Having passed the night of the fifth day tranquilly, I awake on the morning of the memorable sixth, in a perfect state of health. All my pains have disappeared as if by magic: my head ceases to throb; my body is delightfully cool, and I am otherwise so convalescent that were it not for my doctor's strict injunctions, I should arise, dress, and betake myself to the nearest restaurant. But my West Indian physician administers to my wants in easy stages. I am allowed to sit in a rocking chair near the window with closed shutters, but I may not wash, neither may I brush my hair, nor breathe a new atmosphere for several days to come. From the mildest nourishment in the way of sugar panales and water, I am gradually introduced to more solid food, and at least a week elapses before Don Francisco approves of Don Benigno's proposal to recruit his patient's health at the sea-side.
Now that the crisis is over, I learn that the greatest fears had been entertained for my recovery; that six out of the seven doctors, who had considered my case, had pronounced it hopeless. I was an Englishman, they said, and my countrymen had the reputation for indulging rather freely in stimulants—above all in malt liquors, and these stimulants were fatal to a constitution when attacked by yellow fever. But Don Francisco, who had carefully interrogated me on my past, which he found greatly belied his brother practitioners' conjectures, was more sanguine of the cure, and now that I am free from danger, he pronounces me 'acclimatised,' and as unlikely to experience another attack of the same epidemic as the natives of Cuba themselves. He, however, warns me of 'tercianas' or intermittent fevers which occasionally succeed yellow fever, and which are consequent on intemperate habits and undue exposure to the sun.
Accepting Don Benigno's generous invitation to pass a few weeks with him, his family and a few friends at a watering place, I take leave of Nicasio for the first time, and become Don Benigno's guest once more. Our destination is La Socapa, a small fishing village three miles distant from town. The only way to reach La Socapa (which is situated at the narrow entrance of the Cuban Bay, and faces the Morro Castle which stands on the opposite bank) is by water. We therefore hire a heavy boat, and after an hour's sail along the sinuous harbour, we are landed at La Socapa.
There are no 'apartments to let' at this favourite watering-place. When a Cuban gentleman proposes to rusticate with his family at this locality, he hires an empty house and fits it up with some furniture brought by his slaves from his residence in town. Not more than a dozen cottages are available as lodging-houses at La Socapa; the village being occupied by fishermen and their families. Don Benigno's temporary abode is isolated from the village and stands on an eminence looking seawards. It is a single-storied habitation and provides the usual accommodations of a Cuban country-house.
There are no bathing machines at La Socapa. Those who are inclined for a dip in the sea betake themselves to secluded spots on the coast, and disrobe themselves behind rocks and bushes. 'Tiburones,' or sharks, occasionally visit this neighbourhood, and as these voracious creatures have a strange partiality for human limbs, the bathers are careful not to venture beyond certain stones which have been placed for the purpose of keeping out the greedy invaders.
Sometimes we indulge in a little fishing off the banks of the harbour, or the gentlemen of our party take their sporting guns to an adjacent wood where wild pigeons, partridges, quails and guinea-fowl abound. This sport may be varied by a hunt after wild deer, small specimens of which are to be obtained in these parts. Our favourite evening amusement is lobster-hunting. For this sport, a big barge is procured, and, after having been furnished with carpets and rugs for the ladies' accommodation, we proceed to navigate the shores and creeks of the harbour. Three or four black fishermen accompany us and bear long torches of wood, by the light of which the ground beneath the shallow water is visible. Our prey is secured by throwing a net, in the meshes of which the lobster becomes entangled; but should this prove ineffectual, a long pole forked at one end is thrust over the creature's hard back, and as he struggles to free himself from the pronged embrace, a nimble negro dives into the water and captures him alive. Great excitement prevails when a lobster comes on board, and bounds among our crew and passengers. Having brought provisions with us, we 'make a night' of this molluscular expedition, and keep up the convivialities till two or three o'clock, A.M.
One of the liveliest of our party is a young Spanish officer, whom everybody addresses as Manuel. Manuel is engaged to Don Benigno's eldest daughter, Paquita, a young lady of fourteen tropical summers, who, however, has the appearance of a señorita of sweet seventeen. I am on terms of the closest friendship with the young officer, for it was partly through his intercession with the authorities that Nicasio and I obtained our release from captivity.
One day, after attiring himself in his regimentals, Don Manuel proposes a visit to the Morro Castle, and invites me to accompany him, assuring me that under his trusty escort there will be no danger of arrest. We accordingly hire a small canoe, and after rowing across the narrow harbour, land at one of the forts of the formidable fortress.
The officer's uniform is an all-powerful pass wherever we go. It enables us to land, to pass the various sentries, who touch their caps respectfully as we approach, and finally to reach the commandant's private dwelling in the very heart of the stronghold.
El señor comandante is at home, and invites us in. He is delighted to see his young friend the captain, and charmed to form the acquaintance of the captain's companion. He does not recognise me in the least, and satisfied of that fact, I accept his pressing invitation to lunch with himself and officers.