Austin was writing in the saloon, which was a little cooler than his room, at about eight o'clock that night, while Jacinta and Mrs. Hatherly made ineffectual attempts to read in the ladies' cabin, for theEstremedurawas on her way south again, with the trade-wind combers tumbling after her. She rolled with a long, rhythmic swing, and now and then shook and trembled with the jar of her lifted propeller. Muriel Gascoyne was accordingly alone with her father on the deck above. She sat in a canvas chair, while Gascoyne leaned upon the rails in front of her. There was a full moon overhead, and a fantastic panorama of fire-blackened hills, wastes of ash and lava, whirling clouds of sand, black rocks lapped by spouting surf, and bays of deepest indigo, unrolled itself upon one hand. It is, however, probable that neither of the pair saw much of it, for their thoughts were not concerned with the volcanic desolation.
"It is a pity I did not come a few weeks earlier," said Gascoyne with a sigh.
Muriel's eyes were a trifle hazy, but her voice was even. "If you had come then, and insisted upon it, I might have given him up," she said.
"That means it is irrevocable now? I want you to make quite sure, my dear. This man does not belong to our world. Even his thoughts must be different fromours. You cannot know anything of his past life—I scarcely think he could explain it to you. He would regard nothing from the same standpoint as we do."
"Still, it cannot have been a bad one. I can't tell you why I am sure of that, but I know."
Gascoyne made a little, hopeless gesture. "Muriel," he said, a trifle hoarsely, "it is a terrible risk—and if you marry him you must inevitably drift away from me. You are all I have, and I am getting old and lonely, but that is not of the greatest moment. It would be horrible to think of you drifting away from all you have been taught to believe in and hold sacred."
It was a strong appeal, perhaps the strongest he could have made, for the girl had been without breadth of view when she left home, and the boundaries of her outlook had coincided with those of the little rural parish. Still, in some strange fashion she had gained enlightenment, and she was resolute, though her blue eyes slowly brimmed with moisture. It was true that he would be very lonely.
"Ah," she said, and it was a significant sign that she questioned the comprehension of the man whom she had regarded as almost infallible a few weeks earlier, "how can I make you understand? There are, perhaps, many worlds, and we know there are many kinds of men. They must think differently, but does that matter so very much, after all? There is the same humanity in all of us."
"Undoubtedly! In Turks, idolaters, and unbelievers. Humanity in itself is fallen and evil."
Muriel smiled. "Father," she said, "you don't believe that there is no good in all those who have not been taught to believe as we do."
Gascoyne did not answer her, though it is possible that there were circumstances under which he would have returned a very slightly qualified affirmative.
"There is a perilous optimism abroad," he said.
"Still," said Muriel, unconscious of the irony of her deprecatory answer, "Mr. Jefferson is neither a Turk nor an idolater. He is only an American sailor."
Gascoyne sighed dejectedly, for there was, it seemed, nothing left for him to appeal to. The girl's beliefs had gone. The simple, iron-fast rules of life she had once acknowledged were now apparently discredited; but even in his concern he was vaguely sensible that an indefinite something which he did not recognise as the charity that love teaches was growing up in place of them. Still, he felt its presence as he watched her, and knew that it could not be altogether born of evil.
"My dear," he said, "how shall I implore you to consider?"
Muriel smiled out of hazy eyes. "It is too late. He has my promise, and I belong to him. Nothing that you could say would change that now. He has gone out—to Africa—believing in me, and I know that he may never come back again."
Gascoyne appeared a trifle startled, and remembered a curious remark that Austin had made to the effect that there was a heavy responsibility upon his daughter. He could not altogether understand why this should be, but he almost fancied that she recognised it now. There was also a finality and decision in the girl's tone which was new to him.
"I think you know how hard it was for me to get away, but it seemed necessary. I came out to implore you to give this stranger up," he said.
The girl rose, and stood looking at him gravely, with one hand on the chair arm to steady herself as the steamer rolled, and the moonlight upon her face. It was almost reposeful in its resolution.
"Father," she said, "you must try to understand. Perhaps I did wrong when I gave him my promise without consulting you, but it is given, and irrevocable. He has gone out to Africa—and may die there—believing in me. I don't think I could make you realise how he believes in me, but, though, of course, he is wrong, I grow frightened now and then, and almost hope he may never see me as I really am. That is why I—daren't—fail him. If there was no other reason I must keep faith with him."
"Then," said Gascoyne, very slowly, "I must, at least, try to resign myself—and perhaps, my apprehensions may turn out to be not quite warranted, after all. I was horribly afraid a little while ago, but this man seems to have the faculty of inspiring confidence in those who know him. They cannot all be mistaken, and the man who is purser on this steamer seems to believe in him firmly. His views are peculiar, but there was sense in what he said, and he made me think a little less hardly of Mr. Jefferson."
Muriel only smiled. She realised what this admission, insufficient and grudging as it was, must have cost her father, and—for she had regarded everything from his point of view until a few weeks ago—she could sympathise with him. Still, she was glad when she saw Jacinta and Mrs. Hatherly coming towards them along the deck.
It was an hour later when Jacinta met Austin at the head of the ladder, and stopped him with a sign.
"I have had a long talk with Mr. Gascoyne, and found him a little less disturbed in mind than I had expected," she said. "I want to know what you said to him."
"Well," said Austin, reflectively, "I really can't remember, and if I could it wouldn't be worth while. Of course, I knew what I wanted to say, but I'm almost afraid I made as great a mess of it as I usually do."
"Still, I think Miss Gascoyne is grateful to you."
"That," said Austin, "affords me very little satisfaction, after all. You see, I didn't exactly do it to please Miss Gascoyne."
"Then I wonder what motive really influenced you?"
Austin pursed his lips, as if thinking hard. "I don't quite know. For one thing, very orthodox people of the Reverend Gascoyne's description occasionally have an irritating effect upon me. I feel impelled to readjust their point of view, or, at least to allow them an opportunity of recognising the advantages of mine, which, however, isn't necessarily the correct one. I hope this explanation contents you."
Jacinta smiled. "I think I shall remember it," she said. "I believe I generally do when anybody does a thing to please me. Still, Miss Gascoyne's gratitude will not hurt you."
Then she swept away, and left him standing meditatively at the head of the ladder. He saw no more of her that night, and he was busy when theEstremedurasteamed into Las Palmas early next morning, while it was nearly three weeks later when he met her again at a corrida de toros in the bull ring at Santa Cruz, Teneriffe, which was, perhaps, the last place where one would have expected to find an English lady.
The spacious amphitheatre was open to the sky, and all its tiers of stone benches packed with excited humanity, for half the inhabitants of the island had apparently gathered to enjoy the sanguinary spectacle. Black is the colour affected by men who can afford it on a Spanish holiday, but the white cotton the bare-legged hillmen wore, and the pink and chrome of their wives' and daughters' dresses, flecked with luminous colour the sombre ranks of the close-packed multitude. Blazing sunlight beat down upon them, for it is only the richer citizens who sit in theshadow, and the topmost row was projected, a filagree of black and motley, against the hard glaring blue. Below, the arena shone dazzlingly yellow, and the smell of blood and fresh sawdust came up from it through the many-toned murmur of the crowd. When this sank a little one could hear the deep boom of the Atlantic swell crumbling on the lava beach.
The revolting picador scene was over. Two or three worn-out and blindfolded horses had been gored or trampled to death, and one picador's arm had been broken. The tawny, long-horned bull, which had shown unusual courage, stood panting in the middle of the arena, with a crimson smear on one shoulder where a lance had scored it deep, and while the bugles rang, the vast assembly waited for the banderillero scene in high good humour. Just then a little party descended one of the avenues on the shady side, and Austin, who had a note from Pancho Brown in his pocket, with some difficulty made his way to meet them. He was quite aware that Brown was probably the only Englishman in those islands who would have been able to reserve desirable places at a corrida de toros.
Jacinta, who accompanied him, was attended by his Spanish housekeeper and two sunburnt English naval officers, but she made room for Austin on one side of her, and appeared in no way displeased by his indifferently veiled approbation. Miss Brown had been dressed by a Castilian modeste, mostly in black lace, that day, and her clustering brown hair was ornamented by a little mantilla of the same material. It was not a dress which would have suited every Englishwoman, especially of substantial type, but Jacinta was slight, and delicately round, and altogether sylph-like.
"You venture to approve of this get-up?" she said. "The tourists were a little horrified at the hotel."
Austin, who wore white duck, noticed that she smiled at the Governor, who sat above them amidst his glittering staff, and that almost sufficed to spoil his satisfaction, though it was only one of the many little things that emphasised the difference between them. Still, he contrived to laugh.
"I expect they were envious. It's bewilderingly effective, and I am a bit of an artist, as you know," he said. "I was wondering whether you would have the courage to come."
"Jacinta," said Pancho Brown, "has courage enough for anything. Still, she came because I asked her. I make my living out of these people, and, perhaps, a little more. It was policy."
Jacinta laughed. "Well," she said, "I rather like it, and I have been before. Of course, I mean after they have killed the horses and smashed the picadores. That part is not only cruel, but ineffective. It's not inspiriting to see a man padded with leather sit quite still to be knocked over. They should either wipe it out or give them stuffed horses. By the way, you don't know my companions."
The two naval officers acknowledged the introduction with characteristic brevity. Their eyes were fixed on the arena, and the scene was probably worth their attention, for there are parts of a bull fight which cannot be termed revolting, at least, by those who have actually witnessed them.
A lithe, well-favoured man, picturesquely attired, skipped into the ring, holding a crimson cape in one hand, and a couple of little decorated darts in the other. It was his business to strike them into the neck or shoulder of the bull, but nowhere else, while their points were calculated to do no more than exasperate it. The beast watched himsavagely, pawing up the sand, and the chances appeared somewhat against the man, since to reach its neck he must approach his silk-covered breast within an inch or two of the gleaming horns, one of which was suspiciously reddened.
Austin could not quite see how he did it, for his motions were bewilderingly rapid, but he saw the wave of the gaudy cloak and heard its crisp rustle that was lost in the roar. Then the man was running round the ring for his life, and the bull thundering along with lowered head and a dart bristling in its neck, a yard or two behind him. He had no time to swing himself over the barricade, as hard pressed banderilleros now and then did, for the deadly horns were almost in the small of his back. It was a frantic test of speed, highly trained human agility and endurance against the strength of the beast, and there was dead silence while they went round the arena once, the man running desperately, with tense, set face, while Austin fancied he could hear his gasping breath through the roar of the hoofs. Then, with a splendid bound, he drew a yard ahead, and another man with a green cape hurled himself through the opening. Somehow he escaped destruction, and the bull slid onward with hoofs ploughing up the sand, and the gaudy silk fluttering about its head. There was a roar of plaudits that could have been heard miles away at sea, and while from tiers of benches the hats came sailing down, the bull, which shook the cape off, tore the coloured rags to fragments.
"That fellow has good nerves," said one of the navy men. "I don't see anything very brutal in it, after all. They both start level, and take their chances, you know."
Jacinta looked at Austin over her fan, and there was a faint flush in as much of her face as he could see, as well as a little gleam in her eyes.
"I'm afraid it—is—a little barbarous," she said. "Everybody says so. Still, wasn't that banderillero splendid! You see, I have put on Castilian notions with my clothes. Of course, as an Englishwoman, I could never venture here."
Austin was a little annoyed to feel that he was smiling sardonically. "Well," he said, "I should almost have fancied that you were too super-refined and ethereal to admire that kind of thing, but I really believe you do."
Jacinta waved her fan. "Do not be deceived, my friend. There is a good deal of the primitive in us all, and it shows up now and then." Then she laughed. "I wonder how they all get their right hats back again."
Austin could not tell her, for it was a thing he could never understand; but while the attendants were still flinging the black sombreros into the air another banderillero approached the bull. He planted one dart and then dashed across the ring, but either his nerve failed him, or he could not trust his speed, for he grasped the top of the barricade and swung himself over. In another moment the bull struck it with a crash, and then stood still, half stunned, apparently endeavouring to make out where the man had gone. There was a storm of hisses and opprobrious cries.
"That banderillero," said Jacinta, sweetly, "should have been driven out of the ring. He ought never to have undertaken a thing that was too big for him."
"Isn't that a little hard upon the man?" said Austin. "He probably didn't know it was too big until he had undertaken it."
"That's sensible, Miss Brown," said one of the navy men. "When he found he couldn't run as fast as the bull could what was he to do?"
"What did a certain gunboat's men do when they foundthemselves quite unexpectedly in front of the African headman's battery?"
The navy man flushed a little, for he was young. "Oh," he said, "that was different. They set their lips and went in, though I don't suppose any of them liked it. Still, you see, that was what they were there to do."
"Exactly!" and Jacinta laughed a little, though there was still a gleam in her eyes, and it was Austin she looked at. "They did the obvious, as well as the most artistic thing. It fortunately happens that they're often very much the same."
"I'm not quite sure I understand you," said the young officer. "People who want me to have to talk plain. Still, I suppose one has always a certain sympathy for the fellow who gets himself killed decently."
Then, for a time, they became absorbed in the play of the banderilleros, who, flashing here and there, with cloaks of red, and gold, and green, passed the bull from one to another up and down the trampled arena. Now, one of them escaped annihilation by a hairsbreadth, while the thundering vivas went up to the glaring sky, and a comrade turned the tormented beast again. Now, a silk-clad athlete swept through the two-foot gap between deadly horns and flying man, and the bull swung round with a bellow to pursue him, or stood still, temporarily blinded with the gaudy cloak about its horns. It was a fascinating exhibition of human nerve and skill, and Austin saw that Jacinta watched it with slightly parted lips and a gleam in her eyes, until at last the bugles rang, and most of the men withdrew, leaving the bull alone in the middle of the arena, with the foam flakes dripping from its muzzle and its brawny neck bristling with the little darts. Then there was a general movement and a great hum ofvoices rose from the close-packed benches. Jacinta waved her fan, and touched Austin's arm as she looked about her.
"Surely that is Macallister. But whatever is he doing there?" she said.
Austin looked up across the long rows of faces, and saw his comrade sitting, spick and span in the blue Spanish mail uniform, among the brilliant officers of the Governor's staff. Macallister was a big man, with a commanding appearance, when he had for the time being done with the engine room, and Austin, who knew that he could make friends with anybody, was not astonished to notice that he seemed very much at home.
"It is rather more than I know," he said. "Still, I should fancy he was telling them something amusing in execrable Castilian, by the way they are laughing. I believe Macallister could get anywhere he wanted. He has, as a matter of fact, dragged me into somewhat astonishing places."
"I shouldn't wonder," said one of the navy men. "George, isn't that big fellow in the uniform yonder the one we saw the other night at the opera?"
"It is," said his comrade, with a little soft laugh, as though he remembered something that had afforded him considerable pleasure.
Jacinta touched Austin with her fan. "I presume you know what he is referring to?"
"Well," said Austin, "what I do know is this. Mack and I went to see the Italian company the other night, and because he, of course, knew everybody about the place, we went behind the scenes. He, unfortunately, became interested in the stage machinery, and when he had made spirited attempts to pull some of it to pieces, I and the improvisatore beguiled him to a chair in the wings. We gave him a cigar to keep him quiet, as well as the libretto,which he could not read, and, as he seemed somewhat sleepy, I was thankful to leave him there. I didn't care about that opera. He never told me what happened after."
The young officer laughed again. "I daresay I can enlighten you. In the middle of the last act one of the wings collapsed, and everybody saw a big Englishman, who had apparently just kicked it over, sitting, half asleep, in a folding chair. He didn't appear to have any legitimate connection with the drama, but he brought the house down when he got up in a hurry and fell over his chair."
Then the shrill call of the bugles rang through the great building, and a tall man, with a scarred face, gorgeously dressed, walked into the arena, holding a three-cornered hat and a long, straight sword. He stood still a moment, an imposing and curiously graceful figure, with bright blade lowered, while a tumultuous shout of "Mæstro!" filled the building; and then, taking a cloak from an attendant, approached the bull. It was freely smeared with blood, and as it stood, bellowing, and pawing the sand in murderous rage, it was evident that the Mæstro's task was not a particularly pleasant one. There was only one way in which he could kill the bull, and that was to pass his sword over the horns and down into the brawny chest, near the base of the neck. Should he strike elsewhere it was probable that the vast assembly would descend and trample on him, for this was a duel to the death between man and beast, in which the latter was secured what seemed an even chance by punctilious etiquette. The Spaniard displays a good deal of sympathy with a gallant bull.
The beast seemed to understand that this man was different from the banderilleros who had previously tormented it, and backed away from him until he smote it lightly on the nostrils. Then it swept forward in a savage rushbut though the man's movements were so quick that one scarcely noticed them, he was not quite where he had been a moment earlier, when the bull thundered past him. Still, one horn had ripped a strip of silk from him. He followed the beast, and struck it with his hand, and for five or six frenzied minutes the vast audience roared. This man never ran. He stepped backwards, or twisted, always with grave gracefulness, in the nick of time, until at last the bull stood still, as though stupefied with rage or uncertain how to attack its elusive persecutor.
Then, as the man walked up to it very quietly and unconcernedly, it seemed to hump itself together for a furious bound and rush with lowered head, and there was no sound in the great building until the bright steel flashed. Man's breast and gleaming horns seemed to meet, but apparently in the same second the gorgeously clad figure had stepped aside, and in the next the bull plunged forward and came down upon its knees.
There was another roar, and once more from all the close-packed benches came the rain of hats, cigars, and bundles of cigarettes.
"Ah," said Jacinta, with a little gasp, "I think I have seen enough. There will be another bull and more picadores now. I never could stand that part of it. Besides, I have done my duty, and patronised the show."
They made their way out while the audience waited for another bull, and certain leather-swathed picadores rode in on decrepit, blindfolded horses, brought there to be killed; and it was an hour later when, as they stood beneath the oleanders in a fonda garden looking down upon the white-walled town, Jacinta mentioned the affair again.
"Of course, it is a little cruel; but, after all, it appeals to rather more than the lower passions and lust of slaughter, don't you think?" she said.
"I never saw anything to equal that Mæstro's play in my life," said one of the young officers. "It was cool daring in the superlative degree."
"I fancy," said Austin, "you want us to make excuses for your being there."
Jacinta laughed. "Not exactly! I am rather proud of being a law to myself—and others—you know. Now, I really think that the qualities the Mæstro possessed appealed to me, though I naturally mean some and not all of them. I am, after all, as I admitted, a little primitive in some respects."
"You mean that you like a man to be daring?" asked the other officer.
"Of course!" and once more it was Austin Jacinta looked at. "Still, I don't necessarily mean that everybody should go bull-fighting. There are other things more worth while."
"Even than sailing round the Canaries and painting little pictures?" said Austin.
Jacinta glanced at him with a curious smile. "Well," she said, "since you ask me, I almost think there are." Then she stopped a moment, and stood looking out from among the oleanders towards the glittering heave of the Atlantic across the white-walled town. Once more a faint gleam crept into her eyes.
"I wonder," she added, "what Jefferson is doing—out yonder in Africa."
The afternoon was wearing through, but it was still almost insufferably hot when Jefferson stood with his hand upon the valve of theCumbria's forward winch. She lay with her bows wedged into the mangrove forest, which crawled on high-arched roots over leagues of bubbling mire to the edge of one of the foulest creeks in Western Africa. It flowed, thick and yeasty, beneath the steamer's hove-up side, for she lay with a list to starboard athwart the stream. There was a bend close by, and her original crew had apparently either failed to swing her round it, which is an accident that sometimes happens in that country, or driven her ashore to save her sinking.
Her iron deck was unpleasantly hot, and the negroes who crossed it between hatch and surfboat hopped. They, of course, wore no boots, and, indeed, very little of anything at all beyond a strip of cotton round their waists. There was not a breath of wind astir, and the saturated atmosphere, which was heavy with the emanations of the swamps, seemed to seal the perspiration in the burning skin. Jefferson felt the veins on his forehead swollen to the bursting point when he stopped the winch and looked about him while the Spaniards slipped a sling over a palm-oil puncheon in the hold below.
He could see nothing but a strip of dazzling water, and the dingy, white-stemmed mangroves which stretched awayfarther than the eye could follow, and sighed as he glanced back at theCumbria. She lay with deck unpleasantly slanted and one bilge in the mire, a rusty, two-masted steamer, with the blistered paint peeling off her, and the burnt awnings hanging from their spars. He did not expect much water in that creek until the wet season, and in the meanwhile it was necessary to heave the coal and cargo out of her and send it down stream to a neighbouring beach. It was very slow work with the handful of men he had, and those few weeks had set their mark on Jefferson.
He had never been a fleshy man, and long days of feverish toil under a burning sun and in the steamy heat of the flooded holds had worn him to skin and bone. His duck garments hung with a significant slackness about his gaunt frame, and they were rent in places, as well as blackened and smeared with oil. His face was grim and hollow, but there was a fierce steadfastness in his eyes, which seemed filled with curious brilliancy.
"Are you going to sleep down there? Can't you send up another cask?" he said.
A voice came up from the dusky hatch, out of which there flowed a hot, sour smell of palm oil and putrefying water. "The next tier's jammed up under the orlop beams," it said. "We might get on a little if we could break a puncheon out."
Jefferson laid his hands upon the combing of the hatch and swung himself over. It was a drop of several yards, and he came down upon the slippery round of a big puncheon, and reeling across the barrels, fell backwards against an angle-iron. He was, however, up again in a moment, and stood blinking about him with eyes dazzled by the change from the almost intolerable brightness above. Blurred figures were standing more than ankle deep inwater on the slanted rows of puncheons, and Jefferson, who could not see them very well, blinked again when an Englishman, stripped to the waist, moved towards him. The latter was dripping with yellow oil and perspiration.
"It's this one," he said, and kicked a puncheon viciously. "The derrick-crabs have pulled the tops of the staves off her. They're soaked an' soft with oil. The water underneath's jamming them up, an' you'll see how the tier's keyed down by the orlop-beams."
Jefferson wrenched the iron bar he held away from him and turned to the rest.
"There's a patch of the head clear. Two or three of you get a handspike on to it," he said. "No, shove it lower down. Mas abajo. Now, heave all together. Vamos. Toda fuerza!"
They were barefooted Canary Spaniards, of an astonishing ignorance, but excellent sailormen, and they understood him. Lean, muscular bodies strained and bent, the dew of effort dripped from them; and, as he heaved with lips set, the hollows grew deeper in Jefferson's grim face. No one spoke; there was only a deep, stertorous gasping, until the puncheon moved a little, and Jefferson, stooping, drove his bar a trifle lower. Then, while he strained every muscle and sinew in strenuous effort, the great, slimy barrel rose again, tilted, and rolled out on its fellows. For a moment it left a space of oily black water where it had been, and then the puncheons closed in with a crash again. Jefferson flung the bar down and straightened himself.
"Now," he said wearily, "you can get ahead."
He crawled up the ladder with a curious languidness, and while one of the Englishmen apostrophised the puncheons the Spaniards went back to their task. The Castilian is not supposed to be remarkable for diligence, but there is, at least among the lower ranks of men in whom theIberian blood flows, a capacity for patient toil and uncomplaining endurance which, while not always very apparent, nevertheless shows itself unmistakably under pressure of circumstances. These were simple men, who had never been encouraged to think for themselves, and were, therefore, like other Spaniards of their degree, perhaps, incapable of undertaking anything on their own initiative, but they could do a great deal under the right leader, and they had him in Jefferson.
One of the Englishmen, however, was not quite satisfied. He had been in the tropics before, and did not like the curious flush in Jefferson's face or the way the swollen veins showed on his forehead, so he climbed the ladder after him and leaned upon the winch-drum looking at him meditatively. The man was very ragged as well as very dirty, and altogether disreputable, so far as appearance went, while it is probable that in several respects his character left a good deal to be desired.
"Here's your hat. It's wet, but that's no harm," he said. "You forgot it. Hadn't you better put it on quick?"
Jefferson, who recognised the wisdom of this, did so.
"That's all right! Well, what—are—you stopping for?" he said.
The other man still regarded him contemplatively. "I know my place—but things isn't quite the same aboard this 'ooker as they would be on a big, two-funnel liner. You couldn't expect it. That's why I come up just now to speak to you. You're not feelin' well to-day?"
"It's not worth worrying about. I guess nobody but a nigger ever does feel well in this country."
The other man shook his head. "You go slow. I've seen it comin' on," he said. "You oughtn't to 'a' had your hat off a minute. You see, if you drop out, how's Bill an' me to get the bonus you promised us?"
Jefferson laughed, though he found, somewhat to his concern, that he could not see the man very well.
"I'm going to hold up until I knock the bottom of this contract out," he said, good-humouredly. "I can't do it if I stop and talk to you. Get a move on. Light out of this!"
The man went back. He had done what he felt was his duty, though he had not expected that it would be of very much use, and Jefferson started the winch. It hammered and rattled, and the barrels came up, slimy and dripping, with patches of whitewash still clinging to them. The glare of it dazzled Jefferson until he could scarcely see them as they swung beneath the derrick-boom, but he managed to drop them into the surfboat alongside and pile the rest on deck, when she slid down the creek with a row of negroes paddling on either side. The steamer had struck the forest at the time of highest water, and it was necessary to take everything out of her if she was to be floated during the coming rainy season.
He toiled on for another hour, with a racking pain in his head, and the Canarios toiled in the stifling hold below, until there was a jar and a rattle, and a big puncheon that should have gone into the surfboat came down with a crash amidst them, and, bursting, splashed them with yellow oil. Then the man who had remonstrated with Jefferson went up the ladder in haste. The winch had stopped, and Jefferson lay across it, amidst a coil of slack wire, with a suffused face. The man, who stooped over him, shouted, and the rest who came up helped to carry him to his room beneath the bridge. The floor was slanted so that one could scarcely stand on it, and as the berth took the same list, they laid him where the side of it met the bulkhead. He lay there, speechless, with half-closed eyes, and water and palm oil soaking from him.
"Now," said the man who had given Jefferson good advice, "you'll get these Spaniards out of this, Bill. Then you'll go on breaking the puncheons out. Wall-eye, here, can run the winch for you, but you can come back in half an hour when I've found out what's wrong with the skipper."
Bill seemed to recognise that his comrade had risen to the occasion. "Well," he said, "I s'pose there's no use in me sayin' anything. All I want to know is, how you're going to do it?"
"See that?" and the other man pointed to a chest beneath the settee. "It's full of medicines, an' there's a book about them. Good ole Board of Trade!"
"How d'you know those medicines arn't all gorn?" asked Bill.
"They arn't. I've been in. There's a bottle of sweet paregoricky stuff I came round for a swigg of when Mr. Jefferson wasn't there now and then. It warms you up kind of comfortin'."
Bill went away with the Spaniards, and, in place of improving the occasion by looking for liquor, as he might, perhaps, have been expected to do, went on with his task. The English sailorman does not always express himself delicately, but he is, now, at least, very far from being the dissolute, unintelligent ruffian he is sometimes supposed to be. There is no doubt of this, for shipowners know their business, and while there is no lack of Teutons and cheerful, sober Scandinavians, a certain proportion of English seamen still go to sea in English ships. The man who sat in Jefferson's room could, at least, understand the treatise in the medicine chest, although it was one approved by the Board of Trade, which august body has apparently no great fondness for lucid explanations. He was, however, still pouring over it when his comrade thrust his head intothe doorway again, and it is possible that Jefferson had not suffered greatly from the fact that he had not as yet quite decided on any course of treatment.
"Well," said the newcomer, "I s'pose you know what he—has—got?"
"Come in, an' sit down there," said the other. "It's fever, for one thing—I've seen it coming on—an' sunstroke for another. What I'm stuck at is if I'm to treat them both together."
Bill looked reflective. "I think I'd take them one at a time. Get the sunstroke out of him, an' then go for the fever. How d' you start on it, Tom?"
"Undo his clothes. That's easy. The buttons is mostly off them, an' he has hardly any on. Then you put cold water on his head."
"That's not easy, anyway! Where the blazes are you going to get cold water from?"
It was somewhat of a paradox, for while there is plenty of water in Western Africa, none of it is cold. Tom, however, was once more equal to the occasion.
"We could get a big spanner from the engine room, an' put it on his head," he said. "There's plenty of them. S'pose you go an' bring one. Any way, we'll swill him with the coldest water we can get."
They laid a soaked singlet upon his head with a couple of iron spanners under it, and then sat down to watch the effect. Somewhat to their astonishment, it did not appear to do him any appreciable good. Darkness closed down as they waited, and it seemed to grow hotter than ever, while the thick white steam rose from the swamps. Tom stood up and lighted the lamp.
"The fever's easier," he said. "I've had it. You give him the mixture—it's down in the book—though I don't know what the meaning of all these sign things is. Thatstarts him perspiring, an' then it's thick blankets. We used to give them green-lime water in the mailboats."
"Where's the green limes?" said Bill. "Any way, I'd give the sunstroke a decent chance first. Perhaps he'll come out of it himself. I don't know that it wouldn't be better if he did."
Jefferson came out of his limp unconsciousness into a raving delirium that night, and they rolled him in two blankets, while Bill, being left on watch, wisely threw away the draught his comrade had concocted. Jefferson was also very little more sensible during the next few days, and, though the work went on, before the week was over the two lonely Englishmen found they had another difficulty to grapple with. The sun was almost overhead, and the iron deck, insufferably hot, when the surfboat negroes, who had just finished their meal, came forward together, eight or nine big, naked men, with animal faces and splendid muscles. Nobody knew where they came from, but when two or three of them appeared in a canoe, Jefferson had managed to make them understand that he was willing to pay them for their services, and they forthwith went away, and came back with several comrades and a man of shorter stature who had apparently worked on a steamboat or at a white man's factory. They had worked tolerably well while Jefferson was about to watch them, but they had now apparently decided on another mode of behaviour, for the attitude of their leader was unmistakably truculent. The man called Bill, sitting on the fore hatch, turned at the patter of naked feet, and looked at him.
"Well," he said sharply, "what the —— are you wanting?"
"Two bokus them green gin," said the negro. "Two lil' piece of cloff every boy."
Tom laughed ironically. "There isn't any green ginbokus in the ship, for one thing. You'll get your cloth-piece when the work is done. That's all I've got to say to you. Get out of this!"
The negro made a little forceful gesture. "You no cappy."
"Well," said Bill, drily, "he figures he's a bloomin' admiral in the meanwhile, and that's good enough for you. Go home again, and don't worry me."
"Two cloff-piece," said the negro. "Two cloff-piece every boy. You no lib for get them, we come down too much boy an' take them 'teamboat from you."
The white men looked at one another, and it was evident that they were uncertain how far the negro might be able to make good his threat. There was, as it happened, very little to prevent him doing it, and stockaded factories, as well as stranded steamboats, have been looted in Western Africa. Still, they remembered that they had the prestige of their colour to maintain.
"Oh, get out one time!" said Tom.
The negro turned upon him. "You no cappy. You low, white 'teamboat bushman. Too much boy he lib for come down one night an' cut you big fat t'roat."
Bill, who was big and brawny, rose with an air of sorrowful resignation. "This —— nonsense has got to be stopped," he said, and walked tranquilly towards the negro. "You wouldn't listen to reason, Black-funnel-paint."
Then, before the latter quite realised what had happened to him, a grimy fist descended upon his jaw, and as he staggered backwards somebody seized his shoulders and whirled him round. In another moment Bill kicked with all his might, and the negro went out headlong through the open gangway into the creek alongside. In the meanwhile the Spaniards came tumbling from the hatch, and, though they were quiet men, they carried long Canaryknives. The sight of them was enough for the negroes, and they followed their leader, plunging from the gangway or over the rail. Their canoes still lay beneath the quarter, and though Tom hurled a few big lumps of coal on them as they got under way, they were flying up the creek in another minute, with paddles flashing.
Then Bill explained the affair to the Canarios as well as he could, and afterward drew his comrade back into the shadow of the deck-house to hold a council. Both of them felt somewhat lonely as they blinked at the desolation of dingy mangroves which hemmed them in. There was, so far as they knew, not a white man in that part of Africa, and the intentions of the negroes were apparently by no means amicable.
"Funnel-paint may come back an' bring his friends," said Tom. "I don't know what's to stop him if he wants to. There's not a gun in the ship except Mr. Jefferson's pistol, an' those Canary fellows' knives, an' we can't worry Mr. Jefferson about the thing when he's too sick to understand. If I'd only begun on him for fever he might have been better."
"I'm thankful," said Bill, "as he isn't dead. It wouldn't be very astonishing, but that don't matter."
"You'd think it mattered a good deal if you was Mr. Jefferson. If I wasn't that anxious about him I'd let you try your hand an' see how easy it is worrying out that book. As it is, one of us is enough."
"I'm thinking," said Bill sourly, "as it's a —— sight too much!"
Tom glared at him a moment, for one of the effects that climate has upon a white man's nerves is to keep him in a state of prickly irritation; but he was more anxious than he cared to confess, too anxious, indeed, to force a quarrel.
"Well," he said, "I'll ask you what you mean another time. Just now, we've got to do a little for Mr. Jefferson and a little for ourselves. Eight pound a month, all found, and a fifty-pound bonus when he gets her off, isn't to be picked up everywhere, and, of course, there's no telling when you an' me may get the fever. Now, then, we want a boss who isn't sick, an' more men, as well as a doctor."
"Of course. How're you goin' to get 'em?"
"Not here. They don't grow in the swamps. Somebody's got to go for them, an' Las Palmas is the best place. You could find a West-coast mailboat goin' home if you went down the creek in the launch. They've a man or two sick in the engine room most trips, an' they'd be glad to take you firin'. Now, before Mr. Jefferson got that sunstroke he showed me two envelopes. If he was to peg out sudden I was to see the men in Las Palmas got them, and they'd tell me what to do. Men do peg out at any time in this country. Well, you look for a liner an' take those letters. If it's a good boat she'll only be four or five days steaming up the trades. Mr. Jefferson deserves a chance for his life."
"What's wrong with takin' him, too; or all of us goin', for that matter?" asked his companion.
"Eight pounds a month, an' a bonus! Besides, Mr. Jefferson put all his money into getting this ship off. If he comes round an' finds it thrown away he's not going to be grateful to either of us."
Bill sat silent, evidently thinking hard for a minute or two. "Well," he said, "there's sense in the thing, an' I'll try it. You'll be all right with those Canariers. They're nice quiet men, an' if you make 'em say it over lots of times you can generally understand 'em. Wall-eye canbring the launch back. I'll get out of this when we've steam up."
It was two hours later when he and one of the Canarios who had worked on board the coaling company's tug departed, and the rest, clustering along theCumbria's rail, watched them wistfully as the little clanking craft slid down the creek. They would very much have liked to have gone in her, and might have done so had not Jefferson had the forethought to promise them a small share of the profit when the work was done, and fed them well. There are also men who inspire confidence in those they lead, and sailormen capable of carrying out a bargain. Thus there were no open expressions of regret or misgivings when the last of the launch's smoke-trail melted above the mangroves, though Tom looked very grave as he clawed the shoulder of an olive-faced Canario seaman who did not understand him.
"If that man goes on the loose with what he gets for firin', an' forgets all about those letters, it won't be nice for us," he said. "In the meanwhile, we've just got to buck up and lighten the blame old scrap-iron tank between us."
He called her a few other names while the Spaniard watched him, smiling, and, having so relieved himself, went softly into the skipper's room, where Jefferson lay, a worn-out shadow of a man, wrapped in very dirty blankets, and babbling incoherently.
It was late one hot night when Austin first met Captain Farquhar of the S.S.Carsegarryin a calle of Santa Cruz, and the worthy shipmaster, being then in a somewhat unpleasant position, was sincerely pleased to see him. TheCarsegarryhad reached Las Palmas with three thousand tons of steam coal some ten days earlier, and, because there are disadvantages attached to living on board a vessel that is discharging coal, Farquhar had taken up his abode at the Metropole. He had, as usual, made friends with almost everybody in the hotel during the first few days, which said a good deal for his capabilities, considering that most of them were Englishmen; and then, finding their society pall on him, went across to Santa Cruz in search of adventure and more congenial company.
As it happened, he found the latter in the person of another Englishman with similar tastes; and one or two of their frolics are remembered in that island yet. On the night Farquhar came across Austin they had amused themselves not altogether wisely in a certain café, from which its proprietor begged them to depart when they had broken one citizen's guitar and damaged another's clothes. Then, as it was getting late, they adjourned to the mole, where the Englishman had arranged that a boat at his command should meet them, and convey Farquhar, who was going back to Las Palmas next day, on board theEstremedura.The boat was not forthcoming, and the Englishman's temper deteriorated while they waited half an hour for it, until when at last the splash of oars came out of the soft darkness he was not only in a very unpleasant humour, but determined upon showing his companion that he was not a man with whom a Spanish crew could take liberties.
There was also a pile of limestone on the mole, and when a shadowy launch slid into the blackness beneath it he hurled down the biggest lumps he could find, as well as a torrent of Castilian vituperation. Then, however, instead of the excuses he had expected, there were wrathful cries, and the Englishman gasped when he saw dim, white-clad figures clambering in portentous haste up the adjacent steps.
"We'll have to get out of this—quick!" he said. "I've made a little mistake. It's somebody else's boat."
They set about it without waste of time, but there was a good deal of merchandise lying about the mole, and the Englishman, who fell over some of it, lay still until a peon came across him peacefully asleep behind a barrel next morning. Farquhar, however, ran on, snatching up a handspike as he went, with odd lumps of limestone hurtling behind him; and as he and his pursuers made a good deal of noise as they sped across the plaza at the head of the mole, the citizens still left in the cafés turned out to enjoy the spectacle. English seafarers are tolerated in that city, but it is, perhaps, their own fault that they are not regarded with any particular favour, and when Farquhar turned at bay in a doorway and proceeded to defy all the subjects of Spain, nobody was anxious to stand between him and the barelegged sailors, who had nasty knives. It might, in fact, have gone hard with him had not two civiles, with big revolvers strapped about them, arrived.
They heard the crowd's explanations with official unconcern, and then, though it was, perhaps, their duty to place Farquhar in safe custody in the cuartel, decided on sending for Austin, who was known to be staying that night in a neighbouring hotel. He had befriended English skippers already under somewhat similar circumstances, and the civiles, who knew their business, were quite aware that nobody would thank them for forcing the affair upon the attention of the English Consul. Austin came, and saw Farquhar gazing angrily at the civiles and still gripping his bar, while the crowd stood round and made insulting remarks about him in Castilian. He at once grasped the position, and made a sign of concurrence when one of the civiles spoke to him.
"You take him to his steamer," said the officer. "One of us will come round in the morning when he understands."
Austin turned to Farquhar. "Give the man that bar," he said. "Come along, and I'll send you off to your steamer."
"I'm going to have satisfaction out of some of them first," and Farquhar made an indignant gesture of protest. "Then I'll knock up the Consul. I'll show them if a crowd of garlic-eating pigs can run after me."
"If you stop here you'll probably get it, in the shape of a knife between your ribs," said Austin, who seized his arm. "A wise man doesn't drag in the Consul when he wants to keep his berth."
He forced Farquhar, who still protested vigorously, along, and, because the civiles marched behind, conveyed him to the mole, where a boat was procured to take them off to theEstremedura. Farquhar had cooled down a little by the time they reached her, and appeared grateful when Austin put him into his berth.
"Perhaps you did save me some trouble, and I'll notforget you," he said. "Take you round all the nice people in Las Palmas and tell them you're a friend of mine."
"I'm not sure it would be very much of a recommendation," said Austin, drily.
Farquhar laughed. "That's where you're mistaken. When I've been a week in a place I'm friends with everybody worth knowing."
"If to-night's affair is anything to go by, it's a little difficult to understand how you manage it," said Austin.
"It's quite easy to be looked up to, and still have your fun," and Farquhar lowered his voice confidentially. "When folks think a good deal of you in one place you have only to go somewhere else when you feel the fit coming on."
TheEstremedurasailed for Las Palmas next morning, and on arriving there Austin was somewhat astonished to discover that Farquhar had, in fact, acquired the good-will of a good many people of consequence in that city. He was a genial, frolic-loving man, and Austin, who became sensible of a liking for him, spent a good deal of his leisure on board theCarsegarry, while, when theEstremeduracame back there, he also consented to advise Farquhar about the getting up of a dance to which everybody was invited. It was a testimony to the latter's capacity for making friends that a good many of them came, and among the rest were Pancho Brown, his daughter, Muriel Gascoyne, and Mrs. Hatherly, as well as the commander of a Spanish warship, and several officers of artillery.
The night was soft and still, and clear moonlight shone down upon the sea. The trade breeze had fallen away, and only a little cool air came down from the black Isleta hill, while fleecy mists drifted ethereally athwart the jagged peaks of the great cordillera. An orchestra of guitars and mandolins discoursed Spanish music from the poop, and there was room for bolero and casucha on the big after-hatch, while, when the waltzers had swung round it, theCarsegarry's engineer made shift to play the English lancers on his fiddle. Everybody seemed content, and the genial Farquhar diffused high spirits and good humour.
Austin had swung through a waltz with Jacinta, though the guitars were still twinging softly when they climbed the ladder to the bridge-deck, where canvas chairs were laid out. It was a curious waltz, tinged with the melancholy there is in most Spanish music, but the crash of a gun broke through it, and while the roar of a whistle drowned the drowsy murmur of the surf, the long black hull of an African mailboat slid into the harbour ringed with lights. Then there followed the rattle of cable, and Austin fancied that the sight of the steamer had, for no very apparent reason, its effect upon his companion. She had been cordial during the evening, but there was a faint suggestion of hardness in her face as she turned to him.
"I am especially fond of that waltz," she said. "You may have noticed there's a trace of what one might call the bizarre in it. No doubt, it's Eastern. They got it from the Moors."
"It only struck me as very pretty," said Austin, who surmised by her expression that Jacinta was preparing the way for what she meant to say. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a musician."
"You, at least, dance rather well. There are not many Englishmen who really do, which is, perhaps, no great disadvantage, after all."
Austin laughed, though he was a trifle perplexed. "Well," he said, "though you don't overwhelm me with compliments, as a rule, you have told me that I could dance before. Now, however, one could almost fancy that the fact didn't meet with your approval."
Jacinta looked at him reflectively over her fan. "Iscarcely supposed you would understand, and one does not always feel in the mood to undertake a logical exposition of their views. Still, here's Muriel, and she, at least, generally seems to know just what she means. Suppose you ask her what she thinks of dancing."
Austin did so, and Miss Gascoyne, who was crossing the deck-bridge with Farquhar, stopped beside them.
"I don't think there is any harm in dancing, in itself—in fact, I have just been waltzing with Captain Farquhar," she said. "Of course, the disadvantage attached to amusements of any kind is that they may distract one's attention from more serious things. Don't you think so, Captain Farquhar?"
Farquhar caught Austin's eye, and grinned wickedly, but Miss Gascoyne, who failed to notice this, glanced towards the steamer which had just come in.
"That must be the African boat, but I suppose there is no use expecting any news?" she said quietly, though there was a faint suggestive tremour in her voice.
She passed on with Farquhar, and Jacinta glanced at Austin with a little enquiring smile.
"If I had a sister who persisted in talking in that aggravatingly edifying fashion, I should feel tempted to shake her," he said. "Still, one could forgive her a good deal if only for the way she looked at the West-coast boat. It suggested that she has as much humanity in her as there is in the rest of us, after all."
"Still, don't you think there was a little reason in what she said?"
"Of course. That is, no doubt, why one objects to it. Well, since it's difficult to keep the personal equation out, I suppose dancing and sailing about these islands on board theEstremedurais rather a wasteful life. Painting littlepictures probably comes to much the same thing, too, though there are people who seem to take art seriously."
Jacinta looked at him steadily. "When one has really an artistic talent it is different," she said.
Austin, who hoped she did not notice that he winced, sat silent a space, gazing out across the glittering sea, and it was not altogether a coincidence that his eyes were turned eastwards towards Africa, where Jefferson was toiling in the fever swamps. He wondered if Jacinta knew his thoughts had also turned in that direction somewhat frequently of late.
"Well," he said, "I suppose it is. Some of those pictures must be pretty, or the tourists wouldn't buy them, but that doesn't go very far, after all." He stopped a moment, and then went on with a little wry smile. "No doubt some patients require drastic treatment, and there are cases where it is necessary to use the knife."
Jacinta rose, and, dropping her fan to her side, gravely met his gaze.
"If it wasn't, it would probably not be tried," she said. "One could fancy that it was, now and then, a little painful to the surgeon."
Austin walked with her to the ladder, and stopped a moment at the head of it. "Well," he said, "one has to remember that all men are not built on the same model, and, what is more to the purpose, they haven't all the same opportunities. No doubt the latter fact is fortunate for some of them, since they would probably make a deplorable mess of things if they undertook a big enterprise."
"Ah!" said Jacinta, who remembered it afterwards, "one never knows when the opportunities may present themselves."
She went down the ladder, and it was about an hour later when a boat slid alongside, and a man came up, askingfor Austin. The latter, who sat on the bridge-deck amidst a group of Farquhar's guests, looked at him curiously when he handed him an envelope. His garments had evidently not been made for him, and there were stains of grease and soot on his coarse serge jacket, while the coal dust had not been wholly washed from his face. It was not difficult to recognise him as a steamer's fireman.
"You're Mr. Austin?" he said.
Austin admitted that he was, and after a glance at the letter turned round and saw that Muriel Gascoyne, who sat close by, was watching him with a curious intentness. Then he once more fixed his attention on the paper in his hand.
"S.S.Cumbria" was written at the top of it, and there followed a description of the creek, and how the steamer lay, as well as the cargo in her holds. Then he read: "I'm beginning to understand why those wrecker fellows let up on the contract, though they hadn't the stake I have in the game. There are times when I get wondering whether I can last it out, for it seems to me that white men who work in the sun all day are apt to drop out suddenly in this country. I make you and Mr. Pancho Brown my executors in case of anything of that kind happening to me. If you come across anybody willing to take theCumbriaover as a business proposition, do what you can, on the understanding that one-third of the profit goes to Miss Gascoyne, the rest as executors' and wreckers' remuneration. I don't know how far this statement meets your law, but I feel I can trust you, any way. In case either party is not willing to take the thing up, the other may act alone."
Austin turned to the fireman. "You have another letter for Mr. Brown?"
"Yes, sir," said the man. "Mr. Jefferson——"
Austin, who heard a rustle of feminine draperies and what seemed to be a little gasp of surprise or alarm, made the man a sign.
"Come into the skipper's room. I've two or three things to ask you," he said. "Miss Brown, will you please hand that letter to your father?"
They disappeared into the room beneath the bridge, and it was some time before they came out again. Then Austin sent the man down the ladder with a steward to take him to Brown, and leaned against the rail. Jacinta, Muriel, and Mrs. Hatherly were still sitting there, but the rest had gone. He told them briefly all he had heard about Jefferson, and then descended the ladder in search of Brown. The latter met him with the letter in his hand, and they found a seat in the shadow of theCarsegarry's rail. Nobody seemed to notice them, though the fluttering dresses of the women brushed them as they swung in the waltz.
"You have read it," said Austin. "What do you think?"
Pancho Brown tapped the letter with the gold-rimmed glasses he held in his hand.
"As a business proposition I would not look at it. The risks are too great," he said.
"It struck me like that, too. Still, that's not quite the question. You see, the man isn't dead."
"I almost think he is by this time," said Brown, reflectively. "Now, he did not seem quite sure when he wrote those letters that there was really any gum in her. At least, he hadn't found it, and I understand that circumstances had made him a little suspicious about theCumbria's skipper, who we know is dead. Taking oil at present value, in view of what we would have to pay for a salvage expedition and chartering, there is, it seems to me, nothing in the thing."
"I'm not quite sure of that; but you are still presuming Jefferson dead."
Brown turned and looked at him. "The first thing we have to do is to find out. Somebody will have to go across, and, of course, he must be a reliable man. I should be disposed to go so far as to meet the necessary expenses, not as a business venture, but because Jacinta would give me no peace if I didn't."
"There would be no difficulty about the man."
Brown turned to him sharply. "You?"
"Yes. If Jefferson is dead I should probably also undertake to do what I can to meet his wishes as executor."
Brown sat silent a space, and then tapped the letter with his glasses again. "In that case I might go as far as to find, say, £200. It should, at least, be sufficient to prove if there is any odd chance of getting theCumbriaoff."
"I think I shall do that with £80, but I should prefer that you did not provide it. That is, unless you decide to go into the thing on a business footing, and take your share of the results, as laid down by Jefferson."
Brown seemed to be looking hard at him, but they sat in shadow, and Austin was glad of it.
"Ah!" he said quietly, though there was a significance in his tone. "Well, somebody must certainly go across, and if you fail elsewhere you can always fall back on me for—a loan. When are you going?"
"By the first boat that calls anywhere near the creek."
He rose and turned away, but Pancho Brown sat still, with a curious expression in his face. If any of the dancers had noticed him, it would probably have occurred to them that he was thinking hard. Pancho Brown was a quiet man, but he often noticed a good deal more than his daughter gave him credit for. Still, when at length he rose andjoined Farquhar there was nothing in his appearance which suggested that he was either anxious or displeased.
In the meanwhile Austin came upon Mrs. Hatherly, who was wandering up and down the deck, and she drew him beneath a lifeboat.
"Miss Gascoyne is, no doubt, distressed? I am sorry for her," he said.
The little lady held his arm in a tightening grasp. "Of course," she said, and there was a tremour in her voice. "Still, after all, that does not concern us most just now. Somebody must go, and see what can be done for Mr. Jefferson."
"Yes," said Austin. "I am going."
"Then—and I am sure you will excuse me—it will cost a good deal, and you cannot be a rich man, or——"
"I should not have been on board theEstremedura? You are quite correct, madam."
Mrs. Hatherly made a little deprecatory gesture. "I am not exactly poor; in fact, I have more money than I shall live to spend, and I always meant to leave it to Muriel. It seems to me that it would be wiser to spend some of it on her now. You will let me give you what you want, Mr. Austin?"
Austin stood silent a moment, with a flush in his face, and then gravely met her gaze.
"I almost think I could let you lend me forty pounds. With that I shall have enough in the meanwhile. You will not think me ungracious if I say that just now I am especially sorry I have not more money of my own?"
The little lady smiled at him. "Oh, I understand. That is what made me almost afraid. It cannot be nice to borrow from a woman. Still, I think you could, if it was necessary, do even harder things."
"I shall probably have to," said Austin, a trifle drily."I don't mind admitting that what you have suggested is a great relief to me."
"You would naturally sooner let me lend it you than Mr. Brown?"
"Why should you suppose that?" and the flush crept back into Austin's face.
Mrs. Hatherly smiled again. "Ah," she said, "I am an old woman, and have my fancies, but they are right now and then. I will send you a cheque to-morrow, and, Mr. Austin, I should like you to think of me as one of your friends. Do you know that I told Muriel half an hour ago you would go?"
Austin made her a little grave inclination, though there was a smile in his eyes.
"I am not sure that any of my other friends has so much confidence in me, madam," he said. "After all, it is another responsibility, and I shall have to do what I can."
The little lady smiled at him as she turned away. "Well," she said quietly, "I think that will be a good deal."
It was ten minutes later when Austin met Jacinta, and she stopped him with a sign.
"You are going to Mr. Jefferson?" she said.
"Yes," said Austin, with a trace of dryness. "I believe so. After all, he is a friend of mine."
Jacinta watched him closely, and her pale, olive-tinting was a trifle warmer in tone than usual. His self-control was excellent, to the little smile, but she could make a shrewd guess as to what it cost him.
"Soon?" she asked.
"In two or three days. That is, if the Compania don't get the Spaniards to lay hands on me. By the way, you may as well know now that I had to get Mrs. Hatherly to lend me part, at least, of the necessary money."
Jacinta flushed visibly. "You will not be vindictive,though, of course, I have now and then been hard on you."
"I shouldn't venture to blame you. As we admitted, there are occasions on which one has to resort to drastic remedies."
Jacinta stopped him with a gesture. "Please—you won't," she said. "Of course, I deserve it, but you will try to forgive me. You can afford to—now."
She stood still a moment in the moonlight, an ethereal, white-clad figure, with a suggestion of uncertainly and apprehension in her face which very few people had ever seen there before, and then turned abruptly, with a little smile of relief, as Miss Gascoyne came towards them.
"He's going out, Muriel. You will thank him—I don't seem able to," she said.
Muriel came forward with outstretched hands, and in another moment Austin, to his visible embarrassment, felt her warm grasp.
"Oh," she said, "Mrs. Hatherly knew you meant to. I feel quite sure I can trust you to bring him back to me."
Austin managed to disengage his hands, and smiled a little, though it was Jacinta he looked at.
"I think," he said, "I have a sufficient inducement for doing what I can. Still, you will excuse me. There are one or two points I want to talk over with Captain Farquhar."
He turned away, and twenty minutes later Jacinta, standing on the bridge-deck, alone, watched his boat slide away into the blaze of moonlight that stretched suggestively towards Africa.