“Then tell Master Castell that his daughter has come at last,” he shouted again, and in another minute a rope had been thrown to them, and they were fast alongside a ladder on to which Betty, who was nearest to it, was pushed the first, except for their guide, who had run up the wooden steps very swiftly.
Betty, who was active and strong, followed him, Margaret coming next. As she reached the deck Betty thought she heard a voice say in Spanish, of which she understood something, “Fool! Why have you brought both?” but the answer she could not catch. Then she turned and gave her hand to Margaret, and together they walked forward to the foot of the mast.
“Lead me to my father,” said Margaret.
Whereon the guide answered:
“Yes, this way, Mistress, but come alone, for the sight of two of you at once may disturb him.”
“Nay,” she answered, “my cousin comes with me.” And she took Betty’s hand and clung to it.
Shrugging his shoulders the sailor led them forwards, and as they went she noted that men were hauling on a sail, while other men, who sang a strange, wild song, worked on what seemed to be a windlass. Now they reached a cabin, and entered it, the door being shut behind them. In the cabin a man sat at a table with a lamp hanging over his head. He rose and turned towards them, bowing, and Margaret saw that it was—d’Aguilar!
Betty stood silent; she had expected to meet him, though not here and thus. Her foolish heart bounded so at the sight of him that she seemed to choke, and could only wonder dimly what mistake had been made, and how he would explain to Margaret and get her away, leaving herself and him together to be married. Indeed, she searched the cabin with her eyes to see where the priest was waiting, then noting a door beyond, thought that doubtless he must be hidden there. As for Margaret, she uttered a little stifled cry, then, being a brave woman, one of that high nature which grows strong in the face of trouble, straightened herself to her full height and said in a low, fierce voice:
“What do you here? Where is my father?”
“Señora,” he answered humbly, “I am on board my ship, the San Antonio, and as for your father, he is either on his ship, the Margaret, or more likely, by now, at his house in Holborn.”