The Coast of Adventure Part 6

Grahame bowed and turned away; but somewhat to his surprise, he found his thoughts return to his guest as the launch carried him back to the steamer. The girl was cultured and intelligent, perhaps a little romantic, and unspoiled by luxury; but this was nothing to him. There were times when he felt lonely and outcast from his kind, for until he met Walthew his comrades had generally been rough and broken men. Some years ago he had been a favorite with well-bred women; but he never met them on terms of friendship now. He was poor, and would no doubt remain so, since he had not the gift of making money; but an untrammeled, wandering life had its advantages.

With a smile at his brief relapse into sentiment, he resolved to forget Miss Cliffe; but he found it strangely difficult to occupy his mind with calculations about stores for the coming voyage.

Evelyn related her adventure to her mother, who listened with strong disapproval. Mrs. Cliffe was a thin, keen-eyed woman, with social ambitions and some skill in realizing them.

"If you hadn't been so rash as to go out alone, this wouldn't have happened," she remarked. "You must really be more careful."

"I couldn't prevent the gaff's jambing," Evelyn replied.

"That is not what I meant. After all, n.o.body in the hotel knows much about the matter, and there is, of course, no need to do more than bow to the men if you meet them at the landing, though it would be better to avoid this, if possible. A small favor of the kind they did you does not justify their claiming your acquaintance."

"Father wanted to bring one of them here."

"Your father is a man of business, and has very little discretion in social matters," Mrs. Cliffe replied. "If Reggie cannot go with you, take the hotel boatman when you next go sailing."

Evelyn did not answer, but she disagreed with the views her mother had expressed, and she resolved to leave Reggie ash.o.r.e. For one thing, he was not of much use in a boat. Yet it was curious that she had once been pleased to take him out.

CHAPTER V

THE CALL OF THE UNKNOWN

The sea breeze had fallen, and the air was hot and still. A full moon rested low in the eastern sky, and against its light the tops of the royal palms cut in feathery silhouette. Evelyn was sitting in the hotel garden with Reginald Gore. A dusky rose arbor hid them from the veranda, where a number of the guests had gathered, but Evelyn imagined that one or two of the women knew where she was and envied her. This once would have afforded her some satisfaction, but it did not matter now, and although the spot seemed made for confidential talk, she listened quietly to the rollers breaking on the beach. The roar of the surf had a disturbing effect; she felt that it called, urging her to follow her star and launch out on the deep. Her companion was silent, and she wondered what he was thinking about, or if, as seemed more likely, his mind was vacant. She found him irritating to-night.

Gore was the finished product of a luxurious age: well-bred, well-taught, and tastefully dressed. His father had made a fortune out of railroad stock, and although Reginald had not the ability to increase it, he spent it with prudence. He had a good figure, and a pleasant face, but Evelyn suspected that his highest ambition was to lounge through life gracefully.

Evelyn knew her mother's plans regarding him, and had, to some extent, fallen in with them. Reggie had much that she valued to offer, but she now and then found him tiresome. He stood for the luxurious, but, in a sense, artificial life, with which she was growing dissatisfied. She felt that she wanted stirring, and must get into touch with the real things.

"You're not talkative," she remarked, watching the lights of the _Enchantress_ that swung and blinked with the tossing swell.

"No," he agreed good-humoredly. "Doesn't seem to be much to talk about."

There was silence for a few moments; then Evelyn put into words a train of thoughts that was forming indistinctly in her mind.

"You have never done anything very strenuous in life. You have had all the pleasure money can provide one. Are you content?"

"On the whole, yes. Aren't you?"

"No," said Evelyn thoughtfully. "I believe I haven't really been content for a long time, but I didn't know it. The mind can be doped, but the effect wears off and you feel rather startled when you come to yourself."

Gore nodded.

"I know! Doesn't last, but it's disturbing. When I feel like that, I take a soothing drink."

Evelyn laughed, for his answer was characteristic. He understood, to some extent, but she did not expect him to sympathize with the restlessness that had seized her. Reggie would never do anything rash or unconventional. Hitherto she had approved his caution. She had enjoyed the comfortable security of her station, had shared her mother's ambitions, and looked upon marriage as a means of rising in the social scale. Her adventurous temperament had found some scope in exciting sports and in an occasional flirtation that she did not carry far; but she was now beginning to feel that life had strange and wonderful things to offer those who had the courage to seize them. She had never experienced pa.s.sion--perhaps because her training had taught her to dread it; but her imagination was now awake.

Her visit to the _Enchantress_ had perhaps had something to do with these disturbing feelings, but not, she argued, because she was sentimentally attracted by her rescuer. It was the mystery in which Grahame's plans were wrapped that was interesting. He was obviously the leader of the party and about to engage in some rash adventure on seas the buccaneers had sailed. This, of course, was nothing to her; but thinking of him led her to wonder whether she might not miss much by clinging too cautiously to what she knew was safe.

With a soft laugh she turned to Gore.

"Tell me about the dance they're getting up. I hear you are one of the stewards," she said.

It was a congenial topic, and as she listened to her companion's talk Evelyn felt that she was being drawn back to secure, familiar ground.

Cliffe, in the meanwhile, had come out in search of her and, seeing how she was engaged, had strolled into the hotel bar. A tall, big-boned man, dressed in blue serge with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons on his jacket, was talking at large, and Cliffe, stopping to listen, thought the tales he told with dry Scottish humor were good.

"You are the engineer who mended the gaff of my daughter's boat," Cliffe said. "I must thank you for that; it was a first-rate job."

"It might have been worse," Macallister modestly replied. "Are ye a mechanic then?"

"No; but I know good work when I see it."

"I'm thinking that's a gift, though ye may not use it much. It's no'

good work the world's looking for."

"True," agreed Cliffe; "perhaps we're too keen on what will pay."

"Ye mean what will pay the first user. An honest job is bound to pay somebody in the end."

"Well, I guess that's so. You're a philosopher."

Macallister grinned.

"I have been called worse names, and maybe with some cause. Consistency gets monotonous. It's better to be a bit of everything, as the humor takes ye."

"What kind of engines has your boat?" Cliffe asked. He was more at home when talking practical matters.

"As fine a set o' triples as I've clapped my eyes upon, though they have been shamefully neglect.i.t."

"And what speed can you get out of her?"

"A matter o' coal," Macallister answered with a twinkle. "A seven-knot bat will suit our purse best."

Cliffe saw that further questions on this point would be injudicious, but the man interested him, and he noted the flag on his b.u.t.tons.

"Well," he said, "the _Enchantress_ must be a change from the liners you have sailed in."

"I find that. But there's aye some compensation. I have tools a man can work with, and oil that will keep her running smooth. Ye'll maybe ken there's a difference in engine stores."

"I've heard my manufacturing friends say something of the kind."

Cliffe ordered refreshment, and quietly studied his companion. The man had not the reserve he a.s.sociated with the Scot, but a dash and a reckless humor, which are, nevertheless, essentially Scottish too.

Cliffe wondered curiously what enterprise he and his companions were engaged upon, but he did not think Macallister would tell him. If the others were like this fellow, he imagined that they would carry out their plans, for he read resolution as well as daring in the Scot's character; besides, he had been favorably impressed by Grahame.

After some further talk, Macallister left, and Cliffe joined his wife and daughter.