California -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Western stories
Under the combined influence of the hour and the climate, the
conversation fell into monosyllables, and Mrs. Markham dozed. The lovers
sat silently together, but the memory of a kiss was between them. It
spanned the gulf of the past with an airy bridge, over which their
secret thoughts and fancies passed and repassed with a delicious
security; henceforth they could not flee from that memory, even if they
wished; they read it in each other's lightest glance; they felt it
in the passing touch of each other's hands; it lingered, with vague
tenderness, on the most trivial interchange of thought. Yet they spoke a
little of the future. Eleanor believed that her brother would not object
to their union; he had spoken of entering into business at Todos Santos,
and perhaps when peace and security were restored they might live
together. Hurlstone did not tell her that a brief examination of his
wife's papers had shown him that the property he had set aside for
her maintenance, and from which she had regularly drawn an income, had
increased in value, and left him a rich man. He only pressed her hand,
and whispered that her wishes should be his. They had become tenderly
silent again, as the Excelsior, now fairly in the bay, appeared to be
slowly drifting, with listless sails and idle helm, in languid search of
an anchorage. Suddenly they were startled by a cry from the lookout.
"Sail ho!"
There was an incredulous start on the deck. The mate sprang into the
fore-rigging with an oath of protestation. But at the same moment the
tall masts and spars of a vessel suddenly rose like a phantom out of the
fog at their side. The half disciplined foreign crew uttered a cry
of rage and trepidation, and huddled like sheep in the waist, with
distracted gestures; even the two men at the wheel forsook their post to
run in dazed terror to the taffrail. Before the mate could restore order
to this chaos, the Excelsior had drifted, with a scarcely perceptible
concussion, against the counter of the strange vessel. In an instant a
dozen figures appeared on its bulwarks, and dropped unimpeded upon the
Excelsior's deck. As the foremost one approached the mate, the latter
shrank back in consternation.
"Captain Bunker!"
"Yes," said the figure, advancing with a mocking laugh; "Captain Bunker
it is. Captain Bunker, formerly of this American barque Excelsior, and
now of the Mexican ship La Trinidad. Captain Bunker ez larnt every
foot of that passage in an open boat last August, and didn't forget it
yesterday in a big ship! Captain Bunker ez has just landed a company
of dragoons to relieve the Presidio. What d'ye say to that, Mr.
M'Carthy--eh?"
"I say," answered M'Carthy, raising his voice with a desperate effort to
recover his calmness, "I say that Perkins landed with double that number
of men yesterday around that point, and that he'll be aboard here in
half an hour to make you answer for this insult to his ship and his
Government."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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