ve; and I whirled about angrily.

"What is the matter with you? Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, sir," his voice trembling, "but--but isn't that a man over
there--in the bunk? Good God, sir; look at him!"

The white, ghastly face stared at us, looking like nothing human in
that awful twilight. I actually thought it a ghost, until with
desperate effort, the man lifted himself, clinging with gaunt fingers
to the edge of the bunk. Then I knew.

"Sanchez! You! those damn cowards left you here to die!"

"No one came for me," he answered, choking so the words were scarcely
intelligible. "Is that what has happened; the bark is wrecked; the
crew gone?"

"Yes, they took to the boats--Manuel with them."

"Manuel!" his enunciation clearer from passion, "the sneaking cur. But
I cannot see your face; who are you, and what brought you here?"

"I'll tell you frankly, Captain Sanchez," and I stepped closer. "We
risked coming aboard to save that chest--Roger Fairfax's
chest--before it went down. This vessel has its back broken, and may
slide off into deep water at any minute. We must get you out of here
first."

"Get me out!" he laughed hideously. "You pretend to place my safety
ahead of that treasure. To hell with your help. I want none of it. I
am a dead man now, and the easiest way to end all, will be to go down
with the ship--'twill be a fit coffin for Black Sanchez. By God! I
know you now--Geoffry Carlyle?"

"Yes, but an enemy no longer."

"That is for me to say. I hate your race, your breed, your cursed
English strain. The very sound of your name drives me mad. I accept no
rescue from you! Damn you, take your gold and go."

"But why?" I insisted, shocked at the man's violence. "I have done you
no ill. Is it because I interfered between you and Dorothy Fairfax?"

He laughed again, the sound so insane Haines gripped my sleeve in
terror.

"That chit! bah, what do I care for her but as a plaything. No, my
hate runs deeper than that. How came you here--in the boat stolen from
the _Namur_?"

"No Captain Sanchez. The day after we left the ship, we boarded a
schooner found adrift, the crew stricken with cholera, with not a man
left alive on deck, or below. She lies yonder now."

"A schooner! What name?"

"The _Santa Marie_--a slaver."

"Merciful God!" and his eyes fairly blazed into mine, as he suddenly
forced his body upward in the bunk. "The _Santa Marie_ adrift! the
crew dead from cholera? And the Captain--Para