"I don't know," said Kit. "I was in my bunk and Don Erminio was in his, but we did get to sea. I understand Don Pedro took control."
The captain laughed. "El maquinista? Ave Maria! Señor, for a good sailor who is not a fisherman the thing was impossible! But I know Don Pedro. I have seen him dance, strange dances of the North, at the wineshop by the mole. Some say he is mad. All the same, the steamer is not wrecked. Ma!"
Kit stopped him. It looked as if Macallister's friends were numerous, but there was much to be done and he rowed the captain to the port office and left him to file his papers. One could not, without complying with some formalities, sail before daybreak, and Kit thought to send to the ayutante's house was risky.
Engaging a tartana, he went to see Don Erminio. The captain's small house smelt of salt fish, garlic, and burned olive oil, and Señora Martinez received Kit in the court. She was fat and her brown skin was thickly powdered.
"You will not excite my husband," she said. "When he is ill he is sometimes difficult, and he has had a dispute with the doctor."
She took Kit up the outside stairs and along a balcony to a small, hot room. Don Erminio occupied the old-fashioned bed, and when Kit came in looked up with a savage frown, but the frown vanished.
"I thought it was the animal of a doctor coming back," he remarked. "Me, I am a sailor, and he will not let me drink! The anisado was on the table, he put the bottle in his pocket, and I could not get up. Then he looked in the cupboard. The animal is cunning, but another time I put the bottle under the bed. However, the Moors have got Juan and Miguel. We must do something!"
Kit stated his plans and the captain signed approval. He was tightly bandaged and could hardly move his head.
"It is very good. But you will take Don Pedro?"
"I think not. In fact, he does not know I am going."