Clare smiled as she sat down. "Yes; you are not to blame. Indeed, I do not see why you should apologize."

"Well," said d.i.c.k, "I hoped that I might meet you, though I feared you would sooner I did not. When I saw you on the ladder, I felt I ought to steal away, but must confess that I was glad when I found it was too late. Somehow, things seem to bring us into opposition. They have done so from the beginning."

"You're unnecessarily frank," Clare answered with a blush. "Since you couldn't steal away, wouldn't it have been better not to hint that I was anxious to avoid you? After all, I could have done so if I had really wanted."

"I expect that's true. Of course what happened when we last met couldn't trouble you as it troubled me."

"Are you trying to be tactful now?" Clare asked, smiling.

"No; it's my misfortune that I haven't much tact. If I had, I might be able to straighten matters out."

"Don't you understand that they can't be straightened out?"

"I don't," d.i.c.k answered stubbornly. "For all that, I won't trouble you again until I find a way out of the tangle."

Clare gave him a quick, disturbed look. "It would be much better if you took it for granted that we must, to some extent, be enemies."

"No. I'm afraid your father and I are enemies, but that's not the same."

"It is; you can see that it must be," Clare insisted; and then, as if anxious to change the subject, went on: "He was too busy to bring me to-night so I came with Don Sebastian and his wife. It is not very gay in Santa Brigida and one gets tired of being alone."

Her voice fell a little as she concluded, and d.i.c.k, who understood something of her isolation from friends of her race, longed to take her in his arms and comfort her. Indeed, had the quarter-deck been deserted he might have tried, for he felt that her refusal had sprung from wounded pride and a sense of duty. There was something in her manner that hinted that it had not been easy to send him away. Yet he saw she could be firm and thought it wise to follow her lead.

"Then your father has been occupied lately," he remarked.

"Yes; he is often away. He goes to Adexe and is generally busy in the evenings. People come to see him and keep him talking in his room. Our friends no longer spend the evening in the patio."

d.i.c.k understood her. She wanted to convince him that Kenwardine was a business man and only gambled when he had nothing else to do. Indeed, her motive was rather pitifully obvious, and d.i.c.k knew that he had not been mistaken about her character. Clare had, no doubt, once yielded to her father's influence, but it was impossible that she took any part in his plots. She was transparently honest; he knew this as he watched her color come and go.

"After all, I don't think you liked many of the people who came," he said.

"I liked Jake," she answered and stopped with a blush, while d.i.c.k felt half ashamed, because he had deprived her of the one companion she could trust.

"Well," he said, "it isn't altogether my fault that Jake doesn't come to see you. We have had some accidents that delayed the work and he has not been able to leave the dam."

He was silent for the next few minutes. Since Clare was eager to defend Kenwardine, she might be led to tell something about his doings from which a useful hint could be gathered, and d.i.c.k greatly wished to know who visited his house on business. Still, it was impossible that he should make the girl betray her father. The fight was between him and Kenwardine, and Clare must be kept outside it. With this resolve, he began to talk about the dancing, and soon afterward Jake came up and asked Clare for the next waltz. She smiled and gave d.i.c.k a challenging glance.

"Certainly," he said with a bow, and then turned to Jake. "As Miss Kenwardine has been put in my charge, you must bring her back."

Jake grinned as he promised and remarked as they went away: "Makes a good duena, doesn't he? You can trust d.i.c.k to guard anything he's told to take care of. In fact, if I'd a sister I wanted to leave in safe hands----" He paused and laughed. "But that's the trouble. It was my sister who told him to take care of me."

d.i.c.k did not hear Clare's reply, but watched her dance until Don Sebastian's wife came up. After that he went away, and presently strolled along the highest deck. This was narrower than the others, but was extended as far as the side of the ship by beams on which the boats were stowed. There were no rails, for pa.s.sengers were not allowed up there; but d.i.c.k, who was preoccupied and moody, wanted to be alone. The moon had now risen above the mountains and the sea glittered between the sh.o.r.e and the ship. Looking down, he saw a row of boats rise and fall with the languid swell near her tall side, and the flash of the surf that washed the end of the mole. Then, taking out a cigarette, he strolled towards the captain's room, which stood behind the bridge, and stopped near it in the shadow of a big lifeboat.

The room was lighted, and the door and windows were half open because the night was hot. Carelessly glancing in, d.i.c.k saw Don Sebastian sitting at the table with the captain and engineer. This somewhat surprised him, for the purser transacted the ship's business and, so far as he knew, none of the other guests had been taken to the captain's room. He felt puzzled about Don Sebastian, whom he had met once or twice. The fellow had an air of authority and the smaller officials treated him with respect.

Something in the men's att.i.tude indicated that they were talking confidentially, and d.i.c.k thought he had better go away without attracting their attention; but just then the captain turned in his chair and looked out. d.i.c.k decided to wait until he looked round again, and next moment Don Sebastian asked: "Have you plenty coal?"

"I think so," the engineer replied. "The after-bunkers are full, but I'd have taken a few extra barge-loads here only I didn't want any of the sh.o.r.e peons to see how much I'd already got."

d.i.c.k did not understand this, because coal was somewhat cheaper and the facilities for shipping it were better at the boat's next port of call, to which it was only a two-days' run. Then the captain, who turned to Don Sebastian, remarked:

"Making the sailing list prominent was a happy thought, and it was lucky your friends backed us up well by their speeches. You saw how I took advantage of the lead they gave me, but I hope we haven't overdone the thing."

"No," said Don Sebastian thoughtfully; "I imagine n.o.body suspects anything yet."

"Perhaps you had better clear the ship soon, sir," said the engineer.

"Steam's nearly up and it takes some coal----"

The room door slipped off its hook and swung wide open as the vessel rolled, and d.i.c.k, who could not withdraw unnoticed, decided to light his cigarette in order that the others might see that they were not alone. As he struck the match the captain got up.

"Who's that?" he asked.

"One of the foreign pa.s.sengers, I expect; the mates can't keep them off this deck," the engineer replied. "I don't suppose the fellow knows English, but shall I send him down?"

"I think not. It might look as if we were afraid of being overheard."

d.i.c.k held the match to his cigarette for a moment or two before he threw it away, and as he walked past noted that Don Sebastian had come out on deck. Indeed, he thought the man had seen his face and was satisfied, because he turned back into the room. d.i.c.k went down a ladder to the deck below, where he stopped and thought over what he had heard. It was plain that some precautions had been taken against the risk of capture, but he could not understand why Don Sebastian had been told about them.

By and by he thought he would speak to the purser, whom he knew, and went down the alleyway that led to his office. The door was hooked back, but the pa.s.sage was narrow and a fat Spanish lady blocked the entrance. She was talking to the purser and d.i.c.k saw that he must wait until she had finished. A man stood a few yards behind her, uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g a flute, and as a folded paper that looked like music stuck out of his pocket he appeared to belong to the band.

"But it is Tuesday you arrive at Palomas!" the lady exclaimed.

"About then," the purser answered in awkward Castilian. "We may be a little late."

"But how much late?"

"I cannot tell. Perhaps a day or two."

"At dinner the captain said----"

"Just so. But he was speaking generally without knowing all the arrangements."

d.i.c.k could not see into the office, but heard the purser open a drawer and shuffle some papers, as if he wanted to get rid of his questioner.

"It is necessary that I know when we arrive," the lady resumed. "If it is not Tuesday, I must send a telegram."

The purser shut the drawer noisily, but just then a bell rang overhead and the whistle blew to warn the visitors that they must go ash.o.r.e.

"Then you must be quick," said the purser. "Write your message here and give it to me. You need not be disturbed. We will land you at Palomas."

The lady entered the office, but d.i.c.k thought her telegram would not be sent, and a moment later the captain's plan dawned on him. The ship would call at the ports named, but not in the order stated, and this was why she needed so much coal. She would probably steam first to the port farthest off and then work backward, and the sailing list was meant to put the raider off the track. The latter's commander, warned by spies who would send him the list, would think he knew where to find the vessel at any particular date, when, however, she would be somewhere else. Then d.i.c.k wondered why the musician was hanging about, and went up to him.

"The sobrecargo's busy," he said in English. "You'll be taken to sea unless you get up on deck."

"I no wanta el sobrecargo," the man replied in a thick, stupid voice.

"The music is thirsty; I wanta drink."

The second-cla.s.s bar was farther down the alleyway, and d.i.c.k, indicating it, turned back and made his way to the p.o.o.p as fast as he could, for he did not think the man was as drunk as he looked. He found the musicians collecting their stands, and went up to the bandmaster.