Part 4 (1/2)
”Now, gentlemen,” he continued, ”isn't it hard--devilish hard, don't you know, that so little is made of us? I feel it--I feel it, gentlemen; our lives are being frittered away. I don't know whether you fellows feel it. You see, we ain't a melancholy lot. We're a glorious combination against the blue devils, that's what we are. Only sometimes I feel, don't you know, that all the rum in the place can't quite kill them. I can't help thinking of jolly days on the other side of the water. Now, don't you fellows look at me as if you thought I was going to blubber.
I'm not going to make such a confounded a.s.s of myself, don't you know.
But what I want you fellows to tell me is this: Are we to go on all our lives making beasts of ourselves, guzzling rum--I--I beg your pardon, gentlemen. I didn't mean to say that, really. Rum is about the only decent thing in this place. Rum keeps us alive. If any man says a word against rum, I'll call him an infernal a.s.s. I meant to say the country, gentlemen--this rotten old country, don't you know. No cricket, no society, no Ba.s.s, no anything. Supposing we had gone to Canada with our--our capital and energies, wouldn't they have received us with open arms? And what's the reception we get here? Now, gentlemen, what I propose is this: let's protest. Let's get up a what-d'you-call-it to the thing they call a government. We'll state our case to the thing, gentlemen; and we'll insist on it and be very firm; that's what we'll do, don't you know. Are we to live amongst these miserable monkeys and give them the benefit of our--our--yes, gentlemen, our capital and energies, and get nothing in return? No, no; we must let them know that we are not satisfied, that we will be very angry with them. That's about all I have to say, gentlemen.”
Loud applause followed, during which the orator sat down rather suddenly on the floor. Then followed ”Rule Britannia,” everyone a.s.sisting with all the breath in his lungs to make night hideous.
When the song was finished the loud snoring of Captain Wriothesley became audible. He had begun to spread some rugs to lie on, but, becoming hopelessly entangled in his bridle-reins, surcingle, and stirrup-straps, had fallen to sleep with his feet on his saddle and his head on the floor.
”Hallo, we can't have this!” shouted one of the fellows. ”Let's wake old Cloud by firing at the wall over him and knocking some plaster on to his head. It'll be awful fun, you know.”
Everybody was delighted with the proposal, except poor Chillingworth, who, after delivering his speech, had crept away on all fours into a corner, where he was sitting alone and looking very pale and miserable.
The firing now began, most of the bullets. .h.i.tting the wall only a few inches above the rec.u.mbent Captain's head, scattering dust and bits of plaster over his purple face. I jumped up in alarm and rushed amongst them, telling them in my haste that they were too drunk to hold their revolvers properly, and would kill their friend.
My interference raised a loud, angry remonstrance, in the midst of which the Captain, who was lying in a most uncomfortable position, woke, and, struggling into a sitting posture, stared vacantly at us, his reins and straps wound like serpents about his neck and arms.
”What's all the row 'bout?” he demanded huskily. ”Getting up rev'lution, I s'pose. A'right; only thing to do in this country. Only don't ask me to be pres'dent. Nor good enough. Goo' night, boys; don't cut my throat by mistake. Gor bless you all.”
”No, no, don't go to sleep, Cloud,” they shouted. ”Lamb's the cause of all this. He says we're drunk--that's the way Lamb repays our hospitality. We were firing to wake you up, old Cap, to have a drink--”
”A drink--yes,” a.s.sented the Captain hoa.r.s.ely.
”And Lamb was afraid we would injure you. Tell him, old Cloud, whether you're afraid of your friends. Tell Lamb what you think of his conduct.”
”Yes, I'll tell him,” returned the Captain in his thick tones. ”Lamb shan't interfere, gentlemen. But you know you took him in, didn't you, now? And what was my opinion of him? It wasn't right of you fellows, was it, now? He couldn't be one of us, you know, could he now? I'll leave it to you, gentlemen; didn't I say the fellow was a cad? Why the devil doesn't he leave me alone then? I'll tell you what I'll do with Lamb, I'll punch his d.a.m.ned nose, don't you know.”
And here the gallant gentleman attempted to rise, but his legs refused to a.s.sist him, and, tumbling back against the wall, he was only able to glare at me out of his watery eyes.
I went up to him, intending, I suppose, to punch _his_ nose, but, suddenly changing my mind, I merely picked up my saddle and things, then left the room with a hearty curse on Captain Cloudesley Wriothesley, the evil genius, drunk or sober, of the colony of English gentlemen. I was no sooner outside the door than the joy they felt at being rid of me was expressed in loud shouts, clapping of hands, and a general discharge of firearms into the roof.
I spread my rugs out of doors and soliloquised myself to sleep. ”And so ends,” said I, fixing my somewhat drowsy eyes on the constellation of Orion, ”adventure the second, or twenty-second--little does it matter about the exact number of them, since they all alike end in smoke--revolver smoke--or a flourish of knives and the shaking of dust from off my feet. And, perhaps, at this very moment Paquita, roused from light slumbers by the droning cry of the night-watchman under her window, puts out her arms to feel me, and sighs to find my place still vacant. What must I say to her? That I must change my name to Ernandes or Fernandes, or Blas or Chas, or Sandariaga, Gorostiaga, Madariaga, or any other 'aga,' and conspire to overthrow the existing order of things.
There is nothing else for me to do, since this Oriental world is indeed an oyster only a sharp sword will serve to open. As for arms and armies and military training, all that is quite unnecessary. One has only got to bring together a few ragged, dissatisfied men, and, taking horse, charge pell-mell into poor Mr. Chillingworth's dilapidated old tin-pot.
I almost feel like that unhappy gentleman to-night, ready to blubber.
But, after all, my position is not quite so hopeless as his; I have no brutalised, purple-nosed Briton sitting like a nightmare on my chest, pressing the life out of me.”
The shouts and choruses of the revellers grew fainter and fewer, and had almost ceased when I sank to sleep, lulled by a solitary tipsy voice droning out in a lugubrious key:
We won't go--home till morning.
CHAPTER VII
Early next morning I left Tolosa and travelled the whole day in a south-westerly direction. I did not hurry, but frequently dismounted to give my horse a sip of clear water and a taste of green herbage. I also called during the day at three or four _estancia_ houses, but failed to hear anything that could be advantageous to me. In this way I covered about thirty-five miles of road, going always towards the eastern part of the Florida district in the heart of the country. About an hour before sunset I resolved to go no farther that day; and I could not have hoped to find a nicer resting-place than the one now before me--a neat _rancho_ with a wide corridor supported by wooden pillars, standing amidst a bower of fine old weeping-willows. It was a calm, suns.h.i.+ny afternoon, peace and quiet resting on everything, even bird and insect, for they were silent, or uttered only soft, subdued notes; and that modest lodge, with its rough stone walls and thatched roof, seemed to be in harmony with it all. It looked like the home of simple-minded, pastoral people that had for their only world the gra.s.sy wilderness, watered by many clear streams, bounded ever by that far-off, unbroken ring of the horizon, and arched over with blue heaven, starry by night and filled by day with sweet suns.h.i.+ne.
On approaching the house I was agreeably disappointed at having no pack of loud-mouthed, ferocious dogs rus.h.i.+ng forth to rend the presumptuous stranger to pieces, a thing one always expects. The only signs of life visible were a white-haired old man seated within the corridor smoking, and a few yards from it a young girl standing under a willow-tree. But that girl was a picture for one to gaze long upon and carry about in his memory for a lifetime. Never had I beheld anything so exquisitely beautiful. It was not that kind of beauty so common in these countries, which bursts upon you like the sudden south-west wind called _pampero_, almost knocking the breath out of your body, then pa.s.sing as suddenly away, leaving you with hair ruffled up and mouth full of dust. Its influence was more like that of the spring wind, which blows softly, scarcely fanning your cheek, yet infusing through all your system a delicious, magical sensation like--like nothing else in earth or heaven.
She was, I fancy, about fourteen years old, slender and graceful in figure, and with a marvellously clear white skin, on which this bright Oriental sun had not painted one freckle. Her features were, I think, the most perfect I have ever seen in any human being, and her golden brown hair hung in two heavy braids behind, almost to her knees. As I approached, she looked up to me out of sweet, grey-blue eyes; there was a bashful smile on her lips, but she did not move or speak. On the willow-branch over her head were two young doves; they were, it appeared, her pets, unable yet to fly, and she had placed them there.