Brandon of the Engineers Part 34

"Just so. I do not doubt your honesty, but it is difficult to follow your arguments."

"It oughtn't to be difficult. You have heard that the French liner was sunk by a black-funnel boat."

"Black funnels are common. Why do you imagine the vessel you saw was an auxiliary cruiser?"

"Because her crew looked like navy men. They were unusually numerous and were busy at drill."

"Boat or fire drill probably. They often exercise them at it on board pa.s.senger ships. Besides, I think you stated that it was dark."

d.i.c.k pondered for a few moments. He had heard that Government officials were hard to move, and knew that, in hot countries, Englishmen who marry native wives sometimes grow apathetic and succ.u.mb to the climatic lethargy. But this was not all: he had to contend against the official dislike of anything informal and unusual. Had he been in the navy, his warning would have received attention, but as he was a humble civilian he had, so to speak, no business to know anything about such matters.

"Well," he said, "you can make inquiries and see if my conclusions are right."

The Vice-Consul smiled. "That is not so. You can pry into the coaling company's affairs and, if you are caught, it would be looked upon as an individual impertinence. If I did anything of the kind, it would reflect upon the Foreign Office and compromise our relations with a friendly state. The Adexe wharf is registered according to the laws of this country as being owned by a native company."

"Then go to the authorities and tell them what you know."

"The difficulty is that I know nothing except that you have told me a somewhat improbable tale."

"But you surely don't mean to let the raider do what she likes? Her next victim may be a British vessel."

"I imagine the British admiralty will attend to that, and I have already sent a cablegram announcing the loss of the French boat."

d.i.c.k saw that he was doubted and feared that argument would be useless, but he would not give in.

"A raider must have coal and it's not easy to get upon this coast," he resumed. "You could render her harmless by cutting off supplies."

"Do you know much about international law and how far it prohibits a neutral country from selling coal to a belligerent?"

"I don't know anything about it; but if our Foreign Office is any good, they ought to be able to stop the thing," d.i.c.k answered doggedly.

"Then let me try to show you how matters stand. We will suppose that your suspicions were correct and I thought fit to make representations to the Government of this country. What do you think would happen?"

"They'd be forced to investigate your statements."

"Exactly. The head of a department would be asked to report. You probably know that every official whose business brings him into touch with it is in the coaling company's pay; I imagine there is not a foreign trader here who does not get small favors in return for bribes. Bearing this in mind, it is easy to understand what the report would be. I should have shown that we suspected the good faith of a friendly country, and there would be nothing gained."

"Still, you can't let the matter drop," d.i.c.k insisted.

"Although you have given me no proof of your statements, which seem to be founded on conjectures, I have not said that I intend to let it drop. In the meantime I am ent.i.tled to ask for some information about yourself.

You look like an Englishman and have not been here long. Did you leave home after the war broke out?"

"Yes," said d.i.c.k, who saw where he was leading, "very shortly afterwards."

"Why? Men like you are needed for the army."

d.i.c.k colored, but looked his questioner steadily in the face.

"I was in the army. They turned me out."

The Vice-Consul made a gesture. "I have nothing to do with the reason for this; but you can see my difficulty. You urge me to meddle with things that require very delicate handling and with which my interference would have to be justified. No doubt, you can imagine the feelings of my superiors when I admitted that I acted upon hints given me by a stranger in the employ of Americans, who owned to having been dismissed from the British army."

d.i.c.k got up, with his face firmly set.

"Very well. There's no more to be said. I won't trouble you again."

Leaving the house, he walked moodily back to the end of the line. The Vice-Consul was a merchant and thought first of his business, which might suffer if he gained the ill-will of corrupt officials. He would, no doubt, move if he were forced, but he would demand incontestable proof, which d.i.c.k feared he could not find. Well, he had done his best and been rebuffed, and now the temptation to let the matter drop was strong. To go on would bring him into conflict with Kenwardine, and perhaps end in his losing Clare, but he must go on. For all that, he would leave the Vice-Consul alone and trust to getting some help from his employer's countrymen. If it could be shown that the enemy was establishing a secret base for naval operations at Adexe, he thought the Americans would protest. The Vice-Consul, however, had been of some service by teaching him the weakness of his position. He must strengthen it by carefully watching what went on, and not interfere until he could do so with effect. Finding the locomotive waiting, he returned to his shack and with an effort fixed his mind upon the plans of some work that he must superintend in the morning.

For the next few days he was busily occupied. A drum of the traveling crane broke and as it could not be replaced for a time, d.i.c.k put up an iron derrick of Bethune's design to lower the concrete blocks into place.

They were forced to use such material as they could find, and the gang of peons who handled the chain-tackle made a poor subst.i.tute for a steam engine. In consequence, the work progressed slowly and Stuyvesant ordered it to be carried on into the night. Jake and Bethune grumbled, but d.i.c.k found the longer hours and extra strain something of a relief. He had now no leisure to indulge in painful thoughts; besides, while he was busy at the dam he could not watch Kenwardine, and his duty to his employer justified his putting off an unpleasant task.

One hot night he stood, soaked with perspiration and dressed in soiled duck clothes, some distance beneath the top of the dam, which broke down to a lower level at the spot. There was no moon, but a row of blast-lamps that grew dimmer as they receded picked out the tall embankment with jets of pulsating flame. Glimmering silvery gray in the light, it cut against the gloom in long sweeping lines, with a molded rib that added a touch of grace where the slope got steeper towards its top. This was d.i.c.k's innovation. He had fought hard for it and when Jake supported him Stuyvesant had written to Fuller, who sanctioned the extra cost. The rib marked the fine contour of the structure and fixed its bold curve upon the eye.

Where the upper surface broke off, two gangs of men stood beside the tackles that trailed away from the foot of the derrick. The flame that leaped with a roar from a lamp on a tripod picked out some of the figures with harsh distinctness, but left the rest dim and blurred. d.i.c.k stood eight or nine feet below, with the end of the line, along which the blocks were brought, directly above his head. A piece of rail had been clamped across the metals to prevent the truck running over the edge.

Jake stood close by on the downward slope of the dam. Everything was ready for the lowering of the next block, but they had a few minutes to wait.

"That rib's a great idea," Jake remarked. "Tones up the whole work; it's curious what you can do with a flowing line, but it must be run just right. Make it the least too flat and you get harshness, too full and the effect's vulgarly pretty or voluptuous. Beauty's severely chaste and I allow, as far as form goes, this dam's a looker." He paused and indicated the indigo sky, flaring lights, and sweep of pearly stone. "Then if you want color, you can revel in silver, orange, and blue."

d.i.c.k, who nodded, shared Jake's admiration. He had helped to build the dam and, in a sense, had come to love it. Any defacement or injury to it would hurt him. Just then a bright, blinking spot emerged from the dark at the other end of the line and increased in radiance as it came forward, flickering along the slope of stone. It was the head-lamp of the locomotive that pushed the ma.s.sive concrete block they waited for. The block cut off the light immediately in front of and below it, and when the engine, snorting harshly, approached the edge of the gap somebody shouted and steam was cut off. The truck stopped just short of the rail fastened across the line, and d.i.c.k looked up.

The blast-lamp flung its glare upon the engine and the rays of the powerful head-light drove horizontally into the dark, but the s.p.a.ce beyond the broken end of the dam was kept in shadow by the block, and the glitter above dazzled his eyes.

"Swing the derrick-boom and tell the engineer to come on a yard or two,"

he said.

There was a patter of feet, a rattle of chains, and somebody called: "_Adelante locomotura!_"

The engine snorted, the wheels ground through the fragments of concrete scattered about the line, and the big dark ma.s.s rolled slowly forward. It seemed to d.i.c.k to be going farther than it ought, but he had ascertained that the guard-rail was securely fastened. As he watched the front of the truck, Jake, who stood a few feet to one side, leaned out and seized his shoulder.

"Jump!" he cried, pulling him forward.

d.i.c.k made an awkward leap, and alighting on the steep front of the dam, fell heavily on his side. As he clutched the stones to save himself from sliding down, a black ma.s.s plunged from the line above and there was a deafening crash as it struck the spot he had left. Then a shower of fragments fell upon him and he choked amidst a cloud of dust. Hoa.r.s.e shouts broke out above, and he heard men running about the dam as he got up, half dazed.

"Are you all right, Jake?" he asked.

"Not a scratch," was the answer; and d.i.c.k, scrambling up the bank, called for a lamp.

It was brought by a big mulatto, and d.i.c.k held up the light. The last-fitted block of the ribbed course was split in two, and the one that had fallen was scattered about in ma.s.sive broken lumps. Amidst these lay the guard-rail, and the front wheels of the truck hung across the gap above. There was other damage, and d.i.c.k frowned as he looked about.

"We'll be lucky if we get the broken molding out in a day, and I expect we'll have to replace two of the lower blocks," he said. "It's going to be an awkward and expensive job now that the cement has set."

"Is that all?" Jake asked with a forced grin.

"It's enough," said d.i.c.k. "However, we'll be better able to judge in the daylight."

Then he turned to the engineer, who was standing beside the truck, surrounded by excited peons. "How did it happen?"

"I had my hand on the throttle when I got the order to go ahead, and let her make a stroke or two, reckoning the guard-rail would snub up the car.