“Have you no plan?”
“Marry, I have ideas. We might go across country to Acapulco, hoping to find there an English ship; but ’tis a long and weary way, and what with Indians and wild beasts I fear we should never get there. Howbeit let us tackle one danger at a time.”
Being then called to dinner I went below, and was perforce once more obliged to sit at meat with my jailer, who, now that his charge of me was coming to an end, was more polite than ever, and treated me with exceeding great courtesy.
“You have been on deck, Master Salkeld,” said he, “and have doubtless perceived that we are in sight of land.”
“I have seen the great mountain, Senor,” I answered.
“True, the land is yet little more than a line. If the wind had been fair we should have dropped anchor ere midnight. Your voyage has been a long one, but I trust you have not been inconvenienced.”
“Only as a man may be by the loss of his liberty, Senor.”
“You will soon be free,” he answered, giving me one of his strange, mocking smiles. “And I trust that when we part it will be with a full recognition on your side of the way in which I have carried out our bargain.”
“As I do not remember our bargain, Senor, I am afraid that is hardly possible,” I made answer.
“Chut! your memory is certainly at fault. However, the facts will probably occur to you—later.”