One of the pirates struck a match and lit a lantern that he had brought with him from the outer cave. This he placed in the centre of the sandy floor. Another individual had brought in a bundle or two of dried grass, and this he proceeded to strew upon the ground at the farther end of the little cavern. Upon this Miguel motioned us to take our seats, a gesture with which we at once complied. All the pirates now retired to the outer cave, with the exception of the old greybeard and Miguel, who stood eyeing us for some time without uttering a word.
Mr. Triggs broke the unpleasant silence.
“It is time, I think, that we should demand some explanation of your conduct,” he said, speaking slowly, and addressing the mule-driver. “We should like to know for what reason we have been taken prisoners, and what is going to be done with us.”
The greybeard evidently did not understand English, for he looked in a puzzled way at Miguel and addressed some question to him. The two men conferred together for some minutes, and it was evident that they disagreed upon some knotty point. At length Miguel turned to us in rather a sulky manner, and addressing the gunner said,—
“Ze Captain-General in Havana have gotten in one prison two mans zat pelong to our ship; and if he shall kill zem, we shall kill you for ze return complimont, as you shall spik in ze Inglees. We should have much like better to catch ze Spanish orficer; but Inglees or Spanish, it can make vaire leetle deference to us.”
“But it makes a deal of difference to us, my fine fellow,” said Mr. Triggs, with a considerable amount of indignation in his tone; “and I should like to know how and when you are going to let the Captain-General know that you have taken us prisoners?”
One of his malevolent smiles flitted across Miguel’s features, and he shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. Then, slipping his arm through the greybeard’s, the two quitted the cave without vouchsafing us another word.
“I wonder whether that fellow is a consummate liar or not,” whispered the gunner, turning to me.
“I shouldn’t wonder if he was speaking the truth for once,” I answered in the same low tone. “I think the old greybeard persuaded him to tell us how matters stand.”
“Not a bad old codger, I’m thinking, that there ancient,” chimed in Ned; “but I’m dashed if I think Miguel could speak the truth if he tried for a month of Sundays!”