When at length they reached the shore, very few people were left there, for of the rest some had begun to wade out towards the ship to plunder her, whilst others had gone to fetch boats for the same purpose. Therefore, the company who awaited them consisted only of women, children, three old men, and a priest. The last, a hungry-eyed, smooth-faced, sly-looking man, advanced to greet them courteously, bidding them thank God for their escape. “That we do indeed,” said Castell; “but tell us, Father, where are our companions?” “There are some of them,” answered the priest, pointing to the dead bodies; “the rest, with the two señoras, started two hours ago for Granada. The Marquis of Morella, from whom I hold this cure, told us that his ship had sunk, and that no one else was left alive, and, as the mist hid everything, we believed him. That is why we were not here before, for,” he added significantly, “we are poor folk, to whom the saints send few wrecks.” “How did they go to Granada, Father?” asked Castell. “On foot?” “Nay, Señor, they took all the horses and mules in the village by force, though the marquis promised that he would return them and pay for their hire later, and we trusted him because we must. The ladies wept much, and prayed us to take them in and keep them; but this the marquis would not allow, although they seemed so sad and weary. God send that we see our good beasts back again,” he added piously. “Have you any left for us? We have a little money, and can pay for them if they be not too dear.” “Not one, Señor—not one; the place has been cleared even down to the mares in foal. But, indeed you seem scarcely fit to ride at present, who have undergone so much,” and he pointed to Peter’s wounded head and Castell’s bandaged arm. “Why do you not stay and rest awhile?” “Because I am the father of one of the señoras, and doubtless she thinks me drowned, and this señor is her affianced husband,” answered Castell briefly. “Ah!” said the priest, looking at them with interest, “then what relation to her is the marquis? Well, perhaps I had better not ask, for this is no confessional, is it? I understand that you are anxious, for that great grandee has the reputation of being gay—an excellent son of the Church, but without doubt very gay,” and he shook his shaven head and smiled. “But come up to the village, Señors, where you can rest and have your hurts attended to; afterwards we will talk.” “We had best go,” said Castell in English to Peter. “There are no horses on this beach, and we cannot walk to Granada in our state.” Peter nodded, and, led by the priest, whose name they discovered to be Henriques, they started. On the crest of the hill a few hundred paces away they turned and looked back, to see that every able-bodied inhabitant of the village seemed by now to be engaged in plundering the stranded vessel.