They did not suspect how close I was to them. And their temper struck
me at once as unsafe. They seemed very much on the alert, and, as I
imagined, disposed to precipitate action. I called out, deadening my
voice warily:
“I am an Englishman, escaping from the pirates here. We want your help.”
To this no answer was made, but by that time the captain had come on
deck. The dinghy must have drifted in a little closer, for I made
out behind the shadowy rail one, two, three figures in a row, looming
bulkily above my head, as men appear enlarged in mist.
“‘Englishman,’ he says.” “That’s very likely,” pronounced a new voice.
They held a hurried consultation up there, of which I caught only
detached sentences, and the general tone of concern. “It’s perfectly
well known that there _is_ an Englishman here.... Aye, a runaway second
mate.... Killed a man in a Bristol ship.... What was his name, now?”
“Won’t you answer me?” I called out.
“Aye, we will answer you as soon as we see you.... Keep your eyes
skinned fore and aft on deck there.... Ready, boys?”
“All ready, sir”; voices came from further off.
“Listen to me,” I entreated.
Someone called out briskly, “This is a bad place for pretty tales of
Englishmen in distress. We know very well where we are.”
“You are off Rio Medio,” I began anxiously; “and I-------”
“Speaks the truth like a Briton, anyhow,” commented a lazy drawl.
“I would send another man to the pump,” a reflective voice suggested.
“To make sure of the force, Mr. Sebright, you know.”
“Certainly, sir.... Another hand to the brakes, bo’sun.”
“I have been held captive on shore,” I said. “I escaped this evening,
three hours ago.”
“And found this ship in the fog? You made a good shot at it, didn’t
you?”
“It’s no time for trifling, I swear to you,” I continued. “They are out
looking for you, in force. I’ve heard them. I was with them when they
started.”
“I believe you.”
“They seem to have missed the ship.”
“So you came to have a friendly chat meantime. That’s kind. Beastly
weather, aint it?”
“I want to come aboard,” I shouted. “You must be crazy not to believe
me.”
“But we do believe every single word you say,” bantered the Sebright
voice with serenity.
Suddenly another struck in, “Nichols, I call to mind, sir.”
“Of course, of course. This is the man.”
“My name’s not Nichols,” I protested.
“Now, now. You mustn’t begin to lie,” remonstrated Sebright. Somebody
laughed discreetly.
“You are mistaken, on my honour,” I said. “Nichols left Rio Medio some
time ago.”
“About three hours, eh?” came the drawl of insufferable folly in these
precious minutes.
It was clear that Manuel had gone astray, but I feared not for long.
They would spread out in search. And now I had found this hopeless ship,
it seemed impossible that anybody else could miss her.
“You may be boarded any moment by more than a dozen boats. I warn you
solemnly. Will you let me come?”
A low whistle was heard on board. They were impressed, “Why should he
tell us this?” an undertone inquired.
“Why the devil shouldn’t he? It’s no great news, is it? Some scoundrelly
trick. This man’s up to any dodge. Why, the ‘_Jane_’ was taken in broad
day by two boats that pretended they were going to sell vegetables.”
“Look out, or by heavens you’ll be taken by surprise. There’s a lot of
them,” I said as impressively as I could.
“Look out, look out. There’s a lot of them,” someone yelled in a sort of
panic.
“Oh, that’s your game,” Sebright’s voice said to me. “Frighten us, eh?
Never you mind what this skunk says, men. Stand fast. We shall take a
lot of killing.” He was answered by a sort of pugnacious uproar, a clash
of cutlasses and laughter, as if at some joke.
“That’s right, boys; mind and send them away with clean faces, you
gunners. Jack, you keep a good lookout for that poor distressed
Englishman. What’s that? a noise in the fog? Stand by. Now then,
cook!...”
“All ready to dish up, sir,” a voice answered him.
It was like a sort of madness. Were they thinking of eating? Even at
that the English talk made my heart expand--the homeliness of it. I
seemed to know all their voices, as if I had talked to each man before.
It brought back memories, like the voices of friends.
But there was the strange irrelevancy, levity, the enmity--the
irrational, baffling nature of the anguishing conversation, as if with
the unapproachable men we meet in nightmares.
We in the dinghy, as well as those on board, were listening anxiously. A
profound silence reigned for a time.
“I don’t care for myself,” I tried once more, speaking distinctly. “But
a lady in the boat here is in great danger, too. Won’t you do something
for a woman?”
I perceived, from the sort of stir on board, that this caused some
sensation.
“Or is the whole ship’s company afraid to let one little boat come
alongside?” I added, after waiting for an answer.
A throat was cleared on board mildly, “Hem... you see, we don’t know who
you are.”
“I’ve told you who I am. The lady is Spanish.”
“Just so. But there are Englishmen and Englishmen in these days. Some of
them keep very bad company ashore, and others afloat. I couldn’t think
of taking you on board, unless I know something more of you.”
I seemed to detect an intention of malice in the mild voice. The more
so that I overheard a rapid interchange of mutterings up there. “See him
yet?” “Not a thing, sir.” “Wait, I say.”
Nothing could overcome the fixed idea of these men, who seemed to enjoy
so much the cleverness of their suspicions. It was the most dangerous of
tempers to deal with. It made them as untrustworthy as so many lunatics.
They were capable of anything, of decoying us alongside, and stoving
the bottom out of the boat, and drowning us before they discovered their
mistake, if they ever did. Even as it was, there was danger; and yet I
was extremely loath to give her up. It was impossible to give her up.
But what were we to do? What to say? How to act?
“Castro, this is horrible,” I said blankly. That he was beginning to
chafe, to fret, and shuffle his feet only added to my dismay. He might
begin at any moment to swear in Spanish, and that was sure to bring a
shower of lead, blind, fired blindly. “We have nothing to expect from
the people of that ship. We cannot even get on board.”
“Not without Manuel’s help, it seems,” he said bitterly. “Strange, is
it not, Señor? Your countrymen--your excellent and virtuous countrymen.
Generous and courageous and perspicacious.”
Seraphina said suddenly, “They have reason. It is well for them to be
suspicious of us in this place.” She had a tone of calm reproof, and of
faith.
“They shall be of more use when they are dead,” Castro muttered. “The
senor’s other dead countrymen served us well.”
“I shall give you great, very great sums of money,” Seraphina suddenly
cried towards the ship. “I am the Señorita Seraphina Riego.”
“There is a woman--that’s a woman’s voice, I’ll swear,” I heard them
exclaim on board, and I cried again:
“Yes, yes. There is a woman.”
“I dare say. But where do you come in? You are a distressed Englishman,
aren’t you?” a voice came back.
“You shall let us come up on your ship,” Seraphina said. “I shall come
myself, alone--Seraphina Riego.”
“Eh, what?” the voice asked.