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Web of the Golden Spider, The

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<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> <h3>In the Shadow of the Andes</h3> As soon as lights were secured an examination of the battle ground was made. Four men were found, three of them with leg wounds which did no more than cripple them, and one with a scalp wound made by a grazing bullet which had knocked him unconscious. There was no surgeon aboard, but one of the mates had a good working knowledge of surgery and cleaned and dressed the wounds. As soon as it was daylight Stubbs had a talk with the mutineers. “’Course,” he informed them, “’course ye knows the medicine ye gets fer mutiny on the high seas. Every yeller dog of ye can look for’ard to a prison sentence of twenty years or so. As for Splinter––yer leader––I can ’member the time I’d ha’ had the pleasure er watchin’ him squirm from a yardarm without any further preliminaries. As ’tis, maybe he’ll be ’lowed to think it over th’ rest of his life in a cell.” He kept them on a diet of crackers and corned beef and they never opened their lips in protest. Every day they were brought up morning and afternoon for drill. After this the three men divided the night into 165 the three shifts so that at least one of them was always upon guard. But the men were thoroughly cowed, and evidently hoped, by good behavior, to reëstablish themselves before port was reached. It was during these night watches that Wilson had many long talks with Stubbs––talks that finally became personal and which in the end led him, by one of those quick impulses which make in lives for a great deal of good or wrecking harm, to confide in him the secret of the treasure. This he did at first, however, without locating it nearer than “Within five hundred miles of where we’re going,” and with nothing in his narrative to associate the idol with the priest. Truth to tell, Wilson was disappointed at the cool way in which Stubbs listened. But the latter explained his indifference somewhat when he remarked, removing the clay pipe from his mouth: “M’ boy, I’m sorter past my treasure hunting days. Once’t I dug up ’bout an acre of sand on one of the islands of the South seas an’ it sorter took all th’ enthusiasm, as ye might say, fer sech sport outern me. We didn’t git nothin’ but clam shells, as I remember. Howsomever, I wouldn’t git nothin’ but clam shells outern a gold mine. Thet’s th’ way m’ luck runs. Maybe th’ stuff’s there, maybe it ain’t; but if I goes, it ain’t.” He added, a moment later: “Howsomever, I can see how, in order to find the girl, you has to go. The dago gent––if he lives––will make fer that right off. I’ve heern o’ women with 166 the gift o’ conjurin’––like seventh sons o’ seventh sons––but I ain’t ever met with sech. I dunno now––I dunno now but what I might consider your proposition if we comes outern this right and the cap’n here can spare me. I can’t say this minute as how I takes much stock in it, as ye might say. But I tell ye fair, I’m glad to help a pardner and glad to have a try, fer the sake of the girl if nothin’ more. I don’t like ter see an older man play no sech games as this man––who d’ ye say his name is?” “Sorez.” “Maybe we can find out more ’bout him down here. Anyhow, we’ll talk it over, boy, when we gits through this. In the meanwhile yer secret is safe.” Wilson felt better at the thought that there was now someone with whom he could talk freely of the treasure. It became the main topic of conversation during the watch which he usually sat out with Stubbs, after his own. The ship’s log of the remainder of this long journey would read as uninterestingly as that of an ocean liner. Day succeeded day, and week followed week, with nothing to disturb the quiet of the trip. A stop was made at Rio for coal, another after rounding the Horn (here they did not have the excitement of even high seas), and another halfway up the West coast. But at these places not a man was allowed to leave the ship, Danbury, Wilson, and Stubbs themselves remaining on board in fear of a possible attempt on the part of the mercenaries to land. <div>167</div> As a matter of fact, the latter were thoroughly frightened and did their best by good behavior to offset the effect of their attempt. They were obedient at drills, respectful to all, and as quiet as the crew itself. This was as Stubbs had anticipated, but he on his side gave no sign of relenting in the slightest until the day before they sighted Choco Bay, where the landing was to be made. On the contrary, by dark hints and suggestions he gave them to understand that certain of them––and no one knew who was included in this generality––stood actually in danger of prison sentences. So they outdid one another in the hope of reinstating themselves. At the conclusion of what was to be their last drill Stubbs called them to attention and sprung the trap to which he had been gradually leading them. He studied them with a face heavy with clouds. “We are nearing our port,” he drawled, “an’ some of you are nearin’ the jail. An’ a jail in these diggin’s, my beauties, is a thing that ain’t no joke, ’cause they shets you up below ground where ye has only your natural frien’s the rats fer playmates,––rats as big as dogs an’ hungry as sharks, as ye might say. Sometimes the cap’n of these here ports fergits ye––’specially if they’s frien’s er mine. If they thinks of it, they brings yer sour bread an’ water an’ yer fights the rats fer it; if they fergits, as they has a way er doin’, you jus’ stay there until the rats gits stronger than you. Then, little by little, yer goes. But they buries yer bones very partic’lar, if they finds any. They takes their time in this country, they takes their time.” <div>168</div> Several of the men in the rear huddled closer to one another. One or two in the front row wiped the back of their hands over their brows. “They can’t take ’Merican citizens,” growled someone. “No, they can’t––wuss luck for the ’Merican citizens. The others stand some show––but ’Merican citizens don’t stand none. ’Cause they shets yer up without a hearin’ and communicates with the consul. The consul is drunk mostly an’ devilesh hard to find an’ devilesh slow to move. But the rats ain’t,––Lord, no, the rats ain’t. They is wide awake an’ waitin’.” A big man in the rear shouldered his way to the front. “See here, Cap’n,” he blurted out, “I’ve had a talk with some of the men, an’ we don’t want none er that. We’ve done wrong, maybe, but, Gawd, we don’t want thet. Give us a show,––give us a fightin’ show. We’ll go where you say and we’ll fight hard. We weren’t used to this sorter thing an’ so it comes a bit tough. But give us a show an’ we’ll prove what we can do.” He turned to the band behind him. “Wha’ d’ yer say, fellers? Is this on the level?” “Sure! Sure! Sure!” The cry came heartily. Stubbs thought a moment. “Is this here another little game?” he asked. “Once yer git on land are yer goin’ ter turn yeller agin?” <div>169</div> “No! No! No!” “’Cause it won’t do yer no good, anyhow. Now I tell yer––the cap’n an’ I had a talk over this an’ I was fer lettin’ yer take yer medicine an’ pickin’ up another bunch. Men is cheap down here. But he says, ‘No; if they’ll act like white men, give ’em a show. I want to git this princess with ’Mericans an’ I want to show these fellers what ’Mericans can do behin’ a rifle.’ Our game is to git to Carlina and lick the bunch of Guinnies thet has stolen the young lady’s throne. If ye wanter do thet an’ do it hard and square––well, he’s fer lettin’ this other thing drop. Fight an’ yer gits cash ’nuff to keep drunk fer a year; squeal an’ yer gits shot in the back without any more talk. There’s a square offer––do ye take it like men?” “Sure! Give us a show!” “Then three cheers fer yer cap’n––Cap’n Danbury.” This time the cheers were given with a will, and the boat rang with the noise. “Now then, lay low an’ take yer orders. An’ I wish yer luck.” “Three cheers fer Cap’n Stubbs,” shouted someone. And as Stubbs bashfully beat a hasty retreat, the cheers rang lustily in his ears. But he reported to Danbury with his face beaming. “Now,” he said, “ye’ve gut some men worth something. They’ll be fightin’ fer themselves––fightin’ to keep outern jail. Mutiny has its uses.” The next morning the anchor clanked through blue 170 waters into golden sand and the throbbing engines stopped. The land about Choco Bay is a pleasant land. It is surpassed only by the plains along the upper Orinoco where villages cluster in the bosom of the Andes in a season of never changing autumn. Nearer the coast the climate is more fitful and more drowsy. One wonders how history would have been changed had the early Puritans chanced upon such rich soil for their momentous conquering, instead of the rock-ribbed, barren coast of New England. The same energy, the same dauntless spirit, the same stubborn clinging to where the foot first fell, if expended here, would have gained for them and their progeny a country as near the Garden of Eden as any on earth. But perhaps the balmy breezes, the warming sun, the coaxing sensualism of Nature herself would have wheedled them away from their stern principles and turned them into a nation of dreamers. If so, what dreamers we should have had! We might have had a dozen more Keatses, perhaps another Shakespeare. For this is a poet’s land, where things are only half real. The birds sing about Choco Bay. Rippling through the blue waters after dark, the yacht glided in as close to the shore as possible. The morning sun revealed a golden semicircle of sand rimming the turquoise waters of the bay. Across the blue sky above seagulls skimmed and darted and circled; so clear the waters beneath that the clean bottom showed like a floor of burnished gold. The harbor proper lay 171 ten miles beyond, where a smaller inlet with deeper soundings was protected from the open inrush of the sea by the promontory forming one tip of this broader crescent. Far, very far in the distance the lofty Andes raised their snowy crests––monarchs which, Jove-like, stood with their heads among the clouds. So they had stood while kings were born, fought their petty fights, died, and gave place to others; so they stood while men contended for their different gods; so they stood while men loved and followed their loves into other spheres. It was these same summits upon which Wilson now looked which had greeted Quesada, and these same summits at which Quesada had shaken his palsied fist. It was these same summits which but a short while before must have greeted Jo; it was possible that at their very base he might find her again, and with her a treasure which should make her a queen before men. It made them seem very intimate to him. <hr class='major' /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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