Brandon of the Engineers Part 45

It was getting dark when he awoke and crept into the c.o.c.kpit. There was a change in the motion, for the launch did not roll so much and the combers no longer broke in showers of spray against her side. She swung up with a swift but easy lift, the foam boiling high about her rail, and then gently slid down into the trough. It was plain that she was running before the wind, but Jake felt that he must pull himself together when he looked aft, for there is something strangely daunting in a big following sea. A high, white-topped ridge rolled up behind the craft, roaring as it chased her, while a stream of spray blew from its curling crest. It hid the rollers that came behind; there was nothing to be seen but a hill of water, and Jake found it a relief to fix his eyes ahead. The backs of the seas were smoother and less disturbing to watch as they faded into the gathering dark. When the comber pa.s.sed, he turned to d.i.c.k, who stood, alert and highly strung, at the helm.

"You're heading for the land," he said. "What are you steering by?"

"I got the bearing of a point I thought I recognized on the chart before I lost sight of the coast. There's a long reef outsh.o.r.e of it, with a break near the point. If we can get through, we might find shelter."

"Suppose there's something wrong with your bearing, or you can't make good your course?"

"Then there'll be trouble," d.i.c.k answered grimly. "We'll have the reef to lee and she won't steam out again."

Jake put a kettle on the cylinder-top and took some provisions from a locker. He was hungry and thought he might need all the strength he had, while he did not want to look at the sea. The pump was clanking hard, but he could hear the water wash about under the floorings, and the launch was very wet. Darkness fell as he prepared a meal with the fireman's help, and they ate by the dim light of the engine-lamp, while d.i.c.k, to whom they handed portions, crouched at the helm, gazing close into the illuminated compa.s.s. Sometimes he missed the food they held out and it dropped and was washed into the pump-well, but he ate what he could without moving his eyes.

Since he must find the opening in the reef, much depended on his steering an accurate course, but this was difficult, because he had to bear away before the largest combers. Moreover, the erratic motion of a short boat in broken water keeps the compa.s.s-card rocking to and fro, and long practise is needed to hit the mean of its oscillations. As a matter of fact, d.i.c.k knew he was leaving much to luck.

After a time, they heard a hoa.r.s.e roar. Since the sound would not carry far to windward, they knew the reef was close ahead, but where the opening lay was another matter. d.i.c.k had no guide except the compa.s.s, and as the launch would probably swamp if he tried to bring her round head to sea, he must run on and take the risk. By and by, Jake, straining his eyes to pierce the gloom, called out as he saw a ghostly white glimmer to starboard. This was the surf spouting on the reef and if it marked the edge of the channel, they would be safe in going to port; if not, the launch would very shortly be hurled upon the barrier.

d.i.c.k stood up and gazed ahead. The white patch was getting plainer, but he could see nothing else. There was, however, a difference in the motion, and the sea was confused. He ordered the engine to be slowed, and they ran on until the belt of foam bore abeam. They must be almost upon the reef now, or else in the channel, and for the next minute or two n.o.body spoke. If they had missed the gap, the first warning would be a shock, and then the combers that rolled up behind them would destroy the stranded craft.

She did not strike; the surf was level with her quarter, and Jake, thrusting down a long boathook, found no bottom. In another minute or two the water suddenly got smooth, and he threw down the boathook.

"We're through," he said in a strained voice. "The reef's astern."

"Try the hand-lead," d.i.c.k ordered him, as he changed his course, since he was apparently heading for the beach.

Jake got four fathoms and soon afterwards eighteen feet, when d.i.c.k stopped the engine and the launch rolled upon the broken swell. A dark streak that looked like forest indicated the land, and a line of foam that glimmered with phosph.o.r.escent light ran outsh.o.r.e of them. Now they were to lee of the reef, the hoa.r.s.e clamor of the surf rang about the boat. Unfolding the chart, they studied it by the engine-lamp. It was on too small a scale to give many details, but they saw that the reef ran roughly level with the coast and ended in a nest of shoals near a point.

"We could ride out a gale here," Jake remarked.

"We could, if we wanted," d.i.c.k replied.

Jake looked at him rather hard and then made a sign of resignation.

"Well, I guess I've had enough, but if you're going on---- How do you reckon you'll get through the shoals ahead?"

"I imagine some of them are mangrove islands, and if so, there'll be a channel of a sort between them. In fact, the chart the broker showed me indicated something of the kind. With good luck we may find it."

"Very well," said Jake. "I'm glad to think it will be a soft bottom if we run aground."

They went on, keeping, so far as they could judge, midway between reef and beach, but after a time the lead showed shoaling water and Jake used the boathook instead. Then the sky cleared and a half-moon came out, and they saw haze and the loom of trees outsh.o.r.e of them. Slowing the engine, they moved on cautiously while the water gradually got shallower, until glistening banks of mud began to break the surface. Then they stopped the engine, but found the launch still moved forward.

"I imagine it's about four hours' flood," d.i.c.k remarked. "That means the water will rise for some time yet, and although the current's with us now I think we can't be far off the meeting of the tides."

Jake nodded. In places of the kind, the stream often runs in from both ends until it joins and flows in one direction from the shoalest spot.

"Then we ought to find a channel leading out on the other side."

They let the engine run for a few minutes until the boat touched bottom and stuck fast in the mud. The wind seemed to be falling and the roar of the surf had got fainter. Thin haze dimmed the moonlight and there were strange splashings in the water that gently lapped about the belts of mud. The stream stopped running, but seeing no pa.s.sage they waited and smoked.

"If we can get out on the other side, we oughtn't to be very far from the lagoon," Jake suggested.

Presently there was a faint rippling against the bows and the launch began to swing round.

"The tide's coming through from the other end," said d.i.c.k. "We may find a channel if we can push her across the mud."

For half an hour they laboriously poled her with a long oar and the boathook between the banks of mire. Sometimes she touched and stuck until the rising water floated her off, and sometimes she sc.r.a.ped along the bottom, but still made progress. They were breathless and soaked with perspiration, while the foul sc.u.m that ran off the oar stained their damp clothes. Then Jake's boathook sank a foot or two deeper and finding the depth as good after a few vigorous pushes, they started the engine.

Sour exhalations rose from the wake of the churning screw and there was a curious dragging feel in the boat's motion, as if she were pulling a body of water after her, but this was less marked when Jake found three or four feet, and by and by he threw down the pole and they went half-speed ahead. After a time, the mangroves outsh.o.r.e got farther off, the air smelt fresher, and small ripples broke the surface of the widening channel. They went full-speed, the trees faded, and a swell that set her rocking met the boat, although there still seemed to be a barrier of sand or mud between her and open sea.

Giving Jake the helm, d.i.c.k crawled under the foredeck, where the floorings were drier than anywhere else, and lay smoking and thinking until day broke. The light, which grew brighter rapidly, showed a glistening line of surf to seaward and mangrove forest on a point ahead.

Beyond this there seemed to be an inlet, and then the sh.o.r.e curved out again. As they pa.s.sed the point d.i.c.k stood up on deck and presently saw two tall spars rise above the mist. A few minutes later, the top of a funnel appeared, and then a sharp metallic rattle rang through the haze.

"We're in the lagoon," he said. "That's the Danish boat and she hasn't finished heaving cargo on board."

CHAPTER XXIX

KENWARDINE TAKES A RISK

Shortly after the launch entered the lagoon, the Danish boat hove her anchor and steamed out to sea. d.i.c.k, who had engaged a half-breed pilot to take the launch home, lounged in a canvas chair under the p.o.o.p awning.

His eyes were half closed, for the white boats and deckhouses flashed dazzlingly in the strong light as the steamer lurched across the vivid swell of the Caribbean. The cigarette he languidly held had gone out, and his pose was slack.

He was physically tired and his brain was dull, but he was conscious of lethargic satisfaction. For a long time he had been torn between his love for Clare and his duty to his country. His difficulties were further complicated by doubts of Kenwardine's guilt, but recent events had cleared these up. It was, on the whole, a relief to feel that he must now go forward and there need be no more hesitation and balancing of probabilities. The time for that had gone and his course was plain. He must confront Kenwardine with a concise statement of his share in the plot and force from him an undertaking that he would abandon his traitorous work.

This might be difficult, but d.i.c.k did not think he would fail. Don Sebastian, who perhaps knew more than he did, was to meet him at a Cuban port, and the Spaniard could be trusted to handle the matter with skill.

There was no direct communication between Santa Brigida and Kingston, but steamers touched at the latter place when making a round of other ports, which would enable d.i.c.k and his ally to join Kenwardine's boat at her last call. If either of them had gone on board at Santa Brigida, Kenwardine would have left the ship at the next port.

Since he had sailed on an English steamer, bound for British territory, he would be subject to British law when they met, and they could, if needful, have him arrested. d.i.c.k admitted that this ought to be done to begin with, but had not decided about it yet. He would wait and be guided by events. The British officials might doubt his story and decline to interfere, but Kenwardine could not count on that, because Don Sebastian was armed with credentials from the President of a friendly state.

d.i.c.k, however, dismissed the matter. He was tired in mind and body, and did not mean to think of anything important until he met Kenwardine. By and by his head grew heavy, and resting it on the back of his chair, he closed his eyes. When Jake came up, followed by a steward carrying two tall gla.s.ses of frothing liquor, he saw that his comrade was fast asleep.

"You can put them down," he told the steward. "I'm thirsty enough to empty both, but you can bring some more along when my partner wakes."

After this he took a black seaman, who was making some noise as he swept the p.o.o.p, by the arm and firmly led him to the other side of the deck.

Then he drained the gla.s.ses with a sigh of satisfaction, and lighting a cigarette, sat down near d.i.c.k's feet. He did not mean to sleep, but when he got up with a jerk as the lunch bell rang he saw d.i.c.k smiling.

"Have I been sitting there all this time?" he asked.

"No," said d.i.c.k. "You were lying flat on deck when I woke up an hour ago." Then he indicated the two gla.s.ses, which had rolled into the scupper channel. "I shouldn't be surprised if those accounted for it."

"Perhaps they did," Jake owned, grinning. "Anyhow, we'll have some more, with a lump of ice in it, before we go down to lunch."

The Danish boat met fine weather as she leisurely made her way across the Caribbean, and after an uneventful voyage, d.i.c.k and Jake landed at a port in Cuba. The British steamer from Santa Brigida had not arrived, but the agent expected her in the evening, and they found Don Sebastian waiting them at a hotel he had named. When it was getting dark they walked to the end of the harbor mole and sat down to watch for the vessel.

Rows of the lights began to twinkle, one behind the other, at the head of the bay, and music drifted across the water. A bright glow marked the plaza, where a band was playing, but the harbor was dark except for the glimmer of anchor-lights on the oily swell. The occasional rattle of a winch, jarring harshly on the music, told that the Danish boat was working cargo. A faint, warm breeze blew off the land, and there was a flicker of green and blue phosph.o.r.escence as the sea washed about the end of the mole.

"I wonder how you'll feel if Kenwardine doesn't come," Jake said presently, looking at d.i.c.k, who did not answer.