“O, not before we get to San Francisco; when, you know, I must leave you all, and make my way home overland.”
From this reply, it will be understood that I was but a passenger on the Southern Hope. I was travelling, indeed, for pleasure and health combined, but had been altogether nearly a year and a half in this hitherto happy ship; which had been baby’s birthplace, for little Oceana was born on the ocean wave. Hence her name, which we always pronounced ’Theena.
“No, my dear Mrs. Herbert,” I continued, “those boxes contain greater treasures than ever were brought from the diamond mines of Golconda; treasures more beautiful, and rarer far than all the gold in rich Peru.”
“Well, Robert,” said the captain laughing heartily, “they are heavy enough for anything; and by St. George and merry England, my friend, you do well to keep such treasures in your own cabin.”
I was at that moment engaged fashioning some marvellous toy for Bernard from a piece of orange peel, but happening to look up I found the evil, sinister eyes of Roderigo the steward fixed on me with a look I did not half like.
I took occasion that same evening to ask Mrs. Herbert some particulars of this man’s history; for he had not been in the ship when I left it. She had little to tell me. James, the old steward, had run away or mysteriously disappeared somehow or other at Callao, and the very next day this Roderigo had applied for the situation. Captain Herbert had waited for his steward for a whole week; but as there were no signs of his coming, and no trace of him on shore, it was concluded he had gone to Lima. So, as he seemed eminently fitted for the duties of the post, the half-caste Spaniard was installed in his place. He proved to be all they could desire, Mr. Herbert continued, although he certainly was not handsome; but he was very fond of Bernard, and doated on baby ’Theena. I asked no more, but I felt far from content or easy in my mind.
We left Callao at last, and proceeded on our voyage to San Francisco. The Southern Hope was a good sea vessel; so our voyage was favourable, though the winds were light until we reached the equator, which we crossed in baffling winds, about 85° west longitude. We soon got enveloped in dense wet fogs, and for days it was all but a dead calm. A breeze sprang up at last, however, and we kept on our course, and by and by the sky cleared and we saw the sun.
None too soon; for not ten miles to the east of us loomed the rocky cliffs of Northern Ecuador. They could be none other, yet why were we here?
Captain Herbert could not understand it for a time. He was as good a sailor as ever stood down the English Channel or crossed the far-famed Bay of Biscay. He was not left long in doubt, however.
There was villainy on board. Treachery had been at work, and the compass had been tampered with.