“I thought of no trick, Estada.”  I said coldly, now satisfied as to his purpose, and confident of my own power.  “English, or otherwise.  It is well we understand each other.  You would have me as navigator, very well—­at what terms?”

His eyes seemed to narrow, and become darker.

“With rating as first officer, and your fair proportion of all spoils.”

“You mean then to continue the course?  To attack vessels on the high seas?”

“Why not?” sneeringly.  “Are you too white-livered for that sort of job?  If so, then you are no man for me.  It is a long voyage to Porto Grande, and no reason why we should hurry home; the welcome there will be better if we bring chests of gold aboard.  Ay, and the thought will put hope into the hearts of the crew; they are restless now from long waiting.”

“But Captain Sanchez?  You have no surgeon I am told.  Will he not suffer from neglect of his wound?”

“Suffer?  No more than under a leech ashore.  All that can be done, has been.  There are men aboard able to treat any ordinary wound.  His was a clean knife thrust, which has been washed, treated with lotion, and bound up.  No leech could do more.”

“And my quarters—­will they be aft?”

“You will have your choice of those at port.  Come now—­have you an answer ready?”

“I would be a fool not to have,” heartily.  “I am your man Estada.”

CHAPTER XIV

I WARN DOROTHY

The Portuguese, evidently well pleased at my prompt acceptance of his proposal, talked on for some time, explaining to me something of the situation aboard the Namur, and pointing out what he believed to be our position on the chart.  I asked a few questions, although I paid but little attention to what he said, my mind being busied with searching out his real purpose.  No doubt the situation was very nearly as he described it to be—­LeVere was no navigator, and Estada himself only an indifferent one.  Yet at that the course to the West Indies was not a long one, and, if the Portuguese had been able to bring the bark from there to the Chesapeake, the return voyage should not terrify him greatly.  No, that was not the object; he was planning to keep at sea, to waylay and attack merchant ships, and then, after a successful cruise, arrive at Porto Grande, laden with spoils, and hailed as a great leader.  His plan was to dispose of Sanchez—­even to permit the Spaniard to die of his wounds; possibly even to hasten and assure that death by some secret resort to violence.  No doubt LeVere was also concerned in the conspiracy, and would profit by it, and possibly these two were likewise assured of the cooperation of the more reckless spirits among the crew.  I remembered what Watkins had whispered to me forward—­his suspicions of them both.  He had been right; already the fuse was being laid, and, very fortunately, I happened to be chosen to help touch it off.  The chance I had sought blindly, was being plainly revealed.