red on board the wrong craft; and that on
board her we have, in the same unaccountable way, established in our two
respectable selves a most interesting case of mistaken identity, eh?"

"Yes," said I, "I agree with you there. Go on," seeing that it was
quite hopeless to think of diverting him from his ridiculous mood.

"That is all right," resumed Courtenay. "Now, judging from the
fragmentary information we have been able to acquire thus far in our
interesting conversations with that amiable old traitor, Carera, on deck
there, I imagine our position to be this. We are two youthful but
intelligent Spanish naval officers commissioned by the captain-general
at La Guayra to accompany Carera on a little trading voyage he is making
to certain lagoons lying somewhere inside the Barcos Channel. Now where
_is_ the Barcos Channel? Do you know?"

"Haven't the slightest idea, beyond the exceedingly hazy one I have been
able to form from what Carera said," answered I.

"Neither have I," acknowledged Courtenay. "But I think we know enough
to identify its position very nearly. If I understood our friend aright
we are now heading for Cape Irois, the most westerly point of Saint
Domingo. From thence he intends to shape a course for Cape Maysi, which
we both know to be the easternmost point of Cuba. Then, having
weathered that point, he informed us that we might expect to have the
wind well on our starboard quarter, which--knowing as we do that the
prevailing wind in that latitude is from about east-north-east--means
that we shall be steering a westerly course, or say from west to north-
west. That would take us up along the northern coast of Cuba. Now, how
long did you understand Carera to say it would take us to complete the
run to the Barcos Channel?"

"Something like forty-eight hours," I replied.

"Exactly," acquiesced Courtenay. "That was what I understood. Now I
should say that, with the wind on her quarter, this little hooker may be
expected to run about ten knots per hour, which, for forty-eight hours,
gives a run of four hundred and eighty miles, at which distance, there
or thereabouts, from Cape Maysi, I imagine the Barcos Channel to be.
That, then, seems to indicate approximately the locality of the spot to
which we are bound. Do you agree with me?"

"I do," said I. "That is precisely how I have reasoned it out in my own
mind."

"That is well," resumed Courtenay. "Now, why are we going there?
Manifest