Brandon of the Engineers Part 20

"I do," he said, regarding her with gravely pitiful eyes. "Still, you rather forced it out of me. Perhaps this is a weak excuse, because I had meant to forget the matter."

"But didn't you want to clear yourself and get taken back?"

"No; I knew it was too late. I'd shown I couldn't be trusted with an important job; and I'd made a fresh start here."

His answer touched the girl, and after a quick half-ashamed glance, she thought she had misjudged him. It was not her physical charm that had made him willing to condone her offense, for he showed none of the bold admiration she had shrunk from in other men. Instead, he was compa.s.sionate and, she imagined, anxious to save her pain.

She did not answer and turning her head, vacantly watched the sh.o.r.e slide past. The mountains were growing blacker, trails of mist that looked like gauze gathered in the ravines, and specks of light began to pierce the gloom ahead. They marked Santa Brigida, and something must still be said before the launch reached port. It was painful that Brandon should take her guilt for granted, but she feared to declare her innocence.

"You were hurt when I pa.s.sed you at Adexe," she remarked, without looking at him. "You must, however, see that friendship between us is impossible while you think me a thief."

"I must try to explain," d.i.c.k said slowly. "When I recovered my senses at your house after being ill, I felt I must get away as soon as possible, though I ought to have remembered only that you had taken care of me.

Still, you see, my mind was weak just then. Afterwards I realized how ungratefully I had behaved. The plans didn't matter; they weren't really of much importance, and I knew if you had taken them, it was because you were forced. That made all the difference; in a way, you were not to blame. I'm afraid," he concluded lamely, "I haven't made it very clear."

Clare was moved by his nave honesty, which seemed to be guarded by something finer than common sense. After all, he had made things clear.

He owned that he believed she had taken the plans, and yet he did not think her a thief. On the surface, this was rather involved, but she saw what he meant. Still, it did not carry them very far.

"It is not long since you warned Mr. Fuller against us," she resumed.

"Not against you; that would have been absurd. However, Jake's something of a gambler and your father's friends play for high stakes. The lad was put in my hands by people who trusted me to look after him. I had to justify their confidence."

"Of course. But you must understand that my father and I stand together.

What touches him, touches me."

d.i.c.k glanced ahead. The lights of Santa Brigida had drawn out in a broken line, and those near the beach were large and bright. A hundred yards away, two twinkling, yellow tracks stretched across the water from the shadowy bulk of a big cargo boat. Farther on, he could see the black end of the mole washed by frothy surf. There was little time for further talk and no excuse for stopping the launch.

"That's true in a sense," he agreed with forced quietness. "I've done you an injustice, Miss Kenwardine; so much is obvious, but I can't understand the rest just yet. I suppose I mustn't ask you to forget the line I took?"

"We can't be friends as if nothing had happened."

d.i.c.k made a gesture of moody acquiescence. "Well, perhaps something will clear up the matter by and by. I must wait, because while it's difficult now, I feel it will come right."

A minute or two later he ran the launch alongside a flight of steps on the mole, and helping Clare to land went with her to her house. They said nothing on the way, but she gave him her hand when he left her at the door.

CHAPTER XIV

COMPLICATIONS

It was dark outside the feeble lamplight, and very hot, when d.i.c.k sat on his veranda after a day of keen activity in the burning sun. He felt slack and jaded, for he had had difficult work to do and his dusky laborers had flagged under the unusual heat. There was now no touch of coolness in the stagnant air, and although the camp down the valley was very quiet a confused hum of insects came out of the jungle. It rose and fell with a monotonous regularity that jarred upon d.i.c.k's nerves as he forced himself to think.

He was in danger of falling in love with Clare Kenwardine; indeed, he suspected that it would be better to face the truth and admit that he had already done so. The prudent course would be to fight against and overcome his infatuation; but suppose he found this impossible, as he feared? It seemed certain that she had stolen his papers; but after all he did not hold her accountable. Some day he would learn more about the matter and find that she was blameless. He had been a fool to think harshly of her, but he knew now that his first judgment was right. Clare, who could not have done anything base and treacherous, was much too good for him. This, however, was not the subject with which he meant to occupy himself, because if he admitted that he hoped to marry Clare, there were serious obstacles in his way.

To begin with, he had made it difficult, if not impossible, for the girl to treat him with the friendliness she had previously shown; besides which, Kenwardine would, no doubt, try to prevent his meeting her, and his opposition would be troublesome. Then it was plainly desirable that she should be separated from her father, who might involve her in his intrigues, because there was ground for believing that he was a dangerous man. In the next place, d.i.c.k was far from being able to support a wife accustomed to the extravagance that Kenwardine practised. It might be long before he could offer her the lowest standard of comfort necessary for an Englishwoman in a hot, foreign country.

He felt daunted, but not altogether hopeless, and while he pondered the matter Bethune came in. On the whole, d.i.c.k found his visit a relief.

"I expect you'll be glad to hear we can keep the machinery running,"

Bethune said as he sat down.

d.i.c.k nodded. Their fuel was nearly exhausted, for owing to strikes and shortage of shipping Fuller had been unable to keep them supplied.

"Then you have got some coal? As there's none at Santa Brigida just now, where's it coming from?"

"Adexe. Four big lighter loads. Stuyvesant has given orders to have them towed round."

"I understood the Adexe people didn't keep a big stock. The wharf is small."

"So did I, but it seems that Kenwardine came to Stuyvesant and offered him as much as he wanted."

"Kenwardine!" d.i.c.k exclaimed.

Bethune lighted his pipe. "Yes, Kenwardine. As the wharf's supposed to be owned by Spaniards, I don't see what he has to do with it, unless he's recently bought them out. Anyhow, it's high-grade navigation coal."

"Better stuff than we need, but the difference in price won't matter if we can keep the concrete mill going," d.i.c.k remarked thoughtfully. "Still, it's puzzling. If Kenwardine has bought the wharf, why's he sending the coal away, instead of using it in the regular bunkering trade?"

"There's a hint of mystery about the matter. I expect you heard about the collier tramp that was consigned to the French company at Arucas? Owing to some dispute, they wouldn't take the cargo and the shippers put it on the market. Fuller tried to buy some, but found that another party had got the lot. Well, Stuyvesant believes it was the German, Richter, who bought it up."

"Jake tells me that Richter's a friend of Kenwardine's."

"I didn't know about that," said Bethune. "They may have bought the cargo for some particular purpose, for which they afterwards found it wouldn't be required, and now want to sell some off."

"Then Kenwardine must have more money than I thought."

"The money may be Richter's," Bethune replied. "However, since we'll now have coal enough to last until Fuller sends some out, I don't know that we have any further interest in the matter."

He glanced keenly at d.i.c.k's thoughtful face; and then, as the latter did not answer, talked about something else until he got up to go. After he had gone, d.i.c.k leaned back in his chair with a puzzled frown. He had met Richter and rather liked him, but the fellow was a German, and it was strange that he should choose an English partner for his speculations, as he seemed to have done. But while Kenwardine was English, d.i.c.k's papers had been stolen at his house, and his distrust of the man grew stronger.

There was something suspicious about this coal deal, but he could not tell exactly what his suspicions pointed to, and by and by he took up the plan of a culvert they were to begin next morning.

A few days later, Jake and he sat, one night, in the stern of the launch, which lay head to sea about half a mile from the Adexe wharf. The promised coal had not arrived, and, as fuel was running very short at the concrete mill, d.i.c.k had gone to see that a supply was sent. It was late when he reached Adexe, and found n.o.body in authority about, but three loaded lighters were moored at the wharf, and a gang of peons were tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the coal that was being thrown on board another. Ahead of the craft lay a small tug with steam up. As the half-breed foreman declared that he did not know whether the coal was going to Santa Brigida or not, d.i.c.k boarded the tug and found her Spanish captain drinking cana with his engineer. d.i.c.k thought one looked at the other meaningly as he entered the small, hot cabin.

"I suppose it's Senor Fuller's coal in the barges, and we're badly in want of it," he said. "As you have steam up, you'll start soon."

"We start, yes," answered the skipper, who spoke some English, and then paused and shrugged. "I do not know if we get to Santa Brigida to-night."

"Why?" d.i.c.k asked. "There's not very much wind, and it's partly off the land."

The half-breed engineer described in uncouth Castilian the difficulties he had had with a defective pump and leaking glands, and d.i.c.k, who did not understand much of it, went back to his launch. Stopping the craft a short distance from the harbor, he said to Jake: "We'll wait until they start. Somehow I don't think they meant to leave to-night if I hadn't turned them out."

Jake looked to windward. There was a moon in the sky, which was, however, partly obscured by driving clouds. The breeze was strong, but, blowing obliquely off the land did not ruffle the sea much near the beach. A long swell, however, worked in, and farther out the white tops of the combers glistened in the moonlight. Now and then a fresher gust swept off the shadowy coast and the water frothed in angry ripples about the launch.

"They ought to make Santa Brigida, though they'll find some sea running when they reach off-sh.o.r.e to go round the Tajada reef," he remarked.

"There's water enough through the inside channel."