The Cruise of the Thetis: A Tale of the Cuban InsurrectionCollingwood, Harry
History
The Cruise of the Thetis: A Tale of the Cuban Insurrection
Collingwood, Harry
Cuba -- History -- 1810-1899 -- Juvenile fiction; Sea stories
It was nearly five o'clock in the evening when Alvaros, hot, tired, and
dusty from his long ride from Pinar del Rio and his previous journey by
train, drew rein and dismounted before the broad flight of steps leading
up to the gallery which ran round the house, and, handing over his horse
to an obsequious negro who was in waiting, proceeded to ascend the
steps, his brow wrinkled into a frown of displeasure at Calderon's
failure to be present to give him a suitably respectful greeting upon
his arrival. He reached the top of the steps, paused for a moment to
glance around him at the wide prospect visible from the commanding
elevation of the gallery, and then strode forward to enter the house,
the wide folding doors of which stood, as usual, invitingly open. But
as he did so, and ere his foot reached the threshold, he was confronted
by Carlos, who, emerging suddenly from the obscurity of the entrance
hall, levelled a revolver straight at the Spaniard's right eye, so that
before that individual could recover from his astonishment, he found
himself gazing into the grooved barrel.
"Hands up, you villain and murderer!" exclaimed the young Cuban, glaring
savagely along the sights of the levelled weapon into Senor Alvaros'
eye: "hands up; or I will blow your worthless brains out with as little
compunction as that with which I would crush a venomous snake beneath my
heel! Quick! Don't hesitate, or I fire!"
Alvaros did not hesitate; there was that in the expression of Carlos'
eye, and in the yearning curl of his finger round the trigger, which
told the Spaniard that the least sign of hesitation would be fatal; and,
with the fear of death upon him, he instantly halted and flung up his
hands. Had he only known to what that was the prelude he would probably
have kept them down and marched on to his death!
Then, from behind Carlos, Jack appeared, with a whistle in his hand,
which he raised to his lips, and upon which he blew a shrill blast. At
the sound a number of negroes appeared, one of them bearing a long coil
of raw-hide rope, with a noose at one end of it, in his hand. This rope
Jack took from the hands of the negro and, dropping the noose over
Alvaros' head, drew it fairly tight, and then handed the rest of the
rope back to the black.
"Senor," exclaimed the quaking Spaniard, with quivering lips, "are you
about to murder me?"
"Not just yet," answered Jack cheerfully. "What we may eventually do I
will not pretend to say, because, you see, such vermin as you are not
fit to live; but at present we are only going to give you the second
instalment--I gave you the first, you will remember"--pointing to the
officer's still stiff elbow--"of the punishment due to you for your
infamous treatment of Don Hermoso and his family."
The fellow was by this time white as a corpse, and his lips were
tremulous with terror, yet he strove to carry things off with a high
hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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