A Desperate Voyage Part 11

Carew had by this time recovered his power for cool and rapid thought.

He had been in vain cudgelling his brain to explain to himself in what possible way the mate had contrived to discover his secret.

"Baptiste," he said firmly, "before moving from here, I wish you to clearly understand that you are not going to be my master because you happen to know something about my affairs; so put aside at once that insolent and familiar manner. If you presume too much on your knowledge and make me desperate, it will be the worse for you. Now tell me how have you acquired this knowledge?"

The mate replied in his old respectful tones. "I know you too well to seek to be your master. But I would rather not answer your question at present, captain. I promise you, when you have helped me to carry out my plan, that I will tell you everything."

"Does anyone else know as much as yourself concerning me?"

"Not a single individual. Have no fears on that score. No one suspects that you are other than you represent yourself to be. You are as secure from discovery as you were before I happened to learn the truth. I alone know what you are, and the price of my silence is a mere bagatelle. All I ask is that you benefit yourself and me by casting away from you some of your foolish scruples. Where is the logic of going so far and no farther? You have committed great crimes for a trifle. A large fortune is now within your grasp; but one little sin more, and you will be rich. Then you can afford to be virtuous for the rest of your life. You can endow churches; you can obtain absolution; you can--but I forget; you are a Protestant, and so must patch your soul up in your own way."

Carew shuddered, not in fear of the man before him, but at the thought of the relentless fate that was pursuing him. It seemed to him that this unscrupulous villain was the instrument of an offended Heaven, sent to hasten his destruction. It was vain for him to strive after repentance.

A wild despair, a feeling of angry revolt against the powers of good, possessed him. What did it matter now? the man argued, in his reckless mood. Destiny drove him to crime. Why resist in agony? Whatever new wickedness he should have to do, not his the fault, but that of this pitiless and unjust Fate.

"Baptiste, what is this plan that you propose?" he asked.

"Let us dine before we talk business," replied the mate, rolling himself another cigarette. "I am as thirsty as an Englishman and as hungry as a German."

They entered a tram and drove back towards the city; but while they were yet in the suburbs, Baptiste made a sign to Carew to descend, and they walked, the mate leading the way, down a narrow street of negro shanties, each surrounded by its little provision ground of bananas, yams, and ca.s.sava. Then they came to a very rough and disreputable neighbourhood, abounding in low grog shops, in which European sailors were courting Yellow Jack, by drinking poisonous rum. They reached a street which skirted the sh.o.r.es of the bay; and here, on the very edge of the water, there stood a stone house by itself.

"That is the tavern I spoke of," said the mate. Then a.s.suming his usual bantering tone, "It is a queer place. It will interest you, as an English milord travelling for his pleasure and instruction, to observe the humours of the place. It is the resort of the greatest villains of Rio--robbers, smugglers, and the like. The result is that it is an exceedingly quiet and respectable house. They dare not have rows in there; no drunkenness or thieving or kniving is allowed on those premises. Men frequent this cafe when bent on business, not on pleasure."

The interior of the house did not seem to be used for purposes of entertainment, for all the customers were congregated in a large arbour that lay against one side of the building, and faced the sea.

They entered this arbour, and sat down at one of the bare deal tables, and the mate, calling one of the waiters, a very evil-looking mulatto with one eye, selected some of the dishes out of the bill of fare.

The sun was setting, and the darkness came on with the suddenness of tropical lat.i.tudes. Two negroes proceeded to light a number of Venetian lanterns that festooned the cafe, and Carew, while he waited for his dinner, gazed with amazement at the scene before him.

A number of men were sitting at the tables, eating, drinking, and smoking. There were negroes, whites, and mulattos. They appeared to be of many nationalities. It would be almost impossible to see elsewhere a collection of more villainous faces. They sat for the most part in silence, as if avoiding each other's companions.h.i.+p; but at some of the tables were small groups, and here conversations were carried on in a low voice. There were no smiles to be seen; there was no noise; there were no signs of hilarity in all this a.s.semblage. An atmosphere of gloom and fear seemed to pervade the place. Occasionally one of these taciturn beings would glance suspiciously at the table where Carew and the mate were sitting. Guilt, dread, and hopelessness could be read on many a face. It might have been a supper of lost souls in the shades of Hades, but then--and it was this that, by its mocking contrast, lent a strange horror to the scene, as if it were some fantastic and dreadful nightmare--the melancholy feast was taking place in a very paradise.

The arbour was supported by lofty palms, and the sides of it were formed of a network of the most beautiful creepers, heavy with sweet blossoms and luscious fruits. The glittering sands of the seash.o.r.e formed the floor. Through the roof of feathery palm leaves the innumerable and brilliant stars of the Southern Hemisphere could be seen glowing out of the depths of night. A number of small tame birds of lovely red and yellow plumage fluttered about the arbour, and alighted on the tables in search of food. Glow-worms and fireflies gleamed like diamonds among the foliage, and outside was heard the splas.h.i.+ng of the tiny waves and the shrill cry of the cicala. The lavish tropical nature had made of this a fit palace for a fairy queen, and lo, it was a thieves' kitchen!

CHAPTER X

Having dined off some very greasy dishes served up with ca.s.sava or lentils, and seasoned with hot peppers in the Brazilian fas.h.i.+on, Carew and the mate lit their pipes, and the one-eyed negro brought them cups of black coffee and gla.s.ses of white native rum. The table at which they sat was at some distance from any other, so all risk of their conversation being overheard was obviated.

"All these men are thieves, you say?" said Carew, looking round at the strange a.s.sembly, on whose faces the Venetian lanterns cast a ruddy glow.

"Yes, thieves and murderers, all of them," replied the mate, "but well-behaved, quiet folk, as you see. One is safer here than in some of the flash cafes in the main streets of Rio."

"They carry their characters on their faces. I only see one in the whole crowd whom I would not instinctively distrust. Who is that tall, handsome old man with the long white hair and beard?"

"That is our worthy host," said Baptiste. "He looks like a mild, mediaeval saint, but there is much blood on his hands. I must introduce him to you, for he is a celebrated character in his way."

Baptiste caught the old man's eye, and beckoned to him to approach the table.

"Good-evening to you, Father Luigi. I think you understand French?"

The old man nodded an a.s.sent.

"I don't suppose you remember me? I have not been here for a very long time."

"I never forget a face that I have seen in my cafe," replied the host in French, with a strong Italian accent.

"This, Luigi, is my present captain, an English milord, travelling in his yacht; and this, captain, is the once well-known Roman brigand, Luigi Querini. Oh, an awful cut-throat in his time, I a.s.sure you."

Querini shook his head sadly. "But not so now, signor. I am getting old.

Heigh-ho, but those were grand days we had in the Abruzzi Mountains before Victor Emmanuel's gendarmerie spoilt Italy."

"Sit down and have a gla.s.s with us, Luigi," said the mate. "_Salud y pesetas_--health and dollars to you; that's an old River Plate toast.

Luigi knows Buenos Ayres well, captain. He'll tell us all about it."

"Yes, I know it too well," said the old man. "I was a soldier of the Argentine Republic, and lived on mare's flesh on the Indian frontier for four years."

"What made you do that?" asked Carew.

"I see you are a stranger to South America, sir. Understand, I was not a volunteer. I had a misfortune, and therefore was pressed into the army for punishment."

"To have a misfortune is a Pampas euphemism for having murdered a man,"

explained the mate.

"There is, as you know, no capital punishment in the River Plate,"

continued the Italian; "if a man kills another the penalty is so many years' service in the army."

"What a respectable army it must be," remarked Carew.

"It is so," said Baptiste. "They are wise people, those Argentines. If a man is addicted to homicide for his private ends, they turn him into a wholesale homicide for the public good. That may be called the h.o.m.oeopathic treatment of murder; like curing like."

Carew laughed boisterously at the mate's witticism, and the silent men at the tables round, hating the sound of merriment, turned their faces towards him and scowled savagely.

A species of intoxication had come to Carew. The strange sights and strong emotions of the day, the grotesque contrast presented by this lovely bower of pure blossoms and the foul and evil men who sat beneath it, confused his brain. His surroundings seemed so fantastically inconsistent--so unreal--that he felt as if he were some irresponsible being in a land of dreams, that it mattered not what he did. He was filled with a reckless joviality.

The mate had been watching him with his keen eyes. He knew what this exaltation of spirits indicated, and divined that the moment was opportune for the mooting of his diabolical scheme. In the present condition of his mental faculties, the captain's obstructive conscience would be partly paralysed, and he would be able to listen to the mate's proposals without overmuch shrinking horror. So the shrewd Frenchman, losing no more time, hinted to the host that his presence at the table was no longer needed, and Querini took himself off to hobn.o.b with another acquaintance.

Baptiste then stretched out his legs and said--

"This is very comfortable after having been cramped up so long on board that little boat of yours; but I hope, sir, to see you captain of a much larger vessel in a week or so at the latest."

"So we are coming to your wonderful scheme. Let me hear all about it."

"You remember, sir, that as we sailed into the bay this morning I pointed out a small barque to El Toro, and remarked how much she resembled the old _Vrouw Elisa_."

"I remember your words perfectly. You betrayed yourself."

"Intentionally, captain. We understand each other now; there are no secrets between us. Away with hypocrisy! Of course El Toro, El Chico, and myself formed part of the crew of the _Vrouw Elisa_. But it is unnecessary to recount to you our adventures on board that vessel."