Brandon of the Engineers

"I suppose it's Señor Fuller's coal in the barges, and we're badly in

want of it," he said. "As you have steam up, you'll start soon."

"We start, yes," answered the skipper, who spoke some English, and then

paused and shrugged. "I do not know if we get to Santa Brigida to-night."

"Why?" Dick asked. "There's not very much wind, and it's partly off the

land."

The half-breed engineer described in uncouth Castilian the difficulties

he had had with a defective pump and leaking glands, and Dick, who did

not understand much of it, went back to his launch. Stopping the craft a

short distance from the harbor, he said to Jake: "We'll wait until they

start. Somehow I don't think they meant to leave to-night if I hadn't

turned them out."

Jake looked to windward. There was a moon in the sky, which was, however,

partly obscured by driving clouds. The breeze was strong, but, blowing

obliquely off the land did not ruffle the sea much near the beach. A long

swell, however, worked in, and farther out the white tops of the combers

glistened in the moonlight. Now and then a fresher gust swept off the

shadowy coast and the water frothed in angry ripples about the launch.

"They ought to make Santa Brigida, though they'll find some sea running

when they reach off-shore to go round the Tajada reef," he remarked.

"There's water enough through the inside channel."

"That's so," Jake agreed. "Still, it's narrow and bad to find in the

dark, and I expect the skipper would sooner go outside." Then he glanced

astern and said, "They're coming out."

Two white lights, one close above the other, with a pale red glimmer

below, moved away from the wharf. Behind them three or four more

twinkling red spots appeared, and Dick told the fireman to start the

engine half-speed. Steering for the beach, he followed the fringe of

surf, but kept abreast of the tug, which held to a course that would take

her round the end of the reef.

When the moon shone through he could see her plunge over the steep swell

and the white wash at the lighters' bows as they followed in her wake;

then as a cloud drove past, their dark hulls faded and left nothing but a

row of tossing lights. By and by the launch reached a bend in the

coastline and the breeze freshened and drew more ahead. The swell began

to break and showers of spray blew on board, while the sea got white

off-shore.

"We'll get it worse when we open up the Arenas bight," said Jake as he

glanced at the lurching tug. "It looks as if the skipper meant to give

the reef a wide berth. He's swinging off to starboard. Watch his smoke."