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.