He started, deliberated an instant, and answered, "The Boca del Dragon."[2]
"A Spaniard?"
He nodded.
"She was a pirate?" said I.
"How do you know that?" he cried with a sudden fierceness.
"Sir," said I, "I am a British sailor who has used the sea for some years, and know the difference between a handspike and a poop-lanthorn. But what matters? She is a pirate no longer."
He let his eyes fall from my face and gazed round him with the air of one who cannot yet persuade his understanding of the realities of the scene he moves in.
"Tut!" cried he presently, addressing himself, "what matters the truth, as you say? Yes, the Boca del Dragon is a pirate. You have of course rummaged her, and guessed her character by what you found?"
"I met with enough to excite my suspicion," said I. "The ship's company of such a craft as this do not usually go clothed in lace and rich cloaks, and carry watches of this kind," tapping my breast, "in their fobs and handfuls of gold in their pockets."
"Unless——" said he.