Diego went down and had a whispered talk with him, which resulted in his
beckoning to Lee to come down. The second-mate was in charge of the
deck, and if he saw them go he took no notice.

Lee had no clothes to take, as he had only two shirts--one flannel and
one woven undershirt, which he had up to this time worn in turn, while
he washed the other--and both were becoming well worn out.

In view of a chance of running away, he had put them both on, in spite
of the heat of the day.

Diego's friend pushed them into a little cubby-hole under the half-deck
of the bumboat, saying in Spanish, which Diego translated to Lee:

"Lie there, lads, and we'll put you on shore at Regla all right."

The place was hot and stuffy and there was hardly room to turn round,
but they were so anxious to get away that they lay perfectly still for
at least an hour.

Then the bumboat shoved off to return to the shore, and in fifteen
minutes Lee stood upon foreign soil for the first time. Forlorn and
strange enough he felt, too, and if it had not been for Diego, would
have felt almost inclined to go back to the Traveler and her tyrant of a
captain.

Every sight and sound which met him when he landed was different from
any he had ever experienced before. Long drays, drawn by mules covered
with tasseled harness and bells, and driven by half-naked negroes,
groups of dark-complexioned men, with sashes round their waists and gay