Guert had visited the shore, and his friends, in turn, had visited him, to be also liberally entertained at the plantation. Nothing but the great need for secrecy had prevented more extended inland hospitalities to the brave Americanos who had destroyed the picaroon. The highest authorities on the island were quite ready to acknowledge so important a public service, and no Spaniard, official or otherwise, was at all likely to help the British capture the Noank.
Guert had been promised information of any change in the prospect for cruising. He had learned, too, that this kind of lying in ambush was altogether a customary feature of all piracy or privateering among the Antilles. Captain Avery had expected it, and had considered himself fortunate in getting so good a lagoon to lurk in. The Tigress and the Hermione were enemies which it would not do to trifle with. Moreover, he had been kept well advised of the goings on in the harbor of Porto Rico, and he knew all about the English merchantmen who were discharging or taking in cargoes. One subject in particular had greatly interested the young American sailor, for there were a great many dark-skinned laborers upon the Paez and the neighboring plantations.
"If all the slaves are as well treated as they are here," Guert had thought, "they are a great deal better off than they ever were in Africa. I don't want to see any such thing in America, though. I'm sorry it's there. We don't want any more slave trade. Too many of 'em die on the way from Africa."
His ideas, of course, were very raw and incomplete. He was only a boy, and he could not see all of the mischief. He had watched the colored people in their huts, away off behind the plantation house. He had seen them at work in the fields. They seemed to be fat, merry, and not at all discontented. As for their Spanish owners, nothing could be more easy-going and careless than their way of life. Their only apparent difficulty appeared to be in finding something to do. Guert himself found enough, for all this thing was entirely new to him. He enjoyed especially his horseback rides around the country, along forest roads, and into wonderfully lovely nooks of semi-tropical vegetation. He was all the while picking up Spanish words with great rapidity, for there was no other language to be heard, except queer African dialects among the slaves. He progressed all the better, too, because of having made a pretty good beginning before coming there. On the whole, however, his plantation days seemed a long time to look back upon, and here he stood, in the veranda, disposed to consider his situation seriously.
"What!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Could I stay here and think of the Noank being out there in a fight? My own mother'd be ashamed of me, if I did!"
A light hand was on his shoulder, and a soft, kindly voice said to him:—
"My dear young friend! If I were your mother, I should feel as you say she would. I would have my brave son fighting for his country."
"O Señora Paez!" said Guert, whirling to look into her venerable face, "you all have been so good to me! But I cannot stay here while our war for liberty is going on."
Before she could speak again, a loud hail came up to them from the gateway at the road, and a man on horseback dashed in at a gallop.
"Señora Paez," said Guert, excitedly, "it's Vine Avery! Something's happened."