It was young Espinosa who answered this: 

“My father is afflicted at denying himself that honour and pleasure.  But unfortunately, sir uncle, he is a little indisposed — oh, nothing grave; merely sufficient to make him keep his cabin.  It is a little fever, the result of a slight wound taken in the recent raid upon Barbados, which resulted in this gentleman’s happy deliverance.”

“Nay, nephew, nay,” Don Miguel protested with ironic repudiation.  “I can have no knowledge of these things.  I have the honour to represent upon the seas His Catholic Majesty, who is at peace with the King of England.  Already you have told me more than it is good for me to know.  I will endeavour to forget it, and I will ask you, sirs,” he added, glancing at his officers, “to forget it also.”  But he winked into the twinkling eyes of Captain Blood; then added matter that at once extinguished that twinkle.  “But since Diego cannot come to me, why, I will go across to him.”

For a moment Don Esteban’s face was a mask of pallid fear.  Then Blood was speaking in a lowered, confidential voice that admirably blended suavity, impressiveness, and sly mockery.

“If you please, Don Miguel, but that is the very thing you must not do — the very thing Don Diego does not wish you to do.  You must not see him until his wounds are healed.  That is his own wish.  That is the real reason why he is not here.  For the truth is that his wounds are not so grave as to have prevented his coming.  It was his consideration of himself and the false position in which you would be placed if you had direct word from him of what has happened.  As your excellency has said, there is peace between His Catholic Majesty and the King of England, and your brother Don Diego....”  He paused a moment.  “I am sure that I need say no more.  What you hear from us is no more than a mere rumour.  Your excellency understands.”

His excellency frowned thoughtfully.  “I understand... in part,” said he.

Captain Blood had a moment’s uneasiness.  Did the Spaniard doubt his bona fides?  Yet in dress and speech he knew himself to be impeccably Spanish, and was not Don Esteban there to confirm him?  He swept on to afford further confirmation before the Admiral could say another word.

“And we have in the boat below two chests containing fifty thousand pieces of eight, which we are to deliver to your excellency.”

His excellency jumped; there was a sudden stir among his officers.

“They are the ransom extracted by Don Diego from the Governor of....”

“Not another word, in the name of Heaven!” cried the Admiral in alarm.  “My brother wishes me to assume charge of this money, to carry it to Spain for him?  Well, that is a family matter between my brother and myself.  So, it can be done.  But I must not know....”  He broke off.  “Hum!  A glass of Malaga in my cabin, if you please,” he invited them, “whilst the chests are being hauled aboard.”