As they sat hand in hand, listening breathlessly, José whispered, “Would we even knew who our enemies are!” “They are pirates, doubtless. They will not try to sink the ship, their object being, of course, to get possession of the treasure on board.” “Thank God for that. Perhaps, after all, we may see the sun before we die.” “But think of the gallant soldiers and the poor unhappy mariners, José. Let us ask God to have mercy on them.” “With all my heart. No doubt, by this time, many a brave man is lying low.” They prayed silently for all on board; for the commander, the captain, the soldiers, the mariners. While they were thus occupied, the noises grew fainter, or perhaps they heard them less. At last there came a deafening shout that seemed to burst at once from a hundred throats. Neither José nor Fray Fernando had heard anything like it in their lives before. “God help us!” said Fray Fernando. “We are overcome.” For he knew that was a shout of triumph, and one which did not come from Spanish lips. No further firing was heard; only confused noises of various kinds,—and voices. After a delay, long to their anxious suspense, steps drew near. “They are going to rifle the hold where the treasure is,” said Fray Fernando. Without consulting him, indeed to his surprise and dismay, José, with considerable effort, stood up, and placing his lips as near the hatchway as possible, raised a loud shrill cry, as one who called for help. “O José! beware what you do.” “Why, patre? Wherein can our condition be worse than it is? Who can be more our enemies than the Spaniards?” Once again he cried aloud, throwing all the strength that months of suffering had left him into that cry. Not in vain. The hatchway was torn up rudely; and some one called out in Spanish, though with a foreign accent, “Quien es?” Then they heard the voice of a Spaniard, evidently giving some kind of explanation. Then a brief parley ensued. At last a ladder was put down through the hatchway, and the prisoners were ordered to come up. An order more easily given than obeyed by men who by this time were scarcely able to stand. Two or three sunburnt bearded faces looked down from the hatchway; and their owners, convinced that either the will or the power to ascend the ladder was wanting to the prisoners, speedily descended, and with small ceremony helped or dragged them to the light. One strong fellow put his arm round José, and fairly carried him up the ladder. Still up—up—up—until at last he met a blinding blaze of sunlight, and a gust of sea wind, “shrill, chill, with flakes of foam,” swept over his bewildered, throbbing brow.