CHAPTER XI
A LIVELY EXPERIENCE OF CUBAN HOSPITALITY
"Good-bye, old man! Good luck, and hope we shall meet again soon."
With these words, accompanied by a warm hand-clasp, Ensign Dick Comly stepped into his boat, and it was shoved off from the bit of Cuban beach on which Ridge Norris had just been landed. For a couple of minutes the young trooper stood motionless, listening with strained ears to the lessening sound of muffled oars. It was the last link connecting him with home, country, and safety. For a moment he was possessed of such a panic that he was on the point of shouting for Comly to come back and take him away. It did not seem as though he could be left there alone in the dark, and amid all the crowding terrors of that unknown land.
Just then Señorita, who stood dripping and shivering beside him, rubbed her wet nose softly against his cheek, as though begging for sympathy, and in an instant his courage was restored. It was enough that another creature more helpless than he was dependent upon him for guidance and protection.
"It's all right, girl," he whispered, throwing an arm about the mare's neck. "We'll stick to each other and pull through somehow." Then plucking a handful of dried grass, he gave the animal a brisk rubbing that warmed them both. By the time it was finished, birds were twittering in the dense growth behind them, and the eastern sky was suffused with the glow of coming day.
Knowing nothing of his surroundings, nor what eyes might in a few minutes more discover these new features of the beach, Ridge now removed his slender belongings to a hiding-place behind some bushes, where he also fastened Señorita. Then he set forth to explore the shore with the hope of finding a path into the interior; for to force a way through the tangled chaparral that everywhere approached close to the water's edge seemed hopeless.
He had not gone a dozen paces when Señorita uttered a shrill neigh of distress at being thus deserted, and began a noisy struggle to break loose. With a muttered exclamation of dismay Ridge ran back. It was evident that the mare would not consent to be left.
"Very well," said the young man. "If you can't be reasonable and remain quietly behind for a few minutes, we must make our exploration in company. Perhaps it is better so, after all, for when I do discover a trail we shall be ready to take instant advantage of it, and get the more quickly away from this unpleasantly conspicuous place."
While thus talking in a low tone to the mare, Ridge was also equipping her for the road. He had just finished tightening the saddle-girth and was about to mount, when Señorita uttered a snort indicative of some strange presence. Turning quickly, her master was confronted by a sight that caused his heart to sink like lead. Only a few paces away stood a young man of dark but handsome features, clad in a well-worn suit of linen and a broad-brimmed palmetto hat. A military belt filled with cartridges encircled his waist, and from it hung an empty scabbard of untanned cowhide, designed to carry a machete. With that weapon held in one hand and a cocked pistol levelled full at Ridge in the other, he presented the appearance of a first-class brigand.
The young trooper made a movement towards his own revolver, but it was instantly checked by the stranger, who said, sternly, in Spanish:
"Hold there! If you but touch a weapon I shall shoot you dead! You are my prisoner, and will obey my commands. That I am prepared to enforce them I will show you."
With this he sounded a low whistle that was answered by a rustle in the bushes, from which half a dozen armed ragamuffins of all shades of swarthiness, from jet black to light chocolate, appeared as though by magic. All were provided with machetes, some carried rifles, and each looked as though it would afford him the greatest pleasure to cut into small pieces the stranger who had invaded their territory.
"You see," said their leader, with a smile, "that you are hopelessly surrounded, and that with a nod I can have you killed."
"Yes, I see," replied Ridge, "and I should be pleased to know into whose hands I have fallen. Are you Cubano or a Spaniard?"
"And I will ask if you are American or Spaniard?"
"But my question came first," insisted Ridge.
"While I am in a position to have mine answered," replied the other, again smiling. "But I will not press it at this moment. We will first seek a place better suited to conversation, since here we are liable to be interrupted. The American gunboats have an unpleasant habit of dropping shells among any party whom they may discover on the beach. Then, too, many Cubanos have been seen about here lately, and they might molest us, while it is also nearly time for the Spanish lancha that patrols this coast at sunrise and sunset. So you see-- Disarm him!"
This last was an order to two men who had moved noiselessly up behind Ridge while his attention was diverted by their leader. Now they seized our young trooper, took his weapons, and marched him away, though allowing him to retain his hold on Señorita's bridle. For a few paces they crashed through the underbrush, hacking a rude path for the mare with their machetes as they went. Then they struck a dim trail that ended at a grass-grown and little-used road. Crossing this, they entered the grounds of what had evidently been a fine plantation, though a young forest growth was now rapidly spreading over its once well-cultivated fields. A weedy approach between rows of noble trees led to the blackened ruins of a large house and outlying buildings. The stone walls were already over-run with a tangle of vines from which flamed blood-red blossoms. Several horses cropped the rank grass about these ruins, and into one of them, which had been given a temporary thatch of palm leaves, the prisoner was led.
"Here we had begun to break our fast when your mare notified us of your proximity," said the leader, who had already motioned to his men to loose their hold on the young American. "Now if you will honor us with your company, we will resume that interrupted pleasure. Manuel, we wait to be served."
Upon this a grinning negro brought in a basketful of yams that had evidently been roasted among the ashes of an open fire, and set it on a rude table. Beside it he placed a calabash containing a drink mixed of water, lime-juice, and brown sugar. "Let us eat," said the host, reaching for one of the ash-encoated yams. "But hold," he added, as though with a sudden thought. "Excuse me for a moment." Thus saying, he stepped outside, only to return with Ridge's saddle-bags, which he coolly opened. "Coffee, as I live!" he cried, "and hard biscuit, the first bread I have seen in many a month! Señor, we are under obligations to you for these welcome additions to our menu. Manuel, hast thou forgotten how to make coffee, strong, and black as thine own ebony face? Waste thou not one precious grain, or, by holy St. Jago, I will blow out thy meagre brains."
Provoked as Ridge was at seeing his entire stock of provisions thus appropriated to be expended on a single meal, he was not in a position to remonstrate. So, a little later, when a revised edition of breakfast was pronounced ready, he sat down with the host whom he did not yet know whether to consider as friend or foe, and ate heartily of the food thus provided.
The furnishing of that rude table was unique, for, mingled with shells from the beach and those of cocoanuts, both of which were used in place of cups, gourds, plantain-leaves, and wooden trays, appeared several dishes of cut glass and dainty china, generally cracked or chipped, and looking wofully out of place.
Seeing that Ridge noticed these, the host said, carelessly:
"Ah yes, señor, we have seen better days!" Then, lighting a cigarette, he continued, more sternly, "Now, sir, can you give any reason why I should not have you led out and shot as a spy?"
"You would not dare do such a thing!" replied Ridge, indignantly.
"Oh! wouldn't I? My friend, you do not realize into whose hands you have fallen. Now, merely to prove that I have both the inclination and power to carry out my threat, I will have you shot. Lope! Garzo!"
Two of the ragged bandits immediately appeared.
"Bind me the arms of this man and blindfold him."
The order was deftly obeyed.
"Now take him from my sight and shoot him."
Seizing Ridge by the shoulders, the men began to drag him away.
Until this moment he had not known whether to acknowledge himself an American or claim to be a Spaniard, nor had he believed that the extremely courteous leader of bandits with whom he had just breakfasted, and who might be either a Cuban patriot or a Spanish guerilla, would do him serious injury. Now, moved by an agony of terror, he shouted out the word whispered to him a few hours before by the commander of the Speedy, the secret countersign of the Cuban Junta.
Its effect was magical. The men who were dragging him to a summary execution loosed their hold and stared at him in amazement, while the young leader sprang to where Ridge stood, tore the bandages from his eyes, severed his bonds, and embraced him.
"Why, my brother, did you not disclose your identity long ago?" he said.
"Because," replied Ridge, in a voice that still trembled from his recent fright, "I knew not to which side you belonged."
"What! Did you for a moment think that I might be a vile Spaniard? I, Enrico del Concha, a Cuban of the Cubans? Alas! that such a suspicion should fall upon one of my name."
"And what," inquired Ridge, "did you take me for?"
"A Spanish spy, of course. Do you not speak the language without even a Cuban accent? Did you not decline to tell me how or what you were? Above all, did you not carry on your person despatches addressed to certain Spanish generals?"
Ridge clapped a hand to his breast pocket.
"Yes, señor, they are gone," laughed the other.
"My rogues are clever thieves, and took them from you when we first met, together with your money, for which they were searching. Hereafter you must provide for your private papers a place of greater safety. Now let us have one more cup of that delicious coffee while you confide to me who you are and why you are here."