“Is there reason to suppose that, the widow imagines her daughter is saved? Is there reason to believe that the widow herself is saved? Supposing her to have been picked up by a ship bound south, why should not she proceed in the direction that, if pursued, must ultimately land her at Cadiz, or put her in the way of very easily reaching Madrid, for which city, as I understand, she and her daughter embarked at Acapulco? Interpret all this, will you?” Antonio began to translate. “Fielding!” exclaimed Greaves. “Sir.” “Call Jimmy aft.” The boy arrived. “I am going below, Fielding,” said Greaves. “My ribs ache consumedly. I may get some ease by lying flat. Is the longboat coming off?” The tall bulwarks prevented him from seeing the lower ranges of the island. I looked a moment; then, to make sure, leveled the glass, and said: “They are at this instant shoving off, sir.” “Get in the water and then hoist your boat in,” said he. “You can fill on the brig and stand north for an offing of about three miles; then heave-to afresh, and carefully observe the bearings of the island, lest it should roll down black or thick. If heavy weather happens in the night we will proceed, for we have fresh water enough aboard to carry us along. Otherwise, we will complete our watering in the morning, for I want to make a steady run of it to the Channel without need of a halt on any account whatever.” While Greaves was giving me his instructions, Antonio was interpreting to the lady Aurora, who frequently broke into short exclamations of “_Qué!_” “_Es esto!_” “_Será posible?_” and, while she thus exclaimed, she would look with an expression of dismay and reproach at the captain. “If I rest my bones through the night,” said Greaves, “I shall be easier or well again in the morning. Look in upon me with a report from time to time, Fielding, and tell Bol to visit me during his watch.” He rose from his chair with a face of pain, put his arm upon Jimmy’s shoulder, and went below. I stepped to the gangway, calling to the fellows who were hanging about in the head to lay aft and stand by to discharge the boat and get her aboard. She came alongside deep, and it was dark before we had hooked the tackles into her. When she was stowed, the topsail was swung and the brig headed about north. There was a light wind out of the southwest. It set the water tinkling alongside with the noise as of the bells of a sleigh heard afar. The young moon lay in a red curl in the west, as though, up there, she was still colored by the flush of the sunset that had blackened out to our sight. There was not a cloud. The stars were plentiful and bright, and the dusky ocean, flat and firm, showed as wide as the sky.