STRANDED.
It was a dreadful moment when this paralyzing fear beset me--when it
seemed as though the sun were hidden once more behind the black tempest
clouds, and the atmosphere possessed a coldness that penetrated to my
very marrow.
Dead!--my Hildegarde, and just when I had found her--when our hearts
had been brought together after this weary separation--dead, and I held
only the beautiful clay in my arms, the spirit having taken its upward
flight.
Bitter indeed were my feelings while I crouched there, pressing her
close to me.
Had I not declared she would be saved or else I must meet death with
her? Then how dared I live when she was no more?
There was the sea, hungry for more victims.
A wild yearning to rush back into its embrace, with Hildegarde in my
arms, took possession of me--for the moment I could not be accounted
responsible for my actions.
Already I held her, and as if to take my farewell of this one so well
beloved I bent down and kissed her again.
That was the saving stroke--I felt, or fancied I did, an answering
pressure, light as the petal of a blossom that falls to the ground; but
it sent a quick galvanic shock through my entire system.
Oh! Heaven be praised, she lived!--there was even a chance that I might
restore her.
Again I set to work with an energy born not of despair now, but eager
hope--again I made use of every device I had ever seen tried by which
those almost drowned might be restored.
God was good--she moved, she sighed, she opened her blue eyes and
looked with gentle love at me.
I was wild with delight.
One moment I capered upon the sand, like a Fiji Islander at a victory
feast--then kneeling I took her in my arms and pressed her against my
heart as though I would through personal contact enthuse her with a
portion of the life and vigor that abounded so plentifully in my own
system.
Hildegarde recovered rapidly.
Perhaps nature was assisted by the consciousness of our new-found
happiness, for the way in which her little hand would now and then
close eagerly on mine when I was chafing it, told that she had not
forgotten what had happened just before we were hurled from the
breaking wreck.
So she became herself again, the color slowly came back to her white
cheeks, and life once more took up its sway; but it would always give
me a shudder to think how perilously near the borderland of eternity my
Hildegarde had been.
Now we could even begin to think of others.
Were we the only survivors of the wreck--Gustavus, Diana, Robbins,
Carmencita, Cummings, had they all been drowned?
It was a fearful thought.
The air, though not cold, was more or less cutting to us who were
completely soaked through, and as I saw the little woman shiver, I
bestirred myself to make some move looking toward a betterment of our
fortunes.
First we must get back of the sand dunes, where the wind might fail to
reach us.
I assisted Hildegarde to her feet.
She was very weak, but growing in strength with each passing minute;
all might be well if we could only manage to dry our bedraggled
garments in some way.
One last eager look I cast up and down the beach, but not a living
soul could I discover--far away some object lay upon the sand, which I
suspected might be a body, but I dared not take Hildegarde there, and
would not for the world leave her just then; the living had even more
need of my services than the sacred dead.
In the distance I discovered trees, among them many stately
palmettos--this gave me an idea which promised much.
In one of my pockets I always carried matches--they were in what was
called a waterproof safe, and if one out of the lot could be induced to
strike fire we would soon have a glorious blaze, before which we might
find good cheer, and a chance to dry our garments.
So we trudged on--the exercise did us good in more ways than one, since
it stirred up our blood, after the harrowing experience in the cold
grasp of the sea.
For myself I cared naught--I was a man and had buffeted hard fortune
many a time, so that I knew how to take things as they came; but I felt
a wonderful pity for the brave little woman at my side, knowing how
rough it was on her.
I kept an arm around her, and many times managed to give assistance.
We talked as we slowly neared the trees--talked of many things that
concerned us, for there were to be no longer any secrets between those
whom Heaven had so miraculously reunited; both of us were ashamed of
the past, we each tried to shoulder most of the blame, and ended by
mutual forgiveness.
I had to stop and ratify the contract with a few fond kisses, while her
face grew luminous with delight.
Strange how selfish human nature is. There we could talk of happiness
when perchance our friends lay upon the fatal beach, cheated out of
even life itself. But what could you expect of an almost helpless
wayfarer who had been kept out of paradise for years? To such a man
there is excuse for many things when an angel opens the gate and
invites him in.
Now and again I could see Hildegarde look pained, and I knew what
brought the shadow upon her face; she remembered Diana, the coquettish
beauty, for whom her last gleam of jealousy had gone forth, and the
thought of the cruel fate that had come upon the bride of a year hurt
her cruelly.
I did not dare allow myself to think upon the matter at all--time
enough for self-reproaches and bitter regrets when she was in safety;
until then my every faculty belonged to her.
At length we reached the trees.
I saw that Hildegarde suffered on account of the weight of her soaked
garments, and I insisted on carrying her the last hundred yards,
despite her protests. Finding me obdurate she gave in, and as if to
make the burden as light as possible locked her hands around my neck.
Ye gods! such was the fierce happiness that gave me artificial strength
I could have staggered a full mile thus; it was as though I had
partaken of a magic elixir that nerved me to wonderful deeds of valor,
for love works amazing things.
Once under the trees I set her down on a grassy knoll, and proceeded to
gather many of the dead leaves from the palmetto.
These, with their long, dried stems, make wonderful torches, that give
out fierce heat.
Now for the matches.
I rubbed the box dry, snapped it open and to my joy found the contents
perfectly preserved.
Immediately a blaze sprang up, increasing to a roar, and Hildegarde,
approaching, held out her chilled hands approvingly to the heat.
My duty in keeping up the fire caused me to be almost constantly on the
jump, but our garments steamed and soon we began to feel better.
I began to consider our situation.
Where were we--on what coast, and how near civilization? I had money
with me, but no means of defense against wild animals save a knife.
Looking back and cudgeling my brains to do a little figuring, I reached
the conclusion that after changing our course we must have come back
about as far as we had gone the other way.
Consequently the chances were we might have been wrecked upon the
coast of Tobasco, and not a great distance from that wicked though gay
capital, Berlin.
Now, I had pretty good and substantial reasons for never wanting to see
old Bolivar again--there were those in the Central American metropolis
who owed me a grudge, and a pretty healthy one at that, which they
would be only too glad to pay.
Indeed, I had myself sworn a pretty stiff vow to visit every other
quarter of the earth before thinking of setting foot again in this, the
scene of my recent adventures; but so little do we know of what the
future holds in store for us, that here I was on Tobasco soil again
inside of thirty hours, and mighty well pleased to be there, too.
If necessary I was even willing to take chances and enter
Bolivar--Hildegarde would require attention and a change of
clothing--we could act cautiously, and keep our presence secret,
watching a chance to slip on board some American fruit steamer and thus
escape.
Oh! I felt bold enough to dare almost anything now that I had my own
to battle for; life was worth living, the world seemed little short of
heaven, and nothing daunted me.
We had been drying ourselves more than an hour before the hot fire when
I heard voices, and saw two men approaching.
They were the ordinary half-breed natives, growers of bananas, perhaps.
I called to them in Spanish and they approached.
Then I told them we had been washed ashore from a vessel wrecked in the
recent storm, and asked for shelter until we could proceed to the city.
Upon inquiry I found Bolivar was only a few miles away, just as I
suspected.
The men looked surprised--I wondered why they exchanged such strange
glances; but their invitation to provide for us was hearty enough.
So we slowly accompanied them to their cabin, which was a good mile
away.
Here, amid the great green fronds of a banana plantation, we found a
wretched hovel, with a woman in charge.
Hildegarde was worn out--she only wanted to get a cup of coffee and eat
a ripe banana, when, dropping upon a home-made cane chair, she fell
into the sleep of exhaustion.
I was ready to give in, too, but first I wished to talk with the men,
interest them in the fate of my comrades, and promise a reward if they
brought any of the poor fellows, dead or alive, to the cabin, the price
to be doubled if they lived.
They were profuse in their manifestations of almost servile willingness
to carry out my ideas, and hurried away toward the beach.
Alas! I did not know the treacherous character of these miserable
half-breeds, who unite the very worst qualities of the two races they
represent.
So I, too, settled myself in a chair, utterly tired out. I must have
slept for hours, not knowing the passage of time, nor do I believe I
dreamed, such was the heaviness of my slumber.
Then suddenly I awoke; some one was shaking me. I opened my eyes in
amazement, unable to immediately comprehend what it all meant, for the
wretched little cabin was swarming with the gayly garbed soldiers of
Bolivar’s brave army, and directly in front of me I saw one whom I
had very good cause to wish at the other side of the world--in Bombay
or Cape Town, or even Cathay; anywhere but here, in fact, for in this
stout person I recognized the awful alcalde, or mayor of Bolivar.