The Five Arrows Part 9

"_Jamon y huevos._ Want some?"

"Uh huh. But I want to order them myself."

"O.K. Order some for me, too." Hall hissed for the waiter.

"What's the idea of razzing the guy?"

"Relax, that's the way you call a waiter."

Jerry smiled at the waiter when he reached their table. With a childish directness, she pointed first at Hall and then to herself. "_Jamon y huevos_," she said.

"That is all the Spanish the senorita speaks," Hall explained. "I think we will have toast and coffee, too."

"Well, well," the waiter said in accented English. "The lady speaks good, no?"

"No," Jerry laughed.

"Well, well," the waiter said, "today is very nice and sunny. Very nice." He walked into the kitchen.

"I have a perfect itinerary," Hall said. "Old San Hermano first; that's the historic colonial part of the city. Then, at noon, we take the funicular railway to the top of the world for lunch. And after that--well, well, well, as the waiter said."

They walked about San Hermano all morning. Hall showed her through the old fortress of the Duke of La Runa, which the government had restored after Segura was overthrown, told her about the early colonial history of the city. They sat on the old sea wall for a few minutes, while Hall pointed out the Moorish and Spanish details of the stone houses along the sea drive above the wharves. The youngest of the houses was a century old; the tile friezes along their bellies had all been imported from Spain in sailing s.h.i.+ps. Jerry watched the sun do magic tricks of blue and purple on the surface of the houses. They wandered through the old market places, deserted that day, but colored by the little stalls along the sidewalks. Hall bought a large spray of gardenias for the girl from an itinerant vendor.

"Where are those beaten-silver things you told me about?" she asked.

"Later," he said. "There's plenty of time for that."

"Where do we go now?" Jerry asked. "My feet are killing me."

"From now on we ride." He found a taxi parked near the Cathedral, and they rode to the funicular railway terminal at the base of Monte Azul.

He told her how the railway was built by Segura, as they rode. "But it was when the Tabio junta threw the Seguristas out that the d.a.m.ned cable cars meant anything to the people of the country themselves. You see, Jerry, Segura gave the concession on top of the mountain to one of his thugs. The new regime opened it up to the little guys. And wait till you see what they did to the grounds."

They shared the cable car with an old water colorist, and two other young couples. "My G.o.d," Jerry exclaimed, when she saw the route the cars followed, "it's like climbing hand over hand up a sheer cliff!"

"Don't worry. It's perfectly safe. In a way, though, I'm sorry this is such a clear day. On a cloudy day, the tracks just vanish into the soup up there, and you feel that you are being towed into the clouds."

The cars climbed for five miles, creaking, whining, grunting, but steadily pus.h.i.+ng on toward the peak. From the opened windows, Jerry could see the Moorish villas at the base of the mountain, then their red-tiled roofs, then the miles of scraggly wild orange trees. The sweet, heavy odors of their blossoms filled the car.

"Oh, look," she said, "the town is getting smaller. And the sea is growing bluer."

"Wait until we get off," he smiled. "Then you'll really see something."

The old artist took out a sketch pad, studied Jerry's excited face, and made some quick strokes with a charcoal stick. Hall winked at the old man. "_Hola, viejo. Que pasa?_"

"_La mujer es muy bonita._"

"_Muchas gracias_, Senor. _Es verdad._"

"What are you saying to him?" Jerry asked.

"He said you are very beautiful and I said that's the Lord's gospel truth. He's sketching you, I think."

"Can we buy it if it's good?"

"I'll speak to him later. Up there."

The car stopped at the terminal on the man-made plateau about a thousand feet from the actual tip of Monte Azul. A wooden rail ran along the edge of the plateau for about a quarter of a mile. Within the rail was the funicular terminal, a souvenir stand, a tiny post office, and a large open-air restaurant.

"Let's eat," Hall said. "You get hungry as a horse up there."

They took a table with an enameled orange top near the rail. Large barbecue pits hugged the mountain side of the restaurant, and under a shed roof three cooks presided over a row of steaming pots. From their table, they could see the mile-deep belt of mountain flowers which had been planted in the days of the dictators and expanded by the democrats.

There were flowers of every shape and color, but orange was the color which spoke most frequently in the cultivated beds. Below the flowers, the mountainside seemed to be daubed with various shades of green and brown. "But usually," Hall said, "the mountain is blue. Almost as blue as the sea."

Jerry looked down at the sea. "I've never seen such a deep blue," she said.

"I know. This is the bluest water in the world." He hissed for a waiter.

"I'm going to order a h.e.l.l of a meal, young lady. A side of barbecued beef and some corn cakes the like of which you never tasted and--just trust my judgment."

"Can we get drinks here?"

"They have a white wine that beats anything in France."

The food was good and the wine was potent. When they were done eating, Jerry wanted more wine. "No more wine," Hall smiled. "Nibble on this cheese, and while you're nibbling I'm going to order a punch I've just composed in honor of this day. Let's call it Punch _Para Las Mujeres Bonitas_."

"Whatever that means," Jerry said, dreamily.

"Oh, it's wonderful. Black rum and pa.s.sion-flower juice and tamarinda and wild cherry juice and--just wait. I'll be right back." He walked across the plateau to the outdoor bar and had a long discussion with the attendants.

Jerry was staring into the sea when he returned. "You know?" she sighed.

"What?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking that I've been looking at the sea and not thinking at all."

"Cigarette?"

"Uh huh. Thanks for taking me up here. It reminds me of something nice, but I can't think of what."

"I know," Hall said. "The minute you get here for the first time you feel as if you've known this place all your life."

The waiter brought a pitcher of scarlet punch and two tall gla.s.ses to the table. Hall paid the check, and added a package of American cigarettes to his tip.

He filled the two gla.s.ses, tried a sip from his before handing one gla.s.s to the girl. "Let's see how this strikes you," he smiled.

"It's delicious!"

"Finish it and then try walking," Hall said, dryly.

"We'll try walking later." They finished the punch in the pitcher, and then Jerry looked at her face in a pocket mirror.