the squalidness of the interior in which we were quartered. Then
someone, growling and stumbling through the darkness, lit a slush
lantern, dangling from a blackened beam, its faint flicker barely
discernible. The hole became foul and sickening, men tossing and
groaning in their uneasy sleep, or prowling about seeking some measure
of comfort. There was no severe wind accompanying the storm, and the
flurry of rain soon swept by, leaving an ugly swell behind, but
enabling the guard to again uplift the hatches.

Immersed as I was in thought, all this left but small impress on me. I
felt that I could understand the interest exhibited by Dorothy
Fairfax, and, greatly as I already admired her, I was not egotist
enough to even imagine that her effort to serve me had basis in any
personal attraction. My connection with Bucclough, coupled with her
uncle's report of my conviction, had very naturally aroused the girl's
sympathy in my behalf. She felt a desire to lighten my sorrows as
much as possible, and, under the existing circumstances, had found it
comparatively easy to persuade the good-natured planter to acquiesce
in her suggestion. In all probability he really had need of my
services, and was therefore glad enough of this opportunity to secure
them. This part of the affair I could dismiss without giving anyone
undue credit, although I deeply appreciated the kindness of heart
which had led her to interpose, and which later led her to tell me so
quickly what had occurred. Her purpose, however, was fairly clear.

But what about Lieutenant Sanchez? Why was this unknown Spaniard
already so openly my enemy? There was no doubting his position, and
there surely must be some reason for it outside of anything which had
occurred on board the _Romping Betsy_. His words had given me some
inkling of the cause--a past quarrel with the Duke of Bucclough, in