CHAPTER VI
La Gloria, the chief port and capital of the Republic of Equinata, is charmingly situated on the west side of an admirably shaped bay, and is land-locked, save for a distance of about half-a-mile. It boasts a population numbering upwards of thirty thousand, of which only some ten or twelve thousand are white, the remainder being half-castes, quadroons, mulattoes, and negroes unadulterated. The city possesses some fine buildings, notable among which is the Cathedral of San Pedro, a handsome edifice, though somewhat damaged by the earthquake of '83. The Houses of Parliament are also imposing structures, as befits a land where every man is a politician, and no boy knows what may be in store for him. There is also the President's palace, and, of course, an opera house, and equally of course a long stretch of barracks, where the soldiers would seem to spend their time smoking cigarettes and hatching plots against their superiors.
As we passed through the Heads and entered the harbour, it struck me I had never looked upon a fairer scene. The blue waters of the bay, the white houses peeping out from amid the wealth of foliage, and the mountains rising tier upon tier behind, made up as pretty a picture as the eye of man could desire to dwell upon. We had scarcely come to anchor before a boat put off to us, pulled by four stalwart niggers, and carrying a much-uniformed official, who sat beside the coxswain. He proved to be the health officer—a voluble little Spaniard, with a magnificent idea of his own importance. As soon as his boat was alongside he ran up the ladder to the gangway with the agility of a monkey, and made his way to the place where Captain Ferguson was waiting to receive him. During the years I had been in the South American trade, I had managed to pick up a considerable smattering of Spanish, enough at any rate to make myself understood by the Dons. I was not nearly so fluent with it, however, as was Ferguson, who, I soon discovered, could talk the lingo as well as any swell of Aragon. As soon as they had transacted their business, the latter brought the health officer along to the saloon whither I had descended, and where I was introduced to him as the owner of the yacht.
"You possess a most beautiful vessel, señor," he said, bowing before me as if he would never be able to straighten his back again.
"And you a most beautiful harbour and city," I replied, resolved not to be outdone in the matter of compliments.
"Am I to believe that this can be your first visit to Equinata, señor?" he asked as if in astonishment.
"Yes, my first," I replied in my best Trevelyan manner. "I can assure you, however, that I am charmed with it, most charmed."
"Ah, you must wait until you have been ashore," he continued, "then you will indeed be surprised. The Plaza, the Almeda, the Opera House, and the President's palace. Ah!" Here he paused and gave an airy wave of his hand as if to signify that, when I should come to view these wonders, I might indeed describe the city as being beautiful; until then, however, I could not pretend to any real notion of its glories.
"I shall be delighted to make its acquaintance," I returned, "and also to pay my respects to your most illustrious President, who, I hear, is beloved by all his people."
"Ah, the good President," said the little man, but without any great enthusiasm. "And his niece—the beautiful Señorita Dolores. I raise my glass to the most beautiful woman in Equinata." Thereupon, with his eyes turned to the deck above, he drank solemnly to the health of the lady of whose existence I then heard for the first time.