The captain urged, but Kit was firm. Caution and tact were indicated, and although Macallister was generally cool, his coolness often masked a freakish rashness.
"Very well," Don Erminio agreed at length. "Sometimes Don Pedro is humorous, but the Moors are not people with whom one jokes. I will lend you my gun."
He signed to Señora Martinez, who brought the old pinfire gun and gave it to Kit.
"The gun is good. If you are careful she will not go off before you want, but you must not shake her," he resumed, and frowned when he saw the mark on the box of cartridges. "What is this?" he asked his wife. "Bring the number B. Señor Musgrave does not shoot the rabbit."
Señora Martinez got another box and Don Erminio nodded. "It is good! If Pepe has used the proper measure, she will kill a Moor at twenty yards. But you must not shake her. The hammer-spring is loose."
Kit thanked him and soon afterwards went off. He had taken the gun in order to indulge the captain, since it was obvious that when he met the Moors he could not use force. For all that, he had not a pistol and to some extent the old gun might give him moral support.
When he was rowed across the harbour he heard a guitar badly played, and jumping down from Cayman's bulwarks saw Macallister sitting under the anchor light. The engineer held the guitar awkwardly, and the sailors sat round and laughed.
"Hallo!" Kit said, frowning. "Why have you come on board?"
"Ye're a dour, crabbit Englishman and no' as clever as ye think," Macallister rejoined. "Ye had not been gone ten minutes when I kenned what ye were after and reckoned I had got to see ye oot. Ye didna ken I talk Aver-r-rack?"
"I doubt it now," said Kit and Macallister beckoned the interpreter, who had come on board with him.