By two o'clock the breakfast was over, and most of the gorged scamps had retired for a _siesta_ during the sweltering heat. A few of the toughest took muskets and went to the beach to shoot gulls or sharks. Gallego and myself were dispatched to our grove-kitchen to scullionize our utensils; and, finally, being the youngest, I was intrusted with the honorable duty of feeding the bloodhounds. As soon as my duties were over, I was preparing to follow the siesta-example of my betters, when I met Don Rafael coming out of the door, and, without a word, was beckoned to follow towards the interior of the island. When we reached a solitary spot, two or three hundred yards from the _rancho_, Rafael drew me down beside him in the shade of a tree, and said gently with a smile, that he supposed I was at least _surprised_ by the events of the last four days. I must confess that I saw little for any thing else but astonishment in them, and I took the liberty to concede that fact to the Don. "Well," continued he, "I have brought you here to explain a part of the mystery, and especially to let you understand why it was that I passed myself off last night as your uncle, in order to save your life. I was obliged to do it, boy; and, _voto a Dios_! I would have fought the _junta_,--bloodhounds and all,--before they should have harmed a limb of your body!" Don Rafael explained that as soon as he caught a glimpse of my face when he boarded the _galliot_ on the morning of our disaster, he recognized the lineaments of an old companion in arms. The resemblance caused him to address me as particularly as he had done on the night of the piracy, the consequence of which was that his suspicions ripened into certainty. If I were writing the story of Don Rafael's life, instead of my own, I might give an interesting and instructive narrative, which showed,--as he alleged,--how those potent controllers of outlaws,--"circumstances,"--had changed him from a very respectable soldier of fortune into a genuine buccaneer. He asserted that my uncle had been his schoolmate and professional companion in the old world. When the war of South American independence demanded the aid of certain Dugald Dalgettys to help its fortune, Don Rafael and my uncle had lent the revolutionists of Mexico their swords, for which they were repaid in the coin that "patriots" commonly receive for such amiable self-sacrifice. _Republics_ are proverbially ungrateful, and Mexico, alas! was a republic. After many a buffet of fortune, my poor uncle, it seems, perished in a duel at which Don Rafael performed the professional part of "his friend." My relation died, of course, like a "man of honor," and soon after, Don Rafael, himself, fell a victim to the "circumstances" which, in the end, enabled him to slaughter my shipmates and save my life.