his bundle. I went hastily into the distance of the vast, dim cavern of
spare room that served for the steerage.

"I want him very much," Carlos said. "I like him. He would be of help to
us."

"It's as your worship wills," Castro said gruffly. They were both at
the bottom of the ladder. "But an Englishman there would work great
mischief. And this youth----"

"I will take him, Tomas," Carlos said, laying a hand on his arm.

"Those others will think he is a spy. I know them," Castro muttered.
"They will hang him, or work some devil's mischief. You do not know that
Irish judge--the _canaille_, the friend of priests."

"He is very brave. He will not fear," Carlos said.

I came suddenly forward. "I will not go with you," Ï said, before I had
reached them even.

Castro started back as if he had been stung, and caught at the wooden
hand that sheathed his steel blade.

"Ah, it is you, Señor," he said, with an air of relief and dislike.
Carlos, softly and very affectionately, began inviting me to go to his
uncle's town. His uncle, he was sure, would welcome me. Jamaica and a
planter's life were not fit for me.

I had not then spoken very loudly, or had not made my meaning very