For Jacinta

by Harold Bindloss

  CHAPTER VII

  AT THE BULL FIGHT

  Austin was writing in the saloon, which was a little cooler than hisroom, at about eight o'clock that night, while Jacinta and Mrs. Hatherlymade ineffectual attempts to read in the ladies' cabin, for the_Estremedura_ was on her way south again, with the trade-wind comberstumbling after her. She rolled with a long, rhythmic swing, and now andthen shook and trembled with the jar of her lifted propeller. MurielGascoyne was accordingly alone with her father on the deck above. Shesat in a canvas chair, while Gascoyne leaned upon the rails in front ofher. There was a full moon overhead, and a fantastic panorama offire-blackened hills, wastes of ash and lava, whirling clouds of sand,black rocks lapped by spouting surf, and bays of deepest indigo,unrolled itself upon one hand. It is, however, probable that neither ofthe pair saw much of it, for their thoughts were not concerned with thevolcanic desolation.

  "It is a pity I did not come a few weeks earlier," said Gascoyne with asigh.

  Muriel's eyes were a trifle hazy, but her voice was even. "If you hadcome then, and insisted upon it, I might have given him up," she said.

  "That means it is irrevocable now? I want you to make quite sure, mydear. This man does not belong to our world. Even his thoughts must bedifferent from ours. You cannot know anything of his past life--Iscarcely think he could explain it to you. He would regard nothing fromthe same standpoint as we do."

  "Still, it cannot have been a bad one. I can't tell you why I am sure ofthat, but I know."

  Gascoyne made a little, hopeless gesture. "Muriel," he said, a triflehoarsely, "it is a terrible risk--and if you marry him you mustinevitably drift away from me. You are all I have, and I am getting oldand lonely, but that is not of the greatest moment. It would be horribleto think of you drifting away from all you have been taught to believein and hold sacred."

  It was a strong appeal, perhaps the strongest he could have made, forthe girl had been without breadth of view when she left home, and theboundaries of her outlook had coincided with those of the little ruralparish. Still, in some strange fashion she had gained enlightenment, andshe was resolute, though her blue eyes slowly brimmed with moisture. Itwas true that he would be very lonely.

  "Ah," she said, and it was a significant sign that she questioned thecomprehension of the man whom she had regarded as almost infallible afew weeks earlier, "how can I make you understand? There are, perhaps,many worlds, and we know there are many kinds of men. They must thinkdifferently, but does that matter so very much, after all? There is thesame humanity in all of us."

  "Undoubtedly! In Turks, idolaters, and unbelievers. Humanity in itselfis fallen and evil."

  Muriel smiled. "Father," she said, "you don't believe that there is nogood in all those who have not been taught to believe as we do."

  Gascoyne did not answer her, though it is possible that there werecircumstances under which he would have returned a very slightlyqualified affirmative.

  "There is a perilous optimism abroad," he said.

  "Still," said Muriel, unconscious of the irony of her deprecatoryanswer, "Mr. Jefferson is neither a Turk nor an idolater. He is only anAmerican sailor."

  Gascoyne sighed dejectedly, for there was, it seemed, nothing left forhim to appeal to. The girl's beliefs had gone. The simple, iron-fastrules of life she had once acknowledged were now apparently discredited;but even in his concern he was vaguely sensible that an indefinitesomething which he did not recognise as the charity that love teacheswas growing up in place of them. Still, he felt its presence as hewatched her, and knew that it could not be altogether born of evil.

  "My dear," he said, "how shall I implore you to consider?"

  Muriel smiled out of hazy eyes. "It is too late. He has my promise, andI belong to him. Nothing that you could say would change that now. Hehas gone out--to Africa--believing in me, and I know that he may nevercome back again."

  Gascoyne appeared a trifle startled, and remembered a curious remarkthat Austin had made to the effect that there was a heavy responsibilityupon his daughter. He could not altogether understand why this shouldbe, but he almost fancied that she recognised it now. There was also afinality and decision in the girl's tone which was new to him.

  "I think you know how hard it was for me to get away, but it seemednecessary. I came out to implore you to give this stranger up," he said.

  The girl rose, and stood looking at him gravely, with one hand on thechair arm to steady herself as the steamer rolled, and the moonlightupon her face. It was almost reposeful in its resolution.

  "Father," she said, "you must try to understand. Perhaps I did wrongwhen I gave him my promise without consulting you, but it is given, andirrevocable. He has gone out to Africa--and may die there--believing inme. I don't think I could make you realise how he believes in me, but,though, of course, he is wrong, I grow frightened now and then, andalmost hope he may never see me as I really am. That is whyI--daren't--fail him. If there was no other reason I must keep faithwith him."

  "Then," said Gascoyne, very slowly, "I must, at least, try to resignmyself--and perhaps, my apprehensions may turn out to be not quitewarranted, after all. I was horribly afraid a little while ago, but thisman seems to have the faculty of inspiring confidence in those who knowhim. They cannot all be mistaken, and the man who is purser on thissteamer seems to believe in him firmly. His views are peculiar, butthere was sense in what he said, and he made me think a little lesshardly of Mr. Jefferson."

  Muriel only smiled. She realised what this admission, insufficient andgrudging as it was, must have cost her father, and--for she had regardedeverything from his point of view until a few weeks ago--she couldsympathise with him. Still, she was glad when she saw Jacinta and Mrs.Hatherly coming towards them along the deck.

  It was an hour later when Jacinta met Austin at the head of the ladder,and stopped him with a sign.

  "I have had a long talk with Mr. Gascoyne, and found him a little lessdisturbed in mind than I had expected," she said. "I want to know whatyou said to him."

  "Well," said Austin, reflectively, "I really can't remember, and if Icould it wouldn't be worth while. Of course, I knew what I wanted tosay, but I'm almost afraid I made as great a mess of it as I usuallydo."

  "Still, I think Miss Gascoyne is grateful to you."

  "That," said Austin, "affords me very little satisfaction, after all.You see, I didn't exactly do it to please Miss Gascoyne."

  "Then I wonder what motive really influenced you?"

  Austin pursed his lips, as if thinking hard. "I don't quite know. Forone thing, very orthodox people of the Reverend Gascoyne's descriptionoccasionally have an irritating effect upon me. I feel impelled toreadjust their point of view, or, at least to allow them an opportunityof recognising the advantages of mine, which, however, isn't necessarilythe correct one. I hope this explanation contents you."

  Jacinta smiled. "I think I shall remember it," she said. "I believe Igenerally do when anybody does a thing to please me. Still, MissGascoyne's gratitude will not hurt you."

  Then she swept away, and left him standing meditatively at the head ofthe ladder. He saw no more of her that night, and he was busy when the_Estremedura_ steamed into Las Palmas early next morning, while it wasnearly three weeks later when he met her again at a corrida de toros inthe bull ring at Santa Cruz, Teneriffe, which was, perhaps, the lastplace where one would have expected to find an English lady.

  The spacious amphitheatre was open to the sky, and all its tiers ofstone benches packed with excited humanity, for half the inhabitants ofthe island had apparently gathered to enjoy the sanguinary spectacle.Black is the colour affected by men who can afford it on a Spanishholiday, but the white cotton the bare-legged hillmen wore, and the pinkand chrome of their wives' and daughters' dresses, flecked with luminouscolour the sombre ranks of the close-packed multitude. Blazing sunlightbeat down upon them, for it is only the richer citizens who sit in theshadow, and the topmost row was projected, a filagree of black andmotley, against the
hard glaring blue. Below, the arena shone dazzlinglyyellow, and the smell of blood and fresh sawdust came up from it throughthe many-toned murmur of the crowd. When this sank a little one couldhear the deep boom of the Atlantic swell crumbling on the lava beach.

  The revolting picador scene was over. Two or three worn-out andblindfolded horses had been gored or trampled to death, and onepicador's arm had been broken. The tawny, long-horned bull, which hadshown unusual courage, stood panting in the middle of the arena, with acrimson smear on one shoulder where a lance had scored it deep, andwhile the bugles rang, the vast assembly waited for the banderilleroscene in high good humour. Just then a little party descended one of theavenues on the shady side, and Austin, who had a note from Pancho Brownin his pocket, with some difficulty made his way to meet them. He wasquite aware that Brown was probably the only Englishman in those islandswho would have been able to reserve desirable places at a corrida detoros.

  Jacinta, who accompanied him, was attended by his Spanish housekeeperand two sunburnt English naval officers, but she made room for Austin onone side of her, and appeared in no way displeased by his indifferentlyveiled approbation. Miss Brown had been dressed by a Castilian modeste,mostly in black lace, that day, and her clustering brown hair wasornamented by a little mantilla of the same material. It was not a dresswhich would have suited every Englishwoman, especially of substantialtype, but Jacinta was slight, and delicately round, and altogethersylph-like.

  "You venture to approve of this get-up?" she said. "The tourists were alittle horrified at the hotel."

  Austin, who wore white duck, noticed that she smiled at the Governor,who sat above them amidst his glittering staff, and that almost sufficedto spoil his satisfaction, though it was only one of the many littlethings that emphasised the difference between them. Still, he contrivedto laugh.

  "I expect they were envious. It's bewilderingly effective, and I am abit of an artist, as you know," he said. "I was wondering whether youwould have the courage to come."

  "Jacinta," said Pancho Brown, "has courage enough for anything. Still,she came because I asked her. I make my living out of these people, and,perhaps, a little more. It was policy."

  Jacinta laughed. "Well," she said, "I rather like it, and I have beenbefore. Of course, I mean after they have killed the horses and smashedthe picadores. That part is not only cruel, but ineffective. It's notinspiriting to see a man padded with leather sit quite still to beknocked over. They should either wipe it out or give them stuffedhorses. By the way, you don't know my companions."

  The two naval officers acknowledged the introduction with characteristicbrevity. Their eyes were fixed on the arena, and the scene was probablyworth their attention, for there are parts of a bull fight which cannotbe termed revolting, at least, by those who have actually witnessedthem.

  A lithe, well-favoured man, picturesquely attired, skipped into thering, holding a crimson cape in one hand, and a couple of littledecorated darts in the other. It was his business to strike them intothe neck or shoulder of the bull, but nowhere else, while their pointswere calculated to do no more than exasperate it. The beast watched himsavagely, pawing up the sand, and the chances appeared somewhat againstthe man, since to reach its neck he must approach his silk-coveredbreast within an inch or two of the gleaming horns, one of which wassuspiciously reddened.

  Austin could not quite see how he did it, for his motions werebewilderingly rapid, but he saw the wave of the gaudy cloak and heardits crisp rustle that was lost in the roar. Then the man was runninground the ring for his life, and the bull thundering along with loweredhead and a dart bristling in its neck, a yard or two behind him. He hadno time to swing himself over the barricade, as hard pressedbanderilleros now and then did, for the deadly horns were almost in thesmall of his back. It was a frantic test of speed, highly trained humanagility and endurance against the strength of the beast, and there wasdead silence while they went round the arena once, the man runningdesperately, with tense, set face, while Austin fancied he could hearhis gasping breath through the roar of the hoofs. Then, with a splendidbound, he drew a yard ahead, and another man with a green cape hurledhimself through the opening. Somehow he escaped destruction, and thebull slid onward with hoofs ploughing up the sand, and the gaudy silkfluttering about its head. There was a roar of plaudits that could havebeen heard miles away at sea, and while from tiers of benches the hatscame sailing down, the bull, which shook the cape off, tore the colouredrags to fragments.

  "That fellow has good nerves," said one of the navy men. "I don't seeanything very brutal in it, after all. They both start level, and taketheir chances, you know."

  Jacinta looked at Austin over her fan, and there was a faint flush in asmuch of her face as he could see, as well as a little gleam in hereyes.

  "I'm afraid it--is--a little barbarous," she said. "Everybody says so.Still, wasn't that banderillero splendid! You see, I have put onCastilian notions with my clothes. Of course, as an Englishwoman, Icould never venture here."

  Austin was a little annoyed to feel that he was smiling sardonically."Well," he said, "I should almost have fancied that you were toosuper-refined and ethereal to admire that kind of thing, but I reallybelieve you do."

  Jacinta waved her fan. "Do not be deceived, my friend. There is a gooddeal of the primitive in us all, and it shows up now and then." Then shelaughed. "I wonder how they all get their right hats back again."

  Austin could not tell her, for it was a thing he could never understand;but while the attendants were still flinging the black sombreros intothe air another banderillero approached the bull. He planted one dartand then dashed across the ring, but either his nerve failed him, or hecould not trust his speed, for he grasped the top of the barricade andswung himself over. In another moment the bull struck it with a crash,and then stood still, half stunned, apparently endeavouring to make outwhere the man had gone. There was a storm of hisses and opprobriouscries.

  "That banderillero," said Jacinta, sweetly, "should have been driven outof the ring. He ought never to have undertaken a thing that was too bigfor him."

  "Isn't that a little hard upon the man?" said Austin. "He probablydidn't know it was too big until he had undertaken it."

  "That's sensible, Miss Brown," said one of the navy men. "When he foundhe couldn't run as fast as the bull could what was he to do?"

  "What did a certain gunboat's men do when they found themselves quiteunexpectedly in front of the African headman's battery?"

  The navy man flushed a little, for he was young. "Oh," he said, "thatwas different. They set their lips and went in, though I don't supposeany of them liked it. Still, you see, that was what they were there todo."

  "Exactly!" and Jacinta laughed a little, though there was still a gleamin her eyes, and it was Austin she looked at. "They did the obvious, aswell as the most artistic thing. It fortunately happens that they'reoften very much the same."

  "I'm not quite sure I understand you," said the young officer. "Peoplewho want me to have to talk plain. Still, I suppose one has always acertain sympathy for the fellow who gets himself killed decently."

  Then, for a time, they became absorbed in the play of the banderilleros,who, flashing here and there, with cloaks of red, and gold, and green,passed the bull from one to another up and down the trampled arena. Now,one of them escaped annihilation by a hairsbreadth, while the thunderingvivas went up to the glaring sky, and a comrade turned the tormentedbeast again. Now, a silk-clad athlete swept through the two-foot gapbetween deadly horns and flying man, and the bull swung round with abellow to pursue him, or stood still, temporarily blinded with the gaudycloak about its horns. It was a fascinating exhibition of human nerveand skill, and Austin saw that Jacinta watched it with slightly partedlips and a gleam in her eyes, until at last the bugles rang, and most ofthe men withdrew, leaving the bull alone in the middle of the arena,with the foam flakes dripping from its muzzle and its brawny neckbristling with the little darts. Then there was a general movement and agreat
hum of voices rose from the close-packed benches. Jacinta wavedher fan, and touched Austin's arm as she looked about her.

  "Surely that is Macallister. But whatever is he doing there?" she said.

  Austin looked up across the long rows of faces, and saw his comradesitting, spick and span in the blue Spanish mail uniform, among thebrilliant officers of the Governor's staff. Macallister was a big man,with a commanding appearance, when he had for the time being done withthe engine room, and Austin, who knew that he could make friends withanybody, was not astonished to notice that he seemed very much at home.

  "It is rather more than I know," he said. "Still, I should fancy he wastelling them something amusing in execrable Castilian, by the way theyare laughing. I believe Macallister could get anywhere he wanted. Hehas, as a matter of fact, dragged me into somewhat astonishing places."

  "I shouldn't wonder," said one of the navy men. "George, isn't that bigfellow in the uniform yonder the one we saw the other night at theopera?"

  "It is," said his comrade, with a little soft laugh, as though heremembered something that had afforded him considerable pleasure.

  Jacinta touched Austin with her fan. "I presume you know what he isreferring to?"

  "Well," said Austin, "what I do know is this. Mack and I went to see theItalian company the other night, and because he, of course, kneweverybody about the place, we went behind the scenes. He, unfortunately,became interested in the stage machinery, and when he had made spiritedattempts to pull some of it to pieces, I and the improvisatore beguiledhim to a chair in the wings. We gave him a cigar to keep him quiet, aswell as the libretto, which he could not read, and, as he seemedsomewhat sleepy, I was thankful to leave him there. I didn't care aboutthat opera. He never told me what happened after."

  The young officer laughed again. "I daresay I can enlighten you. In themiddle of the last act one of the wings collapsed, and everybody saw abig Englishman, who had apparently just kicked it over, sitting, halfasleep, in a folding chair. He didn't appear to have any legitimateconnection with the drama, but he brought the house down when he got upin a hurry and fell over his chair."

  Then the shrill call of the bugles rang through the great building, anda tall man, with a scarred face, gorgeously dressed, walked into thearena, holding a three-cornered hat and a long, straight sword. He stoodstill a moment, an imposing and curiously graceful figure, with brightblade lowered, while a tumultuous shout of "MA|stro!" filled thebuilding; and then, taking a cloak from an attendant, approached thebull. It was freely smeared with blood, and as it stood, bellowing, andpawing the sand in murderous rage, it was evident that the MA|stro's taskwas not a particularly pleasant one. There was only one way in which hecould kill the bull, and that was to pass his sword over the horns anddown into the brawny chest, near the base of the neck. Should he strikeelsewhere it was probable that the vast assembly would descend andtrample on him, for this was a duel to the death between man and beast,in which the latter was secured what seemed an even chance bypunctilious etiquette. The Spaniard displays a good deal of sympathywith a gallant bull.

  The beast seemed to understand that this man was different from thebanderilleros who had previously tormented it, and backed away from himuntil he smote it lightly on the nostrils. Then it swept forward in asavage rush but though the man's movements were so quick that onescarcely noticed them, he was not quite where he had been a momentearlier, when the bull thundered past him. Still, one horn had ripped astrip of silk from him. He followed the beast, and struck it with hishand, and for five or six frenzied minutes the vast audience roared.This man never ran. He stepped backwards, or twisted, always with gravegracefulness, in the nick of time, until at last the bull stood still,as though stupefied with rage or uncertain how to attack its elusivepersecutor.

  Then, as the man walked up to it very quietly and unconcernedly, itseemed to hump itself together for a furious bound and rush with loweredhead, and there was no sound in the great building until the brightsteel flashed. Man's breast and gleaming horns seemed to meet, butapparently in the same second the gorgeously clad figure had steppedaside, and in the next the bull plunged forward and came down upon itsknees.

  There was another roar, and once more from all the close-packed benchescame the rain of hats, cigars, and bundles of cigarettes.

  "Ah," said Jacinta, with a little gasp, "I think I have seen enough.There will be another bull and more picadores now. I never could standthat part of it. Besides, I have done my duty, and patronised the show."

  They made their way out while the audience waited for another bull, andcertain leather-swathed picadores rode in on decrepit, blindfoldedhorses, brought there to be killed; and it was an hour later when, asthey stood beneath the oleanders in a fonda garden looking down upon thewhite-walled town, Jacinta mentioned the affair again.

  "Of course, it is a little cruel; but, after all, it appeals to rathermore than the lower passions and lust of slaughter, don't you think?"she said.

  "I never saw anything to equal that MA|stro's play in my life," said oneof the young officers. "It was cool daring in the superlative degree."

  "I fancy," said Austin, "you want us to make excuses for your beingthere."

  Jacinta laughed. "Not exactly! I am rather proud of being a law tomyself--and others--you know. Now, I really think that the qualities theMA|stro possessed appealed to me, though I naturally mean some and notall of them. I am, after all, as I admitted, a little primitive in somerespects."

  "You mean that you like a man to be daring?" asked the other officer.

  "Of course!" and once more it was Austin Jacinta looked at. "Still, Idon't necessarily mean that everybody should go bull-fighting. There areother things more worth while."

  "Even than sailing round the Canaries and painting little pictures?"said Austin.

  Jacinta glanced at him with a curious smile. "Well," she said, "sinceyou ask me, I almost think there are." Then she stopped a moment, andstood looking out from among the oleanders towards the glittering heaveof the Atlantic across the white-walled town. Once more a faint gleamcrept into her eyes.

  "I wonder," she added, "what Jefferson is doing--out yonder in Africa."