The _Condor's_ cabin is a snug little saloon, such as are often found on
trading-vessels, not necessarily for passengers, but where the skipper
has an eye to his own comforts, with tastes that require gratification.
Those of Captain Lantanas are refined, beyond the common run of men who
follow his profession--usually rough sea dogs--caring little for aught
else save their grub and grog.
That the Chilian skipper is not of this class is proved by the
appearance of his "cuddy," which is neatly, if not luxuriously,
furnished, and prettily decorated. In addition to the instruments that
appertain to his calling--telescope, aneroid barometer, sextant, and
compass, all placed conspicuously in racks--there is a bookcase of
ornamental wood, filled with well-bound volumes; and several squares of
looking-glass inlaid between the doors that lead to the four little
staterooms--two on each side. There are two settees, with hair-cloth
cushions, and lockers underneath the same, in which Don Gregorio's
gold-dust is stowed.
Centrally stands a table, eight by six, mahogany, with massive carved
legs, and feet firmly fixed to the floor. It is set lengthwise, fore
and aft, a stout hair-cloth chair at top, another at bottom, and one at
each side--all, like the table, stanchioned to the timbers of the
half-deck.
Above a rack, with its array of decanters and glasses; and in the
centre, overhead, a swing-lamp, lacquered brass--so constructed as to
throw a brilliant glare on the surface of the table, while giving light
more subdued to all other parts of the little cabin.
To-night its rays are reflected with more than ordinary sparkle. For
the table beneath is spread with the best plate and glassware Captain
Lantanas can set forth. And in the dishes now on it are the most
savoury viands the _Condor's_ cook can produce. While in bottles and
decanters are wines of best _bouquet_ and choicest vintage.
Around are seated the four guests; the Captain, as host, at the head;
Don Gregorio, his _vis-a-vis_, at the foot; the ladies at opposite
sides--right and left.
As the barque is going before a gentle breeze, without the slightest
roll, or pitch, there is no need for guards upon the table. It shows
only the spread of snow-white damask, the shining silver plate, the
steel of Sheffield, the ware of Sevres or Worcester, with the usual
array of cut-glasses and decanters. In the centre an epergne,
containing fruits, and some flowers, which, despite exposure to the
saline breeze, Captain Lantanas has nursed into blooming. But the
fruits seem flowers of themselves, having come from California, famed
for the products of Pomona. There are peaches, the native growth of San
Franciscan gardens, with plums and nectarines; melons and grapes from
Los Angelos, further south; with the oranges, plantains, and pine-apples
of San Diego. And, alongside these productions of the tropical and
sub-tropical clime, are Newtown pippins, that have been imported into
California from the far Eastern States, mellowed by a sea voyage of
several thousand miles, around the stormy headland of Cape Horn.
The savoury meats tasted, eaten, and removed, the dessert, with its
adjuncts, has been brought upon the table--this including wines of
varied sorts. Although not greatly given to drink, the Chilian skipper
enjoys his glass; and on this occasion takes half-a-dozen--it may be
more. He is desirous of doing honour to his distinguished guests, and
making the entertainment a merry one.
And his amiable effort has success.
In addition to having seen much of the world, he is by birth and
education a gentleman. Although nothing more than the skipper of a
merchant-ship--a South Sea trader at that--as already known, he is not
one of the rude swaggering sort; but a gentle, kind-hearted creature, as
well, if not better, befitted for the boudoir of a lady, than to stir
about among tarred ropes, or face conflicting storm.
So kind and good has he shown himself, that his two fair passengers, in
the short companionship of less than a month, have grown to regard him
with affection; while Don Gregorio looks upon him in the light of a
faithful friend. All three feel sorry they are so soon to part company
with him. It is the only regret that casts a shadow over their spirits,
as they sit conversing around the table so richly furnished for their
gratification.
Eating fragrant fruits, and sipping sweet wines, for the moment they
forget all about the hour of parting; the easier, as they listen to the
tales which he tells to entertain them. He relates strange adventures
he has had, on and around the shores of the great South Sea.
He has had encounters with the fierce Figian; the savage New Caledonian;
both addicted to the horrid habit of anthropophagy. He has been a
spectator to the voluptuous dances of Samoa, and looked upon the
daughters of Otaheite, Owyhee, whose whole life is love.
With stories of the two extremes--symbols of man's supreme happiness,
and his most abject misery--grim cannibals and gay odalisques--he amuses
his guests, long detaining them at the table.
Enthralled by his narration--naive, truthful, in correspondence with the
character of the man--all three listen attentively. The senoritas are
charmed, and, strange to say, more with his accounts of Figi and New
Caledonia, than those relating to Otaheite and Hawaii. For to the
last-named group of islands have gone Edward Crozier and Willie
Cadwallader. There these may meet some of the brown-skinned _bayaderes_
Captain Lantanas so enthusiastically describes--meet, dance with, and
admire them!
But the jealous fancies thus conjured up are fleeting in the shadows of
summer clouds; and, soon passing, give place to pleasanter thoughts.
Now that land is near, and a seaport soon to be reached, the young
ladies are this night unusually elated; and, listening to the vivid
description of South Sea scenes, they reflect less sadly and less
bitterly on the supposed slight received at the hands of their lovers.
In return, Don Gregorio imparts to the Chilian skipper some confidences
hitherto withheld. He is even so far admitted into the family intimacy
as to be told how both the senoritas are soon to become brides. To
which is added an invitation, that should he ever carry the _Condor_ to
Cadiz, he will not only visit them, but make their house his home.
Several hours are passed in this pleasant way; interspersed with song
and music--for both Carmen and Inez can sing well, and accompany their
singing with the guitar.
At length the ladies retire to their state-room, not to stay, but to
robe themselves, with the design of taking a turn in the open air. The
smooth motion of the ship, with the soft moonlight streaming through the
cabin windows, tempts them to spend half-an-hour on deck, before going
to rest for the night; and on deck go they.
Lantanas and the ex-haciendado remain seated at the table. Warmed by
the wine--of which both have partaken pretty freely--the Chilian
continues to pour his experiences into the ears of his passenger; while
the latter listens with unflagging interest.
Supping choice _canario_, his favourite tipple, the former takes no note
of aught passing around, nor thinks of what may be doing on the
_Condor's_ deck. All through the evening he has either forgotten or
neglected the duties appertaining to him as her commanding officer. So
much, that he fails to notice a rotatory motion of the cabin, with the
table on which the decanters stand; or, if observing, attributes it to
the wine having disturbed the equilibrium of his brain.
But the cabin _does_ revolve, the table with it, to the extent of a
three-quarter circle. Gradually is the movement being made--gently,
from the sea being calm--silently--with no voice raised in command--no
piping of boatswain's whistle--no song of sailors as they brace round
the yards, or board tacks and sheets!--not a sign to tell Captain
Lantanas has been set upon a course, astray, and likely to lead to her
destruction.