Notwithstanding his comfortable quarters in the frigate's forecastle,
Harry Blew is up by early daybreak, and off from the ship before six
bells have sounded.
Ere retiring to rest, he had communicated to his patron, Crozier, a full
account of his zigzag wanderings through the streets of San Francisco,
and how he came to bring the cutter's crew to the rescue.
As neither of the young officers is on the early morning watch, but both
still abed, he does not wait their rising. For, knowing that the adage,
"First come, first served," is often true, he is anxious as soon as
possible to present himself at the office of the agent Silvestre, and
from him get directions for going on board the Chilian ship. He is
alive to the hint given him by Crozier, that there may be a chance of
his being made a mate.
As yet he does not even know the name of the vessel, but that he will
learn at the office, as also where she is tying.
His request to the lieutenant on duty for a boat to set him ashore, is
at once and willingly granted. No officer on that frigate would refuse
Harry Blew; and the dingy is placed at his service.
In this he is conveyed to the wooden pier, whose planking he treads with
heavier step, but lighter heart, than when, on the night before, he ran
along it in quest of _Crusaders_. With weightier purse too, as he
carries a hundred pound Bank of England note in the pocket of his
pea-jacket--a parting gift from the generous Crozier--besides a number
of gold pieces received from Cadwallader, as the young Welshman's share
of gratitude for the service done them.
Thus amply provided, he might proceed at once to the "Sailor's Home,"
and bring away his embargoed property.
He does not; thinking it better first to see about the berth on the
Chilian ship; and therefore he steers direct for the agent's office.
Though it is still early, by good luck, Don Tomas chances to be already
at his desk; to whom Harry hands the card given him by Crozier, at the
same time declaring the purpose for which he has presented himself.
In return, he receives from Silvestre instructions to report himself on
board the Chilian ship, _El Condor_; Don Tomas furnishing him with a
note of introduction to her captain, and pointing out the vessel--which
is visible from the door, and at no great distance off.
"Captain Lantanas is coming ashore," adds the agent; "I expect him in
the course of an hour. By waiting here, you can see him, and it will
save you boat-hire."
But Harry Blew will not wait. He remembers the old saying about
procrastination, and is determined there shall be no mishap through
negligence on his part, or niggardliness about a bit of a boat-fare. He
has made up his mind to be the _Condor's_ first mate--if he can.
Nor is it altogether ambition that prompts him to seek the office so
earnestly. A nobler sentiment inspires him--the knowledge that, in this
capacity, he may be of more service, and better capable of affording
protection, to the fair creatures whom Crozier has committed to his
charge.
The watermen of San Francisco do not ply their oars gratuitously. Even
the shabbiest of shore-boats, hired for the shortest time, exacts a
stiffish fare. It will cost Harry Blew a couple of dollars to be set
aboard the _Condor_, though she is lying scarce three cables' length
from the shore!
What cares he for that? It is nothing now.
Hailing the nearest skiff with a waterman in it, he points to the
Chilian ship, saying:
"Heave along, lad; an' put me aboard o' yonder craft--that one as shows
the three-colour bit o' bunting wi' a single star in the blue. The
sooner ye do your job, the better ye'll get paid for it."
A contract on such conditions is usually entered into with alacrity, and
with celerity carried out. The boatman beaches his tiny craft, takes in
his fare, and in less than ten minutes' time Harry Blew swarms up the
man-ropes of the Chilian ship, strides over the rail, and drops down
upon her deck.
He looks around, but sees no one--at least nothing in the shape of a
sailor. Only an old negro, with skin black as a boot, and crow-footed
all over the face, standing beside two singular creatures nearly as
human-like as himself, but covered with fox-coloured hair!
The ex-man-o'-war's man is for a time in doubt as to which of the three
he should address himself. In point of intelligence there seems not
much to choose. However, he with the black skin cuts short his
hesitation by stepping forward, and saying:
"Well, mass'r sailor-man, wha' you come for? S'pose you want see de
cappen? I'se only de cook."
"Oh, you're only the cook, are you? Well, old caboose; you've made a
correct guess about my bizness. It's the capten I do want to see."
"All right. He down in de cabin. You wait hya. I fotch 'im up less'n
no time!"
The old darkey shuffling aft, disappears down the companion-way, leaving
Harry with the two monstrous-looking creatures, whom he has now made out
to be orang-outangs.
"Well, mates!" says the sailor, addressing them in a jocular way, "what
be your opeenyun o' things in general? D'ye think the wind's goin' to
stay sou'-westerly, or shift roun' to the nor'-eastart?"
"Cro--cro--croak!"
"Oh, hang it, no. I ain't o' the croakin' sort. Ha'n't ye got nothin'
more sensible than that to say to me!"
"Kurra--kra--kra. Cro--cro--croak!"
"No; I won't do anythink o' the kind; leastways, unless there turns out
to be short commons 'board this eer craft. Then I'll croak, an' no
mistake. But I say, old boys, how 'bout the grog? Reg'lar allowance, I
hope--three tots a day?"
"Na--na--na--na--na--boof! Ta--ta--ta--fuff!"
"No! only two, ye say! Ah! that won't do for me. For ye see,
shipmates--I s'pose I shall be callin' ye so--'board the old _Crusader_,
I've been 'customed to have my rum reg'lar, three times the day; an' if
it ain't same on the _Condor_, in the which I'm 'bout to ship, then,
shiver my spars! if I don't raise sich a rumpus as--"
"Kurra--kurra--cro--cro--croak! Na--na--na--boof--ta--ta--pf--pf--
piff!"
The sailor's voice is drowned by the gibbering of the orangs, his
gesture of mock-menace, with the semi-serious look that accompanied it,
having part frightened, part infuriated them.
The fracas continues, until the darkey returns on deck followed by the
skipper; when the cook takes charge of the _quadrumana_, drawing them
off to his caboose.
Captain Lantanas, addressing himself to the sailor, asks: "_Un
marinero_?" [A seaman.]
"_Si, capitan_." [Yes, captain.]
"_Que negocio tienes V. commigo_?" [What is your business with me?]
"Well, capten," responds Harry Blew, speaking the language of the
Chilian, in a tolerably intelligent _patois_, "I've come to offer my
sarvices to you. I've brought this bit o' paper from Master Silvestre;
it'll explain things better'n I can."
The captain takes the note handed to him, and breaks open the envelope.
A smile irradiates his sallow face as he makes himself acquainted with
its contents.
"At last a sailor!" he mutters to himself; for Harry is the only one who
has yet offered. "And a good one too," thinks Captain Lantanas, bending
his eyes on the ex-man-o'-war's man, and scanning him from head to foot.
But, besides personal inspection, he has other assurance of the good
qualities of the man before him; at a late hour on the night before he
held a communication with Don Gregorio, who has recommended him. The
haciendado had reported what Crozier said, that Harry Blew was an able
seaman, thoroughly trustworthy, and competent to take charge of a ship,
either as first or second officer.
With Crozier's endorsement thus vicariously conveyed, the
ex-man-o'-war's man has no need to say a word for himself. Nor does
Captain Lantanas call for it. He only puts some professional questions,
less inquisitorially than as a matter of form.
"The Senor Silvestre advises me that you wish to serve in my ship. Can
you take a lunar?"
"Well, capten; I hev squinted through a quadrant afores now, an' can
take a sight; tho' I arn't much up to loonars. But if there's a good
chronometer aboard, I won't let a ship run very far out of her
reck'nin'."
"You can keep a log-book, I suppose?"
"I dare say I can. I've larned to write, so 'st might be read; though
my fist ain't much to be bragged about."
"That will do," rejoins the skipper, contentedly. "Now, Senor Enrique--
I see that's your name--answer me in all candour. Do you think you are
capable of acting as _piloto_?"
"By that you mean mate, I take it?"
"Yes; it is _piloto_ in Spanish."
"Well, capten; 'tain't for me to talk big o' myself. But I've been over
thirty year 'board a British man-o'-war--more'n one o' 'em--an' if I
wan't able to go mate in a merchanter, I ought to be condemned to be
cook's scullion for the rest o' my days. If your honour thinks me
worthy o' bein' made first officer o' the _Condor_, I'll answer for it
she won't stray far out o' her course while my watch be on."
"_Bueno_! Senor Enrique--B--blee. What is it?" asks the Chilian,
re-opening the note, and vainly endeavouring to pronounce the Saxon
surname.
"Blew--Harry Blew."
"Ah, Bloo--_azul, esta_?"
"No, capten. Not that sort o' blue. In Spanish, my name has a
different significance. It means, as we say o' a gale after it's blowed
past--it `blew.' When it's been a big un, we say it `blew great guns.'
Now ye understan'?"
"Yes; perfectly. Well, Senor Bloo, to come to an understanding about
the other matter. I'm willing to take you as my first officer, if you
don't object to the wages I intend offering you--fifty dollars a month,
and everything found."
"I'm agreeable to the tarms."
"_Basta_! When will it be convenient for you to enter in your duties?"
"For that matter, this minute. I only need to go ashore to get my kit.
When that's stowed, I'll be ready to tackle on to work."
"_Muy bien_! senor; you can take my boat for it. And if you see any
sailors who want to join, I authorise you to engage them at double the
usual wages. I wish to get away as soon as a crew can be shipped. But
when you come back we'll talk more about it. Call at Senor Silvestre's
office, and tell him he needn't look for me till a later hour. Say I've
some business that detains me aboard. _Hasta Luego_!"
Thus courteously concluding, the Chilian skipper returns to his cabin,
leaving the newly appointed _piloto_ free to look after his own affairs.