Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 66 — page 27: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ce re Despite its laconicism, and the hardened auditory to whom it is addressed, the horrid proposal does not find favorable response. Several speak in opposi- tion. Harry Blew first, and loudest. Despite his broken word and forfeited faith, the old man-o’- war’s-man is not so abandoned as to contemplate murder thus coolly. Some of those around him may have already committed this crime; but he does not yet feel up to if. Opposing Padillo’s counsel, he says: ‘What need for our killin’ them? For my part I don’t see any.” “And for your part what would you do?” sneer- ingly retorts the second mate. * Give the poor devils a chance for their lives, an’ let "em go.” ‘* How let them go?” asks Davis. ‘“ Why, set the barque’s head to sea. As the wind’s off the shore she’d soon carry them peyone sight 0’ land, an’ we'd never hear another word about ‘em.”’ **No, no! that won't do,”’ protest several, in the same breath. ‘* They might get picked up, and we'd hear too much about them,” ** Carrai /” ironically exclaims Padillo, *‘ that would be a wise proceeding! Just the way to get our throats in the garota. You forget that Don Gregorio Montijo is a man of the big grandee kind. And should he ever set foot ashore, after this, he’d have influence enough to make ever of Pie of earth too hot to hold us. There’s an old adage about dead men telling no tales. Maybe some of you know it to be a true one? Take my advice, camarados, and let us act up to it. What’s your opinion, Senor Go- mez?”’ ‘** My opinion,” responds Gomez, now speaking for the first time, ‘is that_there’s no need for any dif- ference in yours. Mr, Blew’s against the spilling of blood, andsoam I. Still we can’t let them off as he counsels. That would be something more than madness; it might be suicide. Still I see no neces- sity fora cold cutting of throats. Thereis a way between 1’d recommend, that'll spare us doing so.”’ ** What way?’ demand several voices. ‘* Tell us, Gil Gomez!” “Oh! it’s simple enough; you must all have thought of it, as well as I. Of course we intend sinking the ship. She's not likely to go down till we're a long way off—in all likelihood out of sight. We can leave them on board, and let them go quietly down along with her.” ‘ To this humane compromise several signify their assent; more swayed by its cleverness than its bu- manity. Not so Padillo; the inhuman monster, to whom killing seems congenial, sticks to his text and makes repl y by repeating his NB a 8 , . tow are we to help it?” he asks, with an air of naivele, under the circumstances ludicrous. “The skipper will be sure to resist, and so will the old Don. What then? We'll be compelled to cut their throats, knock them on the head, or pitch them overboard. For my part I don’t see the object of making such bother about it. I still say, let’s slip their wind at once!” ‘*Dash it, man!” cries Striker, hitherto ony a lis- tener, ‘‘ you Spanish chaps ‘pear to hev a ugly way 0’ doin’ bizness in a job o’ this sort. In the Australi- an bush we ar’n’t so bloodthirsty. When's we stick up a chap theer, so long’s he don’t cut up panty, we settle things by splicin’ him to a tree, an’ leavin’ him to his moditaalins, Why can't we do the same wi the skipper an’ the Don, supposin’ ’em to show re- fractory?” r gel “That's it!’’ exclaims Davis, indorsing Striker’s proposal. ‘*My old chum’s got the right idea of sich things. Let’s do as he says! ete ‘“‘ Beside,’ continues the ex-convict, “this bizness seems to me simple enough. We want the swag, an some may want the weemen. Well, we can get both ‘ithout the necessity o’ doin’ murder, As Gomez say, let ‘em go down wi’ the ship. Striker’s remonstrance seems strange—under the circumstances, serio-comic. al ‘ “What might you call murder’ mock ines, asks Padillo. ‘Is there any difference between their get- ting drowned and having their breath stopped by a blow? Not much to them, I take it; and no more to us. If there’s to be a distinction, it’s so small I can’t see it. Crrramba! no! “Whether you see it or not, then,” interferes Har- ry Blew, “Striker’s right; an’ for myself, as I've al- ready said, I object to spillin blood, when the thin isn’t absolutely necessary. By leavin’ ’em aboarc they may get drowned, as you say, Senor Padillo; but it’ll keep our hands clear o’ the red murder. “That's true!’’ shout pores Let’s take the Australian way of it, and tie them up. The ansenting bE sare are hr aad unanimous, and Striker’s compromise is carried. Thus far every thing is determined. It only re- mains to talk of some Jetails of action, and appor- tion to every one his part. For this very few ‘words suffice. It is arranged that the first mate, assisted by Davis, a sort of ship's carpenter, shall see to the scuttling of the vessel. Gomez and Hernandez are to take charge of the girls, and get them into the boat, as they best can; while Padillo is to heed ibe part y intrusted with the i stowage of the : pe “ge he hellish plan is complete, and the mo- ment of action near. CHAPTER LVI, AROUND THE oer mad he cabin of the Condor. tie Saree little saloon, such as is often found on trading vessels; not necessarily for passengers, but where the captain has ao eye to his own comfort and tastes that require gratification. Those of Captain Lautanas are refined beyond the common run of skippers—usually rough sea-dogs. There is proof of it in the fittings of the Condor’s cabin; whi is neatly, if not luxuriously furnished, and handsomely decorated. In addition to the in- struments belonging to his profession—his telescope, aneroid barometer, sextant, and compass, all placed conspicuously in racks—there is a book-case of orna- mentai wood, filled with well-bound volumes, with several squares of eae inlaid between the doors that lead to four little state-rooms—two on eack side. And between these also are settees, with hair-cloth cushioning; beneath these last, lockers— the same in which Don Gregorio’s gold-dust is stowed. The Specter Barque. Inthe center stands a table, eight by six, mahog- any, with massive legs, and feet firmly fixed to the floor. It is set lengthwise, fore and aft; o stout hair- cloth chair at top, another at bottom, and one at each side; all like the table stanchioned to the tim- bers of the floor. Above, a rack, with an array of decanters and lasses, and in the center a rida ag of lacquered frags, so constructed as to throw a brilliant glare on the surface of the table, while giving light more sub- dued to all other parts of the cabin. dinary sparkle. For the table beneath is spread with the best plate and glass-ware belonging to Cap- most savory viands the Condor’s cook can produce, while in the decanters are the choicest wines that can be extracted from her stores. host, at the head of the table, Don Gregorio, his vis- a-vis, at the foot, while the two girls at the sides are opposite each other, _ As the barque is going with but a my Pi breeze without the slightest roll or pitch, there is no need of guards upon the table, It shows only the spread of snow-white damask, the shining silver plate, the steel of Sheffield, and the ware of Stafford, along- side cut Jglasses and decanters. In the center an epergne containing a variety of fruits, with some flowers that, despite exposure to the saline breeze, Captain Lautanas has nursed into blooming. But the fruits seem flowers of themselves, having come from California, famed for the products of Pomona. There are peaches, the native growth of Yerba Bu- ena gardens, with plums and nectarines: there are melons and grapes from Los Angelos, further south; with the oranges, plantains and pine-apples of San Diego. Besides these subtropical clime, are Newtown pippins, that have been imported into California from the far Eastern States, mellowed by a sea voyage of several thou- sand miles around the stormy headland of Cape Horn. And in the bottles and decanters, richer by a like long sea cape lt are wines oe wi the ports and sherries of Portugal and Spain; the lighter vint- ages of France champagne, claret and burgundy; the sweet but heavy South Side’ of Medina; with hard hock of its best kind—Johannisberger. The savory meats tasted, eaten, and removed, the dessert with its adjuncts have been brought upon the though not habitually given to bibbing, the Chilian skipper enjoys his glass; and on this occasion takes half a dozen. It may be more. He is desirous of doing honor to his distinguished guests, and of giv- ing them pleasant entertainment, lis amiability is rewarded by success. In addition to having seen much of the world, he is by birth and education a gentleman. Although nothing more than skipper of a merchant vessel—a South Sea trader, at that—he is not one of the rude, swaggering sort, buta gentle creature, in seeming better befitted for the boudoir of a lady, than to stir among tarred ropes, or face the conflicting storm. So kind and good is he that his two fair passengers, in the short companionship of less than a month’s duration, have grown to regard him with affection. While he who is father of one, and grandfather of the eet, looks upon him in the light of a faithful friend, All three feel regret that they are so soon to part company with him. It is the only regret that casts a shadow over their spirits, as they sit conversing with him around a table so richly furnished for their gratification. Eating fragrant frults and sipping sweet wines, for the moment they forget it. All the easier listen- ing to the tales with which he essays to entertain them. He relates strange adventures he has had, on and around the shores of the great South Sea. Where could he have voyaged to meet with more romance? There he has encountered the fierce Fee- "ia and the New Caledonian, alike addicted to the iorrid habit of antnropophagy. There he has been a eet aga to the voluptuous cances of Samoa; and looked upon the daughters of Otaheite, whose whole life is love. With tales of the two extremes—symbols of man’s supreme happiness, and his most heartfelt misery—grim cannibals, and gay ues—he amuses his guests at the dinner-table, long detaining them over their desert, Enthralled by his narrative, naive as truthful—in correspondence with the character of the man—all three listen attentively. The senoritas are charmed: and, strange to say, more with his account of Fij and New Caledonia, than those relating to Otaheite or Hawaii. For to the last nam roup of islands have gone Edward Crozier and Willie wallader, These may there meet some of the brown-skinned vayaderes Captain Lautanas so enthusiastically de- scribes; meet, dance with, and admire them! Why may they not? -Oft during the voyage has Carmen recalled the sans facon of that parting in California. And always with pain. So also Inez; neither having yet had an explanation. Harry Blew had been approached in vain. No “ billetita,’’ had been intr to him, no message whatever. Both continue to regard the conduct of the officers as strange—something of a mystery. they hope to have it cleared up at iz aay ser ts fancies summoned up by the narrations of Captain Lautanas are fleeting as the shadows of summer clouds passing over the sun. They soon give place to pleasanter thoughts. And now that land is near and a seaport soon to be reached, they are this night peneually, elated; and searce think of the supposed neglect of their en- gaged lovers, n return they give confidence to the Chilian skip- ich He is even so far admitted into the family in- imacy as to be told of certain interesting intentions, how both are soon to become brides. Don Gregorio | has long since disclosed this intelligence, with much besides relating to his own fortune and affairs, and the Chilian, who hopes some day to carry the Condor _to Cadiz, is invited to visit them, and make their house his home. | Several hours are spent in pleasant converse, in- terrupted with song and music—for both senoritas sing, accompanying themselves with the guitar. oung ut as ggg nnn COCO RR eee roductions of a tropic and | This night its rays are reflected with more than or- | ; table; this including the wines above specified. Al- | | is gradually drawing to the beam, | s _ thinks of what may be doing on the tain Lautanas. And in the dishes there set, are the | Te TT TTT 27 Sy Then the ladies retire to their state-rooms, not for rest, but to robe themselves, with the design of tak- ing a turn on deck. The smooth motion of the ship, with the soft moonlight streaming through the cabin-windows, entices them to spend half an hour in the open air, before retiring for the night. Lautanas and Don Gregorio remain seated at the table. Warmed by the wine—of which both have partaken pretty freely—the skipper continues to pour his experiences into the ear of his passenger: while the latter listens with unflagging interest. Sip- ping choice canario, his favorite tipple, the former takes no note of aught that is passing around, nor Condcr’s deck. All night long has he forgotten her, and neglected the duties Soper ering to him in the direction of his ship, Somuch that he has failed to notice a rotatory _ motion of the cabin, or the table on which the deé- Around are seated the same guests, the captain, as | canters stand, or, if noting, has attributed it to the canario, disturbing the balance of his brain. But the cabin has revolved, the table along with it, to the extent of a three-quarter circle. Graduall has the movement been made; gently, for the sea is calm; silently, with no voice commanding in stento- rian tone, no pipe of boatswain, no song of sailors bracing round the yards, or lowering tacks and sheets. CHAPTER LVITI. LOOKING FOR LANDMARKS, Wirn all sail set the barque glides silently on; go- ing to her doom. omez has taken hold of the helm, and is guiding her—he alone having any knowledge of the coast, They are now less than a league from land, and shaving close along the outer edge of the coral reef, with no fear of going among the breakers, The land eee? blowing off, makes it easy to keep clear of them. Ree what he has said, Gomez is not so sure of his whereabouts. The compass can no longer serve him, nor is it regarded. He keeps his eyes upon the cliff line, endeavoring to recognize some landmark. He knows the coast of Veragua, but not this particular part of it. He is better ac- pga sp with the Bay of Panama and its shores, since there he has done most of the contraband he boasted of. His dislike to enter it was reasonable enough, The shore along which they are now running is desolate, with no likelihood of encountering shi 8. A coasting schooner, or fishing-smack, they might; but no cruiser to speak or chase them, For they are sailing alongside of a wide estuary, with no seaport of any note around it; quite out of the track of com- merce, A mountain has risen on the starboard bow and Gomez fancies he remembers it. Soon he is sure. For in the clear moonlight is disclosed a singular mountain eha e, that once seen will not be easily forgotten. It isa cerro with two summits, twin peaks having a deep depression, like a Spanish saddle between, As the barque brings it abeam, the moon low down, shin- ing through the hollow curvature, produces a stri- king effect. Gomez is certain he has seen that strangely-shaped cervo before. But, ho matter. Though a conspicuous landmark, it does not tell him where he can land; only that he is entering the great gulf that indents the Veraguan coast. As the mountain moves on toward the quarter, a reach of clear water opens inland. To all appear- ances, a bay with a mouth several miles in width, At sight of this he would run the barque into it; and is about putting the helm down for this pur- se. But no; he is forbidden by the breakers, which he can see extending across the entrance from cape to cape. They present a barrier too dangerous to be attempted even by a boat. He at once steadies the helm, and the Condor keeps her course. The open reach is run past, and the land is again bet a less than a enue. 180s irst appears a low project spit, and then th broader Atek of dark, continuous cliff. When —_ come fairly abeam, the steersman espies what he has been long looking for—an open space interrupt- ing nics? po of pa eh st is easily ss by the anquil surface of blue, contrasting with the w horse-tails that lash up on each sides ses On seeing this, some distance ahead, Gomez drops the wheel, passing the spokes to the Dutch sailor;: as he does 80, giving the latter directions how to Steer; as also what he. is to do, when steering shall be no longer needed. Then moving forward, he makes ready for the and coup—that part of it apportioned to him and ernandez, At the same time, the others are also en aged in maturing their preparations. Padillo and h party, Striker belonging to it, move briskly about the fore. castle, some carrying cords for tying up Captain Lautanas and his DEOr others axes and crow- pare ae keys with whic they intend to open the ockers. In the waist near the mainmast stands the mate, Davis beside him. In his hand, the Serer has a lantern alight; the latter a large auger, a mal- let, a ana Wr 2 ‘ one a oe of boring tools. They are close to the main hatchway, in i as ate the pore Feit Y: THRE CINE. 80 ere is no need for haste. The scuttling of a ship takes little time. It is but to drill 4 hole through her bottom timbers, and let the sea run in. She will sink, sooner or later, according to the size of the hole. Harry Blew does not seem anxious to hurry him- self. On the contrary he looks reluctant to go be- low. With the lit lantern concealed under the skirt of his ample dreadnaught, he stands in the shadow of the mast, as if ashamed to show his face, reflect- ing on his faithlessness. ome thought coming acrogs his mind, he steps to- ward the ship’s side, and looks over the rail, bring- ing the moon full upon him. Her soft, innocent beam falling athwart his guilty countenance again discovers on it an expression difficult toread. There are signs of more than one emotion; many mingling together, or succeeding each other, quick as the changing hues of the chameleon, or the radiations of the aurora. Now it seems cupidity: now more like remorse, and the dark shadow of despair, com <SiGoO Eboo