the shadows of
summer clouds; and, soon passing, give place to pleasanter thoughts.
Now that land is near, and a seaport soon to be reached, the young
ladies are this night unusually elated; and, listening to the vivid
description of South Sea scenes, they reflect less sadly and less
bitterly on the supposed slight received at the hands of their lovers.

In return, Don Gregorio imparts to the Chilian skipper some confidences
hitherto withheld. He is even so far admitted into the family intimacy
as to be told how both the senoritas are soon to become brides. To
which is added an invitation, that should he ever carry the _Condor_ to
Cadiz, he will not only visit them, but make their house his home.

Several hours are passed in this pleasant way; interspersed with song
and music--for both Carmen and Inez can sing well, and accompany their
singing with the guitar.

At length the ladies retire to their state-room, not to stay, but to
robe themselves, with the design of taking a turn in the open air. The
smooth motion of the ship, with the soft moonlight streaming through the
cabin windows, tempts them to spend half-an-hour on deck, before going
to rest for the night; and on deck go they.

Lantanas and the ex-haciendado remain seated at the table. Warmed by
the wine--of which both have partaken pretty freely--the Chilian
continues to pour his experiences into the ears of his passenger; while
the latter listens with unflagging interest.

Supping choice _canario_, his favourite tipple, the former takes no note
of aught passing around, nor thinks of what may be doing on the
_Condor's_ deck. All through the evening he has either forgotten or
neglected the duties appertaining to him as her commanding officer. So
much, that he fails to notice a rotatory motion of the cabin, with the
table on which the decanters stand; or, if observing, attributes it to
the wine having disturbed the equilibrium of his brain.

But the cabin _does_ revolve, the table with it, to the extent of a
three-quarter circle. Gradually is the movement being made--gently,
from the sea being calm--silently--with no voice raised in command--no
piping of boatswain's whistle--no song of sailors as they brace round
the yards, or board tacks and sheets!--not a sign to tell Captain
Lantanas has been set upon a course, astray, and likely to lead to her
destruction.

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT.

KILL OR DROWN?

Having set the _Condor's_ course, with Slush