Besides Yawl and his helpers, we found on the beach about thirty men and women, the saved of two thousand. Among them was one of the priests ordained by the abbé. All had lived in the lower part of the oasis, and when the volcano began spouting water, after the third earthquake, they fled to the coast and so escaped. Though naturally much distressed (being bereft of home, kindred, and all they possessed), they bore their misfortunes with the uncomplaining stoicism so characteristic of their race.
The immediate question was how to dispose of these unfortunates. I could not take them away in the sloop, and I knew that they would prefer to remain in the neighborhood where they were born. But the oasis was uninhabitable. A few weeks and it would be merged once more in the desert from which it had been so painfully won. Therefore I proposed that they should settle at Alta Vista under charge of the priest. Alta Vista being above the volcano no outburst of lava could reach them, and the azequia being intact beyond that point they could easily bring more land under cultivation and live in comfort and abundance.
To this proposal the survivors and the priest gladly and gratefully assented. They were very good, those poor Indians, and seemed much more concerned over our approaching departure than their own fate, beseeching us, with many entreaties, not to leave them. Angela would have yielded, but I was obdurate. I could not see that it was in any sense our duty to bury ourselves in a remote corner of the Andes for the sake of a score or two of Indians who were very well able to do without us. What could be the good of building up another colony and creating another oasis merely that the evil genii of the mountains might destroy them in a night? Had the abbé, instead of spending a lifetime in making Quipai, devoted his energies to some other work, he might have won for himself enduring fame and permanently benefited mankind. As it was, he had effected less than nothing, and I was resolved not to court his fate by following his example.
Those were the arguments I used to Angela, and in the end she not only fully agreed with me that it was well for us to go, but that the sooner we went the better. The means were at hand. Yawl could have the yacht ready for sea within twenty-four hours. There was little more to do than head the sails and get water and provisions on board. I had the casks filled forthwith—for the water in the channels was fast draining away—set some of the people to work preparing tasajo, and sent Ramon with the mules and two arrieros to Alta Vista for the remainder of our clothing, bedding, and several other things which I thought would be useful on the voyage.
Ramon, I may mention, was my own personal attendant. He had been brought up and educated by Angela and myself, and was warmly attached to us. In disposition he was bright and courageous, in features almost European; there could be little doubt that he was descended from some white castaway, who had landed on the coast and been adopted by this tribe. He said it would break his heart if we left him behind, so we took him with us, and he has ever since been the faithful companion of my wanderings and my trusty friend.
My wife and I slept in our tent, Kidd and Yawl on the sloop. As the sails were not bent nor the boat victualled, I had no fear of their giving us the slip in the night. In the morning Ramon and the arrieros returned with their lading, and by sunset we had everything on board and was ready for a start.
The next thing was to settle our course. I wanted to reach a port where I could turn some of my diamonds into cash and take shipping for England, the West Indies, or the United States. We were between Valparaiso and Callao, and the former place, as being on the way, seemed the more desirable place to make for. But as the prevailing winds on the coast are north and northwest a voyage in the opposite direction would involve much beating up and nasty fetches, and, in all probability, be long and tedious. For these reasons I decided in favor of Callao, and told Kidd to shape our course accordingly.
“Just as you like, sir,” he said; “it is all the same to Yawl and me where we go. But it’s a longish stretch to Callao. Don’t you think we had better make for some nearer place? There’s Islay, and there’s Arica; and I doubt whether our water will last out till we get to Callao.”
“We must make it last till we get to Callao,” I answered, sharply; “except under compulsion I will put in neither at Islay nor Arica.”
“All right, sir! We are under your orders, and what you say shall be done, as far as lies in our power.”