But before lying down, he summons the cook, and gives orders for a dinner—to be dressed in the very best style the ship’s stores can furnish; this in celebration of the event of having sighted land.
Then, stretching himself along a sofa, he is soon slumbering; profoundly, as one with nothing on his conscience to keep him awake.
For a time, the barque’s decks appear deserted. No one seen, save the helmsman at the wheel, and the second mate standing by his side. The sailors not on duty have betaken themselves to the forecastle, and are lolling in their bunks; while those of the working-watch—with no work to do—have sought shady quarters, to escape from the sun’s heat, now excessive.
The breeze has been gradually dying away, and is now so light that the vessel scarce makes steerage way. The only vigorous movements are those made by the Bornean apes. To them the great heat, so far from being disagreeable, is altogether congenial. They chase one another along the decks, accompanying their grotesque romping by cries equally grotesque—a hoarse jabbering, that sounds with weird strangeness throughout the otherwise silent ship. Except this, everything is profoundly still; no surging of waves, no rush of wind through the rigging, no booming of it against the bellied sails; only now and then a flap of one blown back, and aboard. The breeze has fallen to “light;” and the Condor, though with all canvas spread, and studding-sails out, is scarce making two knots an hour. This too with the wind well upon her quarter.
Still, there is nothing strange about the barque making so little way. What is strange, is the direction in which the breeze is now striking her. It is upon her starboard quarter, instead of the beam, as it should be; and as Captain Lantanas left it on going below!
Yet, since he went below, the wind has not shifted, not by a single point!
The barque must have changed her course; and indeed, has done this; the man at the wheel having put the helm up, instead of down, causing her to draw closer to the land, in direct contradiction to the orders of the captain!
Is it ignorance on the steersman’s part? No, that cannot be. Gil Gomez has the helm; and being a seaman, should know how to handle it. Besides, Padilla is standing beside him; and the second mate, whatever his moral qualities, knows enough for the “conning” of a ship; and cannot fail to observe that the barque is running too much inshore.
Why the skipper’s orders are not being carried out, is because they who now guide the Condor’s course, do not intend that her keel shall ever cleave the waters of Panama Bay.
Why, this is told by the speech passing between them: