Latin America -- Fiction; Political fiction; Revolutions -- Fiction; Sailors -- Fiction; Sea stories
had stopped, a series of hard, battering shocks, mingled with the
clanking of chain-couplings, made a tumult of blows and shaken fetters
under the vault of the gate.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Gould carriage was the first to return from the harbour to the empty
town. On the ancient pavement, laid out in patterns, sunk into ruts and
holes, the portly Ignacio, mindful of the springs of the Parisian-built
landau, had pulled up to a walk, and Decoud in his corner contemplated
moodily the inner aspect of the gate. The squat turreted sides held up
between them a mass of masonry with bunches of grass growing at the top,
and a grey, heavily scrolled, armorial shield of stone above the apex of
the arch with the arms of Spain nearly smoothed out as if in readiness
for some new device typical of the impending progress.
The explosive noise of the railway trucks seemed to augment Decoud’s
irritation. He muttered something to himself, then began to talk aloud
in curt, angry phrases thrown at the silence of the two women. They did
not look at him at all; while Don Jose, with his semi-translucent, waxy
complexion, overshadowed by the soft grey hat, swayed a little to the
jolts of the carriage by the side of Mrs. Gould.
“This sound puts a new edge on a very old truth.”
Decoud spoke in French, perhaps because of Ignacio on the box above him;
the old coachman, with his broad back filling a short, silver-braided
jacket, had a big pair of ears, whose thick rims stood well away from
his cropped head.
“Yes, the noise outside the city wall is new, but the principle is old.”
He ruminated his discontent for a while, then began afresh with a
sidelong glance at Antonia--
“No, but just imagine our forefathers in morions and corselets drawn
up outside this gate, and a band of adventurers just landed from their
ships in the harbour there. Thieves, of course. Speculators, too. Their
expeditions, each one, were the speculations of grave and reverend
persons in England. That is history, as that absurd sailor Mitchell is
always saying.”
“Mitchell’s arrangements for the embarkation of the troops were
excellent!” exclaimed Don Jose.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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