He was accustomed to hearing it daily on shipboard as it marked the passing hours and changing watches, but even there it never failed to thrill responsive chords in some dim recess of his soul. Until now, however, it had not been heard as far inland as the camp. The fresh breeze blowing across the bay and the silence of night were conditions peculiarly favorable, thought Cary, but he stood in an attitude of strained attention.
Dong-dong—dong-dong!
Four bells! Richard Cary scratched a match and looked at his watch. The hands pointed to a quarter after nine. By the ship’s time, two bells had struck and it was not yet three bells.
Dong-dong—Dong-dong!
The galleon bell tolled again, Four bells! So far away and yet so dangerously insistent, as loud in his ears as though he stood upon the ship’s deck. He seemed also to hear Teresa’s voice attuned in harmony with it, to hear her saying in the patio:
“There is something about this old bell, very queer, but as true as true can be. If anything very bad is going to happen to the one it belongs to, this bell of the Nuestra Señora del Rosario strikes four times, dong-dong, dong-dong. Four bells, like on board a ship. When there is going to be death or some terrible bad luck! It has always been like that, ’way, ’way back to my ancestor Don Juan Diego Fernandez.”
While Richard Cary listened, the bell sounded its warning once more, and then was mute. He was not dreaming, nor was he under the spell of those visions which had so often disquieted him. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the tents, the bare cliff, the yellow streaks of gravel. The sailors were asleep in their tents. For a long moment he stood bewitched and helpless. He refused to believe and yet he dared not disobey. He was pulled two ways. Common sense flouted it. What shook him free of this trance was the voice of Ramon Bazán who called out piteously. Cary ran to the tent and found the old man sitting up in his cot.
“Thank God, you have come, Ricardo. In my sleep I had a fearful dream. Four bells! I heard it and then I was awake, and I thought I heard it again. I feel very sick. Has the time come for me to die? You didn’t hear any four bells, did you, Ricardo? I am shaking all over.”
“Nonsense, Papa Bazán,” exclaimed Ricardo, patting the bony little shoulder. “I heard the bell, but it just happened that the wind brought the sound to us. Four bells? Perhaps the ship rolled in a ground swell and swung the clapper.”
“Then you did hear it, too?” quavered Ramon, clutching Ricardo’s arm. “It is no nonsense, not when the bell sounds like that. We must get out of this camp and go back to the ship. It is the safest place to be. Not for six million dollars will I stay here to-night. We must all go to the ship, I tell you. Will you take care of me, Ricardo?”