"Cowardly, superstitious rats, I should have expected this. They
would be chopped in bits before they would stay longer on board
this boat--they and their-Feng shui."

When morning came the deserters could be made out camped on the
shore, near to the beached dory. What their intentions were could
not be conjectured. Ridden with all manner of nameless Oriental
superstitions, it was evident that the Chinamen preferred any
hazard of fortune to remaining longer upon the schooner.

"Well, can we get along without them?" said Wilbur. "Can we two
work the schooner back to port ourselves?"

"We'll try it on, anyhow, mate," said Moran; "we might get her
into San Diego, anyhow."

The Chinamen had left plenty of provisions on board, and Moran
cooked breakfast. Fortunately, by eight o'clock a very light
westerly breeze came up. Moran and Wilbur cast off the gaskets
and set the fore and main sails.

Wilbur was busy at the forward bitts preparing to cast loose from
the kelp, and Moran had taken up her position at the wheel when
suddenly she exclaimed:

"Sail ho!--and in God's name what kind of a sail do you call it?"

In fact a strange-looking craft had just made her appearance at
the entrance of Magdalena Bay.