CHAPTER XVII
ELUDING THE GUNBOAT
The night was very dark. Here and there a lone star peeped out bravely,but it could shine but faintly through the heavy mist that was settlingdown over the _Enchantress_.
Grahame, the leadline in his hand, leaned anxiously on the rail,watching the foam boil about the vessel's side. Her keel stirred in thesand and the propeller was beating hard; but she did not move. To makethings worse, the disturbed water broke noisily on the beach and thethud of engines could be heard at some distance. Grahame had notcomplied with the formalities required before leaving port, but hecarried a dangerous cargo and he feared that he might be detained unlesshe got away at once. The _Enchantress_, however, was not yet afloat, andhe reluctantly signaled for steam to be shut off.
Walthew came up when the engines stopped, and Grahame sat down on theledge of the door. It was very quiet when the splash of water died away,and the darkness and silence reacted upon the men's tense nerves. Theyfound inaction singularly hard.
"You have got to take her out the minute she's off the ground," Walthewsaid. "To be caught getting ready to leave would give us away."
"Sure thing! The Port Captain's guard watches the beach; they'vesentries at the fort and a wire to the town; and there's a gunboat inthe entrance. Our job doesn't look easy."
"Ye have quarter o' an hour yet, but that's all," Macallister said as hejoined them. "If I canna' give the engines steam then, she'll blow offand rouse the town."
They waited anxiously, Grahame glancing at his watch and walking to therail, where he felt the leadline; but the water rose with exasperatingslowness. Then suddenly a jet of steam broke with a muffled throb fromthe escape-pipe, and Macallister jumped up.
"Ye have got to start her noo!" he said.
Walthew followed him below; the engines clanked; the propeller spun; andGrahame hauled the lead in with a breath of relief, for the line grewtaut as the vessel moved. Then he stood in the main rigging, where hecould see better and where Miguel, at the helm, could watch hissignaling hand. With screw throbbing gently, the _Enchantress_ creptaway into the dark. Her gray hull would be invisible from the shore, butphosphorescence blazed about her bows and her wake was a trail of fire.
The tramp steamer rode not far ahead, a mysterious shadowy bulk, withthe gleam of her anchor-lights on the water, but as the _Enchantress_stole past a voice called out to her:
"Good luck!"
Grahame did not answer, but he was grateful. The tramp captainunderstood why his engineer had stayed ashore. Macallister's friendswere staunch; the Scots stood by one another.
The light in the plaza grew dim astern, and the blurred, dark beach wasrapidly slipping by. There was a lift on the water as they drew near theharbor mouth; but the fort had yet to be passed, and Grahame searchedthe shore with his glasses. Little by little he made out a formlessmound, which grew more distinct. There was no light in the building, buthe knew that sentries were supposititiously keeping watch beside theguns. One or two of these were modern and no vessel was allowed to leaveport at night without official permission and a notification to thecommandant. If the steamer were seen, refusal to stop would be followedby the roar of a gun. But Grahame did not mean to stop so long as shewas not struck.
For the next few minutes he felt his nerves tingle, but the fort wasdark and silent and only the soft splash along the beach broke thestillness. The shadowy building dropped astern and he turned his glassesupon the harbor mouth. Two lights showed where the gunboat lay, and,some distance beyond them, a dim, pulsating radiance glimmered. Thismarked where the open water swell broke upon the shoals. Grahame hopedthat it would cover the _Enchantress's_ luminous wake; besides, the roarof the surf might drown the thud of engines, which carries far on a calmnight.
Jumping down from the rigging, he rapped sharply on the engine-hatch,and Walthew ran quickly up the ladder.
"Throttle her down," Grahame said. "If I knock once, stop her; if twice,give her all the steam you can."
Walthew nodded to show that he understood, for it might be dangerous touse the telegraph gong; and then he disappeared below while Grahamestood still, steadying the glasses on the deckhouse top.
With screw spinning slowly, the _Enchantress_ glided on, and thegunboat's hull grew into shape against the sky. Grahame was glad that hehad the land behind him and his vessel was small, but he beckoned Miguelto let her swing inshore. There was a shoal on that side, marked by aline of foam; but he must take the risk of going too close.
A phosphorescent flicker played about the vague blackness of thegunboat's bows; the light from the lamp on her forestay showed part ofthe deck, and then receded as she rolled. Grahame could make out ananchor hanging ready to let go and a man standing by her rail, until thelight reeled and the figure was lost in gloom. It seemed to him that the_Enchantress_ must be seen, and he wondered whether the other vessel hadher boats in the water. He suspected that she belonged to the governmentwhich Don Martin meant to overthrow, and it would be difficult to getaway from her if she had steam up. She was now abreast of him, but therewas no sign of activity on board. The _Enchantress_ crept on. Thegunboat dropped back to her quarter. Then there was a sudden harshrattle, and Grahame gasped. But a splash relieved the tension, becausehe knew it was only the ash-hoist bringing up furnace cinders.
She drew further aft and began to fade; but Grahame now saw dangerahead. The _Enchantress_ was throwing fiery spray about her bows androlling as she forged slowly through broken water. The shoal was closeahead and, taking a sounding, he found scarcely a fathom under the keel.This was enough, however, and, beckoning to Miguel, he let her go untilthe darkness astern was broken only by the gunboat's lights. Then,finding deeper water, he struck the engine-hatch.
"We're clear!" he called down in an exultant voice. "Drive her, but makeno sparks!"
The _Enchantress_ began to tremble, and a few moments later loosestanchions rattled and deck-planks shook as she leaped through the longswell with green fire blazing in the wake of her thudding screw. Grahamelaughed softly, and sat down to light a cigarette. He imagined that whenmorning came there would be several badly disappointed intriguers in theport he had left.
He thought it best, however, not to proceed directly to his destination,and it was three days later when he ran in behind a point, and anchoredin shallow water. It was daylight, but the _Enchantress's_ gray hull andslender spars would be hard to see against the land, and there was nosign of habitation on the sweep of desolate coast. A cliff rose behindthe steamer, and then for some miles the dazzling sea broke in a fringeof lace-like foam on a beach of yellow sand. On the landward side ofthis, glossy-green jungle rolled away and merged into taller forest thatwas presently lost in haze. No smoke streaked the horizon, and there wasnot a boat on the beach, but while Grahame carefully watched, twoappeared from behind a reef, and he put down his glasses with a smile.
"Our friends!" he said to Walthew. "You might get the winch ready whilewe take the hatches off."
An hour later a small party sat in the shade of the new stern awning.The boats had gone away loaded, but they had left Don Martin and threecompanions on board. Father Agustin, whose rusty black cassock jarredupon the blaze of light and color, leaned back in a canvas chair with awineglass in his olive-tinted hand.
"I'm surprised to find you in such company, Father," Grahame said tohim.
The priest's eyes twinkled.
"It is not only the rich and respected we are sent out to seek, though Ithink they need us as much as the others."
"You might find their help useful," Walthew suggested.
"True, if one could buy it! As a rule, they do not give, but sell, andthe price they ask is often high."
"Some bribes are hard to resist when they are offered in the name ofcharity; for example, hospitals founded and new churches built," Grahameinterposed. "These are things you can make good use of."
Father Agustin looked at him steadily.
"An honest man does not take a bribe, as
you, my son, should know," hesaid.
"Ah!" Grahame returned carelessly. "I did not think you had heard of--acertain affair."
Walthew gave him a surprised glance, but Father Agustin smiled.
"I hear many curious things. Besides, my companions take precautions.Sometimes they find them needed."
"I suppose if I had done what I was asked and pocketed the reward, Ishould have met with an accident shortly afterward?" Grahame suggested.
"One does not talk of such matters, senor, among trusted friends," oneof the men interposed.
"Your intelligence department seems to be well organized, but there'sground for believing the opposition's is quite as good," Grahame said,and related what had happened at their last port.
"Care will be needed after this," said Don Martin. "Now that they knowyour boat, it is fortunate we changed the landing place; but you aresafe here. This coast is low and unhealthy; the President's friends areprosperous and do not live in the swampy jungle."
"One can understand that," Grahame responded. "Your appeal is to thosewho must live how and where they can. No doubt, they suffer now and thenfor helping you."
"Ah!" exclaimed one of the Spaniards, "_how_ they suffer! If you give meleave, senores, I can tell you startling things."
They listened with quickening interest, and he kept his promise well,for there is in southern peoples, contaminated by darker blood, a veinof sensual cruelty that sometimes leads to the perpetration ofunutterable horrors. Grahame's face grew quietly stern, Walthew's hotand flushed, and Macallister clenched his hand, for the tales they heardfired their blood.
"You have told us enough," Walthew said at last. "I went into thisbusiness because I was looking for adventure and wanted to make somemoney--but I mean to see it through if it costs me all I have!" Heturned to his comrades. "How do you feel about it?"
"Much as you do," Grahame answered quietly, and Macallister put his handon Sarmiento's arm.
"I'm with ye, if ye mean to make a clean sweep o' yon brutes."
"I believe their reckoning will come, but our bargain stands," said DonMartin. "We need arms, and will pay for all you bring. Still, I am gladyour hearts are with us. It is sentiment that carries one farthest."
"How have you been getting on since we last met?" Walthew asked.
"We make progress, though there are difficulties. One must fight withthe purse as well as the sword, and the dictator's purse is longer thanours. Of late, he has been getting money and spending it with a freehand."
"Do you know where he gets it?" Grahame asked thoughtfully.
"So far, we have not found out. But it is foreign money, and he mustgive what belongs to the country in exchange."
"An easy plan!" Walthew said. "Makes the country pay for keeping him inpower. I guess you'll have to meet the bill when you get in."
"That is so," Don Martin agreed. "It forces our hand. We must get inbefore he leaves us no resources at all."
Grahame thought of Cliffe, and wondered about his business with Gomez;but he decided to say nothing of this.
"Is Castillo still at liberty?" he asked.
"He is watched, but we have been able to protect him. A man of passionand fervor who will rouse the people when the right time comes."
"But perhaps not a good plotter?"
Father Agustin gave Grahame a shrewd glance.
"We do not all possess your northern self-restraint, though one admitsits value. Senor Castillo follows a poetical ideal."
"So I imagined. Cold conviction sometimes leads one farther."
They were silent for a minute or two, and then one said:
"We have been anxious about Castillo. It is not that we doubt hissincerity."
"You doubt his staying power?"
Father Agustin made an assenting gesture.
"Our friend is ardent, but a fierce fire soon burns out. The danger isthat when warmth is needed there may be no fuel left."
"I think you should try to guard him from pressure he is unfit tostand," Grahame suggested. "One cannot always choose one's tools, but ifyou are careful he may last until his work is done."
"It is so," Father Agustin agreed. "One loves the ring of fine, truesteel, but it is fortunate that metal of softer temper has its use,though it sometimes needs skillful handling."
"He kens!" exclaimed Macallister. "Ye may rake stuff that will serve yeweel from the scrap heap o' humanity, and there's times when it's acomfort to remember that. But I'm surprised to find ye meddling withpolitics."
"I am not a politician; it is not permitted. But I may hate injustice,and there is no canon that bids me support what is evil. I came here asyour guest with other friends, and if they honor me with theirconfidence I cannot refuse; nor do I think it a grave offense to givethem a word of advice."
"Good advice may prove more dangerous to their enemies than rifles,"Grahame said.
Father Agustin mused for a few moments.
"Our friends' real task begins with their triumph," he said gravely;"for that, at best, can but mean a clearing of the ground. Man buildsslowly, but to destroy is easy, and many see no farther."
"But when the building is tottering and rotten?"
"Sometimes it may be repaired, piece by piece, but that is not yourplan." Father Agustin spread out his hands. "If you build on a soundfoundation, your new work will stand; but the edifice of the Statecannot be cemented with hatred and envy. This responsibility is yoursand not your enemies'. But one looks to the future with hope as well asdoubt."
They then discussed the landing of the next cargo, and the generalcourse of operations, but while they plotted with Spanish astutenessGrahame imagined that the quiet priest was the brain of the party.
After a time, the boats came back for another load, and when sunsetstreaked the water with a lurid glow the guests took their leave and the_Enchantress_ steamed out to sea.