The Flag of Distress Part 42

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 forecastle.

CHAPTER FIFTY.

AN APPALLING PROSPECT.

Harry Blew stands aghast--his hair on end, the blood coursing chill through his veins.

No wonder, after listening to such revelations! A plot diabolical--a scheme of atrocity unparalleled--comprising three horrible crimes: robbery, the abduction of women, and the murder of men; and among the last, himself.

Now knows he the cause of the crew's insubordination; too clearly comprehends it. Three hundred thousand dollars of gold-dust stowed in the cabin-lockers!

News to him; for Captain Lantanas had not made him acquainted with the fact--the treasure having been shipped before his coming aboard.

Indeed, on that same night when he went after Silvestre; for at the very time he was knocking at the ship-agent's office-door, Don Tomas, with a trusty waterman, was engaged in putting it aboard the Chilian ship.

An unfortunate arrangement, after all. And now too certain of ending disastrously, not only for Don Gregorio, but those dear to him, with others less interested, yet linked to his fate.

Though the ex-man-o'-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 everything over, perceives clearly enough what are the crimes to be committed, with the motives for committing them. There can be no ambiguity about the nature of the nefarious conspiracy. It has all been hatched, and pre-arranged, on sh.o.r.e; 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 a.s.sist 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 protect.

How it is to be averted! How he is to save Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez! How save himself?

These questions come crowding together, and repeat themselves 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 princ.i.p.als, or engaged a.s.sistants.

The conversation of the two convicts has told this. The second mate same as the rest; which to him, Harry Blew, causes no surprise. He had already made up his mind about Padilla; observing his sympathy with those who were showing insubordination. He had also noticed that whatever was up among them, Gil Gomez was the directing spirit; dominating Padilla, notwithstanding the latter's claim to superior authority as one of the ship's officers; while Velarde and Hernandez seemed also to be controlled by him. The last, Harry Blew has discovered to be a landsman, with no sea-experience whatever; when found out, excusing himself on the plea that he wished to work his pa.s.sage to Panama. The position of the other seven is understood by what Striker said. All are equal in the scheme of pillage and murder--though not to have equal reward.

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. They are all men of iniquity; and in defending the innocent he will have to stand alone. For it will amount to almost that, with no other help than Captain 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 fidelity might be depended upon; 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 Captain Lantanas what he has discovered, and which at first naturally occurred to him, he no longer entertains. The trusting Chilian skipper would scarce give credit to such an atrocious scheme. And if he did, in all likelihood it would result in his taking some rash step, which 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 in fancy he conjures up a fearful scene; vividly, as though the reality were before his eyes.

In the midst of the open ocean, or close to land, the tragedy to be enacted 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 ash.o.r.e, with their spoils and captives!

Contemplating such a scene--even though only in imagination--it is not strange that the _Condor's_ first officer feels a shivering throughout his frame. He feels it in every fibre. And reflection 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 is he sensible of the danger--sees it in all its stark-naked reality. Against such odds a conflict 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 despair almost paralysing his heart. He is unable to think steadily, or clearly.

Doubtful, unfeasible schemes shape themselves in his mind; idle thoughts flit across his brain; all the while wild tumultuous emotions coursing through his soul.

At length, and after prolonged reflection, he seems to have made a resolve. As his countenance is in shadow, its expression cannot be seen; but, judging by the words that are muttered by his lips, it is one which should be unworthy of a British sailor--in short, that of a _traitor_.

For his soliloquy seems to show that he has yielded to craven fear-- intends surrendering up the sacred trust reposed in him, and along with it his honour!

The words are:

"I must cast my lot in along wi' them. It's the only chance; an' for the savin' o' my own life! _I'll do that Lord help me, I'll do it_!"

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

PLOT UPON PLOT.

The _Condor_ is sailing barge, with a light breeze several points abaft the beam.

Jack Striker is at the wheel; and as the sea is smooth he finds it easy steering, having little to do but keep the barque steady by taking an occasional squint at the compa.s.s-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 gosling-green, both bleary, one of them bloodshot. For all, eyes that, by his own boast, "can see into a millstone 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.

"Comin' to con me," growls the ex-convict. "Don't want 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 is approaching along the port gangway. The latter, after springing up to the p.o.o.p-deck, stops opposite the steersman, as he does so, saying:

"Well, Striker, old chap! not much trouble with her to-night. She's going free too, with the wind in the right quarter. We ought to be making good nine knots?"

"All o' that, I daresay, sir," rejoins Striker, mollified by the affable manner in which the first officer has addressed him. "The barque ain't a bad 'un to go, though she be a queery-rigged craft's 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."

"I oughter, master," answers the helmsman, further flattered 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, hain'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 there, an' I don't care a bra.s.s fardin' who knows it."

"Neyther need ye. Many a good sailor can show the same. For myself, I hain't had the cat, but I've seed a man-o'-war sarvice, an' some roughish treatment too. An' I've seed sarvice on ships man-o'-war's men have chased--likin' that sort a little better; I did."

"Indeed!" exclaims the ex-convict, turning his eyes with increased interest on the man thus frankly confessing himself. "Smuggler? Or maybe slaver?"

"Little bit o' both. An' as you say 'bout the cat, _I_ don't care a bra.s.s fardin' who knows o' it. It's been a hardish world wi' me; plenty o' ups an' downs; the downs oftener 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. I daresay I'd 'a done a deal better by stayin' in Californey, an' goin' on to them gold-diggin's up in the Sacramenta mountains."

"You han't been theer, han't ye?"

"No. Never went a cable's length ayont the town o' Francisco."