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

"You lie!" shrieked the Albino, dashing at him and clutching him by the throat. "That be hanged for a tale. It's only one of your damned dodges to put us off the scent. Where is it? Tell me, or I'll throttle you!"

"I assure you it's the truth," gasped the unfortunate banker, half strangled. "I will even tell you his name."

The Albino withdrew his hand.

"Now, what was it? Quick!"

"Let me think. I fancy it began with V – Veneda, or some such name. Of course I did not ask, but he allowed it to slip from him in his excitement. He was a most gentlemanly person, and interested me exceedingly."

"Nonsense! I won't believe it; he dared not do it. But, Marcos Veneda, you thieving traitorous hound, by God, if this be true it will prove the worst day's work you've ever done in your life."

Then in Spanish he explained what had happened to Vargas, whose rage was absurdly theatrical. He danced and swore, tore his hair and ground his teeth in an ecstasy of passion.

"Stop that nonsense," said the Albino. "We must search the house as quickly as possible, and if it's not here, find Veneda without a moment's delay. Now we see why he wanted us to spare him. It strikes me we've been sold, and badly too."

Without further ado they set to work. But they might have spared themselves the trouble. The money was undoubtedly gone – the cache had been rifled, and the treasure stolen. The Albino's rage surpassed description; he vowed such vengeance against the traitor that even Vargas was overwhelmed with terror. Suddenly they looked round for the banker. He was not to be seen. Taking advantage of their absence in another room, he had passed into the yard and quietly quitted the house.

"Never mind him," said Macklin, "he's no use to us now. We must collect every man we can lay our hands on, and search the town until we find Veneda. If he escapes, I'll be the death of somebody."

CHAPTER V

THE ESCAPE FROM CHILI

It was nearly seven o'clock when Veneda bade farewell to the ruins of the house, in connection with which he had undergone such a variety of experiences; and, as I have already said, at half-past he had arranged to effect his escape from Chili. Now, though he was aware that there was no possible chance of his being able to get out of it, he was nevertheless much concerned about the wisdom of taking Juanita with him. He could not help seeing that by including a woman in his plans he was hampering his own freedom of action, and thus imperilling his one chance of safety; but on the other hand he could hit out no way of disposing of her, and since she possessed a large portion of his secret, it would be the most criminal folly possible to leave her behind to join the ranks of those who, he felt convinced, would ultimately pursue him from Chili. There were, besides, other and more cogent reasons against this latter course.

Though it was not a great distance to her abode, it took him some time to reach it. He had no desire to attract attention by any undue hurry; and for the same reason, when he did arrive at the house he made no attempt to gain admittance until he had absolutely convinced himself that he had not been followed. Then, crossing the patio, he knocked.

Juanita herself opened the door. When she realized who the visitor was she uttered a little cry of welcome, and led the way into an inner room, carefully closing the door behind them.

"Marcos," she began, lifting her clasped hands to him, "you really meant what you said last night? You are here to take me away with you?"

"Did you think I should break my promise?" he answered almost angrily, his disappointment at finding her unprepared getting the better of him. "Why are you not ready? Every second is of the utmost importance to us. As it is, we shall only just catch the tide."

"Wait only a moment and I will be with you; just one little moment."

She fled the room, and for five minutes he was left to his own thoughts. They were not pleasant, a consuming impatience was upon him. He knew that his very life depended upon the next half-hour, and now it looked as if he were about to lose everything because a woman had misunderstood a plain speech. Every moment found him more and more angry. At length, unable to control himself any longer, he was in the act of going to look for her, when a heavy footstep approached the room. The door was thrown open and a man entered, clad after the same fashion as himself. The behaviour of this individual was not conciliatory. Casting a quick look at Veneda standing by the window, he said gruffly —

"Your business here, senor?"

"I am waiting for a friend."

"The Senora Juanita perhaps?"

"Perhaps."

"Then you will wait a long time, for she has gone."

Veneda almost shouted in his surprise. In a second all sorts of treachery had flashed through his brain.

"Gone!" he cried. "What the devil do you mean? Where's she gone?"

"Who knows?" the other replied airily, giving his narrow shoulders a slight shrug. "I allow it's her own business where she goes, not mine, thank God."

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.

On the skipper's return to the deck, the mate, whose name by the way was Crawshaw (a Hampshire man he called himself, though he confessed to never having been in England in his life), descended in search of supper. He was a nice-looking young fellow, well set up, very muscular, and tanned by constant exposure the colour of mahogany. Seeing Veneda and Juanita at the table he doffed his cap politely, at the same time jerking out an embarrassed "Good-evening," as though he had not seen them five minutes previously.

"It seems to be freshening up," Veneda remarked, for the sake of saying something. "The schooner rides easier than I would have expected considering what she's carrying. By the way, have you such a thing as a cabin-boy aboard?"

Jamming an enormous piece of salt junk into his mouth, Crawshaw rose to his feet, and, without a word, vanished up the companion-ladder, to reappear a few minutes later with a shock-headed, shambling urchin, of about sixteen years of age. Cuffing him towards Veneda, he said sheepishly, as though ashamed of possessing so much knowledge —

"His name's Nicodemus, – 'Old Nick' they call him forrard; he knows all about everything, and he's a son of a gun for laziness. Can I make him do anything for you?"

Veneda explained that he desired to see and arrange their respective cabins. Whereupon Crawshaw resumed his cuffing of the boy, remarking —

"Now, you young swab, turn to and get those berths cleaned out, or I'll break every second rib in your body; d'ye hear me now?"

The Island Queen boasted four cabins aft, the dimensions of which were about half those of the smallest pattern prison-cells, and were evidently intended to contain human beings of less than the average size. The captain had his furthest aft on the starboard side, the mate that nearest the companion on the port. Juanita had therefore one on either hand to choose from. She ultimately decided upon that adjoining the skipper's; Veneda taking the berth next to Crawshaw. It was a fortunate thing for both of them, but especially for Juanita, who otherwise would have been compelled to make the whole voyage to Tahiti in man's attire, that Veneda had been able to have a small quantity of luggage conveyed on board. By the time her cabin was prepared, and her comfort as far as possible assured, it was nearly eleven o'clock, and she expressed herself ready for bed. Bidding her "good-night," Veneda lit a cigar in the cuddy and returned to the deck.

It was a perfect night, with hardly a cloud visible in the whole length and breadth of the sky. The wind still blew fresh and strong, and now and again sharp dashes of spray rattled on the deck like hail. As she had everything in her favour, the schooner's motion was comparatively steady. Looking about him, Veneda spied the captain leaning against the taffrail; on crossing, he found him whistling "The Old Hundredth" with exceptional fervour.

"A fine night, Captain Boulger," he said, proffering a cigar; "if this weather continues, we shan't be long picking up Tahiti."

"Not if it does," the skipper replied, taking a squint aloft at the bellying canvas; "but don't you reckon we're always going to be as lucky as this. It's not all plain sailing across these waters, especially at this time of year, I can tell you."

"Well, at any rate I must congratulate you on the way you got us out of the harbour; it was a fine bit of seamanship."

"It's all very well for you to say so, Mr. Veneda," the skipper continued, lugubriously. "But what about the next time I want to go into Valparaiso; d'you think they won't remember me for this? I'll be boycotted for ever."

"Well, and if you are, you've been well paid for the unpleasantness, my friend, so we'll hear no more on that score."

"And this lady, your wife you make her. Of course I don't say anything about that. But nothing was ever mentioned about females in the contrac'. How much is it to be for her?"

"Half as much as for myself; I thought we were agreed upon that."

"Well, well, I suppose it must be so, but in my opinion it's dirt cheap at the money. And, look here, Mr. Veneda, my mate tells me something about a grey-haired chap who wanted to come off too. Now what about him?"

"Never you mind about him, he won't trouble you. We've done with him for ever."

"Don't you be too sure of that; if he wants you so badly that he had to pull off after you, he's not going to let you slip so easily; and what's more, if he knows the name of your boat, he'll nail you by cable in Tahiti as soon as winkin'. There are more ways of killing a cat than choking him with butter, Mr. Veneda."