The three passengers still remained seated together, the men conversing, and occasionally pointing forth at some object across the water, but, while I watched the little group, the girl made no movement, nor attempt at speech.  None of them even so much as glanced toward me, and I felt that, already, I had been dismissed from their thought, had been relegated to my proper position, had sunken to my future place as a mere servant.  Finally Mistress Dorothy arose to her feet, and, with a brief word of explanation to her uncle, started forward in the direction of the cabin.  A sudden leap of the boat caused her to clutch the rail, and instantly Sanchez was at her side, proffering assistance.  They crossed the dancing deck together, his hand upon her arm, and paused for a moment at the door to exchange a few sentences.  When the Spaniard came back he pointed out to Fairfax the position of the still distant bark, which however was by this time plainly revealed off our port quarter.  The planter stood up in order to see better, and then the two crossed the deck to a position only a few yards from where I stood at the wheel, and remained there, staring out across the intervening water.

“Surely a strange place in which to anchor, Lieutenant,” said Fairfax at last, breaking the silence, his hand shading his eyes.  “Bark rigged, and very heavily sparred.  Seems to be all right.  What do you make of the vessel?”

The Spaniard twisted his moustache, but exhibited little interest, although his gaze was upon the craft.

“Decidedly Dutch I should say,” he answered slowly, “to judge from the shape of her lines, and the size of her spars.  The beggars seem quite at home there, with all their washing out.  Not a usual anchorage?”

“No, nor a particularly safe one.  There are some very heavy seas off that point at times, and there is no plantation near by.  Travers’ place is beyond the bend.  We’ll put up with him tonight; he owns that land yonder, but his wharf is several miles up the coast.  Damn me, Sanchez, I believe I ’ll hail the fellow, and find out what he is doing in there.”

Sanchez nodded, carelessly striking flint and steel in an effort to relight a cheroot, and Fairfax turned his head toward me.

“Oh, is that you, Carlyle?  Where is Sam?”

“Gone forward, sir, half an hour ago.  He decided I was safe.”

The planter laughed, with a side glance toward Sanchez, who gave no sign that he overhead.

“No doubt he was right.  Port your helm a little, and run down as close as seems safe to that fellow out yonder, until I hail him.”

“Very well, sir.”