The Coast of Adventure Part 25

The boats had gone away loaded, but they had left Don Martin and three companions on board. Father Agustin, whose rusty black ca.s.sock jarred upon the blaze of light and color, leaned back in a canvas chair with a winegla.s.s in his olive-tinted hand.

"I'm surprised to find you in such company, Father," Grahame said to him.

The priest's eyes twinkled.

"It is not only the rich and respected we are sent out to seek, though I think they need us as much as the others."

"You might find their help useful," Walthew suggested.

"True, if one could buy it! As a rule, they do not give, but sell, and the price they ask is often high."

"Some bribes are hard to resist when they are offered in the name of charity; for example, hospitals founded and new churches built," Grahame interposed. "These are things you can make good use of."

Father Agustin looked at him steadily.

"An honest man does not take a bribe, as you, my son, should know," he said.

"Ah!" Grahame returned carelessly. "I did not think you had heard of--a certain affair."

Walthew gave him a surprised glance, but Father Agustin smiled.

"I hear many curious things. Besides, my companions take precautions.

Sometimes they find them needed."

"I suppose if I had done what I was asked and pocketed the reward, I should have met with an accident shortly afterward?" Grahame suggested.

"One does not talk of such matters, senor, among trusted friends," one of the men interposed.

"Your intelligence department seems to be well organized, but there's ground for believing the opposition's is quite as good," Grahame said, and related what had happened at their last port.

"Care will be needed after this," said Don Martin. "Now that they know your boat, it is fortunate we changed the landing place; but you are safe here. This coast is low and unhealthy; the President's friends are prosperous and do not live in the swampy jungle."

"One can understand that," Grahame responded. "Your appeal is to those who must live how and where they can. No doubt, they suffer now and then for helping you."

"Ah!" exclaimed one of the Spaniards, "_how_ they suffer! If you give me leave, senores, I can tell you startling things."

They listened with quickening interest, and he kept his promise well, for there is in southern peoples, contaminated by darker blood, a vein of sensual cruelty that sometimes leads to the perpetration of unutterable horrors. Grahame's face grew quietly stern, Walthew's hot and flushed, and Macallister clenched his hand, for the tales they heard fired their blood.

"You have told us enough," Walthew said at last. "I went into this business because I was looking for adventure and wanted to make some money--but I mean to see it through if it costs me all I have!" He turned to his comrades. "How do you feel about it?"

"Much as you do," Grahame answered quietly, and Macallister put his hand on Sarmiento's arm.

"I'm with ye, if ye mean to make a clean sweep o' yon brutes."

"I believe their reckoning will come, but our bargain stands," said Don Martin. "We need arms, and will pay for all you bring. Still, I am glad your hearts are with us. It is sentiment that carries one farthest."

"How have you been getting on since we last met?" Walthew asked.

"We make progress, though there are difficulties. One must fight with the purse as well as the sword, and the dictator's purse is longer than ours. Of late, he has been getting money and spending it with a free hand."

"Do you know where he gets it?" Grahame asked thoughtfully.

"So far, we have not found out. But it is foreign money, and he must give what belongs to the country in exchange."

"An easy plan!" Walthew said. "Makes the country pay for keeping him in power. I guess you'll have to meet the bill when you get in."

"That is so," Don Martin agreed. "It forces our hand. We must get in before he leaves us no resources at all."

Grahame thought of Cliffe, and wondered about his business with Gomez; but he decided to say nothing of this.

"Is Castillo still at liberty?" he asked.

"He is watched, but we have been able to protect him. A man of pa.s.sion and fervor who will rouse the people when the right time comes."

"But perhaps not a good plotter?"

Father Agustin gave Grahame a shrewd glance.

"We do not all possess your northern self-restraint, though one admits its value. Senor Castillo follows a poetical ideal."

"So I imagined. Cold conviction sometimes leads one farther."

They were silent for a minute or two, and then one said:

"We have been anxious about Castillo. It is not that we doubt his sincerity."

"You doubt his staying power?"

Father Agustin made an a.s.senting gesture.

"Our friend is ardent, but a fierce fire soon burns out. The danger is that when warmth is needed there may be no fuel left."

"I think you should try to guard him from pressure he is unfit to stand," Grahame suggested. "One cannot always choose one's tools, but if you are careful he may last until his work is done."

"It is so," Father Agustin agreed. "One loves the ring of fine, true steel, but it is fortunate that metal of softer temper has its use, though it sometimes needs skillful handling."

"He kens!" exclaimed Macallister. "Ye may rake stuff that will serve ye weel from the sc.r.a.p heap o' humanity, and there's times when it's a comfort to remember that. But I'm surprised to find ye meddling with politics."

"I am not a politician; it is not permitted. But I may hate injustice, and there is no canon that bids me support what is evil. I came here as your guest with other friends, and if they honor me with their confidence I cannot refuse; nor do I think it a grave offense to give them a word of advice."

"Good advice may prove more dangerous to their enemies than rifles,"

Grahame said.

Father Agustin mused for a few moments.

"Our friends' real task begins with their triumph," he said gravely; "for that, at best, can but mean a clearing of the ground. Man builds slowly, but to destroy is easy, and many see no farther."

"But when the building is tottering and rotten?"