The Coast of Adventure Part 37

"But how did you and your father come to meet Mr. Walthew, and what is the _Enchantress_ doing on the coast?" she asked.

"You do not know?" There was a hint of gratified superiority in the girl's tone. "She is bringing us the rifles that we need."

Evelyn asked no more questions, because her talk with Blanca had given her much to think about, and when supper was over she sat outside the tent alone. The moon was rising above the tall sierra that ran in a rugged line across the sky. The air was warm and still, and she could hear water splashing down in the bottom of the ravine. Now and then there was a clatter of hoofs as a messenger rode up, and sometimes an order was followed by a patter of feet. Then for a time everything was silent except for a murmur of voices in the inn.

The girl noticed this vacantly, for her mind was busy, and she was filled with a strange excitement. For the last week or two she had borne a heavy strain, and her thoughts had been concentrated on finding a means of escape. Now they were free to dwell upon a greater matter. The struggle that began when she boarded the _Enchantress_ was ended, and she could rejoice in her own defeat, as she had not been quite able to do when, on first surrendering, she had written her note at Rio Frio.

Prudence, ambition, and self-interest were driven from the field; love had utterly routed them. She loved Grahame, and she knew that he loved her, though he had not avowed it yet. Blanca had spoken truly: words were not needed: it was easy to read a man's heart.

Evelyn knew what he thought. He was a poor adventurer, and she was rich.

She blushed with shame, remembering how this had once weighed with her.

Now it did not matter at all. Nothing mattered except that he belonged to her; but while this had never been so plain, it had not dawned on her with a sudden flash. The light had been steadily creeping in for a long time, while she stubbornly tried to shut it out, until she abandoned her futile efforts and let the warming brightness flood her.

Then she thought of Grahame's danger. Don Martin had not received the note. Suppose it had fallen into Gomez's hands. What use might not that half-breed make of it!

Evelyn shuddered, and breathed a half-conscious prayer that Don Martin's messenger might reach her lover in time.

CHAPTER XXV

A TRIAL OF SPEED

Night was falling over the troubled water, and there were threats of a tropical storm. The _Enchantress_, with her anchor down, rolled uneasily on the broken swell. A sandy point ran out to windward, but the combers that beat upon its seaward side with a thunderous roar swirled in a white turmoil round its end and filled the lagoon with an angry heave.

The palms on the landward sh.o.r.e bent in the wind and the dense green jungle behind them rolled in tossing waves of green. To the north, the sky was barred by leaden clouds and the sea-tops cut against it, lividly white.

A trail of smoke whirled about the funnel, now streaming out to lee, now eddying down, for a quant.i.ty of ammunition and contraband material had just been landed, and Grahame was ready to go to sea again. There was some danger in remaining, but the weather was bad, and he half expected fresh instructions from Don Martin.

While he sat smoking in the lee of the deck-house and Walthew leaned against the rail, Macallister looked out of the engine-room door.

"I can give ye steam enough to take her out at half an hour's notice, but if ye're no' likely to need it, I'll bank my fires," he said.

"We won't heave anchor unless we're forced to; it's not an enticing night," Grahame replied, and Walthew nodded, as in the pause that followed he heard the rumble of the surf upon the shoals.

"What do you reckon has been going on inland?" he asked. "The fellows who took the guns ash.o.r.e didn't seem to have much news, but they believed you were right in thinking this might be the last important cargo we'd have to run."

"The Government has arrested Castillo, and no doubt brought pretty strong pressure to bear on him. I'm afraid he couldn't stand up against it, and has given his fellow conspirators away. The President seems no fool, and Gomez is a cunning rascal, but I'm not sure they could keep their plans dark because the opposition have their spies and sympathizers everywhere. The consequence is that both parties may be driven into prompt action instead of quietly finishing their preparations."

"I expect that's so," said Walthew thoughtfully. "I wish I knew, because I must see Don Martin and make a trip to Rio Frio before we leave the coast for good."

"You know best; but I imagine it means trouble with your people when you go home."

"It may, for a time," Walthew answered with a dogged look. "Still, they'll come round, and I'm glad to think that, considering this job as a business proposition, we have done pretty well. That will appeal to the old man. Gun-running's not the line he wanted me to take, but he'll be tickled when he sees that I've made good at it."

"I wouldna' say but he might like Miss Sarmiento as weel as yin o' they hussies at the Florida hotel," Macallister remarked encouragingly.

"There was yin in blue, but no' much o' it, with a flagpole in her hat, that gave me what I've heard ye call the googly eye----"

Walthew chuckled.

"That girl has roomsful of money."

"Then she might hae bought some clothes," the Scotsman retorted.

They were silent for a few minutes, and through the quietness they heard the splash of canoe paddles.

"We may get some news," Walthew said.

The canoe ran alongside, and a half-breed handed up a dirty note.

Grahame opened it, and his jaws set and a curious glint came into his eyes when he read Evelyn's message.

"Where did this come from?" he called sharply to the waiting half-breed.

In his anxiety he had spoken in English.

The messenger shook his head.

"_No entiendo._"

Grahame repeated the question in Spanish, and added: "Tell me quickly!"

"A man brought it down from the hills a half-hour ago. That's all I know," the half-breed explained.

"All right; you may go."

Grahame turned to Walthew and Macallister and showed them the crumpled note.

"I don't think our partnership agreement covers a risky private undertaking of this kind, and you can turn me out, if you like, but I'm going," he said.

"And I'm coming with you," Walthew replied cheerfully. "I've some business of my own at Rio Frio."

"You can't come! How is Mack to run the boat alone?"

"Weel," said Macallister, "I'm thinking that's no' impossible. Onyway, ye'll take him. We'll quarrel about who's to command her if ye leave him on board."

Grahame saw they were both determined; his comrades meant to stand by him, if it cost them the vessel. He was touched, but there was no time to indulge in sentiment.

"We'll talk of it later. Start the windla.s.s and stir the fires. I'll want all the steam you can give me."

"Ye'll get it," Macallister replied, and vanished below, while Grahame went forward when the windla.s.s began to clank and the cable tightened.

Speed was urgently needed. It was several days since the note had been written, and he dared not speculate about what might have happened in the meanwhile. Evelyn was not easily frightened; she would not have sent for him unless the danger was imminent. Then, the postscript stated that a guide would look out for him between midnight and three o'clock in the morning, at a place mentioned, and the _Enchantress_ must be driven hard to get there in time. If she arrived too late, he must steam out to sea before dawn broke and wait for another night.

The windla.s.s rattled faster, the chain ran in as the anchor left the ground, and, seeing Miguel ready with the tackle at the cathead, Grahame went aft to the wheel. The gong clanged the signal "Full ahead," and the screw began to throb. There was a crash forward as the swinging anchor struck the bow, but Miguel had men enough to stow it, and Grahame fixed his eyes ahead as he turned his wheel. Rolling across the broken swell, the _Enchantress_ stemmed the strong flood-tide; bending palms and shadowy beach were sliding past, and the turmoil on the shoals drew nearer. Ahead was a narrow channel with about a fathom of water to the good, but the leading marks were obscured and Grahame doubted if he could find it. If the boat struck, she would be washed up, badly damaged, among the sands; but the tide was rising, and before long Macallister would have raised full steam. It was unthinkable that they should lose time, and Grahame meant to take his chance.

Spray flew about her forward; as the swell got steeper she dipped to the knightheads, and Miguel, running aft, began to use the lead. Grahame did not stop him, although sounding was a matter of form, because she would drive aground before he could bring her head round if he missed the narrow deep.

She crept past the point, rolling wildly and lifting out her screw, while the air got thick with spray and the thud of engines was drowned by the turmoil of the sea. Some distance off, white ridges leaped out of the gathering dark, but nearer at hand they were broken by the shoals and raged in foaming confusion. The _Enchantress_ must cross this belt without much steam to help her, but it was obvious that Macallister was hard at work below, for thick smoke with fiery sparks in it poured from the funnel.