"You English are such sea-dogs, there is no keeping you out of the water. I trust, my friend, you will not suffer a chill. At this time of the year—" He was warming to his theme when Jack stepped quietly through the little knot of seamen gathered on the deck, and went straight towards Perez, who was still lolling against the bulwarks, with a gleam of malicious enjoyment in his solitary eye. Before the man was aware of what was coming, Jack had seized him by the waistband, and, using the bulwark as a fulcrum, had tilted him over into the river. Then Jack went below and changed his dripping garments for the Spanish dress which he carried with him in case of emergency. He noticed as he did so that in his absence his effects had been thoroughly ransacked. When he came on deck he found that Perez, by no means a favourite with the sailors, had been hauled out with extreme deliberation, after swallowing some quarts of the turbid waters of the Guadalquivir. He glared at Jack with concentrated malignity, but was physically incapable of reprisal, even if his morale had not been impaired by the knowledge that he had only got his deserts. The captain listened gravely to Jack’s explanation, and examined the severed rope with a judicial air. Jack did not consider it necessary to make any reference to the incident of the despatches. "I suppose," said the captain, "that the Señor will wish to lodge an information? A friend of mine is well acquainted with a man of law in the Calle del Amor de Dios, a very able man—he has one case of assault that has lasted thirteen years." "Thank you!" said Jack with a smile; "but as I only propose to stay in Seville for a few days, I fear I shall have to forgo your friend’s friend’s assistance." The captain looked disappointed. At length the vessel passed the Torre del Oro, a crenelated octagonal tower near the landing-stage. The brig was moored, Miguel and his man, who had been below since the incident, came on deck at the last moment, and ostentatiously ignoring Jack’s presence, stepped across the gangway on to the quay. As Miguel passed him, however, Jack quietly touched him on the shoulder. "Allow me, Don Miguel," he said, "to hand you this packet. It was found—you can perhaps guess where—with some property of mine. I have no occasion for the one; you will perhaps permit me to retain the other?" A dull flush mounted to Miguel’s cheeks. He took the despatch without a word, gave Jack a glance in which humiliation, chagrin, and undisguised hatred were strangely mingled, and prepared to move off. "A word," continued Jack, "before we part. Your Polyphemus is doubtless a very devoted servant, but if we meet again, and I find him still at your elbow, you will pardon me if I betray a little suspicion." Jack turned abruptly away, leaving Miguel for once at a loss for an adequate answer. By the time he had recovered himself, Jack, followed by Pepito, was half-way across the quay.