Part 31 (2/2)

”It was my watch,” said Bill. ”I had just come down from the bridge-deck when I thought I heard talking, and that brought me here as quietly as I could. If I'd had the sense to take my boots off I'd have had him. I gripped him by the rail, but he shoved the knife into my hand and slung himself over.”

Austin bound his hand up, and then looked at him thoughtfully.

”I don't think there's anything to be gained by letting the others know,” he said. ”Any way, I'd consider it a favour if you said nothing about the thing until I've talked it over with Mr. Jefferson.”

Bill grinned comprehendingly. ”I'll tell Tom, but n.o.body else. We have our own little row with the vermin, and the next time I get my grip on him there'll be an end of him!”

He went out, and by and by Austin contrived to go to sleep, while it was next day, and they sat in the dripping engine room, from which the water was sinking, when he told Jefferson what had pa.s.sed. The latter listened thoughtfully, and then broke into a little hollow laugh.

”It seems to me that you missed your chance,” he said. ”Funnel-paint knows a good deal--I have guessed that for some time--but he has found out he can't get at the gum without one of us helping him, at last. That is probably why he has left us alone so long. He wasn't sure whether there was any of it on board the s.h.i.+p, and was, naturally, willing that we should decide that point for him.”

”What would he gain by that?” asked Austin.

”The gum!” and Jefferson laughed again, but not pleasantly. ”He's an inconsequent devil, but he seems to have sc.r.a.ped up a little sense as he went on with the game. You see, white men are apt to die off suddenly in this country, and I scarcely think that anybody who could make trouble knows we're here. Any way, there's no unusual need for worry. It only means double watches.”

”Still, one could fancy you had a good deal on your mind.”

”I have. We have stripped this s.h.i.+p all but the engine room to the ballast tanks--there was, you may remember, a manhole lid lifted on the forward one, which may account for some of the water getting in--and the five hundred dollars I raised the offer to hasn't produced a pound of gum. Half the men are down now, and we can't send them all away, while even if we wanted to they're most of them unwilling to go. They're as keen on their share--and it's quite a big one--as I am. Then we'll have the rains on us in a week or two.”

Austin sat silent awhile. He knew that the feverish search for the treasure had stirred the cupidity of the Latins until they were as determined on finding it as their leader. Nothing else was thought of, the sick men raved of it, and, in any case, those who had held out so long and staunchly had their percentage on the value of the steamer's hull and cargo to gain. It meant comparative affluence to the barefooted sailormen. That, however, was only one side of the question, after all, for while their willingness was evident, their physical capacity for work was lessening every day.

”The rains will flood every beach,” he said. ”If we don't find the gum before they come, what then?”

”If it's necessary, we'll stay here until the water falls again. That is, at least, some of us will.”

Austin rose up slowly with a little sign of comprehension. Two men had been buried while he was away, and he did not think that many of them would be left there to see the waters fall.

CHAPTER XXIII

FUNNEL-PAINT MOVES AGAIN

A week had slipped by since the negro's visit, and Austin and Jefferson were sitting late in the skipper's room. There had been no change in the weather, and it was then, if possible, hotter than ever. The muggy land breeze had died away, and a thick woolly mist shut the stranded steamer in. Door and ports were open wide, but the oil lamp that hung beneath the beams burned unwaveringly, and the ray of light that streamed out from the doorway made the blackness outside more apparent. The big pump was running behind the deck-house, and its deep vibratory humming rang startlingly through a stillness so intense that it seemed unnatural, as it hurled the water out of the engine room.

Austin sat huddled in a corner, attired only in duck trousers, and torn singlet which came no lower than his elbows, and, for want of b.u.t.tons, fell open at his neck. He had an unusually clean skin, and his sun-scorched lower arms and scarred hands, with the battered knuckles and broken nails, emphasised by contrast the clear whiteness of his half-covered chest. That night it was beaded with perspiration, for which he was sincerely thankful, since there are times in the tropics when the healing moisture fails to find its way through the fevered skin, and its afflicted owner burns in torment.

Jefferson sat on the little table, a blackened pipe in his hand, and the listless pose of both suggested that the last trace of energy had been sapped out of them. At last Austin laughed, hollowly and dejectedly.

”I don't know why we're sitting here saying nothing when we have to begin again at five o'clock to-morrow, but I don't feel like sleep,” he said. ”In fact, I scarcely think I've slept for more than a couple of hours at a time since I came back again. I suppose I ought to be in the forecastle now--four or five of them seemed very sick when I last looked in--but there's an abominable tension in the air that makes any exertion out of the question.”

Jefferson nodded. ”You can't do anything for them, and there's n.o.body we could spare to send with them down river,” he said. ”They've got to take their chances with the rest of us now, and it seems to me one might figure them out as three or four to one if the rains don't come. Still, if you don't want to do anything, why can't you keep still?”

”I don't know,” and Austin, who had been rolling a damp cigar in his fingers, flung it down. ”If that pump stopped I should probably make an exhibition of myself. The hum and thump it makes has a soothing effect on me. It's suggestive. Even here man has something to say. I don't know whether you understand me.”

Jefferson looked at him curiously. ”I guess I do. I'd mix myself a good strong pick-me-up if I were you. You have had something on your mind the last day or two.”

”I have,” said Austin. ”I'm afraid of that infernal Funnel-paint, I think. I can't help a fancy that we haven't done with him yet; and, though the connection isn't very apparent, the fact that the first thing we came across after landing when I came out was a dead n.i.g.g.e.r, insists on obtruding itself on my recollection. Bill told me he was singularly unpleasant to look at.”

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