In it was a great store of gold, placed there, no doubt, for the payment of the crew, and with it some jewels. The jewels they left, but the money they divided and stowed it about them to serve their needs should they come safe ashore. Then they washed each other’s wounds and bound them up, and descending the ladder which had been thrown over the ship’s side when the Spaniards escaped in the boat, let themselves down into the sea and bade farewell to the San Antonio.
By now the wind had fallen and the sun shone brightly, warming their chilled blood; also the water, which was quite calm, did not rise much above their middles, so that they were able—the bottom being smooth and sandy—to wade without trouble to the shore. As they drew near to it they saw people gathering there, and guessed that they came from the little town of Motril, which lay up the river that here ran into the bay. Also they saw other things—namely, the boat of the San Antonio upon the shore, and rejoiced to know that it had come safe to land, for it rested upon its keel with but little water in its bottom. Lying here and there also were the corpses of drowned men, five or six of them: no doubt those sailors who had swum after the boat or clung to its gunwale, but among these bodies none were those of women.
When at length they reached the shore, very few people were left there, for of the rest some had begun to wade out towards the ship to plunder her, whilst others had gone to fetch boats for the same purpose. Therefore, the company who awaited them consisted only of women, children, three old men, and a priest. The last, a hungry-eyed, smooth-faced, sly-looking man, advanced to greet them courteously, bidding them thank God for their escape.
“That we do indeed,” said Castell; “but tell us, Father, where are our companions?”
“There are some of them,” answered the priest, pointing to the dead bodies; “the rest, with the two señoras, started two hours ago for Granada. The Marquis of Morella, from whom I hold this cure, told us that his ship had sunk, and that no one else was left alive, and, as the mist hid everything, we believed him. That is why we were not here before, for,” he added significantly, “we are poor folk, to whom the saints send few wrecks.”
“How did they go to Granada, Father?” asked Castell. “On foot?”
“Nay, Señor, they took all the horses and mules in the village by force, though the marquis promised that he would return them and pay for their hire later, and we trusted him because we must. The ladies wept much, and prayed us to take them in and keep them; but this the marquis would not allow, although they seemed so sad and weary. God send that we see our good beasts back again,” he added piously.
“Have you any left for us? We have a little money, and can pay for them if they be not too dear.”
“Not one, Señor—not one; the place has been cleared even down to the mares in foal. But, indeed you seem scarcely fit to ride at present, who have undergone so much,” and he pointed to Peter’s wounded head and Castell’s bandaged arm. “Why do you not stay and rest awhile?”
“Because I am the father of one of the señoras, and doubtless she thinks me drowned, and this señor is her affianced husband,” answered Castell briefly.