One afternoon, it was the third after Basilio's departure from the Tower on his expedition which had so fatally terminated, Donna Anita was sleeping upon the roof of her casa, for it was the hour of the siesta. Above her was an awning of blue silk fringed with silver, and gathered so as to exclude the sun on the western side. Her lovely head reposed upon a cushion of velvet rose-colored and werked in silken flowers of such exquisite beauty and truthfulness that her head seemed pillowed on living flowers. By her side sat a negreas, with soft round features, and lus trous black eyes, half-closed in sleep. In her hand she held a gorgeous fan of feathers of the bird of paradise, which she would slowly wave with a gentle motion above the head of the sleeper. A soft breeze blew from the sea, with just force enough to stir the pendulous leaves of a palm which grew at the corner of the house. The top of the house overlooked the forests, the bay, the islands and distant sea. Above the house-top full thirty feet higher rose the Vermilion Tower, a far-seen beacon both on land and sea. In the patio or court beneath, slept in the shade of the walls the slaves, and swinging in a hammock beneath an arch through which the cool wind circulated, was old Jose with a cigarito in his mouth, which he was trying to keep alight and keep asleep at the same time. All was still and wore that indolent air of repose and dreamy security which characterizes the interior of a Spanish house in that climate of luxurious indulgence.
The sea though its surface was calm yet rolled in toward the land huge underswells, glancing in the sun like vast cylinders of glass one revolving over the other; when, breaking upon the beach, they would burst into a myriad of crystals. The low sound of these waves reached soothingly the ears of Jose, and soon decided the contest between sleep and his cigar; for the latter fell from his lips while he sunk into deep slumber.
There had been the preceding night a terrific storm, to which the present agitation of the surface of the beaving Bay was owing. It was not an ordinary gale, but one of those wild, irresistable tornados, which in the hot months sweep the seas like a besom. This which had just taken place, was unusually fearful. The first hours of the night had been sultry and close, and although there was no clouds to be seen, not a star was visible; a dense steel-like atmosphere far above the region of clonds seemed to cover the sky. Not a breath of air stirred. Dona Anita placed the lightest feather of down upon the battlement and it rested there as motionless as lead. Jose as the sun had set had prophecied a hurricane, and now joined her to confirm and strengthen his opinion. A leaden hue rested upon the sea, and a singular blackness lay upon the forests. There was patches of dull light in the skies, but none could see by what they were proceeded? and occasionally a musky red glare would glow upon the cliffs surrounding the Bay.
Jose and Dona Anita sat up late upon the housetop watching the portentous signs and talking of the absent goleta, which had now been out three days. But Jose, calculating by the winds, gave it his opinion that she must before this time have doubled Cape St. Antonio, and by this have reached Havana. But Dona Anita's anxiety prevented her from taking encouragement. Just before the sun set a vessel had been seen to the South and Eastward, which Jose, by the aid of the glass made out to be a top-sail schooner, although her hull was hid beneath the convexity of the ocean line. The vessel they now thought of, and Dona Anita sent up many prayers for the mariners on board; for it was clear that the storm, if it should rise, would sweep over her. The thickening gloom of night hid the sails from view when she was about nine miles distant, standing to the West.
Towards eleven o'clock the steely hue of the heavens, gave place to a white appearance, which was not light nor a reflection from light, but a fearfully wild aspect of the skies which is indescribable. It spread over the sea and over the land, and without sun or moon or stars, there prevailed such dreadful light as mortal eyes quailed to look upon! It revealed no object! All around was as invisible as in the murky darkness of a few moments before. Gradually yet swiftly, the `light of hell,' as it is termed by the Islanders, rolled together in waves not unlike the undulations of the Aurora Borealis. It seemed to be seeking a focal centre, rather than to irradiate from one. It rolled off towards the south west, the blackness of darkness following in its train! It gathered in the sky in the south east in a vast field of light reddening as it condensed, until a fierce fiery eye burned in a single point above the horison, casting its baleful glare over the sea. This was the eye of the storm, `el ojo del hurican!'
Old Jose's experience, after seeing this, told him that it was now time for Dona Anita to seek shelter, and the casa to be closed. She, however, waited and lingered to watch the fearful progress of the tornado. The Ojo del hurrican became a deeper red mingled with changing violet hues as beautiful as they were terrible to look upon; then the violet became black, and the blackness formed it self into sable clouds which rolled in vas volumes, like smoke pouring from a crater, up the sky across the fiery centre, which, in a moment was enveloped and extinguished in a frightful chaos of night. All now was darkness impenetrable over sky, land and sea. Dona Anita could not see Jose, although he stood close at her side. The silence that reigned was appalling. The heart seemed to shrink and suppress its own beating as in sympathy with the universal stillness.
`Come, Senora—let us fly for safety?' whispered Jose hoarsely.
`Nay, one moment longer. This is awful. Hark! Do you not hear a roar! Look see that whiteness upon the sea!'
`'Tis the hurricane ploughing it up into fields of phosphorescent light. See how broadly it spread, and how rapidly it advances! Now the waters of the bay are seemingly on fire! God have mercy on any craft that is now abroad!'
`The roar is terrific! Let us fly!' cried Dona Anita clinging to the old man.
Scarcely had they disappeared from the azotea when with a noise like thunder rolling upon the earth, the tornedo leaped from the sea upon the land leaving a glittering track a league broad in its carreer as it came on. Hurled from their heights, rocks and trees flew through the air and plunged into the water! the forest bowed before it with a crash and uproar of sound that no words could convey any idea of. All at once it burst upon the tower and casa beneath. Stones from the battlements were shot through the air like feathers, and the foundation of the dwelling shook as if shaken by an earthquake. The rain descended amid sheets of flame, and thunder-peal followed thunder-peal with the noise of a ceaseless cannonading.
In two hours the tornado had passed away! the clouds rolled back! Stars glittered through openings to the blue sky, and the spent winds were lulled! Only the roar of the subsiding sea could be heard as it dashed lazily upon the beach which it had so lately lashed with terrific strokes.
Unable to rest Dona Anita and Jose once more ascended to the roof. The scene was wild but beautiful; and they stood a few moments gazing upon the serene heavens, in thankfulness for their escape.
`Alas, for the mariner,' said Anita. Some vessel must have been in the destroyer's path. I shudder at the fate of those on board!'
`No doubt, lady, the vessel we saw—the topsail schooner that hove in sight just before sun-down, and which looked to me like a schooner of war, I have little doubt, lady, but that she has gone down all standing! If she lay in the course of the hurricane she is sure to be lost! But the sea is the marriner's proper grave, and the snowy lap of the storm-wave his winding sheet!'
The day broke and the heaving of the sea was the only sign of the late tempest. This had not subsided even towards afternoon when Dona Anita and Jose are discovered enjoying their siesta as if nothing had transpired to alarm them for their safety. The smiling, though warm sun, the pearly clouds and gentle breeze were the features of serene weather, inviting to repose and tranquility. Old Jose had swung his hammock in the arch and left the door open towards the sea to catch the cool breeze as he indulged in his siesta and cigaritta. If he had been standing in the door which commanded a view of the pathway he might have seen a person slowly making his way up the rocks from the beach. As he came nearer he would have discovered that he was without a hat
, that his flowing locks of light brown were wet with the brine, and that his dress was also saturated with sea-water; which dress was a blue naval undress jacket, white pantaloons, and buff vest with the small anchor button; which button was also on his blue jacket. His feet were bare and lacerated, and his appearance fatigueworn. Had he seen all this, Jose would have set him down as a shipwrecked officer. But being fast asleep he saw neither his approach nor suspected it.
The young man, for he was not more than five or six and twenty, if so old, approached the open gate, across the entrance of which lay fast asleep a negro whom Jose had stationed there while he took his own repose. The wanderer gazed at the high walls and higher tower for a moment and then advanced to the gate. He paused a moment as he saw the black asleep, but stepping over him he passed beneath the arch. As he proceeded he saw Jose in his hammock; when finding him also asleep he passed beneath it and found himself in the patio or interior of the cása del canfa. He looked around him with an eye of curiosity and interest. He surveyed the sleeping slaves in the corners; the fountain with its refreshing waters; the orange and lemon trees; the tesselated pavement; the rose and crimson damask curtains of the long grated windows; the foliage of a hundred flowers waving in the soft breeze and the blue sky over all. As he leaned against a column to survey the place, in which he found himself, his appearance was greatly in his favor.
His person though not tall was commanding, although now bent a little with fatigue; but there was an air of refinement and high-breeding in his features and bearing that would have showed without the aid of his officer's undress uniform, that he was a gentleman, or as Jose afterwards observed, `un coballero noble .' His eye was a clear blue and expressive of courage and sensibility His countenance was altogether interesting, and invited confidence. Notwithstanding his present triste and disordered appearance he wore a cheerful look and tranquil manner.
`This place into which I have wandered seems to be the Castle of Sleep. Well, I need sleep more than food and will even yield to the potent influence of the spot. It will be time enough when these wake for them to find out who has intruded upon them and I to find out where I am. Upon the roof I see the top of a canopy. I will see if I can't find a cool shade beneath it where I can rest my weary limbs. With swimming and floating a mile, and walking two leagues over rocks and through forests, I am hardly able to mount the stairs. The inhabitants are probably asleep in their richly curtained chambers around, so I shall be undisturbed upon the flat roof. There are females here, for men never gather flowers around them like these. Perhaps young and beautiful senoritas. A pretty plight I am in to be presented.'
As he spoke he left the column and ascended a broad flight of stone stairs that led to an interior balcony, from which by a half a dozen more steps he reached the azotea or flat roof. It was spacious and running all around the patio, with the tower rising at one angle. In the shadow of the tower, was the awning, the canopy of which he had seen from below. It was but a few feet distant from him. Beneath its folds of azure silk he discovered half hidden, the sleeping form of Anita, with the slave seated by her couch also asleep! He stood still in an attitude of surprise! He gazed and then advancing a step continued to gaze. One cheek and side of her face, was presented to his view. He stood entranced by its perfection. A gentle glow warmed the delicate olive, and her rusty lips were pouted with the beautiful voluptuous swell of a child's. Her dark lashes lay in long and surving fringes upon the cheek, and a tress of her dark hair slept upon her snowy hand, which by the contrast looked like an exquisite piece of alabaster work. The elegant undulating outline of her figure was perceptible in all its bewildering beauty, and a small foot, from which the slipper had fallen, of the most lovely symmetry and diminutiveness, was visible peeping beneath the vague folds of the canopy.
He gazed with clasped hands in silent wonder! He approached with noiseless tread— nigher—nigher—and nigher still, emboldened by the deep sluumber that had fallen upon on her and upon the slave. He stood and bent over her. He had forgotten his fatigue, his bleeding feet! He traced the sculptured outline of the faultless profile, the statue-like beauty of the lovely head and moulded arm! The expression of her face, too, charmed his soul.
`Never have I beheld mortal beauty like this,' he exclaimed. `If I were an idolater this should be the object of my heart's worship. Who can she be? What strange thread of destiny have guided me hither! I have found here my heart's ideal! At this shrine shall terminate my heart's pilgrimage. She moves! I will retire! Sleep is ready to overpower me. I will recline here within the shadows of this strange old red tower, for I would have my last gaze upon her that she may mingle in my dreams. Sleep! my eyes are already closing! Great will be her surprise on awaking to find me sleeping not far from her! But I can remove no farther!'
He laid his head upon the pedestal of a gigantic orange tree jar, and the next moment was buried in profound sleep.
CHAPTER VIII.
The discovery—The impression made by the stranger upon the lovely hostess—The narrative of the shipwrecked—The hospitality of Donna Anita—The growth of love—The young stranger ensnared—A struggle between passion and duty.
The sun descended low in the west behind a terrace of purple and silver-gold clouds, above which his prismatic colored beams radiated to the zenith. Gold was every where! upon the cliff-edge; upon the tops of the forests; upon the battlements of the tower; upon the clouds and upon the sea. All was gold mingled with purple. The breeze set in cool and pleasantly, and already lifted in its increasing strength the silken folds of the canopy beneath which Donna Anita slept. The same wind that tossed her dark curls awoke the negress, who began with great diligence to fan away with her gorgeous crest of feathers. The cool air upon her cheek banished sleep and opening her large dreamy eyes, Donna Anita awoke also. She sat up, throwing back her cloud of hair from her forehead, and casting her eyes round upon the glorious sunsetting, gazed upon it a few moments with calm delight.
`You have let me sleep long, Linda. The day is nearly closed. You look so bright you have been asleep too.'
`Dat must be true, missus, coz leetle bit 'go de sun up dar, and den I look agin ony a minnit and dare he be.'
`How lonely without my brother! I am delighted he is to bring home with him a bride. She will then be a companion for me in his absences. Come let us go down to the sala!'
`Madre de Dios!' cried the negress in alarm her eyes resting on the young man who was lying fast asleep a few feet distant.
`What do you see?' cried her mistress looking in the direction of the slave's gaze. `Santa Maria! A stranger! Asleep upon the Azotea!'
She rose to her feet, thrust her little foot into her slipper and gathering her mantilla about her form was about to fly. But he slept calmly and tranquilly. If he meant ill he would not lie there buried in profound repose. If he were an enemy he would not place himself in the power of his foe.
Such were the thoughts that passed rapidly hrough her mind as with her eyes fixed upon him in alarm and half-flying, she arrested her flight. His pale face, his noble countenance, his fair complexion and light brown hair that showed him to be from a northern land, his garments evidently wet with sea-water the salt brine of which encrusted his locks, the quiet, deep sleep in which he was sunk, all pleaded to her in his behalf. She paused and then timidly approached him. She stood still, and gazed upon him as he had upon her while she slept. As she looked and thought that perhaps he was a shipwrecked sailor who had sought asylum here, she felt a tender interest for him, and compassion took the place of fear. Yet how he came to lie upon the azotea she was at a loss to imagine. In a low voice she bade her slave go down and awake Jose. But this worthy at the same instant made his appearance at the head of the stairs.
`How is this, Jose?' How come this young man here?' she asked.
`Nombre de dios! how came he here sure enough!'
`Don't speak so loud! Don't wake him! Do you know who he may be?'
`It may be a robber or a loyalist
come as a spy. I had best run him through before he wakes up and mischief come of it.'
`No, Jose! He seems to be a foreigner! An Ingles, or Americano. Go softly near and see if you can decide for me who and what he is.'
Jose obeyed advancing on tip-toe, but with his staff advanced like a pike to be ready to meet any sudden hostile demonstrations.
`Es caballero, senora,' he answered after a moment's scrutiny; `and he is an officer in the American navy. I know the button. I have seen them often in Havana. The little gold stripe on his shoulder shows that he is a lieutenant. That much I can make out.'
`I am so happy he is an American,' said Donna Anita, with carnestness; I love the Americans. They are friends of liberty. He must be taken care of when he awakes. But how came he here, Jose?'
`I do not know, senora, unless that he came in past me and Fingo who both fell asleep leaving the sea gate open to let the sea breeze and picaroons too, come in, for that matter! It's a mercy they didn't carry us off casa and all!'
`It is dangerous in these times, when pirates are so thickly abroad and even coming into the Bay, to leave the Quinta so exposed.'
`I will not be guilty of it again, senora. He must have come in and come up here to sleep, knowing the custom here of taking our siesta upon the house-top. But it is a wonder no one saw him. But as we were all asleep we couldn't. He must be honest or he would have robbed us. No—he is no robber. His dress is already wet and with the sea. He looks like a man who has been swimming. We have not forgotten the hurricane of last night, senora, that we should ask how he came here! He has been shipwrecked and wandered hither for shelter! I will wake him, senora! He can then tell his own story.'
Steel Belt; or, The Three Masted Goleta. A Tale of Boston Bay Page 8
