"Don Ascanio will say no more," returned O'Donnell. "He washes his hands of the whole proceeding. Abandoned by his crew——"
"Enough," interrupted my great-uncle.
He rattled off a sentence in Spanish, and there was an answering rattle of arms thrown on the deck. He spoke again, and the Santissima Trinidad's men all shifted to starboard and marched into the fo'csle, herded by a bristle of pirate cutlasses.
Murray walked aft to where Peter and I still stood, uncertain what to do next.
"Have you seen her?" he asked.
"I think she is in that group of priests and nuns under the stern lanthorn," I said.
He compressed his lips, a habit he had whenever he must turn to some task he did not overly care for.
"'Tis a trick I shall find as distasteful as O'Donnell did our colloquy just now," he said shortly. "But we must be about it without delay. Our cannonade will have been heard ashore in Hispaniola with this wind. We must gather our loot and away."