When within fifty feet of the lorcha, we paused awhile, and watched closely to ascertain whether any of her crew were visible; we were soon satisfied that our approach could be conducted with perfect impunity, for her stern was high, and not only protected us from the observation of the look-out in the fore part of the vessel, but would hide us from the view of any one except a person coming to look directly over the taffrail. We could distinguish by the light from within, only half-subdued by thin drapery, four stern ports, two on each side; but to see who, or what, was in the cabins, it would be necessary to remove the curtains. Stealthily and silently we now urged ourselves forward, passing the rope along, hand over hand, till at last there we lay right under the lorcha's counter--like a pilot-fish under the lee of a huge shark. Erecting myself in the boat, I found that my shoulders reaching just to the sill of the ports, I could easily raise myself up; but, to my chagrin, found they were too small for me to pass through. It was evident that originally only two ports had existed, but they were now divided into four, by a slight stanchion, or framework, passing down the centre of each. The curtains of the starboard side were closely drawn, the glass part of a sliding sash closed, and it was impossible to see within. Slacking away the rope a little, I grasped the other part of it, and changed our position to the port counter.
The curtains were not so carefully closed at this side, and looking through the open space I was able to view the whole interior of the cabin. My first glance was attracted by the same man I had seen issue from it on the previous night; he was seated at a table, and I saw directly by his flushed face that he had been drinking again very freely. The light from a large lamp was brilliant, and I could observe his every expression with ease,--he was evidently labouring under strong excitement, and in a few moments I saw him pour out a stiff "second-mate's nip" of neat brandy, and gulp it down. His appearance became, if possible, still more inflamed, and several times he started up and went towards the cabin door, snatching up a key from the table. Upon each occasion, after hesitating and listening at the open door, with a fresh effort, and a drop of brandy to obtain resolution, he resumed his seat, gritting his teeth and clenching his hands savagely. His manner plainly told of some evil intention, and that he was endeavouring to raise his determination to put it into execution. The glass sash was not quite closed, and as he retired from the door for the last time I heard a bitter "carajo!" hiss through his teeth with fierce aspiration; followed by a few words uttered with energy in some Spanish patois, from which I could gather: "carajo! my proud beauty--you scorn my love, do you? Wait a little! wait a little, my lady; we shall change places soon."