British -- Cuba -- Fiction; Cuba -- History -- Revolution, 1895-1898 -- Fiction
Appleby nodded, and saw that Harding was fumbling at the wallet. “No,”
he said. “I would not like you to spoil the acquaintance I am rather
proud of, sir.”
Harding’s face was flushed as he grasped his hand. “Well,” he said, “I
guess the bills aren’t printed that could pay you for what you have done
for me. Can’t you say something that’s appropriate, Nettie?”
“No,” said the girl quietly, though there was a faint gleam in her eyes.
“That contract is too big for me. Still, I hope you did not lose many
opportunities, Mr. Broughton, through taking care of me.”
Appleby turned to Harding hastily. “I hope you did not have any trouble
with our men?”
“No,” said Harding. “It was some time before I saw them. A mob of
citizens swept me away, and when I got clear of them one of Morales’
officers came up mounted with a few men. He went off at a gallop, but
shouted to a sergeant to take care of me, and the fool did it too
efficiently. He was from Mallorca, and couldn’t understand my Spanish,
but dragged me along with him. It was an hour before I could get away,
and I spent the rest of the night running up and down the town until
some of your comrades found me.”
Appleby nodded. “My friend here will take a few files and go with you to
your hotel,” he said. “Our men will have loaded themselves with all they
can carry, and are scarcely likely to trouble you now. We leave at
sunrise.”
Harding stood silent for a moment or two, and then said slowly, “Can’t
you find anything better than this to do?”
“The Sin Verguenza took me in, and treated me tolerably well,” said
Appleby. “I feel bound to stay with them until they have made their
footing good, anyway.”
Harper nodded. “When you feel that you can leave them come to me,” he
said. “I don’t want to lose sight of you.”
He shook hands again, and went away with Harper and the girl; but it was
scarcely two hours later when his daughter and he stood upon the flat
roof of the “Four Nations,” while a long line of men with rifles, who
were no longer ragged, marched out of Santa Marta. One who marched with
the second company looked up and waved his hand to them.
“That,” said Harding gravely, “is a straight man, and he will do
something by and by when he has an opportunity. It is not going to be my
fault if he doesn’t get one.”
IX — THE BREAKING OF THE NET
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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