CHAPTER IX
STRANDED
The sun was high above the mangroves when Walthew joined Grahame andMacallister at breakfast the morning after they landed the rifles. Nowind entered the gap in the forest, the smoke went straight up from theslanted funnel, and the air was still and sour. The steamer lay nearlydry among banks of mire, though a narrow strip of dazzling watersluggishly flowed inland past her. Fifty yards outshore, there was abroader channel and beyond it the dingy, pale-stemmed mangroves roselike a wall. Some were strangely spotted, and Walthew glanced at themwith disgust as he drank his coffee.
"I guess I've never seen such repulsive trees," he said. "This placetakes away one's appetite. Even the coffee's bitter; you've beendoctoring it."
"It's weel to take precautions," Macallister replied. "Ye got a fewnibbles last night from a dangerous bit beastie they ca' _anopheles_."
"I suppose it doesn't manufacture the malaria germ, and from the looksof the place one wouldn't imagine there was anybody else about for it tobite."
"That's what we're hoping. We're no' anxious for visitors, but when yemeet a smell like what we noo enjoy, ye take quinine till it makes yehear church bells ringing in your head."
Walthew turned to Grahame.
"Can you get her off?"
"We'll try. The sooner we get out the better; but the tides arefalling."
"Do you reckon the half-breed pilot meant to pile her up?"
"No," said Grahame thoughtfully. "For one thing, it would be a dangerousgame, because his employers wouldn't hesitate about knifing him. Theygave us a check which I've reason to believe will be honored and theywouldn't have wasted their money if they'd meant treachery. I imaginethey're all too deep in the plot to turn informer."
"Do you think the pilot will turn up to take us out then?"
"I believe he'll be here at high-water, unless he's prevented."
"What could prevent him?"
"It's possible that our friends have been followed by the opposition'sspies. The man who rules this country is not a fool."
"Then it seems to me we must do our best to heave the boat off thistide."
"Mack and I agree with you," Grahame said meaningly.
Breakfast was soon finished, for nobody had much appetite, and they sat,smoking, in the thin shade while the water got deeper in the creek. Whenthe _Enchantress_ slowly rose upright, Macallister went down to stir thefires; but though the others listened anxiously no splash of paddlesbroke the silence.
"Our pilot's not coming," Grahame said at last. "I'll try to take herout if we can get her afloat."
"What's likely to happen to him if he's been corralled by the dictator'srural-guards?"
"On the whole," said Grahame, "I'd rather not speculate. They have adrastic way of dealing with rebels here."
An hour later the screw shook the vessel, while the windlass strained atthe cable. Once or twice a few links of chain ran in and she moved, butthe mud had a firm hold and she stuck fast again. Then the water beganto fall and Grahame reluctantly told Macallister to draw the fires.
"We're here for the next six days," he said.
"It's to be hoped the Government's spies don't find us out before we gether off," Walthew remarked.
"We could put the coal and heavier stores ashore, if ye can find a bitdry beach to land them on," Macallister suggested. "It would lightenher."
"I thought of that," Grahame answered. "On the other hand, it might besafer to keep them on board as long as possible. We could strip her andland everything in a day."
Macallister agreed, and for four days they lounged in such shade as theycould find. It was fiercely hot, not a breath of wind touched thedazzling creek, and the sun burned through the awning. The pitch bubbledup from the deck-seams, the water in the tanks was warm, and innumerableflies came off from the mangroves and bit the panting men. To makethings worse, there was no coolness after sunset, when steamy mistwrapped the vessel in its folds, bloodthirsty mosquitos came down inswarms, buzzing insects dimmed the lamps, and the smell of festeringmire grew nauseating. Sleep was out of the question, and when themosquitos drove them off the deck the men lay in their stifling berthsand waited drearily for another day of misery to begin.
Among other discomforts, Walthew, who was not seasoned to the climate,was troubled by a bad headache and pains in his limbs, but he saidnothing about this and accompanied Grahame when the latter took thesoundings in the dinghy. At last they rose at daybreak one morning tolighten the vessel, and although he felt shaky and suffered from aburning thirst, Walthew took charge of the gig, which was to be used forlanding coal.
The work was hard, for when they reached a sand bar up the creek theywere forced to wade some distance through mud and shallow water with theheavy bags on their backs, while the perspiration soaked their thinclothes and the black dust worked through to their skin. At noon theystopped for half an hour and Walthew lay in the stern-sheets of the gigwhere there was a patch of shade. He could not eat, and after drinkingsome tea tried to smoke, but the tobacco tasted rank and he put his pipeaway. Up to the present his life had been luxurious. He had beenindulged and waited on, and had exerted himself only in outdoor sports.Now he felt very sick and worn out, but knew that he must make good.Having declined to enter his father's business, he must prove hiscapacity for the career he had chosen. Moreover, he suspected thatMacallister and Grahame were watching him.
When the clatter of the winch began again he hid the effort it cost himto resume his task and stubbornly pulled his oar as the gig floated upthe creek with her gunwale near awash. His back hurt him almostunbearably when he lifted a heavy bag, and it was hard to keep upon hisfeet while he floundered through the mire. Sometimes his head reeled andhe could scarcely see. The blisters on his hands had worked intobleeding sores. This, however, did not matter much by comparison withthe pain in his head.
After the coal was landed they loaded loose ironwork and towed heavyspars ashore, and Walthew held out somehow until darkness fell, when hepaddled back to the _Enchantress_ with a swarm of mosquitos buzzinground his face.
He could not eat when they sat down to a frugal meal, and afterward layin his berth unable to sleep, and yet not quite awake, lost in confusedthoughts that broke off and left him conscious of intolerable heat andpain. When he went languidly on deck the next morning Grahame lookedhard at him.
"You had better lie down in the shade," he said.
"I may let up when we reach open water," Walthew answered with a feeblesmile. "There's not much enjoyment to be got out of a lay-off here."
Grahame reluctantly agreed. He knew something about malaria and Walthewdid not look fit for work; but every man was needed, and this foul swampwas no place to be ill. The sooner they got out the better.
Steam was up when the _Enchantress_ rose with the tide, and shortlyafterward the engines began to throb. Muddy foam leaped about thewhirling screw, flame mingled with the smoke that poured from herfunnel, and steam roared from the blow-off pipe. Then the clatter ofwinch and windlass joined in, and Grahame stood, tense and anxious,holding a rope that slipped round the spinning drum. The winch could notshorten it, though the vessel was shaking and working in her muddy bed.It was high-water, the tide would soon begin to fall, and the sweat ofsuspense and strain dripped from the man as, at the risk of breaking thewarp, he tightened the turns on the drum. It gripped; to his surprise, alittle slack came off, and he nodded to Walthew, who was watching himeagerly from the windlass.
"Give her all, if you burst the chain!" he cried.
The windlass clanked for a few moments, stopped, and clanked again; the_Enchantress_ trembled and crept a foot or two ahead. Then she stuckwhile the cable rose from the water, rigid as a bar, and themessenger-chain that drove the windlass creaked and strained at breakingtension. While Grahame expected to see links and gear-wheels fly, therewas a long shiver through the vessel's frame, a mad rattle of liberatedmachinery, and she leaped ahead.
Five minutes later Walthew walked shakily aft, sc
arcely seeing where hewent because a confused sense of triumph had brought a mist into hisdazzled eyes. This was the first big thing in which he had taken aleading part. He had made good and played the man; but there was stillmuch to be done and he pulled himself together as he stopped nearGrahame.
"She's moored where she won't ground again, but perhaps you had bettersee that the chain-compressors and warp fastenings are right."
"If you're satisfied, it's enough," said Grahame.
"Then I'll take the gig and get the coal on board."
"If you feel equal to it," Grahame answered.
Walthew got into the boat with a sense of elation. His eyes had metGrahame's while they spoke, and a pledge of mutual respect and trust hadpassed between them. But this was not quite all. He felt he had wonofficial recognition from a leader he admired; he was no longer on trialbut accepted as a comrade and equal. The thought sustained him through aday of murderous toil, during which his worn-out muscles needed constantspurring by the unconquered mind. It was not dainty and, in a sense, notheroic work in which he was engaged, but it must be done, and he dimlysaw that human nature rose highest in a grapple with obstacles thatseemed too great to overcome. Whatever the odds against him were, hemust not be beaten.
The heat was pitiless in the afternoon, but Walthew pulled his oar andcarried the hundred-pound coal bags across a stretch of mire that grewbroader as the tide ebbed. He could scarcely pull his feet out and keepthe load upon his aching back, and he sometimes sank knee-deep in thesofter spots. The air was heavy with exhalations from the swamps; he hadthrown off his jacket and the coal wore holes in his shirt and rubbedraw places on his skin. He was wet from the waist downward and blackabove, while the gritty dust filled his eyes and nostrils. Still he heldout until the work was finished, when the _Enchantress's_ cargo-lightbegan to twinkle through the dusk; and then, losing his balance, he fellforward into the boat with his last heavy load. Miguel pushed her off,and with oars splashing slackly she moved downstream. When she ranalongside the steamer, Grahame saw a limp, black figure lying huddled onthe floorings. The others lifted it gently, but Walthew did not speakwhen he was laid on deck, and Macallister, bending over him, looked upat Grahame.
"Fever and exhaustion! I allow that ye were right about the lad. But wemust do the best we can for him."
They washed off the coal-dust, and when Walthew, wrapped in thickblankets, lay unconscious in his berth, they debated earnestly over themedicine chest before administering a dose that experience in theunhealthy swamps of the tropics alone justified. They forced it, drop bydrop, between his clenched teeth, and then Macallister waited with agrimy finger on his pulse, while Grahame sat down limply on the edge ofthe berth. His hands were bruised, his thin clothes were torn, and hefelt the reaction after the day's strain. He had now an hour or two inwhich to rest, and then he must pull himself together to take the vesseldown the creek.
When at last Macallister nodded, as if satisfied, Grahame went wearilyup on deck. Except for a faint hiss of steam, everything was quiet.Tired men lay motionless about the deck, and the mist that clung to themangroves did not stir. After a while the lap of the flood-tide againstthe planks made itself heard, and the moon, which was getting large,rose above the trees.
Grahame, sitting limply on the grating, half dozing while he waited,suddenly jumped to his feet, startled. Out of the semi-darkness camedistinctly the splash of oars, faint at first and then nearer.
Miguel lay nearest him. The Spaniard, quickly grasping the danger,shook his men awake while Grahame ran below to Macallister.
"The government spies!" he said briefly. "Our pilot's turned traitor!"
The Coast of Adventure Page 9
