Out at sea, although all
around was clear as crystal, there was nothing to be seen of the Gleam
or Firebrand, but there were ten or twelve fishing canoes, each manned
with from four to six hands, close aboard of us;--we seemed to have got
becalmed in the middle of a small fleet of them. The nearest to us
hailed in Spanish, in a very friendly way.
"Como estamos Capitan, que hay de nuevo; hay algo de bueno, para los
pobres Pescadores?" and the fellow who had spoken laughed loudly.
The Captain desired him to come on board, and then drew him aside,
conversing earnestly with him. The Spanish fisherman was a very
powerful man; he was equipped in a blue cotton shirt, Osnaburg trowsers,
sandals of untanned bullock's hide, a straw hat, and wore the eternal
greasy red sash and long knife. He was a bold, daring looking fellow,
and frequently looked frowningly on me, and shook his head impatiently,
while the Captain, as it seemed, was explaining to him who I was. Just
in this nick of time my friend Potomac handed up my uniform coat, (I had
previously been performing my ablutions on deck in my shirt and
trowsers,) which I put on, swab and all, thinking no harm. But there
must have been mighty great offence nevertheless, for the fisherman, in
a twinkling, casting a fierce look at me, jumped overboard like a
feather, clearing the rail like a flying fish, and swam to his canoe
that had shoved off a few paces.
When he got on board he stood up and shook his clenched fist at Obed,
shouting, "Picaro, traidor, Ingleses hay abordo, quieres enganarnos!" He
then held up the blade of his paddle, a signal which all the canoes
answered in a moment in the same manner, and then pulled towards the
land, from whence a felucca, invisible until that moment, now swept out,
as if she had floated up to the surface by magic, for I could see
neither creek nor indentation on the shore, nor the smallest symptom of
any entrance to a port or cove.
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