“Si, señor. Now ees what?”
“Now is what? That is as bright a remark as I ever had put up to me, Mr. Panchito.” (Cary held up two fingers.) “Dos hombres! Just the two of us. We must make the old steamboat, el vapor, vamoose from Cartagena.”
“Dos hombres? Si, señor,” instantly agreed the second mate to whom nothing was now incredible.
They adjourned to the saloon where the steward was waiting with food and drink.
“Seems like I heard yo’ conquerin’ somebody else, Cap’n Cary.”
“You did, Rufus. Now I’ve knocked off. I forgot to ask you—is there a cook to be accounted for?”
“Yes, sah. He come aboard with th’ men an’ is sleepin’ it off.”
“Please turn him out for an early breakfast. Does he have to be conquered?”
“Not him. I showed one nigger who was boss yestiddy. Um-m-m, I’se his speshul brand of Yellow Tiger.”
“Then we are all checked up,” said Cary. “Now, Mr. Panchito, you can siesta yourself on those cushions for an hour or two. I’ll be on deck.”