Shortly after arriving in Jamaica, Hemming wrote a letter to Anderson, his particular friend in the Engineers. He mentioned having heard of Penthouse's outbreak, but said nothing of the occurrences of his last visit to London. He told, at a length suggestive of his profession, of the trip through Yucatan and Honduras, of his new friend, and of the adventurous passage from the coast of Central America to Kingston. He sang the praises of a free life and the glories of the tropics. He spoke of his success with the syndicate, and the probability of fighting in Cuba in the near future. He tried hard to make every line of the letter echo contentment, knowing that Anderson would, very likely, retail its contents to Miss Travers.
"My God," he said, "I was fool enough, once, to let her see the wound she made, but once is for all."
For the remainder of the morning O'Rourke found him in a low mood, and after trying, in vain, to raise his spirits with a new cigar as long as a riding-boot, he smoked the weed himself and wrote a ballad about pirates and blood. It was the ballad, complete after an hour's work, that did the business for Hemming. The swinging lines and rolling phrases, the fearful sea-oaths and unexpected rhymes started him in action. At first he was not sure whether he wanted to ride or write, but, with a little tactful persuasion from O'Rourke, decided on the former. They hired a couple of horses, went to the club, and drew several of their friends of H.M.S. Thunderer, and rode for hours, lunching late, out of town.
One morning Hemming received a cablegram from Dodder, of the New York Syndicate, telling him to stand ready for orders, and that a letter followed. In a few days the letter came. It was a friendly, though businesslike epistle, and contained a check. It ran as follows:
"MY DEAR CAPTAIN HEMMING:—Your stories reached me, and were immediately set up and distributed broadcast. They please me, as does all your work. I got a check from Wells for the amount of two months' expenses (at the rate we agreed upon), and your salary, up to date, has been marked to your credit. I believe there will be trouble in Europe before long, and we hear that Devlin, of whom I spoke to you, is down with some sort of fever. Be prepared to start East at the shortest notice, and please look up some one, an experienced man, of course, to keep an eye on Cuba for us, should you have to leave. A man who knows the country, and is immune from yellow fever, would be of more value than an experienced journalist. We have journalists here, but I fear they would fall down on the job. I do not believe the Cuban affair will ever come to more than skirmishing, but even that is interesting when it happens at our own back door. No mail has come to us for you. Please write us if you know of a man.
"Yours very sincerely,
"WASHINGTON DODDER, Manager."
Hemming read it to O'Rourke.
"Will you accept the job?" he asked.
"Yes, when some one lands an invading army, but not before," replied O'Rourke. "Fact is, I'm afraid to sneak into the place again. The Spaniards know me too well. I've run away with Gomez and I've retreated with Garcia, and I've had quite enough of it. But if you have to leave and I can't get a chance to go along with you, I'll keep my eye on things, and do what a man can. I can at least send them some photographs of starving women and babies with distended tummies. I notice, by the magazines, that the popular fancy is turning toward sweet pictures of that kind, and, as luck would have it, I indulged in photography last time I was there, and the films happened to be in my pocket when John and I sailed away."
Thus did Bertram St. Ives O'Rourke, the free-lance who hated to move or stay at any man's bidding, fetter himself with the chain of duty, and become the servant of a great syndicate. But for weeks he did not feel the chain, but made merry with sailors and landsmen, and did inspired work for Griffin's Magazine. At last word came to Hemming, calling him to the East to report the actions of the wily Turk and courageous Greek, and, after putting his friend aboard the mail-boat, O'Rourke sat down and grappled the fact of his own responsibilities. After due consideration he wrote to the syndicate, explained his position, mentioned his past efforts in Cuba, and promised some interesting cables if they would send him enough money to charter a tug. To his amazement (his name carried more weight than he knew) they wired the money and told him to go ahead.