He gave his orders touching the embarkation of these chests, then led the way to his regally appointed cabin, his four officers and the friar following by particular invitation.

Seated at table there, with the tawny wine before them, and the servant who had poured it withdrawn, Don Miguel laughed and stroked his pointed, grizzled beard.

“Virgen santisima!  That brother of mine has a mind that thinks of everything.  Left to myself, I might have committed a fine indiscretion by venturing aboard his ship at such a moment.  I might have seen things which as Admiral of Spain it would be difficult for me to ignore.”

Both Esteban and Blood made haste to agree with him, and then Blood raised his glass, and drank to the glory of Spain and the damnation of the besotted James who occupied the throne of England.  The latter part of his toast was at least sincere.

The Admiral laughed.

“Sir, sir, you need my brother here to curb your imprudences.  You should remember that His Catholic Majesty and the King of England are very good friends.  That is not a toast to propose in this cabin.  But since it has been proposed, and by one who has such particular personal cause to hate these English hounds, why, we will honour it — but unofficially.”

They laughed, and drank the damnation of King James — quite unofficially, but the more fervently on that account.  Then Don Esteban, uneasy on the score of his father, and remembering that the agony of Don Diego was being protracted with every moment that they left him in his dreadful position, rose and announced that they must be returning.

“My father,” he explained, “is in haste to reach San Domingo.  He desired me to stay no longer than necessary to embrace you.  If you will give us leave, then, sir uncle.”

In the circumstances “sir uncle” did not insist.

As they returned to the ship’s side, Blood’s eyes anxiously scanned the line of seamen leaning over the bulwarks in idle talk with the Spaniards in the cock-boat that waited at the ladder’s foot.  But their manner showed him that there was no ground for his anxiety.  The boat’s crew had been wisely reticent.

The Admiral took leave of them — of Esteban affectionately, of Blood ceremoniously.

“I regret to lose you so soon, Don Pedro.  I wish that you could have made a longer visit to the Encarnacion.”

“I am indeed unfortunate,” said Captain Blood politely.

“But I hope that we may meet again.”

“That is to flatter me beyond all that I deserve.”

They reached the boat; and she cast off from the great ship.  As they were pulling away, the Admiral waving to them from the taffrail, they heard the shrill whistle of the bo’sun piping the hands to their stations, and before they had reached the Cinco Llagas, they beheld the Encarnacion go about under sail.  She dipped her flag to them, and from her poop a gun fired a salute.