As the yacht danced on its way to Havana, the voyagers began to take a
renewed interest in the cruise. At first the departure of four of the
party caused a dignified silence, particularly as Elizabeth Dalken’s
going had been brought about by her recent disgrace and her father’s
intense displeasure. It created rather an uncomfortable feeling when the
guests all went on deck that noon.
John Baxter and his chum decided that this atmosphere must be dispelled
immediately, hence they began their self-appointed task and soon had
every one merry and eager to forget the unpleasantness of the previous
night’s experience.
Havana proved to be a great fund of excitement and fun for the young
members in the party; John Baxter had spent several weeks in that
hospitable city and knew just where to go and what to see, hence the day
was given to every kind of sightseeing. That evening Jack returned his
party to the yacht, and proposed another visit to the city on the
morrow. Mr. Dalken listened.
“They’re going to have one of their famous horse races at the big course
to-morrow, Dalky, and I told your guests that it would be well worth
seeing. Even if they do not bet on the horses, they will enjoy seeing
the stunts the natives do in order to get in first. Let’s tie up to this
wharf until to-morrow night, instead of going on our way to-night.”
As the vote showed the majority were inclined to stop over for the
races, the Captain was notified that the yacht would not resume her trip
until the next evening.
That night, after dinner had been enjoyed on deck, Mr. Dalken proposed a
stroll through the “White Light Way” of Havana. This was received with
acclaim and in another moment the ladies were gone for their hats and
light evening wraps. Soon all were walking up the street leading from
the pier, and eagerly discussing the change in the looks of the city by
night.
Half the people they met were visitors from the States, and most of
those were from New York, or the large cities of the Atlantic coast
states. Everywhere on bill-boards, on walls of buildings, and up high on
the roofs of houses, the advertising of the morrow’s horse racing was
posted. Now and then the men in the party were accosted and invited to
book their wagers for the races. But Mr. Dalkin shook his head and
advised John and Ray to refuse all offers to double and triple their
gains by booking that night.
After visiting many interesting places, the yacht-party entered a famous
cafe for supper. Dancing in all of its wildest and most sensuous forms
was demonstrated by Spanish beauties with little idea of propriety; the
very abandon of their poses and the flashing glances they sent the
American men in the visiting parties proved how faint were the ties that
held them to respectability.
“Shall we try a dance?” asked Jack Baxter of Polly. She glanced at Mrs.
Courtney with a questioning expression.
“Better not, Jack. These dancing girls and their Spanish cavaliers are
only too willing to pick an acquaintance with any one who appears to
have money. Dancing here might prepare the way for familiarity, for you
actually descend to their plane in taking the floor while they are on
it,” advised Mrs. Courtney.
“That sounds a little far-fetched, Lady Fair, but I will abide by your
commands,” laughed Jack, though he was keen to get out on the superb
floor and dance to the inspiring music.
Not five minutes later Mrs. Courtney had her quiet little revenge on
Jack for his light laugh at her advice.
Ray and Eleanor had not waited to hear Mrs. Courtney’s hint about
dancing, and had enjoyed the waltz to the utmost till the orchestra
concluded the piece. An encore loudly continued induced the musicians to
resume the waltz. But a handsome Spaniard approached Eleanor who was
standing with Ray at one end of the hall, and bowing politely offered
his arm to finish the dance with her.
Eleanor flushed confusedly and Ray haughtily stared at the daring young
man, then turned on his heel and tried to escort Eleanor to her party
which was seated at one of the balcony tables. Polly, Jack, and Mrs.
Courtney were watching the episode, and Polly murmured: “Glad I wasn’t
in Noll’s shoes! I’d have spoken my mind to the fellow.”
No sooner had Eleanor found her friends than Mrs. Courtney got up and
said: “Are we ready to return to the White Crest?”
And those who had witnessed the incident of Eleanor’s experience with
the strange Cuban man instantly followed Mrs. Courtney’s lead.
The next day proved to be one of almost unbearable tropical heat. The
tourists found it necessary to drive to the race-course in rickety old
carriages, because Jack had forgotten to engage automobiles for his
party and other American sportsmen had anticipated the demand and had
commandeered every form of auto to be found.
Mid merry jests and amused calls to each other, the girls managed to
finally dispose themselves in the worn-cushioned, shaky seats of the
century old victorias, and at last Jack decided they were ready to
start.
As these vehicles carry but few passengers at a time, it was necessary
for so large a party to have four carriages, one after the other, as in
a parade. The dark drivers grinned and displayed glistening white teeth
at the wind-fall which would come their way that day, in driving these
New Yorkers to the races.
The Dalken party was rattled along under long avenues of bamboo trees;
past crowds of native holiday makers dressed in all their gala finery,
who waved and shouted joyously at every passing vehicle; through banana
plantations where the road led over slight knolls, or down through woods
to ford a stream where the wheels of the laden carriages threatened to
sink to the hubs in sand; then up again and over a dusty road where the
heavy hoofs of the lazy horses caused choking clouds of dust to settle
upon the passengers crowded so uncomfortably in the small equipages.
Finally the leading carriage in which sat Jack and Polly, with Mrs.
Courtney as chaperone, reached a fenced in area where a number of
uniformed guards tried to keep peepers from securing their view of the
races for nothing. The darky driver knew exactly where to halt, and then
he held out his hand for his fee.
“You wait here where we can find you after the races,” said Jack,
without a move to take any money from his pocket.
“Ah, no! You get drive here, me get money for it,” retorted the driver.
“But I hired you for the entire afternoon! You have only fulfilled part
of the contract. When you deliver us at the wharf I pay in full,”
explained Jack.
Meanwhile Mr. Dalken had been having the same experience, but he paid
the fee without stopping to consider the reason for the untimely demand.
Finally, Jack’s driver capitulated and resigned himself to the
inevitable, and his three passengers hurriedly joined the rest of their
party.
Jack came up just as Mr. Dalken counted out the last bill.
“Good gracious, Dalky! Don’t tell me you paid him!” called Jack,
impatiently.
“The fellow was ready to call one of those ridiculous policemen over and
arrest me,” explained Mr. Dalken.
“He’d have done nothing of the sort! Now you will have to walk back or
crowd in with us. That rascal will hang about here until after the races
end, then pick up the highest bidder for his rickety old chaise back to
the city. If he had been made to wait for his fee he would have been too
glad to take you back as agreed upon.”
“Never mind, Dalky, you shall sit upon my knee!” laughed Eleanor,
teasingly.
“You may regret this kindly offer, Nolla, when the long dusty trip
begins,” retorted Mr. Dalken.
But further argument on the situation was interrupted by a vendor of
cocoanut juice. Closely following this peddler came a bookmaker who had
been forbidden an entrance to the course. He was sent the way of the
vendor of drinks; and then came a gayly garbed black who invited the
party to win great stakes at a new game—but it was merely a decoy of the
three-card monte gamble.
Accompanied on both sides by barkers for refreshments, by touts, and by
every sort of vendor of anything salable, the Dalken party finally found
it possible to reach the entrance gate. Soon after passing through here,
the troublesome peddlers were left behind, but a new form of buzzard
came to annoy. These were the professional bookmakers and licensed
gamblers who hoped to turn a dishonest dollar their way.
In threading a trail to the Grand Stand, Jack led his party past family
groups that sat under the trees and picnicked gayly until the gong
should call all to the roped-off line that marked the course. The Grand
Stand, painted white and decked in many-hued flags of friendly nations,
was reached after many side-steppings and turns. Here the girls found
army officers, professional men from Havana, and a tableau of
fashionably dressed women with fans and parasols galore.
As the horses were paraded past the Grand Stand, and their gayly decked
black jockeys acknowledged the waving hands and applause of the ladies
to their favorites in the race, Polly turned to Eleanor and said: “Dear
me, I wish I could bet!”
“You can,” returned Eleanor. “Let’s call Jack and tell him.”
Jack heard and grinned. “Which is your favorite, Poll?”
“See this one on the programme—his name is Will o’ the Wisp. Such a
pretty name!”
“Hoh, but he is absolutely no good!” declared Jack. “He’s only entered
because they need filling the list on that race. No one will bet on him.
The odds are ridiculous.”
“I don’t care what they say, I’m going to bet five dollars on him,”
asserted Polly.
“But, dear girl, have you seen the scrawny beast! Look out there and see
him shambling along after all the others,” argued Jack.
Polly looked. Yes, she admitted that he was a sorry-looking steed for a
race, but still she insisted upon her choice. A man was found who
laughed scornfully as he took her bet—Polly would lose her five without
a doubt. But she shook her head and said knowingly:
“No, you will be the one to lose thirty-five dollars, I’m sure!” With a
sympathetic laugh the man went his way.
Eleanor’s wager was almost as bad, because she chose her favorite on
account of appearances. The horse was beautiful, to be sure, but he had
no record and consequently no bidding in his favor.
False starts were repeatedly made, and the impatient jockeys had to come
back and begin again. Finally the judge really dropped the flag and they
were off!
Then were heard excited calls, shrill cries from anxious watchers, and,
as the horses circled the course, the tense urgings of men who had
staked all on a favorite, became more thrilling until the home lap came
in view. Then Jack’s party were treated to a real Havana picture of a
race.
The jockeys in purple and gold, green and red, pink and violet, and
other combinations of colors, sat humped over their mounts and urged
them to the utmost. Every jockey, as he neared the Grand Stand, shouted
excitedly and switched his horse into greater effort. But all eyes
seemed glued to a miracle!
Will o’ the Wisp, pitied and ridiculed at the start of the races,
carrying a faded-looking jockey who clung with his knees to the sides of
his horse but used no whip, had crept up to his leaders before half the
course had been covered. Gradually but surely he went on creeping up
until he came beside the last horse in the string. But he did not stop
there. He crept on until he had passed that horse and then left him at
the very tail of the line. One by one he came nose to nose with and then
passed all contestants in the race until he reached the leader of them
all. Just as easily as he had crept up and passed the others, so he came
on and passed the leader, and finally let himself out on the home run.
The mobs were breathless. Not a hurrah or cry of encouragement sounded
while Will O’ the Wisp nosed ahead of the favorite in the lead, but when
he loped out ahead of them all and stretched his neck to widen the
distance between the favorite and himself, the excited crowds gave vent
to one long shrill yell of delight! That was a race worth seeing, no
matter how many dollars were lost on the books!
Polly seemed to be one of a very few who had wagered anything on Will o’
the Wisp, but her friends declared she must understand horseflesh better
than they to have so quickly picked the winner.
The bookmaker who had felt sorry for the misguided girl, now came over
to pay his loss, but he wore a far different expression than one he had
expected to wear. Polly accepted her winnings with a serious manner, but
once the bookmaker was out of hearing, she said, “I really cannot keep
this money because I think it is wrong to gamble on horses that way, so
I will donate it to the Havana Hospital when we get back to town.”
As Jack had feared, when they came out of the Grand Stand and emerged
from the race-course, the jehu whom Mr. Dalken had paid off had found an
alluring fare to take home, and the three who had come out in that
vehicle found it necessary to accept the hospitality of their friends
and crowded into the already crowded surreys. However it made the ride
to the yacht all the merrier, and once the pier was reached the drivers
found it feasible to collect heavy toll for extra passengers they had
had to carry.
The tax was paid, but Jack said angrily: “I never did see such grafters
as they have in Havana. One can’t lift an eye-lash without being made to
pay for it!”
That evening the Captain continued his course along the coast of Cuba.
The wonderful air, laden with sweet perfumes of the tropical plants that
caused the indented coastline to look like a fringed garment upon the
smooth silvery waters, made the tourists feel languid and only too
willing to loll upon deck and watch the swiftly passing panorama of the
island.
The Captain planned to pass between Cuba and Hayti, to reach the harbor
at Kingston, Jamaica, the next stopping place for the travelers. But the
younger members in the party clamored for a sight of Port au Prince and
its motley citizens.
“You’ll find that Island anything but a desirable place to visit,”
objected Mr. Fabian, when he heard the plans.
“So Tom Latimer said, but we want to see the worshippers of the sacred
serpents,” said Eleanor.
“You won’t see anything of the sort,” remonstrated Mr. Dalken. “They
keep all such performances secret from civilized people. About the only
thing you will find, however, is a city rich in vice and unhealthy with
filth. You’ll see blacks and half-breeds mince along the streets dressed
in the very latest Parisian fashions, with the manners of western
outlaws, and the morals of a dive dweller.”
“In other words, my girls, a place we cannot allow you to visit,” was
Mrs. Courtney’s conclusive remark. So that settled all hope of visiting
Hayti.
Long before the yacht reached Hayti, however, the younger members of the
party were anxious to reach Kingston, where Jack described such alluring
attractions. Little coaxing was necessary to persuade Mr. Dalken to
anchor at Kingston for a few days in order to give the tourists ample
time to visit all the places worth seeing.
Then, at last, the White Crest passed within a stone’s throw of
Port-au-Prince, and leaving the Island of Hayti behind, made a straight
course for Jamaica.
Skirting along the low-lying, palm-treed shores of this beautiful isle,
the watching group on the yacht found it rather warm pastime on deck
with the tropical sun burning blisters on the hand-rails of the boat,
and reflecting in all its power the burning rays as they struck the
smooth, mirror-like sea.
Suddenly, without warning of any kind, a darkness fell and the sun
disappeared. Down came the rain in a regular deluge that sent everyone
pell mell into the saloon for shelter. The waterfall continued for about
ten minutes, then abated and suddenly, once more, the sun shone forth as
hot as ever.
Exercise was intolerable in this climate, and the guests on board the
White Crest found the only agreeable pastime to be a comfortable chair
on deck where one could watch the flying fish, the pretty little
nautilus gliding past, and the dolphin play and jump in the transparent
depths of the sea. At times a hungry shark would follow the boat,
looking for the garbage thrown out by the cook.
That night there was the last of the full moon, but what a different
moon from that as seen in New York! A few hours after sighting the
lighthouse on Morant Point, the watchers saw the first peaks of the Blue
Mountains. The yacht sped past sugar plantations, low-roofed,
silvery-white houses, glistening roads—glistening in the moonbeams—and
wonderful groves of cocoanut or banana palms whose tall fronds waved a
welcome to the girls.
Passing along six miles of the coral ridge one does not realize how near
is Kingston, hidden by the strip of reef, until, quite suddenly, you
discover the town. It is entirely hemmed in by its mountains, and on
only one side approached by the beautiful lagoon through the waters of
which the White Crest now danced to reach the mystical-looking place
situated about six miles away, at the end of the harbor.
That night the yacht made fast to a wooden quay where black-faced,
white-teethed men awaited the coming of the rich quarry. Not often did
they have such a fine craft come to Kingston, and each and every son of
the soil planned how to fleece the members of the party. But all were
doomed to disappointment for that night, as the time being almost
midnight, Mr. Dalken said no one would go ashore, until the morning.