It remained to ascertain the precise identity of these mysterious saviours, and do them fitting honour.
Upon this errand--Governor Steed's condition not permitting him to go in person--went Colonel Bishop as the Governor's deputy, attended by two officers.
As he stepped from the ladder into the vessel's waist, the Colonel beheld there, beside the main hatch, the four treasure-chests, the contents of one of which had been contributed almost entirely by himself.

It was a gladsome spectacle, and his eyes sparkled in beholding it.
Ranged on either side, athwart the deck, stood a score of men in two well-ordered files, with breasts and backs of steel, polished Spanish morions on their heads, overshadowing their faces, and muskets ordered at their sides.
Colonel Bishop could not be expected to recognize at a glance in these upright, furbished, soldierly figures the ragged, unkempt scarecrows that but yesterday had been toiling in his plantations.

Still less could he be expected to recognize at once the courtly gentleman who advanced to greet him--a lean, graceful gentleman, dressed in the Spanish fashion, all in black with silver lace, a gold-hilted sword dangling beside him from a gold embroidered baldrick, a broad castor with a sweeping plume set above carefully curled ringlets of deepest black.
"Be welcome aboard the Cinco Llagas, Colonel, darling," a voice vaguely familiar addressed the planter.

"We've made the best of the Spaniards' wardrobe in honour of this visit, though it was scarcely yourself we had dared hope to expect.

You find yourself among friends--old friends of yours, all." The Colonel stared in stupefaction.