The Lieutenant had returned a few days before from a long tour of duty in the Canaries, and only that morning the light cruiser in which he had served had been paid off. After the introductions had been made and the Doctor had provided them with aperitifs, the question of the Lieutenant's prospects came up, and it transpired that these were very far from rosy.
The Spanish Navy had never fully recovered from the crushing defeat inflicted on it by Nelson at Trafalgar, and from that time, too, the once mighty Spanish Empire had begun to fall to pieces. Chunk after chunk of South America had revolted, thrown off the Spanish yoke and declared itself a Republic, so that by the 'nineties the only considerable colonies left to Spain, apart from the Canaries, were Cuba, Puerto Rico and the Philippines. This reduction of her Empire militated against any necessity for Spain to attempt again to build up a first class fleet, but with the introduction of ironclads she had continued to build and maintain a navy of the second rank. By 1898 many of its ships were in poor condition and their guns obsolete, although the navy was still a calling in which many thousands of sailors found a career. But then its death blow fell.
6o
Cuba, owing to the exactions and tyranny of a succession of Spanish Governor-Generals, had, for the previous twenty years, been in a state of semi-revolt, and during a good part of that time the great island had been rent by a series of bloody civil wars. In an attempt to suppress the rebels one General, known as 'Butcher' Weyler, had even gone to the length of destroying the insurgents' crops and houses and herding their non-combatant relatives into concentration camps. The United States, becoming alarmed for the big investments her citizens had made in Cuba, sent the battleship
War followed, and the American Pacific Squadron promptly destroyed the Spanish warships based on the Philippines. Although Spain's main fleet was ill-equipped and ill-munitioned, she at once dispatched it to the Caribbean. It reached Santiago safely but was there blockaded by a much more powerful American fleet. Meanwhile, the Americans had landed troops and were about to attack the city from its landward side. The Spanish Admiral, Cervera, decided that his honour demanded he should leave harbour and fight, although he knew his choice to be suicidal. His fleet was totally destroyed.
This annihilation of the Spanish Navy had occurred only eight years ago. Since then no new ships of any size had been built; so Lieutenant Aguilera had been extremely lucky to get his last posting in one of the few remaining cruisers. And as there were still hundreds of naval officers of experience intriguing to be given further sea service he had good grounds for fearing that he might never get another.
Over a hearty meal of
De Quesnoy, having had his own career as a soldier cut short, although for very different reasons, sympathized with him; but he became distinctly bored by the conversation as, despite several attempts by Senora Luque and himself, they seemed unable to get away from the subject.
In Spanish homes it is customary for guests not to linger for long after dinner; so having partaken of a small glass of Anis in the sitting-room, the Count made a move to leave. But the Senora waved him back to his chair and said:
'Don't go for a little while. You have not yet told us how you like Barcelona.'
4It is a beautiful city,' he replied politely, 'and I find the people most courteous and friendly. The old town appeals to me particularly, owing to my interest in history.'
'Have you visited the Cathedral?' asked the Lieutenant.
As de Quesnoy shook his head, the young man went on, 'You should, then. Not for its religious associations, as I gather from a remark you made at dinner you are not that way inclined. But in it is the huge crucifix that Don John of Austria had nailed to the mainmast of his flagship when he defeated the Turkish fleet at the battle of Lepanto.'
'Indeed!' the Count raised his eyebrows. 4Yes, I must certainly see that, for Lepanto was one of the decisive battles of the world.'
'I imagine,' the Doctor put in with a smile, 'that our friend has been too busy looking for a job to do much sightseeing.'
'Yes, indeed,' de Quesnoy agreed, 'but so far I have had no luck. As you may recall, I am hoping to find a post as a schoolmaster and that is not easy without the right kind of introductions.'
The Senora glanced at her husband and remarked, 'I wonder if Francisco Ferrer could help?'
De Quesnoy's face remained impassive, but his heart gave a jump. Ferrer's name stood at the very top of the mental list he had made of people whose activities he intended to investigate whilst in Barcelona. But he was too experienced a hunter to rush his fences. To have invented some excuse for introducing himself to Ferrer might easily have aroused the anarchist's suspicions, and he had not intended even to fish for an opening until he had been long enough in the city to have made many other acquaintances who would vouch for him as an enemy of established authority. Only then, perhaps towards the end of the following week, had he meant to go to the library that Ferrer ran and, by becoming a subscriber, open the way to a possible meeting. But it had been because Ferrer was a schoolmaster that he had elected to pose as a schoolmaster himself, hoping that their apparent community of interests might help him to establish relations with his quarry. Now it looked as if his idea was about to bear fruit. Praying that the Doctor's reply might be favourable, he held his breath while awaiting it. After a moment the mild-mannered little man said:
'Yes, my love. Ferrer might know of a post that would suit Senor Chirikov. We must arrange for them to meet.'
While refraining from showing any special enthusiasm, the Count bowed a courteous acknowledgement. 'For such an introduction I should be most grateful.'
'Most evenings Senor Ferrer takes an aperitif at the Cafe Ronda,' the Doctor went on. 'It lies in the Calle de Ronda about halfway between the Plaza de la Universidad and the Plaza de Cataluna. Would it be agreeable to you to meet me there at about six o'clock on .. . let us say Tuesday?'
'My time is still my own, so entirely yours.'
'Then I will get in touch with Ferrer and unless I let you know to the contrary we'll meet on Tuesday evening.'
With that understanding the Count thanked his hosts and took his departure. On his way home he marvelled that so lucky a break should have come from such an unexpected quarter; but, great as his hopes were of it producing concrete results, during the days that followed he did not neglect the cultivation of his acquaintances at the Somaten club.
On the Tuesday he arrived at the Cafe Ronda promptly on time and sat down at one of the tables on the pavement. Some twenty minutes later Doctor Luque arrived and they had hardly exchanged greetings when they were joined by a small dark man in his middle forties, who was wearing a panama hat and gold pince-nez. As he lifted his hat on being introduced to de Quesnoy the Count saw that he had an exceptionally high, narrow forehead. He spoke with the abrupt aggressiveness of a man suffering from an inferiority complex, and his glance from behind the thick-lensed eyeglasses struck de Quesnoy as slightly shifty. But he greeted the Doctor as an old friend, and on being told that the Count was a Russian political refugee shook hands with him warmly.
When drinks had been ordered 'Nicolai Chirikov' was called on to give an account of himself. As he had known Odessa well in his youth it was easy for him to talk of the city and the imaginary school there in which, according to his story, he had become a master. He had, too, meticulously worked out the details of his fictitious journey into exile, and from Valencia onwards Luque could vouch for it. His appearance, accent and the attitude of mind he displayed all contributed to the impression that he was a Russian, and from the outset it was clear that Ferrer never for a moment suspected him to be anything but what he made himself out to be.
After they had been talking for some while Ferrer asked de Quesnoy in what subjects he specialized, to which he replied 'History and literature and, of course, I could teach Russian.'
Ferrer pursed his thin-lipped mouth. 'I take it you mean Russian history.'
'Yes; although I am fairly well up in the history of other countries, particularly in so far as it has affected my own.'
