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Updated: May 24, 2025
Nevertheless, seated so near each other, they were very quiet. Hurlstone could not tell whether it was the sea or the flowers, but the dress of the young girl seemed to exhale some subtle perfume of her own freshness that half took away his breath. She had scraped up a handful of sand, and was allowing it to escape through her slim fingers in a slender rain on the ground.
He had arrived at the crucial moment when Perkins' command were scattered along the seashore, and the dragoons had invested Todos Santos without opposition. Such was the story substantially told to Hurlstone and confirmed on his debarkation with the ladies at Todos Santos, the Excelsior being now in the hands of the authorities.
The pilot, whom Hurlstone recognized as the former third mate of the Excelsior, appeared to understand the passage perfectly; and even Hurlstone and the ladies, who had through eight months' experience become accustomed to the luminous obscurity of Todos Santos, could detect the faint looming of the headland at the entrance.
"But I confess to a singular fascination in the exercise of poetic composition, in instants of leisure like this a fascination which, as a man of imagination yourself, you can appreciate." "And I am sorry to find you here, Senor Perkins," began Hurlstone frankly; "but I believe it will not be for long."
But I'm going off to see the old barque out there in the fog. I'm going to chuck Perkins overboard and the two mates. Let me go." He struggled violently. Hurlstone, fearful of quitting his hold to release the fisherman, whom Captain Bunker no longer noticed, and not daring to increase the Captain's fury by openly calling to him, beckoned the pinioned man to make an effort.
In her limited but joyous knowledge of the world a knowledge gathered in the happy school-life of an orphan who but faintly remembered and never missed a parent's care she knew nothing of the mysterious dominance of passion, suffering, or experience in fashioning the outward expression of men, and saw only that Mr. Hurlstone was unlike any other. That unlikeness was fascinating.
Father Esteban took a huge pinch of snuff, examined Miss Keene attentively, and smiled a sad smile. The next day he begged Hurlstone to take a volume of old music to Miss Keene with his compliments. Hurlstone did so, and for some reason exerted himself to be agreeable. As he made no allusion to her rudeness, she presumed he did not know of it, and speedily forgot it herself.
He was watching the operation with what he began to fear was fatuous imbecility. "Miss Keene? I beg your pardon" "Mr. Hurlstone? Excuse me, you were saying" They had both spoken at the same moment, and smiled forgivingly at each other. Hurlstone gallantly insisted upon the precedence of her thought the scamp had doubted the coherency of his own.
"This is really a surprise, my dear fellow! I had no idea that YOU were in this affair. But I am delighted to welcome you once more to the Excelsior!" Amazed and disconcerted, Hurlstone, nevertheless, retained his presence of mind. "There must be some mistake," he said coolly; "I am certainly not the person you seem to be expecting." "Were you not sent here by Winslow?" demanded Perkins. "No.
Hurlstone," returned Perkins, with unruffled composure, "and, consequently, we will not argue as to what is the constituted authority of Todos Santos. Perhaps to-morrow it may be on board THIS SHIP, and I may still have the pleasure of making you at home here!" "Until then," said Hurlstone dryly, "at least you will allow me to repair my error by returning to the shore."
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