Part 23 (1/2)

CHAPTER XVII

AUSTIN GOES DOWN RIVER

A week had pa.s.sed without their finding any gum, when one evening Austin stood beside Jefferson in the _c.u.mbria_'s forecastle. It felt as hot as an oven, though the damp fell in big drops from the iron beams and trickled down the vessel's unceiled skin, while a smoky lamp supplied it with insufficient illumination. The faint light showed the hazily outlined forms of the men sitting limp and apathetic, now the long day's toil was over, in the acrid smoke of Canary tobacco, and forced up clearly the drawn face of one who lay beneath it, gazing at Austin with a glitter in his uncomprehending eyes. Behind him other figures occupied a part of the shelf-like row of bunks, but they were mere shapeless bundles of greasy blankets and foul clothing, with only a shock of damp hair or a claw-like hand projecting from them here and there to show that they were human. Jefferson said nothing, but his face was a trifle grim, and he straightened himself wearily when one of the Spaniards rose and moved into the light.

”Senor,” he said, with a little deprecatory gesture, ”for ourselves we others do not complain, but these men are very sick, and the medicines of the Senor Austin do not make them better. One of them is my cousin, another my wife's brother; and there are those in Las Palmas and Galdar who depend on them. In a week, or, perhaps, a day or two, they die.

Something must be done.”

There was a faint approving murmur from the rest of the men. They had worked well, but the excitement of the search for the gum was wearing off, and the strain had commenced to tell. Jefferson smiled wryly as he glanced at Austin.

”Hadn't you better ask him what can be done?” he said.

The Spaniard flung his arms up when Austin translated this. ”Who knows?”

he said. ”I am only an ignorant sailorman, and cannot tell; but when we came here the Senor Austin promised us that we should have all that was reasonable. It is not fitting that men should die and nothing be done to save them.”

”I scarcely think it is,” said Austin. ”Still, how to set about the thing is more than I know. It must be talked over. We may, perhaps, tell you more to-morrow.”

He touched Jefferson's shoulder, and they went out of the forecastle and towards the skipper's room silently. When they sat down Jefferson looked hard at him.

”Well?” he said. ”Two of them are your men.”

Austin made a little sign of comprehension. ”I don't remember what I promised them. I had trouble to get them, but I certainly told them the place wasn't a healthy one. That, however, doesn't convey a very sufficient impression to anybody who hasn't been here.”

”No,” and Jefferson smiled grimly, ”I don't quite think it does. The point is that you feel yourself responsible to them, though I don't see why you should. A man has to take his chances when he makes a bargain of the kind they did.”

Austin stretched himself on the settee wearily, and lighted a cigarette.

He had been feeling unpleasantly limp of late, and his head and back ached that night.

”It's a little difficult to define what a bargain really is,” he said.

”Still, it seems to me that to make it a just one the contracting parties should clearly understand, one what he is selling, and the other what he is buying. In the case in question I knew what I was getting, but I'm far from sure the Canarios quite realised what they might have to part with.”

”That is not the business view.”

”I am willing to admit it. I, however, can't help fancying that there is a certain responsibility attached to buying up men's lives for a few dollars when they're under the impression that it's their labour they're selling. In fact, it's one that is a little too big for me.”

Jefferson sat silent for almost a minute, looking at Austin, who met his gaze steadily, with his eyes half closed.

”Well,” he said, ”it isn't the usual view, but there's something to be said for it. What d'you mean to do?”

”Put the sick men on board the launch and run them out to sea on the chance of picking up a West-coast liner, or--and it might suit just as well--one of the new opposition boats. From what I gathered at Las Palmas, the men who run them are, for the most part, rather a hard-up crowd, and you're usually more likely to get a kindness done you by that kind of people. We have nothing to pay their pa.s.sage with, you see.”

”You might get one oil puncheon into the launch. Still, you have to remember that men who go down with fever along sh.o.r.e often die, instead of coming round, when they get out to sea.”

Austin smiled. ”One would fancy that men who stay along sh.o.r.e when they have fever, as these fellows have it, die invariably.”

Once more Jefferson sat silent a while, gazing at his comrade thoughtfully.

”Well,” he said, with a little gesture, ”I leave the thing to you.

After all, it's quite likely that one's dollars aren't worth what you lay out to get them, now and then, but that's certainly not the question. The boat's not making the water I expected, but we haven't found the gum, and engine room and after hold are still almost full. The boiler, as you know, has two or three tubes blowing, and we have nothing to stop them with. That means she's wasting half her steam, and as we have to keep a full head for the pump and winch, the coal's just melting. By the time we heave her off there will be very little left, and I've no fancy for going to sea short of fuel and being picked up as salvage. It's a point that has been worrying me lately.”