CHAPTER XIV.
HILDEGARDE EMBARKS.
To tell the truth, I must have imbibed something of the pride that came to old-time Romans when returning victorious from the wars, but if they felt as “rocky” as I did after my experience with adobes and ashen oars, surely they were not to be particularly envied.
It is always a great satisfaction to win out—success causes us to forget for the time being the bruised head and weary frame—a generous glow suffuses the heart, and we puff out with a feeling of consequence.
I had done enough to be pardoned for some such weakness.
And she, Hildegarde, had seen it all.
Did she think me a coward now, a vain boaster, who would flee before a shadow?
Well, I guess not—at least, there was reason to believe I had vindicated my right to be called a man.
The third boat still pursued us, but in a half-hearted way, for they had discovered what an earthquake had overwhelmed the others, and experienced a change of opinion regarding the desirability of getting to close quarters.
Besides, Robbins was pulling steadily, and at every stroke our craft was pushed a length ahead.
I looked around.
There upon the water I saw a rapidly approaching object—a boat with a lantern in it, a boat that coughed intermittently as it bore down upon us.
I knew that sound well; had I not explored creeks and lagoons in Florida, up the Amazon, and even along the Nile in that same little launch?
The chaps back of us were still keeping up more or less of a racket, but distance was already mellowing the sound, and I knew I could make myself heard.
So I bellowed out, using my hands in lieu of a fog-horn:
“Ahoy! Wagner—Cummings—this way!”
Just as I expected, there was an immediate and cheery response, and the launch bore down upon us.
The pursuers had given it up; perhaps believed that with reinforcements at hand we might turn the tables and chase them; or it might be more worthy motives caused them to go back and assist their demoralized comrades.
I cared not a picayune what the motive, so long as we were rid of the fellows.
Hildegarde once more sat upon a thwart.
Her arm was around Carmencita, and, though unableto account for the fact, I could see that she was awaiting events with her nerves at the highest tension.
Strange if, after all I had done, she held that old grudge against me still, and allowed it to make the acceptance of a temporary shelter on board my yacht a painful necessity.
I could not quite discharge these bitter thoughts that insisted upon crowding upon me.
The launch bore around and came up alongside our clumsy craft.
I was never more glad to grasp hold of it.
Karl Wagner, with another, was aboard—the stout engineer, I think it was—their departure had been in such haste, they had not waited for more recruits.
“Let me help you in, Hildegarde,” I said, quietly, and withal not able to avoid a little tenderness in my voice, for she had been so sadly frightened during the battle on the water, I felt genuinely sorry for her.
She did not refuse, and actually gave me her hand, so that I might help her.
Perhaps it was the blow I had so recently received that made me feel so dizzy just then; surely, the touch of a hand could not set my heart to beating so madly that the blood went rushing to my head, and after all I had vowed about bitter feelings, hatred and such things in general toward womankind, and this little despot in particular.
Robbins quickly swung the little girl into the launch, and then we followed suit.
The boat was left adrift.
As I lounged there, regardless of the fact that my precious blood might be soiling the cushions, it all seemed very like a fantastic dream—the rapid events of this night.
True, all Bolivar was in an uproar because of our bold work, and doubtless the worthy alcalde was marshaling his little army with the intention of seeking our capture, so that we might be forced to pay heavily for our fun.
Bah! we could afford to laugh at all the alcaldes in Bolivar, or any other Central American republic, once our feet had pressed the deck of the yacht.
Long before he could embark with his arms, we would have steam up and be leaving the harbor, with the sea before us.
Another thing came to me, and I was really surprised to see how much genuine pleasure it brought in its train; she must be aboard the yacht, for days, perhaps weeks, and it would surely be my fault if I failed to find some golden opportunity for affecting a reconciliation; yes, there was little use deceiving myself, I loved her still, loved her better than before, and I was ever willing to bow my proud head to her yoke if so be—— Phew! I had forgotten that there might be some disagreeable news for me, since I had refused to hear from her during the two years of our separation.
What if she had secured a divorce? I had some reason to believe this were so; but, good heavens, what if she had gone even further, and in pique married some other fellow?
That brought out a cold sweat.
I remembered that I had not taken the trouble to ask her how she came to be in a foreign city like Bolivar, and a guest of the alcalde. Perhaps some one vested with authority had taken her there. I remembered the silver frame and the photograph of which I had obtained but a glimpse, enough to see that it was a man.
It would have pleased me had this bag been forgotten and left in the abandoned boat; but little Carmencita had kept tight hold of it.
Apparently, my condition might be considered very much mixed.
We were now nearing the yacht.
I could tell that those on board were anticipating aspeedy move, for acting under orders, some one had started up the fires, and fresh sparks were shooting out of her funnel.
This was fortunate.
Bolivar, with its noble harbor, would not be the place for us after this night.
We must skip if we desired to avoid the consequences of bearding the august alcalde in his ancestral castle, and outraging his person with a knockdown argument.
Besides, much blood had been spilled, for which we must justly be held to account.
I did not know that we had killed any one—I hope not, even though the provocation had been great; but we had seriously incapacitated half a dozen worthy citizens of Bolivar from continuing their regular avocations for some time to come, and would be held strictly accountable, if caught.
The justice in these Central American courts always leans in favor of the citizen as against the foreigner, who, whether in the right or not, usually finds himself bound to pay the costs.
Against this the Yankee spirit rose up in arms, and since protests never avail in such a case, the only resort was flight.
Hildegarde had not said one word. I thought I had felt a little pressure when I held her hand, but it may have been imagination.
As we drew closer to the yacht, I saw her turn and give me a quick glance, though she did not speak.
What it was influenced her I had no idea at the time, though later on the secret was laid bare to my gaze.
Looking myself to the yacht, I saw there were a number of persons along the rail, about the place where we would draw alongside, there being a landing stage swung over, with several steps to it.
One was a woman, for I could see the skirt of her light gown swaying in the gentle breeze.
I knew who it was.
My expected guests from the steamer were aboard the yacht.
It never occurred to me to see any connection between the presence of Diana Thorpe aboard my boat and the intense antipathy shown by Hildegarde to coming aboard.
Then a strange thing occurred.
Hildegarde, as if possessed of a sudden overpowering notion, suddenly veiled her face behind a flimsy web that had apparently been fastened to her hat.
This act surprised me.
Evidently, she did not care to be immediately recognized—she knew who leaned over the rail, her elegant figure outlined against the lights beyond.
I was too dizzy to understand why she should do this thing; I can remember that it struck me as queer, and yet, at the same time, I was not unwilling to humor her caprice, and keep her secret for a little time.
At least, I would be better able to wrestle with it when I got rid of this awful ringing in my head, and could ponder upon it rationally. She had some reason, that was evident.
At last we were alongside.
Robbins lifted Carmencita up, and willing hands helped her on deck.
Hildegarde neatly avoided my proffered assistance, and allowed the mate to help her, which caused me to bite my lips in chagrin.
Then I climbed aboard, to be immediately met by an effusive young woman and a handsome, dapper little gentleman, who wrung my hands and acted as though they were really very glad to see me.