"Can yew make tracks ahead now, capting?"
"You are certain of this, Quaco?" said Pedro, bending his black brows as he looked at the cook.
"Sartain as that um a living nigger, Massa Pedro, yaas! yaas! Boy Joe, the steward, showed it to Quaco many a time."
"And what use would you make of this door, Quaco?"
"What use?" repeated the negro, putting out a long, red tongue, while a leer, like that of a fiend, shone in his black, glittering, and half-shut eyes.
"Hombre! yes, speak."
"Get at the wite gals fust, and the cabin arter—yaas! yaas!—eh, Massa Pedro?"
"I reckons, Pedro, that the darkey is the only one among us with any brains in his skull, a thick 'un though it be," said Badger; "but this sliding door——"
"I will look to it now," said Pedro, staggering up, for he was very tipsy. "Cuidado, mates—take care who follows me till I call for help," he added, with a dark glance at Hawkshaw, who eyed him with sullen resentment from a corner of the comfortless den, of which he was now one of the occupants.
"Oh, Barradas," he exclaimed, "if you have a human soul, spare them. They will surely die."