With his seaman's knife drawn ready for action--the badly-scared
sailor rushed out on to the deck prepared to sell his existence
dearly. To his amazement the deck was empty of all life, however.

Suddenly the hoarse cry sounded again, and this time he located its
source correctly. Seated on the crumbling maintop of the ship was a
huge, evil-looking bird of the kind called "Gallinazos" in South
America. The carrion creature eyed the newcomer with a red malevolent
eye and again gave voice to its harsh croak--the sound that had so
startled him at its first utterance.

"Ah, you old death bird, so you think you are going to get me, do
you?" shouted the indignant castaway, as the bird looked at him with
unpleasant anticipation.

"Well, you're not. Not if I have to shoot you."

With a heavy flop of its wings the carrion bird soared slowly away
toward the west as the sailor fairly shouted his defiance.

"Ah, my fine fellow," cried Bill to himself, "you have given me
renewed hope. I know that birds of your feather are good strong
flyers, but you've got to light somewhere. I judge from the fact that
you came visiting here that I can't be more than two hundred miles
from land--maybe not so much."

The thought was a cheering one and as the sailor, having filled his
pockets with doubloons and other coins, and given the dead men a
sea-burial by consigning them to the deep, sculled slowly back to the
Eleanor Jones, his mind was busy with plans of escape.