"They do not go well," said the other. "I have seen the tomato farm."
Wolf laughed and took them to the small stern cabin, where he got out two or three bottles, some figs, and cigars. Kit took a copita of sweet, white muscatel and studied his host. Wolf was dark-skinned and wore white clothes, Canary rawhide slippers and a Spanish sash, but his English was good. Although he was fat, his movements and glance were quick.
"We'll put you on board your steamer when we anchor off the town," he said presently.
"Then, you're not going in?" said Kit.
"I think not. Arrecife is an awkward port to make in the dark. If the wind holds light, we'll anchor and wait for daybreak."
"The wind she freshen," said Don Erminio. "I know the reefs like a fish. I pilot you."
A steward had lighted the swivelled lamp and Kit occupied a locker behind the small swing table. Don Erminio and Wolf were opposite and Kit thought the captain's offer embarrassed the merchant. He, however, smiled and said they would wait. They could not land cargo until the morning, the casino was dull, and to win three or four pesetas was not exciting. Then he turned to Kit.
"Since you sail for Las Palmas soon, I'll give you a passenger. I expect you know we are trying to start a trade with the tribes on the Sahara coast. One of my men got hurt, and if he goes with you, the doctor will look after him to-morrow. I'd like you to send on a note I'll give you as soon as you arrive and keep the man on board until a boat comes. Then perhaps you needn't register him in your passenger lists. He's not a Spanish subject and we don't want the commandancia officers to make inquiries about the accident."
"The officers are animals. Me, I know them!" Don Erminio remarked.
"Sometimes they bother one," Wolf agreed. "However, I'll pay the sobrecargo for a first-class berth."