The glare of the big arc-lights flooded the broad, white plaza when Dick crossed it on his way to the Hotel Magellan. The inhabitants of Santa Brigida had finished their evening meal and, as was their custom, were taking the air and listening to the military band. They were of many shades of color and different styles of dress, for dark-skinned peons in plain white cotton, chattering negroes, and grave, blue-clad Chinamen mingled with the citizens who claimed to spring from European stock. These, however, for the most part, were by no means white, and though some derived their sallow skin from Andalusian and Catalan ancestors, others showed traces of Carib origin.
The men were marked by Southern grace; the younger women had a dark, languorous beauty, and although their dress was, as a rule, an out of date copy of Parisian modes, their color taste was good, and the creamy white and soft yellow became them well. A number of the men wore white duck, with black or red sashes and Panama hats, but some had Spanish cloaks and Mexican sombreros.
Flat-topped houses, colored white and pink and lemon, with almost unbroken fronts, ran round the square. A few had green lattices and handsome iron gates to the arched entrances that ran like a tunnel through the house, but many showed no opening except a narrow slit of barred window. Santa Brigida was old, and the part near the plaza had been built four hundred years ago.
Dick glanced carelessly at the crowd as he crossed the square. He liked the music, and there was something interesting and exotic in the play of moving color, but his mind was on his work and he wondered whether he would find a man he wanted at the hotel. One could enter it by a Moorish arch that harmonized with the Eastern style of its front; but this had been added, and he went in by the older tunnel and across the patio to the open-fronted American bar that occupied a space between the balcony pillars.
He did not find his man, and after ordering some wine, lighted a cigarette and looked about while he waited to see if the fellow would come in. One or two steamship officers occupied a table close by, a Frenchman was talking excitedly to a handsome Spanish half-breed, and a fat, red-faced German with spectacles sat opposite a big glass of pale-colored beer. Dick was not interested in these, but his glance grew keener as it rested on a Spaniard, who had a contract at the irrigation works, sitting with one of Fuller’s storekeepers at the other end of the room. Though there was no reason the Spaniard should not meet the man in town, Dick wondered what they were talking about, particularly since they had chosen a table away from everybody else.
The man he wanted did not come, and by and by he determined to look for him in the hotel. He went up an outside staircase from the patio, round which the building ran, and had reached a balcony when he met Ida Fuller coming down. She stopped with a smile.
“I am rather glad to see you,” she said. “My father, who went on board the American boat, has not come back as he promised, and the French lady he left me with has gone.”
“I’m going off to a cargo vessel to ask when they’ll land our cement, and we might find out what is keeping Mr. Fuller, if you don’t mind walking to the mole.”
They left the hotel and shortly afterwards reached the mole, which sheltered the shallow harbor where the cargo lighters were unloaded. The long, smooth swell broke in flashes of green and gold phosphorescence against the concrete wall, and the moon threw a broad, glittering track across the sea. There was a rattle of cranes and winches and a noisy tug was towing a row of barges towards the land. The measured thud of her engines broke through the splash of water flung off the lighters’ bows as they lurched across the swell, and somebody on board was singing a Spanish song. Farther out, a mailboat’s gently swaying hull blazed with electric light, and astern of her the reflection of a tramp steamer’s cargo lamp quivered upon the sea. By and by, Dick, who ascertained that Fuller had not landed, hailed a steam launch, which came panting towards some steps.
“I can put you on board the American boat, and bring you back if Mr. Fuller isn’t there,” he said, and when Ida agreed, helped her into the launch.