"He was, as you know, afterwards imprisoned and expelled the house, and has suffered persecutions of all kinds. Westminster, however, has remained faithful to him, and has returned him at every election, and he has never relaxed his strenuous efforts to obtain naval reforms and to vindicate his own character. On both points I need hardly say that I am heart and soul with him, and so terrible is the persecution to which he has been in a variety of ways exposed, that I cannot blame him if his zeal has at times outrun his discretion. Most other men would, like poor Parker, have sunk under such treatment as he has received. As I told you, we did not get anything like a tithe of the prize-money we should have received for our captures, and his share of it was more than spent in his litigation with dishonest officials. Fortunately, I laid out a portion of my share of the prize-money in buying this house, and invested the remainder in the funds, and it has enabled me to live in comfort, which I certainly could not have done had I been wholly dependent upon my half-pay. Although it has been most annoying remaining for so many years unemployed, I do not regret having served with Cochrane in the Speedy, the Pallas, and the Imperieuse, for indeed no three ships of their size ever inflicted such damage upon the enemy's commerce, captured so many ships, or performed more gallant exploits. When I am dead I shall leave instructions that the words, 'He served with Cochrane in the Speedy, the Pallas, and the Imperieuse', shall be placed on my tombstone. They will be by far the most striking testimony that could be written as to my career as a sailor."



CHAPTER IX.

IN CHILI.

Seeing that a boat was advertised to sail from Dover to Calais on the 11th of August, Lieutenant Embleton and Stephen went over there on the evening before; going on board at seven in the morning, they arrived at Calais at mid-day. Mr. Hewson had obtained passports for them, and they went on next morning by diligence to Boulogne. Stephen's chest was at once taken on board the Rose. Making inquiries at the mairie they learned that Lord Cochrane had arrived with his family on the previous day from England, and had put up at the Cheval Blanc Hotel. They therefore went there and engaged rooms, and then called upon Lord Cochrane.

"You have arrived in good time, Embleton," he said as they entered. "When did you come?"

"Two hours ago we got in from Calais, and I have just been on board the Rose and left my lad's traps there; then I found out at the mairie that you had arrived and had put up here, and we have also taken up our quarters in the house."

"We laugh at these French official regulations," Lord Cochrane said, "but they have their advantages. If this had been an English town you might have spent half the day in looking for me. I have not been on board the Rose yet; in fact, she only arrived here last night, and as the cabins have been engaged for some time there was no occasion to hurry about it. In fact, this morning I have been engaged in laying in a good stock of wine, not for the voyage but for use in Chili. Of course one gets it here a good deal cheaper than in England, as one saves the duty; and besides, I might have had some trouble with the custom-house here if it had been sent over. I don't suppose they would admit their own wine and brandy without charging some duty upon it. Are you ready to enter upon your duties, Mr. Embleton?"

"Quite ready, my lord."

"Well, I have nothing for you to do, and as far as I am concerned your duties will be a sinecure until the day we arrive in Chili. Katherine, you must take this young gentleman in hand."

Lady Cochrane smiled. "I am new to command, Mr. Embleton. Lord Cochrane has not been to sea since our marriage six years ago, and consequently I am altogether in ignorance of the powers of an admiral's wife. Are you fond of children?"

"I don't know anything about them, Lady Cochrane; I have never had any little brothers and sisters. Of course some of my school-fellows had them, and it always seemed to me that they were jolly little things when they were in a good temper."

"But not at other times, Mr. Embleton?"

"Well, no," he said honestly, "they did not seem particularly nice when they got in a passion."

"My children don't get into passions," Lady Cochrane said with a laugh, "at least very very seldom."

"Don't praise them up too much, Katherine," her husband said. "Children are naturally plagues; and though unfortunately I have been so busy a man that I have not had time to do more than make their casual acquaintance, I don't expect that they differ much from others; and besides, even I fly into passions occasionally—"

"Occasionally?"

"Well, pretty often, if you like—I certainly shall not be surprised if I find that they take after me."

The next two days were spent by Mr. Embleton and Stephen in exploring Boulogne.

"I have often looked at the place from the sea," the lieutenant said, "as we were cruising backwards and forwards, keeping a bright look-out to see that Bonaparte's boat flotilla did not put to sea, but I did not expect that I should some day be walking quietly about the streets."

"Lady Cochrane seems very nice, father," Stephen said presently, as they strolled along the wharves watching the French fishing-boats come in.

"She is very nice; and so she ought to be, for she has cost Lord Cochrane a fortune. She was a Miss Barnes, and was an orphan of a family of good standing in the Midlands; she was under the guardianship of her cousin, who was high sheriff of Kent when Cochrane first met her. He fell in love with her and was accepted; he was at that time living with his uncle, the Hon. Basil Cochrane, who had realized a large fortune in the East Indies, and was anxious that Cochrane should marry the only daughter of an official of the admiralty court. Even had he not been attached to Miss Barnes the proposal was one that was signally distasteful to Cochrane. He had been engaged in exposing the serious malpractices by which the officials of the admiralty court amassed great fortunes at the expense of the seamen, and for him to have benefited by these very malpractices would have seemed a contradiction of all his principles. His uncle in vain pointed out to him that the fortune he himself would leave him, and that which he would obtain by the marriage, would suffice to reinstate the Earls of Dundonald in their former position as large landowners.

"Cochrane's determination was unshaken and he married Miss Barnes, so his uncle cut him out from his will entirely and broke off all acquaintance with him. I am sure, however, he has never for a moment regretted his choice. I believe that she makes him as perfectly happy as it is possible for a man of his restless disposition to be."

On the 15th of August, 1818, the Rose sailed from Boulogne, and Lieutenant Embleton, who had remained on board with his son until she got under way, returned to England.

"Do you know anything about this Chilian business?" Lord Cochrane asked Stephen as they walked up and down the deck together on the following morning.

"My father told me a little about it, sir, but he said that he had not paid much attention to the matter until he received your kind offer to take me."

"Well, lad, it is well you should know something about the rights and wrongs of the struggle in which you are going to take part. You know that the Spaniards obtained their possessions in South America partly by right of discovery, and partly by the papal bull that settled the matter. The Portuguese were given the east coast, while to Spain were handed, besides the islands, the vast territories of Mexico and Central America and the whole of the western portion of South America. In extent it considerably surpassed that of Europe, and its natural wealth, had it been properly administered, would have been fabulous. The Spaniards, however, thought but of two things: one was to force the natives to embrace their religion, the other to wring all they possessed from them. The first caused the death of great numbers of the Indians; the second brought about the virtual enslavement of the whole of the native races.

"The tyranny practised by the Spaniards upon these poor people was inconceivable. Tens of thousands, I may say hundreds of thousands, perished from the labour exacted from them in the mines, and the whole people were kept in a state of poverty that the Spanish officials might be enriched, and that the annual amount of gold and silver sent to Spain might be obtained. No doubt it was the successful revolt of the North American colonies against us that first inspired these down-trodden people with the hope of shaking off the intolerable yoke under which they suffered. The first leader they found was Francesco Miranda, a Creole of Venezuela, that is to say, he belonged to a Spanish family long settled there. He came over to Europe in 1790, and two years later took part in the French Revolution. Hearing that revolutionary movements had taken place in Mexico and New Granada against Spain he obtained a promise of assistance from Pitt, who naturally embraced the opportunity of crippling Spain, which was hostile to us, and in 1794 went out and threw himself into the struggle, which continued with but doubtful success for some years.

"In 1806 Miranda obtained some valuable aid from my uncle, Sir Alexander Cochrane, who was then in command of the West Indian station, and things looked much brighter for the cause of independence. But unfortunately a few months later Pitt died, the Whigs came into power, and as usual a feeble policy succeeded a strong one, and all aid was withdrawn from Miranda. The result was that, for a time, the Spaniards were able to crush the insurgents. In 1810 Miranda again organized a revolt in Venezuela; but he was unable to cope with the power of Spain, and two years later he was taken a prisoner and sent to Madrid, where he died in prison. However, his work had not been without result, for the same year that he commenced his unfortunate venture in Venezuela a revolt broke out in Mexico headed by a priest named Miguel Hidalgo. This was conducted in a barbarous fashion and was speedily crushed. Two leaders of a better type, Morelos and Rayon, still continued to carry on the war, but their forces were defeated in 1815, and though I believe there has been occasional fighting since then, matters have been comparatively quiet.

"In South America things went better. In 1809 a revolt broke out at Quito; it was headed by a man named Narenno. His force, however, was never strong enough to seriously menace the power of Spain. However, for five years he maintained a guerrilla warfare, fighting with desperate bravery until he was captured and sent to Spain, where I believe he also died in prison. So far a great deal of blood had been shed, great destruction of property effected, and Spain had been put to a vast expense, but the situation was practically unaltered. A change was, however, at hand. Bolivar, a native of Caracas, had been brought up in Europe, but, stirred by the news of the struggle that his countrymen were maintaining, he went out in 1810 to join Miranda in Venezuela. When the latter was defeated and taken prisoner Bolivar crossed into New Granada, where an insurrection had broken out, and his knowledge of European methods of warfare and discipline soon placed him at the head of the movement there, and two years after his arrival he was appointed Captain-general of New Granada and Venezuela.

"The title was an empty one, and in a very short time he was defeated and forced to fly from the country by a formidable Spanish army, which was sent out in 1815 to crush the rebellion. Bolivar fled to Jamaica, where he remained but a few months. He organized a considerable force in Trinidad in 1816, and landed again on the mainland. The cruelties perpetrated by the conquering Spaniards upon the population, had stirred up so intense a feeling of hatred against them that Bolivar was speedily joined by great numbers of men. He gained success after success, swept the northern provinces clear of the Spaniards, founded the republic of Colombia, of which he was elected president, drove the tyrants out of New Granada, and marching south freed the province of La Plata from the Spanish yoke. While these events had been taking place in the northern and western provinces the national movement had extended to Chili. Here in 1810 the people rose, deposed the Spanish Captain-general Carrasco, and set up a native government, of which the Count De La Conquista was at the head.

"The movement here was not so much against Spain, whose sovereignty was still recognized, as against the Spanish governor, and to obtain a series of reforms that would mitigate the tyranny that had been exercised. Naturally, however, these reforms were obnoxious in the extreme to the Spanish authorities, and in 1811 the Spanish troops attempted to overthrow the new government. They were, however, unsuccessful; the revolution triumphed, and the rule of Spain was formally thrown off, and Chili declared an independent state. This was a good beginning, but troubles set in almost directly. Three brothers, of the family of Carrera, set to work to turn the popular movement to their own benefit, and by their intrigues overthrew the National Congress, and established a new government with the elder of them as its head. So much dissatisfaction was caused by the corruption and misgovernment of the Carreras, that the Spaniards endeavoured to reconquer Chili.

"When the danger was imminent a new actor came to the front. General O'Higgins, a man of Irish descent, whose father had been a Spanish viceroy of Peru, was put at the head of affairs in November, 1813, and the Spaniards, who had won their way to the capital, were forced by his good generalship to retire again. The intrigues of the Carreras, however, still divided the forces of Chili, and the Spaniards again advanced from Peru. O'Higgins, seeing the danger, effected a junction with the forces of the Carreras, and offered to give them his support, and to resign his position in their favour, if they would co-operate with him. The Carreras, however, held aloof with their bands from the battle, and left O'Higgins and his little body of 900 men to oppose 4000 Spanish troops. The natural result was the defeat of the Chilians. On the 1st of October O'Higgins, with his little party, were attacked at Rancagua by the Spaniards, and for thirty-six hours resisted their continuous attacks. The Carreras' force was but a short distance away, and both sides expected them to attack the Spaniards in rear. They preferred, however, that their rival, as they regarded him, should be destroyed, and held aloof.

"At last O'Higgins, with but 200 men—all that now survived of his force—was driven into the great square of the town, and surrounded on all sides. He still resisted, however, until half his force had fallen, and then, although seriously wounded, he placed himself at the head of the survivors, cut his way through the enemy, and effected his retreat. The extraordinary valour displayed by the Chilians in this battle stirred our English blood, and we felt that here was a people who had not, like the rest of the South American races, become absolutely demoralized by centuries of misgovernment by the Spaniards. At the time, however, their cause seemed lost. The Carreras submitted without trying to strike another blow, and O'Higgins, with the handful of survivors from Rancagua, and some hundreds of fugitives, crossed the Andes into La Plata, where they remained for two and a half years in exile. General San Martin, who fought under Bolivar, and had taken the leading part in aiding La Plata to obtain its freedom, felt himself strong enough at the beginning of 1817 to aid O'Higgins to recover Chili from the Spaniards, who had been carrying out wholesale confiscations and persecutions among all who had taken any part in the revolution.

"In February they crossed the Andes with 5000 men, fell upon the main Spanish army, of about the same strength, which was encamped on the heights of Chacabuco, a position from which they overawed all the large towns. Having the advantage of surprise, they completely defeated the Spaniards, and in a very short time drove them altogether out of Chili. The republic was again established, and the presidency offered to San Martin. He declined the honour, however, and it was then conferred upon O'Higgins. He and his council saw that it was impossible to hope for permanent peace so long as the Spaniards were able to gather armies in Peru, and pour them down into Chili whenever they chose, so he lost no time in sending Don Jose Alvarez over here to endeavour to raise money in the name of the republic to build war-ships, and enlist public sympathy on their behalf.

"Among other things he was commissioned to offer me the command of the Chilian fleet as soon as one should be created; and as my sympathies were very strongly with the brave people who were struggling against tyranny, I at once accepted, but have been detained in England upwards of a year trying to get the war-steamer that we have been building completed. At last the Chilians have concluded that as they cannot get the steamer they may as well get me, and so you see I am on my way out."

"Thank you, sir," Stephen said; "I shall feel a great interest now in the cause of the Chilians. My father told me they were fighting against the Spaniards, but I did not interest myself much in the matter, and thought much more of the honour of serving under you than of the Chilian cause. Now that I know that they are really a brave people, struggling to maintain their freedom, I shall feel proud of fighting in so good a cause."

"How old are you, Mr. Embleton?"

"I was sixteen some months ago, sir."

The admiral nodded: "A very useful age for work; you are old enough to hold your own in a fight, not old enough to begin to think that you know all about everything. Now, tell me all about that affair of yours when you lost your ship. Tell me everything you can think of, just as it happened. Don't exaggerate your own share in it, but, on the other hand, let me know what you did and what you said. You see I know very little about you as yet; but if you will tell me all the details of the business I shall be able to form some idea as to how far I shall be able to entrust the carrying out of my orders to you, and to confide in your ability to discharge any special missions on which I may employ you. You see, Mr. Embleton, the conduct of the Chilians in that matter of the Carreras shows that, however bravely they may fight, as yet they have not much idea of subordination. They know nothing of sea-service, and the chances are that interest and family will go further in obtaining the appointment of officers to ships than any question of abilities; and it will be very useful for me to have some one I can trust—even if only a junior officer—to see that my orders are carried out when I cannot be present myself; therefore, I want to gather from your story exactly how you would be likely to behave under difficult circumstances. We will sit down in these two deck-chairs; and you shall tell me the story exactly as you would tell it to your father. Remember that I am in no hurry. This voyage is going to last a good many weeks. The more you tell the story in detail the better I shall be pleased."

So closely did the admiral question Stephen as to every detail that it took many hours to tell the story. Even when he mentioned about the idea that by putting some water in his watch-glass he could, when the sun was overhead, use it as a burning-glass, the admiral stopped him to inquire about the watch.

"Is it the one you are carrying now?"

"Yes."

"Then let me look at it. Handsome watch, youngster; did your father give it to you?" And then Stephen had to break off from his story, and to tell exactly how it came into his possession—the whole history of his trading, and its result. The story was not brought to a conclusion until the following afternoon.

"Very good, Mr. Embleton," Lord Cochrane said; "now I know a great deal more about you than I did before, and feel that I can employ you without hesitation in matters in which brain as well as courage is required. If I had heard your story before I would have taken out that sailor as my coxswain. Between you, you showed a great deal of resource, and, as far as I can see, the credit of the matter may be divided between you. Your getting your fellow-midshipman out of the hands of the Malays was well managed. You took every precaution possible to throw them off the scent. You acted very wisely in deciding to make for that wreck when you discovered its position; and you showed good powers of resource in your arrangements there, especially in the matter of getting fire. I hear from your father that you are well up in navigation, and altogether I congratulate myself on having a young officer with me whom I can trust. It was, of course, a mere matter of chance I appointed you—simply in order to oblige your father, who is a gallant officer, and who has suffered in his profession owing to having served under me. Among the many applications made to me were some for young officers who possessed very high testimonials of conduct and good service, and I may say frankly that I was more than a little tempted to regret that I had selected one of whose conduct I knew nothing, although I felt sure that your father's son would assuredly have no lack of courage and ability. However, I am now well content that I made the choice I did, indeed I feel sure that I could not have made a better one."

It was a long voyage, for the Rose met with such bad weather off the Cape that she was at first unable to weather it, and it was ten weeks from the date of her sailing before she entered the harbour of Valparaiso. The voyage had been of advantage to Stephen. In the rough weather off the coast he had volunteered for duty, and had shown activity and courage, going aloft to reef or furl sails in the worst weather. He had, too, by his readiness at all times to take the children off Lady Cochrane's hands, to play with them, and to tell them stories, gained the warm approbation of their parents, and, before they arrived at Valparaiso, the admiral treated him with a kindness and cordiality such as he might have shown to a young nephew acting as his flag-midshipman. Lord Cochrane was received at Valparaiso, and at Santiago, the capital, with enthusiasm—dinners, fetes, and balls were given in his honour; and although he cared but little for such things, it could not but be gratifying to him, after the cruel treatment he had met with from those for whom he had performed such brilliant services, to find that elsewhere his reputation stood at the highest point.

Stephen, who of course accompanied the admiral on all occasions, enjoyed these festivities very much more than did Lord Cochrane. To him it was all quite new, and very pleasant. He shone in the reflected light of the admiral, and was made a great deal of by the young Chilian ladies, the only drawback being his ignorance of the language. He had, however, on the way out, picked up a little from some Chilian passengers on board the Rose, and it was not long before he was able to talk to a certain extent to his partners in the dances. Nevertheless, much as he enjoyed himself, he was by no means sorry when, on the 22nd of December, Lord Cochrane, who had received his commission as Vice-admiral of Chili, and Commander-in-chief of its naval forces, hoisted his flag on board the principal ship of the Chilian navy.

He had arrived none too soon. A large Spanish force was advancing from Peru against Santiago, their formidable fleet were masters of the sea, and they were fitting out a naval expedition for an attack on Valparaiso. The Chilian admiral, Blanco Encalada, had succeeded in capturing a Spanish fifty-gun frigate, which had been renamed the O'Higgins; but this was only a temporary success; and with his undisciplined and badly-equipped fleet he was quite unable to withstand the threatened attack of the Spaniards. Lord Cochrane had to encounter troubles from the outset. Among the Chilian fleet was the Hecate, an eighteen-gun sloop that had been sold out of the British navy, and purchased by two men, Captains Guise and Spry, as a speculation. They at first attempted to sell her at Buenos Ayres, but, failing to do so, had brought her on to Chili, where the government had bought the ship, and had appointed them to command her. They, and an American captain named Worcester, had obtained a considerable influence over Admiral Encalada, and seeing that this influence would be shaken by Lord Cochrane's ascendency, they formed an intrigue to persuade the Chilian admiral to insist upon retaining the chief command, or upon dividing it with Lord Cochrane.

Admiral Encalada, however, refused to allow himself to be made their tool, saying that he would wish for no greater honour than that of serving under so distinguished an officer as Lord Cochrane; for a time, therefore, their intrigue was defeated. No sooner had he hoisted his flag on board the O'Higgins than Lord Cochrane set to work with his usual energy to complete the outfit of his little fleet. This consisted, in addition to the O'Higgins, of the San Martin and Lautaro—both of which had been East Indiamen: the former carried 56 guns, the latter 44—the Hecate, now called the Galvarino, of 18 guns; the Chacabuco, of 20; the Aracano, of 16; the Puyrredon, of 14. The Spanish fleet consisted of three frigates: the Esmeralda, of 44 guns; the Bengenza, of 42; and the Sebastian, of 28; and four brigs: one of 22 guns, and three of 18. There was also a schooner carrying one heavy gun and 20 small ones; the rest were armed merchantmen: the Resolution, of 36 guns; the Cleopatra, of 28; the Fernando, of 26; the La Focha, of 20; and the Guarmey and San Antonio, of 18 each.

On the 16th of January, leaving Admiral Blanco to complete the equipment of the Galvarino, the Aracano, and the Puyrredon, Lord Cochrane sailed with the O'Higgins, San Martin, Lautaro, and Chacabuco. From the day the admiral's flag was hoisted to that upon which he sailed, Stephen's life had undergone a sudden and complete change. From morning until night he was engaged in rowing from the flagship to the other vessels, and in carrying orders, ascertaining how certain portions of the work were getting on, and reporting to the admiral, or going on shore to the dockyard with urgent requisitions for stores required. Lord Cochrane himself was equally busy. He went from ship to ship, and stood by the captains while the crews were put through their exercises in making and shortening sails, practising the drill and cutlass exercise on the deck, or working the guns. Hard as was the work imposed upon them by the constant drills, the enthusiasm and energy of the admiral so communicated itself to most of the officers and seamen that astonishing progress was made in the four weeks that elapsed before sailing. Though it could hardly be said that the smartness of the crews equalled that which would be shown by British men-of-war's men, the work was very fairly done, and the admiral felt convinced that his ships would be worked and manoeuvred far more rapidly than those of the Spaniards.

Stephen had from the first messed with the ship's officers. Lord Cochrane had said to him on the day when he hoisted his flag: "As my flag-midshipman, Mr. Embleton, I could very well have you, as well as my flag lieutenant, at my table, but I think that it would be better for you to mess with the officers. I find that in the Chilian service the midshipmen do not mess by themselves, as is the case with us, but have a common mess with the lieutenants. There are certainly considerable advantages in this arrangement; though it might not work well in our navy, where boys are much more mischievous and given to pranks than are those of southern people. They do not enter so young into the service, and the six midshipmen on board are none of them younger than yourself. They are all members of good old families here, and there is therefore no need for so strict a line of distinction between midshipmen and lieutenants as there is with us. The system is more like that which prevails in our army, where the youngest ensigns associate when off duty on terms of equality with their elders. Mingling with them you will acquire the language far more rapidly than you would do were you to take your meals at my table. Moreover, I think that it will be a more pleasant and natural life for you, while it will avoid any appearance of favouritism and be altogether better."

Stephen bowed. Fond as he was of the admiral, he felt himself that it would be more pleasant to associate with lads of his own age, than to be always on his best behaviour. He already knew all the officers, having met them at the various entertainments at Valparaiso. He had found them pleasant young fellows, though their airs of manliness and gravity had amused him a good deal, but he wished that he had in addition his old friend Joyce, with whom he could occasionally skylark, quarrel, and make it up again, after the manner of boys. The wardroom was large and airy, and there was ample space for the party. At meals they consisted of the three lieutenants, the surgeon, purser, and seven midshipmen. As he had never been accustomed to a rough life in the cock-pit of a British man-of-war, the contrast to his former condition was not so strong as it would have been to a midshipman in the royal service; but the somewhat stiff courtesy that prevailed among the Chilian officers in their relations to each other differed widely from the frank heartiness at Captain Pinder's table. When the meals were over, however, the air of restraint softened a little, and Stephen soon became on intimate terms with the other midshipmen, three or four of whom had never been to sea before.

"Is this like life on board your ships?" one of them asked him a few days after he had joined.

"Not a bit, Don Enriques. To begin with, the midshipmen never dine with the lieutenants, and they don't live half as well as we do. In the next place, you are a great deal more serious, and a great deal more dignified that English midshipmen are. With us they are always playing tricks with each other. We may be officers on board the ship, but when we are among ourselves we are just like other boys of the same age."

"But you do not consider yourself a boy, Don Estevan?"

"I do indeed," Stephen laughed; "and no one thinks himself a man until he is quite a senior midshipman."

"But if you play tricks on each other you must quarrel sometimes?"

"Oh, yes, we quarrel, and then we have a fight, and then we are good friends again."

"Ah! Do you fight with swords or pistols?"

Stephen laughed. "We fight with our fists."

"What, like common people!" the young Chilian said, greatly shocked.

"Just the same, except that we fight a little better. That is the way we always settle quarrels among boys in England, and a very good way it is. One gets a black eye or something of that sort, and there is an end of it. As for fighting with swords or pistols, I do not know what would happen if two midshipmen were to fight a duel. In the first place they would get into a frightful row, and in the second place they would be the laughing-stock of the whole fleet. Of course, in a country like this, where a blow is considered as the deadliest of insults, things are different; but in England it is not viewed in the same light. Everyone knows something of boxing, that is, of the proper way of using the fists, and it has come to be the national way of fighting among the common people and among boys of all classes."

"And would you, for example, Don Estevan, consent to fight with a boy or with a man of the peasant class if he injured you?"

"Certainly I would," Stephen said. "I don't know that I would fight a big man, because evidently I should have very little chance with him; but if I quarrelled with a fellow my own age, we should of course pitch into each other without any question of rank."

Exclamations of surprise broke from the other midshipmen as Stephen made these statements in very broken Spanish. He was questioned over and over again by them to make sure that they had not misunderstood him.

"You seem to think it terrible," Stephen said; "but you don't stand on rank yourselves when you fight. When you board an enemy's ship you fight with a sailor who attacks you, and don't stop to discuss with him whether he is one of gentle blood, like yourself, or a mere peasant. For the time being you put yourself on an equality with him, and it is a pure matter of strength and skill. It is just the same with us in most matters. We stand on our rank the same as you do, but when our blood is up we put all that aside and fight without caring whether our opponent is a nobleman or a peasant, and when it is all over we shake hands and don't feel that there is any bad blood between us."



CHAPTER X.

WRECKED.

On the fifth morning when the ships got up anchor there were no signs of movement on board the Chacabuco, nor was any attention paid to the admiral's signals.

"Mr. Embleton, take one of the gigs, row on board, and report what is the matter there."

Stephen did so. The approach of the boat was apparently unobserved, and the companion-ladder was not lowered. He therefore ordered the men to cease rowing; presently an officer appeared at the side.

"The admiral wishes to know what is the matter, and why you do not obey his signals," Stephen said sharply, standing up in the stern-sheets.

"The crew are in a state of mutiny," the officer said, "and they refuse to get up the anchor."

Stephen returned with the message. The admiral at once gave orders for the frigate to bear down on the Chacabuco, and the crew were mustered at quarters. When she came within a cable's length of the Chacabuco the frigate was thrown up into the wind, and the admiral shouted: "Unless the anchor is a-peak in five minutes we will blow you out of the water."

There was no mistaking the earnestness of the tone, and many of the men sprang at once to the capstan bars, and the anchor was soon out of the water. "Make sail," Lord Cochrane again ordered, "and keep along close beside us."

A few minutes later the fleet were all under sail, and that afternoon entered the port of Coquimbo. As soon as the anchors were let go the admiral's gig was lowered, and he went on board the Chacabuco.

"What is all this about?" he asked the captain, who received him at the gangway.

"The men say that they are overworked, your excellency; that they are kept hard at it all day making and taking off sail, and that they want to leave the ship."

"Muster the crew, sir," Lord Cochrane said briefly. The crew silently assembled. The port-holes of the O'Higgins were all opened, and the men could be seen standing at the guns.

"Now, men," Lord Cochrane said, "I give you five minutes to pick out the twelve men who have been the ringleaders in this mutiny. You will iron them and bring them on board the flag-ship, where they will be tried and punished for their offence. What! is there a ship's crew of Chilians so regardless of their duty, so careless of the honour of their country, that they are ready to disgrace themselves by turning into a pack of mutineers, merely because they are required to do extra work to fit them for fighting the enemies of their country? I am willing to believe that you have suffered yourselves to be misled, and that you did not understand the magnitude of the crime that you were committing. There, six bells are striking. You have five minutes to put your ringleaders into a boat. See that you do not exceed that time, for as soon as my watch tells me that five minutes have gone, I give the order to fire. One broadside will be sufficient to send the Chacabuco to the bottom. Gentlemen," he said, turning to the officers, "at the end of the five minutes, if my orders have not been carried out, you will take to the boats and leave the ship, and as soon as you have done so we shall open fire."

He then turned on his heel, went down the ladder, and rowed back to his ship. As he left he saw there was a great uproar on board the Chacabuco as the sailors disputed among themselves who had been their leaders in the matter. Two boats were lowered at once, and just before the expiration of the given time twelve men were put on board them ironed, and were then rowed to the flag-ship. A signal was made for the first lieutenant of each of the other ships of the squadron to come on board, and a court-martial was at once held upon the mutineers. The man who was shown to have been at the bottom of the whole affair, was sentenced to be hung, and the rest to terms of imprisonment. The admiral remitted the death sentence and changed it to ten years in jail, and the culprit and the other prisoners were taken on shore and handed over to the civil authorities. Having thus given a wholesome lesson, Lord Cochrane proceeded northward to Callao Bay, where he intended to attack a considerable naval force gathered there.

They were protected by the batteries of Callao and of San Lorenzo, a little island in the bay, mounting in all one hundred and sixty guns, in addition to those on board the Spanish war-ships, which consisted of a few frigates, two brigs, and eight gun-boats. To attack such a force lying under the guns of their batteries was too perilous an enterprise for even Cochrane to undertake. He determined, however, to make an attempt to do them at least some damage. He knew that two American men-of-war were expected to arrive in Callao, and he made some slight changes in his flag-ship and the Lautaro, hoisted the American flag, and sailed toward the harbour. The Carnival was at the time being carried on, and there was the less chance that a vigilant watch would be kept up by the forts and ships. Unfortunately a dense fog came on, and for eight days the Chilians were forced to remain inactive. At the end of that time, hearing a heavy firing, and believing that one of his ships must have gone into the bay and had been attacked by the enemy, Cochrane stood in the direction of the sound. The other ships did the same, when the fog clearing up in a moment, they discovered each other, and found a small gunboat lying close to them.

This they captured at once, and learned that the firing was a salute in honour of the viceroy, who had been paying a visit to the batteries, and was now returning to the town in a brig-of-war which was crowding all sail. The fog again closed in, and hoping the capture of the gun-boat had not been noticed, Lord Cochrane determined to risk a partial engagement rather than withdraw without firing a shot, as a retreat now would raise the spirits of the Spaniards and depress those of the Chilians. Accordingly the O'Higgins and the Lautaro stood on, each having a boat ahead sounding. The wind fell very light, and instead of going in and engaging the Spanish ships as he intended, Lord Cochrane was forced to anchor at some distance from them. The moment that the two Chilian vessels were made out through the fog the ships and batteries opened fire upon them, showing that the capture of the gun-boat had been observed and the sailors and garrison called to the guns.

For two hours the ships were exposed to a heavy fire from the batteries and ships. They replied steadily, their aim being chiefly directed against the northern angle of one of the principal forts, whose fire especially annoyed them. As soon as a little breeze sprang up, anchors were weighed, and the two ships sailed to and fro in front of the batteries returning their fire, until Captain Guise, who commanded the Lautaro, was severely wounded, and his ship at once retired from action. Neither of the other Chilian vessels ventured within range from first to last. The flag-ship being thus left alone exposed to the whole fire of the enemy, Lord Cochrane was ultimately obliged to relinquish the attack. He retired to an island three miles distant from the port, and for five weeks blockaded Callao.

"This is dull work, Mr. Embleton," the admiral said one day, as he paced up and down the quarter-deck. "What can one do with four badly-equipped ships, one of which has lost its commander, who though not friendly to me was at least an officer of courage, the other two commanded by men who are afraid to bring their ships within range of the enemy's guns, and all badly manned, badly provisioned, and by no means in fighting trim. If the Spaniards would but sail out to engage us, we might do something, but they have dismantled their frigates, and nothing will tempt the gun-boats to move out from the forts. The only consolation is that the spectacle of our blockading the place successfully cannot but rouse the spirit of the Chilians, and induce them, I hope, to make an effort to put a force on the sea capable of completely crippling the Spaniards."

At the end of five weeks the little fleet proceeded to Huacho, a short distance north of Callao. The bulk of its inhabitants were secretly in sympathy with the Chilians, and the Spanish garrison evacuated the place and fled almost immediately the ships opened fire. The order was given for boats to be lowered, and Lord Cochrane himself landed to see that there was no scramble for the property of the government. Of this a large quantity was found in the stores, together with a considerable amount of money, which was of even more importance to the Chilians, whose treasury was empty, and who were crippled in all their operations by want of specie. During April and May Lord Cochrane cruised up and down the Peruvian coast. Several landings were effected, and valuable captures made of money and stores.

The property of the Peruvians was always respected, and the admiral spared no pains to convince the inhabitants that the Chilians were their friends and were hostile only to the Spaniards their oppressors. Several ships laden with stores for the Spanish troops also fell into their hands. Towards the end of the cruise a sail was observed at some distance in the offing. As, at the moment, the boats were about to effect a landing to capture a fort from which the Spaniards had been driven by the fire of the ships, the admiral turned to Stephen and said:

"Mr. Embleton, please to take command of the second cutter. She is a fast sailer, and I have no doubt that you can overhaul that brig in a couple of hours. The boat's crew are already on board and armed, but I don't suppose you will meet with any resistance. When you have boarded her you will take command of her and navigate her to Valparaiso. I shall be returning there in the course of two or three days."

Stephen touched his hat and ran below. He was delighted at the prospect of his first command, though it was not a very important one. He had brought the best of his chronometers with him, and snatching up this, his quadrant, and a pocket compass, he at once descended the ladder to the boat, which had been hailed by the admiral and ordered to lie there, the petty officer who commanded being transferred to another boat. The crew consisted of twelve men. As the breeze was off shore Stephen ordered the masts to be stepped at once, and the two lug-sails hoisted. The crew were glad to escape the labour of carrying down stores from the fort and transporting them to the ship, and sat down contentedly in the bottom of the boat, while Stephen himself took the tiller. The brig was hull-down when seen from the boat, and Stephen calculated that she was six or seven miles out. She was steering south and had evidently less wind than that which was taking the cutter fast through the water. He made his course to a point some four miles south of the brig, so as to cut her off, and it was not long before it was evident to him that he should succeed in doing so.

They were within two miles of the ship when he saw the sailors talking earnestly together and looking towards the shore. Glancing round he saw that the tops of the hills were enveloped in clouds, a sign, as experience had already taught him, of the approach of a gale. The brig, which had evidently not noticed the boat, had also observed the threatening aspect of the clouds, and as Stephen again looked ahead, began to shorten sail.

"Had we not better return?" one of the Chilians asked.

"Certainly not," Stephen said. "The wind is against us, and the storm will burst before we could get back, so that we should be much better off in that brig than we should be in this open boat. Get out oars, men, and help her along. The wind is freshening already. If it rises much more the brig will run away from us."

The wind indeed got up rapidly, and the oars had to be laid in while the cutter was still a mile off from the brig. She had evidently been observed, and an attempt was being made to hoist some of the upper sails that had been lowered; but the boat was now flying through the water, and in a quarter of an hour ran up on the leeward side of the brig. The sails were dropped, the bow man caught hold of the chains with his boat-hook, and Stephen and the rest of the crew at once scrambled on board cutlass in hand.

There was, however, no resistance. The crew of the brig were as numerous as the boarders, but the successes of the Chilians had created such an effect that the captain cried out, as they leaped on board, that they surrendered. Stephen's first order was to get the cutter up, and tackles were soon hooked on to her, and she was raised from the water and laid bottom upwards on deck. While this was being done the Peruvian crew were ordered to shorten sail.

It was none too soon, for the brig was heeling far over, and the wind momentarily increasing in strength. The Chilians gave a cheer as soon as the boat was safely on board, and in a very short time the sail was reduced to double-reefed top-sails. Under these and a storm-jib she was laid head to wind. The sky was now entirely obscured, the land was no longer visible, and the sea was beginning to rise.

"Is it going to be a heavy gale, do you think?" Stephen asked the Peruvian captain.

"Very heavy, I think. I have seen it coming on since daybreak, but I hoped to get to Callao before it burst. We are heavily laden, and in no state for facing a great gale."

"What have you on board?"

"Military stores and ammunition."

"Any money?"

"I believe so, senor. There are twenty boxes sealed up in the lazarette."

"Now, tell me what you would have done if we had not captured you? You know your ship better than I do. Would you lie-to or let her run?"

"I should put her before the wind, senor, and at once; it will be dangerous to do so when the sea gets up."

"Well, put two of your best men at the helm, captain, and give them the necessary orders. I know what ought to be done, but I do not know enough of your language to make sure that I shall not make a mistake. Man the braces, all hands," he shouted. "Now, obey the captain's orders as if they were mine."

The manoeuvre was safely executed, and the brig brought before the wind. She felt the relief at once, and sped rapidly before the storm on an even keel.

"How far will this gale extend beyond the coast?"

"There is no saying, senor. An ordinary gale will seldom be felt above a hundred or a hundred and fifty miles; but a big one, as this will I think be, may take us a thousand miles before we can get on our course again."

"Are there any dangers to be feared?"

"If we go far enough we may get among some islands; but on the course that we are steering we shall run some hundreds of miles before we reach them."

"You have got a chart, I suppose?"

"I have a chart of the coast, senor, but nothing beyond. We only do a coasting trade."

"Then the look-out is a bad one if the wind holds like this," Stephen said. "However, there is nothing to do now."

The gale continued to increase in violence, and in a couple of hours Stephen ordered the main topsail to be lowered on to the cap and there secured. It was a dangerous service, and was undertaken by the Chilians, who are far more handy sailors than the Peruvians. Stephen felt grateful when the last of them stepped on to the deck again. Small as was the amount of sail that was now spread, the brig flew before the wind with alarming rapidity, the sea seeming to stand up on each side of her. The foremast bent so much under the pressure that Stephen had to order preventer-stays to be rove. These were with great difficulty and risk fastened above the hounds and taken well aft, where they were tightened by tackles, and the strain on the mast considerably relieved.

"I wish we could get down that upper spar," he shouted to the captain; "its pressure helps to keep her head down."

After watching it for some minutes he ordered the stays and runners to be cut, at the same time calling all hands aft. Scarcely had the men gathered there than the vessel plunged her head into the sea. There was a loud report, and the top-gallant mast fell over her bows with a crash. Two of the Chilians with axes crawled out along the bowsprit and cut away the gear that held the spar alongside, and the wreckage at once floated away. The jib-boom was then got in, and the vessel felt the relief and lifted her head more buoyantly over the seas. For four days the gale continued, her bulwarks were carried away, and the waves swept her decks continually. One tremendous roller carried away the boats, the caboose, and all the deck fittings, together with four of the Chilians and six of the Peruvian sailors. The straining had opened her seams, and although the pumps had been kept going as long as the crew had been able to work at them, the water had been gaining steadily, and even the Chilians, who had kept on doggedly long after the Peruvians had thrown themselves down exhausted and hopeless, now ceased what was evidently a useless labour.

The mainmast had been cut away, and was towed by a long hawser from the stern, thereby aiding to keep the vessel dead before the wind. Stephen felt that there was nothing to be done but to wait for the end. There were no materials for making a raft, and indeed the constant wash of the seas would have rendered the task an almost impossible one, even had there been spars at hand; but a raft, could one have been manufactured, would have prolonged life but for a few hours. They were now, he calculated, fully a thousand miles from the land, and there was no chance whatever of any vessel coming across them in these unfrequented seas. From the time the gale burst upon them he had but twice thrown himself down for a short sleep, and had eaten no food save a dry biscuit or two. The Peruvian captain agreed with him that the vessel would float but a few hours longer. She rose but sluggishly upon the seas, and several times she had plunged her head so deeply into them that Stephen thought that she was going to dive bodily down.

Night fell. He and the captain lay down on two of the sofas aft, while the crew were all in the forecastle. None expected to see the morning light; but Stephen left the door open, saying to the captain:

"It will make no difference; but I should rather make a struggle for my life before I die, than be drowned like a rat in a hole."

The Peruvian, who had shown much cool courage during the storm, shrugged his shoulders.

"It makes no difference," he said, as he rolled a cigarette and lighted it; "we have done all that we could. As for me, I would as lief be drowned here as outside. But I don't think that there will be much choice; we shall have no warning when she goes; she will plunge down head-foremost."

Stephen was too worn-out to reply, but he felt that what the captain said was true. But even the thought that when he woke it would be but for a short struggle for life was insufficient to keep him awake, and in a minute or two he dropped off to sleep. How long he slept he could not tell; he was awakened suddenly by a tremendous crash that threw him on to the floor. He struggled to his feet and rushed out almost instinctively, in obedience to his train of thought before sleeping. As he issued out of the poop a wave poured down from above, and for a moment he shrunk back. He was conscious that the ship was fast. There was no longer any movement; but the sea struck against the stern with a force that made the vessel quiver. As to going forward it was out of the question, for each wave swept right over her. The Peruvian had joined him at the door.

"Our voyage has ended, senor."

"Yes, as far as the ship is concerned; but if she holds together until morning there will be a chance of getting ashore."

As he spoke a great wave struck the vessel. She rose on it, moved a few yards further forward, and then fell again with a crash that threw them both off their feet.



"There is not much chance of that," the Peruvian said as he rose again, taking up the conversation at the point at which it had been broken; "an hour or two will see the end of her, perhaps even less."

"It felt to me as if she struck all over," Stephen said, "and I should think she is on a flat ledge of rock. I don't think that the wind is blowing as hard as it was when we lay down. There are some stars shining. At any rate we may as well go in again and wait. We should only be swept overboard if we tried to go forward."

He turned to re-enter the cabin, but was nearly carried off his feet by a torrent of water that swept along the passage.

"That last wave has smashed her stern in," he said to the Peruvian; "we must stand outside."

They seated themselves on the deck, with their backs to the poop. The cataract of water which from time to time swept over them from above, fell beyond them and rushed forward.

"Her head is lower than her stern," the Peruvian remarked. "I begin to think she may hold together until morning; she has not lifted again."

It seemed, indeed, as if the storm had made its last effort in the great surge that had shifted the vessel forward. For although the waves still struck her with tremendous force, and they could hear an occasional rending and splintering of the timbers astern, she no longer moved, although she quivered from end to end under each blow, and worked as if at any moment she would break into fragments.

"The foremast has gone," Stephen said presently. "I suppose it went over her bows when she struck. I am afraid none of the men have escaped. I can't make out the head of the vessel at all."

"They may have been washed ashore; but it is probable that the fall of the mast imprisoned them," the captain said; "and as the stern is raised a good many feet, they must have been drowned at once. Poor fellows, there were some good men among them."

"I wish we had had them all aft," Steve exclaimed in a tone of deep regret. "Of course, we never thought of this; and indeed there was but small room for them in your little cabin. It seemed that death would come to us all together, and that their chances in the fo'c's'le were as hopeless as ours in the stern cabin."

"It is the will of God," the Peruvian said philosophically; "and it is probable their turn has come only a few hours before ours."

They sat silently for a long time. At last Stephen said: "The sea is certainly going down, and I can make out the outlines of the land. I think day will soon be breaking. We must have slept a good many hours before she struck."

He took out his watch, but it was too dark to see the face. He opened the case and felt the position of the hands: "It is half-past three," he said. "In another half-hour we shall have light enough to see where we are."

Gradually the dawn spread over the sky, and they could make out that the shore was some three hundred yards away, and that trees came down almost to the water's edge. They lay at the mouth of a small bay. As the captain had supposed, the ship's bows were under water, and only a few inches of the top-gallant fo'c's'le were to be seen. Another half-hour and the sun was up. Long before this Stephen had explored the wreck astern. Several feet had been torn off, and the water flowed freely in and out of the cabin. It was evident that the ship had been carried on the crest of the great wave beyond the highest point of the reef across the mouth of the bay, and to this fact she in some degree owed her preservation, as the waves broke some twenty yards astern of her, and so spent a considerable portion of their force before they struck her. Looking astern, the sea was still extremely heavy, but it no longer presented the angry appearance it had done on the previous day. The wind had almost dropped, the waves were no longer crested with white foam.

"In an hour or two we shall be able to get ashore," Stephen said. "We have been saved well-nigh by a miracle, captain."

"Saved so far," the captain said; "but we cannot say yet what is in store, for us. These islands are, for the most part, inhabited by savage natives, who will make short work of us if we fall into their hands."

"Well, we must hope for the best," Stephen said. "We have been preserved so far, and we may trust we shall be preserved through other dangers. As soon as the sea goes down we must haul the foremast alongside, cut away the ropes, and drift ashore on it. It would be no great distance to swim now, but there is no hurry, and we had best find out whether we cannot get hold of some provisions. I see there are some boxes and casks on the shore, I suppose they have been washed out of the stern. One of the first things will be to get some arms."

"There are several cases of muskets down in the hold," the captain said, "and a large quantity of ammunition, but it will be a difficult business to get at it."

"We shall have plenty of time," Stephen said, "that is, if the natives do not interfere with us. However, the first thing is to find something to eat, for I am half famished."

"I have no doubt we shall find something in the steward's cabin," the captain said. "Fortunately it is the first inside the door, and has not shared the fate of the stern cabin. If Jacopo had slept there last night, instead of going forward with the crew, he would have been saved also."

They opened the door of the cabin, and uttered an exclamation of surprise as they saw the steward quietly asleep in his bunk.

"Why, Jacopo, you lazy rascal," the captain shouted, "I have just been mourning for you, and here you are, sleeping as quietly as if you were safe in port."

The man sat up with an air of bewilderment. "Why, what has happened, captain?" he asked. "The sun is shining, and there is no motion. I did not think to see the morning."

"Oh, you rascal!" the captain said, pointing to an empty bottle lying in the bunk, "you thought that it was all over, and so you emptied one of my bottles of aguardiente, and have slept like a hog all night."

"Pardon me, captain," the man said, with a shamefaced expression; "everyone said that the ship could not live until morning, so I thought I would take a good drink so as to know nothing about it."

"And you did not feel even the crash when we were wrecked?"

"Wrecked!" the man repeated, as he ran to the door; "are we wrecked after all?" He uttered a cry of horror as he looked round.

"It might have been worse," the captain said; "at least we three have been saved, though, in your case, you are far from deserving it. Now, look about and do your duty. We want breakfast; see you get it, and quickly, and I will say nothing more about that bottle of spirits you stole. Now, what have you got here?"

"Two fine hams, captain, and some bunches of onions, and half a barrel of flour, and some salt beef and a skin of wine."

"Not so bad," the captain said. "Well, make a fire and do us some slices of ham; are there any biscuits left?"

"Yes, captain, there is half a barrel."

"Then we will make shift with a biscuit and the ham; but see that you are quick about it, for this English officer and I are both famished."

"Where am I to make a fire, captain? the caboose is gone."

"Never mind about that; the iron plate is still fixed to the deck, make up your fire on that. Look about in the other cabins and break up anything that will supply you with wood. Now, senor, we will get off the after hatch while this rascal is cooking breakfast, and have a look at the state of things below."

"I am afraid we shall find most of the cargo cleared out," Stephen said.

"No, I do not think so. There is a strong bulkhead just below where we are standing. The things you see on shore were in the small hold under the cabin that was used for the ship's stores, while the main contains the cargo. We got at the lazarette from a hatch under the table of the cabin. It was not convenient, but it was an advantage having a separate place when we were loaded up with hides, and there was no fear of the sailors getting at the things. We did not carry a great store—five or six barrels of flour, a few sacks of potatoes and onions, a barrel or two of biscuits, and a couple of casks of salted meat, a barrel of coffee and one of sugar."

"Well, then, in that case the sea has saved us the trouble of getting them on shore, captain, for there are at least a dozen casks of one kind or another on the beach. Now, really the principal things are the arms. If we get up a case of a dozen muskets and a barrel of ammunition we shall do. Of course, they will be at the bottom."

"Yes, above them are bales of soldiers' clothes. They will be too heavy for us to lift out. They were heavy enough when they were dry, and the three of us could not lift them out, sodden as they must be with water."

"Then we must get up a sort of derrick. There are plenty of blocks and ropes on that foremast. The difficulty will be about light spars. We shall have to go ashore and cut down two or three young trees to make our tripod with.

"I think, captain, we had better make up our minds to live on board until we have got this job done. There is less fear of our being attacked by natives, and we could do nothing in the way of searching for game until we get something to shoot it with. We must make a raft of some sort for coming backwards and forwards with. There are plenty of bits of timber on the beach that will do for that."

Breakfast was greatly enjoyed, and it was not until an hour afterwards that the sea was sufficiently smooth for them to begin their preparations for landing. The foremast was dragged alongside, the shrouds cut away, and the running rigging unrove and coiled on deck ready for future use. A couple of coils were fastened to the mast, and late in the afternoon the captain and Stephen swam ashore, taking with them the end of one of the coils, while Jacopo remained on board to pay out the other, so that until the main raft was made the mast could be towed backwards and forwards. As soon as they were on shore they hauled at their rope and brought the mast to the beach. Then they set to work examining the casks. As the captain had predicted, most of the contents of the lazarette had been cast up, and they found that they had an ample supply of food to last them for some months. The mast had towed so easily that they agreed that it would be the best way to use it as the main portion of their raft. They dragged pieces of timber close to the mast and lashed them side by side there, so as to form a platform some three feet wide on each side of it, the length varying from four to twelve feet, according to that of the pieces of timber.

Having accomplished this, after two or three hours' hard work, they took their places on it, and shouted to Jacopo, who hauled them back to the side of the wreck. They had fastened one end of the other rope to a tree, and at daylight next morning they again landed, and proceeded with their knives to cut down three young trees of some four inches in diameter. This took them the best part of the day. The heads were then cut off leaving three stout poles of some fourteen feet in length, and with these they returned to the ship, taking with them a bag of coffee-berries and a supply of sugar. They had found on breaking open the cask that the sugar was somewhat damaged by the sea-water, but this had not penetrated far, and by drying and repounding that touched by the water, no great harm would have been done. The next morning the shears were erected, and they set to work. It took them two days' labour before they could clear enough of the cargo out to get at the cases. They were not troubled much by water, for at the stern-post there was but a depth of four feet on the reef, while at her bows there was nearly twenty. Working as they did at the after hatchway, there were but five feet of water below, and the uppermost tier of cases was consequently above the water-level. The barrels of cartridges were still further on, and it was the fourth day before they were reached.

Three of these barrels were got up, and when two cases of muskets had been opened, the weapons cleaned, and made ready for service, they felt a sense of security to which they had been strangers since they arrived at the island. There was now an urgent matter to be attended to. Hitherto they had drunk wine at their meals, but the contents of the skins were getting very low, and it had become absolutely necessary that they should without delay search for water. As there were hills of some size in the interior, they felt confident that there must be plenty to be found. The great point was whether it would be in the neighbourhood, or at a distance from the ship. This was a vital question, for useful as their raft was for coming and going between the wreck and the shore, it was far too heavy and clumsy for transporting their valuables any distance; and without hatchets or carpenters' tools they could not construct a raft by breaking up the deck, and the cutting down of trees with their pocket-knives was not to be thought of.

Accordingly the three set out on foot one morning, each carrying a musket and a store of ammunition, a portion of cooked ham, and some biscuits, together with a bottle containing the last of their stock of wine. When they rounded the point of the little bay they gave a shout of satisfaction, for but fifty yards away a small stream flowed from the forest across the sand into the sea.

"What a pity we did not search for this before," Stephen said, as throwing themselves down each scooped a hole in the sand, and took a long drink of the fresh water. "We could have saved our wine for some special occasion."

They agreed at once to follow the stream up, as by this means they would leave no trace of footmarks, and might be able to find some suitable spot for an encampment.



CHAPTER XI.

A DANGEROUS COMPANION.

They had gone but a few hundred yards up the stream when they heard the sound of a waterfall, and presently they came upon a perpendicular cliff some eighty feet high, over the edge of which the water fell unbrokenly.

"It would be a splendid place to camp at the edge of this pool," the captain said. "We should have our bath always ready at hand, and even on the hottest days it would be cool in the shade of the trees."

"It would not be a nice place to be caught by the natives," Stephen said. "Even if we fortified ourselves, they would only have to get up above and throw rocks down at us."

The Peruvian regarded this risk as trifling in comparison with the advantages of the situation. Stephen, however, determined to climb to the top of the cliff, and examine the position there, so leaving the others lying in indolent enjoyment by the pool, he set to work to find a way up. He had to go fully a quarter of a mile along the foot of the cliff before he could find a place where it could be ascended. Once on the crest, he followed the edge back until he came to the top of the waterfall. To his surprise he found that this flowed almost directly from a little lake of some three hundred yards in diameter. For about fifteen yards from the fall on either side the rock was bare; and although the level of the little lake was some three feet below it, Stephen had no doubt that in the case of a heavy tropical rain the water would rush down from the hills faster than the gap through which it fell below could carry it off, and that at such a time it would sweep over the rock on either side, and fall in a torrent thirty yards wide down in to the pool.

The view, as he stood on the patch of bare rock, was a striking one. The tree-tops of the forest between the cliff and the shore were almost level with his feet, some of the taller trees indeed rising considerably higher than the ground on which he stood. Beyond, a wide semicircle of sea extended, broken by several islands, some small, others of considerable size. Behind him the ground rose, in an apparently unbroken ascent, to a hill, which he judged to be some three or four miles away.

"This would be a grand place for a hut," he said to himself. "Of course we could not put it on the rock, for we might be swept away by a sudden flood, and besides there would be no shade. But just inside the edge of trees we should do splendidly."

He found, in fact, that at a distance of twenty yards from the edge of the bare rock it was but the same distance from the edge of the pool to the brow of the cliff.

"We could only be attacked on one side here," he said. "And though we could not cut down the trees, we might make a defence with creepers twined in and out among the trunks that would be quite sufficient against a sudden attack; and with such a store of muskets as we have got we might keep a whole tribe at bay. The question is how to get the casks and things up here."

Going to the edge he found that one of the trees had a large arm overhanging the cliff.

"By fixing a block there," he said, "we might bring them up from below without difficulty."

Looking over, he shouted to the two men below.

"I have found a place here," he said, "where we can make ourselves very comfortable, and with a little labour defend ourselves from any number of savages."

"How can we get the things up?" the captain shouted back.

"Easily enough. We have but to fix a block to the arm of this tree over my head, and we can then run them up without difficulty. Come up, captain. You will see at once the advantages of the position."

In a quarter of an hour the Peruvian captain joined him, and, when Stephen explained his plan, agreed that it was a good one.

"As you say," he said, "we can only be attacked along this narrow place, and we could strengthen it so that they would hardly venture to try it." He broke off suddenly. "There are two cases of swords in the hold. I never thought of them before. They might not be much good for cutting trees, but they would do for chopping down bushes, and especially those long creepers, which, being as tough as cables, would blunt our knives in no time. If I remember rightly, the cases were stowed just under the barrels of ammunition we got out, so there won't be much trouble in getting at them."

"That would be first-rate," Stephen said. "As there is nothing to do now, we had better go back to the ship, and get one of the cases out at once. When we have done that we can begin the work of rolling the barrels along the sand to the stream."

"It will be terrible work getting them to the foot of the cliff," the captain said.

"Yes, too heavy altogether. We must knock the heads in on the shore, fill the contents into the sacking that holds the clothes, carry them on our backs to the foot of the falls, and then sling them up. There are any number of bales, so that they can remain up here until we get the empty barrels up, and fill in the stuff again. It will be time enough to set to work at our fence when we have got everything up."

A week later they were established in their new camp. The sugar, coffee, and other articles were all repacked in the casks, which were headed up again to protect them from the weather and the assaults of insects, portions sufficient for a week's consumption only being left out. The labour had been great, but the Peruvian captain seconded Stephen's efforts well. The steward, however, grumbled frequently, and had many times to be spoken to sharply by the captain. Another week was spent in fortifying the position. Young trees were cut down and stuck in the earth two feet apart in the intervals between the trees. A wattle-work of the tough thorny creepers was interwoven across the little promontory, eight feet high. This was painful work, for, however careful they were, they frequently tore their hands with the spikes.

When this was done a similar defence was made along at the edge of the water to within a short distance of the falls. This was carried to the height of five feet only. A tent had been erected with canvas brought from the wreck, thrown over a pole, fixed between two trees, and in a smaller one by its side the barrels were stowed.

"Now, captain," Stephen said, as they spent a day in absolute rest after their labours, "there is one more thing to be done."

"What is that, senor?"

"It is that gold. You said there were five hundred thousand dollars, which comes to a hundred thousand pounds in our money. That, as we know, is lying safely in the stern, for we looked the day after the wreck. So long as it is there it is safe enough, but the next storm that comes will certainly smash up the wreck altogether, and the boxes may be swept into the deep water between her and the shore. Now at the present moment we may consider that gold to be common property. If a Spanish ship ever comes here she will, of course, capture it; if, on the other hand, an English or a Chilian vessel arrives, I shall hand it over to them as their lawful prize. If neither of them come, which is most likely by far, it is worth nothing to anyone. I think we ought to get it ashore, and bury it in the sand above high-water mark."

"I think that that would be a very good plan," the captain agreed. "We may manage in time to get away somehow, and even if we cannot take it all, we might take some of it. There will be no great trouble in getting it ashore. The boxes weigh a hundred pounds each. There are twenty of them, and the raft would take them in three or four journeys. If we make an early start, we ought to get the job done easily enough in a day. The gold is of no use to us now; but we may be here for years, and if it is long before we get away, the Spaniards may be driven out of Peru as they have been out of Chili. Your admiral will have gone home. There will be no one to claim the treasure; the Spanish government has lost it, the Chilian has never gained it, and it will be a sort of windfall that we can with a clear conscience divide between ourselves."

"If you don't mind, captain, I think that it would be a very good plan to say nothing whatever to Jacopo about this business of the gold. I own I don't like the fellow. In the first place, he is abominably lazy, and never does anything like his share of the work; in the second place, to my mind he is an evil-looking scoundrel. I don't want to deprive him of a share of the money if the time ever comes when we may talk of dividing it, but in the meantime there is no reason why he should know it has been moved. That day when we examined it and found it was safe, I noticed an evil look come into his eyes, and, unless I am greatly mistaken, the idea struck him that if he were to rid himself of us, he would be master of all that treasure. There will be no difficulty in carrying out the matter without his knowing it. When we were moving the stores he often remained behind under the pretence of cooking, and we have only to say that we are going to overhaul the cargo and see if we can find anything else that may be useful to us some day, and he will be glad enough to be left in charge here."

"I think that you are right," the captain agreed. "I have no reason to doubt Jacopo's honesty, still the thought of so much wealth, although it is of no more value here than so much sand, may excite his avarice. Many a man's throat has been cut in Peru for a score of dollars or less, and it is just as well not to put any temptation in the fellow's way. You and I at the present moment would exchange all that gold for a stout twenty-feet boat, well provisioned; but to him it would be simply wealth beyond his dreams, and it is just as well not to put any ideas into his mind by ever mentioning the stuff before him."

The gold was brought on shore and buried in the sand at the foot of a tall tree standing just beyond the highest watermark. The work took them two days, as some time was spent in making a further search in the cargo, from which was fished up a bale of linen trousers and coats, which formed the undress uniform during the heat of summer. Some shoes were also found, and Stephen and the captain returned to the fort, each laden with a large bundle. Stephen was especially glad at the discovery of the light clothes. Those in which he had started on the chase of the brig were so shrunk with sea water as to be almost unwearable, and he had been going about in Spanish uniform, which he found most uncomfortably hot. He was almost barefooted, and the shoes were even more highly prized than the light clothing. The captain had also lost all his effects, but Jacopo had saved his scanty wardrobe.

"We are now prepared for everything," Stephen said. "I don't think shipwrecked mariners were ever better set up. We have clothes sufficient for a lifetime, a great stock of weapons and ammunition, and provisions enough for a couple of months at least. The last is our weakest point, I admit. But there is the whole island as a hunting-ground. We must begin and set to work to explore, captain. The ham has gone long ago, and I have been longing for some time for a change from salt meat; besides, we want some fruit or vegetables badly. We have stuck to work well, and deserve a holiday. The first thing to do will be to climb to the top of the hill and get some idea of the size of the island. I begin to think that it cannot be inhabited, for if it had been they would surely have discovered the wreck before now."

"That is not certain," the captain replied. "It may be a large island, and the villages may lie on the other side. However, we have certainly grounds for hope that we have got it all to ourselves. One thing I am anxious to find is some sheltered spot or cave where we can pass the rainy season. The place where we now are is charming in such weather as this, that is for ten months in the year; but it is not a perch I should choose in such a gale as that which cast us ashore."

"No; it would certainly be unpleasant. I should not think there is much chance of our finding a cave except on the seashore caves are by no means common articles. However, we shall no doubt be able to light on some sheltered place where we can take up our abode during the rain. But, first of all, we must find out whether the island is really uninhabited; there will be all sorts of things to do as soon as we can assure ourselves of that.

"I should be rather glad of one good gale, captain—a gale strong enough to break up the vessel altogether. Of course, it has been a perfect treasure house to us, but I never go on board without a shudder at the thought of the fo'c's'le just below the level of the water."

"It is no more than standing at the edge of a graveyard," the captain said philosophically.

"Yes, that is true, and I know that even if we could have got at them the first day, taken them ashore and buried them, it would have been an unpleasant business."

"Very," the Peruvian agreed; "things have turned out for the best—they are buried at sea instead of being buried on land. For myself, my regret that the ship did not lie on an even keel was not because we could have got at the bodies and buried them, but because in there we should have found many things that would have been useful. We should probably have got an axe or two, some tools, canvas, needles, and twine, all of which would have been very valuable to us."

"Well, all the same, captain, I shall be glad when a gale knocks the ship to pieces. Besides, as long as she is there she would be seen at once by any canoe coming along on this side of the island, and on going on board the natives would see that some of the crew must have survived, and that things have been brought up and taken ashore; then there would be sure to be a search after us."

"Yes, you are right there, senor; I had not thought of that. No doubt it is desirable that she should disappear."

"Do you think that we could blow her up, captain? There is plenty of powder on board."

The Peruvian shook his head. "We could shatter her, but portions would still remain sticking up above water, and the explosion would be heard fifty miles round, and the cloud of smoke be seen from all the islands within that distance, and there would soon be canoes coming to see what had caused it. No; it will be best to let her remain as she is until she breaks up with the first gale."

The next morning they started, taking Jacopo with them. The captain proposed leaving him behind, but Stephen pointed out that if left alone for a long day the man might not improbably swim off to the ship to assure himself that the gold was still in its position.

"He might do that," the captain agreed; "but, like most of his class, he is superstitious, and I doubt whether he would go on board the wreck alone. Still, it will be better to take him with us. It is certain that there is no fear of our hut being disturbed during our absence, and if we should come upon natives three of us are better than two."

It took them four hours to reach the summit of the hill, the undergrowth of creepers being so dense that they were often compelled to cut a way through it. At last they reached the summit; as they did so they stopped in surprise. Before them was a cup-shaped depression some two hundred yards across, the centre being a hundred feet below the edges.

"It is the crater of an old volcano," the Peruvian said; "it is ages since it was active, so that we need have no fear or uneasiness on that score."

The interior was clothed with verdure. Here and there black crags showed through the foliage, but elsewhere all was smooth and smiling. The slope was regular, and it was evident that, as the captain said, long ages had gone by since there had been any disturbance. Vegetation had grown up and died, until a soil thick enough to conceal all the rocks, that had at one time no doubt thickly strewn the bottom, had been buried.

"What is that down in the centre?" Stephen said. "There seems to be a patch clear of trees, and there are some figures of some kind there. See, on the other side what looks like a regular path has been cut through the trees and bushes. Perhaps it is a burying-place; at any rate we will go and see."

They walked round to the other side of the crater. From there they could obtain a view of the side of the island opposite to that on which they had landed. It was far less extensive than they had expected, the hill sloping steeply down, and the sea was but a quarter of a mile away. A great number of islands studded the ocean, and some of those at a distance appeared considerably larger than that upon which they had been cast.

"Thank goodness," Stephen exclaimed, "the island is evidently uninhabited; now we can wander about freely."

"Yes; we might have saved ourselves all the trouble of fortifying that position," the captain said.

"It gave us something to do, captain, and did us good in that way. Besides, parties of natives from the other islands may land here sometimes. Now let us go down and explore the crater."

They descended the path and soon stood in the bottom of the crater. This they saw was a veritable graveyard. In the centre was a rough structure built of large stones sloping inwards, and forming a rough representation of a hut. They had evidently been placed there centuries before, for they were green with age; lichens and mosses grew upon them, and here and there small shrubs sprang up in the crevices. What had once been an entrance was closed with a great flat slab of rock. Round this central cairn were some eight or ten smaller ones.

These were evidently of comparatively recent origin, and one of them was surrounded by a hedge of spears, on some of which hung pieces of tattered cloth of native manufacture. Round the central hut were arranged four figureheads of ships; while in a circle stood a number of the hideous idols carried by many of the South Sea Islanders in their war-canoes.

"I should say that this accounts for the island being uninhabited," Stephen said. "I suppose there are still traditions of this having been a volcano, and that the mountain and perhaps the whole island is sacred, and only used as a burial-place for some very great chiefs."

He went across to the grave surrounded by spears.

"Here," he said, "are a dozen skeletons piled together—sacrifices, I suppose, on the tomb of a chief. If it had not been for these spears and skeletons, I should have said, from the appearance of the cairns, that they must all be at least a hundred years old, perhaps a great deal more."

"All the better," the Peruvian said. "I hope it will be a hundred years before they come to bury anyone else here."

"They must come here a good deal oftener than that," Stephen said. "These gods of theirs are all new, or at any rate freshly painted. Besides, the place is evidently kept with some care; and I should think very likely the people of the other islands make pilgrimages here once a year or so to offer sacrifices to the god supposed to reside in that central cairn, and to keep his house in order. I think that we cannot do better than follow this path back and sees where it goes to. It may not extend beyond the crater; but if it continues through the forest down to the shore it will be evident that it has recently been visited, for things grow so fast in a climate like this that in a year a path would be completely blocked up by vegetation. Where is Jacopo?"

"There he is at the top of the crater; he did not come down with us, and no doubt considered that the place was likely to be haunted by spirits."

They ascended the path to the top of the crater. The ground here was bare for a short distance, and Stephen saw that two lines of stones marked the course of the path to the trees. It did not lead down towards the sea, but was carried obliquely round the top of the hill until it reached the edge of the forest on the side of the island on which they had landed. Two rude images marked the spot where it entered the forest. It now led down in a direct path six feet wide. This was completely clear of shrubs, and not the smallest shoot of brushwood showed above the soil. Wherever the ground descended steeply rude steps had been cut; the trees on each side of the path had been barked on the side facing it. Here and there sticks, some ten feet high, with pieces of coloured cloth hanging from them, stood along the side of the path. The path itself was almost like a trough, the centre being fully two feet lower than the general level.

"It must be used very frequently," the Peruvian said, "and has probably been used for ages. No doubt in the rainy season the water helps to hollow it out, but the work must have been begun by human feet."

Jacopo kept closely behind the others, crossing himself frequently and muttering invocations to the saints. They followed the path until it came out at the head of a deep inlet.

"It is a useful road to the top of the hill," Stephen said. "It has not taken us more than three-quarters of an hour coming down, while we were six times as long in going up, and hard at work all the time. Look there; there is no mistake as to the numbers who come here," and he pointed to the patches of ashes and charred wood scattered thickly on the sand above the water-line, all along the edge of the inlet.

"There can be no doubt about that," the Peruvian said; "the place must be constantly visited, or at any rate by a great number at a time. However, I don't know whether that need disturb us. They evidently go straight up to worship or sacrifice and come straight down again, and all that we have got to do is not to fire a gun when they are on the island. However, we may as well look along the shore to see if there are any further paths into the forest."

They examined carefully, but could see no signs that the natives had gone inland at any other point.

"We may as well go along the shore now," Stephen said, "then we shall see how far this inlet is from our bay."

They were turning to start when there was a rustle among the undergrowth, followed by a short deep sound. Jacopo dropped his musket and fell on his knees. The captain crossed himself hastily; but Stephen dashed forward towards the spot where the sound had come, shouting:

"Come along, captain, it is a pig."

There was a rush as he entered the bushes, and a dozen pigs dashed off. He levelled his musket and fired at the hindmost, and gave a shout of delight as it rolled over.

"Fresh meat, captain," he exclaimed as the Peruvian joined him; "and there are at least a dozen others who have made off. Hurrah! there is no fear of starving; we may be sure that this is not the only herd on the island."

The pig was dragged out on to the sea-shore; it was a young animal, although nearly full grown. Jacopo was now in his element; he cut the pig open, eviscerated it, carried it down to the edge of the water, washed it, tied the legs together, and with his sword cut down a sapling and thrust it through them.

"We will carry the pig, senor, as you shot him. That is but a fair division of labour," the captain said, raising one end of the pole on his shoulder, while Jacopo took the other. They had gone but a hundred yards further when the trees near the beach grew less densely, and the ground beneath them was covered by a plant with large leaves and yellow flowers. Stephen, who was walking ahead, went up to examine them.

"Hurrah, captain!" he shouted, "they are wild melons."

The others laid down the pig and ran up to him. The patch extended as far as they could see; the plants covered the ground and climbed the trees by means of the rattans, festooning them with their bright leaves and flowers and fruit of all degree of ripeness. On the ground they found no ripe fruit. There were evident signs that this was a favourite resort of the pigs, and that they devoured the fruit as fast as it ripened.

"We will fence in a large patch of this," Stephen said; "there will be plenty for the pigs and us too. I never felt thankful that a pig could not climb before," he laughed, as he cut a melon hanging overhead. Although somewhat wanting in flavour the fruit seemed to the three men, after their privation for upwards of a month from green vegetables or fruit, to be delicious. "How do you suppose that it got here, captain?"