“How many can you take?”
“Well, señor, to speak truth, my craft is not intended to carry passengers. She’s a trading-vessel, as you see. But if you’ll step down to the cabin, you can judge for yourself. There’s a saloon—not very large, it is true—and sleeping accommodation for six—two snug staterooms that will serve, if need be, for ladies.”
“That’ll do. Now about the freight. Don Tomas tells me you have some cargo aboard.”
“A portion of my ship is already occupied.”
“That won’t signify to me. I suppose there’s enough room left for something that weighs less than a ton, and isn’t of any great bulk. Say it will take a score or two of cubic feet. You can find stowage for that?”
“Oh, yes, that and much more.”
“So far good. And you can accommodate three passengers: a gentleman and two ladies? In short, myself and the female members of my family—my daughter and grand-daughter?”
“Will the Señor Montijo step into the Condor’s cabin, and see for himself?”
“By all means.”
Captain Lantanas leads down the stairway, his visitor following.