“Yes; this is a chance which I happen to know he has long been waiting for.  The only question is, has he the nerve to act.  I doubt if he has alone, but LeVere is with him, and that half-breed would cut the throat of his best friend.  You understand?—­the death of Sanchez would make Estada chief.  The two men hate each other—­why not?  There was a plan before which failed; this time it may not fail.”

“But,” I interposed, “in that case what would the crew do?”

“Accept Estada, no doubt; at least the cut-throats would be with him, for he is of their sort.  All they care for is blood and booty.  But Sanchez’s death would save you from discovery, and,” his voice still lower, so that I barely distinguished the words, “in the confusion aboard, if we were ready, the Namur might be so disabled as to compel them to run her ashore for repairs.  That would give you a chance.  If once we reach Porto Grande there is no hope.”

A marling-spike pounded on the scuttle, and Haines’ voice roared down.

“Port watch!  Hustle out bullies!”

CHAPTER XIII

I ACCEPT A PROPOSAL

I went on deck with the watch, and mingled with them forward.  No one in authority took any particular notice of me, and I was permitted to take hold with the others at the various tasks.  A Portuguese boatswain asked me who I was, and later reported my presence to LeVere, who had charge of the deck, but the only result was my being set at polishing the gun mounted on the forecastle.  The mulatto did not come forward, and I rejoiced at having my status aboard so easily settled, and being permitted to remain in the same watch with Watkins.

It was a dull gray morning, the gloominess of the overhanging clouds reflected in the water.  Men on lookout were stationed in the fore-top and on the heads, yet the sharpest eyes could scarcely see beyond a half mile in any direction.  The sea came at us in great ocean swells, but the stout bark fought a passage through them, shivering with each blow, yet driven forward on her course by half-reefed sails, standing hard as boards in the sweep of the steady gale.  Two men struggled at the wheel, and there were times when LeVere paused in his promenade from rail to rail to give them a helping hand.  His anxiety was evidenced by his hailing the mast-head every few moments, only to receive each time the same response.  The mist failed to lift, but seemed to shut us in more closely with every hour, the wind growing continually more boisterous, but LeVere held on grimly.  I was kept at the guns during the entire time of our watch.  Besides the Long Tom forward, a vicious piece, two swivel guns were on each side, completely concealed by the thick bulwarks, and to be fired through ports, so ingeniously closed as to be imperceptible a few yards away.  All these pieces of ordnance were kept covered by tarpaulin so that at a little distance the Namur of Rotterdam appeared like a peaceful Dutch trader.