Father Herman drew back an old leather curtain and the smell of incense met Kit as he stood at the door while the sailors went forward with their load. The church was nearly dark, but Kit saw it had some beauty and there were objects that hinted at more prosperous days. At the other end, a ruby lamp glimmered and a wax candle burned with a clear flame before a statue of the Virgin. Kit knew whence the candle came and that Hattie Askew had knelt on the stones, beneath it, praying that her husband might get well. Then he looked at Father Herman, with a doubt in his mind.
The other met his glance and smiled. "The greatest of these is charity," he said in Latin, and resumed in fine Castilian: "He was our benefactor, a man who kept his word, and with such a wife I think our faith was his. It is a gracious sentiment that they should not be parted."
"In a sense," Kit said quietly, "I think they have not been parted yet.
At the last he said, with confidence, he was going to meet his wife."
"Who knows?" said Father Herman. "There is much that is dark; but one felt that his spirit reached out after hers. Well, I knew he would come back; I have long expected him."
He went forward and lighted more candles when the sailors put down the coffin, and the noise their boots made jarred Kit's nerves as they came back. The light spread, touching the bare walls and tawdry decorations about the shrines. It was a poor little church, falling into ruin, and the beauty its pious builders had given it was vanishing. Yet something redeemed it from being commonplace, and Kit felt a strange emotional stirring as his eyes rested on the dim ruby lamp and the rude black coffin. He thought the light of love could not be quenched and knew the tender romance that had burned in the heart of the old Buccaneer. It was with something of an effort he turned away, and followed Father Herman across the corral.
Two hours later, red torches flared in the dark as they laid Adam in his grave, and Kit, worn by anxiety and physical strain, listened dully to the solemn Latin office. Then, when the old priest's voice died away, he went back to the mission, where he fell asleep and slept twelve hours.
In the morning, he sat beneath a broken arch that had once formed part of a cloister. Outside the patch of shadow, the sun beat upon dazzling sand, and a few vivid green palm-fronds hung over a ruined wall. Beyond this the forest rose, dark and forbidding, against the glaring sky. Although the rest had refreshed Kit, he felt as if he had got older in the last few days and now the strain had slackened he was lonely. So far, he had obeyed orders and when doubtful looked to Adam for a lead, but Adam had gone and left him control. All that belonged to his youth had vanished; he was a man, with a man's responsibilities, and a man's problems to solve. Presently Father Herman came up and sat down opposite. Although he looked feeble, his glance was clear and kind.
"This house is yours, señor, and I am your servant," he said. "Yet I cannot hope that you will remain long and the times are disturbed. If I can help—"
"Since the rebels know I am here, it would not be safe to stay, but I cannot reach Salinas Point before the steamer sails," Kit replied. "I must get to Havana as soon as possible."
Father Herman thought for a few minutes and then resumed: "A small schooner is loading at a beach not far off and I know the patron. He would take you to Arenas, where the president has supporters and you might get a ship. I think he sails to-night, but I will send a message."