THE HOSPITALITY OF THE ALCALDE.
We were entrapped without a doubt.
The banana planters had betrayed us, having some knowledge of what
transpired in Bolivar on the night of the flower festa, and aware of
the fat reward offered for our apprehension.
One of them had gone to the beach while the other hied him to town with
news for the alcalde.
The result was, I had an ugly awakening.
Perhaps I might have offered some show of resistance if there had been
any chance; but one man is a fool to fight against twenty--dead I would
be of no assistance to Hildegarde, while alive I could use my Yankee
brain to advantage.
I turned to look at her.
What a pitiful smile she threw me, as though she accused herself of
having brought all this horrible ill luck upon me.
I determined to keep up a brave face for her sake as well as my own,
and immediately called out some cheering words.
At any rate, while our situation might not be all we would desire, it
could have been much worse.
I thought of my gallant fellows perhaps strewn along that pitiless
beach, and somehow the remembrance made me feel more thankful.
There was an American present--a man with the face of a parson, but
whom I knew to be a cold-blooded old rascal--Hildegarde’s father, the
man for whom she had done so much, but whose avaricious soul hankered
constantly after more, and who had plotted with his colleague, the
mayor, to possess the remainder of her fortune.
What would they do with me?
I had engaged the official forces of Bolivar, my friend had tumbled
the sacred person of the mayor in the dust, and altogether I might be
looked upon as a very dangerous firebrand in the camp.
Many a man, for much less, has been stood up before a file of soldiers
and riddled with lead.
Nor was it supposable that they would allow me to communicate with our
resident consul.
My fate must be determined another way.
Somehow I did not worry very much, for I knew such lovers of golden
bait as our worthy alcalde had proven himself, all have their price.
I had immense means, and doubtless would be given a chance to buy my
liberty, on condition that they might never be made to suffer.
And Hildegarde--I would not move my little finger to save my life if
she were not considered in the deal, too.
There was no use in angering the man in whose hand my fate lay, so I
simply told him I was willing to accept of his hospitality.
My nerve somewhat staggered the old chap, but he grinned in a
self-satisfied way, and gave me to understand, in very forceful
Spanish, that I had done enough six times over to merit death, and that
he would take my case into consideration; meanwhile his soldiers had
been instructed to fill me very full of lead at the first sign on my
part of a desire for flight.
This was altogether very charming--it warmed my heart toward the worthy
alcalde.
And I saw that his soldiers would never hesitate about carrying out his
orders, if one might judge from the black looks they cast on me.
Several bore bandages--indeed, the whole squad looked as though it
had seen signal service of late, and my conscience pricked me as I
remembered how roughly we had used the boys on that night of nights.
I drew out what loose gold I had--well did I know it would be taken
from me anyhow, and diplomacy whispered that it might be made to serve
a good purpose if I were shrewd; perhaps the hour might come when it
would be to my advantage to have these fellows friendly rather than
enemies, for the Spanish-American is a good hater.
My command of the Spanish language, as I have said before, had never
been wonderful, but it was growing all the time, and if I stayed among
these people another fortnight, I might be a fair linguist, since
necessity compels one to learn.
So I addressed the grim warriors and told them how glad I was to make
their acquaintance--that I always had a sneaking belief the finest
soldiers in the world were to be found in Bolivar, and also that I
desired to present their captain with certain golden onzas wherewith he
was, upon the earliest occasion, to treat them to the very best to be
found in old Bolivar; moreover, I solemnly promised that when I reached
New York again I would hasten to send them a huge hogshead of champagne
wherein to drink my health.
It was a master stroke.
Every man grinned as he heard the sweet jingle of golden coins passing
from my hand to that itching palm of the captain, and I have no doubt
eager eyes counted each quarter eagle or sovereign as it came in view,
intending that the officer should give a fair accounting.
They no longer scowled--a balm had been applied to their wounds, for
great is the power of money wherever civilization extends.
The alcalde hardly knew how to take me--I could see I had gained his
respect, and as out of the corner of my eye I noted his interest, it
was plain to me how he might be managed.
A bold front, a stiff bluff, and, presto! the thing might be
accomplished, with money to lubricate the wheels of progress.
All alcaldes are pretty much alike, I have found; they use their office
for private gain.
He announced, in his important, consequential way, that it was time we
were going.
I could not but notice that the old fellow who claimed to be
Hildegarde’s father, and of whom I had no reason to believe anything to
the contrary, kept watching me out of the tail of his eye.
He kept shy of me, and I fancied he had begun to entertain a lively
fear of this husband of his girl; perhaps his guilt made him a coward,
and he felt I had an account to settle with him that might not be so
pleasant.
I boldly advanced to my wife and spoke some low words of comfort to her.
At least, she would soon be where she could again have access to her
trunks, and what woman in her deplorable condition but would have found
a source of congratulation in this fact.
My confidence gave her new life, and her face once more took on color;
we had so much to be thankful for, it seemed unreasonable to complain
because a little temporary misfortune troubled us.
Patience, and she would yet see me cut this Gordian knot, like
Alexander of old.
So I babbled on, not so much to give vent to my own prowess in boasting
as with the idea of inspiring her with new zeal.
I heard the alcalde’s rasping voice give orders to leave the cain, and,
not wishing to arouse his ill will, I tucked Hildegarde under my arm
and went forth.
The better part of the day had flown while I slept the sleep of
exhaustion, and now the afternoon seemed well spent.
Near by were a number of vehicles in which the worthy mayor and his
ferocious army had sallied forth from town, most of them covered carts
drawn by the everlasting mule, though there was one American ’bus,
resplendent in gaudy paints, and to which were attached four horses.
We were to make our entry in style.
There was some confusion as the carts filled with the republican
guards--men shouted and mules brayed horribly, for these excitable
soldiers of hot temperaments can do nothing save under stress of much
jabbering.
At last we were off.
A soldier sat beside the driver of the stage--the captain and three
others crowded in after we were seated, while opposite us were the
mayor and Hildegarde’s unworthy sire.
That ride--will I ever forget it?
The road was villainous, and it made me actually sore in the endeavor
to protect my dear one from bruises--the stage jolted and bounced and
rocked when the horses ran, with much of the pitching motion felt in a
smack at sea when the waves toss wildly.
I almost pitied the stout old mayor, he was bounced about so, as though
but a rubber ball. Twice I had him in my lap, and it required all my
powers to protect Hildegarde, who sat in the very forward end of the
seat.
Again and again the alcalde sung out some energetic Spanish swear
words, and looked daggers across at me, as though it were wholly my
fault he chose to personally undertake this errand, instead of sending
a deputy.
I did not fancy the venerable chap--there was a cold-blooded
calculation in his eyes, as though he might be eternally sizing up
one’s worth in a purely speculative mood, and it really goes against
the grain of a free-born American to be thus set down as so much
merchandise.
But I must dissemble--for Hildegarde’s sake I would have to hide my
real feelings that prompted me to defy the fat tyrant to his teeth,
threatening him with the awful retributive justice to be expected from
Uncle Sam, and appear even docile, friendly, ready to hobnob with the
devil should occasion arise, and some hope of profit appear above the
horizon.
So I availed myself of every opportunity to give the old fellow the
“glad hand,” as an acquaintance used to express it, to sympathize with
his misfortune, execrate the driver, the bad roads and the wretched
government that allowed his excellency to risk his neck when by the use
of a small sum the evil could be remedied.
I thought diplomacy had won out, too, but was soon to be undeceived.
We reached the outskirts of the city.
Evening had come.
As usual, it was a bustling hour in Bolivar, for the heat of the day
had kept all good people indoors until the fresh afternoon breeze came
off the broad bay.
Once I had a good view of the harbor--how proud I had been when last
leaving it--but what a tumble pride had taken.
There was a steamer in the harbor, and better still she flew that
blessed Stars and Stripes. Would that Hildegarde were safe on board; as
for myself, I might be willing to take my chances.
We naturally attracted some attention passing along the streets, but
these people of Bolivar were fed on daily sensations, and just now
chanced to be pretty well sated, for they took it out in staring.
Thus we came to the big mansion of the alcalde.
Here was the irony of fate, to be thus ignominiously carted back,
prisoners of war after the brilliant campaign that had ended in the
tragedy of the harbor--it was cruel.
I had only time to say a few more sentences to Hildegarde, giving her
good cheer, and bidding her to be ever on the watch for me, and ready
to make another break for liberty when my guards tore me away; between
them I was marched down a flight of stairs and along a dark corridor--I
heard a door creak open, was pushed forward, stumbled and fell and
lying there heard a rusty key creak in the lock, telling me I was a
prisoner in a dungeon.