The Stowaway Girl

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE NEW ERA

  A swaggering officer and a man habited like a beggar landed unobservedat a coal wharf, moored a ship's boat to a bolt, and passed swiftlythrough a silent town till they reached the closed gates of an infantrybarrack perched on a hill that rose steeply above the clustering roofsof Maceio.

  Though the seeming mendicant limped slightly, his superior statureenabled him to keep pace with the officer. The pair neither lagged norhesitated. The officer knocked loudly on a small door inset in the biggates. After some delay it was opened. A sentry challenged.

  "Capitao San Benavides," announced the officer, and the man stood toattention.

  "Enter, my friend," said San Benavides to his ragged companion. Thelatter stepped within; the wicket was locked, and the click of the boltwas suggestive of the rattle of the dice with which Dom Corria De Sylvawas throwing a main with fortune. Perhaps some thought of the kindoccurred to him, but he was calm as if he were so poor that he hadnaught more to lose.

  "Who is the officer of the guard?" San Benavides asked the soldier.

  "Senhor Tenente [Lieutenant] Regis de Pereira, senhor capitao."

  "Tell him, with my compliments, that I shall be glad to meet him at thecolonel's quarters in fifteen minutes."

  The queerly-assorted pair moved off across the barrack square. Thesentry looked after them.

  "My excellent captain seems to have been brawling," he grinned. "Butwhat of the _mendigo_?"

  What, indeed? A most pertinent question for Brazil, and one that wouldbe loudly answered.

  The colonel's house was in darkness, yet San Benavides rappedimperatively. An upper window was raised. A voice was heard, usingprofane language. A head appeared. Its owner cried, "Who isit?"--with additions.

  "San Benavides."

  "Christo! And the other?"

  "One whom you expect."

  The head popped in. Soon there was a light on the ground floor. Thedoor opened. A very stout man, barefooted, who had struggled into apair of abnormally tight riding-breeches, faced them.

  "Can it be possible?" he exclaimed, striking an attitude.

  Dom Corria spoke not a word. He knew the value of effect, and couldbide his time. The three passed into a lighted apartment. De Sylvaplaced himself under a chandelier, and took off a frayed straw hatwhich he had borrowed from someone on board the _Unser Fritz_. Thecolonel, a grotesque figure in his present _deshabille_, bowed lowbefore him.

  "My President!--I salute you," he murmured.

  "Thank you, General," said Dom Corria, smiling graciously. "I knew Icould depend on you. How soon can you muster the regiment?"

  "In half an hour, Excellency."

  "See that there is plenty of ammunition for the machine guns. What ofthe artillery?"

  "The three batteries stationed here are with us heart and soul."

  "Colonel San Benavides, as chief of the staff, is acquainted with everydetail. You, General, will assume command of the Army of Liberation.Some trunks were sent to you from Paris, I believe?"

  "They are in the room prepared for your Excellency."

  "Let me go there at once and change my clothing. I must appear beforethe troops as their President, not as a jail-bird. For the moment Ileave everything to you and San Benavides. Let Senhor Pondillo besummoned. He will attend to the civil side of affairs. You have myunqualified approval of the military scheme drawn up by you and myother friends. There is one thing--a gunboat lies in the harbor. Isshe the _Andorinha_?"

  The newly-promoted general smote his huge stomach with bothhands--"beating the drum," he called it--and the rat-tat signifiedinstant readiness for action.

  "The guns will soon scare that bird," he exclaimed. As _Andorinha_means "swallow" in English there was some point to the remark. Nor washe making a vain boast. The most astounding feature of everyrevolution in a South American republic is the alacrity with which thearmy will fire on the navy, _et vice versa_. The two services seem tobe everlastingly at feud. If politicians fail to engineer a quarrel,the soldiers and sailors will indulge in one on their own account.

  It was so now at Maceio. Dawn was about to peep up over the sea whentwelve guns lumbered through the narrow streets, waking many startledcitizens. A few daring souls, who guessed what had happened, rushedoff on horseback or bicycle to remote telegraph offices. Theseadventurers were too late. Every railway station and post-officewithin twenty miles was already held by troops. Revolts are conductedscientifically in that region. Their stage management is perfect, andthe cumbrous methods of effete civilizations might well take note ofthe speed, thoroughness, and efficiency with which a change ofgovernment is effected.

  For instance, what could be more admirable than the scaring of the birdby General Russo? He drew up his three batteries on the wharf oppositethe unsuspecting _Andorinha_, and endeavored to plant twelve shells inthe locality of her engine-room without the least hesitation. Therewas no thought of demanding her surrender, or any quixotic nonsense ofthat sort. In the first place, no man would act as herald, since hewould be shot or stabbed the instant his errand became known; in thesecond, as Hozier had explained to Iris, the gunboat could slip hercable very quickly, and Russo's artillerists might miss a moving object.

  As it was, every gun scored, though the elevation was rather high. Theshells made a sad mess of the superstructure, but left the enginesintact. The sailors, on their part, knew exactly what had happened.Every man who escaped death or serious injury from the burstingmissiles ran to his post. A wire hawser and mooring rope were severedwith axes, the screw revolved, and the _Andorinha_ was in motion.Though winged, she still could fly. The second salvo of projectileswas less damaging; again the gunners failed to reach the warship'svitals. Her commander got his own armament into action, and managed todemolish a warehouse and a grain elevator. Then he made off down thecoast toward Rio de Janeiro.

  The sudden uproar stirred Maceio from roof to basement. Itsinhabitants poured into the Plaza. Every man vied with his neighbor inyelling: "The revolution is here! _Viva Dom Corria_! _Abajo SaoPaulo_!"

  That last cry explained a good deal. The State of Sao Paulo had longmaintained a "corner" in Brazilian Presidents. De Sylva, a native ofAlagoas, was the first to break down the monopoly. Hence the cabalagainst him; hence, too, the readiness of Maceio, together with many ofthe smaller ports and the whole of the vast interior, to espouse hiscause.

  For the purposes of this story, which is mainly concerned with thelives and fortunes of a few insignificant people unknown to history, itis not necessary to follow in detail the trumpetings, proclamations,carousals, and arrests that followed Dom Corria's first success. It isa truism that in events of international importance the very names ofthe chief actors ofttimes go unrecorded. Future generations will ask,perhaps:--Who blew up the _Maine_? Who persuaded the Tsar to break hisword anent Port Arthur? Who told Paul Kruger that the Continent ofEurope would support the Boers against Great Britain? Such instancescould be multiplied indefinitely, and the rule held good now in Brazil.

  If any polite Pernambucano, Maceio-ite, or merchant of Bahia wereinformed that President De Sylva's raid was alone rendered possible bythe help of a truculent British master-mariner and a dozen or so of hishard-bitten crew, he (the said Brasileiro) might be skeptical, or, atbest, indifferent. But let the name of some puppet politician hailingfrom Sao Paulo be mentioned, and his eyes would flash with angryrecognition; yet the _Andromeda's_ small contingent achieved more thana whole army of conspirators.

  The one incident, then, of a political nature, in which the victors ofthe tussle on Fernando Noronha were publicly concerned, was the outcomeof a message cabled by Dom Corria while the smoke of Russo's cannonstill clung about the quay.

  It was written in German, addressed to a Hamburg shipping firm, and ranas follows: "Have sold _Unser Fritz_ to Senhor Pondillo of this port asfrom September 1st, for 175,000 marks. If approved, cableconfirmation, and draw on Paris branch
Deutsche Bank at sight. FranzSchmidt, care German Consul, Maceio."

  This harmless commercial item was read by many officials hostile to DeSylva, yet it evoked no comment. Its first real effect was observablein the counting-house of the Hamburg owners. There it was believedthat Captain Schmidt had either become a lunatic himself or was intouch with a rich one. Schmidt was so well known to them that theyacted on the latter hypothesis. They cabled him their heartycommendation, "drew" on the Paris bank by the next post, and awaiteddevelopments. To their profound amazement, the money was paid. Asthey had obtained 8,750 pounds for a vessel worth about one-quarter ofthe sum, they had good reason to be satisfied. It mattered not a jotto them that the sale was made "as from September 1st," or any otherdate. They signed the desired quittance, cabled Schmidt again to askif Senhor Pondillo was in need of other ships of the _Unser Fritz_class, and the members of the firm indulged that evening in the bestdinner that the tip-top restaurant of Hamburg could supply.

  They were puzzled next day by certain statements in the newspapers, andwere called on to explain to a number of journalists that the ship hadleft their ownership. She was at Maceio. Where was Maceio? Somewherein South America.

  "_Es ist nicht von Bedeutung_," said the senior partner to hisassociates. "Schmidt will write full particulars; when all is said anddone, we have the money."

  Yet it did matter very greatly, as shall be seen. Here, again, was aninstance of an humble individual becoming a cog in the wheel of worldpolitics. Within less than a month Schmidt was vituperated by half thechancelleries of Europe. A newspaper war raged over him. He becamethe object of an Emperor's Jovian wrath. "What's the matter withSchmidt? He's--all--right!" thundered the whole press of the UnitedStates. And all because he had made a good bargain at a criticalmoment!

  But no one on board the _Unser Fritz_ was vexed by aught save presenttribulations when De Sylva and his _aide_ quitted the ship. Be surethat not a soul thought of sleep. Every man, and the one woman whomchance had thrown in their midst, remained on deck and watched theslumbering town. It was only a small place. The _Andorinha_ lay atone end of the harbor, the _Unser Fritz_ at the other. They werebarely half a mile apart, and Maceio climbed the sloping shore betweenthe two points.

  Hozier, of course, had forgiven Iris for her aloofness, and Iris, withthat delightful inconsistency which ranks high among the many charms ofher sex, found that "Philip dear," though she might not marry him, washer only possible companion. He, having acquired an experiencepreviously lacking, took care to fall in with her mood. She, weary ofa painful self-repression, cheated the frowning gods of "just this onenight." So they looked at the twinkling lights, spoke in whispers lestthey should miss any tokens of disturbance on shore, elbowed each othercomfortably on the rails of the bridge, and uttered no word of love orfuture purpose.

  They were discussing nothing more important than the sufferings ofWatts--whom Coke would not allow to go out of his sight--when alightning blaze leaped from the somber shadows of some buildings on thequay lower down the river. Again, and many times again, the suddenjets of flame started out across the black water. Iris, or Hozier, forthat matter, had never seen a field-piece fired by night, but beforethe girl could do other than grip Philip's arm in a spasm of fear, thethunder of the artillery rolled across the harbor, and the worn platesof the _Unser Fritz_ quivered under the mere concussion.

  "By jove, they're at it!" cried Philip.

  Iris felt the thrill that shook him. She could not see his face, butshe knew that his blue eyes were shining like bright steel. She washorrified at the thought of red war being so near, yet she was proud ofher lover. At these mortal crises, the woman demands courage in theman.

  "Oh!" she gasped, and clung to him more tightly.

  Under such circumstances it was only to be expected that his arm wouldclasp her round the waist; Disraeli's famous epigram was coined fordiplomacy, not for love-making.

  Hozier strained his eyes through the gloom to try and discover theeffect of the cannonade on the gunboat. He was quickly alive to thesignificance of the answering broadside. Then the black hull grew dimand vanished. His sailor's sympathies went with the escaping ship.

  "She has got away! I am jolly glad of it," he cried. "It was a dirtytrick to open fire on her in that fashion. Just how they served the_Andromeda_, the hounds, only we had never a gun to tickle them up inreturn."

  "Do you think that many of the poor creatures have been killed?" askedIris tremulously. The din of ordnance and bursting shells had ceasedas suddenly as it began. Lights appeared in nearly every house.Shouting men were running along the neighboring wharf. Maceio, never aheavy sleeper in bulk, dreamed for a second of earthquakes, leaped outof bed, and ran into the streets in the negligent costume which theItalians describe by the delightful word, _confidenza_.

  "I don't suppose so," Hozier reassured her. "If the artillery had madegood practice at that short range the gunboat must have sunk at hermoorings. Her men naturally couldn't miss the town. There was a rareold rattle among the crockery behind the soldiers. Did you hear it? Iwonder what went over?"

  He was as excited as a schoolboy, almost jubilant. Poor Iris! Thoughshe was now a veteran in scenes of death and disaster, she realizedthat fate had erred in choosing her as a heroine.

  Coke and Watts drew near.

  "Dom Wot's-'is-name wasn't long in gettin' busy," chuckled Coke. "Gev'her a dose of the _Andromeda's_ physic, eh? I'm sorry the blightersmanaged to 'ook it."

  Though he had just uttered an opinion directly contrary to hiscaptain's, Hozier deemed it wise to be non-committal.

  "The guns must have been laid badly," he said.

  "Mebbe, an' wot's more, d--n 'em, they knew there was something infront that could shoot back."

  So Coke was at least impartial. He cared not a jot how the Braziliansslaughtered each other so long as De Sylva established the new regimespeedily.

  "I never was a fightin' man meself," murmured Watts weakly. "That sortof thing gives me a sinkin' sensation in me innards."

  "Wot you want is a drink, me boy," said Coke.

  Watts brightened. He drew a deep breath.

  "I reelly believe that's wot's wrong with me," he said.

  "Then I'll just ax the cook to 'urry up with the corfee," guffawed theunfeeling skipper. "We'll all be the better for a snack an' somethink'ot."

  Iris managed to choke down an hysterical laugh. Coke was incorrigible,yet she was conscious of a growing appreciation of his crude chivalry.He boasted truly that he feared neither man nor devil. His chiefdefect lay in being born several centuries too late. Had he flourishedduring the Middle Ages, Coke would have carved out a kingdom.

  Even while the men were thus callously discussing the tragedy that hadbeen enacted before their eyes, the miracle of the dawn wastransforming night into day. In the tropics there is no hesitancyabout sunrise. The splendid imagery of Genesis is literally exact."Let there be light; and there was light . . . and God divided thelight from the darkness." Long before the _Andorinha_ had crept roundthe southern headland of the Macayo estuary she became visible again.

  About six o'clock a grand review was held in the Plaza, or chiefsquare. Dom Corria, a resplendent personage on horseback, made a finespeech. He was vociferously applauded, by both troops and populace.General Russo, also mounted, assured him that Brazil was pining forhim. In effect, when he was firmly established in the Presidency, thepeople would be allowed to vote for him.

  "We have borne two years of misrule," vociferated thecommander-in-chief, "but it has vanished before the fiery breath of ourguns. We hail your Excellency as our liberator. Long live Dom Corria!Down with----"

  The fierce "Vivas" of the mob, combined with the general's weight,proved too much for his charger, which plunged violently. Russo washeld on accidentally by his spurs. There was a lively interlude untilan orderly seized the bridle, and the general was able to disengage therowels from the animal's ribs. When tranqui
llity was restored, thesoldiers marched off to their quarters, and Colonel San Benavidesboarded the _Unser Fritz_. He invited Iris, Schmidt, Coke, and Hozierto breakfast with the President at the principal hotel.

  Watts was not included in the list of guests. Being indignant, heexpressed himself freely.

  "Nice thing!" he said to Norrie. "We're not good enough to be axed.It was a bit of all right w'en we 'elped 'im out of quod, but now 'e'sa bloomin' toff we're low-down sailormen--that's wot we are."

  "Man, ye're fair daft," growled the Scot. "It's as plain as the neb onyer face that he canna dae wi' a', so he just picked the twa skippersand the lassie; he kent weel she wadna stir an inch withoot Hozier."

  Norrie was right, as it happened, but Watts added another grudge to hisscore against De Sylva.

  Now, though dynasties totter and empires crash, the first thing a womanthinks of when bidden to a public gathering is her attire. Irisdeclared most emphatically that to expect her to go ashore and meetcertain military and civic dignitaries while she was wearing a costumeoriginally purchased for mountaineering, which had endured the roughusage of the past two days, was "for to laugh." She was speakingFrench, and that was the literal phrase she used. The courteous SanBenavides smiled away her protest. His Excellency had foreseen thedifficulty. Those who knew Dom Corria best would not credit that heshould forget anything. The Senhora Pondillo awaited Iris at the hotelwith a supply of new clothing. Captain Schmidt, of course, coulddepend on his own wardrobe, but Captain Coke and the Senhor Hozierwould find a tradesman in their rooms who had guaranteed to equip themsuitably. Moreover, the same outfitter would visit the ship during themorning and make good the lost raiment and boots of the other officersand men of the _Andromeda_. San Benavides spoke like the ambassador ofa prince, and, in the sequel, there was no stint of deeds to giveeffect to his promises.

  On the way to the hotel Iris saw a large building labeled "Casa doCorreio e Telegraphia." It was not surprising that she had not thoughtearlier of the necessity of cabling to Liverpool. She blushed, andlooked involuntarily at Hozier.

  "I must send a message to my uncle," she said.

  Were Philip a professed spiritualist, the spectral shapes of DavidVerity and Dickey Bulmer could not have been more effectually"projected" into his astral plane at Maceio than they were at thatinstant. He had not set eyes on either of the men, but the girl'swords conjured them into being, and the vision was vastly disagreeable.

  San Benavides, of course, was anxious to oblige Iris in this as inevery other respect. He procured the requisite form, told her thecost, which led to a condensed version of the original draft, smoothedaway the slight hindrance of foreign money tendered in payment, andarranged the due delivery of a reply. Perhaps he smiled when he readwhat she had written. The words were comprehensible even to one whodid not understand English:

  "_Andromeda_ lost. Arrived here safely. Address, Yorke, Maceio."

  There was a space at the foot of the form on which it was necessary tosubscribe her name and local address. So she wrote, "Iris Yorke,steamship _Unser Fritz_, Maceio harbor." Hozier was standing by herside as she printed the words legibly. She looked up at him with acuriously tense expression that he did not fathom immediately. Theywere in the busy main street again ere its meaning occurred to him.The cable committed her irrevocably. She felt that she was signing herown condemnation!

  Among the four people, therefore, who entered the Hotel Grande in theRua do Sul there were two whose feelings were the reverse of cheerful.But convention is stronger than the primal impulses--sometimes ittriumphs over death itself--and convention was all-powerful now. Itled Iris away captive in the train of the smiling and voluble SenhoraPondillo, and it immersed Hozier in a tangle of fearsome words whichturned out to be the stock in trade of a clothier. The mere male ofMaceio decks himself with gay plumage. Philip was hard put to itbefore he secured some garments which did not irresistibly recall theheroes of certain musical comedies popular in England.

  Coke experienced worse vicissitudes. Even the variety and richness ofa master mariner's vocabulary was taxed to its utmost resources when hewas coaxed into "trying on" a short jacket apparently intended for atoreador. Such minor troubles, however, were overcome in time. Arazor and a hot bath were by no means the least important items of therejuvenating process, and when the two men entered the salon where DomCorria was holding an impromptu reception they looked like a couple ofcoffee-planters from the Argentine. Schmidt was there already. Forsome reason, the new President seemed to be so fond of the _UnserFritz's_ commander that he refused to be parted from him. It was notuntil long afterward that Hozier discovered the reason of this mushroomfriendship. The German consul was in the room.

  The appearance of Iris caused something akin to a sensation. The DonaPondillo could not create English clothes, nor bad copies of French,but her own daughters dressed in the height of local fashion, and DomCorria's earnest request had made them generous. The dark-eyed,olive-complexioned women of Alagoas are often exceedingly beautiful,but few of those present had ever seen a brown-haired, brown-eyed,fair-faced Englishwoman. Iris was remarkably good-looking, even amongthe pretty girls of her own county of Lancashire. Her large, limpideyes, well-molded nose, and perfectly formed mouth were the dominantfeatures of a face that had all the charm of youth and health. Hersmooth skin, brown with exposure to sun and air, glowed into a richcrimson when she found herself in the midst of so many strangers. Theslightly delicate semblance induced by the hardships and loss of restwhich fell to her lot since the _Andromeda_ went to pieces on theGrand-pere rock in no wise detracted from her appearance. She wore theelegant costume of a Maceio belle with ease and distinction. If shewas flurried by the undisguised murmur of admiration that greeted her,she did not show it beyond the first rush of color.

  Dom Corria, dragging Schmidt with him, hurried to meet her. Surpriseat his gala attire helped to conquer her natural timidity, for thePresident was gorgeous in blue and gold.

  "My good wishes are soon changed into congratulations, Senhor," shesaid.

  "Ah, my dear young lady, I am overjoyed that you should be here towitness my success," he cried. Then, as if he had waited for thismoment, he turned to the assembled company and delivered an eloquentpanegyric of the _Andromeda's_ crew and their _deusa deliciosa_--forthat is what he called Iris--a delightful goddess. He had made manyspeeches already that day, but none was more heartfelt than this. Hiseulogy was unstinted. Luckily for Iris, she was so conscious of theattention she attracted that she kept her eyes steadfastly fixed on thecarpet. Otherwise, having a well-developed sense of humor, she musthave laughed outright had she seen Coke's face.

  He, of course, understood no word that was said. But De Sylva'sanimated gestures and flashing eyes were enough. Ever and anon, theexcitable citizens of Maceio would turn and gaze at one or other of thethree, while loud cries of "Bravo!" punctuated the President's oratory.When Coke's turn came for these demonstrations, he tried to grin, butwas only able to scowl. For once in his stormy life he was nonplused.His brick-red countenance glowed with heat and embarrassment. At theclose of the speech he muttered to Hozier:

  "Wish I'd ha' known wot sort of beano I was comin' to. Dam if I ain'tmeltin'."

  This ordeal ended, dejeuner was served. The President took in Iris andthe Dona Pondillo. They were the only ladies present. The threesailors, some staff officers, and a few local celebrities, made up therest of the company.

  Hozier, though by no means indifferent to the good fare provided, waswondering how many hours would elapse before Iris's cablegram reachedVerity's office, when some words caught his ear that drove all otherconsiderations from his mind.

  "I am sorry to say that, in my opinion, there is not the slightestchance of your message reaching England to-day, Miss Yorke," thePresident was saying.

  "But why not?" she asked, with an astonishment that was not wholly theoutcome of regret.

  "The cable does not land here, and the tran
smitting stations will beclosely watched, now that my arrival in Brazil is known. Even thesimplest form of words will be twisted into a political significance.No, I think it best to be quite candid. Until I control Pernambuco,which should be within a week or ten days, you may rest assured that noprivate cablegrams will be forwarded."

  "Oh, dear, I fully expected a reply to-day," she said, and now that sherealized the effect of a further period of anxiety on the Bootlepartnership she was genuinely dismayed.

  "You may be sure it will not come," said Dom Corria. "Indeed I may aswell take this opportunity of explaining to you--and to my otherEnglish friends"--with the interpolated sentence his glance dweltquietly on Hozier and Coke--"the exact position locally. You see,Maceio is a small place, and easily approached from the sea. A hostilefleet could knock it to pieces in half an hour, and it would be a poorreward for my supporters' loyalty if my presence subjected them to abombardment. I have no strong defenses or heavy guns to defy attack,and my troops are not more than a thousand men, all told. It isobvious that I must make for the interior. There, I gather strength asI advance, the warships cannot pursue, and I can choose my ownpositions to meet the half-hearted forces that Dom Miguel will collectto oppose me. In fact, I and every armed man in Maceio marchup-country this afternoon."

  Iris, by this time, was thoroughly frightened, and Hozier, who readmore in De Sylva's words than was possible in her case, was watchingthe speaker's calm face with a fixity that might have disconcerted manymen. Dom Corria seemed to be unaware of either the girl's distress orPhilip's white anger.

  "You naturally ask how I propose to safeguard the companions of myflight from Fernando Noronha," he went on. "I answer at once--bytaking them with me. The Senhora Pondillo and her family willaccompany her husband to my _quinta_ at Las Flores. A special trainwill take all of us to the nearest railway station this afternoon.Thence my estate is but a day's march. You and my other friends fromboth ships will be quite safe and happy there until order is restored.You must come. The men's lives, at any rate, would not be worth anhour's purchase if my opponent's forces found them here, and I feelcertain that one or more cruisers will arrive off Maceio to-night. Foryou, this excursion will be quite a pleasant experience, and you canabsolutely rely on my promise to send news of your safety to England atthe very first opportunity."

  Iris could say nothing under the shock of this intelligence. Shelooked at Philip, and their eyes met. They both remembered the glancethey had exchanged at the post-office. Preoccupied by their ownthoughts, neither of them had noticed the smile San Benavides indulgedin on that occasion, nor did they pay heed to the fact that he wassmiling again now, apparently at some story told him by General Russo.But San Benavides was sharp-witted. He needed no interpreter to makeclear the cause of the chill that had fallen on the President's end ofthe table.

  "He has told them," he thought, perhaps. And, if further surmise werehazarded as to his views, they might well prove to be concerned withthe wonderful things that can happen within a week or tendays--especially when things are happening at the rate taken by eventsjust then in Brazil.

  Of course, as a philosopher, San Benavides was right; it was in therole of prophet that he came to grief, this being the pre-ordained fateof all false prophets.