It was getting late now, and nothing further could be done till the following morning. José was disappointed, but in no way disheartened.
"If we can't get what we want," said he, "we must be satisfied with what we can get. There's a fine bit of philosophy for you!"
"And what can we get?"
"A house at the seaside. We'll look for a sheltered place on the beach to-morrow, bring down some men to build a hut, and have the colonel removed to it. With the sea air filling his lungs, he may yet have a chance of recovery."
Instead of returning to camp, we slept that night at Pisco, and after an early breakfast went again to the beach. José had just selected an admirable spot for the hut, when we suddenly heard a shout of "Sail ho! sail ho! There's another—and another! Why, it must be Cochrane's squadron!"
In an instant we were gazing seaward, and there, sure enough, rounding the corner of the bay, were several vessels, led by a stately ship.
By this time a number of people had assembled, and more were coming in hot haste from the town. They talked and gesticulated violently—the majority, I observed being doubtful if the incoming vessels were friends or foes.
As they drew nearer, however, all misgiving vanished, every one agreeing that the leading ship was the San Martin, so named in honour of the great general.
"The luck's with us!" cried José joyfully. "Before nightfall we'll have the colonel on board one of those craft. How beautifully the admiral's ship is handled! she comes sweeping in like a great sea-bird."
"Hadn't we better get a couple of men to pull us out to her? she'll anchor soon."