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XXVIII.
TWO CONFERENCES

So strongly were the sympathies of the crew with Sturdy, more especially since he had shown himself capable of such disinterested and heroic self-sacrifice, and so decidedly were their feelings enlisted against Antonio, who acted like a fiend rather than a man in the execution of the welcome duty assigned him by the captain, that this sudden turning of the tables, the summary revenge taken by Bill Sturdy in return for the additional blow Antonio had inflicted, was greeted with a triumphant shout from the sailors, which seemed to spring from them spontaneously.

Captain Brace bit his lip, and Randall's face darkened with rage. They felt that the humiliation which they had intended for Bill Sturdy had recoiled upon the head of their own agent.

The worst of it was they could not prudently resent it. Antonio had in the eyes of all been guilty of a glaring offence in exceeding his orders, and had justly brought upon himself the punishment he had received. However, the justice or injustice of the matter would have weighed little with Captain Brace if he had not been assured that it would not be safe for him to go further. The law, at the time of which I am speaking, gave almost unlimited power to the commander of a vessel over the lives and liberties of those who were placed under him, yet most were aware that there was a point at which it was wise to pause. At the commencement of the scene, there had been audible murmurs among the crew, the significance of which the captain and mate would understand. The habit of subordination, and the knowledge that this was in a certain sense a voluntary act on the part of Bill Sturdy, had prevented anything more, but if the captain had gone to greater extremities, the consequences might have been serious.

Meanwhile Antonio picked himself up, smarting under the terrible wounds which had been inflicted by the lash wielded with the whole of Bill Sturdy's enormous strength. Indeed, although he had received but two stripes, and his enemy thirteen, it may be doubted whether the pain inflicted by those two were not equal to that of the greater number.

Antonio had slunk down into the forecastle to bathe his back and obtain fresh clothes, for his shirt had been rent asunder. Bill Sturdy, on the other hand, proceeded to attire himself on deck and went about his work, without showing outwardly the pain which he must have been suffering.

Captain Brace took no public notice of the retribution which had followed the punishment. He didn't dare to act as he wished, and therefore chose to pass it unnoticed. But an hour afterwards, as he sat in conference with the mate, his fury burst the bounds he had imposed upon it.

"Curse that fellow!" he exclaimed. "Is he forever destined to thwart my designs? I felt that I could willingly have flogged him myself till the last breath left his body."

"It is a pity Antonio ventured to exceed his orders."

"Yes, the fool was richly repaid for his act, but I could wish it had been by a different hand."

"That extra blow gave Sturdy a pretext for his summary vengeance. But for that his conduct could have been construed into mutiny and disrespect to you."

"And then I might have put him in irons."

"You might do it now, but for–"

"But for the crew, you would say. That alone prevents me. The fellow, unluckily, has secured their sympathy. Would that I could devise some way for taking vengeance safely upon this rebellious scoundrel."

The mate leaned his head upon his hand, and gave himself up to reflection. Something occurred to him, for lifting his head again, he asked,—

"Have you ever been in Rio Janeiro, Captain Brace?"

"Never but once, and that some nine or ten years since."

"There are desperadoes in that city, as in others," pursued Randall, fixing his eyes intently upon the captain.

"I do not quite catch your meaning, Mr. Randall."

"Men who are little troubled by conscientious scruples, but are willing to undertake the most dangerous and illegal enterprises—for small consideration.

"I begin to understand you now," said the captain.

"Shall I proceed?"

"Do so."

The mate rightly construed this into an intimation that his proposition, though hinting at crime, would not prove distasteful to the captain. This, knowing the character of his superior officer, did not surprise him, and he proceeded.

"I think you apprehend my meaning, Captain Brace. This man is a thorn in our sides. He is exerting a bad influence on board the ship. He is undermining your influence with the crew."

"That is all true, Mr. Randall. What, then, is your advice in this state of affairs?"

"My advice is, that this fellow should be removed."

"To a place better fitted for him," suggested the captain, with a grim smile.

"Precisely so."

"And through the agency of such men as you have spoken of?"

"That is my proposition."

"It deserves thinking of. May I ask if you have any acquaintance among the fraternity, or whether you have ever had any occasion to employ their services?"

"I did on one occasion."

"Do you mind giving the particulars?"

"To you, no. Some years since I shipped as common sailor on board the Porcupine, bound from New York to Rio. On the voyage one of the sailors on several occasions insulted me, and I determined upon revenge. At Rio I fell in with a desperate character, who for a comparatively small sum engaged to do my bidding."

"Well?"

"There is not much to tell. One night this man was passing through a narrow street, quite unsuspicious of danger, when he was suddenly struck from behind by a bludgeon, and—he never came back to the ship."

"Did no suspicion attach to you?"

"How should there? Who was to betray me? Not my agent, or in so doing he would betray himself. This is the first time I have ever spoken of it, but I am safe with you."

"Perfectly. You say the consideration was small."

"Fifty dollars only. I dare say the fellow considered himself well paid. Besides he took whatever his victim had about him."

"Thank you for the suggestion, Mr. Randall. I will furnish the money, if you will undertake the management of the business when we reach Rio."

"With pleasure," replied the mate, and he probably spoke the truth.

While this conversation was going on, Charlie in another part of the vessel was commiserating Bill Sturdy on his injuries.

"And it was on my account, too," said the boy, regretfully.

"Better me than you, my lad," said the old sailor stoutly. "Don't trouble yourself about that. It was my own free will, and if I had been unwilling all the power of the captain couldn't have made me submit to it. Besides there was one thing that repaid me for it all. Antonio got something he'll remember to the latest day of his life, I reckon. However that ain't what I want to say now. It's just this. I haven't any particular inducements to stay aboard this vessel, and I've about made up my mind to give them the slip at the first port we come to, if you'll go with me."

"Where do we touch first?"

"At Rio, I surmise."

"I'm ready to go with you, Bill, whenever you say the word," said Charlie, promptly.

"That's right, my lad."

And so the agreement was made.

XXIX.
DANGER THREATENS BILL STURDY

It is my intention to pass rapidly over the time which intervened between the events which have been described, and the arrival of the Bouncing Betsey at Rio Janeiro. Nothing happened of sufficient interest to call for record.

As for our hero and Bill Sturdy, their position was, unquestionably, more agreeable and less disturbed by incidents than before. This was not owing to any change in the feelings of the captain and mate, but in consequence of the iniquitous compact into which they had entered. They felt secure of ultimate vengeance; they could, therefore, afford to wait. Indeed, they felt that they should be more likely to secure the end they had in view if, for the present, they should so act as to lull asleep any suspicions which might be entertained of their agency in the affair after it was over.

But Bill Sturdy was not deceived. He determined to keep his "weather-eye open," as he expressed it, and be on the lookout for squalls.

So the time passed.

It was a bright, tropical day. The thick garments which all had worn on leaving port were laid aside, and every one was dressed in light and thin attire.

"We shall probably reach Rio to-morrow, Mr. Randall," observed the captain.

"Yes; if the present wind holds, there can be no doubt of it."

"And the little plan which we have been contemplating need no longer be delayed."

Randall smiled acquiescence.

The wind held favorable, and the next evening saw them in port.

The captain and mate went on shore, leaving the vessel in charge of the second mate.

We have nothing to do with the motions of the captain, but will follow Randall, who, never backward in ill-doing, at once set about the execution of his scheme.

Having been in the city before, he was well acquainted with localities, and therefore was able to direct his steps at once to that quarter where he felt he was most likely to meet the man he was in quest of.

He entered a low drinking-saloon, and ordered a glass of liquor, partly to gratify his taste, partly that while drinking he might have leisure to look about him.

It was a low, square room, dark and unsightly, frequented evidently by the lowest ranks only. At this time there was but one man present besides Randall.

This man was tall, low-browed, with shaggy black eyebrows, and a face on which villainy was stamped in Nature's plainest and most ineffaceable characters.

"There's a man," thought the mate, "that will serve my turn, and, to judge from his looks, will be troubled by no unnecessary scruples on the subject."

Meanwhile, the other, lifting his eyes from the glass, had observed his close scrutiny, and chose to take offence at it. He rose from his seat, and, advancing towards Randall, observed, in a menacing tone, "It appears to me, señor, that you are impertinent."

Randall understood the language in which this was spoken, and coolly inquired, "How so?"

"You have been staring at me as if you had some particular object in it."

"So I have," returned the mate, in the same tone as before.

"Explain yourself, señor, and if, as I mistrust, you mean to insult me, I will make you better acquainted with my good knife," and he tapped the knife significantly.

"It is an acquaintance which I do not court," said Randall, shrugging his shoulders. "But it appears to me that it is not well talking without something to moisten the throat. I shall be happy to have you drink with me."

"I beg your pardon, señor, for my suspicions, which, I see, were wrong. I see that you are a gentleman. Henceforth I will treat you as such."

"I thought you would learn to know me better," said Randall, filling both glasses; "let me drink to our better acquaintance."

Both sat down very amicably. The glass had made them friends.

"I should like to ask your advice on a certain point," said Randall.

"I will give it with pleasure."

"I have an enemy—a deadly foe—whom I detest. What would you do if you were in my place?"

"You say he is your deadly foe?"

"Yes."

"I would give him a passport to another world. That is my advice."

"And you would feel no compunctions?"

"No more than if I were crushing a spider."

"I will own, then," said Randall, "that I have thought of this, but it is difficult for me to act in the matter."

"Then hire another to do it."

"Ah, if I could only find some brave man who would undertake the job."

"Well?"

"I would engage him to do it for me, if–"

"Well?"

"If we could agree upon the terms."

"You need seek no further for your man, then," said the stranger, gulping down another glass.

"How is that?" asked Randall, pretending not to understand him fully.

"Because, you see before you one who is willing to undertake it."

"You?"

"And why not?"

"Certainly, there is no good reason."

"Now tell me about it."

"First, let us settle about the price to be paid."

"As you please."

After some little discussion this was finally fixed at sixty dollars. For this paltry sum, added to the booty which he might find upon the person of his victim, this miserable man was willing to commit one of the worst of crimes.

"Now," continued the mate, "I must give you some directions which will enable you to identify the person."

"Is he a sailor?"

"He is."

"On board what ship?"

"The Bouncing Betsey."

"Lying where?"

Randall indicated the wharf at which the vessel was moored.

"Now describe the man."

"He is rather below the common height, broad-shouldered, extraordinarily strong; in fact such a Hercules that it will be well for you to take him by surprise."

"This will make me equal with him," said the Brazilian, displaying his knife.

"That and the darkness."

"When shall I be likely to meet him?"

"He will receive permission to come on shore to-morrow night," said Randall. "You must be hovering about the vessel, and watch the sailors as they come from the ship. When you see him, you will follow him."

"Trust me for that."

"And when all is over, and you furnish me evidence that you have done the deed, the money shall be yours."

"I require a portion in advance. How do I know but you will play me false?"

"My good friend, I should expect, in that case, to become your victim. However, your request is reasonable. You shall have one third of the sum stipulated in advance."

He placed twenty dollars in the hands of his companion, and, rising, paid his score. He then betook himself to the ship, and, on the arrival of Captain Brace, acquainted him with the result of his visit. The latter expressed great satisfaction.

Meanwhile Bill Sturdy and Charlie were speaking of the plan they had in view,—that of escaping from the ship.

"Suppose," said Charlie, "we cannot obtain permission to go on shore together."

"Then I will come to the wharf at midnight, and you can leave your bunk unobserved and join me."

XXX.
THE PASS OF DEATH

"Have I permission to go on shore, Captain Brace?" inquired Bill Sturdy on the following morning.

"I shall require your services on board during the day," said the captain, acting in accordance with the suggestion and arrangements of the mate. "At nightfall you can go if you like."

Charlie, learning from Bill Sturdy, the result of his application, did not prefer a request till evening. His request was unceremoniously refused. The Captain had no desire that our young hero should be present at the assault upon Bill, as his presence might prevent the attack being made, and its success, in consequence of Sturdy's great strength, depended on its unexpectedness.

"Never mind," said Bill, in a low voice, "wait till midnight. Meanwhile I will be seeking out a proper place of concealment. When the Cathedral clock strikes midnight, rise quietly and take a bundle of clothes, if you can do it unobserved, and jump upon the wharf. I will be waiting for you."

Cheered by this hope, Charlie was content to wait.

He went below, and opening his chest, put together in a bundle the clothes which he had on when he went on board the vessel for the first time. His little preparation having now been made, he sat down and commenced a letter to his mother which it was his purpose to mail in the city, to be completed when the result of his attempt to escape should be known.

We must now follow the movements of the villain with whom Randall had conferred. He had no idea of failing to carry out his part of the contract. Aside from the pecuniary inducement, his savage temper and utter want of principle, made him rather court such adventures, even for their own sake. Just before nightfall he stationed himself at a point on the wharf where he would have an opportunity of observing all that went on board the vessel.

With his keen eyes he scrutinized the forms of the sailors with a view of verifying Randall's description, and so picking out the one who was destined to be his victim. Circumstances conspired to lead him to a wrong conclusion upon this point.

Bill Sturdy was, at that time, below, making preparations to go on shore. It has already been remarked, that previous to his enrolment among the crew, Antonio had been, physically the most powerful among them. Although inferior to Bill Sturdy, yet he possessed a formidable amount of strength, and on board most vessels might have challenged comparison with any. But if Antonio was one in a hundred, Sturdy was one in a thousand. Seldom, very seldom, is there concentrated in the human frame so much power as he possessed. He would not have been found unequal to the feats of strength which have made famous the name of Richard Cœur de Lion, the English king, who won, in so remarkable a degree, the chivalrous respect and affection of the English people, and whose feats still live in the pages of the greatest of modern romances.

Antonio was, in form, not altogether unlike Bill Sturdy. At all events, the resemblance was so great that the mate's description of Sturdy might easily be supposed to apply to him. Hence, when the Brazilian cast a scrutinizing glance over the persons of the crew, he at once selected Antonio as the one intended.

"That is the fellow," he muttered. "He looks powerful, but my good knife will prevent his being dangerous to me, provided I steal upon him from behind, and give him one sharp, decisive blow."

Bill Sturdy was not the only one permitted to go on shore that evening. Several others had similar permission extended to them, leaving behind only enough to keep the proper watch on board the vessel.

A company, including Antonio, left the vessel together some five minutes before Bill Sturdy made his appearance. The Brazilian, fixing his attention upon him, followed them at a little distance, cautiously avoiding the appearance of doing so, lest he might attract observation. He did not expect to carry out his design at present, partly because it was not yet dark, and partly also because he wished to wait till Antonio was alone. He was resolved to keep him in view, for hours, if need be, until a favorable opportunity should present itself for the commission of the crime he meditated.

The first place the men visited was a low drinking saloon, situated on a street considered hardly reputable. It was not long before they became noisy and drunk.

One by one they staggered out of the drinking-saloon. Among the last to go was Antonio. He had probably drank more than any of his comrades, but he had a strong head, and showed his potations less in his gait than many of the rest. He walked out with a steady step, somewhat to the disappointment of the Brazilian, who had been keeping vigilant guard, and relied upon the effects of the liquor to make him an easier conquest.

It was already dark, but the street was too public, and he would be too liable to interruption and detection to make it prudent to attack at present. He therefore cautiously followed Antonio, hoping that he would presently turn into some narrow lane or alley.

In this hope he was not disappointed. At a little distance there was a narrow alley leading from the street in which Antonio was now walking to another of equal size. Antonio stood a little doubtful at the entrance, but finally entered. If he had only known that there was one close upon his heels, who was tracking him with the keenness of an Indian upon the trail of his foeman, he might have hesitated before entering what, to him, was destined to prove "the pass of death."

But he did not know this.

The alley was a long one, little frequented at that hour, and unlighted. Cautiously behind the doomed sailor walked the hired assassin. And now Antonio is nearly midway. Between them there is a distance of fifty feet. Over this interval creeps the murderer with noiseless feet. Then, snatching the ever-ready knife from his girdle, he lifts his hand, and the descending knife is buried in the back of Antonio, entering just below his neck. He sank to the ground with a convulsive shudder, and a sharp cry of pain.

The Brazilian stood over him. Antonio looked up into his face, supposing it might be Bill Sturdy, whose enmity he judged by his own.

And the thought came to him.

Half lifting himself from the ground with his last remaining strength, he ejaculated, feebly, "Were you hired to do this?"

"I was," said the assassin, briefly.

Antonio could have but one thought as to the one who had instigated the murder. He was satisfied it was Bill, and that thought made death doubly bitter.

With a curse upon his lips, a bitter malediction upon his rival, he died.

Quickly stripping his victim of whatever he had about him worth taking, his murderer crept away.