The Flag of Distress Part 62

For a time the picture remains before their minds, dark as their gloomiest fancies can make it. Then across it shoot some rays of hope, saddened, but sweet, for they are thoughts 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," adds Crozier. "That we surely shall. If it costs all my money, all the days of my life, I'll revenge the wrongs of Carmen Montijo."

"And I those of Inez Alvarez."

For a while they stand silently brooding upon that which has brought such black shadow over their hearts. Then Cadwallader says:

"The scoundrels 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 one of them he knew there--Rocas the name, he says."

"It seems probable--indeed certain," rejoins Crozier. "Though it don't much matter how, or when, they planned the d.a.m.nable deed. Enough that they've done it. But to think of Harry Blew turning traitor, and taking part with them! That is to me the strangest thing of all, frightfully, painfully, strange."

"But do you believe he _has_ acted in such a manner?"

"How can one 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 ingrat.i.tude! Cadwallader, I'd as soon have thought of suspecting yourself!"

"His conduct, certainly, seems incredible. I believed 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 in my embrace again, and he'll have a hug that'll squeeze the last breath out of his body!"

"The chance may come yet, 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!" a.s.serts the lieutenant; "let us." They proceed towards the fore-deck in silence, their countenances showing a nervous apprehension. For there is a thought in their hearts, which neither has yet made known to the other--blacker, and more bitter, than even the thought of Harry Blew's treason.

Unspoken, they carry it into the forecastle; but they are not many minutes there, before seeing what brings it out, without either saying a word.

A bunk--the most conspicuous of the two tiers--is explored first. They turn out of it papers of various sorts: some letters, several numbers of an old newspaper, and a pack of Spanish playing-cards--all pictured.

But among them is one of a different sort--a white one, 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."

His own!

He does not need to be told how the card came there. Too well remembers he when, where, and to whom he gave it--to Don Francisco De Lara on the day of their encounter.

Thrusting it into his pocket, he clutches at the letters, and looks at their superscription--"_Don Francisco de Lara_!"

Opening, he rapidly reads them one after another. His hands holding them shake as with a palsy; while in his eyes there is a look of keenest apprehension. For he fears that, subscribed to some, he will find another name--that of Carmen Montijo! If so, farewell to all faith in human kind. Harry Blew's ingrat.i.tude has destroyed his belief in man.

A letter from the daughter of Don Gregorio Montijo to the gambler Frank Lara, will alike wither his confidence in woman.

With eager eyes, and lips compressed, he continues the perusal of the letters. They are from many correspondents, and relate to various matters, most about money and _monte_, signed "Faustino Calderon."

As the last of them slips through his fingers, he breathes freely, but with a sigh of self-reproach for having doubted the woman who was to have been his wife.

Turning to Cadwallader--as himself aware of all--he says, in solemn emphasis:

"_Now we know_!"

CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE.

THE LAST LEAF IN THE LOG.

No common pirates then, no mere crew of mutinous sailors, have carried off Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez. It has been done by Francisco de Lara and Faustino Calderon, if or although there is no evidence of the latter having been aboard the barque, it is deducible, and not even doubtful. For a scheme such as that, the confederates were not likely to have parted.

The young officers have returned to the quarterdeck, and there stand gazing in one another's faces; on both an expression of anguish, which the new discovery has intensified. It was painful enough to think of their betrothed sweethearts being the sport of rough robbers; but to picture them in the power of De Lara and 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 a.s.sisted them; but with them the motive was different--I see it now."

"Do you know, Ned, I half suspected it from the first. You remember what I said as we were leaving 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 would lay down his life for theirs?"

"He swore it--to me he swore it. Oh! if ever I set eyes on him again, I'll make him suffer for that broken oath!"

"What do you propose doing, after we reach Panama? If we find the frigate there, we'll be obliged to join her."

"Obliged! there's no obligation to bind a man situated as I--reckless as this misery makes me. Unless Captain Bracebridge consents to a.s.sist us in the search, I'll go alone."

"Not alone. There's one will be with you."

"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 have taken to an open boat."

"In sight of--close to it, I've been questioning Don Gregorio. He knows that much and but little beside. The poor gentleman is almost as crazed as the skipper. I wonder he's not more. He says they had sighted land that very morning, the first they saw since leaving California. The captain told them they would be in Panama in about two days after. As the boat was being rowed away, Don Gregorio saw a coast-line through the cabin windows, and not far-off. He saw their boat too, and they appeared making straight for it. Of course they--. That's all I can get out of the poor old gentleman, at present."

"The negro? Can he tell no better story?"

"I've questioned him too. He is equally sure of their having been close in. 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 have kept them, he could have told us where he was at the time the barque was abandoned.

It's 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 have; and been searching for it everywhere. But it's gone; and what's become of it, I know not. They may have thrown it overboard before forsaking the ship--possibly to blot out all traces. Still, it's odd too, De Lara leaving these letters behind!"

"And the barque under all sail."

"Well, I take it, they were hurried, and of course expected she'd soon go to the bottom. Strange she didn't. No doubt she's met only smooth weather till we came aboard her."

"I wonder where her log-book can be?"

"Not more than I. The old darkey says it used to lie on a little shelf at the turning of the cabin-stair. I've looked there, but no log-book.

As you say, it's enough to make one believe the Fates were against us.