The Coast of Adventure Part 24

"Oot o' the way, ye dirt! Drap yon deevil wi' the knife!"

Macallister, still singing, swung the leg of the chair and a man went down upon the stones, the knife he held flying from his hand. There was a thud as the captain's champagne bottle descended on somebody's head; and Watson sprang forward, whirling the broken casting. The crowd gave back before his rush and then scattered as Grahame and Walthew appeared in the gap. The fugitives stopped; and during the moment's breathing s.p.a.ce Grahame noticed that a smashed guitar, adorned with gaudy ribbons, hung round Macallister's neck.

"It was yon fool thing made the trouble," Watson explained. "He racked her till she buckled, but she would not keep the tune, and we had to pit her owner below the table. Then an officer wi' a sword would interfere and when he got a bit tap wi' a bottle we were mobbed by the roomful o'

swine."

He paused as somebody threw a stone at him, and then addressed the crowd in warning:

"We'll no' be responsible for what may happen til ye if we lose our tempers!"

The mob had been closing in again, but it fell back when two white-uniformed rural guards with pistols drawn pushed through. Grahame spoke to them in Castilian, and they stopped. While they asked him questions, another man, whom they saluted with respect, joined them.

"It is not permitted to make a disturbance in this city," the official said to Grahame. "We will inquire into the matter to-morrow. You will go on board your vessel now."

"I'm no' going," Watson declared when Grahame translated the order.

"Took a room at Hotel Sevillana, and I want to see the dago who would pit me oot."

"Better humor him," advised the captain. "Obstinate beast when he gets a notion into his head. If he's not on board in the morning, I'll send a boatful of deckhands for him."

Grahame explained that the engineer wished to spend the night ash.o.r.e, and the official looked thoughtful.

"Very well," he said. "One of the guards will see him to his hotel. It is necessary for him to go now."

"Ye can tell him I'm ready," Watson replied, and added in a low voice as he pa.s.sed Grahame: "Get away to sea as soon as she floats!"

He went off with his escort and the official said something aside to the remaining guard, who saluted and told the others to follow him. The crowd had scattered, and n.o.body interfered with the party on their way to the harbor.

"I will wait until I see you go on board," the guard said when they reached the beach. "You will be called upon some time to-morrow."

"They'd have been wiser if they had begun their investigations now,"

Grahame remarked as they launched the dinghy. "She'll be afloat in half an hour. Do you feel up to running the engine, Mack? If not, Walthew must do the best he can."

"I could take her oot if I was drunk and I'm far frae that," Macallister declared. "Looks as if ye had no' allooed for the steadiness o' the Scottish head. Noo, there's Watson, and I'll no' say he was quite sober, but he could spoil yon dago's game. Maybe ye're beginning to understand why he would sleep ash.o.r.e. They think ye canna' get away withoot him."

"I see that," said Grahame. "Better send your fireman to collect your tools when Miguel looses the stern mooring. And try to restrain your feelings if things are not quite right below. It's important that we should get away quietly."

They reached the _Enchantress_, and preparations for departure were silently begun.

They must first slip past the watching fort, and then elude the foreign gunboat. They knew the consequences if they were caught.

CHAPTER XVII

ELUDING THE GUNBOAT

The night was very dark. Here and there a lone star peeped out bravely, but it could shine but faintly through the heavy mist that was settling down over the _Enchantress_.

Grahame, the leadline in his hand, leaned anxiously on the rail, watching the foam boil about the vessel's side. Her keel stirred in the sand and the propeller was beating hard; but she did not move. To make things worse, the disturbed water broke noisily on the beach and the thud of engines could be heard at some distance. Grahame had not complied with the formalities required before leaving port, but he carried a dangerous cargo and he feared that he might be detained unless he got away at once. The _Enchantress_, however, was not yet afloat, and he reluctantly signaled for steam to be shut off.

Walthew came up when the engines stopped, and Grahame sat down on the ledge of the door. It was very quiet when the splash of water died away, and the darkness and silence reacted upon the men's tense nerves. They found inaction singularly hard.

"You have got to take her out the minute she's off the ground," Walthew said. "To be caught getting ready to leave would give us away."

"Sure thing! The Port Captain's guard watches the beach; they've sentries at the fort and a wire to the town; and there's a gunboat in the entrance. Our job doesn't look easy."

"Ye have quarter o' an hour yet, but that's all," Macallister said as he joined them. "If I canna' give the engines steam then, she'll blow off and rouse the town."

They waited anxiously, Grahame glancing at his watch and walking to the rail, where he felt the leadline; but the water rose with exasperating slowness. Then suddenly a jet of steam broke with a m.u.f.fled throb from the escape-pipe, and Macallister jumped up.

"Ye have got to start her noo!" he said.

Walthew followed him below; the engines clanked; the propeller spun; and Grahame hauled the lead in with a breath of relief, for the line grew taut as the vessel moved. Then he stood in the main rigging, where he could see better and where Miguel, at the helm, could watch his signaling hand. With screw throbbing gently, the _Enchantress_ crept away into the dark. Her gray hull would be invisible from the sh.o.r.e, but phosph.o.r.escence blazed about her bows and her wake was a trail of fire.

The tramp steamer rode not far ahead, a mysterious shadowy bulk, with the gleam of her anchor-lights on the water, but as the _Enchantress_ stole past a voice called out to her:

"Good luck!"

Grahame did not answer, but he was grateful. The tramp captain understood why his engineer had stayed ash.o.r.e. Macallister's friends were staunch; the Scots stood by one another.

The light in the plaza grew dim astern, and the blurred, dark beach was rapidly slipping by. There was a lift on the water as they drew near the harbor mouth; but the fort had yet to be pa.s.sed, and Grahame searched the sh.o.r.e with his gla.s.ses. Little by little he made out a formless mound, which grew more distinct. There was no light in the building, but he knew that sentries were supposit.i.tiously keeping watch beside the guns. One or two of these were modern and no vessel was allowed to leave port at night without official permission and a notification to the commandant. If the steamer were seen, refusal to stop would be followed by the roar of a gun. But Grahame did not mean to stop so long as she was not struck.

For the next few minutes he felt his nerves tingle, but the fort was dark and silent and only the soft splash along the beach broke the stillness. The shadowy building dropped astern and he turned his gla.s.ses upon the harbor mouth. Two lights showed where the gunboat lay, and, some distance beyond them, a dim, pulsating radiance glimmered. This marked where the open water swell broke upon the shoals. Grahame hoped that it would cover the _Enchantress's_ luminous wake; besides, the roar of the surf might drown the thud of engines, which carries far on a calm night.

Jumping down from the rigging, he rapped sharply on the engine-hatch, and Walthew ran quickly up the ladder.

"Throttle her down," Grahame said. "If I knock once, stop her; if twice, give her all the steam you can."

Walthew nodded to show that he understood, for it might be dangerous to use the telegraph gong; and then he disappeared below while Grahame stood still, steadying the gla.s.ses on the deckhouse top.

With screw spinning slowly, the _Enchantress_ glided on, and the gunboat's hull grew into shape against the sky. Grahame was glad that he had the land behind him and his vessel was small, but he beckoned Miguel to let her swing insh.o.r.e. There was a shoal on that side, marked by a line of foam; but he must take the risk of going too close.

A phosph.o.r.escent flicker played about the vague blackness of the gunboat's bows; the light from the lamp on her forestay showed part of the deck, and then receded as she rolled. Grahame could make out an anchor hanging ready to let go and a man standing by her rail, until the light reeled and the figure was lost in gloom. It seemed to him that the _Enchantress_ must be seen, and he wondered whether the other vessel had her boats in the water. He suspected that she belonged to the government which Don Martin meant to overthrow, and it would be difficult to get away from her if she had steam up. She was now abreast of him, but there was no sign of activity on board. The _Enchantress_ crept on. The gunboat dropped back to her quarter. Then there was a sudden harsh rattle, and Grahame gasped. But a splash relieved the tension, because he knew it was only the ash-hoist bringing up furnace cinders.

She drew further aft and began to fade; but Grahame now saw danger ahead. The _Enchantress_ was throwing fiery spray about her bows and rolling as she forged slowly through broken water. The shoal was close ahead and, taking a sounding, he found scarcely a fathom under the keel.

This was enough, however, and, beckoning to Miguel, he let her go until the darkness astern was broken only by the gunboat's lights. Then, finding deeper water, he struck the engine-hatch.

"We're clear!" he called down in an exultant voice. "Drive her, but make no sparks!"

The _Enchantress_ began to tremble, and a few moments later loose stanchions rattled and deck-planks shook as she leaped through the long swell with green fire blazing in the wake of her thudding screw. Grahame laughed softly, and sat down to light a cigarette. He imagined that when morning came there would be several badly disappointed intriguers in the port he had left.

He thought it best, however, not to proceed directly to his destination, and it was three days later when he ran in behind a point, and anch.o.r.ed in shallow water. It was daylight, but the _Enchantress's_ gray hull and slender spars would be hard to see against the land, and there was no sign of habitation on the sweep of desolate coast. A cliff rose behind the steamer, and then for some miles the dazzling sea broke in a fringe of lace-like foam on a beach of yellow sand. On the landward side of this, glossy-green jungle rolled away and merged into taller forest that was presently lost in haze. No smoke streaked the horizon, and there was not a boat on the beach, but while Grahame carefully watched, two appeared from behind a reef, and he put down his gla.s.ses with a smile.

"Our friends!" he said to Walthew. "You might get the winch ready while we take the hatches off."

An hour later a small party sat in the shade of the new stern awning.