By the way, those same weapons had attracted my notice on the previous evening, though my thoughts were at the time so much preoccupied with other things that I made no remark about them. Now, however, their persistent clank and clatter forced them so prominently upon our attention that we both burst simultaneously into some exclamation respecting the incongruity of so small a craft being so well provided with arms. So well-furnished indeed was the Pinta in this respect that anyone entering her cabin might naturally have supposed himself to have been on board a privateer, or something worse. In the first place there was a rack stretching right athwart the aftermost bulkhead, in which were stacked a dozen good serviceable-looking muskets, their barrels brightly polished, the stocks carefully oiled, and new flints in every one of the locks. These were flanked on each side by a sheaf of some half a dozen boarding-pikes, the points of which had been ground almost to the sharpness of a needle. Above the muskets, forming a star-shaped trophy, which occupied almost the whole remaining surface of the bulkhead, were a dozen brace of sturdy pistols, their muzzles pointing inward, whilst their butts, all turned one way, formed the outer extremities of the star-rays. These, too, were as bright and clean as it was possible for them to be; and I noticed that, fancifully as they were arranged, they were merely suspended from nails, from which they could be snatched at a moment’s notice. And, finally, over each stand of pikes was arranged another star formed of sheathed cutlasses, with belts and cartridge-pouches attached, all ready, in short, for instant service.
“I cannot for the life of me imagine why our friend Juan should arm his cock-boat like this,” I remarked; “why, there must be enough weapons here for twice the number of men the Pinta carries.”
“Who can tell!” returned Courtenay. “For my part I fancy all Spaniards have very lax notions of commercial morality, and Master Juan may perhaps amuse himself, as opportunity offers or when times are bad, with a little quiet smuggling. Although, even in such a case,” he continued, “I can scarcely see the need for such a formidable armoury; for I should hardly suspect him of the inclination to undertake the risk of running a cargo worth fighting for. Well, shall we go on deck and take a look round before sitting down to breakfast?”
“By all means,” said I; and we were in the very act of ascending the companion-ladder when Francisco made his appearance at its head, coming down stern-foremost, with a coffee-pot in one hand and a smoking dish of broiled fish in the other, so we had to give way for him or run an imminent risk of being scalded.
“El capitano kisses your hands, excellencies,” said the lad, as he laid his double burden on the table, “and he hopes you have both slept well.”
“Admirably,” I answered, adding, as I looked at the appetising dish which sent up its grateful odours from the table, “Put out another plate, knife and fork, and so on; and tell ‘el capitano’ that we shall be very pleased if he will join us at breakfast.”
The lad stared at us in mute astonishment for a moment, flushing like a bashful girl meanwhile. Then, recovering himself, he muttered: “I will tell him, gentlemen; he will feel himself highly honoured.”
“That is all right,” laughed Courtenay, as the lad slid up the companion; “a very right and proper feeling, though I scarcely know why he should experience it.”
A minute later a heavy tramp was audible coming along the deck. The sunlight streaming down through the open companion suffered a temporary eclipse; a pair of legs, encased in enormous sea-boots, presented themselves to our admiring gaze, and finally a huge fellow of fully six feet in height, and broad in proportion, came towards us, bowing and stooping in the most awkward manner, partly by way of salutation and partly to avoid striking his head against the low deck-beams. He was dark-complexioned, bushy whiskered, with keen restless black eyes, and a shock of ebon hair very imperfectly concealed by a black-and-red-striped fisherman’s cap of knitted worsted, which he removed deferentially the moment his eye fell upon us. He wore large gold ear-rings in his ears, and was attired in a thick dreadnought jacket over a black-and-red-striped shirt, which was confined about his waist by a broad leather belt, to which was attached a sheath-knife of most formidable dimensions. The skirts of the shirt were worn outside his trousers, so that his tout ensemble was exactly that of a dashing pirate or smuggler bold, as that interesting individual is presented on the boards of a third-rate transpontine theatre of the present day. He was a picturesque-looking person enough, but he certainly was not Juan Gonzalez, to whom he bore no more resemblance than I did.
Courtenay and I glanced at each other in surprise, but neither of us said a word.