A STERN CHASE.
When Hildegarde cried out in such evident dismay upon discovering that
I was bleeding more or less profusely from some miserable cut on the
head, my first sensation, strange as it may seem, was one of pleasure.
That she should care at all whether I suffered was a singular thing in
itself, for people do not usually interest themselves in those for whom
they profess to entertain a feeling of scorn that at least borders on
hatred.
This feeling was only too transitory, a fleeting glimpse, as it were,
of that Paradise, the doors of which were shut against me forever.
Then came the speedy reaction.
Of course, it was at the sight of blood she was dismayed; women seldom
can see it without more or less alarm; and, besides, it had dabbled the
side of her dress--my blood, shed for her, but, alas, shed in vain!
“It’s too bad. I’m sorry it stained your dress; really, I didn’t know
I was hurt,” I managed to stammer, in some confusion, for the sudden
change in thought that it was the gown and not my condition which
caused her dismay gave me a bad turn.
There was not time for further conversation.
We had reached the water front at last, thank goodness! and now for a
change of base.
Just as I had pictured in my mind, there was the noble harbor, with the
little waves shimmering in the soft starlight, and lapping the shore
with that slumberous murmur so pleasing to the romantic soul.
Eagerly I threw my gaze far out upon the bay to where I had last seen
my yacht.
Her anchorage had not been changed, and her lights were plainly
visible; indeed, it seemed to me she was unusually illuminated.
A cry from Robbins drew my attention to another quarter:
“A steamer in port! Arrived after sundown!”
Sure enough, not a great distance away from the yacht, other lights
could be seen, indicating the huge, black hulk of a steamer at anchor.
Then I was able to give something of a guess as to why the yacht was
illuminated. I had been expecting visitors to join me here, and the
steamer had arrived in unusually quick time, ahead of her schedule.
Those were matters that gave me very little concern just then.
A man cannot be expected to take much notice of future social
engagements when a noisy pack of enraged citizens is in full cry at
his heels--and they were coming along in quite fine style, I assure
you, a genuine mob, such as I had read about in stories of Paris under
the Reign of Terror, men and women vying with each other in the savage
shout of:
“_Muerta los Gringoes!_”
It was rather thrilling, but decidedly unpleasant, all the same.
What we wanted now was a boat, and we needed it badly, too.
Little we cared what kind of a boat it was, so long as it would
comfortably hold the crowd and allow of decent progress through the
water.
There was none at the exact spot where we burst upon the shore.
Hence, it became necessary that we keep up our jog trot until we met
the object of which we were in search.
In starting along the water line, we were careful to head toward the
levee, where the business of the port was carried on, passengers and
freight landed from steamers, and where any number of boats of all
sizes and descriptions would be found, day and night.
On the other hand, had we turned to the left, we might have run less
chance of meeting opposition, but, all the same, our opportunities for
finding a craft would be smaller.
At the time Hildegarde cried out upon discovering blood upon her gown,
I had hastily withdrawn my supporting arm.
Without the assistance I had given her, she made poor progress, indeed,
so that I was forced to once more encircle her waist; the mischief had
already been done, and it could not be made worse.
A shout from Robbins--a shout that gave me sudden pleasure, for it
seemed to prophesy good news.
I saw him rush forward and bend over some dark object on the beach.
It was a boat!
Alas! there was no sign of oars, or any other propelling power, and,
without these, what folly to think of going upon the great bay.
We could not linger to lament our wretched fortune; already the leaders
of the pursuing mob had come stringing out from among the houses, and
were even now chasing along the strand.
Better luck next time. Because one boat proved unavailable was no
reason for despair.
There would be a number of them presently, and it would be a singular
thing on this still night if we did not find one already in the water,
ready for use.
I knew a spot where we always landed from the yacht, and there I felt
positive of discovering just what we sought.
Ha! Another dark object hove in sight, but this time Robbins did not
shout--one disappointment had made him shy.
It was just as well, for, while this boat was equipped with oars, it
was far too small to hold the four of us.
Here Robbins and I had a very brief clash, springing from a bit of
brief generosity on his part.
“Two can go--you and the lady,” he said; “even the child might squeeze
in.”
“And you?” I demanded.
“I’ll take my chances farther on,” was the unabashed reply.
“I’ll see you--in Guinea first! Just gallop along; and, remember, we
sink or swim together.”
Robbins was forced to give in, but he did hate to lose this chance of
sending us to safety; no doubt he knew from the tone of my voice that I
was accustomed to having my own way, and wouldn’t be balked.
But I never could forget the brave fellow’s genuine, disinterested
generosity, though I would see him even farther than Guinea ere I would
accept his sacrifice.
We were again on the jump.
These two disappointments were serious in more than one way.
They aroused false hopes, and at the same time allowed our pursuers to
draw nearer, for while we halted they continued to advance, eager to
close with the Gringoes who had created such an uproar in Bolivar this
night of the flower feast.
No doubt they were very anxious to make our acquaintance at short
range; the rumor that a glittering reward for our apprehension, dead
or alive, by the worthy alcalde had permeated their ranks and enthused
them with the most ardent zeal.
On our part, we respectfully declined the honor of an introduction,
and were even more anxious to shake the dust of Bolivar’s metropolis
from our shoes than they were to have us depart hence.
We were now drawing close to the wooden landing stage.
Here, I felt positive, we must find what we sought; but, should this
prove a fallacy, then was our finish in sight.
At least, I seemed to feel a grim sort of humor in the fact that
Hildegarde would realize my worth when I had departed hence.
She could not have gone much farther, I am positive; that had been a
killing pace for the little woman; surely, something she had never done
before, and might never again have to undertake during the whole course
of her natural life.
I could feel her becoming more and more a dead weight on my arm.
At length, just as we drew near the stage, her feet lagged, and then
utterly refused to move.
She looked up at me almost piteously, and never shall I forget the
expression of her face as I beheld it in the cold starlight.
“Leave me! oh! leave me, and save yourself, Morgan!” she whispered,
having no breath for more.
“No, I’ll be d---- if I do!” I cried, almost savagely, and with that
I snatched her up as though she were an infant, and thus laden, I
pattered out on the landing stage.
Already I heard Robbins cheering, and I knew he had struck a bonanza.
This renewed my strength, for there is no incentment in this world
equal to newly aroused hope.
I had already scented more trouble.
Robbins had not found the quay deserted, for I could see several
figures besides his out yonder.
These I knew to be native boatmen, anxious to find trade, since a
steamer had anchored in the harbor.
They were, as a rule, rough fellows, eager to earn a real at any time,
but, if inclined to be ugly, would make bad customers.
When I arrived, I found Robbins already at loggerheads with the fellows.
Through Carmencita, he had endeavored to hire one of them to take us to
the yacht.
Ordinarily, the men would have jumped at the opportunity to earn a fat
fee, but they seemed to realize that something out of the usual run was
in the wind, and they “hung in stays”--that is, refused to come about
to our way of thinking.
Probably their quick ears must have caught what it was their
compatriots on the beach were shouting as they ran along, and thus knew
of the dazzling reward that had been offered for our apprehension.
Really, the case was one that demanded heroic treatment.
There were three of the boatmen--big, hulking chaps all, and could they
delay us only a few minutes, all was lost.
I grasped the situation as fully as though it were spread before me in
illuminated text.
And I knew that promptness alone could save us such a crisis.
My first act was to gently deposit my burden upon the planks of the
landing stage, after which I laid hold upon the little argument I
carried in a back pocket.
Robbins was ahead of me.
One of the boatmen, itching to possess some of that dazzling reward,
had reached out and actually laid his dirty hand on the mate.
Talk about your catapults of olden days that hurled huge stones
against the gate of citadel or fortress, they could not have gotten
in their insidious work with greater effect than did the mate of the
_Pathfinder_.
I saw the big boatman suddenly double up, after the manner of a
hinge--at the same time he seemed propelled through space, vanished in
blackness beyond the end of the platform, and immediately a tremendous
splash announced his safe arrival below.
It was now my turn to take command.
“Put the ladies in a boat, and be quick about it, Robbins. I’ll keep
these chaps in check. Sing out when you’re ready!” I cried.
The other boatmen had recoiled when they saw the starlight gleam
wickedly from the blue barrel of the revolver with which I confronted
them.
“Get out! run! or you are dead men! _Vamos--muerta!_” I shouted.
They comprehended the menacing action, if not my elegant phraseology,
and began to back away from such dangerous quarters.
Still, they were ugly and treacherous customers.
It was my desire to have more of their room and less of their company
about the time I must jump into the boat.
The crowd had almost reached the quay, and in thirty seconds all would
be lost; but in good time I heard Robbins’ cheery voice over the edge
of the stringpiece shouting:
“Ready, Morgan! Jump for it, man!”
And I jumped.