"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 peons 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 telegrafia 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.



CHAPTER XXV

THE WATER-PIPE

Dick sat down and knitted his brows as he studied his companion. Don Sebastian was a Peninsular Spaniard and in consequence of a finer type than the majority of the inhabitants of Santa Brigida. Dick, who thought he could confide in him, needed help, but the matter was delicate. In the meantime, the other waited with a smile that implied that he guessed his thoughts, until Dick, leaning forward with sudden resolution, picked up the telegram, which was written in cipher.

"This is probably a warning to somebody that the vessel will not call at the ports in the advertised order," he said.

"I imagine so. You guessed the captain's plan from what you heard outside the room?"

"Not altogether, but it gave me a hint. It looks as if you recognized me when I was standing near the lifeboat."

"I did," said Don Sebastian meaningly. "I think I showed my confidence in you."

Dick nodded, because it was plain that the other had enabled him to go away without being questioned.

"Very well; I'll tell you what I know," he said, and related how he had found the man with the flute loitering about the purser's door. As he finished, Don Sebastian got up.

"You made one mistake; you should have given your note to an Englishman and not a young Creole lad. However, we must see if the steamer can be stopped."

He led the way up a staircase to the flat roof, where Dick ran to the parapet. Looking across the town, he saw in the distance a dim white light and a long smear of smoke that trailed across the glittering sea. He frowned as he watched it, for the ship was English and he felt himself responsible for the safety of all on board her. He had done his best, when there was no time to pause and think, but perhaps he had blundered. Suppose the Creole boy had lost his note or sent it to somebody ashore?

"We are too late again," Don Sebastian remarked as he sat down on the parapet. "Well, one must be philosophical. Things do not always go as one would wish."

"Why didn't you warn the captain that his plan was found out, instead of jumping into the launch?" Dick asked angrily.

Don Sebastian smiled. "Because I did not know. I saw a man steal down the ladder and thought he might be a spy, but could not tell how much he had learned. If he had learned nothing, it would have been dangerous for the captain to change his plan again and keep to the sailing list."

"That's true," Dick agreed shortly. His chin was thrust forward and his head slightly tilted back. He looked very English and aggressive as he resumed: "But I want to know what your interest in the matter is."

"Then I must tell you. To begin with, I am employed by the Government and am in the President's confidence. The country is poor and depends for its development on foreign capital, while it is important that we should have the support and friendship of Great Britain and the United States. Perhaps you know the latter's jealousy about European interference in American affairs?"

Dick nodded. "You feel you have to be careful. But how far can a country go in harboring a belligerent's agents and supplying her fighting ships, without losing its neutrality?"

"That is a difficult question," Don Sebastian replied. "I imagine the answer depends upon the temper of the interested country's diplomatic representatives; but the President means to run no risks. We cannot, for example, have it claimed that we allowed a foreign power to buy a coaling station and use it as a base for raids on merchant ships."

"Have the Germans bought the Adexe wharf?"

Don Sebastian shrugged. "Quien sabe? The principal has not a German name."

"Isn't Richter German?"

"Richter has gone. It is possible that he has done his work. His friend, however, is the head of the coaling company."

"Do you think Kenwardine was his partner? If so, it's hard to understand why he let you come to his house. He's not a fool."

The Spaniard's dark eyes twinkled. "Senor Kenwardine is a clever man, and it is not always safer to keep your antagonist in the dark when you play an intricate game. Senor Kenwardine knew it would have been a mistake to show he thought I suspected him and that he had something to conceal. We were both very frank, to a point, and now and then talked about the complications that might spring from the coaling business. Because we value our trade with England and wish to attract British capital, he knew we would not interfere with him unless we had urgent grounds, and wished to learn how far we would let him go. It must be owned that in this country official suspicion can often be disarmed."

"By a bribe? I don't think Kenwardine is rich," Dick objected.

"Then it is curious that he is able to spend so much at Adexe."

Dick frowned, for he saw what the other implied. If Kenwardine had to be supplied with money, where did it come from? It was not his business to defend the man and he must do what he could to protect British shipping, but Kenwardine was Clare's father, and he was not going to expose him until he was sure of his guilt.

"But if he was plotting anything that would get your President into trouble, he must have known he would be found out."

"Certainly. But suppose he imagined he might not be found out until he had done what he came to do? It would not matter then."

Dick said nothing. He knew he was no match for the Spaniard in subtlety, but he would not be forced into helping him. He set his lips, and Don Sebastian watched him with amusement.

"Well," said the latter, "you have my sympathy. The senorita's eyes are bright."

"I cannot have Miss Kenwardine mentioned," Dick rejoined. "She has nothing to do with the matter."

"That is agreed," Don Sebastian answered, and leaned forward as he added in a meaning tone: "You are English and your life has been threatened by men who plot against your country. I might urge that they may try again and I could protect you; but you must see what their thinking you dangerous means. Now I want your help."

Dick's face was very resolute as he looked at him. "If any harm comes to the liner, I'll do all I can. But I'll do nothing until I know. In the meantime, can you warn the captain?"

Don Sebastian bowed. "I must be satisfied with your promise. We may find the key to the telegram, and must try to get into communication with the steamer."

They went down stairs together, but the Spaniard did not leave the office with Dick, who went out alone and found Bethune and Jake waiting at the end of the line. They bantered him about his leaving them on board the ship, but although he thought Jake looked at him curiously, he told them nothing.

When work stopped on the Saturday evening, Jake and Dick went to dine with Bethune. It was getting dark when they reached a break in the dam, where a gap had been left open while a sluice was being built. A half-finished tower rose on the other side and a rope ladder hung down for the convenience of anybody who wished to cross. A large iron pipe that carried water to a turbine, however, spanned the chasm, and the sure-footed peons often used it as a bridge. This required some agility and nerve, but it saved an awkward scramble across the sluice and up the concrete.

"There's just light enough," Jake remarked, and balancing himself carefully, walked out upon the pipe.

Dick followed and getting across safely, stopped at the foot of the tower and looked down at the rough blocks and unfinished ironwork in the bottom of the gap.

"The men have been told to use the ladder, but as they seldom do so, it would be safer to run a wire across for a hand-rail," he said. "Anybody who slipped would get a dangerous fall."

They went on to Bethune's iron shack, where Stuyvesant joined them, and after dinner sat outside, talking and smoking. A carafe of Spanish wine and some glasses stood on a table close by.

"I've fired Jose's and Pancho's gangs; they've been asking for it for some time," Stuyvesant remarked. "In fact, I'd clear out most of the shovel boys if I could replace them. They've been saving money and are getting slack."

The others agreed that it might be advisable. The half-breeds from the hills, attracted by good wages, worked well when first engaged, but generally found steady labor irksome and got discontented when they had earned a sum that would enable them to enjoy a change.

"I don't think you'd get boys enough in this neighborhood," Bethune said.

"That's so. Anyhow, I'd rather hire a less sophisticated crowd; the half-civilized Meztiso is worse than the other sort, but I don't see why we shouldn't look for some further along the coast. Do you feel like taking the launch, Brandon, and trying what you can do?"

"I'd enjoy the trip," Dick answered with some hesitation. "But I'd probably have to go beyond Coronal, and it might take a week."

"That won't matter; stay as long as it's necessary," Stuyvesant said, for he had noticed a slackness in Dick's movements and his tired look. "Things are going pretty well just now, and you have stuck close to your work. The change will brace you up. Anyhow, I want fresh boys and Bethune's needed here, but you can take Jake along if you want company."

Jake declared that he would go, but Dick agreed with reluctance. He felt jaded and depressed, for the double strain he had borne was beginning to tell. His work, carried on in scorching heat, demanded continuous effort, and when it stopped at night he had private troubles to grapple with. Though he had been half-prepared for Clare's refusal, it had hit him hard, and he could find no means of exposing Kenwardine's plots without involving her in his ruin. It would be a relief to get away, but he might be needed at Santa Brigida.

Bethune began to talk about the alterations a contractor wished to make, and by and by there was a patter of feet and a hum of voices in the dark. The voices grew louder and sounded angry as the steps approached the house, and Stuyvesant pushed back his chair.

"It's Jose's or Pancho's breeds come to claim that their time is wrong. I suppose one couldn't expect that kind of crowd to understand figures, but although Francois' accounts are seldom very plain, he's not a grafter."

Then a native servant entered hurriedly.

"They all come, senor," he announced. "Pig tief say Fransoy rob him and he go casser office window." He turned and waved his hand threateningly as a big man in ragged white clothes came into the light. "Fuera, puerco ladron!"

The man took off a large palm-leaf hat and flourished it with ironical courtesy.

"Here is gran escandolo, senores. La belle chose, verdad! Me I have trent' dollar; the grand tief me pay——"

Stuyvesant signed to the servant. "Take them round to the back corral; we can't have them on the veranda." Then he turned to Dick. "You and Bethune must convince them that the time-sheets are right; you know more about the thing than I do. Haven't you been helping Francois, Fuller?"

"I'm not a linguist," Jake answered with a grin. "When they talk French and Spanish at once it knocks me right off my height, as Francois sometimes declares."

They all went round to the back of the house, where Bethune and Dick argued with the men. The latter had been dismissed and while ready to go wanted a grievance, though some honestly failed to understand the deductions from their wages. They had drawn small sums in advance, taken goods out of store, and laid off now and then on an unusually hot day, but the amount charged against them was larger than they thought. For all that, Bethune using patience and firmness pacified them, and after a time they went away satisfied while the others returned to the veranda.

"Arguing in languages you don't know well is thirsty work, and we'd better have a drink," Bethune remarked.

He pushed the carafe across the table, but Dick picked up his glass, which he had left about half full. He was hot and it was a light Spanish wine that one could drink freely, but when he had tasted it he emptied what was left over the veranda rails.

Bethune looked surprised, but laughed. "The wine isn't very good, but the others seem able to stand for it. I once laid out a mine ditch in a neighborhood where you'd have wanted some courage to throw away a drink the boys had given you."

"It was very bad manners," Dick answered awkwardly. "Still, I didn't like the taste——"

He stopped, noticing that Jake gave him a keen glance, but Stuyvesant filled his glass and drank.

"What's the matter with the wine?" he asked.

Dick hesitated. He wanted to let the matter drop, but he had treated Bethune rudely and saw that the others were curious.

"It didn't taste as it did when I left it. Of course this may have been imagination."

"But you don't think so?" Stuyvesant rejoined. "In fact, you suspect the wine was doped after we went out?"

"No," said Dick with a puzzled frown; "I imagine any doping stuff would make it sour. The curious thing is that it tasted better than usual but stronger."

Stuyvesant picked up the glass and smelt it, for a little of the liquor remained in the bottom.

"It's a pity you threw it out, because there's a scent mine hasn't got. Like bad brandy or what the Spaniards call madre de vino and use for bringing light wine up to strength."

Then Bethune took the glass from him and drained the last drops. "I think it is madre de vino. Pretty heady stuff and that glass would hold a lot."

Stuyvesant nodded, for it was not a wineglass but a small tumbler.

"Doping's not an unusual trick, but I can't see why anybody should want to make Brandon drunk."

"It isn't very plain and I may have made a fuss about nothing," Dick replied, and began to talk about something else with Jake's support.

The others indulged them, and after a time the party broke up. The moon had risen when Dick and Jake walked back along the dam, but the latter stopped when they reached the gap.

"We'll climb down and cross by the sluice instead of the pipe," he said.

"Why?" Dick asked. "The light is better than when we came."

Jake gave him a curious look. "Your nerve's pretty good, but do you want to defy your enemies and show them you have found out their trick?"

"But I haven't found it out; that is, I don't know the object of it yet."

"Well," said Jake rather grimly, "what do you think would happen if a drunken man tried to walk along that pipe?"

Then a light dawned on Dick and he sat down, feeling limp. He was abstemious, and a large dose of strong spirit would, no doubt, have unsteadied him. His companions would notice this, but with the obstinacy that often marks a half-drunk man he would probably have insisted on trying to cross the pipe. Then a slip or hesitation would have precipitated him upon the unfinished ironwork below, and since an obvious explanation of his fall had been supplied, nobody's suspicions would have been aroused. The subtlety of the plot was unnerving. Somebody who knew all about him had chosen the moment well.

"It's so devilishly clever!" he said with hoarse anger after a moment or two.

Jake nodded. "They're smart. They knew the boys were coming to make a row and Stuyvesant wouldn't have them on the veranda. Then the wine was on the table, and anybody who'd noticed where we sat could tell your glass. It would have been easy to creep up to the shack before the moon rose."

"Who are they?"

"If I knew, I could tell you what to do about it, but I don't. It's possible there was only one man, but if so, he's dangerous. Anyhow, it's obvious that Kenwardine has no part in the matter."

"He's not in this," Dick agreed. "Have you a cigarette? I think I'd like a smoke. It doesn't follow that I'd have been killed, if I had fallen."

"Then you'd certainly have got hurt enough to keep you quiet for some time, which would probably satisfy the other fellow. But I don't think we'll stop here talking; there may be somebody about."

They climbed down by the foot of the tower and crossing the sluice went up the ladder. When they reached their shack Dick sat down and lighted the cigarette Jake had given him, but he said nothing and his face was sternly set. Soon afterwards he went to bed.



CHAPTER XXVI

THE LINER'S FATE

Next morning Dick reviewed the situation as he ate his breakfast in the fresh coolness before the sun got up. He had got a shock, but he was young and soon recovered. His anger against the unknown plotter remained fierce, but this was, in a sense, a private grievance, by which he must not be unduly influenced. It was plain that he was thought dangerous, which showed that he was following the right clue, and he had determined that the raiding of ships belonging to Britain or her allies must be stopped. Since he had gone to the representative of British authority and had been rebuffed, he meant to get Fuller to see if American suspicions could be easier aroused, but he must first make sure of his ground. In the meantime, Don Sebastian had asked his help and he had given a conditional promise.

Dick decided that he had taken the proper course. Don Sebastian held Kenwardine accountable and meant to expose him. This was painful to contemplate for Clare's sake, but Dick admitted that he could not shield Kenwardine at his country's expense. Still, the matter was horribly complicated. If Kenwardine was ruined or imprisoned, a serious obstacle in Dick's way would be removed, but it was unthinkable that this should be allowed to count when Clare must suffer. Besides, she might come to hate him if she learned that he was responsible for her father's troubles. But he would make the liner's fate a test. If the vessel arrived safe, Kenwardine should go free until his guilt was certain; if she were sunk or chased, he would help Don Sebastian in every way he could.

For three or four days he heard nothing about her, and then, one hot morning, when Stuyvesant and Bethune stood at the foot of the tower by the sluice examining some plans, Jake crossed the pipe with a newspaper in his hand.

"The Diario has just arrived," he said. "I haven't tried to read it yet, but the liner has been attacked."

Dick, who was superintending the building of the sluice, hastily scrambled up the bank, and Stuyvesant, taking the newspaper, sat down in the shade of the tower. He knew more Castilian than the others, who gathered round him as he translated.

The liner, the account stated, had the coast in sight shortly before dark and was steaming along it when a large, black funnel steamer appeared from behind a point. The captain at once swung his vessel round and the stranger fired a shot, of which he took no notice. It was blowing fresh, the light would soon fade, and there was a group of reefs, which he knew well, not far away. The raider gained a little during the next hour and fired several shots. Two of the shells burst on board, killing a seaman and wounding some passengers, but the captain held on. When it was getting dark the reefs lay close ahead, with the sea breaking heavily on their outer edge, but he steamed boldly for an intricate, unmarked channel between them and the land. In altering his course, he exposed the vessel's broadside to the enemy and a shot smashed the pilot-house, but they steered her in with the hand-gear. The pursuer then sheered off, but it got very dark and the vessel grounded in a position where the reef gave some shelter.

Nothing could be done until morning, but as day broke the raider reappeared and had fired a shot across the reef when a gunboat belonging to the state in whose territorial waters the steamer lay came upon the scene. She steamed towards the raider, which made off at full speed. Then the gunboat took the liner's passengers on board, and it was hoped that the vessel could be re-floated.

"A clear story, told by a French or Spanish sailor who'd taken a passage on the ship," Bethune remarked. "It certainly didn't come from one of the British crew."

"Why?" Jake asked.

Bethune smiled. "A seaman who tells the truth about anything startling that happens on board a passenger boat gets fired. The convention is to wrap the thing in mystery, if it can't be denied. Besides, the ability to take what you might call a quick, bird's-eye view isn't a British gift; an Englishman would have concentrated on some particular point. Anyhow, I can't see how the boat came to be where she was at the time mentioned." He turned to Dick and asked: "Do you know, Brandon?"

"No," said Dick, shortly, "not altogether."

"Well," resumed Bethune, "I've seen the antiquated gunboat that came to the rescue, and it's amusing to think of her steaming up to the big auxiliary cruiser. It's doubtful if they've got ammunition that would go off in their footy little guns, though I expect the gang of half-breed cut-throats would put up a good fight. They have pluck enough, and the country they belong to can stand upon her dignity."

"She knows where to look for support," Stuyvesant remarked. "If the other party goes much farther, she'll get a sharp snub up. What's your idea of the situation?"

"Something like yours. We can't allow the black eagle to find an eyrie in this part of the world, but just now our Western bird's talons are blunt. She hasn't been rending the innocents like the other, but one or two of our former leaders are anxious to put her into fighting trim, and I dare say something of the kind will be done. However, Brandon hasn't taken much part in this conversation. I guess he's thinking about his work!"

Dick, who had been sitting quiet with a thoughtful face, got up.

"I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes, Stuyvesant."

"Very well," said the other, who turned to Bethune and Jake. "I don't want to play the domineering boss, but we're not paid to sit here and fix up international politics."

They went away and Stuyvesant looked at Dick who said, "I ought to start in the launch to-morrow to get the laborers you want, but I can't go."

"Why?"

Dick hesitated. "The fact is I've something else to do."

"Ah!" said Stuyvesant. "I think the understanding was that Fuller bought all your time."

"He did. I'm sorry, but——"

"But if I insist on your going down the coast, you'll break your agreement."

"Yes," said Dick with embarrassment. "It comes to that."

Stuyvesant looked hard at him. "You must recognize that this is a pretty good job, and you're not likely to get another without Fuller's recommendation. Then I understand you were up against it badly when he first got hold of you. You're young and ought to be ambitious, and you have your chance to make your mark right here."

"It's all true," Dick answered doggedly. "Still, I can't go."

"Then it must be something very important that makes you willing to throw up your job."

Dick did not answer and, to his surprise, Stuyvesant smiled as he resumed: "It's England first, with you?"

"How did you guess? How much do you know?" Dick asked sharply.

"I don't know very much. Your throwing out the wine gave me a hint, because it was obvious that somebody had been getting after you before, and there were other matters. But you're rather young and I suspect you're up against a big thing."

"I'm afraid I can't tell you about it yet, if that is what you mean."

"Very well. Stay here, as usual, if you like, or if you want a week off, take it. I'll find a suitable reason for not sending you in the launch."

"Thanks!" said Dick, with keen gratitude, and Stuyvesant, who nodded pleasantly, went away.

Dick sent a note to Don Sebastian by a messenger he could trust, and soon after dark met him, as he appointed, at a wine-shop on the outskirts of the town, where they were shown into a small back room.

"I imagine you are now satisfied," the Spaniard said. "The liner has been chased and people on board her have been killed."

"I'm ready to do anything that will prevent another raid. To some extent, perhaps, I'm responsible for what has happened; I might have stopped and seen the mate or captain, but then I'd have lost the man I was after. What do you think became of my note?"

Don Sebastian looked thoughtful. "The boy may have lost it or shown it to his comrades; they carry a few Spanish stewards for the sake of the foreign passengers, and we both carelessly took too much for granted. We followed the spy we saw without reflecting that there might be another on board. However, this is not important now."

"It isn't. But what do you mean to do with Kenwardine?"

"You have no cause for troubling yourself on his account."

"That's true, in a way," Dick answered, coloring, though his tone was resolute. "He once did me a serious injury, but I don't want him hurt. I mean to stop his plotting if I can, but I'm going no further, whether it's my duty or not."

The Spaniard made a sign of comprehension. "Then we need not quarrel about Kenwardine. In fact, the President does not want to arrest him; our policy is to avoid complications and it would satisfy us if he could be forced to leave the country and give up the coaling station."

"How will you force him?"

"He has been getting letters from Kingston; ordinary, friendly letters from a gentleman whose business seems to be coaling ships. For all that, there is more in them than meets the uninstructed eye."

"Have you read his replies?"

Don Sebastian shrugged. "What do you expect? They do not tell us much, but it looks as if Senor Kenwardine means to visit Kingston soon."

"But it's in Jamaica; British territory."

"Just so," said the Spaniard, smiling. "Senor Kenwardine is a bold and clever man. His going to Kingston would have thrown us off the scent if we had not known as much as we do; but it would have been dangerous had he tried to hide it and we had found it out. You see how luck favors us?"

"What is your plan?"

"We will follow Kenwardine. He will be more or less at our mercy on British soil, and, if it seems needful, there is a charge you can bring against him. He stole some army papers."

Dick started. "How did you hear of that?"

"Clever men are sometimes incautious, and he once spoke about it to his daughter," Don Sebastian answered with a shrug. "Our antagonists are not the only people who have capable spies."

The intrigue and trickery he had become entangled in inspired Dick with disgust, but he admitted that one could not be fastidious in a fight with a man like his antagonist.

"Very well," he said, frowning, "I'll go; but it must be understood that when he's beaten you won't decide what's to be done with the man without consulting me."

Don Sebastian bowed. "It is agreed. One can trust you to do nothing that would injure your country. But we have some arrangements to make."

Shortly afterwards Dick left the wine-shop, and returning to the camp went to see Stuyvesant.

"I want to go away in a few days, perhaps for a fortnight, but I'd like it understood that I'd been sent down the coast in the launch," he said. "As a matter of fact, I mean to start in her."

"Certainly. Arrange the thing as you like," Stuyvesant agreed. Then he looked at Dick with a twinkle. "You deserve a lay-off and I hope you'll enjoy it."

Dick thanked him and went back to his shack, where he found Jake on the verandah.

"I may go with the launch, after all, but not to Coronal," he remarked.

"Ah!" said Jake, with some dryness. "Then you had better take me; anyhow, I'm coming."

"I'd much sooner you didn't."

"That doesn't count," Jake replied. "You're getting after somebody, and if you leave me behind, I'll give the plot away. It's easy to send a rumor round the camp."

Dick reflected. He saw that Jake meant to come and knew he could be obstinate. Besides, the lad was something of a seaman and would be useful on board the launch, because Dick did not mean to join the steamer Kenwardine traveled by, but to catch another at a port some distance off.

"Well," he said, "I suppose I must give in."

"You've got to," Jake rejoined, and added in a meaning tone: "You may need a witness if you're after Kenwardine, and I want to be about to see fair play."

"Then you trust the fellow yet?"

"I don't know," Jake answered thoughtfully. "At first, I thought Kenwardine great, and I like him now. He certainly has charm and you can't believe much against him when he's with you; but it's somehow different at a distance. Still, he knew nothing about the attacks on you. I saw that when I told him about them."

"You told him!" Dick exclaimed.

"I did. Perhaps it might have been wise——"

Jake stopped, for he heard a faint rustle, as if a bush had been shaken, and Dick looked up. The moon had not yet risen, thin mist drifted out of the jungle, and it was very dark. There was some brush in front of the building and a belt of tall grass and reeds grew farther back. Without moving the upper part of his body, he put his foot under the table at which they sat and kicked Jake's leg.

"What was that about Adexe?" he asked in a clear voice, and listened hard.

He heard nothing then, for Jake took the hint and began to talk about the coaling station, but when the lad stopped there was another rustle, very faint but nearer.

Next moment a pistol shot rang out and a puff of acrid smoke drifted into the veranda. Then the brushwood crackled, as if a man had violently plunged through it, and Jake sprang to his feet.

"Come on and bring the lamp!" he shouted, running down the steps.

Dick followed, but left the lamp alone. He did not know who had fired the shot and it might be imprudent to make himself conspicuous. Jake, who was a few yards in front, boldly took a narrow path through the brush, which rose to their shoulders. The darkness was thickened by the mist, but after a moment or two they heard somebody coming to meet them. It could hardly be an enemy, because the man wore boots and his tread was quick and firm. Dick noted this with some relief, but thought it wise to take precautions.

"Hold on, Jake," he said and raised his voice: "Who's that?"

"Payne," answered the other, and they waited until he came up.

"Now," said Jake rather sharply, "what was the shooting about?"

"There was a breed hanging round in the bushes and when he tried to creep up to the veranda I plugged him."

"Then where is he?"

"That's what I don't know," Payne answered apologetically. "I hit him sure, but it looks as if he'd got away."

"It looks as if you'd missed. Where did you shoot from?"

Payne beckoned them to follow and presently stopped beside the heap of ironwork a little to one side of the shack. The lighted veranda was in full view of the spot, but there was tall brushwood close by and behind this the grass.

"I was here," Payne explained. "Heard something move once or twice, and at last the fellow showed between me and the light. When I saw he was making for the veranda I put up my gun. Knew I had the bead on him when I pulled her off."

"Then show us where he was."

Payne led them forward until they reached a spot where the brush was broken and bent, and Jake, stooping down, struck a match.

"I guess he's right. Look at this," he said with shrinking in his voice.

The others saw a red stain on the back of his hand and crimson splashes on the grass. Then Dick took the match and put it out.

"The fellow must be found. I'll get two or three of the boys I think we can trust and we'll begin the search at once."

He left them and returned presently with the men and two lanterns, but before they set off he asked Payne: "Could you hear what we said on the veranda?"

"No. I could tell you were talking, but that was all. Once you kind of raised your voice and I guess the fellow in front heard something, for it was then he got up and tried to crawl close in."

"Just so," Dick agreed and looked at Jake as one of the men lighted a lantern. "He was nearer us than Payne. I thought Adexe would draw him."

They searched the belt of grass and the edge of the jungle, since, as there were venomous snakes about, it did not seem likely that the fugitive would venture far into the thick, steamy gloom. Then they made a circuit of the camp, stopping wherever a mound of rubbish offered a hiding-place, but the search proved useless until they reached the head of the track. Then an explanation of the man's escape was supplied, for the hand-car, which had stood there an hour ago, had gone. A few strokes of the crank would start it, after which it would run down the incline.

"I guess that's how he went," said Payne.

Dick nodded. The car would travel smoothly if its speed was controlled, but it would make some noise and he could not remember having heard anything. The peons, however, frequently used the car when they visited their comrades at the mixing sheds, and he supposed the rattle of wheels had grown so familiar that he had not noticed it.

"Send the boys away; there's nothing more to be done," he said.

They turned back towards the shack, and after a few minutes Jake remarked: "It will be a relief when this business is over. My nerves are getting ragged."



CHAPTER XXVII

THE SILVER CLASP

It was about eleven o'clock on a hot morning and Kenwardine, who had adopted native customs, was leisurely getting his breakfast in the patio. Two or three letters lay among the fruit and wine, but he did not mean to open them yet. He was something of a sybarite and the letters might blunt his enjoyment of the well-served meal. Clare, who had not eaten much, sat opposite, watching him. His pose as he leaned back with a wineglass in his hand was negligently graceful, and his white clothes, drawn in at the waist by a black silk sash, showed his well-knit figure. There were touches of gray in his hair and wrinkles round his eyes, but in spite of this he had a look of careless youth. Clare, however, thought she noticed a hint of preoccupation that she knew and disliked.

Presently Kenwardine picked out an envelope with a British stamp from among the rest and turned it over before inserting a knife behind the flap, which yielded easily, as if the gum had lost its strength. Then he took out the letter and smiled with ironical amusement. If it had been read by any unauthorized person before it reached him, the reader would have been much misled, but it told him what he wanted to know. There was one word an Englishman or American would not have used, though a Teuton might have done so, but Kenwardine thought a Spaniard would not notice this, even if he knew English well. The other letters were not important, and he glanced at his daughter.

Clare was not wearing well. She had lost her color and got thin. The climate was enervating, and Englishwomen who stayed in the country long felt it more than men, but this did not quite account for her jaded look.

"I am afraid you are feeling the hot weather, and perhaps you have been indoors too much," he said. "I must try to take you about more when I come back."

"Then you are going away! Where to?"

Kenwardine would have preferred to hide his destination, but since this would be difficult it seemed safer not to try and there was no reason why his household should not know.

"To Jamaica. I have some business in Kingston, but it won't keep me long."

"Can you take me?"

"I think not," said Kenwardine, who knew his visit would be attended by some risk. "For one thing, I'll be occupied all the time, and as I must get back as soon as possible, may have to travel by uncomfortable boats. You will be safe with Lucille."

"Oh, yes," Clare agreed with languid resignation. "Still, I would have liked a change."

Kenwardine showed no sign of yielding and she said nothing more. She had chosen to live with him, and although she had not known all that the choice implied, must obey his wishes. For all that, she longed to get away. It had cost her more than she thought to refuse Dick, and she felt that something mysterious and disturbing was going on. Kenwardine's carelessness had not deceived her; she had watched him when he was off his guard and knew that he was anxious.

"You don't like Santa Brigida?" he suggested. "Well, if things go as I hope, I may soon be able to sell out my business interests and leave the country. Would that please you?"

Clare's eyes sparkled with satisfaction. Now there was a prospect of its ending, she could allow herself to admit how repugnant the life she led had grown. She had hated the gambling, and although this had stopped, the mystery and hidden intrigue that followed it were worse. If her father gave it all up, they need no longer be outcasts, and she could live as an English girl ought to do. Besides, it would be easier to forget Dick Brandon when she went away.

"Would we go back to England?" she asked eagerly.

"I hardly think that would be possible," Kenwardine replied. "We might, however, fix upon one of the quieter cities near the Atlantic coast of America. I know two or three that are not too big and are rather old-fashioned, with something of the charm of the Colonial days, where I think you might find friends that would suit your fastidious taste."

Clare tried to look content. Of late, she had longed for the peaceful, well-ordered life of the English country towns, but it seemed there was some reason they could not go home.

"Any place would be better than Santa Brigida," she said. "But I must leave you to your letters. I am going out to buy some things."

The sun was hot when she left the patio, but there was a strip of shade on one side of the street and she kept close to the wall, until turning a corner, she entered a blaze of light. The glare from the pavement and white houses was dazzling and she stopped awkwardly, just in time to avoid collision with a man. He stood still and she looked down as she saw that it was Dick and noted the satisfaction in his eyes.

"I'm afraid I wasn't keeping a very good lookout," he said.

"You seemed to be in a hurry," Clare rejoined, half hoping he would go on; but as he did not, she resumed: "However, you generally give one the impression of having something important to do."

Dick laughed. "That's wrong just now, because I'm killing time. I've an hour to wait before the launch is ready to go to sea."

"Then you are sailing somewhere along the coast," said Clare, who moved forward, and Dick taking her permission for granted, turned and walked by her side.

"Yes. I left Jake at the mole, putting provisions on board."

"It looks as if you would be away some time," Clare remarked carelessly.

Dick thought she was not interested and felt relieved. It had been announced at the irrigation camp that he was going to Coronal to engage workmen, in order that the report might reach Kenwardine. He had now an opportunity of sending the latter misleading news, but he could not make use of Clare in this way.

"I expect so, but can't tell yet when we will be back," he said.

"Well," said Clare, "I shall feel that I am left alone. My father is going to Kingston and doesn't know when he will return. Then you and Mr. Fuller——"

She stopped with a touch of embarrassment, wondering whether she had said too much, but Dick looked at her gravely.

"Then you will miss us?"

"Yes," she admitted with a blush. "I suppose I shall, in a sense. After all, I really know nobody in Santa Brigida; that is, nobody I like. Of course, we haven't seen either of you often, but then——"

"You liked to feel we were within call if we were wanted? Well, I wish I could put off our trip, but I'm afraid it's impossible now."

"That would be absurd," Clare answered, smiling, and they went on in silence for the next few minutes.

She felt that she had shown her feelings with raw candor, and the worst was that Dick was right. Though he thought she had robbed him, and was somehow her father's enemy, she did like to know he was near. Then there had been something curious in his tone and he had asked her nothing about her father's voyage. Indeed, it looked as if he meant to avoid the subject, although politeness demanded some remark.

"I am going shopping at the Almacen Morales," she said by and by, giving him an excuse to leave her if he wished.

"Then, if you don't mind, I'll come too. It will be out of this blazing sun, and there are a few things Jake told me to get."

It was a relief to enter the big, cool, general store, but when Clare went to the dry-goods counter Dick turned aside to make his purchases. After this, he strolled about, examining specimens of native feather-work, and was presently seized by an inspiration as he stopped beside some Spanish lace. Clare ought to wear fine lace. The intricate, gauzy web would harmonize with her delicate beauty, but the trouble was that he was no judge of the material. A little farther on, a case of silver filigree caught his eye and he turned over some of the articles. This was work he knew more about, and it was almost as light and fine as the lace. The design was good and marked by a fantastic Eastern grace, for it had come from the Canaries and the Moors had taught the Spaniards how to make it long ago. After some deliberation, Dick chose a belt-clasp in a box by itself, and the girl who had been waiting on him called a clerk.

"You have a good eye, senor," the man remarked. "The clasp was meant for a sample and not for sale."

"Making things is my business and I know when they're made well," Dick answered modestly. "Anyhow, I want the clasp."

The clerk said they would let him have it because he sometimes bought supplies for the camp, and Dick put the case in his pocket. Then he waited until Clare was ready and left the store with her. He had bought the clasp on an impulse, but now feared that she might not accept his gift. After a time, he took it out.

"This caught my eye and I thought you might wear it," he said with diffidence.

Clare took the open case, for at first the beauty of the pattern seized her attention. Then she hesitated and turned to him with some color in her face.

"It is very pretty, but why do you want to give it to me?"

"To begin with, the thing has an airy lightness that ought to suit you. Then you took care of me and we were very good friends when I was ill. I'd like to feel I'd given you something that might remind you of this. Besides, you see, I'm going away——"

"But you are coming back."

"Yes; but things might happen in the meantime."

"What kind of things?" Clare asked in vague alarm.

"I don't know," Dick said awkwardly. "Still, disturbing things do happen. Anyhow won't you take the clasp?"

Clare stood irresolute with the case in her hand. It was strange, and to some extent embarrassing that Dick should insist upon making her the present. He had humiliated her and it was impossible that she could marry him, but there was an appeal in his eyes that was hard to deny. Besides, the clasp was beautiful and he had shown nice taste in choosing it for her.

"Very well," she said gently. "I will keep it and wear it now and then."

Dick made a sign of gratitude and they went on, but Clare stopped at the next corner and held out her hand.

"I must not take you any farther," she said firmly. "I wish you a good voyage."

She went into a shop and Dick turned back to the harbor where he boarded the launch. The boat was loaded deep with coal, the fireman was busy, and soon after the provisions Dick had bought arrived, steam was up. He took the helm, the engine began to throb, and they glided through the cool shadow along the mole. When they met the smooth swell at the harbor mouth the sea blazed with reflected light, and Dick was glad to fix his eyes upon the little compass in the shade of the awning astern. The boat lurched away across the long undulations, with the foam curling up about her bow and rising aft in a white following wave.

"I thought of leaving the last few bags of coal," Jake remarked. "There's not much life in her and we take some chances of being washed off if she meets a breaking sea."

"It's a long run and we'll soon burn down the coal, particularly as we'll have to drive her hard to catch the Danish boat," Dick replied. "If we can do that, we'll get Kenwardine's steamer at her last port of call. It's lucky she isn't going direct to Kingston."

"You have cut things rather fine, but I suppose you worked it out from the sailing lists. The worst is that following the coast like this takes us off our course."

Dick nodded. After making some calculations with Don Sebastian's help, he had found it would be possible to catch a small Danish steamer that would take them to a port at which Kenwardine's boat would arrive shortly afterwards. But since it had been given out that he was going to Coronal, he must keep near the coast until he passed Adexe. This was necessary, because Kenwardine would not risk a visit to Jamaica, which was British territory, if he thought he was being followed.

"We'll make it all right if the weather keeps fine," he answered.

They passed Adexe in the afternoon and boldly turned seawards across a wide bay. At sunset the coast showed faintly in the distance, obscured by the evening mist, and the land breeze began to blow. It was hot and filled with strange, sour and spicy smells, and stirred the sea into short, white ripples that rapidly got larger. They washed across the boat's half-immersed stern and now and then splashed on board at her waist; but Dick kept the engine going full speed and sat at the tiller with his eyes fixed upon the compass. It was not easy to steer by, because the lurching boat was short and the card span in erratic jerks when she began to yaw about, swerving off her course as she rose with the seas.

The night got very dark, for the land-breeze brought off a haze, but the engine lamp and glow from the furnace door threw an elusive glimmer about the craft. White sea-crests chased and caught her up, and rolling forward broke between the funnel and the bows. Water splashed on board, the engine hissed as the spray fell on it, and the floorings got wet. One could see the foam on deck wash about the headledge forward as the bows went up with a sluggishness that was the consequence of carrying an extra load of coal.

The fireman could not steer by compass, and after a time Jake took the helm from his tired companion. Dick lay down under the side deck, from which showers of brine poured close beside his head, but did not go to sleep. He was thinking of Clare and what he must do when he met her father. It was important that they should catch Kenwardine's boat, since he must not be allowed to land and finish his business before they arrived. In the meanwhile, he listened to the measured clank of the engine, which quickened when the top blade of the screw swung out. So long as she did not lift the others she would travel well, but by and by he heard a splash in the crank-pit and called to the fireman, who started the pump.

Day broke in a blaze of fiery splendor, and the dripping launch dried. The coast was near, the sea got smooth, and the tired men were glad of the heat of the red sun. By and by the breeze died away, and the long swell heaved in a glassy calm, glittering with silver and vivid blue. When their clothes were dry they loosed and spread the awning, and a pungent smell of olive oil and coffee floated about the boat as the fireman cooked breakfast. After they had eaten, Dick moved a bag or two of coal to trim the craft and sounded the tank, because a high-pressure engine uses a large quantity of fresh water. Then he unrolled a chart and measured the distance to their port while Jake looked over his shoulder.

"We ought to be in time," he said. "The advertisement merely stated that the boat would sail to-day, but as she didn't leave the last port until yesterday and she'd have some cargo to ship, it's unlikely that she'll clear before noon."

"It might have been safer to telegraph, booking two berths. These little boats don't often miss a chance of picking up a few dollars, and the skipper would have waited."

"I thought about that; but the telegram would have shown what we were after if Kenwardine has bribed somebody in the office, which is possible."

"You seem convinced he has had an important part in these attacks on merchant ships," Jake said thoughtfully.

"It's hard to doubt."

"The man's by way of being a friend of mine and took you into his house when you were in some danger of bleeding to death. I'm not sure that he's guilty, and now I've come with you, am going to see he gets fair play; but if you can prove your charge, you may do what you like with him. I think we'll let it go at that."

Dick nodded. "In the first place, we must make our port, and it's lucky we'll have smooth water until the sea breeze gets up."

Telling the fireman he could go to sleep, he moved about the engine with an oilcan and afterwards cleaned the fire. Then he lay on the counter with his hand on the helm while the launch sped across the glassy sea, leaving a long wake astern. The high coast ahead got clearer, but after a time dark-blue lines began to streak the glistening water and puffs of wind fanned the men's faces. The puffs were gratefully fresh and the heat felt intolerable when they passed, but by and by they settled into a steady draught and the dark lines joined, until the sea was all a glowing ultramarine. Then small ripples splashed about the launch and Dick glanced ahead.

"She's steaming well," he said as he listened to the steady snort of the exhaust and humming of the cranks. "It's lucky, because there's some weight in the wind."

Some hours later, when the sea was flecked with white, they closed with a strip of gray-green forest that seemed to run out into the water. The launch rolled and lurched as the foam-tipped combers hove her up and the awning flapped savagely in the whistling breeze. Away on the horizon, there was a dingy trail of smoke. Presently Jake stood up on deck, and watched the masts that rose above the fringe of trees.

"There's a black-top funnel like the Danish boat's, and a flag with red and white on it, but it's hanging limp. They don't feel the breeze inside."

He jumped down as Dick changed his course, and they passed a spit of surf-washed sand, rounded the last clump of trees, and opened up the harbor mouth. The sunshine fell upon a glaring white and yellow town, and oily water glittered between the wharf and the dark hulls of anchored vessels, but Dick suddenly set his lips. He knew the Danish boat, and she was not there.

"She's gone," said Jake with a hint of relief in his voice. "That was her smoke on the skyline."



CHAPTER XXVIII

ROUGH WATER

As soon as they entered port, Dick and Jake went to the office of a Spanish shipbroker, who offered them his polite sympathy.

"We had very little cargo here, and when he heard there was some dyewood at San Ignacio the captain steamed off again," he explained.

"What sort of a port is San Ignacio, and how far is it?" Dick asked.

"It is an aldea on the shore of a lagoon, with a wharf that small boats can reach, about forty miles from here."

"Then they take the dyewood off in boats? If there is much of the stuff, it would be a long job."

"That is so, senor. The boats can only reach the wharf when the tide is high. At other times, the cargo must be carried down through the mud."

"Have you a large chart of this coast?"

The broker brought a chart and Dick studied it for some minutes, making notes in his pocket-book. Then he looked up.

"Where can I get fresh water?"

The broker asked how much he wanted and after taking some paper money gave him a ticket.

"There is a pipe on the wharf and when the peon sees the receipt he will fill your tanks."

Dick thanked him and going out with Jake found their fireman asleep in a wine-shop. They had some trouble in wakening the man and after sending him off to get the water, ordered some wine. The room was dirty and filled with flies, but the lattice shutters kept out the heat and they found the shadow pleasant after the glare outside. Jake dropped into a cane chair with a sigh of content. He felt cramped and stiff after the long journey in the narrow cockpit of the plunging launch, and was sensible of an enjoyable lassitude. It would be delightful to lounge about in the shade after refreshing himself with two or three cool drinks, but he had misgivings that this was not what Dick meant to do. When he had drained a large glass of light, sweet wine, he felt peacefully at ease, and resting his head on the chair-back closed his eyes. After this he was conscious of nothing until Dick said: "It's not worth while to go to sleep."

"Not worth while?" Jake grumbled drowsily. "I was awake all last night. It's quiet and cool here and I can't stand for being broiled outside."

"I'm afraid you'll have to. We start as soon as Maccario has filled the tank."

Jake roused himself with a jerk. Dick leaned forward wearily with his elbow on the table, but he looked resolute.

"Then you haven't let up yet? You're going on to the lagoon?"

"Certainly," said Dick. "The Danish boat has an hour's start, but she only steams eight or nine knots and it will take some time to load her cargo."

"But we can't drive the launch hard. The breeze is knocking up the sea."

"We'll try," Dick answered, and Jake growled in protest. His dream of rest and sleep, and perhaps some mildly exciting adventure when the citizens came out in the cool of the evening, had been rudely banished. Moreover, he had had another reason for being philosophical when he thought his comrade baulked.

"It's a fool trick. She won't make it if the sea gets bad."

Dick smiled dryly. "We can turn back if we find her getting swamped. It looks as if you were not very anxious to overtake Kenwardine."

"I'm not," Jake admitted. "If you're determined to go, I'm coming, but I'd be glad of a good excuse for letting the matter drop."

Somewhat to his surprise, Dick gave him a sympathetic nod. "I know; I've felt like that, but the thing can't be dropped. It's a hateful job, but it must be finished now."

"Very well," Jake answered, getting up. "If we must go, the sooner we start the better."

The launch looked very small and dirty when they looked down on her from the wharf, and Jake noted how the surf broke upon the end of the sheltering point. Its deep throbbing roar warned him what they might expect when they reached open water, but he went down the steps and helped Dick to tighten some bearing brasses, after which a peon threw down their ropes and the screw began to rattle. With a few puffs of steam from her funnel the launch moved away and presently met the broken swell at the harbor mouth. Then her easy motion changed to a drunken lurch and Jake gazed with misgivings at the white-topped seas ahead.

She went through the first comber's crest with her forefoot in the air and the foam washing deep along the tilted deck, while the counter vanished in a white upheaval. Then it swung up in turn, and frames and planking shook as the engine ran away. This happened at short intervals as she fought her way to windward in erratic jerks, while showers of spray and cinders blew aft into the face of her crew.

Dick drove her out until the sea got longer and more regular, when he turned and followed the coast, but the flashing blue and white rollers were now on her beam and flung her to lee as they passed. Sometimes one washed across her low counter, and sometimes her forward half was buried in a tumultuous rush of foam. The pump was soon started and they kept it going, but the water gathered in the crank-pit, where it was churned into lather, and Jake and Maccario relieved each other at helping the pump with a bucket. They were drenched and half blinded by the spray, but it was obvious that their labor was needed and they persevered.

Stopping for breath now and then, with his back to the wind, Jake glanced at the coast as the boat swung up with a sea. It made a hazy blur against the brilliant sky, but his eyes were smarting and dazzled. There was a confusing glitter all around him, and even the blue hollows they plunged into were filled with a luminous glow. Still he thought they made progress, though the launch was drifting to leeward fast, and he told Dick, who headed her out a point or two.

"This is not the usual sea breeze; it's blowing really fresh," he said. "Do you think it will drop at sundown?"

"I'm not sure," Dick replied, shading his eyes as he glanced at the windward horizon.

"Then suppose it doesn't drop?"

"If the sea gets dangerous, we'll put the helm up and run for shelter."

"Where do you expect to find it?"

"I don't know," Dick admitted. "There are reefs and shoals along the coast that we might get in behind."

Jake laughed. "Well, I guess this is a pretty rash adventure. You won't turn back while you can see, and there are safer things than running for a shoal you don't know, in the dark. However, there's a point one might get a bearing from abeam and I'll try to fix our position. It might be useful later."

Stooping beside the compass, he gazed at the hazy land across its card, and then crept under the narrow foredeck with a chart. He felt the bows sweep upwards, pause for a moment, and suddenly lurch down, but now the sea was long and regular, the motion was rhythmic. Besides, the thud and gurgle of water outside the boat's thin planks were soothing and harmonized with the measured beat of the screw. Jake got drowsy and although he had meant to take another bearing when he thought he could double the angle, presently fell asleep.

It was getting dark when he awoke and crept into the cockpit. There was a change in the motion, for the launch did not roll so much and the combers no longer broke in showers of spray against her side. She swung up with a swift but easy lift, the foam boiling high about her rail, and then gently slid down into the trough. It was plain that she was running before the wind, but Jake felt that he must pull himself together when he looked aft, for there is something strangely daunting in a big following sea. A high, white-topped ridge rolled up behind the craft, roaring as it chased her, while a stream of spray blew from its curling crest. It hid the rollers that came behind; there was nothing to be seen but a hill of water, and Jake found it a relief to fix his eyes ahead. The backs of the seas were smoother and less disturbing to watch as they faded into the gathering dark. When the comber passed, he turned to Dick, who stood, alert and highly strung, at the helm.

"You're heading for the land," he said. "What are you steering by?"

"I got the bearing of a point I thought I recognized on the chart before I lost sight of the coast. There's a long reef outshore of it, with a break near the point. If we can get through, we might find shelter."

"Suppose there's something wrong with your bearing, or you can't make good your course?"

"Then there'll be trouble," Dick answered grimly. "We'll have the reef to lee and she won't steam out again."

Jake put a kettle on the cylinder-top and took some provisions from a locker. He was hungry and thought he might need all the strength he had, while he did not want to look at the sea. The pump was clanking hard, but he could hear the water wash about under the floorings, and the launch was very wet. Darkness fell as he prepared a meal with the fireman's help, and they ate by the dim light of the engine-lamp, while Dick, to whom they handed portions, crouched at the helm, gazing close into the illuminated compass. Sometimes he missed the food they held out and it dropped and was washed into the pump-well, but he ate what he could without moving his eyes.

Since he must find the opening in the reef, much depended on his steering an accurate course, but this was difficult, because he had to bear away before the largest combers. Moreover, the erratic motion of a short boat in broken water keeps the compass-card rocking to and fro, and long practise is needed to hit the mean of its oscillations. As a matter of fact, Dick knew he was leaving much to luck.

After a time, they heard a hoarse roar. Since the sound would not carry far to windward, they knew the reef was close ahead, but where the opening lay was another matter. Dick had no guide except the compass, and as the launch would probably swamp if he tried to bring her round head to sea, he must run on and take the risk. By and by, Jake, straining his eyes to pierce the gloom, called out as he saw a ghostly white glimmer to starboard. This was the surf spouting on the reef and if it marked the edge of the channel, they would be safe in going to port; if not, the launch would very shortly be hurled upon the barrier.

Dick stood up and gazed ahead. The white patch was getting plainer, but he could see nothing else. There was, however, a difference in the motion, and the sea was confused. He ordered the engine to be slowed, and they ran on until the belt of foam bore abeam. They must be almost upon the reef now, or else in the channel, and for the next minute or two nobody spoke. If they had missed the gap, the first warning would be a shock, and then the combers that rolled up behind them would destroy the stranded craft.

She did not strike; the surf was level with her quarter, and Jake, thrusting down a long boathook, found no bottom. In another minute or two the water suddenly got smooth, and he threw down the boathook.

"We're through," he said in a strained voice. "The reef's astern."

"Try the hand-lead," Dick ordered him, as he changed his course, since he was apparently heading for the beach.

Jake got four fathoms and soon afterwards eighteen feet, when Dick stopped the engine and the launch rolled upon the broken swell. A dark streak that looked like forest indicated the land, and a line of foam that glimmered with phosphorescent light ran outshore of them. Now they were to lee of the reef, the hoarse clamor of the surf rang about the boat. Unfolding the chart, they studied it by the engine-lamp. It was on too small a scale to give many details, but they saw that the reef ran roughly level with the coast and ended in a nest of shoals near a point.

"We could ride out a gale here," Jake remarked.

"We could, if we wanted," Dick replied.

Jake looked at him rather hard and then made a sign of resignation. "Well, I guess I've had enough, but if you're going on—— How do you reckon you'll get through the shoals ahead?"

"I imagine some of them are mangrove islands, and if so, there'll be a channel of a sort between them. In fact, the chart the broker showed me indicated something of the kind. With good luck we may find it."

"Very well," said Jake. "I'm glad to think it will be a soft bottom if we run aground."

They went on, keeping, so far as they could judge, midway between reef and beach, but after a time the lead showed shoaling water and Jake used the boathook instead. Then the sky cleared and a half-moon came out, and they saw haze and the loom of trees outshore of them. Slowing the engine, they moved on cautiously while the water gradually got shallower, until glistening banks of mud began to break the surface. Then they stopped the engine, but found the launch still moved forward.

"I imagine it's about four hours' flood," Dick remarked. "That means the water will rise for some time yet, and although the current's with us now I think we can't be far off the meeting of the tides."

Jake nodded. In places of the kind, the stream often runs in from both ends until it joins and flows in one direction from the shoalest spot.

"Then we ought to find a channel leading out on the other side."

They let the engine run for a few minutes until the boat touched bottom and stuck fast in the mud. The wind seemed to be falling and the roar of the surf had got fainter. Thin haze dimmed the moonlight and there were strange splashings in the water that gently lapped about the belts of mud. The stream stopped running, but seeing no passage they waited and smoked.

"If we can get out on the other side, we oughtn't to be very far from the lagoon," Jake suggested.

Presently there was a faint rippling against the bows and the launch began to swing round.

"The tide's coming through from the other end," said Dick. "We may find a channel if we can push her across the mud."

For half an hour they laboriously poled her with a long oar and the boathook between the banks of mire. Sometimes she touched and stuck until the rising water floated her off, and sometimes she scraped along the bottom, but still made progress. They were breathless and soaked with perspiration, while the foul scum that ran off the oar stained their damp clothes. Then Jake's boathook sank a foot or two deeper and finding the depth as good after a few vigorous pushes, they started the engine.

Sour exhalations rose from the wake of the churning screw and there was a curious dragging feel in the boat's motion, as if she were pulling a body of water after her, but this was less marked when Jake found three or four feet, and by and by he threw down the pole and they went half-speed ahead. After a time, the mangroves outshore got farther off, the air smelt fresher, and small ripples broke the surface of the widening channel. They went full-speed, the trees faded, and a swell that set her rocking met the boat, although there still seemed to be a barrier of sand or mud between her and open sea.

Giving Jake the helm, Dick crawled under the foredeck, where the floorings were drier than anywhere else, and lay smoking and thinking until day broke. The light, which grew brighter rapidly, showed a glistening line of surf to seaward and mangrove forest on a point ahead. Beyond this there seemed to be an inlet, and then the shore curved out again. As they passed the point Dick stood up on deck and presently saw two tall spars rise above the mist. A few minutes later, the top of a funnel appeared, and then a sharp metallic rattle rang through the haze.

"We're in the lagoon," he said. "That's the Danish boat and she hasn't finished heaving cargo on board."



CHAPTER XXIX

KENWARDINE TAKES A RISK

Shortly after the launch entered the lagoon, the Danish boat hove her anchor and steamed out to sea. Dick, who had engaged a half-breed pilot to take the launch home, lounged in a canvas chair under the poop awning. His eyes were half closed, for the white boats and deckhouses flashed dazzlingly in the strong light as the steamer lurched across the vivid swell of the Caribbean. The cigarette he languidly held had gone out, and his pose was slack.

He was physically tired and his brain was dull, but he was conscious of lethargic satisfaction. For a long time he had been torn between his love for Clare and his duty to his country. His difficulties were further complicated by doubts of Kenwardine's guilt, but recent events had cleared these up. It was, on the whole, a relief to feel that he must now go forward and there need be no more hesitation and balancing of probabilities. The time for that had gone and his course was plain. He must confront Kenwardine with a concise statement of his share in the plot and force from him an undertaking that he would abandon his traitorous work.

This might be difficult, but Dick did not think he would fail. Don Sebastian, who perhaps knew more than he did, was to meet him at a Cuban port, and the Spaniard could be trusted to handle the matter with skill. There was no direct communication between Santa Brigida and Kingston, but steamers touched at the latter place when making a round of other ports, which would enable Dick and his ally to join Kenwardine's boat at her last call. If either of them had gone on board at Santa Brigida, Kenwardine would have left the ship at the next port.

Since he had sailed on an English steamer, bound for British territory, he would be subject to British law when they met, and they could, if needful, have him arrested. Dick admitted that this ought to be done to begin with, but had not decided about it yet. He would wait and be guided by events. The British officials might doubt his story and decline to interfere, but Kenwardine could not count on that, because Don Sebastian was armed with credentials from the President of a friendly state.

Dick, however, dismissed the matter. He was tired in mind and body, and did not mean to think of anything important until he met Kenwardine. By and by his head grew heavy, and resting it on the back of his chair, he closed his eyes. When Jake came up, followed by a steward carrying two tall glasses of frothing liquor, he saw that his comrade was fast asleep.

"You can put them down," he told the steward. "I'm thirsty enough to empty both, but you can bring some more along when my partner wakes."

After this he took a black seaman, who was making some noise as he swept the poop, by the arm and firmly led him to the other side of the deck. Then he drained the glasses with a sigh of satisfaction, and lighting a cigarette, sat down near Dick's feet. He did not mean to sleep, but when he got up with a jerk as the lunch bell rang he saw Dick smiling.

"Have I been sitting there all this time?" he asked.

"No," said Dick. "You were lying flat on deck when I woke up an hour ago." Then he indicated the two glasses, which had rolled into the scupper channel. "I shouldn't be surprised if those accounted for it."

"Perhaps they did," Jake owned, grinning. "Anyhow, we'll have some more, with a lump of ice in it, before we go down to lunch."

The Danish boat met fine weather as she leisurely made her way across the Caribbean, and after an uneventful voyage, Dick and Jake landed at a port in Cuba. The British steamer from Santa Brigida had not arrived, but the agent expected her in the evening, and they found Don Sebastian waiting them at a hotel he had named. When it was getting dark they walked to the end of the harbor mole and sat down to watch for the vessel.

Rows of the lights began to twinkle, one behind the other, at the head of the bay, and music drifted across the water. A bright glow marked the plaza, where a band was playing, but the harbor was dark except for the glimmer of anchor-lights on the oily swell. The occasional rattle of a winch, jarring harshly on the music, told that the Danish boat was working cargo. A faint, warm breeze blew off the land, and there was a flicker of green and blue phosphorescence as the sea washed about the end of the mole.

"I wonder how you'll feel if Kenwardine doesn't come," Jake said presently, looking at Dick, who did not answer.

"He will come," Don Sebastian rejoined with quiet confidence.

"Well, I guess he must know he's doing a dangerous thing."

"Senor Kenwardine does know, but he plays for high stakes and takes the risks of the game. If it had not been necessary, he would not have ventured on British soil, but since he was forced to go, he thought the boldest plan the safest. This is what one would expect, because the man is brave. He could not tell how far my suspicions went and how much Senor Brandon knew, but saw that he was watched and if he tried to hide his movements he would betray himself. It was wiser to act as if he had nothing to fear."

"As he was forced to go, his business must be important," Dick said thoughtfully. "This means he must be dealt with before he lands at Kingston. If we allowed him to meet his confederates there, the mischief would be done, and it might be too late afterwards to stop them carrying out their plans."

Don Sebastian gave him a quiet smile. "One might learn who his confederates are if he met them. It looks as if you would sooner deal with our friend on board."

"I would," Dick said steadily. "His plotting must be stopped, but I'm inclined to think I'd be content with that."

"And you?" the Spaniard asked, turning to Jake.

"I don't know that Kenwardine is in the worst of the plot. He was a friend of mine and it's your business to prove him guilty. I mean to reserve my opinion until you make your charges good."

"Very well," said Don Sebastian. "We'll be guided by what happens when we see him."

They let the matter drop, and half an hour later a white light and a green light crept out of the dark to seawards, and a faint throbbing grew into the measured beat of a steamer's screw. Then a low, shadowy hull, outlined by a glimmer of phosphorescence, came on towards the harbor mouth, and a rocket swept up in a fiery curve and burst, dropping colored lights. A harsh rattle of running chain broke out, the screw splashed noisily for a few moments and stopped, and a launch came swiftly down the harbor.

"The port doctor!" said Dick. "There's some cargo ready, and she won't sail for three or four hours. We had better wait until near the last moment before we go on board. If our man saw us, he'd take alarm and land."

Don Sebastian agreed, and they went back to the hotel, and stayed there until word was sent that the last boat was ready to leave the mole. They took their places with one or two more passengers, and as they drew near the steamer Dick looked carefully about. Several shore boats were hanging on to the warp alongside and a cargo barge lay beside her quarter. It was obvious that she would not sail immediately, and if Kenwardine saw them come on board, he would have no trouble in leaving the vessel. If he landed, he would be in neutral territory, and their hold on him would be gone. To make things worse, a big electric lamp had been hung over the gangway so as to light the ladder.

Dick could not see Kenwardine among the passengers on deck, and getting on board as quietly as possible, they went down the nearest companion stairs and along an alleyway to the purser's office. A number of rooms opened on to the passage, and Dick had an uncomfortable feeling that chance might bring him face to face with Kenwardine. Nobody met them, however, and they found the purser disengaged.

"If you have a passenger list handy, you might let me see it," Dick said as he took the tickets.

The purser gave him a list, and he noted Kenwardine's name near the bottom.

"We may as well be comfortable, although we're not going far," he resumed. "What berths have you left?"

"You can pick your place," said the purser. "We haven't many passengers this trip, and there's nobody on the starboard alleyway. However, if you want a hot bath in the morning, you had better sleep to port. They've broken a pipe on the other side."

A bath is a luxury in the Caribbean, but white men who have lived any time in the tropics prefer it warm, and Dick saw why the passengers had chosen the port alleyway. He decided to take the other, since Kenwardine would then be on the opposite side of the ship.

"We'll have the starboard rooms," he said. "One can go without a bath for once, and you'll no doubt reach Kingston to-morrow night."

"I expect so," agreed the purser. "Still, we mayn't be allowed to steam in until the next morning. They're taking rather troublesome precautions in the British ports since the commerce-raider got to work."

Dick signed to the others and crossed the after well towards the poop in a curiously grim mood. He hated the subterfuge he had practised, and there was something very repugnant in this stealthy tracking down of his man, but the chase was nearly over and he meant to finish it. Defenseless merchant seamen could not be allowed to suffer for his squeamishness.

"Don Sebastian and I will wait in the second-class smoking-room until she starts," he said to Jake. "I want you to lounge about the poop deck and watch the gangway. Let us know at once if you see Kenwardine and it looks as if he means to go ashore."

He disappeared with his companion, and Jake went up a ladder and sat down on the poop, where he was some distance from the saloon passengers. Kenwardine was less likely to be alarmed at seeing him, but he did not like his part. The man had welcomed him to his house, and although he had lost some money there, Jake did not believe his host had meant to plunder him. After all, Dick and Don Sebastian might be mistaken, and he felt mean as he watched the gangway. A hint from him would enable Kenwardine to escape, and it was galling to feel that it must not be given. Indeed, as time went on, Jake began to wish that Kenwardine would learn that they were on board and take alarm. He was not sure he would warn Dick if the fellow tried to steal away.

In the meanwhile, the pumps on board a water-boat had stopped clanking and she was towed towards the harbor. The steamer's winches rattled as they hove up cargo from the barge, but Jake had seen that there was not much left and she would sail as soon as the last load was hoisted in. Lighting a cigarette, he ran his eye along the saloon-deck. A few passengers in white clothes walked up and down, and he studied their faces as they passed the lights, but Kenwardine was not among them. A group leaned upon the rails in the shadow of a boat, and Jake felt angry because he could not see them well. The suspense was getting keen, and he wished Kenwardine would steal down the ladder and jump into a boat before he could give the alarm.

There was, however, no suspicious movement on the saloon-deck, and Jake, walking to the rail, saw the peons putting the last of the barge's cargo into the sling. It came up with a rattle of chain, and the barge sheered off. Somebody gave an order, and there was a bustle on deck. In another few minutes Kenwardine's last chance of escape would be gone, because a British ship is British territory, and her captain can enforce his country's laws.

Jake threw away his cigarette and took out another when the whistle blew and the windlass began to clank. Although the anchor was coming up, two boats hung on to the foot of the ladder, and he could not be expected to see what was going on while he lighted his cigarette. Kenwardine was clever, and might have waited until the last moment before making his escape, with the object of leaving his pursuers on board, but if he did not go now it would be too late. The clank of the windlass stopped, and Jake, dropping the match when the flame touched his fingers, looked up. A group of dark figures were busy on the forecastle, and he saw the captain on the bridge.

"All clear forward, sir!" a hoarse voice cried, and somebody shouted: "Cast off the boats!"

Then there was a rattle of blocks as the ladder was hoisted in, and the deck quivered as the engines began to throb. Jake heard the screw slowly flounder round and the wash beneath the poop as the steamer moved out to sea, but there was nobody except their colored crews on board the boats that dropped astern. Kenwardine had had his chance and lost it. He had been too bold and now must confront his enemies.

Jake went down the ladder and found Dick waiting at the door of the second-class saloon.

"He's on board," he said. "I'm sorry he is. In fact, I'm not sure I'd have told you if he'd tried to light out at the last moment."

Dick gave him a dry smile. "I suspect that Don Sebastian didn't trust you altogether. He left me, and I shouldn't be surprised to learn that he had found a place where he could watch the gangway without being seen."

A few minutes later, the Spaniard crossed the after well. "Now," he said, "we must decide when we ought to have our interview with Senor Kenwardine, and I think we should put it off until just before we land."

"Why?" Jake asked. "It would be much pleasanter to get it over and have done with it."

"I think not," Don Sebastian answered quietly. "We do not know how Senor Kenwardine will meet the situation. He is a bold man, and it is possible that he will defy us."

"How can he defy you when he knows you can hand him over to the British authorities?"

"That might be necessary; but I am not sure it is the British authorities he fears the most."

"Then who is he afraid of?"

"His employers, I imagine," Don Sebastian answered with a curious smile. "It is understood that they trust nobody and are not very gentle to those who do not serve them well. Senor Kenwardine knows enough about their plans to be dangerous, and it looks as if he might fail to carry their orders out. If we give him too long a warning, he may escape us after all."

"I don't see how he could escape. You have him corralled when he's under the British flag."

Don Sebastian shrugged as he indicated the steamer's low iron rail and the glimmer of foam in the dark below.

"There is one way! If he takes it, we shall learn no more than we know now."

He left them, and Jake looked at Dick. "It's unthinkable! I can't stand for it!"

"No," said Dick very quietly; "he mustn't be pushed too far. For all that, his friends can't be allowed to go on sinking British ships."



CHAPTER XXX

THE LAST ENCOUNTER

Dick awoke next morning with a feeling of nervous strain that got worse as the day wore on. By going down to the saloon immediately the breakfast-bell rang and making a hurried meal, he and his companions avoided meeting Kenwardine, and, after bribing a steward, were given lunch with the second-class passengers. Two difficulties were thus got over, but the time passed heavily while they kept out of sight in quiet corners of the after well, and Dick found it a relief when a friendly engineer invited him below. Here he spent some hours, smoking and watching the machinery, while the fingers of the clock on the bulkhead crawled with painful slowness round the dial.

When he went up on deck the bold ridge of the Blue Mountains rose above the dazzling sea, but the lower slopes were veiled in haze and he could not tell how far the land was off. A mate informed him that they would have the coast close aboard at dusk, but did not think anybody would be allowed to land until the morning. Struck by a thought, Dick asked if any passenger boats were likely to be in port, and the mate replied that a Spanish liner would leave for Brazil soon after they arrived, but he knew of no vessel going north for the next few days. Then, after giving Dick some advice about the choice of a hotel, he went away.