The afternoon and night that followed brought little comfort to the
cabin passengers. Not till nearly dark did the steamer find the shelter
of another island, and all the intervening hours she wallowed in the
trough of the sea, with the wind abeam, and by the time the heights of
Carmen Island loomed between them and the red glow of the sunset skies,
Turnbull had thrice wished himself in hotter climes than even Arizona,
and could only feebly damn his junior for coming down to ask if there
were not something he could do for him.
"Yes, take this pistol and shoot me," moaned the sufferer. "No, of
course I don't want brandy and water, nor you nor anybody. It's simply
scandalous for you to be up and well. Go 'way!" And though Loring sorely
needed counsel, he felt that Turnbull was in no mood for talk, and so
climbed back on deck again. He had made up his mind to tell the purser
the whole story and to ask him to examine the contents of the package.
All the livelong night the Idaho plowed and careened through the rolling
seas, gaining scant relief off Santa Catalina and San José, but when in
the undimmed splendor of the morning sun she swept proudly into the
placid, land-locked harbor of old La Paz, Loring was the only man among
her passengers to appear on deck. Even after she dropped anchor and one
or two bedraggled victims were hoisted from below and dropped over the
side to be rowed ashore, none of the women of the gay Guaymas party was
able to climb the stairs. The wind was gone by sundown, and the Idaho
once more steering coastwise for Cape San Lucas. The night wore on and
Loring was still alone when, just as the tinkle of the ship's bell told
that nine o'clock had come, with a soft, warm air drifting off the land,
a fragile little form issued slowly from the companionway, and the
stewardess smiled invitingly on the blue-eyed officer, as though
begging him to aid her feeble charge to a seat.
"I have brought the señorita up for half an hour. I made her come," said
she, as she dumped the pile of shawls into a spreading chair and began
preparing a nest, while Pancha, turning away at sight of Loring, sank to
the end of the bench, the very seat she occupied as they put to sea from
Guaymas. But now it was Loring who tendered his arm, and, calmly
ignoring her evident if unspoken protest, aided in lifting her from the
bench and seating her in the depths of the easy reclining chair. The
stewardess, with practiced hand, carefully tucked the rugs about her,
and bidding the little damsel make the most of the soft, salt air, while
she herself ran below to prepare her chocolate, would have gone at once
but for Pancha's trembling, yet restraining hand. The child seemed to
cling to her in desperation. Rapidly and in low tone she poured forth a
torrent of pleading, and the kind-hearted woman looked about her in
perplexity and distress.
"What can I do, sir?" said she to Loring, in English. "This poor little
thing has eaten nothing since she came aboard. She has cried herself
sick. She is as weak as a baby and must have food, yet she will not let
me go."
"Stay with her until she is calmer," said Loring. "I'll get what is
needed."
"But I cannot. The other ladies call for me incessantly."
A little disk of gold was slipped quickly into the disengaged hand. "Let
them call awhile but don't you go," was the double answer.
It is odd to note how soon the troubled waves subside along those summer
shores. The Idaho was only lazily bowing and courtesying to Old Neptune
now. A long, languorous heave of the billows, as though worn out with
the furious lashing of the last few days, was the only greeting of the
broadening sea as the steamer rounded the southeast headland and slowly
bore away for Cape San Lucas. Little Pancha's dusky head was resting
wearily, yet resignedly, on the pillow, her hand still clasping that of
the stewardess, as an attendant from below appeared with a little tray
and some scalding hot chocolate, some tender slices of the breast of
chicken, some tempting little dainties were quickly set before her.
"Make her take them," whispered Loring from the shadows, and, once the
effort was made and the "ice broken," the dark-eyed invalid ate almost
eagerly. At three bells the stewardess was allowed to slip away for just
a little more chocolate, and, glancing furtively, fearfully about her,
Pancha was aware of a dim masculine form seated not ten feet away. She
knew it was Loring, and yet could not move. She felt that he must
presently rise and accost her, and she shrank from the meeting in
dismay, yet soon began to look again, and to note that he had not
changed his attitude. Apparently indifferent to her presence, he was
gazing dreamily out across the slowly-heaving billows, wherein the stars
were dancing. The stewardess was gone full quarter of an hour, and in
all that time he never even once glanced her way, and poor Pancha found
her eyes flitting toward him every little while in something almost
akin to fascination. Could it be that he had--forgotten?--or that he did
not recognize her? Yet she had heard how both Loring and the other, that
older officer, the Colonel Turnbull, had carried her below as she slowly
rallied from her fainting spell two nights before. Surely she thought
she remembered seeing recollection or recognition in the eyes of both,
yet now when he had opportunity to accuse her, not one word did he
attempt. She was warmed and comforted by the chocolate and the food. She
enjoyed the second cup just brought her. She begged the stewardess to
stay, yet only faintly protested when told she had to go. Once again
Pancha was alone when the chiming tinkle, four bells, told that ten
o'clock had come, and then for a moment she turned cold again and shrank
within her rugs and wraps, for Loring slowly and deliberately rose and
looked toward her. Now he was coming. Now he would speak. Now he would
demand of her to explain her part in the wicked thing that had happened.
She dreaded, yet she longed to say, for she had a story that she could
eagerly tell--to him. For a moment her heart lay still, and then leaped
and fluttered uncontrollably. Slowly the shadowy fellow-passenger had
found his feet. Steadily he looked, as though straight at her, for
nearly a minute, then as slowly and deliberately turned his back and
walked away forward. When, nearly an hour later, the stewardess came to
lead her below, and the purser and one of the ship's officers had both
been to inquire if she felt better, and to tell her to be of good cheer,
she'd be all right on the morrow and trolling for dolphin on the blue
Pacific, though she saw Loring slowly pacing up and down, though twice
he passed so close to her that by stretching forth her tiny foot she
could have checked or tripped him, not once again did she detect so much
as a glance at her.
And yet, when a little later the stewardess tucked her in her white
berth, and invented messages and inquiries from her prostrated aunt and
cousins in neighboring staterooms, that designing woman wove a tale
about the blue-eyed, silent officer pacing the lonely deck--how anxious
he was to do something for the little invalid--how eagerly he had gone
and ordered for her, and superintended the preparation of that dainty
little supper--how he had bidden the stewardess to stay by her and
soothe her, and was so deeply interested. High and low, rich and poor,
they love romance, these tender hearts, and for that reason, doubtless,
no reference did Madame Flores make of the five-dollar gold-piece that
had found its way to her ready palm. "And he spoke Spanish beautifully,
did the Señor Teniente," said Madame Flores, whereat did Pancha's heart
begin to flutter anew, for that meant that he must have heard and
understood her pleadings.
And so it happened that till long after midnight the child lay wide-eyed
and awake, listening to that steady, measured tread upon the upper deck.
Strange and sad and eventful had been that young life thus far. What
strange new thing had Fate in store for her now?
The Idaho dropped anchor at San Lucas and put off a passenger and took
on the mails--two bags with flanks as flat as the sandy strand on which
the long white line of breakers beat in ceaseless, soothing melody. The
broad blue ocean glistened under the sunshine of another day, and late
in the afternoon one or two pallid and attenuated shapes were aided to
the deck, where Pancha had been reclining ever since noon, and the
captain had come and rallied her upon her big, pathetic eyes and hollow
cheeks, and coaxed her to promise to play her guitar that evening, and
the purser had been polite and the stewardess had brought up an
appetizing lunch, and Colonel Turnbull put in an appearance toward
sundown (a grewsome face was his) and all this time Mr. Loring was
either briskly pacing the deck or reading in a sheltered nook back of
the purser's cabin, but never once did he address her or intrude upon
her meditations, and Pancha's spirits and courage--or was it innate
coquetry?--began to ferment. That evening no less than five passengers
appeared at table, though all five did not remain through the several
courses. That evening Pancha was again tucked in her chair, and Cousin
Inez was aided from her room and placed beside her, and very attentive
was Mr. Traynor, the purser, though fair Inez was but languid and
unresponsive still, and kept her veil about her face, and Colonel
Turnbull came and poured champagne for both with lavish hand, and vowed
it was specific against further assaults of the salty seas, and still
Mr. Loring never spoke a word. With the sparkling sunshine of yet
another day, the little maid was early on the shining deck, fresh from
its matutinal ablutions, and there was Loring taking his early exercise,
striding up and down, up and down, and drinking in the glorious,
invigorating sea air; but even now he came no nearer, and she who feared
at first to venture to her accustomed seat, lest he might take advantage
of her solitude and come and ask things or say things she could not bear
to hear, finally sidled along one side while he was patrolling the
other, made her timid way to the stern and stood there clinging to the
flagstaff, and became absorbed in the rush of the foaming, boiling
waters unrolling a gradually narrowing streak of dazzling white through
the blue-green waste of billows, all sparkling in the slanting sunshine.
Wheeling in flapping circles overhead, skimming the crested waves,
settling down and lazily floating on the heaving flood, so many dots of
snow upon the sapphire, the flock of gulls sailed onward with the ship,
white scavengers of the sea, and sometimes dropped so close to the rail
on wide extended wing that Pancha could plainly see the eager little red
beads of eyes, could almost bury her soft cheek in the thick plumage of
their fleecy breasts. Away out toward the invisible coast a three-master
was bowling along under full spread of canvas, and, midway between, some
huge black fish were plunging through the swelling brine. Early as it
was the deck hands had cast astern the stout trolling line, and far in
their wake the spinning, silvery bait came leaping and flashing from the
northward slope of each succeeding wave, and Pancha, who had seen the
previous day a dolphin hauled in to die in swiftly changing, brilliant
hues upon the deck, tested the taut lanyard with her slender fingers,
wondering whether she alone could triumph over the frantic struggles of
the splendid fish, or what she would do if she found she could not. It
was an hour to breakfast time. Only Loring and herself had yet appeared
on deck, and she stole a peep at him. There he was tramping up and down
as though he had to finish a thousand laps within a given time, and
stood at least a hundred laps behind. Four days earlier the child looked
with terror to the possibility of his even drawing near her. Now she was
beginning to wonder if he never would again. Five days before she could
have sobbed her heart out, praying not to be subjected to the
possibility of his asking her a question. Now she was wondering if he
did not even care to ask--if indeed she would ever have a chance to
tell.
She did not know, poor little maid, that late the previous evening,
after consultation between Turnbull and Loring, the latter had asked Mr.
Traynor to place a packet of his within the safe, and that then and
there Traynor had permitted him a peep at the valuable parcel to be
delivered to Escalante's representative in San Francisco. Loring had
been allowed to "heft" it in his hand, to curiously study the seals and
superscription, to satisfy himself it could not be the tin case stolen
from him at Sancho's, for this one was smaller, yet not to satisfy
himself it did not contain the missing watch and diamonds, for it was
big enough to hold them. Pancha did not know that the two officers had
agreed upon a plan of action to be put in operation the moment they were
within the Golden Gate. She did not dream that the thoughts of the
silent officer dwelt on her and her past intently as did hers on him.
She was heartsick, lonely and oppressed with anxieties, such as seldom
fall to the lot of maidens of sixteen, yet her heart was beating with
the hope that lives in buoyant health and youth. She had left the father
whom she devotedly loved and had believed all that a father could or
should be, had received his parting blessing at Hermosillo and his
faltering promise to soon be with her--at Guaymas. She had been radiant
with the thought of soon again springing to his arms when the Idaho
stopped there on the northward trip. She had been stunned and stricken
when told it was his wish she should go with her cousins to San
Francisco, dwell with them there, be educated there, and without hope of
again seeing him until he could come to her perhaps late in the summer.
She had then been told that his life was threatened and that hated
Gringos and suspicious compatriots, both, were thirsting for his blood.
She had been told that she herself was in danger of arrest for
complicity in robberies at Gila Bend--she, who had overheard the plot to
meet the stage, murder the passengers and rob the mails, at least that
was what the woman whom she was bidden to respect as her stepmother had
fearfully told her and asked if there were no way in which she could
warn Blake. How was she to know, poor child, what would result? How
could she help shrinking from sight of the officers she had watched with
such eager interest at Sancho's, when she was later told they were
seeking her father's life--told that, could they force a confession from
her, nothing on earth could save him? Yet here was the gray-haired
colonel devoting himself to Inez and being kind to her own trembling
self. Here was the Teniente Loring who had been lovely to her, said the
stewardess, until he saw her terror, her shrinking from him, and now
when she longed to tell him her simple story, he would not come near
her. Of the packet and its contents she knew next to nothing. Of their
intention to secure it and, if need be, her arrest with it, the moment
they reached the wharf at San Francisco, she could not dream. That that
fated packet was destined never to reach the Golden Gate, that every
plan and project, based on the safe return of the Idaho to port, was
doomed to die, no one of her passengers or crew could possibly have
predicted this beaming April morning as she cleft the billows on her
northward way. Pancha was only wondering how and when Loring's silence
would end, when within the minute the end came.