PART SECOND: THE ISABELS
8. CHAPTER EIGHT
 (continued)
The colonel was not the man to let any sort of darkness stand in
 
the way of the planned surprise. It appeared to him a dead
 
certainty; his heart was set upon his object with an
 
ungovernable, childlike impatience.  Ever since the steamer had
 
rounded Punta Mala, to enter the deeper shadow of the gulf, he
 
had remained on the bridge in a group of officers as excited as
 
himself.  Distracted between the coaxings and menaces of Sotillo
 
and his Staff, the miserable commander of the steamer kept her
 
moving with as much prudence as they would let him exercise. Some
 
of them had been drinking heavily, no doubt; but the prospect of
 
laying hands on so much wealth made them absurdly foolhardy, and,
 
at the same time, extremely anxious. The old major of the
 
battalion, a stupid, suspicious man, who had never been afloat in
 
his life, distinguished himself by putting out suddenly the
 
binnacle light, the only one allowed on board for the necessities
 
of navigation. He could not understand of what use it could be
 
for finding the way. To the vehement protestations of the ship's
 
captain, he stamped his foot and tapped the handle of his sword.
 
"Aha! I have unmasked you," he cried, triumphantly. "You are
 
tearing your hair from despair at my acuteness. Am I a child to
 
believe that a light in that brass box can show you where the
 
harbour is? I am an old soldier, I am. I can smell a traitor a
 
league off. You wanted that gleam to betray our approach to your
 
friend the Englishman. A thing like that show you the way! What a
 
miserable lie!  Que picardia! You Sulaco people are all in the
 
pay of those foreigners. You deserve to be run through the body
 
with my sword." Other officers, crowding round, tried to calm his
 
indignation, repeating persuasively, "No, no! This is an
 
appliance of the mariners, major.  This is no treachery." The
 
captain of the transport flung himself face downwards on the
 
bridge, and refused to rise. "Put an end to me at once," he
 
repeated in a stifled voice. Sotillo had to interfere. 
 
The uproar and confusion on the bridge became so great that the
 
helmsman fled from the wheel. He took refuge in the engine-room,
 
and alarmed the engineers, who, disregarding the threats of the
 
soldiers set on guard over them, stopped the engines, protesting
 
that they would rather be shot than run the risk of being drowned
 
down below. 
 
 |