The Coast of Adventure Part 14

making two or three experiments. As ye seem none the worse for them, ye must be tougher than ye look."

"I thought tampering with other people's watches was your specialty."

"What's a watch compared with the human body?" Macallister asked.

"You do know something about springs and wheels, but it's different with drugs. I expect you gave way to an unholy curiosity to see how they would work."

"Maybe there's something in the notion. An engineer canna help wanting to find out how things act. It's a matter o' temperament, and there's no' a great difference between watching the effect o' a new oil on your piston-rings and seeing what happens when a patient swallows your prescription. I'll say this for ye: ye were docile."

"I've survived," said Walthew. "From my point of view, that's the most important thing."

"And now you had better think about the future," Grahame interposed.

"Some people are practically immune from malaria; others get it moderately now and then, and some it breaks down for good. At first it's difficult to tell which cla.s.s one belongs to, but you have had a sharp attack. There's some risk of your spending the rest of your life as an ague-stricken invalid if you stick to us."

"How heavy is the risk?"

"n.o.body can tell you that, but it's to be reckoned with. I understand that your father would take you back?"

"He'd be glad to do so, on his terms," said Walthew thoughtfully.

"Still, it's hard to admit that you're beaten, and I suspect the old man would have a feeling that I might have made a better show. He wants me to give in and yet he'd be sorry if I did."

"Suppose you go home in twelve months with a profit on the money he gave you?" Grahame suggested.

"Then I'm inclined to think he'd welcome me on any terms I cared to make."

"Think it over well and leave us out of the question," Grahame said.

"You can't be left out," Walthew answered with a gleam in his eyes. "But I'll wait until I feel better. I may see my way then."

They left him and he lighted his cigarette, though the tobacco did not taste good. Hards.h.i.+p and toil had not daunted him, the risk of s.h.i.+pwreck and capture had given the game a zest, but the foul mangrove quagmires, where the fever lurks in the tainted air, had brought him a shrinking dread. One could take one's chance of being suddenly cut off, but to go home with permanently broken health or perhaps, as sometimes happened, with a disordered brain, was a different thing. Since he took malaria badly, the matter demanded careful thought. In the meanwhile, it was enough to lie in the shade and feel his strength come back.

A few days later they reached Havana, where they sold the dyewood and had arranged to meet Don Martin Sarmiento, whose affairs occasionally necessitated a visit to Cuba.

One evening soon after his arrival, Grahame stood in the _patio_ of the Hotel International. The International had been built by some long-forgotten Spanish _hidalgo_, and still bore traces of ancient art.

The basin in the courtyard with the stone lions guarding its empty fountain was Moorish, the balconies round the house had beautiful bronze bal.u.s.trades cast three hundred years ago, and the pillars supporting them were delicately light.

The building had, however, been modernized, for part of the _patio_ was roofed with gla.s.s, and wide steps, tiled in harsh colors, led to a lounge through which one entered the dining-room, where everything was arranged on the latest American plan. There was a glaring cafe in the front of the building, and an archway at the back led to the uncovered end of the _patio_, where porters, pedlers, and the like importuned the guests.

Just then this s.p.a.ce was occupied by a group of Chinamen, half-breeds, and negroes, and Grahame was watching them carelessly when he heard a step behind him. Turning abruptly, he stood facing Evelyn Cliffe. He imagined that she looked disturbed, but she frankly gave him her hand.

"You!" she exclaimed. "This is something of a surprise."

"That's what I felt," he answered. "I hope the pleasure's also mutual.

But you see, I get my meals here and Walthew has a room. He has been down with fever and isn't quite better yet."

"And I've just arrived with my father, who has some business in the town," Evelyn said and laughed. "I nearly missed meeting you, because I thought you were a stranger and I meant to slip past, but you were too quick. Do you generally swing round in that alert manner when you hear somebody behind you?"

"I admit it's a habit of mine--though I must have been clumsy if you noticed it. A number of people go barefooted in these countries, and the business I'm engaged in demands some caution."

"Then it's lucky you have self-control, because you might run a risk of injuring a harmless friend by mistake."

"One does not mistake one's friends. They're not too plentiful," he replied, smiling.

"But what is the business that makes you so careful?"

"I think I could best call myself a general adventurer, but at present I'm engaged in trade. In fact, I'm living rather extravagantly after selling a cargo."

Evelyn gave him a quick glance. His manner was humorous, but she imagined he wished to remind her that he did not belong to her world.

This jarred, because there was an imperious strain in her, and she felt that she could choose her acquaintances as she liked. Besides, it was mocking her intelligence to suggest that the man was not her equal by birth and education. For all that, she had been disconcerted to find him in the hotel. He had exerted a disturbing influence when they first met, and she had had some trouble in getting free from it. That the influence was unintentional made things no better, because Evelyn did not want her thoughts to center on a man who made no attempt to please her. Yet she felt a strange pleasure in his society.

"I suppose you are waiting for dinner now?" she said.

"Yes," he answered. "Shall we look for a seat here? A fellow who sings rather well sometimes comes in."

He led her to a bench near the marble basin under the broad leaves of a palm. Evelyn noticed that the spot was sufficiently public to offer no hint of privacy, and she admired his tact. It got dark while they engaged in casual talk, and colored servants lighted lamps among the plants and flowers. Then the soft tinkle of a guitar and a clear voice, trilling on the higher notes with the Spanish tremolo, came out of the shadow. One or two others joined in, and Evelyn listened with enjoyment.

"The _Campanadas_," Grahame said. "It's a favorite of mine. The refrain states that grapes eaten in pleasant company taste like honey."

"Isn't that a free translation? I'm not a Spanish scholar, but I imagine it means something more personal than company in general."

"Yes," said Grahame slowly. "It really means--with you."

The music changed to a plaintive strain, which had something seductive and pa.s.sionate in its melancholy.

"_Las aves marinas_," said Evelyn. "That means the sea-birds, doesn't it? What is the rest?"

"I won't paraphrase this time. The song declares that although the sea-birds fly far across the waves they cannot escape the pains of love.

These people are a sentimental lot, but the idea's poetical."

"I wonder whether it's true," Evelyn said with a smile. "Perhaps you ought to know."

"The sea-birds are fierce wild things that live by prey. One a.s.sociates them with elemental strife--the white tide-surge across desolate sands and the pounding of the combers on weedy reefs--and not with domestic peace. That's the lot of the tame land-birds that haunt the sheltered copse."

"And cannot one have sympathy with these?"

"Oh, yes. I've often stopped to listen while a speckled thrush sang its love-song among the bare ash-boughs in our rain-swept North. The joyful trilling goes straight to one's heart."

"And lingers there?"

"Where our thrushes sing, you can, if you listen, hear the distant roar of the sea. It's a more insistent call than the other."

"But only if you listen! Cannot you close your ears?"

"That might be wiser. It depends upon your temperament."

Evelyn was silent for the next minute or two, and Grahame mused. He had felt the charm of the girl's beauty, and suspected in her a spirit akin to his. She had courage, originality, and, he thought, a longing, hitherto curbed by careful social training, to venture beyond the borders of a tame, conventional life. It was possible that he might strengthen it; but this would not be playing a straight game. For all that, he was tempted, and he smiled as he recalled that in earlier days his ancestors had stolen their brides.

"Why are you amused?" Evelyn asked.