"I recognized you, master," said he. "I looked through the skylight last night as you talked with the captain, and I knew you again. I know not how you came here, nor why, but it is strange company for a young English gentleman."

"I was trapped on board," I said.

"I thought so," he responded. "But speak low, master, and take no heed of me. We can converse while I work, but it will not do for us to be seen talking too much. The less we are noticed together the better for our necks. How came you here, master? I had no thought of seeing you in such company."

I told him as briefly as possible while he continued to coil the rope.

"Aye," said he, when I had finished my story, "I expected something of that sort. Well, I am glad that the old Hawthorn left me swimming, though sorry enough that all her merry men are gone down below. But what! death must come. Now, young master, what can we do? I swore a solemn oath when your good uncle befriended me that I would serve you.

This is the time. What can I do?"

"Alas," said I, "I know not."

"Do you know whither we are bound?" he asked.

"The Captain says to the West Indies. But I do not know if that be true or false."

"More likely to be false than true, master. Now, then, hearken to me, young sir. I have seen a deal of life, and have been a mariner this thirty year or more. We must use our wits. Can you, do you think, find out what our destination really is?"

"I am afraid not," I replied. "Nunez will not tell me more than he has already told me."

"True," said he; "true--you will get naught out of him. But I have a better chance. I can talk to the men--well it is that I know their lingo sufficiently for that. But nay, I will not talk to them, I will listen instead. They do not know that I understand Spanish. There are three of them speak broken English--they shall do the talking. I will keep my ears open for their Spanish--peradventure I shall hear something worth my trouble. You see, master, if we only know where we are going, and what we have to expect when we get there, we shall be in a much better position than we are now. For now we are as men that walk in a fog, not knowing where the next step will take them."

"I will do whatever you wish," said I.

"Then be careful not to have over-much converse with me, master. Yon Nunez has the eye of a hawk and the stealth of a viper, and if he does but suspect that you and I are in treaty together, he will throw me overboard with a dagger wound under my shoulder-blade."

"How shall we hold converse, then?"

"As we are now doing. If I have aught to tell you I will give you a sign when you are near me. A wink, or a nod, or a cough--either will do. And what I have to say I will say quickly, so that whoever watches us will think we do no more than pa.s.s the time of day."

So for that time we parted, and during the next few days I watched for Pharaoh Nanjulian's sign eagerly, and was sadly disappointed when I received it not. Indeed, for nearly a week he took no notice of me whatever, giving me not even a sign of recognition as I pa.s.sed him on the deck, so that Nunez was minded to remark upon his indifference.

"Your countryman seems but a surly dog," said he. "I should have thought he would have sought your company, Master Salkeld, but he seems to care no more for it than for that of the ship's dog."

"He is a Cornishman and a sailor, and I am a Yorkshireman and a gentleman," said I. "In England we should not a.s.sociate one with the other, so wherefore should we here?"

"Nay, true, unless that you are companions in adversity, and that makes strange bedfellows," said he. "But you English are not given to talking."

I hoped that he really thought so, and that he had no idea of the thoughts within me. I was ready enough to talk when Pharaoh Nanjulian gave the signal.

It came at last as he stood at the wheel one night, and I stood near, apparently idling away my time.

"Now, master," said he, "continue looking over the side and I will talk.

I have found out where we are going."

"Well?" I said, eager enough for his news.

"We are bound for Vera Cruz, master."

"Where is that? In the West Indies?"

"It is a port of Mexico, master, and in the possession of the Spaniards, who are devils in human shape."

"And what will they do with us there?"

"That I have also found out. It seems that your good cousin, Master Stapleton, did make a bargain with this n.o.ble Spanish gentleman, Captain Nunez, for getting you out of the way. The bo's'n, Pedro, says that your cousin suggested that Nunez should sail you out to sea, and then knock you on the head and heave you overboard. But Nunez would have none of that, and decided that he would carry you with him to Vera Cruz."

"And what will befall me at Vera Cruz?"

"He, being a pious man, will hand you over to the Holy Office."

"To the Holy Office! You mean the Inquisitors? And they----"

"They will burn you for a Lutheran dog, master."

We were both silent for awhile. I was thinking of naught but the fiendish cruelty which existed in such a man as Manuel Nunez. Presently I thought of Pharaoh Nanjulian.

"And yourself?" I said. "What will he do with you?"

"I am to share your fate, master. Senor Nunez is a good and pious son of Mother Church, and he will wipe out a score or two of sins by presenting the stake with two English heretics."

After that I thought again for a time.

"Pharaoh," I said at last, "we will not die very willingly. I have a good deal to live for. There is my sweetheart and my uncle to go back to, and also I have an account to settle with Jasper Stapleton. I will make an effort to do all this before my time comes."

"I am with you, master," said he.

"Have you thought of anything?" I asked.

"Nothing, but that we must escape," he answered.

"Could we manage that after the ship reaches Vera Cruz?"

"No, for a surety. We shall be watched as cats watch mice. If we ever set foot on a quay-side in that accursed port, master, we are dead men.

G.o.d help us! I know what the mercies of these Spaniards are. I stood in the City of Mexico and saw two Englishmen burnt. That was ten years ago. But more of that anon. Let us see to the present. We are dead men, I say, if we set foot in Vera Cruz, or any port of that cruel region."

"Then there is but one thing for us," I said.

"And that, master?"

"We must leave this ship before she drops anchor."

"That is a good notion," said he, "a right good notion; but the thing is, how to do it?"

"Could we not take one of the boats some night, and get away in it?"

"Aye, but there are many things to consider. We should have to victual it, and then we might run short, for we should have no compa.s.s, and no notion, or very little, of our direction. We might starve to death, or die of thirst."

"I had as soon die of thirst or hunger, as of fire and torture."