Whereupon the fellow whom Ludar had flogged hobbled up in a white heat, and proclaimed his wrongs to heaven and earth, accusing us of being on the Rata for treasonable purposes, and vowing, even, he had heard us plot to get at the powder and blow up the ship.
Before we could say a word up came a messenger from the Don himself, who, on hearing the story, ordered us to accompany him forthwith to his Excellency.
I could not help observing, as we marched abaft, the gloom which seemed to have fallen on the ship. Not that the gay young lordlings did not still swagger and laugh; but it seemed to me their mirth was more hollow than it had been, and, when now and again a sullen shot out of the darkness behind whizzed through the rigging or rattled on the hull, they ground their teeth angrily and swore in their grand Spanish style at the fate that kept them beyond arms’ length of the foe.
Don Alonzo stood on the quarter-deck, gazing earnestly in the direction of his admiral’s lanthorns, and between whiles discussing some grave matter with the lieutenants.
We stood a long time before he had leisure to attend to us. Then he beckoned to the officer to bring us forward. When he saw who we were, he knitted his brows and demanded to know the cause of the uproar in the forecastle.
Whereupon Ludar, his face still streaming with blood, saluted and said:
“Master Don, yonder is one of your lads,” (pointing to the smarting Spaniard), “who has mistaken a guest of his Majesty your King for one of his own galley-slaves, and struck me. I have chastised him, as he deserves, and thrown his whip overboard. If that be a crime in your country, I pray you hang me at once; for I shall not promise not to do the same thing again to-morrow if he touches me. As for my comrade here, he has done naught but help me defend myself from a score of your brave fellows who thought it not unworthy of their honour to set on us two.”
“That I so offended,” broke in I, rather foolishly, “is the fault of my being an Englishman, not a Spaniard, Sir Don.”
Then the fellow whom Ludar had flogged suddenly found words and broke out in a torrent of rage with his accusations, which grew as he went on, and bade fair—had he but had breath to make an end of them—to picture us as very fiends.
’Twas a fine sight, by the glare of the swinging lanthorns, to see Don Alonzo stand there, calm and grave, with the admirable curl of his lips deepening as the fellow raved himself out.