CHAPTER VIII
"CAYMAN'S" RETURN
Don Arturo and his party occupied a corner of the glass-roofed patio at the Metropole. For the most part, the tourists had gone when Las Palmas got hot, and the big hotel was nearly empty, but the cook and manager had given the party's ten o'clock breakfast careful thought. The company's cold stores were searched and the finest fruit in the island was ordered. Don Arturo's hospitality was famous at Las Palmas, London and Liverpool, and people talk about the feasts he gave. Pioneers of colonial industry, imperialist politicians, and leaders of commerce met at the table.
His guests at the Metropole were a high civil officer, Don Ramon, Austin and the Commandante de Marina. The coffee, and cigars carefully sealed in glass, were brought from the Caribbean coast in the company's steamers, and grown for the presidents of South American republics; the wine was made for the rulers of central Europe. As a rule Don Arturo's hospitality was extravagant. Perhaps he found it paid, for he himself was a plain business man and had known poverty. Yet, although a merchant, he was something of a prince; when famous shipbuilders and financiers crowded his waiting-room, he would stop to weigh a ship's cook's complaint. His humblest servant might appeal direct to him. He gave all audience, and his knowledge and justice were rather like Haroun a Raschid's.
Now he looked thoughtful and gave Austin a quiet glance. "To some extent, Wolf was your antagonist, but I don't see why you took a part in my purser's African adventure."
"At the beginning I don't know that I did take a part," Austin said with a smile. "Mr. Musgrave demanded my boat, and since I was not at home, my wife indulged him. When I sent off the other vessel, my object was mainly to get my money back."
"You imagine Musgrave's resolve to go was, so to speak, spontaneous?"
"I don't think he was prompted. Losing his men – in a sense, they were your men – weighed on him. All the same, if he brings them back, I imagine his going was lucky."
"It is lucky," the civil officer agreed. "The men are Spaniards and we cannot leave them in the hands of the Moors, but to rescue them might be difficult. Expeditions to Africa are not popular just now, and to send a gunboat would embarrass the government."
The Commandante nodded. "One must reckon on the opposition newspapers, and the Catalan radicals are very keen. Fresh trouble about Morocco would start an outcry. If one could send a small party to negotiate, it would be easier, but this might be dangerous; the Moors are disturbed and threatening. To land an armed force would mean fighting and the force must be strong. Besides, the Moors are cunning. It is possible they have retired across our border."
"I understand the French captain has not lodged a formal complaint," Don Arturo remarked.
"Captain Revillon is discreet," said the civil officer. "Had he seized your ship with the guns on board, it would have been another thing."
"Well, I suppose you are satisfied that I was cheated? You take it for granted that when my ship was chartered I did not know she would be used for smuggling?"
"We know you and we know your manager," the officer replied with a polite bow. "We doubted the man who chartered the ship, but until she came back and he vanished we did not see his plan."
"On the surface, his plan was obvious," Don Arturo remarked rather dryly. "For a time he carried on a risky business and then, when he saw the risks were greater than he thought, resolved to get a quantity of goods without proper payment. When he had got the goods and knew he must soon be found out, he intrigued with the French and tried to get some money from them. The ship was not his, and I imagine the last lot of guns were worthless. It looks plausible."
"Yet you think this was not all?" the Commandante suggested.
"I am a merchant, not a politician," Don Arturo rejoined. "I have got back my ship and am satisfied."
"You have some grounds for satisfaction. The ship carried guns for rebels and Señor Musgrave was your servant as well as Wolf's. I think this was a mistake, but Don Ramon has used much discretion, and we do not doubt your honesty."
"In the meantime, my purser and the Spanish sailors have not returned. What are you going to do about it?"
The Commandante lighted a cigar. "You must use patience. I think you see the situation is awkward, and Wolf is not a common cheat. Your manager knows much about our politics."
"I imagine Wolf's object was not altogether to earn money by smuggling and robbing the Moors," Don Ramon agreed meaningly.
The officer shrugged. "It is possible. One cannot be altogether frank, but there is some jealousy about the African coast, and a country we know feels she is shut out. Well, we will imagine a ship flying the Spanish flag is seized by a foreign gunboat, and French subjects are killed by the guns she landed. Perhaps Spanish subjects are killed; it is not important which. Then the ship is really British. Picture for yourself the complications! When a dispute begins, who knows where it will end?"
"In Spain, we are old-fashioned, and our justice is not British justice," said the Commandante, whose face got very stern. "One is given some discretion. If I could find Señor Wolf – "
"For a few days we must wait," the civil officer resumed. "Perhaps the English sobrecargo and our sailors will return. If they do not, we must think – But we will talk about something else."
They talked for some time and then a messenger arrived and gave Don Ramon a note.
"It is from the office," he remarked. "The signals on the Isleta are going. A schooner and a ketch come from the East."
"Ah," said Austin with a smile, "I reckoned on something like this. I think the situation has arranged itself."
"You mean, the ketch is yours?" said Don Arturo.
"I expect she is the Cayman and the other is the Lucia. It looks as if Musgrave had got the men. Shall we cross the harbour and see the boats arrive?"
The others agreed, for all were keen to get the news, and soon afterwards they landed on the long mole, which, built of ponderous concrete blocks, runs for some distance out to sea. The morning was bright, the Trade-breeze fresh, and outside the shelter of the Isleta head big foam-tipped combers rolled south. Shining spray blew about the mole, and one felt the surges beat the massive blocks. The echoes of the measured shocks rolled among the coal wharfs across the harbour.
Some distance off two sails broke the dazzling sweep of blue. They slanted, plunged and almost vanished, but they got larger, and at times when they crossed a comber's top Austin saw a dark line of hull. He knew Cayman; no other boat about the islands carried a mizzen like hers. Moreover, he thought he knew Kit Musgrave, and since Kit was coming back, was persuaded he had brought the men. He admitted that Jacinta had used Kit rather shabbily, and he meant, if possible, to make some amends.
"What are you going to do about Musgrave?" he asked Don Arturo.
"If he is willing, he can stop with us. Are you interested in the young fellow?"
"Musgrave is rather a friend of ours and has some useful qualities," Austin replied. "For example, he undertook a very awkward job because he felt he ought. Then it's important that he has carried out the job. One trusts a man like that and my business is growing – "
Austin knew when to stop. Since he had indicated that he knew Kit's value and was willing to engage him, he had perhaps gone far enough. Don Arturo smiled.
"If Musgrave has straightened out the tangle that bothers our Spanish friends, he deserves a reward. However, I must think about it and study the fellow. Sometimes to push on a young man fast is not an advantage."
Austin agreed, and when they reached the end of the mole noted that Betty occupied the last large block. The spray tossed about her, and her dress streamed in the wind. She did not see Austin; her eyes were fixed upon the boats. Austin was not surprised that she was there. When vessels approached the port, the look-out on the Isleta signalled to the town, and clerks at the shipping office knew the flags. Advancing carefully, he touched Betty's arm.
"The smaller boat is Cayman. I expect Kit's on board."
She turned and Austin saw her look was strained. "You don't know yet! Unless the men are with him, Kit is not on board."
"I know Jefferson," said Austin, smiling. "He went to look for Kit, and the larger boat's the Lucia. You see what this implies? I'm using your argument."
In the meantime, a crowd had begun to gather. Men from the fishing vessels and women with black clothes and black shawls pushed towards the end of the mole. Some talked and gesticulated; some were quiet, and their dark faces were inscrutable like the Moors. All kept back a little from Don Arturo's party, and the Commandante studied them with languid interest.
"If their friends do not arrive, I think we shall have a demonstration," he remarked to the civil officer. "We know Don Ramon is discreet, and I gave the Diario a useful hint, but it looks as if the people knew the story we meant to keep dark."
"At Las Palmas nothing is long kept dark," Don Ramon replied. "I have used some caution, but one cannot stop Don Erminio talking. It is frankly impossible!"
The officer shrugged. He was a Peninsular from Madrid. "In a few minutes, perhaps, your islanders will curse the government and throw stones at us. But a demonstration is not important, and at Barcelona they use bombs and knives – "
He stopped, for the vessels were not far from the mole. Lucia led. Her high white canvas was sharply inclined and her hull listed until the foam leaped about her rail. One saw her keen bows swing and cleave the frothy seas. She was beautiful and strangely swift, for there are no finer schooners than the Canary coasting fleet. Three or four small figures began to run about her deck, the big gaff-topsail tilted, fluttered and came down; a jib was lowered and the ketch behind her forged ahead. Austin smiled and left the others, for he was now altogether satisfied Jefferson was on board. Jake was a chivalrous fellow.
"All has gone well," he said to Betty.
"But you cannot see the people yet. It's too far."
"We saw Lucia's topsail hauled down," Austin rejoined.
Betty's eyes sparkled. "You mean, they want to let Kit make the harbour first? Well, that's like Mr. Jefferson!"
"Jefferson's a good sort," Austin agreed. "Anyhow, I rather think Kit deserves his triumph."
Cayman did not shorten sail. Her topmast bent to leeward, her outer jib was wet, and when she plunged, her straining bowsprit sank into the sea ahead. Her deck was sharply slanted; one saw her copper glimmer green, and now and then a fathom of the metal swung out of the foam. A tattered red and yellow flag, hard like a board, blew from her mizzen gaff; she leaped across the white seas as if her patron felt he carried important news.
The news was important. On the mole, people who did not know Kit and Jefferson waited with keen suspense. They could not yet see the faces of the crew and tried to count the figures, but the men moved about. Some got the anchor ready and some threw down coils of rope. Then, listing to a gust that buried her lee rail, Cayman drove past the end of the mole and the crowd began to shout.
"Ambos! Los veo! They have brought them both!"
Betty thrilled. Her heart beat and her eyes were wet. She was moved by keen emotion, and for a moment she had seen Kit. Then Cayman went about and he was hidden by the swinging canvas. She came up to the wind again. Jibs and topsail ran down, she stopped, and the anchor splashed. People shouted and pushed towards the landing steps.
Cayman's boat was lowered. Betty saw Kit, Macallister and some others jump on board. The boat pulled for the steps and the crowd surged along the edge of the mole. When the boat stopped, hats were thrown up, and Betty knew in Spain one throws one's hat to the maestro after a great exploit in the bull-ring. Hoarse shouts pierced the rumble of the sea.
"Viva el Yngles! Buen' muchacho! Viva el Señor Jefferson."
CHAPTER IX
KIT'S REWARD
On the morning after their arrival, Kit and Macallister went to the Metropole. Macallister wore a neat blue uniform, a cap with the company's badge, and spotless white deck-shoes. His talk was careless and now and then his eyes twinkled. Kit's look was moody, and he wore plain duck clothes. He did not know if he was the company's servant and rather thought he was not; Don Arturo had sent for him, and he was probably going to be dismissed.
When they went up the drive to the big square hotel Macallister looked about.
"Don Arturo's a great man, but he has no' much eye for beauty," he remarked. "When his architect built the Metropole his model was a block. Maybe the cube style's economical. We get the maist room inside wi' the least span o' wall, but if I was a Spaniard, I'd make a bomb and blow up the ugly thing."
He stopped and putting his head on one side studied the hotel. "Bulk has value, if it's properly relieved. The old Greeks kenned; they used the square but they broke the line wi' pillars and cornices. Maybe, if ye worked in two, three mouldings and ran a loggia along the front – "
"I didn't know you were an architect," Kit said impatiently.
"Ye dinna ken a' old Peter's talents," Macallister rejoined with a grin. "Architecture's useful and man has done fine work in stone, but for a pattern o' lightness, strength and beauty ye'll need to take a modern steel steamship. She must bear strains and stresses ye dinna bother aboot on land. A town hall, for example, is no designed for plunging through a steep head sea. Man! wi' a rule and a scriber, I'd design ye a better building than yon hotel."
Kit frowned and pulled out his watch. "Don Arturo is waiting for us."
"Just that! He stated eleeven o'clock. There was no inquiry aboot my convenience. Maybe the head o' a big steamship line likes to command, and deck officers touch their hats and run, but when ye send for an engineer ye use some manners."
Kit said nothing and started for the hotel. He was not an engineer, and at the Liverpool shipping office had been drilled to prompt obedience. The clerk, however, told him to wait and sent a page with Macallister to a room above.
"You are some minutes late," said Don Arturo, indicating a chair.
Macallister noted that the open window commanded the front of the hotel. In fact, when he stopped to criticise its architecture he imagined his stopping might be remarked.
"Three minutes, sir," he admitted, pulling out a black-metal watch. "On board a Spanish ship breakfast's no' very punctual."
Don Arturo knew something about Macallister; moreover he knew his type. Sometimes one may bully a merchant captain, but not a Scots engineer.
"You left your ship without leave," he said. "Are you willing to state your grounds for breaking the company's and the British Board of Trade's rules?"
"To begin with, the ship was Spanish for the time," Macallister rejoined. "Had there been work for me on board I might have stopped, but the captain was sick and the office had no use for the boat. Then I reckoned Mr. Musgrave might need me in Africa. In a sense, his business was the company's."
Don Arturo pondered. It looked as if Musgrave had staunch friends, but this was not important. He saw the engineer was not at all embarrassed.
"Mr. Musgrave has pairs," Macallister resumed. "For a' that, he's young and had undertaken a verra awkward job. I thought he needed a man o' sound judgment, in fact, a man like me."
"So you stole away and went with him? If this is an example, I don't know that your judgment is very good, but I'm curious about your adventures."
Macallister instinctively felt for his pipe. Don Arturo glanced at the pipe and pushed across a cigar box. The cigars were packed in glass, but Don Arturo was a great merchant and sometimes indulged his humour. It was plain the other rather thought himself his guest than a servant who deserved a reprimand.
"Thank you," said Macallister coolly. "Weel, if ye'll no' be bored – "
He narrated his journey up the wady and the encounter with the Moors, but gave Kit the leading part. Macallister had some talent for story-telling and used no reserve. When he talked about their interview with the chief Don Arturo stopped him.
"Your carelessness with the pistol might have cost your party much," he said.
Macallister smiled. "It might have cost the headman mair!"
"That's obvious," said Don Arturo, with a touch of impatience. "But suppose the bullet had struck him? You don't imagine his people would have let you go?"
"It's no' altogether obvious, until ye understand. When she exploded I put my finger on the magazine. There was another cartridge. Had the headman moved when I went up til him – He didna move; he was wooden. I'm thinking he kenned the magazine wasna empty."
"But you gave him the pistol?"
"Just that!" said Macallister. "Maybe the experiment was rash, but I was justified. Yon Moor was proud and his nerve was good."
Don Arturo thought the engineer's was better and, allowing for the strain, his judgment was strangely quick and accurate. He did not doubt the tale; he knew much about his servants, and when some boiler tubes had burst —
"For all that, I don't see how you persuaded him to release the men," he said.
"Mr. Musgrave persuaded him. His argument was good, though it wasna altogether his argument, but himself. The lad's honesty was plain. The Moor couldna doubt him, although he might ha' doubted you or me."
"Sometimes frankness pays," Don Arturo remarked with a twinkle. "What argument did Musgrave use?"
"His master had gone, naebody would ransom us and the ithers, and we had naething worth the stealing. It carried weight, but no' a' the weight. The Moor was a robber, but in the desert he was a kin' of prince, and a prince cannot be shabby. Mr. Musgrave, wi' two, three ragged sailors and a very old gun, had come seeking him. The thing was a joke, but I reckon the Moor saw the joke was fine. He was a proud man and he let the sailors go."
Don Arturo mused. He was not romantic, but, like the Moor, he was sometimes generous. He pictured the little drama in the sands; the English lad's naïve honesty, and the dark Moor's reserve. The tale was moving, and he was forced to approve the part his servants had played. But other business waited.
"Well," he said, "you have talked about Musgrave, but I don't know that you have yet justified your leaving your ship."
"I dinna ken I tried," Macallister rejoined. "When I'm wanting it, I can get anither post, but I doubt if ye could get an engineer like me."
"It's possible I could not," Don Arturo admitted with some dryness. "Well, if you can satisfy Don Ramon, you may go back on board, and now you might send up Mr. Musgrave."
Macallister went off, smiling, but when Kit entered he was highly strung, since he expected to be told he must give up his post. He looked worn, for fatigue and strain had left their mark. Don Arturo looked very business-like, and his watch was on the table.
"Mr. Macallister has given me some particulars about your exploits and I have not much to ask," he said. "To begin with, when the French gunboat chased you, why did you resolve to land the guns?"
"I don't altogether know, sir," Kit replied. "It was plain Wolf's agent had sold us and it looked as if he had cheated the Moors. They had paid for goods they would not get, and although Yusuf made the bargain, in a sense, they dealt with me."
"You felt your business was to deliver the goods?"
"Something like that, sir," Kit said awkwardly. "Then, since Wolf had engaged to land the guns, I thought we could best baffle him by carrying out his engagement."
Don Arturo saw the ironical justice that marked Kit's counterplot, but he said dryly, "I expect you knew you risked my ship?"
"I knew this afterwards; when the gunboat steamed up I couldn't weigh the risk. I didn't know how much Captain Revillon knew, and if he could seize the ship had we thrown the guns overboard. It was obvious he could not seize her if we crossed the shoals. The water was not deep enough for him."
"We'll let it go. Why did you return for the men?"
"I thought the job was mine, sir. I was the company's servant, and the captain was injured. If I'd told my story at the office and the Commandancia– But you can see the obstacles!"
Don Arturo nodded. "I imagine I do see. You thought you could handle the thing better than Don Ramon and the Spanish officers? Rather a bold claim, was it not?"
"They'd have been embarrassed by difficulties that did not bother me," Kit replied with some hesitation. "I thought speed and quietness important; the plan was to steal off and get to work."
He had stood in front of the table, but Don Arturo now indicated a chair.
"On the whole, I think your plan was good. All the same, if you stop with us, you must run no more risks like that. Your business is to carry out the company's orders."
Kit's heart beat, for his relief was keen. "Then I may go back, sir?"
"You will not go back on board the correillo, but Don Ramon is sending Mossamedes to Cuba and has a post for you. At sea, your duties will be a purser's; at the Cuban ports you will be the company's agent. All the cargo is not sold and you will negotiate with the merchants. The post carries better pay, but Don Ramon will give you particulars. I believe Mr. Macallister will join the ship, and the correillo's captain takes command."
Kit had not thought Don Arturo meant to promote him, and the blood came to his skin.
"Thank you, sir," he said. "I'll try – "
Don Arturo smiled and looked at his watch.
"If you carry out your new duties with the resolution and honesty that marked your dealings with the Moors, I expect we shall be satisfied. In the meantime, they want you at the office."
Kit started for the office. He was promoted, and although his promotion was perhaps not marked, he thought the head of the line had studied him and meant to help his progress. Moreover, his supposition was accurate.
Soon after Kit had gone a page brought up Austin, and Don Arturo remarked: "I have just given Musgrave rather a better post."
"Then I expect he will make good. If he had joined me, I'd have given him the best post I'd got."
"Musgrave's friends believe in him," Don Arturo replied. "But we must remember that caution is sometimes useful and the lad is young. I would sooner his promotion was gradual. But we have something else to talk about."
In the meantime, Kit went to the office and afterwards to a bench in the alameda. His post was better than he had thought, and he felt he had, so to speak, made a start. If he satisfied the company, he might go ahead fast, and this was important because it was bound up with something else. Since he saw Olivia he had pondered, and now he reviewed his efforts and ambitions. It was getting plain that when he fell in love with Olivia and tried to force himself above his proper level he was rash. She had refused him and, from her point of view, she was justified, but in a sense, his proposal was not regular, and he had declared if his fortunes mended, he would renew it in proper form. He owed Olivia this; the strange thing was he was rather conscious of his duty than keen.
To begin with, he must see Mrs. Austin, since he now meant to keep the rules. She was at home and when she received him he said: "You know we got the men, and I must thank you for lending me Cayman and sending the schooner. If she had not arrived, I doubt if we could have brought Cayman home."
"Oh, well!" said Mrs. Austin, "to find you have forgiven me is some relief, but after all I don't deserve your thanks. You see, Miss Jordan sent the other boat!"
"Betty sent the Lucia?" Kit exclaimed.
"She bullied me and declared I had not used you well. While we talked about it my husband arrived and rather agreed with Betty's argument. Nevertheless, I imagine she doubted us, because soon afterwards she bullied Jefferson. She stated that if he did not go to your rescue, she would give up her post."
Kit coloured, and Mrs. Austin was amused by his embarrassment.
"Perhaps I did not use you well," she resumed.
"From the beginning you were very kind," Kit broke out. "When I last saw you, I talked like a hot-tempered fool. I didn't see all I owed you, I meant to force you to lend me the boat. The strange thing is, I hadn't thought about Betty; but it was really she who helped. Betty is like that – "
He was quiet for a moment or two, but Mrs. Austin waited and he went on: "Well, I have done what I undertook, and Don Arturo has given me a better post. Perhaps the post is not very good, but I am going to ask Olivia if, when I have made some progress, she will marry me."
"Do you expect me to approve? Or do you feel I ought to know your plans?" Mrs. Austin asked.
"I think I want to be honest," Kit replied, rather dryly.
Mrs. Austin smiled. "Your honesty is obvious. Well, I don't know that I would approve, but if you can persuade Olivia, I'll try to be resigned."
"You don't expect I can persuade her?"
"Perhaps I don't. Do you?"
"I do not," said Kit. "For all that, I'm going to use some effort."
"You are an obstinate fellow," Mrs. Austin rejoined. "However, you will understand my not wishing you good luck. In fact, I rather think you don't know your luck!"
Kit went off. He was puzzled. Sometimes Mrs. Austin's remarks did puzzle him, but he began to see a light. But the light was dim. Full illumination had not yet come.