‘No, no, no! Señor Buccaneer, although I have much traffic with the seed of Abraham, I am none of their kindred; were I such, I would be wiser than to come here to live in a sty on this scorching coast, driving hard bargains for sick oysters.’
My entertainer then went on with his stories of European courts, and I was listening with open mouth, as he told, with many a quip and many a sneer, how, under the guidance of one Chiffinch, he had one night passed up the back stairs at Whitehall to hold a secret interview with Louise de Querailles, since Duchess of Portsmouth, touching certain jewels which it was convenient to raise money upon until there should come a remittance from the court of Versailles, through Monseigneur Barillon, the ambassador of Louis; when all at once there came a loud rap, accompanied by a shrill whistle, at the door. Peralta started quickly up, but without appearing at all discomposed, and opening the door with speed, a handsome fellow, a mulatto, dressed like a sailor, bounded in, exclaiming at the same moment, in a loud whisper:
‘Juan and Blanco are both detected!’
Then seeing me, he stopped as suddenly as though he had been shot. But Peralta speedily reassured him.
‘Go on, man; go on. He who standeth there is my friend; he is one of us. Go on. Have they confessed?’
‘All,’ replied the mulatto. ‘They first told the truth, and then a great deal more than the truth, in hopes the better to save their necks. I squeezed in with them into the fort, and heard it all. The soldiers are coming. I heard the order given.’
Peralta stood still for a moment, and then said hurriedly, ‘Doth it blow?’
The mulatto replied, that there was a light air only, from the eastward.
‘With the tide two hours on the ebb. That will do well. Disco is on board the piragua?’
The mulatto nodded eagerly. Peralta turned to me—‘I suppose,’ quoth he, ‘you have no objection to make a start of it this very hour?’