"I have no secrets from you," he said simply, "and a few words will explain the affair; for about a fortnight I have been playing a game of chess with a brig, whose appearance is most suspicious. Its rig, and fine lines, lead us to believe that it is a North-American privateer, trying to land arms, and possibly men, for the insurgents."
"Do you imagine," Don Cristoval objected, "that a privateer brig, knowing you to be in these parts, would venture to force a passage?"
"Yes, I do. These demons of privateers are afraid of nothing; and, besides, during the war of independence, I myself carried out more daring adventures than this."
"Then, we are about to witness a sea fight?" Doña Mencia asked timidly.
"Oh, do not feel alarmed, Señorita; it will not go so far as that, I hope; this brig, which I had lost out of sight for two days, has just reappeared, but this time with the apparent object of getting close enough to land to send a boat ashore. I will chase it vigorously, and do not doubt I shall compel it to put out to sea again, for it is impossible that it should attempt seriously to oppose us."
"Really, that is delightful!" Doña Mencia exclaimed with a laugh; "the fête will be complete: a trip to sea, a chase, and, perhaps, the capture of a vessel. You are really too kind, Commandant."
While the conversation became more and more friendly and lively in the state cabin, the corvette had started, and with all sail set, was pursuing Captain Johnson's brig.
"Halloh!" Don Cristoval suddenly asked, "What has become of our boat?"
"It was left fastened to a buoy," the Commandant said; "we will pick it up again when we return to our anchorage."
"Well," Don Serapio remarked laughingly, "if the privateer should feel inclined to fight, our sixteen men are quite at your disposal."