In Strange Company: A Story of Chili and the Southern Seas

In three strides Veneda was beside him, and had clapped a revolver to his head.

"Look here, my uncivil friend," he said, "I don't want to make trouble in this house for my own sake, but if you don't tell me what you know, I swear I'll blow your brains out where you stand. That's cold-drawn biz, I reckon."

The man was silent for a moment, then a nervous little laugh came from under the sombrero.

"Marcos, do you think I am well enough disguised?"

It was Juanita!

Veneda could scarcely credit his senses, the deception was so perfect. But his admiration for her acting did not prevent his drawing her towards the door, whispering as he did so —

"It's wonderful! No one could possibly recognize you in than get-up. Now we must fairly jump for the harbour, or we'll be too late."

Closing the front door on another incident in their lives they set off towards the port. And what a night it was! All day long the city had been the scene of constant rioting, but now that darkness had fallen to cloak their misdeeds, the mob had grown proportionately bolder. From simple exuberance of spirits and foolish mischief, their behaviour had become that of fiends. Houses had been and were still being looted in every street; incendiary fires pierced the sky in all directions; and the crack of rifles, with the whine of bullets, sounded almost without cessation. Scarcely a street, moreover, but was strewed with the bodies of their victims, the greater portion of which were women.

Juanita's presence of mind was little short of marvellous; terrifying though the sights she was constantly compelled to witness must have been to her, only once did she betray a sign of fear. Leaving the street in which her house was situated, they passed by a narrow alley into another, which in its turn led them into an open square. This it was unfortunately necessary that they should cross, in order to reach a thoroughfare leading to the wharves. No sooner had they entered it than Veneda saw what a fatal mistake he had made. One glance told him that it was filled with the lowest scum of the Chilian mob, frenzied with debauchery and incendiarism. On the far side a row of houses blazed into the sky, while on that nearest to them a dense crowd of men and women, denizens of the most infamous quarters, were dancing the Cueca, or national dance, with a wildness absolutely indescribable. Twice while he watched, Veneda saw men draw revolvers, and shoot down without any reason save wanton cruelty the wretched women who leapt and gesticulated opposite them.

These sights were too much for Juanita. She tottered, and would have fallen in a faint, had not Veneda passed his arm beneath her poncho and sustained her. Almost beside himself with despair, he dragged her into a dark alley, and bade her sit down and rest until she felt able to proceed. Then they resumed their walk at increased speed. Time was more precious to them now than money; they could risk no more delays. It seemed an eternity since they had set out together!

But there was not much more before them. Turning a corner the cold sea breeze smote upon their faces, and a moment later the dark waters of the bay confronted them. Had they had time, and been so inclined, they might have stopped to offer up a prayer of thankfulness for their escape; but as it was they contented themselves with looking anxiously for something they expected to find awaiting them. Seeing nothing, Veneda gave a peculiar whistle, which, to his evident relief, was instantly answered from a mass of deep shadow to their left. A second later a ship's long-boat came into the starlight, and pulled towards the landing-place, the man steering standing up and peering towards them as if to make certain of their identity.

"Who are you?" he took care to ask before he brought the boat up to the steps, "and what do you want?"

"My name's Veneda," was the reply, "and I want a boat from the Island Queen."

Evidently this answer was deemed satisfactory, for the same voice replied —

"One moment, sir, and I'll bring her alongside. I've been waiting for you this hour past; the tide is serving, and the old man will murder me for being so long."

When the man in the bows had hooked on, Veneda escorted Juanita down the steps, and signed her to enter the boat. But this the person in command was disinclined to permit.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, civilly but firmly, "my instructions were to bring you off alone, and I cannot include any one else."

"Oh, that's all right, my good fellow, this gentleman is a personal friend, and I have arranged to take him on board with me."

"I'm very sorry, sir, but I cannot exceed my instructions; will you be good enough to step in yourself? There's no time to waste if we want to catch this tide."

"But I tell you my friend must accompany me," Veneda answered, at the same time stepping into the boat himself; "I will be responsible to the captain."

"No, sir, not another word, I cannot do it. My instructions were most explicit – one gentleman, and only one! Jackson, shove off!"

"Ah! I see how it is. One gentleman – exactly – but nothing was said about my wife."

The mate, for such it turned out later he was appeared completely mystified.

"Your wife! Where is she?"

"This lady is my wife," said Veneda, pointing to Juanita standing on the steps. "It was impossible for me to bring her through the town on a night like this in her own dress, so to ensure her safety I was compelled to make her wear a suit of mine. Juanita, my dear, convince this gentleman that you are only masquerading."

Her voice sounded very sweet and womanly as she said in English —

"Surely, sir, you will believe what my husband says?"

The mate scratched his head. He was in a dilemma, and he couldn't see his way out of it. At last he made up his mind.

"Well, sir, I'll risk it any way. Will you be good enough to step in, ma'am? I'm sorry to have made you wait, but the fault's with the captain for saying nothing about your coming."

Entering the boat, she took her seat opposite Veneda, and they pushed off. Before they had way on her, the sounds of a man running were heard upon the wharf, and next moment a strange figure came into view and bounded down the steps. It was none other than the Albino, under the influence of extraordinary rage; his long white hair floated in the wind, his arms worked with frantic gesticulations, and his voice shook with the violence of his passion. Fortunately for the fugitives he spoke in Spanish, a language with which neither the mate nor any of the boat's crew were familiar. He had caught sight of Veneda, and it was at him that his torrent of abuse was directed.

"Marcos Veneda," he cried, shaking his fist at the retreating boat, "thief! traitor! coward! – come back – come back, and give me what you've stolen from me!"

But his wrath was vain; the boat by this time was fifty yards from the steps, and under the strong arms of her crew was every moment increasing the distance.

He was not, however, to be baulked; securing another, he was soon in hot pursuit, rowing as though his very life, or rather £200,000, depended on it.

The Island Queen lay a good distance out, and when the boat containing Veneda and Juanita came alongside, Captain Boulger was on deck. Hastening to the gangway to receive his passenger, he was not a little surprised to see two.

"I'm right glad to see you at last, Mr. Veneda," he said. "But I can't say I counted on any one else accompanying you."

Veneda was prepared for this, and he beckoned the captain on one side. A minute later he rejoined Juanita with the information that the difficulty was satisfactorily settled. The mate went forward to attend to the raising of the anchor, and by the time the Albino's boat was within hailing distance, the schooner had got way on her, and was drawing quickly out of the harbour.

To say that that gentleman, when he realized his enemy was escaping him, was angry, would be to convey a very false impression of his state. He stood up in his boat, foaming at the mouth, unable to speak, and shaking his fist wildly at the vessel till she had passed out of sight. But, though he was so overcome with rage, he had not failed to notice the name painted in white letters across the stern – "Island Queen, Tahiti."

It was some time before he felt able to pull ashore. But when he did so, he said solemnly to himself —

"Marcos Veneda, I don't mind owning you're a very clever fellow; you seem, however, to have forgotten one thing. You've broken faith with one of the strongest organizations in the world. If it costs that Society every cent it's worth, if it has to chase you round the world, it will get the money back, and be even with you for this bit of treachery!"

CHAPTER VI

THE 'ISLAND QUEEN.'

Fortunately for the success of the escape from Valparaiso, the wind blew almost a hurricane from the schooner's most favourable quarter, and, as Captain Boulger was careful to impress upon his passengers, "the Island Queen hadn't her equal in the whole of the South Pacific for foot." (She was his own property, and for that reason, perhaps, he was rather inclined to over-estimate her capabilities.) In the present instance, however, she was called upon to put forward all her good qualities, for in spite of the large sum it had cost Veneda to charter him, the captain was fully aware of the risk he had taken upon himself, and he had therefore no desire that anything should occur to impede or delay his departure. As far as his own powers went he had small fear, for he was in every way a capable seaman; but he knew that it required not only considerable skill, but a fair amount of luck besides, to manœuvre successfully out of such an admittedly awkward harbour on a dark night.

Regarded in cold blood, the hairbreadth escapes of that evening read almost like a nightmare. Twice the schooner came unpleasantly near colliding with anchored vessels, and once they felt certain they had attracted the notice of a Congressionalist cruiser; for a voice hailed them out of the darkness as they swept past, and receiving no answer gave utterance to a succession of orders, which were followed by the shrill chirruping of a bosun's pipe. But though every moment they expected to see the flash of a gun, nothing occurred, and in half-an-hour they were clear of the land, steering a direct course across the Pacific for Tahiti, viâ Pitcairn Island.

Throughout the exit Veneda and Juanita remained side by side on deck, anxiously watching events. The experiences they had lately passed through supplied them with plenty to think about, while the repeated close things they were then undergoing served to remind them that they must not be in too great a hurry to believe themselves safe. Though they might count themselves almost out of the frying-pan, there was still the fire yawning to receive them, and both agreed it would be worse than death to be captured and taken back just when safety seemed within their reach.

With the recollection of the dangers they had passed through came the remembrance of the Albino on the wharf, and his exhibition of futile rage. A smile crossed Veneda's face as he recalled the scene, but it was instantly obliterated and succeeded by a scowl as he reflected that, in order to have been there at all, the dwarf must in some measure have become cognizant of their plans; and in that case it would not be beyond the bounds of possibility to suppose him aware of their destination. The outcome of these thoughts was a serious reflection. Could Juanita be in league with his enemy? He asked himself this question with a good deal of anxiety. That they had had dealings together in the past he was perfectly aware; what therefore more probable than that in such a gigantic enterprise as the present, where such a fortune was concerned, she should deem it the safest policy to stand in with both parties, and if possible to hoodwink and outwit both? With these thoughts in his mind he glanced at her as she stood clinging to the taffrail by his side, her fine figure swaying to every motion of the ship. No; he would not believe it. He told himself that, as far as beauty went, she was a queen among women, and that whatever happened he must not let her suspect he was anything but devotedly attached to her. Meanwhile he would set his brains to work to devise some scheme by which he might rid himself of her.

By this time only a few twinkling lights remained to them of Valparaiso. The loud churning of the water under her nose, and the boiling froth in her wake, evidenced the fact that the schooner was putting her best foot foremost. The breeze whistled merrily, and from the appearance of the sky there was every prospect of its continuing. Overhead the stars shone as only tropic stars can, and their myriad radiances were reflected in the coal-black water, till it had all the appearance of an ebony floor powdered with gold-dust. But they would not be reflected there long, for the sea was not now what it had been inside the bay. A heavy swell had set in, and the little vessel was beginning to roll unpleasantly; so much so, that once or twice Veneda had to clutch Juanita to save her from falling. Standing side by side, they watched the last signs of Chili vanish beneath the waves. As the land disappeared a sudden gust swept Juanita's broad-brimmed hat from her head away into the swirling darkness.

"Come, Juanita," Veneda said, slipping his arm through hers with the first real sign of protectorship he had shown, "this is no place for you; let me help you below."

But it was easier to talk of going below than actually to get there; for the schooner was heeling over at an angle that made walking almost impossible. Eventually, however, with the assistance of the mate, who had taken charge, to allow the skipper to obtain his supper, it was accomplished, and the shelter of the companion reached.

As they entered the cuddy, Captain Boulger emerged from his cabin, and with a bow made his passengers welcome. He was a tall man, thin as a lath, with a long, hatchet-shaped face, to which an idea of additional length was imparted by a carefully-trimmed goatee beard. His eyes, a peculiar shade of grey, peered at one from beneath enormous bushy eyebrows. His voice was deep and rumbling, his utterance slow and pedantic, and when he could think of nothing to say or was absorbed in anything, it was his habit to whistle quaint almost forgotten hymn-tunes, of which he had managed to acquire a wonderful collection.

Juanita was too much a woman of the world to have failed to note his weak point, and bearing in mind the peculiar nature of her position on board the schooner, and the need she might some day stand in of a friend, she resolved to address herself to his subjugation without unnecessary delay. On his side, in spite of her manly attire, he could not but admit her attractions, and when she complimented him on the sailing qualities of the Island Queen, she had laid the foundation of his capture.