The next day brought no relief.
From the windowless hut we could see naught of what passed without; but about an hour before noon we heard a drum beat in the village. The sound grew ever fainter, as though receding; then came the distant report of musketry, and we grew anxious for our people on the sloop. Hours passed by, and again came the sound of heavy firing, which gradually died away as before.
Late in the afternoon we were joined by another prisoner, whom—from his dress of skins—we mistook at first sight for a young Indian; but 'twas no other than the lad Poole, who was in Mr. Rivers's service and most loyally attached to his master.
From him we learned that the Indians and some Spaniards had been parleying with our men all day. He had swum ashore with a letter to the friar, and had been received with kindness by the savages, who clad him after their own fashion. The friar, however, vouchsafed him no reply; and after a time gave a signal to his men to fire on the sloop. The arrows of the Indians and the muskets of the Spaniards had finally compelled the Three Brothers to weigh anchor and put out to sea.
CHAPTER IV.
Day after day dragged by. We grew aweary of discussing the possibilities of our escape and fell gradually into silence.
It was on the first day of June that Don Pedro de Melinza arrived in the galley from San Augustin, and our captivity took on a new phase.
He is a handsome man, this Spanish Don, and he bears himself with the airs of a courtier—when it so pleases him. As he stood that day at the open door of our hut prison, in the full glow of the summer morning, he was a goodly sight. His thick black hair was worn in a fringe of wavy locks that rested lightly on his flaring collar. His leathern doublet fitted close to his slight, strong figure, and through its slashed sleeves there was a shimmer of fine silk. In his right hand he held his plumed sombrero against his breast; his left rested carelessly on the hilt of his sword.