THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ty / / L* S THE FLAG OF DISTRESS: A TALE OF THE SOUTH SEA. CAPT. MAYNE KEID, AUTHOR OF " THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN," " OSCEOLA J OR, THE SEMINOLE CHIEF," "AFLOAT IN THE FOREST," " THE GIRAFFE HUNTERS," " THE DESERT HOME," ETC. NEW YORK: JAMES MILLER, PUBLISHER, 779 BROADWAY. 1882. NEW YORK, January 1st, 1869. MESSES. FIELDS, OSOOD, & Co.: I accept the terms offered, and hereby concede to you the exclusive right of publication, in the United State*, of all my juvenile Tales of Adventure, known as Boys' KorsU. MAYNE BEIP. ANNEX PR CONTENTS. CHAPTBB L PAOB. A. On ASK ............ CHAPTER H. A GALL FOB BOARDERS ........ 18 CHAPTER m. THE CUTTER'S CREW ......... 21 CHAPTER IV. A BLACK SQUALL .......... 82 CHAPTER V. A BRACE OF BRITISH OFFICERS ....... 38 CHAPTER VL A PAIR OF SPANISH SENORITAS ....... 48 CHAPTER VII. A COUPLE OF CALIFORNIAN "CABALLEROS" . . . C8 CHAPTER VIIL AN ENCOUNTER INEVTTARLE ..... . . 68 CHAPTER IX. A SHIP WITHOUT SAILORS ........ 82 CHAPTER X. A CHARTER-PARTY ......... 88 CHAPTER XL IN SEARCH OF A SECOND ..... ... 96 593678 LIBRARY 4 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XIL PAGE. A "PASEO DE CABALLO" 104 CHAPTER X1IL A "GOLPE DE CABALLO" . Ill CHAPTER XIV. "HASTA CADIZ!" .... . . . . 125 CHAPTER XV. ON PLEASURE BENT 127 CHAPTER XVL A TAB OF THE OLDEN TYPE 135 CHAPTER XVIL UNEXPECTED VISITORS 143 CHAPTER XVI1L AN INHOSPITABLE HOME . 150 CHAPTER XLX. THE "BANK" EL DORADO . . . . . . . .165 CHAPTER XX. A MONT* BANK IN FULL BLAST 161 CHAPTER XXL FIGHTING THE TIGEB . . 167, CHAPTER XXII. A PLUCKY "SPORT" 173 CHAPTER XXTTT. A SUPPER CARTE-BLANCHE 177 CHAPTER XXIV. HARRY BLEW HOMELESS 184 CHAPTER XXV. CRUSADERS TO THE RESCUE 193 CHAPTER XXVL IN FLIGHT . 199 CONTENTS. 5 CHAPTER XXVH. PAGE. A. CONVERSATION WITH ORANGS. ...... 210 CHAPTER XXVHL THE BLUE-PETER 217 CHAPTER XXIX. DREADING A DUEL 223 CHAPTER XXX. THE LAST LOOK . 229 ,ER A SOLEMN COMPACT CHAPTER XXXTT. "AMBRE LA PUEETA!" ........ 245 CHAPTER XXXIH. A SCRATCH CREW ... ....... 252 CHAPTER XXXIV. "ADIOS, CALIFORNIA!" ..... . 257 CHAPTER XXXV. A TATTOO THAT NEEDS RETOUCHING . ... 263 CHAPTER XXXVL A CREW THAT MEANS MUTINY ....... 270 CHAPTER XXXVH. Two "SYDNEY DUCKS" ........ 276 CHAPTER XXXVIH. PLOT UPON PLOT ...... .... 288 CHAPTER XXXIX. SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE ... ..... 295 CHAPTER XI* "LAND Ho!" ....... . . . .303 CHAPTER XLL PANAMA, OR SANTIAGO? ..... . . 311 6 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XT.TT. PACK. THE DREADED TINTOREBAS 319 CHAPTER XLm. THE BARK ABANDONED 328 CHAPTER XLTV. Two TARQUINS 333 CHAPTER XLV. OCEANWARDS 343 CHAPTER XLVI. AN AWKWARD QUESTION 348 CHAPTER XLVH. A DUEL ADJOURNED 309 CHAPTER XLVni. LONG SUFFERING , . . , , , , , , , 363 CHAPTER XUX. A CARD UNEXPECTEDLY RECOVERED . . ... . . 369 CHAPTER L. THE LAST LEAF IN THE Loo 374 CHAPTER LL STARVATION POINT ,381 CHAPTER LH. AN AVENGING NEMESIS 384 CHAPTER IHI. THE TABLES NEARLY TURNED ....... 394 CHAPTER LTV. A SAILOR'S TRUE YARN .... . . 401 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. CHAPTER I. A CHASE. IN mid-ocean, the Pacific. Two ships are within sight of one another, less than a league apart. Both are 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 it is ; a probabil- ity strengthened by the relative size and character of the ships. One is a bark, polacca-masted, her masts raking back with the acute shark' s-fin set supposed to be characteristic of the pirate. 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 an} 7 sea- man 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 "Union Jack" of England. If it be a chase, she is the pursuer. Her colora 7 8 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 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 is it 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 bark? There is no war between Great Britain and Chili, the most prosperous of the South American republics ; instead, peace-treaties, with relations of the most amicable kind. Were the polacca flying a flag of blood-red or black, with death's-head and cross-bones, the chase would be intelligible. But the bit of bunting at her masthead shows nothing on its field, either of menace or defiance. On the contrar}-, it appeals to pity, and asks for aid ; for it is an ensign reversed, in short, a signal of distress. And yet the ship showing it is scudding before a stiff breeze, with all sail set, stays taut, not a rope out of place ! Strange this. Just the thought of every one aboard the man-of-war, from the captain com- manding 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 chanjjino 1 O O course, as, when first espied, the stranger, like herself, was running before the wind. If slowly, the frigate has been gradually forging nearer the pursued vessel ; till at length the telescope tells her to be a bark, revealing, also, the ensign reversed. Nothing strange in this, of itself unfortunately, a A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 9 sight too common at sea. But that a vessel display- ing signals of distress should be carrying all sail, and running away, or attempting to run away, 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 acting, still is, sailing on down the Avind, without slacking halyards, or lessening her spread of canvas by a single inch. Certainly her behavior is unaccountable, more than strange : it is mysterious. To this conclusion have they come on board the war- ship, 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 the3 T have spoken two vessels, both of which reported this same bark, or one answer- ing 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, the}' could have thrown a rope to her ; that at first no one was seen aboard, but, on being hailed, two men made appearance, both springing up to the main shrouds, thence answering the hail in a language alto- gether 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 they clung on to the ratlines. And what surprised them equally with the 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 would have sent her boat aboard ; but the bark gave no chance for this, keeping 10 THE FLAG OP DISTRESS. 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 admit- ted 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 since spoken, a whaler, it seemed to receive full corrob- oration. The words sent through the whaler's trumpet were, "Bark sighted: latitude 10.22 S. ; longitude 95 W. 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. Bark a fast sailer. Went away down wind." Already in receipt of such intelligence, it is no won- der that the frigate's crew feel something more than mere surprise at sight of a vessel corresponding to that about which these strange tales have been told. For they are now near enough the bark to see that she answers the description given: " Polacca-masted. All sail set. Ensign reversed. Chilian." And her behavior is as reported, sailing awa}^ from those who wish to answer her appealing signal, to all appearance endeavoring 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 whaler, she is not a match for the man-of-war. Still she is no tub ; 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 A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 11 crew begin to doubt whether the strange craft will evei be overtaken. On the foredeck the tars stand in groups, mingled with marines, their eyes bent upon the retreating bark, pronouncing 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 ship is no ship at all, but a phantom. This fancy is gradually growing into a belief ; faster as they draw nearer, and with naked eye note her correspond- ence 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 to be spectres. While on the quarter-deck there is no such supersti- tious fancy : a feeling almost as intense agitates the minds of those there assembled. The captain, sur- rounded by his officers, stands, glass in hand, gazing at the sail ahead. The frigate, though a fine vessel, is not one of the fastest sailers ; 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 gradually declining, which is against her ; and for the last half-hour she has barely preserved her distance from the bark. 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 is there disappointment. " To no purpose, now," says her commander, as he sees 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 to be told this. The young- est reefer there, looking at sky and sea, can forecast *he calm. 12 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. In five minutes after, the frigate's sails are flapping against the masts, and her flag hangs half folded. In five more, the sails only show motion by an occasional clout ; while the bunting droops dead down- ward. Within the ten^W* her captain predicted, the huge war-ship, despite her extended canvas, lies motionless on the sea. A STOEY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 13 CHAPTER^gtef A CALL FOR BOARDERS. frigate is becalmed: what of the bark? _JL Has she been similarly checked in her course? The question is asked by all on board the war-ship, each seeking the answer for himself; for all are ear- nestly gazing at the strange sail, regardless of their own condition. Forward, the superstitious thought has become inten- sified into something like fear. A calm coming on so suddenly, just when they had hopes of soon, overhaul- ing the chased vessel what could that mean ? Old sailors shake their heads, refusing to make answer; while young ones, less cautious of speech, boldly pro- nounce the polacca 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 does she sail 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 keep on, and leave us a good spell behind," rejoins a second. " It was a foolish thing followin' her; and, for my part, I'll be glad if we never do catch up with her." " You need have no fear about that," says the fiist 2 14 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. speaker. "Just look! She's making way yet! I believe she can sail as well without wind as with it." Scarce are the words spoken, when, as if to contra- dict them, the sails of the chased vessel commence clouting against her masts ; while her flag falls folded, and is no longer distinguishable as a signal of distress, or aught else. The breeze that failed the frigate is now also dead around the bark, 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 look- ing through their levelled glasses. "Not anything, sir," replies the lieutenant, "ex- cept that she should be Chilian from her colors. I can't see a soul aboard of her. Ah, yonder ! Some- thing shows over the taffrail ! Looks like a man's head? It's ducked suddenly." A short silence succeeds, the commanding officer busied with his binocular, endeavoring to catch sight of the thing seen by his subordinate. It does not show again. " Odd," says the captain, resuming speech, " a ship running up signals of distress, at the same time refus- ing to be relieved very odd ! Isn't it, gentlemen ? ' ' ne asks, addressing himself to the group of officers now gathered around. Unanimous 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. Lieutenants and midshipmen seem all as puzzled as himself, mysti- fied by the strange bark, and more by her strange behavior. There are two who have thoughts different from the A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 15 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 au expression 6f something like anxiety. Slight, and scarcely observable, it is not noticed by their comrades standing around. It seems to deepen while they con- tinue to gaze at the becalmed bark, as though due to something seen there. Still they remain silent, keep- ing the dark thought, if such it be, to themselves. " Well, gentlemen," says the commanding officer to his assembled subordinates, " I must say this is singu- lar. In all my experience at sea, I don't remember any thing like it. What trick the Chilian bark 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 it, 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 suggestivety. "Forward, the}^'re quite superstitious about the character of the chase. Some of them fancy her the Flying Dutchman. When the boatswain pipes for boarders, tl^'ll very likely feel as if his whistle were a signal for them to walk the plank." The remark causes the captain to smile, as the other officers ; though two of the latter abstain from this exhibition of merriment. These are the third lieuten- ant and midshipman, already mentioned, on both of whose brows the cloud still sits, seeming darker than ever. " Isn't it strange," continues the commander mus- 16 THE FLAG OF DISTKESS. ingly, " that your genuine British tar, who will board an enemy's ship, crawling across the muzzle of a shotted gun ; who 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 those fellows by the forecastle are a bit shy about boarding this strange vessel. But let me show you how to send their shy- ness adrift. I shall do that with a single word." The captain steps forward, his subordinates following him. When within speaking-distance of the foredeck, he stops, and makes sign that he has something to say. The tars are all attention. "My lads!" he exclaims, "you see that bark we've been chasing, and at her masthead a flag re- versed, 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 to be lowered, and let the boatswain pipe for boarders. Only volunteers will be taken. Those who wish to go will 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 seems crowding towards the main-deck. Scores of volunteers present themselves, enough to man every boat aboard. " Now, 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 a fancied ghost." A second cheer succeeds the speech, mingled with ^^od-humored remarks, though not any loud laughter. The sailors simply acknowledge the compliment their A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 17 commanding officer has paid them, at the same iime 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 for boarding has got great- ly diminished. Still are there enough to man the largest boat in the ship. ' k What boat is it to be, sir?" This question is asked by the first lieutenant, as he follows the captain aft. "The cutter," answers his superior, adding, "I think, Mr. Black, there's no necessity for sending any other. The cutter's crew will be sufficient. As to any hostility from those on board the stranger, that is absurd. We could blow them out of the water with a single broadside." " Who's to command the cutter, sir?" The captain reflects, with a look sent 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 seamen ; though j-oung, capable of any duty, however delicate or dangerous. Without further hesitation, he assigns him to the command of the boarders. The young officer enters upon the service with alacrity, something more than the mere obedience due to discipline. He hastens to the ship's side to superintend the lowering of the boat. He does not stand at rest, but is seen to help and hurry it, with a look of anxious impatience in his eye, and the cloud still observable on his brow. While thus occupied, he is accosted by another officer, one yet younger than himself, the midshipman already mentioned. 18 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. " Can I go with j'ou? ' the latter asks. " Certain!}-, my clear fellow," responds the lieuten- ant in friendly familiar tone. " I shall be only too pleased to have you. But you must get the captain's consent." The young officer glides aft, sees the frigate's com- mander upon the quarter-deck, and, saluting, says, " Captain, may I go with the cutter?" " Well, }'es," responds the chief. " I have no objection." Then, after taking a survey of the jxnmg- ster, he adds, u Why do 3*011 want 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 is already lowered, and rests upon the water. Her crew is crowd- ing into her ; and she will soon be shoved off from the ship. " You can go, lad," assents the captain. " Report 3'ourself to the third lieutenant, and tell him I've 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 board- ing a ship in distress, where you'll be more likely to be a spectator of scenes of suffering. However, that will be a lesson for you, and therefore you may go." Thus authorized, the young reefer glides away from the quarter-deck, drops down into the boat, and takes his seat alongside the lieutenant, already there. The two ships 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, blown gently against their sails, forsook them. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 19 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 it proceeds, not from any stir in the air, but the mere balancing motion of the vessels ; for there is now not enough breeze blow- ing to flout the long feathers in the tail of the tropic bird seen soaring aloft. Both ships are motionless, their forms reflected in the water, so that each has its counterpart, keel to keel. Between them, the sea is smooth as a mirror, that tranquil calm which has given to the Pacific its dis- tinctive appellation. It is now to be disturbed, fur- rowed by the bow of the cutter, with her stroke of ten oars, five on each side. Almost as soon as down from the davits, her crew seated on the thwarts, and her cockswain at the tiller, the lieutenant gives the com- mand to *' shove off." Parting from the frigate's beam, the boat is steered straight for the becalmed bark. 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 color is crimson above, with blue and white under- neath, the reversed order of the Chilian ensign. Its single star is no longer visible, nor aught of its herald- ry, that spoke so appealingly. But, if the sight fails 20 THE FLAG OP DISTRESS. to furrm-h them with details, these are amply supplied by their excited imaginations. Some of them see men aboard the bark scores, hundreds! After all, she may be a pirate, and the upside-down ensign a decoy, On a tack, she may be a swifter sailer than she has shown herself before the wind, and, knowing this, has been but playing 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 truth, fancy the polacca a spectre. As they continue gazing, now at the boat, now at the bark, 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 see nought to give them a clew to her character ; only the loose-spread sails, and the furled flag of distress. They continue gazing till the cutter is close to the bark's beam. Nor yet can they observe any head above the bulwarks, or face peering through the shrouds. The fancy of the forecastle has crept aft among the officers. They, too, begin to feel something of super- stitious fear, an awe of the uncanny. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA 21 CHAPTER III. THE CUTTER'S CREW. MANNED by ten stout tars, with as many oars propelling her, the cutter cleaves the water like a knife. The lieutenant, seated in the stern-sheets, with the mid by his side, directs the movements of the boat ; while . the glances of both are kept constantly upon the bark. In their e}-es is an earnest expression, quite different from that of ordinary interrogation. The men may not observe it : if they do, it is with- out 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 bark, they cast occasional glances over their shoulders, in which curiosity is commingled with apprehension. Despite their natural courage, strengthened by the late appeal to their humanity, the awe is again upon them. Insidiously returning as they took their seats in the boat, it increases as they row farther from the ship, and nearer to the strange vessel. Less than half an hour has elapsed, and they are within a cable's length of the latter. " Hold, now ! " 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 bark. Glances go search- 22 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. ingly along her bulwarks, from poop to prow. No preparations to receive them ! No onn appears on deck, not a head seen over the rail ! " Bark, ahoy ! " hails the lieutenant. "Bark, ahoy!" is heard in fainter tone. It is no 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 than ever ; for the sailors in the boat have ceased talking, their awe, now intense, holding them speechless. "Bark, ahoy!" again shouts the lieutenant, louder than before, but with like result. As before, he is only answered by echo. There is either nobody aboard, or no one who thinks it worth while to make rejoinder. The first supposition seems absurd, look- ing at the sail ; the second, equally so, regarding the flag at the main ro3*al masthead, and taking into account its character. A third hail from the officer, this time vociferated in loudest voice, with the inter- rogatory added, "Any one aboard?" To the question no reply, any more than to the hail. Silence continues, stillness intense, awe-inspiring. They in the boat begin to doubt the evidence of their senses. Is there a bark before their eyes? Or is it all an illusion ? How can a vessel be under sa also the strip of sandy shore. 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 cockswain, who has remained in the stern-sheets, with the tiller- ropes held in hand. It is an order, with instructions about where and when he is to attend them for their return to the ship. " At the new wharf in the harbor," Crozier is heard to say ; for it is he who commands, on account of sen- iority in rank. His order given, the boat shoves off, and is rowed back toward the ship ; while the officers commence climbing the slope to get upon the shore-road. At the game time the horsemen are ascending from the oppo- site side. Soon both parties are again within view of those on the housetop ; but neither as yet sees the other, or has any suspicion of their mutual proximity. The crest of the ridge is still between ; and, 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 already 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, 76 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. shake the knots out of them, as the junior gleefullj 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 humor under restraint at sight of two heads appearing above the roof; 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, they are averted, the ladies looking aslant in another direction. Some chagrin in this, after all their grand caracol- ing and feats of equitation, that must have been wit- nessed by the fair spectators. At what are these now gazing ? Is it a ship sailing up the baj-, or something else on the water ? No matter what, and whether on land or water ; enough for the cavaliers to think they are being slightingly received. Disconcerted, they seek an explanation, mutually questioning one another. Before either can make answer in speech, both have it before their eyes, in the shape of two British naval officers. Like themselves, the latter have just reached the summit of the ridge, and are coming on towards Don Gregorio's gate. It is midway between ; and, keeping on at the same rate of speed, they will meet directly in front of it. Neither pair has ever set e}'es on the other before for all this, there is an expression on the faces of all four that tells of mutual surmises of no friendly nature. Calderon says to De Lara, sotto voce, " The English officers ! " A STOEY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 77 Cadwallader whispers to Crozier, " The fellows we've heard about, our rivals, Ned ; like ourselves, I sup> pose, going to visit the girls." De Lara makes no response to Calderon; neither does Crozier to Cadwallader; there is not time. They are all 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, silenc* on both sides ; not a word 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 through the gate. Their hesitation is not from any courtesy, but the reverse. The men on horseback look down on those afoot contemptuously, scornfully, threatening^, too, as if they thought 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 mid- shipman's dirk, both appearing 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 would 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 speech is one which passes from Crozier to Cadwallader, not in a whisper,, but aloud, and without regard to the effect it may have on the Calif ornians, 2* 78 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. " Come along, Will ! We've something Letter before us than stand shilly-shallying here. Heave after me, shipmate ! " Crozier's speech cuts the Gordian knot ; and the officers, gliding through the gateway, advance along the avenue. With faces now turned towards the house, the}* see the ladies still upon the azotea. Soon as near tnough for Carmen to see 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 plumage of a raven. The two upon the housetop 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 twin- ing over their toquillas, one chestnut-brown, the other golden-hued. Scarcely 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 has observed the affair of the tresses, and understood the symbolism of the act. Exasperated beyond bounds, he can no longer control himself, and cares not what may come. At his instigation, Calde- ron spurs on by his side, the two tearing furiously along. Their purpose is evident, to force the pedes- trians 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. He feels the power of possession, assured by those smiles that the citadel is theirs. It is for the outsiders to ttiake the assault. "Give a clear gangway, Will," he says, "and let A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 79 them pass. We can talk to the gentlemen after- wards. Both step back among the manzanita bushes ; and the ginete go galloping past; De Lara, on Crozier's side, scowling down, as if he would annihilate him with a look. The scowl is returned with interest, though the officer still reserves speech. On the other edge of the avenue, the action is a little different. The mid- shipman, 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, bounds to one side, and then shoots off at increased speed, still further heightened by the fierce exclamations of his rider, and the mocking laugh sent after him by the mid. Under the walls, the two horsemen come to a halt, neither having made much by their bit of rude bravadoism. And the}- 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 the 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 housetop ; for the ladies are still there, looking down. Saluting, he sa}'S, "Dona Carmen, can I have the honor of an interview ? ' ' The ladj' does not make immediate answer. A spec- tator of all that has passed, she observes the hostile 80 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. attitude between the two sets of visitors. To receive both at the same time will be more than embarrassing. With their passions roused to such a pitch of angei, it must end in a personal encounter. Her duty is clear. She is mistress of the house, representing her father in his absence. The young officers are there bj r invita- tion. At thought of this, she no longer hesitates. "Not now, Don Francisco de Lara," she says, an- swering his question ; ' ' not to-day. We must beg of you to excuse us." "Indeed!" rejoins he sneering!}'. "Will it be deemed discourteous in me to ask why we are denied?" It is discourteous, and so Dona Carmen deems it. Though she does not tell him as much in words, he can understand it from her reply. " 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 3*011 see are our guests. My father has invited them to spend the day with us." "Ah! 3*our father has invited them! How very good of Don Gregorio Montijo giving his hospitality to gringos I And Dona Carmen has added her entrea- ties, no doubt?" " Sir," saj-s Carmen, no longer able to conceal her indignation, "your speech is impertinent, insulting. I shall listen to it no longer." Saying this, she steps back, disappearing behind the parapet, where Inez has alread}' 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 A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 81 as if in a stupor. He is aroused from it by a voice, Crozier's, saying, "You appear anxious to make apol ogy to the lady : you can make it to me." " Carrai!" exclaims the Creole, starting, and glar- ing angrily at the speaker. " Who are you? " " One who demands an apology for your rude be havior." " You will 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 pasteboard are exchanged, after which Do Lara, casting another glance up to the azotea, where he sees nothing but blank wall, turns his horse's head, and, spitefully plying the spur, gallops back down the avenue, his comrade closely following. Calderon has not deemed it incumbent upon him to ask a card from Cadwallader ; nor has the latter thought it necessary to demand one from him. The mid is quite contented with what he has done with his dirk. The young officers enter the house in cheerful confi- dence that they have lost nothing by the encounter, and that those inside will still smilingly receive them. 82 THE FLAG OF DISTEESS. CHAPTER IX. A SHIP WITHOUT SAILORS. AMONG- the vessels lying in the harbor of San Francisco is one athwart whose stern may be read the name " El Condor." She is a ship of small size, some five or six hundred tons, devoted to peaceful commerce, as can be told by certain peculiarities of rig and structure understood by seamen. The name will suggest a South American nationality, Ecuadorian, Peruvian, Bolivian, or Chilian, since the bird after which she has been baptized is found in all these States. Columbia and the Argentine Confed- eration can also claim it. But there is no need to guess at the particular coun- try to which the craft in question belongs. The flag suspended over her taffrail declares it by a -symbolism intelligible to those who take an interest in national insignia. It is a tricolor, the orthodox and almost universal red, white, and blue ; not, as with the French, disposed vertical!} 7 , 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, with the disposition of colors, proclaiming the ship that carries them to be of Chili. She is not the only Chilian vessel in the harbor of A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 83 San Francisco. Several other craft are there that show the same colors, brigs, barks, schooners, and ships ; for the spirited little South Art.erican republic is as prosperous as enterprising, and its flag waves far and wide over the Pacific. With its population of skilled miners, it has been among the first of foreign States in sending a large representative force to cradle the gold of California. Not only aie its ships tying in the bay, but its guasos and gambusinos in goodly num- ber 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 sad 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 com- manding her sailors, since there are none aboard, hail- ing from Chili or elsewhere. Those who brought her into San Francisco Bay have abandoned her, gone off to the gold-diggings. Arriving in the heat of the placer-fever, the} 7 have preferred seeking fortune with pick, shovel, and pan, to handling tarry ropes at ten dollars a month. Almost on the instant of the " Con- dor's " dropping anchor, they deserted, to a man, leav- ing her skipper alone, with only the cook for a compan- ion. Neither is the latter Chilian, but African, a native of Zanzibar. Neither are the two great iu>n- keys observed gambolling about the deck; for the climate of Chili, lying outside the equatorial belt, is too cold for the quadrumana. Not much appearing upon the "Condor" would proclaim her a South American ship ; and nothing in her cargo, though a cargo she carries. She has just 84 THE FLAG OP DISTKESS. arrived from a trading-voyage to the South Sea Isles, extending to the Indian Archipelago, whence her lad- ing, a varied assortment, consisting of tortoise-shell, spices, mother-of pearl, Manila cigars, and such other commodities as may be collected among the Oriental islands. Hence, also, two large 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 con- signed to San Francisco ; and this has been long ago landed. The rest remains in her hold, awaiting trans- port to Valparaiso. How soon she may arrive there, or take departure from her present anchorage, is a ques- tion that even her captain cannot answer. If asked, he would most probably reply, " Quien sabe?" and, fur- ther 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 ruffle 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 thin, swarth features from the sun, he lounges all day long upon his quarter-deck, with elbows usually rested upon the capstan-head ; his sole occupation being to roll 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 take a turn at play with his pet monkeys. These are male and female, bo f h full of fun in their uncouth fashion ; and Capt. Lantanas takes it out of them by occasionally touo.hing their snouts with the lighted end of his ciga- A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 85 retlo. laughing to see them scamper off scared at the singular and somewhat painful effect of fire. His meals are served regularly three times a day ; and his cook, a negro, black as the tar upon the rat- line ropes, after having served them, returns to an idleness equalling his own. He, too, has his diveision with the orangs, approaching much nearer to them in physical appearance, and for this reason, perhaps, to them a more congenial plaj'mate. Once a day the skipper steps into his gig, and rows himself ashore, but not to search for sailors : ho 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 out-bound ship for a wage less than would make the voj'age unprofitable to her owners. As the Chilian skipper is not only master, but pro- prietor, 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 sefc. "When this may be, and the "Condor" shall have spread her canvas wings for a further flight to Valparaiso, he has not the remotest idea. He enters the town, but to meet other skippers with ships crew- less as his own, and exchange condolences on their common destitution. On a certain da}', 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 him a message. Although San Francisco is fast becoming transformed into an American city, and already has its several 86 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. newspapers, there is among them a small sheet printed in Spanish, by name "El Diario." In this Capt. Lantanas has advertised his vessel, open for freight or passage, bound for Valparaiso, and to call at interme- diate ports, Panama among the number. The adver- tisement directs reference to be made to a shipping- agent, b}^ name Don Tomas Silvestre. In answer to it, Capt. Lantanas has received a letter from a gentle- man who has already communicated with his agent, and who has promised to present himself on board the " Condor " by twelve meridian of this day. Although a stranger to the port of San Francisco, the Chilian skipper has some knowledge of his corre- spondent ; 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 wealth, a large 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 busi- ness to an} r 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 being absorbed in conjec- turing for what purpose his unknown correspondent may be seeking the interview. He is not without sur- mises, in which he is assisted by something he has heard while mixing in Spanish circles ashore, this, f hat the land-owner in question has lately sold his A STOKr OF THE SOUTH SEA. 8? land, realizing an immense sum, half a million dollars being rumored. Furthermore, that being a 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 several passen- gers. It may be on this very business his correspond- ent is coming aboard. Capt. Lantanas so interro- gates himself while standing upon his quarter-deck, and with the glowing coal of his cigarrito fending off his hairy familiars, who, in their play, at times intrude upon him. It pleases him to think he may have sur- mised correctly ; and, while still indulging in conjec- ture, he sees something which puts an end to it. This is 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." Capt. 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 question as to who it is : if he has, it is soon answered ; for the boat, touching the ship's side, is instantly made fast. The Californian mounts the man-ropes, and, stepping down upon the deck, hands Capt. Lantanas his card. He who has presented himself on the quarter-deck of the " Condor" 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 88 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. step, though not tottering, shows vigor 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 a long, flowing beard), is snow white. It could never have been very dark, but more likely of the color called sandy. This, with grayish-blue eyes, and features show- ing 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 Capt. LaD tanas is Don Gregorio Montijo. CHAPTER X. 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, Capt. Lantanas po- litely 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 ascend- ing the man-ropes, takes a moment's time to recover breath ; then, returning the skipper's bow, he interro- gates, " Capt. Lantanas, I presume? " " Si, senor," responds the master of the "Condor," with a bow of becoming humility to a man reputed so rich; then adding, "A dispocion de V" ("At your service.") A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 89 "Well, captain," rejoins Don Gregorio, "I shall take it for granted that you know who I am. Don Tomas Silvestrc has informed you, has he not?" " He has, senor." " And 3'ou've received rny letter? " " Si, senor." " That's all right, then. And now to proceed to th business that has brought me aboard j'our ship. Hav- ing seen your advertisement in the " Diario," I com- municated 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 directby with j-our- self, as the matter I have in hand is too important to be altogether intrusted to an agent. In short, it requires confidence, if not secrecy ; and from what I've heard of you, captain, I feel sure I can confide in }'ou." " You compliment me, Senor Montijo." " No, no ! nothing of the kind, I but speak from the impression Silvestre has given me of 3"our charac- ter. But now to business. Your ship is advertised for freight, or passage? " " Either, or both." "Bound for Valparaiso and intermediate ports? " " An}-where down the coast." " Have 3*ou an} T passengers already engaged? " " Not any as yet." " How many can you take? " ""Well, senor, to speak truth, my craft is not intended to cany passengers. She's a trading-vessel, as you see. But, if j-ou'll step down to the cabin, 3*011 can judge for 3'ourself. There's the saloon (not very large, it is true), and sleeping-accommodation for six, two snug state-rooms, that will serve, if need be, for ladies." 90 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. " That will do. Now about the freight. Don To- mas 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 an}' great bulk. Say it will take half a score of cubic feet : you can find stowage for that? '* " Oh, yes ! much more than that." " So far good. And 3*011 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 Seiior Montijo step into the 'Condor's' cabin, and see for himself? " "By all means." Capt. Lantanas leads down the stairway, his visitor following. The saloon is inspected ; after it the sleep- ing-rooms, right and left. " Just the thing," says Don Gregorio, speaking in soliloqu}*, and evidently satisfied. " It will do adrni- rabl}-," he adds, addressing himself to the skipper. " And now, Capt. Lantanas, 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 3*00, about a ton, with some trifling household effects and 'he three passengers, how much? " " The terms of freight, as you may be aware, are usualty rated according to the class of goods. Is it gold, Don Gregorio? From your description, I sup- pose it is." A STOHY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 91 The skippei 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. The ex-haciendado is by no means a niggardlj' 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, and in a private trad- ing-vessel, instead of by one of the regular liners 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 Capt. Lantanas, and knows the Chilian skipper 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 Gre- gorio, thus reflecting, confesses his freight to be gold, and asks the skipper to name his terms. Lantanas, after a moment spent in mental calcula- tion, sa}-s, " One thousand dollars for the freight, and a hundred each for the three passages. Will that suit you, seiior?" " It seems a large sum," rejoins the ex-liaciendado. " But I am aware prices are high just now : so I agre tD it. When will you be ready to sail? " " I am ready now, senor; that is, if " "If what?" 92 THE FLAG OP DISTRESS. The captain, remembering his crewless ship, does not make immediate answer. " If," says Don Gregorio, noticing his hesitation, and mistaking the reason " if you're calculating on any delay from me, you needn't. I can have every thing 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 3 - et knows he cannot name any certain time of sail- ing for the want of hands to work his ship. 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 almost 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 leave San Fran- cisco." "Clearance duties port dues to be paid. You want the passage-money advanced, I presume ? "Well, I shall not object to prepa}-ing it, in part. How much will you require ? ' ' 11 Mil grracias, Senor Montijo. It's not anything of that kind. Although far from rich, thank Heaven ! neither I nor my craft is under embargo. I could sail out of this harbor in half an hour, but for the want of" " Want of what? " asks the ex-Jiacier.dado, in some surprise. " Well, senor sailors." " What ! Have yo'u no sailors? " " I am sorry to say, not one." A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 93 " Well, Capt. Lantanas, I thought it strange that I observed nobody aboard your ship, except that black fellow. But I supposed your sailors had gone ashore." "So have they, senor and intend stajdng there. Alas ! that's the trouble. They've gone off to the gold-diggings, everyone 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 he might meet his old master ; for he has had one already." " How vexatious all this ! " says Don Gregorio. " T fear 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, Capt. Lantanas. As I have told you, I'm not here without knowing something of your- self. You have a friend in Don Tomas Silvestre ? ' ' " I believe I have the honor of Don Tomas' friend- ship." "Well, he has recommended you in such terms, that I can thoroughly rely upon yon : for that reason, I shall now make known why I wish to travel by your ship." The Chilian skipper bows thanks for the compliment, and silently awaits the proffered confidence. " I have just sold my property here, receiving for it three hundred thousand dollars in gold-dust, the same intended for your freight. It is now lying at my house, some three miles frcm town. As 3'ou must be aware, Capt. Lantanas, this place is at present the rendezvous of scoundrels collected from every country on the face 94 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. of the earth, 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 impa- tient to get away from the place ; which, under the cir- cumstances, you won't wonder at. And I am naturally anxious about my gold-dust. At any hour, a band of these lawless ruffians may take it into their heads to str'p me of it, or, at all events, attempt to do so. Therefore I wish to get it aboard a ship, one where it will be safe, and in whose captain I can thoroughly confide. Now, captain, you understand me? " " I do," is the simple response of the Chilian. He is about to add that Don Gregorio's gold, as also his secret, will be safe enough, so far as he can protect it, when the ex-haciendado 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 pos- sess some property. That, I intended doing anyhow ; but now I want to take my 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 ?s soon as possible. It is exceedingly awkward youi 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. Unfortunate!}*, most are worthless, drunken fellows. Still it is possible that a few good men might be found, were the wages made sufficient!}' tempting. No doubt, an advertisement in the " Diario," offering double pay, A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 95 might procure me as man} - hands as should he 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 such terms? " " /Si senor : they are perfectly satisfactory." "In that case I'll be answerable for the extra wages. Any thing to get away from this pandemonium of a place." " I think we shall have no great difficulty in getting sailors. You authorize me to advertise for them? " " I do," answers Don Gregorio. "Enough!" rejoins the skipper. "And now, senor, you may make }-our preparations for embarking." " I have 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 wa}-," adds the ex-haciendado, speaking sotto voce, " I wish to ship the gold as soon as possible, and without attracting any 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 an}-where else, since no one need be the wiser about the place of deposit." " No one shall, through me." " That I feel certain of, Seflor Lantanas. Don Tomas is your indorser, and would be willing to be your bondsman, were it needed ; which it is not." Again the " Condor's " captain bows in acknowledg- 96 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. ment 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 skipper lights a fresh cigarrito, and, with elbows rested on the capstan-head, resumes the attitude of insouciance -out of which he has been temporarily aroused. CHAPTER XI. IN SEARCH OF A SECOND. JUST about the time Don Gregorio is taking leave of Capt. Lantanas, the two unreceived visitors are turning their backs upon his house. De Lara feels the 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 unsatis- fied 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 d\velling whose hospitality has been denied him. He sees nought there to soothe, but something which still further afflicts him. Four horses are filing out through the front-gate, con- ducted by grooms. They are saddled, bridled, ready A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 97 for being mounted. To his practised eye, their capari- son tells that they are intended only for a short excur- sion, not a journey. And, though their saddles arc nearly alike, he knows that only two of them are to be mounted by men, the other two to cany ladies. The seuoritas are going out for a ride, a paseo de cawpo, accompanied by their English guests. Simultane- ously, as instinctively, the two Californians arrive at this conclusion. Now they know why they were not received ; a knowledge, which, instead of tranquillizing their chafed spirits, but maddens them the more. The thought of their sweethearts being escorted by their rivals, riding along wild unfrequented paths, through trees overshadowing, away from the presence of spy- ing domestics, or the interference of protecting rela- tives, 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 Frank Lara and Faustino Calderon bitter as deadliest poison. And reflection imbitters it the more. The excursion- ists will have every opportunit} 7 - 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 Doua Inez. Thus the}- will ride unmo- lested, unobserved ; converse without fear of being overheard, clasp hands without danger of being seen perhaps exchange kisses. Oh the dire, maddening jeal- ous} T ! Even the dull brain and cold heart of Calderon are fired by these reflections. They sting him to the quick, out 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 98 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 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 side, and dashes off down the hill, Calderon keeping after. At its bottom the}- again halt, being nowout of sight of the house. Facing toward his com- panion, Do Lara sa}*s, ""We're in for a fight, Faustino, both of us." " Not both. I don't think I'm called upon to chal- lenge that 3'oungster. 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 tvere a pig, and sending him off in a stampede that well-nigh dismounted you, all before the face of 3'our lady-love, right tinder her eyes ! You don't deem that an insult, eh ? " "But you must remember I gave him provocation. At 3'our instigation, I nearly 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 : when it was all over, 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, her eyes looking dis- dain at you, with her pretty lips pouting in scorn. You're evidently out of her good graces, and j-ou'U have to do something ere you can reinstate yourself." " Do you really think so?" "I'm sure of it. Never surer of any thing in my life." " But what would you have me do? " " You ought to know without asking me. Call out A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 99 the cub, and kill Mm if j*ou can. That's what I de- sign doing with my gentleman." "Ah! you're a dead shot; and that makes aL the difference. These Anglo-Saxons alwaj-s use pistols ; and, if I challenge him, he'll have the choice of weap- ons." " Quite true. With me it will be different. I took care to give the affront, and yon. should have done the same. Seeing you got the worst of it, j'ou 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 do 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 ac- customed 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 Brit- isher. 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. It will be mine to-morrow ; and, if my old 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 with out" 100 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. " Without what? Speak out, man ! " " Wh}*, without any spilling of blood. " "You may arrange that way, if yon like. Your quarrel is a distinct one, and I've nothing to do with it, having my own hands full. Indeed, if tlie} r wervi empty, I'm not so sure I should second }-our 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. 1 may fail in this 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 does. One or both of us shall stay there till we're carried off dead." " Carrambat j'our talk gives me the trembles. It's not pleasant to think of such a thing, let alone doing it." " Think your own way, and welcome. To me it would be less pleasant to leave it undone 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. Hone} 7 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 every thing. And, in this very city of San Francisco, I'd be only a hound where I'm now a hunter, barked at by ever}' cur, and kicked b}- every coward who chose to pick a quarrel with me." " There's no danger of that, Do Lara. All who A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 101 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 Calde- ron, I couldn't sit at a 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." "Who?" " Again you ask an idle question, so idle, that 1 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 for Carmen Montijo and her good opinion ; ,it least, so far that she sha'n't think me either fool or cowai'd. She may be fancying me the first ; but, if she does, she'll find herself mistaken. At all events, she'll get convinced that I'm not the last. And if it be as rumor 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, do you intend returning to propose to her ? " "I do; though not till we've finished this affair with the fellows who've interrupted us. 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?" 102 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. l * I'd rather not," replies the poltroon hesitatingly; " that is, if the thing can be arranged. Do j'ou think it can, De Lara? " "Of course, it can! your thing, as 3-011 call it, though not without disgrace to }'ou. You should fight him, Faustino." " "Well, if you say I should, wh}*, I suppose I must. I never fired a pistol in my life, and am onh" second- rate with the sword. I can handle a machete, or a cucJiilla, 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 such a claim. But I think }-ou underrate your skill with the small-sword. I've seen you doing very well with it 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. Above all, choose the sword for your weapon." " How can I, if I'm 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 likel}* before a late hour of the night. After returning from this 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 ma}- meet your man, and can insult him by giving him a cuff, spitting A (STOKY OF 0*HE SOUTH SEA. 103 in his face, any thing to put the onus of challenging upon him." " Par Dios! I'll do as you say." "That's right. Now let us think of what's before us. As we're 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 net 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 cockpit." " 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 as soon as the lamps are lighted. If I'm not, the bank will go begging, and we may lose our customers. Be- sides, 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 Cal- deron, after consulting his watch. " OiAy that ! Then we'll have plenty of time to get to the cock-fight, and witness a main. Don Manuel has a big bet on his pardo. I'd like to stake a doub- loon or two myself on that bird. Yes, on reflection, we'd better go ourselves. 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 104 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. take them to Punta Pedro. Their jealous anger stifl 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 XII. 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 Cal- ifornians 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 unin- habited. 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 rechristened San Francisco. This route De Lara and Calderon have taken, getting into it by a cross-cut ; and along it they contirue to ride, still at a gallop, with faces set for Dolores. They are not the only equestrians upon that A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 105 road. The dust kicked up by their horses' hoofs has just settled down, when a second party appears, going in the same direction, though in a gentler gait ; for it is a cavalcade composed partly of ladies. It is a quartet, two of each sex ; and, as the horses are the same already seen standing saddled in the courtyard of Don Gregorio, 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 cafoallo, includ- ing 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 the " lions." Like most Californian damsels, 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 strikes him with her cuarto. Much after the same fashion acts Inez ; for she, too, has learned the Californian st3-le of equitation. The two present a picture, that, to the e}*e unaccustomed to Mexican habits, might seem somewhat bizarre. Their mode of mount, as already said, d la Ducliesse de Berri, their half male attire, hats of vi9una wool, calzoncillas lace fringed over their feet, buff boots, and large row- 106 THE FLAG OF DTSTEESS. elled spurs all these give them an air of picturesque- ness. 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 color 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 prom- ises to terminate in a proposal for a longer journey together, through life, in pairs. They are thus rid- ing, Crozier alongside Carmen, Cadwallader with Inez. The officers are in their uniforms, a costume for equestrian exercise not quite ship-shape, as they would phrase it. On horseback in a naval uniform ! It would not do on an English road : the veriest coun- try lout would criticise it. But different in California, where all ride, gentle or simple, in dress of every conceivable cut and fashion, with no fear of ridicule therefor. None need attach to that of Edward Crozier. His rank has furnished him with a frockcoat, which, well fitting, gives a handsome contour to his person. Besides, he is a splendid horseman, has hunted in the shires before he ever set foot aboard a ship. Carmen Montijo perceives this. She can tell it with half a glance. And it pleases her to reflect that her escort- ing cavalier is equal to the occasion. She believe? him equal to any thing. With the other pair, the circumstances are slightly different. "Willie Cadwallader is no rider, 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 aboard ship, looks a little A STOKY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 107 . outre in a saddlfe , especially upon a prancing Califor- nian steed. Does it make the young Welshman feel ridiculous? Not a bit. H3 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 throw- ing 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, de- lighted with 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 there he would be brave, heroic ; among ropes the most skilled of reefers ; and, if he cannot gracefully sit a horse, 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 red-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 more to behold it. Away from it now ; and on to that hill from which they can descrv the Pacific. 108 THE FLAG OF D1STKESS. In another hour they have reined up on its top, and behold the great South Sea, stretching to far hori- zon's verge, to the limit of their vision. Before them all is azure and beautiful ; only some specks in the dim distance, the lory isles of the Farralones. More northerly, and not sc far off, the "Seal" rock, and that called de Campana from its arcade hollowed out by the wash of waves, bearing resemblance to the belfry of a church. Nearer, a long line of breakers, foam crested, and, nearer still, the strip of stony be*ch, 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 them ; that ridden by Crozier hav- ing 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 pair- ing 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 two pairs apart, giving priority to those who by their j-ears 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 3'oung officer. " Oh, very soon ! My father is already making ar- 'angements, and expects we shall go away in a week, A STORY OP THE SOUTH SEA. 10'9 if not less. Indeed, he has this day been to see about taking passage for us to Panama. That's why he was not at home to receive you ; leaving me to do the honors of the house, and apologize for his seeming rudeness." For that, certes, no apology was needed ; and Crozier is silent, not knowing what next to say. Love, re- puted eloquent, is often the reverse, and, though open- ing the lips of a landsman, will shut those of men who follow the sea. There is a modesty about the latter unfelt by the former, especially 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, "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 like California, and could live in it all my life. Couldn't you?" " Under certain circumstances, I could." " But you like it, don't you? " " I do now. In ten days from this time I shall no longer care for it." " Why do you say that, Don Eduardo? There's an enigma in }-our words. Please explain them." While asking the question, her gray-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 con- tains the fairest object on earth, to me the dearest, since it is the woman I love. In te.n days, or less, by her own showing, she will be away from it : why should 10 11.0 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. I care for it then? Now, Dona Carmen, I've given you the key to what you have called an enigma." "Not quite. But perhaps you will pardon a wo- man's curiosity, if I ask the name of the lady who thus controls your likes and dislikes as regard our dear California." Crozier hesitates, a red spot starting out upon his cheek. He is about to pronounce a name, perhaps adding 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. That ques- tion, asked so quaintly, yet so impressively surely it courted the answer he intends giving it. 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 honor do not ! To you, and I now 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 both, coming closer, 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 past ; and, with hearts quivering in sweet content, they turn their thoughts to the future, full of pleasant promise. A STOKY OF THE SOUTH SEA. Ill 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 spoken in jest. For all, in real earnest, and so ending, as may be inferred from the j'oung "Welsh- man'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 an- chor. Will you be mine, and marry me? " "I will." No need to stay longer there, no object in continu- ing to gaze over the ocean. The horses seem instinc- tively to understand this, and, turning together, set heads for home. CHAPTER xrrr. A "GOLPE DE CABALLO." T I ^IIE bright Californian sun is declining towards JL the crest of the Coast Range, when two horse- men, coming from the Pacific side, commence ascend- ing 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 colors 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 112 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. in truth it is they, returning from the pelea de gallos at Punta Pedro. They have seen Diaz, and arranged every thing about the duel. Faustino has finally de^ termined upon fight. Instigated b}* his more coura- geous confederate, and with further pressing on the part of Diaz, a sort of Californian bravo, his cour- age has been at length screwed up to the necessary pitch, and kept there by the potent spirit of Catalan brandy, found freely circulating around the cock-pit. A flask of this he has brought away with him, at in- tervals taking a pull from it as he rides along the road. Under its influence he has become quite valiant,' and swe^te, that, 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 to escape from being the challenger. Carrai / he will do as De Lara has recommended, cuff the young officer, kick him, spit in his face, any thing to provoke the gringo to a fight : that yellow-haired cub without a bigote or beard ! And, if the cur won't fight, then he shall apologize ; get down upon his knees, acknowledge him, Faustino Calderon, the better man, and forever after surrender nil claim to the smiles, as to the hand, of Inez Alvarez. With this swaggering talk he entertains his compan- ion as the two are returning to town. De Lara, less noisy, is, nevertheless, also excited. The fiery Catalo- nian spirit 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 hou:s have since elapsed, and for the first three he has been brooding over his humiliation, his spirit prostrate in the dust. But the alcohol has again raised it to a pitch of exaltation, especially A STORY OF THE SO1 T TH SEA. 113 when lie 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 Caldcron, 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, the}* talk alternately, both giv- ing vent to their spleen, the man of courage as the coward. If not so loud or boastingly as his compan- ion, 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 has the English officer at his ra- pier's point, he will show him no mere}*, but run him through without the slightest compunction. In vain ma}' 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 shows him 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 roofs, reflected red in the rays of the set- ting sun, De Lara, suddenly remembering the pressure 10* 114 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 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, the} r 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 Cali- fornians, a rough, swarth}'-skiuned 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 pescador; though judging by his general appearance, and the sinister cast of his coun- tenance, 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 st3 - le of his salu- tation showing it. It is with De Lara, however, his business lies, as signified by his saj-ing, "I want a word with you, Don Francisco." " "What is it, Rocas? Any thing about seal-skins? " asks the Creole, 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 Faus- tino" "Oh!" interrupts the ganadero, "don't let me stand in the way. I'll ride slowly on: you can over- take me, Don Francisco." A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 115 " Do," say 3 De Lara, at the same time stooping down iu his saddle, and continuing the conversation with Rocas, in tone so low as to prevent their speech being overheard by two queer-looking customers, who have just stepped out of the tinacdl, and stand loiter- ing 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 pro- claims that the revelation made to him is not only important, as he has been forewarned, but also very pleasing. Their muttered dialogue is of brief dura- tion, but ends with a speech which shows it to be only preliminary to a further conference. " I shall be with you to-morrow, by mid-dajr." It is De Lara who has said this ; after which, adding, l 'Adios, Don Rafael! Hasta manana!" he gives his horse the spur, and gallops to overtake his travel- ling-companion ; Rooas sauntering back towards the tavern. On coming up with the ganadero, De Lara rides on silentl}' by his side, without showing any desire to sat- isfy Calderon's curiosity. He but piques it by saying that Rocas has made a communication of an intensely interesting kind, which he will impart to him, Faus- tino, in due time ; but now there are other matters of quite as much 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 some 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 perhapa 116 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. the first man we meet will be your yellow - haired rival." Scarcely have the words passed De Lara's lips, when something in front fixes their attention. At some dis- tance 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. Ptying 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 destina- tion ; for, despite the enshrouding dust, they have no difficulty in identifying those who are 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 him- self, cries out, " Carajo! it's they returning from their excursion ; paired off as I supposed they would be. Now, Calderon, you have your chance sooner than you expected and without seeking; a lucky omen. There's your rival riding by the side of your sweet- heart, 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 fresh affront to mine." He draws rein, bringing his horse to a halt. Cal- deron does the same. Scanning the equestrians ahead, they see them two and two, the pairs some ten or twelve paces apart. Crozier and Carmen are in the advance ; Cadwallader and Inez behind. De Lara looks no x , at the latter couple : his eyes are all upon A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 117 the former, s.taring with fixed intensity, full of jealous fiie, with a glare such as only a tiger might give, as he sees Carmen turn towards her escorting cavalier, and bend over, he to her, till their heads are close together, and their lips seem to meet. " Carrait they are kissing! " exclaims the Creole, in a tone of bitter exasperation. He can bear it no longer. With a shout, half angry, half anguished, he digs his spur deep, and dashes forward. The clattering of hoofs behind first warns Cadwalla- der, who is nearest to the noise ; for, up to this time, the lovers, absorbed in sweet converse, dream not of danger behind. 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 i.3 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 a horse, but in earnest, to be buried in the body of a man, if need be. This resolve can be read in his atti- tude, in his eyes, in his features ; these no longer bent in a laugh of reckless boyhood, but in the rigid, resolute determination of manhood. Badlj 7 as he sits his horse, it will not do now to dash against him. The collision might cost life, in all likelihood, that of the aggressor. De Lara sweeps past him without a word, without even taking notice of him. His affair is with one far- ther on. But now Calderon is coming up, clearly with the intent to assault, as shown in his eyes. Suddenly, how- ever, their expression changes at sight of the bared blade, that diabolical dirk. Despite the pull he has just taken from tli3 flask, his courage fails him ; and 118 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 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 very differ- ent 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 cdballo, 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 enem}*, 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 floundering in the dust beside him. Regaining his feet, the Californian 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 and its companion. Disarmed, his glitter- ing attire dust-bedaubed, De Lara stands in the middle of the road, irresolute, discomfited, conquered. He can do nothing now, save storm and threaten, inter- larding his threats with curses " Carajos!" spite- fully pronounced. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 119 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 at it, Crozier, in serious tone, says, "Mr. De Lara, for your card tells me that is your name, take a sail- or'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-irons. These I shall take care of myself, and may return them 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 remount their horses, and trot off to rejoin the ladies. Having overtaken these, they continue their home- ward ride, with no fear of its being again interrupted by a golpe de caballo. 120 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. CHAPTER XIV. "HASTA CADIZ! " ON leaving Capt. Lantanas, Don Gregorio returns to his house, though not direct. He has busi- ness to transact in the town, which sta} r s 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 intimately acquainted with Silvestre, who is, like himself, a Peninsular Spaniard, and a Bisca3-an. 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 char- acters, men who would stick at nothing. Don Tomas knows this without being told. The thought haunts the haciendado like a spectre, that he will have his treasure taken from him b} r theft, burglary, or bold, open robbery. He has good reason for so thinking. 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 A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 121 of ihe States, 'scape-the-gallows customers from every, quarter of the globe, to say nothing of the native ban- dits, of which California has its share. If known to these that gold-dust 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 it 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 the natural inference oeing that the cash must be deposited somewhere. And every one well knows it must 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 has tried to convert it thus, as more convenient for carriage and safety, but failed. In fine, after confiding his fears to Silves- tre, and taking counsel from him, he decides upon the plan already in part communicated to Capt. Lantanas of having the endangered gold-dust secretly con- veyed to the "Condor" as soon as possible. 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 Gre- gorio' 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 every thing is settled ; for they spend not many minutes in discussing the matter. The 11 122 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. dado 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 h'orse that brought him to town, he rides hastity home. On arrival there, he retires to l?is sleeping-apartment, where he spends the remainder of the day, and gives orders not to be called till the party of equestrians come 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 the 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 re-arranges it in the most convenient form for carriage to the "Condor," 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 sa^Man-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, and, gliding into the corridor, fling their arms around Don Oregorio's neck; daughter and grand-daughter alike styling him " papa." They are effusively affectionate, A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 123 moiv than usually so; for this night both have a favor 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 him- self to sanction it. In both cases, he is prepared to do so ; for he is not unacquainted with the character and social standing of those seeking an alliance with him. He has been aboard the British frigate, and from Capt. Bracebridge obtained information on these points, satisfactory in every sense. Both the young officers bear an excellent character. 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 ; Cad- wallader moderately rich, Crozier in prospect of great wealth ; either of them fit mate for the proudest senora in Spain. His reason for supposing that on this day engagements have been entered into, is, that the 3'oung officers are about to take departure from the port. The " Crusader " is under admiralty orders to sail for the Sandwich Islands as soon as a corvette coming thence reaches San Francisco. Capt. Bracebridge has been commissioned by the British Government to transact some diplomatic business with King Kame-Kameha; that done, he is to look in at Mazatlan, Acapulco, and some other Mexican ports, as also 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 con- veniently renewed on the other side of the Atlantic. At dinner, which is served soon after, and in sump- 124 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. tuous style. Don Gregorio makes his guests aware of the fact that he has secured passages for Panama, and may leave San Francisco as soon as the}*. He confides to them the secret of his having chartered the Chilian ship ; in short, telling them all he has told her skip- per, echoing the lament made by the latter about his difficulty in obtaining a crew. "Perhaps," rejoins Crozier, after hearing this, "I can help him to at least one good sailor. Do you think, Will," te 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 ' Crusader ' only the day before yesterdajr, having a shake hands with his old com- rades of the forecastle." " Who is the Senor Bloo? " asks the Jiaciendado. " A true British tar, if you know what that means, Don Gregorio, lately belonging to our ship, and one of the best sailors on her 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 I might persuade him to bear a hand on the craft you speak of. It was once Harry's sinister luck to slip overboard in the harbor of Guaymas, dropping almost into the jaws of a tintorero shark, and my good for- tune to be able to rescue him out of his perilous plight. He's not the man to be ungrateful ; and, if still in San Francisco, I think you may count upon him for taking service on board the Chilian ship. True, he's only one, but worth two ; ay, ten. He not only knows a ship, but, on a pinch, could take a lunar, and make good any port in the Pacific." A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 125 " A most valuable man ! " exclaims Dou Gregorio : " would be worth his weight in gold to Capt. Lanta- nas. 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 ship-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 busi- ness. It's but a poor little shed on the r.ho;e, near the new pier, lately constructed. Indeed, 1 u^life^e he sleeps there ; house-rent being at pieseut .something fabulous." "This will do," sa} T s Crozier, putting the card into his pocket. "If Harry Blew can be iound, he'll not be far from Silvestre's office, if not vo-night, by early daybreak to-morrow morning." It is not the custom of either Sj/aniards 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 Ximenez, and the gentlemen also retire ; not for business, but recreation out of doors, so pleasant in southern climes. Dona Carmen with 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, while emptying their last glass together, he has been approached by the young officers on that 11* 126 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 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 diffi- cult} r in finding a word for it graudfather-in-law of the other. To both he has given the same answer, " Yes." No wonder, that, with bright faces and bound- ing step, they spring up to the housetop, there to rejoin the senoritas. Their tale told to the latter who have been await- ing 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 azotea. They con- verse 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. The 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, so assuring to their sweethearts, that both believe them in vincible,, in- vulnerable. What woman is there who does not think the same of him who holds her heart? Time passes : the last moments speed silently in the old, old ecstasy of all-absorbing, tale-telling love. Then the inevitable "AdiosI" though sounding less harshly by favor of the added plu-ase, " Hasta. Cadiz I " [" Till we meet at Cadiz ! "] A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 127 CHAPTER XV. ON PLEASURE BENT. THE clocks of San Francisco are striking the hour of ten. The moon has shot up over Monte Di- ablo, and sends her soft, mellow beams across the waters of the bay, imparting to their placid surface the sheen of silver. The forms of the ships anchored upon it are reflected as from a mirror, with masts upside down, eveiy spar, stay, and brace, even to the most delicate rope of their rigging, having its duplicated representa- tive 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 that ride at an- chor in the offing, not even the rattle of a chain drop- ping or heaving an anchor, the chant of a night-watch at the windlass, or the song of some jovial tar entertain- ing his messmates as they sit squatted around the fore- castle stair. Unusual this silence at such an early hour, though easily accounted for. That there are but few noises from the ships in San Francisco Bay is ex- plained by the fact of their having but few men to make them ; in many cases there being not a single soul aboard. All have deserted, either for good, and are gone off to the " digging ; " or only for the night, to take part i t the pleasures and dissipations of the 128 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. town. Now and then a boat may be seen patting off from 01 returning to the side of some of those better manned, by its laborious movement, and the unmeas- ured stroke of oars, telling that even it lacks a full complement of crew. Inside the town every thing is different. There, there are 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 com- menced its nightly career, or, rather, reached its full flush ; since in San Francisco certain kinds of it are carried on openly, and throughout all the hours of 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 of all kinds reigns paramount. 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 great 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, the}- return to San Francisco to scatter in a single night oft in one hour the hoarded gather- ings of half a year. Into this pandemonium of a city are about to enter two personages of very different appearance from those usualty seen loitering in its saloons, or hastening through its streets ; for they are the young officers belonging to the British frigate, Edward Crozier and "William Cad- wallader, 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 tough wooden wharves recently erected. They are A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 129 advancing along the shore-road afoot, having declined their host's offer of horses, both saying they would prefer to walk ; Cadwallacler adding, in sailor phrase, that he wished to " kick the knots out of his legs," a remark but obscurely comprehensible to Don Gre- gorio. For some time after leaving his house, not a word passes between them. Each is occupied with his own thoughts, the sacredness of which keeps him silent, absorbed in reflections springing from that ten- der but painful parting with others, about what may be before them in the far uncertain future. For a time nothing intrudes upon their revery, to disturb its nat- ural course. The sough of the tidal surf breaking upon the beach, the occasional cry of a straying sea- bird, or the more continuous and monotonous note of the chuck- will's- widow, do not attract their attention. They are sounds in consonance with their reflections, 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 con- versation. 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 cir- cus. 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 joining the ' Crusader,' something to talk about when we get aboard." 130 THE FLAG OP DISTRESS. " 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 swords or pistols. It feels like getting into a row with roughs in some slum of a seaport." "You're right there; and, as to calling this fellow out, I'd do nothing of the kind, Ned. He's a bad lot : so is the other. Blackguards both, as their behavior has shown them: they don't deserve to be treated aa gentlemen." " But we're in California, "Will, where the code of the duel takes in such as they. I suppose even here thieves and cut-throats talk about protecting their honor, 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 misdemeanor, who not only went, but actually killed the fellow 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 enough, 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? " 4 'Why, in the way of revanche: for my part, I A STOKY OP THE SOUTH SEA. 131 should decidedly say you had far the best of it. After your first encounter in the morning, I thought differ- ently, and would have so counselled you. Then the insult offered you was 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 Califor- nian bravo ; and, if we hadn't secured his pistols, I suppose he'd have done some shooting with them. "Well, we'll see whether he comes to reclaim them. If he don't, I shall have to send them to him. Other- wise, 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 ap- propriate ending to our day's fun." "Quite the contrary. It might be serious, if it should reach the ears of Bracebridge. The old disci- plinarian would never believe but that we'd been in the wrong, taken the fellow's pistols from him for a lark, or something of the sort. True, we could have the thing explained, both to the San Franciscan magis- trate, and the frigate's captain, but not without an exposure of names and circumstances, that, though it might be appropriate enough, would be any thing 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. Those 132 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. sweet Spanish wines of Don Gregorio have made m thirsty as a fish. Besides, parting with my dear Inez ha? got my heart down ; and I need something to get 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 vtar : therefore let's end it with another w, wine." "For my part," responds the j'oung "Welshman, " I'd prefer a different article, which has the other w for its initial letter : that's whiskey. If we could only get a glass of good Scotch or Irish malt in this mush- room 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 comes to the rescue." " Well, you'll soon have an opportunity of getting that. As you see, we're 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 favorite whiskey, and mine, ' Bass's Bitter.' " "Again the Spanish saw, ' Cada uno a su gusto,' as just now my sweetheart said. 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 every thing 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 A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 133 word. The old salt is any thing but ungrateful In- deed, his regard for 3*ou, ever since you saved him from that shark, is more like real gratitude than any thing I ever saw. He fairly worships you, Ned. He told me the day before he left the ' Crusader,' that parting with yon was the only thing that greatly grieved him. I saw the tears trickling down his cheeks as you shook hands with him over the side. 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 favor, 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, be- sides, in my opinion, answering his purpose far better than any gold-seeking 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 rivers, 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. Ho 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 for life, if he likes, with better prospects than he could even have had on board a man-o'-war. The question is, how we shall be able to find him in this rookery of a 12 134 THE FLAG OP DISTRESS. place. Did he say any thing, when you saw him, about where he was sojourning? " " By Jove ! he just did. Now I recall our conver- sation, I remember him telling me that he was staj-ing at a sort of 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 ; for I told the cockswain 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 n^-self." " Well, we may never again get such a chance. In- deed, it's not likely we shall either of us be allowed another night ashore before the ' Crusader ' sails ; there- fore, 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 daj r , and stand in need of changing our tune." " You're right about that ; but the music is not like- ly to be made by moonlight not much of it. See those great clouds rolling up yonder ! They'll be over the sky in ten minutes' time, making every thing 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, whiskey punches at the Parker." "And after that?" " The tallies, if you feel so inclined." " Surely, Ned, you don't want to go gambling? " " I want to see life in San Francisco, an I've said j A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 135 and, as you know, gambling's an important part of it. Yes ; I don't mind making an attempt to draw the teeth of the tiger. Allans ! or, as I should say in the softer language of Andalusia, Nos vamoa ' " 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. CHAPTEE XVI. A TAR OF THE OLDEN TYPE. HARRY BLEW is a tar of the true man-o'-war type, this of the olden time, when sailors were sailors, and ships were of oak, not iron. Such ships are scarce now ; but scarcer still the skilled men who handled their ropes, and kept every thing taut and trim : in short, the true sailors. Than Harry, a finer speci- men 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-colored ; of somewhat lighter tint on Sundays, after they have had their hebdomadal shave. His face '.s round, with features fairly regular, and of a cheerful cast, their cheerfulness heightened by the sparkle of bright gray e}*es, and two rows of sound white teeth, frequently, if not continuously, set in a smile. A thick shock of curling brown hair, with a well- greased ringlet drooping down over each eyebrow., 136 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. supports a round-rimmed, blue-ribboned hat, set well aback on his head. His shaven chin is pointed and prominent, with a dimple below the lip ; while the beardless jaws curve smooth!} 7 down to a well-shaped neck, symmetrically set upon broad shoulders, that give token of strength almost herculean. Notwith- standing 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, not so plainly exposed, 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 sus- picion 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 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 often 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 was he 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. The girl on his breast in dark blue is a merely mythical personage, though A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 137 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 thirt}" of which he has passed upon the sea ; being off it only in short spells, while his ship has been in port. And he has seen ser- vice on several ships, 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 }"ard 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 sinew} 7 , with thighs that seem all muscle 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 non-promotion has been due to independence of spirit, or, shaping it in his own phraseology, owing to his " not having boot-licked the swabs above him." And there is some truth in this, though another reason might be assigned by those disposed to speak slighting- ly of him, that, although liking salt water, he has a decided antipathy to that which is fresh, unless whf-n 12* 138 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. taken with an admixture of rum ; then he is too fon 1 of it. It is his only fault, barring which, a better man than Harry Blew and, when sober, a steadier never trod the deck of a 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 dropped 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. Tak- ing into consideration the state of things in San Francisco just at this ver}' time, it is not strange that he 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, 3'ielding to it, he took a last leave of his old shipmates, was pulled ashore, and has since been sojourning at the Sailor's Home ; for he is still there, as Cadwallader rightly surmised. The Sailor's Home is a hostlery half eating-house, half drinking-saloon of somewhat unpretentious appearance; being a rough, weather-boarded house, without planing or paint, and only two stories in height. But if low in structure, it is high enough in its charges, as Harry Blew has learned ; these being out of all proportion to the outside appearance of the place and its interior accommodation, though in keep- ing with the prices of all other like houses of entertain- ment in San Francisco. 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 u spree, for A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 139 which twelve months' pay, received from the frigate's purser at leaving, had amply provided him. Then he would start for the Feather River, or some other tribu- tary stream of the Sacramento. The first part of this programme has been already carried out, with some- thing besides ; that something being the complete expenditure of all his pay, every shilling he received from the purser, and in an incredibly short space of time. He has 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. Since landing, Harry 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 has searched in his sea-chest, and every other receptacle where he has been accustomed to carry cash, with simi- lar 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 any thing but himself : in short, he 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 the want of cash to continue it ; credit being declined 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 chil'Jy night, within a rough weather-boarded room, or under 140 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. the }*et 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 sleep- ing in a stall, with straw litter for conch, and the heat of the horses in lieu of coverlet. In the necessity of seeking some such indifferent ac- commodation, Hany Blew finds himself, on the seventh night after having received his discharge from the ' ' Cru- sader." 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 to the gold-diggers. But how to get off, and then? These are separate ques- tions, 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. He has not a shilling, not a red cent ; and his sea-kit sold would not realize a sum sufficient to pay his fare, even 3 it (the kit) were free. But it is not : on the con- tra^, embargoed, quodded, by the keeper of the Sail- or's Home, against a couple of da}'s of unpaid board and lodging, with sundry imbibings across the counter, still scored on the slate. The discharged man-o'-war's-man sees himself in a dread 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. This has been bad enough for Harry Blew, even though but 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, A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 141 He has discovered that his English guest is impecuni- ous ; this by the two days' board, and as many nights' bed, remaining unpaid. There is a notice conspicu- ously posted above the bar, that " scores must be set- tled daily." And Harry Blew, having disregarded this, has received private but positive notice of anothei 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 occupjang. 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 who have seen 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 sony to think he has expended his cash so freely, a little repentant at hav- ing done it so foolishly, and, on the whole, a good deal down-hearted. But there is a silver lining to the cloud. The " Cru- sader" 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 ques- tion ; 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 every body aboard ; returning to a ding} T forecastle, to toil, and the handling of tarry ropes, after the bright dreams he has been indulging in ; to forego the gathering of 142 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. gold-dust, and the exchanging it for doubloons or dol- lars : 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 throughout the rest of his life. While the sovereigns were still clinking in his pock- ets, this was the dark side of the picture ; towards Sacramento, the bright one. Now that the pockets are empty, every thing seems changed, and the silver lining 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 eying him with any thing but a sympathetic air ; for the book is before him, showing that indebted- ness 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 a hospitality hitherto scant enough. The sailor thinks. Must he surrender? give up his dreams of fingering yellow gold, and return to handling black ropes? A glance at the grim, unre- laxed, 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. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 143 *' Wi* me, I see, the old sayin's to stan' good, 'Once a sailor, still a sailor.' Harry, you'll steer back for the ' Crusader.' " CHAPTER XVII. UNEXPECTED 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 land- lord of the Sailor's Home, nor his representative, who would be only too glad to get rid of a guest with two da}'s' 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 deem 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 sea-chest behind him. On this condition they would be willing to wipe out the debt, both board- ing 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 the kit. Or he can, in all likelihood, collect the money 144 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. among his old messmates. Not for this reason only is he anxious to reach the ship that night, but because he has no other chance of having an}" place to sleep in, eave the street. Both landlord and bar-keeper have notified him, in plain terms, that he must peremptorily leave ; and he is about to act upon their notification, and take his departure, when prevented, as already said. What has hindered him from going out of the "Home" is a man coming into it; or, rather, two; since two shadows have suddenty darkened the door, and are projected across the sanded floor of the bar- room. Not like shadows in the 63-68 of Hany Blew, but streaks of brightest sunlight ; for, in the individuals entering, he recogni/es two of his officers, one of them his best friend, and the preserver of his life. Crozier and Cadwallader have found him. At sight of them, the discharged sailor salutes promptly, and with as much respect as if it were on the quarter-deck of the "Crusader," but with much more demonstration ; for their well-timed appearance draws from him an exclamation of joy. Jerking off his straw bat, and giving a twitch to one of his brow- locks, he bobs his head several times in succession, with a simultaneous backscrape 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 lighted; and Crozier, while crossing its threshold, not at once recog- nizing him, called out the question, " Is there a sailor staj-ing here, by name Hany Blew? " "Ay, ay, sir ! " was the prompt response ; the sailor himself giving it, along with the salutation described. A STOBY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 145 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 to his throat. The sight of his patron, the preserver of his life, is like having it saved a second time. Perhaps the}' 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 boj r ," 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 hadn'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's plenty o' gold in the diggin's, it takes gold to get there ; and, as I ha' n't an}-, I'm laid up here like an old hulk foul o' a mud-bank. That's just how it is, gen- tlemen." "In which case, perhaps you mightn't feel indisposed to go to sea again ? ' ' " Just the thing I war thinkin' o', Master Edward. I'd a'most made up my mind to it, sir, an' war 'bout startin' to try to get aboard the old ' Crusader,' and askin' your honor to ha' my name entered on her books again. I'm willin' to join for a fresh term, if the} r 'll take me." " They'd take and be glad to get you, Harry, you may be sure of that. Such a skilled sailor as you neei never be without a ship, where there's a Brit'sh 13 146 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. man-of-war within bailing-distance ; but we don't want you to join tbe ' Crusader.' ' " How is tbat, sir?" "Because we can belp 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 j'our strength away in front of a galley-fire. You must do better than that ; and it chances I'm authorized 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 dif- ference to you ? ' ' "Not a doit, sir! I don't care what the ship's colors 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 three times a day." " No doubt you'll get it as often as you've a mind. But, Hariy, 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. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SLA. 147 Cadwallader. We both want you. to be on your best behavior during the trip you're to take in her. On board will be two Iad3 r -passengers as far as Panama ; for the ship is bound thither, and for other ports beyond, I believe as far as Valparaiso. But the ladies are to ^and at Panama ; and, so long as they're with you, you must do every thing 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 honors!" replies the sailor, showing surprise. " Sure, ye needn't 'a put sich questin to me, a British man-o'-war's-man!. I'd do that much, any- how, out o' sheer starn sense o' duty. But when it come to takin' care o' two ladies, to say nothin' about theer bein' so young, an' so beautiful" " Avast, Harry ! How do you know they are either one or the other ? ' ' asks Crozier, surprised ; Cadwalla- der repeating the question. "Lor love ye, masters! Do ye think a common sailor ha'n't no eyes in his head for any thin' but ropes an' tar? You forget I wur o' the boat's crew as rowed two sweet creeturs on board the ' Crusader,' the night o' the grand dancin', an' arterward took the same ashore, along wi' two young gentlemen as went to see 'em home. Sure, sirs, actin' cocks'n on that occasion, I wouldn't help hearin' some o' the speeches as passed in the starn-sheets, though they wur spoke in the ears o' the saynoritas, soft as the breeze that fanned their fait cheeks, an' brought the color out on 'em red as Rib- sting pippins." "Avast again, you rascal! So you've been eaves- 148 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. dropping, have you? I quite forgot } r ou understood Spanish." " Only a trifle, Master Ed'ard." " Too much for that occasion." "Ah, well, your honor! it may stand me in stead aboard the ship you speak o'." " Well, Harry, I'm not going to scold you, seeing that you couldn't help hearing what 3 r ou did. And now I may as well tell you that the j'oung ladies you saw that night in the boat are the same who are to be 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 any injury, '11 have to tear the whole o' his off the head o' Hariy Blew. I'll see 'em safe to Panama, or never show there myself. I promise that ; an' I think both your honors'll take the word o' a British man-o'-war's-man." ."That's enough. Now to give you the necessary directions about joining this ship. She's Ij'ing at anchor somewhere about in the bay ; but you'll find her easily enough. And you. needn't go in search of her till you've seen the gentleman whose name and address are upon this card. You see, ' Don Tomas Silvcstre,' a ship-agent, whose office is down in one of the streets by the strand. Report yourself to him iirst thing in the morning. In all likelihood, he'll en- gage 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, Hariy, if 3-011 apply soon enough, it's good as certain you'll be made first mate ; all the more from your being able to speak Spanish. It's too late for you to do any thing about it to-night ; A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 149 out don't oversleep yourself. Be at the ship-agent's to-morrow, betimes." " Ye can trust me for that, sir. I'll show my figure- head there first thing in the mornin' ; an' I an't afeerd o' no one gettin' aboard 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 ' Cru- sader' 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." "Ay, 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 part; but let's hope we'll me^t again. When you get back to England, you know where to find me. Now good-b}-. Give us a grip of your hon- est hand, and God bless you ! " Saj-ing 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 a 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 1 to continue their cruise through the streets. 150 THE FLAG OF DISTEESS. CHAPTER AN INHOSPITABLE HOME. 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 their lowest and darkest. But the prospect of treble or quadruple pay on board a snug ship, though it be a trad ing- vessel, with the additional chance of being mate instead of foremast-man, has given them a fillip, not only return- ing them to their ordinary condition, but raising them to their highest and brightest. 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 alread} 7 , 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 well-being of Carmen Montijo, for Harry has been made acquainted with her name, as also that of Inez Alvarez ; and to be intrusted with a sort of guardianship over the 3'oung girls is a proud thought to the ex-man-o'-war's-man. To carry out the confidence reposed in him will be a labor of love ; and he Vows in his heart it shall be done, if need be at the risk of life. ludeed, the inter- A STORY OF THE SOOTH SEA. 151 s ow 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 life, or, at all events, till he has seen his charge the two senori- tas safe landed at Panama, and the Chilian ship snug in the harbor of Valparaiso. After that, he is less sure that he may not again go upon a big spree. Heaving a sigh as the young 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 morn- ing, 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 spirit. He has still before him the undetermined question, where he is to sleep. Notwithstanding his fine prospects for the future, the present is yet unchanged. Unfortunately he did not think of this while the young officers were with him, else a word would have made all well. Either of them, he doubted not, would have relieved his necessi- ties, had they been but told of them. Too late now: they are gone out of sight, out of hail, and whither he cannot tell or guess. To attempt searching for them in such crowded streets would be onty a waste of time. While thus ruefully reflecting, he is confronted by the bar-keeper, whose countenance is now beset with smiles. The follow 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 famil- iarity, " I guess j'ou've got the shiners now, an' kin settle up 3'our score ? ' ' " No, indeed, sir ! " answers Harry, more than ever taken aback. " I'm sorry to say I hain't-" 152 . THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. " And 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." u Much good their finikin fineness seem 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 inquisitive- ness, 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 man, they won't pay your board-bill." " I know that," returns the sailor, 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." "I'll pay for them first thing in the mornin'." " You'fl 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, bars, beds, and all, if we'd only such customers as you. So the sooner you walk off, the better the' landlord' 11 like it. He's jest gin me orders to tell ye clear out." " It' u gallows hard, master," says Harry, heaving a sigh, " the more so as I've got the promise of a good berth 'board a ship that's down in the harbor. The gentlemen you seed have just been to tell me about it.* A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 153 " Then why didn't they give you the money to clear 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 get there. But, come ! it's no use shillyshallyin' any longer. The landlord won't like it. He's given his orders sharp : Pay, or go."- " Well, I suppose I must go." "You must; an,' as I've 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 "refreshments," and tossed down a couple of dollars to pay for them. Harry Blew turns towards the door, and, without saying another word, steps out into the street. Once there, he does not stop, or stand hesitating. The hos- pitality of the so-called " Home" has proved a sorry sham ; and, indignant at the shabby treatment re- ceived, he is but too glad to get away from the place. All his life used to snug quarters in a fine ship's fore- castle, with every thing found for' 'him, he has never before experienced the pang of having no place to sleep. He not only feels it now in all its unpleasant- ness, but fancies the passers-by can perceive his humiliation. Haunted by this fancy, urged on by it, he hurries his steps ; nor stays them till out of sight of the Sailor's Home, out of the street in which the inhospitable tavern stands. He even disliked the idea of having to go back for his chest, which, however, he must some time do. 154 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. Meanwhile, what is to become of him for the remain- der of that night? Where is he to obtain supper and a bed ? About the latter he cares the least ; but, having had no dinner, 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 un- happy mood he strays on along the street. There is no lack of food before his eyes, almost within touching of his hand, but only to tantalize, 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 s&vory joints, in the act of being set upon tables surrounded by guests seeming hungry as himself, but otherwise better off. He, too, might enter 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 entering 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. Still the double ques- tion recurs: Where is he to get supper? and where sleep? Now, as ever, is he out of sorts with him- self for 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 was too late now for regrets. By this time, in all likelihood, they have started back to their ship. How he wished himself aboard the " Crusad- er "! How happy he would feel in her forecastle, among his old shipmates ! It cannot be ; and there- A STOKY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 155 fore it is idl3 to think of it. What on earth is he to do? A thought strikes him. He thinks of the ship- agent whose card Crozier left with him, and which he has thrust into his coat-pocket. He draws it out, and holds it up to a street-lamp, to make himself acquainted with the ship-agent's address. The name he remem- bers, 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 the office of Don Tomas Silvestre. CHAPTER XIX. THE "BANK" EL DORADO. A MONTE bank in the city of San Francisco, in the establishment ycleped "El Dorado," part drinldng-house, the other part devoted to gambling on the grandest scale. The two are carried on simulta- neously, and in the same room, an oblong saloon big enough for both. The portion of it devoted to Bac- chus is at one end, that farthest from the entrance- 156 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 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 adminis- tered by half a dozen bar-keepers 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, occupj'ing 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. They 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 broad- cloth, with certain crossing-lines traced upon it ; that of the faro table having the full suit 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 Soto. They are essentially card-games, and altogether of chance, just as is the throwing of dice. In the El Dorado there are other modes to get rid of money, or make it if chance so decides, a rare eventuality, save in the case of the. professional gam- blers themselves. In one corner of the saloon may be seen a roulette-table ; in another, a backgammon-board, A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 157 with dice-boxes and cubes appertaining, not used for the simple, innocent game which the .light leathern case with its checkered cover represents, but in the dead, naked casting of dice ; doubloons or dollars changing hands at every throw. Other gambling con- trivances 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 as simple as tossing "heads or tails" making it possible for the veriest greenhorn to take part in it, with as much chance of success as the oldest habitue. Originally Mexican, in California and other "Western States it has become thoroughly Americanized. 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-colored pieces of ivory, the " checks " 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 cards. Around the table's edge, and in front of each pla}*er, is his own private pile, usually a mixture of doubloons, dollars, and ivor}* checks, 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 time (1849) most of it un- minted, and in its crude state, as it came out of the 158 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. mine, or the river mud. By the croupier's hand is a pair of scales with weights appertaining ; their pur- pose, to ascertain the value of such little gold packages as are placed upon the cards, this only needed to be known when the bank is loser. Otherwise, they are ruthlessly raked in alongside the other deposits, with- out 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 w.ith measured slow- ness. 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 he does by drawing in, or push- ing out, the coins and checks, with the nimbleness of a prestidigitateur. Old bets are re-arranged, new ones made, and the dealing proceeds. Around the tables sit or stand the players, exhibit- ing a variety of facial types and national costumes. For there you may see not only human specimens of every known nationalit}', but of every rank in the social scale, with the callings and professions that ap- pertain to it, an assemblage such as is rarely, if ever, seen elsewhere. Gentlemen who may have won uni- versity honors ; 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 or doctors, in sober black ; even judges, that same morning 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-be- daubed boots, with sailors in pea-jackets of coarse A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 159 pilot, or Guernsey smocks, unwashed, unkempt, un- shorn, not only mingling with, but jostled by them, rudely if occasion call. All are on 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 an expression of hun- gry cupidity, fixed as if stamped into their features. No sign of hilarity or joyfulness, not a word of badi- nage passing about or between, scarce a syllable spoken, save the call-words of the game, or an occa- sional remark by the croupier, explanatory of some disputed point about the placing or payment of stakes. And if there be little light humor, 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 behavior rare. Either shown would be resented, and soon silenced, though, perhaps, not till after some" noises of still louder nature, the excited, angry clamor 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 } r et in an instant it will all be over. The game- sters, temporarily attracted from the tables, will return to them ; the dealing of the cards will be resumed ; and midst the chinking of coin, and the rattling of checks, 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 tne saloons of San Francisco. Although the El Dorado is owned by a single indi- 160 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. vidual, that is only as regards the house itself, witb the drinking-bar and its appurtenances. The gam- bling-tables are under separate and distinct proprietor- ship ; 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 ahead}' stated, the owner of such a concern is him- self generally 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 like ma} 7 be met with all over the United States, but more frequently in those of the South and South-west. The Mississippi Valley is his congenial coursing-ground, and its two great metro- politan cities, New Orleans and St. Louis, his chief centres of operation ; Natchez, Memphis, Vicksburg, Louisville, and Cincinnati being places provincial, which he only honors 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 dia- monds upon his finger that sparkles like a 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, has a sense of honor q~aite as high, perhaps higher than had either. A STOKY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 101 CHAPTER XX. A MONTE BANK IN FULL BLAST. IN the saloon El Dorado, as already said, thus 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 mtistached ; 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, that show sullen, if not sinister. These, like his hair, are coal-black in color, though he rarely raises their lids ; his gaze being habitually fixed on the cards held in his hands. Once only has he looked up and around, on hearing a name pronounced, 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 tiie sphinx, one watching him closely could see that there 14* 162 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. is something in Ms 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 j-et 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 spare 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 black broadcloth. He lays his bets, staking large sums, apparently indifferent as to the result; while at the same time eying the deposits of the other players with eager, nervous anxiet}', as though their losses and gains concerned him more than his own, the former, to all appearance, gladdening him ; the latter troubling him. His behavior 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, this eccentric individual ever and anon turns his eye upon the dealer ; its expression at such times* being A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 163 that of intense earnestness, with something that resem- bles reproof, as though annoyed by the latter handling his cards so carelessly, and would sharply rebuke him, if he could get the opportunity without being observed ; the secret of the whole matter being, that he is a sleep- ing-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 win- ning or losing is all the same to him) , and his anxiety about those of the general circle of plaj-ers. His part- nership 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. The}' 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, " Soto" 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 alter- cation 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 if it were a pair of snuffers on their tra} r , or one of the ordinary implements of the game, all know well enough that he who keeps this standing symbol of menace before their eyes is prepared to use it on 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 164 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. skirmishers in advance of the main arm}-, firing stray shots from pieces of light calibre. Now the heavy artillery has come up, the ranks have filled, and the files become doubled around the different tables ; two rows of players, in places three, engaging in the game. And instead of silver dollars, gold eagles and doub- loons the last being the great guns are flung dowu 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 Ei 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 but- tons ; 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, fur- ther than, as Crozier said, to "have a shot at the tiger." Besides, as they have been told, a night in San Francisco would not be complete without a look iu at El Dorado. Soon as inside the saloon, they step towards its drinking-bar, Crozier saying, " Come, Cad, let's da some sparkling." A STORY OF THE .SOUTH SEA. 165 " All right," responds the descendant of the Cymri, his face alreacty 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- keeper, 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, relaxing his hauteur, condescends to serve them. While drinking the champagne, the young officers direct their eyes towards that part of the saloon occu- pied by the gamesters. They see several clusters of men collected around tables, some sitting, others stand- Ing. 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 pla}-. 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 dis tance of the table. Those already around it are not men to be pushed rudely apart, or make way for a 166 THE FLAG OF DISTBESS. couple of youngsters, however fine their appearance, or impatient their manner. In the circle are officers of far higher rank than they, though belonging to a dif ferent 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 infatuated 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 slipu Crozier, Cadwallader pressing in alongside of him. Gradually they squeeze nearer and nearer, till they are ciose to the table's edge. Having at length attained 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 inter- rupted. The two turn towards one another with eyes, attitude, every thing, expressing not only surprise, but stark, speech-depriving astonishment ; for on the oppo- site 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, A. STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 107 his rival of the morning ; while at the same instant Cadwallader has caught sight of Ms rival, the suitor of Inez Alvarez. CHAPTER XXI. FIGHTING THE T I G E E. AT sight of De Lara and Calderon, the young offi- cers stand speechless, as if suddenly struck dumb ; for a pang has shot through their hearts, bitter as a poisoned shaft. Crozier feels it the keenest, since it is an affair that most concerns him. The suitor of Carmen Montijo a " sport," a common gambler ! Fa- vored, or not, still an aspirant to her hand ; though it were chagrin enough to think of such a man being even on terms of acquaintance with her. Cadwallader is less affected, though he, too, feels it. For although Calde- ron is in the circle of outside players, apparently a simple wagerer, 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 English officers ; though for some time neither sa3 T s a word, their looks alone communi- cating to each other what both bitterty feel. Fortu- nately, their surprise is not noticed b} r the players ai'ound the table. Each is engrossed in his own play, and gives but a glance at the new-comers, whose naval 168 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. uniforms are not the only ones there. But there are two who take note of them in a more particular man- ner : 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 appear- ance, unobserved ; or, if so, it is attributed to some trifling cause, as anno}*ance 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 placidit}'. The young officers, having recovered from their first .shock of astonishment, also have 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 sajing, " "We'll talk of it when we get aboard ship. That's the place for sailors to take counsel to- gether, with a clear head, such as we 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?" " You'll soon see. But, if you insist upon it, Fll give you a little preliminary explanation." "Yes, do. Perhaps I can help you." 44 No, you can't. There's only one who can." A STORY OP THE SOUTH SEA. 169 ' Who is he?" " It's not a he, but a she, the Goddess of Fortune. I intend soliciting her favors. 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 calcu- lations 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 Soto 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 checks 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 15 170 TELE FLAG OP DISTRESS. can take the note. I place it on the Queen, against the Knave." Tht croupier, simply nodding assent, places the note on the Queen. During the interregnum in which this little incident occurs, the English officers, hitherto scarce noticed, are lnoadly stared at, and closely scrutinized, Ciozier be- coming 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 checks?" asks the croupier, addressing himself to Crozier, after settling the smaller bets. " Or shall I pay you in specie? " "You needn't pay 3*et. Let the note lie. Only cover it with a like amount. I go it double, and again upon the Queen." Stakes are relaid ; some changed ; others left stand- ing or doubled, as Crozier' s, which is now a bet for two hundred pounds. On goes the game, the pieces of smooth pasteboard slipping silently from the jewelled fir gers of the dealer, whose eye is bent upon the cards, as if he saw through them, or would if he could. Whatever his wish, he has no" power to change the chances. If he have any professional tricks, there is xio opportunity for him to practise them. There are A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 171 too man}' eyes looking on, too man} 7 pistols and bowie- knives around, too many men ready to stop any at- tempt at cheating, and punish it if attempted. Again he is compelled to call out, ' ' Caballo en la puerta mozo I " u Now, sir," says the croupier to Crozier, after set- tling other scores, "you want your money, I sup- pose?" " Not yet. I'm not pressed ; and I can afford to wait a little longer. 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 betters ; for, now that the luck seems to be running with the English officer, 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 sixteen hundred pounds sterling upon the card ; while the others, thoroughly assured that his luck is on the run, double theirs, till the bets against the bank run up to many thousands. De Lara begins to look anxious, and not a little down-hearted. Still more anxious, and lower in heart, appears one seated on the opposite side, Calderon ; for it is his money that is moving away from him. 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 in- action. The dealer seems inclined to discontinue ; for 172 TITE FLAG OP DISTRESS. 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 disma}*, almost every- body 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 through- out the saloon ; for many from the other tables, as all the saunterers, have collected around, 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 wrung reluctantly from the lips of the monte dealer ; for it is again a verdict adverse to the bank: "Caballo en la puerta mozol" 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, " Gen- tlemen, I'm sorry to tell 3"ou the bank's broke! " A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 173 CHAPTER XXH. A PLUCKY "SPORT." THE BANK'S BROKE. Three words that 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 the monte table, spring to their feet, as if their chairs had suddenly become converted into iron at a 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 sur- prise ; others look incredulous ; while not a few give evidence of anger. For an instant there is silence ; the surprise, the incredulity, the anger, having sus- pended speech this throughout the saloon; for all, bar-drinkers as well as gamesters, have caught the last three words spoken by De Lara, and thoroughly under- stand their import. No longer is heard the chink of ivory checks, or the metallic ring of doubloons and dollars ; no longer the thudding-down of decanters, nor the jingle of glasses. Instead, a stillness so pro- found, that one entering at this moment might fancy it a Quaker's meeting, but for the symbols seen around ; these, any thing but Quakerish. Easier to conceive it a, grand gambling-hell represented in wax-work. The silence is of the shortest, as also the immo- bility of the figures composing the different group, 15* 174 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. only for a half-score seconds ; then there is noise enough, with no end of gesticulation. A roar arises that resounds through the room ; while men rush about wildly, madty, as if in the court-yard of a lunatic asy- lum. Some show anger, those who are losers by the breaking of the bank. Many have won large bets ; the stakes still lying on the table, which they know will not be paid. The croupier has told them so, con- fessing his cash-box cleared out at the last settlement ; even this having been effected with the now useless ivory checks. 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 be- lieve there is good cause for the suspension, and insist upon being paid in full. The}- 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. a No, gentlemen!" he protests, with a sardonic sneer; "not that, if 3-011 please not yet. First hear me ; and then 'twill be time for 3*ou to strike." " What have 3'ou to sa3*?" demands one, with his fists full of ivor3 r counters, the protested checks. " 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 sa3's this with emphasis, and an air of sullen determination, that has its effect upon his ques- tioners, even the most importunate. For a time, it their talk, as well as action. Seeing this, he A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 175 follows it up with further speech, but more concilia- tory. "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 nat- ural 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 t\> 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, if you like, for short. I can be found here, or an}'where 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 the table. Yes, gentlemen, any of you who'd like 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 }'ou 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 ex- press their admiration of his pluck, but challenge him to an encounter of drinks, not pistols. Turning to- wards the bar, they vociferate, ' Champagne ! " Contented with the turn things have taken, and proui at the volley of invitations, De Lara accepts ; and soo^ the vintage of France is seen effervescin^ from a dozen tall glasses ; and the monte dealer stands drinking in the midst of his admirers. Other groups diaw up to the bar-counter; while twos and solitary tipplers fill the spaces between. The temple of For- tuna is for a time deserted ; her worshippers transfer- 176 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. ring their devotion to the shrine of Bacchus. The losers drink to drown disappointment ; while the win- ners quaff cups in the exhilaration of success. If a bad night for the bank, it is a good one for the bar. Decanters are quickly emptied, and bottles of many kinds go " down among the dead men." The excitement in the saloon is soon over. Occur- rences of like kind often of more tragical termina- tion are too common in California to cause an} T long- sustained interest. Within the hour will arise some new event, equall}' stirring, leaving the old to live only in the recollection of those who have been active par- ticipants in it. So with the breaking of Frank Lara's bank. A stranger entering the saloon an hour after, from what he there sees, cannot tell that an incident of so serious nature has occurred ; for in less than this time the same monte table is again surrounded by gamesters, as if its pla}- 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 needed 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 number, 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 inter- ests of the place. De Lara too, and Calderon. witl A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 177 other confederates, have forsaken the saloon. But whither gone no one knows, or seems to care ; for the fortunes of a fallen man soon cease to interest men who are themselves madly struggling to mount up. CHAPTER XXIII. A SUPPER CARTE-BLANCHE. ON parting from the El Dorado, Crozier and Cad- wallader do not go directly aboard the " Cru- sader." 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 half-hour, there will be time for them to see a little more of San Franciscan life, perhaps the last chance they may have during their stay in the port. 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 fraternized ; and it is agreed they shall all sup together. Crozier has invited the Americans to a repast the most recherche, as it is 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, be- sides the English money .with which he entered the El Dorado, he has brought thousands of dollars out of it, 178 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. which would have been more, had all the ivory checks been honored. As it is, his pockets are filled with notes and gold, as also those of Cadwallader, who helps him to carry the coin. 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' donke3's, " jokingly remarks Cadwallader, as they proceed towards the Parker. A private room is engaged ; and, according to prom- ise, 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- eide 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 of 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 Pagan- dom, 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 the 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, unfortu- nately, 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 compan} r , they A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA 179 prepare to depart. They have forsaken the isupper- 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 bee^i quaffed, the carousal is not deemed complete without a last " statutory " drink, taken standing at the bar. Giving way to the Calif ornian custom, the officers range themselves along the marble slab, bending over which, the polite bar-keeper asks, " What is it to be, gentle- men?" There is a moment of hesitation : the gentlemen already well wined scarce know what to call for. Crozier cuts the Gordian knot by proposing, " A round of punches a la JRomaine ! ' ' Universal assent to this delectable drink ; as all know, just the thing for a nightcap. Soon the cooling beverage, compounded with snow from the Sierra Ne- vada, appears upon the counter, in huge glasses, piled high with the sparkling crystals, a spoon surmount- ing each ; for punch a la Romaine is not to be drunk, but eaten. Shovelling it down in haste, adieus are exchanged by a hearty shaking of hands, when the American officers go off, leaving Crozier and Cadwalla- der in the saloon. These only stay 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, tt soon becomes concentrated on a group seen at some di stance 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, 180 THE FtJkQ OP DISTRESS. besides being the most popular place of resort in Sun 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. They who compose the party that has attracted the attention of the English officers show nothing particu- lar ; that is, to the eye of one unacquainted with them. There are four of them ; two wearing broad- cloth 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 slotich- ingly on their heads, with their cloaks and serapes drawn up around their throats, Crozier and Cadwalla- der have not only seen, but recognized 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 frier .ds from the El Dorado!" " By Jove ! them, sure enough. Do }'ou think they're following us? " A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 181 " I shouldn't wonder. I was only surpr/sed they didn't do something when they had us in their gam- bling 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 hav- ing been so free of it in the morning. Instead, he and his friend seem to have studiously avoided coming near us, not even casting a look in our direction. That rather puzzles me." " It needn't. After what you gave him, I should think he'd 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 1 saw him presiding over a 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 honor ! " "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 cori-ect code." 4 'That he won't: at least, I don't think he will. From the wa}* the four 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." 10 182 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. " 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 one of Mr. De Lara's shooting-irons." " I have it that way. Never fear. Wouldn't it be a good joke if I have to give the fellow a pill out r f one of his own pistols? " " 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 they're concocting some scheme, which we'll soon know all about likely be- fore leaving the room. Certainly they're up to some- thing." "Four hundred and ninety dollars, gentlemen!" The financial statement is made by the bar-keeper, pre- senting the bill. " There! " cries Crozier, flinging down a five-hun- dred-dollar-bill. " Let that settle it. You can keep the change for yourself. ' ' "Thank j*e," dry ly responds the Calif brnian dispens- er 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 waa oeing receipted. " 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 A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 183 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, Cro- zier starts towards the door, his companion following, as directed. Both sally out, and for a while stand gaz- ing 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 Crozier, as, in his nature, giving way to a gen- erous 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 chal- lenging 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, the senior officer 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 vrines, and punches o la Romaine. 184 THE FLAG OP DISTRESS. CHAPTER XXIV. HARRY BLEW HOMELESS. WHILE the exciting scene described as taking place in the El Dorado was at its height, Harry Blew went past the door. Could the sailor have seen through walls, he would have entered the saloon. 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 a spree, and knowing the dangers of such in San Fran- cisco, 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 opportu- nities back again ; and, instead of continuing to wan- der hungry through the streets, the sailor 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 A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 185 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 the ship-agent, which he knows to be in the street fronting the water. As San Fran- cisco is not like an old seaport, where house-room is cheap and abundant, but every foot of roof-shelter utilized by night as by day, there is a chance the office may still be open. In all probability the 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 port. Tacking from corner to corner, now and then hitch- ing up his trousers to give freer play to his feet, he at length comes out upon the street which fronts towards 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 takes him a considerable time to find it. Along the water's edge the houses arc ir- regularly placed, and numbered with like irregularity. Besides, there is scarce any light. The night has be- come dark, with a sky densely clouded ; and the street- lamps, burning whale-oil, are dim, and at Ipng 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 the side-post. ie 186 THE FLAG OF DISTEESS. 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 bedroom. Still it has room enough to admit of a man's lying at full-length along its floor ; and, as alreadj' 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 ex- pected ! The test does not satisfy him, and 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 an} r 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, " Ambre la puerta ! " Neither to the question nor the 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 an}-, 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, with no definite point to steer for, he makes short tacks and turns, like a ship sailing under an unfavorable wind, or as one disregard- ing the guidance of the compass, without steersman at lie wheel. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 187 Aftei beating about for nearly another hour, he dis~ cov r ers himself again 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 forecastle. It can't be. The man-of-war is anchored more than two miles off. Strong swimmer though he knows himself to be, it is too far. Besides, a fog has suddenly sprung up, overspreading the bay ; so that the ship is hidden from his sight. Even those lying close inshore 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. Down-hearted, 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 great Pacific currentj coming from latitudes farther north, rolls in through the Golden Gate, bringing with it fogs that spread themselves over the estuary inside. Although not frost} 7 , 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 around, his eye rests upon a boat which lies bottom upward on the beach. It is an old ship's launch that has bilged, and either been abandoned a& 188 THE FLAG OP DISTRESS. useless, or upturned to receive repairs. No matter what its histoty, it offers him the hospitality so scurvity refused by 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 clown in big clouting drops. This deciding him, he creeps under the capsized launch, and lays himself at full-length along the shingle. The spot upon which he 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, distin- guishable as human voices, men engaged in conver- sation. 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 an excited, ear- nest tone, so loud that he can hear even- word they say, though the speakers are invisible to him. The capsized boat fs not so flush with the sand as to pre vent him from seeing the lower part of their legs, from below 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 bottom 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. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 180 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 heai'd the j'ounger 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 ? " " No knowing " this from the voice of a third in- dividual. " They may stay to take another copita, or half a dozen. These Ingleses 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 Calderon. " Of course ! We must, for our own sakes. 'Twould be madness not, even if we could get the money with- out 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 eseape, he'd have the police after us like hounds upon a trail. Even if they shouldn't recognize us now, they'd be sure t6 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 tliemt " 190 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 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 the 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 tack 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 some reluc- tance ; 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 banker and his confederates. What is he to do ? How can he save the doomed men. Both are armed. Crozier has his swoii ; Cadwallader, his dirk. Besides, they have pis- tols, as he saw while they were talking to him at the Sailor's Home. But then they are to be taken un- awares, 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 A STOKY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 191 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 freel} 7 , as he gathers from what the ruffians have said. 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 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 re cumbent attitude one inch. 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 flits across his brain, but is instantly abandoned. They 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 vic- tim to those already doomed to death. What is he io do? For the third time he asks himself this question, still unable to answer it. While painfully cogitating, his brain laboring to grasp some feasible plan of de- fence 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 posi- tion here. Thej r 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." 192 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. ""Where could we be better? I don't see. Tho shadow of this old boat favors 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 at his head, or the same number of poniards pointing to his ribs. It is a moment of vivid anxiety, a crisis, dread, terrible, almost agonizing. 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 ! 3*onder'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. Come ! ' ' No one objecting, the four figures start away from the side of the boat, and, gliding silently as spectres across the strip of sandy beach, disappear within the dark shadow of the wall. A 8TOBY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 193 CHAPTER XXV. v CRUSADERS TO THE RESCUE. WrfAT am I to do? It is the ex-man-o'-war's man, still lying under the launch, who thus interrogates himself for the fourth time, and more em- phatically than ever, but also in less dubious accent, and less despairingly. True, the conspiring assassins have only stepped aside to a spot from which they may more conveniently descend upon their quarry, and be surer of striking it ; but their changed position has left him free to change his, which he at length deter- mines 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 their boats 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 offi- cers 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 unaimed, 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 creeo out from under the launch, and steal away unobserved? A glance from under his 17 194 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. sheltering boat towards the spot where the assassins have placed themselves in ambuscade satisfies him that he can. The fog favors him. Through it he can- not see them, and should be himself equally invisible. Another favorable circumstance, on the soft, sandy beach his footsteps will make but slight noise, not enough to be heard above the continuous surging of the surf. All this passes in a moment ; and he has made up his mind to start, but is stayed by a new apprehen- sion. Will he be in time? The stair at which the boat should be 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 vil- lains, 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 this, the answer is doubtful ; and the doubt appalls him. In his absence, the young gentlemen may arrive at the fatal spot. He may return to find their bodies tying lifeless along the sand, their pockets rifled, the plunderers and murderers gone. The thought holds him irresolute, hesitating what course to take. Shall he remain till the}' are heard approaching, then rush out, and give them such warn- ing as he may, throw himself by their side, and do his best to defend them? Unarmed, this would net be much. Against pistols and poniards, he would scarce count as a combatant. It might but end in all three being slaughtered together. And there is still a dan- ger of his being discovered in his attempt to steal away from his place of concealment. He may be fol- lowed 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 A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 105 assumed of a fair start, he will hold his distance against any thing Spanish or Californian. In five minutes he can reach the pier ; in five more, be back. If ^\e but find the "Crusaders" there, a word will warn them. In all, it might take about ten minutes. But, mean- while, Crozier and Cadwallader ma} get upou the ground ; and one minute after that all would be ON er. A terrible struggle agitates the breast of the old man- o'-war's man : in his thoughts is a conflict agonizing. On either side are pros and cons, requiring calm delib- eration ; and there is no time for this. He must act. But one more second spent in consideration. He has confidence in the young officers. Both are brave as lions, arid, 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 conflict, 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 passes through his mind in a tenth part of the time it takes to tell it. And, having resolved how to act, he hastens to cany out his resolution ; which is to pro- ceed 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. 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 scoi'e of them seated on the thwarts, some 196 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. lolling over against the gunwales, asleep. At a glance he can tell them to be " Crusaders." His hail startlea them into activity, one and all recognizing the voice of their old shipmate. "Quick!" he cries; "quick, mates ! Come 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 up from their recumbent attitude, and out of the boat. Rushing up the steps, they clus- ter around their comrade. They have not needed in- structions to arm themselves. Harry's speech, with its tone, tells of some shore hostility ; and they have instinctively made ready to meet it. Each has laid hold of the weapon nearest to his hand ; some a knife, some an oar, others a boat-hook. "Heave along with me, lads!" cries Blew; and they " heave at his heels, rushing after, as if to extin- guish a fire in the forecastle. Soon they are coursing along the strand, towards the upturned boat, silently, and without asking expla- nation. If they did, the}' could not get it ; for their leader is panting, breathless, almost unable to utter a word. But five issue from his throat, jerked out disjointedl}", and in hoarse utterance. They are, " Crozier Cadwallader waylaid robbers mur- derers ! " Enough to spur the "Crusaders" to their best speed, if they had not been already at it. But they are ; every man of them straining his strength to the utmost. As they rush on, clearing the thick fog, Harry, at their head, listens intently. As yet he hears no sound, only th ? monotonous swashing of the sea, and the murmur of distant voices in the streets of the town. But no A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 197 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 oomes in sight of the capsized launch ; and simultane- ously he sees two figures upon the beach beyond. They are of human shape, but through the fog looking large as giants. He is not beguiled by the deception : he knows them to be the forms of the two officers magnified by the mist. No others are likely to be coming that way, for he can perceive they are approaching; and as can be told by their careless, swaggering gait, un- suspicious of danger, little dreaming of an ambuscade, that in ten seconds more may deprive them of exist- ence. To him, hurrying to prevent this catastrophe, it is a moment of intense apprehension, of dread, chilling fear. He sees the young officers almost up to the place where the assassins should spring out upon them. Tn another instant he may hear the cracking of pistols, and see their flashes through the fog. Expecting it even before he can speak, he nevertheless calls out, " Halt there, Mr. Crozier ! We're ' Crusaders.' Stop where you are. Another step, and you'll be shot a. 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 stop ; the more promptly from being pre- pared to anticipate 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 speech, the sombre space under the wall is lit up by four flash- 17* 198 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. es, followed by the report of as many pistols ; while the " tzip-tzip " of bullets, like hornets hurtling past their ears, leaves them 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. In all likelihood, the pistols of the assassins are double-barrelled ; and both barrels have been discharged. Before they can re- load them, Harry Blew with the ' ' Crusaders ' ' have come up ; and it is too late for De Lara and his confederates to employ their poniards. Crozier and Cadwallader bound forward, and, placing themselves at the head of the boat's crew, advance toward the shadowed spot. The young officers have long since drawn their pistols, but prudently retained their fire, seeing nothing sure to aim at. Now 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 awa}~, escaping the chastisement they would surely have received, had they stood their ground. Some figures are seen in the distance, scut- tling along a narrow lane. Crozier brings his revolver to bear on them, his finger upon the trigger. But it may not be them ; and, stayed by the uncertainty, he refrains from firing. " Let them go ! " he sa}s, return- ing the pistol to his pocket. . " 'Twould be no use looking for them now. Their crime will keep till morning ; and, since we know their names, it will be A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 199 strange if wo can't find them, though not so strange if we should fail to get them punished. That they shall be, if there's a semblance of law to be found in San Fran- cisco. 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 goodl}- sum of money. Certainly, had you not turned up so opportunely But how came you to be here ? Never mind now ! Let us get aboard ; and you, Blew, must come with us. It'll do you no harm to spend one more night on your old ship. There you can tell me all." Harry joj-fully 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 forecastle. CHAPTER XXVI. IN FLIGHT. A COUNTRY-HOUSE ten miles distant from San Francisco, in a south-westerly direction. It stands back from the bay, halfway between it and the Pacific, among the Coast Range hills. Though built of mud-brick, the sort made by the Israelites in Egypt, and with no pretension to architectural style, it is, in California!! parlance, a hacienda; for it is the head- quarters of a grazing estate, though not one of the first class, either in stock or appointments. In both respects, it was once better off than now ; since now it is less than second, showing signs of decay every- 200 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. where, but nowhere so much as in the house itself, an. the enclosures around it. The walls are weather washed, here and there cracked and crumbling : tin doors have seen no paint for years, and, opening 01 shutting, creak upon hinges thickty coated with rust The corrals contain no cattle ; nor are there any to be seen upon the pastures outside. In short, the estate shows as if it had an absentee owner, or been aban- doned altogether. And the house might appear unin- habited, but for some peons seen sauntering listlessly around it, and a barefoot damsel or two, standing dishevelled by its door, or in its kitchen kneeling over the metate, and squeezing out the maize-dough for the eternal tortillas. However, despite its neglected ap- pearance, it has an owner ; and, with all their indo- lence, the lounging leperos outside, and slatternly wenches within, have a master. He is not often at home ; but, when he is, they address him as Don Faus- tino. Sen-ants rarely add the surname. If these did, they would call him Don Faustino Calderon ; for he is the dueno of the decayed dwelling. Only at intervals do his domestics see him. He spends nearly all his time elsewhere, most of it in Yerba Buena, now styled 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 debauchery of every kind. The estate is heavily mortgaged : the house has become 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 appear- A STOEY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 201 aiice of life. Fond of cards as their master, they may at such 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 any thing but an indulgent master. Then his domestics have to move about, and wait upon him with assiduity. If they don't, they will hear carajos from his lips, and get cuts from his riding-whip. It is the morning after that night when the 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 inter- preted as a sure sign that their master is at home. And he is ; though he has been there but a very short time, 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 com- pany of a gentleman, whom all his servants know to be his intimate friend and associate, Don Francisco de Lara. They have ridden 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 cou- ple of grooms, rudely roused from their slamber. The house-servants, lazily opening the huge door of the saguan, see that the dueno is in ill humor, which stirs them into activity. 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 a while in silence, each with an elbow rested on the table, a hand 202 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 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 staj'ing 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 belong- ing to the war-ship, 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 the 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 up from the opposite side, without our seeing them, dark as it was. 'Tis enough to make me believe in second-sight." " That seems 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 every thing we said, and slipping off, after we retired to tho shadow, might have brought up the rest of the accursed crew. The thing seems strange : at the same time it'g possible enough, and probable too." A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 203 1.' Y. And, now you speak of it, I remember some- n^v(. While we were standing under the wall, I fan- cied I ^aw 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. Yes: that accounts for every thing. 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 now, no mistake about it. Calderon, why didn't you tell me 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 ever I've been in ; and I can remem- ber a few. No use to think about duelling now, who- ever might be challenger. Instead of seconds, they'd meet us with a posse of sheriffs 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 jus t 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 204 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. the table with his shut fist, " ever}' thing has gone against us." "Every thing 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, 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 us from the revenge I for one want. On the contrary, 'twill help us. 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, not- withstanding j'our behavior last night. But }"ou ask some very silly questions, and that's one of them. Supposing these gringos gone from here, does it follow they'll take every thing 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 ! " " But they're going too." " So you say, 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 depart- ure." A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 205 " Amigo, you talk enigmaticall}'. Will 3*ou oblige me by speaking plainer ? " " I will, but not till we've had our chocolate, and after it a capita, 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 }'ou 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 am to be a sharer? " " It has ; and you shall be, but only in proportion as you may prove yourself worthy." " T faith ! 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 domes- tics, announcing the chocolate served. A few moments suffice for the slight matutinal repast ; after which a decanter of Catalonian brandy, and glasses, are placed upon the table, with a bundle of Manila 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 par- ticulars 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? " " You know I am. Why do you put the question?" "Because I want to be sure before making known 18 206 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 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. Nevermind. 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 j'ou have something besides money ? This house and your lands ? " "Mortgaged months ago up to the eyes, the ears, the crown of the head. That's where the cash came from to set up the bank that's broken, 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, drink- ing this Catalan, the mortgagee that old usurer Mar- tinez may step in, and kick us both out." "I'd like him to try! He'd catch r a Tartar, if he attempted to kick me out, he, or anybody else, just now, in my present humor. There's far more reason for us to fear being pulled out by policemen, which makes it risky to remain here talking. So let's to the point at once, back to where we left off. On 3*our oath, Faustino Calderon, you're no longer a man of money ? ' ' " On my oath, Francisco de Lara, I haven't an onza left, no, not a, peso." A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 207 " 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 has 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 Rafael Rocas." " And the fourth, about 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?" " Besause 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, senor, 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, cama- rado I tell me, and try me." "I intend doing both, but not just yet. It's an 208 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 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, this shall be done. Time enough then for you to know what I'm aiming at. Now I can only sa}*, 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 since I've had the honor of your acquaintance ; the second, that Don Gregorio Montijo will not leave California, at least not quite so soon, nor altogether in the way, he is wishing. You may have plenty of tune yet, and oppor- tunities too, to press your suit with the fair Inez." " Carramba! Secure me that, and I swear " " You needn't set abont swearing yet. You can do that when the occasion calls for it. Till then, I'll take your word. With one in love, as you believe j-our- self, 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 piolonged conference. When a man sees the chance of getting sixty thousand dollars in a lump sum, he's pretty certain to act promptty, and without being par- ticular 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." A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 209 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 awa}-, 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 ashore again before breakfast. What with their last night's revelry, it'll take them some time to get 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 these things rather slowly in San Francisco. Then there's the ten miles out here, even if they strike our trail so 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 Eocas. 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 there 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 not have the 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 made any place pleasant.'' "Well; I tell you you will have it, maybe more. But not if we stand palavering here. Nos vamos ! " A call from Calderon summons a servant, "who is 210 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. directed to nave the horses brought to the door. Thcs* soon appear, under the guidance of two ragged grooms, who, delivering them, see their master mount, and ride off, they know not whither ; nor care the}", 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 the hills ; and the hypothe- cated house resumes its wonted look of desolation. CHAPTER XXVH. A CONVERSATION WITH ORANGS. ~V TOT WITHSTANDING his comfortable quarters JL i in the frigate, Harry Blew is up by early day- break, 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 wan- derings through the streets of San Francisco, and how he came to bring the boat's crew to the rescue. As the two officers are not on the earl}- morning watch, but still abed, he does not await 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 " Condor." He is alive to the hint given him by Crozier, that there may be a chance of his being made mate of the Chilian ship. As }-et, 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 A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 211 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 planks he treads with heavier step, but lighter heart, than when, on the night before, he ran alpng them in quest of assistance. With heavier purse too, as he carries a hundred-pound Bank-of- England note in the pocket of his pea-jacket, a part- ing gift from the generous Crozier, besides a num- ber 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 em- bargoed property. He does not. 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. Harry presents the card given him bj 7 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, points out the vessel, which is visible from his door, and at no great distance off. " Capt. 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 your 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 boat-fare. He has mrde up his mind to be the " Condor's " first mate if lie 212 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 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 afford- ing protection, to the fair creatures whom Crozier has committed to his charge. The watermen of San Francisco harbor do not ply their oars gratuitously. Even the shabbiest of shore- boats, hired for the shortest time, demands a stiffish fare. It will cost Harry Blew a couple of dollars to be set aboard the "Condor;" though she is tying 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' j'onder craft, that one as shows the tricolor bit o' buntiu' wi' a single star in the blue. The sooner ye do your job, the better j'e'll get paid for it." A contract on such conditions is usually entered into with alacrity, and with celerity carried out. The boat- man 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 a skin black as a boot, and crow-footed all over the face, standing be- side two singular creatures nearly as human-like as himself, but covered with fox-colored hair, the pets of Capt. Lantanas. The old man-o'-war's-mau 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 A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 213 cuts short his hesitation by coming up, and saying, " Well, mass'r sailor-man, wha' you come for? S'pose you want see de capen. I'se only de cook." "Oh! you're only the cook, are you? "Well, old caboose, you've made a correct guess about my biz- ness. It's the capten I want to see." " All right. He down in de cabin. You wait hya : I fotch 'im up less'n no time." The old darkj^, 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 saikr, addressing them in a jocular way, "what be your tpeenyun 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? " ' l Kurra kra kra ! Cro cro croak ! ' ' " No, I won't do any think o' the kind ; leastways, unless there turns out to be short commons in the ship. Then I'll croak, an' no mistake. But I say, old boys, how 'bout the grog? Eeg'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 clay ; an' if it ain't same on this here craft in the which I'm 'bout to ship, then, shiver my spars ! if I don't raise su.h a rumpus as " 214 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 4 ' Kurra kurra cr 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, Avith the semi- serious look that accompanied it, having part fright- ened, part enraged them. The fracas continues, until the darky returns on deck, followed by the skipper ; when the cook takes charge of the quadrumana, draw- ing them off to his caboose. Capt. Lantanas, addressing himself to the' sailor, asks, " Un marinero?" (" A seaman? ") 11 Si, capitan." ("Yes, captain.") ' ' Que negocio tienes V. commigo ?" ( " "What is 3'our lusiness with me? ") " "Well, capten," responds Harry Blew, speaking the language of the Chilian in a tolerably intelligible patois, " I've come to offer my services to you. I've brought this bit of paper from Master Silvestre : it will explain things better than I can." The captain takes the note handed, to him, and breaks open the envelope. A smile irradiates his sallow face as he becomes acquainted with its con- tents. "At last a sailor!" he mutters to himself; foi Harry is the only one who has yet offered. " And a good one too," thinks Capt. Lantanas, bending his eyes on the ex-man-o'-war's-man, and scanning him frem 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 communication with Don Gregorio, who has recommended him. The haciendado had reported what Crozier said, that Harry Blew was an able sea- man, thoroughly trustworthy, and competent to take A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 215 charge of a ship, either as first or second officer. With Crozier's indorsement thus vicariously conveyed, the ex-man-o'-war's-man has no need to say a word foi himself. Nor does Capt. Lantanas call for it. He only puts some professional questions, less inquisito- rially than as a matter of form. He speaks now in English. " 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- afore 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 o' her reck'nin'." " You can keep a log-book, I suppose? " " I dar say I can. I've larned to write so'st might be read ; tho' nry fist an'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 candor. Do J T OU think you are capa- ble 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' nryself. 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 da} r s. If your honor 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 is on." " Enough, Senor Enrique B blee. What is it? " asks the Chilian, re-opening the note, and vainly endeav- oring to pronounce the Saxon surname. "Blew, Harry Blew." 216 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. " Ah, Bloo azul, esta ? " " No, capten. Not that sort o' blue. In Spanish, my name has a clifFrent significance. It means as we say of a gale after it's blowed past, it 'blew.' When it's been a big tin, we say it ' blew great guns.' Now ye understand? " " Yes, perfectly. Well, Senor Blew, to come to an understanding about the other matter. I'm willing to take you as my first officer, if }'ou don't object to the wages I intend offering you, fifty dollars a month, and every thing found." "I'm agreeable to the tarms." " Bastal When will it be convenient for you to enter on 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 to work." v Bueno, senor: you can take my boat for it. And, if }'ou see any sailors who want to join, I authorize you to engage them at double the usual wages. I want to get away as soon as a crew can be shipped. But, when 3 - ou come back, we'll talk more about it. Call at Seiior Silvester's office, and tell him he needn't look for me till a later hour. Say I've some business that detains me aboard the ship. Hasta Luegol " Thus courteously concluding, the Chilian skipper returns to his cabin, leaving the newly appointed pilvto free for his own affairs. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 217 CHAPTER XXVIII. THE BLUE-PETER. TTIIIE ex-man-o'-war's-man, now first mate of a JL merchant-sjiip, 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 intrusted to him ; then, contracting with a truckman, he proceeds to the Sailor's Home, "re- lieves " his impedimenta, and starts back to embark them in his boat, but not before giving the bar-keeper, as also the Boniface, of that inhospitable establish- ment, 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' 't be but a bit o' paper, worth more than your gold-dross, dollar for dollar. How'd 3-6 like to lay your ugly claws on't? Ah! you're a pair of the most gentlemanly shore-sharks I've met in all my cruzins, but 3'e'll never have Harry Blew in your grups again." Sa}*ing this, he thrusts the bank-note into his pocket ; then, paying them a last reverence with mock politeness, he starts after the truckman, already en route, with his kit. In accordance with the wishes of Capt. Lautanas, 19 218 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. he stays a litti^ 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 "Con- dor's " first officer is forced to the conclusion 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 .ailing. He wonders at this : there was no word of (t when he was aboard. He knew, as all the others, hat she was to sail soon : it might be in a day or two, but not, as the signal indicates, within the hour or two. While conjecturing the cause of such hasty departure, he sees something that partly explains it. Three or four cables' length from the "Crusader" is another ship, over whose taffrail floats the flag of England. At a glance the old man-o'-war's-man can tell she is a corvette ; at the same time recalling what, the night before, he has heard upon the frigate, that the coming of the corvette will be the signal for the "Crusader" to sail. "While his heart warms to the flag thus doubly displayed in the harbor of San Fran- cisco, it is a little saddened to see the other signal, the Blue-Peter ; for it tells him he may not have an opportunity to take a more formal leave of his friends on the frigate, which he designed doing. He longs to make known to Mr. Crozier the result of his applica- tion to the captain of the Chilian ship, to receive the congratulations of the young officers on his success. But now it may be impossible to communicate with them, the " Crusader" so soon leaving port. He hag A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 219 half a mind to put off for the frigate in the " Condor's " gig, into which he has got. But Capt. Lantanas might, meanwhile, be wanting both him and the boat. All at once, in the midst of his irresolution, he sees that which promises to help him out of the dilemma, 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 recognizes the one in the stern-sheets, whose bright, ruddy face is towards him. " Thank the Lord for such good-luck!" he mutters. "It's Mr. Cadwallader ! " B} 7 this the dingy has drawn near enough for the midshipman to see and identify him ; which he does, exclaiming in jo}'ful surprise, "By Jove! it's Blew himself! Halloo, 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 ' Crusader'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 suffi- ciently distant from the boats to be bej'ond 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. 220 THE FLAG OP DISTRESS. To save you the necessity of inquiring, I can point out the place it's to go to. Look alongshore. You see a house yonder on the top of the hill? " " Sartinly I see it, Master Willie, and know who lives in it, two o' the sweetest creaturs in all Cali- forney. I s'pose the letter be for one o' them.'-' " No, it isn't, }*ou dog ! for neither of them. Read the superscription. You see, it's addressed to a gen- tleman?" "Oh! it's for the guv'nor his-self," rejoins Harry, taking the letter, and running his eye over the direc- tion, Don Gregorio Montijo. " All right, sir. I'll pnt 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 an}'how. In twenty minutes * the Crusader ' will 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 yon know, except that you needn't say any thing of Mr. Crozier and m}'self having taken a little too much champagne, which we did. You understand, old boy? " " Parfitly, Master Will." "Good! Now, Harry, I haven't another momc.nt to stay. See ! The ship's beginning to show canvas. If I don't get back directly, I may be left here in California, never to rise above the lank of reefer. Oh ! A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 221 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 gled 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 purmoted. I'm now lirst mate o' the Chilian ship, Master "Willie." "Hurrah! I congratulate you on your good luck. I'm delighted to hear of it ; and so will he be. We may hope some day to see you a full-fledged skipper, commanding your own craft. Now, j'ou dear old salt, don't forget to look well after the girls. Again good- by, and- God bless you!" A squeeze of hands, with fingers intwined tight as a reef-knot, then relaxed with reluctance ; after which they separate. The mid, jumping into the ding3 r , 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 intrusted to him. Snug as kis 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 hasten- ing along the shore-road, towards the house of Don Gregorio Montijo. 19* 222 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. CHAPTER XXIX DREADING A DUEL ONCE more upon the housetop 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 war-ship that holds the men who hold 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 that oppresses them, causing them keen anxiety. Yesterday, with its scenes of pleasurable 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. Some- thing more will surely come from it. "What will this something be ? What should it ? What could it, but a desafio, a duel ? However brave on 3 r ester-morn the two senoritas were, however apparently regardless of consequences, it is different to-day. The circumstances have some- what changed. Then their sweethearts were only suitors. Now they are affianced, still standing in the relationship of lovers, but with ties more firmly united. The young Englishmen are now. their own. Inez is less anxious than her aunt, having less cause to be. With the observant intelligence of woman, she hag A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 223 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 will. 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 speaks in serious tone, dis- cussing 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, affd listening to the sweet words of love is to-day succeeded by depression, almost despondency. While conversing, they have their eyes upon the bay, watch- ing the boats, that at intervals are seen to put off from the war-ship, fearing to recognize in them the forms of those so dear. Fearing it ; for they know that the young officers are not likely to be ashore again ; and their coming now could only be on that errand they, the senoritaSj so much dread, the duel. Duty should keep them both on their ship ; but honor may require them once more to visit the shore, per- haps never more to leave it alive. Thus gloomily reflects Carmen, imparting her fears to the less frightened Inez ; though she, too, is not without some apprehension. If they but understood the code of signals, all this miser}- would be spai'ed them ; for on the frigate's main-royal-mast head floats a blue flag, with a white square in its centre, which ien finish by putting a Spanish flag over her head, instead of the Chilian as you intended ; and, under- neath, the initials ' I. A.' With that on your arm, you may safely show it at Cadiz." " A splendid idea ! The very thing ! The only dif- ficulty is, that this picture of the Chilian girl isn't any thing 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 3'ou'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 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 the Andalusian. The e}-es appear good enough." "The Chilena had splendid eyes." A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. " Of course, or she wouldn't have her portrait there. But how did 3'our artist know that ? Has he ever seen the original?" " No, I described her to him ; and he's acquainted with the costume the Chilian girls wear. He's seen plenty of such. I told him to make the face a nice oval, ttith a small mouth, and pretty pouting lips; then to give her great big e} r es. 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 perfec tion. 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 liiez, who's got the tiniest little understandings I ever saw on a woman tall as she is." " Stuff! " scornfully retorts Crazier : " 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 moustrosit}^ as among the Chinese for in- stance. 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 orthopedia, or whatever it's called. "Well, I shall let the Chileua's feet stand, with the ankies too, and get Grummet to add on the rest." " What if your Chilena should chance to set eyes on the improved portrait? Remember, we're to call at Valparaiso ! " 270 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. " I never thought of that." " If you should meet her, you'll do well to keep your shirt-sleeves down, or 3*ou may got 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 tune the frigate's in port. That will insure against any" "Land ho!" Their dialogue is interrupted. The lookout on tfce masthead has sighted Mauna-Loa. CHAPTER XXXVI. A CREW THAT M K A X S MUTINY. A SHIP sailing down the Pacific, on the line of longitude 125 "W. Technically speaking, not a ship, but a bark, as ma} 7 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 bark. 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 pofacca, in one piece from step to truck. Such vessels are common enough in the Medi terra- A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 271 ncan, and not rare in Spanish American ports. They ma}- be seen at Monte Video, Buenos Ayres, and Val paraiso, to which last this bark 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;" for she is the craft commanded by Capt. Antonio Lantanas. This may seem strange. In the harbor of San Francisco, the "Condor" was a ship. How can she now be a bark? The answer is easy, as has been the transfor- mation ; and a word will explain it. For the working of her sails, a bark requires fewer hands than a ship. Finding himself with an incomplete crew, Capt. Lan- tanas resorted to a stratagem common in such cases, and converted his vessel accordingly. The conversion was eifected on the da}* before leaving San Francisco ; so that the "Condor," entering the Golden Gate a ship, stood out of it a bark. As this, she is now on the ocean, sailing southward along the line of longi- tude 125 W. On 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 Span- ish galleons from the Philippines to Acapulco. A steamer would hug the shore, keeping the brown, bar- ren 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 begins to bear up for the Bay of Panama. 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 bim. The 272 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 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 with- out 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 dai'kness 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. Notwithstand- ing these reasons for feeling secure, the chief officer of the " Condor" paces her decks with a brow clouded as the sky over his head ; while the glance of his eye betraj-s 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 cou- trary, he moves about, not with bold, manlike step, as one having command of the vessel, but steal thily, now and then stopping, and standing in crouched attitude, within the deeper shadow thrown upon her decks by masts, bulwarks, and boats. He seems less to occupy himself about the ropes, spars, and sails, than the be- havior 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 they are good ones. Before leaving San Francisco, he dis- covered the incapacity of the crew, so hastily get together ; a bad lot, he could see at first sight, rough, -ibald, and drunken. In all, there are eleven of them, the second mate included ; the last, as alread}' stated, a Spaniard, by name Padilla. There are three others of this same race, Spaniards, or Spanish Americans, Gil Gomez, Jose Hernandez, and Jacinto Velarde; A STOKY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 273 two Englishmen, Jack Striker and Bill Davis ; a French- man, by name La Crosse ; a Dutchman, and a Dane , the remaining two being men whose nationality is diffi- cult 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 alread3 r dis- gusted with what is going on aboard the merchantman. He has been 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 fully apprehensive of the last ; for, in less than a single day's sailing, he has discovered that the crew,, besides counting short, is otherwise untrustworthy. Several of the men are not sailors at all, but longshore-men ; one or two of them " 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 her ropes and sails, insubordina- tion. Even thus early it has shown itself among the men. and may at any moment break out into open mu- tiny. All the more likely from the character of Capt. 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 curios- ities, 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 274 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. crew such as that lie has shipped for the voyage to Val- paraiso. 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 Harry, though a typi- cal British sailor, is not one of the happy-go-lucky kind. He has been intrusted 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 yet 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 inca- pacity of her sailors, but their bold, indeed almost, insolent behavior. 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 every thing else. Kind treatment from captain and mate, and still they show 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 " Con- dor's " decks, and here and there concealing himself in shadow, in the hope he may overhear some speech that will give him a clew to the conspiracy, if con- spiracy it be. And in this hope he is not deceived or A STOKY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 275 disappointed, but successful even beyond his most sanguine expectations ; for he at length gets the clew, not only to the insubordination of the crew, but all else that has been puzzling him. And a strange problem it is, its solution positively appalling. He gets it while standing under a piece of sail-cloth, spread frr>m the rail to the top .of the round-house, rigged up by the carpenter as a sun-screen while doing some work dur- ing the heat of the day, and so left. The sky being now starless and pitch-black, with this additional ob- struction to light, Harry Blew stands in obscurity im- penetrable to the eye of man. One passing so close as almost to touch could not possibly see him. Nor is he seen by two men, who, like himself, saun- tering about, have come to a stop under the spread can- vas. Unlike him, however, they are not silent, but engaged in conversation, in a low tone, still loud enough for him to hear them, 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 an end, he has not only obtained intelligence of what has hitherto per- plexed him, but gets a glimpse of something beyond, that which sets his hah 1 on end, and causes the blood to curdle in his veins. 276 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. CHAPTER XXXVII. TWO "SYDNEY DUCKS." JACK STRIKER and Bill Davis are two " Sydney Ducks," who have seen service in the chain-gangs of Australia. The} 7 have also served as sailors, this being their original calling. But since a certain vo}*- age to the Swan River settlement, in which they were but passengers, sent out at the expense of H. B. 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 colonization forced upon them, and quite uncongenial, they had thus made their way into California, and after a trip up the Sacramento, and a spell at gold-seeking, with but in- different success, had returned to San Francisco ; in the Queen City of the Pacific finding w^-s of life they liked better than the hard labor of pick, pan, and cradle. Loafering 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 required some 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 A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 277 " 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 authorized to accept their services for a some- what 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 strange conditions were partially made known to them before setting foot on the ship ; and though an honest sailor would have scornfully rejected them, even in the face of such tempting reward, Jack Striker and Bill Davis accepted them without scruple or cavil ; for they are not honest sailors, but ex-con- victs, 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 others of her crew, they have had additional in- sight 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 won- dering at it, till after a mutual comparison of notes, and putting together their respective scraps of intelli- gence, with surmises added, they arrive at a pretty accurate understanding of how the land lies, and why their entre-preneur who is no other than the second mate, Paclilla has been so liberal. Striker, who has seen more of the world, and is the elder of the two Sydney Ducks, has been the first to obtain this added information ; and it is for the purpose 24 278 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. of communicating it to his old chum of the chain-gang, he has asked the latter to step aside with him. And, 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 coming under the awning. "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 feet. An' t it ? " "Better'n that, yes, but not's good as it might be." " Tut, man, j'ou're always grumblin'. Five thou- sand 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 thou- sand for the trip. An' Jack Striker an't like to be saterfied wi' any thin' short o' that sum." ' ' You' re joking, Jack ? ' ' " No, I an't, Bill. As yon knows, I'm not o' the jokin' sort, an' now mean what I say, sartin as I ever meant any thin' in my life. Both me an' you oughter get thirty thousand apiece o' this yellow stuff, that at the werry leest." " Why, there wouldn't be enough to go round the lot that's in." " Yes, thar wud, an' will. Old as I im, I hain't yit quite lost hearin' . My yeers are as sharp as they iver wor, an' jist as reliable. Larst night I hcerd a whisper pass atween Padilla an' another o' them Spanish chaps, that's put me up to somethink." A STOKY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 279 " What did you hear?" " That the swag' 11 tot up to the total o' three hun dred thousand dollars." " The dense 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 purcentage. 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 tothers." " 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 tother." " 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 stretched. For, if we make a mucker o' the job, it'll be a hangin' matter, sure. For 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 ; de- tarmined it shall be. Why shud the four Spanish fellas get a dollar moren us others. As I've obsarved, twoo' 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. Well, they may do as they like, for all I care. But that are 280 THE FLAG OP DISTRESS. 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 like the others, an' 'pears to be controlled by him. 'Twar 'tween them two I overheerd the confab ; Gomez tellin' Padilla that the dust lyin' snug in the cabin-lockers was full valley for three hunderd thousan'. An', as theer's eleven o' us to share, that 'ud be nigh on thirty thousan' apiece, if my 'rithmetie an't out o' reckinin'. 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 them- selves. But theer be seven o' us outsiders ; an', when I tell the others what I've told you, they'll be all on our side if they an't the silliest o' fools." "They won't be that, I take it: a difference of twenty thousand dollars, or so, in their favor, will make them sensible enough. But what's to be the upshot, or, as they call it in the theeatre play-bills, what's the programme? " " Well, mate, so far as I've been put up to't, we're to run on till we get down the coast, somewheer near the Issmus o'^Panyma. Theer we'll sight land ; an', 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 Go- mez, he says. Then we're to make for some town, when we've got things straight for puttin' in appear- ance in a explainable way. Otherwajs, we might get pulled up ; an' all our trouble 'ud be for nowt, worse, every man jack on us w>uld have a good chance to awing for't." A STOftY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 281 " And the young ladies? " " They're to go along wi' Gomez an' Hernandez How they mean to manage it, Jack Striker can't tell ye. They'll be a trouble, no doubt, as always is wi' weernen ; an' it be a pity we're hampered wi' 'em moren that, it's reg'lar dangersome. They ma} 7 get the hul kit o' us into a scrape. Howsever, we'll hev to take our chances, since thcer'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. 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 soou'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 country- man 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 jewelry on our ankles ! All stuff an psalm- singin' that 'bout one's own country, an' fella-countiy- men ! If we let him off, we might meet him somewhere when we an't a-wantin' to. He'll have to be served same as the tother three. There be no help for't, if we don't want to have the hemp roun' our thrapples." 24* 282 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. " I suppose you're right, Strikei ; 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 near Panama? As the yellow stuff s tyin' 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? " " 'Tan't the takin' o't. 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 soun' 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 she stood on the wrong tack, we might never set eyes on land, or only to be cast away on some dangersome shore or, what 'ud be bad as e3 r ther, get overhauled by some man-o'-war, an' not able to gie account o' ourselves. Theer's the difficulty, don't 'ee see, Bill? So the Spanyards hev agreed to let things alone till we've ran down nigh Paiiyma. Theer Gomez says theer be a long streetch o' uninhabited coast, wher; we'll be safe goin' ashore in the night." " Well, I suppose that'll. be the best waj-, after all. If a man has the monej", it don't make much difference where he sets foot on shore ; an' no doubt we'll find sport down at Pan3'ma good as am'where else." " Theer ye be right, Bill. When a cove's flush. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 283 there's pleasurin' cverj^where. Gold's the only thing as gives it." " With the prospect of such big plunder, we can afford to be patient," says Davis resignedl}*. " I an't agoin' to be patient for the paltry five thou- sand they promised. No, Bill ! neyther must you. We've equal rights wi' the rest ; an' we must stick out for 'em." " Soon as you say the word, Jack, I'm at }'our back. So'll all the others, who're in the same boat with our- selves." " 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 at once, soon's I've finished my trick at the wheel, the which' 11 soon be on. Ay I theer's the bell now : I must go aft. When I come off, Bill, be you up by the night-heads, an' have that Dutch chap as is in our watch 'long wi' ye, an' also the Dane. The} r 're the likeliest to go in wi' us at once, an' I'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 fore- castle. Harry Blew stands aghast, his hair on end, the blood coursing chill through his veins. No wonder, after listening to such a revelation ! A plot diabolical, a scheme of atrocity unparalleled, comprising three horrible crimes, robbery, the abduction of women, and the murder of men, among these himself. Now knows he the cause of the crew's insubordina- tion, too clearly comprehends it, three hundred thousand dollars of gold-dust stowed in the cabin- 2rf4 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. lockers. News to him ; for Capt. Lantanas had not made him acquainted with the fact, the treasure having been shipped before his coming aboard, in fact, on that same night when he went after Silvestre. At the very time he was knocking at the ship-agent's office-door, Don Thomas, with some trusty watermen, were engaged in getting it aboard the Chilian ship. An unfortunate arrangement, after all, and now too certain of ending disastrously, not only for Don Gre- gorio, but those dear to him, with others less interested, yet linked to his fate. Though the ex-man-of-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 every thing over, perceives clearly enough what are the crimes to be committed, with the motives for commit- ting 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 pro- tect. How is it to be averted ? How is he to save them ? How save himself? A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 285 These questions come crowding together, and repeat them selves 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 con- victs has shown this. The second mate same as the rest, which to him, Harry Blew, causes no surprise. He had alread}* made up his mind about Padilla, ob- serving his sjTnpathy with those who had begun to show insubordination. He had also noticed, that, in whatever was up among them, Gil Gomez was the directing spirit, Velarde next in influence ; both domi- nating Padilla, notwithstanding his superior authority as one of the ship's officers ; while Hernandez seemed to be controlled by all three. The last, Harry Blew has discovered to be a landsman, with no sea-experi- ence 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 in the scheme of pillage and murder, though not to be equally rewarded. 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. The}' are all men of iniquity ; and, in defending the innocent, he would have to stand alone ; for it would amount to almost that, with no other help than Capt. 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 fidel- 286 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. ity could be depended upon to the death ; 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 Capt. Lantanas what he has discovered, and which came naturally, he no longer entertains. The trusting Chilian skipper would scarce give credit to such an atrocious scheme ; and if he did, in all like- lihood it would result in his taking some rash step that 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 he conjures up the picture of that fearful fate that seems so certainly before him. Tn the midst of the open ocean, or close to land, the scene 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 onl}* in imagination, it is not strange that the " Condor's " first officer feels a shivering through- out his frame. He feels it in every fibre. And reflec- tion 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 he sees the danger, sees it in A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 287 all its stark naked realit}-. Against such odds a con- flict 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 de- spair almost paralyzing his heart. He is unable to f hink steadily or clearly. Doubtful, unfeasible schemes shape themselves in his mind, or idle thoughts flit across his brain, all the while wild emotions coursing through his soul. At length, add after prolonged reflection, he makes a resolve. As his face is in shadow, its expression cannot be seen ; but, judging by the words that are muttered by his lips, it is one that should be unworthy of a British sailor, in short, that of a traitor. For his soliloquy seems to show that he has j^ielded to craven fear, intends surrendering up the sacred trust reposed in him, and along with it his honor. The words are, " There's no chance for that, nor yet for the savin' of my >wn life, except by castin' my lot in along wi' them" 1 11 do it I'll do it!" 288 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. CHAPTER XXXVIII. PLOT UPON PLOT. rilHE " Condor " is sailing with a light breeze some JL points abaft the beam. Jack Striker is at the helm ; and, as the sea is smooth, he finds it easy steer- ing, having little to do but keep her 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 greeii, both bleary, one of them bloodshot ; for all, eyes that by his own boast can " see into a mill- stone 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. " Comiii' to con me," growls the ex-convict. " Don't \\ant 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 approaches along the port gangway, and, after springing up to the poop-deck, stops opposite the steersman. " Well, Striker," he says ; " not much trouble with her to-night. She's goin' free too, with the wind in A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 289 the right quarter. We ought to be makin' good nine knots?" "All o' that, I daresay, sir," rejoins Striker, mol- lified by the affable manner in which the first officer has addressed him. " The bark an't a bad un to go, though she be a queery-rigged craft as 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." "loughter, master," answers the helmsman, fur- ther nattered 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, han'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 theer ; an' I don't care who knows it." " Neyther need ye. Man} 7 a good sailor can show the same. For nr^self, I han't had the cat ; but I've seed man-o'-war sarvice, an' got rough treatment too. An' I've seed sarvice on ships man-o'-war' s men have chased, likin' that sort a little better : I do." "Indeed!" exclaims the ex-convict, turning his e} r es with increased interest on the man thus frankly confessing himself. "Smuggler? or may be slaver? " " Little bit o' both. An', as you say 'bout the cat, I don't care a toss-up who knows o't. It's been a hardish world wi' me ; plenty o' ups an' downs, the downs of ener 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 25 290 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 1 daresay I'd 'a done a deal better by stayin' in Cali- forney, an' goin' on to them gold-diggin's up in the mountains." " You han't been theer, han't 3-6? " "No. Never went a cable's length a} r ont the town o' San Francisco." " Maj-be 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, on\y 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 war-ship, 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 San Francisco. "Well," rejoins Blew -in a tone of resignation; " maybe I've did the wisest thing, after all, in not goin' that way. I might 'a come back empty-handed, same as 3"ourself an' Davis. Ye say liquor was scarce up there? That would never 'a done for me. I must have my reg'lar allowance, or Well, no use sa3'm' what As an old man-o'-war's man, 3~ou can under- slan' me, Striker. An' as the same, I suppose you wm't object to takin' a tot now? " " TVo, for that matter," promptly responds Striker, like all his kind, drouthy. "Well, here's a drop o' rum, the best Santa Cruz. Help 3'oursclf ! " Harry Blew presents a black-jack bottle to the helms- man, who, detaching one hand from the wheel, takes hold of the bottle, and carries it to his lips. After A. STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 291 keeping it there for a prolonged spell, he returns it to its owner, who, for the sake of sociability, takes a drink himself. 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 " Syd- ney Duck" to a degree of familiarity; while, on his side, the mate, throwing aside all reserve, lets himself down to a level with the foremastman. 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, t>y sajdng, "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 says 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, a} r , tell it! Jack Striker's ears are allus open to hear how he can better his sittivation in life. He's a listener." "All right! I've observed } 7 ou' 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' a job, I don't mean that, but what 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? Werry funny questyin thet be, 'specially puttin' it to ole Jack Striker. He's good for't, wi' the gallows starin' him full in the face. Darned if he an't ! " 292 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. " Well, I thought you wouldn't be the one to be basket-faced 'bout it. It's a big thing I have on hand ; an' there'll be a fortune for all who go in wi' me." "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 pas- senger; an' what's to hinder us to la} r hands on it: If we can only get enough o' the crew to say yes, there needs be no difficulty. Them as won't '11 have to stan' aside. Though, from what I see o' them, it's like they'll all cut in. Divided square round, there'll be between twent} 7 an' thirty thousand dollars apiece Does 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 you could sound with safety, I mean?" "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 seed fit to confide in me, I'm agoin' to gie ye a bit o' my confidence. It's but fair atween two men as hev got to understan' one the tother. I may's well tell ye that I knew all about the stuff in the cabin-lockers. Me an' Davis war talkin' o't jist afore I come to the wheel. You an't the only one as hez set theer heart on hevin' it. Them Spanish chaps hez got it all arranged arready, an' had afore they put fut 'board this heer bark. Thar's the four A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 293 on 'tin, as I take it, all standin' in equal ; whiles 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. I'm glad you're agreeable to go in wi' us ; the which' 11 save trouble, an' yer own life as well. For I may tell yo, master, that they'd made up thar minds to send ye to the bottom 'long wi' the skipper an' the ole Spanyard." " That's a nice bit of news to hear, by Jove ! Well, mate, I'm thankful to ye for communicatin' it. Lor ! it's lucky for me we've this night chanced to get talkin' thegether." " Thar maybe 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' }'ou on our side, we'll eezy settle it our way, spite o' them Spanyards. If they refuse to agree, an' it come 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 them- selves. It consarns the rest same's it do us. 'Tall events, we're bound to ha' the majority." ' ' When do you propose we shud begin broachin' it to them?" " Straight away, if you say the word. I'll try some o' 'em soon's I've went off from here. Thar be several on the watch as'll be takin' a tot together 'fore we turns in. No time better nor now." " True : so at them at once, Striker. But mind ye, mate : be cautious how ye talk to them, an' don't com- 25* 204 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. mit a} r ther of us too far, till you've larnt their temper. I'll meet ye on the first dog-watch to-morrow ; then you can tell me how the land's likety to lie." " All right! I'll see to't in the smooth way. You can trust Jack Striker for that." " Take another pull o' the Santa Cruz. If this trip prove prosperous in the way we're plannin* it, najther you nor me' 11 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 com- mences 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. A STO11Y OF THE SOUTH SEA. 295 CHAPTER XXXIX. SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE. IN the " Condor's forecastle. It is her second night since leaving San Francisco, and the second watch is on duty ; the men of the first having come' down from the deck. That on duty is Padilla's ; in it Gomez, Hernandez, Velarde, and the two sailora of nationality unknown. The off- watch consists of Striker, Davis, the Frenchman who is called La Crosse, with the Dutchman, and Dane. All five are in the fore-peak ; the chief mate, as they suppose, having retired to his cabin. They are waiting till those on the watch not required for deck-duty come below. All of these have had intimation they will be wanted in the forecastle, a sum- mons that to most of the second watch seems mj'steri- ous. They obey it, notwithstanding ; and after a time the two sailors come down, the nondescripts without, name, one passing under the sobriquet of " Old Tarry ; " the other having had bestowed upon him the equally distinctive, but less honorable, appellation of "Slush." Shortl}' after, the second mate, Padilla, makes his ap- pearance, along with him Velarde. "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." 296 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. " Don't much matter," pats in Davis. " I daresay we can settle the thing without either. You begin, Jack, and 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 in this ship shud be eekilly divided." Padilla starts, Velarde doing the same. " What do you mean?" asks the former, putting on an air of surprised innocence. " I means what I've saj'ed, that the swag shud be eekilly divided." " And yet I don't understand you." "Yis, ye do! Come, master mate, 'tain't no use shammin' ignorance, not wi' Jack Striker, 'tall events. He be too old a bird to get cheated wi' chaff. If }-e want to throw dust into my eyes, it must be o' the sort that's stowed aft in the cabin. Now, d'ye under- stan' me? " Padilla looks grave, so does Velarde. Old Tarry and Slush show no sign of feeling ; both being already apprised of 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 grit shud be measured out to the crew o' this craft share an' share alike, even hands all roun,' with- out respectin' o' persons. An ' it shell be so deevided shell, an' must." A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 297 " Yes," indorses Davis, with like emphatic aflLma- tion. " It shall, and it must ! " "Pegrar, must it!" adds the Frenchman, followed in the same strain by Stronsen the Dane, and Van Houten the Dutchman, chorused by Tarry and Slush. " It an't no use your stannin' out, masters," contin- ues Striker, addressing himself to Padilla and Velarde. " Ye see, the majority's again ye ; an' in all cases o' the kind, wheresomever I've seed 'em, the majority means the right." " Certainly it means that ! " echo the others all save Padilla and Velarde, who remain silent and scowling. "Yis," continues Striker ; "an' theer be one who an't present among us, as oughter have his share too." "Whom are you speaking of? " demands Padilla. " I needn't tell ye," responds Striker. " If I an't mistook, that's him 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 that talk, has been only mis- leading them. They are undeceived on hearing what the mate has to say. Striker elicits it by repeating the conversation that has passed. 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 set- tlin' the question. The majority must decide. There's two not here, an' they've got to be consulted. They're both at the wheel. Therefore let's all go aft, an' talk the thing there. There's no fear for our bein' inter- 298 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. rupted. The skipper's asleep ; an' we've got the ship to ourselves." So saying, Blew leads up the ladder, the rost start- ing from their seats, and crowding after. Once on deck, they cluster around the forehatch, and there stop ; the first mate having something to say before going aft. 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 proceed in the same direction, in a straggled string, which again contracts into a knot as they reach the open quarter-deck, by the capstan, there again stop- ping. And there, the moonlight, falling full upon their faces, betrays the expression of men in mutiny, but mutiny unopposed. On the quarter-deck no one questions them ; for the traitorous first officer has spo- ken truly, the captain is asleep. They have the ship to themselves. It is Gomez who is at the wheel, his " trick " having commenced at the changing of watches. He is not alone, but with Hernandez beside him. Neither is yet aware of the strike that has taken place ; though during the day they have heard some whisperings, and are half expecting trouble with their subordinates. The theme which engages them is altogether differ- ent; beauty, not booty, being the subject of their discourse, which is carried on in a low tone. It is Hernandez who first introduces it, asking, "About the girls? 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 }*ou intend the same with Inez ? " "Of course, if I can." A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 299 " Can ! There need be no difficulty about it, cama- rado." " 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! They must consent. Don't be letting that scare you. Whether they're agreeable or not, we'll have a marriage-ceremonj', 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 shall meet. 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 her answers might be. And, if he's under ground, I've got another string to my bow in the 3*oung euro, Gonzaga, who in my time had charge of souls in a pueblita, nearer the place where I hope we shall be able to make shore. And, should neither of these my old acquaint- ances turn up, there are no end of others who will be willing to tie the knot that's to make you happy for life. I tell you, hombre, you're steering straight towards an earthly paradise : j'ou'll find that .in San- tiago." " I hope it may be as you say." " Yon may rest sure of it. Once in the old Vera- guan town, with these girls 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 anj-where 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 Benedict." " You've made up you're mind, then, that we marry them?" 300 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. " Of course I have, and for certain reasons ; other- wise 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 motive as myself for changing your senorita into a senora." " What do you allude to ? " " You forget that both these damsels have large properties in Spain, as worthy friend Martinez made me aware not long since. The Dona Carmen will in- herit handsomely at her father' s death, which is much the same as saj-ing now. I don't refer to his gold, but the landed property he has elsewhere, in Biscay, which, please the Fates, I shall some day look up, and take possession of. While the Dona Inez has no end of acres in Andalusia, besides whole streets of fine houses in Cadiz. To get all that, these girls must be our wives ; otherwise we should have no claim to it, nor be able to show our faces in the Peninsula." " I've known all along about the Andalusian estates. The old usurer told me, too ; said he'd advance mon- ey on them, if he were sure of my marrying the lady. But, if you believe me, it's not altogether the money that's moving me in this whole affair. I'm madly fond of the girl, so fond, that, if she hadn't a claco in the world, I would become her husband." " Sa} 7 , rather, her master, as I intend to be of Car- men Montijo. Once we get ashore, I'll teach her sub- mission. The haughty dame will learn what it is to be a wife; and if not an obedient one, then, por DiosI she shall have a divorce after I've squeezed out of her that Biscayan estate. Then she can go free, if it *o please her. Mira! what's up }-onder? " The interrogatory comes from his observing a group A STORY OP THE SOUTH SEA 301 of men assembled on the forecleck, alongside the hatcli. The sky cloudless, with a full moon overhead, shows it to be composed of nearly, if not all, the crew. The light also displays them in earnest gesticulation ; while their voices, borne aft, tell of some subject seriously debated. What can it be ? The men of the first watch, long since relieved, should be asleep in their bunks. Why are they now on deck? This of itself surprises the two at the wheel. And, while engaged in mutual inter- rogation, they perceive the second mate coming aft, as, also, that he makes approach in a hurried yet stealthy manner. " What's up? " asks Gomez. "Trouble," 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 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 deuse 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, and insisting on the same thing. They swear, if we don't divide equally, the strongest will take what they can. I've stolen aft to ask 3*ou what we'd best do." " They're determined, are they ? " " To the death they say so." " In that case," mutters Gomez, after a moment or two spent in reflection, " I suppose we'll have to yield 28 302 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. to their demands. I see no help for it. Go back, Padilla, and say something to pacify them. Maldital this is an unexpected difficulty, ugly as sin." Padilla is about to return to his discontented ship- mates on the forward-deck, but is saved the journe}', seeing them come aft. Nor do they hesitate to invade the sacred precincts of the quarter ; for they have no fear of being forbidden. Soon they mount up to the poop-deck, and cluster around the wheel ; the whole "Condor's" crew now present, mates as men, all save the captain and cook. And all take part in the colloquy that succeeds, either by speech or gestures. The debate is short, and the question in dispute soon decided. Harry Blew, backed by the ex-convicts, talks with determination, confirming it by emphatic exclama- tions. The others, with interests identical, stand by the two chief speakers, backing them up with words and cries of encouragement. " Shipmates," says the first officer, " this gold we're all after should be equally partitioned between us." "Must be!" adds Striker with an oath. "Share an' share alike. It'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." "Pegar! certainement," indorses the Frenchman. " Vat for no? Sacre bleu! ve vill. I am for les droits de matelot, le vrai democratique. Vive le fair play ! " Dane and Dutchman, with Tarry and Slush, speak in the same strain. The scene is short as violent. The Spaniards, perceiving themselves in a minorit}', and a position that threatens unpleasant consequences, give way, and consent to an equal distribution of the antici- pated spoil ; after which the men belonging to the off- A STOEY OF TELE SOUTH SEA 303 wa'ch retire to the forecastle, and there betake them- selves to their bunks, while the others scatter about the ship. Gil Gomez remains at the wheel, his "trick" not yet being over, Hernandez beside him. For a time the two are silent, their brows shadowed with gloom. I: .s not pleasant to lose some fifty thousand dollars apiece ; and this the}' have as good as lost within the last ten minutes. Still there is a reflection to soothe them : they can think of other bright skies ahead. Gomez first returning to speak of them, 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 XL. "LAND HO! " 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 in Carmen's case that was long years ago ; while Inez' absence from it has been too short to exempt her from the mal de mer; and both of them alike suffer from it. Stricken down by it, they are for several days confined to the cabin, most of the time to their state-room. In their affliction, the}' have not been so badly at- tended. The old negro cook, acting also as steward, 304 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. comes up to the occasion ; for he has a tender heart under his rough sable skin, and waits upon them with delicate assiduity. And Capt. Lantanas is equally assiduous in his attentions, placing most of his time at their disposal. In due course they recover, and after a day or two waiting for fine weather, venture upon deck. During their sojourn below, they have had no com- munication with any one, save Don Gregorio, who has been, like themselves, invalided, of course, also the captain and cook, but not any one 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. And now they wish to see Harry Blew, and speak with him, but cannot. Whatever the reason, they have been a long time upon deck without finding an oppor- tunity to communicate with him ; and they wait for it with irksome impatience. At length, however, it seems to have ai'rived. 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, they cannot avoid observing those be- eldc him, nor help being struck by them ; not so much their movements, as their features, and the expression there exhibited. On no one of them is it pleasant, but, on the contrary, scowling and savage. Just then Harry, 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 Capt. Lantanas for his first officer to meet him on the quarter-deck, and assist him in " taking the sun." But the skipper himself has not yet come 9p ; and, on reaching the quarter, the ex-man-o'- war's A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 305 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 scruti- nizing 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 parted, and who seem to have their eyes upon him. The young ladies thus repulsed, almost rudely as they take it, make no further attempt to bring on a conversation, but, forsaking their seats, retire down the companion-stairs, keeping 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 canvass the conduct of the Englishman, the stranger it seems to them, and the greater grows their chagrin. For now they feel almost sure that something must have happened, that same thing, whatever it be, which dictated those parting compliments so cold and unfeeling. They seem doubly so now ; for now they have evidence that such was the sentiment, almost proof of it in the behavior of Harry Blew. He must know the feelings of his patron, the preserver of his life, how the} r stood at their last parting ; and from this he has taken his cue to act as he is doing. Only in such sense can the ladies account for his reticence, if not rudeness, They are hurt by it, stung to the quick, and never again during that vo3*age do they attempt entering into conversation with the first officer of the ' ' Condor ; ' ' only on rare occasions showing themselves on deck, as 26 806 THE FLAG OF DISTKESS. if they disliked looking upon him who too vividly reminds them of the treason of their lovers. Can it be treason? And, if so, why? Ttey ask these questions with eyes bent upon their fingers, on rings encircling them, placed there by those they are thinking about. That of itself should be sufficient proof of their loyalty. Yet it is not ; for love is above all things suspicious ; however doting, ever doubting. Even on this evidence of its reliability they no longer lean, and can scarce console themselves with the hope hitherto sustaining them. Farther off than ever seems the realizing of that sweet expectation founded upon two words still ringing in their ears, " Hasla Cadiz! " And thus the time somewhat tediously passes, till they hear two other words of cheerful import, " Land Ho!" The cry comes from one of the sailors stationed on the foretopmast cross-trees of the " Condor." Since sunrise, a lookout has been kept as the hands could be spared. It is now near noon ; and land has just been sighted. Capt. Lantanas is not quite certain of what land it is. He knows it as the Veraguan coast, but does not recognize the particular place. Noon 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. And as the Chilian skipper is a skilled observer, having confidence in the observations he has made, the land sighted should be the Island of Coiba, or an islet 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 this the " Condor " is seeking to make entrance. Having ciphered out his noon reckoning, the skippei A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 307 enters it in his log : " Lat. 7 20' N. Long. 82 12' W. Win.d W.S.W. Light breeze." While penning these slight memoranda, little does he dream of what signifi- cance 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 mxny a chance against his ever making another entry in that log-book. A wind west-sou'-west is favorable for entering the Bay of Panama. A ship steering around Cabo Mala, once she has weathered this much-dreaded headland, will have it on her starboard quarter. But the " Con- dor," 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 play ful at meeting him ; then, ascending to the poop-deck, he enters into conversation with company more refined his lady passengers. . The sight of terra firma, with the thought of soon setting foot on it, makes all joyous ; and Capt. Lanta- nas 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 bark alongside the wharf of that ancient port, so oft pilJaged by filibusieros. After staying an hour or so on deck, indulging in cheerful conversation and pleasant anticipations, the tropic sun becoming too sultiy for comfort, one and all retire to the cabin for shade, and to take siesta; the last being a habit of all Spanish Americans. The Chilian skipper is also accustomed to have his afternoon 308 THE FLAG OP DISTRESS. nap. There is no need for his remaining longer on deck. He has determined his latitude, figured 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 any anxiety on his mind. 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 their having sighted land. For a time the "Condor'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, or 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 ; for the wind has been gradually dying away, and is now so light, that the vessel scarce makes steerage- way. Odd, though, the direction in which the breeze is now striking her. It is upon the starboard quarter, instead of the beam as it should be, and as Capt. Lantanas left it on going below. Since then the wind has not shifted, even a single point: therefore the " Condor " must have changed her course. Beyond doubt has she 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 her captain. Is it ignorance on the steersman's part? No : it can- not be. Gil Gomez is at the helm, and, being a tolera- ble seaman, should know how to handle it. Besides, Padilla is standing by ; and the second mate, whatever his moral qualities, is quite equal to the "conning" A STORY OFjTHE SOUTH SEA. 309 of a ship. He cannot fail to observe that the bark is running too much inshore. Why has he not obeyed the order* left by the captain?" The words passing between the two tell why. " You know a^l about the coast in there? " queries 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 the port-bow is Punta Marieta. "We must stand well in, taking care not to round it before evening. If we did, and the breeze should blow off shore, which it will, we'd have trouble to make back. Therefore we must hug close, and keep under shelter of the land. With this light wind we won't make much way before night- fall. Then, in the darkness, when they're below at dinner, we can put about, and run along till we sig/i'c a 'likely landing-place." " So far as being looked after by Lantanas, ve need have no fear. To-day the cabin-dinner is to be a grand spread. I overheard his orders to lL'*t effect. He intends making things pleasant for hi/ /-.^ssengers before parting with them. As a matter ol course, he'll keep all night below, and get fuddled to boot, which may spare us some trouble. It looks like "iuck, doesn't it?" "Not much matter about that," rejjins Gomez: " it'll have to end all the same. Only, aj you say, the skipper below will make it 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 wou't make this one an exception. If Don Gregorio and the skipper stay below " The dialogue is interrupted by the striking of bells, 310 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. to summofc the second dog-watch on duty. Soon a3 the change is effected,' Harry Blew takes charge, Striker relieving Gomez at the wheel. Just at this instant the head of Capt. Lantanas shows above the coamings of the companion-stair. Gomez, seeing him, darts back to the wheel, gives a strong pull at the spokes, Striker assisting him, so as to bring the bark's head up, and the wind upon her beam. 4 ' Good heavens ! ' ' exclaims the skipper angrily, rushing up the companion-stair, and out to the rail. What sees he there to evoke such an exclamation ? A high promontory, almost abutting against the bows of his ship. At a glance he identifies it as Punta Marieta ; for he knows the headland well, but also knows it should not be on the bow, had his instructions to the steersman been attended to. " Que cosa?" he cries in a bewildered way, rubbing his eyes to make sure they are not deceiving him, then interrogating, "What does this mean, sir? You've been keeping too close inshore : the very contrary to what I commanded. Helm down hard ! " He at the wheel obeys, bringing the bark as close to the wind as she can bear. Then the skipper, turning angrily upon him, demands to know why his first in- structions 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 " Con- dor " on the same course she was in when he took her from the last steersman. 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 he can perceive there will be no difficulty in yet clearing the point, his anger cools down. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 311 Soon the " Condor," hauled close to the wind, regains her lost weatherway, sufficient for the doubling of Punta Marieta ; and, before the last bells of the second dog-watch are sounded, she is in a fair course for rounding the cape. The difficulty has been removed by the wind veering suddenly round to the opposite point of the compass. For it is now near night, and the land-breeze has commenced blowing off shore. Well acquainted with the coast, and noticing the change of wind, Capt. Lantanas knows all danger is past ; and, with the tranquillit}'' of his temper restored, he goes back into his cabin to join his passengers at dinner, which is just in the act of being served. CHAPTER XLI. PANAMA, OR SANTIAGO? IT is the hour for setting the first night-watch ; and the bells have been struck, not to summon any sailor, but only intended for the ears of Capt. Lan- tanas in the cabin below, lest the absence of the usual sound should awake suspicion. The men of both watches are on deck, assembled by the manger-board, to take measures for carrying out their scheme of piracy and plunder, now on the eve of execution. The gen- eral 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, Harry Blew, in their midst. O man! O British sailor! where is your gratitude? 312 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. What has become of your honor your oath? The first gone, the second disregarded, the last broken ! Soon as together, the pirates enter upon discussion. The first question which comes before them is about the place where they shall land. Upon this point there is difference of opinion. Some are for going ashore at once, on that part of the coast in sight. Others coun- sel running on till they enter Panama Bay. At the head of those in favor of the latter course is the chief mate ; while the majority, controlled by Gomez and Padilla, take an opposite view. Gomez, who is their spokesman, argues in favor of landing, soon as they can find a suitable place, and making direct for San- tiago, the chief town of Veragua. He gives his rea- sons, saying, " It isn't over a good day's journey from the coast. And we can reach it by an easy road. But that's not the thing 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 those 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 in a breath. "We'll first have to put about," explains Gomez, " and run along the coast* till we find an opening in the reef." " Yes," rejoins Harry Blew, speaking satirically, and as if annoyed by the majority going against him. "An', if we put about just now, we'll stand a good chance of goin' slap on ttein rocks on the port-beam. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 313 Thar's a line o' whitecaps 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," admits Gomez, "but not continuous. I remember there are several openings where a boat, or a ship for that matter, may be safely got through." " Vaya, camarados! " exclaims Padilla with a ges- ture of impatience. " We're wasting time, which just now is valuable. Let's have the bark 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." "Yes, all of us." " Well, shipmates," says Harry Blew, seeing him self obliged to give way, and conceding the point with apparent reluctance, "if ye 're all in favor o' steerin* up coast, I an't goin' to stand out against it. It be the same to me one way or t'other. So to Santiago let's go. But, if the bark's to be put about, I tell ye there's no time to be lost : otherwa}'s, we'll go into them whitecaps sure, the which wud send this craft to Davy Jones sooner than we intended." " Plenty of sea-room," says the second mate, "if we about with her at once." " You see to it, Padilla," directs Gomez, who, from Ids success in having his plan adopted in opposition to that of the first officer, thinks he may now take command. The second mate starts aft, and, going up to the helmsman, whispers a word or two in his ear. In- stantly the helm is put hard up ; and the bark, payino 1 off, wears round from east to west-nor'-west. The 27 314 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 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 shadows. The bark is now about a league's distance from land ; and halfway between are the breakers, their roar sounding ominously through the calm quiet of the night. The vessel making but little way, only two or 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 along- side in safety. As this will be so much work in ad- vance, the plan is approved of, and they proceed to its execution ; the pinnace being selected as the most suitable boat for beaching. Clustering around it, they commence operations. Two leap lightly into it, 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 are clear for running. Then, talcing a proper turn, they lower away. Other movements succeed ; the pirates passing to and from the forecastle, carrying canvas bags, and bundles of clothing, with such other of their belong- ings as they deem necessary for a debarkation like that intended. A barrel of pork, another of biscuit, and a beaker of water, are also turned out, and handed down into the boat, not forgetting a keg containing rum, and several bottles of wine they have purloined from the ship's stores. In silence, but with no great show of caution or stealth, are all these movements made. They have but Uttle feax of being detected ; some scarce caring if they A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 315 oe. Indeed, there is no one to observe them who is not 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 steward, keeps below in the cabin, waiting on the guests at table. Soon every thing is stowed awaj 1 - in the pinnace, except that which is to form its most precious freight ; and again the piratical crew bring their heads together to arrange about the final step, the time to take which is fast drawing nigh. A thing so serious calls for calm deliberation ; or, at all events, there must be a thorough understanding among them, for it is the disposal of those they have destined as the victims of their villany. All quite understand how this is to be done, though nothing definite has yet been said of it : even the most hardened among them shrinks from putting it in plain words. Still is it tacitly understood the ladies are to be taken along, the others to be dealt with in a different way. For a time they stand silent, waiting for one who has the hardihood to speak. There is one who has all this, a ruffian of unmitigated type, whose breast is not moved by the slightest throb of humanity. It is the second mate, Padilla. Breaking silence, he says, " Let's get the women into the boat, and heave the others overboard, and have done with it." The horrible proposition, despite the auditory to whom it is addressed, does not find favorable 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 con- template murder in such a cool, deliberate manner. Some of those around him have no doubt committed it ; but he does not yet feel up to it. Opposing lM 316 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. dilla's counsel, he says, "What need for our killin' them at all? For my part, I don't see any." "And, for your part, what would you do?" sneer- ingly retorts the second mate. " Give them a chance for their lives." " How? " promptly asks Padilla. " Why, if we set the bark's head out to sea, and trim her sails right, as the wind's off-shore, she'd soon carry them beyont sight o' land ; and we'd niver hear another word about 'em." "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, if not the whole of the earth, 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 know it to be a true one. 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 killing them ; 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 do as he says would be madness on our part, more, it might be suicide. I think I know a way that will save us from actually murdering them, and secure our own safety all the same." " What way? " demand several voices. "One simple enough, so simple, I wonder you Vaven't all thought of it, as well as I. Of course we A STORY OP THE SOUTH SEA. 317 inteud sending this prettj craft .o the bottom of the sea ; but she is not likely to go down till we're a good way off, altogether out of sight. We can leave them aboard, and let them slip quietly down along with her." u 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 off her when she sinks, on a sofa, or spar, or something." "Then how would you do with them?" asks one impatiently. "Bind the gentlemen before bidding them adieu." "Bah! " exclaims Padilla, a monster to whom cold blood seems congenial. " What's the use of being at all that bother ? It's sure to bring trouble. 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. So let's put a stopper on them at once ! " "Why, man!" cries Striker, hitherto only a lis- tener, but a backer of Harry Blew : " 3 r ou 'pear to 'a been practisin' a queery plan in jobs o' this sort. That o' Gomez be far the best way, same as I've seed in the Australian bush, where they an't so blood- thirsty. 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, supposin' 'em to show refractory?" "That's it!" exclaims Davis, strengthening the proposal thus indorsed by his chum Striker. " My ole pal's got the correct idea of sich things." "Besides," continues the older of the ex-comicts 27* 318 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. " this job seems to me simple enuf. We want the swag ; an' some seems to 6e wantin' the gals. Well, we can git both 'ithout the needcessity o' doin' mur- der!" "I tell j'ou what," interposes Harry Blew, " fcr myself, as I've said, I object to killing, or the sight o' blood, where it an't a absolute needcessity. True, by leavin' them aboard, an' tied, as Mr. Gomez advises ; they'll get drowned for sartin ; but it'll keep our hands clear o' red murder." " That's true ! " cry several in assent. "Let's take the Australian way of it, and tie them up ! " The assenting voices are in the majority ; and the compromise suggested by Gomez is carried. So far every thing is fixed. It but remains to arrange about the action, and apportion to every one his part. This is soon settled. The first officer, assisted by Davis, who has some knowledge of ship carpentry, is to see to the Bcuttling of the vessel ; Velarde and Hernandez to take charge of the girls, and get them into the boat ; Gomez to see to the steering of the vessel ; the second mate to head the party intrusted with the seizure of the gold ; while Striker and the Frenchman are to tie up the unfortunate men whose lives are to be sacrificed. The atrocious plan is complete in all its revolting de- tails, the hour of its execution at hand. A STOEY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 319 CHAPTER XLH. THE DREADED TINTOKEKA8. WITH all sail set, the bark glides silently on to her doom. Gomez has taken charge of the steering, he alone having any knowledge of the coast. They are less than a league from land, shaving close along the outer edge of the breakers. The breeze now blowing off-shore makes it easy to keep clear of them. There is high land on the starboard-bow, gradually drawing more distinct. Gomez fancies he remembers it, and soon is sure ; for in the clear moonlight is dis- closed 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. Yes, he is certain he has seen that double-headed hill before : still, though a conspicuous landmark, it does not point out any landing-place, only that they are entering the great gulf which here indents the Veraguan coast. As the bark moves on, bringing the hill abeam, he sees a reach of clear water opening inland ; to all ap- pearance a bay, with mouth miles in width. .He would run into it, but is forbidden by the break- ers, whose froth-crested belt extends across its entrance from cape to cape. Running past, he again closes on the land, now within Jess than a league, and soon has the two-headed hill abeam, its singular silhouette con- spicuous against the moonlit sky, all the more from the 820 THE FLAG OP DISTRESS. moon being beyond and low down, showing betweet the twin summits like a great globe lamp there suspend- ed. When nearly opposite, he observes an open space in the line of breakers, easily told by its dark tranquil surface, which contru&ts with the white horse-tails lash- ing up on each side of it. Soon as sighting it, Gomez drops the wheel, intrust- ing it to the Dutch sailor as he does so, giving the latter directions how to steer. Then leaving 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 main-hatchway, which they have opened, evidently 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 seems reluctant to proceed in the black business, while affecting the opposite. As the others are now occupied in various ways, with their eyes off 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. There is sign of more than one emotion striving within his breast, mingling together, or succeeding each other, quick as the changing hues of the chameleon. Now it seems guilty cupidity, now A STOEY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 321 remorse, anon the dark shadow of despair. The last growing darker, he draws nearer to the side, and looks more earnestly over, as if about to plunge into the sea, and so rid himself of a life ever after to be a burden. "While standing thus, apparently hesitating as to whether he should drown himself, and have done with it, soft voices sound in his ears, mingling their tones with the breeze as it sighs through the rigging of the ship. Simultaneously there is a rustling of dresses ; and, the moment after, he sees two female forms, robed in white, with shawls over their shoulders, and ker- chiefs covering their heads. Stepping out on the quarter-deck, they stand for a short while, the moon shining on their faces, both bright and cheerful as her beams. Then they stroll aft, little dreaming of the doom that awaits them. Their unsuspecting innocence should soften his trai- torous heart. Instead, it seems to steel it the more, as if their presence but recalled, and quickened within him, some vow of revenge. He hesitates no longer, but, gliding back to the hatch, climbs over its coamings, and, lantern in hand, descends into the hold, there to do a deed which light of moon or sun should not shine upon. Though within the tropics, and but a few degrees from the equatorial line, there is dullness in the air of the night, now nearing its mid-hours. Drawing their cloaks closely around them, the young ladies mount up to the poop, and stand resting their hands sn the taffrail. For a time they are silent, their eyes turned astern, watching the foam in the ship's wake lit up with dancing phosphorescence. They observe other sparkling scintillations beside those in the " Condor's" 822 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. wake. There are broad splatches of it all over tho surface of the sea, with here and there elongated sillons, seemingly made by some creatures in motion, swim- ming parallel to the ship's course, and keeping pace with her. The two girls have not voyaged through thirty degrees of the Pacific Ocean to be now told what these are. They know them to be sharks, as also that some of larger size and brighter luminosity are those of the tintorera, that species so much dreaded by the pearl-divers of Panama Bay and the Gulf of Califor- nia. This night, both tiburones and tintoreras are more numerous than they have before observed them, closer also to the vessel's side ; for the sharks, obser- vantly, have seen a boat lowered down, which gives anticipation of prey 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 in the midst of those horrid creatures ! One wouldn't have the slight- est chance of being saved. Only to think how little space there is between us and certain death ! You 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 giddj', and drop over into its jaws. Sobrina, are you not glad we're BO 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 Bee Spain, we've another equally as long." "True, as long in duration and distance; but A STORY OP THE SOUTH SEA. 323 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 Capt. 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 jon 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, to enliven one. Well, I suppose there will be in the big steamer ; like enough a half-score of our mustached militarios, returning from Cuba and other colonies. Wouldn't that make our Atlantic voyage enjoyable?" " Not mine, nothing of the sort, as you know, Inez. To speak truth, it was neither the loneliness nor mo- notony 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 any thing to do with those cold part- ing compliments, and the informal leave-taking? Of course it has. Come, Carmen ! You promised me jou'd think no more about that till we see them in Cadiz, and have it all cleared up." 324 THE FLAG Otf DISTRESS. " You're wrong again, Inez. It is not any thing of them." "What then? It can't be the mal de mert Of it / might complain. I'm even suffering from it now, although the sea is so calm. But }-ou why, }'ou stand the sea as well as one of those rough sailors them- selves ! 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 sailing all round the world with him." "You're merry, mora." "Well, who wouldn't be, with the prospect of so soon setting foot on land ? For my part, I detest the sea ; and, when I many my little guardia-marina, I'll make him forsake it, and take to some pleasanter pro- fession. 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 come, Carmen ! Tell me what's troubling you ? Surely you must know it." " Surely I don't, Inez. I can't tell myself." " 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 inter- view we saw sprawling in the road-dust? You ought to feel relieved at getting rid of him, as I of my im- portunate 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-by ! 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 A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 325 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 appear to have been four of them, two were no other than our old acquaintances," she had almost said suitors ; but the word gives her a spasm of pain, " Francisco de Lara and Faustino Calderon." " Maria de merced! " exclaims Inez. " It's fright- ful to think of such a thing. And we ought to be thankful to the good saint for saving us from such vil- lains, as 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 great 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 Don Francisco from going after Sefior Crozier, and trying to kill him, any way he can. I have a fear he'll follow him is after him now." " What if he is? Your fiance can take care of him- self, as so can mine if Calderon should get it into his silly head to go after him. Let them go, so long as they don't come after us ; wljich they're not 1'kely all the way to Spain." 28 326 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. " I'm not so sure of that. Such as they may maae their way anywhere. Professional gamblers, as we now know them to be, travel to all parts of the world. All cities give them the same opportunity to pursue their outlawed calling: why not Cadiz? But* Inez, there's something I haven't told you, thinking you might make mock of it. I've had u fright more than once, several times, since we came aboard the ' Con- dor.' " " 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 impa- tience." " About the sailors on board. All have bad faces ; some of them like very demonios. But there's one has particularly impressed me. Would you believe it, Inez ? he has eyes exactly like De Lara's ! His fea- tures, too, resemble those of Don Francisco, only that the sailor has a great beard and whiskers, while he had none. Of course, the resemblance can be only acciden- tal. 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 look- ing straight at me, staring in the most insolent man ner. I had half a mind to complain to Capt. 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 springing up to the poop, as if he had risen A STOKY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 327 out cl 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 are 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 ap- proaches Inez. It is Hernandez, who offers his ser- vices in a similar strain. For a moment the young ladies are speechless through sheer surprise. 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 attempting to retreat towards the com- panion-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. Even their cries are hindered by huge woollen caps drawn over their heads, and down to their chins, almost stifling them. Though no longer seeing, and but 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 terrilie tintoreras they law keeping company with the ship. 828 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. CHAPTER XLIH. THE BARK ABANDONED. O1IMULTANEOUS with the abduction on deck, k^ there is a scene in the "Condor's" cabin that 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 ; these heavy and hurried, bearing no resemblance to the gentle tread of women. It cannot be the ladies coming down again. Nor yet the negro cook, since his voice is heard above in angry expostulation ; for two of the sailors have 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. The}' hear his shouts, with the shrieks of the ladies, but have no time to seek explanation, as at that instant the door is dashed open, and several sailors burst in, the second mate at their head. Lantanas, facing 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, reckless 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 the}' sit bolt upright, firm as bollard heads, though not in silence. Bo J) utter threats, oaths, angry A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 829 fulminations . Not long are they allowed even freedom of speech. One of the sailors thrusts something be- tween Capt. Lantanas' teeth, gagging him. Another, ready prepared for remonstrance, does the like foi Don Gregorio. Then the work of pillage proceeds. The locker-lids are forced, and the boxes of gold-dust dragged out. Several comings and goings are re- quired 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, they 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 apostrophizes them in horrid mocker}- : " Carramba! I can't think of leaving two gentlemen seated at such a well-furnished table, without being able to hob-nob, and converse with one another." Specially addressing Lantanas, he continues, " You see, captain, I'm not spiteful ; else I shouldn't think of showing you this bit of civilit}', after the insults you've offered me since I've been second officer of your ship." Then approaching Don Gregorio angrily, he shrieks into his ear, "Perhaps you don't remember me, Montijo. But I do you. Can } T our worship recall a circumstance that occurred some six years ago, when you were 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 indig- nity you put upon me. Keep your seats, gentlemen I 28* 330 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. Drink your wine, and eat your walnuts. Before 3-011' ve cleared the table, this fine bark, 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 clanging the door behind him. On deck he finds himself alone, and, huriying to the ship's waist, scrambles over the side, down into the pinnace, where he finds every thing stowed, the oarsmen seated pn the thwarts, their oars in the row- locks, ready to shove off. They are not all there j r et. The first mate and Davis are still aboard the vessel. There are those who would gladly cast loose, and leave the laggards behind. 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 pa} r s no heed to the hypocritical speech, but calls to his fellow-convict and Harry Blew, alternately pronouncing their names. He at length gets response, and soon after sees Davis above, clambering over the rail. Blew is not far off, but still does not appear. He is by the foot of the mainmast with a halyard in his hands, as though hoisting something aloft. The moon has become clouded, and it is too dark for any vme to see what it is. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 331 u Hillo, there, Blew!" again hails Striker: 'what oe a-keepin' } r e ? Hurry down ! These Spanish chaps are threetnin' to go off without ye." " Hang it ! " exclaims the chief mate, now showing at the side. " I hope that an't true ! " "Certainly not!" exclaims Padilla, "nothing of tl.e kind. We were only afraid you might delay too long, and be in danger of going down with the vessel." "Not much fear o' that," returns Blew, dropping with Davis 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 last at the wheel. "All right: shove off, then! That wind'll take the old "Condor" straight seawart; an', 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 bark, with all sail still spread, is left to herself and the breeze, which wafts her gently away towards the wide wilder- ness 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. Ahead they see the two summits, with the moon just going down between them. The shore outHne is a cove of horseshoe shape, the cliifs extending aiound it. With a few more strokes, the boat is brought into it, and glides on to its inner- most end. As the keel grates upon its shingly strand, their ears we saluted by a chorus of cries, the alarm signal of 332 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. sea-birds, startled by the intrusion. Some fly up fr m the beach, others from ledges along the cliff's face. The scream of the sea-eagle can be distinguished like the laugh of a maniac. These sounds, notwithstand- ing their discordance, are sweet to those now hearing them. They tell of a shore uninhabited, literally, that the " coast is clear," just as desired. Beach- ing their boat, the pirates spring on shore, and lift the captives out, then their 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 moving inland. Between the strand and the cliff's base, they discover a place, several feet above sea-level, having an area of over an acre, covered with coarse grass, just the spot for camping-ground. 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 honc} T - combed 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 atti- tudes, some reclined on their spread pilot-coats, some seated on stones or canvas bags, they enter upon a debauch with the wine abstracted from the cabin-stores of the abandoned bark, drinking, talking, singing, and shouting, till the cavern rings with their rude revelry. It is well their captives are not compelled to take part in it. To them has been appropriated one of the smaller grottoes, the boat-sail fixed in front, securing them privacy. Har.\y Blew has done this. In the breast of the British mau-o'-war's-man there ia A STORY OP THE SOUTH SEA. 333 still a spark of delicacy. Though his gratitude has given way to the greed of gold, he has not yet sunk to the low level of 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 firma- ment ; thunder rolls reverberating along the cliffs ; a strong wind sweeps them ; and rain rushes down in torrents. It is a tropic storm, shortlived, lasting scarce an hour ; but, while on, it lashes the sea into fury, driving the breakers upon the beach, where the boat has been left loosely moored. In the reflux of the ebbing tide, it is set afloat, and carried away seaward. Coming upon the coral reef, it bilges, is broken to pieces ; and the fragments, as waifs, dance about, and drift far away over the foam-crested billows. CHAPTER XLIV. TWO TARQUINS. IT is an hour after midnight. A calm has succeeded the storm ; and silence reigns around the cove where the pirates have put in. The sea-birds have returned to their perches on the cliff, and now sit noise- lessly, save an occasional angry scream from the osprey, as a whippoorwill, or some other plumed plunderer of the night, flits past his place of repose, near enough to wake the tyrant of the seashore, and excite his jealous rage. Other sounds are the dull boom of the outside 334 THE FLAG OP DISTRESS. breakers, and the lighter ripple of the tidal waves washing over a strand rich in shells, and coral worn by attrition into a thousand shapes. Now and then a manatee, raising its bristled snout above the surf, gives out a low, prolonged wail, like the cry of some creature in mortal agon}*. It might be mistaken for the moan of a human being, whose spirit is sorely oppressed. But there is no human voice now. The ruffians have ended their carousal. Their profane songs, ribald jests, . and drunken cachinnations, 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 only their snores and ster- torous breathing. But they are not all asleep, nor all inside the cavern. Two are outside, seen making approach towards the grotto occupied by the captive girls. As the moon has 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 in the habiliments of landsmen, this the national costume of Spanish California. On their heads are sombreros of ample brim ; on their legs, trousers, open- seamed, flapping loose around their ankles ; while over their shoulders they carry cloaks, which, by their pecu- liar drape, are recognizable as mangas of Mexico. In the obscurity, the color cannot be determined ; but one is scarlet, the other sky-blue. As dressed now, it would be difficult to identify these men as Gomez and Hernandez. Yet it is they. They are approaching the grotto without any show of fear, or even caution ; slowly, and in conversation. Gomez has commenced it, saying, "I've been thinking, companero, now we've got A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 835 every tiling straight so far, that our best plan will be to stay where we are till it's all fixed as we want it. We can send on for the padre, and bring him here ; or, fail- ing him, the cura. To tell truth, I haven't the slightest idea of where we've come ashore. We may be a good- ish 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?" " Si ciertamente ! " " Against risk of that kind, it is necessary we should take some precautions. And the first, as also the best I can think of, is to stay here till we're spliced to our sweethearts. Kafael can act as a messenger, or, for that matter, Don Manuel. Either, with six words I shall intrust to him, will be certain to bring back an ecclesiastic having full powers to go through the form of a ceremony. Then we can march inland without fear, a} r , with flying colors ; both Benedicts, our blushing brides on our arms. In Santiago de Vcragua we shall spend our 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 nup- tials?" "Certainly not." 4 ' In what way is it to 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 stowed away his share, I intend proposing that we separate, every one to go his own gait." 336 THE FLAG OF DISTEESS. ' ' Will they agree to that, think 3-011 ? ' ' "Of course they will. Why shouldn't they? It'a the safest way for all, and they'll see it. Tweh e 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 con- siderate for their own safety. Trust me for making it clear. Of course, we'll keep Padilla and Velarde 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. No danger now." "I suppose 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 hand and heart at her feet." Saj'ing which, Gomez strides on towards the grotto, the other after, like two Tarquins about to invade the sleep of innocence. Though the cave is in darkness, its occupants are not asleep. To them repose is impossible. They are experiencing the keenest anguish possible to human heart. They have passed through its first throes, and are for the time calmer ; but it is the tranquillity of despair, of deep deadening grief. They mourn him dearest to them dead. They have no doubt that he is so. How could they? While in the boat, they heard their captors speak about the scuttling of the ship, well knowing what was meant. Long since has she gone to the bottom of the sea, with the living, or perhaps only A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 337 their lifeless bodies ; for they may have been murdered before being abandoned. No matter now in what way death came to them. Enough of sadness and horror to think it has come, without speculating on details ; 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 of the crime, resulting in a conspiracy, 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, much more speak of to one another. What is to be their own fate ? They can neither tell nor guess. In their affliction, their thoughts are too distracted for calm or clear reasoning. But, in the midst of vague visions, one assumes a shape too well defined, with darkest shadows filling up the outline. 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. What has happened, and those voices we heard, tell me my suspicions have been correct." " 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 interrogator}* is only answered by a sigh. The proud spirit of the Andalusian girl, habitually cheerful, is now crashed by a weight of wretchedness enough to steep it in despair. After a time the}' again exchange speech, seeking counsel of one another. Is there no hope, no hand to help, no one to whom they may tarn iu this hour of dread ordeal? 29 338 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. No, not one ! Even the English sailor, in whom they had trusted, has proved untrue ; to all appear- ance, from what they have seen and heard, chief of the traitorous crew. Every human being seems to have abandoned them. Has God ? "Let us pray to him ! " saj-s Carmen. " Yes," answers Inez. " He only can help us now." They kneel side by side on the hard, cold floor of the cavern, 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 pro- tection for themselves, against a danger both dread more than death itself. They pray in trembling ac- cents, but with a fervor eloquent through fear. Sol- emnly pronouncing ' ' Amen ! ' ' they make the sign of the cross. As their hands drop down from the gesture, and while the} 7 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 sail-cloth is pushed aside, and two men press past it into the cave. Soon as entering, one sa}-s, " 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 honor 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 can- not be gathered from any reply, since none is vouch- safed, 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, it's not strange you A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 339 not. 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 con- cealed beneath his cloak. As it lights up the grotto, four figui es are seen erect ; for the girls have sprung to their f9et in apprehension of immediate danger. Upon all, the light shines clear ; and, fronting her, Carmen Montijo sees too surely recognizing it the face c f 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 Caiifornian 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, we have come together again. No doubt you're a little surprised at our presence, but I hope not anno3 r ed." There is no reply to his 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 ! " indorses Calderon. " We mean you no harm, none whatever." " On the contrary," goes on De Lara, " only good. We've nothing but favors to offer you." " Don Francisco de Lara," says 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 ? ' ' 340 THE FLAG OF DISTEESS. " 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 uneasj about him. He's safe enough." * ' Safe ! Dead I Drowned ! ' ' " 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's sailing upon its surface ; and is likely to be, for no one 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 Calde- ron 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 direc- tion. 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, releasing her hand from his, and flinging him off 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 3" on supposed you'd done with me. Not A STOK.Y OF THE SOUTH SEA. 341 BO, aa you see now. "We're together again, never more to part till I've had satisfaction for every injury received at your hands. I once hinted, and now tell you plainly, you've made a mistake in trifling with Francisco de Lara." ' ' I never trifled with you, senor. What means this ? Man, if you be a man, have mercy! Oh! vrhat would you? what would you? " ' ' Nothing to call for such distracted entreaty. On the contrary, I've brought j r ou here for I'll not deny that it's I who have done it to grant you favors, instead of asking them, or even satisfying resentments. What I intend towards you, I hope you'll appreciate. To shorten explanations (for which we've neither op- portunity nor time), I want you for my wife, want you, and will have you." " Your wife ! " " Yes, my wife. You needn't look surprise, nor counterfeit feeling it ; and equally idle for you to make opposition. I've determined upon it. Senorita, you must marry 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 to- gether, 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 29* 342 THE FLAG OF DISTEESS. Carmen ! those are ray 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 pre- sented, death, or dishonor ; 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 does Inez answer her cow- ardly 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 : 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 Alverez, will be called Dona Inez Calderon. No need for you to feel dishonored by a name among the best in Calfornia, noble as your own, ay, or any in Spain." " Hasta manana, muchachas!" salutes De Lara. rc Pasan Vos buenanochef" ("Till morning, ladies- good-night!") A STORY OP THE SOUTH SEA. 343 Cal Jeron repeating the same formulary of speech, the two step towards the entrance, lift up the piece of suspended sail-cloth, and pass out into the night. They take the lantern along with them, again leaving the grotto in darkness. The girls grope their way till they touch each other ; then, closing in an agonized embrace, they sink together uoon the floor of the cabin. CHAPTER XLV. OCEAN WARD 8. A NOTHER day dawns over the great South Sea. jLJL 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 ob- server, 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 In- dian balza, 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 an offing that extends to the horizon itself. Not always can these be seen ; for the commerce of the Pacific is slight com- pared with that of the Atlantic, and large ships pass- ing along; the coast of Veragua are few and far between, 344 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. On this morning, however, one is observed, and only 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 sup- posing 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 bark. For she is one ; and could the observer, through his glass, make out the lettering upon her stern, he would there read the 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 mon- strous creatures covered with rust-colored hair, mock- ing counterfeits of humanity. Equall}- 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 her galley, and there behold a black man sitting upon its bench, who does not so much as rise to receive him ; nor } T et, descending her cabin-stair, to see a table profusely spread, at either end a guest, alike uncourteous in keeping their seats, on the faces of both an expression of agonized despair. And all this might be seen on board the Chilian vessel on the morning after abandonment by her traitorous and piratical crew. A fearful night has it been for the three unfortunate men left in her, more especially the two constrained to A. STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 346 ait at her cabin-table ; for both have other thoughts, more bitter than confinement, enough to fill the cup of their anguish to the very brim. They did not yield unresistingly. Even the gentle skipper struggled, stormed, and threatened, till overpowered by brute force, and firmly bound. In like manner had Don Gregorio behaved, till resistance was of no avail, then making appeal to the humanity only of his assailants, to find this alike idle. A dread hour that for the ex- haciendado. Not because of Ms treasure, the bulk of his fortune, borne off before his eyes, but from the double shriek, which at the instant reached him from the deck, announcing the seizure of that more dear. Carmen and Inez were evidently made captive ; and, from their cries suddenly ceasing, he dreaded some- thing worse. Had they been stifled by death? Being reminded of an event in Yerba Buena, as also the recognition of the ruffian who taunted him, but made it the more probable that death 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 endeavoring 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 are thus charitably judging him, they receive a crushing response. Just then, to their astonishment, they hear his voice among the mutineers, not in expos- tulation, or opposed, but as if taking part with them. One Striker is calling out his name, to which he answers ; and, soon after, other speeches from his lips sound clear through the cabin- windows, open on that mild moonlit night. Still listening, as they gaze in 346 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. one another's face with mute, painful surprise, they hear a dull thud against the ship's side, the stroke of a boat-hook as the pinnace is 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 recedes, leaving the abandoned vessel silent as a graveyard in the mid-hour of night. Seated with face towards the cuddy windows, Don Gregorio can see through them ; and as the bark's bow rises on the swell, depressing her aft, he commands a view of the sea far astern. There upon the surface he makes out a dark object moving away. It is a boat filled with forms, the oar- blades rising and falling in measured stroke, flashing the phosphorescence on both sides. No wonder at his earnest look as he bends his eyes on that boat, a gaze of concentrated anguish. It contains all that is dear to him, bearing that all away, he knows not whither, to a fate which chills his ver}- blood to reflect upon. He can trace the outlines of land beyond, and can per- ceive that the boat is being rowed for it ; the bark at the same time sailing seaward, each instant widening the distance between them. But for a long while he can distinguish the black speck with luminous jets on either side, as the oar-blades intermittent!}" rise and fall in the clear moonlight, till at length, entering within the shadow of the land, a line of high cliffs, he loses sight of it. " Gone, all gone ! " groans the bereaved father, his beard drooping down to his breast, his countenance showing he has surrendered up his soul to a despair hopeless as helpless. So, too, Lantanas, who has ceased struggling and shouting. Both are now alike A STOKY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 347 convin3ed of the idleness of such demonstrations. The chief offictr a mutineer, so must all the others ; and all have forsaken the ship. No, not all. There is one remains true, who is still on her, the black cook. They hear his voice, though not with any hope. It comes from a distant part in shouts and cries betoken- ing distress. They need look for no help from him. He is either disabled, or, like themselves, securely bound. Throughout the night they hear it ; the inter- vals between becoming longer, the voice fainter, till lie, also, yielding to despair, is silent. As the morning sun shines in through the stern win- dows, 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 bark 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 con- strained to sit at her cabin table ! "With it in 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 hag- gard in their chairs, for no sleep has visited the eyes of either, like men who have been all night long en- gaged in a drunken debauch. Alas, how different ! The glasses of wine before them are no longer touched, the fruits untasted. Neither the bouquet of the one, nor the perfume of the other, has any attraction for them now. Either is as much beyond their reach as if a thousand miles off, instead of on a six-foot table between them. Gazing in one another's faces, they & 348 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. times fancy it a dream. They can scarcely bring them- selves to realize such a situation ; as 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 the phantasma- goria of some fleeting but horrible vision CHAPTER XLVI. AN AWKWARD QUESTION. THE same sun that shines upon the abandoned bark lights up the crew that abandoned her, on the same spot where they have made landing. As the first rays fall over the cliffs crest, they show a cove of semicircular shape, backed by a beetling precipice. A ledge or dike, 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 occupj-ing the inner concavity of the semicircle. The beach is not visible from it, this concealed by the dry reef which runs across it as a cord. 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 muti- A STOEY OP THE SOUTH SEA. 349 neers have made landing, and passed the night. When the day dawns, but little is seen to betray their presence there, only a man seated upon a stone, nodding as if asleep, at intervals awakening with a start, and grasp- ing ac 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 of the night. He would be a poor sentinel, were there need for vigilance. Seem- ingly there is none. No enemy is near, no, human being in sight ; the only animate objects some sea-birds, 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, stop- ping 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 scream- ing ; 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 him- self 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 in motion. To reach the strand, 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 ! " 30 350 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. 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, then ! We want no boats now." " A horse would be more to our purpose," suggests a second, " or, for that matter, a dozen of them." *' A dozen donkeys would do," adds a third, accom- panying his remark with a horse-laugh. " It'll take about that many to pack our chattels." " 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 landed, and left the boat. They 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 darsay, it's broke to bits on them theer breakers." All now remember that 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 arraj- 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 bark. Every one rigged out in his own peculiar style, they draw together to deliberate on a plan of future action. Breakfast has been already eaten ; and now comes the matter of greatest moment, the partition of the spoils. A STORY OP THE SOUTH SEA, 351 It is done 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 appor- tioned to each, round and round. In money value no one knows the exact amount of his share ; enough satisfaction to feel 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 now 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 reason. Such a large number of pedestrians along roads where none save horsemen are ever seen could not fail to excite curiosity. It might cause incon- venient questions to be asked them, perhaps lead to their being arrested, and taken before some village alcalde. If so, what story could they tell ? On the other hand, there will be the chance of com- ing across Indians ; and as those on the Veraguan coast are ranked among the " bravos," having pre- served their independence, and, along with it, their instinctive hostility to the whites, an encounter with them might be even more dangerous than with an}" alcalde. Struggling along in squads of two or three, they would run a risk of getting captured, or killed and scalped, perhaps all three. This is the suggestion of Harry Blew; Striker and Davis alone favoring 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 352 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. apprehended from white ones. As the majority have more reason to fear civilized 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 amply provided for playing an independent part in the drama of their future lives ; and, with this pleasant prospect, they may part company without a sigh of regret. Ah! something yet, still another question to be determined. The female captives : how are they to be disposed of? They are still within the grotto, unseen, as the sail-cloth curtains it. Breakfast has been taken to them, which they have scarce touched ; and the time has come for deciding what has to be done with them. No one openly asks, or sa}*s a 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. There is a sort of tajcit impression there will be diffi- culty 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, uncon- tested these, Gomez and Hernandez. As they had been the original designers of the foul deed now done, their confederates, rough men of a different stamp, little given to love-making, had either not thought about the women, or deemed their possession of secon- dary 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. The mode of making their journey having been defin- itively settled, there is a short interregnum, during A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 353 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 inland. 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. They 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 the theme of woman could kindle these fiery glances. At length the dreaded interrogatory is put; and Gomez answers, " They'll, of course, go with us, with Senor Hernandez and myself." "I don't see an}^ of course about it," says Blew. "And, more'n that, I tell ye they don't go with ye : leastwise, not so cheap as 3-011 think for." "What do 3"ou mean, Mr. Blew?" demands the Spaniard, his eyes showing anger, at the same time a certain uneasiness. " No use yourlosin' temper, Gil Gomez. You ain't goin' to scare me : so you may as well keep cool. By doin' that, and listenin', j-ou'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, /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 preten- tious a gentleman, I can like a pretty wench as well as yerself. I've took a fancy to the one wi' the tortoise- so* 854 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. shell hair, an' an't goin' to gie 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's no rivalry between us. Her I mean to be mine unless some better man hinders me." "Well," interpolates Striker, "as 'twas me first put the questyun, I s'pose I'll be allowed to gie an opeenyun?" " No one saying nay, the ex-convict pro- ceeds, " As to any one hevin* a speecial claim to them weemen, nobody has, an' nobody shed have. 'Bout that, Slew's right, an* so's Bill. An,' since the thing's disputed, it oughter be settled in a fair an' square" "Yon needn't waste your breath," interrupts Go- mez, in a tone of determination. " I admit no dis- pnte 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 sweet- heart was before I ever saw any of you. Sefior 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 yersclf, I'll live long enough to see you under ground, or, what's more like, hangin' wi' your throat in a halter. Don't make any mistake about me. I can shoot straight as you." "Avast, theer! " shouts Striker to De Lara, seeing tho latter about to draw a pistol. " Keep yer hand off o' that vepon ! If theer must be a fight, let it be a A STORY OP THE SOUTH SEA. 355 fair one. But, before it begin, Jack Striker has a Avord 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 eying them. " What's the use o' spillin' blood about it, maybe killin' one the other? All for the sake o' a pair o' stoopid girls, or a kupple 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 pro- posin' ; which I darsay'll be satisfactory to all." " What is it, Jack? " asks one of the outsiders. " First, then, I'm agoin' to make the observashun, that fightin' an't the way to get them weemen, who- ever'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 Repaid for." "How that?" " How? What humbuggin' stuff askin' such a ques- tyin! Han't we all equil shares in 'em? Coorse we have ! Tharfor, them as wants 'em must pay for 'em ; an' they as wants 'em so bad as to do shootin' for 'em surely won't objeck 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 girls. 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 ivho eeventyally gits a gal shed pay a considerashin' 356 THE FLAG OF DISTKESS. o' gold-dust all roun' to the rest o' us ; at the 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 Dutchman also indorsing the proposal. " I agree to it," sa} r s 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 pit}*, after our livin' so long in harmony thegither, we can't part same way. Weemen's allers been a bother ever since I've knowd 'em. An' I s'pose it'll continue so to the eend o' the chapter, an' the eend o' some lives heer. I re- peet, 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 of a way." "What way?" " Leave it to the ladies theirselves. Gie them the chance o' who they'd like for a protector ; same time lettin' 'em know they've got to choose 'tween one or tother. Let 'em take theer pick, everybody unner- standin' afterwards theer' s to be no quarrelin' or fightin'. That's our law in the Australyin bush, when we've cases o' this kind ; an' every bushranger hes 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." A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 357 "I consent to it," sa}-s Blew, with apparent reluc- tance, as if doubtful of the result, yet satisfied to sub- mit to the will of the majority. " I mayen't be neyther so young nor so good lookin' as Mr. Gomez," he adds : " I know I an't eyther. Still I'll take mychance. If she I lay claim to pronounces against me, I promise to stand aside, and say neer 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 moun- tain. "Caro/o/" 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 3'our ways in the Australian bush. They won't hold good here, or with me. My style of settling dis- putes is this, or this." He touches his pistol-butt, and then the hilt of a macJiete, 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 either, and don't care a toss which, pistols at six paces, or my cutlass against that straight blade of yours. Both, if you like." " Both be it. That's best, and will make the end 858 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. sure. Get ready, and quick ; for, as sure as I stand here, I intend fighting you. I " " Say you. intend try in'. I'm ready to give you the chance. You can begin soon's you feel disposed." Hernandez hangs back, as though he would rather decline the combat. "No, Bill!" says Striker; "one fight at a time. "When Blew an' Gomez hev got through wi ? theirs, then you can gie Hernandez his chance if so be he care to hev it." Hernandez appears gratified with Striker's speech, disregarding the innuendo. He had no thought it would come to this, and 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, indorsing 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 63 r es and determined attitudes, makes this sure. On that lonely shore one of the two will sleep his last sleep : it may be both. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 359 CHAPTER XLVH. A DUEL ADJOURNED. E combat now declared inevitable, its prelimi- JL uaries are speedily arranged. Under the circum- stances, and between such adversaries, the punctilios of ceremony to be satisfied are slight ; for theirs is the rough code of honor common to robbers of all coun- tries 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, navjr 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 falls 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 finale. 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, cres- 800 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. cents, and sweethearts, a perfect medley of fore- castle souvenirs. They show also muscles lying along his arms like cording upon a ship's stay. Should the shots fail, those arms promise well for wielding the cutlass ; and, if his fingers 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 garments, 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. Fit- ting like a glove, it displays arms of muscular strength, with a body in symmetrical correspondence. A duel between two such gladiators might be pain- ful, but, for all, a fearfully interesting spectacle. Those about to witness it seem to think so, as they stand silent, with breath bated, and glances bent 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 ! " No 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 atten- tion of all, soon as understood, enchaining it. It is La Crosse who sends it, shouting in accents of A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 361 alarm, "Monsieur Blew! Comrades! We're on an island!" When the forest is on fire, or the savanna swept by flood, and their wild denizens flee to a spot uninvaded, the timid deer is safe beside the fierce wolf or treacher- ous 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 parallel being furnished by the pirate crew of the " Condor," and their captives. The former, on hearing the cry of La Crosse, are at first only startled. Soon their surprise changes to ap- prehension, 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, 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 assertion. 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. The island on which they have beached their boat is a mere strip of sea-washed rock, running parallel to the coast, cliff- bound, table-topped, sterile, treeless, and to all appear- ance waterless. As this last thought comes uppermost, along with the recollection that their boat is lost, 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. 81 362 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. No wood, save some stunted bushes ; no water, stream, pond, or spring, only that of the salt sea rip- pling around ; no sign of animal iife, 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 " castawa}-s." Some have had experi- ence of it in their time, 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 (for such it seems) , were three thousand ; for that matter, in the middle of the Pacific itself. What would they not now give to be again on board theTjark sent sailing thither to miserably sink ! 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 angdr and jealous rivalry maj' still remain ; but neither shows it now, both subdued in contemplation of the common peril ; Blew apparently less affected than his antagonist. But all are fright- ened, awed by a combination of occurrences that look as though an avenging angel had been sent to punish them for their crimes. From that moment Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez are safe in their midst as if promenading the streets of Cadi* , or flirting their fans at the successful matador, safe as far as being molested by the ruffians around them, 3"et, alas ! exposed to the danger overhanging all, death from starvation. But surely some means will be discovered to escape A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 363 from the islind? or, remaining upon it, a way to sus- tain life ? Questions asked, and hopes indulged in, that, as the days pass, prove delusive. Not a stick of tim- ber out of which to construct a raft ; nothing for food, save reptiles on the land, and shell-fish in the sea, these scarce, and difficult of collection. Now and then a bird, its flesh ill favored and rank. But the want above all water. For days, not a drop is obtained, till their throats feel as if on fire. Plenty of it around, too much. But it is as with Tantalus. The briny deep they may touch, but not taste. It makes them mad to gaze on it : to drink of it would but madden them the more. A fearful fate now threatens the crew of the " Con- dor," 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 surety he will not permit the innocent to suffer with the guilty. Let us hope, pray, he will not. CHAPTER XLVIII. LONG SUFFERING. SEVERAL days have elapsed since the desertion of her crew; and the " Condor" is still afloat, sail- ing in a south-westerly direction, with full canvas set, just as when the pirates put away from her. Why she has not gone to the bottom is known but 1o two men, they .ntrusted with the scuttling. And just as when 364 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS* left are the three unfortunate beings aboard, the black cook on his gal^-bench, the captain and his passenger vi-s-a-vis, bound at the cabin-table, upright in their chairs. But, though their attitudes are unchanged, there is a marked change in their appearance, especial- ly those who occupy the cabin ; for the white man shows the effect of physical suffering sooner than the Ethiopian. For long da}'s they 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, cheek-bones protrud- ing, eyes sunken in their sockets. Were the cords that confine them suddenly taken off, they would sink helpless to the floor. Not all this time have the}' been silent. At intervals they have conversed upon their desperate situation, for the first day with some lingering hope of being released, but afterwards despairingly, as the hours pass, and nothing occurs to alter it. Now and then they have heard cries on deck, knowing they are from the cook, whom they now feel sure is, like themselves, fast bound in the forward part of the vessel. At first the}' answered them, till finding it an idle effort ; and now their feeble strength forbids even the exertion of their voices. Long since have the two men given up making attempts to untie themselves : now they have also ceased to converse, or only at periods long apart. Lan- tanas, 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 A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 365 He keeps his eyes bent on it habitually, though not with much hope of there seeing aught tc 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 comes within his field of vision, which causes him to start, writhe in his ropes, and cry out to the utmost of his strength ; for it is a ship in full sail, crossing the " Con- dor's" track, and scarce a cable's length astern. He hears a hail, and calls out in response, Lantanas join- ing him. And the two keep shouting for hours after, till their feeble voices fail them ; and they again resign themselves to a despondency hopeless as ever. All their shouts have brought them are the Bornean apes, that are heard scampering up and down the cabin-stair, dashing their uncouth bodies against the closed door. The Chilian has long ago surrendered to despair ; while Don Grcgorio, who has also lost hope of help from man, still has faith in Heaven. With unabated fervor, he entreats for mercy from above ; and, as he does so, the Chilian captain gives way to a paroxj-sm of frenzy, raving as he bewails his unhappy fate. For long he continues to rave. Don Gregorio makes no effort to hold converse with him. The sight is suffi- ciently painful, suggestive of what may be his own fate, 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, 31* B66 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. which spreads over his whole countenance, while hig eyes kindle into cheerfulness, and his lips seem parted in a smile. Is he about to echo the mad laugh of Lan- tanas? No ! In that look there is no sign of unseated rea son. On the contrary, he gazes with intelligent earnestness, as at something outside demanding inves- tigation. Soon his lips part farther, not 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 distinguisha- ble from waif of floating foam, or wing of gull. Be- yond 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, assuming shape ; for the tall, narrow disk, rising tower-like against the sky, can only be the spread canvas of a ship. And, gradually growing taller, he at length can tell she is standing towards the bark. Intently he continues to watch the distant sail ; si- lently, without saying aught of it to his companion, or in any way communicating with him. It would be use- less now : the mind of the Chilian is closed against outward things ; and it is not the time to open it. Hopefully Don Gregorio keeps gazing, yet not with- out anxiety. Once before has he 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 the canvas increasing in bulk, growing broader, and loom- ing higher. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 367 A long time, however, elapses, nearly half a day, during which he has many hopes and fears, alternat- ing as the hours pass. But the former are at length in the ascendant ; and all anxiety passes as the pursu- ing 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 ! The}' seem the wings of merciful angels, coming to reliere him from his misery. And that flag floating above, the flag of England ! "Were it the banner of his own Spair, he could not regard it with greater gladness or gratitude ; for surely he will be saved now. Alas ! while thus congratulating himself, he sees that which causes his heart again to sink within him, bringing back keenest apprehensions. The strange vessel is still a far way behind ; and the breeze impell- ing 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 be- calmed. 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. The glass rack and lamps overhead hang steady, without the slightest oscillation. But the bark 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 sails, no flouting flag to keep up his heart, which for a while is down, almost despondent. But only for a short time, again rising as the bark, sheering round, brings once more stern towards the s.hip, and he sees the latter, and something besides, a boat ! It is down in the water, and coming on toward the "Condor," the 368 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. oar-blades flashing in the sun, and flinging spray-drops that seem like silver stars. The bark eddying on, he has the boat in view but a short while. What matters it now? He is no more apprehensive, but 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, " Bark ahoy!" Ill feeble accents he makes answer, continuing to call out till other voices, echoing along the " Condor's" decks, become commingled with his own. Then there are footsteps on the quarter-deck, and they are. soon after heard descending the cabin-stair. The handle is turned, the door pushed open ; and a swish of fresh air sweeps in, human 'beings along with it, as they enter, giving utterance to exclamations of astonish- ment. 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 gives him many emo- tions, too many for his strength, so long and sorely tried. Overpowered by it, he becomes unconscious, as though the sight, instead of gladdening, had suddenly deprived him of life. No need to say that the officers who have entered the "Condor's" cabin are Crozier and Cadwallader ; for she is the polacca bark we have seen ceased by & frigate, that frigate the "Crusader." 369 CHAPTER XLIX. A CARD UNEXPECTEDLY BECOVEBED. IT is the fourth day since the English officers lieutenant, midshipman, and cockswain boarded the Chilian bark. They are still on board of her, and she yet afloat, the one a sequence of the other. Otherwise, she would now be at the bottom of the sea. For the squall that struck her would have thrown her on her beam-ends, but that her sheets and halyards were cast loose at an opportune moment, so saving her from certain destruction. Her sails have suffered, neverthe- less ; scarce one that was not torn to shreds, excepting a storm-stay and trysail, which they were enabled to set during the gale. And now that it is over, they have managed to bend on a new foresail and jib, found among the bark's spare canvas. With these she is making way at the rate of some six knots an hour, her head set east by south. A grim, terrible fight that squall gave them ; only the three men to manage so large a craft in a tempest, which, though short lived, was as fierce as ever swept over the Pacific. They had no aid from any of the other three ; nor from two of them have they any yet. Capt. Lantanas is still deliri- ous, locked up in his state-room, lest, in his madness, he may do some violent act ; while Don Gregorio, weak as a child, reclines on the cabin settee, unable to ascend to the deck. The negro alone, having partially recovered strength, lends some assistance at the sails. 370 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. It is twelve o'clock meridian ; and Grummet, the cockswain, is at the wheel ; the officers on the quarter, Crozier, sextant in hand, " shooting the sun." They have long ago given up hope of finding the frigate, or being found by her. The signal gun, heard by them repeatedly throughout that wild night, they could not answer, neither, in the fog, know its direction. At the time, it sounded like their 1 death-knell ; and now any chance of their coming across the " Crusader" is as one in a thousand. Aware of this, they are steering the crippled vessel towards Panama, in hope of there finding the frigate. 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 quarter-deck of the Chili- an vessel, taking the altitude of the sun, with instru- ments her own skipper is no longer able to use. For- tunately, these things 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 heard the whole story in all its dark details, so far as Don Gregorio could give them. Having already determined their longitude by the bark'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 Grum- met. " 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 four days. We might do it in two, if we could but set sail enough. Anyhow, I think oli Bracebridge will wait for us at A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 371 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 to speak of it : I daren't trust my- self to think of it. Carmen Montijo, my betrothed, captive to a crew of pirates ! ' ' Cadwallader is silent. He suffers the same agony, thinking of Inez. For a time the picture remains before their minds, dark as their gloomiest fears and fancies can paint it. Then across it shoot.s a ray of hope, sinister, but sweet ; for it is a thought 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," cries Crozier. " That we surely shall ! If it cost all my money, all the work of my life, I'll revenge the wrongs of Carmen Montijo." " And I those of Inez Alvarez." For a Avhile they stand silently brooding upon that which has brought such black shadow over their hearts ; then Cadwallader says, "They 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 ruffian he knew there Rocas the name, he says." "It seems probable, indeed certain," rejoins Cro- zier; "though it don't much matter how or when they planned the wicked deed. Enough that they've 372 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. done it. But to think of Harry Blew turning traitor, and taking part with them ! That is to me the stran- gest thing of all, and painful as strange." " But do you believe he has done so?" " How can I 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 ingrati- tude ! Cadwallader, I'd as soon have thought of sus- pecting yourself ! ' ' " His conduct, certainty, seems incredible. I be- lieved 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 into my embrace again, and he'll have a hug that'll squeeze the last breath out of his bod} 7 ." "The chance may come 3 - et, 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!" assents the lieutenant; and the two start for the fore-deck in silence, with anxiety upon their faces ; for there is a thought in theii hearts which neither has yet made known to the other, blacker and more bitter than the knowledge of Harry Blew's treason. Unspoken, they carry it into A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 378 the forecastle ; but they are not many minutes there, before seeing what brings it out, without either having spoken a word, A bunk, the most conspicuous of the two tiers, is explored first. 'Among its scattered contents are' papers of various sorts, some letters, several numbers of an old newspaper, and a pack of Spanish cards. Beside these is one of a different kind, a little bit of white card, 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." He does not need to be told how his card came there. Intuitively he understands, remembering when, where, and to whom, he gave it, to De Lara on the day of their encounter in front of Don Gregorio's house. Thrusting it into his pocket, he clutches at the letters, and looks at their superscription, " Don Francisco de Lara." Opening them, he rapidly reads one after the other. His hands holding them shake as with a palsy, while in his eyes there is an expression of a painful nature ; for he fears, that, subscribed to some, he will find a name dear to him, that of Carmen Montijo. If so, farewell to all faith in human kind. Harry Blew's ingratitude has destined his belief in man. A latter from the daughter of Don Gregorio Montijo to the gambler Frank Lara will alike wither his confi- dence in woman. With eager eyes, and lips compressed, he continues the perusal of the letters. They are from many corre- spondents, and relate to various matters, most about money and monte, signed "Faustino Calderon." As the last passes through his fingers, he breathes freely, though with a shrug of self-reproach for having 32 374 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. doubted the woman who was to have been bis wife. Turning to Cadwallader, as himself, aware of all, he sa}'s in solemn emphasis, " Now we know ! " ' CHAPTER L. THE LAST LEAF IX THE LOG. NO common pirates, then, no mere crew of muti- nous sailors, have carried off Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez. It has been done by De Lara and Calderon ; for, although there is no evidence of the latter having been aboard the bark, it is deducible, and not even doubtful. With a design such as that before them, the confederates were not likely to have parted. Several hours have elapsed since the discovery ; and the 3*oung officers, again upon the quarter-deck, stand gazing in one another's faces, on both an expression of anguish, which the new knowledge has intensified. It was painful to think of their sweethearts being the sport of rough robbers ; but to picture them in the power of Francisco de Lara and Faustino 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, as fiendish. I see it now." "Do j'ou know, Ned, I half suspected it from the first. You remember what I said as we were leaving A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 375 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'd lay down his life for theirs?" * " Certainly I do. If ever I find him, I shall make him suffer for that broken promise." " What do j'ou propose doing after we reach Pana- ma? If we find the frigate there, we'll be obliged to join her." " Obliged ! There's no obligation to bind a man reck- less as I as this misery makes me. Unless Capt. Bracebridge consent to assist us in the search, I'll go alone." " Not alone. There's one will be with 3 T ou." "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 take to an open boat." ; 'In sight of, close to it. I've been questioning Don Gregorio. He knows that much, and but little besides. The poor gentleman is almost as crazed as the skipper. A wonder he's not more. He says they had sighted land that very morning the first since leaving California. The captain told them they would be in Panama about two days after. As the boat was being rowed away, Don Gregorio saw it through the eabin-windows. They appeared to make for some 376 THE FLAG OF D1STEESP. land not far off, lighted up by a clear moonlight. That's all I can get out of him." " The old negro can he tell no better story? " "I've questioned him too. He's equally sure of their having been close in to the coast. 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 kept them, he could have told us where he was at the time the bark was abandoned. His getting luny is 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 did, and have been searching for it all along. But it's gone ; and, what's become of it, I know not. They ma}- have thrown it overboard before leaving ; though what good that would do them, I can't see. The cook says it used to lie on a little shelf at the turning of the cabin-stair. I've looked there and ever}- where else, 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 Cad wallader, interrupting the despair- ing speech. " Those brutes ! What's that they're knocking about? By Jove! I believe it's the very thing we're speaking of." A STORF OF THE SOUTH SEA. f>77 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," responds Crozier, as both officers 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 these consent to relinquish it. It is at length recovered, though in a ruinous condi- tion, fortunately, however, with the written leave? untorn. Upon the last of these is an entry, evidently the latest made, " Lat. 7 20' N. ; Long. 82 12' W Light breeze." "Good!" exclaims Crozier, rushing back to the quarter-deck, and bending over the chart. " Wit> this, and the double-headed hill, we may get upon the track of the despoilers. Just when we were despair- ing ! Will, old boy, there's something in this. ) have a presentiment that things are taking a turn, and the Fates will yet be for us." " God grant they may ! " "Ah!" sighs Crozier, "if we had but ten me* aboard this bark, or even six, I'd never think of going on to Panama, but steer straight for the Island of Coiba. As the chart shows, that's the land they must have seen, or else Hicaron, which lies on its sou' -west side. With a light breeze, they couldn't have made much way after the date of that entry. Oh for ten good hands ! A thousand pounds apiece for ten tiusty lads ! I only wish in that squall ll-o cutter's crew had been left along with us." 878 THE FLAG OF DISTEESS. "Never fear, Ned; we'll get them again, or as good. Old Bracebridge won't fail us, I'm sure. He's a dear good soul ; and, when he hears the tale wo've to tell, it'll be all right. If he can't himself come along with the frigate, he'll allow us men to man this bark, 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, 3'ou'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 3'ou're worthy of the friendship, the trust, I've placed in }-ou. 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 con- tinues in more cheerful tones. "If it keep in the same quarter for another twenty-four hours, we ought to sight land ; and, if this Chilian chart may be de- pended on, that should be the promontory on the west side of Panama Bay. I hope the chart is a true one ; for Punta Malo, as its name imports, isn't a nice place to make mistakes about. If we should run too close to it, with this west wind " " Steamer to norrard! " cries a rough vobe, inter- rupting him. It is Grummet's. The 3'oung officers, turning with a start, see the Bame. Crozier, laying hold of a telescope, raises it to A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 379 his eye, while he holds it there, saying, " You're right, cockswain : it is a steamer, and standing this way. She'll run across our bows. Up helm, and set the bark's head on her. I want to hail that vessel." Grummet 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 assist- ing, loose tacks and sheets, trimming her sails for the changed course. Soon the two vessels, steered from almost opposite directions, lessen the distance between ; and, as they mutually make approach, each speculates on the char- acter of the other. They on board the bark have little difficulty in determining that of the steamer. At a glance, they see she is not a war-ship, but a passenger- packet ; and, as there are no others in that part of the Pacific, she can be ontyone of the " liners " lately established between San Francisco and Panama, com- ing down from the former port, her destination the latter. Not so easy for those aboard the steamship to make out the character of the craft that has turned up in their track, and is sailing straight towards them. They see a bark, polacca-masted, with some sails set, and others hanging in shreds from her j-ards. 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. It matters not what its nationality. Enough that they know it to be a signal of distress. Responding to the appeal, the commander of the steam-packet orders her engines to slow, and then to cease action, till the huge leviathan, late running at the rate of twelve knots an hour, gradually lessens Bj-eed, and at length lies motionless upon the water 380 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. Simultaneously the bark is "hove to:" her sails cease propelling her, and she lies at less than a cable's length from the steamer. From the latter the hail is heard first, ' ' Bark ahoy ! What bark 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 showing upon her decks. They are of all qualities and kinds, all colors and nationalities ; most of them Californian gold-diggers returning to their homes, some successful and cheer- ful, others downcast and disappointed. He is not long in telling his tale, first to the com- mander of the steamer and his officers, then to the passengers ; for to these he makes appeal, a call for volunteers, not alone to assist in navigating the bark, but to proceed with him in pursuit of the crew that cast her awaj*. He makes known his position, with his power to compensate them for the service sought, both indorsed by the commander of the steamship, who, in his anxi- A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 381 ety to assist, is ready to answer for his credentials, They are not needed, nor yet the promise of a money reward. Among those 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 listen- ing further, twenty of them spring forward in response to his appeal ; not for the reward he offers, but in the cause of humanity and justice. He could 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 bark, now better manned, and with more sail set, is steered for the point where the line of lat. 7 20' N. intersects that of Ions. 82 12' W. CHAPTER LI. STARVATION POINT. WHILE these scenes are passing at sea, others of equally exciting character occur upon that desert shore, where, by a sinister chance for them- selves, if not for their captives, the pirate crew of the "Condor" made landing. They are still upon the isle, all their efforts to get off having proved idle. But how different are they from that hour when they brought their boat upon its beach, laden with the spoils 382 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. of the plundered vessel ! Changed not only in their feelings, but looks, scarce recognizable as the same men Then in the full plenitude of swaggering strength, mental as bodity, with tongues given to loud talk ; now subdued and silent, stalking about like spectres, with weak, tottering steps ; some sitting listlessly upon stones, or tying astretch along the earth ; not resting, but from sheer inability to stand erect. Famine has made its mark 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 short 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 earnest- ness such as their desperate circumstances evoked. A tarpauling they have rigged up by oar and boat-hook, set upon the most elevated point of the isle, has failed to attract the eye of any one on the mainland, or, if seen, the signal has been disregarded ; while to sea- ward, 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. If the}' could, willingly would they undo their wicked deed, jo3"fully surrender the stolen gold, gladly give up their captives, be but too glad to restore to life those they have deprived of Vt. It cannot be. Their victims left aboard the bark must have long ago gone to the bottom of the sea. In its bed they are now sleeping their last sleep, released A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 383 from all earthly woes ; and they who have so ruthlessly consigned them to their eternal rest now almost envy it. In their hour of agon}-, as hunger gnaws at their entrails, and thirst scorches them like a consuming fire, they care little for life ; some even desiring death. All are humbled now. Even the haught}- 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 11 le 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 da}-s. 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 contrar}-, 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 minis- tering 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 rain- fall, 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, they are relinquishing themselves to bitter despair and have called to the Dutchman, who has been posted on t.he heights above, THE FLAG OF DISTEESS. on the outlook for a passing sail, to come down. A last solemn council of ways and means is to be held, and all hands must assist. But he neither obeys, nor gives back response. He does not even look in their direction. The}* can see him by the signal-staff, standing erect, with face turned towards the sea, and one hand over his e} T es, 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 gleaming 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, " Sail in sight !" CHAPTER LII. AN AVENGING NEMESIS. SAIL in sight! Three little words, but full of big meaning, oft carrying the question of life or death. To the ears of the starving crew, sweet as music, despite the harsh Teutonic pronunciation of him who gave them utterance. At the shout from above, all have faced towards the sea, and stand scanning its surface, but with gaze A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 385 unrewarded. The white flecks seen afar are only the wings of gulls. "Where away?" shouts one, interrogating him on die hill. " Sou'-westert." South-westward they cannot see. In this direction their view is bounded ; a projection of the cliff inter- posing 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 behavior might cause them surprise, if they could not account for it. The signal- staff is upon the higher of the two peaks, some two nundred yards beyond. He is beside it, and apparent- ly 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 ship c^ose at hand, repeating the hail, " Aho}-, ahoy!" Looking, they can see no ship, nor craft of any kind. For a moment they think him mad, and fear, after all, it ma} r 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 long leagues off, little more than a speck, their practised eyes tell them she is steering that way, run- ning coastwise. Keeping her course, she must come past the isle, within sight of their signal, so long spread to no purpose. Without staying to reflect 386 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. further, 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 e}-e, he bends 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 bark," 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 o' cloud." Gomez, standing bj r , appears eager to get hold of the glass ; but Blew seems reluctant to give it up. Still holding it at his eye, he says, " See to that sig- nal, mates ! Spread the tarpaulin' to its full stretch. Face it square } so's to give 'em every chance o' sight- in' it." Striker and Davis spring to the piece of tarred can- vas, 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 surren- dt : cd to him. Blew, stepping aside, seems excited with some emotion he tries to conceal. Strong it must be, judg- ing 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 anx- iety. Soon as giving up the glass, he pulls off hia pilot-coat ; then divesting himself of his shirt, a scarlet flannel, he suspends it from the outer end of the cross- A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 387 piece -which supports the tarpauling, as he does so, say- ing 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 going below to say a word to them poor creeturs. Stand by the staff, and don't let any o' them haul down the signal." "Ay, ay!" answers Striker, without comprehend- ing, 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 drawing the dreadnought over his shirtless skin. " Both o' you be true to me, and, 'fore long, I may be able to show I an't ungrateful." Saying this, he separates from the Sydney Ducks, and hurries down towards the gorge. Both, as they stand by the signal-staff, now 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 at- tracted by a cry strangely intoned. It is from Gomez, who has brought down the telescope, and holds it in hands that shake as with palsy. "What is it?" asks Padilla, stepping up to him. " Take the glass, Rafael Rocas. See for yourself! " The old contrabandista does as directed. He ia 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 a surprise, though the latter least. ' ' Bark she is polacca-masts. Queer ! About the same bulk tool If it wasn't that we're sure of the 388 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. * Condor' being below, I'd be willing to swear it was she. Of course, it can be only a coincidence. A strange one, though." 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, takes the telescope from his fingers ; then bringing it to his eye, sights for himself. Less than twenty seconds suffice for him to deter- mine 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 recognizes 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 firm voice, the '"Condor!"' " ' Condor ! ' Impossible ! " cry the four Spaniards, speaking together. " It is, for all that ! " rejoins Striker. " How so I don't understan' any more than yourselves. But that vender craft be the Chili bark or her spectre I'll 1 *ke my solemn affydavy ." Striker's speech calls up strange thoughts, that take possession of the minds of those listening to it. How could it be the " Condor," long since scuttled, sent to the bottom of the sea ? Impossible ! The sail seen must be a spectre. In their weak state, with nerves unnaturally excited, they almost believe this, one and all impressed with A. STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 389 wild, weird fancies, that strike terror to their guilty souls. Something more than mortal is pursuing to punish them. It is the hand of vengeance. For days they have been thinking so ; and now they see it stretch- ing farther, and coming nearer. Clearly a Fate, an avenging Nemesis ! " It's the bark, be3 r ond a doubt," continues Striker, with the glass again at his eye. " Every thin' the same, 'ceptin' her sails, the which show patched like. That be nothin'. It's the Chili craft, and no other. Her sure's we stan' heer ! " " Stay! " exclaims Gomez. " Where are they who took charge of the scuttling? Can they have blun- dered in their work? " 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, not heeding, continues on, and is soon out of sight. It matters not 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 bark, polacca-masted, in size, shape of hull, sit in the water, every thing, the same as with the " Condor ; " and the bit of bunting, red, white, blue, the Chilian ensign, the flag carried by the bark they abandoned. They remember a blurred point in the central star : 'tis there ! Spectre or not, 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 S3* 300 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. before long set at rest ; for, while they are watcning her, she draws opposite the opening in tl e reef, then lets sheets loose, and, squaring her after-yards, ia instantl}' hove to. Down drops a boat from the davits : as it strikes the water, men seem swarming over the side into it. The n the plash of oars, their wet blades glinting in the sun, as the boat is rowed through the reef-passage. Im- pelled 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, wearing tall boots, with trousers tucked in at their tops, the costume of the California gold-digger. Two are different from the rest, in the uniform of naval officers, with caps gold-banded. These, though the youngest, seem to command, being the first to leap out of the boat, soon as on shore, drawing their swords, 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 altogether motionless; for they are shaking with fear. Their thoughts, hitherto given to th) super- natural, are not less so now, even mori, ,hose of Gomez and Hernandez. Incomprehensible to them, the " Condor " being afloat ; but to behold among the men who have just come out of her two the}- well know ! For, in the officers leading, De Lara and Calderon recognize their detested rivals in love, the same who made smash of their monte bank. For some moments, De Lara stanc's in sullen silence, A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 391 with eyes dilated. He has watched the beaching of the boat, and the landing of her crew. Recognizing the officers, he clutches Calderon by the arm. Now, more vividly than ever, is their crime recalled ; for now its punishment is near : there is no chance to escape it. To resist will onh* be to hasten their doom, sure to be death. They do not think of resistance, nor yet flight, but remain upon the hilltop, cowering and speechless. Calderon is the first to break silence, fran- tically exclaiming, ' ' The officers of the English frigate ! Mystery of mysteries ! "What can it mean? " Xo 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 bark, 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 Diaz. " But those rough fellows with them don't appear to be men-of-war's-men, nor sailors of any kind, more like gold-diggers, the same 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 cliffs edge, to have a look below, leaving the other two by the staff. " What do you suppose they'll do to us? " asks Cal- deron of De Lara. " Do j'ou think they'll " " Shoot or hang us? " interrupts De Lara : " that's what you'd say. I don't think any thing about it. One or other they'll do, to a certainty." ' Is there no chance of escaping? " piteously exclaims the ex-ganadero. 392 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. "None whatever. No use cur trying to get awuy from them. There's nowhere we could conceal our- selves, not a spot to give us shelter for a single hour. For my part, I don't intend to stir from here. Yes, 1 shall go down to them, and meet death like a man no, like a tiger. Before dying, I shall defend myself. Are you good to do the same ? Are you game for it ? " " I don't comprehend you," answers Calderon. " Who would you fight against? " " Whomsoever I can. Two for certain." "Which two?" " Crozier and Carmen. You may do as you please. I've marked out my pair, and mean to have their lives before 3'ielding up my own, hers, if I can't his. She sha'n't live to triumph over me." While speaking, the desperado has taken 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. Sure 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. Cal- deron, quailing at the thought of it, endeavors to dis- suade 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 stifle in a prison, 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 ' ' A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 393 " It's no use, Rafael," argues De Lara, misunder standing the speech of the seal-hunter. " If we attempt flight, they'll only shoot us down the sooner. Where could we flee to?" " Come on : I'll show you where. Courage ! Don't stand hesitating : every second counts now. If we can but get there in time " "Get where?" " To the boat." 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, they 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. 894 THE FLAG OP DISTEI3S8. CHAPTER LIII. THE TABLES NEARLY TURNED. AT the cliff's base, the action, simultaneous, is yet 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 cau- tion, till, passing the rock-portal, they see the platform, and those on it. Then the }*oung 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 separated ; beside them, half a dozen figures, more like spectres 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, they hasten on, the girls rushing out to receive them. Soon they are together, two and two, breasts touching, and arms infolded in mutual embrace. For a while, no words, the hearts of all four too full for speech, only ejacu- lations and kisses, with tears, not of sorrow. Soon follow speeches, necessarily brief and half-incoherent ; Crozier telling Carmen that her father is still alive, and aboard the bark. He lives, he is safe : that is enough. Then, in answer to his questions, a word or two on her side ; 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 saluted him. He stands passive, a silent spectator, as Crozier supposes, the greatest criminal on earth. A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 895 In quick retrospect of what has occurred, and what ne has heard from Don Gregorio, how could it be otherwise ? But he will not condemn without hearing: ; D ' and, stepping up to the ex-man-o-war's-man, he demands explanation of his conduct, sternly sajdng, "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 draws 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 instead of drawing, or making any show of de- fence, 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 grate- fulness 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! "What would you do?- You know not. This brave man to him I owe my life, I and Inez." 396 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. "Yes," adds Inez, advancing, "more than life 'Tis he who protected us." Crozicr stands trembling, the sword almost shaken from his grasp. While sheathing it, he is told how near he has been to doing that which would ever aftor have made him miserable. He feels like one withhe^J from a crime, almost parricide ; for to have killed Hany Blew would have been like killing his own lather. The exciting episode is almost instantly succeeded by another, still more stirring, and longer sustained. While Carmen is proceeding to explain her interference on behalf of Blew, she is interrupted by cries com- ing 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, recogniz- ing the voice of the man left in charge of the boat. Without hesitating an instant, he springs off toward the strand, Cadwallader and the gold-diggers follow- ing ; two staying to keep guard over those of the robbers who have surrendered. On clearing the rocky portal, they see what is causing the boat-keeper to sing out in such terrified accents, a sight which sends the scare through their own hearts, with cries of alarm from their lips. He in the boat is on 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 cany them. They are coming along the strand from the right side of the cove. At a glance, the young officers see who they are ; at least two of them, De Lara and Calderon, sooner from their not meeting them unexpectedly ; for, aware that these are on the A STOKY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 39? isle, they were about to go in quest of them, when summoned by the cries. No need to search for them now. There' they are, with their confederates, ruslrng direct for the boat, already within pistol-shot of it. There can be no doubt as to their intent ; and the cor- tainty of it sends a cold, shivering fear through the hearts of those who see them, all suddenly recognizing a danger seeming as death itself. They remember having left only two or three men on the bark. Should the pirates succeed in boarding her, they may cany her off to sea, leaving the rescuers on the isle, and then An appalling prospect, they have no time to dwell on, nor need ; for it comes before them like a flash in all its horrid details. Without waiting even 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, seeing this, shouts to the man, ' ' Shove off into deep water ! ' ' The sailor, 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 clown, and lie doubled over the thwarts. A yell of vengeance peals from the pursuing party; and, mad- dened, 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 laying hold of an oar, and shipping it. In agony, Crozier cries out, ' ' Oh, they cannot surely get away those guilty wretches ! " But it would seem so. They have dropped their oar- 34 398 THE FLAG OF DISTKESS. blades in the water, and commenced pulling, while they are be3 r ond pistol-range. H.\ ! something stays them ! An avenging Power staj's them. Their arms rise and fall ; but the boat moves not. Her keel is on a coral bottom ; her bilge caught upon its rough pro- jections. Their own weight, pressing down, holds her fast, and their oar-strokes are idly spent. They had not thought of being thus stayed, which 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, and 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 may 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 boat-keeper was not 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 for long. There is a judge present, accustomed to sit upon short trials, and pass quick sentences, soon fol- lowed by execution. It is the celebrated Justice Lynch. Represented by a stalwart digger, all the others A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 399 acting as jury, the trial is speedily brought to a ter- mination. For the four of Spanish nationality, the verdict is guilty ; the sentence, death on the scaffold. The others, less criminal, to be carried on to Panama, and there delivered over to the Chilian consul ; the 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 condi- tional pardon, on promise of better behavior throughout all future time. This they obtain by the intercession of Harry Blew, in accordance with the hint he gave them while they stood beside the spread tarpauling. Of the four 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 ladies are cloaked, and impatient to be taken back to the bark, yearning to embrace him they so long believed dead. The young officers stand beside them ; all awaiting the last scene of the tragedy, the execu- tion of the condemned criminals. The stage has been set for it, this the level plot of ground in front of the cavern's mouth. A rope hangs down with a running- noose at one end ; the other, in default of gallows' arm and branch of tree, rigged over the point of a project- ing rock. All this arranged, De Lara is led out first, a digger on each side of him. He is not tied, nor con- fined in any way. They have no fear of his making escape. Nor has he any thought of attempting it ; though he thinks of something else as desperate, and more 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 to Calderon on the cliff he is still determined on keeping. As they conduct him out of the cave, his eyes, glaring 400 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. with lurid light, go searching everywhere, till they rest upon a group some twenty paces distant. It is com- posed of four persons, Crozier and Carmen Montijo, Cadwallader and Inez Alvarez, 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 bolstered bn the hip of $ gold-digger guarding him. A spring, and he has possession of it ; a bound, and he is off from between the two men, rushing on towards the group standing apart. Fortunately for Edward Crozier, for Carmen Mon- tijo 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 simul- taneous, but enough apart to decide which of the two who fired must fall. Crozier's pistol has cracked first ; and, as the smoke of both swirls up, the gambler is seen astretch upon the sward, 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, brave heart too ! "What a pity 'twar so black ! " "Come away, rata," says Crozier to Carmen. "Your father will be suffering from anxiet}*. You've had enough of the horrible. Let us hope this will be the end of it." Taking his betrothed by the hand, he leads her down to the boat, Cadwallader with Inez accompany- ing them. All seat themselves in the stern-sheets, and wait for A STORY Ol? THE SOUTH SEA. the diggors, who soon after appear, conducting their prisoners, the pirate crew of the "Condor, short four left behind, a banquet for the vultures and sea- birds. CHAPTER LIV. A SAILOR'S TRUE YARN. IT is the second day after the tragic scene upon the isle ; and the Chilian bark 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 situation of first officer, which, so far from having forfeited, he is 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. Hariy is strong enough, however, to tell the 3'oung 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 the " wicked cape," all evil were left behind, they are in the mood to listen to the strange narration in all its details, and summon the chief officer to their side. "Your honors!" he begins, "it's a twisted-up yarn, from the start to the hour ye hove in sight ; an' 34* 402 THE FLAG OF DISTEESS. 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 d}-in' on that desert island, an' layin' our bones there. Thank the Lord for our delivery without any disparagement to what's been done by both o' you, 3 r oung gentlemen. For that he must ha' sent you, an' has had a guidiu' hand throughout the whole thing, I can't help thinkin' 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, honoring 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 favor. But go on." " Well, to commence at the beginnin', which is when you left me in San Francisco. As I told Master Wil- lie that day he come ashore in the ding}*, I war engaged to go chief mate in the Chili bark. She war then a ship ; afterward converted into a bark, 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. lie war the last o' the *hree swung up ; an', if ever man desarved hangin', ho did, bein' the cruellest scoundrel o' the lot. After we'd waited another day or two, an' no more makin' appear- ance, the skipper made up his mind to sail. Then the old gentleman, along wi' the two saynoreetas, came A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 403 aboard, when we cleared, an' stood out; to sea. Afore leavin' port, I had a suspishun about the sort o' crew we'd shipped. Soon's we war 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 bo bad men, an', if that war possible, worse seamen. I expected trouble wi' them in sailin' the vessel, an' a likelihood o' them boin' disobedient. Bat, 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 arready laid out. A lucky chance led to me discoverin' their infarnal design. The two we've agreed to let go 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 saj-ed made every thin' 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, or drownding of him, as well as the skipper. Your humble sarvint an' the darky war to be disposed o' same sweet fashion. On listenin' to the dyabolikal plot, I war clear dumfound- ered, an' for a while didn't know what to do. 'Twar a case o' life an' death to some o' us, an', for the say- noreetas, somethin' worse. At first, I thort o' tellin' Capt. 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 gie belief to such 'trocious rascality as bein' a thing possi- ble. More like he'd let out right away, an' bring on 104 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. the bloody bizness sooner than they intended it. From what Striker an' Davis said, I made out that it war to be kept back till we should sight land near Panama. After a big spell o' thinkin' , I seed a sort o' way out of it, the only one appeariii' possible. 'Twar this : to purtend joinin' in wi' the conspirators, an' put my- self 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 gie me a chance to go in along wi' them. Takin' advantage o' it, I broached the bizness to Striker that same night, an' got into thar councils, arterwards obtainin' the influence I wanted. Mind ye, gentlemen, it took a smart show o' trickery an' manceuvrin' . Among 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 a-thiukiu' o' 3'ourself, sir, as also o' Master Willie, an' then o' 3'our sweethearts, an' what might happen, if I shed fail in my plan for protectin' 'em. When they wanted to be free an' friendly, an' once began talkin* to me, 1 hed to answer 'em gruff an' growliu' like, knowin' that eyes war on me all the while, an' ears a-listenin'. As to tellin' them what was before, or givin' them the slimmest hint o' it, that would 'a spoilt my plans. 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 then be saved, an' that Don Gregorio him- self 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 have been saved ! ' ' A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. The speaker pauses in the fervor of his gratitude, which his listeners respecting, in silence wait for him to continue. He does so, saying, " At last, on sight- in' land, as agreed on, the day had come for the doin' o' their dark deed. It war after night when they set about it, myself actin' as a sort o' recognized leader. I'd played my part so's to get control o' the rest. We first lowered a boat, puttin' 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 brihgin' on trouble too soon. Me an' Da- vis who chances to be a sort o' ship's 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 ' Condor ' 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 tappin' the bark'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' been murdered, as Padilla had proposed. But I daren't go down 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. I seed 'twould 'a knocked all my plans on the liead, an' tharfor hurried down into the boat. Then we rowed right away, leavin' the bark just as she'd been the whole o' that da} T . As we pulled shoreward, we could see her standin' off, all sails set, same as tho' the crew war aboard o' her, tvorkin' 'em." 406 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. "But her ensign reversed?" usks Cadvvallader " She was canying it so when we came across her, How came that, Harry ? ' ' " Ah ! the bit o' buntin' upside down ! I did thai overnight myself in the dark, thinkin' it might get them a better chance o' bein' picked up." " And you did the very thing!" exclaims Crozier. " I see the hand of Providence 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 on 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. Ift hed been the mainland well, I needn't tell 3-6 things would now be different. Arter landin', we staid 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 separa- tion myself, detarmined they shouldn't come to no harm that night. There war a thing happened which I daresay they've told you ; an' 'twar from them I after- wards larned that Gomez an' Hernandez war no -other than the two chaps you'd trouble wi' at San Francisco. The}* went into the cave, an' said some insultiu' things to the saynoreetas ; but I warn't far off, an' would a made short work wi' them, hed it goed further than talk. Up at a early hour next mornin' , we found the boat hed drifted off seaward, an' got bilged on the breakers. But, supposin' we shouldn't want her anj more, nobody thought any thin' about it. Then corned the dividin' o' the gold-dust, an' after it the great ques- t}'un leastwise, so far as I war consarned as to who should take away the girls. I'd been waitin' foi A STORY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 407 this ; an' now, 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. Pre- tendin' a likin' for Miss Carmen myself, an' puttin' Davis up to what I wanted, we, too, made 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 poor crecturs unprotected. But thar war no hdp for't ; an' I agreed to the duel, which war to be fought, first wi' pistols, a-n' finished up, if need be, wi' the steel. Every thin' 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 drea'ful 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' quarellin'. 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' m}*self, supposed to be at the bottom o' the sea. After that, 'twar all safe, as far as consarned the say- noreetas. To them as would ha' took 'em, they war but a second thought in the face o' starvation, which soon tamed the wolves down, an' kep 'em so till the last o' the chapter. Now, gentlemen, ye know how Harry Blew hav behaved, an' can judge for yourselves whether he's kep the word he gied you 'fore leavin' San Francisco." " Behaved nobly, grandly ! " cries Croxier. " 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. 408 THE FLAG OF DISTRESS. Cad ! Take him to j'ours, and show him how grateful we both are to the man who has done more for us than saving our lives." "Bless 3'ou, Blew! God bless you!" exclaims Cadwallader, promptly responding to the appeal, and holding Harry in a hug that threatens to strangle him. The affecting scene is followed by an interval of pro- found silence, broken by the voice of Grummet, who, at the wheel, is steering straight into the port of Pana- ma, now in sight. "Mr. Crozier! " calls out the old cockswain, "ye see that craft, sir, the one riding at anchor out yon- der in the roadstead? " All turn their eyes in the direction indicated ; soon as they have done so, together exclaiming, the "Crusader! " The last scene of our stor} 7 occurs at Cadiz, in a grand cathedral church. Before its altar stand two English naval officers, alongside each a beautiful Span- ish damsel, soon to be his wedded wife. It scarce needs to tell that the bridegrooms are Edward Crozier and Willie Cadwallader. Nor need it be told who are the brides, since they are to be given away by Don Gregorio Montijo. Nor is it necessary to describe the ceremonial splendor of that double wedding, for long time the great topic 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 com- manders of war-ships in the port, conspicuous amongst these, Capt. Bracebridge, and the officers of H.B.M. 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 A STOKY OF THE SOUTH SEA. 409 both brides and bridegrooms to see them. They belong to a ship lying in the harbor, 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. The good fates have been just and kind to the gentle Chilian skipper, having long since lifted from his mind the cloud that tempora- rily obscured it. He now knows all, above all, Harry Blew in his true colors ; and though on the " Condor's " deck the}' are still captain and mate, when below by themselves in her cabin, all distinction of rank disap- pears, and they are affectionate friends, almost as brothers. In the prosperous trading-craft " Condor," reconverted into her original ship-rig, regularly voy- aging between Valparaiso and Cadiz, exchanging the gold and silver of Chili for the silks and sweet wines of Spain, but few recognize a bark once chased over the South Seas, believed to be a spectre ; and it is to be hoped no one will ever again see her sailing under a FLAG OF DISTRESS. 35 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles Thif/jfioft il&ytkm the last date stamped below. 3 1158 00960 8018 A 000135446 3