CHAPTER XXIV
AUSTIN FINDS A CLUE
The grey light was growing clearer, and the mangroves taking shape amongthe fleecy mist, when Austin stood looking down upon the creek in theheavy, windless morning. There was no brightness in the dingy sky, whichhung low above the mastheads, but the water gleamed curiously, and nolonger lapped along the steamer's rusty plates. It lay still beneath herhove-up bilge, giving up a hot, sour smell, and Jefferson, who came outof the skipper's room, touched Austin as he gazed at it.
"The stream should have been setting down by now. Something's backing upthe ebb," he said. "A shift of wind along the shore, most likely. Therain's coming!"
Austin glanced up at the lowering heavens, but there was no change intheir uniform greyness, and no drift of cloud. The smoke of thelocomotive boiler went straight up, and the mist hung motionless amongthe trees ashore. Still, there was something oppressive and portentousin the stillness, and his skin was tingling.
"If it doesn't come soon we'll not have a man left," he said. "It isn'tin flesh and blood to stand this much longer."
"Then," said Jefferson drily, "the sooner we get to work the better.There's a good deal to do, and you're not going to feel it quite so muchonce you get hold of the spanner."
The pump had just stopped, and Tom came towards them, rubbing his greasyhands with a cotton rag, as they moved in the direction of the engineroom. The lower part of it was dripping when they went down, and a footor two of water still lay upon the floor-plates where they met thedepressed side, but it was evident that another hour's work of the bigpump would leave the place almost dry. Austin sat down on a tool-lockerlid, with Jefferson standing beside him, but Tom floundered away towardsthe stoke-hold, and they could hear him splashing in the water. When hereappeared with a blinking lamp he crawled up the slippery ladder asthough working out a clue, while it was several minutes before he cameback and leaned against a column opposite Jefferson with the look of aman who had not found quite what he had expected.
"Sea-cocks shut!" he said. "Ballast tank full-way cock is screwed up,too. Of course, they could have closed that with the overheadscrew-gear. You'll remember that manhole cover was off the forwardsection."
Jefferson glanced at Austin, though it was Tom he spoke to. "Did youexpect to find them open?"
"Well," said the donkey-man, "to be quite straight, I did."
"I wonder why?"
Tom glanced at him with a little suggestive grin. "She has two platesstarted, but with the boiler blowing away half her steam we haven't veryhard work to run all that came in that way down, and her bilge pumpwould have kept her clear. What I want to know is, what all that waterwas doing in her?"
"Ah," said Jefferson, "you must ask another. I guess nobody's going tofind the full answer to that conundrum. There are only two or three menwho could have told us, and we're not going to have an opportunity ofworrying them about it, unless we get the fever, too."
"Well," said Tom, "the mill's looking good, but it's about time we madea start on her and got the cylinder covers off and hove the pistons up.It's quite likely we'll want to spring new rings on them. There shouldbe some of the spanners in that locker, Mr. Austin."
Austin rose and lifted the lid, while Tom held the lamp, but the firstthing he saw was a sodden book. He drew it out, dripping, and opened it;but while a good many of the pulpy pages had fallen out, there wereenough left to show that it was one of the little tables of strengthsand weight of materials an engineer often carries about with him. Therewas a rather wide margin round the tabulated figures, and as he vacantlypulled out one of the wet pages he noticed a little close pencil writingupon a part of it.
"Hold that light nearer, Tom. Here's something that looks interesting,"he said. "'Buried Jackson this morning--memo hand his share over to MaryNichol.'"
He signed Tom to move the light again. "There follows an obliteratedaddress, and the words, 'scarcely think she'll ever get it. My leftarm's almost rotten now.'"
He stopped again a moment, and his face had grown hard when he went on:"You see, the thing--is--contagious, and that devil Funnel-paint, orsomebody, has played the same trick before. I wonder if the man whowrote this looked quite as bad as the nigger did."
"Hold on!" said Jefferson sharply. "I guess none of us have any use forthat kind of talking, and you swilled yourself with permanganate, anyway."
"The result will probably be the same, whether one thinks of it or not.You will, however, notice that the man's name was Jackson, and thewoman's Mary Nicol."
It was evident that this was a forced attempt to break away from thesubject, and though Tom grinned, it was in a sickly fashion.
"That's no how astonishing. She was the last," he said. "Hadn't youbetter turn over, and see if there's any more of it?"
Austin contrived to lift another of the pulpy pages, and once more theclose writing appeared, but it was difficult to make out, and theirfaces were close together when Tom lowered the lamp. They showedcuriously grave, as well as hollow, in the smoky light, for there wasreason for believing that the man who had made those notes was dead, andit was clear that the horrible thing which had stricken him might alsocome upon them.
"The last of the bags buried this afternoon," Austin read. "Watson tooka new bearing. W. half N. to the cottonwood, with twist of creek inline. Forty paces--he made it thirty-nine. Graham says one packet leftin the old place where the niggers got scent of it, and the quills onthe second islet; memo, it makes AL50 to me."
He dropped the book, and Tom came near letting go the lamp, while for amoment or two afterwards they stared at one another. Austin wasquivering a little, but Jefferson made a restraining gesture as he laida hand upon his shoulder.
"Steady! I guess we've got the clue," he said. "There are two islets twoor three leagues back down the creek. You passed them coming up. Still,what do they put up in quills?"
"Gold-dust! The niggers bring it down from the Western Soudan, and Ibelieve they're ostrich quills. One of the trader fellows told me a gooddeal about them over a dinner at the Metropole. A bushman had once stuckhim with a lot of brass filings. Are you going down to look for them?"
Jefferson, it was evident from his face, laid a strong restraint uponhimself.
"No," he said, with curious quietness. "Funnel-paint knows nothing aboutthese islets yet, or he wouldn't have come to you, and it's my firstbusiness to heave this steamer off. To do it we'll want her engines, andthere's a heavy job in front of us before we start them. The rains won'twait for any man."
He broke off, for a glare of blue light fell through the open framesabove and flooded the engine room. It flickered on rusty columns anddripping, discoloured steel, and vanished, leaving grey shadow behindit, amidst which the smoky lamplight showed feeble and pale. Then therewas a crash that left them dazed and deafened, and in another moment wasfollowed by a dull crescendo roar, while a splashing trickle ran downinto the engine room. The glass frames quivered under the deluge, andone could almost have fancied that the heavens had opened. Jeffersonwhirled round and gripped the donkey-man's arm, shaking him as he stoodblinking about him in a bewildered fashion.
"If you tell any of the rest what you have heard, I'll fling you intothe creek! And now up with you, and bring every man who is fit to work.There's no time to lose," he said.
Tom made for the ladder, and Austin, who went with him, carrying thebook, was drenched before he reached the skipper's room. The air wasfilled with falling water that came down in rods, and blotted out themangroves a dozen yards away. Steam rose from the sluicing deck, thecreek boiled beneath the deluge, but there was no longer any trace ofthe insufferable tension, and he stood a moment or two relaxing underthe rush of lukewarm water that beat his thin clothing flat against hisskin. Then he splashed forward to the forecastle, where Tom had littledifficulty in rousing the men. They crawled out, gaunt and haggard, infilthy rags, some of them apparently scarcely fit to stand, for the rainhad come, and every inch the water rose would bring them so much near
erhome. There was no need to urge them when they floundered into theengine room, and hour after hour they strained and sweated on bigspanner and chain-tackle willingly, while the big cylinder-heads andpistons were hauled up to the beams. The one thought which animated themwas that the engines would be wanted soon.
It mattered little that platform-grating and slippery floor-platesslanted sharply under them, and each ponderous mass they loosened mustbe held in with guy and preventer lest it should swing wildly intovertical equilibrium. That was only one more difficulty, and they hadalready beaten down so many. So day after day they worked on slopingplatforms, slipping with naked feet, and only grinned when Tom flungfoul epithets, and now and then a hammer, at one of them. Much of whathe said was incomprehensible, and, in any case, he was lord supreme ofthe machinery; and Bill, whose speech was also vitriolic, acted as hisworking deputy. The latter had served as greaser in another steamer, andfor the time being even Jefferson deferred to him.
They stripped her until the big cylinders stood naked on their columns,and the engine room resembled the erecting shop of a foundry, and thenthe work grew harder when the reassembling began. Since the skeletonengines slanted, nothing would hang or lower as they wanted it, and theytoiled with wedge and lever in semi-darkness by the blinking gleam oflamps, while the rain that shut the light out roared upon the shut-downframes above. It was very hot down in the engine room, and when a smallforge was lighted to expand joints they could not spring apart, and toburn off saponified grease, men with less at stake would probably havefancied themselves suffocated. Still, each massive piece was cleaned andpolished, keyed home, or bolted fast, and, when the hardest work wasover, the slope of the platforms lessened little by little as the_Cumbria_ rose upright. It was evident to all of them that the water wasrising in the creek.
In a month her deck was almost leveled, but the muddy flood that gurgledabout her still lay beneath her corroded water line, and Jeffersonseized the opportunity of laying out an anchor to heave on before thestream ran too strong. The launch's boiler had given out, and theylashed her to the surfboat, with the hatch covers as a bracing between,but they spent an afternoon over it before Jefferson was satisfied, andthe thick, steamy night was closing in when they warped the double craftunder the _Cumbria_'s forecastle. It rose above them blackly, with ablaze of flickering radiance over it where the blast-lamp hurled a shaftof fire upwards into the rain. Floundering figures cut against theuncertain brilliancy, voices came down muffled through the deluge, andthere was a creaking and groaning as the ponderous stream anchor swungout overhead.
Austin stood, half naked, on the platform between launch and surfboat,with the water sluicing from him, and though he had toiled since earlydawn, he was sensible only of a feverish impatience, and no weariness atall. He had had enough of the dark land, and what they were about to dowas to ensure a start on the journey that would take them out of it. Itgrew rapidly darker, the long hull faded, and the flare of the lampalone cut, a sheet of orange and saffron, against the blackness abovethem. Jefferson's voice fell through it sharply.
"Stand by!" he said. "We'll ease her down!"
There was a fresh groaning and creaking. Something big and shadowy thatracked the complaining chain descended towards them, and then there wasa scuffle and a shout on the deck above. Austin heard the rattle ofrunning chain and a hoarse cry.
"Jump on it!" Jefferson's voice ran out, fierce with alarm. "Nip theslack around the bollard. Hang on! Oh, hang on, until he gets a turn!"
Feet shuffled about the light, there was stertorous gasping, anothercry, and a scream, and again Jefferson's voice broke through theconfused sounds:
"Stand from under--for your life!" it said.
The warning was unnecessary, for the Canarios were already crouchingforward in the surfboats bottom, and as Austin sprang in among themthere was a whirr and a crash. The craft swayed beneath him; he couldfeel her dipping in the flood, but she rose with a staggering lurch,slanted slightly, and held down by something huge and heavy.
"Are you still on top there?" Jefferson asked.
"We seem to be," said Austin. "Something's gone, but it's too dark tosee. How d'you come to let her go with a run?"
"Wall-eye let her surge too soon," said Jefferson. "He was getting anextra turn on, and nipped his hand in. She has 'most wrung it off him.Handspike your anchor where you can tilt her clear before we slackcable."
They contrived to do it somehow, with the flare that was lowered fromthe cat-davit dropping blazing oil about them, and then coiled down alength of the ponderous cable. One of the twin craft was tilted to thewater's edge now, and still the massive iron links came clanking down.Then, as the last fell with a crash, Jefferson leaned out over the railsabove.
"Bend the wire on below the break. You'll want a clear link for theshackle when we couple her up," he said. "Hang on to your anchor untilyou're in the mangroves on the other bank. We want to heave towards deepwater out in the stream."
More barefooted men came swinging down the hanging wire, and they slidaway into the blackness, bumping against the steamer's plates. The twincraft were top-heavy, and lurched in the grip of the stream. It was aminute or two before they had cleared the _Cumbria_, and by then theywere almost under her quarter; while when they had crept away from her afathom or two all of them knew there was a task in front of them thatwould severely tax all their strength.
They had the uncoiling wire rope to drag them back into line, the streamswept them down a fathom for every one they made ahead, and, as ill luckwould have it, bore upon the launch's pressed down side so that theycould hear the water gurgling into her in ever faster swirl. Still, theyhad to reach the opposite bank, or be hauled back to commence the taskagain, and, gasping and panting, they heaved on the wet rope that ledinto the rain ahead. Most of them were used to work of that kind, butduring the first five minutes Austin felt his arms grow weary andnerveless, and the veins distend on his forehead, while a curioussinging commenced in his ears. He choked with every fresh grasp he laidupon the rope, and a Canario behind him gasped out breathless snatchesof Castilian obscenity.
Still, in spite of all they could do, the blaze of red light leaping inthe rain showed that they were making nothing, and now and then the roperan out again through their clinging hands. There was no sign of themangroves on the opposite bank, while the tilt of the platform grewsteeper, and it was evident that the launch was filling under them.Then, little by little, the wire rope that ran out into the darknessastern commenced to curve--they could hear the swirl of the streamacross it--and after another five minutes' tense effort they swung intoa slacker flow or reflex eddy. There was, however, no slackening of thestrain, and it was not until a dim, black wall rose up above them thatAustin loosed his grasp upon the rope, and, floundering and stumbling inthe rain and darkness, they strove to clear the anchor.
It went over with a mighty splash, the platform rose with a jerk underthem; then, as they backed clear, there was a rattle of cable, and theyseized the wire. The lashed craft swung like a pendulum athwart thestream, the rattling winch hauled them back fathom by fathom to the_Cumbria_, while, when he had crawled on board her, Austin droppedlimply, and a trifle grey in face, on to the settee in the skipper'sroom.
"Well," he said, "that's done, though I think a little more of it wouldhave made an end of me. It is rather an astonishing thing, but while Ifelt fiercely anxious to get that anchor out before we started, ithardly seems worth the trouble now."
"We couldn't heave her off without it," said Jefferson. "That meansgoing home--eventually."
"I suppose it does," said Austin, with a little mirthless smile. "Still,I haven't any home, you see, and I'm not sure that a lazar hospital ofsome kind isn't what is awaiting me. You will remember the encouragingwords that fellow left--'My arm's almost rotten now.'"
Jefferson slowly clenched one scarred hand. "That's a thing we areneither of us strong enough to think about. It's a little toohorrible--it couldn't happen!"
"It's scarcel
y likely in your case, at least. He didn't put his armround you, and I had nothing worth mentioning on that night. Men do dierotten, and I fancied once or twice I felt a suggestive tingling in myskin."
Jefferson seemed to be holding himself in hand with a struggle, butAustin smiled.
"Well," he said, "if it comes at all, it will get the right one. I'm notgoing home to be married. In fact, I was told that it would be rather agraceful thing to come back upon my shield, though I don't know that Iwould like to do so looking as that nigger did. In the meanwhile, I had,perhaps, better see to Wall-eye's hand."
He went out into the darkness, and Jefferson stood still, with his lipsset tight, leaning on the table. He was, in some respects, a hard man,and his sojourn in Africa had not roused his gentler qualities, but justthen he felt an unpleasant physical nausea creeping over him again.