The Flag of Distress Part 32

"Glad to see ye again, Master Willie. I'd just sighted the frigate's signal for sailin', an' despaired o' havin' the chance to say a last word to yourself, or Mr Crozier."

"Well, old boy; it's about that I've come ash.o.r.e. Jump out; and walk with me a bit along the wharf."

The sailor drops his oar, and springs out upon the pier, the young officer preceding him.

When sufficiently distant from the boats to be beyond earshot of the oarsmen, Cadwallader resumes speech:

"Harry; here's a letter from Mr Crozier. He wants you to deliver it at the address you'll find written upon it. To save you the necessity of inquiring, I can point out the place it's to go to. Look along sh.o.r.e.

You see a house--yonder on the top of the hill?"

"Sartinly, I see it, Master Willie; and know who lives theer. Two o'

the sweetest creeturs in all Californey. I s'pose the letter be for one o' them?"

"No, it isn't, you dog; for neither of them. Read the superscription.

You see it's addressed to a gentleman?"

"Oh! it's for the guv'nor hisself," rejoins Harry, taking the letter, and running his eye over the direction--Don Gregorio Montijo. "All right, sir. I'll put it in the old gentleman's flippers safe an' sure.

Do you want me to go with it now, sir?"

"Well, as soon as you conveniently can; though there's no need for helter-skelter haste, since there wouldn't be time for an answer, anyhow. In twenty minutes we'll weigh anchor, and be off. I've hurried ash.o.r.e to see you, hoping to find you at the ship-agent's office. How fortunate my stumbling on you here! For now I can better tell you what's wanted. In that letter, there's something that concerns Mr Crozier and myself--matters of importance to us both. When you've given it to Don Gregorio, he'll no doubt ask you some questions about what happened last night. Tell him all you know; except that you needn't say anything of Mr Crozier and myself having taken a little too much champagne--which we did. You understand, old boy?"

"Perfectly, Master Will."

"Good. Now Harry; I haven't another moment to stay. See! The ship's beginning to spread canvas! If I don't get back directly, I may be left here in California, never to rise above the rank of reefer. Oh! by the way, you'll be pleased to know that your friend Mr Crozier is now a lieutenant. His commission arrived by the corvette that came in last night. He told me to tell you, and I'd nearly forgotten it."

"I'm glad to hear it," rejoins the sailor, raising the hat from his head, and giving a subdued cheer; "right gled; an', maybe, he'll be the same, hearin' Harry Blew's been also promoted. I'm now first mate o'

the Chili ship, Master Willie."

"Hurrah! I congratulate you on your good luck. I'm delighted to know that, and so will he be. We may hope some day to see you a full-fledged skipper, commanding your own craft. Now, you dear old salt, don't forget to look well after the girls. Again, good-bye, and G.o.d bless you!"

A squeeze of hands, with lingers entwined, tight as a reef-knot--then relaxed with reluctance--after which they separate. The mid, jumping into the dingy, is rowed back towards the _Crusader_; while Harry re-hires the truckman; but now only to stay by, and take care of his boat, till he can return to it, after executing the errand entrusted to him. Snug as his new berth promises to be, he would rather lose it than fail to deliver that letter.

And in ten minutes after, he has pa.s.sed through the suburbs of the town, and is hastening along the sh.o.r.e-road, towards the house of Don Gregorio Montijo.

CHAPTER FORTY.

DREADING A "DESAFIO."

Once more upon the _azotea_ stand Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez.

It is the morning of the day succeeding that made sacred by their betrothal. Their eyes are upon the huge warship, that holds the men who holds their hearts, with promise of their hands--in short, every hope of their life's happiness.

They could be happy now, but for an apprehension which oppresses them-- causing them keen anxiety. Yesterday, with its scenes of pleasureable excitement, had also its incidents of the opposite kind; the remembrance of which too vividly remains, and is not to be got rid of. The encounter between the gamblers and their lovers cannot end with that episode, to which they were themselves witness. Something more will surely come from it.

And what will this something be? What should it? What could it, but a _desafio_--a duel?

However brave on yester-morn the two senoritas were, or pretended to be, however regardless of consequences, it is different to-day. The circ.u.mstances have changed. Then, their sweethearts were only suitors.

Now, they are affianced, still standing in the relationship of lovers, but with ties more firmly, if not more tenderly, united. For are they not now their own.

Of the two girls, Inez is less anxious than the aunt, having less cause to be. With the observant intelligence of woman, she has long since seen that Calderon is a coward, and for this reason has but little belief he will fight. With instinct equally keen, Carmen knows De Lara well. After his terrible humiliation, he is not the man to shrink away out of sight. Blackleg though he be, he possesses courage--perhaps the only quality he has deserving of admiration. Once, she herself admired the quality, if not the man! That remembrance itself makes her fear what may come.

She talks in serious tone, discussing with her niece the probabilities of what may arise. The delirious joy of yester-eve--of that hour when she sat in her saddle, looking over the ocean, and listening to the sweet words of love--is to-day succeeded by depression, almost despondency.

While conversing, she has her eyes upon the bay, watching the boats that, at intervals, are rowed off from the warship, fearing to recognise in one the form of him so dear. Fearing it; for they know that her lover is not likely to be ash.o.r.e again, and his coming now could only be on that errand she, herself, so much dreads--the duel. Duty should retain him on his, the young officer's, ship, but honour may require him once more to visit the sh.o.r.e--perhaps never to leave it alive!

Thus gloomily reflects Carmen, imparting her fears to the less frightened Inez; though she too is not without apprehension. If they but understood the "Code of Signals," all this misery would be spared them. Since from the frigate's main-royal masthead floats a blue flag, with a white square in its centre, which is a portent she will soon spread her sails, and glide off out of sight--carrying their _amantes_ beyond all danger of duels, or sh.o.r.e-sc.r.a.pes of any kind.

They observe the "Blue-Peter," but without knowing aught of its significance. They do not even try to interpret, or think of it; their thoughts, as their eyes, concentrated upon the boats that pa.s.s between ship and sh.o.r.e.

One at length specially arrests their attention, and keeps it for some time fixed. A small craft that, leaving the ship, is steered direct for the town. It pa.s.ses near enough for them to see there are three men in it; two of them rowing, the other in the stern--this last in the uniform of an officer.

Love's glance is keen, and, aided by an opera-gla.s.s, it enables Inez Alvarez to identify the officer in the stern-sheets as Don Gulielmo.

The other two--the oarsmen--are only sailors in blue serge shirts, with wide collars, falling far back.

For what the young officer is being rowed ash.o.r.e, the ladies cannot guess. If for fighting, they know that another, and older, officer, would be with him. Where is Don Eduardo?

While still conjecturing, the boat glides on towards the town, and is lost to their view behind some sand-hills insh.o.r.e.

Their glance going back to the ship, they perceive a change in her aspect. Her tall tapering masts, with their network of stays and shrouds, are half-hidden behind broad sheets of canvas. The frigate is unfurling sail! They are surprised at this, not expecting it so soon.

With the help of their gla.s.ses, they observe other movements going on aboard the war-vessel: signal-flags running up and down their haulyards, while boats are being hoisted to the davits.

While still watching these manoeuvres, the little craft which carries the midshipman again appears, shooting out from behind the sand-hills, and rowed rapidly back to the ship, the young officer still in it.

On reaching the great leviathan, for a short time it shows like a tiny spot along her water-line; but, soon after, it too is lifted aloft, and over the bulwark rail.

Ignorant as the young ladies may be of nautical matters, they can have no doubt as to what all this manoeuvring means. The ship is about to sail!

As this is an event which interests all the family, Don Gregorio, summoned to the house-top, soon stands beside them.

"She's going off, sure enough," he says, after sighting through one of the gla.s.ses. "It's rather strange--so abruptly!" he adds. "Our young friends said nothing about it last night."

"I think they could not have known of it themselves," says Carmen.

"I'm sure they couldn't," adds Inez.

"What makes you sure, _nina_?" asked Don Gregorio.

"Well--because,"--stammers out the Andalusian, a flush starting into her cheeks--"because they'd have told us. They said they didn't expect to sail for a day or two, anyhow."

"Just so; but you see they're setting sail now--evidently intending to take departure. However, I fancy I can explain it. You remember they spoke of another warship they expected to arrive. Yonder it is! It came into port last night, and, in all likelihood, has brought orders for the _Crusader_ to sail at once. I only wish it was the _Condor_! I sha'n't sleep soundly till we're safe away from--"

"See!" interrupts Carmen; "is not that a sailor coming this way?"

She points to a man, moving along the sh.o.r.e-road in the direction of the house.

"I think so," responds Don Gregorio, after a glance through the gla.s.s.

"He appears to be in seaman's dress."