming plates was lifted from the brine. It swept by, there was a
swirl and a thudding beneath the lifted stern, and then the steamer grew
dimmer while the boat lurched on the wake of throbbing screw.
"Now," said Harper with a little gasp, "when you can get the latine up
we'll go on again."
It cost Appleby an effort to hoist the thrashing sail, but when it was
set and the sheet hauled aft Harper laughed softly as the boat swung
away buoyantly with her gunwales dipping in the foam.
"We'll be in the steamboat track by sun-up, and there'll be no wind
then," he said. "Considering that each time you see a trail of smoke you
may have to pull two or three miles, it would be kind of sensible to
sleep when you can."
Appleby lay down on the wet floorings with an old sail over him, and for
a time felt the swift swing of the little craft, and heard the gurgling
swirl of brine, for the breeze she sped before was now breaking the
heave into splashing seas. Then he became oblivious to everything save
when a little shower of spray blew into his face. At last he fancied
that Harper was trying to stir him with his foot, and blinked at him
vacantly, until Harper kicked him harder.
"Get up!" he said.
There was a tone in his voice which roused Appleby suddenly, and
standing up he stared about him.
"Another gunboat?" he said.
"Look!" said Harper, pointing with his hand. "It can't do much good, but
you may as well get the sail off her."
Appleby swung round, and saw that the moon was dim and low, though a
faint light still shone down upon the white-flecked sea. Then he made
out a black smear that moved across it amidst a turmoil of foam and a
haze of smoke. It grew larger while he watched it, and there was a red
streak of flame from one of the two funnels that took shape rapidly, but
he could see no masts or hull, and the speed with which the smoke haze
was coming on appeared incredible. Then he sprang forward, and lowered
the latine into the boat.
"A big torpedo boat, or a destroyer," said Harper. "She'll pass 'bout
quarter of a mile off, and we're going to make nothing by running away
from her. It's just a question whether they see us or not."
The dim shape had grown clearer while he spoke, and a strip of something
black appeared between the smoke cloud and the piled-up froth. Then a
slender whip of mast stood out against the sky, and from the crown of
the after funnel there poured another gush of flame. The craft was
almost level with them now, but it was evident that in another minute or
two she would have passed and be fading again, and Appleby felt his
heart throb painfully as he watched her. Then the white wash about her
seemed to swirl higher, funnels and mast slanted sharply, and the half-
seen hull shortened. Appleby looked at Harper, who made a little gesture
of resignation.
"Yes," he said. "They've seen us. She's coming round."
A moment later a whistle rang out, and while Appleby sat down grim in
face the white wave that frothed about the stranger's hull grew less
noticeable. The smoke cloud also sank a little, and in a minute or two
more a strip of lean black hull slid smoothly past them. Then he gasped
as a voice came down across the waters.
"Boat ahoy? Get your oars out, and pull up alongside," it said.
They had the balanced sweeps out in a moment, and pulled with a will,
while when they reached the craft that lay waiting them an officer stood
by an opening in her rail. He spoke to them in Castilian, but Harper
laughed, for he had recognized his uniform.
"I've no use for that talk," he said. "Get your ladder over!"
It was done, and in another moment he and Appleby stood on the torpedo
boat's deck, where a couple of officers stared at them.
"Since you're not Cubans, where were you going in that boat?" said one.
"I guess you'd better take us right along to your commander," said
Harper. "Aren't you going to shake hands with a countryman, anyway?"
The officer laughed. "I'll wait," he said dryly, "until I've heard what
you have to say. Didn't you make your boat fast before you left her?"
"No, sir," said Harper. "We have no more use for her. We're coming along
with you."
"Well, I guess we can pick her up again if that doesn't suit our
commander," said the officer.
He led them aft to a little cabin, and left them there until a young
officer came in. He sat down on the opposite side of the little table
and looked at them.
"You haven't the appearance of Cubans, in spite of your clothes," he
said. "Now, I'll ask you for a straight tale. What brought you off the
land in a boat of that kind?"
"A wish to get as far away from Cuba by sunrise as we could," said
Appleby.
"What did you want to get out of Cuba for?"
"Is there any special reason why I should tell you?" asked Appleby, who
was a trifle nettled.
"It seems to me there is. Anyway, back you go into your boat unless you
satisfy me."
Appleby looked at the man a moment, and was pleasantly impressed, in
spite of the abruptness of his manner. He had a quiet bronzed face and
steady eyes, while the faint ring of command in his voice did not seem
out of keeping with them.
"Then if you will listen for a minute or two I will try to tell you," he
said.
"Quick as you can!"
Appleby spoke rapidly, disregarding Harper, who seemed anxious to tell
the story too, and the commander nodded.
"Who is the American that employed you?" he said.
"Cyrus P. Harding."
The commander, who started, cast a swift glance at him, and then rising
abruptly signed to a man at the door.
"Tell Lieutenant Stalker he may go ahead, as we were steering, full
speed," he said.
The man went away, and in another moment or two the frail hull quivered
until the deck beams rattled above them. Then while the splash of flung-
off water swelled into a deep pulsating sound it seemed to leap onward
under them, and the commander sat down again, looking at Appleby with a
curious little smile in his eyes.
"I haven't asked your name yet, and scarcely think it's necessary," he
said. "So far as my duty permits, you can count upon my doing everything
I can to meet your wishes, Mr. Appleby."
Appleby stared at him. "I appreciate your offer, though I don't quite
understand it yet," he said.
"Well," said the commander with a pleasant laugh, "my name is Julian
Savine, and I have been hoping that I should come across you for a long
while. It is quite likely you have heard Miss Harding mention me."
Appleby felt the blood creep into his face, and recognized that this was
the last thing he could have wished for, but he met Savine's gaze
steadily.
"I have," he said slowly. "I fancy Miss Harding has shown herself a good
friend to me."
Savine stretched out a brown hand. "Well," he said, "I hope you will
also count me in. And now, if you will excuse me, I have something to
tell my lieutenant. In the meanwhile I'll send the steward along."
He went out, and Harper grinned at Appleby. "That," he said
reflectively, "is the kind of man we raise in my country. He has heard
about the night you took her in. The question is how much did Miss
Harding know or think fit to tell him?"
"Yes," said Appleby grimly, "it is just that point which is worrying
me."
The steward brought them in a meal, but it was a little while before
Savine appeared again. He opened a box of cigars, and though he said
nothing that seemed to indicate that Harper's company was not altogether
necessary the latter rose.
"I guess I'll go out and see how she's getting along," he said.
Then there was a little silence, until Appleby glanced at the commander.
"I have been thinking hard during the last half-hour, and I am now going
to tell you exactly what happened on the night I met Miss Harding in
Santa Marta," he said. "I scarcely think you have heard it in quite the
same shape before, and I was not sure that it would have been altogether
advisable a little while ago."
"I don't know that it is necessary. Still, you might go on."
Appleby told his story with almost brutal frankness, and then looked the
commander in the eyes.
"If you have the slightest doubt on any point you may never have such an
opportunity of getting rid of it again," he said.
Savine smiled a little, though there was the faintest tinge of darker
color in his bronzed cheek.
"I never had any, and now there is nothing I could do which would quite
wipe out the obligation I feel I am under to you," he said.
He stopped with a curious little gleam in his eyes, and Appleby felt
that he had made another friend who would not fail him. Then he turned
the conversation, and Savine told him that he was engaged on special
service on the Cuban coast when he saw the boat and decided to intercept
her in the hope of acquiring information. Hostilities were certain, but
he hoped to put his guests on board a steamer he expected to fall in
with on the morrow.