the day's task on the light-house was finished and the other workmen
had returned to the city, these three men remained behind and,
placing crowbars, picks, and sticks of dynamite in Roddy's launch,
proceeded to a little inlet a half-mile below El Morro. By seven
o'clock they had made their way through the laurel to the fortress,
and while Roddy and Peter acted as lookouts McKildrick attacked the
entrance to the tunnel. He did not, as he had boasted, open it in an
hour, but by ten o'clock the iron bars that held the slabs together
had been cut and the cement loosened. Fearful of the consequences if
they returned to the city at too late an hour, the tools and dynamite
were hidden, rubbish and vines were so scattered as to conceal the
evidence of their work, and the launch landed the conspirators at
Roddy's wharf.
"We shall say," explained Roddy, "that we have been out spearing eels,
and I suggest that we now go to the _Dos Hermanos_ and say it."
They found the cafe, as usual, crowded. Men of all political opinions,
officers of the army and the custom-house, from the tiny warship in
the harbor, Vegaistas, and those who secretly were adherents of Rojas,
were all gathered amicably together. The Americans, saluting
impartially their acquaintances, made their way to a table that
remained empty in the middle of the room. They had hardly seated
themselves when from a distant corner an alert young man, waving his
hand in greeting, pushed his way toward them. They recognized the
third vice-president of the Forrester Construction Company, Mr. Sam
Caldwell.
Mr. Caldwell had arrived that afternoon. He was delighted at being
free of the ship. At the house of Colonel Vega he had dined well, and
at sight of familiar faces he was inclined to unbend. He approached
the employees of the company as one conferring a favor and assured of
a welcome. He appreciated that since his arrival he was the man of the
moment. In the crowded restaurant every one knew him as the
representative of that great corporation that had dared to lock horns
with the government. As he passed the tables the officers of that
government followed him with a scowl or a sneer; those of the
Vegaistas, who looked upon him as the man who dealt out money,
ammunition and offices, with awe. How the secret supporters of Rojas
considered him was soon to appear.
"This," Roddy whispered in a quick aside, "is where I renounce the F.
C. C. and all its works."
"Don't be an ass!" entreated Peter.
Roddy rose and, with his hands sunk in his pockets, awaited the
approach of the third vice-president.
"Well, boys, here I am!" called that young man heartily. He seemed to
feel that his own surprise at finding himself outside the limits of
Greater New York must be shared by all. But, as though to see to whom
this greeting was extended, Roddy turned and glanced at his
companions.
McKildrick rose and stood uncomfortably.
"Well, Roddy," exclaimed Sam Caldwell genially, "how's business?"
Roddy's eyebrows rose.
"'Roddy?'" he repeated, as though he had not heard aright. "Are you
speaking to me?"
Sam Caldwell was conscious that over all the room there had come a
sudden hush. A waiter, hurrying with a tray of jingling glasses, by
some unseen hand was jerked by the apron and brought to abrupt
silence. In the sudden quiet Roddy's voice seemed to Caldwell to have
come through a megaphone. The pink, smooth-shaven cheeks of the
newcomer, that were in such contrast to the dark and sun-tanned faces
around him, turned slowly red.
"What's the idea?" he asked.
"You sent me a cable to Curacao," Roddy replied, "telling me to mind
my own business."
It had never been said of Sam Caldwell that he was an unwilling or
unworthy antagonist. He accepted Roddy's challenge promptly. His
little, piglike eyes regarded Roddy contemptuously.
"I did," he retaliated, "at your father's dictation."
"Well, my business hours," continued Roddy undisturbed, "are between
eight and five. If you come out to the light-house to-morrow you will
see me minding my own business and bossing a gang of niggers, at
twenty dollars a week. Outside of business hours I choose my own
company."
Caldwell came closer to him and dropped his voice.
"Are you sober?" he demanded.
"Perfectly," said Roddy.
Caldwell surveyed him grimly.
"You are more out of hand than we thought," he commented. "I have
heard some pretty strange tales about you this afternoon. Are they
true?"
"You have your own methods of finding out," returned Roddy. He waved
his hand toward the table. "If you wish to join these gentlemen I am
delighted to withdraw."
Caldwell retreated a few steps and then turned back angrily.
"I'll have a talk with you to-morrow," he said, "and to-night I'll
cable your father what you are doing here."
Roddy bowed and slightly raised his voice, so that it reached to every
part of the room.
"If you can interest my father," he said, "in anything that concerns
his son I shall be grateful."
As Caldwell made his way to the door, and Roddy, frowning gravely,
sank back into his chair, the long silence was broken by a babble of
whispered questions and rapid answers. Even to those who understood
no English the pantomime had been sufficiently enlightening.
Unobtrusively the secret agents of Alvarez rose from the tables and
stole into the night. A half-hour later it was known in Caracas that
the son of Mr. Forrester had publicly insulted the representative of
his father, the arch-enemy of the government, and had apparently
ranged himself on the side of Alvarez. Hitherto the _Dos Hermanos_ had
been free from politics, but as Roddy made his exit from the cafe, the
officers of the army chose the moment for a demonstration. Revolution
was in the air, and they desired to declare their loyalty. Rising to
their feet and raising their glasses to Roddy they cried, "Bravo,
bravo! Viva Alvarez!"
Bowing and nodding to them and wishing them good-night, Roddy hurried
to the street.
Under the lamps of the Alameda McKildrick regarded him quizzically.
"And what do you gain by that?" he asked.
"Well, I force Sam into the open," declared Roddy, "and I'm no longer
on the suspect list. Look at my record! I've insulted everybody. I
have insulted Rojas, insulted Vega, insulted Caldwell, all enemies of
Alvarez. So now the Alvarez crowd will love me. Now they trust me! If
they caught me digging the tunnel and I told them I was building a
light-house, they'd believe me. If I insult a few more people they'll
give me the Order of Bolivar."
The next morning Roddy attended Mass. But he was not entirely
engrossed in his devotions. Starting from the front entrance of the
church he moved slowly nearer and nearer to the altar, and, slipping
from the shelter of one pillar to another, anxiously scanned the rows
of kneeling women. He found the mantilla a baffling disguise, and as
each woman present in the church wore one, and as the hair of each was
black, and as the back of the head of one woman is very much like that
of another, it was not until the worshippers had turned to leave that
he discovered the Senorita Inez Rojas. In her black satin dress, with
her face wreathed by the black lace mantilla, Roddy thought he had
never seen her look more beautiful.
After her explicit commands that he should not attempt to see her
again he was most anxious she should not learn how soon he had
disobeyed her; and that she was walking with her sister and mother
made it still more necessary that he should remain unnoticed.
But in his eagerness and delight in the sight of her he leaned far
forward. Inez, at that instant raising her eyes, saw him. Of the two
Roddy was the more concerned. The girl made no sign of recognition,
but the next moment, with an exclamation, she suddenly unclasped her
hands, and, as though to show they were empty, held them toward her
mother and sister. Leaving them, she returned hurriedly toward the
altar. Senora Rojas and the sister continued on their way toward the
door, exchanging greetings with the women of their acquaintance, whom,
after an absence of two years, they now met for the first time. Seeing
them thus engaged Inez paused and, turning, looked directly at Roddy.
Her glance was not forbidding, and Roddy, who needed but little
encouragement, hastened to follow. The church was very dark. The
sunlight came only through the lifted curtains at the farthest
entrance, and the acolytes were already extinguishing the candles
that had illuminated the altar. As Inez, in the centre of the church,
picked her way among the scattered praying-chairs, Roddy, in the side
aisle and hidden by the pillars, kept pace with her.
Directly in front of the altar Inez stooped, and, after picking up a
fan and a prayer-book, stood irresolutely looking about her. Roddy
cautiously emerged from the side aisle and from behind the last of the
long row of pillars. Inez came quickly toward him. The last of the
acolytes to leave the altar, in their haste to depart, stumbled and
tripped past them, leaving them quite alone. Concealed by the great
pillar from all of those in the far front of the church, Inez gave
Roddy her hand. The eyes that looked into his were serious, penitent.
"I am so sorry," she begged; "can you forgive me?"
"Forgive you!" whispered Roddy. His voice was filled with such delight
that it was apparently a sufficient answer. Inez, smiling slightly,
withdrew her hand, and taking from inside her glove a folded piece of
paper, thrust it toward him.
"I brought this for you," she said.
Roddy seized it greedily.
"For me!" he exclaimed in surprise. As though in apology for the
question he raised his eyes appealingly. "How did you know," he
begged, "that I would be here?"
For an instant, with a frown, the girl regarded him steadily. Then her
cheeks flushed slightly and her eyes grew radiant. She flashed upon
him the same mocking, dazzling smile that twice before had left him in
complete subjection.
"How did you know," she returned, "_I_ would be here?"
She moved instantly from him, but Roddy started recklessly in pursuit.
"Wait!" he demanded. "Just what does that mean?"
With an imperative gesture the girl motioned him back, and then, as
though to soften the harshness of the gesture, reassured him in a
voice full of consideration.
"The note will tell you," she whispered, and, turning her back on him,
hurried to the door.
Roddy allowed her sufficient time in which to leave the neighborhood
of the church, and while he waited, as the most obvious method of
expressing his feelings, stuffed all the coins in his pockets into the
poor-box. From the church he hastened to an empty bench in the
Alameda, and opened the note. He was surprised to find that it came
from Mrs. Broughton, the wife of the English Consul at Porto Cabello.
She was an American girl who, against the advice of her family, had
married an Englishman, and one much older than herself. Since their
marriage he had indulged and spoiled her as recklessly as any American
might have done, and at the same time, in his choice of a wife, had
continued to consider himself a most fortunate individual. Since his
arrival at Porto Cabello Roddy had been a friend of each. For hours he
would play in the garden with their children, without considering it
necessary to inform either the father or mother that he was on the
premises; and on many evenings the Broughtons and himself sat in his
_patio_ reading the American periodicals, without a word being spoken
by any one of them until they said good-night. But since his return
from Curacao, Roddy had been too occupied with coming events to
remember old friends.
The note read:
"DEAR MR. FORRESTER: My husband and I have not seen you for
ages, and the children cry for 'Uncle Roddy.' Will you and
Mr. De Peyster take tea with us day after to-morrow? The
only other friend who is coming _will give you this note_."
The Broughtons had been stationed at Porto Cabello for five years,
and, as Roddy now saw, it was most natural that in the limited social
life of Porto Cabello the two American girls should be friends. That
he had not already thought of the possibility of this filled him with
rage, and, at the same time, the promise held forth by the note
thrilled him with pleasure. He leaped to his feet and danced
jubilantly upon the gravel walk. Tearing the note into scraps he
hurled them into the air.
"Mary Broughton!" he exclaimed ecstatically, "you're a brick!"
Such was his feeling of gratitude to the lady, that he at once sought
out a confectioner's and sent her many pounds of the candied fruits
that have made Venezuela famous, and that, on this occasion, for
several days made the Broughton children extremely ill.
That night the attack on the barricade to the tunnel was made with a
vigor no cement nor rusty iron could resist. Inspired by the thought
that on the morrow he would see Inez, and that she herself wished to
see him, and anxious to give her a good report of the work of rescue,
Roddy toiled like a coal-passer. His energy moved McKildrick and Peter
to endeavors equally strenuous, and by nine o'clock the great stone
slabs were wedged apart, and on the warm-scented night air and upon
the sweating bodies of the men there struck a cold, foul breath that
told them one end of the tunnel lay open.
VII
Roddy was for at once dashing down the stone steps and exploring the
tunnel, but McKildrick held him back.
"You couldn't live for a moment," he protested, "and it may be days
before we can enter." In proof of what he said, he lit one wax match
after another, and as he passed each over the mouth of the tunnel
Roddy saw the flame sicken and die.
"That has been a tomb for half a century," McKildrick reminded him.
"Even if a strong, young idiot like you could breathe that air, Rojas
couldn't."
"All the same, I am going down," said Roddy.
"And I tell you, you are not!" returned McKildrick.
Roddy, jubilant and grandly excited, laughed mockingly.
"'Am _I_ the Governor of these Isles, or is it an Emilio Aguinaldo?'"
he demanded. "This is _my_ expedition, and I speak to lead the forlorn
hope."
Exclaiming with impatience, McKildrick brought a rope and, making a
noose, slipped it under Roddy's arms.
"All we ask," he said grimly, "is that when you faint you'll fall with
your head toward us. Otherwise we will bump it into a jelly."
Roddy switched on the light in his electric torch and, like a diver
descending a sea-ladder, moved cautiously down the stone steps.
Holding the rope taut, Peter leaned over the opening.
"When the snakes and bats and vampires get you," he warned, "you'll
wish you were back among the sharks!"
But Roddy did not hear him. As though warding off a blow he threw his
hands across his face and dropped heavily.
"Heave!" cried Peter.
The two men sank their heels in the broken rubbish and dragged on the
rope until they could lay violent hands on Roddy's shoulders. With
unnecessary roughness they pulled him out of the opening and let him
fall.
When Roddy came to he rose sheepishly.
"We'll have to postpone that expedition," he said, "until we can count
on better ventilation. Meanwhile, if any gentleman wants to say 'I
told you so,' I'll listen to him."
They replaced the slabs over the mouth of the tunnel, but left wide
openings through which the air and sunlight could circulate, and,
after concealing these openings with vines, returned to Roddy's house.
There they found Vicenti awaiting them. He was the bearer of important
news. The adherents of Colonel Vega, he told them, were assembling in
force near Porto Cabello, and it was well understood by the government
that at any moment Vega might join them and proclaim his revolution.
That he was not already under arrest was due to the fact that the
government wished to seize not only the leader, but all of those who
were planning to leave the city with him. The home of Vega was
surrounded, and he himself, in his walks abroad, closely guarded. That
he would be able to escape seemed all but impossible.
"At the same time," continued Vicenti, "our own party is in readiness.
If Vega reaches his followers and starts on his march to the capital
we will start an uprising here in favor of Rojas. If we could free
Rojas and show him to the people, nothing could save Alvarez. Alvarez
knows that as well as ourselves. But without artillery it is
impossible to subdue the fortress of San Carlos. We can take this
city; we can seize the barracks, the custom-house, but not San Carlos.
There also is this danger; that Alvarez, knowing without Rojas our
party would fall to pieces, may at the first outbreak order him to be
shot."
Roddy asked Vicenti, as the physician of Rojas, if he thought Rojas
were strong enough to lead a campaign.
"He is not," declared Vicenti, "but we would not ask it of him. Let
him only show himself and there will be no campaign. Even the
government troops would desert to him. But," he added with a sigh,
"why talk of the impossible! The troops that hold San Carlos are bound
to Alvarez. He has placed there only those from his own plantation; he
has paid them royally. And they have other reasons for fighting to the
death. Since they have been stationed at Porto Cabello their conduct
has been unspeakable. And the men of this town hate them as much as
the women fear them. Their cruelty to the political prisoners is well
known, and they understand that if an uprising started here where
Rojas has lived, where he is dearly loved, they need expect no mercy.
They will fight, not to protect San Carlos, but for their lives."
Vicenti spoke with such genuine feeling that had Roddy felt free to do
so he would have told him of the plan to rescue Rojas. But both Peter
and McKildrick had warned him that until the last moment no one, save
themselves, must learn the secret of the tunnel.
So, while they thanked Vicenti for his confidences, they separated for
the night without having made him any return in kind.
The next morning, Sam Caldwell, under the guidance of McKildrick, paid
an official visit to the light-house on which the men of the F. C. C.
were then at work. When his tour of inspection was finished he
returned to the wheel-house of the tug that had brought him across the
harbor, and sent for Roddy. Roddy appeared before him in his
working-clothes. They consisted of very few garments, and those were
entirely concealed by the harbor mud. Caldwell, in cool, clean duck
and a flamboyant Panama hat, signified with a grin that he enjoyed the
contrast. He did not like Roddy, and Roddy treated him with open
insolence. They were nearly of the same age and for years had known
each other, but they had always been at war. As son of the president
of the company, every chance had been given Roddy to advance his own
interests. And it was not so much that he had failed to be of service
to the company, as that he had failed to push himself forward, that
caused Caldwell to regard him with easy contempt.
On his side, Roddy considered Caldwell the bribe-giver and keeper of
the corruption fund for the company, and, as such, beneath his royal
notice. It therefore followed that in his present position of brief
authority over Roddy, Caldwell found a certain enjoyment. This he
concealed beneath the busy air of a man of affairs.
"I have a cable here from your father, Roddy," he began briskly.
"Translated, the part that refers to you reads, 'Tell Forrester take
orders from you or leave service company. If refuses, furnish return
passage, month's wages.'"
After a pause, Roddy said: "I take it that is in answer to a cable
from you."
"Exactly," assented Caldwell. "I informed your father you were
insubordinate to my authority, and that I had been reliably informed
you were hostile to our interests. What you do as an individual
doesn't count for much, but as the son of your father, apparently down
here at least, it does. Why you made that play at me last night I
don't know, and I haven't time to find out. I am not here to teach you
manners. But when you butt in and interfere with the business of the
company I must take notice. You've either got to stop working against
us, or go home. Which do you want to do? And before you answer,"
Caldwell added, "you ought to know that, as it is, you don't stand
very high at headquarters. When your father got word you'd been
fighting Vega, our friend, in defense of Alvarez, the man that's
robbing us, that's giving us all this trouble, he was naturally pretty
hot. He said to me: 'Roddy isn't down there to mix up in politics, but
if he does, he must mix up on our side. I can't take money from the
company to support my son, or any one else, who is against it.' That's
what your father said to me. Now, as I understand it, although it is
none of my business, you are dependent on him, and I advise----"
"As you say," interrupted Roddy, "it's none of your business. The
other proposition," he went on, "that I can't take money from the
company and work _against_ it, is fair enough. What you call my work
against it was begun before I knew it was in any way opposed to the
company's interests. Now that I do know, I quite agree that either I
must give up my outside job or quit working for you." Roddy reached to
the shoulder of his flannel shirt, and meditatively began to unroll
his damp and mud-soaked sleeve. "I guess I'll quit now!" he said.
The answer was not the one Caldwell expected or desired. As an
employee of the company Roddy was not important, but what he was doing
as an individual, which had so greatly excited Vega, was apparently
of much importance. And what it might be Sam Caldwell was anxious to
discover. He had enjoyed his moment of triumph and now adopted a tone
more conciliatory.
"There's no use getting hot about it," he urged. "Better think it
over."
Roddy nodded, and started to leave the wheel-house.
"Have thought it over," he said.
As Caldwell saw it, Roddy was acting from pique and in the belief that
his father would continue to supply him with funds. This Caldwell knew
was not the intention of Mr. Forrester. He had directed Caldwell to
inform Roddy that if he deliberately opposed him he must not only seek
work elsewhere, but that he did not think he should continue to ask
his father for support. Caldwell proceeded to make this quite plain to
Roddy, but, except that the color in his face deepened and that his
jaw set more firmly, Roddy made no sign.
"Very well, then," concluded Caldwell, "you leave me no other course
than to carry out your father's direction. I'll give you a month's
wages and pay your passage-money home."
"I'm not going home," returned Roddy, "and I don't want any money I
haven't worked for. The company isn't discharging me," he added with
a grin, "as it would a cook. I am discharging the company."
"I warn you your father won't stand for it," protested Caldwell.
Roddy turned back, and in a serious tone, and emphasizing his words
with a pointed forefinger, spoke earnestly.
"Sam," he said, "I give you my word, father is in wrong. _You_ are in
wrong. You're both backing the wrong stable. When this row starts your
man Vega won't run one, two, three."
"You mean Rojas?" said Caldwell.
"I mean Rojas," replied Roddy. "And if you and father had trusted me I
could have told you so three months ago. It would have saved you a lot
of money. It isn't too late even now. You'd better listen to me."
Caldwell laughed comfortably.
"Rojas is a back number," he said. "He's an old man, and a dead one.
And besides--" He hesitated and glanced away.
"Well?" demanded Roddy.
"And, besides," continued Caldwell slowly, picking his words, "Vega is
going to marry his daughter, and so we win both ways. And Vega is
amenable to reason. _He_ will help us." As though in a sudden burst
of confidence he added ingratiatingly, "And you could help your
father, too, if you liked. If you'll tell me what the Rojas party mean
to do I'll set you right with your father. What do you say?"
"What do I say, you poor, little--thing!" Roddy roared. Then he
laughed shortly and shrugged his shoulders. "I'll say this much," he
added. "If I were sure you couldn't swim I'd throw you into the
harbor."
"So you could pull me out," laughed Caldwell. "Why don't you? You know
you were always a grand-stand actor, Roddy. Think how heroic it would
be," he taunted, "to rescue the hated enemy, to save my life!"
Roddy, unmoved, regarded him thoughtfully.
"It would be an awful thing to have on one's conscience," he said, and
left the wheel-house.