Her Reputation by Talbot Mundy

Affairs in Cuba might be -- usually are -- and were, in point of fact, precarious. Not even a Calverly-Calhoun may mortgage an estate however rich, pay ten percent interest, endure one hurricane, one drought, and one year's blight, entrust the management of the estate to an alien -- and not face consequences. However, one can sometimes postpone settlement, especially if one happens to be twenty-seven, with a letter in one's pocket that has stirred the very lees of urgency and therewith, too, the poison of inborn recklessness.

So bankers in Havana locked new notes away, and Jack Calhoun paced the deck of a New Orleans-bound steamer, wishing whip and spurs might take the place of coal. It was a slow boat -- just his luck! -- crawling along with the hose on a hot main-bearing and a screen of seaweed like a petticoat. But the smoking-room was good enough -- capable steward and plenty to drink -- with a scattering of passengers less impatient than himself, whose conversation served at intervals to help pass time.