Antonio translated; the lady Aurora gazed at him somewhat passionately, and beat the air with a gesture of irritation, clearly unable to collect the captain’s meaning from the fellow’s interpretation of it. Antonio talked much and gesticulated with singular energy. The lady then appeared to comprehend. “She says that her mother is rich,” said Antonio, “and is well known as the widow of Don Alonzo de Cueva, the merchant of Lima. She will pay liberally to be conveyed to Acapulco, where she has a brother who is a priest. She will return to Acapulco because she is sure to believe that the señora, her mother, will seek her there.” “Tell the lady,” said Greaves, “that I am truly sorry not to be able to put her ashore at any port where she would be within easy reach of Acapulco. When I have filled my water casks I am proceeding to England as straight as the rudder can steer the ship, touching nowhere, and giving everything that passes plenty of room. Yet this tell her, likewise, that on our way to England we may chance to fall in with a vessel bound to a port on this side the South American coast. Should we fall in with such a vessel, I will transfer the lady to her.” He spoke slowly, with the deliberateness of a man who is in pain while he discourses. Antonio made shift to render the captain’s words intelligible to the lady. She asked, through the Spanish seaman, what Captain Greaves would charge to put her ashore at Lima or Valparaiso. “It is not to be done,” said Greaves; “beg her not to repeat that request.” She seemed to gather the matter of his speech by his manner. Her eyes came to mine, earnest, pleading, with a deeper shadow in their dark depths as though tears were not far off. It was a look that made me curse my ignorance of the Spanish tongue. Much could I have said to comfort and hearten her; but though I had been able to talk as fluently as she, it was not for me to intrude _then_. I was mate, and Greaves was captain; and I stood at the rail seeming to watch the island as it blackened to the fading crimson light, and to be keeping a lookout for the return of the longboat. “Was not the lady’s mother proceeding to Madrid?” said Greaves. “Yes, capitan,” answered Antonio. “If the vessel which may have picked her up is going that way, why should she desire to return to Acapulco?” “You have heard, my capitan, that the señorita believes her mother will return to Acapulco and wait for her there.” “How is the mother to know that the daughter is alive?” Again Antonio squinted fiercely and shrugged.