"HASTA CADIZ!"
On leaving Captain Lantanas, the _ex-ganadero_ returns to his house--
though not direct. He has business to transact in the town, which stays
him. He has to see Don Tomas Silvestre, the shipping-agent, and give
directions about inserting the advertisement for sailors. That is an
affair that will occupy only a few minutes. But he has another with the
agent of a more important kind. He is personally acquainted with
Silvestre, who is, like himself, a Peninsular Spaniard and Biscayan.
Don Gregorio knows he can trust him, and does--telling him all he has
told Lantanas, making further known the arrangement he has entered into
for passages to Panama, and instructing him to assist the Chilian
skipper in procuring a crew.
The more confidential matter relates to the shipment of his gold-dust.
He trembles to think of the risk he runs of losing it. San Francisco is
filled with queer characters--men who would stick at nothing.
Don Tomas knows this without being told. And the thought haunts the
Biscayan like a spectre, that he will have his treasure taken from him
by theft, burglary, or bold open robbery.
He has good reason for so apprehending. Among the latest accessions to
the population of San Francisco all three classes of criminals are
represented, and in no stinted numbers. There are ticket-of-leave men
from Australia, jail-birds from the penitentiaries of the States,
'scape-the-gallows customers from every quarter of the globe; to say
nothing of the native bandits, of which California has its share. If
known to these that yellow metal, to the value of three hundred thousand
dollars, was lying unguarded in the house of Don Gregorio Montijo, it
would not be there many days or nights. Its owner has done what he
could to keep this a secret; but the sale and transfer of his land have
leaked out, as also the handsome price obtained, and paid over to him;
hence a natural inference that the cash must be deposited somewhere.
And everyone well knows it will be in gold-dust; since banks have not
yet been established, and there are not obtainable notes enough in San
Francisco to cover a tenth part of the amount. He had tried to convert
it thus--as more convenient for carriage and safety--but failed.
In fine, after confiding his fears to Silvestre, and taking counsel from
him, he decides upon the plan, already in part communicated to Captain
Lantanas--of having the endangered gold-dust secretly conveyed to the
_Condor_ that very night. Don Tomas will provide the boat, with a
trusty sailor-servant he has attached to his establishment, to assist in
the removal and rowing. They can take it aboard without passing through
the town, or at all touching at the port. The boat can be brought to
the beach below Don Gregorio's house, and the gold quietly carried down
to it. Thence they can transport it direct to the ship. Once there,
Lantanas will know how to dispose of it; and surely it will be safe in
his custody--at all events, safer there than anywhere else in San
Francisco. So thinks Don Gregorio, the ship-agent agreeing with him.
Soon everything is settled; for they spend not many minutes in
discussing the matter. The _ex-ganadero_ knows that by this time his
house will be empty, excepting the servants: for the ride on which his
girls have gone was arranged by himself, to gratify his expected
visitors. He thinks apprehensively of the unprotected treasure, and
longs to be beside it. So, remounting the stout cob that brought him to
town, he rides hastily home.
On arrival there, he retires to his sleeping apartment; where he spends
the remainder of the day, having given strict orders not to be called,
till the party of equestrians comes back.
But although confining himself to the chamber, he does not go to bed,
nor otherwise take repose. On the contrary, he is busy throughout the
whole afternoon, getting ready his treasure for surreptitious transport,
for it is there in the room--has been ever since it came into his
possession. Almost fearing to trust it out of his sight, he sleeps
beside it.
Some of it is in bags, some in boxes; and he now rearranges it in the
most convenient form for carriage to the Chilian ship, and safe stowage
in her cabin-lockers.
He has not yet completed his task, when he hears the trampling of hoofs
on the gravelled sweep outside. The riding-party has returned.
The _saguan_ bell rings; the heavy door grates back on its hinges; and,
soon after, the horses, with the riders still on their backs, stand
panting in the _patio_.
The master of the house sallies forth to receive his guests. He sees
them hastening to assist the ladies in dismounting. But before either
cavalier can come near them, both leap lightly out of their saddles;
then, gliding into the corridor, fling their arms around Don Gregorio's
neck--daughter and grand-daughter alike calling him "papa."
They are effusively affectionate--more than usually so--for this night
both have a favour to ask of him. And he knows, or can guess, what it
is. He has not been blind to what has been passing between them, and
the young English officers. He suspects that vows have been exchanged--
a double proposal made--and anticipates a demand upon himself to
sanction it.
In both cases he is prepared to do this. For he is not unacquainted
with either the character, or social standing, of those seeking an
alliance with him. He has been aboard the British frigate, and from
Captain Bracebridge obtained information on these points. Satisfactory
in every sense. Both the young officers bear an excellent reputation.
Though differing in other respects, they are alike skilled in their
profession--each "every inch a seaman," as their commander worded it.
Besides, both are of good family--Cadwallader moderately rich--Crozier
in prospect of being immensely so--either of them fit mate for the
proudest senora in Spain. Don Gregorio's reason for supposing that on
this day engagements have been entered into, is, that the young officers
are about to take departure from the port. The _Crusader_ is under
Admiralty orders to sail for the Sandwich Islands, soon as a corvette
coming thence reaches San Francisco. Captain Bracebridge has been
commissioned by the British Government to transact some diplomatic
business with King Kamehameha. That done, he is to look in at the ports
of Panama and Callao; then home--afterwards to join the Mediterranean
squadron. As the _Crusader_, on her way to the Mediterranean, will
surely call at Cadiz, the vows this day exchanged on the shore of the
Pacific, can be thus conveniently renewed on the other side of the
Atlantic.
At dinner--which is served soon after and in sumptuous style--Don
Gregorio makes his guests aware of the fact, that he has secured
passages for Panama, and may leave San Francisco soon as they. He
confides to them the secret of his having chartered the Chilian ship--in
short, telling them all he has told her captain--echoing the lament made
by the latter about his difficulty in obtaining a crew.
"Perhaps," rejoins Crozier, after hearing this, "I can help your skipper
to at least one good sailor. Do you think, Will," he continues,
addressing himself to the young Welshman, "that Harry Blew is still in
San Francisco, or has he gone off to the diggings?"
"I fancy he's still here," responds Cadwallader. "He was aboard the
frigate only the day before yesterday--having a shake hands with his old
comrades of the forecastle."
"Who is the Senor Bloo?" inquires their host.
"A true British tar--if you know what that means, Don Gregorio--lately
belonging to our ship, and one of the best sailors on our books. He's
off them now, as his time was out; and like many another, though not
better man, has made up his mind to go gold-seeking on the Sacramento.
Still, if he be not gone, I think we might persuade him to take a trip
on the craft you speak of. It was once Harry's sinister luck to slip
overboard in the harbour of Guaymas--dropping almost into the jaws of a
_tintorero_ shark--and my good fortune to be able to rescue him out of
his perilous plight. He is not the man to be ungrateful; and, if still
in San Francisco, I think you may count upon him for taking service on
board this Chilian vessel. True, he's only one, but worth two--ay, ten.
He not only knows how to work a ship's sails, but on a pinch could take
a lunar, and make good any port in the Pacific."
"A most valuable man!" exclaims Don Gregorio; "would be worth his weight
in gold to Captain Lantanas. I'm sure the Chilian skipper would at once
make him his mate. Do you suppose you can find him?"
"If in San Francisco, yes. We shall search for him this very night;
and, if found, send him either to the Chilian skipper or to the
shipping-agent you've spoken of--Silvestre. By the way, what's his
address?"
"Here," answers Don Gregorio, drawing forth a card, and handing it
across the table to Crozier. "That's the place where Don Tomas
transacts business. It's but a poor little shed down by the beach, near
the new pier, lately constructed. Indeed, I believe he sleeps there--
house-rent in San Francisco being at present something fabulous."
"This will do," says Crozier, putting the card into his pocket. "If
Henry Blew can be found, he won't be far from Silvestre's office--if not
this night, by early daybreak to-morrow morning."
It is not the custom of either Spaniards, or Spanish-Americans, to tarry
long over the dinner-table. The cloth once removed, and the ladies
gone, a glass or two of Port, Xeres, or Pedro Ximenes, and the gentlemen
also retire; not for business, but recreation out of doors, so pleasant
in southern climes.
Dona Carmen and her niece have ascended to the _azotea_, to enjoy the
sweet twilight of a Californian summer; whither they are soon followed
by Crozier and Cadwallader.
The master of the house has for a time parted with them--under the
excuse of having affairs to attend to. It is to complete the packing of
his gold-dust. But before leaving the _sala de comer_, and while
emptying their last glass together, he has been approached by his
sailor-guests on that subject uppermost in their thoughts, and dearest
to their hearts. Asked if he be agreeable to become the father-in-law
of one, and the--Cadwallader had difficulty in finding a word for
it--_grandfather-in-law_ of the other, to both interrogatories he has
given the same answer--"Yes."
No wonder that, with bright faces and bounding step, the young officers
rush out, and up to the _azotea_, there to rejoin the senoritas.
Their tale told to the latter--who have been awaiting them in anxious
expectation--will save both a world of confusion and blushes. No need
now for _them_ to talk to "papa." His consent has been obtained--they
are aware he will keep his word.
Again the four, now formally betrothed, separate into twos, taking
opposite sides of the aerial garden.
They converse about the far future--that awaiting them at Cadiz. But
the ladies cannot overlook, or forget, some perils more proximate. The
retrospect of the day throws a shadow over the morrow. That encounter
with De Lara and Calderon cannot end without further action. Not
likely; and both aunt and niece recall it, questioning their now
affianced lovers--adjuring them to refrain from fighting.
These reply, making light of the matter, declaring confidence in their
own strength and skill, whatever be the upshot--at length, so assuring
their sweethearts, that both believe them invincible, invulnerable.
What woman who does not believe the same of him who holds her heart?
Time passes; the last moments speed silently, sweetly, in the old, old
ecstasy of all-absorbing, time-killing love.
Then the inevitable "_Adios_!" though sounding less harshly by favour of
the appended phrase--"_Hasta Cadiz_!"