Текст книги "Сердца трёх / Hearts of three"

Chapter IV

“We must work quickly,” Francis said to the Solanos on the piazza of the Solano hacienda.

“We must save him!” Leoncia cried out.

“All Gringos look alike to the Jefe,” Francis said. She was splendidly beautiful and wonderful, he thought. “He’ll give Henry no more time than he gave us. We must get him out tonight.”

“Now listen,” Leoncia began again. “We Solanos cannot permit this… this execution. Our pride… our honor. We cannot permit it. Speak! Any of you. Father! Suggest something…”

And while Enrico Solano and his sons talked plans and projects, a house servant came, whispered in Leoncia’s ear, and led her away.

Around the corner, Alvarez Torres, in all the medieval Spanish splendor of dress, greeted her, bowed low with a sombrero in hand.

“The trial is over, Leoncia,” he said softly, tenderly, as one speaks of the dead. “He is sentenced.[50]50
  he is sentenced – он приговорён


[Закрыть] Tomorrow at ten o’clock is the time. It is all very sad, most very sad. But…” He shrugged his shoulders. “No, I shall not speak harshly of him. He was an honorable man. His one fault was his temper. It was too quick, too fiery.”

“He never killed my uncle!” Leoncia cried.

“And it is regrettable,” Torres said gently and sadly, avoiding any disagreement. “The judge, the people, the Jefe Politico, unfortunately, are all united in believing that he did. Which is most regrettable. But I came to offer my service in any and all ways you may command. My life, my honor, are at your disposal. Speak. I am your slave.”

Dropping suddenly and gracefully on one knee before her, he caught her hand from her lap.

“I knew you when you were small, Leoncia, so very, very charmingly small, and I loved you always. No, listen! Please. My heart must speak. When you returned from schooling abroad, a woman, a grand and noble lady, I was burnt by your beauty. I have been patient. I refrained from speaking.”

She listened patiently. Henry… And Francis… Why did this stranger Gringo so enamore her heart? Was she a wanton? Was it one man? Or another man? Or any man? No! No! She was not fickle nor unfaithful. And yet?… Perhaps it was because Francis and Henry were so much alike, and her poor stupid loving woman’s heart failed properly to distinguish between them. And she could follow Henry anywhere over the world, but now she would follow Francis even farther. She loved Henry, her heart solemnly proclaimed. But she loved Francis, too. There was a difference in her love for the two men; so she, the latest and only woman of the house of Solano, was a wanton.

Torres continued:

“You have been the delicious thorn in my heart. I have dreamed of you… and for you. And I have my own name for you. The Queen of my Dreams. And you will marry me, my Leoncia! We will forget this mad Gringo who is as already dead.[51]51
  who is as already dead – который сейчас всё равно что мёртв


[Закрыть] I shall be gentle, kind. I shall love you always. For you… I shall love you so that it will be impossible for the memory of him to arise between us and.”

Leoncia was silent. How to save Henry? Torres offered his services.

“Speak!” Torres urged.

“Hush! Hush!” she said softly. “How can I listen to you, when the man I loved is yet alive?”

Loved! The past tense of it! She had said “loved”. She had loved him, but no longer. Torres was glad. The one thing is clear: if he wants to win Leoncia quickly, Henry Morgan must die quickly.

“We will speak of it no more… now,” he said with gentleness, as he gently pressed her hand, and rose to his feet.

“Come,” she said. “We will join the others. They are planning now, or trying to find some plan, to save Henry Morgan.”

“I have a plan, if you will pardon me,[52]52
  if you will pardon me – если позволите


[Закрыть]” Torres began. He smiled, and twisted his mustache.

“There is one way, the Gringo, Anglo-Saxon way, and it is simple. That is just what it is. We will go and take Henry out of jail in brutal and direct Gringo fashion. It is the one thing they will not expect. Therefore, it will succeed. There are enough rascals on the beach with which we can storm the jail. Hire them, pay them well, but only partly in advance, and the thing is accomplished.”

Leoncia nodded. Old Enrico’s eyes flashed. And all looked to Francis for his opinion or agreement. He shook his head slowly.

“That way is hopeless,” he said. “Why should all of you risk your necks in a mad attempt like that?”

“You mean you doubt me?” Torres bristled. “You mean that I am forbidden by you from the councils of the Solanos who are my oldest and most honored friends.”

Old Enrico began to speak.

“There are no councils of the Solanos from which you are barred, Senor Torres. You are indeed an old friend of the family. Your late father and I were comrades, almost brothers. But truly your plan is hopeless. To storm the jail is truly madness. Look at the thickness of the walls. They could stand a siege of weeks.”

Torres briefly apologized and departed for San Antonio.

“What have you against Senor Torres? Why did you reject his plan and anger him?” Leoncia demanded of Francis.

“Nothing,” was the answer, “except that we do not need him. He is a fool and he will spoil any plan. Maybe he can’t be trusted. I don’t know. Anyway, what’s the good of trusting him when we don’t need him? Now his plan is all right. We’ll go straight to the jail and take Henry out. And we don’t need to trust to rascals. Six men of us can do it.”

“There is a dozen guards at the jail,” Ricardo,[53]53
  Ricardo – Риккардо


[Закрыть] Leoncia’s youngest brother, a lad of eighteen, objected.

Leoncia frowned at him; but Francis took his part.

“That’s true,” he agreed. “But we will eliminate the guards.”

“The five-foot walls,” said Martinez Solano,[54]54
  Martinez Solano – Мартинес Солано


[Закрыть] twin brother to Alvarado.[55]55
  Alvarado – Альварадо


[Закрыть]

“That’s what I mean. You, Senor Solano, have plenty of saddle horses?[56]56
  saddle horses – верховые лошади


[Закрыть] Good. And you, Alesandro,[57]57
  Alesandro – Алесандро


[Закрыть] can you supply me with a couple of sticks of dynamite? Good, and better than good. And do you have in your store-room a plentiful supply of rye whiskey?”

Chapter V

It was in the mid-afternoon, and Henry, at his barred cell-window, stared out into the street. The street was dusty and filthy. Next, he saw a light wagon drawn by a horse. In the seat a gray-headed, gray-bearded ancient man strove vainly to check the horse.[58]58
  to check the horse – сдержать лошадь


[Закрыть]

Henry smiled. When directly opposite the window, the old man made a last effort. The driver fell backward into the seat. Then the wagon was a wreck. The old man swung the horse in a circle until it stopped.

The gendarmes erupted from the jail. The old man went hurriedly to the wagon and began an examination of the several packing cases, large and small, which composed its load. One of the gendarmes addressed him.

“Me? Alas senors, I am an old man, and far from home. I am Leopoldo Narvaez.[59]59
  Leopoldo Narvaez – Леопольдо Нарваэс


[Закрыть] I have driven from Bocas del Toro. It has taken me five days, and business has been poor. My home is in Colon. But tell me, is there Tomas Romero[60]60
  Tomas Romero – Томас Ромеро


[Закрыть] who dwells in this pleasant city of San Antonio?”

“There are many Romeros who dwell everywhere in Panama,” laughed Pedro Zurita,[61]61
  Pedro Zurita – Педро Зурита


[Закрыть] the assistant jailer.[62]62
  assistant jailer – помощник начальника тюрьмы


[Закрыть] “Do you mean the rich Tomas Romero who owns many cattle on the hills?”

“Yes, senor, it must be he. I shall find him. If my precious stock-in-trade[63]63
  stock-in-trade – товар


[Закрыть] can be safely stored, I shall seek him now.” As he talked, he took out from his pocket two silver pesos and handed them to the jailer.

Pedro Zurita and the gendarmes began to carry the boxes into the jail.

“Careful, senors, careful,” the old one pleaded, greatly anxious. “Handle it gently. It is fragile, most fragile.”

Then he added gratefully: “A thousand thanks, senors. It has been my good fortune to meet with honest men with whom my goods will be safe. Tomorrow I shall return, and take my goods. Adios, senors, adios!”

* * *

In the guardroom, fifty feet away from Henry’s cell, the gendarmes were robbing Leopoldo Narvaez. Pedro Zurita made a profound survey of the large box.

“Leave it alone, Pedro,” one of the gendarmes laughed at him. The assistant jailer sighed, walked away and sat down, looked back at the box, and sighed again.

“Take the hatchet there and open the box,” he said. “Open the box, Ignacio,[64]64
  Ignacio – Игнасио


[Закрыть] we will look, we will only look. Then we will close the box again.”

“Whiskey! The old man was a fool,” laughed gendarmes. “That whiskey was his, all his, and he has never taken one little sip!”

In few minutes everybody was drunk. Pedro Zurita became sentimental.

“My prisoners,” he maundered. “I love them as brothers. Life is sad. My prisoners are my very children. My heart bleeds for them. Behold! I weep. Let us share with them. Let them have a moment’s happiness. Ignacio, carry a bottle of this elixir to the Gringo Morgan. Give him my love. He will drink and be happy today.”

The voice outside caught Henry’s attention, and he was crossing his big cell to the window when he heard a key in the door. Ignacio came in, completely drunk, bottle in hand, which he gravely presented to Henry.

“With the high compliments of our good jailer, Pedro Zurita,” he mumbled. “He says to drink and forget that he must stretch your neck tomorrow.”

“My high compliments to Senor Pedro Zurita, and tell him from me to go to hell along with his whiskey,” Henry replied.

The gendarme suddenly become sober.

“Very well, senor,” he said, then passed out and locked the door.

In a rush Henry was at the window just in time to encounter Francis face to face. Francis was thrusting a revolver to him through the bars.

“Henry,” Francis said. “Stand back in your cell, because there’s going to be a hole in this wall. The Angelique is waiting for you. Now, stand back.”

Hardly had Henry backed into a rear corner of his cell, when the door was clumsily unlocked and opened.

“Kill the Gringo!” cried the gendarmes.

Ignacio fired wildly from his gun, missing Henry by half the width of the cell. The next moment he went down under the impact of Henry’s bullet. Henry waited for the explosion.

It came. The window and the wall beneath it became all one aperture. Francis dragged him out through the hole.

“The horses are waiting up the next alley,” Francis told Henry, as they gripped hands. “And Leoncia is waiting with them. Fifteen minutes’ gallop will take us to the beach, where the boat is waiting.”

“The gendarmes got full of whiskey and decided to finish me off right away,” Henry grinned. “Funny thing that whiskey. An old man broke a wagon right in front of the jail.”

“A noble Narvaez, eh, senor?” Francis asked.

“It was you!”

Francis smiled.

Chapter VI

Jefe Politico of San Antonio, leaned back in his chair with a quiet smile of satisfaction proceeded to roll a cigarette. The old judge gave judgment according to program. And the Jefe was two hundred dollars richer for the transaction. His smile was even broader as he greeted Alvarez Torres.

“Listen,” said the latter, whispering low in his ear. “We can kill both Morgans. Henry hangs tomorrow. Francis should go out today.”

The Jefe remained silent.

“I have advised him to storm the jail. The Solanos have listened to his lies and are with him. They will surely attempt to do it this evening. They could not do it sooner. Francis Morgan will be killed in the fight.”

“For what and for why?” the Jefe asked. “Henry must be out of the way. But let Francis go back to his beloved New York.”

“It is imperative that the Francis be kept away from New York for a month if forever, and I do not misunderstand Senor Regan, so much the better. Money matters, you know.”

“But you have not told me how much you have received, nor how much you will receive,” the Jefe said.

“It is a private agreement, and it is not so much as you may fancy. He is a hard man, this Senor Regan, a hard man. But I will divide fairly with you.”

The Jefe nodded, then said:

“Will it be as much as a thousand?”

“I think so. And five hundred is yours if Francis leaves his bones in San Antonio.”

“It must be more than a thousand,” the Jefe persisted.

“And he may be generous,” Torres responded. “He may even give me five hundred over the thousand, half of which, naturally, as I have said, will be yours as well.”

“I shall go from here immediately to the jail,” the Jefe announced. “You may trust me, Senor Torres, as I trust you. Come. We will go at once, now, you and I, and you may see for yourself the preparation I shall make for this Francis Morgan’s reception. So this Gringo will storm our jail, eh? Come.”

He stood up. But, half way across the room, a boy plucked his sleeve and whined:

“I have information. You will pay me for it, Senor? I have run all the way.”

“I’ll sent you to the jail!” was the reply.

The boy cried: “You will remember I brought you the information, Senor. I ran all the way until I am almost dead!”

“Yes, yes, animal, I will remember. What is your information? It may not be worth a centavo.[65]65
  centavo – сентаво, мелкая монета ряда испано– и португалоязычных стран


[Закрыть]”

“The jail,” the boy quavered. “The strange Gringo, the one who was to be hanged yesterday, has blown down the side of the jail. The hole is as big as the steeple of the cathedral! And the other Gringo, the one who looks like him, the one who was to hang tomorrow, has escaped with him out of the hole. This I saw, myself, with my two eyes, and then I ran here to you all the way, and you will remember…”

“I don’t believe it has been accomplished. It is not possible. Even a fool Gringo would not dare.”

Rafael,[66]66
  Rafael – Рафаэль


[Закрыть] the gendarme, rifle in hand, came through the courtroom door.

“We are devastated,” were Rafael’s first words. “The jail is destroyed. Dynamite! A hundred pounds of it: A thousand! We came bravely to save the jail. But it exploded the thousand pounds of dynamite. I fell unconscious, rifle in hand. When sense came back to me, I looked about. All others, the brave Pedro, the brave Ignacio, the brave Augustino[67]67
  Augustino – Аугустино


[Закрыть] – all, all, lay around me dead! They lay dead. The cell of Morgan was empty. There was a huge and monstrous hole in the wall. I crawled through the hole into the street. There was a great crowd. But the Gringo Morgan was gone. They rode toward the beach. There is a schooner that is not anchored. Francis Morgan rides with a sack of gold on his saddle. It is a large sack.”

“And the hole?” the Jefe demanded. “The hole in the wall?”

“Is larger than the sack, much larger,” was Rafael’s reply. “But the sack is large. And he rides with it on his saddle.”

“My jail!” the Jefe cried. He slipped a dagger from inside his coat. “My jail! Our justice! Our law! Horses! Horses! Gendarme, horses! To hell with Senor Regan! My jail is desolated! My law, our law, good friends has been mocked. Horses! Horses! Haste! Haste!”

* * *

“Glad to welcome you on board, sir,” Captain greeted Francis with a smile. “But who is this man?” He nodded his head to indicate Henry.

“A friend, captain, a guest of mine, in fact, a kinsman.”

“And who, sir, are those gentlemen riding along the beach?”

Henry looked quickly at the group of horsemen, took the binoculars from the skipper’s hand, and gazed through them.

“It’s the Jefe himself,” he reported, “with gendarmes.”

“They tried to hang me yesterday,” Francis laughed. “And tomorrow they were going to hang Henry. And here we are.”

Here Enrico Solano approached Henry and held out his hand.

“I have been guilty of a grave mistake, Senor Morgan,” he said. “My beloved brother, Alfaro… I was guilty of thinking you guilty of his murder. The evidence was all against you. I regret. I am sorry. And I am proud once again to welcome you into my family as the husband-to-be[68]68
  husband-to-be – будущий муж


[Закрыть] of my Leoncia.”

Chapter VII

“And now we’ve lost both the Gringos,” Alvarez Torres lamented. “The Queen of my Dreams! She is gone and away, with the two Morgans. I saw her climb up the side of the schooner!”

“They will not get out of Chiriqui Lagoon,” the Jefe said solemnly. “I know they will not get out. I swear eternal vengeance. That captain knows the lagoon like a book. He will try to go past Bocas del Toro, or through the Cartago Passage. Even so, we will outwit him. I have brains, reason. Reason. Listen. It is a long ride. We will catch them.”

* * *

Leoncia awoke first. She looked down upon the two young men. They were so alike, and she knew love for both of them. She remembered the kisses of Henry on her mouth, and the kisses of Francis, and was puzzled and amazed. She loved two men at the one time. She would follow Henry to the end of the world and Francis even farther. And she could not understand such wantonness.

They looked so bonny, the pair of Morgans, Leoncia thought.

Three hours later, breakfast of coffee and fruit over, she found herself at the wheel taking her first lesson of the compass under Francis’ tuition. Henry was searching the sea through the binoculars.

Francis put the wheel up. His hand rested on Leoncia’s hand. They thrilled, and the skipper grinned.

“It’s not so far to shore,” Henry said as he turned to Enrico. “What kind of a shore is it, Senor Solano?” he queried. “Maya Indians[69]69
  Maya Indians – индейцы майя


[Закрыть] and haciendados?[70]70
  haciendados – плантаторы


[Закрыть]”

“Haciendados and Mayas, both,” Enrico answered. “But I know the country well. If the schooner is not safe, we should be safe ashore. We can get horses and saddles and beef and corn. The Cordilleras are beyond. What more should we want?”

“But Leoncia?” Francis asked solicitously.

“Was born in the saddle,” came Enrico’s answer.

Chapter VIII

“The Angelique is trapped,” Francis said. “If we remain on board the gendarmes will capture us and the Angelique as well. We will go to the hills. The Angelique will go free. And of course they won’t catch us. We’re going to hike.”

So the party came to the beach and disappeared into the dense green wall of vegetation. Leoncia, beside her father, walked in the lead. Her brothers, Ricardo and Alesandro, in the middle, were burdened with the dunnage,[71]71
  with the dunnage – нагруженные тюками


[Закрыть] as were Francis and Henry, who brought up the rear.[72]72
  brought up the rear – замыкали шествие


[Закрыть] When they came to the plantation, they bought horses and food from a haciendado. With everybody mounted, the cavalcade started.

* * *

Soon the haciendado observed the fast-walking group of men, with Alvarez Torres in the lead.

“Senor,” Torres said. “We are in search of Senor Enrico Solano, his daughter, his sons, and two tall Gringos with them. It is the Gringos we want. They have passed this way, Senor?”

“Yes, they have passed. Have they committed some offence? But I should not ask. Senor Enrico Solano is a honorable man…”

“Which way did they go?” the Jefe demanded.

And while the haciendado indicated an entirely different direction, Torres noted one of the peons,[73]73
  peon – пеон, батрак в Латинской Америке


[Закрыть] leaning on his spade. Torres showed a silver dollar to the listening peon. The peon nodded his head in the right direction and caught the coin.

“We will go the other way,” Torres said, with a wink to the Jefe. “A little bird has told me that our friend here is mistaken and that they have gone the other way.”

The haciendado and his helper looked at each other in amazement. The offending peon was working furiously, but another peon indicated him to the haciendado.

“There’s the little bird,” the haciendado cried. “Beat him, beat him to death, the beast who betrayed my dearest friends!”

The Solano party was crossing a shallow stream. Next, Alvarez Torres in the lead like a hound, the gendarmes at his back, the Jefe panting in the rear, the pursuit arrived at the stream.

Chapter IX

In the meantime the Solanos Henry teased Francis with:

“Here in the jungle is where dollars are worthless. They can buy neither fresh horses, nor can they repair these two poor animals.”

“I’ve never been in a place yet where money wouldn’t work,” Francis replied. “I have an idea I can make dollars work in the jungle, and I am going to try it right now. You go ahead and ride on.”

“You must tell me,” Leoncia said.

In her ear as she leaned to him from the saddle, Francis whispered what made her laugh.

Before they were out of sight, looking back, they saw Francis, with pad and pencil, writing something. What he wrote was eloquently brief, merely the figure “50”. He laid the piece of paper in the middle of the trail and weighted it down with a silver dollar. Counting out forty-nine other dollars from the bag, he sowed them very immediately about the first one[74]74
  sowed them about the first one – разбросал их вокруг первого


[Закрыть] and ran up the trail after his party.

Augustino, the gendarme who rarely spoke when he was sober, was in the lead, when his keen eyes noticed the silver dollar holding down the sheet of paper. He took the dollar and pondered the “50” thoughtfully. Even as he pondered it, a shout from Rafael advertised the finding of another dollar. Then Augustino knew. There were fifty of the coins for the picking up. He was on hands and knees[75]75
  he was on hands and knees – он опустился на четвереньки


[Закрыть] overhauling the ground. The rest of the party joined in the scramble, while Torres and the Jefe screamed curses on them in a vain effort to make them proceed.

When the gendarmes could find no more, they counted up what they had recovered. The toll came to forty-seven.

“There are three more,” cried Rafael, whereupon all flung themselves into the search again. Five minutes more were lost, before the three other coins were found.

A mile farther on, Vicente,[76]76
  Vicente – Висенте


[Закрыть] another gendarme, noticed a tree. Five feet from the ground was an opening. Above the opening, pinned on by a thorn, was a sheet of paper the same size as the first they had found. On it was written “100”.

“We will chop down the stump,” Rafael cried. “We will all chop, and we will count what we find inside and divide equally.”

By this time their leaders were frantic, and the Jefe had begun to threaten.

“We are poor men, and we will divide in fairness,” spoke up Rafael. “This rich Gringo scatters more money along the way in a day for us than we could earn in a year.”

When the stump fell over, they counted and divided, in equity, not one hundred silver dollars, but one hundred and forty-seven.

“He is generous, this Gringo,” said Vicente. “He leaves more than he says. May there not still be more?”

So they lost ten more minutes that drove Torres and Jefe to the verge of madness.

The chase was resumed, and all went well for half an hour, when they came upon an abandoned freehold. And on the well-sweep, was pinned a familiar sheet of paper on which was written “300”.

“Mother of God! A fortune!” cried Rafael.

“He pays better than your Senor Regan,” the Jefe said to Torres. “We will go on now, comrades. Afterwards, we will return and recover the silver.”

“One never knows the way of one’s return, if one ever returns,” Augustino enunciated pessimistically.

“Some one must descend into the well,” spoke Rafael, testing the rope with his weight.

“In God’s name go down!” stormed the Jefe. “Haste! Haste!”

“I am too fat, the rope is not strong, and I shall not go down,” said Vicente.

“Guillermo[77]77
  Guillermo – Гиллермо


[Закрыть] is the thinnest and lightest,” said Augustino. “Guillermo will go down!”

“And the Gringos are running away farther and farther,” Torres fumed. “A fine discipline you have, Senor, over your gendarmes!”

“This is not San Antonio,” the Jefe said. “This is the bush of Juchitan.[78]78
  the bush of Juchitan – дебри Хучитана


[Закрыть] My dogs are good dogs in San Antonio. In the bush they must be handled gently, else may they become wild dogs, and what then will happen to you and me?”

* * *

Ahead, on the trail, Francis overtook his party.

“Never again shall I travel without coins,” he exulted. “Henry, when I die and go to heaven, I shall have a bag of cash along with me. Listen! The gendarmes are fighting like cats and dogs. They were still fighting when I left.”

“But now your sack is empty,” said Henry.

“Which is our present trouble,” Francis agreed. “I’m afraid I was too generous. I did not know how cheap the poor devils were. But I’ll tell you something. Torres, Senor Torres, Senor Alvarez Torres, the elegant gentleman and a good friend of you Solanos, is leading the pursuit along with the Jefe! He is furious at the delay.”

Five miles farther on, the trail plunged into and ascended a dark ravine. A hundred yards beyond he came upon the flow. It was crude oil, as thick as molasses, it oozed slowly down the hill. And here Francis sat down on a rock, laid his rifle on one side of him, his automatic pistol on the other side, and began to wait for the first sounds of the pursuit.

The peon rode across the top of the ravine above Francis. He plunged down the mountainside and upon Francis. Francis studied him.

“Amigo, amigo,” chattered the peon. “They will kill me, they will beat me to death, they are very angry. You are my only friend, my father and my mother, save me.”

“Can you shoot?” Francis demanded.

“I was a hunter in the Cordilleras before I was sold into slavery, Senor,” was the reply.

The Jefe, Torres, and the gendarmes appeared down the trail. As abruptly he fired his rifle, and as abruptly they fell back out of sight. Francis and the peon were sheltering behind rocks and bushes and frequently changing their positions.

At the end of an hour, the last cartridge in Francis’ rifle was all that remained. The peon crawled to his side, showed him that two shots remained in the automatic, and begged from him his box of matches. Next, the peon motioned him to cross the bottom of the canyon and climb the other side. The next moment, the river of oil flared into flame from where the peon had touched a match to it. And, in the moment after, the ravine itself poured a torrent of flame down upon the posse of Torres and the Jefe.

Francis and the peon clawed up the opposite side of the ravine, circled around and past the blazing fire, and raced up the recovered trail.