I seemed to wake up. “Your uncle the pirate!” I cried, and was amazed at my own words. Tomas Castro sprang up, and placed his rough, hot hand over my lips. “Be quiet, John Kemp, you fool!” he hissed with sudden energy. He had spruced himself, but I seemed to see the rags still nutter about him. He had combed out his beard, but I could not forget the knots that had been in it. “I told your worship how foolish and wrong-headed these English are,” he said sardonically to Carlos. And then to me, “If the senor speaks loudly again, I shall kill him.” He was evidently very frightened of something. Carlos, silent as an apparition at the foot of the ladder, put a finger to his lips and glanced upwards. Castro writhed his whole body, and I stepped backwards. “I know what Rio Medio is,” I said, not very loudly. “It is a nest of pirates.” Castro crept towards me again on the points of his toes. “Señor Don Juan Kemp, child of the devil,” he hissed, looking very much frightened, “you must die!” I smiled. He was trembling all over. I could hear the talking and laughing that went on under the break of the poop. Two women were kissing, with little cries, near the hatchway. I could hear them distinctly. Tomas Castro dropped his ragged cloak with a grandiose gesture. “By my hand!” he added with difficulty. He was really very much alarmed. Carlos was gazing up the hatch. I was ready to laugh at the idea of dying by Tomas Castro’s hand while, within five feet of me, people were laughing and kissing. I should have laughed had I not suddenly felt his hand on my throat. I kicked his shins hard, and fell backwards over a chest. He went back a step or two, flourished his arm, beat his chest, and turned furiously upon Carlos. “He will get us murdered,” he said. “Do you think we are safe here? If these people here heard that name they wouldn’t wait to ask who your worship is. They would tear us to pieces in an instant. I tell you--_moi_, Tomas Castro--he will ruin us, this white fool-------”