The Dust of Conflict Part 51

"She is travelling fast, and we should be clear of the land by sunrise,"

he said.

Harper glanced up at the moon. "If it had been darker it would have suited me just as well," he said. "The trouble is that if a gunboat came along you wouldn't see her in the mist."

"Still, that should cut both ways."

Harper shook his head. "It's not easy to make a boat out until you're close up with her, but you can see a steamer quite a long way off," he said.

Appleby said nothing further for a while, and the boat's gunwale became level with the froth that splashed about it, for the breeze freshened as they drew out from the land. A thin wisp of haze had stretched across the moon and dimmed the silvery light, but there was a wide strip of faintly s.h.i.+ning water in front of them when he fancied he caught a faint, pulsating sound.

"You hear it?" he said.

"Oh yes," said Harper dryly. "It's a steamer's engines. I kind of fancy she's outside of us."

They strained their ears to listen, but it is difficult to locate a sound among belts of haze, and when at last the measured throbbing was unpleasantly distinct Harper held up his hand.

"They're shoving her along, and she's not far away, but that's 'bout all I know," he said. "Get forward, and drop the latine."

Appleby did as he was bidden, and stood staring forward in the bows when the sail came down. The boat lay plunging on the heave that was streaked with flecks of froth, and there was a long trail of sliding haze not far away from them. From out of it came the sound of water parting under iron bows. Then two tall spars that swung a little rose out of the vapor, and next moment a blur of shadowy hull grew into visibility. It lengthened rapidly, a smear of smoke streamed across the sea, but there was no blink of light beneath it, and with the froth piled up at her bows the vessel came down upon them, portentous in her blackness and silence.

"A gunboat sure!" said Harper. "Lie down."

Appleby crouched at the foot of the mast with straining eyes. He could see the long black strip of hull swing with the heave until all the deck, which caught a flash of the dim moonlight, was visible. Then it swung back with slanted spars and funnel, and there was a white frothing about the tip of the lifted screw. It was evident that the gunboat would pa.s.s them unpleasantly close, and already the black shape of the man upon her forecastle was discernible against the sky, while hazy figures upon her slanting bridge grew into sharper form, and it seemed to Appleby that they could scarcely escape observation. Still, a boat lying low on the dusky water is difficult to see, and while he held his breath the war vessel drew abreast of them.

The roar of flung-up water and the pounding of engines throbbed about him, he could see a man upon the inclined deck clutch at something as she rolled, and now the funnel was level with him and a strip of streaming plates was lifted from the brine. It swept by, there was a swirl and a thudding beneath the lifted stern, and then the steamer grew dimmer while the boat lurched on the wake of throbbing screw.

"Now," said Harper with a little gasp, "when you can get the latine up we'll go on again."

It cost Appleby an effort to hoist the thras.h.i.+ng sail, but when it was set and the sheet hauled aft Harper laughed softly as the boat swung away buoyantly with her gunwales dipping in the foam.

"We'll be in the steamboat track by sun-up, and there'll be no wind then," he said. "Considering that each time you see a trail of smoke you may have to pull two or three miles, it would be kind of sensible to sleep when you can."

Appleby lay down on the wet floorings with an old sail over him, and for a time felt the swift swing of the little craft, and heard the gurgling swirl of brine, for the breeze she sped before was now breaking the heave into splas.h.i.+ng seas. Then he became oblivious to everything save when a little shower of spray blew into his face. At last he fancied that Harper was trying to stir him with his foot, and blinked at him vacantly, until Harper kicked him harder.

"Get up!" he said.

There was a tone in his voice which roused Appleby suddenly, and standing up he stared about him.

"Another gunboat?" he said.

"Look!" said Harper, pointing with his hand. "It can't do much good, but you may as well get the sail off her."

Appleby swung round, and saw that the moon was dim and low, though a faint light still shone down upon the white-flecked sea. Then he made out a black smear that moved across it amidst a turmoil of foam and a haze of smoke. It grew larger while he watched it, and there was a red streak of flame from one of the two funnels that took shape rapidly, but he could see no masts or hull, and the speed with which the smoke haze was coming on appeared incredible. Then he sprang forward, and lowered the latine into the boat.

"A big torpedo boat, or a destroyer," said Harper. "She'll pa.s.s 'bout quarter of a mile off, and we're going to make nothing by running away from her. It's just a question whether they see us or not."

The dim shape had grown clearer while he spoke, and a strip of something black appeared between the smoke cloud and the piled-up froth. Then a slender whip of mast stood out against the sky, and from the crown of the after funnel there poured another gush of flame. The craft was almost level with them now, but it was evident that in another minute or two she would have pa.s.sed and be fading again, and Appleby felt his heart throb painfully as he watched her. Then the white wash about her seemed to swirl higher, funnels and mast slanted sharply, and the half- seen hull shortened. Appleby looked at Harper, who made a little gesture of resignation.

"Yes," he said. "They've seen us. She's coming round."

A moment later a whistle rang out, and while Appleby sat down grim in face the white wave that frothed about the stranger's hull grew less noticeable. The smoke cloud also sank a little, and in a minute or two more a strip of lean black hull slid smoothly past them. Then he gasped as a voice came down across the waters.

"Boat ahoy? Get your oars out, and pull up alongside," it said.

They had the balanced sweeps out in a moment, and pulled with a will, while when they reached the craft that lay waiting them an officer stood by an opening in her rail. He spoke to them in Castilian, but Harper laughed, for he had recognized his uniform.

"I've no use for that talk," he said. "Get your ladder over!"

It was done, and in another moment he and Appleby stood on the torpedo boat's deck, where a couple of officers stared at them.

"Since you're not Cubans, where were you going in that boat?" said one.

"I guess you'd better take us right along to your commander," said Harper. "Aren't you going to shake hands with a countryman, anyway?"

The officer laughed. "I'll wait," he said dryly, "until I've heard what you have to say. Didn't you make your boat fast before you left her?"

"No, sir," said Harper. "We have no more use for her. We're coming along with you."

"Well, I guess we can pick her up again if that doesn't suit our commander," said the officer.

He led them aft to a little cabin, and left them there until a young officer came in. He sat down on the opposite side of the little table and looked at them.

"You haven't the appearance of Cubans, in spite of your clothes," he said. "Now, I'll ask you for a straight tale. What brought you off the land in a boat of that kind?"

"A wish to get as far away from Cuba by sunrise as we could," said Appleby.

"What did you want to get out of Cuba for?"

"Is there any special reason why I should tell you?" asked Appleby, who was a trifle nettled.

"It seems to me there is. Anyway, back you go into your boat unless you satisfy me."

Appleby looked at the man a moment, and was pleasantly impressed, in spite of the abruptness of his manner. He had a quiet bronzed face and steady eyes, while the faint ring of command in his voice did not seem out of keeping with them.

"Then if you will listen for a minute or two I will try to tell you," he said.

"Quick as you can!"

Appleby spoke rapidly, disregarding Harper, who seemed anxious to tell the story too, and the commander nodded.

"Who is the American that employed you?" he said.

"Cyrus P. Harding."

The commander, who started, cast a swift glance at him, and then rising abruptly signed to a man at the door.

"Tell Lieutenant Stalker he may go ahead, as we were steering, full speed," he said.