“That doesn’t count,” Kit said quietly.  “What you have is yours; I expect you earned it hard.”

“I certainly did,” Adam agreed.  “I earned part of what I’ve got by jobs that cost me more than my health.  I’d wipe out some of my early deals, if I could.  Well, I don’t know if playing a straight game on a losing hand will cancel past mistakes, but I feel I’ve got to play it out.  My wad and yours are in the pool.”

“It’s not my wad,” Kit objected.  “You have treated me generously.”

“Oh, well!” said Adam.  “Perhaps I’ll ask you to remember that by and by.  In the meantime, I’ve no use for arguing and am going to stop.  We’ll say no more about it, but if I’m too sick to handle things, you’ll take control.  You know my plans, and that’s enough; I don’t need your promises that you won’t let me down.  Now you can get out.  I’m going to sleep.”

Kit went away, feeling moved, but anxious.  His uncle trusted him and he had got strangely fond of the Buccaneer.  Adam had his faults and his career had been marked by incidents that were hard to justify, but he was staunch to his friends.  Kit did not know how far Alvarez deserved his staunch support, and suspected that Adam was, to some extent, moved by pride.  He meant to make good before he let things go.  Kit resolved that when the old man’s hands lost the grip he would take firm hold.

Next day Adam was obviously worse and when two or three more had passed the doctor looked anxious.  Then, one hot evening, the president brought Kit a letter addressed to his uncle.

“Don Adam is asleep and must not be disturbed,” he said.  “Perhaps you had better read this.  It may be about the Rio Negro.”

Kit opened the envelope and frowned.  The letter was from Mayne, who stated that he had met bad weather soon after leaving port and the racing of the engines in a heavy sea had caused some damage.  He had, however, reached Havana, where he had received the Spanish money, and did not know what to do.  Some time would be required to repair the damage, but it would be risky to resume the voyage with disabled engines.  Kit gave the letter to the president, whose dark face flushed, and for a few moments he stormed with Spanish fury.

“This dog of a sailor has been bought!” he cried, clenching his hands as he walked about the floor.  “If the money does not arrive soon, it will be too late; my soldiers will not take our notes.  Galdar has paid him to ruin me.”

Kit, knowing the emotional character of the half-breeds, let him rage.  Alvarez did not often lose his self-control and he had some grounds for feeling disturbed.  When he stopped, Kit said quietly, “The captain is honest, but if he loses his ship with the guns and money on board, it will not help us much.  If my uncle is better in the morning, I will see what he thinks; if not, I will decide about the orders to send.”