"The seed may have been carried by birds from some place where melons are cultivated," the captain said, "possibly even from the mainland. I have heard that seeds are carried immense distances in that way. It may be that some seeds were washed overboard from a passing ship and some were cast ashore here. I do not care how they came here, I am well contented to find them."

"We will carry away the seeds of those we eat and plant them near our camp," said Stephen; "we shall soon get a supply without having to come here to fetch them. Besides, these will attract the pigs and enable us to get fresh meat without having the trouble of scrambling through the forest, and tearing ourselves and our clothes to pieces with thorns."

They cut as many melons as they could carry in addition to the pig, and then proceeded on their way. They followed the shore but a quarter of a mile further, when to their satisfaction they found themselves at the bay at the mouth of which the wreck was lying, and in another half-hour they were at home.

"We are certain to see boats coming," Stephen said, as he stood at the edge of the cliff and looked out over the sea, "unless they come from some of the islands on the other side and coast round to their landing-place. But on the other hand, there is the disadvantage that as they come in to the inlet they can hardly help seeing the wreck. We must make it a rule when we go down, to walk in the stream until we get to the edge of the sea, and then to keep along on the wet sand where our footprints will disappear directly. In that way they would have no clue whatever to the direction in which to look for us."

"Yes, it would be as well to observe that precaution," the Peruvian said. "When we once get a melon patch here we shall not have any reason to go down there very often. We have got everything we want from the wreck, and we have all the coast along to the left to explore, where we may make some useful discoveries."

Two days later they again went to the sea-shore and followed it to the left, leaving Jacopo this time behind. They had gone but a mile when they came upon a thorny bush covered with fruit, which the Peruvian pronounced to be guavas; they ate some of these and then proceeded on their way, and before long came upon a group of trees bearing a fruit considerably larger than an orange. Stephen had seen these when cruising on his first voyage among the islands, and pronounced them to be bread-fruit.

"Let us go no further," the Peruvian said; "we have found enough good things for one day, let us leave the rest for to-morrow."

Stephen laughed. "At any rate it is a good excuse for getting back again; and indeed I am quite ready to do so, for I have a strong desire to see what Jacopo has been up to in our absence, and would be willing to make a wager with you that we don't find him at the hut."

They gathered a quantity of the bread-fruit and passed the guava bush reluctantly.

"We must set to work to make a basket, captain," Stephen said, "we want such a thing badly. We can each make a good-sized bag out of sacking, which will do very well for melons and bread-fruit, but we want something that we can carry things like guavas in without crushing them."

On their return to the camp they found, as Stephen expected, that Jacopo was absent, and at once set out along the edge of the cliff until they reached the point at which they obtained a view into the bay. The wreck lay apparently deserted.

"Let us sit down and watch," Stephen said, "he may not have reached it yet. No, there he is." As he spoke, a figure came out from the door of the poop. "Just as I thought, captain. He has gone down to see if the gold is there. Look at him." Jacopo was evidently furious; they could see him waving his arms and stamping angrily on the deck, and then he went to the side and shook his fist in the direction of the tent.

"That fellow is dangerous, captain," Stephen said gravely.

The captain nodded.

"The safest plan will be to shoot him at once."

"No, we cannot do that; we had better tell him frankly tonight that we have moved the gold and buried it, lest the vessel should go to pieces in a storm, that we intend to give it up to any Spanish or Chilian ship that may come here; but that if it is a long time before we are rescued we shall then divide the gold between us, and that he will get a fair share of it."

"It would be better to shoot him," the captain said. "You were right, it is evident that he has been thinking over that money, and that as likely as not he has determined to possess the whole of it. However, we shall see how he behaves. I may as well tell him as soon as he arrives; when he sees that we mean fair by him he may possibly be content, at any rate for a time, especially as he must know as well as we do how small is the chance of a ship coming along. We are altogether out of the line of traffic. Ships going round the Horn keep far south of this on their way to China, while those for Peru and Chili keep up the coast; and there is no traffic at all from Peru or Chili to China or India."

"Now that we have everything we want here, captain, and know that we can hold on for a long time, we ought to begin to think over our plans for the future. If we had tools we could certainly build a craft that would carry us to Chili; but it would be a terrible business to build one with nothing but our swords to cut down trees, hew out the timbers, and shape planks. Still, if there is nothing else to be done we must do that. It is only a matter of time and patience, and we shall find that the hours hang very heavy on our hands when all our necessary work is done here. I should think that we ought to be able to build a craft of twenty tons in a couple of years at the outside; at any rate, I can think of no other plan for getting away."

"I have been thinking that we might steal a canoe when the natives come here," the Peruvian said.

"I daresay we might, captain; but if, as is probable, they come in large canoes, three of us would make but very little speed with one of them, and we should be pursued and overtaken in no time. You may be sure that they don't spend the night up on the hill, and probably when they go up they will leave some of their number on the beach to look after the canoes, and cook. But even if we did get away we could do nothing with such a canoe."

"I don't know," the captain said; "we might land with her on some small island, fit a deep keel on to her, and get up a couple of masts and lug-sails, which, of course, we should make beforehand."

"Yes, we might do that," Stephen agreed; "but the difficulty of carrying off the boat would be immense. And besides, she would have to be victualled; we should have to take food and water for a long journey. And to get our barrels filled with fresh water on board would be a long task, and utterly impossible to carry out in the short time that we should have to spare, even if the beach was entirely deserted."

"Yes, I see it is very difficult," the captain agreed; "but I would not mind running the risk rather than undertake two years' hard labour."

"I would not mind running the risk either, captain, if I saw any probability of success, but I own that this seems an impossibility. However, it may be that sometimes a small party comes alone, and that we could get possession of a canoe of manageable size. At any rate, we may as well prepare for such a chance before setting to work to build. We have plenty of canvas from the fore-topgallant sail and head-sails of the brig, and can make a couple of lug-sails fit for a large canoe and a couple for a smaller one, and get the spars ready; that would not take us a great deal of time, and if a bit of luck does fall in our way we should be ready to avail ourselves of it. That fellow has swam ashore now, so we had better be going back to the hut."

A quarter of an hour after they reached it Jacopo appeared. He stopped in surprise when he saw them.

"So you have been off to the wreck, Jacopo," the captain said. "We found as much fruit as we could carry, and have brought it straight back again; and finding that you had gone we went along the cliff and saw you on the deck. I suppose you went off to see if the gold was all safe. We have seen to that; we did not like to leave it there, for the ship will break up in the first gale, and the boxes might be swept into the deep water and be lost, so we carried it ashore. The gold, you know, is not ours, it is the property either of the Spanish or the Chilian government, and we shall hand it over to the first ship of either of these nations that may come along. If, however, as is likely enough, no ship comes near the island for years, and the Spanish, as may well be, have by that time lost their possessions on the west coast altogether, we may then consider it to be ours, and if we get away we propose to divide it into three equal shares. As officers we have a right to a larger share than you; but we have agreed that if you do your work here with us willingly and cheerfully we shall not stand on our rights, but shall give you an equal portion of it with ourselves. At present the gold is of no more value to any of us than so much sand, beyond the fact that if we build a craft, as the senor and I have been talking of doing, the boxes will be found excellent ballast, otherwise it is not worth a thought either way."

"You are very good, senor," Jacopo said humbly, "and I can promise that you shall have no reason to complain of me;" and without another word he turned, cut off a portion of the pig that was hanging from a bough near, and proceeded to prepare a meal.

"I hope that that has made the matter all right," the Peruvian said in a low voice to Stephen; "but we must watch him closely for a short time and see how he goes on. If he looks at the matter sensibly he must see that, as I said, the gold is of no value to any of us at present."

"He spoke too humbly altogether in my opinion," said Stephen; "but as it is evident that so long as we are here our interests are all alike, and that the three of us will have a better chance of escape than one would alone, he may give up all thought of the gold until the time approaches for us to make a start."

The next day they went down, unlaced the fore-topgallant sail from its yard where it lay on the beach, upon which it had been washed up after they had stripped the mast, and proceeded to cut from it two lug-sails, so as to save themselves the trouble of carrying the entire canvas up to the tent.



CHAPTER XII.

DEATH OF THE CAPTAIN.

The work of making up the sails occupied the next three days. Some of the canvas was unravelled for use as twine, and holes were made with long sharp thorns. Jacopo, when not engaged in cooking, worked diligently, seldom joining in the conversation between the captain and Stephen, a conversation which turned principally upon the best method of building and launching the proposed boat. Stephen's proposal was that they should, if possible, first get up the deck planks, which could be done by driving wedges between them and the beams, and after one was taken up, the work of the wedges could be aided by poles used as levers. When all the planks had been taken up as far forward as the water would permit them to work, he proposed to blow up the after-part of the ship, by which means they would obtain a large amount of beams and timbers that could be utilized for the boat, at much less cost of labour than would be entailed by the cutting down of trees. He proposed that the explosion should take place at night, as the roar and flash would be supposed by the natives of the islands near, to be something supernatural connected with the spot evidently held in such veneration.

"Even were they to row across to see if anything had taken place," he said, "which is about the last thing that they would be likely to do, they would no doubt make for their usual landing-place; and as the greater portion of the ship above water would have disappeared, anything that remained would not be likely to catch their eye."

He calculated that if the plan succeeded they ought to be able to build a boat of the required size in six months at the outside. The preparation of the planking had been the most arduous portion of the plan they had first laid out, and this would be done away with altogether; and as the nails would doubtless draw out of the planks, and they would obtain plenty of bolts and fastenings from the fragments of the wreck, the building of their boat was now comparatively simple, and Stephen even fancied that they might complete it in four months. No word was spoken as to the gold, but Stephen felt that a difficulty might finally arise out of it. He himself considered it as a lawful prize for the Chilian government; but the Peruvians were two to one against him, and although they might have no desire to return it to the Spaniards, who were detested by the great majority of Peruvians, they might set up a claim to it on their own account. However, he dismissed the idea from his mind as one that must be left to be determined by circumstances.

For a month they laboured assiduously. The planks were successfully taken up, and then, after much consideration, preparations were made for blowing up the vessel. The powder barrels were brought up, fuses were made, each six feet long, passing from barrel to barrel, and the chain of barrels was laid from the stern to the point where the deck was level with the water. This plan was adopted in order that the whole fabric should be shaken and broken up, while, had the whole force of the explosion taken place at one point, it would have entirely destroyed the timber there, while perhaps leaving a considerable portion still standing above the water.

The success of the explosion was complete, and in the morning there was no sign of the ship above water, while the bay was covered with floating wreckage. It took some time to collect this and bring it to shore, and then to tow it to the spot they had decided upon as being best suited for the launch. It was near the point of the bay, and the beach here sloped more steeply than elsewhere.

Their first work was to erect a platform sloping still more steeply, and covered with pieces of timber too short for other work. The craft would thus be built at an angle which would ensure her sliding down into the water, and during the progress of building she could be retained in her place by ropes fastened to a tree behind, and by blocks of wood under her stern-post. Among the timbers, one was found long enough to serve as the keel, and when this was laid down, and the stern-post and stem were fitted to it and securely bolted, they felt that the most difficult part of the work was done. Great labour was required to get out the copper bolts from the timbers, and in some cases the wood had to be split up before they could be extracted. The work of getting out the ribs, and fastening them in their places, was much less arduous than they had expected, for the greater portion of the timbers of the brig had come on shore, and among these they were able to find many with curves fairly suited to their requirements. Some required hacking off with cutlasses, while on to others pieces of planks were nailed to get the required curve. By the end of five months the hull was planked and decked, and all felt very proud of the work. It was caulked with oakum obtained from some of the least serviceable of the ropes of the brig, dipped in a resin that they found oozing from some trees.

The fore-topmast of the brig furnished a suitable mast, and was stepped and stayed; a bowsprit, boom, and gaff were constructed from the light spars; a mainsail, a foresail, and jib had been manufactured during the long evenings; and when the boat was completely rigged, the timbers down which she was to glide were smeared with lard, and carried down as far as possible under water, being kept in their places by heavy stones placed on the ends. It was a great day when the shores were knocked away, the ropes that held her stern being previously cast off, and she at once moved rapidly down into the water amid a shout of triumph from her constructors. She drew about three feet of water, and they calculated that when they had got the ballast, stores, and water on board she would sink another foot, and would then have three feet of free-board. They had already laid in a large stock of pork, which they had salted, obtaining the salt by filling pools in the rock with salt water, which was replenished as fast as it evaporated. A great stock of melons had also been cut. The barrels had been carefully examined, and placed in the lake to swell and become water-tight. Now that the boat was once in the water they were anxious to be off without the smallest possible delay, for were the natives to appear just at this moment all their labours would be thrown away. As soon, therefore, as they had gone on board, and found that the craft was perfectly water-tight, they hauled her towards the spot where they had buried the gold, dug up the boxes, and carried them down to the water's edge. The boat was then hauled in until she was in four feet of water. Stephen and Jacopo waded out, carrying the boxes on their heads, then the captain lifted them on board, and, taking them below, packed them along her keel.

By this time it was late in the afternoon, and they calculated that by beginning at daybreak, they would get the greater portion of their stores and water on board next day. It was a moonlight night, and, after indulging in supper and a long talk over the next day's work, they lay down to sleep.

It was some time before Stephen fell into a light sleep, being too excited at the thought of their approaching deliverance to compose himself to a sound slumber. He was awakened by a slight movement, and, turning round, saw in the moonlight Jacopo kneeling by the captain with a knife uplifted. With a shout Stephen sprung up, grasped his sword, which he had, ever since the gold was hidden, placed by his side when he lay down, and rushed at the Peruvian. The knife had, however, descended twice, and the assassin gained his feet just as Stephen fell upon him. So quick had been the latter's movement that the edge of his sword fell on the side of the murderer's face before he had time to place himself on guard. With a howl of pain and rage he sprang out from the end of the tent, and rushed to the narrow opening left in their barricade.

Stephen pursued him hotly, but the Peruvian was quicker footed, and, dodging among the trees, presently left him behind. Stephen returned to the tent, stirred up the fire to a blaze, and then bent over the captain. He saw at once that the latter was dead, the knife having twice struck him in the region of the heart. Stephen took up one of the loaded muskets and sat down at the entrance of the barricade. He felt completely crushed at the blow. His early suspicions of Jacopo had gradually died out, for the man had worked willingly and steadily; he had seemed perfectly contented with the prospect, and entered as keenly into the building of the cutter as Stephen and the captain had done. But it was evident now that he had all along meditated the murder, and had only delayed until the craft was built and fitted, the gold in its place, and everything ready for sailing save putting the stores on board, which he could manage by himself.



An hour before everything seemed clear, now Stephen blamed himself that he had prevented the captain from shooting the villain, on the day when the latter discovered that the gold had gone. And yet the act would have been murder, for there was no proof that Jacopo intended to play them false. What, Stephen asked himself, was he to do now? He was certain that the murderer would not permit him, without an effort, to sail away, and that he would be able to hide among the trees, and to spring out at any moment upon him as he came past laden with barrel or sack. It was not even clear how he could get a wink of sleep, for at any moment the assassin might crawl up and stab him.

So Stephen passed the night. He watched attentively for the slightest sound, but he did not think that the fellow was likely to return that night, for he was certain that he had wounded him very severely; and besides, the scoundrel would feel sure that he would keep a vigilant watch. As soon as day broke he got up, and went to the tent to verify a thought that had struck him during his watch. He counted the muskets; there were but twenty-two. A cold perspiration broke out on his forehead; his worst fears were realized. Jacopo had managed during the last day or two to take two of the muskets and carry them away with him, so that should his intentions to murder his two companions miscarry, he would be able to wage war against them. He would certainly have provided himself with a good store of ammunition. Difficult as the position had seemed before, the difficulties and dangers were increased tenfold now he knew that the Peruvian was provided with firearms.

There would be no occasion for an open attack. The fellow would only have to hide up in the undergrowth and shoot him down as he passed. It was a danger against which there was no providing; at any moment from the time he left the tent he would be liable to be shot down by the invisible foe. Moving about almost mechanically, Stephen boiled some water in a very thin-skinned gourd, which they had found the best substitute for a kettle. It was necessary to use a fresh one frequently, but they were plentiful in the woods, and a supply was always kept on hand. As soon as it boiled, he threw in a handful of coffee that had been roasted and pounded a day or two before, laid a chop cut from the pig on the embers, and put biscuits on to toast beside it. He had no thought of being in danger, for he felt sure that Jacopo would not run the risk of approaching the tent. After the meal was cooked and eaten, he sat for a long time pondering over what had best be done.

His first impulse had been to take to the woods, carrying a couple of muskets and a store of provisions sufficient for a day or two, and to hunt the Peruvian down. In this case each would be ignorant of the other's position and movements, and neither would have any advantage over the other; but, on the other hand, while he was hunting Jacopo, the latter might be putting a sufficient store of melons and perhaps the carcase of a pig on board the boat, and making off with it. The gold was there, and the assassin would be ready to run any risk to get away with it. He would doubtless prefer to silence the only voice that could give evidence against him, but he would know that the chance of Stephen's ever making his escape by himself would be so small that it might be disregarded. Stephen thought that, at any rate, the risk of the Peruvian's attempting to set sail that day was small. He would be suffering intense pain from the wound, and would probably be incapable of making any great exertion; but most of all he trusted to Jacopo's thirst for vengeance to keep him for a while on the island. Eager as he might be to sail away with the gold, he might well postpone his departure for a few days, until he had avenged himself for the wound that had been inflicted on him.

Jacopo had one advantage over him. He could select a spot where he would at once command the path down to the shore and keep his eye upon the cutter, while from the camp Stephen was unable to obtain a view into the bay.

As he was thinking the matter over, Stephen's eye fell upon the block and rope by which the barrels had been hoisted up. It had for a long time been disused, for they had found it much shorter to clear a path from the spot where they descended from the cliff direct to the little bay, thereby saving at least two-thirds of the distance, a matter of importance while they were engaged upon their boat-building. The idea at once presented itself that he might leave the spot by this means without the knowledge of the Peruvian, and would thereby turn the tables on him. He was about to put the loop at the end of the rope around his body, and swing himself over, when he hesitated. He might be driven to adopt the same plan that he credited Jacopo with the intention of following. After some thought, he took some seventy pounds of salt pork from the barrel and put it in a sack, round which he fastened the rope in such a manner that as soon as the strain on it was relieved it could be shaken off. Then he climbed out on to the bough, and poured a little melted lard on the sheave of the block to prevent it from creaking. Then he lowered the barrel down, shook off the fastening, and drew up the rope again.

Then he sent down a large sack full of melons; this done, there was nothing to do but to wait until dusk. He kept up a good fire all day, thinking it probable that Jacopo would have placed himself where he could see the smoke rising. He calculated that the man would suppose that he would be likely to attempt to leave his post after dark, and would then place himself somewhere on the path to shoot him as he went past. As soon as it was dark, he lowered four of the muskets, with a bag of ammunition, and then followed himself. He first carried the muskets and ammunition down to the shore, and then made two trips with the pork and melons. Then he rolled one of the water-casks, that had already been filled, down the sand into the sea, and, entering the water breast-deep, pushed it before him until he came to the rope from the stern of the craft to the shore. Returning, he fetched the pork, melons, muskets, and ammunition. Then he waded and swam out to the cutter, holding his sword in his teeth, pulled himself noiselessly up, and then, sword in hand, descended into the cabin, where he thought it was just possible that the Peruvian might be sleeping. The light of the moon was sufficient to show him that it was empty.

Ascending to the deck again, he slackened out the headrope attached to a heavy stone that served as an anchor; then he hauled on the rope ashore until he felt the stern touch the sand. Making fast the rope, he lowered himself down and waded to shore. Then he brought off the muskets and ammunition, pork and melons on his head, and lastly got the barrel of water alongside, put a sling round it, fastened the main halliards to it, and hoisted it on board. He was now in a position to make off, but still altogether inadequately provisioned for such a voyage as he meditated, and after some thought he determined to return on shore.

He had at first thought of remaining on board and hoisting the sail. This would attract the attention of Jacopo as soon as it was light enough for him to see it, and probably in his fury at being outwitted the man would rush frantically down, and try to get on board; but in that case Stephen should have to shoot him in cold blood, which he felt he could not bring himself to do.

He decided finally upon going on shore, where he could meet the man on equal terms. He accordingly hoisted the sail, and then landed with a couple of loaded muskets, taking his place behind a tree a short distance up the path, and waiting until morning. The various journeys had taken him some time, and it was now, he judged, about three o'clock. As soon as it was light his watch began in earnest. Contrary to his expectations, it was fully an hour before he heard any sign of Jacopo coming. He accounted for the delay on the supposition that the Peruvian would think perhaps that although he had outwitted him and got on board, he must be altogether unprovided with stores, and unable, therefore, to put to sea. He would suppose then that he had returned to shore, especially as there were no signs of him on board the craft.

At last he saw him coming down the path with a stealthy, crouching step, with one musket slung behind him, and the other in his hand ready for instant action. He was a dreadful sight. His face was bound up with a sleeve cut from his shirt. His forehead was encrusted and his hair matted with dried blood, with which also his linen jacket and trousers were thickly stained. Stephen had chosen a tree round whose foot was a thick growth of bush, and he now proceeded to put into execution the plan that he had decided upon. Stooping behind the trunk of the tree, he thrust up from among the bushes his cap on the top of a ramrod, taking care that the upper part only just showed above the leaves. Almost instantly Jacopo levelled his rifle and fired. Stephen gave a loud cry and dropped the cap. The Peruvian, with a yell of exultation, threw away the gun, drew his knife, and bounded forward. As he came up, Stephen sprang out, and brought the butt end of his gun down with all his strength on the Peruvian's head, striking him senseless to the ground. Stephen picked up the murderer's knife and placed it in his belt, took the musket from his shoulder, and then with a cord he had brought with him bound his feet, and turning him over fastened his wrists tightly together.

Then he raised him, and placed him in a sitting position against the tree, passed the cord several times round him and the trunk, knotting it firmly behind the tree. Then he went away to the stream and cut a couple of gourds, filled them with water, and returned. Jacopo had now opened his eyes, and was looking round him in a dazed condition. When he saw Stephen approaching he made a struggle to rise.

"It is of no use, Jacopo," Stephen said quietly; "your power of mischief is at an end. You have murdered your captain, and you would have murdered me, so now your life is justly forfeited. Did I give you the fate you deserve, I would bring down the body of your victim, tie it to you, and leave you to die of thirst. Fortunately for you I am a British officer, and I cannot be both judge and executioner."

The Peruvian's reply was a volley of curses and execrations.

"Will you drink some water?" Stephen asked, without paying any attention to his words.

The Peruvian's only reply was to spit furiously at him. Stephen placed one of the gourds on the ground close to him, saying: "You will think better of it presently", poured the contents of the other over Jacopo's head; and then returning to the boat, brought off another coil of rope with which he still more securely fastened Jacopo to the tree, and then went up to the tent. He spent the day in carrying down the store of provisions, arms, and ammunition, asking Jacopo each time he passed him whether he would have some water. For some time the prisoner refused; but the agony of thirst caused by the fever of his wounds at last overcame his resolution, and he cried loudly, as Stephen approached him, for water. Stephen held the gourd to his lips until he drank off the whole of its contents, then he went and refilled both gourds, poured one over the man's head, set the other down beside him, and continued his work.

By nightfall he had carried everything on board, and there remained but to take the other water-casks alongside. Jacopo had drunk several gourds full of water during the day, but by evening he became delirious from fury and the fever of his wounds; Stephen therefore undid all his fastenings save those round his ankles, and took up his post near him. All night the man raved incessantly. From time to time Stephen got up and poured water between his lips, and in the morning cut a very ripe melon, squeezed the juice from the pulp, and gave it to him to drink. Then he went down and towed the other water-barrels to the cutter and got them on board, and afterwards returned to his prisoner. For three days the delirium continued. Stephen kept the bandages round his head constantly moistened with water, and gave him melon juice to drink. The third night the ravings sank to a whisper, and presently became silent, and Stephen thought that all would soon be over. However, the man's breathing became quiet and regular, and in the morning he opened his eyes with consciousness in them.

"You here still!" he murmured, as Stephen bent over him.

"Yes, Jacopo; villain as you are, I could not leave you to die."

"How long have I been here?" the man murmured after a long pause.

"It is four days since you attacked me. Now that you are sensible I shall set sail, but I will first carry you to the side of the stream. Now that you have got through the fever you will recover. I have left at the tent one of the muskets and a store of ammunition, so that you will be able to shoot pigs; and there is, as you know, an abundance of melons, bread-fruit, and guavas, and I daresay you will discover other things ere long. I trust that in the time that is before you, you will repent of your sins, and try and make your peace with God. I have buried the body of the man you murdered."

With some difficulty Stephen got Jacopo on to his back, carried him to the stream, and laid him down at its edge in the shade of the trees; then he placed within reach of him a number of melons, bread-fruit, and some biscuits. He had long since taken the rope off his ankles.

"I do not understand why you have done all this for me. I would have killed you if I could; you have treated me as if I were your brother. I know that it is of no use my asking you to take me with you, but will you do me one last favour?"

"Certainly, if it is in my power, Jacopo."

"Will you bring the musket and ammunition down here? I could not go near there again."

Stephen nodded. "I will get them for you," he said, and at once started for the tent. He first pulled this and the storetent down, rolled them together, and lowered them to the side of the pool, climbed out and cut the fastening of the block, and let it and the rope fall beside them. He then threw over the case of swords which he had not thought worth taking away, and then getting the gun and ammunition, he returned to Jacopo.

"There they are," he said. "Here are three hundred rounds of ammunition; by the side of the pool under the cliff you will find the two tents, the rope, and ten spare swords, which may prove useful to you. Here are three gourds full of water close to your hand, and by reaching over you can fill them as often as you like. In a week I have no doubt that you will be strong enough to walk. Is there anything else I can do?"

"There is nothing, senor. May God bless you for your kindness!"

"And may God pardon you!" Stephen said; adding as he turned away, "It may be that some day a passing ship may carry you off."

Then turning he walked slowly back to the shore. Wretch as this man was, he felt a pang at leaving him behind. But he was sure that even if he could overcome his repugnance to him as the murderer of the captain, he could not take him with him, for he would never be safe for a moment. With returning health and strength would come afresh the lust for the gold, which might soon overcome any feeling of gratitude for the treatment that he had received.

When he reached the shore near the boat, he cast off the stern rope and then swam on board, hoisted the jib and foresail, pulled up the anchor, and took his place at the tiller.

The breeze was a very light one, and for a time the cutter moved along but slowly, but as it got beyond the shelter of the land it felt the wind, and began to spin fast through the water. Stephen's spirits, which had been greatly depressed for the last few days, rose as the little craft heeled to the breeze. Nearly six months had been spent on the island, but at last he was free. As to his course, he had but the sun by day and the stars by night to guide him; but he knew that the vessel had been blown almost due west, and that by heading east he should make the coast either of Chili or Peru. He found to his satisfaction that the boat would keep her course very near the wind, that she came about easily and rapidly, and was certainly swift under her canvas.

She carried no topmast, as they had agreed that, with only three hands, it would be better to avoid all complications of gear. In the middle of the day the wind fell a good deal. At the time he was abreast of a large island, and he presently saw a war canoe shoot out from the shore. Lashing the tiller, he ran down below, brought up the twenty-three muskets, loaded them all, and laid them against the bulwark astern. Then he took his place at the helm again, and looked anxiously across the water in the hope of seeing a dark line that would tell of the breeze freshening again. He knew enough, however, of the winds prevalent among the islands to be sure that it would not strengthen much for the next two or three hours. From the number of paddles going on each side of the canoe he calculated that she must carry from forty to fifty men. His hope was that they would be unacquainted with firearms, and would draw off when he began to fire.

When they came within about four hundred yards he took up a musket and fired, taking aim at some little distance from the side of the boat. At the report the paddles ceased instantly, and for a time it was evident that great confusion reigned among the rowers. While this was going on Stephen reloaded his piece. After some five minutes' delay the men recommenced paddling, but at a pace that contrasted strongly with the rapid and eager stroke which they had before rowed. Stephen waited this time until they were within two hundred and fifty yards, and then lying down on the deck and resting the barrel on the bulwarks he took a steady aim and fired. One of the men standing up in the bow fell overboard. The paddling ceased again, and a hubbub of voices was heard. As she lay motionless Stephen fired shot after shot. One or two of these hit the canoe, two or three others went wide, but the rest did execution among the crowded mass. By the noise it was evident that some wished to go on, others to retire, and after discharging twelve shots Stephen began to hastily reload the pieces he had fired.

The cessation of fire apparently reassured the war party, for when he had reloaded six of them the paddles again began to work. Stephen at once recommenced firing, and his eighth shot brought down a chief who was standing prominently in the stern, and was evidently in command. His fall had an instantaneous effect. With a yell of terror the natives ceased paddling. Then some began to back and others to row, and the canoe turned slowly round and then sped away at a rate as fast as it had come up, although the number of paddlers was markedly decreased. Satisfied that they would not return, Stephen reloaded all the muskets and then went below for his first meal on board. The cabin would have seemed a poor place to yachtsmen, with its rough beams and timbers and its discoloured planking, but no yachtsman ever felt prouder of a craft than Stephen did of the boat in whose building he had taken a share. There were no bulk-heads, the hull being open from end to end. The water-cask and provisions had been stowed aft the mast.



One of the barrels served as a table, the iron plate that had been taken from the floor of the ship's galley had been placed forward of the mast on a layer of sand three inches thick, and a forecastle hatch had been placed above it to serve as an exit for the smoke. A store of wood, the result of their ship-building operations, was piled in the bow. Stephen did not trouble to cook, but boiled some water over some chips of wood, made himself a cup of coffee, or rather the half of a small gourd of coffee, ate a melon and a biscuit, and presently went up on deck again. At three o'clock a light breeze sprung up, and this, an hour later, strengthened to a heavy blow. Stephen sailed on until midnight, then reefed the mainsail and fastened the boom amidships, lowered the foresail and hauled the jib to weather, and having thus laid the cutter head to wind lay down on the deck and slept soundly until daybreak. The next day he passed two or three islands, but all at a considerable distance. Beyond these no land was visible, and he hoped that he was fairly beyond the Archipelago with its hostile natives.

Day after day passed without incident. Stephen always lay to at night for a few hours, and calculated that the rate at which he sailed during the remaining eighteen was, allowing for calms, some four knots an hour. On the sixth day the appearance of the sky changed, and Stephen prepared for bad weather by fully reefing his mainsail. The clouds banked up rapidly and the wind rose. It was southerly, and the boat tore rapidly through the water. Two hours later Stephen let the foresail run down, and under the reduced sail the boat went more lightly and easily over the rising sea. By evening he had stowed the mainsail altogether, and slackening the jib sheet held on his course. By midnight it was blowing a gale. He raised the gaff four or five feet, put lashings round the sail to prevent its blowing out, and then hauling on the weather sheet let her lay to, taking now his place at the tiller, so as to be able to bring her head up did she pay off the wind.

It was an anxious night, but the little craft was lightly ballasted and buoyant, and rose to the seas without taking any great quantity of water over the bows. For two days the storm continued. Stephen never left the tiller during that time save to run below at intervals and snatch a mouthful of food. After the first two or three hours he had felt no fear whatever as to the ability of the craft to weather the gale, but it was a long strain, and he was deeply thankful when the wind abated sufficiently for him to be able to hoist the reefed mainsail again and to lie to comfortably. As soon as this was done he went below, and slept for twelve hours. The sun was shining brightly when he awoke, a light breeze was blowing, and save for a long swell the sea had gone down. He indulged in a hearty breakfast before proceeding on his way. Then he shook out the reefs in the mainsail, hoisted it, got up the foresail, slacked off the weather sheet of the jib, and again headed east.

One morning ten days later he saw the sun rise behind a broken outline instead of the line of the horizon, and knew that this could be nothing but the hills of the mainland. Lofty as these were he might be still a hundred and fifty miles from them, but the weather was fair, the wind fresh, the boat travelling at six knots an hour, and by mid-day to-morrow he would be close to land. Whether it was Chili or Peru that lay ahead of him he had no means of knowing, but he believed it was the former, for he had headed rather to the south of east and felt sure that he should strike the coast somewhere on the long seaboard of Chili. He was the more convinced of this as two days before he had seen an island far to the north of him and guessed it to be either San Felix or San Ambrose, and had shaped his course rather more to the south in consequence. That night he was too excited to turn in as usual, but held on his course. By morning the land lay little more than twenty miles away, and he recognized at once the outline of the hills that he had passed when sailing north, and knew where Valparaiso lay, some fifty miles further south. He changed his course accordingly, and at four o'clock in the afternoon dropped his stone anchor a hundred yards off the quay of the Chilian port.



CHAPTER XIII.

PRIZE-MONEY.

Stephen busied himself in stowing away his sails. By the time he had done so a small crowd had collected on the quay looking with surprise and wonder at the little craft with its unpainted sides and rough appearance. In a short time a boat with a port official rowed alongside, and stepping on deck the officer looked round, in surprise at seeing only one person on board. Stephen had, before arriving at the port, donned a clean suit of linen trousers and jacket; his cap was out of all shape, and the badge on its front had faded into a blur; he was barefooted, and his hair had grown almost to his shoulders. The aspect of the boat was almost as surprising as that of its solitary occupant. There were no signs of paint visible, the work was rough, the stanchions of various sizes, some new in appearance, and some blackened with age and sea-water.

"Who are you, senor?" the official asked, "and what craft is this?"

"The craft has no name, senor, though we who built her thought of naming her the Deliverer. I myself am Stephen Embleton, flag-midshipman to Admiral Lord Cochrane. May I ask if the admiral is now in port?"

"He is," the official replied.

"May I beg you to send off a shore boat by which I may despatch a message to the admiral?"

"Your story is a strange one," the official said gravely. "I myself have seen the young officer, you state yourself to be, in company with the admiral, but I am bound to say that I do not recognize you."

"I am not surprised at that," Stephen said with a smile. "In the first place, I should imagine that my face is the colour of mahogany from wind and sun; in the second, my hair has not been cut for six months; and lastly, this suit of clothes, though excellent in its way, is scarcely in accordance with my rank."

"I will myself row off to the admiral's ship," the official said, "and convey your message to him. What shall I tell him?"

"I thank you, sir. Will you please say that Stephen Embleton is on board this craft, that I am alone, and for certain reasons cannot leave it, and pray him either to come himself or to send a trusted officer with a party of sailors to take charge of it."

The official saluted him gravely. He was by no means sure of the sanity of this young fellow, but his curiosity had been aroused by his appearance and that of his craft, and he therefore condescended to undertake a mission that at ordinary times he would have scorned. Stephen watched the boat row alongside a frigate anchored a mile away. Shortly afterwards he saw a stir. A boat was pulled up to the accommodation ladder. A party of sailors then took their places in her, and two figures came down the gangway and the boat pushed off. A few minutes later it reached the side of the cutter. Stephen saluted as Lord Cochrane sprang nimbly on board.

"My dear lad!" the admiral exclaimed, grasping his hand, "I gave you up for lost many months ago, and we have all mourned for you deeply. Where have you been? what have you been doing? what on earth have you done to yourself? and where did you get this extraordinary craft?"

"I have been cast away on an island some twelve hundred miles to the west. Only three of us were saved. We built this craft between us. One of my comrades is dead, the other remains on the island, and I have sailed her back single-handed. I think this, sir, will account for my somewhat strange appearance."

"Fully, fully, lad. Well, you must tell me all about it afterwards. Why did you not come direct in the boat to my ship instead of sending for me?"

"Because I was afraid of anyone else coming on board until you had sent someone you could trust to take possession of her?"

"Why, bless me!" Lord Cochrane said with a laugh, "I should not have taken her to be as valuable as all that. She is most creditable as a specimen of the work of three shipwrecked men, and I should say from her appearance as I rowed up to her that she was fairly fast. She might be worth a good deal as an exhibition if you had her in the Thames, but she would not fetch many hundred dollars here; though I have no doubt that, when properly painted up and in trim, she would make an excellent little coaster."

"It is the cargo and not the ship, sir, that is valuable."

"What does it consist of?"

"It consists of gold, sir. There are five hundred thousand dollars stowed in boxes."

The admiral looked at him in astonishment.

"Five hundred thousand dollars, Mr. Embleton! Are you in earnest?"

"Quite so, sir; the ship you sent me off to with twelve hands was laden with military stores and money for the payment of the Spanish troops. I was fortunate enough to get on board and capture her just before the storm burst. When she was wrecked, on an island of whose name I am ignorant, her stern, where the gold was stowed, was fortunately in only four feet of water, and we had, therefore, no difficulty in getting at the boxes and carrying them on shore, where we buried them until we had built this craft."

The admiral ran down the companion into the cabin and saw the boxes lying side by side along the length of the keel.

"I congratulate you heartily," he said to Stephen, "this is by far the richest prize that has fallen into our hands. You did perfectly right in sending for me, for, in faith, I would not trust this treasure out of my sight on any consideration, until I handed it over to the Chilian government, after taking care to deduct the fleet's share of the prize-money. It will be welcome, I can tell you, for the pay of the fleet is terribly in arrear. The treasury is empty, and there are no means of refilling it. Properly speaking, the whole of the fleet's share of the money should go to you, but the rules of the service are arbitrary."

The conversation had been in English, and the admiral going on deck ordered the officer, who had remained sitting in his gig, to tow the cutter alongside the flag-ship. The officer at once gave the necessary orders. Two of the men jumped on board and hauled up the anchor, and nothing but the presence of the admiral prevented a burst of laughter among the boat's crew as the stone came to the surface. As it was, there was a broad grin on their faces. The two men resumed their places in the boat, and the cutter was towed to the side of the flag-ship. Lord Cochrane ordered a whip to be sent down with slings, and himself superintended the bringing up of the boxes, whose weight in comparison to their size excited lively surprise among the sailors who brought them up to the deck. The slings were placed round them one by one, and they were hoisted to the deck of the frigate, and carried into the admiral's cabin.

After the last box had been swung up, the admiral and Stephen went up the accommodation ladder to the deck. The officers were gathered round the boxes wondering at their weight.

"What should you say they have in them, gentlemen?" Lord Cochrane asked.

"I should say that they contained specie," the captain said, "had it not been out of the question that so great an amount could be collected in Chili."

"I am happy to inform you, gentlemen, that those boxes contain Spanish gold, and that they are a lawful prize captured from the enemy by a boat's crew from this ship, under the command of my flag-midshipman, Mr. Embleton. Every man on board, therefore, in proportion to his rank, will come in for a share of prize-money, and for this you will have to thank your fellow-officer here."

Hitherto none of them had recognized Stephen, but had been wondering who the strange figure was, that had come on board with the admiral. They still looked almost incredulous, until Stephen stepped forward and held out his hand to his special friends and addressed them by name.

"Why, is it really you, Don Estevan? We had all given you up for lost. We are glad indeed to see you again."

The other officers all came round and heartily greeted Stephen, all asking questions together about his long absence and the wonderful prize of which the admiral had spoken.

"I will answer as many questions as I can presently," Stephen protested; "but, in the first place, I must have a bath, and change my clothes, and have my hair cut. Are my things still on board, and is anyone else in my cabin?"

He learned to his great satisfaction that his cabin was as he had left it.

"For weeks the admiral hoped that you would return. There was, indeed, much anxiety about the boat when we saw the storm coming on. Whether you had gained the brig before it burst, of course none of us knew. We could only hope that you had done so. The storm was a terrible one here. While some thought that the brig might have foundered at once when it struck her, it was certain that if she weathered the first blow she would have to run for it. It was one of the worst storms, people here say, that has been experienced on the coast for many years, alike in its fury and in its duration, and all agreed that she would have been blown at least a thousand miles off the land before the gale spent its force. As the wind continued in the same quarter for a long time it would have taken the brig weeks to beat back against it, but when two months passed without your return, all concluded that you had either sunk before gaining the ship, or that she had gone down in the gale, or been wrecked among some of the islands into whose neighbourhood she must have been blown. However, the admiral continued to hope long after the rest of us had given you up. At the end of two months he appointed me his flag-midshipman to fill your place, as he especially said, until your return. This being the case, I have not shifted my berth, and your cabin has remained unoccupied."

One of the officers gave orders that a tub should be at once taken to Stephen's cabin filled with water, and that the ship's barber should hold himself in readiness when called upon.

When Stephen came out, an hour later, dressed in uniform, and with his hair a reasonable length, he was told that the admiral had requested his presence in his cabin as soon as he was dressed, but had ordered the message not to be given to him until he came on deck.

"Now, lad, let me hear the whole story," he said; "but first fill your glass from that bottle. I should imagine that you have almost forgotten the taste of wine."

"I have not touched it since two days after we were wrecked, sir; but on the whole we have not done at all badly with regard to food."

"In the first place, what has become of your boat's crew?"

"They are all dead, sir. Some were killed or washed overboard during the storm; the rest were drowned at the time of the wreck."

"That is a bad business. However, begin at the beginning, and tell the story your own way. I have plenty of time to listen to it, and the fuller you make it the better."

Stephen related the story, from the time of his leaving the ship until he had anchored in the bay. As he saw that the admiral wished to have full details, he told the story at length, and the sun was setting by the time he brought it to a conclusion.

"You have done wonderfully well, lad," Lord Cochrane said warmly when he had ceased speaking, "wonderfully well indeed; no one could have done better. The arrangements throughout were excellent, and you showed a noble spirit in delaying your departure for four days in order to assist the poor wretch who had murdered your companion, and would have murdered yourself in his greed for gold. I do not praise you for bringing the treasure back here; it is the conduct that I should expect from every British officer; but, at the same time, it is clear that you had it in your power to leave it buried on that island, so that you could have gone back in some craft, and brought it away with you. I shall represent your conduct in the strongest light to the government. By the rules of the service, of course, you are entitled only to a junior officer's share of the ship's portion of the prize-money, but I shall certainly suggest that your case shall be specially considered. Now, I will take you ashore with me. I am going to a dinner given by the president, and I shall create a sensation when I state that I have, after deducting a fifth for the fleet's share of the prize-money, four hundred thousand dollars to hand over to them.

"I shall take you first to my wife. She will be delighted to see you again, and so will the children. You can give her an outline of your story. If you had been three days later you would not have found me here. For the last four months I have been endeavouring to get my ships fitted out, but in vain, and I am putting to sea no stronger than when I came back, and there can be no doubt that, profiting by their last lesson, the Spaniards will have made Callao stronger than before. However, we will do something which shall be worthy of us, though I fear that it will not be the capture of Callao."

A few minutes later the admiral's gig was alongside, and the admiral, his captain, and Stephen went ashore. Lady Cochrane greeted Stephen as warmly and kindly as her husband had done, and the children were exuberant in their delight at the return of their friend.

"He has a wonderful story to tell you, my dear," Lord Cochrane said. "It has taken him more than three hours to give me the details, and you will have a greater treat listening to them this evening than I shall have at this state dinner."

"It was too bad, Don Estevan," one of his friends said to Stephen next morning, "that the admiral should have taken you on shore with him yesterday after you had been with him all the afternoon. We had been looking forward to having you all to ourselves, and hearing your story. You may imagine that we are all burning with curiosity to hear how it is that you came back all alone in that curious craft astern, and, above all, how you have brought with you this prize-money. All we have heard at present is that the whole of the boat's crew that went with you are dead. I promised the others that I would not ask any questions until our morning's work was over, so that we could hear your story together."

"It is just as well not to tell it by driblets," Stephen said. "It is really a long story, as it consists of a number of small things, and not of any one special incident. It can hardly be cut as short as I should like to cut it, for I am but a poor hand at a yarn."

After the usual work of exercising the men at making sail, preparing for action, and gun and cutlass exercise had been performed, anchor again cast, ropes coiled up, and everything in apple-pie order, the Chilian officers rallied round Stephen, and, taking his seat on the breech of a gun, he told them the story, but with a good deal less detail than he had given to Lord Cochrane. This relation elicited the greatest admiration on the part of his hearers. The fact that he and two others alone, and without any tools save swords, should have built the stout little craft astern, and that he should, single-handed, have sailed her some thirteen or fourteen hundred miles was to them nothing short of marvellous. All had, the afternoon before, gone on board of her, and had seen that she only wanted paint to be a handsome little boat. Unaccustomed to manual labour, it seemed wonderful that three men—two of whom were officers—should have even attempted such work with only the materials from a wreck to build with.

Stephen had passed very lightly over his four days' nursing of Jacopo, but this incident surprised them more than anything else, save the construction of the cutter. That, after the man had murdered the captain and attempted to shoot Stephen, with the intention of obtaining possession of the whole of the gold, the latter should have nursed him back to life instead of finishing him at once, seemed to them an incomprehensible piece of folly.

"But the man was a murderer, senor; he deserved death. Why should you have troubled about him, especially when, as you say, the natives might have come at any moment and taken the craft that had cost you so much pains and labour, and carried off the treasure."

"You see, when he became powerless, he was no longer an enemy," Stephen replied. "He was a criminal, it is true; but the temptation had been great. The man saw a chance of possessing himself of what to him was a fabulous treasure; better men than he have yielded to such a temptation; and though I do not say that he did not deserve death, the punishment of seeing the failure of his plans, and of being left, probably for life, a prisoner on that island was a severe one indeed. He will, at any rate, have time to repent of his sins, and some day he may be picked up by a passing vessel, and thus be able to retrieve his errors. At any rate, he will do no harm there."

"Well, no ill came from it," one of the officers said; "but I own that, for my part, as soon as I had knocked him down, I should have put my musket to his head and blown out his brains, and should never have repented the action afterwards."

"I might have done so," Stephen said, "had I overtaken him directly after he had murdered my companion; but, you see, twenty-four hours had passed, and I had had time to think how great had been the temptation to which he had yielded. Besides, everything had gone well: I had obtained possession of the cutter, and had partially victualled her; I had completely turned the tables on him, and instead of his lying in wait for me I was lying in wait for him. He was practically at my mercy, as I could have shot him down without giving him any chance whatever. When one has got things all his own way one can afford to be lenient. The man had been already very severely wounded, and his power for doing harm was at an end. At any rate, I am very glad now that I did not kill him. And you must remember that I owed him something for his work upon the cutter, from which he was not now to profit, but which was to afford me the means of returning here and bringing back the treasure from which we shall all obtain some benefit."

"That is all true, Don Estevan; but the real reason of all was that you pitied the poor wretch, and so were ready to run a great risk to succour him. We might not have acted as you did, but at least we shall all love you the better for it. As to the prize-money, it is ridiculous that our share of it should be as large as yours, and I hope the government will see that, under the circumstances, you have a right to a handsome slice of it, for indeed, after the wreck of the vessel, it seems to me that their claim to it was fairly lost."

"I cannot see that. It was never out of my possession."

"I don't know," the other laughed. "They were two to one against you, and probably held the opinion that they had as much right to its possession as you."

"If they had been Spaniards it might have been so," Stephen agreed; "but you see the treasure had never been theirs, and from the moment that the ship surrendered they had nothing whatever to do with it."

"Nothing except to take possession of it, and I grant that the temptation to do so must have been strong."

"I felt that," Stephen replied; "but until the vessel was completed and victualled and a means of escape open, the gold was absolutely useless, and therefore the question as to its possession would not really arise until we neared land. I did think it probable that the two Peruvians might then put in a claim to at least one of the boxes of money each; and I had made up my mind that if they would content themselves with this, I should be willing for them to land somewhere along the coast with it, rather than run the risk of a fight, especially as I could not possibly have kept awake night and day, and they must therefore have had me in their power. I am sure that the captain meant honestly, and under the circumstances his claim to a portion of the money, that he and his companion had done as much as I had to save, would not have been an unfair one."

"It would have been terrible had the natives arrived when you were building the boat, Don Estevan."

"It would have been terrible for them," Stephen said, "but it would have hurt us but little, for had they discovered our fort they could never have taken it. With our twenty-four muskets we could have held it against any number of savages, while as for the boat it would have been useless to them, and they could scarcely have injured it. Even when it was finished there was nothing on board to attract them. They might have knocked away the props and tumbled her over, but they would have had to blockade us in our fort while they did anything to her; for otherwise we could have moved along the cliff to a point where we should have commanded the boat, and could there have kept up a fire that would have speedily driven them from her.

"No; we had no fear whatever of the natives from the time we had once finished our wattle-work of thorny creepers until the day when we got her into the water. After that we were certainly horribly anxious, for they might have taken it into their heads to tow her away with them, for the purpose of breaking her up at their leisure, for the sake of the bolts and nails."

In the afternoon Lord Cochrane took Stephen ashore with him. "The president and the council desire to thank you personally, Mr. Embleton, as I told you last night as we came off. After dinner I gave them a brief recital of your adventure, and said publicly that I considered you were entitled to a handsome share of the prize-money which you had almost miraculously brought back, and the president thoroughly endorsed my views. The money is of the greatest consequence to them at the present moment, for they are absolutely crippled, so much so that I deemed it right, some time back, to offer to hand over to them my share of the prize-money for the captures we had effected. They declined the offer, to my regret, for though I am far from being a rich man, I would willingly have given the money in order to get to sea again."

Stephen was warmly thanked by President O'Higgins for his great service to the republic, and highly complimented on his conduct. He announced to him that he and the council had decided to present him with the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars as a recognition of his services.

"We consider," he said, "that you deserve a much larger sum, but the circumstances of the state are such that we feel it is impossible for us to do more than the barest justice at the present time. We have, however, decided upon raising you at once to the rank of lieutenant. Lord Cochrane told me last night that such promotion, before you had served your full time, was quite contrary to the rules of the service; but we considered this an altogether exceptional case, and that you have amply proved yourself to be fully capable of carrying out the duties of any rank to which you may attain."

Stephen in a few words thanked the president and the council very heartily, and then retired with the admiral.

"That is a nice little nest-egg for you, Stephen," the latter said. "I consider that it ought to have been fifty thousand, but their necessities are so great that they cannot afford to be generous."

"I consider that it is immense, sir," Stephen replied, "and had never any thought of a reward for doing my duty."

"You will not want the money out here, lad," the admiral went on; "at any rate, your share of the ship's prize-money will be ample for anything that you may require. If you like, therefore, I will hand over your box along with my own share of the prize-money to the firm here who act as my bankers, and they will give you an order on their bankers in London, which you can send to your father to draw and invest in your name or otherwise, as you may prefer."

"Thank you very much, sir. You will, I hope, be kind enough to let me continue to perform the duties of your flag-midshipman."

"You will become my flag-lieutenant, Stephen. The post is vacant, for Don Valdes was yesterday appointed to the command of the Independencia, an American-built corvette of twenty-eight guns that has been purchased and fitted out."

On the 12th of September, 1819, the fleet set sail from Valparaiso. It consisted of the O'Higgins, San Martin, Lautaro, Independencia, Galvarino, Araucano, and Puyrredon, mounting in all two hundred and twenty guns. There were also two old merchant ships to be used as fire-vessels. On the 29th they entered the Callao roads. The next day Lord Cochrane sent in a boat with a flag of truce, and challenged the Viceroy to come out for a fair fight. The challenge was rejected, although the Spanish fleet was nearly twice as strong as that of Chili.

On the night of the 2nd an attack was made, but failed, owing to the rockets, from which much had been hoped, turning out useless. They had been manufactured in Chili by Spanish prisoners, and had been so badly constructed that they inflicted far more damage upon the men who fired them than upon those against whom they were aimed. On the 5th a fire-ship was despatched with the intention of destroying the booms that protected the harbour; but a sudden calm came on, and the ship was riddled with shot from the Spanish guns and was fast sinking when she was exploded, but was too far distant from the booms to injure either them or the shipping. Finding himself thus unable to get at the enemy, Lord Cochrane was obliged to abandon for a time his project of taking Callao.

The fresh supply of provisions promised from Chili had not arrived, and sickness broke out on board the fleet. The admiral continued to watch the port for some weeks, despatching an expedition which captured the town of Pisco, and obtaining the much-needed provisions. On the 21st of November the sick were sent off to Valparaiso in charge of the San Martin, the Independencia, and the Araucano, while with the remainder of the fleet Lord Cochrane sailed to the mouth of the river Guayaquil, where he captured two large Spanish vessels, mounting together thirty-six guns and laden with timber. After a delay of a fortnight, occasioned by a mutiny attempted by Captains Guise and Spry, he sent one of his ships with the prizes to Valparaiso, left two others to watch the Peruvian coast, and started alone in his flag-ship with the intention of undertaking the capture of Valdivia; for at that time the southern portion of what is now Chili remained in the hands of the Spaniards.

Valdivia was a very strongly fortified place, and was regarded as impregnable by the Spaniards; and it was from this port that they directed their attacks upon Chili from the south, just as they did on the north from Callao. To reach it he therefore had to sail south from the Guayaquil along the coast of Peru and then past that of Chili. On approaching the fortress he hoisted Spanish colours and made a signal for a pilot. The Spaniards, having no idea that there was a Chilian war-ship on that coast, at once sent one off, together with an officer and four men. These were promptly made prisoners. The pilot was ordered to take the ship through the channels leading to the port, and much information was obtained from the other prisoners as to the fortifications of the place. As they sailed up the channel, the idea that the stranger was an enemy occurred to the commander of the fortress, and the non-return of the boat with the officer confirming this suspicion, a heavy fire was opened upon the O'Higgins; she did not reply, but continued her work of investigating the channel, and then withdrew out of range.

Two days were spent in further reconnaisances of the approaches, and on the third day a brig was captured entering the port. She carried some important despatches, and twenty thousand dollars for the payment of the troops. Having ascertained the nature of the difficulties to be encountered, Lord Cochrane sailed away to Concepcion, two hundred miles distant, and obtained from the Chilian governor a force of two hundred and fifty soldiers under Major Beauchef, a French officer in their service. He there found a Chilian schooner, which he attached to his service, and a Brazilian brig, which volunteered its aid; with them he sailed for Valdivia. On the night of the 29th they were off the island of Quiriquina. Owing to the incompetence of his officers the admiral had been obliged to personally superintend everything that was done on board, and when the ship was becalmed lay down for a few minutes' sleep, leaving orders that he was to be called at once if a breeze sprung up. A breeze did spring up; the officer of the watch was asleep, and a sudden gust carried the vessel on to a sharp rock, where she hung beating heavily.

They were then forty miles from the mainland, and the brig and schooner were both out of sight. For a short time a panic took place among the crew, and officers and men made for the boats. The admiral, followed by Stephen, rushed on deck, pistol in hand, and the former soon succeeded in calming the panic, his authority among the men being unbounded. He pointed out that the boats would carry but a hundred and fifty men, and that there were six hundred on board, so that were a rush to take place to the boats, they would assuredly be overcrowded and perhaps sink, while, should any gain the shore, the occupants would be made prisoners, and would certainly be put to death by the Spaniards. Their only hope, therefore, was to get the ship off.

On sounding the well it was found that there were five feet of water in the hold. The pumps were out of order, the carpenter utterly inefficient, and Lord Cochrane, taking off his coat, himself set to work to repair them, ordering Stephen to keep the men at work baling with buckets; the captain being under arrest for disobedience to orders, and the one other lieutenant absolutely incompetent. When the pumps were got to work it was found that they and the buckets sufficed to prevent the water from rising, and preparations were at once made to get the vessel off the rock. There was danger that when this was done she might sink, but Lord Cochrane pointed out that the leak was not likely to increase, and declared he had no doubt that she would swim as far as Valdivia. The anchors were got out astern, the crew set to heave on them, and it was not long before she floated off. But it was found that the water had entered the magazine, and that the whole of the ammunition, except a little on deck and in the cartridge-boxes of the soldiers, was rendered unserviceable.

This accident would, with a less determined commander, have put an end to their enterprise; but Lord Cochrane relied, not upon the ship's guns but upon the men, and considered that as these could not fire they would be obliged to trust to their bayonets, and that the chances of success would not therefore be diminished. In the morning they were joined by the schooner and brig, and on approaching Valdivia as many men as possible were transferred to the two small vessels. The admiral went on board the schooner, and ordered the O'Higgins to stand out to sea, as he intended she should be used only in case of necessity. The channel leading up to the town was three-quarters of a mile in width, and was commanded by six large forts on the western shore, two on the eastern, and a very large fort on an island, with six minor forts well situated for defence. The position was all but impregnable, and, indeed, the surf was so heavy that it was impossible for a landing to be effected save at a spot close to Fort Ingles.

Having made all his preparations, Lord Cochrane sailed on to the port, and boldly entered the channel. The troops were all sent below, while the two little vessels entered, and anchored boldly off Fort Ingles. The swell was so heavy that even the landing-place was unapproachable. The boats had been towed on the lee side of the ships, and when shouted to to send a boat ashore an answer was given that these had been lost in a storm. The Spaniards, however, were not satisfied, and alarm-guns were fired and troops brought up from the other forts. No hostile steps were taken, however, until, some time later, one of the boats drifted astern. The Spaniards had no longer any doubt as to the nature of the two vessels, and Fort Ingles at once opened fire upon them, the first shot passing through the brig and killing two men. It became necessary, therefore, to land at once, in spite of the surf. They had but two launches and a gig altogether; Lord Cochrane took charge of the gig, while Major Miller, who commanded the marines of the O'Higgins, embarked on board one of the launches.

They got safely through the swell, and in spite of a heavy fire from the Spanish troops effected a landing. They at once rushed upon the Spaniards, who came down from the forts to oppose them, and drove them back at the point of the bayonet. The second boat quickly arrived from the brig, both returning to the ships, and in less than an hour three hundred men had landed. From the spot where they had obtained a footing, the only approach to Fort Ingles was by a precipitous path which could only be passed in single file. The fort itself was only accessible by a ladder that had been drawn up, as soon as the party driven back from the landing place had returned. An attack seemed well-nigh hopeless; but the Chilians' confidence in their leader was unbounded, and none doubted but that success would attend their efforts. It was already late in the afternoon when they landed, and while waiting for darkness to cover the operations, they were sheltered by the nature of the ground from the fire of the large body of troops which had assembled in the fort.



CHAPTER XIV.

A PRISONER.

As soon as it was dark the admiral prepared for the attack. From the prisoners he had learned all details as to the fort, and found that while almost impregnable from the river face, the flank of the fort was defended chiefly by a strong palisading. He detached a small party of marines, under Ensign Vidal, to endeavour to enter at that point. Another party then silently moved forward to the direct attack of the fort, and as soon as it had taken up its position under the wall, the main body advanced, cheering and firing. The enemy at once opened a heavy fire of artillery and musketry, but in the dark they were unable to take aim, and but little damage was caused by their fire. The movement had the result intended—of occupying the whole attention of the eight hundred men in the fort, and of drowning any noise that might be made by those tearing down the palisades.

With great exertions Ensign Vidal succeeded in getting up a couple of the beams; he and his men passed through the opening, used the beams as a bridge across a wet ditch inside the palisade, and then advanced noiselessly until near the Spaniards, into whom they fired a volley. The Spaniards were seized with a sudden panic at finding themselves thus unexpectedly taken in flank, and instantly took to flight. The moment the fire of the marines told the admiral that the flank attack had succeeded, he led the main body round to the rear of the fort. The Spaniards, as they poured out there, communicated their panic to a body of three hundred troops drawn up behind in reserve, and the whole fled toward the next fort, followed hotly by the Chilians, who bayoneted numbers of them, and pressed so closely on their heels that they entered the works, one after the other, with them, driving them from fort to fort, together with two hundred men who had been placed with a battery of guns on rising ground to sweep the rear of the forts.

The last of these, the castle of Coral, was stormed with scarcely any opposition, the enemy thinking only of escape. Numbers of them got away in boats to Valdivia, while the rest plunged into the forests behind the forts. Little over a hundred prisoners were taken, and a like number of men were killed, their panic having been too great for anything like resistance to be offered. On the Chilian side the loss was seven men killed and nine wounded. The fall of all the western forts practically entailed that of Valdivia, for while preparations were being made to attack the eastern forts, the O'Higgins appeared off the mouth of the river, and the Spaniards, seeing this reinforcement to their foes, at once abandoned the remaining forts and the town, and retreated into the interior. The booty taken by the Chilians included fifty tons of gunpowder and ten thousand cannon-shot. One hundred and seventy thousand musket cartridges, a large number of muskets, and one hundred and twenty-eight cannon also fell into the hands of the victors. A large ship with valuable stores, together with a quantity of plate taken by the Spaniards from Chilian churches, also were captured.

The value of the conquest was not, however, to be reckoned by the amount of spoil taken. Its effect on the struggle was enormous. It raised the spirits of the Chilians to the highest pitch, whilst it brought home to the mind of the Spanish government the hopelessness of continuing a struggle against an enemy so well led, and capable of carrying out the most desperate enterprises.

Although Lord Cochrane was received with unbounded enthusiasm by the population at large on his return to Valparaiso, his success had excited the jealousy of the minister of marine and other officials, and by them he was treated with the grossest ingratitude. They even proposed to bring him to court-martial for having exceeded his orders; and although the indignation the proposal excited compelled them to abandon this, it was but to resort to other measures hostile to him.

It was months before the fleet received their share of the prize-money of the capture of Valdivia, in spite of the admiral's earnest efforts on their behalf. His own share, which was sixty-seven thousand dollars, he never received at all. He failed altogether in his endeavour to obtain a fleet of sufficient force to attempt the capture of Callao, and for many months was kept in a state of inactivity. So irritating was the persecution to which he was subjected, that on the 14th of May he tendered his resignation.

The resignation was refused, but nothing was done. O'Higgins, who was an honest man, was practically powerless, as the entire government was in the hands of a senate of five members, which assumed dictatorial powers, and without whose approval nothing whatever could be done. It was determined, however, to raise an army for the liberation of Peru; and although Lord Cochrane had vainly asked the year before for a small land force to capture Callao, an army was now raised without difficulty by the dictators, and General San Martin was placed in command. This man had rendered good service to Chili when, in conjunction with O'Higgins, he had led the movement of independence; but his success had turned his head. He was vain and arrogant, and at the same time dilatory and vacillating. He, like the dictators, was jealous of the success and popularity of Lord Cochrane, and was bent upon thwarting him to the utmost. His army, four thousand two hundred strong, was embarked at Valparaiso in the ships of the squadron. Lord Cochrane proposed to him to land at Chilka, the nearest point to Lima and Callao. San Martin, however, chose Pisca, and the troops were landed there on the 18th of September. For fifty days they remained there doing nothing, the fleet being compelled to remain inactive off the port.

On the 28th of October they were re-embarked. San Martin again refused to listen to Lord Cochrane's proposal for a vigorous attack upon Callao and Lima, and requested to be landed at Ancon, a port as unsuitable for the purpose as was Pisca. Lord Cochrane, however, determined that the fleet, furnished at such expense and effort by Chili, should not be wholly wasted, and when he sent his ships in to anchor off the port, he retained the O'Higgins, the Independencia, and the Lautaro, with the professed intention of blockading Callao at a distance. His real intention was, however, to cut out the Esmeralda from under the guns of the forts, and also to carry off another ship, on board which, as he had learned, a million dollars were embarked. The Esmeralda was a forty-four gun frigate, and was considered the finest Spanish war-ship in the Pacific. She lay under the protection of three hundred guns on shore, and a strong boom moored by chains at short intervals; while near her lay twenty-seven gun-boats and several vessels that had been armed for the defence of the port. Only two or three of his officers knew of his intentions until a few hours before his intended attack, when he issued a proclamation to the seamen and marines, telling them that they had now an opportunity for dealing the enemy a mortal blow, and repeating the triumph of Valdivia.

Volunteers were asked for, and the whole of the sailors and marines from the three ships offered to follow Lord Cochrane wherever he might lead them. This was a much larger force than he required, and one hundred and eighty sailors and eighty marines were chosen for the work. This force was gradually transferred to the flag-ship, and the other two vessels sailed out of the bay just before darkness came on, as if in chase of some ship they had sighted—a ruse well calculated to lull the Spaniards into security. The men intended for the service then took their places in fourteen boats that lay hidden behind the flag-ship. All were dressed in white, with a blue band on the left arm, in order that they might distinguish each other in the dark. At ten o'clock the boats pushed off in two directions, commanded respectively by Captain Crosby and Captain Guise, while the admiral led the way in his launch. It was just twelve o'clock when the boats arrived at a small opening in the boom. The oars had been muffled, and so perfectly had silence been observed, that the admiral's launch ran against a guard-boat lying at the entrance, without its approach having been observed by the Spaniards. There was a hasty challenge by the startled officer in command, to which the admiral himself replied by threatening the occupants of the boat with instant death if they gave the slightest alarm.

The threat, and the appearance of the boats dashing in through the opening, had its effect. No word was spoken by the Spaniards, and in a few minutes the flotilla of vessels, rowed down in line upon the frigate, and boarded her at a dozen points simultaneously. The Chilians had been ordered not to use their pistols, but to rely wholly on their cutlasses. The sentries on the frigate shouted the alarm, and the Spaniards, snatching up their arms, rushed up from below. Many were cut down at once by the Chilians, the rest retreated to the forecastle and made a gallant stand, and it was not until the Chilians had made three charges upon them that they gave way, some leaping overboard, and others running below. The Spanish marines gathered on the quarter-deck, and they too fought with great bravery. Not one among them asked for quarter or sought safety in flight, but continued the struggle until the last man fell.

The admiral himself had been very unfortunate. He had swung himself up into the main-chains the moment his boat touched the frigate, and was about to leap upon the deck of the Esmeralda when he was struck on the head by a Spanish sentry with his clubbed musket and fell back into the boat. He fell upon one of the rowlocks, which entered his back near the spine, inflicting a very severe injury, from whose effects he suffered for several years after. In spite of the agony caused by the wound he again clambered up on to the deck, and was almost immediately shot through the thigh. He bound a handkerchief tightly round it, and managed to direct the operations until the capture was complete. The affair occupied but a quarter of an hour, the Chilian loss being eleven killed and thirty wounded, while a hundred and sixty of the Spaniards fell. While this was going on, the garrison of the forts, awakened by the uproar, ran to their guns and opened fire on the Esmeralda, several of the Spaniards, among them their captain, and two or three of the Chilians, being killed or wounded by their shot.

It happened that in the harbour at the time were two neutral frigates—one British, the other an American. It had been arranged between them and the Spanish authorities that in the event of a night attack they were to show lights in a particular position, so that they might not be fired upon. This they did, but by the admiral's orders similar lights were at once hoisted on board the Esmeralda, thus causing much confusion among the Spaniards. Both the neutral frigates were hit several times, while but few shots struck the Esmeralda. Lord Cochrane was now forced by his wounds to leave it to Captain Guise, the next senior officer, to carry out the orders that he had previously given, namely, that the brig with the bullion on board was first to be captured, then that every ship was to be attacked and cut adrift. The success of these operations was certain, as the Spaniards, directly they saw the Esmeralda captured, had taken to their boats and made for shore, and the whole of the Spanish vessels might have been either burnt or captured. Captain Guise had all along thwarted the admiral's plans to the utmost of his power, had fomented several mutinies, and should have been tried and shot long before. He now, instead of carrying out the orders, cut the Esmeralda's cables, hoisted her sails, and steered through the opening in the boom.

Although marred by the treachery, or at any rate gross misconduct of Cochrane's subordinates, the capture of the Esmeralda exercised almost as great an influence on the fortunes of the struggle as did that of Valdivia. It was a death-blow to the Spanish naval force in the Pacific; for although they had still two frigates and some smaller craft in those waters, they never afterwards ventured to put to sea, of which the Chilians now became absolute masters. The action, in fact, ensured the success of the Chilian effort to free Peru.

San Martin now requested Lord Cochrane to re-embark the army once more, and carry it to Huacha. This was done, and there San Martin remained without doing any more than he had done at the two other ports. After having landed him the fleet returned to Callao, where they used every effort to tempt the Spanish war-ships to venture out, but without success. The effect, however, of these operations showed itself in other ways. On the 3rd of December six hundred and fifty Peruvian soldiers deserted from the Spanish service, and two days later forty officers followed them, and from that time defections took place almost daily.

San Martin now made no secret of his intention to assume the dictatorship of Peru. He had for so many months kept his army inactive, in order that he might in time be able to enforce his authority. What he would not do, however, was accomplished by Lord Cochrane. Weary of the long delay he offered in the following March to capture Lima if two thousand soldiers were assigned to him. This offer was refused, but after some time he obtained a force of six hundred. With these he effected a landing at port after port along the coast, and so harassed the Spaniards that, on the 6th of July, Lima capitulated and Peru was free. San Martin at once proclaimed himself protector of Peru, and appointed two of his creatures as chief ministers. Lord Cochrane in vain attempted to obtain from him payment for the sailors of the fleet, who had been very many months without receiving a penny.

San Martin insolently replied that he would pay nothing whatever to Chili, but that he would make Lord Cochrane a Peruvian admiral if he would leave the service of Chili for that of Peru. Lord Cochrane knew that Chili would decline to pay for work that had been done to make Peru, like itself, free and independent, since it was now as prostrate at the feet of San Martin as it had been at those of the Spaniards. The army it had raised had betrayed it and taken service under San Martin, as had the two mutinous scoundrels, Captains Guise and Spry. Lord Cochrane, therefore, determined to take by force the money due to the fleet. At Ancon there was a large amount of treasure seized from the Spaniards. It had been deposited by San Martin there, and in the middle of September the admiral landed, and took possession of it without opposition. Of the two hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars found there, he paid a year's arrears to every officer and man in the fleet, taking nothing, however, for himself, and reserving the small surplus for the pressing wants and equipments of the fleet.

In June, 1822, Lord Cochrane returned to Valparaiso, from which he had been absent twenty months. He was received with a popular ovation; but his enemies were still at work, and struck at him in the matter upon which he was most sensitive, by refusing any payment whatever to his officers and men, many of whom almost died of starvation.

In October a revolution broke out in Chili, and such indignities were heaped upon the admiral himself that upon the 12th of the month he formally resigned his commission, and in January, 1823, quitted Valparaiso in a vessel chartered by himself, taking with him several European officers and gentlemen, who, like himself, were tired of Chilian ingratitude, and were ready to follow him in whatever service he engaged.

Stephen had taken no part in the later operations of the fleet. After the capture of the Esmeralda he had been knocked down and very severely injured by a splinter, caused by a shot from the Spanish batteries passing through the bulwark close to where he was standing. Lord Cochrane had sent him, with other wounded, in one of the small war-ships down to Valparaiso, and there he was tenderly nursed by Lady Cochrane. It was three months before he fairly recovered his strength, and as soon as he was convalescent he took a berth in a craft that was sailing with stores and provisions for the fleet. They had been out four days when she was caught in a storm on-shore. In vain they tried to beat out; the vessel was a poor sailer, and drifted to leeward faster than she could work to windward.