It was dark outside the feeble lamplight, and very hot, when Dick sat on
his veranda after a day of keen activity in the burning sun. He felt
slack and jaded, for he had had difficult work to do and his dusky
laborers had flagged under the unusual heat. There was now no touch of
coolness in the stagnant air, and although the camp down the valley was
very quiet a confused hum of insects came out of the jungle. It rose and
fell with a monotonous regularity that jarred upon Dick's nerves as he
forced himself to think.
He was in danger of falling in love with Clare Kenwardine; indeed, he
suspected that it would be better to face the truth and admit that he had
already done so. The prudent course would be to fight against and
overcome his infatuation; but suppose he found this impossible, as he
feared? It seemed certain that she had stolen his papers; but after all
he did not hold her accountable. Some day he would learn more about the
matter and find that she was blameless. He had been a fool to think
harshly of her, but he knew now that his first judgment was right. Clare,
who could not have done anything base and treacherous, was much too good
for him. This, however, was not the subject with which he meant to occupy
himself, because if he admitted that he hoped to marry Clare, there were
serious obstacles in his way.
To begin with, he had made it difficult, if not impossible, for the girl
to treat him with the friendliness she had previously shown; besides
which, Kenwardine would, no doubt, try to prevent his meeting her, and
his opposition would be troublesome. Then it was plainly desirable that
she should be separated from her father, who might involve her in his
intrigues, because there was ground for believing that he was a dangerous
man. In the next place, Dick was far from being able to support a wife
accustomed to the extravagance that Kenwardine practised. It might be
long before he could offer her the lowest standard of comfort necessary
for an Englishwoman in a hot, foreign country.
He felt daunted, but not altogether hopeless, and while he pondered the
matter Bethune came in. On the whole, Dick found his visit a relief.
"I expect you'll be glad to hear we can keep the machinery running,"
Bethune said as he sat down.
Dick nodded. Their fuel was nearly exhausted, for owing to strikes and
shortage of shipping Fuller had been unable to keep them supplied.
"Then you have got some coal? As there's none at Santa Brigida just now,
where's it coming from?"
"Adexe. Four big lighter loads. Stuyvesant has given orders to have them
towed round."
"I understood the Adexe people didn't keep a big stock. The wharf is
small."