He encouraged Nelson, and passing her high bow, they swam along her side. The ladder was aft and all the passengers on the saloon-deck came to the rail. Kit seized the ladder and when he had pulled Nelson on to the platform hesitated. No shore boats were about and he could not swim to the beach.
"Embarrassing, but let's get up," gasped Nelson.
Kit set his mouth and went up. A steward who wore neat uniform met him at the top.
"Have you got a ticket, sir?"
"I have not," said Kit; "do I look like a passenger?"
"Ship's cleared, sir. All visitors sent off. We're only waiting for the water-boat."
Kit made an effort for control. To get savage would not help and the fellow had no doubt been ordered to let nobody come on board. For all that a number of amused passengers were watching the dispute. The thing was ridiculous, and he was cold. He thought he knew one of the passengers and tried to signal, but the fellow went behind a boat. Although an iron ladder a few yards off led to the well-deck, the steward resolutely blocked the way. Then a very smart mate crossed the deck.
"Why have you come on board? What do you want?" he asked.
"Clothes, to begin with," said Kit. "Anyhow, we have got on board and we're going to stop until we get a boat."
The whistle shrieked and drowned the other's reply. He turned, Nelson pushed Kit, and they ran for the ladder. Plunging down, they reached an alleyway and Nelson laughed.
"I don't expect the fellow will come after us; a liner's mate has got to be dignified. If you want help when things are awkward, try the engineer."
They went up the alleyway and met a short, thin man, wearing a stained blue jacket and greasy trousers. He stopped and studied them, without surprise.
"Weel?" he said. "Are ye going to a fancy ball?"
"We want to borrow some clothes; dungarees, overalls, anything you've got," said Kit. "We had to give up a swimming match and couldn't reach my ship, astern of you."
"The little Spanish mailboat? Ye're with Macallister?"
"Of course. He got up the match, although I think he didn't start."
"It's verra possible," said the other dryly. "Mack canna swim. But if ye are friends o' his, I must get ye clothes."
Kit thanked him, and then, looking at the man thoughtfully, added that he doubted if the things would fit.
"I wasna meaning to lend ye my clothes," the engineer replied. "If ye're no fastidious, the second's aboot your size. Since he's occupied below, I dinna think he'll mind."
He took them into the mess-room, gave them some white clothes, and went off, remarking: "Ye'll be ready to go ashore with the water-boat. When they've filled my tanks we start."
"He won't start for some time," said Nelson. "You see, until we were on the mole, I forgot to tell Felix they wanted water. Jardine sent the coal, but the water's my job."
"You seem to forget rather easily," Kit remarked.
"Oh, well," said Nelson, "Don Arturo gave me the post because I can sing." He paused and added apologetically: "I really can sing, you know."
Kit laughed. He thought he liked Nelson. "Where do you think the others went?"
"There's a sandy spot near the barranco and I expect they crawled out. Of course, the distance was too long, but Macallister insisted we should go right across."
"Yet the engineer declared he can't swim."
"He can't swim; I have gone in with him at the bathing beach. All the same, I don't think this would bother Mack. If your mate had not meddled, he'd have started."
"But the thing's ridiculous!" Kit exclaimed. "If you can't swim and jump into deep water, you drown."
"Unless somebody pulls you out. Anyhow, Mack is like that, and I forget things; Don Arturo's men are a fantastic lot. A number of us have talents that might be useful somewhere else, and, so far as I can see, a number have none, but we keep the business going and beat Spaniards, French and Germans at jobs they've studied. I don't know if it's good luck or unconscious ability. However, we'll go on deck and look for the water-boat."
They went up the ladder and saw a tug steaming for the ship with a barge in tow. A few minutes afterwards the passenger Kit thought he knew crossed the deck.
"Mr. Scot?" said Kit, looking at him hard.
"I am Scot," said the other. "Met you on board the correillo. Come to the smoking-room and let's get a drink."
The smoking-room was unoccupied and they sat down in a corner. Kit thought Scot had not wanted to meet him, and was curious. The fellow talked awkwardly and the side of his face was marked by a red scar.
"You picked up my bullet," he said.
"I did," Kit admitted. "Meant to give it you back, but I forgot. Do you want the thing?"
"I'd like to know what you did with it."
"Austin got the bullet. I gave it him one evening when we were talking about Africa."
"You gave it Austin!" Scot exclaimed. "After all, perhaps, it doesn't matter. I have had enough and am not going back."
"How did you get hurt?"
"For one thing, I'd put on a cloth jacket – the evenings are pretty cold – and dark serge doesn't melt into a background of stones and sand. I imagined the tribe knew me."
"Perhaps a stranger fired the shot."
"There are no strangers about the Wady Azar. I carried an automatic pistol, but I reckoned the other fellows knew it wouldn't pay to shoot. In fact, I don't yet see why I was shot."
"The bullet was not from a smooth-bore, but a rifle," said Kit.
Scot gave him a keen glance and smiled. "Oh, well, I've had enough of Africa. Suppose we talk about something else."
Nelson and Scot talked about London until the tug's whistle blew and they ran to the gangway. The ladder was hauled up, but Kit and Nelson went down a rope to the water-boat, and as she sheered off the engineer came to the steamer's rail.
"Ye'll mind aboot the clothes when we come back," he shouted.
CHAPTER IX
KIT GIVES HIS CONFIDENCE
Campeador, bound for Teneriffe, rolled with a languid swing across the shining swell. Her slanted masts and yellow funnel flashed; her boats and deck were dazzling white, and Kit, coming out of his dark office, looked about him with half-shut eyes. When he joined the correillo he had not expected to find the Spanish crew kept her clean, but she was as smart as an English mail-boat, and Kit admitted that some of his British prejudices were not altogether justified. Now, however, she was not steaming at her proper speed. The throb of engines harmonised in a measured rhythm with the roar at the bows, but the beat was slow. Kit turned and saw Macallister watching him with a grin.
"Ye look glum," said the engineer.
"It's possible. We are late again, and I don't see how I'm to finish my business at Santa Cruz before we start for Orotava. Have your muleteer firemen got too much rum? Or did you forget to chalk the clock?"
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