“What’s the matter with them fellows in that launch, Marsden,” he inquired of the first-officer. Marsden was peering down into the black hole of the hold. He drew away and looked up to the rail of the hurricane deck. “Played out, sir,” he told him; “they were loading the _San Benito_ until she put out last night at eleven.” The captain had no sympathy for them on that, or any other score. His eye was without mercy, as he took stock of them again. “Hullo--one of them is white,” he said. It was meant, as before, for the first-officer, but it was entirely audible to the _lancheros_. The first-officer looked over into the launch, and the man who was white looked up at him. Then the first-officer turned away. “Yes, sir,” he said. He walked to the hatchway edge. “Quartermaster,” he called. A voice from the hold answered him. “Send up those boxes of nails first,” he ordered. There followed a banging in the cargo-space, the boatswain’s whistle began its shrill little calls, which would keep up all day, a donkey engine puffed, and a windlass rattled in the bowels of the ship; the big hook on the end of its rope swung down the hatchway, and presently a net-sling full of boxes was hoisted and deposited on the main deck. “T. S. & Co., over X, one--Garcia, three times--Y in a diamond, two times--J. S. & Co., over X, four.” The first-officer marked the boxes with his chalk as he called their address and number, the checky for the port authorities and the freight-clerk for the ship kept tally and record in their own books; the net drew taut again at the boatswain’s whistle, and the first load of cargo swung overside and was lowered into the launch. The first-officer went to the side and watched it. It was the white man who unhooked the sling, who spilled out the boxes, and sent the sling back empty, all with a promptness that no native _lancheros_ could have hoped, or would have dreamed of, attempting to attain. These looked rather more than usually dead and alive. Nominally, he was not the _capitan_ of the launch, but it was clear that he was the self-constituted boss of it. The captain of the steamer said as much--“Must make their heads swim, that fellow.” The mate answered “Yes, sir,” again; but another net full of boxes was coming up. He went back to them. “J. S. & Co. over X, two times--Y in a diamond, one,” he called. The checky and the freight-clerk registered; and the work of the day was well under way.