Bindloss Harold
Kit Musgrave's Luck

CHAPTER XII
THE RETREAT TO THE BOAT

At the bottom of the wady it was very hot, and Kit lay on the sand behind a rock. His smarting skin was crusted by salt, his clothes had dried stiff, and his muscles were sore. He had landed the guns, and it had not been easy to run the launch through the surf and hold her off the roaring beach while the boxes were brought ashore. The boat was half swamped, and the sailors laboured up to their waists in water.

After the cargo was landed, a few dark-skinned men arrived, and when they loaded the boxes on their camels a dispute began. Kit understood the Berbers declared the rifles were not the pattern they expected to get, and Wolf had not sent the number agreed. The leader, a very big, truculent fellow, had opened a box, and argued angrily with the interpreter. Simon was a Syrian, and since he owned that the Morocco he knew was the Mediterranean coast, Kit imagined he did not altogether understand the other's dialect. The Berber's dissatisfaction was obvious, and Kit agreed to go up the wady and meet the chief.

When he had gone two or three miles, the Berbers, stating that they would bring the chief, left two of their party and vanished with the loaded camels among the stones. Kit rather thought the two who stopped were meant for guards. They carried long guns and refused to talk to the interpreter. After waiting for some time, Kit began to get disturbed. Since he had left some men on board the launch, his party was not large and carried no weapons but their long Spanish knives. Moreover the yellow haze round the sun and the pillars of sand that span about the wady indicated a dust storm not far off. If the wind freshened much, the launch could not ride in the surf. Kit resolved he would not stop long, and lighting a cigarette began to ponder.

They had not seen the gunboat. It looked as if Revillon imagined Mossamedes had got away in the dark and was searching the coast for her. He would, no doubt, come back, but since the incriminating cargo was landed this was not important. Perhaps Revillon had come back. The sea was hidden by the hot, stony banks, and Kit was tired and languid; to climb to the parched table land was too much effort. He began to think about the rifles. So far, the tribesmen had brought the sheep and camels they had agreed to deliver; now it looked as if they thought they had been cheated. This was strange, but Kit remembered that none of his friends trusted Wolf. He must see the chief and if possible satisfy the fellow. All the same, he would not wait much longer. Don Erminio would get disturbed, and the wind was rising. If nobody arrived when his cigarette was smoked, he would start.

"They are sulky fellows," he said, indicating the Berbers.

"The Moors are very bad people," Miguel agreed. "When a baccalao schooner is wrecked on the coast one does not see the crew again. It is possible all are not drowned, but they vanish."

Kit looked at the Berbers and thought their quietness sinister. Their dark faces were inscrutable, and they did not move. One could hardly distinguish them from the stones.

"This time they bring no sheep or camels," Miguel resumed meaningly.

"It is strange," said Kit. "We have brought them rifles, but perhaps they have already paid for the lot."

"Some day they will get the rifles without payment," remarked Juan, the mate. "So long as they expect another lot, they are honest, but when they get all they want they will cut your throat. They will not cut mine; I have had enough. Señor Wolf is clever, but the game is dangerous. If he cheats, you will pay."

Kit looked at Simon, who knitted his brows. "I do not altogether understand, but they are angry. Something is not as they had thought."

The haze about the sun was thicker. Puffs of fiery wind blew down the wady, a whirling pillar of dust broke and fell near the group, and the distant rumble of the surf got loud. It was very hot and the men were languid, but a sailor pulled a knife with an ornamented handle from his sleeve and began to sharpen it on his belt. Kit's cigarette had burned to a stump, and he looked at his watch. Juan got up.

"Vamos! We start now," he said. "Señor Wolf knows much; he stops at Las Palmas and if his customers carry us off, it is our affair."

One of the Berbers began to talk in an angry voice but they set off, and to start was some relief to Kit. Standing for his employer, he felt himself accountable for his party, and he had waited long enough. In fact, he wondered whether he had not waited too long, since the rising surf might force the launch to return to the ship. Now he was going, he wanted to go fast, but for a time did not. He was tired, the heat was enervating, and the path was rough. Big stones lay about the dry river bed, and the gaps were filled by soft sand, in which one's feet sank. Besides, it was prudent to use control. The others were obviously disturbed, and he must make an effort for calm.

For all that, when the sand began to blow down the wady his speed got faster. The dust stuck to his hot skin and gathered on his eyelashes. He could not see properly and his breath was laboured, but when a sailor in front began to run he kept up. He frankly did not want to be left behind. Perhaps it was imagination, but he began to feel as if somebody followed him.

Turning his head, he looked about. He saw big stones and clumps of tamarisk, but this was all. The dust might hide the Berbers' camels, and a camel travels faster than a tired man. The strange thing was, although he had gone up the wady to meet the Berbers, he now wanted to reach the launch before they arrived. Kit admitted he was not logical, but to know the launch might have gone bothered him.

At length the wady got wider, and peering through the dust-cloud, he saw the sea. The launch had not gone and the lifeboat was coming from the steamer. Kit thought this strange, since the launch would carry all, but perhaps Don Erminio had sent to find out why they had not returned. The surf was high and a man on board the launch stood up and waved his arms, as if he signalled the party to be quick. Then the dust got very thick and boats and surf vanished. Juan shouted, but Kit did not hear what he said. They were all running as fast as possible, slipping and stumbling across the stones.

They reached the open beach and the dust rolled by. For a few moments the view was clearer and Kit saw the man on the launch was not waving to him; he signalled to the lifeboat. Looking back, Kit understood. Camels were coming down the wady. Then the dust rolled up again and he saw nothing.

Breathing hard, he laboured across the beach. The sailors had paid out cable and the launch, with her bows to the breakers, tossed about in the surf. In a few moments he would reach her, but somebody behind seized him. He staggered and tried to turn; and then a sailor swerved and jumped. Kit saw the Spanish knife shine and next moment he was free. He plunged into the water and the launch's stern struck the sand close by. A broken sea rolled in and men jumped overboard. They carried oars and knives, for the baccalao fishers' quarrel with the Moors is old. Kit seized the launch's tiller, a thick bar of African oak.

Men with darker skins than the Spaniards were in the water, but so far as Kit could see, they did not shoot. It looked as if they meant to capture the party. Kit, however, could not see much. Dust and sand rolled across the beach and the spray was thick. The launch was half swamped and he thought the Berbers would hold her until the surf beat in her bilge. Long oars and stretchers swung, Miguel used an iron anchor-stock, and the mate, crouched like a cat on the stern, thrust with his knife. Perhaps the struggle had gone on for a minute when the white lifeboat rode in on a comber's top. She swung to her anchor and Don Erminio jumped overboard. To come ashore was not the captain's business, but Don Erminio was a sportsman.

For the next few moments the struggle was savage, but Kit did not know much about it. He was knocked down and washed against the lifeboat. His head hurt, he could not get on his feet, and the surf rolled him up and down the beach. Then, when he was going out with the backwash, somebody dragged him on board, and while he lay in the water under the thwarts he was dully conscious that the boat was off the beach. He knew this because she lurched violently, but did not strike the sand. Spray blew about and the tops of the seas splashed across the gunwale. She made slow progress and Kit thought all the oars were not manned.

Crawling aft under the rowers' feet, he seized a thwart and pulled himself up. Don Erminio lay on the sternsheets and groaned. His face was very white and his leg was not its proper shape. The launch laboured across the combers some distance off. Kit pushed a man from the tiller and told him to row. His head ached, but he could steer.

They were long pulling off to Mossamedes, and then were forced to wait for some minutes. She rolled, lifting her bilge-keels out of the water, and one must watch for a chance to hook on the tackles. At length a broken sea, smaller than the others, lifted the boat and Kit seized the swinging hook. The bowman was quick and got the other hook, a winch rattled, and the big boat went up. She struck the steamer's plates, but did not stop, and in a few moments the swivelling davits dropped her on the skids. Macallister and a steward lifted out the captain, and Kit went aft to see the launch hove up. Then he went to his room and for a time knew nothing more.

He was roused by Macallister's bathing his face, and gave him a dull look.

"I'm thinking ye'll no be very bonny for a week or two," the engineer remarked. "For a' that, ye're luckier than the captain."

"Is Don Erminio hurt?" Kit asked.

"His legs and some ribs are broken; maybe he was washed aneath the launch. But yon's no a'. When the boats came off Juan and Miguel were not on board."

Kit lifted himself awkwardly and leaned against the back of his bunk. His head ached horribly and his brain was dull, but he felt the throb of engines and heard water flow along the plates. Mossamedes was steaming hard and he must get up. He got his leg across the ledge, and then Macallister pushed him firmly back.

"Ye'll bide! Felix and I have work enough wi' the captain and two or three mair."

"But you must stop her. I'm going back for Miguel."

"Ye cannot go back. I dinna ken how we won out."

"Ah!" said Kit, who felt the steamer's regular rise and fall. "She has crossed the shoals?"

"It looks like that. When I stopped to use the big lead, we got good water."

"But who took her out? Miguel's not on board."

"Sometimes ye must trust your luck," Macallister replied. "Before the lifeboat went away Don Erminio hove the cable short, and when ye brought him off, unconscious, I broke the anchor out. There's no' a sound plank in the launch, the lifeboat's sternpost's smashed, and the sea was getting up. If Juan and Miguel are living, the Moors have carried them off. Weel, since the second mate is damaged, I reckoned my job was to get back to Grand Canary. I sent Salvador to the wheel, started the mill, and let her gang."

"You went across blind?" Kit exclaimed with dull surprise.

"Just that! She hit the bottom, but came off and we got no extra water in the wells."

The thing looked impossible; Kit had thought nobody but Miguel could steer Mossamedes across the shoals. For all that, her even movements indicated that she had reached open sea, and Kit tried to brace himself.

"But if the captain and second mate are knocked out, we haven't a navigator, and Grand Canary's small."

"Ye have a good engineer and a crew o' baccalao fishermen," Macallister rejoined. "I alloo Grand Canary's small, but it's high, and ye can see the Peak o' Teneriffe over a hundred miles. Weel, I ken where we started and put over the patent log. When ye steer for an archipelago ye needna bother about a few degrees."

Kit nodded. Six high volcanic islands rise from deep water, and Mossamedes' crew had manned the fishing schooners. On a short voyage one could navigate by dead-reckoning.

"I'll away and look at the captain," Macallister resumed. "If ye'll no promise to lie quiate until I let ye up, I'll lock ye in."

Kit promised, because he doubted if he could get out of his bunk, and when Macallister had gone he turned awkwardly and looked at the glass on the wall. A purple mark crossed his swollen forehead, and his jaw was cut. Somebody had knocked him down with a gun, or perhaps he had got under the plunging boat. All his body felt battered. For a few minutes he leaned against the side of his bunk, and then slipped back and went to sleep.

PART III
KIT FINDS HIS LEVEL

CHAPTER I
ILLUMINATION

Mossamedes steamed into Las Palmas harbour one evening, and as soon as she was moored Kit landed Don Erminio and filed the necessary documents at the Commandancia offices. He, however, said nothing about the struggle on the beach, and accounted for the captain's injuries by stating that he was washed under the boat. The sailors' hurts were not serious, and Kit had not allowed the port doctor to see the men. His visit was an embarrassment, but on the whole Kit and Macallister thought they had not excited his curiosity.

While he lay in his bunk Kit had pondered and made his plans. He meant to return and look for the mate and Miguel, but if the Spanish officers knew, he was persuaded they would not let him go. They would, no doubt, make exhaustive inquiries and reports, and then send a properly organised search party. Speed, however, was important, and anything undertaken by the Spanish Government was not done soon.

Although it cost him some effort, he went from the Commandancia to the mate's house and told his story to a startled woman with a powdered face. When Señora Diaz was calm she asked Kit what he was going to do about it, and he said: "In the morning I sail for Africa. I do not think Juan is hurt; the Moors wanted prisoners to hold until they get satisfaction. You must not be afraid. Somehow we will find him."

Señora Diaz was comforted. Kit was young, but he looked very resolute and capable. Something in his quiet voice gave her confidence.

"Vaya con Dios!" she said and let him go.

Kit felt the señora had not used conventionally the polite good-bye; anyhow he had not given her an empty promise. He was going to find her husband, and Wolf was going to help. If it were necessary, Kit meant to force him, for he had noted that Cayman was in the harbour ready for sea. Wolf must charter her in the next hour or two, and she must sail before the Commandante knew about the fight on the beach. Responsibility had developed Kit and brought into action qualities he had not altogether known were his. He could front a crisis and saw he must front one now. Cayman was in port, and with the fresh Trade-breeze abeam, would soon reach the wady. A few resolute men might find and make some bargain with the Moors, but if a gunboat landed a strong party the tribe would vanish in the desert.

After the lonely anchorage and desolate surf-beaten coast, the noise and traffic in the streets were strange. Bright lights burned in the shops, people crowded the pavements, enjoying the cool of the evening, and Kit heard the band in the alameda. He felt he had nothing to do with the careless loungers, and their cheerful voices jarred. His load was heavy and he was highly strung.

To reach the quiet street where Wolf lived was some relief, but Kit went slowly, trying to think. He had taken Yusuf's selling them to Revillon for granted, but he doubted if this were all. Kit was satisfied Wolf had not carried out his engagements with the Moors, and since the fellow had cheated his customers he would not hesitate to betray his servants. He had used them unscrupulously, and now two might be forced to pay for his dishonesty, he must send them help.

For a few minutes Kit mused about something else. Mrs. Austin had got him the post, and it looked as if she knew Wolf was a cheat. Anyhow, Olivia knew, and she was not as clever as her sister. After he had seen Wolf, he was going to see Mrs. Austin. If there was any difficulty about Wolf's chartering Cayman, she must persuade her husband. Austin was Jefferson's partner and owned some shares in the boat.

Kit stopped at the arch that led to Wolf's patio. All was dark inside and the iron gate was fast. He rang a bell and a man crossed the flags and pulled back the heavy bolt. His face was near the bars, and Kit noted with some surprise that it was not Wolf's servant.

"What does your honor want?" he asked.

Kit said he wanted Wolf and would go to the office, but the other did not open the gate.

"Señor Wolf is not here."

"Not here! Then, where is he?" said Kit, with an effort for calm.

The other spread out his hands. "Quien sabe? Many are curious, but nobody knows. The señor went some days since. I am the landlord's servant and take care of the house."

"Ah!" said Kit sharply. "Did he leave a letter for his sobrecargo?"

"He left nothing, señor. The boxes in the office were empty. There was a heap of ashes, as if somebody had burned papers, but this was all."

Kit thanked the man and went off. He knew enough. Wolf was gone and one saw what his going meant. Numerous steamers touched at Las Palmas and the fellow had, no doubt, quietly got on board. Since he could buy his ticket from the purser, there was no use in inquiring at the steamship offices. Well, Kit must see Mrs. Austin.

The shortest way to the house was across the alameda. The band was playing, lamps burned among the dusty trees, and as Kit approached a group of people he stopped. Olivia talked to a Spanish lady, the lady's husband, two or three young Spanish girls, and some coaling clerks stood about, but when Olivia saw Kit she left the others. Going with him to a bench at a quiet spot not far off, she sat down. Kit leaned against a tree and a beam from a lamp touched his face. Olivia noted the dark bruise and the hardness of his mouth. He looked very tired and his eyes were dull.

"Why, Kit! What is the matter?" she said.

"I expect you know Wolf is gone?"

"Yes, I do know. But what does it mean?"

"For one thing, it means Wolf's a thief and I'm a trustful fool. In the meantime, perhaps, that's enough – "

"I wouldn't bother about it," said Olivia soothingly. "You look ill and you have hurt your head."

"I must bother," Kit rejoined. "I was Wolf's servant and have lost two of his men. Since I stood for their employer, in a sense the men were mine. The Moors have got them. Wolf cheated the fellows, they followed us to the boats, and there was a fight. I got on board, but all the men who'd gone with me did not. I was their leader; I ought to have gone off last."

Olivia was moved by his distress and put her hand gently on his arm.

"Oh, Kit, I'm sorry! But you're not accountable. If it had been possible to save the men you would have brought them off."

Her sympathy thrilled him. He was highly strung, and although he tried for control he was carried away.

"The voyage was disastrous; all went wrong from the start," he said. "You warned me and talked about bad luck, but I went. Perhaps I'm obstinate, but I think you knew why I did go."

Olivia turned her head and thought. She had known why he went, but it was plain the reserve he had used was gone. His control was broken and he would be frank. She liked him, but now he forced her to choose her line, she admitted this was all.

"I think you were rather ridiculous," she said, quietly looking up.

He tried to pull himself together, but could not. He had got a nasty knock.

"It looks like that!" he said in a hoarse voice. "All the same, you knew my ambition and didn't hint I was ridiculous!"

The blood came to Olivia's skin and her eyes sparkled.

To some extent she felt Kit's retort was justified, but she was modern and had pluck.

"I thought you lonely and we were pals," she said. "Did you expect me to warn you I didn't want a lover?"

"If you had warned me it would not have cost you much. Perhaps I am dull, but sometimes I do understand. I thought I might, like Austin, mend my fortune; he held my post and married your sister. You knew, and I expect you were amused. The thing was a joke! Well, sometimes I saw I was a fool, but I wasn't logical long. When you're about one isn't logical. I meant to mend my fortune."

"Are you logical now?"

Kit laughed harshly. "Oh, yes; my rashness is plain enough! You had long since resolved to refuse me all I hadn't the pluck to ask. Well, my luck is certainly not good. I have been refused before and in the meantime – "

She stopped him by a proud gesture. "You are breaking rules, Kit, and mustn't talk like this again. When you are cool you will know you ought not. What have your love affairs to do with me?"

He gave her a steady look and his face got rather white. The dark bruise was plainer and the blood left his lips.

"My rules are the rules of the humble folk to whom I belong. All the same, I might have tried to use yours had I been my proper self. Well, perhaps I deserve some punishment. I'm poor and have no talent to help me along; I let Wolf use and cheat me like a schoolboy. Then, when I met you a few minutes since, I forgot about the men I'd lost. However, I'm going back to look for them and if I find them and some time get a proper job, we'll talk about my rashness again. I'll go to Don Pancho and state I mean to ask you to marry me. You'll no doubt refuse, but my proposal will be regular, and to refuse an offer I've some right to make won't humiliate you."

Olivia thought fatigue and strain accounted for much. He had got a bad knock, and she had hurt him worse. She was half sorry and half angry, but her anger was keenest against Mrs. Austin, who had sent him on board the ship.

"You are ridiculous, Kit," she said gently. "But if you are in trouble about Wolf and the men in Morocco, go to Jacinta. I think she ought to help. That's all. You mustn't keep me. The others are curious."

She rejoined the party at the band and Kit went on to Mrs. Austin's. He agreed with Olivia, but did not stop where she stopped. Mrs. Austin was going to help. When he reached the veranda she was talking to Mrs. Jefferson, and nobody else was about. Kit remembered this was an evening on which she did not receive guests. She glanced at him with some surprise, noting his bruised face and disturbed look, and then indicated a chair.

"I don't know that you'll urge me to stop when you have heard my tale," he said. "However, is Mr. Austin or Mr. Jefferson at home?"

"Harry is at Teneriffe, and Jefferson has gone to Madeira."

"Then my luck is bad again," said Kit. "All the same, I've come to ask for something and meant to state that I expected your support. I meant to see you anyhow."

Mrs. Austin was surprised, but said nothing. Kit had not talked to her like this before. He was cool and very stern. Somehow he looked older and she wondered about the bruise.

"Very well," he resumed. "I met Miss Brown at the alameda and understand you know Wolf is gone. I did not know until I arrived, but begin to see light. It's possible his going did not surprise you. You knew he was a rogue!"

"You are taking much for granted," Mrs. Austin remarked quietly.

"Not at all," said Kit. "Your sister knew and warned me. People declare you're the cleverest woman at Las Palmas."

Mrs. Austin pondered. If Olivia had warned Kit, it was possible the girl herself did not know as much as her elder sister had thought. About Betty, for example.

"Well?" she said.

"I'll tell you my story," Kit replied, and narrated his adventures after landing the guns.

"I begin to see," Mrs. Austin remarked. Then, for her line of argument was sometimes not very obvious, she resumed: "You met Olivia not long since by the band?"

"That is so," Kit replied with some dryness. "All the same, you have no grounds to be disturbed; Miss Brown knows my drawbacks. In fact, when you persuaded Wolf to give me the post your meddling wasn't necessary. But you did get me the post, although you doubted Wolf. This is important!"

At Las Palmas Mrs. Austin was a great lady, and Kit had gratefully owned his debt to her. Now he took another line; a line that nobody she knew durst use. For all that she was sorry for Kit. He looked ill and worn; she saw that losing the men weighed hard on him.

"Suppose I admit I sent you to Wolf?" she said. "You feel you are entitled to blame me because your adventure was not fortunate?"

"Not at all; my object's not to blame you," said Kit. "When I took the post I thought you kind. To find out that all you wanted was to get me away from Las Palmas hurt. However, we won't bother about this – "

He paused. Mrs. Austin's calm was beginning to embarrass him. In fact, there was something very dignified about her quietness, although she admitted that her plotting had cost him much. Kit, however, braced himself.

"I meant to see you before I saw Mr. Austin," he resumed. "I'm going back for the men and must get a boat at once. If the Commandante knew I was going he wouldn't let me sail, and he will know soon. Cayman's ready for sea and you must lend me her."

Mrs. Austin smiled. "I don't think your argument is altogether sound. Cayman belongs to my husband and Jefferson and they are away."

"All that's Mr. Austin's is yours, and Mrs. Jefferson is here."

"I imagine I can promise for my husband," Mrs. Jefferson remarked.

"Very well," said Mrs. Austin. "You may have the boat. I will give you a letter for the captain."

She went off, and Mrs. Jefferson turned to Kit. "Have you seen Betty?"

Kit started. He had forgotten Betty; he was again a fool. She would understand his troubles and would sympathise. He was persuaded she would agree he ought to go.

"I'd like to see her, but I cannot," he said. "We must sail at daybreak, and I have much to do. All I can think about is getting back to Africa. But, if you will tell her why I didn't go to the office – "

Mrs. Jefferson smiled. Betty had qualities, but Mrs. Jefferson doubted if she would approve Kit's sending another to tell his tale. She said nothing, and Mrs. Austin presently returned and gave Kit an envelope.

"This is an order for the captain. Your adventure's rash, and I really ought not to agree," she said. "For all that, I wish you luck!"

Kit thanked her and when he went down the steps Mrs. Austin looked at Mrs. Jefferson.

"If he wrecks Cayman or the crew get hurt I shall have some trouble with Harry. Sometimes he is firmer than people think."

Mrs. Jefferson smiled. "On the whole I imagine Jake will approve. Perhaps Kit was rude, but in a way he was rather fine. He won't wreck the boat, and I expect he will get the men. Kit is good stuff. However, I suppose you're satisfied you were entitled to meddle?"

"About Olivia? Yes, so far as that goes, my plan was good. My father was a steamship steward and began business at Las Palmas by selling tobacco on board the ships. All the same, Kit Musgrave is not Olivia's sort. If she doesn't know this now, he and she would soon find it out. Well, I'm going to be firm."

"I doubt if firmness is indicated," Mrs. Jefferson rejoined with a twinkle. "Sometimes the best plan is to leave things alone."