Having set the _Condor's_ course, with Slush still in charge at the
helm, the second mate returns to the fore-deck, where by the
manger-board the others are again in deliberation; Gomez counselling, or
rather dictating what they are next to do.
The programme he places before them is in part what has been arranged
already--to run along coast till they discover a gap in the line of
coral reef; for it is this which causes the breakers. Further, they are
told that, when such gap be found, they will lower a boat; and having
first scuttled the barque, abandon her; then row themselves ashore.
The night is so far favourable to the execution of the scheme. It is a
clear moonlight; and running parallel to the trend of the shore, as they
are now doing, they can see the breakers distinctly, their white crests
in contrast with the dark _facade_ of cliff, which extends continuously
along the horizon's edge; here and there rising into hills, one of which
looming up on the starboard bow has the dimensions of a mountain.
The barque is now about a league's distance from land; and half-way
between are the breakers, their roar sounding ominously through the calm
quiet of the night. As they were making but little way--scarce three
knots an hour--one proposes that the boat be lowered at once, and such
traps as they intend taking put into her. In such a tranquil sea it
will tow alongside in safety.
As this will be some trouble taken off their hands in advance, the plan
is approved of, and the pinnace being selected, as the most suitable
boat for beaching.
Clustering around it, they commence operations. Two leap lightly
inside; insert the plug, ship the rudder, secure the oars and
boat-hooks, clear the life-lines, and cast off the lanyards of the
gripes; the others holding the fall-tackle in hand, to see that they
were clear for running. Then taking a proper turn they lower away.
And, soon as the boat's bottom touches water, with the two men in it,
the painter, whose loose end has been left aboard, is hauled fast,
bringing the boat abeam, where it is made fast under a set of man-ropes,
already dropped over the side.
Other movements succeed; the pirates passing to and from the forecastle,
carrying canvas bags, and bundles of clothing, with such other of their
belongings as they deem necessary for a debarkation like that intended.
A barrel of pork, another of biscuit, and a beaker of water are turned
out, and handed down into the boat; not forgetting a keg containing rum,
and several bottles of wine they have purloined, or rather taken at
will, from Captain Lantanas' locker bins.
The miscellaneous supply is not meant for a voyage, only a stock to
serve for that night, which they must needs spend upon the beach--as
also to provision them for the land journey, to be commenced in the
morning.
In silence, but with no great show of caution or stealth, are these
movements made. They who make them have but little fear of being
detected, some scarce caring if they be. Indeed, there is no one to
observe them, save those taking part. For the negro cook, after
dressing the dinner, and serving it, has gone out of the galley for
good; and, now acting as table waiter, keeps below in the cabin.
Soon everything is stowed in the pinnace, except that which is to form
its most precious freight; and again the piratical crew bring their
heads together, to deliberate about the final step; the time for taking
which is fast drawing nigh.
A thing so serious calls for calm consideration, or, at all events,
there must be a thorough understanding among them. For it is the
disposal of those they have destined as victims. How this is to be
done, nothing definite has yet been said. Even the most hardened among
them shrinks from putting it in words. Still it is tacitly understood.
The ladies are to be taken along, the others to be dealt with in a
different way. But how? that is the question, yet unasked by any, but
as well understood by all, as if it had been spoken in loudest voice.
For a time they stand silent, waiting for some one who can command the
courage to speak.
And one does this--a ruffian of unmitigated type, whose breast is not
stirred by the slightest throb of humanity. It is the second mate,
Padilla. Breaking silence, he says:
"Let us cut their throats, and have done with it!"
The horrible proposition, more so from its very laconism, despite the
auditory to whom it is addressed, does not find favourable response.
Several speak in opposition to it; Harry Blew first and loudest. Though
broken his word, and forfeited his faith, the British sailor is not so
abandoned as to contemplate murder in such cool, deliberate manner.
Some of those around him have no doubt committed it; but he does not
feel up to it. Opposing Padilla's counsel, he says:
"What need for our killin' them? For my part, I don't see any."
"And for your part, what would you do?" sneeringly retorts the second
mate.
"Give the poor devils a chance for their lives."
"How?" promptly asks Padilla.
"Why; if we set the barque's head out to sea, as the wind's off-shore,
she'd soon carry them beyond sight o' land, and we'd niver hear another
word o' 'em."
"No, no! that won't do," protest several in the same breath. "They
might get picked up, and then we'd be sure of hearing of them--may be
something more than words."
"_Carrai_!" exclaims Padilla scornfully; "that _would_ be a wise way.
Just the one to get our throats in the _garrota_. You forget that Don
Gregorio Montijo is a man of the big grandee kind. And should he ever
set foot ashore, after what we'd done to him, he'd have influence enough
to make most places--ay, the whole of the habitable globe--a trifle too
hot for us. There's an old saw, about dead men telling no tales. No
doubt most of you have heard it, and some have reason to know it true.
Take my advice, _camarados_, and let us act up to it. What's your
opinion, Senor Gomez?"
"Since you ask for it," responds Gomez, speaking for the first time on
this special matter, "my opinion is, that there's no need for any
difference among us. Mr Blew's against the spilling of blood, and so
would I, if it could be avoided. But it can't, with safety to
ourselves; at least not in the way he has suggested. To act as he
advises would be madness on our part--nay more, it might be suicide.
Still, there don't seem any necessity for a cold cutting of throats,
which has an ugly sound about it. The same with knocking on the head;
they're both too brutal. I think I know a way that will save us from
resorting to either, and, at the same time, ensure our own safety."
"What way?" demanded several voices. "Tell us!"
"One simple enough; so simple, I wonder you haven't all thought of it,
same as myself. Of course, we intend sending this craft to the bottom
of the sea. But she's not likely to go down all of a sudden; nor till
we're a good way off out of sight. We can leave the gentlemen aboard,
and let them slip quietly down along with her!"
"Why, that's just what Blew proposes," say several.
"True," returns Gomez; "but not exactly as I mean it. He'd leave them
free to go about the ship--perhaps get out of her before she sinks, on a
sofa, or hencoop, or something."
"How would _you_ do with them?" asks one, impatiently.
"Tie, before taking leave of them."
"Bah!" exclaims Padilla, a monster to whom spilling blood seems
congenial. "What's the use of being at all that bother? It's sure to
bring some. The skipper will resist, and so'll the old Don. What then?
We'll be compelled to knock them on the head all the same, or toss them
overboard. For my part, I don't see the object of making such a worry
about it; and still say, let's stop their wind at once!"
"Dash it, man!" cries Striker, hitherto only a listener, but a backer of
Harry Blew; "you 'pear to 'a been practisin' a queery plan in jobs o'
this sort. Mr Gomez hev got a better way o't, same as I've myself seed
in the Australian bush, wheres they an't so bloodthirsty. When they
stick up a chap theer, so long's he don't cut up nasty, they settle
things by splicin' him to a tree, an' leavin' him to his meditashuns.
Why can't we do the same wi' the skipper, an' the Don, an' the darkey--
supposin' any o' 'em to show reefractry?"
"That's it!" exclaims Davis, strengthening the proposal thus endorsed by
his chum, Striker. "My old pal's got the correct idea of sich things."
"Besides," continues the older of the ex-convicts, "this job seems to me
simple enuf. We want the swag, an' some may want the weemen. Well, we
can git both 'ithout the needcessity o' doin' murder!"
Striker's remonstrance sounds strange--under the circumstances,
serio-comical.
"What might you call murder?" mockingly asks Padilla. "Is there any
difference between their getting their breath stopped by drowning, or
the cutting of their throats? Not much to them, I take it; and no more
to us. If there's a distinction, it's so nice I can't see it.
_Carramba_! no!"
"Whether you see it or not," interposes Harry Blew, "there be much; and
for myself, as I've said, I object to spillin' blood, where the thing
an't absolute needcessary. True, by leavin them aboard an' tied, as Mr
Gomez suggests, they'll get drowned, for sartin; but it'll at least keep
our hands clear o' blood murder!"
"That's true!" cried several in assent. "Let's take the Australian way
of it, and tie them up!"
The assenting voices are nearly unanimous; and the eccentric compromise
is carried.
So far everything is fixed, and it but remains to arrange about the
action, and apportion to every one his part.
For this very few words suffice, the apportionment being, that the first
officer, assisted by Davis, who has some knowledge of ship-carpentry, is
to see to the scuttling of the vessel; Gomez and Hernandez to take
charge of the girls, and get them into the boat; Slush to look after the
steering; Padilla to head the party entrusted with the seizure of the
gold; while Striker, assisted by Tarry and the Frenchman, is to secure
the unfortunate men by fast binding, or, as he calls it, "sticking them
up."
The atrocious plan is complete, in all its revolting details--the hour
of execution at hand.