ed, and who might do you some
injury, you would feel it your duty to inform those who sent you of the
presence of my ship, and thus precipitate a collision between my
friends and yours, which would be promotive of ill-feeling, and perhaps
bloodshed. You know my peaceful disposition, Mr. Hurlstone; you can
hardly expect me to countenance an act of folly that would be in
violation of it."

"In other words, having decoyed me here on board your ship, you intend
to detain me," said Hurlstone insultingly.

"'Decoy,'" said Perkins, in gentle deprecation, "'decoy' is hardly the
word I expected from a gentleman who has been so unfortunate as to take,
unsolicited and of his own free will, another person's place in a boat.
But," he continued, assuming an easy argumentative attitude, "let us
look at it from your view-point. Let us imagine that YOUR ship had
anticipated mine, and that MY messenger had unwittingly gone on board of
HER. What do you think they would have done to him?"

"They would have hung him at the yard-arm, as he deserved," said
Hurlstone unflinchingly.

"You are wrong," said Perkins gently. "They would have given him the
alternative of betraying his trust, and confessing everything--which he
would probably have accepted. Pardon me!--this is no insinuation against
you," he interrupted,--"but I regret to say that my experience with the
effete Latin races of this continent has not inspired me with confidence
in their loyalty to trust. Let me give you an instance," he continued,
smiling: "the ship you are expecting is supposed to be an inviolable
secret of the Church, but it is known to me--to my friends ashore--and
even to you, my poor friend, a heretic! More than that, I am told that
the Comandante, the Padre, and Alcalde are actually arranging to deport
some of the American women by this vessel, which has been hitherto
sacred to the emissaries of the Church alone. But you probably know
this--it is doubtless part of your errand. I only mention it to convince
you that I have certainly no need either to know your secrets, to hang
you from the yard-arm if you refused to give them up, or to hold you
as hostage for my messenger, who, as I have shown you, can take care of
himself. I shall not ask you for that secret despatch you undoubtedly
carry next your heart, because I don't want it. You are at liberty to
keep it until you can deliver it, or drop it out of that port-hole
into the sea--as you choose. But I hear the