The Flag of Distress Part 34

"Ay, true, Will; everything vile and vulgar. Don't it make you mad to think of it?"

"No, not mad. That isn't the feeling I have; rather fear."

"Fear! Of what!"

"That the scoundrels may do some harm to our dear girls. As we know now, they're up to anything. Since they don't stick at a.s.sa.s.sination, they won't at abduction. I hope your letter to Don Gregorio may open his eyes about them, and put him on his guard. My Inez! who's to protect her? I'd give all I have in the world to be sure of her getting safely embarked in that Chilian ship. Once there, dear old Harry Blew will take care of her--of them both."

Cadwallader's words seem strangely to affect his companion, changing the expression upon his countenance. It is still shadowed, but the cloud is of a different kind. From anger it has altered to anxiety!

"You've struck a chord, Will, that, while not soothing the old pain, gives me a new one. I wasn't thinking of that; my thoughts were all occupied with the other trouble--you understand?"

"I do. At the same, I think you make too much of the other trouble, as you call it. I confess it troubles me too a little; though, perhaps, not as it does you. And luckily less, the more I reflect on it. After all, there don't seem so much to be bothered about. As you know, Ned, it's a common thing among Spanish-Americans, whose customs are altogether unlike our own--to have gamblers going into their best society. Besides, I can tell you something that may comfort you a little--a bit of information I had from Inez, as we were _platicando_ along the road on our ride. It was natural she should speak about the sky-blue fellow and my sticking his horse in the hip."

"What did she say?" asks Crozier, with newly awakened interest.

"That he was a gentleman by birth; but falling fast, and indeed quite down."

"And De Lara; did she say aught of him?"

"She did; she spoke of him still more disparagingly, though knowing him less. She said he had been introduced to them by the other, and they were accustomed to meet him on occasions. But of late they had learned more of him; and learning this, her aunt--your Carmen--had become very desirous of cutting his acquaintance, as indeed all of them. And that they intended doing so--even if they had remained in California. But now--so soon leaving it, they did not like to humiliate De Lara by giving him the _conge_ he deserves."

Crozier, with eyes earnestly fixed upon Cadwallader, has listened to the explanation. At its close he cries out, grasping his comrade's hand:

"Will! you've lifted a load from my heart. I now see daylight where all seemed darkness; and beholding yonder hill feel the truth of Campbell's splendid lines:--

"A kiss can consecrate the ground, Where mated hearts are mutual bound; The spot, where love's first links are wound, That ne'er are riven, Is hallowed down to Earth's profound, And up to Heaven!"

After repeating the pa.s.sionate words, he stands gazing on a spot so consecrated to him--the summit of the hill--where, just twenty-four hours ago, he spoke love's last appeal to Carmen Montijo. For the _Crusader_ has pa.s.sed out through the Golden Gate, and is now beating down the coast of the Pacific.

Cadwallader's eyes, with equal interest, are turned upon the same spot, and for a time both are silent, absorbed in sweet reflections; recalling all that had occurred in a scene whose slightest incident neither can ever forgot.

Only when the land looms low, and the outlines of the San Bruno Mountains begin to blend with the purpling sky, does a shadow again show itself on the countenances of the young officers. But now it is different, no longer expressing chagrin, nor the rancour of jealousy; but doubt, apprehension, fear, for the loved ones left behind. Still the cloud has a silver lining, and that is--Harry Blew.

CHAPTER FORTY TWO.

A SOLEMN COMPACT.

A Cottage of the old Californian kind--in other words, a _rancho_; one of the humblest of these humble dwellings--the homes of the Spanish-American poor. It is a mere hut, thatched with a species of sea-sh.o.r.e gra.s.s, the "broombent" seen growing in the sand-dunes near by.

For it is by the sea, or within sight of it; inconspicuously placed by reason of rugged rocks, that cl.u.s.ter around, and soar up behind, forming a background in keeping with the rude architectural style of the dwelling. From the land side it is only approachable by devious and difficult paths, known but to a few familiar friends of its owner.

From the sh.o.r.e, equally difficult, for the little cove leading up to it would not have depth sufficient to permit the pa.s.sage of a boat, but for a tiny stream trickling seaward, which has furrowed out a channel in the sand. That by this boats can enter the cove is evident from one being seen moored near its inner end, in front of, and not far from, the hovel. As it is a craft of the kind generally used by Californian fishermen--more especially those who chase the fur-seal--it may be deduced that the owner of the hut is a seal-hunter.

This is his profession reputedly; though there are some who ascribe to him callings of a different kind; among others, insinuating that he occasionally does business as a _contrabandista_.

Whether true or not, Rafael Rocas--for he is the owner of the hut--is not the man to trouble himself about denying it. He would scarce consider smuggling an aspersion on his character; and indeed, under old Mexican administration, it would have been but slight blame, or shame, to him. And not such a great deal either under the new, at the time of which we write, but perhaps still less. Compared with other crimes then rife in California, contrabandism might almost be reckoned an honest calling.

But Rafael Rocas has a repute for doings of a yet darker kind. With those slightly acquainted with him it is only suspicion; but a few of his more intimate a.s.sociates can say for certain that he is not disinclined to a stroke of road robbery or a job at housebreaking; so that, if times have changed for the worse, he has not needed any change to keep pace with them.

It is the day on which the British frigate sailed from San Francis...o...b..y, and he is in his hut; not alone, but in the company of three men, in personal appearance altogether unlike himself. While he wears the common garb of a Californian fisherman--loose pea-coat of coa.r.s.e canvas, rough water-boots, and seal-skin cap--they are attired in costly stuffs--cloaks of finest broadcloth, _jaquetas_ of rich velvet, and _cahoneras_, lashed with gold lace, and gleaming with constellations of b.u.t.tons.

Notwithstanding their showy magnificence, the seal-hunter, smuggler, or whatever he may be, does not appear to treat his guests with any obsequious deference. On the contrary, he is engaged with them in familiar converse, and by his tone and gestures, showing that he feels himself their equal.

Two of the individuals thus oddly consorting are already well known to the reader--the third but slightly. The former are Francisco de Lara and Faustino Calderon; the latter is Don Manuel Diaz, famed for his fighting c.o.c.ks. The first two have just entered under Rocas' roof, finding the c.o.c.kfighter already there, as De Lara predicted.

After welcoming his newly arrived guests in Spanish-American fashion, placing his house at their disposal--"_Mia casa a la disposition de Vms_,"--the seal-hunter has set before them a bottle of his best liquor--this being _aguardiente_ of Tequila. They have taken off their outer apparel--cloaks and hats--and are seated around a small deal table, the only one the shanty contains--its furniture being of the scantiest and most primitive kind.

Some conversation of a desultory nature has pa.s.sed between them; but they have now entered on a subject more interesting and particular, the keynote having been struck by De Lara. He opens by asking a question:

"Caballeros! do you want to be rich?"

All three laugh, while simultaneously answering:

"_Carramba_! Yes."

Diaz adds:

"I've heard many an idle interrogatory; but never, in all my life, one so superfluous as yours; not even when there's twenty to one offered against a staggering c.o.c.k."

Rocas inquires:

"What do ye call rich, Don Francisco?"

"Well," responds the Creole, "say sixty thousand dollars. I suppose you'd consider that sufficient to bestow the t.i.tle?"

"Certainly," rejoins Rocas; "not only the t.i.tle, but the substantial and real thing. If I'd only the half of it, I'd give up chasing seals."

"And I c.o.c.k fighting," put in Diaz; "that is, so far as to look to it for a living; though I might still incline to have a main for pastime's sake. With sixty thousand dollars at my back, I'd go for being a grand ganadero, like friend Faustino here, whose horses and horned cattle yield him such a handsome income."

The other three laugh at this, since it is known to all of them that the ganadero has long since got rid both of his horses and horned cattle.

"Well, gentlemen," says De Lara, after this bit of preliminary skirmishing, "I can promise each of you the sum I speak of, if you're willing to go in with me in a little affair I've fixed upon. Are you the men for it?"

"Your second question is more sensible than the first, though equally uncalled for--at least so far as concerns me. I'm the man to go in for anything which promises to make me the owner of sixty thousand dollars."

It is Diaz who thus unconditionally declares himself Calderon endorses it by a declaration of like daring nature. The seal-hunter simply nods a.s.sent, but in a knowing manner. For he is already acquainted with De Lara's design; knows all about it; being, in fact, its real originator.

"Now, Don Francisco! let's know what you're driving at?" demands Diaz, adding: "Have you struck a _veta_, or discovered a rich _placer_? If so, we're ready for either rock-mining or pan-washing, so long as the labour's not too hard. Speak out, and tell us what it is. The thought of clutching such a pretty prize makes a man impatient."

"Well, I'll let you into the secret so far--it is a _veta_--a grand gold mine--a very _bonanza_--but one which will need neither rock-crushing nor mud-cradling. The gold has been already gathered; and lies in a certain place, all in a lump; only waiting transport to some other place, which we can select at our leisure."

"Your words sound well," remarks Don Manuel.

"Wonderful well," echoes Rocas, with a.s.sumed surprise.

"Are they not too good to be true?" asks Diaz.