inherit." He waved his hand and smiled a little. "_Vaya_; a little of
that great wealth would be welcome. If I had had a few pence more there
would have been none of this worry, and I should not have been on
this dirty ship in these rags." He looked down good-humouredly at his
clothes.

"But," I said, "how do you come to be in a scrape at all?"

He laughed a little proudly.

"In a scrape?" he said. "I... I am in none. It is Tomas Castro there."
He laughed affectionately. "He is as faithful as he is ugly," he said;
"but I fear he has been a villain, too.... What do I know? Over there in
my uncle's town, there are some villains--you know what I mean, one must
not speak too loudly on this ship. There is a man called O'Brien, who
mismanages my uncle's affairs. What do I know? The good Tomas has been
in some villainy that is no affair of mine. He is a good friend and
a faithful dependent of my family's. He certainly had that man's
watch--the man we met by evil chance at Liverpool, a man who came from
Jamaica. He had bought it--of a bad man, perhaps, I do not ask. It was
Castro your police wished to take. But I, _bon Dieu_, do you think I
would take watches?"

I certainly did not think he had taken a watch; but I did not relinquish
the idea that he, in a glamorous, romantic way, had been a pirate.
Rooksby had certainly hinted as much in his irritation.

He lost none of his romantic charm in my eyes. The fact that he was
sailing in uncomfortable circumstances detracted little; nor did his
clothes, which, at the worst, were better than any I had ever had. And