DON LAZARILLO LEAVES US.
I went out, closing the door behind me, and called to Butler through
the skylight to send the negro boy to me. The lad arrived, and I bade
him prepare a tray of refreshments for Miss Noble.
"How does the poor lady do, sir?" said Trapp, who sat in a chair
looking on while I got upon the table and called.
"She is sound asleep," said I. "So much the better. You can go forward
and get your supper. I'll keep a look-out here for the present."
He went away, and presently the boy Tom arrived with the tray, on which
he had heaped some cold ham, fruit, jelly from a bottle, and so forth.
I poured some wine into a tumbler, and softly entering the lady's berth
placed the tray beside her on the deck, where, should the schooner
begin to frisk, it would slide without capsizing. I supposed that all
this while Don Lazarillo was in his own cabin gnawing, as his trick
was, upon his finger-ends while he reflected upon the proposals he was
presently to submit. My thoughts went from him to his dead friend, and
I stepped to the berth where the body lay to look at it.
On opening the door I beheld Don Lazarillo on his knees at the side
of the bunk in which reposed the body of Don Christoval. His hands
were clasped, his eyes were upturned, and, though his accents were
inaudible outside the door, he prayed with so much fervor as to be for
some moments insensible of my presence. Then bringing his flashing eyes
from the upper deck he directed them at me, made the sign of the cross
upon his breast, rose to his feet, made the sign of the cross upon the
face of the dead body, on whose breast he had laid a crucifix, and then
looked at me.
I went to the side of the bunk and stood for a few moments gazing at
the pale, still, serene, most handsome face of the dead.
"When ees he to bury?" said Don Lazarillo.
"To-night," said I.
"He is Catolique," he exclaimed.
"We shall have to cast him into the sea without ceremony, I fear," said
I, "unless you will say some prayers over him."
He seemed to understand me, for he nodded eagerly, and then, as if to
an afterthought, made me a very low, humble bow of thanks. Pointing to
my fingers, then to the chain of my watch, and then to the body of the
Spaniard, I said, "Will you see to his property?"
He pulled open a drawer and motioned me to observe some objects wrapped
in a silk pocket-handkerchief. On this I looked again at the body,
and now saw that the one or two rings and other jewelry which Don
Christoval had worn were removed. I walked out of the berth, leaving
Don Lazarillo to proceed with his prayers, earnestly hoping, however,
that he would be ready with his proposals by six o'clock, and that they
would be practicable and consistent with my own wishes; because if he
made no sign I should be at a loss, since it was certain that the crew
would not suffer me to execute my threat to carry him to England while
they remained on board; and how to deal with _them_ was a problem I
should not very well be able to solve until I had dealt with _him_.
I told Tom to procure me a cup of chocolate from Mariana. I then took
a cigar from a locker in which were many boxes of cigars, and, seating
myself in an arm-chair, smoked and ruminated on the tragic incidents
of the day. Shortly before six I peeped into Miss Noble's room. She
still slept soundly, exactly in the posture in which I had left her.
This I did not think wonderful, since, for all I knew, she might not
have slept a wink while she had been aboard the schooner, and nature,
utterly exhausted, had claimed at last the heavy arrears owing to her.
I listened: her breathing was perfectly placid; her bosom rose and
fell gently and regularly. I touched her hand and found it warm. The
refreshments were upon the deck untouched, as I had placed them.
As I closed the door upon the sleeping girl, Don Lazarillo emerged from
the cabin in which his friend's remains lay. There was a scowl upon
his face that darkened his cheeks like a deeper dye of complexion. I
watched him out of the corners of my eyes, saying to myself, "This man
is a Spaniard; I have used strong words to him; he would think nothing
of serving me as Miss Noble served his friend." He drew a paper cigar
from a pocket case, lighted it, and sat down, pointing to the little
clock in the skylight as he did so, as though he would say, "You see I
am punctual." And, in truth, it was exactly six o'clock.
He broke the silence by making me understand that he wished for
Mariana. The sailors were assembled at the skylight gazing down
impatiently, and I bade one of them tell the cook to lay aft, and for
Butler and two others to join us below.
"But come quietly," said I, "and make no noise when you're here,
for Miss Noble is asleep. One of you must remain on deck to keep a
look-out."
This fell to George South, and Andrew Trapp was at the helm. Butler,
Scott, and Tubb came below, and they were hastily followed by Mariana.
The conversation (as translated by the cook, though it is needless,
perhaps, to say that my version is somewhat more intelligible than the
original as it appeared in Mariana's speech) proceeded thus:
"Well, Don Lazarillo," said I, "you have had plenty of time to
consider. What now do you wish to say?"
"La Casandra is my property," he replied; "she is owned by me, and I
placed her at the disposal of Don Christoval del Padron. You talk of
carrying her to England. I do not wish that she should go to England."
"It is my business to restore the young lady to her friends," said I;
"and since this schooner carried her off from them, most assuredly she
will have to carry her back to them."
"But what is to become of my schooner when you have her in England?"
"I do not know, and I do not care," said I. "Stop! I will tell you
this: I shall hand her over to the shipping authorities at the port at
which we arrive. I will name you as her owner. You can claim her, if
you will, but I shall be compelled to tell the story of this adventure,
and to explain the part you took in it."
"What's all this got to do with paying of us?" growled Butler.
Don Lazarillo sat scowling at me.
"You are quite at liberty," I continued, "to remain on board your
own schooner; but in that case you return with us to England, where
certainly my immediate duty will be to inform against you."
He snarled a malediction.
"What about our money? Ask him that," cried Scott to Mariana.
"I will send you and the lady," said Don Lazarillo, "to the first
passing ship that is proceeding to England, and these sailors will
continue the voyage with me to Cuba."
"Who's going to navigate the vessel?" said Tubb.
"A passing ship will help us to a lieutenant," answered Don Lazarillo.
"Where's the passing ship to come from?" sneered Butler. "Who's a-going
to wait for her? And d'ye think us men 'ud be content to mess about in
this blooming schooner, may be for weeks, not knowing where we are and
not knowing how to head? Ask the gent who's a-going to pay us, cook?
That's what we're assembled for to hear."
"Besides," said I, "I should not dream of transferring Miss Noble to
another vessel in her present condition."
I spied Don Lazarillo and Mariana exchanging a look. Indeed, I already
more than suspected that these proposals of the Spaniards so far were
no more than a "try on," to use a cant term; that he held another
card in his hand ready to play should he be forced to do so, but
that, meanwhile, his business was to make the best terms he could for
himself. This conjecture was confirmed by the next speech of his that
Mariana translated:
"Then what remains but for me to be transshipped to a passing
vessel--Mariana and me?"
"That is reasonable. That shall be done," said I. "It is what I myself
should have proposed."
"_Contento!_" said Don Lazarillo, and was silent.
"What about our money?" said Butler.
The Spaniard looked round him on Mariana rendering this, then said, "I
will give drafts upon my bank at Madrid."
Butler, who was clearly the sea lawyer of this little community,
fastening his eyes upon the rings on Don Lazarillo's fingers, shook his
head with a contemptuous snort of laughter. "No, no," cried he, "I know
what drafts be. A draft's a check, and a check's a bit of paper as may
be made not worth the ink it's wrote upon with by the party withdrawing
of his money from the bank. No, no," he continued, shaking his head
somewhat savagely at Don Lazarillo, "we want money, not paper, and if
ye can't pay us in money, then ye've got to settle with us in what is
next best to it." And here he looked significantly at the Don's rings
again.
"You may tell Don Lazarillo," said I to Mariana, "that we shall not
be satisfied with his drafts, nor with anything short of the cash he
may have about him; and what he may lack in cash he must make good in
jewelry, of which he and his dead friend have plenty between them."
When this was interpreted, an expression like a spasm passed over
Don Lazarillo's face. He reflected, then, with a passionate gesture,
whipped out a pocket-book, from which he abstracted a handsome gold
pencil-case, and all very passionately, with knitted brows and
muttering lips, he entered certain figures, then shrieked rather than
pronounced the amount to the cook, naming it in Spanish currency.
Mariana nodded. Don Lazarillo now addressed him with excitement,
then, springing to his feet, he entered Don Christoval's room, from
which, in a few minutes, he returned bearing with him a bag of yellow
leather, and the silk pocket-handkerchief which, as he had given me to
understand, contained his deceased friend's jewelry. He opened the bag
with trembling fingers, and then, with glowing eyes, he capsized the
contents on to the table. This consisted of English sovereigns--two or
three hundred, I should have imagined.
"Count," shrieked the Spaniard, "and divide."
I counted, and made the sum exactly a hundred and fifty pounds.
"Divide," yelled Don Lazarillo, and he added some terms in Spanish
which Mariana did not think proper to interpret. The cook's eyes
gleamed like the blade of a new poniard as he looked at the money. I
told thirty pounds for each man; for this, it seems, was the wages
agreed upon for the run. Don Lazarillo then thrust the little parcel of
jewelry which had belonged to his friend across to me.
"Dat veel pay you, I hope, Capitan Portlack," he exclaimed, hooking
his thumbs in the arms of his waistcoat, and leaning back with an
assumption of haughtiness and contempt, which fitted him as ill as the
clothes of Don Christoval would.
I opened the handkerchief, and found a handsome gold watch and chain
and a very fine diamond ring. I gave Don Lazarillo a nod, and without
speech put these articles into my pockets. The value of this jewelry
to purchase it would probably have amounted to three or four times the
sum I was to receive; but then I estimated the things at their selling
price, which probably might not reach to fifty guineas, so that in
pocketing them I was taking no more than was my due.
"You are now all satisfied, I hope," exclaimed Don Lazarillo, through
Mariana. Yes, we were all satisfied. "And you put Mariana and me and my
effects on board the first passing ship that will receive us?"
"Yes," said I.
"But suppose that she is sailing to Australia or to India?"
"I shall not be able to help that," said I. "You may stay in this
schooner if you please, but Miss Noble must be conveyed home."
He rose from his seat frowning, viciously bit off the end of a cigar,
lighted it, and went on deck, followed by the cook.
"Well, your minds are easy now, I hope, my lads?" said I, rising.
"We're obliged to ye, Mr. Portlack," answered Butler. "You've managed
first-rate for us. And now, d'ye know, sir, while I've been sitting at
this table an idea's come into my head."
"What is that idea?"
"It consarns our leaving the schooner, sir."
"Let me hear it."
"There's that big boat amidships," said he. "We shipped at Cadiz, and
it was known at Cadiz that this here Casandra sailed from that port on
such and such a day. Now my idea is: suppose you run in for the Spanish
land until you've got Cadiz within, say, half-a-day's sail. Us men will
then launch the cutter and start away for the port, you giving us its
bearings. We must turn to and invent a yarn and represent this schooner
as having foundered, the rest of the people who got away in the small
boat being lost sight of by us. There are plenty of vessels at Cadiz,
and they're always in want of hands. We can ship as smartly as we
choose, get away, and then there'll be an end."
I reflected, and said, "I think your scheme excellent, and Cadiz,
though still somewhat south, is, in my opinion, as good as any other
port. Only, when you are gone and the two Spaniards transshipped, I
shall be alone in this schooner."
"There'll be Tom, sir," said Tubb.
I smiled.
"If you're to return to England, Mr. Portlack," said Butler,
pronouncing his words with great emphasis, "in this here schooner, and
we're to leave you, which must be, for ne'er a man of us must dream of
going home for a long spell to come arter such a job as this, then what
I say is, there's no help for it. Alone ye'll have to be until such
times as a passing vessel 'ull loan ye a man or two to help you home."
"Your scheme requires reflection," said I. "Give me time to think over
it. And now, since you're below, you may as well turn to and get that
body yonder ready for the last toss. We'll drop it over the side at
eight bells."
I walked to Miss Noble's cabin and looked in. She was still asleep,
preserving absolutely her former posture. I beckoned to Butler, who was
at that instant stepping from Don Christoval's berth. He approached,
and I said, "See there," pointing to the lady. "She has been sleeping
like that pretty nearly ever since we left the berth after searching
it."
"Is she sleeping?" said he.
"Yes," said I, "but there is something unnatural in such slumber as
this. She has not stirred a finger for some hours."
"She seems breathing all right, and appears comfortable enough, sir,"
said he, after silently surveying her.
"She does not look comfortable. I wish to see her in her bunk. Let us
gently lift her into it. If she wakens she may prove to have her mind.
Observe her face; there is no madness in that placid expression."
We were both strong men, and, bending over her we grasped, swiftly
raised, and laid her at her length in the bunk. She never moved. It was
indeed like lifting a statue; just as we placed her so did she continue
to lie, breathing quietly with an expression upon her lips that was
almost a smile.
"Well," hoarsely whispered Butler, "blowed if I could ha' believed in
such a thing had I been told it. She may be a-dying."
"I hope not," said I; "one would wish to right the enormous wrong that
has been done her before she dies."
We stood in the doorway a few minutes looking at her, talking in
whispers of the assassination of the Spaniard, and of other matters
growing out of that tragic subject, such as the part that Don Lazarillo
was playing in this extraordinary enterprise, the probability of the
girl having lost her reason for life, and so forth, during which the
young lady lay as motionless as though she rested in her coffin. Butler
then left the cabin to obtain materials for stitching up the body in,
and I went on deck.
We buried the remains of Don Christoval at eight bells that evening,
that is, at eight o'clock. It was a fine moonless evening, with so much
star-light in the heavens that the twilight seemed to still dwell in
the atmosphere when the afterglow had long ago died out. There was a
pleasant breeze, and a sullen, steady sweep of swell, over which the
schooner, almost denuded of her canvas--for our plans were not yet
formed--rode with the regularity of the tick of a clock.
Ever since sunset Don Lazarillo had hung about in the waist, conversing
with Mariana in Spanish in subdued accents, yet with an energy that
again and again ran a hiss through his utterance. The body, with a
couple of cannon shot attached to its feet, was handed on deck by three
of the men; it was then placed upon a piece of the main-hatch cover,
and hoisted to the lee-rail, the foot of the cover resting on the rail,
while the head was supported by Butler and South. The two Spaniards,
who had fallen dumb when the body was brought on deck, repeatedly
crossed themselves, holding their hats in their hands, while the men
were manoeuvring at the sides with Don Christoval's remains.
"Are you ready?" said I.
"All ready, sir," answered Butler.
"Pull off your caps, lads," said I, and, bareheaded, I stepped up
to Don Lazarillo and begged him to recite the prayers he desired to
pronounce over his friend's ashes.
He responded with a bow, which, for the moment, affected me by its
mixture of courtesy and grief, and then, with Mariana stalking at his
heels, approached the body. They went down upon their knees, and Don
Lazarillo prayed loudly, the cook occasionally striking in with an
ejaculation. I gazed with respect, and even reverence, at this strange
picture. No matter what a man's faith may be, no matter what his color
may be, no matter how wild and grotesque the accents in which he
vents himself, never can I behold him praying to the Being in whom
he believes, yea, even though he be a John Chinaman prostrate to the
flat of his forehead upon the floor of his joss-house, without being
strangely moved and melted into feelings and sensations in which one
should seem to find but little affinity with the rough life of the
ocean. The Spaniard's prayers were not mine, his religion was not mine;
but what signifies _that_, thought I, as I stood listening and gazing;
every man sets his watch in the dark, and it is but reasonable that
every man should think his own time right.
The night wind, damp with dew, hummed in the rigging; the dark water
broke from the gentle thrust of the stem in sobs, while Don Lazarillo
prayed, and while Mariana ejaculated. As my eye went to the pale
glimmering shape of the canvas I heard again the sounds of the sweet
tenor voice as it had quietly rung through the open skylight that
morning. I heard again the harp-like notes of the delicately-fingered
guitar. I beheld again those visions which that clear, melodious voice
had evoked, those summer aromatic scenes which Don Christoval's songs
had painted upon the vision of my mind. The Spaniards rose from their
knees. Don Lazarillo made the sign of the cross upon the body, then
pronounced some word in Spanish, with a sob in his tone.
"Let it go, men," said I.
They tilted the hatch, and the pale shape flashed over the side.
"Is Butler forward there?" I called out as I was pacing the
quarter-deck half an hour later.
"Here he is, sir," responded Butler's voice.
"Step aft," said I. He arrived. "Butler, I've been thinking over your
scheme. For the last half-hour I've been thinking of nothing else.
If you men go away in the boat, will the negro boy Tom be willing to
remain with me?"
"Yes, sir."
"How do you know."
"I put the question to him and he said he would be willing."
"Then," I exclaimed, "I consent. I agree with you that, if you are
to leave me, I must be alone until I can get help. I might indeed
transship you, feign to the master of the vessel we should speak that
you were mutineers--a character you would all have to support--and
ask him to give me two or three men in exchange for my five. That I
might do; but the business would consist of a lie, and I hate lies.
We should have to act a part: the five of you would have to invent a
yarn, and carefully stick to it, while you were aboard the vessel that
received you.... No! your plan is the most straightforward, and the
least troublesome. The risk is mine, and a heavy risk it is--to be left
in a big vessel with one hand only, and that hand a boy, and a mad lady
below, who will require watching, and who may attempt our lives when
she awakes. But I see no other way out of the difficulty."
"Nor I, sir," he answered. "We don't like the notion of leaving ye
alone; but then, you insist upon carrying this here schooner to
England, and to England we don't mean to go," said he, slapping his leg.
"Say no more. We'll hold that matter settled. Only, before you leave,
the two Spaniards must have left; otherwise they'll be cutting Tom's
and my throat, taking their chance, as I shall have to take my chance,
of being fallen in with and succored. The Don doesn't like the notion
of losing his schooner; but lose her he must, for he'll never dare to
lay claim to her."
"I should think not!" said he. "Well, sir, then I'll tell my mates it's
settled. What about leaving the vessel under this small canvas?"
"Oh," I answered, "sail can now be made, and I'll shape a course for
Cadiz. As we approach the land, we stand to fall in with some trader,
who'll put the two Spaniards ashore on their native soil."
I was in charge of the deck, and it was for me, therefore, to give
the necessary orders for sail to be made. The sailors sprang about
with marvelous agility. The influence of the money they had received
operated far more strongly in them than the influence of the funeral
they had witnessed, and I believe that nothing had restrained them
from singing, dancing, making a night of it, in short--for the
fellows were never without plenty of a cheap sort of claret that had
been economically laid in for their consumption--nothing, I say, had
hindered them from celebrating their payment of thirty pounds a man by
a forecastle carousal, but the feeling that some trifling respect was
due to the memory of the dead and to the affliction of Don Lazarillo.
Sail was heaped upon the schooner. Her twin spires floated through the
liquid dusk that was radiant with large trembling stars, and a sheen
melted off the edges of the canvas into the gloom, as though the whole
fabric were some tall island of ice.
Don Lazarillo sat under the skylight; he lay back in his chair with
his legs crossed, his hands clasped upon his waistcoat, and a long
cigar forking out of his mouth. His eyes of fire were fixed upon one of
the cabin lamps, and I saw them gleaming, through the clouds of smoke
he expelled, like the lanterns of a light-ship on a thick night. His
countenance wore an expression of desperate dejection. Some distance
away from him sat the man South, whose turn it was to watch beside
Miss Noble's cabin door. This duty I conceived might, for the next two
hours, at all events, be intrusted to the negro boy. He was somewhere
forward. I called to him, and he came along to me out of the gloom; his
black face so blending with the obscurity that the white jacket and
canvas breeches he wore made him resemble a body without a head.
"You are satisfied to remain with me, Tom," said I, "when the sailors
leave me?"
"Yes, massa."
"You are a good boy, and a plucky boy. We shall not be long without
help, I expect. I will take care that you are rewarded." The expanse
of his teeth by a sudden grin was like a streak of dim light upon the
darkness. "Go below into the cabin," said I, "and relieve South. Let
him go forward. You know what you have to watch?"
"Dah lady's door, sah."
He descended, and up came South, who was immediately followed by Don
Lazarillo. The Spaniard, temporarily blinded by the brilliance he
had emerged from, stood in the companion-way staring around; then
perceiving me, he crossed the deck and with great haste and agitation
addressed me in Spanish.
"No compreny, no compreny, Don Lazarillo!" I exclaimed, and sang out
for Mariana to be sent aft. The fellow promptly arrived, and upon him
the Don instantly discharged a whole torrent of words.
"What is wrong?" said I.
The cook answered that Don Lazarillo wished Miss Noble's cabin to be
watched by a seaman. Tom was a boy. Should Miss Noble dash out of her
cabin armed with a knife, what would Tom be able to do?
"Tell Don Lazarillo," said I, "that Miss Noble is slumbering in what
seems to be a trance."
The Don violently shook his head. His friend had been assassinated: he
himself might be the next victim. By the bones of St. Thomas, was he
to be stuck in the back like a pig, or to have his head half severed
from his body in his sleep? He would ask Captain Portlack to do him
a great favor--to exchange quarters with him. He, Don Lazarillo, with
Señor Portlack's courteous permission, would sleep under the main hatch
during the remainder of his stay on board La Casandra.
I promptly assented, and that the unhappy Spaniard should meanwhile
enjoy some little ease of mind, I called to South and bade him resume
his look-out in the cabin. I now hoped to be able to get the truth
about this wild and tragic expedition out of Don Lazarillo, and, with
as much tact as I was master of, sought through Mariana to direct the
conversation that way. But I was disappointed. Don Lazarillo returned
evasive answers, and then, suddenly complaining of the cold, made
me a bow and withdrew to the cabin with Mariana, who, I presently
ascertained, immediately went to work to prepare my quarters for the
reception of the Don.
After ten o'clock I saw no more of the Spaniard. I had heard some sound
of hammering, but knew not what it signified until South, coming up out
of the cabin after having been relieved by one of the seamen, informed
me that it had been caused by Mariana nailing up the bulk-head door
that led to the sleeping quarters I had occupied. "The Don don't mean
that the lady shall get at him, sir," said the man, with a short laugh.
I stepped into the cabin to mix myself a glass of grog, dim the lamps,
and take a look round.
"Has all been still within?" said I to William Scott, who was to be
sentry down here till midnight.
He replied that he had not heard a sound. On this I opened the door of
the lady's room, and bade Scott hold it open that I might see by the
sheen of the cabin lamps. There lay the girl as she had been lying for
hours, always breathing with the same regularity, her posture exactly
the same. I viewed her attentively, but could not detect that she had
moved her head or a limb by as much as the breadth of a finger-nail.
I marveled much as I returned on deck. Was this sleep the forerunner of
death? Was life ebbing away as she thus rested? If not, then how long
would this slumber last? Yet, thought I, it is best as it is; better
that her senses should be thus locked up, than that with eyes brilliant
with madness she should be ceaselessly pacing the floor of her room, or
with insane cunning watching for an opportunity to steal forth.
I slept during my watch below--that is, from twelve to four--in the
cabin that had been Don Lazarillo's, and Captain Dopping's before him,
to which new quarters I found that Mariana had brought the charts,
chronometer, nautical instruments, and so forth. I slept soundly.
Butler aroused me: all had been well. The breeze had freshened, he
said; at three o'clock a large line-of-battle ship had passed within
musket-shot; saving this, there was nothing to report. I looked in upon
the girl on my way to the deck and found her, as I was now expecting to
find her, in a deep and death-like sleep.
When the dawn broke I anxiously scanned the sea line in search of a
ship. Every hour of sailing of this sort was sweeping us closer into
the Spanish coast; and as I had no intention whatever of relinquishing
my five seamen until I had got rid of the two Spaniards, my present
keen anxiety was to heave something into view that would receive them
and carry them off. The rising sun flashed a bright and joyous morning
into the wide scene of heaven and ocean. The horizon lay clear as the
rim of a lens; a sweep of delicate blue to either hand of the glorious
wake of the soaring luminary, with the sky sloping down to it in a dim
azure, richly mottled in the west with clouds; but there was nothing
to be seen. On this I resolved to shorten sail and to head somewhat
more to the southward, where we stood a chance of falling in with the
sort of craft we desired to signal. All hands were on deck. I briefly
explained my motive, and canvas was forthwith reduced, diminishing the
speed of the schooner to within about four miles an hour.
While the men were busy with the ropes, Don Lazarillo's dark and
bearded face rose through the main hatch. His eyes swept the
horizon, as mine had, and then they settled upon me with a frown of
disappointment. His complexion was unwholesome, as from a long night of
sleeplessness and anxiety, not to mention the several passions which
would contend within him when he reflected on the death of his friend,
the complete and tragic failure of the expedition, the prospective
loss of his schooner, and the certain loss of the money--doubtless a
large sum--with which I was quite sure he had aided Don Christoval
in the execution of his scheme to run away with an English heiress.
He gave me a sullen bow, pointed with a shrug to the bare ocean,
addressed Mariana, whose eyes watched him from the galley-door, and
descended into the cabin; but as I happened to be standing close to the
companion-way, I was able to observe that he paused, before entering
the interior, to make sure that somebody was watching Miss Noble's
berth.
He had finished his breakfast by the time I was ready for mine, and
as I took my seat he got up and went on deck in silence, casting a
single savage glance at the door of the lady's cabin as he walked to
the companion-steps. I looked in upon her when I had breakfasted; there
was no change in her attitude: her trance, if trance it were, was as
profound as ever it had been.
However, as it turned out, Don Lazarillo was not to pass another
night aboard La Casandra. And, indeed, seeing what waters we were
now navigating, it would have been extraordinary, a thing beyond all
average sea-faring experience, had hour after hour rolled by without
bringing us a sight of a sail. I was eating some dinner, at half-past
one o'clock, in the cabin, when Butler put his head into the skylight
and called down:
"Mr. Portlack, there's a small vessel standing almost direct for us out
of the south'ard and west'ard--bound in, apparently, for the Portugal
coast. Shall we signal her?"
"Ay, certainly," cried I. "Heave the schooner to, and run the ensign
aloft. I'll be with you presently."
In about ten minutes' time I finished my dinner, swallowed a bumper
of the noble Burgundy which had been stowed aft for the consumption
of the Spaniards, lighted one of the fine Havana cigars, of which
there was a locker half full, and, exchanging a sentence with Trapp,
whose turn it was to keep watch on Miss Noble, went on deck. Not above
three miles distant, and heading, as it seemed, directly for us, was a
square-rigged vessel, a little brig, as she subsequently proved. Her
canvas glanced like satin in the sun as she rolled. She was coming
leisurely along under all plain sail. There was a color blowing at her
main royalmast head, where alone it would have been visible to us, and
on seeing it through a glass I made it out to be the Portuguese ensign.
Don Lazarillo was on deck, swathed in his long Spanish cloak, and
wearing on his head a large Andalusian hat. He looked like a bandit in
an opera. Mariana, whose head was adorned by a long blue cap, shaped
like the night-caps men used to sleep in when I was a boy, watched the
approaching craft from his favorite skulking-hole, the caboose door.
"She veel do, I hope!" cried Don Lazarillo, on catching sight of me,
motioning toward the brig with a theatrical gesture.
"I hope so, indeed," said I, earnestly. "But," cried I, happening to
direct my eyes at our gaff end, where flew not the English but the
Spanish colors, "what have you got hoisted there, Butler?"
"The only ensign aboard, sir," he answered.
"Upon my word! Yet I might have supposed so. La Casandra is a Spaniard,
to all intents and purposes. So much the better," I added, as I sent
another glance at the flag we were flying. "The Portuguese may be more
willing to oblige the people of that flag's nationality than those
whose rag is the red, white, and blue."
The schooner had been hove to, thrown head to wind, her square canvas
being furled, and nothing was to be heard but the slopping sound of
waters alongside and the straining noises of the fabric as she leaned
to the swell, while silently and eagerly we kept our eyes fastened upon
the coming Portuguese brig. She drew close to windward, put her helm
down, backed her maintop-sail yard, and lay within hailing distance--a
prettier model than ever I should have thought to see flying _her_
colors, clean in rig, and her canvas fitting her well. The white
water raced fountain-like from her bows as she courtesied, ripples of
light ran like thrills through her black, wet sides, and there was
a frequent leap of white fire from the brass and glass along her
quarter-deck.
A tall, gaunt man, whose features were just distinguishable, got upon
the rail, and, holding on by a back-stay, pulled off his red cap and
hailed us in Portuguese. Don Lazarillo looked round to observe if
anybody meant to answer him; then exclaiming, "I understand; I speak
his language," he shouted an answer--but an answer that seemed a
fathom long; in fact, there was room in Don Lazarillo's response to
the Portuguese skipper's hail for the whole story of our adventure.
Mariana came and stood alongside the Don. Many cries were exchanged;
the gestures were frequent and often frantic. Presently the Portuguese
skipper dropped on to his deck, and Don Lazarillo bade Mariana inform
me that the man meant to come aboard. In a few minutes the Portuguese
brig lowered a boat; her gaunt skipper entered it, accompanied by a
couple of men, and pulled the little craft alongside of us.
I had never beheld so strange a figure as that Portuguese skipper.
His face was little more than that of a skull, the flesh of which
resembled the skin of an old drum where it is darkened by the beating
of the sticks; it lay in ridges, as though badly pasted on, and
these ridges looked to have become iron-hard through exposure to the
weather. His eyes were large, intensely black, and horribly deep sunk,
and glowed with what might well have been the fire of fever. Don
Lazarillo pronounced some words, haughtily motioning to me; on which
the Portuguese skipper gave me such a bow as a skeleton would make,
and I pulled off my hat. Then the Spaniard addressed Mariana, who,
accosting me in his extraordinary English, said that Don Lazarillo
desired to know if it should be left to him to conduct this business
of their quitting the schooner. I answered, "Certainly." I had no wish
to interfere at all; nor could I be of the slightest use to them, not
knowing a syllable of their tongues. On this Don Lazarillo took the
Portuguese skipper into the cabin, and with them went the cook.
After a few moments I heard the sound of a cork drawn; this was
followed by much animated conversation; but I did not choose to show
myself at the skylight under which they were seated, and their accents
reached my ear faintly. I said to Butler, with a smile:
"I hope the Don isn't conspiring with the Portugal man to seize the
schooner."
"Lord bless ye, Mr. Portlack," he answered with a grin. "How many of
the likes of them chaps in the boat over the side down there would be
needed for such a job as that?"
And a grimy, wretched brace of men they were; yellow as mustard, and
dark for want of soap, clad in costumes of rags, the lower extremities
of which were kept together by being thrust into half-Wellington boots,
bronzed with brine.
"Where are you from?" I shouted.
They were squatting in the bottom of the boat like monkeys, and their
manner of looking upward was exactly that of monkeys--swift, their
gleaming eyes restless, and a queer puckering of their leather lips
that seemed a grin. They understood me, and one answered, "Bahia."
"Where are you bound to?"
"Lisbon."
I tried them with one or two more questions, but to no purpose. After
the lapse of some twenty minutes Mariana came out of the cabin, and
said that Don Lazarillo begged I would be so good as to send two seamen
below to convey his effects into the boat.
"Certainly," I answered, and ordered a couple of men to attend upon
the Spaniard. Guessing that the Don's effects would be comparatively
trifling, I could not imagine why he required the services of two men
in addition to the cook's help; until, after a little, first one sailor
made his appearance with his arms full of boxes of cigars, then the
second sailor arrived with a case of wine, then Mariana came on deck
with bags and valises belonging to the two Dons. These articles were
handed into the boat, and the seamen and the cook returned for more.
It was clearly Don Lazarillo's intention to carry off as much as the
Portuguese boat would hold, and by and by she was lying alongside deep
with wine, cigars, a chest, as I supposed, of the silver plate, and a
variety of other portable articles.
Don Lazarillo then came up with the Portuguese captain. They went
to the side and looked over at the boat, and the Portuguese captain
hailed the men in her, and some unintelligible talk followed. The boat
was then drawn under the gangway by the two fellows, and without a
syllable, but with one deadly glance of malice at me, Don Lazarillo
entered her. Mariana, throwing a bundle into her, followed. The
Portuguese skipper then sprang, and the boat shoved off.
Fortunately for her inmates, the surface of the sea flashed and
feathered in ripples only, for the spite or avarice of the Spaniard
had so loaded the boat that it needed but a very little weight in the
movement of the water to swamp and founder her out of hand.
When her two oars had impelled her a pistol-shot distant from us, Don
Lazarillo stood up and proceeded to harangue me in Spanish, with both
arms raised and both fists clinched. He rapidly worked himself into a
white heat of passion; his voice rose into a penetrating shriek. That
he was heaping upon my head every malediction which the language of
his country, rich in grotesquely injurious terms, could supply him
with, I did not doubt. I picked up a telescope and looked at his face
through it, which cool, provoking act so heightened the madness of
his wrath that he fell to swaying and toppling about after the manner
of a man delirious with drink; whereupon the Portuguese captain, who
had sat stolidly looking up at him, to save his own and the lives of
the others--for the boat dangerously swayed to the Don's ecstatic
gestures--struck him behind in the bend of his legs with the sharp of
his hand, and Don Lazarillo vanished in a twinkling in the bottom of
the boat. A roar of laughter went up from our men.
"Trim sail, lads, and then heap it on her," I called out; and, even
as the boat lay alongside the brig, with the people in her handing up
Don Lazarillo's little cargo, the Casandra, yielding to the impulse of
her broad and lofty cloths, was ripping through it to the southward
and eastward, the brine spitting at her stem, and the shapely little
Portuguese brig veering astern into a Lilliputian toy, her white canvas
resembling a hovering butterfly in the confused, misty, and broken
fires of the sun's reflection upon the ocean in the south-west.