the Señor Montijo step into the Condor’s cabin, and see for himself?”
“By all means.”
Captain Lantanas leads down the stairway, his visitor following.
The saloon is inspected; after it the sleeping-rooms, right and left.
“Just the thing,” says Don Gregorio, speaking as in soliloquy, and evidently satisfied. “It will do admirably,” he adds, addressing himself to the skipper. “And now about terms. What are they to be?”
“That, señor, will depend on what is wanted. To what port do you wish me to take you?”
“Panama. ’Tis one of the ports mentioned in your advertisement?”
“It is, señor.”
“Well, for this freight – as I’ve told you, about a ton, with some trifling household effects – and the three passengers, how much?”
“The terms of freight, as you may be aware, are usually rated according to the class of goods. Is it gold, señor? From your description. I suppose it is.”
The skipper has guessed aright. It is gold, nearly a ton of it, accruing to Don Gregorio from the sale of his land, for which he has been paid in dust and nuggets, at that time the only coin in California – indeed, the only circulating medium, since notes were not to be had.
“Suppose it to be gold,” he answers guardedly, “how much then?”
The ex-ganadero is by no means a niggardly man; still, he would like to have his treasure transported at a rate not exorbitant. And yet he is anxious about its safety; and for this reason has resolved to ship it with secrecy in a private trading-vessel, instead of by one of the regular liners, that have already commenced plying between San Francisco and Panama. He has heard that these are crowded with miners returning home; rough fellows, many of them queer characters – some little better than bandits. He dislikes the idea of trusting his gold among them, and equally his girls, since no other ladies are likely to be going that way. He has full faith in the integrity of Captain Lantanas; knows the Chilian to be a man of gentle heart – in fact, a gentleman. Don Tomas has told him all this.
Under the circumstances, and with such a man, it will not do to drive too hard a bargain; and Don Gregorio, thus reflecting, at length confesses his freight to be gold bullion, and asks the skipper to name his terms.
Lantanas, after a moment spent in mental calculation, says:
“One thousand dollars for the freight, and a hundred each for the three passages. Will that satisfy you, señor?”
“It seems a large sum,” rejoins Don Gregorio. “But I am aware prices are high just now; so I agree to it. When will you be ready to sail?”
“I am ready now, señor – that is, if – ”
“If what?”
Lantanas, remembering his crewless ship, does not make immediate answer.
“If,” says the Spaniard, noticing his hesitation, and mistaking the reason – “if you’re calculating on any delay from me, you needn’t. I can have everything on board in three or four days – a week at the utmost.”
The skipper is still silent, thinking of excuses. He dislikes losing the chance of such a profitable cargo, and yet knows he cannot name any certain time of sailing, for the want of hands to work his vessel.
There seems no help for it but to confess his shortcomings. Perhaps Don Gregorio will wait till the Condor can get a crew. The more likely, since every other vessel in port is in a similar predicament.
“Señor,” he says at length, “my ship is at your service; and I should be pleased and proud to have you and your ladies as my passengers. But there’s a little difficulty to be got over before I can weigh anchor.”
“Clearance duties – port dues to be paid. You want the passage-money advanced, I presume? Well, I shall not object to prepaying it in part. How much will you require?”
“Mil gracias, Señor Montijo. It’s not anything of the kind. Although far from rich, thank Heaven, neither I nor my craft is under embargo. I could sail out of San Francisco in half-an-hour, but for the want of – ”
“Want of what?” asks Don Gregorio in some surprise.
“Well, señor – sailors.”
“What! Have you no sailors?”
“I am sorry to say, not one.”
“Well, Captain Lantanas, I thought it strange observing nobody aboard your ship – except that black fellow. But I supposed your sailors had gone ashore.”
“So have they, señor; and intend staying there. Alas! that’s the trouble. They’ve gone off to the gold-diggings – every one of them, except my negro cook. Likely enough, I should have lost him too, but he knows that California is now part of the United States, and fears that some speculating Yankee might make a slave of him, or that perchance he might meet his old master: for he has had one.”
“How vexatious all this!” says Don Gregorio. “I suppose I shall have to look out for another ship.”
“I fear you’ll not find one much better provided than mine – as regards sailors. In that respect, to use a professional phrase, we’re all in the same boat.”
“You assure me of that!”
“I do, señor.”
“I can trust you, Captain Lantanas. As I have told you, I’m not here without knowing something of yourself. You have a friend in Don Tomas Silvestre?”
“I believe I have the honour of Don Tomas’s friendship.”
“Well, he has recommended you in such terms that I can thoroughly rely upon you. For that reason, I shall now make more fully known to you why I wish to travel by your ship.”
The Chilian skipper bows thanks for the compliment, and silently awaits the proffered confidence.
“I’ve just sold my property here, receiving for it three hundred thousand dollars in gold-dust – the same I intended for your freight. It is now lying at my house, some three miles from town. As you must be aware, captain, this place is at present the rendezvous of scoundrels collected from every country on the face of the habitable globe, but chiefly from the United States and Australia. They live, and act, almost without regard to law; such judges as they have being almost as great criminals as those brought before them. I feel impatient to get away from the place; which under the circumstances, you won’t wonder at. And I am naturally anxious about my gold. At any hour a band of these lawless ruffians may take it into their heads to strip me of it – or, at all events, attempt to do so. Therefore, I wish to get it on board a ship – one where it will be safe, and in whose captain I can thoroughly confide. Now, you understand me?”
“I do,” is the simple response of the Chilian. He is about to add that Don Gregorio’s property, as his secret, will be safe enough, so far as he can protect it, when the latter interrupts him by continuing:
“I may add that it is my intention to return to Spain, of which I am a native – to Cadiz, where I have a house. That I intended doing anyhow. But now, I want to
