was very slim and wore a white tunic and scarlet breeches. As he drew closer Allday noticed that his smart uniform and gleaming cavalry boots were less so, and like the man himself, showed signs of having been out here in this terrible place for some while.
He walked around them very slowly, his dark features thoughtful, but without any sign of emotion.
He stopped in front of them again and said in careful English, 'I am Capitan Don Camilo San Martin, of His Most Catholic Majesty's Dragoon Guards.' He had a sensitive face, marred by a thin, even cruel mouth. 'I would be obliged if you would honour me with your er, titles?' He held up one neat hand. 'But before you begin, I must warn against lies. That fool of a man told me how his patrol discovered you and your sailors. How after a great fight he was able to overpower you and bring you to me.'He seemed to draw himself up in stature. 'I am in command of this er, enterprise at the moment.'
Allday breathed out slowly as Pascoe replied, 'I am Lieutenant Adam Pascoe of His Britannic Majesty's Navy.' The Spaniard's sad eyes moved to Allday. 'And this? I understand he, too, is an officer.' His mouth lifted slightly. 'Of some lesser value perhaps?'
'Yes.' Pascoe swayed but kept his voice level. 'A warrant officer.'
Allday found time to marvel at Pascoe's quick thinking after what he had just endured. The Spaniard seemed content with the lie. If they were to be separated now, there was no chance of escape, if chance there was.
'Good.' Capitan San Martin smiled. 'You are very young, Teniente. I am right therefore to suppose that you were not alone? That you are from an English ship, eh?' He held up his hand in the same tired gesture. 'I know. You are an officer and bound to your oath. That I respect. In any case, the question must have an obvious answer.'
Pascoe said hoarsely, 'My men, Capitan. Could you order your soldiers to take care of them.'
The Spaniard seemed to consider it. 'In good time. But for the moment you and I have matters to discuss. ' He pointed to his tent. 'Within. The sun is cursed hot today.'
Inside it was cool, and as Allday's eyes grew accustomed to the shaded interior he realised he was walking on a thick carpet. After the rough road it was like a gentle balm for his tom and blistered feet.
San Martin remarked, 'I see from your back that you had some rough handling on your way.' He shrugged. 'They are ignorant savages. But good fighters. My grandfather used to hunt them for sport.' It seemed to amuse him. 'But we must change with the times.'
An orderly brought some goblets and began to fill them with wine.
San Martin nodded. 'sit down, if you wish. You are now prisoners of war. I suggest you make the most of my hospitality.' He smiled again. 'I was once a captive of the English, and exchanged a year back. I learned to improve my understanding of your people, as well as the language.'
Pascoe began, 'I must insist, sir-'
He got no further. San Martin stared up at the roof of the tent and shouted, 'Do not insist with me, Teniente!' The sudden effort brought a rash of sweat across his features. 'I have but to say the word and I can make you vanish! How do you enjoy that' eh? Those animals you saw out there working on the road and defences are criminals, who but for the urgency of this task would be in their rightful places, chained to the oars of a galley or rotting on gibbets. I could have you flung amongst them, Teniente! How would you like to eke out your life chained to a great sweep, sitting in your own filth and living hour by hour to the beat of a drum, the lash of a whip, eh?' He was almost beside himself. 'You would have very little time to insist, that I promise you!'
Allday saw the soldier with the wine bottle shaking badly. He was obviouslv used to his master's violent outbursts.
He continued more calmly, 'Your ship, or ships perhaps, are in our waters to do us some harm.' He gave a slow smile. 'Your commander, do I know of him?'
He did not wait for answer but strode from the tent. Pascoe whispered quickly, 'He does not know about the schooner.'
'To hell with the schooner, Mr. Pascoe. What will you tell him?
Before he could reply the Spanish captain was back again. With great care he laid a loop of stout cord on the table and stood back to examine it.
'You will see that it is joined at both ends.' He sounded matter of fact. 'There are two large knots in it, here and here.' He tapped it with his finger. 'A circle of pain. Our inquisitors found it of some use for obtaining confessions of guilt in the Americas, I believe.' He looked hard at Pascoe. 'If I had this placed around your head, each of the knots would fit against an eye. By twisting the cord from behind, tighter and tighter, I am assured the agony is unbearable.' He picked up the cord and threw it to the orderly. 'And of course, the climax comes when both eyes are forced from their sockets. 'He snapped an order to his orderly who almost ran from the tent. 'Like grapes.'
Allday exclaimed hoarsely, 'You’ll not let those devils use it on our lads!'
I have told you!' San Martin's face was working with emotion. 'You are prisoners of war. You will be treated as such while you are under my guard.' He sat down, his chest working painfully. 'Now drink your wine.'
Allday dropped his goblet as a terrible shriek echoed round the tent. As Pascoe made for the entrance two pistols appeared in San Martin's hands as if by magic.
'stand! It is not one of your wretched sailors! It is only a prisoner. The effect will be the same after they have watched his pain!'
San Martin's eyes remained as still as the two pistols as he studied Pascoe's horrified face. The terrible screams continued for what seemed like an hour, but when they ceased the sound remained in the tent like a curse from hell.
San Martin replaced the pistols in his belt and said, 'sailors talk a great deal. I will go now. Do not try to leave the tent or I will have you killed.' He picked up his hat and banged dust from its yellow plume. 'When I have spoken to the sailors I will know about your ships, and probably much more as well.'
The tent seemed very silent after he had gone.
Pascoe sank down on to the carpet and retched uncomfortably. 'He's right.'
