Smith
Goodwin and the ardent patriot, Zavalla, took all the precautionsthat their foresight could contrive to prevent the escape ofPresident Miraflores and his companion. The sent trusted messengersup the coast to Solitas and Alazan to warn the local leaders ofthe flight, and to instruct them to patrol the water line and arrestthe fugitives at all hazards should they reveal themselves in thatterritory. After this was done there remained only to coverthe district about Coralio and await the coming of the quarry.The nets were well spread. The roads were so few, the opportunitiesfor embarkation so limited, and the two or three probable points ofexit so well guarded that it would be strange indeed if there shouldslip through the meshes so much of the country's dignity, romance,and collateral. The president would, without doubt, move as secretlyas possible, and endeavor to board a vessel by stealth from somesecluded point along the shore.
On the fourth day after the receipt of Englehart's telegram the~Karlsefin~, a Norwegian steamer chartered by the New Orleans fruittrade, anchored off Coralio with three horse toots of her siren.The ~Karlesfin~ ws not one of the line operated by the Vesuvius FruitCompany. She was something of a dilettante, doing odd jobs for acompany that was scarcely important enough to figure as a rival tothe Vesuvius. The movements of the ~Karlesfin~ were dependent uponthe state of the market. Sometimes she would ply steadily betweenthe Spanish Main and New Orleans in the regular transport of fruit;next she would be maing erratic trips to Mobile or Charleston, oreven as far north as New York, according to the distribution ofthe fruit supply.
Goodwin lounged upon the beach with the susual crowd of idlers thathad gathered to view the steamer. Now that President Mirafloresmight be expected to reach the borders of his abjured country at anytime, the orders were to keep a strict and unrelenting watch. Everyvessel that approached the shores might now be considered a possiblemeans of escape for the fugitives; and an eye was kept even onthe slopes and dories that belonged to the sea-going contingentof Coralio. Goodwin and Zavalla moved everywhere, but withoutostentation, watching the loopholes of escape.
The customs official crowded importantly into their boat and rowedout to the ~Karlesfin~. A boat from the steamer landed her purserwith his papers, and took out the quarantine doctor with his greenumbrella and clinical thermometer. Next a swarm of Caribs beganto load upon lighters the thousands of bunches of bananas heapedupon the shore and row them out to the steamer. The ~Karlesfin~had no passenger list, and was soon done with the attention ofthe authorities. The purser declared that the steamer would remainat anchor until morning, taking on her fruit during the night.The ~Karlesfin~ had come, he said, from New York, to which port herlatest load of oranges and coconuts had been conveyed. Two or threeof the freighter sloops were engaged to assist in the work, forthe captain was anxious to make a quick return in order to reapthe advantage offered by a certain dearth of fruit in the States.
About four o'clock in the afternoon another of those marine monsters,not very familiar in those waters, hove in sight, following thefateful ~Idalia~--a graceful steam yacht, painted a light buff,clean-cut as a steel engraving. The beautiful vessel hovered offshore, see-sawing the waves as lightly as a duck in a rain barrel.A swift boat manned by a crew in uniform came ashore, and a stocky-built man leaped to the sands.
The newcomer seemed to turn a disapproving eye upon the rather motleycongregation of native Anchurians, and made his way at once towardGoodwin, who was the most conspicuously Anglo-Saxon figure present.Goodwin greeted him with courtesy.
Conversation developed that the newly landed one was named Smith,and that he had come in a yacht. A meagre biography, truly; forthe yacht was most apparent; and the "Smith" not beyond a reasonableguess before the revelation. Yet to the eye of Goodwin, who hasseen several things, there was a discrepancy between Smith and hisyacht. A bullet-headed man Smith was, with an oblique, dead eyeand the moustache of a cocktail-mixer. And unless he had shiftedcostumes before putting off for shore he had affronted the deck ofhis correct vessel clad in a pearl-gray derby, a gay plaid suit andvaudeville neckwear. Men owning pleasure yachts generally harmonizebetter with them.
Smith looked business, but he was no advertiser. He commented uponthe scenery, remarking upon its fidelity to the pictures in thegeography; and then inquired for the United States consul. Goodwinpointed out the starred-and-striped bunting hanging from above thelittle consulate, which was concealed behind the orange-trees.
"Mr. Geddie, the consul, will be sure to be there," said Goodwin."He was very nearly drowned a few days ago while taking a swim in thesea, and the doctor has ordered him to remain indoors for some time."
Smith ploughed his way through the sand to the consulate, hishaberdashery creating violent discord against the smooth tropicalblues and greens.
Geddie was lounging in his hammock, somewhat pale of face and languidin pose. On that night when the ~Valhalla's~ boat had brought himashore apparently drenched to death by the sea, Doctor Gregg and hisother friends had toiled for hours to preserve the little spark oflife that remained to him. The bottle, with its impotent message,was gone out to sea, and the problem that it had provoked was reducedto a simple sum in addition--one and one make two, by the rule ofarithmetic; one by the rule of romance.
There is a quaint old theory that man may have two souls--aperipheral one which serves ordinarily, and a central one whichis stirred only at certain times, but then with activity and vigor.While under the domination of the former a man will shave, vote, paytaxes, give money to his family, buy subscription books and comporthimself on the average plan. But let the central soul suddenlybecome dominant, and he may, in the twinkling of an eye, turn uponthe partner of his joys with furious execration; he may change hispolitics while you could snap your fingers; he may deal out deadlyinsult to his dearest friend; he may get him, instanter, to amonastery or a dance hall; he may elope, or hang himself--or he maywrite a song or poem, or kiss his wife unasked, or give his fundsto the search of a microbe. Then the peripheral soul will return;and we have our safe, sane citizen again. It is but the revolt ofthe Ego against Order; and its effect is to shake up the atoms onlythat they may settle where they belong.
Geddie's revulsion had been a mild one--no more than a swim ina summer sea after so inglorious an object as a drifting bottle.And now he was himself again. Upon his desk, ready for the post,was a letter to his government tendering his resignation as consul,to be effective as soon as another could be appointed in his place.For Bernard Brannigan, who never did things in a half-way manner,was to take Geddie at once for a partner in his very profitableand various enterprises; and Paula was happily engaged in plans forrefurnishing and decorating the upper story of the Brannigan house.
The consul rose from his hammock when he saw the conspicuous strangerat this door.
"Keep your seat, old man," said the visitor, with an airy wave of hislarge hand. "My name's Smith; and I've come in a yacht. You are theconsul--is that right? A big, cool guy on the beach directed me here.Thought I'd pay my respects to the flag."
"Sit down, said Geddie. "I've been admiring your craft ever since itcame in sight. Looks like a fast sailer. What's her tonnage?"
"Search me!" said Smith. "I don't know what she weighs in at. Butshe's got a tidy gait. The ~Rambler~--that's her name--don't takethe dust of anything afloat. This is my first trip on her. I'mtaking a squint along this coast just to get an idea of the countrieswhere the rubber and red pepper and revolutions come from. I had noidea there was so much scenery down here. Why, Central Park ain'tin it with this neck of the woods. I'm from New York. They getmonkeys, and coconuts, and parrots down here--is that right?"
"We have them all," said Geddie. "I'm quite sure that our fauna andflora would take a prize over Central Park."
"Maybe they would," admitted Smith, cheerfully. "I haven't seen themyet. But I guess you've got us skinned on the animal and vegetationquestion. You don't have much travel here, do you?"
"Travel?" queried the consul. "I suppose you mean passengers onsteamers. No; very few people land in Coralio. An investor now andthen--tourists and sightseers generally go further down the coast toone of the larger towns where there is a harbor."
"I see a ship out there loading up with bananas," said Smith. "Anypassengers come on her?"
"That's the ~Karlesfin~," said the consul. "She's a tramp fruiter--made her last trip to New York, I believe. No; she brought nopassengers. I saw her boat come ashore, and there was no one. Aboutthe only exciting recreation we have here is watching steamers whenthey arrive; and a passenger on one of them generally causes thewhole town to turn out. If you are going to remain in Coralioa while, Mr. Smith, I'll be glad to take you around to meet somepeople. There are four or five American chaps that are good to know,besides the native high-fliers."
"Thanks," said the yachtsman, "but I wouldn't put you the trouble.I'd like to meet the guys you speak of, but I won't be here longenough to do much knocking around. That cool gent on the beach spokeof a doctor; can you tell me where to find him? The ~Rambler~ ain'tquite as steady on her feet as a Broadway hotel; and a fellow getsa touch of seasickness now and then. Thought I'd strike the croakerfor a handful of the little sugar pills, in case I need 'em."
"You will be apt to find Doctor Gregg at the hotel," said the consul."You can see it from the door--it's that two-story building with thebalcony, where the orange-trees are."
The Hotel de los Extranjeros was a dreary hostelry, in great disuseboth by strangers and friends. It stood at a corner of the Streetof the Holy Sepulchre. A grove of small orange-trees crowded againstone side of it, enclosed by a low, rock wall over which a tall manmight easily step. The house was of plastered adobe, stained ahundred shades of color by the salt breeze and the sun. Upon itsupper balcony opened a central door and two windows containing broadjalousies instead of sashes.
The lower floor communicated by two doorways with the narrow,rock-paved sidewalk. The ~pulperia~--or drinking shop--of theproprietess, Madama Timotea Ortiz, occupied the ground floor. Onthe bottles of brandy, ~anisada~, Scotch "smoke," and inexpensivewines behind the little counter the dust lay thick save where thefingers of infrequent customers had left irregular prints. The upperstory contained four or five guest-rooms which were rarely put totheir destined use. Sometimes a fruitgrower, riding in from hisplantation to confer with his agent, would pass a melancholy nightin the dismal upper story; sometimes a minor native official on sometrifling government quest would have his pomp and majesty awed byMadama's sepulchral hospitality. But Madama sat behind her barcontent, not desiring to quarrel with Fate. If any one requiredmeat, drink or lodging at the Hotel de los Extranjeros they had butto come, and be served. ~Esta bueno~. If they came not, why, then,they came not. ~Esta bueno~.
As the exceptional yachtsman was making his way down the precarioussidewalk of the Street of the Holy Sepulchre, the solitary permanentguest of that decaying hotel sat at its door, enjoying the breezefrom the sea.
Doctor Gregg, the quarantine physician, was a man of fifty or sixty,with a florid face and the longest beard between Topeka and Terradel Fuego. He held his position by virtue of an appointment bythe Board of Health of a seaport city in one of the Southern states.That city feared the ancient enemy of every Southern seaport--theyellow fever--and it was the duty of Doctor Gregg to examine crew andpassengers of every vessel leaving Coralio for preliminary symptoms.The duties were light, and the salary, for one who lived in Coralio,ample. Surplus time there was in plenty; and the good doctor addedto his gains by a large private practice among the residents of thecoast. The fact that he did not know ten words of Spanish was noobstacle; a pulse could be felt and a fee collected without one beinga linguist. Add to the description the facts that the doctor hada story to tell concerning the operation of trepanning which nolistener had ever allowed him to conclude, and that he believedin brandy as a prophylactic; and the special points of interestpossessed by Doctor Gregg will have become exhausted.
The doctor had dragged a chair to the sidewalk. He was coatless,and he leaned back against the wall and smoked, while he stroked hisbeard. Surprise came into his pale blue eyes when he caught sightof Smith in his unusual and prismatic clothes.
"You're Doctor Gregg--is that right?" said Smith, feeling the dog'shead pin in his tie. "The constable--I mean the consul, told meyou hung out at this caravansary. My name's Smith; and I came in ayacht. Taking a cruise around, looking at the monkeys and pineapple-trees. Come inside and have a drink, Doc. This cafe looks on theblink, but I guess it can set out something wet."
"I will join you, sir, in just a taste of brandy," said Doctor Gregg,rising quickly. "I find that as a prophylactic a little brandy isalmost a necessity in this climate."
As they turned to enter the ~pulperia~ a native man, barefoot,glided noiselessly up and addressed the doctor in Spanish. He wasyellowish-brown, like an over-ripe lemon; he wore a cotton shirt andragged linen trousers girded by a leather belt. His face was likean animal's, live and wary, but without promise of much intelligence.This man jabbered with animation and so much seriousness that itseemed a pity that his words were to be wasted.
Doctor Gregg felt his pulse.
"You sick?" he inquired.
"~Mi mujer es enferma en la casa,~" said the man, thus endeavoringto convey the news, in the only language open to him, that his wifelay ill in her palm-thatched hut.
The doctor drew a handful of capsules filled with a white powder fromhis trousers pocket. He counted out ten of them into the native'shand, and held up his forefinger impressively.
"Take one," said the doctor, "every two hours." He then held up twofingers, shaking them emphatically before the native's face. Next hepulled out his watch and ran his finger round the dial twice. Againthe two fingers confronted the patient's nose. "Two--two--twohours," repeated the doctor.
"~Si, Senor,~" said the native, sadly.
He pulled a cheap silver watch from his own pocket and laid it inthe doctor's hand. "Me bring," said he, struggling painfully withhis scant English, "other watchy tomorrow," then he departeddownheartedly with his capsules.
"A very ignorant race of people, sir," said the doctor, as he slippedthe watch into his pocket. "He seems to have mistaken my directionsfor taking the physic for the fee. However, it is all right. He owesme an account, anyway. The chances are that he won't bring the otherwatch. You can't depend on anything they promise you. About thatdrink, now? How did you come to Coralio, Mr. Smith? I was not awarethat any boats except the ~Karlesfin~ had arrived for some days."
The two leaned against the deserted bar; and Madama set out a bottlewithout waiting for the doctor's order. There was no dust on it.
After they had drank twice Smith said:
"You say there were no passengers on the ~Karlesfin~, Doc? Are yousure about that? It seems to me I heard somebody down on the beachsay that there was one or two aboard."
"They were mistaken, sir. I myself went out and put all handsthrough a medical examination, as usual. The ~Karlesfin~ sailsas soon as she gets her bananas loaded, which will be about daylightin the morning, and she got everything ready this afternoon. No,sir, there was no passenger list. Like that Three-Star? A Frenchschooner landed two slooploads of it a month ago. If any customsduties on it went to the distinguished republic of Anchuria you mayhave my hat. If you won't have another, come out and let's sitin the cool a while. It isn't often we exiles get a chance to talkwith somebody from the outside world."
The doctor brought out another chair to the sidewalk for his newacquaintance. The two seated themselves.
"You are a man of the world," said Doctor Gregg; "a man of traveland experience. Your decision in a matter of ethics and, no doubt,on the points of equity, ability and professional probity should beof value. I would be glad if you will listen to the history of acase that I think stands unique in medical annals.
"About nine years ago, while I was engaged in the practice ofmedicine in my native city, I was called to treat a case of contusionof the skull. I made the diagnosis that a splinter of bone waspressing upon the brain, and that the surgical operation known astrepanning was required. However, as the patient was a gentlemanof wealth and position, I called in for consultation Doctor--"
Smith rose from his chair, and laid a hand, soft with apology,upon the doctor's shirt sleeve.
"Say, Doc," he said, solemnly, "I want to hear that story. You'vegot me interrested; and I don't want to miss the rest of it. I knowit's a loola by the way it begins; and I want to tell it at the nextmeeting of the Barney O'Flynn Association, if you don't mind.But I've got one or two matters to attend to first. If I get 'emattended to in time I'll come right back and hear you spiel the restbefore bedtime--is that right?"
"By all means," said the doctor, "get your business attended to,and then return. I shall wait up for you. You see, one of the mostprominent physicians at the consultation diagnosed the trouble asa blood clot; another said it was an abscess, but I--"
"Don't tell me now, Doc. Don't spoil the story. Wait till I comeback. I want to hear it as it runs off the reel--is that right?"
The mountains reached up their bulky shoulders to receive the levelgallop of Apollo's homing steeds, the day died in the lagoons andin the shadowed banana groves and in the mangrove swamps, where thegreat blue crabs were beginning to crawl to land for their nightlyramble. And it died, at last, upon the highest peaks. Then thebrief twilight, ephemeral as the flight of a moth, came and went;the Southern Cross peeped with its topmost eye above a row of palms,and the fire-flies heralded with their torches and approach ofsoft-footed night.
In the offing the ~Karlesfin~ swayed at anchor, her lights seemingto penetrate the water to countless fathoms with their shimmering,lanceolate reflections. The Caribs were busy loading her by meansof the great lighters heaped full from the piles of fruit ranged uponthe shore.
On the sandy beach, with his back against a coconut-tree and the stubsof many cigars lying around him, Smith sat waiting, never relaxinghis sharp gaze in the direction of the steamer.
The incongruous yachtsman had concentrated his interest upon theinnocent fruiter. Twice had he been assured that no passengers hadcome to Coralio on board of her. And yet, with a persistence not tobe attributed to an idling voyager, he had appealed the case to thehigher court of his own eyesight. Surprisingly like some gay-coatedlizard, he crouched at the foot of the coconut palm, and with thebeady, shifting eyes of the selfsame reptile, sustained his espionageon the ~Karlesfin~.
On the white sands a whiter gig belonging to the yacht was drawn up,guarded by one of the white-ducked crew. Not far away in a ~pulperia~on the shore-following Calle Grande three other sailors swaggerredwith their cues around Coralio's solitary billiard-table. The boatlay there as if under orders to be ready for use at any moment.There was in the atmosphere a hint of expectation, of waiting forsomething to occur, which was foreign to the air of Coralio.
Like some passing bird of brilliant plumage, Smith alights on thispalmy shore but to preen his wings for an instant and then to flyaway upon silent pinions. When morning dawned there was no Smith,no waiting gig, no yacht in the offing, Smith left no intimation ofhis mission there, no footprints to show where he had followed thetrail of his mystery on the sands of Coralio that night. He came;he spake his strange jargon of the asphalt and the cafes; he satunder the coconut-tree, and vanished. The next morning Coralio,Smithless, ate its fried plantain and said: "The man of picturedclothing went himself away." With the ~siesta~ the incident passed,yawning, into history.
So, for a time, must Smith pass behind the scenes of the play.He comes no more to Coralio, nor to Doctor Gregg, who sits in vain,wagging his redundant beard, waiting to enrich his derelict audiencewith his moving tale of trepanning and jealousy.
But prosperously to the lucidity of these loose pages, Smith shallflutter among them again. In the nick of time he shall come to tellus why he strewed so many anxious cigar stumps around the coconutpalm that night. This he must do; for, when he sailed away beforethe dawn in his yacht ~Rambler~, he carried with him the answer toa riddle so big and preposterous that few in Anchuria had venturedeven to propound it.
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