AUSTIN MAKES A VENTURE
It was late one hot night when Austin first met Captain Farquhar of the
S.S. _Carsegarry_ in a calle of Santa Cruz, and the worthy shipmaster,
being then in a somewhat unpleasant position, was sincerely pleased to
see him. The _Carsegarry_ had reached Las Palmas with three thousand
tons of steam coal some ten days earlier, and, because there are
disadvantages attached to living on board a vessel that is discharging
coal, Farquhar had taken up his abode at the Metropole. He had, as
usual, made friends with almost everybody in the hotel during the first
few days, which said a good deal for his capabilities, considering that
most of them were Englishmen; and then, finding their society pall on
him, went across to Santa Cruz in search of adventure and more congenial
company.
As it happened, he found the latter in the person of another Englishman
with similar tastes; and one or two of their frolics are remembered in
that island yet. On the night Farquhar came across Austin they had
amused themselves not altogether wisely in a certain cafA(C), from which
its proprietor begged them to depart when they had broken one citizen's
guitar and damaged another's clothes. Then, as it was getting late, they
adjourned to the mole, where the Englishman had arranged that a boat at
his command should meet them, and convey Farquhar, who was going back to
Las Palmas next day, on board the _Estremedura_. The boat was not
forthcoming, and the Englishman's temper deteriorated while they waited
half an hour for it, until when at last the splash of oars came out of
the soft darkness he was not only in a very unpleasant humour, but
determined upon showing his companion that he was not a man with whom a
Spanish crew could take liberties.
There was also a pile of limestone on the mole, and when a shadowy
launch slid into the blackness beneath it he hurled down the biggest
lumps he could find, as well as a torrent of Castilian vituperation.
Then, however, instead of the excuses he had expected, there were
wrathful cries, and the Englishman gasped when he saw dim, white-clad
figures clambering in portentous haste up the adjacent steps.
"We'll have to get out of this--quick!" he said. "I've made a little
mistake. It's somebody else's boat."
They set about it without waste of time, but there was a good deal of
merchandise lying about the mole, and the Englishman, who fell over some
of it, lay still until a peon came across him peacefully asleep behind a
barrel next morning. Farquhar, however, ran on, snatching up a handspike
as he went, with odd lumps of limestone hurtling behind him; and as he
and his pursuers made a good deal of noise as they sped across the plaza
at the head of the mole, the citizens still left in the cafA(C)s turned out
to enjoy the spectacle. English seafarers are tolerated in that city,
but it is, perhaps, their own fault that they are not regarded with any
particular favour, and when Farquhar turned at bay in a doorway and
proceeded to defy all the subjects of Spain, nobody was anxious to stand
between him and the barelegged sailors, who had nasty knives. It might,
in fact, have gone hard with him had not two civiles, with big revolvers
strapped about them, arrived.
They heard the crowd's explanations with official unconcern, and then,
though it was, perhaps, their duty to place Farquhar in safe custody in
the cuartel, decided on sending for Austin, who was known to be staying
that night in a neighbouring hotel. He had befriended English skippers
already under somewhat similar circumstances, and the civiles, who knew
their business, were quite aware that nobody would thank them for
forcing the affair upon the attention of the English Consul. Austin
came, and saw Farquhar gazing angrily at the civiles and still gripping
his bar, while the crowd stood round and made insulting remarks about
him in Castilian. He at once grasped the position, and made a sign of
concurrence when one of the civiles spoke to him.
"You take him to his steamer," said the officer. "One of us will come
round in the morning when he understands."
Austin turned to Farquhar. "Give the man that bar," he said. "Come
along, and I'll send you off to your steamer."
"I'm going to have satisfaction out of some of them first," and Farquhar
made an indignant gesture of protest. "Then I'll knock up the Consul.
I'll show them if a crowd of garlic-eating pigs can run after me."
"If you stop here you'll probably get it, in the shape of a knife
between your ribs," said Austin, who seized his arm. "A wise man doesn't
drag in the Consul when he wants to keep his berth."
He forced Farquhar, who still protested vigorously, along, and, because
the civiles marched behind, conveyed him to the mole, where a boat was
procured to take them off to the _Estremedura_. Farquhar had cooled down
a little by the time they reached her, and appeared grateful when Austin
put him into his berth.
"Perhaps you did save me some trouble, and I'll not forget you," he
said. "Take you round all the nice people in Las Palmas and tell them
you're a friend of mine."
"I'm not sure it would be very much of a recommendation," said Austin,
drily.
Farquhar laughed. "That's where you're mistaken. When I've been a week
in a place I'm friends with everybody worth knowing."
"If to-night's affair is anything to go by, it's a little difficult to
understand how you manage it," said Austin.
"It's quite easy to be looked up to, and still have your fun," and
Farquhar lowered his voice confidentially. "When folks think a good deal
of you in one place you have only to go somewhere else when you feel the
fit coming on."
The _Estremedura_ sailed for Las Palmas next morning, and on arriving
there Austin was somewhat astonished to discover that Farquhar had, in
fact, acquired the good-will of a good many people of consequence in
that city. He was a genial, frolic-loving man, and Austin, who became
sensible of a liking for him, spent a good deal of his leisure on board
the _Carsegarry_, while, when the _Estremedura_ came back there, he also
consented to advise Farquhar about the getting up of a dance to which
everybody was invited. It was a testimony to the latter's capacity for
making friends that a good many of them came, and among the rest were
Pancho Brown, his daughter, Muriel Gascoyne, and Mrs. Hatherly, as well
as the commander of a Spanish warship, and several officers of
artillery.
The night was soft and still, and clear moonlight shone down upon the
sea. The trade breeze had fallen away, and only a little cool air came
down from the black Isleta hill, while fleecy mists drifted ethereally
athwart the jagged peaks of the great cordillera. An orchestra of
guitars and mandolins discoursed Spanish music from the poop, and there
was room for bolero and casucha on the big after-hatch, while, when the
waltzers had swung round it, the _Carsegarry_'s engineer made shift to
play the English lancers on his fiddle. Everybody seemed content, and
the genial Farquhar diffused high spirits and good humour.
Austin had swung through a waltz with Jacinta, though the guitars were
still twinging softly when they climbed the ladder to the bridge-deck,
where canvas chairs were laid out. It was a curious waltz, tinged with
the melancholy there is in most Spanish music, but the crash of a gun
broke through it, and while the roar of a whistle drowned the drowsy
murmur of the surf, the long black hull of an African mailboat slid into
the harbour ringed with lights. Then there followed the rattle of cable,
and Austin fancied that the sight of the steamer had, for no very
apparent reason, its effect upon his companion. She had been cordial
during the evening, but there was a faint suggestion of hardness in her
face as she turned to him.
"I am especially fond of that waltz," she said. "You may have noticed
there's a trace of what one might call the bizarre in it. No doubt, it's
Eastern. They got it from the Moors."
"It only struck me as very pretty," said Austin, who surmised by her
expression that Jacinta was preparing the way for what she meant to say.
"I'm afraid I'm not much of a musician."
"You, at least, dance rather well. There are not many Englishmen who
really do, which is, perhaps, no great disadvantage, after all."
Austin laughed, though he was a trifle perplexed. "Well," he said,
"though you don't overwhelm me with compliments, as a rule, you have
told me that I could dance before. Now, however, one could almost fancy
that the fact didn't meet with your approval."
Jacinta looked at him reflectively over her fan. "I scarcely supposed
you would understand, and one does not always feel in the mood to
undertake a logical exposition of their views. Still, here's Muriel, and
she, at least, generally seems to know just what she means. Suppose you
ask her what she thinks of dancing."
Austin did so, and Miss Gascoyne, who was crossing the deck-bridge with
Farquhar, stopped beside them.
"I don't think there is any harm in dancing, in itself--in fact, I have
just been waltzing with Captain Farquhar," she said. "Of course, the
disadvantage attached to amusements of any kind is that they may
distract one's attention from more serious things. Don't you think so,
Captain Farquhar?"
Farquhar caught Austin's eye, and grinned wickedly, but Miss Gascoyne,
who failed to notice this, glanced towards the steamer which had just
come in.
"That must be the African boat, but I suppose there is no use expecting
any news?" she said quietly, though there was a faint suggestive tremour
in her voice.
She passed on with Farquhar, and Jacinta glanced at Austin with a little
enquiring smile.
"If I had a sister who persisted in talking in that aggravatingly
edifying fashion, I should feel tempted to shake her," he said. "Still,
one could forgive her a good deal if only for the way she looked at the
West-coast boat. It suggested that she has as much humanity in her as
there is in the rest of us, after all."
"Still, don't you think there was a little reason in what she said?"
"Of course. That is, no doubt, why one objects to it. Well, since it's
difficult to keep the personal equation out, I suppose dancing and
sailing about these islands on board the _Estremedura_ is rather a
wasteful life. Painting little pictures probably comes to much the same
thing, too, though there are people who seem to take art seriously."
Jacinta looked at him steadily. "When one has really an artistic talent
it is different," she said.
Austin, who hoped she did not notice that he winced, sat silent a space,
gazing out across the glittering sea, and it was not altogether a
coincidence that his eyes were turned eastwards towards Africa, where
Jefferson was toiling in the fever swamps. He wondered if Jacinta knew
his thoughts had also turned in that direction somewhat frequently of
late.
"Well," he said, "I suppose it is. Some of those pictures must be
pretty, or the tourists wouldn't buy them, but that doesn't go very far,
after all." He stopped a moment, and then went on with a little wry
smile. "No doubt some patients require drastic treatment, and there are
cases where it is necessary to use the knife."
Jacinta rose, and, dropping her fan to her side, gravely met his gaze.
"If it wasn't, it would probably not be tried," she said. "One could
fancy that it was, now and then, a little painful to the surgeon."
Austin walked with her to the ladder, and stopped a moment at the head
of it. "Well," he said, "one has to remember that all men are not built
on the same model, and, what is more to the purpose, they haven't all
the same opportunities. No doubt the latter fact is fortunate for some
of them, since they would probably make a deplorable mess of things if
they undertook a big enterprise."
"Ah!" said Jacinta, who remembered it afterwards, "one never knows when
the opportunities may present themselves."
She went down the ladder, and it was about an hour later when a boat
slid alongside, and a man came up, asking for Austin. The latter, who
sat on the bridge-deck amidst a group of Farquhar's guests, looked at
him curiously when he handed him an envelope. His garments had evidently
not been made for him, and there were stains of grease and soot on his
coarse serge jacket, while the coal dust had not been wholly washed from
his face. It was not difficult to recognise him as a steamer's fireman.
"You're Mr. Austin?" he said.
Austin admitted that he was, and after a glance at the letter turned
round and saw that Muriel Gascoyne, who sat close by, was watching him
with a curious intentness. Then he once more fixed his attention on the
paper in his hand.
"S.S. _Cumbria_" was written at the top of it, and there followed a
description of the creek, and how the steamer lay, as well as the cargo
in her holds. Then he read: "I'm beginning to understand why those
wrecker fellows let up on the contract, though they hadn't the stake I
have in the game. There are times when I get wondering whether I can
last it out, for it seems to me that white men who work in the sun all
day are apt to drop out suddenly in this country. I make you and Mr.
Pancho Brown my executors in case of anything of that kind happening to
me. If you come across anybody willing to take the _Cumbria_ over as a
business proposition, do what you can, on the understanding that
one-third of the profit goes to Miss Gascoyne, the rest as executors'
and wreckers' remuneration. I don't know how far this statement meets
your law, but I feel I can trust you, any way. In case either party is
not willing to take the thing up, the other may act alone."
Austin turned to the fireman. "You have another letter for Mr. Brown?"
"Yes, sir," said the man. "Mr. Jefferson----"
Austin, who heard a rustle of feminine draperies and what seemed to be a
little gasp of surprise or alarm, made the man a sign.
"Come into the skipper's room. I've two or three things to ask you," he
said. "Miss Brown, will you please hand that letter to your father?"
They disappeared into the room beneath the bridge, and it was some time
before they came out again. Then Austin sent the man down the ladder
with a steward to take him to Brown, and leaned against the rail.
Jacinta, Muriel, and Mrs. Hatherly were still sitting there, but the
rest had gone. He told them briefly all he had heard about Jefferson,
and then descended the ladder in search of Brown. The latter met him
with the letter in his hand, and they found a seat in the shadow of the
_Carsegarry_'s rail. Nobody seemed to notice them, though the fluttering
dresses of the women brushed them as they swung in the waltz.
"You have read it," said Austin. "What do you think?"
Pancho Brown tapped the letter with the gold-rimmed glasses he held in
his hand.
"As a business proposition I would not look at it. The risks are too
great," he said.
"It struck me like that, too. Still, that's not quite the question. You
see, the man isn't dead."
"I almost think he is by this time," said Brown, reflectively. "Now, he
did not seem quite sure when he wrote those letters that there was
really any gum in her. At least, he hadn't found it, and I understand
that circumstances had made him a little suspicious about the
_Cumbria_'s skipper, who we know is dead. Taking oil at present value,
in view of what we would have to pay for a salvage expedition and
chartering, there is, it seems to me, nothing in the thing."
"I'm not quite sure of that; but you are still presuming Jefferson
dead."
Brown turned and looked at him. "The first thing we have to do is to
find out. Somebody will have to go across, and, of course, he must be a
reliable man. I should be disposed to go so far as to meet the necessary
expenses, not as a business venture, but because Jacinta would give me
no peace if I didn't."
"There would be no difficulty about the man."
Brown turned to him sharply. "You?"
"Yes. If Jefferson is dead I should probably also undertake to do what I
can to meet his wishes as executor."
Brown sat silent a space, and then tapped the letter with his glasses
again. "In that case I might go as far as to find, say, AL200. It should,
at least, be sufficient to prove if there is any odd chance of getting
the _Cumbria_ off."
"I think I shall do that with AL80, but I should prefer that you did not
provide it. That is, unless you decide to go into the thing on a
business footing, and take your share of the results, as laid down by
Jefferson."
Brown seemed to be looking hard at him, but they sat in shadow, and
Austin was glad of it.
"Ah!" he said quietly, though there was a significance in his tone.
"Well, somebody must certainly go across, and if you fail elsewhere you
can always fall back on me for--a loan. When are you going?"
"By the first boat that calls anywhere near the creek."
He rose and turned away, but Pancho Brown sat still, with a curious
expression in his face. If any of the dancers had noticed him, it would
probably have occurred to them that he was thinking hard. Pancho Brown
was a quiet man, but he often noticed a good deal more than his daughter
gave him credit for. Still, when at length he rose and joined Farquhar
there was nothing in his appearance which suggested that he was either
anxious or displeased.
In the meanwhile Austin came upon Mrs. Hatherly, who was wandering up
and down the deck, and she drew him beneath a lifeboat.
"Miss Gascoyne is, no doubt, distressed? I am sorry for her," he said.
The little lady held his arm in a tightening grasp. "Of course," she
said, and there was a tremour in her voice. "Still, after all, that does
not concern us most just now. Somebody must go, and see what can be done
for Mr. Jefferson."
"Yes," said Austin. "I am going."
"Then--and I am sure you will excuse me--it will cost a good deal, and
you cannot be a rich man, or----"
"I should not have been on board the _Estremedura_? You are quite
correct, madam."
Mrs. Hatherly made a little deprecatory gesture. "I am not exactly poor;
in fact, I have more money than I shall live to spend, and I always
meant to leave it to Muriel. It seems to me that it would be wiser to
spend some of it on her now. You will let me give you what you want, Mr.
Austin?"
Austin stood silent a moment, with a flush in his face, and then gravely
met her gaze.
"I almost think I could let you lend me forty pounds. With that I shall
have enough in the meanwhile. You will not think me ungracious if I say
that just now I am especially sorry I have not more money of my own?"
The little lady smiled at him. "Oh, I understand. That is what made me
almost afraid. It cannot be nice to borrow from a woman. Still, I think
you could, if it was necessary, do even harder things."
"I shall probably have to," said Austin, a trifle drily. "I don't mind
admitting that what you have suggested is a great relief to me."
"You would naturally sooner let me lend it you than Mr. Brown?"
"Why should you suppose that?" and the flush crept back into Austin's
face.
Mrs. Hatherly smiled again. "Ah," she said, "I am an old woman, and have
my fancies, but they are right now and then. I will send you a cheque
to-morrow, and, Mr. Austin, I should like you to think of me as one of
your friends. Do you know that I told Muriel half an hour ago you would
go?"
Austin made her a little grave inclination, though there was a smile in
his eyes.
"I am not sure that any of my other friends has so much confidence in
me, madam," he said. "After all, it is another responsibility, and I
shall have to do what I can."
The little lady smiled at him as she turned away. "Well," she said
quietly, "I think that will be a good deal."
It was ten minutes later when Austin met Jacinta, and she stopped him
with a sign.
"You are going to Mr. Jefferson?" she said.
"Yes," said Austin, with a trace of dryness. "I believe so. After all,
he is a friend of mine."
Jacinta watched him closely, and her pale, olive-tinting was a trifle
warmer in tone than usual. His self-control was excellent, to the little
smile, but she could make a shrewd guess as to what it cost him.
"Soon?" she asked.
"In two or three days. That is, if the Compania don't get the Spaniards
to lay hands on me. By the way, you may as well know now that I had to
get Mrs. Hatherly to lend me part, at least, of the necessary money."
Jacinta flushed visibly. "You will not be vindictive, though, of
course, I have now and then been hard on you."
"I shouldn't venture to blame you. As we admitted, there are occasions
on which one has to resort to drastic remedies."
Jacinta stopped him with a gesture. "Please--you won't," she said. "Of
course, I deserve it, but you will try to forgive me. You can afford
to--now."
She stood still a moment in the moonlight, an ethereal, white-clad
figure, with a suggestion of uncertainly and apprehension in her face
which very few people had ever seen there before, and then turned
abruptly, with a little smile of relief, as Miss Gascoyne came towards
them.
"He's going out, Muriel. You will thank him--I don't seem able to," she
said.
Muriel came forward with outstretched hands, and in another moment
Austin, to his visible embarrassment, felt her warm grasp.
"Oh," she said, "Mrs. Hatherly knew you meant to. I feel quite sure I
can trust you to bring him back to me."
Austin managed to disengage his hands, and smiled a little, though it
was Jacinta he looked at.
"I think," he said, "I have a sufficient inducement for doing what I
can. Still, you will excuse me. There are one or two points I want to
talk over with Captain Farquhar."
He turned away, and twenty minutes later Jacinta, standing on the
bridge-deck, alone, watched his boat slide away into the blaze of
moonlight that stretched suggestively towards Africa.