her memory.

"Do try to remember," said Amyas; and she set to work again at once.

"Ayacanora mind great monkeys--black, oh, so high," and she held up her
hand above her head, and made a violent gesture of disgust.

"Monkeys? what, with tails?"

"No, like man. Ah! yes--just like Cooky there--dirty Cooky!"

And that hapless son of Ham, who happened to be just crossing the
main-deck, heard a marlingspike, which by ill luck was lying at hand,
flying past his ears.

"Ayacanora, if you heave any more things at Cooky, I must have you
whipped," said Amyas, without, of course, any such intention.

"I'll kill you, then," answered she, in the most matter-of-fact tone.

"She must mean negurs," said Yeo; "I wonder where she saw them, now.
What if it were they Cimaroons?"

"But why should any one who had seen whites forget them, and yet
remember negroes?" asked Cary.

"Let us try again. Do you mind no great monkeys but those black ones?"
asked Amyas.

"Yes," she said, after a while,--"devil."

"Devil?" asked all three, who, of course, were by no means free from the
belief that the fiend did actually appear to the Indian conjurors, such
as had brought up the girl.

"Ay, him Sir John tell about on Sundays."

"Save and help us!" said Yeo; "and what was he like unto?"

She made various signs to intimate that he had a monkey's face, and
a gray beard like Yeo's. So far so good: but now came a series of
manipulations about her pretty little neck, which set all their fancies
at fault.

"I know," said Cary, at last, bursting into a great laugh. "Sir Urian
had a ruff on, as I live! Trunk-hose too, my fair dame? Stop--I'll make
sure. Was his neck like the senor commandant's, the Spaniard?"

Ayacanora clapped her hands at finding herself understood, and the
questioning went on.

"The 'devil' appeared like a monkey, with a gray beard, in a
ruff;--humph!--"

"Ay!" said she in good enough Spanish, "Mono de Panama; viejo diablo de
Panama."

Yeo threw up his hands with a shriek--"Oh Lord of all mercies! Those
were the last words of Mr. John Oxenham! Ay--and the devil is surely
none other than the devil Don Francisco Xararte! Oh dear! oh dear! oh
dear! my sweet young lady! my pretty little maid! and don't you know me?
Don't you know Salvation Yeo, that carried you over the mountains,
and used to climb for the monkey-cups for you, my dear young lady? And
William Penberthy too, that used to get you flowers; and your poor dear