“I heard part of what he said, but my Spanish is very bad, especially if it’s one of these mongrel half Indian-bred fellows who is talking. You had better tell me plainly how matters stand.”
“Very well. Horribly badly. Things have gone wrong since we left England. Our friends were too venturesome, and they were regularly trapped, with the result that they were beaten back out of the town, and the President’s men seized the fort, got hold of their passwords and the signalling flags that they had in the place, and answered our signals, so that they took me in. If it had not been for his man’s coming to-night with a message from Don Ramon, we should have sailed right into the trap as soon as it was day, and been lying under the enemy’s guns.”
“Narrow escape, then,” said the mate.
“Nearly ruin,” was the reply.
“But hold hard a minute. Suppose, after all, this is a bit of a trick, a cooked-up lie to cheat us.”
“Not likely,” said the skipper. “What good would it do the enemy to send us away when they had all we brought under their hand? Besides, this messenger had a password to give me that must have been right.”
“You know best,” said the mate gruffly. “Then what next?”
“Up anchor at once, and we sail round the foreland yonder till we can open out the other valley and the river’s mouth twenty miles along the coast. Don Ramon and his men are gathering at Velova, and they want our munition badly there.”
“Right,” said the mate abruptly. “Up anchor at once? Make a big offing, I suppose?”
“No, we must hug the coast. I dare say they will have a gunboat patrolling some distance out—a steamer—and with these varying winds and calms we should be at their mercy. If we are taken, Don Ramon’s cause is ruined, poor fellow, and the country will be at the mercy of that half-savage, President Villarayo. Brute! He deserves to be hung!”