Brandon of the Engineers Part 40

Stuyvesant picked up the gla.s.s 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 gla.s.s from him and drained the last drops. "I think it _is madre de vino_. Pretty heady stuff and that gla.s.s would hold a lot."

Stuyvesant nodded, for it was not a winegla.s.s 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," d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k 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?" d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k 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, n.o.body'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 hoa.r.s.e 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 gla.s.s.

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," d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k 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.

d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k'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."

d.i.c.k, 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 sh.e.l.ls burst on board, killing a seaman and wounding some pa.s.sengers, 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 pa.s.sengers 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 pa.s.sage 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 pa.s.senger 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 d.i.c.k and asked: "Do you know, Brandon?"

"No," said d.i.c.k, 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!"

d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k who said, "I ought to start in the launch to-morrow to get the laborers you want, but I can't go."

"Why?"

d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k with embarra.s.sment. "It comes to that."