Brandon of the Engineers Part 36

d.i.c.k laughed. "I really did try to keep him, but was helped by luck. We have been unusually busy at the dam and although I don't know that his love for cement is strong he doesn't often leave a half-finished job."

"If you work upon his feelings in that way, I expect you'll beat me; but after all, I'm not scheming to entangle the lad. He's a bright and amusing youngster, but there wouldn't be much profit in exploiting him.

However, you have had some accidents at the dam, haven't you?"

d.i.c.k was immediately on his guard, but he answered carelessly: "We broke a crane-drum, which delayed us."

"And didn't a truck fall down the embankment and do some damage?"

"It did," said d.i.c.k. "We had a big molded block, which cost a good deal to make, smashed to pieces, and some others split. I had something of an escape, too, because I was standing under the block."

He was watching Kenwardine and thought his expression changed and his easy pose stiffened. His self-control was good, but d.i.c.k imagined he was keenly interested and surprised.

"Then you ran a risk of being killed?"

"Yes. Jake, however, saw the danger and warned me just before the block fell."

"That was lucky. But you have a curious temperament. When we began to talk of the accidents, you remembered the damage to Fuller's property before the risk to your life."

"Well," said d.i.c.k, "you see I wasn't hurt, but the damage still keeps us back."

"How did the truck run off the line? I should have thought you'd have taken precautions against anything of the kind."

d.i.c.k pondered. He believed Kenwardine really was surprised to hear he had nearly been crushed by the block; but the fellow was clever and had begun to talk about the accidents. He must do nothing to rouse his suspicions, and began a painstaking account of the matter, explaining that the guard-rail had got loose, but saying nothing about the clamps being tampered with. Indeed, the trouble he took about the explanation was in harmony with his character and his interest in his work, and presently Kenwardine looked bored.

"I quite understand the thing," he said, and got up as the man d.i.c.k was waiting for came towards the table.

The merchant did not keep d.i.c.k long, and he left the cafe feeling satisfied. Kenwardine had probably had him watched and had had something to do with the theft of the sheet from his blotting pad, but knew nothing about the attempt upon his life. After hearing about it, he understood why the accident happened, but had no cause to think that d.i.c.k knew, and some of his fellow conspirators were responsible for this part of the plot. d.i.c.k wondered whether he would try to check them now he did know, because if they tried again, they would do so with Kenwardine's tacit consent.

A few days later, he was sitting with Bethune and Jake one evening when Stuyvesant came in and threw a card, printed with the flag of a British steamship company, on the table.

"I'm not going, but you might like to do so," he said.

d.i.c.k, who was nearest, picked up the card. It was an invitation to a dinner given to celebrate the first call of a large new steamship at Santa Brigida, and he imagined it had been sent to the leading citizens and merchants who imported goods by the company's vessels. After glancing at it, he pa.s.sed it on.

"I'll go," Bethune remarked. "After the Spartan simplicity we practise at the camp, it will be a refreshing change to eat a well-served dinner in a mailboat's saloon, though I've no great admiration for British cookery."

"It can't be worse than the dago kind we're used to," Jake broke in.

"What's the matter with it, anyhow?"

"It's like the British character, heavy and unchanging," Bethune replied.

"A London hotel menu, with English beer and whisky, in the tropics! Only people without imagination would offer it to their guests; and then they've printed a list of the ports she's going to at the bottom. Would any other folk except perhaps the Germans, couple an invitation with a hint that they were ready to trade? If a Spaniard comes to see you on business, he talks for half an hour about politics or your health, and apologizes for mentioning such a thing as commerce when he comes to the point."

"The British plan has advantages," said Stuyvesant. "You know what you're doing when you deal with them."

"That's so. We know, for example, when this boat will arrive at any particular place and when she'll sail; while you can reckon on a French liner's being three or four days late and on the probability of a Spaniard's not turning up at all. But whether you have revolutions, wars, or tidal waves, the Britisher sails on schedule."

"There's some risk in that just now," Stuyvesant observed.

Bethune turned to Jake. "You had better come. The card states there'll be music, and the agent will hire Vallejo's band, which is pretty good.

Guitars, mandolins, and fiddles on the p.o.o.p, and senoritas in gauzy dresses flitting through graceful dances in the after well! The entertainment ought to appeal to your artistic taste."

"I'm going," Jake replied.

"So am I," said d.i.c.k.

Jake grinned. "That's rather sudden, isn't it? However, you may be needed to look after Bethune."

An evening or two later, they boarded the launch at the town mole. The sea was smooth and glimmered with phosph.o.r.escence in the shadow of the land, for the moon had not risen far above the mountains. Outside the harbor mouth, the liner's long, black hull cut against the dusky blue, the flowing curve of her sheer picked out by a row of lights. Over this rose three white tiers of pa.s.senger decks, pierced by innumerable bright points, with larger lights in constellations outside, while masts and funnels ran up, faintly indicated, into the gloom above. She scarcely moved to the lift of the languid swell, but as the undulations pa.s.sed there was a pale-green shimmer about her waterline that magnified the height to her topmost deck. She looked unsubstantial, rather like a floating fairy palace than a ship, and as the noisy launch drew nearer Jake gave his imagination rein.

"She was made, just right, by magic; a ship of dreams," he said. "Look how she glimmers, splashed with cadmium radiance, on velvety blue; and her formlessness outside the lights wraps her in mystery. Yet you get a hint of swiftness."

"You know she has power and speed," Bethune interrupted.

"No," said Jake firmly, "it's not a matter of knowledge; she appeals to your imagination. You feel that airy fabric must travel like the wind."

Then he turned to d.i.c.k, who was steering. "There's a boat ahead with a freight of senoritas in white and orange gossamer; they know something about grace of line in this country. Are you going to rush past them, like a dull barbarian, in this kicking, snorting launch?"

"I'll make for the other side of the ship, if you like."

"You needn't go so far," Jake answered with a chuckle. "But you might muzzle your rackety engine."

d.i.c.k, who had seen the boat, gave her room enough, but let the engine run. He imagined that Jake's motive for slowing down might be misunderstood by the senoritas' guardian, since a touch of Moorish influence still colors the Spaniard's care of his women. As the launch swung to starboard her red light shone into the boat, and d.i.c.k recognized Don Sebastian sitting next a stout lady in a black dress. There were three or four girls beside them, and then d.i.c.k's grasp on the tiller stiffened, for the ruby beam picked out Clare's face. He thought it wore a tired look, but she turned her head, as if dazzled, and the light pa.s.sed on, and d.i.c.k's heart beat as the boat dropped back into the gloom.

Since Kenwardine had sent Clare with Don Sebastian, he could not be going, and d.i.c.k might find an opportunity for speaking to her alone. He meant to do so, although the interview would not be free from embarra.s.sment. Then he avoided another boat, and stopping the engine, steered for the steamer's ladder.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE ALTERED SAILING LIST

When dinner was over, d.i.c.k sat by himself in a quiet spot on the liner's quarter-deck. There was a tall, iron bulwark beside him, but close by this was replaced by netted rails, through which he caught the pale shimmer of the sea. The warm land-breeze had freshened and ripples splashed against the vessel's side, while every now and then a languid gurgle rose from about her waterline and the foam her plates threw off was filled with phosph.o.r.escent flame. A string band was playing on the p.o.o.p, and pa.s.sengers and guests moved through the intricate figures of a Spanish dance on the broad deck below. Their poses were graceful and their dress was picturesque, but d.i.c.k watched them listlessly.

He was not in a mood for dancing, for he had been working hard at the dam and his thoughts were disturbed. Clare had refused him, and although he did not accept her decision as final, he could see no way of taking her out of her father's hands, while he had made no progress towards unraveling the latter's plots. Kenwardine was not on board, but d.i.c.k had only seen Clare at some distance off across the table in the saloon.

Moreover, he thought she must have taken some trouble to avoid meeting him.

Then he remembered the speeches made by the visitors at dinner, and the steamship officers' replies. The former, colored by French and Spanish politeness and American wit, eulogized the power of the British navy and the courage of her merchant captains. There was war, they said, but British commerce went on without a check; goods shipped beneath the red ensign would be delivered safe in spite of storm and strife; Britannia, with trident poised, guarded the seas. For this the boldly-announced sailing list served as text, but d.i.c.k, who made allowances for exuberant Latin sentiment, noted the captain's response with some surprise.

His speech was flamboyant, and did not harmonize with the character of the man, who had called at the port before in command of another ship. He was gray-haired and generally reserved. d.i.c.k had not expected him to indulge in cheap patriotism, but he called the British ensign the meteor flag, defied its enemies, and declared that no hostile fleets could prevent his employers carrying their engagements out. Since the man was obviously sober, d.i.c.k supposed he was touting for business and wanted to a.s.sure the merchants that the sailings of the company's steamers could be relied upon. Still, this kind of thing was not good British form.

By and by Don Sebastian came down a ladder from the saloon deck with Clare behind him. d.i.c.k felt tempted to retire but conquered the impulse and the Spaniard came up.

"I have some business with the purser, who is waiting for me, but cannot find my senora," he explained, and d.i.c.k, knowing that local conventions forbade his leaving Clare alone, understood it as a request that he should take care of her until the other's return.

"I should be glad to stay with Miss Kenwardine," he answered with a bow, and when Don Sebastian went off opened a deck-chair and turned to the girl.

"You see how I was situated!" he said awkwardly.