By this time the singing had come to an end; the starbowlines, as the starboard watch were then termed, were dropping below; the lady went to the skylight and looked at the time; then, coming up to me, she put her hand out and said:
“Buenas noches, caballero.”
I answered, “Good-night, señorita.”
She shook her head; by the cabin lamplight flowing up through the open frames I saw her smiling. She repeated, “Good-night, caballero” in Spanish. Seeing her wish, I said good-night in the same language, imitating her accent.
“Es admirable!” she exclaimed, and then went toward the companion way, meaning to go below.
But I had resolved that this handsome, amiable, lovely Spanish lady should be made as comfortable on board us as the resources of the brig permitted, and I detained her by a polite gesture while I called to one of the men forward to send Antonio aft. The fellow was turned in and he kept us waiting ten minutes, during which the lady and I stood dumb as a pair of ghosts, she no doubt wondering why I held her on deck, though she did not exhibit the least uneasiness in her bearing so far as I was able to make out in the starlit darkness. When Antonio appeared I requested him to ask the lady if she wished for anything the brig could supply her with. Antonio translated sulkily and sleepily.
“No, señor,” said he, “the lady wants for nothing. She is wearied and entreats permission to retire to rest.”
I was convinced that the villain had manufactured this answer to enable him to return speedily to his own bed. But I was helpless.
When the lady went below I told Antonio to send one of the men out of my watch to relieve Jorge at the wheel, and I then descended into the cabin to make a report to Greaves and to hear how he did. Jimmy was clearing up for the night. I inquired after the captain, and the youth told me he was asleep.
“Has he complained of pain?”