e had a great load of anxiety; it was wonderful that they should
not show it. Coronado, for instance, while talking like a bird song, was
planning how he could get rid of Garcia, and carry Clara back to San
Francisco. The idea of pushing the old man overboard was inadmissible; but
could he not scare him ashore at the next port by stories of a leak? As
for Clara, he could not imagine how to manage her, she was so potent with
her wealth and with her beauty. He was still thinking of these things, and
prattling mellifluously of quite other things, when the Lolotte luffed up
under the lee of the little island of Alcatraz.

"What does this mean?" he asked, looking suspiciously at the
fortifications, with the American flag waving over them.

"Stop here to take in commissary stores for Fort Yuma," explained the
thin, sallow, grave, meek-looking, and yet resolute Yankee mate.

The chain cable rattled through the hawse hole, and in no long while the
loading commenced, lasting until nightfall. During this time Coronado
chanced to learn that an officer was expected on board who would sail as
far as San Diego; and, as all uniforms were bugbears to him, he watched
for the new passenger with a certain amount of anxiety; taking care, by
the way, to say nothing of him to Clara. About eight in the evening, as
the girl was playing some trivial game of cards with Garcia in the cabin,
a splashing of oars alongside called Coronado on deck. It was already
dark; a sailor was standing by the manropes with a lantern; the captain
was saying in a grumbling tone, "Very late, sir."

"Had to wait for orders, captain," returned a healthy, ringing young voice
which struck Coronado like a shot.

"Orders!" muttered the skipper. "Why couldn't they have had them ready?
Here we are going to have a southeaster."

There was anxiety as well as impatience in his voice; but Coronado just
now could not think of tempests; his whole soul was in his eyes. The next
instant he beheld in the ruddy light of the lantern the face of the man
who was his evil genius, the man whose death he had so long plotted for
and for a time believed in, the man who, as he feared, would yet punish
him for his misdeeds. He was so thoroughly beaten and cowed by the sight
that he made a step or two toward the companionway, with the purpose of
hiding in the cabin. Then desperation gave him courage, and he walked
straight up to Thurstane.

"My dear Lieutenant!" he cried, trying to seize