Captain Carera imparts some interesting Information.
Not a word was said by either of us until the unknown one had emerged from the companion and removed himself well out of ear-shot. Then, as Courtenay pushed the cigar-box across the table to me, after selecting a weed for himself, he looked me in the face and, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, remarked:
“Well, Lascelles, what is your interpretation of this riddle? What is the character of this felucca? Who and what is her skipper? And whither are we bound?”
“Hush!” said I, “here comes the boy. We shall find ourselves in an exceedingly awkward fix unless we keep a very bright lookout.”
Here Francisco entered the cabin and began to clear away the wreck of the breakfast.
“Why, Francisco, my lad, you look pale. You surely do not feel sea-sick, do you?” exclaimed Courtenay.
“Sea-sick! oh, no!” said the lad. “I got over all that long ago.”
“Ah, indeed!” remarked my fellow-mid in his usual off-hand manner. “And, pray, what may ‘long ago’ mean? Last voyage, or the voyage before—three months ago—six months—a year?”
“More nearly two years ago, señor. I shall have been to sea two years come next month,” was the reply.
“Two years, eh! Why, you are a perfect veteran, a regular old sea-dog, Francisco,” continued Courtenay as he exhaled a wreath of pale-blue smoke from his pursed-up lips and watched it go curling in fantastic wreaths up through the open sky-light. “And have you been all that time in the Pinta?”