CHAPTER XI

THE START

Rain was falling and the light had hardly reached the opening between

the tall warehouses. In the dock the water was smooth and shone with

dull reflections, but the gates were open and the muddy swell the flood

tide brought up the river splashed about the entrance. Ponderous lorries

rumbled across a bridge, indistinct figures moved and shouted on the

pierhead, and men in wet oilskins splashed about _Terrier's_ deck.

She was a battered propeller tug and lay against the wall, with large

cases of machinery lashed to her bulwarks, and a stack of coal built up

beside the engine-skylights. Her bunkers were full, but the fuel she

carried would not last very long, and coal is dear at foreign ports.

Coils of thick wire rope and diving gear occupied her shallow hold, and

Cartwright was annoyed because she could not take the massive

centrifugal pump which he had sent by an African liner. Some extra coal

and supplies were loaded on a clumsy wooden hulk, but he durst not risk

her carrying expensive machinery.

When he talked to the captain in the pilot-house, he was, on the whole,

satisfied. Brown's face was flushed and his voice was hoarse, but he

would pull himself together after he got to sea. Cartwright knew Brown's

habits when he gave him the job, although, in an important sense, the

job was Lister's. To trust the young fellow was a bold experiment, but

Cartwright did so. If Lister were not the man he thought, Cartwright

imagined his control of the line would presently come to an inglorious

end. To some extent this accounted for his bringing Barbara to see the

salvage expedition start. He knew the power of love.

Barbara had not gone up the greasy ladder to the bridge and waited on

deck. She had left home without much breakfast, in the dark, and was

cold and rather depressed. All was gloomy and strangely flat. The tug

looked small and was horribly dirty. Coal-dust covered rails and ropes;

grimy drops from the rigging splashed on the trampled black mud on deck.

The crew were not sober and their faces were black. Two or three

draggled women called to them from the pierhead, their voices sounding

melancholy and harsh.

Barbara had not seen Lister and wondered where he was, until a man

plunged out from the neighboring door of the engine-room. The abruptness

of his exit indicated that he had been rudely propelled by somebody

behind, and as he lurched across the deck, Lister appeared at the door.

His cap was dark with grease, his overalls were stained, and a black

smear ran from his eye to chin.

"Hustle and get that oil drum on the wharf, you drunken hog!" he

shouted. "If I hadn't watched out you'd have left half the truck."

He stopped when he saw Barbara. "This is very kind," he said to her. "I

knew Cartwright was on board, but hadn't hoped you would come to give us

a good send-off."

Barbara noted his satisfaction and was moved by something in his voice.

He looked thin and fine-drawn in his stained engineer's clothes, and his

hands were greasy. The surroundings were not romantic, but somehow they

got brighter and her gloom vanished. Lister's eyes sparkled; he wore the

stamp of strength and confidence.

"I doubted if my step-father would bring me, but I really meant to

come," she said. "For one thing, I wanted to ask you--"

She hesitated, for it was hard to strike the right note. She had begun

to see there was something exciting and perhaps heroic about the

adventure. The handful of men had undertaken a big thing; there was much

against them, and daunting risks must be run. Moreover, she had studied

Cartwright and remarked the anxiety he thought he had hid. Cartwright

was rather inscrutable, but sympathy had given her power to understand.

She thought he was engaged in a reckless gamble and could not afford to

lose.

"Whatever you want--" Lister declared, but she stopped him.

"I want you to do your best."

"You can reckon on that, anyhow! Cartwright has hired me; I'm his man."

Barbara smiled. "Yes; I know! You're honest and will do all you engaged;

but in a sense, this is not enough. I want you to make an extra effort,

because--"

She paused and the blood came to her skin when she went on: "You see,

it's important you should float the wreck and bring her home. It means

much to my step-father; very much, I think. He's kind and I love him. I

feel I ought to help."

Lister saw her statement was significant, and her embarrassment

indicated that she knew it was so. In fact, she had admitted that she

knew he would, for her sake, use all his powers. He was moved, but he

was not a fool. The girl, wearing her costly furs, looked rich and

dignified; he was a working engineer and conscious of his greasy

clothes. He loved her, but for a time he must be cautious. To begin

with, he would not have her think he made a claim.

"You're not very logical," he replied carelessly. "When I took the job I

undertook to earn my pay. Cartwright sends me off to float the wreck,

and if it's possible, I must make good."

"I am logical," Barbara declared, while her color came and went. "One

thinks one does one's best, but sometimes when the strain comes, one can

do better. It really isn't ridiculous! Emotion, sentiment, give one

extra force--" She stopped and resumed in a strangely gentle voice: "You

are young, and if you don't make good it won't hurt very much. Mr.

Cartwright's old; he can't try again. Then he's not my step-father only.

He's my friend, and I know he trusts you. For his sake, I must be

frank--I trust you!"

Lister smiled, but his voice betrayed him, although he thought he used

control.

"Very well! If it's possible for flesh and blood, we'll bring _Arcturus_

home. That's all. The thing's done with."

She gave him her hand, and kept the glove with the dark grease stain.

Then, seeing there was no more to be said, she looked about. Ragged

clouds rolled up from the Southwest, and the disturbed swell that

splashed about the dock gates indicated wind down channel. A shower beat

upon the engine skylights and Barbara moved beneath the bridge. A great

rope rose out of the water as the men at the winch hauled up the clumsy

hulk. Two or three others, dragging a thin, stiff wire rope, floundered

unsteadily across the deck.

"They look rough, and they're not very sober," Barbara remarked.

Lister laughed. "They're frankly drunk! A pretty hard crowd, but Brown

and I have handled a hard crowd before. In fact, I reckon Cartwright has

got the proper men for the job."

"Captain Brown is like them," said Barbara, thoughtfully. "You are not."

"You haven't seen me hustling round when things go wrong."

"I saw you throw a man out of the engine-room not long since!"

"With a gang like ours, one must prove one's claim to be boss at the

start. Anyhow, there are different kinds of wastrels, and the fellow who

gets on a jag at intervals is often a pretty good sort. The wastrel one

has no use for is the fellow who keeps it up. But I see Mr. Cartwright

coming and mustn't philosophize."

A gateman on the pierhead began to shout to the captain, and Cartwright

gave Lister his hand.

"They are waiting for you and we must get ashore," he said. "Well, I've

given you and Brown a big job, but I expect you'll see me out."

"We'll put in all we've got, sir," said Lister quietly.

Cartwright nodded, as if he were satisfied, and touched Barbara, who

turned and gave Lister a smile.

"Good luck!" she said, and following Cartwright, went up the steps in

the wall.

She thought it significant Cartwright had left her for some time and had

given Lister a quick, searching glance. Lister had said nothing about

their talk and his promise; she had known he would not do so. Yet this

was not because he was clever. He had a sort of instinctive

fastidiousness. She liked his reply to Cartwright; he _would_ put in all

he had got, and a man like that had much. Fine courage, resolution and

staunch loyalty.

When Barbara reached the pierhead, _Terrier's_ engines began to throb.

The propeller churned the green water, and the tug bumped against the

wall. Gatemen shouted, the big tow-rope splashed and tightened with a

jerk, and the hulk began to move. Then the tug's bow crept round the

corner and swung off from the gates. The engine throbbed faster, and a

blast of the whistle echoed about the warehouses. Brown waved his cap

and signed to a man in the pilot-house. The hulk swung round in a wide

sweep, and the adventurous voyage had begun.

_Terrier_, steaming across the strong current, looked small and dingy;

when she rolled as the helm went over, the swell washed her low

bulwarks. She got smaller, until a rain squall blew across from the

Cheshire side and she melted into the background of dark water and

smoke. Barbara felt strangely forlorn, and it was some relief when

Cartwright touched her arm and they set off along the wall.

After the rain the wind freshened, and when Brown steamed out from the

river, a confused sea rolled across the shoals. The light was not good,

but a double row of buoys led out to sea, the ebb-tide was running, and

_Terrier_ made good progress. She shipped no water yet, and the hulk

lurched along without much strain on the rope. The rope was fastened to

a massive iron hook and ran across a curved wooden horse at the tug's

stern. Sometimes it slipped along the horse and tightened with a bang,

for the clumsy hulk sheered about. When her stern went up one saw an

indistinct figure holding the wheel.

When they passed the Bar Lightship, Lister climbed to the bridge and for

a few minutes looked about. The plunging red hull to starboard was the

last of the Mersey marks, for the North-West ship was hidden by low

clouds. Ahead the angry gray water was broken by streaks of foam.

_Terrier_ rolled and quivered when her bows smashed a sea, and showers

of spray beat like hail against the screens on the bridge.

"She's loggish," Brown remarked. "If you don't burn up that coal soon,

she'll wash it off. Looks like a dirty night, and I'm pushing across for

Lynas Point. With the wind at south-west, I want to get under the

Anglesey coast. There'll be some sea in the channel when we open up

Holyhead."

"The boat's good," said Lister. "Engines a bit neglected, but they're

running smooth and cool, and she has power to shove her along.

Cartwright has an eye for a useful craft."

Brown nodded. "The old fellow has an eye for all that's useful; I reckon

he sees farther than any man I know. There's something encouraging about

this, because the job he's given us looks tough--"

He stopped, for the tow-rope slipped noisily across the horse. There was

a clang of iron as the hook took the strain, and the captain frowned.

"That hulk is going to bother us before very long."

Lister seized the slanted rails. The lightship had vanished, but a

bright beam pierced the haze astern. Ahead the sea was empty; gray water

rolled beneath low and ragged clouds. Spray flew about the plunging

bows, and the tug rolled uneasily. Lister turned and left the bridge,

but stopped for a few moments at the engine-room door. Barbara had stood

just opposite, where the iron funnel-stay ran down. Her rich furs gave

her girlish figure a touch of dignity, the color was in her face, and

her eyes shone.

Lister knew the picture would haunt him, and he would come to the engine

door to recapture it when he needed bracing. He would need bracing, for

there were obstacles ahead, but he had promised Barbara to help

Cartwright out. Stepping across the ledge to a slippery platform, he

went below.

PART III--THE BREAKING STRAIN

CHAPTER I

THE FIRST STRUGGLE

The engine-room floor-plates slanted, and light and shadow played about

the throbbing machinery. It looked as if the lamps swung in a

semicircle, but they did not. All else slanted at an ever-changing

angle; the swiveled lamps were still. Overhead the dark and bulky

cylinders cut against the reflected glimmer on the skylights; below,

valve-gear and connecting-rod flashed across the gloom, and the

twinkling cranks spun in their shallow pit. One saw the big columns

shake and strain as the crosshead shot up and down; the thrust-blocks

groaned with the back push of the propeller.

A door in the bulkhead was open, and now and then a blaze from the

stokehold lighted the engine-room. Shovels clanged and the thud of a

hammer jarred upon the throb of machinery. Men moved about like ghosts.

Their feet made no noise; for a moment one saw their sweat-streaked

faces and then they vanished. Lister sat on a tool-box, an old pipe in

his mouth, and was happier than he had been for long. For one thing, his

men were getting sober and he saw they knew their job; then he was

satisfied with his engines and relished the sense of control. He was

_chief_, and until the tug came back from Africa the engines were his.

In the meantime he need not move about. It was like listening to an

orchestra of which he knew all the instruments, and he heard no jarring

notes. The harmony was good and the rhythm well marked. The clash and

clang rose and fell with a measured beat; but the smooth running of his

engines did not account for all Lister's satisfaction. In a sense,

Barbara had given him his job, he was her servant, doing her work, and

this was much, although he scarcely durst hope for another reward.

Cartwright had not without careful thought sent Lister on board. He knew

the young fellow's staunchness as he knew Barbara's, and, because his

need was great, had not hesitated to use him and the girl. He was old

and must be resigned to sit at his desk and plan, but, as a rule, his

plans worked, and he had a talent for choosing his tools. When it was

possible, he used his tools carefully; he hated to overstrain fine

material.

_Terrier's_ regular lurch and roll indicated that she was steaming along

the coast, in some shelter from the wind that blew obliquely off the

land. By and by, however, the lurches got violent, and when Lister heard

the thud of water on deck he went up, and opening the door on the lee

side, looked out. Water splashed against the ledge that protected the

engine-room; the stack of coal worked and he heard big lumps fall. Spray

blew across the bulwarks and fell in heavy showers from a boat on the

skids. For a few moments this was all he could distinguish, and then he

saw slopes of water slanting away from the tug's low side. A half-moon

shone for a few moments between ragged clouds and was hidden.

Lister stepped across the ledge and went aft. _Terrier_ felt the drag of

the hulk astern, and he wanted to see how she was towing. He heard the

iron ring clang on the hook, and when he stopped by the horse, the big

tow-rope surged to and fro across the arch. The hulk steered wildly, and

if the sea got worse, he doubted if they could hold her. He knew where

he was, because he had steamed along the coast on board the cattle boat.

The Anglesey shore was fringed by reefs, the tide-races ran in white

turmoil across the ledges. The tide had now nearly run out, but when

they turned the corner at Carmel Point they would meet the flood stream

and the big combers the gale drove up channel. Going to the pilot-house,

Lister lighted his pipe.

"A fierce night!" he remarked to Brown, who peered through the

spray-swept glass. "I reckon you'll want to slow down when we make

Carmel."

The house was dark, but Lister saw the captain turn. "I'm bothered,"

Brown admitted. "We ought to push on, but while we might tow the hulk

under, we can't tow her down channel. We can't turn and run; it's

blowing down the Menai Strait like a bellows spout, and there's all the

Mersey sands to leeward. We have got to face the sea and try to make

Holyhead. Will your engines shove her through?"

"They'll give you six or seven knots, head to wind. Will your tow rope

hold?"

"I doubt. We have a steel hawser ready, but if she breaks the hemp rope

she'll probably break the wire."

Lister agreed. The thick hemp rope stretched and absorbed the strain;

the wire was less elastic. They were approaching Carmel Point, and

Holyhead was not far, but they must front the gale when they got round

the corner. In the meantime, the engines were running smoothly, and

Lister smoked and waited while the sea got worse. Flashing lights ahead

and the violent lurching indicated that they crept round the point. Then

_Terrier_ plunged into a white sea and deck and bulwarks vanished. Her

bows swung out of the foam and Lister ran to the door. He felt the tug

leap forward and knew the rope had gone.

He got out in front of Brown and plunged down the ladder. Since

_Terrier_ must be stopped and turned, he was needed. Water ran from his

clothes when he reached a slanted platform and seized a greasy wheel.

The telegraph gong was clanging and the beat of engines slackened as he

followed the orders. Then the spinning cranks stopped altogether and for

a minute or two there was a strange quietness. One heard the wind, and

water splashed in the bilges.

Lister got the signal _Ahead slow_, and when he restarted his engines

ran up the ladder. He could trust the man he left, and wanted to see

what was happening. It was a moment or two before he could satisfy his

curiosity, and then a bright beam illuminated the tug and angry water.

Brown was burning a blue-light while _Terrier_ crept up to the hulk. He

meant to pass the fresh hawser, but could not launch a boat, and Lister

doubted if the men on the hulk could heave the heavy wire rope on board.

Although one must get near to throw a line, it looked as if Brown were

going alongside.

Two dark figures, crouched on _Terrier's_ rail like animals ready to

spring, cut against the blaze. Brown was going alongside; anyhow, he was

going near enough for the men to jump, but the thing was horribly risky.

If the rolling hulk struck the tug planks and iron plates would be

beaten in; moreover the men must jump from the slanted rail, and if they

jumped short, their long boots and oilskins would drag them down.

It looked as if Cartwright knew how to choose men for an awkward job,

for as the tug got nearer Lister saw the men meant to go. She swung up

on the top of a white sea; the hulk, swept by spray, rolled down, with

her deck close below the steamer's rail. One felt they must shock, but

they did not. The dark figures leaped, there was a faint shout, a line

whirled out from _Terrier's_ bridge and the hulk drove astern. Then the

blue light vanished and Lister plunged into the engine-room. Somehow the

thing was done.

The gong signaled _Half-speed_, the rhythmic clash of engines began, and

Lister felt _Terrier_ tremble as she tightened the rope. Brown had

played his part and Lister's had begun. He wondered whether they could

keep the water out of the engine-room. They had drifted off-shore, and

now they had opened up the channel the combers leaped on board. The seas

were not regular; they ran in short, steep ridges, and gave the tug no

time to lift. While she swung her bows from the foaming turmoil the next

swept her deck. But to watch the seas and keep the hulk in line was the

captain's business, and Lister was occupied by his.

Standing on a slanted platform with his hand on the throttle, he waited

for the lurch that lifted the spinning screw. When the blades left the

water, the engines raced with a horrible din and he must cut off steam.

If he let the engines go, something might break when the propeller got

hold again. The work demanded a firm but delicate touch, since the

pressure must change with the swiftly-changing load. One could not argue

when the bows would plunge and the stern swing clear; one must know

instinctively. The muscular effort was not hard, but Lister's face was

wet with sweat, and when he was slow and the engine-room rang with the

clash of machinery his heart beat. The big columns that held the

cylinders rocked; crank and connecting-rod spun too fast for him to see.

There was a confusing flash of steel and a daunting uproar.

For the most part, he was able to get control before the stern came

down. Moreover, he was not using full steam; to let her go would swamp

the boat and wash the men off the laboring hulk. Lister knew the rope

held because he felt the heavy drag. Although she rolled and plunged,

there was no life in _Terrier's_ movements. She was sluggish,

embarrassed by the load she hauled.

Lister thought about the men on board the hulk. Two, buffeted by wind

and spray, must hold the wheel on the short quarter-deck that lifted

them above the shelter of the bulwarks. Forward of this, the water

rolled about, washing on board and pouring out. The men could not for a

moment slack their watchfulness. Sweating and straining at the spokes,

they must hold her straight. To let her sheer when she crossed a

comber's top would break the rope.

The strain on the laboring engines indicated that the men held out and

Lister fixed his thoughts on his machinery. One could not see much, but

while he turned the valve-wheel he listened. If a bearing got hot or a

brass shook loose, he would hear the jar. An engine running as it ought

to run was like a well-tuned instrument.

He heard no discord. The heavy thud of the cross-heads, flashing between

their guides, beat time to the clang of the valve-gear, a pump throbbed

like a kettledrum, and something tinkled like a high-pitched triangle.

All went well, the engines were good and _Terrier_ stubbornly forged

ahead.

By and by the strain was less marked. The load was getting lighter and

after a time Lister let go the wheel and wiped his wet face. He could

stand on the platform without support, the plunges were easy and

regular. Calling a man to relieve him, he went to the door.

The sea was white, but it no longer ran in crested ridges and a vague

dark line crossed the foam ahead. Sometimes part of the line vanished

and reappeared like a row of dots with broad gaps between. Lister knew

it was breakwater. On the other side anchor-lights tossed, and in the

background a dull, reflected illumination indicated a town. Then the

gong rang and Lister went back to the platform. In a few minutes he

would get the signal to stop his engines. The first struggle was over;

Brown had made Holyhead.

CHAPTER II

THE WRECK

The night was calm, but now and then a faint, hot wind blew from the

shadowy coast, and rippling the water, brought a strange, sour smell.

Lister did not know the smell; Brown knew and frowned, for he had been

broken by the malaria that haunts West African river mouths. Heavy dew

dripped from the awnings on _Terrier's_ bridge and in places trickled

through the material, since canvas burns in the African sun. Brown

searched the dark coast with his glasses, trying to find the marks he

had noted on the chart. Lister leaned against the rails and mused about

the voyage.

They had ridden out a winter's gale in the Bay of Biscay and for a night

had lost the hulk and the men on board. Then they went into Vigo, where

Lister's firemen wrecked a wine shop and it cost him much in bribes to

save them from jail. He had another taste of their quality at Las

Palmas, where they made trouble with the port guards and Brown brawled

in the cheap wine shops behind the cathedral. In fact, it was some

relief when the captain fell off the steam tram that runs between town

and port, and a cut on his head stopped his adventures.

Then they steamed for fourteen-hundred miles before the Northeast

Trades, with a misty blue sky overhead and long, white-topped seas

rolling up astern. The Trade breeze was cool and bracing, but they lost

it near the coast, and now the air was hot and strangely heavy. One felt

languid and cheerfulness cost an effort. The men had begun to grumble

and Lister was glad the voyage was nearly over and it was time to get to

work.

Lightning flickered on the sea, touching the back of the smooth swell,

and then for a few moments left all very dark. The moon was new, the sky

was cloudy, and the swell ran high, for it rolled, unbroken and

gathering momentum, from the Antarctic ice. When the lightning was

bright, one saw a low cloud that looked like steam, with a white streak

beneath that marked the impact of the big rollers on the sandy coast.

The crash of breakers came out of the dark, like the rattle of a goods

train crossing an iron bridge.

"Four fathoms at spring tides, and a shifting channel!" Brown remarked,

quoting from a pilot-book. "The depth, however, varies with the wind,

and a stranger must use caution when entering the lagoon." He stopped,

and laughed as he resumed: "If this was a sober undertaking I'd steam

off and wait for daylight."

"I reckon it would be prudent," said Lister dryly.

"We have nothing to do with prudence," Brown rejoined. "Our job's to

work in a sun that knocks a white man down, and stew in the hot malaria

damp the land breeze brings off at night. Cartwright's orders are to

lose no time and I want to finish before the fever finishes me. Very

well! When the moon is new, high-water's at twelve o'clock, and along

this coast sunset's about six hours later. If we wait for

noon-to-morrow, it will be four or five o'clock before we get on board

the wreck--I understand the tide doesn't leave her until about four

hours' ebb. If we push across the bar to-night, we'll see her at

daybreak and can make our plans for getting to work."

Lister agreed. Expenses were heavy and it was important they should not

lose a day. Moreover, Cartwright had hinted that he expected them to run

risks, and Lister had promised Barbara to help him out. If Brown touched

bottom steaming in, tug and barge would soon break up; but Lister was

not going to be daunted.

"I'll go down and raise some extra steam," he said. "You'll need full

pressure to shove her through the surf."

He was occupied for some time, but when a plume of steam blew from the

escape-pipe he came up to the door and looked about. _Terrier's_ languid

roll was getting sharper; mast and funnel swung into a wide sweep.

Sometimes the dark hull lurched up high above the tug's stern, and

sometimes sank in a hollow. The rollers had angry white tops, and a belt

of filmy vapor that looked luminous closed the view ahead. Lister knew

the vapor was phosphorescent spray, flung up by the turmoil on the bar,

through which they must go. If the tug struck and stopped, the white

seas would beat her down into the sand. In the meantime, she was using

full steam, because, since tide and surf carried her on, one must have

speed to steer.

The spray cloud got thick, and wavered with luminous tremblings when the

long rollers broke. They came up, spangled with green and gold flashes,

from astern, shook their fiery crests about the tug, and vanished ahead,

but one heard them crash. Lister thought the tug throbbed to the savage

concussion. He could not hear his engines; one heard nothing but the

daunting uproar.

By and by he felt a shock; not a violent shock, but as if the boat had

touched, and was pushing through, something soft. She slowed and Lister

saw the black hulk swing up and ride forward on a giant roller's top. It

looked as if she were coming on board the tug, and Lister jumped through

and slammed the iron door. Brown would need him now.

He heard the roar of water on deck, there was a crash of broken glass,

and a shower fell on his head. A cloud of steam and a loud hissing came

from the stokehold, and he knew the sea that swept the tug had covered

the gratings. If she stuck, the next sea would swamp her and drown the

fires, but she had not altogether stopped. The propeller was beating

hard and he opened the throttle wide. He felt her move and tremble, as

if she struggled in the grip of the sand, and then lift buoyantly. The

water that pressed her down had rolled off the deck and the oncoming

comber had picked her up and was carrying her along.

Her progress was obvious. One felt the headlong rush, and Lister thought

about a toboggan speeding down an icy slope. The roller would bear her

on until it broke, but if she struck the sand she might not lift again.

She did not strike; there was another wild leap forward, a savage

plunge, and a comber crashed astern. It looked as if she had crossed the

shoal and Lister let go the wheel and got his breath. He had used no

effort, but he gasped and his hand shook.

The gong signaled _half-speed_, and when he slowed his engines the roar

of escaping steam pierced the turmoil of the surf. This was significant,

because he could not have heard the steam a few minutes earlier.

_Terrier_ rolled, but the rolling was not violent and began to get easy.

The gong signaled _stand by, stop_; he shut the valve and presently

heard the anchor plunge and the rattle of running chain. Then _Terrier_

swung languidly and all was quiet but for the monotonous rumble in the

background. Lister gave some orders and went to his room.

In the morning, he put a greasy jacket over his pajamas and went on

deck. The land breeze had dropped and it was very calm. Vague trees

loomed in the fog that hid the beach; there was a belt of dull, heaving

water, and then the spray cloud closed the view. The air was heavy, the

men on deck moved slackly, and Lister's skin was wet by sweat. He felt

dull and shrank from effort, but when he saw Brown in a boat alongside

he jumped on board.

The light was getting brighter and the wreck lay about a hundred yards

off. The stump of her broken funnel, a bare iron mast, a smashed

deckhouse, and a strip of slanted side rose from the languid swell. The

rows of plates were red with rust and encrusted by shells. When the

smooth undulations sank, long weed swung about in the sandy water.

Lister thought the story of the wreck was, on the surface, plain.

Steaming out with a heavy load, _Arcturus_ had struck the bar. The surf

had beaten in her hatches, broken some plates, and afterwards washed her

back across the sand. Then, while the captain tried to reach the beach,

she had sunk in deeper water. The story was plausible, but, if

Cartwright had found the proper clew, it did not account for all.

They rowed round _Arcturus_. She lay with a sharp list and her other

side was under water. The tide was beginning to rise and when it crept

up her slanted deck they pulled back to the tug.

"We'll moor the hulk alongside and rig the diving pumps. I think that's

all to-day," Brown remarked. "When the sun is low I'll go to the factory

up the creek and try to hire some native boys. On this coast, a white

man who does heavy work soon gets fever."

In the afternoon they took two men and rowed up a muddy creek that

flowed into the lagoon, but the factory was farther than they thought

and when they landed dusk was falling. The white-washed wooden house

stood near the bank, with a stockaded compound between it and the water.

It was built on piles and at the top of the outside stairs a veranda ran

along the front. The compound was tunneled by land-crabs' holes, and

light mist crept about the giant cotton woods behind. There was no

movement of air, a sickly smell rose from the creek, and all was very

damp.

Lister and Brown went up the stairs and were received by a white man in

a big damp room. A lamp hung from a beam and the light touched the

patches of mildew on the discolored walls. There was not much furniture;

a few canvas chairs, a desk and a table. Flies crawled about the table

and hovered in a black swarm round the lamp. The room smelt of palm oil

and river mud. The white man was young, but his face was haggard and he

looked worn. His rather long hair was wet and his duck jacket was dirty.

It was obvious that he did not bother about his clothes.

"Good of you to look me up! I expect you know I'm Montgomery; the house

is Montgomery and Raeburn," he said. "However, to begin with, you had

better have a drink. I'll call my boy."

A negro came in and got a bottle and some glasses. He was a

strongly-built fellow with a blue stripe on his forehead, and muscular

arms and chest, but his legs, which stuck out from short cotton

trousers, were ridiculously thin. He beat up some frothy liquor in a jug

and when he filled the big glasses Lister felt disturbed, for he knew

Brown and had noted the quantity of gin the negro used. The captain,

however, was cautious and they began to talk. Lister asked Montgomery if

he carried on the factory alone.

"I'm doing so for a time. My clerk died two or three weeks since and I

haven't got another yet."

"Fever?" said Brown.

"Common malaria. Perhaps this spot is worse than others, because,

although we're beginning to kill mosquitos and poison the drains, we

can't keep English boys. The last two didn't hold out six months."

Lister got thoughtful. He knew the African coast was unhealthy, but had

not imagined it was as bad as this. He said nothing and Montgomery

resumed: "I have been forced to lie up and am shaky yet. Malaria gets us

all, but as a rule it gets strangers, particularly the young, soonest.

Looks as if the microbe liked fresh blood."

"If I was an African merchant, I'd let an agent run my factories," Brown

remarked.

Montgomery smiled. "Sometimes it's necessary for me to come out. This

factory is perhaps our best, and when Nevis, our agent, died, I started

by the first boat. Montgomery's is an old house, but since the big men

combined and the Amalgamation built a factory on the next creek, we have

had some trouble to pull along. Our capital is small and we can't use

up-to-date methods. In fact, I imagine our situation is much like

Cartwright's. When he bought the wreck he no doubt felt some strain. But

won't you take another drink?"

Brown indicated his glass, which still held some liquor, and Lister

refused politely. He noted that Montgomery knew their object and was

surprised, since he thought Cartwright had not talked much about the

undertaking. Then, although Montgomery was obviously ill, one felt he

tried to paint the coast in the darkest colors.

"What do you think about our job?" Brown asked.

"I think it a rash experiment and imagine Cartwright agrees. All the

same, the old fellow's a bold gambler and is perhaps willing to

speculate on the chance of getting out of his embarrassments. However,

this is his business and you'll, no doubt, get your wages, although you

won't float the wreck."

"What do you reckon the obstacles?"

"Fever," said Montgomery dryly. "The salvage people lost some men. Surf

will wash the sand about her, if the wind comes fresh from the

south-east. Then the sharks may give you some trouble. They're nearly as

numerous as they are at Lagos Roads." He paused and added carelessly: "I

expect you know my father loaded _Arcturus_?"

"I heard something about it," Brown replied. "All the same, Cartwright

sent us to lift her and we have got to try. Will you let me hire some of

your factory boys?"

"Sorry, but they're Liberian Kroos, engaged on a twelve-months' contract

to work in my compound, and I'm accountable for them to the Liberian

government."

"Then what about boys from the bush?"

Montgomery smiled. "I can't recommend the bushmen. They're a turbulent

lot, but you might send a present to the headman at the native town up

river, and it's possible he'll let you go to see him. For all that, some

caution's indicated. The fellow's a cunning old rascal."

Brown looked thoughtful, but began to talk about something else and by

and by got up. Montgomery went with him and Lister to the steps and when

they reached the compound they found the sailors bemused with gin under

the veranda. Brown had some trouble to get the men on board, and when

they awkwardly pulled away Lister was conscious of relief.

"I agree with the fellow. Caution _is_ indicated," Brown observed.

CHAPTER III

A FUEL PROBLEM

A few days after his visit to the factory, Lister sat one morning under

a tarpaulin they had stretched across the hulk. The paint on the canvas

smelt as if it burned, but the awning gave some shade and one could not

front the sun on the open deck. The sea breeze had not sprung up and

dazzling reflections played about the oily surface of the swell. In one

place, where the shadow of the wreck fell, the water was a cool, dull

green.

A row of bubbles slowly crossed the belt of shade, stopped and made a

frothy patch, and then lengthened out. A flexible pipe slipped across

the edge of the open gangway, and Lister felt the line he held. The line

was slack and he knew the diver needed nothing. Two half-naked men,

their skins shining with sweat, turned the air-pumps handles, and the

rattle of the cranks cut the dull rumble of the surf. Brown, sitting on

a tool-box, studied a plan of the wreck Cartwright had given him, and

Lister thought it typical Cartwright had got the plan. The old fellow

was very keen.

By and by Brown looked up and indicated the panting men.

"We want colored boys for this job and must get a gang. I expect you

noted Montgomery declared his lot were Kroos. The Kroos are hefty boys

and pretty good sailors, but they come from Liberia and there are

regulations about their employment. You must engage them on a contract,

hold yourself accountable for their return and so forth. All the same my

notion is, Montgomery didn't mean to help."

"Then we had better try the native headman he talked about."

Brown smiled, "I've no use for bushmen, but didn't see much use in

telling Montgomery I'd been on the Coast before. For one thing, his boys

were not all Kroos. You know the Kroo by his blue forehead-stripe, but I

saw two or three with another mark. Thought them Gold Coast Fantis, and

a Fanti fisherman is useful on board ship. In a day or two I'm going

back to see."

Lister lighted his pipe and weighed the captain's remarks. On the whole,

he agreed that it did not look as if Montgomery meant to help. The

fellow was hospitable, but hospitality that implied his pressing liquor

on the captain and making the sailors drunk had drawbacks. Brown had

used control, but Lister doubted if his resolution would stand much

strain. Then, although Montgomery's story about the need for his being

on the spot was plausible, it was, perhaps, strange the head of a

merchant house would stop for some time at a factory where his clerks

died. However, now Lister thought about it, Montgomery did not state if

he had been there long.

"The fellow was generous with his liquor and his boy can mix a

cocktail," he remarked.

Brown grinned. "On the Coast, they're all generous with liquor.

Montgomery knows this; but I've a notion you are wondering whether he

knows me. I reckon not, but he knows the kind of skipper you generally

meet in the palm oil trade. Still the type's going out; now ship-owners

pay higher, they get better men. In fact, I'm something of a survival

from the old school."

He picked up the plan and Lister thought about Montgomery. The man was

ill and highly-strung, but this was not strange. The factory was rather

a daunting spot; reeking with foul smells and haunted by a sense of

gloom. Lister thought one might get morbid and imaginative if one

stopped there long. Yet he rather liked Montgomery; there was something

attractive about him. Perhaps if they had met in brighter surroundings,

when the other's health and mood were normal, they might have been

friends. Now, however, he doubted and saw Brown was not satisfied.

The line he held jerked and he signed to the men at the pump. One kept

the cranks turning; the other went to the top of a ladder lashed to the

hulk's side. The bubbles moved away from the wreck and broke the surface

in a fixed, sparkling patch. The diver was coming up and Lister

presently helped him on board. When they had taken off his copper helmet

and unfastened his canvas he leaned against the pump and breathed hard.

"Well?" said Brown, after waiting a minute or two for the man to get

back his normal breathing.

"She lies with a sharp list; sand's high up her starboard bilge.

Engine-room doors jambed, but I found the stokehold grating and got some

way down the ladder. Sand's washed down and buried the starboard

bunkers. To clear out the stuff will be a long job."

"Packed hard?"

The diver nodded. "Like cement! I reckon the pump won't move it."

Lister understood the captain's frown. Sometimes the sand that enters a

sunken vessel solidifies, with the pressure of surf or tide, into a mass

that one can hardly dig out. This, however, was not all.

"Starboard bunkers buried?" Brown resumed. "They were pretty full. When

she left Forcados she had a list to port, and they trimmed her by using

the coal on that side first. Well, it's awkward! I reckoned on getting

the fuel!"

"There is some coal on the port side," said Lister.

"If Cartwright's plan and notes are accurate, there's not enough to see

us out. The wrecking pump will burn a lot," Brown rejoined and turned to

the diver. "Did you see any sharks?"

"One big fellow; he hung about as if he was curious and I didn't like

him near my air-pipe, but he left me alone. The pulps you meet in warm

seas are worse than sharks. When I was down at the Spanish boat,

crawling through the holes in her broken hull was nervous work. Once I

saw an arm as thick as mine waving in the dark, and started for the

ladder. We blew in that piece of her bilge with dynamite before I went

on board again. However, when I've cleared up a bit, I'll take Mr.

Lister down."

The diver got into the boat and rowed to the tug, but the others stopped

in the shade of the awning. They had brought a spare diving dress, and

before they tried to lift the wreck Lister must find out if Cartwright's

supposition was correct, because if Cartwright had found the proper clew

the job would be easier. For all that, Lister frankly shrank from the

preparatory exercise. Diving in shark-haunted water had not much charm.

In the morning they hauled the tug alongside the wreck and at low-water

rigged a derrick and opened the fore hatch. The palm kernels had rotted

and a horrible pulpy mass, swollen by fermentation, rose nearly to the

ledge. It was glutinous and too thick for the pump to lift, since the

water that filled the vessel drained away through the broken plates as

the tide sank. Brown, kneeling on the hatch-coaming, knitted his brows.

"The stuff's water-borne, forced up by its buoyancy," he said. "We may

find it looser as we get down. In the meantime, suction's no use; we

have got to break it out by hand. Start your winch and we'll fill the

skip."

Lister signaled a man on board the tug, the winch rattled, and a big

iron bucket, hanging by a wire rope, dropped into the hold. A gang of

men climbed across the ledge and began to cut the slimy mass with

spades. The surface heaved beneath them like a treacherous bog and the

smell was horrible. Now and then a spade made an opening for the gases

to escape and the nauseated men were driven back. For all that, they

filled the skip and the swinging derrick carried the load across the

deck and tilted it overboard.

The heat was almost unbearable, the reflections from the oily swell and

wet deck hurt one's eyes, and Lister noted that the deck did not dry

until the sea breeze began to blow. The wind brought a faint coolness

and drove back the smell, but the men's efforts presently got slack. The

labor was exhausting and one must wear some clothes because the sun

burned one's skin. They held out until the rising water drove them from

the hatch and when they went back to the tug Brown looked thoughtful.

"The men can't keep it up; the thing's impossible! A week like this

would knock out the lot," he said. "We must use native boys and I'm

going to get some."

In the morning Lister took his first diving lesson, and when the big

copper helmet was screwed on and the air began to swell his canvas

clothes, he shrank from the experiment. The load of metal he carried was

crushing, he could hardly drag his weighted boots across the deck, and

at the top of the ladder he hesitated, watching the bubbles that marked

the spot where the diver had vanished. Then he remembered his promise to

Barbara and cautiously went down.

The dazzling sunshine vanished, a wave of misty green closed above the

helmet glass, hot compressed air blew about his head, and his ear-drums

began to throb. Then lead and copper lost their weight; he felt buoyant

and clung to the steps. At the bottom he was for a few moments afraid to

let go, but an indistinct, monstrous object came out of the strange

green gloom and beckoned him on. Lister went, making an effort for

balance, because he now felt ridiculously light. Then the reflections

were puzzling, for the light came and went with the rise and fall of the

swell. Yet he could see and he followed the diver until they stopped

opposite the wreck's port bilge. Her side went up like a dark wall,

covered by waving weed.

Lister's head ached and his breathing was labored, but not much pressure

was needed to keep out the shallow water and the diver had promised to

warn him when they had stayed long enough. He forced himself to examine

the plate the other indicated. _Arcturus_ was a butt-strapped vessel and

a number of the straps had burst. Plates were smashed and some of the

holes were large, but in places the iron was drilled and in others

patches had been bolted on. The salvage company had done part of this

work and he thought it possible to make the damage good. If they could

stop the remaining holes, the big pump ought to throw out the water; but

Cartwright had talked about another opening and this would be awkward to

reach.

Signing the diver to go on, he followed him round the vessel's stern.

The sand on the other side was high and one could climb on board, but

Lister shrank from the dark alleyway that led to the engine-room. For

all that, he went in and saw the diver had opened the jambed door. When

he reached the ledge a flash from the other's electric lamp pierced the

gloom and he tried to forget his throbbing head and looked about.

Sparkling bubbles from his and the diver's helmets floated straight up

to the skylights, along which they glided and vanished through a hole in

the glass. The water, moving gently with the pulse of the swell, broke

the beam of light and objects it touched were distorted and magnified.

The top of the big low-pressure cylinder looked gigantic, and the thick

columns appeared to bend. Long weed clung to the platforms, from which

iron ladders went down, but so far as Lister could distinguish, all

below was buried in sand.

He had seen enough. To clear the engines would be a heavy task, and one

must work in semi-darkness amidst a maze of ladders, gratings, and

machinery. To keep signal-line and air-pipe free from entanglement

looked impossible, but perhaps when they had broken the surface the pump

would lift the sand. Anyhow, he was getting dizzy and his breath was

labored.

He touched the diver and they went back along the alleyway and round the

vessel's stern. Lister was desperately anxious to reach the ladder and

it cost him an effort to use control. As he went up his dress got heavy

and he was conscious of his weighted boots. The pressure on his lungs

lessened, he was dazzled by a strong light, and feeling the edge of the

hulk's deck, he got his knee on her covering-board and lurched forward.

Somebody took off his helmet and lifted the weight from his chest. He

shut his eyes and for a few moments lay on the deck.

"Well?" said Brown presently. "You reached the engine-room?"

Lister nodded. "She's badly sanded up. It's plain we shan't get much

coal from the starboard bunkers until we can lift her to an even keel."

"That will be long," Brown rejoined and pondered. "We must have coal,"

he resumed. "If I can't find another plan, you must take the tug to

Sierra Leone and bring a load; but we'll let it go just now. The first

thing is to hire some negro laborers, and as soon as I can leave the

wreck I'll try again."

CHAPTER IV

MONTGOMERY'S OFFER

High-water was near and a trail of smoke, creeping up along the coast,

streaked the shining sea. Brown watched the smoke until two masts and a

funnel rose out of the vapor and began to get distinct. Then he put down

his glasses and lighted his pipe. The steamer was making for the lagoon.

He had not long since gone to the native town up the creek and returned

with a gang of laborers. So far, the negroes had worked well, but just

now he did not need them and they lay about in the shade, some wearing a

short waist-cloth and some a sheet of cotton that hung from their

shoulders. The tide had covered the wreck, but the big rotary pump was

running and, since the men had loosened the top of the cargo, it lifted

the slimy stuff.

A plume of steam that looked faint and diaphanous in the strong light

blew away from the noisy machine. A large flexible pipe rose from the

submerged hold and another ran from the pump across the hulk's deck.

From the end of the pipe a thick, brown flood poured into the water and

stained the green lagoon as the flood tide carried it along. The clash

and rattle of the engine carried far, for the load was heavy and Lister

was using full steam. The boiler was large and the furnace burned more

coal than he had thought. Sometimes palm kernels that had not altogether

rotted jambed the fans, and he held the valve-wheel, trying to ease the

shocks, while the perspiration dripped from his blistered skin. When

Brown indicated the steamer he looked up.

"She's coming in; I think I know the hooker," the captain remarked.

"Shallow-draught, coasting tank; goes anywhere she'll float for twenty

tons of freight. The skipper, no doubt, expects Montgomery's got a few

hogsheads of oil, and it's possible he'll sell us some coal. The

parcels-vanners are pretty keen to trade."

"We want coal," said Lister and turned abruptly.

The pump jarred and stopped, the swollen suction pipe shrank, and the

splash of the discharge died away. For some time Lister was occupied and

when he restarted the engine and looked about again the steamer was

steering for the hulk. She was a small vessel, going light, with much of

her rusty side above water. A big surf-boat hung, ready for lowering, at

her rail and a wooden awning covered her bridge-deck. When the throb of

her engines slackened two or three white men leaned over her bulwarks

and looked down at the hulk with languid curiosity. Their faces were

haggard and their poses slack. The stamp of the fever-coast was plain.

The telegraph rang, the engines stopped, and a man on the bridge

shouted: "Good morning! You have taken on an awkward job!"

His voice was hollow and strained, and by contrast Brown's sounded full

and hearty.

"We're getting ahead all the same. Where are you for?"

"_Sar_ Leone, after we call at Montgomery's."

"Then you can fill your bunkers, and our coal's getting short. Can you

sell us some?"

The other asked how much Brown wanted and how much he would pay. Then he

beckoned a man on the deck to come up, and turned to Brown again.

"We might give you two or three surf-boat loads, but I'll see you when

we come back. We must get up the creek and moor her before the tide

ebbs."

He seized the telegraph handle, the propeller began to turn, and when

the steamer forged ahead Brown looked thoughtful.

"Perhaps I'd better take a trip up the creek in the evening. We want the

coal and I don't altogether trust Montgomery," he said.

Lister agreed that it might be prudent for Brown to go, but he was

occupied by the pump and they said no more. To lift the cargo when the

water covered the wreck's hatches and loosened the pulpy mass was easier

and he must keep his engine running full speed. When they stopped he was

exhausted by the heat and the strain of watching and did not go with

Brown.

The captain did not, as he had promised, come back in the morning, but

after a time a smoke-trail streaked the forest and the steamer moved out

on the lagoon. Lister sent a boy for the glasses, since he expected

Brown was on board, but so far as he could see, the captain was not. The

white wave at the bows indicated that the vessel was steaming fast and

it did not look as if she was going to stop. In order to reach the

channel across the bar, she must pass near the hulk, and Lister waved to

the captain.

"What about the coal?" he shouted.

The other leaned out from the rails and Lister, studying him with the

glasses, saw a small patch, like sticking plaster, on his forehead. The

side of his face was discolored, as if it were bruised, and frowning

savagely, he shook his fist.

"You can go to _Sar_ Leone or the next hottest spot for your coal!" he

roared and began to storm.

Lister had sometimes disputed with Western railroad hands and marine

firemen, but he thought the captain's remarks equaled the others' best

efforts. In fact, it was some relief when a lump of coal, thrown by a

sailor on the hulk, crashed upon the wooden awning, and for a moment the

savage skipper paused. For all that, Lister stopped the sailor, who was

going to throw another block.

"Hold on! The stuff is valuable!" he said.

The captain began again, but the steamer had forged ahead, and his voice

got fainter and was presently drowned by the beat of the screw. Lister

went back to the pump. The machine was running unevenly and sometimes

the powerful engine jarred. He meant to take it down, but so long as the

pump sucked up the kernels he durst not stop. Speed was important; they

must finish the job and get away before the heat and malaria wore them

out. In the meantime, he was disturbed about Brown, who ought to have

returned, and at sunset he started for the factory in the tug's second

boat.

Dark came suddenly and when he landed a hot, clammy fog thickened the

gloom. Little fires the factory boys had lighted by ancient custom

twinkled in the haze and a yellow beam from the veranda windows touched

the towering cottonwoods, but all else was dark and the spot was somehow

forbidding. One felt the gloom was sinister. A few miles up the creek,

the naked bushmen served their savage gods with fantastic rites and the

Ju-Ju men and Ghost Leopards ruled the shadowy land. At the factory

white men got sick and died.

Lister went up the steps, and entering the big room, saw Montgomery in a

Madeira chair. His face was wet by sweat, but although his thin form was

covered by a blanket he shook with ague. Brown occupied a rude couch,

made from two long boxes in which flintlock guns are shipped. He lay in

an ungainly pose, his head had fallen from a cushion, and his face was

dark with blood. His eyes were shut and he breathed with a snoring

noise.

"What's the matter with the captain?" Lister asked, although he thought

he knew.

"He's exhausted by his efforts and the worse for liquor," Montgomery

answered with a laugh. "On the whole, I think you had better let him

sleep. Perhaps you remarked that some of the glass is broken and two of

my chairs are smashed!"

Lister had not remarked this, but he looked about and began to

understand. He had seen Brown throw a Spanish landlord out of a Grand

Canary wine shop.

"Your captain arrived when the steamboat men were dining with me,"

Montgomery resumed. "In this country we're a hospitable lot and it's the

custom to send West African factories a supply of liquor every three

months. Mine arrived not long since, and if you open the cupboard you'll

see how much is left. But there are cigarettes in the tin box; they

mildew unless they're canned. Make yourself a cocktail. I don't want to

get up and my boy's in the compound, playing a drum to keep off the

ghosts."

Lister lighted a cigarette and listened. A monotonous, rhythmic throb

stole into the room, and he felt there was something about the noise

that jarred.

"I'll cut out the cocktail. You're rather generous with your liquor," he

remarked dryly. "But how did the trouble Brown made begin?"

"By a dispute about some coal."

"Ah!" said Lister, who looked at Montgomery hard.

He imagined the steamboat captain had meant to give them coal, since the

man had agreed with Brown about the price. In fact, it looked as if he

had been willing to do so, until he arrived at the factory. Then he

refused, and Brown, no doubt, got savage.

Montgomery was not embarrassed and indicated the unconscious skipper.

"If Cartwright's not losing his keenness, it's strange he sent out a man

like this, but perhaps he couldn't get a sober captain to go."

"Brown has some talents. For example, he got the boys we wanted,

although you refused to help."

"We must see if he can keep them!" Montgomery rejoined, with a meaning

smile. "In the meantime, it's not important. Are you making much

progress at the wreck?"

Lister admitted that they were not getting on as fast as he had hoped,

and when Montgomery gave him a keen glance tried to brace himself. He

felt slack and his head ached. He had been getting slack recently, and

now, when he imagined he must be alert, to think was a bother.

"You have not been long at the lagoon, but you're beginning to feel the

climate," the other remarked. "It's perhaps the unhealthiest spot on an

unhealthy coast, and a white man cannot work in the African sun.

However, you know why the salvage company threw up their contract. They

lost a number of their men and if you stay until the morning you can see

their graves. The rest of the gang had had enough and were too sick to

keep the pump running."

"You are not encouraging," Lister observed.

"I don't exaggerate. I know the country and the caution one must use,

but you see I'm ill."

The thing was obvious. Montgomery's hollow face was wet by sweat, his

eyes were dull, and his hands shook. Lister saw he tried to be cool, but

thought him highly strung.

"If you're wise, you'll give up your post and get away before fever

knocks you out," Montgomery resumed. "In fact, I think I can promise you

another berth. The house owns two or three factories and at one we are

going to start a big oil-launch running to a native market up river.

Then we have bought new machinery for breaking palm nuts and extracting

the kernels and have fixed a site for the building at a dry, sandy spot.

I don't claim the neighborhood's healthy, but it's healthier than this,

and we have inquired about an engineer. Would you like the post?"

"I think not. I'm Cartwright's man. I've taken his pay."

Montgomery smiled ironically. "Let's be frank! I expect you want to

force me to make a high bid. You don't know the African coast yet, but

you're not a fool and are beginning to understand the job you have

undertaken. You can't float the wreck; the fellow Cartwright sent to

help you is a drunken brute, and I have grounds for thinking Cartwright,

himself, will soon go broke. Well, we need an engineer and I'll admit we

have not found good men keen about applying. If you can run the launch

and palm-nut plant, we'll give you two hundred pounds bonus for breaking

your engagement, besides better wages than Cartwright pays."

Lister knitted his brows and lighted a fresh cigarette. He was not

tempted, but he wanted to think and his brain was dull. To begin with,

he wondered whether Montgomery did not think him something of a fool,

because it was plain the fellow had grounds for offering a bribe. His

doing so indicated that he did not want the wreck floated. Anyhow,

Montgomery had imagined he would not hesitate to break his engagement

for two hundred pounds. He must be cautious and control his anger.

"On the whole, it wouldn't pay me to turn down Cartwright's job," he

said. "Two hundred pounds is not a very big wad, and if we can take the

boat home I reckon the salvage people would give me a good post. I must

wait until I'm satisfied the thing's impossible."

"When you are satisfied I'll have no object for engaging you. We want an

engineer now," Montgomery replied.

"Well," said Lister, "I reckon that is so." He paused, and thinking he

saw where the other led, resolved to make an experiment. "All the same,

since you are willing to buy me off, it looks as if we had a fighting

chance to make good. Then, if I am forced to quit, I rather think you'd

pay me something not to talk. For example, if I put Cartwright wise--"

Montgomery gave him a scornful smile. "You're keener than I thought, but

you can't tell Cartwright much he doesn't believe he knows. I'll risk

your talking to somebody else."

"Oh, well," said Lister, "I guess we'll let it go. In the meantime, I'll

get off and take the captain along. I allow you have fixed him pretty

good but he put his mark on the steamboat man and your furniture."

He called the sailors, and finding the two who had brought Brown to the

factory, carried him downstairs and put him on board the boat. The

captain snored heavily and did not awake. When they pushed off, and with

the other boat in tow drifted down the creek, Lister pondered.

He did not know if he had well played his part, but he had not wanted

Montgomery to think his staunchness to his employer must be reckoned on;

he would sooner the fellow thought him something of a fool. When

Montgomery offered the bribe he probably knew he was rash; his doing so

indicated that he was willing to run some risk, and this implied that

Cartwright's supposition about the wreck was justified. Montgomery was

obviously resolved she should not be floated and might be a troublesome

antagonist. For example, he had stopped their getting coal and Lister

was persuaded he had made Brown drunk. If the control the captain had so

far used broke down, it would be awkward, since Montgomery would no

doubt supply him with liquor.

It was plain the fellow meant to bother them as much as possible, but

since he had not owned the wrecked steamer his object was hard to see.

In the meantime, Lister let it go and concentrated on steering the boat

past the mud banks in the creek.

CHAPTER V

MONTGOMERY USES HIS POWER

Some time after Lister went to the factory he woke one night from

disturbed sleep. His small room under _Terrier's_ bridge was very hot

and the door and port were open. A faint draught blew in and the

mosquito curtain moved about his bed. The tug rolled languidly and the

water splashed against her side. Farther off the gentle swell broke with

a dull murmur across the wreck.

This was all, but Lister was persuaded he had, when half awake, heard

something else. At dusk a drum had begun to beat across the lagoon and

the faint monotonous noise had jarred. It was typically African; the

negroes used drums for signaling, although white men had not found out

their code. Lister had come to hate all that belonged to the fever

coast.

The drum, however, was not beating now, and he rather thought he had

heard the splash of a canoe paddle. There was no obvious reason this

should bother him, but he was bothered and after a few minutes got up

and put on a thin jacket. On deck it was very hot and he felt the warmth

of the iron plates through his slippers. In West Africa one puts on

slippers as soon as one gets out of bed, for fear of the jigger insect

that bores into one's foot. A gentle land breeze blew across the lagoon

and the air was hot and damp like steam. Lister smelt river mud and

aromatic forest.

There was no moon, but he saw the dark hull rise and fall, and the flash

of phosphorescent foam where the swell washed across the deck. In the

distance, the surf rumbled and now and then there was a peal of thunder.

Lister wondered why he had left his berth. He was tired and needed

sleep, for he had been occupied all day at the pump, which was not

running well. Recently he had been conscious of a nervous strain and

things that were not important annoyed him; then he often woke at night,

feeling that some danger threatened.

Walking along the deck he found a white sailor sitting on the windlass

drum. The man did not move until Lister touched his arm.

"Did you hear something not very long since, Watson?"

"No, sir," said the other with a start. "Now and then a fish splashed

and she got her cable across the stem. Links rattled. That was all."

Lister thought the man had slept, but it was not important, since there

was no obvious necessity for keeping anchor watch.

"Did you hear something, sir?" the other inquired.

"I don't know. I imagine I did!"

The sailor laughed, as if he understood. "A queer country; I've been

here before! Beautiful, bits of it; shining surf, yellow sands, and

palms, but it plays some funny tricks with white men. About half of them

at the factories get addled brains if they stay long. Believe in things

the bushmen believe, ghosts and magic, and such. Perhaps it's the

climate, but on this coast you get fancies you get nowhere else. I'd

sooner take look-out on the fo'cas'le in a North Sea gale than keep

anchor watch in an African calm."

Lister nodded. He thought the man felt lonely and wanted to talk and he

sympathized. There was something insidious and daunting about the

African coast. He walked round the deck and then returning to his room

presently went to sleep.

At daybreak he heard angry voices and going out found Brown storming

about the deck. Two white sailors had come back in the boat from the

hulk, with the news that the negroes berthed on board her had vanished

in the night, except for three or four whom the sailors had brought to

the tug. When Brown got cooler he went up to the men who squatted

tranquilly on the hatch. They were big muscular fellows and wore,

instead of the usual piece of cotton, ragged duck clothes.

"Where's the rest of the gang?" Brown asked.

"No savvy, sah," said one. "Some fella put them t'ing Ju-Ju on him and

he lib for bush."

"What's a Ju-Ju?" Lister inquired.

"Hocus-pocus, magic of a sort," the captain growled. "When a white man

knows much about Ju-Ju his proper place is an asylum." He turned to the

boys. "How did them other fellows go?"

"No savvy, sah. We done hear not'ing."

"I expect they were afraid to meddle," Brown remarked, and resumed: "Why

did you lib for stop?"

"We Accra boy; white man's boy. Them bushman him d--n fool too much. Run

in bush like monkey, without him clo'es."

Brown knitted his brows and then made a sign of resignation. "I reckon

it's all we'll know! Well, the tide's falling and we must shift for some

kernels before the sun is hot. Better start your pump."

The pump was soon at work, and Lister, watching the engine, mused. He

wondered how much the Accra boys knew, or if it was possible the others

had stolen away without waking them. Watson, the look-out, had heard

nothing, and Lister remembered Brown's remarks about the Ju-Ju and

thought the boys did know something but were afraid to tell. Watson had

said the country was queer, and if he meant fantastic, Lister agreed.

There was something about it that re-acted strangely on one's

imagination. In the North American wilds, one was, so to speak, a

materialist and conquered savage Nature by using well-known rules. In

Africa one did not know the rules and felt the power of the

supernatural. It looked as if there was a mysterious, malignant force.

But the pump was running badly and Lister saw he must not philosophize.

When the sun got hot he stopped for breakfast and afterwards he and

Brown smoked for a few minutes under the awning.

"I'm bothered about the boys' going," the captain declared. "There's not

much doubt Montgomery got somebody to put Ju-Ju on them; bribed a

magician to frighten them by a trick. Since they're a superstitious lot,

I reckon we can't hire another gang in this neighborhood. However, now

he's stopped our coal, you'll have to go to _Sar_ Leone, and may pick up

some British Kroos about the port."

"Then I'd better go soon," said Lister. "The braces I bolted on the pump

won't hold long; she rocks and strains the shaft when she's running

hard. I must get a proper casting made at a foundry. Besides, the engine

crosshead's worn and jumps about. I must try to find a forge and

machine-shop."

"They've got something of the kind at _Sar_ Leone; I don't know about a

foundry," Brown replied. "Take Learmont to navigate, and start when you

like. We'll shift the hulk to leeward of the wreck and she ought to ride

out a south-east breeze."

Lister sailed a few days afterwards, and reaching Sierra Leone found

nobody could make the articles he required. For all that, they must be

got, and he resolved to push on for Grand Canary. The distance was long,

he had not men enough for an ocean voyage, and would be lucky if he got

back to the lagoon in three or four weeks, but if he could not mend the

pump, the salvage work must stop. Lister knew when to run a risk was

justified.

After he passed the Gambier, wind and sea were ahead, his crew was

short, and he was hard pressed to keep the engine going and watch the

furnaces. He slept when he could, in snatches, with his clothes on, and

now and then used an exhausted fireman's shovel On the steamy African

coast the labor and watchfulness would have worn him out, but the cool

Trade breeze was bracing. Although he was thin, and got thinner, the

lassitude he had felt at the lagoon vanished, and the fatigue he fought

against was not the fatigue that kills.

In the meantime, _Terrier_ pushed stubbornly north across the long,

foam-tipped seas that broke in clouds of spray against her thrusting

bows. She was swept by the sparkling showers, but the showers were warm,

and the combers were not often steep enough to flood her deck. For all

that, their impact slowed her speed. She must be driven through their

tumbling crests, full steam was needed to overcome the shock, and the

worn-out men moved down coal from the stack on deck to feed the hungry

fires.

Lister's eyes ached from the glare of smoky lamps that threw puzzling

lights about the machinery. After long balancing on slanted platforms,

his back and legs were sore; his brows were knit in a steady frown, and

his mouth was always firm. When the strain was over, he sometimes

wondered what he thought about in the long, exhausting watches, but

remembered nothing except his obstinate concentration on his task. The

strange thing was, he did not think much about Barbara, although he was

vaguely conscious that, for her sake, he must hold out. He meant to hold

out. Perhaps his talents were not numerous, but he could handle engines,

and when it was necessary he could keep awake.

At length, Learmont called him one morning to the bridge, and he leaned

slackly against the rails. His eyes were dull, and for some hours he had

breathed the fumes of burning tallow. A slide had given him trouble; he

could keep the metal cool. On the bridge, however, the air was keen and

sweet, and he felt the contrast. _Terrier_ plunged and threw the spray

about, but the seas were short, as if something ahead broke the wind. By

and by Learmont indicated a lofty bank of mist.

"Teneriffe!" he said. "I was half-asleep when I took the sun, but my

reckoning was not very far out."

Lister looked up. In the distance a sharp white cone, rising from fleecy

vapor, cut the sky, and Lister, with dull satisfaction, knew the famous

peak. Nearer the tug was another bank of mist, that looked strangely

solid but ragged, as if it were wrapped about something with a broken

outline. Some minutes afterwards a high, dark object like a

mountain-top, loomed in the haze.

"Grand Canary!" Learmont remarked. "The range behind Las Palmas town. I

expect the smudge ahead is the Isleta hill."

"We've made it!" Lister said hoarsely, and braced himself. Now the

strain was gone, he felt very slack.

The sun rose out of the water, the mist began to melt, and rolling back,

uncovered a line of surf and a belt of rough hillside. Then volcanic

cliffs, a sandy isthmus, and a cluster of masts and funnels got

distinct, and Lister fixed the glasses on a white stripe across a cinder

hill. His hand shook, but he steadied the glasses and saw the stripe was

a row of huge letters.

"... _ary Engineering Co_ ..." he read.

His heart beat when he went below. Luck had given him a hard job, but he

had put it across. Soon after _Terrier_ arrived he went to the

engineering company's office and the manager looked at him curiously.

Then he gave Lister some wine and, after studying his drawings and

patterns, said he could make the things required. Lister drove to the

town, and going to a Spanish barber's, started when he saw his

reflection in a glass. He had not shaved for long, and fresh water was

scarce on board the tug. His face was haggard, the engine grime had got

into his skin, and his eyes were red. He was forced to wait, and while

the barber attended to other customers, he fell asleep in his chair.

When he left the shop he went to a hotel and slept for twelve hours.

CHAPTER VI

LISTER MEETS AN OLD ANTAGONIST

The hotel Catalina, half-way between Las Palmas harbor and the town, was

not crowded, and a number of the quests had gone to a ball at the

neighboring Metropole. Barbara, going out some time after dinner, found

the veranda unoccupied and sat down. Mrs. Cartwright was getting better

and did not need her, and Barbara was satisfied to be alone. Her

thoughts were disturbing, and trying to banish them for a few minutes,

she looked about.

The veranda was long, and the lights from the hotel threw the shadow of

the wooden pillars across the dusty grass. Barbara's figure was outlined

in a dark silhouette. She did not wear a hat and, since the night was

warm, had put nothing over her thin dinner dress. She looked slender and

very young.

A strip of parched garden, where a few dusty palms grew, ran down to the

road, across which the square block of the Metropole cut the shining

sea. Steamers' lights swung gently against the dark background of the

Isleta hill. Beyond the Metropole a white belt of surf ran back to the

cluster of lights at the foot of the mountain that marked Las Palmas.

One heard the languid rollers break upon the beach and the measured

crash of surges on the reefs across the isthmus. Sometimes, when the

throb of the surf sank, music came from the Metropole. A distant rattle

indicated a steam-tram going to the port.

The long line across the harbor was the mole, and Barbara had thought

the small steamer, lying near its end, like _Terrier_. There was nothing

in the soft blue dark behind the mole until one came to the African

coast. Then Barbara firmly turned her glance. In a sense, she had sent

Lister to Africa, but she was not going to think about him yet. She must

not think about him until she had weighed something else.

A few hours since she had got a jar. Walking in the town she saw a man

whose figure and step she thought she knew. He was some distance off,

and she entered a shop and bought a Spanish fan she did not want.

Perhaps her disturbance was ridiculous, but the man was very like

Shillito, and their meeting at the busy port was not impossible. Las

Palmas was something like an important railway junction. Numerous

steamers called, and passengers from all quarters, particularly South

America and the West Indies, changed boats. Then Barbara understood that

a fugitive from justice was safer in South and Central America than

anywhere else. She wondered with keen anxiety whether the man had seen

her.

She knew now she had not loved Shillito. He had cunningly worked upon

her ignorance, discontent, and longing for romance. Illumination had

come on board the train, but although she had found him out and escaped,

she had afterwards felt herself humiliated and set apart from happy

girls who had nothing to hide. The humiliation was not altogether

earned, and the people who knew about her adventure were not numerous,

but they were all the people for whom she cared. When she thought about

it, she hated Louis Shillito.

The steam-tram stopped at the Metropole and went on to the port,

trailing a cloud of dust. When the rattle it made began to die away,

Barbara roused herself with a start from her moody thoughts. A man was

coming up the path, and when he reached the steps she shrank back

against the wall. The light from the hotel touched his face and she saw

it was Shillito.

Anger conquered her shrinking, for Barbara had pluck and her temper was

hot. When Shillito, lifting his hat, advanced, she got up and stood by a

pillar. Her skin had gone very white, but her eyes sparkled and her

hands were clenched. Shillito bowed and smiled.

"It looks as if I was lucky!" he remarked, and Barbara imagined his not

finding Mrs. Cartwright about accounted for his satisfaction.

"I suppose you saw me in the _calle mayor_?" she said.

He nodded. "You went into a shop. Your object was pretty obvious. I

allow it hurt."

Barbara gave him a scornful glance. "The statement's ridiculous! Do you

imagine you can cheat me now, as you cheated me in Canada?"

"In one way, I did not cheat you. When I said I loved you, I was

honest."

"I doubt it! All was dishonest from the beginning. You taught me deceit

and made me ashamed for my shabbiness. For your sake I tricked people

who loved and trusted me; but to you I was rashly sincere. I trusted you

and was willing to give up much in order to marry you."

"You mean you thought you were willing, until you knew the cost?"

Shillito rejoined. "Then you saw you couldn't make good and resolved to

turn me down."

The blood came to Barbara's skin, but she fronted him steadily.

"I had _found you out_. Had you been something of the man I thought, I

might have gone with you and helped to baffle the police; but you were

not. You were very dull and played a stupid part. When you thought you

had won and I was in your power, I knew you for a brute."

Shillito colored, but forced a smile. "Perhaps I was dull; I was

desperate. You had kept me hanging round the summer camp when I knew the

police were on my track; and I had been put wise they might hold up the

train. A man hitting the trail for liberty doesn't use the manners of a

highbrow carpet-knight. I reckoned you were human and your blood was

red."

"Ah," said Barbara, "I was very human! Although I was afraid, I felt all

the passion hate can rouse. You declared I must stay with you, because I

durst not go back; I had broken rules and my fastidious relations would

have no more to do with me. Something like that! In a sense, it wasn't

true; but you said it with brutal coarseness. When I struck you I meant

to hurt; I looked for something that would hurt--"

She stopped and struggled for calm. To indulge her anger was some

relief, but she felt the man was dangerous and she must be cool. There

was not much use in leaving him and going to her mother, because he

would, no doubt, follow and disturb Mrs. Cartwright. It was unlucky her

step-father had not arrived; he was coming out, but his boat was not

expected for a day or two.

"Oh, well," said Shillito, "let's talk about something else. I didn't

calculate to meet you at Las Palmas, but when I saw you in the _calle_,

I hoped you might, after all, be kind for old times' sake. However, it's

obvious you have no use for me, and if you are willing to make it

easier, I'll pull out and leave you alone."

Barbara gave him a keen glance. She had known he wanted something.

"How can I make it easier for you to go?"

"You don't see? Well, I've had some adventures since you left me on

board the train. I had money, but I'd waited too long to negotiate some

of the bonds and my partner robbed me. I made San Francisco and found

nothing doing there. Went down the coast to Chile and got fixed for a

time at a casino, in which I invested the most part of my wad. One night

a Chileno pulled his knife on another who cleaned him out, and when the

police got busy the casino shut down. I pushed across for Argentina, but

my luck wasn't good, and I made Las Palmas not long since on board an

Italian boat. On the whole, I like the dagos, and reckoned I might try

Cuba, or perhaps the Philippines--"

"A Lopez boat sails for Havana in two or three days," Barbara

interrupted.

"That is so," Shillito agreed, smiling because he noted her relief. "The

trouble is, I haven't much money. Five hundred pounds would help me

along."

"You thought I would give you five hundred pounds?"

"Sure," said Shillito, coolly. "You're rich; anyhow, Mrs. Cartwright is

rich, and I reckoned you would see my staying about the town has

drawbacks. For one thing, the English tourists are a gossiping lot. It

ought to pay you and your mother to help me get off."

Barbara tried to think. The drawbacks Shillito indicated were plain, and

as long as he stayed at Las Palmas she would know no ease of mind, but

she had not five hundred pounds, and Mrs. Cartwright must not be

disturbed. Moreover, one could not trust the fellow. He might take the

money and then use his power again. He had power to humiliate her, but

unless she was willing to meet all his claims, she must resist some

time.

"I imagine you put your importance too high," she said. "You can stay,

if you like. I certainly will not bribe you to go away."

He studied her for a few moments; Barbara looked resolute, but he

thought her resolution forced.

"Very well! Since I can't start for Cuba without money, I must find an

occupation at Las Palmas, and I have a plan. You see, I know some

Spanish and something about running a gambling joint. The people here

are sports, and one or two are willing to put up the money to start a

club that ought to attract the English tourists. If I found the thing

didn't pay before you went back, I could quit and get after you."

"I think not," said Barbara, desperately. "If you came to England, a

cablegram to the Canadian police--"

Shillito laughed. "You wouldn't send a cablegram! If I was caught I

could tell a romantic story about the girl who helped me get off. No;

I'm not going to bother about your putting the police on my trail!"

He turned his head and Barbara clenched her hand, for a rattle of wheels

in the road broke off, as if a _tartana_ had stopped at the gate. If the

passengers from the vehicle were coming to the hotel she must get rid of

Shillito before they arrived.

"You waste your arguments," she declared. "I will not give you money. If

you come back, I will tell the _mayordomo_ you are annoying me and he

must not let you in."

"The plan's not very clever," Shillito rejoined. "If I made trouble for

the hotel porters, the guests would wonder, and when people have nothing

to do but loaf, they like to talk. I expect you'd find their curiosity

awkward--" He paused and laughed when he resumed: "You're embarrassed

now because somebody will see us!"

Barbara was embarrassed. A man was coming up the path, and she knew her

figure and Shillito's cut against the light. When the stranger reached

the veranda he would see she was disturbed; but to move back into the

gloom, where Shillito would follow her, would be significant. She

thought he meant to excite the other's curiosity.

The man stopped for a moment at the bottom of the steps and Barbara

turned her head, since she imagined he would think she was quarreling

with her lover. Then he ran up the steps, and when he stopped in front

of Shillito her heart beat fast. It was Lister, and she knew he had

remarked her strained look, for his face was very stern.

"Hallo!" he said. "Are you bothering Miss Hyslop again?" He glanced at

Barbara. "I expect the fellow is bothering you?"