But that was not a welcome incident, for it made it harder for the weary sailors to keep the course straight.

The cadet paced up and down the deck; he had been doing that for perhaps the last half hour, stopping only to say a cheery word to the lookouts and once to prop up Ignacio, who was being rolled unceremoniously about the deck.

The cunning Spaniard looked so bedraggled and miserable that Clif would have felt sorry for him if he had not known what a villain he was.

"He'd stab me again if he got a chance," he mused.

For Clif had saved that fellow's life once; but it had not made the least difference in his vindictive hatred.

"I'm afraid," Clif muttered, "that Ignacio will have to suffer this time."

The Spaniard must have heard him, for he muttered an oath under his breath.

"It would be wiser if it was a prayer," said the cadet. "Ignacio, you are near the end of your rope, and you may as well prepare for your fate."

The man fairly trembled all over with rage as he glared at his enemy; such rage as his was Clif was not used to, and he watched the man with a feeling of horror.

"I don't like Spaniards!" was the abrupt exclamation, with which he turned away.

And Ignacio gritted his teeth and simply glared at him, following back and forth his every move, as a cat might.

"I may have a chance yet," he hissed, under his breath. "Carramba, if I only had him by the throat!"

But Clif paid no more attention to the Spaniard.[Pg 36] He had other things to attend to, things to keep him busy.

It was not very long before that was especially true.