"This sun blazing on his head would be sufficient for that," said Sir Thomas. "The man is a derelict, and it matters not to us whether he is in extremes or but lately become unconscious; we will succour him all the same. Come, now, let an old campaigner give advice. Give him water first, but in little sips, and not much at that; later, he shall have his fill, when he is able to eat. Roger de Luce and the surgeon will look to him, while we see that the boat is hoisted. There was nothing else aboard?" "Nothing," was the answer. "And he has no papers about him?" "I have searched," answered Roger. "His pockets are empty; there is nothing on him." "Then he is deserving of our compassion. Let us deal with him as we would wish to be dealt with were we in like predicament. Let him have water, as I said, and later his fill of meat." That evening the Spaniard was able to sit up, and even to struggle to his feet, but he was as yet too weak to give an account of himself. However, on the following morning Roger questioned him in the presence of the commander. "Let us hear where you come from," he said kindly. "We discovered you in the middle of the ocean, far from land, and without food or water." "Would I had died!" was the answer, as the man stared at Roger, astounded to find one aboard an English ship who spoke his language. "Would I had died! For it seems that I have fallen from the hands of one enemy into those of another." "But why?" demanded Roger. "We are enemies to your countrymen, for the simple reason that they attacked us on the high seas; but to you--never! We have saved you from death, and, when the time comes, we will hand you back to your comrades." "And to sure death," was the reply. "Listen, senor. I am deemed a traitor. It is thought that I have conspired against the Governor of Santiago, and my punishment was this----" He stopped as if he were fatigued, and sipped at the vessel of water beside him. "I was condemned to put to sea in an open boat," he said faintly, as if the memory of his trouble was too great for him. "I was taken aboard a galleon a week ago, and dropped into this boat. There I was left, with little food and water, with no chart, and no knowledge of the ways of the sea; and all around me, when the galleon went out of sight, was water. Oh, the awful horror of it!" He shuddered, and buried his face in his hands. Then, regaining courage, he proceeded-- "I take Heaven to witness that I was no traitor and no conspirator. But what use is it to repine? A week ago I thought that death stared me in the face, and when a few days had gone I longed for the end to come. But one struggles even for the most miserable of lives, for existence is dear to us all. I steered the boat as well as I could, in what direction I knew not. Then my arm tired, my strength failed, and the sun overpowered me. I knew no more till I found myself beneath this awning. And you will befriend me? Doubtless you are bound for England?"