"Understand this clearly: to the first shot from the Encarnacion this gun will fire the answer. I make myself clear, I hope?"White-faced and trembling, young Espinosa stared into the pitiless blue eyes that so steadily regarded him.
"If it is clear?" he faltered, breaking the utter silence in which all were standing. "But, name of God, how should it be clear?
How should I understand? Can you avert the fight? If you know a way, and if I, or these, can help you to it - if that is what you mean - in Heaven's name let me hear it.""A fight would be averted if Don Diego de Espinosa were to go aboard his brother's ship, and by his presence and assurances inform the Admiral that all is well with the Chico Llagas, that she is indeed still a ship of Spain as her flag now announces. But of course Don Diego cannot go in person, because he is ... otherwise engaged.
He has a slight touch of fever - shall we say? - that detains him in his cabin. But you, his son, may convey all this and some other matters together with his homage to your uncle. You shall go in a boat manned by six of these Spanish prisoners, and I - a distinguished Spaniard delivered from captivity in Barbados by your recent raid - will accompany you to keep you in countenance. If Ireturn alive, and without accident of any kind to hinder our free sailing hence, Don Diego shall have his life, as shall every one of you. But if there is the least misadventure, be it from treachery or ill-fortune - I care not which - the battle, as I have had the honour to explain, will be opened on our side by this gun, and your father will be the first victim of the conflict."He paused a moment. There was a hum of approval from his comrades, an anxious stirring among the Spanish prisoners. Young Espinosa stood before him, the colour ebbing and flowing in his cheeks. He waited for some direction from his father. But none came. Don Diego's courage, it seemed, had sadly waned under that rude test.
He hung limply in his fearful bonds, and was silent. Evidently he dared not encourage his son to defiance, and presumably was ashamed to urge him to yield. Thus, he left decision entirely with the youth.
"Come," said Blood. "I have been clear enough, I think. What do you say?"Don Esteban moistened his parched lips, and with the back of his hand mopped the anguish-sweat from his brow. His eyes gazed wildly a moment upon the shoulders of his father, as if beseeching guidance. But his father remained silent. Something like a sob escaped the boy.
"I ... I accept," he answered at last, and swung to the Spaniards.
"And you - you will accept too," he insisted passionately. "For Don Diego's sake and for your own - for all our sakes. If you do not, this man will butcher us all without mercy."Since he yielded, and their leader himself counselled no resistance, why should they encompass their own destruction by a gesture of futile heroism? They answered without much hesitation that they would do as was required of them.
Blood turned, and advanced to Don Diego.
"I am sorry to inconvenience you in this fashion, but ... For a second he checked and frowned as his eyes intently observed the prisoner. Then, after that scarcely perceptible pause, he continued, ... But I do not think that you have anything beyond this inconvenience to apprehend, and you may depend upon me to shorten it as far as possible." Don Diego made him no answer.
Peter Blood waited a moment, observing him; then he bowed and stepped back.
