The Coast of Adventure

  CHAPTER X

  THE PEON PILOT

  Grahame and Macallister stood on deck, peering into the moonlit jungleof mangroves. So far as they could judge, there was only one pair ofoars making the splashes that had aroused them; but they could hear theblades dig deep into the water with an intense effort that could meanonly haste on the part of the boatsman.

  They waited; and presently the small boat appeared in the moonlight andthey saw a single figure, who dropped one oar and crossed himselfreligiously.

  "_Gracias a Dios!_" he said.

  "The pilot!" Macallister gasped.

  Grahame waited, tense and alert, until the pilot climbed on board. Theinstant the half-breed touched the deck he began gesticulating wildlyand talking so rapidly that Grahame had difficulty in grasping hismeaning. Miguel, who was more at home in the peon Spanish, explained--inEnglish, for Macallister's sake.

  "The government men catch him; make him tell; he escape; take shortpath--Indian _senda_; get here first. _Soldados_ coming. We hurry!"

  Miguel had worked himself up to a state of great excitement, and when hefinished, his bare feet went pattering off across the deck almost beforeGrahame could give the order.

  Tired as the men were, they realized the necessity for haste, and theylost no time in getting under way. There was a clatter in the stokeholdas the fires were cleaned, the dinghy crept across the creek, andhalf-seen men forward hurriedly coiled in a wet rope. Then the boat cameback and the windlass rattled while the propeller floundered slowlyround. The anchor rose to the bows and the _Enchantress_ moved awayagainst the flood tide.

  The pilot took the wheel while Grahame stood beside him. There werebroad, light patches where the water dazzled Grahame's eyes, and thenbelts of gloom in which the mangroves faded to a formless blur. Still,they did not touch bottom; miry points round which the tide swirled,rotting logs on mud-banks, and misty trees crept astern, and at lastthey heard the rumble of the swell on beaten sand.

  She glided on, lifting now and then with a louder gurgle about herplanks. When a white beach gleamed in the moonlight where the treesbroke off, the _Enchantress_ stopped to land the faithful pilot, who hadfirst betrayed and then saved them.

  "It was a risky thing he did," Grahame said, as the half-breed, standingeasily in his boat, swaying with the rhythm of his oars, rowed off intothe moonlight. "Suppose they had caught him coming to us--or with us!"

  "I'm thinking yon pilot's a bit of a hero," Macallister respondedlaconically. "Albeit a coward first!"

  "Oh, it was all for Don Martin's sake that he risked his own hide towarn us. Don Martin has a wonderful hold on those peons. They'd gothrough fire and water for him."

  The _Enchantress_ skirted a point where two sentinel cedar-trees stoodout blackly against the sky; then the spray leaped about the bows as shedipped to the swell, and the throb of engines quickened as she left theshore behind.

  * * * * *

  Two weeks later the _Enchantress_ was steaming across a sea that wasflecked with purple shadow and lighted by incandescent foam. Macallisterlounged in the engine-room doorway, Grahame sat smoking on a coil ofrope, and Walthew, wrapped in a dirty blanket, lay under the awning. Hisface was hollow, his hair damp and lank, and his hands, with which hewas clumsily rolling a cigarette, were very thin. The deck was piledwith a load of dyewood, which they had bought rather with the object ofaccounting for their cruise than for the profit that might be made onit.

  "It's good to feel alive on a day like this, but I suspect it wasdoubtful for a time whether I'd have that satisfaction," Walthewremarked languidly. "Guess I owe you both a good deal."

  They had stubbornly fought the fever that was wasting him away, and hadfelt that they must be beaten, but Macallister grinned.

  "I'll no' deny that ye were an interesting case and gave us a chance o'making two or three experiments. As ye seem none the worse for them, yemust be tougher than ye look."

  "I thought tampering with other people's watches was your specialty."

  "What's a watch compared with the human body?" Macallister asked.

  "You do know something about springs and wheels, but it's differentwith drugs. I expect you gave way to an unholy curiosity to see how theywould work."

  "Maybe there's something in the notion. An engineer canna help wantingto find out how things act. It's a matter o' temperament, and there'sno' a great difference between watching the effect o' a new oil on yourpiston-rings and seeing what happens when a patient swallows yourprescription. I'll say this for ye: ye were docile."

  "I've survived," said Walthew. "From my point of view, that's the mostimportant thing."

  "And now you had better think about the future," Grahame interposed."Some people are practically immune from malaria; others get itmoderately now and then, and some it breaks down for good. At first it'sdifficult to tell which class one belongs to, but you have had a sharpattack. There's some risk of your spending the rest of your life as anague-stricken invalid if you stick to us."

  "How heavy is the risk?"

  "Nobody can tell you that, but it's to be reckoned with. I understandthat your father would take you back?"

  "He'd be glad to do so, on his terms," said Walthew thoughtfully."Still, it's hard to admit that you're beaten, and I suspect the old manwould have a feeling that I might have made a better show. He wants meto give in and yet he'd be sorry if I did."

  "Suppose you go home in twelve months with a profit on the money he gaveyou?" Grahame suggested.

  "Then I'm inclined to think he'd welcome me on any terms I cared tomake."

  "Think it over well and leave us out of the question," Grahame said.

  "You can't be left out," Walthew answered with a gleam in his eyes. "ButI'll wait until I feel better. I may see my way then."

  They left him and he lighted his cigarette, though the tobacco did nottaste good. Hardship and toil had not daunted him, the risk of shipwreckand capture had given the game a zest, but the foul mangrove quagmires,where the fever lurks in the tainted air, had brought him a shrinkingdread. One could take one's chance of being suddenly cut off, but to gohome with permanently broken health or perhaps, as sometimes happened,with a disordered brain, was a different thing. Since he took malariabadly, the matter demanded careful thought. In the meanwhile, it wasenough to lie in the shade and feel his strength come back.

  A few days later they reached Havana, where they sold the dyewood andhad arranged to meet Don Martin Sarmiento, whose affairs occasionallynecessitated a visit to Cuba.

  One evening soon after his arrival, Grahame stood in the _patio_ of theHotel International. The International had been built by somelong-forgotten Spanish _hidalgo_, and still bore traces of ancient art.The basin in the courtyard with the stone lions guarding its emptyfountain was Moorish, the balconies round the house had beautiful bronzebalustrades cast three hundred years ago, and the pillars supportingthem were delicately light.

  The building had, however, been modernized, for part of the _patio_ wasroofed with glass, and wide steps, tiled in harsh colors, led to alounge through which one entered the dining-room, where everything wasarranged on the latest American plan. There was a glaring cafe in thefront of the building, and an archway at the back led to the uncoveredend of the _patio_, where porters, pedlers, and the like importuned theguests.

  Just then this space was occupied by a group of Chinamen, half-breeds,and negroes, and Grahame was watching them carelessly when he heard astep behind him. Turning abruptly, he stood facing Evelyn Cliffe. Heimagined that she looked disturbed, but she frankly gave him her hand.

  "You!" she exclaimed. "This is something of a surprise."

  "That's what I felt," he answered. "I hope the pleasure's also mutual.But you see, I get my meals here and Walthew has a room. He has beendown with fever and isn't quite better yet."

  "And I've just arrived with my father, who has some business in thetown," Evelyn said and laughed. "I nearly missed meeting you, because Ithought you w
ere a stranger and I meant to slip past, but you were tooquick. Do you generally swing round in that alert manner when you hearsomebody behind you?"

  "I admit it's a habit of mine--though I must have been clumsy if younoticed it. A number of people go barefooted in these countries, and thebusiness I'm engaged in demands some caution."

  "Then it's lucky you have self-control, because you might run a risk ofinjuring a harmless friend by mistake."

  "One does not mistake one's friends. They're not too plentiful," hereplied, smiling.

  "But what is the business that makes you so careful?"

  "I think I could best call myself a general adventurer, but at presentI'm engaged in trade. In fact, I'm living rather extravagantly afterselling a cargo."

  Evelyn gave him a quick glance. His manner was humorous, but sheimagined he wished to remind her that he did not belong to her world.This jarred, because there was an imperious strain in her, and she feltthat she could choose her acquaintances as she liked. Besides, it wasmocking her intelligence to suggest that the man was not her equal bybirth and education. For all that, she had been disconcerted to find himin the hotel. He had exerted a disturbing influence when they first met,and she had had some trouble in getting free from it. That the influencewas unintentional made things no better, because Evelyn did not want herthoughts to center on a man who made no attempt to please her. Yet shefelt a strange pleasure in his society.

  "I suppose you are waiting for dinner now?" she said.

  "Yes," he answered. "Shall we look for a seat here? A fellow who singsrather well sometimes comes in."

  He led her to a bench near the marble basin under the broad leaves of apalm. Evelyn noticed that the spot was sufficiently public to offer nohint of privacy, and she admired his tact. It got dark while theyengaged in casual talk, and colored servants lighted lamps among theplants and flowers. Then the soft tinkle of a guitar and a clear voice,trilling on the higher notes with the Spanish tremolo, came out of theshadow. One or two others joined in, and Evelyn listened with enjoyment.

  "The _Campanadas_," Grahame said. "It's a favorite of mine. The refrainstates that grapes eaten in pleasant company taste like honey."

  "Isn't that a free translation? I'm not a Spanish scholar, but I imagineit means something more personal than company in general."

  "Yes," said Grahame slowly. "It really means--with you."

  The music changed to a plaintive strain, which had something seductiveand passionate in its melancholy.

  "_Las aves marinas_," said Evelyn. "That means the sea-birds, doesn'tit? What is the rest?"

  "I won't paraphrase this time. The song declares that although thesea-birds fly far across the waves they cannot escape the pains of love.These people are a sentimental lot, but the idea's poetical."

  "I wonder whether it's true," Evelyn said with a smile. "Perhaps youought to know."

  "The sea-birds are fierce wild things that live by prey. One associatesthem with elemental strife--the white tide-surge across desolate sandsand the pounding of the combers on weedy reefs--and not with domesticpeace. That's the lot of the tame land-birds that haunt the shelteredcopse."

  "And cannot one have sympathy with these?"

  "Oh, yes. I've often stopped to listen while a speckled thrush sang itslove-song among the bare ash-boughs in our rain-swept North. The joyfultrilling goes straight to one's heart."

  "And lingers there?"

  "Where our thrushes sing, you can, if you listen, hear the distant roarof the sea. It's a more insistent call than the other."

  "But only if you listen! Cannot you close your ears?"

  "That might be wiser. It depends upon your temperament."

  Evelyn was silent for the next minute or two, and Grahame mused. He hadfelt the charm of the girl's beauty, and suspected in her a spirit akinto his. She had courage, originality, and, he thought, a longing,hitherto curbed by careful social training, to venture beyond theborders of a tame, conventional life. It was possible that he mightstrengthen it; but this would not be playing a straight game. For allthat, he was tempted, and he smiled as he recalled that in earlier dayshis ancestors had stolen their brides.

  "Why are you amused?" Evelyn asked.

  "An idle thought came into my mind," he said awkwardly.

  Evelyn smiled.

  "My father has come to look for me; but I shall see you again. You willbe here some time?"

  "A few days."

  He watched her join Cliffe in the archway that led from the _patio_, andthen he sat down again on the bench under the palm-tree. But he nolonger heard the strum of the guitars nor the tinkle of the mandolins:he was thinking of Evelyn. There seemed to be some peculiar bond ofsympathy between them; he felt that she understood him even when nothingmuch was said.

  "Mooning all alone?" came Walthew's voice.

  Grahame laughed, and joined his comrade and Macallister, who had enteredthe _patio_ with Don Martin and Blanca.