The Flag of Distress Part 31

"_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 a.s.surance 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 s.h.i.+p, either as first or second officer.

With Crozier's endors.e.m.e.nt 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 s.h.i.+p. 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 s.h.i.+p 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 p.r.o.nounce 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 ash.o.r.e 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 s.h.i.+pped. 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 ash.o.r.e.

Leaving his boat at the pier, he first goes to the office of the s.h.i.+p-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 sh.o.r.e-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 s.h.i.+p _solus_.

a.s.sisted 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 s.h.i.+p, 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 mids.h.i.+pman the result of his application to the captain of the Chilian s.h.i.+p, 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 mids.h.i.+pman 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 ash.o.r.e 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.