"Señor's paper," he said. Then, bringing his left hand from behind his back, he produced a second paper, saying:
"The Busno's paper too. Both were together in the Busno's bag, beneath the Busno's pillow."
Jack frowned. He looked at the address on the second paper; it ran: "The Marquis of La Romana to their excellencies the Supreme Junta at Seville."
"You must take this back, Pepito," he said.
"No, no," said the boy, his eyes gleaming. "The Busno and the one-eyed man are asleep; I should wake them if I took the paper back. The Busno took Señor's paper. Very well, I, Pepito, take the Busno's; and I will tear it in pieces, and throw it into the sea."
"No," replied Jack. "You are a clever boy, but you must learn to do things in my way, not your own. I will give back the paper myself."
Pepito shrugged, as though expressing his inability to understand an Englishman's mad way of doing things. An idea had come to Jack; he would not restore the despatch at present, but would wait until the morning. Placing them both inside his tunic, and buttoning it up, he lay down and settled himself to sleep.
Soon after daylight Jack heard angry, excited voices in Miguel's cabin. It was evident that the master had discovered his loss, and that the man was bearing the first brunt of his vexation. Gradually the voices dropped to a whisper, then there was silence, and Jack detected a soft footfall in the passage. The catch of the little cabin-door was slowly raised; Jack coughed gently, the catch dropped noiselessly, and the visitor disappeared without a sound.
At breakfast Miguel, evidently preoccupied and ill at ease, made no reference to the subject. As Jack had anticipated, he was not sure enough of his ground to report his loss to the captain. But his look became more and more anxious, even agitated, as the vessel worked its way in long reaches up the river. Perez, lounging against the bulwarks, was keenly watching Pepito, in whose somewhat provocative bearing he seemed to find cause for suspicion. The gipsy was even more monkey-like than usual, swarming up and down the yards, flitting around and above his scowling enemy with a disconcerting assumption that Perez was non-existent.
Suddenly, while Jack was watching the play of sunlight on the mountain ranges in the east, he heard a cry, followed instantly by a splash on the port side. He sprang across the deck, noticing as he did so the half-recumbent form of Perez lolling unconcernedly at the spot he had occupied for the past hour. There was nothing to be seen in the sluggish river below, and for a moment Jack was inclined to think that his ears had deceived him; but even as the thought passed through his mind he caught sight of a small dark object rising above the surface some yards in the wake of the vessel. With a loud cry "Man overboard!" he threw off his cloak, sprang on the bulwark, and dived into the river. The water was icy cold, but fortunately in these lower reaches the current ran slowly, and when he came to the surface, with the rapidity of a practised swimmer, he saw the small black head much nearer than he had expected. In another second the reason was clear; the owner of the head was swimming towards him with slow leisurely strokes, and Jack began to regret his precipitancy.