Then, all at once, a ringing voice spoke authoritatively from beyond the group that encircled her. "God's death! What's this? Give way there!" Two men went staggering aside, spun apart by an iron hand on the shoulder of each. The lady looked fearfully into the face of El Beauvallet. He had cast aside his morion, and his close black hair showed, curling neatly over his head. Under straight brows she saw fine eyes, the blue of the sea with the sunlight on the water. They were bright eyes and keen, vivid under the black lashes; laughing eyes, watchful yet careless. The laugh was stayed in them now as he checked in his impatient stride. He stood staring; a mobile eyebrow flew up comically; Sir Nicholas Beauvallet appeared incredulous, and blinked at this unexpected vision. His glance, quick moving, took in next the lady's captors, and the stilled laughter went right out of his eyes. He was swift in action, too swift for Hick, still stupidly grasping one of the lady's wrists. A clenched fist shot out and took Master Hick neatly on the point of the jaw. Master Hick fell a-sprawl on the deck. "Cullions! Dawcocks!" said Beauvallet terribly, and swung round to deal in kind with John Daw. But Master Daw had hurriedly released the wrist he held, and was making off as quickly as he could. He was sped on his way by a shrewd kick to the rearward. Beauvallet turned to the lady. "A million pardons, señora!" he said, as though here were no great matter. The lady was forced to admit him to be a personable fellow, and she found his smile irresistible. She bit back an answering gleam: one would not smile friendly upon an English freebooter. "Unhand my father, señor!" she commanded, mighty haughty. The tone seemed to amuse Beauvallet; his shoulders shook appreciatively. He looked round for sign of my lady's parent, and saw him standing between guards who straightway let him go, and stepped back in something of a hurry. Don Manuel was shaken, and ashen pale. He spoke breathlessly. "I demand instantly to see the commander!" "A million more pardons!" Beauvallet responded. "Behold the commander, Nicholas Beauvallet, at your service!" The lady exclaimed at that. "I knew it! You are El Beauvallet!" Beauvallet turned to her, the eyebrow was raised again, and the eyes themselves were twinkling. "Himself, señora. Wholly at your feet." "I," said Don Manuel stiffly, "am Don Manuel de Rada y Sylva. You address my daughter, Doña Dominica. I demand to know the meaning of this outrage." "Outrage?" said Beauvallet, honestly puzzled. "What outrage, señor?" Don Manuel flushed, and pointed a shaking finger to the shambles forward. "You need ask, señor?" "The fight! Why, to say truth, noble señor, I had thought that this ship opened fire upon me," said Beauvallet pleasantly. "And I was never one to refuse a challenge." "Where," demanded Doña Dominica, "is Don Juan de Narvaez?" "Under guard, señora, until he goes aboard his own long boat."