Part 51 (1/2)
Stepping out on the quarterdeck, they stand for a short while, the moon s.h.i.+ning on their faces, both bright and innocent as her beams. Then they stroll aft, little dreaming of the doom that awaits them.
That sight should soften his traitorous heart. Instead, it seems but to steel it the more--as if their presence recalled and quickened within him some vow of revenge. He hesitates no longer; but gliding back to the hatch, climbs over its coaming, and, lantern in hand, drops down into the hold--there to do a deed which neither light of moon nor sun should s.h.i.+ne upon.
Though within the tropic zone, and but a few degrees from the equinoctial line, there is chillness in the air of the night, now nearing its mid-hours.
Drawing their cloaks closer around them, the young ladies mount up to the p.o.o.p-deck, and stand resting their hands on the taffrail.
For a time they are silent; their eyes directed over the stern, watching the foam in the s.h.i.+p's wake, lit up with luminous phosph.o.r.escence.
They observe other scintillation besides that caused by the _Condor's_ keel. There are broad splatches of it all over the surface of the sea, with here and there elongated _sillons_, seemingly made by some creatures in motion, swimming parallel to the s.h.i.+p's course, and keeping pace with her.
They have not voyaged through thirty degrees of the Pacific Ocean to be now ignorant of what these are. They know them to be sharks, as also that some of larger size and brighter luminosity are the tracks of the _tintorera_--that species so much-dreaded by the pearl-divers of Panama Bay and the Californian Gulf.
This night both _tiburones_ and _tintoreras_ are more numerous than they have ever observed them--closer also to the vessel's side; for the sharks, observantly have seen a boat lowered down, which gives antic.i.p.ation of prey within nearer reach of their ravenous jaws.
”_Santissima_!” exclaims Carmen, as one makes a dash at some waif drifting astern. ”What a fearful thing it would be to fall overboard there--in the midst of those horrid creatures! One wouldn't have the slightest chance of being saved. Only to think how little s.p.a.ce there is between us and certain death! See that monster just below, with its great, glaring eyes! It looks as if it wanted to leap up, and lay hold of us. Ugh! I mustn't keep my eyes on it any longer. It makes me tremble in a strange way. I do believe, if I continued gazing at it, I should grow giddy, and drop into its jaws.”
She draws back a pace or two, and for some moments remains silent-- pensive. Perhaps she is thinking of a sailor saved from sharks after falling among them, and more still of the man who saved him. Whether or no, she soon again speaks, saying:
”_Sobrina_! are you not glad we're so near the end of our voyage?”
”I'm not sorry, _tia_--I fancy no one ever is. I should be more pleased, however, if it _were_ the end of our voyage, which unfortunately it isn't. Before we see Spain, we've another equally as long.”
”True--as long in duration, and distance. But otherwise, it may be very different, and I hope more endurable. Across the Atlantic we'll have pa.s.sage in a big steams.h.i.+p, with a grand dining saloon, and state sleeping-rooms, each in itself as large as the main-cabin of the _Condor_. Besides, we'll have plenty of company--pa.s.sengers like ourselves. Let us hope they may turn out nice people. If so, our Atlantic voyage will be more enjoyable than this on the Pacific.”
”But we've been very comfortable in the _Condor_; and _I'm_ sure Captain Lantanas has done all he could to make things agreeable for us.”
”He has indeed, the dear good creature; and I shall ever feel grateful to him. Still you must admit that, however well meant, we've been at times a little bored by his learned dissertations. O Inez, it's been awfully lonely, and frightfully monotonous--at least, to me.”
”Ah! I understand. What you want is a bevy of bachelors as fellow-pa.s.sengers, young ones at that. Well; I suppose there will be some in the big steamer. Like enough, a half-score of our moustached _militarios_, returning from Cuba and other colonies. Wouldn't that make our Atlantic voyage enjoyable?”
”Not mine--nothing of the sort, as you ought to know. To speak truth, it was neither the loneliness nor monotony of our Pacific voyage that has made it so miserable. Something else.”
”I think I can guess the something else.”
”If so, you'll be clever. It's more than I can.”
”Might it have anything to do with that informal leave-taking? Come, Carmen--you promised me you'd think no more about it till we see them in Cadiz, and have it all cleared up.”
”You're wrong again, Inez. It is not anything of that.”
”What then? It can't be the _mare amiento_? Of it I might complain.
I'm even suffering from it now--although the water is so smooth. But you! why, you stand the sea as well as one of those rough sailors themselves! You're just the woman to be a naval officer's wife; and when your _novio_ gets command of a s.h.i.+p, I suppose you'll be for circ.u.mnavigating the world with him.”
”You're merry, _mora_.”
”Well, who wouldn't be, with the prospect of soon setting foot on land.
For my part, I detest the sea; and when I marry my little _guardia-marina_, I'll make him forsake it, and take to some pleasanter profession. And if he prefer doing nothing, by good luck the rent of my lands will keep us both comfortably, with something to spare for a town house in Cadiz. But say, Carmen! What's troubling you? Surely you must know?”