The Flag of Distress: A Story of the South Sea

“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 take departure at once. As a Spaniard, señor, I needn’t point out to you, who are of the same race, that the society of California cannot be congenial – now that the rowdies of the United States have become its rulers. I am most anxious to get away from the place, and soon as possible. It is exceedingly awkward your not having a crew. Can’t something be done to procure one?”

“The only thing is to offer extra pay. There are plenty of sailors in San Francisco; for they’ve not all gone to gather gold. Some are engaged in scattering it. Unfortunately, most are worthless, drunken fellows. Still it is possible that a few good men might be found, were the wages made sufficiently tempting. No doubt, an advertisement in the Diario, offering double pay, might attract as many as would be needed for working my ship.”

“How much would it all amount to?”

“Possibly an extra thousand dollars.”

“Suppose I pay that, will you engage the whole ship to me? That is, take no other passengers, or wait for any more freight, but sail at once – soon as you’ve secured a crew? Do you agree to these terms?”

“Si, señor; they are perfectly satisfactory.”

“I’ll be answerable for the extra wages. Anything to get away from this Pandemonium of a place.”

“In that case, señor, I think we’ll have no great difficulty in procuring hands. You authorise me to advertise for them?”

“I do,” answers Don Gregorio.

“Enough!” rejoins the skipper. “And now, Señor Montijo, you may make your preparations for embarking.”

“I’ve not many to make; nearly all has been done already. It’s only to get our personal baggage aboard, with the freight safely stowed. By the way,” adds the Biscayan, speaking sotto-voce, “I wish to ship the gold as soon as possible, and without attracting attention to it. You understand me, captain?”

“I do.”

“I shall have it brought aboard at night, in a boat which belongs to Silvestre. It will be safer in your cabin than anywhere else – since no one need be the wiser about the place of deposit.”

“No one shall, through me.”