Kit said it was hard luck and tried not to smile, for the captain's speculations were something of a joke at Las Palmas.
"Other time I buy the mule cart," Don Erminio resumed. "I say, if the merchant want his cargo, he must use my cart. The plan is good, I buy more cart and get rich quick. _Vaya!_ The cart is on the mole, two good mule in front. Comes the _locomotura_, pushing the concrete block. _Mal rayo!_ The driver not look, and the mule is in the sea. I am no more _commerciante_; I am anarchist!"
Kit thought he understood the accident, for the mole at Las Palmas is narrow and the concrete blocks, carried on rails to its end, are large. The captain paused and coughed.
"Don Pedro savvy much; he buy whisky," he went on. "Now I have seen the _finca_ mi t'roat is like the lime pit."
Kit's throat did not bother him. He had inherited an ascetic vein and, in a country where wine is cheap, he was abstemious. For all that, he was hungry and he looked ahead to see if the little port got nearer. He hoped the breeze would not freshen much before they arrived. Then he heard blocks rattle and looked astern. A schooner had gone about behind them and was overtaking the boat. Her forefoot swung out of the smooth swell, and a thin streak of foam marked her waterline; her high sails were black against the sunset. As she came up she swerved, a jib was hauled aback to stop her, and her after-canvas flapped.
"_La Malagueña_," said Don Erminio. "Now we get a drink!"
When the schooner forged past somebody threw a rope, Kit pulled down the boat's mast, and in a few minutes he and Don Erminio got on board. She was a beautifully-modelled vessel, belonging to the fruit-carrying fleet, but Kit understood an English merchant had recently chartered her. When he jumped down from the bulwarks, Wolf, the merchant, crossed the deck.
"If you'll come below and smoke, we'll tow your boat," he said and addressed Don Erminio in good Castilian. "Hallo, my friend! How do things go?"
"They do not go well," said the other. "I have seen the tomato farm."
Wolf laughed and took them to the small stern cabin, where he got out two or three bottles, some figs, and cigars. Kit took a _copita_ of sweet, white muscatel and studied his host. Wolf was dark-skinned and wore white clothes, Canary rawhide slippers and a Spanish sash, but his English was good. Although he was fat, his movements and glance were quick.