"I am sorry, Cap'n Adams," said Cain, after he had requested Pengelly to introduce him; "there's been a mistake on my part."
"Sure thing," replied the Yankee skipper. "But I calculate there ain't no darned mistake about that."
He pointed to the skull and cross-bones flying from the Alerte's ensign-staff.
"There isn't," agreed Cain, with a disarming smile. "The mistake was entirely upon my part. I took you for the Candide. S'pose you haven't spoken her?"
"Nope."
"She's doubtless skulking at St. Vincent, scared stiff and afraid to meet me," continued the pirate. "Well, Cap'n Adams, I'm not going to do you any harm. I'm not going to touch an ounce of your cargo——"
"But, sir," interrupted Pengelly, holding out the ship's papers. "Look here."
Cain gave a quick glance through their contents. Most of the cargo, including the gold, was Portuguese property. It was a great temptation.
"I know my business, Mr. Pengelly," he said sternly. "Now, Cap'n Adams, to resume. You'll be free to resume your voyage in a few days. In my own interests I am reluctantly compelled to employ you for my own protection. If you give no trouble you'll receive none. Is that clear?"
Captain Hiram Adams nodded. A grim smile spread over his lean features. After all, he was coming out lightly. His ship was not to be sunk; his cargo was to remain intact.