CHAPTER II
THE WESTERN ISLANDS
The first day or so of the voyage seemed long to Irma. She could not liein a steamer chair, and pretend to read, as Aunt Caroline did. She hadmore than a suspicion that her aunt seldom turned the leaves of herbook, and that left to herself she was apt to doze, although eachmorning Uncle Jim placed beside her chair a large basket containingbooks and magazines.
"Lean back, Irma," Uncle Jim would say, "you are not a real bird thatyou need perch on the arm of your chair. Lean back; I will fix yourcushions--as Marion is not here to do this for you," he concludedmischievously.
"I wonder what Marion does with himself," interposed Aunt Caroline. "Wesee him only at meals, and I thought he would be such company for Irma."
"Irma doesn't need him," responded Uncle Jim. "Come, my dear, let uslook at the steerage."
"Don't go below," protested Aunt Caroline. "You don't know whatfrightful disease you might catch."
"We'll only look over the railing," and Uncle Jim led Irma to a spotwhere she could look down at the steerage passengers, sitting in the sunon the deck below.
"It's not very crowded," explained Uncle Jim, "on the passage to Europeat this season. Most of those you see have a free passage because theauthorities fear they may become public charges."
"How hard!"
"No, my dear. Many of them have better food and quarters here than theyever have on shore."
"Are there many sick among them?"
"The doctor told me of one poor woman who may not live until shereaches the Azores. She has been working in New Bedford, but when thedoctors told her she could not live long, she was sure the air of theWestern Islands would cure her. So her friends had a raffle, and raisedenough for her passage, and a little more for her to live on after herarrival here, at least, that's what Marion told me."
"Marion!"
"Yes, he takes a great interest in the steerage. I dare say he knowsthose three ferocious-looking desperadoes in the corner."
"Desperadoes!"
"Well, they might be brigands, might they not? at least judging fromtheir appearance. Most men returning at this season--and not a few ofthe women, too--are sent back by our Government because undesirable forcitizenship."
"Oh!" exclaimed Irma. "That explains why so many wear strange clothes.They are really foreigners."
"Yes. The majority of them have probably never even landed."
As Irma turned away, her interest in the steerage increased rather thanlessened. But when she asked Uncle Jim questions, she found he knewlittle about individuals. She wished that Marion would talk to her. Shebelieved that he could tell her what she wished to know. But as the dayspassed Marion did not thaw out. It is true he usually reported the day'srun to Irma, a little ahead of the time when it was marked on the ship'schart, and if she was not near Aunt Caroline when the steward passedaround with his tea and cakes, he would usually hunt her up. But if shebegan to talk to him, he answered in the briefest words, and did notencourage further conversation.
One day, when he came to the table rather more animated than usual, shecould not help overhearing him describe a visit he had made to the lowerregions of the ship, where he had seen the inner workings of things. Shelistened eagerly to his description of the stoking hole with the flamesweirdly lighting up the figures of the busy stokers. This interested hermore than what he told of the machinery and the huge refrigeratingplant.
"The doctor might have asked me, too. It's different from the steerage.Marion is very selfish, never to think of me. If there were more girlsof my age, I wouldn't care. There isn't a boy in Cranston who would beso mean."
Soon after this, the day before they reached the Azores, Irma made theacquaintance of the one girl on board, near her own age. Hitherto Murielhad looked at her wistfully, not venturing to leave her governess, whotalked French endlessly, as they paced the deck. But now, as Irma waswatching a game of shuffleboard, played by older persons, Murielapproached and began a conversation, and soon the two were comparingtheir present impressions and their future plans.
"I'm awfully tired of Europe," said Muriel. "We go every year, but thistime it may not be so bad, as we are to motor through Italy."
The most of this day the two new friends were together, separating onlyto finish the letters that they wished to mail at St. Michael's.
After dinner, when Irma went back to the dining saloon, the mail stewardsat at a table with a scale before him, receiving money for the stampshe was to put on letters at Ponta Delgada.
"Why, here's my little lady of the stamps," cried a voice in Irma's ear,and turning, she recognized the little old gentleman, whom she had notseen since the first day.
Irma returned his greeting, and he went up with her toward the deck.
"It's so mild," she explained, "that my aunt said I might sit outside.I am so anxious to see land."
"Even if we were nearer shore, there's not moon enough to show anoutline. Why are you so anxious to see land?"
"Because it will be my first foreign country. Except when we sailed fromNew York, I had never been out of New England."
"There are worse places to spend one's life in than New England," andthe old gentleman sighed, as he added, "yet in the fifty years since Ileft it, I have been back only half a dozen times."
"I suppose you know the Azores," ventured Irma.
"Oh, yes, the country was very primitive in the old days. The interior,they tell me, has changed little, but the cities are more up to date."
"Cities?"
"Not large cities like ours in America, though Ponta Delgada is thethird largest in Portugal. But there, young ladies of your age dislikeguidebook information, at least out of school."
"Oh, please go on," begged Irma, and for half an hour her new friendtalked delightfully about the Azores and other places.
"Ah, there's Uncle Jim," she exclaimed, as she saw her uncle approachingunder one of the electric lights.
"I never thought of finding you out here alone," cried her uncle.
"Not alone," rejoined Irma, turning to introduce her new friend. But hehad mysteriously disappeared.
"It is high time to come in, if the night air makes you see double,"said Uncle Jim dryly. But Irma gave no explanations. How could she haveintroduced the old gentleman, when she did not know his name?
"Aunt Caroline says please hurry. They are in sight." Thus Marion'svoice and repeated rappings waked Irma the next morning.
"Who are in sight?" she asked sleepily.
"The Azores, of course."
"Oh, dear," cried Irma, forgetting to thank Marion for his trouble."Why," she wondered, "did I take this particular morning to oversleep?"Dressing at lightning speed, after a hurried repast she was soon ondeck. Then, to her disappointment, there was nothing to see. Theislands, wherever they might be, were veiled by a soft mist.
"They have been in sight for hours," some one said. Irma wished she hadasked her steward to call her at dawn. Not until they were well uponPonta Delgada did they have their first glimpse of St. Michael's towardnoon, and the warmth of the sun was modified by the thin veil of mist.Gradually the mist dissolved, and not far away was the green shore, andbehind, a line of low, conical mountains parallel with the coast. Then awhite village appeared, and soon the spires and red roofs of PontaDelgada.
Luncheon had been served early, and towards one o'clock the boatstopped, when still some distance from land. Large rowboats were pushingout from shore, and one or two tugs carrying the Portuguese flag.
"The tugs are bringing health and customs officers. We can't land untilthey have made their examination," Uncle Jim explained.
"How tedious to wait when we shall have so little time at the best!"
"Are we to go in those dreadful little boats?"
"Oh, it's a smooth sea; we'll get there safely enough."
"The town looks decidedly Spanish."
These and many similar remarks floated to Irma's ears. What impressedher most was the fact that she must
descend the steep steps that thesailors were letting down from the side, and go ashore in a boat.
"It's safe enough," said Aunt Caroline. "Any one is foolish who remainson the ship. But I am willing to stay here myself."
So Aunt Caroline remained on the boat, and Irma, with Uncle Jim aheadand Marion behind, went down the long steps cautiously. When she hadtaken her seat in the large rowboat, she found herself near Muriel andher governess. The two girls were soon deep in conversation, whileMarion, some distance away, sat listless and silent.
"Your brother isn't cheerful to-day," said Muriel, as the boat nearedshore.
"He isn't my brother,--far from it," responded Irma, and unluckily atthat moment Marion, rising to be of assistance to the ladies on landing,was near enough to hear both Muriel's remark and Irma's answer.
"Well, I am very glad not to be her brother," he thought, "and as tothat other girl, she's exactly the kind I don't like." And in this moodMarion jumped hastily off when the boat pulled up, and running up theshort steps, walked along the quay in solitary sulkiness, with his handsin his pockets.
"Your cavalier seems to have left you," said Uncle Jim mischievously, ashe helped Irma ashore. "I wonder if he will condescend to join us on ourtour of the town."
When they had pushed their way among the loungers at the wharf, however,they saw Marion standing near an open carriage, drawn by two underfedhorses.
"How would this suit?" he asked. "The best carriages have been taken.You know our boat was almost the last."
"Over there are a couple of good automobiles looking for passengers."
For the instant Marion's face clouded. "Oh, of course," added Uncle Jimhastily. "I had forgotten. That wouldn't do. These horses may provebetter than they look, and as we have no time to lose, let us start."
Before setting off, Uncle Jim turned about to see whether Muriel andMademoiselle Potin had found a vehicle. Already they were seated in acarriage much like the one he had chosen, with horses that lookedequally meek and hungry.
Then Uncle Jim's driver flourished and snapped his whip, and the horseswent off at a lively pace. Irma, indeed, wished they would go moreslowly, that she could get a better idea of the narrow streets. Yet evenas they drove rapidly along she had a definite impression of cleanpavements and small houses, many of them painted in bright colors. Afterthey had left the little crowd near the wharf, the streets seemeddeserted. Here and there an old man hobbled along, or a woman with ashawl over her head, or a girl with a large basket of fruit. They metoddly constructed carts, drawn by donkeys, and once they stopped to buyfruit from a man who bore a long pole on his shoulders, from one end ofwhich hung a string of bananas, while from the other dangled a dozenpineapples.
"Fortunately," said Uncle Jim, "as our time is limited, there are notmany important things to see in Ponta Delgada. We shall be obliged tolook at so many churches in Italy that we can neglect those here."
"I'd like to see the church where Columbus and his sailors gave thanks,when they landed there after the storm."
"Santa Maria! Miles away!" cried Marion.
"Well," said Irma, slightly snubbed, "even if this isn't the place, itis interesting to remember that some of these islands had been settledyears and years before America was discovered."
Soon they reached the famous garden, one of the two or three things bestworth seeing in the town. When they walked through the great iron gatesopened by a respectful servitor, at once Irma felt she was in a regionof mystery. The three went along in silence under tall trees whosebranches arched over the broad path.
Turning aside an instant, they gazed down a deep ravine, with banksmoss-grown and covered with ferns. Far below was a little stream, andhere and there the ravine was spanned by rustic bridges. Irma caught aglimpse of a dark grotto and a carved stone seat.
"It is rather musty here; let us hurry on," suggested Uncle Jim.
"Musty!" protested Irma. "It is like poetry."
"Well, poetry is rather musty sometimes."
Irma could not tell whether or not Marion was in earnest.
Farther in the garden they saw more flowers--waxlike camellias and somebrilliant blossoms that neither she nor her companions could name. Butthere were other favorites--fuschias, geraniums, roses, in size andbeauty surpassing anything Irma had ever seen.
"It reminds me of California," said Marion.
"Yes, there is the same soft air combined with the moisture that plantslove. Europe has no finer gardens than one or two of these on St.Michael's. We'll have no time for another that belonged to Jose deCantos. The owner died a few years ago and left it to the public, withenough money to keep it up. It has bamboo trees and palm trees andmammoth ferns and the greenhouses are filled with orchids. But we'llhave to leave that for another visit. It is better now to go where wecan get a general view of this part of the island."
In the course of their walk they had met groups of sightseers from theship. But when they were ready to go back they had to turn to a group ofold men and women at work on a garden bed, who, with gesticulations,directed them to the right path.
"Every one seems old here," said Irma, "even the men sweeping leavesfrom the paths with their twig brooms look nearly a hundred."
"The young and strong probably emigrate," said Uncle Jim.
On leaving the garden the coachman took them to the "buena vista," ahill where they had a lovely view of land and water. Far, far as theycould see, stretched fertile farms with comfortable houses andoutbuildings.
"Small farms," explained Uncle Jim, "ought to mean that a good manypeople are very well off, and yet it is said that most of the peoplehere are poor."
When they were in the center of the town again, they sent theircarriage away, and then Irma and Marion hastened to one of the littleshops on the square, where the former bought post cards and the lattersome small silver souvenirs. They rejoined Uncle Jim at the Cathedraldoor, but a glance at its tawdry interior contented them. Uncle Jimfilled Irma's arms with flowers bought from one of the young flowersellers, and when at last they reached the wharf, they were among thelast to embark for the ship. Muriel and Mademoiselle Potin were waitingfor the same boat, and when they compared notes, the two girls foundthat they had seen practically the same things, though in a differentorder.
During their two or three hours on shore a fresh breeze had sprung up,and the waves were high. The boat, making her way with difficulty,sometimes did not seem perfectly under the control of the stalwartoarsmen. This at least was Irma's opinion, as she sat there trembling.Even Muriel, the experienced traveller, looked pale, and Irma wonderedhow Marion felt, seated near the bow with his face turned resolutelyaway from his friends.
"How huge the ship is," exclaimed Muriel, as they drew near the_Ariadne_, a great black hulk whose keel seemed to touch bottom.
For a moment Irma had a spasm of fear. What if this great, black thingshould tip over some night! How could she make up her mind to live in itfor another week!
Their rowers rested on their oars a few minutes, while other boats justahead were putting passengers aboard. Looking to the decks so far above,Irma recognized Aunt Caroline waving her handkerchief. If only she couldfly up there without any further battling with the waves!
"Come, Irma," said Uncle Jim. "There isn't the least danger. I will stayon the boat until the last, and you can step just ahead of me."
All the others, even Muriel and Mademoiselle, had gone up the stairsbefore Marion. He was just ahead of Irma, and when he had his footing,he stood a step or two from the bottom, to help Irma. The men haddifficulty in steadying the boat. But one of them held Irma firmly,until her feet were on a dry step. Then, as Marion extended his hand toher, she put out hers when, it was hard to tell how it really happened,Marion's foot slipped, and instead of helping Irma he fell against her,almost throwing her into the tossing waves.
Irma, however, fortunately kept her presence of mind. Not only did shegrasp the guard rope quickly, but with her other arm she held Marionfirmly. Their feet were
wet by the dashing waves, but there was nofurther damage. They had had a great fright, though Marion seemed tosuffer the most. When Irma relaxed her hold, she could walk up to thedeck unaided, but Marion had to be supported by a boatman, until UncleJim, closely following, drew his arm through his, and so helped him tothe deck.
Not even Aunt Caroline realized what had happened, when Irma said shemust go to her room to change her wet shoes. This she did quickly, asshe wished to see all she could of the coast of beautiful St. Michael's.
"Tell me now," said Aunt Caroline, from the depths of her chair, "wasgoing ashore really worth while?"
"Yes, indeed, you shouldn't have missed it."
"Ah, well, I was there years ago, visiting cousins who lived there. Butthey are now dead, and everything would be so changed. I am told theyhave electric lights, not only in Ponta Delgada, but in the villagesnear by, and I don't suppose you met a single woman in the long capote,with its queer hood, nor even one man in a dark carpuccia."
"Why, yes," responded Irma, smiling, "I met them on some post cards, butnowhere else."
Irma hastened through her dinner that evening. Marion did not appear,but the old gentleman came to her, and placed himself in Aunt Caroline'svacant chair. He entered into a long conversation--or rather amonologue, since in answer to Irma's brief questions he did most of thetalking.
He told Irma how isolated the islanders were from one another, so thaton Corvo, and one or two of the others, if the crops fail, or there isany disaster, they signal for help by means of bonfires. Some of themhave mails to Portugal only once in two or three months. Ponta Delgadais much better off, with boats at least twice a month to Lisbon, andfairly good communication with other places. "But if I had time,"continued the old gentleman, "I could find nothing more healthful andpleasant than a cruise around these nine Western Islands."
"How large are they?" asked Irma abruptly.
"Well, they cover more water than land. St. Mary, St. Michael's nearestneighbor, is fifty miles away, and Terceira, the next neighbor, isninety miles off. But St. Michael's, the largest of them all, is onlythirty-seven miles long by nine broad, and Corvo, the smallest, youcould almost put in your pocket with its four and a half miles of lengthand three of breadth. But what they lack in size they make up inclimate."
"Then I don't see why the men are so ready to leave the islands."
"To make money, my child. If Portugal were better off, the islands wouldshare her prosperity. But they share the political troubles of themother country. Many farms produce barely enough for the tenants, whohave to deal with exacting landlords. But some of the large landowners,especially those who raise pineapples, grow rich. The oranges andbananas that they send to Lisbon, and their butter and cheese, too, makemoney for the producers. But the islands won't be really prosperousuntil they have more manufactures."
In his soliloquy, the old gentleman seemed to have forgotten Irma, andshe was on the point of calling his attention to the particularly highand rugged aspect of the coast they were then passing, when hecontinued, "St. Michael's, I believe, has made a good beginning withcarriages and furniture for its own use, and soap and potato alcohol forexport, and in time--but, my dear child, I am boring you to death----"
"Oh, no, but isn't the coast beautiful, with that veil of mist aroundthe tops of those mountains; what a pity it grows dark."
"What a pity it has grown so damp that I must order you in," said theold gentleman kindly, and though he was neither uncle nor aunt, and noreal authority, Irma found herself following him within, as she turnedher back to the Western Islands.
Irma in Italy: A Travel Story Page 2