n Jamaica, after
the episode at the Ferry Inn with the admiral. It was as if, now, he had
a weight on his mind. I was tired. I said:

"Two dead men is more than you or any of your crew can show. And, as far
as I can judge, you did no more than hold your own till I came."

He positively stuttered, "Yes, yes. But..."

I got angry with what seemed stupid obstinacy.

"You'd be having a rope twisted tight round your head, or red-hot irons
at the soles of your feet, at this very moment, if it had not been for
us," I said indignantly.

He wiped his forehead perplexedly. "Phew, how you do talk!" he
remonstrated. "What I mean is that my wife..." He stopped again, then
went on. "She took it into her head to come with me this voyage. For the
first time.... And you two coming alone in an open boat like this! It's
what she isn't used to."

I simply couldn't get at what he meant; I couldn't even hear him very
well, because Manuel-del-Popolo was still calling out to Seraphina in
the cabin. Williams and I looked at each other--he embarrassed, and I
utterly confounded.

"Mrs. Williams thinks it's irregular," Sebright broke in, "you and
your young lady being alone--in an open boat at night, and that sort of
thing. It isn't what they approve of at Bristol."

Manuel suddenly bellowed out, "Senorita--save me from their barbarity.
I am a victim. Behold their bloody knives ready--and their eyes which
gloat."

He shrank convulsively from the fellow with the bundle of cutlasses
under his arm, who innocently pushed his way close to him; he threw
himself forward, the two sailors hung back on his arms, nearly sitting
on the deck, and he strained dog-like in his intense fear of immediate
death. Williams, however, really seemed to want an answer to his
absurdity that I could not take very seriously. I said:

"What do you expect us to do? Go back to our boat, or what?"

It seemed to affect him a good deal. "Wait till you are caught by a good
woman yourself," he mumbled wretchedly.

Was this the roystering Williams? The jolly good fellow? I wanted to
laugh, a little hysterically, because of the worry after great fatigue.
Was his wife such a terrifying virago? "A good woman," Williams insisted.
I turned my eyes to Sebright, who looked on amusedly.

"It's all right," he answered my questioning look. "She's a good soul,
but she doesn't see fellows like us in the congregation she worships
with at home." Then he whispered in my ear, "Owner'