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· entering, and thought of the home I had left so eagerly. After all, I was no more than a boy, and even younger in mind than in body.
Queer-looking boats crawled between the shores like tiny water beetles. One headed out towards us, then another. I did not want them to reach us. It was as) if I did not wish my solitude to be disturbed, and I want not pleased with the idea of going ashore. A great ship, floating high on the water, black and girt with the two broad yellow streaks of her double tier of guns, glided out slowly from beyond a cluster of shipping in the bay. She passed without a hail, going out under her topsails with a flag at the fore. Her lofty spars overtopped our masts immensely, and I saw the men in her rigging looking down on our decks. The only sounds that came out of her were the piping of boatswain's calls and the tramping of feet. Imagining her to be going home, I felt a great desire to be on board. Ultimately, as it turned out, I went home in that veryta ship, but then it was too late. I was another man b that time, with much queer knowledge and other desires. Whilst I was looking and longing I heard Carlos' Voice behind me asking one of our sailors what ship it was.
“Don't you know a flagship when you see it?” a voice grumbled surlily. “Admiral Rowley's,” it continued. Then it rumbled out some remarks about “pirates, vermin, coast of Cuba.”
Carlos came to the side, and looked after the man-ofwar in the distance.
“You could help us," I heard him mutter.
THERE was a lad called Barnes, a steerage passe of about my own age, a raw, red-headed Northumb yokel, going out as a recruit to one of the West In regiments. He was a serious, strenuous youth, ar had talked a little with him at odd moments. In great loneliness I went to say good-by to him after I definitely parted with Carlos.
I had been in our cabin. A great bustle of sh going, of leave-taking had sprung up all over the s Carlos and Castro had entered with a tall, immol gold-spectacled Spaniard, dressed all in white, with a certain air of noticing and attentive defere: bowing a little as he entered the cabin in earnest con ence with Tomas Castro. Carlos had preceded t] with a certain nonchalance, and the Spaniard—it the Señor Ramon, the merchant I had heard , regarded him as if with interested curiosity. V Tomas he seemed already familiar. He stood in doorway, against the strong light, bowing a little.
With a certain courtesy, touched with indifferei Carlos made him acquainted with me. Ramon tur his searching, quietly analytic gaze upon me.
“But is the caballero going over, too?” he asked. Carlos said, “No. I think not, now."
And at that moment the second mate, shouldering way through a white-clothed crowd of shore people, m up behind Señor Ramon. He held a letter in his ha
“I am going over,” he said, in his high nasal vo and with a certain ferocity.
Ramon looked round apprehensively.
Carlos said, “The señor, my cousin, wishes for a Mr. Macdonald. You know him, señor?”
Ramon made a dry gesture of perfect acquaintance. “I think I have seen him just now,” he said. “I will make inquiries.”
All three of them had followed him, and became lost in the crowd. It was then, not knowing whether I should ever see Carlos again, and with a desperate, unhappy feeling of loneliness, that I had sought out Barnes in the dim immensity of the steerage.
In the square of wan light that came down the scuttle he was cording his hair-trunk-unemotional and very matter-of-fact. He began to talk in an everyday voice about his plans. An uncle was going to meet him, and to house him for a day or two before he went to the barracks.
“Mebbe we'll meet again,” he said. “I'll be here many years, I think.”
He shouldered his trunk and climbed unromantically up the ladder. He said he would look for Macdonald for me.
It was absurd to suppose that the strange ravings of the second mate had had an effect on me. “Hanged! Pirates!” Was Carlos really a pirate, or Castro, his humble friend? It was vile of me to suspect Carlos. A couple of men, meeting by the scuttle, began to talk loudly, every word coming plainly to my ears in the stillness of my misery, and the large deserted steerage. One of them, new from home, was asking questions. Another answered:
“Oh, I lost half a seroon the last voyage—the old thing.”
“Haven't they routed out the scoundrels yet?” the other asked.
The first man lowered his voice. I caught only tl “the admiral was an old fool-no good for this j He's found out the name of the place the pirates co from-Rio Medio. That's the place, only he can't in at it with his three-deckers. You saw his flagship
Rio Medio was the name of the town to which Car was going—which his uncle owned. They mot away from above.
What was I to believe? What could this mes But the second mate's, “Scoot, young man," seen to come to my ears like the blast of a trumpet. I came suddenly intensely anxious to find Macdonal to see no more of Carlos.
From above came suddenly a gruff voice in Spani “Señor, it would be a great folly.”
Tomas Castro was descending the ladder gingei He was coming to fetch his bundle. I went hast into the distance of the vast, dim cavern of spare ro that served for the steerage. . “I want him very much,” Carlos said. “I like h He would be of help to us.”
"It's as your worship wills,” Castro said gruf They were both at the bottom of the ladder. “] an Englishman there would work great mischief. A this youth
“I will take him, Tomas," Carlos said, laying a ha on his arm.
“Those others will think he is a spy. I know the Castro muttered. “They will hang him, or work sc devil's mischief. You do not know that Irish judg the canaille, the friend of priests.”
“He is very brave. He will not fear,” Carlos si
I came suddenly forward. “I will not go with yo I said, before I had reached them even.
Castro started back as if he had been stung, 1 caught at the wooden hand that sheathed his steel blade.
"Ah, it is you, Señor," he said, with an air of relief and dislike. Carlos, softly and very affectionately, began inviting me to go to his uncle's town. His uncle, he was sure, would welcome me. Jamaica and a planter's life were not fit for me.
I had not then spoken very loudly, or had not made my meaning very clear. I felt a great desire to find Macdonald, and a simple life that I could understand.
“I am not going with you," I said, very loudly this time.
He stopped at once. Through the scuttle of the half-deck we heard a hubbub of voices, of people exchanging greetings, of Christian names called out joyously. A tumultuous shuffling of feet went on continuously over our heads. The ship was crowded with people from the shore. Perhaps Macdonald was amongst them, even looking for me.
“Ah, amigo mio, but you must now,” said Carlos gently—"you must — ” And, looking me straight in the face with a still, penetrating glance of his big, romantic eyes, “It is a good life," he whispered seductively, “and I like you, John Kemp. You are youngvery young yet. But I love you very much for your own sake, and for the sake of one I shall never see again.”
He fascinated me. He was all eyes in the dusk, standing in a languid pose just clear of the shaft of light that fell through the scuttle in a square patch.
I lowered my voice, too. “What life?” I asked.
“Life in my uncle's palace,” he said, so sweetly and persuasively that the suggestiveness of it caused a thrill in me.
His uncle could nominate me to posts of honour fit for a caballero.