"No," said the Cuban, lighting a cigar. "I sent down a black, who was a splendid swimmer--one of my slaves." "Suppose he goes and clears off the silver unbeknownst to you?" said Sam, grinning. "He will not do that," said the Cuban, quietly exhaling a cloud of smoke. "How do you know, capen?" said Oakum. "I never trusts niggers," and as he spoke he scowled at 'Pollo, who was crossing the deck, and who slunk away. "Because he is gone where I should send any man who was likely to prove treacherous to me," said Laure, in a low, hissing whisper. "That fellow began to talk too much, and one night he fell overboard--somehow. It is impossible to say how." The two men stood gazing in each other's eyes for a few moments, and then the Cuban added slowly-- "I never boast, and I never forgive. A man is a fool to his own interests who tries to escape me. Your worthy employers thought that they had quite got rid of me, and had the field open to themselves. You see where they are? Now, if such a man as that old Rasp were to play fast and loose with me, that old man would die. Don't tell him I said so; it would make him uncomfortable, and it is better a man should not know that he is likely to die. Take a cigar, my good friend Oakum." "Thanky, no, capen, I always chews," said Sam; and then, as the other moved and went forward, Sam added, "He's a devil, that's what he is--a devil." Old Rasp was sitting on a coil of rope close at hand polishing up one of the helmets ready for the morrow's use, and just then the two men's eyes met, and a peculiar wink was exchanged, but they did not speak; and the rest of the evening was spent in making preparations for the morrow's descents. Since he had been on deck, Sam Oakum had once or twice seen a little canary, one that Mr Wilson used to pet a good deal, feeding it and training it so that it would sit on his finger, and feed from his hand, and this bird set him thinking. Quite half the birds were dead, but there were several surviving, thanks to 'Pollo, who had given the little things seed and water, and cleaned out their cages. He had begun to talk to Oakum about them, but the old sailor turned upon him savagely. "You go and attend to your pots and pans," he roared, "you black lubber;" and 'Pollo shrunk from him with a frightened, injured air; and as the black crept away Oakum suspected that the Cuban was close at hand, as he always was whenever either of the seceded party spoke together. "Poor old 'Pollo!" said Sam to himself, as he sat down opposite the cage and began thinking. "Now, I wonder, little matey," he said softly, "whether, if I let you loose, you'd find your master, and take him a message." He sat thinking for a while, and then shook his head. "No, I'm sartain it wouldn't do; no, not even if you could talk like a poll parrot."