The Coast of Adventure

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE RUSE

  Cliffe and his daughter were landed at Kingston, and three weeks laterGrahame put into a Central-American port. The propeller was not runningwell, and Macallister, suspecting it was working loose on the shaft,declared that he must put the vessel on a beach where she would dry atlow-water. Grahame had a few days to spare, for he could not land hiscargo before the time Don Martin had fixed; but as the arms were onboard he would have preferred to wait at sea, outside the regularsteamers' track.

  It happened that there was no repair-shop in the town, but whileMacallister thought over the difficulty a tramp steamer dropped anchor,and he went off to her, remarking that he might find a friend on board.In an hour or two the gig came back, and Grahame, hearing _My boat rocksat the pier o' Leith_ sung discordantly, saw that Macallister'sexpectations had been fulfilled. This did not surprise him, for theScots engineer is ubiquitous and to have "wrought" at Clydebank orFairfield is a passport to his affection.

  Macallister's face was flushed and his air jaunty, but the tall, gauntman who accompanied him looked woodenly solemn. He began by emptying abasket of greasy tools on the _Enchantress's_ white deck with thedisregard for the navigating officers' feelings which the engine-roommechanic often displays. After this, he went down a rope and sat on thesand under the boat's counter, studying the loose screw while he smokedseveral pipes of rank tobacco, but without making any remark. Then hegot up and slowly stretched his lanky frame.

  "Weel," he said, "we'll make a start."

  It was eleven o'clock on a very hot morning when he and Macallisterlighted a blow-lamp, the flame of which showed faint and blue in thestrong sunshine, and they labored on until dusk fell between six andseven in the evening. Offers of food and refreshment were uncivillydeclined, and Watson ignored Grahame's invitation to spend the eveningon board.

  "I'll be back the morn," was all he said as he was rowed away.

  "A new type!" Grahame laughed.

  "He's unique," Walthew agreed. "Only addressed me twice, and then in avery personal strain. But the fellow's an artist in his way. Spent twohours softening and filing up a taper key, but it fitted air-tight whenwe drove it in. Something Roman about that man; means his work to lastforever."

  Operations were resumed the next morning, and Grahame had no doubt ofthe excellence of the job when the Scots seemed satisfied late in theafternoon. Then Watson said he would come back to dine when he hadcleaned himself and would bring his skipper, and Grahame dubiouslyinspected his small stock of wine. He imagined it had not sufficientbite to please his guests.

  The tramp skipper presently arrived: a short, stout man, with a humorouseye. When dinner was over and the wine finished, the party adjourned tothe cafe Bolivar, but Grahame went with misgivings. He knew somethingabout the habits of tramp captains, and had seen trouble result from theeccentricities of Scotch engineers. The garrison band was playing in theplaza they crossed, and citizens promenaded up and down with their wivesand daughters. The clear moonlight fell upon gayly-colored dresses andfaces of various shades, while here and there a jingling officer,lavishly decorated with gold-lace, added an extra touch of brightness.Nobody, however, showed a friendly interest in Grahame's party, forAmericans and English were not just then regarded with much favor in theports of the Spanish Main. Indeed, Grahame fancied that a group ofslouching soldiers meant to get into his way, but as a brawl was notdesirable, he tactfully avoided them.

  The cafe was situated at the end of the square, and the party, sittingat a small table among the pillars that divided its open front from thepavement, could look down upon the moonlit harbor. The inlet was longand shallow, with an old Spanish fort among the sands at its outer endand another commanding it from a height behind the town. A cathedralstood opposite the cafe; and narrow, dark streets, radiating from theplaza, pierced the square blocks of houses.

  Walthew and Grahame drank black coffee; but this had no attraction forthe rest. The tramp captain, soon becoming genial, put his feet on achair and beamed upon his neighbors, while Macallister, as usual,entered into talk with them. He discoursed at random in very badCastilian, but his remarks were humorous and in spite of the citizens'prejudices, laughter followed them. Watson sat stonily quiet, drinkingfiery _cana_ and frowning at the crowd.

  "Ye were aye a dumb stirk at Clydebank," Macallister said to him. "Canye no' talk instead o' glowering like a death's-head?"

  "I can when I'm roused," Watson replied. "Maybe ye'll hear somethingfrae me when I'm through wi' this bottle."

  "It's the nature o' the man," Macallister informed the others and then,addressing the company, asked if anybody could sing.

  No one offered to do so, and, beckoning a dark-complexioned lounger whohad a guitar hung round his neck, he brought him to their table and gavehim wine. Then he borrowed the guitar, and, somewhat to Grahame'ssurprise, began a passable rendering of a Spanish song.

  The captain beat time with a bottle, some of the company sang therefrain, and, after finishing amidst applause, Macallister tried themusic of his native land. In this he was less successful, for the wildairs, written for the bagpipes, did not go well upon the melancholyguitar.

  "It's no' the thing at all," Watson remarked. "Ye're just ploddingthrough it like a seven-knot tramp against the tide. Can ye no' open thethrottle and give her steam?"

  Before Macallister could answer, a neatly dressed gentleman brought abottle of vermouth from a neighboring table and joined the group.

  "You like a drink?" he asked politely.

  Watson nodded, and, taking the small bottle, emptied half of the liqueurinto his glass.

  "Yon's no' so bad," he commented when he had drained the glass.

  The stranger smiled as he poured out the rest of the vermouth forWatson.

  "You mend the steamboat screw?" he asked carelessly.

  "Yes, my friend," Watson replied, regarding the stranger out of sleepylooking eyes.

  "How it come loose?"

  "Tail-nut slacked up when the engines ran away in heavy weather."

  "You get bad weather, then?"

  "Bad enough," Watson answered.

  Grahame gave him a cautious glance, but his face was expressionless. Itwas obvious that the stranger had mistaken him for the _Enchantress's_engineer. Watson must have realized this, but he had given the fellowmisleading answers, and Grahame thought he need not run the risk oftrying to warn him. He wondered, though, how far Macallister had takenWatson into his confidence.

  "Small boat," said the stranger; "you find her wet when it blow. Whatyou load?"

  "Mahogany and dyewood, when it's to be got."

  "Then you go to Manzanillo; perhaps to Honduras. But she not carry much;not room for big logs below."

  "The big ones sit on deck," said Watson stolidly.

  The man ordered some cognac, but Grahame imagined that he was wastinghis hospitality. Though the Scot's legs might grow unsteady, his headwould remain clear.

  "There is cargo that pay better than wood," his companion suggested witha meaning smile.

  "Maybe," agreed Watson. "But ye run a risk in carrying it."

  "Ver' true. And when you go to sea?"

  "I canna' tell. The high-press' piston must come up. She's loosened aring."

  The stranger made a few general remarks and then strolled away. He hadlearned, at the cost of a bottle of vermouth and some brandy, thatWatson was the _Enchantress's_ engineer, and the vessel would not sailfor a day or two.

  Grahame chuckled. He meant to leave port the next morning.

  Having spent some time at the cafe, he felt that he could now leave hisguests. They might, perhaps, indulge in boisterous amusements but he didnot think they would come to harm. Indeed, if anybody were hurt in a rowit would more likely be the citizens who came into collision with them.

  "All right; I've had enough," Walthew said when Grahame touched him."Mack's going to sing again, and I can't stand for that."

  The moon had sunk behind the white houses as they
crossed the plaza, andGrahame kept down the middle, avoiding the crowd near the bandstand andthe narrow mouths of the streets.

  "Who was that fellow talking to Watson?" Walthew asked.

  "I don't know, but he was interested in our affairs. They have a goodsecret service in these countries, and we're open to suspicion. We'reobviously not yachtsmen, and the boat's too small for a regulartrader."

  "Do you think the man's an agent of the government we're up against?"

  "I don't know. I'd hardly expect them to send their spies along thecoast; but, then, these States may keep each other informed about themovements of dangerous people. Anyway, there'd be an excuse for troubleif they searched us and found the rifles."

  "Sure," said Walthew thoughtfully. "It's fortunate we light outto-morrow."

  He looked round as they reached the end of the plaza. The band hadstopped, and the ring of lights round its stand was broken as the lampswent out, but a broad, illuminated track extended from the front of thecafe. The thinning crowd moved across it: a stream of black figuressilhouetted against the light. Everything else was dark, and except forthe soft patter of feet the city was quiet; but it had a sinister look,and Walthew instinctively kept away from the trees in the small_alameda_ they skirted. He was an Anglo-Saxon, and would not shrink froma danger that could be faced in daylight, but he hated the stealthyattack in the dark and the hidden intrigues the Latin half-breedsdelight in.

  When they reached the beach he stumbled over a small anvil lying nearhigh-water mark, and after another few steps trod upon a hammer.

  "They have left all their tools about," he said. "Shall we call the boysand put the truck on board?"

  "I think not," Grahame replied. "It's the marine engineer's privilege tomake as much mess as he likes, and he generally resents its beingcleaned up without his permission. Besides, their leaving the thingssuggests that the job's not finished."

  They pushed off the dinghy and boarded the steamer. The tide had flowedround her, but she would not float for an hour or two, and Walthew,sitting on the rail, glanced down the harbor. It was now very dark, butthe water had a phosphorescent gleam. The _Enchantress's_ cable wasmarked by lambent spangles, and there was a flicker of green fire alongthe tramp's dark side. Her riding-lights tossed as she swung with thelanguid swell, and away at the harbor mouth two bright specks piercedthe dark. A small gunboat had anchored at dusk, and as the fort hadfired a salute she was evidently a foreigner. Walthew felt curious abouther nationality, and wondered why she lay where she commanded theentrance instead of mooring near the town. Grahame, however, did notseem disturbed, and they presently sat down to a game of chess in thesaloon.

  Although the ports were open, it was very hot, and when the kerosenelamp flickered in the draughts an unpleasant smell filled the room. Themen felt languid and their attention wandered from the dragging game. Atlast Walthew threw the pieces roughly into the box.

  "You'd have seen what I was getting after with the bishop if you hadn'tbeen thinking of something else," he said. "It's been a mighty longgame; Mack ought to have come back."

  Grahame nodded agreement, and they went out on deck. The town was quiet,and, so far as they could see, only one light burned in it, between theplaza and the _alameda_. Then an uproar broke out, the clamor reachingthem distinctly over the night water. Grahame, running to theengine-room, shook the drowsy half-breed on watch and ordered him tostir the fires, which had been lighted and damped. Then he dropped overthe rail into the dinghy with Walthew, and as soon as they jumped ashorethey started for the plaza on a run.

  "Sounds like a _jamboree_," Walthew said. "When things begin to humyou'll find Mack somewhere around; and that tramp captain looked as ifhe could get on a jag."

  "He had a wicked eye," Grahame breathlessly agreed.

  As they entered the plaza, a noisy crowd, which seemed to be gettinglarger rapidly, surged toward them. In the background the cafe Bolivarwas still lighted, and close at hand a lamp burned at the top of a tallpole. For all that, it was difficult to make out anything except a massof people pressing about a smaller group, and Grahame roughly flung twoor three excited citizens aside before he could see what was going on.Then he was not surprised to note a party of three Britons retreating ingood order before an obviously hostile mob. The tramp captain had losthis hat and his jacket was torn, but he carried a champagne bottle likea club, and his hot, red face had a pugnacious look. Macallister trailedthe leg of a broken iron chair, and Watson seemed to have armed himselfwith part of the chair's back. He was hurling virulent epithets at thethrong, while Macallister sang a sentimental ballad in an unsteadyvoice.

  As Grahame and Walthew drew nearer, the crowd closed in as if to cut offthe others' retreat, but a shout from Watson dominated the growinguproar.

  "Oot o' the way, ye dirt! Drap yon deevil wi' the knife!"

  Macallister, still singing, swung the leg of the chair and a man wentdown upon the stones, the knife he held flying from his hand. There wasa thud as the captain's champagne bottle descended on somebody's head;and Watson sprang forward, whirling the broken casting. The crowd gaveback before his rush and then scattered as Grahame and Walthew appearedin the gap. The fugitives stopped; and during the moment's breathingspace Grahame noticed that a smashed guitar, adorned with gaudy ribbons,hung round Macallister's neck.

  "It was yon fool thing made the trouble," Watson explained. "He rackedher till she buckled, but she would not keep the tune, and we had to pither owner below the table. Then an officer wi' a sword would interfereand when he got a bit tap wi' a bottle we were mobbed by the roomful o'swine."

  He paused as somebody threw a stone at him, and then addressed the crowdin warning:

  "We'll no' be responsible for what may happen til ye if we lose ourtempers!"

  The mob had been closing in again, but it fell back when twowhite-uniformed rural guards with pistols drawn pushed through. Grahamespoke to them in Castilian, and they stopped. While they asked himquestions, another man, whom they saluted with respect, joined them.

  "It is not permitted to make a disturbance in this city," the officialsaid to Grahame. "We will inquire into the matter to-morrow. You will goon board your vessel now."

  "I'm no' going," Watson declared when Grahame translated the order."Took a room at Hotel Sevillana, and I want to see the dago who wouldpit me oot."

  "Better humor him," advised the captain. "Obstinate beast when he gets anotion into his head. If he's not on board in the morning, I'll send aboatful of deckhands for him."

  Grahame explained that the engineer wished to spend the night ashore,and the official looked thoughtful.

  "Very well," he said. "One of the guards will see him to his hotel. Itis necessary for him to go now."

  "Ye can tell him I'm ready," Watson replied, and added in a low voice ashe passed Grahame: "Get away to sea as soon as she floats!"

  He went off with his escort and the official said something aside to theremaining guard, who saluted and told the others to follow him. Thecrowd had scattered, and nobody interfered with the party on their wayto the harbor.

  "I will wait until I see you go on board," the guard said when theyreached the beach. "You will be called upon some time to-morrow."

  "They'd have been wiser if they had begun their investigations now,"Grahame remarked as they launched the dinghy. "She'll be afloat in halfan hour. Do you feel up to running the engine, Mack? If not, Walthewmust do the best he can."

  "I could take her oot if I was drunk and I'm far frae that," Macallisterdeclared. "Looks as if ye had no' allooed for the steadiness o' theScottish head. Noo, there's Watson, and I'll no' say he was quitesober, but he could spoil yon dago's game. Maybe ye're beginning tounderstand why he would sleep ashore. They think ye canna' get awaywithoot him."

  "I see that," said Grahame. "Better send your fireman to collect yourtools when Miguel looses the stern mooring. And try to restrain yourfeelings if things are not quite right below. It's important that weshould get away quietly."

&nb
sp; They reached the _Enchantress_, and preparations for departure weresilently begun.

  They must first slip past the watching fort, and then elude the foreigngunboat. They knew the consequences if they were caught.