CHAPTER XVII.
AT TWO BELLS.
I have never considered myself much of a yarn-spinner, even though a yachtsman by choice; but if ever a man had the material for an engaging story thrust upon him, I certainly came under that head.
Since sunset on this amazing evening, there had fallen to my lot a series of the most remarkable adventures the mind of mortal man could ever conceive.
Indeed, the only trouble I found in relating my unique experiences was not to tell too much.
There was danger of that.
Diana’s curiosity was keenly whetted.
She saw something of a beautiful mystery in the veiled figure of the unknown lady with whom I had come aboard.
Perhaps there was an indefinite something about her carriage that suggested vague familiarity which she could not for the life of her place.
On my part, I was grimly determined to give her no satisfaction.
Hildegarde had begged me to keep her identity secretfor the present, and while I did not quite understand why she should wish this, I was perfectly willing to comply.
If Diana discovered the truth, it would have to be through other means.
Hence, in telling of my adventures I carefully avoided all reference to the lady save as the señora who was in trouble, and whom Robbins and myself had assisted to escape from those who detained her against her will. In accomplishing this result, I had to run the gamut of her questions, and I am afraid yarn a little; but really she had no business to be so importunate, and concern herself so materially about my affairs.
She laughingly declared that the fact of her having once been an old flame of mine, and now a dignified matron—Heaven save the mark!—should entitle her to some consideration, and account in a measure for the deep interest she took in my welfare.
Luckily I was feeling all right, save for a symptom of “swelled head,” which, under the circumstances, was allowable.
Indeed, I could even look back over the events of the night with more or less complacency, believing that I had borne myself well.
There is an indescribable charm in thus reviewing stormy events when seated in a comfortable chair with a prime weed between one’s teeth; no wonder old soldiers take such keen pleasure in fighting their battles over again.
Diana was plainly not satisfied.
She seemed to realize that I was purposely withholding some point that had a material bearing on the story.
Perhaps she believed the lady to be some young and charming señorita with midnight eyes, whom I had met before. I had studiously refrained from all mention of anything that would lead her to suspect it was an American in whose cause Robbins and myself had enlisted,fearful lest she should put two and two together and solve the puzzle.
But she was not quite bold enough to demand a direct answer to her questions, and I left her groping in the dark, hugging all manner of delusions to her heart, and doubtless investing me with such romantic surroundings as had never entered the head of novelist to conceive.
We soon branched off upon other topics; I was determined to erase myself as the chief factor in the conversation.
They had traveled much, and between wide awake people who have seen the world there is always much of mutual interest in comparing notes regarding the odd things encountered.
More than once I wished they would retire.
Several reasons influenced me.
First, I desired to see Cummings and have something to say about our course.
We had our plans arranged for the cruise and, if possible, I did not wish to change them, although if she insisted upon being taken to the United States, I would have to about-ship, and head in the other direction.
Then, again, I naturally wanted to be alone; so much had happened that bordered on the marvelous I wished to ponder it over and endeavor to see a rosy light beyond the gloomy clouds.
I had suffered keenly in the midst of splendor and wealth—God alone knew how hungry my heart had been for the companionship I once had known; and now, as if Heaven sent, she had once more risen upon my horizon; I had touched her hand, aye, crushed her in my arms, fought like a warrior to defend her against enemies, and I wanted to be alone in order to dream of this wonderful thing that almost intoxicated me with its possibilities of greatest bliss.
Finally Diana took the hint, and declared I had not overcome some of my old-time bearish ways, for I had become dull and stupid.
One could take anything from this bright butterfly with the gilded wings, and I only pleaded extreme exhaustion in extenuation of my shortcomings.
So they left me.
I often look back to that night and remember how they went away laughing, with their arms around each other; for even the lordly Gustavus was very fond of his lively, handsome wife, though both had been sad flirts in their day.
They had been married much longer than a year, but being constantly on the go, like the busy bee, sipping honey from each flower as they went, they declared they were still on their bridal tour and enjoying their honeymoon.
Yes, I often think of them as I saw them that night, happy as children, knowing no harassing care, content to accept the bountiful favors an indulgent fortune threw in their way, and perfectly unconscious of any impending peril.
When I had talked a while with Cummings, and told him about my wishes respecting our course, and what I intended doing for my old friend and shipmate of thePathfinder, I took a few turns on the deck.
We were now far out on the heaving bosom of the Caribbean Sea.
Not a light could be seen in the quarter where, as I knew, Bolivar lay, for many miles stretched between us and that treacherous shore.
Surely I had endured enough to fatigue my body and induce sleep; that was just the trouble, for while my frame was sore and weary my mind was as keen set and full ofvigor as that of a lawyer ready to begin his plea to judge and jury.
No use then for me to lie down in my little den and try to conjure sleep—with Hildegarde so near, and my heart in my throat, as it were.
Another cigar in that comfortable chair; if slumber overtook me under the awning, what odds? I had passed more than one hot night in the region of the Malacca Straits and Singapore, sleeping on deck.
Besides, I wanted to think.
Several hours passed, and there I still lounged, puffing drowsily at my fourth cigar, while the prominent events of the past two years were hurriedly recalled.
Thus I was sitting when two bells struck; my cigar had gone out and fallen to the deck, and I had about reached the point where the mind begins to yield the battle with the sleep god, when something like a sigh caught my ear—a sigh accompanied by a rustle of garments; and as I detected the presence of a delicate perfume I knew only too well (her favorite), I raised my head and discovered a figure leaning over the rail of the yacht close by.