Kit Musgrave's Luck

CHAPTER VI
BETTY DEMANDS HELP

"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."

Betty was persuaded. It looked as if she had exaggerated Mrs. Austin's unscrupulousness, but this was not important. She had come to fight for Kit and the battle was not won.

"Anyhow, you are accountable," she urged. "You let Kit go and he has not come back. Perhaps he's wrecked and hiding on the coast; perhaps the Moors have carried him off. We must find out, you must send another boat——"

She stopped, for Austin came up the steps and leaned against a post. Looking about with a smile, he noted that Mrs. Austin's colour was rather high. Betty was white and highly strung. She was obviously embarrassed by his arrival, but looked resolute.

"You want us to send another boat to Africa, Miss Jordan?" he remarked. "Well, on the whole, I think we must try to indulge you. If you will wait a few minutes, I will go back with you and see Jefferson about it."

He went into the house and Mrs. Austin went after him. When he sat down at a writing table, she stood opposite.

"Were you long in the garden?" she asked.

"Not long, but perhaps long enough," he replied. "I wanted to go round by the back, but to pass through the kitchen might have excited the servants' curiosity. To feel I must steal into my house was rather ridiculous."

Mrs. Austin gave him a searching look. "Then you know the situation! It's awkward, and I'll own my trust in my cleverness has received a nasty knock. You see what I have done? I liked Kit, and he thinks I cheated him. I like Betty and she hates me!"

"Perhaps Miss Jordan has some grounds for annoyance, but I wouldn't exaggerate."

"I did want to keep Kit from Olivia," Mrs. Austin resumed. "Now he's gone back, she'll think him a hero; his going was rather fine. To leave things alone would have been very much better."

"Meddling is sometimes risky," Austin agreed. "On the other hand, Olivia is really not romantic, and I imagine she is weighing young Lockwood's advantages."

"After all, Olivia's not very important, and perhaps Betty's argument was justified. I am accountable for Kit's sailing on board Cayman, and it's possible the Moors have carried him off. I'm not as hard as people think. He must not get hurt."

Austin smiled soothingly. "Exactly! Somebody must go to look for him and I'll try to engage a fishing schooner. The Lucia's fast. Well, I'll talk to Jefferson."

Mrs. Austin put her hand on his arm. "You're a very good sort, Harry. I've done some foolish things, but you haven't yet let me down."

CHAPTER VII
THE "LUCIA" ARRIVES

"It's obvious. One of us ought to go, and the job is mine."

"I think not. You know the sea, but you're a steamboat man. I'm a sailor."

Austin had from the beginning seen that Jefferson knew the part Jacinta had played and knew he himself was accountable for his wife and meant to pay her debts. Jake, however, would not admit this and had taken another line. He was a very good sort, in fact, he was the best. Anyhow, he was a sailor, and somebody must stop at Las Palmas.

"Very well," said Austin. "Don Erminio's house is shut, and I understand his friends don't know where he's gone. Don Ramon has, no doubt, sent him off. Sometimes the captain talks and I expect the Commandancia folks are getting busy. Don Ramon doesn't want any complications before his chief arrives. Well, suppose you bring Musgrave back?"

"I reckon you can leave it to Don Arturo," Jefferson replied. "If Musgrave has got the men, the Spaniards will be glad he's put across an awkward job. Political jealousies are pretty keen, and they have no use for sending Spanish soldiers outside Spanish soil. However, if Kit has put it across, Don Arturo will soon fix up things with the Commandante. I'd back Don Arturo and his manager to bluff Revillon."

Austin agreed, and to agree was some relief. Cayman was his and Jefferson's boat, and he had thought Kit's using her might involve them in some trouble with the government officers. Nevertheless, he must support Jacinta, and Jake would support him.

A few moments afterwards the door opened and Betty came in. Jefferson got up as if he meant to fetch a chair, but Betty did not advance. She stood by the door, looking very slender, straight and white. Her face was quiet and her mouth was firm, but her hands moved nervously. Jefferson stood by his desk and waited. His manner was the manner he would have used had a great lady come in, and Austin thought that after all Betty owed Jacinta much.

"Are you going to send off a schooner in the morning?" she asked.

"It's possible. We were talking about it," Jefferson replied.

"You must send a boat," said Betty firmly.

Jefferson said nothing, but looked at Austin, who knew he must be quiet.

"I don't know if I'm much use and perhaps I'm not," Betty resumed. "However, if a boat does not sail, I'm going back to Liverpool." She paused and added with a hint of strain: "I don't want to go."

"Thank you," said Jefferson. "Well, I allow we want you to stop. There's another thing. I understand my partner kind of promised a boat would go. Sometimes he's rash, but I feel I've got to see him out."

For a moment Betty turned her head, but when she looked up again she was calm and businesslike.

"I am sorry I disturbed you," she said. "If you think I took a line your clerk ought not to take, I will give up my post. However, you are occupied with Mr. Austin, and we can talk about this again——"

She hesitated and the blood came to her skin. "I ought to have known you would not refuse; I really did know, but speed's important," she added, and went off.

"I reckon I ought not to have kept her in suspense," Jefferson remarked. "Miss Jordan's modest, but she has grit, and grit like hers is fine. Muriel is fond of her, and I think she is happy with us. At Liverpool her luck was pretty bad, but if she couldn't bluff me, she was going back. Well, if Kit Musgrave——"

He stopped and Austin, understanding his embarrassment, smiled. Olivia was his relation, but he agreed that if Kit, for her sake, let Betty go, he was a fool. Austin thought he saw what Betty's staunchness cost. The girl was proud, but when she imagined Kit was in danger she conquered her pride. She knew Jefferson knew something about Kit's infatuation, and that her demand for help indicated that she loved him; but she did not count this important. Austin thought that after all Betty's sense of values was just.

For a few minutes he and Jefferson resumed their talk, and then started for the port. They found the Lucia's captain on board, and before long all was ready for her departure in the morning.

In the meantime, Kit and Cayman's crew were strenuously occupied. After they had landed the ballast, cable and all heavy stores, they took careful soundings in the boat and marked the best line to the pool by bearings from the shore. Then, when the moon was new and high water at about twelve o'clock one hot morning they launched the boat. For about two hours there would be water enough to float Cayman across the highest sands, but if she did not reach the pool before the tide ebbed much she would strike and stop for good. Since the ballast was landed, sail could not be used and she must, if possible, be towed by the boat. Kit, however, doubted. There was some wind and towing would be hard. He thought they would soon be forced to kedge; to carry out a small anchor and heave the vessel forward by the rope. Perhaps the worst was the sun was nearly overhead.

The windlass clanked until the cable ran nearly straight up and down, and Kit jumped into the boat. It was not his business, but flesh and blood could not long bear the strain and all must work by turns. For a minute or two they waited, and he looked about. The light on the sea was dazzling, and one saw nothing but glittering lines of foam that marked the turmoil on the sands. To tow Cayman across the belt of broken water looked impossible, but they must try, since kedging is slow and time was short. Moreover, the shoals beyond the pool to some extent broke the sea.

The patron signalled, they got out the oars, and the boat went ahead. She did not go far. The tightening rope jerked her back, under Cayman's bowsprit, and, when they pulled ahead again, fouled the oars. Then the boat sheered off at an angle and they struggled savagely to get her in line. Cayman floated high above water, exposing her side to the wind, and the steep swell rolled her about. Her progress was not even; she advanced by awkward leaps, running up on the boat and a few moments afterwards dragging her back. When her bows swung up Kit saw her copper sparkle with reflections of green and gold, but one did not see it long. The bows went down, the boat ran back, and the plunging bowsprit was over his head. He heard the others' laboured breath and set his mouth and rowed.

Cayman was moving, but her progress was horribly slow. The men's bodies were tense with effort and the muscles on their arms swelled in knots. Their legs were braced like iron, and the sweat glistened on their brown skin. Kit could not see properly, and was conscious of a salt taste in his mouth. In the desert his lips had cracked and he thought they bled. Perhaps he had torn them when he clenched his teeth. The others rowed stubbornly, but he knew they could not keep it up.

They did not keep it up. The tightening rope fouled the steering oar, the boat was drawn back, and when she struck Cayman's bow a man fell off his thwart.

His oar went in the water and when it was recovered the patron signed them to come on board. Miguel and two or three more jumped down and Kit leaned slackly against the bulwarks. There was no shade, the hold and cabin were unthinkably hot, but he saw the short, thin shadow the mainmast threw across the deck had moved. This meant the sun had passed its highest point and the tide was ebbing. He could not judge the progress they had made. Astern, all was dazzling white and yellow. Foam and sand melted in a blaze of colour. The patron stood on the steering gratings and his brows were knit. He said nothing, but Kit thought he knew they could not tow her across.

After a time the patron signalled, a small anchor plunged, the boat came alongside, and Kit helped a fresh crew to put the kedge anchor on board. To carry it ahead was easier than towing, but when they got back they must break out the other anchor and then heave Cayman up to the kedge. To heave by hand was fastest, and for a few minutes the row of men, singing hoarsely, strained and swung. Then the singing stopped, their bodies got upright and went no farther back. The veins stood out on their brown foreheads, but the rope would not come in. They hung on, tense and rigid, unwilling to own that they were beaten.

Perhaps the wind had freshed, for Cayman's plunges were sharper. Without her ballast, she rolled and jumped ridiculously like a cork, and now and then her heavy masts lengthened the swing, until it looked as if she were rolling over. There was not much sea, but on the sands its movement was horizontal; it rolled across the bottom, and for the ketch to advance she must overcome its backward impulse.

The men took the rope to the windlass and laboriously hove the levers up and down. Sometimes the drum would not turn; and then the sharp clink of the pawls indicated that the rope came in. When she was over the kedge all were exhausted, but the anchor must be dropped to hold the ground they had won while the boat took the kedge another cable's length ahead.

When the mast was for a moment upright Kit looked at the shadow and saw it had moved across another plank. He doubted if they could get across the sand, although the men were doing all men could do. The strange thing was, they held out in the scorching heat. But if they did get across, their labour would not be finished, and Kit owned he shrank from reloading the ballast. When they landed the iron, the sea carried the boat ashore; when they brought it off she must be driven against the rollers. Moreover, the work must be done with speed, because the anchorage was unsafe. Cayman had driven ashore and, if it blew hard, might drive ashore again. She could not, without her ballast, beat for open sea.

Somebody shouted and Kit saw an object on the horizon. It was like a sail, but he was dull and his satisfaction was not keen. The other boat would not arrive for some time, and if they did not reach the pool before her, the ebbing tide would strand them on the bank. Although help was perhaps coming, it might come too late. They must concentrate on getting across, and trying to brace himself, he jumped into the boat.

The wind freshened and progress was slower, but the heat did not get less. Kit's head swam, his arms were cramped, and the backward swing with the oar badly hurt his side. To heave at the windlass levers was worse, and he did not bother about the sail. Time was going and he thought he felt Cayman's keel touch bottom. Perhaps the sand was uneven and she had crossed a hummock. He laboured mechanically, seeing nothing but the lever he pulled up and down. All the same, he knew the kedge warp came in, because the pawls clinked; if they stopped, the men were beaten, and Cayman would soon strike. Kit did not know the depth of water the patron got, but the sea was smoother, and this indicated that the tide had sunk behind the shoals. In fact, Kit thought he saw shining sand in the foam. All must brace up for a last effort.

The rope came in faster, as if the resistance slackened, and when the kedge was carried out the men left the windlass and walked aft along the deck with the rope. Somebody said there was good water under the keel, the long pole the captain used for sounding hardly touched bottom, and then did not touch.

"Basta!" he shouted; they made the rope fast, and Kit sat down on deck.

A two-masted vessel came up the channel. The sweep of her slanted green hull, outlined by curling foam, and her high, shining canvas were beautiful, but Kit hardly glanced at her. He was exhausted, and leaning against the bulwarks, he shut his eyes.

Soon afterwards, Jefferson jumped on board and stopped by Kit. Kit's skin was burned, and crusted by salt and sand where the spray had dried. His lips were cracked, and his torn hands bled. Getting an anchor out of a plunging boat is awkward work.

"Hallo!" said Jefferson. "You look as if you had got up against it hard."

Kit opened his eyes and smiled. "I think we have had enough."

Jefferson nodded. "We'll put you on board Lucia; they have rigged an awning under the mainboom. We've got some ice and Pepe knows how to mix a long, cool drink." He turned to the patron. "If there is much sea next high water, you cannot ride to the kedge. I see you have landed the best anchor."

The patron said he had done so and Jefferson ordered his boat to the bow.

"Let your men rest; the Lucia's are fresh. But what about Miguel and Juan, the mate?"

"They are in the forecastle, getting up another warp."

Jefferson gave Kit a smile. "You brought them back! We'll talk about it again. I must get the anchor while there's water across the sand, and will put you on board Lucia before I start."

Kit went on board and got into a hammock under the awning. He thought Jefferson's getting to work typical; Jefferson's habit was to work and talk afterwards. Now he had arrived Kit was not going to bother. His job was finished, and things went smoothly when Jefferson took control. Pepe brought him a cool drink, and soon after he drained the glass he went to sleep.

CHAPTER VIII
"CAYMAN'S" RETURN

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

"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.

CHAPTER X
OLIVIA'S REFUSAL

"I imagined I forced her; now I doubt. She is kind and it looks as if I'm not as clever as I thought. Anyhow, I didn't force her to send the other boat; if force was needed, you did that. When the Lucia arrived we were worn out, but all the ballast must be brought off through the surf. It had been calm unusually long, we knew the wind would soon come, and if it blew fresh before we got the big anchor on board, Cayman would be wrecked. I hardly durst think about the job."

"You had a bad time, Kit?"

"Perhaps I got as good a time as I deserved. When I arrived from Liverpool I was very raw, but didn't know my rawness. People indulged me, and I went ahead, satisfied I could pull off all I undertook. I didn't know I was used and cheated; no doubt Wolf and Yusuf laughed! They'd got a dull, self-confident simpleton to play their crooked game. Well, in a way, perhaps, it was lucky I lost the men. I began to see my level."

Betty mused. She rather liked Kit's humiliation. Perhaps it was extravagant, for his rash return to Africa was very fine. Although his venture looked hopeless, he had gone. The strange thing was, when at length he saw Wolf had cheated him, he did not see another had done so. Betty wanted to warn him, but knew she must not.

"You were sincere and nothing you did was shabby," she said. "Perhaps your luck was bad, but this is not important. You didn't think about yourself; you were not daunted——"

"I was daunted," Kit declared. "When I landed from Cayman and started for the desert with three or four sailors, I wanted to run back to the boats. You see, the thing was ridiculous. All my fine romantic plans had led to this. However, we'll let it go. You're staunch and you helped me out. Now, when I'm hipped and moody you let me talk. I doubt if you know what a very good sort you are."

Betty gave him a level glance. She was moved and calm was rather hard, but calm was plainly indicated.

"Come in again when I'm not engaged, because I must send you off," she said. "Jefferson goes to Orotava with Mrs. Jefferson in the morning and some accounts must be made up before he starts." She paused and added: "I think Mrs. Austin and Miss Brown mean to join Mrs. Jefferson."

Kit went off. It was strange, but Betty's news was something of a relief. After all, if he did not see Olivia in the morning, he need not, for some time, resign himself to her refusal. She would, no doubt, refuse him, and he wondered whether his shrinking from the jolt accounted for his moodiness. Perhaps the moodiness was not logical, but he was moody. It would have been much better had Betty not refused him at Liverpool. Betty was his sort and had she loved him he would not have been carried away by Olivia. Of course, Betty was justified; she knew his drawbacks, but from Olivia's point of view, he had others. But in spite of this, after his rash talk in the alameda, he must ask her to marry him. Mrs. Austin knew he was going to do so, and she had smiled.

In the morning he was forced to go to the office, and when Don Ramon sent him off he saw the correillo start for Teneriffe. A clerk told him Mrs. Austin and Miss Brown were on board, but a few days afterwards Kit thought his luck was good. Mossamedes' cargo arrived slowly and Don Ramon resolved to send a schooner to Orotava for a load. Kit got leave to go, and one evening landed on the lava mole.

The evening was calm and light mist floated about the shoulders of the Peak. The long swell broke in sheets of foam, but its beat was slow and languid echoes rolled about the valley. One smelt oleanders and orange flowers. When Kit went up the path to the hotel his look was thoughtful. He wondered whether Mrs. Austin had an object for leaving Las Palmas; but he was going to see Olivia. To know he was refused was better than suspense. Anyhow, he must ask her in proper form, and she must decide. If she would not frankly acknowledge him her lover, she must let him go.

His luck held good, for he found her on a bench behind a tall geranium hedge. Olivia wore a black evening dress with yellow bands, and in the background the red geraniums shone. Kit knew she liked colour, but somehow he was jarred. Olivia was strangely beautiful; one could not see her a poor man's wife.

She looked up and a touch of red came to her skin. Kit thought her surprised and perhaps a little startled, but this was all. He himself was very sober and looked rather grim.

"Kit!" she said. "When did you arrive?"

"I landed not long since from a schooner. The company sent me to buy onions."

Olivia laughed. "You are dreadfully unromantic, but perhaps you thought you had better state your object! Have you bought the onions?"

"Not yet. I wanted to see you first. Sometimes I am romantic. It might be better if I were not."

"Well, perhaps romance cheats one now and then," Olivia rejoined, smiling. "But we won't philosophise. If you had arrived two or three minutes since, you would have seen Jacinta."

"I saw Mrs. Austin the afternoon before you sailed," said Kit. "I told her I was going to ask if you would marry me."

Olivia turned, rather quickly, and gave him a level glance. "Oh, well! I knew your pluck. But what did Jacinta remark?"

"She laughed," Kit replied with some dryness. "Nevertheless, she declared if you were willing——"

"Jacinta is not often rash. I expect you doubted my willingness, but after your extravagant talk in the alameda, you felt you ought to ask."

Kit coloured, but his mouth was rather hard and his look was steady. "I did feel something like that. In the alameda you were amused and your amusement hurt. I was carried away, but I wanted you. Well, I said if I brought back the men and got another post—— I did bring back the men and have got a better post."

Olivia stopped him, but her look was gentler. "Your venture was very fine, Kit. I was proud of you, and if anything could have moved me—— But I'm not your sort."

"You are the most beautiful girl I have known," Kit declared.

"Yet you're a Puritan and ought to know beauty isn't all; I think you really do know. Well, I won't marry you, Kit. We would risk too much. People think me romantic, but I'm not. In fact, I'm cold and very practical. It looks as if we had changed parts and you were the sentimentalist."

"I loved you," Kit said quietly.

"I know," Olivia admitted. "It counted for much. Perhaps I liked you to love me; I own I'm selfish. But your poverty wasn't altogether the drawback. You're sober and quiet; I'm theatrical. I like the middle of the stage; I want colour, movement, and the leading part. It's plain that we would jar."

Kit frowned. He saw Olivia was firm, and saw, rather vaguely, that her firmness was wise. In a sense, she was theatrical. Red geraniums, oleanders and scented orange flowers were her proper background. Olivia belonged to the South. Perhaps it was strange, but he pictured Betty in her neat, cool office. Betty wore white clothes, sometimes with a touch of the soft virgin blue. She stood for the reserve and staunchness of the bracing North. But he had asked Olivia to marry him.

"If you were persuaded we would jar——" he said and stopped.

Olivia smiled, but her smile was kind. "You are trying to be nice, but you want to know why I let you go on? Well, you were a new type. You were fresh and sincere, and sometimes very obstinate. The others indulged me; you did not. You had qualities I liked; perhaps because they were not mine. Then romance called and sometimes I began to think I might take the plunge, but I hesitated. I valued all I must give up and I have not your pluck——"

She paused and gave Kit a quiet glance. "Well, I'm sorry, but you ought to be grateful I was not rash. Although you're a very good sort, you are not my sort. I could not use your rules, and you would not use mine. You must let me go and marry somebody brave and honest——"

She got up and Kit heard steps on the path.

"Some of the people from the hotel," she said. "Will you come and see Jacinta?"

"I think not," Kit replied and forced a smile. "My business is to buy onions and I must get to work."

Olivia gave him her hand. "Perhaps I was shabby. In all you do, I wish you good luck!"

She went to meet the others, and Kit went down the path. He was hurt, but he had braced himself beforehand, and the hurt was less than he had thought. Moreover, he knew Olivia's arguments were good. He loaded the schooner and soon after he returned to Las Palmas Jefferson came to look for him on board Mossamedes.

"If you're not altogether satisfied with the post Don Arturo gave you, another could be got," he said. "A Spanish company is going to run two or three small, fast boats to the islands and wants an agent. I've been asked to find out if you would undertake the duties?"

"I'm not a Spaniard," Kit replied. "Why do they offer me the job?"

"I rather think it is a reward. In Spain, government approval pays, and perhaps the new company got a hint. It's possible the Las Palmas officials feel they owe you something, but can't openly acknowledge your services. However, I'd better state the duties and pay."

When Kit knew the pay he lighted a cigarette and pondered. Then he said, "The offer's good, but I can't take the post. For one thing, I've engaged to go to Cuba for Don Arturo."

"The office would release you."

"I think that is so," Kit agreed. "All the same, I undertook the job; and there's another thing. I'm young and begin to see I'm rawer than I thought. In fact, I've begun to know my proper level and where I really belong. Not long since I got a nasty knock and for a time I'm going slow. Perhaps I may go higher, but when my chance comes I mean to be fit for the better job."

Jefferson nodded. "On the whole, I reckon your plan is good, and we'll let the agency offer go." He paused and resumed: "You were across at Teneriffe. Did you make Orotava?"