“Ah! compadre, viento y ventura poca dura! the fair breezes have chopped round in our teeth. Success, my friend, creates jealousy, envy, hatred, and malice. Now here were we swimming along as quietly as sharks under water, only coming up for a bite occasionally, when on come those villainous swordfishes, and wish to drive us away.”
Captain Brand gave expression to this pious homily in a tone of virtuous reproach against the world at large, and as if he were a very much maligned and ill-used gentleman. He touched the bell overhead as he spoke, and, putting his mouth to the tube, asked,
“Any thing in sight?”
“Nothing, señor.”
“Telegraph the man at the Tiger-trap station to keep a bright look-out, and direct the gunner to keep the battery manned day and night! Tell the boatswain to set taut the chain on the other side at the Alligator’s mouth!”
Don Ignaçio gave a rather suspicious glimmer at his vessel as this last order was given, and smiled; that is, if a one-sided twitch to the wrinkles about the line of his mouth could be tortured into a smile. His companion seemed to divine what was passing in the Don’s mind, for he added politely,
“The cable won’t interfere with the ‘Panchita!’”
“No, amigo; the felucca is anchored just outside of it.” The 70 Tuerto was not a man to leave any thing to chance, and he had taken the precaution to be on the safe side of the pirates, either as friends or enemies. He had indeed been as near an approach to a pirate himself as could be, and had only abandoned the business for a profession quite as bad, where there was less risk and more profit. In other words, he was now a colonial officer in command of a Guarda Costa, winking––but without shutting his eye––at piracy whenever he was well paid for it; and he invariably was well paid for it, or else he made mischief. Withal, he was as crafty and determined an old villain as ever sailed the West Indies. He had amassed a large fortune, and owned several tobacco estates––pretty much all his wealth acquired by the easy trouble of holding his tongue. Yet his greed was insatiable, and he probably would have sold the fingers from his hands, and his legs and arms with them––all, save his single black ball of an optic, which was invaluable to him––for doubloons. In fact, this feverish thirst after gold which always raged in his hot veins had induced him to pay Captain Brand a visit, and we shall see with what result. The truth is, however, that Captain Brand was the only man of his numerous villainous acquaintance afloat for whom he felt the least dread. He knew him to be bold, skillful, and wary, and so the Don had a tolerably positive conviction that, should he play him false, his own neck might get a wrench in the garrote while he was throwing the noose for his coadjutor.
To return, however, to the pair of worthies sitting in conclave in the pirate’s saloon: the captain, resuming the conversation, observed in a careless tone, quite as if the subject under discussion was a mere ordinary matter,
“When will this swarm of hornets be down upon us?”