The Flag of Distress Part 33

"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 ash.o.r.e in the little boat," whispers Inez to her aunt. "He's bringing us _billet.i.tas_. 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 s.h.i.+rt-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-sc.r.a.pe 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,--Circ.u.mstances 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 s.h.i.+p 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 circ.u.mstances 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 circ.u.mstances 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 _a.s.sa.s.sins_! 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 s.h.i.+p--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 a.s.sist 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 _billet.i.tas_. For all, he takes departure, without leaving them a sc.r.a.p!

A pang of disappointment--almost chagrin--shoots through the soul of Carmen, as she sees him pa.s.sing 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 windla.s.s 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 s.h.i.+p 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-s.h.i.+p 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 doc.u.ments 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 circ.u.mstances 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 a.s.sa.s.sins, 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 s.h.i.+p, 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 ash.o.r.e, and deliver it to Harry Blew. Then, in less than twenty minutes after the returned mids.h.i.+pman 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 pa.s.ses 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, gla.s.ses 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 att.i.tude, watching the wars.h.i.+p, 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 s.h.i.+p. They too stand with gla.s.ses 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, crus.h.i.+ng 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."