"Tush, man! Why think of such a thing?" demanded Sir Thomas, angrily. "Who would risk almost certain death in such a manner? We might have sailed some leagues to north or south. We might so easily have lost him, or he us, to follow your reasoning. And if we had, could he live to reach the land?"
The argument seemed conclusive, and, moreover, though this Spaniard did not appear to be at the last extremity, he seemed to have lost his senses.
"This sun blazing on his head would be sufficient for that," said Sir Thomas. "The man is a derelict, and it matters not to us whether he is in extremes or but lately become unconscious; we will succour him all the same. Come, now, let an old campaigner give advice. Give him water first, but in little sips, and not much at that; later, he shall have his fill, when he is able to eat. Roger de Luce and the surgeon will look to him, while we see that the boat is hoisted. There was nothing else aboard?"
"Nothing," was the answer.
"And he has no papers about him?"
"I have searched," answered Roger. "His pockets are empty; there is nothing on him."
"Then he is deserving of our compassion. Let us deal with him as we would wish to be dealt with were we in like predicament. Let him have water, as I said, and later his fill of meat."
That evening the Spaniard was able to sit up, and even to struggle to his feet, but he was as yet too weak to give an account of himself. However, on the following morning Roger questioned him in the presence of the commander.
"Let us hear where you come from," he said kindly. "We discovered you in the middle of the ocean, far from land, and without food or water."
"Would I had died!" was the answer, as the man stared at Roger, astounded to find one aboard an English ship who spoke his language. "Would I had died! For it seems that I have fallen from the hands of one enemy into those of another."