Brandon of the Engineers Part 25

"As you haven't been here since you got better, I imagine there's some particular reason for this call," he said, with a smile.

"That is so," d.i.c.k agreed. "I've come on Fuller's behalf. He gave you a check the other night. Have you cashed it yet?"

"No. I imagined he might want to redeem it."

"He does; but, to begin with, I'd like to know how much he lost before he staked the check. I understand he increased the original stakes during the game."

"I dare say I could tell you, but I don't see your object."

"I'll explain it soon. We can't get on until I know the sum."

Kenwardine took a small, card-scoring book from a drawer, and after a few moments stated the amount Jake had lost.

"Thank you," said d.i.c.k. "I'll pay you the money now in exchange for the check."

"But he lost the check as well."

d.i.c.k hesitated. He had a repugnant part to play, since he must accuse the man who had taken him into his house when he was wounded of conspiring to rob a drunken lad. For all that, his benefactor's son should not be ruined, and he meant to separate him from Kenwardine.

"I think not," he answered coolly. "But suppose we let that go? The check is worthless, because payment can be stopped, but I'm willing to give you what Fuller had already lost."

Kenwardine raised his eyebrows in ironical surprise. "This is a somewhat extraordinary course. Is Mr. Fuller in the habit of disowning his debts?

You know the rule about a loss at cards."

"Fuller has left the thing in my hands, and you must hold me responsible.

I mean to stick to the line I've taken."

"Then perhaps you won't mind explaining on what grounds you take it."

"Since you insist! Fuller was drunk when he made the bet. As you were his host, it was your duty to stop the game."

"The exact point when an excited young man ceases to be sober is remarkably hard to fix," Kenwardine answered dryly. "It would be awkward for the host if he fixed it too soon, and insulting to the guest."

"That's a risk you should have taken. For another thing, Fuller states that a trump was played by a man who ought not to have had it."

Kenwardine smiled. "Doesn't it strike you that you're urging conflicting reasons? First you declare that Fuller was drunk, and then that he was able to detect clever players at cheating. Your argument contradicts itself and is plainly absurd."

"Anyhow, I mean to urge it," d.i.c.k said doggedly.

"Well," said Kenwardine with a steady look, "I've no doubt you see what this implies. You charge me with a plot to intoxicate your friend and take a mean advantage of his condition."

"No; I don't go so far. I think you should have stopped the game, but Fuller accuses a man called Black of playing the wrong card. In fact, I admit that you don't mean to harm him, by taking it for granted that you'll let me have the check, because if you kept it, you'd have some hold on him."

"A firm hold," Kenwardine remarked.

d.i.c.k had partly expected this, and had his answer ready. "Not so firm as you think. If there was no other way, it would force me to stop payment and inform my employer. It would be much better that Jake should have to deal with his father than with your friends."

"You seem to have thought over the matter carefully," Kenwardine rejoined. "Well, personally, I'm willing to accept your offer and give up the check; but I must consult the others, since their loss is as much as mine. Will you wait while I go to the telephone?"

d.i.c.k waited for some time, after which Kenwardine came back and gave him the check. As soon as he got it d.i.c.k left the house, satisfied because he had done what he had meant to do, and yet feeling doubtful. Kenwardine had given way too easily. It looked as if he was not convinced that he must leave Fuller alone.

On reaching the dam d.i.c.k gave Jake the check and told him how he had got it. The lad flushed angrily, but was silent for a moment, and then gave d.i.c.k a curious look.

"I can't deny your generosity, and I'll pay you back; but you see the kind of fellow you make me out."

"I told Kenwardine you left me to deal with the matter, and the plan was mine," said d.i.c.k.

Jake signified by a gesture that the subject must be dropped. "As I did agree to leave it to you, I can't object. After all, I expect you meant well."

CHAPTER XVII

THE BLACK-FUNNEL BOAT

The breeze had fallen and the shining sea was smooth as gla.s.s when the launch pa.s.sed Adexe. d.i.c.k, who lounged at the helm, was not going there.

Some alterations to a mole along the coast had just been finished, and Stuyvesant had sent him to engage the contractor who had done the concrete work. Jake, who occasionally found his duties irksome, had insisted on coming.

As they crossed the mouth of the inlet, d.i.c.k glanced sh.o.r.ewards through his gla.s.ses. The whitewashed coal-sheds glistened dazzlingly, and a fringe of snowy surf marked the curve of beach, but outside this a belt of cool, blue water extended to the wharf. The swell surged to and fro among the piles, checkered with purple shadows and laced with threads of foam, but it was the signs of human activity that occupied d.i.c.k's attention. He noticed the cloud of dust that rolled about the mounds of coal upon the wharf and blurred the figures of the toiling peons, and the way the tubs swung up and down from the hatches of an American collier until the rattle of her winches suddenly broke off.

"They seem to be doing a big business," he remarked. "It looks as if that boat had stopped discharging, but she must have landed a large quant.i.ty of coal."

"There's pretty good shelter at Adexe," Jake replied. "In ordinary weather, steamers can come up to the wharf, instead of lying a quarter of a mile off, as they do at Santa Brigida. However, there's not much cargo shipped, and a captain who wanted his bunkers filled would have to make a special call with little chance of picking up any freight. That must tell against the place."

They were not steaming fast, and just before a projecting point shut in the inlet the deep blast of a whistle rang across the water and the collier's dark hull swung out from the wharf. A streak of foam, cut sharply between her black side and the shadowed blue of the sea, marked her load-line, and she floated high, but not as if she were empty.

"Going on somewhere else to finish, I guess," said Jake. "How much do you reckon she has discharged?"

"Fifteen hundred tons, if she was full when she came in, and I imagine they hadn't much room in the sheds before. I wonder where Kenwardine gets the money, unless his friend, Richter, is rich."

"Richter has nothing to do with the business," Jake replied. "He was to have had a share, but they couldn't come to a satisfactory agreement."

d.i.c.k looked at him sharply. "How do you know?"

"I really don't know much. Kenwardine said something about it one night when I was at his house."

"Did somebody ask him?"

"No," said Jake, "I don't think so. The subject, so to speak, cropped up and he offered us the information."

Then he talked of something else and soon afterwards the coast receded as they crossed a wide bay. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when they reached the farthest point from land. There was no wind, and in the foreground the sea ran in long undulations whose backs blazed with light.

Farther off, the gentle swell was smoothed out and became an oily expanse that faded into the glitter on the horizon, but at one point the latter was faintly blurred. A pa.s.sing vessel, d.i.c.k thought, and occupied himself with the engine, for he had not brought the fireman. Looking round some time afterwards, he saw that the ship had got more distinct and picked up his gla.s.ses.

She was a two-masted steamer and, cut off by the play of reflected light, floated like a mirage between sky and sea. After studying her for a minute, d.i.c.k gave Jake the gla.s.ses.

"It's a curious effect, but not uncommon on a day like this," he said.