The Crusade of the Excelsior | Page 3

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THE CRUSADE OF THE EXCELSIOR
by Bret Harte

CONTENTS.

PART I.--IN BONDS.

CHAPTER I.
A CRUSADER AND A SIGN

CHAPTER II.
ANOTHER PORTENT

CHAPTER III.
"VIGILANCIA"

CHAPTER IV.
IN THE FOG

CHAPTER V.
TODOS SANTOS

CHAPTER VI.
"HAIL AND FAREWELL"

CHAPTER VII.
THE GENTLE CASTAWAYS

CHAPTER VIII.
IN SANCTUARY

CHAPTER IX.

AN OPEN-AIR PRISON

CHAPTER X.
TODOS SANTOS SOLVES THE MYSTERY

CHAPTER XI.
THE CAPTAIN FOLLOWS HIS SHIP

PART II.--FREED.

CHAPTER I.
THE MOURNERS AT SAN FRANCISCO

CHAPTER II.
THE MOURNERS AT TODOS SANTOS

CHAPTER III.
INTERNATIONAL COURTESIES

CHAPTER IV.
A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE

CHAPTER V.
CLOUDS AND CHANGE

CHAPTER VI.
A MORE IMPORTANT ARRIVAL

CHAPTER VII.
THE RETURN OF THE EXCELSIOR

CHAPTER VIII.
HOSTAGE

CHAPTER IX.
LIBERATED

THE CRUSADE OF THE EXCELSIOR

PART I. IN BONDS.

CHAPTER I.
A CRUSADER AND A SIGN.
It was the 4th of August, 1854, off Cape Corrientes. Morning was
breaking over a heavy sea, and the closely-reefed topsails of a barque
that ran before it bearing down upon the faint outline of the Mexican
coast. Already the white peak of Colima showed, ghost- like, in the east;
already the long sweep of the Pacific was gathering strength and
volume as it swept uninterruptedly into the opening Gulf of California.
As the cold light increased, it could be seen that the vessel showed
evidence of a long voyage and stress of weather. She had lost one of
her spars, and her starboard davits rolled emptily. Nevertheless, her
rigging was taut and ship-shape, and her decks scrupulously clean.
Indeed, in that uncertain light, the only moving figure besides the two
motionless shadows at the wheel was engaged in scrubbing the
quarter-deck--which, with its grated settees and stacked camp-chairs,
seemed to indicate the presence of cabin passengers. For the barque
Excelsior, from New York to San Francisco, had discharged the bulk of
her cargo at Callao, and had extended her liberal cabin accommodation
to swell the feverish Californian immigration, still in its height.
Suddenly there was a slight commotion on deck. An order, issued from
some invisible depth of the cabin, was so unexpected that it had to be
repeated sternly and peremptorily. A bustle forward ensued, two or
three other shadows sprang up by the bulwarks, then the two men bent
over the wheel, the Excelsior slowly swung round on her heel, and,
with a parting salutation to the coast, bore away to the northwest and
the open sea again.
"What's up now?" growled one of the men at the wheel to his
companion, as they slowly eased up on the helm.

"'Tain't the skipper's, for he's drunk as a biled owl, and ain't stirred out
of his bunk since eight bells," said the other. "It's the first mate's orders;
but, I reckon, it's the Senor's idea."
"Then we ain't goin' on to Mazatlan?"
"Not this trip, I reckon," said the third mate, joining them.
"Why?"
The third mate turned and pointed to leeward. The line of coast had
already sunk enough to permit the faint silhouette of a trail of smoke to
define the horizon line of sky.
"Steamer goin' in, eh?"
"Yes. D'ye see--it might be too hot, in there!"
"Then the jig's up?"
"No. Suthin's to be done--north of St. Lucas. Hush!"
He made a gesture of silence, although the conversation, since he had
joined them, had been carried on in a continuous whisper. A figure,
evidently a passenger, had appeared on deck. One or two of the
foreign-looking crew who had drawn near the group, with a certain
undue and irregular familiarity, now slunk away again.
The passenger was a shrewd, exact, rectangular-looking man, who had
evidently never entirely succumbed to the freedom of the sea either in
his appearance or habits. He had not even his sea legs yet; and as the
barque, with the full swell of the Pacific now on her weather bow, was
plunging uncomfortably, he was fain to cling to the