Antonio put his hand in his pocket and produced a little burning-glass.
“Fielding,” said Greaves, “I am going ashore. Look to the brig and see to the lady. Take her below; let Jimmy put meat and wine upon the table. There’s a spare berth for her, and by and by we will make her comfortable and keep her so till we can dispose of her. I wish she were not here, though.” He made a face. “Go along forward, Antonio, with your companion. D’ye see that big man there? His name is Yan Bol. Ask him to feed you. Hold!”
Antonio and his mate faced about.
“Did you go on board the ship in the cave?”
“What ship, señor?”
“There is a ship in that cave,” said Greaves, pointing. “Did you go on board of her?”
The man placed the sharp of his hand against his brow and looked at the island.
“I know no ship—I know no cave, señor,” said he.
“Go forward and ask that big Dutchman to feed you,” exclaimed Greaves.
“When you think of it,” he continued, addressing me as the men walked forward, “they would not be able to see the cave when on the island. It is clear that they did not notice the ship when they landed on the reef; they were too thirsty, poor devils.”