Текст книги "Сердца трёх / Hearts of three"

Джек Лондон / Jack London
Сердца трёх / Hearts of Three

Адаптация текста, комментарии и словарь С. А. Матвеева

© Матвеев С. А., адаптация текста, комментарии, словарь, 2018

© ООО «Издательство АСТ», 2018

Chapter I

Events happened very rapidly with Francis Morgan,[1]1
  Francis Morgan – Френсис Морган


[Закрыть] inheritor of many millions, that late spring morning.

“Parker,[2]2
  Parker – Паркер


[Закрыть]” he said to the valet who had been his father’s before him. “Parker, I’m going fishing.”

“Yes, sir!”

“I ordered some rods. Please joint them. Two weeks in the woods is what I need. You remember Sir Henry?[3]3
  Sir Henry – сэр Генри


[Закрыть] The old Sir Henry, the buccaneer?”

“Yes, sir; I’ve read of him, sir.”

Parker had paused in the doorway.

“Nothing to be proud of, the old pirate.”

“Oh, no, sir,” Parker protested. “He was Governor of Jamaica.[4]4
  Governor of Jamaica – губернатор на Ямайке


[Закрыть] He was a respectable man.”

“Hm, we Morgans never found his treasure.”

A telephone buzzed. “One moment, sir,” said Parker. “It’s Mr. Bascom,[5]5
  Mr. Bascom – мистер Бэском


[Закрыть] sir.”

Francis went to the phone.

“Hello, yes, this is I, Morgan. What is it?… To sell? Nothing of the sort… Of course, I’m glad to know. Nonsense. If it goes down five points,[6]6
  if it goes down five points – если акции упадут на пять пунктов


[Закрыть] buy. Buy all that’s offered. Sure… yes. Good-bye.”

* * *

And while Francis returned delightedly to his arm-chair, Thomas Regan[7]7
  Thomas Regan – Томас Риган


[Закрыть] in his down-town private office arranged his various brokers to buy. Suddenly a clerk told him about a foreign visitor. Regan listened, glanced at the card, and said:

“Tell this Senor Alvarez Torres[8]8
  Senor Alvarez Torres – сеньор Альварес Торрес


[Закрыть] that I can’t see him.”

Five minutes later the clerk was back, this time with a message. Regan read it:

“Dear Mr. Regan,

“Honoured Sir:

“I have the honour to inform you that I know the location of the treasure Sir Henry Morgan buried in old pirate days.

“Alvarez Torres.”

Regan shook his head.

“Let him in![9]9
  Let him in! – Пусть войдёт!


[Закрыть] At once.”

Senor Alvarez Torres’ English was perfect, though his skin advertised his Latin-American origin.[10]10
  Latin-American origin – латиноамериканское происхождение


[Закрыть]

“By great effort, and years of research, I have finally won to the clue to the buccaneer gold of Sir Henry Morgan,” he began. “Of course it’s on the Mosquito Coast.[11]11
  Mosquito Coast – Москитовый Берег


[Закрыть] The nearest town is Bocas del Toro.[12]12
  Bocas del Toro – Бокас-дель-Торо


[Закрыть] I was born there, and I know the neighbourhood like a book. A small schooner is cheap, very cheap; but the reward is the treasure!”

Senor Torres paused in eloquent inability to describe more definitely.

“And sir,” Senor Torres continued, “I am somewhat embarrassed for immediate funds.”

“You need the money,” the stock operator assured him brutally, and he bowed.

Regan wrote a check, in the name of Alvarez Torres, and when that gentleman glanced at it he read the figures of a thousand dollars.

“Now here’s the idea,” said Regan. “I don’t believe a word in your story. But I have a young friend, and he is too tired to live in a big town, you understand?”

Senor Alvarez Torres bowed.

“Now, for the good of his health, as well as his wealth and the saving of his soul, the best thing that could happen to him is a trip after treasure, adventure, exercise, and… you readily understand, I am sure.”

Again Alvarez Torres bowed.

“You need the money,” Regan continued. “Try to interest him. That thousand is for your effort. If he departs after old Morgan’s gold, two thousand more is yours. If he remains away three months, two thousand more; six months – five thousand. Oh, believe me, I knew his father. We were comrades, partners, I might say, almost brothers. I can sacrifice any sum to his son. What do you say? The thousand is yours to begin with. Well?”

With trembling fingers Senor Alvarez Torres folded and unfolded the check.

“I… I accept,” he stammered and faltered in his eagerness. “I… I… How shall I say?… I am yours. Mr. Regan, it is true. I need the money. You are so generous, and I shall do my best…”

Senor Torres went away. In some minutes Francis Morgan came in.

“I have come for a bit of counsel,” he said, greetings over.[13]13
  greetings over – после обмена приветствиями


[Закрыть] “And to whom but you should I apply, who was a friend of my father? You and he were partners, I understand, on some of the biggest deals. He always told me to trust your judgment. And, well, here I am. What’s up with Tampico Petroleum?[14]14
  Tampico Petroleum – «Тэмпико Петролеум»


[Закрыть]”

“Tampico Petroleum is up two points,[15]15
  Tampico Petroleum is up two points – акции «Тэмпико Петролеум» поднялись на два пункта


[Закрыть]” Regan said.

“That’s what I say,” Francis answered. “I worry. Don’t you think somebody is trying to get control?”

His father’s associate shook the head.

“Why,” he said, “What do you say?”

“Of course it’s good,” was Francis’ warm response. “If it drops, I’ll buy. I tell you, Regan, it’s immense. I have a kind of interest, I’m doing nicely, and I don’t want Tampico Petroleum to go up.”

“Don’t you worry about that, my boy. You go fishing and forget it.” Regan paused, with finely simulated sudden recollection, and picked up Alvarez Torres’ card with the note. “Look, who’s just been here – Senor Alvarez Torres.”

Regan retained the card a moment. “Why go fishing? After all, it’s only recreation. Here’s a full-size man’s recreation. It’s about old Morgan’s treasure. Look, your father always was always proud of that old family pirate.”

“I was told about his treasure. Look, here is the map.”

Francis looked up questioningly from the reading of the card.

“Senor Torres,” Regan explained. “Gave me the map. Here is the treasure buried. Of course, I don’t believe a word of it. But… You know, Sir Henry died practically a poor man, and they never did find any of his buried treasure. Oh, I wish I were younger!… Anyway, good fishing,” Regan girded edly.

“I’d like to meet this Alvarez Torres,” the young man responded. “Do you know where I can find him?”

The next morning the meeting took place in Regan’s office. Modern maps and ancient charts were studies, as well as old documents, and at the end of half an hour Francis announced that his next fishing would be on the Bull Island,[16]16
  Bull Island – Остров Быка


[Закрыть] where – as Torres averred – the treasure lay.

“I’ll catch tonight’s train for New Orleans,” Francis announced. “And then I’ll go to Colon![17]17
  Colon – Колон


[Закрыть]”

“But don’t charter a schooner[18]18
  charter a schooner – фрахтовать шхуну


[Закрыть] at Colon,” Torres advised. “It’s better in Belen.[19]19
  Belen – Белен


[Закрыть]”

“I always wanted to see that country down there!” Francis said. “And you, Senor Torres?”

“I shall join you later, Mr. Morgan.” Alvarez Torres said. “I have some little business here.”

“And, before you start,” Regan noticed, “it might be well to arrange with Senor Torres some division of the treasure… if you ever find it.”

“What would you say?” Francis asked.

“Equal division, fifty-fifty,” Regan answered, he was talking of something he was certain did not exist.

“Fine!” Francis cried. “And I’ve got to rush to pack and break engagements and catch the train. Good-bye, Regan. Good-bye, Senor Torres, until we meet somewhere around Bocas del Toro, or in on the Bull!”

And Senor Alvarez Torres remained with Regan some time longer, receiving explicit instructions.

“In short,” Regan concluded, “I don’t almost care if he never comes back if you can keep him down there for the good of his health that long and longer.”

Chapter II

So Francis Morgan, three weeks after he had said good-bye to Regan, found himself on board his schooner, the Angelique.[20]20
  the Angelique – «Анжелика» (название шхуны)


[Закрыть] The water was glassy. Francis, through his glass, saw a white hacienda, and, on the beach, a white-clad woman’s form. He asked the captain to order a small skiff over the side.[21]21
  to order a small skiff over the side – спустить за борт маленький ялик


[Закрыть]

“Who lives around here?” he asked.

“The Enrico Solano[22]22
  Enrico Solano – Энрико Солано


[Закрыть] family, sir,” was the answer. “They own the entire general landscape from the sea to the Cordilleras[23]23
  Cordilleras – Кордильеры


[Закрыть] and half of the Chiriqui Lagoon[24]24
  Chiriqui Lagoon – лагуна Чирикви


[Закрыть] as well. They are prideful and fiery as cayenne pepper.[25]25
  fiery as cayenne pepper – вспыльчивы, как порох


[Закрыть]”

Straight to the white beach of coral sand Francis rowed, not looking over his shoulder to see if the woman remained or had vanished. When the skiff grounded, he stepped out, and with one sturdy arm lifted its nose up the sand to fasten it by its own weight. Then he turned around. The beach to the jungle was bare. He went forward confidently.

Suddenly, the woman sprang out of the green wall of jungle and with both hands seized his arm. She muttered tensely:

“Quick! Follow me!”

A moment he resisted. She shook him.

“Do as I do.”

He smiled and obeyed. Abruptly she stopped and sat down, her hand directed him to sit beside her. “Thank God!”

“My dear lady…” Francis began.

But an abrupt gesture checked him. He heard the movement of men several yards away.

She slipped away down the runway. Francis followed her, through the jungle to the beach. She stopped.

“You fool!” she cried, lifting her finger to his toothbrush moustache. “As if that could disguise you!”

“But my dear lady…” he began to protest.

“I won’t talk with you,” she answered. “Go back to your schooner, and go away… Forever. If you ever come back I shall shoot you.” She showed him a revolver.

“So I’d better go, then,” he uttered, as he turned to the skiff. She had followed him. The strange young woman, dropped to her side, was crying. Francis was about to turn to the boat, when she stopped him.

“At least you…” she began, then faltered and swallowed, “you might kiss me good-bye.[26]26
  kiss me good-bye – поцеловать меня на прощание


[Закрыть]”

She advanced impulsively. Francis hesitated a puzzled moment, then gathered her in to receive an astounding passionate kiss on his lips. She lifted her tear-wet face and kissed him again and again.

Then she menacingly directed him with the revolver to get into the boat.

From the edge of the jungle he saw three men, armed with rifles, run toward her where she had sunk down in the sand. They caught sight of Francis, who had begun rowing. The next moment, one of the tree men on the beach, a bearded elderly man, was directing the girl’s binoculars on him. And the moment after, dropping the glasses, he was taking aim with his rifle.[27]27
  he was taking aim with his rifle – он целился из ружья


[Закрыть]

The bullet spat on the water within a yard of the skiff’s side, and Francis saw the girl spring to her feet, knock up the rifle with her arm, and spoil the second shot. She was threatening the men with the revolver.

“Cayenne pepper, those damned, horrible, crazy Solanos,” the captain said.

“Yes, you’re right,” Francis agreed.

The Angelique made the outer rim of Chiriqui Lagoon and the Bull. After breakfast Francis landed to reconnoiter on the Bull.[28]28
  to reconnoiter on the Bull – исследовать остров Быка


[Закрыть]

And Francis very immediately found that he had traversed not merely thirty degrees of latitude from New York but thirty hundred years, or centuries. Nearly naked, armed with cruelly heavy hacking blades of machetes,[29]29
  machetes – мачете, большой широкий нож


[Закрыть] the Indians told him that the Bull belonged to them. But there lives a madly impossible Gringo.[30]30
  Gringo – гринго (иностранец, англоговорящий выходец с другой страны, слово используется для обозначения жителей Америки и Европы)


[Закрыть]

Francis decided to meet the mysterious Gringo. He came down to the beach. On the shore, across the narrow channel, he saw a barefooted young man in the canvas trousers, who stepped from behind a palm, automatic pistol in hand, and shouted:

“Get out!”

“I beg you pardon?” Francis grinned, half-humorously, half-seriously.

“Nobody invited you,” the stranger retorted. “You’re intruding. Get off my island. I’ll give you half a minute.”

Francis’ arrival behind the trunk was simultaneous with the arrival of a bullet that thudded into the other side of it.

“Now, just for that![31]31
  Now, just for that! – Ах так!


[Закрыть]” he called out, as he centered a bullet into the trunk of the other man’s palm.

The next few minutes they were shooting each other.

“What gun are you using?” Francis asked with cool politeness.

“Colt’s,” came the answer.

Francis stepped boldly into the open, saying: “Then you’re all out.[32]32
  you’re all out – у вас кончились пули


[Закрыть] I counted them. Eight. Now we can talk.”

The stranger stepped out, and it seemed Francis had previously known him. It was a replica of himself!

“Talk!” the stranger sneered, throwing down his pistol and drawing a knife. “Now we’ll just cut off your ears, and maybe scalp you.”

“Gee! Let’s wrestle.” Francis retorted.

“I want your ears,” the stranger answered pleasantly, as he slowly advanced.

“Sure. The man who wins gets the other fellow’s ears.”

“Agreed.” The young man in the canvas trousers sheathed his knife.

They began to fight. Francis was winning, but the stranger planted his foot in Francis’ abdomen. In a moment Francis was lying on his back.

“Why do you wear a mustache?” the stranger muttered.

“Go on and cut my ears,” Francis gasped. “The ears are yours, but the mustache is mine.”

“As for your ears, keep them. I never intended to cut them off. Get up and get out of here. And don’t come here again!”

In greater disgust than ever, Francis turned down to the beach toward his canoe.

“Say, will you leave your card?” the victor called after him.

“My name’s Morgan, that’s enough,” Francis answered.

“Really? No wonder we look alike. Listen,” the stranger said. “I am a Morgan, too.”

“My first name is Francis,” Francis returned. “And yours?”

“Henry. We must be remote cousins[33]33
  remote cousins – дальние родственники


[Закрыть] or something or other. What are you doing here? As for me, I am looking for the old Morgan’s treasure.”

“So am I,” said Francis, extending his hand.

Chapter III

Henry rowed off to the Angelique with orders from his visitor to the skipper to stay at anchor. Francis slept until late in the morning of the following day.

“Let me tell you an interesting story,” Francis said to Henry. “Day before yesterday, I rowed ashore over on the mainland. The moment I landed, the prettiest girl in the world dragged me away into the jungle. I thought she was going to eat me or marry me. I didn’t know which. Then she passed uncomplimentary remarks on my mustache and pushed me back to the boat with a revolver. She told me never come back.”

“Where on the mainland was this?” Henry demanded.

“The other end of Chiriqui Lagoon,” Francis replied. “It was the ground of the Solano family, I learned; and they are a tough family. But I haven’t told you all. Listen. First she dragged me into the jungle and insulted my mustache; next she chased me to the boat with a drawn revolver; and then she wanted to know why I didn’t kiss her.”

“And did you?” Henry demanded.

“What could a poor stranger in a strange land do? The girl was very pretty.”

“Oh, my God! That was Leoncia![34]34
  Leoncia – Леонсия


[Закрыть]” Henry said angrily.

“What if it was Leoncia? Or Mercedes? Or Dolores? Can’t a fellow kiss a pretty girl?”

“You see, this pretty girl is engaged to marry the ruffian in the dirty canvas pants!”

“She took me for you,[35]35
  she took me for you – она приняла меня за тебя


[Закрыть]” Francis said. “And your Leoncia pulled her little revolver on a long-bearded old fellow who wanted to kill me.”

“It was her father, old Enrico[36]36
  Enrico – Энрико


[Закрыть] himself,” Henry exclaimed. “And the other chaps were her brothers.”

“By the way, Henry, since they all thought it was you, and not I, why did they want to kill you?”

Henry looked at him a moment, and then answered.

“I quarreled with her uncle. He was her father’s youngest brother.”

“Was?” interrupted Francis.

“Was, I said,” Henry nodded. “He isn’t now. His name was Alfaro Solano,[37]37
  Alfaro Solano – Альфаро Солано


[Закрыть] and one day we quarreled. It was in the little town over there San Antonio.[38]38
  San Antonio – Сан-Антонио


[Закрыть] He always was looking for trouble with me, he didn’t want me to marry Leoncia, you see. He insulted me all right, and we promised to kill each other. Our threats were heard by many people. Within two hours the Comisario[39]39
  the Comisario – комиссар


[Закрыть] himself and two gendarmes found Alfaro’s body in a back street in the town. He was killed. I haven’t been back in San Antonio since. Alfaro was very popular, and everybody is sure that I killed him. In Bocas del Toro, a messenger from Leoncia delivered back the engagement ring. I didn’t dare go back, so I came over here to dig for Morgan’s treasure… I wonder who killed Alfaro. If ever I find him, then I clear myself with Leoncia and the rest of the Solanos and there isn’t a doubt in the world that there’ll be a wedding.”

“Hmm,” Francis murmured. “No wonder her father and brothers wanted to kill me. Why, the more I look at you, the more I see we’re as like as two peas, except for my mustache-”

“And for this…” Henry rolled up his sleeve, and on the left forearm showed a long, thin white scar. “I got that when I was a boy. I fell oft a windmill.”

“Now listen to me,” Francis said. “I shall help you. You stay here, while I go back and explain things to Leoncia and her people.”

“If only they don’t shoot you first before you can explain you are not I,” Henry muttered bitterly. “That’s the trouble with those Solanos. They shoot first and talk afterward.”

“I’ll take a chance, old man,” Francis wanted to clear up the distressing situation between Henry and the girl.

But the thought of her perplexed him. That lovely creature belonged to the man who looked so much like him! He saw again the vision of her on the beach. He sighed involuntarily.

“Leoncia is an exceedingly pretty girl,” Francis said. “Where’s that ring she returned? If I don’t put it on her finger for you and be back here in a week with the good news, you can cut off my mustache along with my ears.”

An hour later, Captain sent a boat to the beach from the Angelique. The two young men said good-bye.

“Just two things more, Francis. First, and I forgot to tell you, Leoncia is not a Solano at all, though she thinks she is. Alfaro told me himself. She is an adopted child, Alfaro said she wasn’t Spanish at all. I don’t even know whether she’s English or American. You see, she was adopted when she was a baby, and she’s never known anything else than that Enrico is her father.”

“And no wonder she scorned and hated me for you,” Francis laughed, “She believes that you killed her uncle.”

Henry nodded, and went on.

“The other thing is fairly important. And that’s the law. Or the absence of it, rather. They make it whatever they want it. It’s a long way to Panama,[40]40
  Panama – Панама


[Закрыть] and the Jefe Politico[41]41
  Jefe Politico – начальник полиции


[Закрыть] at San Antonio is a very sly man. He’s the little czar of that land, and he’s a real scoundrel, believe me. He’s as cruel and blood-thirsty as a weasel. And his only delight is an execution.[42]42
  execution – казнь


[Закрыть] He adores hanging. And, well, so long. And half of whatever I find on the Bull is yours… and please get that ring back on Leoncia’s finger.”

* * *

Two days later, after the news that all the men of Leoncia’s family were away, Francis had himself landed on the beach where he had first met her. As Francis scrawled on a sheet of paper from his notebook, “I am the man whom you mistook for Henry Morgan, and I have a message for you from him,” he heard Leoncia’s cry. Note and pencil fell to the sand as he sprang toward the direction of the cry. Soon he saw her. Leoncia’s face was colorless.

“What is it?” Francis demanded. “Are you hurt? What’s happened?”

She pointed at her bare knee with two tiny drops of blood.

“It was a viperine,” she said. “A deadly viperine. I shall be a dead woman in five minutes, and I am glad, glad, for then my heart will be tormented no more by you.”

She sank down in a faint.

Francis pulled out his handkerchief and tied it loosely around her leg above the knee. Next, he opened the small blade of his pocket-knife, burned it with several matches, and cut carefully into the two lacerations made by the snake’s fangs.

The girl began to move restlessly. “Lie down,” he commanded, as she sat up.

At the same instant the Indian lad ran out of the jungle, swinging a small dead snake by the tail and crying:

“Labarri![43]43
  labarri – лабарри


[Закрыть] Labarri!”

At which Francis assumed the worst.

“Lie down, and be quiet!” he repeated harshly. “You haven’t a second to lose.”

But watched only the dead snake.

“You dare!” she threatened him. “It’s only a baby labarri, and its bite is harmless. I thought it was a viperine. They look alike when the labarri is small.”

The constriction of the circulation by the tourniquet pained her, and she glanced down and discovered his handkerchief knotted around her leg.

“Oh, what have you done? It was only a baby labarri,” she reproached him.

“You told me it was a viperine,” he retorted.

She hid her face in her hands. He could say that she was laughing.

“And now, we’ll talk business, Miss Solano,” he said in changed tones. “And you will listen. Please, don’t interrupt me.” He stooped and picked up the note he had been writing. “I was just sending that to you by the boy when you screamed. Take it. Read it. It won’t bite you. It isn’t a viperine.”

Though she refused to receive it, her eyes involuntarily scanned the opening line:

“I am the man whom you mistook for Henry Morgan…”

“You… are… not… Henry?” she gasped.

“No, I am not. Won’t you please take it and read.”

“But the name? Your name?”

“Morgan, Francis Morgan.” He bowed. “As I explained there, Henry and I are distant relatives, or something like that. Moreover, Henry did not kill your uncle.”

To his bewilderment, a great doubt suddenly dawned in her eyes.

“Henry,” she accused him. “This is a devil’s trick you’re trying to play on me. Of course you are Henry.”

Francis pointed to his mustache.

“You’ve grown that since,” she challenged.

He pulled up his sleeve and showed her his left arm from wrist to elbow.

“Do you remember the scar?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Then find it.”

“I… I ask your forgiveness. I was terribly mistaken, and I’ve treated you…”

“That kiss was delightful,” he naughtily disclaimed.

“Do you have a message from Henry,” she changed the subject abruptly. “Is he innocent…? This is true? Oh, I want to believe you!”

“I am morally certain that Henry did not kill your uncle!”

“Then say no more, at least not now,” she interrupted joyfully. “First of all, you must go with me now to the house. And you can tell me about Henry on the way.”

* * *

Alvarez Torres was sitting on the broad piazza of the Solano Hacienda.[44]44
  on the broad piazza of the Solano Hacienda – на широкой террасе перед асьендой Солано


[Закрыть] What he saw was Leoncia and Francis. Next and Torres could scarcely believe his eyes, he saw Francis take a ring, and Leoncia extend her left hand and receive the ring upon her third ringer. Engagement finger it was!

What had really occurred was the placing of Henry’s engagement ring back on Leoncia’s hand. And Leoncia, she knew not why, was not very glad to receiving the ring.

Torres tossed the dead cigarette away, twisted his mustache fiercely, and advanced to meet them across the piazza.

“One does not expect to see a shameless murderer here.”

Francis smiled.

“Another lunatic in this lunatic land,” he said. “The last time, Leoncia, that I saw this gentleman was in New York. He was really anxious to do business with me. Now I meet him here and the first thing he tells me is that I am a shameless murderer.”

“Senor Torres, you must apologize,” she declared angrily. “We don’t insult guest in the house of Solano.”

“Senor Torres,” Francis said. “I know what your mistake is. You think I am Henry Morgan. I am Francis Morgan, and you and I, not long ago, transacted business together in Regan’s office in New York.”

Torres, overwhelmed for the moment by his mistake, uttered apologies both to Francis and Leoncia.

“And now,” said Leoncia, “Senor Torres, we will tell you about Henry.”

While she departed, Torres found he was more amazed and angry than ever. A newcomer, a stranger put a ring on Leoncia’s engagement finger! He thought quickly and passionately for a moment. Leoncia, whom to himself he always named the queen of his dreams, had engaged herself to a strange Gringo from New York. It was unbelievable, monstrous. He clapped his hands, summoned his hired carriage.

After lunch, Francis, eager to bring to Henry the good word that his ring adorned Leoncia’s finger, resolutely declined her hospitality to remain for the night and meet Enrico Solano and his sons. Francis had a further reason for hasty departure. He could not endure the presence of Leoncia. She charmed him, drew him, to such extent that he dared not endure her charm. So Francis departed with a letter to Henry from Leoncia in his pocket. Leoncia stared at the ring on her finger with a vaguely troubled expression.

From the beach, Francis signaled the Angelique to send a boat ashore for him. But suddenly half a dozen horsemen rode down the beach upon him at a gallop. Two men led. The following four had guns. Of the two leaders, Francis recognized Torres.

“Now, sirs, tell me, what do you want? Is it my ears, or merely my mustache, you want?”

“We want you,” answered the stranger leader.

“And who might you be?”

“He is the honorable Senor Mariano Vercara e Hijos,[45]45
  Mariano Vercara e Hijos – Мариано Веркара-и-Ихос


[Закрыть] Jefe Politico of San Antonio,” Torres replied.

“Good night,” Francis laughed, remembering the man’s description as given to him by Henry. “I suppose you think I’ve broken some sanitary regulation by anchoring here. But I am only the charterer of the schooner just a passenger. You must talk to the Captain.”

“You are wanted for the murder of Alfaro Solano,” was Torres’ answer. “You didn’t fool me, Henry Morgan, with your talk up at the hacienda that you were some one else. I know that some one else. His name is Francis Morgan, and he is not a murderer, but a gentleman.”

“Oh!” Francis exclaimed. “But you recognized me, Senor Torres!”

“I was fooled,” Torres admitted sadly. “But only for a moment. Will you come peaceably?”

“Yes,” Francis shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose you’ll hang me at daybreak.”

“Justice is swift in Panama,” the Jefe Politico replied. “But not so quick as that. We will not hang you at daybreak. Ten o’clock in the morning is more comfortable, don’t you think?”

“Oh, by all means,” Francis retorted. “Make it eleven, or twelve noon I won’t mind.”

“You will come with us, Senor,” Mariano Vercara e Hijos said. “Juan! Ignacio![46]46
  Juan! Ignacio! – Хуан! Игнасио!


[Закрыть]” he ordered in Spanish. “Take his weapons. No, it will not be necessary to tie his hands. Put him on the horse behind Gregorio.[47]47
  Gregorio – Грегорио


[Закрыть]”

* * *

Francis found himself in a whitewashed cell[48]48
  whitewashed cell – выбеленная камера


[Закрыть] with walls five feet thick. The hour was half-past eight in the evening. The trial had begun at eight. He was scheduled at ten next morning to swing off into space supported from the ground by a rope around his neck. The trial had lasted half an hour by his watch. Leoncia burst in and prolonged it by the ten minutes.

* * *

The Jefe was right, “Francis acknowledged to himself Panama justice moves swiftly.”

The letter given him by Leoncia and addressed to Henry Morgan had damned him. The rest had been easy. Half a dozen witnesses identified him as the murderer. The Jefe Politico himself had so testified. Torres was in love with Leoncia, and his jealousy knew no limits.

Leoncia broke down, sobbing on his shoulder, in his arms: “It is a cursed country, a cursed country.”

And as Francis held her pliant form, he remembered Henry, in his canvas pants, bare-footed, under his floppy sombrero, digging holes in the sand of the Bull.

“They just knew I was guilty and were eager to punish me. Why delay? They knew Henry Morgan had knifed Alfaro. They knew I was Henry Morgan,” he said.

Deaf to his words, she was in his arms, against him, to him, her lips raised to his; and his own lips to hers. “I love you, I love you,” she whispered.

“No, no,” he denied what he most desired. “Henry and I are too alike. It is Henry you love, and I am not Henry.”

She drew Henry’s ring from her finger, and threw it on the floor. Francis slipped Henry’s ring back on her finger and kissed her hand in farewell. When she passed out the door she turned and with a whispered movement of the lips told him: “I love you.”

* * *

At ten o’clock Francis was brought to the gallows. All San Antonio was present, including Leoncia, Enrico Solano, and his five tall sons. In vain Leoncia’s father and brothers protested that Francis was not the man. The Jefe Politico smiled and ordered the execution to proceed.

Standing on the trap, Francis declined the ministrations of the priest, telling him that an innocent man needed no intercessions.

They had tied Francis’ legs, and were tying his arms, when the voice of a singer was heard. Henry Morgan was entering, thrusting aside the guards at the gate who tried to bar his way.[49]49
  to bar his way – преграждать ему путь


[Закрыть]

The Jefe shrugged his shoulders and announced that he was ready to hang both men. And here arose contention from the Solano men that Henry was likewise innocent of the murder of Alfaro. But it was Francis, from the scaffold, who shouted:

“You cannot hang a man without trial! He must have his trial!”

And when Francis had descended from the scaffold, the Comisario, with the Jefe at his back, arrested Henry Morgan for the murder of Alfaro Solano.