"Misericordia!" cried the voice—"Socorro! Por Dios!"
It was the Mexican whom Hodges had knocked into the water, and who, by means of the tree, had saved himself from drowning.
"Turn the boat!" cried Hodges, "your countryman is still alive."
"Es verdad!" exclaimed the desperadoes, and the boat was turned—Meanwhile the negro had come gradually to himself, and now crouched down at the feet of his deliverer. He peered over the gunwale at the half-drowned Mexican.
"Gor-a-mighty, Massa!" cried he, seizing the Englishman's oar—"dat Miguel—trike him dead, Massa; Miguel very bad mans."
"Keep still, Pompey!" answered Hodges, pulling with might and main to the assistance of the Mexican. The boat shot alongside the floating tree, and the half-drowned wretch had just sufficient strength left to extend his hand, which the Englishman grasped.
"Take care, Massa! the pirates will kill us both," cried the negro.
At that moment the boat received a violent shock, a wave dashed over it, and threw the Mexican on the gunwale, across which he lay more dead than alive.
"Lay hold of him!" said Hodges to the negro.
"Ah, Pompey not such dam' fool—Pompey lub Massa too much. The others don't row. Look, Massa, they only wait to kill Massa."