"Small boat, sir, from outside the harbor. Yankee-built cutter. Two American sailors, I take 'em to be. One nigger. One mulatto, I'd say. Now they are meeting a boat from the Spanish trader that's coming in. Of course, sir, there's a rebel craft o' some sort somewhere outside, waiting to know if it's safe to come in."
"All right, Mackenzie," replied the captain of the _Tigress_. "We must catch her. Up anchor!"
"Ay, ay, sir," said Mackenzie, "but no canvas out till that Yankee scout-boat gets away. They needn't suspect we're after em."
"Trust your head, my boy," replied his bluff commander. "You're a sea-fox, my dear fellow, but you won't steal a march on any Yankee, right away. They're as cunning as Mohawks. Speak that Spaniard, if she comes within hail."
That was precisely what the captain of the _Santa Teresa_ had decided not to do, if he could help it. The moment he was again on board of his own ship, he took the helm himself, and he made as wide a sheer easterly as he could. Owing to the channel and the position of the _Tigress_, however, the best he could do was to escape miscellaneous conversation. He could not quite avoid coming within speaking-trumpet range. The hoarse hail of the British lieutenant reached him clearly enough.
"_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!"