CHAPTER XIII.
AT A MALLORQUIN FONDA.
Our preparations for that short sea trip were few and simple. Taltavullexchanged three small diamonds for cash, which enabled us to settleoutstanding accounts; Haigh procured a basket of bread, hard-boiledeggs, and vermouth bottles; I made two or three chandlery purchases,and gave the rigging a bit of an overhaul. It was in the gloaming whenwe got the anchor, and night when we stood out between the dismantledold fort and the obsolete new one at the harbour's mouth, and got intoopen water.
Wind was fresh at first, and the ugly cutter's stem hissed through thewater like red-hot iron; but as the moon rose into a steel-blue skyamongst bright white stars, the breeze dropped till it scarcely gave ussteerage-way. Haigh sat smoking at the tiller throughout the night;Taltavull and I patrolled the narrow decks, chatting. We none of usfelt inclined for sleep.
Dawn came with a flash of vivid green, the sulphur-coloured disc hardupon its heels. We were then off the south-western corner of Minorca,with the high ground on the northern parts of the sister islandstanding up clearly against the horizon. Even from that distance wecould make out with the glasses a watch-tower on the peninsula whichdivides Pollensa Bay from Alcudia. Up there the sentinels of thosenaked slingers who loved wine and women when the world was young hadpeered over the blue sea for a first sight of Roman or Carthaginianpirate galley.
"Happy times when those men lived," said the anarchist; "there were fewlaws to trouble them."
"Happy indeed," echoed Haigh, "for a boy with a taste for liquor andladies, and who thought unlimited head-breaking a pleasing diversion."
In the middle of the channel a steamer passed us on her way to Algiers.She was the _Eugene Perrier_, the very Transatlantique Company'sboat that had put us on our course again during that wild, tearing racefrom Genoa.
The fact was pointed out, and we looked her over again as one looks atan old friend who has rendered a big service.
"Bit of a change this day from that, isn't it?" said Haigh.
"About as big as they make 'em," I admitted.
"I'm not so sure that I care for it, though," said he. "It had itsstrong points that trip."
"Especially when it was over," I agreed. "Yes, it's fine to look backat."
"It has one or two memories that will stick. You trying to catch up theslits in the mainsail as fast as the wind slitted them, with theknowledge that we'd probably go to glory if you got behind; I shan'tforget that. And I think the face of that man we laughed at on the brigwill stick. Also one or two other items. But as you say, old chappie,it's nicest to look at from beyond."
The day flushed hotly as it wore on, and still the breeze kept light.We slid through the water slowly, leaving scarce a trace of wake behindus. Haigh smoked and drank vermouth; Taltavull busied himself belowwith dealing, on paper, with tremendous sums of money; I bathed atintervals, diving from the bowsprit end, and climbing aboard again bythe lee runner.
It was a lazy, dreamy passage that of ours across the channel, and mostenjoyable withal; but there was a strong lure dragging us on, and Ithink all of the ugly cutter's complement were unfeignedly glad whenshe opened up abeam both of the high headlands which bound Alcudia Bay.There is one lighthouse, on the northernmost cape, and we passedanother on an island about half-way in, both in mocking contrast to theold round sandstone tower which rears itself amongst the palmetto scrubabout a mile outside the _puerto_. What that old crumbling castlewas for it is difficult to see, for in the days when it was built therewas no known artillery which would throw a ball half-way across theshallow bay.
"The lazaretto," said Taltavull, pointing to a grim, gray fortressfarther along the shore, with high limestone walls, and lookout towersat the corners. "Heaven help the poor cholera-stricken wretches whosefate it is to be boxed up in that prison! It helps to show, however,what a rabid hatred the Mallorcans have of all manner of disease. ReadGeorge Sand's book about the island if you want to understand that. Shebrought Chopin here long ago, and wintered with him at the ValledemosaConvent, hoping to save him from consumption. The people in the villagethere are as hospitable as any in the world as a general thing, butthey ostracized these two because of their dread and loathing forsickness, and deliberately tried to starve them out."
"Brutes," said Haigh.
"I think," commented the anarchist, "that they'd a perfect right to actas they did. They chose to, and that was sufficient. That's my creed."
"Poor creed," said Haigh. "Cospatric, stand by with that mud-hook, andwe'll bring to by the schooner here. It's getting very shallow."
We brought up to an anchor, snugged down, and then hailed a boat andgot put ashore where the fishing craft were riding to their bowfasts,and discharging scaly rainbows on to the stone quay. The inevitableCarabinero gave us an examination, and then we made our way up from thelittle port village through beanfields and vineyards and oliveyards,past an old Roman amphitheatre on to the double-walled town.
Very Asiatic in appearance is Alcudia as one approaches it, with itsyellow and white houses, its domes, its crumbling amber walls, withragged date-palms scattered here and there, and dusty green clumps ofprickly pear scrawming about everywhere. But as a walled city its daysare done. The massive gateway with its pitting of Saracen round-shothas no guard. The two fosses are planted thickly with grotesquelygnarled olive-trees. The streets are clean and the houses are in goodrepair, but there is a lazy old-time air about the place that wouldclog the hurrying feet of even a sight-seeing American.
We fetched up at the _casa_ and had dinner, which commenced with adry soup of ochre-coloured rice. It was a curious meal all through, andacross the little well-yard we could watch the cooking done in earthenpipkins of various sizes, each over its own charcoal fire. Then we wentinto the _cafe_--an irregular room, with the roof partly supportedon arches, concrete floor, and heavy odour of rancid oil and Governmenttobacco--and sat on rush-bottomed chairs round a little deal table tosip our cognac and discuss on the next move.
"Now that we are coming to close quarters," said I, "it's beginning tobe borne in upon me that our proceedings are very lawless."
"Anarchistic, to say the least of it," observed Haigh.
"We are simply acting on the principle of the 'greatest good for thegreatest number,'" said Taltavull. "Pether is one; you are two, and Iflatter myself that I and my Cause make an important third; theinterests of the one must go under in favour of the interests of thethree."
"Which being interpreted," said I, "is, that if A has a watch, and B,C, and D are poor men with pistols, the watch of necessity changeshands. It may be natural enough from your point of view, but it'sdevilish like highway robbery from mine."
Taltavull shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. "I shall never convertyou, _amigo_," said he.
"I tell you what it is," said Haigh. "Senor Taltavul's conscience issatisfied, and so much the better for him. You and I, Cospatric, aretoo poor to afford the luxury of consciences. Pether, it seems, hasthis Recipe in the form of an undeveloped photographic negative.Perhaps he had no particular title to it in the first instance; butthen, on the other hand, nor had we. Correctly speaking, I suppose thething either belonged to the owner of the Talayot, or else, astreasure-trove, should revert to the crown. But on the gloriousprinciple of 'no catchee no havee,' I think we may leave these two lastout of consideration. Under ordinary circumstances, I should havebarred jumping on the chest of a man who is afflicted with blindness;but as this particular individual has seen fit to humbug me to the topof his bent, I shall waive that scruple. Senor Taltavull, I'm with youin this to anything short of justifiable manslaughter. AndCospatric----"
"Won't pin himself, in spite of that scrawled insult of_Hereingefallen_," I cut in. "So that's how we all stand. And noweasy with the debate, for if I'm not a lot out in my reckoning, there'sa pair of cars coming in through the glass door yonder that understandEnglish."
We stood up and bowed, foreign fashion, as the newcomer seated herselfat a table near us, and she had
soon drawn Haigh and the anarchist intoconversation. She had just purchased a Majolica bowl, under repeatedassurance that it was a piece of the genuine old lustre-ware. My twocompanions (as I learnt with surprise) were enthusiasts and experts onthe subject, and they both assured her that the specimen she hadprocured was undoubtedly spurious. It seems there is a factory atValencia where the bogus stuff is made, and a large trade is done in itwith the curio-collectors. And, moreover, every house on the island hasbeen searched by local pottery-fanatics, and every scrap of theauthentic lustre-ware stored in their salons or museums. Afterwards,they went on to the vexed topic as to whether the ware had ever beenmanufactured in the island at all. Haigh was of opinion that it hadbeen made in Valencia, and carted over to Italy in Mallorcan craft,which were in the Middle Ages great carriers in the Mediterranean. Thiswould easily account for the name Majolica. Taltavull held that it wasa genuine product of the island, though he was bound to admit that noremains of manufacturing potteries had as yet been discovered. And sothey went at it hammer and tongs, deduction and counter-deduction,proof and counter-proof; and the owner of that glittering mauve-markedbowl which had started the discussion threw in a well-considered wordhere and there to keep the argument well alive.
Women are not in my way to talk to, but I sat in the backgroundwatching this clever stirrer-up of conversation for want of anythingbetter to do. She was a woman with dark hair, just tinged with gray,with features that would have been pleasant enough if they had not beena trifle over-hard. She was neatly but not showily dressed, and wore alittle jewellery of a ten-years-back fashion. She retained her hat andjacket, and one got the idea that she habitually wore them, except inbed.
In fact, she was one of that cohort of masterless women who are socopiously spread over the Continent. You find them from Trondjhem toAthens, from Nishni to Cadiz, seldom far from the beaten track, neverunder breeched escort. They speak three popular languages fluently, andusually know some out-of-the-way tongue such as Gaelic or Albanian or aCzech patois. This one seemed quite at home with Mallorquin. Theygenerally display the bare left third finger of the maiden; but evenwhen that critical digit is gold-fettered, you are not always satisfiedthat they have ever called man husband. They always carry guide-books,note tablets, patent medicines, and hand-satchel. They are veryreticent about their own affairs, and correspondingly curious aboutyours. And finally, if one may hazard a generalizing guess, they mostlyseem to hail either from the New England States or the south ofScotland.
Probably because I showed no desire to cultivate her acquaintance, shebegan to throw out stray questions for my answering, not about thecream and mauve lustre-ware--about which I knew nothing--but on otherpoints.
"It's a strange thing," said she, "how nations like the Spanish whichhave beautiful languages are always cursed with harsh voices to speakthem with. I wonder if the converse holds true?" So I had to mentionNorsk and Norwegians.
And, again: "All the peasantry in Mallorca seem to know one tune andone only, in a minor key, with a compass of three whole tones. It isnot unmusical, but, like the _sereno's_ chant, it is hard tocatch." As I happened to know the air, the least I could do was to dotit down in her note-book when she asked me to. The book flew open asshe passed it across the deal table-top, and showed the name "HortensiaMary Cromwell" written on the flyleaf.
And then she found out that we had come across from Port Mahon in ayacht, and discovered besides that I was a sailor and vagabond bytrade, and fairly drew me. To an appreciative listener I can alwaystalk about the sea, and the sights of the sea, and the smells of thesea, and what those men do who make their livelihood by journeyingacross the big waters. And as this Cromwell woman spoke backintelligently about these matters, I liked her, and sat there talkingwhen the others went out to make a call. Nor did the experience wearyme, for when they returned after midnight, we were sitting_vis-a-vis_, with our feet on the edge of the _brazero_,talking still.
There was no nonsense about her. She was a salted traveller, and hadseen and done many things, and we had a score of tastes and sympathiesin common. It isn't often I'd give two sous to speak to any woman asecond time; but I liked her, and said, when she went upstairs, that Ihoped we'd meet again, meaning what I said.
Taltavull's lean face was gloomy and threatening that evening. He toldme that his correspondent in Palma had been arrested.
"The poor man's only crime was that of spreading our propaganda," saidhe, "and his only real enemies were the swarming priests. He naturallyspurned their warnings with contempt, as every true anarchist must do,and continued sowing the good seed amongst his Roman Catholicneighbours. And so the Bishop went to the Captain-General, and ourCause was given another martyr."
"Sad," said Haigh, "isn't it?"
"I shall write them a fair warning," continued Taltavull, with a frown,"and if the poor fellow is not instantly released I shall give ordersto blow up the Cathedral, the _Lonja_, and the Moorish palacewhere the Captain-General resides. I do not think that they will pressmatters to extremes after that. The Cathedral is one of the finestspecimens of Gothic ecclesiastical architecture extant in the Spanishdominions; the Exchange is certainly the finest piece of Gothic secularwork in the world; and the old Saracen palace is a thing thesemiserable _bourgeois_ set immense store upon. It would be atremendous blow to take them away, but if they press me I shall notspare the lesson. I've already wired our head office in Barcelona for aconsignment of dynamite."
"I wish you hadn't such confoundedly destructive notions, old chappie,"said Haigh. "It's the one drawback to you as a companion. Good-night,and give me a day's warning when you're going to blow anythingup!--Good-night, Cospatric--or, rather, good-morning."