“The abbe!” exclaimed Angela, “you remember what he said about danger from the sea.”

“Yes; but there is nothing to fear from two hungry men in a small boat—­as I judge from the runner’s account, shipwrecked mariners.”

“I don’t know; there’s no telling, they may be followed by others, and unless we keep them here—­”

“If necessary we must keep them here; as, however, they are evidently not Spaniards it may not be necessary.  But as to that I can form no opinion till I have seen and questioned them.”

We were still talking about them, for the incident was both suggestive and exciting, when the strangers were brought in.  As I expected, they were seamen, in appearance regular old salts.  One was middle-sized, broad built, brawny, and large-limbed—­a squat Hercules, with big red whiskers, earrings and a pig-tail.  His companion was taller and less sturdy, his black locks hung in ringlets on either side of a swarthy, hairless face, and the arms and hands of both, as also their breasts were extensively tattooed.

Their surprise on beholding Angela and me was almost ludicrous.  They might have been expecting to see a copper-colored cacique dressed in war-paint and adorned with scalps.

“White!  By the piper that played before Moses, white!” muttered the red-whiskered man.  “Who’d ha’ thought it!  A squaw in petticoats, too, with a gold chain round her neck!  Where the hangmant have we got to?”

“You are English?” I said, quietly.

“Well, I’ll be—­yes, sir!  I’m English, name of Yawl, Bill Yawl, sir, of the port of Liverpool, at your service.  My mate, here, he’s a—­”

“I’ll tell my own tale, if you please, Bill Yawl,” interrupted the other as I thought rather peremptorily.  “My name is Kidd, and I’m a native of Barbadoes in the West Indies, by calling, a mariner, and late second mate of the brig Sulky Sail, Jones, master, bound from Liverpool to Lima, with a cargo of hardware and cotton goods.”

“And what has become of the Sulky Sail?”

“She went to the bottom, sir, three days ago.”

“But there has been no bad weather, lately.”

“Not lately.  But we made very bad weather rounding the Horn, and the ship sprang a leak, and though, by throwing cargo overboard, and working hard at the pumps, we managed to keep her afloat nearly a month; she foundered at last.”

“And are you the only survivors?”

“No, sir; the master and most of the crew got away in the long boat.  But as the ship went down the dinghy was swamped.  Bill and me managed to right her and get aboard again, but the others as was with us got drowned.”

“And the long boat?”

“We lost each other in the night, and, having no water, and only a tin of biscuits, Bill and me made straight for the coast, and landed in the little cove down below this morning.  All we have is what we stand up in.  And we shall feel much obliged if you will kindly give us food and shelter until such time as we can get away.”