How we reached the deck I cannot say, but I remember falling beneath the shade of an awning and drinking cup after cup of the water that was brought to me. At last even my thirst was satisfied, and for a while I grew faint and dizzy, and had no stomach for the meat which was thrust into my hand. Indeed, I think that I must have fainted, for when I came to myself the sun was straight overhead, and it seemed to me that I had dreamed I heard a familiar and hateful voice. At the time I was alone beneath the awning, for the crew of the ship were gathered on the foredeck clustering round what appeared to be the body of a man. By my side was a large plate of victuals and a flask of spirits, and feeling stronger I ate and drank of them heartily. I had scarcely finished my meal when the men on the foredeck lifted the body of the man, which I saw was black in colour, and cast it overboard. Then three of them, whom from their port I took to be officers, came towards me and I rose to my feet to meet them. “Señor,” said the tallest of them in a soft and gentle voice, “suffer me to offer you our felicitations on your wonderful—” and he stopped suddenly. Did I still dream, or did I know the voice? Now for the first time I could see the man’s face—it was that of _Juan de Garcia!_ But if I knew him he also knew me. “Caramba!” he said, “whom have we here? Señor Thomas Wingfield I salute you. Look, my comrades, you see this young man whom the sea has brought to us. He is no Spaniard but an English spy. The last time that I saw him was in the streets of Seville, and there he tried to murder me because I threatened to reveal his trade to the authorities. Now he is here, upon what errand he knows best.” “It is false,” I answered; “I am no spy, and I am come to these seas for one purpose only—to find you.” “Then you have succeeded well, too well for your own comfort, perhaps. Say now, do you deny that you are Thomas Wingfield and an Englishman?” “I do not deny it. I—” “Your pardon. How comes it then that, as your companion the priest tells me, you sailed in _Las Cinque Llagas_ under the name of _d’Aila?_” “For my own reasons, Juan de Garcia.” “You are confused, señor. My name is Sarceda, as these gentlemen can bear me witness. Once I knew a cavalier of the name of de Garcia, but he is dead.” “You lie,” I answered; whereon one of De Garcia’s companions struck me across the mouth.