found his breath.
"Risk!" he roared. "Risk in steamin' to an anchorage an' sendin' a
boat ashore for water? There seems to be a lot of mad folk loose just
now on Fernando Noronha, but I'm not one of 'em, an' that's as much as
I can say for enny of you--damme if it ain't."
Evidently the Portuguese was not accustomed to the direct form of
conversation in vogue among British master mariners. He bent his
piercing gaze on Coke's angry if somewhat flustered countenance, and
there was a perceptible stiffening of voice and manner when he said:
"Who are you, then? Who sent you here?"
"I'm Captain James Coke, of the British ship _Andromeda_, that's 'oo
_I_ am, an' I was sent 'ere, or leastways to the River Plate, by David
Verity an' Co., of Liverpool."
It must not be forgotten that Coke shared with his employer a certain
unclassical freedom in the pronunciation of the ship's name; the long
"e" apparently puzzled the other man.
"_Andromeeda_?" he muttered. "Spell it!"
"My godfather, this is an asylum for sure," grunted Coke, in a spasm of
furious mirth. "A-n-d-r-o-m-e-d-a. Now you've got it. Ain't it up to
Portygee standard? A-n-d-r-o-m-e-d-a! 'Ow's that for the bloomin'
spellin' bee?"
But Coke's humor made no appeal. The staring, brilliant eyes fixed on
him did not relax their vigilance, nor did any trace of emotion exhibit
itself in that calm voice.
"You are unlucky, Captain Coke, most unlucky," it said. "I regret my
natural mistake, which, it seems, was shared by the authorities of
Fernando do Noronha. You have blundered into a nest of hornets, and,
as a result, you have been badly stung. Let me explain matters. I am
Dom Corria Antonio De Sylva, ex-President of the Republic of Brazil.
There is, at this moment, a determined movement on foot on the mainland
to replace me in power, and, with that object in view, efforts are
being made to secure my escape from the convict settlement in which my
enemies have imprisoned me. I and two faithful followers are here in
hiding. My friend, Capitano Salvador De San Benavides," and he bowed
with much dignity toward the uniformed officer, "came here two days ago
in a felucca to warn me that a steamer would lie to about a mile south
of the island to-night. The steamer's name is _Andros-y-Mela_--it is
rather like the name of your unhappy vessel--so much alike that the
_Andromeda_ has been sunk by mistake. That is all."
Coke, listening to this explanation
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