The gunner, a
grizzled old veteran, who had been buccaneering with the great admiral,
turned to his captain. "Thy brother--God preserve him!--would send an
iron messenger with his third salute."

John Drake smiled. "I'll send a gentle one first, Diggory," he said.
He called up Master Jeffreys and Nick Johnson. "Which of ye two speaks
the better Spanish?"

"I had the longer chance to learn the language," replied Nick, ruefully
rubbing the place denuded of an ear; "but Master Timothy doubtless
possesses the choicer collection of words."

"Quantity will serve us better than quality, perhaps. But go, both of
ye, to the commandant and tell him that Captain Drake of the _Golden
Boar_ out of Plymouth will wait upon him at sunrise to-morrow. Take a
ship's boat with four rowers and four archers, and let the Indians
guide you."

A boat was instantly lowered, Nick made the Indians understand what was
required of them, and the deputation rowed ashore. Their comrades
watched them curiously, and an equally interested group of natives
gathered on the shore to await their arrival.

The keel bit into the sand, the two messengers stepped out, and the
escort of archers formed up behind them. The rowers pushed the boat
back so that it floated easily, then shipped their oars and waited.
One of the Indians, proud of his position, strutted importantly at the
head of the small procession. (The unfortunate fellow was soundly
whipped before nightfall for rendering any assistance to the hated
English.) Natives hung about in little groups, but no Spaniard was
seen until the gate of the castle was reached. There a sleepy sentinel
yawned at them until they had repeated for the third time their request
for an interview with the commandant. That officer was indulging in
"siesta" and refused to be disturbed, and the deputation was still on
the outer side of the gate. Master Jeffreys lost his patience and his
temper. "My message to thy master, fellow, was a civil one," he
exclaimed, "and to the effect that Captain Drake of Plymouth, Devon,
England, would honour him by waiting upon him at sunrise to-morrow.
Now, methinks, Captain Drake will come to him in less ceremonious
fashion and without further delay." The irate Devonian turned on his
heel and strode off.

And by so doing he missed the gratification of seeing the effect of his
words. The name of "Drake" twice repeated acted as a talisman on the
slumberous senses of the sentin