That night the crew of the Miranda slept well and enjoyed the first real
rest they had had since the storm. No watch was kept, for they all
thought it would be an unnecessary hardship. The captain awoke at early
dawn, and, as he stepped out of the tent, he glanced over sea and land.
There were no signs of storm, the brig had not slipped out into deep
water, their boats were still high and dry upon the beach, and there was
something encouraging in the soft, early light and the pleasant morning
air. He was surprised, however, to find that he was not the first man
out. On a piece of higher ground, a little back from the tents, Shirley
was standing, a glass to his eye.
"What do you see?" cried the captain.
"A sail!" returned Shirley.
At this every man in the tents came running out. Even to the negroes the
words, "A sail," had the startling effect which they always have upon
ship-wrecked men.
The effect upon Captain Horn was a strange one, and he could scarcely
understand it himself. It was amazing that succor, if succor it should
prove to be, had arrived so quickly after their disaster. But
not-withstanding the fact that he would be overjoyed to be taken off that
desolate coast, he could not help a strong feeling of regret that a sail
had appeared so soon. If they had had time to conceal their treasure, all
might have been well. With the bags of gold buried in a trench, or
covered with sand so as to look like a natural mound, he and his sailors
might have been taken off merely as shipwrecked sailors, and carried to
some port where he might charter another vessel and come back after his
gold.
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