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."