Read The Coast of Adventure Page 14


  CHAPTER XIV

  SMOOTH WATER

  There was no wind except the draught the steamer made as she lurchedacross the dazzling swell. Cuba floated like a high, blue cloud over theport hand, cut off from the water by a blaze of reflected light, and thebroad Yucatan Channel, glimmering like silver, stretched ahead. The deckhad been holystoned and well sluiced before sunrise and was not quitedry, and there was a slight coolness in the air where Evelyn Cliffe satunder the awning.

  Macallister leaned on the rail near by, wearing a white cap with a mailcompany's badge, and a blue jacket over his greasy duck. He had givenhis dress some thought since the passengers came on board. Miguel stoodat the wheel, barefooted, tall, and picturesque in spotless white, witha red cap and a red sash round his waist. A few big logs of hardwoodthat gave out an aromatic smell were made fast amidships.

  "I suppose that lumber's valuable," Evelyn remarked.

  "It depends upon whether ye want to buy or sell," Macallister replied."They telt us good logs were scarce in Cuba, but I doubt we'll finddemand is slack when we come to part wi' them."

  "Then the trade can't be very profitable."

  "It's just changing a shilling. Sometimes ye get a ha'penny over."

  Evelyn laughed.

  "Which one of you looks after business matters?"

  "I'm thinking it will have to be Walthew. The lad shows a naturalability."

  "But he's younger than Mr. Grahame--and probably has not had as muchexperience."

  Macallister gave her a half-amused glance.

  "The skipper's no' a fool, but when he makes a bargain he's frank andquick. States the fair price and sticks to it. He will not spend time inscheming how he can screw a few more dollars out o' the other man. Yon'sa gift ye must be born with."

  "Do you mean Mr. Grahame rather despises money-making?"

  "No' that exactly," Macallister replied in a confidential tone. "But, yesee, he's a Grahame o' Calder Ha'."

  "Oh! Is that a great distinction?"

  "It depends on how ye look at things. His branch o' the family is maybeno' o' much importance noo, but in the old wild days the lairds o'Calder Ha' were chiefs on the Border. They guarded the moss roads, theykept the fords, and the kings at Stirling and Westminster noo boughttheir goodwill with presents and noo hanged a few o' the clan."

  "And Calder Hall? Is it one of the rude stone towers you see picturesof?"

  Macallister smiled.

  "Calder Ha's bonny. The old tower stands, with the coat o' arms abovethe door, but a low, gray house with stone-ribbed windows runs backwhere was once the bailly wall. Below's a bit ragged orchard, the benttrees gray with fog, and then the lawn dropping to the waterside. Naesoft Southern beauty yonder; but ye feel the charm o' the cold, ruggedNorth." He paused, and resumed with a reminiscent air: "I mind how Iwent to Calder Ha' when I was a young and romantic laddie fired by Scottand him who taught the wandering winds to sing; the tales o' the Ettrickshepherd were thought good reading then. After a bit plain speaking tothe foreman o' a Clydeside engine shop, I was fitting spinning gear in anew woolen mill, and I left the narrow Border town on a holiday dawn.

  "There was mist along the alders and a smell o' wet dust where the whiteroad followed the waterside, but as the sun came ower the hills I tookto the moor. Red it was like crimson velvet with the light upon theling, rolling on to Cheviot-foot, with the brown grouse crying and theclear sky above. At noon I came down a bit water that tumbled in a linn,where rowans grew among the stones and the eddies were amber with theseeping from the peat. The burn got wider, the bare hills closed in; andthen I came on Calder Ha' at a turning o' the glen. Black firs behindit, standing stiff like sentinels; the house with the tower in themiddle on the breast o' the brae, and the lawn running doon to a pool.Then I kent why the Grahames loved it and would never sell, though manya rich man would have bought the place from them."

  "Did you tell Mr. Grahame this?" Evelyn asked.

  "Maybe it makes things easier that he thinks I dinna ken," saidMacallister.

  Evelyn agreed, for she saw that his reticence was caused by tactfulsympathy. Afterward she was silent for a time. The Scot's admiration forthe old Border house appealed to her. He had shown a taste and ahalf-poetical imagination that she had not suspected when they firstmet; but it was not of Macallister she was thinking. After all, it mustbe something to belong to a family with such traditions as clung aboutCalder Hall; but she must not dwell too much on this.

  "Aren't we going slowly?" she asked.

  "Coal's dear in the West Indies, and the slower ye go the less ye use.But if ye are tiring o' the trip, I might drive her a bit faster."

  Evelyn glanced across the long undulations that were deep-blue in thehollows, and touched upon their summits with brilliant light. She likedto feel the easy lift as the _Enchantress_ shouldered off the swell; thedrowsy murmur at the bows and the rhythmical throb of engines weresoothing. Then there was a pleasant serenity in the wide expanse. Butshe was honest with herself, and she knew that the beauty of the calmsea did not quite account for the absence of any wish to shorten thevoyage.

  "Oh," she said, "please don't burn more coal than is necessary. I'mquite content. I love the sunshine and the smooth water."

  Macallister strolled away, but she saw his twinkling smile and wonderedwhether he was satisfied with her excuse.

  Evelyn lay back in her steamer-chair, looking out over the glisteningwater and idly watching the white-caps far out at sea. She felt, ratherthan saw, Grahame approach. When she turned to him, smiling, he wasclose beside her, leaning against the rail. His pose was virile, and hisexpression marked by the quiet alertness she had learned to know. Itsuggested resolution, self-reliance, and power of command. Thesequalities were not obtrusively indicated, but Evelyn recognized them andwondered how much he owed to his being a Grahame of Calder Hall.Hereditary influences must be reckoned on.

  "This is the first chance I've had to see you alone," he said. "I wantto thank you for your help at the International."

  "Was it useful?"

  "Very useful. Your quickness and resourcefulness were surprising."

  "That's a doubtful compliment," she laughed. "To me the affair was quiteexciting. To feel that you're engaged in a conspiracy gives you apleasant thrill."

  "I wonder!" Grahame remarked rather grimly. "But may I ask----"

  "Oh, I can't dissect the impulses that prompted me. No doubt, the hintof intrigue was attractive--and perhaps friendship counted too."

  "And you took the excellence of my intentions on trust?"

  "Well, there really was no time to question you, and judge if they weregood. As a matter of fact, I'm no wiser now."

  "No," he said. "On the whole, I think it's better that you shouldn'tknow."

  "It looks as if I'm more confiding than you."

  Grahame, studying her face, suspected disappointed curiosity and a touchof pique.

  "Your confidence is yours, to give or withhold as you think best. Mine,however, belongs to others."

  "Then there are a number of people in the plot!"

  Grahame laughed.

  "If it's any comfort for you to know, when you came to our rescue thatnight in Havana you helped a man who has made many sacrifices for a goodcause."

  "As you're too modest to mean yourself, you must be speaking of thegentleman with the pretty daughter."

  "Yes, Dona Blanca is pretty; but I prefer the Anglo-Saxon type. There'sa charm in tropical languor, but one misses the bracing keenness of theNorth." He quoted with a smile,

  "Oh, dark and true and tender----"

  "We may be true; one likes to think so. But I'm not sure that tendernessis a characteristic of ours."

  "It's not lightly given, but it goes deep and lasts," Grahame answered.

  When he left her a few minutes afterward, Evelyn sat thinking languidly.She found him elusive. He was frank, in a way, but avoided personaltopics. Then, remembering the scrap of verse he had quoted, shereflected that he was certainly a
Northerner in feeling; but was truth,after all, an essential feature of the type? To be really true, one mustbe loyal to one's inner self and follow one's heart. But this was risky.It might mean sacrificing things one valued and renouncing advantages tobe gained. Prudence suggested taking the safe, conventional course thatwould meet with the approval of one's friends; but Romance stood,veiled and mysterious, beckoning her, and she thrilled with aninstinctive response. Now, however, she felt that she was getting on todangerous ground, and she joined Cliffe, who sat in the shade of thedeckhouse, talking to Walthew; but they did not help her to banish herthoughts. Her father was a practical business man, and Walthew hadenjoyed a training very similar to hers. It was strange that he shouldnow seek adventures instead of riches, and stranger still that herfather should show some sympathy with him.

  An hour later Grahame found Macallister leaning on the rail, contentedlysmoking his pipe.

  "She's only making seven knots; you're letting steam down," he said.

  "Weel," rejoined Macallister, "we're saving coal, and we'll be inKingston soon enough. Then, Miss Cliffe's no' in a hurry. She's enjoyingthe smooth water; she telt me so."

  Grahame looked hard at him.

  "You have a dangerous love of meddling, Mack," he said.

  "I'll no' deny it. For a' that, I've had thickheaded friends who've beengrateful to me noo and then. What ye have no' is the sense to ken anopportunity."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  Macallister's manner grew confidential.

  "She's thinking about ye and when a lassie goes so far----"

  Grahame stopped him with a frown.

  "I'd sooner you dropped this nonsense. It's a poor joke."

  "Weel, if ye have no ambition! Selling guns to revolutionists is no' aremarkably profitable business, particularly if ye're caught, and I wasthinking ye might do better. The girl's no' bad to look at; I've seen yewatching her."

  "Not bad to look at!" Grahame checked himself. "We'll talk aboutsomething else."

  "As ye like!"

  Macallister took out a small, tapered piece of steel.

  "This, ye ken, is a cotter, and the dago from the foundry put it in. Hewas a good fitter, but the pin's a sixty-fourth too small for the slot.Maybe it was carelessness; but there would have been trouble when thecotter shook out if Walthew hadna' heard her knocking. Yon lad has themakings o' an engineer."

  Grahame looked thoughtful.

  "Gomez was in Havana, and I dare say he has his agents and spies. Still,if he suspected anything, it would have been a better stroke to havewatched and seized us when we had the arms on board. I'd expect him tosee it."

  "Weel," said Macallister grimly, "if I meet yon dago another time, I'llmaybe find out something before I throw him off the mole. A goodengine's nearer life than anything man has made, and wrecking her is asbad as murder."

  "I don't think our opponents would stick at that," Grahame replied as heturned away.

  Toward evening the barometer fell, and it grew very hot. There was nowind, the sky was cloudless, and the sea rolled back to the horizonwithout a ripple. For all that, there was a curious tension in theatmosphere, and Evelyn noticed that soon after Macallister came up fora few minutes and looked carefully about, thick smoke rose from thefunnel. The girl's head felt heavy, and her skin prickly; and she sawthat Grahame's hawk look was more noticeable than usual. He was,however, not fidgety, and after dinner he sat talking to her and Cliffeunder the awning. The air was oppressively still, and a half-moon hunglike a great lamp low above the sea.

  About nine o'clock Cliffe went to his cabin to look for a cigar, andEvelyn and Grahame sat silent for a while, wrapped in the mystery of thenight.

  Evelyn was the first to speak.

  "I suppose you don't expect this calm to last?" she asked in a hushedvoice.

  "I'd like it to last while you're with us. But I can't promise that,"Grahame answered. "If we do get a breeze it will probably soon blowitself out."

  Evelyn glanced at the sea.

  "It doesn't look as if it could ever be ruffled," she said. "One likessmooth water--but it's apt to get monotonous."

  "That's a matter of temperament, or perhaps experience. When you've hadto battle with headwinds, you appreciate a calm."

  "I don't know. So far, I've had only sunshine and fine weather, but thenI've always clung to the sheltered coast. It's nice to feel safe, butone sometimes wonders what there is farther out."

  "Breaking seas and icy gales that drive you off your course. Now andthen islands of mystic beauty, but more often surf-beaten reefs. On thewhole, it's wiser to keep in smooth water."

  "Perhaps," Evelyn said skeptically. "Still, there's a fascination inadventure, if it's only as a test of courage, and one feels tempted totake a risk."

  She rose with a laugh.

  "I don't know why I talk like this! I'm really a very practicalgirl--not a sentimentalist."

  She moved away, and Grahame, calling one of the men to furl the awning,went into the deckhouse and deliberately pored over a chart. There weretimes when it was not safe to permit himself to think of Evelyn.