“No, why do you ask?”
“I stepped up yonder stairs just now and saw you talking to the men.”
“It is true. I am captain, Bol is mate, someone must be chosen to take Bol’s place.”
But, oh, the time and difficulty to make her understand this!
“I am very sad to-day, Señor Fielding. The death of the captain makes me think of my mother. Most blessed and very purest Maria, does she live? Shall we meet again? Ay me, ay me,” and here the tears stood in her eye.
“Señorita, this is what I wish to say to you. I have not the fears of the captain who is dead. If we meet a ship of your nation, if we meet a ship of any country sailing to Spain, or proceeding to a port in South America, east or west, I will put you on board her if she will take you.”
“Gracias. I am content to stop.”
“You are alone.”
“It is true, señor.” (Sigh.)
“There are few comforts for you in this ship.”