AT THE MOUTH OF THE PALMONES RIVER
Scott had certainly done exceedingly well in his study of the chart,
which Louis had obtained for him, and he remembered much more than
might have been expected of him; but he had failed to mention several
towers on the shore, which could hardly be seen at night. There was one
of them about a quarter of a mile inshore from the mouth of the river.
At two cables' length from the shore the water was ten fathoms deep;
but at the mouth of the Palmones there is a bar, and the bottom in the
vicinity was mud.
The pilot had obeyed his orders, and he was not to be blamed, though
the steamer was now aground. As soon as the grating of the keel was
heard, and the boat came to a full stop, Scott rang the bell to stop
her, and then to back her. But she had run on the bar when going at
full speed, and she did not come off so easily as desired.
"How does she head now, Musther Shcott?" asked Felix in a rallying tone.
"South south-west by north north-east," replied the pilot, who was
always good-natured except when he got mad.
"Faix, I think she's headed down for the place the volcanos vintilate."
"She isn't making any headway in that direction," added Scott.
"She will come off in a few minutes, for it will not be high tide for
some time yet," said Louis. "You may as well stop the screw and take it
easy, for she seems to be stuck hard. We are in no great hurry."
"What do you call this river, Scott?" asked Felix.
"The Palmones."
"And what might that mean, Dr. Belgrave?"
"If you mean me, I don't know," replied Louis.
"Is there anything you don't know, Professor?"
"There is at least one thing in particular that I don't know, and that
is why you call me doctor and professor, Flix. I am not a pedant, and
if you call me by such names, I shall give you the highest-sounding
title I can find," replied Louis, rather tartly.
"I won't do it then; I didn't mean to vex you."
"You didn't vex me; but you talk to me as though I set myself up for a
very learned or a very pretentious fellow. Barbers and bootblacks call
themselves professors in these days; and there is no honor in the title
unless a man is really a graduate of a college, and is what the name
implies. I don't know what Palmones means, and it may be the proper
name of some Spanish don."
"The boat is close aboard of us," said Scott, coming out of the
pilot-house.
"And we are in for an advinture," chuckled Felix.
"I don't see any adventure yet," added Louis.
"Steamer, ahoy!" shouted a man in the bow of the boat.
"Answer him, Scott," said Louis.
"_En el vapor!_" shouted one in the stern-sheets of the craft, as
though he thought the steamer's people might not understand English.
"In the boat!" replied the pilot.
The strangers did not wait for anything more to be said, but came
alongside the Salihé, the man in the stern grasping the rail to hold
the boat. As well as they could be made out in the dim light of
the moon, they were not English lords nor Spanish grandees. On the
contrary, they were rather a piratical-looking set of men. They were
talking among themselves, but in Spanish; and the man in the bow
appeared to be the only one who spoke English.
Louis was not at all pleased with the situation; and he thought it was
possible, after all, that there might be an adventure to wind up the
moonlight excursion in the bay. He found his knowledge of Spanish was
likely to be serviceable, for he could understand all that he could
hear of what was passing in the after part of the craft. The man in the
stern called to the one in the bow to leap on board of the steamer.
The former looked like a cut-throat villain. He wore a woollen cap in
sugar-loaf form with the point of it turned over on the side of his
head.
It looked as though the party intended to board the Salihé, and Louis
took Felix by the arm, and led him to the rail of the yacht, in order
to prevent anything of this kind if possible. At the same time he told
Scott to make another attempt to back the steamer off the bar. The
pilot returned to the wheel and rang two bells. The screw began to
revolve, and the boat began to shake, for Felipe had a full head of
steam, having just replenished the furnace with coal, in preparation
for the work he was now called upon to perform. For a minute or so the
yacht was shaking under the pressure applied.
Setting the wheel amidships, Scott came out of the pilot-house, and
placed himself at the side of Louis. In the adventure on the island of
Teneriffe, in which his present companions, with the exception of the
engineer, had been captured to obtain a ransom from the millionaires,
Scott had been on the wrong side, and was engaged against his present
friends. On the current occasion he seemed to be desirous of redeeming
his character, so far as it had not already been done, and to prove his
loyalty to the owner of the Guardian-Mother.
"Board her!" called the Spaniard in the stern in his own language,
evidently supposing from the answer in English, and from the appearance
of those on the forecastle of the steamer, that they could not
understand him. "Board her, Gray!"
"No, no," replied the man called Gray, in Spanish. "We don't want any
trouble about this business. This is Giles Chickworth's steamer; but he
is not on board of her, so far as I can see."
"There is not a particle of wind, and we cannot sail the Golondrina
down the bay," continued the Spaniard impatiently. "You waste time, and
we shall all be lost, and all the goods with us."
This remark fully enlightened Louis in regard to the character of the
villanous-looking fellows in the boat. They were _contrabandistas_, as
smugglers are called in Spanish. The town of San Roque on the hill has
the reputation of being largely the abode of this class of people, and
the surrounding country doubtless is inhabited by great numbers of them.
"Gibraltar is a free port, and a resort in consequence of Spanish
smugglers, who drive an amazing trade by introducing contraband goods
into Spain. The British government is not altogether free from a charge
of a breach of faith, in the toleration it has given to these dishonest
men; for it is bound by many engagements to use its best exertions
to prevent any fraud on the Spanish revenues, in consequence of its
possession of this peninsula." This is an extract from an English book,
published in London. The writer has not set up a windmill for the
purpose of giving the knight-errant on board of the Salihé a job to
knock it down.
It was plain enough to Louis, who had read the account of Gibraltar
from which we have quoted, that the occupants of the boat alongside had
a small vessel in the Palmones, loaded for a voyage to some port in
Spain. The wind had been tolerably fresh during the afternoon, but at
sunset it had entirely subsided, and at the present time the surface
of the bay was glassy in the moonlight. The custom-house officials from
Algeciras or elsewhere might pounce upon them before morning, or the
next day if the vessel was compelled to remain in the river for the
want of wind.
"Is Captain Chickworth on board of the steamer?" asked Gray, addressing
those on the forecastle of the steamer.
"He is not on board," replied Louis.
At this moment the engine, which had been doing its most vigorous work,
triumphed over the mud, and began to move, to the great satisfaction
of all the party on board, and perhaps to the discomfiture of those
in the boat. She went astern very slowly, as though she had not yet
fully conquered her enemy at the bottom of the bay. Gray, who was still
holding on at the rail of the steamer, looked about him, as if to
interpret the motion he could not help feeling. Then he said something
to the man nearest to him, who passed up to him the painter, though
those on board could not see what was done.
"All right now!" exclaimed Scott, as he ran into the pilot-house and
grasped the spokes of the wheel.
"Don't crow till you are out of the woods," added Louis.
"She has got started and she will go it now," said Felix, as he went to
the bow to see what progress the steamer was making.
The opportunity for which the boatmen had probably been watching
appeared to have come when Louis turned his attention to the movement
of the Milesian, for at that moment Gray sprang over the rail of the
yacht to the deck, with the painter in his hand. There was a movement
of his companions in the boat to follow him; but the English-speaking
member of the band interposed, and prevented them from doing so.
"We will try gentle measures first," said he, as Louis interpreted his
Spanish; and he spoke it very fluently, if not as correctly as Louis
had been taught by his learned professor.
"If Captain Chickworth is not on board of the steamer, who is in
command of her?" demanded Gray, as he made fast the painter of the boat
at the rail.
"I am in command of her," replied Louis; and the situation seemed
to call upon him to act without any election or appointment to the
leadership of his party.
"Do you happen to have any name?" inquired Gray.
"My name is Belgrave, at your service."
"Then I suppose you hail from Belgravia in London."
"No, sir; I hail from Von Blonk Park."
"Then you speak English very well for a Dutchman. I never heard of the
place you come from; but it is all the same," continued Gray, evidently
proceeding to use the gentle measures of which he had spoken. "The
Dutch are a very thrifty and money-making people."
"They are, like the Scotch, of whom you are one, I should judge,
though you have but little of the dialect in your speech, and you
speak English very well indeed, to return your compliment," replied
Louis, seeing that Felix and Morris were keeping a close watch over the
Spaniards in the boat.
If Gray wished to use gentle measures, the self-appointed commander of
the Salihé was willing to meet him half-way, and was not disposed to
resort to violence as long as it could be avoided, or even to harshness
of speech.
"I am a Scotchman, and I am proud of my country," added Gray. "You
are a Dutchman, though you speak English perfectly. I suppose you are
ready, as Scotchmen and Dutchmen always are, to make a little money."
"I cannot say that I am," replied Louis rather coldly.
"Then you are a very odd Dutchman."
"And you are a very odd Scotchman."
"I dare say I am; but I do not see in what particular I am odd at the
present moment."
"Why, you propose to give me a chance to make some money instead of
making it yourself, which is not at all like a Scotchman."
"_Quiere V. atropellar?_" (Will you hurry up?) shouted the Spaniard in
the stern of the boat angrily.
"My friend is impatient," added Gray.
"I see he is."
"Do you speak Spanish?" demanded the Scotchman, evidently startled at
the suggestion of Louis's reply.
"I do not just now; but if your friend is impatient, I will not detain
him or you a single moment more, and you can return to your boat at
once."
By this time the Salihé was under full headway, and the boat was
dragged at a rather uncomfortable speed for those on board of it. At
this stage of the proceedings the pilot rang one bell to stop the
steamer.