Among the vessels lying in the harbour of San Francisco is one athwart
whose stern is lettered the name _El Condor_.
She is a ship of small dimensions--some five or six hundred tons--
devoted to peaceful commerce, as can be told by certain peculiarities of
rig and structure, understood by the initiated in nautical affairs.
The name will suggest a South American nationality--Ecuadorian,
Peruvian, Bolivian, or Chilian--since the bird after which she has been
baptised is found in all these States. Columbia and the Argentine
Confederation can also claim it.
But there is no need to guess at the particular country to which the
craft in question belongs. The flag suspended over her taffrail
declares it, by a symbolism quite intelligible to those who take an
interest in national insignia.
It is a tricolour--the orthodox red, white, and blue--not, as with the
French, disposed vertically, but in two horizontal bands; the lower one
crimson red, the upper half-white, half-blue--the last contiguous to the
staff, with a single five-pointed star set centrally in its field. This
disposition of colours proclaims the ship that carries them to be
Chilian.
She is not the only Chilian craft in the harbour of San Francisco.
Several others are there showing the same colours; brigs, barques,
schooners, and ships. For the spirited little South American Republic
is as prosperous as enterprising, and its flag waves far and wide over
the Pacific. With its population of skilled miners, it had been among
the first of foreign states in sending a large representative force to
"cradle" the gold _placers_ of California, and not only are its ships
lying in the bay, but its _guasos_ and _gambusinos_ in goodly number
tread the streets of the town; while many of the dark-eyed damsels, who
from piazzas and balconies salute the passer-by with seductive smiles,
are those charming little Chilenas that make havoc with the heart of
almost every Jack-tar who visits Valparaiso.
On the ship _El Condor_ we meet not much that can be strictly called
Chilian; little besides the vessel herself and the captain commanding
her. Not commanding her sailors: since there are none upon her hailing
from Chili or elsewhere. Those who brought the _Condor_ into San
Francisco Bay have abandoned her--gone off to the gold-diggings!
Arriving in the heat of the _placer-fever_, they preferred seeking
fortune with pick, shovel, and pan, to handling tarry ropes at ten
dollars a month. Almost on the instant of the ship's dropping anchor
they deserted to a man, leaving her skipper to himself, or with only his
cook for a companion.
Neither is the latter Chilian, but African--a native of Zanzibar. No
more the two great monkeys, observed gambolling about the deck; for the
climate of Chili, lying outside the equatorial belt, is too cold for
indigenous _quadrumana_.
Not much appearing upon the _Condor_ would proclaim her a South American
ship; and nothing in her cargo, for a cargo she carries. She has just
arrived from a trading voyage to the South Sea Isles, extending to the
Indian Archipelago, whence her lading--a varied assortment, consisting
of tortoise-shell, spices, mother-of-pearl, Manilla cigars, and such
other commodities as may be collected among the Oriental islands. Hence
also the _myas_ monkeys--better known as orang-outangs--seen playing
about her deck. These she has brought from Borneo.
Only a small portion of her freight had been consigned to San Francisco;
this long ago landed. The rest remains in her hold for further
transport to Valparaiso.
How soon she may arrive there, or take departure from her present
anchorage, is a question that even her skipper cannot answer. If asked,
he would most probably reply, "_Quien sabe_?" and, further pressed,
might point to her deserted decks, offering that as an explanation of
his inability to satisfy the inquirer.
Her captain--Antonio Lantanas by name--is a sailor of the
Spanish-American type; and being this, he takes crosses and
disappointments coolly. Even the desertion of his crew seems scarcely
to have ruffled him; he bears it with a patient resignation, that would
be quite incomprehensible to either English or Yankee skipper. With a
broad-brimmed _jipi-japa_ hat shading his swarth features from the sun,
he lounges all day long upon the quarterdeck, his elbows usually rested
upon the capstan-head; his sole occupation rolling and smoking paper
cigarritos, one of which is usually either in his fingers, or between
his lips. If he at any time varies this, it is to eat his meals, or to
take a turn at play with his pet monkeys.
These creatures are male and female, both full of fun in their uncouth
fashion; and Captain Lantanas takes it out of them by occasionally
touching their snouts with the lit end of his cigarette, laughing to see
them scamper off, scared at the (to them) singular, and somewhat
painful, effect of fire.
His meals are served regularly three times a day, and his cook--the
aforesaid negro, black as the tar upon the rattlin ropes--after having
served them, returns to an idleness equalling his own. He too, has his
diversion with the orangs, approaching much nearer to them in physical
appearance, and for this reason, perhaps, a more congenial playmate.
Once a day the skipper steps into his gig, and rows himself ashore. But
not to search for sailors. He knows that would be an idle errand.
True, there are plenty of them in San Francisco; scores parading its
streets, and other scores seated, or standing, within its taverns and
restaurants. But they are all on the spree--all rollicking, and if not
rich, hoping soon to be. Not a man of them could be coaxed to take
service on board an outbound ship for wages less than would make the
voyage little profitable to her owner.
As the Chilian skipper is not only master, but proprietor of his own
craft, he has no intention to stir under the circumstances; but is
contented to wait till times change, and tars become inclined again to
go to sea. When this may be, and the _Condor_ shall spread her canvas
wings for a further flight to Valparaiso, he has not the remotest idea.
When he enters the town, it is to meet other skippers with ships
crewless as his own, and exchange condolences on their common
destitution.
On a certain day--that on which we are introduced to him--he has not
sculled himself ashore, but abides upon his vessel, awaiting the arrival
of one who has sent a message forewarning him of an intended visit.
Although San Francisco is fast becoming transformed into an American
city, and already has its half-dozen newspapers, there is among these a
small sheet printed in Spanish, by name _El Diario_. In it Captain
Lantanas has advertised his vessel, for freight or passage, bound for
Valparaiso, and to call at intermediate ports--Panama among the number.
The advertisement directs reference to be made to a shipping-agent, by
name Don Tomas Silvestre.
In answer to it, the Chilian has received a letter from a gentleman who
had already communicated with the agent, and who has promised to present
himself on board the _Condor_ by 12 mid-day of this same day.
Although a stranger to the port of San Francisco, Captain Lantanas has
some knowledge of his correspondent; for Don Tomas has the day before
informed him that a gentleman from whom he may expect to hear--the same
whose name is signed to the letter--is a man of immense wealth; a landed
proprietor, whose acres lie contiguous to the rising city of San
Francisco, and for this reason enormously increased in value by the
influx of gold-seeking immigrants. What this important personage may
want with him, Lantanas cannot tell; for Silvestre himself has not been
made aware of it--the gentleman declining to state his business to any
other than the captain of the ship.
On the morning of the appointed day, leaning as usual against his
capstan, and puffing his paper cigar, the Chilian skipper is not in a
mood for playing with his monkey pets. His mind is given to a more
serious matter, his whole thoughts absorbed in conjecturing for what
purpose his unknown correspondent may be seeking the interview.
He is not without surmises, in which he is assisted by something he has
heard while mixing in Spanish circles ashore--this, that the landowner
in question has lately sold his land, realising a very large sum--half a
million dollars being the amount stated. Furthermore, that being a
Peninsular Spaniard, and neither Mexican nor Californian, he is about to
return to Spain, taking with him his household gods--Lares, Penates, and
all.
These could not be stowed in a single state-room, but would require a
whole ship, or a goodly portion of one. The _Condor_ has still plenty
of room to spare. Her hold is not half full; and her cabin has
accommodation for one or two passengers. May it be on this business his
correspondent is coming aboard.
So Captain Lantanas interrogates himself, while standing upon his
quarterdeck, and with the glowing coal of his cigarrito sending off his
hairy familiars, who, in their play, at times intrude upon him.
It pleases him to think he may have surmised correctly; and, while still
indulging in conjectures, he sees that which puts an end to them--a
shore-boat, with a single pair of rowers, and a gentleman--evidently a
landsman--seated in the stern-sheets, to all appearance coming on for
the _Condor_.
Captain Lantanas steps to the side of his ship; and, standing in her
waist, awaits the arrival of his visitor.
As the boat draws near he makes out a man, dressed in semi-Californian
costume, such as is worn by the higher class of _haciendados_. The
skipper can have no doubts about who it is. If he has, they are soon
set at rest; for the boat touching the ship's side is instantly made
fast; the _haciendado_ mounts the man-ropes; and, stepping down upon the
deck, hands Captain Lantanas his card.
He who has thus presented himself is a man in years well up to sixty,
and somewhat above medium height. Taller than he appears, through a
slight stoop in the shoulders. His step, though not tottering, shows
vigour impaired; and upon his countenance are the traces of recent
illness, with strength not yet restored. His complexion is clear,
rather rubicund, and in health might be more so; while his hair, both on
head and chin--the latter furnished with a long flowing beard--is
snow-white. It could never have been very dark, but more likely of the
colour called sandy. This, with greyish-blue eyes, and features showing
some points of Celtic conformation, would argue him either no Spaniard,
or if so, one belonging to the province of Biscay.
This last he is; for the correspondent of Captain Lantanas is Don
Gregorio Montijo.