«You are very opportune. Caramba! Where is this Spanish gold?»
«Yonder.» The cacique pointed vaguely westward. «March ten days.»
Blood's face grew overcast. Remembering Morgan's exploit across the isthmus, he leapt at a conclusion.
«Panama?» quoth he.
But the Indian shook his head, a certain impatience in his sternly wistful features.
«No. Santa Maria.»
And he proceeded clumsily to explain that there, on the river of that name, was collected all the gold mined in the mountains of the district for ultimate transmission to Panama. Now was the time when the accumulations were heaviest. Soon the gold would be removed. If Captain Blood desired it — and Brazo Largo knew that there was a prodigious store — he must come at once.
Of the Indian's sincerity and goodwill towards himself Captain Blood entertained no single doubt. The bitter hatred of Spain smouldering in the breast of all Indians under Spanish rule made them the instinctive allies of any enemy of Spain.
Captain Blood sat on the locker under the stern windows and looked out over the sun–kissed waters of the lagoon.
«How many men would be required?» he asked at last.