“Hullo, Vernon,” said Mr Jellaby. “What’s he talking about now, eh?”
“I believe he’s referring to the crew who deserted the ship and left him behind to his fate, sir,” I answered, “for he has spoken of the ‘cowardly sailors,’ as he calls them. I think they must have been curs, sir, to have left him to die tied up like that, sir!”
“Anything else, eh?”
“He also says, ‘be quick and look below.’ I suppose he means for us to examine the vessel’s hold.”
“Si si—yes, yes,” exclaimed the rescued man as I said this, seeming to understand what I suggested. “Abajo—abajo—go below! go below!”
He nodded his head also as he spoke, looking towards the after part of the wreck and pointing downwards with his finger; while a shudder of horror passed over his corpse-like face, the dark hair surrounding which made it look all the paler.
“By Jove, I think there is something in what you say, my boy,” cried the lieutenant, moving away at once in the direction indicated as quickly as he could, telling the coxswain to follow him. “I ought to have overhauled the cabin before. The sea is getting up again, I notice; and, we’ll soon have to shove off from here if we wish to get back to our own ship again!”
The moment the Spaniard saw Mr Jellaby start off on this mission, he drew a deep breath of satisfaction.
“Buena, buena—good, good!” he murmured softly, as if talking to himself. “Soy muy mal—I feel very ill!”
He then threw up his arms and dropped down as if he had been shot, Corporal Macan just catching him in time, crying out in a loud tone as he fell, louder indeed than he had yet spoken, as if giving a peremptory order—