Part 44 (1/2)

”The man's by way of being a friend of mine and took you into his house when you were in some danger of bleeding to death. I'm not sure that he's guilty, and now I've come with you, am going to see he gets fair play; but if you can prove your charge, you may do what you like with him. I think we'll let it go at that.”

d.i.c.k nodded. ”In the first place, we must make our port, and it's lucky we'll have smooth water until the sea breeze gets up.”

Telling the fireman he could go to sleep, he moved about the engine with an oilcan and afterwards cleaned the fire. Then he lay on the counter with his hand on the helm while the launch sped across the gla.s.sy sea, leaving a long wake astern. The high coast ahead got clearer, but after a time dark-blue lines began to streak the glistening water and puffs of wind fanned the men's faces. The puffs were gratefully fresh and the heat felt intolerable when they pa.s.sed, but by and by they settled into a steady draught and the dark lines joined, until the sea was all a glowing ultramarine. Then small ripples splashed about the launch and d.i.c.k glanced ahead.

”She's steaming well,” he said as he listened to the steady snort of the exhaust and humming of the cranks. ”It's lucky, because there's some weight in the wind.”

Some hours later, when the sea was flecked with white, they closed with a strip of gray-green forest that seemed to run out into the water. The launch rolled and lurched as the foam-tipped combers hove her up and the awning flapped savagely in the whistling breeze. Away on the horizon, there was a dingy trail of smoke. Presently Jake stood up on deck, and watched the masts that rose above the fringe of trees.

”There's a black-top funnel like the Danish boat's, and a flag with red and white on it, but it's hanging limp. They don't feel the breeze inside.”

He jumped down as d.i.c.k changed his course, and they pa.s.sed a spit of surf-washed sand, rounded the last clump of trees, and opened up the harbor mouth. The suns.h.i.+ne fell upon a glaring white and yellow town, and oily water glittered between the wharf and the dark hulls of anch.o.r.ed vessels, but d.i.c.k suddenly set his lips. He knew the Danish boat, and she was not there.

”She's gone,” said Jake with a hint of relief in his voice. ”That was her smoke on the skyline.”

CHAPTER XXVIII

ROUGH WATER

As soon as they entered port, d.i.c.k and Jake went to the office of a Spanish s.h.i.+pbroker, who offered them his polite sympathy.

”We had very little cargo here, and when he heard there was some dyewood at San Ignacio the captain steamed off again,” he explained.

”What sort of a port is San Ignacio, and how far is it?” d.i.c.k asked.

”It is an _aldea_ on the sh.o.r.e of a lagoon, with a wharf that small boats can reach, about forty miles from here.”

”Then they take the dyewood off in boats? If there is much of the stuff, it would be a long job.”

”That is so, senor. The boats can only reach the wharf when the tide is high. At other times, the cargo must be carried down through the mud.”

”Have you a large chart of this coast?”

The broker brought a chart and d.i.c.k studied it for some minutes, making notes in his pocket-book. Then he looked up.

”Where can I get fresh water?”

The broker asked how much he wanted and after taking some paper money gave him a ticket.

”There is a pipe on the wharf and when the peon sees the receipt he will fill your tanks.”

d.i.c.k thanked him and going out with Jake found their fireman asleep in a wine-shop. They had some trouble in wakening the man and after sending him off to get the water, ordered some wine. The room was dirty and filled with flies, but the lattice shutters kept out the heat and they found the shadow pleasant after the glare outside. Jake dropped into a cane chair with a sigh of content. He felt cramped and stiff after the long journey in the narrow c.o.c.kpit of the plunging launch, and was sensible of an enjoyable la.s.situde. It would be delightful to lounge about in the shade after refres.h.i.+ng himself with two or three cool drinks, but he had misgivings that this was not what d.i.c.k meant to do.

When he had drained a large gla.s.s of light, sweet wine, he felt peacefully at ease, and resting his head on the chair-back closed his eyes. After this he was conscious of nothing until d.i.c.k said: ”It's not worth while to go to sleep.”

”Not worth while?” Jake grumbled drowsily. ”I was awake all last night.

It's quiet and cool here and I can't stand for being broiled outside.”

”I'm afraid you'll have to. We start as soon as Maccario has filled the tank.”