“You black rascal!” roared Burke, “you brought these cut-throat scoundrels down upon us!  You—­”

“That will do,” said the captain.  “There is no time for that sort of thing now.  We will talk to him afterwards.  Mr. Shirley, call all hands and get up sail.  I am going to take this schooner inside the headland.  We can find safe anchorage in the bay.  We can sail over the same course we went on with the Miranda, and she drew more water than this vessel.”

In an hour the Arato, moored by her spare anchor, lay in the little bay, less than two hundred yards from shore.  It gave the shipwrecked men a wild delight to find themselves again upon the decks of a seaworthy vessel, and everybody worked with a will, especially the prisoner and Inkspot.  And when the last sail had been furled, it became evident to all hands on board that they wanted their breakfast, and this need was speedily supplied by Maka and Inkspot from the Arato’s stores.

That afternoon the captain went on shore with the negroes and the Chilian prisoner, and the bodies of the nine men who had fallen in the attack upon the wall of gold were buried where they lay.  This was a very different climate from that of the Peruvian coast, where the desiccating air speedily makes a mummy of any dead body upon its arid sands.

When this work had been accomplished, the party returned to the Arato, and the captain ordered Inkspot and the prisoner to be brought aft to be tried by court martial.  The big negro had been wildly and vociferously received by his fellow-countrymen, who, upon every possible occasion, had jabbered together in their native tongue, but Captain Horn had, so far, said nothing to him.

The captain had been greatly excited from the moment he had seen the sail in the offing.  In his dire distress, on this almost desolate shore, he had beheld what might prove to be speedy relief, and, much as he had needed it, he had hoped that it might not come so soon.  He had been apprehensive and anxious when he supposed friendly aid might be approaching, and he had been utterly astounded when he was forced to believe that they were armed men who were rowing to shore, and must be enemies.  He had fought a terrible fight.  He had conquered the scoundrels who had come for his life and his treasure, and, best of all, he had secured a vessel which would carry him and his men and his fortune to France.  He had endeavored to keep cool and think only of the work that was immediately in hand, and he had no wish to ask anybody why or how things had happened.  They had happened, and that was all in all to him.  But now he was ready to make all necessary inquiries, and he began with Inkspot.  Maka being interpreter, the examination was easily carried on.