Nunez then showed Cardatas the note he had made, and remarked that, of
course, it could not refer to the present voyage of the brig, for it
could not take her five months to come from Acapulco to this port.

"No," said the other, musing, "it oughtn't to, but, on the other hand,
it is not likely she is on her second voyage to Rio, and both times in
ballast. That's all stuff about ballast. No man would be such a fool as
to sail pretty nigh all around this continent in ballast. He could find
some cargo in Mexico that he could sell when he got to port. Besides, if
that black fellow don't lie,--and he don't know enough to lie,--she's
bound for Paris. It's more likely she means to touch at Rio and take
over some cargo. But why, in the devil's name, should she sail from
Acapulco in ballast? It looks to me as if bags of gold might make very
good ballast."

"That's just what I was thinking," said Nunez.

"And what's more," said the other, "I'll bet she brought it down from
California with her when she arrived at Acapulco. I don't believe she
originally cleared from there."

"It looks that way," said Nunez, "but how do you account for such a
long voyage?"

"I've been talking to Sanchez about that _Miranda_," said Cardatas. "He
has heard that she is an old tub, and a poor sailer, and in that case
five months is not such a very slow voyage. I have known of slower
voyages than that."

"And now what are you going to do about it?" asked Nunez.

"The first thing I want to do is to pump that black fellow a
little more."

"A good idea," said Nunez, "and we'll go and do it."

Poor Inkspot was pumped for nearly an hour, but not much was got out of
him. The only feature of his information that was worth anything was the
idea that he managed to convey that ballast, consisting of stones and
bags of sand, had been taken out of the brig and thrown away, and bags of
gold put in their places. Where this transfer had taken place, the negro
could not make his questioners understand, and he was at last remanded to
the care of Sanchez and the other sailor.

"The black fellow can't tell us much," said Cardatas to Nunez, as they
walked away together, "but he has stuck to his story well, and there
can't be any use of his lying about it. And there is another thing. What
made the brig touch here just long enough to leave a letter, and that
after a voyage of five months? That looks as if they were afraid some of
their people would go on shore and talk."

"In that case," said Nunez, "I should say there is something shady about
the business. Perhaps this captain has slipped away from his partners up
there in California, or somebody who has been up to a trick has hired him
to take the gold out of the country. If he does carry treasure, it isn't
a fair and square thing. If it had been fair, the gold would have been
sent in the regular way, by a steamer. It's no crime to send gold from
California to France, or any other place."

"I agree with you," said Cardatas, as he lighted his twenty-seventh
cigarette.

Nunez did not smoke, but he mused as he walked along.

"If she has gold on board," said he, presently, "it must be a good deal."

"Yes," said the other. "They wouldn't take so much trouble for a small
lot. Of course, there can't be enough of it to take the place of all the
ballast, but it must weigh considerable."

Here the two men were joined by an acquaintance, and their special
conversation ceased. That night they met again.

"What are you going to do about this?" asked Nunez. "We can't keep on
supporting that negro."

"What is to be done?" asked the other, his sharp eyes fixed upon his
companion's face.

"Would it pay to go over to Rio and meet that brig when she arrives
there? If we could get on board and have a talk with her captain, he
might be willing to act handsomely when he found out we know something
about him and his ship. And if he won't do that, we might give
information, and have his vessel held until the authorities in California
can be communicated with. Then I should say we ought to make something."

"I don't think much of that plan," said Cardatas. "I don't believe she's
going to touch at Rio. If she's afraid to go into port here, why
shouldn't she be afraid to go into port there? No. It would be stupid for
us to go to Rio and sit down and wait for her."

"Then," answered the other, a little angrily, "what can be done?"

"We can go after her," said Cardatas.

The other sneered. "That would be more stupid than the other," said he.
"She left here four days ago, and we could never catch up with her, even
if we could find such a pin-point of a vessel on the great Pacific."

Cardatas laughed. "You don't know much about navigation," said he, "but
that's not to be expected. With a good sailing-vessel I could go after
her, and overhaul her somewhere in the Straits of Magellan. With such a
cargo, I am sure she would make for the Straits. That Captain Horn is
said to be a good sailor, and the fact that he is in command of such a
tub as the _Miranda_ is a proof that there is something underhand about
his business."

"And if we should overhaul her?" said the other.

"Well," was the reply, "we might take along a dozen good fellows, and as
the _Miranda_ has only three men on board,--I don't count negroes worth
anything,--I don't see why we couldn't induce the captain to talk
reasonably to us. As for a vessel, there's the _Arato_."

"Your vessel?" said the other.

"Yes, I own a small share in her, and she's here in port now, waiting
for a cargo."

"I forget what sort of a craft she is," said Nunez.

"She's a schooner," said the other, "and she can sail two miles to the
_Miranda's_ one in any kind of weather. If I had money enough, I could
get the _Arato_, put a good crew on board, and be at sea and on the wake
of that brig in twenty-four hours."

"And how much money would be needed?" asked the other.

"That remains to be calculated," replied Cardatas. Then the two went to
work to calculate, and spent an hour or two at it.

When they parted, Nunez had not made up his mind that the plan of
Cardatas was a good one, but he told him to go ahead and see what could
be done about getting the _Arato_ and a reliable crew, and that he would
talk further to him about the matter.

That night Nunez took a train for Santiago, and on his arrival there, the
next morning, he went straight to the shop of the jeweller of whom had
been obtained the piece of gold in his possession. Here he made some
cautious inquiries, and found the jeweller very ready to talk about the
piece of gold that Nunez showed him. The jeweller said that he had had
four pieces of the gold in his possession, and that he had bought them in
Lima to use in his business. They had originally come from California,
and were very fine gold. He had been a little curious about it on account
of the shape of the pieces, and had been told that they had been brought
into the country by an American sea-captain, who had seemed to have a
good many of them. The jeweller thought it very likely that these pieces
of gold passed for currency in California, for he had heard that at one
time the people there had had to make their own currency, and that they
often paid for merchandise in so many penny-weights and ounces of gold
instead of using coin. The jeweller was himself very glad to do business
in this way, for he liked the feel of a lump of gold.

After explaining that his reason for making these inquiries was his fear
that the piece of gold he had accepted in trade because he also liked the
feel of lumps of gold, might not be worth what he had given for it, Nunez
thanked the jeweller, left him, and returned to Valparaiso. He went
straight to his friend Cardatas, and said that he would furnish the
capital to fit out the _Arato_ for the projected trip.

It was not in twenty-four hours, but in forty-eight, that the schooner
_Arato_ cleared from Valparaiso for Callao in ballast. She had a good set
of sails, and a crew of ten men besides the captain. She also had on
board a passenger, Nunez by name, and a tall negro, who doubtless could
turn his hand to some sort of work on board, and whom it would have been
very indiscreet to leave behind.

Once outside the harbor, the _Arato_ changed her mind about going to
Callao, and sailed southward.




CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE COAST OF PATAGONIA


For about ten days after the brig _Miranda_ left Valparaiso she had good
winds and fair weather, and her progress was satisfactory to all on
board, but at the end of that time she entered upon a season of head
winds and bad weather. The vessel behaved very well in the stormy days
that followed, but she made very little headway. Her course was now laid
toward the Gulf of Penas, after reaching which she would sail along the
protected waterways between the chain of islands which lie along the
coast and the mainland, and which lead into the Straits of Magellan.

When the weather at last changed and the sea became smoother, it was
found that the working and straining of the masts during the violent
weather had opened some of the seams of the brig, and that she was taking
in water. She was a good vessel, but she was an old one, and she had had
a rough time of it. The captain thanked his stars that she had not begun
to leak before the storm.

The short-handed crew went to work at the pumps, but, after two days'
hard labor, it was found that the water in the hold steadily gained upon
the pumps, and there was no doubt that the _Miranda_ was badly strained.
According to a report from Burke, the water came in forward, aft, and
midships. Matters were now getting very serious, and the captain and his
two mates consulted together, while the three negroes pumped. It was
plain to all of them that if the water kept on gaining, it would not be
long before the brig must go to the bottom. To keep her afloat until they
reached a port would be impossible. To reach the shore in the boats was
quite possible, for they were not a hundred miles from land. But to carry
their treasure to land in two small boats was a thing which need not even
be considered.

All agreed that there was but one thing to be done. The brig must be
headed to land, and if she could be kept afloat until she neared one of
the great islands which lie along the Patagonian coast, she might be run
into some bay or protected cove, where she could be beached, or where, if
she should sink, it might be in water so shallow that all hope of getting
at her treasure would not have to be abandoned. In any case, the sooner
they got to the shore, the better for them. So the brig's bow was turned
eastward, and the pumps were worked harder than ever. There was a good
wind, and, considering that the _Miranda_ was steadily settling deeper
and deeper, she made very fair progress, and in less than two days after
she had changed her course, land was sighted. Not long after, Captain
Horn began to hope that if the wind held, and the brig could keep above
water for an hour or so, he could double a small headland which now
showed itself plainly a couple of miles away, and might be able to beach
his vessel.

What a dreary, depressing hope it was that now possessed the souls of
Captain Horn, of Burke and Shirley, and of even the three negroes! After
all the hardships, the labor, and the anxieties, after all the joy of
success and escape from danger, after all happy chances which had come in
various ways and from various directions, after the sweet delights of
rest, after the super-exultation of anticipation which no one on board
had been able to banish from his mind, there was nothing left to them now
but the eager desire that their vessel might keep afloat until she could
find some friendly sands on which she might be run, or some shallow water
in which she might sink and rest there on the wild Patagonian coast,
leaving them far from human beings of any kind, far from help, far,
perhaps, from rescue and even safety.

To this one object each man gave his entire energy, his mind, and his
body. Steadily went the pumps, steadily the captain kept his eyes fixed
upon the approaching headland, and upon the waters beyond, and steadily,
little by little, the _Miranda_ sunk lower and lower into the sea.

At last the headland was reached, and on its ocean side the surf beat
high. Keeping well away to avoid shoals or a bar, the _Miranda_ passed
the southern point of the headland, and slowly sailed into a little bay.
To the left lay the rocky ridge which formed the headland, and less than
half a mile away could be seen the shining sands of the smooth beach.
Toward this beach the _Miranda_ was now headed, every sail upon her set,
and every nerve upon her strung to its tightest. They went in upon a
flood-tide. If he had believed that the brig would float so long,
Captain Horn would have waited an hour until the tide was high, so that
he might run his vessel farther up upon the beach, but he could not wait,
and with a strong west wind he steered straight for the sands.

There was a hissing under the bows, and a shock which ran through the
vessel from stem to stern, and then grinding and grinding and grinding
until all motion ceased, and a gentle surf began to curl itself against
the stern of the brig.

Every halliard was let go, and down came every sail by the run, and then
the brig _Miranda_ ended this voyage, and all others, upon the shore of a
desolate Patagonian island.

Between the vessel and dry land there was about a hundred feet of water,
but this would be much less when the tide went out. Beyond the beach was
a stretch of sandy hillocks, or dunes, and back of these was a mass of
scrubby thicket, with here and there a low tree, and still farther back
was seen the beginning of what might be a forest. It was a different
coast from the desolate shores of Peru.

Burke came aft to the captain.

"Here we are, sir," said he, "and what's to happen next?"

"Happen!" exclaimed the captain. "We must not wait for things to happen!
What we've got to do is to step around lively, and get the gold out of
this brig before the wind changes and drives her out into deep water."

Burke put his hands into his pockets. "Is there any good of it, captain?"
said he. "Will we be any better off with the bags on that shore than we
would be if they were sunk in this bay?"

"Good of it!" exclaimed the captain. "Don't talk that way, Burke. If we
can get it on shore, there is a chance for us. But if it goes to the
bottom, out in deep water, there is none. There is no time to talk now.
What we must do is to go to work."

"Yes," said Burke, "whatever happens, it is always work. But I'm in for
it, as long as I hold together. But we've got to look out that some of
those black fellows don't drop over the bow, and give us the slip."

"They'll starve if they do," said the captain, "for not a biscuit, or a
drop of water, goes ashore until the gold is out of the hold."

Burke shook his head. "We'll do what we can, captain," said he, "but that
hold's a regular fishpond, and we'll have to dive for the bags."

"All right," said the captain, "dive let it be."

The work of removing the gold began immediately. Tackle was rigged. The
negroes went below to get out the bags, which were hauled up to the deck
in a tub. When a moderate boat-load had been taken out, a boat was
lowered and manned, and the bags passed down to it.

In the first boat the captain went ashore. He considered it wise to land
the treasure as fast as it could be taken out of the hold, for no one
could know at what time, whether on account of wind from shore or waves
from the sea, the vessel might slip out into deep water. This was a
slower method than if everybody had worked at getting the gold on deck,
and then everybody had worked at getting it ashore, but it was a safer
plan than the other, for if an accident should occur, if the brig should
be driven off the sand, they would have whatever they had already
landed. As this thought passed through the mind of the captain, he could
not help a dismal smile.

"Have!" said he to himself. "It may be that we shall have it as that poor
fellow had his bag of gold, when he lay down on his back to die there in
the wild desert."

But no one would have imagined that such an idea had come into the
captain's mind. He worked as earnestly, and as steadily, as if he had
been landing an ordinary cargo at an ordinary dock.

The captain and the men in the boat carried the bags high up on the
beach, out of any danger from tide or surf, and laid them in a line along
the sand. The captain ordered this because it would be easier to handle
them afterwards--if it should ever be necessary to handle them--than if
they had been thrown into piles. If they should conclude to bury them, it
would be easier and quicker to dig a trench along the line, and tumble
them in, than to make the deep holes that would otherwise be necessary.

Until dark that day, and even after dark, they worked, stopping only for
necessary eating and drinking. The line of bags upon the shore had grown
into a double one, and it became necessary for the men, sometimes the
white and sometimes the black, to stoop deeper and deeper into the water
of the hold to reach the bags. But they worked on bravely. In the early
dawn of the next morning they went to work again. Not a negro had given
the ship the slip, nor were there any signs that one of them had thought
of such a thing.

Backward and forward through the low surf went the boat, and longer and
wider and higher grew the mass of bags upon the beach.

It was the third day after they had reached shore that the work was
finished. Every dripping bag had been taken out of the hold, and the
captain had counted them all as they had been put ashore, and verified
the number by the record in his pocket-book.

When the lower tiers of bags had been reached, they had tried pumping out
the water, but this was of little use. The brig had keeled over on her
starboard side, and early in the morning of the third day, when the tide
was running out, a hole had been cut in that side of the vessel, out of
which a great portion of the water she contained had run. It would all
come in again, and more of it, when the tide rose, but they were sure
they could get through their work before that, and they were right. The
bags now lay upon the beach in the shape of a long mound, not more than
three feet high, and about four rows wide at the bottom and two at the
top. The captain had superintended the arrangement of the bags, and had
so shaped the mass that it somewhat resembled in form the dunes of sand
which lay behind it. No matter what might be their next step, it would
probably be advisable to conceal the bags, and the captain had thought
that the best way to do this would be to throw sand over the long mound,
in which work the prevailing western winds would be likely to assist, and
thus make it look like a natural sand-hill. Burke and Shirley were in
favor of burial, but the consideration of this matter was deferred, for
there was more work to be done, which must be attended to immediately.

Now provisions, water, and everything else that might be of value was
taken out of the brig and carried to shore. Two tents were constructed
out of sails and spars, and the little party established themselves
upon the beach. What would be their next work they knew not, but they
must first rest from their long season of heavy labor. The last days
had been harder even than the days of storm and the days of pumping.
They had eaten hurriedly and slept but little. Regular watches and
irregular watches had been kept--watches against storm, which might
sweep the brig with all on board out to sea, watches against desertion,
watches against they knew not what. As chief watcher, the captain had
scarcely slept at all.

It had been dreary work, unrelieved by hope, uncheered by prospect of
success; for not one of them, from the captain down, had any definite
idea as to what was to be done after they had rested enough to act.

But they rested, and they went so far as to fill their pipes and stretch
themselves upon the sand. When night came on, chilly and dark, they
gathered driftwood and dead branches from the thicket and built a
camp-fire. They sat around it, and smoked their pipes, but they did not
tell stories, nor did they talk very much. They were glad to rest, they
were glad to keep warm, but that was all. The only really cheerful thing
upon the beach was the fire, which leaped high and blazed merrily as the
dried wood was heaped upon it.




CHAPTER XXXIX

SHIRLEY SPIES A SAIL


When the _Arato_ changed her mind about going to Callao, and sailed
southward some five days after the _Miranda_ had started on the same
course, she had very good weather for the greater part of a week, and
sailed finely. Cardatas, who owned a share in her, had sailed upon her as
first mate, but he had never before commanded her. He was a good
navigator, however, and well fitted for the task he had undertaken. He
was a sharp fellow, and kept his eyes on everybody, particularly upon
Nunez, who, although a landsman, and in no wise capable of sailing a
ship, was perfectly capable of making plans regarding any vessel in which
he was interested, especially when such a vessel happened to be sailing
in pursuit of treasure, the value of which was merely a matter of
conjecture. It was not impossible that the horse-dealer, who had embarked
money in this venture, might think that one of the mariners on board
might be able to sail the schooner as well as Cardatas, and would not
expect so large a share of the profits should the voyage be successful.
But when the storms came on, Nunez grew sick and unhappy, and retired
below, and he troubled the mind of Cardatas no more for the present.

The _Arato_ sailed well with a fair wind, but in many respects she was
not as good a sea-boat in a storm as the _Miranda_ had proved to be, and
she had been obliged to lie to a great deal through the days and nights
of high winds and heavy seas. Having never had, until now, the
responsibility of a vessel upon him, Cardatas was a good deal more
cautious and prudent, perhaps, than Captain Horn would have been had he
been in command of the _Arato_. Among other methods of precaution which
Cardatas thought it wise to take, he steered well out from the coast, and
thus greatly lengthened his course, and at last, when a clearing sky
enabled him to take an observation, he found himself so far to the
westward that he changed his course entirely and steered for the
southeast.

Notwithstanding all these retarding circumstances, Cardatas did not
despair of overhauling the _Miranda_. He was sure she would make for the
Straits, and he did not in the least doubt that, with good winds, he
could overtake her before she reached them, and even if she did get out
of them, he could still follow her. His belief that the _Arato_ could
sail two miles to the _Miranda's_ one was still unshaken. The only real
fear he had was that the _Miranda_ might have foundered in the storm. If
that should happen to be the case, their voyage would be a losing one,
indeed, but he said nothing of his fears to Nunez.

The horse-dealer was now on deck again, in pretty fair condition, but he
was beginning to be despondent. After such an awful storm, and in all
that chaos of waves, what chance was there of finding a little brig such
as they were after?

"But vessels sail in regular courses," Cardatas said to him. "They don't
go meandering all over the ocean. If they are bound for any particular
place, they go there on the shortest safe line they can lay down on the
map. We can go on that line, too, although we may be thrown out of it by
storms. But we can strike it again, and then all we have to do is to keep
on it as straight as we can, and we are bound to overtake another vessel
on the same course, provided we sail faster than she does. It is all
plain enough, don't you see?"

Nunez could not help seeing, but he was a little cross, nevertheless. The
map and the ocean were wonderfully different.

The wind had changed, and the _Arato_ did not make very good sailing on
her southeastern course. High as was her captain's opinion of her, she
never had sailed, nor ever could sail, two miles to the _Miranda's_ one,
although she was a good deal faster than the brig. But she was fairly
well handled, and in due course of time she approached so near the coast
that her lookout sighted land, which land Cardatas, consulting his
chart, concluded must be one of the Patagonian islands to the north of
the Gulf of Penas.

As night came on, Cardatas determined to change his course somewhat to
the south, as he did not care to trust himself too near the coast,
when suddenly the lookout reported a light on the port bow. Cardatas
had sailed down this coast before, but he had never heard of a
lighthouse in the region, and with his glass he watched the light. But
he could not make it out. It was a strange light, for sometimes it was
bright and sometimes dull, then it would increase greatly and almost
fade away again.

"It looks like a fire on shore," said he, and some of the other men who
took the glass agreed with him.

"And what does that mean?" asked Nunez.

"I don't know," replied Cardatas, curtly. "How should I? But one thing I
do know, and that is that I shall lie to until morning, and then we can
feel our way near to the coast and see what it does mean."

"But what do you want to know for?" asked Nunez. "I suppose somebody on
shore has built a fire. Is there any good stopping for that? We have lost
a lot of time already."

"I am going to lie to, anyway," said Cardatas. "When we are on such
business as ours, we should not pass anything without understanding it."

Cardatas had always supposed that these islands were uninhabited, and he
could not see why anybody should be on one of them making a fire, unless
it were a case of shipwreck. If a ship had been wrecked, it was not at
all impossible that the _Miranda_ might be the unfortunate vessel. In any
case, it would be wise to lie to, and look into the matter by daylight.
If the _Miranda_ had gone down at sea, and her crew had reached land in
boats, the success of the _Arato's_ voyage would be very dubious. And
should this misfortune have happened, he must be careful about Nunez when
he came to hear of it. When he turned into his hammock that night,
Cardatas had made up his mind that, if he should discover that the
_Miranda_ had gone to the bottom, it would be a very good thing if
arrangements could be made for Nunez to follow her.

That night the crew of the Miranda slept well and enjoyed the first real
rest they had had since the storm. No watch was kept, for they all
thought it would be an unnecessary hardship. The captain awoke at early
dawn, and, as he stepped out of the tent, he glanced over sea and land.
There were no signs of storm, the brig had not slipped out into deep
water, their boats were still high and dry upon the beach, and there was
something encouraging in the soft, early light and the pleasant morning
air. He was surprised, however, to find that he was not the first man
out. On a piece of higher ground, a little back from the tents, Shirley
was standing, a glass to his eye.

"What do you see?" cried the captain.

"A sail!" returned Shirley.

At this every man in the tents came running out. Even to the negroes the
words, "A sail," had the startling effect which they always have upon
ship-wrecked men.

The effect upon Captain Horn was a strange one, and he could scarcely
understand it himself. It was amazing that succor, if succor it should
prove to be, had arrived so quickly after their disaster. But
not-withstanding the fact that he would be overjoyed to be taken off that
desolate coast, he could not help a strong feeling of regret that a sail
had appeared so soon. If they had had time to conceal their treasure, all
might have been well. With the bags of gold buried in a trench, or
covered with sand so as to look like a natural mound, he and his sailors
might have been taken off merely as shipwrecked sailors, and carried to
some port where he might charter another vessel and come back after his
gold. But now he knew that whoever landed on this beach must know
everything, for it would be impossible to conceal the contents of that
long pile of bags, and what consequences might follow upon such knowledge
it was impossible for him to imagine. Burke had very much the same idea.

"By George, captain!" said he, "it is a great pity that she came along so
soon. What do you say? Shall we signal her or not? We want to get away,
but it would be beastly awkward for anybody to come ashore just now. I
wish we had buried the bags as fast as we brought them ashore."

The captain did not answer. Perhaps it might be as well not to signal
her. And yet, this might be their only chance of rescue!

"What do you say to jumping into the boats and rowing out to meet them?"
asked Burke. "We'd have to leave the bags uncovered, but we might get to
a port, charter some sort of a craft, and get back for the bags before
any other vessel came so near the coast."

"I don't see what made this one come so near," said Shirley, "unless it
was our fire last night. She might have thought that was a signal."

"I shouldn't wonder," said the captain, who held the glass. "But we
needn't trouble ourselves about going out in boats, for she is making
straight for land."

"That's so," said Shirley, who could now see this for himself, for the
light was rapidly growing stronger. "She must have seen our fire last
night. Shall I hoist a signal?"

"No," said the captain. "Wait!"

They waited to see what this vessel was going to do. Perhaps she was only
tacking. But what fool of a skipper would run so close to the shore for
the sake of tacking! They watched her eagerly, but not one of the white
men would have been wholly disappointed if the schooner, which they could
now easily make out, had changed her course and gone off on a long tack
to the southwest.

But she was not tacking. She came rapidly on before a stiff west wind.
There was no need of getting out boats to go to meet her. She was south
of the headland, but was steering directly toward it. They could see what
sort of craft she was--a long schooner, painted green, with all sails
set. Very soon they could see the heads of the men on board. Then she
came nearer and nearer to land, until she was less than half a mile from
shore. Then she shot into the wind; her sails fluttered; she lay almost
motionless, and her head-sails were lowered.

"That's just as if they were coming into port," said Burke.

"Yes," said Shirley, "I expect they intend to drop anchor."

This surmise was correct, for, as he spoke, the anchor went down
with a splash.

"They're very business-like," said Burke. "Look at them. They are
lowering a boat."

"A boat!" exclaimed Shirley, "They're lowering two of them."

The captain knit his brows. This was extraordinary action on the part of
the vessel. Why did she steer so straight for land? Why did she so
quickly drop anchor and put out two boats? Could it be that this vessel
had been on their track? Could it be that the Peruvian government--But he
could not waste time in surmise as to what might be. They must act, not
conjecture.

It was not a minute before the captain made up his mind how they should
act. Five men were in each boat, and with a glass it was easy to see that
some of them carried guns.

"Get your rifles!" cried he to Shirley and Burke, and he rushed
for his own.

The arms and ammunition had been all laid ready in the tent, and in a
moment each one of the white men had a rifle and a belt of cartridges.
For the blacks there were no guns, as they would not have known how to
use them, but they ran about in great excitement, each with his knife
drawn, blindly ready to do whatever should be ordered. The poor negroes
were greatly frightened. They had but one idea about the approaching
boats: they believed that the men in them were Rackbirds coming to wreak
vengeance upon them. The same idea had come into the mind of the captain.
Some of the Rackbirds had gone back to the cove. They had known that
there had been people there. They had made investigations, and found the
cave and the empty mound, and in some way had discovered that the
_Miranda_ had gone off with its contents. Perhaps the black fellow who
had deserted the vessel at Valparaiso had betrayed them. He hurriedly
mentioned his suspicions to his companions.

"I shouldn't wonder," said Burke, "if that Inkspot had done it. Perhaps
he could talk a good deal better than we thought. But I vow I wouldn't
have supposed that he would be the man to go back on us. I thought he was
the best of the lot."

"Get behind that wall of bags," cried the captain, "every one of you.
Whoever they are, we will talk to them over a breastwork."

"I think we shall have to do more than talk," said Burke, "for a blind
man could see that there are guns in those boats."




CHAPTER XL

THE BATTLE OF THE GOLDEN WALL


The five men now got behind the barrier of bags, but, before following
them, Captain Horn, with the butt of his rifle, drew a long, deep furrow
in the sand about a hundred feet from the breastwork of bags, and
parallel with it. Then he quickly joined the others.

The three white men stationed themselves a little distance apart, and
each moved a few of the top bags so as to get a good sight between them,
and not expose themselves too much.

As the boats came on, the negroes crouched on the sand, entirely out of
sight, while Shirley and Burke each knelt down behind the barrier, with
his rifle laid in a crevice in the top. The captain's rifle was in his
hand, but he did not yet prepare for action. He stooped down, but his
head was sufficiently above the barrier to observe everything.

The two boats came rapidly on, and were run up on the beach, and the men
jumped out and drew them up, high and safe. Then, without the slightest
hesitation, the ten of them, each with a gun in his hand, advanced in a
body toward the line of bags.

"Ahoy!" shouted the captain, suddenly rising from behind the barrier.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" He said this in English, but
immediately repeated it in Spanish.

"Ahoy, there!" cried Cardatas. "Are you Captain Horn?"

"Yes, I am," said the captain, "and you must halt where you are. The
first man who passes that line is shot."

Cardatas laughed, and so did some of the others, but they all stopped.

"We'll stop here a minute to oblige you," said Cardatas, "but we've got
something to say to you, and you might as well listen to it."

Shirley and Burke did not understand a word of these remarks, for they
did not know Spanish, but each of them kept his eye running along the
line of men who still stood on the other side of the furrow the captain
had made in the sand, and if one of them had raised his gun to fire at
their skipper, it is probable that he would have dropped. Shirley and
Burke had been born and bred in the country; they were hunters, and were
both good shots. It was on account of their fondness for sport that they
had been separated from the rest of their party on the first day of the
arrival of the people from the _Castor_ at the caves.

"What have you to say?" said the captain. "Speak quickly."

Cardatas did not immediately answer, for Nunez was excitedly talking to
him. The soul of the horse-dealer had been inflamed by the sight of the
bags. He did not suppose it possible that they could all contain gold,
but he knew they must be valuable, or they would not have been carried
up there, and he was advising a rush for the low wall.

"We will see what we can do with them, first," said Cardatas to Nunez.
"Some of us may be shot if we are in too great a hurry. They are well
defended where they are, and we may have to get round into their rear.
Then we can settle their business very well, for the negro said there
were only three white men. But first let us talk to them. We may manage
them without running any risks."

Cardatas turned toward the captain, and at the same time Burke said:

"Captain, hadn't you better squat down a little? You're making a very
fine mark of yourself."

But the captain still stood up to listen to Cardatas.

"I'll tell you what we've come for," said the latter. "We are not
officers of the law, but we are the same thing. We know all about you and
the valuable stuff you've run away with, and we've been offered a reward
to bring back those bags, and to bring you back, too, dead or alive, and
here we are, ready to do it. It was good luck for us that your vessel
came to grief, but we should have got you, even if she hadn't. We were
sure to overhaul you in the Straits. We know all about you and that old
hulk, but we are fair and square people, and we're sailors, and we don't
want to take advantage of anybody, especially of sailors who have had
misfortunes. Now, the reward the Californian government has offered us is
not a very big one, and I think you can do better by us, so if you'll
agree to come out from behind that breastwork and talk to us fair and
square, your two white men and your three negroes,--you see, we know all
about you,--I think we can make a bargain that'll suit all around. The
government of California hasn't any claim on us, and we don't see why we
should serve it any more than we should serve you, and it will be a good
deal better for you to be content with half the treasure you've gone off
with, or perhaps a little more than that, and let us have the rest. We
will take you off on our vessel, and land you at any port you want to go
to, and you can take your share of the bags ashore with you. Now, that's
what I call a fair offer, and I think you will say so, too."

Captain Horn was much relieved by part of this speech. He had had a
slight fear, when Cardatas began, that these men might have been sent out
by the Peruvian government, but now he saw they were a set of thieves,
whether Rackbirds or not, doing business on their own account.

"The Californian government has nothing to do with me," cried Captain
Horn, "and it never had anything to do with you, either. When you say
that, you lie! I am not going to make any bargain with you, or have
anything to do with you. My vessel is wrecked, but we can take care of
ourselves. And now I'll give you five minutes to get to your boats, and
the quicker you go, the better for you!"

At this, Nunez stepped forward, his face red with passion. "Look here,
you Yankee thief," he cried, "we'll give you just one minute to come out
from behind that pile of bags. If you don't come, we'll--"

But if he said any more, Captain Horn did not hear it, for at that moment
Burke cried: "Drop, captain!" And the captain dropped.

Stung by the insult he had received, and unable to resist the
temptation of putting an end to the discussion by shooting Captain Horn,
Cardatas raised his rifle to his shoulder, and almost in the same
instant that the captain's body disappeared behind the barrier, he
fired. But the bullet had scarcely left his barrel when another ball,
from Shirley's gun, struck Cardatas under his uplifted left arm, and
stretched him on the sand.

A shock ran through the attacking party, and instinctively they retreated
several yards. So suddenly had they lost their leader that, for a few
moments, they did not seem to understand the situation. But, on a shout
from one of them to look out for themselves, every man dropped flat upon
the beach, behind a low bank of sand scarcely a foot high. This was not
much protection, but it was better than standing up as marks for the
rifles behind the barrier.

The men from the _Arato_ were very much surprised by what had happened.
They had expected to have an easy job with the crew of the _Miranda_. As
soon as the sailor Sanchez had seen the stranded brig, he had recognized
her, and Cardatas, as well as the rest of them, had thought that there
would be nothing to do but to go on shore with a party of well-armed men,
and possess themselves of whatever treasure she had brought to this
deserted coast. But to find her crew strongly intrenched and armed had
very much amazed them.

Nunez's anger had disappeared, and his accustomed shrewdness had taken
its place, for he now saw that very serious business was before them. He
was not much of a soldier, but he knew enough to understand that in the
plan proposed by Cardatas lay their only hope of success. It would be
ridiculous to lie there and waste their ammunition on that wall of bags.
He was lying behind the others, and raised his head just enough to tell
them what they should do.

"We must get into their rear," he said. "We must creep along the sand
until we reach those bushes up there, and then we can get behind them.
I'll go first, and you can follow me."

At, this, he began to work himself along the beach, somewhat after the
fashion of an earthworm. But the men paid no attention to him. There was
little discipline among them, and they had no respect for the
horse-dealer as a commander, so they remained on the sands, eagerly
talking among themselves. Some of them were frightened, and favored a
rush for the boats. But this advice brought down curses from the others.
What were three men to nine, that they should run away?

Burke now became tired of waiting to see what would happen next, and
putting his hat on a little stick, he raised it a short distance above
the breastwork. Instantly one of the more excitable men from the _Arato_
fired at it.

"Very good," said Burke. "They want to keep it up, do they? Now,
captain," he continued, "we can see the backs and legs of most of them.
Shall we fire at them? That will be just as good as killing them. They
mean fight--that's easy to see."

But the captain was not willing to follow Burke's advice.

"I don't want to wound or maim them," he replied. "Let's give them a
volley just over their heads, and let them see what we are prepared to
do. Now, then, when I give the word!"

In a few moments three shots rang out from the intrenchment, and the
bullets went whistling over the prostrate bodies of the men on the sand.
But these tactics did not have the effect Captain Horn hoped for. They
led to no waving of handkerchiefs, nor any show of an intention to treat
with an armed and intrenched foe. Instead of that, the man Sanchez sprang
to his feet and cried:

"Come on, boys! Over the wall and at them before they can reload!"

At this all the men sprang up and dashed toward the line of bags, Nunez
with them. Somebody might get hurt in this wild charge, but he must reach
the treasure as soon as the others. He must not fail in that. But Sanchez
made a great mistake when he supposed that Captain Horn and his men
fought with such arms as the muzzle-loading rifles and shot--guns which
the _Arato's_ men had thought quite sufficient to bring with them for the
work they had to do. Captain Horn, when he had fitted out the _Miranda_,
had supplied himself and his two white men with fine repeating rifles,
and the _Arato's_ men had scarcely crossed the line which had been drawn
on the sand before there were three shots from the barrier, and three of
the enemy dropped. Even the captain made a good shot this time.

At this the attacking party stopped, and some of them shouted, "To the
boats!" Nunez said nothing, for he was dead. There had been much
straggling in the line, and Shirley had singled him out as one of the
leaders. Before one of them had turned or a retreat begun, Burke's rifle
flashed, and another man fell over against a companion, and then down
upon the sand. The distance was very short, and a bad shot was almost
impossible for a good hunter.

Now there was no hesitation. The five men who had life and legs, turned
and dashed for the boats. But the captain did not intend, now, that they
should escape, and rifle after rifle cracked from the barricade, and
before they reached the boats, four of the flying party had fallen. The
fifth man stumbled over one of his companions, who dropped in front of
him, then rose to his feet, threw down his gun, and, turning his face
toward the shore, held up his hands high above his head.

"I surrender!" he cried, and, still with his arms above his head, and his
face whiter than the distant sands, he slowly walked toward the barrier.

The captain rose. "Halt!" he cried, and the man stood stock-still. "Now,
my men," cried the captain, turning to Burke and Shirley, "keep your eyes
on that fellow until we reach him, and if he moves, shoot him."

The three white men, followed by the negroes, ran down to the man, and
when they had reached him, they carefully searched him to see if he had
any concealed weapons.

After glancing rapidly over the bodies which lay upon the sand, the
captain turned to his men.

"Come on, every one of you," he shouted, "and run out that boat,"
pointing to the largest one that had brought the _Arato's_ men ashore.

Shirley and Burke looked at him in surprise.

"We want that vessel!" he cried, in answer. "Be quick!" And taking hold
of the boat himself, he helped the others push it off the sand. "Now,
then," he continued, "Shirley, you and Burke get into the bow, with your
rifles. Tumble in, you black fellows, and each take an oar. You," he said
in Spanish to the prisoner, "get in and take an oar, too."

The captain took the tiller. Shirley and Burke pushed the boat into
deep water, and jumped aboard. The oars dipped, and they were off,
regardless of the low surf which splashed its crest over the gunwale as
the boat turned.

"Tell me, you rascal," said the captain to the prisoner, who was tugging
at his oar as hard as the others, "how many men are aboard that
schooner?"

"Only two, I swear to you, SeГ±or Capitan; there were twelve of us in
all."

The men left on the schooner had evidently watched the proceedings on
shore, and were taking measures accordingly.

"They've slipped their anchor, and the tide is running out!" shouted the
captain. "Pull! Pull!"

"They're running up their jib!" cried Burke. "Lay to, you fellows, or
I'll throw one of you overboard, and take his place!"

The captured man was thoroughly frightened. They were great fighters,
these men he had fallen among, and he pulled as though he were rowing to
rescue his dearest friend. The black fellows bent to their oars like
madmen. They were thoroughly excited. They did not know what they were
rowing: for they only knew they were acting under the orders of their
captain, who had just killed nine Rackbirds, and their teeth and their
eyes flashed as their oars dipped and bent.




CHAPTER XLI

THE "ARATO" ANCHORS NEARER SHORE


On went the boat, each one of the oarsmen pulling with all his force, the
captain in the stern, shouting and encouraging them, and Shirley and
Burke crouched in the bow, each with his rifle in hand. Up went the jib
of the _Arato_. She gently turned about as she felt the influence of the
wind, and then the captain believed the men on board were trying to get
up the foresail.

"Are you sure there are only two of the crew on that schooner?" said the
captain to the prisoner. "Now, it isn't worth while to lie to me."

"Only two," said the man. "I swear to it. Only two, SeГ±or Capitan."

The foresail did not go up, for one of the men had to run to the wheel,
and as the vessel's head got slowly around, it seemed as if she might
sail away from the boat, even with nothing but the jib set. But the
schooner gained headway very slowly, and the boat neared her rapidly.
Now the man at the wheel gave up all hope of sailing away from his
pursuers. He abandoned the helm, and in a few moments two heads and two
guns showed over the rail, and two shots rang out. But the schooner was
rolling, and the aim was bad. Shirley and Burke fired at the two heads
as soon as they saw them, but the boat was rising and pitching, and
their shots were also bad.

For a minute there was no more firing, and then one of the heads and one
of the guns were seen again. Shirley was ready, and made his
calculations, and, as the boat rose, he drew a bead upon the top of the
rail where he saw the head, and had scarcely pulled his trigger when he
saw a good deal more than a head, for a man sprung up high in the air and
then fell backward.

The captain now ordered his men to rest on their oars, for, if the other
man on board should show himself, they could get a better shot at him
than if they were nearer. But the man did not show himself, and, on
consideration of his probable tactics, it seemed extremely dangerous to
approach the vessel. Even here they were in danger, but should they
attempt to board her, they could not tell from what point he might fire
down upon them, and some of them would surely be shot before they could
get a chance at him, and the captain did not wish to sacrifice any of his
men, even for a vessel, if it could be helped. There seemed to be no hope
of safely gaining their object, except to wait until the man should
become tired and impatient, and expose himself.

Suddenly, to the amazement of every one in the boat, for all heads were
turned toward the schooner, a man appeared, boldly running over her deck.
Shirley and Burke instantly raised their rifles, but dropped them again.
There was a shout from Maka, and an exclamation from the prisoner. Then
the man on deck stooped close to the rail and was lost to their sight,
but almost instantly he reappeared again, holding in front of him a
struggling pair of legs, feet uppermost. Then, upon the rail, appeared a
man's head and body; but it only remained there for an instant, for his
legs were raised still higher by the person behind him, and were then
propelled outward with such force that he went headlong overboard. Then
the man on deck sprang to the top of the rail, regardless of the rolling
of the vessel in the gentle swell, and waved his hands above his head.

"Inkspot!" shouted the captain. "Pull away, you fellows! Pull!"

The tall, barefooted negro sprang to the deck from his perilous position,
and soon reappeared with a line ready to throw to the boat.