COMPLICATIONS
It was dark outside the feeble lamplight, and very hot, when Dick sat on
his veranda after a day of keen activity in the burning sun. He felt
slack and jaded, for he had had difficult work to do and his dusky
laborers had flagged under the unusual heat. There was now no touch of
coolness in the stagnant air, and although the camp down the valley was
very quiet a confused hum of insects came out of the jungle. It rose and
fell with a monotonous regularity that jarred upon Dick's nerves as he
forced himself to think.
He was in danger of falling in love with Clare Kenwardine; indeed, he
suspected that it would be better to face the truth and admit that he had
already done so. The prudent course would be to fight against and
overcome his infatuation; but suppose he found this impossible, as he
feared? It seemed certain that she had stolen his papers; but after all
he did not hold her accountable. Some day he would learn more about the
matter and find that she was blameless. He had been a fool to think
harshly of her, but he knew now that his first judgment was right. Clare,
who could not have done anything base and treacherous, was much too good
for him. This, however, was not the subject with which he meant to occupy
himself, because if he admitted that he hoped to marry Clare, there were
serious obstacles in his way.
To begin with, he had made it difficult, if not impossible, for the girl
to treat him with the friendliness she had previously shown; besides
which, Kenwardine would, no doubt, try to prevent his meeting her, and
his opposition would be troublesome. Then it was plainly desirable that
she should be separated from her father, who might involve her in his
intrigues, because there was ground for believing that he was a dangerous
man. In the next place, Dick was far from being able to support a wife
accustomed to the extravagance that Kenwardine practised. It might be
long before he could offer her the lowest standard of comfort necessary
for an Englishwoman in a hot, foreign country.
He felt daunted, but not altogether hopeless, and while he pondered the
matter Bethune came in. On the whole, Dick found his visit a relief.
"I expect you'll be glad to hear we can keep the machinery running,"
Bethune said as he sat down.
Dick nodded. Their fuel was nearly exhausted, for owing to strikes and
shortage of shipping Fuller had been unable to keep them supplied.
"Then you have got some coal? As there's none at Santa Brigida just now,
where's it coming from?"
"Adexe. Four big lighter loads. Stuyvesant has given orders to have them
towed round."
"I understood the Adexe people didn't keep a big stock. The wharf is
small."
"So did I, but it seems that Kenwardine came to Stuyvesant and offered
him as much as he wanted."
"Kenwardine!" Dick exclaimed.
Bethune lighted his pipe. "Yes, Kenwardine. As the wharf's supposed to be
owned by Spaniards, I don't see what he has to do with it, unless he's
recently bought them out. Anyhow, it's high-grade navigation coal."
"Better stuff than we need, but the difference in price won't matter if
we can keep the concrete mill going," Dick remarked thoughtfully. "Still,
it's puzzling. If Kenwardine has bought the wharf, why's he sending the
coal away, instead of using it in the regular bunkering trade?"
"There's a hint of mystery about the matter. I expect you heard about the
collier tramp that was consigned to the French company at Arucas? Owing
to some dispute, they wouldn't take the cargo and the shippers put it on
the market. Fuller tried to buy some, but found that another party had
got the lot. Well, Stuyvesant believes it was the German, Richter, who
bought it up."
"Jake tells me that Richter's a friend of Kenwardine's."
"I didn't know about that," said Bethune. "They may have bought the cargo
for some particular purpose, for which they afterwards found it wouldn't
be required, and now want to sell some off."
"Then Kenwardine must have more money than I thought."
"The money may be Richter's," Bethune replied. "However, since we'll now
have coal enough to last until Fuller sends some out, I don't know that
we have any further interest in the matter."
He glanced keenly at Dick's thoughtful face; and then, as the latter did
not answer, talked about something else until he got up to go. After he
had gone, Dick leaned back in his chair with a puzzled frown. He had met
Richter and rather liked him, but the fellow was a German, and it was
strange that he should choose an English partner for his speculations, as
he seemed to have done. But while Kenwardine was English, Dick's papers
had been stolen at his house, and his distrust of the man grew stronger.
There was something suspicious about this coal deal, but he could not
tell exactly what his suspicions pointed to, and by and by he took up the
plan of a culvert they were to begin next morning.
A few days later, Jake and he sat, one night, in the stern of the launch,
which lay head to sea about half a mile from the Adexe wharf. The
promised coal had not arrived, and, as fuel was running very short at the
concrete mill, Dick had gone to see that a supply was sent. It was late
when he reached Adexe, and found nobody in authority about, but three
loaded lighters were moored at the wharf, and a gang of peons were
trimming the coal that was being thrown on board another. Ahead of the
craft lay a small tug with steam up. As the half-breed foreman declared
that he did not know whether the coal was going to Santa Brigida or not,
Dick boarded the tug and found her Spanish captain drinking caña with
his engineer. Dick thought one looked at the other meaningly as he
entered the small, hot cabin.
"I suppose it's Señor Fuller's coal in the barges, and we're badly in
want of it," he said. "As you have steam up, you'll start soon."
"We start, yes," answered the skipper, who spoke some English, and then
paused and shrugged. "I do not know if we get to Santa Brigida to-night."
"Why?" Dick asked. "There's not very much wind, and it's partly off the
land."
The half-breed engineer described in uncouth Castilian the difficulties
he had had with a defective pump and leaking glands, and Dick, who did
not understand much of it, went back to his launch. Stopping the craft a
short distance from the harbor, he said to Jake: "We'll wait until they
start. Somehow I don't think they meant to leave to-night if I hadn't
turned them out."
Jake looked to windward. There was a moon in the sky, which was, however,
partly obscured by driving clouds. The breeze was strong, but, blowing
obliquely off the land did not ruffle the sea much near the beach. A long
swell, however, worked in, and farther out the white tops of the combers
glistened in the moonlight. Now and then a fresher gust swept off the
shadowy coast and the water frothed in angry ripples about the launch.
"They ought to make Santa Brigida, though they'll find some sea running
when they reach off-shore to go round the Tajada reef," he remarked.
"There's water enough through the inside channel."
"That's so," Jake agreed. "Still, it's narrow and bad to find in the
dark, and I expect the skipper would sooner go outside." Then he glanced
astern and said, "They're coming out."
Two white lights, one close above the other, with a pale red glimmer
below, moved away from the wharf. Behind them three or four more
twinkling red spots appeared, and Dick told the fireman to start the
engine half-speed. Steering for the beach, he followed the fringe of
surf, but kept abreast of the tug, which held to a course that would take
her round the end of the reef.
When the moon shone through he could see her plunge over the steep swell
and the white wash at the lighters' bows as they followed in her wake;
then as a cloud drove past, their dark hulls faded and left nothing but a
row of tossing lights. By and by the launch reached a bend in the
coastline and the breeze freshened and drew more ahead. The swell began
to break and showers of spray blew on board, while the sea got white
off-shore.
"We'll get it worse when we open up the Arenas bight," said Jake as he
glanced at the lurching tug. "It looks as if the skipper meant to give
the reef a wide berth. He's swinging off to starboard. Watch his smoke."
"You have done some yachting, then?"
"I have," said Jake. "I used to sail a shoal-draught sloop on Long Island
Sound. Anyway, if I'd been towing those coal-scows, I'd have edged in
near the beach, for the sake of smoother water, and wouldn't have headed
out until I saw the reef. It will be pretty wet on board the scows now,
and they'll have had to put a man on each to steer."
Dick nodded agreement and signed the fireman to turn on more steam as he
followed the tug outshore. The swell got steadily higher and broke in
angry surges. The launch plunged, and rattled as she swung her screw out
of the sea, but Dick kept his course abreast of the tug, which he could
only distinguish at intervals between the clouds of spray. Her masthead
lights reeled wildly to and fro, but the low red gleam from the barges
was hidden and he began to wonder why her captain was steering out so
far. It was prudent not to skirt the reef, but the fellow seemed to be
giving it unnecessary room. The lighters would tow badly through the
white, curling sea, and there was a risk of the hawsers breaking.
Besides, the engineer had complained that his machinery was not running
well.
A quarter of an hour later, a belt of foam between them and the land
marked the reef, and the wind brought off the roar of breaking surf. Soon
afterwards, the white surge faded, and only the tug's lights were left as
a long cloud-bank drove across the moon. Jake stood up, shielding his
eyes from the spray.
"He's broken his rope; the coal's adrift!" he cried.
Dick saw the tug's lights vanish, which meant that she had turned with
her stern towards the launch; and then two or three twinkling specks some
distance off.
"He'd tow the first craft with a double rope, a bridle from his
quarters," he said. "It's strange that both parts broke, and, so far as I
can make out, the tail barge has parted her hawser, too."
A whistle rang out, and Dick called for full-speed as the tug's green
light showed.
"We'll help him to pick up the barges," he remarked.
The moon shone out as they approached the nearest, and a bright beam
swept across the sea until it touched the lurching craft. Her wet side
glistened about a foot above the water and then vanished as a white surge
lapped over it and washed across her deck. A rope trailed from her bow
and her long tiller jerked to and fro. It was obvious that she was adrift
with nobody on board, and Dick cautiously steered the launch towards her.
"That's curious, but perhaps the rest drove foul of her and the helmsman
lost his nerve and jumped," he said. "I'll put Maccario on board to give
us the hawser."
"Then I'll go with him," Jake offered. "He can't handle the big rope
alone."
Dick hesitated. It was important that they should not lose the coal, but
he did not want to give the lad a dangerous task. The barge was rolling
wildly and he durst not run alongside, while some risk would attend a
jump across the three or four feet of water between the craft.
"I think you'd better stop here," he objected.
"I don't," Jake answered with a laugh. "Guess you've got to be logical.
You want the coal, and it will take us both to save it."
He followed the fireman, who stood, balancing himself for a spring, on
the forward deck, while Dick let the launch swing in as close as he
thought safe. The man leapt and Dick watched Jake with keen anxiety as
the launch rose with the next comber, but the lad sprang off as the bows
went up, and came down with a splash in the water that flowed across the
lighter's deck. Then Dick caught the line thrown him and with some
trouble dragged the end of the hawser on board. He was surprised to find
that it was not broken, but he waved his hand to the others as he drove
the launch ahead, steering for the beach, near which he expected to find
a passage through the reef.
Before he had gone far the tug steamed towards him with the other barges
in tow, apparently bound for Adexe.
"It is not possible to go on," the skipper hailed. "Give me a rope; we
take the lighter."
"You shan't take her to Adexe," Dick shouted. "We want the coal."
Though there was danger in getting too close, the captain let the tug
drift nearer.
"We bring you the lot when the wind drops."
"No," said Dick, "I'll stick to what I've got."
He could not catch the captain's reply as the tug forged past, but it
sounded like an exclamation of anger or surprise, and he looked anxiously
for the foam upon the reef. It was some time before he distinguished a
glimmer in the dark, for the moon was hidden and his progress was slow.
The lighter was big and heavily laden, and every now and then her weight,
putting a sudden strain on the hawser, jerked the launch to a standstill.
It was worse when, lifting with the swell, she sheered off at an angle to
her course, and Dick was forced to maneuver with helm and engine to bring
her in line again, at some risk of fouling the hawser with the screw. He
knew little about towing, but he had handled small sailing boats before
he learned to use the launch. The coal was badly needed and must be taken
to Santa Brigida, though an error of judgment might lead to the loss of
the barge and perhaps of his comrade's life.
The phosphorescent gleam of the surf got plainer and the water smoother,
for the reef was now to windward and broke the sea, but the moon was
still covered, and Dick felt some tension as he skirted the barrier. He
did not know if he could find the opening or tow the lighter through the
narrow channel. The surf, however, was of help, for it flashed into
sheets of spangled radiance as it washed across the reef, leaving dark
patches among the lambent foam. The patches had a solid look, and Dick
knew that they were rocks.
At length he saw a wider break in the belt of foam, and the sharper
plunging of the launch showed that the swell worked through. This was the
mouth of the channel, and there was water enough to float the craft if he
could keep off the rocks. Snatching the engine-lamp from its socket, he
waved it and blew the whistle. A shout reached him and showed that the
others understood.
Dick felt his nerves tingle when he put the helm over and the hawser
tightened as the lighter began to swing. If she took too wide a sweep, he
might be unable to check her before she struck the reef, and there seemed
to be a current flowing through the gap. Glancing astern for a moment, he
saw her dark hull swing through a wide curve while the strain on the
hawser dragged the launch's stern down, but she came round and the
tension slackened as he steered up the channel.
For a time he had less trouble than he expected; but the channel turned
at its outer end and wind and swell would strike at him at an awkward
angle, when he took the bend. As he entered it, the moon shone out, and
he saw the black top of a rock dangerously close to leeward. He waved the
lantern, but the lighter, with sea and current on her weather bow, forged
almost straight ahead, and the straining hawser dragged the launch back.
Reaching forward, Dick opened the throttle valve to its limit, and then
sat grim and still while the throb of the screw shook the trembling hull.
Something would happen in the next half minute unless he could get the
lighter round. Glancing back, he saw her low, wet side shine in the
moonlight. Two dark figures stood aft by the tiller, and he thought the
foam about the rock was only a fathom or two away.
The launch was hove down on her side. Though the screw thudded furiously,
she seemed to gain no ground, and then the strain on the hawser suddenly
slackened. Dick wondered whether it had broken, but he would know in the
next few seconds; there was a sharp jerk, the launch was dragged to
leeward, but recovered and forged ahead. She plunged her bows into a
broken swell and the spray filled Dick's eyes, but when he could see
again the foam was sliding past and a gap widened between the lighter's
hull and the white wash on the rock.
The water was deep ahead, and since he could skirt the beach and the wind
came strongly off the land, the worst of his difficulties seemed to be
past. Still, it would be a long tow to Santa Brigida, and bracing himself
for the work, he lit his pipe.