Fitz the Filibuster Part 32

"Hacienda?" said Poole. "That means a sort of farm, doesn't it, father?"

"Yes, my boy, and of course that's just the sort of place to deliver a cargo of such agricultural implements as we have brought on board. What do you say, Mr Burnett?"

"Agricultural implements, sir? Why, Captain Glossop had notice that you had taken in guns and ammunition."

"Oh yes; people do gossip so," said the skipper dryly. "I didn't examine them much myself, but I know there were things with wheels."

"But there was a lot of powder, sir--kegs of it, I heard."

"Chemical manure perhaps, my lad; potash and charcoal and sulphur perhaps to kill the blight. Must be innocent stuff, or else my old friend Don Ramon would not want it at his farm."

"I don't understand," said the middy.

"Well, it doesn't matter," cried Poole, laughing. "Go on, father."

"That's what we are doing, my boy. But you go on with your breakfast, Mr Burnett, and make a good one while you have a chance. We may be getting news any minute that the gunboat is in sight; and if it is, there's no knowing when we shall get a square meal again."

"But whereabouts is this Oltec River, father?"

"Well, as near as I can tell you, my boy, it's on the coast about thirty miles by sea from Velova, though only about half the distance through one of the mountain-pa.s.ses by land. We ought to have been there now, and I dare say we should have been if Mr Burgess had not run us on to a rock. But that fellow going overboard quite upset my plans. It was a great nuisance, and I seemed to be obliged to heave-to, and wait to see if you people would come back on board."

"Yes, father, I suppose so," said Poole coolly.

"Done eating, you two?"

The lads both rose, and the whole party went on deck to scan their position, the lads finding the schooner gliding along southward before a pleasant breeze, while miles away on the starboard-bow a dim line marked the coast, which seemed rugged and broken up into mountain and vale; but there was no sign of gunboat nor a sail of any kind, and Poole breathed more freely.

"One's so helpless," he said to his companion, "on a coast like this, where one time you have a nice sailing wind, and the next hour it has dropped into a calm, so that a steamer has you quite at its mercy."

"Yes," said Fitz dryly; "but I don't see that it matters when you have nothing on board but agricultural implements and chemical manures. What business is it of the gunboat?"

"Ah, what indeed?" cried Poole, laughing. "It's a piece of impudence, isn't it, to want to interfere! But I say, Burnett, what father says sounds well, doesn't it--a hacienda at the mouth of a river, and a mountain-pa.s.s? That means going ash.o.r.e and seeing something, if we are in luck. I do know that the country's glorious here, from the peep or two I once had. My word! People think because you go sailing about the world you must see all kinds of wonders, when all the time you get a peep or two of some dirty port without going ash.o.r.e, and all your travels are up and down the deck of your ship--and nothing else but sea."

"I wish I could get landed at some big port," said Fitz bitterly. "I wouldn't call it dirty."

"My word, what a fellow you are!" said Poole. "Grumbling again!"

"Grumbling!" cried Fitz hotly. "Isn't it enough to make any one grumble, dragged off my ship a prisoner like this?"

"No," cried Poole. "Why, some chaps would call it grand. Now you've got about well again it's all a big lark for you. Every one's trying to make you comfortable. Look at the adventures you are going through!

Look at last night! Why, it was all fine, now that we have got through it as we did. You can't say you didn't like that."

"Well, no," said Fitz; "it was exciting."

"So it is now. The gunboat's safe to be after us, and here we are, going to take refuge up a river in perhaps no end of a wild country at the Don's hacienda. Who knows what adventures we are going to have next!"

"Not likely to be many adventures at a muddy farm."

"How do you know?"

"Because I pretty well know what a farm is."

"Not a Central American one, my fine fellow. I dare say you will have to open your eyes wider than you think."

"Perhaps so," said Fitz, who was growing more good-humoured over his companion's frank, genial ways; "but I feel more disposed to shut my eyes up now, and to have a good sleep."

"Oh, don't do that! There will be plenty of time when it gets dark, and before then I hope we shall be off the river. We are slipping along pretty quickly now, and old Burgess is creeping closer in. That's his artfulness; it means looking out for creeks and islands, places where we could hide if the gunboat came into sight, or sneaking into shallows where she couldn't follow. The old man knows what he is about, and so does father too. Here, let's go and fetch a gla.s.s and get up aloft. I want to make out what the coast is like."

The binocular was fetched from the cabin, and the lads mounted the rigging as high as they could to get comfortably perched, and then shared the gla.s.s, turn and turn, to come to the conclusion that every knot they crept along through the shallow sea brought them more and more abreast of a district that looked wild and beautiful in the extreme: low mountain gorge and ravine, beautiful forest clothing the slopes, and parts where the country was green with the waving trees almost to the water's-edge.

And so the day slipped by, and the sun began to sink just as they glided into a narrow sheltered estuary, which, as far as they could make out, ran like a jagged gash inland; and an hour later the schooner was at anchor behind a headland which completely bid them from the open sea.

"There," cried Poole, turning to the middy, who was sweeping the forest-clad slopes on either hand, "what do you think of this?"

"Lovely!" cried Fitz enthusiastically, forgetting all his troubles in the wondrous tropic beauty of the golden sh.o.r.es.

"Come on, then. I don't know what Andy has got us for supper, but it smells uncommonly good."

"Supper!" said the middy, in tones of disgust. "Why, you can't leave a scene like this to go and eat?"

"Can't I?" cried Poole. "Do you mean to tell me that you are not hungry too?"

"Well, no," said Fitz, slowly, closing the gla.s.s; "I don't think I can.

I didn't know how bad I was until you spoke."

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

A TROPIC RIVER.

Strict watch was set, no lights were shown, and a quiet, uneventful night was pa.s.sed, the boys sleeping so hard that it was with some difficulty that they were awakened, to start up wondering that it was day.

"Why," cried Fitz, "I feel as if I had only just lain down."

It proved, though, that they had each had nine hours' solid sleep, and after a hasty breakfast, preparations were made for ascending the river.

The men were armed, the largest boat lowered, and Fitz hung about watching eagerly all that was going on; but, too proud to ask questions, he waited to see how matters would shape themselves.

As he expected, Poole came to him after a time, and in answer to the middy's questioning looks said eagerly--

"The Don's hacienda is right up this river somewhere, and the dad is going up in a boat with about half the lads, to see how the land lies, while old Burgess stops at home and takes care of the _Teal_. And I suppose he will have to take care of you too, you being a prisoner who don't take any interest in what we do. What do you think?"

"Think? That I shouldn't do any harm if I came with you, should I?"

"Well, I don't know," said Poole, with mock seriousness. "You wouldn't like to come too with me?" Fitz looked at him blankly.

"It's going to be quite an expedition. The lads are going to have rifles and plenty of ammunition; revolvers too. I am going to have the same, because there is no knowing what sort of fellows we may meet.

But, as the dad says, if they see we are well-armed they won't meddle with us. In these revolutionary times, though, every one is on the rampage and spoiling for a fight. Pity you can't go with us." Fitz was silent.