“Ah!  And I suppose all the others of this lubberly crew share your ignorance.”

“It would be more amiable of you to suppose that they exceed it.”

Jeremy pointed ahead to a spot of light in the heavens over the starboard bow.  “That is the North Star,” said he.

“Is it now?  Glory be, I wonder ye can pick it out from the rest.”

“And the North Star ahead almost over your starboard bow means that we’re steering a course, north, northwest, or maybe north by west, for I doubt if we are standing more than ten degrees westward.”

“And why shouldn’t we?” wondered Captain Blood.

“You told me — didn’t you? — that we came west of the archipelago between Tobago and Grenada, steering for Curacao.  If that were our present course, we should have the North Star abeam, out yonder.”

On the instant Mr. Blood shed his laziness.  He stiffened with apprehension, and was about to speak when a shaft of light clove the gloom above their heads, coming from the door of the poop cabin which had just been opened.  It closed again, and presently there was a step on the companion.  Don Diego was approaching.  Captain Blood’s fingers pressed Jerry’s shoulder with significance.  Then he called the Don, and spoke to him in English as had become his custom when others were present.

“Will ye settle a slight dispute for us, Don Diego?” said he lightly.  “We are arguing, Mr. Pitt and I, as to which is the North Star.”

“So?” The Spaniard’s tone was easy; there was almost a suggestion that laughter lurked behind it, and the reason for this was yielded by his next sentence.  “But you tell me Mr. Pitt he is your navigant?”

“For lack of a better,” laughed the Captain, good-humouredly contemptuous.  “Now I am ready to wager him a hundred pieces of eight that that is the North Star.”  And he flung out an arm towards a point of light in the heavens straight abeam.  He afterwards told Pitt that had Don Diego confirmed him, he would have run him through upon that instant.  Far from that, however, the Spaniard freely expressed his scorn.

“You have the assurance that is of ignorance, Don Pedro; and you lose.  The North Star is this one.”  And he indicated it.

“You are sure?”

“But my dear Don Pedro!” The Spaniard’s tone was one of amused protest.  “But is it possible that I mistake?  Besides, is there not the compass?  Come to the binnacle and see there what course we make.”

His utter frankness, and the easy manner of one who has nothing to conceal resolved at once the doubt that had leapt so suddenly in the mind of Captain Blood.  Pitt was satisfied less easily.

“In that case, Don Diego, will you tell me, since Curacao is our destination, why our course is what it is?”