"Yes sir; six more I count on."
"Which means lads, that with Harwood, Senor LeVere, and myself, we'll total twenty-one in this shindy. Now I'll tell you what is up. Watkins gave you some of it no doubt, but a word from me will make it clearer. I'm no pirate; I'm an English sailor, shanghied on board. Estada named me first officer because I understand navigation."
I stopped speaking, staring at one of the faces before me; all at once it appeared familiar.
"What is your name, my man?"
"Jim Carter, sir."
"You were in the crew of the Sinbad, three years ago?"
"I was that, Mister Carlyle," he answered grinning. "I know'd you the minute I cum down yere."
"Then that is all I need say on that line. Here's one of your mates, lads, who will vouch for me. Now, as I've been told, you are all of you in the same boat—you are prisoners on board, cowed by those mongrel devils amidships. Do you understand what I say?"
"If ye'd put it in Spanish, sir," said Carter respectfully, "an' talk kinder slow, they'd most ov 'em catch the meanin'. That's 'bout all the lingo we've heard lately."
"Very well; now listen closely, all of you. Luck has given us a chance to make a break, and get away. Captain Sanchez is wounded and helpless. Pedro Estada is dead, and I've got Manuel locked in that stateroom. His cut-throats are all below, and now all we've got to do is clap on the hatch and keep them there."