"It looks kind o' rugged for us," thought Guert. "We can't run into port at all. If we did we'd never get out again."
The captain of the Santa Teresa was keeping his promise. His ship was taking in sail, and a well-manned boat was lowering from her side.
"Here they come," said Guert. "We'll know more when they get here."
"No," said Up-na-tan. "Ole chief see frigate himself. Know what do. All Cap'n Avery want is Carib pilot. Tell him where go. Up-na-tan know Cuba lagoons, not Porto Rico. So Coco."
On came the Spanish boat, and as it drew nearer they could recognize Captain Velasquez himself in the stern-sheets, ready to answer their hail.
"Señor," he said to Vine Avery, "there is one more British cruiser, farther in. Pedro, here, will go back with you and pilot your schooner to a safe mooring, up the coast. Only friends will come to see you there. You may watch for a green flag on the shore, or a green light after dark."
"Thank you, señor," said Vine. "All right. Let him come aboard."
Lightly as a panther, with wonderful quickness of motion, a short, slight, dark-faced fellow sprang over into the cutter.
"Me Pedro," he said. "Fight for Americano. Save he troat from picaroon."
The Carib, therefore, could make himself understood in English, and he was eager to express his personal gratitude for his rescue from pirates and sharks.