The Crimson Gardenia and Other Tales of Adventure
stolen swiftly out and past him, so close that he could hear the scuff
of her sandals on the beaten path. The next instant he had glided from
cover and fallen in behind, his pulses leaping, his long, lithe muscles
rippling; but he moved as silently as a shadow.
Had he been a less accomplished bushman he might have lost her, for she
plunged into the jungle unhesitatingly. However, he had long ago learned
these trails by daylight, and knew them better than the lines of his own
palm; hence, every moonlit turn, every flash of her white slip, found
him close upon her track.
It puzzled him at first to discover her reason for this unexpected
sally, but soon he decided she must be bent upon some mission. Then,
when he saw that she purposely avoided the village and was bending
toward the open palm-grove abreast of his anchorage, he knew she must be
going to a tryst. So Markeeña was the sentinel! That fellow in the
mahogany _cayuca_ was her lover! Inocencio, the dissolute, felt a flame
of rage suffuse him. When, at last, his quarry emerged into the
mysterious half-light under the high roof of palms, and paused, he
strode after her. She gave the melancholy call of the night-bird that
had sounded in the breadfruit-tree over his head earlier in the evening;
then, seeing him close beside her, uttered a little cry of pleasure. Not
until he was too near for flight did she discover her mistake, and then
she seemed to freeze. Her utter silence was more menacing than a scream.
It was the instant for which he had schooled himself, so he spoke to her
in her own tongue.
"Make no outcry! I will not harm you."
She drew back, at which he laid his great, bony hand upon her, his eyes
blazing. She was deathly frightened, being little more than a child.
"I have waited for you many nights," he explained. "I feared you
would never come." Then, as she continued to stare up at him
uncomprehendingly, he ran on: "I am Inocencio, the trader. Every night
I have watched you at your work. I want you for my woman."
Her voice had forsaken her utterly, but she struggled weakly, so he
tightened his grip until his fingers sank into her flesh. She began to
gasp as if from a swift run; the open neck of her garment slipped down
over one shoulder; her eyes were distended until he saw them ringed
about with white. The terror of this tall yellow man with the hungry
eyes robbed her of power, and she let him drag her toward the lapping
water as if she were no more than some weak, wild thing that he had
trapped.
Of course she knew him, for, while the San Blas law may banish women, it
cannot blind them, and she, too, had studied him from concealment.
Although his words had made no impression whatever upon her, his grasp
and the direction he was drawing her had at last translated what was in
his mind. Then she burst into life. But she made no outcry, for it takes
strength to scream, and every atom of her force was directed against
his. She began to moan. Her every muscle writhed. With her free hand she
tore at his entwining fingers, but they were like jungle creepers that
no human strength could serve to loosen. And all the time he drew her
with him, speaking softly.
Then she felt him pause, and her distracted vision beheld another figure
entering the shadows from the shore. She called to her lover hoarsely,
and saw him halt at the strange note, peering inward for a sight of her.
She voiced words now for the first time, crying:
"The stranger! The stranger!"
Then, hearing the scrape of her captor's machete as he drew it from its
scabbard, she renewed her struggle more fiercely.
Captain Inocencio held the girl at his left side until the last moment,
balancing the great knife-blade as if to try his arm; then, when the
Indian was close upon him, coming straight as a dart, he freed himself.
A slanting moonbeam showed Markeeña's ferocious visage and his upraised
weapon, but the Haytian met the falling blow with a fierce upward stroke
that once before had done him service. It was the stroke that had made
him an exile years before.
Inocencio's physical strength had ever been his pride, if also his
undoing. Above all things, he prided himself upon the dexterity and
vigor of his wrist. His early training on that blood-red Caribbean isle,
and a later life in thicket and swamp, had served to transform the
cumbrous native weapon into a thing of life at his hands. More than
once, for instance, he had harried a serpent until it struck, for the
mere satisfaction of severing its head in midcourse, and now he felt the
wide blade enter flesh. Before his antagonist could cry out twice he had
slashed again, this time downward as if to split a green cocoanut. The
next instant he had seized the girl as she fled into the jungle.
But she had found her voice at last, and he was forced to muffle her
with his palm. When they were out into the moonlight, however, with the
dry sand up to their ankles, he let her breathe; then, pointing with his
machete to the _Espirita_ lying white and ghostlike in the offing, he
drove her down into the warm sea until it reached her waist.
"Swim!" he ordered, and, when she would have renewed the alarm, he
raised his blade, grimly threatening to call the sharks with her blood.
"Swim!" he repeated, and she struck out, with him at her shoulder.
But the village was roused. A confused clamor betrayed its bewilderment,
and before the swimmers had won more than half-way to the schooner,
figures came running along the shore. Inocencio cautioned the girl to
hold her tongue, and she obeyed, thoroughly cowed by his roughness. She
turned upon her side and swam with her face close to his, her eyes fixed
upon him curiously, wonderingly. Her easy progress through the water
showed that her fright had largely vanished, and showed likewise that,
had the Haytian been no uncommon swimmer himself, she might have
distanced him. All the way out to the boat she stared at him with that
same fixed look, maintaining her position at his side. The moon and the
salt brine in his eyes played him tricks, else he might have fancied her
to be half smiling, as if in some strange exaltation akin to his own.
Not until he finally dragged her, panting, to the deck of the
_Espirita_, and her white-clad figure stood out clearly from the shore,
did her tribesmen realize the nature of the alarm. Then the vibrant
turmoil suddenly stilled for the space of a full minute while the
enormity of the outrage made itself felt. They drew together at the edge
of the sea, staring open-mouthed, amazed, before they raised their
blood-cry.
The man and woman rested a moment, their eyes upon the shore, and where
they stood twin pools of water blackened the deck. Then Inocencio turned
to look upon his prey. The girl's flimsy cotton shift was molded to her
figure, and he saw that she was even fairer than he had pictured. In
spite of his need for haste, he paused to gloat upon the favor the moon
and the salt sea had rendered him. As for her, she flung his glance back
bravely until he wrenched open the cabin hatch and pointed to the dark
interior. Then she weakened. But she had a will of her own, it seemed,
for she refused to be locked inside. He strode toward her, and she
clutched the rigging desperately, turning her glance to one of appeal.
"You may come up in a moment," he translated, but still she clung to the
stay. "If you try to escape--" He scowled upon her terribly, at which
she shook her head. Having already tasted her strength, he knew there
was no time to force her, so he leaped at his crew.
The three blacks were snoring forward of the deck-house, so he seized a
bucket of water at the rail and sluiced them into wakefulness, keeping
his eye upon the girl meanwhile. When he saw that in truth she made no
move he let his caution slip and raged over the ship like a tiger,
beating his half-clad crew ahead of him with the flat of his machete. By
the time they had gained their wits the tribesmen were massing at the
canoes. As the mainsail rose creaking he broke out the jib with his own
hand, then with one stroke of his knife severed the manila mooring-rope,
and the _Espirita_ fell off slowly ahead of the breeze. Inocencio ran
back to spur his befuddled "niggers" to further activity, only to find
the girl still motionless, her eyes following his every movement. Under
the curses, the schooner slowly raised her wings and the night wind
began to strain at the cordage.
But at last, when the Jamaicans were fully awake to the state of
affairs, they threatened mutiny, whereat the mulatto flung himself upon
them so savagely that they scattered to arm themselves with whatever
weapons lay at hand. Then they huddled amidship, rolling their eyes and
praying; for out from the shore came a long mahogany _cayuca_, and it
was full of straight-haired men.
It takes a sailing-craft some time to gain its momentum, and as yet the
full strength of the trades had not struck the _Espirita_; hence the
canoe overtook her rapidly. Inocencio called to one of his men and gave
him the tiller, then took stand beside the girl, the naked blade of his
weapon once more beneath his arm.
The schooner's helmsman gave himself to God, while the cordage overhead
began to whine as the deck rose. It was upon the Haytian's lips to warn
his pursuers off when one of them called to the girl, bidding her leap.
Inocencio heard the breath catch in her throat, but she made no move,
and the command was repeated.
This time she answered by some exclamation that he did not understand,
whereat the canoemen ceased paddling, as if her word had paralyzed them.
They hurled their voices at her savagely, but she remained motionless,
the while the waters beneath her began to foam and bubble. The
_Espirita's_ crew ceased their prayers, and in the silence that ensued
the sea whispered at the bow as the craft listed more heavily under the
full force of the wind.
Inocencio could not fathom the meaning of the subdued colloquy among the
San Blas men, so he shouted a warning, but, strangely enough, they made
no answer. They only crouched, with paddles motionless, staring at the
dimming figures facing them, until the _Espirita_, "wing and wing" ahead
of the trades, was no larger than a seagull. As yet they had not learned
of the other tragedy hidden in the shadow of the palms; had they
suspected what lay weltering at the edge of a trampled moonlit glade
behind them, no threat of Inocencio's, no plea of his new-found woman,
could have held them back.
Once the schooner was under way, the Haytian led the girl to the
deck-house and thrust her roughly inside, closing the hatch. Then with
his own hands he took his craft through the reef and out into the
leaping Caribbean. Not until the San Blas coast was a mere charcoal line
upon the port quarter and the salt spray was driving high did he deliver
over the helm. At last, however, he gave his crew instructions for the
night and went below, closing and bolting the hatch behind him. When the
smoky lamp that swung between the bunks was lit and its yellow gleam had
illumined the interior he saw the girl's eyes fast upon him. He went
toward her across the tilting floor and she arose to meet him, smiling.
II
Señor Bill Williams was in a fine rage. "Didn't you like your job?" he
questioned.
Inocencio shrugged languidly. "Oh yes! The job was good."
"You knew I'd fire you!"
"_Si!_"
The American tempered his indignant glare with a hint of curiosity. "You
must love that San Blas girl."
"What do you say?"
"You must love her--better than your job at least?"
"_Si_, señor. I suppose so."
"What is she like, Inocencio?"
"Well, she is just like other women. All women are alike--only some are
fat. One time I had a female from Martinique, and she acted just the