He was pointing on the chart to the long sh.o.r.e-line of Chili and Peru.

They both examined the outspread chart with still closer attention.

"Here, you see," resumed d.i.c.k, "here is the island we have just left; we left it in the west; the wind has not shifted; we must expect to come in sight of land, pretty nearly due east of it. The coast has plenty of harbours. From any one of them you will be able easily to get to San Francisco. You know, I dare say, that the Pacific Navigation Company's steamers touch at all the princ.i.p.al ports. From any of them you will be sure to get direct pa.s.sage to California."

"But do you mean," asked Mrs. Weldon, "that you are not going yourself to take the schooner to San Francisco?"

"Not direct," replied the young captain; "I want to see you safe on sh.o.r.e and satisfactorily on your homeward way. When that is done, I shall hope to get competent officers to take the ship to Valparaiso, where she will discharge her cargo, as Captain Hull intended; and afterwards I shall work our way back to San Francisco."

"Ah, well; we will see all about that in due time." Mrs. Weldon said, smiling; and, after a short pause, added, "At one time, d.i.c.k, you seemed to have rather a dread of the sh.o.r.e."

"Quite true," answered d.i.c.k; "but now I am in hopes we may fall in with some pa.s.sing vessel; we want to have a confirmation as to our true position. I cannot tell you how surprised I am that we have not come across a single vessel. But when we near the land we shall be able to get a pilot."

"But what will happen if we fail to get a pilot?" was Mrs. Weldon's inquiry. She was anxious to learn how far the lad was prepared to meet any emergency.

With unhesitating promptness d.i.c.k replied,-

"Why, then, unless the weather takes the control of the ship out of my hands, I must patiently follow the coast until I come to a harbour of refuge. But if the wind should freshen, I should have to adopt other measures."

"What then, d.i.c.k, what then?" persisted Mrs. Weldon.

The boy's brow knitted itself together in resolution, and he said deliberately,-

"I should run the ship aground."

Mrs. Weldon started.

"However," d.i.c.k continued, "there is no reason to apprehend this. The weather has mended and is likely to mend. And why should we fear about finding a pilot? Let us hope all will be well."

Mrs. Weldon at least had satisfied herself on one point. She had ascertained that although d.i.c.k did not antic.i.p.ate disaster, yet he was prepared in the case of emergency to resort to measures from which any but the most experienced seaman would shrink.

But although d.i.c.k's equanimity had been successful in allaying any misgivings on Mrs. Weldon's part, it must be owned that the condition of the atmosphere caused him very serious uneasiness.

The wind remained uncomfortably high, and the barometer gave very ominous indications that it would ere long freshen still more. d.i.c.k dreaded that the time was about to return in which once again he must reduce his vessel to a state of bare poles; but so intense was his aversion to having his ship so wrested as it were from his own management, that he determined to carry the topsail till it was all but carried away by the force of the blast. Concerned, moreover, for the safety of his masts, the loss of which he acknowledged must be fatal, he had the shrouds well overhauled and the backstays considerably tightened.

More than once another contingency occurred to his mind, and gave him some anxiety. He could not overlook the possibility of the wind changing all round. What should he do in such a case? He would of course endeavour by all means to get the schooner on by incessant tacking; but was there not the certainty of a most hazardous delay? and worse than this, was there not a likelihood of the "Pilgrim" being once again driven far out to sea?

Happily these forebodings were not realized. The wind, after chopping about for several days, at one time blowing from the north, and at another from the south, finally settled down into a stiffish gale from the west, which did nothing worse than severely strain the masts.

In this weary but hopeful endurance time pa.s.sed on. The 5th of April had arrived. It was more than two months since the "Pilgrim" had quitted New Zealand; it was true that during the first three weeks of her voyage she had been impeded by protracted calms and contrary winds; but since that time her speed had been rapid, the very tempests had driven her forwards with unwonted velocity; she had never failed to have her bow towards the land, and yet land seemed as remote as ever; the coast line was retreating as they approached it. What could be the solution of the mystery?

From the cross-trees one or other of the negroes was kept incessantly on the watch. d.i.c.k Sands himself, telescope in hand, would repeatedly ascend in the hope of beholding some lofty peak of the Andes emerging from the mists that hung over the horizon. But all in vain.

False alarms were given more than once. Sometimes Tom, sometimes Hercules, or one of the others would be sure that a distant speck they had descried was a.s.suredly a mountain ridge; but the vapours were continually gathering in such fantastic forms that their unexperienced eyes were soon deceived, and they seldom had to wait long before their fond delusion was all dispelled.

At last, the expected longing was fulfilled. At eight o'clock one morning the mists seemed broken up with unusual rapidity, and the horizon was singularly clear. d.i.c.k had hardly gone aloft when his voice rung out,-

"Land! Land ahead!"

As if summoned by a spell, every one was on deck in an instant: Mrs. Weldon, sanguine of a speedy end to the general anxiety; little Jack, gratified at a new object of curiosity; Cousin Benedict, already scenting a new field for entomological investigation; old Nan; and the negroes, eager to set foot upon American soil; all, with the exception of Negoro, all were on deck; but the cook did not stir from his solitude, or betray any sympathy with the general excitement.

Whatever hesitation there might be at first soon pa.s.sed away; one after another soon distinguished the sh.o.r.e they were approaching, and in half an hour there was no room for the most sceptical to doubt that d.i.c.k was right. There was land not far ahead.

A few miles to the east there was a long low-lying coast; the chain of the Andes ought to be visible; but it was obscured, of course, by the intervening clouds.

The "Pilgrim" bore down rapidly towards the land, and in a short time its configuration could be plainly made out. Towards the north-east the coast terminated in a headland of moderate height sheltering a kind of roadstead; on the south-east it stretched out in a long and narrow tongue. The Andes were still wanting to the scene; they must be somewhere in the background; but at present, strange to say, there was only a succession of low cliffs with some trees standing out against the sky. No human habitation, no harbour, not even an indication of a river-mouth, could anywhere be seen.

The wind remained brisk, and the schooner was driving directly towards the land, with sails shortened as seemed desirable; but d.i.c.k realized to himself the fact that he was utterly incapable of altering her course. With eager eyes he scrutinized his situation. Straight ahead was a reef over which the waves were curling, and around which the surf must be tremendous. It could hardly be more than a mile away. The wind seemed brisker than before.

After gazing awhile, d.i.c.k seemed to have come to a sudden resolution. He went quickly aft and took the helm. He had seen a little cove, and had made up his mind that he would try and make his way into it. He did not speak a word; he knew the difficulty of the task he had undertaken; he was aware from the white foam, that there was shallow water on either hand; but he kept the secret of the peril to himself, and sought no counsel in coming to his fixed resolve.

Dingo had been trotting up and down the deck. All at once he bounded to the fore, and broke out into a piteous howl. It roused d.i.c.k from his anxious cogitations. Was it possible that the animal recognized the coast? It almost seemed as if it brought back some painful a.s.sociations.

The howling of the dog had manifestly attracted Negoro's attention; the man emerged from his cabin, and, regardless of the dog, stood close to the netting; but although he gazed at the surf, it did not seem to occasion him any alarm. Mrs. Weldon, who was watching him, fancied she saw a flush rise to his face, which involuntarily suggested the thought to her mind that Negoro had seen the place before.

Either she had no time or no wish to express what had struck her, for she did not mention it to d.i.c.k, who, at that moment, left the helm, and came and stood beside her.

d.i.c.k looked as if he were taking a lingering farewell of the cove past which they were being carried beyond his power to help.

In a few moments he turned round to Mrs. Weldon, and said quietly,-

"Mrs. Weldon, I am disappointed. I hoped to get the schooner into yonder cove; but there is no chance now; if nothing is done, in half an hour she will be upon that reef. I have but one alternative left. I must run her aground. It will be utter destruction to the ship, but there is no choice. Your safety is the first and paramount consideration."

"Do you mean that there is no other course to be taken, d.i.c.k?"

"None whatever," said d.i.c.k decidedly.

"It must be as you will," she said.

Forthwith ensued the agitating preparations for stranding. Mrs. Weldon, Jack, Cousin Benedict, and Nan were provided with life belts, while d.i.c.k and the negroes made themselves ready for being dashed into the waves. Every precaution that the emergency admitted was duly taken. Mrs. Weldon was entrusted to the special charge of Hercules; d.i.c.k made himself responsible for doing all he could for little Jack; Cousin Benedict, who was tolerably calm, was handed over to Bat and Austin; while Actaeon promised to look after Nan. Negoro's nonchalance implied that he was quite capable of shifting for himself.

d.i.c.k had the forethought also to order about a dozen barrels of their cargo to be brought in front, so that when the "Pilgrim" struck, the oil escaping and floating on the waves would temporarily lull their fury, and make smoother water for the pa.s.sage of the ship.

After satisfying himself that there was no other measure to be taken to ameliorate the peril, d.i.c.k Sands returned to the helm. The schooner was all but upon the reef, and only a few cables' length from the sh.o.r.e; her starboard quarter indeed was already bathed in the seething foam, and any instant the keel might be expected to grate upon the under-lying rock. Presently a change of colour in the water was observed; it revealed a pa.s.sage between the rocks. d.i.c.k gave the wheel a turn; he saw the chance of getting aground nearer to the sh.o.r.e than he had dared to hope, and he made the most of it. He steered the schooner right into the narrow channel; the sea was

[Ill.u.s.tration: The sea was furious, and dashed vehemently upon the crags on either hand]

furious, and dashed vehemently upon the crags on either hand.

"Now, my lads!" he cried to his crew, "now's your time; out with your oil! let it run!"

Ready for the order, the negroes poured out the oil, and the raging waters were stilled as if by magic. A few moments more and perchance they would rage more vehemently than ever. But for the instant they were lulled.

The "Pilgrim," meanwhile, had glided onwards, and made dead for the adjacent sh.o.r.e. There was a sudden shock. Caught by an enormous wave the schooner had been hurled aground; her masts had fallen, fortunately without injury to any one on board. But the vessel had parted amidships, and was foundering; the water was rushing irresistibly into the hold.

The sh.o.r.e, however, was not half a cable's length away; there was a low, dark ridge of rocks that was united to the beach; it afforded ample means of rescue, and in less than ten minutes the "Pilgrim's" captain, crew, and pa.s.sengers were all landed, with their lives, at the foot of the overhanging cliff.

CHAPTER XIV.

ASh.o.r.e.