"There's one of your men below who has been drinking too much cana," he said. "You had better look after him."

"But they are all here," the bandmaster answered, glancing round the p.o.o.p.

"The man had a flute."

"But we have no flute-player."

"Then he must have been a pa.s.senger," said d.i.c.k, who hurried to the gangway.

After hailing his fireman to bring the launch alongside, he threw a quick glance about. The sh.o.r.e boatmen were pushing their craft abreast of the ladder and shouting as they got in each other's way, but one boat had already left the ship and was pulling fast towards the harbor. There seemed to be only one man on board besides her crew, and d.i.c.k had no doubt that he was the flute-player. He must be followed, since it was important to find out whom he met and if, as d.i.c.k suspected, he meant to send off a telegram. But the liner's captain must be warned, and d.i.c.k turned hastily around. The windla.s.s was rattling and the bridge, on which he could see the captain's burly figure, was some distance off, while the pa.s.sage between the gangway and deckhouse was blocked by the departing guests.

The anchor would probably be up before he could push his way through the crowd, and if he was not carried off to sea, he would certainly lose sight of the spy. Writing a line or two on the leaf of his pocket-book, he tore it out and held it near a Creole steward boy.

"Take that to the sobrecargo at once," he cried, and seeing the boy stoop to pick up the note, which fell to the deck, ran down the ladder.

He had, however, to wait a minute while the fireman brought the launch alongside between the other boats, and when they pushed off Don Sebastian, scrambling across one of the craft, jumped on board. He smiled when d.i.c.k looked at him with annoyed surprise.

"I think my business is yours, but there is no time for explanations," he said. "Tell your man to go full speed."

The launch quivered and leaped ahead with the foam curling at her bows, and d.i.c.k did not look round when he heard an expostulating shout. Jake and Bethune must get ash.o.r.e as they could; his errand was too important to stop for them, particularly as he could no longer see the boat in front. She had crossed the glittering belt of moonlight and vanished into the shadow near the mole. Her occupant had had some minutes' start and had probably landed, but it might be possible to find out where he had gone.

"Screw the valve wide open," d.i.c.k told the fireman.

The rattle of the engine quickened a little, the launch lifted her bows, and her stern sank into the hollow of a following wave. When she steamed up the harbor a boat lay near some steps, and as the launch slackened speed d.i.c.k asked her crew which way their pa.s.senger had gone.

"Up the mole, senor," one answered breathlessly.

"It is all you will learn from them," Don Sebastian remarked. "I think we will try the _telegrafia_ first."

There was no time for questions and d.i.c.k jumped out as the launch ran alongside the steps. Don Sebastian stopped him when he reached the top.

"In Santa Brigida, n.o.body runs unless there is an earthquake or a revolution. We do not want people to follow us."

d.i.c.k saw the force of this and started for the telegraph office, walking as fast as possible. When he looked round, his companion had vanished, but he rejoined him on the steps of the building. They went in together and found n.o.body except a languid clerk leaning on a table. Don Sebastian turned to d.i.c.k and said in English, "It will be better if you leave this matter to me."

d.i.c.k noted that the clerk suddenly became alert when he saw his companion, but he waited at a few yards' distance and Don Sebastian said: "A man came in not long since with a telegram. He was short and very dark and probably signed the form Vinoles."

"He did, senor," said the clerk.

"Very well. I want to see the message before it is sent."

"It has gone, senor, three or four minutes ago."

Don Sebastian made a gesture of resignation, spreading out his hands.

"Then bring me the form."

d.i.c.k thought it significant that the clerk at once obeyed, but Don Sebastian, who stood still for a moment, turned to him.

"It is as I thought," he said in English, and ordered the clerk: "Take us into the manager's room."

The other did so, and after shutting the door withdrew. Don Sebastian threw the form on the table.

"It seems we are too late," he said.

CHAPTER XXV

THE WATER-PIPE

d.i.c.k sat down and knitted his brows as he studied his companion. Don Sebastian was a Peninsular Spaniard and in consequence of a finer type than the majority of the inhabitants of Santa Brigida. d.i.c.k, who thought he could confide in him, needed help, but the matter was delicate. In the meantime, the other waited with a smile that implied that he guessed his thoughts, until d.i.c.k, leaning forward with sudden resolution, picked up the telegram, which was written in cipher.

"This is probably a warning to somebody that the vessel will not call at the ports in the advertised order," he said.

"I imagine so. You guessed the captain's plan from what you heard outside the room?"

"Not altogether, but it gave me a hint. It looks as if you recognized me when I was standing near the lifeboat."

"I did," said Don Sebastian meaningly. "I think I showed my confidence in you."

d.i.c.k nodded, because it was plain that the other had enabled him to go away without being questioned.

"Very well; I'll tell you what I know," he said, and related how he had found the man with the flute loitering about the purser's door. As he finished, Don Sebastian got up.

"You made one mistake; you should have given your note to an Englishman and not a young Creole lad. However, we must see if the steamer can be stopped."

He led the way up a staircase to the flat roof, where d.i.c.k ran to the parapet. Looking across the town, he saw in the distance a dim white light and a long smear of smoke that trailed across the glittering sea.

He frowned as he watched it, for the ship was English and he felt himself responsible for the safety of all on board her. He had done his best, when there was no time to pause and think, but perhaps he had blundered.

Suppose the Creole boy had lost his note or sent it to somebody ash.o.r.e?

"We are too late again," Don Sebastian remarked as he sat down on the parapet. "Well, one must be philosophical. Things do not always go as one would wish."

"Why didn't you warn the captain that his plan was found out, instead of jumping into the launch?" d.i.c.k asked angrily.

Don Sebastian smiled. "Because I did not know. I saw a man steal down the ladder and thought he might be a spy, but could not tell how much he had learned. If he had learned nothing, it would have been dangerous for the captain to change his plan again and keep to the sailing list."

"That's true," d.i.c.k agreed shortly. His chin was thrust forward and his head slightly tilted back. He looked very English and aggressive as he resumed: "But I want to know what your interest in the matter is."

"Then I must tell you. To begin with, I am employed by the Government and am in the President's confidence. The country is poor and depends for its development on foreign capital, while it is important that we should have the support and friendship of Great Britain and the United States.

Perhaps you know the latter's jealousy about European interference in American affairs?"

d.i.c.k nodded. "You feel you have to be careful. But how far can a country go in harboring a belligerent's agents and supplying her fighting ships, without losing its neutrality?"

"That is a difficult question," Don Sebastian replied. "I imagine the answer depends upon the temper of the interested country's diplomatic representatives; but the President means to run no risks. We cannot, for example, have it claimed that we allowed a foreign power to buy a coaling station and use it as a base for raids on merchant ships."

"Have the Germans bought the Adexe wharf?"