Later that night, Gale returned to San Cristobal very well satisfied
with himself and his evening’s work. He had every reason to believe
that he carried in his pocket the photographic proof of President
Felix’s incarceration in El Torro fortress; for he deemed it
exceedingly unlikely that Hawley would have ventured to take the flash
light unless he had found Felix; and, as for the picture turning out
successfully, knowing the Camera Chap’s skill as a snapshotter and
his ability to get results, even under the most unfavorable technical
conditions, the _News_ man felt sanguine on that score.
He thrilled with anticipatory joy as he pictured to himself the glory
which would be his when his paper should startle the world by launching
his big photographic scoop. But keen though he was to have the film
developed, he felt constrained to postpone that detail for a few days.
He did not possess the necessary knowledge or materials with which to
do the work himself, and, although there were a couple of studios in
San Cristobal which made a specialty of doing developing and printing
for amateur photographers, he was afraid to trust the precious film to
them, particularly as they were run by natives who might recognize the
subject of his picture. So he decided to wait until he got to New York
and have the negative developed by the experts in the _Daily News_
office.
There was a boat leaving Puerto Cabero for New York the following
morning, and he resolved to book passage on her. His work being done,
there was nothing now to keep him in Baracoa, except possibly his
desire to wait to see what was going to happen to the Camera Chap. It
would have filled his mean, malicious soul with joy to be able to go
back to Park Row and boast to “the boys” that he had been a personal
eyewitness of the snapshot adventurer’s fate, but he put the temptation
aside, resolved to subordinate pleasure to duty. He realized the
necessity of getting the picture of Felix to his paper as speedily as
possible.
Before he sailed, however, he at least had the satisfaction of learning
definitely what his rival’s fate was to be. Justice in Baracoa, under
the Portiforo administration, was swift--on occasions. The country
being under martial law on account of the revolution, the case of the
Camera Chap and Lieutenant Ridder, of the United States navy, was
tried before a military court. The court convened that morning, and,
after less than an hour’s deliberation, arrived at a verdict that the
interests of the government of Baracoa demanded that capital punishment
should be the fate of both prisoners, and that the sentence of the
court should be carried out within twenty-four hours.
When Minister Throgmorton heard of these verdicts he hurried to the
palace and held a long conference with the president. After his visit,
it was officially announced that the government of Baracoa had decided
to pardon one of the two American prisoners. The man who was to receive
clemency, it was stated, was Lieutenant Ridder. Although his offense
was grievous, President Portiforo was disposed to be magnanimous, and
if the state department at Washington would give its assurance that the
young man would be dishonorably dismissed from the United States navy,
he would be allowed to go free within a few days.
In the case of Señor Hawley, however, the government of Baracoa
announced there could be no deviation from the sentence of the court.
This was the second time he had offended, and President Portiforo felt
that he must be made an example of, “as a lesson to all those who
espoused the revolutionary cause.”
Virginia was in despair when she heard the tidings from her father. “I
have done my best,” the latter assured her. “I have argued and pleaded
with President Portiforo on behalf of Hawley, but find it impossible to
persuade him to mitigate the sentence of that unfortunate young man.”
“Couldn’t you have got him to postpone the carrying out of the sentence
for a few days?” the girl said bitterly. “That would have given us time
to do something.”
The diplomat shook his head. “I did my best,” he repeated. “Portiforo
positively refused to grant even a stay of execution in Hawley’s case.
I had great difficulty in persuading him to extend clemency to Ridder,
and that was the most that I was able to accomplish. He was absolutely
obdurate as regards the other prisoner. He informed me that he wouldn’t
grant any mercy to Hawley, even if the President of the United States
were to ask it of him as a personal favor.”
He viewed his daughter’s distress with solicitude. “I am extremely
sorry, my dear,” he said gently; “although I am not favorably impressed
with Mr. Hawley, and still less so with the odious yellow journal he
represents. I should have liked to get him out of his scrape, for your
sake--now that you have confided to me the depth of your feeling toward
him.”
Preceding Minister Throgmorton’s visit to the palace, Virginia, in
her desire to save the Camera Chap, had laid bare to her father the
innermost secret of her heart. He had been amazed by the revelation. He
had known all along, of course, of the friendship that existed between
her and Hawley, but inasmuch as they had known each other only a few
weeks, he had not suspected the full extent of her regard for the
photographic adventurer. His daughter’s happiness being more to him
than any other consideration, he had put aside his own prejudices and
really had done his utmost to persuade his friend Portiforo to spare
Hawley’s life.
“There is just one concession that I was able to wring from the
president,” the minister now announced. “It isn’t much, my poor girl,
but it may give you a little comfort: He has consented to permit you
to see the prisoner. Personally, my dear, I would advise against your
availing yourself of this privilege. Such a meeting, I fear, would only
add to your distress. However, I will permit you to follow your own
wishes in the matter. If you desire to go to the prison, here is a
pass which the president made out for you.”
Virginia took the paper from him with pathetic eagerness, and less than
five minutes later she was speeding on her way to the fortress.
The meeting between her and the president’s photographic envoy took
place under somewhat disadvantageous circumstances. Two of the prison
officials insisted on being present during the interview, and Virginia
was not allowed to enter the cell; she had to converse with the
condemned man through the bars.
She found the Camera Chap apparently resigned to his fate. His face was
pale and haggard, but he bore himself with a cheerfulness that amazed
her, great as was her estimate of his courage.
“Brace up, little girl,” he said gently, putting out his hand to her
through the bars. “You mustn’t take it like that, you know. Things
haven’t turned out exactly as pleasant as we had hoped,” he continued,
with a whimsical smile, “but I assure you that I am not a bit sorry I
came to Baracoa. If I hadn’t, I should never have had the privilege
of knowing you, and I assure you that blessed privilege is ample
compensation for--whatever is coming my way later on.”
Presently he inquired of the two prison officials whether he would be
permitted to dispose of some of his personal effects as keepsakes, and
they told him that there would be no objection to this proceeding,
which was a privilege always granted to condemned prisoners.
Eagerly he drew from his finger a seal ring, and handed it to
Virginia. “I ask you to be good enough to wear this as a souvenir of
our friendship,” he said. He smiled ruefully. “I had hoped to present
it to you under more favorable circumstances. And there is one other
favor I would beg of you to grant: I have a friend in New York who, I
feel sure, would be glad to receive a keepsake from me. Tom Paxton,
managing editor of the New York _Sentinel_, has always admired this
tobacco pouch of mine.” He took from his pocket a leather pouch of
unique design. “I would like him to have it. It isn’t much, but I
know he will appreciate the circumstances under which it is given.
Yes,” he repeated, with peculiar emphasis, “I am quite sure he will
appreciate the circumstances. Would you mind seeing that he gets it,
Miss Throgmorton?”
As the girl took the pouch which he held to her, she noted an
expression on Hawley’s face which puzzled her.
It was not until she had arrived at the boat landing at Puerto Cabero
that a suspicion of the truth dawned upon her mind. With a sudden
thrill of hope, she opened the leather wallet with frantic eagerness,
and an exclamation of delight escaped from her lips. Underneath a thin
covering of granulated tobacco, the pouch contained a small cylindrical
article, the nature of which Virginia immediately recognized. It was a
light-proof roll of film from a small pocket camera.