such odds long and live. "Me kill one," he added, with a lively sense of favors to come.
"Fetch um girl along plenty damn quick," Moniz ordered.
The black disappeared, and a few minutes later returned with four men carrying the form of Joan Trent. The Portuguese stooped over her. The girl's heart was still beating.
"Fainted," he muttered. "You fella come along carry um girl down to boat," he added. "Isa, you go stop all um plenty fella knocking hell out of um bungalow, my word, or I come and be plenty angry along of them."
Moniz thought the best thing he could do was to wait until daylight, especially as he had the girl on his hands. His subtle brain had already conceived a plan for dealing with her.
When she opened her eyes Joan was on the deck of the schooner, and the Portuguese was on one knee at her side. She glanced up and saw his face in the light of a lantern. A shiver passed through her frame.
"I've got you now, querida!" Moniz said in a low voice.
