In the distance Easterling and his men, observing the operation, rested on their oars to stare and mutter. They saw themselves cheated of even the meagre satisfaction for which they had looked in the sinking of an unsuspected treasure. Easterling burst into fresh profanity.
«It'll be that damned Spaniard I forgot in the cabin who'll ha' blabbed of the gold. Oh, 'sdeath! This is what comes o' being soft–hearted. If only I'd cut his throat now …»
Meanwhile, to Don Ildefonso, who had been able to make nothing of this boarding manoeuvre, Captain Blood, save for the light eyes in his bronzed face, looking every inch a Spaniard, and delivering himself in the impeccable Castilian of which he was master, was offering explanations.
He was unable to spare a crew to man the Santa Barbara, for his own following was insufficient. Nor dared he leave her afloat, since in that case she would be repossessed by the abominable pirates whom he had constrained to abandon her. It remained, therefore, before scuttling her only to transship the treasure with which Don Ildefonso informed him she was laden. At the same time he would be happy to offer Don Ildefonso and his six surviving hands the hospitality of the Cinco Llagas as far as Tortuga, or, if Don Ildefonso preferred it, as seemed probable, Captain Blood would seize a favourable moment for allowing them to take one of his boats and land themselves upon the coast of Hispaniola.
Now this speech was the most amazing thing that had yet happened to Don Ildefonso in that day of amazements.
«Tortuga!» he exclaimed. «Tortuga! You sail to Tortuga, do you say? But what to do there? In God's name, who are you, then? What are you?»
«As for who I am, I am called Peter Blood. As for what I am, faith, I scarce know myself.»
«You are English!» cried the Spaniard in sudden horror of partial understanding.
«Ah, no. That, at least, I am not.» Captain Blood drew himself up with great dignity. «I have the honour to be Irish.»
«Ah, bah! Irish or English, it is all one.»