“Neither have I,” acknowledged Courtenay. “But I think we know enough to identify its position very nearly. If I understood our friend aright we are now heading for Cape Irois, the most westerly point of Saint Domingo. From thence he intends to shape a course for Cape Maysi, which we both know to be the easternmost point of Cuba. Then, having weathered that point, he informed us that we might expect to have the wind well on our starboard quarter, which—knowing as we do that the prevailing wind in that latitude is from about east-north-east—means that we shall be steering a westerly course, or say from west to north-west. That would take us up along the northern coast of Cuba. Now, how long did you understand Carera to say it would take us to complete the run to the Barcos Channel?”
“Something like forty-eight hours,” I replied.
“Exactly,” acquiesced Courtenay. “That was what I understood. Now I should say that, with the wind on her quarter, this little hooker may be expected to run about ten knots per hour, which, for forty-eight hours, gives a run of four hundred and eighty miles, at which distance, there or thereabouts, from Cape Maysi, I imagine the Barcos Channel to be. That, then, seems to indicate approximately the locality of the spot to which we are bound. Do you agree with me?”
“I do,” said I. “That is precisely how I have reasoned it out in my own mind.”
“That is well,” resumed Courtenay. “Now, why are we going there? Manifestly to assist in the betrayal of one Giuseppe something—I don’t happen to know his other name. From a hint dropped by Carera I have formed the opinion that this Giuseppe must be an industrious, hard-working, and, withal, somewhat canny gentleman of the piratical profession; a man who seems to have made the business pay pretty well, too, for does not our friend on deck estimate that he has accumulated the tidy little sum of close upon twenty-five thousand doubloons? Now, however, that fickle goddess, Fortuna, appears to have withdrawn her smiles from him. Those pestilent British cruisers are interfering with him, and we know that when they meddle with a business of that kind it means simple ruination for the honest people who are trying to make a livelihood out of it; consequently, our amigo Carera is no longer able to depend upon finding a rich cargo, at a low figure for cash, awaiting him at Giuseppe’s snug little stronghold. Carera, the honest and faithful, therefore proposes to become virtuous. He has, doubtless, of late experienced certain qualms of conscience respecting the trade he is at present engaged in, and he has made up his mind to abandon it. He has also resolved to reform his friend Giuseppe; and, in order that the reformation of that estimable person may be made thoroughly effectual, he has undertaken—for a consideration, most probably a share of the plunder—to point out to us, the captain-general’s deputies, the various rocks, shoals, and other impediments which obstruct the fairway to the pirates’ anchorage, and to indicate the several sea-marks which will enable us to safely and successfully pilot an expedition into such a position as will enable it to knock Giuseppe’s stronghold into a cocked hat. How does that accord with your view of the situation?”
“Yes,” said I, “I think you are about right. That is pretty much the idea I have formed of it.”
“Good, again!” ejaculated Courtenay. “Let us go a little further. We now come to the ‘hobble,’ or dilemma, if you prefer the latter word, in which we find ourselves. The unfortunate hitch in this business, as I look at it, is this. It so happens that we are not the captain-general’s deputies, but two British midshipmen, and we want to go, not to the Barcos Channel, but to Port Royal. How are we to get to the latter place?”
“That is a question which will demand our most serious consideration; but we need not worry about it for a few days,” I replied. “And, as to our not wanting to go to the Barcos Channel, why should we not want to go there?”
“Why, because we want to go to Port Royal instead, I suppose. What d’ye mean, Lascelles?—hang it, man, I—what are you driving at?” stammered Courtenay, thoroughly taken aback.
“Ah!” said I, with a certain air of triumph, I am afraid, “I see that my plan has not yet dawned upon your benighted understanding. What is to prevent our going to this Barcos Channel, seeing everything that is to be seen there, and then making our way to Port Royal—the difficulty as to that will be no greater then than it is now—and reporting the whole affair to the admiral, who will doubtless send an expedition on his own account, and send us with it as a reward for our—”