and this last explanation came to us over the water in a faint thread
of sound barely discernible. I asked if I should tack back, but
Fairfax shook his head, and in a moment more we were beyond reach of
the voice. Dorothy appeared at the door of the cabin and stood there,
gazing in surprise at the bark, while the moment he caught sight of
her Sanchez went hastily forward, removing his hat with so peculiar a
flourish as he approached as to cause me to notice the gesture.
Fairfax remained beside the rail, staring out across the widening
water, clearly dissatisfied, but finally waved his hand in a command
to me to resume our course. Shortly after he crossed the deck to the
wheel, and stood there beside me, still watchful of the dwindling
vessel already far astern.

"What do you make of her, Carlyle?" he asked finally, turning slightly
to glance at my face. "I believe that fellow lied."

"So do I, sir," I answered promptly. "Whatever else he may be, he's
no peaceful Dutch trader. The bark is Dutch built all right, and no
doubt once sailed out of Rotterdam; but that fellow got his accent
from South Europe."

"Damn me, that's just what I thought."

"Nor is that all, sir. If he was loaded with cane-sugar and hides for
market, he wouldn't be nearly so high out of water. That bark was in
ballast, or I miss my guess. Besides, if he was a trader, where was
his crew? There wasn't a single head popped over the rail while we
were alongside; and that isn't natural. Even a West India nigger has
curiosity. I tell you the men on board that hooker had orders to keep
down."