work," he
explained seriously. "Listen now. Sanchez has been badly hurt. It may
be weeks before he leaves his cabin, if, indeed, he ever does. That
leaves me in command with but one officer, the mulatto, LeVere. This
might answer to take us safely to Porto Grande, as we could stand
watch and watch, but Francois is no sailor. It was his part on board
to train and lead the fighting men--he cannot navigate. Saint
Christopher! I fear to leave him alone in charge of the deck while I
snatch an hour's sleep."

"I see," I admitted. "And yourself, Senor? You are a seaman?"

He hated to confess, yet my eyes were honest, and met his squarely.

"Enough to get along, but not quite sure as to my figures. I have
taken no sights, except as we came north, on this trip. 'Tis for this
reason I need you--but you will play me no smart English trick, my
man, or I'll have you by the heels at once. I know enough to verify
your figures."

"I thought of no trick, Estada." I said coldly, now satisfied as to
his purpose, and confident of my own power. "English, or otherwise. It
is well we understand each other. You would have me as navigator, very
well--at what terms?"

His eyes seemed to narrow, and become darker.

"With rating as first officer, and your fair proportion of all
spoils."

"You mean then to continue the course? To attack vessels on the high
seas?"

"Why not?" sneeringly. "Are you too white-livered for that sort of
job? If so, then you are no man for me. It is a long voyage to Porto
Grande, and no reason why we should hurry home; the welcome there will
be better if we bring chests of gold aboard. Ay, and the thought will
put hope into the hearts of the crew; they are restless now from long
waiting."

"But Captain Sanchez? You have no surgeon I am told. Will he not
suffer from neglect of his wound?"

"Suffer? No more than under a leech ashore. All that can be done, has
been. There are men aboard able to treat any ordinary wound. His was a
clean knife thrust, which has been washed, treated with lotion, and
bound up. No leech could do more."

"And my quarters--will they be aft?"

"You will have your choice of those at port. Come now--have you an
answer ready?"

"I would be a fool not to have," heartily. "I am your man Estada."

CHAPTER XIV

I WARN DOROTHY

The Portuguese, evidently well pleased at my prompt acceptance of his
proposal, talked on for some time, explaining to me something of the
situation a