The Buccaneer Farmer Part 30

CHAPTER IX

ADAM'S LAST REQUEST

It was nearly full moon, the night was calm, and the flowing tide rippled among the mangrove roots. Clammy vapor drifted about the s.h.i.+p and big drops fell from the rigging and splashed upon the deck. A plume of smoke went nearly straight up from the funnel, and now and then the clang of furnace-slice and shovel rose from the stokehold, for Mayne hoped to float the vessel next tide. For the most part, however, the men were asleep and it was very quiet in the room under the p.o.o.p. A lamp tilted at a sharp angle gave a feeble light that touched Adam's face. Kit sat on a locker opposite, looking anxious and worn.

"You loaded up some of the coffee," Adam remarked in a strained voice.

"Half of it, I think; the rest's on the beach," said Kit. "It's doubtful if we'll get the next lot, since Senor Martin understands the fighting has begun."

"The lot you have s.h.i.+pped will be something to score against the account; it's prime coffee and ought to sell well. I'd like you to get the rubber, but Alvarez can't wait long for the goods Mackellar has ready for the boat. Another voyage and you can pull out for the old country. I'd reckoned on going with you, but that's done with."

Kit said nothing. The doctor had come and gone, for he was needed elsewhere and could not help the sick man. One could indulge him and make things comfortable for a few days but that was all, he said, and Kit saw that Adam knew. By and by the latter resumed:

"I've been thinking about Peter and Ashness. I'd have liked to see the old place and the fells again, and when I was half asleep I thought I heard the beck splash among the thorns and the pee-wits crying. Well, you are going back, and you'll marry that girl. Though it will cost you something to see Alvarez through, you ought to be rich enough."

"You mustn't talk too much," said Kit. "Senor Martin told you to rest."

Adam smiled. "It doesn't matter now if I rest or not. My brain's clearer and I'll talk while I can. I never told you much about my early life, but I'm going to do so, because there's something I want to ask."

"Then, you have only to ask it," Kit replied.

"I know," said Adam, feebly. "You're staunch. Well, you have seen the despatch-box in the office, marked _Hattie G._, though I lost the old boat long before you came out. She was a coal-eater and didn't pay to run, but I kept her going until she hit the reef. My first steamboat--I got her when she was going cheap; but she was bought with my wife's money, and called after her.

"I met Hattie in Florida about the year you were born. She was Vanhuyten's cousin and the finest thing that ever wore a woman's shape.

Northern grit and Southern fire, for she sprang from New England and good Virginia stock; I've seen no woman with her superb confidence. Well, I was a _contrabandista_ with some ugly tales against my name, but I fell in love with Hattie and married her in a month."

Adam was silent for a few minutes, and while Kit mused, shovels clinked in the stokehold and the vessel began to lift. The tilted lamp straightened and its light rested on Adam's wasted form. His silk pyjamas rather emphasized than hid his gauntness; he looked strangely worn and weak, but Kit could picture the strong pa.s.sion of his love-making. There was something fierce and primitive about the old Buccaneer, and it was not hard to see how he had, so to speak, swept the romantic girl off her feet by the fiery spirit that had burned him out.

Yet he had never talked about other women, and though he knew the South, Kit thought he had cared for none.

"I left her in a few weeks," Adam went on. "Alvarez was putting up for president and my savings were at stake. Hattie went home to Virginia while I helped Alvarez on the coast. He was hard up against it, though he's been president three times since. Well, when things looked blackest, I was knocked out in Salinas swamps, by fever and a bullet that touched my lungs. They took me to the old Indian mission--we were cut off from the s.h.i.+p--and Father Herman put the _rurales_ off my track. I've sent him wine and candles, he's at the mission yet; it stands between thick forest and swamps like this, and the padre's the only white man who has lived there long. Get down the chart and I'll show you the landing place."

Kit did so, feeling that he ought to indulge a sick man's caprice, and Adam, after giving him clear directions, was quiet for some minutes. Then he began again, with an effort:

"Vanhuyten told Hattie, and I found out afterwards, that she had had trouble at home. Her folks had never trusted me and wanted to keep her back, but she had rich friends who sent her out, like an American princess, on a big steam yacht. She got to the mission when I was at my worst, and finding I could not be moved, sent the yacht away. It was some days before I knew she had come. There was no doctor to be got. Alvarez could not send help, and the government soldiers were hunting for his friends, but Father Herman knew something about medicine and Hattie helped him better than a trained nurse. I can see her now, going about the mud-walled room in her clean, white dress, without a hint of weariness in her gentle eyes. That was when she thought I was watching, but sometimes at night her head bent and her figure drooped.

"It was blisteringly hot and when the sun went down the poisonous steam from the swamps drifted round the spot. Sometimes I begged her not to stay, and sometimes I raged, but Hattie could not be moved and my weak anger broke before her smiles. She was strong and would not get fever, she said; she had come to nurse me, and, if I insisted, would go home when I was well."

Adam stopped and asked for a drink, and afterwards Kit hoped he had gone to sleep, but he presently roused himself again.

"I have got to finish, partner, because there's a reason you should hear it all. By and by Father Herman had to nurse us both, and when I got better Hattie died. We buried her by torchlight in the dusty mission yard--she was a Catholic--you'll see the marble cross. I've been lonely ever since, and that's partly why I sent for you; Peter came next to Hattie and you are Peter's son. Now I'm ready to pull out and somehow I think Hattie will find me when I'm wandering in the dark. Love like hers is strong. But I want you to listen when you have given me another drink."

Kit held the gla.s.s to Adam's cracked lips. He drank and lay still, breathing hard, and Kit heard the ripple of the tide. The _Rio Negro_ was getting upright and as the lamp turned in its socket the light moved across the wall. After a time, Adam resumed in a clearer voice:

"All I have is yours; Mackellar will prove the will, but you'll see Alvarez out, as I meant to do. Another thing; Mayne will get the old boat off tomorrow, and when he's loaded up I want you to take me out and land me on the creek I marked behind Salinas Point. He can fly the flag half-mast; I'll have started on the lone trail then. You'll hire some half-breed boys at the _pueblo_ in the swamp, and take me to the mission and lay me beside my wife. Hattie was a Catholic and you can tell Father Herman that what she believed was good enough for me. Afterwards, you'll send him now and then the box of candles he will tell you about. They're to burn in the little chapel before Our Lady of Sorrows, where Hattie used to pray I might get well. You'll do this for me?"

"I will," Kit answered with forced quietness. "Then I've finished," said Adam. "I'm going to sleep now and mayn't talk much again."

He turned his head from the light and presently Kit, hearing him breathe quietly, went out on deck.

At high-water next day, the _Rio Negro_ floated off the mud and when she swung to her anchor Kit went into Adam's room. Adam was very weak, but looked up.

"Get the coffee on board; I'm afraid you won't have time for the next lot and the rubber," he said. "Tell Finlay to bank his fires. You'll want steam to take me out."

Kit understood, and nodded because he could not speak, and Adam, giving him a quiet smile, went to sleep again.

Some hours later, Mayne joined Kit, who had gone on deck for a few minutes.

"That's the last of the _hacienda Luisa_ coffee," he said, indicating a boat alongside. "The peons tell me the next lot's coming down, but if we s.h.i.+p it, we'll miss the tide."

"You can close the hatches. The coffee must wait."

"It's high-grade stuff and brings top price. I sure don't like to leave it to spoil."

"We must risk that," Kit said quietly.

"There's another thing; Pedro, the clerk, reckons they're fighting near Salinas and the president's not popular in that neighborhood. Looks as if you might have some trouble to take the old man to the mission."

"It's possible," said Kit. "I'm going to try. Have everything ready for us to get off to-night."

Mayne lifted his hand to his cap. "Very well, sir. We'll start as soon as there's water enough."

He went away, but Kit knew what he meant. The captain had done his duty by indicating obstacles, but he approved his new master's resolve and owned his authority. Kit was persuaded he would have Mayne's loyal help and went back to Adam's room. When it was getting dark, Adam moved his head as the engines began to throb and the propeller churned noisily in the shallow water. It stopped after a few turns and steam blew off.

"Finlay's giving her a trial spin," Adam remarked, in a very faint voice.

"I see you've got things fixed and I'm ready to start." He stopped and shut his eyes for a minute or two, and Kit did not know if he was conscious or not. Then he resumed in a strained whisper: "All's ready; ring for full-speed. I'm going to meet my wife."

He drew a hard breath, sighed, and did not speak again. An hour afterwards, Mayne met Kit coming out of the room, and glancing at his face took off his cap.

"I guess it hits you hard and I'll miss him, too," he said. "I'll not get another master like the Buccaneer."

He went off to give some orders and Kit sat down, feeling very desolate.

When the tide had risen and flowed past, oily smooth, under the full moon, the windla.s.s began to rattle and the cable clanged. The anchor came up and when the engines shook the s.h.i.+p Mayne pulled the whistle-line and a long blast rolled across the woods. Next moment a rocket soared and burst in a shower of colored lights.

"Vanhuyten and Askew's signal! The head of the house is making his last trip," the captain remarked.

The echoes sank, the colored lights burned out, and the measured beat of engines jarred upon the silence as the _Rio Negro_ went to sea. For a time the land breeze blew the steam of the swamps after her, and masts and funnels reeled through a muggy haze as she lurched across the surf-swept shoals. She floated high and light, her muddy side rising like a wall as she steadied between the rolls that dipped her channels in the foam. Outside, the swell was regular and the roll long and rhythmical; the haze thinned, the air got sweet and cool, and the hearts of the crew got lighter as she steamed out to open sea. For all that, men lowered their voices and trod quietly when they pa.s.sed the p.o.o.p cabin where her dead owner lay.

At sunrise, Mayne hoisted the house-flag, and the Stars and Stripes drooped languidly half way up the ensign staff, until the gla.s.sy calm broke and the sea breeze straightened the blue and silver folds. By and by he changed the course and mountains rose ahead, although a bank of cloud hid the plain and mangrove forest at their feet. In the afternoon, he searched the haze with his gla.s.ses, and getting a bearing stopped the engines near Salinas Point at dusk.

"If the weather's good, I'll wait three days," he said. "Then, if you send no word, I'll pull out for Havana and get the engines properly fixed. Better take this bag of Spanish money; minted silver goes and you may find the dagos shy of the president's notes."

Kit took the money, a boat was swung out, and four sailors carried the plain, flag-wrapped coffin down the ladder. They were rough men, but Kit imagined he could trust them. Another crew picked up the oars, greasy caps were lifted, the _Rio Negro's_ whistle screamed a last salute, and the boat stole away. Mayne steamed off to anchor on good holding ground, and Kit sat at the tiller, with his eyes fixed on the misty coast.