WHEN THE SPANISH FLAG LEFT PORTO RICO FOREVER.
Another short run would take them to the water's edge where a boat
awaited, and sturdy English muscles were eager to row them to safety.
Captain Beven had taken the precaution to make Spaniards out of his men
and himself, in the expectation that such a conceit might avail to save
Cleo future trouble; for such an event as this could easily be made the
foundation of an international dispute, and the Spanish government find
just cause to demand damages from John Bull.
Down the _calle_ they went, in the midst of shouts and execrations from
a myriad of heads that protruded from the windows on either side.
That the owners neither knew what was in the wind nor cared a _peseta_
was a foregone conclusion; but they could not resist giving tongue
after the manner of their kind and according to the stripe of their
belief.
It was a hot finish.
Roderic did not breathe easily until they reached the boat.
Then he began to believe there was a strong chance for boarding the
yacht.
It would not be a walk over, for pursuit had been inaugurated, and the
shouts of the angry soldiery rang down the narrow street.
The embarkation was speedily accomplished--indeed, almost like magic
they found themselves in the boat, the sailors sprang after, oars were
unshipped and the shore left behind.
What a pæan of thanksgiving seemed to arise in Owen's heart when he saw
the long prayed for consummation of their hopes accomplished--as the
shore receded, each stroke of the oars appeared like a measure in the
glad anthem that swelled upward from his very soul.
For success meant to him more than life--he had fought _for love_, and
Paradise opened wide her doors.
Then he cast an anxious look above--oh, pale moon, sailing so serenely
athwart the heavens, show yet again your sympathy and gentle mercy by
veiling that bright face behind some friendly cloud--it were worth a
king's ransom to have this occur, but it was vouchsafed them without
money and without price.
The moon dipped out of sight behind a black, ragged mass of clouds, and
the bay of San Juan was for the time being wrapped in semi-gloom. Even
Providence seemed on their side.
When the Spanish soldiers reached the water's edge they fired at
random, but none of the missiles came anywhere near them in the boat.
Faster rowed the British tars, knowing full well that boats must
already have put out in pursuit, and delay meant trouble.
Roderic cast many an anxious glance up toward that section of the
heavens where moon and cloud were having a royal warfare, and he was
delighted to discover that the former would evidently be discounted in
the battle--at least the reign of the cloud would last until they had
reached the Dreadnaught and were sheltered by her bulk from searching
eyes.
So it happened.
One and all had gained her deck and the boat was hauled up to the
davits ere the face of fair Luna peeped inquisitively forth.
Looking toward the shore they saw a dozen boats, all occupied by
Spanish soldiers in pursuit of a little sailboat or sloop that, taking
advantage of the night wind was endeavoring to slip out of the harbor,
being possibly a smuggler engaged in defying the severe duties placed
upon all imports by Spanish laws.
Fortune seemed never to tire of aiding their cause--it was one chance
in a thousand that this smuggler should start just at such a moment,
and divert the attention of the enraged Spaniards.
Perhaps, however, a guilty conscience had something to do with the
matter, for those on board the _contrabandista_ boat must have believed
the tremendous row ashore had to do with their presence in the bay, and
spreading their white wings they had flown seaward.
Several volleys were fired after them by the soldiers, and there came a
deep boom or two later announcing that the fort commanding the entrance
to the bay had taken a few chances at the escaping boat; but the moon
had again plunged behind the clouds, and besides, those on board the
sloop knew every foot of the offing so that the way to escape was open.
But Roderic, even though the yacht was in motion, and there was more or
less danger of a bombardment from the forts, had lost all interest in
the result.
He was hovering over the berth where they had laid Georgia, for upon
reaching the deck the girl had fainted in his arms--she had been
wounded, perhaps by the glancing bullet that came from the guard's
Mauser when he took his last shot.
All were dismayed to discover it, and Roderic felt a dumb anguish
creeping over his heart as he awaited the doctor's report.
It was a serious wound, with the chances against her surviving in such
a warm climate.
The truth almost paralyzed poor Roderic--for this had he labored, that
Leon should be saved and his sister yield up her bright young life?
Heaven alone knows what he suffered during the weary hours of suspense.
When the dread summons came and he knew he had lost her, the awful
nature of the blow almost crushed him.
For once in his life he felt like cursing the Providence that rules
over all.
Georgia passed away with her arm about his neck, her head pillowed on
his breast, and her last whispered words were:
"How I love you, my Roderic--do not quite forget the poor daughter of
Porto Rico!"
As if he could forget--so long as life remained her image must always
be enshrined in his heart.
Perhaps it was just as well for his future happiness--love like
Georgia's, so hot and inflammable, does not always bring that peace and
content of mind which most men who speak the English tongue desire as
their portion--it would mean an iceberg, a volcano--cold one hour and
scorching the next.
Yes, perhaps Providence ordered it for the best.
And Georgia who seemed gifted with unusually clear vision, Georgia
must have realized this, for had she not placed Cleo's hand in his, and
solemnly declared that it was her dying wish he should in due time take
this fair blue-eyed cousin for his own.
At first in the keen anguish of his grief Roderic scarcely gave this a
second thought, but later on it loomed up before his vision as he saw
how Cleo avoided him and how she blushed furiously whenever he glanced
at her.
Thus he knew an explanation was absolutely necessary, and not being the
man to avoid duty he had a long interview with his cousin.
It was arranged that Roderic should go away, after poor Georgia had
been buried near Ponce, (where Leon decided should be the final resting
place of his devoted sister,) and not see Cleo again for six months--if
at the end of that time he could come to her and honestly confess a
positive growth of the love he had always entertained for her, she
would consent to become his wife.
That was all.
They had not been interfered with in leaving San Juan harbor, and a
safe landing was made on the southern shore of Porto Rico where the
stars and stripes already floated over the land that fate intended
should be one of the fairest gems upon Columbia's diadem.
After the simple ceremony that marked the funeral of the beautiful
girl, Roderic thought life was a blank to him.
He joined one of the armies of occupation and saw some hot service as
the boys in blue advanced across the island toward San Juan, always
driving the Spaniards before, yet each day finding the task more
difficult.
Utterly reckless in his present state of mind, Roderic rushed into the
jaws of death once too often--if his mad desire was to follow his poor
Georgia across the borders of eternity he came very near accomplishing
it one day when, with a few chosen spirits he cleared a rocky eminence
of Spanish bushwhackers lying in wait for the Yankee advance guard.
The field doctor actually gave him up for lost, but he was carried
back to the town of Ponce in an old _volante_ found at a farmer's,
relic of days long gone by, and not the most comfortable vehicle of
transportation in the world for a pain-racked hero, but infinitely
better than nothing.
Here, in the hospital they found that he had one chance in a dozen if
carefully nursed, and behold, who should appear at the side of his cot
but Cleo, the girl he had believed a thousand miles away on pleasure
bent; yes Cleo, who, finding there was need of nurses to look after the
sick and wounded heroes among the Regulars and Volunteers, "her own
boys" as she called them, had quickly chosen to let the voyage wait and
devote herself to the ministration of angelic duties.
How they worshiped her, those wounded and fever stricken fellows to
whom her presence brought such comfort as she wrote letters, read
cheering words and waited upon them.
Many a heart asked Heaven's choicest blessings to follow her.
And Cleo had her reward when she found Roderic on a cot of pain.
Hers was the blessed hand that sustained him, hers the cheery face that
bending above gave him new desire to live.
Of course he survived, else had this over true tale never been written;
but it was a hard struggle, and the good army surgeon solemnly assured
Roderic he had positively been a dead man only for the unremitting and
gentle care of his sweet nurse.
It was so ordered by Divine Providence.
Roderic found out the truth--found that he did really and sincerely
love this brave girl from Virginia, not with the tempestuous affection
such as he had felt for Georgia,--no woman on earth could ever again
arouse such a passion within his heart, but with a steadfast zeal that
must grow with the passage of time until it became the sum and total of
his existence.
By the time Roderic was well enough to be moved San Juan had come into
the hands of the Americans, a protocol having been signed anticipating
peace between the two nations, now at war for the first time in their
history.
Porto Rico was a part of the United States--the days of Spain's
dominion had passed and would return no more.
It was necessary that Roderic be moved north, for recovery would be
more rapid in a cooler, bracing atmosphere.
Cleo's beautiful steam yacht still lay in the harbor awaiting her
pleasure.
No one may ever know who suggested the thing, but that mattered little,
since such a union was a foregone conclusion; but one day a little
ceremony was performed in Roderic's room at the hotel, and Cleo changed
her name--Miss Fairfax of Virginia was no more--enter Mrs. Roderic Owen.
Thus Roderic brushed all scruples aside--as the husband of the owner of
the yacht he could sail in her forever without arousing comment.
Weak as he was he and Cleo drove to the grave of his lost love and
mingled their tears with the beautiful flowers they spread upon it.
No, Roderic could never forget her--he would be less than a man to
dream of trying, and no doubt once in a while a yearning would arise in
his heart that could not be kept down, for in imagination he could feel
her arms about his neck, her passionate kisses upon his lips.
But that will come and go as a vague dream.
His wife is the sweetest and noblest woman in all the wide world, her
devotion to him is the envy of all his bachelor friends and Roderic
declares himself the happiest benedict in existence.
To Cleo the memory of Georgia is sacred, and she often brings up the
subject herself, being singularly free from jealousy.
Roderic met Julio in Ponce at the time he was saying good-bye to Leon
and his wife; the ex-_toreador_ and beau of San Juan was thinking of
migrating to Spain, since he could not hope to win many fresh laurels
in a land where the stars and stripes waved, and where men had a stern
code of morals for such sad flirts as he.
Of General Porfidio, Roderic had seen quite considerable while in
the hospital, and the old warrior will always have a warm place in
Roderic's heart; nor can he ever forget that awful duel with swords in
the East India bungalow of Rathmines road, Dublin.
As for Jerome, doubtless he is working the European capitals--perhaps
should he meet one Joel Darby on his rounds, the latter might kindly
give him points concerning the combination with which he broke the bank
at Monte Carlo.
THE END.
* * * * *
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
Punctuation has been standardized.
Some alternate spellings have been retained.
A Table of Contents has been added.
Character "Roderic" name had variant spelling "Roderick" on 10 pages.
Corrected to "Roderic" for consistency with other 450 occurrences.
Character "Beven" name had variant spelling "Bevens" on 8 pages.
Corrected to "Beven" for consistency with other 53 occurrences.
p. 15: "debonnair" changed to "debonair" (his debonair manner)
p. 33: "wont" changed to "won't" (You won't join me then?)
p. 68: "chapparal" changed to "chaparral" (than from a chaparral)
p. 92: "openations" changed to "operations" (start operations upon)
p. 93: "glimse" changed to "glimpse" (a glimpse of a flaring candle)
p. 122: "predeliction" changed to "predilection" (predilection for
having)
p. 145: "bete noir" changed to "bete noire" (greatest bete noire was)
p. 155: "tempation" changed to "temptation" (resist the temptation)
p. 171: "lesat" changed to "least" (to say the least)
p. 175: "byegone" changed to "bygone" (relics of bygone days)
p. 184: "byeways" changed to "byways" (the streets and byways)
p. 185: "in" changed to "to" (induced to enter the trap)
p. 189: "diableric" changed to "diablerie" (diablerie of his appearance)
p. 195: "succumed" changed to "succumbed" (succumbed to the charm)
p. 217: "semed" changed to "seemed" (at the moment seemed deeply
engrossed)
p. 235: "posibility" changed to "possibility" (bounds of human
possibility)
p. 245: "ecstacy" changed to "ecstasy" (ecstasy and keen pain)
p. 246: "apperture" changed to "aperture" (a gaping aperture)
p. 251: Finished incomplete word "dungeon" (reach the closed dungeon)
p. 261: "resuced" changed to "rescued" (than be rescued by you)
p. 280: "irrisistibly" changed to "irresistibly" (sweeps irresistibly)
p. 280: "fusilade" changed to "fusillade" (when the fusillade ceased)
p. 287: "Her's" changed to "Hers" (Hers was the blessed hand)
p. 287: "her's" changed to "hers" (hers the cheery face)
End of Project Gutenberg's Miss Fairfax of Virginia, by St. George Rathborne