When she left him, Walthew found Grahame alone in the hotel lounge.

"I promised to let you know whether the malaria would send me home or not," he said. "I've made up my mind to see the business through."

Grahame grasped his hand cordially.

"I don't know that you are wise, old man; but I am glad to have you, just the same." He gave Walthew a whimsical look. "Haven't you come to a decision rather suddenly?"

"That doesn't matter," said Walthew, "I mean to stick to it."

CHAPTER XII

BAITING THE SMUGGLERS

It was late, and the dew was heavy. Macallister's thin clothes were getting damp as he walked impatiently up and down the mole. The _Enchantress's_ gig lay near the steps, but her crew had not arrived, although Macallister had waited half an hour for them. This by no means pleased him, because, while not a tyrant, he expected his orders to be obeyed. Besides, he resented the ingrat.i.tude of the men. He had agreed with Grahame that it was prudent to moor the _Enchantress_ out in the harbor and keep the crew short of money. They had behaved well, and during the afternoon Macallister had given them a few pesetas and allowed them a run ash.o.r.e, although he imagined he had kept within a limit that would ensure their sobriety.

They had, however, not returned, and he felt disturbed as he watched the twinkling anchor-lights and the ripples flash in the silvery track the moon cast across the water. Boats were coming and going, and when one approached the landing Macallister drew back into the shadow. He had made the acquaintance of the captain and the engineer of the vessel from which the boat came, and he did not want to be found waiting for his unpunctual crew. The footsteps of those who landed were growing faint when he heard singing farther up the mole. The voice was unsteady, and the patter of bare feet that accompanied it suggestively uneven.

Macallister knew the song, and was not surprised that his men, who were obviously coming back the worse for liquor, should show a taste for good music, for this is common among Spanish-Americans. It was, however, difficult to understand how they had made the money he had given them go so far.

"Where kept ye, ye drunken swine?" he asked when they lurched into sight.

"No savvy," answered his fireman, Pepe, and Macallister explained what he thought of them in the most virulent epithets used along the Clyde.

This relieved his feelings and satisfied his sense of discipline, but he did not think it wise to translate his remarks: Spanish half-breeds have fiery tempers and carry knives.

"Get into the boat before I kick ye off the mole!" he concluded when he was breathless, and the men clumsily obeyed, though one came near to falling into the water. They had some trouble in getting out the oars, but at last they rowed away. Macallister noted that one man placed a small cane basket under a thwart, and he suspected what was inside.

When they reached the _Enchantress_ he was first on deck, but he waited by the gangway until the man who carried the basket climbed up.

Macallister held out his hand for the basket, and when the fellow gave it to him confidingly he hurried aft to examine it by the engine lamp.

It contained two bottles of _anisado_, a spirit flavored with aniseed in favor in Spanish countries. He felt tempted to throw them overboard, but refrained because such waste went against the grain, and the liquor might be doled out when the men had been forced to work unusually hard.

He imagined they had forgotten the matter, and was lighting his pipe when he heard them coming, and stepped out of the engine-room to meet them.

"There was a small basket, senor," one said civilly, though his voice was thick.

"It is possible you dropped it overboard," Macallister suggested in his best Castilian--which was very bad.

"No, senor. One does not drop such baskets over."

"What was in it, then?"

The man was obviously not sober, but it looked as if he had not lost his senses.

"A small present to me and the others, Don Andres. You will give it back to us."

"No," said Macallister sternly. "Presents of that kind are not allowed on board this ship."

He watched them while they murmured together. They were active, wiry fellows, obedient as a rule, but liable to pa.s.sionate outbreaks, like most of their mixed race. Now they looked drunkenly determined, and he knew the strength of his fireman, Pepe.

"The basket is ours," said one. "We will take it."

"I think not," said Macallister shortly. "Stand back!"

Their half-respectful mood changed in a flash and they came at him with a rush. They could wrestle and use the knife, and Macallister knew that Pepe, who came first, must be stopped. He supposed that Miguel, whom he had left on board, was asleep; but to summon help would be subversive of authority and the affair would be over before Miguel arrived. Lunging forward, he put the weight of his body into his blow, and Pepe reeled when it landed on his jaw. Before he could recover, Macallister sprang upon him, and with a strenuous effort flung him backward through the gangway.

There was a splash in the water and the others stopped, daunted by the vigor of the attack; but Pepe did not strike out for the gig as Macallister expected. Indeed, for there was shadow along the vessel's side, he did not seem to come up, and after a moment's pause Macallister jumped into the sea. The water closed above him, but when he rose a white-clad figure was struggling feebly near by and he seized it. Pepe seemed unable to swim, and Macallister had some trouble in dragging him to the gig, into which the others had jumped. They pulled both men out of the water, and in another few minutes Macallister stood, dripping, on board the _Enchantress_, sternly regarding his fireman. The shock had apparently sobered him, and the others, with the instability of their kind, had become suddenly docile.

"Now," said Macallister, "where did you get the _anisado_?"

"A gentleman gave it to us in a cafe."

Macallister shook his head.

"Try again! A gentleman does not give drunken sailors bottles of liquor."

"We were not drunk then," one of them answered navely. "And he was a gentleman: he spoke Castilian like the Peninsulares."

"Ah," said Macallister thoughtfully, for the use of good Peninsular Spanish indicates a man of education. "So he gave you all some wine and put the bottles in the basket!"

"It was so, Don Andres," another answered with a readiness that invited belief.

"But why?"

"Who can tell?" Pepe rejoined. "Perhaps the senor was generous; then he said he liked sailors and tales of the sea."

"You told him some, no doubt," Macallister remarked dryly.

"We did, Don Andres. Herman told him of the great shark that bites off the fishermen's oars at Punta Anagan, and I about the ghost _caravela_ that beats to windward in Jaurez Strait."

"And what else?"

Pepe shook his head.

"Then there was some cognac and afterward--I do not remember."

"Get below, except the anchor-watch!" Macallister said sternly. "We'll consider what's to be done with you to-morrow."

They slouched away, and while Macallister was talking to Miguel a splash of oars grew louder, and presently Grahame clambered up from a sh.o.r.e boat. He heard what had happened and then, sitting down, thoughtfully lighted his pipe.

"You must see what this points to," he remarked.

"It's no' difficult. Somebody has made the wasters drunk, and I ken what sea stories he would start them telling. A _gran senor_, they said!"

"One of President Altiera's spies! But why do you think he gave them the _anisado_ afterward?"