To pounce upon those boats, rush them afloat, and then tumble helter-skelter in over the gunwales was the work of seconds only; then, throwing out the oars, away we went for the pirate schooner, keeping well apart, in case of a treacherous resumption of firing on the part of the pirates.  But nothing occurred, everything remained silent--almost ominously so--on board the schooner, one head only showing above the torn and splintered bulwarks--that of a man who, apparently wounded, clung to the main-topmast backstay, seeming to watch our approach.  As we drew nearer that head gradually assumed a recognisable appearance in my eyes, until at length I felt convinced that it was that of Garcia himself.  Suddenly, as I watched, the fellow disappeared, not as though he had sunk to the deck exhausted but rather as though he had gone elsewhere at a run, and with his disappearance a strong suspicion of some diabolical treachery on his part gripped me.  I wrestled with it for a few seconds--until in fact we were within half-a-dozen fathoms of the schooner's side; then, influenced by some irresistible impulse, I sprang to my feet and shouted: