hem, whom
from their port I took to be officers, came towards me and I rose to my
feet to meet them.

'Senor,' said the tallest of them in a soft and gentle voice, 'suffer
me to offer you our felicitations on your wonderful--' and he stopped
suddenly.

Did I still dream, or did I know the voice? Now for the first time I
could see the man's face--it was that of JUAN DE GARCIA! But if I knew
him he also knew me.

'Caramba!' he said, 'whom have we here? Senor Thomas Wingfield I salute
you. Look, my comrades, you see this young man whom the sea has brought
to us. He is no Spaniard but an English spy. The last time that I saw
him was in the streets of Seville, and there he tried to murder me
because I threatened to reveal his trade to the authorities. Now he is
here, upon what errand he knows best.'

'It is false,' I answered; 'I am no spy, and I am come to these seas for
one purpose only--to find you.'

'Then you have succeeded well, too well for your own comfort, perhaps.
Say now, do you deny that you are Thomas Wingfield and an Englishman?'

'I do not deny it. I--'

'Your pardon. How comes it then that, as your companion the priest tells
me, you sailed in Las Cinque Llagas under the name of D'AILA?'

'For my own reasons, Juan de Garcia.'

'You are confused, senor. My name is Sarceda, as these gentlemen can
bear me witness. Once I knew a cavalier of the name of de Garcia, but he
is dead.'

'You lie,' I answered; whereon one of De Garcia's companions struck me
across the mouth.

'Gently, friend,' said de Garcia; 'do not defile your hand by striking
such rats as this, or if you must strike, use a stick. You have
heard that he confesses to passing under a false name and to being an
Englishman, and therefore one of our country's foes. To this I add
upon my word of honour that to my knowledge he is a spy and a would-be
murderer. Now, gentlemen, under the commission of his majesty's
representative, we are judges here, but since you may think that, having
been called a liar openly by this English dog, I might be minded to deal
unjustly with him, I prefer to leave the matter in your hands.'

Now I tried to speak once more, but the Spaniard who had struck me, a
ferocious-looking villain, drew his sword and swore that he would run me
through if I dared to open my lips. So I thought it well to keep silent.

'This Englishman would grace a yardarm very well,' he said.

De Garcia, who had begun to hum a tune indifferen