“Silence!” he commanded, in a sharp whisper. “Look! there he comes. Don’t even call him by his name. Wait and hear what he has to say. He can tell us what has become of the bark. They are a used-up lot of men.”
So they were, the five who now came walking slowly along from somewhere or other on the coast upon which the disastrous storm had blown.
“Captain Kemp and the crew of his life-boat,” thought Ned, but he obeyed the señor at first, and was silent until the haggard-looking party arrived and came to a halt in front of him. Then, however, he lost his prudence for a moment, and anxiously inquired:
“Were any of you drowned?”
“Not any of us that are here,” responded the captain, grimly. “No, nor any other of the Goshawk men, but there are more wrecks in sight below, and I don’t know how many from them got ashore. Our bark stranded this side of them, and she’s gone all to pieces. We took to the life-boat in time, but we’ve had a hard pull of it. We went ashore through the breakers, about six miles below this, and here we are, but I don’t want to ever pass such another night. I’m going on down to the consul’s now, to report, and Ned had better be there as soon as he can. Then, the sooner he’s out o’ Vera Cruz, the better for him and all of us.”
“I think so myself,” said Señor Zuroaga. “Don’t even stay here for breakfast. Nobody from here must come to the consul’s with Señor Carfora.”
“Of course not,” said the captain, wearily, and away he went, although Ned felt as if he were full to bursting with the most interesting kind of questions concerning the captain’s night in the life-boat and the sad fate of the swift and beautiful Goshawk.
“Come into the house,” said the señor, “and put on your Mexican rig. I have a message from Colonel Guerra that we must get away to-night. I must not bring any peril upon the Tassara family. Up to this hour no enemy knows that I was a passenger on the powder-boat, as they call it.”
“All right,” said Ned. “I’ll write one more letter home. I couldn’t get out of the city in any other way just now, and I want to see Mexico.”
That idea was growing upon him rapidly, but his next errand was to the señor’s own room, to put on what he called his disguise. He followed his friend to a large, handsome chamber in the further end of the house, and, as he entered it, his first thought was: