I stepped across into my stateroom to gain a glimpse out through the port.  Narrow as the vista was it yet revealed a beautiful sea view, the waves running high, but in long billows, with bright sunshine glowing along their crests, the hollows a deep purple.  Above the sky was a pale blue, with scarcely a fleeting cloud visible, and the bark was sailing free, laying well over to the fresh breeze, evidently carrying all the spread of canvas possible.  As I returned to the cabin, Gunsaules awaited me to announce breakfast.

“What already?”

“It is six-thirty, Senor.  Those were my orders.”

“Very well; I suppose Estada and Manuel usually eat first?”

“Si, Senor.”

“That leaves me alone; suppose you rap on the lady’s door yonder, and ask if she will join me.  Say your message is from Senor Gates.”

She came forth immediately fully dressed, but bearing herself with reserve.  On my part I made no effort at greeting, not certain as to what eyes might be observing us through the deck light above, or, for the matter of that, unwilling to face the curiosity of the watchful steward.

“I had you called,” I explained, “because of a disinclination to eat entirely alone.  You were evidently awake?”

“Yes; I have not undressed.  I felt no desire to sleep, although, no doubt I dozed.  The call to breakfast was quite welcome.”

She seated herself opposite me, and we spoke of the weather while Gunsaules served with some skill.  He was still hovering about, but my anxiety to enjoy a word with her alone caused me to send him on a task elsewhere.

“Has Captain Sanchez been attended to yet?” I asked sharply.  “No; then see to him at once.  I have reason to believe he is alone this morning, and will need you.  Yes, we can get along very nicely.”

We waited until he disappeared within the after stateroom, bearing a tray; then her eyes suddenly lifted to mine, filled with questioning.

“Tell me what has happened?” She breathed eagerly.  “I heard the noise of a struggle out here, and voices conversing.  Why are you alone?”

I leaned over to speak in as low a tone as possible.

“I can only explain very briefly.  The man who came into your room last night had just murdered Estada.  LeVere and I found the mate’s body at daylight.  His killing was part of a plot by Manuel, and the buccaneers quartered amidships, to seize the bark.  We have Manuel already prisoner and are preparing to gain possession of the boat ourselves.”

“Who are planning?  You have found friends on board?”

“I have made LeVere believe his only safety lies in assisting me.  I told you about Watkins and the other men forward.  He has picked out a dozen, or so, in whom he has confidence, English sailors mostly and is sounding them out.  I expect him back with a report at any minute.”

“And then what?” her excitement visible in her eyes.  “What can a dozen men do?”