for the loading of fruit. The sailors of the Salvador grappled and held her there.
Captain McLeod leaned over the side.
“Well, señor, the jig is up, I’m told.”
“The jig is up?” Don Sabas looked perplexed for amoment. “That revolution—ah, yes!” With a shrug of his shoulders he dismissed the matter.
The captain learned of the escape and the imprisoned crew.
“Caribs?” he said; “no harm in them.” He slipped down into the sloop and kicked loose the hasp of the hatch. The black fellows came tumbling up, sweating but grinning.
“Hey! black boys!” said the captain, in a dialect of his own; “you sabe, catchy boat and vamos back same place quick.”
They saw him point to themselves, the sloop and Coralio.“Yas, yas!” they cried, with broader grins and many nods.
The four—Don Sabas, the two officers and the captain—moved to quit the sloop. Don Sabas lagged a little behind, looking at the still form of the late admiral, sprawled in his paltry trappings.
