Southwick looked curiously at Colon. He had shown little interest in Ramage's description of the morning's ambush, but that was his way of showing disapproval at not being put in command.
Colon had eyes only for Ramage and began speaking as soon as Stafford signalled him to stop walking.
"I wish to tell you," he said, words tumbling out as if he was trying to make an urgent plea as the guillotine blade fell. "I will tell you everything. But I want a guarantee. Your word of honour-"
"A guarantee about what?"
"That they won't garrotte me!" he said, pointing to the seamen. "Slowly," he added with a shudder. Stafford's pantomime seemed to have been extremely effective. But again Ramage thought of this man sending for a slave to be whipped for his pleasure.
"You aren't in a position to demand guarantees. Tell me about the graves."
"Not graves!" Colon exclaimed almost tearfully, as though using the word to describe the trenches would eventually change their purpose. "Trenches."
"Holes," Ramage said, suddenly exasperated. "You shouldn't waste time fussing about the precise choice of words. Tell me about the holes."
"I want a guarantee."
Not at all sure he could muster a bloodcurdling laugh without breaking into a giggle, Ramage merely said contemptuously, "A beggar doesn't make demands."
Colon stared at the ground. Ramage looked directly at Stafford, let his eyes drop to the cord the Cockney was still holding and then looked back and forth along the ground in front of Colon.
Stafford understood the signal immediately and began to walk around, slapping the cord impatiently against his leg and whistling cheerfully through his teeth. He looked the picture of an impatient killer, as though, as he might phrase it, in a hurry to use the "carrot".
Colon glanced up nervously, looking first at Stafford and then at Ramage, who said nothing. Apart from the sharp slapping of the cord against Stafford's leg, his whistling, and the distant boom of waves hitting the outer reefs, there was silence.
To Colon, though, it seemed to be a silence filled with terrifying fantasies; he was perspiring and pale, clasping and unclasping his hands.
"The orders you received," Ramage prompted.
Colon looked up and Ramage was reminded of an animal trapped in a snare.
"You can guess," Colon said.
Ramage was puzzled for a moment and then wondered if there was more to Colon than he thought. Was the man hoping Ramage would guess, so that he would not actually have to use words to reveal his orders? A legalistic interpretation of "reveal"? Ramage decided that as long as he found out what the holes were for, he didn't give a damn, so he gave Colon a little help.
"I presume you were looking for something."
"Of course."
"The only things of value likely to be on this island are water and pirate's treasure."
Suddenly Colon became animated: his head came up, his shoulders straightened, both arms came up as though he was greeting a long-lost friend.
"Precisely! And there is plenty of water in the village..."
"So you are looking for treasure."
Colon did not answer; instead he grinned happily. Ramage was too excited now for the long-winded method he'd been manoeuvred into. Treasure! Presumably treasure looted from the Spanish Main, so who would be in a better position to know about it than the Spanish!
"You have a map?"
Colon shook bis head.
"You're not just digging at random?"
Colon nodded.
Is this clown being legalistic again? Ramage wondered.
"You are digging at random?" Ramage asked.
Colon nodded vigorously.
"Anywhere on the island?"
Again Colon nodded.
"You'd better find your tongue," Ramage said. "Don't forget that now I have guessed about the treasure, you aren't revealing that!"
This seemed to reassure Colon.
"Anywhere," he said. "Just selecting likely places and digging-"
"Are the holes all the same depth?"
"Oh yes, no more than the height of a small man."
"Why that limit?"
Colon shrugged his shoulders. "Orders. The Colonel said it wouldn't be deeper than that."
"How did he know?"
Ramage had the impression that Colon was slowly becoming conspiratorial in his manner; as though he had secretly abandoned the Colonel and the service of Spain, and was giving clandestine help to the British.
"There was a report."
"What report?" Ramage said angrily, getting impatient as he levered the facts out of Colon a few words at a time. "Come now, tell me all you know, otherwise you'll be pegged out to dry like boucan."
His exasperation gave his words just the right ring; Colon went white again and Ramage expected him to faint. Pirates and privateersmen haunting the Caribbean islands pegged out raw meat to dry in the sun to preserve it, calling it "boucan", and became known as boucaniers, or buccaneers.
Ramage turned to Jackson and said in English: "Use your cutlass to clear some of this-" he pointed to the low shrubs. "Level a space about seven feet long and five feet wide. In front of this chap."
Jackson gave an impressive salute and began a series of low, sweeping strokes with the cutlass blade.
Colon watched, as if hypnotized, and when Jackson had finished and kicked the branches clear, Ramage turned to the Spaniard and said abruptly: "Pegged out there. You were saying?"
"The report," Colon said hurriedly. "A family here, on this island. No taxes - they had not paid taxes. It was a long fraud on the government. The Intendente was going to put father and son in prison and confiscate their land. To save themselves the father offered to tell the Intendente about the treasure if the tax was forgotten."
"How did he know about treasure?"
"He is a descendant of a pirate. There are many such families."
"But treasure? Not every pirate family-"
"This one knew," Colon said contemptuously.
"How could the Intendente be sure?"
"A week in the dungeon at El Morro and everyone tells everything," Colon said. "That much I can assure you."
"We can do quite well here, and in less time," Ramage said dryly. "Now, tell me all you know about it.''
"Well," Colon said nervously, "treasure is buried here somewhere. They've known that in San Juan for scores of years. They've looked for a map and they've watched the people, hoping that the family that knew would one day start to dig."
"Did they?"
"No. In fact they didn't know the details. Only the depth."
"And what is the important clue?"
"I was going to tell you about that," Colon said quickly. "Everyone says it's important, but no one understands it."
"Say it!"
Colon recited:
"And no one knows what it means?" Ramage asked.
"No one!"
"What else should you tell me?"
"That's all," Colon said, and Ramage felt he was telling the truth. "That's all, and now you can kill me."
The voice was so lugubrious that Ramage laughed, and then realized Colon interpreted the laugh as agreement.
"I'll wait a while," Ramage said. "I may think of some more questions. By the way, the family that knew the poem?"
"They are still in jail at El Morro."
"And the other islanders?"
"They know nothing."
He gave Jackson instructions for guarding Colon and he and Southwick went back to the beach. There they found Yorke, St Brieuc and St Cast and walked along the beach with them. After describing the so-called clue he said, "You can all exercise your brains on that. As soon as one of you tells me what it means, we can start digging for the treasure."