“No, no,” exclaimed the captain, crossing himself at the name of that evil power—el Norte, “but quien sabe! God makes the weather, not we poor sailors.” And with another glance at the threatening line of cloud, he hurried away as though to avoid further conversation.
Presently the engines began to work again, though haltingly, like a lame mule, and as the morning drew on the day became clear and the thin black cloud vanished from the horizon. Towards three o’clock in the afternoon Molas, pointing to a low coast-line, and a spot on the sea where the ocean swell showed tipped with white, told us that yonder was the bar of the Grijalva river, and that behind it lay the village of Frontera, our destination.
“Good,” said the señor, “then I think that I will get my things on deck,” and going to his cabin he brought up a sack containing some wraps and food.
“Why do you fetch your baggage?” asked the captain presently, “you may want it to-night.”
“That is why I brought it up,” he answered. “I do not wish to land at Frontera with nothing.”
“Land at Frontera, señor? No one will land at Frontera from this ship for another six or seven days. We pass Frontera and run straight on to Campeche, which, by the blessing of the Saints, we shall reach to-morrow evening.”
“But I have taken tickets for Frontera,” said the señor. “The agent gave them to me, and I insist upon being put on shore there.”
“That is quite right, señor. All being well we shall call at Frontera this day week, and then you can go ashore without extra charge, but before this my orders are to put into no port except Campeche,—that is, unless a norther forces me to do so.”
“May the norther sink you, your ship, your agents, and every thing you have to do with,” answered the señor in so angry a voice, that the Mexican passengers who were listening began to laugh at the Englishman’s discomfiture, though the more thoughtful of them crossed themselves to avert the evil omen.
Then followed a storm, for the señor—whose temper, as I have said, was not of the coolest—raged and swore in no measured terms; the captain shrugged his shoulders and apologised; the passengers smiled; and, seeing that there was no help for the matter, I looked on patiently after the manner of my race. At length the captain fled, wiping his brow and exclaiming: