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J >> Joseph Conrad and F.M. Hueffer >> Romance




"Never mind the scoundrels; they can do nothing more to you."

Sebright dismissed the _Lugarenos_ out of my life. The unfavourable
circumstance for us was that the captain had gone ashore. The ship was
ready for sea; absolutely cleared; papers on board; could go in an hour
if it came to that; but, at any rate, next morning at daylight, before
O'Brien could get wind of the Riego _drogher_ arriving. Every movement
in port was reported to the _Juez_; but this was a feast, and he would
not hear of it probably till next day. Even _fiestas_ had their uses
sometimes. In his anxiety to discover Seraphina, O'Brien had played such
pranks amongst the foreign shipping (after the _Lion_ had been drawn
blank) that the whole consular body had addressed a joint protest to the
Governor, and the _Juez_ had been told to moderate his efforts. No ship
was to be visited more than once. Still I had seen, myself, soldiers
going in a boat to board the American brigantine: a garlic-eating
crew, poisoning the cabins with their breath, and poking their noses
everywhere. Of course, since our supposed drowning, there had been a
lull; but the least thing might start him off again. He was reputed to
be almost out of his mind with sorrow, arising from his great attachment
for the family. He walked about as if distracted, suffered from
insomnia, and had not been fit to preside in his court for over a week,
now.

"But don't you expect Williams back on board directly?"

He shook his head.

"No. Not even to-night. He told the missus he was going to spend the day
out of town with his consignee, but he tipped me the wink. This evening
he will send a note that the consignee detains him for the night,
because the letters are not ready, and I'll have to go to her and lie,
the best I am able, that it's quite the usual thing. Damn!"

I was appalled. This was too bad. And, as I raged against the dissolute
habits of the man, Sebright entreated me to moderate my voice so as not
to be heard in the cabin. Did I expect the man to change his skin?
He had been doing the gay bachelor about here all his life; had never
suspected he was doing anything particularly scandalous either.

"He married the old girl out of chivalry,--the romantic fat beggar,--and
never realized what it meant till she came out with him," Sebright went
on whispering to me. "He loves and honours her more than you may think.
That is so, for all your shrugs, Mr. Kemp. It is not so easy to break
the old connection as you imagine. Why, the other evening, two of his
dissolute habits (as you call them) came off, with mantillas over their
heads, in a boat, in company with a male scallawag of sorts, pinching a
mandolin, and serenaded the ship for him. We were all in the cabin after
supper, and poor Mrs. Williams, with her eyes still red from weeping
over you people, says to us, 'How sweet and melancholy that sounds,'
says she. You should have seen the skipper rolling his eyes at me. The
perspiration of fright was simply pouring down his face. I rushed on
deck, and it took me all my Spanish to stop them from coming aboard. I
had to swear by all the saints, and the honour of a _caballero_, that
there was a wife. They went away laughing at last. They did not want to
make trouble. They simply had not believed the tale before. Thought it
was some dodge of his. I could hear their peals of laughter all the way
up the harbour. These are the difficulties we have. The old girl must
be protected from that sort of eye-opener, if I've to forswear my soul.
I've been keeping guard over her ever since we arrived here--besides
looking out for you people, as long as there was any hope."

I was greatly cast down. Perhaps Williams was justified in making
concessions to the associates of his former jolly existence to save some
outrage to the feelings of his consort. I did not want to criticise his
motives--but what about getting him back on board at once?

Sebright was biting his lip. The necessity was pressing, he admitted.

He had an idea where to find him. But for himself he could not
_go_--that was evident. Neither would I wish him to leave the ship, even
for a moment, now Seraphina was on board. An unexpected visit from some
zealous police understrapper, a momentary want of presence of mind
on the part of the timid steward; there was enough to bring about our
undoing. Moreover, as he had said, he must remain on guard over the
missus. But whom to send? There was not a single boatman about. The
harbour was a desert of water and dressed ships; but even the crews
of most of them were ashore--"on a regular spree of praying," as he
expressed it vexedly. As to our own crew, not one of them knew anything
more of Spanish than a few terms of abuse, perhaps. Their hearts were in
the right place, but as to their wits, he wouldn't trust a single one of
them by himself--no, not an inch away from the ship. How could he send
one of them ashore with the wineshops yawning wide on all sides, and not
enough lingo to ask for the way. Sure to get drunk, to get lost, to get
into trouble in some way, and in the end get picked up by the police.
The slightest hitch of that sort would call attention upon the ship--and
with O'Brien to draw inferences.... He rubbed his head.

"I suppose I'll have to go," he grunted. "But I am known; I may be
followed. They may wonder why I rush to fetch my skipper. And yet I feel
this is the time. The very time. Between now and four o'clock to-morrow
morning we have an almost absolute certitude of getting away with you
two. This is our chance and your chance."

He was lost in perplexity. Then, as if inspired, I cried:

"I will go!"

"The devil!" he said, amazed. "Would you?"

I rushed at him with arguments. No one would know me. My clothes were
all right and clean enough for a feast-day. I could slip through the
crowds un-perceived. The principal thing was to get Seraphina out of
O'Brien's reach. At the worst, I could always find means to get away
from Cuba by myself. There was Mrs. Williams to look after her, and if I
missed Williams by some mischance, and failed to make my way back to the
ship in time, I charged them solemnly not to wait, but sail away at the
earliest possible moment.

I said much more than this. I was eloquent. I became as if suddenly
intoxicated by the nearness of freedom and safety. The thought of being
at sea with her in a few hours away from all trouble of mind or heart,
made my head swim. It seemed to me I should go mad if I was not allowed
to go. My limbs tingled with eagerness. I stuttered with excitement.

"Well--after all!" Sebright mumbled.

"I must go in and tell her," I said.

"No. Don't do that," said that wise young man. "Have you made up your
mind?"

"Yes, I have," I answered. "But she's reasonable."

"Still," he argued, "the old girl is sure to say that nothing of the
kind is necessary. The captain told her that he was coming back for tea.
What could we say to that? We can't explain the true state of the case,
and if you persist in going, it will look like pig-headed folly on your
part."

He threw his writing-desk open for me.

"Write to her. Write down your arguments--what you have been telling me.
It's a fact that the door stands open for a few hours. As to the rest,"
he pursued, with a weary sigh, "I'll do the lying to pass it off with
Mrs. Williams."

Thus it came about that, with only two flimsy bulkheads between us, I
wrote my first letter to Seraphina, while Sebright went on deck to make
arrangements to send me ashore. He was some time away; long enough for
me to pour out on paper the exultation of my thought, the confidence of
my hope, my desire to have her safe at last with me upon the blue sea.
One must seize a propitious moment lest it should slip away and never
return, I wrote. I begged her to believe I was acting for the best, and
only from my great love, that could not support the thought of her being
so near O'Brien, the arch-enemy of our union. There was no separation on
the sea.

Sebright came in brusquely.

"Come along."

The American brigantine was berthed by then, close astern of the _Lion_,
and Sebright had the idea of asking her mate to let his boat (it was in
the water) put ashore a visitor he had on board. His own were hoisted,
he explained, and there were no boatmen plying for hire.

His request was granted. I was pulled ashore by two American sailors,
who never said a word to each other, and evidently took me for a
Spaniard.

It was an excellent idea. By borrowing the Yankee's boat, the track of
my connection with the _Lion_ was covered. The silent seamen landed me,
as asked by Sebright, near the battery on the sand, quite clear of the
city.

I thanked them in Spanish, and, traversing a piece of open ground, made
a wide circle to enter the town from the land side, to still further
cover my tracks. I passed through a sort of squalid suburb of huts,
hovels, and negro shanties. I met very few people, and these mostly old
women, looking after the swarms of children of all colours and sizes,
playing in the dust. Many curs sunned themselves among heaps of
rubbish, and took not the trouble to growl at me. Then I came out upon
a highroad, and turned my face towards the city lying under a crude
sunshine, and in a ring of metallic vibrations.

Better houses with plastered fronts washed yellow or blue, and even
pinky red, alternated with tumble-down wooden structures. A crenellated
squat gateway faced me with a carved shield of stone above the open
gloom. A young smooth-faced mulatto, in some sort of dirty uniform, but
wearing new straw slippers with blue silk rosettes over his naked feet,
lounged cross-legged at the door of a kind of guardroom. He held a big
cigar tilted up between his teeth, and ogled me, like a woman, out of
the corners of his languishing eyes. He said not a word.

Fortunately my face had tanned to a dark hue. Enrico's clothes would
not attract attention to me, of course. The light colour of my hair was
concealed by the handkerchief bound under my hat; my footsteps echoed
loudly under the vault, and I penetrated into the heart of the city.

And directly, it seemed to me, I had stepped back three hundred years. I
had never seen anything so old; this was the abandoned inheritance of
an adventurous race, that seemed to have thrown all its might, all its
vigour, and all its enthusiasm into one supreme effort of valour and
greed. I had read the history of the Spanish Conquest; and, looking at
these great walls of stone, I felt my heart moved by the same wonder,
and by the same sadness. With what a fury of heroism and faith had this
whole people flung itself upon the opulent mystery of the New World.
Never had a nation clasped closer to its heart its dream of greatness,
of glory, and of romance. There had been a moment in its destiny, when
it could believe that Heaven itself smiled upon its massacres. I walked
slowly, awed by the solitude. They had conquered and were no more, and
these wrought stones remained to testify gloomily to the death of their
success. Heavy houses, immense walls, pointed arches of the doorways,
cages of iron bars projecting balcony wise around each square window.
And not a soul in sight, not a head looking out from these dwellings,
these houses of men, these ancient abodes of hate, of base rivalries,
of avarice, of ambitions--these old nests of love, these witnesses of
a great romance now past and gone below the horizon. They seemed to
return mournfully my wondering glances; they seemed to look at me and
say, "What do you here? We have seen other men, heard other footsteps!"
The peace of the cloister brooded over these aged blocks of masonry,
stained with the green trails of mosses, infiltrated with shadows.

At times the belfry of a church would volley a tremendous crash of
bronze into the narrow streets; and between whiles I could hear the
faint echoes of far-off chanting, the brassy distant gasps of trombones.
A woman in black whisked round a corner, hurrying towards the route of
the procession. I took the same direction. From a wine-shop, yawning
like a dirty cavern in the basement of a palatial old building, issued
suddenly a brawny ruffian in rags, wiping his thick beard with the
back of a hairy paw. He lurched a little, and began to walk before me
hastily. I noticed the glitter of a gold earring in the lobe of his huge
ear. His cloak was frayed at the bottom into a perfect fringe and, as he
flung it about, he showed a good deal of naked skin under it. His calves
were bandaged crosswise; his peaked hat seemed to have been trodden upon
in filth before he had put it on his head. Suddenly I stopped short. A
_Lugareno_!

We were then in the empty part of a narrow street, whose lower end
was packed, close with a crowd viewing the procession which was filing
slowly past, along the wide thoroughfare. It was too late for me to go
back. Moreover, the ruffian paid no attention to me. It was best to
go on. The people, packed between the houses with their backs to us,
blocked our way. I had to wait.

He took his position near me in the rear of the last rank of the crowd.
He must have been inclined to repentance in his cups, because he began
to mumble and beat his breast. Other people in the crowd were also
beating their breasts. In front of me I had the facade of a building
which, according to the little plan of my route Sebright drew for me,
was the Palace of Justice. It had a peristyle of ugly columns at the top
of a flight of steps. A cordon of infantry kept the roadway clear. The
singing went on without interruption; and I saw tall saints of wood,
gilt and painted red and blue, pass, borne shoulder-high, swaying and
pitching above the heads of the crowd like the masts of boats in a
seaway. Crucifixes were carried, flashing in the sun; an enormous
Madonna, which must have weighed half a ton, tottered across my line of
sight, dressed up in gold brocade and with a wreath of paper roses on
her head. A military band sent a hurricane blast of brasses as it
went by. Then all was still at once, except the silvery tinkling of
hand-bells. The people before me fell on their knees together and left
me standing up alone.

As a matter of fact I had been caught gaping at the ceremony quite new
to me, and had not expected a move of that sort. The ruffian kneeling
within a foot of me thumped and bellowed in an ecstasy of piety. As to
me, I own I stood there looking with impatience at a passing canopy that
seemed all gold, with three priests in gorgeous capes walking slowly
under it, and I absolutely forgot to take off my hat. The bearded
ruffian looked up from the midst of his penitential exercises, and
before I realized I was outraging his or anybody else's feelings, leaped
up with a yell, "Thou sacrilegious infidel," and sent my hat flying off
my head.

Just then the band crashed again, the bells pealed out, and no one heard
his shout. With one blow of my fist I sent him staggering backwards. The
procession had passed; people were rising from their knees and pouring
out of the narrow street. Swearing, he fumbled under his cloak; I
watched him narrowly; but in a moment he sprang away and lost himself
amongst the moving crowd. I picked up my hat.

For a time I stood very uneasy, and then retreated under a doorway.
Nothing happened, and I was anxious to get on. It was possible to
cross the wide street now. That _Lugareno_ did not know me. He was a
_Lugareno_, though. No doubt about it. I would make a dash now; but
first I stole a hasty glance at the plan of my route which I kept in the
hollow of my palm.

"Senor," said a voice. I lifted my head.

An elderly man in black, with a white moustache and imperial, stood
before me. The ruffian was stalking up to his side, and four soldiers
with an officer were coming behind. I took in the whole disaster at a
glance.

"The Senor is no doubt a foreigner--perhaps an Englishman," said the
official in black. He had a lace collar, a chain on his neck, velvet
breeches, a well-turned leg in black stockings. His voice was soft.

I was so disconcerted that I nodded at him.

"The Senor is young and inconsiderate. Religious feelings ought to be
respected." The official in black was addressing me in sad and measured
tones. "This good Catholic," he continued, eying the bearded ruffian
dubiously, "has made a formal statement to me of your impious
demonstration."

What a fatal accident, I thought, appalled; but I tried to explain the
matter. I expressed regret. The other gazed at me benevolently.

"Nevertheless, Senor, pray follow me. Even for your own safety. You must
give some account of yourself."

This I was firmly resolved not to give. But the _Lugareno_ had been
going through a pantomime of scrutinizing my person. He crouched up,
stepped back, then to one side.

"This worthy man," began the official in black, "complains of your
violence, too...."

"This worthy man," I shouted stupidly, "is a pirate. He is a Rio Medio
_Lugareno_. He is a criminal."

The official seemed astounded, and I saw my idiotic mistake at once--too
late!

"Strange," he murmured, and, at the same time, the ruffianly wretch
began to shout:

"It is he! The traitor! The heretic! I recognize him!"

"Peace, peace!" said the man in black.

"I demand to be taken before the Juez Don Patricio for a deposition,"
shrieked the _Lugareno_. A crowd was beginning to collect.

The official and the officer exchanged consulting glances. At a word
from the latter, the soldiers closed upon me.

I felt utterly overcome, as if the earth had crumbled under my feet, and
the heavens had been rent in twain.

I walked between my captors across the street amongst hooting knots of
people, and up the steps of the portico, as if in a frightful dream.

In the gloomy, chilly hall they made me wait. A soldier stood on each
side of me, and there, absolutely before my eyes on a little table,
reposed Mrs. Williams' shawl and Sebright's cap. This was the very hall
of the Palace of Justice of which Sebright had spoken. It was more than
ever like an absurd dream, now. But I had the leisure to collect my
wits. I could not claim the Consul's protection simply because I should
have to give him a truthful account of myself, and that would mean
giving up Seraphina. The Consul could not protect her. But the _Lion_
would sail on the morrow. Sebright would understand it if Williams
did not. I trusted Sebright's sagacity. Yes, she would sail tomorrow
evening. A day and a half. If I could only keep the knowledge of
Seraphina from O'Brien till then--she was safe, and I should be safe,
too, for my lips would be unsealed. I could claim the protection of my
Consul and proclaim the villainy of the _Juez_.

"Go in there now, Senor, to be confronted with your accuser," said the
official in black, appearing before me. He pointed at a small door
to the left. My heart was beating steadily. I felt a sort of intrepid
resignation.




PART FIFTH -- THE LOT OF MAN




CHAPTER ONE

"Why have I been brought here, your worships?" I asked, with a great
deal of firmness.

There were two figures in black, the one beside, the other behind a
large black table. I was placed in front of them, between two soldiers,
in the centre of a large, gaunt room, with bare, dirty walls, and the
arms of Spain above the judge's seat.

"You are before the _Juez de la Primiera Instancia_," said the man in
black beside the table. He wore a large and shadowy tricorn. "Be silent,
and respect the procedure."

It was, without doubt, excellent advice. He whispered some words in the
ear of the Judge of the First Instance. It was plain enough to me that
the judge was a quite inferior official, who merely decided whether
there were any case against the accused; he had, even to his clerk, an
air of timidity, of doubt.

I said, "But I insist on knowing...."

The clerk said, "In good time...." And then, in the same tone of
disinterested official routine, he spoke to the _Lugareno_, who, from
beside the door, rolled very frightened eyes from the judges and the
clerk to myself and the soldiers--"Advance."

The judge, in a hurried, perfunctory voice, put questions to the
_Lugareno_; the clerk scratched with a large quill on a sheet of paper.

"Where do you come from?"

"The town of Rio Medio, Excellency."

"Of what occupation?"

"Excellency--a few goats...."

"Why are you here?"

"My daughter, Excellency, married Pepe of the posada in the Calle...."

The judge said, "Yes, yes," with an unsanguine impatience. The
_Lugareno's_ dirty hands jumped nervously on the large rim of his limp
hat.

"You lodge a complaint against the senor there."

The clerk pointed the end of his quill towards me.

"I? God forbid, Excellency," the _Lugareno_ bleated. "The _Alguazil_ of
the Criminal Court instructed me to be watchful.

"You lodge an information, then?" the _juez_ said.

"Maybe it is an information, Excellency," the _Lugareno_ answered, "as
regards the senor there."

The _Alguazil_ of the Criminal Court had told him, and many other men
of Rio Medio, to be on the watch for me, "undoubtedly touching what had
happened, as all the world knew, in Rio Medio."

He looked me full in the face with stupid insolence, and said:

"At first I much doubted, for all the world said this man was
dead--though others said worse things. Perhaps, who knows?"

He had seen me, he said, many times in Rio Medio, outside the Casa; on
the balcony of the Casa, too. And he was sure that I was a heretic and
an evil person.

It suddenly struck me that this man--I was undoubtedly familiar with his
face--must be the lieutenant of Manuel-del-Popolo, his boon companion.
Without doubt, he had seen me on the balcony of the Casa.

He had gained a lot of assurance from the conciliatory manner of the
_Juez_, and said suddenly, in a tentative way:

"An evil person; a heretic? Who knows? Perhaps it was he who incited
some people there to murder his senoria, the illustrious Don."

I said almost contemptuously, "Surely the charge against me is most
absurd? Everyone knows who I am."

The old judge made a gentle, tired motion with his hand.

"Senor," he said, "there is no charge against you--except that no
one knows who you are. You were in a place where very lamentable
and inexplicable things happened; you are now in Havana: you have no
passport. I beg of you to remain calm. These things are all in order."

I hadn't any doubt that, as far as he knew, he was speaking the truth.
He was a man, very evidently, of a weary and naive simplicity. Perhaps
it was really true--that I should only have to explain; perhaps it was
all over.

O'Brien came into the room with the casual step of an official from an
office entering another's room.

It was as if seeing me were a thing that he very much disliked--that
he came because he wanted to satisfy himself of my existence, of my
identity, and my being alone. The slow stare that he gave me did not
mitigate the leisureliness of his entry. He walked behind the table; the
judge rose with immense deference; with his eternal smile, and no
word spoken, he motioned the judge to resume the examination; he stood
looking at the clerk's notes meditatively, the smile still round lips
that had a nervous tremble, and eyes that had dark marks beneath them.
He seemed as if he were still smiling just after having been violently
shaken.

The judge went on examining the _Lugareno_.

"Do you know whence the senor came?"

"Excellency, Excellency...." The man stuttered, his eyes on O'Brien's
face.

"Nor how long he was in the town of Rio Medio?" the judge went on.

O'Brien suddenly drooped towards his ear. "All those things are known,
senor, my colleague," he said, and began to whisper.

The old judge showed signs of very naive astonishment and joy.

"Is it possible?" he exclaimed. "This man? He is very young to have
committed such crimes."

The clerk hurriedly left the room. He returned with many papers.
O'Brien, leaning over the judge's shoulder, emphasized words with one
finger. What new villainies could O'Brien be meditating? It wasn't
possibly the _Lugareno's_ suggestion that I had lured men to murder Don
Balthasar? Was it merely that I had infringed some law in carrying off
Seraphina?

The old judge said, "How lucky, Don Patricio! We may now satisfy the
English admiral. What good fortune!"

He suddenly sat straight in his chair; O'Brien behind him scrutinized my
face--to see how I should bear what was coming.

"What is your name?" the judge asked peremptorily.

I said, "Juan--John Kemp. I am of noble English family; I am well enough
known. Ask the Senor O'Brien."

On O'Brien's shaken face the smile hardened.

"I heard that in Rio Medio the senor was called... was called..." He
paused and appealed to the _Lugareno_.

"What was he called--the _capataz_ the man who led the picaroons?"

The _Lugareno_ stammered, "Nikola... Nikola el Escoces, Senor Don
Patricio."

"You hear?" O'Brien asked the judge. "This villager identifies the man."

"Undoubtedly--undoubtedly," the _Juez_ said. "We need no more
evidence.... You, Senor, have seen this villain in Rio Medio, this
villager identifies him by name."

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