Whether Martin Alonzo suspected anything or not, Diego could not tell by any sign he ever made. The burly captain went about the deck always in his masterful, confident way, and the men were too much afraid of him to give him any cause for complaint against them.
On this third day, especially, when Diego was satisfied that matters among the sailors were drawing to a head, as if ripe for action, Martin Alonzo was absolutely free from any sign of suspicion. There seemed a storm brewing, and before he left the deck at night, he had everything put in readiness to be made snug and tight at a moment’s notice.
Diego was so certain that something would occur that night that, at the last moment, his resolution to remain reticent deserted him. It seemed to him that it would be right to make an effort to put his cousin on his guard; and with that purpose in view he placed himself nearer aft than he had any business to be, in the hope that Martin Alonzo, in passing, would give him the opportunity he sought for speech with him.
Well, Martin Alonzo saw him; but as it was a part of that worthy sailor’s plan to give Diego a good lesson in obedience and subjection, he merely noticed him to snatch up a rope’s end and order him forward with a sharp blow across the shoulders.
That effectually closed Diego’s lips to him; but as he caught the sound of a jeering laugh from Juan Cacheco, as he passed him, he turned fiercely on him and muttered between his shut teeth:
“Your turn will come, you prison dog!”
“And so will yours; and sooner than you think,” was Juan’s answer, no less fiercely spoken.
“It won’t be too soon,” said Diego.
“Ah! won’t it?” was all Juan’s answer; but it had an ominous tone.