"Yes," laughed the senor, "but the senora wants to have the American consul killed because he told her she had better have that thing melted and made over into one of the modern patterns. She will never forgive him. Tell her again, when you have a chance, that the old-time Seville silversmiths could beat anything we have nowadays, and she will love you. I do not really believe myself that we are getting much ahead of those ancient artists. They were wonderful designers." Ned was willing to believe that they were, and he made up his mind to praise Senora Tassara's pet urn to the best of his ability. He was not to have an opportunity for doing so immediately. Their breakfast was ready for them in the dining-room, but they were allowed to eat it by themselves. It seemed to Ned a very good one, but several times he found himself turning away from it to stare at the silver marvel and at the weapons on the walls. There was no apparent reason for haste, but neither of them cared to linger, and before long they were out on the piazza in front, Zuroaga with his hat pulled down to his eyes and his coat collar up. Ned was at once confirmed in his previous idea that the house was anything but new, and to that he added the conviction that it was much larger than it had appeared to be in the night. He believed, too, that it must have cost a deal of money to build it long ago. He had only a moment for that calculation, however, for his next glance went out toward the gulf, and he came near to being astonished. The path which he had followed in coming up from the shore had been a steep one, and he was now standing at a place from which he had a pretty good view of the tossing water between the mainland and the castle of San Juan de Ulua. The old fortress was there, unharmed by the norther, but not in any direction, as far as his eyes could reach, was there any sign of a ship, at anchor or otherwise. "Senor!" he exclaimed. "What has become of them? They are all gone! Do you suppose they have been wrecked?" "Not all of them, by any means," replied the senor, but he also was searching the sea with a serious face. "As many as could lift their anchors in time to make a good offing before the norther came were sure to do so. If there were any that did not succeed, I can't say where they may have gone to just now." "The _Goshhawk_--" began Ned, but the senor gripped his arm hard, while he raised his right hand and pointed up the road. "Silence!" he commanded, in a sharp whisper. "Look! there he comes. Don't even call him by his name. Wait and hear what he has to say. He can tell us what has become of the bark. They are a used-up lot of men." So they were, the five who now came walking slowly along from somewhere or other on the coast upon which the disastrous storm had blown.