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diff --git a/25164.txt b/25164.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6704c9a --- /dev/null +++ b/25164.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15484 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Flag of Distress, by Mayne Reid + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Flag of Distress + A Story of the South Sea + +Author: Mayne Reid + +Release Date: April 25, 2008 [EBook #25164] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLAG OF DISTRESS *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + + + + +The Flag of Distress, by Captain Mayne Reid. + +________________________________________________________________________ +This long and at times very amusing story starts off with the sighting +of a barque under full sail in mid-Pacific, and wearing the Chilian flag +upside down. For a vessel to wear its ensign inverted is a known sign +of distress, so that the British naval vessel that sights her has to try +to board her, to render assistance. But the barque is a good sailer, +and does not reduce her sail or heave-to. She appears to have only two +men on board, rather strangely dressed in reddish fur clothing. + +How this strange state of affairs arose takes the whole book to tell. +The captain of the barque and his passenger have been tied so securely +that they cannot move; the crew are no longer on board; the two men in +reddish fur turn out to be orang-outangs. + +Reid was an excellent writer, credited with being the first to write in +the Wild-West genre. This book, with its background of the sea, is out +of his usual line, but it is nevertheless a quite brilliant book. You +will enjoy the part of the story that takes place on the sea-front of +San Francisco of 1849. + +It makes an excellent audiobook, if you can cope with the numerous words +of unusual spelling, to represent the speech of illiterate seamen, and +the Spanish words. The latter are also to be found in Reid's Wild-West +novels. For some reason Reid often uses a few French phrases, but that +was not unusual at the time he wrote. + +________________________________________________________________________ +THE FLAG OF DISTRESS, BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID. + + + +CHAPTER ONE. + +A CHASE. + +In mid-ocean--the Pacific. Two ships within sight of one another, less +than a league apart. Both sailing before the wind, running dead down it +with full canvas spread--not side by side, but one in the wake of the +other. + +Is it a chase? To all appearance, yes; a probability strengthened by +the relative size and character of the vessels. One is a barque, +polacca-masted, her masts raking back with the acute shark's-fin set +supposed to be characteristic of piratical craft. The other is a ship, +square-rigged and full sized; a row of real, not painted, ports, with a +gun grinning out of each, proclaiming her a man-of-war. + +She is one--a frigate, as any seaman would say, after giving her a +glance. And any landsman might name her nationality. The flag at her +peak is one known all over the world: it is the ensign of England. + +If it be a chase, she is the pursuer. Her colours might be accepted as +surety of this, without regard to the relative position of the vessels; +which show the frigate astern, the polacca leading. + +The latter also carries a flag--of nationality not so easily determined. +Still it is the ensign of a naval power, though one of little note. +The five-pointed white star, solitary in a blue field, proclaims it the +standard of Chili. + +Why should an English frigate be chasing a Chilian barque? There is no +war between Great Britain and this, the most prosperous of the South +American republics; instead, peace-treaties, with relations of the most +amicable kind. Were the polacca showing colours blood-red, or black, +with death's-head and cross-bones, the chase would be intelligible. But +the bit of bunting at her masthead has nothing on its field either of +menace or defiance. On the contrary, it appeals to pity, and asks for +aid; for it is an ensign reversed--in short, a _signal of distress_. + +And yet the craft so signalling is on the scud before a stiff breeze, +with all sail set, stays taut, not a rope out of place! + +Strange this. So is it considered by every one aboard the man-of-war, +from the captain commanding to the latest joined "lubber of a +landsman"--a thought that has been in their minds ever since the chase +commenced. + +For it _is_ a chase: that is, the frigate has sighted a sail, and stood +towards it. This without changing course; as, when first espied, the +stranger, like herself, was running before the wind. If slowly, the +pursuer has, nevertheless, been gradually forging nearer the pursued; +till at length the telescope tells the latter to be a barque--at the +same time revealing her ensign reversed. + +Nothing strange in this, of itself; unfortunately, a sight too common at +sea. But that a vessel displaying signals of distress should be +carrying all sail, and running away, or attempting to do so, from +another making to relieve her--above all, from a ship bearing the +British flag--this _is_ strange. And just thus has the polacca been +behaving--still is; sailing on down the wind, without slacking +haulyards, or lessening her spread of canvas by a single inch! + +Certainly the thing seems odd. More than that--mysterious. + +To this conclusion have they come on board the warship. And, naturally +enough; for there is that which has imbued their thoughts with a tinge +of superstition. + +In addition to what they see, they have something _heard_. Within the +week they have spoken two vessels, both of which reported this same +barque, or one answering her description: "_Polacca-masted, all sail +set, ensign reversed_." + +A British brig, which the frigate's boat had boarded, said: That such a +craft had run across her bows, so close they could have thrown a rope to +her; that at first no one was observed on board; but on her being +hailed, two men made appearance, both springing up to the main-shrouds; +thence answering the hail in a language altogether unintelligible, and +with hoarse croaking voices that resembled the barking of muzzled +mastiffs! + +It was late twilight, almost night, when this occurred; but the brig's +people could make out the figures of the men, as these clung on to the +ratlines. And what seemed as surprising as their odd speech was, that +both appeared to be clothed in skin-dresses, covering their bodies from +head to foot! + +Seeing the signal of distress, the brig's commander would have sent a +boat aboard; but the barque gave no chance for this--keeping on without +slacking sail, or showing any other sign of a wish to communicate! + +Standing by itself, the tale of the brig's crew might have been taken +for a sailor's yarn; and as they admitted it to be "almost night," the +obscurity would account for the skin-clothing. But coupled with the +report of another vessel, which the frigate had afterwards spoken--a +whaler--it seemed to receive full corroboration. The words sent through +the whaler's trumpet were:-- + +"_Barque sighted, latitude 10 degrees 22 minutes South, longitude 95 +degrees West. Polacca-masted. All sail set. Ensign reversed. +Chilian. Men seen on board covered with red hair, supposed +skin-dresses. Tried to come up, but could not. Barque a fast sailer-- +went away down wind_." + +Already in receipt of such intelligence, it is no wonder that the +frigate's crew feel something more than mere curiosity about a vessel +corresponding to the one of which these queer accounts have been given. +For they are now near enough the barque to see that she answers the +description: "Polacca-masted--all sail set--ensign reversed--Chilian." + +And her behaviour is as reported: sailing away from those who would +respond to her appealing signal, to all appearance endeavouring to shun +them! + +Only now has the chase in reality commenced. Hitherto the frigate was +but keeping her own course. But the signal of distress, just sighted +through the telescope, has drawn her on; and with canvas crowded, she +steers straight for the polacca. + +The latter is unquestionably a fast sailer; but although too swift for +the brig and whaler, she is no match for the man-of-war. Still she +makes quick way, and the chase is likely to be a long one. + +As it continues, and the distance does not appear very much, or very +rapidly, diminishing, the frigate's people begin to doubt whether she +will ever be overtaken. On the fore-deck the tars stand in groups, +mingled with marines, their eyes bent upon the retreating craft, making +their comments in muttered tones, many of the men with brows o'ercast. +For a fancy has sprung up around the forecastle, that the chased barque +is no barque at all, but a _phantom_! This is gradually growing into a +belief; firmer as they draw nearer, and with naked eye note her +correspondence with the reports of the spoken vessels. + +They have not yet seen the skin-clad men--if men they be. More like, +imagine some, they will prove _spectres_! + +While on the quarterdeck there is no such superstitious thought, a +feeling almost as intense agitates the minds of those there assembled. +The captain, surrounded by his officers, stands glass in hand gazing at +the sail ahead. The frigate, though a fine sailer, is not one of the +very fastest, else she might long ago have lapped upon the polacca. +Still has she been gradually gaining, and is now less than a league +astern. + +But the breeze has been also declining, which is against her; and for +the last half-hour she has barely preserved her distance from the +barque. + +To compensate for this, she runs out studding-sails on all her yards, +even to the royals; and again makes an effort to bring the chase to a +termination. But again to suffer disappointment. + +"To no purpose, now," says her commander, seeing his last sail set. +Then adding, as he casts a glance at the sky, sternwards, "The wind's +going down. In ten minutes more we'll be becalmed." + +Those around need not be told this. The youngest reefer there, looking +at sky and sea, can forecast a calm. + +In five minutes after, the frigate's sails go flapping against the +masts, and her flag hangs half-folded. + +In five more, the canvas only shows motion by an occasional clout; while +the bunting droops dead downward. + +Within the ten, as her captain predicted, the huge warship lies +motionless on the sea--its surface around her smooth as a swan-pond. + + + +CHAPTER TWO. + +A CALL FOR BOARDERS. + +The frigate is becalmed--what of the barque? Has she been similarly +stayed in her course? + +The question is asked by all on board the warship, each seeking the +answer for himself. For all are earnestly gazing at the strange vessel +regardless of their own condition. + +Forward, the superstitious thought has become intensified into something +like fear. A calm coming on so suddenly, just when they had hopes of +overhauling the chase! What could that mean? Old sailors shake their +heads, refusing to make answer; while young ones, less cautious of +speech, boldly pronounce the polacca to be a spectre! + +The legends of the _Phantom Ship_ and _Flying Dutchman_ are in their +thoughts, and on their lips, as they stand straining their eyes after +the still receding vessel; for beyond doubt she is yet moving on with +waves rippling around her! + +"As I told ye, mates," remarks an old tar, "we'd never catch up with +that craft--not if we stood after her till doomsday. And doomsday it +might be for us, if we did." + +"I hope she'll hold her course, and leave us a good spell behind," +rejoins a second. "It was a foolish thing followin' her; for my part, +I'll be glad if we never do catch up with her." + +"You need have no fear about it," says the first speaker. "Just look! +She's making way yet! I believe she can sail as well without a wind as +with one." + +Scarce are the words spoken, when, as if to contradict them, the sails +of the chased vessel commence clouting against the masts; while her flag +falls folded, and is no longer distinguishable either as signal of +distress, or any other. The breeze that failed the frigate is also now +dead around the barque, which, in like manner, has been caught in the +calm. + +"What do you make her out, Mr Black?" asks the frigate's captain of his +first, as the two stand looking through their levelled glasses. + +"Not anything, sir," replies the lieutenant; "except that she should be +Chilian from her colours. I can't see a soul aboard of her. Ah, +yonder! Something shows over the taffrail! Looks like a man's head! +It's down again--ducked suddenly." + +A short silence succeeds, the commanding officer, busied with his +binocular, endeavouring to catch sight of the thing seen by his +subordinate. It does not appear again. + +"Odd!" says the captain, resuming speech; "a ship running up signals of +distress, at the same time refusing to be relieved! Very odd, isn't it, +gentlemen?" he asks, addressing himself to the group of officers now +gathered around; who all signify assent to his interrogatory. + +"There must be something amiss," he continues. "Can any of you think +what it is?" + +To this there is a negative response. They are as much puzzled as +himself--mystified by the strange barque, and more by her strange +behaviour. + +There are two, however, who have thoughts different from the rest--the +third lieutenant, and one of the midshipmen. Less thoughts than +imaginings; and these so vague, that neither communicates them to the +captain, nor to one another. And whatever their fancies, they do not +appear pleasant ones; since on the faces of both is an expression of +something like anxiety. Slight and little observable, it is not noticed +by their comrades standing around. But it seems to deepen, while they +continue to gaze at the becalmed barque, as though due to something +there observed. Still they remain silent, keeping the dark thought, if +such it be, to themselves. + +"Well, gentlemen," says the commanding officer to his assembled +subordinates, "I must say this _is_ singular. In all my experience at +sea, I don't remember anything like it. What trick the Chilian barque-- +if she be Chilian--is up to, I can't guess; not for the life of me. It +cannot be a case of piracy. The craft has no guns; and if she had, she +appears without men to handle them. It's a riddle all round; to get the +reading of which, we'll have to send a boat to her." + +"I don't think we'll get a very willing crew, sir," says the first +lieutenant jestingly. "Forward, they're quite superstitious about the +character of the stranger. Some of them fancy her the _Flying +Dutchman_. When the boatswain pipes for boarders, they'll feel as if +his whistle were a signal for them to walk the plank." + +The remark causes the captain to smile, as also the other officers; +though two of the latter abstain from such cheerful demonstration--the +third lieutenant and midshipman, already mentioned, on both of whose +brows the cloud still sits, seeming darker than ever. + +"It's a very remarkable thing," observes the commander, musingly, "how +that sort of feeling still affects the forecastle! For your genuine +British tar, who'll board an enemy's ship, crawling across the muzzle of +a shotted gun, and has no fear of death in human shape, will act like a +scared child when it threatens him in the guise of his Satanic majesty! +I have no doubt, as you say, Mr Black, that our lads forward are a bit +shy about boarding yonder vessel. Let me show you how to send their +shyness adrift. I'll do that with a single word!" + +The captain steps forward, his subordinates following him. When within +speaking distance of the fore-deck, he stops, and makes sign he has +something to say. The tars are all attention. + +"Men!" he exclaims, "you see that barque we've been chasing; and at her +masthead a flag reversed--which you know to be a signal of distress? +That is a call never to be disregarded by an English ship, much less an +English man-of-war. Lieutenant! order a boat lowered, and the boatswain +to pipe for boarders. Those of you who wish to go, muster on the +main-deck." + +A loud "hurrah!" responds to the appeal; and, while its echoes are still +resounding through the ship, the whole crew comes crowding towards the +main-deck. Scores of volunteers present themselves, enough to man every +boat in the frigate. + +"So, gentlemen!" says the captain, turning to his officers with a proud +expression on his countenance, "there's the British sailor for you. +I've said he fears not man. And, when humanity makes call, as you see, +neither is he frightened at ghost or devil!" + +A second cheer succeeds the speech, mingled with good-humoured remarks, +though not much laughter. The sailors simply acknowledge the compliment +their commanding officer has paid them, at the same time feeling that +the moment is too solemn for merriment; for their instinct of humanity +is yet under control of the weird feeling. + +As the captain turns aft to the quarter, many of them fall away toward +the fore-deck, till the group of volunteers becomes greatly diminished. +Still there are enough to man the largest boat in the frigate, or fight +any crew the chased craft may carry, though these should prove to be +pirates of the most desperate kind. + + + +CHAPTER THREE. + +FORECASTLE FEARS. + +"What boat is it to be, sir?" + +This question is asked by the first lieutenant, who has followed the +captain to the quarter. + +"The cutter," replies his superior; "there seems no need, Mr Black, to +send anything larger, at least till we get word of what's wanted. +Possibly it's a case of sickness--scurvy or something. Though that +would be odd too, seeing how the barque keeps her canvas spread. Very +queer altogether!" + +"Is the doctor to go?" + +"He needn't, till we've heard what it is. He'd only have to come back +for his drugs and instruments. You may instruct him to be getting them +ready. Meanwhile, let the boat be off, and quick. When they bring back +their report we'll see what's to be done. The cutter's crew will be +quite sufficient. As to any hostility from those on board the stranger, +that's absurd. We could blow her out of the water with a single +broadside." + +"Who's to command the boat, sir?" + +The captain reflects, with a look cast inquiringly around. His eye +falls upon the third lieutenant, who stands near, seemingly courting the +glance. + +It is short and decisive. The captain knows his third officer to be a +thorough seaman; though young, capable of any duty, however delicate or +dangerous. Without further hesitation he assigns him to the command of +the cutter. + +The young officer enters upon the service with alacrity--as if moved by +something more than the mere obedience due to discipline. He hastens to +the ship's side to superintend the lowering of the boat. Nor does he +stand at rest, but is seen to help and hurry it, with a look of restless +impatience in his eye, and the shadow still observable on his brow. + +While thus occupied, he is accosted by another officer, one yet younger +than himself--the midshipman already mentioned. + +"Can I go with you?" the latter asks, as if addressing an equal. + +"Certainly, my dear fellow," responds the lieutenant, in like familiar +tone. "I shall be only too pleased to have you. But you must get the +captain's consent." + +The young reefer glides aft, sees the frigate's commander upon the +quarterdeck, and saluting, says: + +"Captain, may I go with the cutter?" + +"Well, yes," responds the chief; "I have no objection." Then, after +taking a survey of the youngster, he adds, "Why do you wish it?" + +The youth blushes, without replying. There is a cast upon his +countenance that strikes the questioner, somewhat puzzling him. But +there is no time either for further inquiry or reflection. The cutter +has been lowered, and rests upon the water. Her crew is crowding into +her; and she will soon be moving off from the ship. + +"You can go, lad," assents the captain. "Report yourself to the third +lieutenant, and tell him I have given you leave. You're young, and, +like all youngsters, ambitious of gaining glory. Well; in this affair +you won't have much chance. I take it. It's simply boarding a ship in +distress, where you're more likely to be a spectator to scenes of +suffering. However, that will be a lesson for you; therefore you can +go." + +Thus authorised, the mid hurries away from the quarterdeck, drops down +into the boat, and takes seat alongside the lieutenant, already there. + +"Shove off!" commands the latter; and with a push of boat-hook, and +plashing of oars, the cutter parts from the ship's side, cleaving the +water like a knife. + +The two vessels still lie becalmed, in the same relative position to one +another, having changed from it scarce a cable's length. And stem to +stern, just as the last breath of the breeze, blowing gently against +their sails, forsook them. + +On both, the canvas is still spread, though not bellied. It hangs limp +and loose, giving an occasional flap, so feeble as to show that this +proceeds not from any stir in the air, but the mere balancing motion of +the vessels. For there is now not enough breeze blowing to flout the +long feathers in the tail of the Tropic bird, seen soaring aloft. + +Both are motionless; their forms reflected in the water, as if each had +its counterpart underneath, keel to keel. + +Between them, the sea is smooth as a mirror--that tranquil calm which +has given to the Pacific its distinctive appellation. It is now only +disturbed, where furrowed by the keel of the cutter, with her stroke of +ten oars, five on each side. Parting from the frigate's beam, she is +steering straight for the becalmed barque. + +On board the man-of-war all stand watching her--their eyes at intervals +directed towards the strange vessel. From the frigate's forward-deck, +the men have an unobstructed view, especially those clustering around +the head. Still there is nearly a league between, and with the naked +eye this hinders minute observation. They can but see the white-spread +sails, and the black hull underneath them. With a glass the flag, now +fallen, is just distinguishable from the mast along which it clings +closely. They can perceive that its colour is crimson above, with blue +and white underneath--the reversed order of the Chilian ensign. Its +single star is no longer visible, nor aught of that heraldry, which +spoke so appealingly. But if what they see fails to furnish them with +details, these are amply supplied by their excited imaginations. Some +of them can make out men aboard the barque--scores, hundreds! After +all, she may be a pirate, and the upside-down ensign a decoy. On a +tack, she might be a swifter sailer than she has shown herself before +wind; and, knowing this, has been but "playing possum" with the frigate. +If so, God help the cutter's crew? + +Besides these conjectures of the common kind, there are those on the +frigate's fore-deck who, in very truth, fancy the polacca to be a +spectre. As they continue gazing, now at the boat, now at the barque, +they expect every moment to see the one sink beneath the sea; and the +other sail off, or melt into invisible air! On the quarter, speculation +is equally rife, though running in a different channel. There the +captain still stands surrounded by his officers, each with glass to his +eye, levelled upon the strange craft. But they can perceive nought to +give them a clue to her character; only the loose flapping sails, and +the furled flag of distress. + +They continue gazing till the cutter is close to the barque's beam. For +then do they observe any head above the bulwarks, or face peering +through the shrouds! + +The fancy of the forecastle seems to have crept aft among the officers. +They, too, begin to feel something of superstitious fear--an awe of the +uncanny! + + + +CHAPTER FOUR. + +THE CUTTER'S CREW. + +Manned by ten stout tars, and as many oars propelling her, the cutter +continues her course with celerity. The lieutenant, seated in the +stern-sheets, with the midshipman by his side, directs the movements of +the boat; while the glances of both are kept constantly upon the barque. +In their eyes is an earnest expression--quite different from that of +ordinary interrogation. + +The men may not observe it; if they do, it is without comprehension of +its meaning. They can but think of it as resembling their own, and +proceeding from a like cause. For although with backs turned towards +the barque, they cast occasional glances over their shoulders, in which +curiosity is less observable than apprehension. + +Despite their natural courage, strengthened by the late appeal to their +humanity, the awe is strong upon them. Insidiously returning as they +took their seats in the boat, it increases as they draw farther from the +frigate and nearer to the barque. Less than half-an-hour has elapsed, +and they are now within a cable's length of the strange vessel. + +"Hold!" commands the lieutenant. + +The oar-stroke is instantly suspended, and the blades held aloft. The +boat gradually loses way, and at length rests stationary on the tranquil +water. + +All eyes are bent upon the barque; glances go searchingly along her +bulwarks, from poop to prow. + +No preparations to receive them! No one appears on deck--not a head +raised over the rail! + +"Barque ahoy!" hails the lieutenant. + +"Barque ahoy!" is heard in fainter tone; but not in answer. Only the +echo of the officer's voice, coming back from the hollow timbers of the +becalmed vessel! There is again silence, more profound then ever. For +the sailors in the boat have ceased talking; their awe, now intense, +holding them speechless and as if spellbound! + +"Barque ahoy!" again shouted the lieutenant, louder than before, but +with like result. As before, he is only answered by echo. There is +either nobody on board, or no one who thinks it worth while to make +rejoinder. + +The first supposition seems absurd, looking at the sails; the second +equally so, regarding the flag at the main-royal masthead, and taking +into account its character. + +A third hail from the officer, this time vociferated in loudest voice, +with the interrogatory added: + +"Any one aboard there?" + +To the question no reply, any more than to the hail. + +Silence continues--stillness profound, awe-inspiring. They in the boat +begin to doubt the evidence of their senses. Is there a barque before +their eyes? Or is it all an illusion? How can a vessel be under sail-- +full sail--without sailors? And if any, why do they not show at her +side? Why have they not answered the hail thrice given; the last time +loud enough to be heard within the depths of her hold? It should have +awakened her crew, even though all were asleep in the forecastle! + +"Give way again!" cries the lieutenant. "Bring up on the starboard +side, coxswain! Under the forechains." + +The oars are dipped, and the cutter moves on. But scarce is she in +motion, when once more the officer commands "Hold!" + +With his voice mingle others, coming from the barque. Her people seem +at length to have become aroused from their sleep, or stupor. A noise +is heard upon her deck, as of a scuffle, accompanied by cries of strange +intonation. + +Presently two heads, apparently human, show above the bulwarks; two +faces flesh-coloured, and thinly covered with hair! Then two bodies +appear, also human-like, save that they are hairy all over--the hair of +a foxy red! They swarm up the shrouds; and clutching the ratlines shake +them, with quick violent jerks; at the same time uttering what appears +angry speech in an unknown tongue, and harsh voice, as if chiding off +the intruders. They go but a short way up the shrouds, just as far as +they could spring from the deck, and only stay there for an instant; +then dropping down again, disappear as abruptly and unceremoniously as +they had presented themselves! + +The lieutenant's command to "Hold!" was a word thrown away. Without it +the men would have discontinued their stroke. They have done so: and +sit with bated breath, eyes strained, ears listening, and lips mute, as +if all had been suddenly and simultaneously struck dumb. Silence +throughout the boat--silence aboard the barque--silence everywhere: the +only sound heard being the "drip-drop" of the water as it falls from the +feathered oar-blades. + +For a time the cutter's crew remains mute, not one essaying to speak a +word. They are silent, less from surprise than sheer stark terror. +Fear is depicted on their faces and observable in their attitudes, as no +wonder it should. What they have just seen is sufficient to terrify the +stoutest hearts--even those of tried tars, as all of them are. A ship +manned by hairy men--a crew of veritable Orsons! Certainly enough to +startle the most phlegmatic mariner, and make him tremble as he tugs at +his oar. But they have ceased tugging at their oars, and hold them, +blades suspended. Almost the same is their breath. One alone, at +length, musters sufficient courage to mutter: + +"Gracious goodness, shipmates! what can it all mean?" + +He receives no answer, though his question brings the silence to an end. +It is now further broken by the voice of the lieutenant, as also that +of the midshipman. They do not speak simultaneously, but one after the +other. The superstitious fear pervading the minds of the men does not +extend to them. They too have their fears, but of a different kind, and +from a different cause. As yet neither has communicated to the other +what he himself has been thinking; the thoughts of both being hitherto +vague, though every moment becoming more defined. And the appearance of +the red men upon the ratlines--strange to the sailors--seems to have +made things more intelligible to them. Judging by the expression upon +their faces, they comprehend what is puzzling their companions. And +with a sense of anxiety more than fear--more of doubt than dismay. + +The lieutenant speaks first, shouting in command: + +"Give way! Quick! Pull in! Head on for the forechains!" + +He acts in an excited manner, appearing nervously impatient. And, as if +mechanically, the midshipman repeats the order, imitating the mien of +his superior. The men execute it, but slowly, and with seeming +reluctance. They know their officers to be daring fellows, both. But +now they deem them rash, even to recklessness. For they cannot +comprehend the motives urging them to action. Still they obey; and the +prow of the boat strikes the barque abeam. + +"Grapple on!" commands the senior officer soon as touching. + +A boat-hook takes grip in the chains; and the cutter, swinging round, +lies at rest alongside. + +The lieutenant has already risen to his feet, as also the mid. Ordering +only the coxswain to follow, they spring to the chains, lay hold, and +lift themselves aloft. + +Obedient to orders, the men remain in the boat, still keeping seat on +the thwarts, in wonder at the bold bearing of their officers--at the +same time admiring it. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE. + +A FEAST UNFINISHED. + +Having gained the bulwarks, the two officers, balancing themselves on +the rail, look down over the decks of the polacca. Their glances sweep +these forward, aft, and amidships--ranging from stem to stern, and back +again. + +Nothing seen there to explain the strangeness of affairs; nothing heard. +No sailor on the fore-deck, nor officer on the quarter! Only the two +queer creatures that had shown themselves on the shrouds. These are +still visible, one of them standing by the mainmast, the other crouching +near the caboose. Both again give out their jabbering speech, +accompanying it with gestures of menace. + +Disregarding this, the lieutenant leaps down upon the deck, and makes +towards them; the mid and coxswain keeping close after. + +At their approach, the hirsute monsters retreat; not scared-like, but +with a show of defiance, as if disposed to contest possession of the +place. They give back, however, bit by bit, till at length, ceasing to +dispute, they shuffle off over the quarter, and on to the poop. + +Neither of the two officers pays any attention to their demonstrations; +and the movement aft is not made for them. Both lieutenant and +midshipman seem excited by other thoughts--some strong impulse urging +them on. Alone is the coxswain mystified by the hairy men, and not a +little alarmed; but, without speaking, he follows his superiors. + +All continue on toward the quarterdeck, making for the cabin-door. +Having boarded the barque by the forechains, they must pass the caboose +going aft. Its sliding panel is open, and when opposite, the three come +to a stand. They are brought to it by a faint cry, issuing out of the +cook's quarters. + +Looking in, they behold a spectacle sufficiently singular to detain +them. It is more than singular--it is startling. On the bench, in +front of the galley-fire--which shows as if long-extinguished--sits a +man, bolt upright, his back against the bulkhead. Is it a man, or but +the semblance of one? Certainly it is a human figure; or, speaking more +precisely, a human skeleton with the skin still on; this black as the +coal-cinders in the grate in front of it! + +It is a man--a negro. And living; since at sight of them he betrays +motion, and makes an attempt to speak. + +Only the coxswain stays to listen, or hear what he has to say. The +others hurry on aft, making direct for the cabin, which, being between +decks, is approached by a stairway. + +Reaching this, they rush down, and stand before the door, which they +find shut. Only closed, not locked. It yields to the turning of the +handle; and, opening, gives them admission. + +They enter hastily, one after the other, without ceremony or +announcement. Once inside, they as quickly come to a stop, both looking +aghast. The spectacle in the caboose was nought to what is now before +their eyes. That was but startling; this is appalling. + +It is the main-cabin they have entered; not a large one, for the polacca +has not been constructed to carry passengers. Still is it snug, and +roomy enough for a table six feet by four. Such a one stands in the +centre, its legs fixed in the floor, with four chairs around it, +similarly stanchioned. + +On the table there are decanters and dishes, alongside glasses and +plates. It is a dessert service, and on the dishes are fruits, cakes, +and sweetmeats, with fragments of the same on the plates. The decanters +contain wines of different sorts; and there are indications of wine +having been poured out into the glasses--some of them still containing +it. There are four sets, corresponding to the four chairs; and, to all +appearance, this number of guests have been seated at the table. But +two of the chairs are empty, as if those who occupied them had retired +to an inner state-room. It is the side-seats that are vacant, and a fan +lying on one, with a scarf over the back of that opposite, proclaim +their last occupants to have been ladies. + +Two guests are still at the table; one at its head, the other at the +foot, facing each other. And such guests! Both are men, though, unlike +him in the caboose, they are white men. But, like him, they also appear +in the extreme of emaciation: jaws with the skin drawn tightly over +them, cheekbones prominent, chin protruding, eyes sunken in their +sockets! + +Not dead neither; for their eyes, glancing and glaring, still show life. +But there is little other evidence of it. Sitting stiff in the chairs, +rigidly erect, they made no attempt to stir, no motion of either body or +limbs. It would seem as if from both all strength had departed, their +famished figures showing them in the last stages of starvation. And +this in front of a table furnished with choice wines, fruits, and other +comestibles--in short, loaded with delicacies! + +What can it mean? + +Not this question, but a cry comes from the lips of the two officers, +simultaneously from both, as they stand regarding the strange tableau. +Only for an instant do they thus stand. Then the lieutenant, rushing up +the stair, and on to the side, shouts out-- + +"Back to the ship, and bring the doctor! Row with all your might, men. +Away!" + +The boat's people, obedient, pull off with alacrity. They are but too +glad to get away from the suspected spot. As they strain at their oars, +with faces now turned towards the barque, and eyes wonderingly bent upon +her, they see nought to give them a clue to the conduct of their +officers, or in any way elucidate the series of mysteries, prolonged to +a chain and still continuing. One imbued with a belief in the +supernatural, shakes his head, saying-- + +"Shipmates! we may never see that lieutenant again; nor the young +reefer, nor the old cox--never!" + + + +CHAPTER SIX. + +"A PHANTOM SHIP--SURE!" + +During all this while those on board the man-of-war have been regarding +the barque--at the same time watching with interest every movement of +the boat. + +Only they who have glasses can see what is passing with any +distinctness. For the day is not a bright one, a haze over the sea +hindering observation. It has arisen since the fall of the wind, +perhaps caused by the calm; and, though but a mere film, at such far +distance interferes with the view through their telescopes. Those using +them can just tell that the cutter has closed in upon the strange +vessel, and is lying along under the foremast shrouds, while some of her +crew appear to have swarmed up the chains. This cannot be told for +certain. The haze around the barque is more dense than elsewhere, as if +steam were passing off from her sides, and through it objects show +confusedly. + +While the frigate's people are straining their eyes to make out the +movement of their boat, an officer, of sharper sight than the rest, +cries out-- + +"See! the cutter coming back!" + +All perceived this, and with some surprise. It is not ten minutes since +the boat grappled on to the barque. Why returning from her so soon? + +While they are conjecturing as to the cause, the same officer again +observes something that has escaped the others. There are but _eight_ +oars, instead of ten--the regulation strength of the cutter--and ten men +where before there were thirteen. Three of the boat's crew must have +remained behind. + +This causes neither alarm, nor uneasiness, to the frigate's officers. +They take it that the three have gone aboard the barque, and for some +reason, whatever it be, elected to stay there. They know the third +lieutenant to be not only a brave man, but one of quick decision, and +prompt also to act. He has boarded the distressed vessel, discovered +the cause of distress, and sends the cutter back to bring whatever may +be needed for her. Thus reasons the quarterdeck. + +It is different on the fore, where apprehensions are rife about their +missing shipmates--fears that some misfortune has befallen them. True, +no shots have been heard nor flashes seen. Still they could have been +killed without firearms. Savages might use other, and less noisy, +weapons. + +The tale of the skin-clad crew gives colour to this supposition. But +then the "cutters" went armed--in addition to their cutlasses, being +provided with pikes and boarding-pistols. Had they been attacked, they +would not have retreated without discharging these last--less likely +leaving three of their number behind. Besides no signs of strife or +struggle have been observed upon the barque. + +All the more mystery; and pondering upon it, the frigate's crew are +strengthened in their superstitious faith. Meanwhile, the cutter is +making way across the stretch of calm sea that separates the two ships, +and although with reduced strength of rowers, cleaves the water quickly. +The movements of the men indicate excitement. They pull as if rowing +in a regatta! Soon they are near enough to be individually recognised, +when it is seen that neither of the two officers is in the boat! Nor +the coxswain--one of the oarsmen having taken his place at the tiller. + +As the boat draws nearer, and the faces of the two men seated in the +stern-sheets can be distinguished, there is observed upon them an +expression which none can interpret. No one tries. All stand silently +waiting till the cutter comes alongside, and sweeping past the bows, +brings up on the frigate's starboard beam, under the main-chains. + +The officers move forward along the gangway, and stand looking over the +bulwarks; while the men come crowding aft, as far as permitted. + +The curiosity of all receives a check--an abrupt disappointment. There +is no news from the barque, save the meagre scrap contained in the +lieutenant's order: "Back to the ship, and bring the doctor." + +Beyond this the cutter's crew only knew that they have seen the hairy +men. Seen and heard them, though without understanding a word of what +these said. Two had sprung upon the shrouds, and shouted at the +cutter's people, as if scolding them off! + +The tale spreads through the frigate, fore and aft, quick as a train of +powder ignited. It is everywhere talked of, and commented on. On the +quarter, it is deemed strange enough; while forward, it further +intensifies the belief in something supernatural. + +The tars give credulous ear to one who cries out: "That's a phantom +ship--sure!" + +Their other comrade repeats what he said in the boat, and in the +self-same words: + +"Shipmates, we may never see that lieutenant again, nor the young +reefer, nor the old cox--never!" + +The boding speech appears like a prophecy, on the instant realised. +Scarce has it passed the sailor's lips, when a cry rings through the +frigate that startles all on board, thrilling them more intensely than +ever. + +While the men have been commenting upon the message brought back from +the barque, and the officers are taking steps to hasten its execution-- +the doctor getting out his instruments, with such medicines as the +occasion seems to call for--the strange vessel has been for a time +unthought of. + +The cry now raised recalls her, causing all to rush towards the +frigate's side, and once more bend their eyes on the barque. + +No, not _on_ her; only in the direction where she was last seen. For, +to their intense astonishment, _the polacca has disappeared_! + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN. + +A BLACK SQUALL. + +The surprise caused by the disappearance of the strange vessel is but +short-lived; explained by that very natural phenomenon--a fog. Not the +haze already spoken of; but a dense bank of dark vapour that, drifting +over the surface of the sea, has suddenly enveloped the barque within +its floating folds. + +It threatens to do the same with the frigate--as every sailor in her can +perceive. But though their wondering is at an end, a sense of undefined +fear still holds possession of them. Nor is this due to the fast +approaching fog. That could not frighten men who have dared every +danger of the deep, and oft groped their way through icy seas shrouded +in darkness almost amorphous. + +Their fears spring from the old fancy, that the other phenomena are not +natural. The fog of itself may be; but what brings it on, just then, at +a crisis, when they were speculating about the character of the chased +vessel, some doubting her honesty, others sceptical of her reality, not +a few boldly pronouncing her as a phantom? If an accident of nature, +certainly a remarkable one. + +The reader may smile at credulity of this kind; but not he who has mixed +among the men of the forecastle, whatever the nationality of the ship, +and whether merchantmen or man-of-war. Not all the training of naval +schools, nor the boasted enlightenment of this our age, has fully +eradicated from the mind of the canvas-clad mariner a belief in +something more than he has seen, or can see--something _outside_ nature. +To suppose him emancipated from this would be to hold him of higher +intelligence than his fellow-men, who stay ashore ploughing the soil, as +he does the sea. To thousands of these he can point, saying: "Behold +the believers in supernatural existences--in spirit-rappings--ay, in +very ghosts; this not only in days gone by, but now--now more than ever +within memory of man!" Then let not landsmen scoff at such fancies, not +a whit more absurd than their own credence in spiritualism. + +Aside from this sort of feeling in the warship, there is a real and far +more serious cause for apprehension, in which all have a share--officers +as men. A fog is before their eyes, apparently drifting towards them. +It has curtained the other vessel, spreading over her like a pall, and +will surely do the same with their own. They perceive, also, that it is +not a fog of the ordinary kind, but one that portends storm, sudden and +violent. For they are threatened by the _black squall_ of the Pacific. + +Enough in its name to cause uneasiness about the safety of their ship; +though not of her are they thinking. She is a strong vessel, and can +stand the sea's buffetings. Their anxiety is more for their shipmates, +whose peril all comprehend. They know the danger of the two vessels +getting separated in a fog. If they should, what will be the fate of +those who have gone aboard the barque? The strange craft had been +signalling distress. Is it scarcity of provisions, or want of water? +In either case she will be worse off than ever. It cannot be shortness +of hands to work her sails, with these all set! Sickness then? Some +scourge afflicting her crew--cholera, or yellow fever? Something of the +kind seems probable, by the lieutenant sending back for the doctor--and +the doctor only. + +Conjecturing ends, and suddenly. The time for action has arrived. The +dark cloud comes driving on, and is soon around the ship, lapping her in +its damp murky embrace. It clings to her bulwarks, pours over her +canvas still spread, wetting it till big drops clout down upon the deck. + +It is no longer a question of the surgeon starting forth on his errand +of humanity, nor the cutter returning to the becalmed barque. There +would be no more likelihood of discovering the latter, than of finding a +needle in a stack of straw. In such a fog, the finest ship that ever +sailed sea, with the smartest crew that ever vessel carried, would be +helpless as a man groping his way in dungeon darkness. + +There is no more thought of the barque, and not much about the absent +officers. Out of sight, they are for a time almost out of mind. For on +board the frigate every one has enough to do looking after himself and +his duties. Almost on the instant of her sails being enveloped in +vapour, they are struck by a strong wind, coming from a quarter directly +opposite to that for which they have been hitherto set. + +The voice of her commander, heard thundering through a trumpet, directs +all canvas to be instantly taken in. + +The order is executed with the promptness peculiar to a man-of-war; and +soon after, the huge ship is tossing amid tempestuous waves, with only +storm-sails set. + +A ship under storm-canvas is a sight always melancholy to the mariner. +It tells of a struggle with wind and wave, a serious conflict with the +elements, which may well cause anxiety. + +And such is the situation of the British frigate, soon as surrounded by +the fog. The sea, lately tranquil, is now madly raging; the waves +tempest-lashed, their crests like the manes of white horses going in +headlong gallop. Amid them the huge war-vessel, but the moment before +motionless--a leviathan, apparently the sea's lord--is now its slave, +and soon may be its victim. Dancing like a cork, she is buffeted from +billow to billow, or bounding into the trough between, as if cast there +in scorn. + +The frigate's crew is now fully occupied taking care of her, without +time to think about any other vessel--even one flying a flag of +distress. Ere long they may have to hoist the same signal themselves. +But there are skilled seamen aboard, who well know what to do--who watch +and ward every sea that comes sweeping along. Some of these tumble the +big ship about, till the steersmen feel her going almost regardless of +the rudder. + +There are but two courses left for safety, and her captain weighs the +choice between them. He must "lie to," and ride out the gale, or "scud" +before it. To do the latter may take him away from the strange vessel-- +now no longer seen--and she may never be sighted by them again. Ten +chances to one if she ever would; for _she_ may not elect to run down +the wind. Even if she did, there would be but slight hope of +overhauling her--supposing the storm to continue for any considerable +time. The probabilities are that she will lie to. As the naval +lieutenant will no doubt have control, he would order her sails to be +taken in. Surely he will not think of parting from that spot. + +Thus reflecting, the frigate's captain determines upon "lying to," and +keep as near the place as possible. Everything has been made snug, and +the ship's head set close to wind. + +Still, aboard of her, brave hearts are filled with fears and +forebodings, not for themselves, but the safety of their shipmates on +the barque. Both of the absent officers are favourites with their +comrades of the quarter, as with the crew. So too the coxswain who +accompanies them. What will be their fate? + +All are thinking of it, though no one offers a surmise. No one can tell +to what they have committed themselves. 'Tis only sure, that in the +tempest now raging there must be danger to the stranger craft, without +counting that signalised by the reversed ensign--without thought of the +mystery already enwrapping her. The heart of every one on board the +warship is beating with humanity, as pulsing with pent-up fear. And +while the waves are pitching her almost on her beam-ends--while winds +are rattling loud amidst her rigging--a yet louder sound mingles with +their monotone. It is given out at regularly measured intervals: for it +is the _minute-gun_ which the frigate has commenced firing--not as a +signal of distress, asking for assistance, but one of counsel and cheer, +seeking to give it. Every sixty seconds, amidst the wild surging of +waves, and the hoarse howling of winds, the louder boom of cannon breaks +their harsh continuity. + +The night comes down, adding to the darkness, though not much to the +dilemma in which the frigate is placed. The fog and storm combined have +already made her situation dangerous as might be; it could not well be +worse. + +Both continue throughout the night. And on through it all she keeps +discharging her signal-guns, though no one thinks of listening for a +response. In all probability there is no cannon aboard the barque-- +nothing that could give it. + +Close upon the hour of morning, the storm begins to abate, and the +clouds to dissipate. The fog seems to be lifting, or drifting off to +some other part of the ocean. + +And with hope again dawning comes the dawn of day. The frigate's +people--every man of them, officers and tars--are upon deck. They stand +along the ship's sides, ranged in rows by the bulwarks, looking out +across the sea. There is no fog now--not the thinnest film. The sky is +clear as crystal, and blue as a boat-race ribbon fresh unfolded; the sea +the same, its big waves no longer showing sharp white crests, but +rounded, and rolling lazily along. Over these the sailors look, +scanning the surface. Their gaze is sent to every quarter--every point +of the compass. The officers sweep the horizon with their glasses, +ranging around the circle where the two blues meet. But neither naked +eye nor telescope can discover aught there. Only sea and sky; an +albatross with pinions of grand spread, or a tropic bird, its long +tail-feathers trailing train-like behind it. No barque, polacca-rigged +or otherwise--no ship of any kind--no sign of sail--no canvas except a +full set of "courses" which the frigate herself has now set. She is +alone upon the ocean--in the mighty Pacific--a mere speck upon its +far-stretching illimitable expanse. + +Every man upon the war-vessel is imbued with a strange sense of sadness. +But all are silent--each inquiring of himself what has become of the +barque, and what the fate of their shipmates. + +One alone is heard speaking aloud, giving expression to a thought, +seeming common to all. It is the sailor who twice uttered the +prediction, which, for the third time, he repeats, now as the assertion +of a certainty. To the group gathered around him he says:-- + +"Shipmates, we'll never see that lieutenant again, nor the young reefer, +nor the old cox--never!" + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT. + +A FLEET OF MANY FLAGS. + +Scene, San Francisco, the capital of California. Time, the autumn of +1849; several weeks anterior to the chase recounted. + +A singular city the San Francisco of 1849; very different from that it +is to-day, and equally unlike what it was twelve months before the +aforesaid date, when the obscure village of Yerba Buena yielded up its +name, along with its site, entering on what may be termed a second +genesis. + +The little _pueblita_, port of the Mission Dolores, built of sun-dried +bricks--its petty commerce in hides and tallow represented by two or +three small craft annually arriving and departing--wakes up one morning +to behold whole fleets of ships sailing in through the "Golden Gate," +and dropping anchor in front of its shingly strand. They come from all +parts of the Pacific, from all the other oceans, from the ends of the +earth, carrying every kind of flag known to the nations. The whalesman, +late harpooning "fish" in the Arctic ocean, with him who has been +chasing "cachalot" in the Pacific or Indian; the merchantman standing +towards Australia, China, or Japan the traders among the South Sea +Islands; the coasters of Mexico, Chili, Peru; men-o'-war of every flag +and fashion, frigates, corvettes, and double-deckers; even Chinese junks +and Malayan prahus are seen setting into San Francisco Bay, and bringing +to beside the wharfless beach of Yerba Buena. + +What has caused this grand spreading of canvas, and commingling of queer +craft? What is still causing it; for still they come! The answer lies +in a little word of four letters; the same that from the beginning of +man's activity on earth has moved him to many things--too oft to deeds +of evil--_gold_. Some eighteen months before the Swiss emigrant Sutter, +scouring out his mill-race on a tributary of the Sacramento River, +observes shining particles among the mud. Taking them up, and holding +them in the hollow of his hand, he feels that they are heavy, and sees +them to be of golden sheen. And gold they prove, when submitted to the +test of the alembic. + +The son of Helvetia discovered the precious metal in grains, and +nuggets, interspersed with the drift of a fluvial deposit. They were +not the first found in California, but the first coming under the eyes +of European settlers--men imbued with the energy to collect, and carry +them to the far-off outside world. + +Less than two years have elapsed since the digging of Sutter's +mill-race. Meantime, the specks that scintillated in its ooze have been +transported over the ocean, and exhibited in great cities--in the +windows of brokers, and bullion merchants. The sight has proved +sufficient to thickly people the banks of the Sacramento--hitherto +sparsely settled--and cover San Francisco Bay with ships from every +quarter of the globe. + +Not only is the harbour of Yerba Buena crowded with strange craft, but +its streets with queer characters--adventurers of every race and clime-- +among whom may be heard an exchange of tongues, the like never listened +to since the abortive attempt at building the tower of Babel. + +The Mexican mud-walled dwellings soon disappear--swallowed up and lost +amidst the modern surrounding of canvas tents, and weather-board houses, +that rise as by magic around them. A like change takes place in their +occupancy. No longer the tranquil interiors--the _tertulia_, with +guests sipping aniseed, curacoa, and Canario--munching sweet cakes and +_confituras_. Instead, the houses inside now ring with boisterous +revelry, with a perfume of mint and Monongahela; and although the guitar +still tinkles, it is almost inaudible amid the louder strains of +clarionet, fiddle, and French horn. + +What a change in the traffic of the streets! No more silent, at certain +hours deserted for the _siesta_, at others trodden by sandalled monks +and shovel-hatted priests--both bold of gaze, when passing the dark-eyed +damsels in high shell-combs and black silk mantillas; bolder still, +saluting the brown-skinned daughters of the aboriginal wrapped in their +blue-grey _rebozos_. No more trodden by garrison soldiers in uniforms +of French cut and colour; by officers glittering in gold lace; by +townsmen in cloaks of broadcloth; by country gentlemen (haciendados) on +horseback; and herdsmen, or small farmers (rancheros) in their splendid +Californian costume. + +True, some of these are still seen, but not as of yore, swaggering and +conspicuous. Amid the concourse of new-comers they move timidly, +jostled by rough men in red flannel shirts, buckskin and blanket coats, +with pistols in their belts, and knives hanging handy along their hips. +By others equally formidable, in Guernsey frocks, or wearing the +dreadnought jacket of the sailor; not a few scarce clothed at all, +shrouding their nakedness in such rags as remain after a long journey +overland, or a longer voyage by sea. + +In all probability, since its beginning, the world never witnessed so +motley an assemblage of men, tramping through the streets of a seaport +town, as those seen in Yerba Buena, rebaptised San Francisco, in the +year of our Lord 1849. + +And perhaps never a more varied display of bunting in one bay. In all +certainty, harbour never held so large a fleet of ships with so few men +to man them. At least one-half are crewless, and a goodly portion of +the remainder almost so. Many have but their captains and mates, with, +it may be, the carpenter and cook. The forecastle fellows are ashore, +and but few of them intend returning aboard. They are either gone off +to the gold-diggings, or are going. There has been a general +_debandade_ among the Jack-tars--leaving many a merry deck in forlorn +and silent solitude. + +In this respect there is a striking contrast between the streets of the +town and the ships lying before it. In the former, an eager throng, +pushing, jostling, surging noisily along, with all the impatience of men +half-mad; in the latter, tranquillity, inaction, the torpor of lazy +life, as if the vessels--many of them splendid craft--were laid up for +good, and never again going to sea. And many never did--their hulks to +this day, like the skeletons of stranded whales, are seen lying along +that beach which was once Yerba Buena! + + + +CHAPTER NINE. + +A BRACE OF BRITISH OFFICERS. + +Notwithstanding the abnormal condition of naval affairs above described, +and the difficulties to be dealt with, not all the vessels in San +Francisco Bay are crewless. A few still retain their full complement of +hands--these being mostly men-of-war, whose strict discipline prevents +desertion, though it needs strategy to assist. They ride at anchor far +out, beyond swimming distance from the beach, and will not allow +shore-boats to approach them. The tar who attempts to take French leave +will have a severe swim for it; perchance get a shot sent after, that +may send him to the bottom of the sea. With this menace constantly +before their minds, even California's gold does not tempt many to run +the dangerous gauntlet. + +Among the craft keeping up this iron discipline is one that bears the +British flag--a man-of-war, conspicuous by her handsome hull and clean +tapering spars. Her sails are stowed snug, lashed neatly along the +yards; in her rigging not a rope out of place. Down upon her decks, +white as holystone can make them, the same regularity is observable; +every rope coiled, every brace trimly turned upon its belaying-pin. It +could not be otherwise with the frigate _Crusader_, commanded by Captain +Bracebridge--a sailor of the old school, who takes a pride in his ship. +He has managed to retain his crew--every man-Jack of them. There is not +a name on the frigate's books but has its representative in a live +sailor, who can either be seen upon her decks, or at any moment summoned +thither by the whistle of the boatswain. Even if left to themselves, +but few of the "crusaders" would care to desert. Gold itself cannot +lure them to leave a ship where things are so agreeable; for Captain +Bracebridge does all in his power to make matters pleasant, for men as +well as officers. He takes care that the former get good grub, and +plenty of it--including full rations of grog. He permits them to have +amusements among themselves; while the officers treat them to +_tableaux-vivants_, charades, and private theatricals. To crown all, a +grand ball has been given aboard the ship, in anticipation of her +departure from the port--an event near at hand--at which more than one +of her officers have made acquaintances they would wish to meet again-- +two of them desiring this with longings of a special kind. These last +have fallen in love with a brace of shore damsels, with whom they had +danced, and done a little flirting at the ball. + +It is the third day after, and these love-struck gentlemen are standing +upon the poop-deck, conversing about it. They are apart from their +comrades--purposely, since their speech is confidential. Both are young +men; the elder, by name Crozier, being a year or two over twenty; while +the younger, Will Cadwallader, is almost as much under it. Crozier has +passed his term of probationary service, and is now "mate;" while the +other is still but a "midshipmite." And a type of this last, just as +Marryat would have made him; bright face, light-coloured hair, curling +over cheeks ruddy as the bloom upon a Ribston pippin. For he is Welsh, +with eyes of that turquoise blue often observed in the descendants of +the Cymri, and hair of aureous hue. + +Quite different is Edward Crozier, who hails from an ancestral hall in +the East Riding of York. His hair, also curling, is dark brown; his +complexion in correspondence. Moustaches already well grown. An +acquiline nose and broad jaw-blades denote resolution--a character borne +out by the glance of an eye that shows no quailing. He is of medium +size, with a figure denoting strength, and capable of great endurance-- +in short, carrying out any resolve his mind may make. In point of +personal appearance he is the superior; though both are handsome +fellows, each in his own style. + +And as the styles are different, so are their dispositions--these rather +contrasting. Crozier is of a serious, sedate turn and, though anything +but morose, rarely given to mirth; while, from the countenance of +Cadwallader the laugh is scarce ever absent, and the dimple on his +cheek--to employ a printer's phrase--appears stereotyped. With the +young Welshman a joke might be carried to extremes, and he would only +seek his _revanche_ by a lark of like kind. But with him of Yorkshire, +practical jesting would be dangerous. + +Notwithstanding this difference of disposition, the two officers are +fast friends; a fact perhaps due to the dissimilitude of their natures. +When not separated by their respective duties, they keep habitually +together on board the ship, and together go ashore. And now, for the +first time in the lives of both, they have commenced making love +together. Fortune has favoured them in this, that they are not in love +with the same lady. Still further, that their sweethearts do not dwell +apart, but live under the same roof, and belong to one family. They are +not sisters, for all that; nor yet cousins, though standing in a certain +relationship. One is the aunt of the other. + +Such kinship might argue inequality of age. There is none, however, or +only a very little: scarce so much as between the young officers +themselves. The aunt is but a year or so the senior of her niece. And +as Fate has willed, the lots of the lovers have been cast to correspond +in proper symmetry and proportion. Crozier is in love with the former-- +Cadwallader with the latter. + +Their sweethearts are both Spanish, of the purest blood, the boasted +_sangre azul_. They are, respectively, daughter and grand-daughter of +Don Gregorio Montijo, whose house can be seen from the ship: a mansion +of imposing appearance, in the Mexican _hacienda_ style, set upon the +summit of a hill, at some distance inshore, and southward from the town. + +While conversing, the young officers have their eyes upon it--one of the +two assisting his vision with a telescope. It is Cadwallader who uses +the instrument. + +Holding it to his eye, he says: + +"I think I can see them, Ned. At all events, there are two heads on the +house-top, just showing over the parapet. I'll take odds it's them, the +dear girls. I wonder if they see us." + +"I should say, not likely; unless, as yourself, they're provided with a +telescope." + +"By Jove! I believe they've got one. I see something glance. My Inez +has it to her eye, I'll warrant." + +"More likely it's my Carmen. Give me that glass. For all those blue +eyes you're so proud of, I can sight a sail farther than you." + +"A sail, yes; but not a pretty face, Ned. No, no; you're blind to +beauty; else you'd never have taken on to the old aunt, leaving the +niece to me. Ha, ha, ha!" + +"Old, indeed! She's as young as yours, if not younger. One tress of +her bright amber hair is worth a whole head of your sweetheart's black +tangle. Look at that!" + +He draws out such a tress, and unfolding, shakes it tauntingly before +the other's eyes. In the sun it gleams golden, with a radiance of red; +for it is amber colour, as he has styled it. + +"Look at this!" cries Cadwallader, also exhibiting a lock of hair. "You +thought nobody but yourself could show love-locks. This to yours, is as +costly silk alongside cheap cotton." + +For an instant each stands caressing his particular favours; then both +burst into laughter, as they return them to their places of deposit. + +Crozier, in turn taking the telescope, directs it on the house of Don +Gregorio; after a time saying: + +"About one thing you're right, Will: those heads are the same from which +we've had our tresses. Ay, and they're looking this way, through +glasses; perhaps, expecting us soon. Well; we'll be with them, please +God, before many hours; or it may be minutes. Then, you'll see how much +superior bright amber is to dull black--anywhere in the world, but +especially in the light of a Californian sun." + +"Nowhere, under either sun or moon. Give me the girl with the +crow-black hair!" + +"For me, her whose locks are red gold!" + +"Well; _cada uno a su gusto_, as my sweetheart has taught me to say in +her soft Andalusian. But now, Ned, talking seriously, do you think the +governor will give us leave to go ashore?" + +"He must; I know he will." + +"How do you know it?" + +"Bah! _ma bohil_; as our Irish second would say. You're the son of a +poor Welsh squire--good blood, I admit. But I chance to be heir to +twice ten thousand a year, with an uncle in the Admiralty. I have asked +leave for both of us. So, don't be uneasy about our getting it. +Captain Bracebridge is no snob; but he knows his own interests, and +won't refuse such fair request. See! There he is--coming this way. +Now for his answer--affirmative, you may rely upon it." + +"Gentlemen," says the captain, approaching, "you have my permission to +go ashore for the day. The gig will take you, landing wherever you +wish. You are to send the boat back, and give the coxswain orders +where, and when, he's to await you on return to the ship. Take my +advice, and abstain from drink--which might get you into difficulties. +As you know, just now San Francisco is full of all sorts of queer +characters--a very Pandemonium of a place. For the sake of the service, +and the honour of the uniform you wear, steer clear of scrapes--and +above all, give a wide berth to _women_." + +After thus delivering himself, the captain turns on his heel, and +retires--leaving mate and midshipman to their meditations. + +They do not meditate long; the desired leave has been granted, and the +order issued for the gig to be got ready. The boat is in the water, her +crew swarming over the side, and seating themselves upon the thwarts. + +The young officers only stay to give a finishing touch to their toilet, +preparatory to appearing before eyes whose critical glances both more +fear than they would the fire of a ship's broadside. + +Everything arranged, they drop down the man-ropes and seat themselves in +the stern-sheets; Crozier commanding the men to shove off. + +Soon the little gig is gliding over the tranquil waters of San Francisco +Bay; not in the direction of the landing-wharf, but for a projecting +point on the shore, to the south of, and some distance outside, the +suburbs of the town. For, the beacon towards which they steer is the +house of Don Gregorio Montijo. + + + +CHAPTER TEN. + +A PAIR OF SPANISH SENORITAS. + +Don Gregorio Montijo is a Spaniard, who, some ten years previous to the +time of which we write, found his way into the Republic of Mexico, +afterwards moving on to "Alta California." Settling by San Francisco +Bay, he became a _ganadero_, or stock-farmer--the industry in those days +chiefly followed by Californians. + +His grazing estate gives proof that he has prospered. Its territory +extends several miles along the water, and several leagues backward; its +boundary in that direction being the shore of the South Sea itself; +while a thousand head of horses, and ten times the number of horned +cattle, roam over its rich pastures. + +His house stands upon the summit of a hill that rises above the bay--a +sort of spur projected from higher ground behind, and trending at right +angles to the beach, where it declines into a low-lying sand-spit. +Across this runs the shore-road, southward from the city to San Jose, +cutting the ridge midway between the walls of the house and the water's +edge, at some three hundred yards distance from each. + +The dwelling, a massive quadrangular structure--in that Span-Moriscan +style of architecture imported into New Spain by the _Conquistadores_-- +is but a single storey in height, having a flat, terraced roof, and +inner court: this last approached through a grand gate entrance, +centrally set in the front facade, with a double-winged door wide enough +to admit the coach of Sir Charles Grandison. + +Around a Californian country-house there's rarely much in the way of +ornamental grounds--even though it be a _hacienda_ of the first-class. +And when the headquarters of a grazing estate, still less; its +inclosures consisting chiefly of "corrals" for the penning and branding +of cattle, these usually erected in the rear of the dwelling. To this +almost universal nakedness the grounds of Don Gregorio offer some +exception. He has added a stone fence, which, separating them from the +high road, is penetrated by a portalled entrance, with an avenue that +leads straight up to the house. This, strewn with snow-white +sea-shells, is flanked on each side by a row of _manzanita_ bushes--a +beautiful indigenous evergreen. Here and there a clump of California +bays, and some scattered peach-trees, betray an attempt, however slight, +at landscape gardening. + +Taking into account the grandeur of his house, and the broad acres +attached to it, one may safely say, that in the New World Don Gregorio +has done well. And, in truth, so has he--thriven to fulness. But he +came not empty from the Old, having brought with him sufficient cash to +purchase a large tract of land, as also sufficient of horses and horned +cattle to stock it. No needy adventurer he, but a gentleman by birth; +one of Biscay's bluest blood--hidalgos since the days of the Cid. + +In addition to his ready-money, he also brought with him a wife-- +Biscayan as himself--and a daughter, at the time turned eight years old. +His wife has been long ago buried; a tombstone in the cemetery of the +old Dolores Mission commemorating her many virtues. Since, he has had +an accession to his contracted family circle; the added member being a +grand-daughter, only a year younger than his daughter, but equally well +grown--both having reached the ripest age of girlhood. It is scarce +necessary to add, that the young ladies, thus standing in the +relationship of aunt and niece, are the two with whom Edward Crozier and +Willie Cadwallader have respectively fallen in love. + +And while mate and midshipman are on the way to pay them a promised +visit--for such it is--a word may be said about their personal +appearance. Though so closely allied, and nearly of an age, in other +respects the two differ so widely, that one unacquainted with the fact +would not suspect the slightest kinship between them. + +The aunt, Dona Carmen, is of pure Biscayan blood, both by her father's +and mother's side. From this she derives her blonde complexion, with +that colour of hair so admired by Mr Crozier; with the blue-grey eyes, +known as "Irish"--the Basques and Celts being a kindred race. Her +Biscayan origin has endowed her with a fine figure of full development, +withal in perfect feminine proportions; while her mother has transmitted +to her what, in an eminent degree, she herself possessed--beauty of face +and nobleness of feature. + +In the daughter neither has deteriorated, but perhaps improved. For the +benignant clime of California has such effect; the soft breezes of the +South Sea fanning as fair cheeks as were ever kissed by Tuscan, or +Levantine wind. + +A chapter might be devoted to the charms of Dona Carmen Montijo, and +still not do them justice. Enough to say, that they are beyond cavil. +There are men in San Francisco who would dare death for her sake, if +sure of her smile to speak approval of the deed; ay, one who would for +as much do murder! + +And in that same city is a man who would do the same for Inez Alvarez-- +though she has neither blonde complexion, nor blue eyes. Instead she is +a _morena_, or brunette, with eyes and hair of the darkest. But she is +also a beauty, of the type immortalised by many bards--Byron among the +number, when he wrote his rhapsody on the "Girl of Cadiz." + +Inez is herself a girl of Cadiz, of which city her father was a native. +The Conde Alvarez, an officer in the Spanish army, serving with his +regiment in Biscay, there saw a face that charmed him. It belonged to +the daughter of Don Gregorio Montijo--his eldest and first-born, some +eighteen years older than Carmen. The Andalusian count wooed the +Biscayan lady, won, and bore her away to his home. Both have gone to +their long home, leaving their only child inheritress of a handsome +estate. From her father, in whose veins ran Moorish blood, Inez +inherits jet-black eyes, with lashes nearly half-an-inch in length, and +above them brows shaped like the moon in the middle of her first +quarter. Though in figure more slender than her aunt, she is quite +Carmen's equal in height, and in this may some day excel; since she has +not yet attained her full stature. + +Such are the two damsels, who have danced with the young British +officers, and made sweet havoc in their hearts. Have the hearts of the +_senoritas_ received similar hurt in return? By listening to their +conversation we shall learn. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN. + +MUTUAL ADMISSIONS. + +The dwelling of Don Gregorio Montijo, as already stated, is +terrace-topped, that style of roof in Spanish countries termed _azotea_. +This, surrounded by a parapet breast-high--beset with plants and +flowering shrubs in boxes and pots, thus forming a sort of aerial +garden--is reached by a stone stair, the _escalera_, which leads up out +of the inner court, called _patio_. During certain hours of the day, +the azotea is a favourite resort, being a pleasant place of dalliance, +as also the finest for observation--commanding, as in this case it does, +a view of the country at back, and the broad bay in front. To look upon +this last have the two "senoritas," on the same morning, ascended--soon +after breakfast, which in all parts of Spanish America is eaten at the +somewhat late hour of 11 a.m. + +That they do not intend staying here long, is evident from the character +of their dresses. Both are costumed and equipped for the saddle; having +hats of vicuna wool on their heads, riding-whips in their hands, and +spurs on their heels; while in the courtyard below stand four horses, +saddled and bridled, champing their bits, and impatiently pawing the +flagged pavement. + +Since all the saddles are such as are usually ridden by men, it may be +supposed only men are to be mounted, and that the ladies' horses have +not yet been brought out of the stable. This would naturally be the +conjecture of a stranger to Spanish California. But one _an fait_ to +its fashions would draw deductions differently. Looking at the spurred +heels upon the house-top, and the saddled horses below, he would +conclude that two of the steeds were intended to be ridden by the +ladies; in that style of equitation with which the famed Duchesse de +Berri was accustomed to astonish the Parisians. + +The other two horses, having larger and somewhat coarser saddles, are +evidently designed for gentlemen; so that the cavalcade will be +symmetrically composed--two and two of each sex. + +The gentlemen have not yet put in an appearance; but who they are may be +learnt from the dialogue passing between the two ladies. From their +elevated, position they can see the rapidly growing city of San +Francisco, and the shipping in its harbour--north-east, and a little to +their left. But there are several vessels riding at anchor out in front +of them; one a warship, towards which the eyes of both keep continuously +turning, as though they expected a boat soon to put off from her side. + +As yet none such has been seen; and, withdrawing her gaze from the +warship, Inez opens the conversation by a question-- + +"Is it really true that we're going back to Spain?" + +She has been in California only a short time, since the death of her +father and mother, which placed her under the guardianship of Don +Gregorio. But though here, lovers have been all the while sighing +around her, she longs to return to her dear Andalusia. Therefore has +she asked the question with more than a common interest. + +"Quite true;" says Carmen, giving the answer, "and I'm sorry it is so." + +"Why should you be sorry?" + +"There are many reasons." + +"Give one." + +"I could give twenty." + +"One will be sufficient--if good." + +"They're all good." + +"Let me hear them, then." + +"First of all, I like California--I love it. Its fine climate, and +bright blue sides." + +"Not a bit brighter, or bluer, than those of Spain." + +"Ten times brighter, and ten times bluer. The skies of the Old-World +are to those of the New as lead to _lapis lazuli_. In that respect, +neither Spain nor Italy can compare with California. Its seas, too, are +superior. Even the boasted Bay of Naples would be but a poor pond +alongside that noble sheet of water, far-stretching before our eyes. +Look at it!" + +"Looking at it through _your_ eyes, I might think so; not through mine. +For my part, I see nothing in it to be so much admired." + +"But something _on_ it; for instance, that grand ship out yonder. Come, +now; confess the truth! Isn't that something to admire?" + +"But she don't belong to your bay," replies the Andalusian. + +"No matter. There is on it now, and in it--the ship I mean--somebody +who, if I mistake not, has very much interested somebody else--a certain +Andalusian lady, by name Inez Alvarez." + +"Your words will answer as well for a Biscayan lady--by name Carmen +Montijo." + +"Suppose I admit it, and say yes? Well; I will. There _is_ one in +yonder ship who has very much interested me. Nay, more; I admire--ay, +love him! You see I'm not ashamed to confess what the world affects to +consider a weakness. We of the Celtic race don't keep secrets as you of +the further South; half Moors, as you are. For all, _sobrina_, you +haven't kept yours; though you tried heard enough. I saw from the first +you were smitten with that young English officer, who has hair the exact +colour of a carrot!" + +"It isn't anything of the kind. His hair is of a much more becoming hue +than that of the other English officer, who's taken your fancy, _tia_." + +"Nothing to compare with it. Look at this. There's a curl; one of the +handsomest that ever grew on the head of man! Dark and glossy, as the +coat of the fur-seal. Beautiful! I could kiss it over, and over +again!" + +While speaking, she does so. + +"And look at this!" cries the other, also drawing forth a lock of hair, +and displaying it in the sunlight, "See how it shines--like tissue of +gold! Far prettier than that you've got, and better worth kissing." + +Saying which she imitates the example set her, by raising the tress to +her lips, and repeatedly kissing it. + +"So, so, my innocent!" exclaims Carmen, "you've been stealing too?" + +"As yourself!" + +"And, I suppose, you've given him a love-lock in exchange?" + +"Have you?" + +"I have. To you, Inez, I make no secret of it. Come, now! Be equally +candid with me. Have you done so?" + +"I've done the same as yourself." + +"And has your heart gone with the gift? Tell the truth, _sobrina_." + +"Ask your own, _tia_; and take its answer for mine." + +"Enough, then; we understand each other, and shall keep the secret to +ourselves. Now let's talk of other things; go back to what we began +with--about leaving California. You're glad we're going?" + +"Indeed, yes. And I wonder you're not the same. Dear old Spain, the +finest country on earth! And Cadiz the finest city." + +"Ah! about that we two differ. Give me California for a country, and +San Francisco for a home; though it's not much of a city yet. It will, +ere long; and I should like to stay in it. But that's not to be, and +there's an end of the matter. Father has determined on leaving. +Indeed, he has already sold out; so that this house and the lands around +it are no longer ours. As the lawyers have the deed of transfer, and +the purchase money has been paid, we're only here on sufferance, and +must soon yield possession. Then, we're to take ship for Panama, go +across the Isthmus and over the Atlantic Ocean; once more to renew the +Old-world life, with all its stupid ceremonies. How I shall miss the +free wild ways of California--its rural sports--with their quaint +originality and picturesqueness! I'm sure I shall die of _ennui_, soon +after reaching Spain. Your Cadiz will kill me." + +"But, Carmen; surely you can't be happy here--now that everything is so +changed? Why, we can scarce walk out in safety, or take a promenade +through the streets of the town, crowded with those rude fellows in +red-shirts, who've come to dig for gold--Anglo-Saxons, as they call +themselves." + +"What! You speaking against Anglo-Saxons! And with that tress +treasured in your bosom--so close to your heart!" + +"Oh! _he_ is different. He's not Saxon, but Welsh--and that's Celtic, +the same as you Biscayans. Besides, he isn't to be ranked with that +rabble, even though he were of the same race. The Senor Cadwallader is +a born hidalgo." + +"Admitting him to be, I think you do wrong to these red-shirted gentry, +in calling them a rabble. Rough as they may appear, they have gentle +hearts under their coarse homespun coats. Many of them are true +bred-and-born gentlemen; and, what's better, behave as such. I've never +received insult from them--not even disrespect--though I've been among +them scores of times. Father wrongs them too: for it is partly their +presence here that's causing him to quit California--as also many others +of our old families. Still, as we reside in the country, at a safe +distance from town, we might enjoy immunity from meeting _los barbaros_, +as our people are pleased contemptuously to style them. For my part, I +love dear old California, and will greatly regret leaving it. Only to +think; I shall never more behold the gallant _vaquero_, mounted on his +magnificent steed, careering across the plain, and launching his lazo +over the horns of a fierce wild bull, ready to gore him if he but miss +his aim. Ah! it's one of the finest sights in the world--so exciting in +this dull prosaic age. It recalls the heroic days and deeds of the +Great Conde, the Campeador, and Cid. Yes, Inez; only in this modern +transatlantic land--out here, on the shores of the South Sea--do there +still exist customs and manners to remind one of the old knight-errantry +and times of the troubadours." + +"What an enthusiast you are! But apropos of your knights-errant, yonder +are two of them, if I mistake not, making this way. Now, fancy yourself +on the donjon of an ancient Moorish castle, salute, and receive them +accordingly. Ha, ha, ha!" + +The clear ringing laugh of the Andalusian is not echoed by the Biscayan. +Instead, a shadow falls over her face, as her eyes become fixed upon +two mounted figures just distinguishable in the distance. + +"True types of your Californian _chivalry_!" adds Inez ironically. + +"True types of Californian _villainy_!" rejoins Carmen, in serious +earnest. + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE. + +A COUPLE OF CALIFORNIAN "CABALLEROS." + +The horsemen, so oddly commented upon, have just emerged from the +suburbs of San Francisco, taking the road which leads southward along +shore. + +Both are garbed in grand style, in the national costume of that country, +which, in point of picturesqueness is not exceeded by any other in the +world. + +They wear the wide trousers (_calzoneras_), along the outer seams lashed +with gold lace, and beset with filigree buttons; the snow-white drawers +(_calzoncillas_) here and there puffing out; below, _botas_ and spurs-- +the last with rowels several inches in diameter, that glitter like great +stars behind their heels. They have tight-fitting jackets of velveteen, +closed in front, and over the bosom elaborately embroidered; scarfs of +China crape round their waists, the ends dangling adown the left hip, +terminating in a fringe of gold cord; on their heads _sombreros_ with +broad brim, and band of bullion--the _toquilla_. In addition, each has +over his shoulders a _manga_--the most magnificent of outside garments, +with a drape graceful as a Roman _toga_. That of one is +scarlet-coloured, the other sky-blue. Nor are their horses less grandly +bedecked. Saddles of stamped leather, scintillating with silver studs-- +their cloths elaborately embroidered; bridles of plaited horse-hair, +jointed with tags and tassels; bits of the Mamaluke pattern, with +check-pieces and curbs powerful enough to break the jaw at a jerk. + +The steeds thus splendidly caparisoned are worthy of it. Though small, +they are of perfect shape--pure blood of Arabian sires, transmitted +through dams of Andalusia. They are descended from the stock +transported to the New World by the _Conquistadores_; and the progenitor +of one or other may have carried Alvarado or Sandoval--perhaps Cortez +himself. + +The riders are both men of swarthy complexion, with traits that tell of +the Latinic race. Their features are Spanish; in one a little more +pronounced than the other. He who wears the sky-coloured cloak has all +the appearance of being Mexican born. The blood in his veins giving the +brown tinge to his skin, is not Moorish, but more likely from the +aborigines of California. For all this, he is not a true _mestizo_; +only one among whose remote ancestry an Indian woman may have been +numbered; since the family-tree of many a proud Californian has sprung +from such root. He is of medium size, with figure squat and somewhat +square, and sits his horse as though he were part of the animal. If +seen afoot his legs would appear bowed, almost bandied, showing that he +has spent the greater part of his life in the saddle. His face is flat, +its outline rounded, the nose compressed, nostrils agape, and lips thick +enough to suggest the idea of an African origin. But his hair +contradicts this--being straight as needles, and black as the skin of a +Colobus monkey. More like he has it from the Malays, through the +Californian Indian--some tribes of which are undoubtedly of Malayan +descent. + +Whatever the mixture in his blood, the man is himself a native +Californian, born by the shores of San Francisco Bay, on a _ganaderia_, +or grazing estate. He is some twenty-six or seven years of age, his +name Faustino Calderon--"Don" by ancestral right, and ownership of the +aforesaid _ganaderia_. + +He in the scarlet _manga_, though but a few years older, is altogether +different in appearance, as otherwise; personally handsomer, and +intellectually superior. His features better formed, are more purely +Spanish; their outline oval and regular the jaws broad and balanced; the +chin prominent; the nose high, without being hooked or beaked; the brow +classically cut, and surmounted by a thick shock of hair, coal-black in +colour, and waved rather than curling. Heavy moustaches on the upper +lip, with an imperial on the under one--the last extending below the +point of the chin--all the rest of his face, throat, and cheeks, clean +shaven. Such are the facial characteristics of Don Francisco de Lara, +who is a much larger, and to all appearance stronger, man than his +travelling companion. + +Calderon, as said, is a gentleman by birth, and a _ganadero_, or +stock-farmer, by occupation. He inherits a considerable tract of +pasture-land, left him by his father--some time deceased--along with the +horses and horned cattle that browse upon it. An only son, he is now +owner of all. But his ownership is not likely to continue. He is fast +relinquishing it, by the pursuit of evil courses--among them three of a +special kind: wine, women, and play--which promise to make him bankrupt +in purse, as they already have in character. For around San Francisco, +as in it, he is known as _roue_ and reveller, a debauchee in every +speciality of debauch, and a silly fellow to boot. Naturally of weak +intellect, and dissipation has made it weaker. + +Of as much moral darkness, though different in kind, is the character of +Don Francisco de Lara--"Frank Lara," as he is familiarly known in the +streets and saloons. Though Spanish in features, and speaking the +language, he can also talk English with perfect fluency--French too, +when called upon, with a little Portuguese and Italian. For, in truth, +he is not a Spaniard, but only so by descent, being a Creole of New +Orleans--that cosmopolitan city _par excellence_--hence his philological +acquirements. + +Frank Lara is one of those children of chance, wanderers who come into +the world nobody knows how, when, or whence; only, that they are in it; +and while there, performing a part in accordance with their mysterious +origin--living in luxury, and finding the means for it, by ways that +baffle conjecture. + +He is full thirty years of age; the last ten of which he has spent on +the shores of San Francisco Bay. Landing there from an American +whaling-vessel, and in sailor costume, he cast off his tarry "togs," and +took to land-life in California. Its easy idleness, as its lawlessness, +exactly suited his natural inclinations. + +Similar inclinings and pursuits, at an early period brought him and +Calderon in contact; and certain relations have been established between +them; in other words, they have become united in a business +partnership--a _bank_; of that species known as "_monte_" bank. + +Since the discovery of the gold _placers_, the streets of San Francisco +have been crowded with men mad after the precious metal; among them some +who do not desire to undergo the toil of sifting it out of sand, or +washing it from river-mud. They prefer the easier, and cleaner, method +of gathering it across the green baize of a gambling table. + +To accommodate such gentry, Francisco de Lara has established a _monte_ +bank, Faustino Calderon being his backer. But though the latter is the +moneyed man, and has supplied most of the cash to start with, he does +not show in the transaction. He is only as the sleeping partner; De +Lara, with less reputation at stake, being the active and ostensible +one. + +As yet Faustino Calderon has not come within the category of the +professional gamester, and respectability does not repel him. His +dissipated habits are far from exceptional, and his father's good name +still continues to throw its _aegis_ over him. Under it he is eligible +to Californian society of the most select kind, and has the _entree_ of +its best circles. + +And so also Don Francisco de Lara--in a different way. Wealth has +secured him this; for although anything but rich, he has the repute of +being so, and bears evidence of it about him. He is always stylishly +and fashionably attired; his shirt of the finest linen, with diamond +studs sparkling in its front. Free in dispensing gratuities, he gives +to the poor and the priests--finding this last kind of largess a good +speculation. For, in California, as in other Catholic countries, the +dispenser of "Peter's Pence" is sure of being held in high estimation. +Frank Lara so dispenses with a liberal hand; and is therefore styled +"Don" Francisco--saluted as such by the sandalled monks and +shovel-hatted priests who come in contact with him. + +In addition to all, he is good-looking and of graceful deportment, +without being at all a dandy. On the contrary he carries himself with +earnest air, calm and cool, while in his eyes may be read the +expression--_noli me tangere_. A native of New Orleans, where duels +occur almost daily, he is up in the _art d'escrime_; and since his +arrival in California has twice called out his man--on the second +occasion killing him. + +_Escroc_ as the French might call him; "blackleg" in the English +vocabulary; "sport" in American phrase, Frank Lara is a man with whom no +one who knows him likes to take liberties. + +Such are the two men whom Inez Alvarez has facetiously styled types of +Californian "chivalry," while Carmen Montijo has more correctly +described them as typical of its "villainy." And yet to make call on +this very Inez, and this same Carmen, the gentlemen so differently +designated are now on their way! + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN. + +CONFESSION OF FEAR. + +After having delivered their speeches, so nearly alike in sound, yet so +opposed in sense, the two girls stand for a short time silent, their +faces turned toward the approaching horsemen. These are still more than +a mile off, and to the ordinary eye only distinguishable as mounted men +wearing cloaks--one of scarlet colour, the other sky-blue. But despite +the distance, the others easily identify them, simultaneously, and in +tone contemptuous, pronouncing their names. + +"Yes," says Carmen, now speaking in full assurance, with a lorgnette +raised to her eyes--hitherto bent upon the British warship, "in all +California there are no truer types of what I've called them. Do you +think they're coming on to the house, Inez?" + +"'Tis very likely; I should say, almost certain." + +"What can be bringing them?" mechanically queries Carmen, with an air of +increased vexation. + +"Their horses, aunt," rejoins the niece, jestingly. + +"Don't jest, _nina_! It's too serious." + +"What's too serious?" + +"Why, these fellows coming hither. I wonder what they can be wanting?" + +"You needn't wonder at that," says Inez, still speaking jocularly. "I +can tell you what one of them wants, that one Don Francisco de Lara. He +is desirous to have a look at the mistress of this mansion." + +"And Don Faustino Calderon is no doubt equally desirous to look at her +niece," retorts the other in like bantering tone. + +"He's quite welcome. He may look till he strains his ugly eyes out. It +won't make any impression on me." + +"I'm sorry I can't say the same for Don Francisco. On me, his looks +_do_ make impression--far from pleasant." + +"It wasn't always so, _tia_?" + +"No, I admit. I only wish it had been." + +"But why?" + +"Because, now I shouldn't need to be afraid of him." + +"Afraid of him! Surely you are not that?" + +"Well, no--not exactly afraid--still--" + +She speaks hesitatingly, and in disjointed phrases, her head drooping +down. Then a quick change comes over her countenance, and, bending +closer to the other, she asks, "Can I trust you with a confidence, +Inez?" + +"Why need you ask that? You've already trusted me with one--in telling +me you love Don Eduardo." + +"Now I give you another--by telling you I once loved Don Francisco." + +"Indeed!" + +"No, no!" rejoins Carmen quickly, and as half-repenting the avowal. +"Not _loved_ him--that's not true, I only _came near it_." + +"And now?" + +"I hate him!" + +"Why, may I ask? What has changed you?" + +"That's easily answered. When I first met him I was younger than now; a +mere girl, full of girlish fancies--romantic, as called. I thought him +handsome; and in a sense so he is. In person, you'll admit, he's all +man may, or need, be--a sort of Apollo, or Hyperion. But in mind--ah, +Inez, that man is a very Satyr--in heart and soul a Mephistopheles." + +"But why should you be afraid of him?" + +Carmen does not reply promptly. Clearly, she has not yet bestowed the +whole of her confidence. There is something withheld. + +Inez, whose sympathies are now enlisted, presses for _the_ explanation. + +"Carmen--dear Carmen! tell me what it is. Have you ever given Don +Francisco a claim to call you his _novia_?" + +"Never! Neither that, nor anything of the kind. He has no claim, and I +no compromise. The only thing I've reason to regret is, having listened +to his flattering speeches without resenting them." + +"Pst! What does that signify? Why, Don Faustino has made flattering +speeches to me--scores of them--called me all sorts of endearing names-- +does so whenever we two are together alone. I only laugh at him." + +"Ah! Faustino Calderon is not Francisco de Lara. They are men of very +different dispositions. In the behaviour of your admirer there's only a +little of the ludicrous; in that of mine, there may be a great deal of +danger. But let us cease discussing them. There's no time for that +now. The question is, are they coming to call on us?" + +"I think there can be no question about it. Very likely they've heard +that we're soon going away, and are about to honour us with a farewell +visit." + +"Supposing they should stay till our English friends arrive!" + +"Let them--who cares? I don't." + +"But I do. If papa were at home, I mightn't so much mind it. But, just +now, I've no desire to see Senor De Lara alone--still less while being +visited by Eduardo. They're both _demonios_, though in a different +way." + +"Look yonder!" exclaims Inez, pointing towards the British frigate, +where a boat is in the water under her beam. The sun, reflected from +dripping oar-blades, tells them to be in motion. + +While the girls continue gazing, the boat is seen to separate from the +ship's side, and put shoreward, straight towards the sand-pit which +projects in front of Don Gregorio's dwelling. The rowers are all +dressed alike, the measured stroke of their oars betokening that the +boat belongs to the man-o'-war. But the young ladies do not conjecture +about this; nor have they any doubt as to the identity of two of the +figures seated in the stern-sheets. Those uniforms of dark blue, with +the gold buttons, and yellow cap-bands, are so well known as to be +recognisable at any distance to which love's glances could possibly +penetrate. They are the guests expected, for whom the spare horses +stand saddled in the _patio_. For Don Gregorio, by no means displeased +with certain delicate attentions which the young British officers have +been paying to the female members of his family, has invited them to +visit him--ride out along with the ladies, and, on return, stay to +dinner. He knows that a treat of this kind will be pleasing to those he +has asked; and, before leaving home, had given orders for the steeds to +be saddled. + +It is not the first time Crozier and Cadwallader have been to the +Spaniard's house, nor the first to stretch their limbs under his +dining-table, nor the first for them to have held pleasant converse with +the _senoritas_, and strolled along solitary paths, opportune for the +exchange of those love-locks. But it may be the last--at least during +their sojourn in California. For in truth is it to be a farewell visit. + +But with this understanding, another has been entered into. The +acquaintance commenced in California is to be renewed at Cadiz, when the +_Crusader_ goes thither, which she is ere long expected to do. But for +such anticipation Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez would not be so +high-hearted at the prospect of a leave-taking so near. Less painful on +this account, it might have been even pleasant, but for what they see on +the opposite side--the horsemen approaching from the town. An encounter +between the two pairs gives promise to mar the happy intercourse of the +hour. + +"They'll meet--they must!" says Carmen, apprehensively. + +"Let them!" rejoins Inez, in a tone of nonchalance. "What if they do?" + +"What! They may quarrel. I'm almost sure they will." + +"No fear for that; and, if they should, where's the danger? You, such a +believer in the romantic--stickler for old knight-errantry--instead of +regretting it, should be glad! Look there! Lovers coming from all +sides--suitors by land and suitors by sea! Knights terrestrial, knights +aquatic. No lady of the troubadour times ever had the like; none ever +honoured by such a rivalry! Come, Carmen, be proud! Stand firm on your +castle-keep! Show yourself worthy to receive this double adoration!" + +"Inez, you don't know the danger." + +"There is none. If they should come into collision, and have a fight, +let them. I've no fear for mine. If Willie Cadwallader isn't a match +for Faustino Calderon, then he's not match, or mate, for me--never shall +be." + +"_Sobrina_! you shock me. I had no idea you were such a _demonia_. The +Moorish blood, I suppose. Your words make me almost as wicked as +yourself. It isn't for that I'm afraid. I've as much confidence in my +lover as you in yours. No fear that Senor Crozier will cower before +Francisco de Lara. If he do, I shall take back my heart a second time, +and carry it unscathed to Cadiz!" + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN. + +A SWEET PAIR OF SUITORS. + +While the young ladies upon the house-top are discussing the characters +of De Lara and Calderon, these worthies, in return, are conversing of +them, and in a strain which bodes little good to Inez, with much evil to +Carmen. That the visit designed for them is of no ordinary nature, but +for an all important purpose, can be gleaned from the speech passing +between the two horsemen as they ride along the road. + +De Lara commences it by remarking:-- + +"Well, friend Faustino, from something you said before setting out, I +take it you're going to Don Gregorio's on an errand very similar to my +own? Come, _camarado_! declare it!" + +"Declare yours!" + +"Certainly. I shall make no secret of it to you; nor need I. Why +should there be any between us? We've now known one another long +enough, and intimately enough, to exchange confidences of the closest +kind. To-day mine is--that I mean proposing to Don Gregorio's +daughter--offering her my hand in marriage." + +"And I," returns Calderon, "intend doing the same to his +grand-daughter." + +"In that case, we're both in the same boat; and, as there's no rivalry +between us, we can pull pleasantly together. I've no objection to being +your uncle; even admitting you to a share in the old Spaniard's +property--proportioned to your claims of kinship." + +"I don't want a dollar of the Don's money; only his grand-daughter. I'm +deeply in love with her." + +"And I," continues De Lara, "am just as deeply in love with his +daughter--it may be deeper." + +"You couldn't. I'm half-mad about Inez Alvarez. I could kill her--if +she refuse me." + +"I _shall_ kill Carmen Montijo--if she refuse _me_." The two men are +talking seriously, or seem so. Their voices, the tone, the flashing of +their eyes, the expression upon their faces, with their excited +gesticulation--all show them to be in earnest. + +At the last outburst of passionate speech they turn in their saddles, +and look each other in the face. De Lara continues the dialogue: + +"Now, tell me, Faustino; what hope have you of success?" + +"For that, fair enough. You remember the last _fandango_ held at Don +Gregorio's--on the day of the cattle-branding!" + +"Certainly I do. I've good reason to remember it. But go on." + +"Well, that night," proceeds Calderon, "I danced twice with Inez, and +made many sweet speeches to her. Once I went farther, and squeezed her +pretty little hand. She wasn't angry, or at all events didn't say or +show it. Surely, after such encouragement, I may ask that hand in +marriage--with fair presumption of not being refused. What's your +opinion?" + +"Your chances seem good. But what about himself. He'll have something +to say in the matter." + +"Too much, I fear; and that's just what I do fear. So long as his bit +of grazing-land was worth only some thirty thousand dollars, he was +amiable enough. Now that by this gold discovery it's got to be good +value for eight or ten times the amount, he's become a different man, +and in all likelihood will go dead against me." + +"Like enough; it's the way of the world. And therefore, on that +account, you needn't have a special spite against the Senor Montijo. +You're sure no one else stands between you and your sweetheart? Or is +there something in the shape of a rival?" + +"Of course there is--a score of them, as you ought to know; same as with +yourself, De Lara. Suitors have been coming and going with both, I +suppose, ever since either was old enough to receive them. The last +I've heard of paying attentions to Inez is a young naval officer--a +midshipman on board a British man-of-war now lying in the harbour. +Indeed there are two of them spoken of; one said to be _your_ rival, as +the other is mine. Shall I tell you what's been for some time the talk +of the town? You may as well know it, if you don't already." + +"What?" asks the Creole, excitedly. + +"Why, that the one represented as your competitor has cut out all +Carmen's other admirers--yourself among the rest." + +Bitter words to the ear of Francisco de Lara, bringing the red colour to +his cheeks, as if they had been smitten by a switch. With eyes +flashing, and full of jealous fire, he exclaims: + +"If that be so, I'll do as I've said--" + +"Do what?" + +"_Kill Carmen Montijo_! I swear it. I'm in earnest, Calderon, and mean +it. If it be as you've heard, I'll surely kill her. I've the right to +her life--by her giving me the right to her love." + +"But did she do that? Has she ever confessed to loving you?" + +"Not in words, I admit. But there are other signs of assent strong as +speech, or the hand-squeezings you speak of. Carmen Montijo may be +cunning. Some call her a coquette. All I know is, that she has led me +to believe she loved me; and if she's been playing a false game, she +shall rue it, one way or the other. This day I'm determined to +ascertain the truth, by offering her my hand, as I've said, and asking +hers. If she refuse it, then I'll know how things stand, and take steps +for squaring accounts between us. She shall find that Frank Lara is not +the sort of man to let one of womankind either laugh at, or play tricks +with him." + +"I admire your spirit, _amigo_. I catch courage from it, and will +imitate your action. If it turn out that Inez has been trifling with +me, I'll--well, we must first find what answer there is for us; which we +shall, I suppose, soon after ascending yonder hill. One of us may be +accepted, the other rejected. In that case, one will be happy, the +other wretched. Or both may be accepted, and then we'll both be +blessed. Taking things at their worst, and that we both get refused-- +what then? Despair, and a speedy end, I suppose?" + +"The last, if you like, but not the first. When despair comes to Frank +Lara, death will come along with it, of soon after. But we waste time +talking; let us forward and learn our fate!" + +With stroke of spur, urging their horses into a gallop, the two hasten +on; in the countenances of both a cast showing them half-hopeful, +half-doubting--such as may be seen when men are about to make some +desperate attempt, with uncertainty as to the result. On Calderon's, +notwithstanding his assumed levity, the expression is almost despairing; +on that of De Lara it is more defiant and demon-like. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN. + +A RUDE RENCONTRE. + +Having steeled themselves to the reception of their rival suitors, with +brave words one supporting the other, the two girls remain upon the +_azotea_. Meanwhile, the man-o'-war's boat has been drawing in towards +the beach, heading for a little embayment, formed by the shore-line and +the sand-bar already spoken of. + +The horsemen advancing from the town-side do not see it; nor can the +crew of the boat perceive them. The land-ridge is between the two +parties, its crest concealing them from one another. + +They are approaching it at a like rate of speed; for although the horses +appear to be in a gallop, it is only a fancy gait fashionable among +Spanish-Americans, its purpose to exhibit equestrian skill. For the two +horsemen looking up the hill, have seen heads on the house-top, and know +that ladies' eyes are upon them. + +Surreptitiously goaded by the spur, their steeds plunge and curvet, +apparently progressing at a rapid pace, but in reality gaining little +ground. + +After a time both parties disappear from the eyes of those on the +_azotea_. They have gone under the brow of the hill, which, overhanging +for a short distance, shuts out a view of the road, as also the +sea-shore, along the sand-spit. + +Unseen from above, the man-o'-war's boat beaches, and the two officers +spring out upon the strand. One of them turning, says something to the +coxswain, who has remained in the stern-sheets, with the tiller-ropes in +hand. It is an order, with instructions about where and when he is to +wait for them on return to the ship. + +"At the new wharf in the harbour," Crozier is heard to say; for it is he +who commands. + +His order given, the boat shoves off, and is rowed back towards the +ship; while the officers commence climbing the slope, to get upon the +shore-road. + +At the same time the horsemen are ascending from the opposite side. + +Soon both parties are again within view of those on the house-top; +though neither as yet sees the other, or has any suspicion of such +mutual proximity. The crest of the ridge is still between, but in a few +seconds more they will sight one another. + +The men afoot are advancing at about the same rate of speed as those on +horseback. The latter have ceased showing off, as if satisfied with the +impression they must have made, and are now approaching in tranquil +gait, but with an air of subdued triumph--the mock modesty of the +_matador_, who, with blood-stained sword, bends meekly before the box +where beauty sits smiling approbation. + +The two pedestrians climb the hill less ceremoniously. Glad to stretch +their limbs upon land--"shake the knots out of their knees," as +Cadwallader gleefully remarks--they eagerly scale the steep. Not silent +either, but laughing and shouting like a couple of schoolboys abroad for +an afternoon's holiday. + +Suddenly coming within view of the house, they bring their boisterous +humour under restraint at sight of two heads above the parapet. For +they know to whom these belong, and note that the faces are turned +towards them. + +At the same instant the horsemen also see the heads, and observe that +the faces are _not_ turned towards _them_. On the contrary, _from_ +them, the ladies looking in another direction. + +Some chagrin in this. After all their grand caracolling, and feats of +equitation, which must have been witnessed by the fair spectators. + +At what are these now gazing? Is it a ship sailing up the bay, or +something else on the water? No matter what, and whether on land, or +water; enough for the conceited fellows to think they are being +slightingly received. + +Disconcerted, they seek an explanation, mutually questioning one +another. But before either can make answer in speech, they have it +under their eyes--in the shape of a brace of British naval officers. + +Like themselves, the latter have just reached the summit of the ridge, +and are moving on towards Don Gregorio's gate. It is midway between; +and keeping on at the same rate of speed, the two pairs will meet +directly in front of it. + +Before that moment, neither has ever set eyes on the other. +Notwithstanding, there is an expression on the faces of all four, which +tells of mutual recognition, and of no friendly nature. + +Calderon whispers to De Lara: + +"The English officers!" + +Cadwallader says, _sotto-voce_ to Crozier: + +"The fellows we've heard about--our rivals, Ned, like ourselves, I +suppose, going to visit the girls." + +De Lara makes no response to Calderon. Neither does Crozier to +Cadwallader. There is not time. They are now close up to the gate, and +there is only its breadth between them. + +They have arrived there at the same instant of time, and simultaneously +make stop. Face to face, silence on both sides, neither word nor salute +offered in exchange. But looks are quite as expressive--glances that +speak the language of jealous rivalry--of rage with difficulty +suppressed. + +It is a question of precedence, as to who shall first pass into the +entrance. Their hesitation was not from any courtesy, but the reverse. +The men on horseback look down on those afoot contemptuously, +scornfully. Threateningly, too; as though they had thoughts of riding +over, and trampling them under the hoofs of their horses. No doubt they +would like to do it, and might make trial, were the young officers +unarmed. But they are not. Crozier carries a pistol--Cadwallader his +midshipman's dirk, both weapons conspicuous outside their uniforms. + +For a period of several seconds' duration, the rivals stand _vis-a-vis_, +neither venturing to advance. Around them is a nimbus of angry +electricity, that needs but a spark to kindle it into furious flame. A +single word will do it. This word spoken, and two of the four may never +enter Don Gregorio's gate--at least not alive. + +It is not spoken. The only thing said is by Crozier to Cadwallader--not +in a whisper, but aloud, and without regard to what effect it may have +on the enemy. + +"Come along, Will! We've something better to do than stand +shilly-shallying here. Heave after me, shipmate!" + +Crozier's speech cut the Gordian knot; and the officers, gliding through +the gateway, advance along the avenue. + +With faces now turned towards the house, they see the ladies still upon +the _azotea_. + +Soon as near enough for Carmen to observe it, Crozier draws out the +treasured tress, and fastens it in his cap, behind the gold band. It +falls over his shoulder like a cataract of liquid amber. + +Cadwallader does likewise; and from his cap also streams a tress, black +as the plumes of a raven. + +The two upon the house-top appear pleased by this display. They show +their approval by imitating it. Each raises hand to her riding-hat; and +when these are withdrawn, a curl of hair is seen set behind their +_toquillas_--one chestnut-brown, the other of yellowish hue. + +Scarce is this love-telegraphy exchanged, when the two Californians come +riding up the avenue, at full speed. Though lingering at the gate, and +still far-off, De Lara had observed the affair of the tresses, clearly +comprehending the symbolism of the act. Exasperated beyond bounds, he +can no longer control himself, and cares not what may come. + +At his instigation, Calderon spurs on by his side, the two tearing +furiously along. Their purpose is evident: to force the pedestrians +from the path, and so humble them in the eyes of their sweethearts. + +On his side, Crozier remains cool, admonishing Cadwallader to do the +same. They feel the power of possession: assured by those smiles, that +the citadel is theirs. It is for the outsiders to make the assault. + +"Give a clear gangway, Will!" counsels Crozier; "and let them pass. We +can talk to the gentlemen afterwards." + +Both step back among the _manzanita_ bushes, and the _ginetes_ go +galloping past; De Lara on Crozier's side scowling down, as if he would +annihilate the English officer with a look. The scowl is returned with +interest, the officer still reserves speech. + +On the other edge of the avenue the action is a little different. The +midshipman, full of youthful freak, determines on having his "lark." He +sees the chance, and cannot restrain himself. As Calderon sweeps past, +he draws his dirk, and pricks the Californian's horse in the hip. The +animal, maddened by the pain, springs upward, and then shoots off at +increased speed, still further heightened by the fierce exclamations of +his rider, and the mocking laughter of the mid. + +Under the walls the two horsemen come to a halt, neither having made +much by their bit of rude bravadoism. And they know they will have a +reckoning to settle for it--at least De Lara does. For on the brow of +Crozier, coming up, he can read a determination to call him to account. +He is not flurried about this. On the contrary, he has courted it, +knowing himself a skilled swordsman, and dead shot. Remembering that he +has already killed his man, he can await with equanimity the challenge +he has provoked. It is not fear has brought the pallor to his cheeks, +and set the dark seal upon his brow. Both spring from a different +passion: observable in his eyes as he turns them towards the house-top. +For the ladies are still there, looking down. + +Saluting, he says: + +"Dona Carmen, can I have the honour of an interview?" + +She thus interrogated does not make immediate answer. Spectator of all +that has passed, she observes the hostile attitude between the two sets +of visitors. To receive both at the same time will be more than +embarrassing. With their angry passions roused to such a pitch, it must +end in a personal encounter. + +Her duty is clear. She is mistress of the house, representing her +father, who is absent. The English officers are there by invitation. +At thought of this she no longer hesitates. + +"Not now, Don Francisco de Lara," she says, replying to his question; +"not to-day. I must beg of you to excuse me." + +"Indeed!" rejoins he sneeringly. "Will it be deemed discourteous in me +to ask why I am denied?" + +It is discourteous; and so Dona Carmen deems it. Though she does not +tell him as much in words, he can take it from her rejoinder. + +"You are quite welcome to know the reason. We have an engagement!" + +"Oh! an engagement!" + +"Yes, sir, an engagement," she repeats, in a tone telling of irritation. +"Those gentlemen you see are our guests. My father has invited them to +spend the day with us." + +"Ah! your father has invited them! How very good of Don Gregorio +Montijo, extending his hospitality to _gringos_! And Dona Carmen has +added her kind compliments with earnest entreaties for them to come, no +doubt?" + +"Sir!" says Carmen, no longer able to conceal her indignation, "your +speech is impertinent--insulting. I shall listen to it no longer." + +Saying which, she steps back, disappearing behind the parapet--where +Inez has already concealed herself, at the close of a similar short, but +stormy, dialogue with Calderon. + +De Lara, a lurid look in his eyes, sits in his saddle as if in a stupor. +He is roused from it by a voice, Crozier's, saying: + +"You appear anxious to make apology to the lady? You can make it to +_me_." + +"_Caraji_!" exclaims the gambler, starting, and glaring angrily at the +speaker. "Who are you?" + +"One who demands an apology for your very indecorous behaviour." + +"You'll not get it." + +"Satisfaction, then." + +"That to your heart's content." + +"I shall have it so. Your card, sir?" + +"There; take it. Yours?" + +The bits of cardboard are exchanged; after which De Lara, casting +another glance up to the _azotea_--where he sees nothing but blank +wall--turns his horse's head; then spitefully plying the spur, gallops +back down the avenue--his comrade close following. + +Calderon has not deemed it incumbent upon him to demand a card from +Cadwallader. Nor has the latter thought it necessary to take one from +him; the mid is quite contented with that playful prod with his dirk. + +The young officers enter the house, in cheerful confidence. They have +lost nothing by the encounter, and those inside will still smilingly +receive them--as indeed they do. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN. + +A SHIP WITHOUT SAILORS. + +Among the vessels lying in the harbour of San Francisco is one athwart +whose stern is lettered the name _El Condor_. + +She is a ship of small dimensions--some five or six hundred tons-- +devoted to peaceful commerce, as can be told by certain peculiarities of +rig and structure, understood by the initiated in nautical affairs. + +The name will suggest a South American nationality--Ecuadorian, +Peruvian, Bolivian, or Chilian--since the bird after which she has been +baptised is found in all these States. Columbia and the Argentine +Confederation can also claim it. + +But there is no need to guess at the particular country to which the +craft in question belongs. The flag suspended over her taffrail +declares it, by a symbolism quite intelligible to those who take an +interest in national insignia. + +It is a tricolour--the orthodox red, white, and blue--not, as with the +French, disposed vertically, but in two horizontal bands; the lower one +crimson red, the upper half-white, half-blue--the last contiguous to the +staff, with a single five-pointed star set centrally in its field. This +disposition of colours proclaims the ship that carries them to be +Chilian. + +She is not the only Chilian craft in the harbour of San Francisco. +Several others are there showing the same colours; brigs, barques, +schooners, and ships. For the spirited little South American Republic +is as prosperous as enterprising, and its flag waves far and wide over +the Pacific. With its population of skilled miners, it had been among +the first of foreign states in sending a large representative force to +"cradle" the gold _placers_ of California, and not only are its ships +lying in the bay, but its _guasos_ and _gambusinos_ in goodly number +tread the streets of the town; while many of the dark-eyed damsels, who +from piazzas and balconies salute the passer-by with seductive smiles, +are those charming little Chilenas that make havoc with the heart of +almost every Jack-tar who visits Valparaiso. + +On the ship _El Condor_ we meet not much that can be strictly called +Chilian; little besides the vessel herself and the captain commanding +her. Not commanding her sailors: since there are none upon her hailing +from Chili or elsewhere. Those who brought the _Condor_ into San +Francisco Bay have abandoned her--gone off to the gold-diggings! +Arriving in the heat of the _placer-fever_, they preferred seeking +fortune with pick, shovel, and pan, to handling tarry ropes at ten +dollars a month. Almost on the instant of the ship's dropping anchor +they deserted to a man, leaving her skipper to himself, or with only his +cook for a companion. + +Neither is the latter Chilian, but African--a native of Zanzibar. No +more the two great monkeys, observed gambolling about the deck; for the +climate of Chili, lying outside the equatorial belt, is too cold for +indigenous _quadrumana_. + +Not much appearing upon the _Condor_ would proclaim her a South American +ship; and nothing in her cargo, for a cargo she carries. She has just +arrived from a trading voyage to the South Sea Isles, extending to the +Indian Archipelago, whence her lading--a varied assortment, consisting +of tortoise-shell, spices, mother-of-pearl, Manilla cigars, and such +other commodities as may be collected among the Oriental islands. Hence +also the _myas_ monkeys--better known as orang-outangs--seen playing +about her deck. These she has brought from Borneo. + +Only a small portion of her freight had been consigned to San Francisco; +this long ago landed. The rest remains in her hold for further +transport to Valparaiso. + +How soon she may arrive there, or take departure from her present +anchorage, is a question that even her skipper cannot answer. If asked, +he would most probably reply, "_Quien sabe_?" and, further pressed, +might point to her deserted decks, offering that as an explanation of +his inability to satisfy the inquirer. + +Her captain--Antonio Lantanas by name--is a sailor of the +Spanish-American type; and being this, he takes crosses and +disappointments coolly. Even the desertion of his crew seems scarcely +to have ruffled him; he bears it with a patient resignation, that would +be quite incomprehensible to either English or Yankee skipper. With a +broad-brimmed _jipi-japa_ hat shading his swarth features from the sun, +he lounges all day long upon the quarterdeck, his elbows usually rested +upon the capstan-head; his sole occupation rolling and smoking paper +cigarritos, one of which is usually either in his fingers, or between +his lips. If he at any time varies this, it is to eat his meals, or to +take a turn at play with his pet monkeys. + +These creatures are male and female, both full of fun in their uncouth +fashion; and Captain Lantanas takes it out of them by occasionally +touching their snouts with the lit end of his cigarette, laughing to see +them scamper off, scared at the (to them) singular, and somewhat +painful, effect of fire. + +His meals are served regularly three times a day, and his cook--the +aforesaid negro, black as the tar upon the rattlin ropes--after having +served them, returns to an idleness equalling his own. He too, has his +diversion with the orangs, approaching much nearer to them in physical +appearance, and for this reason, perhaps, a more congenial playmate. + +Once a day the skipper steps into his gig, and rows himself ashore. But +not to search for sailors. He knows that would be an idle errand. +True, there are plenty of them in San Francisco; scores parading its +streets, and other scores seated, or standing, within its taverns and +restaurants. But they are all on the spree--all rollicking, and if not +rich, hoping soon to be. Not a man of them could be coaxed to take +service on board an outbound ship for wages less than would make the +voyage little profitable to her owner. + +As the Chilian skipper is not only master, but proprietor of his own +craft, he has no intention to stir under the circumstances; but is +contented to wait till times change, and tars become inclined again to +go to sea. When this may be, and the _Condor_ shall spread her canvas +wings for a further flight to Valparaiso, he has not the remotest idea. +When he enters the town, it is to meet other skippers with ships +crewless as his own, and exchange condolences on their common +destitution. + +On a certain day--that on which we are introduced to him--he has not +sculled himself ashore, but abides upon his vessel, awaiting the arrival +of one who has sent a message forewarning him of an intended visit. + +Although San Francisco is fast becoming transformed into an American +city, and already has its half-dozen newspapers, there is among these a +small sheet printed in Spanish, by name _El Diario_. In it Captain +Lantanas has advertised his vessel, for freight or passage, bound for +Valparaiso, and to call at intermediate ports--Panama among the number. +The advertisement directs reference to be made to a shipping-agent, by +name Don Tomas Silvestre. + +In answer to it, the Chilian has received a letter from a gentleman who +had already communicated with the agent, and who has promised to present +himself on board the _Condor_ by 12 mid-day of this same day. + +Although a stranger to the port of San Francisco, Captain Lantanas has +some knowledge of his correspondent; for Don Tomas has the day before +informed him that a gentleman from whom he may expect to hear--the same +whose name is signed to the letter--is a man of immense wealth; a landed +proprietor, whose acres lie contiguous to the rising city of San +Francisco, and for this reason enormously increased in value by the +influx of gold-seeking immigrants. What this important personage may +want with him, Lantanas cannot tell; for Silvestre himself has not been +made aware of it--the gentleman declining to state his business to any +other than the captain of the ship. + +On the morning of the appointed day, leaning as usual against his +capstan, and puffing his paper cigar, the Chilian skipper is not in a +mood for playing with his monkey pets. His mind is given to a more +serious matter, his whole thoughts absorbed in conjecturing for what +purpose his unknown correspondent may be seeking the interview. + +He is not without surmises, in which he is assisted by something he has +heard while mixing in Spanish circles ashore--this, that the landowner +in question has lately sold his land, realising a very large sum--half a +million dollars being the amount stated. Furthermore, that being a +Peninsular Spaniard, and neither Mexican nor Californian, he is about to +return to Spain, taking with him his household gods--Lares, Penates, and +all. + +These could not be stowed in a single state-room, but would require a +whole ship, or a goodly portion of one. The _Condor_ has still plenty +of room to spare. Her hold is not half full; and her cabin has +accommodation for one or two passengers. May it be on this business his +correspondent is coming aboard. + +So Captain Lantanas interrogates himself, while standing upon his +quarterdeck, and with the glowing coal of his cigarrito sending off his +hairy familiars, who, in their play, at times intrude upon him. + +It pleases him to think he may have surmised correctly; and, while still +indulging in conjectures, he sees that which puts an end to them--a +shore-boat, with a single pair of rowers, and a gentleman--evidently a +landsman--seated in the stern-sheets, to all appearance coming on for +the _Condor_. + +Captain Lantanas steps to the side of his ship; and, standing in her +waist, awaits the arrival of his visitor. + +As the boat draws near he makes out a man, dressed in semi-Californian +costume, such as is worn by the higher class of _haciendados_. The +skipper can have no doubts about who it is. If he has, they are soon +set at rest; for the boat touching the ship's side is instantly made +fast; the _haciendado_ mounts the man-ropes; and, stepping down upon the +deck, hands Captain Lantanas his card. + +He who has thus presented himself is a man in years well up to sixty, +and somewhat above medium height. Taller than he appears, through a +slight stoop in the shoulders. His step, though not tottering, shows +vigour impaired; and upon his countenance are the traces of recent +illness, with strength not yet restored. His complexion is clear, +rather rubicund, and in health might be more so; while his hair, both on +head and chin--the latter furnished with a long flowing beard--is +snow-white. It could never have been very dark, but more likely of the +colour called sandy. This, with greyish-blue eyes, and features showing +some points of Celtic conformation, would argue him either no Spaniard, +or if so, one belonging to the province of Biscay. + +This last he is; for the correspondent of Captain Lantanas is Don +Gregorio Montijo. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. + +A CHARTER-PARTY. + +Soon, as assured--by a glance at the card given him--that his visitor is +the gentleman who has written to appoint an interview, Captain Lantanas +politely salutes; and _jipi-japa_ in hand, stands waiting to hear what +the _haciendado_ may have to say. + +The latter, panting after the effort made in ascending the man-ropes, +takes a moment's time to recover breath. Then, returning the skipper's +bow, he says, interrogatively:-- + +"Captain Lantanas, I presume?" + +"Si, senor," responds the master of the _Condor_, with a bow of becoming +humility to one reputed so rich. Then adding: "_A dispocion de V_." + +"Well, captain," rejoins Don Gregorio, "I shall take it for granted that +you know who I am. Don Tomas Silvestre has informed you, has he not?" + +"He has, senor." + +"And you received my letter?" + +"Si, senor." + +"That's all right, then. And now to proceed to the business that has +brought me aboard your ship. Having seen your advertisement in the +_Diario_, I communicated with Don Tomas; but only so far as to get your +correct address, with some trifling particulars. For the rest, I've +thought it best to deal directly with yourself; as the matter I have in +hand is too important to be entrusted to an agent. In short, it +requires confidence, if not secrecy, and from what I've heard of you, +Senor Lantanas, I feel sure I can confide in you." + +"You compliment me, Senor Montijo." + +"No, no; nothing of the kind. I but speak from the account Silvestre +has given me of your character. But now to business. Your ship is +advertised for freight, or passage?" + +"Either, or both." + +"Bound for Valparaiso and intermediate ports?" + +"Anywhere down the coast." + +"Have you passengers already engaged?" + +"Not any as yet." + +"How many can you take?" + +"Well, senor, to speak truth, my craft is not intended to carry +passengers. She's a trading-vessel, as you see. But if you'll step +down to the cabin, you can judge for yourself. There's a saloon--not +very large, it is true--and sleeping accommodation for six--two snug +staterooms that will serve, if need be, for ladies." + +"That'll do. Now about the freight. Don Tomas tells me you have some +cargo aboard." + +"A portion of my ship is already occupied." + +"That won't signify to me. I suppose there's enough room left for +something that weighs less than a ton, and isn't of any great bulk. Say +it will take a score or two of cubic feet. You can find stowage for +that?" + +"Oh, yes, that and much more." + +"So far good. And you can accommodate three passengers: a gentleman and +two ladies? In short, myself and the female members of my family--my +daughter and grand-daughter?" + +"Will the Senor Montijo step into the _Condor's_ cabin, and see for +himself?" + +"By all means." + +Captain Lantanas leads down the stairway, his visitor following. + +The saloon is inspected; after it the sleeping-rooms, right and left. + +"Just the thing," says Don Gregorio, speaking as in soliloquy, and +evidently satisfied. "It will do admirably," he adds, addressing +himself to the skipper. "And now about terms. What are they to be?" + +"That, senor, will depend on what is wanted. To what port do you wish +me to take you?" + +"Panama. 'Tis one of the ports mentioned in your advertisement?" + +"It is, senor." + +"Well, for this freight--as I've told you, about a ton, with some +trifling household effects--and the three passengers, how much?" + +"The terms of freight, as you may be aware, are usually rated according +to the class of goods. Is it gold, senor? From your description. I +suppose it is." + +The skipper has guessed aright. It is gold, nearly a ton of it, +accruing to Don Gregorio from the sale of his land, for which he has +been paid in dust and nuggets, at that time the only coin in +California--indeed, the only circulating medium, since notes were not to +be had. + +"Suppose it to be gold," he answers guardedly, "how much then?" + +The _ex-ganadero_ is by no means a niggardly man; still, he would like +to have his treasure transported at a rate not exorbitant. And yet he +is anxious about its safety; and for this reason has resolved to ship it +with secrecy in a private trading-vessel, instead of by one of the +regular liners, that have already commenced plying between San Francisco +and Panama. He has heard that these are crowded with miners returning +home; rough fellows, many of them queer characters--some little better +than bandits. He dislikes the idea of trusting his gold among them, and +equally his girls, since no other ladies are likely to be going that +way. He has full faith in the integrity of Captain Lantanas; knows the +Chilian to be a man of gentle heart--in fact, a gentleman. Don Tomas +has told him all this. + +Under the circumstances, and with such a man, it will not do to drive +too hard a bargain; and Don Gregorio, thus reflecting, at length +confesses his freight to be gold bullion, and asks the skipper to name +his terms. + +Lantanas, after a moment spent in mental calculation, says: + +"One thousand dollars for the freight, and a hundred each for the three +passages. Will that satisfy you, senor?" + +"It seems a large sum," rejoins Don Gregorio. "But I am aware prices +are high just now; so I agree to it. When will you be ready to sail?" + +"I am ready now, senor--that is, if--" + +"If what?" + +Lantanas, remembering his crewless ship, does not make immediate answer. + +"If," says the Spaniard, noticing his hesitation, and mistaking the +reason--"if you're calculating on any delay from me, you needn't. I can +have everything on board in three or four days--a week at the utmost." + +The skipper is still silent, thinking of excuses. He dislikes losing +the chance of such a profitable cargo, and yet knows he cannot name any +certain time of sailing, for the want of hands to work his vessel. + +There seems no help for it but to confess his shortcomings. Perhaps Don +Gregorio will wait till the _Condor_ can get a crew. The more likely, +since every other vessel in port is in a similar predicament. + +"Senor," he says at length, "my ship is at your service; and I should be +pleased and proud to have you and your ladies as my passengers. But +there's a little difficulty to be got over before I can weigh anchor." + +"Clearance duties--port dues to be paid. You want the passage-money +advanced, I presume? Well, I shall not object to prepaying it in part. +How much will you require?" + +"_Mil gracias_, Senor Montijo. It's not anything of the kind. Although +far from rich, thank Heaven, neither I nor my craft is under embargo. I +could sail out of San Francisco in half-an-hour, but for the want of--" + +"Want of what?" asks Don Gregorio in some surprise. + +"Well, senor--sailors." + +"What! Have you no sailors?" + +"I am sorry to say, not one." + +"Well, Captain Lantanas, I thought it strange observing nobody aboard +your ship--except that black fellow. But I supposed your sailors had +gone ashore." + +"So have they, senor; and intend staying there. Alas! that's the +trouble. They've gone off to the gold-diggings--every one of them, +except my negro cook. Likely enough, I should have lost him too, but he +knows that California is now part of the United States, and fears that +some speculating Yankee might make a slave of him, or that perchance he +might meet his old master: for he has had one." + +"How vexatious all this!" says Don Gregorio. "I suppose I shall have to +look out for another ship." + +"I fear you'll not find one much better provided than mine--as regards +sailors. In that respect, to use a professional phrase, we're all in +the same boat." + +"You assure me of that!" + +"I do, senor." + +"I can trust you, Captain Lantanas. As I have told you, I'm not here +without knowing something of yourself. You have a friend in Don Tomas +Silvestre?" + +"I believe I have the honour of Don Tomas's friendship." + +"Well, he has recommended you in such terms that I can thoroughly rely +upon you. For that reason, I shall now make more fully known to you why +I wish to travel by your ship." + +The Chilian skipper bows thanks for the compliment, and silently awaits +the proffered confidence. + +"I've just sold my property here, receiving for it three hundred +thousand dollars in gold-dust--the same I intended for your freight. It +is now lying at my house, some three miles from town. As you must be +aware, captain, this place is at present the rendezvous of scoundrels +collected from every country on the face of the habitable globe, but +chiefly from the United States and Australia. They live, and act, +almost without regard to law; such judges as they have being almost as +great criminals as those brought before them. I feel impatient to get +away from the place; which under the circumstances, you won't wonder at. +And I am naturally anxious about my gold. At any hour a band of these +lawless ruffians may take it into their heads to strip me of it--or, at +all events, attempt to do so. Therefore, I wish to get it on board a +ship--one where it will be safe, and in whose captain I can thoroughly +confide. Now, you understand me?" + +"I do," is the simple response of the Chilian. He is about to add that +Don Gregorio's property, as his secret, will be safe enough, so far as +he can protect it, when the latter interrupts him by continuing: + +"I may add that it is my intention to return to Spain, of which I am a +native--to Cadiz, where I have a house. That I intended doing anyhow. +But now, I want to take departure at once. As a Spaniard, senor, I +needn't point out to you, who are of the same race, that the society of +California cannot be congenial--now that the rowdies of the United +States have become its rulers. I am most anxious to get away from the +place, and soon as possible. It is exceedingly awkward your not having +a crew. Can't something be done to procure one?" + +"The only thing is to offer extra pay. There are plenty of sailors in +San Francisco; for they've not all gone to gather gold. Some are +engaged in scattering it. Unfortunately, most are worthless, drunken +fellows. Still it is possible that a few good men might be found, were +the wages made sufficiently tempting. No doubt, an advertisement in the +_Diario_, offering double pay, might attract as many as would be needed +for working my ship." + +"How much would it all amount to?" + +"Possibly an extra thousand dollars." + +"Suppose I pay that, will you engage the whole ship to me? That is, +take no other passengers, or wait for any more freight, but sail at +once--soon as you've secured a crew? Do you agree to these terms?" + +"Si, senor; they are perfectly satisfactory." + +"I'll be answerable for the extra wages. Anything to get away from this +Pandemonium of a place." + +"In that case, senor, I think we'll have no great difficulty in +procuring hands. You authorise me to advertise for them?" + +"I do," answers Don Gregorio. + +"Enough!" rejoins the skipper. "And now, Senor Montijo, you may make +your preparations for embarking." + +"I've not many to make; nearly all has been done already. It's only to +get our personal baggage aboard, with the freight safely stowed. By the +way," adds the Biscayan, speaking _sotto-voce_, "I wish to ship the gold +as soon as possible, and without attracting attention to it. You +understand me, captain?" + +"I do." + +"I shall have it brought aboard at night, in a boat which belongs to +Silvestre. It will be safer in your cabin than anywhere else--since no +one need be the wiser about the place of deposit." + +"No one shall, through me." + +"That I feel certain of, Senor Lantanas. Don Tomas is your endorser; +and would be willing to be your bondsman, were it needed--which it is +not." + +Again the _Condor's_ captain bows in acknowledgment of the confidence +reposed in him; and after some further exchange of speech, respecting +the shipment of the treasure, and the writing out an advertisement, +which Don Gregorio is to _get_ inserted in the _Diario_, the latter +returns to his boat, and is rowed back to the shore; while the Chilian +lights a fresh cigarette, and with elbows rested on the capstan-head, +resumes his customary attitude of _insouciance_, from which he had been +temporarily roused. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. + +IN SEARCH OF A SECOND. + +Just about the time Don Gregorio is taking leave of Captain Lantanas, +the two unwelcome, as unreceived, visitors are turning their backs upon +his house. + +De Lara feels his discomfiture the keenest. His heart is harrowed with +mingled emotions--passions of varied complexion, all evil. His lips are +livid with rage, his brow black with chagrin, while his eyes fairly +scintillate with unsatisfied vengeance. + +While returning along the avenue he neither looks back, nor up. Not a +syllable escapes him; with glance upon the ground, he rides in sullen +silence. + +After clearing the entrance-gate, and again upon the outside road, he +turns face toward the dwelling whose hospitality has been so insultingly +denied him. He sees nought there to soothe, but something which still +further afflicts him. Four horses are filing out through the front +gate, conducted by grooms. They are saddled, bridled, ready for being +mounted. To his practised eye, their caparison tells that they are +intended only for a short excursion, not a journey. And though their +saddles are in shape nearly alike, he knows that two of them are to be +mounted by men, the other two to carry ladies. + +"The senoritas are going out for a ride--a _paseo de campo_--accompanied +by their English guests," observes Calderon. + +Simultaneously, as instinctively, de Lara arrives at this conclusion. +Both now know why they were not received; a knowledge which, instead of +tranquillising their chafed spirits, but maddens them the more. The +thought of their sweethearts being escorted by these detested rivals, +riding along wild unfrequented paths, through trees overshadowing, away +from the presence of spying domestics, or the interference of protecting +relatives, beyond the eyes and ears of every one--the thought that +Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez are setting out on an excursion of this +kind, is to Francisco de Lara and Faustino Calderon bitter as deadliest +poison. + +And reflection embitters it the more. The excursionists will have every +opportunity of wandering at will. They will become separated; and there +can be no doubt as to how the partition will be made; the older of the +two officers will pair off with Dona Carmen, the younger with Dona Inez. +Thus, they will ride unmolested, unobserved; converse without fear of +being overheard; clasp hands without danger of being seen--perhaps +exchange kisses! Oh, the dire, desperate jealousy! Even the dull brain +and cold heart of Calderon are fired by these reflections. They sting +him to the quick. But not as De Lara; for not as De Lara does he love. + +After gazing for a while at the house--at the horses and grooms--at the +preparations that are being made for mounting--noting their magnificent +style--with a last glance such as Satan gave when expelled from +Paradise, the Creole drives the spur deep into his horse's ribs, and +dashes off down the hill the Californian after. + +At its bottom they again come to a halt, being now out of sight of the +house. Facing toward his companion, De Lara says: + +"We're in for a fight, Faustino; both of us." + +"Not both. I don't think I'm called upon to challenge that youngster. +He's but a boy." + +"He's been man enough to insult you; and, if I mistake not, you'll find +him man enough to meet you." + +"I don't see that he _did_ insult me." + +"Indeed; you don't? Sticking your horse, as if it were a pig, and +sending him off in a stampede that well nigh dismounted you; all before +the face of your lady-love--right under her eyes! You don't deem that +an insult, eh?" + +"But you must remember I gave him provocation. At your bidding, I all +but rode over him. Looking at it in that light, he's in a sense +excusable for what he did. Besides, he only meant it as a joke. Didn't +you see, when it was all over, how he laughed at it?" + +"Not at _it_, but at _you_. So did your sweetheart, _amigo_. As we +reined up under the walls, I could see her long lashes drooping down, +the eyes looking disdain at you, with her pretty lips pouting in very +scorn. You're evidently out of her good graces, and you'll have to do +something ere you can reinstate yourself." + +"Do you really think so?" + +"I am sure of it. Never surer of anything in my life." + +"But what would you have me to do?" + +"You ought to know without asking me. Call out the cub, and _kill_ +him--if you can. What I design doing with my gentleman." + +"Ah! you're a dead shot; and that makes all the difference. These +Anglo-Saxons always use pistols; and if I challenge him, he'll have the +choice of weapons." + +"Quite true. With me it will be different. I took care to _give_ the +affront, and you should have done the same. Seeing you got the worst of +it, you ought to have followed up your first dash at him by something +besides--a slap across the cheek, or a cut with your whip." + +"I'm sorry now I didn't give him one or the other." + +"Well, you may find an opportunity yet. For my quarrel, I don't care a +toss whether it be settled with swords or pistols. We Creoles of +Louisiana are accustomed to the use of either weapon. Thanks to old +Gardalet of the Rue Royale, I've got the trick of both; and am equally +ready to send a half-ounce of lead, or twelve inches of steel, through +the body of this Britisher. By the way, what's his name?" + +The speaker pulls out the card given him by the English officer, and +glancing at it, answers his own question: "Edward Crozier, H.M.S. +_Crusader_." + +"Ha! Mr Ned Crozier!" he exclaims, speaking in plain English, the +sight of the card seemingly giving a fresh fillip to his spleen; "you've +had your triumph to-day. 'Twill be mine to-morrow. And, if my fortune +don't fail me, there'll be an empty seat at the mess-table of the ship +_Crusader_." + +"You really intend fighting him?" + +"Now, Don Faustino Calderon, why do you ask that question?" + +"Because I think all might be arranged without--" + +"Without what? Speak out, man!" + +"Why, without any spilling of blood." + +"You may arrange it that way, if you like. Your quarrel is a distinct +one, and I've nothing to do with it--having my own hands full. Indeed, +if they were empty, I'm not so sure I should be your second--talking as +you do. However, that's not the purpose now. In answer to your first +question, I can only say what I've said before. I not only intend +fighting this Crozier, but _killing_ him. True, I may fail in my +intention; if so, there's an end of it, and of _me_. For, once on the +ground, I don't leave it a living man, if he do. One or both of us +shall stay there, till we're carried off--feet-foremost." + +"_Carramba_! your talk gives one the trembles. It's not pleasant to +think of such things, let alone doing them." + +"Think your own way, and welcome. To me it would be less pleasant to +leave them undone; less now, than ever in my life. After what I've gone +through, I don't care much for character--in truth, not a straw. That's +all stuff and pretension. Money makes the man, and without it he's +nothing; though he were a saint. Respectability--bah! I don't value it +a _claco_. But there's a reputation of another kind I _do_ value, and +intend to preserve. Because in my world it counts for something--has +counted already." + +"What is that?" + +"Courage. Losing it, I should lose everything. And in this very city +of San Francisco, I'd be only a hound where I'm now a hunter; barked at +by every cur, and kicked by every coward who choose to pick a quarrel +with me." + +"There's no danger of that, Don Francisco. All who have had dealings +with you know better. There's little fear of any one putting a slight +upon _you_." + +"There would be, if I refused to fight this fellow. Then you'd see the +difference. Why, Faustino Calderon. I couldn't sit at our monte table, +and keep the red-shirts from robbing us, if they didn't know 'twould be +a dangerous game to play. However, it isn't _their_ respect I value +now, but that of one very different." + +"Of whom?" + +"Again you ask an idle question; so idle, that I don't believe you care +a straw for Inez Alvarez--or know what love is." + +"What has she to do with it?" + +"She--nothing. That's true enough. I don't care aught for her, or what +she might think of me. But I do care for Carmen Montijo; above all +things I value her good opinion. At least, so far, that she sha'n't +think me either a fool or a coward. She may be fancying me the first; +but if so, she'll find herself mistaken. At all events, she'll get +convinced I'm not the last. And if it be as rumour reports, and as you +say you've heard, that she's given her heart to this _gringo_, I'll take +care she don't bestow her _hand_ upon him--not while I live. When I'm +dead, she can do as she likes." + +"But after what's passed, will you ever speak to her again?" + +"Ay, that will I--in a way that'll make her listen to me." + +"But, surely, you don't still intend proposing to her?" + +"Perhaps. Though not till I've finished this affair with the fellow who +interrupted me. Yes; I'll give her every chance to save herself. She +shall say yea, or nay, in straight speech, and in so many words. After +that, I'll understand how to act. But come! we're wasting time. A +duel's a thing won't do to dally over. Do you intend to meet your man, +or not?" + +"I'd rather not," replies the poltroon, hesitatingly; "that is, if the +thing can be arranged. Do you think it can, De Lara?" + +"Of course, it can; your _thing_, as you call it; though not without +disgrace to you. You should fight him, Faustino." + +"Well; if you say I should, why, I suppose I must. I never fired a +pistol in my life, and am only second-rate with the sword. I can handle +a _machete_, or a _cuchilla_, when occasion calls for it; but these +weapons won't be admitted in a duel between gentlemen. I suppose the +sailor fellow claims to be one?" + +"Undoubtedly he does, and with good reason. An officer belonging to a +British man-of-war would call you out for questioning his claim to the +epithet. But I think you underrate your skill with the small-sword. +I've seen you doing very well with that weapon--at Roberto's +fencing-school." + +"Yes; I took lessons there. But fencing is very different from +fighting." + +"Never mind. When you get on the duelling-ground, fancy yourself within +the walls of Roberto's shooting-gallery, and that you are about to take +a fresh lesson in the _art d'escrime_. About all, choose the sword for +your weapon." + +"How can I, if I am to be the challenger?" + +"You needn't be. There's a way to get over that. The English officers +are not going straight back to their ship; not likely before a late hour +of the night. After returning from their ride, I take it they'll stay +to dinner at Don Gregorio's; and with wine to give them a start, they'll +be pretty sure to have a cruise, as they call it, through the town. +There, you may meet your man; and can insult him, by giving him a cuff, +spitting in his face--anything to put the onus of challenging upon him." + +"_Por Dios_! I'll do as you say." + +"That's right. Now let us think of what's before us. As we are both to +be principals, we can't stand seconds to one another. I know who'll act +for me. Have you got a friend you can call upon?" + +"Don Manuel Diaz. He's the only one I can think of." + +"Don Manuel will do. He's a cool hand, and knows all the regulations of +the _duello_. But he's not at home to-day. As I chance to know, he's +gone to a _funcion de gallos_ at Punta Pedro; and by this time should be +in the cock-pit." + +"Why can't we go there? Or had we better send?" + +"Better send, I think. Time's precious--at least mine is. As you know, +I must be at the monte table soon as the lamps are lit. If I'm not, the +bank will go begging, and we may lose our customers. Besides, there's +my own second to look up, which must be done this day before I lay a +hand upon the cards. What hour is it? I've not brought my timepiece +with me." + +"Twelve o'clock, and a quarter past," answers Calderon, after consulting +his watch. + +"Only that! Then we'll have plenty of time to get to Punta Pedro, and +witness a main. Don Manuel has a big bet on his _pardo_. I'd like +myself to stake a doubloon or two on that bird. Yes, on reflection, +we'd better go to the _pelea de gallos_. That will be the surest way to +secure the services of Diaz. _Vamonos_!" + +At this the two intending duellists again set their steeds in motion; +and, riding for a short distance along the shore-road, turn into +another, which will take them to Punta Pedro. + +With jealous anger still unappeased, they urge their horses into a +gallop, riding as if for life, on an errand whose upshot may be death-- +to one or both of them. + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN. + +A "PASEO DE CABALLO." + +The promontory called Punta Pedro is not in San Francisco Bay, but on +the outside coast of the Pacific. To reach it from the former, it is +necessary to traverse the dividing ridge between the two waters--this a +spur of the "Coast Range," which, running higher as it trends southward, +is known to Spanish Californians as the San Bruno Mountains. + +Punta Pedro abuts from their base into the ocean; the coast in this +quarter being bold and picturesque, but almost uninhabited. Here and +there only the solitary hut of a seal-hunter, or fisherman, with a small +collection of the same near the point itself, bearing its name, and a +somewhat indifferent reputation. The Anglo-Saxon gold-seekers do not go +there; it is only frequented by the natives. + +From San Francisco to Punta Pedro the road runs past Dolores--an ancient +mission of the Franciscan monks, whose port was, as already stated, +Yerba Buena, previous to becoming re-christened San Francisco. + +This route De Lara and Calderon have taken, getting into it by a +cross-cut; and along it they continue to ride, still at a gallop, with +faces set for Dolores. + +They are not the only equestrians moving along that road. The dust +kicked up by their horses hoofs has just settled down when a second +party appears, going in the same direction, though at a gentler gait; +for it is a cavalcade composed partly of ladies. + +It is a quartette, two of each sex; and as the horses are the same +already seen standing saddled in the courtyard of Don Gregorio's house, +it is not necessary to give the names of the riders. These can be +guessed. + +Dona Carmen is carrying out the instructions left by her father, who, +Californian fashion, supposed he could give his sailor-guests no greater +treat than a _paseo de caballo_, including an excursion to the old +Dolores Mission, without a visit to which no exploration of the country +around San Francisco can be considered complete. It is not the least of +California's "lions." + +Like most Spanish-American ladies, Don Gregorio's daughter takes delight +in the saddle, and spends some part of each day in it. An accomplished +_equestrienne_, she could take a five-barred gate, or a bullfinch, with +any of the hunting Dianas of England; and, if she has not ridden to +hounds, she has chased wild horses, mounted on one but little less wild. +That on which she now sits seems but half-tamed. Fresh from the +stable, he rears and pitches, at times standing erect on his hind legs. +For all, his rider has no fear of being unhorsed. She only smiles, +pricks him with the spur, and regardlessly cuts him with her _cuarto_. + +Much after the same fashion acts Inez, for she, too, has learned the +Californian style of equitation. + +The two present a picture that, to the eye unaccustomed to Mexican +habits, might seem somewhat _bizarre_. Their mode of mount--as already +said, _a la Duchesse de Berri_--their half-male attire, hats of vicuna +wool, _calzoncillas_ lace-fringed over their feet, buff boots, and large +rowelled spurs--all these give them an air of _bizarrerie_, at the same +time a pleasing picturesqueness; and, if appearing bold, still +beautiful, as the South Sea wind flouts back the limp brims of their +sombreros, and tosses their hair into dishevelment, while the excitement +of the ride brings the colour to their cheeks--with flashes, as of fire, +from their eyes. + +The young English officers regard them with glances of ardent +admiration. If they have been but smitten before, they are getting fast +fixed now; and both will soon be seriously in love. The _paseo de +caballo_ promises to terminate in a proposal for a longer journey in +companionship--through life, in pairs. + +They are thus grouped: Crozier alongside Carmen--Cadwallader with Inez. +The officers are in their uniforms--a costume for equestrian exercise +not quite shipshape as they would phrase it. On horseback in a naval +uniform! It would not do riding thus on an English road; there the +veriest country lout would criticise it. But different in California, +where all ride, gentle or simple, in dresses of every conceivable cut +and fashion, with no fear of being ridiculed therefor. None need attach +to the dress worn by Edward Crozier. His rank has furnished him with a +frock-coat, which, well-fitting, gives a handsome contour to his person. +Besides, he is a splendid horseman--has followed hounds before he ever +set foot aboard a ship. Carmen Montijo perceives this; can tell it with +half a glance; and it pleases her to reflect that her escorting cavalier +is equal to the occasion. She believes him equal to anything. + +With the other pair the circumstances are slightly different. Will +Cadwallader is no horseman, having had but scant practice--a fact patent +to all--Inez as the others. Besides, the mid is dressed in a +pea-jacket; which, although becoming enough aboard ship, looks a little +_outre_ in the saddle, especially upon a prancing Californian steed. +Does it make the young Welshman feel ashamed of himself? Not a bit. He +is not the stuff to be humiliated on the score of an inappropriate +costume. Nor yet by his inferiority in horsemanship, of which he is +himself well aware. He but laughs as his steed prances about--the +louder when it comes near pitching him. + +How does he appear in the eyes of Inez Alvarez? Does she think him +ridiculous? No. On the contrary, she seems charmed, and laughs along +with him--delighted by his _naivete_, and the courage he displays in not +caring for consequences. She knows he is out of his own element--the +sea. She believes that on it he would be brave, heroic; among ropes the +most skilled of reefers; and if he cannot gracefully sit a home, he +could ride big billows, breasting them like an albatross. + +Thus mutually taking each other's measure, the four equestrians canter +on, and soon arrive at the mission. + +But they do not design to stay there. The ride has _been_ too short, +the sweet moments have flown quickly; and the summit of a high hill, +seen far beyond, induces them to continue the excursion. + +They only stop to give a glance at the old monastery, where Spanish +monks once lorded it over their copper-skinned neophytes; at the church, +where erst ascended incense, and prayers were pattered in the ears of +the aborigines--by them ill understood. + +A moment spent in the cemetery, where Carmen points out the tomb +enclosing the remains of her mother, dropping a tear upon it--perhaps +forced from her by the reflection that soon she will be far from that +sacred spot--it may be, never to revisit it! + +Away from it now; and on to that hill from which they can descry the +Pacific! + +In another hour they have reined up on its summit, and behold the great +South Sea, stretching to far horizon's verge, to the limit of their +vision. Before them all is bright and beautiful. Only some specks in +the dim distance--the lone isles of the Farrallones. More northerly, +and nearer, the "Seal" rocks and that called _Campana_--from its arcade +hollowed out by the wash of waves, giving it a resemblance to the belfry +of a church. Nearer still, below a belt of pebbly beach, a long line of +breakers, foam-crested, and backed by a broad reach of sand-dunes--there +termed _medanos_. + +Seated in the saddle, the excursionists contemplate this superb +panorama. The four are now together, but soon again separate into +pairs, as they have been riding along the road. Somehow or other, their +horses have thus disposed themselves: that ridden by Crozier having +drawn off with the one carrying Carmen; while the steed so ill-managed +by Cadwallader has elected to range itself alongside that of Inez. + +Perhaps the pairing has not been altogether accidental. Whether or no, +it is done; and the conversation, hitherto general, is reduced to the +simplicity of dialogue. + +To report it correctly, it is necessary to take the pairs apart, giving +priority to those who by their years have the right to it. + +Crozier, looking abroad over the ocean, says-- + +"I shall ere long be upon it." He accompanies the speech with a sigh. + +"And I, too," rejoins Carmen, in a tone, and with accompaniment, +singularly similar. + +"How soon do you think of leaving California?" queries the young +officer. + +"Oh, very soon! My father is already making arrangements, and hopes +being able to set sail in a week, if not less. Indeed, he has this day +been to see about taking passages to Panama. That's why he was not at +home to receive you; leaving me to do the honours of the house, and +apologise for his seeming rudeness." + +For that not much apology was needed, thinks Crozier, who is for a time +silent, not knowing what next to say. Love, reputed eloquent, is oft +the reverse; and though opening the lips of a landsman, will shut those +of men who follow the sea. There is a remarkable modesty about the +latter more than the former--in the presence of women. Why, I cannot +tell; only knowing that as a rule it is so; and certainly in the case of +Edward Crozier. + +In time he gets over his embarrassment, so far as to venture upon an +interrogatory, not very pertinent-- + +"I suppose, Dona Carmen, you are very happy at the prospect of returning +to Spain?" + +"No, indeed," answers Don Gregorio's daughter. "On the contrary, it +makes me rather melancholy. I love dear California, and could live in +it all my life. Couldn't you?" + +"Under certain circumstances, I could." + +"But you like the country, don't you?" + +"I do, now. In ten days from this time, I shall no longer care for it-- +not three straws." + +"Why do you say that, Don Eduardo? There's an enigma in your words. +Please explain them?" + +While asking the question, her grey-blue eyes gaze into his, with an +expression of searching eagerness--almost anxiety. + +"Shall I tell you why, senorita!" + +"I have asked you, senor." + +"Well, then, I like California now, because it contains the fairest +object on earth--to me the dearest--the woman I love. In ten days or +less, by her own showing, she will be away from it; why should I care +for it then? Now, Dona Carmen, I've given you the key to what you've +called an enigma." + +"Not quite. Perhaps you will pardon a woman's curiosity, if I ask the +name of the lady who thus controls your likes and dislikes." + +Crozier hesitates, a red spot flushing out upon his cheek. He is about +to pronounce a name--perhaps make a speech, the most important he has +ever made in his life--because laden with his life's happiness, or +leading to the reverse. What if it should be coldly received? + +But no; he cannot be mistaken. Her question, so quaintly, yet so +impressively put--surely courts the answer he intends giving? And he +gives it without further reflection--her own name, not an added word. + +"_Carmen Montijo_." + +"Eduardo," she asks, after a pause, dropping the Don, "are you in +earnest? Can I take this as true? Do not deceive me--in honour do not! +To you--and I truly tell you--I have surrendered all my heart. Say +that I have yours!" + +"I have said it, Carmen," he too adopting the familiar language of love. +"Have I not?" + +"Sincerely?" + +"Look in my eyes for the answer." + +She obeys; and drawing closer, tiny gaze into one another's eyes; the +flashes from the blue crossing and commingling with those from the +brown. Neither could mistake the meaning of the glance, for it is the +true light of love, pure as passionate. + +Not another word passes between them. The confession, with its dreaded +crisis, is passed; and, with hearts quivering in sweet content, they +turn their thoughts to the future, full of pleasant promise. + +Near by are two other hearts, quite as happy as theirs; though after a +scene less sentimental, and a dialogue that, to a stranger overhearing +it, might appear to be in jest. For all, in real earnest, and so +ending--as may be inferred from the young Welshman's final speech, with +the reply of his Andalusian sweetheart: + +"Inez, you're the dearest girl I've met in all my cruisings. Now, don't +let us beat about any longer, but take in sail, and bring the ship to an +anchor. Will you be mine, and marry me?" + +"I will." + +No need to stay longer there--no object in continuing to gaze over the +ocean. + +The horses seem instinctively to understand this; and, turning together, +set their heads for home. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY. + +POT VALIANT. + +The bright Californian sun is declining towards the crest of the Coast +Range, when two horsemen, coming from the Pacific side, commence +ascending the ridge. + +As the sultry hours have passed, and a chill breeze blows from the +outside ocean, they have thrust their heads through the central slits of +their cloaks--these being _mangas_--leaving the circular skirts to droop +down below their knees--while draping back, cavalry fashion, over the +hips of their horses. The colours of these garments--one scarlet, the +other sky-blue--enable us to identify the wearers as Don Francisco de +Lara and Don Faustino Calderon; for in truth it is they, returning from +the _pelea de gallos_ at Punta Pedro. + +They have seen Diaz, and arranged everything about the duel. Faustino +has finally determined upon fight. Instigated by his more courageous +confederate, and with further pressing on the part of Diaz--a sort of +Californian bravo--his courage has been at length screwed up to the +necessary pitch; and kept there by the potent spirit of Catalonian +brandy, found freely circulating around the cock-pit. + +A flask of the _Catalan_ he has brought away with him, and at intervals +takes a pull from it, as he rides along the road. Under its influence +he becomes pot valiant; and swears, if he can but again set eyes upon +the English _guardia-marina_, he will affront him in such fashion as to +leave him no loophole of escape from being the challenger. _Carrai_! he +will do as De Lara has recommended: cuff the young officer, kick him, +spit in his face, anything to provoke the _gringo_ to a fight--that +yellow-haired cub without _bigots_ or beard. And if the cur won't +fight, then he shall apologise--get down upon his knees, acknowledge +him, Faustino Calderon, the better man, and for ever after surrender all +claim to the smiles, as to the hand, of Inez Alvarez! + +With such swaggering talk he entertains his companion, as the two are +returning to town. + +De Lara, less noisy, is nevertheless also excited. The fiery alcohol +has affected him too. Not to strengthen his courage; for of this he has +already enough; but to remove the weight from off his soul, which, after +the scene at Don Gregorio's, had been pressing heavily upon it. Six +hours have since elapsed, and for the first three he had been brooding +over his humiliation, his spirit prostrate in the dust. But the +_Catalan_ has again raised it to a pitch of exultation; especially when +he reflects upon the prospect of the sure and speedy vengeance he is +determined to take. + +It does not occur to him to doubt of success. With thorough reliance on +his skill as a swordsman, he feels sure of it. Though also a good shot, +he prefers the steel for his weapon; like most men of the southern +Latinic race, who believe Northerners to be very bunglers at sword-play, +though admitting their superiority in the handling of the pistol. As +things stand, unlike his comrade Calderon, he will have the choice of +weapons. His intended antagonist was the first to demand the card, and +must needs be challenger. + +As the two ride on, they talk alternately, both giving vent to their +spleen--the man of courage, as the coward. If not so loud, or +boastingly, as his companion, De Lara expresses himself with a more +spiteful and earnest determination; repeating much of what he has +already said at an earlier hour, but with added emphasis. Once he sees +the English officer at his rapier's point, he will show him no mercy, +but run him through, without the slightest compunction. In vain may his +adversary cry "Quarter." There can be none conceded, after what has +that day passed between them. + +"_Maldita_! it shall be a duel to the death!" he exclaims, after having +given way to a series of threats, the words pronounced with an +_empressement_ that tells him to be truly, terribly in earnest. + +They have been carrying on this excited dialogue, as their horses +climbed the slope from the Pacific side, its steepness hindering them +from going at their usual gait--a gallop. On rising the ridge's crest, +and catching sight of San Francisco, with its newly painted white walls, +and shining tin roofs, reflected red in the rays of the setting sun, De +Lara, suddenly remembering the pressure upon him as to time, strikes the +spur sharp against his horse's ribs, and puts the animal to speed. The +other imitating his example, they dash on towards Dolores. + +They have no intention to make stop at the mission; but, on reaching it, +they draw up; obedient to the hail of a man seen standing in the door of +a little tavern, or _tinacal_, frequented by the lower class of native +Californians. + +A rough, swarthy-skinned fellow, in a garb that proclaims his calling to +have connection with the sea, though not that of a sailor. He may be a +shore-boatman--perhaps a _piscador_--though, judging by his general +appearance, and the uncanny cast of his countenance, he might well pass +for a pirate. + +Stepping a few paces out from the _tinacal_, he salutes the two +horsemen, who have halted in the middle of the road to await his +approach. Despite his coarse, brutal aspect, and common habiliments, he +is evidently on terms of familiarity with both--the style of his +salutation showing it. It is with De Lara, however, his business lies, +as signified by his saying: + +"I want a word with you, Don Francisco." + +"What is it, Rocas?" asks the Creole. "Anything about _seal-skins_?" +laying a significant emphasis on the last word. + +"_Carramba_! No. Something of more importance than that." + +"Money, then?" + +"Money." + +"Do you wish our speech to be private?" + +"Just now, yes. Perhaps, in time, Don Faustino--" + +"Oh!" interrupts the _ganadero_, "don't let me stand in the way. I'll +ride slowly on; you can overtake me, Don Francisco." + +"Do," says De Lara, at the same time stooping down in his saddle, and +continuing the conversation with Rocas, in tone so low as to prevent +their speech being overheard by other queer-looking customers who have +just stepped out of the _tinacal_, and stand loitering at its door. + +Whatever Rocas may have said, it appears to make a vivid impression on +the gambler. His eyes kindle up with a strange light, in which surprise +is succeeded by an expression of cupidity; while his manner proclaims +that the revelation made to him is not only important, as he has been +forewarned, but also pleasing. + +Their muttered dialogue is of brief duration; ending with a remark which +shows it to be only preliminary to a further and more prolonged +conference. + +"I shall be with you to-morrow, by mid-day." It is De Lara who has said +this; after which adding: "_Adios, Don Rafael! Hasta manana_!" he gives +his horse the spur, and gallops to overtake his travelling companion; +Rocas sauntering back towards the _tinacal_. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. + +A "GOLPE DE CABALLO." + +On coming up with the _ganadero_, De Lara rides on silently by his side, +without exhibiting any desire to satisfy the other's curiosity. He but +piques it by saying, that Rocas has a made communication of an intensely +interesting kind; which he will impart to him, Faustino, in due time; +but now there are other matters of more importance to be attended to. +The fighting is before them; and that cannot be set aside. + +Calderon wishes it could: for the flask has been for a time forgotten, +and the spirit has been getting cold within him. + +"Take another pull!" counsels his companion; "you may need it. We'll +soon be in the town, and, perhaps, the first man we meet there will be +your yellow-haired rival." + +Scarcely have the words passed De Lara's lips when something in front +fixes his attention, as also that of his companion. At some distance +along the road a cloud of dust is ascending; in its midst a darker +nucleus, distinguishable as the forms of horses with riders on their +backs. There appear to be four of them, filed two and two. + +Plying their spurs, and galloping closer, the gamblers perceive that +this equestrian party is proceeding in the same direction as +themselves--towards the town. + +But they are soon near enough to know that such is not their +destination. For, despite the enshrouding dust, they have no difficulty +in identifying the individuals before them. The horses are the same +seen that morning, saddled and bridled, in front of Don Gregorio's +house. Two of the riders are Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez; the other +two-- + +At this point conjecture terminates. De Lara, certain, and no longer +able to control himself, cries out: + +"_Carajo_! it's they returning from their excursion--paired off, as I +supposed they would be! So, Calderon, you have your chance sooner than +you expected. And without seeking it--a lucky omen! There's your +rival, riding by the side of your sweetheart, and pouring soft speech +into her ear! Now's your time to set things straight--insult him to +your heart's content. I feel like giving a fresh affront to mine." + +He draws rein, bringing his horse to a halt. The _ganadero_ does the +same. Scanning the equestrians ahead, they see them two and two, each +pair some ten or twelve paces apart from the other. Crozier and Carmen +are in the advance, Cadwallader and Inez behind. + +De Lara looks not at the latter couple; his eyes are all upon the +former, staring with fixed intensity, full of jealous fire, in a glare +such as only a tiger might give, on seeing Carmen Montijo turn towards +her escorting cavalier, and bend over--he to her--till their heads are +close together, and their lips seemingly in contact! + +"_Carrai_! they're kissing!" he exclaims, in a tone of bitter +exasperation. + +He can bear it no longer. With a shout, half angry, half anguished, he +digs the spur deep, and dashes forward. + +The clattering of hoofs behind first warns Cadwallader, who is nearest +to the noise. For, up to this time, the lovers, absorbed in sweet +converse, dreamed not of danger. + +The young Welshman, glancing back, sees what it is, at the same time +hears De Lara's wild cry. Intuitively he understands that some outrage +is intended--a repetition of the morning's work, with doubtless +something more. + +Quickly he draws his dirk: not now to be used in sport, for the mere +pricking of a horse, but in serious earnest, to be buried in the body of +a man--if need be. This resolve can be read in his attitude, in his +eyes, in his features. These no longer bent in the laugh of a reckless +boy, but the rigid, resolute determination of a man. Badly as he sits +his horse, it will not do now to dash against him. The collision may +cost life--in all likelihood, that of the aggressor. + +De Lara sweeps past the midshipman without saying a word; without even +taking notice of him. His affair is with one further on. + +But now Calderon is coming up, clearly with the intent to assault, as +shown in his eyes. + +Suddenly, however, their expression changes at sight of the bared blade. +Again that diabolical dirk! Despite a pull he has just taken from the +flask, his courage fails him; and crestfallen, as a knight compelled to +lower his plume, he too passes Cadwallader, without a word--riding on +after De Lara. + +He overtakes the latter in time to be spectator of a scene; in its +commencement somewhat similar to that enacted by himself, but with a +very different termination. + +Crozier, whose ear has also caught the sounds from behind, draws bridle, +and looks back. He sees De Lara making towards him; and, at a glance, +divines the intent. It is a _golpe de caballo_, or collision of +horses--a common mode of assault among Spanish Californians. + +Instead of turning aside to avoid it, he of Shropshire determines on a +different course. He knows he is upon a strong horse, and feels +confident he can stay there. + +With this confidence he faces towards the advancing enemy, and after +taking true bearing, spurs straight at him. + +Breast to breast the horses meet, shoulder to shoulder the men. Not a +word between these themselves, both too maddened to speak. Only a cry +from Carmen Montijo, a shriek from Inez Alvarez, heard simultaneously +with the shock. + +When it is over, Don Francisco de Lara is seen rolling upon the road-- +his horse kicking and sprawling in the dust beside him. + +Regaining his feet, the gambler rushes to get hold of a pistol, whose +butt protrudes from his saddle-holster. + +He is too late: Cadwallader has come up; and, dropping down out of his +saddle, as if from a ship's shrouds, makes himself master of the weapon. + +Disarmed, his glittering attire dust-bedaubed, De Lara stands in the +middle of the road, irresolute, discomfited, conquered. He can do +nothing now, save storm and threaten--interlarding his threats with +curses--"_Carajos_!" spitefully pronounced. + +The ladies, at Crozier's request, have ridden on ahead, so that their +ears are not offended. + +After listening to the ebullition of his impotent spleen--Cadwallader +all the while loudly laughing--Crozier, in serious tone, says: + +"Don Francisco De Lara--for your card tells me that is your name--take a +sailor's advice: go quietly to your quarters; stow yourself out of +sight; and stay there till your temper cools down. We don't want you to +walk. You shall have your horse, though not your shooting-iron. That I +shall take care of myself, and may return it to you when next we meet. +The same advice to you, sir," he adds, addressing Calderon, who stands +near equally cowed and crestfallen. + +After dictating these humiliating conditions--which, _nolens volens_, +the defeated bravos are obliged to accept--the young officers leap back +into their saddles, and trot off to rejoin the ladies. + +Having overtaken these, they continue their homeward ride, with no fear +of its being again interrupted by a "_golpe de caballo_." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. + +"HASTA CADIZ!" + +On leaving Captain Lantanas, the _ex-ganadero_ returns to his house-- +though not direct. He has business to transact in the town, which stays +him. He has to see Don Tomas Silvestre, the shipping-agent, and give +directions about inserting the advertisement for sailors. That is an +affair that will occupy only a few minutes. But he has another with the +agent of a more important kind. He is personally acquainted with +Silvestre, who is, like himself, a Peninsular Spaniard and Biscayan. +Don Gregorio knows he can trust him, and does--telling him all he has +told Lantanas, making further known the arrangement he has entered into +for passages to Panama, and instructing him to assist the Chilian +skipper in procuring a crew. + +The more confidential matter relates to the shipment of his gold-dust. +He trembles to think of the risk he runs of losing it. San Francisco is +filled with queer characters--men who would stick at nothing. + +Don Tomas knows this without being told. And the thought haunts the +Biscayan like a spectre, that he will have his treasure taken from him +by theft, burglary, or bold open robbery. + +He has good reason for so apprehending. Among the latest accessions to +the population of San Francisco all three classes of criminals are +represented, and in no stinted numbers. There are ticket-of-leave men +from Australia, jail-birds from the penitentiaries of the States, +'scape-the-gallows customers from every quarter of the globe; to say +nothing of the native bandits, of which California has its share. If +known to these that yellow metal, to the value of three hundred thousand +dollars, was lying unguarded in the house of Don Gregorio Montijo, it +would not be there many days or nights. Its owner has done what he +could to keep this a secret; but the sale and transfer of his land have +leaked out, as also the handsome price obtained, and paid over to him; +hence a natural inference that the cash must be deposited somewhere. + +And everyone well knows it will be in gold-dust; since banks have not +yet been established, and there are not obtainable notes enough in San +Francisco to cover a tenth part of the amount. He had tried to convert +it thus--as more convenient for carriage and safety--but failed. + +In fine, after confiding his fears to Silvestre, and taking counsel from +him, he decides upon the plan, already in part communicated to Captain +Lantanas--of having the endangered gold-dust secretly conveyed to the +_Condor_ that very night. Don Tomas will provide the boat, with a +trusty sailor-servant he has attached to his establishment, to assist in +the removal and rowing. They can take it aboard without passing through +the town, or at all touching at the port. The boat can be brought to +the beach below Don Gregorio's house, and the gold quietly carried down +to it. Thence they can transport it direct to the ship. Once there, +Lantanas will know how to dispose of it; and surely it will be safe in +his custody--at all events, safer there than anywhere else in San +Francisco. So thinks Don Gregorio, the ship-agent agreeing with him. + +Soon everything is settled; for they spend not many minutes in +discussing the matter. The _ex-ganadero_ knows that by this time his +house will be empty, excepting the servants: for the ride on which his +girls have gone was arranged by himself, to gratify his expected +visitors. He thinks apprehensively of the unprotected treasure, and +longs to be beside it. So, remounting the stout cob that brought him to +town, he rides hastily home. + +On arrival there, he retires to his sleeping apartment; where he spends +the remainder of the day, having given strict orders not to be called, +till the party of equestrians comes back. + +But although confining himself to the chamber, he does not go to bed, +nor otherwise take repose. On the contrary, he is busy throughout the +whole afternoon, getting ready his treasure for surreptitious transport, +for it is there in the room--has been ever since it came into his +possession. Almost fearing to trust it out of his sight, he sleeps +beside it. + +Some of it is in bags, some in boxes; and he now rearranges it in the +most convenient form for carriage to the Chilian ship, and safe stowage +in her cabin-lockers. + +He has not yet completed his task, when he hears the trampling of hoofs +on the gravelled sweep outside. The riding-party has returned. + +The _saguan_ bell rings; the heavy door grates back on its hinges; and, +soon after, the horses, with the riders still on their backs, stand +panting in the _patio_. + +The master of the house sallies forth to receive his guests. He sees +them hastening to assist the ladies in dismounting. But before either +cavalier can come near them, both leap lightly out of their saddles; +then, gliding into the corridor, fling their arms around Don Gregorio's +neck--daughter and grand-daughter alike calling him "papa." + +They are effusively affectionate--more than usually so--for this night +both have a favour to ask of him. And he knows, or can guess, what it +is. He has not been blind to what has been passing between them, and +the young English officers. He suspects that vows have been exchanged-- +a double proposal made--and anticipates a demand upon himself to +sanction it. + +In both cases he is prepared to do this. For he is not unacquainted +with either the character, or social standing, of those seeking an +alliance with him. He has been aboard the British frigate, and from +Captain Bracebridge obtained information on these points. Satisfactory +in every sense. Both the young officers bear an excellent reputation. +Though differing in other respects, they are alike skilled in their +profession--each "every inch a seaman," as their commander worded it. +Besides, both are of good family--Cadwallader moderately rich--Crozier +in prospect of being immensely so--either of them fit mate for the +proudest senora in Spain. Don Gregorio's reason for supposing that on +this day engagements have been entered into, is, that the young officers +are about to take departure from the port. The _Crusader_ is under +Admiralty orders to sail for the Sandwich Islands, soon as a corvette +coming thence reaches San Francisco. Captain Bracebridge has been +commissioned by the British Government to transact some diplomatic +business with King Kamehameha. That done, he is to look in at the ports +of Panama and Callao; then home--afterwards to join the Mediterranean +squadron. As the _Crusader_, on her way to the Mediterranean, will +surely call at Cadiz, the vows this day exchanged on the shore of the +Pacific, can be thus conveniently renewed on the other side of the +Atlantic. + +At dinner--which is served soon after and in sumptuous style--Don +Gregorio makes his guests aware of the fact, that he has secured +passages for Panama, and may leave San Francisco soon as they. He +confides to them the secret of his having chartered the Chilian ship--in +short, telling them all he has told her captain--echoing the lament made +by the latter about his difficulty in obtaining a crew. + +"Perhaps," rejoins Crozier, after hearing this, "I can help your skipper +to at least one good sailor. Do you think, Will," he continues, +addressing himself to the young Welshman, "that Harry Blew is still in +San Francisco, or has he gone off to the diggings?" + +"I fancy he's still here," responds Cadwallader. "He was aboard the +frigate only the day before yesterday--having a shake hands with his old +comrades of the forecastle." + +"Who is the Senor Bloo?" inquires their host. + +"A true British tar--if you know what that means, Don Gregorio--lately +belonging to our ship, and one of the best sailors on our books. He's +off them now, as his time was out; and like many another, though not +better man, has made up his mind to go gold-seeking on the Sacramento. +Still, if he be not gone, I think we might persuade him to take a trip +on the craft you speak of. It was once Harry's sinister luck to slip +overboard in the harbour of Guaymas--dropping almost into the jaws of a +_tintorero_ shark--and my good fortune to be able to rescue him out of +his perilous plight. He is not the man to be ungrateful; and, if still +in San Francisco, I think you may count upon him for taking service on +board this Chilian vessel. True, he's only one, but worth two--ay, ten. +He not only knows how to work a ship's sails, but on a pinch could take +a lunar, and make good any port in the Pacific." + +"A most valuable man!" exclaims Don Gregorio; "would be worth his weight +in gold to Captain Lantanas. I'm sure the Chilian skipper would at once +make him his mate. Do you suppose you can find him?" + +"If in San Francisco, yes. We shall search for him this very night; +and, if found, send him either to the Chilian skipper or to the +shipping-agent you've spoken of--Silvestre. By the way, what's his +address?" + +"Here," answers Don Gregorio, drawing forth a card, and handing it +across the table to Crozier. "That's the place where Don Tomas +transacts business. It's but a poor little shed down by the beach, near +the new pier, lately constructed. Indeed, I believe he sleeps there-- +house-rent in San Francisco being at present something fabulous." + +"This will do," says Crozier, putting the card into his pocket. "If +Henry Blew can be found, he won't be far from Silvestre's office--if not +this night, by early daybreak to-morrow morning." + +It is not the custom of either Spaniards, or Spanish-Americans, to tarry +long over the dinner-table. The cloth once removed, and the ladies +gone, a glass or two of Port, Xeres, or Pedro Ximenes, and the gentlemen +also retire; not for business, but recreation out of doors, so pleasant +in southern climes. + +Dona Carmen and her niece have ascended to the _azotea_, to enjoy the +sweet twilight of a Californian summer; whither they are soon followed +by Crozier and Cadwallader. + +The master of the house has for a time parted with them--under the +excuse of having affairs to attend to. It is to complete the packing of +his gold-dust. But before leaving the _sala de comer_, and while +emptying their last glass together, he has been approached by his +sailor-guests on that subject uppermost in their thoughts, and dearest +to their hearts. Asked if he be agreeable to become the father-in-law +of one, and the--Cadwallader had difficulty in finding a word for +it--_grandfather-in-law_ of the other, to both interrogatories he has +given the same answer--"Yes." + +No wonder that, with bright faces and bounding step, the young officers +rush out, and up to the _azotea_, there to rejoin the senoritas. + +Their tale told to the latter--who have been awaiting them in anxious +expectation--will save both a world of confusion and blushes. No need +now for _them_ to talk to "papa." His consent has been obtained--they +are aware he will keep his word. + +Again the four, now formally betrothed, separate into twos, taking +opposite sides of the aerial garden. + +They converse about the far future--that awaiting them at Cadiz. But +the ladies cannot overlook, or forget, some perils more proximate. The +retrospect of the day throws a shadow over the morrow. That encounter +with De Lara and Calderon cannot end without further action. Not +likely; and both aunt and niece recall it, questioning their now +affianced lovers--adjuring them to refrain from fighting. + +These reply, making light of the matter, declaring confidence in their +own strength and skill, whatever be the upshot--at length, so assuring +their sweethearts, that both believe them invincible, invulnerable. +What woman who does not believe the same of him who holds her heart? + +Time passes; the last moments speed silently, sweetly, in the old, old +ecstasy of all-absorbing, time-killing love. + +Then the inevitable "_Adios_!" though sounding less harshly by favour of +the appended phrase--"_Hasta Cadiz_!" + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. + +ON PLEASURE BENT. + +The clocks of San Francisco are striking the hour of ten. The moon has +risen over Monte Diablo, and sends her soft mellow beams across the +waters of the bay, imparting to their placid surface a sheen as of +silver. The forms of the ships at anchor are reflected as from a +mirror; their hulls, with every spar, stay, and brace, even to the most +delicate rope of their rigging, having a duplicated representative in +the fictitious counterfeit beneath. On none is there any canvas spread; +and the unfurled flags do not display their fields, but hang motionless +along masts, or droop dead down over taffrails. + +Stillness, almost complete, reigns throughout; scarce a sound proceeding +either from the ships inshore, or those out in the offing; not even the +rattle of a chain dropping or weighing anchor, the chant of a +night-watch at the windlass, or the song of jovial tar entertaining his +messmates as they sit squatted around the forecastle stair. + +Unusual this silence at such an early hour, though easily accounted for. +That there are so few noises from the ships in San Francisco Bay, is +explained by the fact of their being but few men to make them--in many +cases not a single soul aboard. All have deserted; either for good, and +are gone to the "diggings," or only for the night, to take part in the +pleasures and dissipations of the town. Now and then a boat may be +seen, putting off from, or returning to, the side of some vessel better +manned--by its laborious movement, and the unmeasured stroke of oars, +telling that even it lacks a full complement of crew. + +Inside the town, everything is different. There, noises enough, with +plenty of people; crowded streets, flashing lights, and a Babel-like +confusion of voices. It is now the hour when iniquity has commenced its +nightly career, or, rather, reached its full flush; since in San +Francisco certain kinds of it are carried on throughout all hours of the +day. Business houses are closed; but these are in small proportion to +the places of pleasure, which keep their doors and windows wide open, +and where dissipation reigns paramount, as permanent. Into the +gambling-saloons go men laden with gold-dust, often coming out with +their wallets lighter than when they went in, but their hearts a deal +heavier. After toiling for months up to their middle, in the chill +waters of streams that course down from the eternal snows of the Sierra +Nevada, working, washing--while so occupied, half-starving--they return +to San Francisco to scatter in a single night--oft in one hour--the +hoarded gatherings of a half-year! + +Into this pleasure-seeking city are about to enter two personages of +very different appearance from those usually seen loitering in its +saloons or hastening through its streets; for they are young officers +belonging to a British frigate--Edward Crozier and William Cadwallader. +They are returning to their ship; not directly, as they were rowed +ashore, but through the town; Crozier having ordered the boat to be +brought to one of the rough wooden wharfs recently erected. + +They are advancing along the shore-road, afoot; having declined their +host's offer of horses--both saying they would prefer to walk; +Cadwallader adding, in his favourite sailor phrase, that he wished to +"kick the knots out of his legs"--a remark but obscurely comprehensible +to Don Gregorio. + +For some time after leaving the Spaniard's house, not a word passes +between them. Each is occupied with his own thoughts, the sacredness of +which keeps him silent; absorbed in reflections, about that tender, but +painful parting, speculating on what may be before them in the far +uncertain future. + +For a time, nought intrudes upon their reverie, to disturb its natural +course. The sough of the tidal surf breaking upon the beach, the +occasional cry of a soaring sea-bird, or the more continuous and +melancholy note of the chuck-will's-widow, do not attract their +attention. They are sounds in consonance with their thoughts, still a +little sad. + +As they draw nearer to the city, see its flashing lights, and hear its +hum of voices, other and less doleful ideas come uppermost, leading to +conversation. Crozier commences it: + +"Well, Will, old fellow, we've made a day of it!" + +"That we have--a rousing, jolly day. I don't think I ever enjoyed one +more in my life." + +"Only for its drawbacks." + +"You mean our affair with those fellows? Why, that was the best part of +it--so far as fun. To see the one in the sky-blue wrap, after I'd +dirked his horse, go off like a ship in a gale, with nobody at the helm! +By Jove! it was equal to old Billy Button in the circus. And then the +other, you bundled over in the road, as he got up looking like a dog +just out of a dust-bin! Oh! 'twas delicious! The best shore adventure +I've had since leaving home--something to talk about when we get aboard +the ship." + +"Ay, and something to do besides talking. We've got a little writing to +do; at least I have--a bit of a letter to this swaggerer, Mr Francisco +de Lara." + +"But, surely, you don't intend challenging him--after what's happened?" + +"Surely I do. Though, to say the truth, I've no great stomach for it, +seeing the sort he is. It's _infra dig_ having to fight one's inferior, +though it be with sword or pistol. It feels like getting into a row +with roughs in some slum of a seaport." + +"You're right there; and as to calling the fellow out, I'd do nothing of +the kind, Ned. He's a bad lot; so is the other. Blackguards both, as +their behaviour has shown them. They don't deserve to be treated as +gentlemen." + +"But we're in California, Will; where the code of the duello takes in +such as they. Here even thieves and cut-throats talk about protecting +their honour, as they term it; ay, and often act up to their talk. I've +been told of a duel that took place not long since between two +professional gamblers, in which one of them was shot dead in his tracks. +And only the other day a judge was called out by a man he had tried, +and convicted, of some misdemeanour! Well, the judge not only went, but +actually killed the cad who'd stood before him as a criminal! All that +seems very absurd, but so it is. And if this scarlet-cloaked cavalier +don't show the white-feather, and back out, I'll either have to kill, or +cripple him; though like as not he may do one or the other for me." + +"But don't you think, Ned, you've had enough out of him?" + +"In what way?" + +"Why, in the way of _revanche_. For my part, I should decidedly say you +had by far the best of it. After your first encounter in the morning, I +thought differently; and would have so counselled you. Then the insult +offered you remained unpunished. The other has put a different face on +the affair; and now that he's got more than he gave, I think you should +rest satisfied, and let things stand as they are--if he do. Certainly, +after that knock and tumble, it's his place to sing out." + +"There's something in what you say, Will. And now, on reflection, I'm +not so sure that I'll take further trouble about the fellow, unless he +insist on it; which he may not, seeing he's unquestionably base coin--as +you say, a blackguard. He appears a sort of Californian bravo; and if +we hadn't secured his pistol, I suppose he'd have done some shooting +with it. Well, we'll see whether he comes to reclaim it. If he don't, +I shall have to send it to him. Otherwise, he may have us up before one +of these duelling justices on a charge of robbing him!" + +"Ha, ha, ha! That would be a rare joke; an appropriate ending to our +day's fun." + +"Quite the contrary. It might be serious, if it should reach the ears +of Bracebridge. The old disciplinarian would never believe but that +we'd been in the wrong--taken the fellow's pistol from him for a lark, +or something of that sort. True, we could have the thing explained, +both to the San Francisco magistrate, and the frigate's captain; but not +without an exposure of names and circumstances. That, though it might +be proper enough, would be anything but a pleasant finale to our day's +fun, as you call it." + +"Well, I know what will," rejoins Cadwallader, after listening patiently +to his comrade's explanatory speech, "and that's a glass of something +good to drink. Those sweet Spanish wines of Don Gregorio have made me +thirsty as a fish. Besides, parting with dear Inez has got my heart +down, and I need something to stir it up again." + +"All right, my hearty!" exclaims Crozier; for the jest's sake, talking +sailor-slang--"I'm with you in that way. For this day at least we've +had enough of war, and, shall I say, women?" + +"No--no!" protests Cadwallader; "that would be an ungallant speech, +after what's passed. We could never have enough of them--at least, not +I." + +"Why, Will, we've grown wonderfully sentimental, and in such a short +time! Well, let's drop the subject of woman, and end our day with the +third of three w's--wine." + +"Agreed!" responds the young Welshman. "But, for my part, I'd prefer +ending it with a different tipple, which has also a w for its initial +letter--that's whisky. If we could only get a glass of good Scotch or +Irish malt in this mushroom city, it would make a new man of me--which +just now I need making. As I tell you, Ned, my heart's down--dead down +to the heels of my boots. I can't say why, but there it is; and there I +suppose, it'll stay, unless Dutch courage come to the rescue." + +"Well, you'll soon have an opportunity of getting that. As you see, we +are in the suburbs of this grand city, partly constructed of canvas; +where, though food may be scarce, and raiment scanty, there's liquor in +abundance. In the _Parker House_, which is, I believe, its best hotel, +we'll be sure of finding almost every beverage brewed upon the earth-- +among them your favourite whisky, and mine--`Bass's Bitter.'" + +"Again the Spanish saw, `_Cada uno a su gusto_,' as just now my +sweetheart said, after I had kissed the dear girl six times in +succession. But let us step out." + +"Don't be in such hot haste. You forget we've something to do; which +must be done first--before everything else." + +"What?" + +"Look up Harry Blew; find him, if we can; and coax him to take service +in this Chilian ship." + +"He won't require much coaxing, once you say the word. The old salt is +anything but ungrateful. Indeed, his regard for you, ever since you +saved him from that shark, is more like real gratitude than anything I +ever saw. He fairly worships you, Ned. He told me the day before he +left the _Crusader_, that parting with you was the only thing which +greatly grieved him. I saw the tears trickling down his cheeks, as you +shook hands with him over the rail. Even then, if you'd said stay, I +believe he'd have turned back into his old berth." + +"I didn't, because I wished him to do better. You know he'd have a +splendid chance here in California--to get rich by gold-digging, which +no doubt he might, like a great many other humble sailors as himself. +But now, this other chance has turned up in his favour, which I should +say is surer. Don Gregorio has told us he can get from the Chilian +captain almost any pay he may please to ask; besides, a fair likelihood +of being made his first mate. That would suit Harry to a hair; in my +opinion, answering his purpose far better than any gold-washing +speculation. Though a man of first rating aboard ship, he's a mere +child when ashore; and would be no more able to protect himself against +the land-sharks of San Francisco, than he was to get out of the way of +that sea-skimmer at Guaymas. Even if he should succeed in growing rich +up the Sacramento River, I'd lay large odds, he'd be back here in port, +and poor as ever, within a week. We must save him from that if we can. +His natural element is the ocean. He has spent the greater part of his +life on it, and here's a fine opportunity for him to return to, and stay +upon it. That for life, if he likes, with better prospects than he +could ever have had on board a man-o'-war. The question is, how we +shall be able to find him in this rookery of a place. Did he say +anything, when you saw him, about where he was sojourning!" + +"By Jove! he just did. Now, I recall our conversation, I remember him +telling me that he was staying at a sort of a boarding-house, or +restaurant, called the `Sailor's Home,' though he made no mention of the +street. But, if I mistake not, I know the place, and can steer pretty +straight for it." + +"Straight or crooked, let's set head for it at once. We've plenty of +time, if that were all. I told the coxswain not to come for us till +well after eleven. I want to see something of this queer Californian +life, of which I haven't had much experience yet." + +"The same with myself." + +"Well, we may never again get such a chance. Indeed, it's not likely +we'll be allowed another night ashore, before the _Crusader_ sails. +Therefore, let us make hay while the sun shines, or, to speak less +figuratively, a little merriment by the light of the moon. We've been +either savage, or sentimental, all the day, and need changing our tune." + +"You're right about that; but the music is not likely to be made by +moonlight--not much of it. See those great clouds rolling up yonder! +They'll be all over the sky in ten minutes' time, making it black as a +pot of pitch." + +"No matter; for what we want, gas-light will serve as well; and there's +plenty of that in San Francisco. Now for Harry Blew. After him, whisky +punches at the _Parker_." + +"And after that?" + +"A _Hell_, if you feel that way inclined." + +"Surely, Ned, you don't want to go gambling!" + +"I want to see life in San Francisco, as I've said; and, as you know, +gambling's an important part of it. Yes; I wish to inspect the +elephant, and I don't mind making an attempt to draw the teeth of the +tiger. _Allons_! or, as I should say, in the softer language of +Andalusia, _Nos vamos_!" + +Thus jocosely terminating the conversation, the young officers continue +on at increased speed, and are soon threading the streets of San +Francisco in search of the "Sailor's Home." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. + +A TAR OF THE OLDEN TYPE. + +Harry Blew is a tar of the true man-o'-war type; this of the time when +sailors were sailors, and ships were oak, not iron. Such ships are +scarce now; but scarcer still the skilled men who handled their ropes, +and kept everything taut and trim--in short, the true tars. + +Than Harry, a finer specimen of the foremast-man never reefed topsail, +or took his glass of grog according to allowance. Of dark complexion +naturally, exposure to sun, sea, and storm has deepened it, till his +cheeks and throat are almost copper-coloured; somewhat lighter in tint +upon Sundays, after they have had their hebdomadal shave. His face is +round, with features fairly regular, and of cheerful cast, their +cheerfulness heightened by the sparkle of keen grey eyes, and two rows +of sound white teeth, frequently, if not continuously shown in smile. A +thick shock of curling brown hair, with a well-greased ringlet drooping +down over each eyebrow, supports a round-rimmed, blue-ribboned hat, well +aback on his head. His shaven chin is pointed and prominent, with a +dimple below the lip; while the beardless jaws curve smoothly down to a +well-shaped neck, symmetrically set upon broad shoulders, that give +token of strength almost herculean. Notwithstanding an amplitude of +shirt-collar, which falls back full seven inches, touching the +shoulder-tips, the throat and a portion of the expansive chest are +habitually exposed to view; while on the sun-browned skin of the latter +may be seen a tattooed anchor. By its side, but not so openly +exhibited, is the figure of a damsel done in dark blue--no doubt a +souvenir, if not the exact similitude, of a sweetheart--some Poll of +past time, or perhaps far-off port. + +But there is a doubt whether Harry's heart has been true to her. +Indeed, a suspicion of its having been false cannot fail to strike any +one seeing him with his shirt-sleeves rolled up, since upon the flat of +his right fore-arm is the image of another damsel, done more recently, +in lighter blue, while on the left is a Cupid holding an unbent bow, and +hovering above a pair of hearts, which his arrow has just pierced, +impaling them through and through! + +All those amorous emblems would seem to argue our true tar inconstant as +the wind, with which he has so oft to contend. But no, nothing of the +kind. Those well acquainted with him and his history can vouch for it, +that he has never had a sweetheart save one--she represented in that +limning of light blue; and to her he has been true as steel, up to the +hour of her death, which occurred just as she was about to become Mrs +Blew. + +And that sad event has kept him a bachelor up to the present hour of his +life. For the girl on his breast in dark blue is a merely mythical +personage, though indelibly stained into his skin by a needle's point +and a pinch of gunpowder--done by one of his man-o'-war shipmates while +he was still only a sailor-lad. + +He is now forty years of age, nearly thirty of which he has passed upon +the sea, being off it only in short spells while his ship lay in port. +And he has seen service on several vessels--corvettes, frigates, double +and treble deckers--all men-of-war, in which he has thrice +circumnavigated the globe. + +For all, he is yet hale, hearty, and in the perfect plenitude of his +strength; only with a slight stoop in the shoulders, as if caught from +continually swarming up shrouds, or leaning over the yard while stowing +sails. This gives him the appearance of being shorter than he really +is: for when straightened up, with back well braced, he stands six feet +in his stockings. And his limbs show symmetrical proportion. His duck +trousers, fitting tightly over the hips, display a pair of limbs supple +and muscular, with thighs that seem all sinew from skin to bone. + +In spite of his sterling qualities as a seaman, and noble character as a +man, Harry has never risen to any rank in the service. With him has it +been literally true, "Once a sailor, still a sailor;" and though long +ago rated an A.B. of the first order, above this he has not ascended a +single step. Were he to complain, which he rarely ever does, he would +in all probability say, that his non-promotion has been due to +independence of spirit, or, shaping it in his own phraseology, owing to +his not having "bootlicked the swabs above him." And there is some +truth in this, though another reason might be assigned by those disposed +to speak slightingly of him; this, that although liking salt water, he +has a decided antipathy to that which is fresh, unless when taken with +an admixture of rum. Then he is too fond of it. But it is his only +fault, barring which, a better man than Harry Blew--and, when sober, a +steadier--never trod the deck of ship. + +As already said, he has trod many, the latest being that of the +_Crusader_, in which vessel he has spent five years of his life. His +engagement terminating almost on the very day she dropt anchor before +San Francisco, he has been set free, either to stay in the ship, by +entering his name upon her books for a fresh period of service, or step +out of her, and go cruising on his own account, whithersoever he may +wish. + +Taking into consideration the state of things in San Francisco just at +this time, it is not strange his having elected to leave the ship. It +would be stranger if he had even hesitated about it, though this he had +indeed done, for some days lingering with mind only half made up. But +the golden lure proved at length too temptingly attractive, and, +yielding to it, he took a last leave of his old shipmates, was rowed +ashore, and has since been sojourning at the "Sailor's Home"--for he is +still there, as Cadwallader rightly surmised--there in a very miserable +state of mind, not knowing how his wretchedness will be relieved. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. + +THE SAILOR'S HOME. + +There is a "Sailor's Home," or "Snug Harbour" tavern in every seaport +town, often anything but home, or harbour, in a pleasant sense. This of +San Francisco, 1849, is a hostelry, half eating-house, half +drinking-saloon, of somewhat unpretentious appearance--being a rough, +weather-boarded building, without planing, or paint, and only two +storeys in height. But if low in stature, it is high enough in its +charges, as Harry Blew has learnt long since; these being out of all +proportion to the outside appearance of the place, or its interior +accommodation; though quite in keeping with the prices of other like +houses of entertainment in the Pacific seaport. + +Harry's original intention was to make only a short stay at the +"Sailor's Home"--just long enough to put him through a bit of a spree; +for which twelve months' pay, received from the frigate's purser at +parting, had amply provided him. Then he would start off for the +Feather River, or some other tributary stream of the Sacramento, where +gold was being gathered, or dug for. + +The first part of this programme he has already carried out, with +something besides; that something being the complete expenditure of all +his pay--every shilling he received from the ship, and in an incredibly +short space of time. He had been scarcely six days ashore when he +discovers his cash exchequer quite cleared out. As for credit, there is +no such thing in San Francisco. A shop parcel sent home always comes +conspicuously marked C.O.D.--"Cash on Delivery." + +Since landing, he has not very carefully kept his dead-reckoning, and is +at first somewhat surprised to find himself so far out in it. He has +plunged his hands into his pockets without encountering coin. He +searches in his sea-chest and every other receptacle where he has been +accustomed to carry, with similar disappointing result. What can have +become of his twelve months' wage, drawn on the day he left the +_Crusader_? It has all disappeared! + +No wonder he is unable to account for its disappearance; for ever since +that day he has been anything but himself--in short, has given way to +dissipation of longer continuance than ever before in his life. It has +lasted six days, with most part of six nights, at the end of which time +he has only pulled up for want of the wherewith to continue it--credit +being denied him at the very counter over which he has passed all his +pay. + +Impecuniosity is an unpleasant predicament in any country, and at all +times; but in the San Francisco of 1849 it was a positive danger--where +six dollars were demanded, and obtained, for the most meagre of meals; +the same for sleeping on a blanketless bed, in a chilly night, within a +rough weather-boarded room, or under the yet thinner shelter of a canvas +tent. It was a boon to be allowed to lie on the lee-side of a +wooden-walled stable; but cost money for the privilege of sleeping in a +stall, with straw litter for couch, and the radiating heat from the +horses in lieu of coverlet. + +In the necessity of seeking some such indifferent accommodation, Harry +Blew finds himself, on the seventh night after having received his +discharge from the _Crusader_. And as he has now got somewhat sobered, +with brain clear enough to think, it occurs to him that the time is come +for carrying out the second part of his programme--that is, going on to +the gold-diggings. + +But how to get off, and get there? These are separate questions, to +neither of which can he give a satisfactory answer. Passage to +Sacramento, by steamer, costs over a hundred dollars, and still more by +stage-coach. He has not a shilling--not a red cent; and his sea-kit +sold would not realise a sum sufficient to pay his fare, even if it (the +kit) were free. But it is not. On the contrary, embargoed, "quodded," +by the keeper of the "Sailor's Home," against a couple of days' unpaid +board and lodging--with sundry imbibings across the counter, scored on +the slate. + +The discharged man-o'-war's man sees himself in a nasty dilemma--all the +more from its having a double horn. He can neither go to the +gold-diggings, nor stay in the "Sailor's Home." Comparatively cheap as +may be this humble hostelry, it is yet dear enough to demand ten dollars +a day for indifferent bed and board. Both have been thought bad enough +by Harry Blew, even though only a foremast-man. But he is threatened +with a still worse condition of things. Inappropriate the title +bestowed on his house, for the owner of the "Home" has not the slightest +hospitality in his heart. He has discovered that his English guest is +"dead broke," drawing his deductions from the two days' board, and as +many nights' bed, remaining unpaid. + +There is a notice conspicuously posted above the bar that "scores must +be settled daily." And Harry having disregarded this, has received +private, but positive, notice of another kind; to the effect that he is +forthwith to discontinue taking a seat at the _table-d'hote_, as also to +surrender up his share of the bed he has been occupying, for he has not +had a complete couch to himself. At this the discharged man-o'-war's +man has shown no anger, nor does he feel in any way affronted. He has +that correct sense common to sailors, with most others trained by travel +in strange lands, and knows that when cash is not forthcoming, credit +cannot be expected. In California, as elsewhere, such is the universal +and rigorous custom, to which man must resign himself. The English +sailor is only a bit sorry to think he has expended his cash so freely; +a little repentant at having done it so foolishly; and, on the whole, a +good deal downhearted. + +But there is a silver lining to the cloud. The _Crusader_ is still in +port, and not expected to sail for some days. He may once more place +his name upon the frigate's books, and rejoin her. He knows he will not +only be received back by her commander, but welcomed by all his old +officers and shipmates. A word spoken to the first boat coming ashore, +and all will be well. Shall he speak such word? That has become the +question. For in this, as every other step in life, there is a _pro_ +and _contra_. Humiliating the thought of going back to service on the +ship, after taking leave of everybody aboard; returning to a dingy +forecastle hard, and the handling of tarry ropes, after the bright +dreams he had been indulging in; to forego the gathering of gold-dust, +and the exchanging it for doubloons or dollars; in short, turning his +back upon fortune--the prospect of a life competence, perhaps plenitude +of wealth, with its resulting ease and idleness--and once more facing +stormy seas, with only hard knocks and laborious work in store for him +the remainder of his life! + +While the sovereigns were still clinking in his pockets, this was the +dark side of the picture--towards Sacramento, the bright one. Now that +the pockets are empty, everything seems changed, and the golden sheen +lies on the side of the ship. + +Still the sailor hesitates how to decide. Despite the pressure upon +him, he ponders and reflects; as he does so, plunging his hands into his +pockets, apparently searching for coin. It is merely mechanical, for he +knows he has not a shilling. + +While thus occupied, he is seated in the little sanded bar-room of the +"Home" alone with the bar-keeper; the latter eyeing him with anything +but a sympathetic air. For the book is before him, showing that +indebtedness for bed and board--to say nothing of the unsettled +bar-score--and the record makes a bar-sinister between them. Another +drink could not be added now, even though but a bottle of ginger-beer. +The door of credit is closed, and only cash could procure an extension +of that hospitality hitherto scant enough. + +The sailor thinks. Must he surrender? Give up his dreams of fingering +yellow gold, and return to clutching black shrouds? A glance at the +grim, unrelaxed, and unrelenting visage of the bar-keeper decides him. + +His decision is expressed in characteristic speech, not addressed to the +drink-dispenser, nor aloud, but in low, sad soliloquy: + +"Wi' me, I see, the old sayin's to stan' good--`Once a sailor, still a +sailor.' Harry Blew, there be no help for't, ye maun steer back for the +_Crusader_!" + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. + +OPPORTUNE VISITORS. + +Having resolved upon returning to his ship--and that very night, if he +can but get a boat--Harry Blew is about to sally forth into the street, +when his egress is unexpectedly prevented. Not by the landlord of the +"Sailor's Home," nor his representative behind the bar. These would +only be too glad to get rid of a guest with two days' reckoning in +arrear. For they have surreptitiously inspected his sea-chest, and +found it to contain a full suit of "Sunday go-ashores," with other +effects, which they deemed sufficient collateral security for the debt. +And as it has been already hypothecated for this, both Boniface and +bar-keeper would rather rejoice to see their sailor-guest clear out of +the "Home" for good, leaving the chest behind him. On this condition +they would be willing to wipe out the debt, both boarding and bar-score. +Harry has no thought of thus parting with his kit. Now that he has +made up his mind to return to the _Crusader_, a better prospect is +opened up to him. He has hopes that on his making appearance aboard, +and again entering his name on the frigate's books, the purser will +advance him a sum sufficient to release his retained chattels. Or, he +can in all likelihood collect the money among his old messmates. Not +for this reason is he so anxious to reach the ship that night, but +because he has no other chance of having any place to sleep in--save the +street. The tavern-keeper has notified him, in plain terms, that he +must peremptorily leave; and he is about to act upon the notification, +and take departure, when prevented, as already said. + +What now hinders him from going out of the "Home" is a man coming into +it; or rather two--since two shadows have suddenly darkened the door, +and are projected across the sanded floor of the bar-room. Not like +shadows in the eyes of Harry Blew, but streaks of brightest sunlight! +For in the individuals entering he recognises two of his officers; one +of them his best friend, who saved his life. Crozier and Cadwallader +have discovered him. + +At sight of them the discharged sailor salutes promptly, and with as +much respect as if all were on the quarterdeck of the _Crusader_. But +with much more demonstration; for their well-timed appearance draws from +him an exclamation of joy. Jerking off his straw hat, and giving a +twitch to one of his brow-locks, he bobs his head several times in +succession, with a simultaneous back-scrape of his foot upon the floor. + +His obeisance ended, he stands silently awaiting whatever communication +the young officers have to make. He is already aware that their +business is with himself: for the bar-room is but dimly lit, and +Crozier, while crossing its threshold, not at once recognising him, had +called out: + +"Is there a sailor staying here, by name Harry Blew!" + +"Ay, ay, sir!" was the prompt response, the sailor himself giving it, +along with the salutation described. + +During the short interval of silence that succeeds, Harry's heart can be +distinctly heard beating. Lately depressed--"Down in the dumps," as he +himself would word it--it is now up in his throat. The sight of his +patron, the saver of his life, is like having it saved a second time. +Perhaps they have come to ask him to rejoin the ship? If so, 'tis the +very thing he was thinking of. He will not anticipate, but waits for +them to declare their errand. + +"Well, Harry, old boy," says Crozier, after warmly shaking the sailor's +hand, "I'm right glad to find you here. I was afraid you'd gone off to +the diggings." + +"True, Master Ed'ard; I did intend standin' on that tack, but ha'n't +been able to get under way, for want o' a wind." + +"Want of a wind? I don't quite understand you." + +"Why, you see, sir, I've been a little bit spreeish since comin' ashore, +and my locker's got low--more'n that, it's total cleared out. Though I +suppose there be plenty of gold in them diggin's, it takes gold to get +there; and as I ha'n't any, I'm laid up here like an old hulk foul o' a +mud bank. That's just how it be, gen'lemen." + +"In which case, perhaps you mightn't feel indisposed to go to sea +again?" + +"Just the thing I war thinkin' o', Master Ed'ard. I'd a'most made up my +mind to it, sir, an' war 'bout startin' to try get aboard the old +_Crusader_, and askin' your honour to ha' my name entered on her books +again. I'm willin' to join for a fresh tarm, if they'll take me." + +"They'd take, and be glad to get you, Harry; you may be sure of that. +Such a skilled sailor need never be without a ship, where there's a +British man-of-war within hailing distance. But we don't want you to +join the _Crusader_." + +"How is that, sir?" + +"Because we can help you to something a little better. At least, it +will be more to your advantage in a pecuniary sense. You wouldn't mind +shipping in a merchant-vessel, with wages three or four times as much as +you can get in a man-of-war? How would you like that, Harry?" + +"I'd like it amazin'ly, sir. And for the matter o' being a merchanter, +that's neither here nor there, so long's _you_ recommend it. I'll go as +cook, if you tell me to." + +"No, no, Harry, not that," laughingly replies the young officer. "That +would never do. I should pity those who had to eat the dishes you'd +dress for them. Besides, I should be sorry to see you stewing your +strength away in front of a galley-fire. You must do better than that; +and it chances I'm authorised to offer you something better. It's a +berth on board a trading-ship, and one with some special advantages. +She's a Chilian vessel, and her captain is, I believe, either Chilian or +Spanish. That won't make any difference to you?" + +"Not a doit, sir. I don't care what the ship's colours be, nor what +country her skipper, so long's he allows good wages an' plenty o' grub." + +"And plenty of grog too, Harry?" + +"Ay, ay, sir. I confess to a weakness for that--leastways the reg'lar +three times a day." + +"No doubt you'll get it, as often as you've a mind. But, Harry, I have +a word to say about that. Besides my interest in your own welfare, I've +another and more selfish one in this Chilian ship. So has Mr +Cadwallader. We both want you to be on your best behaviour during the +trip you're to take in her. On board will be two lady passengers, as +far as Panama; for the ship is bound thither, and for ports beyond--I +believe as far as Valparaiso. But the ladies are to land at Panama; +and, so long as they're with you, you must do everything in your power +to make things agreeable for them. If they should ever be in any +danger--from storm, shipwreck, or otherwise--you'll stand by them?" + +"Yes, Harry," adds Cadwallader, "you'll do that, won't you?" + +"Lor', your honours!" exclaims the sailor, showing surprise. "Sure ye +needn't put sich a questin to me--a British man-o'-war's man? I'd do +that much, anyhow, out o' sheer starn sense o' duty. But when it comes +to takin' care o' two ladies--to say nothin' about theer bein' so young, +and so beautiful--" + +"Avast, Harry! How do you know they are either one or the other?" asks +Crozier, surprised; Cadwallader repeating the question. + +"Lor' love ye, masters! Do ye think a common sailor han't got eyes in +his head, for anythin' but ropes an' tar? You forget I war o' the +boat's crew as rowed two sweet creeturs on board the _Crusader_, the +night o' the grand dancin'; and arterward took the same ashore, along +wi' two young gen'lemen, as went to see 'em home. Sure, sirs, actin' +cox on that occasion, I couldn't help hearin' some o' the speeches as +passed in the starn-sheets--tho' they wur spoken in the ears of the +senoritas, soft as the breeze that fanned their fair cheeks, an' brought +the colour out on 'em red as Ribston pippins." + +"Avast again, you rascal! So you've been eavesdropping, have you? I +quite forgot you understood Spanish." + +"Only a trifle, Master Ed'ard." + +"Too much for that occasion." + +"Ah! well, your honour, it may stand me in good stead now--aboard the +ship you speak o'." + +"Well, Harry, I'm not going to scold you, seeing that you couldn't help +hearing what you did. And now, I may as well tell you that the young +ladies you saw that night in the boat _are_ the same who are to be the +passengers in the Chilian ship. You'll take good care of them, I know." + +"That you may depend on, sir. Any one as touches hair o' their heads, +to do 'em an injury, 'll have to tear the whole o' his off the head o' +Harry Blew. I'll see 'em safe to Panama, or never show myself there. I +promise that; an' I think both your honours 'll take the word of a +British man-o'-war's man." + +"That's enough--perfectly satisfactory! Now to give you the necessary +directions about joining this ship. She's lying at anchor somewhere +about in the bay. I didn't think of getting her name, but you'll find +her easily enough. An' you needn't go in search of her till you've seen +the gentleman whose name is upon this card. You see: `Don Tomas +Silvestre,' a ship-agent. His office is down in one of the streets by +the strand. Report yourself to him first thing in the morning. In all +likelihood he'll engage you on sight, make out your papers, and give you +full directions for getting aboard the ship. It appears she's short of +hands; indeed, even without a single sailor. _And_, by the way, Harry, +if you apply soon enough, it's good as certain you'll be made mate-- +first at that; all the more from your being able to speak Spanish. It's +too late for you to do anything about it to-night; but don't oversleep +yourself. Be at the ship-agent's to-morrow betimes." + +"Ye can trust me for that, sir. I'll show my figurehead there first +thing in the mornin'. No fears o' any one getting theer afore me, if +they've not gone a'ready." + +"I think no one will be before you--I hope not. Send us word how you +have succeeded, as the _Crusader_ will likely be in port long enough for +us to hear from you. Still, as she may sail on short notice, we may not +see you again. Remember, then, what we've said about the senoritas. We +shall rely upon your fidelity." + +"An' well may ye, masters. You can both trust your lives to Harry Blew, +an' those of them as is dear to you." + +"All right, old boy!" exclaims Crozier, satisfied. "We must now part; +but let's hope we'll meet again. When you get back to England you know +where to find me. So, good-bye! Give us a grip of your honest fist, +and God bless you!" + +Saying this, he grasps the horny hand of the sailor, and warmly presses +it. The pressure is returned by a squeeze that gives assurance of more +than ordinary friendship. It is the grip of true gratitude; and the +look which accompanies it tells of a devoted friendship, bordering on +adoration. + +Cadwallader also exchanges a like parting salutation; after which, the +young officers start off, to continue their cruise through the streets +of "Frisko." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. + +AN INHOSPITABLE HOSTELRY. + +Harry Blew stands in the doorway of the "Sailor's Home," watching the +two gentlemen as they walk away, his eyes glowing with gratitude and +sparkling with joy. And no wonder, considering the change in his +situation brought about by their influence. Ten minutes before, his +spirits were at the lowest and darkest. But the prospect of treble, or +quadruple pay on board a snug ship, though it be a trading-vessel, with +the additional chance of being mate instead of foremast-man, has given +him a fillip, not only restoring them to their ordinary condition of +cheeriness, but raising them to the highest exaltation. + +The only damper is regret at parting with the fine young fellow who has +done so much for him. But he has passed through that already, when +separating from his ship, and can now better bear it under the +reflection that, though apart from his patron, he will have an +opportunity of doing something to show his gratitude. He knows how much +Crozier is interested in the wellbeing of Carmen Montijo--for Harry has +been made acquainted with her name, as also that of Inez Alvarez--and to +be entrusted with a sort of guardianship over these young ladies is a +proud thought to the ex-man-o'-war's man--a fine feather in his cap. + +To carry out the confidence thus reposed in him will be a labour of +love; and he vows in his heart it shall be done, if need be, at the risk +of life. + +Indeed, the interview just ended has made a new man of him in more +senses than one; for upon the spot he registers a mental resolve to give +up dram-drinking for ever, or at all events till he has seen his +charge--the two Spanish senoritas--safe landed at Panama, and the +Chilian ship snug in the harbour of Valparaiso. After that, he is less +sure that he may not again go upon a spree, and possibly a big one. + +Heaving a sigh as the English officers pass out of sight, he turns back +into the bar-room. It is no longer a question of his going aboard the +_Crusader_. He must remain ashore, to be up betimes in the morning, so +that he may be early at the office of the ship-agent. + +And now, again, a shadow, though only a slight one, comes over his +countenance. He has still before him the undetermined question, where +he is to sleep. Notwithstanding his fine prospects for the future, the +present is still unchanged, and yet unprovided for. + +Unfortunately, he did not think of this while the officers were with +him, else a word would have made all well. Either of them, he doubted +not, would have relieved his necessities had they been but told of them. +Too late now; they are gone out of sight, out of hail, and whether he +cannot tell or guess; and to attempt searching for them in such crowded +streets would be only a waste of time. + +While thus ruefully reflecting, he is confronted by the bar-keeper, +whose usually grave countenance is now beset with smiles. The fellow +has got it into his head that his sailor-guest is no longer impecunious. +The navy gentlemen just gone have no doubt been to engage him for their +ship, and perhaps made him an advance of wages. + +"Well, my salt," says he, in a tone of jocular familiarity, "I guess +you've got the shiners now, an' kin settle up your score?" + +"No, indeed, sir," answers Harry, more than ever taken aback; "I'm sorry +to say I ha'n't." + +"You hain't! Then what hev them gold-buttoned fellers been palaverin' +ye about?" + +"Not about money, master. Them's two o' the officers belongin' to my +old ship--the British frigate _Crusader_. An' fine young fellows they +be too." + +"Much good their finikin fineness seems to hev done you! So they hain't +gin you nuthin' better than their talk, hev they? Nuthin' besides?" + +"Nothing besides," rejoins Blew, restraining his temper, a little +touched by the bar-keeper's inquisitiveness, as also his impertinent +manner. + +"Nuthin' but fine words, eh? Well, thar's plenty o' them 'bout hyar, +but they won't butter no parsnips; and let me tell you, my sailor-man, +they won't pay your board bill." + +"I know that," returns the other, still keeping his temper. "But I hope +to have money soon." + +"Oh! that's been your story for the last two days; but it won't +bamboozle me any longer. You get no more credit here." + +"Can't I have supper, and bed for another night?" + +"No; that you can't--not so much as a shake-down." + +"I'll pay for them first thing in the mornin'." + +"You'll pay for 'em this night--now, if you calc'late to get 'em. An' +if you've no cash, tain't any use talkin'. What d'ye think we keep a +tavern for? 'Twould soon be to let--bar, beds, and all--if we'd only +such customers as you. So, the sooner you slope, the better the +landlord 'll like it. He's jest gin me orders to tell ye to clar out." + +"It's gallows hard, master," says Harry, heaving a sigh; "the more so, +as I've got the promise o' a good berth 'board a ship that's down in the +harbour. The gentlemen you seed have just been to tell me about it." + +"Then why didn't they give you the money to clar your kit?" + +"They'd have done that--no doubt of it--if I'd only thought o' askin' +them. I forgot all about it." + +"Ah, that's all very fine--a likely tale; but I don't believe a word of +it. If they cared to have you in their ship, they'd have given you the +wherewithal to git there. But, come! it's no use shilly-shallyin' any +longer. The landlord won't like it. He's gin his orders sharp: Pay or +go." + +"Well, I suppose I must go." + +"You must; an', as I have already said, the sooner you're off the +better." + +After delivering this stern ultimatum, the bar-keeper jauntily returns +behind his bar, to look more blandly on two guests who have presented +themselves at it, called for "brandy smashes," and tossed down a couple +of dollars to pay for them. + +Harry Blew turns towards the door; and, without saying another word, +steps out of the room. + +Once on the street, he does not stop or stand hesitating. The +hospitality of the so-called "home" has proved a sorry sham; and, +indignant at the shabby treatment received, he is but too glad to get +away from the place. All his life used to snug quarters in a fine +ship's forecastle, with everything found for him, he has never before +experienced the pang of having no place to lay his head. He not only +feels it now, in all its unpleasantness, but fancies the passers-by can +tell all about the humiliating position he is placed in. + +Haunted by this fancy--urged on by it--he quickens his steps; nor stays +them till out of sight of the "Sailor's Home," out of the street in +which the detestable tavern stands. He even dislikes the idea of having +to go back for his chest; which, however, he must some time do. + +Meanwhile what is to become of him for the remainder of that night? +Where is he to obtain supper, and a bed? About the latter he cares the +least; and having had no dinner and but a spare breakfast he is hungry-- +half-famished--and could eat a pound or two of the saltest and toughest +junk ever drawn out of a ship's cask. + +In this unhappy frame of body as of mind he strays on along the street. +There is no lack of food before his eyes, almost within reach of his +hand; but only to tantalise, and still further whet the edge of his +appetite. Eating-houses are open all around him; and under their +blazing gas-jets he can see steaming dishes, and savoury joints, in the +act of being set upon tables surrounded by guests seeming hungry as +himself, but otherwise better off. He, too, might enter there without +fear of being challenged as an intruder; for among the men inside are +many in coarse garb, some of them not so respectably apparelled as +himself. But what would be the use of his going into a restaurant +without even a penny in his pockets? He could only gaze at dishes he +may not eat, and dare not call for. He remembers his late discomfiture +too keenly to risk having it repeated. + +Thus reflecting, he turns his back upon the tables so temptingly spread, +and keeps on along the street. + +Again the double question recurs: Where is he to get supper, and where +sleep? + +And again he regrets not having given his confidence to the young +gentlemen, and told them of the "fix" he was in. Either would have +relieved him on the instant, without a word. But it is too late now to +think of it, or hope seeing them in the streets. By this time, in all +likelihood, they have started back to their ship. + +How he wishes himself aboard the _Crusader_! How happy he would feel in +her forecastle, among his old shipmates! It cannot be; and therefore it +is idle to ponder upon it. + +What on earth is he to do? + +A thought strikes him. + +It is of the ship-agent whose card Crozier left with him, and which he +has thrust into his coat-pocket. He draws the bit of pasteboard out, +and holds it up to a street-lamp, to make himself acquainted with the +ship-agent's address. The name he remembers, and needs not that. + +Though but a common sailor, Harry is not altogether illiterate. The +seaport town where he first saw the light had a public school for the +poorer people, in which he was taught to read and write. By the former +of these elementary branches--supplemented by a smattering of Spanish, +picked up in South American ports--he is enabled to decipher the writing +upon the card--for it is in writing--and so gets the correct address, +both the street and number. + +Having returned it to his pocket, he buttons up his dreadnought; and, +taking a fresh hitch at his duck trousers, starts off again--this time +with fixed intent: to find Don Tomas Silvestre. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. + +THE "HELL" EL DORADO. + +A Monte Bank in the city of San Francisco, in the establishment y-cleped +"El Dorado"--partly drinking-house, for the rest devoted to gambling on +the grandest scale. The two are carried on simultaneously, and in a +large oblong saloon. The portion of it devoted to Bacchus is at the end +farthest from the entrance-door; where the shrine of the jolly god is +represented by a liquor-bar extending from side to side, and backed by +an array of shining bottles, glittering glasses, and sparkling +decanters; his "worship" administered by half-a-dozen "bartenders," +resplendent in white shirts with wrist ruffles, and big diamond +breast-pins--real, not paste! + +The altar of Fortuna is altogether of a different shape and pattern, +occupying more space. It is not compact, but extended over the floor, +in the form of five tables, large as if for billiards; though not one of +them is of this kind. Billiards would be too slow a game for the +frequenters of "El Dorado." These could not patiently wait for the +scoring of fifty points, even though the stake were a thousand dollars. +"No, no! _Monte_ for me!" would be the word of every one of them; or a +few might say "_Faro_." And of the five tables in the saloon, four are +for the former game, the fifth furnished for the latter; though there is +but little apparent difference in the furniture of the two; both having +a simple cover of green baize, or broadcloth, with certain crossing +lines traced upon it, that of the Faro table having the full suite of +thirteen cards arranged in two rows, face upwards and fixed; while on +the Monte tables but two cards appear thus--the Queen and Knave; or, as +designated in the game--purely Spanish and Spanish-American--"Caballo" +and "Sota." They are essentially card games, and altogether of chance, +just as is the casting of dice. + +Other gambling contrivances have place in the "El Dorado;" for it is a +"hell" of the most complete kind; but these are of slight importance +compared with the great games, Monte and Faro--the real _pieces de +resistance_--while the others are only side-dishes, indulged in by such +saunterers about the saloon as do not contemplate serious play. Of all, +Monte is the main attraction, its convenient simplicity--for it is +simple as "heads or tails"--making it possible for the veriest greenhorn +to take part in it, with as much likelihood of winning as the oldest +_habitus_ of the hell. Originally Mexican, in many of the western +states it has become Americanised. + +Of the visible insignia of the game, and in addition to the two cards +with their faces turned up, there is a complete pack, with several +stacks of circular-shaped and variously coloured pieces of ivory--the +"cheques" or counters of the game. These rest upon the table to the +right or left of the dealer--usually the "banker" himself--in charge of +his "croupier," who pays them out, or draws them in, as the bank loses +or wins, along with such coin as may have been staked upon the _albur_. + +Around the table's edge, and in front of each player, is his own private +pile, usually a mixture of doubloons, dollars, and ivory cheques, with +bags or packets of gold-dust and nuggets. Of bank-notes there are few, +or none--the currency of California being through the medium of metal; +at this date, 1849, most of it unminted, and in its crude state, as it +came out of the mine, or the river's mud. By the croupier's hand is a +pair of scales with weights appertaining; their purpose being to +ascertain the value of such little gold packages as are "punted" upon +the cards--this only needed to be known when the bank is loser. +Otherwise, they are ruthlessly raked in alongside the other deposits, +without any note made of the amount. + +The dealer sits centrally at the side of the table, in a grand chair, +cards in hand. After shuffling, he turns their faces up, one by one, +and with measured slowness. He interrupts himself at intervals as the +face of a card is exposed, making a point for or against him in the +game. Calling this out in calm voice and long-drawn monotone, he waits +for the croupier to square accounts; which the latter does by drawing +in, or pushing out, the coins and cheques, with the nimbleness of a +presti-digitateur. Old bets are rearranged, new ones made, and the +dealing proceeds. + +Around the tables sit, or stand, the players, exhibiting a variety of +facial types, and national costumes. For there you may see not only +human specimens of every known nationality, but of every rank in the +social scale, with the callings and professions that appertain to it; an +assemblage such as is rarely, if ever, observed elsewhere: gentlemen who +may have won university honours; officers wearing gold straps on their +shoulders, or bands of lace around the rims of their caps; native +Californians, resplendent in slashed and buttoned velveteens; States' +lawyers, and doctors, in sober black; even judges, who that same morning +were seated upon the bench--may be all observed at the Monte table, +mingling with men in red flannel shirts, blanket coats, and trousers +tucked into the tops of mud-bedaubed boots; with sailors in pea-jackets +of coarse pilot, or Guernsey smocks, unwashed, unkempt, unshorn; not +only mingling with, but jostled by them--rudely, if occasion call. + +All are on an equality here; no class distinction in the saloon "El +Dorado;" for all are on the same errand--to get rich by gambling. The +gold gleaming over the table is reflected in their faces. Not in +smiles, or cheerfully; but by an expression of hungry cupidity--fixed, +as if stamped into their features. No sign of hilarity, or joyfulness; +not a word of badinage passing about, or between; scarce a syllable +spoken, save the call-words of the dealer, or an occasional remark by +the croupier, explanatory of some disputed point about the placing, or +payment, of stakes. + +And if there be little light humour, neither is there much of +ill-manners. Strangely assorted as is the motley crowd--in part +composed of the roughest specimens of humanity--noisy speech is +exceptional, and rude or boisterous behaviour rare. Either shown would +be resented, and soon silenced; though, perhaps, not till after some +noises of still louder nature--the excited, angry clamour of a quarrel, +succeeded by the cracking of pistols; then a man borne off wounded, in +all likelihood to die, or already dead, and stretched along the sanded +floor, to be taken unconcernedly up, and carried feet-foremost out of +the room. + +And yet, in an instant, it will all be over. The gamesters, temporarily +attracted from the tables, will return to them; the dealing of the cards +will be resumed; and, amidst the chinking of coin, and the rattling of +cheques, the sanguinary drama will not only cease to be talked about, +but thought of. Bowie-knives and pistols are the police that preserve +order in the gambling-saloons of San Francisco. + +Although the "El Dorado" is owned by a single individual, this is only +as regards the house itself, with the drinking-bar and its +appurtenances. The gaming-tables are under separate and distinct +proprietorship; each belonging to a "banker," who supplies the cash +capital, and other necessaries for the game--in short, "runs" the table, +to use a Californian phrase. As a general rule, the owner of a table is +himself the dealer, and usually, indeed almost universally, a +distinguished "sportsman"--this being the appellation of the Western +States' professional gambler, occasionally abbreviated to "sport." He +is a man of peculiar characteristics, though not confined to California. +His "species" may be met with all over the United States, but more +frequently in those of the south and south-west; the Mississippi valley +being his congenial coursing-ground, and its two great metropolitan +cities, New Orleans and Saint Louis, his chief centres of operation. +Natchez, Memphis, Vicksburg, Louisville, and Cincinnati permanently have +him; but places more provincial, he only honours with an occasional +visit. He is encountered aboard all the big steamboats--those called +"crack," and carrying the wealthier class of passengers; while the +others he leaves to the more timid and less noted practitioners of his +calling. + +Wherever seen, the "sport" is resplendent in shirt-front, glittering +studs, with a grand cluster of diamonds on his finger sparkling like +star, or stalactite, as he deals out the cards. He is, in truth, an +_elegant_ of the first water, apparelled and perfumed as a D'Orsay, or +Beau Brummell; and, although ranking socially lower than these, with a +sense of honour quite as high, perhaps higher than had either. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. + +A MONTE BANK IN FULL BLAST. + +In the hell "El Dorado," as already said, there are five gambling +tables, side by side, but with wide spaces between for the players. +Presiding over the one which stands central is a man of about thirty +years of age, of good figure, and well-formed features--the latter +denoting Spanish descent--his cheeks clean shaven, the upper lip +moustached, the under having a pointed imperial or "goatee," which +extends below the extremity of his chin. He has his hat on--so has +everybody in the room--a white beaver, set upon a thick shock of black +wavy hair, its brim shadowing a face that would be eminently handsome, +but for the eyes, these showing sullen, if not sinister. Like his hair, +they are coal-black, though he rarely raises their lids, his gaze being +habitually fixed on the cards in his hands. Only once has he looked up +and around, on hearing a name pronounced bearing an odd resemblance to +that of the game he is engaged in, though merely a coincidence. It is +"Montijo." Two native Californians standing close behind him are +engaged in a dialogue, in which they incidentally speak of Don Gregorio. +It is a matter of no moment--only a slight allusion--and, as their +conversation is almost instantly over, the Monte dealer again drops his +long dark lashes, and goes on with the game, his features resuming their +wonted impassibility. + +Though to all appearance immobile as those of the Sphinx, one watching +him closely could see that there is something in his mind besides Monte. +For although the play is running high, and large bets are being laid, +he seems regardless about the result of the game--for this night only, +since it has never been so before. His air is at times abstracted--more +than ever after hearing that name--while he deals out the cards +carelessly, once or twice making mistakes. But as these have been +trifling, and readily rectified, the players around the table have taken +no particular notice of them, nor yet of his abstraction. It is not +sufficiently manifest to attract attention; and with the wonderful +command he has over himself, none of them suspect that he is at that +moment a prey to reflections of the strongest and bitterest kind. + +There is one, however, who is aware of it, knowing the cause; this, a +man seated on the players' side of the table, and directly opposite the +dealer. He is a personage of somewhat squat frame, a little below +medium height, of swarth complexion, and straight black hair; to all +appearance a _native_ Californian, though not wearing the national +costume, but simply a suit of dark broadcloth. He lays his bet, staking +large sums, apparently indifferent as to the result; while at the same +time eyeing the deposits of the other players with eager, nervous +anxiety, as though their losses and gains concerned him more than his +own--the former, to all appearance, gladdening, the the latter making +him sad! + +His behaviour might be deemed strange, and doubtless would, were there +any one to observe it. But there is not; each player is absorbed in his +own play, and the calculation of chances. + +In addition to watching his fellow-gamesters around the table, the +seemingly eccentric individual ever and anon turns his eye upon the +dealer--its expression at such times being that of intense earnestness, +with something that resembles reproof--as if he were annoyed by the +latter handling his cards so carelessly, and would sharply rebuke him, +could he get the opportunity without being observed. The secret of the +whole matter being, that he is a sleeping partner in the Monte bank--the +moneyed one too; most of its capital having been supplied by him. Hence +his indifference to the fate of his own stakes--for winning or losing is +all the same to him--and his anxiety about those of the general circle +of players. + +His partnership is not suspected; or, if so, only by the initiated. +Although sitting face to face with the dealer, no sign of recognition +passes between them, nor is any speech exchanged. They seem to have no +acquaintance with one another, beyond that begot out of the game. + +And so the play proceeds, amidst the clinking of coin, and clattering of +ivory pieces, these monotonous sounds diversified by the calls "Sota" +this, and "Caballo" that, with now and then a "Carajo!" or it may be +"Just my luck!" from the lips of some mortified loser. But, beyond such +slight ebullition, ill-temper does not show itself, or, at all events, +does not lead to any altercation with the dealer. That would be +dangerous, as all are aware. On the table, close to his right elbow, +rests a double-barrelled pistol, both barrels of which are loaded. And +though no one takes particular notice of it, any more than it were a +pair of snuffers on their tray, or one of the ordinary implements of the +game, most know well enough that he who keeps this standing symbol of +menace before their eyes is prepared to use it on slight provocation. + +It is ten o'clock, and the bank is in full blast. Up to this hour the +players in one thin row around the tables were staking only a few +dollars at a time--as skirmishers in advance of the main army, firing +stray shots from pieces of light calibre. Now the heavy artillery has +come up, the ranks are filled, and the files become doubled around the +different tables--two circles of players, in places three, engaging in +the game. And instead of silver dollars, gold eagles and doubloons--the +last being the great guns--are flung down upon the green baize, with a +rattle continuous as the firing of musketry. The battle of the night +has begun. + +But Monte and Faro are not the only attractions of the "El Dorado." The +shrine of Bacchus--its drinking-bar--has its worshippers as well; a +score of them standing in front of it, with others constantly coming and +going. + +Among the latest arrivals are two young men in the attire of navy +officers. At a distance it is not easy to distinguish the naval +uniforms of nations--almost universally dark blue, with gold bands and +buttons. More especially is it difficult when these are of the two +cognate branches of the great Anglo-Saxon race--English and American. +While still upon the street, the officers in question might have been +taken for either; but once within the saloon, and under the light of its +numerous lamps, the special insignia on their caps proclaim them as +belonging to a British man-of-war. And so do they--since they are +Edward Crozier and Willie Cadwallader. + +They have entered without any definite design, further than, as Crozier +said, to "have a shy at the tiger." Besides, as they have been told, a +night in San Francisco would not be complete without a look in upon "El +Dorado." + +Soon as inside the saloon, they step towards its drinking-bar, Crozier +saying-- + +"Come, Cad! let's do some sparkling." + +"All right," responds the descendant of the Cymri, his face already a +little flushed with what they have had at the _Parker_. + +"Pint bottle of champagne!" calls Crozier. + +"We've no pints here," saucily responds the bar-tender--a gentleman in +shirt-sleeves, with gold buckles on his embroidered braces--too grand to +append the courtesy of "sir." + +"Nothing less than quarts," he deigns to add. + +"A quart bottle, then!" cries Crozier, tossing down a doubloon to pay +for it. "A gallon, if you'll only have the goodness to give it us." + +The sight of the gold coin, with a closer inspection of his customers, +and perhaps some dread of a second sharp rejoinder, secures the +attention of the dignified Californian Ganymede, who, re-using his +hauteur, condescends to serve them. + +While drinking the champagne, the young officers direct their eyes +towards that part of the saloon occupied by the gamesters; where they +see several clusters of men collected around distinct tables, some +sitting, others standing. They know what it means, and that there is +Monte in their midst. + +Though Cadwallader has often heard of the game, he has never played it, +or been a spectator to its play. Crozier, who has both seen and played +it, promises to initiate him. + +Tossing off their glasses, and receiving the change--not much out of a +doubloon--they approach one of the Monte tables--that in the centre of +the saloon, around which there are players, standing and sitting three +deep. + +It is some time before they can squeeze through the two outside +concentric rings, and get within betting distance of the table. Those +already around it are not men to be pushed rudely apart, or make way for +a couple of youngsters, however imposing their appearance, or impatient +their manner. A mere officer's uniform is not much there, no matter the +nationality. Besides, in the circle are officers of far higher rank +than they, though belonging to a different service: naval captains and +commanders, and of army men, majors, colonels--even generals. What care +these for a pair of boisterous subalterns? Or what reck the rough +gold-diggers, and stalwart trappers, seen around the table, for any or +all of them? It is a chain, however ill-assorted in its links, not to +be severed _sans ceremonie_; and the young English officers must bide +their time. A little patience, and their turn will come too. + +Practising this, they wait for it with the best grace they can. And not +very long. One after another the more unfortunate of the gamesters get +played out; each, as he sees his last dollar swept away from him by the +ruthless rake of the croupier, heaving a sigh, and retiring from the +table; most of them with seeming reluctance, and looking back, as a +stripped traveller at the footpad who has turned his pockets inside out. + +Soon the outer ring is broken, leaving spaces between, into one of which +slips Crozier, Cadwallader pressing in along side of him. + +Gradually they squeeze nearer and nearer, till they are close to the +table's edge. + +Having, at length, obtained a position, where they can conveniently +place bets, they are about plunging their hands into their pockets for +the necessary stakes, when all at once the act is interrupted. The two +turn towards one another with eyes, attitude, everything expressing not +only surprise, but stark, speech-depriving astonishment. + +For on the opposite side of the table, seated in a grand chair, +presiding over the game, and dealing out the cards, Crozier sees the man +who has been making love to Carmen Montijo--his rival of the morning-- +while, at the same instant. Cadwallader has caught sight of _his_ +rival--the suitor of Inez Alvarez! + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY. + +FIGHTING THE TIGER. + +At sight of De Lara and Calderon, the English officers stand speechless, +as if suddenly struck dumb; for a pang has shot through their hearts, +bitter as poison itself. + +Crozier feels it keenest, since it is an affair which most concerns him. +The suitor of Carmen Montijo a "sport"--a common gambler! + +Cadwallader is less affected, though he too is annoyed. For although +Calderon is in the circle of outside players--apparently a simple +_punter_, like the rest--the companionship of the morning, with the +relations existing between the two men, tell of their being socially the +same. He already knows his rival to be a blackguard; in all likelihood +he is also a blackleg. + +Quick as thought itself, these reflections pass through the minds of the +young Englishmen; though for some time neither says a word--their looks +alone communicating to each other what both bitterly feel. + +Fortunately, their surprise is not noted by the players around the +table. Each is engrossed in his own play, and gives but a glance at the +new-comers, whose naval uniforms are not the only ones there. + +But there are two who take note of them in a more particular manner: +these, Faustino Calderon and Francisco de Lara. Calderon, looking along +the table--for he is on that same side--regards them with glances +furtive almost timid. Very different is the manner of De Lara. At +sight of Crozier he suspends the deal, his face suddenly turning pale, +while a spark of angry light flashes forth from his eyes. The +passionate display is to all appearance unobserved; or, if so, +attributed to some trifling cause, as annoyance at the game going +against him. It is almost instantly over; and the disturbed features of +the Monte dealer resume their habitual expression of stern placidity. + +The English officers having recovered from their first shock of +astonishment, also find restored to them the faculty of speech; and now +exchange thoughts, though not about that which so disturbs them. By a +sort of tacit understanding it is left to another time, Crozier only +saying-- + +"We'll talk of it when we get aboard ship. That's the place for sailors +to take counsel together, with a clear head, such as we will want. At +this precious minute, I feel like a fish out of water." + +"By Jove! so do I." + +"The thing we're both thinking of has raised the devil in me. But let +us not bother about it now. I've got something else in my mind. I'm +half-mad, and intend _fighting the tiger_." + +"Fighting the tiger! What do you mean by that, Ned? I don't quite +comprehend." + +"You soon will. If you wish it, I'll give you a little preliminary +explanation." + +"Yes, do. Perhaps I can assist you." + +"No, you can't. There's only one who can." + +"Who is he?" + +"It is not a he, but a she: the Goddess of Fortune. I intend soliciting +her favours; if she but grant them, I'll smash Mr De Lara's Monte +bank." + +"Impossible! There's no probability of your being able to do that." + +"Not much probability, I admit. Still there's a possibility. I've seen +such a thing done before now. Bold play and big luck combined will do +it. I'm in for the first; whether I have the last, remains to be seen. +In any case, I'll either break the bank, or lose all I've got on me-- +which by chance is a pretty big stake to begin with. So here goes!" + +Up to this time their conversation has been carried on in a low tone; no +one hearing or caring to listen to it--all being too much absorbed in +their own calculations to take heed of the bets or combinations of +others. If any one gives a glance at them, and sees them engaged in +their _sotto-voce_ dialogue, it is but to suppose they are discussing +which card they had best bet upon--whether the _Sota_ or _Caballo_; and +whether it would be prudent to risk a whole dollar, or limit their lay +to the more modest sum of fifty cents. + +They who may have been thus conjecturing, with everybody else, are taken +by surprise, in fact, somewhat startled, when the older of the two +officers, bending across the table, tosses a hundred pound Bank of +England note upon the baize, with as much nonchalance as if it were but +a five-dollar bill! + +"Shall I give you cheques for it?" asks the croupier, after examining +the crisp note--current over all the earth--and knowing it good as gold. + +"No," answers Crozier; "not yet. You can give that after the bet's +decided--if I win it. If not, you can take the note. I place it on the +Queen, against the Knave." + +The croupier, simply nodding assent, places the note as directed. + +During the interregnum in which this little episode occurs, the English +officers, hitherto scarce noticed, are broadly stared at, and closely +scrutinised--Crozier becoming the cynosure of every eye. He stands it +with a placid tranquillity, which shows him as careless about what they +may think him, as he is of his cash. + +Meanwhile, the cards have had a fresh shuffle, and the deal begins anew; +all eyes again turning upon the game. In earnest expectancy; those who, +like Crozier, have placed upon the Queen, wishing her to show her face +first. And she does. + +"_Caballo en la puerta mozo_!" (The Queen in the door wins) cries the +dealer, the words drawled out with evident reluctance, while a flash of +fierce anger is seen scintillating in his eyes. + +"Will you take it in cheques?" asks the croupier addressing himself to +Crozier, after settling the smaller bets. "Or shall I pay you in +specie?" + +"You needn't pay yet. Let the note lie. Only cover it with a like +amount. I go it double, and again upon the Queen." + +Stakes are re-laid--some changed--others left standing or doubled, as +Crozier's, which is now a bet for two hundred pounds. + +On goes the game, the piece of smooth pasteboard slipping silently from +the jewelled fingers of the dealer, whose eye is bent upon the cards, as +if he saw through them--or would, if he could. But whatever his wish, +he has no power to change the chances. If he have any professional +tricks, there is no opportunity for him to practise them. There are too +many eyes looking on; too many pistols and bowie-knives about; too many +men ready to stop any attempt at cheating, and punish it, if attempted. + +Again he is compelled to call out: + +"_Caballo en la puerta mozo_!" + +"Now, sir," says the croupier to Crozier, after settling other scores, +"you want your money, I suppose?" + +"Not yet. I'm not pressed, and can afford to wait. I again go double, +and am still contented with my Queen." + +The dealing proceeds; with four hundred pounds lying on the _Caballo_ to +Crozier's account--and ten times as much belonging to other bettors. +For now that the luck seems to be running with the Englishman, most lay +their stakes beside his. + +Once again: "_Caballo en la puerta mozo_!" + +And again Crozier declines to take up his bet. + +He has now eight hundred pounds sterling upon the card--sixteen hundred +on the turn of the game--while the others, thoroughly assured that his +luck is on the run, double theirs, till the bets against the bank post +up to as many thousands. + +De Lara begins to look anxious, and not a little downhearted. Still +more anxious, and lower in heart, appears him seated on the opposite +side--Calderon; for it is his money that is moving away. He is visibly +excited. On the contrary, Crozier is as cool as ever, his features set +in a rigid determination to do what he promised--break the bank, or lose +all he has got about him. The last, not likely yet, for soon again +comes the cry: + +"_The Queen winner_!" + +There is a pause longer than usual, for the settling of such a large +score; and after it an interval of inaction. The dealer seems inclined +to discontinue; for still lying upon the Queen is Crozier's stake, once +more doubled, and now counting three thousand two hundred pounds! + +Asked if he intends to let it remain, he replies sneeringly: + +"Of course I do; I insist upon it. And once more I go for the Queen. +Let those who like the Knave better, back him!" + +"Go on! Go on!" is the cry around the table, from many voices speaking +in tone of demand. + +De Lara glances at Calderon furtively, but, to those observing it, with +a look of interrogation. Whatever the sign, or answer, it decides him +to go on dealing. + +The bets are again made; to his dismay, almost everybody laying upon the +Queen, and, as before, increasing their stakes. And in like proportion +is heightened the interest in the game. It is too intense for any +display of noisy excitement now. And there is less throughout the +saloon; for many from the other tables, as all the saunterers, have +collected round, and standing several deep, gaze over one another's +shoulders, with as much eager earnestness as if a man were expiring in +their midst. + +The ominous call at length comes--not in clear voice, or tone exultant, +but feeble, and as if rung reluctantly from the lips of the Monte +dealer. For it is again a verdict adverse to the bank: + +"_Caballo en la puerta mozo_!" + +As De Lara utters the words, he dashes the cards down, scattering them +all over the table. Then rising excitedly from his chair, adds in +faltering tone: + +"Gentlemen, I'm sorry to tell you the bank's broke!" + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. + +A PLUCKY "SPORT." + +"_The bank's broke_!" + +Three words, that, despite their bad grammar, have oft--too oft-- +startled the ear, and made woe in many a heart. + +At hearing them, the gamesters of the "El Dorado" seated around Frank +Lara's Monte table spring to their feet, as if their chairs had suddenly +become converted into iron at white heat. They rise simultaneously, as +though all were united in a chain, elbow and elbow together. + +But while thus gesturing alike, very different is the expression upon +their faces. Some simply show surprise; others look incredulous; while +not a few give evidence of anger. + +For an instant there is silence--the surprise, the incredulity, the +anger having suspended speech. This throughout the saloon; for all, +bar-drinkers as well as gamesters, have caught the ominous words, and +thoroughly understand their import. No longer resounds the chink of +ivory cheques, or the metallic ring of doubloons and dollars. No longer +the thudding down of decanters, nor the jingle of glasses. Instead, a +stillness so profound that one entering at this moment might fancy it a +Quakers' meeting, but for the symbols seen around--these, anything but +Quakerish. Easier to imagine it a grand gambling-hell, where dealers, +croupiers, players, and spectators have all been suddenly turned to +stone, or have become figures in wax-work. + +The silence is of the shortest--as also the immobility of the men +composing the different groups--only for a half-score seconds. Then +there is noise enough, with plenty of gesticulation. A roar arises that +fills the room; while men rush about wildly, madly, as if in the +courtyard of a lunatic asylum. Some show anger--those who are losers by +the breaking of the bank. Many have won large bets, their stakes still +lying on the table, which they know will not be paid. The croupier has +told them so, confessing his cash-box cleared out at the last +settlement; even this having been effected with the now protested ivory +cheques. + +Some gather up their gold or silver, and stow it in safety, growling, +but satisfied that things are no worse. Others are not so lenient. +They do not believe there is a good cause for the suspension, and insist +on being paid in full. They rail at the proprietor of the bank, adding +menace. De Lara is the man thus marked. They see him before them, +grandly dressed, glittering with diamonds. They talk of stripping him +of his _bijouterie_. + +"No, gentlemen!" he exclaims, with a sardonic sneer. "Not that, if you +please--not yet. First hear me, and then it will be time for you to +strike." + +"What have you to say?" demands one, with his fists full of ivory +counters, unredeemed. + +"Only that I'm not the _owner_ of this bank, and never have been." + +"Who is, then?" ask several at the same time. + +"Well; that I can't tell you just now; and, what's more, I _won't_. No, +that I won't." + +The gambler says this with emphasis, and an air of sullen determination, +that has its effect upon his questioners--even the most importunate. +For a time it stays their talk, as well as action. + +Seeing this, he follows it up with further speech, somewhat mere +conciliatory. + +"As I've said, gentlemen, I'm not the owner of this concern--only the +dealer of the cards. You ask, who's proprietor of the smashed table. +It's natural enough you should want to know. But it's just as natural +that it ain't my business to tell you. If I did, it would be a shabby +trick; and, I take it, you're all men enough to see it in that light. +If there's any who isn't, he can have my card, and call upon me at his +convenience. My name's Francisco de Lara--or Frank Lara, for short. I +can be found here, or anywhere else in San Francisco, at such time as +may suit anxious inquirers. And if any wants me now, and can't wait, +I'm good this minute for pistols across that bit of board we've just +been seated at. Yes, gentlemen! Any of you who'd relish a little +amusement of that kind, let him come on! It'll be a change from the +Monte. For my part, I'm tired of shuffling cards, and would like to +rest my fingers on a trigger. Which of you feels disposed to give me +the chance? Don't all speak at once!" + +No one feels disposed, and no one speaks; at least in hostile tone, or +to take up the challenge. Instead, half a score surround the "sport," +and not only express their admiration of his pluck, but challenge him to +an encounter of drinks, not pistols. + +Turning towards the bar, they vociferate "Champagne." + +Contented with the turn things have taken, and proud at the volley of +invitations, De Lara accepts; and soon the vintage of France is seen +effervescing from a dozen tall glasses, and the Monte dealer stands +drinking in the midst of his admirers. + +Other groups draw up to the bar-counter, while twos and solitary +tipplers fill the spaces between. + +The temple of Fortuna is for a time deserted, her worshippers +transferring their devotion to the shrine of Bacchus. The losers drink +to drown disappointment, while the winners quaff cups in the +exhilaration of success. + +If a bad night for the bank, it is a good one for the bar. Decanters +are speedily emptied, and bottles of many kinds go "down among the dead +men." + +The excitement in the "El Dorado" is soon over. Occurrences of like +kind, but often of more tragical termination, are too common in +California to cause any long-sustained interest. Within the hour will +arise some new event, equally stirring, leaving the old to live only in +the recollection of those who have been active participants in it. + +So with the breaking of Frank Lara's bank. A stranger, entering the +saloon an hour after, from what he there sees, could not tell, neither +would he suspect that an incident of so serious nature had occurred. +For in less than this time the same Monte table is again surrounded by +gamesters, as if its play had never been suspended. The only difference +observable is that quite another individual presides over it, dealing +out the cards, while a new croupier has replaced him whose cash receipts +so suddenly ran short of his required disbursements. + +The explanation is simply that there has been a change of owners, +another celebrated "sport" taking up the abandoned bank and opening it +anew. With a few exceptions the customers are the same, their number +not sensibly diminished. Most of the old players have returned to it, +while the places of those who have defected, and gone off to other +gambling resorts, are filled by fresh arrivals. + +A small party of gentlemen, who think they have had play enough for that +night, have left the "El Dorado" for good. Among these are the English +officers, whose visit proved so prejudicial to the interests of the +place. + +De Lara, too, and Calderon, with other confederates, have forsaken the +saloon. But whither gone no one knows, or seems to care; for the +fortunes of fallen men soon cease to interest those who are themselves +madly struggling to mount up. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. + +A SUPPER CARTE-BLANCHE. + +On parting from the "El Dorado," Crozier and Cadwallader do not go +directly aboard the _Crusader_. They know that their boat will be +awaiting them at the place appointed. But the appointment is for a +later hour; and as the breaking of the Monte bank, with the incidents +attendant, occupied but a short while, there will be time for them to +see a little more of San Francisco life. They have fallen in with +several other young officers, naval like themselves, though not of their +own ship, nor yet their own navy, or nation, but belonging to one +cognate and kindred--Americans. Through the freemasonry of their common +profession, with these they have fraternised, and it is agreed they +shall all sup together. Crozier has invited the Americans to a repast +the most _recherche_, as the costliest, that can be obtained at the +grandest hotel in San Francisco, the _Parker House_. He adds +humorously, that he is able to stand the treat. And well he may; since, +besides the English money with which he entered the "El Dorado," he has +brought thousands of dollars out of it, and would have brought more had +all the ivory cheques been honoured. As it is, his pockets are filled +with notes and gold; as also those of Cadwallader, who helps him to +carry the shining stuff. Part of the heavy metal he has been able to +change into the more portable form of bank-notes. Yet the two are still +heavily weighted--"laden like hucksters' donkeys!" jokingly remarks +Cadwallader, as they proceed towards the _Parker_. + +At the hotel a private room is engaged; and, according to promise, +Crozier bespeaks a repast of the most sumptuous kind, with +_carte-blanche_ for the best wines--champagne at three guineas a bottle, +hock the same, and South-side Madeira still more. What difference to +him? + +The supper ordered in the double-quick soon makes its appearance. +Sooner in San Francisco than in any other city in the world; in better +style, too, and better worth the money; for the Golden City excels in +the science of gastronomy. Even then, amidst her canvas sheds, and +weather-boarded houses, could be obtained dishes of every kind known to +Christendom, or Pagandom: the _cuisine_ of France, Spain, and Italy; the +roast beef of Old England, as the pork and beans of the New; the _gumbo_ +of Guinea, and _sauerkraut_ of Germany, side by side with the +swallow's-nest soup and sea-slugs of China. Had Lucullus but lived in +these days, he would have forsaken the banks of the Tiber, and made +California his home. + +The repast furnished by the _Parker House_, however splendid, has to be +speedily despatched; for unfortunately time forbids the leisurely +enjoyment of the viands, to a certain extent marring the pleasure of the +occasion. All the officers, American as English, have to be on their +respective ships at the stroke of twelve. + +Reluctantly breaking up their hilarious company, they prepare to depart. + +They have forsaken the supper-room, and passed on to the outer saloon of +the hotel; like all such, furnished with a drinking-bar. + +Before separating, and while buttoning up against the chill night-air, +Crozier calls out: + +"Come, gentlemen; one more glass! The stirrup-cup!" + +In San Francisco this is always the wind up to a night of revelry. No +matter how much wine has been quaffed, the carousal is not deemed +complete without a last "valedictory" drink taken standing at the bar. + +Giving way to the Californian custom, the officers range themselves +along the marble slab; bending over which, the polite bar-keeper asks: + +"What is it to be, gentlemen?" + +There is a moment of hesitation, the gentlemen--already well wined-- +scarce knowing what to call for. Crozier cuts the Gordian knot by +proposing: + +"A round of punches _a la Romaine_!" + +Universal assent to this delectable drink; as all know just the thing +for a night-cap. + +Soon the cooling beverage, compounded with snow from the Sierra Nevada, +appears upon the counter, in huge glasses, piled high with the sparkling +crystals; a spoon surmounting each--for punch _a la Romaine_ is not to +be drunk, but eaten. + +Shovelling it down in haste, adieus are exchanged, with a hearty shake +of hands. Then the American officers go off, leaving Crozier and +Cadwallader in the saloon; these only staying to settle the account. + +While standing by the bar, waiting for it to be brought, they cast a +glance around the room. At first careless, it soon becomes concentrated +on a group seen at some distance off, near one of the doors leading out, +of which there are several. There are also several other groups; for +the saloon is of large dimensions, besides being the most popular place +of resort in San Francisco. And for San Francisco the hour is not yet +late. Along the line of the drinking-bar, and over the white-sanded +floor, are some scores of people of all qualities and kinds, in almost +every variety of costume; though they who compose the party that has +attracted the attention of the English officers show nothing +particular--that is, to the eye of one unacquainted with them. There +are four of them, two wearing broadcloth cloaks, the other two having +their shoulders shrouded under _serapes_. Nothing in all that. The +night is cold, indeed wet, and they are close to the door, to all +appearance intending soon to step out. They have only paused to +exchange a parting word, as if they designed to separate before issuing +into the street. + +Though the spot where they stand is in shadow--a folding screen +separating it from the rest of the saloon--and it is not easy to get +sight of their faces--the difficulty increased by broad-brimmed hats set +slouchingly on their heads, with their cloaks and serapes drawn up +around their throats--Crozier and Cadwallader have not only seen, but +recognised them. A glance at their countenances, caught before the +muffling was made, enabled the young officers to identify three of them +as De Lara, Calderon, and the _ci-devant_ croupier of the Monte bank. +The fourth, whose face they have also seen, is a personage not known to +them; but, judging by his features, a suitable associate for the other +three. + +Soon as catching sight of them, which he is the first to do, Crozier +whispers to his companion: + +"See, Will! Look yonder! Our friends from the `El Dorado!'" + +"By Jove! them, sure enough. Do you think they've been following us?" + +"I shouldn't wonder. I was only surprised they didn't do something, +when they had us in their gambling den. After the heavy draw I made on +Mr Lara's bank, I expected no less than that he'd try to renew his +acquaintance with me; all the more from his having been so free of it in +the morning. Instead, he and his friend seemed to studiously avoid +coming near us--not even casting a look in our direction. That rather +puzzled me." + +"It needn't. After what you gave him, I should think he'll feel shy of +another encounter." + +"No; that's not it. Blackleg though the fellow be, he's got game in +him. He gave proof of it in the `El Dorado,' defying, and backing +everybody out. It was an exhibition of real courage, Will; and, to tell +the truth, I couldn't help admiring it--can't now. When I saw him +presiding over the gambling table, and dealing out the cards, I at once +made up my mind that it would never do to meet him--even if he +challenged me. Now, I've decided differently; and if he call me out, +I'll give him a chance to recover a little of his lost reputation. I +will, upon my honour." + +"But why should you? A `sport,' a professional gambler! The thing +would be simply ridiculous." + +"Nothing of the kind--not here in California. On the contrary, I should +cut a more ridiculous figure by refusing him satisfaction. It remains +to be seen whether he'll seek it according to the correct code." + +"That he won't; at least, I don't think he will. From the way that lot +have got their heads together, it looks as if they meant mischief, +_now_. They may have been watching their opportunity--to get us two +alone. What a pity we didn't see them before our friends went off! +They're good fellows, those Yankee officers, and would have stood by +us." + +"No doubt they would. But it's too late now. They're beyond hailing +distance, and we must take care of ourselves. Get your dirk ready, +Will, and have your hand close to the butt of that shooting-iron, you +took from Mr De Lara." + +"I have it that way. Never fear. Wouldn't it be a good joke if I have +to give the fellow a pill out of his own pistol?" + +"No joking matter to us, if they're meditating an attack. Though we +disarmed him in the morning, he'll be freshly provided, and with weapons +in plenty. I'll warrant each of the four has a battery concealed under +his cloak. They appear as if concocting some scheme--which we'll soon +know all about--likely before leaving the house. Certainly, they're up +to something." + +"Four hundred and ninety dollars, gentlemen!" + +The financial statement is made by the office clerk presenting the bill. + +"There!" cries Crozier, flinging down a five hundred dollar bill. "Let +that settle it. You can keep the change for yourself." + +"Thank ye," dryly responds the Californian dispenser of drinks, taking +the ten dollar tip with less show of gratitude than a London waiter +would give for a fourpenny piece--little as that may be. + +Turning to take departure, the young officers again look across the +saloon, to learn how the hostile party has disposed itself. To their +surprise, the gamblers are gone; having disappeared while the account +was being paid. + +"I don't like the look of it," says Crozier, in a whisper. "Less now +than ever. No doubt we'll find them outside. Well; we can't stay here +all night. If they attack us, we must do our best. Take a firm grip of +your pistol, with your finger close to the trigger; and if any of them +shows sign of shooting, see that you fire first. Follow me; and keep +close!" + +On the instant of delivering these injunctions, he starts towards the +door, Cadwallader following as directed. + +Both step out, and for a short while stand gazing interrogatively around +them. People they see in numbers, some lounging by the hotel porch, +others passing along the street. But none in cloaks or _serapes_. The +gamblers must have gone clear away. + +"After all, we may have been wronging them," remarks Urozier, as in his +nature, giving way to a generous impulse. "I can hardly think that a +fellow who's shown such courage would play the assassin. Maybe they +were but putting their heads together about challenging us? If that's +it, we may expect to hear from them in the morning. It looks all right. +Anyhow, we can't stay dallying here. If we're not aboard by eight +bells, old Bracebridge 'll masthead us. Let's heave along, my hearty!" + +So saying, he leads off, Cadwallader close on his quarter--both a little +unsteady in their steps, partly from being loaded with the spoils of "El +Dorado," and partly from the effects of the _Parker House_ wines, and +punches _a la Romaine_. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. + +HARRY BLEW HOMELESS. + +While the exciting scene described as taking place in the saloon "El +Dorado" was at its height, Harry Blew went past the door. Could the +sailor have seen through walls, he would have entered the Hell. The +sight of His former officers would have attracted him inside; there to +remain, for more reasons than one. + +Of one he had already thought. Conjecturing that the young gentleman +might be going on a bit of spree, and knowing the dangers of such in San +Francisco, it had occurred to him to accompany, or keep close after +them--in order that he might be at hand, should they come into collision +with any of the roughs and rowdies thick upon the street. +Unfortunately, this idea, like that of asking them for a cash loan, had +come too late; and they were out of sight ere he could take any steps +towards its execution. A glance into the gambling-saloon would have +brought both opportunities back again; and, instead of continuing to +wander hungry through the streets, he would have had a splendid supper, +and after it a bed, either in some respectable hostelry, or his old bunk +aboard the _Crusader_. + +It was not to be. While passing the "El Dorado," he could know nothing +of the friends that were so near; and thus unconscious, he leaves the +glittering saloon behind, and a half-score others lighted with like +brilliancy. + +For a while longer he saunters slowly about, in the hope of yet +encountering the officers. Several times he sees men in uniform, and +makes after them, only to find they are not English. + +At length giving it up, he quickens his pace, and strikes for the office +of Silvestre, which he knows to be in the street fronting the water. + +As San Francisco is not like an old seaport, where house-room is cheap +and abundant, but every foot of roof-shelter utilised by day as by +night, there is a chance the office may still be open. In all +probability, the shipping-agent sleeps by the side of his ledger; or, if +not, likely enough one of his clerks. In which case he, Harry Blew, may +be allowed to lie along the floor, or get a shake-down in some adjoining +shed. He would be but too glad to stretch himself on an old sack, a +naked bench, or, for that matter, sit upright in a chair. For he is now +fairly fagged out perambulating the unpaved streets of that inhospitable +town. + +Tacking from corner to corner, now and then hitching up his trousers, to +give freer play to his feet, he at length comes out upon the street +which fronts upon the bay. In his week's cruising about the town he has +acquired some knowledge of its topography, and knows well enough where +he is; but not the office of the shipping-agent. It, therefore, takes +him a considerable time to find it. Along the water's edge the houses +are irregularly placed, and numbered with like irregularity. Besides, +there is scarce any light; the night has become dark, with a sky densely +clouded, and the street-lamps burning whale-oil are dim, and at long +distances apart. It is with difficulty he can make out the figures upon +the doors. However, he is at length successful, and deciphers on one +the number he is in search of--as also the name "Silvestre," painted on +a piece of tin attached to to the side-post, A survey of the house-- +indeed, a single glance at it--convinces him he has come thither to no +purpose. It is a small wooden structure, not much bigger than a +sentry-box, evidently only an office, with no capability of conversion +to a bed-chamber. Still it has room enough to admit of a man's lying at +full length along its floor; and, as already said, he would be glad of +so disposing himself for the night. There may be some one inside, +though the one window--in size corresponding to the shanty itself--looks +black and forbidding. + +With no very sanguine hope, he lays hold of the door-handle, and gives +it a twist. Locked, as he might have expected! + +The test not satisfying him, he knocks. At first timidly; then a little +bolder and louder; finally, giving a good round rap with his knuckles-- +hard as horn. At the same time he hails sailor-fashion: + +"Ahoy, there; be there any one within?" + +This in English; but, remembering that the ship-agent is a Spaniard, he +follows his first hail with another in the Spanish tongue, adding the +usual formulary: + +"_Abre la puerta_!" + +Neither to question, nor demand is there any response. Only the echo of +his own voice reverberated along the line of houses, and dying away in +the distance, as it mingles with the sough of the sea. + +No use speaking, or knocking again. Undoubtedly, Silvestre's office is +closed for the night; and his clerks, if there be any, have their +sleeping-quarters elsewhere. + +Forced to this conclusion, though sadly dissatisfied with it, the +ex-man-o'-war's man turns away from the door, and once more goes +cruising along the streets. But now, having no definite point to steer +for, he makes short tacks and turns, like a ship sailing under an +unfavourable wind--or as one disregarding the guidance of the compass, +without steersman at the wheel. + +After beating about for nearly another hour, he discovers himself +contiguous to the water's edge. His instincts have conducted him +thither--as the seal, after a short inland excursion, finds its way back +to the beach. Ah! if he could only swim like a seal! + +This thought occurs to him as he stands looking over the sea in the +direction of the _Crusader_. Were it possible to reach the frigate, all +his troubles would soon be forgotten in the cheerful companionship of +his old chums of the forepeak. + +It can't be. The man-of-war is anchored more than two miles off. +Strong swimmer though he knows himself, it is too far. Besides, a fog +has suddenly sprung up, overspreading the bay, so that the frigate is +hidden from his sight. Even ships lying close in shore can be but +faintly discerned through its film, and only the larger spars; the +smaller ones, with the rigging-ropes, looking like the threads of a +spider's web. + +Downhearted, almost despairing, Harry Blew halts upon the beach. What +is he to do? Lie down on the sand, and there go to sleep? There are +times when on the shores of San Francisco Bay this would not be much of +a hardship. But now, it is the season of winter, when the Pacific +current, coming from latitudes farther north, rolls in through the +Golden Gate, bringing with it fogs that spread themselves over the great +estuary inside. Although not frosty, these are cold enough to be +uncomfortable, and the haze now is accompanied by a chill drizzling +rain. + +Standing under it, Harry Blew feels he is fast getting wet. If he do +not obtain shelter, he will soon be soaked to the skin. + +Looking inquiringly around, his eye rests upon a boat, which lies bottom +upward on the beach, appearing through the thick rain like the carapace +of a gigantic turtle. It is an old ship's launch that has bilged, and +either been abandoned as useless, or upturned to receive repairs. No +matter what its history, it offers the hospitality so scurvily refused +him at the "Sailor's Home." If it cannot give him supper, or bed, it +will be some protection against the rain that has now commenced coming +down in big clouting drops. + +This deciding him, he creeps under the capsized launch, and lays himself +at full length along the shingle. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. + +IN DANGEROUS PROXIMITY. + +The spot upon which the ex-man-o'-war's man has stretched himself is +soft as a feather-bed. Still he does not fall asleep. The rain, +filtering through the sand, soon finds its way under the boat; and, +saturating his couch, makes it uncomfortable. This, with the cold +night-air, keeps him awake. + +He lies listening to the sough of the sea, and the big drops pattering +upon the planks above. + +Not long before other sounds salute his ear, distinguishable as human +voices--men engaged in conversation. + +As he continues to listen, the voices grow louder, those who converse +evidently drawing nearer. + +In a few seconds they are by the boat's side, where they come to a +stand. But though they have paused in their steps, they continue to +talk in excited, earnest tones. And so loud, that he can hear every +word they say; though the speakers are invisible to him. The capsized +boat is not so flush with the sand as to prevent him from seeing the +lower part of their legs, from the knees downward. Of these there are +four pairs, two of them in trousers of the ordinary kind; the other two +in _calzoneras_ of velveteen, bordered at the bottoms with black stamped +leather. But, that all four men are Californians, or Spaniards, he can +tell by the language in which they are conversing--Spanish. A lucky +chance that he understands something of this--if not for himself, for +the friends who are dear to him. + +The first intelligible speech that reaches his ear is an interrogatory: + +"You're sure, Calderon, they'll come this way?" + +"Quite sure, De Lara. When I stood by them at the hotel-bar, I heard +the younger of the two tell one of the American officers that their boat +was to meet them at the wooden _muello_--the new pier, as you know. To +reach that they must pass by here; there's no other way. And it can't +be long before they make appearance. They were leaving the hotel at the +time we did, and where else should they go?" + +"Not knowing,"--this from the voice of a third individual. "They may +stay to take another _copita_, or half-a-dozen. These Inglese can drink +like fish, and don't seem to feel it." + +"The more they drink the better for us," remarks a fourth. "Our work +will be the easier." + +"It may not be so easy, Don Manuel," puts in De Lara. "Young as they +are, they're very devils both. Besides, they're well armed, and will +battle like grizzly bears. I tell you, _camarados_, we'll have work to +do before we get back our money." + +"But do you intend killing them, De Lara?" asks he who has been called +Calderon. + +"Of course. We must, for our own sakes. 'Twould be madness not, even +if we could get the money without it. The older, Crozier, is enormously +rich, I've heard; could afford to buy up all the law there is in San +Francisco. If we let them escape, he'd have the police after us like +hounds upon a trail. Even if they shouldn't recognise us now, they'd be +sure to suspect who it was, and make the place too hot to hold us. +_Caspita_! It's not a question of choice, but a thing of necessity. +_We must kill them_!" + +Harry Blew hears the cold-blooded determination, comprehending it in all +its terrible significance. It tells him the young officers are still in +the town, and that these four men are about to waylay, rob, and murder +them. What they mean by "getting back their money" is the only thing he +does not comprehend. It is made clear as the conversation continues: + +"I'm sure there's nothing unfair in taking back our own. I, Frank Lara, +say so. It was they who brought about the breaking of our bank, which +was done in a mean, dastardly way. The Englishman had the luck, and all +the others of his kind went with him. But for that we could have held +out. It's no use our whining about it. We've lost, and must make good +our losses best way we can. We can't, and be safe ourselves, if we let +these _gringos_ go." + +"_Chingara_! we'll stop their breath, and let there be no more words +about it." + +The merciless verdict is in the voice of Don Manuel. + +"You're all agreed, then?" asks De Lara. + +"_Si, si, si_!" is the simultaneous answer of assent, Calderon alone +seeming to give it with reluctance; though he hesitates from timidity, +not mercy. + +Harry Blew now knows all. The officers have been gaming, have won +money, and the four fellows who talk so coolly of killing them are the +chief gambler and his confederates. + +What is he to do? How can he save the doomed men. Both are armed; +Crozier has his sword, Cadwallader his dirk. Besides, the midshipman +has a pistol, as he saw while they were talking to him at the Sailor's +Home. But then they are to be taken unawares--shot, or struck down, in +the dark, without a chance of seeing the hand that strikes them! Even +if warned and ready, it would be two against four. And he is himself +altogether unarmed; for his jack-knife is gone--hypothecated to pay for +his last jorum of grog! And the young officers have been drinking +freely, as he gathers from what the ruffians say. They may be +inebriated, or enough so to put them off their guard. Who would be +expecting assassination? Who ever is, save a Mexican himself? +Altogether unlikely that they should be thinking of such a thing. On +the contrary, disregarding danger, they will come carelessly on, to fall +like ripe corn before the sickle of the reaper. + +The thought of such a fate for his friends fills the sailor with keenest +apprehension; and again he asks himself how it is to be averted. + +The four conspirators are not more than as many feet from the boat. By +stretching out his hands he could grip them by the ankles, without +altering his recumbent attitude one inch. And by doing this, he might +give the guilty plotters such a scare as would cause them to retreat, +and so baffle their design. + +The thought comes before his mind, but is instantly abandoned. The +fellows are not of the stuff to be frightened at shadows. By their +talk, at least two are desperadoes, and to make known his presence would +be only to add another victim to those already doomed to death. + +But what is he to do? For the third time he asks himself this question, +still unable to answer it. + +While still painfully cogitating, his brain labouring to grasp some +feasible plan of defence against the threatened danger, he is warned of +a change. Some words spoken tell of it. It is De Lara who speaks them. + +"By the way, _camarados_, we're not in a good position here. They may +sight us too soon. To make things sure, we must drop on them before +they can draw their weapons. Else some of us may get dropped +ourselves." + +"Where could we be better? I don't see. The shadow of this old boat +favours us." + +"Why not crawl under it?" asks Calderon. "There Argus himself couldn't +see us." + +Harry Blew's heart beats at the double-quick. His time seems come, and +he already fancies four pistols to his head, or the same number of +poniards pointed at his ribs. + +It is a moment of vivid anxiety--a crisis dread, terrible, almost +agonising. + +Fortunately it is not of long duration, ending almost on the instant. +He is relieved at hearing one of them say: + +"No; that won't do. We'd have trouble in scrambling out again. While +about it they'd see or hear us, and take to their heels. You must +remember, it's but a step to where their boat will be waiting them, with +some eight or ten of those big British tars in it. If they got there +before we overtook them, the tables would be turned on us." + +"You're right, Don Manuel," rejoins De Lara; "it won't do to go under +the boat, and there's no need for us to stay by it. _Mira_! yonder's a +better place--by that wall. In its shadow no one can see us, and the +_gringos_ must pass within twenty feet of it. It's the very spot for +our purpose. Have with me!" + +No one objecting, the four separate from the side of the boat and glide +silently as spectres across the strip of sandy beach, their forms +gradually growing indistinct in the fog, at length altogether +disappearing beneath the sombre shadow of the wall. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. + +CRUSADERS, TO THE RESCUE! + +"What am I to do!" + +It is the ex-man-o'-war's man, still lying under the launch, who thus +interrogates himself. He has put the question for the fourth time that +night, and now as emphatically as ever, but less despairingly. + +True, the conspiring assassins have only stepped aside to a lurking +place from which they may more conveniently pounce upon their quarry, +and be surer of striking it. But their changed position has left him +free to change his; which he at once determines upon doing. Their talk +has told him where the man-of-war's boat will be awaiting to take the +officers back to their ship. He knows the new wharf referred to, the +very stair at which the _Crusaders_ have been accustomed to bring to. + +It may be the cutter with her full crew of ten--or it may be but the +gig. No matter which. There cannot be fewer than two oarsmen, and +these will be sufficient. A brace of British tars, with himself to make +three, and the officers to tot up five--that will be more than a match +for four Spanish Californians. Four times four, thinks Harry Blew, even +though the sailors, like himself, be unarmed, or with nothing but their +knives and boat-hooks. + +He has no fear, if he can but bring it to an encounter of this kind. +The question is, can he do so? And first, can he creep out from under +the launch, and steal away unobserved? + +A glance of scrutiny towards the spot where the assassins have placed +themselves in ambuscade, satisfies him that he can. The fog favours +him. Through it he cannot see them; and should be himself equally +invisible. + +Another circumstance will be in his favour: on the soft, sandy beach his +footsteps will make but slight noise: not enough to be heard above the +hoarse continuous surging of the surf. + +All this passes in a moment, and he has made up his mind to start; but +hesitates from a new apprehension. Will he be in time? The stair at +which the boat should lie is not over a quarter of a mile off, and will +take but a few minutes to reach it. Even if he succeed in eluding the +vigilance of the ambushed villains, will it be possible for him to get +to the pier, communicate with the boat's crew, and bring them back, +before the officers reach the place of ambush? + +To all this the answer is doubtful, and the doubt appals him. In his +absence, the young gentlemen may arrive at the fatal spot. He may +return to find their bodies lying lifeless along the sand, their pockets +rifled, their murderers gone! + +The thought holds him irresolute, doubting what course to take. Should +he remain till they are heard approaching, then rush out, give them such +warning as he may, throw himself by their side, and do his best to +defend them? Unarmed, this would not be much. Against pistols and +poniards he would scarce count as a combatant. It might but end in all +three being slaughtered together! But there is also the danger of his +being discovered in his attempt to slip away from his place of +concealment. He may be followed, and overtaken; though he has little +fear of this. Pursued he may be, but not overtaken. Despite his +sea-legs, he knows himself a swift runner. Were he assured of a fair +start, he can hold his distance against anything Spanish or Californian. +In five minutes he might reach the pier--in five more be back. If he +find the _Crusaders_ there, a word will warn them. In all it would take +about ten minutes. But, meanwhile, Crozier and Cadwallader may get upon +the ground, and one minute--half a minute--after all would be over. + +A terrible struggle agitates the breast of the man-o'-war's man; in his +thoughts is conflict agonising. On either side are _pros_ and _cons_, +requiring calm deliberation; and there is no time to deliberate. He +must act. + +But one more second spends he in consideration. He has confidence in +the young officers. Both are brave as lions, and if attacked, will make +a tough fight of it. Crozier has also caution, on which dependence may +be placed; and at such a time of night he will not be going unguardedly. +The strife, though unequal, might last long enough for him, Harry Blew, +to bring the _Crusaders_--at least near enough to cry out--and cheer +their officers with the hope of help at hand. + +All this flits through Harry Blew's brain in a tenth part of the time it +takes to tell it. And having resolved how to act, he hastens to carry +out his resolution--to proceed in quest of the boat's crew. + +Sprawling like a lizard from beneath the launch, he glides off silently +along the strand. At first, with slow, cautious steps, and crouchingly, +but soon erect, in a rapid run, as if for the saving of his life; for it +is to save the lives of others, almost dear as his own. + +The five minutes are not up, when his footsteps patter along the +planking of the hollow wooden wharf; and in ten seconds after, he stands +at the head of the sea-stairway, looking down. + +Below is a boat with men in it--half-a-score of them--seated on the +thwarts, some lolling over against the gunwales asleep. At a glance he +can tell them to be _Crusaders_. + +His hail startles them into activity; one and all recognising the voice +of their old shipmate. + +"Quick!" he cries; "quick, mates! This way, and along with me! Don't +stay to ask questions. Enough for you to know that the lives of your +officers are in danger." + +It proves enough. The tars don't wait for a word more; but spring from +their recumbent attitude, and out of the boat. + +Rushing up the pier steps, they cluster around their comrade. They have +not needed instructions to arm themselves. Harry's speech, with its +tone, told of some shore hostility, and they have instinctively made +ready to meet it; each laying hold of the weapon nearest to his hand; +some a knife, some an oar, others a boat-hook. + +"Heave with me, lads!" cries Harry; and they "heave"--at his heels-- +rushing after, as if to extinguish a fire in the forecastle. + +Soon they are coursing along the strand, towards the upturned boat, +silently, and without asking explanation. If they did, they could not +get it; for their leader is panting, breathless, almost unable to utter +a word. But five issue from his throat, jerked out disjointedly, and in +hoarse utterance. They are: + +"Crozier--Cadwallader--waylaid--robbers--murderers!" + +Enough to spur the _Crusaders_ to their best speed, if _not_ already at +it. But they are; every man of them straining his strength to the +utmost. + +As they rush on, cleaving the thick fog, Harry at their head listens +intently. As yet he can distinguish no sound to alarm him; only the +monotonous swashing of the sea, and the murmur of distant voices in the +streets of the town. But no cries--no shouts, nor shots; nothing to +tell of deadly strife. + +"Thank the Lord!" says the brave sailor, half speaking to himself; +"we'll be in time to save them." + +The words have scarce passed from his lips, when he comes in sight of +the capsized launch; and almost simultaneously sees two figures upon the +beach beyond. They are of human shape, but through the fog looking +grand as giants. + +He is not beguiled by the deception; he knows it to be the two officers, +their forms magnified by the mist. No others are likely to be coming +that way; for he can see they are approaching; and, as can be told by +their careless, swaggering gait, unsuspicious of danger, little dreaming +of an ambuscade, that in ten seconds more may deprive them of existence! +To him, hurrying to avert this catastrophe, it is a moment of intense +apprehension--of dread chilling fear. He sees them almost up to the +place where the assassins should spring out upon them. In another +instant he may hear the cracking of pistols, and see flashes through the +fogs. Expecting it even before he can speak, he nevertheless calls out: + +"Avast there, Mr Crozier! We're _Crusaders_. Stop where you are. +Another step, and you'll be shot at. There's four men under that wall +waiting to murder ye. D'ye know the names, Calderon and Lara? It's +them!" + +At the first words, the young officers--for it is they--instantly come +to a stand. The more promptly from being prepared to expect an attack, +but without the warning. Well-timed it is; and they have not stopped a +moment too soon. + +Simultaneous with the sailor's last word, the sombre space under the +wall is lit up by four flashes, followed by the report of as many +pistols, while the "tzip-tzip" of bullets, like hornets hurtle pass +their ears, leaving no doubt as to who has been fired at. + +Fired at, and fortunately missed; for neither feels hurt nor hit! + +But the danger is not yet over. Quick following the first comes a +second volley, and again with like result. Bad marksmen are they who +design doing murder. + +It is the last round of shots. In all likelihood, the pistols of the +assassins are double-barrelled, and both barrels have been discharged. +Before they can reload them, Harry Blew, with his _Crusaders_, has come +up, and it is too late for De Lara and his confederates to use the +steel. + +Crozier and Cadwallader bound forward; and placing themselves at the +head of the boat's crew, advance toward the shadowed spot. They go with +a rush, resolved on coming to close quarters with their dastardly +assailants, and bringing the affair to a speedy termination. + +But it is over already, to their surprise, as also chagrin. On reaching +the wall, they find nothing there save stones and timber! The dark +space for an instant illuminated by the pistol-flashes, has resumed its +grim obscurity. The assassins have got away, escaping the chastisement +they would surely have received had they stood their ground. + +Some figures are seen in the distance, scuttling along a narrow lane. +Cadwallader brings his pistol to bear on them, his finger upon the +trigger. But it may not be they; and stayed by the uncertainty, he +refrains from firing. + +"Let them go!" counsels Crozier. "'Twould be no use looking for them +now. Their crime will keep till morning; and since we know their names, +it'll be strange if we can't find them; though not so strange if we +should fail to get them punished. But that they shall be, if there's a +semblance of law to be found in San Francisco. Now, thanks, my brave +_Crusaders_! And there's a hundred pound note to be divided among you. +Small reward for the saving of two lives, with a large sum of money. +Certainly, had you not turned up so opportunely--But, Harry, how come +you to be here? Never mind now! Let us get on board! and you, Blew, +must go with us. It'll do you no harm to spend one more night on your +old ship. There you can tell me all." + +Harry joyfully complies with a requisition so much to his mind; and, +instead of tossing discontentedly on a couch of wet sand, he that night +sleeps soundly in his old bunk in the frigate's forepeak. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. + +A NEGLECTED DWELLING. + +A Country-House some ten miles from San Francisco, in a south-westerly +direction. It stands inland about half-way between the Bay and the +Pacific shore, among the Coast Range hills. + +Though a structure of mud-brick--the sort made by the Israelites in +Egypt--and with no pretension to architectural style, it is, in +Californian parlance, a _hacienda_. For it is the headquarters of a +grazing estate; but not one of the first-class, either in stock or +appointments. In these respects, it was once better off than now; since +now it is less than second, showing signs of decay everywhere, but +nowhere so much as in the dwelling itself, and the enclosures around. +Its walls are weather-washed, here and there cracked and crumbling; the +doors have had no paint for years, and opening or shutting, creak upon +hinges thickly-coated with rust. Its _corrals_ contain no cattle, nor +are any to be seen upon the pastures outside. In short, the estate +shows as if it had an absentee owner, or none at all. + +And the house might appear uninhabited, but for some _peons_ seen +sauntering listlessly around, and a barefoot damsel or two, standing +dishevelled by its door, or in the kitchen kneeling over the _metate_, +and squeezing out maize-dough for the eternal _tortillas_. + +However, despite its neglected appearance, the _hacienda_ has an owner; +and with all their indolence, the lounging _leperoa_ outside, and +slatternly wenches within, have a master. He is not often at home, but +when he is they address him as "Don Faustino." Servants rarely add the +surname. + +Only at rare intervals do his domestics see him. He spends nearly all +his time elsewhere--most of it in Yerba Buena, now named San Francisco. +And of late more than ever has he absented himself from his ancestral +halls; for the _hacienda_ is the house in which he was born; it, with +the surrounding pasture-land, left him by his father, some time +deceased. + +Since coming into possession, he has neglected his patrimony; indeed, +spent the greater portion of it on cards, and evil courses of other +kinds; for the _dueno_ of the ill-conditioned dwelling is Faustino +Calderon. + +As already hinted, his estate is heavily mortgaged, the house almost a +ruin. In his absence, it looks even more like one; for then his +domestics, having nothing to do, are scarce ever seen outside, to give +the place an appearance of life. Fond of cards as their master, they +may at most times be observed, squatted upon the pavement of the inner +court, playing _monte_ on a spread blanket, with copper _clacos_ staked +upon the game. + +When the _dueno_ is at home, things are a little different; for, Don +Faustino, with all his dissipation, is anything but an indulgent master. +Then his _muchuchos_ have to move about, and wait upon him with +assiduity. If they don't, they will hear _carajos_ from his lips, and +receive cuts from his riding-whip. + +It is the morning after that night when the "El Dorado" _monte_ bank +suspended play and pay; the time, six o'clock a.m. Notwithstanding the +early hour, the domestics are stirring about the place, as if they had +something to do, and were doing it. To one acquainted with their usual +habits, the brisk movement will be interpreted as a sure sign that their +master is at home. + +And he is; though he has been there but a very short while--only a few +minutes. Absent for more than a week, he has this morning made his +appearance just as the day was breaking. Not alone; but in the company +of a gentleman, whom all the servants know to be his intimate friend and +associate--Don Francisco de Lara. + +The two have come riding up to the house in haste, dropped the bridles +on the necks of their horses, and, without saying a word, left these to +the care of a couple of grooms, rudely roused from their slumber. + +The house-servants, lazily drawing the huge door of the _saguan_, see +that the _dueno_ is in ill-humour, which stirs them into activity; and +in haste, they prepare the repast called for--_desayuno_. + +Having entered and taken seats, Don Faustino and his guest await the +serving of the meal. + +For some time in silence, each with an elbow rested on the table, a hand +supporting his head, the fingers buried in his hair. + +The silence is at length broken; the host, as it should be, speaking +first. + +"What had we best do, De Lara? I don't think 'twill be safe staying +here. After what's happened, they're sure to come after us." + +"That's probable enough. _Caspita_! I'm puzzled to make out how that +fellow who called out our names could have known we were there. +`_Crusaders_' he said they were; which means they were sailors belonging +to the English warship. Of course the boat's crew that was waiting. +But what brought them up; and how came they to arrive there and then, +just in the nick of time to spoil our plans? That's a mystery to me." + +"To me, too." + +"There were no sailors hanging about the hotel that I saw; nor did we +encounter any as we went through the streets. Besides, if we had, they +couldn't have passed us, and then come on from the opposite side, +without our seeing them--dark as it was. 'Tis enough to make me believe +in second-sight." + +"That appears the only way to explain it." + +"Yes; but it won't, and don't. I've been thinking of another +explanation, more conformable to the laws of nature." + +"What?" + +"That there's been somebody under that old boat. We stood talking there +like four fools, calling out one another's names. Now, suppose one of +those sailors was waiting by the boat as we came along, and seeing us, +crept under it? He could have heard everything we said; and slipping +off, after we went to the wall, might have brought up the rest of the +accursed crew. The thing seems odd; at the same time it's possible +enough, and probable too." + +"It is; and now you speak of it. I remember something. While we were +under the wall, I fancied I saw a man crouching along the water's edge, +as if going away from the boat." + +"You did?" + +"I'm almost certain I did. At the time, I thought nothing of it, as we +were watching for the other two; and I had no suspicion of any one else +being about. Now, I believe there was one." + +"And now, I believe so too. _Carramba_! that accounts for everything. +I see it all. That's how the sailor got our names, and knew all about +our design--that to do--_murder_! You needn't start at the word, nor +turn pale. But you may at the prospect before us. _Carrai_! we're in +danger, Calderon;--no mistake about it. Why the devil didn't you tell +me of it--at the time you saw that man?" + +"Because, as I've said, I had no thought it could be any one connected +with them." + +"Well, your thoughtlessness has got us into a fix indeed--the worst I've +ever been in, and I can remember a few. No use to think about duelling +now, whoever might be challenger. Instead of seconds, they'd meet us +with a posse of sheriff's officers. Likely enough they'll be setting +them after us before this. Although I feel sure our bullets didn't hit +either, it'll be just as bad. The attempt will tell against us all the +same. Therefore, it won't do to stay here. So direct your servants not +to unsaddle. We'll need to be off, soon as we've swallowed a cup of +chocolate." + +A call from Don Faustino brings one of his domestics to the door; then a +word or two sends him off with the order for keeping the horses in hand. + +"_Chingara_!" fiercely exclaims De Lara, striking the table with his +shut fist, "everything has gone against us." + +"Everything, indeed. Our money lost, our love made light of, our +revenge baffled--" + +"No, not the last! Have no fear, Faustino. That's still to come." + +"How?" + +"How I you ask, do you?" + +"I do. I can't see what way we can get it now. You know the English +officers will be gone in a day or two. Their ship is to sail soon. +Last night there was talk in the town that she might leave at any +moment--to-morrow, or it may be this very day." + +"Let her go, and them with her. The sooner the better for us. That +won't hinder me from the revenge I intend taking. On the contrary, +'twill help me. Ha! I shall strike this Crozier in his tenderest part! +and you can do the same for Senor Cadwallader." + +"In what way?" + +"Faustino Calderon, I won't call you a fool, notwithstanding your +behaviour last night. But you ask some very silly questions, and that's +one of them. Supposing these _gringos_ gone from here, does it follow +they'll take everything along with them? Can you think of nothing they +must needs leave behind?" + +"Their hearts. Is that what you mean?" + +"No, it isn't." + +"What then?" + +"Their sweethearts, stupid! And that brings me to what I intend telling +you--leastwise to the first chapter of it." + +"Which is!" + +"That somebody else is going away, too." + +"Who?" + +"Don Gregorio Montijo!" + +"Don Gregorio Montijo?" + +"Don Gregorio, daughter and grand-daughter." + +"You astonish me! But are they leaving California for good?" + +"Leaving it for good." + +"That is strange intelligence, startling! Though I can understand the +reason; that's well known." + +"Oh, yes; the Don's disgusted with things as they now go here; and I +suppose the senoritas are also. No wonder. Since these ragged and +red-shirted gentry have taken possession of the place, it's not very +agreeable for ladies to show themselves about; nor very safe, I should +say. Good reason for Don Gregorio selling out, and betaking himself to +quieter quarters." + +"He has sold out, has he?" + +"He has." + +"You're sure of it?" + +"Quite sure. Rafael Rocas has told me all about it. And for an +enormous sum of money. How much do you suppose?" + +"Perhaps 100,000 dollars. His property ought to be worth that." + +"Whether it ought to be, or is, it has realised three times the amount." + +"_Carramba_! Has Rocas said so?" + +"He has." + +"Has he told you who the generous purchaser is?" + +"Some speculating Yankees, who fancy they see far into the future, and +think Don Gregorio's pasture-land a good investment. There's a +partnership of purchasers, I believe, and they've paid the money down, +in cash." + +"Already! What kind of cash?" + +"The best kind--doubloons and dollars. Not all in coin. Some of it in +the currency of California--gold-dust and nuggets." + +"That's quite as good. _Santissima_! a splendid fortune. All for a +piece of pasture-land, that twelve months ago wasn't worth a tenth part +the amount! What a pity my own acres are already hypothecated! I might +have been a millionaire." + +"No! your land lies too far-off. These Yankees have bought Don +Gregorio's land for `town-lots,' as they call them. In due time, no +doubt, they'll cover them with their psalm-singing churches and +schoolhouses--though the first building put up should be a prison." + +Both laugh together at this modest _jeu d'esprit_; their mirth having a +double significance. For neither need be over-satisfied with the sight +of a prison. + +"By the Virgin!" exclaims Calderon, continuing the conversation; "Don +Gregorio has done well, and he may be wise in quitting California. But +what the devil are we to do about the girls? Of course, as you say, +they're going to!" + +"And so it may be. But not before another event takes place--one that +may embarrass, and delay, if it do not altogether prevent their +departure." + +"_Amigo_; you talk enigmatically. Will you oblige me by speaking +plainer?" + +"I will; but not till we've had our chocolate, and after it a _copita_ +of Catalan. I need a little alcohol to get my brain in working order; +for there's work for it to do. Enough now to tell you I've had a +revelation. A good angel--or it may be a bad one--has visited me, and +given it. A vision which shows me at the same time riches and revenge-- +pointing the straight way to both." + +"Has the vision shown that I'm to be a sharer in these fine things?" + +"It has; and you shall be. But only in proportion as you may prove +yourself worthy." + +"_Por Dios_! I'll do my best. I have the will, if you'll only instruct +me in the way." + +"I'll do that. But I warn you, 'twill need more than will--strength, +secrecy, courage, determination." + +"_Desayuno, senores_!" + +This from one of the domestics announcing the chocolate served. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. + +MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATIONS. + +A few moments suffice the ruined gamblers for their slight matutinal +repast. After which, a decanter of Catalonian brandy and glasses are +placed upon the table, with a bundle of Manilla cheroots, size number +one. + +While the glasses are being filled, and the cigars lighted, there is +silence. Then Calderon calls upon his guest to impart the particulars +of that visionary revelation, which promises to give them, at the same +time, riches and revenge. + +Taking a sip of the potent spirit, and a puff or two at his cigar, De +Lara responds to the call. But first leaning across the table, and +looking his confederate straight in the face, he asks, in an odd +fashion-- + +"Are you a bankrupt, Faustino Calderon?" + +"Of course I am. Why do you put the question?" + +"Because I want to be sure, before making known to you the scheme I've +hinted at. As I've told you, I'm after no child's play. I ask again, +_are_ you a bankrupt?" + +"And I answer you I _am_. But what has that to do with it?" + +"A good deal. Never mind. You _are_ one? You assure me of it?" + +"I do. I'm as poor as yourself, if not poorer, after last night's +losses. I'd embarked all my money in the Monte concern." + +"But you have something besides money? This house and your lands?" + +"Mortgaged--months ago--up to the eyes, the ears, crown of the head. +That's where the cash came from to set up the bank that's broke-- +breaking me along with it." + +"And you've nothing left? No chance for starting it again?" + +"Not a _claco_. Here I am apparently in my own house, with servants, +such as they are, around me. It's all in appearance. In reality, I'm +not the owner. I once was, as my father before me; but can't claim to +be any longer. Even while we're sitting here, drinking this Catalan, +the mortgagee--that old usurer Martinez--may step in and turn--kick us +both out." + +"I'd like him to try. He'd catch a Tartar, if he attempted to kick me +out--he or anybody else just now, in my present humour. There's far +more reason for us to fear being pulled out by policemen, which makes it +risky to stay talking. So let's to the point at once--back to where we +left off. On your oath, Faustino Calderon, you're no longer a man of +means?" + +"On my oath, Francisco de Lara, I haven't an _onza_ left--no, not a +_peso_." + +"Enough. Now that I know your financial status, we will understand one +another; and without further circumlocution I shall make you a sharer of +the bright thought that's flashed across my brain." + +"Let me hear what it is. I'm all impatience." + +"Not so fast, Faustino. As I've already twice told you, it's no child's +play; but a business that requires skill and courage. Above all, +fidelity among those who may engage in it--for more than two are needed. +It will want at least four good and true men. I know three of them; +about the fourth I'm not so certain." + +"Who are the three?" + +"Francisco de Lara, Manuel Diaz, and Raphael Rocas." + +"And the fourth, of whom you are dubious?" + +"Faustino Calderon." + +"Why do you doubt me, De Lara?" + +"Don't call it doubting. I only say I'm not certain about you." + +"But for what reason?" + +"Because you may be squeamish, or get scared. Not that there's much +real danger. There mayn't be any, if the thing's cleverly managed. But +there must be no bungling; and, above all, no backing out--nothing like +treason." + +"Can't you trust me so far as to give a hint of your scheme? As to my +being squeamish, I think, De Lara, you do me injustice to suppose such a +thing. The experience of the last twenty-four hours has made a serious +change in my way of viewing matters of morality. A man who has lost his +all, and suddenly sees himself a beggar, isn't disposed to be sensitive. +Come, _camarado_! tell me, and try me." + +"I intend doing both, but not just yet. It's an affair that calls for +certain formalities, among them some _swearing_. Those who embark in it +must be bound by a solemn oath; and when we all get together, that shall +be done. Time enough then for you to know what I'm aiming at. Now, I +only say, that if the scheme succeed, two things are sure, and both +concern yourself, Faustino Calderon." + +"What are they? You can trust me with that much, I suppose?" + +"Certainly I can, and shall. The first is, that you'll be a richer man +than you've ever been in your life, or at least since I've had the +honour of your acquaintance. The second, that Don Gregorio Montijo will +not leave California--that is, not quite so soon, nor altogether in the +way he was wishing. You may have plenty of time yet, with +opportunities, to press your suit with the fair Inez." + +"_Carramba_! Secure me that, and I swear--" + +"You needn't set about swearing yet. You can do that when the occasion +calls for it; and, I promise, you shall have the opportunity soon. Till +then I'll take your word. With one in love, as you believe yourself, +that should be binding as any oath; especially when it promises such a +rich reward." + +"You're sure about Diaz and Rocas?" + +"Quite so. With them there won't be need for any prolonged conference. +When a man sees the chance of getting sixty thousand dollars in a lump +lot, he's pretty certain to act promptly, and without being particular +as to what that action is." + +"Sixty thousand dollars! That's to be the share of each?" + +"That, and more, maybe." + +"It makes one crazy--even to think of such a sum!" + +"Don't go crazed till you've got it; then you may." + +"If I do, it won't be with grief." + +"It shouldn't; since it will give you a fresh lease of sweet life; and +renew your hopes of having the wife you want. But come; we must get +away if we wish to avoid being taken away--though, I fancy, there's +nothing to apprehend for some hours yet. The _gringos_ have gone on +board their ship, and are not likely to come on shore again before +breakfast. What with their last night's revelry, it'll take them some +time to clear the cobwebs out of their eyes after waking up. Besides, +if they should make it a law matter, there'll be all the business of +looking up warrants, and the like. They do such things rather slowly in +San Francisco. Then there's the ten miles out here; even if they strike +our trail straight. No; we needn't be in a hurry so far as that goes. +But the other's a thing that won't keep, and must be set about at once. +Fortunately, the road that takes us to a place of concealment, is the +same we have to travel upon business; and that is to the rancho of +Rocas. There I've appointed to meet Diaz, who'd have come with us here, +but that he preferred staying all night in the town. But he'll be here +betimes, and we can all remain with old Rafael till this ugly wind blows +past; which it will in a week, or soon as the English ship sails off. +If not, we must keep out of sight a little longer, or leave San +Francisco for good." + +"I hope we'll not be forced to that. I shouldn't at all like to leave +it." + +"Like it or not, you may have no choice. And what does it signify where +a man lives, so long as he's got sixty thousand dollars to live on?" + +"True; that ought to make any place pleasant." + +"Well; I tell you you'll have it--maybe more. But not if we stand +palavering here. _Nos vamos_!" + +A call from Calderon summoned a servant, who is directed to have the +horses brought to the door. + +These soon appear, under the guidance of two ragged grooms; who, +delivering them, see their masters mount and ride off they know not +whither; nor care they so long as they are themselves left to idleness, +with a plentiful supply of black beans, jerked-meat, and _monte_. + +Soon the two horsemen disappear behind a ridge of hills; and the +hypothecated house resumes its wonted look of desolation. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT. + +A CONVERSATION WITH QUADRUMANA. + +Notwithstanding his comfortable quarters in the frigate's forecastle, +Harry Blew is up by early daybreak, and off from the ship before six +bells have sounded. + +Ere retiring to rest, he had communicated to his patron, Crozier, a full +account of his zigzag wanderings through the streets of San Francisco, +and how he came to bring the cutter's crew to the rescue. + +As neither of the young officers is on the early morning watch, but both +still abed, he does not wait their rising. For, knowing that the adage, +"First come, first served," is often true, he is anxious as soon as +possible to present himself at the office of the agent Silvestre, and +from him get directions for going on board the Chilian ship. He is +alive to the hint given him by Crozier, that there may be a chance of +his being made a mate. + +As yet he does not even know the name of the vessel, but that he will +learn at the office, as also where she is tying. + +His request to the lieutenant on duty for a boat to set him ashore, is +at once and willingly granted. No officer on that frigate would refuse +Harry Blew; and the dingy is placed at his service. + +In this he is conveyed to the wooden pier, whose planking he treads with +heavier step, but lighter heart, than when, on the night before, he ran +along it in quest of _Crusaders_. With weightier purse too, as he +carries a hundred pound Bank of England note in the pocket of his +pea-jacket--a parting gift from the generous Crozier--besides a number +of gold pieces received from Cadwallader, as the young Welshman's share +of gratitude for the service done them. + +Thus amply provided, he might proceed at once to the "Sailor's Home," +and bring away his embargoed property. + +He does not; thinking it better first to see about the berth on the +Chilian ship; and therefore he steers direct for the agent's office. + +Though it is still early, by good luck, Don Tomas chances to be already +at his desk; to whom Harry hands the card given him by Crozier, at the +same time declaring the purpose for which he has presented himself. + +In return, he receives from Silvestre instructions to report himself on +board the Chilian ship, _El Condor_; Don Tomas furnishing him with a +note of introduction to her captain, and pointing out the vessel--which +is visible from the door, and at no great distance off. + +"Captain Lantanas is coming ashore," adds the agent; "I expect him in +the course of an hour. By waiting here, you can see him, and it will +save you boat-hire." + +But Harry Blew will not wait. He remembers the old saying about +procrastination, and is determined there shall be no mishap through +negligence on his part, or niggardliness about a bit of a boat-fare. He +has made up his mind to be the _Condor's_ first mate--if he can. + +Nor is it altogether ambition that prompts him to seek the office so +earnestly. A nobler sentiment inspires him--the knowledge that, in this +capacity, he may be of more service, and better capable of affording +protection, to the fair creatures whom Crozier has committed to his +charge. + +The watermen of San Francisco do not ply their oars gratuitously. Even +the shabbiest of shore-boats, hired for the shortest time, exacts a +stiffish fare. It will cost Harry Blew a couple of dollars to be set +aboard the _Condor_, though she is lying scarce three cables' length +from the shore! + +What cares he for that? It is nothing now. + +Hailing the nearest skiff with a waterman in it, he points to the +Chilian ship, saying: + +"Heave along, lad; an' put me aboard o' yonder craft--that one as shows +the three-colour bit o' bunting wi' a single star in the blue. The +sooner ye do your job, the better ye'll get paid for it." + +A contract on such conditions is usually entered into with alacrity, and +with celerity carried out. The boatman beaches his tiny craft, takes in +his fare, and in less than ten minutes' time Harry Blew swarms up the +man-ropes of the Chilian ship, strides over the rail, and drops down +upon her deck. + +He looks around, but sees no one--at least nothing in the shape of a +sailor. Only an old negro, with skin black as a boot, and crow-footed +all over the face, standing beside two singular creatures nearly as +human-like as himself, but covered with fox-coloured hair! + +The ex-man-o'-war's man is for a time in doubt as to which of the three +he should address himself. In point of intelligence there seems not +much to choose. However, he with the black skin cuts short his +hesitation by stepping forward, and saying: + +"Well, mass'r sailor-man, wha' you come for? S'pose you want see de +cappen? I'se only de cook." + +"Oh, you're only the cook, are you? Well, old caboose; you've made a +correct guess about my bizness. It's the capten I do want to see." + +"All right. He down in de cabin. You wait hya. I fotch 'im up less'n +no time!" + +The old darkey shuffling aft, disappears down the companion-way, leaving +Harry with the two monstrous-looking creatures, whom he has now made out +to be orang-outangs. + +"Well, mates!" says the sailor, addressing them in a jocular way, "what +be your opeenyun o' things in general? D'ye think the wind's goin' to +stay sou'-westerly, or shift roun' to the nor'-eastart?" + +"Cro--cro--croak!" + +"Oh, hang it, no. I ain't o' the croakin' sort. Ha'n't ye got nothin' +more sensible than that to say to me!" + +"Kurra--kra--kra. Cro--cro--croak!" + +"No; I won't do anythink o' the kind; leastways, unless there turns out +to be short commons 'board this eer craft. Then I'll croak, an' no +mistake. But I say, old boys, how 'bout the grog? Reg'lar allowance, I +hope--three tots a day?" + +"Na--na--na--na--na--boof! Ta--ta--ta--fuff!" + +"No! only two, ye say! Ah! that won't do for me. For ye see, +shipmates--I s'pose I shall be callin' ye so--'board the old _Crusader_, +I've been 'customed to have my rum reg'lar, three times the day; an' if +it ain't same on the _Condor_, in the which I'm 'bout to ship, then, +shiver my spars! if I don't raise sich a rumpus as--" + +"Kurra--kurra--cro--cro--croak! Na--na--na--boof--ta--ta--pf--pf-- +piff!" + +The sailor's voice is drowned by the gibbering of the orangs, his +gesture of mock-menace, with the semi-serious look that accompanied it, +having part frightened, part infuriated them. + +The fracas continues, until the darkey returns on deck followed by the +skipper; when the cook takes charge of the _quadrumana_, drawing them +off to his caboose. + +Captain Lantanas, addressing himself to the sailor, asks: "_Un +marinero_?" [A seaman.] + +"_Si, capitan_." [Yes, captain.] + +"_Que negocio tienes V. commigo_?" [What is your business with me?] + +"Well, capten," responds Harry Blew, speaking the language of the +Chilian, in a tolerably intelligent _patois_, "I've come to offer my +sarvices to you. I've brought this bit o' paper from Master Silvestre; +it'll explain things better'n I can." + +The captain takes the note handed to him, and breaks open the envelope. +A smile irradiates his sallow face as he makes himself acquainted with +its contents. + +"At last a sailor!" he mutters to himself; for Harry is the only one who +has yet offered. "And a good one too," thinks Captain Lantanas, bending +his eyes on the ex-man-o'-war's man, and scanning him from head to foot. + +But, besides personal inspection, he has other assurance of the good +qualities of the man before him; at a late hour on the night before he +held a communication with Don Gregorio, who has recommended him. The +haciendado had reported what Crozier said, that Harry Blew was an able +seaman, thoroughly trustworthy, and competent to take charge of a ship, +either as first or second officer. + +With Crozier's endorsement thus vicariously conveyed, the +ex-man-o'-war's man has no need to say a word for himself. Nor does +Captain Lantanas call for it. He only puts some professional questions, +less inquisitorially than as a matter of form. + +"The Senor Silvestre advises me that you wish to serve in my ship. Can +you take a lunar?" + +"Well, capten; I hev squinted through a quadrant afores now, an' can +take a sight; tho' I arn't much up to loonars. But if there's a good +chronometer aboard, I won't let a ship run very far out of her +reck'nin'." + +"You can keep a log-book, I suppose?" + +"I dare say I can. I've larned to write, so 'st might be read; though +my fist ain't much to be bragged about." + +"That will do," rejoins the skipper, contentedly. "Now, Senor Enrique-- +I see that's your name--answer me in all candour. Do you think you are +capable of acting as _piloto_?" + +"By that you mean mate, I take it?" + +"Yes; it is _piloto_ in Spanish." + +"Well, capten; 'tain't for me to talk big o' myself. But I've been over +thirty year 'board a British man-o'-war--more'n one o' 'em--an' if I +wan't able to go mate in a merchanter, I ought to be condemned to be +cook's scullion for the rest o' my days. If your honour thinks me +worthy o' bein' made first officer o' the _Condor_, I'll answer for it +she won't stray far out o' her course while my watch be on." + +"_Bueno_! Senor Enrique--B--blee. What is it?" asks the Chilian, +re-opening the note, and vainly endeavouring to pronounce the Saxon +surname. + +"Blew--Harry Blew." + +"Ah, Bloo--_azul, esta_?" + +"No, capten. Not that sort o' blue. In Spanish, my name has a +different significance. It means, as we say o' a gale after it's blowed +past--it `blew.' When it's been a big un, we say it `blew great guns.' +Now ye understan'?" + +"Yes; perfectly. Well, Senor Bloo, to come to an understanding about +the other matter. I'm willing to take you as my first officer, if you +don't object to the wages I intend offering you--fifty dollars a month, +and everything found." + +"I'm agreeable to the tarms." + +"_Basta_! When will it be convenient for you to enter in your duties?" + +"For that matter, this minute. I only need to go ashore to get my kit. +When that's stowed, I'll be ready to tackle on to work." + +"_Muy bien_! senor; you can take my boat for it. And if you see any +sailors who want to join, I authorise you to engage them at double the +usual wages. I wish to get away as soon as a crew can be shipped. But +when you come back we'll talk more about it. Call at Senor Silvestre's +office, and tell him he needn't look for me till a later hour. Say I've +some business that detains me aboard. _Hasta Luego_!" + +Thus courteously concluding, the Chilian skipper returns to his cabin, +leaving the newly appointed _piloto_ free to look after his own affairs. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. + +THE "BLUE-PETER." + +The ex-man-o'-war's man, now first officer of a merchant-vessel, and +provided with a boat of his own, orders off the skiff he has kept in +waiting, after tossing into it two dollars--the demanded fare. Then +slipping down into the _Condor's_ gig, sculls himself ashore. + +Leaving his boat at the pier, he first goes to the office of the +ship-agent, and delivers the message entrusted to him. + +After that, contracting with a truckman, he proceeds to the "Sailor's +Home," releases his _impedimenta_, and starts back to embark them in his +boat. But not before giving the bar-keeper, as also the Boniface, of +that establishment, a bit of his mind. + +Spreading before their eyes the crisp hundred pound note, which as yet +he has not needed to break, he says tauntingly: + +"Take a squint at that, ye land-lubbers! There's British money for ye. +An' tho' it be but a bit o' paper it's worth more than your gold-dross, +dollar for dollar. How'd ye like to lay your ugly claws on't! Ah! +you're a pair of the most dastardly shore-sharks I've met in all my +cruzins; but ye'll never have Harry Blew in your grups again." + +Saying this, he thrusts the bank-note back into his pocket; then paying +them a last reverence with mock-politeness, and giving a twitch of his +trousers, he starts after the truckman, already _en route_ with his kit. + +In accordance with the wishes of Captain Lantanas, he stays a little +longer in the town, trying to pick up sailors. There are plenty of +these sauntering along the streets and lounging at the doors of +drinking-saloons. + +But even double wages will not tempt them to abandon their free-and-easy +life; and the _Condor's_ first officer is forced to the conclusion, that +he must return to the ship _solus_. + +Assisted by the truckman, he gets his traps into the gig; and is about +to step in himself, when his eye chances to turn upon the _Crusader_. +There he sees something to surprise him--the _Blue-Peter_. The frigate +has out signals for sailing! and he wonders at this; for there was no +word of it when he was aboard. He knew, as all the others, that she was +to sail soon--it might be in a day or two. But not as the signal +indicates,--almost immediately! + +While conjecturing what may be the cause of such hasty departure, he +sees something that partly explains it. Three or four cables' length +from the frigate is another ship, over whose taffrail floats the flag of +England. At a glance, the ex-man-o'-war's man can tell her to be a +corvette; at the same time recalling what, the night before, he has +heard upon the frigate: that the coming of the corvette would be the +signal for the _Crusader's_ sailing. + +While his heart warms to the flag thus doubly displayed in the harbour +of San Francisco, it is a little saddened to see the other signal--the +"Blue-Peter;" since it tells him he may not have an opportunity to take +a more formal leave of his friends of the frigate, which he designed +doing. He longs to make known to Mr Crozier and the midshipman the +result of his application to the captain of the Chilian ship, and +receive the congratulations of the young officers on his success; but +now it may be impossible to communicate with them, by the _Crusader_ so +soon leaving port. + +He has half a mind to put off for the frigate in the _Condor's_ gig, +into which he has got. But Captain Lantanas might, meanwhile, be +wanting both him and the boat. + +All at once, in the midst of his dilemma, he sees that which promises to +help him out of it,--a small boat putting off from the frigate's sides, +and heading right for the pier. + +As it draws nearer, he can tell it to be the dingy. + +There are three men in it--two rowers and a steersman. + +As it approaches the pier-head, Harry recognises the one in the +stern-sheets, whose bright ruddy face is turned towards him. + +"Thank the Lord for such good luck!" he mutters. "It's Mr +Cadwallader!" + +By this the dingy has drawn near enough for the midshipman to see and +identify him; which he does, exclaiming in joyful surprise: + +"By Jove! it's Blew himself! Hallo there, Harry! You're just the man +I'm coming ashore to see. Hold, starboard oar! Port oar, a stroke or +two! Way enough!" + +In a few seconds, the dingy is bow on to the gig; when Harry, seizing +hold of it, brings the two boats side by side, and steadies them. + +"Glad to see ye again, Master Willie. I'd just sighted the frigate's +signal for sailin', an' despaired o' havin' the chance to say a last +word to yourself, or Mr Crozier." + +"Well, old boy; it's about that I've come ashore. Jump out; and walk +with me a bit along the wharf." + +The sailor drops his oar, and springs out upon the pier, the young +officer preceding him. + +When sufficiently distant from the boats to be beyond earshot of the +oarsmen, Cadwallader resumes speech: + +"Harry; here's a letter from Mr Crozier. He wants you to deliver it at +the address you'll find written upon it. To save you the necessity of +inquiring, I can point out the place it's to go to. Look along shore. +You see a house--yonder on the top of the hill?" + +"Sartinly, I see it, Master Willie; and know who lives theer. Two o' +the sweetest creeturs in all Californey. I s'pose the letter be for one +o' them?" + +"No, it isn't, you dog; for neither of them. Read the superscription. +You see it's addressed to a gentleman?" + +"Oh! it's for the guv'nor hisself," rejoins Harry, taking the letter, +and running his eye over the direction--Don Gregorio Montijo. "All +right, sir. I'll put it in the old gentleman's flippers safe an' sure. +Do you want me to go with it now, sir?" + +"Well, as soon as you conveniently can; though there's no need for +helter-skelter haste, since there wouldn't be time for an answer, +anyhow. In twenty minutes we'll weigh anchor, and be off. I've hurried +ashore to see you, hoping to find you at the ship-agent's office. How +fortunate my stumbling on you here! For now I can better tell you +what's wanted. In that letter, there's something that concerns Mr +Crozier and myself--matters of importance to us both. When you've given +it to Don Gregorio, he'll no doubt ask you some questions about what +happened last night. Tell him all you know; except that you needn't say +anything of Mr Crozier and myself having taken a little too much +champagne--which we did. You understand, old boy?" + +"Perfectly, Master Will." + +"Good. Now Harry; I haven't another moment to stay. See! The ship's +beginning to spread canvas! If I don't get back directly, I may be left +here in California, never to rise above the rank of reefer. Oh! by the +way, you'll be pleased to know that your friend Mr Crozier is now a +lieutenant. His commission arrived by the corvette that came in last +night. He told me to tell you, and I'd nearly forgotten it." + +"I'm glad to hear it," rejoins the sailor, raising the hat from his +head, and giving a subdued cheer; "right gled; an', maybe, he'll be the +same, hearin' Harry Blew's been also promoted. I'm now first mate o' +the Chili ship, Master Willie." + +"Hurrah! I congratulate you on your good luck. I'm delighted to know +that, and so will he be. We may hope some day to see you a full-fledged +skipper, commanding your own craft. Now, you dear old salt, don't +forget to look well after the girls. Again, good-bye, and God bless +you!" + +A squeeze of hands, with lingers entwined, tight as a reef-knot--then +relaxed with reluctance--after which they separate. The mid, jumping +into the dingy, is rowed back towards the _Crusader_; while Harry +re-hires the truckman; but now only to stay by, and take care of his +boat, till he can return to it, after executing the errand entrusted to +him. Snug as his new berth promises to be, he would rather lose it than +fail to deliver that letter. + +And in ten minutes after, he has passed through the suburbs of the town, +and is hastening along the shore-road, towards the house of Don Gregorio +Montijo. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY. + +DREADING A "DESAFIO." + +Once more upon the _azotea_ stand Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez. + +It is the morning of the day succeeding that made sacred by their +betrothal. Their eyes are upon the huge warship, that holds the men who +holds their hearts, with promise of their hands--in short, every hope of +their life's happiness. + +They could be happy now, but for an apprehension which oppresses them-- +causing them keen anxiety. Yesterday, with its scenes of pleasureable +excitement, had also its incidents of the opposite kind; the remembrance +of which too vividly remains, and is not to be got rid of. The +encounter between the gamblers and their lovers cannot end with that +episode, to which they were themselves witness. Something more will +surely come from it. + +And what will this something be? What should it? What could it, but a +_desafio_--a duel? + +However brave on yester-morn the two senoritas were, or pretended to be, +however regardless of consequences, it is different to-day. The +circumstances have changed. Then, their sweethearts were only suitors. +Now, they are affianced, still standing in the relationship of lovers, +but with ties more firmly, if not more tenderly, united. For are they +not now their own. + +Of the two girls, Inez is less anxious than the aunt, having less cause +to be. With the observant intelligence of woman, she has long since +seen that Calderon is a coward, and for this reason has but little +belief he will fight. With instinct equally keen, Carmen knows De Lara +well. After his terrible humiliation, he is not the man to shrink away +out of sight. Blackleg though he be, he possesses courage--perhaps the +only quality he has deserving of admiration. Once, she herself admired +the quality, if not the man! That remembrance itself makes her fear +what may come. + +She talks in serious tone, discussing with her niece the probabilities +of what may arise. The delirious joy of yester-eve--of that hour when +she sat in her saddle, looking over the ocean, and listening to the +sweet words of love--is to-day succeeded by depression, almost +despondency. + +While conversing, she has her eyes upon the bay, watching the boats +that, at intervals, are rowed off from the warship, fearing to recognise +in one the form of him so dear. Fearing it; for they know that her +lover is not likely to be ashore again, and his coming now could only be +on that errand she, herself, so much dreads--the duel. Duty should +retain him on his, the young officer's, ship, but honour may require him +once more to visit the shore--perhaps never to leave it alive! + +Thus gloomily reflects Carmen, imparting her fears to the less +frightened Inez; though she too is not without apprehension. If they +but understood the "Code of Signals," all this misery would be spared +them. Since from the frigate's main-royal masthead floats a blue flag, +with a white square in its centre, which is a portent she will soon +spread her sails, and glide off out of sight--carrying their _amantes_ +beyond all danger of duels, or shore-scrapes of any kind. + +They observe the "Blue-Peter," but without knowing aught of its +significance. They do not even try to interpret, or think of it; their +thoughts, as their eyes, concentrated upon the boats that pass between +ship and shore. + +One at length specially arrests their attention, and keeps it for some +time fixed. A small craft that, leaving the ship, is steered direct for +the town. It passes near enough for them to see there are three men in +it; two of them rowing, the other in the stern--this last in the uniform +of an officer. + +Love's glance is keen, and, aided by an opera-glass, it enables Inez +Alvarez to identify the officer in the stern-sheets as Don Gulielmo. +The other two--the oarsmen--are only sailors in blue serge shirts, with +wide collars, falling far back. + +For what the young officer is being rowed ashore, the ladies cannot +guess. If for fighting, they know that another, and older, officer, +would be with him. Where is Don Eduardo? + +While still conjecturing, the boat glides on towards the town, and is +lost to their view behind some sand-hills inshore. + +Their glance going back to the ship, they perceive a change in her +aspect. Her tall tapering masts, with their network of stays and +shrouds, are half-hidden behind broad sheets of canvas. The frigate is +unfurling sail! They are surprised at this, not expecting it so soon. +With the help of their glasses, they observe other movements going on +aboard the war-vessel: signal-flags running up and down their haulyards, +while boats are being hoisted to the davits. + +While still watching these manoeuvres, the little craft which carries +the midshipman again appears, shooting out from behind the sand-hills, +and rowed rapidly back to the ship, the young officer still in it. + +On reaching the great leviathan, for a short time it shows like a tiny +spot along her water-line; but, soon after, it too is lifted aloft, and +over the bulwark rail. + +Ignorant as the young ladies may be of nautical matters, they can have +no doubt as to what all this manoeuvring means. The ship is about to +sail! + +As this is an event which interests all the family, Don Gregorio, +summoned to the house-top, soon stands beside them. + +"She's going off, sure enough," he says, after sighting through one of +the glasses. "It's rather strange--so abruptly!" he adds. "Our young +friends said nothing about it last night." + +"I think they could not have known of it themselves," says Carmen. + +"I'm sure they couldn't," adds Inez. + +"What makes you sure, _nina_?" asked Don Gregorio. + +"Well--because,"--stammers out the Andalusian, a flush starting into her +cheeks--"because they'd have told us. They said they didn't expect to +sail for a day or two, anyhow." + +"Just so; but you see they're setting sail now--evidently intending to +take departure. However, I fancy I can explain it. You remember they +spoke of another warship they expected to arrive. Yonder it is! It +came into port last night, and, in all likelihood, has brought orders +for the _Crusader_ to sail at once. I only wish it was the _Condor_! I +sha'n't sleep soundly till we're safe away from--" + +"See!" interrupts Carmen; "is not that a sailor coming this way?" + +She points to a man, moving along the shore-road in the direction of the +house. + +"I think so," responds Don Gregorio, after a glance through the glass. +"He appears to be in seaman's dress." + +"Would he be coming here?" inquires Carmen, naively. + +"I shouldn't be surprised; probably with a message from our young +friends. It may be the man they recommended to me." + +"That's why somebody went ashore in the little boat," whispers Inez to +her aunt. "He's bringing us _billetitas_. I was sure they wouldn't go +away without leaving a last little word." + +Inez's speech imparts no information: for Carmen has been surmising in +the same strain. + +She replies by one of those proverbs, in which the Spanish tongue is so +rich: + +"_Silencio! hay Moros en la costa_,"--(Silence! there are Moors on the +coast). + +While this bit of by-play is being carried on, the sailor ascends the +hill, and is seen entering at the road-gate. There can now be no +uncertainty as to his calling. The blue jacket, broad shirt-collar, +round-ribboned hat, and bell-bottomed trousers, are all the unmistakable +toggery of a tar. + +Advancing up the avenue in a rolling gait, with an occasional tack from +side to side--that almost fetches him up among the manzanitas--he at +length reaches the front of the house. There stopping, and looking up +to the roof, he salutes those upon it by removing his hat giving a +back-scrape with his foot, and a pluck at one of his brow-locks. + +"_Que guieres V., senor_?"--(What is your business, sir?), asks the +haciendado, speaking down to him. + +Harry Blew--for it is he--replies by holding out a letter, at the same +time saying: + +"Your honour; I've brought this for the master o' the house." + +"I am he. Go in through that door you see below. I'll come down to +you." + +Don Gregorio descends the _escalera_, and meeting the messenger in the +inner court, receives the letter addressed to him. + +Breaking it open, he reads: + + "Estimable Sir,--Circumstances have arisen that take us away from San + Francisco sooner than we expected. The corvette that came into port + last night brought orders for the _Crusader_ to sail at once; though + our destination is the same as already known to you--the Sandwich + Islands. As the ship is about to weigh anchor, I have barely time to + write a word for myself, and Mr Cadwallader. We think it proper to + make known some circumstances which will, no doubt, cause you + surprise, as they did ourselves. Yesterday morning we met at your + house two gentlemen--as courtesy would then have required me to call + them--by name Francisco de Lara and Faustino Calderon. We encountered + them at a later hour of the day; when an occurrence took place, which + absolved us from either thinking of them as gentlemen, or treating + them as such. And still later, after leaving your hospitable roof, + we, for the third time, came across the same two individuals, under + circumstances showing them to be _professional gamblers_! In fact, we + found them to be the proprietors of a monte bank in the notorious `El + Dorado;' one of them actually engaged in dealing the cards! A spirit + of fun, with perhaps a spice of mischief, led me into the play, and + betting largely, I succeeded in breaking their bank. After that, for + a short while we lost sight of them. But as we were making our way to + the pier, where our boat was to meet us, we had a fourth interview + with these `gentlemen;' who on this occasion appeared with two others + in the character of _robbers_ and _assassins_! That they did not + succeed in either robbing or murdering us, is due to the brave fellow + who will bear this letter to you--the sailor of whom I spoke. He can + give you all the particulars of the last, and latest, encounter with + the versatile individuals, who claim acquaintance with you. You may + rely on his truthfulness. I have no time to say more. + + "Hoping to see you in Cadiz, please convey parting compliments to the + senoritas--from the Senor Cadwallader and yours faithfully, Edward + Crozier." + +The letter makes a painful impression on the mind of Don Gregorio. Not +that he is much surprised at the information regarding De Lara and +Calderon. He has heard sinister reports concerning them; of late so +loudly spoken, that he had determined on forbidding them further +intercourse with his family. That very day he has been displeased on +learning of their ill-timed visit. And now he feels chagrin at +something like a reproach conveyed by that expression in Crozier's +letter, "The versatile individuals who claim your acquaintance." It +hurts his hidalgo pride. + +Thrusting the epistle into his pocket, he questions its bearer; taking +him into his private room, as also into his confidence. + +The sailor gives him a detailed account of the attempt at murder, so +accidentally frustrated; afterwards making known other matters relating +to himself, and how he has taken service on the Chilian ship--Don +Gregorio inquiring particularly about this. + +Meanwhile, the young ladies have descended from the azotea, and the +ex-man-o'-war's man makes their acquaintance. + +They assist in showing him hospitality, loading him with pretty +presents, and knick-knacks to be carried on board the _Condor_, to which +they know he now belongs. + +As he is about to depart, they flutter around him, speaking pleasant +words, as if they expected to get something in return--those +_billetitas_. For all, he takes departure, without leaving them a +scrap! + +A pang of disappointment--almost chagrin--shoots through the soul of +Carmen, as she sees him passing out of sight. And similarly afflicted +is Inez; both reflecting alike. + +Still they have hope; there may be something enclosed for them in that +letter they saw him holding up. It seemed large enough to contain two +separate notes. And if not these, there should at least be a postscript +with special reference to themselves. + +Daughters of Eve, they are not long before approaching the subject, and +drawing Don Gregorio. + +Yes; there is something said about them in the letter. He communicates +it: + +"_Parting compliments to the senoritas_!" + + + +CHAPTER FORTY ONE. + +THE LAST LOOK. + +"Up anchor!" + +The order rings along the deck of the _Crusader_, and the men of the +watch stand by the windlass to execute it. + +That same morning, Crozier and Cadwallader, turning out of their cots, +heard with surprise the order for sending up the "Blue-Peter," as also +that the ship was to weigh anchor by twelve o'clock noon. Of course, +they were expecting it, but not so soon. However, the arrival of the +corvette explains all; an officer from the latter vessel having already +come on board the _Crusader_ with despatches from the flag-ship of the +Pacific Squadron. + +These contain orders for the frigate to set sail for the Sandwich +Islands without delay; the corvette to replace her on the San Francisco +station. + +The despatch-bearer has also brought a mail; and the _Crusader's_ people +get letters--home-news, welcome to those who have been long away from +their native land; for she has been three years cruising in the South +Sea. + +Something more than mere news several of her officers receive. In large +envelopes, addressed to them, and bearing the British Admiralty seal, +are documents of peculiar interest--commissions giving them promotion. + +Among the rest, one reaches Edward Crozier, advancing him a step in +rank. His ability as an officer has been reported at headquarters; as +also his gallant conduct in having saved a sailor's life--rescued him +from drowning--that sailor Harry Blew. In all probability this has +obtained him his promotion; but whatever the cause, he will leave San +Francisco a _lieutenant_. + +There are few officers, naval or military, who would not feel favoured +and joyous at such an event in their lives. And so might Edward Crozier +at any other time. But it has not this effect now. On the contrary, as +the white canvas is being spread above his head, there is a black shadow +upon his brow, while that of Cadwallader is alike clouded. + +It is not from any regret either feels at leaving California; but +leaving it under circumstances that painfully impress them. The +occurrences of the day before, but more those of the night, have +revealed a state of things that suggest unpleasant reflections, +especially to the new-made lieutenant. He cannot cast out of his mind +the sinister impression made upon it by the discovery that Don Francisco +De Lara--his rival for the hand of Carmen Montijo--is no other than the +notorious "Frank Lara," the keeper of a monte table in the saloon "El +Dorado!" Now that he knows it, the knowledge afflicts him, to the +laceration of his heart. No wonder at the formality of that letter +which he addressed to Don Gregorio, or the insinuation conveyed by it. +Nor strange the cold compliments with which it was concluded; far +stranger had they been warm. + +Among other unpleasant thoughts which the young officers have, on being +so soon summoned away, is that of leaving matters unsettled with Messrs. +De Lara and Calderon. Not that they have any longer either design or +desire to stand before such cut-throats in a duel, nor any shame in +shunning it. Their last encounter with the scoundrels would absolve +them from all stigma or reproach for refusing to fight them--even were +there time and opportunity. So, they need have no fear that their +honour will suffer, or that any one will apply to them the opprobrious +epithet--_lache_. Indeed, they have not, and their only regret is at +not being able to spend another hour in San Francisco in order that they +might look up the foiled assassins, and give them into the custody of +the police. But then that would lead to a difficulty which had better +be avoided--the necessity of leaving their ship, and staying to +prosecute an action in courts where the guilty criminal is quite as +likely to be favoured as the innocent prosecutor. It is not to be +thought of, and long before the frigate's anchor is lifted, they cease +thinking of it. + +Crozier's last act before leaving port is to write the letter to Don +Gregorio; Cadwallader's to carry it ashore, and deliver it to Harry +Blew. Then, in less than twenty minutes after the returned midshipman +sets foot on the frigate's deck, the order is issued for her sails to be +sheeted home, the canvas hanging crumpled from her yards is drawn taut, +the anchor hauled apeak, and the huge leviathan, obedient to her helm +held in strong hands, is brought round, with head towards the Golden +Gate. + +The wind catches her spread sails, bellies them out, and in five minutes +more, with the British flag floating proudly over her taffrail, she +passes out of the harbour; leaving many a vessel behind, whose captains, +for want of crews, bewail their inability to follow her. + +But there are eyes following her, from farther off--beautiful eyes, that +express sadness of a different kind, and from a different cause. Carmen +Montijo and Inez Alvarez stand upon the house-top, glasses in hand. +Instead, there should have been kerchiefs--white kerchiefs--waving +adieu. And there would have been, but for those chilling words: +"_Parting compliments to the senoritas_." Strange last words for +lovers! _Santissima_! what can it mean? + +So reflect they to whom they were sent, as they stand in attentive +attitude, watching the warship, and straining their eyes upon her, till +rounding Telegraph Hill she disappears from their sight. + +A sad cruel shock both have received--a blow almost breaking their +hearts. + +Equally unhappy are two young officers on the departing ship. They too +stand with glasses in hand levelled upon the house of Don Gregorio +Montijo. They can see, as once before, two heads over the parapet, and, +as before, recognise them; but not as before, or with the same feelings, +do they regard them. All is changed now, everything doubtful and +indefinite, where it might be supposed everything had been +satisfactorily arranged. But it has not--especially in the thoughts of +Crozier; whose dissatisfaction is shown in a soliloquy to which he gives +utterance, as Telegraph Hill, interfering with his field of view, causes +him to take the telescope from his eye. + +"Carmen Montijo!" he exclaims, crushing it to its shortest, and +returning the instrument to its case. "To think of a `sport'--a common +gambler--even having acquaintance with her--far less presuming to make +love to her!" + +"More than gamblers--both of them," adds Cadwallader by his side. +"Robbers--murderers--anything if they had but the chance." + +"Ay, true, Will; everything vile and vulgar. Don't it make you mad to +think of it?" + +"No, not mad. That isn't the feeling I have; rather fear." + +"Fear! Of what!" + +"That the scoundrels may do some harm to our dear girls. As we know +now, they're up to anything. Since they don't stick at assassination, +they won't at abduction. I hope your letter to Don Gregorio may open +his eyes about them, and put him on his guard. My Inez! who's to +protect her? I'd give all I have in the world to be sure of her getting +safely embarked in that Chilian ship. Once there, dear old Harry Blew +will take care of her--of them both." + +Cadwallader's words seem strangely to affect his companion, changing the +expression upon his countenance. It is still shadowed, but the cloud is +of a different kind. From anger it has altered to anxiety! + +"You've struck a chord, Will, that, while not soothing the old pain, +gives me a new one. I wasn't thinking of that; my thoughts were all +occupied with the other trouble--you understand?" + +"I do. At the same, I think you make too much of the other trouble, as +you call it. I confess it troubles me too a little; though, perhaps, +not as it does you. And luckily less, the more I reflect on it. After +all, there don't seem so much to be bothered about. As you know, Ned, +it's a common thing among Spanish-Americans, whose customs are +altogether unlike our own--to have gamblers going into their best +society. Besides, I can tell you something that may comfort you a +little--a bit of information I had from Inez, as we were _platicando_ +along the road on our ride. It was natural she should speak about the +sky-blue fellow and my sticking his horse in the hip." + +"What did she say?" asks Crozier, with newly awakened interest. + +"That he was a gentleman by birth; but falling fast, and indeed quite +down." + +"And De Lara; did she say aught of him?" + +"She did; she spoke of him still more disparagingly, though knowing him +less. She said he had been introduced to them by the other, and they +were accustomed to meet him on occasions. But of late they had learned +more of him; and learning this, her aunt--your Carmen--had become very +desirous of cutting his acquaintance, as indeed all of them. And that +they intended doing so--even if they had remained in California. But +now--so soon leaving it, they did not like to humiliate De Lara by +giving him the _conge_ he deserves." + +Crozier, with eyes earnestly fixed upon Cadwallader, has listened to the +explanation. At its close he cries out, grasping his comrade's hand: + +"Will! you've lifted a load from my heart. I now see daylight where all +seemed darkness; and beholding yonder hill feel the truth of Campbell's +splendid lines:-- + + "A kiss can consecrate the ground, + Where mated hearts are mutual bound; + The spot, where love's first links are wound, + That ne'er are riven, + Is hallowed down to Earth's profound, + And up to Heaven!" + +After repeating the passionate words, he stands gazing on a spot so +consecrated to him--the summit of the hill--where, just twenty-four +hours ago, he spoke love's last appeal to Carmen Montijo. For the +_Crusader_ has passed out through the Golden Gate, and is now beating +down the coast of the Pacific. + +Cadwallader's eyes, with equal interest, are turned upon the same spot, +and for a time both are silent, absorbed in sweet reflections; recalling +all that had occurred in a scene whose slightest incident neither can +ever forgot. + +Only when the land looms low, and the outlines of the San Bruno +Mountains begin to blend with the purpling sky, does a shadow again show +itself on the countenances of the young officers. But now it is +different, no longer expressing chagrin, nor the rancour of jealousy; +but doubt, apprehension, fear, for the loved ones left behind. Still +the cloud has a silver lining, and that is--Harry Blew. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY TWO. + +A SOLEMN COMPACT. + +A Cottage of the old Californian kind--in other words, a _rancho_; one +of the humblest of these humble dwellings--the homes of the +Spanish-American poor. It is a mere hut, thatched with a species of +sea-shore grass, the "broombent" seen growing in the sand-dunes near by. +For it is by the sea, or within sight of it; inconspicuously placed by +reason of rugged rocks, that cluster around, and soar up behind, forming +a background in keeping with the rude architectural style of the +dwelling. From the land side it is only approachable by devious and +difficult paths, known but to a few familiar friends of its owner. + +From the shore, equally difficult, for the little cove leading up to it +would not have depth sufficient to permit the passage of a boat, but for +a tiny stream trickling seaward, which has furrowed out a channel in the +sand. That by this boats can enter the cove is evident from one being +seen moored near its inner end, in front of, and not far from, the +hovel. As it is a craft of the kind generally used by Californian +fishermen--more especially those who chase the fur-seal--it may be +deduced that the owner of the hut is a seal-hunter. + +This is his profession reputedly; though there are some who ascribe to +him callings of a different kind; among others, insinuating that he +occasionally does business as a _contrabandista_. + +Whether true or not, Rafael Rocas--for he is the owner of the hut--is +not the man to trouble himself about denying it. He would scarce +consider smuggling an aspersion on his character; and indeed, under old +Mexican administration, it would have been but slight blame, or shame, +to him. And not such a great deal either under the new, at the time of +which we write, but perhaps still less. Compared with other crimes then +rife in California, contrabandism might almost be reckoned an honest +calling. + +But Rafael Rocas has a repute for doings of a yet darker kind. With +those slightly acquainted with him it is only suspicion; but a few of +his more intimate associates can say for certain that he is not +disinclined to a stroke of road robbery or a job at housebreaking; so +that, if times have changed for the worse, he has not needed any change +to keep pace with them. + +It is the day on which the British frigate sailed from San Francisco +Bay, and he is in his hut; not alone, but in the company of three men, +in personal appearance altogether unlike himself. While he wears the +common garb of a Californian fisherman--loose pea-coat of coarse canvas, +rough water-boots, and seal-skin cap--they are attired in costly +stuffs--cloaks of finest broadcloth, _jaquetas_ of rich velvet, and +_cahoneras_, lashed with gold lace, and gleaming with constellations of +buttons. + +Notwithstanding their showy magnificence, the seal-hunter, smuggler, or +whatever he may be, does not appear to treat his guests with any +obsequious deference. On the contrary, he is engaged with them in +familiar converse, and by his tone and gestures, showing that he feels +himself their equal. + +Two of the individuals thus oddly consorting are already well known to +the reader--the third but slightly. The former are Francisco de Lara +and Faustino Calderon; the latter is Don Manuel Diaz, famed for his +fighting cocks. The first two have just entered under Rocas' roof, +finding the cockfighter already there, as De Lara predicted. + +After welcoming his newly arrived guests in Spanish-American fashion, +placing his house at their disposal--"_Mia casa a la disposition de +Vms_,"--the seal-hunter has set before them a bottle of his best +liquor--this being _aguardiente_ of Tequila. They have taken off their +outer apparel--cloaks and hats--and are seated around a small deal +table, the only one the shanty contains--its furniture being of the +scantiest and most primitive kind. + +Some conversation of a desultory nature has passed between them; but +they have now entered on a subject more interesting and particular, the +keynote having been struck by De Lara. He opens by asking a question: + +"Caballeros! do you want to be rich?" + +All three laugh, while simultaneously answering: + +"_Carramba_! Yes." + +Diaz adds: + +"I've heard many an idle interrogatory; but never, in all my life, one +so superfluous as yours; not even when there's twenty to one offered +against a staggering cock." + +Rocas inquires: + +"What do ye call rich, Don Francisco?" + +"Well," responds the Creole, "say sixty thousand dollars. I suppose +you'd consider that sufficient to bestow the title?" + +"Certainly," rejoins Rocas; "not only the title, but the substantial and +real thing. If I'd only the half of it, I'd give up chasing seals." + +"And I cock fighting," put in Diaz; "that is, so far as to look to it +for a living; though I might still incline to have a main for pastime's +sake. With sixty thousand dollars at my back, I'd go for being a grand +ganadero, like friend Faustino here, whose horses and horned cattle +yield him such a handsome income." + +The other three laugh at this, since it is known to all of them that the +ganadero has long since got rid both of his horses and horned cattle. + +"Well, gentlemen," says De Lara, after this bit of preliminary +skirmishing, "I can promise each of you the sum I speak of, if you're +willing to go in with me in a little affair I've fixed upon. Are you +the men for it?" + +"Your second question is more sensible than the first, though equally +uncalled for--at least so far as concerns me. I'm the man to go in for +anything which promises to make me the owner of sixty thousand dollars." + +It is Diaz who thus unconditionally declares himself Calderon endorses +it by a declaration of like daring nature. The seal-hunter simply nods +assent, but in a knowing manner. For he is already acquainted with De +Lara's design; knows all about it; being, in fact, its real originator. + +"Now, Don Francisco! let's know what you're driving at?" demands Diaz, +adding: "Have you struck a _veta_, or discovered a rich _placer_? If +so, we're ready for either rock-mining or pan-washing, so long as the +labour's not too hard. Speak out, and tell us what it is. The thought +of clutching such a pretty prize makes a man impatient." + +"Well, I'll let you into the secret so far--it is a _veta_--a grand gold +mine--a very _bonanza_--but one which will need neither rock-crushing +nor mud-cradling. The gold has been already gathered; and lies in a +certain place, all in a lump; only waiting transport to some other +place, which we can select at our leisure." + +"Your words sound well," remarks Don Manuel. + +"Wonderful well," echoes Rocas, with assumed surprise. + +"Are they not too good to be true?" asks Diaz. + +"No. They're true as good. Not a bit of exaggeration, I assure you. +The gold only wants to be got at, and then taken." + +"Ah! there may be difficulty about that?" rejoins the doubting Diaz. + +"Do you expect to finger sixty thousand _pesos_ without taking the +trouble to stretch out your hand?" + +"Oh, no. I'm not so unreasonable. For that I'd be willing to stretch +out both hands, with a knife in one, and a pistol in the other." + +"Well, it's not likely to need either, if skilfully managed. I ask you +again, are you the men to go in for it?" + +"I'm one," answers Diaz. + +"And I another," growls Rocas. + +"I'm not going to say nay," assents Calderon, glancing significantly at +the questioner. + +"Enough!" exclaims De Lara; "so far you all consent to the partnership. +But before entering fully into it, it will be necessary to have a more +thorough understanding, as also a more formal one. Are you willing to +be bound, that there shall be truth between us?" + +"We are!" is the simultaneous response of all three. + +"And fidelity to the death!" + +"To the death." + +"_Bueno_! But we must take an oath to that effect. After which, you +shall know what it's for. Enough now to say it's a thing that needs +swearing upon. If there's to be treason, there shall be perjury also. +Are you ready to take the oath?" + +They signify assent unanimously. + +"To your feet, then!" commands the chief conspirator. "It will be more +seemly to take it standing." + +All four spring up from their chairs, and stand facing the table. + +De Lara draws a dagger and lays it down before him. The others have +their stilettos too--a weapon carried by most Spanish Californians. + +Each exhibits his own, laying it beside that already on the table. + +With the four De Lara forms a cross--Maltese fashion, and then standing +erect, Diaz opposite, Rocas and Calderon on either flank--he repeats in +firm, solemn voice, the others after him: + +"_In the deed we this day agree to do, acting together and jointly, we +swear to be true to each other--to stand by one another, if need be, to +the death; to keep what we do a secret from all the world; and if any +one betray it, the other three swear to follow him wherever he may flee, +seek him wherever he may shelter himself, and take vengeance upon him, +by taking his life. If any of us fail in this oath, may we be accursed +ever after. Amen_!" + + + +CHAPTER FORTY THREE. + +THE "BONANZA." + +The infamous ceremony duly ratified, a drink of the fiery spirit of the +_mescal_ plant--a fit finale--is quaffed. Then they take up their +stilettos, replace them in their sheaths, and again sitting down, listen +to De Lara, to learn from him the nature of that deed, for doing which +they have so solemnly compacted. + +In a short time he makes it known, the disclosure calling for but a few +words. It is after all but a common affair, though one that needs skill +and courage. Simply a "bit of burglary," but a big thing of its kind. +He tells them of three hundred thousand dollars' worth of gold-dust +lying in a lone country-house, with no other protection than that of its +owner, with some half-dozen Indian domestics. + +There are but two of them to whom this is news--Diaz and Calderon. +Rocas smiles while the revelation is being made; for he has been the +original discoverer of the so-called "bonanza." It was that he +communicated to De Lara, when, on the day before, he stopped him and +Calderon at the _tinacal_ of Dolores. + +It is not the first time for the seal-hunter to do business of a similar +kind in conjunction with the gambler; who, like himself, has been +accustomed to vary his professional pursuits. But, as now, he has +always acted under De Lara--whose clear, cool head and daring hand +assure him leadership in any scheme requiring superior courage, with +intelligence for its execution. + +"How soon?" asks Diaz, after all has been declared. "I should say the +sooner the better." + +"You're right about that, Don Manuel," rejoins Rocas. + +"True," assents De Lara. "At the same time caution must not be lost +sight of. There's two of you aware of what danger we'd be in, if just +now we went near the town, or anywhere outside this snug little asylum +of Senor Rocas--whose hospitality we may have to trench upon for some +time. I don't know, Don Rafael, whether friend Diaz has told you of +what happened last night?" + +"He's given me a hint of it," replies the smuggler. + +"Oh, yes," puts in Diaz; "I thought he might as well know." + +"Of course," agrees De Lara. "In that case, then, I've only to add, +that there will be no safety for us in San Francisco, so long as the +English man-o'-war stays in port. He who broke our bank is rich enough +to buy law, and can set its hounds after us by night, or by day. Until +he and his ship are gone--" + +"The ship _is_ gone," says Rocas, interrupting. + +"Ha! What makes you say that?" + +"Because I know it." + +"How?" + +"Simply by having seen her. Nothing like the eyes to give one assurance +about anything--with a bit of glass to assist them. Through that thing +up there,"--he points to an old telescope resting on hooks against the +wall--"I saw the English frigate beating out by the Farrallones, when I +was up on the cliff about an hour ago. I knew her from having seen her +lying in the bay. She's gone to sea for sure." + +At this the others looked surprised as well as pleased; more especially +Calderon. He need no longer fear encountering the much-dreaded +midshipman either in a duel or with his dirk. + +"It's very strange," says De Lara. "I'd heard she was to sail soon, but +not till another ship came to relieve her." + +"That ship has come," returns Rocas--"a corvette. I saw her working up +the coast last evening just before sunset. She was making for the Gate, +and must be inside now." + +"If all this be true," says the chief conspirator, "we need lose no more +time, but put on our masks and bring the affair off at once. It's too +late for doing anything to-night; but there's no reason why we shouldn't +act to-morrow night, if it prove a dark one. We four of us will be +strength enough for such a trifling affair. I thought of bringing Juan +Lopez, our croupier; but I saw he wouldn't be needed. Besides, from the +way he's been behaving lately I've lost confidence in him. Another +reason for leaving him out will be understood by all of you. In a +matter of this kind it _isn't_ the more the merrier, though it _is_ the +fewer the better cheer. The yellow dust will go farther among four than +five." + +"It will," exclaims the cockfighter with emphasis, showing his +satisfaction at what De Lara has done. He adds: "To-morrow night, then, +we are to act?" + +"Yes, if it be a dark one. If not, 'twill be wiser to let things lie +over for the next. A day can't make much difference; while the colour +of the night may. A moonlit sky, or a clear starry one, might get us +all where we'd see stars without any being visible--through a noose +round our neck?" + +"There'll be no moon to-morrow night," puts in the smuggler, who, in +this branch of his varied vocations, has been accustomed to take account +of such things. "At least," he adds, "none that will do us any harm. +The fog's sure to be on before midnight; at this time of year, it always +is. To-morrow night will be like the last--black as a pot of pitch." + +"True," says De Lara, as a man with some experience of the sea, also +having meteorological knowledge. "No doubt, 'twill be as you say, +Rocas. In that case we'll have nothing to fear. We can get the job +done, and be back here before morning. Ah, then seated round the table, +we'll not be like we are now--poor as rats; but every one with his pile +before him--sixty thousand _pesos_." + +"_Carramba_!" exclaims Diaz, in a mocking tone, "while saying vespers +to-night, let's put in a special prayer for to-morrow night to be what +Rocas says it will--black as a pot of pitch." + +The profane suggestion is hailed with a burst of ribald laughter; after +which they set about preparing the _mascaras_, and other disguises, to +be used in their nefarious enterprise. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. + +"AMBRE LA PUERTA!" + +Another sun has shone upon San Francisco Bay, and again gone down in red +gleam over the far-spreading Pacific, leaving the sky of a leaden +colour, moonless and starless. + +As the hour of midnight approaches it assumes the hue predicted by +Rocas, and desired by Diaz. For the ocean fog has again rolled +shoreward across the peninsula, and shrouds San Francisco as with a +pall. The adjacent country is covered with its funereal curtain, +embracing within its folds the house of Don Gregorio Montijo. + +The inmates seem all asleep, as at this hour they should. No light is +seen through the windows, nor any sound heard within the walls. Not +even the baying of a watch-dog, the bellow of a stalled ox, or the +stamping of a horse in the stables. Inside, as without, all is silence. + +The profound silence seems strange, though favourable, to four men not +far from the place, and gradually, but with slow steps, drawing nearer +to it. For they are approaching by stealth, as can be told by their +attitudes and gestures. They advance crouchingly, now and then stopping +to take a survey of the _terrain_ in front, as they do so exchanging +whispered words with one another. + +Through the hazy atmosphere their figures show weird-like--all the more +from their grotesque gesticulations. Even if scrutinised closely, and +in clearest light, they would present this appearance; for although in +human shape, and wearing the garb of men, their faces more resemble +those of demons. They are human countenances, nevertheless, but +_en-mascaradas_. + +Nothing more is needed to tell who, and what they are, with their +purpose in thus approaching Don Gregorio's house. They are burglars, +designing to break into it. + +It needs not the removal of their masks to identify them as the four +conspirators left plotting in the rancho of Rafael Rocas. + +They are now _en route_ for putting their scheme into execution. + +It would look as if Don Gregorio were never to get his gold to Panama-- +much less have it transported to Spain. + +And his daughter! What of her, with Francisco de Lara drawing nigh as +one of the nocturnal ravagers? His grand-daughter, too, Faustino +Calderon being another? + +One cognisant of the existing relations, and spectator of what is +passing now--seeing the craped robbers as they steal on towards the +house--would suppose it in danger of being doubly despoiled, and that +its owner is to suffer desolation, not only in fortune, but in that far +dearer to him--his family. + +The burglars are approaching from the front, up the avenue, though not +on it. They keep along its edge among the manzanita bushes. These, +with the fog, afford sufficient screen to prevent their being observed +from the house--even though sentinels were set upon its azotea. But +there appears to be none; no eye to see, no voice to give warning, not +even the bark of a watch, dog to wake those unconsciously slumbering +within. + +As already said, there is something strange in this. On a large grazing +estate it is rare for the Molossian to be silent. More usually his +sonorous voice is heard throughout the night, or at brief intervals. + +Though anything but desirous to hear the barking of dogs, the burglars +are themselves puzzled at the universal silence, so long continued. For +before entering the enclosure they have been lying concealed in a +thicket outside, their horses tied to trees, where they have now left +them, and during all the time not a sound had reached their ears; no +voice either of man or animal! They are now within sight of the house, +its massive front looming large and dark through the mist--still no stir +outside, and within the stillness of death itself! + +Along with astonishment, a sense of awe is felt by one of the four +criminals--Calderon, who has still some lingering reluctance as to the +deed about to be done--or it may be but fear. The other three are too +strong in courage, and too hardened in crime, for scruples of any kind. + +Arriving at the end of the avenue, and within a short distance of the +dwelling, they stop for a final consultation, still under cover of the +manzanitas. + +All silent as ever; no one stirring; no light from any window; the +shutters closed behind the _rejas_--the great _puerta_ as well! + +"Now, about getting inside," says De Lara; "what will be our best way?" + +"In my opinion," answers Diaz, "we'll do best by climbing up to the +_azotea_, and over it into the _patio_." + +"Where's your ladder?" asks Rocas, in his gruff, blunt way. + +"We must find one, or something that'll serve instead. There should be +loose timber lying about the _corrals_--enough to provide us with a +climbing-pole." + +"And while searching for it, wake up some of the _vaqueros_. That won't +do." + +"Then what do you propose, Rafael?" interrogates the chief conspirator. + +The seal-hunter, from a presumed acquaintance with housebreaking, is +listened to with attention. + +"Walk straight up to the door," he answers; "knock, and ask to be +admitted." + +"Ay; and have a blunderbuss fired at us, with a shower of bullets big as +billiard balls. _Carrai_!" + +It is Calderon who speaks thus apprehensively. + +"Not the least danger of that," rejoins Rocas. "Take my word, we'll be +let in." + +"Why do you think so?" + +"Why? Because we have a claim on the hospitality of the house." + +"I don't understand you, Rocas," says De Lara. + +"Haven't we a good story to tell--simple, and to the purpose?" + +"Still I don't understand. Explain yourself, Rafael." + +"Don't we come as messengers from the man-o'-war--from those officers +you've been telling me about?" + +"Ah! now I perceive your drift." + +"One can so announce himself, while the others keep out of sight. He +can say he's been sent by the young gentlemen on an errand to Don +Gregorio, or the senoritas, if you like. Something of importance +affecting their departure. True, by this they'll know the ship's +weighed anchor. No matter; the story of a message will stand good all +the same." + +"Rafael Rocas!" exclaims De Lara, "you're a born genius. Instead of +being forced to do a little smuggling now and then, you ought to be made +_administrator-general of customs_. We shall act as you advise. No +doubt the door will be opened. When it is, one can take charge of the +janitor. He's a sexagenarian, and won't be hard to hold. If he +struggle, let him be silenced. The rest of us can go ransacking. You, +Calderon, are acquainted with the interior, and, as you say, know the +room where Don Gregorio is most likely to keep his chest. You must lead +us straight for that." + +"But, Francisco," whispers Calderon in the ear of his confederate, after +drawing him a little apart from the other two; "about the _ninas_? You +don't intend anything with them?" + +"Certainly not--not to-night; nor in this fashion. I hope being able to +approach _them_ in gentler guise, and more becoming time. When they're +without a _peso_ in the world, they'll be less proud; and may be +contented to stay a little longer in California. To-night we've enough +on our hands without thinking of women. One thing at a time--their +money first--themselves afterwards." + +"But suppose they should recognise us?" + +"They can't. Disguised as we are, I defy a man's mother to know him. +If they did, then--" + +"Then what?" + +"No use reflecting what. Don't be so scared, man! If I'd anticipated +any chance of its coming to extremes of the kind you're pondering upon, +I wouldn't be here prepared for only half measures. Perhaps we sha'n't +even wake the ladies up; and if we do, there's not the slightest danger +of our being known. So make your mind easy, and let's get through with +it. See! Diaz and Rocas are getting impatient! We must rejoin them, +and proceed to business at once." + +The four housebreakers again set their heads together; and after a few +whispered words, to settle all particulars about their plan of +proceeding, advance towards the door. + +Once up to it, they stand close in, concealed by its o'ershadowing arch. + +With the butt of his pistol, De Lara knocks. + +Diaz, unknown to the family, and therefore without fear of his voice +being recognised, is to do the talking. + +No one answers the knock; and it is repeated. Louder, and still louder. + +The sexagenarian janitor sleeps soundly to-night, thinks De Lara, +deeming it strange. + +Another "rat-at-tat" with the pistol-butt, followed by the usual +formulary: + +"_Ambre la puerta_!" + +At length comes a response from within; but not the customary "_Quen +es_?" nor anything in Spanish. On the contrary, the speech which +salutes the ears of those seeking admission is in a different tongue, +and tone altogether unlike that of a native Californian. + +"Who the old scratch are ye?" asks a voice from inside, while a heavy +footstep is heard coming along the _saguan_. Before the startled +burglars can shape a reply, the voice continues: + +"Damn ye! What d'ye want anyhow--wakin' a fellur out o' his sleep at +this time o' the night? 'Twould sarve ye right if I sent a bullet +through the door at ye. Take care what you're about. I've got my +shootin'-iron handy; a Colt's revolver--biggest size at thet." + +"_Por Dios_! what does this mean?" mutters De Lara. + +"Tell him, Diaz," he adds, in _sotto-voce_ to the cockfighter--"tell him +we're from the British man-o'-war with--_Carrai_! I forgot, you don't +speak English. I must do it myself. _He_ won't know who it is." Then +raising his voice: "We want to see Don Gregorio Montijo. We bring a +message from the British man-o'-war--from the two officers." + +"Consarn the British man-o'-war!" interrupts the surly speaker inside; +"an' yur message, an' yur two officers, I know nothin' 'bout them. As +for Don Gregorio, if ye want to get sight on him, ye're a preeshus way +wide o' the mark. He ain't here any more. He's gin up the house, an' +tuk everything o' hisn out o't this mornin'. I'm only hyar in charge o' +the place. Guess you'll find both the Don an' his darters at the +_Parker_--the most likeliest place to tree thet lot." + +Don Gregorio gone!--his gold--his girls! Only an empty house, in charge +of a caretaker, who carries a Colt's repeating pistol, biggest size, and +would use it on the smallest provocation! + +No good their going inside now, but a deal of danger. Anything but +pleasant medicine would be a pill from that six-shooter. + +"_Carramba! Caraio! Chingara! Maldita_!" + +Such are the wild exclamations that issue from the lips of the +disappointed housebreakers, as they turn away from the dismantled +dwelling, and hasten to regain their horses. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY FIVE. + +A SCRATCH CREW. + +It was a fortunate inspiration that led the ex-haciendado to have his +gold secretly carried on board the Chilian ship; another, that +influenced him to transfer his family, and household gods, to an hotel +in the town. + +It was all done in a day--that same day. Every hour, after the sailing +of the _Crusader_, had he become more anxious; for every hour brought +intelligence of some new act of outlawry in the neighbourhood, +impressing him with the insecurity, not only of his Penates, but the +lives of himself and his ladies. So long as the British ship lay in +port, it seemed a protection to him; and although this may have been but +fancy, it served somewhat to tranquillise his fears. Soon as she was +gone, he gave way to them, summoned Silvestre, with a numerous retinue +of _cargadores_, and swept the house clean of everything he intended +taking--the furniture alone being left, as part of the purchased +effects. + +He has indeed reason to congratulate himself on his rapid removal, as he +finds on the following day, when visiting his old home for some trifling +purpose, and there hearing what had happened during the night. + +The man in charge--a stalwart American, armed to the teeth--gives him a +full account of the nocturnal visitors. There were four, he says-- +having counted them through the keyhole--inquiring for him, Don +Gregorio. They appeared greatly disappointed at not getting an +interview with him; and went off uttering adjurations in Spanish, though +having held their parley in English. + +A message from the British man-of-war! And brought by men who swore in +Spanish! Strange all that, thinks Don Gregorio, knowing the _Crusader_ +should then be at least a hundred leagues off at sea. + +Besides, the messengers have not presented themselves at the _Parker +House_, to which the caretaker had directed them. + +"What can it mean?" asks the ex-haciendado of himself. + +Perhaps the sailor who is now first officer of the Chilian ship may know +something of it; and he will question him next time he goes aboard. + +He has, however, little hope of being enlightened in that quarter; his +suspicions turning elsewhere. He cannot help connecting Messrs. De Lara +and Calderon with the occurrence. Crozier's letter, coupled with the +further information received from the bearer of it, has thrown such a +light on the character of these two _enhalleros_, he can believe them +capable of anything. After their attempt to rob the young officers, and +murder them as well, they would not hesitate to serve others the same; +and the demand for admission to his house may have been made by these +very men, with a couple of confederates--their design to plunder it, if +not do something worse. + +Thus reflecting, he is thankful for having so unconsciously foiled +them--indeed, deeming it a Providence. + +Still is he all the more solicitous to leave a land beset with such +dangers. Even in the town he does not feel safe. Robbers and murderers +walk boldly abroad through the streets; not alone, but in the company of +judges who have tried without condemning them; while lesser criminals +stand by drinking-bars, hobnobbing with the constables who either hold +them in charge, or have just released them, after a mock-hearing before +some magistrate, with eyes blind as those of Justice herself--blinded by +the gold-dust of California! + +Notwithstanding all this, Don Gregorio need have no fear for his ladies. +Their sojourn at the hotel may be somewhat irksome, and uncongenial; +still they are safe. Rough-looking and boisterous as are some of their +fellow-guests, they are yet in no way rude. The most refined or +sensitive lady need not fear moving in their midst. A word or gesture +of insult to her would call forth instant chastisement. + +It is not on their account he continues anxious, but because of his +unprotected treasure. Though secreted aboard the _Condor_, it is still +unsafe. Should its whereabouts get whispered abroad, there are robbers +bold enough, not only to take it from the Chilian skipper, but set fire +to his ship, himself in her, and cover their crime by burning everything +up. + +Aware of all this, the ex-haciendado, with the help of friendly +Silvestre, has half-a-dozen trusty men placed aboard of her--there to +stay till a crew can be engaged. It is a costly matter, but money may +save money, and now is not the time to cavil at expenses. + +As yet, not a sailor has presented himself. None seem caring to ship +"for Valparaiso and intermediate ports," even at the double wages +offered in the _Diario_. The _Condor's_ forecastle remains untenanted, +except by the six longshore men, who temporarily occupy it, without +exactly knowing why they are there; but contented to make no inquiry, so +long as they are receiving their ten dollars a day. Of crew, there is +only the captain himself, his first officer, and the cook. The orangs +do not count. + +Day by day, Don Gregorio grows more impatient, and is in constant +communication with Silvestre. + +"Offer higher wages," he says. "Engage sailors at any price." + +The shipping-agent yields assent; inserts a second _aviso_ in the +Spanish paper, addressed to _marineros_ of all nations. Triple wages to +those who will take service on a well-appointed ship. In addition, all +the usual allowances, the best of grub and grog. Surely this should get +the _Condor_ a crew. + +And at length it does. Within twenty-four hours after the advertisement +has appeared, sailors begin to show on her decks. They come singly, or +in twos and threes; and keep coming till as many as half-a-score have +presented themselves. They belong to different nationalities, speaking +several tongues--among them English, French, and Danish. But the +majority appear to be Spaniards, or Spanish-Americans--as might have +been expected from the _Condor_ being a Chilian ship. + +Among them is the usual variety of facial expression; though, in one +respect, a wonderful uniformity. Scarce a man of them whose countenance +is not in some way unprepossessing--either naturally of sinister cast, +or brought to it by a career of sinful dissipation. Several of them +show signs of having been recently drinking--with eyes bleary and +bloodshot. Of strife, too, its souvenirs visible in other eyes that are +blackened, and scars upon cheeks not yet cicatrised. Some are still in +a state of inebriety, and stagger as they stray about the decks. + +Under any other circumstances, such sailors would stand no chance of +getting shipped. As it is, they are accepted--not one refused. Captain +Lantanas has no choice, and knows it. Without them he is helpless, and +it would be hopeless for him to think of putting to sea. If he do not +take them, the _Candour_ may swing idly at her anchor for weeks, it +might be months. + +Quick as they came aboard, he enters their names on the ship's books, +while Harry Blew assigns them their separate bunks in the forepeak. +One, a Spaniard, by name Padilla, shows credentials from some former +ship, which procure him the berth of _piloto-segundo_ (second mate). + +After the ten had been taken, no more present themselves. Even the big +bounty offered does not tempt another tar from the saloons of San +Francisco. In any other seaport, it would empty every sailors' +boarding-house, to its last lodger. + +And ten hands are not enough to work the good ship _Condor_. + +Her captain knows it, and waits another day, hoping he may get a few +more to complete her complement; but hopes in vain, the supply seems +exhausted. + +Becoming convinced of this, he determines to set sail with such crew as +he has secured. But little more remains to be done; some stores to be +shipped, provisions for the voyage, the best and freshest San Francisco +can afford. For he who authorises their inlay cares not for the cost-- +only that things may be made comfortable. Don Gregorio gives +_carte-blanche_ for providing the vessel; and it is done according to +his directions. + +At length everything is ready, and the _Condor_ only awaits her +passengers. Her cabin has been handsomely furnished; its best +state-room decorated to receive two ladies, fair as ever set foot on +board ship. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY SIX. + +"ADIOS CALIFORNIA!" + +A bright sun rises over San Francisco, in all likelihood the last Don +Gregorio Montijo will ever witness in California. For just as the orb +of day shows its disc above the dome-shaped _silhouette_ of Monte +Diablo, flinging its golden shimmer across the bay, a boat leaves the +town-pier, bearing him and his towards the Chilian vessel, whose signals +for sailing are out. + +Others are in the boat; a large party of ladies and gentlemen, who +accompany them to do a last handshaking on board. For, in quitting +California, the ex-haciendado leaves many friends behind; among them, +some who will pass sleepless hours thinking of Carmen Montijo; and +others whose hearts will be sore as their thoughts turn to Inez Alvarez. + +It may be that none of those are present now; and better for them if +not; since the most painful of all partings is that where the lover sees +his sweetheart sail away, with the knowledge she cares neither to stay, +nor come back. + +The young ladies going off show but little sign of regret at leaving. +They are hindered by remembrance of the last words spoken at another +parting, now painfully recalled: "_Hasta Cadiz_!" The thought of that +takes the sting out of this. + +The boat reaches the ship, and swinging around, lies alongside. + +Captain Lantanas stands by the gangway to receive his passengers, with +their friends; while his first officer helps them up the man-ropes. + +Among the ladies, Harry Blew distinguishes the two he is to have charge +of, and with them is specially careful. As their soft-gloved fingers +rest in his rough horny hand, he mentally registers a vow that it shall +never fail them in the hour of need--if such there ever be. + +On the cabin-table is spread a refection of the best; and around it the +leave-takers assemble, the Chilian skipper doing the honours of his +ship. And gracefully, for he is a gentleman. + +Half-an-hour of merry-making, light chatter, enlivened by the popping of +corks, and clinking of glasses; then ten minutes of converse more +serious; after which hurried graspings of the hand and a general +scattering towards the shore-boat, which soon after moves off amid +exclamations of "_Adios_!" and "_Bueno viage_!" accompanied by the +waving of hands, and white slender fingers saluting with tremulous +motion--like the quiver of a kestrel's wing--the fashion of the +Spanish-american fair. + +While the boat is being rowed back to the shore, the _Condor_ puts out +her canvas, and stands away towards the Golden Gate. + +She is soon out of sight of the port; having entered the strait which +gives access to the great land-locked estuary. But a wind blowing in +from the west hinders her; and she is all the day tacking through the +eight miles of narrow water which connects San Francisco Bay with the +Pacific. + +The sun is nigh set as she passes the old Spanish fort and opens view of +the outside ocean. But the heavenly orb that rose over Mont Diablo like +a globe of gold goes down beyond `Los Farrallones' more resembling a +ball of fire about to be quenched hissing in the sea. + +It is still only half-immersed behind the blue expanse, when, gliding +out from the portals of the Golden Gate, the _Condor_ rounds Seal Rock, +and stands on her course West-South-West. + +The wind shifts, the evening breeze begins to blow steadily from the +land. This is favourable; and after tacks have been set, and sails +sheeted home, there is but little work to be done. + +It is the hour of the second dog-watch, and the sailors are all on deck, +grouped about the fore hatch, and gleefully conversing. Here and there +an odd individual stands by the side, with eyes turned shoreward, taking +a last look at the land. Not as if he regretted leaving it, but is +rather glad to get away. More than one of that crew have reason to feel +thankful that the Chilian craft is carrying them from a country, where, +had they stayed much longer, it would have been to find lodgment in a +jail. Out at sea, their faces seem no better favoured than when they +first stepped aboard. Scarce recovered from their shore carousing, they +show swollen cheeks, and eyes inflamed with alcohol; countenances from +which the breeze of the Pacific, however pure, cannot remove that +sinister cast. + +At sight of them, and the two fair creatures sailing in the same ship, a +thought about the incongruity--as also the insecurity of such +companionship--cannot help coming uppermost. It is like two beautiful +birds of Paradise shut up in the same cage with wolves, tigers, and +hyenas. + +But the birds of Paradise are not troubling themselves about this, or +anything else in the ship. Lingering abaft the binnacle, with their +hands resting on the taffrail, they look back at the land, their eyes +fixed upon the summit of a hill, ere long to become lost to their view +by the setting of the sun. They have been standing so for some time in +silence, when Inez says: + +"I can tell what you're thinking of, _tia_." + +"Indeed, can you? Well, let me hear it." + +"You're saying to yourself: `What a beautiful hill that is yonder; and +how I should like to be once more upon its top--not alone, but with +somebody beside me.' Now, tell the truth, isn't that it?" + +"Those are your own thoughts, _sobrina_." + +"I admit it, and also that they are pleasant. So are yours; are they +not?" + +"Only in part. I have others, which I suppose you can share with me." + +"What others?" + +"Reflections not at all agreeable, but quite the contrary." + +"Again distressing yourself about that! It don't give me the slightest +concern; and didn't from the first." + +"No?" + +"No!" + +"Well; I must say you take things easily--which I don't. A lover-- +engaged, too--to go away in that _sans facon_ way! Not so much as a +note, nor even a verbal message. _Santissima_! it was something more +than rude--it was cruel; and I can't help thinking so." + +"But there was a message in the letter to grandpapa, for both of us. +What more would you wish?" + +"Pff! who cares for parting compliments? A _lepero_ would send better +to his sweetheart in sleeveless _camisa_. That's not the message for +me." + +"How can you tell there wasn't some other which has miscarried? I'm +almost sure there has been; else why should somebody have knocked at the +door an' said so. The Americano left in charge of the house has told +grandpa something about four men having come there the night after we +left it. One may have been this messenger we've missed--the others +going with him for company. And through his neglect we've not got +letters intended for us. Or, if they haven't written, it's because they +were pressed for time. However, we shall know when we meet them at +Cadiz." + +"Ah! when we meet them there, I'll demand an explanation from Eduardo. +That shall I, and get it--or know the reason why." + +"He will have a good one, I warrant. There's been a miscarriage, +somehow. For hasn't there been mystery all round? Luckily, no +fighting, as we feared, and have reason to rejoice. Neither anything +seen or heard of your California!! chivalry! That's the strangest thing +of all." + +"It is indeed strange," rejoins Carmen, showing emotion; "I wonder what +became of them. Nobody that we know has met either after that day; nor +yet heard word of them." + +"Carmen, I believe one _has_ heard of them." + +"Who?" + +"Your father." + +"What makes you think so, Inez!" + +"Some words I overheard, while he was conversing with the English sailor +who's now in the ship with us. I'm almost certain there was something +in Mr Crozier's letter relating to De Lara and Calderon. What it was, +grandpa seems desirous of keeping to himself; else he would have told +us. We must endeavour to find it out from the sailor." + +"You're a cunning schemer, _sobrina_. I should never have thought of +that. We shall try. Now I remember, Eduardo once saved this man's +life. Wasn't it a noble, daring deed? For all, I'm very angry with +him, leaving me as he has done; and sha'n't be pacified until I see him +on his knees, and he apologise for it. That he shall do at Cadiz!" + +"To confess the truth, _tia_, I was a little spited myself at first. On +reflection, I feel sure there's been some mischance, and we've been +wronging them both. I sha'n't blame my darling till I see him again. +Then if he can't clear himself, oh, won't I!" + +"You forgive too easily. I can't." + +"Yes, you can. Look at yonder hill. Recall the pleasant hour passed +upon it, and you will be lenient, as I am." + +Carmen obeys, and again turns her glance toward the spot consecrated by +sweetest remembrances. + +As she continues to gaze at it, the cloud lifts from her brow, replaced +by a smile, and promises easy pardon to him who has offended her. + +In silence the two stand, straining their eyes upon the far summit, till +shore and sea become one--both blending into the purple of twilight. + +"_Adios, California_!" + +Land no longer in sight. The ship is _au large_ on the ocean. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN. + +A TATTOO THAT NEEDS RETOUCHING. + +The great Pacific current in many respects resembles the Gulf Stream of +the Atlantic. Passing eastward under the Aleutian Archipelago, it +impinges upon the American continent by Vancouver's Island; thence +setting southward, along the Californian coast, curves round horseshoe +shape, and sets back for the central part of the South Sea, sweeping on +past the Sandwich Isles. + +By this disposition, a ship bound from San Francisco for Honolulu has +the flow in her favour; and if the wind be also favourable, she will +make fast way. + +As chance has it, both are propitious to the _Crusader_, and the warship +standing for the Sandwich Islands will likely reach them after an +incredibly short voyage. + +There are two individuals on board of her who wish it to be so; counting +every day, almost every hour, of her course. Not that they have any +desire to visit the dominions of King Kamehameha, or expect pleasure +there. On the contrary, if left to themselves, the frigate's stay in +the harbour of Honolulu would not last longer than necessary to procure +a boat-load of bananas, and replenish her hen-coops with fat Kanaka +fowls. + +It is scarce necessary to say that they, who are thus indifferent to the +delights of Owyhee, are the late-made lieutenant, Crozier, and the +midshipman, Cadwallader. For them the brown-skinned Hawaian beauties +will have little attraction. Not the slightest danger of either +yielding to the blandishments so lavishly bestowed upon sailors by these +seductive damsels of the Southern Sea. For the hearts of both are yet +thrilling with the remembrance of smiles vouchsafed them by other +daughters of the sunny south, of a far different race--thrilling, too, +with the anticipation of again basking in their smiles under the sky of +Andalusia. + +It needs hope--all they can command--to cheer them. Not because the +time is great, and the place distant. Sailors are accustomed to long +separation from those they love, and, therefore, habituated to patience. +It is no particular uneasiness of this kind which shadows their brows, +and makes every mile of the voyage seem a league. + +Nor are their spirits clouded by any reflections on that, which so +chafed them just before leaving San Francisco. If they have any +feelings about it, they are rather those of repentance for suspicions, +which both believe to have been unfounded, as unworthy. + +What troubles them now--for they are troubled--has nought to do with +that. Nor is it any doubt as to the loyalty of their _fiancee_; but +fear for their safety. It is not well-defined; but like some dream +which haunts them--at times so slight as to cause little concern, at +others, filling them with keen anxiety. + +But in whatever degree felt, it always assumes the same shape--two +figures conspicuous in it, besides those of their betrothed +sweethearts--two faces of evil omen, one that of Calderon, the other De +Lara's. + +What the young officers saw of these men, and what more they learnt of +them before leaving San Francisco, makes natural their misgivings, and +justifies their fears. Something seems to whisper them, that there is +danger to be dreaded from the gamblers--desperadoes as they have shown +themselves--that through them some eventuality may arise, affecting the +future of Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez--even to prevent their +escaping from California. + +Escape! Yes; that is the word which Crozier and Cadwallader make use of +in their conversation on the subject--the form in which their fear +presents itself. + +Before reaching the Sandwich Islands, they receive a scrap of +intelligence, which in some respect cheers them. It has become known to +the _Crusader's_ crew that the frigate is to make but short stay there-- +will not even enter the harbour of Honolulu. The commission entrusted +to her captain is of no very important nature. He is simply to leave an +official despatch, with some commands for the British consul: after +which head round again, and straight for Panama. + +"Good news; isn't it, Ned?" says Cadwallader to his senior, as the two +on watch together stand conversing. "With the quick time we've made +from 'Frisco, as the Yankees call it, and no delay to speak of in the +Sandwiches, we ought to get to the Isthmus nearly as soon as the Chilian +ship." + +"True; but it will a good deal depend on the time the Chilian ship +leaves San Francisco. No doubt she'd have great difficulty in getting a +sufficient number of hands. Blew told you there was but the captain and +himself!" + +"Only they; and the cook, an old darkey--a runaway slave, he said. +Besides a brace of great red baboons--orangs. That was the whole of her +crew, by last report! Well; in one way we ought to be glad she's so +short," continues the midshipman. "It may give us the chance of +reaching Panama soon as she, if not before her; and, as the frigate's +destined to put into that port, we may meet the dear girls again, sooner +than we expected." + +"I hope and trust we shall. I'd give a thousand pounds to be sure of +it. It would lift a load off my mind--the heaviest I've ever had on +it." + +"Off mine, too. But even if we don't reach Panama soon as the Chilian +craft, we'll hear whether she's passed through there. If she have, +that'll set things right enough. We'll then know they're safe, and will +be so--`_Hasta Cadiz_'." + +"It seems a good omen," says Crozier, reflectingly, "that we are not to +be delayed at the Islands." + +"It does," rejoins Cadwallader; "though, but for the other thing, I'd +like it better if we had to stay there--only for a day or two." + +"For what reason?" + +"There!" says the midshipman, pulling up his shirtsleeve, and laying +bare his arm to the elbow. "Look at that, lieutenant!" + +The lieutenant looks, and sees upon the skin, white as alabaster, a bit +of tattooing. It is the figure of a young girl, somewhat scantily +robed, with long streaming tresses: hair, contour, countenance, +everything done in the deepest indigo. + +"Some old sweetheart?" suggests Crozier. + +"It is." + +"But _she_ can't be a Sandwich Island belle. You've never been there?" + +"No, she isn't. She's a little Chilena, whose acquaintance I made last +spring, while we lay at Valparaiso. Grummet, the cutter's coxswain, did +the tattoo for me, as we came up the Pacific. He hadn't quite time to +finish it as you see. There was to be a picture of the Chilian flag +over her head, and underneath the girl's name, or initials. I'm now +glad they didn't go in." + +"But what the deuce has all this to do with the Sandwich Islands?" + +"Only, that, there, I intended to have the thing taken out again. +Grummet tells me he can't do it, but that the Kanakas can. He says +they've got some trick for extracting the stain, without scarring the +skin, or only very slightly." + +"But why should you care about removing it? I acknowledge tattooing is +not nice, on the epidermis of a gentleman; and I've met scores, like +yourself, sorry for having submitted to it. After all, what does it +signify? Nobody need ever see it, unless you wish them to." + +"There's where you mistake. Somebody _might_ see it, without my +wishing--sure to see it, if ever I get--" + +"What?" + +"Spliced." + +"Ah! Inez?" + +"Yes; Inez. Now you understand why I'd like to spend a day or two among +the South Sea Islanders. If I can't get the thing rubbed out, I'll be +in a pretty mess about it. I know Inez would be indulgent in a good +many ways; but when she sees that blue image on my arm, she'll look +black enough. And what am I to say to her? I told her, she was the +first sweetheart I ever had; as you know, Ned, a little bit of a fib. +Only a white one; for the Chilena was but a mere fancy, gone out of my +mind long ago; as, no doubt, I am out of hers. The question is, how's +her picture to be got out of my skin? I'd give something to know." + +"If that's all your trouble, you needn't be at any expense--except what +you may tip old Grummet. You say he has not completed the portrait of +your Chilena. That's plain enough, looking at the shortness of her +skirts. Now let him go on, and lengthen them a little. Then finish by +putting a Spanish flag over her head, instead of the Chilian, as you +intended, and underneath the initials `I.A.' With that on your arm, you +may safely show it to Inez." + +"A splendid idea! The very thing! The only difficulty is, that this +picture of the Chilian girl isn't anything like as good-looking as Inez. +Besides, it would never pass for her portrait." + +"Let me see. I'm not so sure about that. I think, with a few more +touches, it will stand well enough for your Andalusian. Grummet's given +her all the wealth of hair you're so constantly bragging about. The +only poverty's in that petticoat. But if you get the skirt stretched a +bit, that will remedy it. You want sleeves, too, to make her a lady. +Then set a tall tortoise-shell comb upon her crown, with a spread of +lace over it, hanging down below the shoulders--the mantilla--and you'll +make almost as good an Andalusian of her as is Inez herself." + +"By Jove! you're right; it can be done. The bit added to the skirt will +look like a flounced border; the Spanish ladies have such on their +dresses. I've seen them. And a fan--they have that too. She must have +one." + +"By all means, give her a fan. And as you're doubtful about the +likeness, let it be done so as to cover her face--at least the lower +half of it; that will be just as they carry it. You can hide that nose, +which is a trifle too snub for your _fiancee_. The eyes appear good +enough." + +"The Chilena had splendid eyes!" + +"Of course, or she wouldn't have her portrait on your arm. But how did +the artist know that? Has he ever seen the original?" + +"No; I described her to him; and he's well acquainted with the costume +the Chilian girls wear. He's seen plenty of such. I told him to make +the face a nice oval, with a small mouth, and pretty pouting lips; then +to give her great big eyes. You see he's done all that." + +"He has, certainly." + +"About the feet? They'll do, won't they? They're small enough, I +should say." + +"Quite small enough; and those ankles are perfection. They ought to +satisfy your Andalusian--almost flatter her." + +"Flatter her! I should think not. They might your Biscayan, with her +big feet; but not Inez; who's got the tiniest little understandings I +ever saw under the skirt of a petticoat--tall as she is." + +"Stuff!" scornfully retorts Crozier; "that's a grand mistake people make +about small feet. It's not the size, but the shape, that's to be +admired. They should be in proportion to the rest of the body; +otherwise they're a monstrosity--as among the Chinese, for instance. +And as for small feet in men, about which the French pride, and pinch +themselves, why every tailor's got that." + +"Ha, ha ha!" laughs the young Welshman. "A treatise on Orthopoedia, or +whatever it's called. Well, I shall let the Chilena's feet stand, with +the ankles too, and get Grummet to add on the toggery." + +"What if your _Chilena_ should chance to set eyes on the improved +portrait? Remember we're to call at Valparaiso!" + +"By Jove! I never thought of that." + +"If you should meet her, you'll do well to keep your shirt-sleeves down, +or you may get the picture scratched--your cheeks along with it." + +"Bah! there's no danger of that. I don't expect ever to see that girl +again--don't intend to. It wouldn't be fair, after giving that +engagement ring to Inez. If we do put into Valparaiso, I'll stay aboard +all the time the frigate's in port. That will insure against any--" + +"_Land ho_!" + +Their dialogue is interrupted. The lookout on the masthead has sighted +Mauna-Loa. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT. + +A CREW THAT MEANS MUTINY. + +A Ship sailing down the Pacific, on the line of longitude 125 degrees +West. Technically speaking, not a _ship_, but a _barque_, as may be +told by her mizzen-sails, set fore and aft. + +Of all craft encountered on the ocean, there is none so symmetrically +beautiful as the _barque_. Just as the name looks well on the page of +poetry and romance, so is the reality itself on the surface of the sea. +The sight is simply perfection. + +And about the vessel in question another graceful peculiarity is +observable: her masts are of the special kind called _polacca_--in one +piece from step to truck. + +Such vessels are _common enough_ in the Mediterranean, and not rare in +Spanish-American ports. They may be seen at Monte Video, Buenos Ayres, +and Valparaiso--to which last this barque belongs. For she is Chilian +built; her tall tapering masts made of trees from the ancient forests of +Araucania. Painted upon the stern is the name _El Condor_; and she is +the craft commanded by Captain Antonio Lantanas. + +This may seem strange. In the harbour of San Francisco the _Condor_ was +a ship. How can she now be a barque? + +The answer is easy, as has been the transformation; and a word will +explain it. For the working of her sails, a barque requires fewer hands +than a ship. Finding himself with a short crew, Captain Lantanas has +resorted to a stratagem, common in such cases, and converted his vessel +accordingly. The conversion was effected on the day before leaving San +Francisco; so that the _Condor_, entering the Golden Gate a ship, stood +out of it a barque. As such she is now on the ocean, sailing southward +along the line of longitude 125 degrees West. In the usual track taken +by sailing-vessels between Upper California and the Isthmus, she has +westered, to get well clear of the coast, and catch the regular winds, +that, centuries ago, wafted the spice-laden Spanish galleons from the +Philippines to Acapulco. A steamer would hug the shore, keeping the +brown barren mountains of Lower California in view. Instead, the +_Condor_ has sheered wide from the land; and, in all probability, will +not again sight it till she's bearing up to Panama Bay. + +It is the middle watch of the night--the first after leaving San +Francisco. Eight bells have sounded, and the chief mate is in charge, +the second having turned in, along with the division of crew allotted to +him. The sea is tranquil, the breeze light, blowing from the desired +quarter, so that there is nothing to call for any unusual vigilance. + +True, the night is dark, but without portent of storm. It is, as Harry +Blew knows, only a thick rain-cloud, such as often shadows this part of +the Pacific. + +But the darkness need not be dreaded. They are in too low a latitude to +encounter icebergs; and upon the wide waters of the South Sea there is +not much danger of collision with ships. + +Notwithstanding these reasons for feeling secure, the chief officer of +the _Condor_ paces her decks with a brow clouded, as the heavens over +his head; while the glance of his eye betrays anxiety of no ordinary +kind. It cannot be from any apprehension about the weather. He does +not regard the sky, nor the sea, nor the sails. On the contrary, he +moves about, not with bold, manlike step, as one having command of a +vessel, but stealthily, now and then stopping and standing in crouched +attitude, within the deeper shadow thrown upon the decks by masts, +bulwarks, and boats. He seems less to occupy himself about the ropes, +spars, and sails, than the behaviour of those who work them. Not while +they are working them either, but more when they are straying idly along +the gangways, or clustered in some corner, and conversing. In short, he +appears to be playing spy on them. + +For this he has his reasons. And for all good ones. Before leaving +port he had discovered the incapacity of the crew, so hastily scraped +together. A bad lot, he could see at first sight--rough, ribald, and +drunken. In all there are eleven of them, the second mate included; the +last, as already stated, a Spaniard, by name Padilla. There are three +others of the same race--Spaniards, or Spanish-Americans--Gil Gomez, +Jose Hernandez, and Jacinto Velarde; two Englishmen, Jack Striker and +Bill Davis; a Frenchman, by name La Crosse; a Dutchman, and a Dane; the +remaining two being men whose nationality is difficult to determine, and +scarce known to themselves--such as may be met on almost every ship that +sails the sea. + +The chief officer of the _Condor_, accustomed to a man-o'-war, with its +rigid discipline, is already disgusted with what is going on aboard the +merchantman. He was so before leaving San Francisco, having also some +anxiety about the navigation of the vessel. With a crew so incapable, +he anticipated difficulty, if not danger. But now that he is out upon +the open ocean, he is sure of the first, and keenly apprehensive of the +last. For, in less than a single day's sailing, he has discovered that +the sailors, besides counting short, are otherwise untrustworthy. +Several of them are not sailors at all, but "longshore" men; one or two +mere "land-lubbers," who never laid hand upon a ship's rope before +clutching those of the _Condor_. With such, what chance will there be +for working the ship in a storm? But there is a danger he dreads far +more than the mismanagement of ropes and sails--insubordination. Even +thus early, it has shown itself among the men, and may at any moment +break out into open mutiny. All the more likely from the character of +Captain Lantanas, with which he has become well acquainted. + +The Chilian skipper is an easy-going man, given to reading books of +natural history, and collecting curiosities--as evinced by his brace of +Bornean apes, and other specimens picked up during his trading trip to +the Indian Archipelago. A man in every way amiable, but just on this +account the most unfitted to control a crew, such as that he has shipped +for the voyage to Valparaiso. + +Absorbed in his studies, he takes little notice of them, leaving them in +the hands, and to the control, of his _piloto_, Harry Blew. + +But the ex-man-o'-war's man, though a typical British sailor, is not one +of the happy-go-lucky kind. He has been entrusted with something more +than the navigation of the Chilian ship--with the charge of two fair +ladies in her cabin; and although these have not shown themselves on +deck, he knows they are safe, and well waited on by the black cook; who +is also steward, and who, under his rough sable skin, has a kindly, +gentle heart. + +It is when thinking of his cabin passengers, that the _Condor's_ first +officer feels apprehensive, and then not from the incapacity of her +sailors, but their bold, indeed almost insolent, behaviour. Their +having shown something of this at first might have been excusable, or at +all events, capable of explanation. They had not yet sobered down. +Fresh from the streets of San Francisco, so lawless and licentious, it +could not be expected. But most of them have been now some days +aboard--no drink allowed them save the regular ration, with plenty of +everything else. Kind treatment from captain and mate, and still they +appear scowling and discontented, as if the slightest slur--an angry +word, even a look--would make mutiny among them. + +What can it mean? What do the men want? + +A score of times has Harry Blew thus interrogated himself, without +receiving satisfactory answer. It is to obtain this, he is now gliding +silently about the decks, and here and there concealing himself in +shadow, with the hope of overhearing some speech that will give him +explanation of the conspiracy--if conspiracy it be. + +And in this hope he is not deceived or disappointed, but successful +beyond his most sanguine expectations. For he at length obtains a clue, +not _only_ to the insubordination of the sailors, but all else that has +been puzzling him. + +And a strange problem it is, its solution appalling. + +He gets the latter while standing under a piece of sailcloth, spread +from the rail to the top of the round-house--rigged up by the carpenter +as a sun screen, while doing some work during the heat of the day, and +so left. The sky being now starless and pitch-black, with this +additional obstruction to light, Harry Blew stands in obscurity +impenetrable to the eye. A man passing, so close as almost to touch, +could not possibly see him. + +Nor is he seen by two men, who, like himself, sauntering about, have +come to a stop under the spread canvas. Unlike him, however, they are +not silent, but engaged in conversation, in a low tone, still loud +enough for him to hear every word said. And to every one he listens +with interest so engrossing, that his breath is well nigh suspended. + +He understands what is said; all the easier from their talk being +carried on in English--his own tongue. For they who converse are Jack +Striker and Bill Davis. + +And long before their dialogue comes to a close, he has not only +obtained intelligence of what has hitherto perplexed him, but gets a +glimpse of something beyond--that which sets his hair on end, almost +causing the blood to curdle in his veins. + + + +CHAPTER FORTY NINE. + +TWO "SYDNEY DUCKS." + +Jack Striker and Bill Davis are "Sydney Ducks," who have seen service in +the chain-gangs of Australia. They have also served as sailors, this +being their original calling. But since a certain voyage to the Swan +River settlement--in which they were but passengers, sent out at the +expense of Her Britannic Majesty's Government--they have had aversion to +the sea, and only take to it intermittently--when under the necessity of +working passage from port to port for other purposes. Escaping from a +colonisation forced upon them, and quite uncongenial, they had thus made +their way into California; and, after a run up the Sacramento, and a +spell at gold-seeking, with but indifferent success, had returned to San +Francisco; in the Queen City of the Pacific--finding ways of life they +liked better than the hard labour of pick, pan, and cradle. Loitering +among its low sailor-haunts, they encountered a pleasant surprise, by +meeting a man who offered them five thousand dollars each to ship in a +merchant-vessel, for the "short trip" to Panama! A wage so +disproportioned to the service asked for, of course called for +explanation; which the princely contractor gave, after having secured +their confidence. It proved satisfactory to the Sydney Ducks, who, +without further questioning, entered into the contract. The result was +their getting conducted aboard the _Condor_--she being the vessel bound +for the port of Panama. + +He who had given them this handsome engagement was not the owner of the +ship; no more was he her captain or supercargo; but a gentleman +representing himself authorised to accept their services, for a somewhat +different purpose than the mere working of her sails; and who promised +to pay them in a peculiar manner--under certain contingencies, even more +than the sum stipulated, notwithstanding its magnificence. + +The conditions were partially made known to them before setting foot on +the ship; and though an honest sailor would scornfully have rejected +them--even in the face of such tempting reward--Jack Striker and Bill +Davis have accepted them without scruple or cavil. For they are not +honest sailors; but ex-convicts, criminals still unreformed, and capable +of any misdeed--piracy, or murder--if only money can be made thereby. + +Since coming aboard the _Condor_, and mixing with her crew, they have +had additional insight into the character of their contract, and the +services required of them. They find that several other men have been +engaged in a somewhat similar way; and at a like bounteous wage--for a +while wondering at it--till after a mutual comparison of notes, and +putting together their respective scraps of intelligence, with surmises +added, they have arrived at a pretty accurate understanding of how the +land lies, and why their _entrepreneur_--who is no other than the second +mate, Padilla--has been so liberal. + +Striker, who has seen more of the world, and is the elder of the two +"ducks," has been the first to obtain this added information; and it is +for the purpose of communicating it to his old chum of the chain-gang, +he has asked the latter to step aside with him. For chancing to be cast +together in the middle watch, an opportunity offers, which the older +convict has all that day been looking out for. + +Davis, of more talkative habit, is the first to break silence; which he +does on the instant of their ducking under the sailcloth. + +"Well, old pal! what d'ye think of our present employ? Better than +breakin' stone for them Swan River roads, with twenty pound of iron +chain clinkin' at a fellow's ankles. An't it?" + +"Better'n that, yes; but not's good as it might be." + +"Tut, man, you're always grumblin'. Five thousand dollars for a trip +that isn't like to run up to a month--not more than a fortnight or three +weeks, I should say! If that don't content you, I'd like to know what +would." + +"Well, mate; I'll tell'ee what wud. _Thirty_ thousand for the trip. +An' Jack Striker an't like to be satisfied wi' anythin' much short o' +that sum." + +"You're joking, Jack?" + +"No, I an't, Bill. As you knows, I'm not o' the jokin' sort; an' now +mean what I say, sartin as I ever meant anythin' in my life. Both me +an' you oughter get thirty thousand apiece o' this yellow stuff--that at +the werry least." + +"Why, there wouldn't be enough to go round the lot that's in." + +"Yes, thar wud, an' will. Old as I am, I hain't yit quite lost hearin'. +My yeers are as sharp as they iver wor, an' jist as reliable. Larst +night I heerd a whisper pass atween Padilla an' another o' them Spanish +chaps, that's put me up to somethink." + +"What did you hear?" + +"That the swag'll tot up to the total o' three hundred thousand +dollars." + +"The deuce it will! Why, they said it wasn't half that much. Padilla +himself told me so." + +"No matter what he's told you. I tell ye now, it's all o' the six +figures I've sayed. In coorse, it's their interest to make it out small +as they possibly can; seein' as our share's to be a percentage. I know +better now; an' knowin' it, an't agoin' to stan' none o' theer nonsense. +Neyther shud you, Bill. We both o' us are 'bout to risk the same as +any o' the t'others." + +"That's true enough." + +"In coorse it is. An' bein' so, we oughter share same as them; can, an' +will, if we stick well thegither. It's jest as eezy one way as +t'other." + +"There's something in what you say, mate." + +"Theer's every thin' in it, an' nothin' more than our rights. As I've +sayed, we all risk the same, an' that's gettin' our necks streetched. +For if we make a mucker o' the job, it'll be a hangin' matter sure. An' +I dar say theer's got to be blood spilt afore it's finished." + +"What would you advise our doing? You know, Jack, I'll stand by you, +whatever you go in for." + +"Well; I want it to be a fair divide, all round; detarmined it shell be. +Why shud the four Spanish fellas get a dollar more'n us others? As +I've obsarved, two of them, Gomez an' Hernandez, have set theer eyes on +the weemen folks. It's eezy to see that's part o' theer game. Beside, +I heerd them talkin' o't. Gomez be arter the light girl, an' Hernandez +the dark un. 'Bout that, they may do as they like for ought's I care. +But it's all the more reezun why they oughtent be so greedy 'bout the +shinin' stuff. As for Mister Gomez, it's plain he's the head man o' the +lot; an' the second mate, who engaged us, is only same's the others, an' +'pears to be controlled by him. 'Twar 'tween them two I overheerd the +confab; Gomez sayin' to Padilla that the dust lyin' snug in the +cabin-lockers was full valley for three hundred thousan'. An' as +theer's eleven o' us to share, that 'ud be nigh on thirty thousan' +apiece, if my 'rithmetic an't out o' recknin'. Bill Davis; I say, we +oughter stan' up for our rights." + +"Certainly we should. But there'll be difficulty in getting them, I +fear." + +"Not a bit--not a morsel, if we stick out for 'em. The four Spanyards +means to go snacks 'mong themselves. But theer be seven o' us +outsiders; an' when I tell the others what I've tolt you, they'll be all +on our side--if they an't the foolishest o' fools." + +"They won't be that, I take it. A difference of twenty thousand dollars +or so in their favour, will make them sensible enough. But what's to be +the upshot, or, as they call it in the theatre play-bills, what's the +programme!" + +"Well, mate, so far as I've been put up to it, we're to run on till we +get to the coast, somewheer near the Issmus o' Panyma. Theer we'll +sight land, and soon's we do, the ship's to be scuttled--we first +securin' the swag,' an' takin' it ashore in one o' the boats. We're to +land on some part o' the coast that's known to Gomez, he says. Then +we're to make for some town, when we've got things straight for puttin' +in appearance in a explainable way. Otherways, we might get pulled up, +an' all our trouble 'ud be for nowt. Worse, every man-Jack on us 'ud +have a good chance to swing for it." + +"And the young ladies?" + +"They're to go along wi' Gomez an' Hernandez. How they mean to manage +it, I can't tell ye. They'll be a trouble, no doubt, as allers is wi' +weemen, an' it be a pity we're hampered wi' 'em; mor'n that, it's +reg'lar dangersome. They may get the hul kit o' us into a scrape. +Howsever, we'll hev to take our chances, since theer's no help for it. +The two chaps 'pear to be reg'lar struck with 'em. Well, let 'em carry +off the gurls an' welcome. But, as I've sayed, thet oughter make 'em +less objectin' to a fair divide o' the dust." + +"What's to be done with the others--the old Spaniard and skipper, with +the black cook and first mate?" + +"They're to go down wi' the ship. The intenshun is, to knock all o' 'em +on the head, soon's we come in sight o' land." + +"Well, Jack, for the first three I don't care a brass farthing. They're +foreigners and blacks; therefore, nothing to us. But, as Blew chances +to be a countryman of ours, I'd rather it didn't go so hard with him." + +"Balderdash, Bill Davis! What have you or me to do wi' feelins o' that +sort? Countryman, indeed! A fine country, as starves ten millions o' +the like o' us two; an' if we try to take what by nateral right's our +own, sends us out o' it wi' handcuffs round our wrists, an' iron +jewellery on our ankles! All stuff an' psalm-singin' that 'bout one's +own country, an' fella-countryman. If we let him off, we might meet him +somewhere, when we an't a-wantin' to. He'll have to be sarved same as +the t'other three. There be no help for't, if we don't want to have +hemp roun' our thrapples." + +"I suppose you're right, Striker; though it does seem a pity too. But +what reason have the Spaniards for keepin' the thing back? Why should +they wait till we get down by Panama? As the yellow stuff's lyin' +ready, sure it might be grabbed at once, an' then we'd have more time to +talk of how it's to be divided? What's the difficulty about our taking +it now?" + +"'Tant the takin' o' it. That'll be eezy work; an' when the time comes, +we'll have it all our own way. We could toss the four overboard in the +skippin' o' a flea. But then, how's the ship to be navvygated without +the skipper an' first mate?" + +"Surely we can do without them?" + +"That's jest what we can't. O' all our crew, theer's only them two as +hev the knowledge o' charts an' chronometers, an' the like; for him as +is actin' second confesses he don't know nothin' 'bout sich. Tharfor, +though we're in a good sound craft, without the skipper, or Blew, we'd +be most as good as helpless. We're now on the biggest o' all oceans, +an' if we stood on the wrong tack, we might niver set eyes on land--or +only to be cast away on some dangersome shore. Or, what 'ud be bad as +eyther, get overhauled by some man-o'-war, an' not able to gie account +o' ourselves. Theer's the diffyculty, don't 'ee see, Bill? For thet +reezun the Spanyards have agreed to let things alone till we've ran down +nigh Panyma. Theer Gomez says he knows o' a long streetch o' +uninhabited coast, where we'll be safe goin' ashore." + +"Well, I suppose that'll be the best way, after all. If a man has the +money, it don't make much difference where he sets foot on shore; an' no +doubt we'll find sport down at Panyma, good as anywheres else." + +"Theer ye be right, Bill. When a cove's flush there's pleasurin' +iverywhere. Goold's the only thing as gives it." + +"With the prospect of such big plunder, we can afford to be patient," +says Davis resignedly. + +"I an't agoin' to be patient for the paltry five thousand they promised. +No, Bill; neyther must you. We've equal rights wi' the rest, an' we +must stan' out for 'em." + +"Soon as you say the word, Jack, I'm at your back. So'll all the +others, who're in the same boat with ourselves." + +"They oughter, an' belike will; tho' theer's a weak-witted fool or two +as may take talkin' into it. I means to go at 'em the night, soon's +I've finished my trick at the wheel, the which 'll soon be on. Ay! +theer's the bells now! I must aft. When I come off, Bill, you be up by +the night-heads, an' have that Dutch chap as is in our watch 'long wi' +ye; an' also the Dane. They're the likeliest to go in wi' us at oncet, +an' we'll first broach it to them." + +"All right, old pal; I'll be there." + +The two plotters step out from under the awning; Striker turning aft to +take his "trick" at the wheel, the other sauntering off in the direction +of the forecastle. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY. + +AN APPALLING PROSPECT. + +Harry Blew stands aghast--his hair on end, the blood coursing chill +through his veins. + +No wonder, after listening to such revelations! A plot diabolical--a +scheme of atrocity unparalleled--comprising three horrible crimes: +robbery, the abduction of women, and the murder of men; and among the +last, himself. + +Now knows he the cause of the crew's insubordination; too clearly +comprehends it. Three hundred thousand dollars of gold-dust stowed in +the cabin-lockers! + +News to him; for Captain Lantanas had not made him acquainted with the +fact--the treasure having been shipped before his coming aboard. +Indeed, on that same night when he went after Silvestre; for at the very +time he was knocking at the ship-agent's office-door, Don Tomas, with a +trusty waterman, was engaged in putting it aboard the Chilian ship. + +An unfortunate arrangement, after all. And now too certain of ending +disastrously, not only for Don Gregorio, but those dear to him, with +others less interested, yet linked to his fate. + +Though the ex-man-o'-war's man is neither doubtful nor incredulous of +what he has just heard, it is some time before his mind can grasp all +the details. So filled is he with astonishment, it is natural his +thoughts should be confused, and himself excited. + +But soon he reflects calmly; and revolving everything over, perceives +clearly enough what are the crimes to be committed, with the motives for +committing them. There can be no ambiguity about the nature of the +nefarious conspiracy. It has all been hatched, and pre-arranged, on +shore; and the scoundrels have come aboard specially for its execution. +The four Spaniards--or Californians, as he believes them to be--must +have had knowledge of the treasure being shipped, and, in their plan to +appropriate it, have engaged the others to assist them. Striker's talk +has told this; while revealing also the still more fiendish designs of +abduction and murder. + +The prospect is appalling; and as he reflects upon it, Harry Blew feels +his heart sink within him--strong though that heart be. For a dread +fate is impending over himself, as well as those he has promised to +protect. + +How it is to be averted! How he is to save Carmen Montijo and Inez +Alvarez! How save himself? + +These questions come crowding together, and repeat themselves over and +over; but without suggesting answer. He cannot think of one that is +satisfactory; he sees no chance of escape. The crew are all in the +plot--every man of them--either as principals, or engaged assistants. +The conversation of the two convicts has told this. The second mate +same as the rest; which to him, Harry Blew, causes no surprise. He had +already made up his mind about Padilla; observing his sympathy with +those who were showing insubordination. He had also noticed that +whatever was up among them, Gil Gomez was the directing spirit; +dominating Padilla, notwithstanding the latter's claim to superior +authority as one of the ship's officers; while Velarde and Hernandez +seemed also to be controlled by him. The last, Harry Blew has +discovered to be a landsman, with no sea-experience whatever; when found +out, excusing himself on the plea that he wished to work his passage to +Panama. The position of the other seven is understood by what Striker +said. All are equal in the scheme of pillage and murder--though not to +have equal reward. + +Bringing them one after another before his mind; recalling his +experience of them--which, though short, has given him some knowledge of +their character--the _Condor's_ first officer cannot think of one likely +to take sides with him. They are all men of iniquity; and in defending +the innocent he will have to stand alone. For it will amount to almost +that, with no other help than Captain Lantanas, Don Gregorio, and the +cook; the first, a slight slender man, with just strength enough to +handle a telescope; the second, aged, and something of an invalid; the +third, for fighting purposes, scarce worth thinking of. His fidelity +might be depended upon; but he is also an oldish man, and would count +for little in a conflict, with such desperadoes as those who design +making themselves masters of the ship. + +All these points present themselves to the mind of the first mate +clearly, impressively. + +A thought of telling Captain Lantanas what he has discovered, and which +at first naturally occurred to him, he no longer entertains. The +trusting Chilian skipper would scarce give credit to such an atrocious +scheme. And if he did, in all likelihood it would result in his taking +some rash step, which would but quicken their action, and bring sooner +on the fatal catastrophe. + +No; 'twill never do to make him acquainted with the danger, great as it +is. + +Nor yet should Don Gregorio know of it. The terrible secret must be +kept from both, and carefully. Either of them aware of it, and in an +hour after, all might be over--the tragedy enacted, and its victims +consigned to the sea--himself, Harry Blew, being one of them! + +Still crouching under the sail, he trembles, as in fancy he conjures up +a fearful scene; vividly, as though the reality were before his eyes. +In the midst of the open ocean, or close to land, the tragedy to be +enacted will be all the same. The girls seized; the captain, Don +Gregorio, the cook, and himself, shot down, or poniarded; after that, +the gold dragged out of the lockers; the vessel scuttled, and sunk; a +boat alone left to carry the pirates ashore, with their spoils and +captives! + +Contemplating such a scene--even though only in imagination--it is not +strange that the _Condor's_ first officer feels a shivering throughout +his frame. He feels it in every fibre. And reflection fails to give +relief; since it suggests to him no plan for saving himself. On the +contrary, the more he dwells on it, the more is he sensible of the +danger--sees it in all its stark-naked reality. Against such odds a +conflict would be hopeless. It could only end in death to all who have +been singled out, himself perhaps the first. + +For a time he stands in silent cogitation, with despair almost +paralysing his heart. He is unable to think steadily, or clearly. +Doubtful, unfeasible schemes shape themselves in his mind; idle thoughts +flit across his brain; all the while wild tumultuous emotions coursing +through his soul. + +At length, and after prolonged reflection, he seems to have made a +resolve. As his countenance is in shadow, its expression cannot be +seen; but, judging by the words that are muttered by his lips, it is one +which should be unworthy of a British sailor--in short, that of a +_traitor_. + +For his soliloquy seems to show that he has yielded to craven fear-- +intends surrendering up the sacred trust reposed in him, and along with +it his honour! + +The words are: + +"I must cast my lot in along wi' them. It's the only chance; an' for +the savin' o' my own life! _I'll do that Lord help me, I'll do it_!" + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY ONE. + +PLOT UPON PLOT. + +The _Condor_ is sailing barge, with a light breeze several points abaft +the beam. + +Jack Striker is at the wheel; and as the sea is smooth he finds it easy +steering, having little to do but keep the barque steady by taking an +occasional squint at the compass-card. + +The moon--which has just risen--shining in his face, shows it to be that +of a man over fifty, with the felon in its every line and lineament. It +is beardless, pock-pitted, with thick shapeless lips, broad hanging +jowls, nostrils agape, and nose flattened like the snout of a bull-dog. +Eyes gosling-green, both bleary, one of them bloodshot. For all, eyes +that, by his own boast, "can see into a millstone as far as the man who +picks it." + +He has not been many minutes at his post when he sees some one +approaching from the waist of the ship; a man, whom he makes out to be +the first mate. + +"Comin' to con me," growls the ex-convict. "Don't want any o' his +connin', not I. Jack Striker can keep a ship on her course well's him, +or any other board o' this craft." + +He is on the starboard side of the wheel, while the mate is approaching +along the port gangway. The latter, after springing up to the +poop-deck, stops opposite the steersman, as he does so, saying: + +"Well, Striker, old chap! not much trouble with her to-night. She's +going free too, with the wind in the right quarter. We ought to be +making good nine knots?" + +"All o' that, I daresay, sir," rejoins Striker, mollified by the affable +manner in which the first officer has addressed him. "The barque ain't +a bad 'un to go, though she be a queery-rigged craft's ever I war aboard +on." + +"You've set foot on a goodish many, I should say, judgin' from the way +ye handle a helm. I see you understan' steerin' a ship." + +"I oughter, master," answers the helmsman, further flattered by the +compliment to his professional skill. "Jack Striker's had a fair show +o' schoolin' to that bizness." + +"Been a man-o'-war's man, hain't you?" + +"Ay, all o' that. Any as doubts it can see the warrant on my back, an' +welcome to do so. Plenty o' the cat's claws there, an' I don't care a +brass fardin' who knows it." + +"Neyther need ye. Many a good sailor can show the same. For myself, I +hain't had the cat, but I've seed a man-o'-war sarvice, an' some +roughish treatment too. An' I've seed sarvice on ships man-o'-war's men +have chased--likin' that sort a little better; I did." + +"Indeed!" exclaims the ex-convict, turning his eyes with increased +interest on the man thus frankly confessing himself. "Smuggler? Or +maybe slaver?" + +"Little bit o' both. An' as you say 'bout the cat, _I_ don't care a +brass fardin' who knows o' it. It's been a hardish world wi' me; plenty +o' ups an' downs; the downs oftener than the ups, Just now things are +lookin' sort o' uppish. I've got my berth here 'count o' the scarcity +o' hands in San Francisco, an' the luck o' knowin' how to take sights +an' keep a log. Still the pay an't much considerin' the chances left +behind. I daresay I'd 'a done a deal better by stayin' in Californey, +an' goin' on to them gold-diggin's up in the Sacramenta mountains." + +"You han't been theer, han't ye?" + +"No. Never went a cable's length ayont the town o' Francisco." + +"Maybe, jest as well ye didn't, Master Blew. Me an' Bill Davis tried +that dodge; we went all the way to the washin's on Feather River; but +foun' no gold, only plenty o' hard work, wi' precious little to eat, an' +less in the way o' drink. Neyther o' us likin' the life, we put back +for the port." + +For all his frankness in confessing to the cat-o'-nine tails on board a +warship, Striker says nothing about a rope of a different kind he and +his chum Davis were very near getting around their necks on the banks of +that same Feather River, and from which they escaped by a timely retreat +upon "'Frisco." + +"Well," rejoins Blew, in a tone of resignation; "as you say, maybe I've +did the wisest thing after all, in not goin' that way. I might 'a come +back empty-handed, same as yerself an' Davis. Ye say liquor war scarce +up there. That 'ud never 'a done for me. I must have my reg'lar +allowance, or--. Well, no use sayin' what. As an old man-o'-war's man +you can can understan' me, Striker. An' as the same, I suppose you +won't object to a tot now?" + +"Two, for that matter," promptly responds Striker, like all his sort-- +drouthy. + +"Well; here's a drop o' rum--the best Santa Cruz. Help yourself!" + +Blew presents a black-jack bottle to the helmsman, who, detaching one +hand from the spokes, takes hold of the bottle. Then, raising it to his +lips, and keeping it there for a prolonged spell, returns it to its +owner, who, for the sake of sociability, takes a pull himself. All this +done, the dialogue is renewed, and progresses in even a more friendly +way than before; the Santa Cruz having opened the heart of the Sydney +Duck to a degree of familiarity; while, on his side, the mate, throwing +aside all reserve, lets himself down to a level with the foremast-man. + +It ends in their establishing a confidence, mutual and complete, of that +character known as "thickness between thieves." + +Blew first strikes the chord that puts their spirits _en rapport_, by +saying: + +"Ye tell me, Striker, that ye've had hard times an' some severe +punishment. So's had Harry Blew. An' ye say ye don't care about that. +No more cares he. In that we're both o' us in the same boat. An' now +we're in the same ship--you a sailor afore the mast, I first officer-- +but for all the difference in our rank, we can work thegether. An' +there's a way we can both o' us do better. Do you want me to tell it +ye?" + +"Ay, ay; tell it. Jack Striker's ears are allus open to 'ear 'ow he can +better his sittivation in life. I'm a listener." + +"All right. I've observed you're a good hand at the helm. Would ye be +as good to go in for a job that'll put a pile o' money in your pocket?" + +"That depends. Not on what sort o' job; I don't mean that. But what's +the figger--the 'mount o' the money--how much?" + +"Puttin' it in gold, as much as you can carry; ay, enough to make you +stagger under it." + +"An' you ask if I'm good for a job like that? Funny question to ask--it +are; 'specially puttin' it to ole Jack Striker. He's good for't--wi' +the gallows starin' him full in the face. Danged if he an't!" + +"Well; I thought you wouldn't be the one to show basket-faced 'bout it. +It's a big thing I hev on hand, an' there'll be a fortin' for all who go +in for it." + +"Show Jack Striker the chance o' goin' in, an' he'll show you a man as +knows no backin' out." + +"Enough, shipmate. The chance is close to hand; aboard o' this ship. +Below, in her cabin-lockers, there's stowed somethin' like half a ton o' +glitterin' gold-dust. It belongs to the old Spaniard that's passenger. +What's to hinder us to lay hands on it? If we can only get enough o' +the crew to say _yes_, there needs be no difficulty. Them as won't 'll +have to stan' aside. Though, from what I see o' them, it's like they'll +all come in. Divided square round, there'd be atween twenty an' thirty +thousand dollars apiece. Do that tempt ye. Striker?" + +"Rayther. Wi' thirty thousand dollars I'd ne'er do another stroke o' +work." + +"You needn't then. You can have all o' that, by joinin' in, an' helpin' +me to bring round the rest. Do you know any o' them ye could speak to +'bout the bizness--wi' safety, I mean?" + +"I do. Two or three. One sartin'; my ole chum, Bill Davis. He can be +trusted wi' a secret o' throat-cuttin', let alone a trifle such as you +speak o'. An' now, Master Blew, since you've seen fit to confide in me, +I'm goin' to gi'e ye a bit o' my confidince. It's but fair 'tween two +men as hev got to understan' one the tother. I may as well tell ye that +I know all about the stuff in the cabin-lockers--hev knowed it iver +since settin' fut in the _Condor's_ forc's'l. Me an' Bill war talkin' +o't jist afore I coomed to the wheel. You an't the only one as hez set +theer hearts on hevin' it. Them Spanish chaps hez got it all arranged +arready--an' had afore they shipped 'board this barque. Thar's the four +o' 'em, as I take it, all standin' in equal; while the rest o' the crew +war only to get so much o' a fixed sum." + +"Striker, ye 'stonish me!" + +"Well, I'm only tellin' ye what be true, an' what I knows to be so. I'm +gled you're agreeable to go in wi' us; the which 'll save trouble, an' +yer own life as well. For I may as well tell ye, Master Blew, that +they'd made up thar minds to send ye to the bottom o' the briny, 'long +wi' skipper an' the ole Spaniard, wi' the black throwed into the +bargain." + +"That's a nice bit o' news to hear, by jingo! Well, Jack, I'm thankful +to ye for communicatin' it. Lord! it's lucky for me we've this night +chanced to get talkin' thegether." + +"Thar may be luck in't all roun'. Bill an' me'd made up our minds to +stan' out for a equal divide o' the dust--like shares to ivery man. +Shud there be any dispute 'bout that bein' fair, wi' you on our side, +we'll eezy settle it our way, 'spite o' them Spanyards. If they refuse +to agree, an' it coomes to fightin', then Jack Striker's good for any +two on 'em." + +"An' Harry Blew for any other two. No fear but we can fix that. How +many do you think will be with us?" + +"Most all, I shud say, 'ceptin' the Spanyards themselves. It consarns +the rest same's it do us. At all events, we're bound to ha' the +majority." + +"When do you propose we should begin broachin' it to them?" + +"Straight away, if you say the word. I'll try some o' 'em soon as I've +goed off from heer. Thar be several on the watch as 'll be takin' a +drop o' grog thegether, 'fore we turns in. No better time nor now." + +"True. So set at 'em at once, Striker. But mind ye, mate, be cautious +how ye talk to them, an' don't commit ayther of us too far, till you've +larnt their temper. I'll meet ye in the first dog-watch the morrow. +Then you can tell me how the land's likely to lie." + +"All right. I'll see to it in the smooth way. Ye can trust Jack +Striker for that." + +"Take another suck o' the Santa Cruz. If this trip proves prosp'rous in +the way we're plannin' it, neyther you nor me 'll need to go without the +best o' good liquor for the rest o' our lives." + +Again Striker clutches at the proffered bottle, and holds it to his +head--this time till he has drained it dry. + +Returned to him empty, Harry Blew tosses it overboard. Then parting +from the steersman, he commences moving forward, as with the design to +look after other duties. + +As he steps out from under the shadow of the spanker, the moon gleaming +athwart his face, shows on it an expression which neither pencil nor pen +could depict. Difficult indeed to interpret it. The most skilled +physiognomist would be puzzled to say, whether it is the reproach of +conscious guilt, or innocence driven to desperation. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY TWO. + +SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE. + +In the _Condor's_ forecastle. + +It is her third night since leaving San Francisco, and the second watch +is on deck; the men on the first having gone down below. That on duty +is Padilla's; in it Gomez, Hernandez, Velarde, and the two sailors of +nationality unknown. + +The off-watch consists of Striker, Davis, the Frenchman, who is called +La Crosse, with the Dutchman and Dane. + +All these five are in the forepeak, the chief mate, as they suppose, +having retired to rest. + +They have been below for some time, and it is now near eleven o'clock of +the night. All have finished their suppers, and are seated, some on the +sides of their bunks, some on sea-chests. A large one of the latter, +cleated in the centre of the floor, does service as a table. Upon it is +a black bottle containing rum--the sailor's orthodox drink. In his +hand, each holds his pannikin, while in every mouth there is a pipe, and +the forecastle is full of smoke. A pack of playing-cards lies on the +lid of the chest; greasy and begrimed, as if they had seen long service; +though not any on this particular night, are in the hands of those +sitting around, who show no inclination to touch them. They may have +been used by the men of the watch now on deck; this, probably enough, +since the cards are Spanish, as told by their picturing. + +Those occupying the forecastle now have something on their minds more +important than card-playing: a question of money; but not money to be +made in that way. What they are thinking about, and talking of, is the +gold-dust in the cabin-lockers; not how it is to be got out of them, but +how it shall be distributed after it is out. + +This is not the first time the subject has been before them. There has +been talk of it all that day; though only between them in twos, and +informally. Since finding out how things stood, and especially after +his confab with the first mate, Striker, as promised, has been sounding +his shipmates, one after another. He has communicated his purpose to +all, and had their approval of it--the four Spaniards excepted. These +he has not yet approached; but this night intends doing so--as the +others insist that an immediate understanding be arrived at, and the +thing definitely settled. + +The five are now waiting till those on the watch, not required for +deck-duty, come below. All of them have had intimation they will be +wanted in the forecastle; and as the night is fine, with no occasion for +changing sails or other occupation, only the helmsman need absent +himself from a muster, whose summons to most of the second watch has +appeared a little strange. + +They obey it, notwithstanding; and after a while the two sailors come +down--the nondescripts without name; though one goes by the sobriquet of +"Old Tarry," the other having had bestowed upon him the equally +distinctive, but less honourable, appellation of "Slush." + +Shortly after, the second mate, Padilla, makes his appearance, along +with him Velarde; the former a man who has seen some forty winters, +rugged in frame, with bronzed complexion, and features forbidding, as +any that ever belonged to freebooters; the latter in this respect not so +unlike him, only younger, of a more slender frame, and less rude in +speech, as in manner. + +Soon as setting foot on the forecastle's floor, Padilla, as an officer +of the ship, speaking in tone of authority, demands to know why they +have been summoned thither. + +Striker, putting himself forward as the spokesman of the off-watch, +replies: + +"Hadn't ye better sit down, master mate? The subjeck we're goin' to +discuss may take a start o' time an' it's as cheap sittin' as standin'. +Maybe ye won't mind joinin' us in a drink?" + +Saying this, the ex-convict clutches at the bottle pours some rum into +his pannikin, and offers it to Padilla. + +The Spaniard accepting, drinks; and passing the cup to Velarde, sits +down. + +The latter imitating him as to the drink, takes seat by his side; Old +Tarry and Slush having already disposed of themselves. + +"Now," pursues the second mate, "let's hear what it's all about." + +"Theer be two not yit among us," says Striker. "In coorse, one's at the +wheel." + +"Yes; Gomez is there," responds Padilla. + +"Where be Hernandez?" + +"I don't know. Likely, along with him." + +"Don't much matter," puts in Davis. "I dar' say we can settle the thing +without either. You begin, Jack; tell Mr Padilla, and the rest, what +we've been talking about." + +"'Twon't take a very long time to tell it," responds Striker. "Theer be +no great need for wastin' words. All I've got to say are, that the +_swag shud be eekilly divided_." + +Padilla starts, Velarde doing the same. + +"What do you mean?" asks the former, putting on an air of innocence. + +"I means what I've saved--that the swag shud be eekilly divided." + +"And yet I don't understand you." + +"Yis, ye do. Come, Master Padilla, 'tain't no use shammin' ignorance-- +not wi' Jack Striker, at all events. He be too old a bird to get +cheated wi' chaff. If ye want to throw dust into my eyes, it must be o' +the sort that's stowed aft in the cuddy. Now, d'ye understan' me?" +Padilla looks grave, so does Velarde. Old Tarry and Slush show no sign +of feeling; both being already prepared for the demand Striker intended +to make, and having given their promise to back it. + +"Well," says the second mate, "you appear to be talking of some +gold-dust. And, I suppose, you know all about it!" + +"That we do," responds Striker. + +"Well, what then?" asks Padilla. + +"Only what I've sayed," rejoins the Sydney Duck. "If you weesh, I can +say it over 'gain. That theer yellow stuff shud be measured out to the +crew o' this craft share and share alike, even hands all roun' without +respectin' o' parsons. An', by God! it shall be so deevided--shall, +will, an' must." + +"Yes!" endorses Davis, with like emphatic affirmation. + +"It shall, and it must!" + +"_Pe gar_, most it!" adds the Frenchman; followed in the same strain by +Stronden the Dane, and Van Houton the Dutchman, chorused by Old Tarry +and Slush. + +"It an't no use your stannin' out, masters," continues Striker, +addressing himself to the two Spaniards. "Ye see the majority's against +ye; an' in all cases o' the kind, wheresomever I've seed 'em, the +majority means the right. Besides, in this partickler case we're askin' +no moren' what's right--refarrin' to the job afore us. I'm willin' to +conceed, that you Spanish chaps hev hed most to do wi' the first +plannin' o' the thing; as alser, that ye brought the rest o' us into it. +But what signify the bringin' in compared wi' the gettin' out? In sich +scrapes, 'taint the beginnin' but the eend as is dangersome. An' we've +all got to unnergo that danger; the which I needn't particklarly speak +o', as every man o' ye must feel it 'bout the nape o' his neck, seein' +the risk he'll hev to run o' gettin' that streetched. It's eequil all +roun', and tharfor the reward for runnin' it shed be eequil too. So say +Jack Striker." + +"So I, and I, and I," echo the others; all save Padilla and Velarde, who +remain silent and scowling. + +"Yis," continues Striker, "an' theer be one who 'ant present among us, +as oughter have his share too. I don't mean either Mr Gomez or +Hernandez. Them two shud be contented, seein' as they're more after the +weemen than the money, an' nobody as I know o' carin' to cut 'em out +there. It's true him I refer to hez come into the thing at the 'leventh +hour, as ye may say--after 'twar all planned. But he mote a gied us +trouble by stannin' apart. Tharfore, I say, let's take him in on shares +wi' the rest." + +"Whom are you speaking of?" demands Padilla. + +"I needn't tell ye," responds the senior of the Sydney Ducks! "If I +an't mistook, that's him a comin' down, an' he can speak for hisself." + +At the words, a footstep is heard upon the forecastle stair. A pair of +legs is seen descending; after them a body--the body of Harry Blew! + +Padilla looks scared; Velarde the same. Both fancy their conspiracy +discovered, their scheme blown; and that Striker, with all his talk, has +been misleading them. They almost believe they are to be set upon and +put in irons; and that for this very purpose the first officer is +entering the forecastle. + +They are soon undeceived, however, on hearing what he has to say. +Striker draws it out, repeating the conversation passed, and the demand +he has been making. + +Thus Harry Blew gives rejoinder: + +"I'm with ye, shipmates, to the end, be that sweet or bitter. Striker +talks straight, an' his seems the only fair way of settlin' the +question. The majority must decide. There's two not here, an' they've +got to be consulted. They're both by the wheel. Tharfore, let's go +aft, an' talk the thing there. There's no fear for our bein' +interrupted. The skipper's asleep, an' we've got the ship to +ourselves." + +So saying, he leads up the ladder, the rest rising from their seats, and +crowding after. + +Once on deck, they cluster around the forehatch, and there stop; the +first mate having something to say to them before proceeding farther. + +The second does not take part in this conference; but stealing past +unseen, glides on towards the after-part of the ship. + +Soon the others saunter in the same direction, in twos and threes, +straggling along the waist, but again gathering into a group around the +capstan. There the moonlight, falling full upon their faces, betrays +the expression of men in mutiny; but mutiny unopposed. For on the +quarterdeck no one meets them. The traitorous first officer has spoken +truly: the captain is asleep; they have the ship to themselves! + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY THREE. + +"CASTLES IN SPAIN." + +Gomez is still at the wheel; his "trick" having commenced at the change +of the watches. As known, he is not alone, but with Hernandez beside +him. + +Both are youngish men, neither above thirty; and both of swarthy +complexion, though with beards of different colours; that of Gomez +black, the other reddish-brown. Besides having heavy moustaches, their +whiskers stand well forward on their jaws, and around their throats; +growing so luxuriantly as to conceal the greater portion of their faces; +the expression upon which it is difficult to determine. Equally to tell +aught of their figures, draped as these are in rough sailor toggery, cut +wide and hanging loosely about their bodies. Both, however, appear of +about medium height, Gomez a little the taller, and more strongly built. +On their heads are the orthodox "sou'-wester" hats; that of Gomez drawn +slouching over eyes that almost continually glow with a sullen lurid +light, as if he were always either angry or on the point of becoming so. +At the same time he habitually keeps his glance averted, as though +wishing to conceal either his thoughts or his features; it may be both. + +Acting in the capacity of a common sailor, he has nevertheless hitherto +appeared to control the second mate, as most others of the crew, and +more especially the Spaniards. + +This, alleged by Striker, has been observed by Harry Blew himself; so +that of the conspirators Gomez is unquestionably chief. Though Padilla +engaged the hands, the instructions must have proceeded from him, and +all were shipped on conditions similar to those accepted by the Sydney +Ducks. + +Five thousand dollars, for less than a month's service, would be wages +too unprecedentedly large to be offered without creating suspicion of +some sinister intent. Nor did he, who offered it, leave this point +untouched. While promising such big bounty, he exacted a promise in +return: that each recipient of it was to bear a hand in _whatever he +might be called on to do_. + +The men so indefinitely engaged, and on such latitudinarian terms, were +not the ones to stick at trifles; and most of them stepped aboard the +Chilian ship prepared to assist in the perpetrating of any known crime +in the calendar. Since becoming better acquainted with the particulars +of what they have been shipped for, not one of them has shown +disposition to back out of it. They are still ready to do the deed; +but, as seen, under changed conditions. + +Gomez is not yet aware of the strike that has taken place; though during +the day he has heard some whisperings, and is half expecting trouble +with his confederates. Hernandez also, though it is not of this they +are now conversing as they stand together at the wheel. + +The theme which engages them is altogether different; beauty, not booty, +being the subject of their discourse, which is carried on in a low tone, +though loud enough to be heard by anyone standing near. + +But they are not afraid. _No_ one is within earshot. Their comrades of +the watch are away in the forward part of the vessel, while those of the +off-watch are below in her forepeak--the skipper asleep in his cabin-- +the passengers in theirs. + +It is about two of these last they are talking; and in terms, that, for +common sailors, might seem strange--rough ribald men bandying free +speech, and making familiar remarks, about such delicate high-born dames +as Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez! + +But not strange to one acquainted with Gil Gomez and Jose Hernandez--and +too intelligible if knowing their intention towards these ladies. It +may be learnt by listening to their conversation; Hernandez, who has +introduced the subject, asking: + +"About the _muchachas_? What are we to do with them after getting +ashore?" + +"Marry them, of course," promptly answers the other. "That's what I +mean doing with the beautiful Dona Carmen. Don't you intend the same +with Dona Inez?" + +"Of course--if I can." + +"Can! There need be no difficulty about it, _camarado_." + +"I hope not; though I think there will, and a good deal. There's +certain to be some." + +"In what way?" + +"Suppose they don't give their consent!" + +"A fig for their consent! We shall force it! Don't be letting that +scare you. Whether they're agreeable or not, we'll have a marriage +ceremony, or the form of one--all the same. I can fix that, or I'm much +mistaken about the place we're going to, and the sort of men we may +expect to meet there. When I last looked on Santiago De Veragua-- +bidding adieu to a place that was rather pleasant--I left behind a few +old familiars, who are not likely to have forgotten me, though long +years have rolled by since. Some there, who will still be willing, and +ready, to do me a service, I doubt not; especially now I have the means +to pay for it, and handsomely. If the Padre Padierna be yet alive, +he'll marry me to Carmen Montijo without asking _her_ any questions; or, +if he did, caring what answers she might give to them. It's now nine +years since I saw the worthy Father, and he may have kicked up his heels +long ago; though that's not likely. He was a tough old sinner, and knew +how to take care of himself. However, it won't matter much. If he's +under ground, I've got another string to my bow, in the young _extra_, +Gonzaga; who, in my time, had charge of souls in a _parrochia_, nearer +the place where I hope we shall be able to make shore. He may by this +have risen to be grand church dignitary. Whether or not, I've but +little fear of his having forgotten old times, when he and I used to go +shares in certain little adventures of the amorous kind. So you +perceive, _mio amigo_, we're not drifting towards a desert coast, +inhabited only by savages; but one where we'll find all the means and +appliances of civilisation--among them a priest, to do the little bit of +ecclesiastical service we may stand in need of, and without asking +awkward questions, or caring a _claco_ for consequences. Neither of the +two I've spoken of will trouble their consciences on that score, so long +as it's _me_. More especially after I've shown them the colour of the +stuff with which our pockets will be so plentifully lined. And if +neither of my old acquaintances turn up, there are no end of others, +who'll be willing to tie the knot that's to make us happy for life. I +tell you, _hombre_, we're steering straight towards an earthly paradise. +You'll find Santiago all that." + +"I hope it may be, as you say." + +"You may rest sure of it. Once in the old Veraguan town, with these +women as our wives--and they no longer able to question our calling them +so--we can enter society without fear of showing our faces. And with +this big _bonanza_ at our backs, we may lead a luxurious life there; or +go anywhere else it pleases us. As for returning to your dear +California, as you call it, you won't care for that when you've become a +Benedict." + +"You've made up your mind, then, that we marry them?" + +"Of course I have, and for certain reasons. Otherwise, I shouldn't so +much care, now that they're in our power, and we can dictate terms to +them. You can do as you please respecting marriage, though you have the +same reasons as myself, for changing your senorita into a senora." + +"What do you allude to?" + +"To the fact that both these damsels have large properties in Spain, as +a worthy friend in San Francisco made me aware just before leaving. The +Dona Carmen will inherit handsomely at her father's death, which is the +same as if said and done now. I don't refer to his gold-dust, but a +large landed property the old gentleman is soon coming into in Biscay; +and which, please God, I shall some day look up and take possession of. +While the other has no end of acres in Andalusia, with whole streets of +houses in Cadiz. To get all that, these women must be our wives; +otherwise, we should have no claim to it, nor yet be able to show our +faces in Spain." + +"Of course I'm glad to hear about all that," rejoins Hernandez; "but, if +you believe me, it's not altogether the money that's been tempting me +throughout this whole affair. I'm mad in love with Inez Alvarez;--so +mad, that if she hadn't a _claco_ in the world I'm willing to be her +husband." + +"Say, rather, her master; as I intend to be of Carmen Montijo. Ah! once +we get ashore, I'll teach her submission. The haughty dame will learn +what it is to be a wife. And if not an obedient one, _por Dios_! she +shall have a divorce, that is, after I've squeezed out of her the +Biscayan estate. Then she can go free, if it so please her." + +On pronouncing this speech, the expression on the speaker's countenance +is truly satanic. It seems to foreshadow a sad fate for Carmen Montijo. + +For some seconds there is silence between the plotters. Again breaking +it, Hernandez says: + +"I don't like the idea of our putting the old gentleman to death. Is +there no other way we could dispose of him?" + +"Pah, _hombre_! You're always harping on the strings of humanity; +striking discordant sounds too. There's no other way by which we can be +ourselves safe. If we let him live, he'd be sure to turn up somewhere, +and tell a tale that would get both our throats grappled by the +_garrota_. The women might do the same, if we didn't make wives of +them. Once that, and we can make exhibit of our marriage certificates, +their words will go for nought. Besides, having full marital powers, we +can take precautions against any scandal. Don Gregorio has got to die; +the skipper too; and that rough fellow, the first mate--with the old +blackamoor _cocinero_." + +"_Maldita_! I don't feel up to all that. It will be rank wholesale +murder." + +"Nothing of the sort--only drowning. And we needn't do that either. +They can be tied before we scuttle the ship, and left to go down along +with her. By the time she sinks, we'll be a long way off; and you, my +sensitive and sentimental friend, neither see nor hear anything to give +your tender heart a horror." + +"The thought of it's enough." + +"But how is it to be helped? If they're allowed to live, we'd never be +out of danger. Maybe, you'd like to abandon the business altogether, +and resign thought of ever having the pretty Inez for a wife?" + +"There you mistake, _amigo_. Sooner than that, I'll do the killing +myself. Ay, kill _her_, rather than she shall get away from me." + +"Now you're talking sense. But see! What's up yonder?" + +The interrogatory is from seeing a group of men assembled on the +fore-deck, alongside the hatch. The sky cloudless, with a full moon +overhead, shows it to be composed of nearly, if not all, the _Condor's_ +crew. The light also displays them in earnest gesticulation, while +their voices, borne aft, tell of some subject seriously debated. + +What can it be? They of the last dog-watch, long since relieved, should +be asleep in their bunks. Why are they now on deck? Their presence +there, gives surprise to the two at the wheel. + +And while engaged in expressing it, and interrogating one another, they +perceive the second mate coming aft--as also, that he makes approach in +hurried, yet stealthy manner. + +"What is it?" asks Gomez. + +"A strike," answers Padilla. "A mutiny among the men we engaged to +assist us." + +"On what grounds?" + +"They've got to know all about the gold-dust--even to the exact quantity +there is of it." + +"Indeed! And what's their demand?" + +"That we shall share it with them. They say they'll have it so." + +"The devil they do!" + +"The old _ladrone_, Striker, began it. But what will astonish you still +more; the first mate knows all our plans, and's agreed to go in along +with us. He's at the head of the mutineers, too, and insists on the +same thing. They swear, if we don't divide equally, the strongest will +take what they can. I've hastened hither to ask you what we'd best do." + +"They're determined, are they?" + +"To the death--they all say so." + +"In that case," mutters Gomez, after a moment or two spent in +reflection, "I suppose we'll have to yield to their demands. I see no +help for it. Go straight back, and say something to pacify them. Try +to put things off, till we have time to consider. _Maldita_! this is an +unexpected difficulty--ugly as sin itself!" + +Padilla is about to return to his discontented shipmates on the +forward-deck; but is saved the journey, seeing them come aft. Nor do +they hesitate to invade the sacred precincts of the quarter; for they +have no fear of being forbidden. There they pause for a few seconds, +and then continue on. + +Soon they mount to the poop-deck, and cluster around the wheel; the +whole crew now present--mates as men--all save the captain and cook. +And all take part in the colloquy that succeeds, either in speech or by +gesture. + +The debate is short, and the question in dispute soon decided. Harry +Blew and Jack Striker are the chief spokesmen; and both talk +determinedly; the others, with interests identical, backing them up by +gestures, and exclamations of encouragement. + +"Shipmates!" says the first officer, "this thing we're all after should +be equally divided between us." + +"Must be," adds Striker, with an oath. "Share and share alike. That's +the only fair way. An' the only one we'll gie in to." + +"Stick to that, Striker!" cries Davis: "we'll stand by ye." + +"_Pe gar! certainement_," endorses the Frenchman, "Vat for no? _Sacre +bleu_! ve vill. I am for _les droits de matelot_--_le vrai chose +democratique_. Vive le fair play!" + +Dane and Dutchman, with Tarry and Slush, speak in the same strain. + +The scene is as short, as violent. The Spaniards perceiving themselves +in a minority, and a position that threatens unpleasant consequences, +soon yield, declaring their consent to an equal distribution of the +"dust." + +After which, the men belonging to the off-watch retire to the +forecastle, and there betake themselves to their bunks; while the others +scatter about the decks. + +Gil Gomez remains at the wheel, his time not yet being up; Hernandez +beside him. For some moments, the two are silent, their brows shadowed +with gloom. It is not pleasant to lose fifty thousand dollars apiece; +and something like this have they lost within the last ten minutes. +Still there is a reflection upon which they can fall back well +calculated to soothe them--other bright skies ahead. + +Gomez first returning to think of this, says: + +"Never mind, _amigo_. There will be money enough to serve our present +purposes all the same. And for the future we can both build on a good +sure foundation." + +"On what?" + +"On our `Castles in Spain!'" + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR. + +COLDLY RECEIVED. + +The _mal de mer_ is no respecter of persons. Voyagers of every age, and +either sex, must pay toll to it; the which it indiscriminately, if not +equally, exacts from the strong robust youth, and the frail delicate +maiden. Even beauty must submit to this merciless malady; at whose +touch red lips turn pale, and rose-tinted cheeks show wan and wasted. +Afflicting, on first acquaintance with it, it is always more or less +disagreeable, and ever ready at offering its hand to those who go down +to the sea in ships--that hand whose very touch is palsy. + +The voyage Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez are now making is not their +first. Both have been at sea before--in the passage out from Spain. +But this does not exempt them from the terrible infliction, and both +suffer from it. + +Stricken down by it, they are for several days confined to the cabin; +most of the time to their state-room; and, as ill-luck would have it, +without any one of their own sex to wait upon them--a want due to +circumstances partially accidental, but wholly unexpected. The Chilian +skipper, not accustomed to have a stewardess on his ship, had never +thought of such a thing; his whole attention being taken up in +collecting that crew, so difficult to obtain; while their own +waiting-maid, who was to have accompanied the young ladies on their +voyage, failed them at the eleventh hour; having preferred undertaking a +journey of a different kind--not to Spain, but the altar of Hymen. At +the last moment of embarkation, she was missing; her Californian +_amante_ having persuaded her to remain behind. + +Withal, the lady voyagers have not been so badly attended. The old +negro cook--acting also as steward, comes up to the occasion; for he has +a tender heart under his rough sable skin, and waits upon them with +delicate assiduity. + +And Captain Lantanas is equally assiduous in his attentions, placing +most of his time at their disposal, with whatever else he can think of +likely to alleviate their suffering. + +In due course they recover; Carmen first, from being of more robust +habit and stronger constitution. But both are at length able to show +themselves out of their state-room, and after a day or two waiting for +fine weather, they venture upon deck. + +During this sojourn below, they have had no communication with any one, +save Don Gregorio--who has been like themselves, invalided--and of +course the captain and cook. But not any of the officers, or sailors, +of the ship. Indeed, on these they have never set eyes, excepting on +that day when they sailed out through the Golden Gate. But, then, their +thoughts were otherwise occupied--too much engrossed with certain +personages absent, to care for any that were present; least of all the +sailors of the ship--these scarce getting a glance from them. + +Still there is one they have a strong desire to see, and also speak +with. Not a common sailor, but the _piloto_, or first officer, of the +vessel--for they are aware the English seaman has been promoted to this +responsible post. + +During their forced confinement in the state-room, they have often held +discourse about him; this connected with a subject that gives them the +greatest concern, and no little pain. There is still rankling in their +breasts that matter unexplained; no letters left by their lovers at +their abrupt departure, save the one for Don Gregorio, with salutation +to themselves, so coldly, ceremoniously formal. It is to inquire about +that, they are so anxious for an interview with Harry Blew, hoping, +almost believing him to have been entrusted with some verbal message he +has not yet delivered. + +From the terms in which Crozier spoke of him while giving account of how +he had saved his life, it is natural to suppose, that between preserved +and preserver there should be confidence of a very intimate kind. +Therefore Carmen still more than half believes the sailor has a word for +herself--kept back for the want of opportunity. She recalls certain +things he said jocularly, on the day he brought Crozier's letter to the +house, and while she was herself showing him hospitality. These went so +far as to show, that the ex-man-o'-war's man was not altogether ignorant +of the relations existing between her and his old officer. And now she +longs to renew conversation with him, hoping to hear more of those same +pleasant words--perhaps get explanation of the others not so pleasant-- +in the letter. Inez is affected with a like longing, for she too feels +the slight they conveyed--if not so much as her aunt, still enough to +wish for their true interpretation. + +Both thus basing their hopes on Harry Blew, they have been for some time +on the lookout for him, though as yet unsuccessfully. Several times +have they ascended to the deck; but without seeing him, or only afar +off, and, to all appearance, busily engaged with his duties about the +ship. + +Of course they do not expect him to come to them; and, with the secret +purpose they have conceived, dislike summoning him; while he on his part +appears to keep aloof, or, at all events, does not draw near--perhaps +not desiring to be deemed intrusive. For, although first officer of the +vessel, he is still only a rough sailor, and may think himself ill +qualified for the company of ladies. + +Whatever the reason, they have been several times above, without finding +an opportunity to speak with him; and for this they wait with irksome +impatience. + +At length, however, it seems to have arrived. They have come out on the +quarter, in front of the round-house door, and are seated on chairs +which the considerate skipper brought up for them. He is himself by +their side, endeavouring to entertain them by pointing out the various +objects on his vessel, and explaining their uses. + +They give but little heed to the technical dissertations of the +well-meaning man, and only a passing glance at the objects indicated. +Even the two gigantic apes, that go gambolling about the decks-- +exhibiting uncouth gestures, and uttering hoarse cries--fail to fix +their attention; though Captain Lantanas tells them many curious tales +of these creatures--_myas_ monkeys, he calls them, which he has brought +with him from Borneo. Too simple-minded to observe the inattention of +his listeners, he is proceeding still farther to illustrate the habits +of the orangs, when his lecture on natural history is interrupted, by +the necessity for his taking an observation of the sun. It is a few +minutes before mid-day, and he must needs determine his latitude. So +making apology to the ladies, he hurries down to the cabin to get his +quadrant. + +His leaving them is a relief, for they see the first mate moving about, +and have hopes of being able to accost, and enter into conversation with +him. True, he seems busy as ever; but it is nigh the hour when the men +of the forecastle go down to their dinners, and then they may have the +opportunity while he is disengaged. + +For some time they sit watching, and waiting. He is in the waist with +several of the sailors around him, occupied about one of the boats, +there slung upon its davits. + +While regarding him and his movements, the ladies cannot avoid also +observing those of the men, nor help being struck by them. Not so much +their movements, as their appearance, and the expression seen on some of +their countenances. On no one of them is it pleasant, but on the +contrary scowling and savage. Never before have they seen so many faces +wearing such disagreeable looks, that is, gathered in one group--and +they have passed through the streets of San Francisco, where the worst +types may be met. Many of them--indeed nearly all--are not only +unprepossessing, but positively forbidding; and the young girls, not +desiring to encounter certain glances, sent towards them, with an +impudent effrontery, turn their eyes away. + +Just then, Harry Blew, separating from the sailors, is seen coming aft. +It is in obedience to a message which the black cook has brought up out +of the cabin--an order from Captain Lantanas for his first officer to +meet him on the quarterdeck, and assist in "taking the sun." + +But the captain has not yet come up; and, on reaching the quarter, the +ex-man-o'-war's man, for the first time since he shipped on the Chilian +craft, finds himself alone in the presence of the ladies. + +They salute him with an _empressement_, which, to their surprise, is but +coldly returned! Only a slight bow; after which he appears to busy +himself with the log-slate lying on the capstan-head. + +One closely scrutinising him, however, would see that this is pretence; +for his eyes are not on the slate, but furtively turned towards the +ship's waist, watching the men, from whom he has just separated, and who +seem to have their eyes upon _him_. + +The young ladies thus repulsed--and almost rudely, as they take it--make +no farther attempt to bring on a conversation; but, forsaking their +chairs, hasten down the companion-stairs, and on to their own +state-room--there to talk over a disappointment that has given chagrin +to both, but which neither can satisfactorily explain. + +The more they reflect on the conduct of the English sailor, the stranger +it seems to them; and the greater is their vexation. For now they feel +almost sure that something must have happened; that same thing--whatever +it be--which dictated those cruel parting compliments. They seem doubly +so now; for now they have evidence that such must have been the +sentiment--almost proof of it in the behaviour of Harry Blew. + +They are hurt by it--stung to the quick--and never again during that +voyage do they attempt entering into conversation with the first officer +of the _Condor_, nor with any one belonging to her--save her kindly +captain, and the cook, equally kind to them, though in a different way. + +Indeed, they no longer care to go on deck; only on rare occasions +showing themselves there, as if they disliked looking upon him who has +so rudely reminded them of the treason of their lovers. + +Can it be treason? And if so, why? They ask these questions with eyes +bent upon their fingers--on rings encircling them--placed there by those +they are suspecting of disloyalty! The insignia should be proof of the +contrary. But it is not, for love is above all things suspicious-- +however doting, ever doubting. Even on this evidence of its truth they +no longer lean, and scarce console themselves with the hope, which that +has hitherto been sustaining them. Now farther off than ever seems the +realisation of that sweet expectancy hoped for and held out at last +parting, promised in the phrase: "_Hasta Cadiz_!" + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE. + +"DOWN HELM." + +"Land, ho!" + +The cry is from a man stationed on the fore-topmast cross-trees of the +_Condor_. Since sunrise he has been aloft--on the lookout for land. It +is now near noon, and he has sighted it. + +Captain Lantanas is not quite certain of what land it is. He knows it +is the Veraguan coast, but does not recognise the particular place. + +Noon soon after coming on, with an unclouded sky, enables him to catch +the sun in its meridian altitude, and so make him sure of a good sight. +It gives for latitude 7 degrees 20 minutes North, while his chronometer +furnishes him with the longitude 82 degrees 12 minutes West. + +As the Chilian is a skilled observer, and has confidence in the +observations he has made, the land in sight should be the island of +Coiba; or an island that covers it, called Hicaron. Both are off the +coast of Veragua, westward from Panama Bay, and about a hundred miles +from its mouth; into which the _Condor_ is seeking to make entrance. + +Having ciphered out his reckoning, the skipper enters it on his log: + +"Latitude 7 degrees 20 minutes North, Longitude 82 degrees 12 minutes +West _Wind West-South-West. Light breeze_." + +While penning these slight memoranda, little dreams the Chilian skipper +how important they may one day become. The night before, while taking +an observation of the stars, could he have read them astrologically, he +might have discovered many a chance against his ever making another +entry in that log-book. + +A wind west-sou'-west is favourable for entering the Bay of Panama. A +ship steering round Cabo Mala, once she has weathered this much-dreaded +headland, will have it on her starboard quarter. But the _Condor_, +coming down from north, gets it nearly abeam; and her captain, +perceiving he has run a little too much coastwise, cries out to the man +at the wheel-- + +"Hard a-starboard! Put the helm down! Keep well off the land!" + +Saying this, he lights a cigarrito; for a minute or two amuses himself +with his monkeys, always playful at meeting him; then, ascending to the +poop-deck, enters into conversation with company more refined--his lady +passengers. + +These, with Don Gregorio, have gone up some time before, and stand on +the port-side, gazing at the land--of course delightedly: since it is +the first they have seen since the setting of that sun, whose last rays +gleamed upon the portals of the Golden Gate, through which they had +passed out of California. + +The voyage has been somewhat wearisome: the _Condor_ having encountered +several adverse gales--to say nothing of the long period spent in +traversing more than three thousand miles of ocean-waste, with only once +or twice a white sail seen afar off, to vary its blue monotony. + +The sight of _terra firma_, with the thought of soon setting foot on it, +makes all joyous; and Captain Lantanas adds to their exhilaration by +assuring them, that in less than twenty-four hours he will enter the Bay +of Panama, and in twenty-four after, bring his barque alongside the +wharf of that ancient port, so often pillaged by the _filibusteros_-- +better known as buccaneers. It is scarcely a damper when he adds, "Wind +and weather permitting;" for the sky is of sapphire hue, and the gentle +breeze wafting them smoothly along seems steady, and as if it would +continue in the same quarter, which chances to be the right one. + +After staying an hour or so on deck, indulging in cheerful converse, and +happy anticipations, the tropic sun, grown too sultry for comfort, +drives them down to the cabin, for shade and _siesta_--this last, a +habit of all Spanish-Americans. + +The Chilian skipper is also accustomed to take his afternoon nap; and +this day, in particular, there is no need for his remaining longer on +deck. He has determined his latitude, cast up his dead-reckoning, and +set the _Condor_ on her course. Sailing on a sea without icebergs, or +other dangerous obstructions, he can go to sleep without anxiety on his +mind. + +So, leaving his second mate in charge--the first being off-watch--he +descends to the cabin, and enters his sleeping-room on the starboard +side. + +But before lying down, he summons the cook, and gives orders for a +dinner--to be dressed in the very best style the ship's stores can +furnish; this in celebration of the event of having sighted land. + +Then, stretching himself along a sofa, he is soon slumbering; +profoundly, as one with nothing on his conscience to keep him awake. + +For a time, the barque's decks appear deserted. No one seen, save the +helmsman at the wheel, and the second mate standing by his side. The +sailors not on duty have betaken themselves to the forecastle, and are +lolling in their bunks; while those of the working-watch--with no work +to do--have sought shady quarters, to escape from the sun's heat, now +excessive. + +The breeze has been gradually dying away, and is now so light that the +vessel scarce makes steerage way. The only vigorous movements are those +made by the Bornean apes. To them the great heat, so far from being +disagreeable, is altogether congenial. They chase one another along the +decks, accompanying their grotesque romping by cries equally grotesque-- +a hoarse jabbering, that sounds with weird strangeness throughout the +otherwise silent ship. Except this, everything is profoundly still; no +surging of waves, no rush of wind through the rigging, no booming of it +against the bellied sails; only now and then a flap of one blown back, +and aboard. The breeze has fallen to "light;" and the _Condor_, though +with all canvas spread, and studding-sails out, is scarce making two +knots an hour. This too with the wind well upon her quarter. + +Still, there is nothing strange about the barque making so little way. +What is strange, is the direction in which the breeze is now striking +her. It is upon her starboard quarter, instead of the beam, as it +should be; and as Captain Lantanas left it on going below! + +Yet, since he went below, the wind has not shifted, not by a single +point! + +The barque must have changed her course; and indeed, has done this; the +man at the wheel having put the helm _up_, instead of _down_, causing +her to draw closer to the land, in direct contradiction to the orders of +the captain! + +Is it ignorance on the steersman's part? No, that cannot be. Gil Gomez +has the helm; and being a seaman, should know how to handle it. +Besides, Padilla is standing beside him; and the second mate, whatever +his moral qualities, knows enough for the "conning" of a ship; and +cannot fail to observe that the barque is running too much inshore. + +Why the skipper's orders are not being carried out, is because they who +now guide the _Condor's_ course, do not intend that her keel shall ever +cleave the waters of Panama Bay. + +Why, this is told by the speech passing between them: + +"You know all about the coast in there?" inquires Padilla, pointing to +land looming up on the port-side. + +"Every inch of it; at least, sufficient to make sure of a place where we +can put in. That headland rising on the port-bow is Punta Marietta. We +must stand well under, taking care not to round it before evening. If +we did, and the breeze blow off-shore, which it surely will, we'd have +trouble to make back. With this light wind, we won't make much way +before nightfall. When Lantanas and the rest are down at dinner, we can +put about, and run along till we sight a likely landing place." + +"So far as being looked after by Lantanas," observes the second mate, +"we need have no fear. To-day the cabin-dinner is to be a grand spread. +I overheard his orders to that effect. He intends making things +pleasant for his passengers before parting with them. As a matter of +course, he'll stay all evening below--perhaps get fuddled to boot--which +may spare us some trouble. It looks like luck, doesn't it?" + +"Not much matter about that," rejoins Gomez; "it'll have to end all the +same. Only, as you say, his staying below will make things a little +easier, and save some unpleasantness in the way of blood-spilling. +After dinner, the senoritas are sure to come on deck. They've done so +every night, and I hope they won't make this night an exception. If Don +Gregorio and the skipper keep downstairs, and--" + +The dialogue is interrupted by the striking of bells to summon the +relief-watch on duty. + +Soon as the change is effected, Harry Blew takes charge, Striker +replacing Gomez at the helm. + +Just at this instant, the head of Captain Lantanas shows above the +coaming of the companion stair. + +Gomez seeing him, glides back to the wheel, gives a strong pull at the +spokes, Striker assisting him, so as to bring the barque's head up, and +the wind upon her beam. + +"Good heavens!" exclaims the skipper excitedly, rushing on up the stair, +and out. For he sees what not only excites his surprise, but makes him +exceedingly angry. + +Soon as setting his foot on deck, he steps briskly on to the rail, and +looks out over the sea--shoreward, towards land, where no land should be +seen! + +First he glances ahead, then over the port-side, and again in the +direction of the vessel's course. What sees he there to make such an +impression upon him? A high promontory stretching out into the ocean, +almost butting against the bows of his ship! It is Punta Marietta! He +knows the headland, but knows, too, it should not be on the bow had his +instructions been attended to. + +"_Que cosa_!" he cries in a bewildered way, rubbing his eyes, to make +sure they are not deceiving him; then to the helmsman: + +"What does this mean, sir? You've been keeping too close inshore--the +very contrary to what I commanded! Helm down--hard!" + +Striker grumblingly obeys, bringing the barque up close to wind. Then +the skipper turning angrily upon him, demands to know why his orders +have not been carried out. + +The ex-convict excuses himself, saying, that he has just commenced his +trick, and knows nothing of what has been done before. He is keeping +the vessel too on the same course she was on, when he took her from the +last steersman. + +"Who was the last?" thunders the irate skipper. + +"Gil Gomez," gruffly replies Striker. + +"Yes; it was he," says the first mate, who has come aft along with the +captain. "The watch was Senor Padilla's, and Gomez has just left the +wheel." + +"Where is Gomez?" asks the captain, still in a towering passion, unusual +for him. + +"Gone forward, sir: he's down in the forecastle." + +"Call him up! Send him to me at once!" + +The first officer hurries away towards the head, and soon returns, Gomez +with him. + +The latter meets the gaze of Lantanas with a sullen look, which seems to +threaten disobedience. + +"How is this?" asks the Chilian. "You had the wheel during the last +watch. Where have you been running to?" + +"In the course you commanded, Captain Lantanas." + +"That can't be, sir. If you'd kept her on as I set her, the land +couldn't have been there, lying almost across, our cut-water. I +understand my chart too well to have made such a mistake." + +"I don't know anything about your chart," sulkily rejoins the sailor. +"All I know is, that I kept the barque's head as directed. If she +hasn't answered to it, that's no fault of mine; and I don't much like +being told it is." + +The puzzled skipper again rubs his eyes, and takes a fresh look at the +coast-line. He is as much mystified as ever. Still the mistake may +have been his own; and as the relieved steersman appears confident about +it, he dismisses him without further parley, or reprimand. + +Seeing that there will be no difficulty in yet clearing the point, his +anger cools down, and he is but too glad to withdraw from an angry +discussion uncongenial to his nature. + +The _Condor_ now hauled close to wind, soon regains lost weather-way, +sufficient for the doubling of Punta Marietta; and before the bells of +the second dog-watch are sounded, she is in a fair way of weathering the +cape. The difficulty has been more easily removed by the wind veering +suddenly round to the opposite point of the compass. For now near +night, the land-breeze has commenced blowing off-shore. + +Well acquainted with the coast, and noticing the change, Captain +Lantanas believes all danger past; and with the tranquillity of his +temper restored, goes back into his cabin, to join his passengers at +dinner, just in the act of being served. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY SIX. + +PANAMA OR SANTIAGO? + +It is the hour of setting the first night-watch, and the bells have been +struck; not to summon any sailor from the forecastle, but intended only +for the cabin and the ears of Captain Lantanas--lest the absence of the +usual sound should awaken his suspicion, that all was not going right. + +This night neither watch will be below, but all hands on deck, mates as +foremast-men; and engaged in something besides the navigation of the +vessel--in short, in destroying her! And, soon as the first shades of +night descend over her, the crew is seen assembling by the manger-board +close to the night-heads--all save the man who has charge of the +steering, on this occasion Slush. + +The muster by the manger-board is to take measures for carrying out +their scheme of piracy and plunder, now on the eve of execution. The +general plan is already understood by all; it but remains to settle some +final details. + +Considering the atrocity of their design, it is painful to see the first +mate in their midst. A British sailor--to say nought of an old +man-of-war's man--better might have been expected of him. But he _is_ +there; and not only taking part with them, but apparently acting as +their leader. + +His speech too clearly proclaims him chief of the conspiring crew. His +actions also, as they have ever been, since the day when he signified to +Striker his intention to join them. After entering into the conspiracy, +he has shown an assiduity to carry it out worthy of a better cause. + +His first act was backing up Striker's call for an equal division of the +bounty. Holding the position of chief officer, this at once established +his influence over the others; since increased by the zeal he has +displayed--so that he now holds first place among the pirates, nearly +all of them acknowledging, and submitting to, his authority. + +If Edward Crozier could but see him now, and hear what he is saying, he +would never more have faith in human being. Thinking of Carmen Montijo, +the young officer has doubted women; witnessing the behaviour of Henry +Blew, he might not only doubt man, but curse him. + +Well for the recreant sailor, Crozier is not present in that conclave by +the night-heads of the _Condor_. If he were, there would be speedy +death to one he could not do otherwise than deem a traitor. + +But the young officer is far away--a thousand miles of trackless ocean +_now_ between _Condor_ and _Crusader_--little dreaming of the danger +that threatens her to whom he has given heart, and promised hand; while +Harry Blew is standing in the midst of ruffians plotting her ruin! + +O man! O British sailor! where is your gratitude? What has become of +your honour--your oath? The first gone; the second disregarded; the +last broken! + +Soon as together, the pirates enter upon discussion, the first question +before them being about the place where they shall land. + +Upon this point there is difference of opinion. Some are for going +ashore at once, on a convenient part of the coast in sight; while others +counsel running on till they enter Panama Bay. + +At the head of those in favour of the latter is the chief mate, who +gives his reasons thus: + +"By runnin' up into the Bay o' Panyma, we'll get closer to the town; an' +it'll be easier to reach it after we've done the business we intend +doin', Panyma bein' a seaport, an' plenty o' vessels sailin' from it. +After gettin' there we'd be able to go every man his own way. Them as +wants can cross over the Isthmus, an' cut off on t'other side. An' +Panyma bein' full o' strangers goin' to Californey, an' returnin' from +it, we'd be less like to get noticed there. Whiles if we land on the +coast here, where thar an't no good-sized town, but only some bits o' +fishin' villages, we'd be a marked lot--sartin to run a good chance o' +bein' took up, an' put into one o' thar prisons. Just possible too, we +might land on some part inhabited by wild Indyins, an' lose not only the +shinin' stuff, but our scalps. I've heerd say thar's the worst sort o' +savages livin' on the coast 'long here. An' supposin' we meet neither +Indyins nor whites, goin' ashore in a wilderness covered wi' woods, we +might have trouble in makin' our way out o' them. Them thick forests o' +the tropics an't so easy to travel through. I've know'd o' sailors as +got cast away, perishin' in 'em afore they could reach any settlement. +My advice, tharfore, shipmates, be, for us to take the barque on into +the Bay; an' when we've got near enough the port, to make sure o' our +bein' able to reach it, then put in for the shore. Panyma Bay's big +enough to give us plenty choice o' places for our purpose." + +"We've heard you out, Mr Blew," rejoins Gomez, "Now, let me say in +answer, you haven't given a single reason for going by Panama Bay, that +won't stand good for doing the very opposite. But there's one worth +all, you haven't mentioned, and it's against you. While running up into +the Bay, we'd be sure to meet other vessels coming out of it--scores of +them. And supposing one should be a man-of-war--a British or American +cruiser, say--and she takes it into her head to overhaul us; where would +we be then?" + +"An' if they did," returns Blew, "what need for us to be afeerd? Seein' +that the barque's papers are all shipshape, they'd have to leave us as +they found us. Let 'em overhaul, an' be blowed!" + +"They mightn't leave us as they found us, for all that," argues Gomez. +"Just when they took it into their heads to board the barque, might be +when we would be slipping out of her. How then? Besides, other ships +would have the chance of spying us at that critical moment. As I've +said, your other arguments are wrong; I'll answer them in detail. But +first, let me tell you all, I've got a pretty accurate knowledge of this +coast. I ought to have, considering that I spent several years on and +off it in a business which goes by the name of _contraband_. Now, all +round the shores of Panama Bay there's just the sort of wild +forest-covered country Mr Blew talks about getting strayed in. We +might land within twenty miles of that port, and yet not be able to +reach it, without great difficulty. Danger, too, from the savages, our +first officer seems so much afraid of. Whereas, by putting ashore +anywhere along here, we won't be far from the old Nicaraguan road, that +runs all through the Isthmus. It will take us to the town of Panama; +any that wish to go there. But there's another town as big as it, and +better for our purpose; one wherein we'll be less likely to meet the +unpleasant experience Mr Blew speaks of. It isn't much of a place for +prisons. I'm speaking of Santiago, the capital city of Veragua; which +isn't over a good day's journey from the coast. And we can reach it by +an easy road. Still that's not the question of greatest importance. +What most concerns us is the safety of the place _when we get to it_-- +and I can answer for Santiago. Unless customs have changed since I used +to trifle away some time there--and people too--we'll find some who'll +show us hospitality. With the money at our disposal--ay, a tenth part +of it--I could buy up the _alcalde_ of the town, and every judge in the +province." + +"That's the sort of town for us--and country too!" exclaim several +voices. "Let's steer for Santiago!" + +"We'll first have to put about," explains Gomez, "and run along the +coast, till we find a proper place for landing." + +"Yes," rejoins Harry Blew, speaking satirically, and as if exasperated +by the majority going against him. "An' if we put about just now, we'll +stand a good chance of goin' slap on them rocks on the port beam. +Thar's a line o' breakers all along shore, far's I can see. How's a +boat to be got through them? She'd be bilged to a sartinty." + +"There are breakers, as you say," admits Gomez; "but their line doesn't +run continuous, as it appears to do. I remember several openings where +a boat, or ship for that matter, may be safely got through. We must +look out for one of them." + +"_Vaya, camarados_!" puts in Padilla, with a gesture of impatience. +"We're wasting time, which just now is valuable. Let's have the barque +about, and stand along the coast, as Gil Gomez proposes. I second his +proposal; but, if you like, let it go to a vote." + +"No need; we all agree to it." + +"Ay; all of us." + +"Well, shipmates," says Harry Blew, seeing himself obliged to give way, +and conceding the point with apparent reluctance; "if ye're all in +favour o' steerin' up coast, I an't goin' to stand out against it. It +be the same to me one way or t'other. Only I thought, an' still think, +we'd do better by runnin' up toward Panyma." + +"No, no; Santiago's the place for us. We've decided to go there." + +"Then to Santiago let's go. An' if the barque's to be put about, I tell +ye there's no time to be lost. Otherways, we'll go into them whitecaps, +sure; the which would send this craft to Davy Jones sooner than we +intend. If we're smart about it, I dar say we can manage to scrape +clear o' them; the more likely, as the wind's shifted, an' is now +off-shore. It'll be a close shave, for all that." + +"Plenty of sea-room," says the second mate. "But let's about with her +at once!" + +"You see to it, Padilla!" directs Gomez, who, from his success in having +his plan adopted in opposition to that of the Englishman, feels his +influence increased so much, he may now take command. + +The second mate starts aft, and going up to the helmsman, whispers a +word in his ear. + +Instantly the helm is put hard up, and the barque paying off, wears +round from east to west-nor'-west. The sailors at the same time brace +about her yards, and trim her sails for the changed course; executing +the manoeuvre, not, as is usual, with a chorused chant, but silently, as +if the ship were a spectre, and her crew but spectral shadows. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN. + +A CHEERFUL CUDDY. + +The _Condor's_ cabin is a snug little saloon, such as are often found on +trading-vessels, not necessarily for passengers, but where the skipper +has an eye to his own comforts, with tastes that require gratification. + +Those of Captain Lantanas are refined, beyond the common run of men who +follow his profession--usually rough sea dogs--caring little for aught +else save their grub and grog. + +That the Chilian skipper is not of this class is proved by the +appearance of his "cuddy," which is neatly, if not luxuriously, +furnished, and prettily decorated. In addition to the instruments that +appertain to his calling--telescope, aneroid barometer, sextant, and +compass, all placed conspicuously in racks--there is a bookcase of +ornamental wood, filled with well-bound volumes; and several squares of +looking-glass inlaid between the doors that lead to the four little +staterooms--two on each side. There are two settees, with hair-cloth +cushions, and lockers underneath the same, in which Don Gregorio's +gold-dust is stowed. + +Centrally stands a table, eight by six, mahogany, with massive carved +legs, and feet firmly fixed to the floor. It is set lengthwise, fore +and aft, a stout hair-cloth chair at top, another at bottom, and one at +each side--all, like the table, stanchioned to the timbers of the +half-deck. + +Above a rack, with its array of decanters and glasses; and in the +centre, overhead, a swing-lamp, lacquered brass--so constructed as to +throw a brilliant glare on the surface of the table, while giving light +more subdued to all other parts of the little cabin. + +To-night its rays are reflected with more than ordinary sparkle. For +the table beneath is spread with the best plate and glassware Captain +Lantanas can set forth. And in the dishes now on it are the most +savoury viands the _Condor's_ cook can produce. While in bottles and +decanters are wines of best _bouquet_ and choicest vintage. + +Around are seated the four guests; the Captain, as host, at the head; +Don Gregorio, his _vis-a-vis_, at the foot; the ladies at opposite +sides--right and left. + +As the barque is going before a gentle breeze, without the slightest +roll, or pitch, there is no need for guards upon the table. It shows +only the spread of snow-white damask, the shining silver plate, the +steel of Sheffield, the ware of Sevres or Worcester, with the usual +array of cut-glasses and decanters. In the centre an epergne, +containing fruits, and some flowers, which, despite exposure to the +saline breeze, Captain Lantanas has nursed into blooming. But the +fruits seem flowers of themselves, having come from California, famed +for the products of Pomona. There are peaches, the native growth of San +Franciscan gardens, with plums and nectarines; melons and grapes from +Los Angelos, further south; with the oranges, plantains, and pine-apples +of San Diego. And, alongside these productions of the tropical and +sub-tropical clime, are Newtown pippins, that have been imported into +California from the far Eastern States, mellowed by a sea voyage of +several thousand miles, around the stormy headland of Cape Horn. + +The savoury meats tasted, eaten, and removed, the dessert, with its +adjuncts, has been brought upon the table--this including wines of +varied sorts. Although not greatly given to drink, the Chilian skipper +enjoys his glass; and on this occasion takes half-a-dozen--it may be +more. He is desirous of doing honour to his distinguished guests, and +making the entertainment a merry one. + +And his amiable effort has success. + +In addition to having seen much of the world, he is by birth and +education a gentleman. Although nothing more than the skipper of a +merchant-ship--a South Sea trader at that--as already known, he is not +one of the rude swaggering sort; but a gentle, kind-hearted creature, as +well, if not better, befitted for the boudoir of a lady, than to stir +about among tarred ropes, or face conflicting storm. + +So kind and good has he shown himself, that his two fair passengers, in +the short companionship of less than a month, have grown to regard him +with affection; while Don Gregorio looks upon him in the light of a +faithful friend. All three feel sorry they are so soon to part company +with him. It is the only regret that casts a shadow over their spirits, +as they sit conversing around the table so richly furnished for their +gratification. + +Eating fragrant fruits, and sipping sweet wines, for the moment they +forget all about the hour of parting; the easier, as they listen to the +tales which he tells to entertain them. He relates strange adventures +he has had, on and around the shores of the great South Sea. + +He has had encounters with the fierce Figian; the savage New Caledonian; +both addicted to the horrid habit of anthropophagy. He has been a +spectator to the voluptuous dances of Samoa, and looked upon the +daughters of Otaheite, Owyhee, whose whole life is love. + +With stories of the two extremes--symbols of man's supreme happiness, +and his most abject misery--grim cannibals and gay odalisques--he amuses +his guests, long detaining them at the table. + +Enthralled by his narration--naive, truthful, in correspondence with the +character of the man--all three listen attentively. The senoritas are +charmed, and, strange to say, more with his accounts of Figi and New +Caledonia, than those relating to Otaheite and Hawaii. For to the +last-named group of islands have gone Edward Crozier and Willie +Cadwallader. There these may meet some of the brown-skinned _bayaderes_ +Captain Lantanas so enthusiastically describes--meet, dance with, and +admire them! + +But the jealous fancies thus conjured up are fleeting in the shadows of +summer clouds; and, soon passing, give place to pleasanter thoughts. +Now that land is near, and a seaport soon to be reached, the young +ladies are this night unusually elated; and, listening to the vivid +description of South Sea scenes, they reflect less sadly and less +bitterly on the supposed slight received at the hands of their lovers. + +In return, Don Gregorio imparts to the Chilian skipper some confidences +hitherto withheld. He is even so far admitted into the family intimacy +as to be told how both the senoritas are soon to become brides. To +which is added an invitation, that should he ever carry the _Condor_ to +Cadiz, he will not only visit them, but make their house his home. + +Several hours are passed in this pleasant way; interspersed with song +and music--for both Carmen and Inez can sing well, and accompany their +singing with the guitar. + +At length the ladies retire to their state-room, not to stay, but to +robe themselves, with the design of taking a turn in the open air. The +smooth motion of the ship, with the soft moonlight streaming through the +cabin windows, tempts them to spend half-an-hour on deck, before going +to rest for the night; and on deck go they. + +Lantanas and the ex-haciendado remain seated at the table. Warmed by +the wine--of which both have partaken pretty freely--the Chilian +continues to pour his experiences into the ears of his passenger; while +the latter listens with unflagging interest. + +Supping choice _canario_, his favourite tipple, the former takes no note +of aught passing around, nor thinks of what may be doing on the +_Condor's_ deck. All through the evening he has either forgotten or +neglected the duties appertaining to him as her commanding officer. So +much, that he fails to notice a rotatory motion of the cabin, with the +table on which the decanters stand; or, if observing, attributes it to +the wine having disturbed the equilibrium of his brain. + +But the cabin _does_ revolve, the table with it, to the extent of a +three-quarter circle. Gradually is the movement being made--gently, +from the sea being calm--silently--with no voice raised in command--no +piping of boatswain's whistle--no song of sailors as they brace round +the yards, or board tacks and sheets!--not a sign to tell Captain +Lantanas has been set upon a course, astray, and likely to lead to her +destruction. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT. + +KILL OR DROWN? + +Having set the _Condor's_ course, with Slush still in charge at the +helm, the second mate returns to the fore-deck, where by the +manger-board the others are again in deliberation; Gomez counselling, or +rather dictating what they are next to do. + +The programme he places before them is in part what has been arranged +already--to run along coast till they discover a gap in the line of +coral reef; for it is this which causes the breakers. Further, they are +told that, when such gap be found, they will lower a boat; and having +first scuttled the barque, abandon her; then row themselves ashore. + +The night is so far favourable to the execution of the scheme. It is a +clear moonlight; and running parallel to the trend of the shore, as they +are now doing, they can see the breakers distinctly, their white crests +in contrast with the dark _facade_ of cliff, which extends continuously +along the horizon's edge; here and there rising into hills, one of which +looming up on the starboard bow has the dimensions of a mountain. + +The barque is now about a league's distance from land; and half-way +between are the breakers, their roar sounding ominously through the calm +quiet of the night. As they were making but little way--scarce three +knots an hour--one proposes that the boat be lowered at once, and such +traps as they intend taking put into her. In such a tranquil sea it +will tow alongside in safety. + +As this will be some trouble taken off their hands in advance, the plan +is approved of, and the pinnace being selected, as the most suitable +boat for beaching. + +Clustering around it, they commence operations. Two leap lightly +inside; insert the plug, ship the rudder, secure the oars and +boat-hooks, clear the life-lines, and cast off the lanyards of the +gripes; the others holding the fall-tackle in hand, to see that they +were clear for running. Then taking a proper turn they lower away. + +And, soon as the boat's bottom touches water, with the two men in it, +the painter, whose loose end has been left aboard, is hauled fast, +bringing the boat abeam, where it is made fast under a set of man-ropes, +already dropped over the side. + +Other movements succeed; the pirates passing to and from the forecastle, +carrying canvas bags, and bundles of clothing, with such other of their +belongings as they deem necessary for a debarkation like that intended. +A barrel of pork, another of biscuit, and a beaker of water are turned +out, and handed down into the boat; not forgetting a keg containing rum, +and several bottles of wine they have purloined, or rather taken at +will, from Captain Lantanas' locker bins. + +The miscellaneous supply is not meant for a voyage, only a stock to +serve for that night, which they must needs spend upon the beach--as +also to provision them for the land journey, to be commenced in the +morning. + +In silence, but with no great show of caution or stealth, are these +movements made. They who make them have but little fear of being +detected, some scarce caring if they be. Indeed, there is no one to +observe them, save those taking part. For the negro cook, after +dressing the dinner, and serving it, has gone out of the galley for +good; and, now acting as table waiter, keeps below in the cabin. + +Soon everything is stowed in the pinnace, except that which is to form +its most precious freight; and again the piratical crew bring their +heads together, to deliberate about the final step; the time for taking +which is fast drawing nigh. + +A thing so serious calls for calm consideration, or, at all events, +there must be a thorough understanding among them. For it is the +disposal of those they have destined as victims. How this is to be +done, nothing definite has yet been said. Even the most hardened among +them shrinks from putting it in words. Still it is tacitly understood. +The ladies are to be taken along, the others to be dealt with in a +different way. But how? that is the question, yet unasked by any, but +as well understood by all, as if it had been spoken in loudest voice. + +For a time they stand silent, waiting for some one who can command the +courage to speak. + +And one does this--a ruffian of unmitigated type, whose breast is not +stirred by the slightest throb of humanity. It is the second mate, +Padilla. Breaking silence, he says: + +"Let us cut their throats, and have done with it!" + +The horrible proposition, more so from its very laconism, despite the +auditory to whom it is addressed, does not find favourable response. +Several speak in opposition to it; Harry Blew first and loudest. Though +broken his word, and forfeited his faith, the British sailor is not so +abandoned as to contemplate murder in such cool, deliberate manner. +Some of those around him have no doubt committed it; but he does not +feel up to it. Opposing Padilla's counsel, he says: + +"What need for our killin' them? For my part, I don't see any." + +"And for your part, what would you do?" sneeringly retorts the second +mate. + +"Give the poor devils a chance for their lives." + +"How?" promptly asks Padilla. + +"Why; if we set the barque's head out to sea, as the wind's off-shore, +she'd soon carry them beyond sight o' land, and we'd niver hear another +word o' 'em." + +"No, no! that won't do," protest several in the same breath. "They +might get picked up, and then we'd be sure of hearing of them--may be +something more than words." + +"_Carrai_!" exclaims Padilla scornfully; "that _would_ be a wise way. +Just the one to get our throats in the _garrota_. You forget that Don +Gregorio Montijo is a man of the big grandee kind. And should he ever +set foot ashore, after what we'd done to him, he'd have influence enough +to make most places--ay, the whole of the habitable globe--a trifle too +hot for us. There's an old saw, about dead men telling no tales. No +doubt most of you have heard it, and some have reason to know it true. +Take my advice, _camarados_, and let us act up to it. What's your +opinion, Senor Gomez?" + +"Since you ask for it," responds Gomez, speaking for the first time on +this special matter, "my opinion is, that there's no need for any +difference among us. Mr Blew's against the spilling of blood, and so +would I, if it could be avoided. But it can't, with safety to +ourselves; at least not in the way he has suggested. To act as he +advises would be madness on our part--nay more, it might be suicide. +Still, there don't seem any necessity for a cold cutting of throats, +which has an ugly sound about it. The same with knocking on the head; +they're both too brutal. I think I know a way that will save us from +resorting to either, and, at the same time, ensure our own safety." + +"What way?" demanded several voices. "Tell us!" + +"One simple enough; so simple, I wonder you haven't all thought of it, +same as myself. Of course, we intend sending this craft to the bottom +of the sea. But she's not likely to go down all of a sudden; nor till +we're a good way off out of sight. We can leave the gentlemen aboard, +and let them slip quietly down along with her!" + +"Why, that's just what Blew proposes," say several. + +"True," returns Gomez; "but not exactly as I mean it. He'd leave them +free to go about the ship--perhaps get out of her before she sinks, on a +sofa, or hencoop, or something." + +"How would _you_ do with them?" asks one, impatiently. + +"Tie, before taking leave of them." + +"Bah!" exclaims Padilla, a monster to whom spilling blood seems +congenial. "What's the use of being at all that bother? It's sure to +bring some. The skipper will resist, and so'll the old Don. What then? +We'll be compelled to knock them on the head all the same, or toss them +overboard. For my part, I don't see the object of making such a worry +about it; and still say, let's stop their wind at once!" + +"Dash it, man!" cries Striker, hitherto only a listener, but a backer of +Harry Blew; "you 'pear to 'a been practisin' a queery plan in jobs o' +this sort. Mr Gomez hev got a better way o't, same as I've myself seed +in the Australian bush, wheres they an't so bloodthirsty. When they +stick up a chap theer, so long's he don't cut up nasty, they settle +things by splicin' him to a tree, an' leavin' him to his meditashuns. +Why can't we do the same wi' the skipper, an' the Don, an' the darkey-- +supposin' any o' 'em to show reefractry?" + +"That's it!" exclaims Davis, strengthening the proposal thus endorsed by +his chum, Striker. "My old pal's got the correct idea of sich things." + +"Besides," continues the older of the ex-convicts, "this job seems to me +simple enuf. We want the swag, an' some may want the weemen. Well, we +can git both 'ithout the needcessity o' doin' murder!" + +Striker's remonstrance sounds strange--under the circumstances, +serio-comical. + +"What might you call murder?" mockingly asks Padilla. "Is there any +difference between their getting their breath stopped by drowning, or +the cutting of their throats? Not much to them, I take it; and no more +to us. If there's a distinction, it's so nice I can't see it. +_Carramba_! no!" + +"Whether you see it or not," interposes Harry Blew, "there be much; and +for myself, as I've said, I object to spillin' blood, where the thing +an't absolute needcessary. True, by leavin them aboard an' tied, as Mr +Gomez suggests, they'll get drowned, for sartin; but it'll at least keep +our hands clear o' blood murder!" + +"That's true!" cried several in assent. "Let's take the Australian way +of it, and tie them up!" + +The assenting voices are nearly unanimous; and the eccentric compromise +is carried. + +So far everything is fixed, and it but remains to arrange about the +action, and apportion to every one his part. + +For this very few words suffice, the apportionment being, that the first +officer, assisted by Davis, who has some knowledge of ship-carpentry, is +to see to the scuttling of the vessel; Gomez and Hernandez to take +charge of the girls, and get them into the boat; Slush to look after the +steering; Padilla to head the party entrusted with the seizure of the +gold; while Striker, assisted by Tarry and the Frenchman, is to secure +the unfortunate men by fast binding, or, as he calls it, "sticking them +up." + +The atrocious plan is complete, in all its revolting details--the hour +of execution at hand. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTY NINE. + +THE TINTORERAS. + +With all sail set, the barque glides silently on to her doom. + +Gomez now "cons" Slush the steering, he alone having any knowledge of +the coast. They are but a half-league from land, shaving close along +the outer edge of the breakers. The breeze blowing off-shore makes it +easy to keep clear of them. + +There is high land on the starboard bow, gradually drawing to the beam. +Gomez remembers it; for in the clear moonlight is disclosed the outline +of a hill, which, once seen, could not easily be forgotten; a _cerro_ +with two summits, and a _col_ or saddle-like depression between. + +Still, though a conspicuous landmark, it does not indicate any +anchorage; only that they are entering a great gulf which indents the +Veraguan coast. + +As the barque glides on, he observes a reach of clear water opening +inland; to all appearance a bay, its mouth miles in width. + +He would run her into it, but is forbidden by the breakers, whose +froth-crested belt extends across the entrance from cape to cape. + +Running past, he again closes in upon the land, and soon has the +two-headed hill abeam, its singular silhouette conspicuous against the +moonlit sky. All the more from the moon being directly beyond it, and +low down, showing between the twin summits like a great globe-shaped +lamp there suspended. + +When nearly opposite, Gomez notes an open space in the line of breakers, +easily told by its dark tranquil surface, which contrasts with the white +horse-tails lashing up on each side of it. + +Soon as sighting it, the improvised pilot leaves the helm, after giving +Slush some final instructions about the steering. Then forsaking the +poop, he proceeds towards the ship's waist, where he finds all the +others ready for action. Striker and La Crosse with pieces of rope for +making fast the ill-fated men; Padilla and his party armed with axes and +crowbars--the keys with which they intend to open the locker-doors. + +Near the mainmast stands the first mate, a lighted lantern in his hand; +Davis beside him, with auger, mallet, and chisel. They are by the +hatchway, which they have opened, intending descent into the hold. With +the lantern concealed under the skirt of his ample dreadnought, Harry +Blew stands within the shadow of the mast, as if reflecting on his +faithlessness--ashamed to let his face be seen. He even appears +reluctant to proceed in the black business, while affecting the +opposite. + +As the others are now occupied in various ways, with their eyes turned +from him, he steps out to the ship's side, and looks over the rail. The +moon is now full upon his face, which, under her soft innocent beams, +shows an expression difficult as ever to interpret. The most skilled +physiognomist could not read it. More than one emotion seem struggling +within his breast, mingling together, or succeeding each other, quick as +the changing hues of the chameleon. Now, as if cupidity, now remorse, +anon the dark shadow of despair! + +This last growing darker, he draws nearer to the side, and looks +earnestly over, as if about to plunge into the briny deep, and so rid +himself of a life, ever after to be a burden! + +While standing thus, apparently hesitating as to whether he shall drown +himself and have done with it, soft voices fall upon his ear, their +tones blending with the breeze, as it sweeps in melancholy cadence +through the rigging of the ship. Simultaneously there is a rustling of +dresses, and he sees two female forms robed in white, with short cloaks +thrown loosely over their shoulders, and kerchiefs covering their heads. + +Stepping out on the quarterdeck, they stand for a short while, the moon +shining on their faces, both bright and innocent as her beams. Then +they stroll aft, little dreaming of the doom that awaits them. + +That sight should soften his traitorous heart. Instead, it seems but to +steel it the more--as if their presence recalled and quickened within +him some vow of revenge. He hesitates no longer; but gliding back to +the hatch, climbs over its coaming, and, lantern in hand, drops down +into the hold--there to do a deed which neither light of moon nor sun +should shine upon. + +Though within the tropic zone, and but a few degrees from the +equinoctial line, there is chillness in the air of the night, now +nearing its mid-hours. + +Drawing their cloaks closer around them, the young ladies mount up to +the poop-deck, and stand resting their hands on the taffrail. + +For a time they are silent; their eyes directed over the stern, watching +the foam in the ship's wake, lit up with luminous phosphorescence. + +They observe other scintillation besides that caused by the _Condor's_ +keel. There are broad splatches of it all over the surface of the sea, +with here and there elongated _sillons_, seemingly made by some +creatures in motion, swimming parallel to the ship's course, and keeping +pace with her. + +They have not voyaged through thirty degrees of the Pacific Ocean to be +now ignorant of what these are. They know them to be sharks, as also +that some of larger size and brighter luminosity are the tracks of the +_tintorera_--that species so much-dreaded by the pearl-divers of Panama +Bay and the Californian Gulf. + +This night both _tiburones_ and _tintoreras_ are more numerous than they +have ever observed them--closer also to the vessel's side; for the +sharks, observantly have seen a boat lowered down, which gives +anticipation of prey within nearer reach of their ravenous jaws. + +"_Santissima_!" exclaims Carmen, as one makes a dash at some waif +drifting astern. "What a fearful thing it would be to fall overboard +there--in the midst of those horrid creatures! One wouldn't have the +slightest chance of being saved. Only to think how little space there +is between us and certain death! See that monster just below, with its +great, glaring eyes! It looks as if it wanted to leap up, and lay hold +of us. Ugh! I mustn't keep my eyes on it any longer. It makes me +tremble in a strange way. I do believe, if I continued gazing at it, I +should grow giddy, and drop into its jaws." + +She draws back a pace or two, and for some moments remains silent-- +pensive. Perhaps she is thinking of a sailor saved from sharks after +falling among them, and more still of the man who saved him. Whether or +no, she soon again speaks, saying: + +"_Sobrina_! are you not glad we're so near the end of our voyage?" + +"I'm not sorry, _tia_--I fancy no one ever is. I should be more +pleased, however, if it _were_ the end of our voyage, which +unfortunately it isn't. Before we see Spain, we've another equally as +long." + +"True--as long in duration, and distance. But otherwise, it may be very +different, and I hope more endurable. Across the Atlantic we'll have +passage in a big steamship, with a grand dining saloon, and state +sleeping-rooms, each in itself as large as the main-cabin of the +_Condor_. Besides, we'll have plenty of company--passengers like +ourselves. Let us hope they may turn out nice people. If so, our +Atlantic voyage will be more enjoyable than this on the Pacific." + +"But we've been very comfortable in the _Condor_; and _I'm_ sure Captain +Lantanas has done all he could to make things agreeable for us." + +"He has indeed, the dear good creature; and I shall ever feel grateful +to him. Still you must admit that, however well meant, we've been at +times a little bored by his learned dissertations. O Inez, it's been +awfully lonely, and frightfully monotonous--at least, to me." + +"Ah! I understand. What you want is a bevy of bachelors as +fellow-passengers, young ones at that. Well; I suppose there will be +some in the big steamer. Like enough, a half-score of our moustached +_militarios_, returning from Cuba and other colonies. Wouldn't that +make our Atlantic voyage enjoyable?" + +"Not mine--nothing of the sort, as you ought to know. To speak truth, +it was neither the loneliness nor monotony of our Pacific voyage that +has made it so miserable. Something else." + +"I think I can guess the something else." + +"If so, you'll be clever. It's more than I can." + +"Might it have anything to do with that informal leave-taking? Come, +Carmen--you promised me you'd think no more about it till we see them in +Cadiz, and have it all cleared up." + +"You're wrong again, Inez. It is not anything of that." + +"What then? It can't be the _mare amiento_? Of it I might complain. +I'm even suffering from it now--although the water is so smooth. But +you! why, you stand the sea as well as one of those rough sailors +themselves! You're just the woman to be a naval officer's wife; and +when your _novio_ gets command of a ship, I suppose you'll be for +circumnavigating the world with him." + +"You're merry, _mora_." + +"Well, who wouldn't be, with the prospect of soon setting foot on land. +For my part, I detest the sea; and when I marry my little +_guardia-marina_, I'll make him forsake it, and take to some pleasanter +profession. And if he prefer doing nothing, by good luck the rent of my +lands will keep us both comfortably, with something to spare for a town +house in Cadiz. But say, Carmen! What's troubling you? Surely you +must know?" + +"Surely I don't, Inez." + +"That's strange--a mystery. Might it be regret at leaving behind your +_preux chevaliers_ of California--that grand, gallant De Lara, whom, at +our last interview, we saw sprawling in the road dust? You ought to +feel relieved at getting rid of him, as I of my importunate suitor, the +Senor Calderon. By the way, I wonder whatever became of them! Only to +think of their never coming near us to say good-bye! And that nothing +was seen or heard of them afterwards! Something must have happened. +What could it have been! I've tried to think, but without succeeding." + +"So I the same. It is indeed very strange; though I fancy father heard +something about them, which he does not wish to make known to us. You +remember what happened after we'd left the house--those men coming to it +in the night. Father has an idea they intended taking his gold, +believing it still there. What's more, I think he half suspects that of +the four men--for there appears to have been four of them--two were no +other than our old suitors, Francisco de Lara and Faustino Calderon." + +She had almost said _sweethearts_, but the word has a suggestion of +pain. + +"_Maria de Merced_!" exclaims Inez. "It's frightful to think of such a +thing. We ought to be thankful to that good saint for saving us from +such villains, and glad to get away from a country where their like are +allowed to live." + +"_Sobrina_, you've touched the point. The very thought that's been +distressing me is the remembrance of those men. Even since leaving San +Francisco, as before we left, I've had a strange heaviness on my heart-- +a sort of boding fear--that we haven't yet seen the last of them. It +haunts me like a spectre. I can't tell why, unless it be from what I +know of De Lara. He's not the man to submit to that ignominious defeat +of which we were witnesses. Be assured he will seek to avenge it. We +expected a duel, and feared it. Likely there would have been one, but +for the sailing of the English ship. Still that won't hinder such a +desperate man as De Lara from going after Edward, and trying to kill him +any way he can. I have a fear he'll follow him--is after him now." + +"What if he be? Your _fiance_ can take care of himself. And so can +mine, if Calderon should get into his silly head to go after _him_. Let +them go, so long as they don't come after us; which they're not likely-- +all the way to Spain." + +"I'm not so sure of that. Such as they may make their way anywhere. +Professional gamblers--as we know them to be--travel to all parts of the +world. All cities give them the same opportunity to pursue their +calling--why not Cadiz? But, Inez, there's something I haven't told +you, thinking you might make mock of it. I've had a fright more than +once--several times, since we came aboard." + +"A fright! what sort of a fright?" + +"If you promise not to laugh at me, I'll tell you." + +"I promise. I won't." + +"'Twould be no laughing matter were it true. But, of course, it could +only be fancy." + +"Fancy about what? Go on, _tia_: I'm all impatience." + +"About the sailors on board. All have bad faces; some of them seem very +_demonios_. But there's one has particularly impressed me. Would you +believe it, Inez, he has eyes exactly like De Lara's! His features too +resemble those of Don Francisco; only that the sailor has a beard and +whiskers, while he had none. Of course the resemblance can be but +accidental. Still, it caused me a start, when I first observed it, and +has several times since. Never more than this very morning, when I was +up here, and saw that man. He was at the wheel, all by himself, +steering. Several times, on turning suddenly round, I caught him +looking straight at me, staring in the most insolent manner. I had half +a mind to complain to Captain Lantanas; but reflecting that we were so +near the end of our voyage--" + +She is not permitted to say more. For at the moment, a man appearing on +the poop-deck, as if he had risen out of it, stands before her--the +sailor who resembles De Lara! + +Making a low bow, he says: + +"Not _near_ the end of your voyage, _senorita_; but _at_ it," adding +with an ironical smile: "Now, ladies! you're going ashore. The boat is +down; and, combining business with pleasure, it's my duty to hand you +into it." + +While he is speaking, another of the sailors approaches Inez; Hernandez, +who offers his services in a similar style and strain. + +For a moment, the girls are speechless, through sheer stark +astonishment. Horror succeeds, as the truth flashes upon them. And +then, instead of coherent speech, they make answer by a simultaneous +shriek; at the same time making an attempt to retreat towards the +cabin-stair. + +Not a step is permitted them. They are seized in strong arms; and +half-dragged, half-lifted off their feet, hurried away from the +taffrail. + +Their cries are stifled by huge woollen caps drawn over their heads, and +down to their chins, almost choking them. But though no longer seeing, +and only indistinctly hearing, they can tell where they are being taken. +They feel themselves lifted over the vessel's side, and lowered down +man-ropes into a boat; along the bottom of which they are finally laid, +and held fast--as if they had fallen into the jaws of those terrible +_tintoreras_, they so lately looked at keeping company with the ship! + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY. + +THE SCUTTLERS. + +Harry Blew is in the hold, Bill Davis beside him. + +They are standing on the bottom-timbers on a spot they have selected for +their wicked work, and which they have had some difficulty in finding. +They have reached it, by clambering over sandal-wood logs, cases of +Manilla cigars, and piles of tortoise-shell. Clearing some of these +articles out of the way, they get sight of the vessel's ribs, and at a +point they know to be under the water-line. They know also that a hole +bored between their feet, though ever so small, will in due time fill +the barque's hold with water, and send her to the bottom of the sea. + +Davis, auger in hand, stands in readiness to bore the hole; waiting for +the first officer to give the word. + +But something stays the latter from giving it, as the former from +commencing the work. + +It is a thought that seems to occur simultaneously to both, bringing +their eyes up to one another's faces, in a fiance mutually +interrogative. Blew is the first to put it in speech. + +"Dang me, if I like to do it!" + +"Ye've spoke my mind exact, Mr Blew!" rejoins Davis. "No more do I." + +"'Tan't nothing short of murder," pursues the chief mate. "An' that's +just why I an't up to it; the more, as there an't any downright +needcessity. As I sayed to them above, I can see no good reason for +sinking the ship. She'd sail right out, an' we'd never hear word o' her +again. An' if them to be left 'board o' her shud get picked up, what +matters that to us? We'll be out o' the way, long afore they could go +anywhere to gi'e evidence against us. Neer a fear o' their ever findin' +us--neyther you nor me, anyhow. I dare say, Davis, you mean to steer +for some port, where we're not likely to meet any more Spaniards. I do, +when I've stowed my share o' the plunder." + +"Yes; I'm for Australia, soon's I can get there. That's the place for +men like me." + +"There you'll be safe enough. So I, where I intend goin'. And we'll +both feel better, not havin' a ugly thing to reflect back on. Which we +would, if we send these three poor creeturs to Davy's locker. Now, I +propose to you what you heerd me say to the rest: let's gi'e them a +chance for their lives." + +"And not do this?" + +As he puts the question, Davis points his auger to the bottom of the +ship. + +"There an't no need--not a morsel o' good can come from sinkin' her. +And not a bit harm in lettin' her slip." + +"What will the others say?" + +"They won't know anything about it--they can't unless we tell 'em. And +we won't be the fools to do that. As I argied to them, with the wind +off-shore, as 'tis now, she'll scud out o' sight o' land long afore +daylight. Bill Davis! whatsomever the others may do, or think they're +doin', let's me an' you keep our consciences clear o' this foul deed. +Believe me, mate, we'll both feel better for't some day." + +"If you think they won't know, I'm agreed." + +"How can they? There an't none o' them to see what we do down here. +'Taint likely there's any listener. Gie a knock or two wi' the mallet!" + +The ship's carpenter obeying, strikes several blows against an empty +water-cask, the noise ascending through the open hatch. He suspends his +strokes at hearing exclamations above; then screams in the shrill treble +of female voices. + +"You see they're not thinking o' us," says the mate. "Them Spaniards +are too busy about their own share o' the job. They're gettin' the +girls into the boat." + +"Yes; that's what they're doing." + +"Sweet girls both be. An't they, Davis?" + +"Ay, that they are; a pair of reg'lar beauties." + +"Look here, shipmate! Since we've settled this other thing, I want to +say a word about them too, and I may's well say it now. Gomez and that +land-lubber, Hernandez, are layin' claim to them, as if they had a +right. Now they haven't, no more than any o' the rest o' us. Some +others may have fancies, too. I confess to havin' a weakness for the +one wi' the copper-coloured hair, which is she as Gil Gomez wants to +'propriate. I made no objection to his takin' her into the boat. But +soon's we get ashore, I intend to stan' out for my rights to that little +bit o' property, which are just as good as his. Do you feel like +backin' me?" + +"Hang me, if I don't! I'm myself a bit sweet upon the dark 'un, and +have been, ever since settin' eyes on her. And though I've said +nothing, like yourself, I wasn't going to give that point up, before +having a talk about it. You say the word--I'll stan' by you. And if it +comes to fightin', I'll make short work with that bandy-legged chap +Hernandez, the one as wants her. We can count on Jack Striker on our +side; and most like the Dane and Dutchman; La Crosse for certain. +Frenchy don't cotton to them Spaniards, ever since his quarrel with +Padilla. But, as you say, let's go in for the girls, whether or not. +You can claim the light-haired. I'm for the dark one, an' damned if I +an't ready to fight for her--to the death!" + +"As I for the other!" exclaims the ex-man-o'-war, in eager serious +earnest. + +"But what's to be done after we go ashore?" asks Davis. "That's what's +been bothering me. We're about to land in a strange country, but where +these Spanish chaps will be at home, speakin' the lingo, an'll so have +the advantage of us. There's a difficulty. Can you see a way out of +it?" + +"Clearly." + +"How?" + +"Because the girls don't care for eyther o' the two as are layin' claim +to them. Contrarywise, they hate 'em both. I've knowd that all along. +So, if we get 'em out o' their clutches--at the same time givin' the +girls a whisper about protectin' them--they'll go willin'ly 'long wi' +us. Afterwards, we can act accordin' to the chances that turn up. Only +swear you'll stan' by me, Bill, an' wi' Striker to back us, we'll bring +things right." + +"I'm bound to stan' by you; so'll Jack, I'm sure. Hark! that's him, +now! He's calling to us. By God, I believe they're in the boat!" + +"They are! Let's hurry up! Just possible them Spaniards may take it +into their heads--. Quick, shipmate! Heave after me!" + +With this, Blew holds out the lantern to light them up the hatch, both +making as much haste to reach the deck as if their lives depended upon +speed. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY ONE. + +THE BARQUE ABANDONED. + +While the scuttlers are shirking their work in the _Condor's_ hold, and +simultaneous with the abduction on deck, a scene is transpiring in her +cabin, which might be likened to a saturnalia of demons. + +The skipper and Don Gregorio, sitting over their walnuts and wine, are +startled by the sound of footsteps descending the stair. As they are +heavy and hurried, bearing no resemblance to the gentle tread of woman-- +it cannot be the ladies coming down again. Nor yet the negro cook, +since his voice is heard above in angry expostulation. Two of the +sailors have just seized him in his galley, throttled him back on the +bench, and are there lashing him with a piece of log-line. + +They at the cabin-table know nothing of this. They hear his shouts, and +now also the shrieks of the young girls; but have no time to take any +steps, as at that instant the cuddy-door is dashed open, and several men +come rushing in; the second mate at their head. Lantanas, sitting with +his face to the door, sees them first, Don Gregorio, turning in his +seat, the instant after. + +Neither thinks of demanding a reason for the rude intrusion. The +determined air of the intruders, with the fierce expression on their +faces, tells it would be idle. + +In a time shorter than it takes to tell it, the two doomed men are made +fast to the stanchioned chairs; where they sit bolt upright, firm as +bollard heads. But not in silence. Both utter threats, oaths, angry +fulminations. + +Not for long are they allowed this freedom of speech. One of the +sailors, seizing a pair of nutcrackers, thrusts them between the +skipper's teeth, gagging him. Another with a corkscrew, does the like +for Don Gregorio. + +Then the work of pillage proceeds. The locker lids are forced, and the +boxes of gold-dust dragged out. + +Several goings and comings are required for its transport to the +pinnace; but at length it is stowed in the boat, the plunderers taking +their seats beside it. + +One lingers in the cabin behind the rest; that fiend in human shape who +has all along counselled killing the unfortunate men. + +Left alone with them, helpless, and at his mercy, he looks as if still +determined to do this. It is not from any motive of compassion that he +goes from one to the other, and strikes the gags from between their +teeth. For at the same time he apostrophises them in horrid mockery: + +"_Carramba_! I can't think of leaving two gentlemen seated at such a +well-furnished table, and no end of wine, without being able to hob-nob, +and drink one another's health!" + +Then specially addressing himself to Lantanas, he continues: + +"You see, captain, I'm not spiteful; else I shouldn't think of showing +you this bit of civility, after the insults you've offered me, since +I've been second officer of your ship." + +After which, turning angrily upon Don Gregorio, and going close up, he +shrieks into his ears: + +"Perhaps you don't know me, Montijo? Can your worship recall a +circumstance that occurred some six years ago, when you where +_alcalde-mayor_ of Yerba Buena? You may remember having a poor fellow +pilloried, and whipped, for doing a bit of contraband. I was that +unfortunate individual. And this is my satisfaction for the indignity +you put upon me. Keep your seats, gentlemen! Drink your wine and eat +your walnuts. Before you've cleared the table, this fine barque, with +your noble selves, will be at the bottom of the sea." + +The ruffian concludes with a peal of scornful laughter, continued as he +ascends the cabin-stair, after striding out and banging the door behind +him! + +On deck, he sees himself alone; and hurrying to the ship's waist, +scrambles over the side, down into the boat; where he finds everything +stowed, the oarsmen seated on the thwarts, their oars in the rowlocks, +ready to shove off. + +They are not all there yet. Two--the first mate and Davis are still +aboard the barque--down in her hold. + +There are those who would gladly cast loose, and leave the laggards +behind. Indeed, soon as stepping into the boat, Padilla proposes it, +the other Spaniards abetting him. + +But their traitorous desire is opposed by Striker. However otherwise +debased, the ex-convict is true to the men who speak his own tongue. + +He protests in strong determined language, and is backed by the +Dutchman, Dane, and La Crosse, as also Tarry and Slush. + +"Bah!" exclaims Padilla, seeing himself in the minority; "I was only +jesting. Of course, I had no intention to abandon them. Ha, ha, ha!" +he adds with a forced laugh, "we'd be the blackest of traitors to behave +that way." + +Striker pays no heed to the hypocritical speech, but calls to his old +chum and Harry Blew--alternately pronouncing their names. + +He gets response, and soon after sees Davis above, clambering over the +rail. + +Blew is not far behind, but still does not appear. He is by the foot of +the mainmast with a haulyard in his hands as though hoisting something +aloft. The moon has become clouded, and it is too dark for any one to +see what it is. Besides, there is no one observing him--no one could, +the bulwarks being between. + +"Hillo, there, Blew!" again hails Striker; "what be a-keepin' ye? Hurry +down! These Spanish chaps are threetnin' to go off without ye." + +"Hang it!" exclaims the chief mate, now showing the side; "I hope that +an't true!" + +"Certainly not!" exclaims Padilla; "nothing of the kind. We were only +afraid you might delay too long, and be in danger of going down with the +vessel." + +"Not much fear of that," returns Blew, dropping into the boat, "It'll be +some time afore she sinks. Ye fixed the rudder for her to run out, +didn't ye?" + +"Ay, ay!" responds he who was the last at the wheel. + +"All right; shove off, then! That wind'll take the old _Condor_ +straight seawart; and long afore sunrise she'll be out sight o' land. +Give way there--way!" + +The oars dip and plash. The boat separates from the side, with prow +turned shoreward. + +The barque, with her sails still spread, is left to herself, and the +breeze, which wafts her gently away towards the wide wilderness of +ocean. + +Proceeding cautiously, guarding against the rattle of an oar in its +rowlock, the pirates run their boat through the breakers, and approach +the shore. Right ahead are the two summits, with the moon just going +down behind; and between is a cove of horseshoe shape, the cliffs +extending around it. + +With a few more strokes the boat is brought into it and glides on to its +innermost end. + +As the keel grates upon the shingly strand, their ears are saluted by a +chorus of cries--the alarm signal of seabirds, startled by the +intrusion; among them the scream of the harpy eagle, resembling the +laugh of a maniac. + +These sounds, despite their discordance, are sweet to those now hearing +them. They tell of a shore uninhabited--literally, that the "coast is +clear"--just as they wish it. + +Beaching the boat, they bound on shore, and lift their captives out; +then the spoils--one unresisting as the other. + +Some go in search of a place where they may pass the night; for it is +too late to think of proceeding inland. + +Between the strand and the cliff's base, these discover a beach, several +feet above sea-level, having an area of over an acre, covered with +coarse grass, just the spot for a camping-place. + +As the sky has become clouded, and threatens a downpour of rain, they +carry thither the boat's sail, intending to rig it up as an awning. + +But a discovery is made which spares them the trouble. Along its base +the cliff is honeycombed with caves, one of ample dimensions, sufficient +to shelter the whole crew. A ship's lamp, which they have brought with +them, when lighted throws its glare upon stalactites, that sparkle like +the pendants of chandeliers. + +Disposing themselves in various attitudes, some reclined on their spread +pilot-coats, some seated on stones or canvas bags, they enter upon a +debauch with the wines abstracted from the stores of the abandoned +barque--drinking, talking, singing, shouting, and swearing, till the +cavern rings with their hellish revelry. It is well their captives are +not compelled to take part in, or listen to, it. To them has been +appropriated one of the smaller grottoes, the boat-sail fixed in front +securing them privacy. Harry Blew has done this. In the breast of the +British man-o'-war's man there is still a spark of delicacy. Though his +gratitude has given way to the greed of gold, he has not yet sunk to the +level of that ruffianism around him. + +While the carousal is thus carried on within the cave, without, the +overcast sky begins to discharge itself. Lightning forks and flashes +athwart the firmament; thunder rolls reverberating along the cliffs; a +strong wind sweeps them; the rain pouring down in torrents. + +It is a tropic storm--short-lived, lasting scarce half-an-hour. + +But, while on, it lashes the sea into fury, driving the breakers upon +the beach, where the beat has been left loosely moored. + +In the reflux of the ebbing tide, this is set afloat and carried away +seaward. Driven then upon the coral reef, it bilges, is broken to +pieces, when the fragments, as waifs, dance about, and drift far away +over the foam-crested billows. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY TWO. + +TWO TARQUINS. + +It is after midnight. A calm has succeeded the storm; and silence +reigns around the cove where the pirates have put in. The seabirds have +returned to their perches on the cliff, and now sit noiselessly--save an +occasional angry scream from the osprey, as a whip-poor-will, or some +other plumed plunderer of the night, flits past his place of repose, +near enough to wake the tyrant of the sea-shore, and excite his jealous +rage. + +Other sounds are the dull boom of the outside breakers, and the lighter +ripple of the tidal wave washing over a strand rich in shells. + +Now and then, a _manatee_, raising its bristled snout above the surf, +gives out a low prolonged wail, like the moan of some creature in mortal +agony. + +But there is no human voice now. The ruffians have ended their +carousal. Their profane songs, ribald jests, and drunken cachinations, +inharmoniously mingling with the soft monotone of the sea, have ceased +to be heard. They lie astretch along the cavern floor, its hollow +aisles echoing back their snores and stertorous breathing. + +Still they are not all asleep, nor all within the cavern. Two are +outside, sauntering along the shadow of the cliff. As the moon has also +gone down, it is too dark to distinguish their faces. Still, there is +light enough reflected from the luminous surface of the sea to show that +neither is in sailor garb, but the habiliments of landsmen--this the +national costume of Spanish California. On their heads are _sombreros_ +of ample brim; wide trousers--_cahoneras_--flap loose around their +ankles; while over their shoulders they carry cloaks, which, by the +peculiar drape, are recognisable as Mexican _mangas_. In the obscurity +the colour of these cannot be determined, though one is scarlet, the +other sky-blue. + +Apparelled as the two men are now, it would be difficult to identify +them as Gil Gomez and Jose Hernandez. For all it is they. + +They are strolling about without fear, or thought of any one observing +them. Yet one is; a man, who has come out of the larger cavern just +after them, and who follows them along the cliff's base. Not openly or +boldly, as designing to join in their deliberation; but crouchingly and +by stealth, as if playing spy on them. + +He is in sailor togs, wearing a loose dreadnought coat, which he buttons +on coming out of the cavern. But before closing it over his breast, the +butt of a pistol, and the handle of a knife, could be seen gleaming +there, both stuck behind a leathern waist belt. + +On first stepping forth, he stands for a time with eyes fixed upon the +other two. He can see them but indistinctly, while they cannot see him +at all, his figure making no silhouette against the dark disc of the +cave's mouth. And afterwards, as he moves along the cliff, keeping +close in, its shadow effectually conceals him from their view. But +still safer is he from being observed by them, after having ensconced +himself in a cleft of rock; which he does while their backs are turned +upon him. + +In the obscure niche he now occupies no light falls upon his face--not a +ray. If there did, it would disclose the countenance of Harry Blew; and +as oft before, with an expression upon it not easily understood. But no +one sees, much less makes attempt to interpret it. + +Meanwhile the two saunterers come to a stop and stand conversing. It is +Gomez who is first heard saying: + +"I've been thinking, _companero_, now we've got everything straight so +far, that our best plan will be to stay where we are till the other +matter's fixed." + +"What other are you speaking of?" + +"The marrying, of course." + +"Oh! that. Well?" + +"We can send on for the _padre_, and bring him here; or failing him, the +_cura_. To tell truth, I haven't the slightest idea of where we've come +ashore. We may be a goodish distance from Santiago; and to go there, +embargoed as we are, there's a possibility of our being robbed of our +pretty baggage on the route. You understand me?" + +"I do!" + +"Against risk of that kind, it is necessary we should take precautions. +And the first--as also the best I can think of--is to stay here till +we're spliced. One of our two Californian friends can act as a +messenger. Either, with six words I shall entrust to him, will be +certain to bring back an ecclesiastic, having full powers to perform the +flea-bite of a ceremony. Then we can march inland without fear--ay, +with flying colours; both Benedicts, our blushing brides on our arms, +and in Santiago spend a pleasant honeymoon." + +"Delightful anticipation!" + +"Just so. And for that very reason, we mustn't risk marring it; which +we might, by travelling as simple bachelors. So I say, let us get +married before going a step farther." + +"But the others? Are they to assist at our nuptials?" + +"Certainly not." + +"In what way can it be avoided?" + +"The simplest in the world. It's understood that we divide our plunder +the first thing in the morning. When that's done, and each has packed +up his share, I intend proposing that we separate--every one to go his +own gait." + +"Will they agree to that, think you?" + +"Of course they will. Why shouldn't they? It's the safest way for all, +and they'll see that. Twelve of us trooping together through the +country--to say nothing of having the women along--the story we're to +tell about shipwreck might get discredited. When that's made clear, to +our old shipmates, they'll be considerate for their own safety. Trust +me for making it clear. Of course we'll keep our Californian friends to +act as groomsmen; so that the only things wanted will be a brace of +bridesmaids." + +"Ha, ha, ha!" laughs Hernandez. + +"And now to see about our brides. We've not yet proposed to them. We +went once to do that, and were disappointed. Not much danger of that +now." + +"For all that, we may count upon a flat refusal." + +"Flat or sharp, little care I. And it won't signify, one way or the +other. In three days or less I intend calling Carmen Montijo my wife. +But come on; I long to lay my hand and heart at her feet." + +Saying which Gomez strides on towards the grotto, the other by his side, +like two Tarquins about to invade the sleep of virginal innocence. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY THREE. + +WITHIN THE GROTTO. + +Though the grotto is in darkness, its occupants are not asleep. To them +repose is impossible; for they are that moment in the midst of anguish, +keen as human heart could feel. They have passed through its first +throes, and are for the while a little calmer. But it is the +tranquillity of deep, deadening grief, almost despair. They mourn him +dearest to them as dead. + +Nor have they any doubt of it. How could they? While in the boat, they +heard their captors speak about the scuttling of the ship, well knowing +what they meant. Long since has she gone to the bottom of the sea, with +the living left aboard, or perhaps only their lifeless bodies; for they +may have been murdered before! No matter now in what way death came to +them. Enough of sadness and horror to think it has come--enough for the +bereaved ones to know they are bereft. + +Nor do they need telling why it has all been done. Though hindered from +seeing while in the boat, they have heard. Cupidity the cause; the +crime a scheme to plunder the ship. Alas! it has succeeded. + +But all is not yet over. Would that it were! There is something still +to come; something they fear to reflect upon, or speak of to one +another. What is to be their own fate? + +Neither can tell, or guess. Their thoughts are too distracted for +reasoning. But in the midst of vague visions, one assumes a shape too +well-defined. It is the same of which Carmen was speaking when seized. + +She again returns to it, saying: + +"Inez, I'm now almost sure we are not in the hands of strangers. From +what has happened, and some voices we heard, I fear my suspicions have +been too true!" + +"Heaven help us, if it be so!" + +"Yes; Heaven help us! Even from pirates we might have expected some +mercy; but none from them. _Ay de mi_! what will become of us?" + +The interrogatory is only answered by a sigh. The spirit of the +Andalusian girl, habitually cheerful, is now crushed under a weight of +very wretchedness. Soon again they exchange speech, seeking counsel of +one another. Is there no hope, no hand to help, no one to whom they may +turn in this hour of dread ordeal? No--not one! Even the English +sailor, in whom they had trusted, has proved untrue; to all appearance, +chief of the conspiring crew! Every human being seems to have abandoned +them. Has God? + +"Let us pray to Him!" says Carmen. + +"Yes," answers Inez; "He only can help us now." + +They kneel side by side on the hard, cold floor of the cave, and send up +their voices in earnest prayer. They first entreat the Holy Virgin that +the life of him dear to them may yet be spared; then invoke her +protection for themselves, against a danger both dread as death itself. +They pray in trembling accents, but with a fervour eloquent through +fear. + +Solemnly pronouncing "Amen!" they make the sign of the cross; in +darkness, God alone seeing it. + +As their hands drop down from the gesture, and while they are still in a +kneeling attitude, a noise outside succeeds their appeal to Heaven, +suddenly recalling them to earthly thoughts and fears. + +They hear voices of men in conversation; at the same time the sailcloth +is pushed aside, and two men press past it into the cave. Soon as +entering one says: + +"Senoritas! we must ask pardon for making our somewhat untimely call; +which present circumstances render imperative. It's to be hoped, +however, you won't stand upon such stiff ceremony with us, as when we +had the honour of last paying our respects to you." + +After this singular peroration, the speaker pauses to see what may be +the effect of his words. As this cannot be gathered from any reply-- +since none is vouchsafed--he continues; "Dona Carmen Montijo, you and I +are old acquaintances; though, it may be, you do not remember my voice. +With the sound of the sea so long echoing in your ears, that's not +strange. Perhaps the sense of sight will prove more effectual in +recalling an old friend. Let me give you something to assist it!" + +Saying this, he holds out a lantern, hitherto concealed beneath his +cloak. As it lights up the grotto, four figures are seen erect; for the +girls have sprung to their feel in apprehension of immediate danger. +Upon all, the light shines clear; and, fronting her, Carmen Montijo +sees--too surely recognising it--the face of Francisco de Lara; while in +her _vis-a-vis_, Inez Alvarez beholds Faustino Calderon! + +Yes, before them are their scorned suitors; no longer disguised in +sailor garb, but resplendent in their Californian costume--the same worn +by them on that day of their degradation, when De Lara rolled in the +dust of the Dolores road. + +Now that he has them in his power, his triumph is complete; and in +strains of exultation he continues: + +"So, ladies! you see we've come together again! No doubt you're a +little surprised at our presence, but I hope not annoyed." + +There is no reply to this taunting speech. + +"Well, if you won't answer, I shall take it for granted you _are_ +annoyed; besides looking a little alarmed too. You've no need to be +that." + +"No, indeed," endorses Calderon. "We mean you no harm--none whatever." + +"On the contrary," goes on De Lara, "only good. We've nothing but +favours to offer you." + +"Don Francisco de Lara!" exclaims Carmen, at length breaking silence, +and speaking in a tone of piteous expostulation; "and you, Don Faustino +Calderon, why have you committed this crime? What injury have we ever +done you?" + +"Come! not so fast, fair Carmen! Crime's a harsh word, and we've not +committed any as yet--nothing to speak of." + +"No crime! _Santissima_! My father--my poor father!" + +"Don't be uneasy about him. He's safe enough." + +"Safe! Dead! Drowned! _Dios de mi alma_!" + +"No, no. That's all nonsense," protests the fiend, adding falsehood to +his sin of deeper dye. "Don Gregorio is not where you say. Instead of +being at the sea's bottom, he is sailing upon its surface; and is likely +to be, for Heaven knows how long. But let's drop that subject of the +past, which seems unpleasant to you, and talk of the present--of +ourselves. You ask what injury you've ever done us? Faustino Calderon +may answer for himself to the fair Inez. To you, Dona Carmen, I shall +make reply--But we may as well confer privately." + +At this he lays hold of her wrist, and leads her aside; Calderon +conducting Inez in the opposite direction. + +When the whole length of the cavern is between the two pairs, De Lara +resumes speech: + +"Yes, Dona Carmen; you _have_ done me an injury--a double wrong I may +call it." + +"How, sir?" she asks, withdrawing her hand from his, with a disdainful +gesture. "How?" he retorts. "Why, in making me love you--by leading me +to believe my love returned." + +"You speak falsely; I never did so." + +"You did, Dona Carmen; you did. It is you who speak false, denying it. +That is the first wrong I have to reproach you with. The second is in +casting me off, as soon as you supposed you'd done with me. Not so, as +you see now. We're together again--never more to part till I've had +satisfaction for all. I once hinted--I now tell you plainly, you've +made a mistake in trifling with Francisco de Lara." + +"I never trifled with you, senor. _Dios mio_! What means this? Man-- +if you be a man--have mercy! Oh! what would you--what would you?" + +"Nothing to call for such distracted behaviour on your part. On the +contrary, I've brought you here--for I'll not deny that it's I who have +done it--to grant you favours, instead of asking them. Ay, or even +satisfying resentments. What I intend towards you, I hope you will +appreciate. To shorten explanations--for which we've neither +opportunity nor time--I want you for my wife--_want you, and will have +you_." + +"_Your_ wife!" + +"Yes; my wife. You needn't look surprised, nor counterfeit feeling it. +And equally idle for you to make opposition. I've determined upon it. +So, you must many me." + +"Marry the murderer of my father! Sooner than do that, you shall also +be mine. Wretch! I am in your power. You can kill me now." + +"I know all that, without your telling me. But I don't intend killing +you. On the contrary, I shall take care to keep you alive, until I've +tried what sort of a wife you'll make. Should you prove a good one, and +fairly affectionate, we two may lead a happy life together, +notwithstanding the little unpleasantness that's been between us. If +not, and our wedded bondage prove uncongenial, why, then, I may release +you in the way you wish, or any other that seems suitable. After the +honeymoon, you shall have your choice. Now Dona Carmen! those are my +conditions. I hope you find them fair enough!" + +She makes no reply. The proud girl is dumb, partly with indignation, +partly from the knowledge that all speech would be idle. But while +angry to the utmost, she is also afraid--trembling at the alternative +presented--death or dishonour; the last if she marry the murderer of her +father; the first if she refuse him! + +The ruffian repeats his proposal, in the same cynical strain, concluding +it with a threat. + +She is at length stung to reply; which she does in but two words, twice +repeated in wild despairing accent. They are: + +"Kill me--kill me!" + +Almost at the same time, and in similar strain does Inez answer her +cowardly suitor, who in a corner of the grotto has alike brought her to +bay. + +After the dual response, there is a short interval of silence. Then De +Lara, speaking for both, says: + +"Senoritas! we shall leave you now; and you can go to sleep without fear +of further solicitation. No doubt, after a night's rest, you'll awake +to a more sensible view of matters in general, and the case as it +stands. Of one thing be assured; that there's no chance of your +escaping from your present captivity, unless by consenting to change +your names. And if you don't consent, they'll be changed all the same. +Yes, Carmen Montijo! before another week passes over your head, you +shall be addressed as Dona Carmen de Lara. + +"And you, Inez Alvarez, will be called Dona Inez Calderon. No need for +you to feel dishonoured by a name among the first in California. Noble +as your own; ay, or any in old Spain." + +"_Hasta manana, muchacas_!" salutes De Lara, preparing to take leave. +"_Pasan Vs buena noche_!" + +Calderon repeating the same formulary, the two step towards the +entrance, lift up the piece of suspended sailcloth, and pass out into +night. They have taken the lantern along with them, again leaving the +grotto in darkness. + +The girls grope their way, till their arms come in contact. Then, +closing in mutual embrace, they sink together upon the cold flinty +floor! + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR. + +OCEANWARDS. + +Another day dawns over the great South Sea. As the golden orb shows +above the crest of the central American Cordillera, its beams scatter +wide over the Pacific, as a lamp raised aloft, flashing its light afar. +Many degrees of longitude receive instant illumination, at once turning +night into day. + +An observer looking west over that vast watery expanse would see on its +shining surface objects that gladdened not the eyes of Balboa. In his +day, only the rude Indian _balsa, or_ frail _periagua_, afraid to +venture out, stole timidly along the shore; but now huge ships, with +broad white sails, and at rare intervals the long black hull of a +steamer, thick smoke vomited forth from her funnel, may be descried in a +offing that extends to the horizon itself. + +But not always may ships be seen upon it; for the commerce of the +Pacific is slight compared with that of the Atlantic, and large vessels +passing along the coast of Veragua are few and far between. + +On this morning, however, one is observed, and but one; she not sailing +coastwise, but standing out towards mid-ocean, as though she had just +left the land. + +As the ascending sun dispels the night darkness around her, she can be +descried as a white fleck on the blue water, her spread sails seeming no +bigger than the wings of a sea-gull. Still, through a telescope-- +supposing it in the hands of a seaman--she may be told to be a craft +with polacca-masts; moreover, that the sails on her mizzen are not +square-set, but fore-and-aft, proclaiming her a barque. For she is one; +and could the observer through his glass make out the lettering upon her +stern, he would read there her name, _El Condor_. + +Were he transported aboard of her, unaware of what has happened, it +would surprise him to find her decks deserted; not even a man at the +wheel, though she is sailing with full canvas spread, even to +studding-sails; no living thing seen anywhere, save two monstrous +creatures covered with rust-coloured hair--mocking counterfeits of +humanity. + +Equally astonished would he be at finding her forecastle abandoned; +sailors' chests with the lids thrown open, and togs lying loose around +them! Nor would it lessen his astonishment to glance into the galley, +and there behold a black man sitting upon its bench, who does not so +much as rise to receive him. Nor yet, descending her cabin-stair, to +see a table profusely spread, at either end guest, alike uncourteous in +keeping their seats, on the laces of both an expression of agonised +despair! And all _this_ might be seen on board the Chilian barque, on +the morning after she was abandoned by her traitorous and piratical +crew, A sad night has it been for the three unfortunates left aboard, +more especially the two constrained to sit at the cabin-table. Both +have bitterest thoughts, enough to fill the cup of their misery to the +brim. A night of anguish for the ex-haciendado. Not because of having +seen his treasure, the bulk of his fortune, borne off before his eyes; +but from the double shriek which, at that same instant, reached him from +the deck, announcing the seizure of things more dear. His daughter and +grand-daughter were then made captive; and, from their cries suddenly +leasing, he dreaded something worse--fearing them stifled by death. +Reminded of an event in Yerba Buena, as also recognising the ruffian who +taunted him, made it the more probable that such had been their fate. +He almost wished it; he would rather that, than a doom too horrible to +think of. + +The first mate? He must have been killed too; butchered while +endeavouring to defend them? The unsuspicious captain could not think +of his chief officer having gone against him; and how could Don Gregorio +believe the man so recommended turning traitor? + +While they were thus charitably judging him, they received a crushing +response; hearing his voice among the mutineers--not in expostulation, +or opposed, but as if taking part with them! One, Striker, called out +his name, to which he answered; and, soon after, other speeches from his +lips sounded clear through the cabin windows, open on that mild +moonlight night. + +Still listening, as they gazed in one another's face with mute +astonishment, they heard a dull thud against the ship's side--the stroke +of a boat-hook as the pinnace was shoved off--then a rattle, as the oars +commence working in the tholes, succeeded by the plash of the oar-blades +in the water. After that, the regular "dip-dip," at length dying away, +as the boat receded, leaving the abandoned vessel silent as a graveyard +in the mid-hour of night. + +Seated with face towards the cuddy windows, Don Gregorio could see +through them, and as the barque's bow rose on the swell, depressing her +stern, he commanded a view of the sea outside. + +There, upon its calm clear surface, he made out a dark object moving +away. It was a boat filled with forms, the oar-blades rising and +tailing in measured stroke, flashing the phosphorescence on both sides. +No wonder at his earnest look--his gaze of concentrated anguish! That +boat held all that was dear to him--bearing that all away, he knows not +whither, to a fate he dare not reflect upon. He could trace the +outlines of land beyond, and perceive that the boat was being rowed for +it, the barque at the same time sailing seaward, each instant widening +the distance between them. But for a long while he could distinguish +the black speck with luminous jets on either side, as the oar-blades +intermittently rose and fell, till at length, entering within the shadow +of the land, he lost sight of it. + +"Gone! all gone!" groaned the bereaved father, his beard drooping down +to his breast, his countenance showing he has surrendered up his soul to +despair! So, too, Lantanas. + +Then both ceased struggling and shouting, alike convinced of the +idleness of such demonstrations. The chief officer a mutineer, so must +all the others; and all had forsaken the ship. No; not all! There is +one remains true, and who is still on her--the black cook. They heard +his voice, though not with any hope. It came from a distant part of the +ship in cries betokening distress. They could expect no help from him. +He was either disabled, or, as themselves, fast bound. + +Throughout the night they heard it; the intervals between becoming +longer, the voice fainter, till he also, yielding to despair, was +silent. + +As the morning sun shines in through the stern windows, Don Gregorio can +see they are out of sight of land. Only sea and sky are visible to him; +but neither to Lantanas, whose face is the other way; so fastened he +cannot even turn his head. + +The barque is scudding before a breeze, which bears her still farther +into the great South Sea; on whose broad bosom she might beat for weeks, +months--ay, till her timbers rot--without sighting ship, or being +herself descried by human eye. Fearful thought--appalling prospect to +those constrained to sit at her cabin-table! + +With that before their minds, the morning light brings no joy. Instead, +it but intensifies their misery. For they are now sure they have no +chance of being rescued. + +They sit haggard in their chairs--for no sleep has visited the eyes of +either--like men who have been all night long engaged in a drunken +debauch. + +Alas! how different! The glasses of wine before them are no longer +touched, nor the fruits tasted. Neither the bouquet of the one, nor the +perfume of the other, has any charm for them now. Either is as much +beyond their reach, as if a thousand miles off, instead of on a table +between them! + +Gazing in one another's faces, they at once fancy it a dream. They can +scarcely bring themselves to realise such a situation! Who could! The +rude intrusion of the ruffian crew--the rough handling they have had-- +the breaking open of the lockers--and the boxes of gold borne off--all +seem but the phantasmagoria of some horrible vision! + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE. + +PARTITIONING THE SPOIL. + +The same sun that shines upon the abandoned barque lights up the men who +abandoned her, still on that spot where they came ashore. As the first +rays fall over the cliff's crest, they show a cove of semicircular +shape, backed by a beetling precipice. A ledge or dyke, sea-washed, and +weed-covered, trends across its entrance, with a gate-like opening in +the centre, through which, at high tide, the sea sweeps in, though never +quite up to the base of the cliff. Between this and the strand lies the +elevated platform already spoken of, accessible from above by a sloping +ravine, the bed of a stream running only when it rains. As said, it is +only an acre or so in extent, and occupying the inner concavity of the +semicircle. The beach is not visible from it, this concealed by the dry +reef which runs across it as the chord of an arc. Only a small portion +of it can be seen through the portal which admits the tidal flow. +Beyond, stretches the open sea outside the surf, with the breakers more +than a mile off. + +Such is the topography of the place where the mutineers have made +landing and passed the night. When the day dawns, but little is there +seen to betray their presence. Only a man seated upon a stone, nodding +as if asleep, at intervals awakening with a start, and grasping at a gun +between his legs; soon letting it go, and again giving way to slumber, +the effects of that drunken debauch kept up to a late hour. He would be +a poor sentinel were there need for vigilance. + +Seemingly, there is none. No enemy is near--no human being in sight; +the only animate objects some seabirds, that, winging their way along +the face of the cliff, salute him with an occasional scream, as if +incensed by his presence in a spot they deem sacred to themselves. + +The sun fairly up, he rises to his feet, and walks towards the entrance +of the larger cavern; then stopping in front of it, cries out: + +"Inside there, shipmates! Sun's up--time to be stirring!" + +Seeing him in motion, and hearing his hail, the gulls gather, and swoop +around his head in continuous screaming. In larger numbers, and with +cries more stridulent, as his comrades come forth out of the cave, one +after another--yawning, and stretching their arms. + +The first, looking seaward, proposes to refresh himself by a plunge in +the surf; and for this purpose starts toward the beach. The others, +taken with the idea, follow in twos and threes, till in a string all are +_en route_ for the strand. + +To reach this, it is necessary for them to pass through the gap in the +transverse ledge; which the tide, now at ebb, enables them to do. + +He who leads, having gone through it, on getting a view of the shore +outside, suddenly stops; as he does so, sending back a shout. It is a +cry of surprise, followed by the startling announcement: + +"The boat's gone!" + +This should cause them apprehension; and would, if they but knew the +consequences. Ignorant of these, they make light of it, one saying: + +"Let her go, and be damned! We want no boats now." + +"A horse would be more to our purpose," suggests a second; "or, for that +matter, a dozen." + +"A dozen donkeys would do," adds a third, accompanying his remark with a +horse-laugh. "It'll take about that many to pack our possibles." + +"What's become of the old pinnace, anyhow?" asks one in sober strain; +as, having passed through the rock-portal, they stand scanning the +strand. All remember the place where they left the boat; and see it is +not there. + +"Has any one made away with it?" + +The question is asked, and instantly answered, several saying, no. +Striker, the man who first missed it, vouchsafes the explanation: + +"The return tide's taken it out; an' I dar say, it's broke to bits on +them theer breakers." + +They now remember it was not properly moored, but left with painter +loose; and do not wonder it went adrift. They care little, indeed +nothing, and think of it no longer; but, stripping, plunge into the +surf. + +After bathing to their hearts' content, they return to the cavern, and +array themselves in garments befitted to the life they intend leading. +Their tarry togs are cast off, to be altogether abandoned; for each has +a suit of shore clothes, brought away from the barque. + +Every one rigged out in his own peculiar style, and breakfast +despatched, they draw together to deliberate on a plan of future action. +But first the matter of greatest moment--the partition of the spoils. + +It is made in little time, and with no great trouble. The boxes are +broken open, and the gold-dust measured out in a pannikin; a like number +of measures apportioned to each. + +In money value no one can tell the exact amount of his share. Enough +satisfaction to know it is nigh as much as he can carry. + +After each has appropriated his own, they commence packing up, and +preparing for the inland journey. And next arises the question, what +way are they to go? + +They have already resolved to strike for the city of Santiago; but in +what order should they travel? Separate into several parties, or go all +together? + +The former plan, proposed by Gomez, is supported by Padilla, Hernandez, +and Velarde. Gomez gives his reasons. Such a large number of +pedestrians along roads where none save horsemen are ever seen, could +not fail to excite surprise. It might cause inconvenient questions to +be asked them--perhaps lead to their being arrested, and taken before +some village _alcalde_. And what story could they tell? + +On the other hand, there will be the chance of coming across Indians; +and as those on the Veraguan coast are ranked among the "bravos"--having +preserved their independence, and along with it their instinctive +hostility to the whites--an encounter with them might be even more +dangerous than with any _alcalde_. Struggling along in squads of two or +three, they would run a risk of getting captured, or killed, or +scalped--perhaps all three. + +This is the suggestion of Harry Blew, Striker and Davis alone favouring +his view. All the others go against it, Gomez ridiculing the idea of +danger from red men; at the same time enlarging on that to be +apprehended from white ones. + +As the majority have more reason to fear civilised man than the +so-called savage, it ends in their deciding for separation. They can +come together again in Santiago if they choose it; or not, should chance +for good or ill so determine. They are all now amply provided for, +playing an independent part in the drama of life; and with this pleasant +prospect, they may part company without a sigh of regret. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY SIX. + +A TENDER SUBJECT. + +The pirates having definitively settled the mode of making their inland +journey, there is a short interregnum; during which most of those ready +for the road stand idling, one or two still occupied in equipping +themselves. + +La Crosse has been sent up the ravine, to report how things look +landward. + +The four Spaniards have signified their intention to remain a little +longer on the ground; while the three Englishmen have not said when they +will leave. These are together conferring in low voice; but with an +earnestness in their eyes--especially Blew's--which makes it easy to +guess the subject. Only thoughts of woman could kindle these fiery +glances. + +Soon all appear ready to depart. Still no one stirs from the spot. For +there is something yet: still another question to be determined; to most +of them a matter of little, though to some of all consequence. + +In the latter light, two at least regard it; since with them it has been +the source, the primary motive, the real spur to all their iniquitous +action. In a word, it is the women. + +The captives: how are they to be disposed of? + +They are still within the grotto, unseen, as the sailcloth curtains it. +Breakfast has been taken to them, which they have scarce touched. + +And, now, the time has come for deciding what has to be done with them; +no one openly asks, or says word upon the subject; though it is +uppermost in the thoughts of all. It is a delicate question, and they +are shy of broaching it. For there is a sort of tacit impression there +will be difficulty about the appropriation of this portion of the +spoils--an electricity in the air, that foretells dispute and danger. +All along it had been understood that two men laid claim to them; their +claim, whether just or not, hitherto unquestioned, or, at all events, +uncontested. These, Gomez and Hernandez. As they had been the original +designers of the supposed deed, now done, their confederates, men little +given to love-making, had either not thought about the women, or deemed +their possession of secondary importance. But now, at the eleventh +hour, it has become known that two others intend asserting a claim to +them--one being Blew, the other Davis. + +And these two certainly seem so determined, their eyes constantly +turning towards the grotto where the girls are, unconscious of the +interest they are exciting. + +At length the dreaded interrogatory is put--and point blank. For it is +Jack Striker who puts it. The "Sydney Duck" is not given to sentiment +or circumlocution. + +Speaking that all may hear him, he blurts out: + +"Well, chums? what are we to do wi' the weemen?" + +"Oh! they?" answers Gomez in a drawling tone, and with an affectation of +indifference. "_You've_ nothing to do with them, and needn't take any +trouble. They'll go with us--with Senor Hernandez and myself." + +"Will they, indeed?" sharply questions the chief officer. + +"Of course," answers Gomez. + +"I don't see any of course about it," rejoins Blew. "And more'n that, I +tell ye they don't go with ye--leastwise, not so cheap as you think +for." + +"What do you mean, Mr Blew?" demands the Spaniard, his eyes betraying +anger, with some uneasiness. + +"No use your losin' temper, Gil Gomez. You ain't goin' to scare me. So +you may as well keep cool. By doin' that, and listenin', you'll larn +what I mean. The which is, that you and Hernandez have no more right to +them creeturs in the cave than any o' the rest of us. Just as the gold, +so ought it to be wi' the girls. In coorse, we can't divide them all +round; but that's no reason why any two should take 'em, so long's any +other two wants 'em as well. Now, _I_ wants one o' them." + +"And I another!" puts in Davis. + +"Yes," continues Blew; "and though I be a bit older than you, Mr Gomez, +and not quite so pretentious a gentleman, I can like a pretty wench as +well's yerself. I've took a fancy to the one wi' the tortoise-shell +hair, an' an't goin' to gi'e her up in the slack way you seem to be +wishin'." + +"Glad to hear it's the red one, Blew," says Davis. "As I'm for the +black one, there'll be no rivalry between us. Her I mean to have-- +unless some better man hinders me." + +"Well," interpolates Striker, "as 'twas me first put the questyun, I +'spose I'll be allowed to gi'e an opeenyun?" + +No one saying nay, the ex-convict proceeds: + +"As to any one hevin' a speecial claim to them weemen, nobody has, an' +nobody shed have. 'Bout that, Blew's right, an' so's Bill. An' since +the thing's disputed, it oughter be settled in a fair an' square--" + +"You needn't waste your breath," interrupts Gomez, in a tone of +determination. "I admit no dispute in the matter. If these gentlemen +insist, there's but one way of settling. First, however, I'll say a +word to explain. One of these ladies is my sweetheart--was, before I +ever saw any of you. Senor Hernandez here can say the same of the +other. Nay, I may tell you more; they are pledged to us." + +"It's a lie!" cries Blew, confronting the slanderer, and looking him +straight in the face. "A lie, Gil Gomez, from the bottom o' your black +heart!" + +"Enough!" exclaims Gomez, now purple with rage. "No man can give Frank +Lara the lie, and live after." + +"Frank Lara; or whatever you may call yerself, I'll live long enough to +see you under ground--or what's more like, hangin' high above it wi' +your throat in a halter. Don't make any mistake about me. I can shoot +straight as you." + +"Avast theer!" shouts Striker to Gomez, now calling himself De Lara, +seeing him about to draw a pistol. "Keep yer hand off that wepun! If +theer must be a fight, let it be a fair one. But, before it begin, Jack +Striker has a word to say." + +While speaking, he has stepped between the two men, staying their +encounter. + +"Yes; let the fight be a fair one!" demand several voices, as the +pirates come clustering around. + +"Look here, shipmates!" continues Striker, still standing between the +two angry men, and alternately eyeing them. "What's the use o' spillin' +blood about it--maybe killin' one the other? All for the sake o' a pair +o' petticoats, or a couple o' pairs, as it be. Take my advice, an' +settle the thing in a pacifical way. Maybe ye will, after ye've heerd +what I intend proposin'; which I daresay 'll be satisfactory to all." + +"What is it, Jack?" asks one of the outsiders. + +"First, then, I'm goin' to make the observashun, that fightin' an't the +way to get them weemen, whoever's fools enough to fight for 'em. +Theer's somethin' to be done besides." + +"Explain yourself, old Sydney! What's to be done besides?" + +"If the gals are goin' to be fought for, they've first got to be _paid_ +for." + +"How that?" + +"How? What humbuggin' stuff askin' such a questyin! Han't we all equil +shares in 'em? Coorse we hev. Tharfore, them as wants 'em, must pay +for 'em. An' they as wants 'em so bad as to do shootin' for 'em, surely +won't objek to that. Theer appear to be four candydates in the field, +an', kewrous enuf, they're set in pairs, two for each one o' the gals. +Now, 'ithout refarin' to any fightin' that's to be done--an', if they're +fools enuf to fight, let 'em--I say that eyther who eventyally gets a +gal, shed pay a considerashin o' gold-dust all roun' to the rest o' us-- +at least a pannikin apiece. That's what Jack Striker proposes first." + +"It's fair," says Slush. + +"Nothing more than our rights," observes Tarry; the Dane and the +Dutchman also endorsing the proposal. + +"I agree to it," says Harry Blew. + +"I also," adds Davis. + +De Lara--late Gomez--signifies his assent by a disdainful nod, but +without saying a word; Hernandez imitating the action. In fear of +losing adherents, neither dares disapprove of it. + +"What more have you to say, Jack?" asks Slush, recalling Striker's last +words, which seemed to promise something else. + +"Not much. Only thet I think it a pity, after our livin' so long in +harmony thegither, we can't part same way. Weemen's allers been a +bother ever since I've know'd 'em. An', I 'spose, it'll continue so to +the eend o' the chapter, an' the eend o' some lives heer. I repeet, +thet it be a pity we shed hev to wind up wi' a quarrel wheer blood's +bound to be spilt. Now, why, can't it be settled 'ithout thet? I think +I know o' a way." + +"What way?" + +"Leave it to the ladies theirselves. Gi'e them the chance o' who they'd +like for theer purtectors; same time lettin' 'em know they've got to +choose 'tween one or t'other. Let 'em take theer pick, everybody +unnerstanin' afterwards theer's to be no quarrellin', or fightin'. +That's our law in the Australyin bush, when we've cases o' the kind; an' +every bushranger hez to 'bide by it. Why shedn't it be the same heer?" + +"Why shouldn't it?" asks Slush. "It's a good law--just and fair for +all." + +"I consent to it," says Blew, with apparent reluctance, as if doubtful +of the result, yet satisfied to submit to the will of the majority. "I +mayn't be neyther so young nor so good-lookin' as Mr Gomez," he adds; +"I know I an't eyther. Still I'll take my chance. If she I lay claim +to pronounces against me, I promise to stand aside, and say ne'er +another word--much less think o' fightin' for her. She can go 'long wi' +him, an' my blessin' wi' both." + +"Bravo, Blew! You talk like a good 'un. Don't be afraid; we'll stand +by you!" + +This, from several of the outsiders. + +"Comrades!" says Davis, "I place myself in your hands. If my girl's +against me, I'm willin' to give her up, same as Blew." + +What about the other two? What answer will they make to the proposed +peaceful compromise? All eyes are turned on them, awaiting it. + +De Lara speaks first, his eyes flashing fire. Hitherto he has been +holding his anger in check, but now it breaks out, poured forth like +lava from a burning mountain. + +"_Carajo_!" he cries. "I've been listening a long time to talk--taking +it too coolly. Idle talk, all of it; yours, Mr Striker, especially. +What care we about your ways in the Australian bush. They won't hold +good here, or with me. My style of settling disputes is this, or this." +He touches his pistol-butt, and then the hilt of _machete_, hanging by +his side, adding, "Mr Blew can have his choice." + +"All right!" retorts the ex-man-o'-war's man. "I'm good for a bout with +eyther, and don't care a toss which. Pistols at six paces, or my +cutlass against that straight blade o' yours. Both if you like." + +"Both be it. That's best, and will make the end sure. Get ready, and +quick. For, sure as I stand here, I intend killing you!" + +"Say, you intend tryin'. I'm ready to give you the chance. You can +begin, soon's you feel disposed." + +"And I'm ready for _you_, sir," says Davis, confronting Hernandez. +"Knives, pistols, tomahawks--anything you like." + +Hernandez hangs back, as though he would rather decline this combat _a +outrance_. + +"No, Bill!" interposes Striker; "one fight at a time. When Blew an' +Gomez hev got through wi' theirs, then you can gi'e t'other his change-- +if so be he care to hev it." + +"T'other" appears gratified with Striker's speech, disregarding the +innuendo. He had no thought it would come to this, and now looks as if +he would surrender up his sweetheart without striking a blow. He makes +no rejoinder; but shrinks back, cowed-like and craven. + +"Yes; one fight at a time!" cry others, endorsing the dictum of Striker. + +It is the demand of the majority, and the minority concedes it. All +know it is to be a duel to the death. A glance at the antagonists--at +their angry eyes and determined attitudes--makes this sure. On that +lonely shore one of the two, if not both, will sleep his last sleep! + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN. + +A DUEL ADJOURNED. + +The combat, now declared inevitable, its preliminaries are speedily +arranged. Under the circumstances, and between such adversaries, the +punctilios of ceremony are slight. For theirs is the rough code of +honour common to robbers of all countries and climes. + +No seconds are chosen, nor spoken of. All on the ground are to act as +such; and at once proceed to business. + +Some measure off the distance, stepping it between two stones. Others +examine the pistols, to see that both are loaded with ball-cartridge, +and carefully capped. The fight is to be with Colt's six-shooters, navy +size. Each combatant chances to have one of this particular pattern. +They are to commence firing at twelve paces, and if that be ineffectual, +then close up, as either chooses. If neither fall to the shots, then to +finish with the steel. + +The captives inside the cave are ignorant of what is going on. Little +dream they of the red tragedy soon to be enacted so near, or how much +they themselves may be affected by its result. It is indeed to them the +chances of a contrasting destiny. + +The duellists take stand by the stones, twelve paces apart. Blew having +stripped off his pilot-cloth coat, is in his shirt-sleeves. These +rolled up to the elbow, expose ranges of tattooing, fouled anchors, +stars, crescents, and a woman--a perfect medley of forecastle souvenirs. +They show also muscles, lying along his arms like lanyards round a +ship's stay. Should the shots fail, those arms promise well for +wielding the cutlass; and if his fingers should clutch his antagonist's +throat, the struggle will be a short one. + +Still, no weak adversary will he meet in Francisco de Lara. He, too, +has laid aside his outer garment--thrown off his scarlet cloak, and the +heavy hat. He does not need stripping to the shirt-sleeves; his light +_jaqueta_ of velveteen in no way encumbers him. Fitting like a glove, +it displays arms of muscular strength, with a body in symmetrical +correspondence. + +A duel between two such gladiators might be painful, but for all, a +fearfully interesting spectacle. Those about to witness it seem to +think so, as they stand silent, with breath bated, and eyes alternately +on one and the other. + +As it has been arranged that Striker is to give the signal, the +ex-convict, standing centrally outside the line of fire, is about to say +a word that will set two men, mad as tigers, at one another--each with +full resolve to fire, cut down, and kill. + +There is a moment of intense stillness, like the lull which precedes a +storm. Nothing heard save the tidal wash against the near strand, the +boom of the distant breakers, and at intervals the shrill scream of a +sea-bird. + +The customary "Ready!" is forming on Striker's lips, to be followed by +the "Fire!--one--two--three!" But not one of these words--not a +syllable--is he permitted to speak. Before he can give utterance to the +first, a cry comes down from the cliff, which arrests the attention of +all; soon as understood, enchaining it. + +It is La Crosse who sends it, shouting in accent of alarm-- + +"_Mon Dieu! we're on an island_!" + +When the forest is on fire, or the savannah swept by flood, and their +wild denizens flee to a spot uninvaded, the timid deer is safe beside +the fierce wolf or treacherous cougar. In face of the common danger +they will stand trembling together--the beasts of prey for the time +gentle as their victims. + +So with human kind; a case parallel, and in point, furnished by the crew +of the _Condor_ with their captives. + +The pirates, on hearing the cry of La Crosse, are at first only +startled. But soon their surprise becomes apprehension; keen enough to +stay the threatening fight, and indefinitely postpone it. For at the +words "We're on an island!" they are impressed with an instinctive sense +of danger; and all, intending combatants as spectators, rush up the +ravine, to the summit of the cliff, where La Crosse is still standing. + +Arrived there, and casting their eyes inland, they have evidence of the +truth of his statement. A strait, leagues in width, separates them from +the mainland. Far too wide to be crossed by the strongest swimmer +amongst them--too wide for them to be descried from the opposite side, +even through a telescope! And the inland is a mere strip of sea-washed +rock, running parallel to the coast, cliff-bound, table-topped, sterile, +treeless--and, to all appearance, waterless! + +As this last thought comes uppermost--along with the recollection that +their boat is gone--what was at first only a flurry of excited +apprehension, becomes a fixed fear. + +Still further intensified, when after scattering over the islet, and +exploring it from end to end, they again come together, and each party +delivers its report. No wood save some stunted bushes; no water-- +stream, pond, or spring; only that of the salt sea rippling around; no +sign of animal life, except snakes, scorpions, and lizards, with the +birds flying above--screaming as if in triumph at the intruders upon +their domain being thus entrapped! + +For they are so, and clearly comprehend it. Most of them are men who +have professionally followed the sea, and understand what it is to be +"castaways." Some have had actual experience of it, and need no +reminding of its dangers. To a man, they feel their safety as much +compromised, as if the spot of earth under their feet, instead of being +but three leagues from land--were three thousand--for that matter in the +middle of the Pacific. + +What would they not now give to be again on board the barque sent +sailing thither to miserably perish? Ah! their cruelty has come back +upon them like a curse. + +The interrupted duel--what of it? Nothing. It is not likely ever to be +fought. Between the _ci-devant_ combatants, mad anger and jealous +rivalry may still remain. But neither shows it now; both subdued, in +contemplation of the common peril. + +Blew, to all appearance, is less affected than his antagonist; but all +are cowed--awed by a combination of occurrences, that look as though an +avenging angel had been sent to punish them. + +From that moment Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez will be safe in their +midst, as if promenading the streets of Cadiz, or flirting their fans at +a _funcion de toros_. + +Safe, as far as being molested by the ruffians around them. Yet, alas! +exposed to the danger overhanging all--death from starvation. + +A fearful fate threatens the late crew of the Chilian barque, in horror +equalling that to which those left aboard of her have been consigned. +Well may they deem it a retribution--that God's hand is upon them, +meting out a punishment apportioned to their crime! + +But surely He will not permit the innocent to suffer with the guilty? +Let us hope--pray, He will not. + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT. + +LONG-SUFFERING. + +"_Virgen Santissima_! Mother of God, have mercy!" + +The cry is heard in the cabin of the _Condor_--Don Gregorio Montijo +giving utterance to it. + +Several days have elapsed since the desertion of her crew, and she is +still afloat, drifting in a south-westerly direction, with all sail set, +just as when the pirates put away from her. + +Why she has not gone to the bottom is known but to two men--they +entrusted with the scuttling. + +And just as when left, are the three unfortunate beings aboard: the +black cook on his galley bench, the captain and his passenger +_vis-a-vis_ at the cabin-table, bound to and bolt upright in their +chairs. + +But though the attitudes of all three are unchanged, there is a marked +change in their appearance, especially of those in the cabin. For the +white man shown the effects of physical suffering sooner than the +Ethiopian. + +For over five days Don Gregorio and Lantanas have been enduring agony +great as ever tortured Tantalus. It has made fearful inroad on their +strength--on their frames. Both are reduced almost to skeletons; +cheekbones protruding, eyes sunken in their sockets. Were the cords +that confine them suddenly taken off, they would sink helpless on the +floor! + +Not all this time have they been silent. At intervals they had +conversed upon their desperate situation. For the first day, with some +lingering hope of being released; but afterwards despairingly, as the +hours passed and nothing occurred to change it. + +Now and then they have heard cries on deck; knowing they are from the +cook; whom they now believe to be, as themselves, bound up somewhere in +the forward part of the vessel. + +At first they made some attempt to communicate with him, by answering +them; but found it an idle effort. He may have heard, but could not +help them. And now their feeble strength forbids even such exertion of +their voices. + +Long since have the two men given up all hope of being able to untie the +cords keeping them to their chairs. The knots made by the hands of a +sailor would defy the efforts of the most skilled _presti-digitateur_. + +And at length also have they ceased to converse, or only at periods long +apart. Lantanas, after his first throes of fierce rage, has sunk into a +sort of stupor, and, with head drooping down to his breast, appears as +if life had left him. + +Don Gregorio, on the contrary, holds his erect--at least during most +part of the day. For before him is something to be seen--the sea +through the stern windows, still open. + +On this he keeps his eyes bent habitually; though not with much hope of +their seeing aught to cheer him. On its blue expanse he beholds but a +streak of white, the frothing water in the vessel's wake, now and then a +"school" of tumbling porpoises, or the "spout" of a cachalot whale. + +Once, however, an object came within his field of vision, which caused +him to start, writhe in his ropes, and cry out to the utmost of his +strength. For it was a ship in full sail crossing the _Condor's_ track, +and scarce a cable's length astern! + +He heard a hail and called out in response, Lantanas joining him. + +And the two kept on shouting for hours after, till their feeble voices +failed them; and they again resigned themselves to a despondency, +hopeless as ever. + +All their shouts have ever brought them were the Bornean apes, that they +often hear scampering up and down the cabin-stair, dashing their uncouth +bodies against the closed door. + +The Chilian has now quite surrendered to despair; while Don Gregorio, +who had also lost hope of help from man, still has faith in Heaven. +Hence the prayerful appeal; which with unabated fervour he once more +sends up:-- + +"_Virgen Santissima_! Mother of God, have mercy!" + +All at once Lantanas, catching the words, and raising his head, cries +out: + +"Virgin! Hach! There's no virgin!--No mother of God, nor God neither!" + +"Captain Lantanas!" + +"Don't captain me! I'm not a captain. I'm a poor miserable creature-- +starving with hunger--dying of thirst. Merciful Virgin, indeed! +Where's her mercy? If she has it, let her show. Let her find me food +and drink. Cakes and fruit there! Nothing of the sort. Stones, +painted stones! And those other things! Bottles they call them-- +bottles and decanters. All a deception. They're imps--some demigods! +See how they dance. Let's join them! Come, old Zanzibar! Bring your +fiddle! And my Bornean beauties, come you. We'll have a grand +_fandango_. We'll make a dancing room of the _Condor's_ deck, and kick +up our heels high as the cuddy head. That's the way we'll do it. Ha-- +ha--ha! Ha--ha--ha!" + +"O God!" groans Don Gregorio, "Lantanas has lost his reason!" + + + +CHAPTER SIXTY NINE. + +HELP FROM HEAVEN. + +For long, the Chilian skipper continues to rave, rolling his eyes about, +now and then glaring fiercely at Don Gregorio, as though he wished to +stretch across the table and tear him. Fortunate he is confined now. + +At first the ex-haciendado spoke kindly, endeavouring to soothe him; but +seeing it idle, he has ceased; and now makes no further attempt. + +To converse with him would be only painful, and indeed the sight is +sufficiently so, suggesting to Don Gregorio what may be his own fate. +At times he almost fancies himself the same, as sweeps through his soul +the thought of his accumulated calamities. + +He wishes that death would relieve him, and has prayed for it more than +once. He prays for it again, silently, with his eyes resting on the +sea. He awaits the final hour, longing for it to come, his features set +in calm, Christian resignation. + +Suddenly their expression changes, a ray of renewed hope shooting +athwart his face. Not a ray, but a beam, which spreads over his whole +countenance, while his eyes kindle into cheerfulness, and his lips +become parted in a smile! + +Is he about to echo the mad laugh of Lantanas? + +No! In that look there is no sign of unseated reason. + +On the contrary, he gazes with intelligent earnestness, as at something +outside demanding investigation. + +Soon his lips part farther, not now to smile, but speak words that +involuntarily issue from them. Only two little words, but of large +import and greatest cheer: + +"A sail!" + +For such he has espied; a white speck away off on the line that +separates the two blues, but distinguishable from waif of floating foam +or wing of gull. Beyond doubt, a sail--a ship! + +Once more, hope is in his heart, which bounding up, beats audibly within +his breast. + +Higher and louder, as the white speck shows larger, and assumes shape. +For the tall narrow disc, rising tower-like against the sky, can only be +the spread canvas of a ship. + +And gradually growing taller, he at length sees she is standing towards +the barque! + +Intently he continues to watch the distant sail! Silently, without +saying aught of it to his companion, or in any way communicating with +him. It would be of no use; the mind of the Chilian is closed against +outward impressions, and now is not the time to attempt opening it. + +Hopefully, Don Gregorio continues gazing, but not without anxiety. Once +before he has had disappointment from a similar sight. It may be so +again. + +But, no; that ship was standing across the _Condor's_ track, while this +is sailing in the same course--sailing after, apparently, with the +intention to come up; and though slowly, surely drawing nearer; as he +can tell by her canvas increasing in the bulk, growing broader and +rising higher upon the horizon. + +A long time elapses--nearly half-a-day--during which he has many hopes +and fears, alternating as the hours pass. + +But the hopes are at length in the ascendant, and all anxiety passes as +the pursuing ship shows her dark hull above the water-line, and he can +distinguish her separate sails. They are all set. What joy in his +heart as his eyes rest on them! They seem the wings of merciful angels, +coming to relieve him from his misery! + +And the flag floating above--the flag of England! Were it the banner of +his own Spain, he could not regard it with greater gladness, or +gratitude. For surely he will be saved now? + +Alas! while thus congratulating himself, he sees what causes his heart +again to go down within him, bringing back keenest apprehensions. The +strange vessel is still a far distance off, and the breeze impelling +her, light all along, has suddenly died down--not a ripple showing on +the sea's surface--while her sails now hang loose and limp. Beyond +doubt is she becalmed. + +But the _Condor_! Will she, too, cease sailing? + +Yes; she must, from the same cause. Already she moves slowly, scarce +making way. And now--now she is motionless! He can tell it, by the +glass rack and lamps overhead, that hang without the slightest +oscillation. Anon, the barque gradually swings round, and he loses +sight of the ship. Through the windows he still beholds the sea, calm +and blue, but vacant; no outline of hull--no expanded sail--no flouting +flag to keep up his heart, which is once more almost despondent. + +But only for a short time; again rising as the barque, sheering round, +brings once more her stern towards the ship, and he sees the latter, and +something besides--a boat! + +It is down in the water, and coming on toward the _Condor_, the +oar-blades flashing in the sun and flinging spray-drops that seem like +silver stars! + +The barque swinging round, he has the boat in view but a short while. +What matters it now? He is certain of being saved! + +And he looks no longer--only listens. + +Soon to hear words spoken in a strong manly voice, to him sweeter than +music. It is the hail: + +"Barque ahoy!" + +In feeble accents he makes answer, and continues to call out, till other +voices, echoing along the _Condor's_ decks, become commingled with his +own. + +Then there are footsteps on the quarterdeck, soon after heard descending +the cabin-stair. + +The handle is turned, the door pushed open, and a swish of fresh air +sweeps in, men along with it; as they enter, giving utterance to wild +exclamations. + +Wrenching his neck around, he sees there are two of them, both in the +uniform of naval officers, and both known to him! + +Their presence causes him strange emotions, and many--too many for his +strength so long and sorely tried. + +Overpowered by the sight, he becomes unconscious, as though instead of +gladdening, it had suddenly deprived him of life! + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY. + +CONJECTURES TOO TRUE. + +No need to say that the two officers who have entered the _Condor's_ +cabin are Crozier and Cadwallader. For she is the polacca-barque chased +by a frigate, and that frigate the _Crusader_. + +The cry simultaneously raised by them is one of strange intonation, +telling less of surprise, than conjecture too fatally confirmed. + +While in chase of the barque, and her national colours were first made +out, they had no thought of connecting her with the vessel which Don +Gregorio Montijo had chartered to take him to Panama. True, they had +heard that this was a Chilian vessel, and her skipper of that nation. +But they had also been told she was a _ship_, not a _barque_. And as +among the many craft in San Francisco Bay, neither had noticed her, how +would they think of identifying her with the chased polacca. + +Gradually, however, as the frigate drew upon her, certain suspicions of +a painful nature began to shape themselves in Crozier's mind; still so +vague he did not deem it worth while communicating them to Cadwallader. +He remembered having seen a _polacca-masted_ vessel in the harbour of +San Francisco; besides, that she was a _ship_. And so far as his +recollection served, she was of the same size as that running before the +frigate. Besides, he could distinctly recall the fact of her flying +Chilian colours. The peculiar style of her masting had drawn his +attention to her. + +And while they were still pursuing the barque, and commenting on the +coincident statement of the brig and whaler about men having been aboard +of her _covered with red hair_, Crozier also recalled a statement +strangely significant, which Harry Blew had made to one of the men who +had rowed Cadwallader ashore, on the day the _Crusader_ sailed. Blew +had been aboard the Chilian vessel, and being asked by his old shipmate +what sort of crew she had, laughingly replied: "Only a _black_ man, and +two _red_ ones." Pressed for an explanation about the red ones, he said +they were a couple of _orang-outangs_. + +Putting these odd _data_ together, and comparing them, the _Crusader's_ +third lieutenant began to have an uneasy feeling, as they followed the +retreating vessel. That she was a barque, and not a ship, meant +nothing. As a seaman, he knew how easy the conversion--how often made. + +When at length both vessels lay becalmed, and an order for boarding was +given, he had solicited the command--by a private word to the frigate's +captain, as had Cadwallader the leave to accompany him; the latter +actuated by impulses not very dissimilar. + +When both at length climbed the barque's sides, saw the red monkeys on +deck, and the black man in the galley, their apprehension became +sharpened to the keenest foreboding--far more than a presentiment of +misfortune. + +Alas! as they entered the _Condor's_ cabin, beholding its fulfilment. + +The cry that escaped their lips came on the recognition of Don Gregorio +Montijo; followed by other exclamations, as they looked at the two +unoccupied chairs, a fan upon the one, a scarf over the back of the +other. It was then that Crozier rushing upon deck, sent the cutter off +for the surgeon, himself instantly returning to the cabin. + +Still wilder--almost a wail--is the shout simultaneously raised by the +young officers, when, after dashing open the state-room doors, they look +in and see all empty! + +They turn to those at the table, asking information--entreating it: one +answers with a strange Bedlamite laugh; the other not at all. It is Don +Gregorio who is silent. They see that his head is hanging over. He +appears insensible. + +"Great God! is he dead?" + +They glide towards him, grasp table-knives, and cut the cords that have +been confining him. Senseless, he sinks into their arms. + +But he is not dead; only in a faint. Though feebly, his pulse still +beats! + +With wine they wet his lips--the wine so long standing untasted! They +open his mouth, and pour some of it down his throat, then stand over him +to await the effect. + +Soon his pulse grows stronger, and his eyes sparkle with the light of +reviving life. + +Laid gently along the sofa, he is at length restored to consciousness; +with sufficient strength to answer the questions eagerly put to him. +There are two, simultaneously asked, almost echoes of one another. + +"Where is Carmen? Where is Inez?" + +"Gone!" he gasps out. "Carried away by the--" + +He does not finish the speech. His breath fails him, and he seems +relapsing into the syncope from which he has been aroused. Fearing +this, they question him no farther, but continue to administer +restoratives. They give him more wine, making him also eat of the +fruits found upon the table. + +They have also set the skipper free; but soon see cause to regret it. +He strides to and fro, flings his arms about in frenzied gesture, +clutches at decanters, glasses, bottles, and breaks them against one +another, or dashes them down upon the floor. He needs restraining, and +they do that, by shutting him up in a state-room. + +Returning to Don Gregorio, they continue to nurse him; all the while +wishing the surgeon to come. + +While impatiently waiting they hear a hail from the top of the +cabin-stairs. It is their coxswain, who shouts:-- + +"Below there!" + +He is about to announce the cutter's return from the frigate. + +Ah no! It is not that; but something different; which instead of +gratifying, gives them a fresh spasm of pain. Listening, they hear him +say:-- + +"Come on deck, Mr Crozier! There's a bank o' black fog rollin' up. +It's already close on the barque's starboard bow. It look like there's +mischief in't; and I believe there be. For God's sake, hurry up, sir!" + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE. + +A STRUGGLE WITH THE STORM. + +The summons of the coxswain is too serious to be disregarded; and soon +as hearing it, the two officers hasten upon deck, leaving Don Gregorio +reclining along the settee. + +Glancing over the barque's starboard bow, they behold a sky black as +Erebus. It is a fog-bank, covering several points of the compass. But +while they stand regarding it, it lengthens along the horizon, at the +same time rising higher against the heavens. They can see that it is +approaching, spreading over the ocean like a pall. And, where it +shadows the water, white flakes show themselves, which they know to be +froth churned up by the sharp stroke of a wind-squall. + +They do not stand idly gazing. All three recognise the threatening +danger. They only cast a glance towards the frigate, and, perceiving +they can hope for no help from her, at once commence taking measures for +themselves. "To the sheets!" shouts Crozier. "Let fly all!" + +At the command, the midshipman and coxswain bound off to execute it, the +lieutenant himself assisting; since there are but the three to do the +work. For the negro, released by Grummet, despite half a pint of rum +poured down his throat, is scarcely able to keep his feet. No help, +therefore, to be had from him, nor any one else. + +But the three strong men, with confidence in their strength, and with +knowledge to comprehend the approaching peril, take the proper steps to +avert it--these being, as Crozier has commanded, to let go everything. + +Working as if for life, they cast off sheets and halyards, and let the +canvas flap free. No time for clewing up, or making snug: no thought of +either. The sails must take their chance, though they get split into +shreds, which they are pretty sure to do. + +This actually occurs, and soon. Scarce has her canvas been released +from its sheets and tacks, when the barque becomes enveloped in a dense +cloud, and the wind strikes like a cannon shot against her sails. +Luckily, they were loosed in time. If still stiff set, the masts would +have gone by the board, or the _Condor_ on her beam-ends. And luckily, +too, before struck, Grummet had hold of her helm, and, by Crozier's +command, brought her before the wind. To attempt "lying to," with her +sails in such condition, would be to court destruction. To "scud" is +their only chance for safety. + +And away go they before the wind, which, first blowing in fitful gusts, +soon becomes a steady gale, with now and then a violent burst catching +still another sail, and rending it to ribbons. + +Soon there is not a sound one, and scarce aught save strips of torn +canvas hanging from the yards, or streaming out like the flags on a +signal-staff. + +Fortunately the barque well obeys her helm, and the young officers +contrive to set storm-stay and trysail, thus helping to hold her steady. + +During all this time they have not thought of the frigate. Absorbed in +the endeavour to save the craft that carries them, they reflect not on +what may be their fate should they get separated from their own ship. + +At length, this reflection arises in a form to appal them. The frigate +is out of sight--has been ever since the commencement of the gale, the +fog having drifted between. They do not now know the direction in which +she is; nor can they tell whether she has lain-to, or, like themselves, +"run." If the latter, there is a hope she will follow the same course; +and, the fog lifting, be again sighted. + +Alas! it is more likely she will do the former. Full-manned, she will +have taken in sail in good time, and made all snug, so as to ride out +the storm; and, aware of the danger in which they on the barque will be +placed, she will not forsake the spot, but assuredly lie to. + +Just as they have arrived at this conclusion, they hear a gun booming +above the blast. They know it is from the frigate, firing to let them +know her whereabouts. But, although the sound reaches them with +sufficient distinctness, they cannot tell the direction. Who could at +sea, in a fog? + +Listening, they hear it a second time, and soon after a third. + +Then again and again; still distinct, but with the same uncertainty as +to its direction. For the life of them they cannot determine the point +of the compass whence it comes. Even if they knew, it is a question +whether they dare set the barque's head towards it, for the storm has +increased to a tempest, and it is touch and go for them to keep the +Chilian vessel afloat. Out of trim, she is tossed from wave to wave, +shipping seas that threaten to engulf her, or wash everybody overboard. + +In this struggle--as it were, for life and death--they lose all hope of +being able to keep company with the warship--all thought of it. It will +be well if they can but save that they are on from going to the bottom +of the sea. + +Again they hear the firing, several times repeated--that signal that +they are unable to answer, or unable to avail themselves of its friendly +warning. Situated as they are, it seems sounding a farewell salute--or +it may be their death knell. + +Fainter and fainter falls the boom upon their ears; duller and duller at +each successive detonation, which tells that the distance between them +and the frigate, instead of diminishing, increases. However sad and +disheartening, they cannot help it. They dare not put the barque about, +or in any way alter her course. They must keep scudding on, though they +may never see the _Crusader_ again. + +At length, no longer do they hear the signal-guns. Whether from greater +distance, or louder vociferation of the tempest, they can no more be +distinguished amidst its voices. + +Throughout all the night the barque scuds, storm-buffeted, shipping huge +seas, yet casting them off, and still keeping afloat. Notwithstanding +her distressed condition, she rides the gale through to its termination. + +As the morning sun gleams over the ocean, along with the subsiding wind, +the fog also lifts, leaving both sea and sky clear. And still the +_Condor_ is afloat, rolling from beam to beam; her tall smooth masts as +yet in her, her rigging aright, and her bulwarks unbroken. Only the +sails have suffered, and they are all gone. + +Grummet is at the wheel, guiding her wayward course; while the two +officers stand upon her quarterdeck, with eyes bent abroad, scanning the +crests of the big billows that go rumbling along. + +But there is no _Crusader_ in sight--no frigate--no ship of any kind-- +nothing but the wide, fathomless ocean! + +They are alone upon it, hundreds of leagues from land, aboard a craft +they may not be able to manage; and all the more difficult with her +sails in shreds. But even were these sound, they have not the strength +to set them. They are helpless; but little better off than if they were +in an open boat! + +In very truth, are they in peril! + +But they do not dwell upon it now. A thought still more afflicting is +before their minds; and, casting another glance over the ocean-- +unrewarded as ever--they descend into the cabin, to obtain some +particulars of that which has saddened, almost maddened them. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO. + +A CARD RECOVERED. + +It is the fourth day since the English officers boarded the Chilian +barque. They are still on board of her, and she still afloat--the one a +sequence of the other; or, she would now be at the bottom of the sea. A +tough struggle they have had of it; only the three to manage so large a +craft in a tempest which, though short-lived, was fierce as ever swept +over the Pacific. And with no aid from any of the other three. Captain +Lantanas is still delirious, locked up in his state-room, lest, in his +violence, he may do some harm; while Don Gregorio, weak as a child, +reclines on the cabin settee, unable to go upon deck. The negro alone, +having partially recovered strength, lends some assistance. + +The barque's sails still hang tattered from the spars, for they have +since encountered other winds, and had neither the time nor strength to +clear them. But they have contrived to patch up the foresail, and bend +on a new jib from some spare canvas found in the stores. With these she +is making way at the rate of some five or six knots to the hour, her +head East and by South. It is twelve o'clock mid-day, and Grummet is at +the wheel; the officers on the quarter; Crozier, sextant in hand, +"shooting the sun." They have long since given up hope of finding the +frigate, or being found by her at sea. + +Aware of this, they are steering the crippled vessel towards Panama in +hope of their coming across her. In any case, that is the port where +they will be most likely to get tidings of her. + +A prey to saddened thoughts are the two young officers, as they stand on +the quarterdeck of the Chilian vessel taking the altitude of the sun, +with instruments her own skipper is no longer able to use. Fortunately, +these had not been carried off, else there would be but little +likelihood of their making Panama. + +At best, they will reach it with broken hearts; for they have now heard +the whole story in all its dark details, so far as Don Gregorio could +give them. + +Having already determined their longitude by the barque's chronometer, +they have kept it by log-reckoning, and their present observation is but +to confirm them in the latitude. + +"Starboard your helm!" shouts Crozier to Grummet. "Give her another +point to port. Keep her east-by-south. Steady!" + +Then turning to Cadwallader, he says: + +"If all goes well, we shall make Panama in less than two days. We might +do it in one, if we could but set sail enough. Anyhow, I think old +Bracebridge will stay for us at least a week. Ah! I wish that were all +we had to trouble us. To think they're gone--lost to us--for ever!" + +"Don't say that, Ned. There's still a hope we may find them." + +"And found, what then! You needn't answer. Will; I don't wish you to +speak of it. I daren't trust myself to think of it. Carmen Montijo--my +betrothed--captive to a crew of pirate cut-throats--oh!" + +Cadwallader is silent. He suffers the same agony thinking of Inez. + +For a time the picture remains before their minds, dark as their +gloomiest fancies can make it. Then across it shoot some rays of hope, +saddened, but sweet, for they are thoughts of vengeance. Cadwallader +first gives expression to it. + +"Whatever has happened to the girls, we shall go after them anyhow. And +the robbers, we _must_ find them." + +"Find, and punish them," adds Crozier. "That we surely shall. If it +costs all my money, all the days of my life, I'll revenge the wrongs of +Carmen Montijo." + +"And I those of Inez Alvarez." + +For a while they stand silently brooding upon that which has brought +such black shadow over their hearts. Then Cadwallader says: + +"The scoundrels must have plotted it all before leaving San Francisco; +and shipped aboard the Chilian vessel for the express purpose of getting +this gold. That's Don Gregorio's idea of it, borne out by what he heard +from that one of them he knew there--Rocas the name, he says." + +"It seems probable--indeed certain," rejoins Crozier. "Though it don't +much matter how, or when, they planned the damnable deed. Enough that +they've done it. But to think of Harry Blew turning traitor, and taking +part with them! That is to me the strangest thing of all, frightfully, +painfully, strange." + +"But do you believe he _has_ acted in such a manner?" + +"How can one help believing it? What Don Gregorio heard leaves no +alternative. He went off in the boat along with the rest; besides +saying words which prove he went willingly. Only to think of such black +ingratitude! Cadwallader, I'd as soon have thought of suspecting +yourself!" + +"His conduct, certainly, seems incredible. I believed Blew to be a +thoroughly honest fellow. No doubt the gold corrupted him; as it has +many a better man. But let's think no more about it; only hope we may +some day lay hands on him." + +"Ah! if I ever do that. With my arms around him, I once saved his +worthless life. Let me but get him in my embrace again, and he'll have +a hug that'll squeeze the last breath out of his body!" + +"The chance may come yet, and with the whole scoundrelly crew. What +brutes they must have been! According to Don Gregorio's account, they +were of all nations, and the worst sort of each. The negro says the +same. Among them four that spoke Spanish, and appeared to be Spaniards, +or Spanish-Americans. Suppose we pay a visit to the forecastle, and see +if we can find any record of their names. It might be of use +hereafter." + +"By all means!" asserts the lieutenant; "let us." They proceed towards +the fore-deck in silence, their countenances showing a nervous +apprehension. For there is a thought in their hearts, which neither has +yet made known to the other--blacker, and more bitter, than even the +thought of Harry Blew's treason. + +Unspoken, they carry it into the forecastle; but they are not many +minutes there, before seeing what brings it out, without either saying a +word. + +A bunk--the most conspicuous of the two tiers--is explored first. They +turn out of it papers of various sorts: some letters, several numbers of +an old newspaper, and a pack of Spanish playing-cards--all pictured. +But among them is one of a different sort--a white one, with a name +printed upon it. + +A visiting card--but whose? + +As Crozier picks it up, and reads the name, his blood curdles, the hair +crisping on his head: + +"Mr Edward Crozier; H.B.M. Frigate Crusader." + +His own! + +He does not need to be told how the card came there. Too well remembers +he when, where, and to whom he gave it--to Don Francisco De Lara on the +day of their encounter. + +Thrusting it into his pocket, he clutches at the letters, and looks at +their superscription--"_Don Francisco de Lara_!" + +Opening, he rapidly reads them one after another. His hands holding +them shake as with a palsy; while in his eyes there is a look of keenest +apprehension. For he fears that, subscribed to some, he will find +another name--that of Carmen Montijo! If so, farewell to all faith in +human kind. Harry Blew's ingratitude has destroyed his belief in man. +A letter from the daughter of Don Gregorio Montijo to the gambler Frank +Lara, will alike wither his confidence in woman. + +With eager eyes, and lips compressed, he continues the perusal of the +letters. They are from many correspondents, and relate to various +matters, most about money and _monte_, signed "Faustino Calderon." + +As the last of them slips through his fingers, he breathes freely, but +with a sigh of self-reproach for having doubted the woman who was to +have been his wife. + +Turning to Cadwallader--as himself aware of all--he says, in solemn +emphasis: + +"_Now we know_!" + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE. + +THE LAST LEAF IN THE LOG. + +No common pirates then, no mere crew of mutinous sailors, have carried +off Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez. It has been done by Francisco de +Lara and Faustino Calderon, if or although there is no evidence of the +latter having been aboard the barque, it is deducible, and not even +doubtful. For a scheme such as that, the confederates were not likely +to have parted. + +The young officers have returned to the quarterdeck, and there stand +gazing in one another's faces; on both an expression of anguish, which +the new discovery has intensified. It was painful enough to think of +their betrothed sweethearts being the sport of rough robbers; but to +picture them in the power of De Lara and Calderon--knowing what they do +of these men--is agony itself. + +"Yes; it's all clear," says Crozier. "No idea of getting gold has +brought the thing about. That may have influenced the others who +assisted them; but with them the motive was different--I see it now." + +"Do you know, Ned, I half suspected it from the first. You remember +what I said as we were leaving San Francisco. After what happened +between us and the gamblers, I had my fears about our girls being left +in the same place with them. Still, who'd have thought of their +following them aboard ship? Above all, with Blew there, and after his +promise to protect them! You remember him saying, he would lay down his +life for theirs?" + +"He swore it--to me he swore it. Oh! if ever I set eyes on him again, +I'll make him suffer for that broken oath!" + +"What do you propose doing, after we reach Panama? If we find the +frigate there, we'll be obliged to join her." + +"Obliged! there's no obligation to bind a man situated as I--reckless as +this misery makes me. Unless Captain Bracebridge consents to assist us +in the search, I'll go alone." + +"Not alone. There's one will be with you." + +"I know it, Will. Of course, I count upon you. What I mean is, if +Bracebridge won't help us with the frigate. I'll throw up my +commission, charter a vessel myself, engage a crew, and search every +inch of the American coast, till I find where they've put in." + +"What a pity we can't tell the place! They must have been near land to +have taken to an open boat." + +"In sight of--close to it, I've been questioning Don Gregorio. He knows +that much and but little beside. The poor gentleman is almost as crazed +as the skipper. I wonder he's not more. He says they had sighted land +that very morning, the first they saw since leaving California. The +captain told them they would be in Panama in about two days after. As +the boat was being rowed away, Don Gregorio saw a coast-line through the +cabin windows, and not far-off. He saw their boat too, and they +appeared making straight for it. Of course they--. That's all I can +get out of the poor old gentleman, at present." + +"The negro? Can he tell no better story?" + +"I've questioned him too. He is equally sure of their having been close +in. What point, he has no idea, any more than the orangs. However, he +states a particular fact, which is more satisfactory. A short while +before they seized hold of him, he was looking over the side, and saw a +strangely shaped hill--a mountain. He describes it as having two tops. +The moon was between them, the reason for his taking notice of it. That +double-headed hill may yet stand us in stead." + +"How unfortunate the skipper losing his senses! If he'd have kept them, +he could have told us where he was at the time the barque was abandoned. +It's enough to make one think the very Fates are against us. By the +way, we've never thought of looking at the log-book. That ought to +throw some light on the locality." + +"It ought; and doubtless would, if we only had it. You're mistaken in +saying we never thought of it. I have; and been searching for it +everywhere. But it's gone; and what's become of it, I know not. They +may have thrown it overboard before forsaking the ship--possibly to blot +out all traces. Still, it's odd too, De Lara leaving these letters +behind!" + +"And the barque under all sail." + +"Well, I take it, they were hurried, and of course expected she'd soon +go to the bottom. Strange she didn't. No doubt she's met only smooth +weather till we came aboard her." + +"I wonder where her log-book can be?" + +"Not more than I. The old darkey says it used to lie on a little shelf +at the turning of the cabin-stair. I've looked there, but no log-book. +As you say, it's enough to make one believe the Fates were against us. +If so, we may never reach Panama, much less live to--" + +"See," cries Cadwallader, interrupting the despairing speech. "Those +brutes! what's that they're knocking about? By Jove! I believe it's +the very thing we're speaking of!" + +The brutes are the Myas monkeys, that, away in the ship's waist, are +tossing something between them; apparently a large book bound in rough +red leather. They have mutilated the binding, and, with teeth and +claws, are tearing out the leaves, as they strive to take it from one +another. + +"It is--it must be the log-book!" cries Crozier, as both rush off to +rescue it from the clutch of the orangs. + +They succeed; but not without difficulty, and a free handling of +handspikes--almost braining the apes before they consent to relinquish +it. + +It is at length recovered, though in a ruinous condition; fortunately, +however, with the written leaves untorn. Upon the last of these is an +entry, evidently the latest made: + +"Latitude 7 degrees 20 minutes North; Longitude 82 degrees 12 minutes +West. Light breeze." + +"Good!" exclaims Crozier, rushing back to the quarterdeck, and bending +over the chart. "With this, and the double-headed hill, we may get upon +the track of the despoilers. Just when we were despairing! Will, old +boy; there's something in this. I have a presentiment that things are +taking a turn, and the _Fates will yet be or us_." + +"God grant they may!" + +"Ah?" sighs Crozier: "if we had but ten men aboard this barque--or even +six--I'd never think of going on to Panama, but steer straight for the +island of Coiba." + +"Why the island of Coiba?" wonderingly asks Cadwallader. + +"Because it must have been in sight when this entry was made--either it +or Hicaron, which lies on its sou'west side. Look at this chart; there +they are!" + +The midshipman bends over the map, and scans it. + +"You're right, Ned. They must have seen one or other of those islands, +when the Chilian skipper made his last observation." + +"Just so. And with a light breeze she couldn't have made much way +after. Both the cook and Don Gregorio say it was that. Oh! for ten +good hands. A thousand pounds apiece for ten stout, trusty fellows! +What a pity in that squall the cutter's crew weren't left along with +us." + +"Never fear, Ned. We'll get them again, or as good. Old Bracebridge +won't fail us, I'm sure. He's a dear old soul, and when he hears the +tale we've to tell, it'll be all right. If he can't himself come with +the frigate, he'll allow us men to man this barque; enough to make short +work with her late crew, if we can once stand face to face with them. I +only wish we were in Panama." + +"I'd rather we were off Coiba; or on shore wherever the ruffians have +landed." + +"Not as we now are--three against twelve!" + +"I don't care for that. I'd give ten thousand pounds to be in their +midst--even alone." + +"Ned, you'll never be there alone; wherever you go, I go with you. We +have a common cause, and shall stand or fall together." + +"That we shall. God bless you, Will Cadwallader! I feel you're worthy +of the friendship--the trust I've placed in you. And now, let's talk no +more about it; but bend on all the sail we can, and get to Panama. +After that, we'll steer for the island of Coiba. We're so far +fortunate, in having this westerly wind," he continues, in a more +cheerful tone. "If it keep in the same quarter, we'll soon come in +sight of land. And if this Chilian chart may be depended on, that +should be a promontory on the west side of Panama Bay. I hope the +chart's a true one; for Punta Malo, an its name imports, isn't a nice +place to make mistakes about. By running too close to it with the wind +in this quarter--" + +"_Steamer to norrard_!" cries a rough voice, interrupting. It is +Grummet's. + +The young officers, turning with a start, see the same. + +Crozier, laying hold of a telescope, raises it to his eye, while he +holds it there, saying: + +"You're right, cox: it is a steamer. And standing this way! She'll run +right across our bows. Up helm, and set the barque's head on for her!" + +The coxswain obeys; and with a few turns of the wheel brings the +_Condor's_ head round, till she is right to meet the steamer. The +officers, with the negro assisting, loose tacks and sheets, trimming her +sails for the changed course. + +Soon the two vessels, going in almost opposite directions, lessen the +distance between. And as they mutually make approach, each speculates +on the character of the other. They on board the barque have little +difficulty in determining that of the steamer. At a glance they see she +is not a warship; but a passenger packet. And as there are no others in +that part of the Pacific, she can be only one of the "liners" late +established between San Francisco and Panama; coming down from the +former port, her destination the latter. + +Not so easy for those aboard the steamship to make out the manner of the +odd-looking craft that has turned up in their track, and is sailing +straight towards them. They see a barque, polacca-masted, with some +sails set, and others hanging in shreds from her yards. + +This of itself would be enough to excite curiosity. But there is +something besides; a flag reversed flying at her mainmast-head--the flag +of Chili! For the distress signal has not been taken down. And why it +was ever run up, or by whom, none of those now in the barque could tell. +At present it serves _their_ purpose well, for, responding to it, the +commander of the steam packet orders her engines to slow, and then cease +action; till the huge leviathan, late running at the rate of twelve +knots an hour, gradually lessens speed, and at length lies motionless +upon the water. + +Simultaneously the barque is "hove to," and she lies at less than a +cable's length from the steamer. + +From the latter the hail is heard first: + +"Barque ahoy! What barque is that?" + +"The _Condor_--Valparaiso. In distress." + +"Send a boat aboard!" + +"Not strength to man it." + +"Wait, then! We'll board you." + +In less than five minutes' time one of the quarter boats of the liner is +lowered down, and a crew leaps into it. + +Pushing off from her side, it soon touches that of the vessel in +distress. + +But not for its crew to board her. Crozier has already traced out his +course of action. Slipping down into the steamer's boat, he makes +request to be rowed to the ship; which is done without questioning. The +uniform he wears entitles him to respect. + +Stepping aboard the steamship, he sees that she is what he has taken her +for: a line-packet from San Francisco, bound for Panama. She is crowded +with passengers; at least a thousand seen upon her decks. They are of +all qualities and kinds; all colours and nationalities; most of them +Californian gold-diggers returning to their homes; some successful and +cheerful; others downcast and disappointed. + +He is not long in telling his tale; first to the commander of the +steamer and his officers; then to the passengers. + +For to these last he particularly addresses himself, in an appeal--a +call for volunteers--not alone to assist in navigating the barque, but +to proceed with him in pursuit of the scoundrels who cast her away. + +He makes known his position, with his power to compensate them for the +service sought; both endorsed by the commander of the steamship, who by +good luck is acquainted with, and can answer for, his credentials. + +Nothing of this is needed; nor yet the promise of a money reward. Among +these stalwart men are many who are heroes--true Paladins, despite their +somewhat threadbare habiliments. And amidst their soiled rags shine +pistols and knives, ready to be drawn for the right. + +After hearing the young officer's tale, without listening farther, +twenty of them spring forward responsive to his call. Not for the +reward offered, but in the cause of humanity and right. He would enlist +twice or thrice the number, but deeming twenty enough, with these he +returns to the _Condor_. + +Then the two vessels part company, the steamer continuing on for Panama; +while the barque, now better manned, and with more sail set, is steered +for the point where the line of Latitude 7 degrees 20 minutes North +intersects that of Longitude 82 degrees 12 minutes West. + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR. + +A LOTTERY OF LIFE AND DEATH. + +While these scenes are passing upon the ocean, others of equally +exciting character occur upon that desert isle, where, by ill-starred +chance for themselves, the pirate crew of the _Condor_ made landing. + +They are still there, all their efforts to get off having proved idle. +But how different now from that hour when they brought their boat upon +its beach laden with the spoils of the plundered vessel! Changed not +only in their feelings but looks--scarce recognisable as the same men. +Then in the full plenitude of swaggering strength, mental as bodily, +with tongues given to loud talk; now subdued and silent, stalking about +like spectres, with weak, tottering steps; some sitting listlessly upon +stones, or lying astretch along the earth; not resting, but from sheer +inability to stand erect! + +Famine has set its seal upon their faces; hunger can be read in their +hollow eyes, and pale sunken cheeks; while thirst shows upon their +parched and shrivelled lips. + +Not strange all this. For nine days they have tasted no food, save +shell-fish and the rank flesh of sea-fowl--both in scant supply. And no +drink, excepting some rain-water caught in the boat-sail during an +occasional slight shower. + +All the while have they kept watch with an earnestness such as their +desperate circumstances evoked. A tarpauling they have rigged up by oar +and boat-hook, set upon the more elevated summit of the two--the highest +point on the isle--has failed to attract the eye of any one on the +mainland; or if seen, the signal has been disregarded; while to seaward, +no ship or other vessel has been observed--nought but the blank blue of +ocean, recalling their crime--in its calm tranquillity mocking their +remorse! + +Repentant are they now; and if they could, willingly would they undo +their wicked deed--joyfully restore the stolen gold--gladly surrender up +their captives--be but too glad to bring back to life those they have +deprived of it. + +It cannot be. Their victims left aboard the barque must have long ago +gone to the bottom of the sea. In its bed they are now sleeping their +last sleep, released from all earthly cares; and they who have so +ruthlessly consigned them to their eternal rest, now almost envy it. + +In their hour of agony, as hunger gnaws at their entrails, and thirst +scorches them like a consuming fire, they reck little of life--some even +desiring death! + +All are humbled now. Even the haughty Gomez no longer affects to be +their leader, and the savage Padilla is tamed to silent inaction, if not +tenderness. By a sort of tacit consent, Harry Blew has become the +controlling spirit--perhaps from having evinced more humanity than the +rest. Now that adversity is on them, their better natures are brought +out, and the less hardened of them have resumed the gentleness of +childhood's days. + +The change has been of singular consequence to their captives. These +are no longer restrained, but free to go and come as it pleases them. +No more need they fear insult or injury; no rudeness is offered them +either by speech or gesture. On the contrary they are treated with +studied respect, almost with deference. The choicest articles of food-- +bad at best--are apportioned to them, as also the largest share of the +water; fortunately, sufficient of both to keep up their strength. And +they in turn have been administering angels--tender nurses to the men +who have made all their misery! + +Thus have they lived up till the night of the ninth day since their +landing on the isle; then a heavy rainfall, filling the concavity of the +boat's sail, enables them to replenish the beaker, with other vessels +they had brought ashore. + +On the morning of the tenth, a striking change takes place in their +behaviour. No longer athirst, the kindred appetite becomes keener, +imparting a wolf-like expression to their features. There is a ghoulish +glance in their eyes, as they regard one another, fearful to +contemplate--even to think of. For it is the gaze of cannibalism! + +Yes, it has come to this, though no one has yet spoken of it; the thing +is only in their thoughts. + +But as time passes, it assumes substantial shape, and threatens soon to +be the subject not only of speech, but action. + +One or two show it more than the rest--Padilla most of all. In his +fierce eyes the unnatural craving is clearly recognisable--especially +when his glances are given to the fair forms moving in their midst. +There can be no mistaking that look of hungry concupiscence--the cold +calculating stare of one who would eat human flesh. + +It is the mid-hour of the day, and there has been a long interregnum of +silence; none having said much on any subject, though there is a tacit +intelligence, that the thoughts of all are on the same. + +Padilla, deeming the hour has arrived, breaks the ominous silence: + +"_Amigos_!" he says--an old appellation, considering the proposal he is +about to make--"since there's no food obtainable, it's clear we've got +to die of starvation. Though, if we could only hold out a little +longer, something might turn up to save us. For myself, I don't yet +despair but that some coasting craft may come along; or they may see our +signal from the shore. It's only a question of time, and our being able +to keep alive. Now, how are we to do that?" + +"Ay, how?" asks Velarde, as if secretly prompted to the question. + +"Well," answers Padilla, "there's a way, and only one, that I can think +of. There's no need for all of us to die--at least, not yet. Some +_one_ should, so that the others may have a chance of being saved. Are +you all agreed to it!" + +The interrogatory does not require to be more explicitly put. It is +quite comprehensible; and several signify assent, either by a nod, or in +muttered exclamations. A few make no sign, one way or the other; being +too feeble, and far gone, to care what may become of them. + +"How do you propose, Padilla?" + +It is again Velarde who questions. + +Turning his eyes towards the grotto, in which the two ladies have taken +refuge from the hot rays of the sun, the ruffian replies: + +"Well, _camarados_! I don't see why men should suffer themselves to be +starved to death, while women--" + +Harry Blew does not permit him to finish his speech. Catching its +significance, he cries: + +"Avast there! Not another word o' that. If any o' as has got to be +eaten, it must be a _man_. As for the women, they go last--not first. +I, for one, will die afore they do; an' so'll somebody else." + +Striker and Davis endorse this determination; Hernandez too, feebly; but +Gomez in speech almost firm as that of Blew himself. In De Lara's +breast there is a sentiment, which revolts at the horrid proposal of his +confederate. + +It is the first time he and Harry Blew have been in accord; and being +so, there is no uncertainty about the result. It is silently +understood, and but waits for one to declare it in words; which Striker +does, saying: + +"Though I hev been a convick, an' don't deny it, I an't a coward, nor no +way afeerd to kick up my heels whensoever I see my time's come. If that +he's now, an' Jack Striker's got to die, dash it! he's ready. But it +must be a fair an' square thing. Theerfor, let it be settled by our +castin' lots all round." + +"I agree to that," growls Padilla; "if you mean it to include the women +as well." + +"We don't mean anythin' o' the sort," says Blew, springing to his feet. +"Ye unmanly scoundrel!" he continues, approaching Padilla,--"Repeat your +dastardly proposal, an' there'll be no need for drawin' lots. In a +minnit more, eyther you or me'll make food, for anybody as likes to eat +us. Now!" + +The Californian, who has still preserved much of his tenacious strength, +and all of his ruffian ferocity, nevertheless shrinks and cowers before +the stalwart sailor. + +"_Carajo_!" he exclaims, doggedly and reluctantly submitting. "Be it as +you like. I don't care any more than the rest of you. When it comes to +facing Fate, Rafael Rocas isn't the man to show the white-feather. I +only proposed what I believed to be fair. In a matter of life and +death, I don't see why women are any better than men. But if you all +think different, then be it as you say. We can cast lots, leaving them +out." + +Padilla's submissive speech puts an end to the strange debate. The +side-issue is decided against him, and the main question once more comes +up. + +After a time, it too is determined. Hunger demands a victim. To +appease it one must die. + +The horrid resolve reached, it remains but to settle the mode of +selection. No great difficulty in this, and it is got over by Striker +saying: + +"Chums! theer's just twelve o' us, the even dozen. Let's take twelve o' +them little shells ye see scattered about, an' put 'em into the boat's +pannikin. One o' them we can mark. Him as draws out the marked shell, +must--I needn't say what." + +"Die" would have been the word, as all understand without hearing it +spoken. + +The plan is acceptable, and accepted. There seems no fairer for +obtaining the fiat of Fate on this dread question. + +The shells--_unios_--lie thickly strewn over the ground. There are +thousands, all of the same shape and size. By the "feel" it would be +impossible to tell one from another. Nor yet by their colour, since all +are snow-white. + +Twelve of them are taken up, and put into the tin pannikin--a quart +measure--one being marked with a spot of red--by blood drawn from +Striker's own arm, which he has purposely punctured. Soon absorbed by +the porous substance of the shell, it cannot be detected by the touch. + +The preliminaries completed, all gather around, ready to draw. They but +wait for him who is on watch beside the spread tarpauling, and who must +take his chances with the rest in this lottery of life and death. It is +the Dutchman who is above. They have already hailed, and commanded him +to come down, proclaiming their purpose. + +But he neither obeys them, nor gives back response. He does not even +look in their direction. They can see him by the signal-staff, standing +erect, with face turned towards the sea, and one hand over his eyes +shading them from the sun. He appears to be regarding some object in +the offing. + +Presently he lowers the spread palm, and raises a telescope with which +he is provided. + +They stand watching him, speechless, and with bated breath, their solemn +purpose for the time forgotten. In the gleam of that glass they have a +fancy there may be life, as there is light. + +The silence continues till 'tis seen going down. Then they hear words, +which send the blood in quick current through their veins, bringing hope +back into their hearts. They are: + +"_Sail in sight_!" + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE. + +BY THE SIGNAL-STAFF. + +"Sail in sight!" + +Three little words, but full of big meaning, of carrying the question of +life or death. + +To the ears of that starving crew sweet as music, despite the harsh +Teutonic pronunciation of him who gave them utterance. + +Down drops the pannikin, spilling out the shells; which they have hopes +may be no more needed. + +At the shout from above, all have faced towards the sea, and stand +scanning its surface. But with gaze unrewarded. The white flecks seen +afar are only the wings of gulls. + +"Where away?" shouts one, interrogating him on the hill. + +"Sou'-westart." + +South-westward they cannot see. In this direction their view is +bounded; a projection of the cliff interposing between them and the +outside shore. All who are able start off towards its summit. The +stronger ones rush up the gorge as if their lives depended on speed. +The weaker go toiling after. One or two, weaker still, stay below to +wait the report that will soon reach them. + +The first up, on clearing the scarp, have their eyes upon the Dutchman. +His behaviour might cause them surprise, if they could not account for +it. As said, the beacon is upon the higher of the two peaks, some two +hundred yards beyond the clift's brow. He is beside it, and apparently +beside himself. Dancing over the ground, he makes grotesque +gesticulations, tossing his arms about, and waving his hat overhead--all +the while shouting as if to some vessel close at hand--calling in rapid +repetition: + +"Ship, Ahoy! Ahoy!" + +Looking they can see no ship, nor craft of any kind. For a moment they +think him mad, and fear, after all, it may be a mistake. Certainly +there is no vessel near enough to be hailed. + +But sending their eyes farther out, their fear gives place to joy almost +delirious. There _is_ a sail, and though leagues off, seeming but a +speck, their practised eyes tell them she is steering that way--running +coastwise. Keeping this course, she must come past the isle--within +sight of their signal, so long spread to no purpose. + +Without staying to reflect farther, they strain on towards the summit, +where the staff is erected. + +Harry Blew is the first to reach it; and clutching the telescope, jerks +it from the hands of the half-crazed Dutchman. Raising it to his eye, +he directs it on the distant sail--there keeping it more than a minute. +The others have meanwhile come up, and, clustering around, impatiently +question him. + +"What is she? How's she standing?" + +"A bit o' a barque," responds Blew. "And from what I can make out, +close huggin' the shore. I'll be better able to tell when she draws out +from that clump of cloud." + +Gomez, standing by, appears eager to get hold of the glass; but Blew +seems unwilling to give it up. Still holding it at his eye, he says: + +"See to that signal, mates! Spread the tarpaulin' to its full streetch. +Face it square, so's to _give_ 'em every chance of sightin' it." + +Striker and Davis spring to the piece of tarred canvas; and grasping it, +one at each corner, draw out the creases, and hold as directed. + +All the while Blew stands with the telescope levelled, loath to +relinquish it. But Gomez, grown importunate, insists on having his +turn, and it is at length surrendered to him. + +Blew, stepping aside, seems excited with some emotion he would conceal. +Strong it must be, judging from its effects on the ex-man-o'-war's man. +On his face there is an expression difficult to describe--surprise +amounting to amazement--joy subdued by anxiety. Soon, as having given +up the glass, he pulls off his dreadnought, then divesting himself of +his shirt--a scarlet flannel--he suspends it from the outer end of the +cross-piece which supports the tarpauling; as he does so, saying to +Striker and Davis: + +"That's a signal no ship ought to disregard, and won't if manned by +Christian men. _She_ won't, if she sees it. You two stay here, and +keep the things well spread I'm goin' below to say a word to them poor +creeturs in the cave. Stand by the staff, and don't let any o' them +haul it down." + +"Ay, ay!" answers Striker, without comprehending, and somewhat wondering +at Blew's words--under the circumstances strange. "All right, mate. Ye +may depend on me an' Bill." + +"I know it--I do," rejoins the ex-man-o'-war's man, again slipping the +pilot-coat over his shirtless skin. + +"Both o' you be true to me, and 'fore long I may be able to show as +Harry Blew an't ungrateful." + +Saying this, he separates from them, and hurries back down the gorge. + +The Sydney Ducks, left standing by the staff, more than ever wonder at +what he has said, and interrogate one another as to his meaning. + +In the midst of their mutual questioning, they are attracted by a cry +strangely intoned. It is from Gomez, who has brought down the +telescope, and holds it in hands that shake as with a palsy. + +"What is it?" asks Padilla, stepping up to him. + +"Take the glass, Rafael Rocas. See for yourself!" + +The contrabandista does as directed. + +He is silent for some seconds, while getting the telescope on the +strange vessel. Soon as he has her within the field of view, he +commences making remarks, overheard by Striker and Davis, giving both +surprise--though the latter least. + +"Barque she is--polacca-masts. _Carramba_! that's queer. About the +same bulk, too! If it wasn't that we're sure of the _Condor_ being +below, I'd swear it was she. Of course, it can be only a coincidence. +_Santissima_! a strange one!" + +Velarde, in turn, takes the telescope; he, too, after a sight through +it, expressing himself in a similar manner. + +Hernandez next--for the four Spaniards have all ascended to the hill. + +But Striker does not wait to hear what Hernandez may have to say. +Dropping the tarpauling, he strides up to him, and, _sans ceremonie_, +jerks the instrument out of his fingers. Then bringing it to his eye, +sights for himself. + +Less than twenty seconds suffice for him to determine the character of +the vessel. Within that time, his glance taking in her hull, traversing +along the line of her bulwarks, and then ascending to the tops of her +tall smooth masts, he recognises all, as things with which he is well +acquainted. + +He, too, almost lets drop the telescope, as, turning to the others, he +says in a scared, but confident voice: + +"_By God, its the Condor_!" + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX. + +A VERY NEMESIS. + +Striker's announcement, profanely as emphatically made, thrills the +hearts of those hearing it with fear. Not fear of the common kind, but +a weird undefinable apprehension. + +"_Caspitta_!" exclaims Padilla. "The _Condor_! that cannot be. How +could it?" + +"It's her for all that," returns Striker. "How so, I don't understan' +any more than yourselves. But that yonder craft be the Chili barque, or +her ghost, I'll take my affydavy on the biggest stack o' Bibles." + +His words summon up strange thoughts which take possession of the minds +of those listening. For how can it be the _Condor_, scuttled, sent to +the bottom of the sea? Impossible! + +In their weak state, with nerves unnaturally excited, they almost +believe it an illusion--a spectre! One and all are the prey to wild +fancies, that strike terror to their guilty souls. Something more than +mortal is pursuing--to punish them. Is it the hand of God? For days +they have been in dread of God's hand; and now they seem to see it +stretched out, and coming towards them! Surely a Fate--an avenging +Nemesis! + +"It's the barque, beyond doubt!" continues Striker, with the glass again +at his eye. "Everythin' the same, 'ceptin' her sails, the which show +patched-like. That be nothin'. It's the Chili craft, and no other. +Yonner's the ensign wi' the one star trailin' over her taffrail. Her, +sure's we stan' heer!" + +"_Chingara_!" cries Gomez. "Where are they who took charge of the +scuttling? _Did_ they do it?" + +Remembering the men, all turn round, looking for them. They are not +among the group gathered around the staff. Blew has long ago gone down +the gorge, and Davis is just disappearing into it. + +They shout to him to come back. He hears; but heeds not. Continuing +on, he is soon out of sight. + +It matters little questioning him, and they give up thought of it. The +thing out at sea engrosses all their attention. + +Now nearer, the telescope is no longer needed to tell that it is a +barque, polacca-masted; in size, shape of hull, sit in the water-- +everything the same as with the _Condor_. And the bit of bunting, red, +white, blue--the Chilian ensign--the flag carried by the barque they +abandoned. They remember a blurred point in the central star: 'tis +there! + +Spectre or not, with all canvas spread, she is standing towards them-- +straight towards them--coming on at a rate of speed that soon brings her +abreast the islet. She has seen their signal--no doubt of that. If +there were--it is before long set at rest. For, while they are watching +her, she draws opposite the opening in the reef; then lets sheets loose; +and, squaring her after-yards, is instantly hove to. + +A boat is dropped from the davits; as it strikes the water, men are seen +swarming over the side into it. Then the plash of oars, their wet +blades glinting in the sun; as the boat is rowed through the +reef-passage. + +Impelled by strong arms, it soon crosses the stretch of calm water, and +shoots up into the cove. + +Beaching it, the crew spring out on the pebbly strand--some not waiting +till it is drawn up, but dashing breast-deep into the surf. There are +nearly twenty, all stalwart fellows, with big beards--some in sailor +garb, but most red-shirted, belted, bristling with bowie-knives, and +pistols! + +Two are different from the rest--in the uniform of naval officers, with +caps gold-banded. One of these seems to command, being the first to +leap out of the boat; soon as on shore, drawing his sword, and advancing +at the head of the others. + +All this observed by the four Spaniards, who are still around the +signal-staff, like it, standing fixed; though not motionless, for they +are shaking with fear. Their apprehensions, hitherto, of the +supernatural, are now real. Even Frank Lara, despite his great +courage--his only good quality--feels fear now. For in the officer, +leading with drawn sword, he recognises the man who made smash of his +Monte bank! + +For some moments, he stands in silence, with eyes dilated. He has +watched the beaching of the boat, and the debarking of her crew, without +saying word. But, soon as recognising Crozier, he clutches Calderon by +the arm; more vividly than ever now his crime recalled to him, for now +its punishment, as that of them all, seems near. There is no chance to +escape it. To resist, will only be to hasten their doom--death. + +They do not think of resistance, nor yet flight; but remain upon the +hill-top, sullen and speechless. + +Calderon is the first to break the silence, frantically exclaiming: + +"_Santos Dios_! the officers of the English frigate! Mystery of +Mysteries! What can it mean?" + +"No mystery," rejoins De Lara, addressing himself to the other three; +"none whatever. I see it all now, clear as the sun at noonday. Blew +has been traitor to us, as I suspected all along. He and Davis have not +scuttled the barque, but left her to go drifting about; and the frigate +to which these officers belong has come across, picked her up--and lo! +they are there!" + +"That's it, no doubt," says Velarde, otherwise Don Manuel Diaz. "But +those rough fellows along with them don't appear to be men-of-war's men, +nor sailors of any kind. More like gold-diggers, I should say; such as +crowd the streets of San Francisco. They must have come thence." + +"It matters not what they are, or where from. Enough that they're here, +and we in their power." + +At this Diaz and Padilla, now known as Rafael Rocas, step towards the +cliff's edge to have a look below, leaving the other two by the staff. + +"What do you suppose they'll do to us?" asks Calderon of De Lara. "Do +you think they'll--" + +"Shoot, or hang us?" interrupts De Lara; "that's what you'd say. I +don't think anything about it. I'm sure of it. One or other they'll +do, to a certainty." + +"_Santissima_!" piteously exclaims the ex-ganadero. "Is there no chance +of escaping?" + +"None whatever. No use our trying to get away from them. There's +nowhere we could conceal ourselves; not a spot to give us shelter for a +single hour. For my part, I don't intend to stir from this spot. I may +as well be taken here as anywhere else. _Carramba_, no!" he exclaims, +as if something has occurred to make him change his mind. "I shall go +below, and meet my death like a man. No; like a tiger. Before dying, +_I shall kill_. Are you good to do the same? Are you game for it?" + +"I don't comprehend you," answers Calderon. "Kill what, or whom?" + +"Whomsoever I can. Two for certain." + +"Which two?" + +"Edward Crozier and Carmen Montijo. You may do as you please. I've +marked out my pair, and mean to have their lives before yielding up my +own--hers, if I can't his. She sha'n't live to triumph over me. No; by +the Almighty God!" + +While speaking, the desperado has taking out his revolver, and holding +it at half-cock, spins the cylinder round, to see that all the six +chambers are loaded, with the caps on the nipples. Assured of this, he +returns it to its holster; and then glances at his _machete_, hanging on +his left hip. All this with a cool carefulness, which shows him +determined upon his hellish purpose. + +Calderon, trembling at the very thought of it, endeavours to dissuade +him; urging that, after all, they may be only made prisoners, and +leniently dealt with. + +He is cut short by De Lara crying out: + +"You may go to prison and rot there, if it so please you. After what's +happened, that's not the destiny for me. I prefer death, and +vengeance." + +"Better life, and vengeance," cries Rocas, coming up, Diaz along with +him, both in breathless haste. "Quick, comrades!" he continues; "follow +me! I'll find a way to save the first, and maybe get the last, sooner +than you expected." + +"It's no use, Rafael," argues De Lara, misunderstanding the speech of +the seal-hunter. "If we attempt flight, they'll only shoot us down the +sooner. Where could we flee too?" + +"Come on; I'll show you where. _Carajo_! Don't stand hesitating; every +second counts now. If we can but get ther in time--" + +"Get where?" + +"_Al bote_!" + +On hearing the words, De Lara utters an exclamation of joy. They +apprise him of a plan which may not only get him out of danger, but give +revenge, sweet as ever fell to the lot of mortal man. + +He hesitates no longer, but hastens after the seal-hunter; who, with the +other two, has already started towards the brow of the cliff. + +But not to stay there; for in a few seconds after the four are +descending it; not through the gorge by which they came up, but +another--also debouching into the bay. + +Little dream the English officers, or the brave men who have landed with +them, of the peril impending. If the scheme of the seal-hunter succeed, +theirs will be a pitiful fate: the tables will be turned upon them! + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN. + +ALMOST A MURDER. + +At the cliff's base, the action, simultaneous, is even more exciting. + +Having left their boat behind, with a man to take care of it, the +rescuers advance towards the inner end of the cove. + +At first with caution: till passing the rock-portal, they see the +platform and those on it. + +Then the young officers rush forward, with no fear of having to fight. +Instead of armed enemies to meet them, they behold the dear ones from +whom they have been so long apart. Beside them, half-a-dozen figures, +more like skeletons than men--with cowed, craven faces, seeming so +feeble as to have a difficulty in keeping their feet! + +With swords sheathed, and pistols returned to their holsters, the +English officers hasten on, the young ladies rushing out to receive +them. + +Soon they are together, two and two, breasts touching, and arms enfolded +in mutual embrace. + +For a while no words--the hearts of all too full for speech. Only +ejaculations and kisses, with tears, but not of sorrow. + +Then succeeds speech, necessarily brief and half-incoherent, Crozier +telling Carmen that her father is still alive, and aboard the barque. +He lives--he is safe! that is enough. + +Then in answer to his questions, a word or two, on her fide. But +without waiting to hear all, he turns abruptly upon Harry Blew, who is +seen some paces off. Neither by word, nor gesture, has the sailor yet +saluted him. He stands passive, a silent spectator; as Crozier +supposes, the greatest criminal on earth. In quick retrospect of what +has occurred, and what he has heard from Don Gregorio, how could it be +otherwise? + +But he will not condemn without hearing him, and stepping up to the +ex-man-o'-war's man, he demands explanation of his conduct, sternly +saying: + +"Now, sir, I claim an account from you. Tell your story straight, and +don't conceal aught, or prevaricate. If your treason be as black as I +believe it, you deserve no mercy from me. And your only chance to +obtain it, will be by telling the truth." + +While speaking, he has again drawn his sword, and stands confronting the +sailor--as if a word were to be the signal for thrusting him through. + +Blew is himself armed with both pistol and knife. But, so far from +touching either, or making any sign of an intention to defend himself he +remains cowed-like, his head drooping down to his breast. + +He gives no response. His lips move not; neither his arms nor limbs. +Alone, his broad chest heaves and falls, as if stirred by some terrible +emotion. + +His silence seems a confession of guilt! + +Taking, or mistaking, it for this, Crozier cries out: + +"Traitor! Confess, before I run this blade through your miserable +body!" + +The threat elicits an answer. + +"You may kill me, if you wish, Master Edward. By rights, my life +belongs to ye. But, if you take it, I'll have the satisfaction o' +knowin', I've done the best I could to prove my gratefulness for your +once savin' it." + +Long before he has finished his strange speech, the impending stroke is +stayed, and the raised blade dropped point downward. For, on the hand +which grasps it, a gentler one is laid, a soft voice saying:-- + +"Hold, Eduardo! _Dios de mi alma_! What would you do? You know not. +This brave man--to him I owe my life--I and Inez." + +"Yes," adds Inez, advancing, "more than life. 'Tis he who protected +us." + +Crozier stands trembling, the sword almost shaken from his grasp. And +while sheathing it, he is told how near he has been to doing that which +would ever after have made him miserable. + +He feels like one withheld from murder--almost parricide. For to have +killed Harry Blew, would have been like killing his own father. + +The exciting episode is almost instantly succeeded by another, even more +stirring, and longer sustained. While Carmen is proceeding to explain +her interference on behalf of Blew, she is interrupted by cries coming +up from the beach. Not meaningless shouts, but words of ominous import. + +"Ahoy, there! help! help!" + +Coupled with them, Crozier hears his own name, then the "Help, help!" +reiterated; recognising the voice of the man left in charge of the +boat--Grummet. + +Without hesitating an instant, he springs off toward the strand, +Cadwallader and the gold-diggers following; two staying to keep guard +over those of the robbers who have surrendered. + +On clearing the rocky ledge, they see what is causing the coxswain to +sing out in such terrified accents. Grummet is in the boat, but upon +his feet, with a boat-hook in his hands, which he brandishes in a +threatening manner, shouting all the while. Four men are making towards +him fast as their legs can carry them. They are coming along the beach +from the right side of the cove. + +At a glance the English officers recognise two of them--De Lara and +Calderon--sooner from their not meeting them there unexpectedly. For +aware that they are on the isle, they were about to go in quest of those +gentlemen, after settling other affairs. + +No need to search for them now. There they are, with their +confederates, rushing direct for the boat--already within pistol-shot of +it. + +Nor can there be any doubt about their intention to seize upon the boat +and carry her off! + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT. + +THE TABLES NEARLY TURNED. + +The sight thus unexpectedly brought before the eyes of the rescuers +sends a shiver through their hearts, and draws exclamations of alarm +from their lips. With quick intuition one and all comprehend the +threatened danger. All at that moment remember having left only two or +three men on the barque; and, should the pirates succeed in boarding, +they may carry her off to sea, leaving themselves on the isle. + +The prospect is appalling! But they do not dwell upon it; they have +neither time, nor need. It is too clear, like a flash passing before +their minds, in all its dread details! Without waiting to exchange word +with one another, they rush on to arrest the threatened catastrophe, +bounding over the rocks, crashing through shells and pebbles. But they +are behind time, and the others will reach the boat before them! + +Crozier, perceiving this, shouts to the coxswain-- + +"Shove off, Grummet! Into deep water with you!" + +Grummet, understanding what is meant, brings the boat-hook point +downward, and with a desperate effort, pushes the keel clear, sending +the boat adrift. + +But before he can repeat the push, pistols are fired, and, simultaneous +with their reports, he is seen to sink down, and lie doubled over the +thwarts. + +A yell of vengeance peals from the pursuing party; and, maddened, they +rush on. They will be too late! Already the pirates have reached the +boat, now undefended; and all four together, swarming over the gunwale, +drop down upon the thwarts, each as he does so seizing hold of an oar, +and shipping it. + +In agony, Crozier cries out-- + +"O God! are they to get away--these guilty, redhanded wretches?" + +It would seem so. They have already dipped their oar-blades into the +water, and commenced pulling, while they are beyond pistol-range. + +Ha! something stays them! God is not for them. Their arms rise and +fall, but the boat moves not! Her keel is on a coral bottom; her bilge +caught upon its rough projections. Their own weight pressing down, +holds her fast, and their oar-strokes are idly spent! + +They had not thought of being thus stayed; though it proves the +turning-point of their fate. + +No use their leaping out now, to lighten the boat; no time for that, nor +any chance to escape. But two alternatives stare them in the face-- +resistance, which means death; surrender, that seems the same. + +De Lara would resist and die; so also Rocas. But the other two are +against it, instinctively holding on to whatever hope of life be left +them. + +The craven Calderon cuts short the uncertainty by rising erect, +stretching forth his arms, and crying out in a piteous appeal for mercy. + +In an instant after they are surrounded, the boat grasped by the +gunwale, and dragged back to the shore. Crozier with difficulty +restrains the angry gold-diggers from shooting them down on the thwarts. +Well for them the coxswain has not been killed, but only wounded, and +in no danger of losing his life. Were it otherwise, theirs would be +taken on the spot. + +Assured of his safety, his rescuers pull the four wretches out of the +boat; then disarming, drag them up to the platform, and bestow them in +the larger cave: for a time to be their prison, though not long. For, +there is a judge present, accustomed to sit upon short trials, and pass +quick sentences, soon succeeded by their execution. He is the +celebrated _Justice Lynch_. + +Represented by a stalwart digger--all the others acting as Jury--the +trial is speedily brought to a termination. For the four of Spanish +nationality the verdict is guilty--the sentence, _death_--on the +scaffold. + +The others, less criminal, are to be carried on to Panama, and there +delivered over to the Chilian consul; their crime being mutiny, with +robbery, and abandonment of a Chilian vessel. + +An exception is made in the case of Striker and Davis. The "Sydney +Ducks" receive conditional pardon, on promise of better behaviour +throughout all future time. This they obtain by the intercession of +Harry Blew, in accordance with the hint he gave them while they were +standing together beside the spread tarpauling. + +Of the men sentenced to be hanged, one meets his fate in a different +manner. The gold-dust has been recovered, packed, and put into the +boat. The senoritas are cloaked, and impatient to be taken back to the +barque, yearning to embrace him they have so long believed dead. + +The English officers stand beside them; all awaiting the last scene of +the tragedy--the execution of the condemned criminals. + +The stake has been set for it; this the level plot of ground in front of +the cavern's month. A rope hangs down with a running noose at one end; +the other, in default of gallow's arm and branch of tree, rigged over +the point of a projecting rock. + +All this arranged, De Lara is led out first, a digger on each side of +him. He is not tied, nor confined in any way. They have no fear of his +making his escape. + +Nor has he any thoughts of attempting it; though he thinks of something +else, as desperate and deadly. He will not die like a scared dog, but +as a fierce tiger; to the last thirsting for blood, to the end trying to +destroy--to kill! The oath sworn by him above on the cliff, he still is +determined on keeping. + +As they conduct him out of the cave, his eyes glaring with lurid light, +go searching everywhere, till they rest upon a group some twenty paces +distant. It is composed of four persons: Crozier and Carmen, +Cadwallader and Inez, standing two and two. + +At the last pair De Lara looks not, the first enchaining his attention. +Only one short glance he gives them; another to a pistol which hangs +holstered on the hip of a gold-digger guarding him. + +A spring, and he has possession of it; a bound, and he is off from +between the two men, and rushing on towards the group standing apart! + +Fortunately for Edward Crozier--for Carmen Montijo as well--there are +cries of alarm, shouts of warning, that reach him in time. + +He turns on hearing them, sees the approaching danger, and takes +measures to avert it. Simple enough these--but the drawing of his +revolver, and firing at the man who advances. + +Two shots are heard, one on each side, almost simultaneous; but enough +apart to decide which of the two who fired must fall. + +Crozier's pistol had cracked first; and as the smokes of both swirl up, +the gambler is seen astretch upon the sward--the blood spurting from his +breast, and spreading over his shirt bosom! + +Harry Blew, rushing forward, and bending over him, cries out: + +"Dead! Shot through the heart--a brave heart too! What a pity 'twar so +black!" + +"Come away, _mia querida_!" says Crozier to Carmen. "Your father will +be suffering from anxiety about you. You've had enough of the horrible. +Let us hope this is the end of it." + +Taking his betrothed by the hand, he leads her down to the boat-- +Cadwallader and Inez accompanying them. + +All seat themselves in the stern-sheets, and wait for the diggers; who +soon after appear, conducting their prisoners, the pirate crew of the +_Condor_; short four left behind--a banquet for the _caracaras_! + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE. + +A SAILOR'S TRUE YARN. + +It is the second day after the tragedy upon the isle, and the Chilian +barque has sailed away from the Veraguan coast, out of that indentation +known upon modern maps as "Montijo Bay." + +She has long since rounded Cabo Mala, and is standing in for the port of +Panama. With a full crew--most of them old and able seamen--no fear but +she will reach it now. + +Crozier in command, has restored Harry Blew to his old rank of first +officer; which so far from having forfeited, he is now deemed to doubly +deserve. But still weak from his long privation, the ex-man-o'-war's +man is excused from duty, Cadwallader doing it for him. + +Harry is strong enough, however, to tell the young officers what they +are all ears to hear--the story of that _Flag of Distress_. Their time +hitherto taken up attending upon their _fiancees_, they have deferred +calling for the full account, which only the English sailor can give +them. + +Now having passed Cabo Mala, as if with that promontory of bad repute +all evil were left behind, they are in the mood to listen to the +narration in all its details; and for this have summoned the chief +officer to their side. + +"Your honours!" he begins, "it's a twisted-up yarn, from the start to +the hour ye hove in sight; an' if ye hadn't showed yerselves just in the +nick o' time, an' ta'en the twist out o' it, hard to say how 'twould 'a +ended. No doubt, in all o' us dyin' on that desert island, an' layin' +our bones there. Thank the Lord, for our delivery--'ithout any +disparagement to what's been done by both o' you, young gentlemen. For +that He must ha' sent you, an has had a guidin' hand throughout the +whole thing, I can't help thinkin', 'specially when I look back on the +scores o' chances that seemed goin' against the right, an' still sheered +round to it after all." + +"True," assents Crozier, honouring the devout faith of the sailor. +"You're quite right in ascribing it to Divine interference. Certainly, +God's hand seems to have been extended in our favour. But go on!" + +"Well, to commence at the beginnin', which is when you left me at San +Francisco. As I told Master Willie, that day he comed ashore in the +dingy, I war engaged to go chief mate in the Chili barque. She war then +a ship; afterward converted as ye see, through our shortness o' hands. + +"When I went aboard her, an' for sev'ral days after, I war the only +thing in the shape o' sailor she'd got. Then her captain--that poor +crazed creetur below--put advertisements in the papers, offering big +pay; the which, as I then supposed, brought eleven chaps, callin' +themselves sailors, an' shippin' as such. One o' 'em, for want o' a +better, war made second mate--his name bein' entered on the books as +Padilla. He war the last o' the three swung up, an' if ever man +desarved hangin', he did, bein' the cruellest scoundrel o' the lot. + +"After we'd waited another day or two, an' no more makin' appearance, +the skipper made up his mind to sail. Then the old gentleman, along wi' +the two saynoreetas, came aboard; when we cleared an' stood out to sea. + +"Afore leavin' port, I had a suspishun about the sort o' crew we'd +shipped. But soon's we are fairly afloat, it got to be somethin' worse +than suspishun; I war sartin then we'd an ugly lot to deal with. Still, +I only believed them to be bad men--an', if that war possible, worse +seamen. I expected trouble wi' them in sailin' the vessel; an' a +likelihood o' them bein' disobedient. But on the second night after +leavin' land, I found out somethin' o' a still darker stripe--that they +war neither more nor less than a gang o' piratical conspirators, an' had +a plan already laid out. A lucky chance led to me discoverin' their +infarnal design. The two we've agreed to let go off--Jack Striker an' +Bill Davis--both old birds from the convict gangs o' Australia--war +talkin' it over atween themselves, an' I chanced to overhear them. What +they sayed made everythin' clear--as it did my hair to stand on eend. +Twar a scheme to plunder the ship o' the gold-dust Don Gregorio hed got +in her; an' carry off your young ladies. Same time they war to scuttle +the vessel, an' sink her; first knockin' the old gentleman on the head, +as well as the skipper; whiles your humble sarvint an' the darkey are to +be disposed o' same sweet fashion. + +"On listenin' to the dyabolikal plot, I war clear dumfoundered, an' for +a while didn't know what to do. 'Twar a case o' life an' death to some +o' us; an' for the saynoreetas, somethin' worse. At first I thort o' +telling Captain Lantanas, an' also Don Gregorio. But then I seed if I +shud, that 'twould only make death surer to all as were doomed. I +knowed the skipper to be a man o' innocent, unsuspishus nature, an' +mightn't gi'e belief to such 'trocious rascality, as bein' a thing +possible. More like he'd let out right away, an' bring on the bloody +bizness sooner than they intended it. From what Striker and Davis said, +I made out that it war to be kept back, till we should sight land near +Panyma. + +"Well; after a big spell o' thinkin', I seed a sort o' way out of it-- +the only one appearin' possible. 'Twar this: to purtend joinin' in wi' +the conspirators, an' put myself at thar head. I'd larnt from the talk +o' the two Sydney Ducks there war a split 'mong them, 'bout the dividin' +o' the gold-dust. I seed this would gi'e me a chance to slip in along +wi' them. So takin' advantage o' it, I broached the bizness to Striker +that same night, and got into his confidence, an' theer councils; +arterwards obtaining the influence I wanted. + +"Mind, gentlemen, it took a smart show o' trickery and maneuvrin'. +'Mong other things, I had to appear cool to the cabin people throughout +all the voyage--specially them two sweet creeturs. Many's the time my +heart ached thinkin' o' yourself, Mr Crozier, as also Master Willie-- +an' then o' your sweethearts, an' what might happen, if I should fail in +my plan for protectin' 'em. When they wanted to be free and friendly, +an' once began talkin' to me, I hed to answer 'em gruff an' growlin', +knowin' that eyes war on me all the while, an' ears listenin'. As to +tellin' them what was before, or givin' them the slimmest hint o' it, +that would 'a spoilt my plans, an' ruined everything. They'd a gone +straight to the old gentleman, an' then it would 'a been all up wi' us. +'Twar clear to me they all couldn't be saved, an' that Don Gregorio +himself would hev to be sacrificed, as well as the skipper an' cook. I +thought that dreadful hard; but thar war no help for't, as I'd have +enough on my hands in takin' care o' the women, without thinkin' o' the +men. As the Lord has allowed, an' thank Him for it, all ha'e been +saved!" + +The speaker pauses, in the fervour of his gratitude; which his +listeners, respecting, in silence wait for him to continue the +narration. He does so: + +"At last, on sightin' land, as agreed on, the day had come for the doin' +of the dark deed. It war after night when they set about it, myself +actin' as a sort o' recognised leader. I'd played my part, so's to get +control o' the rest. We first lowered a boat, putting our things into +her. Then we separated, some to get out the gold-dust, others to seize +the saynoreetas. I let Gomez look after them, for fear of bringing on +trouble too soon. Me an' Davis--who chances to be a sort o' Jack +carpenter--were to do the scuttlin'; an', for that purpose, went down +into the hold. There I proposed to him to give the doomed ones a chance +for their lives, by lettin' the barque float a bit longer. Though he be +a convict, he warn't nigh so bad as the rest. + +"He consented to my proposal, an' we returned on deck 'ithout tapping +the barque's bottom-timbers. + +"Soon's I had my head over the hatch coamin', I seed them all below in +the boat, the girls along wi' them. I didn't know what they'd done to +the Don an' skipper I had my fears about 'em, thinkin' they might ha'e +been murdered, as Padilla had proposed. But I darn't go back to the +cabin then, lest they might shove off, an' leave us in the lurch: as +some war threatenin' to do, more than one wantin' it, I know. If they'd +done that--well, it's no use sayin' what might ha' been the upshot. +Tharfore, I had to hurry down into the boat. Then, we rowed away; +leavin' the barque just as she'd been the whole o' that day. + +"As we pulled shoreward, we could see her standing off, all sails set-- +same as tho' the crew wor abroad o' her workin' 'em." + +"But her ensign reversed?" asks Cadwallader. "She was carrying it so, +when we came across her. How came that, Harry?" + +"Ah! the bit o' buntin' upside-down! I did that myself in the dark; +thinkin' it might get them a better chance o' bein' picked up. I'd just +time to do it afore droppin' into the boat." + +"And you did the very thing!" exclaims Crozier. "I see God's hand in +that surely! But for the distress signal, the _Crusader_ would have +kept on without giving chase; and--. But, proceed! Tell us what +happened afterwards." + +"Well; we landed in the island, not knowin' it to be a island. An' +theer's another o' the chances, showin' we've been took care o' by the +little cherub as sits up aloft. If it hed been the mainland--well, I +needn't tell ye, things would now be different. After landin', we +stayed all night on the shore; the men sleeping in the biggest o' the +caves, while the ladies occupied a smaller one. I took care 'bout that +separation myself, detarmined they shouldn't come to no harm. + +"That night theer war a thing happened which I dar say they've told you; +an' twar from them I afterwards larned that Gomez an' Hernandez war no +other than the two chaps you'd trouble wi' at San Francisco. They went +into the cave, an' said some insultin' things to the saynoreetas; I +warn't 'far off, an' would 'a made short work wi' them, hed it goed +farther than talk. + +"Well; up at a early hour next mornin', we found the boat had drifted +off seaward, an' got bilged on the breakers. But supposin' we shouldn't +want her any more, nobody thought anythin' about it. Then comed the +dividin' o' the gold-dust, an' after it the great questyun--leastwise, +so far as I war consarned--as to who should take away the girls. I'd +been waitin' for this, an' for the settlin' o't I war ready to do or +die. Gomez an' Hernandez war the two who laid claim to 'em--as I +knowed, an' expected they would. Pertendin' a likin' for Miss Carmen +myself, an' puttin' Davis up to what I wanted 'bout the tother, we also +put in our claim. It ended in Gomez an' me goin' in for a fight; which +must 'a tarminated in the death o' one or other o' us. I hed no dread +o' dyin'; only from the fear o' its leavin' the saynoreetas unprotected. +But thar war no help for't, an' I agreed to the duel, which war to be +fought first wi' pistols, an' finished up, if need be, wi' the steel. + +"Everythin' settled, we war 'bout settin' to, when one o' the fellows-- +who'd gone up the cliff to take a look ahead--just then sung out, that +we'd landed on a island. Recallin' the lost boat, we knew that meant a +dreadful danger. In coorse it stopped the fight, an' we all rushed up +to the cliff. + +"When we saw how things stood, there war no more talk o' quarrellin'. +The piratical scoundrels war scared nigh out o' thar senses; an' would +'a been glad to get back aboard the craft they'd come out o', the which +all, 'ceptin' Davis an' myself, supposed to be at the bottom o' the sea. + +"After that, 'twar all safe, as far as concarned the saynoreetas. To +them as wanted 'em so bad, they war but a second thought, in the face of +starvation; which soon tamed the wolves down, an' kep 'em so till the +last o' the chapter. + +"Now, young gentlemen; ye know how Harry Blew hev behaved, an' can judge +for yourselves, whether he's kep the word he gi'ed you 'fore leavin' San +Francisco." + +"Behaved nobly, grandly!" cries Crozier. "Kept your word like a man: +like a true British sailor! Come to my arms--to my heart, Harry! And +forgive the suspicions we had, not being able to help them. Here, Will! +take him to yours, and show him how grateful we both are, to the man who +has done more for us than saving our lives." + +"Bless you, Blew! God bless you!" exclaims Cadwallader, promptly +responding to the appeal; and holding Harry in a hug that threatens to +crush in his ribs. + +The affecting scene is followed by an interval of profound silence; +broken by the voice of Grummet, who, at the wheel, is steering straight +into the port of Panama, now in sight. + +"Mr Crozier!" calls out the old coxswain, "do ye see that craft--the +one riding at anchor out yonder in the roadstead?" + +All three turn their eyes in the direction indicated; soon as they have +done so, together exclaiming: + +"_The Crusader_!" + +The last incident of our tale takes place at Cadiz, in a grand cathedral +church; before the altar of which stand two English naval officers, and +alongside each a beautiful Spanish damsel, soon to be his wedded wife. + +It scarce needs to tell that the bridegrooms are Edward Crozier and +Willie Cadwallader--both now lieutenants. Nor need we say who are the +brides; since they are to be given away by Don Gregorio Montijo. + +As little necessary to speak of the ceremonial splendour of that double +wedding--long time the _novedad_ of Cadiz. + +Enough to say that present at it are all the wealth and fashion of the +old Andalusian city, with foreign consuls, and the commanders of +warships in the port: conspicuous amongst these, Captain Bracebridge, +and the officers of Her Britannic Majesty's frigate _Crusader_. + +Also two other men of the sea--of its merchant service; to hear of whose +presence there will, no doubt, make the reader happy, as it does both +the brides and the bridegrooms to see them. They belong to a ship lying +in the harbour, carrying polacca-masts, on her stern lettered "El +Condor;" one of the two being her captain, called Lantanas; the other +her chief officer, by name Blew. + +God has been just and good to the gentle Chilian skipper, having long +since lifted from his mind the cloud that temporarily obscured it. He +now knows all, and above all, Harry Blew in his true colours; and, +though on the _Condor's_ deck they are still captain and mate, when +below by themselves in her cabin, all distinction of rank disappears, +and they are affectionate friends--almost as brothers. + +In the prosperous trading-craft _Condor_, re-converted into her original +shape of ship--regularly voyaging between Valparaiso and Cadiz, +exchanging the gold and silver of Chili for the silks and sweet wines of +Spain--but few would recognise a barque once chased over the South Sea, +believed to be a spectre; and, it is to be hoped, no one will ever again +see her sailing under a _Flag of Distress_. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Flag of Distress, by Mayne Reid + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLAG OF DISTRESS *** + +***** This file should be named 25164.txt or 25164.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/1/6/25164/ + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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