Polly's Southern Cruise

“Yes, Polly, I agree with you. We will say our goodbys now, friends, and hurry away from here,” replied Mrs. Courtney.

The farewells were not prolonged, therefore, and Tom found he was short-circuited in his plans to have a lover’s tête-à-tête with the girl he adored so devotedly. John and Anne had their good hugs and kisses from Polly, and then she turned quickly to Tom and extended her hand.

“Goodby, Tom, old friend. Take good care of Anne and see that she doesn’t worry herself to a frazzle over Elizabeth Dalken and her social tricks.” With a hasty shake of his hand, Tom found Polly was running away to the rear end of the yacht where she could enter without coming face to face with any one coming from the main door.

Mrs. Courtney had said her farewells and was following Polly when Mr. Dalken came from the door which opened to the saloon. Elizabeth was closely veiled and dressed in a plain tailormade suit. Without a spoken word to any one she went directly to the stairs that led down to the wharf. The other four adults followed her and soon all were seated in the waiting limousine.

Polly could not help peeping out from her retreat at the back entrance to the companionway, and when she saw the automobile drive away she sighed with relief. “There go the two troubles of my life – one whom I despise, and one whom I am not sure about adoring or hating!”

From this honest confession of Polly’s it can be readily surmised that she was not head over heels in love with Tom.

In less than half an hour’s time Mr. Dalken came on board his yacht again and immediately gave orders to sail. Even as the Captain obeyed and placed the distance of a rod or so between the craft and the pier, a sprinting reporter reached the wharf to take a snap-shot of the White Crest.

Mr. Dalken watched him with grim satisfaction. He then murmured to himself: “Well, that’s all you got out of your run!”

Later he remarked casually to Polly and Mrs. Courtney, when they happened to be alone after luncheon: “Our friends just caught the Express as it was about to pull out. The conductor saw us making for it and he very obligingly held up the train a moment. Naturally, no one was present to interview us about this hasty departure for the North, and only one solitary reporter saw me returning in the car. He failed to reach me in time!”

But their host did not add that he had used every influence possible to insure the success of his plan: to reach the train at the very minute of departure, and then see his daughter off before she could get in touch with any friends at Palm Beach. The conductor exchanged a friendly but knowing look with the financier as the four travelers boarded the train, and Mr. Dalken stood watching it pull out.

“Well, children, now we’re off on the second lap of our adventures,” laughingly called Mr. Dalken, as he waited in vain for a remark to his last statement. His happy tone then brought forth glad and eager questionings as to Cuba, Hayti, and the other Isles of the West Indies.

CHAPTER VII – THE HAVANA RACE COURSE

As the yacht danced on its way to Havana, the voyagers began to take a renewed interest in the cruise. At first the departure of four of the party caused a dignified silence, particularly as Elizabeth Dalken’s going had been brought about by her recent disgrace and her father’s intense displeasure. It created rather an uncomfortable feeling when the guests all went on deck that noon.

John Baxter and his chum decided that this atmosphere must be dispelled immediately, hence they began their self-appointed task and soon had every one merry and eager to forget the unpleasantness of the previous night’s experience.

Havana proved to be a great fund of excitement and fun for the young members in the party; John Baxter had spent several weeks in that hospitable city and knew just where to go and what to see, hence the day was given to every kind of sightseeing. That evening Jack returned his party to the yacht, and proposed another visit to the city on the morrow. Mr. Dalken listened.

“They’re going to have one of their famous horse races at the big course to-morrow, Dalky, and I told your guests that it would be well worth seeing. Even if they do not bet on the horses, they will enjoy seeing the stunts the natives do in order to get in first. Let’s tie up to this wharf until to-morrow night, instead of going on our way to-night.”

As the vote showed the majority were inclined to stop over for the races, the Captain was notified that the yacht would not resume her trip until the next evening.

That night, after dinner had been enjoyed on deck, Mr. Dalken proposed a stroll through the “White Light Way” of Havana. This was received with acclaim and in another moment the ladies were gone for their hats and light evening wraps. Soon all were walking up the street leading from the pier, and eagerly discussing the change in the looks of the city by night.

Half the people they met were visitors from the States, and most of those were from New York, or the large cities of the Atlantic coast states. Everywhere on bill-boards, on walls of buildings, and up high on the roofs of houses, the advertising of the morrow’s horse racing was posted. Now and then the men in the party were accosted and invited to book their wagers for the races. But Mr. Dalkin shook his head and advised John and Ray to refuse all offers to double and triple their gains by booking that night.

After visiting many interesting places, the yacht-party entered a famous cafe for supper. Dancing in all of its wildest and most sensuous forms was demonstrated by Spanish beauties with little idea of propriety; the very abandon of their poses and the flashing glances they sent the American men in the visiting parties proved how faint were the ties that held them to respectability.

“Shall we try a dance?” asked Jack Baxter of Polly. She glanced at Mrs. Courtney with a questioning expression.

“Better not, Jack. These dancing girls and their Spanish cavaliers are only too willing to pick an acquaintance with any one who appears to have money. Dancing here might prepare the way for familiarity, for you actually descend to their plane in taking the floor while they are on it,” advised Mrs. Courtney.

“That sounds a little far-fetched, Lady Fair, but I will abide by your commands,” laughed Jack, though he was keen to get out on the superb floor and dance to the inspiring music.

Not five minutes later Mrs. Courtney had her quiet little revenge on Jack for his light laugh at her advice.

Ray and Eleanor had not waited to hear Mrs. Courtney’s hint about dancing, and had enjoyed the waltz to the utmost till the orchestra concluded the piece. An encore loudly continued induced the musicians to resume the waltz. But a handsome Spaniard approached Eleanor who was standing with Ray at one end of the hall, and bowing politely offered his arm to finish the dance with her.

Eleanor flushed confusedly and Ray haughtily stared at the daring young man, then turned on his heel and tried to escort Eleanor to her party which was seated at one of the balcony tables. Polly, Jack, and Mrs. Courtney were watching the episode, and Polly murmured: “Glad I wasn’t in Noll’s shoes! I’d have spoken my mind to the fellow.”

No sooner had Eleanor found her friends than Mrs. Courtney got up and said: “Are we ready to return to the White Crest?”

And those who had witnessed the incident of Eleanor’s experience with the strange Cuban man instantly followed Mrs. Courtney’s lead.

The next day proved to be one of almost unbearable tropical heat. The tourists found it necessary to drive to the race-course in rickety old carriages, because Jack had forgotten to engage automobiles for his party and other American sportsmen had anticipated the demand and had commandeered every form of auto to be found.

Mid merry jests and amused calls to each other, the girls managed to finally dispose themselves in the worn-cushioned, shaky seats of the century old victorias, and at last Jack decided they were ready to start.

As these vehicles carry but few passengers at a time, it was necessary for so large a party to have four carriages, one after the other, as in a parade. The dark drivers grinned and displayed glistening white teeth at the wind-fall which would come their way that day, in driving these New Yorkers to the races.

The Dalken party was rattled along under long avenues of bamboo trees; past crowds of native holiday makers dressed in all their gala finery, who waved and shouted joyously at every passing vehicle; through banana plantations where the road led over slight knolls, or down through woods to ford a stream where the wheels of the laden carriages threatened to sink to the hubs in sand; then up again and over a dusty road where the heavy hoofs of the lazy horses caused choking clouds of dust to settle upon the passengers crowded so uncomfortably in the small equipages.

Finally the leading carriage in which sat Jack and Polly, with Mrs. Courtney as chaperone, reached a fenced in area where a number of uniformed guards tried to keep peepers from securing their view of the races for nothing. The darky driver knew exactly where to halt, and then he held out his hand for his fee.

“You wait here where we can find you after the races,” said Jack, without a move to take any money from his pocket.

“Ah, no! You get drive here, me get money for it,” retorted the driver.

“But I hired you for the entire afternoon! You have only fulfilled part of the contract. When you deliver us at the wharf I pay in full,” explained Jack.

Meanwhile Mr. Dalken had been having the same experience, but he paid the fee without stopping to consider the reason for the untimely demand. Finally, Jack’s driver capitulated and resigned himself to the inevitable, and his three passengers hurriedly joined the rest of their party.

Jack came up just as Mr. Dalken counted out the last bill.

“Good gracious, Dalky! Don’t tell me you paid him!” called Jack, impatiently.

“The fellow was ready to call one of those ridiculous policemen over and arrest me,” explained Mr. Dalken.

“He’d have done nothing of the sort! Now you will have to walk back or crowd in with us. That rascal will hang about here until after the races end, then pick up the highest bidder for his rickety old chaise back to the city. If he had been made to wait for his fee he would have been too glad to take you back as agreed upon.”

“Never mind, Dalky, you shall sit upon my knee!” laughed Eleanor, teasingly.

“You may regret this kindly offer, Nolla, when the long dusty trip begins,” retorted Mr. Dalken.

But further argument on the situation was interrupted by a vendor of cocoanut juice. Closely following this peddler came a bookmaker who had been forbidden an entrance to the course. He was sent the way of the vendor of drinks; and then came a gayly garbed black who invited the party to win great stakes at a new game – but it was merely a decoy of the three-card monte gamble.

Accompanied on both sides by barkers for refreshments, by touts, and by every sort of vendor of anything salable, the Dalken party finally found it possible to reach the entrance gate. Soon after passing through here, the troublesome peddlers were left behind, but a new form of buzzard came to annoy. These were the professional bookmakers and licensed gamblers who hoped to turn a dishonest dollar their way.

In threading a trail to the Grand Stand, Jack led his party past family groups that sat under the trees and picnicked gayly until the gong should call all to the roped-off line that marked the course. The Grand Stand, painted white and decked in many-hued flags of friendly nations, was reached after many side-steppings and turns. Here the girls found army officers, professional men from Havana, and a tableau of fashionably dressed women with fans and parasols galore.

As the horses were paraded past the Grand Stand, and their gayly decked black jockeys acknowledged the waving hands and applause of the ladies to their favorites in the race, Polly turned to Eleanor and said: “Dear me, I wish I could bet!”

“You can,” returned Eleanor. “Let’s call Jack and tell him.”

Jack heard and grinned. “Which is your favorite, Poll?”

“See this one on the programme – his name is Will o’ the Wisp. Such a pretty name!”