“No, señor, I cannot. Nor can he at present, I think,” answered the lad. “It was at my entreaty that he brought you on board here; otherwise you would have been thrown overboard to the crocodiles that swarm in the creek just here. He said that prisoners were only a useless encumbrance and an embarrassment; but somehow I liked your looks as you lay, white and still, upon the French schooner’s deck, and I begged him so hard to save you that he could not deny me. And I am sure that we shall be friends—you and I—shall we not? There is no one on board here that I can be intimate with—except my father, of course—and he is so much older than I, that I can scarcely look upon him as a companion. Besides—”
The lad stopped, embarrassed.
“Besides what?” demanded I.
“Well—I—perhaps I ought not to say. You see we are strangers yet, and father has often said that it is a great mistake to be confidential with strangers. Some other day perhaps I may feel that I can speak more freely. And that reminds me that I have let you talk far too much already; you need rest and perfect quiet at present, if you are to escape a bad attack of fever, so I shall leave you for a little while to sleep if you can. But first let me bathe your wound for you, and bandage it afresh.”
“You are very kind, Pedro,” remarked I, as the lad with singular deftness proceeded to remove the stiff and blood-stained bandage from my head. “And I must not allow you to leave me until I have thanked you—as I now do, very heartily—for having saved my life. Perhaps I may have an opportunity some day to show my gratitude in some more convincing form than that of mere words, and if so, you may depend upon me to do so. Meanwhile, I see no reason whatever why we should not be friends, and good friends too, if your father is willing that it should be so. At the same time—but there, we can talk about that too, when we know a little more of each other, and understand each other better. Thanks, Pedro; that is very soothing and comfortable indeed. Now, another drink of lemonade, if you please—by the way, you may as well leave the jug and glass within my reach—and then, if you insist upon running away, why, good-bye for the present.”
The lad left me, and I fell into a rather gloomy reverie upon the fate of poor Ryan and that of the gallant fellows who had fallen in our ill-planned attack upon the occupants of this unlucky creek, as well as upon my own future, the uncertainty of which stood out the more clearly the longer I looked at it. I think I must have become slightly light-headed eventually, for twice or thrice I caught myself muttering aloud in a rather excited fashion, now imagining myself to be in the thick of the fight once more, and anon fancying myself to be one of the slaves that were imprisoned in the brigantine’s noisome hold; until finally my ideas became so hopelessly jumbled together that I could make nothing of them, and then followed a period of oblivion from which I awoke to find the state-room faintly illumined by the turned-down lamp screwed to the ship’s side near the head of my bunk, and by the more brilliant rays of a lamp in the main cabin, the light of which streamed through the lattices in the upper panel of the state-room door. The ship was heeling slightly, and I knew by the gurgle and wash of water along her side that she was under weigh, but still in perfectly smooth water, for I was unable to detect the slightest heave, or rising and falling motion in her. There was an intermittent faint murmur of voices overhead, an occasional footfall on the deck, and now and then the creak and clank of the wheel-chains following a call from the forecastle, all of which led me to the conclusion that the brigantine was effecting the passage of the creek on her way seaward. This state of things continued for perhaps a quarter of an hour, when I felt the vessel lift as if to a small swell, the wash and splash of the water along her side became more pronounced, then came a light plunge, with a corresponding roar of the bow wave; her heel perceptibly increased, and the pipe of the wind took a more sonorous sound; an expression or two in tones that seemed to indicate a feeling of relief and satisfaction passed between the persons overhead, and then a string of orders pealed forth from one of them, followed by the clatter of ropes thrown down on the deck, and the cries of the crew as they made sail upon the vessel. The movements of the craft now rapidly grew more lively; she heeled still more steeply under the pressure of the wind; the splash and rush of water alongside grew momentarily more confused; bulkheads began to creak, and cabin-doors to jar and rattle upon their hooks; the two people overhead began to pace the deck to and fro; the wind whistled and blustered with increasing loudness through the rigging; and as the craft plunged more sharply I caught the sound of an occasional clatter of spray upon the deck forward. This went on for some considerable time, and then I became aware of the sound of surf booming distantly, but rapidly increasing in strength and volume, until after a period of perhaps ten minutes its thunder seemed to suddenly fill the air, as the brigantine brought it square abeam; then it rapidly died away again until it was lost altogether in the tumult of wind and sea that now stormed about the vessel, and I knew that we had passed close to either Shark or French Point, and were fairly at sea. This conviction was confirmed a few minutes later by the descent of some one—presumably the captain—into the cabin, where, as I could tell by the clink of bottle and glass and the gurgle of fluids, he mixed and tossed off a glass of grog, after which he retired to a state-room on the opposite side of the cabin and closed the door. Then, lulled by the motion of the ship and the sound of the wind and sea, I gradually sank into a feverish sleep, from which I did not fairly awake until the sun was streaming strongly in through the glazed scuttle of my state-room next morning.
Shortly afterwards Pedro entered and bade me good-morning with a cheery smile.
“You are looking better, señor,” he remarked; “your eyes are brighter, and there is more colour in your face. I hope you were not greatly disturbed last night by the noise of getting the ship under weigh?”
“Not at all,” I answered; “on the contrary, I did not awake until you were clear of your moorings and passing down the creek. I remained awake until the ship seemed to be fairly at sea, and then I went to sleep again. I suppose we are out of sight of land by this time?”
“Yes, thanks be to the blessed Virgin! And I hope we shall see no more until we make Anegada,” was the reply.