“You will find among our passengers two former acquaintances of your own, unless I am greatly mistaken.”
We were alongside before I had time to ask him the names of these two former acquaintances, and in another moment, accepting the precedence which the courteous young Spaniard, with a graceful wave of the hand accorded me, I found myself on the side ladder of the Santa Catalina.
As I stepped in through the entering port a small, withered-up, sun-dried, yellow-complexioned man in full captain’s uniform met me, and, introducing himself somewhat pompously as Don Felix Calderon, the captain of the Santa Catalina, bade me, and through me my companions, welcome on board his ship, congratulating us upon our speedy rescue, and expressing the gratification he felt at being the means of saving so many gallant enemies from a possible watery grave. I made my acknowledgments as gracefully as I could under the circumstances, and was about to proceed with an inquiry relative to those previously picked up off the floating deck when the ring of people who had gathered round us during our somewhat ceremonious exchange of compliments was abruptly broken through by a female figure, and in another instant my neck was encircled by a pair of lovely arms, a beautiful head was laid lovingly upon my breast, and the clear silvery notes of Dona Inez de Guzman’s voice sobbed out:
“Oh, Leo, Leo, my darling! what joy is this to meet you so unexpectedly, when I feared that fate had separated us for ever!”
I was about to reply when, to my horror I must confess, my eye encountered that of Don Luis, Inez’s father, as he stepped forward and laid his hand somewhat sternly on his daughter’s shoulder.
“There, Inez,” said he, “that will do. You are doubtless overjoyed to again meet a friend who possesses so large a share of our regard; but do not allow your enthusiasm to carry you too far. Señor Lascelles is suffering from the effects of a long immersion in the sea; he is doubtless both hungry and thirsty; and he is also undoubtedly anxious to make arrangements with Don Felix as to the disposal of his men. Come, my dear girl, let us return to the cabin for the present; when our young friend has refreshed himself and is at liberty we shall both be glad of an opportunity to renew our acquaintance and to have a little conversation with him. Señor,” he continued, turning to me and offering his hand with a stately and somewhat distant bow, “accept my felicitations upon your most fortunate escape.”
My beautiful Inez upon this released me and retired, somewhat abashed, with her father; but as she went she managed to throw back a parting glance from her brimming eyes which assured me that my hold upon her affections was still as firm as it had ever been.
This most unexpected meeting with Inez and her father, with the restraint and coolness of the latter’s manner to me, coming as it did close upon the heels of several hours of exposure and, what was worse, extreme excitement and anxiety of mind, rather pushed me off my balance, and for a moment or two after my lady-love vanished into the cabin I scarcely knew where I was. Don Felix saw this, and coming forward placed his hand under my arm and very kindly invited me to accompany him to his private cabin, delicately suggesting that I appeared to be much exhausted, and that a glass of wine would do me good. Like most youngsters, however, I was too proud to yield to the weakness which had momentarily overpowered me, so, rallying with an effort, I murmured that it was a mere nothing, and turned the subject by asking his permission to muster my men in the waist that I might ascertain exactly who were the missing ones. The permission was at once accorded, and I then discovered that, of the entire crew of the Dolphin, the surgeon, Boyne the senior mid, and twenty-six men still remained unaccounted for.
The question now arose: In what light would Don Felix regard us, and how dispose of us? I thought it desirable that this question should be settled at once; and I was about to submit it to the Spanish captain before dismissing the men, when the individual most concerned forestalled me by calling me aside to the quarter-deck, where he and several of his officers had been in apparently anxious consultation whilst I had been mustering the remnant of the schooner’s crew. He informed me, upon my joining him, that, pleased as he was to have been the means of rescuing us, his duty to his government left him no alternative but to regard us as prisoners of war; and, whilst he should be pleased to receive my parole and that of the other officers, he feared he would be compelled to put the seamen in close confinement below—unless I would undertake on their behalf that no attempt should be made by them to capture or otherwise interfere with the Santa Catalina and her crew, in which case the confinement should be merely nominal.
I could scarcely refrain from smiling at the suggestion thus thrown out, for the Spaniards mustered twice as strong as we did; and they were moreover armed, which we were not. But, preserving my gravity, I unhesitatingly replied that gratitude alone for the important service rendered us would have sufficed to prevent any such attempt as that hinted at, and that I therefore cheerfully entered upon the required undertaking.