He stood fondling the garment lovingly, the expression of his face so solemnly interested, I had difficulty in suppressing a laugh.

“Some change in your trade, Gunsaules.  Did you take this one up from choice?  You do not look to me like a fighting man.”

He glanced apprehensively at the open door, speaking even lower than before, if possible.

“No more am I, Senor.  The blood make me faint.  I go hungry in Santo Domingo—­God forgive me for ever going there!—­and, to keep from starving I took this job.”

“With Sanchez, or before the bark was captured?”

“Before, Senor.  The captain’s name was Schmitt.  Not since have I been ashore, but they spare me because I was Spanish.”

I would have asked the fellow more, perhaps even have tested him in his loyalty to his new masters; but I felt this was neither place nor time.  Estada might return, and besides the man was evidently a poor-spirited creature, little apt to be of service even if he so desired.

“The clothes seem to be all right, Steward,” I said rather briskly, “and I judge will fit.  Now hunt me up first of all something to shave with, then some tobacco and a pipe and—­yes, wait a second; writing materials.”

“Yes, Senor.”

“And, by the way, there are two staterooms astern.  Who occupies the one to starboard—­Senor Estada?”

“No Senor; it is the young lady.”

“Oh, the one brought aboard last night.  Have you seen her?” “Si, Senor; she is English, and good to look at, but she sit and stare out the stern port.  She will not speak or eat.  I take in her breakfast, but she touch not a morsel.  So I tell Senor Estada, and he say, ’then bring her out to dinner with me; I’ll make the hussy eat, if I have to choke it down her dainty throat,’”

“Good; I’ll have a look at her myself then.  Now hurry up those things, Steward, and remember what I sent you after.”

He brought the shaving set, and writing materials first, explaining that he would have to go down into the lazaret, and break open some packages for the tobacco and pipe.  The moment the fellow disappeared I grasped the opportunity.  Where Estada had gone, whether back into his stateroom, or on deck, I had no means of knowing.  In fact this could make little difference, for it was not likely he would leave me alone for any great length of time.  It must already be approaching the end of LeVere’s watch, and I would certainly be called upon to relieve him.  And, following my turn on deck would be dinner in the cabin, and the probable encounter with Dorothy.  This clearly meant that I must communicate with the girl immediately, or not at all.  I dashed off a note hurriedly—­a brief line merely stating my presence on board, and begging her not to exhibit surprise at meeting me.  I had no time in which to explain, or make clear the situation.  With this folded and concealed in my hand, I silently pushed open the door, and took a hasty glance about the cabin.