“I promise. I won’t.”
“’Twould be no laughing matter were it true. But, of course, it could only be fancy.”
“Fancy about what? Go on, tia: I’m all impatience.”
“About the sailors on board. All have bad faces; some of them seem very demonios. But there’s one has particularly impressed me. Would you believe it, Iñez, he has eyes exactly like De Lara’s! His features too resemble those of Don Francisco; only that the sailor has a beard and whiskers, while he had none. Of course the resemblance can be but accidental. Still, it caused me a start, when I first observed it, and has several times since. Never more than this very morning, when I was up here, and saw that man. He was at the wheel, all by himself, steering. Several times, on turning suddenly round, I caught him looking straight at me, staring in the most insolent manner. I had half a mind to complain to Captain Lantanas; but reflecting that we were so near the end of our voyage—”
She is not permitted to say more. For at the moment, a man appearing on the poop-deck, as if he had risen out of it, stands before her—the sailor who resembles De Lara!
Making a low bow, he says:
“Not near the end of your voyage, señorita; but at it,” adding with an ironical smile: “Now, ladies! you’re going ashore. The boat is down; and, combining business with pleasure, it’s my duty to hand you into it.”
While he is speaking, another of the sailors approaches Iñez; Hernandez, who offers his services in a similar style and strain.
For a moment, the girls are speechless, through sheer stark astonishment. Horror succeeds, as the truth flashes upon them. And then, instead of coherent speech, they make answer by a simultaneous shriek; at the same time making an attempt to retreat towards the cabin-stair.
Not a step is permitted them. They are seized in strong arms; and half-dragged, half-lifted off their feet, hurried away from the taffrail.