Part 30 (2/2)

”Just fancy,” continued Peter, looking mischievously at Jill, ”just fancy Greenie here served up with parsley and b.u.t.ter sauce, or however they do serve them up.”

”Never mind, Peter,” I said, laughing; ”all's well that ends well.”

”Yes, my boy, unless it ends better than well, and that's how it's going to.”

”How do you mean?” asked Jill. ”Why, in a ball. And that's what is going to be given. There are two s.h.i.+ps here, and I'm so glad, because there is a pretty Chilian girl that I'm half mad on, the daughter of somebody or another, and--and she'll be there. Do you see, Greenie?”

At little outlandish towns like Sandy Point it does not take a very long time, when s.h.i.+ps are alongside, to get up an entertainment of any kind, so in less than a week the ball came off.

It was preceded by a dinner on board the man-o'-war, at which I was pleased to note that Jill was the hero of the hour. I really felt proud of him, but Jill took it all as a matter of course.

The dinner was excellent of its kind, though I think even Captain Coates missed the big solid English joints. Here all was made dishes, dishes of surprise you might say. Peter and I sat pretty close together, Jill being stowed away among the ladies somewhere, so I knew what Peter did.

On the whole I should say he did well, and I should think he must have changed his plate about twenty times before dessert.

”My object was,” he told me next morning, ”to taste everything. I wanted to improve the mind as well as the body. D'ye see?”

”Oh yes, we saw right enough.” Peter never failed to be explicit when he talked. For the first time in my life, we tasted guanaco and ostrich meat, and horseflesh; and the commander of the s.h.i.+p positively apologised because he had not been able to procure a fry of agouti and a curry of armadillo. I for one readily excused the gallant commander, and I suppose so did Peter; though I know this much, if steak of grampus and roast albatross had been placed before him, he would have felt it his duty to eat of these dishes.

When talking grew fast and furious, which it did about the middle of the seventeenth course--”the seventeenth round” Peter afterwards styled it-- I had time to look around me and note the peculiarities of my companions at table.

The princ.i.p.al peculiarities of the foreign officers, I soon discovered, were excessive politeness and a gesticulatory method of talking, not by any means approaching to rudeness, but strange to an Englishman's eye.

The commander was a short, stout, good-natured little fellow, very round-faced, and cheerful in eye. I do not wonder at this, if he ”fed”--the expression is Peter's--as well every day as we had now done.

His officers were second editions of himself, only boiled down, as it were. There were several gentlemen from the two merchant s.h.i.+ps, and two ladies. One of the latter was a captain's wife, who, like our little mother Coates, preferred to plough the stormy ocean with her husband to staying at home on the dull sh.o.r.e.

The other lady was she on whom Peter had gone mad, as he told us. I think I am right in a.s.serting that poor Peter had eyes for n.o.body and nothing at table except her. She really was a charming girl. I did not wonder at Peter's all too sensitive heart being smitten with her.

Besides, you know, Peter was a sailor. He did not know her Christian name. He had simply given her one. He called her Dulzura, which certainly sounds very nice, and means ”sweet,” ”suave,” ”pleasant,”

”pretty,” and a whole regiment of other nice adjectives.

Near the head of the table sat Dulzura's father. I knew him for her father at a glance. He was an exceedingly handsome man, but bold-looking as well as handsome, though most deferential and gentlemanly. His age might have been about fifty. I put him down at once as a soldier, but found out afterwards that, though he had been in the Chilian army, he was now, if anything, a sportsman and rover.

Well, after the dinner came the ball on the quarter-deck. There was not a great deal of room, certainly, but then our party was not large.

Senor Castizo, as Dulzura's father was called, opened the ball, leading off in a waltz with our little mother Coates. Poor little mother Coates! she felt much flattered, but soon got tired. _Darning_ was more in her way than _dancing_. But Castizo was not tired, and no sooner had Mrs Coates retired than, full of glee and delight, there rushed up to him his daughter. He might have been her elder brother, so gracefully did he waltz. The two were the admiration of all beholders, especially Peter. He was waiting to receive her, and I'll never forget the kindly yet princely air with which her father handed the young lady over.

Peter led her away in triumph to breathe among the evergreens in the improvised conservatory. I saw Peter soon after, and I never noticed him look so happy before.

I saw him later on. He was out near the mainmast. I should have told you that the ball was on the upper deck, under an awning beautifully decorated with flags and greenery. Yes, I saw Peter there, and with him was Dulzura's father. A glance told me he was doing the agreeable.

Both were smoking such huge cigars that really Peter looked small behind his.

I next saw Peter among the musicians, playing on his clarionet. His soul seemed in it. His soul seemed more in it when asked by Dulzura to play a solo. I shall never forget that I did not know before he could play so sweetly. Surely, I thought, Peter is inspired.

Well, as far as appearances went that night it was my brother Jill who was the greater favourite with Dulzura. He could dance better than Peter.

But next day, when Peter came to breakfast with us, he could speak about nothing else but the dinner and ball of the previous evening.

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