CHAPTER XXVI
TRAPPED
For a few minutes the men toiled silently across loose, wet sand, andthen, on reaching a belt of shingle near high-water mark, stopped tolook about. Lights gleamed in the town across the bay, but except forthat it was very dark. A clump of trees that fringed the end of a ridgeof higher ground could barely be distinguished, but Grahame decided thatthis must be the spot Evelyn had mentioned in her note. Though theshingle rolled beneath his feet, the sound it made was lost in the roarof the surf upon the point. Dry sand blew past, pricking his face, andwhen he turned toward the sea he saw a group of indistinct objects stillstanding about the boat.
"What are they waiting for?" he asked. "I told them to push off."
"I guess old Miguel takes an interest in us and wants to see we're allright. He knows something about these fellows' tricks, and may not shareour confidence."
"Well, I guess those are the trees where we should meet our guide."
"The fellow might have come down to the beach," Walthew remarked. "I wasbusy helping Mack during the run and hadn't much time to think, but itnow strikes me as curious that Miss Cliffe was able to send the note andarrange for a guide when she was a prisoner."
"She must have got into touch with some of Don Martin's spies, and hisfriends would be ready to help. But we had better get on."
They crossed the shingle, seeing nothing that suggested there wasanybody about, but Walthew grew uneasy as they approached the trees. Thebelt of timber was wrapped in gloom, and rolled back up the risingground in shadowy masses that rustled in the wind. It had somehow aforbidding look, and the nearer he got the less he liked it. He was notdaunted, and meant to go on, but his nerves were highly strung and hisglances suspicious as he tried to pierce the dark.
They found a trail through tall grass and reeds, and followed it acrossa patch of boggy soil until it led them to an opening in the trees. Herea shadowy object rose out of the gloom, and Walthew instinctively feltfor his pistol. The abrupt movement dislodged a small bundle of clotheswhich he carried by a strap across his shoulder, and it fell to theground. Then he saw the man come forward, waving his hand.
"This way, senor!" he called to Grahame, who was some yards in front.
Walthew felt tempted to leave the bundle. He wanted to watch the man;but there was a packet of cartridges among the clothes he had dropped,and he thought they might prove useful. Stooping down, he felt among thegrass, but had to move once or twice before he found the bundle; then,springing to his feet, he saw that Grahame and the other had vanished.The next moment his comrade's voice reached him, hoarse and breathless:
"Run!"
That Grahame said nothing more was ominous; but Walthew did not run backto the boat. Drawing his pistol, he plunged in among the trees, but ashe reached them he felt a stunning blow on his head. He staggered andfell into a thicket, blinded by blood that ran into his eyes. A struggleseemed to be going on near by, and, getting upon his knees, he fired atrandom. He thought a man ran toward him, and he fired again, but hismind was confused and he could hardly see. For all that, he got upon hisfeet and stumbled forward, dazed but determined to rescue his comrade.
A few moments afterward it dawned on him that he was going the wrongway, for he seemed to have come out on the beach. Two or three men werehurrying toward him, but the pistol would not go off. Stumbling on withhis hand clenched on the barrel, ready to use the butt, he tripped andfell among the rattling shingle. Then his senses left him.
The next thing of which he was conscious was a cool splash on his face,and while he wondered what it was, he felt that he lay upon somethingthat moved in an erratic manner. It was not shingle, for it was smoothwhen he touched it, but a minute or two passed before he realized thathe was lying in the sternsheets of the gig. She was plunging sharply,the spray flew aft in showers, and when he wiped his eyes he saw thatthe men were pulling hard. With some trouble he got to his knees, andthe top of a wave that washed across the gunwale struck his face.
"Where is the senor Grahame?" he asked faintly.
"Who knows!" somebody answered. "It seems the _rurales_ have him. Wecame too late."
Walthew groaned, for his head was getting clearer. His comrade hadfallen into a trap.
"Pull her round," he said. "We're going back!"
For a moment or two nobody replied. The gig lurched wildly, and asea-top broke on board. Walthew dimly saw the men swing to and fro atthe oars. Their blurred figures cut the sky as the bow went up, and thenstood out against white foam as the craft plunged into a hollow.
"It is not possible, senor," Miguel said breathlessly.
Walthew scrambled to his feet, and stood swaying awkwardly with theviolent motion, in danger of going overboard. The sea had got worse, andthe savage wind lashed his wet face. It was blowing very hard, and theturn of the tide had brought broken water nearer inshore; he could hearthe roar of the surf upon the beach. It would now be dangerous to land;but he must try to rescue his comrade. He seized the oar the man nearestto him pulled. The fellow pushed him back and, losing his balance as theboat plunged over a comber, he fell heavily upon the floorings.
"We will smash the boat if we land, and there are _rurales_ on thebeach," he heard Miguel say. "The sea is bad; perhaps we cannot reachthe steamer."
Walthew realized that Miguel was right. The men were unarmed, except fortheir knives, and something had gone wrong with his pistol. Even if theyescaped being swamped by the surf, it would be impossible to cross thebeach in face of a hostile force. He lay still with a groan. He feltfaint, his head ached excruciatingly, and blood still trickled into hiseyes. He had not seen the _Enchantress_ when he stood up, and thedesperate way the men were rowing showed that they found it hard todrive the boat offshore.
After a while, however, a hail came out of the dark, the men pulledfuriously, and then threw down their oars. There was a crash and a ropefell into the boat, which surged violently forward, grinding against thesteamer's side. Walthew did not know how he got on board, and heimagined that he fainted soon afterward, for the next thing heremembered was trying to get up from the top grating in the engine-room,where Macallister sat beside him, holding a rag and a can of hot water.
"Keep still while I tie up the cut," he said.
"But they've got Grahame!" Walthew exclaimed, trying to rise.
Macallister gently pushed him back.
"I ken. A bad job, but we might have lost ye both." Then he took up apiece of linen. "It's lucky ye'll no' need stitching, but maybe thiswill nip."
Walthew's head smarted intolerably after the bandage was applied, butthe dazed feeling left him when Macallister gave him something to drink,and he began to ask questions.
"Miguel heard a shot and ran back up the beach with the others,"Macallister told him. "They found ye reeling aboot and brought ye downto the gig, with two or three _rurales_ no' far behind; the rest musthave gone off with Grahame before our men came up. They had just timeto launch her before the _rurales_ began to shoot, but nobody was hit.Looks as if ye had been knocked oot with a carbine butt."
"Where are we now?" Walthew asked.
"Steaming back to the lagoon as fast as I can drive her, and that'saboot four knots against the gale. The best thing we can do is to sendDon Martin word, but ye'll go to sleep in the meanwhile. I canna' lookafter ye; I hae my hands full."
The clanging of hard-driven engines, which quickened to a furious rattlewhen the screw swung out, made the need for watchfulness plain, andWalthew crept away to his berth. He wanted to help, but knew that toattempt this would probably result in his falling among the machinery.Dazed by the blow on his head, he soon fell asleep, and when he wakenedthe vessel was at rest. There was no pounding of engines, and the waterno longer gurgled along her side, but he heard voices behind thebulkhead.
Scrambling awkwardly out of the berth, he made his way on deck with somedifficulty. The fresh air revived him, and he saw that the _Enchantress_was anchored in the lagoon, but he opened a door close by instead
ofstopping to look about. Two or three of the revolutionaries whom he knewwere sitting round a table in the saloon, and as Walthew came in,white-faced, with staring eyes and a red bandage round his head, one ofthem threw up his hands.
"_Ave Maria!_" he exclaimed.
Walthew sat down with a jerk and nodded to Macallister.
"I'm better."
Then he turned to the others.
"What are we going to do?"
"Nothing, until to-night," said one. "We must wait for dark before it issafe to move. They will not keep your comrade at Valverde, and we musttry to find out where they have taken him."
"I'll be quite well in a few hours," Walthew declared. "But what islikely to happen to Grahame?"
The man shrugged.
"Who knows! The regular course would be to try him for smuggling arms,but I do not think the President will follow that plan. They may sendhim to Rio Frio, because it is some distance from the coast, and it ispossible he will be given a chance of escaping on the way."
"Do you mean that they may let him go?" Walthew asked eagerly.
"He would not go very far. You must understand that the _rurales_ haveauthority to shoot a prisoner who tries to escape, and the Governmentfinds this useful. Sometimes they arrest a man whom they think the courtcould not convict, and an excuse is found for not watching him veryclosely when he is being taken to the nearest jail; perhaps a guard iscalled away when they stop for food. There is cover near, and theprisoner makes a dash for freedom; then the guard, who has been hiding,fires and the administration is rid of an enemy. Sometimes the _rurales_break into the house of an obnoxious person and, taken by surprise, hegets angry. A threatening movement is enough; he is shot down. It issimpler than taking him before a judge who may be bribed to let him go."
"A gang o' bloodthirsty scoundrels! I'm thinking it's time ye turned onthem," Macallister said, while Walthew sat silent with a tense face andfury in his eyes. "But, so far as we ken, they havena' shot Mr.Grahame."
"No, senor," said another. "I think he is safe, for a time. He mightprove too useful for them to shoot, at least, not until they have triedother means."
"If ye believe they can frighten or buy him----" Macallister begansavagely; but the man waved his hand.
"Senor, I only think we must set him free as soon as possible, and youwill agree about the need for that."
"I'm coming with you," said Walthew grimly. "If I'm not satisfied withyour plans, I'll do the thing in my own way."
Macallister gave him a sharp glance. Walthew did not look fit to travel,but Macallister knew that objections would be futile. The boy had grownolder and sterner in a night.
The revolutionaries began to talk about what had better be done, and itwas decided that Macallister must remain in charge of the vessel, whichhe would hide in a creek, so as to provide a means of escape, if thisshould be needed. The others would start for Rio Frio as soon as it wasdark and, if they could gather a strong enough force, try to overtakeand attack Grahame's escort on the march. Failing this, they wouldfollow the _rurales_ to Rio Frio, and be guided by circumstances whenthey got there. Walthew took no part in the discussion, but when it wasfinished he got up and stood looking at the others sternly.
"We are going to save my partner, and not to do something that may helpyou in your political schemes," he said. "It may save trouble if youbear this in mind."
They assured him that Grahame's rescue was a matter of importance tothem; and when, shortly afterward they left the ship, Walthew went tohis berth and slept until the afternoon. He was getting better, for itwas not the cut but the jar on his skull that had dazed him, and theeffect of this was passing.
When the evening mist began to creep across the lagoon a canoe came offand a half-breed stood up in her as she approached the gangway.
"The senores are waiting," he announced.
Walthew shook hands with Macallister.
"I'll either bring him back or stop with him," he said grimly. "Yourbusiness is to be ready to take us off."
"Good luck to ye!" returned Macallister in a rather hoarse voice. "Ifye're long aboot it, I'll come after ye myself!"
When Walthew got into the canoe and vanished in the haze, Macallisterwent down to his engine-room and fiercely set about some work that mightas well have been left undone.
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