Spanish Gold/Chapter 8

AVING paddled the Major out to the Spindrift, Meldon suggested that they should dine on tinned brawn and bread-and-butter. It would, as he pointed out, take a long time to light the galley stove and boil potatoes; and every moment was of value now that the strangers on the Aureole had arrived and might go on shore to interview Higginbotham. It is likely also that extreme hunger made the prospect of an hour's delay very unpleasant. The Major, in spite of the anxiety which affected his appetite, agreed to dine at once. A tin was opened and a loaf of bread taken from the locker.

"Last loaf but one," said the Major, as he set it on the table. "To-morrow we shall be reduced to biscuits."

"Not at all," said Meldon. "I'll make a point of seeing Mary Kate's mother this evening and getting her to make us a loaf of soda bread. There's nothing so good as one of those pot-oven loaves, baked over a turf fire, and Mary Kate's mother is just the woman to do it well."

"You know nothing about the woman. You've never seen her. How do you know whether she can bake or not?"

"I've seen Mary Kate, and that's enough. You're very unobservant, Major. It's a great fault in you. And when by any chance you do observe anything, you fail to draw the most obvious inference. Now I know all about Mary Kate's mother by looking at Mary Kate. She's a plump, well-nourished little girl, comparatively clean, with a nice, comfortable, red petticoat on her, therefore—observe the simple nature of the inference—therefore Mary Kate's mother is a competent woman. Is it likely that a woman who couldn't bake an ordinary loaf would have reared a child like Mary Kate?"

"She may not have a mother at all," said the Major. "It might be her grandmother or her aunt that reared her."

"There you are again. That's your wretched, niggling, Anglo-Saxon way of grubbing about at details instead of grasping the broad principles of things. It doesn't matter to us whether Mary Kate has a mother or not. The point is that somewhere behind Mary Kate there's a competent woman, a grandmother, or an aunt, or a deceased wife's sister—it doesn't in the least matter which. Whoever she is she can bake. But I'll tell you what it is, Major, if we had my little girl here on board, we shouldn't be going on our bended knees to strange women for the want of a bit of bread. We'd be sitting down now to a good dish of steaming hot potatoes, with their skins just beginning to peel off them. In fact, I shouldn't wonder if she had them fried for us. Think of that!"

"I'd rather"

The Major's remark was interrupted by a heavy bump on the side of the yacht. It was clear from the sound of scraping that followed that a boat had come alongside.

"That fellow, whoever he is," said the Major, "will have all the paint off us before he's done."

"It must be the Member of Parliament off the Aureole," said Meldon. "I call this most fortunate."

He sprang up and climbed on deck. The moment afterwards he thrust his head into the cabin again and said—

"It's not the Member of Parliament after all. It's only Higginbotham."

He plunged forward as he spoke until half his body hung down the ladder.

"Best thing that could have happened," he whispered. "So long as Higginbotham is here we are safe, and the Member of Parliament can't get at him. I'll bring him down and give him a bit of brawn. We can open another tin if he seems hungry."

With a violent wriggle Meldon got his head and shoulders on deck again. He welcomed Higginbotham with effusive hospitality, and warmly invited him to go below and have some dinner. It appeared, however, that Higginbotham was not hungry. His face wore a look of perplexity and irritation. There was evidently something troubling him which he was anxious to have cleared up.

"I saw you leave the shore," he said, "and I got young Jamesy O'Flaherty to put me off. I hope you don't mind?"

"Not a bit," said Meldon. "We're delighted to see you. You say you won't have any brawn. Well, try a slice of bread-and-jam. Major, get out the strawberry jam; it's in the locker under you."

"No thanks. The fact is I only came out for a few minutes' conversation with you. I"

"If you like," said Meldon, "I'll light the galley fire and make you a cup of tea."

"No thanks. I want to speak to you for a few minutes and then I'll go back to my work. I've been rather annoyed this morning. I'm sure there's some ridiculous mistake which can be cleared up in ten minutes. I thought it better to come straight to you."

"Quite right," said Meldon; "if the thing is clearable at all, I'll clear it. I'm rather good at clearing things up. Ask the Major if I'm not. Just you make a clean breast of whatever the trouble is. You won't mind our eating while you talk."

"It's about sugar candy," said Higginbotham.

"Great Scott!" said Meldon. "Mary Kate!"

"I don't know anything about Mary Kate, but all the children on the island have been following me about and bothering the life out of me for sugar candy. They say you set them on."

"Look here, Higginbotham," said Meldon severely. "The Major and I are busy men, whatever you may be. If you're in any real trouble we're quite ready to do our best to pull you through, but I don't think it's fair of you to come here wasting our time over some trumpery business about sugar candy."

"But the children said you sent them to me."

"It's all well enough for you to be fussing and agitating in this way about mere trifles, but I have serious matters on my mind. I simply haven't time to waste over sugar candy. If the children have taken your sugar candy, see their parents about it and get them properly whipped. You can't expect us to go about taking sticky stuff out of their mouths to gratify you."

"I didn't say they'd stolen my sugar candy. They haven't. What I said"

"Very well, then, what are you making all this row about? Do you mean to suggest that we took your sugar candy? Neither the Major nor I ever eat sugar candy. If you set half a pound of it down on this table now, and invited us to gorge we simply wouldn't touch it. Look here, Higginbotham, you and I are old friends, and you often used to go up to Rathmines with me to see my little girl, so I'll just give you a word of advice that I wouldn't give to a stranger—if you want to get on with the people on this island, don't go quarrelling with their children. There's old Thomas O'Flaherty Pat, for instance, as decent an old fellow as I ever met, and quite easy to make friends with. He went out to-day, quite off his own bat, without so much as a hint from me, and caught a crab and gave it to me. Any one with a grain of tact could get on with poor Thomas O'Flaherty Pat. As quiet a man as you'd see anywhere. But you go and rub him up the wrong way, get his back up, and generally play old hokey with his temper by nagging at his granddaughter about some barley sugar."

"It was sugar candy," said Higginbotham, feebly; "and besides"

"Well, sugar candy, then—it's all the same. It wouldn't make any difference if it was peppermint lozenges. You worry and threaten the poor child about a pennyworth of some ridiculous sweetmeat, and then you profess to be astonished that the old man won't give up his house to you. I'd have been very much surprised indeed if he did under the circumstances. No man likes to have his grandchildren ragged. You wouldn't like it yourself if you had any. And a little girl, too! Higginbotham, you ought to be ashamed of yourself."

"If you'd let me speak for a moment," said Higginbotham, "I'd explain."

"You're far too fond of speaking," said Meldon. "Half your troubles come from talking too much."

"But you've taken the thing up wrong. I'm not blaming you. There's a mistake somewhere, I know. I wish you'd let me say one word."

"I can't and won't spend the rest of the day arguing with you about sugar candy. It wouldn't be for your own good if I did. Are you aware, Higginbotham, that there are two English Members of Parliament in that boat, anchored 'a few yards away, and that they've come here expressly to see how you are getting on?"

"How do you know that?"

"Well, I don't absolutely know it. But I can't imagine what would bring a Member of Parliament to this island if it wasn't to inspect your work. They don't come here for the salmon fishing; you may bet your hat on that. Now, if you'll take my advice you would seize the earliest opportunity of smoothing down old Thomas O'Flaherty Pat before they get listening to his Story."

"But the old man can only talk Irish."

"Don't you trust too much to that, Higginbotham. In the first place I strongly suspect that he can talk English just as well as you can; and besides, you can't be sure that the Members of Parliament don't know Irish. I can tell you there are some mighty smart men in Parliament now. It just happens, Higginbotham, that this morning, while you were chasing and ballyragging that unfortunate little Mary Kate round and round the island for the sake of a bit of sugar candy, I was having a quiet chat with Thomas O'Flaherty Pat. It just shows me the kind of fellow you are. You don't hesitate to come here bothering the Major and me with your wretched little grievances while I've been doing you a good turn in a really important matter."

"What?" said Higginbotham.

"I've a very good mind not to tell you after the way you've behaved. But I'll just say this much. You want old Thomas O'Flaherty Pat's house and bit of land, don't you? Very well, you go up there to-morrow at half- past eight and talk to him about it."

"Have you persuaded him to give it up?"

"I won't say another word. Just go up and see for yourself."

"I'm awfully obliged to you, Meldon; I really am. I'm sorry for bothering you about the sugar candy. I wouldn't have mentioned the matter to you only"

"All right," said Meldon graciously. "Don't trouble to apologise. The Major and I don't mind a bit. But I'll tell you what you can do now. I have to go and call on the Members of Parliament. Will you?"

"There's no use doing that," said Higginbotham. "I saw them going ashore in their punt as I came off to you."

"All the same, I'll look them up," said Meldon. "I'm sure to find them somewhere about on the island. What I want you to do is to stay here and play chess with the Major till I get back."

He winked fiercely at Major Kent as he spoke.

"I know you play, Higginbotham, for you were a member of the chess club in college. You'll enjoy having a go at the Major. He's a perfect whale at the Muzio gambit. Very few men know the ins and outs of it as he does."

"I don't," said the Major sulkily; "and anyway, there isn't a chessboard on the yacht."

Meldon winked again, this time with fervent appeal.

"It's all right about the board," he said. "I saw one in Higginbotham's house last night. I'll go ashore in your curragh, Higginbotham, and send it off to you. Goodbye. Oh! Before I go, Major, you might as well give me another sixpence in case I meet Mary Kate again. You may as well give it to me as be losing it to Higginbotham, making bets as to how one of your gambits will turn out."

There was no one on the little pier when Meldon reached it. He supposed, quite rightly, that those of the inhabitants of the island who were interested in strangers had gone after the M.P.'s. It seemed likely that Mary Kate had followed them. She was a child of inquisitive mind. He walked up to Higginbotham's house, obtained the chessboard, and sent it off in the curragh to the yacht. Then he made his way to the nearest cottage, knocked at the door, and entered. A young woman, bare-armed, with a thick stick in her hands, was pounding a mass of potatoes and turnips in a large tub.

"Good-evening to you," said Meldon cheerfully. "Getting the food ready for the pigs? That's right. Feed your pigs well. There's nothing like it. Here, give me a turn at that stick. You look as if you were getting hot."

"It isn't the like of this work that you'd be used to," said the woman smiling.

"Oh, but I can do it," said Meldon, taking the stick from her. He pounded vigorously at the unsavoury mess for a while. Then he said, "Are you the woman of the house?"

"I am, your honour."

"Well, then, where's Mary Kate this afternoon?"

"Is it Michael O'Flaherty Tom's Mary Kate you'll be wanting?"

"How many more Mary Kates are there?"

"There's ne'er another in it only herself."

"Well, then, it's her I want. Where have you her?"

"She's no child of mine," said the woman. "I haven't but the one, and he's beyond there in the cradle. If she was letting on to your honour that she belonged to me she was just deceiving you. Faith, and it's not the only time the same little lady was at them sort of tricks. I hear that herself and the rest of the children had the life fair bothered out of the gentleman that does be measuring out the land, about sugar candy or some such talk."

"I wouldn't wonder at her," said Meldon; "but where would she be now, do you think?"

"She might be off chasing home the brown cow and the little heifer for her da."

"And where would the brown cow be?"

"Faith, that same cow is mighty fond of roaming where she's no call to go."

The woman stepped outside her cottage door and peered up and down. "Come here now, your honour, and leave off mashing them turnips. If that isn't herself with the brown cow in front of her and the little heifer beyond there over by the wall, it's mighty like her."

"I'm much obliged to you," said Meldon. "Good-evening."

He crossed two stone walls, waded through a boggy field, and came within hail of the child who drove the cattle.

"Mary Kate!" he shouted. "Hullo there, Mary Kate O'Flaherty!"

She turned and looked at him in wonder. Then, recognising the giver of the sixpence in the morning, grinned shyly.

"Mary Kate," shouted Meldon again, "will you come over here and speak to me? Leave those cows alone and come here. Do you think I've nothing to do only to be running about the island chasing little girleens like yourself?"

But Mary Kate had no intention of leaving the cow and the heifer. With a devotion to the pure instinct of duty which would have excited the admiration of any Englishman and a Casabianca-like determination to abide by her father's word, she began driving the cattle towards Meldon. Four fields, one of them boggy, and five loose stone walls lay between her and the curate. There were no gates. Such obstacles might have daunted an older head. They didn't trouble Kate in the least. Reaching the first wall she deliberately toppled stone after stone off it until she had made a practicable gap.

The cow and the heifer, understanding what was expected of them, stalked into the field beyond, picking their steps with an ease which told of long practice, among the scattered débris of the broken wall. Meldon, with a courteous desire to save the child extra trouble, crossed the wall nearest him. Mary Kate dealt with a second obstacle as she had with the first and reached the boggy field. The cattle, encouraged by her shouts, floundered through, drawing their hoofs out of the deep mud with evident exertion. Mary Kate, light as she was, sank to her ankles in places and splashed the calves of her legs with slime. Meldon, who wore boots and had to be careful where he walked, waited for her on dry ground.

"Well, Mary Kate," he said. "Here you are at last. A nice chase I had after you. Tell me this now, did you see the two strange gentlemen that came off the other boat?"

"I did."

"Did either of them give you a sixpence the same as I did this morning?"

"They did not."

"Didn't they now? I'd hardly call them gentlemen at all then, would you?"

Mary Kate grinned. Her first shyness was disappearing. She began to find Meldon a companionable person.

"Where did they go when they came ashore? Was it up to the iron house of the gentleman that does be measuring out the land?"

Meldon had gathered from the woman whom he had interviewed on his way that this was the proper description of Higginbotham.

Mary Kate understood him at once.

"They did not then."

"Well, and if they didn't go there, where did they go?"

"Back west."

"Do you mean up the hill there to the place where the cliffs are?"

Mary Kate grinned assent. She was a child who set a proper value on words and used as few as possible in conversation. Meldon wondered why the Members of Parliament had gone straight past the human habitations and the works of Higginbotham, which might be supposed to interest them, to the desolate region where only very active sheep grazed. He decided that they must have gone to look at the view, and he thought less of them. The tourist—the mere unmitigated tourist—with no political or social objects before his mind, goes to look at views. No one else—certainly no proper, serious-minded Member of Parliament—would waste his time over a view.

"Mary Kate," he began again after a pause. "You're Michael O'Flaherty Tom's Mary Kate, aren't you?"

"I might then."

"What's the good of saying you might when you know you are? You can't get over me with that sort of talk. Do you see that?"

He held up between his finger and thumb Major Kent's second sixpence.

Mary Kate grinned.

"Well, take a good look at it. Now, tell me this, Is Thomas O'Flaherty Pat your grandfather?"

"Is it me grandda you mean?"

"It is. Is Thomas O'Flaherty Pat your grandda?"

"He might," said Mary Kate.

"Well, go you up to him wherever he is and tell him this: that the gentleman who does be measuring out the land wants to see him to-morrow morning at half-past eight o'clock. Do you understand me now?"

"I do surely."

"Well, what are you to tell him?"

"I'm to tell him that the gentleman from the Board who does be measuring out the land wants to take the house off him."

"Well," said Meldon, "you can put it that way if you like. And mind this, Mary Kate—are you listening to me now?—mind this, if your grandda isn't there at half-past eight o'clock the house will be took off him whether he likes it or not. But if he's there, maybe it won't. Do you understand that?"

"I do."

"Well, now, there's one thing more. You're a mighty clever little girl, Mary Kate. I suppose now you can speak the Irish just as well as you can the English. Well, then, you be up at your grandda's house at the same time to-morrow, so as you'll be able to tell him what the gentleman says to him and tell the gentleman what he wants to say."

"Sure, there's no need."

"I know there's no need just as well as you do. But you're to be there all the same. Will you promise me now that you'll go?"

"I do be in dread of the gentleman," said Mary Kate doubtfully.

"And well you may after plaguing the life out of him all day for barley sugar. Oh, I heard about your goings on. But don't you be afraid. That'll be all right."

"Will he be for beating me?"

"He will not. I made it all right with him, and he won't raise a hand to you, so you needn't be afraid. Just you face up to him and tell him what your grandda says about the house. Now, here's the other sixpence for you. Be a good girl and mind what I said, and maybe you'll get another sixpence yet."

Meldon left the child and strolled down to the pier. He was gratified to see the two strangers in their punt rowing off to the Aureole. Their taste for scenery was evidently satisfied. He paddled out to the Spindrift very well satisfied with himself. He found Major Kent and Higginbotham sitting over the chessboard in the cabin. The Major had just been checkmated for the fourth time and was in a very bad temper. Higginbotham had taken quite the wrong way of soothing him. There is nothing more irritating than to have the mistakes of the past brought up and explained, all their foolishness exposed. Higginbotham, with that curious memory which only chess-players possess, had insisted on going over each of the four games he had won and showing to the Major where the weakness of his moves lay. Meldon interrupted the fourth demonstration.

"Wake up, you two," he cried as he entered the cabin, "and let's get tea. I'm as hungry as if I hadn't touched food to-day. I'll tell you what it is, Higginbotham; I wouldn't like to be an inhabitant of this island of yours when there's a famine on. I never came across such a place in my life for raising an appetite on a man. You ought to get your Board to run it as a health resort for dyspeptic people who can't or won't eat."

"Dyspeptic people," said the Major sullenly, "are the ones who eat too much."

"Oh! well, you know the kind of people I mean. I may have got the name wrong. I'm not a boss at scientific names and I never said I was. I leave that to you and Higginbotham. You like talking about pliocene clay and such things. Hullo! Where are you going?"

The Major had risen from his seat and was making for the galley. He disliked the mention of pliocene clay. It seemed to him that it might lead to inquiries from Higginbotham about the geological survey of the island.

"I'm going to light the stove," he said.

"Oh, I'll do that," said Meldon. "I know you hate messing about with coal and paraffin oil. It dirties your hands. You and Higginbotham spread the cloth and get out the cups and things."

"I'm afraid I can't stay for tea," said Higginbotham. "I've got a lot of writing to do."

"Nonsense," said Meldon hospitably. "You can't really want to write. No posts go out from this island."

"No, they don't. But I'm expecting some members of our Board round before the end of the month, and I like to have a report of my work written up. I didn't realise that it was so late till you came on board."

"Very well, Higginbotham, we won't interfere with your work. The Major and I both know what official work is. We're sorry to lose your company, but of course we quite understand. Major, if you put Higginbotham ashore in the punt, I'll light the stove. Good-bye, old fellow. Mind you don't forget to be up at old O'Flaherty's to-morrow at 8.30. It's most important. Are you ready, Major?"

Major Kent was already busy at the stove and refused to leave it. It was Meldon who took Higginbotham to the pier. When he returned the stove was lit, the kettle on it, and Major Kent was waiting for him.

"J. J.," said he, "I'll stand no more of this. If you want to entertain Higginbotham you must do it yourself. You know I'm no good at chess. What do you mean by dumping a man like that down on me for the afternoon?"

"I thought you'd like a game," said Meldon.

"You thought nothing of the sort. You knew I was no match for a fellow who has won championship cups and things. He talked to me about the Sicilian defence. What do I know about the Sicilian defences?"

"If he hadn't had Sicilian defences to talk about he'd have talked about geology, and that would have been a great deal more unpleasant for you."

"I don't see why he need have been kept here to talk at all."

"My dear Major, aren't you a little unreasonable? I had to keep Higginbotham occupied in some way. I had to keep him off the island. Don't you see that if he landed he'd have been almost certain to knock up against one or other of those Members of Parliament? Then he'd have let the whole thing out—geological survey, school, and all. You wouldn't have liked that. You told me yourself you wouldn't like it."

"He'll see them to-morrow any way. It'll be all the same in the end."

"He may not see them to-morrow. They may be gone out of this. You don't realise, Major, what a restless animal the modern Member of Parliament is. He never stops long in one place. He can't, you know. The British Empire has grown so enormously of late that the Members of Parliament simply have to dart round to get a look at it at all. Besides, even if Higginbotham does see them it won't matter. I have everything fixed up for to-morrow. By the evening we'll have our hands on the treasure and be in a position to laugh at the whole Government. Ah! there's the kettle boiling."

A few minutes later Meldon entered the cabin with the teapot in his hand.

"I was just going to tell you," he said, "when the kettle boiled and interrupted me, that I've made it all right about old Thomas O'Flaherty Pat. He won't track us to-morrow."

"What did you do?" said the Major a little anxiously. "Did you disguise yourself again?"

"I did not then," said Meldon, "but I don't deny that I more or less disguised Mary Kate's grandda, and for the matter of that, Mary Kate herself and Higginbotham. I resorted to what you military men call a stratagem."

"What did you do?"

"Well, maybe as you've been a magistrate since you've given up the army, you'll understand me better if I say that I established an alibi."

"I wish you'd talk sense, not that I care what you did. I'm past caring."

"An alibi," said Meldon, "is what they call it when a man is in another place from where the prosecuting counsel wants him to be. Now I don't want old O'Flaherty down on the pier to-morrow morning when we land. I don't want Higginbotham either. For the matter of that I don't particularly care about seeing Mary Kate there. So I've settled things in such a way that they'll all three of them be somewhere else between half-past eight and half-past nine to-morrow morning. That's the alibi. See?"

"I do not."

"Well, I can't help your not seeing. The facts are just the same as if you did. We want to get off to that hole to-morrow without being tracked by old T. O. P., or talked at by Higginbotham. That's so, isn't it? Very well, we'll get off, unseen and unknown. That's what comes of managing these things with some little intelligence."

"What about the Members of Parliament, if they are Members of Parliament?"

"As I think I told you before," said Meldon, "they'll probably be gone to-morrow morning. But even if they're not, it won't matter. They went off this afternoon up to the top of the mountain to look at the view. Now fellows who go wandering about after scenery aren't likely to interfere seriously with us. We needn't bother about them."