CHAPTER VII
A WARNING
It was a bright morning when the S.S. _Manyamba_ rolled south into sightof the Canaries over a white-flecked sea. They rose rather like dim blueclouds than islands athwart the far horizon, with one glistening conecut off by silver mists from the ocean plain beneath, towering highabove the loftiest. Maxwell leaned over the poop rails, while Dane, themiddle-aged purser, and Miss Bonita Castro stood near by. The lady'sfather, a little, olive-faced Portuguese, with shifty black eyes,lounged in a deck chair watching them languidly. There were fewpassengers on board, and the members of the group, who had made friendssomewhat rapidly, were now amusing themselves by shooting at the bottlesa steward forward flung into the sea.
A big pistol flashed in Miss Castro's hand. The purser clutched at astanchion and uttered a quick exclamation; Maxwell wheeled roundsuddenly. A bottle, ceasing its gyrations, sank into the white wash ofthe screw, and the lady laughed as she lowered the pistol muzzle.
"_Tres!_" she cried exultantly. "That is three to me! _Carramba!_ I havealso it seem, as you say, nearly bag the Senor Maxwell."
If Dom Pedro Castro was a typical Portuguese, his wife had been anAndalusian, and his daughter, while speaking several languages ratherprettily than well, preferred her mother's tongue, and had inherited afull share of the voluptuous beauty of a race whose women are famous inSpain. She formed an interesting picture as she stood with the blue ofthe sea behind her, laughter in her dark eyes, and the pistol stillsmoking in her hand. They were remarkably attractive eyes; and Maxwell,knowing what to look for, saw more than Dane had apparently seen intheir depths, and decided to warn his comrade to beware of them. A faintcarmine warmth emphasized the comeliness of the slightly dusky face,while graceful pose and figure were both characteristic of a woman ofher extraction as yet well short of the age at which Southern beautychanges into grossness.
"You have not the fright, Senor Maxwell, though a little nearer and weleave you behind?" she added naively.
Maxwell did not look frightened, though he might well have been, for thebullet had passed him close. He answered with a smile which, as Dane hadnoticed before, appeared to linger on his lips after the gravity hadreturned to his eyes.
"No, senorita. If a man could choose his last resting-place, wouldn'tthis blue water be much nicer than a mangrove swamp in Africa. That verylittle, however, makes a vast difference; and you have won the gloves.You shall have the best in Las Palmas to-night. You will land us bysunset, Mr. Purser?"
"Yes." The Purser sighed with relief when he saw that the contest wasover. "Hadn't you better give me that pistol, senorita? Accidents happenwhen one least expects them, and the Company would hold me responsibleif you killed anybody. I don't think the skipper would see quite as muchhumor in the position as you seem to."
Bonita laughed with the light-heartedness of a child, and glanceddemurely at Dane.
"To kill the Senor Maxwell, or my good friend Don Ilton, is catastrophe;but to kill a bad man, it is nothing. Many men are killed in Africa; Imyself shoot one. There was in him the blood of the negro, and he forgetit when without respect he speak to me."
Dane was a trifle staggered by the matter-of-fact manner in which MissCastro mentioned the way she had disposed of one whom he surmised hadbeen too venturesome a suitor.
"_Verdad!_" exclaimed Dom Pedro. "The man, by bad fortune, he is notdie, and that affair is cost me much commercio. My daughter she has, inyour English, the spirited way."
The lady's face changed suddenly as she turned toward Maxwell.
"I beat you, Senor, but it is because you are _muy caballero_, andprefer the defeat from me. You have the steady hand and the dangerouseye, and have not the fear. That is well if you go up into the forest inmy country. It is different with your friend. The pistol is not for him.No, he remind me of those big fair men with the axes I read of inEngland. I make you my compliments, Don Ilton, and you show me where theswift Bonita he leap at the bow."
Whether, because Miss Castro was fond of admiration, this was done outof pique at Maxwell's indifference to her attractions, Dane naturallydid not know, but he answered with a bow, and the two strolled forwardtogether. There were no porpoises circling, as they often will, athwartthe stem, but the lady who perched herself upon a knighthead seemed inno way disappointed. The sun made rainbows in the spray which whirledbeneath her, as each blue ridge fell back shattered from the shearingbows; and nowhere else could one realize so well the swift passage ofthe quivering hull through the white-topped seas, or feel the samecradle-like rise and fall of the warm deck planking.
"All this," remarked Miss Castro, "is very nice; and the Senor Maxwell,who is _muy caballero_, but somber sometimes, he is not here. You havemy permission to sit there, and I will talk to you."
Dane afterward wondered why, in place of doing so, she led him on totalk about his comrade; but it was perhaps not unnatural that he shouldfind a certain degree of pleasure in the society of his comely andversatile companion. He knew little of Miss Castro beyond what thepurser had told him, and that Maxwell had met her elsewhere; but he wasto learn more in due time. She had been educated in some Spanishconvent; but, being born on the fever coast, could withstand theclimate, and she spent part of her time there in her father's factory,and the rest with her mother's sister in the Canaries. Dom Pedro wasassumed to be a tolerably prosperous trader.
An hour had passed before the two came aft together, and on the nextopportunity Maxwell took his friend to task.
"It is perhaps time for me to warn you about playing with fire, Hilton,"he said. "Miss Castro is certainly pretty, but her people don'tunderstand the game of flirtation as played in England. In allemotional questions they're unpleasantly in earnest. I may remind youthat I met the senorita in Africa."
"I have not so far obtruded my advice on you," Dane returned. "Don't youthink this----"
"Is an impertinence?" and Maxwell smiled. "Perfectly. I also admit thatthe role of mentor does not become me. Nevertheless, when Miss Castrocasually mentioned how she got rid of her last suitor, there wassomething in her eyes which might have warned an observer. You needn'ttrouble about a neat rejoinder, because I'll retire, having done myduty."
"I mean to call upon Miss Castro at the Catalina to-morrow. Yourwarning, however, is superfluous, as it will be the last time I shallsee her. She is remaining here."
There was a trace of mischief in Maxwell's smile as he answered.
"I am going with you. You need not express astonishment. She invitedme."
It was a sunny afternoon when they went ashore together; but they didnot find Miss Castro immediately at her hotel. It appeared that theBritish tourists and invalids who sojourned in the dusty Spanish cityhad joined hands with its leading inhabitants over the organization of agala for the benefit of local institutions, and Miss Castro was playingthe part of soothsayer in the cause of charity.
Dane found it pleasant, in spite of the dust, to watch the white mistssliding athwart the great volcanic peaks, and the silvery spray tossbeneath the white-walled city. The assembly also was interesting. Gailyuniformed Castilian officer, and British tourist fantastically attired,jostled each other. Dark-skinned, black-haired beauties--pleasant tolook upon even when they wore Parisian headgear instead of the nationalmantilla--in filmy draperies, flitted in and out among youngEnglishwomen, whose indifferent faces and attire emphasized the contrastbetween their respective characters; while here and there a matron oftheir own nation stood surveying the scene with the pitying contempt foreverything foreign which too many insular Britons consider impresses thebenighted alien. Good music mingled with the merry voices, swish ofdiaphanous dresses, clank of sabers, and patter of feet, and through allrang the monotone of the sea.
"Look at it well," said Maxwell. "It is the last glimpse of civilizationyou will get for many a day. Henceforward our path leads us into a landof eternal shadow haunted by all things evil; at least, and they havesome reason, so the negroes say. There's the senorita, telling fortunesin
that striped tent. It is curious that she is beckoning--me."
Maxwell pushed his way through the throng surrounding a gaudy pavilion,where Miss Castro was evidently doing excellent business; and presentlyhe returned, smiling curiously.
"She wishes to tell your fortune. Go in and spend a crown in the causeof charity. I can't say that mine was a very good one, but the senoritashowed an accuracy which was, under the circumstances, surprising."
Dane made his way with difficulty into the tent, and when his eyes grewused to the change from brilliant sunshine to shadow, he realized onereason for Miss Castro's success. She wore the dress of the Andaluces,thin, lace-like draperies of black, sufficiently short to reveal thetiny high-arched feet in dainty Moorish slippers. A gauzy black mantillaand a crimson rose adorned her hair, while the graces of her figure wereemphasized by a broad zone of African gold, chased with zodiacalcharacters by sable craftsmen. The costume suited her; and Miss Castrowas probably aware of the fact.
"So you will learn a little of the future, Don Ilton?" she said, withunusual gravity. "No, you must not smile. This is not the charlatan'strickery. The ancient Moors they teach us wisdom, and I have study. So,we throw there the crown, and I lay this Aggri in your palm. The Aggrihas virtue, though what it is no man know."
She detached from her bracelet an insignificant bead, one of themysterious Aggri which cannot be counterfeited, and, as Dane afterwardlearned, can hardly be bought with money in West Africa.
"It is a big, hard hand, and has done much work, perhaps with theshovel, in a hot country--I think the Sud America," she said. "It willalso hold the rifle. It is well to hold the rifle straight in Africa."
Miss Castro had splendid eyes, of a kind that it is not wise for asusceptible man to gaze into too steadily while his hand is held in verypretty fingers; and Dane felt it incumbent on him to break the spell.
"This is not all divination, senorita. I told you I was going inlandfrom the African coast; though I certainly did not tell you I had beenin South America. Did you guess it by my darkened skin?"
"It is not the trickery," repeated Miss Castro. "I tell you only thethings I know. There is blood on your path through the forest--blood,and a shadow that follows, creeping always behind. Look well to yourfriend. The shadow follows, but does not rest on--you. If it should,there is a pale, cold woman in England who--but I cannot tell you if shewould be sorry, or if you will ever see her again. There is alsotreasure, but the lines fade and the crosses are many, with only thesign of danger clear. I can see no farther. Only the good saints knowthe end."
She paused for a moment, leaving Dane somewhat impressed, for, althoughno believer in palmistry of that description, he had seen that MissCastro was apparently not speaking without a purpose. Then she laid downthe Aggri and, it seemed to Dane, her mantle of prophetesssimultaneously, saying in her usual tone, but with somewhat unusualearnestness:
"And now you will not laugh while I give you the warning. Beware ofthese three things: a man with the holy cross on his forehead, thecarved calabash, and the leopard's skin. You will remember always, buttell only the Senor Maxwell. There is one at least who would not havethat shadow overtake you. It may be I shall see you in Africa."
Here the eager crowd outside showed signs of storming the tent, and Danewas forced to take his leave, reflecting that it might perhaps be aswell if they did not, as Miss Castro expected, meet in Africa. RejoiningMaxwell, he told him what he had heard, concluding:
"It much resembled the usual professional soothsayer's medley, and Icould make neither head nor tail of it. Still, the senorita's mannerimpressed me."
"How did she look or speak?" Maxwell's glance betrayed his interest.
"As though she believed what she was saying, and wished me to."
"I am inclined to think she did," Maxwell answered thoughtfully. "Shewas also probably giving you good advice in the one way available. Howshe knows I cannot tell, but by the light of past experience I can makea good deal of the medley. As you probably surmised, her warning was notthe result of divination."
Maxwell did not appear inclined to answer questions, and, dismissing thesubject, they proceeded to make the most of their last few hours uponwhat he termed Christian soil. The black peaks were fading against thesaffron in the west, and purple darkness creeping up from Africa acrossthe sea, when the mail gun warned them it was time to return to thesteamer.
"We shall have seen, and perhaps suffered, very strange things before weset foot in a civilized land again," said Maxwell. "It is not a tropicalsporting trip that we are embarking upon. There remain just five minutesfor a valedictory libation."
"Champagne!" Dane said to the Swiss attendant as they passed through theveranda of the hotel; and presently he rose from a little table, holdingup the sparkling cup. Maxwell's hints had impressed him, and there was agrimness behind his smile when he spoke.
"Here's death or glory! A swift journey to the heart of the forest!"
Maxwell generally frowned upon anything that approached the theatrical,but, as he touched his comrade's glass with his own, his face was grave.
"Heaven send us both back safe out of it and--because the one impliesthe other--confound the cross-marked man!"
Dane asked no questions. Maxwell was always slightly oracular, and mightnot have answered them; and a few minutes later they were being rowedoff to the steamer in company with Dom Pedro Castro.
The _Manyamba_ was not a fast boat; she anchored off many surf-hammeredbeaches before she reached the one where the adventurers had arranged todisembark, and where, as it happened, Dom Pedro had built his principalfactory. He proved a pleasant companion, though Dane fancied that he wasweak alike in character and in principle. One day as they rolled slowlyalong the spray-veiled coast with a maze of half-seen mangroves over theport hand, Dom Pedro sauntered across the deck toward Dane.
"You go up into the Leopard's country to look for gold?" he said,glancing at Dane in a manner which puzzled him.
"We are certainly going inland, but I am afraid that is all I can tellyou," Dane replied guardedly.
Dom Pedro smiled.
"Then you seek the gold. Even your countrymen do not go into that forestfor pleasure. But only one man, I think, has seen that gold since themen of my nation who came after Gama ruled this country. That man hedie, as you call it, crazy. How much your expedition cost you, DonIlton?"
Dane mentioned an approximate sum, expressing his surprise that thequestioner should even have guessed their object, but refraining fromstating whether the guess was a correct one; and the elder man spreadout his yellow palms deprecatingly.
"Where the gold lie is not concern me. I am gentleman of peace andcommercio. There is one man, not all the nigger, who think he know, andanother not all a white man who will pay him to hinder you. More I onlyguess at and cannot tell you, but I know you and the Senor Maxwell neverpass the Leopard country. Don Ilton, I presume you bold man who comehere to make the money. With the sum you mention I show you how. It isnot all for the good will, but for the assistance also of me."
Now Dane might have suspected treachery, but he did not do so. Indeed,he was inclined to fancy the offer and warning were genuine. He declinedthe offer, however; and consulted Maxwell on the first opportunity.
"I believe what he told you was spoken in good faith," Maxwell said;"and he was perfectly correct. The first man he mentioned is probablythe rascal who betrayed poor Niven; and Rideau must be the other. Hehas, if I am correct in my surmises, had dealings not wholly creditableto either, with Dom Pedro; and it is possible the latter might havefound us useful. This, combination may, however, increase ourdifficulties."
The League of the Leopard Page 7