CHAPTER XXIVTHE ALTERED SAILING LIST
When dinner was over, Dick sat by himself in a quiet spot on the liner’s quarter-deck. There was a tall, iron bulwark beside him, but close by this was replaced by netted rails, through which he caught the pale shimmer of the sea. The warm land-breeze had freshened and ripples splashed against the vessel’s side, while every now and then a languid gurgle rose from about her waterline and the foam her plates threw off was filled with phosphorescent flame. A string band was playing on the poop, and passengers and guests moved through the intricate figures of a Spanish dance on the broad deck below. Their poses were graceful and their dress was picturesque, but Dick watched them listlessly.
He was not in a mood for dancing, for he had been working hard at the dam and his thoughts were disturbed. Clare had refused him, and although he did not accept her decision as final, he could see no way of taking her out of her father’s hands, while he had made no progress towards unraveling the latter’s plots. Kenwardine was not on board, but Dick had only seen Clare at some distance off across the table in the saloon. Moreover, he thought she must have taken some trouble to avoid meeting him.
Then he remembered the speeches made by thevisitors at dinner, and the steamship officers’ replies. The former, colored by French and Spanish politeness and American wit, eulogized the power of the British navy and the courage of her merchant captains. There was war, they said, but British commerce went on without a check; goods shipped beneath the red ensign would be delivered safe in spite of storm and strife; Britannia, with trident poised, guarded the seas. For this the boldly-announced sailing list served as text, but Dick, who made allowances for exuberant Latin sentiment, noted the captain’s response with some surprise.
His speech was flamboyant, and did not harmonize with the character of the man, who had called at the port before in command of another ship. He was gray-haired and generally reserved. Dick had not expected him to indulge in cheap patriotism, but he called the British ensign the meteor flag, defied its enemies, and declared that no hostile fleets could prevent his employers carrying their engagements out. Since the man was obviously sober, Dick supposed he was touting for business and wanted to assure the merchants that the sailings of the company’s steamers could be relied upon. Still, this kind of thing was not good British form.
By and by Don Sebastian came down a ladder from the saloon deck with Clare behind him. Dick felt tempted to retire but conquered the impulse and the Spaniard came up.
“I have some business with the purser, who is waiting for me, but cannot find my señora,” he explained, and Dick, knowing that local conventions forbade his leaving Clare alone, understood it as a request thathe should take care of her until the other’s return.
“I should be glad to stay with Miss Kenwardine,” he answered with a bow, and when Don Sebastian went off opened a deck-chair and turned to the girl.
“You see how I was situated!” he said awkwardly.
Clare smiled as she sat down. “Yes; you are not to blame. Indeed, I do not see why you should apologize.”
“Well,” said Dick, “I hoped that I might meet you, though I feared you would sooner I did not. When I saw you on the ladder, I felt I ought to steal away, but must confess that I was glad when I found it was too late. Somehow, things seem to bring us into opposition. They have done so from the beginning.”
“You’re unnecessarily frank,” Clare answered with a blush. “Since you couldn’t steal away, wouldn’t it have been better not to hint that I was anxious to avoid you? After all, I could have done so if I had really wanted.”
“I expect that’s true. Of course what happened when we last met couldn’t trouble you as it troubled me.”
“Are you trying to be tactful now?” Clare asked, smiling.
“No; it’s my misfortune that I haven’t much tact. If I had, I might be able to straighten matters out.”
“Don’t you understand that they can’t be straightened out?”
“I don’t,” Dick answered stubbornly. “For all that, I won’t trouble you again until I find a way out of the tangle.”
Clare gave him a quick, disturbed look. “It wouldbe much better if you took it for granted that we must, to some extent, be enemies.”
“No. I’m afraid your father and I are enemies, but that’s not the same.”
“It is; you can see that it must be,” Clare insisted; and then, as if anxious to change the subject, went on: “He was too busy to bring me to-night so I came with Don Sebastian and his wife. It is not very gay in Santa Brigida and one gets tired of being alone.”
Her voice fell a little as she concluded, and Dick, who understood something of her isolation from friends of her race, longed to take her in his arms and comfort her. Indeed, had the quarter-deck been deserted he might have tried, for he felt that her refusal had sprung from wounded pride and a sense of duty. There was something in her manner that hinted that it had not been easy to send him away. Yet he saw she could be firm and thought it wise to follow her lead.
“Then your father has been occupied lately,” he remarked.
“Yes; he is often away. He goes to Adexe and is generally busy in the evenings. People come to see him and keep him talking in his room. Our friends no longer spend the evening in the patio.”
Dick understood her. She wanted to convince him that Kenwardine was a business man and only gambled when he had nothing else to do. Indeed, her motive was rather pitifully obvious, and Dick knew that he had not been mistaken about her character. Clare had, no doubt, once yielded to her father’s influence, but it was impossible that she took any part in hisplots. She was transparently honest; he knew this as he watched her color come and go.
“After all, I don’t think you liked many of the people who came,” he said.
“I liked Jake,” she answered and stopped with a blush, while Dick felt half ashamed, because he had deprived her of the one companion she could trust.
“Well,” he said, “it isn’t altogether my fault that Jake doesn’t come to see you. We have had some accidents that delayed the work and he has not been able to leave the dam.”
He was silent for the next few minutes. Since Clare was eager to defend Kenwardine, she might be led to tell something about his doings from which a useful hint could be gathered, and Dick greatly wished to know who visited his house on business. Still, it was impossible that he should make the girl betray her father. The fight was between him and Kenwardine, and Clare must be kept outside it. With this resolve, he began to talk about the dancing, and soon afterward Jake came up and asked Clare for the next waltz. She smiled and gave Dick a challenging glance.
“Certainly,” he said with a bow, and then turned to Jake. “As Miss Kenwardine has been put in my charge, you must bring her back.”
Jake grinned as he promised and remarked as they went away: “Makes a good dueña, doesn’t he? You can trust Dick to guard anything he’s told to take care of. In fact, if I’d a sister I wanted to leave in safe hands——” He paused and laughed. “But that’s the trouble. It was my sister who told him to take care of me.”
Dick did not hear Clare’s reply, but watched herdance until Don Sebastian’s wife came up. After that he went away, and presently strolled along the highest deck. This was narrower than the others, but was extended as far as the side of the ship by beams on which the boats were stowed. There were no rails, for passengers were not allowed up there; but Dick, who was preoccupied and moody, wanted to be alone. The moon had now risen above the mountains and the sea glittered between the shore and the ship. Looking down, he saw a row of boats rise and fall with the languid swell near her tall side, and the flash of the surf that washed the end of the mole. Then, taking out a cigarette, he strolled towards the captain’s room, which stood behind the bridge, and stopped near it in the shadow of a big lifeboat.
The room was lighted, and the door and windows were half open because the night was hot. Carelessly glancing in, Dick saw Don Sebastian sitting at the table with the captain and engineer. This somewhat surprised him, for the purser transacted the ship’s business and, so far as he knew, none of the other guests had been taken to the captain’s room. He felt puzzled about Don Sebastian, whom he had met once or twice. The fellow had an air of authority and the smaller officials treated him with respect.
Something in the men’s attitude indicated that they were talking confidentially, and Dick thought he had better go away without attracting their attention; but just then the captain turned in his chair and looked out. Dick decided to wait until he looked round again, and next moment Don Sebastian asked: “Have you plenty coal?”
“I think so,” the engineer replied. “The after-bunkersare full, but I’d have taken a few extra barge-loads here only I didn’t want any of the shore peons to see how much I’d already got.”
Dick did not understand this, because coal was somewhat cheaper and the facilities for shipping it were better at the boat’s next port of call, to which it was only a two-days’ run. Then the captain, who turned to Don Sebastian, remarked:
“Making the sailing list prominent was a happy thought, and it was lucky your friends backed us up well by their speeches. You saw how I took advantage of the lead they gave me, but I hope we haven’t overdone the thing.”
“No,” said Don Sebastian thoughtfully; “I imagine nobody suspects anything yet.”
“Perhaps you had better clear the ship soon, sir,” said the engineer. “Steam’s nearly up and it takes some coal——”
The room door slipped off its hook and swung wide open as the vessel rolled, and Dick, who could not withdraw unnoticed, decided to light his cigarette in order that the others might see that they were not alone. As he struck the match the captain got up.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
“One of the foreign passengers, I expect; the mates can’t keep them off this deck,” the engineer replied. “I don’t suppose the fellow knows English, but shall I send him down?”
“I think not. It might look as if we were afraid of being overheard.”
Dick held the match to his cigarette for a moment or two before he threw it away, and as he walked past noted that Don Sebastian had come out on deck.Indeed, he thought the man had seen his face and was satisfied, because he turned back into the room. Dick went down a ladder to the deck below, where he stopped and thought over what he had heard. It was plain that some precautions had been taken against the risk of capture, but he could not understand why Don Sebastian had been told about them.
By and by he thought he would speak to the purser, whom he knew, and went down the alleyway that led to his office. The door was hooked back, but the passage was narrow and a fat Spanish lady blocked the entrance. She was talking to the purser and Dick saw that he must wait until she had finished. A man stood a few yards behind her, unscrewing a flute, and as a folded paper that looked like music stuck out of his pocket he appeared to belong to the band.
“But it is Tuesday you arrive at Palomas!” the lady exclaimed.
“About then,” the purser answered in awkward Castilian. “We may be a little late.”
“But how much late?”
“I cannot tell. Perhaps a day or two.”
“At dinner the captain said——”
“Just so. But he was speaking generally without knowing all the arrangements.”
Dick could not see into the office, but heard the purser open a drawer and shuffle some papers, as if he wanted to get rid of his questioner.
“It is necessary that I know when we arrive,” the lady resumed. “If it is not Tuesday, I must send a telegram.”
The purser shut the drawer noisily, but just thena bell rang overhead and the whistle blew to warn the visitors that they must go ashore.
“Then you must be quick,” said the purser. “Write your message here and give it to me. You need not be disturbed. We will land you at Palomas.”
The lady entered the office, but Dick thought her telegram would not be sent, and a moment later the captain’s plan dawned on him. The ship would call at the ports named, but not in the order stated, and this was why she needed so much coal. She would probably steam first to the port farthest off and then work backward, and the sailing list was meant to put the raider off the track. The latter’s commander, warned by spies who would send him the list, would think he knew where to find the vessel at any particular date, when, however, she would be somewhere else. Then Dick wondered why the musician was hanging about, and went up to him.
“The sobrecargo’s busy,” he said in English. “You’ll be taken to sea unless you get up on deck.”
“I no wanta el sobrecargo,” the man replied in a thick, stupid voice. “The music is thirsty; I wanta drink.”
The second-class bar was farther down the alleyway, and Dick, indicating it, turned back and made his way to the poop as fast as he could, for he did not think the man was as drunk as he looked. He found the musicians collecting their stands, and went up to the bandmaster.
“There’s one of your men below who has been drinking too much caña,” he said. “You had better look after him.”
“But they are all here,” the bandmaster answered, glancing round the poop.
“The man had a flute.”
“But we have no flute-player.”
“Then he must have been a passenger,” said Dick, who hurried to the gangway.
After hailing his fireman to bring the launch alongside, he threw a quick glance about. The shore boatmen were pushing their craft abreast of the ladder and shouting as they got in each other’s way, but one boat had already left the ship and was pulling fast towards the harbor. There seemed to be only one man on board besides her crew, and Dick had no doubt that he was the flute-player. He must be followed, since it was important to find out whom he met and if, as Dick suspected, he meant to send off a telegram. But the liner’s captain must be warned, and Dick turned hastily around. The windlass was rattling and the bridge, on which he could see the captain’s burly figure, was some distance off, while the passage between the gangway and deckhouse was blocked by the departing guests.
The anchor would probably be up before he could push his way through the crowd, and if he was not carried off to sea, he would certainly lose sight of the spy. Writing a line or two on the leaf of his pocket-book, he tore it out and held it near a Creole steward boy.
“Take that to the sobrecargo at once,” he cried, and seeing the boy stoop to pick up the note, which fell to the deck, ran down the ladder.
He had, however, to wait a minute while the fireman brought the launch alongside between the otherboats, and when they pushed off Don Sebastian, scrambling across one of the craft, jumped on board. He smiled when Dick looked at him with annoyed surprise.
“I think my business is yours, but there is no time for explanations,” he said. “Tell your man to go full speed.”
The launch quivered and leaped ahead with the foam curling at her bows, and Dick did not look round when he heard an expostulating shout. Jake and Bethune must get ashore as they could; his errand was too important to stop for them, particularly as he could no longer see the boat in front. She had crossed the glittering belt of moonlight and vanished into the shadow near the mole. Her occupant had had some minutes’ start and had probably landed, but it might be possible to find out where he had gone.
“Screw the valve wide open,” Dick told the fireman.
The rattle of the engine quickened a little, the launch lifted her bows, and her stern sank into the hollow of a following wave. When she steamed up the harbor a boat lay near some steps, and as the launch slackened speed Dick asked her crew which way their passenger had gone.
“Up the mole, señor,” one answered breathlessly.
“It is all you will learn from them,” Don Sebastian remarked. “I think we will try thetelegrafiafirst.”
There was no time for questions and Dick jumped out as the launch ran alongside the steps. Don Sebastian stopped him when he reached the top.
“In Santa Brigida, nobody runs unless there is anearthquake or a revolution. We do not want people to follow us.”
Dick saw the force of this and started for the telegraph office, walking as fast as possible. When he looked round, his companion had vanished, but he rejoined him on the steps of the building. They went in together and found nobody except a languid clerk leaning on a table. Don Sebastian turned to Dick and said in English, “It will be better if you leave this matter to me.”
Dick noted that the clerk suddenly became alert when he saw his companion, but he waited at a few yards’ distance and Don Sebastian said: “A man came in not long since with a telegram. He was short and very dark and probably signed the form Vinoles.”
“He did, señor,” said the clerk.
“Very well. I want to see the message before it is sent.”
“It has gone, señor, three or four minutes ago.”
Don Sebastian made a gesture of resignation, spreading out his hands. “Then bring me the form.”
Dick thought it significant that the clerk at once obeyed, but Don Sebastian, who stood still for a moment, turned to him.
“It is as I thought,” he said in English, and ordered the clerk: “Take us into the manager’s room.”
The other did so, and after shutting the door withdrew. Don Sebastian threw the form on the table.
“It seems we are too late,” he said.
CHAPTER XXVTHE WATER-PIPE
Dick sat down and knitted his brows as he studied his companion. Don Sebastian was a Peninsular Spaniard and in consequence of a finer type than the majority of the inhabitants of Santa Brigida. Dick, who thought he could confide in him, needed help, but the matter was delicate. In the meantime, the other waited with a smile that implied that he guessed his thoughts, until Dick, leaning forward with sudden resolution, picked up the telegram, which was written in cipher.
“This is probably a warning to somebody that the vessel will not call at the ports in the advertised order,” he said.
“I imagine so. You guessed the captain’s plan from what you heard outside the room?”
“Not altogether, but it gave me a hint. It looks as if you recognized me when I was standing near the lifeboat.”
“I did,” said Don Sebastian meaningly. “I think I showed my confidence in you.”
Dick nodded, because it was plain that the other had enabled him to go away without being questioned.
“Very well; I’ll tell you what I know,” he said, and related how he had found the man with the flute loitering about the purser’s door. As he finished, Don Sebastian got up.
“You made one mistake; you should have given your note to an Englishman and not a young Creole lad. However, we must see if the steamer can be stopped.”
He led the way up a staircase to the flat roof, where Dick ran to the parapet. Looking across the town, he saw in the distance a dim white light and a long smear of smoke that trailed across the glittering sea. He frowned as he watched it, for the ship was English and he felt himself responsible for the safety of all on board her. He had done his best, when there was no time to pause and think, but perhaps he had blundered. Suppose the Creole boy had lost his note or sent it to somebody ashore?
“We are too late again,” Don Sebastian remarked as he sat down on the parapet. “Well, one must be philosophical. Things do not always go as one would wish.”
“Why didn’t you warn the captain that his plan was found out, instead of jumping into the launch?” Dick asked angrily.
Don Sebastian smiled. “Because I did not know. I saw a man steal down the ladder and thought he might be a spy, but could not tell how much he had learned. If he had learned nothing, it would have been dangerous for the captain to change his plan again and keep to the sailing list.”
“That’s true,” Dick agreed shortly. His chin was thrust forward and his head slightly tilted back. He looked very English and aggressive as he resumed: “But I want to know what your interest in the matter is.”
“Then I must tell you. To begin with, I am employedby the Government and am in the President’s confidence. The country is poor and depends for its development on foreign capital, while it is important that we should have the support and friendship of Great Britain and the United States. Perhaps you know the latter’s jealousy about European interference in American affairs?”
Dick nodded. “You feel you have to be careful. But how far can a country go in harboring a belligerent’s agents and supplying her fighting ships, without losing its neutrality?”
“That is a difficult question,” Don Sebastian replied. “I imagine the answer depends upon the temper of the interested country’s diplomatic representatives; but the President means to run no risks. We cannot, for example, have it claimed that we allowed a foreign power to buy a coaling station and use it as a base for raids on merchant ships.”
“Have the Germans bought the Adexe wharf?”
Don Sebastian shrugged. “Quién sabe?The principal has not a German name.”
“Isn’t Richter German?”
“Richter has gone. It is possible that he has done his work. His friend, however, is the head of the coaling company.”
“Do you think Kenwardine was his partner? If so, it’s hard to understand why he let you come to his house. He’s not a fool.”
The Spaniard’s dark eyes twinkled. “Señor Kenwardine is a clever man, and it is not always safer to keep your antagonist in the dark when you play an intricate game. Señor Kenwardine knew it would have been a mistake to show he thought I suspectedhim and that he had something to conceal. We were both very frank, to a point, and now and then talked about the complications that might spring from the coaling business. Because we value our trade with England and wish to attract British capital, he knew we would not interfere with him unless we had urgent grounds, and wished to learn how far we would let him go. It must be owned that in this country official suspicion can often be disarmed.”
“By a bribe? I don’t think Kenwardine is rich,” Dick objected.
“Then it is curious that he is able to spend so much at Adexe.”
Dick frowned, for he saw what the other implied. If Kenwardine had to be supplied with money, where did it come from? It was not his business to defend the man and he must do what he could to protect British shipping, but Kenwardine was Clare’s father, and he was not going to expose him until he was sure of his guilt.
“But if he was plotting anything that would get your President into trouble, he must have known he would be found out.”
“Certainly. But suppose he imagined he might not be found out until he had done what he came to do? It would not matter then.”
Dick said nothing. He knew he was no match for the Spaniard in subtlety, but he would not be forced into helping him. He set his lips, and Don Sebastian watched him with amusement.
“Well,” said the latter, “you have my sympathy. The señorita’s eyes are bright.”
“I cannot have Miss Kenwardine mentioned,” Dickrejoined. “She has nothing to do with the matter.”
“That is agreed,” Don Sebastian answered, and leaned forward as he added in a meaning tone: “You are English and your life has been threatened by men who plot against your country. I might urge that they may try again and I could protect you; but you must see what their thinking you dangerous means. Now I want your help.”
Dick’s face was very resolute as he looked at him. “If any harm comes to the liner, I’ll do all I can. But I’ll do nothing until I know. In the meantime, can you warn the captain?”
Don Sebastian bowed. “I must be satisfied with your promise. We may find the key to the telegram, and must try to get into communication with the steamer.”
They went down stairs together, but the Spaniard did not leave the office with Dick, who went out alone and found Bethune and Jake waiting at the end of the line. They bantered him about his leaving them on board the ship, but although he thought Jake looked at him curiously, he told them nothing.
When work stopped on the Saturday evening, Jake and Dick went to dine with Bethune. It was getting dark when they reached a break in the dam, where a gap had been left open while a sluice was being built. A half-finished tower rose on the other side and a rope ladder hung down for the convenience of anybody who wished to cross. A large iron pipe that carried water to a turbine, however, spanned the chasm, and the sure-footed peons often used it as a bridge. This required some agility and nerve, but it saved an awkward scramble across the sluice and up the concrete.
“There’s just light enough,” Jake remarked, and balancing himself carefully, walked out upon the pipe.
Dick followed and getting across safely, stopped at the foot of the tower and looked down at the rough blocks and unfinished ironwork in the bottom of the gap.
“The men have been told to use the ladder, but as they seldom do so, it would be safer to run a wire across for a hand-rail,” he said. “Anybody who slipped would get a dangerous fall.”
They went on to Bethune’s iron shack, where Stuyvesant joined them, and after dinner sat outside, talking and smoking. A carafe of Spanish wine and some glasses stood on a table close by.
“I’ve fired Jose’s and Pancho’s gangs; they’ve been asking for it for some time,” Stuyvesant remarked. “In fact, I’d clear out most of the shovel boys if I could replace them. They’ve been saving money and are getting slack.”
The others agreed that it might be advisable. The half-breeds from the hills, attracted by good wages, worked well when first engaged, but generally found steady labor irksome and got discontented when they had earned a sum that would enable them to enjoy a change.
“I don’t think you’d get boys enough in this neighborhood,” Bethune said.
“That’s so. Anyhow, I’d rather hire a less sophisticated crowd; the half-civilizedMeztisois worse than the other sort, but I don’t see why we shouldn’t look for some further along the coast. Do you feel like taking the launch, Brandon, and trying what you can do?”
“I’d enjoy the trip,” Dick answered with some hesitation. “But I’d probably have to go beyond Coronal, and it might take a week.”
“That won’t matter; stay as long as it’s necessary,” Stuyvesant said, for he had noticed a slackness in Dick’s movements and his tired look. “Things are going pretty well just now, and you have stuck close to your work. The change will brace you up. Anyhow, I want fresh boys and Bethune’s needed here, but you can take Jake along if you want company.”
Jake declared that he would go, but Dick agreed with reluctance. He felt jaded and depressed, for the double strain he had borne was beginning to tell. His work, carried on in scorching heat, demanded continuous effort, and when it stopped at night he had private troubles to grapple with. Though he had been half-prepared for Clare’s refusal, it had hit him hard, and he could find no means of exposing Kenwardine’s plots without involving her in his ruin. It would be a relief to get away, but he might be needed at Santa Brigida.
Bethune began to talk about the alterations a contractor wished to make, and by and by there was a patter of feet and a hum of voices in the dark. The voices grew louder and sounded angry as the steps approached the house, and Stuyvesant pushed back his chair.
“It’s Jose’s or Pancho’s breeds come to claim that their time is wrong. I suppose one couldn’t expect that kind of crowd to understand figures, but although François’ accounts are seldom very plain, he’s not a grafter.”
Then a native servant entered hurriedly.
“They all come, señor,” he announced. “Pig tief say Fransoy rob him and he go casser office window.” He turned and waved his hand threateningly as a big man in ragged white clothes came into the light. “Fuera, puerco ladron!”
The man took off a large palm-leaf hat and flourished it with ironical courtesy.
“Here is gran escandolo, señores.La belle chose, verdad!Me I have trent’ dollar; the grand tief me pay——”
Stuyvesant signed to the servant. “Take them round to the back corral; we can’t have them on the veranda.” Then he turned to Dick. “You and Bethune must convince them that the time-sheets are right; you know more about the thing than I do. Haven’t you been helping François, Fuller?”
“I’m not a linguist,” Jake answered with a grin. “When they talk French and Spanish at once it knocks me right off my height, as François sometimes declares.”
They all went round to the back of the house, where Bethune and Dick argued with the men. The latter had been dismissed and while ready to go wanted a grievance, though some honestly failed to understand the deductions from their wages. They had drawn small sums in advance, taken goods out of store, and laid off now and then on an unusually hot day, but the amount charged against them was larger than they thought. For all that, Bethune using patience and firmness pacified them, and after a time they went away satisfied while the others returned to the veranda.
“Arguing in languages you don’t know well is thirsty work, and we’d better have a drink,” Bethune remarked.
He pushed the carafe across the table, but Dick picked up his glass, which he had left about half full. He was hot and it was a light Spanish wine that one could drink freely, but when he had tasted it he emptied what was left over the veranda rails.
Bethune looked surprised, but laughed. “The wine isn’t very good, but the others seem able to stand for it. I once laid out a mine ditch in a neighborhood where you’d have wanted some courage to throw away a drink the boys had given you.”
“It was very bad manners,” Dick answered awkwardly. “Still, I didn’t like the taste——”
He stopped, noticing that Jake gave him a keen glance, but Stuyvesant filled his glass and drank.
“What’s the matter with the wine?” he asked.
Dick hesitated. He wanted to let the matter drop, but he had treated Bethune rudely and saw that the others were curious.
“It didn’t taste as it did when I left it. Of course this may have been imagination.”
“But you don’t think so?” Stuyvesant rejoined. “In fact, you suspect the wine was doped after we went out?”
“No,” said Dick with a puzzled frown; “I imagine any doping stuff would make it sour. The curious thing is that it tasted better than usual but stronger.”
Stuyvesant picked up the glass and smelt it, for a little of the liquor remained in the bottom.
“It’s a pity you threw it out, because there’s a scent mine hasn’t got. Like bad brandy or what the Spaniardscallmadre de vinoand use for bringing light wine up to strength.”
Then Bethune took the glass from him and drained the last drops. “I think itis madre de vino. Pretty heady stuff and that glass would hold a lot.”
Stuyvesant nodded, for it was not a wineglass but a small tumbler.
“Doping’s not an unusual trick, but I can’t see why anybody should want to make Brandondrunk.”
“It isn’t very plain and I may have made a fuss about nothing,” Dick replied, and began to talk about something else with Jake’s support.
The others indulged them, and after a time the party broke up. The moon had risen when Dick and Jake walked back along the dam, but the latter stopped when they reached the gap.
“We’ll climb down and cross by the sluice instead of the pipe,” he said.
“Why?” Dick asked. “The light is better than when we came.”
Jake gave him a curious look. “Your nerve’s pretty good, but do you want to defy your enemies and show them you have found out their trick?”
“But I haven’t found it out; that is, I don’t know the object of it yet.”
“Well,” said Jake rather grimly, “what do you think would happen if a drunken man tried to walk along that pipe?”
Then a light dawned on Dick and he sat down, feeling limp. He was abstemious, and a large dose of strong spirit would, no doubt, have unsteadied him. His companions would notice this, but with the obstinacy that often marks a half-drunk man he wouldprobably have insisted on trying to cross the pipe. Then a slip or hesitation would have precipitated him upon the unfinished ironwork below, and since an obvious explanation of his fall had been supplied, nobody’s suspicions would have been aroused. The subtlety of the plot was unnerving. Somebody who knew all about him had chosen the moment well.
“It’s so devilishly clever!” he said with hoarse anger after a moment or two.
Jake nodded. “They’re smart. They knew the boys were coming to make a row and Stuyvesant wouldn’t have them on the veranda. Then the wine was on the table, and anybody who’d noticed where we sat could tell your glass. It would have been easy to creep up to the shack before the moon rose.”
“Who arethey?”
“If I knew, I could tell you what to do about it, but I don’t. It’s possible there was only one man, but if so, he’s dangerous. Anyhow, it’s obvious that Kenwardine has no part in the matter.”
“He’s not in this,” Dick agreed. “Have you a cigarette? I think I’d like a smoke. It doesn’t follow that I’d have been killed, if I had fallen.”
“Then you’d certainly have got hurt enough to keep you quiet for some time, which would probably satisfy the other fellow. But I don’t think we’ll stop here talking; there may be somebody about.”
They climbed down by the foot of the tower and crossing the sluice went up the ladder. When they reached their shack Dick sat down and lighted the cigarette Jake had given him, but he said nothing and his face was sternly set. Soon afterwards he went to bed.
CHAPTER XXVITHE LINER’S FATE
Next morning Dick reviewed the situation as he ate his breakfast in the fresh coolness before the sun got up. He had got a shock, but he was young and soon recovered. His anger against the unknown plotter remained fierce, but this was, in a sense, a private grievance, by which he must not be unduly influenced. It was plain that he was thought dangerous, which showed that he was following the right clue, and he had determined that the raiding of ships belonging to Britain or her allies must be stopped. Since he had gone to the representative of British authority and had been rebuffed, he meant to get Fuller to see if American suspicions could be easier aroused, but he must first make sure of his ground. In the meantime, Don Sebastian had asked his help and he had given a conditional promise.
Dick decided that he had taken the proper course. Don Sebastian held Kenwardine accountable and meant to expose him. This was painful to contemplate for Clare’s sake, but Dick admitted that he could not shield Kenwardine at his country’s expense. Still, the matter was horribly complicated. If Kenwardine was ruined or imprisoned, a serious obstacle in Dick’s way would be removed, but it was unthinkable that this should be allowed to count when Clare must suffer.Besides, she might come to hate him if she learned that he was responsible for her father’s troubles. But he would make the liner’s fate a test. If the vessel arrived safe, Kenwardine should go free until his guilt was certain; if she were sunk or chased, he would help Don Sebastian in every way he could.
For three or four days he heard nothing about her, and then, one hot morning, when Stuyvesant and Bethune stood at the foot of the tower by the sluice examining some plans, Jake crossed the pipe with a newspaper in his hand.
“TheDiariohas just arrived,” he said. “I haven’t tried to read it yet, but the liner has been attacked.”
Dick, who was superintending the building of the sluice, hastily scrambled up the bank, and Stuyvesant, taking the newspaper, sat down in the shade of the tower. He knew more Castilian than the others, who gathered round him as he translated.
The liner, the account stated, had the coast in sight shortly before dark and was steaming along it when a large, black funnel steamer appeared from behind a point. The captain at once swung his vessel round and the stranger fired a shot, of which he took no notice. It was blowing fresh, the light would soon fade, and there was a group of reefs, which he knew well, not far away. The raider gained a little during the next hour and fired several shots. Two of the shells burst on board, killing a seaman and wounding some passengers, but the captain held on. When it was getting dark the reefs lay close ahead, with the sea breaking heavily on their outer edge, but he steamed boldly for an intricate, unmarked channel between them and the land. In altering his course, he exposedthe vessel’s broadside to the enemy and a shot smashed the pilot-house, but they steered her in with the hand-gear. The pursuer then sheered off, but it got very dark and the vessel grounded in a position where the reef gave some shelter.
Nothing could be done until morning, but as day broke the raider reappeared and had fired a shot across the reef when a gunboat belonging to the state in whose territorial waters the steamer lay came upon the scene. She steamed towards the raider, which made off at full speed. Then the gunboat took the liner’s passengers on board, and it was hoped that the vessel could be re-floated.
“A clear story, told by a French or Spanish sailor who’d taken a passage on the ship,” Bethune remarked. “It certainly didn’t come from one of the British crew.”
“Why?” Jake asked.
Bethune smiled. “A seaman who tells the truth about anything startling that happens on board a passenger boat gets fired. The convention is to wrap the thing in mystery, if it can’t be denied. Besides, the ability to take what you might call a quick, bird’s-eye view isn’t a British gift; an Englishman would have concentrated on some particular point. Anyhow, I can’t see how the boat came to be where she was at the time mentioned.” He turned to Dick and asked: “Do you know, Brandon?”
“No,” said Dick, shortly, “not altogether.”
“Well,” resumed Bethune, “I’ve seen the antiquated gunboat that came to the rescue, and it’s amusing to think of her steaming up to the big auxiliary cruiser. It’s doubtful if they’ve got ammunition thatwould go off in their footy little guns, though I expect the gang of half-breed cut-throats would put up a good fight. They have pluck enough, and the country they belong to can stand upon her dignity.”
“She knows where to look for support,” Stuyvesant remarked. “If the other party goes much farther, she’ll get a sharp snub up. What’s your idea of the situation?”
“Something like yours. We can’t allow the black eagle to find an eyrie in this part of the world, but just now our Western bird’s talons are blunt. She hasn’t been rending the innocents like the other, but one or two of our former leaders are anxious to put her into fighting trim, and I dare say something of the kind will be done. However, Brandon hasn’t taken much part in this conversation. I guess he’s thinking about his work!”
Dick, who had been sitting quiet with a thoughtful face, got up.
“I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes, Stuyvesant.”
“Very well,” said the other, who turned to Bethune and Jake. “I don’t want to play the domineering boss, but we’re not paid to sit here and fix up international politics.”
They went away and Stuyvesant looked at Dick who said, “I ought to start in the launch to-morrow to get the laborers you want, but I can’t go.”
“Why?”
Dick hesitated. “The fact is I’ve something else to do.”
“Ah!” said Stuyvesant. “I think the understanding was that Fuller bought all your time.”
“He did. I’m sorry, but——”
“But if I insist on your going down the coast, you’ll break your agreement.”
“Yes,” said Dick with embarrassment. “It comes to that.”
Stuyvesant looked hard at him. “You must recognize that this is a pretty good job, and you’re not likely to get another without Fuller’s recommendation. Then I understand you were up against it badly when he first got hold of you. You’re young and ought to be ambitious, and you have your chance to make your mark right here.”
“It’s all true,” Dick answered doggedly. “Still, I can’t go.”
“Then it must be something very important that makes you willing to throw up your job.”
Dick did not answer and, to his surprise, Stuyvesant smiled as he resumed: “It’s England first, with you?”
“How did you guess? How much do you know?” Dick asked sharply.
“I don’t know very much. Your throwing out the wine gave me a hint, because it was obvious that somebody had been getting after you before, and there were other matters. But you’re rather young and I suspect you’re up against a big thing.”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you about it yet, if that is what you mean.”
“Very well. Stay here, as usual, if you like, or if you want a week off, take it. I’ll find a suitable reason for not sending you in the launch.”
“Thanks!” said Dick, with keen gratitude, and Stuyvesant, who nodded pleasantly, went away.
Dick sent a note to Don Sebastian by a messenger he could trust, and soon after dark met him, as he appointed, at a wine-shop on the outskirts of the town, where they were shown into a small back room.
“I imagine you are now satisfied,” the Spaniard said. “The liner has been chased and people on board her have been killed.”
“I’m ready to do anything that will prevent another raid. To some extent, perhaps, I’m responsible for what has happened; I might have stopped and seen the mate or captain, but then I’d have lost the man I was after. What do you think became of my note?”
Don Sebastian looked thoughtful. “The boy may have lost it or shown it to his comrades; they carry a few Spanish stewards for the sake of the foreign passengers, and we both carelessly took too much for granted. We followed the spy we saw without reflecting that there might be another on board. However, this is not important now.”
“It isn’t. But what do you mean to do with Kenwardine?”
“You have no cause for troubling yourself on his account.”
“That’s true, in a way,” Dick answered, coloring, though his tone was resolute. “He once did me a serious injury, but I don’t want him hurt. I mean to stop his plotting if I can, but I’m going no further, whether it’s my duty or not.”
The Spaniard made a sign of comprehension. “Then we need not quarrel about Kenwardine. In fact, the President does not want to arrest him; our policy is to avoid complications and it would satisfyus if he could be forced to leave the country and give up the coaling station.”
“How will you force him?”
“He has been getting letters from Kingston; ordinary, friendly letters from a gentleman whose business seems to be coaling ships. For all that, there is more in them than meets the uninstructed eye.”
“Have you read his replies?”
Don Sebastian shrugged. “What do you expect? They do not tell us much, but it looks as if Señor Kenwardine means to visit Kingston soon.”
“But it’s in Jamaica; British territory.”
“Just so,” said the Spaniard, smiling. “Señor Kenwardine is a bold and clever man. His going to Kingston would have thrown us off the scent if we had not known as much as we do; but it would have been dangerous had he tried to hide it and we had found it out. You see how luck favors us?”
“What is your plan?”
“We will follow Kenwardine. He will be more or less at our mercy on British soil, and, if it seems needful, there is a charge you can bring against him. He stole some army papers.”
Dick started. “How did you hear of that?”
“Clever men are sometimes incautious, and he once spoke about it to his daughter,” Don Sebastian answered with a shrug. “Our antagonists are not the only people who have capable spies.”
The intrigue and trickery he had become entangled in inspired Dick with disgust, but he admitted that one could not be fastidious in a fight with a man like his antagonist.
“Very well,” he said, frowning, “I’ll go; but itmust be understood that when he’s beaten you won’t decide what’s to be done with the man without consulting me.”
Don Sebastian bowed. “It is agreed. One can trust you to do nothing that would injure your country. But we have some arrangements to make.”
Shortly afterwards Dick left the wine-shop, and returning to the camp went to see Stuyvesant.
“I want to go away in a few days, perhaps for a fortnight, but I’d like it understood that I’d been sent down the coast in the launch,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I mean to start in her.”
“Certainly. Arrange the thing as you like,” Stuyvesant agreed. Then he looked at Dick with a twinkle. “You deserve a lay-off and I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
Dick thanked him and went back to his shack, where he found Jake on the verandah.
“I may go with the launch, after all, but not to Coronal,” he remarked.
“Ah!” said Jake, with some dryness. “Then you had better take me; anyhow, I’m coming.”
“I’d much sooner you didn’t.”
“That doesn’t count,” Jake replied. “You’re getting after somebody, and if you leave me behind, I’ll give the plot away. It’s easy to send a rumor round the camp.”
Dick reflected. He saw that Jake meant to come and knew he could be obstinate. Besides, the lad was something of a seaman and would be useful on board the launch, because Dick did not mean to join the steamer Kenwardine traveled by, but to catch another at a port some distance off.
“Well,” he said, “I suppose I must give in.”
“You’ve got to,” Jake rejoined, and added in a meaning tone: “You may need a witness if you’re after Kenwardine, and I want to be about to see fair play.”
“Then you trust the fellow yet?”
“I don’t know,” Jake answered thoughtfully. “At first, I thought Kenwardine great, and I like him now. He certainly has charm and you can’t believe much against him when he’s with you; but it’s somehow different at a distance. Still, he knew nothing about the attacks on you. I saw that when I told him about them.”
“You told him!” Dick exclaimed.
“I did. Perhaps it might have been wise——”
Jake stopped, for he heard a faint rustle, as if a bush had been shaken, and Dick looked up. The moon had not yet risen, thin mist drifted out of the jungle, and it was very dark. There was some brush in front of the building and a belt of tall grass and reeds grew farther back. Without moving the upper part of his body, he put his foot under the table at which they sat and kicked Jake’s leg.
“What was that about Adexe?” he asked in a clear voice, and listened hard.
He heard nothing then, for Jake took the hint and began to talk about the coaling station, but when the lad stopped there was another rustle, very faint but nearer.
Next moment a pistol shot rang out and a puff of acrid smoke drifted into the veranda. Then the brushwood crackled, as if a man had violently plunged through it, and Jake sprang to his feet.
“Come on and bring the lamp!” he shouted, running down the steps.
Dick followed, but left the lamp alone. He did not know who had fired the shot and it might be imprudent to make himself conspicuous. Jake, who was a few yards in front, boldly took a narrow path through the brush, which rose to their shoulders. The darkness was thickened by the mist, but after a moment or two they heard somebody coming to meet them. It could hardly be an enemy, because the man wore boots and his tread was quick and firm. Dick noted this with some relief, but thought it wise to take precautions.
“Hold on, Jake,” he said and raised his voice: “Who’s that?”
“Payne,” answered the other, and they waited until he came up.
“Now,” said Jake rather sharply, “what was the shooting about?”
“There was a breed hanging round in the bushes and when he tried to creep up to the veranda I plugged him.”
“Then where is he?”
“That’s what I don’t know,” Payne answered apologetically. “I hit him sure, but it looks as if he’d got away.”
“It looks as if you’d missed. Where did you shoot from?”
Payne beckoned them to follow and presently stopped beside the heap of ironwork a little to one side of the shack. The lighted veranda was in full view of the spot, but there was tall brushwood close by and behind this the grass.
“I was here,” Payne explained. “Heard something move once or twice, and at last the fellow showed between me and the light. When I saw he was making for the veranda I put up my gun. Knew I had the bead on him when I pulled her off.”
“Then show us where he was.”
Payne led them forward until they reached a spot where the brush was broken and bent, and Jake, stooping down, struck a match.
“I guess he’s right. Look at this,” he said with shrinking in his voice.
The others saw a red stain on the back of his hand and crimson splashes on the grass. Then Dick took the match and put it out.
“The fellow must be found. I’ll get two or three of the boys I think we can trust and we’ll begin the search at once.”
He left them and returned presently with the men and two lanterns, but before they set off he asked Payne: “Could you hear what we said on the veranda?”
“No. I could tell you were talking, but that was all. Once you kind of raised your voice and I guess the fellow in front heard something, for it was then he got up and tried to crawl close in.”
“Just so,” Dick agreed and looked at Jake as one of the men lighted a lantern. “He was nearer us than Payne. I thought Adexe would draw him.”
They searched the belt of grass and the edge of the jungle, since, as there were venomous snakes about, it did not seem likely that the fugitive would venture far into the thick, steamy gloom. Then they made a circuit of the camp, stopping wherever a mound ofrubbish offered a hiding-place, but the search proved useless until they reached the head of the track. Then an explanation of the man’s escape was supplied, for the hand-car, which had stood there an hour ago, had gone. A few strokes of the crank would start it, after which it would run down the incline.
“I guess that’s how he went,” said Payne.
Dick nodded. The car would travel smoothly if its speed was controlled, but it would make some noise and he could not remember having heard anything. The peons, however, frequently used the car when they visited their comrades at the mixing sheds, and he supposed the rattle of wheels had grown so familiar that he had not noticed it.
“Send the boys away; there’s nothing more to be done,” he said.
They turned back towards the shack, and after a few minutes Jake remarked: “It will be a relief when this business is over. My nerves are getting ragged.”