Bindloss Harold
The Coast of Adventure
CHAPTER XXI
A HALF-BREED'S TRICK
Evelyn found the time pass heavily at Valverde. The town was hot and uninteresting, although she did not see much of it, for it was only when the glaring sunshine had faded off the narrow streets that she was allowed a leisurely stroll in company with the alcalde's wife. Señora Herrero, who was stout and placid, and always dressed in black, spoke no English, and only a few words of French. After an hour's superintendence of her half-breed servants' work, she spent most of the day in sleep. Yet she was careful of her guest's comfort, and in this respect Evelyn had no cause for complaint.
It was the monotony the girl found trying. After the ten o'clock breakfast there was nothing to be done until dinner was served at four. The adobe house was very quiet and was darkened by lattices pulled across the narrow windows; and there was no stir in the town between noon and early evening. Evelyn patiently tried to grasp the plot of a Spanish novel, and when she got tired of this sat in the coolest spot she could find, listening to the drowsy rumble of the surf. Hitherto her time had been occupied by strenuous amusements, and the lethargic inaction jarred.
It was better when the shadows lengthened, because there were then voices and footsteps in the streets. One could watch the languid traffic; but when night came Valverde, instead of wakening to a few hours' joyous life, was silent again. Sometimes a group of people went by laughing, and now and then a few gathered round a singer with a guitar, but there was no noisy talk in the cafés and no band played in the alameda. An ominous quietness brooded over the town.
All this reacted on Evelyn's nerves, and one hot afternoon she felt ready to welcome any change as she sat in a shaded room. Her hands were wet with perspiration, the flies that buzzed about her face exasperated her, and she found the musky smell that filled the house intolerable. Señora Herrero lay in a big cane chair, looking strangely bulky and shapeless in her tight black dress, with her eyes half closed and no sign of intelligence in her heavily powdered face. Evelyn longed to wake her and make her talk.
Then there were steps outside and Gomez came in. He bowed, and Señora Herrero grew suddenly alert. Indeed, it struck Evelyn that her hostess felt disturbed, but she paid no attention to this. She was glad of a break in the monotony, and it was not until afterward her mind dwelt upon what took place.
"Señor Cliffe's business with the President will keep him longer than he thought. He may be detained for a fortnight," Gomez said.
Evelyn had no reason for being on her guard, and her disappointment was obvious.
"I was looking forward to his return in a day or two," she answered.
"The señor Cliffe is to be envied for having a dutiful daughter," Gomez smiled. "Still, I need not offer my sympathy, because it is his wish that you should go to him."
"When?" Evelyn asked eagerly.
"As soon as you are ready. I have ordered the mules, and you can bring what you think needful. We could start after dinner, and I offer myself as escort for part of the way."
"But this is impossible!" Señora Herrero exclaimed in horrified protest.
Gomez spread out his hands deprecatingly.
"With apologies, señora, I think not. My plan is that you should go with your guest until I can place her in some other lady's hands."
"But it is years since I have ridden a mule, and exercise makes me ill! Besides, I cannot leave my husband and my household."
Evelyn remembered afterward that her hostess's indignant expression suddenly changed, as if Gomez had given her a warning look; but he answered good-humoredly:
"I have seen Don José. He feels desolated at the thought of losing you for two or three days, but he agrees that we must do all we can to suit the wishes of our American friends. Besides, you can travel to Galdo, where we stay the night, in a coach. I will see that one is sent, but it may take an hour or two to find mules."
"They must be good," said the señora. "I am heavy, and the road is bad."
"We will pick the best; but until you overtake us the señorita Cliffe will, no doubt, be satisfied with my escort. We should reach Galdo soon after dark. The señora Romanez will receive us there, and we start early the next morning on our journey to the hills."
Gomez turned to Evelyn.
"This meets with your approval?" he asked suavely.
"Oh, yes," she agreed; though she afterward realized that there was no obvious reason why she should not have waited for the coach, and that it was curious her hostess did not suggest this.
Gomez returned after dinner before Evelyn was quite ready, and she was somewhat surprised that he made no remark about the luggage she wished to take. It was skilfully lashed on the broad pack-saddles, and they set off when she mounted a handsome mule. There were two baggage animals, driven by dark-skinned peons, and two mounted men brought up the rear. Gomez said this explained the delay in getting mules for the coach, but added that the girl would find the journey pleasanter in the saddle.
Evelyn agreed with him as they rode down the roughly paved street. It was a relief to be moving, and the air had got pleasantly cool. Half-breed women with black shawls round their heads looked up at her from beside their tiny charcoal cooking fires, and she saw dark eyes flash with hostility as her escort passed. Here and there a woman of pure Spanish blood stood on a balcony and glanced down with shocked prudery at the bold American, but Evelyn smiled at this. She distrusted Gomez, who obviously was not a favorite with the poorer citizens, but as a traveling companion she did not find much fault with him.
After a while they left the houses behind and turned into a dusty, rutted track. The murmur of the sea followed them until they reached a belt of forest where the sound was cut off, and Evelyn felt as if she had lost a friend. The measured beat of the surf and the gleam of spray were familiar things; the forest was mysterious, and oppressively silent. In places a red glow shone among the massive trunks, but, for the most part, they were hung with creepers and all below was wrapped in shade. The track grew soft and wet; the air was steamy and filled with exotic smells. Evelyn felt her skin get damp, and the mules fell into a labored pace.
Strange noises began to fill the gathering gloom; the air throbbed with a humming that rose and fell. Deep undertones and shrill pipings that it was hard to believe were made by frogs and insects pierced the stagnant air. Specks of phosphorescent light twinkled among the leaves, but the fireflies were familiar and Evelyn welcomed them. She felt suddenly homesick, and wished they were not leaving the coast; but she remembered that her father had sent for her, and brushed her uneasiness away.
After a time, Gomez stopped.
"We have not gone fast, and the señora ought to overtake us soon," he said. "Will you get down and wait for her?"
The forest, with the thin mist drifting through it, had a forbidding look, and, for the first time that she could recollect, Evelyn felt afraid of the dark.
"Let us go on," she said.
Gomez hesitated a moment and then acquiesced.
The road got steep and the mist thicker. Drooping creepers brushed them as they passed, and now and then Evelyn was struck by a projecting branch. Her mule, however, needed no guidance, and she sank into a dreamy lethargy. There was something enervating and soporific in the steamy atmosphere.
At last the gloom began to lighten and they came out into the luminous clearness of the tropic night. In front lay a few flat blocks of houses, surrounded by fields of cane, and here and there a patch of broad-leafed bananas. Passing through the silent village they reached a long building which Gomez said was the Romanez hacienda.
Lights gleamed in the windows, but they knocked twice before a strong, arched door was unfastened, and they rode through into the patio. It was obvious that they were expected. A gentleman dressed in white, his stout wife in black, and a girl who wore a thin, yellow dress, came down to welcome them. They were hospitable, but Evelyn, speaking only a few words of Castilian, and feeling very tired, was glad when her hostess showed her to her room.
She soon went to sleep, and, wakening early, felt invigorated by the cool air that flowed in through the open window and the sight of the blue hills that rose, clean-cut, against the morning sky. Then she had a drowsy recollection of something being wrong, and presently remembered that the señora Herrero had not arrived. This, however, was not important, because Gomez could no doubt arrange for her hostess to accompany them on the next stage of their journey.
Evelyn found Gomez apologetic when they met at breakfast. He was much vexed with the alcalde's wife, but the señorita Romanez and her duenna would take her place, and he expected to put Evelyn in her father's care in two more days. This, he added, would afford him a satisfaction that would be tempered by regret.
They started after breakfast, but Evelyn did not feel drawn to her new companion. Luisa Romanez was handsome in a voluptuous style, with dark hair, a powdered face, and languishing black eyes, but so far as she could make her meaning clear, she banteringly complimented Evelyn on having won the admiration of a distinguished man. Evelyn declared that this was a mistake, and Gomez had offered his escort as a duty, to which Doña Luisa returned a mocking smile. Her amusement annoyed Evelyn. On the whole, she was glad that conversation was difficult. The sour, elderly duenna who rode behind them said nothing at all.
After traveling all day, they stopped at a lonely hacienda, where Evelyn soon retired to rest. She slept well, and, wakening rather late the next morning, found that Doña Luisa and her duenna had left an hour before. This was embarrassing, because Evelyn knew something about Spanish conventions; but, after all, she was an American, and they did not apply to her.
Gomez appeared annoyed and extremely apologetic.
"There has been a misunderstanding," he explained. "I thought the señorita Romanez would go with us to Rio Frio, but she told me last night that she must return early this morning. I expostulated and implored, but the señorita was firm. She declared she had not promised to come farther than the hacienda. You see my unfortunate position. One cannot compel a lady to do what she does not wish."
"When shall we reach Rio Frio?" Evelyn asked.
"If all goes well, late this afternoon."
Evelyn thought for a moment. She was vexed and vaguely alarmed, but her father was waiting for her at Rio Frio.
"Then let us start as soon as possible," she said.
Gomez bowed.
"When breakfast is over. I go to give my men their orders."
Leaving the hacienda, they rode by rough, steep tracks that wound through belts of forest and crossed sun-scorched slopes. Although it was hot, the air was clear, and Evelyn was pleased to see that Gomez kept the mules at a steady pace. At noon they reached a cluster of poverty-stricken mud houses, and Gomez called one of the ragged, half-breed peons. They talked for some time in a low voice, and then Gomez turned to Evelyn.
"I am afraid we shall have to wait here for two or three hours," he said. "It might be dangerous to go any farther now."
"But I must get on!" Evelyn answered sharply.
"Your wishes would be a command, only that I must think of your safety first. There is an inn in the village, and while you rest I will explain why we cannot go forward."
Evelyn found the small fonda indescribably dirty, but it offered shelter from the sun. Openings in its bare walls let in puffs of breeze, and decaying lattices kept out the glare, but the room was full of flies, and rustling sounds showed that other insects lurked in the crevices. The place reeked with the smell of caña and kerosene, and Evelyn had to force herself to eat a little of the greasy mess that was set before her in rude, sun-baked crockery. When the meal was over Gomez began his explanation.
"You have heard that the country is disturbed. There are turbulent people who want a revolution, and I am not popular with them."
Evelyn smiled, for she had learned something about the country's politics and she thought he had expressed the feeling of its discontented citizens very mildly. She distrusted him, but, so far, his conduct had been irreproachable.
"I see you understand," he resumed. "The worst is that you too are an object of suspicion; it is known that your father is a friend of the President and has business with him. Well, I have been warned that some of our enemies are in the neighborhood, and they might rouse the peons to attack us. They will know when we left the hacienda and watch for us, but we can outwit them by waiting a while and then taking another road."
This was plausible, and Evelyn agreed to the delay, although she did not feel quite satisfied when Gomez left her. The dirty room was very hot and its atmosphere unspeakably foul, but she could not sit outside in the sun, and, taking up a soiled newspaper, she tried to read. Her knowledge of Castilian did not carry her far, but she made out that the Government was being urged to deal severely with a man named Sarmiento.
Evelyn put down the paper, feeling that she ought to know the name. Sarmiento had some connection with Grahame and his friends; perhaps they had spoken of him. This led her to think of them. It looked as if Grahame were interested in the country's politics. Remembering the promise she had made, she wondered whether the Enchantress was then on the coast. As he seemed to be opposing Gomez, he must be helping the revolutionaries, while her father had business with the President. This was puzzling, and she sat thinking about it for some time; and then looked up with a start as Gomez came in.
"So you have been reading the diario!" he remarked.
"I don't understand very much; but who is Don Martin Sarmiento?"
"A dangerous person who goes about making trouble."
"It's curious, but I think I have met him."
Gomez gave her a searching glance and then smiled.
"He is not worth remembering, but you did meet him at Havana."
"Ah!" said Evelyn sharply.
Gomez laughed.
"Must I remind you, señorita, of a little affair at the Hotel International?"
Evelyn remembered it well and guessed that it was Sarmiento whom Gomez had been pursuing when she stopped him by dropping her ring. She could now understand his look of baffled rage, and she recalled her shrinking from the savagery it displayed.
"One imagines that you did not know Don Martin," Gomez said lightly, although there was a keen look in his narrowed eyes.
"No," Evelyn answered; "I only saw him at dinner."
"Then perhaps you have heard your father speak of him?"
"I am not sure; I have heard his name somewhere; but I don't think my father ever met him."
"Well, I don't know that it is of much importance. I came to tell you that I think we can start."
They set off and reached Rio Frio without trouble some time after dark. People in the streets turned and gazed at them, and although some saluted Gomez, Evelyn thought that, for the most part, they watched the party with unfriendly curiosity. She was eager to meet her father, but when they dismounted in the patio of a large white house she got a shock. A dark-skinned woman and several half-breed servants came down from a gallery to welcome them, but Cliffe was not there.
CHAPTER XXII
HELD FOR RANSOM
Gomez once more apologized. The señor Cliffe had not yet arrived from Villa Paz, he explained, but was expected in the morning. In the meantime the good señora Garcia would look after the señorita's comfort.
Evelyn had to be content with that. Indeed, she was too tired to feel much disturbed. On getting up the next morning, however, she was troubled by unpleasant suspicions. It had been a shock to find Cliffe absent, and she began to review the misadventures which had marked her journey. To begin with, it now seemed curious that her father had not written instead of sending a message; then, the señora Herrero had not kept her promise to overtake them, and Luisa Romanez had unexpectedly gone back. While she wondered whether all this had any sinister meaning, Evelyn felt for a packet of paper currency which she had, at her father's advice, sewn into her dress. She found that it was gone. A hurried search showed that the stitches had been neatly cut.
For a few moments she felt unnerved, and then resolutely pulled herself together. This was no time for hysteria. It was obvious that she had been duped. The lost sum was not large, but with the exception of a few coins it was all she had, and it had not been stolen by a common thief. Somebody had searched her clothes while she slept and taken the money with the object of embarrassing her.
Going to the window, she looked out at the town. It had a mean, dilapidated air; the few inhabitants she saw slowly moving about looked poverty-stricken and furtive. Their harsh voices jarred; one could expect no sympathy or help from these foreigners. Hitherto she had been indulged and carefully protected, but she was now alone and in danger, and the novel experience was daunting. Still, she saw that it was unwise to give her imagination rein. She must keep her head and try to grapple with the situation.
She finished dressing and without waiting for the morning chocolate found her way to the room in which she had been received on the previous evening. It stretched across one end of the house on the second floor and was furnished in rather barbarous taste. Although there was a profusion of colored silk and a hint of sensual luxury, it was obviously a man's room, and Evelyn studied the woman who joined her when the majordomo brought in breakfast.
Señora Garcia was coarsely handsome, but she had not the easy manners of a lady of rank and her dark color hinted at Indian blood. Her expression was arrogant, and Evelyn felt that she was hostile. Besides, she spoke an uncouth Spanish that the girl could not understand at all. Breakfast was a trial of nerve, but Evelyn knew that she must eat and hide her fears. When breakfast was over she would have a talk with Gomez.
He soon came in, and dismissed the señora Garcia with a commanding glance. Her servile obedience was significant.
"Buenos días, señorita," he greeted Evelyn smilingly.
"When do you expect my father?" she asked bluntly.
"I regret that I cannot answer positively. It may be a week before he comes – perhaps longer."
"But you brought me here to meet him!"
Gomez smiled, and spread out his hands in a way that always irritated Evelyn.
"It now appears that the señor Cliffe's business with the President is not finished," he said.
"It would not prevent his coming to meet me if he had promised."
"You should know best," Gomez answered with a shrug. "Still, it looks as if the señor Cliffe put his business first and is not very anxious about you."
"That is not true!" Evelyn said vehemently. "If he had any cause to be anxious, he would let no business stand in the way!"
"Ah! I admit I find this interesting."
Gomez looked so satisfied that Evelyn feared she had blundered, though she could not see how. Her heart beat fast and her nerves were tensely strung, but she knew that she must be calm. The man was her antagonist and she was fighting in the dark.
"Well," she said, "since my father has not arrived, I will go to him."
"I am afraid that is impossible. It is a long way to Villa Paz and the country is disturbed."
"Do you mean to prevent my going?"
"Far from it, señorita. You are at liberty to do what you wish; but unfortunately, I cannot provide mules and an escort. There are some dangerous revolutionaries among the hills. Then, I must remind you that our people dislike foreigners, and a lady cannot travel alone and without money."
Evelyn felt trapped.
"How do you know I haven't money? Because it was stolen in this house! You must lend me some – my father will repay it."
"Your pardon, señorita, but you are mistaken; I can answer for the honesty of my servants. I would lend you money, only that I cannot permit you to make a journey I know is dangerous."
The girl sat still and there was silence for a few moments while she tried to brace herself. She felt that she was at the man's mercy, for there was something threatening behind his suave politeness, and his smile indicated that he was amused by her futile struggles. For all that, she must keep up the fight.
"Then what is to be done?" she asked.
"I suggest that you write to the señor Cliffe and tell him where you are. If you add that you do not feel safe, he will, no doubt, join you as soon as possible. Although it may reflect upon our care of you, we will see that he gets the letter."
It seemed a simple course, but Evelyn was on her guard. She must match her wits against the man's, and he had shown a hint of eagerness that she thought suspicious. Having brought her to Rio Frio by trickery, why did he wish her father to know that she felt alarmed?
"I should be glad to write to him, but I do not see why I should make him uneasy on my account," she said.
There was something in Gomez's expression which indicated that he felt baffled, and she knew it might be dangerous to provoke him; but he exercised self-control.
"That is for you to judge, but are you not inconsistent, señorita? You show some anger and alarm when you do not find your father here, and now when I suggest an easy way of bringing him, you will not take it."
"Do you want him to come here?" Evelyn asked bluntly.
Gomez gave her a steady, thoughtful look.
"On the whole, that would suit us." He paused and added in a meaning tone: "It would facilitate your return to the coast."
Evelyn knew she had been given a hint that was half a threat and it cost her something to refuse it, although she felt that to do what the man wished might not be the safest plan.
"After all, it might interfere with his business if I made him leave Villa Paz before he is ready."
Watching Gomez closely she thought his calm was forced, but he bowed.
"As you wish, señorita, but you will think over it. And now I must leave you."
For some minutes after he had gone Evelyn sat with relaxed muscles and vacant mind, for the strain had told; then by degrees her courage came back. She was an American and must show no weakness to an antagonist of alien and, she felt, baser blood. Besides, it looked as if she had won the first encounter and she had resources which should prove useful. She had inherited her father's intelligence, and her social training had given her restraint and the power to conceal her thoughts, while a woman's quick, instinctive perception was an advantage.
All this, however, was not directly to the point. She had been decoyed to Rio Frio for some purpose. She shrank as she remembered Luisa Romanez's hints; still, she did not think Gomez was in love with her. The fellow was a sensualist, but he had some advantage in view, and she had already suspected what it was. Now she began to understand the matter more clearly. Gomez and the President meant to use her as a means of getting her father into their power. She did not think his personal safety was threatened, but they would insist on his agreeing to their terms as the price of restoring her to him, and it was plain that she would play into their hands by writing a letter that would cause him anxiety. Evelyn determined that they should not have her help, but although she sat for some time with brows knitted and hands clenched, she could make no better plan than to remain quietly obstinate.
It was impossible to reach Villa Paz without money, and although she shrank from being left in the power of a man like Gomez, she thought his self-interest would secure her safety. She might, perhaps, get some one to carry a message to Grahame if he were on the coast, but she was reluctant to do so unless the need were urgent.
After a while she got up and went out into the plaza. People gazed at her curiously; some smiled at one another as she passed, and a number of the women looked suspicious and hostile. For all that, she was neither molested nor followed, and when the sun got hot she returned to the house, where she spent the day drearily improving her knowledge of Castilian. It promised to become useful, but the fine language jarred her long afterward.
The week that followed tried her courage. She was, in reality, a prisoner, though subject to no open restraint and treated well, except that the señora Garcia regarded her with badly disguised hatred. Now and then she saw Gomez, but he was suavely courteous and said nothing of importance. She got nervous and lost her color and her appetite, but there was nothing to do but wait until Gomez, who apparently meant to wear her out, made some fresh demand.
One evening he came into the room where she sat and after a ceremonious greeting stood with his head slightly bent in an attitude of respect. He was dressed in a white uniform which emphasized his stoutness and the dark color of his greasy skin.
"You look tired, señorita," he remarked.
"I am very tired of Rio Frio. Have you come to tell me that I can go away?"
"That you should be eager to do so grieves me, but I can, perhaps, make it possible. There is a proposal I wish to make."
"Yes?" Evelyn answered as carelessly as she could.
"You may find what I propose surprising; but I must beg you to think over it and you will see that it is not so strange as it seems. I have the honor to ask you to be my wife."
Evelyn shrank back in horror, as if he had struck her, and then with an effort recovered her self-control.
"This is impossible, señor; indeed, it is absurd."
"Your pardon," he said with ominous grimness; "I cannot agree. It is, I think, the best way out of an embarrassing situation, but this is an argument I do not wish to use. I would rather speak of the charm you exercise and my respectful admiration."
"We can leave that out. I do not value nor desire it."
The man's dark eyes flashed, and Evelyn knew the danger of rousing him. His Spanish polish was only skin-deep, and the savage lurked beneath. For all that, she was desperate and meant to force the conflict.
"Very well," he said; "I must take another course. To begin with, it looks as if your father did not care what became of you. It is now some time since he left you at Valverde and he has not troubled to inquire if you are safe."
"I do not believe that!"
"Well, we will let it go. The rest is more important. It is known in Valverde that you did me the honor to run away with me."
Evelyn jumped up, with the color rushing to her face and her hands clenched. The prudence she tried to exercise had given place to imperious anger.
"You scoundrel!" she cried. "Do you think it matters to me what your black-blooded countrymen and women think! Your Moorish customs may be necessary for them, but I am an American!"
Gomez chuckled.
"There were two American comisionistas at Valverde and they must have heard the story in the cafés. It is, you understand, a romantic episode: the daughter of a well-known financier elopes with a foreign soldier. The comisionistas talk about it when they return and your newspapers make the most of the tale. Some of them are not reserved or fastidious. It is possible they print your portrait. One can imagine the astonishment of your friends, but the story would be incomplete if it did not end with a romantic wedding."
The girl drew back in horror. If the tale reached home, the shock would break her mother down; but it was possible that Gomez was lying. She had heard of no American drummers in the town.
He gave her no time to recover.
"Then I must show you how what followed our flight from Valverde fits in. We arrive together at Rio Frio after dark; you find shelter in my house."
Evelyn started, for this was worse.
"Your house!" she exclaimed. "Then who is Señora Garcia?"
Gomez smirked in an ugly manner.
"A woman of the town who comes at my bidding."
The jealous hatred of the coarse but handsome woman was now explained and Evelyn grew hot with humiliation as she saw that the señora Garcia regarded her as a favored rival. It was unendurable; but in spite of her anger she was getting calm. Besides, there was some hope in the thought that Gomez could not be moved by passion. He was a sensual brute, and her beauty had perhaps caught his roving eye, but it was some material advantage he sought.
"It was a clever plot; one that only a mind like yours could conceive," she said with quiet scorn.
"The important thing is that it succeeded. But may I ask why you object to me? I am a man of influence – in reality, the second in power. The country is disturbed and discontented; before long I may be first."
"Your hopes would probably come to a sudden end, if your master guessed them," Evelyn answered with a mocking smile.
She saw that she had touched him, for he cast a quick glance at the door, as if to make sure that nobody had heard his boast. As he did so, Evelyn thought she heard a faint movement outside, but she knew she might be mistaken, and Gomez did not seem to notice anything. To distract his attention, she flung another jibe at him.
"Señor," she said, "though you think I am in your power, I will never marry you. It is an insult to suggest it. Even if you were not repulsive in person and character, you are not a white man."
The blood rushed to his face and his eyes flashed.
"You are rash, señorita, in trying to provoke me, but you may take a wiser course before I have finished with you. It pains me deeply to be compelled to remind you that you are in my house, in my power. I repeat to you my offer, señorita; I give you one more chance to marry me of your own free will. And now I leave you to think it over."
Before Evelyn could more than gasp he was gone. She fell limply into a chair and dropped her head into her hands. She must think, think; but the strain had been unbearable and the reaction threatened to overwhelm her.
