"And I must confess that I am too troubled and too disturbed to sleep," said Mr. Brindle.
"Then why not fill the time in till morning dawns by telling us about this affair?" cried Hal. "We are all agreed that we cannot sleep; we have done our utmost for those who suffered during or after the explosion, and now we have nothing to do but to lounge here, and fume and fret till to-morrow. Be kind to us, Mr. Brindle. Stir your memory, and let us know the ins and outs of the whole story."
"Well, I will; and if I try your patience, bear with me a little," replied Mr. Brindle. "The quarrel is not of a day's making, nor does it turn upon one single point. Cuba is the cause of it all, and as we are here, perhaps no more fitting spot could be selected for a description of the rebellion and bloodshed which have caused trouble between Spain and America."
CHAPTER IX
"THE EVER-FAITHFUL ISLAND"
Dressed in a clean suit of white, with wide-open waist-coat and expanse of glossy shirt, the whole set off by a black evening bow, Mr. Brindle stalked moodily up and down the deck for several minutes, his hands thrust into his pockets, and his chin resting upon his chest. He was evidently in deep thought, and Hal, with Dora and Gerald close at hand, watched him curiously, wondering when he would commence to speak.
"It is hard to know exactly where to start," he said at last, coming to a stop in front of them, where he leaned against the ship's rail, and producing a cigar, bit off the end with a nervous snap. "It is difficult, I confess, to fulfill my promise. To begin with, I am shaken by the horrible calamity we have witnessed to-night. My grief is great and heartfelt for those poor fellows who have been so ruthlessly slain, and loathing and contempt for the inhuman wretches who perpetrated the ghastly deed are so much in my thoughts that I find it difficult to fix my mind upon the subject before us, or grasp its details with sufficient clearness to narrate them to you in lucid form.
"Still, a promise is a promise, and I will therefore do my best to tell you why there is bad blood between Spain and America, and why I fear war in the immediate future.
"Just fancy, this, the most beautiful, and once the most prosperous, of Western isles, is still known in Spain as 'the ever-faithful island of Cuba'! And yet there is scarcely a single Spaniard who is not conversant with the true state of affairs, and is not very well aware that Cuba is in revolt, and has been so for close upon fifty years. Go to the country of the Dons and question her lower classes—I mean the poor people who exist by tilling the soil, or earn a livelihood in factories or workshops. I will answer for it that hundreds, aye, thousands even, curse this fair isle, curse the government that rules it so evilly, and the necessity that has called, and still calls, for their sons to go across the seas and die, in the depths of jungle and morass.