As Miguel, leaning on the arm of his follower, disappeared down the companion-way, Jack noticed a large rent in the man’s cloak, into which another material, by no means a good match, had been clumsily darned. He started, and drew out of his pocket a jagged remnant of cloth, the sole memento of his narrow escape at Cacabellos. In general appearance it closely resembled the material worn by the Spaniard; but as both were brown, and Spanish cloaks were usually of this colour, it would not be easy, without close examination, to establish their identity. "It may be merely a coincidence," thought Jack, "but it’s queer, anyway. I have no doubt he owes me a grudge; I hit him rather hard. And Miguel, who doesn’t love me either, would not be above reminding him of it." With a careless resolve to be on his guard, Jack dismissed the matter for the moment. For two days he saw nothing more of Miguel. The wind was fresh, and while Jack revelled in the rapid progress, and felt himself braced by the keen salt air, Miguel, his man, and Pepito all passed through various stages of misery and despair. Pepito was the first to recover, and from him Jack learnt that Miguel had intended to attempt the journey southwards overland, but that, having accidentally caught sight of Jack in Vigo, he had made enquiries, and determined to risk the sea-passage in his company. This information Pepito had picked up from one of the seamen, who had been accosted and questioned by Perez before they left the harbour. "Two villains, Señor!" said Pepito, as he concluded his story. "They do not love the Señor," he added, significantly fingering the small knife that protruded from his sash. The action, like the weapon itself, was two-edged. It was a warning to Jack and a menace to the two Spaniards, who had just crawled for the first time from below, and, unwashed and unshorn, presented anything but a formidable appearance. Nevertheless, whenever he moved, Jack felt that Perez was watching him. He never succeeded in catching him in the act; he felt rather than saw the glare of the man’s forlorn eye. Miguel volunteered the information that he was carrying despatches from La Romana to the Supreme Junta at Seville, and asked Jack what errand had brought him southwards. Jack, however, evaded the question, enquiring into the present circumstances of La Romana’s rabble, and its prospects of escaping destruction. The Spaniard was evidently annoyed at Jack’s want of communicativeness. He gave the shortest answers to his questions, and then, with a malicious gleam in his eyes, turned the conversation into another channel.