CHAPTER VIII
UP HILL
The smoking-room of the Marine Hotel at Carmeltown was crowded with yachtsmen on the evening after the channel regatta. Marston and Wyndham occupied a small table, the former trying to read a newspaper while the latter looked about. The big room echoed with voices, a haze of tobacco smoke drifted round the pillars, and now and then a peal of laughter marked the end of an Irish yachtsman's tale. For all that, Wyndham's face was rather grim, and Marston, looking up by-and-by, thought he was brooding.
"Hallo! Here's Elliot," he exclaimed. "S'pose he came across on the mailboat. I heard her whistle not long since. Thought he was going to stop and see if they could salve Deva. Anyhow, I'd like to hear about the collision and it looks as if he was making for us."
"Yes," said Wyndham. "I imagine he wants to see me."
Elliot crossed the floor, stopping now and then when somebody spoke to him, and after a time reached Marston's table, where he sat down.
"I've been trying to get to you for some minutes, but the Irishmen wouldn't let me pass. The news of my bad luck soon got across," he remarked.
"We didn't get much news," said Marston. "What about the boat?"
"She's gone; cut down to the bilge and sunk in six fathoms. No chance of salvage and the navigation board is going to blow her up."
Marston said he was sorry and asked about the collision.
"To begin with, I want a drink," said Elliot, who called a waiter and then resumed: "It was dark and hazy, and we were creeping up to the anchorage at Kingstown with all sail set. I was at the tiller, but the wind was very light and she would hardly steer; the tide was carrying her along. Jevons, looking out under the boom, said he saw a steamer's lights, but just then I heard a North-Wall boat in the fog. You know the noise they make when they're steaming fast, and the fog's pretty bad when those boats slow up. I knew she wasn't far off when I saw her lights; red, white, and green all together. That meant we had to do something quick."
Marston nodded. When a steamer's three lights are seen she is heading direct for the observer.
"Our flare wasn't handy, and the first match broke," Elliot resumed. "Reckon I was awkward and not very cool. However, I got a light and it was a relief when her whistle indicated that she was changing her course; but while I was fumbling with the matches I forgot the other boat. So did Jevons; he owned it afterwards. The North-Wall man went past us, like a train, lights all over the passenger decks and a four-foot wave rolling off the bows. She left us dazzled and rather shaken, and then Jevons shouted that the other fellow was close ahead."
Elliot stopped and drained his glass, and when he went on his voice was hoarse. "We were crossing her bows, close-hauled on the starboard tack. Our business, of course, was to carry on, but our lights were low and not very bright, and as a rule, it's prudent to give a steamer room. Anyhow, I shoved down the helm to bring her round, and told Jevons to get out the big oar when I found her slow. The wind was light and she was plunging on the North-Wall boat's wake. She came headto, and then a roller hit her bows and she fell off. Jevons was trying to pull her round, and for two or three moments I saw the steamer's forecastle. She was a big, clumsy craft, going light, and looked as high as a house.
"Then there was a crash and the mast went. I saw our side deck crumble and the other's stem cut through to the cabin top. Mast and boom were over the side, and when the round of her bow filled our cockpit I knew it was time to go. By good luck, we had towed the dinghy and the steamer held up Deva until we got on board. Then as we cut the painter the old boat broke away, and the steamer went on, over the top of her. I imagine she stopped, because we heard her whistle in the fog, but we'd had enough of her and pulled for the beach. We landed at Kingstown, and I think that's all."
Marston sympathized and ordered drinks. Elliot drained his glass and turned to Wyndham.
"Well," he said, "she was insured and I want another boat. What's your price for Red Rose?"
"Red Rose is not for sale," Marston interposed.
"Then why did Forwood tell me you wanted an offer?"
Marston looked at Wyndham, who nodded. "It's all right, Bob; I'm going to sell." Then he turned to Elliot and stated a sum.
"A moderate price!" the other remarked. "I'll admit it's less than I thought. Is she sound?"
"She is not," Wyndham replied. "Port side's weak where the strain of the rigging comes; she needs some new timbers. The covering board ought to be relaid all round. Keel's shaky aft; the deadwood ought to be lifted – "
He indicated the repairs he thought necessary and Elliot looked at him with surprise.
"Since you want to sell, aren't you taking a rather unusual line?"
Wyndham smiled. "I allowed for defects when I fixed the price. The carpenter's job will be expensive, but if it's properly done, the boat will afterwards be nearly as good as new. I think you can rely on this."
Marston gave his partner a puzzled glance and Elliot said, "After your frankness, I'll buy her and take my chance."
"I imagine it's a safe investment," Wyndham rejoined.
For a few moments Elliot was quiet and then he fixed his eyes on Wyndham and said in a thoughtful voice, "Red Rose is fast and you sailed her cleverly. All the same, I never understood how you beat us when you won the Commodore's cup."
"I imagine I went the wrong side of the Knoll buoy," Wyndham answered coolly. "Perhaps this gave us some advantage, because the tide runs longer near the coast."
Marston moved abruptly, but Wyndham went on: "I'm not certain; but if you had filed a protest, I wouldn't have claimed the prize. Bob thought he saw something in the haze. It might have been a gull, but it might have been the buoy. Anyhow, we went on and the tide carried us along the shore."
The short silence that followed had a hint of strain. Wyndham knew Elliot knew his winning the race had appealed to Flora's imagination. Moreover, he thought Elliot had wanted to marry Flora and would have had Chisholm's support. Marston saw they had got on awkward ground, and felt embarrassed.
"After all you did beat us and you were not sure it was the buoy," Elliot said, in a quiet, meaning voice. "It's too late to file a protest now. Besides, we were talking about the boat – "
"I'll put her on the hard, if you'd like a proper survey before you decide."
"No," said Elliot. "I don't think it's needful. Your statement satisfied me. I'll buy her."
He went off and Wyndham gave Marston a smile. "You look surprised, Bob."
"Let's have another drink," said Marston, who called a waiter and then resumed awkwardly: "Elliot played up pretty well. I like the fellow; he's a sportsman, but after all I think it was a gull we saw. Anyhow, we won't bother about it again. Why have you sold Red Rose?"
"It ought to be obvious. A yacht costs something and my keeping an expensive toy wouldn't be justified just now."
"Romantic exaggeration! You're frankly ridiculous," said Marston with some warmth. "Wyndhams' isn't going broke."
Wyndham picked up the newspaper and indicated an advertisement. "I really think I'm logical. Perhaps, this ought to persuade you I've made up my mind."
"Preposterous!" Marston exclaimed, throwing down the paper. "Your pretty new house? Besides, it's Flora's house as well as yours!"
"Flora agrees," said Wyndham quietly.
Marston got up and his face was red. "Looks as if you don't mean to let me help much. It's senseless exaggeration; things aren't as bad as you make out. However, I've had enough. I'll get angry if I stay."
"You ought to approve; I imagined you liked a thorough job," Wyndham rejoined, and Marston frowned as he crossed the floor.
Men spoke to him as he passed their tables, but he did not stop and going to the drawing-room found Flora alone. When he came in she put down her book and indicated an easy chair.
"Stop and talk to me, Bob. I was beginning to feel neglected," she said. "But what has happened? You look annoyed."
"I am rather savage," Marston admitted. "Think I'll stand until I get cool. Do you know Harry has sold Red Rose?"
"I knew he wanted to sell her," Flora said quietly.
"This is not all. D'you know about the ridiculous advertisement he's put in the newspaper?"
"Of course! I don't altogether see why you are surprised."
Marston hesitated. He did not want to admit he had been surprised, and, after studying Flora thought he could not urge that Wyndham's reformation might be overdone.
"Anyhow, you can see why I'm annoyed," he said. "I'm Harry's partner and am going to marry your oldest friend."
"I have not forgotten this and it helps me to be frank. You're generous, Bob, but Harry has done wrong and must pay. He cannot make good at another's cost."
"The trouble is, you must pay. Your house, for example! You planned it, you worked out all the colors, and thought where everything ought to go. The house is beautiful, you're proud of it, and a woman's home means much to her."
Flora turned her head for a moment, but when she looked up again her eyes shone.
"I would sooner be proud of my husband. I am proud now and am going to be prouder. Harry has pluck and meeting obstacles spurs him on. Our part is to encourage him, while he struggles up hill. I know he'll reach the top."
"With a wife like you, he ought to go far," said Marston quietly. "I'm sorry you won't let me help in the way I want, but s'pose I must agree. Don't know if I'm romantic, but I've felt the world's a better place since I knew you and Mabel."
He went off and soon afterwards Chisholm came in, carrying a newspaper.
"What does this mean?" he asked, indicating an advertisement. "Telford showed me the paper. Wanted to know why you were selling the house. I couldn't tell him. Is Harry getting rich so fast that it isn't big enough?"
Flora smiled. "The story's rather long, but I think you must be told. If we stay here, somebody may come in. Let's go to the breakwater."
She got her hat and crossing a street they reached a long granite wall that ran out to sea. The languid swell beat against the massive, dovetailed blocks, the moon was rising above the gray hills, and when they had passed the landing place there was nobody about. By-and-by Chisholm indicated a mooring post and, when Flora sat down, leaned against the granite parapet.
"My dear," he said, "I've been puzzled recently; had a notion something was wrong. For all that, Wyndhams' was obviously prosperous, Harry's an indulgent husband, and I wouldn't own I'd grounds for bothering, until I saw this advertisement. Well, sometimes it's rash to meddle, but I'm anxious. Tell me all you can."
Flora told him and after she stopped he was quiet for a time. The moonlight touched his face and she saw the lines get deeper. The old Commodore was deeply moved, but she was glad he did not look stern.
"I've got a knock and know how you were hurt. You bear it well," he said. "To some extent, the fault is mine. When Harry wanted to marry you I doubted but gave way. I ought to have been firm."
"You are not accountable," Flora replied. "I wanted you to approve, but I meant to marry Harry. I loved him, though I knew his drawbacks. But this doesn't matter; I love him now."
Chisholm looked at her with knitted brows and she saw he was suffering for her sake.
"You are very staunch, but I knew this. You say Harry means to make reparation. Now he's found out, his repentance is strangely thorough."
"You must not be bitter," said Flora quietly.
"Very well. Let's be practical. Your husband's job will be hard and long. He must carry his load, but part will fall on you. It's already doing so."
"That is just. Much of the fault was mine. I trusted Harry, and after all I trust him better; but at the beginning this was not enough. I wanted you and our friends to know him; to own he had talent and see my pride in him was founded well. In a way, it was a mean ambition. I wanted him to get rich. Not because I'm greedy – "
"I think I understand," Chisholm remarked. "Perhaps we use the money standard oftener than we ought. It's not high, but all the same, to earn money demands some useful qualities." He paused and added with a sigh: "I am poor and know."
"You are a dear! Your honesty is worth much more money than you could have earned. Then you're not hard, as some honest people are. You will not be hard to Harry now he is trying to make amends?"
"Far from it! What right have I to hurt a broken man?"
Flora smiled. "Harry is bruised, but not broken. Then, you see, I made his temptation stronger. When I ought to have held him back I half-consciously urged him on. It was for my sake he broke rules we try to keep, and I mustn't grumble if some of his punishment falls on me."
"After all, you did not know what you did."
"I ought to have known; I am his wife. But I think you understand, and there's no more to be said."
Chisholm got up. "A nasty knock, but we can bear it. You have pluck and one can't be beaten when one is not afraid."
They went back silently and near the end of the wall met Wyndham going to the landing steps. Chisholm stopped and gave him his hand.
"Flora has told me all," he said. "Your friends will stand by you."
PART III
REPARATION
CHAPTER I
WYNDHAM PAYS DUTY
Red reflections trembled on the sea, a fringe of languid surf broke along the beach, and as the liner turned a point, a white town that rose in terraces, glimmered like a pearl. A yellow flag ran up to the masthead, the throb of engines slowed, and a noisy launch steamed out from behind the mole. Marston, leaning on the rail, watched her approach, and his look was thoughtful when he turned to Wyndham.
"If Don Ramon got our telegram, he's probably on board," he said. "I hope he is, because if he doesn't come it might imply he means to make things difficult for us. He could if he liked."
"Larrinaga will come," Wyndham replied. "From all accounts, he's a pretty good officer, but I don't expect he neglects his interests while he looks after the State's. I'm counting on this."
"I s'pose one mustn't be fastidious, but I don't want to get involved in fresh intrigue. The job we've undertaken is awkward enough."
"Very awkward," Wyndham agreed, with some dryness. "In a way, it looks too big for us. To begin with, we have got to pay duties we dodged, and satisfy the Government we cheated. Then, without exciting the latter's curiosity, we're going to stop a rebellion and carry off its leader. There's the worst puzzle. The fellow's cunning and powerful. Moreover, he's my uncle."
He stopped, for the engines clanked noisily as the screw turned astern; then the anchor splashed and the launch swung in to the gangway. The port doctor came on board and after him a man in tight-fitting American clothes. His wide black belt was spun from the finest silk and Marston noted his hat. Indians had woven the delicate material under running water; presidents and dictators wore hats like that, and none of the few produced were sent to Europe. It was obvious that Señor Larrinaga was now a man of importance.
"You sent for me," he said, with a bow.
"The steamer goes on in the morning," Wyndham replied. "We hesitated about landing and calling, for fear we might trespass on your time. By sending a telegram we left you free to refuse. If you are not much occupied, I hope you'll dine on board."
Larrinaga said he was willing and after a time they went to the saloon. For the most part, the passengers had landed and only three or four occupied the tables. By-and-by the others went out and Wyndham opened a fresh bottle of Italian wine. A steward turned on the electric light and soft reflections fell on colored glass and polished wood. Beads of damp sparkled on the white-and-gold ceiling, although the skylights were open and a throbbing fan made a cool draught about the table. Footsteps echoed along the deck and when the steamer rolled the water gurgled about her side, but it was quiet in the saloon. By-and-by Larrinaga put down his glass.
"One likes to meet one's friends, but I do not know if this alone is why you sent for me," he said. "If it is not, you see your servant!"
Wyndham bowed. "We value your friendship and particularly your honesty and tact. There is a matter we thought you might arrange for us."
"If it is possible; but you must be moderate. One is watched and criticized as one rises in rank, and it is difficult to allow one's friends exclusive privileges. To grant too many robs the Government."
"We want to make the Government richer," Wyndham replied. "In fact, we propose to give you a sum that ought to have been paid, in smaller amounts, before. You will, no doubt, be able to hand it to the proper officer, without our being bothered by awkward formalities."
Larrinaga looked at him with puzzled surprise. "In this country one pays when one is forced, and the Government is generally paid last of all. One seldom gives money for which one is not asked."
"We do not mean to rob your Government and my partner is rich enough to be honest," said Wyndham, smiling. "You have no customs officer at the lagoon, and we found on studying our accounts that some duties had not been paid."
"Proper copies of your cargo manifests ought to have been sent the officer at the port where your vessel's clearance papers were stamped."
"I think the manifests were sent, but now and then we got cargo at the last moment as we were going to sea. Besides, the officer was a friend of ours – "
Larrinaga filled his glass, and while he pondered Wyndham lighted a cigarette. The matter needed careful handling. It was plain that Larrinaga's surprise had gone and he was cautious.
"Then you propose to give me the money you ought to have paid?" the latter presently remarked.
"Yes," said Wyndham. "We are traders and must get on with our business, while the officer we knew has given up his post. If we write to his successor, we must comply with numerous formalities, and a stranger would insist on knowing why we did not pay at the proper time. Well, if you take the money, I expect you can straighten things out."
Larrinaga looked hard at him, and Wyndham smiled. He imagined the fellow was not honester than other government officials he had met on the Caribbean. Larrinaga knew it was in his power to keep back as much of the sum as he liked for his private use and would, no doubt, do so. In fact, the fellow would imagine he was offered a bribe. Since one does not give bribes for nothing, Wyndham must hint that he had an object, and the hint must be plausible.
"Then you expect no particular privileges?" Larrinaga remarked.
"Oh, no," said Wyndham. "All we want is to carry on our business without the small officials bothering us. We are not smugglers, but we would not like the vessel stopped if a manifest now and then is not properly made up. One must go in and out when the tide serves, and sometimes we do not know what goods we have on board until we check the tallies when we get to sea. If we find we have cheated the customs, you can trust us to put things straight. Only, we would sooner deal with somebody important; yourself, for example."
Larrinaga's eyes twinkled. "Very well. I think I can promise you will not be bothered much." He paused, and resumed in a thoughtful voice: "I expect you know your trading at the lagoon just now may lead to trouble?"
"All trade is troublesome, particularly when it is carried on in the mangrove swamps," Marston interposed. "The lagoon is not much worse than other spots. Anyhow, the profits are large and we must earn some money."
"But Señor Wyndham stated that you are rich."
"Rich people are sometimes greedy," Marston rejoined with a touch of awkwardness. "I did not begin business with the object of losing my capital."
Wyndham thought he would leave Bob alone. Larrinaga would not suspect him of plotting and his rather obvious embarrassment was an advantage. Bob was the man one would expect to be embarrassed when engaged in trying to bribe a government officer to sanction his smuggling. For all that, Wyndham gave Larrinaga a keen glance. The latter leaned back carelessly and rolled a cigarette. His movements were firm and quick.
Don Ramon was clever and knew much about the bush. It was possible he knew Wyndham had supplied the Bat with goods and he might mean to let him do so for a time while he took his bribes, hoping to cheat both by giving them a feeling of false security. Wyndham, however, did not think Don Ramon knew the Bat was his relation; Peters knew, but he was not the man to share a secret he had thought worth much. Although one must not altogether take this for granted, Wyndham could not see another plan.
"Very well," said Larrinaga when he had made his cigarette. "I will take your money and see you are not bothered." Then he looked hard at Wyndham. "I will give you a hint: wait until your cargo comes down and do not go far from the beach. The bush is dangerous for strangers just now."
"We heard something about this," Marston replied. "I don't like the Mestizos, and if they're plotting trouble, hope you'll put them down."
"My partner has a horror of the swamps," Marston remarked with a smile. "If he was not keen to earn some money, he would not enter the lagoon. He has not joined me long and wants his friends to think he has a talent for business."
Larrinaga shrugged and got up. "The English and Americans are hard to understand. If I were rich, I would be satisfied to lounge about the plaza and now and then gamble at the casino with my friends. I would not gamble with the Mestizos in the swamps. The chances are too much on the side of the banker there. Well, I wish you good luck until we meet again."
The others went with him to the gangway and when the launch steamed off Marston sat down and looked about. It had got dark but a half moon drew a sparkling track across the calm sea. Anchor lights swung languidly by the shore, and in the background the white town shone with a pale reflection against the dusky hills. Music came off across the water with the rumble of the surf, and the smooth swell splashed softly against the vessel's side. Presently Marston turned and looked to the east.
"One feels an English steamer's a bit of England. She takes civilization and decency where she goes; but it will be different to-morrow when we board Columbine. I wish our job was finished and we were going the other way. Anyhow, it must be finished, and I don't know if I liked the line you took. Don Ramon won't hand over all the money."
"It's possible," Wyndham agreed. "Still I think you urged that we must begin by paying the duties we had dodged."
"I wanted them paid to the Government, not to a corrupt official who thinks he's got another bribe. The duties belong to the country."
"Oh, well. I don't know a channel by which the country would get its dues. All are leaky; in fact, they are meant to leak. It's significant that official salaries are small. However, I don't expect Don Ramon is dishonester than the rest. Some of the money will go where it ought."
"Perhaps it's not important," Marston said thoughtfully. "All the same, you rather let the fellow think we wanted to smuggle."
"Smuggling's profitable. It was prudent to hint we had an object for haunting the lagoon. On the whole, I imagine a frank statement that we were trying to be honest would not have satisfied Don Ramon; one must make allowances for the other fellow's point of view. I hope he is satisfied, but I doubt."
"He is not a fool," Marston remarked. "I expect he reckons we mean to supply the Bat with things he needs to fight the Government. If he's not altogether corrupt, why does he let us go on?"
"It's not very plain. Anyhow, I imagine he won't let us go on very long. In fact, speed's important. We must finish the job before we are stopped."
"The rebellion must be stopped," Marston agreed. "In a way, I don't care who rules the country; I expect nobody would rule it well. All the same, I'm not going to see white traders murdered and the swamp-belt given up to a cruel brute who would rule it on the African plan."
"The Bat can't start his rebellion without supplies, which we don't mean to give him," Wyndham said dryly. "Things would be easier if he were not my uncle."
Marston hesitated. "This bothers me most. D'you think Larrinaga knows?"
"I think not. Peters knows, however, and when he finds out where we've gone I expect we'll soon have him on our track. This means we must reckon on three antagonists."
"Three?" said Marston with a puzzled look.
Wyndham nodded. "I expect we'll find Rupert Wyndham the worst. However, I see one advantage; none of the three knows our plans and all theirs clash. We are not up against a combine."
"We haven't a plan," Marston objected.
"Oh, well," said Wyndham. "Since that is so we must trust our luck."
He went off and Marston smoked a cigarette and mused. He had wanted to be open and honest, but since they could not use force, he admitted reluctantly that they must intrigue. The job did not look as simple as he had thought in England; it was getting obvious that Rupert Wyndham would be their worst antagonist. The fellow was, so to speak, no longer a white man; he was a savage with a lust for cruelty and power, but he had a white man's intelligence. To imagine he could be persuaded to give up his ambitious plans was ridiculous; he had no moral sense to which one could appeal. All the same, it was unthinkable that they should let him be captured by Larrinaga and shot.
Marston could see no light and presently threw away his cigarette and got up. The job was awkward, but he must not own he was beaten before he had begun. He would go on and trust his luck. In the meantime, he had promised to play cards with some passengers and he went to the smoking-room. They played until the electric light went out, when Marston found he had lost five pounds. It did not look as if his luck was very good.
In the morning, the steamer sailed and when she stopped again as dark fell a boat was hoisted out. High land loomed, vague and blue, against the sunset, drifting mist hid the beach, and not far off two masts and a dark hull cut against the hazy background. As he went to the gangway Marston looked back with a curious feeling of regret. The steamer stood for much that he liked and knew, and he had enjoyed the society of her officers. Their temperament was sane and practical. They did not seek strange adventures; theirs was a healthful struggle against the obvious dangers of the sea.
In front, all was different, and Marston could not see where his path led. Mystery, and perhaps horror, deepened the gloom through which he must grope his way, and his face was grim as he went down the ladder. He did not talk while the sailors rowed him to Columbine, and leaving Wyndham to give the crew some orders he sat down on the gratings by the wheel.
The dew was falling and the deck was damp. Moisture dripped from the masts and ropes, and it was very hot. The anchor light tossed against the portentous gloom of the land. The yacht looked old and dirty, though Marston knew her strength and speed; the half-naked crew made no noise as they stole about. Their dark skin was scarcely distinguishable and Marston thought they rather looked like ghosts than men.
In the meantime, the steamer's boat was pulling back. Marston saw her move across the dim reflections on the water, but the splash of oars got faint and by and by she vanished in the dark. Then a whistle shrieked and lights that twinkled in the distance began to move. The throb of engines traveled far, but it presently died away and all was quiet. Marston was launched on his adventure, and since he was practical, he went below and studied the chart.