It is after midnight. A calm has succeeded the storm; and silence
reigns around the cove where the pirates have put in. The seabirds have
returned to their perches on the cliff, and now sit noiselessly--save an
occasional angry scream from the osprey, as a whip-poor-will, or some
other plumed plunderer of the night, flits past his place of repose,
near enough to wake the tyrant of the sea-shore, and excite his jealous
rage.
Other sounds are the dull boom of the outside breakers, and the lighter
ripple of the tidal wave washing over a strand rich in shells.
Now and then, a _manatee_, raising its bristled snout above the surf,
gives out a low prolonged wail, like the moan of some creature in mortal
agony.
But there is no human voice now. The ruffians have ended their
carousal. Their profane songs, ribald jests, and drunken cachinations,
inharmoniously mingling with the soft monotone of the sea, have ceased
to be heard. They lie astretch along the cavern floor, its hollow
aisles echoing back their snores and stertorous breathing.
Still they are not all asleep, nor all within the cavern. Two are
outside, sauntering along the shadow of the cliff. As the moon has also
gone down, it is too dark to distinguish their faces. Still, there is
light enough reflected from the luminous surface of the sea to show that
neither is in sailor garb, but the habiliments of landsmen--this the
national costume of Spanish California. On their heads are _sombreros_
of ample brim; wide trousers--_cahoneras_--flap loose around their
ankles; while over their shoulders they carry cloaks, which, by the
peculiar drape, are recognisable as Mexican _mangas_. In the obscurity
the colour of these cannot be determined, though one is scarlet, the
other sky-blue.
Apparelled as the two men are now, it would be difficult to identify
them as Gil Gomez and Jose Hernandez. For all it is they.
They are strolling about without fear, or thought of any one observing
them. Yet one is; a man, who has come out of the larger cavern just
after them, and who follows them along the cliff's base. Not openly or
boldly, as designing to join in their deliberation; but crouchingly and
by stealth, as if playing spy on them.
He is in sailor togs, wearing a loose dreadnought coat, which he buttons
on coming out of the cavern. But before closing it over his breast, the
butt of a pistol, and the handle of a knife, could be seen gleaming
there, both stuck behind a leathern waist belt.
On first stepping forth, he stands for a time with eyes fixed upon the
other two. He can see them but indistinctly, while they cannot see him
at all, his figure making no silhouette against the dark disc of the
cave's mouth. And afterwards, as he moves along the cliff, keeping
close in, its shadow effectually conceals him from their view. But
still safer is he from being observed by them, after having ensconced
himself in a cleft of rock; which he does while their backs are turned
upon him.
In the obscure niche he now occupies no light falls upon his face--not a
ray. If there did, it would disclose the countenance of Harry Blew; and
as oft before, with an expression upon it not easily understood. But no
one sees, much less makes attempt to interpret it.
Meanwhile the two saunterers come to a stop and stand conversing. It is
Gomez who is first heard saying:
"I've been thinking, _companero_, now we've got everything straight so
far, that our best plan will be to stay where we are till the other
matter's fixed."
"What other are you speaking of?"
"The marrying, of course."
"Oh! that. Well?"
"We can send on for the _padre_, and bring him here; or failing him, the
_cura_. To tell truth, I haven't the slightest idea of where we've come
ashore. We may be a goodish distance from Santiago; and to go there,
embargoed as we are, there's a possibility of our being robbed of our
pretty baggage on the route. You understand me?"
"I do!"
"Against risk of that kind, it is necessary we should take precautions.
And the first--as also the best I can think of--is to stay here till
we're spliced. One of our two Californian friends can act as a
messenger. Either, with six words I shall entrust to him, will be
certain to bring back an ecclesiastic, having full powers to perform the
flea-bite of a ceremony. Then we can march inland without fear--ay,
with flying colours; both Benedicts, our blushing brides on our arms,
and in Santiago spend a pleasant honeymoon."
"Delightful anticipation!"
"Just so. And for that very reason, we mustn't risk marring it; which
we might, by travelling as simple bachelors. So I say, let us get
married before going a step farther."
"But the others? Are they to assist at our nuptials?"
"Certainly not."
"In what way can it be avoided?"
"The simplest in the world. It's understood that we divide our plunder
the first thing in the morning. When that's done, and each has packed
up his share, I intend proposing that we separate--every one to go his
own gait."
"Will they agree to that, think you?"
"Of course they will. Why shouldn't they? It's the safest way for all,
and they'll see that. Twelve of us trooping together through the
country--to say nothing of having the women along--the story we're to
tell about shipwreck might get discredited. When that's made clear, to
our old shipmates, they'll be considerate for their own safety. Trust
me for making it clear. Of course we'll keep our Californian friends to
act as groomsmen; so that the only things wanted will be a brace of
bridesmaids."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughs Hernandez.
"And now to see about our brides. We've not yet proposed to them. We
went once to do that, and were disappointed. Not much danger of that
now."
"For all that, we may count upon a flat refusal."
"Flat or sharp, little care I. And it won't signify, one way or the
other. In three days or less I intend calling Carmen Montijo my wife.
But come on; I long to lay my hand and heart at her feet."
Saying which Gomez strides on towards the grotto, the other by his side,
like two Tarquins about to invade the sleep of virginal innocence.