It is the second day after the tragedy upon the isle, and the Chilian
barque has sailed away from the Veraguan coast, out of that indentation
known upon modern maps as "Montijo Bay."
She has long since rounded Cabo Mala, and is standing in for the port of
Panama. With a full crew--most of them old and able seamen--no fear but
she will reach it now.
Crozier in command, has restored Harry Blew to his old rank of first
officer; which so far from having forfeited, he is now deemed to doubly
deserve. But still weak from his long privation, the ex-man-o'-war's
man is excused from duty, Cadwallader doing it for him.
Harry is strong enough, however, to tell the young officers what they
are all ears to hear--the story of that _Flag of Distress_. Their time
hitherto taken up attending upon their _fiancees_, they have deferred
calling for the full account, which only the English sailor can give
them.
Now having passed Cabo Mala, as if with that promontory of bad repute
all evil were left behind, they are in the mood to listen to the
narration in all its details; and for this have summoned the chief
officer to their side.
"Your honours!" he begins, "it's a twisted-up yarn, from the start to
the hour ye hove in sight; an' if ye hadn't showed yerselves just in the
nick o' time, an' ta'en the twist out o' it, hard to say how 'twould 'a
ended. No doubt, in all o' us dyin' on that desert island, an' layin'
our bones there. Thank the Lord, for our delivery--'ithout any
disparagement to what's been done by both o' you, young gentlemen. For
that He must ha' sent you, an has had a guidin' hand throughout the
whole thing, I can't help thinkin', 'specially when I look back on the
scores o' chances that seemed goin' against the right, an' still sheered
round to it after all."
"True," assents Crozier, honouring the devout faith of the sailor.
"You're quite right in ascribing it to Divine interference. Certainly,
God's hand seems to have been extended in our favour. But go on!"
"Well, to commence at the beginnin', which is when you left me at San
Francisco. As I told Master Willie, that day he comed ashore in the
dingy, I war engaged to go chief mate in the Chili barque. She war then
a ship; afterward converted as ye see, through our shortness o' hands.
"When I went aboard her, an' for sev'ral days after, I war the only
thing in the shape o' sailor she'd got. Then her captain--that poor
crazed creetur below--put advertisements in the papers, offering big
pay; the which, as I then supposed, brought eleven chaps, callin'
themselves sailors, an' shippin' as such. One o' 'em, for want o' a
better, war made second mate--his name bein' entered on the books as
Padilla. He war the last o' the three swung up, an' if ever man
desarved hangin', he did, bein' the cruellest scoundrel o' the lot.
"After we'd waited another day or two, an' no more makin' appearance,
the skipper made up his mind to sail. Then the old gentleman, along wi'
the two saynoreetas, came aboard; when we cleared an' stood out to sea.
"Afore leavin' port, I had a suspishun about the sort o' crew we'd
shipped. But soon's we are fairly afloat, it got to be somethin' worse
than suspishun; I war sartin then we'd an ugly lot to deal with. Still,
I only believed them to be bad men--an', if that war possible, worse
seamen. I expected trouble wi' them in sailin' the vessel; an' a
likelihood o' them bein' disobedient. But on the second night after
leavin' land, I found out somethin' o' a still darker stripe--that they
war neither more nor less than a gang o' piratical conspirators, an' had
a plan already laid out. A lucky chance led to me discoverin' their
infarnal design. The two we've agreed to let go off--Jack Striker an'
Bill Davis--both old birds from the convict gangs o' Australia--war
talkin' it over atween themselves, an' I chanced to overhear them. What
they sayed made everythin' clear--as it did my hair to stand on eend.
Twar a scheme to plunder the ship o' the gold-dust Don Gregorio hed got
in her; an' carry off your young ladies. Same time they war to scuttle
the vessel, an' sink her; first knockin' the old gentleman on the head,
as well as the skipper; whiles your humble sarvint an' the darkey are to
be disposed o' same sweet fashion.
"On listenin' to the dyabolikal plot, I war clear dumfoundered, an' for
a while didn't know what to do. 'Twar a case o' life an' death to some
o' us; an' for the saynoreetas, somethin' worse. At first I thort o'
telling Captain Lantanas, an' also Don Gregorio. But then I seed if I
shud, that 'twould only make death surer to all as were doomed. I
knowed the skipper to be a man o' innocent, unsuspishus nature, an'
mightn't gi'e belief to such 'trocious rascality, as bein' a thing
possible. More like he'd let out right away, an' bring on the bloody
bizness sooner than they intended it. From what Striker and Davis said,
I made out that it war to be kept back, till we should sight land near
Panyma.
"Well; after a big spell o' thinkin', I seed a sort o' way out of it--
the only one appearin' possible. 'Twar this: to purtend joinin' in wi'
the conspirators, an' put myself at thar head. I'd larnt from the talk
o' the two Sydney Ducks there war a split 'mong them, 'bout the dividin'
o' the gold-dust. I seed this would gi'e me a chance to slip in along
wi' them. So takin' advantage o' it, I broached the bizness to Striker
that same night, and got into his confidence, an' theer councils;
arterwards obtaining the influence I wanted.
"Mind, gentlemen, it took a smart show o' trickery and maneuvrin'.
'Mong other things, I had to appear cool to the cabin people throughout
all the voyage--specially them two sweet creeturs. Many's the time my
heart ached thinkin' o' yourself, Mr Crozier, as also Master Willie--
an' then o' your sweethearts, an' what might happen, if I should fail in
my plan for protectin' 'em. When they wanted to be free and friendly,
an' once began talkin' to me, I hed to answer 'em gruff an' growlin',
knowin' that eyes war on me all the while, an' ears listenin'. As to
tellin' them what was before, or givin' them the slimmest hint o' it,
that would 'a spoilt my plans, an' ruined everything. They'd a gone
straight to the old gentleman, an' then it would 'a been all up wi' us.
'Twar clear to me they all couldn't be saved, an' that Don Gregorio
himself would hev to be sacrificed, as well as the skipper an' cook. I
thought that dreadful hard; but thar war no help for't, as I'd have
enough on my hands in takin' care o' the women, without thinkin' o' the
men. As the Lord has allowed, an' thank Him for it, all ha'e been
saved!"
The speaker pauses, in the fervour of his gratitude; which his
listeners, respecting, in silence wait for him to continue the
narration. He does so:
"At last, on sightin' land, as agreed on, the day had come for the doin'
of the dark deed. It war after night when they set about it, myself
actin' as a sort o' recognised leader. I'd played my part, so's to get
control o' the rest. We first lowered a boat, putting our things into
her. Then we separated, some to get out the gold-dust, others to seize
the saynoreetas. I let Gomez look after them, for fear of bringing on
trouble too soon. Me an' Davis--who chances to be a sort o' Jack
carpenter--were to do the scuttlin'; an', for that purpose, went down
into the hold. There I proposed to him to give the doomed ones a chance
for their lives, by lettin' the barque float a bit longer. Though he be
a convict, he warn't nigh so bad as the rest.
"He consented to my proposal, an' we returned on deck 'ithout tapping
the barque's bottom-timbers.
"Soon's I had my head over the hatch coamin', I seed them all below in
the boat, the girls along wi' them. I didn't know what they'd done to
the Don an' skipper I had my fears about 'em, thinkin' they might ha'e
been murdered, as Padilla had proposed. But I darn't go back to the
cabin then, lest they might shove off, an' leave us in the lurch: as
some war threatenin' to do, more than one wantin' it, I know. If they'd
done that--well, it's no use sayin' what might ha' been the upshot.
Tharfore, I had to hurry down into the boat. Then, we rowed away;
leavin' the barque just as she'd been the whole o' that day.
"As we pulled shoreward, we could see her standing off, all sails set--
same as tho' the crew wor abroad o' her workin' 'em."
"But her ensign reversed?" asks Cadwallader. "She was carrying it so,
when we came across her. How came that, Harry?"
"Ah! the bit o' buntin' upside-down! I did that myself in the dark;
thinkin' it might get them a better chance o' bein' picked up. I'd just
time to do it afore droppin' into the boat."
"And you did the very thing!" exclaims Crozier. "I see God's hand in
that surely! But for the distress signal, the _Crusader_ would have
kept on without giving chase; and--. But, proceed! Tell us what
happened afterwards."
"Well; we landed in the island, not knowin' it to be a island. An'
theer's another o' the chances, showin' we've been took care o' by the
little cherub as sits up aloft. If it hed been the mainland--well, I
needn't tell ye, things would now be different. After landin', we
stayed all night on the shore; the men sleeping in the biggest o' the
caves, while the ladies occupied a smaller one. I took care 'bout that
separation myself, detarmined they shouldn't come to no harm.
"That night theer war a thing happened which I dar say they've told you;
an' twar from them I afterwards larned that Gomez an' Hernandez war no
other than the two chaps you'd trouble wi' at San Francisco. They went
into the cave, an' said some insultin' things to the saynoreetas; I
warn't 'far off, an' would 'a made short work wi' them, hed it goed
farther than talk.
"Well; up at a early hour next mornin', we found the boat had drifted
off seaward, an' got bilged on the breakers. But supposin' we shouldn't
want her any more, nobody thought anythin' about it. Then comed the
dividin' o' the gold-dust, an' after it the great questyun--leastwise,
so far as I war consarned--as to who should take away the girls. I'd
been waitin' for this, an' for the settlin' o't I war ready to do or
die. Gomez an' Hernandez war the two who laid claim to 'em--as I
knowed, an' expected they would. Pertendin' a likin' for Miss Carmen
myself, an' puttin' Davis up to what I wanted 'bout the tother, we also
put in our claim. It ended in Gomez an' me goin' in for a fight; which
must 'a tarminated in the death o' one or other o' us. I hed no dread
o' dyin'; only from the fear o' its leavin' the saynoreetas unprotected.
But thar war no help for't, an' I agreed to the duel, which war to be
fought first wi' pistols, an' finished up, if need be, wi' the steel.
"Everythin' settled, we war 'bout settin' to, when one o' the fellows--
who'd gone up the cliff to take a look ahead--just then sung out, that
we'd landed on a island. Recallin' the lost boat, we knew that meant a
dreadful danger. In coorse it stopped the fight, an' we all rushed up
to the cliff.
"When we saw how things stood, there war no more talk o' quarrellin'.
The piratical scoundrels war scared nigh out o' thar senses; an' would
'a been glad to get back aboard the craft they'd come out o', the which
all, 'ceptin' Davis an' myself, supposed to be at the bottom o' the sea.
"After that, 'twar all safe, as far as concarned the saynoreetas. To
them as wanted 'em so bad, they war but a second thought, in the face of
starvation; which soon tamed the wolves down, an' kep 'em so till the
last o' the chapter.
"Now, young gentlemen; ye know how Harry Blew hev behaved, an' can judge
for yourselves, whether he's kep the word he gi'ed you 'fore leavin' San
Francisco."
"Behaved nobly, grandly!" cries Crozier. "Kept your word like a man:
like a true British sailor! Come to my arms--to my heart, Harry! And
forgive the suspicions we had, not being able to help them. Here, Will!
take him to yours, and show him how grateful we both are, to the man who
has done more for us than saving our lives."
"Bless you, Blew! God bless you!" exclaims Cadwallader, promptly
responding to the appeal; and holding Harry in a hug that threatens to
crush in his ribs.
The affecting scene is followed by an interval of profound silence;
broken by the voice of Grummet, who, at the wheel, is steering straight
into the port of Panama, now in sight.
"Mr Crozier!" calls out the old coxswain, "do ye see that craft--the
one riding at anchor out yonder in the roadstead?"
All three turn their eyes in the direction indicated; soon as they have
done so, together exclaiming:
"_The Crusader_!"
The last incident of our tale takes place at Cadiz, in a grand cathedral
church; before the altar of which stand two English naval officers, and
alongside each a beautiful Spanish damsel, soon to be his wedded wife.
It scarce needs to tell that the bridegrooms are Edward Crozier and
Willie Cadwallader--both now lieutenants. Nor need we say who are the
brides; since they are to be given away by Don Gregorio Montijo.
As little necessary to speak of the ceremonial splendour of that double
wedding--long time the _novedad_ of Cadiz.
Enough to say that present at it are all the wealth and fashion of the
old Andalusian city, with foreign consuls, and the commanders of
warships in the port: conspicuous amongst these, Captain Bracebridge,
and the officers of Her Britannic Majesty's frigate _Crusader_.
Also two other men of the sea--of its merchant service; to hear of whose
presence there will, no doubt, make the reader happy, as it does both
the brides and the bridegrooms to see them. They belong to a ship lying
in the harbour, carrying polacca-masts, on her stern lettered "El
Condor;" one of the two being her captain, called Lantanas; the other
her chief officer, by name Blew.
God has been just and good to the gentle Chilian skipper, having long
since lifted from his mind the cloud that temporarily obscured it. He
now knows all, and above all, Harry Blew in his true colours; and,
though on the _Condor's_ deck they are still captain and mate, when
below by themselves in her cabin, all distinction of rank disappears,
and they are affectionate friends--almost as brothers.
In the prosperous trading-craft _Condor_, re-converted into her original
shape of ship--regularly voyaging between Valparaiso and Cadiz,
exchanging the gold and silver of Chili for the silks and sweet wines of
Spain--but few would recognise a barque once chased over the South Sea,
believed to be a spectre; and, it is to be hoped, no one will ever again
see her sailing under a _Flag of Distress_.