In another few minutes a man came down the steps and threw off a rope before he jumped on board. Taking off his hat to the passengers, he started the engine and sat down at the helm. Clare did not see his face until the launch was gliding away from the wharf, and then hid her annoyance and surprise, for it was Brandon. His eyes rested on her for a moment as he glanced about the boat, but she saw he did not expect recognition. Perhaps she had been wrong when she passed him outside the cathedral, but it was now too late to change her attitude.
The water was smooth, the sun had sunk behind the range, and a warm breeze that ruffled the shining surface with silky ripples blew off the shore. The rumble of the surf came in a deep undertone through the throb of the engine, and the launch sped on with a frothy wave curling at her bows. Now and then Clare glanced quickly at the helmsman, who sat with his arm thrown round the tiller. She thought he looked disturbed, and felt sorry, though she told herself that she had done the proper thing.
After a time the launch swung in towards the beach and stopped at a rude landing behind a reef. Houses showed among the trees not far off and Clare thought this was the pueblo of Arenas. Then she was disturbed to see that all her companions were going to land. When the Spanish lady said good-by she got up, with the idea of following the rest, but Dick stopped her.
“Do you expect Mr. Kenwardine to meet you?” he asked.
“No. I was told the launch was going to Santa Brigida, but didn’t know that she was yours.”
Dick eyes twinkled. “I am going to Santa Brigida and the boat is one we use, but my colored fireman refused to leave the fiesta. Now you can’t stay at Arenas, and I doubt if you can get a mule to take you home, because they’ll all have gone to Adexe. But, if you like, we’ll go ashore and try.”
“You don’t think I could find a carriage?” Clare asked irresolutely, seeing that if she now showed herself determined to avoid him, it would be humiliating to be forced to fall back upon his help.
“I don’t. Besides, it’s some distance to Santa Brigida over a rough, steep road that you’d find very awkward in the dark, while as I can land you in an hour, it seems unnecessary for you to leave the boat here.”
“Yes,” said Clare, “perhaps it is.”
Dick threw some coal into the furnace, and restarted the launch. The throb of the engine was quicker than before, and when a jet of steam blew away from the escape-pipe Clare imagined that he meant to lose no time. She glanced at him as he sat at the helm with a moody face; and then away at the black hills that slid past. The silence was embarrassing and she wondered whether he would break it. On the whole, she wanted him to do so, but would give him no help.