Suddenly a gaudy little pinnace, that was running for the stairs near the old half-moon battery, caught the nautical eye of Pedro.
"Luff, luff, presto!" he exclaimed, as he saw there was something foul with the sheet; "luff, you lubber!"
The words had scarcely left his lips ere there was a shout from the spectators. The shoulder-of-mutton sail shivered and flapped as the boat broached-to and capsized.
Then a lady and gentleman were seen floundering and splashing in the water. The latter succeeded in reaching the keel of the inverted boat, to which he clung, wildly shouting for help the while; but the former was swept by the current that ran round the harbour rock.
"My daughter! O Dios mio! my poor daughter! She will perish—she will drown! Who will save her? O Madre de Dios! who will save her?" exclaimed an old gentleman, rushing in despair along the quay, wringing his hands, and gesticulating, as foreigners only do, appealing to several men in vain.
Pedro saw the girl rising and sinking alternately as her crinoline buoyed her up, and piteously she shrieked every time she rose. He coolly measured the distance from the quay to where she was drowning. He could swim like a fish; but he thought of his new finery, so recently donned, and was turning away, when the unfortunate father rushed forward and grasped his hands.
"Can you swim, senor?" he asked, impetuously.
"Yes, a little," replied Pedro, with hesitation.
"You can—you can!"
"Like a duck or a dolphin sometimes."