Kit Musgrave's Luck

CHAPTER V

THE RETURN TO THE BEACH

It was getting cooler, and long shadows marked the curves of the wady. On the other side, oblique sunbeams touched the bank. The wind had dropped, and as the dew began to fall the hot soil smelt like a brick-kiln. In the distance the surf throbbed, and Kit thought its measured beat soothing. He had had enough of the parched wilderness.

He was languid, for he had borne some strain, and when Miguel and the mate arrived a reaction had begun. The Berbers gave the party a little food and water before they broke camp and vanished in the desert, and Kit started for the coast. Travelling as fast as possible, he had used his short supplies with stern economy, and now, when he thought the shore was three or four miles off, he was hungry and tired.

To some extent, dejection accounted for his fatigue. He had got the men for whom he went, but the thrill he felt at first was gone. Wolf had run away, his wages were not paid, and since he had left his ship without leave, he expected Don Ramon would dismiss him when he got back. Moreover, he had perhaps involved the company in trouble with Captain Revillon and the Spanish officers. In fact, it looked as if he were ruined and disgraced.

He was not going to think about Olivia. She had refused him, but he had really known she would refuse. It was done with; he would be sent back to Liverpool and would not see her again. There was one comfort; Betty would stop. She was getting well and making progress; Jefferson trusted her, and her pay was good. At Liverpool he would not see Betty, but, like Olivia, she did not want him. In fact, nobody had much use for him. He had been easily cheated and had muddled all he undertook. Still, he had got Betty a good post and this was much.

After a time he imagined he ought to see the bay from the top of the bank, and telling Macallister where he was going, he went up the slope. The climb was laborious, and at the top he stopped for breath and shaded his eyes from the level rays. The sun was near the Atlantic and in its track the water was red; the broken ground about him shone like copper. Outside the crimson reflections, the sea was wrinkled and marked by thin white lines where the long rollers broke. The strong light hurt his dazzled eyes, and with a vague sense of disturbance he turned his head. When he looked again he could see the end of the point and the anchorage, but Cayman was gone.

Kit felt slack and sat down in the sand. He could not see all the bay, but a vessel could only anchor at one spot and Cayman was not there. Kit had got a very bad jolt. The food and water would hardly last for another day, the coast was an arid desert, and he did not think he could reach the camp the Berbers had left. He did not know if he hoped Cayman had been blown ashore, but if she were wrecked, the crew might have saved some stores. A mile or two farther on one ought to see the beach from the top of ground that now broke his view, and he was anxious to get there, but went down slowly. He must be cool and not alarm the others yet.

At the bottom he joined Macallister, who had waited and gave him a keen glance.

"Weel?" said the engineer.

"Cayman's not riding in the pool," Kit replied.

Macallister was quiet for a moment or two. Then he said. "We have half a gallon o' smelling water, and there are eight o' us! As a rule, I ha' no' much use for water, but I mind when we broke the condensing plant on a coolie pilgrim boat. Ye could not fill your tanks at every coaling station then. I got some water from the hot well; tasting o' copper and grease. We fed the boilers from the sea and drove her, with funnel flaming and tubes caked wi' salt. Iron burns, ye ken, unless it's clean, and I thought the softening furnaces would blow down. She was crowded fore an' aft wi' sweating, gasping coolies, and we let her gang. When we made port I swallowed maist a gallon o' lemonade, claret and ice. Man, I hear the ice tinkling against the pail!"

"To talk about it makes one thirsty and we mustn't be thirsty yet," Kit remarked, frowning. "Say nothing to the others. We'll push on for the ridge."

To push on was some relief from suspense. The rest of the party had not stopped and there was nobody but Macallister to note Kit's keen impatience. He wanted to reach the high ground that commanded the beach, because it was possible Cayman had broken her cable and driven ashore. Kit felt he must know, and the shadows got longer fast. Perhaps it would be dark before he got to the ridge. His burned skin was wet by sweat, and his breath was short, but he stubbornly laboured on.

At length he climbed a sloping bank, and from a high spot searched the bay. The sun had gone, and the red on the sky and water was fading, but behind the point Cayman's mast cut the glow. Kit's heart beat. The ketch was not at her anchorage, but she was not on the beach. He shaded his eyes and looked again.

The mast was slightly inclined; in the glimmering reflections he could hardly distinguish the boat's hull. The tide was ebbing and he thought her keel touched bottom, but there was some water under her bilge. Although the risk of hunger and thirst was gone, Kit was disturbed. When he studied the water-line on the beach, it looked as if Cayman would presently fall over on her side. On a flat, open coast, the tides do not rise much, but there was a difference of some feet in the level, and at low ebb the boat would be nearly dry.

Kit wondered whether she was damaged, because one of two things had happened. When it blew fresh Cayman had broken her cable and driven ashore; or the captain had slipped the anchor and tried to get to sea. That he had not done so was plain, but since she had not broken up, Kit imagined she lay in a hollow, sheltered to some extent by higher sands outside. To get to sea she must wait for the big tides at the new moon, and then perhaps one must land all heavy gear and ballast and put the stuff on board again when she reached the anchorage. The job would be awkward and long.

Pulling himself together, Kit went down to the wady and told the others the ketch had grounded. The tired men saw all this implied and while the light faded made the best speed they could. When they reached the beach it was dark, but the captain had kept good watch and soon after they arrived a boat came shorewards on a smooth-topped roller. Running into the water, they pushed her off and Kit presently climbed on board the ketch. Cayman's deck was sharply slanted; sometimes she lifted her lower side and one felt her bilge work in the sand. Some distance out to sea the rollers crashed upon the shoals, but the waves that broke about the ketch were small. Kit dined on salt fish, potatoes and sour red wine. In the morning he would talk to the captain; now he was very tired and must sleep.

He got up soon after daybreak and joined the captain on a plank hung over the side. A man with a mallet caulked an open seam and indicated three or four butt joints that were freshly tarred. When Kit had looked about, the captain sat down on the plank and made a cigarette.

"It blew, señor, but it blew!" he said. "When the anchor dragged we hoisted jib and mizzen, but she would not beat out. Then while we hoisted the reefed mainsail she struck. A comber threw her up the sand; we lowered all sail and let her drive, until we knew by the smoother water she had crossed the shoal. Then two anchors brought her up."

Kit nodded. "What are you going to do about it?"

"When we have caulked some seams she will not leak much, and if it does not blow again, she will lie here until the tides get high. In the meantime, we will heave out the ballast and land it on the beach. Then perhaps at the new moon we can kedge her across to the pool."

"The job will be long," said Kit. "My men must rest to-day. In the morning we will get to work."

They began at sunrise next day, but the work was hard. Cayman had been built for speed and when sail was set would not stand up without a large quantity of ballast. The ballast was iron kentledge, moulded to fit her frames, and when the floors were up the men, crouching in the dark, pulled the heavy blocks out of the bilge-water. Except for an hour or two at low tide Cayman did not lie quiet; when the water lifted her she rolled. The blocks were sent up in a sling and lowered into the boat, which did not carry much and must be rowed for half a mile across angry waves. Near the beach an anchor was dropped, and when she swung head to sea her crew jumped over and carried the iron through the surf. Sometimes they were forced to wait, and sometimes to haul off the boat.

All hands were needed, and after a day or two Kit's muscles ached and his bruised hands bled. When his limbs were cramped by crawling among the timbers in the hold, he went off in the boat, and clasping a fifty-six-pound lump of iron laboured up the hammered beach. Sometimes a roller, frothing round his waist, urged him on, and sometimes he stopped and braced himself against the backwash. The bottom was not firm; gravel and sand rolled up and down and buried his sinking feet. Moreover, he knew the iron he laboriously carried up must all be carried back.

When the ballast was out the captain hesitated. On the Moorish coast sheltered ports are not numerous, and for the most part Cayman landed and shipped cargo from anchorages behind the sands and reefs. In consequence, her main anchor and cable were very large and heavy, but the captain thought the vessel must be further lightened in order to float across the shoals. Now the iron was landed, she rolled violently, and one hot afternoon, Kit, holding on by a runner, leaned against the bulwarks. Macallister and Miguel occupied the hatch coaming, the captain the grating by the tiller.

"If we do not land the anchor, she may strike when we kedge her across the sand," he said. "If she gets across and it blows hard we will need the big anchor and all the chain to hold her. We must run one of two risks."

"If she strikes on the high sand she will stop for good," Miguel remarked. "In two or three tides the surf would break her up."

"I think that is so," the captain agreed. "In the pool she might ride to the small anchor and the kedge. It depends on the wind. I do not know if we will get much wind or not."

Miguel shrugged and used the Castilian rejoinder, "Quien sabe?" which implies that nobody knows.

The captain lighted a cigarette. He was obviously irresolute, and Kit sympathised. One could not weigh the risks and the choice was hard.

"When you cannot see your way you trust your luck and drive ahead," Macallister remarked in uncouth Castilian. "If you do not get to the spot you want, you get somewhere and the hardest road is often shortest. Land your anchor and let us start."

"Bueno!" said the captain, who got up and went to the windlass.

At high tide, when Cayman floated, they carried out the kedge, and hove the main anchor and put it in the boat. Kit went with the landing party and doubted if they could have got out the anchor had not Miguel been on board. They had no mechanical help; while the boat plunged in the foaming surf the ponderous lump of iron must be lifted by muscular effort and when one struggles against an angry backwash one cannot lift much. Kit was exhausted, his hands bled, and Miguel's arm was torn, but they got the anchor over and returning to the ketch were fronted by another obstacle.

In broken water the boat would not carry all the chain; they must take it by fifteen-fathom lengths, and the connecting shackles had rusted fast. Kit thought nobody but Macallister could have knocked out the pins, but at length the cable was divided and they resumed their labour in the surf.

CHAPTER VI

BETTY DEMANDS HELP

On the evening of Austin's return to Las Palmas he and Jefferson smoked and talked on the veranda steps. Mrs. Austin and Mrs. Jefferson were occupied with some sewing at a table near the lamp, but Olivia was not about. She had gone to a concert at the Metropole with a young English tourist whom Mrs. Austin approved. For all that, Mrs. Austin did not know how far Olivia approved and she was bothered about Kit. He had been longer than she had expected, and to some extent perhaps she was accountable for him. Mrs. Austin generally meant well and as a rule her plans to help people worked, but Kit was headstrong and had not left much to her.

She wondered what Austin thought about her sending off the Cayman. Harry did not say much and he had been occupied since his return. Jefferson had, no doubt, talked to Muriel, but Muriel was sometimes reserved. Now Jefferson and Harry were together, Mrs. Austin thought she might, if she were cautious, get a useful hint.

"I would rather like to get up an excursion to the mountains for Mrs. Gardner's party. She was Muriel's friend in England, and we have not done much to amuse her," she said. "However, I expect you could not join us?"

"You mustn't count on Jake and me," Austin replied. "We have let things go long enough."

"Yet the business kept going. In fact, I imagine it went pretty well."

"That is so," Austin agreed with a smile. "We know where you got your talents, and things do go well when Don Pancho resumes control. All the same, he's had enough and I am needed."

Mrs. Austin was baffled. She had not learned much from Harry, and she tried Jefferson.

"You have not a useful father-in-law. Did you find a bad tangle when you got back?"

"I have known a worse tangle when I was about," Jefferson replied. "Anyhow, I've a pretty good Spanish clerk and Miss Jordan's a wonder." He paused and gave Mrs. Austin a thoughtful glance. "She's a girl to reckon on, but she was glad to slacken up and let me get to work. Struck me she was quiet. Something's bothering her, I guess."

Mrs. Austin let it go. If they would not talk about Cayman, she would not talk about Betty, but she listened. After all, she had given them a lead.

Jefferson lighted a cigarette and turned to Austin. "You met Don Ramon. Were his remarks illuminating?"

"Don Ramon is sometimes discreet; I didn't get much from him. The Commandancia people are his friends and so far I reckon they have not made trouble about the men Musgrave left in Africa. However, he stated that Don Arturo would shortly arrive from Liverpool to see if he could settle the coaling dispute, and I imagine Don Ramon would sooner leave the thing to his chief."

"Do you think Revillon lodged a formal complaint?"

"On the whole, I think not. Revillon's a cautious fellow and didn't get on board Mossamedes. In fact, he hasn't very much to go upon, and it's possible the French foreign office don't want a dispute about the Moorish Atlantic coast. But I don't know, and the situation's interesting. My notion is, it will be handled pretty cautiously when Musgrave comes back. Don Arturo's not a fool, and when a light touch is indicated you can trust Don Ramon."

Jefferson smiled. "In a sense Musgrave's not important. His part's to put across an awkward job the Spanish officers would sooner leave alone, and when the log-rolling begins he drops out. If it pays, the others may use his exploit, but we must try to see he does not get hurt. Anyhow, I hope he has not piled up the boat. We'll want her soon."

"That is so," Austin agreed. "I've been closely engaged and haven't yet bothered about the ketch. But are you going?"

Mrs. Jefferson said they had promised to meet some people at the Catalina, and Austin went with them for a short distance. The night was dark, but soon after they left the gate they met a girl going towards the house with a quick, resolute step. It was not Olivia, and when she vanished in the gloom Jefferson smiled.

"Miss Jordan, I think!" he said, and his voice was rather dry.

A few minutes afterwards, Mrs. Austin, looking up with some surprise, saw Betty on the steps.

"If Mr. Jefferson is wanted you have missed him," Mrs. Austin said.

"I did not want Mr. Jefferson. I met him and the others in the road and knew you were alone."

"Then you wished to see me?" said Mrs. Austin, in a careless voice, although she would sooner Austin had turned back. She indicated a chair and resumed: "Very well! Tell me what it is about."

Betty sat down. Her clothes were plain but very neat. She looked business-like and resolute. Mrs. Austin thought her calm cost her something, but her mouth was very firm.

"Kit has not come back," she said after a moment or two. "I waited until a fishing schooner returned from the African coast. The Lucia arrived this afternoon, but her crew had not seen the Cayman. The next boat is not expected for some time, and I saw I must come to you."

Mrs. Austin noted that Betty had informed herself about the sailing of the fishing fleet. She would sooner have sent the girl off, but since she saw no way of doing so politely, resolved to give her a lead.

"I wonder why you came to me."

"Don't you know?" said Betty, who gave her a searching look. "For one thing, when you persuaded Mr. Jefferson to engage me, you had an object. You often have an object when people think you kind!"

"Then you imagine I am accountable for your getting the post?"

"Of course!" said Betty, with a touch of impatience. "Kit told me about his giving you his mother's letter. I rather forced him to tell me; Kit is trustful and he trusted you. Well, I expect you knew that when he left Liverpool he wanted me to marry him. It's plain you thought I might take him from your sister."

"Perhaps I did so," Mrs. Austin admitted. "Kit's an attractive fellow, and when I was young I fought for my lover; in fact, I fought pretty hard. Was it strange that I imagined you might take my line? We are all human; but perhaps you were proud and felt that Kit must fight for you?"

Betty agreed that Mrs. Austin's humanity was obvious. In a way she was a great lady, an acknowledged leader of fashionable people, but she, so to speak, put off her dignity. Betty was a clerk, but the other talked to her as if it were important that both were flesh and blood.

"You don't altogether understand," Betty rejoined. "At the beginning I did not want to keep Kit away from your sister."

"At the beginning! You imply you would have liked to keep him away afterwards?"

"Something like that," said Betty quietly. "I saw Miss Brown was not the girl for Kit."

Mrs. Austin used some control, for Betty's frankness was embarrassing.

"Yet you refused Kit Musgrave at Liverpool!"

"That is so," said Betty and the blood came to her skin. "I'm a clerk and not beautiful like Miss Brown. I have no advantages and knew nothing but my business until Mrs. Jefferson began to teach me. Kit's pay was small; I thought it might be long before he got more and our poverty would keep him down. A young man who marries on very small pay is badly handicapped. Kit has some talent; I thought if he was free and lucky, he might go far. Well, I saw I mustn't stop him, and I let him go."

Mrs. Austin was moved. Betty, like Kit, was naively sincere, and her unselfishness was plain. It looked as if she loved Kit, but her love was marked by something motherly and protective. In spite of this, however, she was now sternly resolute.

"Since you do not approve Olivia, you ought to have been satisfied when I helped Kit to get a post on board a ship that was not often at Las Palmas like the correillo," Mrs. Austin remarked.

"I was not satisfied. All your thought was for your sister. You did not trust Wolf, but you saw Kit trusted you, and you let him run a risk. So long as he was not at Las Palmas, the risk did not matter. Wolf was the cheat you thought. When he'd done with Kit he sold him and the others to the French captain."

Mrs. Austin was surprised that Betty knew so much. Moreover, she was beginning to get angry, because the girl's accusation was just.

"What do you know about Wolf's selling them? You did not see Kit before he went off," she rejoined.

"I did not," said Betty and coloured. "He saw Miss Brown and did not bother about me, but Mrs. Jefferson told me why he wanted the boat, and I went to Don Erminio's."

She was quiet for a few moments and Mrs. Austin saw her shot had reached its mark. Her mood changed and she was sorry for the girl; Betty had pluck and was very frank.

"But you did not know where to stop," Betty resumed and her eyes sparkled. "When Kit wanted to go back you lent him the Cayman. You knew he was rash, but this did not count. You thought the Moors might carry him off and you would get rid of him for good. Kit took the boat and thanked you. Perhaps it's strange, but he had not found you out!"

Mrs. Austin's face got red and to keep her self-control cost her something. She was, however, calm.

"Perhaps I can't persuade you I am not as selfish as you think, but you are not altogether just," she said. "At the beginning I did send Kit to Wolf, although I doubted the fellow. But I did not know the risk he ran. Afterwards, when Kit wanted the Cayman, he had found me out."

She stopped for a moment, and smiled when she resumed: "In fact, Kit was very angry, and his statements were like yours; he declared I had planned to get rid of him. If it is much comfort, he will not trust me again. Well, I did not want him at Las Palmas, but I did want to help. I liked Kit, I liked his honesty; the young fellow is good stuff. We will let this go. I did not willingly let him take the Cayman. He was resolved to get the boat, and Kit is obstinate. He talked about my plotting against him, because he meant to force me to agree, and when I saw his losing his men weighed on him I did agree. That was all. I had no object then but to see him out."