Part 12 (1/2)
”Eart'quak'!”
”That's nothing new here, sir,” said the landlord to Lawrence, as he lighted a cigarette; ”we're used to it, though some of the natives ain't quite easy in their minds, for the shocks have been both frequent as well as violent lately.”
”Have they done any damage?” asked Lawrence.
”Nothin' to speak of. Only shook down a house or two that was built to sell, I suppose, not to stand. You'll find the market-place second turn to your left.”
Somewhat impressed by the landlord's free-and-easy manner, as well as by his apparent contempt for earthquakes, the master and man went out together. With characteristic modesty the negro attempted to walk behind, but Lawrence would by no means permit this. He insisted on his walking beside him.
”Bery good, ma.s.sa,” said Quashy, at last giving in, ”if you _will_ walk 'longside ob a n.i.g.g.e.r, 's'not _my_ fault. Don't blame _me_.”
With this protest, solemnly uttered, the faithful negro accompanied our hero in his inspection of the town.
CHAPTER NINE.
TELLS OF A TREMENDOUS CATASTROPHE.
San Ambrosio was, at the period of which we write, a small and thriving place--though what may be styled a mushroom town, which owed its prosperity to recently discovered silver-mines. All things considered, it was a town of unusual magnificence on a small scale.
Being built with straight streets, cutting each other at right angles, Lawrence and his man had no difficulty in finding the princ.i.p.al square, or market-place, which was crowded with people selling and buying vegetables, milk, eggs, fruit, etcetera, brought in from the surrounding districts. The people presented all the picturesque characteristics of the land in profusion--peons, with huge Spanish spurs, mounted on gaily caparisoned mules; Gauchos, on active horses of the Pampas; market-women, in varied costumes more or less becoming, and dark-eyed senhoras on balconies and verandas sporting the graceful mantilla and the indispensable fan.
The carts and donkeys, and dogs and fowls, and boys had the curious effect of reducing the babel of voices and discordant sounds to something like a grand harmony.
Besides these, there was a sprinkling of men of free-and-easy swagger, in long boots, with more or less of villainy in their faces--adventurers these, attracted by the hope of ”something turning up” to their advantage, though afflicted, most of them, with an intense objection to take the trouble of turning up anything for themselves. Dangerous fellows, too, who would not scruple to appropriate the turnings up of other people when safe opportunity offered.
A clear fountain played in the centre of the square--its cool, refres.h.i.+ng splash sounding very sweet in the ears of Lawrence, whose recent sojourn in the cold regions of the higher Andes had rendered him sensitive to the oppressive heat of the town. Besides this, a clear rivulet ran along one side of the square, near to which was the governor's house. A line of trees threw a grateful shade over the footpath here. On the opposite side stood the barracks, where a few ill-clad unsoldierly men lounged about with muskets in their hands. All the houses and church walls and spires, not only in the square, but in the town, bore evidence, in the form of cracked walls and twisted windows and doorways, of the prevalence of earthquakes; and there was a general appearance of dilapidation and dirt around, which was anything but agreeable to men who had just come from the free, grand, sweet-scented scenery of the mountains.
”They seem to have had some severe shakings here,” said Lawrence, pointing with his stick to a crack in the side of one of the houses which extended from the roof to the ground.
We may remark here that, on entering the town, our travellers had laid aside their arms as being useless enc.u.mbrances, though Lawrence still carried his oaken cudgel, not as a weapon but a walking-stick.
”Yes, ma.s.sa,” replied Quashy, ”got lots ob eart' quaks in dem diggins.
Ebery day, more or less, dey hab a few. Jest afore you come down dis mornin' I hab some conv'sas.h.i.+n' wid de landlord, an' he say he don' like de look ob t'ings.”
”Indeed, Quashy. Why not?”
”'Cause it's gittin' too hot, he say, for de time ob year--sulfry, he called it.”
”Sultry, you mean?”
”Well, I's not 'zactly sure what I means, but _he_ said sulfry. An'
dey've bin shook more dan ornar ob late. An' dere's a scienskrific gen'leman in our inn what's bin a-profisyin' as there'll be a grand bust-up afore long.”
”I hope he'll turn out to be a false prophet,” said Lawrence. ”What is his name?”
”Dun' know, ma.s.sa. Look dar!” exclaimed Quashy, with a grin, pointing to a fat priest with a broad-brimmed white hat on a sleek mule, ”he do look comf'rable.”
”More comfortable than the poor beast behind him,” returned Lawrence, with a laugh, as he observed three little children cantering along on one horse.