For a time, Kit wandered about the arcade, talking now and then to people he knew. The doctor had forbidden him to return to Adam's room and the president said it was important the guests should not know that anything unusual had happened. Although Kit watched the stairs anxiously, nobody came down, but he saw the mayor-domo going quietly about and servants came and went on mysterious errands. When he looked out he found the sentries had been doubled on the terrace and one stopped when, for a few moments, Kit left the arch, but the soldier knew him and marched on. While it was obvious that the waiter was being looked for, Kit thought the search had begun too late.
At length, Alvarez sent for him, and although his heart beat as he followed the messenger he felt some relief when he saw the president.
"I have good news," the latter said. "The doctor is no longer anxious and you may see your uncle in the morning. It looks as if Don Adam's caution saved him."
"You mean when he refused the anisado?"
Alvarez nodded. "It is a strong-smelling liquor and one drinks a small quantity, taking water afterwards, if one wants. Don Adam knows the country, and after all my enemies have not much imagination. To offer him anisado was a rather obvious trick."
"I'm thankful they failed," Kit said sternly, and clenched his fist with sudden passion. "If they had not—"
"One understands, Don Cristoval; I have felt like that when the plotters did not fail," Alvarez answered with grim sympathy. He was silent for a moment or two and Kit imagined he was thinking about his murdered son. Then he resumed: "Well, we shall have a reckoning and it will be bad for the dogs when I send in my bill. But that must wait, and I would like you to dance. I see Señorita Sarmiento is not engaged and she dances well."
"I doubt if Dona Francisca would care to dance with me again."
"Ah," said Alvarez, "one should not be too modest! Francisca is a politician, but she is a woman. Perhaps you found she is not on my side?"
"I imagined she was not."
Alvarez shrugged. "Well, I do not fight with women, although they are sometimes dangerous. Try again, my friend. Just now we are all playing at make-believe."
Kit obeyed and found Francisca gracious. She danced with him and afterwards allowed him to sit by her. By and by she remarked: "I have not seen Señor Askew for some time."
"He was not very well," said Kit.
Francisca studied his face. "I hope his illness is not serious. I thoughtI saw Doctor Martin."
"Fever. My uncle gets it now and then."
"I think I warned you against our fevers," Francisca replied meaningly."There are two or three kinds, but all are not dangerous."
"Some are?" Kit suggested.
"Yes; to foreigners. We others take precautions and are acclimatized."
"Well," said Kit in a thoughtful voice, "I have not had fever yet, but I suppose an unacclimatized adventurer runs some risk."
Francisca played with her fan and Kit imagined she was pondering.
"A risk that leads to nothing is not worth while," she remarked. "I think it would be prudent if you left the country while you are well."
"I should be sorry if I thought you wanted me to go," said Kit.
"That is cheap, señor. I gave you good advice."
"Oh, well," said Kit, "I really think you did. There are matters about which we do not agree; but I believe you are too kind to let a rather ignorant antagonist get hurt."
Franciscans eyes twinkled as she rejoined: "I like the compliment better than the other. But I am engaged for the next dance and as you are intelligent there is not much more to be said."
Kit went away, thinking rather hard. The girl had some part in the intrigue against the president, and it would obviously be an advantage to her friends if he could be persuaded to leave the country now Adam was ill. Admitting this, he thought her warning sincere. On the whole, he liked Francisca Sarmiento and believed she did not want him to be hurt. If Adam did not get much better and he had to look after things, he would certainly run some risk of a cunning attack by the president's enemies.
When the guests began to leave, Kit went to his room and after some hours of broken sleep was told that Adam wanted him. He found Alvarez in the room and Adam lying, with a flushed face and wet forehead, in a big cane chair. When Kit came in Adam gave him a friendly smile and turned to Alvarez.
"If I'd taken that drink at a wineshop, I'd have deserved all I got," he said. "I allowed I was safe at the presidio."
"It is a stain on my hospitality for which somebody shall pay."
"That's all right," said Adam; "you're not accountable. Looks as if the other fellow was too smart for both of us; but I had a feeling I'd better stick totintoandsiphon. You can generally taste anything suspicious in that mixture and I've been doped before. But, as I'm an American citizen and American influence is powerful, I didn't expect they'd be bold enough to get after me."
Alvarez smiled. "Our climate is unhealthy, but if you had died and suspicion was excited, your countrymen would have made the president responsible. That would have been another embarrassment and I have enough."
"Galdar's friends are a cunning lot," Adam replied. "Well, I think your doctor has fixed me up for a time. What about your plans?"
"I had some talk with my supporters last night and we agreed to strike when theRio Negro'scargo arrives. We need the guns and money to pay my troops, and when we get them we will arrest the leading conspirators. This will start the revolution, but it will fail if my blow is struck before Galdar is ready."
"Yes," said Adam. "We can trust Mayne; he knows he's got to hustle. I've fixed it for him to get the Spanish money at Havana and that will mean losing a day or two, but the oldRio Negrocan hit up a pretty good pace and Mayne won't spare his coal. I reckon we'll hear from him soon."
Adam stopped and Kit, seeing that it cost him an effort to talk, took the president away. They met the doctor on the stairs and Kit waited at the bottom until he came down. Señor Martin was a fat, dark-skinned, Spanish Creole.
"Your uncle is an obstinate man and will not take a hint," he remarked."I had some trouble to save him and he may not escape next time."
"Then you imagine there will be another time?"
Señor Martin shrugged expressively, "I am a doctor not a politician, but in this country much depends upon the risk of being found out. Señor Askew is old and not strong. One must pay for leading a strenuous life and he has had malaria for some years. He ought to remain in the North. It is your business to persuade him, but do not disturb him yet."
"I will try," Kit said doubtfully. "You think it needful?"
"If he does not go soon, he will not go at all," the doctor replied in a meaning tone.
He went away and some time afterwards Kit returned to his uncle's room. The shutters were pushed back from the balcony window and the strong light, reflected by the white wall, showed the thinness of Adam's figure and the deep lines on his face. His skin was a curious yellow color and his eyes were dull.
"You haven't been well for some time and the stuff you got last night has shaken you rather badly," Kit remarked with a touch of embarrassment. "I think you ought to go back with Mayne."
"You imagine you can manage things better without me?" Adam rejoined.
"No," said Kit, coloring. "It's a big and awkward job, but perhaps I can manage. I feel you ought to go."
"It looks as if the doctor had put you on my track. He's been arguing with me. What did he say?"
Kit hesitated and Adam smiled. "I can guess, partner, and perhaps he was right. Well, I'm getting old and have a notion I won't live long, anyway. Don't see that it matters much if I go or stay, and I've a reason for staying you don't know yet. Besides, I hate to be beaten and mean to put over my last job." He paused and gave Kit a steady look. "There's one drawback; putting it over may cost you something."
"That doesn't count," Kit said quietly. "What you have is yours; I expect you earned it hard."
"I certainly did," Adam agreed. "I earned part of what I've got by jobs that cost me more than my health. I'd wipe out some of my early deals, if I could. Well, I don't know if playing a straight game on a losing hand will cancel past mistakes, but I feel I've got to play it out. My wad and yours are in the pool."
"It's not my wad," Kit objected. "You have treated me generously."
"Oh, well!" said Adam. "Perhaps I'll ask you to remember that by and by. In the meantime, I've no use for arguing and am going to stop. We'll say no more about it, but if I'm too sick to handle things, you'll take control. You know my plans, and that's enough; I don't need your promises that you won't let me down. Now you can get out. I'm going to sleep."
Kit went away, feeling moved, but anxious. His uncle trusted him and he had got strangely fond of the Buccaneer. Adam had his faults and his career had been marked by incidents that were hard to justify, but he was staunch to his friends. Kit did not know how far Alvarez deserved his staunch support, and suspected that Adam was, to some extent, moved by pride. He meant to make good before he let things go. Kit resolved that when the old man's hands lost the grip he would take firm hold.
Next day Adam was obviously worse and when two or three more had passed the doctor looked anxious. Then, one hot evening, the president brought Kit a letter addressed to his uncle.
"Don Adam is asleep and must not be disturbed," he said. "Perhaps you had better read this. It may be about theRio Negro."
Kit opened the envelope and frowned. The letter was from Mayne, who stated that he had met bad weather soon after leaving port and the racing of the engines in a heavy sea had caused some damage. He had, however, reached Havana, where he had received the Spanish money, and did not know what to do. Some time would be required to repair the damage, but it would be risky to resume the voyage with disabled engines. Kit gave the letter to the president, whose dark face flushed, and for a few moments he stormed with Spanish fury.
"This dog of a sailor has been bought!" he cried, clenching his hands as he walked about the floor. "If the money does not arrive soon, it will be too late; my soldiers will not take our notes. Galdar has paid him to ruin me."
Kit, knowing the emotional character of the half-breeds, let him rage. Alvarez did not often lose his self-control and he had some grounds for feeling disturbed. When he stopped, Kit said quietly, "The captain is honest, but if he loses his ship with the guns and money on board, it will not help us much. If my uncle is better in the morning, I will see what he thinks; if not, I will decide about the orders to send."
When Alvarez left him he went into the town and after walking about the alameda sat down at a table in front of the café and ordered some wine. This was safer than the black coffee and scented cordials the citizens drank, but he tasted it carefully and gave himself up to anxious thought without draining his glass. The insurance on theRio Negrodid not cover all the risks Mayne would run if he left port with disabled engines, and the coast was dangerous. The loss of the ship would be a blow, but if Mayne did not leave Havana soon the freight might arrive after the president's fall. Kit, feeling his responsibility, shrank from the momentous choice, and while he pondered Olsen came up and occupied a chair opposite.
"Drinkingtinto!" he remarked. "Well, I guess that's prudent. But how's the Buccaneer? He's been looking shaky and I heard he was ill."
Kit wondered how much Olsen knew. He said Adam's fever came and went and he would, no doubt, be better soon. Olsen smiled and shook his head.
"There's no use in giving me that stuff; I know the climate! Askew's going under fast and will never be fit again. I reckon the old man knows he's got to let up, if you don't. What are you going to do when he pulls out?"
"It will need some thought," Kit answered cautiously, since he had grounds for believing the other imagined he was Adam's clerk.
Olsen ordered some vermouth, and then remarked in a meaning tone: "I don't have to be careful about my drinks. There's an advantage in taking the popular side."
"Are you sure yours is the popular side?"
"Wait and see," Olsen rejoined, "though that plan's expensive, because it may be too late when you find out. My employers don't often back the wrong man and I trust their judgment now. If you'll listen, I'll show you."
Kit signed him to go on and Olsen resumed: "The Buccaneer will drop out soon and you'll be left to do the best you can for yourself. Well, I don't suppose you'll get another chance like this; we'll pay you ten thousand dollars if you can keep theRio Negroback for a week."
"That doesn't indicate that you're sure of winning," Kit remarked dryly."Besides, I wouldn't trust Galdar to put up the money."
"I don't ask you to trust Galdar; my people will find the money. In a sense, it doesn't matter to us who is president, except that we want the concessions Galdar promised, and they're worth an extra two thousand pounds. We'll give you American bills for the sum if your steamer lands her cargo too late to be of use."
Kit thought hard. It looked as if Olsen knew theRio Negrohad broken down. If so, he was obviously well informed and his employers were persuaded that the probability of the president's downfall was strong enough to justify the bribe. Two thousand pounds would go some way to making Ashness a model farm, while it was plain that Adam might lose the money he had hinted he meant to leave Kit. Kit, however, did not feel tempted, although he wanted to find out something about Olsen's plans.
"You seem to take my agreement for granted," he remarked. "You must see that I could embarrass you by telling Alvarez."
Olsen laughed. "You could put him wise; but you couldn't embarrass us. The president knows whom he's up against. The trouble is he isn't strong enough to get after us."
"Well, suppose I refuse?"
"You'll be a blame fool. That's all there is to it."
Kit doubted. He knew what had happened to Adam, and, in spite of Olsen's statement, imagined Galdar's friends would not let him warn the president.
"Anyhow, you must give me until the morning. I want to think about it," he said, in order to test his suspicions.
"We can't wait; the thing must be put over now. There's no use in trying to raise my offer. You know our limit."
"Oh, well!" said Kit, "I'm afraid I'll have to let it go. There are difficulties, and if you can't wait—"
Olsen looked at him with surprise, and Kit saw he had not expected his offer to be refused. The fellow had a cynical distrust of human nature that had persuaded him Kit could not resist the temptation; his shallow cleverness sometimes misled him and had done so when he took it for granted that Kit was Adam's clerk.
"You don't mean you're going to turn my offer down?" Olsen said sharply.
"You force me. I can't decide just yet."
Olsen hesitated, knitting his brows. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "that's ridiculous! The thing will cost you nothing, and I'll come up a thousand dollars. You ought to see you must accept."
"I don't see," Kit replied as carelessly as he could, and got up. "Since you can't wait, I understand the matter's off."
He went away, and glancing back as he crossed the street, saw that Olsen's pose was curiously fixed and he seemed to be gazing straight in front. Some of the customers now left the café and Kit lost sight of him. The moon was high and clear, but the black shadows of the trees fell upon the walk through the alameda and there were not many people about. Kit would sooner not have crossed the alameda, although this was his nearest way, but thought he had better do so. Olsen might be watching, and Kit did not want the fellow to imagine he was afraid, since it would indicate that he knew the importance of his refusal. Yet he was afraid, and it cost him something of an effort to plunge into the gloom.
When Kit was half way across the alameda he stopped and looked about. Dark trees rose against the sky; he could smell the eucalyptus and their thin shadows covered the ground with a quivering, open pattern. There was a pool of moonlight, and farther on the solid, fan-shaped reflections of palms. Nobody was near him, although he heard voices across the alameda, and he stood for a few moments, thinking, while his heart beat.
Since he had refused Olsen's offer, caution was advisable, because Kit felt sure the fellow had expected him to agree, and it was obvious that he knew enough to make him dangerous. He distrusted Olsen, who was not a native American, and probably not a Norwegian, as he pretended. There was a mystery about his employers, but Kit suspected that they were Germans, and as a rule the latters' commercial intrigues were marked by an unscrupulous cunning of which few of their rivals seemed capable. This was admitting much, since the foreign adventurers did not claim high principles.
On the surface, it was obviously prudent to take the shortest line to the presidio, but Kit reflected that Olsen would expect him to do so. It might be better to put him off the track by going another way and Kit was anxious to know if he had left the café. Stepping back into the shadow, he made for another path and a few minutes afterwards returned to the street. He glanced at the café as he walked past and saw that Olsen was not there. He thought this ominous, since it indicated that the fellow had gone to consult his revolutionary friends and Kit imagined they would try to prevent his reaching the presidio. He seldom carried a pistol, which was difficult to hide when one wore thin white clothes. On the whole, he had found a suspicious bulge in one's pocket rather apt to provoke than to save one from attack; but he was sorry he had not a pistol now.
Kit went back across the alameda, hoping he had put Olsen's friends off the track. If so, he would be safe until he got near the presidio, when he must be cautious. He passed two or three groups of people, and now and then heard steps behind, but the steps were followed by voices that relieved his anxiety. For all that, he was glad to leave the alameda and turn up a street.
The street was narrow, hot, and dirty. There was a smell of decaying rubbish and the rancid oil used in cooking. One side was in shadow, and almost unbroken walls rose from the rough pavement. For the most part, the outside windows were narrow slits, since the houses got light from the central patio. Here and there an oil-lamp marked a corner, but that was all, and Kit kept in the moonlight and looked about keenly when he passed a shadowy door. Perspiration trickled down his face and he felt an unpleasant nervous tension. Yet nobody came near him and when he cautiously glanced round nobody was lurking in the gloom. He began to think he had cheated Olsen, but admitted that it was too soon to slacken his watchfulness.
At one corner, he saw two figures in shabby white uniform, and hesitated. In Spanish-American countries, the government generally maintains a force of carefully picked men, entrusted with powers that are seldom given to ordinary police. They patrol in couples, carry arms, and are sometimes calledguardias civilesand sometimesrurales. Kit knew he could trust the men, but doubted if they could leave their post; besides he did not want Olsen to know he thought it needful to ask for protection. Now he came to think of it, he had seen theruralesoutside the café and at another corner. Perhaps this was why he had been left alone.
He went on, rather reluctantly, and by and by reached the broad square in front of the presidio. The old building was clear in the moonlight; Kit could see a sentry on the terrace and a faint glow in the slit in the wall that marked Adam's room. It was hardly two-hundred yards off and he would be safe before he reached the arch, but a grove of small palms and shrubs ran between him and the square. There were rails behind the trees and the nearest opening was some distance off. A high blank wall threw a dark shadow that stretched across the road by the rails and met the gloom of the trees.
Kit looked about, without stopping or turning his head much. There was nobody in sight, but he somehow felt that he was not alone. It was a disturbing, and apparently an illogical, feeling that he must not indulge, and pulling himself together he went on, with his fist clenched. He was not far from the gate, and although he listened hard could only hear his own steps and voices in a neighboring street. Yet his nerves tingled and his muscles got tense. In front, a thick, dark mass that looked like a clump of euphorbia or cactus stood beside the path, and just beyond it a bright beam of moonlight shone between the drooping branches of the palms.
He thought the spot the beam touched was dangerous. As he crossed it his figure would be strongly illuminated and he would have his back to the dark bush. He wanted to move aside and go round the bush, but this might give somebody time to spring out and get between him and the gate. The gate was close by and he was strangely anxious to reach it. For all that, he was not going to indulge his imagination.
He plunged into the gloom, without deviating from his path, and conquered a nervous impulse that urged him to run. When he had nearly passed the bush he thought he heard a movement and a thick stalk of the cactus shook. Half instinctively, Kit leaped forward and felt something soft brush against his shoulder. As he swung round, in the moonlight, with his mouth set and his hand drawn back to strike, he saw a blanket on the ground. There was nothing else and he breathed hard as he searched the gloom. The blanket had not been there before.
Next moment, a dark figure sprang from the shadow and a knife flashed in the moonlight; then he heard a heavy report and a puff of smoke blew past his head. The figure swerved and, staggering awkwardly, fell with a heavy thud. It did not move afterwards, and while Kit gazed at it dully a man in white uniform ran past and stooped beside the fellow on the ground. Kit vacantly noted that a little smoke curled from the muzzle of his pistol.
"One cartridge is enough," he said coolly. "Your worship did not escape by much."
Anotherruralcame out of the bushes and when they turned over the body Kit saw a dark face and a long, thin knife clenched in a brown hand. He understood now that the blanket had been meant to entangle his arm or head; half-breed peons often carry a rolled-up blanket of good quality on their shoulder.
"It is Gil Ortega," theruralremarked. "A good shot that will save us some trouble, comrade!"
"How did you come here when you were wanted?" Kit asked as calmly as he could.
Theruralsmiled. "By the president's order, señor. We were watching the café."
"But it looks as if you had got in front of me."
"It is so, señor. We thought it best to follow this fellow. He lost you when you turned back."
Kit nodded, for he remembered that he had instinctively avoided one or two dark lanes that would have given him a shorter line than the streets. Ortega and theruraleshad taken the shorter way. He thought it curious the report had not drawn a crowd, but although he heard voices nobody came near and he imagined the citizens were used to pistol shots. Giving theruralessome money, he crossed the square to the presidio and going to his room lighted a cigarette. He thought a smoke might be soothing, for he had got a jar.
After a time, he went to look for Alvarez and found him sitting in front of a table in the patio. A soldier stood not far off, but the president was alone and the light of a shaded lamp fell upon a bundle of letters and documents. Alvarez worked hard and had inherited a rather austere simplicity from his Indian ancestors. Kit thought his plain white clothes and quiet calm gave him dignity.
"It looks as if my enemies meant to lose no time," he said, in English, when Kit told him about his adventure.
"It's their third try in a few weeks," Kit agreed. "Don't you find the uncertainty about where they'll strike next rather wearing?"
Alvarez shrugged. "One gets used to these affairs; a custom of the country, and there is something to be said for it. If the plot succeeds, it is an easy way of turning out a president and changing the government. Perhaps it is better to kill a man or two than fight round barricades and burn the town."
"In the North, we find it possible to change our government by vote."
"You are cold-blooded people and don't understand the passions of the South," Alvarez rejoined with cynical humor. "We have tried your plan, but one must be rich to buy the votes. Besides, if one is beaten at the polls, there remains the last appeal to the knife. But you will let this go. We have something else to talk about."
"That is so," said Kit. "To begin with, I must thank you for sending yourruralesto look after me."
"It is nothing," Alvarez replied in a deprecatory tone. "You are my guest and we try to take care of foreigners, because if they meet with accidents their consuls ask embarrassing questions. Besides, watching them serves two objects."
"Then, I expect you know I met Olsen at the café?" Kit suggested dryly.
Alvarez smiled. "Yes; I know. But I was not suspicious."
"After all, one doesn't generally conspire in a public place. In fact, I don't understand why Olsen met me there."
"He may have meant to compromise you; to put doubts in my mind."
"It's possible, now I think of it," Kit assented. "I hope he didn't succeed."
"I know my friends, Don Cristoval. But what did the fellow want? I do not know all."
"Your spies are pretty smart, but I expect our colloquial English puzzled them," Kit remarked, smiling. "However, I was going to tell you—"
He narrated what Olsen had said and Alvarez looked thoughtful.
"Galdar must be nearly ready; he has been quicker than I imagined. What are you going to do about the steamer?"
"I'll wait until tomorrow. If my uncle is well enough, he must decide."
"But if he is no better?" Alvarez asked.
Kit gave him a level glance. "Then I will send Mayne orders to run all risks and start, whether his engines are repaired or not."
"Ah," said Alvarez with a bow, "Olsen was foolish when he tried to bribe you! I suppose this is your answer! Well, it is lucky that a fast schooner sails to a port from which a telegram can be sent. When your orders are ready I will see that they go."
Next morning Kit found Adam lying half awake after a night of delirium. The old man's eyes were heavy, his brain was dull, and the doctor, who came in, made Kit a sign not to disturb him. Kit went out and spent some time writing a message to Mayne. It was necessary that the captain should know what he must do, but Kit was anxious to give no hint about the importance of speed that others would understand. He meant to guard against his orders being read by spies in Olsen's pay.
When he had sealed the envelope and addressed it as the president had told him, he went down to the patio and found a peon talking to a guard.
"This man is the mate of the Catalina and wants to see you," said the guard, and when he went off Kit turned to the other, who looked like a sailor.
"My wife lives in the town and I have been at home for a day or two," said the man. "I am going back to the schooner now and was told you had a letter for the patron."
Kit put his hand in his pocket. Although he had expected the mayor-domo would come for the message, there was not much formality at the presidio, and the fellow was obviously a sailor. Yet Kit hesitated and as he stood with his hand on the envelope thought the other's eyelids flickered. The flicker was almost too slight to notice, but it hinted at nervousness and Kit dropped the message back.
"Very well," he said. "Wait a few minutes."
He went along the arcade and stopping near the end looked back. The sailor had sat down on a bench and was lighting a cigarette. This looked as if he did not mind waiting, and Kit wondered whether it was worth while to disturb the president, who was occupied. He went on, however, and Alvarez signed him to sit down when he entered his room. After a minute or two, he put down the document he was reading to his secretary.
"Well," he said, "have you written your message for Captain Mayne?"
"It is here. TheCatalina'smate is waiting."
Alvarez turned to the secretary. "My order was that thepatronshould come."
"That is so, señor. I sent him word."
"The man told me his wife lived in the town and he was starting back,"Kit interposed.
"Thepatronhas a house here," Alvarez replied. "We will see the man.But first send an order to the guard to let nobody go out."
He waited for a minute after the secretary went off and then beckoned Kit, who followed him downstairs and into the arcade. When they reached it Kit stopped and Alvarez turned to him with a meaning smile. There was nobody on the bench.
"It looks as if my order was sent too late," Alvarez remarked. "You had better tell me exactly what happened?"
Kit complied and Alvarez sent for the guard and asked: "How did you know the sailor was theCatalina'smate?"
"He told me he was, señor. Afterwards, when Don Cristoval did not come back, he said it was not important and he would not wait."
Alvarez dismissed the man and shrugged as he turned to Kit. "The plotters are clever, but they made a mistake. The fellow was too modest; he ought to have said he was thepatron. Well, we must try to find him, although I expect we are late. Now give me the message for Captain Mayne. It looks as if our antagonists knew its importance."
Kit gave him the envelope and went back to Adam's room.
Although the shutters on the balcony window were open, no draught entered the small, bare room and the heat that soaked through the thick walls was nearly intolerable. There was not a sound in the presidio and a drowsy quietness brooded over the dazzling town. It was two o'clock in the afternoon, and the citizens were resting in their darkened houses until the sun got low and work and intrigue began again. Adam and Kit, however, had been talking for some time when the former, leaning back in a big cane chair, frowned at his nephew. His thin face was wet with sweat, but he shivered and his hands shook.
"You can quit arguing; I've got to go," he said. "I don't get much better, anyhow, and can't stand for lying off when there's a big job to be done."
"I believe I could see the job through," Kit answered quietly.
Adam's dull eyes sparkled. "You might; I guess you're anxious to try your powers, but so long as I can get about I'm in command."
"It's doubtful if you can get about," Kit insisted.
"I'm going to try. You'll have a quiet mule ready when it's getting dark, and I'll ride out of town; then, if the saddle shakes me, I'll go in a hammock. You can cut out your objections. The thing's fixed."
"Very well," said Kit. "We had better make for Corrientes, since the point commands the port and the lagoon. Mayne will stop for an hour or two, looking for a signal, when he picks up his marks."
"We'll start for the port and take the other track afterwards. There's no use in telling the opposition where we're going. I imagine they don't know if theRio Negrohas sailed or not."
"For that matter, we don't know," Kit remarked.
"Oh, shucks!" Adam exclaimed. "Mayne understands what we're up against and he'd pull out when he got your telegram. If he can't use his damaged engine, he'll disconnect and bring her along with the other." He stopped Kit with a frown. "If you're going to tell me theRio Negrocan't steam across on one cylinder, you can cut it out. I've taught the men I put in charge that when a job's needful it has got to be done."
He paused and when Kit said nothing, went on quietly: "Well, I reckon Galdar's crowd will expect the boat to make for the port. It's easier to land cargo there and there's a better road. With good luck, we'll have the goods delivered before they know she's gone to the lagoon. Now you can go along and get busy."
Kit went away in a thoughtful mood. He agreed with Adam that secrecy and speed were essential, because if the rebels got a hint of their plans they might strike before Alvarez could ensure the loyalty of his troops by distributing their back pay. Much depended upon which party got in the first blow. In fact, if the guns and money reached the town before the rebels knew they were landed, Kit thought the president's chance of winning was good. All the same, he imagined that Adam, whom the doctor had forbidden to get up, would run a dangerous risk.
At dusk a few barefooted soldiers paraded on the terrace, with two mules and three or four peons. Since it was impossible to evade the watchfulness of Galdar's spies, Adam had resolved to set off openly and not to give them a hint that his journey had an important object by trying to hide it. He mounted awkwardly, with an obvious effort, and when he was in the saddle set his lips for a moment or two. Then he turned to Alvarez and smiled.
"I'm not a back-number yet, but it's lucky the opposition don't know how hard it was for me to get up."
Alvarez made a sign of understanding. "You must dismount as soon as possible. You are very staunch, my friend."
"I've got to make good. If everything is fixed, we'll pull out."
"Adios, señores," said Alvarez, taking off his hat. "Much depends on you."
Somebody gave an order, there was a rattle of thrown-up rifles, a patter of naked feet, and the party moved away. Kit, turning after a few moments, looked back. He saw the long, straight building, pierced here and there by lights, rise against the orange sky, and the president's tall figure, conspicuous in white clothes, in front of the arch. His attendants had vanished, he stood motionless, as if brooding, and Kit thought he looked pathetic and lonely. He afterwards remembered his glance at the old presidio.
They rode down a hot street. The moon had not risen and the place was dark except for the feeble gleam of an oil-lamp at a corner. The clatter of the mules' feet on the uneven stones echoed along the walls, and here and there indistinct figures looked out from shadowy doors. For the most part, the watchers let them pass in silence, and although Kit imagined news of their departure would travel fast, he was glad they passed none of the lighted cafés and open squares. It would be hard to see who was riding the mules, and while Galdar's spies would probably find out this would need time and time was important.
After leaving the streets, they followed the road to the port for some distance, and then turned into a track that wound along a dark hillside among clumps of trees. When they entered it, Adam stopped his mule and got down awkwardly.
"I've had about as much as I can stand for," he remarked, breathing hard. "Looks as if we had got a start, but I reckon the other lot will try to track us to the port when the moon gets up."
Then with a sigh of relief he lay down in a hammock the peons had got ready, and when two of the latter took up the poles they went on again.
On the second night after leaving the presidio, Kit sat on the coaming of a small steam launch that lurched across the long undulations rolling in from the Caribbean. It had been blowing fresh, and although the wind had dropped the swell ran high. When the launch swung up, a vague, hazy smear rather suggested than indicated land astern; the sea ahead was dark, but in one place a faint reflection on the sky told that the moon would soon rise. Although the beach was some distance off, a dull monotonous rumble, pierced now and then by the clank of the launch's engines, hinted at breaking surf. The furnace door was open and the red light touched Adam's face as he sat, supported by a cushion, in a corner of the cockpit. He looked very haggard and Kit thought him the worse for his journey.
"The light's in my eyes, but there was nothing on the skyline a minute or two ago," Kit remarked. "It will be awkward if Mayne doesn't get across. You seem persuaded he'll come."
"I know he'd start. We can't tell what may have happened afterwards and there was more wind than I liked. He'll be here on time, if he's been able to keep the old boat off the ground."
"Time is getting short. I expect the rebels have found out we're not at the port and Galdar will have the road watched when the news gets to the town. It might pay him to risk forcing a conflict if he could seize the convoy, and I'll feel happier when the guns and money are off our hands. It will be the president's business to look after them then."
"That's so," Adam agreed. "Our part of the job's to land the goods and it's unlucky the tides are small. There won't be much water on the shoals and although we'll have an extra few inches tomorrow, I don't want Mayne to wait."
Kit pondered, for he had taken some soundings when coming out. They were probably not correct, because the launch had rolled among the white combers that swept the shoals while he used the lead, but the average depth was about the steamer's draught in her usual trim. Mayne, however, ought to know what depth to expect, and Kit hoped he had loaded the vessel to correspond. By and by the mulatto fireman shut the furnace door, the puzzling light was cut off, and Kit searched the horizon. For some minutes, he saw nothing; and then a trail of red fire soared into the sky.
"He's brought her across," said Adam. "Get our rocket off."
The rocket swept up in a wide curve and burst into crimson lights. After this there was darkness for a time until an indistinct black object appeared against the brightening sky. Then the launch sank back into the trough, where the gloom was only broken by the glimmer of the phosphorescence that spangled the water. When she swung up on the top of the next swell the steamer was plainer and Kit blew the whistle as he changed their course.
When the moon rose slowly out of the sea he stopped the clanking engine and the launch reeled up and down, some fifty yards off the steamer. The _Rio Negro _carried no lights, but the phosphorescence shone upon her wet plates as she rolled them out of the water. Her side rose high and black, and then sank until her rail was nearly level with the spangled foam. Indistinct figures scrambled about her deck, and when Kit sheered the launch in, her ladder went down with a rattle. A half-breed on board the launch caught it with his boat hook, and Adam stood at the bow, waiting for a chance to jump upon the narrow platform that lurched up above him and then plunged into the sea. Kit felt anxious. He did not think Adam was equal to the effort and dreaded the consequences of the shock if he missed and fell.
"Stand by!" he shouted to the seaman on the ladder when theRio Negrosteadied after a violent roll; and then touched Adam. "Now; before she goes back!"
Adam, jumping awkwardly, seized the seaman's hand, and Kit, leaning out, pushed him on to the platform as it began to sink. Then he jumped and coming down in a foot or two of water helped Adam to the deck. Mayne met them at the gangway and took them to his room, where Adam sat down and gasped. When Mayne poured out some liquor he clutched the glass with a shaking hand. After he drained it he was silent for a moment or two; and then asked in a strained voice: "Have you brought the goods?"
"Got them all. We hadn't a nice trip. Don't know how Finlay kept her going and I thought I'd lost her on Tortillas reef; but we can talk about that afterwards."
Adam made a sign of satisfaction and leaned back feebly. "It's some relief to know the goods are here."
"Finlay can drive her seven knots and has plenty steam," Mayne said toKit. "I'm bothered about the water; there won't be too much."
Kit asked the vessel's draught and looked thoughtful when he heard what it was.
"I can't guarantee my soundings, but imagine she won't float across and an ugly sea is running on the bar."
"She'll certainly hit the bottom and the chances are she hits it hard," Mayne remarked when Kit told him the depth he had got. "I expect, too, the mist will drift off from the mangroves with the land-breeze and hide our marks." He paused and glanced at Adam, who leaned back in a corner with his eyes half shut.
"But I reckon we have got to take her in?"
"Yes," said Adam dully. "Leave me alone; you can fix things with Kit."
Mayne beckoned Kit and they went to the bridge. The moon had risen and threw a belt of silver light across the sea, but it was a half moon and would not help them much. Ahead, in the distance, gray haze obscured the water, and the dull roar that came out of the mist had become distinct. Mayne rang his telegraph to reduce the speed.
"So far as I can reckon, it won't be high-water for most two hours, and on this coast you can't calculate just how much the tide will rise. There's going to be trouble if we find it shoaler than we expect and I had plenty trouble coming along. Finlay could hardly drive her four knots in last night's breeze and the current put us on Tortillas reef. She stopped there twenty minutes, jambed down on her bilge while the sea came on board."
Kit noted two boats that had obviously been damaged while the steamerhammered on the reef, and the white crust of salt on the funnel; butMayne resumed: "Say, the old man looks shaky; never seen him like that.You want to get him home."
"He won't go. However, he's rather worse tonight. I think he was anxious about your turning up in time to catch the tide. The journey tried him and now a reaction has begun."
"Well, I allow there's not much use in arguing if he means to stay; but he needn't have bothered about my getting across. When the orders came, I knew I had to bring her or pile her up. What Askew says goes."
They were silent for a time while theRio Negro, with engines throbbing slowly, crept towards the coast. The land breeze brought off a steamy heat and a sour smell. The long undulations were wrinkled by small waves, and a thin low haze that obscured the moon spread across the water. Kit, looking up now and then, could see the mastheads swing across the sky. There was, however, nothing to be seen ahead but a gray line that moved back as the steamer went on.
"It's sure a blamed bad night for our job," Mayne remarked as he gazed towards the hidden land. "I'm glad I told your dagos to burn a flare when they hit the channel."
Kit said nothing. The launch had vanished, and there was no guiding light in the mist. The turmoil of the surf had got louder and rang through the dark like the roar of a heavy train. Presently Mayne ordered a sounding to be taken and looked at Kit when the leadsman called the depth.
"A foot less than we reckoned, and there won't be much rise. I don't like it, Mr. Askew, and if my employer was not your uncle, I'd heave the old boat round."
Kit nodded sympathetically. He felt he hated the smothering haze that rolled in front and hid the dangers, but they must go on and trust to luck. He knew Adam's plans and no arguments would shake his resolve. Half an hour later a twinkle broke out some distance ahead and Mayne rang his telegraph.
"I'm thankful for that, anyhow," he remarked. "We'll let her go, but I have my doubts about what will happen next."
The throb of engines quickened, the gurgle of water got louder at the bows, and theRio Negro, lurching sharply, went shorewards with tide and swell. The twinkle vanished and reappeared, to starboard now, and chains rattled as the quartermaster pulled round the wheel. Then the light faded and they were left without a guide in the puzzling haze. Ten minutes afterwards there was a heavy shock, and a rush of foam swept the rail as the steamer listed down. She lifted and struck again with a jar that tried Kit's nerve. A hoarse shout came from the forecastle and men ran about the slanted deck as a frothing sea rolled on board. Mayne, clutching his telegraph, beckoned Kit.
"Bring Mr. Askew up. He's got to tell me what I am to do."
Kit met Adam clumsily climbing the ladder and when he helped him to the bridge Mayne remarked: "She's on the tongue shoal. Don't know if I can back her off and steam out to deep water, but, if you consent, I want to try."
"I won't consent," said Adam. "We're going in! What's that light to starboard?"
"The launch; she's in the channel. I doubt if there's water enough for us, if we can get there."
"Then, shove her across the sand or let her go to bits."
Mayne rang the telegraph and touched his cap. "Very well! She's your ship, and we have some sound boats left."
For the next ten minutes Kit clung to the bridge. He wanted to help Adam into the pilot-house, but the old man waved him off. Clouds of spray swept the vessel and made it hard to see her rail where the white combers leaped. Now and then one broke on board and poured in a foaming torrent across the slanted deck; she trembled horribly as she struck the sand. It looked as if she were driving sideways across the shoal, but the flare on the launch had gone out and Kit doubted if Mayne knew where he was.
Sometimes the tall, black forecastle swung in a quarter-circle; sometimes the stern went round. For the most part, however, she lay with her side to the rollers and it was plain that the struggle could not last long. If they did not get off in a few minutes, rivets would smash and butts open, and one must take one's chances in the boats. Two were damaged, but others might be launched, and Kit was relieved to note that two or three deck-hands moved about as if engaged in clearing the davit-tackles. He sympathized with the men, although he did not think Mayne had given them orders.
In the meantime, Adam clung to the rails, swaying when the bridge slanted, but looking unmoved, and Kit knew that so long as theRio Negro'sengines turned he would go on. It was not for nothing men called him the Buccaneer, and now that he was staking his life and fortune on a hazardous chance there was something daunting about his grim resolve.
A sea rolled up astern and buried the poop. Kit felt the steamer lift and turn, as if on a pivot at the middle of her length. The after-deck was full of water, but the bows were high and going round, and he was conscious of a curious shiver that ran through the straining hull as she shook herself free from the sand. She crawled forward, stopped, and moved again with a staggering lurch. The next sea swept her on, but she did not strike, and after a few moments Kit knew she had crossed the top of the shoal.
Her whistle shrieked above the turmoil of the sea, a light blinked in the spray, and she lurched on before the tumbling combers. By and by the water got smooth and an indistinct dark mass grew out of the mist. Mayne, who was pacing up and down his bridge, stopped near Kit with a reckless laugh.
"This is the kind of navigation they break skippers for! If those are the mangroves on False Point, I may take her in; if they're not, we'll make a hole in the forest."
Kit looked about, but could not see the launch. The dark mass was a thick belt of trees, but he did not know, and did not think Mayne knew, where they were, and the easy motion indicated that the tide was carrying the steamer on. Much to his relief, the indistinct wall of forest seemed to bend back, away from the sea. It looked as if they were entering the lagoon; and then he heard the telegraph and the rattle of rudder chains.
The screw shook the vessel as it spun hard-astern, and the bows began to swing. It was, however, too late; the forecastle would not clear the mangroves, and Kit knew the water was deep among their roots. Shouting to Adam, he seized the rails and waited for the shock. It came, for there was a crash, and a noise of branches breaking. The steamer rolled, recoiled, and forged on into the forest.
Some minutes later, Mayne stopped his engines and there was a curious quietness as he came up to Adam.
"We are fast in the mud, sir. Although she'll take a list when the tide falls, we may be able to work cargo. I'll lay out an anchor in the morning and try to heave her off, but I calculate it will be full moon before she floats."
Early next morning, Kit went on deck. Although it was hot, everything dripped with damp, and sour-smelling mist drifted past the ship. Her masts and funnels slanted and Kit could hardly keep his footing on the inclined deck. When he looked over the rail, the rows of wet plates ran up like a wall above broken mangrove roots and pools of slime. Smashed trunks and branches were piled against the bows and dingy foliage overhung the vessel's lower side.
Kit walked aft. The screw was uncovered, and shallow, muddy water, dotted by floating scum, surrounded the stern, which projected into the lagoon. In one place, however, a mud-bank touched the bilge, and three or four men, standing on planks, cautiously tried its firmness. They were wet and splashed, and one who ventured a few yards from the plank sank to his waist. The others pulled him out and then they climbed a rope ladder. Kit thought the experiment proved that nothing useful could be done until the tide flowed round the ship.
Another gang was moving a kedge-anchor across the deck, while a few more coiled heavy ropes beside the winch. Mayne obviously meant to try to heave the vessel off, but Kit thought he would not succeed until the moon was full. In the meantime, cargo could only be landed when there was water enough to float boats up to the ship, and Kit glanced across the lagoon. There were no mangroves on the other side, although thick timber grew close down to a belt of sand. Below this was mud, across which he imagined heavy goods could not be carried. The heat and steamy damp made him languid, and he went to Adam's room. Adam had got up and sat, half-dressed, on the lower berth with a glass on the floor close by. His hands shook and there was no color in his lips.
"It's rather early for a strong cocktail, but I felt I needed bracing," he said. "What do you think about our chance of getting her off?"
"I imagine it's impossible for another week and don't see how we'll get the cargo out."
"Don't you?" said Adam grimly. "It has got to be done. If Mayne finds the job too big, I'll put it through myself."
"You ought to leave before the malaria knocks you down," Kit rejoined."If I had the power, I'd make you go."
Adam smiled. "You mean well, boy, but you don't understand, and if you plot with Mayne to bluff me, I'll surely break you both. Now go and see if the president's men have arrived. Then you can tell Mayne to rig his derricks and take the hatches off."
Kit went out and after a time three or four figures appeared among the trees across the lagoon. They came down to the mud, but when Kit shouted, asking if they could launch a canoe, one shrugged and they turned back.
"I reckon the old man means us to get busy with the cargo," Mayne remarked.
"Yes," said Kit. "I understand he's ready to undertake the job if we find it too much for us."
"He's a hustler, sure! So far as I can see, the thing can't be done, but if Askew wants it done, I guess we've got to try. We'll carry out the kedge and make fast a warp or two when the tide flows. He'll expect it, though I don't reckon much on our chance of floating her."
By degrees the muddy water crawled up the plates and theRio Negrorose upright; the haze melted and it got fiercely hot when the sun shone. A canoe, manned by half-breed peons, crossed the lagoon, and with heavy labor the kedge-anchor was hoisted out and hung between two boats. Half-naked men toiled at the oars until the lashings were cut and the boats rocked as the anchor sank. Then their crews, dragging large stiff warps, forced their way among the mangrove roots and made the ropes fast where they could. They came back exhausted, dripping with water and daubed by slime, and Mayne went to the bridge.
The sun pierced the narrow awning and there was not a breath of wind. The lagoon shone with dazzling brightness and the iron deck threw up an intolerable heat. Kit felt the perspiration soak his thin clothes, and big drops of moisture trickled down Adam's yellow face as he sat with half-shut eyes, in a canvas chair. By and by he took out his watch, and Kit noted that he moved it once or twice before he could see the time.
"Hadn't you better get busy?" he asked Mayne.
The telegraph clanged, the engines panted, and theRio Negrobegan to shake as the screw revolved. There was no movement but the racking throb, until Mayne raised his hand and winch and windlass rattled. Puffs of steam blew about, the cable rose from the water with a jar, and the warps ran slowly across the winch-drums, foul with greasy scum.
"Hold on to it!" Mayne shouted. "Get in the last inch!"
His voice was drowned by the rattle of chain and hiss of steam, but the uproar began to die away and the sharp clatter of small engines changed to spasmodic jars. Then somebody shouted, there was a crash, and the end of a broken warp, flying back, tore up the dazzling water. The windlass stopped, and a few moments later a clump of mangroves swayed. Kit heard green wood crack, as a rope that had stretched and strained began to move. Then Mayne raised his hand.
"Let go; stop her! You're pulling up the trees."
There was a sudden quietness except for the insistent throb of the screw, and Mayne turned to Adam.
"If the cable holds, I can smash the windlass, but I can't heave her off."
"Very well. You quit and get the cargo out. Better hustle while she's upright."
Mayne went down the ladder and when he unlocked the iron door of the after wheel-house a gang of men brought out a row of small-boxes. A mulatto from the beach, who wore neat white clothes and an expensive hat, counted the boxes and then gave Adam a receipt.
"Don Hernando will be glad to get these goods and we will start at once," he said. "Although I have a guard, it will be safe to reach the town before the president's enemies know."
"That would be prudent, señor," Adam agreed, and turned to Kit when the mulatto went away.
"I have done my part and it's Alvarez's business to see the chests get through. Well, we have both taken some chances since he was a Customs-clerk and I acontrabandistarunning the oldMercedes, but I reckon this is my rashest plunge. Anyhow, if I get my money back or not, I've put up the goods. Now you can tell Mayne to break out the guns."
Mayne gave orders, derrick-booms swung from the stumpy masts, pulleys rattled, and heavy cases rose from the holds. The boats, however, could not get abreast of the forward hatch and the cases had to be moved across slippery iron plates to the after derrick that hoisted them overboard. It was exhausting work, and the heat was intolerable. The white crew threw off their soaked clothes and toiled half-naked in the sun that burned their skin, but Adam left the awning and went about in the glare.
At first, the mates grumbled with indignant surprise. Their employer was breaking rules; working the cargo was their business and nobody else must meddle. Besides, they had not met a shipowner able to superintend the job. One who ventured a protest, however, stopped in awkward embarrassment when Adam gave him a look, and the others soon admitted that few captains knew more about derricks and slings. Nevertheless, Kit was anxious as he watched his uncle. He knew Adam would pay for this and wondered how long he could keep it up.
At noon, the peons refused another load and when Adam addressed them in virulent Castilian, coolly pulled the boats away from the ship. When they had rowed a short distance they stopped and one got up.
"More is not possible, señor," he said. "To work in this sun is not for flesh and blood. After we have slept for an hour or two, we will come back."
Adam felt for his pistol, but hesitated, with his hand at his silk belt, and Kit thought he looked very like a Buccaneer.
"It might pay to plug that fellow, and I'd have risked it when I came here in theMercedes. Still, I guess Don Hernando has enough trouble."
Mayne, standing behind him, grinned. "I reckon that fixes the thing. Don't know I'm sorry the dagos have lit out; my crowd are used up and ready to mutiny."
For two hours the tired crew rested while the water sank and the steamer resumed her awkward list. Then the boats came back and the men crawled languidly about the slanted deck, until Adam went among them with bitter words. The sea breeze was blowing outside, but no wind could enter the gap in the trees, and foul exhalations from warm mud and slime poisoned the stagnant air. Kit's head ached, his eyes hurt, and his joints were sore; he felt strangely limp and it cost him an effort to get about.
All the while the winches hammered and pulleys screamed as the cases came up and the empty slings went down. The heat got suffocating and the slant of masts and deck made matters worse, because the men must hold the derricks back with guys while the heavy goods cleared the coamings of the hatch. Much judgment was needed to drop them safely in the boats. Men gasped and choked, quarreled with each other, and growled at the mates, but somehow held on while the tide ebbed and the sun sank nearer the mangroves' tops. It dipped when the breathless peons pushed the last boat away from theRio Negro'sside, and the noisy machines stopped.
Darkness spread swiftly across the lagoon and a white fog, hot and damp as steam, rose from the forest and hung about the ship. Everything was very quiet, for the men were too limp to talk, but a murmur came out of the distance where the long swell beat upon the shoals. Kit and Mayne sat in the chart-room, with a jug of iced liquor on the table in front. Sometimes they spoke a few words and sometimes smoked in silence, while Adam lay on the settee, saying nothing. At length, he got up and a steward helped him to his room. Somehow the others felt it a relief that he had gone.
"I can hustle, but your uncle makes me tired," Mayne remarked. "If you get what I mean, it's like watching a dead man chase the boys about; you feel it's unnatural to see him on his feet. Well, one has to pay for fooling with a climate like this, and I'm afraid the bill he'll get will break him. Can't you make him quit?"
"I can't; I've tried."
"The curious thing is he knows the cost," Mayne resumed. "Knows what's coming to him unless he goes."
"Yes," said Kit in a thoughtful voice, "I believe he does know and doesn't mind. This makes it rough on me. I'm powerless to send him off and I'm fond of the old man."
Mayne made a sign of agreement. "He's a pretty tough proposition and was worse when he was young; but I've risked my life to serve him. The Buccaneer holds his friends."
Kit said nothing. He was anxious and depressed and soon went off to bed.
When work began next morning, Adam was on deck and superintended the landing of the cargo in spite of Kit's protest. Kit thought the day was hotter than the last, and after an hour or two's disturbed sleep in his stifling room, found it hard to drag himself about. When the exhausted peons stopped at noon, he lay under the awning and kept close to Adam when they resumed. He did not like his uncle's fixed frown and thought it was caused by the effort he made to keep at work. If not, it was a hint of pain he stubbornly tried to overcome. Besides, his step was dragging and his movements were awkward.
About the middle of the afternoon, Adam stood near the noisy winch while a case was hoisted. The winch-man looked up when the heavy load, hanging from the derrick, swung across the slanted deck.
"Hold her while they steady the boom!" Adam shouted and seized the rope that slipped round the drum.
The winch-driver was watching the others who struggled with the guy, and perhaps forgot it was not a strong man who had come to his help. For a moment or two, Adam kept his grip, and then his hands opened and he staggered back. Somebody shouted, a pulley rattled, and the case, running down, crashed against the steamer's rail. Kit ran forward, but reached the spot a moment too late, for Adam lay unconscious on the iron deck.
They picked him up and carried him to the bridge, where it was a little cooler than his room, but for some time he did not open his eyes. Then he looked about dully and seeing Kit gave him a feeble smile.
"You're in charge now, partner; keep the boys hustling," he said. "There's the coffee to load up when you have put the guns ashore. Looks as if I had got to leave the job to you."
He turned his head, drew a hard breath, as if it had hurt him to speak, and said nothing more. The work, however, went on until it got dark, and when the mist rose from the mangroves and a heavy dew began to fall they carried Adam to his room. He slept for part of the night while Kit watched, but now and then tossed about with delirious mutterings. When morning came he did not wake and Kit, looking at his pinched, wet face, went on deck with a heavy heart. He had sent for the Spanish doctor, but thought it did not matter much if Señor Martin came or not. In another day or two he would be alone.