The Buccaneer Farmer Part 29

Another gang was moving a kedge-anchor across the deck, while a few more coiled heavy ropes beside the winch. Mayne obviously meant to try to heave the vessel off, but Kit thought he would not succeed until the moon was full. In the meantime, cargo could only be landed when there was water enough to float boats up to the s.h.i.+p, and Kit glanced across the lagoon. There were no mangroves on the other side, although thick timber grew close down to a belt of sand. Below this was mud, across which he imagined heavy goods could not be carried. The heat and steamy damp made him languid, and he went to Adam's room. Adam had got up and sat, half-dressed, on the lower berth with a gla.s.s on the floor close by. His hands shook and there was no color in his lips.

"It's rather early for a strong c.o.c.ktail, but I felt I needed bracing,"

he said. "What do you think about our chance of getting her off?"

"I imagine it's impossible for another week and don't see how we'll get the cargo out."

"Don't you?" said Adam grimly. "It has got to be done. If Mayne finds the job too big, I'll put it through myself."

"You ought to leave before the malaria knocks you down," Kit rejoined.

"If I had the power, I'd make you go."

Adam smiled. "You mean well, boy, but you don't understand, and if you plot with Mayne to bluff me, I'll surely break you both. Now go and see if the president's men have arrived. Then you can tell Mayne to rig his derricks and take the hatches off."

Kit went out and after a time three or four figures appeared among the trees across the lagoon. They came down to the mud, but when Kit shouted, asking if they could launch a canoe, one shrugged and they turned back.

"I reckon the old man means us to get busy with the cargo," Mayne remarked.

"Yes," said Kit. "I understand he's ready to undertake the job if we find it too much for us."

"He's a hustler, sure! So far as I can see, the thing can't be done, but if Askew wants it done, I guess we've got to try. We'll carry out the kedge and make fast a warp or two when the tide flows. He'll expect it, though I don't reckon much on our chance of floating her."

By degrees the muddy water crawled up the plates and the _Rio Negro_ rose upright; the haze melted and it got fiercely hot when the sun shone. A canoe, manned by half-breed peons, crossed the lagoon, and with heavy labor the kedge-anchor was hoisted out and hung between two boats.

Half-naked men toiled at the oars until the las.h.i.+ngs were cut and the boats rocked as the anchor sank. Then their crews, dragging large stiff warps, forced their way among the mangrove roots and made the ropes fast where they could. They came back exhausted, dripping with water and daubed by slime, and Mayne went to the bridge.

The sun pierced the narrow awning and there was not a breath of wind. The lagoon shone with dazzling brightness and the iron deck threw up an intolerable heat. Kit felt the perspiration soak his thin clothes, and big drops of moisture trickled down Adam's yellow face as he sat with half-shut eyes, in a canvas chair. By and by he took out his watch, and Kit noted that he moved it once or twice before he could see the time.

"Hadn't you better get busy?" he asked Mayne.

The telegraph clanged, the engines panted, and the _Rio Negro_ began to shake as the screw revolved. There was no movement but the racking throb, until Mayne raised his hand and winch and windla.s.s rattled. Puffs of steam blew about, the cable rose from the water with a jar, and the warps ran slowly across the winch-drums, foul with greasy sc.u.m.

"Hold on to it!" Mayne shouted. "Get in the last inch!"

His voice was drowned by the rattle of chain and hiss of steam, but the uproar began to die away and the sharp clatter of small engines changed to spasmodic jars. Then somebody shouted, there was a crash, and the end of a broken warp, flying back, tore up the dazzling water. The windla.s.s stopped, and a few moments later a clump of mangroves swayed. Kit heard green wood crack, as a rope that had stretched and strained began to move. Then Mayne raised his hand.

"Let go; stop her! You're pulling up the trees."

There was a sudden quietness except for the insistent throb of the screw, and Mayne turned to Adam.

"If the cable holds, I can smash the windla.s.s, but I can't heave her off."

"Very well. You quit and get the cargo out. Better hustle while she's upright."

Mayne went down the ladder and when he unlocked the iron door of the after wheel-house a gang of men brought out a row of small-boxes. A mulatto from the beach, who wore neat white clothes and an expensive hat, counted the boxes and then gave Adam a receipt.

"Don Hernando will be glad to get these goods and we will start at once,"

he said. "Although I have a guard, it will be safe to reach the town before the president's enemies know."

"That would be prudent, senor," Adam agreed, and turned to Kit when the mulatto went away.

"I have done my part and it's Alvarez's business to see the chests get through. Well, we have both taken some chances since he was a Customs-clerk and I a _contrabandista_ running the old _Mercedes_, but I reckon this is my rashest plunge. Anyhow, if I get my money back or not, I've put up the goods. Now you can tell Mayne to break out the guns."

Mayne gave orders, derrick-booms swung from the stumpy masts, pulleys rattled, and heavy cases rose from the holds. The boats, however, could not get abreast of the forward hatch and the cases had to be moved across slippery iron plates to the after derrick that hoisted them overboard. It was exhausting work, and the heat was intolerable. The white crew threw off their soaked clothes and toiled half-naked in the sun that burned their skin, but Adam left the awning and went about in the glare.

At first, the mates grumbled with indignant surprise. Their employer was breaking rules; working the cargo was their business and n.o.body else must meddle. Besides, they had not met a s.h.i.+powner able to superintend the job. One who ventured a protest, however, stopped in awkward embarra.s.sment when Adam gave him a look, and the others soon admitted that few captains knew more about derricks and slings. Nevertheless, Kit was anxious as he watched his uncle. He knew Adam would pay for this and wondered how long he could keep it up.

At noon, the peons refused another load and when Adam addressed them in virulent Castilian, coolly pulled the boats away from the s.h.i.+p. When they had rowed a short distance they stopped and one got up.

"More is not possible, senor," he said. "To work in this sun is not for flesh and blood. After we have slept for an hour or two, we will come back."

Adam felt for his pistol, but hesitated, with his hand at his silk belt, and Kit thought he looked very like a Buccaneer.

"It might pay to plug that fellow, and I'd have risked it when I came here in the _Mercedes_. Still, I guess Don Hernando has enough trouble."

Mayne, standing behind him, grinned. "I reckon that fixes the thing.

Don't know I'm sorry the dagos have lit out; my crowd are used up and ready to mutiny."

For two hours the tired crew rested while the water sank and the steamer resumed her awkward list. Then the boats came back and the men crawled languidly about the slanted deck, until Adam went among them with bitter words. The sea breeze was blowing outside, but no wind could enter the gap in the trees, and foul exhalations from warm mud and slime poisoned the stagnant air. Kit's head ached, his eyes hurt, and his joints were sore; he felt strangely limp and it cost him an effort to get about.

All the while the winches hammered and pulleys screamed as the cases came up and the empty slings went down. The heat got suffocating and the slant of masts and deck made matters worse, because the men must hold the derricks back with guys while the heavy goods cleared the coamings of the hatch. Much judgment was needed to drop them safely in the boats. Men gasped and choked, quarreled with each other, and growled at the mates, but somehow held on while the tide ebbed and the sun sank nearer the mangroves' tops. It dipped when the breathless peons pushed the last boat away from the _Rio Negro's_ side, and the noisy machines stopped.

Darkness spread swiftly across the lagoon and a white fog, hot and damp as steam, rose from the forest and hung about the s.h.i.+p. Everything was very quiet, for the men were too limp to talk, but a murmur came out of the distance where the long swell beat upon the shoals. Kit and Mayne sat in the chart-room, with a jug of iced liquor on the table in front.

Sometimes they spoke a few words and sometimes smoked in silence, while Adam lay on the settee, saying nothing. At length, he got up and a steward helped him to his room. Somehow the others felt it a relief that he had gone.

"I can hustle, but your uncle makes me tired," Mayne remarked. "If you get what I mean, it's like watching a dead man chase the boys about; you feel it's unnatural to see him on his feet. Well, one has to pay for fooling with a climate like this, and I'm afraid the bill he'll get will break him. Can't you make him quit?"

"I can't; I've tried."

"The curious thing is he knows the cost," Mayne resumed. "Knows what's coming to him unless he goes."

"Yes," said Kit in a thoughtful voice, "I believe he does know and doesn't mind. This makes it rough on me. I'm powerless to send him off and I'm fond of the old man."

Mayne made a sign of agreement. "He's a pretty tough proposition and was worse when he was young; but I've risked my life to serve him. The Buccaneer holds his friends."

Kit said nothing. He was anxious and depressed and soon went off to bed.

When work began next morning, Adam was on deck and superintended the landing of the cargo in spite of Kit's protest. Kit thought the day was hotter than the last, and after an hour or two's disturbed sleep in his stifling room, found it hard to drag himself about. When the exhausted peons stopped at noon, he lay under the awning and kept close to Adam when they resumed. He did not like his uncle's fixed frown and thought it was caused by the effort he made to keep at work. If not, it was a hint of pain he stubbornly tried to overcome. Besides, his step was dragging and his movements were awkward.

About the middle of the afternoon, Adam stood near the noisy winch while a case was hoisted. The winch-man looked up when the heavy load, hanging from the derrick, swung across the slanted deck.

"Hold her while they steady the boom!" Adam shouted and seized the rope that slipped round the drum.

The winch-driver was watching the others who struggled with the guy, and perhaps forgot it was not a strong man who had come to his help. For a moment or two, Adam kept his grip, and then his hands opened and he staggered back. Somebody shouted, a pulley rattled, and the case, running down, crashed against the steamer's rail. Kit ran forward, but reached the spot a moment too late, for Adam lay unconscious on the iron deck.

They picked him up and carried him to the bridge, where it was a little cooler than his room, but for some time he did not open his eyes. Then he looked about dully and seeing Kit gave him a feeble smile.

"You're in charge now, partner; keep the boys hustling," he said.

"There's the coffee to load up when you have put the guns ash.o.r.e. Looks as if I had got to leave the job to you."

He turned his head, drew a hard breath, as if it had hurt him to speak, and said nothing more. The work, however, went on until it got dark, and when the mist rose from the mangroves and a heavy dew began to fall they carried Adam to his room. He slept for part of the night while Kit watched, but now and then tossed about with delirious mutterings. When morning came he did not wake and Kit, looking at his pinched, wet face, went on deck with a heavy heart. He had sent for the Spanish doctor, but thought it did not matter much if Senor Martin came or not. In another day or two he would be alone.