clear. I felt a great desire to find Macdonald, and a simple life that I
could understand.

"I am not going with you," I said, very loudly this time.

He stopped at once. Through the scuttle of the half-deck we heard a
hubbub of voices, of people exchanging greetings, of Christian names
called out joyously. A tumultuous shuffling of feet went on continuously
over our heads. The ship was crowded with people from the shore. Perhaps
Macdonald was amongst them, even looking for me.

"Ah, _amigo mio_, but you _must_ now," said Carlos gently--"you
must------" And, looking me straight in the face with a still,
penetrating glance of his big, romantic eyes, "It is a good life," he
whispered seductively, "and I like you, John Kemp. You are young-very
young yet. But I love you very much for your own sake, and for the sake
of one I shall never see again."

He fascinated me. He was all eyes in the dusk, standing in a languid
pose just clear of the shaft of light that fell through the scuttle in a
square patch.

I lowered my voice, too. "What life?" I asked.

"Life in my uncle's palace," he said, so sweetly and persuasively that
the suggestiveness of it caused a thrill in me.

His uncle could nominate me to posts of honour fit for a _caballero_.

I seemed to wake up. "Your uncle the pirate!" I cried, and was amazed at