The journey to the coast was made by easy stages and Esteban stood it fairly well. The excitement wore upon him, to be sure, and the jolting1 of his litter was trying, but Norine was always at his side where he could see her, and Rosa joined in the tender care of him. Guides, horses, and a tent for the sick man had been supplied, and over these O'Reilly exercised a jealous watchfulness2, ably seconded by Branch. For once, at least, the latter lent himself to useful ends and shirked no duties. His wounded arm recovered miraculously3 and he exercised it freely; he skirmished industriously4 for food and he enlivened the journey by a rare display of good spirits.
Jacket, of course, went along. Upon the announcement of O'Reilly's intended departure for the States he had promptly5 abandoned Cuba to her fate. He foreswore her utterly6 and declared himself a loyal American citizen. He made it plain once more, and for the last time, that where O'Reilly went, there went he, for they were one and indivisible. It dismayed him not at all to turn his feet to new pathways, his face toward new adventures.
Relying upon the best information obtainable at Cubitas, O'Reilly had counted upon securing a sailboat from a certain fisherman whose sympathies were known to be loyal, but in this he was disappointed. The party arrived at its destination, a tiny clearing on an unfrequented part of the north shore, only to find it deserted7 and already grown to weeds. The house was empty, the boats were gone—all but one old hulk, too rotten to warrant moving, which lay high up on the sand, its planks8 worm-eaten, its seams wide spread by the sun.
Having established Esteban in the hut, O'Reilly took counsel with his Cubans, but gained little satisfaction from them. They knew of no other fisherman in this vicinity; the nearest towns were in Spanish hands; they advised a return to Cubitas at once. This O'Reilly would not listen to. Sending them in one direction, he took Leslie and Jacket and rode away in the other. The trio followed the beach for several miles until they came to a vast mangrove9 swamp which turned them inland. This they skirted until the jungle became impassable and they were in danger of losing themselves; they returned at dusk, having encountered no human being and having discovered neither roads nor houses.
The other expedition reported slightly better successes; it had located a small plantation10 some distance to the east, the owner of which had warned them against exploring farther, inasmuch as a strong Spanish patrol, on the lookout11 for that American despatch-bearer from Nassau, was operating in his neighborhood. It was these very troops, he announced, who had driven the fisherman from his home; he was sure there were no boats anywhere within reach.
O'Reilly was in a quandary12. He gravely doubted Esteban's ability to stand the rough return journey, and when he spoke13 to Norine of turning back she was panic-stricken at the suggestion.
"No, no!" she cried, anxiously. "We MUST get him away. Oh, Johnnie, every day we lose by waiting lessens14 his chances! His heart is set on going through and it would—kill him to go back."
"Then I guess we'll have to go through," he smiled.
For the first time in their acquaintance Norine lost control of herself.
"We simply MUST find a boat. All he needs is proper care, proper food, and medical attention. Here we can get nothing. Why, the disappointment alone—" Her voice failed her, tears started to her eyes, and she began to tremble wretchedly. "If he—If I—lose him I'll die, too," she sobbed17.
O'Reilly tried to comfort her and she bowed her head upon his shoulder.
"Promise that you won't go back," she implored18 him.
"Very well, if you'll consent to risk this miserable19 tub we found on the beach—"
"I'll risk anything—a raft, even."
"It is large enough to carry us if we can manage to make it hold water, but it won't be safe. The weather is good at this season and it shouldn't take us long to run across to Andros if we have luck. If we don't have luck—"
Norine dried her eyes. "What would you do if you were alone? Would you dare try it?"
He hesitated, then confessed, "I think I would, but—"
"Is there an even chance of our getting across?"
"Perhaps. It all depends upon the weather."
"Can't we—build a boat?"
He shook his head. "Even if we had lumber20 and tools it would take too long. Ten miles to the east there are Spaniards. We must do one thing or the other quickly, before they learn we're here."
"Then let's go on. I'm sure Rosa will agree."
Rosa did agree. When her husband put the question fairly to her she showed by the pallor of her cheeks and by the rekindling21 light of terror in her eyes how desperately23 she feared remaining longer in this land of hate and persecution24. "Don't turn back," she cried. "I'm not the girl I was. I've endured so much here that—I'm always in fear. Anything would be better than going back."
When morning came O'Reilly made a closer examination of the abandoned boat. The result was not encouraging, and when he told Leslie of his intention to make use of it the latter stared at him in open amazement25.
"Why, we'll all be drowned!" Branch declared.
"You can return to Cubitas if you wish."
"Yes, and fight some more! No, thank you! I've got a hunch26 that I'll be killed by the very next gun I see."
"Then you'd better risk the sharks."
Jacket, who was conducting an independent examination of the craft, made an encouraging report. "Ho! I'd go 'round the world in this boat," said he. "She's rotten, and you can stick your finger through her, but fish have no fingers. When the water comes in we'll dip it out."
"Do you want to go with us?" Johnnie eyed the newspaper man curiously27.
"I—Y—yes!" Branch gasped28. "I'll go, but it's a shame to lose all of
Rosa's diamonds."
O'Reilly and one of the guides rode away to the farmhouse29 discovered on the previous afternoon, and returned in a few hours with all the tools they could find, together with a bucket of tar16 and a coil of galvanized wire. Then work began.
The wire, cut into short pieces, served as nails and staples30 with which to draw together the gaping31 seams. Old rags from the house and parts of the men's clothing supplied calking, upon which the tar was smeared32. While one man shaped mast and oars33, another cut Esteban's shelter tent into a sail, and fitted it. A stiff, sun-dried cowhide was wet, then stretched and nailed to the gunwales at the bow, forming a sort of forward deck to shelter the sick man from the sun and rain. Jacket climbed the near-by cocoa-palms and threw down a plentiful34 supply of nuts for food and water on the voyage.
With so many hands the work went fast, and late that evening the crazy craft was launched. It was necessary to handle her gingerly, and when she took the water she leaked abominably35. But during the night she swelled36 and in the morning it was possible to bail38 her out.
O'Reilly had to acknowledge himself but poorly pleased with the boat. Branch called her a coffin40 and declared it was suicide to venture to sea in her, an opinion shared by the Cubans, but the girls were enchanted41. To them this fragile bark looked stout42 and worthy43; they were in a fever to be gone.
On the second afternoon the trade-wind died to a gentle zephyr44, so the cocoanuts and other food were quickly put aboard, a bed of bows was rigged beneath the rawhide45 forecastle and Esteban was laid upon it. Then adieux were said and a start was made.
From the point of leaving it was perhaps five miles across the sound to the fringe of keys which in this neighborhood bordered the old Bahama Channel with its unplumbed depths of blue water. Here it was calm, so the run was soon made. The boat handled well enough, all things considered; nevertheless, to O'Reilly, her navigator, it was an anxious hour. Not only was he forced to keep a sharp lookout for blockading gunboats, but he feared he was doing wrong in committing his precious freight to the uncertainties46 of the Atlantic. Even had he been alone, with a crew of able sailors under him, this voyage would have daunted47 him, for it was without doubt the wildest adventure in which he had ever participated. When he hinted at these fears and put the matter before his companions for a final test, Branch refused to speak, but Esteban and the girls were earnestly in favor of pushing on. Jacket, of course, loudly seconded them.
At sunset they entered a pass and ran between low mangrove banks. The tide was ebbing48 and it hurried them through and out into the open sea, where they felt the lift of the mighty49 ocean swell37. Over these slow undulations the sailboat plowed50, heading toward the empty northern horizon, with the kindling22 Pole Star as a beacon51. The sky was clear, the sea was gently roughened by the night breeze, the constellations52 grew bright and appeared to hang low.
When the coast-line of Cuba had become a blur53 astern Rosa crept back and seated herself beside her husband.
"I breathe freely for the first time since that day when Don Mario came to offer me marriage," she told him. "The past is beginning to seem like a bad, bad dream and I feel a great hope, a great gladness. I am reborn, O'Rail-ye."
"A few hours more and we can all breathe easy." He smiled down at her. She laid her small palm over his fingers which grasped the steering-oar, whereupon he cried with pretended sternness: "Avast there! Don't distract the attention of the skipper or he'll sail his boat in circles. Look out or he'll send you below."
Rosa persisted mutinously54, so he punished her with a kiss planted fairly upon her pouting55 lips, whereupon she nestled closer to him. "How much I love you," she whispered. "But I never can tell you, for we are never alone. Was there ever such a courtship, such a marriage, and such a wedding journey as ours?"
"We're the owl39 and the pussy-cat who went to sea in a beautiful pea-green boat, 'With plenty of honey and lots of money, wrapped up in a ten-pound note.' Some day when we've settled down in our Harlem flat, and I'm working hard, we'll look back on this and cons............