“It’s her for all that,” returns Striker. “How so, I don’t understan’ any more than yourselves. But that yonder craft be the Chili barque, or her ghost, I’ll take my affydavy on the biggest stack o’ Bibles.”
His words summon up strange thoughts which take possession of the minds of those listening. For how can it be the Condor, scuttled, sent to the bottom of the sea? Impossible!
In their weak state, with nerves unnaturally excited, they almost believe it an illusion—a spectre! One and all are the prey to wild fancies, that strike terror to their guilty souls. Something more than mortal is pursuing—to punish them. Is it the hand of God? For days they have been in dread of God’s hand; and now they seem to see it stretched out, and coming towards them! Surely a Fate—an avenging Nemesis!
“It’s the barque, beyond doubt!” continues Striker, with the glass again at his eye. “Everythin’ the same, ’ceptin’ her sails, the which show patched-like. That be nothin’. It’s the Chili craft, and no other. Yonner’s the ensign wi’ the one star trailin’ over her taffrail. Her, sure’s we stan’ heer!”
“Chingara!” cries Gomez. “Where are they who took charge of the scuttling? Did they do it?”
Remembering the men, all turn round, looking for them. They are not among the group gathered around the staff. Blew has long ago gone down the gorge, and Davis is just disappearing into it.
They shout to him to come back. He hears; but heeds not. Continuing on, he is soon out of sight.
It matters little questioning him, and they give up thought of it. The thing out at sea engrosses all their attention.
Now nearer, the telescope is no longer needed to tell that it is a barque, polacca-masted; in size, shape of hull, sit in the water—everything the same as with the Condor. And the bit of bunting, red, white, blue—the Chilian ensign—the flag carried by the barque they abandoned. They remember a blurred point in the central star: ’tis there!
Spectre or not, with all canvas spread, she is standing towards them—straight towards them—coming on at a rate of speed that soon brings her abreast the islet. She has seen their signal—no doubt of that. If there were—it is before long set at rest. For, while they are watching her, she draws opposite the opening in the reef; then lets sheets loose; and, squaring her after-yards, is instantly hove to.