Ludar’s hand and mine sought one another, and, as we waited thus, we could see above us the noble form of Don Alonzo, cool and impassive as a man on parade, saluting his King’s ensign for the last time.
Then all I remember was a great yell from the slaves at the poop, and the dull thunder of a broadside, as the Gerona fell crashing to her doom.
It was broad daylight when I opened my eyes and saw the sun struggling to break through the black clouds overhead. The thunder of waves still dinned in my ear, the salt wind was still on my lips, while a sharp pain at my shoulder, when I turned my head to look about me, told me that I was at least alive.
The pain was so acute that I closed my eyes again, and opened them not till I heard the sound of a harsh voice at my side.
What it said I know not, but some one turned me over with his foot, and brought from me a cry of agony which made him reel a pace or two back in consternation.
Then, just as I heard another voice, in plain English, say, “Great God, he lives!” all was dim again before my eyes. Once more the pain awaked me; and I found myself lying, I suppose, on some stretcher, being slowly borne on men’s shoulders up a steep path. I was too weak to do aught but groan, and my groans my bearers heard not. But at last the English voice said; “Halt, and set him down. He may be dead already and so save us the pains of carrying him further.”
’Twas a voice I knew; but the agony of my setting down made me forget whose, until once more bending over me, and putting back the hair from my brow, the fellow exclaimed:
“Why, this is—mercy on us!—if it be not him they called Dexter.”
“What!” cried another voice, “doth Neptunus yield us pearls? and on these inhospitable shores doth Arion indeed discover his lost ’prentice? hath the Hollander wings to carry—”
“A curse on thy tom-fooling tongue!” said the other. “Hath not the poor wretch had drenching enough, that you must spout thus on the top of him? Say, Humphrey Dexter, how fare you?”