‘Never mind the sail astern,’ shouted Garbo. ‘Here—ropes, oars, anything—there is a boat swamped ahead, and as he spoke, there appeared the wreck of the man of-war’s pinnace, with some of the men clinging to it, and others striking out amid the sea, and shouting lustily to us for help. A dozen of lines were flung to them at once, while the fat negro leaped overboard, calling to the struggling mariners to fear nothing. Wooroo never moved an inch during the whole affair, except to shake his woolly head when a heavier shower of spray than ordinary fell upon him. The Spaniards, who could most of them swim well, soon scrambled up our low sides, none the worse of their ducking. Not a man was missing, thanks to the aid of our little pearl diver, who had made directly for the wreck of the boat, and very dexterously lashed a couple of ropes round the only two of the crew who, either by being stunned in the collision, or from the bewilderment and suddenness of the whole affair, were clinging for life to the shattered boat, without having in the least the power of helping themselves. Such a scene of outcry, and swearing, and hubbub of all sorts, as the Spanish man-of-war’s men made when they got aboard, I never saw. They ran from end to end of the craft, shouting out, in the darkness, after the vessel which had run them down; roaring, by all the saints, that they would be revenged upon her, and that when the frigate caught her, they would not leave a French or English throat uncut on board. As for me, I deemed it politic to chime in with these declarations—to the great amusement of Captain Garbo, who was a very good fellow, and kept my secret like wax. When we had a little settled down—the squall having also fallen, and the sea getting smoother fast—the captain called for the man who had reported the sail astern, and asked him what like she was? ‘Truly,’ said the mariner, ‘I can tell you not only what like she was, but what she really was—the vessel being no other than the bark which the Buccaneer laid aboard, and which no doubt she captured, for both ships were lying the same course—one passing ahead and the other astern of us.’ ‘Ay,’ said the officer of the man-of-war, shivering in his cold wet clothes, ‘it was the ship the scoundrels wanted, and there is no denying but they have carried her off very cleverly.’