Kit Musgrave's Luck. Bindloss Harold

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?"