"But"--expostulated the first mate, with a warning gesture.

"I said--take off his irons," repeated Senor Perkins in a dry and
unfamiliar voice.

The two mates released the shackles. The prisoner raised his eyes to
Senor Perkins. He was a slightly built man of about thirty, fair-haired
and hollow-cheeked. His short upper lip was lifted over his teeth, as
if from hurried or labored breathing; but his features were regular and
determined, and his large blue eyes shone with a strange abstraction of
courage and fatuity.

"That will do," continued the Senor, in the same tone. "Now leave him
with me."

The two mates looked at each other, and hesitated; but at a glance
from Perkins, turned, and ascended the ladder again. The Peruvian alone
remained.

"Go!" said the Senor sharply.

The man cast a vindictive look at the prisoner and retreated sullenly.

"Did HE tell you," said the prisoner, looking after the sailor grimly,
"that I tried to bribe him to let me go, but that I couldn't reach
his figure? He wanted too much. He thought I had some stolen money or
valuables here," he added, with a bitter laugh, pointing to the package
that lay beside him.

"And you hadn't?" said Perkins shortly.