The monk was lying on a mattress which had been laid for him in a corner of the cabin; but so imperfect was the light admitted by the one small window of thick horn, that José had not perceived him until then. He explained: “Between the unaccustomed sunshine and the feebleness of my long unused limbs I contrived to slip, and hurt my ankle. It will not signify. They laid me here very kindly, and they have given me everything I needed.” “Can you comprehend what has befallen us, patre?” “I have learned somewhat from the padre of the English, who paid me a brief visit here—‘Sir Thomas,’ they call him. He seems to be a good, humane man.” “I suppose we are in the hands of English pirates—buccaneers?” said José. “That certainly cannot be doubted. They call their ship a merchant vessel, and avow that they have come to the Spanish Main to trade for sandal-wood. Of course their trade is in itself contraband, even if it were not merely a cloak to cover piracy. The _Trionfo_, laden with gold and silver, and separated from the Plate fleet by the recent storm, was only too tempting a prize. They bore down upon us, all sails crowded, determined to fight.” “But, patre, the _Trionfo_ is five times the size of this little ship.” “True; but size is one thing, and strength another. I have heard it said ere this that our ships are built for carrying treasure, theirs for winning it by force of arms. You are aware the _Trionfo_ was always accounted unwieldy, and not over well appointed. Moreover, the damage she received in the gale was scarce repaired as thoroughly as might be. The English guns did great execution upon her, her huge bulk exposing her the more; while the small craft of the pirates, bristling with fortifications from stem to stern, took little harm from all our firing. The _San Cristofero_ came near to help us, and indeed gave the enemy volley after volley, but not, it seems, to much purpose. We had several shots between wind and water, and at last our main-mast was cut away. It was feared the ship would sink, with all on board; so the captain and others prayed the commandante to lower his flag. He treated the proposal as an insult, and swore to slay the first man who should name surrender in his hearing. But, shortly afterwards, a mortal wound laid him low. Almost at the same moment the buccaneers threw out their grappling-irons, and prepared to board our ship. Then the captain and two or three of the officers hoisted a flag of truce. The buccaneers only wanted plunder—our great ship, if they had it, could serve them nothing—so it was not difficult to come to terms. The English call the capitulation an honourable one for us—but God help Captain Manuel Sergaz, and the officers who took part with him, when they get to Spain!—if ever they reach it, which the present state of the ship renders, I fear, very doubtful. They will probably make once more for our friendly island, that they may repair damages and refit for the voyage.”