Wyndham, however, did not hesitate and Flora glanced at him with quiet confidence. The moonlight touched his face and she liked his calm. One could trust Harry when there was a strain; she was proud of his pluck and steady nerve. Besides, he looked strangely handsome and virile as he controlled the plunging yacht.

When the white turmoil on the reef was close ahead she saw a break in the rocks. The gap was dark and very narrow; spouting foam played about its mouth. Wyndham signed to the fisher lad at the mainsheet, blocks rattled, and _Red Rose_, swerving, listed over until her lee deck was in the foam. Showers of spray blew across her, she was sailing very fast, and Flora knew she would soon be broken on the rocks if Wyndham missed the harbor mouth.

They drove past the reef, the long boom lurched across, and _Red Rose_ rolled violently. Dark rocks towered above her mast and the sails thrashed and filled in the conflicting gusts, but the water got smooth and the harbor opened up. Presently Marston jumped to the foot of the mast and the peak of the mainsail swung down.

"Starboard!" he shouted. "Look out for the perch!"

Flora looked under the sail and saw a tall post with iron stays running from it into the water. She wondered whether the flapping canvas hid it from Wyndham, because he was slow to move the helm.

"Starboard it is," he answered after a moment or two, leaning hard on the tiller as he pushed it across.

There was a heavy shock, something cracked and broke, and a thick iron bar ground against the yacht's side. She slowed but did not stop and when she forged ahead again Marston leaped forward.

"Bobstay's gone and bowsprit's broken at the cap!" he shouted.

"Down sail! Ready with the anchor," said Wyndham quietly.

Marston dropped the anchor under the bows, running chain rattled, and _Red Rose_ stopped. They pulled up the half-swamped dinghy and when they had thrown out the water Marston took a rope to a pier. Wyndham went forward and occupied himself with the wreck at the bows until Marston returned.

"We'll need a new bowsprit and she's drawn the stay-bolt on the stem,"

he said. "I think that's all, but it will keep us here two or three days. Perhaps you had better see if you can wake Mrs. Evans before we land the girls."

Marston pulled up the harbor and returning after a time said Mrs. Evans was getting a room ready. Flora and Mabel got on board the dinghy and when Marston rowed them to the steps Mabel remarked: "I suppose Harry couldn't see the perch?"

"He could hear me shout," said Marston. "I made noise enough. If he'd shoved his helm over, instead of looking for the perch, we'd have gone past. I don't quite understand it, because Harry's not often slow.

However, a new bowsprit doesn't cost much; the only trouble is, we'll have to stay while somebody makes it."

Flora said nothing, although she was somewhat puzzled. On the whole, she imagined Harry had not looked for the perch; the sail was in his way. He was slow to move the helm and she thought this strange. All the same, it was not important, and she talked to Mabel about the Welsh landlady as they went to the inn.

CHAPTER VI

PETERS RENEWS HIS OFFER

Red Rose remained in port for a week. Wyndham needed a stay and fastenings for the new bowsprit, and although the Welsh ship-chandler could supply him with galvanized iron articles he sent to Southampton for copper. Marston thought this curious, but Harry was fastidious about the boat and for use in salt water copper was better than iron. The party, however, was not bored. Porth Gwynedd, with its small slate houses standing between the clear, green water and the quarries that scarred the face of a hill, was picturesque. The breeze was light and warm, and sunshine sparkled on the sea. They went fishing, swam about a sheltered cove, and climbed the rocks. Wyndham's mood was cheerful and Flora was content. She thought Harry was recovering from the strain; a rest was all he needed and she was glad she had persuaded him to make the cruise.

When the new bowsprit was fitted they set off again along the coast and stopped at another rock-bound port. A summer hotel stood by a cove outside the little town, and a day or two after their arrival Marston and Wyndham lounged on the terrace by the water at the end of the lawn.

The spot was sheltered by a tall cliff, and a thick shrubbery ran between the gra.s.s and terrace. Flora and Mabel occupied a bench in a nook cut out of the thick foliage. The sun was hot, and all was very quiet but for the drowsy splash of water on the rocks and the intermittent rustle of leaves.

"I like this spot," said Flora. "I have enjoyed the cruise. There's something about the sea that soothes one."

"Do you need soothing?" Mabel asked.

Flora smiled, a rather thoughtful smile. "Not in a way. I've good grounds for being satisfied; but I had begun to get disturbed about Harry. He works too hard. No doubt he's forced to bother about his business, but he looked thin and was sometimes moody."

"He has done too much," Mabel agreed. "Bob tells me things are going remarkably well for Wyndhams'. All the same, I expect it has cost Harry some effort."

"Harry does not grudge the effort," said Flora. "I grudge it for him. It was mainly for my sake he went abroad and overtaxed his strength in an unhealthy climate in order to make Wyndhams' prosperous." She stopped and looked up, knitting her brows. "Here is the little man I saw on board the steamer! I wonder what he wants."

Mabel studied the man who crossed the lawn. She remembered that she had seen him at Flora's wedding. His face was yellow and wrinkled, and although he wore light summer clothes made in the latest English fashion there was something foreign about him. He went towards the shrubbery with quick resolute steps.

"It's Peters, somebody Bob and Harry met abroad," Mabel remarked. "No doubt he's looking for them; they're on the terrace not far off."

"It's strange, but I feel I'd sooner he hadn't come," said Flora with a frown.

The man vanished behind the shrubs and a few moments afterwards Wyndham, lighting a cigarette on the terrace, dropped the match.

"Peters!" he exclaimed.

"Hallo!" said Marston, who turned and gave the newcomer an unfriendly glance. "We didn't expect you."

Peters sat down on a bench. "All the same, I have followed you along the coast for a week. Felt I needed a change after my adventures with the exploring party, which I dare say you heard about. Business was slack, and I had a dispute with my employers. I resolved to give up my post, caught a Royal Mail boat, and here I am."

"I don't see why you followed us," said Marston, coldly.

"Then I must explain. Some time since, I suggested your giving me a partnership. The plan has some extra advantages now."

"The advantages are not very obvious," Marston rejoined.

"Let me state them," said Peters, coolly. "The back country behind the lagoon is disturbed; there are indications that the negroes and half-breeds mean to rebel and Ramon Larrinaga is resolved to put them down. It's possible he may do so, but I doubt."

"I don't know if this is much of an argument for our extending our business in the neighborhood. But why do you doubt Don Ramon's ability to keep order?"

"It's an argument for your putting a man who knows the country in control. If a rebellion breaks out, there will be opportunities for business such as one seldom gets; that is, if the situation's cleverly handled. But we'll let this go in the meantime. Larrinaga has a cunning antagonist who is much stronger than he thinks."

"You mean the Bat?"

Peters nodded. "I expect you have heard about the black Napoleon who founded a negro state in the Antilles? Well, it's not impossible the Bat will make himself as powerful as the other."

"Ridiculous!" said Marston. "Such things can't be done again; the times have changed."

"I wonder whether Wyndham thinks it ridiculous. He's better informed than you," Peters said meaningly.

Marston turned to Wyndham, but he said nothing. His face was set and he looked as if he tried to brace himself.

"You had an example of the Bat's power not long since," Peters went on.

"My exploring companions were poisoned, but not before the tropical diseases man had made some interesting discoveries. Although the swamp-belt is unhealthy, malarial fever is not so common as some people think. In fact, it does not account for all the fatal sickness."

"Yet strangers die from fever and among the half-breeds the mortality is large."

"That is so," Peters agreed. "All the same, my notion is, it's better to study Obeah than medicine, and, if you want to enjoy good health, cultivate the friendship of the Bat. He knows how to get rid of people he disapproves."

"The brute ought to be shot! However, I don't see what this has got to do with our giving you a share in our business."

"I think your partner sees," said Peters, meaningly, and Wyndham advanced a few steps with his fist clenched. His eyes shone and the veins on his forehead swelled; but when Marston thought he would seize the other he stopped a yard or two off.