"I was there."
"You were there?" cried the young man.
"Ay."
"For love of heaven, can you tell me who I am, what I am?"
"In good time, young sir, and for a price. At present I know but one thing."
"That is——"
"There lies your mother," answered the buccaneer slowly, pointing to the white figure on the sand.
"My mother! Madre de Dios!" cried Alvarado, stepping forward and looking down upon the upturned face with its closely cut white hair, showing beautiful in the moonlight. "God rest her soul, she hath a lovely face and died in defence of her honor like the gentlewoman she should be. My mother—how know you this?"
"In the sack of Panama a woman gave me a male child, and for money I agreed to take it and leave it in a safe and secluded spot outside the city walls. I carried it at the hazard of my life as far as Cuchillo and there left it."
"But how know you that the child you left is I?"