The pirate officer stepped forward in the most approved melodramatic manner.
"Me Pablo Henriques, tiente po—dat premier lieutenant—ob cruiser Malfilio," he announced. "Señor Ramon Porfirio him capitano. Now I take command ob de—de——"
He paused, unable to pronounce the name.
"—ob dis ship," he continued. "If you no give trouble den all vell. If you do, den dis."
He drew one finger across his throat with a guttural cluck and pointed significantly over the side. The stolid-faced prisoners hardly moved a muscle. With no immediate danger in prospect, provided the pirate kept his word, they were content to let events shape themselves, confident that in the long run the lawful keepers of the peace on the High Seas would adjust matters in the form of a running noose round the neck of each of the pirate crew.
"Now tell me," continued Henriques, addressing Burgoyne. "You no capitan; where am he?"
"Wounded," replied Alwyn briefly.
"Bueno. He make to ram us," rejoined the half-caste lieutenant. "Capitano Ramon Porfirio him angry, so we shoot. Say, is dis all der crew?"
"No," replied Burgoyne steadily. "There are several wounded below. Also the Chief Engineer is in the engine-room."
Henriques darted a glance of suspicion at the British officer.