174 On the trail of vanishing birds 



on, beneath rows of coconut palms that cast long, confused 

 shadows, until we found ourselves in the soft sand of the beach. 

 There we were met by our fisherman, who, having had a full 

 night's sleep, was all ready to be on his way. El capitdn, on the 

 other hand, was not feeling too spry, and both Arturo and I could 

 have done with a little more sleep. So, when el capitdn asked his 

 subordinate if we might not return to his home for coffee, ere 

 embarking on our perilous adventure, we were not unwilling. 

 Of course the marinero agreed cheerfully to haul his wife out of 

 bed again and have her make us some coffee. 



We entered the thatched-roof house and settled ourselves in 

 chairs in the living room, which had a wood floor, although the 

 floors in the bedroom and kitchen were of the original earth. 

 Senora mannero appeared, very pleasant and attractive, and there 

 was then a great deal of banging about of pots and pans in the 

 kitchen. While we were waiting, greatly subdued, el capitdn sat 

 with closed eyes, the corners of his mouth drawn down around 

 his sharp little chin, a picture of weariness and dejection. Arturo 

 asked him if he was asleep. "No," said the captain, "not asleep. 

 My eyes are closed for looking inside." Arturo then asked, "And 

 you don't like what you see?" The little man grinned wryly. "I 

 am supposed to be seeing red," he murmured, "but I see nothing 

 but black black coffee!" 



That coffee did wonders, and by the time we had also par- 

 taken of the hot milk and cocoa that followed, along with two 

 large rolls of crusty Cuban bread, we were ready for the contra- 

 banders. 



It was breaking day when we boarded the fishing boat, a narrow- 

 beamed little launch with an ancient 8-h.p. gasoline engine. 

 Having found ourselves places in the cockpit, we watched the 

 fisherman struggle patiently with the huge flywheel until, after 

 some delay, he had it turning over reluctantly. There were no 

 gears and we leaped ahead at once, narrowly missing a small sloop 

 anchored nearby. With the rhythmic chug-chug of the engine in 

 our ears, and a few last stars twinkling overhead, we crossed the 

 harbor and headed into the Golfo de Guacanayabo. Our ad- 

 venture had now really begun. 



