The Flag of Distress Part 46

"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 s.h.i.+pmates 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 p.o.o.p-deck, and cl.u.s.ter 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.

"s.h.i.+pmates!" 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 s.e.x, 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 s.h.i.+ps--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 pa.s.sage 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 s.e.x to wait upon them--a want due to circ.u.mstances partially accidental, but wholly unexpected. The Chilian skipper, not accustomed to have a stewardess on his s.h.i.+p, 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 a.s.siduity.

And Captain Lantanas is equally a.s.siduous 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 const.i.tution. 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 s.h.i.+p. 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 s.h.i.+p--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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s 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 s.h.i.+p.

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 pa.s.sing glance at the objects indicated.

Even the two gigantic apes, that go gambolling about the decks-- exhibiting uncouth gestures, and uttering hoa.r.s.e 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 ill.u.s.trate 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 lat.i.tude. 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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sist 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 s.h.i.+pped on the Chilian craft, finds himself alone in the presence of the ladies.

They salute him with an _empress.e.m.e.nt_, 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 s.h.i.+p'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.