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Of all the fellow had said Philip Marsham had heard no more than half, for the cry that had twice sounded still rang in his ears, although since it had died away the second time there was only silence on the deck save for the carpenter’s rambling talk. The lad’s mind leaped nimbly from one occurrence to another in search for an explanation of the ery.

“Tell me,” said he, ‘‘what happened on shore?”

At this the carpenter laughed, pleased with believing he had got the boatswain’s thoughts off the affair of the moment. "Why, little enough. They would have persuaded us to leave our weapons at the door, but the Old One was too wise a horse to be caught by the rattle of oats. And whilst he was ducking and smiling and waving hands with the Spaniards, I myself, my ears being keen, heard one cry in Spanish, for I have a proper understanding of Spanish which I got by many pains and much listening — as I was saying, I heard one cry in Spanish, ‘Yea, that is he.’ And said I to myself, ‘Now Heaven keep us! Where have I heard that voice?’ And then it came upon me and I cried in English, ‘Who of us knew the dog, Will Canty, could talk Spanish?’ Whereat the Old One, hearing me, turned and caught a glimpse of Will in the darkness. You know his way — a shrewd blade, but hot-tempered. ‘There,’ cries he, ‘is my man! Seize him!’ And with that I, being nearest, made a leap. And they, being at the moment all oil to soothe our feelings and hood our eyes, were off their guard. So the Old One, who likely enough had heard for himself Will Canty’s saying, since he too hath a curious knowledge of Spanish, cries, ‘Back to the boat, my lads!’ For seest thou, if Will Canty was pointing out this one or that, there was treacherous work in