“Then you expect me to pay what I agreed, after what has happened, do you?”
“You promised to pay it.”
“And you promised to take me to Tarragona; and you have been trying to murder me on the way,” exclaimed Raimundo indignantly.
“Oh, no! I did not mean to kill you, or to hurt you; only to take two hundred reales from you,” pleaded the boatman, with the most refreshing candor.
“That’s all; is it?”
The villain protested, by the Virgin and all the saints in the Spanish calendar, that he had not intended any thing more than this; and Raimundo translated what he said to his companion.
“There are a lot of lights on a high hill ahead,” said Bill Stout, who had been looking at the shore, which was only a short distance from them.
“That must be Tarragona,” replied the second master, looking at his watch by the light of the lantern. “It is ten minutes of seven; and we have been six hours on the trip. I thought it would take about this time. That must be Tarragona; it is on a hill eight hundred feet high.”
“We have been sailing very fast, the last three hours,” added Bark. “But how are we to get out of this scrape?”
“I will see. Keep a sharp lookout on the starboard, Lingall; and, when you see a place where you think we can make a landing, let me know.—Can you steer, Stout, and keep her as she is?”