After glancing rapidly over the bodies which lay upon the sand, the captain turned to his men.
"Come on, every one of you," he shouted, "and run out that boat," pointing to the largest one that had brought the Arato's men ashore.
Shirley and Burke looked at him in surprise.
"We want that vessel!" he cried, in answer. "Be quick!" And taking hold of the boat himself, he helped the others push it off the sand. "Now, then," he continued, "Shirley, you and Burke get into the bow, with your rifles. Tumble in, you black fellows, and each take an oar. You," he said in Spanish to the prisoner, "get in and take an oar, too."
The captain took the tiller. Shirley and Burke pushed the boat into deep water, and jumped aboard. The oars dipped, and they were off, regardless of the low surf which splashed its crest over the gunwale as the boat turned.
"Tell me, you rascal," said the captain to the prisoner, who was tugging at his oar as hard as the others, "how many men are aboard that schooner?"
"Only two, I swear to you, Señor Capitan; there were twelve of us in all."
The men left on the schooner had evidently watched the proceedings on shore, and were taking measures accordingly.
"They've slipped their anchor, and the tide is running out!" shouted the captain. "Pull! Pull!"
"They're running up their jib!" cried Burke. "Lay to, you fellows, or
I'll throw one of you overboard, and take his place!"