“Oh! my scoundrels of sentinels!”

“We landed at the back of the Morro, and lay there all day, being purposed to do that which, with your pardon, we have done.  We took our sails of Indian cloth, whitened them likewise with clay which we had brought with us from the river (expecting to find a Spanish ship as we went along the coast, and determined to attempt her, or die with honor), and laid them over us on the canoes, paddling from underneath them.  So that, had your sentinels been awake, they would have hardly made us out, till we were close on board.  We had provided ourselves, instead of ladders, with bamboos rigged with cross-pieces, and a hook of strong wood at the top of each; they hang at your stern-gallery now.  And the rest of the tale I need not tell you.”

The commandant rose in his courtly Spanish way,—­

“Your admirable story, senor, proves to me how truly your nation, while it has yet, and I trust will ever have, to dispute the palm of valor with our own, is famed throughout the world for ingenuity, and for daring beyond that of mortal man.  You have succeeded, valiant captain, because you have deserved to succeed; and it is no shame to me to succumb to enemies who have united the cunning of the serpent with the valor of the lion.  Senor, I feel as proud of becoming your guest as I should have been proud, under a happier star, of becoming your host.”

“You are, like your nation, only too generous, senor.  But what noise is that outside?  Cary, go and see.”

But ere Cary could reach the door, it was opened; and Evans presented himself with a terrified face.

“Here’s villainy, sir!  The Don’s murdered, and cold; the Indian lass fled; and as we searched the ship for her, we found an Englishwoman, as I’m a sinful man!—­and a shocking sight she is to see!”

“An Englishwoman?” cried all three, springing forward.

“Bring her in!” said Amyas, turning very pale; and as he spoke, Yeo and another led into the cabin a figure scarcely human.

An elderly woman, dressed in the yellow “San Benito” of the Inquisition, with ragged gray locks hanging about a countenance distorted by suffering and shrunk by famine.  Painfully, as one unaccustomed to the light, she peered and blinked round her.  Her fallen lip gave her a half-idiotic expression; and yet there was an uneasy twinkle in the eye, as of boundless terror and suspicion.  She lifted up her fettered wrist to shade her face; and as she did so, disclosed a line of fearful scars upon her skinny arm.

“Look there, sirs!” said Yeo, pointing to them with a stern smile.  “Here’s some of these Popish gentry’s handiwork.  I know well enough how those marks came;” and he pointed to the similar scars on his own wrist.

The commandant, as well as the Englishmen, recoiled with horror.

“Holy Virgin! what wretch is this on board my ship?  Bishop, is this the prisoner whom you sent on board?”