"_Santa Teresa_. Barcelona to Porto Rico. Passengers and cargo. What ship's that?" "His Britannic Majesty's _Tigress_, Captain Frobisher," replied Mackenzie. "You've seen rough weather, eh? One o' your sticks gone?" "Knocked out," returned Velasquez. "We were mauled by a buccaneer. We got away from him." "Where did you leave the American?" was the lieutenant's next question, made as confidently as if he had actually seen the _Noank_. "What is she, anyhow?" The Spanish captain was silent for a moment in utter astonishment. How could the Englishman have known anything about it? His very surprise, however, defeated his prudence, and he answered:-- "Heavy schooner, bound in. She won't try it, now you are here." "All right," came cheerily back; "I saw you send her a pilot. I'll report you." "Caramba!" shouted Velasquez, in sudden anger. "Report! I hope your American rebels will beat you on land and sea! They have my good will, with all my heart!" "That's so, I declare!" exclaimed the British officer, lowering his glass. "I might have known it. It's the old grudge between England and Spain. No wonder the Yankees get away from us as they do. All the American colonies are in league together against all Europe. We'll hunt down that Yankee schooner, though, in spite of 'em. Humph! To be snubbed in this way by the skipper of a Barcelona trader! I'll report him! What's the world coming to!" The _Santa Teresa_, under very light canvas, was now making her slow way to her wharf, to which her arrival signals had already summoned a growing throng of expectant people. Among these, of course, were the mercantile men who were interested in the ship and her cargo, and many more were the friends and relatives of her crew and passengers. Besides these, there were naval, military, and custom-house officials, and persons who were eager for the latest news from Europe. As the _Santa Teresa_ floated nearer, hats and handkerchiefs began to wave on board and on the shore. The first words that were sent landward, however, were in the tremendously excited treble of old Señora Paez. "Praise God!" she called out. "Praise to Our Lady! We were rescued from the pirates! We were saved from death by an American privateer! God bless the Americans and give them their freedom!" Little she knew and less she cared that her enthusiastic utterances were heard by loyal subjects of the king of England. Hardly a cable's length away was anchored a stout corvette of twenty-eight guns, whose officers and men, up to that moment, had been observing the new arrival quite listlessly. Instantly, now, there began a stir on board of her, and a boat prepared to put off to the _Santa Teresa_ upon an errand of inquiry. Before it could be lowered, however, the corvette herself was hailed by a boat from the _Tigress_.