“The one who was aboard the sloop?”

“Of course.  I knew nothing of her, but I have keen eyes, and I have been long with the Senor.  Marked you not how he approached her?  No sea rover ever had greater desire for women, or won them easier.  ’Tis a bright eye and red lip that wins him from all else.  Even to me this one looked a rare beauty; yet am I sorry he found her, for it may delay the task here.”

“Why must you fear that?”

“Bah! but you are stupid.  Who will take by force what may be won by a few soft words?” He paused suddenly, evidently struck by a new thought.  “Yet I think, Manuel, the Captain may have failed in this case.  I watched their greeting, and her’s was not that of love.  If this be true, we strike at once, while it is safe.”

“Here, you mean—­tonight?”

“And why not here, and tonight?  Is there a better spot or time?  With another night the sloop will be far up the Bay, while now from where we are anchored, we could be beyond the Capes by daybreak, with the broad ocean before us.  We are five—­six with the Senor—­and our ship lies but a short league away, ready for sea.  There are only four men on the sloop, with some servants above—­spiritless fellows.  Why else should he have signaled our coming, unless there was work to do?  That will be the plan, to my notion—­the money and the girl in one swoop; then a quick sail to the southward.  Pist! ‘tis boys’ play.”

The other seemed to lick his lips, as though the picture thus drawn greatly pleased him.

“Gracioso Dios!  I hope ’tis so.  It has been dull enough here this month past.  I am for blue water, and an English ship to sack.”

“Or, better yet, a week at Porto Grande—­hey, Manuel?  The girls are not so bad, with clink of gold in the pocket after a cruise.  Wait, though—­there is someone coming down.”

I crouched backward into the bushes, and, a moment later, the newcomer moved past me scarcely a yard distant, along the narrow strip of sand.  He appeared no more than a black shadow, wrapped in a loose cloak, thus rendered so shapeless as to be scarcely recognizable.  Directly opposite my covert he paused peering forward in uncertainty.

“Estada.”  He spoke the name cautiously, and in doubt.

“Ay, Captain,” and another figure, also shapeless, and ill-defined, emerged noiselessly from the gloom.  “We await you.”

“Good,” the tone one of relief.  “I rather questioned if you caught my signal.  I was watched, and obliged to exercise care.  How many have you here?”

“Four, Senor, with Manuel Estevan.”

“Quite sufficient; and how about the others?”

“All safely aboard, Senor; asleep in their bunks by now, but ready.  Francois LeVere has charge of the deck watch.”

“Ah! how happens it the quadroon is with you?  A good choice, yet that must mean the Vengeance is still at Porto Grande.  For what reason?”