The Crimson Gardenia and Other Tales of Adventure
promised, he shipped. Followed adventures of many sorts, during which
Inocencio became a mate, but made no friends.
One night when the moon was full and the schooner lay becalmed there was
drinking and gambling in the little cabin. It was the change of the
seasons, before the rains had come; the air was close; the ship reeked
with odors. Inocencio played like a demon, for his heart was fierce, and
the cards befriended him. All night he and the Portuguese half-breed
shuffled and dealt, drank rum, and cursed each other. When daylight came
the schooner had changed hands.
* * * * *
Colon sits on the southern shore of the Caribbean, and through it drifts
a current of traffic from many seas. It is like the riffle of a sluice
or the catch-basin of a sewer, gathering all the sediment carried by the
stream, and thither Captain Inocencio headed, drawn on the tide. It was
at the time of the French fiasco, when De Lesseps's name was powerful,
and when Colon was the wickedest, sickest city of the Western
Hemisphere.
Into the harbor came Inocencio's schooner, pelting ahead of the stiff
trade-winds that blew like the draught from an electric fan, and there
the Haytian stayed, for in Colon he found work that suited him. There he
heard the echo of tremendous undertakings; there he learned new
rascalities, and met men from other lands who were homeless, like
himself; there he tasted of the white man's wickedness, and beheld forms
of corruption that were strange to him. The nights were ribald and the
days were drear, for fever stalked the streets, but Inocencio was
immune, and for the first time he enjoyed himself.
But he was solitary in his habits; the festering town, with its
green-slimed sewers and its filthy streets, did not appeal to him, so he
took up his abode on the shore of a little bay close behind, where a
grove of palm-trees overhung a sandy beach. Just across a mangrove swamp
at his back was the city; before him lay his schooner, her bowsprit
pointing seaward. Day and night it pointed seaward, like a resolute
finger; pointed toward Hayti and--Pierrine.
In time the mulatto acquired a reputation and gathered a crew of
ruffians over whom he tyrannized. There were women in his camp, too,
'Bajans, Sant' Lucians, and wenches from the other isles, but neither
they nor their powdered sisters along the back streets of Colon appealed
to Inocencio very long, for sooner or later there always came to him the
memory of a yellow girl with a scar beneath her eye, and thoughts of her
brought pictures of a blue-and-gold negro colonel and an old man hanging
by the wrists. Then it was that he felt a slow flame licking at his
tendons, and his hatred blazed up so suddenly that the women fled from
him, bearing marks of his fingers on their flesh.
Sometimes he sailed away and was gone for weeks. When he returned his
crew told stories of aimless visits to the Haytian coast in which there
appeared to be neither reason nor profit, since they neither took nor
fetched a cargo. These journeys came at regular intervals, as if there
arrived upon the hurrying trades a call that took him northward, just
before the seasons changed.
His helpers retailed other gossip also, rumors of a coming revolution in
the Republic, tales of the great general, Petithomme Laguerre, who had
aims upon the Presidency. Inocencio's ears were open, and what he heard
stirred his rage, but he was not a brilliant man, and his brain, unused
to strategy, refused to counsel him. For five years he had studied the
matter incessantly, nursing his hate and searching for a means to
satisfy it. Then, as if born of the lightning, he saw his way.
He consulted a French clerk in the Canal offices, and between them they
contrived a letter which ran as follows:
To His Excellency, General Petithomme Laguerre, Commandant of the
Arrondissement of the South, Jacmel, Republic of Hayti.
GENERAL,--The bearer, Inocencio Ruiz, of Cartagena, master of the
schooner _Stella_, will consult you upon a matter of extreme
delicacy which concerns the sale of two hundred rifles. These arms,
of latest model, were consigned to this port, but under the
existing relations of amity between the French and Colombian
governments they cannot be used. Knowing your patriotism and the
zeal with which you safeguard the welfare of your country, the
writer makes bold to offer these arms to you, as agent of the
Haytian government, at a low figure. Captain Ruiz, a man of
discretion, is empowered to discuss the matter with you at greater
length.
In full appreciation of your supreme qualities as a soldier and
statesman, it is with admiration that I salute you.
Respectfully,
ANTOINE LEBLANC.
When the letter was finally read to Inocencio he nodded; but the French
clerk said, doubtfully:
"This Laguerre is a man of force, I believe. I should not care to trifle
with him in this way."
"I, too, am a man of force," said the mulatto.
"He is your enemy?"
"To the death."
The white man shook his head. "Danger lurks along the Haytian coast;
many things happen there, for the people are barbarians. I should prefer
to forgive this Petithomme rather than oppose him, even though he were
my enemy."
Inocencio scowled. "When I die I shall have no enemies to forgive, for I
shall have killed them all," he said, simply.
* * * * *
Jacmel lay white in the blazing sun as the _Stella_ dropped anchor. The
trades were failing, and the schooner drifted slowly under a full spread
of canvas. Near where she came to rest lay a Haytian gunboat,
ill-painted, ill-manned, ill-disciplined, and Inocencio regarded her
with some concern, for her presence was a thing he had not counted upon.
It argued either that Laguerre had won the support of her commander or
that she had been sent by the government as a check upon his activities.
In either event she was a menace.
A band was playing in the square, and there were many soldiers.
Inocencio did not go ashore. Instead he sent the letter by a member of
his crew, a giant 'Bajan whom he trusted, and with it he sent word that
he hoped to meet His Excellency, General Laguerre, that evening at a
certain drinking-place near the water-front.
The sailor returned at dusk with news that set his captain's eyes aglow.
Jacmel was alive with troops; there had been a review that very
afternoon and the populace had hailed the commandant as President. On
all sides there was talk of revolution; the whole south country had
enrolled beneath the banner of revolt. The gunboat was Laguerre's; all
Hayti craved a change; the old familiar race cry had been raised and the
mulattoes were in terror of another massacre. But the regular troops
were badly armed and the perusal of Inocencio's letter had filled the
general with joy.
Captain Ruiz was early at the meeting-place, but he waited patiently,
drinking rum and listening to the chatter of the street. His Spanish
accent, his identity as the master of the schooner in the offing, and,
above all, his threatening eyes, won him a tolerance which the warlike
blacks did not accord to Haytians of his color; therefore he was not
molested. He soon confirmed his sailor's story; revolution was indeed in
the air; the country was seething with unrest. Many houses already had
been burned--sure token of an uprising. The soldiers had had a taste of
pillage and persecution. The streets were thronged with them now;
merchants were on guard before their shops; from every side came the
sounds of revelry and quarreling.
Laguerre arrived, finally, a huge, forbidding man of martial bearing,
and he was heralded by cheers. He was much older and infinitely prouder
than when Inocencio had seen him. His uniform had been blue at that
time, but now it was parrot-green; his epaulettes were broader, the
golden braid and dangling loops were heavier, and he was fat from easy
living. With age and power he had coarsened, but his eyes were still
bloodshot and domineering.
"Captain Ruiz?" he inquired, pausing before the yellow man.
"Your Excellency!" Inocencio rose and saluted. The seaman's eyes were
smoldering, but his lips were cold, for he felt the dread of
recognition.
Time, it seemed, had dulled the sharp outlines of Laguerre's memory as
it had changed the younger man's features, for he continued,
unsuspectingly:
"You are the agent of Monsieur Leblanc, I believe."
"The same."
"Good! Now these rifles--you have them near by?"
"Within gunshot, Excellency. They are in the harbor at this moment."
Laguerre's face lighted. "Ha! A man of business, this Leblanc. You will
fix the price, as I understand it."
There followed a certain amount of bickering, during which the general
allowed himself to be worsted. He agreed weakly to Inocencio's terms,
having already decided to appropriate the God-sent cargo without
payment. The latter had counted upon this, and, moreover, he had
rightfully construed the light in those bloodshot eyes.
"Monsieur le Général must see these rifles for himself, to appreciate
them, and he must count them, too, else how can he know that I am not
deceiving him? We must observe caution, for there may be spies--"
Inocencio spoke craftily.
"Pah! Spies? In Jacmel?"
"Nevertheless, there is a gunboat in the harbor and she flies the flag
of the Republic. My skiff is waiting; we will slip out and back
again--in an hour the inspection will be completed. You must see those
rifles with your own eyes, Excellency. They are wonderful--the equal of
any in the world; no troops can stand before them. They are
magnificent."
"Come!" said Laguerre, rising.
"But alone!" Inocencio displayed a worthy circumspection. "This is
hazardous business. That war-ship with the flag of the Republic--my
employer is a man of reputation."
"Very well." Laguerre dismissed an aide who had remained at a distance
during the interview, and together the two set out.
"You arrived barely in time, for we march to-morrow," said the general;
"at least we march within the week. My defiance has gone forth. My
country cries for her defender. There will be bloody doings, for I tell
you the temper of the people is roused and they have no stomach for that
tyrant at Port au Prince."
"Bloody doings!" Inocencio smiled admiringly upon his companion. "And
who could cope with them better than yourself? You have a reputation,
Excellency. The name of Petithomme Laguerre is known, even in my
country."
"Indeed!" The black general's chest swelled.
"We have heroes of our own--men who have bathed in blood defending our
rights--but our soldiers are only soldiers, they are not statesmen. We
are not so fortunate as Hayti. We would welcome, we would idolize such a
one. Would that we had him; would that we boasted a--Petithomme
Laguerre."
The hearer was immensely gratified at this flattery and he straightened
himself pompously, saying:
"But we are favored by God, we Haytians, and we have bred a race of
giants. We have gained our proud position among the nations at the price
of blood. Believe me, we are not ordinary men. Our soldiers are braver
than lions, our armies are the admiration of the world, we have reached
that level for which God created us. It requires strong hands to guide
such a people. My country calls. I am her servant."
The moon was round and brilliant as they walked out upon the rotting
wharf--all wharves in Hayti are decayed--the night had grown still, and
through it came the gentle whisper of the tide, mingled with the babel
from the town. Land odors combined with the pungent stench of the harbor
in a scent which caused Inocencio's nostrils to quiver and memory to