“By all means let them come on board here,” said the captain of the frigate, anxious to get the prisoners out of the power of such a ruffian. “I will send an officer and a boat to conduct them.”
A boat was lowered; one of the lieutenants jumped into it, and soon returned from the felucca with the persons Tacon had described. They were helped up the frigate’s side, and the old man advanced, with his daughter leaning on his arm, and followed by the priest, who, though concealed by those in front, was, by peering out on one side, able to take a steady survey of the officers on the quarter-deck.
The captain received the marquis and his daughter with great politeness.
“We have already ladies on board, and I hope mademoiselle will have no cause to complain of her treatment while on board the ship, though our accommodation is somewhat limited.”
Mrs Armytage and Edda signed to the young lady to come to them, and she advanced at once, glad to find herself in the society of some of her own sex, whose countenances showed that they were worthy of her confidence.
The marquis stood alone, and the old priest was seen behind him.
No sooner did the eyes of the captain fall on him than he exclaimed, “What! Father Mendez is it you still on this side the grave? I meet you very opportunely, for of all people you were the one I desired to see. What! do you not recollect your old shipmate?”
“Perfectly,” answered the priest in a low tone; “but I should have thought, Pedro Alvarez, that I was the person of all others you would have been most desirous of avoiding—I, who am cognisant of your crimes, of the sacrilege you have committed, of your traitorous conduct—you, an outcast from the bosom of our Holy Mother Church—even now I find you in command of a ship belonging to the enemies of our country. If I speak, it must be to pronounce the curse of our Holy Church and of Heaven on your head.”
“Hold, father! you are going ahead too fast,” exclaimed the old seaman, bluntly; “I have braved the curses of your Church too long to care for them; those of Heaven—Heaven alone can pronounce or inflict; but call not one a traitor who was unjustly driven from his country, and has never ceased to love her. However, you are an ancient comrade, and as such have the privilege of speaking freely. I wish to be on friendly terms with you and every human being. I am never happier with the feeling that I have made an enemy. But, as I was saving, I rejoice to meet you, for you can render me a service which will enable me to accomplish an object which has been nearer my heart than any other in the world.”
The English prisoners, as well as the marquis and his daughter, were near.