“It was just daybreak, Patrono, before we put about,” began the man in Spanish, “that I thought I saw some one gliding along towards the fore-hatch; but I lost sight of him.  After we had tumbled up to go on the other tack, I heard a noise in the fore-hold.  I went down and found him,” pointing to Hurlstone, “hiding there.  He had some provisions stowed away beside him, and that package.  I grabbed him, Patrono.  He broke away and struck me here”—­he pointed to his still wet bandage—­“and would have got out overboard through the port, but the second mate heard the row and came down just in time to stop him.”

“When was this?” asked Senor Perkins.

“Guardia di Diana.”

“You were chattering, you fellows.”

“Quien sabe?” said the Peruvian, lifting his shoulders.

“How does he explain himself?”

“He refuses to speak.”

“Take off his irons,” said Senor Perkins, in English.

“But”—­expostulated the first mate, with a warning gesture.

“I said—­take off his irons,” repeated Senor Perkins in a dry and unfamiliar voice.

The two mates released the shackles.  The prisoner raised his eyes to Senor Perkins.  He was a slightly built man of about thirty, fair-haired and hollow-cheeked.  His short upper lip was lifted over his teeth, as if from hurried or labored breathing; but his features were regular and determined, and his large blue eyes shone with a strange abstraction of courage and fatuity.

“That will do,” continued the Senor, in the same tone.  “Now leave him with me.”

The two mates looked at each other, and hesitated; but at a glance from Perkins, turned, and ascended the ladder again.  The Peruvian alone remained.

“Go!” said the Senor sharply.

The man cast a vindictive look at the prisoner and retreated sullenly.

“Did he tell you,” said the prisoner, looking after the sailor grimly, “that I tried to bribe him to let me go, but that I couldn’t reach his figure?  He wanted too much.  He thought I had some stolen money or valuables here,” he added, with a bitter laugh, pointing to the package that lay beside him.

“And you hadn’t?” said Perkins shortly.

“No.”

“I believe you.  And now, my young friend,” said Perkins, with a singular return of his beaming gentleness, “since those two efficient and competent officers and this energetic but discourteous seaman are gone, would you mind telling me what you were hiding for?”

The prisoner raised his eyes on his questioner.  For the last three weeks he had lived in the small community of which the Senor was a prominent member, but he scarcely recognized him now.

“What if I refuse?” he said.

The Senor shrugged his shoulders.

“Those two excellent men would feel it their duty to bring the Peruvian to the captain, and I should be called to interpret to him.”