Chapter Eight.
Señor Alvaros gets to work.
For fully a quarter of an hour after the departure of Alvaros, Don Hermoso sat plunged in a deep and somewhat anxious reverie. He scarcely knew whether he was more pleased or annoyed at what had just happened: for, on the one hand, he was at last rid of a distinctly uncongenial acquaintance, which had been almost thrust upon him in the first instance, and which had proved ever more uncongenial and unwelcome with the lapse of time; while, on the other hand, he fully recognised that he had made for himself a vindictive and implacable enemy who, although not very formidable or dangerous just then, might at any moment become so. For although Señor Montijo was one of the most important and influential persons in the island, he was a Cuban; and, as such, he was well aware that, thanks to the corruption which was then rampant among the Spanish officials of the Government, there could be no hope of justice for him if he were brought into collision with any of these officials, of whom, of course, Alvaros was one. The word of a Cuban, however important his position might be, was of absolutely no weight whatever; and Don Hermoso was fully aware that it would be no very difficult matter for Alvaros to absolutely ruin him if he chose. Yet even ruin would be preferable to seeing his beloved daughter the wife and slave of such a man as Alvaros had proved himself to be; and, for the rest, should it come to be war to the knife between them—well, he must take his chance with the rest of the Cubans, and trust to the coming revolution to enable him to hold his own.
His reverie was interrupted by the arrival of Milsom, who, having taken the Thetis into Havana harbour and snugly berthed her there, and further made every possible provision for her safety, had turned her over to the capable care of Perkins, her chief mate, and had now come on by train as far as Pinar del Rio, and from thence by Don Hermoso’s carriage, to pay his promised visit to the hacienda Montijo. He was full of glee at the unconcealed uneasiness with which the Spanish officials regarded the presence of the yacht in the harbour; and their evident belief that, despite the strict search of the vessel by the commander and lieutenant of the Tiburon, she carried, hidden away in some cleverly-contrived place of concealment, the contraband of which they had been informed by their spies on the other side of the Atlantic.
“They have put on board us no less than four custom-house officers—empleados de la aduana, as they call them—to see that nothing is surreptitiously landed from the ship,” he exclaimed with boisterous enjoyment; “and four boats now guard around us every night! Oh, they are a great people, these Spaniards!”
Then he went on to relate how, a few hours after his arrival, a boat had come alongside from the Tiburon, which was also lying in the harbour, bearing a challenge for him from Lieutenant Silvio Fernandez, her lieutenant, who demanded satisfaction from him for his insulting behaviour on the occasion of the yacht being stopped by the gunboat; and how he had accepted the challenge to fight and, being the challenged party, had chosen fists as the weapons wherewith the duel was to be fought: and he made merry over the lieutenant’s indignation when he had declined to accept swords or pistols as a substitute for fists. “Of course,” he concluded, “the fight did not come off, although I remained in Havana forty-eight hours longer than I originally intended, in order to give Señor Fernandez every chance.”
During dinner, that night, Don Hermoso related to his family and guests the particulars of the interview that had occurred between him and Alvaros in the afternoon; and if he had, even for a moment, entertained the slightest doubt as to the wisdom of the step which he had taken in declining Alvaros’ proposal and dismissing him from the house, it was finally dissipated when Señorita Isolda expressed in quite unmistakable terms her relief and gratification.
The next few days sped very pleasantly, for the young people, at any rate, who passed their time in shooting, or in taking long rides about the surrounding country; and Señorita Isolda frequently found herself contrasting the genial, hearty friendliness and chivalrous courtesy of her brother’s English friends with the stiff, haughty, overbearing manner and overweening conceit of the Spanish officers, who seemed to think that such attentions as they chose to pay her ought to be regarded as a vast condescension on their part.