When dinner was over, Dick sat by
himself in a quiet spot on the liner’s quarter-deck.
There was a tall, iron bulwark beside him, but close
by this was replaced by netted rails, through which
he caught the pale shimmer of the sea. The warm
land-breeze had freshened and ripples splashed against
the vessel’s side, while every now and then a
languid gurgle rose from about her waterline and the
foam her plates threw off was filled with phosphorescent
flame. A string band was playing on the poop,
and passengers and guests moved through the intricate
figures of a Spanish dance on the broad deck below.
Their poses were graceful and their dress was picturesque,
but Dick watched them listlessly.
He was not in a mood for dancing,
for he had been working hard at the dam and his thoughts
were disturbed. Clare had refused him, and although
he did not accept her decision as final, he could
see no way of taking her out of her father’s
hands, while he had made no progress towards unraveling
the latter’s plots. Kenwardine was not on
board, but Dick had only seen Clare at some distance
off across the table in the saloon. Moreover,
he thought she must have taken some trouble to avoid
meeting him.
Then he remembered the speeches made
by the visitors at dinner, and the steamship officers’
replies. The former, colored by French and Spanish
politeness and American wit, eulogized the power of
the British navy and the courage of her merchant captains.
There was war, they said, but British commerce went
on without a check; goods shipped beneath the red
ensign would be delivered safe in spite of storm and
strife; Britannia, with trident poised, guarded the
seas. For this the boldly-announced sailing list
served as text, but Dick, who made allowances for exuberant
Latin sentiment, noted the captain’s response
with some surprise.
His speech was flamboyant, and did
not harmonize with the character of the man, who had
called at the port before in command of another ship.
He was gray-haired and generally reserved. Dick
had not expected him to indulge in cheap patriotism,
but he called the British ensign the meteor flag,
defied its enemies, and declared that no hostile fleets
could prevent his employers carrying their engagements
out. Since the man was obviously sober, Dick
supposed he was touting for business and wanted to
assure the merchants that the sailings of the company’s
steamers could be relied upon. Still, this kind
of thing was not good British form.
By and by Don Sebastian came down
a ladder from the saloon deck with Clare behind him.
Dick felt tempted to retire but conquered the impulse
and the Spaniard came up.
“I have some business with the
purser, who is waiting for me, but cannot find my
senora,” he explained, and Dick, knowing that
local conventions forbade his leaving Clare alone,
understood it as a request that he should take care
of her until the other’s return.
“I should be glad to stay with
Miss Kenwardine,” he answered with a bow, and
when Don Sebastian went off opened a deck-chair and
turned to the girl.
“You see how I was situated!” he said
awkwardly.
Clare smiled as she sat down.
“Yes; you are not to blame. Indeed, I do
not see why you should apologize.”
“Well,” said Dick, “I
hoped that I might meet you, though I feared you would
sooner I did not. When I saw you on the ladder,
I felt I ought to steal away, but must confess that
I was glad when I found it was too late. Somehow,
things seem to bring us into opposition. They
have done so from the beginning.”
“You’re unnecessarily
frank,” Clare answered with a blush. “Since
you couldn’t steal away, wouldn’t it have
been better not to hint that I was anxious to avoid
you? After all, I could have done so if I had
really wanted.”
“I expect that’s true.
Of course what happened when we last met couldn’t
trouble you as it troubled me.”
“Are you trying to be tactful now?” Clare
asked, smiling.
“No; it’s my misfortune
that I haven’t much tact. If I had, I might
be able to straighten matters out.”
“Don’t you understand
that they can’t be straightened out?”
“I don’t,” Dick
answered stubbornly. “For all that, I won’t
trouble you again until I find a way out of the tangle.”
Clare gave him a quick, disturbed
look. “It would be much better if you took
it for granted that we must, to some extent, be enemies.”
“No. I’m afraid your
father and I are enemies, but that’s not the
same.”
“It is; you can see that it
must be,” Clare insisted; and then, as if anxious
to change the subject, went on: “He was
too busy to bring me to-night so I came with Don Sebastian
and his wife. It is not very gay in Santa Brigida
and one gets tired of being alone.”
Her voice fell a little as she concluded,
and Dick, who understood something of her isolation
from friends of her race, longed to take her in his
arms and comfort her. Indeed, had the quarter-deck
been deserted he might have tried, for he felt that
her refusal had sprung from wounded pride and a sense
of duty. There was something in her manner that
hinted that it had not been easy to send him away.
Yet he saw she could be firm and thought it wise to
follow her lead.
“Then your father has been occupied lately,”
he remarked.
“Yes; he is often away.
He goes to Adexe and is generally busy in the evenings.
People come to see him and keep him talking in his
room. Our friends no longer spend the evening
in the patio.”
Dick understood her. She wanted
to convince him that Kenwardine was a business man
and only gambled when he had nothing else to do.
Indeed, her motive was rather pitifully obvious, and
Dick knew that he had not been mistaken about her
character. Clare had, no doubt, once yielded to
her father’s influence, but it was impossible
that she took any part in his plots. She was
transparently honest; he knew this as he watched her
color come and go.
“After all, I don’t think
you liked many of the people who came,” he said.
“I liked Jake,” she answered
and stopped with a blush, while Dick felt half ashamed,
because he had deprived her of the one companion she
could trust.
“Well,” he said, “it
isn’t altogether my fault that Jake doesn’t
come to see you. We have had some accidents that
delayed the work and he has not been able to leave
the dam.”
He was silent for the next few minutes.
Since Clare was eager to defend Kenwardine, she might
be led to tell something about his doings from which
a useful hint could be gathered, and Dick greatly wished
to know who visited his house on business. Still,
it was impossible that he should make the girl betray
her father. The fight was between him and Kenwardine,
and Clare must be kept outside it. With this resolve,
he began to talk about the dancing, and soon afterward
Jake came up and asked Clare for the next waltz.
She smiled and gave Dick a challenging glance.
“Certainly,” he said with
a bow, and then turned to Jake. “As Miss
Kenwardine has been put in my charge, you must bring
her back.”
Jake grinned as he promised and remarked
as they went away: “Makes a good duena,
doesn’t he? You can trust Dick to guard
anything he’s told to take care of. In
fact, if I’d a sister I wanted to leave in safe
hands ” He paused and laughed.
“But that’s the trouble. It was my
sister who told him to take care of me.”
Dick did not hear Clare’s reply,
but watched her dance until Don Sebastian’s
wife came up. After that he went away, and presently
strolled along the highest deck. This was narrower
than the others, but was extended as far as the side
of the ship by beams on which the boats were stowed.
There were no rails, for passengers were not allowed
up there; but Dick, who was preoccupied and moody,
wanted to be alone. The moon had now risen above
the mountains and the sea glittered between the shore
and the ship. Looking down, he saw a row of boats
rise and fall with the languid swell near her tall
side, and the flash of the surf that washed the end
of the mole. Then, taking out a cigarette, he
strolled towards the captain’s room, which stood
behind the bridge, and stopped near it in the shadow
of a big lifeboat.
The room was lighted, and the door
and windows were half open because the night was hot.
Carelessly glancing in, Dick saw Don Sebastian sitting
at the table with the captain and engineer. This
somewhat surprised him, for the purser transacted
the ship’s business and, so far as he knew, none
of the other guests had been taken to the captain’s
room. He felt puzzled about Don Sebastian, whom
he had met once or twice. The fellow had an air
of authority and the smaller officials treated him
with respect.
Something in the men’s attitude
indicated that they were talking confidentially, and
Dick thought he had better go away without attracting
their attention; but just then the captain turned in
his chair and looked out. Dick decided to wait
until he looked round again, and next moment Don Sebastian
asked: “Have you plenty coal?”
“I think so,” the engineer
replied. “The after-bunkers are full, but
I’d have taken a few extra barge-loads here
only I didn’t want any of the shore péons
to see how much I’d already got.”
Dick did not understand this, because
coal was somewhat cheaper and the facilities for shipping
it were better at the boat’s next port of call,
to which it was only a two-days’ run. Then
the captain, who turned to Don Sebastian, remarked:
“Making the sailing list prominent
was a happy thought, and it was lucky your friends
backed us up well by their speeches. You saw how
I took advantage of the lead they gave me, but I hope
we haven’t overdone the thing.”
“No,” said Don Sebastian
thoughtfully; “I imagine nobody suspects anything
yet.”
“Perhaps you had better clear
the ship soon, sir,” said the engineer.
“Steam’s nearly up and it takes some coal ”
The room door slipped off its hook
and swung wide open as the vessel rolled, and Dick,
who could not withdraw unnoticed, decided to light
his cigarette in order that the others might see that
they were not alone. As he struck the match the
captain got up.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
“One of the foreign passengers,
I expect; the mates can’t keep them off this
deck,” the engineer replied. “I don’t
suppose the fellow knows English, but shall I send
him down?”
“I think not. It might
look as if we were afraid of being overheard.”
Dick held the match to his cigarette
for a moment or two before he threw it away, and as
he walked past noted that Don Sebastian had come out
on deck. Indeed, he thought the man had seen
his face and was satisfied, because he turned back
into the room. Dick went down a ladder to the
deck below, where he stopped and thought over what
he had heard. It was plain that some precautions
had been taken against the risk of capture, but he
could not understand why Don Sebastian had been told
about them.
By and by he thought he would speak
to the purser, whom he knew, and went down the alleyway
that led to his office. The door was hooked back,
but the passage was narrow and a fat Spanish lady
blocked the entrance. She was talking to the
purser and Dick saw that he must wait until she had
finished. A man stood a few yards behind her,
unscrewing a flute, and as a folded paper that looked
like music stuck out of his pocket he appeared to
belong to the band.
“But it is Tuesday you arrive
at Palomas!” the lady exclaimed.
“About then,” the purser
answered in awkward Castilian. “We may be
a little late.”
“But how much late?”
“I cannot tell. Perhaps a day or two.”
“At dinner the captain said ”
“Just so. But he was speaking
generally without knowing all the arrangements.”
Dick could not see into the office,
but heard the purser open a drawer and shuffle some
papers, as if he wanted to get rid of his questioner.
“It is necessary that I know
when we arrive,” the lady resumed. “If
it is not Tuesday, I must send a telegram.”
The purser shut the drawer noisily,
but just then a bell rang overhead and the whistle
blew to warn the visitors that they must go ashore.
“Then you must be quick,”
said the purser. “Write your message here
and give it to me. You need not be disturbed.
We will land you at Palomas.”
The lady entered the office, but Dick
thought her telegram would not be sent, and a moment
later the captain’s plan dawned on him.
The ship would call at the ports named, but not in
the order stated, and this was why she needed so much
coal. She would probably steam first to the port
farthest off and then work backward, and the sailing
list was meant to put the raider off the track.
The latter’s commander, warned by spies who
would send him the list, would think he knew where
to find the vessel at any particular date, when, however,
she would be somewhere else. Then Dick wondered
why the musician was hanging about, and went up to
him.
“The sobrecargo’s busy,”
he said in English. “You’ll be taken
to sea unless you get up on deck.”
“I no wanta el sobrecargo,”
the man replied in a thick, stupid voice. “The
music is thirsty; I wanta drink.”
The second-class bar was farther down
the alleyway, and Dick, indicating it, turned back
and made his way to the poop as fast as he could, for
he did not think the man was as drunk as he looked.
He found the musicians collecting their stands, and
went up to the bandmaster.
“There’s one of your men
below who has been drinking too much cana,”
he said. “You had better look after him.”
“But they are all here,”
the bandmaster answered, glancing round the poop.
“The man had a flute.”
“But we have no flute-player.”
“Then he must have been a passenger,”
said Dick, who hurried to the gangway.
After hailing his fireman to bring
the launch alongside, he threw a quick glance about.
The shore boatmen were pushing their craft abreast
of the ladder and shouting as they got in each other’s
way, but one boat had already left the ship and was
pulling fast towards the harbor. There seemed
to be only one man on board besides her crew, and Dick
had no doubt that he was the flute-player. He
must be followed, since it was important to find out
whom he met and if, as Dick suspected, he meant to
send off a telegram. But the liner’s captain
must be warned, and Dick turned hastily around.
The windlass was rattling and the bridge, on which
he could see the captain’s burly figure, was
some distance off, while the passage between the gangway
and deckhouse was blocked by the departing guests.
The anchor would probably be up before
he could push his way through the crowd, and if he
was not carried off to sea, he would certainly lose
sight of the spy. Writing a line or two on the
leaf of his pocket-book, he tore it out and held it
near a Creole steward boy.
“Take that to the sobrecargo
at once,” he cried, and seeing the boy stoop
to pick up the note, which fell to the deck, ran down
the ladder.
He had, however, to wait a minute
while the fireman brought the launch alongside between
the other boats, and when they pushed off Don Sebastian,
scrambling across one of the craft, jumped on board.
He smiled when Dick looked at him with annoyed surprise.
“I think my business is yours,
but there is no time for explanations,” he said.
“Tell your man to go full speed.”
The launch quivered and leaped ahead
with the foam curling at her bows, and Dick did not
look round when he heard an expostulating shout.
Jake and Bethune must get ashore as they could; his
errand was too important to stop for them, particularly
as he could no longer see the boat in front.
She had crossed the glittering belt of moonlight and
vanished into the shadow near the mole. Her occupant
had had some minutes’ start and had probably
landed, but it might be possible to find out where
he had gone.
“Screw the valve wide open,” Dick told
the fireman.
The rattle of the engine quickened
a little, the launch lifted her bows, and her stern
sank into the hollow of a following wave. When
she steamed up the harbor a boat lay near some steps,
and as the launch slackened speed Dick asked her crew
which way their passenger had gone.
“Up the mole, senor,” one answered breathlessly.
“It is all you will learn from
them,” Don Sebastian remarked. “I
think we will try the telegrafía first.”
There was no time for questions and
Dick jumped out as the launch ran alongside the steps.
Don Sebastian stopped him when he reached the top.
“In Santa Brigida, nobody runs
unless there is an earthquake or a revolution.
We do not want people to follow us.”
Dick saw the force of this and started
for the telegraph office, walking as fast as possible.
When he looked round, his companion had vanished,
but he rejoined him on the steps of the building.
They went in together and found nobody except a languid
clerk leaning on a table. Don Sebastian turned
to Dick and said in English, “It will be better
if you leave this matter to me.”
Dick noted that the clerk suddenly
became alert when he saw his companion, but he waited
at a few yards’ distance and Don Sebastian said:
“A man came in not long since with a telegram.
He was short and very dark and probably signed the
form Vinoles.”
“He did, senor,” said the clerk.
“Very well. I want to see the message before
it is sent.”
“It has gone, senor, three or four minutes ago.”
Don Sebastian made a gesture of resignation,
spreading out his hands. “Then bring me
the form.”
Dick thought it significant that the
clerk at once obeyed, but Don Sebastian, who stood
still for a moment, turned to him.
“It is as I thought,”
he said in English, and ordered the clerk: “Take
us into the manager’s room.”
The other did so, and after shutting
the door withdrew. Don Sebastian threw the form
on the table.
“It seems we are too late,” he said.