No common pirates then, no mere crew of mutinous sailors, have carried
off Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez. It has been done by Francisco de
Lara and Faustino Calderon, if or although there is no evidence of the
latter having been aboard the barque, it is deducible, and not even
doubtful. For a scheme such as that, the confederates were not likely
to have parted.
The young officers have returned to the quarterdeck, and there stand
gazing in one another's faces; on both an expression of anguish, which
the new discovery has intensified. It was painful enough to think of
their betrothed sweethearts being the sport of rough robbers; but to
picture them in the power of De Lara and Calderon--knowing what they do
of these men--is agony itself.
"Yes; it's all clear," says Crozier. "No idea of getting gold has
brought the thing about. That may have influenced the others who
assisted them; but with them the motive was different--I see it now."
"Do you know, Ned, I half suspected it from the first. You remember
what I said as we were leaving San Francisco. After what happened
between us and the gamblers, I had my fears about our girls being left
in the same place with them. Still, who'd have thought of their
following them aboard ship? Above all, with Blew there, and after his
promise to protect them! You remember him saying, he would lay down his
life for theirs?"
"He swore it--to me he swore it. Oh! if ever I set eyes on him again,
I'll make him suffer for that broken oath!"
"What do you propose doing, after we reach Panama? If we find the
frigate there, we'll be obliged to join her."
"Obliged! there's no obligation to bind a man situated as I--reckless as
this misery makes me. Unless Captain Bracebridge consents to assist us
in the search, I'll go alone."
"Not alone. There's one will be with you."
"I know it, Will. Of course, I count upon you. What I mean is, if
Bracebridge won't help us with the frigate. I'll throw up my
commission, charter a vessel myself, engage a crew, and search every
inch of the American coast, till I find where they've put in."
"What a pity we can't tell the place! They must have been near land to
have taken to an open boat."
"In sight of--close to it, I've been questioning Don Gregorio. He knows
that much and but little beside. The poor gentleman is almost as crazed
as the skipper. I wonder he's not more. He says they had sighted land
that very morning, the first they saw since leaving California. The
captain told them they would be in Panama in about two days after. As
the boat was being rowed away, Don Gregorio saw a coast-line through the
cabin windows, and not far-off. He saw their boat too, and they
appeared making straight for it. Of course they--. That's all I can
get out of the poor old gentleman, at present."
"The negro? Can he tell no better story?"
"I've questioned him too. He is equally sure of their having been close
in. What point, he has no idea, any more than the orangs. However, he
states a particular fact, which is more satisfactory. A short while
before they seized hold of him, he was looking over the side, and saw a
strangely shaped hill--a mountain. He describes it as having two tops.
The moon was between them, the reason for his taking notice of it. That
double-headed hill may yet stand us in stead."
"How unfortunate the skipper losing his senses! If he'd have kept them,
he could have told us where he was at the time the barque was abandoned.
It's enough to make one think the very Fates are against us. By the
way, we've never thought of looking at the log-book. That ought to
throw some light on the locality."
"It ought; and doubtless would, if we only had it. You're mistaken in
saying we never thought of it. I have; and been searching for it
everywhere. But it's gone; and what's become of it, I know not. They
may have thrown it overboard before forsaking the ship--possibly to blot
out all traces. Still, it's odd too, De Lara leaving these letters
behind!"
"And the barque under all sail."
"Well, I take it, they were hurried, and of course expected she'd soon
go to the bottom. Strange she didn't. No doubt she's met only smooth
weather till we came aboard her."
"I wonder where her log-book can be?"
"Not more than I. The old darkey says it used to lie on a little shelf
at the turning of the cabin-stair. I've looked there, but no log-book.
As you say, it's enough to make one believe the Fates were against us.
If so, we may never reach Panama, much less live to--"
"See," cries Cadwallader, interrupting the despairing speech. "Those
brutes! what's that they're knocking about? By Jove! I believe it's
the very thing we're speaking of!"
The brutes are the Myas monkeys, that, away in the ship's waist, are
tossing something between them; apparently a large book bound in rough
red leather. They have mutilated the binding, and, with teeth and
claws, are tearing out the leaves, as they strive to take it from one
another.
"It is--it must be the log-book!" cries Crozier, as both rush off to
rescue it from the clutch of the orangs.
They succeed; but not without difficulty, and a free handling of
handspikes--almost braining the apes before they consent to relinquish
it.
It is at length recovered, though in a ruinous condition; fortunately,
however, with the written leaves untorn. Upon the last of these is an
entry, evidently the latest made:
"Latitude 7 degrees 20 minutes North; Longitude 82 degrees 12 minutes
West. Light breeze."
"Good!" exclaims Crozier, rushing back to the quarterdeck, and bending
over the chart. "With this, and the double-headed hill, we may get upon
the track of the despoilers. Just when we were despairing! Will, old
boy; there's something in this. I have a presentiment that things are
taking a turn, and the _Fates will yet be or us_."
"God grant they may!"
"Ah?" sighs Crozier: "if we had but ten men aboard this barque--or even
six--I'd never think of going on to Panama, but steer straight for the
island of Coiba."
"Why the island of Coiba?" wonderingly asks Cadwallader.
"Because it must have been in sight when this entry was made--either it
or Hicaron, which lies on its sou'west side. Look at this chart; there
they are!"
The midshipman bends over the map, and scans it.
"You're right, Ned. They must have seen one or other of those islands,
when the Chilian skipper made his last observation."
"Just so. And with a light breeze she couldn't have made much way
after. Both the cook and Don Gregorio say it was that. Oh! for ten
good hands. A thousand pounds apiece for ten stout, trusty fellows!
What a pity in that squall the cutter's crew weren't left along with
us."
"Never fear, Ned. We'll get them again, or as good. Old Bracebridge
won't fail us, I'm sure. He's a dear old soul, and when he hears the
tale we've to tell, it'll be all right. If he can't himself come with
the frigate, he'll allow us men to man this barque; enough to make short
work with her late crew, if we can once stand face to face with them. I
only wish we were in Panama."
"I'd rather we were off Coiba; or on shore wherever the ruffians have
landed."
"Not as we now are--three against twelve!"
"I don't care for that. I'd give ten thousand pounds to be in their
midst--even alone."
"Ned, you'll never be there alone; wherever you go, I go with you. We
have a common cause, and shall stand or fall together."
"That we shall. God bless you, Will Cadwallader! I feel you're worthy
of the friendship--the trust I've placed in you. And now, let's talk no
more about it; but bend on all the sail we can, and get to Panama.
After that, we'll steer for the island of Coiba. We're so far
fortunate, in having this westerly wind," he continues, in a more
cheerful tone. "If it keep in the same quarter, we'll soon come in
sight of land. And if this Chilian chart may be depended on, that
should be a promontory on the west side of Panama Bay. I hope the
chart's a true one; for Punta Malo, an its name imports, isn't a nice
place to make mistakes about. By running too close to it with the wind
in this quarter--"
"_Steamer to norrard_!" cries a rough voice, interrupting. It is
Grummet's.
The young officers, turning with a start, see the same.
Crozier, laying hold of a telescope, raises it to his eye, while he
holds it there, saying:
"You're right, cox: it is a steamer. And standing this way! She'll run
right across our bows. Up helm, and set the barque's head on for her!"
The coxswain obeys; and with a few turns of the wheel brings the
_Condor's_ head round, till she is right to meet the steamer. The
officers, with the negro assisting, loose tacks and sheets, trimming her
sails for the changed course.
Soon the two vessels, going in almost opposite directions, lessen the
distance between. And as they mutually make approach, each speculates
on the character of the other. They on board the barque have little
difficulty in determining that of the steamer. At a glance they see she
is not a warship; but a passenger packet. And as there are no others in
that part of the Pacific, she can be only one of the "liners" late
established between San Francisco and Panama; coming down from the
former port, her destination the latter.
Not so easy for those aboard the steamship to make out the manner of the
odd-looking craft that has turned up in their track, and is sailing
straight towards them. They see a barque, polacca-masted, with some
sails set, and others hanging in shreds from her yards.
This of itself would be enough to excite curiosity. But there is
something besides; a flag reversed flying at her mainmast-head--the flag
of Chili! For the distress signal has not been taken down. And why it
was ever run up, or by whom, none of those now in the barque could tell.
At present it serves _their_ purpose well, for, responding to it, the
commander of the steam packet orders her engines to slow, and then cease
action; till the huge leviathan, late running at the rate of twelve
knots an hour, gradually lessens speed, and at length lies motionless
upon the water.
Simultaneously the barque is "hove to," and she lies at less than a
cable's length from the steamer.
From the latter the hail is heard first:
"Barque ahoy! What barque is that?"
"The _Condor_--Valparaiso. In distress."
"Send a boat aboard!"
"Not strength to man it."
"Wait, then! We'll board you."
In less than five minutes' time one of the quarter boats of the liner is
lowered down, and a crew leaps into it.
Pushing off from her side, it soon touches that of the vessel in
distress.
But not for its crew to board her. Crozier has already traced out his
course of action. Slipping down into the steamer's boat, he makes
request to be rowed to the ship; which is done without questioning. The
uniform he wears entitles him to respect.
Stepping aboard the steamship, he sees that she is what he has taken her
for: a line-packet from San Francisco, bound for Panama. She is crowded
with passengers; at least a thousand seen upon her decks. They are of
all qualities and kinds; all colours and nationalities; most of them
Californian gold-diggers returning to their homes; some successful and
cheerful; others downcast and disappointed.
He is not long in telling his tale; first to the commander of the
steamer and his officers; then to the passengers.
For to these last he particularly addresses himself, in an appeal--a
call for volunteers--not alone to assist in navigating the barque, but
to proceed with him in pursuit of the scoundrels who cast her away.
He makes known his position, with his power to compensate them for the
service sought; both endorsed by the commander of the steamship, who by
good luck is acquainted with, and can answer for, his credentials.
Nothing of this is needed; nor yet the promise of a money reward. Among
these stalwart men are many who are heroes--true Paladins, despite their
somewhat threadbare habiliments. And amidst their soiled rags shine
pistols and knives, ready to be drawn for the right.
After hearing the young officer's tale, without listening farther,
twenty of them spring forward responsive to his call. Not for the
reward offered, but in the cause of humanity and right. He would enlist
twice or thrice the number, but deeming twenty enough, with these he
returns to the _Condor_.
Then the two vessels part company, the steamer continuing on for Panama;
while the barque, now better manned, and with more sail set, is steered
for the point where the line of Latitude 7 degrees 20 minutes North
intersects that of Longitude 82 degrees 12 minutes West.