The Buccaneer Farmer - Harold Bindloss
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"He told me he was, senor. Afterwards, when Don Cristoval did not come
back, he said it was not important and he would not wait."
Alvarez dismissed the man and shrugged as he turned to Kit. "The plotters
are clever, but they made a mistake. The fellow was too modest; he ought
to have said he was the _patron_. Well, we must try to find him, although
I expect we are late. Now give me the message for Captain Mayne. It looks
as if our antagonists knew its importance."
Kit gave him the envelope and went back to Adam's room.
CHAPTER VII
ADAM RESUMES CONTROL
Although the shutters on the balcony window were open, no draught entered
the small, bare room and the heat that soaked through the thick walls was
nearly intolerable. There was not a sound in the presidio and a drowsy
quietness brooded over the dazzling town. It was two o'clock in the
afternoon, and the citizens were resting in their darkened houses until
the sun got low and work and intrigue began again. Adam and Kit, however,
had been talking for some time when the former, leaning back in a big
cane chair, frowned at his nephew. His thin face was wet with sweat, but
he shivered and his hands shook.
"You can quit arguing; I've got to go," he said. "I don't get much
better, anyhow, and can't stand for lying off when there's a big job
to be done."
"I believe I could see the job through," Kit answered quietly.
Adam's dull eyes sparkled. "You might; I guess you're anxious to try your
powers, but so long as I can get about I'm in command."
"It's doubtful if you can get about," Kit insisted.
"I'm going to try. You'll have a quiet mule ready when it's getting dark,
and I'll ride out of town; then, if the saddle shakes me, I'll go in a
hammock. You can cut out your objections. The thing's fixed."
"Very well," said Kit. "We had better make for Corrientes, since the
point commands the port and the lagoon. Mayne will stop for an hour or
two, looking for a signal, when he picks up his marks."
"We'll start for the port and take the other track afterwards. There's no
use in telling the opposition where we're going. I imagine they don't
know if the _Rio Negro_ has sailed or not."
"For that matter, we don't know," Kit remarked.
"Oh, shucks!" Adam exclaimed. "Mayne understands what we're up against
and he'd pull out when he got your telegram. If he can't use his damaged
engine, he'll disconnect and bring her along with the other." He stopped
Kit with a frown. "If you're going to tell me the _Rio Negro_ can't steam
across on one cylinder, you can cut it out. I've taught the men I put in
charge that when a job's needful it has got to be done."
He paused and when Kit said nothing, went on quietly: "Well, I reckon
Galdar's crowd will expect the boat to make for the port. It's easier to
land cargo there and there's a better road. With good luck, we'll have
the goods delivered before they know she's gone to the lagoon. Now you
can go along and get busy."
Kit went away in a thoughtful mood. He agreed with Adam that secrecy and
speed were essential, because if the rebels got a hint of their plans
they might strike before Alvarez could ensure the loyalty of his troops
by distributing their back pay. Much depended upon which party got in the
first blow. In fact, if the guns and money reached the town before the
rebels knew they were landed, Kit thought the president's chance of
winning was good. All the same, he imagined that Adam, whom the doctor
had forbidden to get up, would run a dangerous risk.
At dusk a few barefooted soldiers paraded on the terrace, with two mules
and three or four peons. Since it was impossible to evade the
watchfulness of Galdar's spies, Adam had resolved to set off openly and
not to give them a hint that his journey had an important object by
trying to hide it. He mounted awkwardly, with an obvious effort, and when
he was in the saddle set his lips for a moment or two. Then he turned to
Alvarez and smiled.
"I'm not a back-number yet, but it's lucky the opposition don't know how
hard it was for me to get up."
Alvarez made a sign of understanding. "You must dismount as soon as
possible. You are very staunch, my friend."
"I've got to make good. If everything is fixed, we'll pull out."
"_Adios, senores_," said Alvarez, taking off his hat. "Much
depends on you."
Somebody gave an order, there was a rattle of thrown-up rifles, a patter
of naked feet, and the party moved away. Kit, turning after a few
moments, looked back. He saw the long, straight building, pierced here
and there by lights, rise against the orange sky, and the president's
tall figure, conspicuous in white clothes, in front of the arch. His
attendants had vanished, he stood motionless, as if brooding, and Kit
thought he looked pathetic and lonely. He afterwards remembered his
glance at the old presidio.
They rode down a hot street. The moon had not risen and the place was
dark except for the feeble gleam of an oil-lamp at a corner. The clatter
of the mules' feet on the uneven stones echoed along the walls, and here
and there indistinct figures looked out from shadowy doors. For the most
part, the watchers let them pass in silence, and although Kit imagined
news of their departure would travel fast, he was glad they passed none
of the lighted cafes and open squares. It would be hard to see who was
riding the mules, and while Galdar's spies would probably find out this
would need time and time was important.
After leaving the streets, they followed the road to the port for some
distance, and then turned into a track that wound along a dark hillside
among clumps of trees. When they entered it, Adam stopped his mule and
got down awkwardly.
"I've had about as much as I can stand for," he remarked, breathing hard.
"Looks as if we had got a start, but I reckon the other lot will try to
track us to the port when the moon gets up."
Then with a sigh of relief he lay down in a hammock the peons had got
ready, and when two of the latter took up the poles they went on again.
On the second night after leaving the presidio, Kit sat on the coaming of
a small steam launch that lurched across the long undulations rolling in
from the Caribbean. It had been blowing fresh, and although the wind had
dropped the swell ran high. When the launch swung up, a vague, hazy smear
rather suggested than indicated land astern; the sea ahead was dark, but
in one place a faint reflection on the sky told that the moon would soon
rise. Although the beach was some distance off, a dull monotonous rumble,
pierced now and then by the clank of the launch's engines, hinted at
breaking surf. The furnace door was open and the red light touched Adam's
face as he sat, supported by a cushion, in a corner of the cockpit. He
looked very haggard and Kit thought him the worse for his journey.
"The light's in my eyes, but there was nothing on the skyline a minute or
two ago," Kit remarked. "It will be awkward if Mayne doesn't get across.
You seem persuaded he'll come."
"I know he'd start. We can't tell what may have happened afterwards and
there was more wind than I liked. He'll be here on time, if he's been
able to keep the old boat off the ground."
"Time is getting short. I expect the rebels have found out we're not at
the port and Galdar will have the road watched when the news gets to the
town. It might pay him to risk forcing a conflict if he could seize the
convoy, and I'll feel happier when the guns and money are off our hands.
It will be the president's business to look after them then."
"That's so," Adam agreed. "Our part of the job's to land the goods and
it's unlucky the tides are small. There won't be much water on the
shoals and although we'll have an extra few inches tomorrow, I don't
want Mayne to wait."
Kit pondered, for he had taken some soundings when coming out. They
were probably not correct, because the launch had rolled among the
white combers that swept the shoals while he used the lead, but the
average depth was about the steamer's draught in her usual trim. Mayne,
however, ought to know what depth to expect, and Kit hoped he had
loaded the vessel to correspond. By and by the mulatto fireman shut the
furnace door, the puzzling light was cut off, and Kit searched the
horizon. For some minutes, he saw nothing; and then a trail of red fire
soared into the sky.
"He's brought her across," said Adam. "Get our rocket off."
The rocket swept up in a wide curve and burst into crimson lights. After
this there was darkness for a time until an indistinct black object
appeared against the brightening sky. Then the launch sank back into the
trough, where the gloom was only broken by the glimmer of the
phosphorescence that spangled the water. When she swung up on the top of
the next swell the steamer was plainer and Kit blew the whistle as he
changed their course.
When the moon rose slowly out of the sea he stopped the clanking engine
and the launch reeled up and down, some fifty yards off the steamer. The
_Rio Negro _carried no lights, but the phosphorescence shone upon her wet
plates as she rolled them out of the water. Her side rose high and black,
and then sank until her rail was nearly level with the spangled foam.
Indistinct figures scrambled about her deck, and when Kit sheered the
launch in, her ladder went down with a rattle. A half-breed on board the
launch caught it with his boat hook, and Adam stood at the bow, waiting
for a chance to jump upon the narrow platform that lurched up above him
and then plunged into the sea. Kit felt anxious. He did not think Adam
was equal to the effort and dreaded the consequences of the shock if he
missed and fell.
"Stand by!" he shouted to the seaman on the ladder when the _Rio Negro_
steadied after a violent roll; and then touched Adam. "Now; before she
goes back!"
Adam, jumping awkwardly, seized the seaman's hand, and Kit, leaning out,
pushed him on to the platform as it began to sink. Then he jumped and
coming down in a foot or two of water helped Adam to the deck. Mayne met
them at the gangway and took them to his room, where Adam sat down and
gasped. When Mayne poured out some liquor he clutched the glass with a
shaking hand. After he drained it he was silent for a moment or two; and
then asked in a strained voice: "Have you brought the goods?"
"Got them all. We hadn't a nice trip. Don't know how Finlay kept her
going and I thought I'd lost her on Tortillas reef; but we can talk about
that afterwards."
Adam made a sign of satisfaction and leaned back feebly. "It's some
relief to know the goods are here."
"Finlay can drive her seven knots and has plenty steam," Mayne said to
Kit. "I'm bothered about the water; there won't be too much."
Kit asked the vessel's draught and looked thoughtful when he heard
what it was.
"I can't guarantee my soundings, but imagine she won't float across and
an ugly sea is running on the bar."
"She'll certainly hit the bottom and the chances are she hits it hard,"
Mayne remarked when Kit told him the depth he had got. "I expect, too,
the mist will drift off from the mangroves with the land-breeze and hide
our marks." He paused and glanced at Adam, who leaned back in a corner
with his eyes half shut.
"But I reckon we have got to take her in?"
"Yes," said Adam dully. "Leave me alone; you can fix things with Kit."
Mayne beckoned Kit and they went to the bridge. The moon had risen and
threw a belt of silver light across the sea, but it was a half moon and
would not help them much. Ahead, in the distance, gray haze obscured the
water, and the dull roar that came out of the mist had become distinct.
Mayne rang his telegraph to reduce the speed.
"So far as I can reckon, it won't be high-water for most two hours, and
on this coast you can't calculate just how much the tide will rise.
There's going to be trouble if we find it shoaler than we expect and I
had plenty trouble coming along. Finlay could hardly drive her four knots
in last night's breeze and the current put us on Tortillas reef. She
stopped there twenty minutes, jambed down on her bilge while the sea came
on board."
Kit noted two boats that had obviously been damaged while the steamer
hammered on the reef, and the white crust of salt on the funnel; but
Mayne resumed: "Say, the old man looks shaky; never seen him like that.
You want to get him home."
"He won't go. However, he's rather worse tonight. I think he was anxious
about your turning up in time to catch the tide. The journey tried him
and now a reaction has begun."
"Well, I allow there's not much use in arguing if he means to stay; but
he needn't have bothered about my getting across. When the orders came, I
knew I had to bring her or pile her up. What Askew says goes."
They were silent for a time while the _Rio Negro_, with engines throbbing
slowly, crept towards the coast. The land breeze brought off a steamy
heat and a sour smell. The long undulations were wrinkled by small waves,
and a thin low haze that obscured the moon spread across the water. Kit,
looking up now and then, could see the mastheads swing across the sky.
There was, however, nothing to be seen ahead but a gray line that moved
back as the steamer went on.
"It's sure a blamed bad night for our job," Mayne remarked as he gazed
towards the hidden land. "I'm glad I told your dagos to burn a flare when
they hit the channel."
Kit said nothing. The launch had vanished, and there was no guiding light
in the mist. The turmoil of the surf had got louder and rang through the
dark like the roar of a heavy train. Presently Mayne ordered a sounding
to be taken and looked at Kit when the leadsman called the depth.
"A foot less than we reckoned, and there won't be much rise. I don't like
it, Mr. Askew, and if my employer was not your uncle, I'd heave the old
boat round."
Kit nodded sympathetically. He felt he hated the smothering haze that
rolled in front and hid the dangers, but they must go on and trust to
luck. He knew Adam's plans and no arguments would shake his resolve. Half
an hour later a twinkle broke out some distance ahead and Mayne rang his
telegraph.
"I'm thankful for that, anyhow," he remarked. "We'll let her go, but I
have my doubts about what will happen next."
The throb of engines quickened, the gurgle of water got louder at the
bows, and the _Rio Negro_, lurching sharply, went shorewards with tide
and swell. The twinkle vanished and reappeared, to starboard now, and
chains rattled as the quartermaster pulled round the wheel. Then the
light faded and they were left without a guide in the puzzling haze. Ten
minutes afterwards there was a heavy shock, and a rush of foam swept the
rail as the steamer listed down. She lifted and struck again with a jar
that tried Kit's nerve. A hoarse shout came from the forecastle and men
ran about the slanted deck as a frothing sea rolled on board. Mayne,
clutching his telegraph, beckoned Kit.
"Bring Mr. Askew up. He's got to tell me what I am to do."
Kit met Adam clumsily climbing the ladder and when he helped him to
the bridge Mayne remarked: "She's on the tongue shoal. Don't know if I
can back her off and steam out to deep water, but, if you consent, I
want to try."
"I won't consent," said Adam. "We're going in! What's that light to
starboard?"
"The launch; she's in the channel. I doubt if there's water enough for
us, if we can get there."
"Then, shove her across the sand or let her go to bits."
Mayne rang the telegraph and touched his cap. "Very well! She's your
ship, and we have some sound boats left."
For the next ten minutes Kit clung to the bridge. He wanted to help Adam
into the pilot-house, but the old man waved him off. Clouds of spray
swept the vessel and made it hard to see her rail where the white combers
leaped. Now and then one broke on board and poured in a foaming torrent
across the slanted deck; she trembled horribly as she struck the sand. It
looked as if she were driving sideways across the shoal, but the flare on
the launch had gone out and Kit doubted if Mayne knew where he was.
Sometimes the tall, black forecastle swung in a quarter-circle;
sometimes the stern went round. For the most part, however, she lay with
her side to the rollers and it was plain that the struggle could not
last long. If they did not get off in a few minutes, rivets would smash
and butts open, and one must take one's chances in the boats. Two were
damaged, but others might be launched, and Kit was relieved to note that
two or three deck-hands moved about as if engaged in clearing the
davit-tackles. He sympathized with the men, although he did not think
Mayne had given them orders.
In the meantime, Adam clung to the rails, swaying when the bridge
slanted, but looking unmoved, and Kit knew that so long as the _Rio
Negro's_ engines turned he would go on. It was not for nothing men called
him the Buccaneer, and now that he was staking his life and fortune on a
hazardous chance there was something daunting about his grim resolve.
A sea rolled up astern and buried the poop. Kit felt the steamer lift
and turn, as if on a pivot at the middle of her length. The after-deck
was full of water, but the bows were high and going round, and he was
conscious of a curious shiver that ran through the straining hull as she
shook herself free from the sand. She crawled forward, stopped, and
moved again with a staggering lurch. The next sea swept her on, but she
did not strike, and after a few moments Kit knew she had crossed the top
of the shoal.
Her whistle shrieked above the turmoil of the sea, a light blinked in
the spray, and she lurched on before the tumbling combers. By and by the
water got smooth and an indistinct dark mass grew out of the mist.
Mayne, who was pacing up and down his bridge, stopped near Kit with a
reckless laugh.
"This is the kind of navigation they break skippers for! If those are the
mangroves on False Point, I may take her in; if they're not, we'll make a
hole in the forest."
Kit looked about, but could not see the launch. The dark mass was a thick
belt of trees, but he did not know, and did not think Mayne knew, where
they were, and the easy motion indicated that the tide was carrying the
steamer on. Much to his relief, the indistinct wall of forest seemed to
bend back, away from the sea. It looked as if they were entering the
lagoon; and then he heard the telegraph and the rattle of rudder chains.
The screw shook the vessel as it spun hard-astern, and the bows began to
swing. It was, however, too late; the forecastle would not clear the
mangroves, and Kit knew the water was deep among their roots. Shouting to
Adam, he seized the rails and waited for the shock. It came, for there
was a crash, and a noise of branches breaking. The steamer rolled,
recoiled, and forged on into the forest.
Some minutes later, Mayne stopped his engines and there was a curious
quietness as he came up to Adam.
"We are fast in the mud, sir. Although she'll take a list when the tide
falls, we may be able to work cargo. I'll lay out an anchor in the
morning and try to heave her off, but I calculate it will be full moon
before she floats."
CHAPTER VII
THE MANGROVE SWAMP
Early next morning, Kit went on deck. Although it was hot, everything
dripped with damp, and sour-smelling mist drifted past the ship. Her
masts and funnels slanted and Kit could hardly keep his footing on the
inclined deck. When he looked over the rail, the rows of wet plates ran
up like a wall above broken mangrove roots and pools of slime. Smashed
trunks and branches were piled against the bows and dingy foliage
overhung the vessel's lower side.
Kit walked aft. The screw was uncovered, and shallow, muddy water, dotted
by floating scum, surrounded the stern, which projected into the lagoon.
In one place, however, a mud-bank touched the bilge, and three or four
men, standing on planks, cautiously tried its firmness. They were wet and
splashed, and one who ventured a few yards from the plank sank to his
waist. The others pulled him out and then they climbed a rope ladder. Kit
thought the experiment proved that nothing useful could be done until the
tide flowed round the ship.
Another gang was moving a kedge-anchor across the deck, while a few more
coiled heavy ropes beside the winch. Mayne obviously meant to try to
heave the vessel off, but Kit thought he would not succeed until the moon
was full. In the meantime, cargo could only be landed when there was
water enough to float boats up to the ship, and Kit glanced across the
lagoon. There were no mangroves on the other side, although thick timber
grew close down to a belt of sand. Below this was mud, across which he
imagined heavy goods could not be carried. The heat and steamy damp made
him languid, and he went to Adam's room. Adam had got up and sat,
half-dressed, on the lower berth with a glass on the floor close by. His
hands shook and there was no color in his lips.
"It's rather early for a strong cocktail, but I felt I needed bracing,"
he said. "What do you think about our chance of getting her off?"
"I imagine it's impossible for another week and don't see how we'll get
the cargo out."
"Don't you?" said Adam grimly. "It has got to be done. If Mayne finds the
job too big, I'll put it through myself."
"You ought to leave before the malaria knocks you down," Kit rejoined.
"If I had the power, I'd make you go."
Adam smiled. "You mean well, boy, but you don't understand, and if you
plot with Mayne to bluff me, I'll surely break you both. Now go and see
if the president's men have arrived. Then you can tell Mayne to rig his
derricks and take the hatches off."
Kit went out and after a time three or four figures appeared among the
trees across the lagoon. They came down to the mud, but when Kit shouted,
asking if they could launch a canoe, one shrugged and they turned back.
"I reckon the old man means us to get busy with the cargo," Mayne
remarked.
"Yes," said Kit. "I understand he's ready to undertake the job if we find
it too much for us."
"He's a hustler, sure! So far as I can see, the thing can't be done, but
if Askew wants it done, I guess we've got to try. We'll carry out the
kedge and make fast a warp or two when the tide flows. He'll expect it,
though I don't reckon much on our chance of floating her."
By degrees the muddy water crawled up the plates and the _Rio Negro_ rose
upright; the haze melted and it got fiercely hot when the sun shone. A
canoe, manned by half-breed peons, crossed the lagoon, and with heavy
labor the kedge-anchor was hoisted out and hung between two boats.
Half-naked men toiled at the oars until the lashings were cut and the
boats rocked as the anchor sank. Then their crews, dragging large stiff
warps, forced their way among the mangrove roots and made the ropes fast
where they could. They came back exhausted, dripping with water and
daubed by slime, and Mayne went to the bridge.
The sun pierced the narrow awning and there was not a breath of wind. The
lagoon shone with dazzling brightness and the iron deck threw up an
intolerable heat. Kit felt the perspiration soak his thin clothes, and
big drops of moisture trickled down Adam's yellow face as he sat with
half-shut eyes, in a canvas chair. By and by he took out his watch, and
Kit noted that he moved it once or twice before he could see the time.
"Hadn't you better get busy?" he asked Mayne.
The telegraph clanged, the engines panted, and the _Rio Negro_ began to
shake as the screw revolved. There was no movement but the racking throb,
until Mayne raised his hand and winch and windlass rattled. Puffs of
steam blew about, the cable rose from the water with a jar, and the warps
ran slowly across the winch-drums, foul with greasy scum.
"Hold on to it!" Mayne shouted. "Get in the last inch!"
His voice was drowned by the rattle of chain and hiss of steam, but the
uproar began to die away and the sharp clatter of small engines changed
to spasmodic jars. Then somebody shouted, there was a crash, and the end
of a broken warp, flying back, tore up the dazzling water. The windlass
stopped, and a few moments later a clump of mangroves swayed. Kit heard
green wood crack, as a rope that had stretched and strained began to
move. Then Mayne raised his hand.
"Let go; stop her! You're pulling up the trees."
There was a sudden quietness except for the insistent throb of the screw,
and Mayne turned to Adam.
"If the cable holds, I can smash the windlass, but I can't heave her
off."
"Very well. You quit and get the cargo out. Better hustle while
she's upright."
Mayne went down the ladder and when he unlocked the iron door of the
after wheel-house a gang of men brought out a row of small-boxes. A
mulatto from the beach, who wore neat white clothes and an expensive hat,
counted the boxes and then gave Adam a receipt.
"Don Hernando will be glad to get these goods and we will start at once,"
he said. "Although I have a guard, it will be safe to reach the town
before the president's enemies know."
"That would be prudent, senor," Adam agreed, and turned to Kit when the
mulatto went away.