Read Wake of the Perdido Star Online
Authors: Gene Hackman
Wake of the Perdido Star (12 page)
Paul may have come to the same conclusion. He smiled at his adversary and took a step back. “Count de Silva, may I just say the following: âMen of means who use their wealth well will have sown the harvest of prosperity for all.' I am a guest in your home and I have been well served. Thank you and good night.”
Paul turned with Jack and they proceeded to leave the garden.
“Wait just a moment, little one.” The count lit his cigar and stood relaxed. “Who wrote that last quote? I'm not familiar with it.”
“Paul Le Maire. Cuba. Eighteen five,” Paul answered, without looking back.
Jack and Paul joined Ethan and Pilar.
At the end of the evening the count stationed himself at the door to bid farewell to his guests. As the O'Reillys approached, he bowed graciously.
“Would you be so kind as to wait just a few moments until the other guests have left? I'd have a word with you.” Jack observed the smoothness of the count's manner. He was repulsed; there was little except his title to distinguish him from his father's detractors in Hamden. But he could only stand patiently with his parents in the great hall, watching Paul make his way through the mass of people toward the count's well-stocked library, adjacent to the hall.
The exit from de Silva's villa seemed to be delayed by a young man, explaining to anyone who would listen how he was bringing ice in insulated ships into Cuba and other ports in the Caribbean. The guests were being polite, but most were anxious to leave.
Jack could see Paul still in the library; his back to him, hunched over what was probably some classic book. Jack called to him. Paul half turned and held up one finger to his mouth, then continued his quest. Finally, except for the O'Reillys, Paul, and the count, the great hall was empty.
“I'm so sorry to detain you like this, but something has arisen that is out of my control. There are many papers you will need to review and sign relating to your father's estate,” the count said.
The O'Reillys stood waiting apprehensively.
“Normally they would take two or three days to facilitate. I've just received news that this will probably not be the case.”
“But what is it that would take longer?” Pilar interrupted. “We understood the papers were in order.”
“It seems it's more complicated than that, and may take several weeks. There seems to be some question about the deeds to your land. Nothing to worry about. It is my suggestion that you stay in Habana until the papers are put right. You are welcome to stay in my home as long as you deem necessary.”
Paul rejoined them to overhear their last exchange. Had Paul gone too far in his baiting of the count, Jack wondered. It had been great fun, but there was still a lot to be settled between the count and his mother. Jack watched the count to see if the announcement of the delay was related in any way to the evening's events; to Jack's way of thinking it didn't seem to be.
Jack could tell his parents were puzzled at the news. With a certain resignation, the two thanked the count but stood awkwardly, unwilling to leave. Jack's unease about this man escalated, and he sensed his mother was wary, too. Although the nobleman appeared calm, Jack felt he was maneuvering them somehow.
“We are all pleased to accept your hospitality,” his mother said, “We would like to visit Matanzas Province tomorrow. I wish to see the land for myself. Would you arrange a carriage for us?”
The count seemed distracted as he walked them to the door. “Your carriage as the cock crows, señora?”
“Seven A.M. will be adequate, gracias.”
“Since it has been many years since you have seen the finca, may I provide you with a map?” Pilar nodded her thanks. With a snap of his fingers at a servant standing by, the count ordered pen and paper. On the large table in the foyer, he quickly sketched a map,
pausing only briefly toward the end before scratching an X on the wavy line of the diagram. “Excuse this crude article, but I think it will suffice.”
pausing only briefly toward the end before scratching an X on the wavy line of the diagram. “Excuse this crude article, but I think it will suffice.”
The count handed Jack the map. “Would you please hold this for your parents, señor?”
“Of course, with pleasure.”
De Silva then turned to Paul. “Will you be accompanying the O'Reillys on their journey tomorrow?
“No, that will not be my pleasure. I must continue my duties on the
Perdido Star
,” Paul answered simply.
Perdido Star
,” Paul answered simply.
“Pity.” The count grinned. To Pilar and Ethan he said, “Your carriage is here. I shall see you back at the villa shortly.” The couple nodded and made their exit, the two young men following.
During the ride back, Jack heard his father ask Pilar, “Why so thoughtful, dear? We will be guests in this house of plenty and we are on the eve of seeing your old homestead. And best of all,” he stated facetiously, “I'm on the verge of becoming a farmer. Working in the fledgling red cane fields from dawn to dusk. Plowing out an existence for my beautiful Pilar with the help of my willful son. Before long, the crops will be yielding a rich return.”
He abruptly ended his halfhearted attempt at humor, for his wife was weeping softly. “It is nothing, my love,” she said. “I am tired from the long trip.”
As the carriage came to a halt in front of the great doors of the villa, Jack asked Paul, “What do you say we take a stroll before heading to bed and troubled dreams?”
“Dreams are the stuff of life. Troubled or calm, it takes all kinds to be fulfilled.”
“Paul and I are going to walk awhile,” Jack told his father.
“Don't be long,” answered Ethan, as he helped his wife out of the coach. They bid farewell to Paul and went into the house.
The two young men walked in silence. “Do you think I went too far tonight?” Paul finally asked.
“Maybe a little. The count strikes me as dangerous. Still, that puffed up jackanape needed taking down a notch or two.”
There was a wonderful peace about the deserted streets. An occasional dog bayed in the distance. A window clicked nearby, closing against the cool night air. The moon cast a soft light over the white buildings, melting them into the cobblestone street. They were both lost in the night's events and failed to hear the whistle of the wind as two heavy boards struck them on the back of their heads.
Paul bowed at the waist then plowed face first into the street. Jack spun with the blow, instinct sending him crashing into the door of a shop, his hands protecting his face from another strike he knew was comingâhe could hear Paul's cry from the ground and wondered how badly his friend was hurt. The man who hit Jack immediately took another swing and missed; Jack caught the man's coat sleeve and twisted his arm quickly around in back of him. With a scream of pain, the man was forced to his knees. Using his free hand, Jack slapped him violently across his ear. The second assailant tried to swing at Jack without striking his fellow assassin.
Jack kicked out blindly and caught the man squarely in the groin. The attacker dropped his weapon and bent over, retching. Both men stumbled away in the dark street.
Jack caught up to the larger of the two men. “You're a clumsy fool,” he hissed in his ear. “If you're to survive as a thief, you must learn your trade.”
He spun the man around and with a resounding boot in the rear, sent him scurrying. The second man, his hands still dug deeply into his crotch, limped down the street; he looked back occasionally, shouting empty threats. When Jack took a couple of steps toward him, he dropped his belligerent attitude and hobbled after his vanishing partner. Paul sat up, blood streaming down his face.
“Are you all right?” Jack asked.
“Yes, of course. I've never felt better.” Paul breathed through swollen lips, rocking back and forth in a great deal of pain.
“I'm going to lift you. Are your ribs hurt?”
“No. Just my face, head, and pride.”
Jack helped Paul into a standing position. “Well, my friend, if you think you can make it, I'll walk you back to the
Star
.”
Star
.”
They started slowly toward the waterfront.
“It was a fine evening.” Jack said. “We've dined grandly, had an eyeful of beautiful women, a lively exchange with a count, and, best of all, been set upon by a pair of incompetent thieves.”
“I'd agree,” Paul said, cheering up. “The food was fine, the wine delicate, the women breathtaking, and the count a worthy adversary.” He brushed the dripping blood from his nose. “But those weren't thieves. Someone sent them to shut my uncontrollable mouth.”
“That seems a particularly violent attack just for an argument.” Jack looked quickly up the street; the ruffians had long since disappeared.
Paul rubbed a spot on the back of his head. “In any case, I think we can agree that the count doesn't take well to differences of opinion.”
Jack wondered if the count was responsible for this. If so, what else might he attempt in the weeks to come? He suddenly wondered if his parents had made it to the villa safely.
The two friends stopped at an intersection. They could see the
Star
's bow peeking from behind a building at the end of the street. Paul drew up his shirt and brought out two small books, tucked in by his belt.
Star
's bow peeking from behind a building at the end of the street. Paul drew up his shirt and brought out two small books, tucked in by his belt.
“I realize you've never read a book, O unlearned one, but the next time I see you, I'm going to quiz you on these.”
Jack brought the two books close to the lamplight:
Paradise Lost
and
The Pilgrim's Progress
. “
Paradise Lost
was required reading in school last year but I spent so much time helping Pa with the rifles that I never finished it.” He kicked a rock down the cobbled street, the noise reverberating off the buildings. “I envy
you, Paul, sailing away so blissfully. A part of me wishes I were going with you.”
Paradise Lost
and
The Pilgrim's Progress
. “
Paradise Lost
was required reading in school last year but I spent so much time helping Pa with the rifles that I never finished it.” He kicked a rock down the cobbled street, the noise reverberating off the buildings. “I envy
you, Paul, sailing away so blissfully. A part of me wishes I were going with you.”
“We'll probably be shoving off in a day or two.” Paul looked down, reluctant to go on. “I hate repeated good-byes, so why don't we say our adieus now. I'm sure I've created enough tension between your family and the count so the less I'm seen around the Hacienda del Bull Droppings the better. You've been a good friend. As for my sailing away, I, in fact, envy you, old friendâstarting a new life with people whom you have nothing in common with, working in the fields as a laborer from sunup to sundown. Feeling the rich earth in your hands, shoes, hair, and down the back of your neck . . . yes, I truly envy you. I, of course, will enjoy none of that. I'll be slaving away on some exotic South Sea island, being fanned by naked maidens as I weave baskets and drink coconut milk.”
“Nos divertimos como locos!” Jack laughed.
“Yes, a crazy time we've had, indeed. Au revoir.”
“Vaya con Dios.”
Paul ambled down the street toward the
Star
, Jack toward the villa. Jack clasped the two books to his hip. It had been a wonderful gesture on Paul's part. He wondered when Paul had the time to buy these booksâthen it came to him in an instant. That little thief! He stopped and laughed. Paul stole these from the count's library! Jack turned to shout at him but he had disappeared.
Star
, Jack toward the villa. Jack clasped the two books to his hip. It had been a wonderful gesture on Paul's part. He wondered when Paul had the time to buy these booksâthen it came to him in an instant. That little thief! He stopped and laughed. Paul stole these from the count's library! Jack turned to shout at him but he had disappeared.
Jack moved onto the street that led to the count's house and heard a sound in a doorway. A dark figure sitting in a narrow doorway and wearing filthy clothes sat on the floor swaying and mumbling.
“Pardon?” Jack stopped to listen.
“No viene hoy sino mañana.”
“Who's coming? ¿Quién?”
“Jesús.”
The figure continued to sway back and forth and Jack walked slowly away. After a dozen strides, he heard the words “¡Cuidado, mi amigo!”
“¿Cuidado?” Jack called back. “ âCareful' is my middle name, señor.” His mouth seemed suddenly dry.
W
ITH THE COUNT'S map in hand, Jack watched from his perch next to the driver as the surefooted Andalusian horses negotiated the ruts on the lonely road. The ripe scent of Cuba hung in the air. A brief rain had turned to steam and thickened the atmosphere; the fragrance of a multitude of tropical fruits and flowersâjasmine, mango, papayaâmingled with the smell of rich, wet earth.
ITH THE COUNT'S map in hand, Jack watched from his perch next to the driver as the surefooted Andalusian horses negotiated the ruts on the lonely road. The ripe scent of Cuba hung in the air. A brief rain had turned to steam and thickened the atmosphere; the fragrance of a multitude of tropical fruits and flowersâjasmine, mango, papayaâmingled with the smell of rich, wet earth.
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