CHAPTER II--THE HACIENDA
William Pentelow was one of those boys who make up their mind early whatthey are going to be, and work steadily towards this settled aim. Theson of a professional man of moderate income, he was sent to awell-known London day-school, showed no special promise for a year ortwo, but after his first lesson in mechanics declared that he must be anengineer, and from that time made rapid progress in science. His fatherrecognized his bent, and sent him to the Heriot Watt College, where hewas thrown among young fellows of many different nationalities, acircumstance that had two results: it caused him to think for the firsttime of going abroad, and it gave him opportunities of picking up acertain knowledge of foreign tongues. With French and Spanish he wassoon at home; German bothered him; he was making strides in Hindostaniwhen a sudden offer launched him on his career.
A friend of his father was superintending the building of a railway inVenezuela, for a British company engaged in working asphalt mines.Originally they had sent their products by barge along a tributary ofthe Orinoco, down that great river itself, and thus to sea. But afterthe company had been in existence for some years, the Jefe of theprovince of Guayana, by indirect means in which the South Americanofficial is an adept, secured a monopoly of the navigation of thetributary in question, and at once levied exorbitant transit dues on theonly people who used it as a commercial waterway--the asphalt company.
The directors put up with this extortion for a time. Then the accessionof a new president drove matters to a climax. This President, unlikealmost every other ruler of Venezuela from the time of Bolivar, aimed,not at enriching himself and his clique, but at purifying the publiclife of the country. One of his first administrative acts was todismiss the Jefe of Guayana, a notoriously corrupt official, whoimmediately set about making good his loss of income by doubling hisfees to the asphalt company. This was more than the Company couldstand. The directors made a vigorous protest to Government, but theJefe was acting strictly within his legal rights, and there was noredress. The upshot was that the Company obtained a concession for abranch railway line, to run from their mines, along the right bank ofthe Jefe's river, to a junction with the trunk line about fifty milesdistant. The work was immediately put in hand; the services of Mr.Pentelow's friend, Mr. George Jackson, were engaged as chief of theconstruction staff; and just before sailing, Mr. Jackson bethoughthimself of young Pentelow, now near the end of his pupilage, and offeredhim his first job. Will accepted with alacrity. The opportunity ofgaining experience and at the same time seeing a foreign country was toogood to be neglected. He sailed with Mr. Jackson, and had been severalmonths in Venezuela when our story opens. Forty miles of the railwayhad already been completed, and was in use for the carriage of asphalt,this being conveyed to railhead from the mines on mules. The Companyhad ceased to pay dues to the ex-Jefe of Guayana, whose monopoly was nownot worth an old song.
Will's only regret in leaving England was the interruption of his hobby.He had been for some time enthusiastically interested in motor-boats,and when Mr. Jackson's sudden offer came, was in the midst ofexperimenting with a hydroplane. This he had to leave behind. But hehad not been long in Venezuela before he found an opportunity of takingup his hobby again. The labourers on the railway, a strangely assortedcrowd of Spaniards, Spanish-Indians, Indo-negroes and other mongrels,were scrupulous in one matter: the observance of holidays. Saints' daysand festivals were numerous, and on these all work stopped. Findinghimself thus with plenty of spare time on his hands, Will turned it toaccount. In Caracas one day he picked up a petrol engine, very lightand at the same time of considerable horse-power. It was part of amotor-car which a wealthy Venezuelan had imported from New York. Onebreak-down after another, imperfectly repaired--for the Venezuelans arenotoriously bad mechanicians--had disgusted the owner of the car, whowas glad to sell it for a mere trifle. Since the car was uselessoutside Caracas--and indeed inside the city, for the matter of that, thepaving of the streets being remarkably primitive--Will removed theengine, conveyed it to the head-quarters of the branch railway, and withthe assistance of a handy man on the staff, by name Joe Ruggles, adaptedit to a hydroplane which he built himself. The basin of the Orinoco isso much intersected by rivers and streams of all sizes that the newrailway was at no point very far from a watercourse deep enough to floatthe vessel. The constantly recurring fete days gave Will manyopportunities of indulging his hobby, on which he was the object of muchgood-humoured banter among his colleagues.
The boat, as Will had to confess, was a somewhat rough and ready affair.It was not the kind of thing that would be turned out at Thorneycroft's,and it would no doubt have been regarded with a sniff of contempt by aprofessional boat-builder. In its essentials it was a kind of punt, theflat bottom being fitted with planes inclined at an angle, so that whenthe propelling force was sufficient, the forward part of the boat wasraised out of the water, skimming along the surface instead of cuttingthrough it like an ordinary boat. The crew and engines wereaccommodated aft, this disposition of the weight facilitating theskimming action on which the speed of the vessel depended. Althoughsome twenty-four feet long and eight feet in beam, her draft at rest wasonly a few inches. As Ruggles was accustomed to say, she could goanywhere if the dew was heavy enough. For the hull Will used a lightsteel framework covered with very thin planking. A boat-shapedwindscreen, pierced for two ventilators intended to cool the engines,gave shelter to the crew, a very necessary precaution when the boat wasmoving at high speed.
Will's principal difficulty lay in converting his engine to this newuse. The driving shaft he found answered admirably as a propellershaft, the bevel wheels he melted in a crucible to form a propeller. Thelatter he had to cast himself, making a pattern, moulding it in sand,and pouring the melted brass into the mould.
The petrol was stored in a tank accommodated under the back seat. Willfound that some twelve gallons gave him a speed of about forty knots fora four hours' run, which was quite enough for any ordinary expedition.
For a hundred and fifty miles above Ciudad Bolivar, Will soon knew mostof the principal tributaries of the Orinoco. In fact the only limit tohis expeditions lay in the capacity of his petrol tank, but even this hecould supplement on occasion by taking with him a number of extra cans.He had of course one or two exciting experiences; these were inevitablein navigating tropical rivers at a speed of forty knots. More than oncethe blades of his propeller were injured by half-submerged logs. Aftertinkering at them some hours on the bank of a creek or river, he wouldreturn at four knots to the place from which he had started at forty.These, however, were merely exhilarating incidents; they lent just thatspice of risk that made the sport thoroughly enjoyable.
Such risks were due to great speed, but there were occasions when inthis very speed lay safety from disaster. One day, having a longerholiday than usual, Will ran down nearly to the mouth of the Orinoco.While going easy at some twenty knots he saw what looked like a bank ofwater stretching right across the river ahead of him. It did not need asecond glance for him to recognize that a tidal wave was sweeping up theriver, and threatening to engulf him within a few moments. Before hecould bring the hydroplane round, the mass of water, moving attremendous speed, was almost upon him. He had perhaps five seconds tospare, and drove the hydroplane at its hardest. For a moment it seemedto him that the issue hung in doubt, a very unpleasant moment, as heafterwards confessed. Then the vessel began to draw away, and theimmediate danger was over. But for ten or fifteen miles he thought itwise to keep a respectful distance between himself and the tidal wave,which followed him, although at a gradually diminishing speed. Sincethen he had avoided the Orinoco itself, and limited his excursions tothe tributaries within easy distance of the advancing railway.
----
We left Will on the bank of the river, the Indian before him, the deadjaguar at his feet. The Indian glanced at his rescuer with a timid,hunted look; then, as if reassured, began to thank him
in harshimperfect Spanish. Will had perceived at once that the man was not oneof the workers on the railway.
"Where do you come from?" he asked.
The hunted look returned to the man's eyes. He glanced nervously up anddown the river, and towards the opposite bank. Lifting his hand, hedescribed a half-circle with it in the air.
"But where is your home?" Will asked again.
"I have no home, senor," muttered the Indian. "It was burnt with fire."
"How was that?"
The man hesitated, then mumbled something which Will failed to catch.Evidently he was suspicious, and did not wish to be communicative. Willnoticed scars on the upper part of his body; and from other slightindications, as well as the man's manifest nervousness, guessed that hewas a fugitive.
"Well, you had better go," he said, "and keep out of the way of tigers.Here, take this beast if it's any good to you."
"It is yours, senor," said the man, surprised.
"I don't want it; you may have it."
He had seen that the animal's skin was ruined by the impact of thehydroplane. The Indian, however, was delighted with the gift; the clawswould be valuable to him. He thanked Will with servile effusiveness,and stooped to the animal. Will stood watching him for a few moments,then got into his vessel and started it down-stream, increasing thespeed until it reached at least thirty knots. In about a quarter of anhour he came to a tributary entering the river on the right bank. Hehad already slowed down, and steering the vessel round, he made his wayup the smaller stream. In parts it was very narrow, and so closelyoverhung by trees on both banks that Will more than once had to bend toavoid the branches. Here and there the stream was shallow; but thehydroplane drew so little water that she was nowhere in danger ofrunning aground.
Following its winding course for some two miles, Will came to a straightcanal scarcely twenty feet broad, running into the stream on the left.He steered his vessel into this, and arrived in a few minutes at a smalllake. On the further shore, some feet above the water-level, stood afine hacienda--a sort of superior bungalow--surrounded by luxuriousgardens. It was a long, broad dwelling of one storey, with verandas,the door, which was open, leading through a light hall into the patio--aspacious court, with a flowerbed in the centre, on which all the roomsof the house opened. Below, at the foot of a terrace, a small jettyprojected into the lake. Will steered the hydroplane to this, and mooredher beside a diminutive sailing yacht that already lay there. Then hemade his way towards the house, giving a loud coo-ee.
He was half-way to the door when a young man, a few years older thanhimself, came to meet him. He was dressed in white drill, with abrilliant sash or cummerbund about his waist, a white sombrero on hishead, and a long cigarro in his mouth.
"Hullo, old chap!" he said, with a scarcely noticeable accent. "Iwondered when you would come again. I was just thinking of coffee: comealong!"
He linked his arm with Will's, and led him towards the house.
"I say, can you lend me some slippers? I can't appear before the ladieslike this."
Will glanced down at his long boots, which had dried green after theirimmersion.
"Don't worry, my dear boy, I'm alone: the ladies aren't here."
Will looked disappointed rather than relieved. The two went togetherinto the patio; a servant placed chairs for them at a little roundtable, upon which coffee, bread, cheese, and fruit had already beenlaid.
"Yes," continued Antonio de Mello, speaking now in Spanish, "I thought Ihad better send my mother and sister away. There's a storm brewing."
"A revolution?"
"Undoubtedly a revolution, my friend. The President has made an enemyof every villain in the country, and General Carabano, who is as big arascal as Venezuela has ever known--and that's saying a good deal--isbeginning to make things lively."
"In Caracas?"
"No, not yet. He has raised his flag about fifty miles from here, andif he can get a big enough army together he'll make for the capital andtry to overthrow the Government. And I tell you, my friend, there'strouble ahead for your railway. Carabano is hand in glove with the lateJefe, who doesn't love your Company."
"But why did you think it necessary to send the ladies away?"
"Because Carabano is a particularly offensive person. He has an oldgrudge against me, and if the railway brings him in this direction, hewill not be able to deny himself the pleasure of a visit. I do not carethat my mother and sister should meet him; nor shall I meet him myselfif I can avoid it. I have made arrangements for a hasty departure if Ihear that he is in the neighbourhood.... But come and see my newstables. They're finished since you were here last, and I've got a newhunter you'd give your eyes for. Come along!"
Antonio de Mello was very proud of his new stables. He had lived forsome time in England, whence he returned with a pretty taste inhorseflesh and an ambition to start a stud. Like many of his countrymenhe was a good linguist, being equally at home in English, French, andSpanish, and having some knowledge also of the native dialects of hisdistrict. He had met Will one day when riding in the neighbourhood ofthe railway, and struck up a friendship with him. Will had been severaltimes to his house, where the senora and senorita had made him verywelcome.
He accompanied Antonio to the stables, just completed, and duly admiredtheir up-to-date appointments and the new hunter. He thought it alittle odd that the old stables were still left standing. They werevery tumbledown; indeed, an English gentleman who owned a house andgardens like the hacienda would have regarded them as an eyesore whichit behoved him to remove as soon as possible. But the typicalVenezuelan is not fastidious, and though Antonio had acquired some ofthe manners and something of the outlook of Englishmen, he stillretained much of the careless and happy-go-lucky traits of the SouthAmerican, and was quite content to allow his old stables to fall topieces within a few yards of his front door.
After strolling round for half-an-hour, Will declared that it was timeto be off. Antonio went down with him to the jetty; and, promising torepeat the visit before long, Will set the hydroplane skimming down thecanal until he came to the stream again. Then, turning to the left, hewent on for three or four miles, until the silence of the forest wasbroken by a low humming sound, in which, as it grew louder, it waspossible to distinguish the blows of hammers, the thuds of spades, andthe shouts of men. The labourers were not in sight, being concealed bythe high bank and its dense vegetation.
Bringing his vessel to a stop, Will gave a low whistle. Instantly adark face appeared in the mass of foliage on the bank, and a negro boy,about sixteen years of age, slid down towards the brink of the stream.To him Will flung the painter; the boy caught it and, plunging backamong the bushes, began to haul in, Will lying at full length on thedeck. The hydroplane passed through the screen of foliage into ashallow recess in the bank, where it was completely hidden from view,either from the stream or from the ground above. Owing to the constantshifting of the camp as the railway lengthened, Will had had sometrouble in finding harbourage at once secure and convenient for hisvessel. The labourers were a rough lot, and though it was unlikely thatany of them would have been able to work the engine, it was alwayspossible that one of them, if feloniously inclined, or perhaps simplybent on mischief, might paddle or pole the vessel down the river, or atany rate do a good deal of damage to it. Will therefore always soughtfor some secret place in which he might lay it up.
The recess into which it had now been hauled was discovered a few daysbefore. It struck Will as a very suitable place for mooring the vessel,though it cost him and the negro boy some hours of hard work to clear itof frogs and other old inhabitants. The water was only about two feetdeep, so that there was little fear of encountering alligators; but itwas swarming with electric eels, one of which gave Will a severe shockas he waded in with his vessel. He was very careful not to give thecreatures another chance.
"Why weren't you here when I started this morning?" said Will as he madethe hydroplane fast.
"You did very well, Jose. Senor Machado is a friend of yours, eh?"
"No, senor, but very friendly."
"Ah! a distinction and a difference. He asked you questions, no doubt?"
"No, senor, no questions, but he would have liked me to give answers."
"And got none. Very well, Jose; always keep your mouth shut. I don'twant Senor Machado or any one else to meddle with my boat."
He unscrewed the throttle and put it into his pocket. Then, having seenthat the painter was securely wound about an iron stake driven into theground, he scrambled up the bank, walked along for a few yards, shovingaside the entangling undergrowth with his arms, and came to a spotwhence he could overlook the scene from which the sounds proceeded.Several hundreds of dusky labourers were engaged in constructing anembankment along the edge of a wood nearly a quarter of a mile away. Tothe left, the railway line disappeared among the trees. A small enginewas drawing a train of trucks filled with earth towards the partly builtembankment. Below this, on a stretch of sward, were the tents of theengineering staff; at a considerable distance to the left were those ofthe coolies. Will forced his way through the trees, remaining out ofsight from the encampment, and approached the tents by a circuitousroute. The sudden friendliness of Senor Machado for his boy Joseconfirmed him in his determination to keep the whereabouts of thehydroplane a profound secret. True, Senor Machado had hitherto seemed aquiet inoffensive fellow, attentive to his duty as telegraphist; but thetelegraph was not constantly in use, and Will thought it just as well tokeep temptation out of Senor Machado's way.
Swift and Sure: The Story of a Hydroplane Page 4