A BIG CONTRACT
It was the day after the dance at the Catalina, and Austin was running
into Las Palmas harbour in a powerful steam launch which had been lent
him to convey certain documents to a Spanish steamer. The trade-breeze
had veered a little further east that day, as it sometimes did, and the
full drift of the long Atlantic sea came rolling inshore. The launch was
wet with spray, which flew up in clouds as she lurched over the
white-topped combers that burst in a chaotic spouting on a black
volcanic reef not far away from her. It also happened that the coaling
company's new tug had broken down a few minutes earlier, and when the
launch drove past the long mole the first thing Austin saw was a
forty-ton coal lighter, loaded to the water's edge, drifting towards the
reef. There was a boat astern of her, out of which a couple of Spanish
peons seemed to be flinging the water, preparatory to abandoning the
lighter to her fate, but Austin could see very little of the latter. The
sea washed clean across her, and she showed no more than a strip of
sluicing side amidst the spray.
What became of her was no business of his, but when the whistle of a big
grain tramp rolling across the mouth of the harbour, and apparently
waiting for her coal, roared out a warning, it occurred to Austin that
the Spaniards in the boat might have considerable difficulty in pulling
her clear of the reef against the sea. Accordingly, he unloosed the
launch's whistle, and while it screeched dolefully, put his helm over
and ran down upon the lighter. She was wallowing sideways towards the
reef when he rounded up close alongside and saw, somewhat to his
astonishment, that there was a man still on board. He was very black,
though the spray was dripping from his face, and the seas that swept
over the lighter's deck wet him to the knees. Austin shouted to him:
"I'll run round to leeward, Jefferson, so you can jump!" he said.
The wet man swung an arm up. "Stand by to take our rope. I'm not going
to jump."
Austin considered. He was by no means sure that the launch had power
enough to tow the lighter clear, and the long white seething on the
jagged lava astern of her suggested what would happen if she failed to
do it.
"Come on board. I haven't steam to pull her off," he said.
Jefferson made an impatient gesture. "If you want me, you have got to
try."
Austin wasted no more time. It was evidently valuable then, and he knew
his man. He signed to the Spanish fireman to back the launch astern, and
clutched the rope Jefferson flung him as she drove across the lighter's
bows.
"I can tow her just as well with you on board here," he roared.
"I guess you can," and a sea wet Jefferson to the waist as he floundered
aft towards the lighter's stern. "Still, you're going to find it awkward
to steer her, too."
This was plain enough, and Austin decided that if Jefferson meant to
stay on board it was his affair, while he was far from sure that he
would gain anything by attempting to dissuade him, even had there been
time available. As it was, he realised that the lighter would probably
go ashore while they discussed the question, and he signed to the
Spanish fireman, who started the little engine full speed ahead, and
then opened the furnace door. There was a gush of flame from the funnel,
and the tow-rope tightened with a bang that jerked the launch's stern
under. Then, while she was held down by the wallowing lighter a big,
white-topped sea burst across her forward, and for a few seconds Austin,
drenched and battered by the flying spray, could see nothing at all.
When it blew astern he made out Jefferson standing knee deep in water at
the lighter's helm, though there was very little else visible through
the rush of white-streaked brine. Austin shouted to the fireman, who
once more opened the furnace door, for that cold douche had suddenly
made a different man of him.
He did, for the most part, very little on board the _Estremedura_, and
took life as easily as he could, but there was another side of his
nature which, though it had been little stirred as yet, came uppermost
then, as it did occasionally when he brought his despatches off at night
in an open roadstead through the trade-wind surf. It was also known to
the _Estremedura_'s skipper that he had once swum off to the steamer
from the roaring beach at Orotava when no fishermen in the little port
would launch a barquillo out. Thus he felt himself in entire sympathy
with Jefferson as every big comber hove the launch up and the spray
lashed his tingling skin, while for five anxious minutes the issue hung
in the balance. Launch and lighter went astern with the heavier seas,
and barely recovered the lost ground in the smooths when a roller failed
to break quite so fiercely as its predecessors.
Then the Spanish fireman either raised more steam, or the heavy weight
of coal astern at last acquired momentum, for they commenced to forge
ahead, the launch plunging and rolling, with red flame at her funnel,
and the smoke and spray and sparks blowing aft on Austin, who stood,
dripping to the skin, at the tiller. Ahead, the long seas that hove
themselves up steeply in shoal water came foaming down on him, but there
was a little grim smile in his eyes, and he felt his blood tingle as he
watched them. When he glanced over his shoulder, which it was not
advisable to do unguardedly, he could see Jefferson swung up above him
on the lighter's lifted stern, and the long white smoother that ran
seething up the reef.
It, however, fell further behind them, until he could put the helm over
and run the lighter into smoother water behind the mole, when Jefferson
flung up his arm again.
"Swing her alongside the grain boat, and then hold on a minute. I'll
come ashore with you," he said.
Austin stopped the launch and cast the tow-rope off, and the lighter,
driving forward, slid in under the big grain tramp's side. A few minutes
later Jefferson appeared at her gangway, and when Austin ran in jumped
on board. He was a tall man, and was just then very wet, and as black as
any coal heaver. This, however, rather added to the suggestion of
forcefulness that usually characterised him.
"That fellow has been waiting several hours for his coal, and as I
couldn't get a man worth anything on to the crane, I ran the thing
myself," he said. "The way the wind was it blew the grit all over me,
and I'm coming across for a wash with you. I'm 'most afraid to walk
through the port as I am just now."
He laughed happily, and Austin fancied that he understood him, since he
felt that if he had held Miss Gascoyne's promise he would not have liked
to run any risk of meeting her in the state in which Jefferson was just
then. As it happened, it did not occur to either of them that they had
done anything unusual, which had, perhaps, its significance.
Austin took him on board the _Estremedura_, and when he had removed most
of the coal-dust from his person they sat down with a bottle of thin
wine before them in the sobrecargo's room. Jefferson was lean in face
and person, though he was largely made, and had dark eyes that could
smile and yet retain a certain intentness and gravity. His voice had a
little ring in it, and, big as he was, he was seldom altogether still.
When he filled his glass his long fingers tightened on it curiously.
"I owe you a little for pulling us off just now, but that's by no means
all," he said. "Miss Gascoyne told me how you stopped the boat that
night three weeks ago. Now----"
Austin laughed. "We'll take it item by item. When you get started you're
just a little overwhelming. In the first place, what are you coaling
grain tramps for when somebody has left you a fortune?"
"It's not quite that," said Jefferson. "Forty thousand dollars. They're
busy at the coal wharf, and wanted me to stay on until the month was up,
any way."
"I don't think you owe them very much," said Austin. "In fact, I'm not
sure that if I'd been you I'd have saved that coal for them; but we'll
get on. I want to congratulate you on another thing, and I really think
you are a lucky man."
The smile sank out of Jefferson's eyes. "I'm quite sure of it," he said
gravely. "I get wondering sometimes how she ever came to listen to such
a man as I am, who isn't fit to look at her."
Austin made a little gesture of sympathy. This was not what he would
have said himself, but he was an insular Englishman, and the reticence
which usually characterises the species is less highly thought of across
the Atlantic. The average American is more or less addicted to saying
just what he means, which is, after all, usually a convenience to
everybody. Before he could speak Jefferson went on:
"I've been wanting to thank you for stopping that steamer," he said.
"It's the best turn anybody ever did me, and I'm not going to forget it.
Now----"
"If you're pleased, I am," said Austin, who did not care for
protestations of gratitude, a trifle hastily. "Any way, you have got
her, and though it's not my business, the question is what you're going
to do. Eight thousand pounds isn't very much, after all, and English
girls are apt to want a good deal, you know."
Jefferson laughed. "Forty thousand dollars is quite a nice little sum to
start with; but I've got to double it before I'm married."
"There are people who would spend most of their life doing it," said
Austin, reflectively. "How long do you propose to allow yourself?"
"Six months," and there was a snap in Jefferson's voice and eyes. "If I
haven't got eighty thousand dollars in that time I'm going to have no
use for them."
"When you come to think of it, that isn't very long to make forty
thousand dollars in," said Austin.
He said nothing further, for he had met other Americans in his time, and
knew the cheerful optimism that not infrequently characterises them.
Jefferson looked at him steadily with the little glow still in his eyes.
"You stopped the _Estremedura_, and, in one respect, you're not quite
the same as most Englishmen. They're hide-bound. It takes a month to
find out what they're thinking, and then, quite often, it isn't worth
while. Any way, I'm going to talk. I feel I've got to. Wouldn't you
consider Miss Gascoyne was worth taking a big risk for?"
"Yes," said Austin, remembering what he had seen in the girl's face. "I
should almost think she was."
"You would almost think!" and Jefferson gazed at him a moment in
astonishment. "Well, I guess you were made that way, and you can't help
it. Now, I'm open to tell anybody who cares to listen that that girl was
a revelation to me. She's good all through, there's not a thought in her
that isn't clean and wholesome. After all, that's what a man wants to
fall back upon. Then she's dainty, clever, and refined, with sweetness
and graciousness just oozing out of her. It's all round her like an
atmosphere."
Austin was slightly amused, though he would not for his life have shown
it. It occurred to him that an excess of the qualities his companion
admired in Miss Gascoyne might prove monotonous, especially if they
were, as in her case, a little too obtrusive. He also fancied that this
was the first time anybody had called her clever. Still, Jefferson's
supreme belief in the woman he loved appealed to him in spite of its
somewhat too vehement expression, and he reflected that there was
probably some truth in Jacinta's observation that the woman whose lover
credited her with all the graces might, at least, acquire some of them.
It seemed that a simple and somewhat narrow-minded English girl, without
imagination, such as Miss Gascoyne was in reality, might still hear what
Jacinta called the celestial music, and, listening, become transformed.
After all, it was not mere passion which vibrated in Jefferson's voice
and had shone in Muriel Gascoyne's eyes, and Austin vaguely realised
that the faith that can believe in the apparently impossible and the
charity that sees no shortcomings are not altogether of this earth.
Then he brushed these thoughts aside and turned to his companion with a
little smile.
"How did you ever come to be here, Jefferson?" he asked, irrelevantly.
"It's rather a long way from the land of progress and liberty."
Jefferson laughed in a somewhat curious fashion. "Well," he said,
"others have asked me, but I'll tell you, and I've told Miss Gascoyne. I
had a good education, and I'm thankful for it now. There is money in the
family, but it was born in most of us to go to sea. I went because I had
to, and it made trouble. The man who had the money had plotted out quite
a different course for me. Still, I did well enough until the night the
_Sachem_--there are several of them, but I guess you know the one I
mean--went down. I was mate, but it wasn't in my watch the Dutchman
struck her."
"Ah!" said Austin softly, "that explains a good deal! It wasn't exactly
a pleasant story."
He eat looking at his companion with grave sympathy as the details of a
certain grim tragedy in which the brutally handled crew had turned upon
their persecutors when the ship was sinking under them came back to him.
Knowing tolerably well what usually happens when official enquiry
follows upon a disaster at sea, he had a suspicion that the truth had
never become altogether apparent, though the affair had made a sensation
two or three years earlier. Still, while Jefferson had not mentioned his
part in it, he had already exonerated him.
"It was so unpleasant that I couldn't find a shipping company on our
side who had any use for the _Sachem_'s mate," he said, and his voice
sank a little. "Of course, it never all came out, but there were more
than two of the men who went down that night who weren't drowned. Well,
what could you expect of a man with a pistol when the one friend he had
in that floating hell dropped at his feet with his head adzed open. That
left me and Nolan aft. He was a brute--a murdering, pitiless devil; but
there were he and I with our backs to the jigger-mast, and a few of the
rest left who meant that we should never get into the quarter-boat."
Austin was a trifle startled. "You told Miss Gascoyne that?" he said.
"How did she take it?"
Jefferson made a curious little gesture. "Of course," he said simply. "I
had to. She believed in me; but do you think I'm going to tell--you--how
it hurt her?"
It was borne in upon Austin that, after all, he understood very little
about women. A few days earlier it would have seemed impossible to him
that a girl with Muriel Gascoyne's straitened views should ever have
linked her life with one who had played a leading part in that revolting
tragedy. Now, however, it was evident that there was very little she
would not do for the man who loved her.
"I'm sorry! You'll excuse it," he said. "Still, that scarcely explains
how you came to Las Palmas."
"I came as deck-hand on board a barque bringing tomato boxes over. They
were busy at the coaling wharf just then, and I got put on. You know the
rest of it. I was left forty thousand dollars."
"You haven't told me yet how you're going to turn them into eighty
thousand."
"I'm coming to it. You know we coaled the _Cumbria_ before she went out
to West Africa. A nearly new 1,500-ton tramp she was, light draught at
that, or she'd never have gone where she did. You could put her down at
AL15,000 sterling. She went up into the half-charted creeks behind the
shoals and islands south of Senegal, and was lost there. Among other
things, it was a new gum she went for. It appears the niggers find gums
worth up to AL5 the hundredweight in the bush behind that country. A
Frenchman chartered her, but he's dead now, as is almost everybody
connected with the _Cumbria_. They've fevers that will wipe you out in a
week or two yonder--more fever, in fact, than anywhere else in Africa.
Well, as everybody knows, they got oil and sundries and a little gum,
and went down with fever while they crawled about those creeks loading
her. She got hard in the mud up one of them, and half of the boys were
buried before they pulled her out at all, and then she hit something
that started a plate or two in her. They couldn't keep the water down,
and they rammed her into a mangrove forest to save her. More of them
died there, and the salvage expedition lost three or four men before
they turned up their contract."
"That," said Austin, "is what might be termed the official version."
Jefferson nodded. "What everybody doesn't know is that the skipper
played the Frenchman a crooked game," he said. "There was more gum put
into her than was ever shown in her papers; while they had got at the
trade gin before she went ashore. In fact, I have a notion that it
wasn't very unlike the _Sachem_ affair. I can't quite figure how they
came to start those plates in the soft mud of a mangrove creek. Any way,
the carpenter, who died there, was a countryman of mine. You may
remember I did a few things for him, and the man was grateful. Well, the
result is I know there's a good deal more than AL20,000 sterling in the
_Cumbria_."
Austin surmised that this was possible. It was not, he knew, seafarers
of unexceptional character who usually ventured into the still little
known creeks of Western Africa, which the coast mailboats' skippers left
alone. He was also aware that more or less responsible white men are
apt to go a trifle off their balance and give their passions free rein
when under the influence of cheap spirits in that land of pestilence.
"Well?" he said.
"I've bought her, as she lies, for AL6,000."
Austin gasped. "You will probably die off in two or three weeks after
you put your foot in her."
"I'm not quite sure. I was at Panama, and never had a touch of fever.
Any way, I'm going, and if you'll stand in with me, I'll put you down a
quarter-share for a dollar."
It was in one respect a generous offer, but Austin shook his head. "No,"
he said decisively. "Have you forgotten that Miss Gascoyne expects you
to marry her?"
Jefferson's eyes glowed. "I'm remembering it all the time. That's why
I'm going. Would you take a refined and cultured girl and drag her
through all the hard places men of my kind make money in up and down the
world? Has she to give up everything and come down to me? No, sir! It
seems to me, the man who wants to marry a girl of that kind has got to
do something to show he knows her value before he gets her, and it would
be way better for both of us that she should be sorry for me dead than
that I should live to drag her down."
It seemed to Austin that there was a good deal to be said for this point
of view, and it also occurred to him that there was in this latter-day
American, who had still the grime of the coaling wharf upon him,
something of the spirit which had sent the knight-errant out in the days
of chivalry. Still, he naturally did not say so, for he was, after all,
what Jefferson called a hide-bound Englishman.
"Well," he said, "you're taking a big risk, but perhaps you are right."
Jefferson rose with the abruptness which usually characterised his
movements.
"You're not coming?"
"No. I haven't your inducement, and I'm afraid the contract's too big
for me."
"You have a week to consider it in," said Jefferson, who opened the
door. "In the meanwhile there's another fellow ready for his coal, and
I'm going along."