It was a fortunate inspiration that led the ex-haciendado to have his
gold secretly carried on board the Chilian ship; another, that
influenced him to transfer his family, and household gods, to an hotel
in the town.
It was all done in a day--that same day. Every hour, after the sailing
of the _Crusader_, had he become more anxious; for every hour brought
intelligence of some new act of outlawry in the neighbourhood,
impressing him with the insecurity, not only of his Penates, but the
lives of himself and his ladies. So long as the British ship lay in
port, it seemed a protection to him; and although this may have been but
fancy, it served somewhat to tranquillise his fears. Soon as she was
gone, he gave way to them, summoned Silvestre, with a numerous retinue
of _cargadores_, and swept the house clean of everything he intended
taking--the furniture alone being left, as part of the purchased
effects.
He has indeed reason to congratulate himself on his rapid removal, as he
finds on the following day, when visiting his old home for some trifling
purpose, and there hearing what had happened during the night.
The man in charge--a stalwart American, armed to the teeth--gives him a
full account of the nocturnal visitors. There were four, he says--
having counted them through the keyhole--inquiring for him, Don
Gregorio. They appeared greatly disappointed at not getting an
interview with him; and went off uttering adjurations in Spanish, though
having held their parley in English.
A message from the British man-of-war! And brought by men who swore in
Spanish! Strange all that, thinks Don Gregorio, knowing the _Crusader_
should then be at least a hundred leagues off at sea.
Besides, the messengers have not presented themselves at the _Parker
House_, to which the caretaker had directed them.
"What can it mean?" asks the ex-haciendado of himself.
Perhaps the sailor who is now first officer of the Chilian ship may know
something of it; and he will question him next time he goes aboard.
He has, however, little hope of being enlightened in that quarter; his
suspicions turning elsewhere. He cannot help connecting Messrs. De Lara
and Calderon with the occurrence. Crozier's letter, coupled with the
further information received from the bearer of it, has thrown such a
light on the character of these two _enhalleros_, he can believe them
capable of anything. After their attempt to rob the young officers, and
murder them as well, they would not hesitate to serve others the same;
and the demand for admission to his house may have been made by these
very men, with a couple of confederates--their design to plunder it, if
not do something worse.
Thus reflecting, he is thankful for having so unconsciously foiled
them--indeed, deeming it a Providence.
Still is he all the more solicitous to leave a land beset with such
dangers. Even in the town he does not feel safe. Robbers and murderers
walk boldly abroad through the streets; not alone, but in the company of
judges who have tried without condemning them; while lesser criminals
stand by drinking-bars, hobnobbing with the constables who either hold
them in charge, or have just released them, after a mock-hearing before
some magistrate, with eyes blind as those of Justice herself--blinded by
the gold-dust of California!
Notwithstanding all this, Don Gregorio need have no fear for his ladies.
Their sojourn at the hotel may be somewhat irksome, and uncongenial;
still they are safe. Rough-looking and boisterous as are some of their
fellow-guests, they are yet in no way rude. The most refined or
sensitive lady need not fear moving in their midst. A word or gesture
of insult to her would call forth instant chastisement.
It is not on their account he continues anxious, but because of his
unprotected treasure. Though secreted aboard the _Condor_, it is still
unsafe. Should its whereabouts get whispered abroad, there are robbers
bold enough, not only to take it from the Chilian skipper, but set fire
to his ship, himself in her, and cover their crime by burning everything
up.
Aware of all this, the ex-haciendado, with the help of friendly
Silvestre, has half-a-dozen trusty men placed aboard of her--there to
stay till a crew can be engaged. It is a costly matter, but money may
save money, and now is not the time to cavil at expenses.
As yet, not a sailor has presented himself. None seem caring to ship
"for Valparaiso and intermediate ports," even at the double wages
offered in the _Diario_. The _Condor's_ forecastle remains untenanted,
except by the six longshore men, who temporarily occupy it, without
exactly knowing why they are there; but contented to make no inquiry, so
long as they are receiving their ten dollars a day. Of crew, there is
only the captain himself, his first officer, and the cook. The orangs
do not count.
Day by day, Don Gregorio grows more impatient, and is in constant
communication with Silvestre.
"Offer higher wages," he says. "Engage sailors at any price."
The shipping-agent yields assent; inserts a second _aviso_ in the
Spanish paper, addressed to _marineros_ of all nations. Triple wages to
those who will take service on a well-appointed ship. In addition, all
the usual allowances, the best of grub and grog. Surely this should get
the _Condor_ a crew.
And at length it does. Within twenty-four hours after the advertisement
has appeared, sailors begin to show on her decks. They come singly, or
in twos and threes; and keep coming till as many as half-a-score have
presented themselves. They belong to different nationalities, speaking
several tongues--among them English, French, and Danish. But the
majority appear to be Spaniards, or Spanish-Americans--as might have
been expected from the _Condor_ being a Chilian ship.
Among them is the usual variety of facial expression; though, in one
respect, a wonderful uniformity. Scarce a man of them whose countenance
is not in some way unprepossessing--either naturally of sinister cast,
or brought to it by a career of sinful dissipation. Several of them
show signs of having been recently drinking--with eyes bleary and
bloodshot. Of strife, too, its souvenirs visible in other eyes that are
blackened, and scars upon cheeks not yet cicatrised. Some are still in
a state of inebriety, and stagger as they stray about the decks.
Under any other circumstances, such sailors would stand no chance of
getting shipped. As it is, they are accepted--not one refused. Captain
Lantanas has no choice, and knows it. Without them he is helpless, and
it would be hopeless for him to think of putting to sea. If he do not
take them, the _Candour_ may swing idly at her anchor for weeks, it
might be months.
Quick as they came aboard, he enters their names on the ship's books,
while Harry Blew assigns them their separate bunks in the forepeak.
One, a Spaniard, by name Padilla, shows credentials from some former
ship, which procure him the berth of _piloto-segundo_ (second mate).
After the ten had been taken, no more present themselves. Even the big
bounty offered does not tempt another tar from the saloons of San
Francisco. In any other seaport, it would empty every sailors'
boarding-house, to its last lodger.
And ten hands are not enough to work the good ship _Condor_.
Her captain knows it, and waits another day, hoping he may get a few
more to complete her complement; but hopes in vain, the supply seems
exhausted.
Becoming convinced of this, he determines to set sail with such crew as
he has secured. But little more remains to be done; some stores to be
shipped, provisions for the voyage, the best and freshest San Francisco
can afford. For he who authorises their inlay cares not for the cost--
only that things may be made comfortable. Don Gregorio gives
_carte-blanche_ for providing the vessel; and it is done according to
his directions.
At length everything is ready, and the _Condor_ only awaits her
passengers. Her cabin has been handsomely furnished; its best
state-room decorated to receive two ladies, fair as ever set foot on
board ship.