"Our crew are indeed a mixed lot, Mr. Basset," she heard Captain Phillips say to her father; "mixed in character and in colour; more like a gang shipped in the Mersey than in London." "How so, sir?" asked Mr. Basset. "We have Yankees, West Indians, and Mexican Spaniards--some of these last are the worst of the lot." "Been a good many years in Mexico, Captain Phillips," said Hawkshaw, assuming a jaunty air. "Have you?" "Yes, and should like to see some of your fellows." "They are quarrelsome, I presume," observed Mr. Basset. "Very, and very apt to use their knives. Keep her away a point or two to the southward, Ellerton," said he to the man at the wheel. "Mr. Quail, desire the watch to bring those lee braces more aft." "They should be restricted in the use of such weapons as sheath-knives, by law," said Mr. Basset, emphatically, and thinking, perhaps, of his judge's wig, which he had been recently trying on. "So they should, sir, but the law seldom reaches far into blue water, unless so be as a Queen's pennant is floating over it. Do you see that fellow out upon the arm of the mainyard just now?" "Ah!--what is he perched up there for?--amusement?" asked Mr. Basset. "He is busy securing the eye of the stun'sail boom." "Well, captain?" "To my mind, he is the very model of a pirate." They all looked up, and saw a large-boned, powerful, athletic, dark-skinned, and black-whiskered fellow, clad in a red shirt, and a pair of remarkably dirty canvas trousers, secured about his waist by a black belt, in which a long sheath-knife was stuck. He was astride the yard-arm; the bronze-like soles of his muscular bare feet were turned towards the group, and, as the captain said, he was doing something to the studding-sail boom. "A foreigner, I presume, by the rings in his ears," said Mr. Basset, with his hands thrust into the pockets of his ample white waistcoat. "A Mexican Spaniard," said Captain Phillips; "we have two of them on board, brothers, and a pretty pair of rascals they are. But there goes the steward's bell for tea, ladies; Miss Basset, may I have the pleasure of taking you below? She's running on a wind now, and will be pretty steady. Doctor Heriot, oblige me by doing the attentive to Miss Rose." The young surgeon (whom the captain's request was meant to quiz) hastened, smilingly, to proffer his arm as directed, and the whole party, including Quail, the first mate, Manfredi, the third (as the second had charge of the deck), descended to the cabin, where Rose did the honours of the captain's tea-table, for Ethel was still too weak or too listless to do so. The last to leave the deck was Cramply Hawkshaw. As he turned to descend, he looked up at the Spanish seaman, whose outline and dark profile were clearly defined against the sky. "'Tis Pedro Barradas," he muttered; "confusion and a curse! the Barradas here."