But they are not afraid. No one is within earshot. Their comrades of the watch are away in the forward part of the vessel, while those of the off-watch are below in her forepeak—the skipper asleep in his cabin—the passengers in theirs.
It is about two of these last they are talking; and in terms, that, for common sailors, might seem strange—rough ribald men bandying free speech, and making familiar remarks, about such delicate high-born dames as Carmen Montijo and Iñez Alvarez!
But not strange to one acquainted with Gil Gomez and José Hernandez—and too intelligible if knowing their intention towards these ladies. It may be learnt by listening to their conversation; Hernandez, who has introduced the subject, asking:
“About the muchachas? What are we to do with them after getting ashore?”
“Marry them, of course,” promptly answers the other. “That’s what I mean doing with the beautiful Doña Carmen. Don’t you intend the same with Doña Iñez?”
“Of course—if I can.”
“Can! There need be no difficulty about it, camarado.”
“I hope not; though I think there will, and a good deal. There’s certain to be some.”
“In what way?”
“Suppose they don’t give their consent!”