Kit Musgrave's Luck
Mrs. Austin knew the Spanish manager was satisfied and meant him to stop.
"All the same, you like your job?" she said.
"For the most part, but one gets some jars. Recently we have been buying onions. A ship is going to Cuba, the freight is low, and Havana merchants give a good price for onions, but the peons who grow them in the mountains know nothing about this. They have got a big crop that nobody wants to buy and the price has fallen to a very small sum. The poor folks are a remarkably frugal, industrious lot."
"I don't know a country with finer peasants," Mrs. Austin agreed. "Still, if they're willing to sell you the onions, why should you not buy?"
"We are buying too cheap."
Mrs. Austin turned to Jefferson. "Mr. Musgrave puzzles me. He grumbles because he's buying onions too cheap."
"Let him state his case," said Jefferson.
"I'll try. Our plan's like this," said Kit. "At daybreak Campeador steams up to a beach from which cargo can be shipped. Don Erminio and I get horses and go off to the hills, where nobody knows about the steamer. Don Erminio stops at a village wine shop and plays the guitar while I talk to the peons. They're an unsophisticated lot with the manners of fine gentlemen, and live on maize, bananas, and goat's milk cheese. Yet, for all their poverty, I must eat membrillo jelly and drink a cup of wine before we get to business. They have stacks of onions, and at Havana onions are short, but the peons don't know and my job's to buy their crop very cheap. The worst is, the fellows are grateful and try to make us a feast. If they got half the sum their goods are worth, they'd be rich. It's rather like robbing a trustful child."
"I am a merchant's daughter and doubt if I ought to sympathise," said Mrs. Austin. "To buy at the lowest price the seller will take is a sound business plan. Were you not a business man at Liverpool?"
"At Liverpool nobody I knew made a profit of a hundred per cent," Kit rejoined. "The thing's not honest; besides, one feels it's not sound."
Jefferson laughed. "On the whole, I reckon Musgrave's justified. You can fool people once or twice; you can't fool them all the time. When they find you out, they charge you double or sell to another."
Kit looked at Olivia. She was talking to two or three young men and the position of their chairs would make it awkward for him to join the group. Moreover, he imagined Mrs. Austin had not meant him to do so. By and by he looked at his watch.
"I must go. It's later than I thought, and I've got to stop at the Carsegarry."
"You said you were not going to the ball."
"I'm not going to dance. We sail at ten o'clock and I must get Macallister and Don Erminio on board."
"Then I allow you have undertaken something of a job," Jefferson remarked.
"That is so," Kit agreed. "The last time I went for them I got rather damaged and they tore my clothes. Don Erminio's excitable and Macallister is big. All the same, somebody must go. Don Ramon at the office is patient, but I've known him firm. After all, he's accountable, and we carry the Spanish mail."
He went off and Mrs. Austin laughed. "Kit's naïve, but I like him. He's a good sort."
Olivia sent off the young men and stopped for a moment by her sister's chair.
"Kit Musgrave is a very good sort, but his luck is to get a knock-about part."
"One's luck turns," said Jefferson. "If Musgrave gets another part, I reckon he'll play up."
Olivia went into the house and Mrs. Austin said to Jefferson: "If Harry has finished his writing, bring him to me."
When Jefferson went for Austin she knitted her brows. Kit was obviously attracted by Olivia and Mrs. Austin did not approve, although in other ways she meant to be his friend. She had married a poor man, and rousing him to use his talent, had helped him to get rich; but she doubted if Kit had much talent. Moreover, she had qualities Olivia had not, and Kit was not like Harry.
Mrs. Austin did not know about Olivia. She thought her sister saw Kit's drawbacks, but the tourists only stopped for a few months in the winter, and for the most part, the coaling and banana men were dull. In fact, Mrs. Austin resolved to run no risk.
When Jefferson returned with Austin she said, "You work too long, Harry. You began this morning as soon as you got up."
"I'm forced to work," Austin replied. "Since Jake and I started the African business I'm pretty closely occupied. For one thing, he won't write the English letters, and my Spanish clerks can't."
"Viñoles speaks good English."
"That is so," Austin said with a smile. "You speak good Castilian, but to write a foreign language is another thing. In fact, I remember a note of yours that embarrassed a sober Spanish gentleman. Anyhow, Viñoles' method of addressing an English merchant house is, Señor Don Bought of Thomas Dash."
"What about engaging an English clerk?"
Austin shook his head. "The experiment's risky. When the pay's not large, you must get them young and don't know your luck until they arrive. Some come out for adventure – I imagine these are worst – and some come to loaf. If Musgrave wanted another job, I might engage him."
"I think not," said Mrs. Austin firmly. "Why not try an English business girl? She wouldn't lose her pay at the casino and borrow from you. She wouldn't make disturbances at cock-fights."
"It might work," Austin replied. "In fact, I begin to see where I'm being gently led. I expect you know a candidate, but she mustn't be pretty. Modern business has nothing to do with romance."
"The girl I thought about is a friend of Musgrave's."
"Ah!" said Austin, with a twinkle, "the plot thickens!"
"Now you're ridiculous!" Mrs. Austin rejoined. "Anyhow, my plan has some advantages."
She indicated the advantages and enlarged upon Betty's business talents, about which Kit had not said much. When Mrs. Austin felt her cause was good she was not fastidious. Moreover, she knew her husband and Jefferson, and felt she was on firm ground when she drew a moving picture of Betty's struggle against failing health and poverty. It counted for much that Muriel Jefferson could not stand the winter in the North. When she stopped Jefferson glanced at Austin.
"Perhaps we might risk it. Muriel would look after the girl."
Austin agreed and Mrs. Austin let them go. Her plans had worked, but she was not altogether selfish. She liked to help people and thought Betty needed help. In the meantime, however, Kit must not know; she would write to Mrs. Musgrave, for when Kit gave her the letter she had noted where his mother lived. Mrs. Austin's habit was to note things like that. So far, the scheme went well, but she had not gone far enough. After all, Betty had refused Kit and the correillo stopped at Las Palmas for three or four days every two weeks. Betty would be occupied by her business duties, but Olivia had none. Mrs. Austin admitted that her supposition about the girl's grounds for refusing Kit might not be accurate, and imagined a longer voyage for Kit was indicated. By and by Wolf entered the veranda and she saw a plan. Yet she hesitated. She had no logical grounds for doubting Wolf, but she did doubt him.
"Mr. Scot, whom you sent home after his injury, has not come back," she said presently.
Wolf said he did not think Scot would come back, and waited.
"Are you not embarrassed without him?"
"To some extent," Wolf replied. "I can't, however, go to England, and to engage a young man you haven't seen is risky. Then I don't know a coaling clerk I'd care to hire."
"But you do want help?"
Wolf agreed and Mrs. Austin looked thoughtful.
"Perhaps it's lucky, because I'd like to get Mr. Musgrave a good post. I expect you know I'm a meddler and managing people's affairs is my habit."
"I know you are kind and a number of people owe you much," Wolf replied.
Mrs. Austin gave him a gracious smile. "Well, I really think Mr. Musgrave is the man you want. He's honest and resolute, and although I don't know if he's very clever, he's not a fool."
Wolf thought his luck was good. He did want a resolute young man, but did not want him clever, and had for some time thought about Kit. Then he had an object for satisfying Mrs. Austin, who did not disown her debts.
"Well," he said, "I imagine I could give Musgrave a post he'd be willing to take. In fact, when my schooner comes back from Africa I'll probably send for him – "
He stopped and Mrs. Austin waited with quiet amusement. She knew Wolf did nothing for nothing.
"Señor Ramirez arrived from Madrid a few days since," he resumed. "I understand Don Arturo comes from Liverpool by the next boat. I would like to meet them."
"But this ought not to be difficult."
"In a way, not at all difficult. One can go to a public function and, if one is lucky, talk for a few minutes to the honoured guest, who forgets one immediately afterwards. There is not much use in this; but to meet an important man at a friend's house is another thing."
Mrs. Austin pondered. Ramirez was a Spanish officer of high rank and came to the Canaries now and then on the government's business. Don Arturo had invested much money in the islands and West Africa. Austin knew both gentlemen and Wolf wanted to meet them at her house. It looked as if he knew Ramirez was going to dine with Austin. On the whole, Mrs. Austin did not want to indulge him, and imagined Austin would not approve. Yet Wolf had promised to give Kit a post.
"Why do you want to meet Señor Ramirez?" she asked.
"I rather think it's obvious. The Spaniards are jealous about the Rio de Oro belt, and I am a foreigner. There are rules about trading with the Berbers that stand in my way. A quiet talk to Ramirez might help me much, and I imagine he would be interested."
Jacinta saw something must be risked, and after all Ramirez knew men. He would not take Wolf's honesty for granted because he was her friend.
"Very well," she said. "Señor Ramirez will dine with us one evening, and I will tell you when the time is fixed. I don't know about Don Arturo yet."
"You are very kind," said Wolf. "I had meant to send for Musgrave, but now I feel I must use an extra effort to give him a good post."
He went off and soon afterwards Mrs. Austin told Austin, who frowned.
"I don't know if I altogether approved the fellow's coming to the veranda, but this didn't imply much; his coming to dinner does."
"He promised he'd give Kit a post," Mrs. Austin replied.
Austin looked at her rather hard.
"You might have helped Musgrave at a cheaper cost. However, one doesn't cheat Ramirez easily and so long as you are satisfied – "
"Do you imagine Wolf will try to cheat him?"
"It's possible," said Austin dryly.
Mrs. Austin laughed. "Anyhow, Ramirez is just and won't make you accountable. Besides, if he is cheated, Wolf is cleverer than I think."
CHAPTER XI
THE PLANS WORK
Dinner was over, the night was hot, and Mrs. Austin had taken her party to the veranda. Wolf had gone; he declared he could not put off another engagement, but Mrs. Austin wondered. The fellow was clever and knew when to stop. A man like that did not go farther than was necessary and risk losing ground he had won. All the same, Mrs. Austin was satisfied. She had paid her debt, and although she had hesitated about asking Wolf, she now felt her doing so was justified. He had interested her famous guests; the dinner party had gone well.
Señor Ramirez occupied a chair by a table that carried some fine glass copitas from which one drinks the scented liquors used in Spain. His family was old and distinguished, and his post important. He was thin, dark-skinned and marked by an urbane dignity. As a rule, he looked languid, but sometimes his glance was keen.
Don Arturo sat opposite. He was strongly built and getting fat. Although his hair and eyes were very black, he was essentially British. He had known poverty, but now controlled large commercial undertakings and steamship lines. Don Arturo was loved and hated. Some found him strangely generous, and some thought him hard and careless about the tools he used and broke. He made bold plans, and had opened wide belts in Africa to British trade.
Mrs. Jefferson, Austin, and two or three others occupied the background. They were, so to speak, the chorus, and in the meantime not important. Austin knew when to let his wife play the leading part.
"When I was honoured by your opening your house to me I knew my entertainment would be good, but I must own it was better than I thought," Ramirez presently remarked.
"Ah," said Mrs. Austin, "I hesitated. You have public duties; I doubted if you could come."
"Duties are always numerous and pleasures strangely few. Besides, at Las Palmas, you command. But if one is allowed to talk about your other guest – "
"Señor Wolf wanted to meet you. I hope you were not bored."
Ramirez smiled. "Some people want to meet me and some do not, but I was not bored at all. Your friend is an interesting man; he told me much about which I must think. You have known him long?"
"Not long," said Mrs. Austin. She wanted to hint that she did not altogether make herself accountable for her guest, and resumed: "Still, at Las Palmas, we are foreigners, and since he is English – "
"Then you imagine Señor Wolf is English?"
"I have imagined so," said Mrs. Austin with some surprise. "However, his skin is rather dark."
"Darker than mine, for example?" Ramirez rejoined with a twinkle. "Well, the colour of one's skin is not important. In Spain there are descendants of the Visi-Goths whose colors is white and pink. One must rather study mental characteristics."
"Then you think Wolf's mentality is foreign?" said Don Arturo.
"It is not English. One notes a touch of subtlety, an understanding of one's thoughts, a keen intelligence – "
Don Arturo laughed and Mrs. Austin waved her fan.
"But, señor, I am patriotic. Are we very dull?"
"My lady, your grounds for patriotic pride are good. Your people have qualities. Let me state an example. In these islands our peons are frugal, sober, and industrious; a fine race. Our merchants are intellectual and cultivated. In mathematics, philosophy, and argument I think no brains are better than ours. It is possible we got much from the Moors – "
"My coaling and banana clerks are not philosophical, and I doubt if many are cultivated," Don Arturo remarked.
Ramirez spread out his hands. "You use my argument! I admit you have qualities. These raw English lads do things we cannot. They load in a night bananas we cannot load in two days, they get the best fruit, they use our fishermen and labourers to coal your ships. The profit and all that is good in Grand Canary goes to you. At the hill villages where the peons went to bed at dark, your mule carts arrive with cheap candles and oil. The shops are full of English clothes and tools. When the peon finds he needs your goods he grows things to sell. Sometimes we are jealous, but we trust you."
"It looks as if you trusted Wolf, although you imagine he is not English," Don Arturo said dryly.
"He is the señora's guest," said Ramirez, bowing to Mrs. Austin.
"Ah," said Mrs. Austin, "this does not carry much weight! I am not a clever politician, and perhaps my judgment is not very sound."
"All the same, I did trust Señor Wolf. He wanted some concessions; a little slackening of our rules about trading on the African coast."
"Your rules are rather numerous," Don Arturo remarked.
"It is so, my friend. Our possessions in Africa are small and the Moors of Rio de Oro are fierce and troublesome, but I think that belt of Atlantic coast will some time be worth much. Valuable goods cross the Sahara from the West Soudan, and when we have made harbours, caravans that now go to Morocco and Algiers will arrive. Well, perhaps we are cautious. We have greedy neighbours, and when one has not got much, one keeps what one has."
Don Arturo looked thoughtful. "West Africa's my field, and I don't know the North, but now France has got all the hinterland, I sometimes think the dispute about the Atlantic coast may be reopened. I imagine the Spanish Government is not a friend of Islam."
"When we are not anarchists we are staunch Catholics," Ramirez agreed. "Well, in North Africa the sun and the tribesmen's blood are hot. A strange, wild country, where the agreements diplomatists make do not go. But this is not important. I think the señora's talented friend interested you."
"I promised to charter him a steamer," said Don Arturo dryly.
"A Spanish steamer?"
"She is now an English cargo-boat of two thousand tons. I do not know if Wolf will hoist the Spanish flag. Perhaps this might be allowed."
Ramirez's eyes twinkled. "It is possible. We are poor and cannot pay our officers much. But two thousand tons? To carry a few sheep!"
"I understand Wolf will send her to Mojador and Saffi for maize and beans."
"Oh, well," said Ramirez, "we will talk about something else." He turned to Mrs. Austin. "My lady, you have seen our politeness is not as deep as people think, but you will make allowances. When one meets a famous English merchant, and a man of talent who knows the Rio de Oro, like Señor Wolf – "
"Although he is not English," Mrs. Austin remarked, but Ramirez smiled and turned to the others, who played up.
After a time the guests went off and Mrs. Austin said to her husband. "Somehow I feel I've meddled with a bigger thing than I knew. In fact, I rather wish I had not."
"Your object's good," said Austin. "You have got Kit a job. I suppose this was all you wanted?"
Mrs. Austin smiled. "I didn't want to help Wolf, and if I have helped, it's because one gets nothing unless one pays. However, we'll let it go."
When Kit returned to Las Palmas he found a note from Wolf, and in the evening went to a house in an old quarter of the town. The street was narrow, quiet and dark, but the moon touched one side with misty light. Kit heard the throbbing rumble of the surf, and coming from the noisy steam tram and the lights of the main street, he got a hint of mystery in the quietness and gloom. The houses had flat tops and looked like forts. Their straight fronts were pierced by a few narrow slits and a low arch. The slits were high up and barred. Kit thought that part of the city looked as if it had not been built by Europeans; it rather belonged to Egypt or Algiers. There was something romantic but sinister about it.
He knocked at a door and an old man took him across a patio where a ray of moonlight fell. The man showed him into a room furnished like an office, and Kit waited and looked about. There was no window, but an arch opened on to a passage with dark wooden pillars supporting a balcony. A few maps occupied the wall, and Kit began to study one of the Rio de Oro belt. Maps drew him; they called one to countries one had not seen, and this map pictured a wild land white men did not know much about. For all that, Kit thought it good. Green rings marked the oases, blue threads the wadys where water sometimes runs, and the red lines were the tracks by which loaded camels came from the Soudan. The marks, however, were not numerous, and Kit mused about the blank spaces.
Then he turned with a start and saw Wolf. He had not heard the fellow come in, and noted that he wore slippers of soft red leather. His shirt and trousers were white, but he wore a red silk sash and a Fez cap.
"My map interests you?" he said. "Well, I doubt if the Spanish government owns one as good. I expect to have noted that for the most part it is not printed?"
Kit had noted that the caravan roads and wadys were drawn by a pen.
"I was studying the unmarked spaces," he replied.
Wolf smiled and indicated a chair. "The explorer's instinct; there's something about the unknown that pulls. All the same, more is known about the country than some people think, and in one sense, it is not a desert. Then the people are not savages, although their rules are the rules the Arabs brought a thousand years since. They spring from famous stocks; Carthaginian, Roman; Saracen adventurers who pushed across the Atlas range and vanished. The country's intriguing, but to know it one must be resolute."
"I suppose the tribes are Mohammedans?" Kit remarked.
Wolf gave him some scented wine and a cigarette with a curious taste, and while he smoked Kit heard the measured beat of the surf. Somebody on a neighbouring roof played a guitar and the music was strange and melancholy.
"Some of the tribes are fanatics," Wolf replied. "Islam was born in the desert and its driving force comes from the wilds. When the prophets were made caliphs they lost their real power. The Turk has got slack and meddles with forbidden things, but the faith lives and has spread far recently. Its missionaries, however, do not come from Constantinople. Lean John Baptists appear in the desert and found fierce, reforming sects. One has grounds for imagining their job is something like this."
"Ah," said Kit. "Do they expect a new Mohammed?"
"I think they expect a new prophet," Wolf said quietly. "Not a political caliph, but a man from the wilds who will re-enforce the ancient Arab laws. They have waited for him long and have sometimes been cheated. Their habit is to wait. It is possible they will be cheated again."
Kit was young, and romance and mystery appealed. "Well," he said, "I'd like to see something of North-west Africa."
"Then the chance is yours. I am sending a steamer to the Morocco coast and want a man I can trust to meet the Jew merchants and put on board the maize and beans I've bought. Then she'll steam south to pick up goods at Rio de Oro, and my agent must go inland with an interpreter to meet the tribesmen. If you like, you can go."
Kit's eyes sparkled. "I'll take the post," he said, and then stopped and frowned. "I forgot," he resumed. "My engagement with the correos runs for some time."
"This is not much of an obstacle. I am chartering the steamer from the company and expect Don Ramon will let you off."
"If Don Ramon is willing, there is no obstacle," Kit declared, and when Wolf told him about his pay and duties his resolve was keener. He would use a power and responsibility he had not yet known and be richer than he had thought.
"Very well," said Wolf. "When you come back from Palma you had better see Don Ramon. In the meantime, I'll get things in trim."
Kit went down the street with a light step. The old Spanish house, the map, and Wolf's talk had fired his imagination. Adventure called. In a week or two he was going to see the desert and try his powers.
PART II
RESPONSIBILITY
CHAPTER I
OLIVIA'S EXPERIMENT
When the correillo returned from Palma and Kit went to the company's office he was bothered by doubts. Don Ramon, the Spanish manager, had been kind, and Kit felt shabby. He had engaged to serve the company for twelve months and doubted if his asking the other to release him was justified. For all that he wanted to go to Africa.
He was shown into the private office, and Don Ramon, after indicating a chair, occupied himself for a few minutes with the papers on his desk. Kit's embarrassment was obvious, and the manager was amused.
"I have studied your notes about business at the ports Compeador touched on her new round," he said presently. "Some of your suggestions are useful. I expect you wanted to talk to me about this?"
"Not altogether," Kit replied.
"Then, perhaps, you meant to talk about painting the passengers' rooms?"
"No," said Kit. "The rooms need painting, but I really meant to ask you to let me off my engagement. I have heard about another post."
Don Ramon studied him quietly for a few moments. Kit's glance was direct, but the blood had come to his skin. The Spaniard was very subtle and knew something about young Englishmen; he rather approved Kit.
"A better post?" he said.
"It is better, but I'm not altogether influenced by this," Kit replied awkwardly. "I haven't much scope on board Campeador. One likes to feel one is responsible and doing something worth while."
"Ah," said Don Ramon, "a number of your countrymen arrive at this office with the resolve to do as little as possible. However, I imagined you were satisfied on board."
