"You'd like to know how we took the Esmeralda, I daresay?" said Tom.

"I told Master Harry all about that the other day," observed Fleming. "It was a gallant thing, wasn't it?"

"But, I say, I wonder if the gentlemen over heard talk of what my lady did? She was, for a woman, and a young, beautiful woman too, just as brave as my lord. Well, I'll tell you. The first part I heard from a man, a soldier, a brave, faithful fellow, who was with her; the rest I saw myself. She, with her baby, was up the country, at a place called Quilca, among the mountains, when, as she was at a ball at some great man's house there, she heard that the Spaniards had made up their minds to seize her and her infant, and to detain them as hostages. To think with her was to act. Going quietly out of the ball-room and changing her dress, she popped the nurse and child into a sort of palanquin, and mounting one of her horses, and ordering out all the rest, she started away in the middle of the night, and pushed on without stopping anywhere, or telling any one where she was going. All that night and all next day she travelled on, mounting another horse whenever the one she rode grew tired. At last she arrived at a dark ravine, just a split in the mountain some hundred feet deep, with a foaming torrent roaring below. There was just the sort of rope bridge we had to cross yesterday. Some of the people had gone down below to haul the horses over, and she had sent her own horse across, when what should they hear but the sound of the enemy's bugles. Seizing her child, she ordered the palanquin-bearers to go over, and then followed close behind them herself. Again the bugle sounded,—the enemy were close at hand. She hurried on, but the movements of so many people crossing made the bridge swing fearfully from side to side. She felt as if she must be thrown off into the raging gulf below. More and more the bridge swung, and at length, overcome with terror, she sank down on the narrow pathway, clasping the infant to her breast. I've heard people say they dream of such things. Here was the reality. The bridge continued to swing backwards and forwards with a fearful motion, and she clung to it for her life. It was a great risk for any one else to venture on the bridge, but, in spite of that, Pedro, the soldier I told you of, crawled along, and, says he in his own language, 'Give me the child, my lady, and I'll take care of it;' and crawling along with it in his arms, he placed it in safety. Then he went back, and helped Lady Cochrane across. Just then the advance guard of the enemy's troops appeared, winding down the sides of the mountains. Pedro and the other men hacked away at the bridge; the ropes parted and fell into the torrent, and her ladyship was safe, while the Spaniards ground their teeth in vain. On she pushed, till she reached the coast, and there she found the admiral's ship, and came on board. We were all proud to have her; for you see, with all her beauty, there wasn't a bit of vanity or nonsense about her, and she would speak kind-like to any one of us, just as if we was her equal. Soon after she came on board, the admiral heard that there was a rich Spanish ship just about putting to sea, and a very good sailer. He knew if she once got ahead of us we should never catch her up, so, without waiting to land Lady Cochrane, we slipped our cables and made sail up to where the treasure-ship and several others of the enemy's vessels lay at anchor. We beat to quarters, and got up to them about midnight all ready for action. We were not long in beginning the sport, nor they in returning the compliments we paid them; for, besides the treasure-ship, the Spaniards had some gun-boats moored under their forts. While we were firing away, the mother, just like her little son, wouldn't leave the deck, but stood there like any hero, animating the men.

"After some time one of the crew of a gun, a Chilian, seemed to be afraid of firing. What does her ladyship do, but, seizing his arm, and guiding the match to the touch-hole, fire the gun! She thought maybe that the man would be punished if he was observed. However, the effort was too much for her, for you see she was but a young woman, and she sank down on deck in a fainting fit. We thought she was wounded, and several of us ran forward to lift her up and carry her below. It did our hearts good to find that there was nothing really the matter with her. When the action was over, and we had pretty well knocked the treasure-ship and gun-boats to pieces, we returned in the morning to our former anchorage. As we were furling sails, her ladyship came on deck to show us she was all to rights. No sooner was the canvas stowed, than we manned yards of our own accord, and then didn't we cheer her and the admiral with right good will; and the whole crew, one and all, Chilians and Englishmen, five hundred of us, burst forth with the hymn of the Republic, praying at the end that Heaven would bless and prosper them. She bowed more than once, but didn't say a word, and then burst into tears.

"Ah! she was the lady who knew how to win a sailor's heart!"



CHAPTER NINE.

ROBINSON CRUSOE'S ISLAND.

Fleming and his old shipmate, Tom Carver, kept spinning their interesting yarns about Lord Cochrane's gallant deeds till a late hour. At last it was time to go to sleep; so we wrapped ourselves up as closely as we could in our cloaks, with our feet to the fire and our backs to the rock, to seek repose. Fleming, and Tom, and the doctor, however, kept watch one after the other, both to keep up the fire and to prevent our being taken by surprise by the visit of a puma, or any other unwelcome visitor. By-the-by, the doctor told us that the puma very seldom seeks his prey in the day-time, or attacks men, though he has been known to do so at times. The fellow we killed measured fully five feet from the nose to the tail, which was itself, in addition, two feet and a half long. The back was of a brownish-red colour, and the breast of a reddish ash colour, and the lower jaw and throat white. Its face was like that of a huge cat, and it is said to be able to climb trees, and to drop down from them on its prey. Its ordinary way of seizing its prey is to spring on the back, and draw back the head of the animal till its neck is broken. The guanaco, which is common throughout South America, was used by the ancient Peruvians, in great numbers, as a beast of burden. It carried about a hundredweight. Its flesh also served them for food; of its skin leather articles were made, and its hair was woven into cloth. When domesticated, it is known as the llama. It feeds on vegetables, and requires no attention. Its voice resembles the shrill neighing of a horse. Its use as a beast of burden has been superseded by the horse, the ass, and the mule. The fleece of the tame animal is not so long as that of the wild one. Their appearance I have already described. I shall never forget that night among the Andes,— how the stars of the southern hemisphere came out, and shone with a brilliancy I had never before seen in that purest of pure atmospheres, among those grand old mountains. For a long time I could not go to sleep: at last I did, and it seemed but a moment afterwards that Terry aroused me to go with Tom and the Indian guide to bring the guanaco and the skin of the puma. With their aid we were not long in finding the puma, and in having his skin off him. We found the first guanaco untouched, so we took his skin and some of the flesh. As, however, we were looking for the spot where we had left the other, a huge condor rose into the air, followed by two or three others.

"Ah! you'll not find much beyond his bones, depend on that," said Tom. "These birds don't leave pickings for anybody else."

Such being the case, we agreed that it was not worth while to climb up so far, as we were in a hurry to get back to the rock to breakfast. Directly after it we set off on our return to the city. The natives of Chili, we were told, often catch the puma with the lasso. They also hunt it with dogs, and shoot it when it climbs up trees. When we came to the bridge of hide-rope it looked more rickety and impassable than ever. Just fancy a few rotten-looking strips of leather slung across a chasm some thousand feet deep!

"Never mind," said Fleming, laughing; "hold on to something. If it give way don't you let go, at all events, and the chances are you are brought up somewhere. My maxim is, Never let go of one rope till you have got hold of another."

However, we crossed in safety, and spent a very pleasant day at Santiago, seeing all the sights of that city, though Jerry and I agreed that we would rather have been in the mountains shooting guanacoes or hunting pumas,—so I daresay would old Surley. We got back in good time to Valparaiso. When dining at the hotel, we met an Englishman who had travelled over all parts of South America, and had made an infinite number of sketches, which he did in the most rapid way. He made me a present of several, which he drew at the hotel; among them was the Frontispiece to this volume. He gave us the following information at the same time. He told us that apes' flesh was very nice for eating—a fact some of our party were inclined to doubt. He laughed at our scruples, and assured us that he had frequently dined off apes. The Indians on the Amazon go out regularly to hunt them, and have a very successful mode of so doing. Every hunter is provided with a hollow cane, called a sarbacan—I before described it in our trip up the Amazon. It is about twelve feet in length; and a quiver containing a dozen little pieces of very hard wood, sharp at one end, and fitted with a bit of cotton-wadding at the other. Concealed by the luxuriant foliage of the forest, the Indian, resting his sarbacan on the branch of a tree, waits the near approach of his prey; then blowing out one of the little polished arrows from the tube with his mouth, he invariably strikes the ape, and brings him to the ground. What ensures the success of this mode of hunting is, that it is carried on without the slightest noise, and a whole troop of apes may be killed without their discovering whence the death-dealing darts proceed. When we were on the Amazon we did not know that the poor monkeys were killed in this way. I forgot to mention before the beautiful regularity of the land and sea-breezes which we experienced at this place. It was the dry season of the year, and the air was wonderfully bright and clear. The atmosphere being in a state of equilibrium (so the doctor told us), was ready to obey even the slightest impulse, and to rush towards any spot where rarefaction was taking place. Thus, at about ten in the morning, as the rays of the sun gain power and shed their influence over the earth, the air from the sea begins to move towards it. As rarefaction increases, so does the strength of the wind, till by three or four in the afternoon it rushes in with great force, creating a considerable sea, and if a vessel is not well moored, driving her before it. Captain Frankland knew what to expect, and was therefore prepared for the emergency.

On the afternoon of our return to Valparaiso, we put to sea. From the cause I have mentioned respecting the strength of the sea-breeze, it is necessary to make a good offing from the land. We therefore stood off shore till we had sunk the tops of the Andes below the horizon. The name of the Pacific was given to this ocean by the Spaniards, who first crossed the Isthmus of Panama, under the belief that the whole sea was always as calm as was then the portion they beheld. Storms, if less frequent, are certainly not less violent than in other portions of the world. We certainly very frequently experienced the fickleness of the elements. As we were about to haul up to the northward, the wind suddenly shifted round to that very quarter, and then shifted somewhat to the eastward. We stood away on the starboard-tack, but were evidently making a great deal of lee-way. At last Captain Frankland, finding that no progress could be made, hove the ship to. Jerry and I had by this time got pretty well accustomed to knocking about, so that we did not mind it. We suffered the greatest inconvenience at our meals, because very often the soup which we had intended to put into our mouths without signal or warning rolled away into the waistcoat-pockets of our opposite neighbour. The doctor more than once suffered from being the recipient of the contents of Jerry's plate as well as of mine; but he took it very good-naturedly, and as he very soon returned us the compliment, we were all square. Not long after dinner, while we were on deck, Ben Yool, who was aloft, hailed to say that he saw bearing right down for us a large brig, and, considering the gale, that she was carrying a wonderful press of canvas. Her courses were brailed up, but her topsails were set, while the top-gallant-sails and royals were flying away in ribbons, except the main-royal, which, with the mast, had gone over the side. We accordingly all looked out for her. We soon, as we rose to the summit of a long rolling sea, caught sight of her, plunging over the foaming waters and often half buried in them. There was something very strange in her appearance, and in the way she came tearing along through the waters. Captain Frankland looked at her attentively through his glass.

"I cannot make it out," he exclaimed; "the people on board are either all drunk or must have gone mad."

We were not kept long in suspense. On came the brig. She was a fine-looking vessel; but such a sight met our eyes as I never expected to see. Her deck was crowded with men, but instead of attempting to shorten sail, they were all shrieking and fighting together. One party seemed to have taken possession of the after-part of the vessel, the rest were forward—while in the intermediate space several lay weltering in their blood. Now one party would rush forward and meet the other in the waist, and then after a desperate struggle one would retreat before the other. Thus they continued as long as they remained in sight. It appeared, from the glimpse we got of them as they drove by, that the crew had risen against their officers, who were fighting to regain the upper hand. What they were it was difficult to say, but their appearance bespoke them to be a great set of ruffians. I asked Ben Yool what he thought of them.

"To my mind, Master Harry, they are nothing better than a set of pirates, and I had just as soon not have fallen in with them in smooth water."

Every spy-glass on board was directed towards them. Strange as it appeared, there could be no doubt about the matter. In spite of the terrific gale—in spite of the prospect of the masts going overboard, and of the ship being reduced to a complete wreck, an event which might any moment occur, the wretched crew of the brig were destroying each other with the maddest fury. From the state of things on board as we saw them, the chances were that the survivors of the victorious party would not have strength to take in sail or clear the deck at the end of the fight.

"That was an extraordinary spectacle we have just witnessed," observed Cousin Silas, as Jerry and I were holding on to the rails near him as the strange brig disappeared, hidden by the dark foam-topped waves which leaped up between her and us. "Never heard anything like it before, perhaps you will say, lads. Now, in my opinion, you have heard of many things exactly like it before. What is the world doing at the present moment? What has it been doing since the flood? Men have been quarrelling, and fighting, and knocking each other on the head, while ruin has been encircling them around, from that time to the present. We were sent into this world to perform certain duties—to help each other in doing them—to love God and to love each other. If we obey God, we are promised eternal happiness: if we disobey him, eternal punishment. We are told that this world must come to an end, and that all things in it will be destroyed. What do men do? They shut their eyes to all these truths. They live as if they and everything in the world were to last for ever—as if there were no God to obey and love; and, like the madmen we have just seen, they separate into parties, hating each other, and fight, and quarrel, and deface God's image in which he made man, utterly regardless of the terrible doom awaiting them—just as the people aboard that ship were doing."

"The simile would not have occurred to me, Mr Brand," observed Jerry. "I see it now, though. Still, if people do as little harm as they can, it is all right."

"No, no, lad. Don't for a moment indulge in such an erroneous, foolish notion, put into people's heads by the spirit of evil himself, to deceive them. I tell you we were sent into the world not only to abstain from sin, but to do as much good as we can—to actively employ ourselves—to look about us to see how we can do good,—not to wait till some opportunity occurs that may never come. But we are certain to find some good work if we look for it; and if your heart is right towards God, and you earnestly wish to serve him, and not the world, and not yourself, he will point out to you what to do."

The conversation was interrupted by a heavy lurch the ship made, which sent Jerry and me tumbling away into the lee scuppers; a huge sea at the same moment came rolling up with a foaming crest towards us. It caught the brig broad on the bow—up it rose like a wall, and then with a loud angry roar fell right over us. I felt myself swimming in deep water, with my mouth full and almost blinded. I heard Jerry's cry close to me. The dreadful thought occurred to me that we were both overboard, and the utter impossibility of lowering a boat to save us flashed across me. I shrieked out for help. A whirl—a confused sound of roaring, hissing waters—a sensation of battling and struggling with them—an eager desire to clutch at something,—are all I remember. Down came the gale on the ship with greater fury than before—another sea from the opposite quarter struck her. I felt myself grasped by a strong arm, and when I opened my eyes, I saw that I was being dragged up to windward by Cousin Silas, who, at the imminent risk of losing his own life, had sprung out with a rope in his hand and hauled me on board again.

"Oh, where is Jerry—where is Jerry?" were the first words I uttered. No one answered. "Oh, he is lost! he is lost!" I cried, and burst into tears, forgetting altogether to thank Cousin Silas for having saved me. I felt that I could never survive the loss of my young shipmate. Just then I saw several of the crew running to leeward. Two or three heads were in the water, with arms wildly striking out. Shrieks, too, rung in my ears. Ben Yool was among them; I saw his face clearly; he did not seem alarmed, like the rest. A long rope was hove to him. He grasped it. He struck out towards another of the swimmers; it was Jerry. Ben seized him in one of his arms, while he was striking out with the other. There seemed, however, but little chance for him of escaping with his life; for when the ship again surged ahead, the rope would have been torn from his grasp, but just then another cross sea providentially rolled up to leeward, and sent him and Jerry close up to the bulwarks. There they were grasped by the crew, and when the ship rolled over again to the other side, they were hauled on board safe and sound. Two other men remained in the water. They turned their faces with straining eyeballs imploringly towards the ship, which was drifting from them. In vain they shrieked out; no one could help them. A foaming, hissing sea rose between us and them. Far, far away the unhappy men were carried, and when the ship rose again to the summit of a wave, they were nowhere to be seen. I felt then how mercifully I had been preserved, and grateful to Him who had thought fit to save me, while, for his own inscrutable ends, he had allowed others to be taken. Jerry, I know, had the same thoughts and feelings, though I fear their impression soon faded, but not away altogether. Its traces, however faint, were permanently left on our minds, and I believe that they have often since had a powerful influence on us. I hope, also, as we grow older, that we may often recur to them instead of endeavouring to drive them away. Joyful as Captain Frankland was at recovering his son, he felt much the loss of his two men; for he truly was the father of his crew, and they knew and gladly acknowledged it. This was the secret of the influence he had over them. The ship still lay to, but the gale increased. Suddenly there was a loud report, like a clap of thunder. The fore-top-sail, close-reefed as it was, had blown out of the bolt-ropes, and the shreds fluttered in streamers from the yards. Away it flew, lashing the yard with fury, and coiling itself into thick twists of rope. The wind unfortunately caught the bow, and bringing her right round, exposed her broadside to the sea. The instant the accident happened, the mates, with some of the crew, had rushed forward, and loosing the fore-stay-sail, were hoisting it just as a big sea came roaring towards us. It was half way up at the moment the sea reached us. "Hoist away, my lads!" was the general cry. The ship felt its effects; springing forward, she seemed to dash through the sea, which, however, broke in a deluge over us. Her head came round, and away she flew before the storm. Before, however, the fore-stay-sail was up it was blown clean away, and the ship dashed on under bare poles to the westward, leaving our two poor shipmates in their watery tomb far astern. All that night we ran plunging on. In the morning watch the wind began to fall. I asked Yool, who was in the same watch with me, what he thought was going to happen.

"Why, Master Harry, that the gale is tired of blowing, and that we shall before long have a calm, or only just a light, pleasant breeze," he answered. So it proved; after this the wind rapidly decreased, and by sunrise all hands were aloft bending new sails, and busily employed in repairing the damages received in the gale. Just as the captain came on deck, one of the mates hailed from aloft that he saw a whale, or a rock, or some large black object, just rising out of the water—he could not make out what.

We had been on the point of hauling our wind to stand back for Callao, but the captain ordered the ship to be kept on, to ascertain what the object could be. I with others had gone aloft to look out also, when, as the sun arose, I saw before me what I at first took to be a cloud, but gradually it grew more and more distinct, till I was certain that it was a lofty mountain. The rest of the crew were so busily employed about the rigging, and in looking out for the whale or whatever it was, that I was the first to see it;—of this I was very proud.

"Land ahead!" I sung out.

"Ay, ay; all right, Harry," he answered, knowing of course what land it must be. I soon after went down on deck, where I met Jerry, looking rather pale and ill after his bath.

"Do you know what that land is?" I asked, pointing to it; for with the increasing light it was now seen clearly from the deck.

"Why, it's no other than Robinson Crusoe's island—Juan Fernandes; and my father says he intends to run in there, as it will be more convenient to repair damages at anchor; and he thinks that very likely the gale may come back again on us. Won't it be jolly to go on shore and to see the very cave he lived in, and the sand where he first saw Friday's foot-mark, and the descendants of the goats he had, and various other animals? I am certain I could find out every spot of ground he talks about. There's no place I would rather see than this."

"So would I," I observed. "But you forget, Jerry, there was no such person as Robinson Crusoe. We may be disappointed when we get there."

"I won't believe it!" he answered, indignantly. "There was, and there must have been, and there shall have been a Robinson Crusoe! How could he have written his life if he had not lived, I should like to know?"

"There was a man called Alexander Selkirk, who was left there from one of Lord Anson's ships, and a first-rate writer—Daniel Defoe by name— got hold of his account, on which he founded the story of Robinson Crusoe," I answered.

"I tell you that is all bosh," said Jerry. "I don't believe that any man who had not gone through every scene he describes, could have given as good an account of them as does Robinson Crusoe; so I intend to stick to my belief, and not care what anybody else says on the subject." I must own that I felt very much inclined to agree with Jerry, and to look on Defoe very much in the light of a pirate, who had got hold of a ship which did not belong to him. The important discussion was cut short by the report of the first mate, who had again gone aloft with his glass to take another look at the object seen ahead.

"As far as I can see, I've no doubt that it is the hull of a ship floating bottom uppermost," he sung out; "but whether any one is still clinging to her or not, is more than I can make out."

"Get one of the boats ready, Mr Brand; we'll board the wreck, at all events," said the captain. While the boat was quickly prepared, we made good progress towards the wreck.

"There is a man on her; I can see him clearly," sung out the third mate from forward. "He is lying along the keel. He is alive; he sees us; he is waving to us."

As soon as the ship got up to the wreck, she was hove-to, and I followed Mr Brand, with Ben Yool, into the boat. There was still a great deal of sea running; and when we got up to the wreck, there was no little danger, we discovered, in getting alongside her. There were masts and spars still hanging on by the rigging around her, which would at once have stove in our boat if we had got among them incautiously, and we should very likely have lost our own lives. There was only one man on the ship's bottom; we saw him just lifting his head and watching us anxiously as we pulled round. We could discover no spot free from danger; so we pulled off again to consult what was best to be done. The poor wretch thought we were going to desert him, and shouted out to us in English and Spanish, imploring us to have compassion on him, and save his life.

"Ay, ay, friend!" answered Ben Yool. "Don't suppose we'd leave you there; we should be rum sort of Christians to do that. Wait a bit; we'll get you off directly."

"He appears to be unable to help himself, or he might lower himself down by a rope," observed Mr Brand. "Make a line fast round me; I think that I could manage to got in just under the quarter, and so haul myself up by some of the ropes I see hanging over it."

To propose was with Cousin Silas to act, and in another moment he was striking out towards the wreck. Avoiding the main-mast—close to which, with some of its spars, he had to pass—he at length got hold of the quarter without injury. He was soon up alongside the stranger. The man was apparently unable to walk; so Mr Brand supported him as he helped him along the keel, till he reached the after-part; and then, securing a line to him, he beckoned us to pull in, while he lowered both himself and the man into the boat. We quickly pulled back again, before the shattered mast drove towards the hull. From the appearance of the wreck, she did not look as if she would have floated much longer. The stranger was a mulatto—a fine, tall fellow, apparently, but now looking very wretched and weak from loss of blood and want of food. We soon had him on board, dried and put into a clean hammock, under the doctor's care. His manner at first was rough, and somewhat sullen; but it improved by degrees, and he seemed grateful for the kindness shown to him. He was evidently suffering so much from pain that no one asked him for particulars about the wreck, or how he had been brought into his present position. It was not till the doctor came in to dinner that we began to suspect the truth.

"Do you know that that man has received a couple of desperate wounds with a long, sharp knife?" said he. "When I discovered this, it occurred to me that he must have been one of the crew of the vessel which passed us yesterday, and that she had met the fate which was to be expected."

"No doubt about it," answered Captain Frankland. "I have thought so from the first; but I did not wish to prejudice anybody against the man."

"He is not disinclined to be communicative; but whether he speaks the truth or not is another question," said the doctor. "He says that the vessel capsized was a Peruvian brig; that he and another man had a quarrel, in which he received two stabs; that soon after the brig was struck by a squall, and capsized; that one of the boats was uninjured, and that some dozen people escaped in her."

"I think the latter part of his account is very likely in some respects to be true," observed Captain Frankland. "If so, they are a class of gentry we must be on the watch for and keep clear of. They cannot be far-off, and they are not likely to stand on ceremony, if they want a ship, which is probable, about helping themselves to the first they fall in with likely to suit them."

Jerry and I agreed, however, that we should very much like to meet with the pirates and have a brush with them.

"They would find us better prepared than they expected," said he. "They do not know, besides our big guns, what a supply of arms we have on board."

Notwithstanding our strong suspicions of the character of the stranger, he was treated from the first with every possible kindness. All this time we were approaching Robinson Crusoe's island. We almost expected to see a man dressed in goat-skins, with a high conical cap, a gun in his hand, and a negro and goat moving behind him, waiting on the shore to welcome us. In my opinion, he would have found his dress of skins very hot in that climate, while his savage could have been only of a lightish-brown colour. As we drew in with the land, rocks, trees, and shrubs, clothing the sides of the lofty and picturesque mountains, grew more and more distinct; and then a few cottages peeped out here and there, and a fort guarding the only harbour, with the Chilian flag flying over it, showing us that it was no longer a deserted island; but, unfortunately, the inhabitants we found were not of a class to make it the abode of peace and contentment. The Chilian Government have turned it into a penal settlement, and the chief residents are the convicts and their guards. It is only to be hoped that the result of their labours may make it a fitter place for the habitation of more virtuous people. We ran into the harbour, which is nearly land-locked, and dropped our anchor. It was a curious feeling, coming suddenly from the storm-tossed ocean, to find ourselves surrounded by land, with lofty mountains rising up from the shore close to us. We all agreed that we were never in a more beautiful or picturesque spot. Even now the town is a very rough sort of a place. There might have been a hundred cottages, some neatly white-washed, but others made only of boughs and mud; and even the governor's house is only of one story. The fort was a mere stockade, and of little use as a defence. The governor was an Englishman, who belonged to the Chilian navy. Poor fellow! his was a very unpleasant and dull life; for, except a priest and the officer in command of the soldiers, he had no one with whom he could converse. While the crew were employed in setting up the rigging, Jerry and I and the doctor accompanied Captain Frankland on shore. We were received on landing by a very ragged set of soldiers, many of whom had not even shoes on their feet, and all, more or less, seem to have borrowed some of Robinson Crusoe's garments. Besides the governor's house, there was a chapel—a little, low building, with a cross on the top of it to show its object. The poor soldiers crowded round us, and asked if we had shoes to sell. Fortunately there were some cases on board, one of which the captain sent for; and the third mate, who acted as supercargo, disposed of the whole of them, though there was some difficulty in finding articles for barter when their cash ran short. Had not the governor helped them, they would have remained shoeless. We were delighted with the quantity of fruit which was brought to us. There were cherries, and very large strawberries, and melons, and grapes—all of which, we had no doubt, were planted originally by Robinson Crusoe. We lunched with the governor; and then, while the captain returned on board, Jerry and I and the doctor started with a guide to take a long walk into the country. Away we went, highly delighted, and soon found ourselves in a beautiful and fertile valley, with waterfalls coming down the sides of the hills, and bright streams and ponds. We came, too, upon a flock of goats; and one very old fellow had a nick in his ear, so we had no doubt that he was one of those left by Robinson Crusoe himself. The doctor would not give, an opinion on the subject, but Jerry asserted that there could not be a shadow of doubt about it. Going on a little further, we came upon a cave—a veritable cave—in the side of the mountain, with a sort of rough porch in front of it, built of boughs and thatched with straw. Jerry uttered a loud shout of delight.

"There!" he exclaimed. "I knew it was all true. Why, there is the very hut Robinson Crusoe built for himself."

His voice must have aroused some one who was within, for a door was pushed open, and a figure appeared, who, if he was not Robinson Crusoe, was very like pictures of him. He had a long beard, and was dressed in goat-skins, and had sandals on his feet, and a thick stick in his hand— altogether a very wild-looking character. Jerry drew back, and looked at him very much as if by some incantation he had conjured up the spirit of the long-departed hero.

"It can't be Crusoe!" he gasped out. "Yet, if it isn't, who can he be?" At length he gained courage, and both of us slowly approaching the man, he said, with a desperate effort, "Pray, tell me who you are?"

A grim smile lighted up such of the features of the man as could be seen through his bushy beard, whiskers, and moustaches. He shook his head. Jerry repeated the question.

"No intende," he answered.

"Then he can't be Robinson Crusoe if he doesn't understand English," whispered Jerry, with a sigh.

The doctor, who had been behind gathering plants, now came up. He laughed heartily when we told him that we had had great hopes that the rough-looking stranger might turn out to be Robinson Crusoe himself, gone back to live on his own island. He exchanged a few words with the stranger.

"The man tells me that he is a goat-herd—a convict—unjustly banished here;—that of course. He begs that we will give him a few coppers to buy a glass of rum."

Jerry and I eagerly searched in our pockets, when we discovered some Chilian coins, which we bestowed on the poor goat-herd; but even as I dropped them into his hand, I could not help feeling that I was offering an insult to a great man in distress by giving him such a trifle. The provoking part of the affair was, that, as the doctor told us, the man himself had never even heard of Robinson Crusoe in the whole course of his life. We had a delightful ramble through the valley, and over the hills. We found an abundance of the sandalwood-tree growing on the mountains, and myrtles in great quantities, with a variety of other aromatic shrubs. Vegetables of all sorts were growing in profusion, and there were a number of cattle, and horses, and mules. There was also plenty of milk; and from what we saw at the governor's table, there was no lack of provisions of any sort.

Old Surley was with us, and he made acquaintance with a great number of the canine race of high and low degree, though those of low degree, I must say, vastly predominated. We made a collection of all sorts of things,—bits of myrtle, and sandalwood, and leaves, and flowers, and shells; for we were sure our friends at home would highly prize everything coming from Robinson Crusoe's island. We got some delicious milk also, I remember—which sailors as well as Londoners know how to value. There is an abundance of wood on the island, and delicious streams of pure water, one of which runs through the centre of the town. I must not forget to mention the immense quantity of fish we caught. This abundance of fish, Captain Frankland considered, is owing to a cold current which flows by the island from the Southern Pole, and at the same time tempers the air and adds fertility to the soil. The island is about 300 miles from Valparaiso, 33 degrees 30 minutes south latitude. It is about fifteen miles long, and five broad. After we had seen it in all directions, we agreed that it was indeed a pity that it was in the possession of those who were so little able to make a good use of it. I never saw a more idle set of people than the inhabitants who were not compelled to work. All the time we were on shore, they did nothing but walk about or lie down in the shade, wrapped up in their big cloaks.

When we returned on board we accompanied the doctor to see his patient, the mulatto we had rescued from the wreck. The doctor asked him whether he would not go on shore, where he might have fresh fruit and vegetables, and be better taken care of than he could be on board.

"No, no," he answered. "Thank you, though, much. There are no good people in this place. I do not want to be among them."

"Then you know something about them?" said the doctor.

"There are very few places where I do not know somebody," he answered, evasively.

The doctor did not press the point. Indeed the poor man was not in a condition to be carried. He told us that his name was Manuel Silva; that he had all his life been knocking about the world, and that he did not look upon any one country as his home. We asked him no questions, and he did not choose to tell us how he had got on board the vessel where we found him. The next day, when we went on shore, the governor told us that he had often difficult work in keeping the convicts in order, and that not long ago a dozen of them contrived to run off with a boat, headed by a desperate fellow who had been a seaman. They got clear away, and soon after news was brought that a large brig had been attacked and taken, and all the crew made to walk the plank.

"It will be necessary for us, then, to be on our guard," remarked the captain. "They would be ugly customers to fall in with."

"Indeed it will," observed the governor. "They were desperate and cunning fellows, too, and they will, I fear, do no small amount of mischief before they come to an end. I have sent notice to the Chilian Government, who will despatch one of their ships of war in search of the fellows; but in this wide ocean, with thousands of islands among which they may lie hid, there is but little chance of them being found."

We had another day's delightful ramble over the hills and across the valleys of this lonely island; and except that Robinson Crusoe must have found it somewhat dull, being alone for so long before Friday came to him, Jerry and I agreed that he was in no way to be pitied, and that we should like nothing better than having to spend some time there. We did not quite settle how long. There are a number of caves high up in the sides of the mountain, overlooking Cumberland Bay harbour, as it is called; and those barbarous fellows, the Spaniards, compel the convicts, who labour at the stone quarries, to live in them. The challenges of the sentinels, reaching all the way down to the harbour, broke the still silence of the night, as we lay at our anchors, ready to sail with the first dawn on the following morning. A light wind wafted us away from that romantic spot, our visit to which is among the most pleasant recollections of our voyage. We gazed astern as if we were looking our last on the land of our birth, and did not leave the deck till its faint blue mountains had sunk beneath the horizon. In consequence of what we had heard from the governor, we got our guns and small arms in order, to be ready for the supposed pirates, should we fall in with them, while a sharp look-out was kept, that we might not be taken unawares. Captain Frankland was too brave and experienced a man to be afraid of taking necessary precautions on all occasions. It did not occur to the captain, till we had been some time at sea, to inquire of Manuel Silva whether he knew anything of the pirates. Grave suspicions had begun to cross his mind that he was in some way connected with them. Of course Silva denied all knowledge of them. When pressed to give some account of himself, he replied, "I am grateful for all your kindness. If I have an opportunity I will show it. I do not wish to tell you falsehoods, therefore do not press me on that subject." With a favourable breeze we steered a course for the coast of Peru.



CHAPTER TEN.

VISIT TO THE EMPIRE OF THE INCAS.

To the south of Lima, in the Bay of Pisco, are found three small islands, or rather barren rocks. Not a tree grows on them—not a blade of grass. The feathered race for ages past, probably since the last flood rolled over the face of the globe, have made them their abode. Strange as it may seem, they are of more intrinsic value than the richest mines of Potosi; yet their produce is all on the surface, and to be obtained but with little labour. They are the three Chincha Islands, and their produce is guano. It is the result of the droppings of birds, which in that dry and rainless region has preserved all its fertilising qualities, and has been stored up, by the decree of a beneficent Providence, to restore strength and vigour to the far-off lands of the Old World. We sighted them one morning, and running in, brought up in their neighbourhood. There were sixty ships, mostly English, anchored near them, for the purpose of loading with guano; and sometimes there are upwards of a hundred. A boat was lowered, and the captain, Jerry, the doctor, and I, went in her. We had to climb up to the top of one of the islands by a ladder; the cliffs are so steep, and being composed of felspar and quartz, so broken away by the action of the sea, that it is the only method of reaching the summit. The island was covered with thick layers of guano, and one cutting, about a hundred yards from the cliff, was sixty feet deep, or rather high, for the cutting is made into it from the side, just as a slice is cut out of a cheese. A steam-engine is employed in digging it out, and filling a set of cars, which run on a tramway to the edge of the cliff under which the vessels lie to load. Two hundred convicts were engaged in shovelling down the guano, and a number of stout negroes are employed in the hold to distribute it as it comes down through a canvas shoot. They have to wear iron masks, as the fresh guano is stronger than volatile salts, and more penetrating than coal-dust.

The bird which produces the guano is a sort of tern, with red bill and legs. It has a long whisker-like feather curling out under the ear on each side. The top of the head and the tips of the wings and tail are black. The body, which is about ten inches long, is of a dark-slate colour. Large flocks of gulls, divers, and pelicans, likewise visit the islands. It is calculated that, on one island alone, there were 2,000,000 tons of guano; and although from 200,000 to 300,000 tons are annually imported into England, it will take some time to exhaust the supply. Guano is a corruption of the Quichua word huaim. The Quichua is the language of the Incas. Under the enlightened government of the Incas the value of guano was well-known, and severe laws were enacted against any one disturbing the birds during the breeding season. Pulling away to another island, we found a number of Chinese employed in digging out the guano. We were not surprised at seeing them look very miserable and unhappy, for the oppressive odour arising from the fresh-dug guano was intolerable, to us even for a short time. We were told that many of them in their wretchedness commit suicide, flying, through their ignorance, from present evils to those they know not of, instead of endeavouring manfully to support their lot, if inevitable, or to seek proper means to escape from it if they have the power—not that I thought this at the time, by-the-by. I only remarked to Jerry that they were very great fools for their pains. A little way up the bay, on the mainland, is the sea-port of Pisco, a neat Spanish-built place. In the neighbourhood are numerous remains, which prove how populous must have been the country under the sway of the Incas.

Sailing north, we entered the Bay of Callao, the port of Lima. Before us lay Callao, with rich green plains on either side, covered with white farms and willow-trees, with the high cliffs of Morro Solar to the south, and below it the bathing-place of Cherillos. Six or eight miles inland appeared the white towers of Lima, surrounded by orange-groves; while above them, far into the blue sky, rose peak beyond peak of the ever-glorious snow-capped Andes. Such is the scene which, for many ages past, has been looked on; but a change—a great and important one—is taking place in the land; and what was our surprise, when we went on shore, to see English omnibuses and broughams—and more than that, the terminus of a railway, the carriages of which ran rattling on to Lima.

"Funny," cried Jerry, when we found ourselves, with the captain and the doctor, in one of the aforesaid carriages, "to think that we are all away on the other side of that great big straggling continent of America, and yet to feel, as we look about this box, as if we were only skurrying off from London to Liverpool."

I entered into his feelings, and the voyage round Cape Horn, and our different adventures, seemed like a dream, till we looked out and saw the giant Cordilleras, and then we were soon reminded where we were. We met a Peruvian gentleman on the railway, who told us much about the country. Among other things, while the Marquis of Villa Garcia was viceroy of Peru in 1746, on the 28th of October, during a warm but perfectly calm evening, while the inhabitants of Callao and Lima were not dreaming of evil, on a sudden, without a moment's warning, the earth shook with tremendous violence. Every house in Callao fell level with the ground, crushing their hapless inmates. Many of those in Lima were likewise overthrown; and as the affrighted survivors looked seaward, a vast wave like a gigantic wall came roaring on towards the devoted place. In an instant every living soul in Callao, with the exception of one man who clung to a piece of timber, was overwhelmed by the raging waters. Not a vestige of the town remained. On went the wave, carrying with it a Spanish frigate, the Saint Fernim, and other vessels, leaving them high and dry far inland. Lima narrowly escaped complete destruction, and it was long before the inhabitants recovered from the panic into which the catastrophe had thrown them. For years after the destruction of the Inca rule, unhappy Peru groaned under the misgovernment and tyranny of the Spaniards, and rapidly and surely the aboriginal inhabitants decreased in numbers. Several revolts occurred, but were crushed with barbarous severity. At length the colonists of Spain conceived the hope of throwing off the yoke of the mother country. Although frequently defeated, the people of Chili were, by the aid of Lord Cochrane, at last successful. General San Martin, who had become the president, entered Lima on the 19th of July 1821, the viceroy La Cerna being cut off from any support from Spain by the Chilian fleet having retreated to Cuzco, where he took up his head-quarters. Ultimately he was completely defeated, and his whole army was destroyed. On the 20th the independence of Peru was proclaimed, and though the republic was long subject to intestine commotions, from what we could learn and see it now appears to be making very satisfactory progress.

We next wished to get up to Cuzco, the ancient capital of the Incas, situated high up among the Andes; but we had no time to accomplish the journey. We heard, however, of a very interesting place twenty-five miles to the south of Lima, on the coast. It was the city and temple of Pachacamac, "the creator of the world," supposed to have been built in times long anterior to those of the Incas. We had two days to spare before the ship was to sail, and the captain said we might visit the place. The doctor, Jerry, and I, with a guide, a half Indian, set out, accordingly, at an early hour on horseback. We were accompanied by Silva, who, from speaking Spanish perfectly, went as our interpreter. He was still ill, and weak from his wounds and his exposure on the wreck, but he begged so hard that he might go on shore, that the doctor could not refuse him. He had won the regard of all by his respectful and unobtrusive manners, and had managed completely to obliterate the suspicions which the captain at first entertained of him. The doctor told us during the ride more than I knew before about the country. The early inhabitants were worshippers of Pachacamac, and when the Incas introduced the religion of the Sun, instead of destroying the faith they found existing, with an enlightened policy they allowed the temples of both to exist side by side. Passing close to the lofty cliffs of the Morro Solar, we rode through a large sugar estate, and then across a sandy desert, with several lakes in it stocked with water-fowl, and soon afterwards, from the top of a gentle ascent, we saw before us the hill on which stands the remains of the once celebrated temple. The mighty fane stood at the top of the hill, with terraces encircling it, and surrounding the base was the town. Beyond were seen the blue waters of the Pacific rolling on the sandy shore. We could not help feeling sad and awe-struck as we rode into the deserted city. The walls were there, although many were battered down, but the roofs of all had disappeared. Passing through the town, we climbed up a height 400 feet above the sea, where the remains of the great temple were standing. The walls surrounding the centre space are about twenty feet high, and we discovered even some of the vermilion paint with which they were adorned still adhering to them. Below this wall were a succession of three broad terraces. The interior shrine was entirely destroyed by Hernando Pizarro, when he was sent by his brother, at the suggestion of the Inca Atahuallpa, to collect the treasures which it was supposed to contain. The priests had got notice of his purpose, and flying, had concealed the greater portion of their wealth. Disappointed in his expectations, Pizarro having stripped the shrine of all its gold and ornaments, levelled it with the ground. The interiors of the larger portion of the houses were full of sand.

Having wandered about through this melancholy relic of the past with old Surley at our heels, who in no way seemed to enter into our enthusiasm, we turned to retrace our steps to where we had left our horses. We had observed some figures at a distance among the ruins, but they seemed to take no notice of us. Suddenly they disappeared. We found our guide standing by our horses where we had left him. He seemed rather agitated, but we could not make out what had happened, as we did not understand a word of his language. When we mounted, he inquired of us by signs whether we had got pistols. We showed him that we had not, or arms of any sort. He did not treat us as we afterwards thought he might have done had he not been an honest man, and say, "Oh, if that is the case, I will rob you myself." He shook his head and showed us his own long knife, and signified that very likely we should have to use it for our defence. Such was the interpretation, at all events, that we put on his various signs. Silva, who had been a little behind, now came up.

"The poor man has seen some blacks who bear a bad character, it appears, and he is afraid they will attack us," he observed. "However, show a bold front, and we shall easily drive them off if they do." As there was no avoiding the danger, whatever it was, we made up our minds to meet it as well as we could.

"It has something to do with those fellows we saw among the ruins," said Jerry. "Only I think they would have robbed us then, had they intended to do so."

"Perhaps we are mistaken altogether, or, what is as probable, our guide has unnecessarily frightened himself, and tried to frighten us," observed the doctor.

"We shall see, doctor," said I. "I hope you are right." Just then we reached a small hut, such as is inhabited by Indians. Jerry declared that he must have a draught of milk, as we saw some cows feeding near, and before the guide could stop him, he had knocked at the door. Instead of the kindly face of an Indian appearing at his summons, out rushed a big, savage-looking negro, and by his angry gestures seemed to inquire what we wanted.

"A calabash of milk, friend Sambo," answered Jerry, in no ways daunted. While, however, he was speaking, two other blacks appeared at the door, while three or four more, flourishing long knives, came running toward us from a neighbouring wood.

"Put spurs to your horses, boys, and let us get away from this!" cried the doctor. As we were attempting to follow his advice, one of the blacks seized Jerry's rein, and though I struck the fellow a heavy blow with my stick, he would not let go his hold. The consequence of the blow was nearly fatal to me, for the fellow with his other hand struck at me with a long glittering knife, and had not I pulled back my horse by an involuntary movement, he would have plunged it into my side—as it was, he cut my trousers and drew blood from my leg. Seeing things come to this pass, the doctor and Silva, who proved himself a brave fellow, began to lay about them, one with his stick and the other with a heavy Spanish riding whip; while old Surley, who, after growling fiercely, saw that the time for action had now arrived, began to bite away at the negroes' thin calves and long heels, greatly to their annoyance. Each man, as he found himself bit, turned round and endeavoured to stab the dog, and very much afraid I was that they would succeed; but so actively did he jump about from side to side, now bounding here, now there, that not one of the numberless blows which were struck reached him, while his furious barking and repeated bites served most materially to distract the attention of our assailants. Still they were fully eight armed savages to five people with sticks and a whip, and a dog; and as Jerry and I were only boys, and old Surley had only his teeth to fight with, it must be acknowledged that we were very unequally matched. Feeling this, we should certainly have felt it no disgrace to run away if we could; but the black held on so tightly to Jerry's rein that we could not escape. At last the negro I speak of, finding that he had missed me and could not hit the dog, lifted up his long knife and made a desperate lounge with it at Jerry. I saw what he was about to do, and crying out to Surley, my stick instinctively came down with all its force on the ruffian's arm, while the dog sprung up and caught him by the throat. He let go at that moment the rein.

"Now on, boys, on!" sung out the doctor, who saw what had occurred; and bringing our sticks down on our horses' backs, we dashed past the infuriated negroes, on whose heads Silva bestowed many a terrific whack with his stout stick, as they attempted to catch his rein. We were followed closely by the guide and our valiant ally, old Surley, at whom several blows were aimed, but he escaped them all, and at full gallop we pushed over the sandy plain, pursued by our black assailants. Happily they had no fire-arms, or we should have fared ill. When we had got beyond their reach we pulled up and congratulated ourselves on our escape, while old Surley came in for his due share of praise and thanks. He wagged his tail and opened his mouth, as if he were about to speak and say, "I only did my duty, masters; you feed me well, and treat me kindly, and I love you, and am ready to fight for you, and do you any other service in my power, as I hope to prove whenever I have the opportunity."

It was very late when we got back to Lima, to the house of a merchant who had asked us to stay with him. He told us that the blacks who attacked us were, he had no doubt, emancipated slaves, who had always borne a very bad character. Had they been properly educated, and prepared for freedom, they might have turned out well; but those wretches are a melancholy example of what will be found to be the case in other countries where slavery still exists, should the slaves suddenly be made free, or should they rise and win their freedom for themselves. Unless they are carefully trained—taught to depend on their own exertions, and instructed in the pure truths of Christianity— they will, when freed, sink into a state of sloth and wretchedness; or if they rise to obtain their own freedom, they will, very certainly, be guilty of the most dreadful murders and every kind of atrocity in carrying out their designs. I often have since thought of what our friend said, and have prayed that the people of the United States will make due preparation for enlightening those held so long in bondage. On the nature of that preparation it defends (I have often heard Captain Frankland say) whether their dear-bought liberty shall give joy and gladness, or poverty and misery.

The next morning, before returning to Callao, we rode out to visit the ruins of an Inca town, situated on a hill forming one side of a fertile and well-irrigated valley. The walls of the houses were built of unburnt brick and mud, carefully constructed at right angles to each other, and very thick—indeed, they put us in mind of some of the pictures we had seen of Egyptian architecture. We were surprised to hear of the great number of Indians who still exist in the country. Under the present government they live happy and contented lives among the lovely valleys of their ancestors. Their huts are generally built of stone and covered with red tiles, creepers being trained to trail over the walls, over which often a huge pumpkin is seen to hang, while a prickly cactus stands as a sentinel at the doorway. The dress of the men is a serge coat of an emerald green colour, without a collar, and with a short skirt; loose black breeches, open at the knee, after the Spanish fashion; and a long red waistcoat with large pockets. Pieces of llamas' hide fastened round the feet serve them for shoes, while their legs are stockingless. On their heads they wear broad-brimmed hats or caps, adorned with gold-lace or ribbons of gay colours. The women wear the same hat as the men, with a mantle over the shoulder secured in front by a silver pin; a red bodice, and a blue petticoat reaching a little below the knee. Altogether they present a very picturesque appearance. We made another very interesting excursion in a canal up a river—or a stream rather, for it was very narrow—but what we were most struck with was the richness of the vegetation, the bark, reeds, and trees, and shrubs of all sorts which grew close to the water. What was remarkable were the palm-trees, which shot up above the other trees— themselves of no inconsiderable growth. We were sorry not to be able to spend a longer time on the river. It put us very much in mind of the scenery of the Amazon. We saw enough of the country to make us long to see more of it, but were obliged to hurry back to the railway-station to get to Callao, once more to embark on board the Triton.

It was night by the time we reached the harbour, the sea calm as glass; and it struck me that there was something peculiarly solemn as we looked out on that dark, silent expanse of water, after gazing as we had done for some days on the lofty snow-capped Cordilleras, and the laughing green valleys round Lima. Dark as was the water, no sooner were the oars dipped in it than it appeared as if they were ladling up some red-hot fluid metal; and as the boat which was sent to take us off pulled toward us from the ship, she left a long line of fire in her wake. Even when we scooped up the water in our hands and threw it into the air, it appeared like sparkles of fire, so long did it retain its brilliancy. The slightest movement in the water caused a flash of light. Jerry and I agreed that we had never seen anything more beautiful. The doctor told us that this phosphorescence or luminosity of the ocean is caused by a minute animal, scarcely perceptible to the naked eye, though sufficient to tinge the water of a brown or reddish colour. Other marine substances are, however, luminous. While we were waiting to step into the boat, the bay having returned to its original darkness, on a sudden it appeared as if it had become a vast caldron of molten lead. The waters tumbled and rolled about in sheets of flame.

"It is indeed a beautiful sight," exclaimed the doctor; "never saw such a display of luminosity."

"Grand, grand!" cried Jerry. "A thing to talk about—ah! what is that?"

We were all silent. There was a low, rumbling, awful noise, neither like distant thunder nor the report of cannon—nor, indeed, anything else I ever heard; the earth seemed to sink under our feet, and then as if it were being crushed together—rocks, and earth, and sand, all in one lump by some mighty force. It was very dreadful. Our knees positively trembled under us, at least I felt mine doing so. The boat rose and fell several times. I remembered the way in which old Callao had been destroyed, and I began to fear that a similar catastrophe was about to occur. For a time there was a perfect rest, no movement of earth, or water, or air—not the less awful on that account though.

"Is it all over?" at length exclaimed Jerry, who was the first to break the silence.

"I hope so," answered the doctor; "but let us get into the boat, and pull on board; we shall be safer there than on shore, at all events."

We followed his advice. As the boat clove her way through the water she seemed to be gliding over a surface of gold, overlaid by some dark sand which was parted as she went by. When we got on board, we found that our shipmates had felt the shock, the vibration of which must have come up as they supposed by the chain cable. For a long time we walked the deck, expecting another shock, but the night passed off quietly, and when morning returned there was nothing to indicate that an earthquake had taken place. I ought to have said that the present town of Callao was built at a little distance from the site of the old town destroyed by the earthquake, and on a higher and more commanding position.

Once more we were at sea. One of the most interesting places we called at, on account of its position and associations, was Panama. For many a year it slept on neglected and almost forgotten. Now it has been completely aroused from its lethargy, to find itself in the middle of the highway to California, and the chief resting-place of gold-diggers. It is bounded by the sea on three sides, and surrounded by a wall with ditch and bastions on the land side. In the centre is the plaza, into which converge several streets of old-fashioned, sedate-looking Spanish houses, with broad verandas and heavy folding-shutters. Now a change has rudely come over them. Above the door of one appeared, in huge characters—"American Hotel"; while a board announced that "Good Lodging, Brandy Smashes, Sice, and Egg-nog," were to be obtained within. There are several other hotels with conspicuous signs, all denoting that they have been established by citizens of the United States, while there exist several restaurants, cafes, and newspaper and billiard-rooms besides. A steamer had arrived only a few days before at Aspinwall, on the east side, and the town was consequently full of passengers who had come across by the railway. Nowhere, perhaps, are the past and the present brought into greater contrast. We visited the ruins of several churches and other buildings with massive walls, which probably never were finished,—all attesting the departed importance of the place. Now palm-trees grow in their lonely courts; tropical climbing plants throw their festoons in rich luxuriance over their elaborate architecture, and banana-trees have taken root in the clefts of the crumbling walls. Panama, however, is not the identical city whence Pizarro sailed for the conquest of the kingdom of the Incas. That city stood six miles down the coast; and after it was sacked and utterly destroyed by Morgan, who murdered every soul then within it, none returned to take up their habitation there, and it still remains as he left it, a heap of ruins, now overgrown by rank vegetation.

We were fortunate in finding the directions Captain Frankland expected to guide his future course, and I got letters from home. How greedily I devoured them! Every word I read over and over again, and I kissed them more than once, when I knew Jerry was not looking at me. I do not give a longer account of the place, because I was engaged most of the time I was there in writing home. I judged from the delight I felt in getting letters, that mine would afford a somewhat similar pleasure; so I found they did, and I advise those of my readers who have to go away from home to remember this, and never to lose an opportunity of writing. We were bound for San Francisco, the giant mushroom city of the wondrous gold-bearing regions of California. I had always fancied that the Pacific was, as its name betokens, a wide expanse of island-sprinkled water, seldom or never ruffled by a storm. At length I had practical proof of my mistake. We had made a good offing from the coast, to give a wide berth to that narrow strip of land which runs from north to south, and is known as Lower California. I saw the captain looking constantly at the barometer; Jerry and I looked also, for we guessed that something was the matter. The quicksilver sank lower and lower in the tube, showing that the superincumbent atmosphere had become lighter, or more rarified, and that a current of air would soon come in from some direction or other and fill it up.

"What's going to happen?" I asked of Jerry, seeing that the glass, or rather the fluid in it, fell more and more.

"Why, we are going to have such a gale as we don't often meet with, I suspect," he answered. Just as he spoke, his father's voice was heard on dock. We immediately hurried there as fast as we could fly. At the time there was but little wind, then it became perfectly calm, with only a long heavy swell from the southward. The calm was of short duration.

"All hands shorten sail!" sung out the captain. The crew sprung aloft; so did Jerry and I. We never shirked our duty, and Captain Frankland knew that if he let us do so, whatever the excuse, we should never become true seamen. It was hard work to hold on to the yard, much more to get in the stiff canvas. I have heard of people having their teeth blown down their throats by a gale; I thought mine would have gone, and then I should have gone too, for I literally had to hold on by them to steady myself on the yard. Jerry was not far from me. We tugged and hauled away, and at last got the canvas rolled up as we best could; but I must own that it was far from well done. The gale was still increasing in strength, and we were not sorry to find ourselves safe on deck again—so, I think, was the captain to see us. Perhaps, however, he had got so accustomed to the risks his son was constantly running, that he did not think about it. Scarcely had we come down from aloft, and were looking about to see what was going to happen, than we saw away to the south-east, far as the eye could reach, a tumbling mass of foaming waters rushing on at a furious rate towards us.

Meantime the storm stay-sails had been set, and the helm being put down, the ship was hove-to with her head to the eastward. As the seas came with the swell, they were regular, and though the ship plunged violently, now rising to the summit of a wave, now sinking down into the trough, there was no fear of any of them breaking on board provided our masts stood. Such was the state of things when night came on. The wind howled, and whistled, and shrieked; the sea roared and hissed; the timbers and the masts groaned; the bulkheads creaked; and everything and everybody which was not secured very tightly, tumbled and rolled about in a most uncontrollable manner. For my part, I confess that I more than once wished I were safe on shore again. As to turning in, not one of us thought of doing that. Still the glass was falling, and still the gale was increasing. With regard to eating, also, all we could do was to nibble a biscuit; for, as Jerry observed, had we attempted to put anything into our mouths with a fork, the chances were that we should have sent fork and all down our throats, or dug the prongs into our eyes or noses, or done some other mischief. Every now and then Jerry and I started up on deck to see how things were going on, not that we could be of any use there. Just as we had agreed to go below again, a blast, as if a fresh hand had beep added to the bellows, came down upon us; there was a terrific report, the ship heeled over on her side as if she were going down, and away flew the stay-sails out of the bolt-ropes, followed by nearly all the canvas, which, ill furled in our hurry, broke loose from the gaskets, and, fluttering away with loud flaps, was soon reduced to ribbons, knotted and twisted in every conceivable way. As the ship fell off into the trough of the sea when her sails rent, a foaming billow came roaring up, and striking her, made a clean breach over us. There were shouts and cries fore and aft. Jerry and I held on for our lives. Happily the stanchions we held to did not give way. Half terrified, and not knowing what was next to happen, we tried to pierce the gloom which surrounded us. Jerry's chief anxiety was for his father; so was mine, and for Cousin Silas likewise, and, indeed, for our kind friend the doctor. I had time also, strange as it may seem, to think about old Surley, and to hope that he had not been washed overboard, for unwisely he had followed us on deck. Very soon we were satisfied that the captain was safe, for we heard him issuing orders in a clear voice which sounded high above the gale. Directly afterwards Cousin Silas passed us on his way forward, to get the fore-stay-sail on the ship, to bring her head round.

"If that does not do, what will happen?" I asked of Jerry.

"We shall have to cut away the mizzen-mast and the main-mast too," he answered. "Pleasant, won't it be?" I hoped that we should not be driven to this alternative. As soon as the captain had given the necessary orders for the safety of the ship, we heard him telling Ben Yool to go and look for us.

"They be safe enough, sir," was the answer. "I see'd them after the squall."

"Ay, ay, father, we are all right here," sung out Jerry. How high and shrill his voice sounded amid the roar of the tempest! By this time the sail was hoisted, the helm was put up—the ship's head rose and fell, and rose again. At length the canvas felt the force of the wind.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" was shouted fore and aft. Slowly round came her head—the helm was righted. The fore-staysail was quickly hauled down again, or the next squall would have taken it out of the bolt-ropes, and away we flew under bare poles—now plunging headlong into the deep valleys before us, our stern lifted high up above the seas—now climbing the opposite side of the watery hill, the wave following us as it came up, vast and indistinct in the gloom of night, looking as if it must overwhelm us.

"But what has become of old Surley?" I asked of Jerry, when we had time to draw our breath a little more freely. "Can the dear old fellow be washed overboard?"

"I hope not; perhaps he didn't like the look of things on deck, and skulked down below again," answered Jerry. "Let us go and look for him."

This was no easy work, in the way the ship was pitching and tumbling about, and not without considerable risk; but on that point we did not very much trouble our heads. Old Surley was always ready to fight for us; and had we thought about the matter, we should have been ready to go through any amount of danger for his sake. Letting go our hold, therefore, away we crawled, grasping at anything we could reach, to prevent ourselves from being rolled away to leeward. At last we reached the forecastle, where the men had all huddled together, but old Surley was not there. This made us very anxious about him. No one had seen him. We began to fear that, as he had not hands to hold on by, he must have been washed overboard when the heavy sea struck the ship which had laid her on her beam ends.

"You'd better not be scuttling about the decks, young gentlemen," said Ben Yool. "Another of those big seas may come, and then if you are caught by it you may be carried away further off than you'll like."

"Thank you, Ben," we answered. "We'll take care of ourselves; but we must first find old Surley, whatever happen." Saying this, we began to work our way aft again, peering and putting our hands into every place where we thought he could be stowed away. As we were passing along close to the booms on the starboard side, under the long boat, I thought amidst the howling of the tempest that I heard a low whine. I told Jerry. We together hunted about the spot till our hands touched a hairy coat. It was that of old Surley. Of that we were certain, by hearing him again whine. He could not move. Poor fellow, he had been jammed in among the booms. We judged that there would be great difficulty in releasing him, but after feeling about in all directions round him, we determined to make the attempt. I took his head and Jerry took his tail, and, watching our opportunity as the spars separated by the movement of the ship, we lifted him out of the trap in which he had been caught. He licked my face and hands, and then turned round and did the same to Jerry; indeed, he took every means to evince his gratitude. We were very happy to find that none of his bones had been broken, and together we all three scrambled back in the best way we could to the cabin. Old Surley seemed to be very hungry after his imprisonment, so I made another excursion on deck to the cook's larder, and got him a piece of meat, with which I returned to the cabin. We should have been glad of something of the sort ourselves, but as we could not attempt to cook anything, and the meat I had brought was raw, we gave the whole of it to our four-footed friend. We all sat down on the deck of the cabin, holding on by the legs of the table—that is to say, Jerry and I held on, and Surley lay between us. The doctor was in his berth. After, as he said, he had sufficiently enjoyed the scene on deck, he had wisely turned in, feeling that he could be of no use anywhere else. Never before had I spent so uncomfortable a night on board. We were very wet, and cold, and hungry, and not at all certain that the ship would not go down, and carry us and all hands with her.

"It's not so bad, though, as the time we spent on the bottom of the boat among the Falkland Islands," observed Jerry.

"But that only lasted a short time," I remarked. "For what we know, it may blow as hard as it does now for a week to come. What shall we do then?"

"Grin and bear it. That's the only thing to be done that I know of," answered Jerry.

All that night we sat up as I have described, now and then dozing off for a short time, but then waking up again as the ship gave a more tremendous plunge than before. At last the captain came and lay down on the sofa, and seeing that we were all safe, went to sleep; but he was soon on deck again, and remained there till daylight. All that day the gale blew as hard, if not harder than ever, and we went rolling and pitching away before it. All the people were sent below except the hands at the wheel, and they secured themselves there, lest they should be washed away by the seas which threatened every moment to break aboard us. As to looking out, all we could see were the foaming mountains of water rising up in broken masses around us, and the sheets of spray which never-ceasingly flew over us. Night came on again, and matters had not mended. The glass was still lower than ever. Jerry and I had managed to shift our clothes, so that we were more comfortable than on the former night, and old Surley had had a lesson not to venture on deck again. His coat was thus dry, and we all lay down together to pass the night. Having scarcely closed our eyes the night before, we soon went to sleep. Never have I slept more soundly. Suddenly I woke up. The ship was plunging as heavily as before, and the wind was howling and the sea roaring as loudly as ever. Still only half awake, I found my way up the companion-ladder. I looked out. No one was to be seen on deck—the dark mountain seas and the confused mass of rigging could alone be perceived. I cast my eyes aloft? What was that I saw? High up in the air, at the main-topmast-head, there was perched a ball of fire. I was so astonished, and, I may say, alarmed, that I could not speak. What could the phenomenon portend? It stayed there for some time, then all of a sudden it glided down, and went out to the main-top-sail yard-arm— a bright, glowing, flaming ball. It will be setting the ship on fire! I thought that I would go and rouse up some one to tell what I had seen, in case there was any danger to be apprehended. Still I could not tear myself away from my post. I shouted out to Jerry, but he did not hear me. I was just returning below when I found Cousin Silas at my shoulder.

"So, Harry, you want to find out when the gale will have done blowing," said he.

"Yes, I do indeed; but look there!" I exclaimed, pointing to the ball of fire.

"Ah, there's old Jack o' lantern!" he answered composedly. "Not a bad sign either. A gale seldom lasts long after he has come. Look at him, he is rather playful to-night." He was indeed. Sometimes the light would ascend and then descend the masts, then run along the yards, and waiting a little at each yard-arm, would be back again and slip down one of the stays to the fore-mast, and mount up in a second to the fore-topmast head. Sometimes, when the ship rolled very much, the mast-head would leave it floating in the air, but as she rolled back again it would quickly re-attach itself. More than once it got divided into several parts, as it flew about the rigging, but was very speedily re-united again. Cousin Silas laughed when I told him that I thought it might do us some injury.

"Oh no; Jack is a very harmless fellow," he answered. "More than once, when it has not been blowing as hard as it does now, before I was out of my apprenticeship, I and others have chased Jack about the rigging, and caught him too. When near, he seems to have a very dull, pale light. I and another fellow determined to have him. At last I clutched him. I felt that I had got something clammy, as it were, which stung my skin like a handful of thin jelly-fish. I brought him down on deck, and clapped him into a box. In the morning I could feel that there was something in the box, but all the light was gone, and the box hadn't been opened long before the thing, whatever it was, was gone too."

Had anybody but Cousin Silas given me this account, I should scarcely have believed him; and even in this case I had some little difficulty in not supposing that he must, in some way or other, have been deceived.

Jack, however, did not bring us the fine weather we wished for. Daylight returned, and we were little better off than before. We nibbled some biscuit, as Jerry said, to keep our spirits up, and then had a look at the glass. It had risen two degrees. Still the sea ran very high. Jerry and I went at last on deck, followed by Surley. The captain and officers were there, for they had resolved to try and bring the ship to; as she was running a long way out of her course. This, after a time, was done, when the wind lulled, under a close-reefed fore-topsail. We rode after this much more pleasantly, and then the sea began to go down, and once more we could move about the deck without danger of being washed overboard.

"All hands make sail!" was at length the cheering cry, just as the sun had set, as the poets say, in his ocean bed. We sprang aloft—Jerry and I racing who should be first up on the yard-arm. Surley looked as if he would like to follow. Jerry beat me. The ship was still rolling heavily in the swell after the gale. He was springing out towards the yard-arm, laughing gaily at his success, when the ship gave a roll, and away he was sent clear of the bulwarks and into the sea. To glide down by a back-stay and to jump overboard after him was the work of a moment. I scarcely knew what I was doing. I fancied that I just heard the cry of "A man overboard;" but I was not certain. I knew that I was for my size a good swimmer, and I wanted to save my friend. He could swim, but not much. He threw up his arms; I saw him, and struck out towards him. I had a companion, I found, hastening also to his rescue. It was old Surley. He swam faster than I did, seeming to know the importance of haste. We were not without means of support, for as Jerry fell the life-buoy had been let go. It was such as are carried by men-of-war, and could support several people. I sung out to Jerry. He heard my voice, but he only answered faintly. He had got his mouth full of water, and had been stunned and confused by his fall. He was beating the water wildly, forgetting apparently that he could swim.

"Help! help!" he sung out; "I'm sinking! I'm sinking!" I did my utmost to reach him, but was still some way off. Surley dashed towards him, and seized him by the collar, holding his head above water. I saw that the best thing I could do was to tow the life-buoy up to him. It was not far off. Surley seemed to divine my intention, and swam towards it. At last I got it up to Jerry. He had just strength enough left to catch hold of it. Old Surley put his paws in the beckets to support himself, and then we all three were hanging on to the life-buoy, while the ship, as it seemed to us, was running far away, already almost concealed by the thick clouds of spray with which we were surrounded.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

ADVENTURES IN MEXICO.

"I am so glad you are saved, Jerry," said I. These were the first words I spoke after we had got hold of the life-buoy.

"But are we saved?" he exclaimed. "Will the ship be able to come back? and if she does, will they see us, do you think?"

"They'll not desert us—of that we may be certain," I replied; and I thought how heart-broken Captain Frankland would be when he found that his son had fallen overboard and was in all probability lost. Strange to say, I did not think at all of my own perilous position. I had gone to save Jerry, and it seemed a matter of course that I must save him. It must be remembered that our heads were very little above the level of the water, and that although the sea had gone down considerably, we were surrounded by masses of foam—now sinking into the trough, now rising to the top of a wave. Our view, therefore, was very limited. We were looking out eagerly for the ship through the thickening gloom. Happily, when the life-buoy was let go, the trigger was pulled. This set off a sort of blue light, which burned at the top, and which water could not extinguish. We felt sure, therefore, that as long as that light continued burning we should be seen by those on board. Our great dread was that the light would go out before the ship could get back to us. We strained our eyes in the direction of the ship. The thickening gloom and mist were rapidly encircling her, and shrouding her from our sight.

"O Harry, Harry, she's going away, and they won't know where to look for us!" cried Jerry. "Poor father, what will he do? and my carelessness has brought you into this trouble, and poor Surley too. I wish you hadn't jumped overboard for me."

"I'm very glad I did, for I don't think that you would have been alive now if I had not," I answered; "and don't have any regrets about me—I only did my duty, and I am sure that you would have done the same for me. But I say, do you remember what Mr Brand talked about when we were holding on by the bottom of the boat among the Falklands?"

"Yes, I do; something about our being summoned before many moments to stand before the Judge of all the world," answered Jerry. "I've been thinking of that just now."

"So have I," said I. "Well, it strikes me that if we thought about it oftener we should be better prepared for the time when it does come. Come it will, I know,—'as a thief in the night,' the Bible says. I'll try and think more on the subject, so that when the moment does come I may be ready."

Many people make resolutions as we did: how few keep them! It is extraordinary that we should have been able to talk so much in the position in which we were placed. As I was saying, we strained our eyes gazing after the ship.

"Jerry," I exclaimed suddenly, "she has hove about—I am certain of it! See, see! she is coming nearer!"

Breathlessly we watched. Even though the gloom was thickening, we could discern that her bow was turned towards us. We shouted in our eagerness—not to show where we were: there was no use in that, nor could we have made ourselves heard; the light also from the life-buoy was still burning brightly. On came the ship towards us. There was no doubt about the matter.

"There's down with the helm!" cried Jerry. "They are going to heave to—hurrah! hurrah!"

In another minute the ship lay hove-to a short distance to windward of us. She looked like some huge dark spirit rising out of the ocean. We knew that they must be lowering a boat, though we could not see it. Then we shouted, to show that we were all right and in good heart. A shout from the boat's crew was given in return, and a light was held up to show us that help was coming. Over the waves it came dancing towards us. In a few minutes more the boat was up to us, with Mr Brand at the helm. Whenever any very important work was to be performed, I observed the captain liked to intrust it to Cousin Silas.

"Take old Surley off first!" exclaimed Jerry. Manuel Silva, who had, it appeared, insisted on coming, was about to help him in. "He has had hard work to hold on, poor fellow." So Surley was taken into the boat, and then I, for Jerry would not get in till the last; and then the life-buoy was lifted in, and in a very short time we were all safe on deck, and the ship once more steering towards the American coast.

We were earned below—that is to say, Jerry and I. The men took care of Surley. We were put into our berths, and the doctor came to us, and we were rubbed, and had some hot brandy and water; and then I, at all events, felt all to rights. Jerry had been hurt by his fall, and it took him much longer to recover. The captain went and sat by him; and Jerry told me that he heard him offering up his thanks to our merciful God for having restored his son to him. He then came and talked to me, and told me how sorry he should have been had I been lost, and how grateful he felt to me for having been the means of saving his son's life. I do not know exactly what I said. I remember I told him what I was sure of,—that Jerry would have done exactly the same for me. There was this difference, that I could swim very well, and that Jerry could swim very little, so that I deserved less thanks than he should have done had he jumped in for me, considering that he would have run far greater risk for my sake than I had done for his. The captain smiled when I said this, but made no remark. He had always been kind to me,— he was now kinder than ever; but this did not prevent him from taking every means to make me a sailor, and to keep me to my duty, while at the same time he afforded me every opportunity of seeing as much as possible of the world through which we were passing.

Silva, as I before have said, by his quiet manners, readiness to lend a hand when any work was going forward, and anxiety to be on good terms with all, had completely won the good-will of everybody on board. He was evidently a man of some attainments, and was more likely to have been an officer than a man before the mast. With Jerry and me he was apparently very frank. He told us how when a young lad he had been turned adrift into the world to seek his fortune, without parents or any one to care for him; and how he had battled on, picking up information where he could, reading what books he could lay hands on, and laying in a store of knowledge for future use.

"I have served on board vessels of every description. I've been on board slavers, and merchant vessels, and men-of-war of several nations. I've served with Lord Cochrane both in the Pacific and Atlantic; and for a long time I was in an opium clipper in the China Seas; but, as you know, lads, a rolling stone gathers no moss, and here I am, as poor as I was when I first began life. However, there are plenty of ways by which a man may make his fortune if he chooses, and I must find one of them some of these days."

He spoke in a desperate, careless tone, as if he in reality cared very little what became of him, or what he did. We had begun to feel a strong liking for the man, and were now inclined to pity him sincerely.

I will not describe another gale which came on, and drove us away to the southward and westward for several days, the wind shifting about so much that we scarcely knew where we had got to. At length, when it had moderated, so that an observation could be taken, we found that we were on the coast of Mexico, not far from the harbour of Mazatlan, near the entrance of the Gulf of California. The ship had been so battered about during the gale, that the captain was glad of an opportunity of running into harbour to repair damages, before proceeding to San Francisco, where he could not expect to find workmen, and where, if he remained long, his own crew might be tempted to desert. As we stood in for the shore, a few barren rocks or small islands appeared in sight, and running through, we found ourselves before a pretty little town, part of it standing on the foot of a steep promontory, and partly on a sandy bank which encircles a wide lagoon. This was Mazatlan. It is inhabited by Mexican Spaniards. The first mate, Mr Renshaw, had not been on shore during the voyage, so the captain insisted on his going with the doctor and Jerry and me. We first went to an inn—a meson, as it was called. It consisted of a quadrangular building, with a court-yard in the centre, and a corridor running round it. All the rooms opened into this corridor, and had no communication with each other. The corridor was the general lounging-place; and at night many of the guests who preferred air to privacy, slung their hammocks in it. Round the walls, or on the pillars, they also hung up their saddles and other riding gear. As to furniture, there is something like a bedstead, a wooden elevation which keeps the sleeper from the floor; but chairs and tables are luxuries seldom met with, while washhand-stands are things unheard of—washing being but little in vogue among the travelling population. We were fortunate in falling in with two Englishmen—that is to say, one, Captain Driscoll, was an Irishman, who had been in the Mexican service; and the other, Dr Dwyer, was a merchant. They knew the country well, and were travelling towards Durango, the largest town in the neighbourhood. They had with them two young men, sons of rancheroes, as the Mexican cattle-farmers are called. They both lived some way up the country, and as they also were bound to Durango, and had speedily to return, it was arranged that we should all travel together. With the addition of our new friends' two servants, we thus together mustered ten persons. We were all of us well-armed, and not without necessity: our friends told us that the country had lately been infested by large bands of Comanche Indians, who had been driven away from the borders of the United States, and had discovered that they were able to carry on their depredations among the Mexicans almost with impunity. "They are not likely to attack a well-armed party, and if they do, we can give a good account of them." This account only the more excited our interest, and we quite hoped that the Indians would attack us. When we first went to the inn, we saw a large party on horseback just setting out, we understood, in the same direction. They were all armed to the teeth,—with pistols in their belts, some with swords by their sides, and others with lances or rifles. They made a gay appearance on their richly caparisoned steeds, with their broad-brimmed hats and feathers, bright-coloured sashes, trousers open at the knees, with silver buttons and loose jackets, with yellow boots and large silver spurs. They were laughing loudly and talking; and as they flourished their spears and rifles, they boasted how they would treat any Indians who might dare to attack them. The doctor said he thought that it was a pity we had not been ready to accompany them.