“Safety!” growled the captain. “And to inquire how and when they can find their way out of this city of robbers. I hear that a whole regiment is to be on guard duty to-night, and that the mob is to be put down. If I ever see your father again, I’ll explain to him why I sent you away.”
Before Ned could make any further remarks, he was introduced to the vice-consul, a dapper, smiling little man, who did not appear to be in the least disturbed by his unpleasant surroundings. Almost a score of papers, larger and smaller, required the signature of the young supercargo of the unfortunate Goshawk. They were speedily signed, although without any clear idea in Ned’s mind as to what they all were for, and then Captain Kemp took him by the arm and led him away into a corner of the room.
“Ned, my boy,” he said, “you see how it is. You must keep away from the seacoast for awhile. After things are more settled, you can come back and get away on a British, or French, or Dutch vessel, if the port isn’t too closely blockaded. Whether I shall get out alive or not, I don’t know. You haven’t enough money. I’ll let you have a couple of hundred dollars more in Mexican gold. You’d better not let anybody suspect that you carry so much with you. This country contains too many patriots who would cut their own President’s throat for a gold piece. Don’t ever show more than one shiner at a time, or you may lose it all.”
Ned took the two little bags that were so cautiously delivered to him, and while he was putting them away in the inner pockets of his jacket, his mind was giving him vivid pictures of the knives and machetes and their bearers, whom he had seen in the street.
“Captain,” he said, “those fellows out there wouldn’t wait for any gold. A silver dollar would buy one of them.”
“Half a dollar,” replied the captain. “Not one of them is worth a shilling. They ought all to be shot. But look here. I mustn’t come to Colonel Tassara’s place again. I find that he is under some kind of suspicion already, and President Paredes makes short work of men whom he suspects of plotting against him. Go! Get home!”
“That’s just about what I’d like to do,” said Ned to himself, as he hurried out of the consulate, but the next moment his courage began to come back to him, for here was Señor Zuroaga’s ferocious-looking follower, and with him were four others, who might have been his cousins or his brothers, from their looks, for they all were Oaxaca Indians, of unmixed descent. Their tribe had faithfully served the children and grandchildren of Hernando Cortes, the Conquistador, from the day when he and his brave adventurers cut their way into the Tehuantepec valley.