Part 48 (1/2)
”Who was the last?” thunders the irate skipper.
”Gil Gomez,” gruffly replies Striker.
”Yes; it was he,” says the first mate, who has come aft along with the captain. ”The watch was Senor Padilla's, and Gomez has just left the wheel.”
”Where is Gomez?” asks the captain, still in a towering pa.s.sion, unusual for him.
”Gone forward, sir: he's down in the forecastle.”
”Call him up! Send him to me at once!”
The first officer hurries away towards the head, and soon returns, Gomez with him.
The latter meets the gaze of Lantanas with a sullen look, which seems to threaten disobedience.
”How is this?” asks the Chilian. ”You had the wheel during the last watch. Where have you been running to?”
”In the course you commanded, Captain Lantanas.”
”That can't be, sir. If you'd kept her on as I set her, the land couldn't have been there, lying almost across, our cut-water. I understand my chart too well to have made such a mistake.”
”I don't know anything about your chart,” sulkily rejoins the sailor.
”All I know is, that I kept the barque's head as directed. If she hasn't answered to it, that's no fault of mine; and I don't much like being told it is.”
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 the relieved steersman appears confident about it, he dismisses him without further parley, or reprimand.
Seeing that there will be no difficulty in yet clearing the point, his anger cools down, and he is but too glad to withdraw from an angry discussion uncongenial to his nature.
The _Condor_ now hauled close to wind, soon regains lost weather-way, sufficient for the doubling of Punta Marietta; and before the bells of the second dog-watch are sounded, she is in a fair way of weathering the cape. The difficulty has been more easily removed by the wind veering suddenly round to the opposite point of the compa.s.s. For now near night, the land-breeze has commenced blowing off-sh.o.r.e.
Well acquainted with the coast, and noticing the change, Captain Lantanas believes all danger past; and with the tranquillity of his temper restored, goes back into his cabin, to join his pa.s.sengers at dinner, just in the act of being served.
CHAPTER FIFTY SIX.
PANAMA OR SANTIAGO?
It is the hour of setting the first night-watch, and the bells have been struck; not to summon any sailor from the forecastle, but intended only for the cabin and the ears of Captain Lantanas--lest the absence of the usual sound should awaken his suspicion, that all was not going right.
This night neither watch will be below, but all hands on deck, mates as foremast-men; and engaged in something besides the navigation of the vessel--in short, in destroying her! And, soon as the first shades of night descend over her, the crew is seen a.s.sembling by the manger-board close to the night-heads--all save the man who has charge of the steering, on this occasion Slush.
The muster by the manger-board is to take measures for carrying out their scheme of piracy and plunder, now on the eve of execution. The general 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 in their midst. A British sailor--to say nought of an old man-of-war's man--better might have been expected of him. But he _is_ there; and not only taking part with them, but apparently acting as their leader.
His speech too clearly proclaims him chief of the conspiring crew. His actions also, as they have ever been, since the day when he signified to Striker his intention to join them. After entering into the conspiracy, he has shown an a.s.siduity to carry it out worthy of a better cause.
His first act was backing up Striker's call for an equal division of the bounty. Holding the position of chief officer, this at once established his influence over the others; since increased by the zeal he has displayed--so that he now holds first place among the pirates, nearly all of them acknowledging, and submitting to, his authority.
If Edward Crozier could but see him now, and hear what he is saying, he would never more have faith in human being. Thinking of Carmen Montijo, the young officer has doubted women; witnessing the behaviour of Henry Blew, he might not only doubt man, but curse him.
Well for the recreant sailor, Crozier is not present in that conclave by the night-heads of the _Condor_. If he were, there would be speedy death to one he could not do otherwise than deem a traitor.
But the young officer is far away--a thousand miles of trackless ocean _now_ between _Condor_ and _Crusader_--little dreaming of the danger that threatens her to whom he has given heart, and promised hand; while Harry Blew is standing in the midst of ruffians plotting her ruin!
O man! O British sailor! where is your grat.i.tude? What has become of your honour--your oath? The first gone; the second disregarded; the last broken!