‘Look for trouble, but invite it not,’ were Sir Richard’s sole directions; and the couple went off rejoicing, proud of the trust committed to them, and so far resolved, within discretion, not to abuse it. But at the very outset their hearts fell, for there were the Spaniards already showing a flag of truce, and making signs for a parley.
‘They will not fight,’ said Brion, ‘unless by our will.’
‘I am little Johnny Nobody, and in your hands,’ said Tony.
Two of the Spaniards rode out upon the sands, where the river ran thin and scattered, and Brion and his companion pricked over to meet them. They were typical Southerners, lean and hot-eyed as hawks, but lavish in the sort of courtly ceremonial which precedes a duel to the death with rapiers. One of them spoke quite good English, and it was he addressed himself to the strangers. He opened with elaborate salutations:—
‘Greetings, senores. We make you many welcome to St John’s.’
Brion thanked him, with a return of his courtesy.
‘We take your welcome in good part, Sir,’ said he.
‘Ah!’ said the Spaniard; ‘but not in the best part, since you come to fortify against us in our own land.’
‘It is the mosquitos we wanted to keep out,’ said Brion politely. ‘They are very fierce in this island of yours, Sir.’
Young Russe could not repress a small explosion; but the Spaniard remained as solemn as a church.