the embankment, one of the three steering, with as matter of fact an
air as if they had returned from a trip within the lagoon. There was a
heap of things in the boat, the sail, a tank, a barrel, cracker-boxes,
blankets, and some clothing.

The men were bearded like the pard, and in tattered garments, their
feet bare. The one at the helm was evidently an officer, for neither
of the others made a move until he gave the order:

"Throw that line ashore!"

Goeltz seized it and made fast to a ring-bolt, and then only at another
command did the two stand up. We seized their hands and pulled them up
on the wall. They were as rugged as lions in the open, burned as brown
as Moros, their hair and beards long and ragged, and their powerful,
lean bodies showing through their rags.

"What ship are you from?" I inquired eagerly.

The steersman regarded me narrowly, his eyes squinting, and then said
taciturnly, "Schooner El Dorado." He said it almost angrily, as if
he were forced to confess a crime. Then I saw the name on the boat,
"El Dorado S. F."

"Didn't I tell you so?" asked Lying Bill, who was in the crowd now
gathered. "George, didn't I say the El Dorado would turn up?"

He glared at Goeltz for a sign of assent, but the retired salt sought
kudos for himself.