Harry Blew stands aghast--his hair on end, the blood coursing chill
through his veins.
No wonder, after listening to such revelations! A plot diabolical--a
scheme of atrocity unparalleled--comprising three horrible crimes:
robbery, the abduction of women, and the murder of men; and among the
last, himself.
Now knows he the cause of the crew's insubordination; too clearly
comprehends it. Three hundred thousand dollars of gold-dust stowed in
the cabin-lockers!
News to him; for Captain Lantanas had not made him acquainted with the
fact--the treasure having been shipped before his coming aboard.
Indeed, on that same night when he went after Silvestre; for at the very
time he was knocking at the ship-agent's office-door, Don Tomas, with a
trusty waterman, was engaged in putting it aboard the Chilian ship.
An unfortunate arrangement, after all. And now too certain of ending
disastrously, not only for Don Gregorio, but those dear to him, with
others less interested, yet linked to his fate.
Though the ex-man-o'-war's man is neither doubtful nor incredulous of
what he has just heard, it is some time before his mind can grasp all
the details. So filled is he with astonishment, it is natural his
thoughts should be confused, and himself excited.
But soon he reflects calmly; and revolving everything over, perceives
clearly enough what are the crimes to be committed, with the motives for
committing them. There can be no ambiguity about the nature of the
nefarious conspiracy. It has all been hatched, and pre-arranged, on
shore; and the scoundrels have come aboard specially for its execution.
The four Spaniards--or Californians, as he believes them to be--must
have had knowledge of the treasure being shipped, and, in their plan to
appropriate it, have engaged the others to assist them. Striker's talk
has told this; while revealing also the still more fiendish designs of
abduction and murder.
The prospect is appalling; and as he reflects upon it, Harry Blew feels
his heart sink within him--strong though that heart be. For a dread
fate is impending over himself, as well as those he has promised to
protect.
How it is to be averted! How he is to save Carmen Montijo and Inez
Alvarez! How save himself?
These questions come crowding together, and repeat themselves over and
over; but without suggesting answer. He cannot think of one that is
satisfactory; he sees no chance of escape. The crew are all in the
plot--every man of them--either as principals, or engaged assistants.
The conversation of the two convicts has told this. The second mate
same as the rest; which to him, Harry Blew, causes no surprise. He had
already made up his mind about Padilla; observing his sympathy with
those who were showing insubordination. He had also noticed that
whatever was up among them, Gil Gomez was the directing spirit;
dominating Padilla, notwithstanding the latter's claim to superior
authority as one of the ship's officers; while Velarde and Hernandez
seemed also to be controlled by him. The last, Harry Blew has
discovered to be a landsman, with no sea-experience whatever; when found
out, excusing himself on the plea that he wished to work his passage to
Panama. The position of the other seven is understood by what Striker
said. All are equal in the scheme of pillage and murder--though not to
have equal reward.
Bringing them one after another before his mind; recalling his
experience of them--which, though short, has given him some knowledge of
their character--the _Condor's_ first officer cannot think of one likely
to take sides with him. They are all men of iniquity; and in defending
the innocent he will have to stand alone. For it will amount to almost
that, with no other help than Captain Lantanas, Don Gregorio, and the
cook; the first, a slight slender man, with just strength enough to
handle a telescope; the second, aged, and something of an invalid; the
third, for fighting purposes, scarce worth thinking of. His fidelity
might be depended upon; but he is also an oldish man, and would count
for little in a conflict, with such desperadoes as those who design
making themselves masters of the ship.
All these points present themselves to the mind of the first mate
clearly, impressively.
A thought of telling Captain Lantanas what he has discovered, and which
at first naturally occurred to him, he no longer entertains. The
trusting Chilian skipper would scarce give credit to such an atrocious
scheme. And if he did, in all likelihood it would result in his taking
some rash step, which would but quicken their action, and bring sooner
on the fatal catastrophe.
No; 'twill never do to make him acquainted with the danger, great as it
is.
Nor yet should Don Gregorio know of it. The terrible secret must be
kept from both, and carefully. Either of them aware of it, and in an
hour after, all might be over--the tragedy enacted, and its victims
consigned to the sea--himself, Harry Blew, being one of them!
Still crouching under the sail, he trembles, as in fancy he conjures up
a fearful scene; vividly, as though the reality were before his eyes.
In the midst of the open ocean, or close to land, the tragedy to be
enacted will be all the same. The girls seized; the captain, Don
Gregorio, the cook, and himself, shot down, or poniarded; after that,
the gold dragged out of the lockers; the vessel scuttled, and sunk; a
boat alone left to carry the pirates ashore, with their spoils and
captives!
Contemplating such a scene--even though only in imagination--it is not
strange that the _Condor's_ first officer feels a shivering throughout
his frame. He feels it in every fibre. And reflection fails to give
relief; since it suggests to him no plan for saving himself. On the
contrary, the more he dwells on it, the more is he sensible of the
danger--sees it in all its stark-naked reality. Against such odds a
conflict would be hopeless. It could only end in death to all who have
been singled out, himself perhaps the first.
For a time he stands in silent cogitation, with despair almost
paralysing his heart. He is unable to think steadily, or clearly.
Doubtful, unfeasible schemes shape themselves in his mind; idle thoughts
flit across his brain; all the while wild tumultuous emotions coursing
through his soul.
At length, and after prolonged reflection, he seems to have made a
resolve. As his countenance is in shadow, its expression cannot be
seen; but, judging by the words that are muttered by his lips, it is one
which should be unworthy of a British sailor--in short, that of a
_traitor_.
For his soliloquy seems to show that he has yielded to craven fear--
intends surrendering up the sacred trust reposed in him, and along with
it his honour!
The words are:
"I must cast my lot in along wi' them. It's the only chance; an' for
the savin' o' my own life! _I'll do that Lord help me, I'll do it_!"